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Page.
Annie Selwin 38
A Sketct from Life 43
A Leaf from the Heart 54
Attendant Angels 71
A Lion for ten minutes 90
Alice Bourne 94
A Voice from Home 107
At Evening 110
A Song of Summer 1 23
Autographs and Autography. .158, 175,
190, 206, 222, 238, 255, 270, 286, 302,
318, 334, 350
Allan Moore 182
A Ballad 199
Ashenputtel 211
Acrostic 214
A Memento for the Lonely 231
A Five Hour Fresh Water Bath.. 231
A Madrigal to Love 231
Address to the Muse 246
Autumn Winds 254
An Angel in the Clouds 259
Australia 295
Amie 295
A Song 299
Annie May 311
Autumnal Musings 315
Autumn 323
A Maiden's Tears 333
AutumnMusing 391
By the Brook 23
Birds 39
Blue-Eyed Clara 135
Be Active 187
Boarding vs. Housekeeping 330
Beauty's Offering ; 342
Blind Child 362
Blow the Horn, Hunter 391
Childhood 23
Castle Building 43
Carrie Lee 62
Covenanters' Hymn 78
Cling to the Rock, Boy 142
Corrinne Almanza, a Novelette, . . 146,
162, 178, 194,210, 226, 243, 258
Conclusive Evidence 151
Consolation 294
Caspar Isle 298
Christos, a Poem 359
Death at Sunset 75
De Soto 91
Death of the Righteous 91
Day followeth Day 123
Divine Love 219
Don't give up the Ship 262
Daniel Webster at Home 327
Death of Webster 3,37
December 375
Daniel Webster as a Man, a States-
man and a Jurist 398
Ella 43
Evening 54
Edgar Randolph 86
Page.
Edith Stanfield 166
Eddy and Willie 299
Friendship 23,414
Filling up Gaps 103
Fear 118
Fain would I die at Sunset 135
Fanny Farley 234
Farewell 279
Faith in Death 359
Freedom's Avatar 374
Gen. W. Scott 74
Grace Richmond 106
God keep my Memory pure J07
Good-By 142
Guilt and Retribution 186
Good-By, Mama 263
Hearts' Secret 2, 17, 34, 50, 66, 82,
98,114, 130
Hope on ! Hope ever 27
Humble Worth 71
Her I left behind me 238
Here in the silent Shadowings ... 330
Hymn to the Stars 358
I've been to the Woods./. 38
IsabeUa /. 70
In the Shade 110
I am not Lost 150
I met her in theFestire Crowd. . . 183
I do not ask for Fane or Wealth . 243
I stiU Live 326, 336
I miss thee. Love 390
Juan and Jola../ 119
Joy amid Sorroy 215
Jack Frost / 406
Love and Affection 14
Look on the Sunny Side 43
Lines on thedeath of Hon. H. Clay 71
Letters 71
Lilly BW 106
Lines to Emma 107
Liberty vl Love 118
Lines../. 123
Lines tpNature 139
Love 142
Lines to a Streamlet 151
Lines: 203
Lov^concealed 203
Life 214
Leonora to Tasso 21 5
Lines 235
L/ttle Eva 250
Louis Summerfield 250
Life's Dark Hours 299
Lines to Webster 331
Leonora 343
Last Look on Nature 375
Matthew Alwin 10
Mr. Bumble's Family 46
Mark Warland 68
My Hairy, O 57
Pag«.
My Childhood's Hours 86
Musings 110
Myrria 110
My last Moment 135
My routhful Days 166
My Sweet Rosabelle 166
Mosquitoes 231
Jfy Answer 270
Musings 295
Modesty 315
Memento Mori 318
Mount Ida, Troy, N. T 391
Memento Vivorum, a Story 406
Napoleon 326
November 346
On the Fourth of July 14
Our Ship 22
On leaving Hartford 23
O breathe one wish for me 22
O come not to me 70
Ode to America 71
One Short Year 234
October : 243
O give me back my snnny SmUe . 247
Obscurity 259
Presumption 75
Queen Luna 126
Remembrance 6
Reformation 46
Religion 230
Remembered Ones 283
Rhyme of the Autumn Rain 414
She sleeps in the Convent Yard . . 26
Summer Eve 27
Sonnet 39
Stanzas 46
Summer Boarding 55
Song 103
Sorrow 138
Silvia Mazzani 138
Shadows of the Past 166
Sadness 167
Surrender of Troy 174
Sonnet to Luellaceine 199
Spirit 218
Sonnet to Luellaceine 247
Stanzas 267
Shades of Evening 261
Song to Night 339
Story of a Genius 374
Song of the Pilgrim of the Alps . . . 403
The Lazzaroni 6
The Indian Maiden 7
The Literary Wife 14
The Two Carpenters 22
The Four Acre Lot 23
The Royal Favorite 26
To the Estranged 27
The Visit 30
To a Bride 39
Page.
To Anna 42
The Haunted Man 42
To a Friend 46
The Three Dollar Bill 51
To Mrs. E. Chandler 55
The Lone Heart. 55
To a Friend on her Birthday. ... 55
The Poet's Dream 58
To a Rosebud 59
ToaKiss 59
The Woods 74
There is a God above 75
The Victim of Temptation 75
To Mrs. Augusta Eaton 75
The Young Philosopher 78
The Lass of Sachem's Head 78
Tripping Down the Lane 90
The Past ■■ ■ . 90
The Death of Miss Susan Oakes . . 91
Time is Money 91
The Sea Shore 102
The Polish Slave 102
The Evening Star 103
The Prayer of the Mariner's Wife 122
The Young Husband 122
To the Absent One 123
The Miner of the Hartz 126
To the Obelisk at St. Peter's,
Rome 126
To-morrow 134
The two Silk Dresses 134
The Yellow Domino 135
The Man of Taste 135
Tribute to H. W. Longfellow 139
The Anniversary of our Freedom . 142
Travels in Palestine 142, 158, 174,
190, 206, 222, 238, 254, 270, 286, 302,
318, 334, 350, 366
The Soul's Convoy 150
The Rescue 160
The Summer Time 150
The Prince of Ayesha 151
The Dying Girl 155
The Broken Tie 158
This Auburn Tress 170
The Colonel's Legacy 179
Turkey and the Turks. . .171, 183, 199,
215, 230, 247, 267, 278, 295, 315, 326,
343, 358, 378, 394, 402
The Twilight Hour 183
The Suitor to his Mistress- 187
The Departed 188
Think of me 190
The Artist's Bride 198
The Lonely Heart 199
Thou art gone to thy rest 202
The Cave of St. Andrew 202
The Two Homes 203
ToLydia 206
The Smile of one we love 214
To Autumn 214
The Christian to his Soul 215
The Old Alchemist 218
The Red Wig 219
The Sovereign of the Seas 222
To the Evening Wind 230
Thoughts 231
Page.
The Aged 235
TheMagicRing 246
The Light of the West 259
The Happy Mistake 262
The Fall of the Leaf 266
The Secret Sign 266
The Mameluke, a novelette. .274,290,
306, 322, 338, 354, 370, 386
The Hours of Childhood 278
The Green Chamber 279
The Autumn Trees 279
The Sailor's Bride 282
The Poor Cousin 282
The Oak of theForest 283
The Exile Sisters 283
The Gem of the Tropics 286
The Poor Cousin 294
The Indian Summer 298
The Book of the Future 299
The Heai-t that loves truly can never
forget 302
The Crucifixion 310
The young Doctor's first Patient. . 311
The Distant City 327
The Maid of Alder Valley 331
The Angel Ladder 331
Thoughts 334
The Halfway Oak 332
The Walbridge Family 347
The Sanctuary won 347
The Way to Washington 359, 375,
391, 407
The Crossed Dollar 362
The Cottage by the Sea 363
"rhe Evening Cross 363
The Happiest Home 375
The Aeronaut 382
The Child's Prayer 387
The Humbled Pharisee 390
The Life of Trial 394
The Hill of Science 398
The Stars 407
The Two Wills 410
The Juniata Valley 410
The Universal Genius 414
The Blind Boy's Dream 414
Unrequited Love 43
Uncle Jefferson and his Niece. . . . 310
Visions of the Night 375
Works of Love 62
Where dwell the Angels? 107
Wild Violets 123
Warning 1 (^2
Where is gentle May ? 1 86
Where are those Flowers ? 230
Wilt thou thy friend forget 1 230
Winter is coming 318
Why should Spirits talk with Men? 350
Woman 359
Where have they vanished ? 375
Wood Notes 375
Woman's Influence 390
Yield not to Sadness 39
\
?(D flLL^ireOTH®^
^^--g^''ij^i^liil ';)i.>iiin' lh:
Page.
Allegorical Representation of the
Fourth of July 1
American House, Boston 24
Antique Procession, Danvers Cele-
bration - 25
Artists' Ball, Paris 116
Anderson, the Wizard, at the Melo-
deon 193
Astor Library, New York 200
Asf ' uption of the Virgin 213
A Dancer at a Turkish Cafe 224
Alms House, Blackwell's Island. 225
Australian Gold Fields— A Cradler 228
Dry Diggings on the Turon 228
Claim on " " 228
Children Cradling 228
"Washing the Gold 228
Method of removing Goods 229
Dodging the Commissioner 229
PostOffice 229
Disappointed Goldaeeker. . 229
Goldseekers' Graves 229
Eoad through the Black For-
est 240
Aubura, N. y ., Rail Road Building
and State Prison 280
Fort Hill Cemetery 280
A Chinese Water Brave 400
Allegorical Picture of Christmas. 401
Alms House, Deer Island 408
Blind Asylum, South Boston 64
Bust of Henry Clay in Mourning. 105
Bust of Madame Malibran 108
Boston Ravine, California 112
Burningofthe Steamer Henry Clay 117
of the Ship Robert Center. 165
Billy Bowlegs, and other Seminole
Indians 257
Bird Market, Paris S61
Burmese Soldier 268
Baptist Theological School, New-
ton, Mass 289
Battle of Waterloo 376, 377
Black Maria, the Prisoner's own
Omnibus 384
Beacon HUl Reservoir 384
Columbian Artillery, Boston 17
Count of Paris and Duke de Char-
tres 20
Court House, Toronto, Canada.. 44
Crossing the Rapids 44
Clay Medal — Obverse side 64
Reverse side 64
Crossing the Sierra Nevada 117
Church of Bodega 149
Cape Cod Celebration 160
Capture of a Battery at Rome 165
Camp Meeting near Cincinnati. . . 176
Clipper Ship Oriental, of N. York 188
Camp Meeting, Eastham, Mass.. . 192
Prayer Meeting 192
Exhortation and Preaching 192
Cathedral (new) St. Johns, N, B.. 197
Croton Dam, New York 248
Caldwell, Lake George, N. Y 249
Costoli'a Columbus Group 272
California Scenes — Bridge across
American River 276
Sacramento Cemetery 276
Miner prospecting 276
Native Indian Chief 277
Indian Squaw and Children 277
California Senorita 277
California Vaquero 277
Chinaman going to the
Mines 277
Court House, Pittsburgh, Pa 304
Curiosity 325
Chincba Islands, Peru 352
Commencement of first Railroad in
Brazil. 404
Castle of Pan, Prison of Abd-el-
Kader 405
Canal Boats on North River 409
Christmas Tree 412
Duke of Brabant and Count of
Flanders 21
Donetti's comic Troupe of Trained
Animals 33
Detroit, Michigan, view of the City 96
Dukeof Wellington— Statuette. . . 96
Departure of Ship Lizzie Webber
for Australia 180
Donna Petra Camara at the Madrid
Theatre 220
Driggs's store, interior view 244
Dog Market, Paris 260
Disbrow's Riding School 304
Dogs, Series of Views — The Ken-
nel 356
Day Yard 356
Keeper's House 356
Drawing in to Feed 357
Litter of Pups 357
Feeding the Pack 357
Don Pedro II., Emperor of Brazil 380
Encampment 1st Infantry, Newton-
ville, Mass 113
5th Artillery, Boston Com-
mon 144
Elvira, Gen. Flores's country resi-
dence 148
Explosion of the Steamer Reindeer,
on the Hudson River 196
Equestrian Portrait of the late
Duke of Wellington 286
Statue of " 308
Egyptian Frigate, FaidGihaad. . . 404
Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor 32
Fishes — Ten varieties . ■. 52, 53
Farm School, Thompson's Island 65
Fetridge's Arcade, Boston 80
Funeral Procession in honor of
Henry Clay, New York 104
Floating Houses, etc., at Guayaquil 149
Fort Independence, Boston Harbor 1 53
Fishing Party, Boston Harbor. . . . 209
Fire Department, Berlin, Prussia,
8 engravings 340, 341
Fish Market, Philadelphia 344
Graziers' Annual Festival, Gren-
oble 140
Girard College, Philadelphia, Pa. 152
Glen Mary, N. P. Willis's country
seat 169
Great Tortoise, Zoological Gar-
dens, London 181
Glen Haven Water Cure, Skane-
ateles 281
General Warren House, Roxbury. 321
Grace Church, New York 408
Gold Ring presented to Gen. Frank
Pierce 409
Genin's Bridge 416
Hill, Lincoln, Geer & Co.'s Store
Exterior view 164
Interior, first floor 164
" second " 164
Horticultural Exhibition, Public
Gardens, Boston 256
Montreal, Canada 332
Harvard Monument, Charlestown,
Mass 372
His Royal Highness Prince Albert 388
Her Majesty Queen Victoria 389
Hunting Scenes — Hare in full run 396
Hunter leaping a ditch. . . . 396
Pack in full cry 396
Head of a hound 396
Deer scenting the chase. . . 396
Indian Scenes — Encampment
Scalp Dance
Rescue of Pocahontas
Relics — Belt worn by King
Philip ;
Tomahawks
Moccasons worn by Tecum-
seh
Pipe
Comb
Ichahoe, View of the Island
Method of taking Guano . . .
Irish Harvest Scene
Japanese Marriage Ceremony. '. .;v;
Method of Agriculture .
124
124
124
265
265
265
265
265
300
300
'380
Pago.
Japanese Perso&s of Rank 9
Country People 9
Funeral Ceremonies 9
Praying Machine 9
J. R. Scott, the Tragedian, as In-
gomar 152
Klous's Hat, Cap and Fur Store,
Interior view 236
Loss of the Cutter Taney, N. Y.
harbor 144
Loss of the Steamboiit Atlantic,
Lake Erie 161
Lawrence Naval Monument, New
York > 200
Lunatic Asylum, Worcester, Mass. 264
Lincoln Square, " " 264
Life Boat 268
Ledger and Jayne*s Buildings, Phil-
adelphia 360
Mint, Philadelphia, Exterior View 40
Adjusting Room 40
Pressing and Milling Room 41
General Pressing and Cut-
ting Room 41
Steam Engine 48
Coin Press 48
Metallic Coffin containing remains
of Hon. Henry Clay 76
Mens, and Mad'Ue Dupres 84\
Meat Market, Paris, 85
Mad'Ue Rachel, as Valeria and
Lysisca 101
Monument Cemetery, Philadelphia 129
Mexican Troops on the March. . . 132
Monument to Capt. S. Thompson,
Buffalo, N.Y 176
Metropolitan Hotel, Opening Din-
ner 201
Massachusetts General Hospital,
Boston 208
Moyamensing Prison, at Philadel-
phia, Pa 248
Mary, Queen of Scots 252
Musician of a Turkish Harem 256
Muezzin calling to Prayer 288
Mission of San Carlos, California 293
Monumental Fountain, Nimes,
France 364
Merchants* Exchange, New York 369
Niagara Falls — Great Rapids 36
Little Rapids 36
American Falls 36
American Falls from Ciana-
da side 37
At Sunset 37
Table Rock 37
From the American Shore 68
View of the Factories. ... 68
From the Canada side 68
Suspension Bridge 69
Light House 69
Grand Rapids and Horse
Shoe 69
Newport, R. I., View of the City 56
First Beach 56
Fort Conanicut 57
Old Stone MiU 57
Gen. Prescott's Head Quar-
ters 57
Gen. Greene's Birthplace 57
Navy Yard, Charlestown-Perspec-
tive View 184
Parade Ground and Bar-
racks . . . ; 1 84
Rope Walk 185
Commodore's House 185
Nursery Yacht 212
N. York State Fair, Utica, — View
, Qf Utica 232
V^ew of the Ground 232
Bull, "Hatton" 232
■'"'Fieifer, "Red Lady" 232
Prize Poultry 232
Ayrshire Bull, Kilburn 232
Hereford Cow, '* Pretty
Maid " 232
Naval Combat on the Seine, Paris 240
New Hampshire State Fair 273
Newburyport, Mass., — Putnam
Free School 305
View of the City 312
Suspension Bridge 312
Oak Hill Cemetery 313
City Hall 313
Old South Church 336
Whiteaeld's Monument... 336
New York Bay and Harbor 337
New York Firemen's Block to the
Washington Monument 352
New Music Hall, Boston 385
Old Church, Hingham, Ms 112
Owego, N. Y., View of the Town 168
Ostend, Belgium 244
Owasco Lake, New York 281
Osmanli, the Mameluke 396
Portrait of Gen. Frank Pierce 16
Gen. Scott 32
Henry Clay 49
Lord Timothy Dexter 80
Victor Hugo 116
G. Nourse, Chief of Police,
Boston 128
Hon. R. Rantoul, Jr 140
John S. Thrasher 153
0. Sacket, Yankee Card
Writer 156
Madame Sontag 172
CountD'Orsay 180
Mrs. Ellis 188
Audubon the Naturalist. . . 196
Madame Alboni 201
Richard Mather 265
Rev. John Rodgers 265
Donna Corrinne Almanza,
(Fancy) 268
Viscount Hardinge 297
Hon. Abbott Lawrence. .. . 309
J. W. Wallack 344
Pierce and King 353
Dr. Addison G. Bragg... 372
Lola Montez 400
Abd-el-Kader 405
Procession in honor of Dan'l Web-
ster ,>v72
Poniard presented to Faustin I.,^
Emperor of Hayti ^76
Pleasant Mountain House, Maine 83
Partridges protecting their young 92
Partridge Shooting 92
Pilot's Monument, Greenwood Ce-
metery, 97
Prize Medal of the Amoskeag Co.
from the World's Fair 100
Potato Plants — six Engravings . . 133
Portage Falls, Portage, New York 169
Plymouth, Ms., View of the Town 216
Pilgrim Hall 216
Landing of the Pilgrims. . 217
Pilgrim Rock 217
Parade of Col. Wright's Light Dra-
goons 242
Prome, Burman Empire 245
Procession of Brooklyn Firemen 296
Passing Fireman's Hall,
Brooklyn, N. Y 296
Ploughing Match, Bridgeport, Ct. 297
Plate presented to F. Gleason... 361
Quincy, Mass.— Birthplace oi' J.
Q. Adams .. 120
Adams Mansion 120
Adams Temple 121
J. Q. Adams's Tomb 121
Granite Quarries 128
Rebecca at the Well . . : 12
Rescue of Ruez Gonzales- "He art's
Secret" ■18
Reception of Hon. Daniel Web-
ster on Boston Common 73
Remains of Hon. H. Clay, City
Hall, New York 76
Railway Bridge, Dresden, ^axony 101
Rangoon, Burman Empire, View
of the City 108
Rail Road Bridge, Portage, N. Y. 168
Review of Providence Marine
Artillery, Boston Common.... 177
Page
Rail Road — Commencement of St.
Andrews r.nd Quebec 181
Review of Troops, New York 204
Regatta at Hull 208
Reform School, Westboro, Mass.. 249
Regatta at Lisbon 293
Representation of Trenton Falls,
New York 400
Sea Serpent — five Engravings ... 4, 5
Salt Works at Salines, France. . . 85
Stewart's Marble Store, Broadway,
N. Y., during Hon. Henry Clay's
Funeral 104
St. Helen's, Oregon, View of the
Town 105
Statue of Madame Malibran 108
Saratoga Springs — Congress Hall
and Spring, 1826 136
United States Hotel 136
Stanwix, Union, and Con-
gress Hall 136
High Rock, Empire and
Iodine Springs 137
Congress Spring and the
Grounds 137
Sierra Madre Mountains, near
Monterey 156
Saratoga Lake 160
Squadron with Queen Victoria,
leaving the Isle of Wight 197
Snuff-Box presented to Dr. Hitch-
cock 200
Summer Residence of the Kara
Family, Russia 212
Swedish Emigrants passing Glea-
son's Pictorial Office 288
Sutter's Mill at Coloma, Cal 292
The Finding of Moses 28
Tomb of Madame Malibran 1 08
Travelling Costume of a Lady of
Guayaquil 148
Traders in Oranges, etc., in Guay-
aquil 149
Turkish Sultan's State Barge 292
The Prophecy of the Flowers 324
Thanksgiving 345
The Refuge at the Altar 348
Turkish Gentleman 368
Turkish Arabat 368
Trinity Church, New York, 409
University Building, New York. . 145
Victoria Regia — a mammoth Lily 60
before opening 60
in full flower 60
under part of the leaf 60
Victoria Bridge, near Windsor,
England 172
View of Constantinople, Seraglio
Point 224
View of City of Chicago 373
West Point — Hotel from the Land-
ing 88
Kosciusko's Monument. ... 88
Encampment of the Cadets 89
Cadets' Monument and Ce-
meteiy 89
Cadets making Fascines ... 89
Water Cure, Han-odsburg, Ky. . . . 309
Webster Series of Views — Monu-
mental Design 316
Farm at Marshfield 320
Room in which he died. . . . 320
Funeral Procession 328
Metallic CofBn 328
Tomb at Marshfield 328
Remains in the Library 328
At Home 328
Whirling Dervishes 332
Webster Funeral Procession at
Boston 392
Webster— Medallion Head 393
Yale's Mammoth Tent at the Dan-
vers Celebration 24
Young Artist of Quito 148
Youle's Shot Tower, New York.. 224
Yenbenzeik, from Prome 245
T? r<Ti7ianvr r corner bromfield
r . U-ljJ!jii.i5Ux\ , 1 AKD TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, JULY 3, 185:
.V2.
^'^S. sTngu-?"! Vol. IIL No. 1.— Whole No. 53.
THE FOURTH OF JULY.
What a throng of recollections crowfl upon
the mind at the simple mention of this day ; and
how it cairies ns back to our lx)yhood and its de-
lights, and bow strong^ly it reminds us of tlie
blessings of our country and her early sti-uggles
for the possession of the privileges we now en- the other heroes of the war. Below, in the cen- sentation of tbemoftth of July. Altogether, tbe
joy. The engraving which our artist has given tre, is a revolutionary hero relating to his grand- picture is a very chaste and, beautiful one, and
us below is emblematical of this long cherished children stories of the "times that tried men's will be peculiarly valuable to our readers at this
era. The Genius of Liberty, preceded by Fame, souls." At the base on the one hand, the happy appropriate season of the year, when the day
is seen pointing to the author of tlie Declaration masses are seen celebrating the great national and date are now before us and in celebration,
of Independence, followed by "Washington and holiday ; on the other, is seen the tj'pical repre- by the millions of our liberty-loving people.
ALLEGORICAL REPRESENTATION OF 1;HE FOURTH OF JULY..
GLEASON'S PICTOIIIAL DRAWING llOO:^ COMPAXIOX.
Euteicd nccoiiling lo Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleason, in tlic Clerk's Olliee of tlic
District Court of Massucliusctts.
[WIIITTEN EXnir.SSI.Y FOn OI.EASON 8 PICTOItlAL,]
T H E
— oil, —
■ ■■•'
3, Stoxnn of tm (Wih i§c Cow €(\i\i\\U^.
BY LIEUTENANT MUKRAY.
CHAPTER I.
THE ACCIDENT.
The soft twilight of tlic tropics, thnt loves
to linger over the low hititudcp, after the de-
parture of the long suminicr's day, was breath-
ing in zephyrs of aromatic sweetness over the
shores and plains of the beautifnl Queen of the
jVntilles. The noise and bustle of the day had
given place to the quiet and gentle influences of
the hour; the slave had laid by his implements
of labor, and now stood at case, -while tlie sun-
burnt overseers had put off the air of vigilance
that they had worn all day, and sat or lounged
lazily with their cigars.
Here and there strolled a Montaro from the
country, who, having disposed of his load of
fruit, of produce and fowls, was now prepar-
ing to return once more inland, looking, with
his long Toledo blade and heavy spurs, more
like a bandit than an honest husbandman. The
evening guu had long since boomed over the
waters of the land-locked harbor from the grim
walls of Moro Castle, the guard had been relieved
at the governor's palace and the city walls, and
now the steady martial tread to the tap of the
dium rang along the streets of Havana, as the
guard once more sought thcu- barracks in the
Plaza des Amies.
The pretty senoritas sat at their grated win-
dows, nearly on a level with the street, and chat-
ted through tlie bars, not unlike prisoners, to
those gallants who paused to address them. And
now a steady line of pedestrians turned their way
to the garden that fronts the governor's palace,
where they might listen to the music of the band,
nightly poured forth here to rich and poor.
At this peculiar hour there was a small party
walking in the broad and very private walk that
skirts the seaward side of the city, nearly oppo-
fiite the Moro, and known as the Plato. It is
the only hour in which a lady can appear outside
the walls of her dwelling on foot in this queer
and picturesque capital, and then only in the
Plaza, opposite to the palace, or in some secluded
and private walk like the Plato. Such is Creole
and Spanish etiquette.
The party referred to consisted of a fine look-
ing old Spanish don, a lady who seemed to be
his daughter, a little boy of some twelve or thir-
teen years, who might perhaps be the lady's
brother, and a couple of gentlemen in undress
military attire, yet bearing sufficient tokens of
rank to show them to be high in command. The
party was a gay though small one, and the lady
seemed to be as lively and' talkative as the two
gentlemen could desire, while they, on their part,
appeared most devoted to every syllable and
gesture.
There was a slight air of hauteur in the lady's
bearing ; she seemed to half disdain the homage
that was so freely tendered to her, and though
she laughed loud and clear, there was a careless,
not to say heartless, accent in her tones, that be-
trayed her indifference to the devoted attentions
of her companions. Apparently too much ac-
customed to this treatment to be disheartened by
it, the two gentlemen bore themselves most cour-
teously, and continued as devoted as ever to the
fail- creature by their side.
The boy of whom we have spoken was a noble
child, frank and manly in his bearing, and evi-
dently deeply interested in the maritime scene
before him. Now he paused to watch the throng
of craft of every nation that lay at anchor iu the
harbor, or which were moored, after the fashion
here, with their stems to the quay, and now his
fine blue eye wandered olF over the swift running
waters of the Gulf Stream, watching for a mo-
ment the long, heavy swoop of some distant sea-
fowl, or the white sail of some clipper craft bound
up the Gulf to New Orleans, or down the narrow
channel thi'ough the Caribbean Sea to some
South American port. The old don seemed in
the meantime to regard the boy with an earnest
pride, and scarcely heeded at all the bright sallies
of wit that his daughter was so freely and merrily
bestowing upon her two assiduous admirers.
" Yonder brigantine must be a slaver," said
the boy, pointing to a rakish craft that seemed to
be stmggling against the current to tlie south-
ward.
" Most like, most like ; but what does she on
this side 1 the southern shore is her ground, and
the Isle of Pines is a hundred leagues from here,"
said the old don.
" She has lost her reckoning, probably," said
the boy, "and made the first land to the north.
Liicky she didn't fall in with those Florida
wreckers, for though the Americans don't carry
on the African trade nowadays, they know what
to do with a cargo if it gets once hard and fast
on the reefs."
" What know you of these matters?" asked
the old don, turning a curious eye on the boy.
" 0, I hear them talk of these things, and you
know I saw a cargo ' run ' on the south side only
last month," continued the boy. " There were
three hundred or more filed off from that felucca,
two by t^vo, to the shore."
" It is a slaver," said one of the officers, "a
little out of her latitude, that's all."
"A beautiful craft," said the lady, earnestly;
" can it be a slaver, and so beautiful ?"
" They arc clipper-built, all of them," said the
old don. " Launched in Baltimore, United
States."
Senorita Gonzales was the daughter of the
proud old don of the same name, who was of the
party on the Plato at the time we describe. The
father was one of the richest as well as noblest
in rank of all the residents of the island, being of
the old Castilian stock, who had come from
Spain many years before, and after holding high
office, both civil and military, under the crown,
had at last retired with a princely fortune, and
devoted himself to the education of his daughter
and son, both of whom we have already intro-
duced to the reader.
The daughter, beautiful, intelligent, and witty
to a most extraordinary degree, had absolutely
broken the hearts of half the men of rank on the
island ; for though yet scarcely twenty years of
age, Senorita Isabella was a confirmed coquette.
It was her passion to command and enjoy a de-
votion, but as to ever having in the least degree
cherished or known wliat it was to love, the lady
was entirely void of the charge ; she had never
known the tenderness of reciprocal affection, nor
did it seem to those who knew her best, that the
man was born who could win her confidence.
Men's hearts had been Isabella Gonzales's
toys and playthings ever since the hour that she
first had realized her power over them. And yet
she was far from being heartless in reality. She
was most sensitive, and at times thoughtful and
serious ; but this was in her closet, and when
alone. Those who thought that the sunshine of
that face was never clouded, were mistaken. She
hardly received the respect that was due to her
better underntandtng uiul natui-ally strong points
of character, because she hid them mainly behind
an exterior of captivating mirthfnlneHS and never
ceasing smiles.
The cool relVcsliiiig sea breeze that swept in
from the water was most dcliciouK, after the
scorching heat of a summer's day in the West
Indies, and the party i)auscd as they breathed in
of its freshness, leaning upon the parapet of the
walk, over which they looked down upon the
glancing waves of the hay far beneath them.
The moon was stealing slowly but steadily up
from l)chind the lofty tower of Moro Castle, cast-
ing a dash of silvery light athwart its dark bat-
teries and grim walls, and silvering a long wake
across the now silent harbor, making its rippling
waters of golden and silver hues, and casting,
where the Moro tower was between it and the
water, a long, deep shadow to seaward.
Even the gay and apparently thoughtless Seno-
rita Isabella was struck with delight at the view
now presented to her gaze, and for a moment she
paused in silence to drink in of the spirit-stimng
beauty of the scene.
"How beautiful it is," whispered the hoy, who
was close by her side.
" Beautiful, ye;-i/ beautiful," echoed Isabella,
again becoming silent.
No one who has not breathed the soft air of
the south at an hour such as we have described,
can well realize the tender influence that it exer-
cises upon a susceptible disposition. The whole
party gazed for some minutes in silence, appar-
ently charmed by the scene. There was a hal-
lowing and chastening influence in the very air,
and the gay coquette was softened into the tender
woman. A tear even glistened in Ruez's, her
brother's, eyes ; but he was a thoughtful and
delicate-souled child, and would be affected thus
much more quickly than his sister.
The eldest of the two gentlemen who were in
attendance upon Don Gonzales and his family,
was Count Anguera, lieutenant-governor of the
island ; and his comparuon, a fine military figure,
apparently some years the count's junior, was
General Harero of the royal infantry, quartered
at the governor's palace. Such was the party
that promenaded on the parapet of the Plato.
As we have intimated, the two gentlemen were
evidently striving to please Isabella, and to win
from her some encouraging smile or other token
that might indicate a preference for their atten-
tions. Admiration even from the high source
that now tendered it was no new thing to her,
and with just sufficient archness to puzzle tliem,
she waived and replied to their conversation
with most provoking indifference, lavishing a
vast deal more kindness and attention upon a
noble wolf-hound that crouched close to her feet,
his big clear eye bent ever upon his mistress's
face with a degree of intelligence that would have
formed a theme for a painter. It was a noble
creature, and no wonder the lady evinced so
much regard for the hound, who ever and anon
walked close to her.
"You love the hound?" suggested General
Harero, stooping to smooth its glossy coat.
" Yes."
" He is to be envied, then, upon my soul, lady.
How could he, with no powers of utterance, have
done that for himself, which we poor gallants so
fail in doing V
*' And wdiat may that be V asked Isabella,
archly tossing her head.
" Win thy love," half whispered the officer,
drawing closer to her side.
The answer was lost, if indeed Isabella intend-
ed one, by the father's calling the attention of the
party to some object on the Itegla shore, oppo-
site the city, looming up in the dim light.
Ruez had mounted the parapet, and with his
feet carelessly dangling on the other side, sat
gazing off' upon the sea, now straining his eye to
make out the rig of some dark hull in the dis-
tance, and now following back the moon's glit-
tering wake until it met the shore. At this mo-
ment the hound, leaving his mistress's side, put
his fore paws upon the top of the parapet and his
nose into one of the boy's hands, causing him to
turn round suddenly to sec what it was that
touched him; in doing which he lost his balance,
and with a faint cry fell from the parapet far
down to the water below. Each of the gentle-
men at once sprang upon the stone work and
looked over where the boy had fallen, but it
would have been madness for any one, however
good a swimmer; and as they realized this and
their helpless situation, they stood for a moment
dumb with consternation.
At that moment a plunge was heard in the
water from the edge of the quay far below the
jmrapet, and a dark form was traced making
its way througli the water with that strong bold
stroke that shows the cfiort of a confident and
powci'fu! hwinimcr.
" 'I'hank God nome one has seen his fall from
liclow, and they will rescue Iiim," said Don Gon-
zales, springing swiftly down the Plato steps,
followed by Isabella and the ofliccrs, and seek-
ing the street that led to the quay below.
"O hasten, father, hasten!" exclaimed Isa-
bella, impatiently.
" Nay, Isabella, my old limbs totter with fear
for dear Ruez," was the hasty reply of the old
don, as he huiTicd forward with his daughter.
"Dear, dear Kuez," exclaimed Isabella, hys-
terically.
D.ashing by the guard stationed on the quay,
who presented arms as his superiors passed, they
reached its end in time to see, through the now
dim twilight, the efforts of some one in the water
supporting the half insensilde boy with one arm,
while with the other he was struggling with al-
most superhuman effort against the steady set of
the tide to seaward. Already were a couple of
seamen lowering a quarter-boat from an Ameri-
can barque, near by, but the rojjc had fouled in
the blocks, and they conld not loose it. A cou-
ple of infantry soldiers had also come up to the
spot, and having secured a rope were about to
attempt some assistance to the swimmer.
" Heave the line," shouted one of the seamen.
" Give me the bight of it, and 111 swim out to
him."
" Stand by for it," said the soldier, coiling it
in his hand and then throwing it towards the
barque. But the coil fell short of the mark, and
another minute's delay occurred.
In the meantime he who held the boy, though
evidently a man of cool judgment, powerful
frame, and steady purpose, yet now breathed
so heavily in his earnest struggle with the
swift tide, that his panting might be distinctly
heard on the qua}'. He was evidently conscious
of the efforts now making for his succor and that
of the bo}^, but he uttered no words, still bending
every nerve and faculty towards the stemming
of the current that sets into the harbor from the
Gulf Stream.
The hound had been running back and forth
on the top of the parapet, half prcpai"ing every
moment for a spring, and then deterred by the
immense distance which presented itself between
the animal and the water, it would run back and
forth again with a most piteous howling cry ;
but at this moment it came bounding down the
street to the quay, as though it at last realized
the projaer spot from which to make the attempt,
and with a leap that seemed to cany it nearly
a rod into the waters, it swam easily to the boy's
side.
An exclamation of joy escaped from both Don
Gonzales and Isabella, for they knew the hound
to have saved a life before, and now prized his
sagacity highly.
As the hound swung round easily beside the
struggling forms, the swimmer placed the boy's
arm about the animal's neck, while the noble
creature, with almost human reason, instead of
struggling fiercely at being thus entirely buried
iu the water, save the mere point of his nose,
worked as steadily and as calmly as though he
was merely following ins young master on shore.
The momentary relief was of the utmost impor-
tance to the swimmer, who being thus partially
relieveil of Ruez's weight, once more struck out
boldly for the quay. But the boy had now lost
all consciousness, and his arm slipped away from
the hound's neck, and he rolled heavily over,
carrying down the swimmer and himself for a
moment, below the surface of the water.
" Holy motlier ! they are both drowned!" al-
most screamed Isabella.
"Lost! lost!" groaned Don Gonzales, with
iiplifted hands and tottering form.
"No! no!" exclaimed General Harero, "not
yet, not yet." He had jumped on board the
barque, and had cut the davit ropes with hi.s
sword, and thus succeeded in launching the boat
with himself and the two seamen in it.
At this moment the swimmer rose once more
slowly with his burthen to the surface ; but his
efforts were so faintly made now, that he barely
floated, and yet with a nervous vigor he ket)t the
boy still far above himself. And now it was
that the noble instinct of the hound stood his
young master in such importance, and led him
to seize with his teeth the boy's clothes, while
the swimmer once more fairly gained his self-
possession, and the boat with General Harero
and the seamen came alongside. In a moment
more the boy with his preserver and the dog
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
■were safe in the boat, whicli was rowed at once
to the qnay.
A shout of satisf-iction rang out from twenty
voices that had witnessed the scene.
Isabella, the moment they were safely in the
boat, fainted, while Count Anguora ran for a
volante for conveyance home. The swimmer
soon regained his strength, and when the boat
reached the quay, he lifced the boy from it him-
self. It was a most striking picture that pre-
sented itself to the eye at that moment on the
quay, in the dim twilight that was so struggling
with the moon's brighter rays.
The father, embracing the reviving boy, looked
the gratitude he could not find words to express,
wliile a calm, satisfied smile ornamented the
handsome features of the soldier who had saved
Kuez*s life at sucli imminent risk. The coat
which he had hastily thrown upon the quay
when he leaped into the water, showed him to
bear the rank of lieutenant of infanti-y, and by
the number, he belonged to General Harero's
own division.
CELVPTER II.
THE BELLE AND THE SOLtUER.
"Whoever has been in Havana, tliat strange
and peculiar city, wliose every association and
belonging seem to bring to mind the period of
centuries gone by, whose time-worn and moss-
covered cathedrals appear to stand as grim rcc-
oi'ds of the past, whose noble palaces and resi-
dences of tlie rich give token of the fact of its
great wealth and extraordinary resources — who-
ever, we say, has been in this capital of Cuba,
has of course visited its well-known and far-famed
Tacon Paseo. It is here, just outside the city
walls, in a beautiful tract of land, laid out in
tempting walks, ornamented with the fragrant
flowei'S of the tropics, and with starues and foun-
tains innumerable, that the beauty and fashion
of the town resort cacli afternoon to drive in their
volantes, and to meet and greet each other.
It was on the afternoon subsequent to that of
the accident recorded in the preceding cliapter,
that a young ofilicer, off duty, might be seen par-
tially reclining upon one of the broad seats that
here and there line the foot-path of the circular
drive in the Paseo. He possessed a fine manly
figure, and was perhaps of twenty-four or five
years of age, and clothed in the plain undress
nuiform of the Spanish army. His features wei'C
of that national and handsome cast that is pecu-
liar to the full-blooded Castilian, and the pure
olive of his complexion contrasted finely with a
moustache and imperial as black as the dark
flowing liair that fell from beneath his foraging
Ciip. At the moment when we introduce him he
was playing with a small, light walking-stick,
with which he thrashed liis boots most immoder-
ately ; but his thoughts were busy enough in
another quarter, as any one might conjecture
even at a single glance.
Suddenly his whole manner changed ; he rose
quickly to his feet, and lifting his cap gracefully,
he saluted and acknowledged the particular no-
tice of a lady who bent partially forward from a
richly mounted volantc, drawn by as richly a ca-
parisoned horse, and driven by as richly dressed a
calesaro. The manner of the young officer froin
that moment was the very- antipodes of what it
had been a few moments before. A change
seemed to have come over the spirit of his dream.
His fine military figure became erect and digni-
fied, and a slight indication of satisfied pride was
just visible in the fine lines of his expressive lips.
As he passed on his way, after a momentary
pause, he met General Harcro, who stiffly ac-
knowledged his military salute, with anything but
kindness, expressed in the stern lines of Ins for-
bidding countenance. He even took some pains
to scowl upon the young soldier as they passed
each other.
But what cared Lieutenant Bczan for his
frowns ? Had not the belle of the city, the beau-
tiful, the peerless, the famed Senorita Isabella
Gonzales just publicly saluted him ? — that glo-
rious being whose transcendent beauty had been
the theme of every tongue, and whose loveliness
had enslaved him from the first moment he had
looked upon her — just two years previous, when
he first came from Spain. Had not this high-
bom and proud lady publicly saluted him ? Him,
a poor lieutenant of infantry, who had never
dared to lift his eyes to meet her oivn before,
liowever deep and ardently he might have wor-
sliipped her in secret. AVliat cared the young offi-
cer that his commander had seen fit thus to frown
upon him \ True, he realized the power of mili-
tary discipline, and partieulaidy of the Spanish
army ; but lie forgot all else now, in the fact that
Isabella Gon/ales had publicly saluted him in
the paths of the Paseo.
Possessed of a highly chivalrous disposition,
Lieutenant Bezau had few confidants among his
regiment, who, notwithstanding this, loved him
as well as brothers might love. He seemed de-
cidedly to prefer solitude and his books to the
social gatherings, or the clubs formed by his
brother officers, or indeed to join them in any of
their ordinary sports or pastimes.
Of a very good family at home, he had the
misfortune to have been born a younger brother,
and after being thoroughly educated at the best
schools of Madrid, he was frankly told by his
father that lie must seek his fortune, and for tl-e
future rely solely upon himself. There was but
one field open to him, at least so it seemed to
him, and that was the army. Two years before
tlie opening of our story he had enlisted as a
third lieutenant of infantry, and had been at once
ordered to the West Indies with his entire regi-
ment. Here promotion for more than one gal-
lant act closely followed him, until at the time
we introduce him to the reader as first lieutenant.
Being of a naturally cheei-ful and exceedingly
happy disposition, he took life like a philosopher,
and knew little of care or sorrow until the time
when he first saw Senorita Isabella Gonzales —
an occasion that planted a hopeless passion in
his brejist.
From the moment of their first meeting,
though entirely unnoticed by her, he felt that he
loved her, deeply, tenderly loved her ; and yet at
the same time he fully realized liow immeasur-
ably she was beyond his sphere, and consequently
hopes. He saw the first officials of the island at
her very feet, watching for one glance of encour-
agement or kindness from those dark and lus-
trous eyes of jet ; in short, he saw her ever the
centre of an admiring circle of the rich and
proud. It is perhaps strange, but nevertheless
true, that with all these discouraging and dis-
heartening circumstances, Lieutenant Bczan did
not lose all hope. He loved her, lowly and ob-
scure though he was, with all his heart, and used
to whisper to himself that love like his need not
despair, for he felt how truly and honestly his
heart warmed and his pulses beat for her.
Nearly two entire ycai-s had his devoted heart
lived on thus, if not once gratified by a glance
from her eye, still hoping that devotion like his
w^ould one day be rewarded. T\niat prophets of
the future arc youth and love ! Distant as the
star of his destiny appeared from him, he yet
still toiled on, hoped on, in his often weary round
of duty, sustained by the one sentiment of tender
love and devotcdness to one who knew him not.
At the time of the fearful accident when Kuez
Gonzales came so near losing his life from the
fall he suffered off the parapet of the Plato, Lieu-
tenant Bezan was officer of the night, his rounds
having fortunately brought him to the quay at
the most opportune moment. He knew not who
it was that had fallen into the water, but guided
by a native spirit of daring and humanity, he
had thrown off liis coat and cap and leaped in
after him.
The feelings of pleasure and secret joy expe-
rienced by the young officer, when after landing
from the boat he learned by a single glance who
it was he had so fortunately saved, may be better
imagined than described, when his love for the
hoy's sister is remembered. And when, as we
have related, the prond Senorita Isabella public-
ly saluted him before a hundred eyes in the
Paseo, he felt a joy of mind, a brightness of
heart, that words could not express.
His figure and face were such that once seen
their manly beauty and noble outline could not be
easily forgotten ; and there were few^ ladies in the
city, whose station and rank would permit them
to associate with one bearing only a lieutenant's
commission, who would not have been prond of
his notice and homage. He could not be igno-
rant of hi- personal recommendations, and yet the
young officer sought no female society — his heart
knew but one idol, and he could bow to but one
tlironc of love.
Whetlier by accident or purposely, the lady
herself only knew, but when the volante, in the
circular drive of the Paseo, again came opposite
to the spot where Lieutenant Bezan was, the
Senorita Isabella dropped her fan upon the car-
riage-road. As the young officer sprang to pick
it np and return it, she bade the calesaro to halt.
Her father, Don Gonzales, was by her side, and
the lieutenant presented the fan in the most re-
spectful manner, being rewarded by a glance
from the lady that thrilled to Iiis very soul. Don
Gonzales exclaimed :
"By our lady, but this is the young officer,
Isabella, who yesternight so promptly and gal-
lantly saved the life of our dear Iluez."
" It is indeed he, father," said the beauty, with
much interest.
"Lieutenant Bezan, the general told us, I
believe," continued the father.
" That was the name, father."
"And is this Lieutenant Bezan'?" asked Don
Gonzales, addressing the officer.
" At your service," replied lie, bowing respect-
fully.
" Senor," continued the father, most caniestly,
and extending at the same time his hand to the
blushing r-oldier, " permit me and my daughter
to thank you sincerely for the extraordinary ser-
vice you rendered to us and our dear liuez last
evening."
" Senor, the pleasure of having served you
richly compensated for any personal inconven-
ience or risk I may have experienced," answered
Lieutenant Bezan ; saying which, he bowed low
and looked once into the lovely eyes of the beau-
tiful Senorita Isabella, when at a word to the
calesaro, the volante again jiasscd on in the cir-
cular drive.
Bnt the young officer had not been nnwatched
during the brief moments of conversation that
had passed between him and the occupants of
the vehicle. Scarcely had he left the side of the
volante, when he once more met General Harero,
who seemed this time to take some pains to con-
front him, as he remarked :
" What business may Lieutenant Bezan have
with Don Gonzales and his fair daughter, that
he stops their volante in the public walks of the
Paseo V
" The lady dropped her fan, general, and I
picked it up andreturned it to her," was the gentle-
manly and submissive reply of the young officer.
" Dropped her fan," repeated the general,
snecringly, as he gazed at the lieutenant.
"Yes, general, and I returned it."
" Indeed," said the commanding officer, with
a decided empliasis.
" Could I have done less, general V asked
Lieutenant Bezan.
" It matters not, though you seem to be ever
on hand to do the lady and her father some ser-
vice, sir. Perhaps you would relish another cold
bath," he continued, with most cutting sarcasm.
" Wlio introduced you, sir, to these people?"
"No one, sir. It was chance that brought us
together. You will remember the scene on the
quay."
"I do."
" Before that time I had never exchanged one
word with them."
" And on this you presume to establish an ac-
quaintance ?"
" By no means, sir. The lady recognized me,
and I was proud to return the polite salute with
which she greeted me."
" Doubtless."
" Would you have me do othenvise, sir ?"
" I would have you avoid this family of Gon-
zales altogether."
" I trust, general, that I have not exceeded my
duty either to the father or daughter, though by
the tone of your remarks I seem to have incun-ed
your disapprobation," replied Lieutenant Bezan,
firmly but respectfully.
" It would be more becoming in an officer of
j'ourrank," continued the superior, "to be nearer
his quarters, than to spend his hours off duti,' in
so conspicuous and public a place as the Tacon
Paseo. I shall see that such orders are issued
for the future as shall keep those attached to my
division within the city walls."
" Whatever duty is prescribed by my superiors
I shall most cheerfully and promptly respond to.
General Harero," replied the young officer, as he
respectfully saluted his general, and turning, he
sought die city gates on the way to his barracks.
" Stay, Lieutenant Bezan," said the general,
somewhat nervously.
" General," repeated the officer, witli tlie
prompt military salute, as he awaited orders.
** You may go, sir," continued his superior,
biting liis lips with vexation. "Another time
will answer my purpose quite as well, perhaps
better. You may retire, I say."
" Yes, general," answered the soldier, respect-
fully, and once more turned away.
Lieutenant Bezan was too well aware of Gen-
eral Harero's intimacy at theliouse of Don Gon-
zales, not to understand the meaning of the re-
buke and exhibition of bitterness on the part of
his superior towards him. The general, although
he possessed a fine commanding figure, yet was
endowed with no such personal advantages to I'cc-
ommend him to a lady's eye as did the young
officer who had thus provoked him, and he could
not relish the idea that one who had already ren-
dered such signal services to the Senorita Isabella
and her father, even though he was so very far
below himself in rank, sliould become too inti-
mate with the family. It would be unfair to-
wards Lieutenant Bezan to suppose that he did
not i)ossess sufficient judgment of human nature
and discernment to sec all this.
He could not but regret that he liad incuiTcd
the ill will of his general, though it was unjustly
entertained, for he knew only too well how rig-
orous was the service in which he was engaged,
and that a superior officer possessed almcst ab-
solute power over those placed in his command,
in the Spanish army, even unto the sentence of
death. He had too often been the unwilling
spectator, and even at times the innocent agent
of scenes that were revolting to bis better feel-
ings, which emanated solely from this arbitrary
power vested in heartless and incompetent indi-
viduals by means of their military rank. Musing
thus upon the singular state of his affairs, and
the events of the last two days, so important to
his feelings, now recalling the bewitching glances
of the peerless Isabella Gonzales, and now ru-
minating upon the ill will of General Harero, he
strolled into the city, and reaching La Domini-
ca's, he threw himself upon a lounge near the
marble fountain, and calling for a glass o{ agrass,
he sipped the cool and grateful beverage, and
wiled away the hour until the evening parade.
Though Don Gonzales duly appreciated the
great service tliat Lieutenant Bezan had done
him, at sncli imminent personal hazard, too, yet
he would no more have introduced him into his
family on terms of a visiting acquaintance in
consequence thereof, than lie would have boldly
broken down any other strict rule and principle
of his ai'istocratic nature ; and yet he was not
ungrateful. Far from it, as Lieutenant Bezan
had reason to know, for lie applied his great in-
fluence at once to the governor-general in the
young officer's behalf. The favor he demanded
of Tacon, then governor and commander-in-chief,
■was the promotion to a captaincy of him who
had so vitally served the interests and welfare of
his house.
Tacon was one of the wisest and best governors
that Cuba ever had, as ready to reward merit as
he was to signally punish trickery or crime of
any sort, and when the case was fairly laid before
him, bv reference to the rolls of his military sec-
retary, he discovered that Lieutenant Bezan had
already been promoted twice for distinguished
merit, and replied to Don Gouznlcs that, as this
was the ease, and the young soldier was found
to be so deserving, he should cheerfully comply
with his request as it regarded his early promo-
tion in bis company. Thus it was, that scarcely
ten days subsequent to the meeting in the Paseo,
which we have described, Lieutenant Bezan was
regularly gazetted as captain of infantiy, by hon-
orable promotion and approval of the governor-
general.
Tills good fortune, as pleasant to him as it was
unexpected, was attributed by the young officer
to the right source, and was m reality enhanced
and valued from that very fact.
" A bumper," exclaimed his brother officers,
that day at the mess-table, when all were met.
"A bumper to Captain Lorenzo Bezan. May
he never draw his sword without cause ; never
sheathe it without honor!"
[to be COXTINUED.]
TIBIE'S PROGRESS.
Alas ! it is not till time with reckless hand has
torn out half the leaves from the book of human
life, to light the fires of passion with from day to
day, that man begins to see that the leaves which
remain are few in number, and to remember
faintly at fii'st, and then more cleaidy, that upon
the early pages of that book was i^Tittcn a story
of happy influence which he would fain read
over again. Then comes listless irresolution
and the inevitable inaction of despair; or else
the firm resolve to record upon the leaves that
still remain a more noble history than the child's
story with which the book began. — Longfellow.
CRITICS.
A man must serve his time at every trade,
Save censure ; critics all are readj"-made :
Take hackneyed jokes from Miller, got hy rote,
ivith just enough of learning to misquote ;
A mind well skilled to forpe or tind a fault,
A turn for panning — call it Attic salt —
Fear not to lie — H viiW seem a lucky bit ;
Shrink not from blasphemy — 't will puss for wit ;
Care not for feeling, pass your project jest, —
And stand a critic^ hated yet caressed.
Byron,
GLEAS()N\S PICTORIAL DRAWII^G ROOM COMPANION.
APPEARANCE OF THE SEA SEllPENT WHEN FIRST SEEN FROM H. B. M. SHIP DiEDALUS.
THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT.
You have not seen his snakeship, perhaps ?
Well, let those who have eyes to see, see him
herewith — a bona fide repi-esentation of a most
remarkable creatm*e, whose htitural propensities
seem to lead him annually — -just about this period
of the year~-to the shores of Nahant and Cape
Ann. Last year he visited us, and year before
last ; and he will, beyond a doubt, be here again
this year. Of course, every captain that sails
out of Boston, from the master of a fishing
smack to a regular liner, has seen the monster,
and very many are the wonderful stories they re-
late. That there is such a creature, however,
there can be but little doubt, as his appearance
has so often been alluded to. One of the best
descriptions, and on the very best authority, is
that which we have seen in the report of an Eng-
lish officer to the war department of his own
country. When the Dadalvs frigate, Captain
M'Quhx, which aiTived at London, not long
since, was on her passage liome from the East
Indies, between the Cape of Good Hope and St.
Helena, her captain, and most of her officers and
crew, at four o'clock one afternoon, saw a sea
serpent. The creature was twenty minutes in
sight of the frigate, and passed imder her quar-
ter. Its head appeared to be about four feet out
of tlie water, and there was about sixty feet of
body in a straight line on the surface. It is cal-
culated that there must have been mider water a
length of thirty or forty feet more, by which it
propelled itself at the rate of fifteen miles an
hour. The diameter of the exposed part of the
body was about sixteen inches ; and when it ex-
tended its jaws, which were full of large jagged
teeth, they seemed sufficiently capacious to ad-
mit of a tall man standing upright between
them. The ship was sailing north at the rate of
eight miles an hour- The Diedalns left the Cape
UWl
TPE l?]EA SERPENT PASSING UNDER THE STERN OF THE D^DALUS.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
HEAD OF THE SEA SERPENT SEEN BY CAPT. M'qUH.E.
of Good Hope on the 30th of July mid reached
St. Helena on the 16th of August. Next, the
foUowmg very interesting report, by Captain
M'Quhce, was forwarded to tlie Admh'alty :
" Her Majesty's Ship Dicdalus, Hamoaze, Oct. H.
" Sir : — In reply to your letter of this day's
date, rcc[uiring information as to the truth of a
statement published in the Times newspaper, of
H sea serpent of extraordinary dimensions having
been seen from her majestj-'s ship Dadalus, un-
der my command, on her passage from the East
Indies, I have the honor to acquaint you, for the
information of my lords commissioners of the
admiralty, that at 5 o'clock, P. M., on the 6th of
August last, in latitude 24 degrees, 44 minutes
south, and longitude 9 degrees, 22 minutes east,
the weather dark and cloudy, wind fresh from
tlic nortlnvest, with a long ocean swell from the
southwest, the ship on the port tack heading
northeast by north, something very unusual was
seen by Mr. Sartoris, midshipman, i"apidly ap-
proaching the ship from before the beam. The
circumstance was immediately reported by him
to the officer of tlie watch, Lieutenant Edgai"
Dnmimond, wltli whom, and Jlr. William Bai"-
ret, the master, I was at the time walking the
quarter-deck. The ship's company were at
supper.
" On our attention being called to the object,
it was discovered to be an enormous serpent,
with head and shoulders kept about four feet
constantly above the siu-face of the sea ; and as
nearly as we could approximate by comparing it
with the length of what our maintopsail-yard
would show in the watei-, there was at the very
least sixty feet of the animal a fienr (Peait, no
portion of which was, to our perception, used in
propelling it throi\gh the water, either by verti-
cal or horizontal undulation. It passed rapidly,
but so close under our lee quarter that had it
been a man of ray acquaintance I should have
easily recognized the features with the naked
eye ; and it did not, either in approaching the
ship, or after it had passed our wake, deviate in
the slightest degree from its course to the south-
west, which it held on at the pace of from twelve
to fifteen miles per hour, apparently on some
determined pui-pose.
" The diameter of the serpent was about fifteen
or sixteen inches behind the head, which was,
without any doubt, that of a snake ; and it was
never, during tlie twenty minutes that it contin-
ued in sight of our glasses, once below the sur-
face of the water — its color a dai"k brown, with
yelloAnsh-white about tlie throat. It had no fins,
but something like the mane of a horse, or rather
a bunch of seaweed, waslied about its back. It
was seen by the quartermaster, the boatswain's
mate, and the man at the wheel, in addition to
myself and officers above mentioned.
" I am having drawings of the sei7)ent made
from a sketch taken immediately after it was
seen, which I hope to have ready for transmis-
sion to my lords commissioners of the admiralty
by to-morrow's post. I have, etc.,
" Peter M'Quh-e, Captain.
" To Admiral Sir W. H. Gage, G. C- H."
Dr. Robert Hamilton, the editor of the Natu-
ralist's Library, describes an animal apparently
belonging to this class, which was stranded on
the Isle of Stronsay, one of the Orkneys, in
1808. It was first seen entire, and measm'ed by
reputable individuals ; and its remains are pre-
served in the museum of the university of Edin-
burgh, and in the museum of the royal college
of the surgeons. It measured fifty-six feet in
length and twelve in circumference. The head
was small, not being a foot in length, from the
snout to the first vertebra; the neck was slen-
der, extending fifteen feet. All accounts assign
it blow-holes. On the shoulders, something like
a bristly mane commenced, which extended to
near the extremity of the tail. It had three pair
of fins, or paws, connected with the body. Dr.
i"'leming suggests that these members were,
probably, the remains of pectoral, ventral and
caudal fins. The skin was smooth, without
scales, and of a gi-ayish color. The eye was of
the size of the seal's ; the throat was too naiTow
to admit the hand. Various other accounts
have from time to time been given by eye-wit-
nesses, all going to show lliat the existence of
such an animal may be considered as settled.
The dra^vings refeired to in the above l.'tter
were transmitted, and aix here given. These pic-
tures represent his snakeship in various states
and positions. It appears that he is no modem
invention ; for as early as 1 740, there appeared
accounts of those who had seen him. Below,
we give a view of the creature, as it appeared as
seen in 1740. The large head which we repre-
resent herewith, is very like a seal's, and the
body generally is agile and eel-like. The divi-
sions are to show the anatomical form of the
sea serpent.
THE SEA SERPENT. FAC-SIMILE FROM EGEDE's WORK. 1740.
GLEAS[)N'S nC'TOPJAL DRAAVIXG nOO:M CO^MPANION.
[U'rltten for Olcnson'H PictorJiil.]
REIVIE:tlimANCE.
BY Wn.LIAM W. GlUDlKaB.
I 'II think of tliflo, T '11 thinli of theo,
'W'lioti morn Il}<Iit;i up tlic blushing Hky ;
When ovury Mnl in on it.t wing,
Autl every ihiImj in Ijciiting high.
1 11 thiiiU of tlu-o, 1 'II thinlc of thco,
Wlicn hU is llri^;llt in nnturo'fl bower;
When bri'iithcrt her frapa'ance o'ov tho fl«n,
And joy upcukH forth from every flower.
3 'II think nf theo, 1 '11 think of thee,
When ploiiflnre'H cup ia flowiuR nigh ;
When every heart i.s light unci free,
And hope beams fortli from bcauty'a oyo.
I '11 think of thee, I '11 think of thco,
When evening's qiiiot hour's caresB,
Wakes not imoto from yonder Ion,
Antl all la calm on natui-o's breust.
I ni think of thee, I 'U think of tlicc,
When autumn strowH the forest walk ;
When sadness marka the leiifloss tree.
And sorrow bows the withering stalk.
I 'II think of thco, I "11 think of thee,
"^^liero'or 1 tustc of soito.v's eup ;
Then will I turn kind thoughts to theo.
Thy thoughts shall buoy my spirit up.
i — >*^ »
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE LAZZARONI.
AN INCIDENT IN THE CAREER OF ERA DIAVOLO.
BT FRANCIS A. DURIVAGE.
Among the many foreigners resident at Na^
pies, in the year IS — , was a young American,
by tite name of Walter Randolph. For a few
weeks after his arrival, he employed himself al-
most "wlioUy in examining the marvels of tlio
city and its environs. He ascended the volcano
more than once ; he wandered whole days
among the vine-clad hills ; he visited the famous
grotto, and many a moonlight night he passed
upon the silver waters of the matchless bay. It
was on one of these aquatic excursions that he
was happy enoiagh to save from drowning a poor
lazzaroni, ■who rejoiced in the baptismal name of
Carlo, and whose gratitude to the young Ameri-
cano was boundless. People seem to value their
lives in exact proportion to their worthlessness.
If Carlo had tried to convince a French philo;'0-
pher of the importance of his preservation, tlie
Gaul would probably hare answered that he did
not sec the necessity. But Randolph, with his
poetical euthusiasm, could easily comprehend
tlie value of existence to so poor a man as Car-
lo, beneath such a sky as tliat of Naples. He felt
that the glories of that transparent atmosphere
could reconcile the lazzaroni to a costume of
rags, a diet of maccaroni and nuts, and an un-
canopied couch upon a flight of steps at tlic base
of a noble's palace.
The gratitude of the rescued man was bound-
less; he knelt down and kissed the feet of the
noble "signer," the "excellentissimo," and
swore etemal fidelity. The American regarded
this excessive homage with some contempt, but
he pardoned it on account of its cliaracteristic
nationality. He became accustomed, too, to
seeing Carlo sleeping on his doorstep, and his
daily gratuities to the hazzaroni sustained the life
lie had pi'cserved. The Kcapolitan proved an
excellent guide in the city and its environs, and
Randolph had no reason to regrcthis patronage.
Carlo, though as great a liar as the rest of his
trilie, never deceived his patron.
At last, Randolph, who was rich and without
a profession, began to weary of his idle life, and
would have cpxitted Naples for some other city,
had he not chanced one day to encounter a most
eliarmiug girl, wh.osc cxcpusite figure and sweet
face, whose dark Italian eyes,
" Sweetest eyes were ever seen,
Fiery, loving and serene,"
made him give up instantly a projected visit to
Rome, unpack bis trunks and countermand his
vcttnrino.
lie fiew to Carlo, and described the beauty
who had so suddenly captivated his imagination.
''Pel' Bacc/toT' said the lazzaroni, " this must
be no other than Ninctta CastclU, the daughter
of obi Nicolo Castelli, a retired tradesman. Ah!
fhv has given many a man tlie lieart-aclic, sig-
nor. Hut I pray your excellency to dismiss lier
fitnn your mind,"
"Why so, Carlo? Is she unwortliy of an
honest adiuiralion '{"
"Njt so, excellency. She is ns beaiiliful as
she is good — an angel of virtue and charity. But
alas ! she is doomed,"
" To the convent !"
** No, signor; but she is the object of the per-
secutions of Count Fiiilto, a man whom she as
well as all Naiiles abhors. He is powerful and
nndevolcnt. Wo to the man who presents liim-
seir as the count's rival !"
"I care not for enmity," rei)lied Randolph,
wilh a scornrnl lau;;h. " Ymi have given mc
only an additional motive for courting her av-
quaintancc — her frieud-diip. lias she !)rothcrs'f"
" She has no friend in the world except her
old father."
" Do you know where she lives V
" Surely, signor, I were no Nea])olitan else."
" Then, Carlo, to-night you shall take me be-
neath her window."
" At what Iiour ?"
" When the moon rises."
"And where .shall I meet you, signor?"
" Here at tJic door of my lodgings.'*
" I will not fail, excellency."
The intervening time passed heavily with
Randolph. The little that had fallen from the
lazzai'oni deepened the interest he Iiad previous-
ly felt in the young beauty. Lovely, ti-ue-iieart-
cd, the object of an unwelcome suit, the romance
of his wai'm southern nature was enlisted in her
behalf
At the appointed hour, taking his cloak and
guitar, Randolph followed Carlo to the hiunble
residence of the young beauty. It was a deli-
cious summer night, and the moon, wliilc it
gilded the high parapets of the houses, suffered
all beneath to repose in the blackest shadow.
Randolph touched the guitar gracefully, and
sang well for an amateur. His serenade, a well-
known and favorite Neapolitan air, did credit to
his voice and skill. At its conclusion, a lattice
was opened, and a white hand, just discernible
in the reflected moonlight, tossed him a fj-agrant
orange blossom. He pressed it to his lips, and
grateful for this slight token of interest, retunied
to his lodging to dream till daylight of Ninetta.
The very next day he was so fortunate as to
secure an introduction to the young girl, and was
as much delighted with her intelligence as with
her beauty. Day after day he sought her out,
and with a rapidity that sometimes surprised
him.self ; liis interest ripened into warm affection,
which was reciprocated. The old father was
gratified by the engagement, and the future
seemed to smile brightly on the two young lov-
ers. Even Count Fialto, whom Randolpli once
or twice encountered, as if despairing of success,
seemed to have abandoned the field to his foreign
rival. The day was fixed for the nuptials.
One afternoon, Randolph having made an ex-
cursion on horseback, in the environs of Naples,
had halted in the shade of a heavy growth of
trees that skirted the road. Ilere, dismounting
from his horse, he had turned him loose to graze,
and stretched upon a grassy bank was musing
over his approaching happiness, a never-failing
theme of meditation to a young man in ]iis
position.
Carlo, who always accompanied his patron,
running by Ids stirrup, or holding on by the tail
of his liorse, had also imitated Randolph's ex-
ample by throwing himself at full length upon
the grass, only he selected the roadside for the
place of his repose, for, lazzaroni-likc, he ever
preferred the sunlight to the shade. He was
just sinking into a luxurious doze, when a near
footstep startled him. Sitting up, he beheld a
man of commanding mien, and richly attired,
who saluted him with some civility.
"You arc Carlo, the lazzaroni, I believe?"
said the stranger.
" Yes, excellency."
"And attached to the service of a young
American by the name of Signor Randolph ?"
" I have that honor, excellency."
"I am going to Naples in search of him,"
said the gentleman, " having letters of introduc-
tion fiom his friends at Rome. Y'ou will please
infonn me where he lodges."
" 1 can do better than that," said the lazzaro-
ni. " I can present you at once to his excellency."
"Indeed !" said the stranger, with a courteous
smile, " that is an unexpected gratification."
The lazzaroui rose, and led the stranger into
the presence of liis patron.
" Signor Randolph," said the visitor, "I e.s-
teem myself very fortunate in meeting you. I
am the bearer of a letter from your friend AVil-
son, yonr travelling companion ns far as Rome,"
and he extended a letter.
"Any friend of Wilson's is mine," said Ran-
dolph, conrteoiisly simking hands with tlic
Htrangcr, and then glancing at the letter. "The
Chevalier Colonna, I perceive."
" That is my name," said the stranger. "1
am the sole rcjircsentativc of a once great name.
lint wo have fallen on evil days. A few pictures
and a ruined palace arc all tlint remain of my
once i)rincely patrimony."
" It is joy and pride enough to be a native of
this ^rlnrious country," cried Randolph, entliusi-
astically.
Carlo, the introduction finished, retired to re-
sume the broken thread of his si'psfa.
The two young men engaged in an animated
conversation — antiquities, painting, sculpture,
music, the opera, wore discussed with taste and
interest. Tlic chevalier was so fluent and fasci-
nating that time rolled on unperceivcd, till Ran-
dolph all at once noticed that the sky was grow-
ing dark with night.
" It is time we shoidd return to Naples," he
said.
" Yes," cried tlio stranger, in a loud voice,
springing to his feet. " The hour has arriced!"
In an instant the grove was filled with armed
banditti, and the muzzles of a dozen carbines
were levelled at the head of tlie American.
Randolph drew a pistol, but before he could
cock it, it was snatched from his hand by the
chevalier.
"Who are you, scoundrel?" cried Randolph,
in choice Italian.
"You are- complimentary, excellency, to a
gentleman who had the honor of an introduction
from a friend of yours."
" The introduction was either forged or stolen,"
retorted Randolph.
" Right," replied tlie stranger.
" Of course you are not the Chevalier Colon-
na— "
" The sole representative of a once great
name," interrupted the stranger, laughingly
quoting his own words. "No more than you
are, signor."
" Then who arc you ?" cried Randolph, stamp-
ing his foot impatiently.
The stranger raised himself to his fuU height,
and fixing his eagle glance upon the young
American, replied:
" Men call me Fra Diavoh!"
" A leader of footpads and cutthroats !" said
Randolph, scornfully. " Well, the chance is
yours. Take my money and my watch. Here
are two or three rings of value — take all, and rid
me of your presence."
A crimson glow flushed the swarthy cheek of
the robber at the first words of his prisoner, and
the fingers of his right hand convulsively clutch-
ed the hilt of his stiletto ; but tlie flush passed
away, leaving his cheek of its natural sallow hue,
while the fire in his eyes gave way to an expres-
sion almost pensive and sad.
" Y'oung man," he said, "it is evident you
know me not, and form but a stranger's estimate
of my character. I am no footpad or assassin.
If I were the first, I should not bid you retain
your property ; if I were the second, I should
not withhold the command to fire. Look on
these men — every eye glances along a carbine
barrel straight to your heart; there is a finger
on every trigger. A word of mine would con-
sign you to instant death !"
Fra Diavolo, for it was indeed that celebrated
bandit, enjoyed the involuntary shudder which
even the brave Randolph could not suppress as he
marked the deadly preparations around ; then, at
a wave of his hand, the robbers recovered their
pieces,
" If you refuse my money," said Randolph,
" you will suffer me to mount my horse and re-
turn to Naples."
" Excuse mc," said Fra Diavolo. " Y''ou are
a gallant young fellow, and I have taken a fancy
to you. You must up with me to the mountains,
and see how we Italian outlaws live."
"Impossible!" said Randolph, thinking with
agony of a separation from his betrotlicd ; " there
are those in the city I cannot leave. Hark 3'ou,
I am rich ; name the price of my liberty, and
however large the ransom, I will send it }ou by
a sure hand."
" Who will be your messenger?" asked the
robber chief.
" Carlo, the lazzaroni."
" Umph !" muttered the robber; "lie knows
our haunts, for we have trusted him. Go, Mat-
teo," he added to his lieutenant, " find out Car-
lo, and secure this gentleman's horse, and bring
them both hither."
During the absence of his ofllccr, he said, ad-
dressing his prisoner :
"Your ofter is temjiting; and wci'c I alono
concerned in this affair, I might accept it. But
it cannot be. In fact, your liberty wa.s the prize
of this adventure. You must go with us,"
" Yon have an accomplice, then," cried Ran-
dolph, eagerly. "Some enemy of mine; and
yet there is hut one man at Naples I can suspect
of proninling an attempt njmn my liberty. Is
it Count Fialto ?"
The robber's countenance bore the keen ficm-
tiny of his prisoner's glance without quailing,
" Comit Fialto!" he replied, with a smile,
" Well, yon are wicle enough of the mark,"
Here the lieutenant returned, out of breath.
"Captain," said he, "Carlo has aliKcondcd,
and doubtless earned off the signer's Iiorse, I
could find nothing of either."
" He deserts me, too," thought Randolph.
" Malediction !" cried the robber chief, " No
matter; Carlo is true, I think. But we must
march, comrades. It is not .safe for robbers to
remain on ground where cavalry can manoiuvre ;
and yet, the last time they came against us, Mat-
teo, we emptied a few saddles, I believe."
The lieutenant smiled grimly, and nodded his
head ; and then the robbers, foiming closely
around Randolph, hurried liim along through
winding paths, till they began to ascend, and
were soon far enough from the city.
The following morning dawned upon the sum-
mit of a wild eminence, where, amid crags and
woods, the robber chief had, like an eagle, built
his mountain nest. The banditti were sleeping
on their arms, except a few who were posted a.-s
sentinels at various points. Fra Diavolo and
his prisoner were both awake.
" You made but a sorry meal last night, sig-
nor," said the chieftain. "A cup of wine would
have cheered up your spirits ; but, to say the
truth, my last skin was exhausted yestemoon."
Randolph made an inarticulate reply, for his
mind was far away with Ninctta in her lonely
home.
At this moment, a shrill whistle far below was
answered from point to point, as if by the moim-
tain echoes.
The next moment, emerging from a wooded
path, a male and a female peasant, gaily dressed
in their lioliday attire, came towards the chief-
tain, bending under the weight of heavy wine-
skins.
"Halloo!" cried the chieftain; "come you
from Mazetti ?"
" Y^es, please your excellency," cried the man.
" He gave you the passwords ?"
The jieasant nodded.
"And this girl?"
" Is my sister, please your excellency."
" A right comely damsel," cried the robber.
" She shall give me a kiss ere I taste her wine,"
But the pea.<!ant maid shrunk back, and clung
trembling to her brother.
"Nay, nay," said the robber; "Fra Diavolo
never forced his attentions on a woman. Y'"ou
are safe here, pretty maiden, as in your own cot-
tage. What, ho! comrades; up, up, here's
wine enough for all I But hold, fellow, is all
safe below?"
" Mazetti bade mc tell your excellency that all
is quiet."
" Then call in all the sentinels, Matteo, and
let us be mcny together."
The robbers grouped themselves together on
the grass; the peasants unpacked their stores,
and tlie wine and jest went round the bandit
group.
What was there in the air of the peasant girl
that sent a thrill to the heart of Randolph ? Her
hair, unlike the raven tresses of Ninetta, had the
rich auburn hue that Titian loved to paint; her
face and arms were sunburnt ; but there was
something in the form of her features — some-
thing in one tender glance she shot upon him
that reminded him of his beloved. And her
companion ; he was trimly dressed and neatly
shaved, and yet a certain something in his air
reminded Randolph of Carlo.
" Y'ou don't drink," said the chieftain, offer-
ing Randolph his cup.
" I've just filled for the signor," said the pea-
sant girl, putting a cup in Randolph's hand. In
doing so she stooped and whispered in his ear;
"Drink none of /(('i wine. I will take care of
you."
" Yonr health, signor," said Randolph, bow-
ing.
" My pretty maid," said Fra Diavolo, gazing
on the peasant girl with admiration, " 1 dispens-
ed Willi a kiss from those ros}' lips; bu you
must pay ibrfeit. Y'ou dance, 1 suppose?"
GLEASON'S riCTOPJAL DRAAVITsTx ROOM COMPANION.
" Only with my brother here."
" Very good," said the robber. " Then -while
we dnnk, you two shall dance. What shall it
bcl"
" The Spanish bolero," answered the peasant
girl.
" As for music," said the brig:and, "here's a
guitar, hut I don't know the bolero."
"Excuse me," said Randolph, "but if you
will hand me the instrument, I think I can recall
tixe air."
As he swept his fingers over the strings, the
peasants dashed into the graceful and lively
Spanl-^h dance, executing it to the admiration of
tlic spectators.
"Encora, Encora!" shouted Fra Diavolo.
" Once more the bolero !"
" Be ready," said the peasant, to Randolph,
" to commence the air when I give tlie signal."
"iVofC (s the time!" he shouted, in a loud voice.
In an instant, twenty carbineers sprang from
as many points of the surrounding forest on tlie
astounded brigands. The robbei-s seized their
arras and sprang to their feet, but the wine they
had di-utdv freely had been drugged, and the
shots they fired were wild and harmless. Fling-
ing down their carbines, they took to tlieir
knives, but a spell seemed playing upon them,
and their poignards fell from their nerveless
grasps. Fra Diavolo alone oft'ercd a desperate
resistance.
Early in the conflict the peasant had seized
Randolph, and, with the peasant girl, hunied
him to a place of comparative safety.
" Excellency," said the peasant, "don't you
know mc V
■ " That voice !" cried tlie bewildered Randolph ;
" it should be Carlo's."
" Yes, excellency, Carlo, the lazzaroni, who
sacrificed his darling beard and rags for the sake
of saving you, who oven w;ished liimself for your
sake, excellency," he added, in touching allusion
to the extent of his sacrifice. " Wlien I found
you in their hands," he added, " I found I could
do nothing better than carry news of tlie surprise
to the city ; so I mounted your horse and es-
caped, I warned the authorities, but it was too
late to do anything that night, and besides I
knew enough of Fra Diavolo to know he would
not harm yon. In the morning the commandant
agreed to place a company of carbineers under
my guidance. I knew the haunts of the robbers,
and led them directly to the spot."
" But Ninetta — how is Ninetta ?" cried Ran-
dolph, eagerly.
"Let her answer for herself," replied Carlo,
pointing to his companion.
She had torn the false tresses from her head,
and the peasant girl, now transformed into Nin-
etta Castelli, stood smiling on her lover.
" And you could dare so much for me !" cried
Randolph, folding her in liis anns. " I owe you
eternal gratitude."
The conflict had now ceased ; and when Ran-
dolph and his companions returned to the scene
of action, they found Fra Diavolo and his band
in the hands of the carbineers. The robber
chieftain cast a vcngefnl and menacing glance at
Carlo, but refused to speak a word. The whole
party now took up the line of march for Naples,
Fra Diavolo being placed in the centre of the
column.
On the tiial of the celebrated robber. Count
Fialto, at wliose instigation the brigands had
carried off Randolph, was sufficiently implicated
to secure him a life-sentence to the galleys. Fra
Diavolo was condemned to death, but on the eve
of the execution of liis sentence, contrived to
effect his escape and retreat to the mountains.
By many it was thought that the authorities,
dreading the vengeance of his comrades, had
connived at his evasion.
Randolph, mamed to Ninetta, returned with
his bride and Iier father to America, whither
Carlo, the lazzaroni, accompanied him as a ser-
vant. He makes a very acceptable valet, though
he is somewhat given to laTiiness and maccaroni,
and is fond of telling very long-winded stories
of adventures in the environs of Naples. Fra
Diavolo pursued liis career for some years long-
er, but was finally captured and condemned, we
believe, to imprisonment for life.
I have seen persons who gather in the parlor
choicest flowers, just as they begin to open into
full bloom and fragrance, "lest some passer-by
should tear' them from the bu^h and destroy
tliem. Does not God sometimes gather into
heaven young and innocent children for the same
]Ta.=:on— lest some rude hand may despoil them
of their beauty ?
[Written for Glcason^s Pictorial.]
THE INDIAN MAIDEN:
— OR —
KINDXESS REWAEDED.
BY 5IItS. M. E. ROBINSON.
About the year 1763, the celebrated chieftain
Pontiac, with a large number of warriors, wo-
men and cliildren, encamped at Detroit, in the
vicinity of a fort garrisoned by three hundred
men, and commanded by Major Gladwin. From
the fii-st, amicable relations had been established,
and so raueh friendliness and good will had been
manifested on the part of the Indians that tlie
entire confidence and trust of the commander
had been gained. Unrestricted trade Avas car-
ried on, for the former brought many commodi-
ties wliich they seemed anxious to dirposc of,
and which were not unacceptable to the garrison
for the supply of their wants.
One day, soon after their encampment. Major
Gladwin was within the fort, conferring with one
of the oflicei-s respecting a measure upon which
he was undecided, when a messenger from their
new neighbors was announced. Orders were
given for his admittance, and immediately a tall,
majestic -looking Indian made his appearance.
" What does my red brother wish?" said the
major, after the usual foniialilies of greeting had
been interchanged.
" I come from the great war-chief Pontiac,"
he replied. " Last night our chiefs and waniors
sat long over the council fire. Thej' talked of
you, brother."
" Return my thanks for the remembrance,"
rejoined Gladwin, as the Indian paused, as il'
awaiting some reply.
" Tlie great chief would be on still more
friendly terms with his white brothers. He
would eat with him ; he would drink with him,
and with him would smoke the pipe of peace,"
resumed the red man. " He is not unmindful of
the kindness of the pale faces, and in person
would make new promises of friendship, and
speak his thanks. This is his message. Shall
bis wish be granted V
" Assuredly," answered the commandant, with-
out the least hesitation. " I am grateful for this
new instance of fiiendship on tlie part of your
cliief, and willingly assent to a meeting which
will tend to strengthen the bonds of brotherhood
and make still brighter the chaiu of peace be-
tween us. To-monow, at ten, we will be in
readiness."
" The wliite chief is good," said the Indian,
with dignity. " It is well ; I will return to my
people," and turning abruptly he left the fort.
Major Gladwin congratulated himself on this
additional instance of good will on the part of
Pontiac, for it augured well for the future, and
he knew the advantages of remaining on good
terms with such a powerful chief too well to let
an opportunity pass of satisfying them of his
peaceable intentions. He was not sorry they
were to meet, as he surmised such a measure
could not have otherwise than a good effect; it
would indeed "brighten the Ihiks in the golden
chain of peace," and put them on a more famil-
iar footing with each other.
He was sitting, engaged in tlicse reflections,
wlien he felt a liglit touch on his shoulder.
Turning, he beheld a beautiful Indian maiden
standing quietly by liis side.
" Ah, Minnis !" he exclaimed, cordially grasp-
ing her hand and smiling a welcome. "How
you startled mc ! But you are as light of step
as ever ; that is why I was unaware of your
presence. TVTiat news to-day?"
The maiden smiled somewhat sadly, and for
answer drew a pair of beautiful moecasons from
beneath lier blanket, and with native grace, ten-
dered tliem to tlie major. On a previous visit
the latter had shown Minnis a curious elk skin,
which she immediately offered to form into some-
thing useful as well as ornamental, and this was
the result.
"They are beautiful, Minnis, very beautiful,"
said the commandant, earnestly, as he admiring-
ly surveyed the ornamental workmanship. "I
did not know you could make such pretty ones.
I fear they cost you much time and labor."
"If they plea.'^c my white brother, I am glad.
It was the best the poor Indian maiden could
do," she replied.
" They do indeed please me, and I only fear I
shall not be able to repay you," added the ma-
jor. And saying this, he attempted to place a
piece of money within her hand. But slie al-
most indignantly di-ew back, and peremptorily
refused it.
"Minnis wishes no reward. Tlie white chief
has been kind to her, and the red maiden can
show gratitude as well as her white sisters," was
her proud rejily.
"Well, then, if you will not receive money, I
can, at least, thank you. And I shall insist that
you keep the remainder of the skin which you
have so conscientiously returned, and make a
pair for your own use," he added.
" As my white brother pleases," was the brief
reply, as she mechanically took the skin. But
the Indian maiden seemed reluctant to leave the
room ; her movements were slow and unwilling,
and when Gladwin looked up and found himself
alone, he could not but remember her sad, wist-
ful, earnest looks, and her unusually melancholy
appearance. This was unlike her, for she was
generally in buoyant spirits, and quite talkative
during lier visits to the wliites. The major had
taken an unusual interest in the maiden, for she
was intelligent, apt, as well as beautiful in per-
son, and manifested an uncommon desh-e to ac-
quire a knowledge of civilized life.
As night came on, and tlie guard (whose bu-
siness it was to close the gates and see that no
strangers were left within), were performing their
duty, word was brought to the commandant
that an Indian woman was lurking about the
fort. He directed them, in some sm*prise, to
conduct her to his presence, which was immedi-
ately done.
" Minnis !" he exclaimed, in astonishment. " I
thought it was a stranger, as I imagined you had
left some hours ago."
" It is only me, brother," she replied.
" And why do you linger 1 The gates will
soon be shut for the night. Can I do aught for
you?" asked the major, kindly.
" I did not wish to take away the skin, as the
white chief values it so highly," she answered,
with evident embaiTassmcnt.
" But you did not make this objection before,"
he added, quickly. " I do not quite understand
you, Minnis."
The maiden seemed confused at this remark,
and dropped her eyes under the earnest gaze of
her interrogator.
" If I take the skin away to-night, tlic great
captain will never see that or tlie poor Indian
maiden again," she at last uttered, after a most
painful pause.
" And why not ?" was the astonished query.
The maiden answered not, but looked quickly
and suspiciously about the room, and then with
noiseless step crossed the apartment and closed
the door, which was slightly ajar. This done,
she returned to her former jjlace.
" I don't know what to think of this. Your
conduct sadly puzzles mc," said the major, who
had attentively observed all these singular move-
ments, and thought he detected a desire on tlic
part of Minnis to say sonietliing, were she not
restrained by some powerful emotion. " Do not
fear to tell me anT,ihing wliich you may consider
as important for mc to know, for you can fully
confide in me," he added, kindly. " You may
unhesitatingly reveal it, and will run no risk of
betrayal."
" Did not one of my people visit you to-day ?"
she asked, still looking cautiously around, as
though expecting one of her tribe to rise up be-
fore her with flashing eyes and revengeful looks.
" Yes ; Pontiac sent a messenger, requcsthig
to meet me in council, for the purpose of strength-
ening our friendship, and to-morrow was named
a fitting time," was the rejoinder.
" It is a plot ; Pontiac has decreed that the
pale faces shall perish before another sun sinks
in the west!" she whispered, while her slioht
figure trembled with fear.
"Tell me all — tell me quickly !" cried Glad-
win, much excited. "And if you fear harm,
protection and safety will always be afforded you
here."
" To-morrow, when my people shall come to
have a talk, they will speak fair, but yet be wary
and cunning ; and if my white brothers be not
on their guard, the knife and tomahawk will do
their work !" said Minnis, in a low, hunied tone.
" And is there not some signal agreed upon?"
earnestly asked the major.
" My people will come to the council with their
guns shortened, that tliey may conceal them be-
neath their blankets ; and v^ hen the war-chief is
making liis speech, and draws fortli his peace
belt of wampum and presents it to the great cap-
tain, then will they fall upon him and his men."
" I have never doubted the sincerity of your
friendship for the whites, and this noble instance
of fiiithfulness confirms it," added Gladwin, with
much feeling. " I can only repeat my thanks
for the important service you have rendered me.
Should your people discover that you liave ever
liintcd this thing to me, I tremble for your safe-
ty; you will have nothing to hope and everv-
thing to fear. I do not need to say that if yon
will remain with us, your happiness and well
being will be my care ; and if you go, my good
wishes will go with you."
" I will go," replied Minnis, briefly ; and after
a few more questions on the part of the major,
she was conducted without the fort, and the gates
securely closed.
After imparting this important discovery to
his officers and men, the commandant immedi-
ately began to make preparations for defence.
He repeated as much of the plot as he thought
necessaiy to the garrison, and instnictcd them
how to act at the approaching council. He also
sent messengers to all the traders in the vicinity
of the fort, with directions to be upon their
guard.
It was most fortunate that he liad been appria-
ed of the treacherous plot soon enough to allow
him ample time for preparation ; for the Indian
girl had added, as she left his presence, that
while the " council " was sitting, many of the
warriors would assemble within the fort, armed
alike, on the pretence of trading. Being "fore-
warned " they could be " fore-armed," and this
could be prevented.
Although Major Gladwin had no particular
fears for the result, yet when the morning dawn-
ed, and he anxiously cast his eyes towards the
neighboring encampment, he looked ill at ease.
In fact, every countenance wore a different as-
pect, and uneasiness of mind was plainly visible
in the quick, hun-ied step and nervous glances ;
though it liad been decided that they should ap-
pear to manifest no suspicion in the presence of
the Indians.
Ten o'clock had been agreed upon as the hour
for the council ; and as the hands upon the dial
indicated its nearness, every eye was turned in
the direction of the Indian neighborhood. . Punc-
tual to the time, Pontiac, witli his thirty-six chiefs
and a long train of warriors, made their ajapear-
ance. Gladwin received them with his usual
urbanity, and when a stipulated number had en-
tered, the gates were closed.
Pontiac seemed somewhat sui-prised at per-
ceiving the troops under arms, and keenly scru-
tinized them, looking, as the commandant
thought, slightly disappointed.
" Why does the big captain make so much
parade ?" asked the chief, of Gladwin. " I come
to talk and smoke, not to fight with my white
brothers."
" Certainly, certainly," answered the major,
blandly. " But the great chief knows that the
men must be exercised in time of peace as well
as in war."
Pontiac bowed gravely, seeming satisfied with
the answer, the major's frank demeanor left no
room for suspicion. After the customarv cere-
monies, Pontiac commenced his speech, and
after a long tirade, highly complimenting the
whites, and hoping for a continuance of their
friendship, he lowered his hand to give the desig-
nated signal — that of drawing forth tlie belt of
wampum.
At that instant the chief looked up, and dis-
covered the major and his attendants in the act
of drawing their swords from their scabbards ;
while the ti'oops, clenching their guns with finn-
ness, and assuming attitudes of defence, assured
him that his well laid plot was suspected, if not
entirely understood. With all his bravery, the
chieftain became confused, while every Indian
showed unmistakable signs of astonishment.
Finding tiie scheme brought to light, and wish-
ing to avoid an open discovery, the' ceremony of
passing the belt was omitted, and Pontiac closed
his speech with many profes:.ions of friendship
for the English.
The commandant arose to reply. He did not
reproach Pontiac for his treachery, but frankly
told him he could not ensnare tliein ; they knew
his whole plan, and were prepared for any emer-
gency.
The chief, now that he had regained his pres-
ence of mind, endeavored to excuse himself, and
convince the major that they were still good
friends to the whites, and wished to remain so.
The latter made no reply ; but stepping to the
_^ warrior next him, drew aside his blanket, and
-pointed to the short gun which thus became ex-
posed. This silent proof of their faithlessness
was so evident that it covered them with confusion.
Gladwin ordered Pontiac to leave tlie fort, or
he would not answer for the consequences, as the
indignation of the garrison had alreadv begun to
manifest itself. The chief, with his discomfited
followers, did not wait for a second permission,
but quickly departed without a word. As the
last disappeared, and the gates were onec more
securely fastened, a sensation of gratitude filled
every heart within the walls of tlie fort. Nor
did they forget thatthey owed their almost mirac-
ulous escape from certain death to Miuufs, the
red daughter of the forest.
GLEASON'S PlCTOrJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
JAP/VNESE MARRIAGE CEREMONIES.
CUSTOMS AND COSTUIVIES OF JAPAN.
At the present moment, wlien the empire of
Japan and its people have been brouoht so prom-
inently before the attention of the pnblie, through
the action of the government ofthc United States
in sending an armed expedition to endeavor
to open the ports of
that nation to our
commerce, it is -with
pleasure that we pre-
sent to om- readers a
series of views illus-
trative of the customs
of that most singular
people. It must be
borne in mind that
information in regard
to the Japanese is
difficult to be had,
from the fact that their
ports are liermetically
sealed against the en-
trance of foreigners,
so that we possess lit-
tle that is reliable. —
The following state-
ments may, however,
be regarded as au-
thentic. The Japan-
ae are a mixed race
of Mongul and Malay
origin. Their lan-
guage is polysylla-
bic, and has an alpba-
"bet of forty-seven let-
ters, which are written
in five different forms,
one of which is used
exclusively by the
men, and another by
the women. The peo-
ple of this nation are
well made, active, free
and easy in their mo-
tions, and stout limb-
ed. The men are mid-
dle sized, and in gen-
eral not corpulent,
yellow eonii)lexions,
oblong black eyes,
which are deeply sunk
in the head ; short
and flat noses, broad
head and black hair.
Tliey arc said to be
an intelligent and pro-
vident people, inquisi-
tive and ingenious,
frank and good liu-
morcd, upright and
honest, brave and un-
yielding, capable of
concealing their feel-
ings in an extraordi-
nai*y degree, but dis-
trustful, proud, unfor-
giving and revengeful. The accompanying il-
lustrations will give the readers of the Pictorial
a general idea of the customs and manners of
the people and of their agi-icultural pursuits.
The first of the series is a representation of their
marriage ceremony. The bride and groom are
seen within a small temple erected over a gro-
tesque idol, who holds in his hand a chain, sym-
bolical of the binding obligation of matrimony.
In their hands they hold burning tapers, which
are crossed in front of the priest who is perform-
ing the ceremony. On the right of the temple is
METIIOU OF AGEICULTUllE AMONG TIIE JAPANESE.
seen the dignitary who gives away the bride, and
his attendants. "On the left are a party of musi-
dam, who are perfonnmq upon gongs and other
musical instruments ; while in the foreground aro
a party of friends offering up sacrifices to propi-
tiate the god or idol. Two figures are repre-
sented bearing aloft
the emblems of the
woman's duty and
obedience, in a rude
spinning wheel and
staff. On the left is
represented their \^'ay
-,— _-^ of ti-avcUing, on the
" backs of oxen, and in
rude carts, horses be-
ing very scarce. Their
maiTiages are con-
ducted with many ri-
diculous ceremonies.
The emperor gives
the brides to the lords,
who peifonn the same
office for their vassals
AVives are purchased
of their relations like
cattle, and have no
more choice of mas-
ters than they; hence
a large family of
daughtei-s are an ex-
cellent stock in trade
to their parents or
guardians. Afcer the
jjerformance of the
ceremony, shown in
the engraving, the
party proceeds to tiic
house of the groom,
where he most com-
monly sees his wife's
face for the fii"st time,
it havmg been closely
veiled until now. Her
teeth are now dyed
black, and (in some
parts of the empire)
her eyebrows are sha-
ved off", and after fes-
tivity and feasting she
is waited upon to her
apartments, where she
ever after remains in a,
great measure seclud-
ed from the world.
Great attention is
paid to agriculture
among the Japanese,
and it meets with con-
siderable encourage-
ment from govcrr-
ment. Kice is the
principal grain, wheat
and the other corial
grains being but little
grown , 0\\ the other
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING EOOM COMPANION.
9
JAPANESE MAN AND AVOMAN OF RANK.
JAPANESE COUNTRY PEOPLE.
plains trenches are dug at right angles and intersecting cacli other, for the
pui-posc of thoroughly irrigating the land. The rice is planted in April,
in beds between the trenches, and is gathered in November, and from the
thorough and unniitigating attention given to its culture, yields a large
and highly remunerative crop, liice is to the Japanese what potatoes are
to the Irish, and com to the Yankee — his staple. Every inch of ground,
even to the sides of steep mountains, are rendered available by building-
stone walls, which are filled in "with earth until they present level plat-
forms, whereon their gardens arc planted. Our second illusti-ation repre-
sents their mode of plowing and threshing, the latter operation being
sometimes pevfonned by beating the grain against upright posts, and at
others by being threshed on mats with a flail having three swingles. In
the background is represented a steep acclivity, on the sides of which may
be seen some of the artificial gardens above noticed.
The dress of the Japanese consists generally of a short upper garment
with wide sleeves, and a long under dress reaching to the heels, after the
fashion of ladies of our own land, except that they are not so full,
which renders the action of their lower limbs very much constrained.
Great pains arc taken with the hair, which is oiled and gathered in a tuft
on the top of the head. The only difference between the costume of tlic
upper and lower classes is that the gai-ments of tlie former are of silk,
beautifully embroidered, while those of the latter are of coai'se stufi^, and
allow of more freedom of movement. The accompanjnng cuts represent
a man and woman of high rank, and two rustiL:?, on^. of whom is mounted
on a species of buffalo, which is much used by the lower classes as a beast
JAPANESE PRAYING MACHINE.
of burden. The Japanese wear no hats, except the higher orders, who
when exposed for any time to the sun's rays, are accompanied by a ser-
vant, who carries a conical cap made of paper, as shown in the engraving,
which covers the upper part of their master's or mistress's person.
Our small illustration represents the praying machine of the Japanese.
Every mountain, hill or clift" on the high road is consecrated to some di-
vinity, and travellers in passing these arc compelled to repeat several
prayers at each. To save time, however, an ujjright post is erected, in
the upper end of which is an iron plate, on which prayers are engraved,
and which turns like a sheave in a block. To turn this round is equiva-
lent to repeating the prayer. Hence a person with a powerful arm can
repeat any number of prayers by giving the plate a vigorous turn.
The funeral ceremony of the Japanese difl^ers but little from many other
Oriental nations. When a prince or great man dies, it is customary for
ten or twenty youths, who were members of his household, to put them-
selves to a voluntary death at the place of burning. The funeral pile
consists of odoriferous woods, gums, spices, oils, etc., and as soon as it is
liglited, the relatives and friends cast upon it offerings of clotlis, arms,
food, money, flowers, etc., imagining they will be of some service to the
dead in the other world. The mausolea in which the ashes of the o-reat are
deposited, are generally very magnificent, and arc situated at some dis-
tance from the towns. One of them is shown in the background of the
ilhistration below. The middle and lower orders bury their dead with no
other ceremonies than burning some odoriferous woods and giims Period-
ical visits are paid to the tombs, and festivities are held in honor to the dead.
FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF THE JAPANESE.
10
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
[Written for GIcoboq'a Pictorliil]
MATT1IP]W ALWIN:
— OH —
TTTK ADDUCTION.
A TALE OF NAPOLEON'S TIME.
BT E. CUnT188 HINE, U. 3. N.
Little (lidst thou (Ircftin, when dnflhing
Oil tliy wai'-linrw tln■oll^'ll the mnkfl,
Liko n Htrotmi wliirh burnt its biinkfl,
■\Vliil.- h.-lmi'ls rlrl't, iiiul HiiliruH i'lnntiliie,
.Sliiiiir :ii)<l ."liivi'i'i'il I'liMt ai-ounil tlicc,
Of till' fiito lit Inst wliich foimil thco. — Byron.
It WU3 ii wild mid rug:god scene among tlie
pourinp: Alps. A dark ravine or f^orgc ivoniid
like some immense serpent among tlic overhang-
ing erags and jutting cliffs, ■which frowned upon
tlie plain that stretched fur away into the dim
horizon of " la belle France." Many a wild cas-
cade rushed with impetuous force adown the
granite sides of the vast mountain, and their
hoarse voices rose upon the air like the low growl
of distant thunder, and resounded among the
echoing caves and sunless glens with a hollow
and unearthly roar.
At the bottom of tliis winding ravine a rugged
road had been shaped by the hands of that great
army which the eagle-eyed Napoleon was now
lending on to crush )us Austrian foes. It was in
this place but a narrow pathway, from which the
rocks had been with immense labor rolled down-
ward to the plain, but itcnabled the armed hordes
who bore the eagles of the young republic to pass
onward to the scene of strife and the field of fame
and glory. Even now, the countless legions of
the great army of Italy had crossed by means of
this rugged pathway the snow-crowned summit
of the Alps, and were encamped ou the other
side, from which towering height their young
leader could look downward upon the vine-clad
hills and vales of the land of promise. Immense
forests of heavy timber prevented his troops from
being discovered in their encampment by the
enemy, and the Frenchmen were now enjoying
a season of repose from their severe toil, ere tliey
descended the steeps of the mountain and pounced
upon their prey.
It was near the sunset of a gusty day, and
shadows already began to settle upon the dark
ravine which furrowed the side of the towering
Alps. A solitary horseman slowly advanced
along the pass, evidently with the intention of
reaching a small inn which an adventurous Sa-
voyard had erected some three miles up the wind-
ing ascent of the mountain. He was a man ap-
parently in the prime and vigor of life, with a
frame at once sinewy and hardy, and his features
were regular and pleasing. The eye in particu-
lar, black and flashing, was extremely fine ; and
his whole appearance was that of a man who
would not shrink from danger, should it choose
to cross his path. He was dressed in a plain suit
of black cloth, with no ornament save a droop-
ing ostrich plume in his round hat, but suspended
from a belt around his waist was a heavy sabre,
which jingled in its iron scabbard as the steed
picked his way along the rocky and uneven road.
"Well, by Jove! I must be near the spot,
judging from the description given me at St.
C}T. But it seems as if I was never to come to a
stopping-place," soliloquized the horseman, at the
same time gazing anxiously through the thick
forest trees that hemmed him in, and along the
narrow and winding road as far as circumstances
would permit ; " if I should not succeed in reach-
ing the inn to-night, I should be compelled to
camp out here under the trees, with the blue sky
for an overcoat. A mighty chilly one it would
prove to me, too, if I'm not mistaken. But hal-
loo ! who comes here ?"
This interrogation was elicited by the sudden
appearance of another horseman, slowly descend-
ing the rugged mountain road, and who had just
come into view by an abnipt turn of the thor-
oughfare. The new-comer was mounted on a
spirited-looking horse but apparently jaded, for
he hung his head and plodded onward as if the
reminiscence of a comfortable stable was flitting
before his vision, to the exclusion of every other
object, for he frequently stumbled against the
points of rocks which the sappers of the army
had not entirely removed fiom the road. Tlic
rider was a young man ; to judge from his ap-
pearance, not move than six or scvcn-and-twonty
years of age, and he sat erect in his saddle, as if
accustomed to its use. His lithe and agile form
was closely enveloped in a huge gray overcoat
buttoned to the chin, whieh completely hid hi.s
imder garments from obseiwation ; but his top-
bootH drawn over his trousers, and his gilded
spurs, bespoke him a man of some little property,
for none but the wealthier classes at tliat peiiofl
indulged in such luxuries as long boots. On his
Jiead was set n little jaunty three-cornered hat,
entirely devoid of ornament, and in one of his
gloved hands he bore a heavy riding whip, while
the other grasped in a careless manner the reins
of the bridle. His features, without being abso-
lutely handsome, were eminently striking, and
the broad, open brow, though partly shaded by
the little cocked hat, looked as if it contained no
little intellect. It was not long ere the two triiv-
cllcrs met.
" Can you tell me, my friend," inquired the
first of these horsemen, thus introduecd to the
reader, "how far it may chance to be to a little
inn, kept by one Monsieur La Grange, I think
they call him ! I have been expecting to reach
the place for the last hour, but I sec no signs of
it as yet."
*' Hum ! it seems we arc in the same predica-
ment," replied the other. " I, too, am desirous
of finding that inn, but I think — nay, I am al-
most certain that I have passed it. I am some-
what subject to fits of absent-mindedness, and
albeit I am very anxious to reach my goal, I'll
wager ray life that I am now some distance be-
yond it. I have overshot my mark. If you are
intending to stop for the night at the same place
I will turn about, and we will journey together
to the spot."
*' I should be happy to do so," replied the
other ; and, spurring their wearied steeds, the
two riders advanced side by side along the nar-
row, steep and rugged pathway.
'* It was a grand undertaking on the part of
Napoleon, to construct this road over the Alps,"
said the first horseman, " and it seems as if that
young man is destined to make his mark before
he dies."
" Ah ! you think so, do you "? " replied the
other, bending his bright, keen eye upon him ;
" and, pray, what may liavc induced you to come
to that conclusion ?"
" His bravery in quelling the revolt of the sec-
tions in Paris, and his genius as exhibited upon
the bui-ning plains of Eg'^qit, where the silent pyr-
amids resounded to tiie voice of his heavy can-
non, and his victorious army nished upon the
terrified Mamelukes like some mighty river that
has burst its banks."
" You seem to be an admirer of Bonaparte,"
diyly remarked he of the gray coat.
" Do 1 1 Perhaps if you knew all 3'ou would
not speak so confidently in regard to the matter.
So far from admiring him, although I honor his
genius, I have reason to hate and despise him
from the bottom of my heart. Is he not the en-
emy of my country V
" Your country !" replied the other, in a tone
of amazement; "surely you are a Frenchman,
and Napoleon never could prove an enemy to
France."
" You think me a Frenchman, because I speak
the language so fluently, but I am an English-
man, and am on important business. In fact I
have been selected for the duty in hand princi-
pally because I have such a perfect knowledge
of the Gallic tongue."
" And what might this important business be ?"
inquired the other, fixing his eyes steadily upon
the Englishman.
"Ah ! tluit's a secret which I am not at liberty
to divulge."
" Perhaps I might be able to render you some
assistance. I too am one of the worst enemies
of Napoleon Bonaparte."
" That indeed alters the case. And were I to
reveal my plans to you, would you assist me in
carrying them into execution 1"
"Yes," replied the other, promptly, "if it is
anything in the shape of seizing Napoleon, I'm
with you. I should feel a very deep interest in
regard to such an undertaking."
" You look honest, my friend, and I think I
can venture to trust yovi," said the Englishman.
"Listen, then. I have been selected by one of
the members of the government at Paris, wlio
wishes, for reasons of his own, to get Napoleon
out of the way, to proceed to his camp, whieh I
suppose must now be somewhere on the other
side of the mountain, and, after enlisting as a
volunteer for the army, to watch my o])porlunil-y
and shoot him, as he appears upon parade, or if
no such chance offers, to clip hi.'! wings in the
midst of some battle. Under such circumstances
it would be a dilKeult matter to ascertain ivho did
the deed."
"An excellently contrived plan, truly," said
the other, after musing for a few moments in si-
lence. " And will you i)ormit mc to join you in
yom* ])raiseworthy undci'taking?"
" With much pleasure, monsiciu'."
What ,>haU I cull your name?"
" Matthew Alwin. And yours?"
"Mine — O — yes! It's of no consequence —
but you can if you clioosc call mc Mottier."
" 'Tis well. I am hap])y to have found nn
ally."
" And a strong ally you will find mc, my
friend," quietly rejjlied Mottier. " But look,
yonder is the light at the window of Monsieur
La Grange's inn. What a stupid fellow 1 was to
have passed it. It is a way I have, of i-iding with
my head down when I am in deep study. So
my absent-mindedness has caused mc to travel
much further than I had need to have done.
However, it seems I am rewarded by being able
to join in an exciting adventure. Little does
Napoleon dream of the danger which now men-
aces him."
" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed Ahvin ; " we'll soon
teach iiim a lesson."
" Yes, sueli a lesson that he will have cause to
remember it initil his dying day."
By this time the two travellers had drawn up
their wearied steeds in front of the small inn,
and Mott er was shouting loudly to the inmates.
In a moment the door opened, and an old man,
dressed in the garb of a mountaineer, advanced
and welcomed the guests, and, taking charge of
their horses, led them away to a rude stable in
the rear of his house, while the joumeycrs en-
tered the neat tap-room of the inn.
It was a small but comfortable house, hastily
erected, for the accommodation of such few trav-
ellers as might chance to pass along that newly-
opened mountain-road ; but it was constructed of
durable materials, and its few rooms wore an air
of neatness and comfort which are often vainly
looked for in inns of more pretension.
By a wood fire, blazing cheerfully in the huge
chimney, sat a comely-looking matron, who, to
judge from her appearance, might have weath-
ered the calms and storms of hfe for forty years.
A sedate but pleasant expression rested upon
her featiu-es, and she seemed cheerful and con-
tented. At a little distance removed from her
mother, a lovely young girl was seated knitting,
and occasionally pausing from her work to look
up timidly to the faces of the travellers, one of
whom, to judge from the quick glances of intel-
ligence that now and then passed between them,
she had seen before.
She was a veritable woodland flower — that
young Agnes La Grange ; and like some lovely
rose that rears its gentle but modest head, un-
seen and unappreciated in the midst of some
great dim and shadowy forest, afar from the
haunts of man, so did that graceful maiden grow
up and bloom in fragrance and in beauty, with
none to pluck it from its parent stem, or crush
its newly-opened leaves.
She was now fifteen years of age ; but so rap-
idly do the young buds of beauty in the sunny
clime where she was born expand their glowing
petals, she was already a fully-developed woman.
And such a form — so lithe, so agile, and so fine-
ly rounded in every limb ; such an exuberant
swelling of the finely moulded bust ; such shape-
ly feet ; such white and tiny hands — albeit no
jewels sparkled from their snow — they would
have made the fortune of any sculptor avIio
could have imitated in deathless marble their
matchless perfection. Then, too, her face was
so witchiugly beautiful, and the red blood man-
tled so luxuriously in her soft, young cheeks,
while her jet black eyes shone like midnight
stars in the wintry heavens, or were downcast
and melancholy, when a shade of sorrow flitted
over her young heart! A peerless girl was
Agnes La Grange.
And so thought Matthew Alwin, if we might
judge coiTectl}' from the enamored looks which
he every now and then threw towards her. In
fact, it seemed utterly impossible for him to keep
his eyes off her ; and he watched her every move-
ment, as a cat watches a mouse which she ex-
pects soon to spring u))on as her prey. And did
^l^vin — irotdd he anticipate the seizure of that
young woodland flower, in order tliat he might
frost-like wither its beauty and its bloom? We
shall see.
A plain supper was soon smoking on the hos-
pitable board, and the two travellers being seat-
ed, Mottier did ample justice to it, while the
Englishman, isuUen and reserved, partook of but
little — although the fair AgncS ministered to his
wants, and pressed upon him the wholesome
viands prepared by her own hands. Pei'haps
this was the reason why he did not cat ; at any
rate, he .seemed lost in a reverie, and after sitting
for a few moments, he rose abruptly fi'oin the
table, and calling for u light, demanded to be
shown to his apartment.
No sooner was he alone, than sealing himself
upon the side of the neat conch prejjared for his
accommodation, he gave vent to a low and pro-
tracted whistle — sueh a one as "unco wise" peo
ydc indulge in, when they sujjposc they Iiavc
nnidc some important diseovery, and so hug
themselves upon their own shrcwdncsw.
" Well, I was devilish near getting myself into
a pretty scrape, by making known my secrets to
that sti'ange traveller whom I met, and who I
supposed might render mc g'reat iLssistunce, if he
would. It was fortunate for mc that that big
gray overcoat which he wears so closely I)nttoned
up, chanced to become unfastened for a moment.
If I didn't sec the glitter of a gold epanletle un-
der that gannent, my name's not Alwin. And
then, how confused he looked, and how <piickly
he rc-buttoned his outer covering, when he saw
my eyes bent upon him. I'll lay my life that
it's one of Bonaparte's subalteni ofliecrs thus dis-
guised, and that he has been drawing me on in
his cunning way in order to entrap me. Bnt
he'll find that I'm not to be canght in his snare.
I'm too old a fox for that. I shall not go to the
camp of Napoleon with this newly found ally ; I
have another scheme in view, and time will
develop it."
Having uttered this soliloquy, Alwin, who waa
much fiitigued by his long day's joumcy, threw
himself upon the bed, and quickly sunk into a
sound and dreamless slnmber. In the mean-
time, how fared it with the other ti-avcUer whom
we left seated at the table below ?
After the Englishman had taken his departure
from the supper room, Mottier still kept his
seat quietly at the board and continued to eat
until his hunger was appeased, when, rising from
the table, the young Agnes cleared off the frag-
ments of the supper, and having made every-
thing snug and tidy, she seated hei-self in a chair
at a little distance from hira, and at once entered
into conversation.
" So you have come again, Monsienr, just as
you promised me you would three weeks ago,
when you passed with the grand army," archly
remarked tlie young girl, as she looked up with
a mischievous twinkle in her eye; "now do you
know that I thought yon were only flattering me,
and that I never should behold yonr face again ?"
"I never break my word," replied Mottier,
gravel 3'. " I told you that I would retuni within
three weeks, if only to tell yon how much I ad-
mire the beauty of my little Alpine rose, and I
have come as I promised."
"And it seems have found a rival. Did you
notice, Victor, how that strange traveller, who
came hither with you, kept his eyes upon me the
whole time while I was preparing supper, and
attending the table. I ought to consider myself
highly honored by his notice."
" Hum ! yes ; he is evidently much pleased
with your beauty. And who could blame him ?"
" Flatterer ! there you are again ! You are
enough to turn the head of any young girl with
your honeyed words ! But who is this stiangor ?"
" 0, he's a man that I fell in with upon the
road, and we Iiavc agreed to journey to the camp
of the army together."
" He jouniey to the camp ? What in the name
of all that's wonderful, can he want at the camp ?"
" He is employed by one of the enemies of
Bonaparte, at Paris, to proceed to the army, and
after entering the ranks as a volunteer, he is to
watch an opportunity and assassinate Napoleon.
And I have agreed to proceed thither with liim,
and assist him in his projects. In other words,
we have formed an alliance."
The features of the young girl wore a look of
wonder and astonishment for a moment, and
then she burst into a hearty laugh, as clear, as
silvery, and as musical as the sound of a hidden
brooklet, singing along its flowery banks upon a
night in June.
" Well done ! well done ! You no doubt
would be enabled to afford him every fiicility in
the prosecution of his enterprise, you know every
locality so well. He ! he ! he !"
" Yes, he may find me of some service to him.
I have some little energy when I undertake a
thing."
"Bvt you must keep your coat buttoned, " said
Agnes, in a low whisper, looking cautiously
around the apartment. There was no one there
save themselves, for both fatlier and mother had
retired.
" O, don't fear for my pnulcncc, I shall be
very cautious. And now to other bnsinces. Are
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
11
you prepared to accept the offer I made you
when I last saw you ? If so, I am prepared to
renew it."
" I have thought calmly of it," replied the
young girl, " since you were here, and I have
come to tlic conclusion that I cannot comply
with your request. You would never stoop to
man-j/ one like mc, and as to accompanying you
in any other capacity save as your irife, existing
circumstances, as well as my own inclinations,
would prevent me."
" Ah, existing circumstances ! I think I know
what they are. You are betrothed to a young
lieutenant now attached to the grand army, by
the name of PiciTe Landes, and you are deter-
mined to remani true to him. Is it not so V
" It is," replied Agnes, holding down her
head, and blushing; "it seems you know my
secrets."
" And well I may. Landes is my best and
dearest friend — he saved my life upon the battle-
field. It is for kim, and not for myself that I am
actnig. I-Ic pines for yon incessantly, and as he
cannot leave his company in order to urge his
suit, and induce you to wed him at once, and
follow him upon his dangerous path, he has be-
sought me to return here and endeavor to per-
suade you to accompany me back to the camp.
/ seek you ? Indeed it never once entered my
head ; for much as I admire your matchless
bcautv, and honor the choice of my humble and
devoted friend, I have already a wife of my own
— a fair one, too — and one wife, you know, Ag-
nes, is enough for any man."
There is a spark of latent vanity in the breast
of every woman, no matter how good, how pure,
and how virtuous she may be. She does not
like to think that she has calculated too much
upon tlie power of her o^sti attractions ; so Agnes
La Grange, though she was pleased to find that
Mottier was not inclined to persecute her with
his attentions, and that he only acted for one
whom she had loved almost from her cradle,
slightly pouted a Hp so ripe, so red and tempt-
ing, that it might well have tempted an eremite
to forget his vows, and said :
" I shall not retuni with you to the camp, sir.
If Pierre wishes for my society, lie knows where
I am to be found !"
" Well, well, I'll bear your message to my
young friend upon the morrow, and perluips it is
better that you should not accompany me upon
this occasion. The alliance I liave formed with
this prudent and cautious Englishman, would
make your presence with us somewhat awkward.
I shall, the day after to-morrow, permit Landes
to come back here with an escort of lancers, and
no doubt he will be able to induce you to join
the eagles of tlie republic. If not, he can cany
you off by force of arms."
Saying this, Mottier I'osc, and taking a light-
ed taper from a shelf, retired to a small room
pointed out by Agnes, and throwing liimself
ready dressed upon tlic bed, bright and glowing
dreams came hovering round his pillow, and in-
vesting his sleep with forms of radiant beauty-.
And amid those fonns, did that of the fair wood-
land flower find a place ? Perhaps so.
Early the next morning tlie t\vo ti'avellers
were roused from their slumbers to partake of
breakfast. Mottier came out and took his seat
at the table, but his form was still closely envel-
oped in the heavy gray great coat he iiad worn
the night before. Alwin soon joined him, and
after hastily partaking of the meal set before
them, they both rose, and paying the bill of
Monsieur La Grange, they mounted their steeds
and took their way along the narrow and wind-
ing ravine, where overhanging rocks and giant
crags frowned down upon the passers-bv.
Alwin was somewhat moody and reserved.
Gone was the vivacity with which he had be-
fi-ayed hi.5 plans to an almost perfect stranger on
the afternoon before, and in its place was silence
accompanied by regret that he had been so rash.
But he had evidently some deep scheme revolv-
ing in his mind, for he was constantly in a study,
and paid but little attention to the remarks of
Mottier, save to answer his questions Iiy a shnig
of the shoulder, or by a gx'unt of petulance and
ill nature. The " ally," however, paid but little
attention to his moroseness, but talked and talk-
ed, as if he loved the sound of liis own voice,
and endeavored to " draw out " liis companion
by every means in liis power. In particular, did
he strive to ascertain the vavte of the partizan in
Paris who had dispatched him upon this mission.
But this was all in vain. Alwin was as close as
a sealed book, and repelled every effort on the
part of Mottier to win his confidence. The
truth is, he liad been making ratlier too free
with a small flask of brandy which he carried in
his coat pocket, just before he met with his pi'cs-
ent ''ally." and under such circumstances was
imprudent to a degree whicli afterwards astonish-
ed him. But as the fumes of the liquor began to
subside he saw Iiis error, and the slight glimpse
of the epaulette whicli lie caught beneath the
heavv grav overcoat of his companion, showed
him the folly of which he had been guilty. But
it was no easy matter to escape at once from the
" entangling alliance " into which he had
plunged, so he resolved to accompany Mottier.
His plans, in fact, had been all matured beneath
the roof of the inn, and he only waited for a
suitable season to put them into execution. But
he was not to be caught off his guard again.
He spurred his steed onward over tlie rugged
road ; but sullen and silent, he repelled every
advance on the part of his neiglibor.
In this way the two horsemen slowly wound
up the steep sides of the Alps, and by noon had
arrived at a point from wliieh they could descend
to the vast plains that spread below. There,
afar in the blue distance, gleamed the sunny
clime of Italy, where deeds of valor were so.on to
be performed, and where the azure skies were
doomed to be hidden by the smoke of iho teiTihlc
cannon whose thunders sti'ow the gory field with
slain.
The travellers had reached a sort of plain in
tlie sliape of a little table-land making in from
the steep heights of St. Bernard, and were now
witliin four miles of the camp of the grand army,
the location of which was discovered by a column
of smoke that arose lazily and curlingly from
the smouldering watch-fires through the leafy
wilderness that shadowed that immense host,
and every now and then a subdued murmur rose
to the ear like the lo\y wail of some distant
ocean, as its surges trample down the sands that
pave its shores. Mottier knew that sound to be
the voice of that tremendous army which was
soon to spread like some teirible hurricane over
tlie plains of Italy, and his eye brightened, and
his breath came thick and gaspingly, as he gath-
ered up his reins more firmly in his grasp, and
straightened himself as erect and pi-oudly as an
iron statue in his saddle.
*' Do you hear tliat low murmur, do you see
that smoke curling upward above the leafy ti'cc-
tops ]" inquired he of Alwin, while his quick
stern e3'e was bent upon him, with a glance that
made him quail in sjiite of nimself, "Do you
know now where we are V
"Yes," answered Alwin, sullenly, " I know
well enough where we are. We are on the east-
ern slope of the Sau Bernard, and yonder
smoke and yonder sounds proceed from the liid-
den camp of Napoleon."
" You arc right, monsieur ; and now let us
onward and prosecute the task we have under-
taken."
" One moment," said the Englishman, paus-
ing, while a troubled expression stole over his
features ; " I will just step off into the woods
here, by the wayside, and cut me a whip to goad
my horse onward, and tlien we will proceed as
fast as you like. Just hold the bridle, if you
please, until I return."
And suiting the action to the word, Alwin
dismounted, and handing his bridle rein to Mot-
tier, he walked off' deliberately into the woods
until he was out of sight of his companion. And
did he return again ? Not he. No sooner had
he reached a distance of some hundred yards
from the spot where he had left his steed, tlian
he burst into a headlong run through the thick
and sombre forest, shouting, as he darted for-
ward over rocks and mouldering trees, up hills
and do^\'n dales, " 'twas well done, hy Jupiter !
I was near getting into the net. My plot has
failed through my own folh'- and imprudence.
As Old Will Shakspcare, the sheep-stealer, once
said : ' 0, that men should put an enemy into
tlieir mouths to steal away tlicir brains !' And
I echo the sentiment. However, what's done
can't be helped ; so here's onward. I have lost
the fifty thousand francs reward — but wh6 cares ?
And now for the lovely Agnes La Grange ! I'll
collect one flower among these mountain wilds,
at any rate, and that will in some measure com-
pensate me for the loss of the francs. Courage !
Monsieur Alwin !"
Mottier, left alone in charge of the two horses,
sat quietly awaiting the retu -n of Alwin for
some time, for he did not suspect that his "ally"
Iiad decided to leave him so unceremoniously.
At length, however, a light suddenly broke in
upon him, and he burst into a hearty laugh.
" Well, well, Mr. Bull is gone, it seems! I
wonder if lie suspected anything? Hum! per-
haps so. At any rate, he's off — that's certain ;
so I may as well pursue my way back to the
camp. I have received one lesson, at any rate
— a lesson that will be of some service to me in
future. Sacrc ! — assassins ! — who would have
thought if? Well, let 'em work! I'll teach
them a tale yet, that they will not forget ! As-
sassins ! Mon Dieu !"
And tm'ning the horse of Alwin adrift, as if
he had no further use for him, he spunked his
own steed as rapidly down the rugged sides of
the mountain as his safety would permit, and
was soon lost to view amid the thick woods
Aviiich spread their solemn shade in silence and
in solitude from the base to the very summit of
those snow-crowned and eternal Alpo.
It was about a week after these events, and a
wild storm was sweeping in terrible fury over
the ragged cliffs and down the dark ravines and
sunless glens of the San Bernard. The winds
liowled and shrieked, as they rent the limbs from
the groaning forest trees, or uprooting them,
hurled them headlong with a fearful crash down
the steep sides of the yawning precipices, and
the big rain drops came dancing upon the earth,
as if they were living and created things, and
could rejoice in the wild uproar of the elements.
It was near midnight, and the family of Mon-
sieur La Grange, tlie innkeeper, were seated
around the blaze of a cheerful fire that glowed
and crackled upon the hearth, when a knocking
was suddenly heard at the only door, as of some
one seeking admittance. The old Savoyard,
ever alive to the calls of humanity, arose and
opened the door, when who should make Ids ap-
pearance but Matthew Alwin, an old acquaint-
ance of the reader. He was drenched to the
skin by the heavy rain to which he had been ex-
posed, and ^looked so forlorn and pitifiil, that
neither the old inn-keeper nor his wife recognized
him as the traveller who, a few nights before,
had lodged at their house. Not so, however,
with Agnes. Slie bent her keen, briglit eye
upon him, and knew him at once ; and though
woudcrhig what should have brought him back
again so soon, and secretly annoyed at tlie cir-
cumstance, siic treated him with every civility,
furnishing him with dry clothing, and doing eve-
rything in her power to render him comfortable.
True, she sometimes shrunk from the sensual
glance whicli she detected him bending upon
her, but she was a brave girl, and subdued any
emotion which arose in her bosom almost in the
moment of its birth. After drying his clothes,
and partaking of some refresh mejits, wliich he dc-
vom"ed with much eagerness — for he had lost his
way and had been roaming about the mountain
forests for seven days, with nothing to cat except
some hard biscuit which he chanced to have in
his pocket — he was shown by Agnes to the same
room which he had occuiiied before, where he
threw himself all dressed upon the bed, while the
landlord and his wife and their lovely daughter
quickly sought repose in the arms of sleep.
The little room occupied by Agnes opened
u]]0u a sort of rude verandah or piazza, which
Monsieur La Grange intended sliould be covered
with vines on the arrival of another smnmcr.
Here the young maiden lay for some time listen-
ing to the wicrd raging of the tempest without,
whicli rattled her window in its frame, and howl-
ed through the suiTonnding forests like the voice
of some terrible fiend. Lulled at length by these
discordant voices she fell into a broken slumber,
and dreamed that she was in the grasp of a huge
giant with hideous features, who was holding
her over a frightful prccii>ice, and threatening
to drop her down headlong, unless she consented
to become hit; wife. The friglitful dream aroused
her. With a slight shriek she awoke, and after
rubbing her eyes for a moment, was struck
dumb with terror on beholding in her apartment,
and standing near the liead of the bed, the figure
of Matthew Alwin. He was dressed from top
to toe, and in his right hand lie bore a cocked
pistol, wdiilc his left hand held a lighted taper.
" Get up," said lie, in a low, stern tone; "put
on your clothes, and prepare to follow me out of
that window by which I have entered, without a
moment's delay! But, remember, the first word
} ou speak, though it be but in a whisper, or tlie
fir?t soimd you make, I'll send a bullet from
this loaded pistol through your brain ! Get up,
I say I"
Wliat could she do ? Tcn-ificd by his threats,
ns well as by the manner in wliich he uttered
them, tlic poor girl arose, ti-emblingly donned
her apparel, and followed the monster in human
shajie from lu'r fatlicr's dwelling.
The rain had ceased its peltings, but the wind
bowled through the groaning forests, which
tossed their arms wildly to and fro, as if in sup-
plication. Beneath the gray breaking of the
early dawn Alwin hurried on, leading his sor-
rowful victim along the craggy ravines, and
vainly endeavoring to accelerate her speed — for
she was so worn with fatigue and terror, that it
was with the utmost difficulty that she could ac-
commodate her pace to that of her relentless
captor. At length, just after sunrise, and when
some five or six miles from her home, she sud-
denly resolved to go no further, but to die where
she was, and indicated her detennination to
Alwin.
" Very well, miss, wc shall see," returned he,
rudely ; " I'll give you an hour to rest yourself,
and then, if you refuse to accompany me, ^ourfiR.'"
Tlie hour at length expired. The storm had
sunk to rest, and the red sun came wheeling like
a ball of fire over the crown of the mountain.
Alwin rose to his feet, and sternly regarded
Agnes who, still seated, gave no indications of
alarm.
" Are you going to get up and proceed with
me V he inquired, in a rough voice.
" Eor what purpose ?"
" To become my wife when wc reach Paris,
or perish by my hand !"
" Never !" said the young girl, firaily. " I will
be forced to accompany you no longer !"
" Take thaf, then, you young hussy !" roared
Alwin, in a frenzy of rage, as he deliberately
aimed his pistol at her, and cocked it with a
sharp click.
But he did not fire. Just as he was in the act
of pulling tlie trigger, a loud shout arrested his
attention, and the next instant ten cavalry troops,
headed by a fine-looking young officer, galloped
up, and suiTounding both Alwin and Agnes, cut
off every avenue of escape. The next instant
several of the troopers had dismounted and were
securely binding the Englishman with strong
cords, while their commander, having rushed to
the maiden, was locked in her embrace. "Ag-
nes!"— Picn-e !" were all the words that they
could utter. He had come just in season ; the
young dove had found its mate.
Alwin was tied and placed on one of the
horses behind a trooper, while Agnes took a scat
in the rear of her lover on his high-spirited
charger, and reining into the mountain road, off
dashed the whole party for the camp of Napo-
leon. Landes had arrived at the inn of Monsieur
La Grange about sunrise, having spent the night
in a sort of cave he had discovered on the pas-
sage of the army over the mountain ; but what
was his horror on learning that his betrothed
had been stolen from her home by the traveller,
wlio had thus repaid them for their kindness and
their hospitality ! Calling his men to their sad-
dles, he mounted his own steed, and started off
in pursuit of the wretch who had robbed him of
all he held dear. A just Providence smiled upon
liis designs, and he succeeded in rescuing her
from the grasp of death, just at the instant when
he had reached fortli to claim her as his own.
*****
Napoleon, grave and thoughtful, was seated in
his marquee, as if waiting the approach of some
one, and his keen eye slionc like a star in a cold,
clear, wintiw night. Presently an aid advanced
and reported that "the party had arrived."
" Show them in," said Napoleon, in his quick,
stern voice.
The next instant Pierre Landes and tlie fair
Agnes entered tlie tent accompanied by Alwin,
who, securely bound, no sooner caught a glimpse
of Napoleon, than he started back with dismay.
He recognized Mottier, liis comrade of the inn,
to whom he had unwittingly betrayed his
secrets.
"Tell me," said Napoleon, "who emploj'cd
you to assassinate me, and I will spare your life."
" Monsieur Sardine — member of the council,"
tremblingly answered the coward.
" 'Tis well — I war not with such as i/ou. Al-
roy," beckoning to an aid-de-camp, " take this
Englit^h wretch and give him in cliaige of Ser-
geant Junot of tlie guai'ds, with orders to kick
him out of the camp, but not to kill him. I have
pledged my word to spare liis life."
" Your excellency's orders shall be promptly
attended to," replied the aid.
The next day PieiTC Landes was wed to the
fair Agnes La Grange, and Napoleon honored
the occasion with his presence. The young lieu-
tenant rapidly arose in his profession until he
reached the rank of general, wlicn at the close of
the war on the plains of Waterloo, he retired to
his estate in Nonuiindie, and passed the remain-
der of his days with his yet lovely wife ami
handsome cliildrcn.
12
GLEASON'S PICTORLVL DEAWING KOOM COMPANION.
REBECCA AT TIIE ^VELL.
Our tirtist has furnished us with a very bcimti-
ful scene herewith, taken from the famous paint-
ing of " Kehecea at the Well," painterl hy Hor-
ace Vcrnet. Tliis beautiful picture of Rebceca
at the well is one of those which may be viewed
witli unmitigated pleasure. A simple and natu-
ral incident is represented with equal delicacjy
and vigor, Landscape, costume, and the vari-
ous objects that lill up tlio same, arc all in ac-
cordance with wliat we know of the history of
the time and the ])lace identified with the story.
A graceful simplicity pervades the whole. Ahra-
liam had become old, liis beloved partner, Sarah,
had been taken fiom him by death, and lie desired
to see his race perpetuated, in accordance with the
announcement which
had been mivilc to him
by the God ho wor-
shipped. A stranger
in a foreign land, the
daughters of Canaan,
from their levity or
want of piety, were
not sucli as to make
him content that Isaac
should choose a wife
from among them.
He desired that his
son might obtain a
consort from the land
of his forefathers. To
accomplish this ob-
ject, the anxious pa-
rent resolved to send
the oldest servant of
his house to seek one
in Mesopotamia. The
person selected to go
on this important er-
rand was not merely
a trusty domestic ; he
held an important
post, and, high in the
patriarch's confidence,
we read that "he
ruled over all that
Abraliam had." He
was therefore a man
of station, as the jjos-
sessions of Abraliam
were great, and his
flocks and herds nu-
merous. Before the
servant set out upon
his jouraey, the mas-
ter took the precau-
tion of swearing him,
according to the forms
then in use among the
Jews, that he would
not choose a wife for
his son from the
daughters of Canaan.
A natural fear came
over the man, that it
would not be in his
power to fulfil the wisli
of his master. Even
in the event of his
finding a woman not
a Canaanite fit to be-
come the wife of Isaac,
he doubted if she
would be willing to
leave her country ; but
Abraham, from a re-
velation which had
been made, re-assured
him, by telling him
that " the Lord God
of heaven would send
his angel before," and
secure a prosperous
issue to his undertak-
ing. The same faith
which sustained him
when tlic sacrifice of
his offspring had been
culled for, satisfied
him that, in this case
likewise, all would be
well, and that the
Most High could not
deceive, and would
not leave his work in-
complete. We are
then told that the ser-
vant took his depar-
ture, and journeyed to
the city of Nahor. On
his way he displayed
great pomp. He took
ten camels with him,
" for all the goods of
his master were in his
hand ;" and having reached Mesopotamia, he
made the camels kneel without the city which he
was about to enter. It was evening, and the
time when the females were accustomed to go
forth to draw water, and he then prayed the Lord
God of his master to show kindness to that mas-
ter, and to order it so, that when he should ask
a damsel to let him drink from her pitcher, that
she should offer to give his camels water, and
that he miglit know by this his suit was granted.
The narrative, as given in Genesis, chapter 24,
proceeds : — " And it came to pass before he had
done speaking, that, behold, Rebecca came out,
who wiLS born to Bethuel, son of Milcah, the
wife of Nahor, Abraham's brotlier, with her
pitcher upon her shoulder; and the damsel was
very fair to look upon, a virgin, neither had any
man known her: and she went down to the well,
and filled her pitcher, and came up. And the
servant ran to meet her, and said, Let me, I pray
thee, drink a little water of thy pitcher. And
she said, Driiik, my lord : and she luisted, and
let down licr pitcher upon her hand, and gave
him di'ink. And when she had done giving him
drink, she said, 1 will draw water i'^r thy camels
also, until they luive done drinking. And she
hasted, and emptied her pitcher into the trougli,
and ran again unto tlie well to draw water, and
drew for all his camels. And the man, wonder-
ing at her, held his ])cace, to wit whether the
Lord had made his journey prosperous or not.
And it came to pass, as the camels had done
drinking, that the man took a golden earring of
half a shekel weight, and two bracelets for her
hands of ten shekels weight of gold, and said,
Whose daughter art thou i tell mc, I pray thee :
AlilSONI.
Marietta Alljoni was born at Cesena, in 1820,
of honorable parents, and received an excellent
education. At the age of eleven, slic took los-
soiis in music of the celebrated Maestro Bagioli.
Eight years after she entered the Lyceum of Bo-
logna, wlien Rossini was its director. Her first
dfhut was at Milan, in the great tlicafrc of La
Scala, where she continued to sing durin^i i\inv
seasons. Slie then sung lliree cnti;i;:i nii-nis nt
Vienna, and made her mark in Si. I'cti^rslturg.
She left that city in 1845 for Germany, after
which time she made no engagements with mii^
nugers, but sang, as her mood prompted, in the
principal cities, sliaring in London the triumphs
of Grisi, Mario and Tamburini, until slie came
REBECCA AT THE WELL SCENE FROM BIBLICAL HISTORY.
is there room in thy father's house for us to lodge
in "? And she said iinto him, I am the daughter
of Bethuel the son of Milcah, which she bare
unto Nahor. She said moreover unto him. We
have both straw and provender enough, and
room to lodge in. And the man bowed down
his head, and worshipped the Lord." The ar-
tist, following scripture, has made the damsel
Rebecca " very fair to look upon." In her per-
son we mark the glow of health and the fresh-
ness of youth. With no sinister expression in
his countenance, it is obvious, while he drinks
from her pitcher, that the faithful servant of
Abraham is thinking of something more than
quenching his thirst. He gazes on the young
aiitl biautiful .Tewess with earnest curiosity and
inlciisi^ inti rest, regarding her as the future wife
of Isaac; and evidently exults that he has not
prayed to the God of Abraham in vain, satisfied
that his success is no longer doubtful.
to Paris, where the rapture of her admirers had
no precedent, both at the Italian and Grand Ope-
I'a houses. Recently she has been exciting great
enthusiasm in Belgium. And her last public ap-
pearance was in Paris, on the 13th of May, at a
grand solemnity in the theatre of the Palace of
Versailles, at "which Louis Napoleon assisted.
She was the great star of the occasion, and aston-
ished and delighted everybody by her singing.
The theatre was illuminated, and all tlic musical
authorities of Paris were present. Rachel, the
great tragedian, however, had too much patri-
otic pride, which could not influence Alboni, being
a foreigner. The director of the Grand Opera
made ju'opositinns to her to sing in Halevy's new
opera Lr ,/ii//'J'Jir(nit, and otfcrcd to produce ex-
pres.sly for lior a jjict'C of lialfc's : Mamion I'Es-
caat, the " chevul de Iictaille," of Malibran. But
she had concluded all the arrangements for a trip
to America. — Dwight's JourtiaJ. of Music.
MEMNON.
Returning to the Temple of Koosneh, we took
a ])ath over the plain, through fields of wheat,
lupins and Icntiles, to the two colossi, wliich we
had already seen from a distance. These im-
mense sitting figures, fifty-three feet above the
plain, wiiich has buried their pedestals, look over
the side of vanquished Thebes, and assert the
gnindcnr of which they and Kai*nak are the most
f^lrikin;; remains. They were erected by Amu-
ncph III, and though the faces are totally disfig-
ured, the full, round, beautiful proportions of the
colossal arms, shoulders and tliiglis do not beUc
the marvellous sweetness of the features which
we still see in his tomb. Except tlie head of
Antonius, I know of no ancient portrait so beau-
tiful as Amunoph.
The long and luxuri-
ant liair, flowing in a
hundred ringlets, the
soft gi'ace of the fore-
head, the mild sereni-
ty of the eye, the fine
thin lines of the nos-
trils, and the feminine
tcndemess of the full
lips, triumph over the
ci'umpcd rigidity of
Egy))tian sculpture,
and charm you with
the lightness and har-
mony of Greek art.
In looking on that
head, I cannot help
thinking that the sul>
ject overpowered the
artist, and led him to
the threshold of a tim-
er art. Amunoph, or
Memnon, was a poet
in soul, and it was
meet that his statue
should salute the ris-
ing sun with a sound
like that of a harp-
string. Modem re-
search has wholly an-
nihilated this beautiful
fable. Memnon now
sounds at all hours of
the day, and at the
command of all tra-
vellers who pay an
Arab five piastres to
climb into his lap.
We engaged a vender
of modern scarabei,
who threw off' his gar-
ments, hooked his
fingers and toes into
the cracks of the pol-
ished granite, and
soon hailed us with
" Salamat!" from the
knee of the statue.
There is a certain
stone on Memnon's
lap, which gives out
a fine metallic ring
when sharply struck.
Behind it is a small
square aperture, invi-
sible from below,
where one of the
priests no donln sta^
tioned himself to per-
form the daily mira-
cle. One Arab rap-
ped on the anns and
body of the statue,
which had the usual
dead sound of stone,
and rendered tlie mu-
sical ring of the sun-
smitten block more
striking. Ancient his-
tory indeed explicitly
affirms that the statue
of Memnon uttered
sounds when the sun
shone upon it, and
says, there can be no
doubt of this fact : as
to the mode, however,
in which this was ef-
fected, great diversity
of opinion exists. It
has been thought hy
some that the priests
of Thebes might have
fabricated, by me-
chanical art, a kind of
speaking head, the
springs of which were
so arranged that it
sent forth sounds at
the rising of the sun. Such an explanation,
however, is altogether unsatisfactory ; the cir-
cumstances of the case are directly against it.
The more generally received opinion ascribes
the sound to some peculiar property in the stone
itself, of which the Egyptian priests artfully took
advantage, though in what way is quite uncertain.
An avenue of sphinxes once led from the co-
lossi to a grand temple, the foundations of which
we found about a quarter of a mile distant. On
the way are the fragments of two other colossi,
one of black granite. The enormous substruc-
tions of the temple and the pedestals of its col-
umns have been sufficiently excavated to show
what a superb edifice has been lost to the world.
A crowd of Arabs, thrusting upon our attention
newly baked cinerary urns, newly roasted antique
wheat, and images of all kinds, disturbed our
examination of the ruins, and to csca_pe them
we rode to the Memnonimu. — Eastern Travels.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
13
FREDERICK GLEASON, Profeietor.
MATUKIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTENTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER.
" The Tisit, or the Ill-Regulated Family," a story, by
Mrs. M. E. iloEiNSOX.
" The Royal favorite," a tale of the early history of
Spain, by Miss Sarah M. Howe.
"The Two Carpenters, or Pastime Heal and Unreal,'' a
eketch for mechanics, by Sti-vasds Cobb, Jr.
" The Four Acre Lot," a fine prose sketch, by Mrs. E.
Wellmont.
"Lines to Anna,-' by Ellen L. Chandler.
" Look on the sunny side," by Mrs. M. \V. CUETIS.
" Evening," Unes, by Joes F. Jefferson.
" Sonnet," by Kenneth Sinclair.
" Unrequited Love," verses, by J. Alford.
" 0 breathe one "Wish for me," by iNrrs. R. T. Eldredge.
" Reformation," a poem, by J. Y. I^'eisrampel.
"■Stanzas," by M.M. Parker.
" Carrie Lecj'' verses, by S. E. CauRcn.
" Lines to a Friend," by Caroline A. IIatden.
" Friendship," by Mart N. Dearborn.
" Yield not to Sadness," verges, by W. T. HaSEE.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
"We shall give a fine picture representing the Columbian
Artillery as they appeared, a few daya since, drawn up in
line before their armory, in Cooper street, on the occasion
of their anniversary. Drawn for us by Mr. Manning.
A fine, large picture, representing the Count de Paris
and the Duke de Chartrcs. An equestrian picture of
beautiful execution.
Also a mate for the above, in a large and exceedingly
fine engraving of the Duke de Brabant and the Count de
Flanders.
A fine and interesting picture of the American House,
Boston. One of the largest and best found hotels in the
United States.
A very excellent and truthful representation of the late
Centennial Celebration, at Danvers, Mass., represented by
our artist, Mr. Manning, in three large engravings, faith-
fully depicting the unique and most curious Procession,
the Tent Scene, and other interesting events of the day.
An admirable and very interesting scriptural picture,
from a celebrated painting called " The Finding of Moses."
An engraving that will greatly please our readera.
An excellent and perfect view, by our artist, Mr. Wade,
of Fort Hamilton, in New York harbor.
We shall present a fine original likeness of Gen. Scott,
the whig candidate for the presidency. It will be a timely
and acceptable picture to hia friends.
THE RUINED ABBEY:
— OR —
THE GIPSIES OF FOREST HILL.
A ROIiAXCE OF OLD ENGLAND.
BT PR. J. H. ROBINSON.
This excellent story, just completed in the
Pictorial, is now published in book form, and is
for sale at all of the periodical depots. It is one
of the best we have issued for a long time, and
is well worth sending to distant friends, or of
preserving in a convenient form for reference.
Those fond of good reading, should procure a
copy for perusal at leisure.
^ -m*^ »
SPLINTEES.
The Eavels have been more than suc-
cessful at the Howard Athenaeum.
The priests of Ireland are preaching
to the people against emigrating to Americu.
A State Reform School for girls is
talked of for Massachusetts. A good object.
Michael Conley was killed on the
Western Eailroad track, a few days since.
...... Madame Celeste has taken her fare-
well of the American stage, in New York city.
Moritz Wagner, the renowned German
traveller, is coming to America.
Miss Kimberly has been giving Shak-
spearian readings in the AYest.
An engine exploded lately in the
Wamsulta Mills, New Bedford ; damage S3000.
The New Hampshire Legislature were
not prepared to pass the Maine Liquor Law.
It is very evident thai we shall soon
have a penny rate of postage for the Atlantic.
Wm. Osgood went into a N. York gam-
ing house, lost his money — and drow^ned himself.
We see by the papers that tlie streets of
Gardiner, Me., are to be sprinkled — when it rains.
It is said that Mr. Webster will soon
leave the cabinet, and return to Marshfield.
Some papers are talking about a " has-
ty plate of soup." Wonder what they mean ?
A son of Elias Gales was drowned at
Newton Lower Falls, on Sunday.
The little Infant Drummer will again
perform before the Bostonians.
Catherine Hayes is still concerting at
the north-west. Very popular.
MODERN ARCHITECTURE.
With the other fine arts, architecture, brought
to a higli degree of perfection by the Greeks and
Romans, sank into decay with the fall of tlieir
imperial power. When tlie sent of empire was
removed from Rome to Byzantium, the efforts
of Constantine to make his favorite city rival in
architectural glory the splendor of old Rome
failed completely. A dark period occurred.
The chiircli of St. Mark, at Venice, a creation
of modern art, in the beauty of its proportions
and richness of its style, seems to stamp the tenth
century — the period of its erection — as the era
of renewing taste in architecture. All at once
the Italians suddenly developed their latent
genius ; and ambitious edifices began once more
to adorn their cities and plains. In 1016, a
splendid cathedral was erected at Pisa, by Bus-
chetto da Dulichio, a Greek architect. This
building is encrusted with marble, internally and
externally, and four marble columns support the
elegant roof. The architect did not live long
enough, however, to found a school, and his fine
cliurch remained a long while without a rival.
In the thu-teenth centniy, Nichola da Pisa
erected the church of St. Anthony, at Padua, of
which it is enough to say, that it excited the ad-
miration of Michael Angelo. In this and the
following century, the great cathedral of Stras-
bm-g was erected. Prom this time, modem
architecture made rapid advances.
In England, Trigo Jones, about the time of
Charles II, introduced a pure style of art. The
modern French school has also many fine speci-
mens of art.
If modern architectm*e do not possess the ele-
gant simplicity, the dignified richness of that of
the ancient, still it is distinguished by variety, by
elegance, by daring originality, and by pictur-
esqueness. One soon wearies of the monotony
of streets, presenting regular colonnades, uniform
parallelograms and arches ; but the mind expe-
riences a constant succession of agreeable sur-
prises in the very angularities and eccentricities
of a modern city.
Of all the edifices which modern art has erect-
ed, none is more striking or sublime than the
famous church of St. Peter, at Rome, which
covers an area of 227,069 feet. Men walking on
its rich Mosaic pavement, seem dwarfed to in-
sects in comparison with the vastness of the space
by which they are surrounded, and one can hard-
ly realize, in the midst of this architectural mag-
nificence, that it is the work of human hands.
Our own country is too young, perhaps, to
look for architectural excellence. Comfortable
and commodious dwellings, we have, and spa-
cious buildings, but we have not reached that
point of our history when taste will demand a
splendid and original school of architecture.
The time will, however, come when we shall no
longer borrow our models from the old world ;
when we can budd a chui'ch without depending on
some Gothic model, or a bank w'ithout infring-
ing on the Parthenon at Athens. We have seen
the model of that Parthenon so many times that
we are really sick of it. It has obtruded itself
on our observation under a thousand false pre-
tences ; sometimes as a dwelling-house, with
green blinds, a mahogany street-door, and a cu-
pola; sometimes as a shoe store — the pillars
festooned with brogans, and anon as a billiard
room and oj'ster saloon. The Gothic, too, has
been -wi-etchedly hackneyed and caricatured, until
the eye is weary of sharp pinnacles, and wooden
icicles, and steep roofs. We hope the time will
come when an American citizen will be obliged
to sleep in a Gothic bedroom, dine in a Chinese
pagoda, get his money in a Grecian temple, and
be bmied in an Egyptian tomb. Architecture is
surely a noble art, and the universality of its
uses should encourage true genius to make it a
study and a field for the development of the in-
tellectual and imaginative faculties. By all
means let us have an American school of archi-
tectm-e.
THE NOIUKEES.
Well, we have the candidates now fairly before
us — Scott and Pierce — Pierce and Scott, — and
the battle must now commence in earnest. No
doubt there is much disappointment on both
sides at this moment; indeed we know there is ;
but then what matters if? "Principles, not
men," should be the motto of every party. It
will be observed that we this week give a very
perfect likeness of General Frank Pierce, and
next week we shall give as good a one of General
Winfield Scott.
Query. — What do you think, gentle reader, of
our first number of the new volume ?
OURSELVES.
We need hardly go on to praise the appear-
ance of our Pictorial in the new dress, new type,
new heading, etc., in which we come before the
public in the present number. It will speak for
itself, and yet w6 would call attention to the ex-
quisite fineness and beauty of the heading, and
also to the great purity of style and clearness of
effect produced by the new t}'pe. It is from the
establishment of Messrs. Phelps & Dalton, of
this city, and as a specimen of work, is highly
creditable to that house.
It will also be observed that we have endeavor-
ed to improve in the character of our engrav-
ings, and, indeed, this we have done every week
since the paper commenced, and shall continue
to do. The pictorial department of the number
now before om: readers is of a very excellent and
perfect character, probably surpassing anything
in the style of wood engraving ever attempted in
this country. We have now a most extensive
and experienced corps of artists, and still better
work than heretofore may be anticipated in the
pictorial department.
That the value of the Pictorial is increasing
■with every number, the humblest capacity will
perceive, and therefore it becomes of great im-
portance to those who would presen'C so elegant
an illumined work of the times for binding, that
they subscribe early to secure the numbers com-
plete from the first of the volume ; and therefore
the present moment is the very best time for sub-
scribers to send in their names and money to our
office of publication.
We have some rare and beautiful subjects now
in hand for illustration, whicli will be brought
out promptly from week to week, and which will
delight our readers by their tnithfulness and ar-
tistic excellence.
THE PICTORL\L— VOLOIE H.
We have now ready for delivery, Volume 11
of the Pictorial, elegantly bound in cloth, with
gilt back and edges, and illumined sides. To
this we have added a new and splendid frontis-
piece— one of the most beautiful engi-a\'ings we
have ever issued from this establishment. This
title-page represents, above, the four quai'ters of
the earth — Europe, Asia, Africa, and America —
the resources from which are drawn the matter
and illustrations of the paper. Below, in the
centre of the scene, is a drawing-room, with ladies
and gentlemen engaged in looking over the paper
and conversation ; on one side, at the base, is a
rural retreat, on the other a seashore view, the
whole enclosed in a border of scroll work enliv-
ened with cupids sporting and holding festoons
of flowers. To those who have volume 1st bound,
we need only say that this second volume is far
superior to it in every respect ; but to those who
have never seen the Pictorial bound, we can only
say, come and look for yourselves. We are also
binding up the volume as fast as handed in by
om" subscribers, at the imprecedented low price
of one dollar, as described above. Any of the
back numbers that may have been injured or lost
can be supplied at our office by early application.
THE SEA-SERPENT.
Would you believe that the famous sea-ser-
pent has actually made his appearance off tlie
rock-bound shores of Nahant ? So it is. In an-
other place you wdl find a likeness of his snake-
ship. By the by, there are some delightful at-
tractions at this peninsula, at all times ; to say
nothing of the cool, bracing atmosphere, as con-
trasted with the wilting heat of the town. There
is the Swallows' Cave, Pulpit Rock, the Spout-
ing Horn, and other curiosities ever attracting
the visitor ; and when by examining these he has
created a good appetite. Col. Drew, of the famous
Nahant Hotel, is ready to pi-escribe for tlie inner
man in a way that he so well understands, and
which renders one quite at home. Col. Drew's
beautiful steamer, Josephine Clifton, is now
running regularly each day between Nahant and
Boston.
JrsT so. — The Post says the public houses at
Newport are being filled fast. Several " leading
citizens," and some of "the first families," are
there. Owing to the anti-liquor law of Rhode
Island, visitors take their medicine with them.
In this eity, by Rev. Mr. Streetcr, Mr. James F. Crabo
to Miss Delia T. Pollard.
By Rev. Mr. Smithett, Mr. Asa Worcester to Miss Ellen
M. SVickers.
By Rev. Mr. Porter, Mr. William Kenne to Mies Mary
Currier.
By Rev. Mr. Fox, Mr. Richard Halls to Miss Elizabeth
N. Gate.s.
By Mr. Davis, Mr. Edward H. Eldridge to Miss Lydia B.
Richardson,
At Roxbury, by Rev. 3Ir. Putnam, Mr. A. W. Spencer
to Miss Josephine Vila.
At Brookline, by Rev. Mr, Sanger, Mr. S. Merrill, of Na-
tick, to Miss Rebecca R. Blake.
At Walpole, by Rev. Mr. 3Icrrick, Mr. John P. Prichard
to Miss Elizabeth A. Tapley, both of Charlestotra.
At Eastou, by Rev, Mr. Sheldon, Mr. Joshua D. Howard,
of South Boston, to Miss Lusanua W, Kimball.
At Worcester, by Rev. Mr. Colvcr, Mr. Joseph W. Col-
bum to Miss Charlotte A. Blunt, both of Bostou.
At Essex, by Rev, Dr. Crowell, Mr. John B. Lane to MisB
Elizabeth C. Choate.
At Waterville, Me., Mr. John B. Foster, of Portland, to
Miss Ann D, Kobinson.
At Philadelphia, by Rev, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Lemuel Coffin,
formerly of Newburyport, Ms., t^a Miss Amantine Monges.
At Hallowell, Me., by Rev. Mr. Albee, Mr. Joseph A.
Griffin, of Boston, to Miss Marj- Jane Dearborn.
At Tewksbury, Ijy Rev. Mr. Coggin, Mr. J. N. Goodhue,
of St. Paul. Minnesota, to Miss Julia A. Kittredge.
«-<V^#^:
Explanation. — " Cuffee, is that the second
bell V " No, massa, dat's de second ringin* ob
de fuss bell. "We haven't got no second bell in
dis ere hotel."
Bright. — The planet Venus is said to be
more brilliant now than for ten years past.
In this city, Mrs. Betsey Howe, 50 ; Mr. Nath'l Green-
ough, 74 ; Mi-a. Matilda Morse, 49 ; Mr, Job Powers ; Mrs.
Mary Bean, 73: Mr. John Grey, 77 — for the last 30 years
insane ; Mr. William Hughins, 23 ; Mrs. E, M. T. Jackson,
82 ; Mr. Terrence Sweeney, 57 ; Mrs. Mary B. Fuller, 48.
At Roxbury, Mrs. Elizabeth Ford, 72.
At Charlestown, Mrs, Diana A, Austin, 29,
At Salem, Mr. Jonas Bettis, 61 ; Miss Louisa Peabody,
14; Mr. Henry Thompson, 21.
At Concord, Hon. Phineas How, 55.
At North Scituate, Mr. Caleb Bailey, 83-
At Amesbury, Dr. John W. Wadleigh, of Haverhill, 32.
At Haverhill, Miss Eliza R. Emerson, 27.
At Newburyport, Mrs, Polly W, DorrUl, 64.
At Rockport, Mr. Lemuel ElweJl, 22.
At Nantucket, Mrs. Anna Saudsbury, 63 ; Mrs. Eunice
Husscv, 87 ; Mrs. Judith Swain, 79.
At North Hadley, Mrs. Olive Smith, 85.
At Conway, Dr. George Rogers, 73.
At Belchertown, Mr. Mark Stacv, 87.
At Brookfield, Mrs. Mary Smith, 96.
At Portland, Me., Martha Dellano. 82.
At Westmoreland, N. H., Mrs. Elizabeth Cook, 85.
At Providence, B, I., Mrs, Caroline Olney, 55.
At New York, Mr. Charles J. Hunt, of Boston.
At Washington, D. C, Mr. E. M. Cunningham, 60.
At Goshen, Ind., Dr, G. H. Parsons, 52.
At San Francisco, Mr. Seth G. Cummings, of Maine, 48 ;
Mr. James French, of New Hampshire, 36 ; Mr. John B.
Emerson, of Massachusetts, 22.
— AND —
LITERACY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOKIAL
JDrftun«tj^H00tit (SIotn^rtiTtoiT*
A Record of the heautifu^ and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to pre.scnt, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of tbe day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whola
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and Oi men and manners, altogether making a. paper en-
tirely original in it^ design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city m the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant ser^e, with line and accurate portraits of
every noted character in tbc world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, ^vill al.so be
given, ivith nimierous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface p2.per, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pro-
Benting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fitleen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as ita aim is constantly, in connection with tha
fund of amusement it aQbrds, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the ptrictest and
highest toue of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view nil that is good and pure, and avoiding all
th-it is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 FEB VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANN'UM,
INVARIAULY IX ADVANCE.
Each six montUs completes a volume, commencing oa
the f.Tit of January and July ; thus making two vslumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[C7=" One copy ot tuc Flag of oub Cnios, and one copy
of the PicTOKiAL Drawing-Hoou CoMi'AXioN, oue year,
for ©6 UO,
[Cr" The PicTOKiAL Drawing-Room Companion may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ten cenla per single copy
Pubhshed every Saturday, by
F. GLEASON, Bosiox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS. TAYLOR & Co., Ill Balthnore St., Baltimore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 10 West 3d Street, Cmcinnati.
J. A. ROYS. 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. 4th and Chesnut, St. Louis.
V^y Subseriplions received at either of the above places
14
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOIM COMPANION.
[Written for OIoaflon'H Plctoriftl.]
ON THE FOURTH OF JULY.
HT JOHN RUaSKI,.
Hail! thou nHspiciouN, glorious morn,
Which gave the llrltlHh chaps their corn;
When every patriot hero liaU flworn,
From that day forth,
All llritinh tyranny to nconi,
Id uattt or north.
Eronta had lang preceded thoflo,
Destined to Diak a noblo blcozo,
Ah lang as there arc hills or bcob,
Or dei'dfl to toll,
"Where urniios mufltorod thick aa hccs,
And Britinh fell.
The tyrants of the noblc'a land.
Had i-odc John with so high a hand,
That they dared even to command
The patriots here ;
Thin put our nation to a stand,
But not to fear.
At Bunker's hill wc gave thorn battle,
And put to proof our sterling mettle,
The British fled away like cattle,
Or stricken deer ;
M'ha' fell not on the field o' battle.
Fled fast for fear.
Wu met the cravens aft agjiin,
And gave them bucksliot for their pain,
Till they wore thankful to refrain,
And did decree,
(Since they could not keep ua in chain,)
To set us free.
And now we hnil the glorious day,
Which first gave liberty its away,
■Which shed its first, its rising ray
On this hlest shore ;
Here may it take its lasting stay.
To set no more 1
[Writt«n for Glcason's Pictorial.]
THE LITERARY WIFE.
BY MRS. CAllOHNE OIINB.
" Well, thank my stars, my wife is not lite-
rary," said Morris Scdley ; a remark which had
been elicited hy something whicli his friend,
Charles Staniford, had been saying.
"Neither," said Staniford, in reply, "is Wil-
liam Barclay's wife what would, strictly speak-
ing, be called literary. She is by no means what
would be called a blue stocking."
" I don't know what ouglit to be called a blue
stocking, then. One thing is certain, she is eter-
nally scribbling for the magazines and news-
papers."
" I should think eternally rather a strong
word; for my sister, who is on terms of intimacy
with Mrs. Barclay, says she superintends lier do-
mestic affairs, and does all the plain sewing for
Jie family ; while, as you and I both know, there
is no lady of her station, who dresses with more
neatness and taste."
" All this may be ; but depend on it, 'twill be
only for a short time. The cacoethes sc7-iheiKU
will grow upon lier, and in the eonrsc of a few
years slie will degenerate into a downright slat-
tern, or, what I consider almost the same thing,
into a 6(15 bleu in its broadest sense."
"We shall see," said Charles Staniford, as he
and Sedley parted at the threshold of the well
filled store belonging to the latter.
It is well that mortals are not gifted with the
power of ubiquity. If they were, the mind of
Morris Sedley might have been seriously dis-
turbed ; for at ttie very moment he was thanking
his stars that his wife was not literary, she was
seated at a table, on whicli she was leaning in a
thoughtful attitude, with a sheet of paper spread
before her, and a pen in her hand.
Ellen Sedley was young, with liandsome fea-
tures, and a fine, transparent complexion. It
might, moreover, be said of her, as Lumqua —
called by Europeans the Sir Tliomas La^vTcnce
of China — said of an English belle, "lier face
talks." She had already, ur.der an a.ssumed
name, contributed several articles to a popular
periodical, which had been received with great
favor, and it was predicted that she would take a
high stand among the most popular and approved
writers.
She had not, at fir.st, been impelled to write,
cither from a desire of gain, or even fame, but
nimply to give expression to the beautiful
thoughts which ivoitld well up fiom the depths of
lier heart, like waters fiom the crystal fountain.
She did not think them worth publisliing, and
liad it not been for Eliza Ray, her cousin, whom
ulic permitted to read Iier effusions, t!icy would,
in all prol)ability, have been transfciTcd from her
portfolios to the fire, when that receptacle liud
become too much crowded. She was not, at
that time, aware that M(H-ris Sedley entertained
so strong a prejudice against literary Indies. As
soon ns she ascertained it, by some casual re-
mark made by him on the subject soon after
their marriage, slie sent nothing more for publi-
cation. She, however, continucil to write for her
own amusement, iind tliat of her only eoniidant,
Eliza Hay. Having become intercste<l in the
characters which she had introduced into a tale,
already commenced, she had continued it, till it
had promised to grow into a good sized volume.
Though she Sent nothing more herself, her
cousin, without consulting her, forwarded a poem
whicli Iiad struck her as very beautiful, to the
publisher of the periodical to which slie had for-
merly contributed. Ellen Sedley imagined that,
with the exception of her cousin, there was not
a person in existence who suspected that a single
line written by her had ever been printed. In
this, she was deceived. Her chirograpliy, which
was elegant, as well as somewhat peculiar, had
betrayed her to a lady of her acquaintance, who
had by some chance seen one of her stories in
manuscript. The lady had subsequently pointed
her out to her brother, as the writer of a scries
of tales, which she knew he much admired,
though she refused to tell him her name. The
brother, whose name was Stafford, at that time
had no acquaintance with Mr. Sedley. Not long
afterward, the two gentlemen, being frequently
thrown together, became familiarly acquainted.
The very day the conversation relative to lit-
erary ladies took place between Mr. Sedley and
Charles Staniford, Stafibrd called into Mr. Sed-
ley's store. As they were chatting together,
Stafford took up a paper which was lying on the
counter, and as he ran his eye carelessly over its
columns, it was suddenly airested by the nom de
plume which had been adopted b}' Mi-s. Sedley.
"Ah," said he, "I am glad to see something
from the pen of my old favorite. Have you read
iti" he asked, pointing out a piece of poetry to
Sedley.
" No ; I should have my hands full, if I under-
took to read all such trasli."
" Do not call this trash — it is a perfect gem —
a diamond of the first water. Listen, while I
read it, and you will agree with me;" and with-
out paying any attention to certain deprecatory
exclamations on the part of Sedley, he read the
poem.
Being an excellent reader, he did it full jus-
tice, and Sedley was constrained to acknowledge
that it was not so " wishy-washy " as he had
anticipated.
" I suppose Barclay's wife wrote it," said he.
" 0, no," replied Stafford, " Mrs. Barclay,
though a veiy good writer, is incapable of writ-
ing anything equal to this. I have seen the lady
who wrote it ; my sister pointed her out to me
one day, but no persuasion could induce her to
tell me her real name. One thing, however, is
certain. She is as beautiful as an angel ; and if
Louisa had not told me, by way of prevention,
that she was married, I certainly should have
fallen in love with her. By the golden lyre of
Apollo," he exclaimed, looking out at the door,
" there she is now. Quick, or yon wont get a
sight of her."
Sedley ran to the door, and looked in tlic di-
rection indicated by Stafford.
"Do you mean the lady in the palm-leaf
shawl r'
" No, indeed, the one in the black mantilla.
There, she turns her face this way. Isn't she
beautiful '?"
" Why, that is Ellen."
"Ellen? Who is Ellen f
" My wife."
" Why, I thought that you did not tolerate
literaiy ladies."
" You thought right — I do not tolerate them.
Ellen never wrote a line of poetry in her life."
" Are you certain of it V
"Yes, I think I may say that I am certain of
it. I once spent three months in a family where
there was a has hleti, and ever since, I have en-
tertained a perfect horror of the whole sister-
hood, and believe that I should be able to detect
one of them at once, though ever so closely dis-
guised. The one I boarded With was, as she
told me, writing a nniversal history, an epic
poem, and a tragedy ; and compelled herself to
work on one or the other of them sixteen hours
in every twenty-four. That I cared not for, if
sliG had not so frequently seized me by the .sleeve,
or a coat-button, and compelled me to listen to
her, while she repeated passages from her poem
and tragedy. Unfortunately, she had seen an
engraving from the i>orti'ait of Mrs. Siddons,
which delineated her in the character of the
Tragic Muse ; and in reciting to me what she
termed the deeper passages of her tragedy, she
attempted to imitate the attitude and expression
of countenance as tliere portrayed. At last, I
became so nervous at the idea of being obliged
to listen to her, that I exclianged my boarding-
place."
"And you think her a fair specimen of the
whole class of literary ladles?"
" I know of no reason why I should think
otherwise."
" You are behind the times, Sedley. The
opinion you express would have been well
enough suited to the last century, and it may bo,
the beginning of the nineteenth century, but not
to the present time. Fomicrly, people imagined
that the same head which could compose a figure
in rhetoric, was totally incompetent to concoct a
pudding; while fijigcrs, which could with any
dexterity handle a pen, would be sorely puzzled
in attcmjjting to darn a stocking. It, however,
has been pi-oved by actual experiment, that the
same lady may compose a good poem, and make
a still better pudding ; that she may write pas-
sable stories and sketches, and yet by no means
be an anomaly."
Sedley slightly shrugged his shoulders, as he
said :
" Since you like literary ladies so well, I ad-
vise 3'ou, if ever you man-y, to select one for a
wife. For my own part, I am content with one
whose tastes arc thoroughly domestic."
" And whose personal attractions are of the
first order," said Stafford, smiling.
So certain was Sedley that his wife never un-
dertook to write anything, except a school com-
position, or a familiar letter, that he scarce gave
the circumstance of her having been pointed out
to him as the authoress of the poem Stafibrd had
read to him, a second thought.
At the time of the foregoing conversation, Mr.
Scdley was one of the most prosperous merchants
in the city. Six montlis afterward, in conse-
quence of some lieavy losses, he became much
embarrassed. Ellen saw that he was troubled
about something, and, in answer to her earnest
inquiries, he, at last, reluctantly confessed to her
the true state of his affairs. He, however, by
great exertion, continued to stem the tide which
threatened to overwhelm them.
Several months passed in this manner, when
one day he found that on account of being disap-
pointed relative to the receipt of a sum on which
he had confidently counted, he should be unable
to meet a lieavy pajTnent due the bank. The
probable consequence of this, by exciting the
alarm of several to whom he was indebted, would
be to involve him in ruin. He had applied to a
number of persons, whom he had from time to
time accommodated in the same way, to borrow
the necessary amount, but not a single applica-
tion had proved successful. In one hour more
the bank would be closed, and he would be a
bankrupt. He was seated in the inner apartment
of his store, gloomy and despondent, when his
Avife entered, with a face radiant with smiles.
His first emotion at seeing her appear so happy
when he was so miserable, savored somewhat of
anger, which he, however, at once checked, as
mean and selfish.
" I have come to ask a boon," said she.
The vision of a cashmere shawl, which, previ-
ous to the embarrassed state of his pecuniary af-
faii's, he had voluntarily promised her, rose before
him, and the gloom darkened upon his brow.
" Will you not promise to grant it?" said she,
regarding with some alarm the sudden change in
his countenance.
" It is impossible," said he (he was still haunt-
ed witli the vision of the cashmere shawl.) " In
less than an hour I shall be known as a mined
merchant."
" That is what I suspected, fiom what my
brother told me," said she, " and on that I found
my only hope, that you will grant what I came
to ask."
" You speak in riddles ; what is it you came
to ask ?"
" Your forgiveness."
" On what account ?"
" For daring to have a talc printed, which for
the last three years I ha\'c amused myself by
writing."
Ellen, arc you in earnest?"
" I am."
" And you did this witli a knowledge that a
has bleu is my aversion ?"
" I plead guilty."
" You, at least, miglit have consulted me."
I should, only I feared your prohibition."
" You did ?"
There was not much in these two monosylla-
bles, but the manner in which they were »pokca
was expressive ol' anger.
"Ipcrceive," said she, "that youdcem my of-
fence unpai'donable ; but good, you know, may
sometimes come out of evil. If I had not luul
my book printed, I could not make you thi.s
trifling birthday present." (Sedley was that
very day twenty-eight.)
As she spoke she handed him a roll of bank-
bills.
" Please count them," said Ellen. " I believe
there is rather more than the sum you are in
immediate want of."
" I am afraid, Ellen," .said he, hastening to
obey her, for there was no time to lose, " that
this will prove a fairy gift — that before I can
appropriate them, these bills will change to
worthless bits of paper."
" Tlierc is no danger tliat the gift of a good
fairy will change," said she.
" Then there is no danger. But what am I
to understand? Is this money really yours, or
have you been more successful than I, and bor-
rowed it? "
" It was mine, but now belongs to you, on
condition that you will pardon me for selling the
storj-, this day published, by which I obtained
it."
" I accept the condition, and well I may, for
what I hold in my hand will save me from ruin.
I will confess, however, tliat I am rather aston-
ished at finding my wife a blue-stocking."
" I don't think the term applicable to me. I
have always had the impression that the genuine
blue-stocking among women, is much the same
as the pedant among men, and at the present
day we have very few of eirhcr. I can moreover
assure you, that until you met with those heavy
losses, which caused you so much pecuniary em-
barrassment, I never thought of writing a line,
except for amusement, after I found that you were
somewhat prejudiced against literary ladies."
" Well, I will own that my prejudices were, at
least in one instance, unreasonable. But how
you could manage to write a book without my
ever having caught you slipshod, out at the el-
bows, with dishevelled hair, or ink-stained fin-
gers, or without ever finding my wardrobe out of
order, or my meals badly prepared, is a mystery
to me."
"A simple statement of my mode of procedure,
at some time when you have the leisure to listen,
will, I think, clear up the mystery. For my own
part, I should not think much of a head which
had no room for anything but receipts in cookery
and Parisian fashions."
Ellen Sedley's book proved so popular, that a
second edition was soon called for; yet there was
no change in her domestic habits, and one of the
uninitiated would never have suspected that she
was more literary than her neighbors.
Stafford and otliers among Sedley's friends and
acquaintances did not fail to rally him on the
subject of his aversion to ladies of a literary turn,
which he invariably bore with great good Iiumor.
He even had the magnanimity to confess that his
wife's talents had saved him from bankruptcy.
"But then Ellen," he was in the habit of adding,
" was an exception to the general rule."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LOVE AND AFFECTION,
BY FINLET JOUNSON.
As floivers in the Gpring-timo
Break through the frozen ground,
And their rich fragrance scatter
Upon the air around ;
So love and true affection,
As in the soul they start,
Break through the frozen groundwork
Which gathers round the heart.
If hearts arc cold ond icy,
Speak thou with kindly tone;
And warm them with affection
And love, which is thine own;
The iciest hearts are melted
By love's endearing voice,
And true affection causes
The sad soul to rejoice.
Distrust all those who love you extremely
upon a very slight acquaintance, and without any
visible reason. Be upon your guard, too, agninst
those who confess, as their weaknesses, all the
cardinal virtues.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
15
ELOQUENT TRIBVTE.
The following is copied from the Trumpet and
TJnivei-salist Miigiiziue, and is from the pen of
the editor, Rev. Thomas Whittcmorc, rchitivc
to the late decease of Rev. Hosea Ballon. It is
not common for men in tliese mercenary times,
these days of cold selfishness, to speak out thus
freely and honestly from the heart. AVe are at
a loss which most to admire — the eloquence of
the pass:\ge, or the sincerity which dictates it.
" For myself {for I will tlirow off the editorial
style), I acknowledge that I feel most deeply the
loss of this steadfast friend. I mourn, not for
him, hut for myself. To me he had hecn a father.
He found me in my early manhood, and drew
me out from seclusion. He taught my lips to
I>iay. He turned my attention to the ministry ;
and' he sought and obtained the means to sup-
port me when I had not a cent with which to
help myself. He was in the desk with me ivlien
I stood up tremblingly (in the Town House in
Roxbury) to preach my first sermon. He intro-
duced me to the society in Milford, Mass., where
I hi\d my first pastoral charge, and where I
formed the tenderest relation of human life ; and
lie was the cause of my being invited, in tlie year
1822, to settle at Cambridgeport, where I ever
since have lived. For six years thercjifter, I
associated with liim in conducting the ' Univer-
salist Magazine ;' and from that time to his
death, he has hecn a constant contributor to the
columns of the ' Trumpet,' refusing for the last
ten years all pecuniary compensation, although
repeatedly pressed upon him. He has been the
earnest, steadfast friend of my wife and children ;
my eartlily guide and counsellor, who has re-
proved me, but not too often ; my teacher to the
end of his life ; a man of whom I have learned
more concerning God and the divine word, and
tlie relation between God and man, than I have
learned from any other human source. How
can the event of such a man's death transpire,
without exciting in me extraordinary sensibility '?
And yet I am not inconsolable. AVlien I reflect
upon what he was, — upon the length of his life, —
upon the great measure of good lie accomplished.
— upon the fact that he was permitted (although
so much away) to die at home, surrounded by
his most exemplary and loving children, after a
very brief sickness, and to die so gently, almost
in the act of binding sheaves in the harvest-field,
— I cease to mourn. I thank God that I saw
him within an hour of his death, and that he
knew me, and extended his Iiand, and tliat I
was permitted to take it and kiss it. And now,
although there never will be, for there never can
be, another man to me like Father Ballou, I will
be reconciled. And I will close this brief sketch
with the words of Job, — ' The Lord gave, and
the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name
of the Lord.' "
AItrERICO-BOIIE3II.\iV GLASS.
A recent visit to Boston gave us an opportu-
nity of visiting the New England Glass Works
(says a contemporary), which, for the extent
and variety of their operations, probably surpass
all others in the country. "We were repeatedly
struck with the fact, new to us, that most of the
exquisite, richly colored and decorated glass
ware, which is so much admired under the name
of "Bohemian glass," is manufactured at these
works. The variety and beauty of the articles
manufactured there would scarcely be credited by
one not a visitor ; but we assure our readers that
we saw many works that could not be surpassed
in Bohemia or anywhere else in Europe. The
various processes by which the different colors
and the rich gilding are produced, we are not
prepared to describe ; but they are produced at
these works in the utmost perfection. The com-
pany has the advantage of a charter and a large
capital, which enable them thus to compete suc-
cessfully with foreign manufacturers in this work.
The "Whalers. — Letters received at Warren,
R. L, from the Sandwich Islands, dated in April
last, say that the whalers there are having a bad
time, particularly with their crews. Some ships
have lost half their crews by desertion, others
have men in irons, and two ships have been set
on fire — wliieh will, as the writer adds, "be tlie
means of ruining a large portion of the voyages
in this ocean."
Lrsus Natue.e. — In Sheldon, Wyoming coun-
ty, there is a girl only seven years of age, who
has a full moustache on the upper lip, large
enough for a cavalry ofticcr, and beard, which,
though fit only for " a middling grenadier," is
Urge enough to be the envy of city striplings of
21 or 22 years of age. This unusual growth of
hair began when she was five years old, since
which time it has been repeatedly plucked out-
Slave Trade ix Brazil. — Advices from
Brazil report the opening of parliament. The
emperor in a speech sa^^s he has done mucli to
suppress the slave trade, and will continue his
efforts until it is altogether extinguished.
lllaj]siiJe ©atljcriugs.
The jail of Clermont Co., Ohio, is tenantlcss.
Mr. Clay, at last accounts, was barely alive at
his quarters in Washington.
General Wiufield Scott is sixty-six yeare old,
Daniel Webster is seventy-one.
Ttie Chinese are about to commence the cul-
ture of tea in California.
Mr. Stevens, of the Revere House, has become
lessee of the Tremont House.
General Caleb Cushing has resigned the office
of mayor of Newburyport for his judgeship.
An iron bridge is to be thrown across the
Nashua River at Indian Head.
The Ravel Family, forty in number, are very
successful at the Howard Athcnaium.
The new " Musical Hall," Boston, is fast ap-
proaching to completion. It is most creditable.
We regret to see by the New Orleans papers
that the cholera is raging there.
The Kentucky tobacco crop has been recently
injured by frosts.
The democratic nominee for vice-president has
been a U. S. senator for thirty-two years.
Miss Davenport, accompanied by her mother,
has been on a visit to Niagara.
Scrope Davis, the wit, the scholar, and the
early friend of BjTon, is no more.
The army worm is playing sad havoc in the
meadows near Franklin, Tenn.
Eighty-nine head of yearling mules were sold
recently, at Bedford, la., at §48 each.
Wives should see to it that the lives of tlieir
husbands are insured.
A wagoner was fined S7.50, recently, at Mays-
ville, for severely whipping one of his horses.
Accounts from all points of Illinois represent
the wheat cxop to be in a most flourishing condi-
tion.
Upwards of fifty ships have sailed from China
for California, taking, it is estimated, about
15,000 emigrants.
The cholera has made its appearance on the
Mississippi, and fears are entertauaed of its ra-
pid spread.
Mrs. J. W. Ford, wife of a XJniversalist m.inis-
ter at Springfield, came near losing her life by
drinking a swallow of washing fluid by mistake.
The London Builder siiggests tliat the " exact
outline of the area lately occupied by the Crys-
tal Palace should be planted with trees."
A son of Merrill Wheeler, and Sara. Tweedy
(colored), were drowned in 3?royjdence harbor,
lately, by tlie upsetting of a boat.
Rachel is playing before the Emperor of Rus-
sia, at Berliu, having left i*ari3 earlier in the
season than usual, on purpose.
Patrick McEvoy, a teamster in the employ of
C. P. Talbot ^ Co., of Lowell, fell from his wa-
gon in Aiidover, recently, and broke his neck.
A man named Pierce Bickford was nearly
killed by the bursting of a cannon at London,
N. H., lately. If he recovers, he will lose the
use of his eyes and both arms.
Sir James Mackintosh is to have a monument.
The promoters of the scheme are Macaulay, Hal-
lam. Lords Mahon, Brougham an^ Jiansdowne,
and Sir R. Inglis.
Mr. McCormick has sent outfiye hundred and
eighty-one reapers and mowing machines the
pi-escnt season. One was sent to Germany, one
hundred to " the Jerseys," and one to El Dorado.
Dr. Henry Andrus, of Chester, Mass., has
been holdeu in SIOOO to take his trial for stealing
notes to the amount of $3000 fiom Lydia An-
drus, his aunt, in March last. He procured bail.
The average length of Western passages per-
fonned by the Collins line is ten days, twenty-
one hours and ten minutes ; of the Cunard,
eleven days, four hours and thirteen minutes.
A vei'flicf; of §1000 damages has been render-
ed in Providence against Jo.scph Pinkham, of
New England Village, in Graflon, for breaking
his marriage promise ^vith Martha H. E^olbrook,
of Providence.
The expense of- receiving and entertaining
Kossuth, in Albany, will be about $1000, The
New York Times estimates the amount of ma-
terial aid he received in tjhis country at about
5150,000.
Mr. Caleb Dnstin was shook down in Ne\y
York, last Saturday week, by the pocket-book
droppers. He belongs in Derry, N. H., and
paid S20 for his initiation into tlie mysteries of
the art.
The London Times comments upon the fact
that in nine cases in ten of wreck or disaster at
sea, many lives are lost because the boats pro-
vided expressly for such emergencies are either
out of order or cannot be used.
The Empress of Russia is in a very bad state
of health at Potsdam, scarcely able to leave her
couch. She is represented as being extremelv
debilitated, and supported chiefly by medical
stimulants.
We see in an Edinburgh paper a statement
that in South Carolina not a single divorce has
taken place since the close of the revolutionary
war ! Let us hear no more of " disunion," then,
in that quarter.
The Bostonians, ive observe, are moving, or
preparing to move, or at least recommending one
another to move, in the matter of providing a
band of music to play in the evenings on the
Common, during tlie summer.
Jorcigu Ulisccllang.
The British have taken Rangoon and one hun-
dred and fifty cannon.
Sir Henry L. Bulwer arrived at Florence on
the 19tli nit., as British minister to Tuscany.
During the first week m June it was expected
that sub-marine telegraphic communication
would be established between England and
Leland.
There are fourteen hundred and ninety-two
works of art in the London exhibition, this year.
The number of contributors is eight hundred and
sixty-six.
Gold continues to come in from the Austi'alian
placers. The Hinialayah and Sarah Anna from
Port Philippe, bring 41,000 ounces, valued at
XU0,000 sterling.
In Ital}', Piedmont excepted, every one hun-
dred and fourteenth man of the population is in
prison. Every four hundredth man of the popu-
lation is in exile.
Lord John Russell has issued an address to
the electors of London, and will again be a can-
didate for the representation of the metropolis
at the ensuing election.
Col. Eyre has had a severe action with a body
of Caffrcs, in which he lost one captain and sev-
eral men. The 12th Lancers also had a smart
brush with the enemy.
The Portuguese government was contemplat-
ing a revision of the tariff' import-duties. Anew
cabinet was being formed with the Marquis
d'Ageglio as president.
At Paris, on the 2-ith of May, the council of
state, Louis Napoleon presiding, adopted a bill
of public instruction, and ordered it to be sent
to the legislative body.
Lord Stanley states officially that Great Brit-
ain lays no claim to the Lobox Guano Island;
but the admiral on the station has sent a ship
there to protect British interests.
M. de Hackcron's mission from Louis Napo-
leon to the emperors of Russia and Austria, lias
proved a complete failure, as he could not obtain
an audience from either of those potentates.
Maj. Gen. Cathcart, the new governor, had
arrived at British Caftraria, and commenced
operations wliere Sir Harry Smith left off. Noth-
ing can be known of the issue for an arrival or
two.
The accounts from Paris are principally occu-
pied with speculations on tiie coalition fonned
against Louis Napoleon by the northern powers,
during the visit of the emperor of Russia to Vi-
enna and Berlin.
SauLis of ©ollt.
. . . .Idle men are dead all their lives long.
If you would know the value of money,
earn it.
To cm'c a fit of passion, walk out into the
open air.
.... Genuine politeness is the first-born off-
spring of generosity and modesty.
. . . .Pride is a vice, which inclines men to find
it in others, and to overlook it in tlicmselves.
. . . .You cannot truly love, and ought not to
be loved, if you ask anything that virtue con-
demns.
.... Conceit is to nature what paint is to
beauty ; it is not only needless, but impairs what
it would improve.
... .It is an argument of a truly brave dispo-
sition in a learned man, not to assume the name
and character of one.
.... Wise men are instracted by reason, men
of less understanding by experience, the most
ignoi'ant by necessity, and brutes by nature.
, . . . True philosophy, says Plato, consists
more in fidelity, constancy, justice, sincerity, and
in the love of our duty, than a great capacity.
.... Choose the company of your superiors,
whenever yon can have it; that is the right and
true pride. The mistaken and silly pride is, to
prima- among inferiors.
Balzac, the great ^viiter in French prose,
who ^-^xQ harmony and majesty to a pei'iod, it is
said did not grudge to bestow a week on a page,
and was never satisfied with his first thoughts.
Look at the beautiful star, the first and
the brightest. I have often thought it was like
the promise of life beyond the tomI>— a pledge to
us, that, in the depths of midnight, the earth
shall have a light, unquenchable, from heaven.
Guilt, thougli it may attain temporal
splendor, can never confer real happiness. The
evil consequences of our crimes long survive
their commission, and, like the ghosts of the
murdered forever haunt the steps of tlie male-
factor.
"No enjoyment," says Sydney Smith,
" however inconsiderable, is confined to' the pres-
ent moment. A man is the happier for life
from having made once an agreeable tour, or
lived for any length of time with pleasant people,
or enjoyed any considerable interval of innocent
pleas m'c."
. . . .If there is any mannerism that is univer-
sal among mankind, it is that of coloring too
highly tlie things we describe. We cannot be
content with a simple relation of truth ; we must
exaggerate ; we must have " a little too much
red in the brush." Who ever lieard of a dark
night that was not " pitch dark," of a stout man
who was not "as strong as a horse."
iJoltrr's Bubget.
Ladies can draw a beau into a knot at the hy-
meneal altar.
When a man looks a little pale, thoughts of
kicking the bucket naturally suggest themselves.
The only two great watering places now in
the Union are Maine and Massacliusetts.
"My inkstand is stationary," as the school-
master said when he found it nailed to his desk.
How is it that the trees can put on a new dress,
without opening their trunks ? It is because they
have out their summer clothing.
There is no danger of a missionary ever being
lost, from this one fact : they always, no matter
where they go, leave their tracts (tracks) behind
them.
A theatrical friend of ours had a most remu-
nerative benefit a few evenings ago, and has not
turned up since. It is supposed that he is taking
the "Benefit of the Act."
Everybody of course knows that Alboni has
arrived. We merely take this opportunity of
expressing our surprise that a lady, luxuriating
in embonpoint, should be called All-bouey.
" John," said a cockney solicitor to his son,
" I see you'll never do for an attorney, you have
no /(energy." " Skuse me, father," replied John,
" what I want is some of your chiclenary ."
A certain barrister, who was remarkable for
coming into court with dirty hands, observed,
"that he had been turning over Coke." "I
should have thought that it was coals you had
been turning over," observed a wag.
" You've destroyed my peace of mind, Betsy,"
said a desponding lover to a truant lass. "It
can't do you much harm, John, for 'twas an
amazing small piece you had, any way," was the
quick reply.
A young lady was discharged from one of the
largest vinegar houses in our city, one day last
week. She was so stceet that the vinegar was
kept from fermenting. — Cincinnati Enquirer.
" What a pity," said Jethro, as he read the
above, " that that 3"oung lady aint in Massachu-
setts to sweeten vinegar when our cider rations
are stopped." — Sprii.njield Post.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
■\Vo havo volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room Compamos eleg-antly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
AND co^TAI^■l^■G nearly
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manner?), and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLXIMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume,
Lesides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both iu regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNJOIN,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND KEEINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize talcs, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all .'Sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POR THE MnXION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO TIIE UOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now tbo
leading weekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the- foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STTBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year S2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " '■ e 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag op oub Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Dr.vwing-Room CoMPAKioN,one year, for 5500.
ICr' Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmostei-s arc requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
\ry= All orders should be addressed, post paid, to the
PUBLISIIER OP TUE FL.VG OF OUR UnIOK.
*4,* The Flag can be obtained at any rf the i:e a- ■'i- '
tldpofs in the United Slates, and of newspaper carrun, at
FOUR CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
PUBLISllE^AND PEOPRIETOIt, BoSTOSj MASS.
16
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
GENERAL FRANKLIIV PIERCE,
DEMOCRATIC CANniPATK FOR TIIK PKEfllDKNCY.
For the sketch horcwith given of the Dcino-
criitic cJindidiUi.^ fni- the picsidciicv, fo aceom-
pany tlic iinc likmrss liclow, \vv nrr iinlchtcil to
the lute life (if (iniernl I'iciTC, imldished sineo
liis nomination. The reader mnst make allow-
anee for tlie earnest, not to s!iy fulsome ehnracter
of the style, from tiie fact of the book being- pub-
lished as a eainpai;^n document. As ive have
nothing to do witli jiolities, we neither endorse
nor deny tlie statements of tlie general's political
friends eonecrning him. Gen. iVank Pierce, as
he signs his own name, was bora in 1804, and is
consequently 48 years old. lie is the son of tlio
late Gen. Benjamin Pierce,
wlio fought so nobly during
the Revolutionary war, filled
so many oHiees of trust and
])ower, and who was governor
of New Hampshire in 1827
and in 1829. He was aman of
more personal popularity than
any man that ever lived in the
State. At a very early age
Mr, Pierce was elected to tlie
legislature of New Hamp-
shire ; and having for several
years distinguished himself,
both as a member and as the
Speaker of the House, he was
in 1833 sent to Congress as
the Democratic representative
from the district in which he
was born. At the time he
appeared in Congress, the
lujstility which had been in-
flamed against Gen. Jackson,
liad reached and passed its
culminating point. He had
had to contend with a large
majority in Congress, and this
majority was bent upon liis
rain as a public man. All the
agencies that are called in to
crash a great citizen rising
into fame had been tried.
Calumny had exhausted its
venom, and hatred had belch-
ed forth all its malignity. But
the heroic old man had gone
through it all unscathed — the
people of the country had ral-
lied around him, and placed
the seal of their approbation
upon all his public acts. But
there was still a very power-
ful organization against him,
and it was a time when there
was no half-way policy in
Washington. The very day
that a man took his seat, he
was expected to make his
mai'k, if he had chai*acter
enough to make one. Frank
Pierce had ; and from the mo-
ment he entered the House of
Representatives it became ev-
ident enough what course he
would take. He stood by
Gen. Jackson from the first
to the last hour of his admin-
istration. When others de-
serted him, Pierce only clung
to him the closer — when no-
body else would rise in his
place. Pierce sprang to his
feet, and in one of those bold,
brave, fearless, patriotic and
stirring speeches, in which he
so much excels, he liurlcd
back the tide of obloquy and
attack upon the political foes
of the greatest man who had
filled the presidential chair
since the time of Washington.
His integrity of principle won
the respect of Gen. Jackson,
and he reciprocated the kind-
ness of his feelings by the most
deyoted attachment. He was
often at the hospitable board,
and by the genial fireside of
that great patriot, who now
sleeps in the quiet shades of
the Hermitage. He loved him
with an affection that is sel-
dom felt by one man for
another, and the stcmness of
Jackson's character was such,
that he never was awed into
respect for any man, unless
he discovered in him simplic-
ity, honesty, i-esolution and
patriotism. Wliile Mr. Pierce
was still a member of the
House of Representatives, he
was, by a large majority of
the legislature of New Hamp-
shire, elected a member of the United States
Senate for the term of six years, commencing in
1837. Here he remained till the year 1842, when
he resigned his office, entirely on account of the
ill health of his wife, who suffered in the climate
of Washington. During his ten years in Con-
gi-ess, in spite of the earnestness of his debate,
the unbending steraness of his political inter-
course— his uncompromising devotion to the
great principles of the Democratic party, his
warm and e raest defence of Gen. Jackson, his
unwavering dhorcnec with regard to the feel-
ings even of iiis friends to the strictest construc-
tion of the constitution ; yet he could hardly have
made or had a personal enemy in Washington,
His retirement from the Senate in 1842, was wit-
nessed with much regret ; and when he left tlic
senate chamber for the last time, every token of
respect wjis shown to him. The fathers of the
Senate, Clay, Bcnlori, King, Calhoun and nnuiy
others, gathered around him with every denioti-
stration of liigli ]>crsonid regard, and every assur-
ance that he would long he rememljcrcd hy
them. Having, from tiie time his education
commenced, fixed his eye upon the law as the
profession to foUowforlife, Mr. Pierce had given
to it the intenscst study after he left college, and,
although so many public offices were forced upon
him, that his studies were somewhat interrupted,
he kept the great object of Iiis life in view, and
not a day passed away, nor has till the present
time, without adding to Ins legal knowledge or
the wholp stock of knowledge ever committed
them, when called on. The moment siu-li men
have to speak, or write, or act, all that they have
ever read, or heard, or known, or had a chance
to know, springs to their aid in just the order
they want to use it. This makes a I'cady speak-
er. This quality, possessed in so eminent a de-
gree by Fi'ank Pierce, makes him a great, intel-
ligent, and practical lawyer, and from one step
to another lie passed all the grades that lie be-
tween the stinlent who opens Blackstonc, and
the highest principles of national law. He is a
man of fact and not of fancy, and yet there is a
warm, deejj-flowing, generous stream of feeling
and enthusiasm running through his nature.
GENERAL FRANKLIN PIERCE, DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATE FOR TKE PRESIDENCY.
experience. From the beginning he was suc-
cessful as an advocate. He Avas always eleai*-
headed, straight-forward, acute in his perceptions,
earnest in his studies, curious in his inquiries,
and remembering all that he heard or read, emi-
nently practical in the turn of his mind, he was
able, without an effort, to reduce all the theories
of tlie science of law to practical conclusions.
He offers a striking illustration of a kind of in-
tellect that seems to be somewhat peculiar to
New England men — we speak of a mind curious
enough to be always seeking for light, capacious
enough to hold everything, and yet withal, en-
dowed with that rare property which we will call
the chemical power of aiTanging for itself, without
labor to its possessor, all the knowledge he has
acquired. Such minds furnish, ready for use,
which makes him feel the tenderest sympathy
for whatever belongs to the better feelings, and
the noblest and quickest appreciation of every-
thing there is in young men, that promises to do
some good to the country. He never repelled a
young man that came to him for aid. He has
aided many a penniless youth of talent in the
eavly struggle to gain education, and under his
kind auspices, many an indigent young man has
been encouraged to go forward noi)ly on the
battle of life. In the meantime his eminence in
his profession compelled him to appear in many
of the most important causes that were tried be-
fore the Circuit Courts of the United States and
the supreme trilninal of New Hampshire. Public
institutions and corporations retained him as
their counsel, and he has always managed such
causes, like all others, with so much ability, that
he is justly regarded as standing at the very head
of his profession. Something more, however,
might be said with simple verity; for one of the
characteristics of his professional life has been,
that, after laying deep the foundations of his argu-
ment, with the taste of a scholar and the emotions
of an orator, he always gave some freedom to
the activity ami energy of his fancy, in graceful
embellishments, striking appeals, and electric
attacks — qualities which alone can give the fin-
ishing stroke to the fame of the ban-Jster. His
cmineiici- ill thi- bar h:id alicady di.-sigiiated him
for ihe highest ap|)ointment in his native State,
and lie was chosen In' Gen. Jackson as the
District Attorney of the Uni-
ted States for New llamj)-
fihire. Again, on the acces-
sion of Mr. Polk, the same
office was ofil'ered lo him ; but
not feeling it liis duty to ac-
cept, when another good man
could be found, and wishing
to have leisure to attend to
his own affairs, which lie had
so long neglected for the pub-
lic service, and desiring to
devote himself to the charities
and felicities of home, he de-
clined the nomination. But
his professional engagements
and domestic repose were to
be again disturbed by an un-
forseen and momentous event.
The soil of tlie United States
was invaded, and the lives
and property of our citizens
sacrificed to the barbarous as-
saults of the stranger. The
nation flew to arms. The
States were called on to fur-
nish volunteers for the war,
and nobly was the call re-
sponded to. Descended from
a martial race, Frank Pierce
could not resist the tempta-
tion, and breaking away from
the ties of his family, he en-
listed as a common soldier,
to fight the battles of his coun-
try under the Union eagle.
But that such a man, so ca-
pable of leading an armj-,
should serve in tlie ranks asa
common soldier was not al-
lowed. His country needed
the aid of his mind as well as
his arm, and he at once re-
ceived a commission as Brig-
adier General of the Volun-
teers of New England. The
people of Concord lost no time
in offering to the general a
fresh testimonial of their af-
fection, and they raised the
sum of S400, and purchased
for him a splendid horse to
ride in battle. When they
heard the noble steed was dead
they sent him another. These
sums were not raised by a few
personal friends. They were
made up by small but numer-
ous contributions from the
great body of his fellow-citi-
zens— men wlio had known
him from cliildliood — who
loved him for Iiis virtues —
who respected him for his life-
long honesty, and who knew
he would rellect honor upon
the arms of the country. In
March, 1847, General Pierce
received a commission, and
took command of 2500 men
for the Mexican war. In June
he reached Vera Cruz, and
remained in Mexico, taking
an active part in various bat-
tles during that campaign
which ended so successfully
for the American arms. On
his return to his native State,
the citizens of Concord, and
thewhole State ofNew Hamp-
shire, wished to offer some
testimonial to General Pierce,
but he modestly declined ev-
ery honor that was proffered
to him, and as he had always
done through life, was more
ready to aid in conferring
honors upon his comrades
than he was to receive them
himself. At the late Demo-
cratic Convention in Balti-
more, General Pierce, on the
forty-ninth ballot, received tlie
nomination of that pai-tj', and
now stands before the country a candidate for
the highest office in the gift of the people.
Let us acknowledge here our indel)tedncss to
Fetridge & Co., periodic 1 agents and publishers,
72 Washington street, ft r the original daguer-
reotype from which our pi'ture is taken. This
well-known and enterprising house will issue in
a few days two very superior likenesses of Gen-
eral Pierce — the one a lithograph, tlie other a
very fine steel engraving. The public can thus
supply themselves at a very modest charge
with the counterfeit presentment of the Demo-
cratic candidate for the presidency in a style
suitable for framing. The Pictorial and Flag
of our Union, with all the late publications
may always be found on the counter of Messrs.
Fetridge & Co.
1? pTWiQAlM (CORNTJU BROMFIELD
i< . triiili AOUiN , j AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, JULY 10, 1852.
"focT^IS^^iVoL. III. No. 2.— Whole No. 54.
THE COLUMBIAN AKTILLERY.
Our artist has sketched for us helow a scene
representing one of the best artillery companies
of this city. The Columbian artillery company
was chartered in 1798, and our artist has given
them as they appeared a few days since, before
the entrance of their annory, when celebrating
their fifcy-fourth anniversary — it being the 17th
of June — on which occasion they -visited Quincy
and dined with Frcncli, the popular and gentle-
manly landlord of tiie Hancock House. This
company, in common with our artillery regiments
generally, have laid aside their liea\'y guns, for
ordinary pm*poses, and pai'adc as infantry, mak-
ing a most spirited and soldier-like appearance.
They turn out from fifty to fifty-four guns, and
produce a most substantial and military effect.
1'be uniform of the corps is blue and red, with
bearskin caps, as represented in tlie skctcli.
Their armory is in what is called the " Gun
House," Cooper street, and the company is em-
phatically a "North End" corps. The first
commander of the Columbian xVrtillcry was
Robert Gardner, Esq. ; the present efficient and
popular commander is Elijali Thompson. This
excellent body of citizen soldiery were never in
a more prosperous condition than at the present
time, and sbouhl duty call them into actual ser-
vice, they woukl give good account of themselves.
The spirit of good fellowship and brotherly feel-
ing that has so long characterized this company,
is worthy of all praise and emulation, and should
seiwc to promote this excellent and most desir-
able state of things in other city associations of
this character. We wish them all and every
worthv success.
TTTE nOLUlVIBTAN AKTTLLERV, BOSTON.
18
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
EDtci-cd accoiiling to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1852, by F. Glea»on, in tlie Clerli's Office of the
District Court of Mussuchusetts.
[wniTTEN EXPHESSLY FOn GLEASON'S riCTORIAL.]
THE
— on, —
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
% Siwg of €m m\> if}i Cow €^i\U\hi$^
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
[continued.]
CHAPTER III.
A SUDDEN INTRODUCTION.
It was again wight in tlie capital ; the narrow
streets were brilliantly lif};hted from the stove
windows, but tlie crowd were no longer there.
The heat of the long summer day had wearied
the endurance of master and slave, and thousands
had already sought that early repose which is so
essential to the dwellers in the tropics. Stillness
reigned over the drowsy city, save that the soft
music which the governor-general's band dis-
courses nightly in the Plaza, stole sweetly over
the scene, until every air seemed heavy with its
tender influence and melody. Now it swelled
forth in the martial tones of a military band, and
now its cadence was low and gentle as a fairy
whisper, reverberating to the ear from the oppo-
site shore of Regla, and the frowTiing walls of the
Cabanas behind the Moro, and now swelling
away inland among the coffee fields and sugar
plantations.
The long twilight was gone ; but still the deep
streak of golden skirting in the western horizon
lent a softened hue to the scene, not so bright to
the eye, and yet more golden far than moonlight :
" Leaving on craggy hills and running streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.'-
At this favorite hour the Senorita Isabella
Gonzales and her young brother, Ruez, attended
only by the wolf hound, who seemed to be almost
their inseparable companion, were once again
EtroUing in the cool and retired walk of the Plato.
The lady moved with all the peculiar grace so
natural to the Spanish women, and yet through
all, a keen observer might have seen the lurking
effects of pride and power, a consciousness of her
own extraordinary beauty, and the control it
gave her over the hearts of those of the other sex
with whom she associated. Alas ! that such a
trait should have become a second nature to one
with so heavenly a form and face. Perhaps it
was owing to the want of the judicious manage-
ment of a mother, of timely and kindly advice,
that Isabella had grown up thus ; certainly it
seemed hard, very hard, to attribute it to her
heart, her natural promptings, for at times she
evinced such traits of womanly delicacy and
tenderness, that those who knew her best forgot
her coquetry.
Her brother was a gentle and beautiful boy.
A tender spirit of melancholy seemed ever upper-
most in his heart and face, and it had heen tlins
with him since he had known his first early grief
— the loss of his mother — some four or five years
before the present period of our story. Isabella,
though she was not wanting in natural tender-
ness and affection, had yet outgrown the loss of
her parent; but the more sensitive spirit of the
boy had not yet recovered from the shock it had
thus received. The father even feared that he
never would regain his happy buoyancy, as lie
looked upon his pale and almost transparent fea-
tures, while the boy mused thoughtfully to him-
self sometimes for the hour together, if left alone
and undisturbed.
"Ruez, dear, we've not been on the Plato since
that fearful night," said Senorita Isabella, as she
rested her hand gently upon the boy's shoulder.
" It was a fearful night, sister," said the boy,
recalling the associations with a shudder.
"And yet how clear and beautiful it seemed
just before that terrible accident."
"I remember," said the boy.
"And the slaver in the distance, with her soft
white sails and treacherous business."
"And the sparkling moon npon the bay."
" It was very beautiful ; and we have a night
now almost its equal."
" Did you notice how stoutly that Lieutenant
Bczan swam with me ?"
" Yes, brother. You forget, though, that he
is Captain Bezan now," she added.
"Father told me so," said the boy. "How
fearfully the tide ran, and the current set against
us ! He held me way up above the water, while
he was quite under it himself," continued Ruez.
" I was sure he would drown ; didn't it seem so
to you, sister V
"It did, it did; the deed was most gallantly
done," said Isabella, as she stooped down and
kissed her brother; "and you will never be so
careless again, Ruez?"
" No, sister. I shall he more careful, but I
should like to see that Captain Bezan again. I
have never seen him since that night, and his
baiTacks are within pistol shot from here."
" Hark ! what was that ?" asked Isabella, stai-t-
ing at some minsual noise.
" I heard nothing," said the hoy.
" There it is again," she continued, nervously,
looking around.
"Down, Carlo, doiiTi," said the boy, sharply
to the hound, as it sprang at the same time from
a crouching posture, and uttered a deep, angry
growl, peculiar to its species.
But the animal seemed too much aroused to
be so easily pacified with words, and with heavy
bounds sprang towards the seaward end of the
Plato, over the parapet of which, where it joined
a lofty stone wall that made a portion of the stone
haiTacks of the army, a man leaped to the ground.
The hound suddenly crouched, the moment it
fairly reached the figure of the new corner, and
instead of the hostile attitude it had so lately
assumed, now placed its fore paws npon the
breast of the person, and wagged its tail with
evident tokens of pleasure at the meeting.
" That is a veiy strange way to enter the
Plato," said Isabella, to her brother, drawing
nearer to his side as she spoke. "I wonder who
it can be V
" Some friend of Carlo's, for he never behaves
in that way to strangers," said the boy.
" So it would seem ; but here he comes, be he
whom he may."
" By our lady!" said the boy, earnestly, with
a. flash of spirit and color across his usually quiet
and pale face. " Sister, it is Captain Bezan ]"
" Captain Bezan, I believe," said Isabella,
conrtesying coolly to his respectful bow.
" The same, lady."
" Yon have chosen a singular mode of intro-
duction, sir," said the Senorita Isabella Gonzales,
somewhat severely, as she drew herself up with
an air of cold reserve.
" It is true, lady, I liave done a seemingly rash
action; but if you will please to pause for one
moment, you will at once realize that it was the
only mode of introduction of which a poor sol-
dier like myself could have availed himself."
" Our hall doors are always open," replied
Isabella Gonzales.
" To the high bora and proud, I grant you,
lady, but not to such as I am."
" Then, sir," continued the lady, quickly, " if
custom and propriety forbid you to meet me
through the ordinary channels of society, do you
not see the impropriety of rueh an attempt to see
nic a« that wliich you liavc hut just now
made ;"
"Lady, I can see nothing, hear notliing but
my unconqueralilc love !"
" Love, sir !" repcratt.-d the lady, with a cm-1 of
her proud but beautiful lip.
"Ay, love, Lsahulla Gonzales. I'or years I
have loved you in secret. Too humble to be-
come known to you, or to attract your eye, even,
I have yet nursed that love, like the better angel
of my nature ; have dreamed of it nightly ; have
prayed for the object of it nightly; have watclicd
the starry heavens, and begged for some noble
inspiration that would make me more worthy of
thy affection ; I have read nothing that I did not
couple in some tender way with thee; have
nursed no hope of ambition or fame that was not
the nearer to raise me to thee, and over the mid-
night lamp have bent in earnestness year after
year, that I might gain those jewels of the mind
that in intelligence, at least, would place me by
thy side. At last fortune befriended me, and I
was able by a mischance to him, thy brother, to
serve thee. Perhaps even then it might have
ended, and my respect would still have curbed
the promptings of my passion, had you not so
kindly noticed me on the Pasco. 0, how wildly
did my heart beat at that gentle, kind and
thoughtful recognition of the poor soldier, and
no less quickly beats that heax't, when you listen
thus to me, and hear me tell you how deeply I
love."
" Audacity !" said Isabella Gonzales, really
not a little aroused at the plainness of his speech.
" How dare yon, sir, to address such language
to me V
"Love dares do anything but dislionor the
being that it loves. A year, lady, a month
ago, how hopeless was my love — how far off in
the blue ether was the star I worshipped. Little
did I then think that I should now stand so near
to you — should thus pour out of the fullness of
my enslaved and devoted heart, ay, thus look
into those glorious eyes."
" Sir, you are impertinent !" said Isabella,
shrinking from the ardor of his expression.
" Nay, lady," said the young officer, profound-
ly humble, "it is hnpossible for such love as
mine to lead to impertinence to one whom I lit-
tle less than worship."
"Leave me, sir!"
" Yes, Isabella Gonzales, if you will repeat
those words calmly ; if you will deliberately bid
me, who have so often prayed for, so hoped for
such a moment as this, to go, I unll go."
"But, sir, you will compromise me by this
protracted conversation."
" Heaven forbid. But for you I would risk
all things — life, reputation, all that is valuable to
me in life ; yet perhaps I am forgetful, perhaps
t'ionghtless."
" What strange power and music there is in
his voice," whispered Isabella, to herself.
Completel}' puzzled by his deep respect, his
gallant and noble bearing, the memory of his
late noble conduct in saWng Ruez's life, Isabella
hardly knew what to say, and she stood thus half
confused, trotting her pretty foot npon the path
of the Plato with a vexed air. At last, as if
struggling to break the spell that seemed to he
hanging over them, she said :
" How could one like you, sir, ever dare to
entertain such feelings towards me ? the auda-
ciousness of your language almost strikes me
dumb."
"Lady," said the young soldier, respectfully,
" the sincerity of my passion lias lieen its only
self-sustaining power. I felt that love like mine
could not be in vain. I was sure that such af-
fection was never planted in my breast to bloom
and blossom simply for disappointment. Icoitld
not think that this was so."
" I am out of all patience with his imperti-
nence," said Isabella Gonzales, to herself, pet-
tishly. " I don't know what to say to him."
" Sir, you must leave this place at once," she
said, at last, after a brief pause.
" I shall do so, lady, at your bidding ; but only
to pray and hope for the next meeting between
US, when you may perhaps better know the poor
soldier's heart."
"Earewell, sir," said Isabella.
"Farewell, Isabella Gonzales."
"Are you going .so soon?" asked Ruez, now
approaching them fi-om a short distance in the
rear, where he had been playing with the hound.
" Yes, Ruez," said the soldier, kindly. " You
are quite recovered, I trust, from the effects of
that cold bath taken off the parapet yonder."
" 0 yes, I am quite recovered now."
" It was a high leap for one of your age."
" It was indeed," said the boy, with a shudder
at the reniembrunee.
" And, U, sir, 1 luivc not thanked you for that
gallant deed," said Isabella Gonzales, extending
her hand incontinently to Captain Bczan, in the
enthusiasm of the moment, influenced by the
sincerity of her feelings, Ids noble and manly
bearing, and the kind and touching words he had
uttered to Ruez.
It would be ditlicult for us to dcBcribe lier as
she appeared at that moment in the soldier's eye.
How lovely slic seemed to him, when dropping
all reserve for the moment, not only her tongue,
hut her eloquent eyes spoke from the tenderness
of her woman's heart. A sacred vision would
have impressed him no more than did the loveli-
ness of her presence at that moment.
Bending instinctively at this demonstration of
gentle courtesy on her part, he pressed her hand
most respectfully to his lips, and, as if feeling
that he had gone almost too far, with a gallant
wave of th<j hand he suddenly disappeared from
whence he hud so lately come, over the seaward
side of the parapet towards the army barracks.
Isabella gazed after him with a puzzled look
for a while, then said half to herself and in a
pettish and vexed tone of voice :
" I did not mean that he should kiss my hand.
I'm sure I did not ; and why did I give it to him ?
How thoughtless. I declare I have never met
so monstrously impudent a person in the entire
course of my life. Very strange. Here's Gen-
eral Harero, Don Romonez, and Felix Gavardo,
have been paying me court this half year and
mo]'e, and either of them would give half his for-
tune for a kiss of this hand, and yet neither has
dared to even tell me that they love me, though
I know it so well. But here is this young sol-
dier, this new captain of infiintry, wliy he sees
me hut half a minute before he declares himself,
and so boldly, too ! I protest it was a real insult.
I'll tell Don Gonzales, and I'll have the fellow
dishonored and his commission taken from him,
I will. I'm half ready to cry with vexation.
Yes, I'll have Captain Bezan cashiered, and that
directly, I will."
"No you wont, sister," said Ruez, looking up
cilmly into her face as he spoke.
" Yes I will, brother."
" Still I say no," continued the hoy, gently,
and caressing her hand the while.
" And why not, Ruez ?" asked Isabella, stoop-
ing and kissing his handsome forehead, as the
boy looked up so lovingly in her face.
" Because he saved my life, sister," replied
Ruez, smiling.
" True, he did save your life, Ruez," mur-
mured the beautiful girl, thoughtfully ; " an act
that we can never repay ; but it was most pre-
suming for him to enter the Plato thns, and to —
to—"
" Kiss your hand, sister," suggested the boy,
smiling in a knowing way.
" Yes, it was quite shocking for him to be so
familiar, Ruez."
"But, sister, I can hardly ever help kissing
you when you look kind to me, and I am sure
you looked very kind at Captain Bezan."
" Did I f" half mused Isabella, biting the
handle of her Creole fan.
" Yes ; and how handsome this Captain Bezan
is, sistdf," continued the boy, pretending to be
engaged with the hound, wliom he patted while
he looked sideways at Isabella.
" Do you think him so handsome?" still half
mused Isabella, in reply to her brother's remarks,
while her eye rested upon the ground.
" I know it," said the boy, with spirit. " Don
Miguel, General Harero, or the lieutenant-gen-
eral, are none of them half so good looking," he
continued, referring to some of her suitors.
"Well, he is handsome, brother, that's true
enough, and brave I know, or he would never
have leaped into the water to save your life.
But I'll never forgive him, I'm sure of that,
Ruez," she said, in a most decided tone of voice.
" Yes you will, sister."
"No, I will not, and you will vex me if you
say so again," she added, pettishly''.
" Come, Carlo, come," said Ruez, calling to
the lionnd, as lie followed close upon his sister's
footsteps towards the entrance of Don Gonzales's
house on the Plato.
The truth was, Isabella Gonzales, the proud
beauty, was pleased ; perhaps her vanity was
partly enlisted also, while she remembered the
frankness of the humble soldier who had poured
out his devotions at her feet in such simple yet
earnest strains as to carry conviction with every
word to the lady's heart. Homage, even from
the most lowlv, is not without its charm to beau-
1
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
19
ty, and the proud girl mused over the late scene
thoughtfully, ay, far more thoughtfully than she
had ever done before, on the offer of the richest
and proudest cavalier.
She had never loved ; she knew not what the
passion meant, as applied to tlie opposite sex.
Universal homage had been her share ever since
she could remember ; and if Isabella Gonzales
was not a confirmed coquette, she was certainly
very near being one. The light in which slie
regarded the advances of Captain Bezan, even
puzzled herself; the phase of his case and the
manner of his avowal were so far without prece-
dent, that its novelty engaged her. She still felt
vexed at the young soldier's assurance, but yet
all unconsciously found herself endeavoring to
invent any number of excuses for the conduct he
had exhibited !
"It is true, as he said," she remarked, lialf
aloud to herself, " that it was the only way hi
which he could meet me on terms of sufficient
equality for conversation. Perhaps I should
have done the same, if I were a high-spirited
youth, and realhj loved !"
As for Lorenzo Bezan, he quietly sought his
quarters, as happy as a king. Had he not been
succcssfnl beyond any reasonable hope ? Had
he not told his love ? ay, had he not kissed the
hand of her he loved, at last, almost by her own
consent ? Plad not the clouds in the horizon of
his love greatly thinned in numbers ? He was
no moody lover. Not one to die for love, but
to live for it rather, and to pursue the object of
his afl^oction and regard with such untiring and
devoted service as to deserve, if not to win, suc-
cess. At least this was liis resolve. Now and
then the great difference between their relative
stations would lead him to pause and consider
the subject ; but then with some pleasant sally
to himself he would walk on again, firmly re-
solved in liis own mind to overcome all things
for her whom he loved, or at least to sti'ive to
do so.
This was all very well in thought, but in prac-
tice the young soldier will not perhaps find this
60 easy a matter. Patience and perseverance
are excellent qualities, but they are not certain
criteria of success. Lorenzo Bezan had aimed
his arrow high, but it was that little blind fellow,
Cupid, that shot the bow. He was not to blame
for it — of course not.
"Ha! Bezan, whence come 3'ou mtli so bright
a face V asked a brother officer, as he entered
his quarters in the barracks of the Plaza des
Arines.
" From wooing a fair and most beautiful
maid," said the soldier, most lionestly ; though
perhaps he told the truth as being the thing least
likely to be believed by the other.
"Fie, fie, Bezan. You in love, man"? A
soldier to marry 1 By our lady, what folly !
Don't you remember the proverb 1
' Men dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.' "
" May I wake in that state with her I love ere
a twelvemonth," said Lorenzo Bezan, smiling at
his comrade's sally and earnestness.
" Are you serious, captain ?" asked the other,
now trying to half believe him.
"Never more so in my life, I assure you,"
was the reply.
" And who is the lady, pray ? Come, relieve
your conscience, and confess."
"Ah, there I am silent; hername is not for
vulgar cars," said the young soldier, smiling,
and with really too much respect to refer lightly
to Isabella Gonzales.
CHAPTER IV.
CUBAN BANDITTI.
It was one of those beautiful but almost op-
pressively hot afternoons that so ripen the fruits,
and so try the patience of the inhabitants of the
tropics, that we would have Jhe patient reader
follow us on the main road between Alquezar
and Guiness. It is as level as a parlor floor, and
the tall foliage, mostly composed of the lofty
palm, renders the route shaded and agreeable.
Every vegetable and plant are so peculiarly sig-
nificant of the low latitudes, that we must pause
for a moment to notice tliem.
The tall, stately palm, the king of the tropical
foro;t, with its tufted head, like a bunch of os-
trich feathers, bending its majestic form here
and there over the verdant and luxuriant under-
growth, the mahogany tree, the stout Ugnumvita^,
the banana, the fragrant and beautiful orange
and lemon, and the long, impregnable hedge of
the dagger albe, all go to show us that we are in
the sunny clime of the tropics.
The fragrance, too, of the atmosphere ! How
soft to the senses ! This gentle zephp- that only
rufiles the white blossoms of the lime hedges, is
off yonder coffee plantation that lies now like a
field of clear snow, in its fragrant milk-wliite
blossoms ; and what a bewitching mingling of
heliotrope and wild lioneysuckle is combined in
tlie air ! how the gaudy plumed paiTot pauses
on his percli beneath the branches of the plantain
tree, to inhale the sweets of the hour ; while the
chirps of the pedoreva and indigo birds are min-
gled in vocal praise that fortune has cast their
lot in so lovely a clime. 0, believe us, you
should see and feel the belongings of this beau-
tiful isle, to appreciate how nearly it approaches
to your early ideas of faii-y land.
But, alas ! how often do man's coarser dis-
position and baser nature belie the soft and beau-
tiful characteristics of nature about him ; how
often, how very often, is the still, heavenly influ-
ence that reigns in fragrant flowers and babbling
streams, marred and desecrated by the harshness
and violence engendered by human passions !
In the midst of such a scene as we have de-
scribed, at the moment to which we refer, there
was a fearful struggle being enacted between a
small party of Montaros, or inland robbers, and
tlie occupants and outridei-s of a volante, which
had just been attacked on the road. The ti-aces
that attached the horse to the veliicle had been
cut, and the postilion lay senseless upon the
ground from a sword wound in the head, while
the four outriders were contending with thrice
their number of robbers, who were armed with
pistols and Toledo blades. It was a sharp hand
to hand fight, and their steel rang to the quick
strokes.
In the volante was the person of a lady, but
so closel}' enshrouded by a voluminous rebosa,
or Spanish shawl, as hardly to leave any of
her figure exposed, her face being hid from fright
at the scene being enacted about her. At her
side stood the figure of a tall, stately man, whose
hat had been knocked off his head in the strug-
gle, and whose white hairs gave token of his age.
Two of the robbers, who had received the con-
tents of his two pistols, lay dead by the side of
the volante, and having now only his sword left,
he stood thus, as if determined to protect her by
his side, even at the cost of his life.
The robbers had at last quite ovennatchedthe
four outriders, and having bound the only one
of them that had sufficient life left to make him
dangerous to them, they turned theii- steps once
more towards the volante. There were in all
some thirteen of them, but three already lay dead
in the road, and the other ten, who had some
sharp wounds distributed among them, now
standing together, seemed to be querying whether
they should not revenge the death of their com-
rades by killing both the occupants of the vo-
lante, or whether they should pursue their first
purpose of only robbing tlicm of what valuables
they possessed.
Fierce oaths were reiterated, and angry words
exchanged between one and another of the rob-
bers, as to the matter they were hastily discuss-
ing, while the old gentleman remained finn,
grasping the hilt of his well-tempered sword, and
showing to his enemies, by the stern, deep resolve
they read in his eye, that they had not yet con-
quered him. Fortunately their pistols had all
been discharged, or they might have shot the
brave old man without coming to closer quar-
ters, but now they looked with some dread upon
the glittering blade he held so firmly !
That which has required some time and space
for us to describe, was, however, the work of but
a very few moments of time, and the robbers,
having evidently made up their minds to take
the lives of the two persons now in the veliicle,
divided themselves into t^vo parties and approach-
ed the volante at the same moment on opposite
sides.
" Come on, ye fiends in human shape," said
the old man, flourishing his sword with a skill
and strength that showed he .was no sti-anger to
its use, and that there was danger in him.
" Come on, ye shall find that a good blade in an
old man's hands is no plaything !"
They listened for a moment : yes, that half
score of villains held back in dismay at the noble
appearance of the old man, and the flashing fire
of his eye.
" Ha ! do you falter, ye villains ? do ye fear a
good sword with right to back if?"
But hark ! what sound is that which startles
the Montaros in the midst of their villany, and
makes them look into each other's faces with
such consternation and fear ? It is a very un-
frequented spot — who can be near 1 Scarcely
had the sound fallen on their ears, before three
horsemen, in undress uniform of the Spanish
infantry, dashed up to the spot at full speed,
while one of them, who seemed to be the leader
of the party, leaped from his horse, and before
the others could follow his example, was engaged
in a desperate hand to hand conflict with the
robbers. Twice he discharged his pistols with
fatal effect, and now he was fighting swoi'd and
s\^'ord witli a stout, burly Montaro, who was ap-
proaching that side of tlie volante where the lady
sat, still half concealed by the ample folds of her
rebosa, though tlie approileli of assistance had
led her to venture so far as to partially uncover
her face, and to observe the scene about her.
The headlong attack, so opportunely made
by the fresh horsemen, was too much for treble
then- number to withstand, more especially as
the leader of them had met with such signal suc-
cess at the outset — having shot two, and mortally
wounded a third. In this critical state of affairs,
the remaining banditti concluded that disci-etion
was the better part of valor, and made the best
of their time and remaining strength to beat a
hasty retreat, leaving the old gentleman and his
companion with their three deliverers, quite safe
in the middle of the road.
" By our lady, sir, 'twas a gallant act. There
were ten of those rascals, and but three of you,"
said the old gentleman, stepping out of the vo-
lante, and arranging his niffled dress.
" Ten, senor f a soldier would make nothing
of a score of such scapegraces as those," replied
the officer (for such it was now apparent he was),
as he wiped the gore from his reeking blade
with a broad, green leaf from the roadside, and
placed it in the scabbard.
One of the soldiers who had accompanied the
officer had now cut the thongs that hound the
surviving outrider, who was one of the family
attaches of the old gentleman, and who now
busied himself about the vehicle, at one moment
attending to the lady's wants, and now to harness-
ing the horse once more.
Removing his cap, and wiping the reeking
perspiration from his brow, the young officer now
approached the volante and said to the lady :
" I trust, madame, that you have received no
further injury by this unfortunate encounter than
must needs occur to you from fright."
As he spoke thus, the lady tunied quickly from
looking towards the old gentleman, who was now
on the other side of the vehicle, and after a mo-
ment exclaimed :
" Is it possible, Captain Bezan, that we are
indebted to you for this most opportune deliver-
ance from what seemed to be certain desti'uction ?"
" Isabella Gonzales !" exclaimed the young
officer, \vilh unfeigned sui"prise.
"You did not know us, then?" she asked,
quickly, in reply,
" Not I, indeed, or else I sliould sooner have
spoken to you."
" You thus risked your life, then, for stran-
gers ?" she continued.
" You were the weakest party, were attacked
by robbers ; it only required a glance to realize
that, and to attack them and release you was the
next most natural thing in the world," replied
the soldier, still wiping the perspiration from his
forehead and temples.
" Father !" exclaimed Isabella, with undis-
guised pleasure, " this is Captain Bezan !"
" Captain Bezan ?" repeated the old don, as
surprised as his daughter had been.
"At your service," replied the soldier, bowing
respectfully to Don Gonzales.
" Why, sir," said the old man, "what possible
chance could have brought you so fortunately to
our rescue here, a dozen leagues from the city?"
" I was returning with these two companions
of my company from a business trip to the south
side of the island, where wc had been sent with
despatches from Tacon to the govenior of the
department,"
"No, matter, what chance has brought you
here, at all events we owe our lives to you, sir,"
said Don Gonzales, extending his hand cordi-
ally to the young officer.
After some necessary delay, under the peculiar
circumstances, the liorses were finally arranged so
as to peiTiiit of proceeding forward on the road.
The bodies of the servants were disposed of, and
all was ready for a start, when Isabella Gonzales
turned to her father and pressing his ai-m said :
" Father, how pale he looks !"
" AVho, my child!"
" Tliere, see how very pale !" said Isabella,
rising up from her seat.
" Wlio do you speak of, Isabella V
" Captain Bezan, father ; see, there he stands
beside his horse."
" He does look fatigued ; he has worked hard
with those ^^llains," said the old man.
" Why don't he mount ? The rest have done
so, and we arc ready," continued the old man,
anxiously.
At that moment one of the horsemen, better
understanding the case than eitlier Isabella Gon-
zales or her father, left Iiis well-trained animal in
the road, and hastened to his officer's side. It
required but a glance for him to sec that his cap-
tain was too weak to moimt.
Directing the outrider, who had now mounted
one of the horses attached to the volante, and
acted as postilion, to drive towards him whom
his companion was partially supporting, Don
Gonzales asked most anxiously ;
" Captain Bezan, you are ill, I fear ; are you
much hurt ?"
" A mere trifle, Don Gonzales; drive on, sir,
and I will follow you in a moment."
" He is bleeding from his left arm and side,
father," said Isabella, anxiously.
" You are wounded — I fear severely, Captain
Bezan," said the father.
" A mere scratch, sir, in the arm, from one of
the unlucky thrusts of those Montaros," he re-
plied, assuming an indifference that his pale face
belied.
" Ah ! father, what can be done for him ]"
said Isabella, quickly.
"I am unharmed," said the grateful old man,
"and can sit a horse all day long, if need be.
Here, captain, take my scat in the volante, and
Isabella, whom you have served at such heavy
cost to yourself, shall act the nurse for you until
we get to town again."
Perhaps nothing, save such a proposition as
this, could possibly have aroused and sustained
the wounded officer ; hut after gently refusing
for a while to rob Don Gonzales of his seat in
the volante, he was forced to accept it even by
the earnest request of Isabella herself, who seem-
ed to tremble lest he was mortally wounded in
their behalf.
Little did Don Gonzales know, at that time,
what a flame he was feeding in the young offi-
cer's breast. He was too intently engaged in his
O'mi muid with the startling scenes through wliich
he had just passed, and was exercised with too
much gratitude towards Captain Bezan for his
deliverance, to observe or realize any peculiarity
of appearance in any other respect, or to ques-
tion the propriety of placing him so intimately
hy the side of his lovely child. Isabella had
never told her father, or indeed any one, of the
circumstance of her having met Captain Bezan.
on the Plato. But the reader, who is awai*e of
the scene referred to, can easily imagine with
what feelings the soldier took his seat by her
side, and secretly watched the anxious and assid-
uous glances that she gave his wounded arm and
side, as well as the kind looks she bestowed upon
his pallid face.
" I fear I annoy you," said the soldier, realiz-
ing his proximity to her on the seat.
" No, no, by no means. I pray you rest your
arm here," said Isabella Gonzales, as she offered
her rebosa supported in part by lier o^vn person !
" You ai-e too kind — far too kind to me," said
the wounded officer, faintly ; for he was now re-
ally very weak from loss of blood and the pain
of his wounds.
" Speak not, I beseech of you, hut strive to
keep your courage up till we can gain the aid of
some experienced surgeon," she said, supporting
him tenderly.
Thus the party drove on towards the city, by
easy stages, where they arrived in safety, and
left Captain Bezan to pursue his way to his bar-
racks, which he did, not, however, until he had,
like a faithful courier, reported to the governor-
general the safe result of his mission to the south
of the island.
The story of the gallant rescue was the theme
of the hour for a period in Havana, but attacks
from robbers on the road, under Tacon's gov-
ernorship, were too common an occurrence to
create any great wonder or curiosity among the
inhabitants of the city. But Captain Bezan had
got wounds that would make him remember the
encounter for life, and now lay in a raging fever
at his quarters in the infantry barracks of tlie
Plaza des Armes.
[to be continued.]
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly ;
Lahor — all labor is noble and holy.
Mj^. Osgood,
20
GLEASON^S PICTOllIAJ. 1) HAWING llOOM
ANION,
COUNT OF PARIS-I>UKE DE CIIARTRES.
This splcndifl ciifxravinp; is taken tVoin a paiiit-
inp executed at Loiulnn by Mr. AitVnl dc I >iriix,
and represents two of the f^rainiehihlren of iln^
Into Louis Philipi)e, ex-kin^Mil' the French. The
fipires of tliesc boys arc spirited and i;raccfnl,
tlie horses true to tfie Hte, and the whole scene
full of K^-ixcc, beauty and etVcct. The young
count and duko bear historical names, and the
eliaiHT only of a revolution cut otV the Count of
r.'tris iVnni" the throne of l-'rance. These chil-
dren are the only hopes of their mother, the
Duchess of Orleans, widow of the Duko of Or-
leans, the eldest son of Louis l*hilippc. AVlicn,
in the sudden whirlwind of 1848, Louis Philippe
foiiiul tlnit all was lost to himself, in the midst
of the roar and the shouts of the combatants, that
shook the walls of the TuillerieSj ho wrote these
words ; " I abdicate in fa-
vor of my R''iV»tlson , tho
Count of Paris; I desire
that he may be more for-
tunate than L" After the
flight of the king, the duch-
ess, with lier two children,
accompanied by the Duke
dc Nemours, whom tlic
kin^' had di'si-iuated as re-
p.-nt,n'|)air<'d to the Cham-
ber of Deputies. Lamar-
tinc eloquently describes
her appearance as follows :
" Tlie large door which is
opposite tlie tribune, on a
level with the highest seats
in the hall was thrown
open. A lady appeared —
it was the Duchess of Or-
leaus. She was dressed
in mourning. Her veil,
half raised upon her Lon-
net, allowed the eye to rest
iipou a face impressed with
an emotion and sadness
which set off her youth
and beauty. Her pale
cheeks bore traces of a
widow's tears, and the
anxiety of a mother. It
is impossible for a man to
look upon such features
without feeling. All re-
sentment to the monarchy
vanished from the heart.
The blue eyes of the prin-
cess wandered over the
space, which seemed for a
moment to dazzle them,
as if to ask shelter from all
eyes. A slight blush, the
liglxt of hope in misfortune,
and joy in mourning, ting-
ed her checks. Her smile
of gratitude slione through
her tears. It was evident
that she felt herself sur-
rounded by friends. She
held in her right hand the
young king, who tottered
on the steps, and in her left,
her other son, the young
Duke of Chartres, children
whom their catastrophe
was a show. They botli
■wore short jackets of black
clotli, white collars fell
from their necks upon their
dresses — living jjortraits
of the children of Ciiarles
I, step|)cd from the can-
vass of Vandyke. Tlie
Duke of Nemours, fiiithful
to his brother's memory in
his nephews, walked be-
side the duchess, a pro-
tector who would soon
need protection himself.
The countenance of this
prince, ennobled by mis-
fortune, expressed the
brave but modest satisfac-
tion of having accomplish-
ed a duty at the peril of
his ambition and his life.
A few generals in uniform,
and officers of the National
Guard, came down in the
■ferain of the princess. Slio
saluted the motionless as-
sembly with timid grace,
and seated herself at tho
foot of the tribune, like an
accused but innocent per-
6on before a tribxmal from
which there was no appeal, who had just listened
to the cause of royalty. At this moment this
cause was gained in the hearts and eyes of all.
Nature will always tiiumph over policy in an
assembly of men moved by the three great pow-
ers of woman over the human heart — youth, ma-
ternity and pity. Tliis triumph, however, was
but of brief duration. The discussion, con acted
■with resei-ve under the presence of tlr^ i^crson so
deeply interested in the decision, was, broken
short, by the influx of a wave of .e revolution —
men, hot from battle, arm d, and blood and
powder-stained, burst into-.ne assembly. It was
evident that royalty — •■ ,c regency' — the Count of
Paris — the claim o, a princess of the blood —
were words and ininps o" no meaning. Nothing
short of the republic would satisfy the people.
The duchess fled. She fell, with her slender
suite and children, into the midst of a tumult of
assailanls that deluged the outer corridors of the
tribunes. She with difficulty escaped insult,
suflbcatiou and death, thanks to her sex, to her
veil, which prevented recognition, and the arms
of a few courageous deputies. Separated by the
undnhitions of the groups trom her two children
and ibc Duke of Nennpurs, she ,'^ueei-edi-d, with
lirr dcfrndeis, in tlircinllng the crowd of Insur-
gents alone, and descending ihc staircase which
opened in the Salle dcs Pas Perdus. The Count
of Paris, torn by the ttnnult from his tnother,
and pointed out to tho jjcoplc, as the future king,
had been brutally throttled by a man of colossal
stature. A national guardsman, who was look-
ing for the boy, and witnessed this disgusting
profanation, beat wp the arm of this soulless man
by a blow vigorously dealt, tore liie young ]irinco
away from him, and carried him, trembling and
soiled, in the direction of his mother, who burst
into tears as slio ombmccd him. But the mother
missed her other child, the Httlo Duke of Char-
A WORD FOR BARItERN.
Horace Smith, in his " GravitieB and Gayc-
tics " thus rpmintly discoursiis respecting the
kniglit of the shaving-diKh. Jt is curious how a
genius can find a theme of interest even in a
common-place subject, and realize the truth of
Shakspearc's apothegm, of finding "sennons in
stones, and books in ruuinng brooks :"
" Where, indeed, is tlie barber of any age or
country against wdioni an imputation can lie
justly levelled ? His is one of the fine arts which
pre-eminently 'emollit mores, nee sunt esse
feros.' As iron, by attrition with the magnet,
obtains some of its power of attraction, so does
he, by always associating with his superiors, ac-
quire a portion of their polish and urbanity.
Shoemakers, tailors, and other artisans of lonely
and sedentary hfe, arc generally morose, melan-
CHILDREN DANCING.
I dare say my reader 1ms observed the Rcarccly
disguised impatience with which adult votaries of
Terpsicliorc look on at infantine dancing; per-
haps ho has felt it himself — perhaps the writer
has done so in his time. Yet the dancing of
children is, in sooth, a pleasant and a pretty
night; and I have never felt this more strongly
than on occasions when the floor has suddenly
been taken possession of by grown-up dancers in
immediate succession to these little ones. Com-
pare the perfonnance of both, and you will not
need a better proof that grace is natural and not
acquired ; nay more, that it may be lost by over
ti-aining and artificiality. I was following with
my eyes the crowd of little bright, joyous things,
and thinking there was grace in all their move-
ments— grace equally in the perfect dancing of
some, and in the bounding
disregard of art in otherH
— in their boldness or bash-
fulness • — dcmureness or
riot ; — there was grace, I
thought, in thesmall curly,
velvct-tunickod boy of sev-
en or eight, pulling the
muslin skirt of a pretty
lass of ten, with the urgent
plea — " I .say, will you
dance with me ? do now,"
and in the precocious co-
quetiy of the two-tailed
fairy as she disengaged
herself with a pirouette
from the hands of her too
juvenile suitor, and flung
from lier laughing blue
eyes such an irresistible
invitation toasmart,young
middy of the Havana as
brought him instantly to
her side. Away they flew
round the room in each
other's anns and in the
polka, that child's dance
par excellence; and some
chord in my memory had
just been struck by the
piteous spectacle of tho
poor little mortified fellow,
wdio, biting his finger and
slowly shaking his wee
round figure, at length ran
and buried his face in the
lap of a lady ; my atten-
tion, I say, was thus en-
grossed, when — pooh ! in-
to the middle of the Lilli-
putian throng rushed a
human avalanche, in the
shape of a full-groMm — a
very full-groivn couple of
polkists ! The cavalier,
though not old, was fat-
tish, and had a small round
spot of baldness on the
crown of his head, the lady
an exorbitant a-enoUne. —
The poetry of the scene
vanished in a moment ! —
Our Antipodes.
THE COUNT OF PARIS AND THE DUKE DE CHAUTRES.
ti'cs. She called to liim ■with loud cries, and
pressed against the glasses of the garden to see
him brought from a distance. The child had
fallen under the tumultuous mass of people, on
the way from the ti'ibune to the corridors. He
came near being trampled to death, but he was
finally placed in his mother's arms. The joy of
such a meeting can easily be imagined. The
fugitives shortly after left France, and the whole
of the Orleans family found refuge at Clarcmont,
in England, wdicre they have since resided. In
the turns and (;hanges so common to French
history, it cannot be certainly averred, that be-
fore many years, the young count, whom we now
see saluting us so gracefully from tlie saddle,
may not come into the possession of the legacy
of his grandfather — the throne of France. Stran-
ger things have happened even in our own times.
While the race is not always to the swift, nor the
battle to the strong, the devices of political aspi-
rants often fail, and their rapid ascent is only
equalled by their precipitate downfall.
choly, atrabilarious, subject to religious hypo-
chondriacism ; but the patron of the bluff is loco-
motive and social in his habits, buoyant, brisk,
and hilarious in his temperament. There is not,
perliaps, a single instance of a fanatic barber ;
and how many traiCs are recorded of tlicir gen-
erous forbearance. Alfieri was so nervously sen-
sitive, that if one hair was pulled a little tighter
than the rest, he would fly into a paroxysm of
rage, draw his sword, and threaten to destroy the
oficnder; yet such was his confidence, that ho
would the next moment submit his throat to his
razor. How calm and dignified was the reply of
one of this class to the pimple-faced madman,
who, with loaded pistol in liis hand, compelled
him to take off his beard, declaring that if he cut
him in a single place, he would instantly blow
out his brains. After successfully accomplishing
liis difiicult task, he was asked whether ho had
been terrified during the operation. * No, sir,'
replied he, 'for the moment I had drawn blood,
I had made up my mind to cut your throat !' "
AI»rERICAN ARTISTS.
In Rome, there are now
residing nine American
sculptors — Crawford, Ives,
Rodgers, Teny, Wilson,
Story, Bartholomew, Ho-
sier and Greenough, (his
brother, not himself). The
painters are eight in num-
ber— Bro^vn, Hall, Chap-
man, Freeman, Sanders,
Innis, Terry, and Von
Patten. In Florence, there
arc — Powers, Hart, Gault,
and Akers, all sculptors ;
and the painters — Page,
Kellogg, and Nichols. In
the two cities there are,
t h 0 r e f o r e , twenty-four
American artists. They arc
supported chiefly by the
chance travellers, of w^hom
the majority are English.
" I venture to assert," says
the correspondent of the
Washington Intelligencer,
" that where one dollar is
.«pent by Americans, in
Europe, upon English ar-
tists, the English spend
five hundred pounds upon
our artists, and I only
wish that our wealthy men, of New York and
Boston, would devote more attention to the in-
terests of American art, instead of wasting money
in buying up trash, and encouraging imposition."
The foreign commissions keep some of our artists
well and profitably employed. Ives is just fin-
ishing a beautiful female figure, representing
Spring — a girl seated on a bank of grass and
flowers, decorating her hair. He has completed
his Pandora — a full length figure, undressed —
holding in her left hand the fatal box. A bust
of General Scott is among his recent works, and
one of Mr. H. T. Tuckerman. Mr. Rodgers, of
New York, has cast his statue of Ruth, and
moulded several smaller works, among wliich, a
Cupid breaking his bow, is mentioned wiih
praise. Mosier is fast completing a statue of
Pocahontas, and Crawford has put the last
touches to his Jefferson and Patrick Henry.
Crawford has recently executed a beautiful and
exquisite little group, " tho Babes in tho Wood."
— Home JournaL
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
21
TtEE DUKE OF BRABAIVT AIVD THE COUNT
OF FiaJVDERS.
Of die two boys, who make such a brilliant
fig'iu-e in the accompanj-ing engraving, nothing
has yet been recoi'dcd ; indeed, they are too
young to have obtained personal celebrity, which
may perhaps be reserved for them in after years.
They are sons of the king of Belgium. They
bear no distinguishing stamp of royalty, but
have only the gay and lively air of a couple of
gentlemen's sons, released from the thi-aldora of
books and schooling for a day perhaps, and go-
ing out to take a morning's ride. The scene
presented is a park belonging to their father, and
the building in the distance is the royal residence
of Laken. The spirit and action of the horses,
the graceful etFect of light and shade, and the
elegant minuteness of tliis engraving ai'C much
to be admired. It pos-
sesses a tineness and deli-
cacy wliich render it very
eftcctivc as a work of art,
while its tnithfulness com-
mends it to especial notice.
A GAME COCR.
On the memorable first of June (Lord Kowe's
victory) Captain Berkley conimanded the Marl-
borough, and broke thi'ough the French line be-
tween LTmpetuous and Le Mucins, eacli of su-
perior force, and engaged them both. On going
into action the captain ordered all the live stock
to be thro^\^^ overboard, but at the humble re-
quest of his crew permitted them to retain an old
game cock, with which they (the crew) had
fought several times, and always with success.
In the action the Marlborough was so severely
handled by her opponents that half the crew were
disabled, her captain carried wounded below, her
mainmast shot away, and the remainder of the
men driven from their quarters. At the very
juncture when the Marlborough was on the ])oint
of striking, there chanced one of those lulls in
THE OLD IVHALER.
My second messmate was an old whaling skip-
per, witli two very young grand-cbilcb'en — little
fatherless, motherless, helpless creatures, a boy
and a gn-1, who clung together all day, and at
night slept in each other's arms ; and wdio could
not bear to be for a moment out of sight of the
old sailor, their grandfather. Looking from my
berth of a morning through the Venetians, I felt
the moisture rise in my eyes as I watched the bald
and gray veteran taking his little proterjees one by
one from their common crib, carefully washing
and dressing them, combmg their flaxen locks,
and then folding away their bedding. During
the day he would feed and tend them, and carve
toys for them with liis pocket knife. And at
night, after undressing his " little people," as he
called them, he " coiled away and stowed " then-
CHlIiDHOOD.
I can endure a melan-
choly man, but not a mel-
ancholy child. The for-
mer, in whatever slough
he may sink, can raise his
eyes either to the kingdom
of reason or of hope : but
the little child is entirely
weighed doA\'n by one
black poison-drop of the
present. Think of a child
led to the scaffold, thiidc
of Cupid in a Dutch cof-
fin ; or watch a buttei-fly
after its four wings have
been torn off, creeping
like a worm, and you will
feci what I mean. But
wherefore ? The first has
been already given. The
child, like the beast, only
knows purest, though
shortest sorrow ; one which
has no past and no futm-e ;
one such as the sick man
receives from T\ithout, the
di-camer from himself in
his asthenic brain — finally,
one with the consciousness
not of guilt but of inno-
cence. Cei'tainly, all the
soiTows of children are
but shortest nights, as
their joys are but hottest
days ; and, indeed, both
so much so, that in the
latter, often clouded and
starless time of life, the
matured man only long-
ingly remembers his old
childhood's pleasm-e, while
he seems altogether to
have forgotten his child-
hood's grief. This weak
remembrance is strangely
conti'asted with the oppos-
ing one in dreams and fe-
vers in this i-espect, that
in the t^vo last it is always
the cruel sorrows of child-
hood wOiich retm-n ; the
dream, this mock-sun of
childhood, and the fever,
its distorting glass — both
draw forth from dark cor-
ners the feai-s of defence-
less childhood, which press
and cut with iron fangs
into the prostrate soul.
The fan- scenes of dreams
mostly play on an after-
stage, whereas the fright-
ful ones choose for theu-s
the cradle and the nursery.
Moreover, in fevei-, the
ice-Iiands of the fear ot
ghosts, the striking one of
the teachers and parents,
and every claw with which
fate has pressed the young
heart, stretch themselves
out to catch the w.ander-
ing man. Parents, consid-
er then, that every child-
hood's Rupeit — the name
given iu Germany to the
fictitious being employed
to frighten children into
obedience — even though it has lain chained for
tens of years, yet gets loose and gains mastery
over the man so soon as he finds him on a sick
bed. The first fright is more dangerous the
sooner it happens ; as the man grows older, he is
less and less easily frightened ; the little cradle
or bed-canop}'' of the child is more easily quite
darkened than the starry heavens of the man.
— Jean Paul Rickter.
THE ARITHMETIC OF WAR.
It is very difficult to credit or adequately con-
ceive, even, the well attested statistics of war.
AVhcn sucli a philosopher as Dick, or such a
statesman as Burke, brings before us his esti-
mate of the havoc which this custom has made
of human life in all past time, it seems utterly
incredible — almost inconceivable; and still more
are we staggered by the formidable array of iig-
m-cs employed to denote the sum total of money,
squandered on human bntcheiy. Baron Von
Kedcn, perhaps the ablest statician of the age —
tells us in a recent work of his, that the conti-
nent of Europe alone now has full four millions
of men under anus — more than half its popula-
tion— between the ages of twenty and thirty ;
and that the support of this immense preparation
of war, together with the interest and cost of col-
lection and disbursement
on the aggregate of its
war debts, amount to more
than one thousand mil-
lions a year. Let any man
ti-y to fonn an adequate
conception of what is
meant by either of these
sums, and he will give up
the effort in despair. The
Baron estimates the war
debts now resting on the
States of Europe, at about
$7,418,000,000; how shall
we estimate what this
enoiTnons sum means ?
Sliall we count ? At the
rate of sixty dollars a min-
ute, ten hours every day,
for three hundred days in
a year, it would take niore
than eight hundred years
to count the present war
debt of Europe alone.
Let us look for a moment
at what England wasted
for war from the revolu-
tion in 1688, to the down-
fall of Napoleon in 1815.
The sum total, besides all
that she spent upon her
war system in the inter-
vals of peace, was about
§10,150,000,000; and if
we add the interest on
her war debts conti-acted
in that period, the grand
total will reach nearly
SI 7,000,000,000 ! At six-
ty dollars a minute, for
ten iiom-s in a day, or
tliirty-six thousand dollars
a day, and tliree hundred
days in a year, it would
require more than one
thousand five hundred and
seventy-five years to count
it all. Add an average of
$60,000,000 a yeai- for the
current expenses of her
war establishment since
1815, an aggregate of
$2,800,000,000 ill these
thirty-five years, and we
have a sum total of nearly
tti'enty thousand mUh'o'is I
No wonder the Old World
is reeling and staggering
under the burden of such
an enormous expcnditm-e
for war purjMses. Twen-
ty thousand millions of
dollars ! It is nearly thir-
ty times as much as all
the coin now supposed to
be in the world ; and if
these twenty thousand mil-
lions were all in silver
dollars and placed in
rows, it would belt the
globe more than one hun-
dred and sixty times. —
JBoston Daily Advei'tiser.
THE DUKE OF BRABANT AND THE COUNT OF FLANDERS.
HANDS THE SIGN OF RACE.
There are some men who cultivate white
hands with long fair nails. For nothing else do
they care very particularly — all Is well^ if only
their hands be neat. There is even a ridiculous
notion, that elegant hands are the most unequiv-
ocal test of what is called good birth. I can say,
for my own part, that the finest hands I ever saw
belonged to a woman who kept a butcher's shop
in Musselburg. So much for the nonsense about
fine hands. — Oiambers' Pocket Miscdlani/.
the roar of the thundering cannon often experi-
enced in general action. In that momentary si-
lence, when the falling of a rope might be heard,
the old game cock, who bad escaped the human
carnage, hopped up upon the shattered stump of
the mainmast, and, with a loud and tiiumphant
flapping of his wings, sent forth such a long and
lusty challenge as to be heard in every part of
the disabled ship. No individual spoke in reply
to the homely but touching alamm ; one univer-
sal and gallant cheer from the broken crew
ai"ose ; they remembered the indomitable courage
of the bud that sat undismayed above the bleed-
ing hoiTors of the deck, and every soul on board
who could drag their limbs to quarters, re-man-
ned the guns, resumed the action, and forced
their opponents to sun'ender. A silver medal
was sti'uek by order of Admiral Berkley ; it was
hung upon the neck of the old g,ame cock, who,
in the parks and around the princely halls of the
Goodwood, passed the remainder of his downy
days in honored safety. — British Naval History.
day gear, and put on tlieir night clothes — his
great rough hands fumbling the small tapes into
all sorts of nautical knots, which cost him a
world of troid)le to undo in the morning. Then
he placed them in their bed — side by side gen-
erally, but sometimes with their heads different
ways — and, having "shipped" the panel to pre-
vent them from falling out, he would sing them
to sleep with a hoarse lullaby, of which the words
"Yo! heave ho!" and " TV^iack Old England's
foe," fonned the burthen. Then he listened to
their light breathing, and, assured that they
slumbered, dropped his furrowed brow on the
bed-panel for a time, as though he blessed and
])rayed for them, and, posting himself on a bench
below, he opened an old chest, and, taking out a
well-worn book and putting on his glasses, he
read therein sometimes for half the night, so
absorbed in its contents as almost to be wholly
unconscious of every other object or event tran-
spiring around him. — Our Antipodes, by Colonel
Mandy.
A TOUGH YARN.
A gentleman trolling
lately in the Gareloeh for
trout hooked what he
imagined at first to be a
salmon, from its vigorous
run, but by degi'ces be-
came convinced that he
had caught a Tartar of
some species unknown.
After a furious contest of
nearly tivo hours he suc-
ceeded in bringing the captive, now sullen and
exhausted, to the side of the boat, and tackled
him the first opportunity. What was the aston-
ishment of the angler and boatman, however, to
discover that the monster was a fish of the shark
species, common in wai-m latitudes, though a
stranger here. It was hooked on the exterior
of the jaw, otherwise his formidable teeth would
have made short work with the tackle. After
capture it made a fearful straggle in the boat,
and was with difficulty subdued and secured.
It was a female, and measured four feet seven
inches in length. Immediately upon its capture
six young ones launched themselves from the
parent into the boat. This is the second instance
we have heard of the capture of a shark in tliis
neighborhood. — Dumbarton Herald.
How singular it is that everybody is out of
money at the same time. Who^ ever nndertook
to borrow ten dollars without finding all his ac
quaintances had " a little note to take up V
I
22
CxLEASON'S riCTOrJAL DUAWIXG HOOM f'O^IPANION.
[Wrlltun for fJlcnson's Pictorial.]
OUR SHIP.
Lightly, gaily, nimbly, Htiitoly,
Swiftly iiH II IjoundlnR fawn ;
Gontly, tonclorly, Hcdatoly,
GnK'f'fully ns ii white Bwan
Comes our bnrk, whoro only lately
All wiiB trantnill ne the dawn.
Now II mnmnir risrs slowly
In our vcHfcI'B lonely track ;
To the akicH ho heavenly, lioly,
From the dcdpn bo grim and black ;
And the imKi'lf", Rentle, lowly,
Send It sluiddei-ing, wondering hack.
I am ga/.iiig, full of wonder,
At the gloviouH myetcrj',
How our ship can renii asunder
Whvch that riKe so fearfully.
And not go forever under,
To the Lctbo in the eea.
When the storm ia at its highcat.
And tUo waves roll fiendishly.
And tlio weird winds where thou flicst,
Scorn to snatch thee from the sea ;
Then! ah, then! my bouI is Highest
A wild heaven of ecstasy !
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
THE TWO CARPENTERS:
PASTIME REAL AND UNKEAL.
A SKETCH FOR MECHANICS.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JK.
Charles Bracket and Ludlow Weston were
apprentices to a carpenter by the name of Jonas
"White. They were nearly of the same age — about
nineteen, and they were both of tliem of remark-
ably good disposition, and, withal, very punctual
at their work. Mr. White was a kind, indulgent
man, and his woikmen had no occasion to com-
plain of his requirements.
" Charley," said Ludlow Weston, one evening
after they had closed their labors upon a house
that iVIi". White was erecting, "lot us have a ride
this evening."
" No," returned Charles Bracket, as he re-
moved his apron. The answer was short, but
yet it was kindly spoken.
"Come, do," m-ged Ludlow. "It will be a
beautiful evening, and we can have a first rate
time. Wont you go 1"
" I cannot, Lud."
"But why?"
" Because I am otherwise engaged, and beside,
I haven't the money to spare."
" Never mind the engagement, but come along,
and I will pay the expenses."
"If I ever join with a companion in any pas-
time that involves pecuniary expense, I sliall al-
ways pay my share ; but this evening, Lud, I
have an engagement with myself."
" And what can it be, Charley V
" I borrowed a book of Mr. White, a few days
since, and as I promised to return it as soon as
I finished it, I desire to do so as soon as possi-
ble, so I must devote this evening to reading."
" And what is the subject, pray V asked
Ludlow.
" The History of Architecture," returned
Charles Bracket.
" 0, bah ! Such dry stuff as that !"
"It's not dry, I assure you, Lud."
" It may not be to you, but it is to me. What,
poring over architecture all night, after working
hard at it all day V
"Yes," returned Charles; "because I am thus
enabled to Icam more of the different branches
of our business."
" Well," said Ludlow, with a slight toss of tlie
head, " for my part I learn full as much about
the carpenter's trade at my work as I shall ever
find use for. I don't see the use, after a poor
fellow has been tied up to mortices, grooves,
sills, rafters, sleepers, and such matters, all day
long, to drag away the night in studying the
stuff all over again."
"Ah, Lud," replied Charles Bracket, "you
don't take the right view of the matter. Evci-y
man makes himself honorable in a peculiar busi-
ne.ss, just so far as he understands that business
thoroughly, and a])plies liimself to its perfection.
It is not the calling or trade that makes the man,
but it's the honest enterprise with which that
calling is followed. In looking about for a busi-
ness that should give me a support through life,
1 hit upon and chose the one in which we are
now both engaged, and when I did so, I resolved
that I would make myiiielf uscfid in it. Wc
have something Ijcsidcs mere physical strength
to employ and cultivate: we hiivo a mind that
must labor, and that mind will labor at some-
thing. Now, phyHical labor alpuo Is tedious and
unthankful ; but when wc combine the mental
and physical, and nmkc them assist each otlier,
then wc Hud labor ii source of comfort."
" Really, Charley, ytni arc (juite a philosopher,
and I sup|)ose what you say is true; but then I
should like to know if it don't require some men-
tal hilior to keep up with the instructions of our
boss now ? I declare, it keeps me thinking pretty
sharply."
" That may be," said Charles ; " hut after all,
the only mental labor you perform is memory.
Yon only remember Mr. White's instructions,
and then follow them, and in so doing, you learn
nothing but the mere method of doing the work
you are engaged on. For instance, you know
how long to make the rafters of the house wc are
now building, and you know liow to let them in-
to the plates ; but do you know the pliilosophical
reason for all this '? Do you know why you arc
required to perform your work after given
rules V*
"I know that I am to do it, and that wlien I
am of age, I shall be paid for doing it, and I
know how to do it. That is enough," answered
Ludlow, witii much emphasis.
" It is not enough for me," said Ciuirles.
"Every piece of mechanism has a science in its
composition, and I would be able to comprehend
that science so as to apply it, perhaps, to other
uses. In short, Lud, I would be master of my
business."
"And so would I. I tell you, Charley, I be-
lieve I could frame a house now."
" Such an one as you have been taught to
build, Lud."
" Certainly. EveryI)ody must be taught at
first."
" True ; and everybody may gain im]nove-
ment upon the instructions of others by self-
culture."
" Then you wont go to ride this evening?"
said Ludlow, as they reached their boarding-
house.
"No."
Here the conversation ended. That evening
Ludlow Weston hired a horse and chaise, and
went to ride; while Charles Bracket betook him-
self to his room, and was soon deeply interested
in his History of Architectui'e. Some parts he
would read over several times so as to tliorough-
ly comprehend them, and occasionally he would
take notes, and copy some of the drawings. Be-
fore he retired to his rest, he had finished the
book ; and when lie arose the next morning, the
subject of his study was fresh and vivid in his
mind, and lie felt happy and satisfied with him-
self.
"Ah, Charley, I had a glorious time last
night," said Ludlow Weston, with a heavy yawn,
as the two apprentices met before breakfast.
" So did I," returned Charles.
" At your dry books, eh ?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't envy you. Egad, Charley, the
recollections of last night's ride and supper will
give me enjoyment for a moutli."
" And the recollections of my last night's study
may benefit nic for a lifetime."
" Bah !" said Ludlow. But the very manner
in which he uttered it showed that he did not ex-
actly mean it.
A mouth had passed away, and it was Satur-
day morning.
" Charley," said Ludlow Weston, " we have
not got to work this afternoon. Now, Avhat do
you say to joining the party on the pond ? We
have got the boats engaged, and wc are going to
have a capital time. I'm going to carry Sophia,
and you must take Mary, and go with us."
"I am sorry that I must disappoint you, Lud;
but the old professor at the academy, as he has
no school this afternoon, has promised to give
mc some assistance in my studies in mensuration,
and it would be a disappointment both to him
and myself to miss the opportunity."
" O, bother your mensuration ! Come along.
Mary Waters will tliink you are really mean, for
Sophy Cross will be sure to tell her what a fine
time she had with me."
"No, Mary ivont," returaed Charles. "Af-
ter I have fini.slicd my lesson, I am going to take
a horse and chaise, and carry her out to visit her
sick aunt, whci"C we shall spend the Sabbath.
However, I hope you will have a good time, and
I believe you will, too."
Mary Waters and Sophia Cross were botli of
them good girls, and they really loved the youths,
whose attentions they were respectively receiving.
Charles and Ludlow had aln-aily taikcrl of mar-
riage, and they looked fonvard to that important
event witli much [jromisc of joy, and all wlio
knew them bad reason lo believe that tlu^y would
both make good husbands.
Thus time glided away. Both of the young
men laid up some money, and they were both
steady at their work, but Charles pursued his
studies witli unrcmittingdiligcncc, while Ludlow
could never see any use in a mere carpenter's
bothering bis brain with gcomcti-ical properties,
areas of figures, volumes of solids, mathematical
roots and powers, trigonometry, and a thousand
other things that his companion spent so much
time over.
Two years were soon swallowed ujj in the vor-
tex of time, and Charles and Ludlow were free.
They both were hired by their old master, and
for several months they worked on in the to^vn
where Mr. White resided. Ludlow Weston was
married to Sophia Cross, and they lioarded with
the bride's mother.
" Aint you ever going to get married ?" asked
Ludlow, as he and Cliarles were at work together.
"As soon as I can get a house to put a wife
into," quietly returned Charles.
" Why; you can hire one at any time."
" I know that ; but I wish to own one."
" Tlien poor Mary Waters will have to wait a
long time for a husband, I'm thinking."
"Perhaps so," Charles said, with a smile.
Then Ludlow whistled a tune as he continued
his work.
"Boys," said Mr. White, as he came into his
shop one morning, where Charles and Ludlow
were at work, " we are soon likely to have a job
in S . The new State House is going up as
soon as the committee can procure a suitable
plan, and I shall have an opportunity to contract
for a good share of the carpenter's work."
" Good ! AVe shall have a change of air,"
said Ludlow, in a meny mood.
That evening Charles took his paper from the
post-ofiice, and in it he found an advertisement
calling for an architectural plan for the new
State House. He went home, locked himself up
in his room, and devoted half the night to in-
tense thought and study. The next day he pro-
cured a large sheet of fine drawing paper, and
after supper he again betook himself to his room,
where he drew out his table, spread his paper,
and then taking his ease of mathematical instru-
ments, he set himself about his task. For a
whole week he worked every niglit till twelve or
one o'clock, and at the end of that time, his job
was finished. He rolled his sheet of paper care-
fully up in a substantial wrapper, and having
directed it to the committee, he entrusted it to
the care of the stage-driver, to be delivered at its
destination in the city of S .
Nearly three weeks rolled away, and Charles
began to fear that his labors had been useless.
It was just after dinner. Mr. White and his
men had commenced work, when four gentlemen
entered the shop, whose very appearance at once
bespoke them to be men of the highest standing
in society.
" Is there a Mr. Charles Bracket here ?" asked
one of them.
" That is the man, sir," retumed Mr. White,
pointing to where Charles, in his checked apron
and paper cap, was at work.
The stranger seemed a little surprised as he
turned his eyes upon the youth, and a shade of
doubt dwelt upon his features.
" Is your name Bracket, sir ?" he asked, as he
went np to where the young man stood.
"It is, sir," replied Charles, trembling with
strong excitement.
"Did you draw this plan?" continued the
sti'angcr, opening a roll he held in his hand.
" I did, sir," answered Charles, as he at once
recognized his work.
" Did you originate it?"
"Every part of it, sir."
The stranger eyed the young carpenter with a
wondering look, and so did the gentlemen who
accompanied him. Mr. Wliitc and Ludlow
Weston wondered what it all meant.
"Well, sir," at length said he who held the
plan, "I am pot a little surprised that one like
you should have designed and drawn this ; but,
nevertheless, you are a lucky man. Your plan
has been accepted in every feature, and your re-
commendations have all been adopted."
The effect of this announcement upon Charles
Bracket was like an electric shock. Objects
seemed to swim before bis eyes, and be grasped
the edge of his bench for support.
" Gentlemen," said Mr. White, " I do not un-
derstand tliis. What floes it all mean ?"
"It means, sir, that this young man has de-
signed a complete and perfect nrchiteclural plan
for the new State House, and that it luis been
unanimously adopted by the committee from
among fifty otiicrs which they have received from
different parts of the country."
" Charles," uttered tlie old cari)cntei-, wiping
a pride-ficnt tear from his cheek as he gazed upon
his former apprentice, "when did you do this V
" Three weeks ago, sir."
"And that's what kept you up so late every
night for a wliole week ?"
" Yes, sir."
" There's a powerful genius there, sir," said
the spokesman of the visitors.
"Ay," retumed Mr. White; "and there has
been deep and powerful application there, too.
Charles Bracket has been with me from a boy,
sir, and every moment of bis leisure time has
been devoted to the most intense study."
The gentleman looked kindly, flatteringly upon
the young man, and then turning to Mr. White,
he said :
" He has not only given us the design, but, as
you can see, he has calculated to a nicety the
number of bricks, the surface of stone, the quan-
tity- of lumber, the weight, length, size and fonn
of the required iron, as well as the quantity of
other materials, and the cost of construction. It
is a valuable document."
Ludlow Weston was dumb. He hung down
his head, and thought of the contempt he had
cast upon his companion's studies.
"Mr. Bracket," continued the visitor, "I am
authorized by the State committee to pay you
one thousand dollars for this design, and also to
offer you ten dollars per day so long as the build-
ing is in course of construction, for your services
as superintending architect. The first named
sum I will pay you now, and before I leave, I
would like to have from you an answer to the
committee's proposition."
Before the delegation returned to S ,
Charles had received his thousand dollars cash,
and accepted the offer for superintending the
erection of the State House.
"Ah, Charles," said Ludlow Weston, after
they had finished their supper, " you have indeed
chosen the wisest part. I had no thought that a
eaiijenter could be such a man."
" And why not a carpenter as well as any one ?
It only requires study and application."
" But all men are not like you."
"Because all men don't try. Let a man set
his eyes upon an honorable point, and then fol-
low it steadily, unwaveringly, and he will he
sure to reach it. All men may not occupy the
same spliere, and it would not be well that they
should ; but there are few who may not reach to
a degree of honorable eminence in any trade or
profession, no matter how humble it may be."
" I believe you are right, Charles ; but it is too
late for me to try now. I shall never be any-
thing but a journeyman."
"I will own, Ludlow, that you have wasted
the best part of your life for study ; but there is
yet time and opportunity for retrievement."
Ludlow did try, and he studied, and he im-
proved much, but he was unable to recall the
time he had wasted. He had now a family upon
his care, and as he had to depend altogether upon
his hands for support, he could not work much
with his mind.
Charles Bracket saw tlie building he had
planned entirely finished, and he received the
highest encomiums of praise from the chief offi-
cers of the State. Business flowed in upon him,
and ere many years. Bracket, the architect, was
known throughout the Union. When he led
Mary Waters to the hymeneal altar, he did own
one of the prettiest houses in his native town ;
nor did " poor Mary " have to wait long, either.
There is a deep moral in the foregoing for our
young mechanical readers, and we have no doubt
they have, ere this, discovered it.
[Written for Gleason'e Pictorial.]
O BREATHE OKE WISH TOR 3IE.
Br AIRS. R. T. £I.D.'.£DGE.
I do not ask thee, friend, to think of me,
When mingling with the young, and gay, and fair ;
In fiiHhion'H circles drown thy thoughts in glee,
0 give me not a passing thought while there !
But think of mc, my loved and early friend,
Should thy young heai-t, subdued by grief or care,
E't-r cause tbco, daily, on thy knee to bend,
0 bruiitho a wish for mo in every ijrayer I
Adversity is apt to discover the genius, pros-
perity to conceal it.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
23
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ON LEAVING H.UITFORD.
Old Hartford '. dear and sacred spot,
Home of my fiither's childhood days ;
Scenes which can never be forgot,
Shall form the subject of my lays ;
Hartford I I prize thy ancient name,
0 may'st thou Uve in deathless fiune.
Here, first the light of mortal life
Illumed my parents' mental sky ;
Here, too, hegan with them the strife,
"WTiich ends when in the grave they lie '■,
And here they learned that cares were given,
As guides which lead the soul to heaven.
1 lore thee, Hartford, for thy worth,
And honor thee for years that 's gone ;
No other spot, on this broad earth,
More brightly beams the sun upon.
Thy mansions seem a blest retreat.
Where sage Content has fixed her seat.
0 should the two-edged sword of death
Spare nie to see a ripened age ;
Down to the latest hour of breath.
Thy name my thoughts shall then engage ;
And e'en when dying I will pray,
That thou may'st never meet decay.
Hartford ! farewell I I now depart,
And parting, I on thee bestow
This earnest tribute of my heart,
This fervent blessing, and I go j
On thee, 0 Hartford, rest, increase,
The smiles of hope, of joy, and peace
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE FOUR ACRE LOT.
BV MKS. E. WELLMONT.
*' Nobody to write a letter !" exclaimed Mrs.
Blimi. "I wonder if this is the way all board-
ing-school education turns out. There's my
daughter Sophy, who has been three quarters to
the academy, and here she cannot draft a letter
for me on particular business. If it were not
pextaiuing to family matters, I would carry it to
'Squire Story, or Mrs. Bragg; but they are both
leaky sources, and one hates to have all their
private busiiicss in everybody's mouth. Sophy,
dear," said the mother, " don't you think you
can tell your aunt what I bid you say? It's no
matter if it aint all grammar."
" But, mother, I never did such a thing in my
life, as to write a long letter. To be sure, I
have written short notes to Amy Fry, but they
were nothing."
And the poor girl took up her " French Tele-
machus," and, with the aid of the dictionary,
began to interpret the meaning of the next sen-
tence ; then she had an exercise to \vTite, a his-
tory lesson to commit, a page in rhetoric to re-
peat, and her grammar to review. But all thest
were in the ordinary course — to write a letter
was quite a different affair.
Mrs. Blinn was greatly troubled to get the let-
ter written without giving notoriety to its con-
tents. To be sure, she had a piece of business
which she wished executed without her hus-
band's knowledge ; and as this is always a haz-
ardous business, she was greatly troubled to get
it executed. She thought of the secretary of the
sewing-circle ; but she boarded with the la^vyer's
wife, and ten chances to one, some bird of the
air would carry the news that she was about to
deed away the " four acre lot," which descended
to her by her mother's death. But, then, as it
was her own, and her husband had been bene-
fited by it for years, she saw no reason why she
should not dispose of it and raise some ready
money, which would help her to a heap of use-
ful things, which her ambitious spirit had con-
jured up into essentials. And they had so preyed
on her mind that, having an offer to sell out to
Farmer Eenton at the rate of one hundred dol-
lars per acre, the bargain was all privately con-
cluded, pi"ovided her sister's husband would
make out the deed — and it could be clandestinely
managed until it was too late for lier husband to
help himself. But who ever knew such a scheme
to work well ?
Farmer Renton seemed particularly anxious
to have the affair consummated, and he suggest-
ed to Mrs. Blinn, that his son, the clerk in a
neighboi'ing gi-oceiy, would be at home that
evening, and under pretence of some eiTand, she
could drop in and the whole matter could be
arranged.
Mrs. Blinn, thinking only of the four Imndred
dollars, acceded to the proposal. All the con-
fusion at the farm-house was that evening early
subsided. Mr. Blinn was tired, and soon found
himself in a comfortable sleep in his arm-chair ;
and Miss Sophy was muttering over the conju-
gation of some French verbs which, like drop-
ping rain, rather composed her father the more
on account of its monotony.
Mrs. Blinn was absent short of an hour ; yet
in that space of time, the terms upon which she
agreed to sell out were drawn up and signed by
a rude attempt at writing, which could, however,
be deciphered as Mari/ Blinn. The letter was
forwarded to her sister's husband, who was a
justice of the peace ; and Mrs. BUun that night
dreiimed only of a new Kjdderminster cai-pet,
with a large running vine through the ccnti'e, a
mahogany-framed looking-glass, and some fancy
chairs — all of which would cause the villagers to
stare, as she should have the next sewing-circle
appointed at her liouse. Farmer Renton, in the
meantime, was equally solicitous to obtain the
lot, as he had an assurance that the land would
soon quadruple in value ; as it would become
available for building lots by the manufacturing
company, who had secretly determined on erect-
ing large factories upon the stream, just within
sight of the aforesaid land. So he knew, when
he counted out the hard dollars from the till of
his old blue chest, which had been deposited
more than twenty years ago, lest banks should
fail, and turnpikes become wortliless, and there
should be a famine ; and in such a case, this was
emergencv money, which always made him feel
happier than any extra interest, where he could
not put his hand any moment on the investment.
But judge of the chagrin of both parties, when
the following answer arrived to the letter of yes-
terday. It ran thus :
" Mrs. Blinn is not probably aware that to
make the instrument legal, it is necessary to ob-
tain her husband's signature added to her own.
This is the law in our State ; and although he
cannot convey the same without her sanction,
yet it is equally imperative on her part to do the
same. Yours, etc., ."
There never was a greater drawback to all
well-matured plans. The poor woman's hopes
were so crushed, and Farmer Renton 's schemes
so ten-ibly disappointed ; and yet more than all,
and worse than all, that young man had let out
the secret of his father's expected speculation,
and some gossipping neighbor had rallied Mr.
Blinn upon his want of foresight, which was
strange music to his cars. For the first time
during their conjugal life of more than thirty
years* standing, this was the first breach of con-
fidence that had risen between their mutual in-
terests, and the consequences led to a painful
result.
Mrs. Blinn determined it should be lier last
effort at concealment ; and as the law interposed
between the disastrous effects which might have
followed upon the execution of their plans, it is
to be hoped it did not forever after mar their
domestic confidence ; hut it should be a salutary
lesson to all wives who undertake to manage
clandestinely with any business, supposing there
is no binding obligation between the interests of
man and wife.
Then, too, a thousand little events are thus
exposed, which might never have been made
public. Mi"s. Blinn, upon settling the next
quarter's bill for her daughter, inquu'cd of her
teacher, if his pupils were not taught the epis-
tolary style of writing f This same young lady
was quoted as quite an adept in such matters,
and upon investigation, it was found that all her
compositions were the efforts of a friend, who
was paid for thus helping out a species of decep-
tion which materially affected Sophy's good
scholarship, and in after life would he a source
of deep regret.
But Mrs. Blinn's mortification ended with the
reconciliation of her husband ; and her " four
acre lot " has been disposed of on much more
advantageous terms, and she is in possession of
all the furniture she so coveted, and more than
double the amount is already invested as the
product of her husband's sagacity in knowing
how to drive a good bargain.
THE LESSON OF TRAVEL.
Toleration is the great lesson of travel. As,
in a small way, a man may mortify spiritual
l)ride, by strolling on Sunday in a western city
from church to church, each of which is regarded
by its sect as the ti-ue straight gate, so in a large
way, is he benefited by wintering in Rome and
then shipping at Naples for the east. For thus
he learns the truth emphasized with all magnifi-
cence, that neither upon this mountain, nor yet
at Jemsalem, is the only spot of worship. In
Rome you have seen the pomp of the world's
metropolis suiTounding the Pope. In Damascus,
the meanest beggar in the bazaar would spit upon
the Pope with loatliing. — Eastern Travels.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
FRIENDSHIP.
BY MART K. DEARBORS.
0 is there nought in friendship,
Or is it but a name ;
An ideal of the poet's dream,
A vision of the brain ?
Doth dark deception lurk behind
The sweetest, softest smile ;
Where selfishness, with tyrant's power.
May calculate the while 7
Can faithful friends alone be bought
With fame or tempting gold ;
And change, as wealth or fortune fail.
The warm heart to the cold ?
Alas ! too oft may this be said.
And said with fearful truth ;
For oft have many found it thus,
From infancy to youth !
And is there then no friendship true,
Xo friendship worth the name ;
Is nought of ancient honor left,
Doth nought of truth remain?
1 trust there may, but 'tis a plant
Of tender growth, and rare ;
Transplanted hero from brighter skies,
And needs a purer air.
AN AFFECT10N.\TE SPIRIT.
We sometimes meet with men who seem to
think that any indulgences in afiectionate feeling
is a weakness. They will return from a journey
and greet tlieir families with distant dignity, and
move among their children with the cold and
lofty splendor of an iceberg, surrounded with its
broken fragments. There is hardly a more un-
natural sight on earth than one ot those families
without hearts.
A father had better extinguish his son's eyes
than take away his heart. Wiio that has experi-
enced the joys of friendship, and knows the
worth of affection, would not rather lose all that
is beautiful in nature's scenery, than be robbed
of the hidden treasures of his heart ? Who
would not rather bury his wife than bury his love
for her ? Who would not rather follow his child
to the grave than entomb his parental affection ?
Cherish, then, your heart's best aftections. In-
dulge in the warm and gushing emotions of fiUal,
parental, fraternal love. Tliink it not a iceak-
ness. God is love. — Love everything and every-
body that is lovely. Tea.h your children to
love ; to love the flowers, to love the birds, to
love tlieir parents — to love their God. Let it be
the studied object of your domestic culture to
give them warm hearts and ardent affections.
You cannot make the cords of love too strong;
and be assured that in muturing the principles
of affection, you are nurturing the principles of
virtue. — Vermont Fainily Visitor.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BY THE BROOK.
BV CHARLES HENRY STE^VART.
Purling through the
Babbling o'er the mead.
Now thy pathway crosses .
Flowers blue and red.
Alas : poor brook, thou 'rt weeping 1
Is 't that we must part ?
Thy murmur then is keeping
Voice with my sad heart.
Ah, kind brook, whilst threading
Vales, I 've loved thy tide ;
But now I must be treading
Manhood's path of pride.
Kind brook, may I slumber
By thee when I die ;
May thy dimpling number
Still my requiem sigh.
FELINE SAGACITY.
Instances of canine sagacity almost equalizing
the intelligence of reasoning beings being fre-
quently noticed, the following incident in jjnssy's
history which occuiTcd in this village in the
family of the writer, is no less worthy of record.
A favorite cat, wliich had become strongly at-
tached to its mistress, and daring her confine-
ment to her room by sickness, spent most of its
time with her, manifesting by various cat-like
demonstrations its love for the lady, wished one
day to leave the room, and went to the door,
making the cij^tomary signals of desire to depart
— such as mewing and looking wistfully into the
face of its invalid friend, who quietly remarked
to pussj- that she could not get up to let her out,
upon which the cat deliberately crossed to the
other side of the room and mounting a chair,
seized the bell-rope with its teeth, giving a vigor-
ous human pull, which, as the cat probably reas-
oned, brought the answerer of bells to the door.
Upon its being opened, Madam Puss, who had
returned to her station, walked out. — Lewiston
FaUs, Me., Journal.
To all married men be this caution,
^^Tiich they should duly tender as their life,
Neither to dote too much, nor doubt a wife.
Massinger.
C03IPETENC'E.
There are many who are making haste to be
rich, who need to be reminded that competency
is all that man can enjoy. Beyond the attahi-
mcnt of this "golden mean," every acquisition
becomes mere avarice, by whatever name it may
be gilded. As long as man is in pursuit of the
true medium of enjoyment, so strongly expressed
by Agur in his prayer, he is happy, and happi-
ness is not only a natural concomitant of hLs
eflbrts, but the real blessing of Providence upon
his laudable industiy. But as soon as he steps
beyond this mark, ajid accumulates for the sake
of the accumulation, he loses his peace of mind ;
the light of his quietness is extinguished in anx-
iety, and his happiness is gone forever. Hence-
forward carping care, heart-consuming solicitude,
and fears and terrors without number and with-
out end, embitter his whole existence. He may
succeed in what he undertakes, hut it is at the
expense of all his cheerfulness of heart on earth.
He may reach the goal of his endeavors, but it
is at the expense of every noble feehng, of every
softening emotion. Avarice, the accumulation
of wealth for its own sake, brings with it its own
punislnnent in the drying up of every fount of
human affection within us, in the disruption of
every tie with which the charities of life are
hound, and in the conversion of the heart into a
substance " harder than a millstone." He who
aims at a competence alone experiences none of
these evils. He has sufBcicnt for the wants of
himself and family, whether those wants are real
or fictitious.
With all the income which lies beyond, he can
bless the society in which he lives, be a benefac-
tor to the human race, and obtain a reputation
infinitely beyond what the mere acquisition of
wealth could give. But his own happiness has
been most abundantly secured. His efforts are
blessed in all that quietness of feeling which the
consciousness of a competence bestows ; beyond
this, he cares not. If Providence should" still
smile upon his labors, he knows what use to make
of such occasions of property, and gives not the
subject an anxious thought. — Exchange.
[Written for Glcasou's Pictorial.]
CHILDHOOD.
BY J. CHERRY.
How sweet the hours of childhood.
Just budding into youth ;
Like flowers in the wildwood —
Emblems of love and truth.
Sweet thoughts and pure are with them,
Shedding radiance divine ;
While truth and spotless innocence,
In haloes round them shine.
The sunny hours of childhood.
What sweet reflections rise,
As old associations
Flit past before my eyes.
Fond memory's recalling,
With a sigh, the cherished past ;
While tears are thickly falling,
Afi leaves before the blast.
The playmates of my childhood
Are scattered far and wide ;
But oft remembrance brings them,
In a moment, to my side.
And again the childish prattle
Of our school boy days rings out ;
And the merry laugh and rattle
Of our noise ends in a shout.
But this well remembered vision
Leaves, and wandering thoughts return i
Yet fond memory -s ever cUnging
To the scenes that 's past and gone.
THE FIRST INFANT SCHOOL.
Mr. Wilderspin, the originator of infant schools,
gives an amusing account of his first attempt at
managing a school full of infants. He and his
wife dreaded the day of opening, and they found
it truly dreadful. " When the mothers were
gone, it was arduous work to keep the little
things entertained and beguiled at all. At last,
one child cried aloud ; tn'o or three more caught
up the lamentation, which spread, by infection,
till evei-y infant of the whole crowd "was roaring
as loud as it could roar. After vain attempts to
pacify them, in utter despair about the children,
and hoiTor at the effect upon the whole neigh-
borhood, the worthy couple nished from the
school-room into the next chamber, when the
wife sank in tears upon the bed. Her husband
was no less i\Tetched; this din of woe was mad-
dening : something must be done — but what ?
In the freakishness of despaii", he seized a pole,
and put on the top of it a cap of his wife's, which
was th-ying from the wash-tub. Ho rushed back
into the school-room, waving his new apparatus
of instniction — giving, as he found, his first les-
son on objects. The effect which ensued was
his lesson. In a minute not a child was crying.
All eyes were fixed upon the cap ; all tears stood
still and dried up on all cheeks. The wife now
joined him ; and they kept the children amused,
and the neighbors from stonning the doors, till the
clock stnick twelve. A momentary joy entered
the hearts of the Wilderspins at tJie sound ; but
it died away as they sunk down exhausted, and
asked each other, with faces of dismay, whether
they were to go through this again in the after-
noon, and every day." They soon, however,
reduced the thing to a system, and their task be-
came first endurable, and at length agreeable—
JJome JoumaL
24
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
AMERICAN IIOUSK, ItOSTON.
The American House is one of the
finest architectiinil oninmcnrs of the t-ity,
])rcscuting a beautil'ul front ol' llie Itali;iii
stylo. The main biiikliiiji is 112 leet
front on Hanover street, with two wingH
of six stories, 250 feet deep to Sudbiuy
street, having a piissuge between them of
twenty icct in width, tlie area being dis-
IJO.scd into live ditForent conrts, or open-
ings— thus furnishing light and air abun-
dantly, on all sides ; the wliole covering
27,000 feet of land, ercetcd and iinislicd
at ft cost of about $300,000. It has 340
rooms, and will nccommodate 500 jjcr-
nons. Tlio huUcs' and gentlemen's par-
lors occupy the wliole front on the lirst
floor, npproached by wide halls, -with am-
ple receiving rooms. A balcony extends
along tiie entire front, the entrance to
which is from the oriole windows in the
parlor. It contains suits of splendid
rooms for private families and parties
travelling together. The spacious en-
trance hall or gentleman's exchange on
the street level, extends through the cen-
tre of the building, and measures 160 feet
in length by thirty in width. Besides
five main stairways leading to the upper
floor, there are several other fiights in va-
rious parts of the American House, so
that in the case of fire, or for any other
cause, ample means of egress are pro-
vided. The immense structure has been
built upon a unique plan, combining the
utmost convenience of arrangement with
great elegance and thoroughness of finish,
and the introduction of all the desired
modern improvements, and it is probably
tlie best calculated in all its appointments
for a large busines,s house, of any in the
country. A number of our best artisans,
mechanics and furnishers, have eontri-
huted their skill and taste to this noble
pile, which of itself sufficiently speaks
their praise, as seldom is tbex'C found in a
single building so much of general perfection.
With these few brief remarks relative to this fa-
vorite public house, let us recommend our dis-
tant friends when they visit Boston, to remember
the American House. It is a matter of no slight
imjjortance w^hen a traveller arrives in a strange
city, for him to know "where to tell the hackman,
who takes his baggage, to drive him. His own
mind is relieved, too, of a burthen, in being in-
formed whither he can go and be sure of those
comforts and elegant accommodations that cost
him no more than he would be obliged to pay at
a second-rate hotel. Besides which, one likes to
hail from a good house when one visits a new
city. To persons acquainted with Boston and
our public houses, the American House will re-
quire no compliment from us ; but to our distant
readers, this advice may be of service ; and such,
will perhaps profit by this reference to one of the
very best hotels on the American continent.
AVo propose to give, from time to time, in our
pages, original views of some of our best hotels,
in various parts of the Union, not only fur the
amusement of our readers, but also for their
real benefit.
THE AJMIllUtiN HOUSE. BOSTON
TIIE DANVERS CEKTENNIAL.
On AVedncsday, June 16th, the town of Dan-
vers commemorated the one hundredth anniver-
sary of its incorporation as a town. Our artist,
who was on the spot, has sketched for us a
graphic delineation of the scenes of the day, and
on this and the accompanying page, we give a
view of one of the most curious and grotesque
celebrations on record. From an early hour in
the morning, vehicles of all descriptions were
pouring in from the neighboring towns, crowded
with men, women and children ; and, by the
time the procession began to move, the spacious
avenues of Danvers were lined by a moving nml-
titude of happy pcopk, and the windows of her
dwellings radiant with beaming eyes and smiling
faces — ^presenting a spectacle, of itself worth a
long journey to witness, and such as can be seen
hi so great perfection, in no quarter of the world
but New England. Across the streets in several
]>laces were fiags, streamers and inscriptions ; the
Battle Monument was handsomely ornamented,
and many houses displayed chaste decorations.
The procession, under the direction of Dr. S. A.
Lord, chief marshal, was adminiblj'^ arranged
and exceedingly creditable to the liberality, taste
and ingenuity of the Danvers people. Eirst
came the Salem Mechanic Light Infantry, Capt.
White, numbering fifty-six guns. They made a
very fine appearance, and marched to the in-
spiring music of Smith's ^alem Brass Band.
Next came the Eire Department, a noble body
of men, nearly 400 strong, led off by Bond's
Cornet Band. The engines were profusely dec-
orated, and the gallant firemen formed a very
attractive featui-e in the pageant. Danvers
has, indeed, we think, good reason to be proud
of her efficient fire department. After these
came the civic procession — the officers of tlie
day, invited guests, reverend clergy, committee
of arrangements and town authorities, in ba-
rouches and carriages. Among the ancient wor-
thies was old Master Eppes, in the strange cos-
tume of the day — a character well personated
Ity one of the Putnams. The grave old gentle-
man mightily amused those of this generation,
who thronged around him, by dwelling sagely
on the innovations which have been introduced
while he had been asleep, and wdiich now dis-
closed themselves to his wondering eyes. Kcxt
came the antique procession, wherein iig-
urcd all the old dresses, implements, ve-
hicles and liousehold furniture, that could
he gathered in all the counti-y lound —
and a most interesting Right it ])resented.
The dignitaricH of the last and preceding
centuries appeared rcHtored to life, and
re-enacted the Hcencs in which tliey are
depicted on the page of history. The
humbler classes of that day, loo, had their
re|n'cscntat)VCB, and once more walked
the earth as when alive. Here marched
a stui'dy old bachelor of 1752, in cocked
hat, flowing wjg, scarlet dress coat of the
ancient style, drab breeches, shoe buckles,
etc. Then the Putnam family — a memo-
rable household group — a venerable
chaise, with a lady and gentleman of the
old school — carts containing hand weav-
ers, hand spinners, market women — a ve-
Jiicle which, with its trappings, occupants,
and ring-boned rosinante, seemed to have
Jiad its origin before the flood — a sleigh
of 1752 — a Blind Hole shoe manufactory
of 1789, in full operation — Pottery and
other occupations ; showing the costumes,
employments, etc., of various periods
from 1652. Next followed the fourteen
district schools, led oft' by the Georgetown
Brass Band, and presenting a most beau-
tiful feature in the procession. Prom
twelve to fifteen hundred children, in hol-
iday an-ay, could not fail to call out ex-
clamations of delight from every specta-
tor. Here was represented a trial for
witchcraft — tlic court and its officers in
full blast. The chief justice, Cotton Ma-
ther, Rev. Mr. BuiToughs, and other his-
torical characters, the witnesses, etc., were
enacted to the life. Other scenes and
groups, finely represented, showing the
schools of 1752 and 1852 in contrast, etc.
The pupils of the Pirst District School,
numlK-rJng 160, males and females, were
uniformly clad in Turkish costume.
Then tlici*e were flower girls, Chinese,
Scotch, rural representations, a pony chaise, u
rustic vehicle drawn by twelve oxen, with ban-
ners and inscriptions. Finally came a cavalcade
of nearly 300 horsemen, iinder the marshalship
of Mr. Prancis Dane, and this teiminated the
grand programme of the pageant of a day which
will long be remembered.
One great fcarurc of the day was the superb
display of Mr. Yale's famous mammoth tents.
His mammoth tent was used on the occasion for
the dinner, and was the mh*aele of the occasion.
His large medium tent was improved for the
children to dine under, and sixteen hundred little
souls sat down together under its ample canopy.
Mr. Yale has four medium size tents of this cal-
ibre, wdiich are to let for grand picnics, camp
meetings, celebrations, etc. His largest tent is
capable of covering a space three hundred feet in
length! The dinner on the above occasion was
prepared by Mr. Shennan, of Salem, and gave
general satisfaction. In short, tlie wdiole affair
reflects the greatest credit upon the getters-up of
the celebration, and also upon all concerned in
the matter ; and our pictures of the same cannot,
Ave think, fail to please them.
vale's mammoth tent, as SPREAD AT THE DANVERS CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAWIWCx. HOOM COMPANION.
25
SCENE REPRESENTING THE ilNTIQUE PROCESSION, AT THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, AT D.iNraRS, JLASS.
26
GLEASON'S I'lCTOUlAL DRAWING EOOM COMPANION.
[Written for Olcaeon's Pictorial.]
SHE SLEEPS IN THE CONVENT YARD.
BY F. 0. BYLVANOS HURLBUT.
She hfw t'ono to flleop ! she hiin gone to nlcep !
On hor pillow, cold and Imrd ;
'Neath tlic omngo lilomu,
In hor narrow tomh —
She Bleeps in tho convent yard.
Sho hnn gone to roHt ! she has gone to rest I
The lovely and the fair ;
Whilo the linnets wing
In the spangled spring,
By tlio evening priniroHo there.
And the phitomil and tlie robin eiug,
lu tho eyprcBS overhead ;
Whilo tlie turtles pine
In tho (lowery lime,
O'er the long-forgotten dead.
Sho hnfl gone to i-cst ! she has gone to rest I
On her pillow, cold and hard ;
AMiere tho orange grows,
And the linic tree hlows—
She slccpa in the convent yard.
Sho has gone to sleep 1 she has gone to sleep !
In tho spring-time of her yeara ;
With the molting dyes
Of her gazelle eyes,
Her roses and her tears.
She has gone to rest ! she has gone to rest I
She sleeps by her youthful bard.
Where the turtles pine
In the flowering lime,
In the lonely convent yard.
He fell in his pride on the field of blood,
Was laid on his pillow hard,
"UTien Celia fled
To his mossy bed,
To pine in the convent yard.
She planted flowers, pale flowers around
His laureled dust above ;
And the birds sang sweet,
As she came to weep,
The dewdrops of her love.
But the autumn came, and the winter came,
And the spring was gi-cen and gay.
When they laid her deep,
Where the violets weep.
In the ravislunents of May.
And side by side 'neath the orange bloom,
On their pillows, cold and hard ;
They lowly lie
Where the west winds sigh,
In the gloomy convent yard.
Mild eve may smile in the rosy west,
Through the Eldorado gate,
Where they used to stray,
At the hush of day,
Tor the evening wind to wait.
But their tombs arc there by the flowering lime,
And their beds are cold and hard ;
And they sweetly rest
'Neath the turtle's nest,
In the gloomy convent yard.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE ROYAL FAVORITE.
A TALE OF THE EAKLY HISTOHY OF SPAIN.
BY MISS SARAH M. HOWE.
CHAPTER I.
In a richly-fumi-shcd apartment of his royal
palace, sat tlie king of Spain — a dark cloud rest-
ing npon his liauf;,lity brow. The monarcli's
thoughts were evidently of an unpleasant char-
acter, for liis pale Hps were tightly compressed,
and ever and anon, an oath or angry word es-
caped them, betraying the evil spirit that burned
within liis bosom. His countenance — ever ma-
lignant and repulsive — was now almost demon-
like in its cxprcs.sion ; and his dark eyes glittered
fiercely through the overhanging brows which
shaded them, like the wildly-rolling orbs of a
beast of prey.
His only attendant was a young man of not
more than twenty years of age, and wliosc dress
and liearing bespoke him to be of royal lineage.
His dark, handsome face and fascinating smile
Avould favorably impress the casual observer;
but that impression would he changed, upon a
closer scnitiny, to one of distrust and fear.
There was something in tlie sparkling eyes, as
be turned them full upon the king, that betrayed
a deceitful heart ; and beneath that fascinating
smile lurked an expression that he would fain
liave concealed. Yet his countenance was emi-
nently handsome, and bis shining dark hair,
wliich fell in curls about Ids finely-moulded
KhonbhirH, gave him an appearance of almost
feminine licauty. Such was the young Prince
Alvci-nc, the ncj)hew of tlie Spanisli monarch,
and universally known as "tho royal favorite."
The monarch, at last, raised his head, and fixing
his glittering eyes upon his companion's counte-
nance, spoke in an earnest tone :
" Alvcrnc, was not the princess much excited
when she spoke thus to you ?"
Tlic pleasant smile quickly disappeared from
tlic face of tlie prince, and assuming an air of
sadness, he replied ;
" Sho was calm and cold when first she in-
formed mc that I sliould meet with no favor
from her ; but as I passionately entreated her to
smile once upon me, she became much excited,
and I left lier in anger."
"And sho has forbidden you to agani enter
her presence?"
*' She has, your majesty. She told me I could
never sit upon the tlironc of Spain hy her side
— that she would never wed one so steeped in
infamy and crime as she believed me to be — that
she knew mc to be false to my king and country,
and branded me as a murderer!"
" Did the Princess Veldima speak thus toi/ou?"
" She did, your majesty."
" Bring her before me," commanded the king,
his face flushed with terrible anger. The young
prince left the ajiartment; and, as he crossed the
large hall, he muttered : " The haughty Veldima
shall yet be my bride, and I tlie king of Spain !"
A few moments elapsed, during which the
king paced the room impatiently, liis whole na-
ture aroused. At length the door of tlic apart-
ment again opened, and the prince entered, fol-
lowed by a richly-dressed young lady. The king
stopped, and fixing his eyes full npon her coun-
tenance, exclaimed ;
" Veldima ! hast thou this day refused to wed
thy cousin, the Prince Alverne, and branded him
as a murderer and a traitor ?"
" Father," said tlie noble young princess,
drawing up her form to its utmost heiglit, " if
Prince Alveme ever sits upon the throne of
Spain, it will not be by my placing the cro^^'n
upon his head !"
** Princess Veldima!" cried the angry mon-
arch, " dost thou realize wliat tliou hast spoken V
" I do, father/' answered the proud spirited
daughter. "But three days have passed since I
saw him drive his dagger through the heart of a
fellow-creature, when he thought no eye, save
that of the AU-seeing One, witnessed the deed !"
The prince became pale as marble, and seemed
transfixed to the spot where he stood. But the
king noticed not liis agitation, for his attention
was fixed entirely upon Veldima.
" You shall rue tliese words !" cried he, his
eyes flashing fire. " They are false, as is your
own proud heart! You sliall be immured in
one of our darkest dungeons ; and if then you
will not submit, Prince Alverne shall be king of
Spain, and I will disinherit you forever ! Ho,
guards !" lie cried, raising his voice, " arrest this
woman !"
A file of soldiers entered the apartment, to
perfonn the bidding of the king. But wonder
and surprise were visible upon their features, as
lie pointed to his daughter, who stood near liim,
with a proud smile of courage upon her features.
"The Princess Veldima!" exclaimed one of
the soldiers, " you did not bid us arrest her?"
" Obey me !" thundered the king, with a ges-
ture of i npatience ; " take her prisoner !"
Without a word of resistance, knowing that it
would l>e useless, the noble princess surrendered
lierself to the surprised guards, and was led from
the palace. The royal favorite gazed calmly on
the proceedings, but spoke not a word till the
sounds of their retreating footsteps died away in
the distance, and the king had once more re-
sumed his seat.
CHAI^TER II.
The golden sun had again gilded the glitter-
ing towers of the Spanish metropolis, and gave
promise of a cloudless day. Its cheering rays
fell through the barred dungeon window upon
the fair bead of the beautiful young prisoner, the
royal Princess Veldima. She had fallen into an
uneasy slumber, and heeded not the brigJit beams
that fell upon her countenance, for her thoughts
were far away in the land of dreams.
She was suddenly aroused by the sound of the
removal of the bolts and bars of the door, and
ere she had time to spring to her feet, a man,
closely muffled in a heavy cloak, and masked,
entered the dungeon. The princess gazed at the
figure in surprise. He approached licr, and
bending his head, whispered hastily :
" Lady, I have come to save thee ! Trust mc,
and all sliall vet be well !"
Veldima endeavored to penetrate the dark
mask that covered the strange visitor'H features,
but it was in vain. She was about to speak, but
he prevented her by whispering:
" Speak not above your breath, huly ! ToUow
mc quickly, if you would save your life and
mine ! I have perilled all to rescue thee !"
His low, cai'uest voice and words sent a thrill
to the heart of the young pj-iucess, and I'ising,
sho placed her hand in his, and he led her from
the cold, cheerless cell. Ho then closed the
door, and placing his foot upon a concealed
spring near it, a trap-door sprang open, disclos-
ing a long flight of steps. The heart of the
maiden Iiounded witli hope. They stepped
down, and the masked guide closing the trap-
door by a second sjiring, tlicy were now in almost
Egyptian darkness. But the Pi-incess Veldima
knew not fear; and tightly gntsping the aim of
her protector, she descended the steps. At
length they reached the bottom, and traversing
a long, winding |)assage, arrived at a door,
tlirough the key-hole of which streamed a faint
ray of light. The guide drew from his bosom a
small, strangely-fashioned key, and applying it,
the door sprang open, and the sun-rays fell in
with a brightness that almost blinded the eyes of
Veldima. Nothing was visible from the door,
save the blue water of the river which glided
noiselessly by, and the emerald green hanks on
the opposite aide, covered with beautiful flowers.
The princess looked up inquiringly.
*' You shall soon he free, fair lady," said the
masked guide, as he stooped and took up the
end of a coil of ro])e, which was there fastened.
He soon drew a boat in front of the secret door,
which opened on the very verge of the water,
and assisting the princess into it, sprang in him-
self, but not without throwing the cloak he had
woni, over the shoulders of the maiden, thereby
entu'cly concealing her person. He then re-
locked the door, and taking up an oar which lay
in the bottom of the boat, propelled the light
skifl' swiftly down the river.
On it sped, past the gay and stirring city, al-
most unnoticed, even by the numerous boats that
passed them. The dark cloak entirely concealed
the face and form of the Princess Veldima, and
the mask prevented any recognition of the fea-
tures of her companion, by those who might
have known him. At length the boat stopped
in a small unfrequented cove far down the river,
and the masked guide, turning to tlie rescued
lady, said :
" You are free, fair Princess Veldima, and
need no longer apprehend danger from the king,
or tlie Prince Alverne."
She raised her eyes with a look of joy and
gratitude, and a sweet smile wreathed her curved
lips.
" I cannot thank you sufficiently, noble stran-
ger," she said, taking from lier finger a diamond
ring of great value, and extending it towards her
rescuer. " Take this," she continued, " as a
slight proof of my gratitude for this noble action ."
The stranger placed the ring in his bosom,
and after a few more words, again moved swifdy
down the river, leaving the princess standing
alone upon the bank. She watched the receding
boat for a few moments, then turned and walked
slowly from the spot. Whither to turn her
steps, she scarcely knew ; she dared not return
to the palace, and though a royal princess, she
felt it to be tnie that she was an escaped prisoner.
A light footstep behind her broke her reverie,
and she turned to ascertain wlio was following.
But her cheek paled quickly, and she uttered a
cry of surprise ; for tliere before her, with a smile
of conscious power upon his countenance, stood
her dreaded cousin. Prince Alverne, "Me rojial
favorite.''
Por several moments both were silent. The
princess stood transfixed to the spot where she
had first beheld Prince Alverne, her countenance
pale as marble, and expressive of surprise and
fear. The prince gazed upon the astonished
lady, with a smile of conscious power npon his
handsome lips, and his dark eyes glittering with
pleasure.
" We have met once more, fair lady," at
length spoke the royal favorite, " and when you
little thought of such a meeting."
" I confess it. Prince Alverne," answered Vel-
dima, fixing her dark oycs upon the face of her
cousin ; " but was it not your plan to surprise me,
and again drag me before the king'?"
" I knew not that you had escaped, fair prin-
cess, until I saw you leave the boat but a few
moments since. This meeting has surprised me,
if possible, as much as it has yourself."
" And now tliat I am once more in your
power, do you intend to bring mo again before
my royal father?" asked tho princess, with a
slight touch of irony in her tone,
"Fair Princess Veldima," said the prince
sinking gracefully on one knee before her, and
assuming an attitude of the deepest devotion, " 1
take no advantage of my power, hut to declare
again my burning passion fur thee. Lady, I
have long loved tbcc. Thou hast bcorned me,
and refused to hear mc. But I Inivc not forgot-
ten tboo, and once more I lay my heart at thy
feet. Do not scorn me, lady !"
" Thy words are fruitless, Prince Alveme,
Speak not of this subject again, for thou hast my
final answer, and I cannot retract my vow."
" Lady, hear mc for a moment. Your father,
the king, immured you in a cheerless dungeon
for disobedience to his wishes in this matlcr.
He has sworn that if you do not wed me, you
shall remain there until your proud spirit is en-
tirely crushed. In some maimer, but I kno'w
not how, you have this day escaped. But even
your life is now in peril, tbougJi all the kingdom
knows that you are the rightful heir of the throne
of Spain. Your father has sworn that I shall
be king of Spain, even if I receive not tljc crown
from your hand. But this is impossible ; for the
whole kingdom will rise against me, when I as-
cend the throne, and claim their rightful sov-
ereign, the Princess Veldima. The king's oath
must be fulfilled. Be my bride, sweet princess,
and all will yet be well. Thy father will again
receive thee to his arms — ^my happiness will be
complete — and thou yet be queen of Spain !"
"I scorn thee!" cried the spirited princess,
drawing her proud form to its utmost height,
while her dark eyes flashed with an angry fire.
" I scorn thee and thy ambition ! I know that
thou hast murdered thy fellow-man ! I know
that thou liast perjured thyself to the king ! I
know the iniquity of thy heart ! Think you I
would give my hand and throne to one so steep-
ed in guilt and crime ? Again, I repeat, I scorn
thee !"
The Prince Alveme sprang to his feet, and
gazed fi.xedly in the flashing eyes of the noble
young Princess Veldima. She met his gaze
witli a look of such proud, fearless scora, that
his eye fell before it. The next instant he
sprang to her side, and drawing a glittering dag-
ger from his bosom, pointed it to the heart of
the noble princess.
" Princess Veldima !" cried the royal favorite,
his eyes flashing fire, " swear tome that you will
place upon my head the ero\vn of Spain, or your
death shall be added to the murders that aU'eady
hang upon my soul !"
" Would you bury your dagger in the heart of
your rightful sovereign?" fearlessly asked the
princess.
"Iwoidd buiy it in the heart of every sov-
ereign in Eiu'ope, if by the act I could but pos-
sess their thrones !" madly cried the prince,
mo^^ng the dagger nearer to the heart of the
princess.
She shuddered at his words and manner, yet
her self-possession did not desert her at this mosj
fearful moment of her life. She felt the need of
calmness and courage, for she knew the prince
rarely spoke in i^ain.
"Swear to me that I shall yet be a king!"
cried the prince, fiercely ; " I give you but a
short time to decide your course — to live my
bride and queen of Spain, or die now by my own
hand !"
The princess raised her eyes to heaven, for an
instant, in prayer. Then fixing them upon the
passion-stamped countenance of the prince, she
said, in a voice of thrilling impressiveness :
" Thou shalt never wear my cro\vn, or sit
xipon my throne !"
" Then thy death shall be npon my soul I"
fiercely muttered the prince. But a hand was
laid firmly upon the arm which grasj^ed the dag-
ger, and a clear, commanding voice exclaimed :
" Harm her not, as thou vainest thine oivn
Ufe !"
Prince Alveme started quickly, and dropped
the dagger. He turned and beheld the masked
stranger, who had that morning rescued the
princess from the dungeon. Veldima clasped
her hands and sprang forward.
"Who art thou?" faltered the prince, with a
vain attempt at calmness, though his tongue was
nearly paralyzed with fear. The stranger deigned
no reply, but still grasped the arm that would
liave murdered the rightful heiress of the Span-
ish throne.
" AVho art thou, that dai-es speak thus to the
king's favorite?" said the prince, endeavoring
to shake oif the fear that bad taken possession
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPATs^ION.
27
of his house. The stranger slowly raised the
mask from his face, as he looseued his grasp of
the prince's arm. Suddenly, the countenance of
Frince Alverne became livid with fear and hor-
ror ; he sprang backward, and gazed wildly on
the stranger's face, revealed by the removal of
the mask, then muttering : " the dead have risen
to foil me !" foil insensible to the ground.
CHAPTER III.
The last rays of the setting sun were just
faintly brightening the hills of Spain, and bid-
ding farewell to the beautiful earth ere they left
it in silent darkness. Moving slowly up a rug-
ged path that led up the side of one of the snow-
cro^vncd mountains of Castile, were two figures,
each -wi-apped in a dark, ample cloak, and
mounted upon a much-wearied horse. As occa-
sionally a ray of sunlight gleamed upon the fea-
tures of the youngest rider, it showed that they
were those of our fair young heroine, the royal
princess Veldima, and her companion was no
otlier than the noble stranger, who had saved
her from death by the hand of the royal favorite.
For an hour more the wearied horses toiled up
the rugged mountain path, until the last dying
ray of the setting sun had faded from the far
distant hills. At length the guide halted before
a huge unshapely rock, which seemed to guard
the entrance to one of those mountain-caves
which are known only in the rocky, towering
mountains of Castile.
"We have at length reached our destination,
fair princess," said the guide, as they dismounted
and entered the cavern. All was now dark as
the regions of Erebus, and silent as the grave.
Princess Veldima could not repress a shudder,
as she listened to the unearthly sound of her
own footsteps, as she followed her conductor
thi-ough the dark passage that led to the main
portion of the cavern. Suddenly the guide
stopped, and in a voice that rang through the
cave like a clarion, he shouted :
" Ho, my followers ! Give entrance to your
leader \"
In another moment the soimds of bolts and
bars were heard being removed, and a large
stone door was slowly opened, disclosing to the
astonished eyes of the princess such a scene as
had never befoi'e blessed her vision. Though
she had been an inmate of a palace, still she had
never viewed such a scene of splendor as she
now gazed upon. She stood before the entrance
to a hall of immense size, the whole length of
which was a table covered with the choicest
fruits and wines of every land, in baskets and
cups of massive gold, which reflected back the
rays of a hundred brilliant lights with glittering
splendor. The stone walls were concealed by a
rich drapery of crimson velvet, that hung in
heavy folds to the floor, which wag covered with
a carpet richer than any the surprised princess
had ever seen in the royal halls of her father's
palace. Tliere were nearly two hundred men in
this almost fairy palace, and each sprang forward
to welcome their leader as he entered, mechani-
cally followed by the princess. The stone door
was again closed and barred upon the inner side,
and the men stood silent, awaiting the commands
of tlieir leader, and gazing with curiosity upon
the face of his companion.
"Eair Princess Veldima," said her stranger
friend, taking her hand and leading her forward,
" these are my friends and followers, and there
is not one of us that would not lay down his life
to place you upon the throne of your ancestors.
My follcnvers, this is your princess ; and I doubt
not each one of you will swear to protect her
with your lives, if need be."
The next instant a ringing shout awoke every
sleeping echo of the vast cave, as it went up
from every heart in that immense hall, " Long
live the Piincess Veldima !"
" My noble followers," said their leader, his
nandsome face lighting up with pleasure, "your
fau- princess cannot doubt your loyalty to her
cause, or your willingness to place her upon the
throne of her royal ancestors. Her father, the
present king of Spain, has sworn that his favor-
ite, the Prince Alvenie, shall yet wear the crown.
To gain this end, lie has detennined that his
noble daughter shall wed the prince, and then
his royal favorite will be king of Spain, as the
husband of its queen. The heart of the princess
shi-inks from such an imion, for she loves not
the Prince Alverne. The throne of Spain is her
rightful heritage, as the last descendant of its
ancient kings. Will you strike for your princess
and her crown, and place lier upon the throne,
sole sovereign of Spain V
Again the vast cave rang with the shouts of
the noble hand: "Long live Queen Veldima,
sole sovereign of Spain !"
The sun had thrice risen and set over the
proud Spanish meti-opolis, since the royal Prin-
cess Veldima had disappeared from the palace.
It had become generally known that she had
been cast into one of the darkest dungeons of the
city, by order of the king ; and the populace had
become aroused and incensed at this act of in-
dignity to their future queen, and there was
scarce a man but burned to revenge it. No one
knew whither she had gone ; and the uncertainty
of her fate added fuel to the flame already
kindled.
The last rays of the setthig sun gleamed in at
the drapcried window, where sat the king of
Spain, his mind entirely absorbed by the thoughts
that were passing within his bosom. His brow
was clouded with a dark shade of care, for he
already suspected the spirit that was rising
against him in the city, and freely would he
have forgiven his daughter, if his forgiveness
could but have brought her back to his palace
halls once more. He heeded not the unusual
stirring of the people — he heeded not their
strange movements, and saw not the dark band
of men, clad from head to foot in glittering steel,
which, at that moment, wound around the base
of the mountain and entered the city. He not
even suspected the imminent danger that was
hanging over him, until upon the evening air
was borne to his ears a thrilling, startling, deep-
toned cry:
" Do^\-n with the tyrant and usurper ! Long
live Queen Veldima!"
The tvrant king knew that that ci*y was his
death-knell ; but it was too late to think of flight.
The whole city was in a wild uproar. Every
man of the excited populace echoed that fearful
ciT, and grasping his weapons, dealt death and
destruction to the soldiers of the king, who
fought with a courage worthy of a better cause.
Never had the Spanish city been the scene of
such a terrific warfare. Several of the stately
mansions had been set on fire, and the red flames
gleamed up into the evening sky, and liglited up
the whole city with a fearful brilliance. Dark
forms moved to and fro, and glittering swords
were raised, and descended with a deadly, un-
erring aim. The watchword : " Down with the
tyrant !" rang clear and shrill above every other
cry, for it was repeated from a thousand tongues.
The whole army of the king was now en-
gaged in the battle. Though tlie populace fought
desperately, yet they at length began to give
ground. The wild shout was repeated with less
thrilling energy, and it at length became evident
that the soldiers must conquer. At this crisis
the king appeared upon a balcony of the royal
palace, robed in his full regal costume, with the
crown glittering upon his brow, and in a voice
of firm command, shouted to his followers :
" Strike for your king ! Death to all who — "
" Tyrant, usui-jjer, murderer ! I have thee
now !" cried a voice that made the blood of the
guilty king fall coldly back upon his heart, as he
turned to confront the speaker. But the next
instant he gave a wild shriek of horror, and fell
back upon the pavement, a lifeless corpse ! The
stranger caught up the royal crown and sceptre,
and disappeared for a moment within the palace,
then again sprang forward to the conflict of life
and deatli.
The death of the king seemed to inspire the
almost despairing people with a new energy, and
to have upon Ills soldiers a contrary influence.
Ere another hour had passed, the victorious pop-
ulace were masters of the city, and the soldiery
completely routed. But wliere was the Princess
Veldima ?
A tali, noble form sprang up the steps leading
to the royal palace, and, facing the excited mul-
titude, requested for a moment their attention,
" Friends and countrymen," spoke the stran-
ger, in a voice that commanded the attention of
all; "but few of you have been aware before to-
night, that the king that has so long ruled your
countiy was not the rightful heir of the throne of
Spain, but a wicked usurper. At the death of
King Conrad II, it was known to but few that
he left a daughter, then but two years of age —
for the somewhat eccentric king cliose to keep it
a secret. The throne was thus left without a
successor. A cunning and ambitious nobleman,
knowing this, successfully personated the long-
lost brother of King Conrad, and, by forged cer-
tificates of his identity, at length reached the
height of his ambition, the tlirone of Spain.
All who knew that the late king left a su" essor
to his crown, were secretly poisoned, save one.
That one was an old man, who escaped to the
mountains, with his only son, and for several
years lived concealed in one of the mountain
caves of Castile, rarely visiting the city, and
then in disguise. That old man, who was my
father, compelled me to swear that I would yet
place the Princess Veldima, the only daughter
of Iving Conrad, upon the throne of her ances-
tors. In the meanwhile, the usui-per, who proved
himself a t}Tant, seeing the budding beauty of
the princess, and knowing that her noble quali-
ties would make her a favorite among the people,
adopted lier, and she was known as his daughter.
Desiring that his family should yet wear the
crown, he planned a union between his nephew
and the priiieessj whereby the guilty Prince Al-
verne would be king of Spain. The noble prin-
cess firmly refused, and the incensed king caused
her to be immured in a common dungeon, from
which, three days since, I rescued her. Again
her life was menaced by the Prince Alvenie,
when, to ensure her safety, I took her to my
mountain cave, Avhere my followers, who have
made themselves so famous on land and sea by
their fearless daring, welcomed their princess
with enthusiasm and joy. This night we have
conquered the usurper's soldiery — he and his
guilty nephew have gone to their last account,
and the Princess Veldima is now your queen !"
At this moment one of the palace doors open-
ed, and a light form stepped out upon the bal-
cony, and stood by the side of the speaker. It
was the princess ; but she now wore the splendid
robe of a Spanish queen, and upon her regal
brow glittered the royal diadem of Spain. The
next instant a shout went up from the assembled
multitude, that echoed from the far-off' hills :
"Long live Veldima, true queen and sovereign
of Spain !"
The princess placed her hand in that of the
one who stood beside her, and placed upon his
brow her crown. Again a ringing shout went
up from the assembled people : " Long live Or-
land, king of Spain I"
They had spoken rightly. It was indeed the
daring Orland, whose feats of brai'ery had
sounded over land and sea. The princess had
now given her lieart with her hand and throne,
and well worthy of them was her noble husband.
The royal favorite had lost his life in the conflict
of that fearful evening, and the princess feared
no more his crime-stained hand. Thus, though
life may be beset with soitow, still, in the end,
happiness will be the jjortion of the vhtuous and
noble.
pfVritten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SU3IMER EVE.
Br L. M. BROWN.
[^yritten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO THE ESTRANGED.
BY OWEN G. WARREN.
In the glad sunshine of thy lovely spirit
I basked awhile, and was supremely blest ;
And with a longing sympathy drew near it,
As to a shrine of everiasting rest.
A cloud has come between us now, and never
Canst thou to me thy joyous Hght impart ;
Our souls are sundered — I shall see thee ever
Only as thou art pictured on my heart.
But on my bosom's golden throne I 've set thee,
A star-cro\vned angel, ever in my sight ;
And could not hate thee — could not now forget thee,
However changed, however veiled in night-
I have been blest — that joy shall be eternal,
And from death's portal bear my soul sublime ;
For neither powers of earth, noi- fates supernal,
Shall snatch the memory of that happy time.
CURIOUS, BUT NOT AGREEABLE.
I have no sympathy for machinery ; tlie action
of machines of great power teirifles me by its
impassibility. There are some, above all, em-
ployed for beating out metals, which do so to an
alarming extent. AVhatever tliese may happen
to seize between their iron teeth, once seized, the
thing must pass through a hole more or less
great, towards which all fabrieahle substances
are conducted. Of whatever size the thing may
be goes in — let it be a beam of the greatest thick-
ness— it will come out stretched into a knitting
needle of the greatest fineness. As for the ma-
chine, it merely turns, and it matters not to it
what the substance may be which it lias to crush
and draw out. You oft^er it an iron — the mon-
ster draws it to itself and devours it. You don't
take your hand back quickly enough, the macliine
pinches the end of your linger, and all is over.
You may cry out, but if there be no one present
with a hatchet to cut your wrist off, after the
finger comes tlie hand, after the hand the arm,
after the arm the head, after the head the body.
Nothing will avail you ; the shortest plan for
your friends is to look out for you on the other
side of the machine. You went in a man, you
come out a wire ; in five minutes you liave gi^own
two hundred feet ; it is curious, but not agreeable.
— Pictures of Travels in the South of France.
Who loveth not a summer eve,
An eve in the month of June ;
MTien fragrance fills the western breeze,
And sweet is the wood bird's tune?
When gently waves tlie verdant robe
That -s o'er the pine trees thrown ;
While the lovely rose so meekly bends
To the wind from the ocean blown.
Then the silver dews the flowers sip,
And fling their breath on the air ;
While fairies seem to girt them round,
From the regions of the fair.
The moon shines with a tender glow,
Plooding the green vale bright ;
And the boughs of the wide old wood
Dance gaily in her hght.
Now bright Arcturus's steady glow
Joins with her silver beam ;
"Which rests upon the snow-white sail.
That glides adown the stream.
Erom the forest comes a low, sweet tone,
Like the plaintive note of bird ;
Which mingled with the waters' rush,
Is all the sound that 's heard.
Then who loveth not a summer eve,
An eve in the month of June ;
When fragrance fills the western breeze,
And sweet is the wood bird's tune.
HONORING PARENTS.
As a stranger went into the church-yard of a
pretty village, he beheld tliree children at a
newly made grave. A boy about ten years of
age was busily engaged in placing plats of turf
about it, while a girl, who appeared a year or
two younger, held in lier apron a few roots of
wdd flowers. The third child, still younger,
was sitting on the grass, watching with thought-
ful look at the movements of the other two.
They wore pieces of crape on their straw hats,
and a few other signs of the mourning, such as
are sometimes worn by the poor who struggle
between theh poverty and their afflictions.
The girl began by planting some of her wild
flowers around the head of tlie grave, when the
stranger thus addressed them :
" Whose grave is this, children, about which
you are so busily engaged V
" Mother's grave, sir," said the boy.
" And did your father send you to place these
flowers around your mother's grave V
" No, sir, father lies here too, and little Willie
and sister Jane."
" "Wlien did they die 1"
" Mother was buried a fortnight yesterday, sir,
but father died last winter — they all lie here."
" Then who told you to do this '?"
" Nobody, sir," replied the girl.
" Then why do you do it ?"
They appeared at a loss for an answer ; but
the stranger looked so kindly at them that at
length tlie eldest replied, as tlie tears started to
his eyes :
" 0, we do love them, sir."
" Then you put these grass turfs and wild
flowers where your parents are laid, because 3'ou
love them ?"
" Yes sh"," they all eagerly replied.
What can be more beautiful than sucli nn ex-
hibition of children honoring deceased jjareuts ?
Never forget tlie dear parents who loved and
cherished you in your infant days. Ever re-
member their parental kindness. Honor their
memory by doing those things which you know
would please them when alive, by a particular
regard to their dying commands, and eanying
on their plans of usefulness. Arc your parents
spared to you 1 Ever treat them as you will
wish you had done, wlien you stand a lonely or-
phan at their graves. How will a remembrance
of kind, afi'ectionate conduct towards these de-
parted friends, then help to soothe your grief and
heal your wounded heart. — Delaware Gazette.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
HOPE ON— HOPE EVER.
BY CAROUNB A. HAYDEN.
Did not the future grow brighter each day,
And hope lend its sunbeams to lighten the way ;
Vain as the thoughts of the dreamer would be,
In its high aspirations our destiny.
Earth's highest wrought visions were worthless, if fear
Shadowed over the hopes they held out to us liere.
"nTiat is thy destiny? seest thou afar,
In the distance, a bright and beaming star,
Leading thee on thi-ough the tj^il and strife,
Shedding its peace on the turmoil of life ;
0 follow it truthfully I life can impart
Nothing sweeter than hope to the trusting heart.
Riches, without meekness and thankfulness,
do not make any man happy; but riches with
them remove many fears and cares. Therefore
my advice is, that you endeavor to be honestly
rich or contentedly poor; but be sure that your
riches he justh' got, or you spoil all. For it is
said : " He that loses his conscience has nothing
left tliat is worth keeping." — Izaak Walton.
28
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROGM COMPANION.
THE FINDING OF MOSES.
Upon this paffc our nrtist has given its unothcr
fine sketch from Bitilc history, of one of those
strikin<i; scenes which have hcen the tlienic of
admiring wonder for ages. The devout Chris-
tian has rejoiced to note the remai-kahlo sueecs-
Kion of providences which trace tiieir origin to
this starting-point, and the mere student of his-
tory, viewing the subject only philosophically,
has regarded the connecting links of tlic chain
of events as at least of a singuhirly fortuitous
character. If it be the province of art to perpe-
tuate scenes and incidents i-emarkablc in them-
selves, ana important in their consequences, it is
difficult to name an event more worthy to be
S reserved, than this subject of ** The Pinding of
loses." While our attention is drawn to it, wo
can but wonder and admire the ways of provi-
dence, in saving from destruction an infant, who,
in Ills manhood, was to act a part so extraordi-
nary, and whoso influence was to be felt through
all suicrcdiit;; iigcs. A brief review of the cir-
cumstances \\ liicli led to the scene the artist has
brought so pleasingly before us, may not be im-
pertinent. According to Josephus, tliorc existed
among the Egyptians a prophecy, that a Hclu'cw
child should one day diminish the power and
and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put
the child therein ; and she laid it in the flags hy
the river's brink. And his sister stood afar oil',
to wit what would be done to him. And (lie
daughter of Pharaoli came down to wash her-
self at the river; and her maidens walked along
by the river's side ; and when she saw the ark
among the flags, she sent her maid to fetch it.
And when she had opened it, slie saw the child :
and, behold, the babe wept. And she bad com-
Iiassion on him, and said, This is one of the
lebrcws' cliildrcn. Then said his sister to Pha-
raoh's daughter, Shall I go and call to thee a
nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse
the child for thee? And Pharaoh's daughter
said to her. Go. And the maid went and called
the child's mother. And Pharaoh's daughter
said unto Iicr, Take this child away, and nurse it
for me, and I will give thee thy wages. And the
woman took the child, and nursed it. And tlie
child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh's
daughter, and he became her son. And slic
called his name Moses : and she said. Because I
drew him out of the water." The happy discov-
ery and contrivance which restored the babe to
tlie bosom of his fond mother, put him in safety,
and caused him to grow up to receive the com-
what .Tosephus and Philo relate, " that no one
could sec Moses without being stniek with hi.-*
beauty," and that " at his birth he had a more
clegnnt and beautiful appearance than a common
child."
THE MAY M ITU SOME PEOPLE.
Deacon S once employed a col)Ider to
tukc a few stitches in a hoot, for wliich service he
was asked half a dollar. The demand was con-
sidered exorbitant, but the deacon was not a man
to have trouble with his neighbor on a trifling
mutter, so without a word of objection it was
cancelled. — "All will come round right in the
end," he said to himself,
Next morning, the deacon, who was a farmer,
was on his way to his field with oxen and plough,
when the cobbler came out of his shop and ac-
costed him.
"Good morning, deacon. You're just the
man I hoped to sec. The case is, I've hired the
field yonder, and am going to sow it with wheat;
hut being no farmer myself, I wish you would
stop and give me something of an insight into
the business."
The other was about excuse himself, for he
The deacon nuide no reply, but stood await-
ing the question, " JIow much do you ask for
your labor?" He waited in vain, however; the
question was not asked. The other began to
speak on different topics, and the farmer, un-
willing to lose more time, turned and hurried
away to where he had left his team, lie had
gone some distance along the road, when a voice
was heard calling :
" Halloo, deacon. Hold on there a minute."
The deacon turned his head, and his neighbor,
the col)bler, beckoned him back.
"He's just thought of it," said the deacon to
himself, half impatient at being again stopped.
" My triumph is likely to co.st about as much as
it's worth ; hut I'll have it after all. Urge as ho
may, I wont take a single dime."
So saying, he secured his oxen to a post by
the roadside, and ran hack as far as the wall,
against the opposite side of which tlic cobbler
was carelessly leaning.
" Why, how you puff, deacon ! there's no spe-
cial haste called for. I merely thought to ask
wliethcr you don't imagine we shall have rain
soon. You farmers pay more attention to these
things than we mechanics do."
The deacon coughed a full minute, and then
grandeur of Kgypt. The Israelites established
there had multiplied so fust that they began to
appear formidable to the reigning king, and Pha-
raoh, in consequence, deemed it important to Ids
security to prevent the farther increase of their
numbers; and, with that object in view, he or-
dered the midwives who miglit be in attendance
on Hebrew women to kill every male child, and
the parents, in some cases, to murder their sons.
It was after this that the wife of a man of the
house of Levi, having given birth to a boy, and,
with the natural feelings of a mother, admiring
the goodly appearance of her offspring, was anx-
ious to avert from him the cruel doom which had
awaited his coming into existence. She, in con-
sequence, concealed him for three months; but,
at length, for her own safety, was obliged to re-
move lum from her dwelling, when she placed
him in a small ark by the side of the Nile. The
Himply beautiful narrative given in the secoud
chapter of Exodus, thus tells what occun'cd :
"And there went a man of the house of Levi,
and took to wife a daughter of Levi. And the
woman conceived, and bare a son : and when
she sasv that he was a goodly child, she hid
him three months. When she could no longer
bide him, she t«ok for him au ark of bulrushes,
mauds of Ills God, to lead his brethren out of
captivity, and, by his wisdom, to control refrac-
tory and idolatrous spirits, which seemed impa-
tiently to seek their own perdition. How im-
mensely important, then, was the incident here
pictured ! It was not merely that a race of hu-
man beings might be released from intolerable
bondage; but that millions then unborn, and
lands then unknown, should prolitfrom the find-
ing of the servant of God. To this day, in all
civilized lands, both man and bea^^t rejoice in tlie
interesting e\ent, while they rest from tlieir labor
on the seventh day. Had Moses not been favor-
ed by the Most High, had he not been the great
captain he was, as the founder of the sabbatic
institution (even if we suppose it a mere inven-
tion of his own), he would have deserved ever-
lasting gratitude, as a benefactor tu the world at
large. The beauty and eondcsiciidiiig benevo-
lence of the princess are strongly marked l)y the
artist. Our artist has been very Imppy in his
faces. All exhibit eager interest and feminine
compassion, yet there is no sameness. We see
the anxious sister ready to spring to the side of
tlie princess, in the cause of an infant brother,
and the whole spectacle is most gratifying. The
countenance of the child is in accordance with
felt particularly anxious to finish a piece ot
l>loughing that day, which he could not if de-
tained at all, when remembering the boot mend-
ing, thought he ; " The affair is coming right so
soon. Here is an opportunity for illustrating
the Golden Kule, and returning good for evil.
I will render the assistance he needs, and when
asked what's to pay, will answer : ' Nothing, sir,
nothing. I never make account of these little
neighborly kindnesses.' That will remind him
of yesterday."
So the deacon readily consented to do as re-
quested ; and going over to the field, commenced
and finished sowing a bushel of grain ; scarcely
thinking, meantime, of how his team was stand-
ing idle in the cool of the day ; but glorying in
anticipation of the smart his neighbor would
suffer from the living coals about to be heaped
upon his head. The employer, wlio, seated on
a pile of stones in the centre of the field, had
watched the process in silence, now rose to his
feet, and very deliberately advanced towards the
obliging farmer.
" Now, for my revenge," thought the latter,
seeing him about to speak ; but the other only
carelessly remarked : " It isn't much to do a
thing when one knows how."
answered that he really "couldn't say, but it
seemed pretty near cool enough for snow." And
having given this opinion, he once more set his
face farmward ; musing as he went, whether it
might not have been well to have attached to the
Golden Rule a modifying claiise, suited to deal-
ing with such people as his neighbor of the awl
and last.
The deacon loves, to this day, to tell the story,
and laugh over it; but he never fails to add;
" Well, well, it ended just as it should ; inasmuch
as I was wickedly calcidating and rejoicing over
mi/ neitjhbor's kvmiliation ." — Western journal.
PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITY.
The responsibility of educating your children
is one you cannot csciq)c. It is a task imposed
on you by Di\ iin' Piovidence, and you may look
witii contidcmc I'ur guidimce and aid. In short,
you must educate your child, whether you choose
It or not, for every action, every word and look,
the very tone of your voice, and the round of or-
dinaiy daily events, which form the moral at-
mosphere in which he breathes, will influence
him far more than the occasional lessons which
he receives, ho\vcver excellent. — Rcjlector.
GLEASON'S PICJTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
29
TREDEEICK GLEASON, Pkoprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTENTS OF OUR IVEXT AUMKER,
" Annie Sehvyn, or the Lost Ring," a story, by H.\rriet
N- IlATn.VWAT.
" Mr. Bumble's Family, or Arriving at a Fortune," a
story, by Geo. Canning Hill.
"A Sketch from Life," by Mrs. E. Wellmont.
" The Haunted Man," a story, by Stlv.vncs Cobb, Jr.
"To a Friend on her Birthday," lines, by Caroline A.
Hai-den.
•'A Leaf from the Heart," vcifscs, by W. T. Hilsee.
" Bu'ds," Unes, by J. H. Butler.
'■ The Withered Oak,'" a poem, by John D. Johnson.
" Ella," verses, by Henry J. Kilmer.
"The Poet's Dream," line.';, by Mary N. Dearborn.
" Castle Building," verses, by John Rdssel.
ILLFSTEATIONS.
We shall give a capital picture, faithfully drawn by our
arti:jt, Mr. C.'iapin, representing Donelti's Wonderful exhi-
bition, at the Astor Place Opera House, New York, of his
trained Monkeys. Dogs, and Goats. A curiou.<) scene.
A series of ^iews of Niagara Falls, of gi-cat beauty and
accuracy, will also be given, embracing, first, a view of
Niagara River, ttiken from Iris Island — one of the best
scenes the spot affords ; second, the Little llapids ; third,
the Niagara River, and American Falls, near Hog's Back;
fourth, the American Falls, from the Canada shore ; fifth,
the Falls at sunset, from the American shore; and last.
Table llock. A most valuable and interesting series.
Also a very admirable original series of views of the
United States Mint, at Philadelphia, by our artist, Mr.
DcvereaiiTy embracing, first, an exterior view of the Mint ;
second, interior of the Adjusting Room ; third, interior of
the Pressing and Milling Room ; fourth, interior of the
general Pressing and Cutting Room ; fifth, a specimen
of the Coin Press used for producing the die ; and sixth,
the principal Steam Engine of the Mint.
An engraving representing a vivid scene described in
the first chapter of our new novelette, by Lieutenant Mur-
ray, now publishing in tliese columns, entitled, " The
Heart's Secret, or the Fortunes of a Soldier."
A very accurate view of the new Court of Law, called
Osgood IIjUI, at Toronto, Canada.
A capital picture of French art, entitled the Rapids,
giving a livid water scene.
CURIOUS CASE.
The Bath (Mc.) liirror of June 1st, states
that a Mrs. Dan-ali, residing at AVinnegance, ap-
parently died on the Saturday previous. Prep-
aration.s were made for her funeral the Sunday
following. On liandling the body it was discov-
ered to be slightly warm, and there were other
indications that, although the blood was not per-
ceptibly in motion, she was yet alive. The lan-
cet was applied, and blood flowed quite freely,
and the application of a glass to the mouth and
nostrils indicated a slight respiration. Up to
Thm'sday her condition appeared to be improv-
ing, but there were no signs of consciousness.
Her body was to be kept until there were indica-
tions of decay.
Sad Mistake.— Two children of Mr. Fenni-
more of Dubuque, Iowa, who were ill with the
measles, were poisoned recently by a mistake of
the druggist in putting up a prescription of mu-
riate of morphia, instead of syrup of ipecac.
Chinese Junk. — The Chinese junk Keying,
which, it will be recollected, was exhibited in
New York several years since, was recently sold
at auction in London.
Mlle. Rosa Jacques, the prima donna, is
about to settle in Chicago, Jier services having
been .secured by one of the churches in that city.
GEMS FEOM SHAK3PEARE.
— A woman's fitness comes by fits.
— Easy it is of a cut loaf to steal a shive.
— Winning will put every man into courage.
— The world is still deceived with ornament.
— I"ruits that blossom first, will first be ripe.
— Love all ; tnist a few ; do wrong to none.
— Good words arc better than bad strokes.
— 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
— Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.
— Were man but content, he were perfect.
— The nature of bad news infects the teller.
— Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
— He is well paid that is well satisfied.
— Unhecdful vows may heedfuUy be broken.
— Scorn at first makes after love the more.
— A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.
— We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.
— In time we hate that which we often fear.
— 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus.
— How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature.
SU30IER.
The " green and bowery " summer, so ardently
sighed after, has come at last, and hot days,
which in our chilly no-spring we voted impossi-
bilities, have actually been realized. How the
sun has revenged himself on unbelievers by pour-
ing down floods of intolerable, scalding, scath-
ing, inimitable splendor ! Straw hats have
been no kind of protection ; gossamer jack«:;ts
have afforded little relief, and white pantaloons
have been but a slight alleviation of misery. If
we have encountered sucli tropical visitations in
June and July, what must be expected in the
height of dog days in this city"?
One of these hot days in the city puts a man's
fortitude to the severest test. Awnings, water-
carts, ices, fans and Venetian blinds are inade-
quate defences with the thermometer at ninety
and rising, amid a wilderness of brick and mortar,
with walls and sidewalks to radiate tlie meridian
lustre. Go to the Common on such a day, and
your feet will be blistered in your pilgrimage in
seaixh of coolness. And how discouraging it is
to watch the pai'ched foliage, in hope of discover-
ing indications of the presence of a light zephyr,
and see not a leaf tremble on its slender stem.
Then you gaze upon the sky ; not a shadow of
a cloud ; but a vast concave arch of heated as-
pect, rendered hot, as if by some invisible fur-
nace. The water conveys no idea of coolness in
such ; a falling fountain seems like boiling liquid,
and you instinctively get out of the way of the
drops, lest they scald you. You take a walk on
one of the whaiwes, and gaze into the tide on
which the sun's rays pour fiercely down, and
wonder why you don't see lobsters, cod and
halibut already boiled and floating up to tlie
surface.
Talk of a bath! You would as soon jump
into a cauldron. Ton eat an ice, and you arc
hotter for it — unless indeed it gives you a slight
foretaste of cholera, by way of varying yoiu* en-
joyments. After all, you dctei-mine to escape
from the city into the country for a few days or
houi's, and see what the temperament is there.
Alas ! it is out of the frying-pan into the fire.
Dusty woods, dusty trees, parching fields, gasp-
ing cattle, withering grapes, sunshine, bm"iiing
sunshine everywhere. But you lie down in some
shady place, exasperated at the remark of a
friend, who tells yon to "keep cool," and make
up your mind to sufter with fortitude — the only
philosopliical thing you can do.
Perhaps your patience, like other manifesta-
tions of virtue, brings its own rew^ard. The
bright blue of the sky changes into a deer-skin
hue, becomes gray, and finally leaden. The
wind rises — clouds of dust obscm-e the atmos-
phere— the birds rush wildly to their woodland
coverts — a hea\'y- rumbling, like the muttering of
a distant artillery train, is heard — then come pat-
tering down the " gracious drops," hastily ac-
cumulating into a pouring, drenching shower, —
and what is more delicious than a summer shower
at the»close of a hot day, even if accompanied by
heavy thunder and sharp liglitning "? It braces
up the unstrung nerves, and gives life and vigor
to the mind.
And when the temporary deluge is over — when
the clouds roll away from before the face of the
majestic sun — when the birds fly forth again in
the bright an-, uttering their joyous songs of
praise, then indeed do we appreciate and feel the
full splendor and magnificence of summer ! then
are we reconciled to the bm-ning heat, without
which vegetation would not flourish in this our
happy, though often chilly, northern clime.
A aUEER FELLOW.
The Boston Post tells of a man in Maine who
kept a grocery store, and when he sold a pint or
a half pint of rum, always put his thumb into
the measui'e — an enormous large thuml) — and at
the end of twenty years' practice, he estimated
that he had sold his thumb for at least S5000,
and had it left after all. What an old soaker it
must be; fortunate that the Maine liquor law
has been passed, if they have come to this.
Lady Johnson, the only daughter of Lord
William Campbell, who. was once provincial
governor of South Carolina, died lately in Eng-
land.
Arbitrary Law. — Tlie Turkish government
has issued a mandate forbiddhig the publication
of unauthorized books.
Minute. — The thickness of leaf gold is but
the 282,000th part of an inch.
OURSELVES.
We had made arrangements for a large in-
crease in our subscription list at the commence-
ment, last week, of our new volume, but had not
counted upon the degree of popularity to which
the Pictorial has actually an'ived. Subscribers
have poured in upon us from far and near ; lists
of names, from towns where we have heretofore
sent but one or two copies of our paper, have
come in at such rate as to render a large increase
of our regular edition necessary. Thus we go.
Our efforts are appreciated — the Pictorial is
really v.aluable, and people will have it. This is
just what we wish.
A paper like the Pictorial speaks for itself; it
needs very little eulogium from us ; it needs but
to be seen to be liked and appreciated. Tlie
improvements which we have made from month
to month, since its commencement, have been of
a character to sm*prise and delight oiu'selves;
and we know that the public appreciate these
improvements, by the extraordinary patronage
that is extended to us. But we shall not rest
here ; we are resolved to live up to our never-
varj'ing motto — e^-cchior !
Persons desirous to preserve the Pictorial for
binding, and to possess it complete, will at once
appreciate the necessity of subscribing at an
early stage of the volume, that tliey need not
miss any of the numbers ; and therefore let us
impress it upon them to subscribe at once. En-
close your S2 to the office of publication, and by
return of mail you will receive the number of the
paper, and thenceforth it will become a weekly
visitant at your fireside.
Persons desiring the past volumes bound, liave
only to hand them in to our oflSce, where we
will put them into a beautiful shape, with gilt
back, gold edges, and illumined sides, for a
charge of one dollar each. Take our advice, and
preserve this illumined record of the times.
A PATTERN YACHT.
An English paper says Mr. Veal, a working
shipwright of the Davenport dockyard, has
made himself a sailing boat upon the lines sup-
plied by Ml'. W. Rundell, also a shipwright in
the dockyard, after, as nearly as possible, the
America yacht. It was tried against the picked
boats of the port, and it has beat them all. Her
hidl and her sails were as much like the America
as possible. The boats with which she raced
carried mucli more canvass, and when going be-
fore the wind got ahead of the America model
boat. As soon as it became needful to close
haul, she overhauled the whole of tliem, and
won in gallant style. It appeared to surprise
many practised boat-builders that a craft with
such limited sails should have beaten their
" crack boats :" but so it was.
West Point Graduating Class. — The fol-
lowing are the five names at the head of the list
of the class just graduated at West Point: 1.
Thomas L. Casey, of Rhode Island ; 2. Newton
P. Alexander, of Tennessee ; 3. Geo. W, Rose,
of New York ; 4. Geo. B. Mendell, of Pennsyl-
vania; 5. Joseph C. Ives, of Connecticut.
Back Numbers. — We can supply all the hack
numbers or any one of them that may be desu'cd
by our readers, from the commencement of the
Pictorial,
Convicted. — Scheidcl has been convicted of
murdering a constable at St. Louis, and sen-
tenced to ninety-nine years imprisonment in the
penitentiary.
A Century Plant. — Mr. Longworth, of Cin-
cinnati, has in his garden a century plant which
is expected to bloom in a few days.
Brandy. — The Cincinnati Commercial says,
hundreds of barrels of whiskv come tlicre daily,
to go forth as brandy and other spiritual varieties.
A Long Nap. — A girl 16 years of age, living
at St. Malo, is said to have been asleep six weeks
and witliout having had any nourishment.
Died. — William King, the first governor of
Maine, died at Bath recently, aged 84.
Cheap. — Barnum pays a man a dollar a day
and his board, for being 100 years old.
Granite State. — Cass, Webster, Dickinson,
Dix and Douglass, were born in New Hampshire.
In this city, hy Rev. Mr. 5Iiner, Mr. George K. Smith to
Miss Emma B. Benncr.
By Rev. air. Huntington, Jlr. Heniy Brackett to Miss
Sanih S. Holden.
By Rev. Mr. Street«r, Mr. Daniel Wise, Jr. to Miss Sa-
brina E. Herpcy.
By Rev. Mr. Flint, Mr. TTovey K. Clarke, of MarshaU,
Mich., to Miss Martha A. Upham, of Cliarlestown.
By Rev. Dr. Young, Sir. Tiiomas J. Allen to Miss Caro-
hne Ealch Williams.
At East Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Holland, Mr. Andrew
li. Perkins, of Mcdibrd, to Miss Mary W. Rindge.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Boyden, Capt. Thomas R. Lewis
to Miss Lydia S. Pickering.
At Andovcr. by Rev. Mr. Taylor, "Wm. A. Dodge, Esq.,
of Barre, Vt-, to Miss Jennie Green Abbott.
At Newburyport, Mr. Charles W. Gumey to Miss Char-
lotte A. Barrett.
At Sudbury, by Rev. Mr. Crane, of Weston, Mr. P. B.
Dow, of La^vrence, to Miss Charlotte Rice.
At Exeter, N. H., John W. Bolting, Esq., of Philadel-
phia, to Miss Amelia M. Xahar Howard, of Boston.
At Clarcmont, N. H., Mr. Arthur W. Windett, of Chica-
go, 111., to Miss Maria E. Kimball, of Bradford, Ms.
At Antrim, N. H.. Mr. Moses Sargent, aged 74, to Misa
IJlalie Vamum, aged 15, both of Candia.
At Portland, Me., Dr. Charles U. Osgood to Miss Annie
W. Appleton.
At Washington, D. C, Cnustin Browne, Esq., of New
York, to Miss Kate Kveieth Maynadier.
In this city, Mrs. Abigail II. Edwards, 31 ; Frederick W.,
sou of Mr. George Phippeo, 2 mos. ; Miss Ellen Davidson ;
Chary B., daughter of Mr. E. M. Chandler, 20 mos. ; Mrs.
Elizabeth A. Hastings, 29 ; ML<;s Hannah Greenough, 76 ;
Capt. Samuel Ayres, 78.
At Boxhury, Mr. Charles Grant, of New York, 26.
At Charlestown, Mrs. Lucv Perkins. 62.
At Chelsea, .1. Theodore 11. Wheeler, 11.
At Cambridge, Miss Harriet Clark, 53-
At Salem, Mr. George West, 42 ; Mr. Ja's Thornton. 90.
At Danvcrs, Mrs. Nelly ^Y, Osborn.
At Lowell, Mrs. Mary Beals, 54.
At South Weymouth, Mr. Alviu Reed, 46.
At Newburyport, Mr. Robert S. Lane, 43.
At West Ne'wbury, Mrs. Mary A. Todd, of Boston, 22.
At Ashbumhara, Mr. Cyrus Fairbanks, 100.
At Taunton, Miss Ann E. Lindsey, 21.
At South Dartmouth, Capt. Patrick Gerry, 85.
At Springfield, Mr. Walter Stebbins, 84.
At Pittsfield, Mrs. Catharine Hunton.
At Kecne, N. H., Aaron Appleton, Esq., 84.
At East Sanbomton, N. H., Mrs. Clara Blodgett, 35.
At Kennebunk, Me., Mr. Cyi-us K. Thompson, printer.
At Portland, Me.. Capt. Seth Bird, 79.
At Barre, "Vt., Mrs. Alice J. Tilcston, 33.
At Providence, R. I., Mrs. Aniey Richmond, 68-
At Windsor, Ct., Mrs. Anna A. BolJes, of Jlilford, IMs., 29 .
At New York, Mr. Patrick Brady, 105.
At Leicester, N. Y., Mr. Isaac Chase, 96.
At Bethany, Pa., Mr. Arthur H. Otis, 26.
At Mobile, La,, Miij. Thomas Sturtevant, 64.
A mmwmw mmmim,
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURiSTAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A Record of the beautiful and nscfid in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devot«d to original
tales, sketcLes and poems, by this
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. JCucIi paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLU.STIIATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in tiie known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of ail the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also he
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fi.sh of the sea. It is
printed on fine satiu-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, mnnufacturcd expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
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30
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAWING PJ)0:M COMPANION.
[U'rlttcn for Oleanon'B IMctoriul.]
THE VISIT:
— OK —
THE ILL-llEOULATED FAMILY.
BY MRS. M. E. nODlNSOK.
"I AM truly glftd to sec you, Mrs, Thomns/'
resumod Mrs. Fay, nftur the first words of wel-
coiUG liad l)cen said, "and slmll insist ujion your
Bpciidiny: the day witli nic."
" I will, with pleasure," answered the visitor,
as she gave her bonnet and shawl into the liands
of her hostess. " I wished much to sec you be-
fore leaving the city, for once, if you recollect,
we were very good friends."
"And arc so now, I hope," added Mrs. Fay,
with a smile. "Absence, on my part, has not
succeeded in conquering old fricndsliips, and your
face strongly reminds me of my younger days.
"Wc are happiest in youth, after all ; what a pity
we cannot always remain young."
" I think I shall be obliged to differ with you
a little on tluit subject ; wc will leave it, however,
for future discussion. I have seen you but twice
since your wedding day, when you entered the
pale of matrimony a laughing, happy creature,
anticipating notliing but happiness and sunshine
in the future."
" Yes," sighed Mrs. Fay; "but the experi-
ence of many years has shown me the fallacy of
such sentiments."
" Wliy, you do not regret the step, do you ?"
" Not exactly that ; but then one has so many
cares, and children arc such a trial."
" The latter require much attention, I will
allow, and on the whole are rather troublesome
comforts ; but I believe a mother is amply re-
paid for all her care and anxiety respecting her
children, when they reach an age to be capable
of being companions, and share in her joys and
sorrows."
"I have four children," resumed Mrs. Fay.
"Ellen is sixteen, Henry twelve, Anna ten, and
the youngest four. The boy and Anna quarrel
all the time ; Ellen has her own way in every-
thing, while the youngest has been babied so
much that he is quite as bad as the rest."
" But do you manage them right?" earnestly
inquired her friend.
" I try to correct them when they are Avrong,
but it does no good, and sometimes I think the
best way is to let them entirely alone. I can
truthfully say that they are no comfort to me
whatever. It is not pleasant to tell such a story ;
but as you cannot fail to observe the truth of
what I say, it is just as well."
At this juncture, and before the lady could re-
ply, the door was thrown violently open, and a
girl, which was evidently Anna, rushed into the
room, threw her bonnet nidely upon the carpet,
and began to hum snatches of a song, taking no
notice of Mrs. Thomas.
" Anna, my dear, do you not see I have com-
pany V said her mother. " Come and speak to
the lady."
" Yes, come ; I would like to talk with you,"
added the lady, in a winning voice. " I have a
little girl about your age."
Anna turned slowly, and with a bold stare
scrutinized Mrs. Thomas from head to foot, and
then, as if satisfied with the result, without a
word stalked out of the room.
" That's not the way to behave!" exclaimed
Mrs. Fay. " But if you will go, come back and
get your bonnet. That is a fair sample," she
added, in a lower tone ; "two "or three times a"
day I pick up bonnets, shawls, rubbers, etc.; but
of what use is it, as they are thrown down again
immediately."
The girl was just closing the door, but as she
happened to want her bonnet before joining a
troop of girls in the street, she condescended to
obey.
" If you had not been here, she would not have
done as much as that," added the mother, as she
arose and closed the street door, which had been
slamming for the last fifteen minutes. " No one
thinks of closing a door in the house ; but I sup-
pose it is my destiny to wait upon others, and I
may as well submit with a good grace."
" Your children arc old enough, with one ex-
ception, to wait upon yon," was the quiet reply.
" Perhaps so ; but I have given that up long
ago."
Mrs. Thomas changed the subject, and con-
versed for an hour upon things which their long
fleparation had rendered interesting.
" You will excuse me," said Mrs i ay, abrupt-
ly, after a short pause ; " but as my girl left me
two days ago, and I have been unalile to procure
another to take her place, I am obliged to sec to
my work myself, and must accordingly leave
you to amuse yourself as you can."
" But why not let nie go, too '; perhaps I can
assist you," replied the lady. " I can at least
look after your little boy."
" Why, bless yon, he wont let you come with-
in a yard of him; he is uncommonly bashful.
However, I nniy find something for you to do, if
you will overlook any little want of ceremony."
" Certainly," was the polite reply, and follow-
ing her hostess, the lady groped her way down
the dark stairway and entered the kitchen.
But her countenance fell as she stepped over
the threshold. She thought she had never seen
a more disordered room, or so many unnecessary
articles collected into such a small space. A
large dog lay stretched out in the centre of tlie
room, which Mrs. Fay soon sent growling under
the table ; a noisy parrot, several tamo white
rabbits, and two cages of canaries, completed the
live stock of the apartment. A pile of unironed
clothes lay in one clmir, and a very handsome
lamp mat under a dirty nsipkin in another, while
the only two empty ones had been inverted and
substituted for horses by some of the children.
One was handed the lady, who mechanically
drew her dress about her, and adroitly changed
it for the other, as a piece of bread and butter,
which still adhered to the surface, did not pos-
sess sufficient inducement for her to sit upon it.
The tabic cover had been pushed off, and the
aforesaid large dog found no fault with it as abed.
A couple of pokers, shovel and tongs to match,
a switch and a broom had undisputed possession
of the space in front of the cooking stove, while
upon the latter sat a coffee pot, two flat irons, a
tea kettle, a dirty looking dish, and a curling
iron, encircled by a stream of ashes. One of the
curtains was sadly torn, and hung in a kind of
festoon across the window, which gave it a very
picturesque appearance ; while upon the seat
were scattered hair brushes, pins, combs, curl
papers, not forgetting part of an apple, and ma-
ny dried bits of cake.
Mi's. Thomas glanced at the objects we have
enumerated, and then took a cursory look at the
wet sink which stood in a corner. We shall not
attempt to descriljc it, but if the reader will please
endeavor (judging by what we have said before)
to imagine what was in and about it, they are at
liberty to do so. Suffice it that one glance was
sufficient for tlie visitor, and will be for us.
" My conscience !" cried Mrs. Fay. " Wliat a
bedlam of a place the children have made of this
room ! Why, would you believe it ? No longer
ago than last night I swept it all over myself,
and now who would know if?"
" Who, indeed ?" thought her companion.
" It does no good for me to try, for it is labor
lost. Do sit down, if you can find a place, while
I hunt up the children. I wonder where Tom-
my is V she added, stepping to the door, and
screaming the boy's name with all the strength
of her lungs.
But no Tommy appeared ; all was silent.
" I wonder wliere the little plague is 1 if he is
out of my sight, some mischief is brewing."
At that moment a terrific ci"ash was heard in
an adjoining closet. The two hastily sprang to
their feet, and Mrs. Fay opened the door. There
lay the missing Tommy screaming and kicking,
with the contents of ajar of pickles and one of
preserves streaming over him. Nor was this all :
the chair and cricket which he had used in climb-
ing, had slipped and fallen upon him, thereby
causing him to kick violently and break a bottle
filled with oil, which happened to be standing
near. The three liquids — oil, vinegar and syrup
— had no objection to a closer acquaintance, and
joined currents.
Having satisfied herself that he was not hurt,
Mrs. Fay shook Tommy violently, changed his
dress, tied him into a chair, and placed him near
Mrs. Thomas, while she tried to repair the mis-
chief which had been done. The lady, however,
felt obliged to make the distance greater between
herself and the child, who amused himself in a
way not at all to her liking.
This proceeding was no sooner perceived than
he sent up another scream. Mrs. Fay flew to
liini, called him a " darling," and wondered
what was tlie matter. Tommy made no reply,
but pointing significantly to the lady, who had
the temerity to offend him, cried louder than
ever.
His mother looked from one to the other,
while the lady remained silent, and seemed some-
what perplexed. After a moment's pause, the
former stepped to a closet and brought out a
large titick of candy, which she placed in the
outstretched hands of the diiid, with t!ic remark
that she " believed the ]joor little fellow was hurt
inwardly." Mrs, Thonuis Hmilcd, the outcry
ceased as if by magic, and the mother Jigain
commenced to disencumber the stove and make
a fire. Just then the eldest boy entered.
" I am glad you have come, Hcniy," said she.
"1 want you to go to the market and get some
steak ; make haste, for it is very late."
Butthelioy renuuncd in his seat. Mrs. Thom-
as could not help showing some astonishment,
as his mother, who by this time was lieatcd and
flurried, demanded sharply " why he did not
obey ?"
" Because I don't want to," he returned. " I
went yesterday, and it's Anna's turn to-day."
" That's a fib, Mr. Henry ; for I've been every
day this week !" retorted the girl, who was just
at his heels.
" Silence !" exclaimed the parent, who, in the
presence of her friend felt obliged to make somo
show of authority. " One of you go, it makes
no difference which, and come back as soon as
possible."
" But I sha'n't go, for Anna's the best able !"
replied Henry, quite firmly, and unabashed by
the rebuking glances of Mrs. Thomas. " She's
been in the street all the morning, and hasn't
been studying as I have. Make her go."
" She can't do it, nor you either, Mr. Impu-
dence ! Been at school indeed ! Who played
marbles all the forenoon in the court ?" was the
angry rejoinder; and the girl ran up the stau'S
into the parlor, followed by her brother.
" You see just how it is !" exclaimed the mo-
ther, in a despairing voice. "I am a slave to
my children, and they refuse to do me the small-
est favor. Do you blame me for being discour-
aged '?"
" I fear you have some cause to be so, my
friend ; but are you sure that the fault is not
your own '? Why not insist upon being obeyed V
asked Mi's. Thomas, seriously.
" They are past my control," sighed the
mother.
" But it is never too late."
" The three oldest are too large for me to man-
age now ; they are stronger, physically, than
myself, and reasoning has no effect at all. But
there is no use in talking; I shall have to get
the dinner myself, and may as well go first as
last."
" Do not trouble yourself for me ; I am not at
all particular, and as you have had so many an-
noyances this morning, I would neither go nor
send for anything," said Mrs. Thomas.
"I have a great mind not to," was the re-
joinder. " As you are an old friend, I wont
stand upon ceremony, but just get a picked up
dinner." And saying this, Mrs. Fay untied the
boy, and requested her friend to keep .an eye on
him while she went in search of something where-
with to kindle the fire. The lady willingly as-
sented, though fearing, from former demonstra-
tions, that she might get more than she bargained
for ; but by dint of coaxing, she succeeded in
keeping him quiet.
While thus engaged, she could not help think-
ing of the change which years had wrought in
the friend of her youth. Formerly she was very
neat in her personal appearance, but now it was
the reverse. Her dress, which was not quite
whole, nor remarkably clean, was slovenly put
on, while a three cornered handkerchief took the
place of a collar about her neck ; she was walk-
ing around slip-shod, and a cap, which once
claimed to be white, trimmed with a smoky
colored ribbon, was put on awiy.
The two had once been intimate friends, but
the marriage of both, and the great distance be-
tween their respective homes, combined with
other disadvantageous circumstances, had broken
off their intercourse. Mrs. Fay, however, was
tnily glad to see her friend ; she was a pleasant
dispositioned woman, not wanting in good sense
or intelligence, and with but one serious fault ;
she was much too yielding, possessed but little
firmness of purpose, and by degrees had lost all
influence over her children, who soon saw their
advantage, and were not long in obtaining a
complete mastery. Her wishes were disregard-
ed, her commands unheeded, her threats laughed
at, and however impertinent in character their
language might bc.it could only be resented;
for, were a struggle for authority commenced,
they were sure to gain the victory and have their
own way.
The father, wdio was wholly devoted to his
business, saw his children but little ; and so long
as they did not materially interfere with his com-
fort while at liome, seldom noticed them, save to
remark that they were " a great tnjuhle," which
observation his wife most fully concurred in.
When she coinpluincd of their disobedience, and
urged him to interpose Ids authority, he would
adci that she could " d(j with them as she pleased,
but on no account to bother him with such small
mattei's ; as his business demanded all Iiis time
and attention, he did not wish to have his mind
disturbed by trifles."
This no douI)t had a tendency to discourage
bis wife, who found it the most quiet if not the
best way to make no resistance, and let things
go on as- smoothly as they might. Although not
naturally of untidy habits, yet her attempts at
something like neatness had been so often over-
ruled that she had imperceptibly become carelesa
and less inclined to effort.
Mrs. Thomas sighed, and doubted not that
Mrs. Fay liad spoken truthfully, when she avcired
that she had " no comfort with her children."
While thus engaged in reflection, the hostess had
been preparing the "picked uj) dinner," and
they now took seats at the table. The food
which was placed before them did not look very
inviting, and the cloth {judgiiig from sundry evi-
dences) Iiad obviously pcrfonned duty a long
time ; but Mrs. Thomas heroically swallowed a
a few mouthfuls of the thin, unpalatable soup,
and then tiied to eat a piece of the bumed, dried
bread. It was something of a failure, notwith-
standing, and she soon laid it aside, together
with some quarters of half stewed apple, which
Mrs. Fay called " sauce."
" You sec I have treated you like one of the
family," said the latter. " I used to put myself
to considei'able trouble when I had a friend to
dinner, but now I think it is just as well to put
on what you may happen to have. Have a piece
of this cake ? I'm afraid if you don't take it now,
the children will get it all. I don't often make
pies, it is so much work; and as for puddings,
wc think they are not healthy. Henry," she add-
ed, " don't be so selfish ; three pieces arc quite
enough."
Mrs. Thomas had not failed to observe that
Henry and Anna had helped themselves to what-
ever they liked, and were now striving to see
which should fare the best ; to the imminent
hazard of overturning the castor, and doing some
damage with their forks, which were all the while
upraised.
Having ineffectually tried to restore order, the
mother and her guest retreated to the parlor,
leaving them to "quarrel it out," as the former
observed.
" This is my daughter Ellen," she added, as
upon their entrance a young lady was discover-
ed lying at full length upon a sofa. Without
rising, she nodded familiarly in answer to the
salutation of Mrs. Thomas.
" I wish you and Anna would wash the dish-
es," continued Mrs. Fay. "I am tired, and
would like to talk with this lady, who is an old
friend."
" Anna may, if she likes, but I don't wish to
soil my hands in the water ; besides, I am going
to walk, and shall want my dress and muslins
pressed out," answered the dutiful daughter, with
a long yawn.
" The sooner you arc out of the way the bet-
ter," observed her mother, and excusing herself
to her guest, went below, smoothed the dress,
and after much time had been spent in searching
for a glove, which was eventually found under a
bed, and a sunshade which had been rather un-
ceremoniously tumbled into a basket of soiled
linen, her toilet was completed, and she left the
house, it must be confessed, much to the satis-
faction of Mrs. Thomas.
After her departure, the latter, presuming upon
long acquaintance, earnestly endeavored to con-
vince Mrs. Fay of the error into which she had
fallen ; as a friend, she warned her of the soitow
and disappointment wdiich would most surely re-
sult from such a course, and urged her, for the
best interests of her children, if not for her own
sake, to make one more effort.
But she was unsuccessful ; for, although Mrs.
Fay admitted the truth of her remarks, she had
fallen into a kind of apathy respecting the sub-
ject, and repeatedly said " it was of no use," at
the same time thanking her friend for her kind
wishes and the interest which she had manifested.
The latter left at the close of the day, regret-
ting that the visit from which she anticipated so
much pleasure had not been one of unalloyed
happiness; but from that time, felt an increased
satisfaction in the society of her own obedient,
affectionate children, and perceived still gieater
the advantages of a well-regulated household.
GLEASON'S PICTOPdAL DRAWlNCx ROOM COMPANION.
31
ENCOUNTER WITH A BOA.
Ml-. Miison, in his recently published work,
"Pictui-es in Mexico," rehitcs the following cir-
cumstance, which occuiTed to him while loiter-
ing along a shady path in the forest : " I stepped
aside for a moment to admire a rich tuft of pur-
ple flowers, my mule having plodded on about
eight or ten yards ahead, when, as I turned from
the flowers towards the path, a sensation as of a
flasli of lightning struck my sight, and I saw a
brilliant and powciful snake winding its coils
round tlie head and body of the poor mule. It
was a large and magnificent boa, of a black and
yellow color, and it had entwined the poor beast
so firmly in its folds that ere he had time to utter
more than one feeble cry he was crushed and
dead. Tlie perspiration broke out on my fore-
head as I thought of my narrow escape ; and
only remaining a moment to view the movements
of the monster as he began to uncoil himself, I
rushed through the brushwood, and did not con-
sider myself safe until I was entirely free of the
forest."
RELEASED.
Mr. John Cunningham, tlie American engi-
neer, whose imprisonment in Cuba has been the
subject of so much comment, has been released.
He was imprisoned in September last, for being
engineer of a train which ran oft' the track. The
Matanzas courts piled up fines, costs and charges
upon him at so round a rate, that he abandoned
all ideas of ever regaining liberty. An appeal
was taken to the superior court at Havana, where
the sentence below was mitigated, so far as to
order the discharge of the prisoner as soon as
jail fees and some $85 fines should be paid. The
jail fees, amounting to S800, had been paid, but
the fines, for lack of means had not, when a sud-
den mandate arrived from government, com-
manding the immediate release of the prisoner.
It is supposed that this order was in consequence
of the interference of the United States goveni-
ment.
THE EGG TRADE.
The New York Express says that from one to
two hundred barrels of eggs are daily received in
that city by the New York and Erie railroad, and
probably as many more by the Hudson river and
other roads leading to that city. It also noticed
the arrival of 100 baiTels per steamer Empire
City from New Orleans, and says this is a curi-
ous fact in the history of the egg trade. Cincin-
nati eggs travelling to New Orleans, a distance
of 1500 miles, over the Gulf of Mexico, and up
the Atlantic to the city, 1500 miles more, con-
Btitutes one of the wonders of modern commerce.
Such a voyage was hardly contemplated by the
Ohio hens when they cackled so proudly over
their productions.
HEALTH.
The existence of cholera, on the water-courses
of the West, will naturally suggest preventive
means to avoid it, in all our large cities, particu-
larly Boston — and among these means none are
found to be so effective as cleanliness, a free use
of water and of lime — the bucket and the broom
— and a total abolishment of the accumulated
animal filth, that is apt to abound in certain lo-
calities. The Boston Board of Health should
take care of all this ; and the other authorities
will co-operate to secure this desirable precau-
tion, to continue to Boston the merited fame of
the healthiest city in the Union.
ENGLISH NUNNERIES.
The ladies of England manifest considerable
alarm on the subject of the Catholic nunneries,
which have increased, arc increasing, and as they
think, ought to be diminished. The ladies of
Gravesend have sent a petition to the queen,
praying for the official inspection of the obnox-
ious establishments. A similar petition has been
forwarded from the ladies of Chatham, the sig-
natures to both numbering nearly seven thou-
sand. An opinion seems to exist, that practices
of an unla^vful nature prevail in nunneries.
A Lady FRIGHTENED TO Death. — TheEock-
ingham, Va., Register states that ]Mi-s. Districk,
\v\fe of Mr. Jacob Districk, residing near Mount
Crawford, in that county, was frightened to death
by a tree-frog, which her daughter threw upon
her lap, which commenced jumping up towards
her face, and so frightened her that she died in
two or three days.
Hard.— A hard life, that of a cobbler — forever
straggling to make both ends meet.
lUawsik ffi>ail)mngs.
There is not yet a theatre in tlie whole State
of Texas.
Congress has spent another week doing
nothing.
Alexander Bell, of New Jersey, was robbed at
Panama of $3000.
Tlie California papers abound with details of
frightful outrages and murders.
General Pierce is about five feet eleven inches
in height, and finely proportioned.
Never within the last twenty years has politics
been so near a dead calm.
Dr. Abernethy shot M. D. Hoodinpile, lately,
at Eayettcville, Ala.
Mr. Edward C. Mayo, a brother of Mrs. Gen-
eral Scott, died at Richmond, a few days since.
The Franklin House, at Cincinnati, has been
sold to a gentleman of Columbus for $25,000.
In Alabama there is every prospect of a flour-
ishing and abundant crop.
Ml-. Johnston, an artist of Cincinnati, has gone
East to paint a likeness of General Pierce.
A Mrs. Garland has been arrested near Jones-
boro', Tcnn., for the murder of a Mi-. Hyder.
A little child, aged about two years, was lately
run over in Northampton Sti'cet, and severely
injured.
Two hundred and foiiy-six persons have been
run over, during the past twelve months, in New
York city.
Money, on first-class security, can be obtained
in ail the Atlantic cities at 5 per cent., and even
less.
A schooner of 150 tons is to leave Port Stan-
ley, on Lake Erie, for Australia direct, in Au-
gust. She is to be fitted in yacht style.
It is said that a military command has been
offered to General Changaraier, by one of the
South American republics.
Officer Ridgely, wdio recently killed the slave
he was arresting at Columbia, Pa., is lying hope-
lessly ill.
A fair plaintiff in La Grange, Ky., has recov-
ered a verdict of $4000 in a suit for " breach of
promise."
The time of passage to San Francisco has been
reduced to 24 daj's. In a year or t^vo it will
probably be done in 15 or 18 days.
Hon. William King died at Bath. Me., on the
17th ult., aged 84 years. He was the first gover-
nor of Maine, and has been an eminent politician.
Capt. Colby, an English officer, was recently
killed by a tiger which he was hunting, in
Bengal.
Enos Humphreys, principal dyer in the woolen
factory near Staunton, Va., fell into a vat of hot
liquid, and survived but a few hours.
A modem critic says, that most men have,
like Achilles, a vulnerable spot — but it is in the
head and not in the heel.
A man named James Tobin lately fell out of
the third story of a building in Theatre Alley,
and was severely injured.
Population of Pennsylvania increased in ten
vears from 1,724,031 "to 2,311,786, and New
York from 2,418,957 to 3,097,844.
The cholera attacked a train on the plains,
hound for California ; ten sickened in the morn-
ing, and six of them died before night.
The three balls usually prefixed to the shops of
pa\Mibrokers are said to indicate that it is two to
one that the things pledged are never redeemed.
A daughter of Prince Jerome Bonaparte is a
nun in the convent Les Oiseaux. She recently
invited the Arab chiefs to visit the convent, and
they were very much pleased with their reception.
A consignment of charcoal iron, from the
Acadian {Nova Scotia) Iron Works, has been
received at Liverpool, being the first importation
of that nature from the colony.
They are detemiined to have the ocean penny
postage. A large meeting at London lately
adopted resolutions recommending it earnestly.
Elihu Burritt spoke on the occasion.
Tlie line of stages from Indianola to San An-
tonio is now running through tri-weekly. This
change is pretty conclusive evidence of the great
increase of travel in that direction.
On the 100th exhibition of Albert Smitli's
panorama of the ascent of Mont Blanc, recently,
he presented every lady of the crowded assembly
present with a bouquet.
An attempt is to be made to set the Chinese
in California to cultivating tea. This is better
than driving them away, and may turn out to be
as productive a mine as the gold itself.
The silly custom of withdrawing the glove
from the hand, or saying, "Excuse my glove,"
if it is not taken off when people shake hands, is
getting out of usage, we are glad to see.
A young man, employed in a tobacco factory,
became deranged, a few days since, at Jersey
city, through ^e influence of the fumes of that
material.
The venerable mother of tlie Governor of
Hungary is accompanied by her two daughters,
their husbands, and their nine children. The
mother of Kossuth is of small stature, and about
seventy years of age.
Italy is emphatically a land of music, and the
phenomena the art there presents, afford ample
evidence that its ti-ue origin and object is feeling.
Public enthusiasm there sustains and exalts
music.
Jonign iilliscellaug.
Rome has proved a quarry for the world.
Catrigny, the well-known comic actor, is dead.
The great exhibition was to open at Cork on
the 10th.
At the last accounts, the fighting still contin-
ued at Algeria.
Tlie French fleet lying at Palermo, was to
have sailed for Algeria on tlie 20th of May.
A full amnesty has been granted to all desert-
ers from the Frencli merchant service.
An aeronaut named Goalston, was killed at
Manchester, England, lately, by falling from his
balloon.
The notorious Madame Lafarge, who has been
for some years confined in a maison de sante at
Rcmy, has received a free pardon.
The Hobart Town Gazette, of January 2d,
just come to hand, offers .£2 reward for the ap-
prehension of Meagher !
Mr. Birch, editor of The World newspaper, has
been sentenced to one year's imprisonment for
bis libel on Mi'S. French, a widow lady.
A perfect system of electric telegraph commu-
nication is now in use between the various offices
witliin the Bank of England.
According to the last report of the university
commissioners, a student's tobacco bill often
amounts to £40 a year.
A woman was sold in Nottingham market-
place, a few days since, by her husband, for a
shilling, including a new rope, value sixpence,
which was attached to her neck !
In Great Britain, for the half year ending De-
cember 31, 1851, the number of railway passen-
gers carried was 47,509,392. The number killed
was 113, or one in about 400,000.
A railway locomotive recently ran off without
an engineer, near Shrewsbury, England, and
after running a distance, at the rate of seventy
miles an hour, overtook a train, and sma.shcd
up two passenger cars, and injured a number of
persons.
The opera in London is in a very languishing
condition. Lumley has been unable to pay his
artists, and a regular row occurred recently
among them, in which the manager had to es-
cape over the roof, and the police were obliged
to interfere.
The British West India Mail Company an-
nounce their intention of commencing in August
next, to run a fast steamer between Savannah,
Georgia, and Nassau, Saguc, Jamaica and Cha-
gres, expecting thereby to seciu*e a portion of
the California traffic.
Joker's BuLigct.
Sanbs of (&olir.
He that hath no money needeth no purse.
.... Many preach, and but few practise what
they preach ; for they never apply theh* sermons
to themselves.
.... Never pride yourself on ha^^ng done a
particularly wise thing ; it may hereafter show
itself to have been particularly foolish.
.... Men often are not aware of what se^^ere
and untiring labor they are capable, until they
have made trial of their strength.
.... This may be said for love — that if you
, strike it out of the soul, life would be insipid,
and our being but half animated.
.... That calm and elegant satisfiiction which
the vulgar call melancholy, is the true and
proper delight of men of knowledge and virtue.
.... I tell you what it is — a man feels some-
thing like a man, who can walk the streets jing-
ling a spare dollar in his pocket, knowing that
he does not owe a red cent in the world.
.... Self-knowledge is one of the most diffi-
cult acquisitions in life. Many a man is an ass
for half a century without discovering that bray-
ing is not eloquence.
.... One of the greatest evils of the world is,
men praise rather than practise virtue. The
praise of honest industry is on everj' tongue, but
it is very rare that the worker is respected more
than the drone.
.... Literary society, unless modified by
knowledge of the world or generous feeling, is
far from desirable. Professed authors who over-
estimate their vocation, are too full of themselves
to be agreeable companions.
.... How nobly music mingles with the lives
of the good and great ! In early youth, the
author of the Reformation endeavored to support
himself by singing in the streets. This he
quaintly calls "bread music."
.... Education should inspire a profound love
of trutli, and teach the process of investigation.
A sound logic — by which, we mean the science
and art which instructs us in tlie true laws of
reasoning and evidence — is an essential part of a
good education.
.... The contemplation of disti-ess softens the
mind of man, and makes the heart better. It
extinguishes the seeds of en-vy and ill-will to-
wards mankind, coiTCCts the pride of prosperity,
and beats down all that insolence which is apt
to get into the minds of the fortunate.
.... The relation of walking to thought is
remarkable. More than one distinguished writer,
of whose habits literary biography has informed
us, found the influx of ideas or the fiow^ of ex-
pi-ession more ready and salient when under the
influence of this movement.
Wliy is a dinner like Spring 1 Because a sin-
gle stvallow never makes it.
A New York preparation for the growth of the
hair is called the " Kathairon," Cai-kair-on is
an ominous title, certainly.
A barrel of liquor was seized in Portland, last
week, marked " prime pork." It is supposed to
be a portion of the " striped pig."
Mrs. Partington asks, very indignantly, if the
bills before Congress are not counterfeit why
there should be such difficulty in passing them ?
Colonel Christy asks — Why is the stern of a
vessel leaving port like an uncivil gentleman ?
and answers — Because it never returns a how.
The Ohio Statesman says Gen. Pierce was a
soldier in the war of 1812. As he was then but
eight years old, he must have been attached to the
h]fant-v\.
N. P. Willis supposes the West India Islands
to have taken the name of the Antilles from the
legions of ants, and consequently ant-hills which
pervade them.
Wanted — A thin man, wdro is used to the busi-
ness of collecting, to crawl through keyholes and
find debtors who are " never at home." Salary,
nothing the first year, to be doubled each year
after.
Tlie man who was opposed to newspapers,
paid one hundred dollars last week for a galvan-
ized wail 1 In going to Dayton, he always takes
the canal, no. ing aware that there is any rail-
road buCt on that route.
"Tom," said a man to his friend, a day or
two since, "I think it highly dangerous to keep
the bills of small banks on hand nowadays."
" Tim," said the other, " I find it far more diffi-
cult than dangerous."
In one of the courts out West, of course, a
juryman being called and not answering, the
usual notice that he w^ould be fined was pro-
nounced against him, upon which a person, who
stood by, very gravely said to the court, " you
may fine him as much as you please, but I
don't think you will ever recover the fine, for I
saw him buried a week ago."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Dbawinq
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Tageants at homt and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; aud, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUJIINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our IVhoIeeale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR IWIO^^
AX ELEGANT, MORAL AND KEFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POR THE MrLLIO:^,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now tho
leaiiin^ iveelcly pnprr in tlie Uniud Slairs, and i^ litvrary^
contents arc allowed, by thebcstjudc'es, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
£0 condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advcrtiFements are adn.itted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors arc regularly engaged,
and every departiiient is under the most finished and per-
fect svstem that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STJBSCEIBEKS.
1 subscriber, one year S2 00
3 subscribers, " . • 5 00
4 '; " G 00
8 » >' 11 00
IG " <' 20 00
One copy of tho Flag of our Union, and o:-.c copy of the
PiCT0RL\L Drawing-Uoom COMPANION, ouo year, for S5<H).
[Q=" Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on tho abovo terms,
[n7=" AH orders sJwuld he adc/rc'.sed, POST P.VID, to the
Publisher of tue Flaq op oua Union,
\* The Flag can be obtahicif at avy of the newsp:::;::'
depots hi the Vu'ted Stales, and of neivspaper carriers, at
FOUR CENTS per sin^ie copy.
F. GLEvVSON,
Publisder and Prqpcietor, Boston, Mass.
32
GLEASON'S I'KTORIAL DRAWING llOOM COMPATnION.
YIEW OF FORT HA^HLTON, NEW YORK HARBOR.
FORT H^\J>IILTO]V, NEW YORK.
Our artist hns given us above a fine view of
this immense fortress, eight miles south from
New York city, which, in connection with Fort
Lafayette, situated in front of Fort Hamilton, in
the water, and Fort Tompkins and Fort Dia-
mond on Staten Island, commands not only the
Narrows, hat the bay and harbor of New York.
It is built in the most substantial manner of
granite, and on the most scientific and improved
principles of military tactics. It is about eight
feet thick and square, and will hold 5000 men,
and is said to be impregnable. It is surrounded
by a ditch, except in front. It mounts eighteen
heavy guns on the upper, and fourteen on the
lower tier, besides a number of field-pieces and
two or three furnaces for iieating shot red hot.
It is considered one of the finest forts in the
country ; and the heaviest cannon balls would
have but little effect, backed as it is by clay.
The view is taken from the pier belonging to the
fort, which communicates with Fort Laifiiyctte,
situated several rods from the sliore. This fort
mounts near one hundred guns ; it is in the form
of a diamond, and so called till Lafayette came
here and landed, and partook of a splendid ban-
quet, after which it took the name of Fort La-
fayette, and the new fort on the opposite side —
just finished — took the name of Fort Diamond.
The scenery in the vicinity is magnificent, and
has recently become a place of fashionable re-
sort— chiefly for the convenience of sea-bathing.
One of the largest hotels in the Union is in the
immediate vicinity. The place is growing rap-
idly, and property is held at an immense price.
A steamboat communicates from New York, and
a stage from Brooklvn.
DEGRADATION OF WORDS.
Thus, for instance, is it with the word " pmde,'*
signifying, as now it does, a woman with an over-
scrupulous affectation of a modesty which she
does not i*eally feel, and betraying the absence of
the reality by this over-precis en ess and niceness
about the shadow. This use of the word must
needs have been the result of a great corruption
of manners in them among whom it grew up.
Goodness must have gone strangely out of fash-
ion, before things could have come to this. For
" prude," which is a French word, mean virtuous
or prudent; "prud'homme" being a nrian of
courage and probity. But where morals are
greatly and almost universally relaxed, virtue is
often treated as hypocrisy, and thus, in a disso-
lute age, and one disbelieving the existence of
any inward purity, the word ** prude" came to
designate one who aflfected a virtue, even as none
were esteemed to do anything more ; and in this
use of it, which, having once acquired, it con-
tinues to retain, abides an evidence of the corrupt
world's dislike to and disbelief in the realities of
goodness, its willingness to treat them as mere
hypocrisies and shows.
Thus "silly," written "seely" in our earlier
English, is, beyond a doubt, the German '* selig,"
which means " blessed." We see the word in
its transition state in our early poets, with whom
"silly" is so often an affectionate epithet, ap-
plied to sheep as expressive of their liarmlessness
and innocency. With a still slighter departure
from its original meaning, an early English poet
applies the word to the Lord of glory himself,
while yet an infant of days, styling him " this
harmless silh/ babe." But here the same pro-
cess went forward as with the words " simple "
and " innocent." And the same moral pheno-
menon repeats itself continually.
The French have their "bonhommie" with
the same undertone of contempt, the Greeks also
a well-known word. It is to the honor of the
Latin, and is very characteristic of the best side
of Roman life, that "simplex" and "simplici-
tas " never acquired this abusive signification. —
Trench on the Study of Words.
ROTHSCHILD'S PILLAR.
Mr. Rothschild was a constant attendant on
'Change every Tuesdiiy and Friday ; and, for
years, was in the habit of planting himself at a
particular .spot, with his back to the pillar kno^vn
to every frequenter of the Exchange as " Roths-
child's pillar;" but, alas for hmnan greatness!
he was on one occasion doomed to experience
the sad annoyance that he had no especial rigiit
to that particular spot. A person of the name of
Rose, possessed of great courage but little judg-
ment, on Tuesday aftemoon, pm-posely placed
himself on the spot hitherto occupied I)y the mil-
lionaire. On Mr. Rothschild's approach he re-
quested the party to move. This was just what
the other expected, and what he was prepared to
dispute. He argued that this was the Royal
Excliange, free to all; and he, as a British sub-
ject, liad a right to stand there, if he thought fit.
This doctrine could not of course be disputed;
but ho was told it was the spot that Mr. Roths-
child invariably occupied, and, as such, ought to
be yielded : but no ; this dogged Rose, being a
powerful man, defied Mr. Rothschild and all his
tribe to remove him. For nearly three quarters
of an hour — the most valuable portion of the
Exchange time — did lie keep possession of the
pillar; and not until the whole business of the
exchange of the day was jeopardized did this
silly personage, after having, as he said, estab-
lished his right, retire, amidst the yells and
howls of all the merchants there assembled, who
fould hardly restrain themselves from pergonal
violence, so exasperated were they by the dogged
defiance of the interloper. — Laicson s Histori) of
nnnkiiiq.
GEN. WIXFIELD SCOTT WrilG CANDIDATE FOE THE PRESIDENCY.
GENERAL ^FINFIELD SCOTT,
WHIG CANDIDATE FOR THE PnESIDENCT.
As last week wc gave a portrait of General
Pierce, the Democratic nominee for President,
we lierewith present a fine likeness of General
Scott, the Whig candidate for the same office.
Of the life, services and character of Winfield
Scott, it is scarcely necessary to speak. He is
confessedly one of the greatest, if not the great-
est captain, of the age. The scars of battle are
on his brow. General Scott was born June 13,
1786, near Petersburg, Virginia, and is in his^
67th year. His ancestiy were men of the Low-
lands of Scotland. They were engaged in the
rebellion of 1745, and one of them was slain at
Culloden. In 1806, Winfield Scott was admitted
to the bar, and emigrated to Charleston, S. C
In 1808, when the army was enlarged by an act
of Congress, he became a captain of Light Ar-
tillery. In 1809, he was ordered to New Orleans,
under Gen. Wilkinson. On the breaking out of
the war of 1812, which he approved, Scott was
appointed — having perfected himself in tactics
in the meantime — lieutenant colonel of Artilleiy,
and sent to the Northern frontier, taking post at
Black Rock, near Buffalo. On the 13th of Oc-
tober, 1812, at the head of 350 regulars and 250
volunteers — the militia at Lewiston having, panic
struck, refused to cross the river — Scott fought
the battle of Queenstown Heights, against 1300
British. The Americans were repulsed, and
Scott was made a prisoner, but soon released.
On the 27th of May, 1813, he stormed Fort
George, and pulled down the flag with his own
hands. March 9, 1814, he joined in the capture
of Fort Matilda, on the St. Lawrence. On July
3, 1814, he captured Fort Erie. On the 6th, he
fouglit the battle and won the victory of Chippe-
wa, where the non-invincibility of British bayon-
ets was first proved to the world. On the 25th,
he fought the battle of Niagara and Lundy's
Lane, opposed by great odds — ^^'^ictory rewarded
the Americans. Scott had two horses shot under
him, and was twice wounded by musket shot.
For weeks his life was despaired of. Congress
voted him thanks. He was tendered the post of
Secretary of War by Madison, but declined in
deference to his seniors. Generals Brown and
Jackson. He soon after visited Europe, entrust-
ed with important diplomatic functions, for tlie "
])erformance of which he received the thanks of
the State Department. He returned to the
United States in 1816, and in 1817 married a
Miss Mayo, of Richmond, Va., by whom he has
several daughters, hut no living son. In 1832-3,
he won the compliments of General Cass, Secre-
tary of War, for his conduct in the Black Hawk
war. He was also engaged in the Seminole and
Creek wars. In 1837-8, he was engaged in set-
tling the troubles growing out of the "Patriot
war " on the Northern frontier. In 1840, he was
a prominent candidate for the Presidency. In
1841, on the death of Macomb, General Scott
was called to the entire command of the army.
During the Nullification agitation, he was in
command at Charleston Harbor. His last cam-
paign in Mexico is fresh in all memories. It is
summed up in t)ie brilliant victories of Vera
Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, Mo-
lino del Rey, Cliapultepec, and the City of Mex-
ico, all won within six months. AVellington has
declared the campaign unsurpassed jn military
annals, and yielded to Scott the name of the
greatest livhig soldier.
T? riTl?Aan\T( corner BROiiriELD
i<. UIjI<jAk5UiN, ( AND TKE5I0ST STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, JULY 17, 1852.
S2 TER TOLmiE. \ -rr
10 Cts. SLS'GLE. ( V OL.
III. No. 3.— Whole No. 55.
DONETXI'S MONltEY TROUPE.
"Wc present below an engraving illustrating a
scene from the famous and most remarkable per-
formance of Donetti's ti-ained animals, as they
lately appeared at the Astor Place Opera House.
Our descriptive sketch is taken from the pro-
gramme of performance. M. Donetti, an Italian
by birth, after a hard study of thirty years, has
succeeded in training a number of animals, so as
to make them do his bidding. But if they lose
sight of him only for a moment, their savage
instinct instantly returns to tliem. M. Donetti
has triumphed over them only by the power of
Jiis eyes, and he seldom or never punishes them.
It is by kindness alone lie has obtained the won-
derful results of which we give a description.
In scene 1st, the curtain rises slowly and disclos-
es a table, around which six well dressed mon-
keys of different species are sitting do^vTi, waiting
for their supper. They sit with demure faces,
excepting now and then a chattering wliich they
hold together, resembling the chattering of men
in a hurry to get their food. I\Ime. Rattafia,
another monkey, dressed in a blue skirt and
short gown, with cap on head, comes in with a
pair of candles, which she places on tlie table,
and retires to bring in the edibles, and with a
quickness of motion and propi'iety of conduct,
which ought to be copied by a number of our
servants. Mme. Kattafia's son, a little tiny
monkey, dressed as a cook, with w^hite frock and
white night cap, brings in a plate of salad, which
is placed before the convivial party, which is
soon devom*ed with gusto by the hungry crew ;
cakes, nuts, and other dainties arc brought in,
which follows the salad. Mme. Rattafia and her
son bring in a basket of wine, each monkey re-
ceives his bottle, which he seems to enjoy. Tlic
whole scene is one which creates shouts of laugh-
ter. M. Donetti next introduces to the audience
Le Magot d'Afrique, a handsomely-dressed mon-
key, who jumps on a slack rope, and performs
evolutions on it which put to shame many a
slack-rope dancer, which we see in our circuses.
The next slack-rope evolutionist introduced is
La Superbe Madrille, who goes through the
most surprising feats of tumbling and whirlhig
on tlie rope, to the great enjoyment of the audi-
ence ; such a happj' set of faces as were present
at the representation, are seldom met on any
otiier occasion. General Jocko, with sabre in
hand, riding on a beautiful dog, now comes in,
followed by his army of monkeys on foot, the
first of whom, as he follows on his hind legs.
leans liis head on the dog's tail, while the other
three, also bending their backs, repose in like
manner upon him and each other, perfomiing
several military evolutions. In anotlier scene,
Mile. Minie, the great equestrienne, comes in,
riding on a magnificent dog, and goes through
her exercises in a creditable manner, jumping on
and off lier courser with the greatest agility, and
performing in imitation of the circus riders, going
through all her feats with a serious face, and
with the greatest apparent satisfaction. M. Don-
etti next introduces the tight-rope dancer, a man-
drillc of ihe largest size, who, in imitation of the
rope dancer, has his feet chalked, and then com-
mences his dancing and jumping on the rope
with a balance pole in his hand. At the rise of
the curtain, and at the sound of mai'tial music,
tlie Marchioness of Batavia enters, riding in her
barouclie, drawn by two beautiful white poodles.
Ou the box, a monkey coachman sits with the
reins in his hand, and cracking his wliip. Be-
hind the carriage, a monkey footman, in rich
livery, rides. The noble monkey lady lias oc-
casion to descend from her carriage, and displays
her rich costume. She remounts, and the car-
riage starts at a rapid rate, one of the lincli pins
gives way, the barouche is upset, the monkey
lady falls out, but fortunately without sustaining
any fracture, a chair is brought, on which she
sits steadying her nerves until the footman, who
has run about to repair the accident, has suc-
ceeded in recovering the wheel, and replacing it;
all the time during the accident the coachman
has been holding his dog coursers by the bridle,
for fear of their running away. The carriage is
repaired, and the monkey marchioness re-enters
her carriage, when the whole equipage drives off.
In tlie scene of " The Deserter," as represented
below, a dog, dressed as a soldier, is seen walk-
ing on his hind legs, and carrying a musket on^
his shoulder, leading in a monkey,also dressed in
uniform, with two large red epaulets. A mon-
key, dressed as a clergyman, with wliite band;
projecting from his throat, brings in a placarded
sentence of condemnation to dcalky to be shot bi/ his
comrades. While a bell is slowly tolling,tlie mas-
ter ties a white handkerchief around the head of
the culprit, who, as one of the dogs levels a gun
at him and then fires it off, drops motionless. A
mournful tune is heard, and a monkey, dressed
as a grave-digger, in rusty black clothes, wheeling
in a black cart, puts the dead monkey into it,
and takes him oft" to perform the burial. The
scene is altogether very unique.
^;>i^i^;^^
BONETTl'S COMIC TROUPE OF TRAINED ANIMALS.
34
GLEASON'S l>I(;rORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entcvcd Hccording to Act of Congi-css, in tlio yenv 1852, by F. Gleabon, in tlio Clurli's Office of the
District Court of Mussadmsette.
[WIIITTKN EXrniiSSLT FOR OLEASON's I'ICTORIAL.]
THE
OR,
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
3. Storg vvf Cove rtnb ffjc im €<ii\Uxk^f
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
[CONTI
CHAPTER V.
THE WOUNDED SOLDIER.
The fervor and heat of the mid-day atmos-
phere had boon intense, but a most delightfully
rcfresliing sea breeze had sprung up at last, and
after fanning its way across the Gulf Stream,
was dallying now with the palms and orange
trees that so gracefully surrounded the marble
statue of Ferdinand, in the midst of the Plaza, and
ruffling the marble basin of water that hubbies
forth from the graceful basin at its base. Light
puffs of it, too, found their way into the invitingly
open windows of the governor's palace, into an
apartment which was improved by General Ha-
rero. Often pausing at the window to breathe
in of the delightful atmosphere for a 'mo"ment,
he would again resume Iiis irregular walk and
seemingly absorbed in a dreamy frame of mind,
quite unconscious of the outward world about
him. At last he spoke, though only communing
with himself, yet quite aloud :
" Strange, very strange, that this Captain Bc-
zan should seem to stand so much in my way.
Curse his luck, tlie old don and his daughter
feel under infinite obligations to him already,
and well they may, as to the matter of that. If
it was not for the girl's extraordinary stock of
pride, we should have her falling in love with
this young gallant directly, and there would be
an end to all my hopes and fancies. He's low
enough, now, however, so my valet just told me,
and ten to one, if his physician knows his case,
as he pretends, he'll make a die of it. He is a
gallant fellow, that's a fact, and brave as he is
gallant. I may as well own the fact that's what
makes me hate him so ! But he should not have
crossed my path, and served to blight my hopes,
there's the rub. I like the man well enough as
a soldier, hang it. I'd like half the army to be
just like liim — they'd be invincible ; but he has
crossed my interest, ay, my love ; and if he does
get up again and crosses me with Isabella Gon-
zales, why then — well, no matter, there are ways
enough to remove the obstacle from ray path.
"By the way," he continued, after crossing
and re-crossing the room a few times, " what a
riddle this Isabella Gonzales is ; 1 wonder if she
has got any heart at all. Here am I, who have
gone scathless through the courts of beauty these
many years, actually caught — surprised at last ;
for I do love the girl ; and yet how archly she
teazes me ! Sometimes, I think within myself
that I am about to win the goal, when di-op goes
the curtain, and she's as far away as ever. How
queenly she looks, nevertheless. I had much
rather be refused by such a woman, to my own
mortification, than to succeed with almost any
other, if only for the pleasure of looking into
those eyes, and reading in silent language her
poetical and ethereal beauty — I might be happy
but for this fcllow,this Captain Bezan ; he troubles
me. Though there's no danger of her loving
him, yet he seems to stand in my way, and to
divert her fancy. Thank, Heaven, she's too
proud to love one so humble."
Thus musing and talking aloud to himself,
General Harero walked back and forth, and back
and forth again in his apartment, until his orderly
brought him the evening report of his division.
A far different scene was presented on the other
side of the great square, in the centre of whicli
stands the shrubbery and fountain of the Plazn.
Let the reader follow u.s now in.side the massive
atone walls of the Spanish barracks, to a dimly
NUED . ]
lighted room, where lay a wounded soldier upon
his bed. The apartment gave token in its furni-
ture of a very peculiar combination of lilerary
and military taste. There were foils, long and
short swords, pistols, hand pikes, flags, military
boots and spurs ; hut there were also Shaks-
peare, Milton, the illustrated edition of Cervantes's
Don Quixote, and a voluminous history of Spain,
with various other prose and poetic volumes, in
different languages. A guitar also lay carelessly
in one corner, and a rich but faded bouquet of
flowers filled a porcelain vase.
At the foot of the bed where the wounded sol-
dier lay, stood a boy with a quivering lip and
swimming eye, as he heard the sick man moan
in his uneasy sleep. Close by the head of the
bed sat an assistant-surgeon of the regiment,
watching what evidently seemed to be the turn-
ing point as to the sufferer's chance for life or
death. As the boy and the surgeon watched
him thus, gradually the opiate just administered
began to affect him, and he seemed at last to fall
into the deep and quiet sleep that is indicated by
a low, regular and uninternqjted respiration.
The boy had not only watched the wounded
man, but had seemed also to half read the sur-
geon's thoughts, from time to time, and now
marked the gleam of satisfaction upon his face
as the medicine produced the desired effect upon
the system of his patient.
" How do you think Captain Bezan is. to-day ?"
whispered the boy, anxiously, as the surgeon
followed him noiselessly from the sick-room to
the corridor without.
" Very low, master Ruez, very low indeed ; it
is the most critical period of his sickness ; but he
has gone finely into that last nap, thanks to the
medicine, and if he will but continue under its
influence thus for a few hours, we may look for
an abatement of this burning thirst and fever,
and then — "
"What, sir?" said tlie boy, eagerly, "what
then ?"
" Why, he maj/ get over those wounds, but it's
a severe case, and would be little less than a
miracle. I've seen sicker men live, and I've
seen those who seemed less sick die."
"Alas ! then there is no way yet of decidincr
upon his ease," said the boy.
"None, Master Ruez ; but we'll hope for tlic
best ; that is all that can be done."
Ruez Gonzales walked out of the barracks and
by the guard with a sad countenance, and whis-
tling for Carlo, who had crouched by the parapet
until his yoimg master should come out, he
turned his steps up the C'aJla de Mercaderes to his
home. Ruez sought his sister's apartment, and
throwing himself upon a lounge, seemed moody
and unhappy. As he reclined thus, Isabella re-
garded him intently, as though she would read his
thoughts without asking for them. There seemed
to he some reason wliy she did not speak to him
sooner, but at last she asked :
"AVell, Ruez, how is Captain Bezan, to-day?
have you been to the barracks to inquire V She
said this in an assumed tone of indifference, luit
it was only as;.uraed.
" Plow is lie ?" repeated Ruez, after tinning a
quick glance of his soft blue eyes upon his sis-
ter's face, as though he would readher very soul.
Isabella/f// his glance, and almost blushed.
" Yes, brother, pray, how is Captain Bezan,
to-day? do you not know?"
" His life hangs by a mere thread," continued
the boy, sadly, resuming again his former posi-
tion. " The surgeon told me that hin recovery
was v(^ry doidufui."
" Did he tell you that, Ruez?"
" Not those words, sister, but tliat which was
equivalent (o it, however."
" lie i.>< worse, then, much worse?" slic con-
tinued, in a hasty tone of voice.
"Not worse, sister," replied Ruez. " I did
not tiay that he was worse, but the fever i-agcs
still, and unless that abates within a few hour.-J,
deatli must follow."
I.sabella Gonzales sat herself down at an open
balcony and looked olf on the distant country in
silence, so long, that Ruez and the hound both
fell asleep, and knew not that she at last left her
seat. The warmth and enervating influence of
the atmosphere almost requires one to indulge in
a siesta daily, in these low latitudes and sunny
regions of the earth.
" He is dying, then," said Isabella Gonzales,
to herself, after having sought the silence and
solitude of her own chamber, "dying and alone,
far from any kindred voice or hand, or even
friend, save those among his brothers in arms.
And yet how much do we owe to him ! He has
saved all our lives — Ruez's first, and then both
father's and mine; and in this last act of daring
gallantry and bravery, he received his death
wound. Alas ! how fearful it seems to me, this
strange picture. AVould I could see and thank
him once more — take from him any little com-
mission that he might desire in his last moments
to transmit to his distant home — for a sister,
motlier, or brother. Would that I could smooth
his pillow and bathe his fevered bi'ow ; I know
he loves me, and these attentions would be so
grateful to him — so delightful to me. But alas!
it would be considered a disgrace for me to visit
him."
Let the reader distinctly understand the feel-
ings that actuated the heart of the lovely girl.
The idea of loving the wounded soldier had
never entered the proud but now humbled Isa-
bella's thoughts. Could such a thought have
been by any means suggested to her, she would
have spurned it at once ; but it was the woman's
sympathy that she felt for one who would have
doubtless sacrificed his lite for her and hers ; it was
a simple act of justice she would have perfonned ;
and the pearly tear that now wet her cheek, was
that of sympathy, and of sympathy alone. Beau-
tiful trait, how glorious thou art in all ; but how
doubly glorious in woman ; because in her na-
tiu-e thou art most natural, and there thou flndest
the congenial associations necessary for thy full
conception.
General Harero had judged Isabella Gonzales
well when he said that there was no danger
of her loving Lorenzo Bezan — she had too much
pride !
But let us look once more into the sick room
we so lately left, where the wounded soldier lies
suffering from his wounds. A volante has just
stopped at the barracks' doors, and a girl, whose
dress betokens her to be a servant, steps out,
and telling her errand to the corporal of the
guard, is permitted to pass the sentinel, and is
conducted to the sick man's room. She brings
some cooling draughts for his parched lips, and
fragrant waters with which to bathe his fevered
temples and burning forehead.
" Who sends these welcome gifts to Captain
Bezan?" asked the assistant-surgeon.
"My lady, sir."
"And who is yom* lady, my good girl, if you
please ?" he asked.
" The Senorita Isabella Gonzales, sir," was
the modest reply of the maid.
"Ah, yes; her brother has been here this after-
noon, I remember," said the surgeon ; " the sick
man fell asleep then, and hasnotyetawakencd."
" Heaven grant the sleep may refi-esh him and
restore his strength," said the girl.
"Amen, say I to that," continued the sur-
geon, "and amen says every man in the regi-
ment."
" Is he so popular as that?" asked the girl,
innocently.
"Popular, why he's the pet of the entire di-
vision. He's the best swordsman, best scholar,
best — in short we could better lose half the other
officers than Captain Bezan."
" Do you think him any better than he was
this morning ?"
"The sleep is favorable, Itighly favorable,"
replied the surgeon, approaching the bedside ;
but in my judgment of the case, it must entirely
depend upon the state in which he wakes."
" Is there fear of waking him, do you think ?"
asked the girl, in a whisper, as she drew nearer
to the bed, and looked upon the high, pale fore-
head and remarkably handsome features of the
young soldier. Thou;.di the few days of conlinc-
nieut which he had hullered, and the acute pain
he had endured liy them, had hollowed his cheeks,
yet he was handsome still,
"No," replied the surgeon, to her question;
" he will sleep quite long enough from the opiate,
quite as long as I wish ; and if he should wako
even now, it would not I>e too soon."
" How very slightly he breathes," continued
the girl, observantly.
" Very ; but it is a relief to sec him breathe in
tJiat way," replied the surgeon.
" Stay, did he not murmur something, then ?"
asked tlie maid.
"Possibly," replied the surgeon. "He has
talked constantly during his delirium. Pray, my
good girl, docs he know your mistress very
well '{"
"I think not," was the reply. "But why do
you ask that '."
" Because he seems constantly to dream and
talk aliout her night and day. Indeed she is all
he has spoken of since the height of hi..- fever was
upon him."
"Indeed!" said the girl, musing at the sur-
geon's words abstractedly.
" Have you not heard your mistress speak of
him at all ?"
" Yes, that is, he once did the family some
important service. Do you say that lie talked
of Senorita Isabella in the hours of his delirium ?"
" Yes, and in looking into his dressing-case, a
few days since, to find some lint for his wounds,
I discovered this," said the surgeon, showing the
girl a miniature, painted on ivory with great
skill and beauty. " I think it must be a likeness
of the Senorita Isabella," lontinued the surgeon,
" though I have never seen Iier to know lier but
once."
" It is indeed meant for her." said the girl,
eagerly scanning the soft and delicate picture,
which represented the Senorita Isabella Gon-
zales as sitting at an open window and gazing
forth on the soft, dreamy atmosjthere of a tropi-
cal sunset.
" You think it is like lier ?"
" 0, very."
" Well, I was sure that it was meant for the
lady when I first saw it."
"May I bathe his temples with this Florida
water ?" asked the girl, as she observed the siek
man to move slightly and to moan.
" Yes, it will have a tendency to rouse him
gently, and it is now time for him to wake."
The girl smoothed back the dark locks from
the soldier's brow, and with her hands bathed
his marble-like forehead and temples as gently as
she might have done had he been an infant. The
stimulating influence of the delicate spirits she
was using was most delightful to the senses of
the sick man, and a soft smile for a moment
breathed his lips, as half awake and half dream-
ing, he returned thanks for the kindness, min-
gled with Isabella's name.
The girl bent over his couch to hear the words,
and the surgeon saw a tear drop upon the siek
man's hand from the girl's eyes as she stood
there! In a moment more the soldier seemed
to arouse, and uttered a long deep sigh, as though
relieved from some heavy weight that had long
been oppressing him, both mentally and physi-
cally. He soon opened his eyes, and looked
languidly about him, as if striving to recall his
situation, and what had prostrated him thus.
The girl stepped immediately back from the
bedside, as she observed these tokens, and drop-
ing the rebosa that had been heretofore confined
veil-like to the crown of her head, and partially
screened her features, but she showed most un-
mistakable signs of delight, as she read in the
soldier's eyes that reason had once more returned
to her throne, and that Lorenzo Bezan was once
more rational.
"How beautiful!" uttered the sui-geon, half
aloud, as lie stood gazing at the girl. " If the
mistress be as lo\'cly as the maid, no wonder
Captain Bezan has talked of her in his delirium !"
" Step hither, step hither, he is awake !" whis-
pered the girl to the surgeon.
" And his reason too has returned," said the
professional man, as soon as his eyes rested on
the wounded soldier's face. " There is hope
now !"
" Thank Heaven for its infinite mercy!" said
the girl, with an earnest though tremulous voice,
as she gathered her rebosa about her face and
prepared to depart,
" He will recover now ?" she asked, once more,
as she turned towards the surgeon.
" With care and good nursing we may hope
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
35
so," was the reply of the attendant, who still
looked earnestly into the face of the inquirer as
he spoke.
" Mv lady knew not the pecnniary condition
of Captain Bezan at this time, and desired that
tliis purse mio;ht be devoted to his convenience
and comfort ; but she also desires that this may
not bo knowni to him. May I trust to you, sir,
in tliis little matter V
" It will give me great pleasm-e to keep the
secret, and to improve the purse solely for the
sick man's individnal benefit," was the reply.
" Thank you, sir ; I see yon arc indeed his
friend," she answered, as she bowed low and
withdrew.
Scarcely liad the door closed after the visitor,
before the surgeon, tm-ning hastily once more to
the miniature he had shown, examined it in va-
rious lights, now carefully with a part shaded by
the hand, and now as a whole, and now near to,
and then at a distance.
" I more than suspected it," he exclaimed,
with emphasis ; " and now I know it ; that lady
was Scnorita Isabella Gonzales, the belle of
Havana !"
And so indeed it was. Unable longer to re-
sti-ain her desire to see him who had so infinitely
served the interests of herself and her father's
house, the proud girl had smothered every ad-
verse prompting in her bosom, and donning her
dressing-maid's attire, had thus dressed in hum-
ble costume, stepped into a volante, and ordering
the calesaro to drive to the infantry barracks,
where she knew the sick man was, had entered
as we have seen, under pretext of bringing neces-
sities from her pretended mistress to the wounded
soldier. Her scheme had succeeded infinitely
well, nor would she liave betrayed herself to even
the surgeon's observant eye, had it not been for
that siii(//e tear!
" What angel was that r' whispered the sick
man, to his attendant, who now approached his
bedside to administer some cooling draught.
" You have been dreaming, my dear fellow,"
said the discreet surgeon, cautiously, " and are
already much better ; keep as quiet as possible,
and we will soon have you out again. Here,
captain, drink of this fruit water, it will refresh
you."
Too weak to argue or even to talk at all, the
sick man drank as he was desired, and Iialf closed
his eyes again, as if he thought by thus doing he
might once more bring back the sweet vision
which had just gladdened his feeble senses.
Like a true-hearted fellow as he was, the sur-
geon resolved not to reveal the lady's secret to
any one — not even to his patient ; for he saw
that this was her earnest desire, and she had con-
fided in part to him her errand there. But those
who saw the surgeon in the after part of that
day, marked that he bore a depressed and
thoughtful countenance.
Isabella Gonzales had filled his vision, and
very nearly his heart, also, by her exquisite love-
liness and beauty !
CHAPTER VI.
THE CHALLENGE.
The Tacon Theatre is one of the largest in
the world, and is situated in the Paseo, just out-
side the city walls. You enter the parquet and
first row of boxes from the level of the street, and
above this ai'e four ranges of boxes, besides seats
in the parquet for six hundred persons. The gild-
ings are elaborate and beautiful, and the frescoes
are done by the first Italian artists ; the whole
being brilliantly lighted by an immense chande-
lier in the centre, and lesser ones pendant from
the half moon of boxes, and supplied with gas.
It is a superb establishment, and when it is filled
with the beauty and fashion of the city, it is a
brilliant sight indeed.
It is nearly a month subsequent to the scene
that closed the last chapter of our story, that we
would carry the reader with us within the bril-
liantly lighted wails of the Tacon Theatre. How
lively and gay is the prospect that presents itself
to the eye — the glittering jewelry and diamonds
of the fair senoras and senoritas, casting back
the brilliant light, and rivalled in lustre by the
sparkle of a thousand e3'^es of jet. The gilded
and jewelled fans rustle audibly (what would a
Spanish or Creole lady do without a fan ?) — the
orchestra dashes off in a gay and thrilling over-
t ire, intermingled by the voices, liere and there,
of merry groups of the audience, while the stately
figures of the soldiers on duty are seen, with their
many-colored dresses and caps, amid the throng,
and at the rear of the boxes.
In a centre box of the first tier sits Senorita Isa-
bella Gonzales, with her fat'ier, brother, General
Harero, and a party of friends. All eyes are
turned towards the peerless beauty — those of the
ladies with envy at her extraordinary charms of
person, and those of the young cavaliers and
gentlemen with undisguised admiration at the
picture of loveliness which met their eyes. Isa-
bella herself sat with an easy and graceful air of
unconsciousness, bowing now to the meaningless
compliments and remarks of General Harero,
and now smiling at some pleasantry of Ruez,
who was close to her side, and now again regard-
ing for a moment the tall, manly figure of an
officer near the proscenium box, who was on
duty there, and evidently the ofllcer of the even-
ing. This may sound odd to a rcpul)lican, but
no assembly, no matter how unimportant, is per-
mitted, except under the immediate eye and su-
pervision of the military.
" There is Captain Bezan," said Ruez, with
undisguised pleasure, pointing towards the pros-
cenium box where the young officer stood.
" Yes, I see him, Ruez," replied Isabella,
" and it is the first time he has been out on duty,
I think, since his dangerous and protracted
illness.'^
" I know it is the first time," said the boy,
" and I don't think he's hardly able to be out
now. How very pale he is looking, Isabella."
" Do you think he's very pale, Ruezi" she
asked, turning towards the soldier, whose arm
and sword were now outstretched, indicating some
movement to a file of soldiers on tlie other side.
" He's too ill, I should think, to be out in the
night air."
" One would certainly think so," answered
Isabella.
" His company was ordered out to-night,"
said Ruez, " and though the surgeon told him to
remain in, he said he must be with his command."
" You seem to know his business almost as
well as himself. Master Ruez," said General Ha-
rero, who had overheard the remarks relating to
Captain Bezan.
" The captain and I are great friends, famous
friends," replied Ruez, instantly. "He's a noble
fellow, and just my idea of what a soldier should
be. Don't you think him a fine soldier, General
Harero ?" asked tlic boy, most frankly.
" Humph !" ejaculated the general, " why, yes,
he's good enough for aught I know, profession-
ally. Not quite rough and tough enough for a
thorough bred one, I think," was the reply of his
superior, who was plainly watching Isabella
Gonzales's eyes while he spoke to the boy, and
who was anything but pleased to see how often
she glanced at Captain Bezan.
" I don't know what you may mean by rough
uTid tough, general," said Ruez, with evident
feeling evinced in his voice ; " but I know, very
well, that Captain Bezan is as brave as a lion,
and I don't believe there is a man in your ser-
vice who can swim with such weight as he can
do."
" May be not," replied the general, with as-
sumed inditference.
" Then why say that he's not rough and tough '?
that means something," continued the boy, with
not a little pertinacity in defence of his new
friend.
" There's some difference, let me tell you.
Master Ruez, between facing an enemy with
blazing gunpowder before your eyes, and merely
swimming a while in cold water."
" The very wounds that came so near proving
fatal to Captain Bezan, prove that he can fight,
general, as well as swim," said Ruez, rather
smartly, in reply, while Isabella Gonzales glanced
at her brother with evident tokens of satisfaction
in her face.
" You are enthusiastic in your friend's behalf,"
said General Harero, coldly.
"And well I may be, since I not only owe
him my own life, but that of my dear sister and
father," continued Ruez, quite equal to the gen-
eral's remark in any instance.
" Certainly, you are right, Master Ruez," said
General Harero, biting his lips, as he saw that
Isabella was regarding him with more than ordi-
nary attention.
In the meantime Lorenzo Bezan remained, as
in duty bound, at his post, while many an admir-
ing eye was resting upon his fine figure and
martial bearing. He was quite unconscious of
being the subject of such particular remark and
criticism within the hearing of her he so nearly
worshipped — the beautiful Isabella Gonzales.
Though his heart was with her every moment,
and his thonghts were never off the box, even
where she sat, yet it was only now and then that
he permitted himself to turn his eyes, as though
by accident, towards Don Gonzales and his
daughter. He seemed to feel that General Ha-
rero was particularly regarding him, and he
strove to be less thoughtful of Isabella, and if
possible, more observant of his regular duty. It
is the duty of the officer of the niglit for the oc-
casion, to fill the post during the performance,
where the young officer now stood, as it com-
manded a view of the entire house, and was the
point, where, by an order from him, he could at
once summon a much lai-ger force under arms
than that which under ordinary circumstances
was required. Each division of the guard was
set from this point, therefore Captain Bezan, as
was his custom, remained here durnig the per-
formance.
" It must be very tedious to stay thus stand-
ing just there," remarked Ruez, pointing to
Captain Bezan, and speaking to Isabella.
" I should think so," was the reply of his sis-
ter, who had often turned that way, to the no
small annoyance of the observant General Harero.
" A soldier's duty," replied the general,
"should content him with his post."
It was nearly the middle of the evening's en-
tertainment, when turning his eyes towards the
box occupied by Don Gonzales and his party,
Captain Bezan caught the eye of Isabella Gon-
zales, and at tlie same time observed distinctly
the peculiar wave of the fan, with which a Span-
ish lady invites in a friendly manner the approach
of a friend of the opposite sex. He could not
be mistaken, and yet was it possible that the
belle of all that proud assemblage deigned openly
to notice and compliment him thus in public ?
Impelled by the ardor of his love, and the hope
that he liad rightly construed the signal, he ap-
proached the box from the rear, and stepping to
its back, gave soi^je indication to one of his or-
derlies sufficiently loud in tone to cause Isabella
and her father to turn their heads, as they at once
I'ecognized the voice of tlie young officer.
"Ah! Captain Bezan," said Don Gonzales,
heartily, as lie caught the young officer's eye,
"glad to see you once more with epaulets on —
upon my soul I am."
" Thank you, sir," said the soldier, first salut-
ing in due form his superior, and then bowing
low and gracefully to Isabella Gonzales, who
honored him with a gracious smile.
"You are looking comparatively well, cap-
tain," said Don Gonzales, kindly.
" 0 yes, sir, I am as well as ever, now," re-
plied the offieei", clieerfuUj'.
Ruez Gonzales loved Lorenzo Bezan like a
brother; first, because he had so materially served
him at imminent peril of his own life, and sec-
ondly, because he saw in him just such traits of
character as attracted his young heart, and
aroused it to a spirit of emiilation. "With the
privilege of boyhood, therefore, he sprang over
the seats, half upsetting General Harero to get
at tlie young officer's side, which, having accom-
plished, he seized his hand familiarly. General
Harero frowned at this familiarity, and his face
grew doubly dark and frowning, as he saw now
how closely Isabella was observing the young
officer all the while.
"I trust you find yourself quite recovered,
captain, from your severe illness," said Isabella,
reaching by her father, as she addressed Lorenzo
Bezan kindly.
"I am quite recovered, lady; better, if possi-
ble, than before," he replied, respectfully. "Mas-
ter Ruez has been a constant nurse to me,
thoughtful and kind," he continued, as he looked
down upon the boy's handsome features with real
affection lighting up his own pale face.
Ruez only drew the closer to his side at these
words, while his father, Don Gonzales, watched
both the soldier and his boy with much interest
for a moment, then turning to General Harero,
he made some earnest and complimentary re-
mark, evidently referring to Captain Bezan,
though uttered in a low tone of voice, which
seemed to increase the cloud on the general's
brow.
But the young soldier was too much interested
in gazing upon the lovely features of Isabella, to
notice this ; he seemed almost entranced by the
tender vision of beauty that was before him. At
the sime moment some slight disturbance oc-
curred in a distant part of the extensive building,
which affiarded a chance for General Harero to
turn quickly to the young soldier and say :
" Your duty calls you hence, sir!"
For a moment tlie blood mantled to the offi-
cer's face at the tone of this remark, but suppress-
ing his feelings, whatever they might be, with a
respectful acknowledgement of the order, Lorenzo
Bezan hastened to the quarter from whence the
noise had come, and by a simple direction obvi-
ated the trouble immediately. But he remem-
bered the bitter and insulting air of his superior,
and it cut him to tlic quick, the more keenly too
as having been given in the presence of Isabella
Gonzales.
As he returned from this trifling duty, he ne-
cessarily again passed the box wliere were Don
Gonzales and his party, and seeing Ruez stand-
ing there awaiting his return, he again paused
for a moment to exchange a word with the boy,
and once more received a pleasant greeting
from Isabella and her father. At this but reas-
onable conduct, General Harero seemed nettled
and angry beyond all control, and turning once
more towards Lorenzo Bezan, with a face black ■
with suppressed rage, said:
"It strikes me, sir, that Captain Bezan would
consult his own interest, and be best performing
his ordinary duty by maintaining his post at the
proscenium !"
" I proposed to i-eturn there immediately,
General Harero, and stopped here but for one
moment," said the young officer, witli a burning
cheek, at the intended insult.
"Shall I put my words in the form of an
order ?" continued General Harero, seeing that
Bezan paused to assist Ruez once more over the
seats to his position in the box.
" It is not necessary, general," replied the
officer, biting his lips with vexation.
" I declare, general," said Isabella, unable
longer to remain quiet at his repeated insults to
tlie young officer, " you soldiers are so very pe-
remptory, that you half disconcert me."
" It is sometimes necessary," was the quick
and stern reply, " to be prompt with young and
headstrong officers who do not well understand
their duty, or rather, I may say, who knowing
their duty, fail to perform it," emphasizing the
last part of the sentence.
This was intended not only for the lady's ear,
but also for that of Lorenzo Bezan, who barely
succeeded in commanding Iiis feelings for the
moment, so far as to turn silently away to return
to his post of observation. The effect of the
scene was not lost upon tlie high-spirited beauty.
Isabella had marked well the words and tone of
voice with which General Harero spoke, and she
saw, too, the efi'ect of his words upon the free,
manly spirit of the young soldier, and from that
moment, either intentionall)', or by accident, she
paid no further attention during the whole even-
ing to General Harero, neither turning towards
him, nor even speaking to him at all.
The general, of course, observed this particu-
larly, desiring as he did to stand in the best pos-
sible light as it regarded Isabella's favoi", and
imputing her conduct to the presence of Captain
Bezan, aad the conversation that had taken place
relative to his duty between Captain Bezan and
himself; he hated the young officer more than
ever, as being in some degree the cause of pre-
venting the consummation of hii hopes as it re-
garded the favor of the lady. He had long cher-
ished a regard for the beautiful daughter of Don
Gonzales, for her personal charms, as well as the
rich coffers which her father could boast. As
the reader has already sux'mised, he had been a
constant and ardent, though unsuccessful suitor,
for no inconsiderable period. It will not, there-
fore, be wondered at, that he should have felt
very sensitive upon this point As he passed
Lorenzo Bezan, therefore, at the close of the per-
formance, in going out of the theatre that night,
while still in the most immediate proximity to
Isabella Gonzales, her father, and the party with
them, he took occasion to speak very loud, and
in the most peremptory manner to him, saying :
" I find yon exceedingly lax. Captain Bezan,
as it regards the exercise of your duty and com-
mand. You will report yourself to me, after
morning parade, for such orders as shall be
deemed proper for you under the circumstances,
as a public reproof for dereliction from duty."
" Yes, general," replied the young officer, with
the usual salute to his superior.
Still curbing his feelings, the young officer
contented himself with a kind glance from
Isabella Gonzales, who had overheard the last
act of petty t}Tanny on the general's part, and
for that very reason redoubled her passing notice
and smiles upon Captain Bezan. The officer
marched his company to their barracks, and then
sought the silence and quiet of his own room, to
think over the events of the past evening.
[to be COXTINUEJD.]
36
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A VALUABLE SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED VIEAVS OF NIAGARA FALLS.
NIAGARA RIVER. THE GREAT RAPIDS, TAKEN FROM IRIS ISLAND.
We present herewith a series of views, as
promised in our last week's paper, representing
Nia^^ara Falls in many phases. We arc indebted
for them to the grapliie pencil, and, in part, for
the description, to the pen also of Baron Regis
de Trobriand, who, since his
marriage with a New York la-
dy, has become almost one of
us, and is the charm and pride
of New York society. A fine
artist, musician and critic, an
excellent writer and polished
gentleman, he eclipses, by the
versatility of his talent, the
famous Count d'Orsay. The
Little Ra])ids, which separate
Iris Island from the American
shore, although still more
troubled in their restricted bed,
which is filled with obstruc-
tions, give at least some chance
of safety in case of shipwreck,
as well by the number of small
islands which are scattered
round, as by the bridge which
crosses them. This wooden
bridge, of irregular construc-
tion, is securely fixed, notwith-
standing the shocks it receives
from the waves, upon some
heaps of rocks, enveloped with
thick oak planks. Horses and
carriages pass these without
hindrance ; and this certainly
is not one of the least striking
sights at Niagara. One day not
long shice, at the time this
sketch was taken, some prome-
naders, who were leaning upon
the parapets of the bridge to
admire the fearful turbulence
of the waters, as they dashed against the posts,
were disturbed from their contemplation by dis-
tant cries and a disturbance upon the shore near
the commencement of the Rapids. Soon they
observed a sail boat with two men, which, its sail
to the wind, seemed to sti-uggle against the cur-
rent. The uncertainty of their manceuvres
showed the laborious stniggle of the crew ; but
the spectators of this exciting scene were still
able to hope for the safety of the imprudent fish-
cr,^^- . -
ermen, when the breeze died away and left them
to the sole resource of their oars. The danger
was urgent; they dared not quit theu- oars to
take down the sail, which Avas no longer any-
thing l)ut an embarrassment to them, but they
redoubled their hopeless exer-
tions. But suddenly, after an
almost superhuman effort, one
of the oars breaks ; the boat
^__ turns round, the sail strikes
^^_ against the mast, which is bent,
^^^: and the two unfoi-tunates feel
-■:^^ themselves driven towards the
V5Mr- Rapids. Tumultuous outcries
- -:3-:: are heard from botli shores and
from the bridge, " A boat on
the Rapids !" they shout on all
sides. In the twinkling of an
eye, the village streets were
filled with people moving to-
wards the river, and there was
already a crowd upon the
bridge. The little boat had al-
ready stnick like a cork the
line of the first reef; it had just
stnick a rock half covered by
the waves and broke its mast ;
I the sail, which the stupor of
, ^ the shipwTCckcd ones had pre-
- _ vented them from taking down,
dragging in the current. They
^i saw these unfortunates agitated
with despair, stretching their
ai-ms towards the shore, and by
their frantic gestures, and their
disordered movements, they di-
vined the impnidence caused
-^ by fear, and the loss of all pres-
ence of mind. Ten times the
little vessel appeared to strike
against the i-eef, or to be over-
NIAGAUA RIVER AND AMERICAN FALLS^ NEAR HOG'S BACK.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWIXG ROOM COIMPANIOX.
37
I i/illii All fi 11
NIAGARA FALLS. AMERICAN FALL, TAKEN FEiOM THE CANADA SHORE.
whelmed in the whirlpool, and ten times they saw it re-appear
and rise upon the waves, drawn by an irresistible force. Nevcrtlie-
Icss, they rapidly approached the bridge, and a thousand shouts,
a thousand contradictory counsels at the same moment, prevented
the ship\vrecked ones from comprehending but the horror of their
situation. Yet tlicy had an opportunity to observe the crowd on
the parapets, aud they seemed at last to remember that there was
their last chance of safety. Botli endeavored to remain standing,
as well as the frightful jolts of the boat permitted them, and they
held themselves ready for a last attempt. At this moment, a si-
lence more fearful than a thousand shrieks reigns am.ong all — ■
they hold tlieir breath — all arms arc extended towards those for
whom this minute is a decree of life or of death, liaised up by a
billow, the little boat bounds against a bank of rocks, turns
round several times in a whirlpool, which again throws it up, and
launches it against the posts of the bridge, under which she disap-
pears. With one spring the spectators rush to the opposite para-
pet. The boat, empty and overturned, ran towards the cataract;
but near it struggled a man in the midst of the waves, lost with-
out assistance. They reached out to save the other, who fortu-
nately was rescued from his very perilous situation. The
fii-st bridge built upon the Rapids was situated a little higher up,
aud finished in 1847; it was carried away the following year.
This one, re-built immediately, seems as if it ought to be able for
TUE F^\iL AT SUNSET, AMERICUST SIDE.
a long time to resist the power of the waters. It tenninates at
Bath Island, the name of which sufficiently indicates the design.
There, a second' bridge thrown upon a more contracted part of the
Kapids, forms a continuation to the first, and completes the direct
communication of the American shore with Iris Island. Above
and under this bold work, little islands cro^vn with their verdure
the white shroud of the waters. Old trees, half torn up by the
curi'cnts, lay in ragged abundance awaiting the wave that must at
last carry them away. All around is tumult, agitation, tempest.
The most important of these islands is Prospect Island ; it divides
in two the American Fall, and is attached to Iris Island by a
bridge thrown over a sheet of watci", which forms a centre fall.
Seen from the Canada shore the American Fall docs not appear,
perhaps, quite so sti*iking in effect — the softness of perspective
detracting from their boldness. The tower represented in the
view near Hog's Back, is incessantly assailed by gusts of wind,
clouds of mist, and tlie subterranean shocks which are felt every-
where about the cataracts. Following the direction of the winrl,
it rises above the masses of vapor, or is swathed in their floating
clouds. These vapors, which invariably veil the foot of the Falls,
are nowhere so compact and voluminous as in the centre of the
Horse Shoe. There they assume every form, every aspect, and
every shade. According to the hour of the day and the condi-
tions of the atmosphere, they are seen to rise towards the sky like
a vast column, to spread in disordered
■ ._ masses, to whirl into infinite spirals, or to
'^'^P^B. disperse in floating clouds. Sometimes
- "-- they swell above" the Falls like a sombre
canopy hanging from the arch of the firm-
ament; at another time, they poise lightly
over the rays of the sun, from whicli
they borrow a golden lustre. Some-
times the evening twiliglit envelops tbc
atmospliere of the cataracts in a dust of
"' : liame nowhere else in nature to be found ;
and some hours later, in the midst of
pliantoms of mists, the lunar bow rises
from the waves in the splendor of the
night, and binds witli its enamelled scarf
the light-house, at the foot of which each
broken wave flings, as it passes by, a ra-
diant bouquet of diamonds. What hours
may be passed here and what dreams
they inspire ! For every soul in which
the divine spark is kindled, these hours of
interest are without truce, and these
dreams without end. In vain, after days
of contemplation and evenings of enthusi-
asm, you turn away and slowly seek your
lodging. By day as by night, in vitiil as
in sleep, you belong to Niagara, and Niag-
ara alone. Its giant phantom rises inces-
santly before your eyes ; its solemn \oicq
speaks ever in your cars. In proportion
as all the sounds of liumanitT,- are hushed
_,;, around you, the ceaseless and lofty hymn
of the cataracts seizes upon silence.
Sometimes it mutters like a hundred dis-
-^ tant tlmnders, in one single note, v:ist as
heaven ; sometimes it chants, and modu-
lates ierial harmonies, sweet as the plaints
of the mildest summer wind. It speaks
to your awakened soul ; it cradles your
sleep in dreams. Everywhere at a dis-
tance the earth vibrates and answers by
its tliroes to the disturbance of the at-
mosphere. The bed on which you lie
quivers, the woodwork creaks, the glass
jnrs in the sashes ; and when, awakened
with a start by some dream of tempest,
you spring up to see from what quarter
the bolt is about to fall, the stars ai-e
shining sweetly in the sky, and the flame
of your night-lamp flickers in the midst of
the sonorous waves which the echo of
these strange sounds is bringing to your
car. Human activity, insatiable in its
conquestSjhas begirt Niagara with a circle
of railroads and steamboats ; it has im-
posed upon it the yoke of its bridges, the
shame of its factories, and perhaps the day will come when it will
rob it of its waters, and make them the obedient vassals of indus-
trial despotism ; .and then the traveller will measure with serene
eye and sure step those unknown gulfs which our generation con-
templates from a distance with afjright. We can, of course, say
nothing new of Niagara. One might as well undertake to write
about the sun in the way of novelty, it being one of the great and
wonderful facts of the creation — a wonder of the world. These
timely scenes will be valuable to our readers, inasmuch as it will
find large numbers of them on the very spot and amid the scenes
that we have herewith depicted, while others just about to make
the journey thither, will read and examine these pages with more
than ordinary interest ; and when they shall reach the scene, and
the thunder of the cataract sounds in their ears, they will remem-
ber our Pictorial, and compare the reality with the counterfeit
presentment as given in our pages. Well, we know of no more
delightful pilgrimage than the one thither, or one which seems to
present more of real attraction and unequalled interest than
Niagara. No American, who can afford to travel at all, should
fail to look upon tliis wonder of nature's handiwork. It is almost
the first resort of the foreign traveller, who is then prepared to
visit the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, only second in grandeur
to Niagara. Tlie readers of the Pictorial will remember the series
of illustrations of the cave which we have already given.
taiim:: rock.
33
GLEASON'S nCTORTAL DnAWIXG TcOOM CO^MPANION.
[Written for tJlonHon'rt Pictorial.]
I 'VE BEEN TO THE WOODS.
nV J. 0. BAKKK.
J 'vo been to the woods, tho slifidy wililwoodfl,
Wboro tho I'uiry win^'i'd wphjr.t pliiy i
^\'liuro the lieu 'h on tho wing, and tlio lust aay of Bprlng
Ib clinmsd by Buminer Jiway ;
When) the blackbon-y vine, liko tho ivy, twines
Hound tho fence, and Is overywiioro ficen ;
With itH blossomfl ho white, gleaming in tlic Kunlight,
Liko Huowllakes uiinyling with green.
I 'to leaped o'er the Btream, and Sttt down to dream,
■Nciitli tho boughs of the wide-spreading trees ;
And Tvo thrown ofTniy hat, while enraptured I sat
To catcli evtry breath of the breozo ;
And I gazed on the sky etretchiii;'; clearly on high,
While the feathery clouds I counted ;
In the broad ligbt of day wati-hcd the wild squirrel play.
As the trunk of the oak tree he mounted.
How littlo I thought, when these (lowers I brought,
And cberished them fondly with care.
That the white bud would roam from its dark forest home,
To nestle in fair Ginnie's hair ;
That Ularia would greet the heliotrope sweet,
"With a flash which her bright eyes fired.
And I 'd give Emma, too, with her heart so true,
Tho blossoms she most adn^ired.
0, I 'to been to the wootls, the beautiful woods,
'\\'here I fain would wander ag;iin :
For I \l rather be there in the pure sweet air,
Thau roam through these dwellings of men.
There nature displays to our wondering gaze,
Her charms 'iieath a garland of flowers ;
And the bird folds lus wings, and sweetly sings
A love chant in the shadowy bowers.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ANNIE SELAVYN:
— OR —
THE LOST RING.
BY HARRIET N. HATHAWAY.
Brightly stole the .summer suii-sliinetlirough
tlic .small windows tlint lighted the little apart-
ment oecupicd by the "widow Sclwyn and her
three children ; bnt its rays did not fall upon a
.■-■oft rich carpet, but upon a hard nnpaintcd floor ;
yet they did not .sliine a wliit the less cheerily,
for all that. The room was plainly furnished,
still taste was discernible in its every arrange-
ment. In one corner stood the neatly made bed,
covered with its snow-white drapery; and under
the small glass was an oaken table, polished so
brightly that you could almost see the reflection
of your ftice npon its smooth sui-face, and on it
lay quite a number of prettily though not expen-
.=ively bound books ; while here and there might
be seen a few articles of nice fancy work — such
as tufted mats, clove, and card baskets, small
shell pyramids; and over the mantel stood a
porcelain vase of prettily arranged flowers. Two
beautiful birds, which occupied a cage that hting
before one of tlie windows, filled the whole apart-
ment with their melodious warble, occasionally
pausing as they flitted from side to side of their
gilded prison-house, to peck and twirl the wires
that impeded their flight, as though they would
fain break from their durance and bathe their
wings in their native element.
In a large easy chair sat a woman, who,
though sadly wasted by disease, still bore fi-aces
of more than ordinary beauty; while at a win-
dow, seated on a low stool, was a beautiful girl,
apparently of some eighteen summers, plying
her needle. Swiftly flew hersmall whitcfingers,
as she wrought the many richly-colored flosses
into the costly fabric before her, and bright buds
and green leaves seemed to spring up at her
touch, as though by enchantment. Occasionally
a smile would dimple her fiiir face as she paused
for a moment to admire the effect of the last
touch, and then again she would bend to her
task, if possible with greater alacrity than before.
"Annie, dear," said Mrs. Selwyn, who had
been for some moments drowsing, but had now
awakened, "sewing yet? I should think you
would be weary ; I fear you will make yourself
sick, and then I don't know what would become
of us. Your face is fluslicd, and your eyes look
heavy ; besides, you have eaten nothing since
the morning, for there stands your dinner un-
lasted upon the dresser. Do, child, lay by your
work at once. It really troubles me to sec you
confine yourself so closely. "
" Not quite yet, motlier dear," replied Annie ;
**just let me flnish this one Inid, and then the
work is done, and I'm so glad, for I can take it
to Mr«. Benson to-niglit, and it will bo quite an
agreeable surprise to her ; for though slic want-
ed it very much, she did not think it possible for
ino to comijletc it in so short a time."
The candle was lighted, and around the small
tabic were seated Mrs. Selwyn and her two
younger chihlren — Letta, u dark-eyed girl of
thirteen, and Charlie, a pale-faced boy of eleven.
" I'ast eight o'clock," said Mrs. Selwyn, as
she cast an anxious glance at tlie oM fasliionod
time-piece tliat ticked ujion the mantel, "and
Annie not here yet. I do not know where she
can be so late. Do, Letta dear, run to the street
(h)or, and see if she is anywhere in sight."
Letta had just risen to go, when Annie enter-
ed, her face all radiant with smiles; and without
pausing to lay aside her hat and shawl, she said,
as she seated herself;
" (), mother, you can't think liow delighted
Mrs. Benson was with my work ! and she says
she will give me sewing at lier house for three
long weeks, and only think what a help it would
be to us. You should have that nice new wrap-
per which you have so long needed, and Letta
should have a pair of shoes, and then the poor
child would not have to be laughed at for wear-
ing ragged ones, and Charlie should have that
nice little cap with bright buttons, which he has
so long wanted."
" And what would you have, Annie V said
Mrs. Selwyn, as she gazed with all a mother's
pride upon the radiant face of the fair speaker.
" 0, nothing, mother, just now, for I'm not in
want of anything."
" I'd rather go without the cap, Annie," said
Charlie, as he raised his pale face from his geog-
raphy, "than to have you go away."
"And I'll go without the shoes," chimed in
Letta, " and I'll not eare any more if the girls do
laugh at me, if you'll stay at home, Annie, for
we shall all be so dreadful k)ncsome."
" Take good eare of mother, Letta," said An-
nie, as she lingered at the door, as she was about
to leave for Mrs. Benson's, " and be sure to show
Charlie about his lessons, and do not let him go
late to school ; remember the birds, and don't let
them go hungry, and look out puss docs not get
near enough to them to do them harm."
" 0 yes, Annie, I'll do everything just as you
always have done," replied Letta, who felt high-
\y pleased with the prospect of her newly ac-
quired responsibilities, although she was unfeign-
edly sorry to have Annie leave home.
" Come home often, Annie," said Mrs. Sel-
wyn, "for we shall be lonely — very lonely with-
out you."
" Yes, mother, I will, two or thi*ee times in
the week, perhaps, and then I shall be with you
all day Sunday."
It was with a light heart that Annie, after
having placed her band-box in the pleasant
chamber allotted to her, seated herself at her
sewing, and the thought of the comforts her ex-
ertions would bring to tho loved ones at home,
lent speed to her fingers, and busily indeed did
she ply her needle.
" What beautiful girl is that, sis, who sits sew-
ing in the sitting-room ?" said Walter Harring-
ton, to his sister, Mrs. Benson.
" Annie Selwyn," was the reply ; " and she is
as gentle and good as she is beautiful, and the
most expert creature at her needle you ever saw.
If I could but secure her services, I should think
myself very fortunate, and if she will consent to
stay with me, I shall dismiss Eveline."
Eveline, who was in the next room, heard
these remarks unknown, and a malignant expres-
sion passed over her face as she munnurcd to
herself; " We'll see if I'm to be turned off for
that pert little hussy ! I'm as good as she is, and
as sure as my name is Eveline Morse, I'll put a
stop to this."
Annie knew nothing as yet of Mrs. Benson's
intentions, still she felt thci*e was something for-
bidding in Eveline's manner towards her, but
what it was she could not tell.
Mrs. Benson stood before a table, carefully lift-
ing each article from its place, while each mo-
ment the evident expression of concern upon her
face deepened ; and not finding the oliject she was
in search of there, she commenced looking care-
fully about the carpet, movuig divans, chairs,
ottomans, but all to no purpose. At this mo-
ment she heard Eveline's well-known step in the
hall, and she exclaimed :
" Eveline, Eveline, come here, diild ! can you
tell mc anything of my diamond ring? I'm
(juite sure that I took it oJT last night after my
return fVom the opera, and placed it in the small
box upon the table, and now it is nowhere to Itc
fuund ; do you not remember of seeing mc do
" 0 yes, madam, perfectly well ; for I noticed
particniai-ly the bi'illiant rays reflected from it
upon ilie table-cover as the light struck upon it."
" Well, you have been in the room the most
of the morning; has any one else been in?"
"Kg, 1 believe not; but yes, now 1 remember
that just as I came in, I met Annie Selwyn going
out, and she said as I passed that slie came down
to look for a pattern that she lost, and asked me
if I had seen it anywhere, and then she hurried
up stairs, and the last I saw of her she was in
her room sewing. But, of course, you cannot
suspect her, for I do not think she would do such
a thing, if it was to save her from starving."
" Walter," said Mrs. Benson, to her brother,
who had just called in, " I have something of
imjjortance I would like to say to you, and I
want it for the present to be strictly confidential.
I have lost my diamond ring in a mysterious
manner. I left it upon the table last night when
I retired, and this morning it is missing, and I
am quite sure that no one has been in the room
but Eveline and Annie Selwyn ; and I cannot
with any reason suspect Eveline, for though she
has her faults, I have proved her to be strictly
honest, and would not hesitate at this moment to
trust her with anything in the house ; and, there-
fore, I am forced to think that Annie Selwyn
knows more about this affair than she would
care to tell. It seems hard that my kindness to
her should be thus repaid, and when I look into
her sweet gentle face I can scarce credit my own
suspicions ; and yet it must be so. I have not
mentioned a word of this as yet to Mr. Benson,
for I scarcely dare to, he is so hasty. !Now,
Walter, I want your candid advice."
"I must say, Ellen, that it appears highly
mysterious, but don't be hasty in passing judg-
ment ; remember the future happiness of this
young girl is pending upon it, and I am loath to
think that such a beautiful and innocent exterior
can hide so base a heart, and, in fact, I will not
believe this until there is proof, positive, against
her."
" I feci all this, Walter, as sensibly as you do,
but what can I do ^ If it were right for mc to
do so, I would let it all rest here ; but the ring
Charles presented me on our wedding night, and
he would think 1 was strangely iudiflerent to
take no measures to regain it."
" True, Ellen, and now I think of it, would it
not be best to call the girls at once, and inquire into
the matter ? I will step into the back parlor and
lemain a silent listener to wdiat passes between
you."
Annie and Eveline, in obedience to Mrs. Ben-
son's summons, soon entered the room, and Mrs.
Benson, in a voice trembling with emotion,
said :
" Girls, I am about to speak with you on a
subject that is highly painful to me, and I regret
the urgent necessity that forces me to this step ;
still, duty to myself, as well as to you, compels
me to do this."
" Mrs. Benson," said Eveline, after she had
concluded her story, "I cannot wonder that the
disappearance of your ring seems mysterious to
you ; but, rather than to be in the least implicat-
ed in so disgraceful an affair, I will allow you to
search every article that belongs to me, and pre-
sume Miss Selwyn will consent to do the same
rather than to have this dark suspicion resting
upon us."
Annie had stood silent and almost motionless,
with her face blanched to an ashy paleness ; but
now that she was called upon to speak, she said
in a strangely cold, calm voice :
" Certainly, Mrs. Benson, if it be your wish ;
you ai'C at perfect liberty to look over the few
articles contained in my box ;" and rising, she
led the way to her chamber, scarce conscious of
what she was doing. Mrs. Benson and Eveline
followed, Mrs. Benson half wishing that she had
remained silent ; but she strove to nerve hex"self
for the unpleasant task with the thought that
duty demanded it, at however great a sacrifice of
feeling.
The last article but one had been taken from
Annie's band-box, and Mrs. Benson breathed
more freely, for she was about convinced of her
innocence ; but as she lifted the remaining one,
from its folds fell a small silk purse, and unclasp-
ing it with trembling hand, .she drew fiom it a
small package, and tearing from it the wrapper,
before her sparkled her own diamond ring.
Annie uttered one wild shriek, as her eye
rested upon it, and she would have fallen to the
floor had it not been for the timely assistance of
Eveline. It was some time before the unhappy
I girl was restored to consciousness ; and when
she revived, llic first words that escaped her lips
— all pale and quivering witli tlic intcn.-vjiy of her
anguish — were :
" O my poor, poor mother! how will she bear
this ? 1 fear it will kill her ; but God knows my
innocence, and this thought shall console me."
" Poor canting hypocrite !" muttered Eveline,
while a malignant smile lighted her large dark
eyes, " her piety has come loo late to save her."
We will not stay to relate the conversation
that passed between Mrs. Benson and Annie ;
but simply say that ere the afternoon had closed,
Annie had received her dues, and with a trem-
bling step, and a well nigh breaking heart, was
threading her way through the crowded streets
to her mother's humble dwelling.
"Why, Annie, child, what has brought you
home to-night ?" exclaimed Mrs. Selwyn, as she
entered their small apartment; "we were not
looking for you. But how pale you look, and
I'm quite sure you have been weeping. Do tell
me, dear, what is it troubles you ?"
" O, mother, mother!" cried Annie, as she
threw her unns around her neck, and nestled her
throbbing head upon her bosom, " I must tell
you all, or my heart will surely break. Only (o
think of it, I have brought min and disgrace
upon you — upon us all ! Mrs. Benson has lost
a diamond ring, and she found it in my purse ;
how it come there I cannot tell ; but though
there is no possible way for rae to prove my in-
nocence, yet there is One who knows it. O, how
ungi'atcful she thinks me, thus to repay her many
kindnesses ! and how she wept when she pressed
my hand, just before I left ! and her voice cjuiv-
ered as she said: 'Annie, I pity you from my
heart, I do.' Don't blame her, mother, she can-
not help thinking me guilty; and yet, I would
far rather have died. I wish I could die now,
mother, O, I really do !"
When Annie had concluded her mournful re-
cital, the mother and daughter blent their tears
in silence ; for 0 it is such a luxury to weej) !
such a relief to the aching, overcharged heart !
At length Mrs. Selwyn said ;
"Annie, my child, this is to us a dark, inscni-
table providence ; but there may yet be light be-
hind the cloud. Let us not lose our confidence
in God, for has he not promised never to forsake
those who tnist in hira ? In this trying hour,
human consolation can avail us nothing. Let
us, my child, seek strength and comfort from
above."
The sable curtain of night had fallen around
the earth, and the busy hum of the passers-by had
ceased. Hushed were the strains of mirth, and
sounds of revehy; but in that lonely apartment
of woe and sorrow, might have been seen, at that
late hour, that heart-stricken mother and daugh-
ter low upon their bendedknees, communing with
that Being who never slumbers nor sleeps.
Could Annie's accusers but have seen that aged
mother, and viewed the holy light that irradiated
her face, as she prayed for those wdio had brought
this great and terrible trouble upon them ; could
they have looked upon the beautiful " madonna"
like expression of the upturned face of the fair
young creature by her side, and have heard the
fervent responses that fell from her quivering
lips, they would have felt that she was all too
pure to be guilty of so dark a crime.
The evening after the departure of Annie
from Mrs. Benson's, that lady and her husband
were seated in their luxuriously furnished apart-
ment. At length the gentleman raised his eye
from the paper that he had been perusing, and
gazing silently and intently upon the face of his
young wife for a moment, said :
"Ellen, you look very sad; what troubles
you ?"
" Not sadder than I feel, Charles," was the re-
joinder. " I am thinking about poor Annie Sel-
wyn; I have striven all the evening to banish
her from my thoughts, but her pale sad face is
constantly before me."
" 0, Ellen, you are quite too sensitive. For
my own part, instead of reproaching yourself, I
think you may take considerable credit for let-
ting her off so easily. If I'd had my say about
the affair, she should have been made a public
example, and I'm not sure but in the end it
would have been better for her. She reminds
me of the story of the viper that tumed and
stung the hand of the one who had kindly nour-
ished it. Now, pray do cheer uj), Ellen dear,
and think no more about the girl, for she is un-
worthy of your thoughts."
" Well, God grant that her innocence may yet
be proved," said Mrs. Benson, as she sighed
heavily, and then relapsed into her former mus-
ng mood.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
39
Weeks came and went, but they brought no
token for good to the stricken heart of Annie
Sclwyn ; but each day the shadow rested darker
around her path.
"Mr. Harrington," said a little boy, who had
long resided in the family of Mr. Benson, ad-
dressing Mrs. Benson's brother, Walter, " I have
something I want to tell you, and so I followed
you into the garden. I have thought I would
tell you a g-ood many times, but have not dared
to ; but last week when Mrs. Benson sent me to
carry some patterns to Annie Selwyn — you know
her, Mr. Harrington, the girl who sewed at the
house — she came to the door when I knocked,
and O, how she looked, so white and thin ! and
when she spoke to me, her voice was so low and
sad that it made the tears come into my eyes,
and I had to hurry away without speaking, for
my throat swelled and swelled, so that I could
not say a word, and when I got away where
there couldn't anybody see me, O, how I cried !
and then my throat didn't ache so anymore,
and that day I made up my mind that I would
tell you all, the first chance I could get."
" Well, my boy, go on," said Walter, as he
laid his hand caressingly upon his head, and
smoothed bis damp, dark locks. " Come into
the summer-house, and then we shall be out of
■ sight; and don't be afraid to tell me all."
" Well, then," said the boy; you know while
Annie Selwyn was here, Mi'S. Benson lost her
diamond ring, and it was found in her purse,
and so all the folks believed she stole it. Well,
that morning — are you quite sure there's no one
to hear me. Mi-. Harrington ? — as I passed her
room door, which stood open, I saw Miss Eve-
line bending over her band-box, and when she
found that I saw her, her face at first was mighty
pale, and then red, and as she came towards me,
a small green purse dropped from her hand, and
a ring rolled out of it upon the floor. She picked
it up quick, and then said :
" ' Henry, if you wont tell what you have seen,
I'll give you this silver half dollar ; come, pro-
mise me now, that's a good boy-'
" ' I don't want the money,' said I, * and I
guess I sha'n't promise ;' for I never did much
like Eveline, she was so spiteful.
"'Well, do as you please, Master Henry,'
said she, looking at me so ugly with her great
black staling eyes that it quite frightened me ;
' but if you dare to tell, I'll be the means of your
leaving this house, and that aint all.'
" This made me afraid not to promise, and so
I did ; and when I heard the servants say that
Annie Selwyn had stolen the ring, I thought if
I was only to tell what I knew, it might help to
prove that she did not stejiil it, and I knew I
ought to, but somehow I could not find courage ;
but the other day when I saw her looking so al-
tered, it made me think all about how kind she
was to me, just as gentle as if she had been my
sister, and T made up my mind to tell everything
I knew about the ring, in spite of Miss Eveline."
" I am sorry that you did not come to this de-
termination before. But you may go now, and
mind that you do not breathe a word of this to
any one, until called upon, and then do not be
afraid, but relate the story you have told me,
and I assure you no harm shall come to you, my
boy."
"O, Walter, Walter!" cried Mrs. Benson,
when he had related to her the conversation that
had passed between himself and Henry, "only
to think what that poor girl has suffered ! I will
call Eveline at once, and make her confess all.
Heaven be praised, it is not too late to make res-
titution, in part, to poor Annie Selwi.-n !"
Consternation was written upon Eveline's
every feature, as Henry proceeded, at the request
of Mrs. Benson, to relate the facts in regard to
the ring ; and the girl seeing no chance for es-
cape, at once o^\^led her guilt, and the motives
that induced her to commit the heartless deed.
The lamp burned dimly in the apartment of
widow Selwyn, and its flickering rays fell upon
the pale face of the mother, who was hanging
over the bed on which Annie was lying, tossing
from side to side, and occasionally moaning
piteously.
" Mother," she at length said, " what is to be-
come of us ? I heard you tell Lctt^i you was
burning your only candle, and that yoiu" last
stick of wood was upon the fire. Besides, you
had but a fourpenny loaf of bread in the house."
" This is all true, Annie ; but I comfort my-
self with the thought that our Heavenly Father
* sufFereth not even a sparrow to fall to the
ground without liis notice ;' and docs he not still
' temper the wind to the shorn lamb V I verily
beliei'C this, and I will trust him though, he hides
his fiice from me."
*' Your words sound very sweet and cheering
to me, mother," replied Annie, as she turned
upon her pillow and closed her eyes, and in a
few moments was in a gentle slumber.
A gentle tap at the door soon called Sirs. Sel-
wyn from her post, and hastening to open it, be-
fore her stood Mrs. Benson and Walter Har-
rington.
"Is Annie Selwyn within'?" was the inquiry
that greeted her.
" She is," was the response of Mi's. Selwyn,
as she pointed towards the bed. Mrs. Benson's
heart was full. As she bent over the emaciated
form of Annie, and stood gazing silently upon
the pale face before her, she suddenly unclosed
her eyes, and looking steadily at Mrs. Benson
for a moment, she extended her hand, and a
sweet smile played over her countenance as she
exclaimed :
" It is indeed Mi-s. Benson ! O this is very,
very kind of you !"
For some moments Mrs. Benson's tears fell
thick and fast upon the little thin and almost
transparent hand, resting so confidingly in her
o^Ti, and at length she said :
"Annie, will you, can you forgive me all the
bitter injustice I have unintentionally done you ?
Many and many a sleepless night have I spent
since the unhappy affair in regard to my diamond
ring, thinking of you ; and if ever I raised a
grateful prayer to God, it was that hour that
brought proof of your perfect innocence."
Readily did Annie extend forgiveness to Mrs.
Benson ; and as Walter Harrington sat a silent
and unseen listener to the words that fell from
Annie Selw}Tx's lips, he brushed the tears from
his eyes ever and anon, for he had never wit-
nessed so holy and touching a display of Chris-
tian humility and forbearance.
The widow's prayer that night was as a song
of praise ; and words would be inadequate to
describe the secret happiness that was nestling
in the silent depths of Annie Selwyn's heart.
Firm and unchanging was die friendship that
Mrs. Benson now felt for the sewing girl, hum-
ble and unpretending as she was ; and it was
among the happiest moments of her life when
Walter Harrington claimed her as his wife, and
took her to his own beautiful home — the home
that was now to afford a refuge for 'Mis. Selwyn,
Letta and Charlie; and whenever Annie reverted
to the disappearance of the diamond ring, and
the train of circumstances connected with it, she
would recall her mother's words : " Annie, ray
child, ti-ust in God ; there may yet be light be-
hind the cloud."
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
SONNET.
DY KENNETH SINCLAIR.
A pledge of love and faith, my precious ring.
I wear thee, gift of one who lovea nie well :
Thy beauty, thy worth, my song cannot tell,
For though thou art a tiny little thing,
Affection doth a halo round thee fling.
Thy circlet hath for me a magic spell,
Still closely to my finger shalt thou cling,
■\Vhile thought and memory in my bosom dwell ;
As oft thy golden baud arrests mine eye,
5Iy heart turns back unto the long past day
When first fond love sprang up, 0 ne'er to die I
For her, my youthful friend, so far awaj-,
"Who counts the tedious hours flitting by,
Ere we may meet, to part no more for aye.
POETS m A PUZZLE.
I led the horse to the stable, when a fresh per-
plexity arose. I removed the harness without
difficulty ; but, after many strenuous attempts, I
could not remove the collar. In despair, I called
for assistance, when aid soon drew near. Mr.
Wordsworth brought his ingenuity into exercise ;
but, after several unsuccessful efforts, he relin-
quished the achievement, as a thing altogether
inipractical)lc. Mr. Coleridge now tried his
hand, but showed no more grooming skill than
his predecessors; for after twisting the poor
horse's neck almost to strangulation, and tlie
great danger of his eyes, he gave up the useless
task, pronouncing that the horse's head must
have (jroirn (gout or dropsy) since the collar was
put on ; for he said " it was a downriglit impos-
sibility for such a huge osfrontis to pass through
so naiTow a collar !" Just at this instant a ser-
vant girl came near, and, understanding the
cause of our consteraation, "La, master," said
she, "yon don't go about the work in the right
way. You should do like this ;" when, turning
the collar completely upside down, she slipped
it off in a moment, to our great humiliation and
wondcnnent ; each satisfied afresh that there were
heights of knowledge in the world to which we
had not yet attained. — Cottle's Life of Coleridge.
0 sin, what hast thou done to this fair earth !
Dana.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BIRDS.
BY JOSEPH U. BUTLER.
Ay I I ever have loved those minstrels mid.
And jo3"ed in their music when I was a child ;
When the spring came forth ^rith her early flowers,
And the birds and the blossoms were on the bowers ;
Through the woods and the meadows I wandered away,
AVhere the tall trees were watching the streams at play ;
Where the violet opened its sweet blue eye,
Hid deep in the grass — it was so shy !
Where the primrose looked out from the mossy dell,
On its beautiful neighbor, the sweet blue-bell;
The wild bee was out with its musical fling,
And its troubadour-soQg to the lovely spring.
Away, away, through the wildwood green,
To the meiTy dance of the young May queen ;
irhcrevcr my footsteps can wander free,
The birds sing my welcome from every tree.
Their melody floats on the gentle air,
0 I fancy that spirits fi-om heaven are there ;
Singing on, singing on in innocent mirtb,
To lighten the sorrows and cares of earth.
Beautiful creatures of gladness and light,
With your wiugs of a hundi-ed colors bright ;
\Micrever I wander, wherever I dwell.
Ye are there with your happy songs as well.
Ye build on the tree-top and lowly land,
On the cottage eve and the mansion grand ;
By the stream and the ocean I hear your lays,
In the stilly setting of summer days.
In the solemn homes of the voiceless dead.
Your notes are warbled — your wings outspread ;
Ye flit ,around o'er the pale, cold stone,
Where tlie dead are sleeping still and lone.
Yes, I have loved you from boyhood's hour.
And dear to me yet is the bird and the flower ;
The proud-crested eagle, the lord of the air.
Sits throned like a king on the granite bare ;
He flaps his wings, and with thrilling cry
He mounts where the sun is blazing high ;
On tireless pinions, proudly and grand,
Bold emblem, he, of our native land-
1 love to see his piercing eye,
And list to his fierce and startling cry ;
Birds I ye are beautiful all I see the dove,
0 how soft her eyes, like a maiden's love '■
And even on ocean's flashing foam,
Where the gull and the petrel find a home ;
1 joy to watch them wheel and fly
Over the bursting billows high.
But there 'a a fairy-Uke creature bright,
Who charms me oft «ith its glorious eiglit ;
Its wings are dyed in the hues of heaven.
It seems a gift by spirits given.
lu summer's long day, the music is heard
Of the bright and beautiful hununiog-hird ;
Birds of the forest I ye are happy and free,
Sporting and singing from tree to tree !
Your light hearts know not sorrow or care,
Happy ones of the pathless air ;
But winter will come, and you will depart
Like the cherished joys of the human heart.
Ye will fly to a distant region fair,
And sing your welcome wood-notes there ;
0, when the ■winter of death shall come,
And my heart shall rest iu the silent tomb.
Birds of the woodlands I ye fairy-Uke things.
Over my grave spread your beautiful wings ;
When the wild flowers peep from my couch of sleep,
Your vigils round my slumbers keep ;
And soar and sing in the blessed sun ,
Rejoice that my pilgrimage is done ;
Bid me '■ rest in peace " on the flowery sod,
Then warble an anthem to nature's God 1
THE LAUGHING JACKASS.
He commences, tlien, by a low cackling sound,
gradually growing louder, like that of a Jien in a
fuss. Then, suddenly changing his note, he so
closely imitates Puncli's penny tiumpet that you
would almost swear it was indeed the jolly " roo-
to-too " of that public favorite you heard. Next
comes the j^rolonged bray of an ass, done to the
life ; followed by an articulate exclamation, ap-
parently addressed to the listener, sounding very
like "U what a Guy!" And the whole winds
up with a suppressed chuckle, ending in an up-
roarous burst of laughter which is joined in by a
dozen others hitherto sitting silent. It is im-
possible to hear with a grave face the jocularities
of this feathered jester. In spite of all reason-
ing I could never help feeling that it was m^'^self
he was quizzing! — Oni Antipodes, hy Col. Miindij.
PUMSHMENT IIV SUMATR.\.
The natives put the criminal into a hole, tie
both his liands, and make him kneel do^Mi. The
executioner then stabs him witli a spear on the
left shoulder, the criminal's hands are loosened,
and the executioner jumps upon him, pres.ses
him into the hole and covers him over with earth
instantaneously. If two people fight, and blood
is drawn on the head, the party who has inilicted
the wound pays eight doUai's, a goat, one eabong
of white cloth, and a bundle of seree ; the goat is
sacrificed, and the priests are assembled to pray.
If the body is wounded, the fine is four dollars,
a fowl, yellow rice and seree. For smaller
offences, flogging with a rattan is the usual pun-
ishment.— Anderson.
For most men (till by losing rendered sager).
Will back their own opinions \vith a wager. — Bijroti .
AYARICE Ol'TWITTED.
The case of John Eyre, Esq., who, though
worth upwards of £30,000 was convicted at the
Old Bailey, and sentenced to transportation, was
rendered more memorable by the opportunity
which it gave Junius to impeach the integrity of
Lord Mansfield, who was supposed to have erred
in admitting him to bail. An anecdote is related
of Mr. Eyre, which shows in a stiiking manner
tlie depravity of his heart, and may help to ac-
count for the meanness of the crime of which he
was convicted. An uncle of his, a man of very
considerable property, made his will in favor of
a clergyman, wlio was his intimate friend, and
committed it, unknown to the rest of the family,
to his custody. However, not long before his
death, having altered his mind with regard to
the disposal of his wealth, he made another will,
in which he left the clergyman only £500, leav-
ing the bulk of his large property to his nephew
and heir-at-law, Mr. Eyre. Soon after the old
gentleman's death, Mr. Eyre, rummaging over
his drawers, found this last will, and perceiving
the legacy of £500 in it for the clergyman, with-
out any hesitation or scruple of conscience, put
it in the fire, and took possession of the whole
effects, in consequence of his uncle's being sup-
posed to have died intestate. The clergyman
coming to town soon after, and inquiring into
the circumstances of his old friend's death, asked
him if he had made any will before he died ; on
being answered hy Mr. Eyre in the negative, the
clergyman very coolly put his hand in his pocket,
and pulled out the former will, which had been
committed to his care, in which Mr. Eyre had
bequeathed him the whole of his fortune,
amounting to several thousand pounds, except-
ing a legacy of £500 to his nephew.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO A BRIDE.
BT OWEN G. TTAEBES.
Well, thou art lost — and now the world
Assumes another form ;
The sun that cheered my lonely way,
Is veiled in cloud and storm.
My path was bright, for on it beamed
A ray supremely fair ;
But darkness now is on that path,
The darkness of despair.
The world to me is now a blank,
As when to it I came ;
I pause, and doubt, if on its face
I ought to write my name.
All things seem new, and I must now
Forget the painful past;
And now begin the new career,
Where fate my lot has cast.
I know thou canst not soon forget
The tie that bound our souls ;
And it will stronger bind us yet.
Though sundered as the poles.
And though another press thee now,
Thy thoughts will sometimes turn
To him in whose unchanging heart
31ore during feelings burn.
A CHARACTER.
" Old Bumblebee " was the cognomen of Mr.
T., of Newhuiyport. He gained the title from
the fact of his catching a bumblebee one day as
he was shingling his barn, and iu attempting to
destroy the insect with his hatchet, cut oft' the
ends of his thumb and forefinger, letting the in-
sect go unharmed. Other misJiaps happened to
the old codger, on the same barn. In one of his
abstractions, lie shingled over his spare hatchet ;
and cutting a small aperture in the building to
let a little daylight in, this man actually set in a
wooden pane, as being economical and not like-
ly to he broken ! Uncle T., in one of his obliv-
ious freaks, nailed his left ai-m so firmly betwixt
two boards of a fence he was putting up, that he
had to call for help to get extricated from his
self-imprisonment. He once put a button on the
gate instead of the post. But the rarest freak of
all was, when he ran tlirough the streets witli
his hands about three feet asunder, held before
him, begging the passers-by not to disturb him,
as he had got the measure of a doonvay with him !
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
YIELD NOT TO SADNESS.
BY VriLLIAH T. HU.SEE.
When care's grim spectres round thy pathway flit,
And hope obscures her soul-enlivening ray ;
0 do not with dejected spirit sit,
And breathe in plaints the lagging hours away.
For all must through affliction's ordeal pass.
Must scale life's barriers, though cragged and high ;
Must onward wend o'er highl.and and morass,
Yet ye need not emit the h.Tpless sigh.
List 1 birds are wartiling in yon sylvan glen,
And gorgeous flowers are carpeting the earth ;
Raise high hope's standard, and thy heart shall then
Participate in joyousness and mirtb ;
0 be not sad, for nature aU rejoices.
And teeming plenty crowns the vale and lea ;
Hark! hark 1 the groves resound with sweetest voices,
0 how, 0 how can ye unhappy be \
All our trials and soitows have elements of
good in them ; hopeful features which smile upon
us in gentle reproof of our unbelief and discour-
agement. Now and then, as the swift shuttle
passes, we catch glimpses of bright threads weav-
ing themselves into the dark web of our affliction.
4i)
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING llOCWI COMPANION.
EXTElUOil VIEW OF TIIE UNITED STATES MINT, PHILADELPHIA.
UNITED STATES MINT, PinLADELPIIIA.
On this and the following page, we give some
very fine scenes descriptive of the United States
Mint at I*hiladclphia. They are given with
great accuracy and beauty by oui- artist, Mr.
Devereaux. Upon the last page are also two
other engi'avings, by the same artist, represent-
ing the Coin Press, and the beautiful steam en-
gine mentioned below. Tlic United States Mint
was founded in 1790, and the, business of coining
commenced in 1793, in the building occupied at
present by the Apprentices' Library. It was re-
moved in 1830 to the fine building it now occu-
pies in Chestnut street above Olive street. The
edifice is of white marble, and the north front
opposite to Penn square is 123 feet long, with
a portico 60 feet long, of six Ionic cohimns,
and the soutli front on Chestnut street has a
similar portico. Since the enormous influx of
gold from California, the United States Mint has
become an object of more than common attention
and interest, and tlie place is usually filled with
visitors, watching the various processes which
the metal goes through before it comes out a
finished coin. The ma-
chinery and apparatus
by which tliese are ac-
complished are of the
most complete and per-
fect character. The
rooms in wliich the
smelting, refining and
alloying are done, are
spacious apartments, in
which a large number
of workmen are cm-
]jloyed. Heaps of the
rich ores are to be seen
laying around, as they
were extracted from the
mines, or gathered in
dust from the sands of
the mountain streams
of California. Bars of
the pure metal, repre-
senting many thousand
dollars in value, arc
passing through hands
which, like those of
Midas, seem to turn
what tlicy touch into
gold. The heat of this
place is insufferable ;
fires glow witli the in-
tensity of those in u
foundry ; the men are
as smutched and dust-
begrimmed as those in
a smithery ; there is a
suffocating sensation of
hot air, steam and per-
."ipiration penetrating
the atmosphere, which
is anything but pleasant
to experience, when the
thermometer is palpita-
ting under a Hummer
temperature. Crucibles
arc handled witli iron
tong6 and cotton mit-
tens, the metal is shaped into bai's and then re-
duced to the requisite fineness. All this takes
place in one apartment. In another, there is a
most beautiful steam-engine [sec last page],
which drives the rolling and stamping machinery.
This engine is of one hundred horse power, and
works the rolls, draw-benches, and cutting press-
es. It is called a steeple-engine, and has two
cylinders. It is worked by boilers forty feet in
length, and forty inches in diameter, which also
works a ten horse and five horse engine, in the
separating and cleaning apartments. This main
engine is of the most elegant workmanship, pol-
ished like a piece of cutlery, and works without
the least perceptible jar. ITrom this room the
visitor walks into that where the rolling machines
are at work, turning out the metal to the proper
degree of thickness which each particular de-
nomination of coin requires. The metal is oast
into ingots 14 inches in length, and about 5-8ths
in thickness ; they are then rolled to very near the
proper thickness, when they are passed through
the draw-benches to equalize them ; the strips
are then cut at the presses ; these presses cut out
from two hundred to two hundi*ed aud sixty a
minute. There are fourteen men employed in this
room — two for each pair of rolls. The pieces cut
then pass to the Adjusting Room. Here each piece
is weighed separately and adjusted witli a file.
Light and inipcrrcct pieces are re-melted. There
are fifty-four females employed in this room.
The pieces are then taken to the Milling and
Coining Eoom. Tlicre are from two hundred
to four hundred milled in a minute, according
to their size. In another apartment the coins
are cut witli a punch the desired si-ce and then
stamped. The coins are placed by a person
seated at tlic machine, in a perpendicular tube,
down which they descend, one at a time, being
seized as tlicy drop, by a part of the machinery,
which pushes the coin under the stamp, whence
it falls under the machine into a glass-covered
box. This part of the process used in former
years to be performed by a press, which still re-
mains in tlie buikling, worked by a lever and
screw, requiring eight men to laboriously work
at it ; now the process requires scarcely any
manual labor but handling the pieces of coin.
ADJUSTING ROOM OF THE UJNITED STATES MINT, ITHLADELITIIA.
The rapidity with which the pieces are executed
is surprising — being at the rate of from seventy-
five to two hundred per minute. Cents, dollars,
eagles, double eagles are turned out with equal
facility, the process being the same in all. Some
idea of the extensiveness of these operations, and
of the metalliferous fecundity of the gold pos-
sessions of the United States, may he had, when
it is stated that in one mouth, lately, nearly
three millions of pieces, gold, silver and copper,
were coined, and that nearly four millions in
value are coined eveiy month. In addition to
the other attractions of the Mint, there is a most
extensive cabinet of coins, ancient and modem
(Roman, Greek, Chinese, European), which is
one of the greatest of curiosities, probably to be
met with no wliere else in the country. The offi-
cers of the Mint are polite and attentive to visit-
ors, and endeavor to make their visit one of ia-
stiTietion as well as amusement. It is under the
very effective management of Mr. Dale, the
director. We have more than ordinary satisfac-
tion in presenting so very fine a series of engrav-
ings as those we give of the U. S. Mint in the
present number. They
are critically correct,
and our readers may
i-ely upon their truthful-
ness, as our artist, Mr.
Devereaux, passed no
inconsiderable period of
time in making the ne-
cessary drawings for the
series, within the walls
of the Mint, assisted by
the gentlemanly and ur-
bane director and ofli-
cers of the institution.
The subject is a national
one, and of interest to
all, and is of a character
such as we shall con-
tinue to give from time
to time in the pages of
the Pictorial. Scenes
thus depicted by a series
of good engravings, have
additional interest and
value from the thorough
manner in which the
artist is enabled to treat
the subject. Any of our
readers who may now
happen to visit Phila-
delphia, will go to the
Mint under standingly,
and can there test the
ti'uthfulncss of our illus-
trations, and at the same
time doubly enjoy the
subjects of investigation
in this interesting insti-
tution,from having been
hereby familiarized with
the operations, the ma-
chinery, and the appear-
ance of the internal eco-
nomy of the Mnit — one
of tiie largest in the
world.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL DRAWING ROOM COIMPANION.
41
ST0R3I AT SEA.
Tlie following very
good description of a
Htorm at sea, and esti-
mate of the height of
waves, is coramiinicated
to the Scientific ^Vmcri-
can, by C. E. M. Wall ;
" Seeing an account a
few days ago, in the
Jonrnal of Commerce,
about the height of
waves, etc., it at once
appeared to me the in-
formation was not de-
rived from the proper
\ source to be published
\ in this enlightened age,
for no person of tru3
science would assume
to know and give the
depth of waves alone,
without giving the ter-
rific action and appear-
ance of the ocean, when
the tempestuous blasts
and billows are at their
heights, the latter being
far the most magnificent
and interesting. There
is no class of seamen
more exposed or expe-
rienced than whalemen,
in rough weather and
stormy seas; other class-
es seldom 'lay to' long
enough to weather out
a storm, which com-
monly lasts three day?,
in seas tei-med ' outside
of land.' The first day
of the gale there is a
short cutting sea, with
numerous white caps
seen in every direction,
a spray now and then
dashing violently over the bows, and appearing
very much like a severe storm on Lake Erie.
The taking in of light sails, lowering of yards,
lashing and securing boats, bolting down the
hatches, etc., are characteristics of the first day.
Before dawn of the second day, the large sails
are all furled, and the storm sails set, which con-
sist of two or more small sails, one at each mast,
close to the deck, which serve to keep the ship
steady. The ship is now Maying to,' the helm
is lashed, and the watch on deck takes refuge on
the weather quarter. The seas now assume every
variety of shape, the entire surface being cov-
ered with white foam, tossing, boiling and hiss-
ing, every sea threatening to overwhelm the ship,
and frequently appearing on a level with the
topmast head, and cannot be less than forty feet
high. The best sea legs on board cannot now
cross the deck without grasping and holding
with the hands. The gale is now blowing so
severely that an old sailor told me I could not
go upon the weather rigging without creeping
between the flaws of wind ; here was every
chance for exerting strength with hands and feet.
I tried, and found his statement correct. With-
PKESSING AND IMILLING llOOJM OF THE U. S. MtNT, PHILADELPHIA.
out giving any account of the terrors or dangers
of each night, or of wearing ship, I wmU go to the
third day, the wind continuing from one point.
The seas at this time are running parallel with
each other, and are much heavier and broader
than the day before, being perfectly smooth, of a
deep blue color, and very uniform, many of
them forming one vast billow, reaching from ho-
rizon to horizon, and running at the rate of
twenty miles per hour. About every eighth sea
is much larger than the rest, and assumes a lofty
and tcn-ific appearance, and finally curls and
breaks, actually overtaking the billow in advance,
and using it as a ground floor to roll upon, leav-
ing a white scroll of foam across the ocean far
as the eye can reach, and making a noise like
the roaring of distant thimdcr. This sight has
never yet been pictured by the hand of an artist ;
a skiif may now ride in perfect safety on the in-
termediate seas, but the staunchest ship ever
made cannot get a blow from one of these bx-eak-
ers, without getting more or less injured.
During a voyage of twenty-three months in.
the ship Candace, of New London, wc were in
several of these storms, and only on one occasion
one of these seas broke square on us. We were
rising out of the trough of the sea, when the
breakers, as it were, dropped down on us ; the
third mate gave the alarm — the top ridge was
seen curling do^vn, midway between the fore and
fore-topmast yards, a distance of twenty-five feet
from tlie deck. The sea, pressing downwards,
waslied the men in a wedging fonn, some under
coils of rigging, others between the pumps and
behind the spars, and some with difficulty with-
drew themselves from the crevices they had been
forced into. The sea broke the starboard bul-
warks fore and aft, breaking fifteen white oak
stanchions, ten inches square, short off, parting
the iron of the main chains, sweeping two valu-
able whale boats, davits, lashings and all, by the
board, and leaving us a wreck for several days.
Counting the body of the ship ten feet out of
watei', and that it had risen five feet from the
bottom of the trough, it would leave a sea of
forty feet. During the same voyage in the In-
dian Ocean, we saw a large class merchantman
to the leeward of us ; it was not then blowing
sti'ong, but a heavy sea was running ; our cap-
tain chose to run down and speak her; she was
sailing on the wind and
starboard tack; when
getting on a line with
her course we luflcd on
the larboard tack, which
left her on our starboard
one point, and about
six hundred yards dis-
tant. Both ships were
now nearing each other,
and both settled down
in the trough of the sea
simultaneously ; the
merchantman, evident-
ly alarmed at our near
approach, ran off two
points ; this caused her
to follow nearly in a line
of the ti'ough of the sea,
and her entire masts
were completely out of
sight at least twenty
seconds. Both ships
came up side by side,
one sea distant, and
spoke each other. The
merchantman was full
rigged, having royal
masts and sails set; her
mast, from the top of the
main royal, was judged
by the officers and crew
to be ninety feet to the
main deck ; her body
out of water ten feet,
her masts inclined 4.^
degrees, would leave a
sea of fifty feet. This
caused much wonder,
even to the old sailors,
it being a sight seldom
seen, and was witnessed
by the whole crew of
thirty-four men, at the
dog watch, at six o'clock
in the afternoon. This
sight cannot be witnessed only on like occasions,
which of course are very rare ; but still will prove
that the height of waves is sometimes as great as
luis been represented by those who have been
placed in scenes of extraordinai-y tempest."
[See p. 40 for description.]
THE WAR IN SOUTH AFRICA.
An English soldier writes from South Afiica :
" We have fought twenty-three days out of thir-
ty-seven, and rested the remainder. The ground
the enemy occupies consists of twenty square
miles, very large rocks and ravines, and heavy
bush. We are almost naked, by our clothes be-
ing torn off om- backs in scouring through the
bush. We have to mend them with pieces of
sheepskin with the wool on them, or from our
comrades' clothes who are killed in the bush. If
you were to see us you would not know what
we were — red jackets mended with black cloth,
and patches of all descriptions, and our faces
black with the hot-burning sun ; but thanks to a
kind Providence, we have plenty to eat. My
comrade was wounded the last day we were fight-
ing. He was shot through both legs above the
knees, but he is doing vicU.." English paper.
GENEKAL PRESSING AKD CUTTLSfG ROOM OF THE UNITED STATES MINTj PHILADELPHIA.
[See p. 40 for UeBcnption.]
42
GLEASON'S I'lCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gleoflon'B Pictorial.]
TO ANNA.
BY ELLEN LOUIHE CllANDLKll.
I '11 sing tlico a song, HWcot Annn,
Now tho fitura nre Bliiniiig bi-l;,'ht,
Ami tho moon goes Biniliiig by iiio,
With a diiliqucscont liglit ;
Ana thu ftiiricrt ou tlio liill-Kiao,
Antl tho brownies in tho ilull,
Aro tripping along to the muHio
Of the valloj-lily bt;!!—
Now tho HUtiny day has roHtoJ
Her lieiid ou the night's soft breawt,
And tho ungels aro climbing the cloud-Htairs,
That hang in the misty west ;
And the silver threads of the moouliglit,
Like an infant's tresses, swcci)
All over tho glade's green bosom,
And over tho dingle deep.
I '11 ping theo a song, my Annn,
Of the days all golden and fitir,
When my childish hands were wreathing
Fresh buds in tliy curling hair.
I '11 whisper thee old-time warbhngs,
That our young lips used to praise,
Till thy very heart goes thrilling
With the love of old-thnc days ;
And thy voice shall murmur blessing,
In words that are dear to me,
"With the light in thy dark eyes gleaming,
All sunny and fair to see.
And I'll pray that the angols love thcu,
And keep thee, my darling fair,
Till the light of the heavenly sunshine
Shall gleam in thy soft, brown hair.
^ ^»m^ >
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial]
THE HAUNTED MAN.
A SUSTGULAR STOEY.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
In tlie spring of 1842, 1 chanced to be in Mes-
sina, a seaport of Sicily ; and -while there I was
invited to visit the extensive vintage of D i
& M 7.0. Tlieir location ivas in a pleasant
valley some three miles back from the city, and
beneath a portion of their grounds was extended
a large wine vault, embracing an area of nearly
two acres. After accompanying M zo, the
junior partner, through the long vine-arbors and
orange groves, we descended to the vault, and
after passing nearly half the length of one of the
pipe tiers, we came to a desk where a man was
writing.
"There is one of your own countrymen," said
M zo, " and he will accompany you through
the vaults."
My conductor called to the man. who, quickly
dropping his pen, stepped down from the stool
and came forward. He was employed as a clerk
in the exporting department, for the purpose of
filling up bills, invoices, etc., for the American
and English merchants.
" You will find him a strange sort of a man,"
whispered M zo, " but he is, notwithstanding,
a good fellow."
H , for so my companion had called him,
was a tall, well made man, apparently on the
better side of forty, and he had a pleasing, intel-
ligent look. His hair, Avhich was quite luxm'i-
ous, was almost white, and about his counte-
nance there were evident marks of suffering.
His eyes, when he first gazed upon me — which
was with a fuitive, trembling glance — had an in-
expressible look of wildness in them, and a cold,
fearful shudder seemed to run through his frame.
Gradually he grew more composed, and as he
showed me around among the pipe-flanked ave-
nues, casting his huge lantern licre and there to
show me the ages of the various wines, he began
to talk with considerable freedom, though he yet
betrayed a strangeness of manner, a sort of flar-
ing of voice and gesture, that could not fail of
exciting my curiosity. A casual observer, who
might have judged only from his appearance,
would have thought him slightly insane ; and
even I felt a conviction that his mind was not
exactly cotnme il faut, or at any rate, not quite
comme je fun.
"Do you reside in New York .'" he asked, as
we stopped for a moment at the extremity of the
vault,
I told him that I did not belong there, though
I had spent part of the winter and the spring of
1841 and '42, in that city.
"I have a wife in that State somewhere, and
perhaps a child, but I have not heard from them
for a long time."
I noticed that he wiped his eyes with the sleeve
of his linen jacket as he spoke, and be turned
away, an though to hide an emotion that might
he tliouglit unmanly.
" Does she not write to you ?" I asked.
*' She knows not where I am."
" Do 1/011 not write '("
" Mi-f lie uttered, with a sudden Ktnrt, a cold
tremor shaking hi.s frame tlie while, "Ah, sir, I
dare not trust my HU])crscriplion, nor my auto-
grai)h, in — "
He hesitated — looked at me wildly i'ur an in-
stant, and then stai-ting on, he began to enlarge
on the different ages, qualities and vintages of
the wine. Twice I tried to liring him back to
the subject he had so abruptly left, but it was of
no avail. At lengtb we came ai'ound to the
stejis that led up to the suifacc of terra firma.
The sun hail already set, and the stars were be-
ginning to sparkle in the blue arch above us.
H remarked that he had no idea it was so
late, and added, witli the happiest smile I had yet
seen him express, that he supposed it was be-
cause he had had such pleasant comi:)any, at the
same time assuring me that I was the only
American with whom he had held a social con-
verse for over a year. As he was about to close
the vault for the night, I proposed he should ac-
company me to my cafe, take supjicr with nic,
and then walk wirh me about the city. It was
some time before he would consent to this ar-
rangement ; and while he was considering upon
it, I could sec that there was an internal struggle
of no small moment. He appeared to me not
unlike a man who is debating whether he shall
attack a den of angry rattlesnakes. After a
while, however, he consented to go, though
there was a marked reluctance in his manner.
He extinguislied the light in his lantern, gazed
up and down the long avenues to see that no
spark of fire had accidentally been dropped, and
then he followed me up the broad stone steps,
and having secured tlie doors, he signified that
he was at my service. The direct way to my
cafe, which was on the broad quay, lay through
the heart of the city ; but my companion insisted
upon taking a more circuitous route, and as he
led the way, he took me tlirough the narrowest
and darkest streets and passages he coidd find.
" Ml-. C ," said he, as we were emerging
from one of these dark passages, "there was an
American merchantman arrived yesterday from
New York, and I know not who may have come
in her. It is for this reason that I avoid the
public places."
In an instant the idea flashed upon me that
my companion was a convict, or, at least, a
criminal, who had been guilty of some heinous
crime in his native country, and was consequent-
ly afraid of detection. The more I thought of
it, the more I became convinced that such was
the fact, and I could now account for his strange
conduct in this fear, and in the gnawings of a
guilt-burdened conscience. Yet, he was a wel-
come companion for all that, and I felt sure that
repentance had been full and ample.
H gazed furtively about as we entered the
cafe; and, at his request, I ordered supper in a
private room. He laughed and chatted freely,
and the more I saw of him the more I liked him.
After we had finished our meal we started on
the proposed walk. Itwas nearly eleven o'clock
when we thought of returning, and as we were
passing the small church of St. Joseph, I noticed
that the doors were open, and that in the centre
of the church there was a sable bier, around
which were burning a number of wax tapers. I
proposed that we should enter and look for a
moment at the corpse. H made no objec-
tions. In one of the confessionals near the door
sat an old monk, and very naturally I asked of
him who it was that rested upon the bier, know-
ing that most of the interments from tins church
were in behalf of charity.
The monk informed us that it was the body of
a man who had come on shore from the Ameri-
can ship that came in the day before. He had
been very sick and weak when he left the ship,
but he was determined to land, and no persua-
sion of the crew could alter him in his determi-
nation. He had reached the quay, but he lived
not to cross it. 'The kind monks of St. Joseph
had taken charge of the body.
We slowly, reverently approached the sombre
scene. Upon the breast of the deceased were
the various articles that had been found in bis
possession, consisting of an apparently well-filled
purse, a pocket comb, a watch, and a heavy
double-barrelled pistol, the latter of which the
monk informed us had been found loaded with
extraordinary charges of powder, balls and buck-
shot. I gazed upon the face of the dead, and
even in its sunken, mai-blc-like rigidity, there
was a startling expression of intense resolution.
as though Home fell purpose, wliicli even death
had not subdued, sllll dwelt in the hushed bosom.
As I still gazed I hejird a quick, slificil cry at
my side, and ou turning I was half frightened by
the expression of my companion's countenance.
His eye-bulls seemed actually starting from tlieir
sockets, his mouth was half open and fi.xcd, his
hands, which were extended towards the corse,
treml)led like vil)ratiiig harp-strings, aiul his very
hair seemed fretful. He moved nearer towards
the head of the dead man — looked aucjtlier mo-
ment into that ]mllid face, and then sinking upon
his knees, he clasped his hands towards heaven,
" Great God, I thank thee, I thank thee !
thanks ! thanks ! thanks !" he ejaculated in fran-
tic tones, and then he arose and looked once
more upon tlie features of the corse. Then his
eyes wandered to the heavy pistol that lay upon
the sable pall, and while a cold shudder passed
through his frame he took me by the arm.
" Come, come," said he, " come wilh me to
your cafe, and I will tell you a strange story."
Without heeding the mute astonishment of the
monk, I followed H from the church, and
ere long we were seated upon a balcony that
overlooked the beautiful Straits of Messina. My
companion"'s nerves bad become somewhat com-
posed, and I could see that there was an intense
satisfiiction depicted in every lineament of his
countenance.
" Mr. C ," he commenced, " I can tell you
my story in a few words. Nearly twenty years
ago, I fell in with a young girl in the city of
New York. On my part the acquaintance soon
ripened into a love of the warmest and most ai--
dent kind — and it was as pure as it was ardent;
and she professed the same feeling towards me.
I was then well to do in the world, being a clerk
in a heavy mercantile house, and ere long itwas
aiTanged that we should be married. About a
week previous to the time set for this ceremony,
I accidentally heard my affianced bride use some
most obscene and profane language in company
with one of her female acquaintances. You can
judge of my feelings under those circumstances
much better than I can describe them. I turned
awa}-- sick at heart, and on the very next day I
received indubitalile proofs of the ntter infidelity
of the object of my affections, and I at once
broke off the engagement. Upon being ques-
tioned by some of my companions as to the
cause of my course, I unguardedly, and perhaps
foolishly, revealed to them the whole secret.
The story, as having come from me, got wings,
and it soon spread among the lady's acquaint-
ances.
" A few days afterwards a young man about
my own age, called into the store and came up
to the desk wdiere I was writing. His hands
were nervously clasped together, and his face
was livid with rage. He told me I bad forever
blasted the reputation of his sister — that I had
faithlessly deserted her, and left her broken-
hearted. I attempted to reason with him, but I
might as well have reasoned witli a lightning
bolt. He demanded instant satisfaction, and
proposed that I should accompany him over on
to the Long Island side and fight him. My nat-
ural timidity would have prevented me from
complying with such a request ; but I had also
higher scruples, and of comse I refused. Then
he called me a base coward, and swore that lie
would have my life. I complained of him before
a justice; he was apprehended, publicly tried,
fined, and placed under bonds to keep the peace.
"After that I met him in Broadway. He
stopped me and whispered in" my ear. He
swore by the most fearful oath a man could
lake, that he would have my life, and that he
would hunt me through the world till he had ac-
complished his purpose, I knew that he meant
just what he had said, and fear began to take
possession of my bosom. Many times I discov-
ered that he was dogging me about, but I always
managed to keep among a crowd as I walked
along the streets, I dared not bring him to
trial again, for I miglit fail to make out a case,
and it could only tend to incense my enemy
still more. At length I feared to walk the
streets, for one night, as I was passing a dark
alley near the head of Cherry Street, I heard
the report of a pistol close to me, and a bullet
passed through my hat. A watchman was
quickly on the spot, but nothing was to be found.
I Icnew who fired that pistol, but I had no evi-
dence ! I felt that my life was not safe in the
city, and secretly I moved to a small town in
the western part of Massachusetts, where I en-
gaged with a dry goods dealer. Here I took to
myself a wife ; but I had not been married over
a month, when I saw my enemy pass the door of
the store and look in. He saw me, and he
pointed his finger at me. The cold sweat stood
in huge droj)s upon my bi'ow, and my fears
came back more powerfully than ever. At
night I contrived to get my employer to go
liomo with me, and on the way I heard low,
stealthy stcjjs behind me. I knew that I was
dogged ! ' You are mine ." I heard a voice pro-
nounce, as I turned into my yard ; and as I
turned, I saw a dusky figure moving off beneath
the shade of the roadside trees. The next morn-
ing I sent word to my employer that I was sick,
and I kept the house all day. I explained all
to my wife, and she agreed to go with me wher-
ever I wished. Several times during that day I
saw my sworn murderer pass the house and
gaze intently up at the windows, but he did not
see me.
" I got a boy to go to the stable and procure u
horse and wagon, and, after dark, to take it
around to a back road, nearly a mile distant
from the house. My wife and myself tied up
such articles of clothing as wc could carr}', and
taking all my money with me, we stole out
through the back garden, and gained the cross
road in safety. Tlie wagon was there, and hav-
ing entered it, the boy drove us off at a good
speed. Just at daylight we reached a tavern
where a stage coach was almost ready to start,
and the boy returned, having first promised to
keep inviolate the secret of my flight. The stage
was bound to Lenox, which place we reached
before dark. From thence I went to Hudson,
crossed the North River, and made my way to
the western part of New York, where I bought
me a small cottage.
"In less than a year my enemy found me
again, and I saw him standing in fi-ont of my
house. He looked wild and haggard, but I
could see that there was an iron determination
upon his features. One night I heard a grating
against one of my windows, and on the next
moment my dog, a powerful Newfoimdland,had
sprang from his kennel, I dared not go down,
for I knew too well the cause of the disturbance.
The noise soon ceased, however, and on the
next morning, I found my dog laying beneath
the window — dead ! The villain had been afraid,
probably, that the noise might have disturbed
the neighbors, and he had for the present desist-
ed from his murderous intent. I made arrange-
ments with my wife to keep the house, and tak-
ing a small sum of money with me, I fled from
my home !
" I went to New Orleans, and there m}' enemy
at length followed me ! For three years I skulk-
ed from place to place, the very embodiment of
terror and weakening fear ; but go where I would,
that man was sure to haunt me. Six different
times he fired at me with his pistol, and twice he
wounded me. Our two lives seemed now to
have hut one end and aim. His was to take
mine, and mine, to escape his fell revenge ! I
became almost a walking skeleton — the falling
of a leaf would startle me. At length I got a
chance to go to England. I was in London,
standing one day at the door of an ale-house,
when — O God ! — I saw my life-hnnter pass. He
was as pale and sunken as myself — restless and
nervous ; hut his black eyes gleamed like balls of
fire. H; did not see me. I hmried down to the
Thames, took a lighter as far as Gravesend, and
there I was fortunate enough to find a barque
bound directly for the Mediten'anean. I got a
passage in her, and was at length landed in thiy
city, where I have been «ver since, I have re-
gained somewhat of my former health and spir-
its, though that same dread fear has not failed
to haunt mc.
"My enemy must have found me out, even
here; but, thank God, he has passed from the
power to harm me more. A hand mightier than
bis has stricken him down. TTiat iras hi.-i cold,
powerless corse that we saw to-night in the chinch !
If my wife still lives I shall see her again."
******
H did meet his wife again, for I saw them
both at the AVliite Mountains when I was last
there. It was some time before I could recog-
nize, in the portly gentleman who accosted me,
the poor haunted man I had met in Messina ;
but when I realized the truth, I grasped him
warmly by the hand, received an introduction
to his Avifc, and soon wc three were straying
away along the banks of the beautiful Ammo-
n 00 sue.
Fnith loves to lean on time's destroying arm,
And age, like distance, lends a double chnrm.
O. 11'. Holi,u'.
GLEASOX-S PICTORIAL DRAWIXCx ROOM CXBIPANIOX.
43
[^^"ritttn for Gleason's Pictorial.]
UNREQUITED liOVE.
BY J. ALFORD.
" Let sweet reflection sway the feeling mind,
And gather morals from each budding flower.-'
Sec, Clara, how yon lovely rose
Buds with the dawning light ;
And as the day comes gliding on,
Looks doubly gay and bright.
But when the night begins to spread
Her sable mantle round,
Alaa I it fades, and drooping Ues,
Neglected on the ground.
No longer, then, with killing frowns,
Give pain to this fond heart,
■\\'lien thy bright smiles, and accents sweet,
Would so much bliss impart.
Obdurate still ?— my love disdain ?—
Thou triumph 'st in my sorrow ;
But know, proud girl, though fair to-day,
Thy charms may fade to-morrow.
But I will cease to importune
A heart so cold as thine,
For there 's no hope of mutual bUss,
Lest heart to heart incline.
On life's rough sea I'm left forlorn,
The sport of adverse wind ;
To sink beneath wild ocean's foam.
And leave no trace behind.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A SKETCH FKOM LIFE.
BY 3IKS. E. WELLMOXT.
The regular swell ! His face is a mixture of
small-pox, erysipelas and the mumps combined.
His figure is a complete bloat ; and then look at
his gait ! See how uneven and irregular he
moves along ; and were it not for unmistakeable
marks of one of his "profession," he might be
taken for a tipsy sailor just landed from the ship.
But no ; he cames a large gold-headed cane,
heavy bushy locks are appended to each ear, and
hair, if nothing else, seems to have found a con-
genial soil about his mouth and chin. Where
was he yesterday 'i Why, he took a choice spirit
to ride. They chartered a fleet animal, and af-
ter " raising tlie wind " at sundry hotels in the
vicinity, they daslied into another vehicle, broke
off both shafts, were thrown into the mud, taken
up insensible, and conveyed to a neighboring
house, where, after examination and a copious
ablution, only a scratch was discoverable above
tlie left eye; thus verifying the adage, that
" nought is never in danger." The horse was
returned to the stable, the buggy is smashed up
by the roadside, and " swell " tells the owner " to
help himself if he can." How is he to-day ? He
has just swallowed a mint jnlep, and bought a
ticket for a friend's "benefit;" his head ach^s
confoundedly; he has a mind, however, to take
a game at billiards ; you and ho will run for luck,
but alas ! " swell " is beaten, and his last six-
pence is gone ; but there is one resource ; his
old father owns a fanm in the country, and by
dint of hard labor, his mother has collected, from
eggs and butter, money enough to buy Eunice a
sili dress before the fourth of July, when she in-
tends to visit her brother, Robert, in the city ;
but a letter anives ; it b'.ars marks of being writ-
ten in haste, and its contents are as follows :
" Dear Mother : I know you will sympathize
in my misfortunes. I was thrown from a chaise
yesterday, and nan'owly escaped with my life."
{Here the old lady is seized with faintness.)
Eunice resumes : " I have been out of regular
employment for the last three months ; there's
no getting a place ; but it is necessary I should
remain here to keep a look out. My funds are
all gone — paid my last cent to my landlady for
bo:ud this morning. My health is rather poor.
J till ('• X may be dropsical ; have a pain in my
eyi.', >r ''nual thirst, and an uneasiness about
the i'h'/-f p-'_iich a few dollars might remove."
("Dear K/!" murmured the old lady.) "I
have thoughf^ you and Eunice might send me a
shin plaster just to patch over these uncomfort-
able wounds. I have plenty of jolly fellows who
keep up my spirits ; but the -ready rhino is indis-
pensable to my maintaining a decent appearance
in this big city. You had better say nothing to
father about this request ; for I should dislike to
cause him any anxietj', and he might advise my
being taken home, ivhick is out of the que:itioii.
"Tmly, KoBEiiT."
" Poor child !" repeated the mother. " Dear
Bob!" said Eunice, "you are welcome to all I
have gathered. There are seventy-five cjnts in
the hook and eye box, one dollar in ten cent
pieces in the foot of a stocking, and twenty-five
cents which I should appropriate to my annual
subscription to the library; but eveiy cent of it
shall go to brother ; if I had a whole Californian
mine it would be none too much. Yet how I do
wish he would come home and see us."
"And, Eunice, there's twelve dozen of eggs,
and that large cheese, and go to the pork tub,
child, and take out a large piece, and run over
to the grocer's, and ask him what discount I
must make for him to send me the money. Let
me see, I have four dollars and fifty-seven cents
by me. Well, we will make it up to twelve
dollars, and that will give the boy a lift for a lit-
tle while."
"Swell" has received it. He first takes a
boon companion, and calls for a glass of whisky
punch to get melloicecl, as he calls it ; fells on his
tailor and offers to take a ready made suit on six
months credit, but is refused ; swears roundly,
and walks out ; goes to the refectory and sups
on oysters and a stiff glass, then wends his way
to the theatre, drinks between the acts, makes up
to a night-walker, is overtaken by the police,
and locked up in the watch-house. The next
moraing he is released ; plays a game, wins, loses
— all gone ; drinks by invitation, staggei*s, grows
boisterous, is represented as a common vaga-
bond, and sent to the House of Correction for
three months. Information is communicated to
the parents. Wliat a liome of agony is there !
troubles unspeakable, beyond the power of sym-
pathy to subdue ; for there is a disgrace which
dishonors a son, and sends a thrill of anguish
into the hearts where he was fondly nui'tured,
which has never been written.
Ten yeai*s ago this young man came to this
city in all the simplicity and purity of his early
training, and was a salesman in a well-establish-
ed finii. His home was a boarding-house — a
cheap house, where decent food and lodging
might be had with a room mate, at a low rate.
That companion, however, was a profligate
young man. In that house no kindly rebuke
was ever administered, provided no impi-oper
behaviour was visible. A general freedom was
allowed, and a night key furnished to such
hoarders as chose to pay for one. It had no at-
ti-actions as a home ; and after the duties of the
day were ended, the young man felt at liberty to
see the wonders in a strange city. At first his
expenses were paid to decoy him without any
compunctions; and gradually, as his "green
habits " yielded to the fascinations of unlawful
desires, a sort of independent action that made
him master of his own purse, caused him to
yield to the solicitations of the initiated; and his
fall was just as certain as his associates were
coiTupt. He soon forgot the precepts of his
rural home ; he even became hardened in his
aflfectionate interest for those whom he left there.
He entered no lecture-room, he attended no
church, he cherished no love of purity, but, a prey
to the lawless and wild dictates of an imgovcmed
spu'it, his doom appeared sealed, and "the his-
tory of a regular swell " was all by which he was
known in this community. AVere this but a soli-
tary instance of departure from rectitude, the ex-
ample might be held up like the prodigal son in
the Sciiptm'es ; but, unlike him, they are too of-
ten confirmed blots upon creation, and never
come to themselves, and retrace their steps.
To those parents who are meditating a ti^ans-
fer of their sons to a great metropolis, we would
entreat them to look beyond the wages they se-
cure, to thi; homes tlwij euter ; sec that a kind care
watches over them ; gather about them such in-
fluences as tend to confirm and strengthen the
rudiments you have instilled ; and, above all, do
not relax your own interest in their welfare.
Write to them ; be ever near them in spirit, and
contrive to so entwine youi-selves about their
hearts that the slightest dereliction may turn their
thoughts to that ttmniscicnt as well as parental
eye, which ever watches over them.
WONDERS OF THE HE.iVENS.
John Herschel, in liis Es.^^ay on the power of
the telescope to penetrate into space, says there
arc stars so infinitely remote as to be situated at
the distance of twelve millions of millions of
millions of miles from our earth ; so that light,
which travels witli tlie velocity of twelve millions
of miles in a minute, would reciuire two millions
of years for its transit from those distant orbs to
our Qvra ; while the astronomer, who should re-
cord the aspect of mutations of such a star, would
be relating, not its history at tlie present day, but
that which took place t^vo millions of years gone
by. What is our earth in space almost infinite ?
and still more, what is man, that he should be
the special object of regard to tlie Infinite Author
of this system of A\'orlds '? — Enfjiish paper.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
C.ISTLE BUILDING.
BY JOHN RUSSEL,
A raw boned, spunky, Irish lad.
Who his own share of blarney had.
Came to this country — free as lard,
To find a home, and play his card.
Says Pat, ''And sure I 've come, at last,
Where I 'II forget my sorrows past ;
Shillelaghs, tithes and broken pate.
Here are unkno^Ti, or out of dat« ;
And nought I sec before my eyes,
For such a lad as me, but — rise I
Jackson, and Reilly, and Maguire,
Their very names my breast inspire I
But stop ! so fast I must not meddle.
My first resort must be to peddle I
I'ive dollars are my only stock,
All safely lined within my sock ;
Which, well laid out at pubhc sale,
To yield me fifteen will not fail.
These doubled, trebled, o'er and o'er,
Will put me in a handsome store ;
■Where I shall court the public notice.
And run, perchance, for some sleek office.
I '11 be a red-hot party man,
Until they dub me alderman ;
And then a door will open wide.
For any size and sort of stride ;
For there's but little 'twixt the mayor
And the big presidential chair."
"^^Tiile these thoughts floated in his brain,
He searched, his money to regain ;
Which, holding high up in the air,
As if his victory to share ;
A most unto^\'ard blast of wind
Came impudently from behind,
And ere Pat could a speech deliver.
Blew hopes and money in the river \
5I0KAL.
Ne'er sell your fish nntil you catch them.
Nor count your chickens till you hatch them.
THE CLOIATE OF AUSTRALIA.
It is a great blessing, too, to be able to go
abroad in an ordinary indoor dress, instead of
piling ou extra pellicles, graduated according to
tlie season. Here the family of clogs, galoshes,
umbrellas, etc., imported from Europe by the
careful emigrant, arc " hungup as monuments !"
Chesterfield, Benjamin, Taglioni and Mackintosh,
are sumptuary nobodies ; and Kicol is only tol-
erated in his most gossamer form. I am aware
of the existence of one warming-pan in New
South Wales — one only ; and I shall move the
owner to present it to the Sydney museum when
she returns to England — perfectly certain that to
ninety-nine out of a hundred Anglo-Australian
visitors of the institution the intent and purposes
of the implement would be utterly inscrutable.
* * * Yet with all its beauties the Australian
climate, taken as a whole, is hard, glaring, al-
most withering in its excessive aridity. If it
does not prompt to languor and listlessness, like
that of some other souUiem countries, neither is
there anything voluptuous in it. Byron's dictum
regarding " what men call gallantry " and " cli-
mates sultry " does not hold good, I think, with
regard to New South Wales. It is an indirect
libel upon it — happily! Perhaps, however, so
business-like a people would not be sentimental,
romantic, poetical or amorous, under any skyey
influences ! — Onr Antipodes.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LOOK ON THE SUNNY SLDE.
BY MRS. M. W. CUETIS.
Though clouds may gather to dim the sky,
And summer friends may pass thee by,
When adversity's chains are over the flung.
Or the heart with anguish deep is wrung,
Though troubles may come as a rolling tide,
Despair not, look on the sunny side.
Remember 'tis darkest before the day.
Then watch thee for the sunbeam's ray,
'Twill come again to gladden the breast,
And set thy troubles and fears at rest ;
Let not despair in thy boi-om hide,
But cheer thee, ajid look on the sunny side.
There are beautiful spots in this world of oui-s,
Where the blossoming glade is sweet with flowers ;
There arc moments of happiness radiant with light,
There are hopes will outshine death's withering blight ;
Then let not despair in thy bosom hide.
But cheer thee, and look on the sunny side.
ORIGIN OF THE WORD " BLACIiGUARDS."
In all great houses, but particularly in royal
residences, there were a number of mean and
dirty dependents, whose ofiice it was to attend
the woodyard, sculleries, etc. Of these — for in
the lowest depth there was a lower still — the most
forlorn wretches seem to have been selected to
carry coals to the kitchen, halls, etc. To this
smutty regiment, who attended the progresses,
and rode in the cars witli the pots and kettles,
which, with every other article of furniture, were
then moved from palace to palace, the people in
derif^ion gave the name of "blackguards" — a
term since become sufficiently familiar, and nev-
er before properly explained. — Gifford's Notes to
Ben Jonson's Plai/s.
A LONDON PARLLA3IENT.ARY REPORTER.
Proby had never been out of London, never
in a boat, never on the back of a horfce. To the
end of bag-wigs he wore a bag ; he was the last
man that walked with a cane as long as himself,
ultimately exchanged for an umbrella, which he
was never seen without in wet weather or dry,
yet he usually reported the whole debates in the
I'eers from memoiy, witliont a note, for the
" Morning Chronicle," and wrote two or three
novels, depicting the social manners of the times !
He was a strange feeder, and ruined himself in
eating pastry at the confectioner's shojis (for one
of whose scores Taylor and I hailed him) ; he
was always in a perspiration, whence George
Colman christened him " King Porus ;" and he
was always so punctual to a minute, that when
he arrived in sight of the office window, the re-
mark used to be : " There's Proby — it is half past
two," and yet he never set his watcli. If ever it
came to right time, I cannot tell ; but if you ask-
ed him what o'clock it was, he would look at it,
and calculate something in this sort : " I am
twenty-six minutes past seven — four, twenty-one
from twelve, forty — it is just three minutes past
three !"
Poor, strange, and simple, yet curiously-in-
formed Proby, his last domicil was the Lambeth
parish workhouse, out of which he would come
in its coarse gray garb, and call upon his friends
as freely and unceremoniously as before, to the
surprise of servants, who entertain "an 'onid "
jealousy of paupers, and who could not compre-
hend why a person so clad was shown in. The
last letter I had from him spoke exultingly of his
having been chosen to teach the young children
in the house their ABC, which conferred some
extra accommodations upon him. — Tlie Autobi-
ography of W. Jerdan.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ELLA.
BY HENEY J. KILMER.
She sleeps beneath yon willow tree,
My little sister dear ;
Her spirit from this earth is free,
Gone to another sphere.
'Twas in the gentle month of spring.
And the blossoms decked each tree,
"Wlien Ella's spirit took its wing.
And left our home and me.
We laid her 'neath the clustering boughs
Of yon o'crspreading tree,
And I am sad and lonely now.
Since she left our home and me.
She was too pure a bud to stay
In this world of death and gloom j
So God has called our Ella away,
To a land where ail is bloom.
I miss her sweet, enchanting tone,
That echoes through the hall ;
I sit in quiet and alone,
To hear her footsteps fall.
But ah ! I never more will bear
Her gentle voice again ;
She's gone into that bUssful sphere.
Where the heart is free from pain.
MOMENTS OF 3IELODY.
I remember once strolling along the margin
of a stream, in one of those low, sheltered val-
leys on Salisbury Plain, where the monks of
fonner ages planted chapels and built hermits'
cells. There was a little parish church near, but
tall elms and quivering alders hid it from the
sight, when, all on a sudden, I was startled by
the sound of the full organ pealing on the car,
accompanied by rustic voices, and the willing
choir of village maids and cJiildrcn. It rose,
indeed, "like an exhalation of rich distilled per-
fumes." The dews from a thousand pastures
were gathered in its softness ; the silence of a
thousand years spoke in it. It came upon the
heart like the calm beauty of death ; fancy caught
the sound, and faith mounted on it to the skiis.
It filled the valley like a mist, and still poured
out its endless chant, and still it swells upon the
ear, and wraps me in a golden ti'ance, drowning
the noisy tumult of the world. — Hazlitt.
TRIBUTE TO WOMAN.
There is something about woman that is curi-
ous, isn't there ? This morning I swept the
school Iiouse. I thought it was nicely done. I
felt proud. Presently some girls came in ; and
one, true to the instinctive sense of neatness
characteristic of her sex, took the broom. She
swept after mc — and, good gracious, what a
change ! It seemed as if — well, I can't tell ; but
when slie had got done, I had a very poor opinion
of my house-keeping powers, I assure you. The
stove-hearth, the wood by the stove, all, every-
thing, put on that look which only woman can
give. What in creation is it that makes them
give such an air to things I — CoiTesj'Oiidence of
Kn ickcrbocker.
OUR PASSIONS.
We are like Adam in the ei>ic poem ; we look
upon our first night as the crack of doom, and
the first setting of the sun of the world. We be-
wail our friends as if there were no better futu-
rity yonder, and bewail ourselves as if there were
uo'bettcr futurity here; for all onr passions are
born atheists and infidels. — Hichtei:
Gnats are unnoticed whereso'pr they fly.
But eagles gazed upon by every ej a.—Shahspeare.
u
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DllAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE NEW COURTS OF LAW^ C05IM0NLY CALLED OSGOODE HALL, TORONTO, CjVNADA.
OSGOODE HAIil*, TORONTO.
Toronto, tlic locjile of the fine buiUlins:; repre-
sented above, in the spac-e of some thirty yei-irs,
lias become, from a village containing a few
Inmdrcd souls, a iloui'ishing town with above
twenty tlionsand inliabitants, and possessing
most of the comforts and many of tlic luxuries of
the generality of English country towns, her
seniors by centuries. Some fifteen years ago the
scat of government, which had been held at To-
ronto, was removed to Kingston ; and the ab-
sence of a resident governor, with his train of
officials, as also of a hirge garrison, was severely
felt, and obliged Toronto to apply all her ener-
gies to overcome her loss. The strong exertion
of inward resources is seldom without its reward,
and in this case has proved how far more bene-
ficial in its results is reliance on native industry
than on foreign support. So far from degener-
ating, Toronto has continued to improve, and is
now the most flourishing town of Western Cana-
da. After Toronto was shorn of its official
greatness, it underwent many transformations of
its public buildings ; the parliament building was
converted into a mad-house, by a less easy trans-
formation the governor's residence became a
normal school, his excellency's stable a theatre,
and the principal barrack sprouted fortli into a
lawyers* hall. The accompanying sketch will
show that, as far as arcliitcetural beauty is con-
ceded, the change in the latter case has been
decidedly for the better ; but, alas ! where are ye
now, yc gallant 93d Highlanders, who once call-
ed Osgoode Hall your barracks 'i Hushed are
the pibroch's notes, which once resounded
in this placCjWhcrc the bustling attorney prepares
his bill of costs, the sage barrister rehearses elo-
quence, the dignified judge dispenses law. Black
goivns and green bags have superseded red coats
and tartan kilts, and melted into thin air are the
idle crowds which would once collect at the gate
to watch the manceuvres of those stalwart men,
as bedirked and bckilted they moved in proud
consciousness of the admiration they excited.
Many a group of American travellers would then
stop, and utter quaint remarks upon the breadth
of chest and ruddiness of eheek of these moun-
tain warriors ; while beneath green veils and
black silk dresses (the uniform travelling dress of
American ladies) a fearful struggle would take
place between female curiosity and Yankee fas-
tidiousness, till the spirit of Eve conquers, the
green veil' is thrown back, and soft expressive
glances of undisguised admiration rest on those
sturdy forms, " horrid bare legs," notwithstand-
ing ! The population of Toronto consists chiefly
of the descendants of New England loyalists —
that is, British subjects who, during the revolu-
tionary war, adhered to the British cause — and
English, Scotch and L'ish emigrants ; the former
well merit the success which has in general at-
tended tlieir efforts, to regain by industry or
talent wliat their forefathers had sacrificed to an
honorable sense of duty; while the latter have
themselves principally to blame if they fail to
better tlieir condition, and eventually secure to
themselves and their children, competence or
independence.
CROSSING THE RAPID!-. A CANADIAN SCENE.
[I'or dcauription, soo [iitifo 15.J
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRA\^^ING ROOM COMPANION.
45
PEEDERICK GLEASON, PKOpniETOR.
MATURIN IT. BALLOU, Editor.
COKTEKTS OF OUR NEXT NUMKER.
"Mark Warland, or Fortune and Favor," a story, by
Geo. Can.msg IIill.
•' The Three Dollar Bill," a sketch of an STery day truth,
by S. CoDD, Jr.
" Summer Boarding,"' a story, by Mrs. E. "Wellmont.
" Works of Love," a story, by Mrs. S. P. Douckty.
" 0 come not to me." Terses, by Miss E. Hicks.
"My Harrv, 0!" a song, by R. G. Staples.
" To a Kosebud," verses, by C. Jillson.
" Lines to a Kiss."
*' The Loss of Sachem's ITead,* ■ by F. W. Rdssell.
'■ The Lone Heart,'' lines, by J. II. Butler.
•■There is a God above." verses, by S. BuRNnAsi.
'- To Mrs. E. Chandler," a poem, by Mrs. R. T. Eldredge.
'■ Covenanter's nynin," lilies, by J. Hukt, Jr.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
We shall give a fine full length portrait of the late Hon.
Henry Clay, one of America's honored and cherished sons,
and for wliom the land is in mourning from east to west,
from north to south. It is by our .artist, Mr. Roivsr.
Also the famous Clay Medal, presented to this honored
statesman, will be correctly delineated by our artist, Mr.
Wade.
We shall present a very interesting set of scenes illus-
trating a large variAy of Fishes, of various kinds, and in
various positions, forming an admirable eeries of natural
history illustrations, covering two entire pages of the
Pictorial.
A very beautiful and original series of views of the City
of Neivport, R. I., now the most fashionable watering
place io America, by our artist, Mr. CImpin. The series
will consist, first, of a view of the City of Newport ; second,
a view of the First Beach and Bathing Point ; third, a pic-
ture of the Stone Tower ; fourth. Fort Conanicut, opposite
the City of Newport ; fifth, an engraving of Gen. I'rescott's
Head Quarters; and sixth, Gen. Greene's Birthplace, form-
ing one of the finest series of connected pictures we have
yet published.
The Glass House for the Victoria Regina, at Ghent, will
be illustrated most accurately, forming a capitJil picture.
Throe engravings will be given, also, of this famous
plant, discovered on the river Amazon, in South America,
representing, first, the lily before opening; second, the
lily in full ttower; and third, the under part of the leaf,
forming a most interesting series of illustrations of this
marvellous plant.
An original and very beautiful view, by our artist, Mr.
Mallory, of the Blind Asylum, at South Boston. A fine
picture.
FUIVERALS.
The stupid indiflPcrence with which all the
Americans regard tlie passage of a funeral pro-
cession is proverbial. Now the French people,
from a regaid to the feelings of mouniers, as well
as respect for the memory of the dead, wlien
they meet a funeral procession, stand still, and
uncover in the street, while the procession pass-
es. A most touching tribute to the memory of
the dead. "VVe most earnestly wish our people
had the heart to imitate it.
SPLINTERS.
General Lane bets SIOOO that Scott will
not be elected.
.... Jenny Lind, at last accounts, was creat-
ing a great furor in London.
.... The Boston Bee asks, will Scott pierce
Pierce, or will Pierce pierce Scott ?
Burning fluid murdered G. L. Bai-tlett,
of the town of Mendon, Mass.
.... Michael Weeks was killed by a sun stroke
the other day, at Savannah, Ga.
.... Louis Napoleon's salary is just about
eight cents a second! Big pay that.
Mi's. Mowatt has just closed an engage-
ment for her professional services at New Orleans.
.... They have a magnificent new steamer on
the Hudson Eiver called the " Francis Skiddy."
Seven railroads will terminate at Buffa-
lo, N. Y., before the year 1853.
Queen Victoria has been on a visit to the
Highlands of Scotland, we see.
Milwaukie has shipped 50,000 dozens of
eggs for New York, this season.
Booth, the elder, has gone to California
on a professional theatrical tour.
.... The small-pox still rages very severely
in the city and suburbs of New York.
Coal has been selling at Panama for
twenty-five dollars per ton.
C. Dibdin Pitt, when last heard from,
was playing at one of the London theatres.
.... McAllister, the magician, has been re-
markably successful in Philadelphia.
It is said tliat Mr. Webster will shortly
retire from public life altogetlicr.
.... The Hutchinson Family liave gone to
sing to the Californians. Arrived safe.
FOREIGKERS.
We see very often a spirit manifested in the
public press against the rights and privileges of
our foreign population, that does not strike us
as being exactly in accordance with the genius of
our institutions. People seem alarmed lest for-
eigners should become so numerous as to outvote
us, and in the end overthrow the present fonn of
government in the United States. AVe can sym-
pathize with no such fear as tliis.
In lookmg hack but a little way in our history
as a nation, we find that some of the most illus-
trious names in our State and army records are
those of foreigners, and the children of foreign-
ers ; indeed, what arc we all but tlic descendants
of foreigners ? "UHien would our freedom have
been established, but for the assistance rendered
by the good right liands of foreigners "? Need
we adduce a proud list of names, beginning,
for instance, with that of Lafayette ? No, we
will not suppose that our readers are so ignorant
of the liLstory of our country as to require us to
do so.
The nature of our institutions and government
is such, that in their very construction and for-
mation they carry the idea with them of being a
home for the oppressed and down-trodden of
every land. As such, America is the admiration
of the world ; as such, let her ever challenge the
love of the great and good of Christendom, and
prove her right to be cherislied as an asylum of
freedom, and a terror to tyrants, in the bright
example she exhibits.
Eejiublicanism, when justly administered, is
too pure and good, too apparent in its excellence
and value to all wlio have actually enjoyed its
rights and privileges, for us to fear that our
adopted citizens will ever desire to live under any
other form of laws.
CHARACTERISTIC.
What we accomplish by conventions and mass
meetings, the English frequently effect by din-
ners. We observe in late London papers an ad-
vertisement, that " the admirers of Swcdcnborg
will dine together to celebrate the forty-third an-
niversary of the society for printing and publish-
ing his theological works ; tickets twelve shil-
lings each." Tills is a curious mode of honor-
ing the memory of the most spiritual of authoi's,
and of promoting the dissemination of the most
spiritual of writings. In the same paper there is
a call for a special meeting of the '* Anti-CoiTup-
tion Societ}'," for the purpose of " tracing, ex-
posing and punishing any bribery or treatbig in
ihe coming election." Thus, more and more
are the duties of government assumed by private
organizations.
CURE FOR CHOLERA.
Sea captains, who sail out of Liverpool now-a-
days, assert that they care no more for Asiatic
cholera than for ordinary colic, or sickness of
the stomach. They have a remedy which they
pronounce infiillible, and so accessible and sim-
ple as to relieve all ajiprehension of fatal results.
We shall probably tell many of our readers no-
thing new when we state the prescription : Com-
mon salt, one table-spoonful ; red pepper, one
tea-spoonful, in a half pint of hot water. Never-
theless, as we have heard innumerable instances
of its use, and not one of its failure, the repeti-
tion of the formula may do no harm. It is at
the service of the reader.
THE CINCINNATI AGENCY.
In answer to numerous inquires as to the
agency of our paper in Cincinnati, we would say
to all that iMr. H. E. Edwards is not our agent,
and no business is transacted for this establish-
ment by him. Persons desiring our publications
in that city, or the State of Ohio generally, should
apply to A. C. Bagley, No. 10, West Third St.,
who will answer all orders promptly and honor-
ahly. We may have more to say in a future
number relative to our Cincinnati agency.
FujfNT. — It is a remarkable fact that the city
which produces the odorous and world-renowned
Cologne water, is known to he one of the most
filtbv and offensive in the world.
Iron Works sold. — The Boonlon iron
works in New Jersey were recently sold for
S160,000, not one quarter their first cost.
Gold Digging. — William Howitt, the poet,
has gone off to the Australian diggings.
True. — Suspicion is always worse than fiact.
ST. PIERRE.
Mr. Willis lets nothing escape his imaginative
eye in his travels. In a late letter from Marti-
nique to the Home Journal, he describes a visit
to the liospital as follows : " My walk this morn-
ing has been through the wards of a military
hospital — a kind of walk I used to be more fond
of, in days when the picture of life more needed
to borrow shading. This was different, in some
respects, from the hospitals I have seen ; one
might covet a fever to be so lodged and tended.
The building was a massive and imposing one,
shelved on a terrace close to the bright green
hills which embosom tlie town, and i\ith the
courts and gardens of a palace around it. There
were two picturesque peculiarities — one of which
had a touch of sentimental also : the attendants
were Sisters of Charity, nuns nicely coiffed in
white, and with their black crosses suspended
over the whitest of aprons, whom it looked as if
it might be a pleasure to be nm-sed by. Then
the sixty or seventy sick soldiers were heavily
bearded ; and, as they lay reading, or sleeping,
in their long rows of white beds, their heads upon
the clean pillows — mustaches, imperials and all
— were studies for an artist. Grow your beard,
if you wish to look well in bed, my dear general !"
CANADIAN RAPIDS.
On page 44 we give a representation of a Ca-
nadian scene on the rapids of the St. Lawrence,
showing the mode of navigation adopted by the
daring boatmen who navigate these waters. The
pictiu-e is vivid, spirited and life-like, and dis-
plays the stai'tling and adventurous achievements
daily accomplished by these nortliern river boat-
men. Knowing every stone, shoal and channel
way, they perform feats of seeming impossibility
in comparative safety, and with entire self-pos-
session. In the frail bark, ^vhich is represented
in the scene depicted, there will be noticed a
group of travellers ''amidships," in whose coun-
tenances will be observed the terror and anxiety
natural to their situation. They are passing
from some thinly populated portion of the coun-
try to another, and are forced to adopt this haz-
ardous mode of transportation. However, they
pass the rapids in safety, and accidents, notwith-
standing the dangerous com-se, rarely occur, so
practical and self-possessed are the steersman
and his assistant oarsman in the management of
the bark at the most critical moments.
"THE HEART'S SECRET."
On the last page of the present number will be
found an illustration relating to a scene in the
first chapter of Lieutenant Murray's novelette,
now publishing in our columns, entitled " The
Heart's Secret." The scene here depicted is the
quay or whaif at Havana, nearest to the Plato,
from whence Licxitenant Bezan leaped into the
bay to save the life of Ruez Gonzales. Having,
after a fearful struggle, accomplished his noble
purpose, the young officer is seen giving the half
unconscious boy into the arms of his father, Don
Gonzales. Across the bay, in the dim twilight,
is seen the outline of Moro Castle, from behind
the battlements of which, the moon is stealing
up, and silvering the water with its bright but
subdued light. On the quay lays the coat, where
the young officer hastily threw it, as he leaped
into the sea to save the boy's life. In the back-
ground is seen Count Anguera, who is hastening
for a volante to convey Ruez to his home.
A PRETTY INCOME.
According to a statement just published by
order of the House of Commons, the income of
Queen Victoria's eldest son, the young Prince of
Wales, during the year 1S51, from tlie Duchy of
Cornwall, was .£G1,272 2s. 7d. Deducting ex-
penses for surveys, repairs, etc., .£40,313 lls.6d.
was left, which amount was paid over to the
ti'ustces of the prince for his use. A snug little
amount of pocket money for a boy.
What's in a Name ? — A Minnesota paper
announces the man-iage of Thomas H. Curd,
formerly of Ohio, to Miss Whirling Thunder, a
Winnebago lady.
< ^■^ »
Plain Talk. — ^Lloyd's London Newspaper
calls the Austrian butcher. Emperor Francis Jo-
seph, " the best of the cut-throats !"
Queer. — It is obser\'ed that every fifteen years
Lake Erie overflows its usual bounds by a flood
of many feet's elevation. It is now high tide there.
■< .»*»■ ■»
Bad Taste. — Gen. Harrison's tomb, at North
Bend, is reported by a late visitor to be in a
shamefully neglected and ruinous condition.
In this city, by Kev. Mr. Miner, Mr. Abiel H. Butrick
to Miss Sibyl B, Andrews.
By Kev. Mr. Gray, Sir. Francis Revere to Miss Eliza J.
Dexter.
By Rev. Dr. Sharp, George W. Tusbury, Esq., to Miss
Ilavrictta M. Beats.
By Rev. Mr. Howej Mr. Lorenzo K, Wliitconib to Misa
Caroline Morrison.
By Rev. Mr. Ellis, Mr. Tincent Dell Lent to Sliss Sarah,
Jane Bell.
At CharlGsto^-n, by Rev. Mr. Townley, Mr. J. Alonzo
Holt to Miss Adehne T. Selby.
At Dorchos ter, Mr. Stephen Clapp to Miss Martha Clapp ;
Mr. Charles Frederick Weir to Miss Mary Clapp.
At Salem, Mr. Uenry G. Hubon to Miss Lydia A Clark ;
Mr. S. Frederick Hubon to Miss Caroline M. Smith.
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. CoUyer, Mr. Jonathan Fish, Jr.,
of Worcester, to Miss Azubah Blanchard.
At Dunstable, by Rev. Mr, Adams, Mr. A. N. Swallow,
of Charlestown, to Miss Rebecca P. Proctor.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Thomas, Mr. Alanson Bor-
den to Miss Mary C. Topsham.
At Southboro', Mr. Stimpson Stacj', of Boston, to Miss
Elizabeth M. Wilder, of Leominster.
At Lebinon, N. H., Dr. Justin E. Stevens, of Boston, to
Miss Sarah Jane Eldridge.
At Portland, Me., by Rev. Mr. Chickering, Mr. Robert
H. Sherwood, of New York, to Miss Mary Ncal.
At Newport, R. I., Mr. Walter L. Russell, of New York,
to Miss Lizzie al- Rouudy,
At Brooklyn, N. Y-, by Rev, Dr. Young, Mr. James 0.
Safford, of Boston, to Miss Nancy M. Potter, of Salem, Ms.
tf-^^^^-
In this city, Mrs. Caroline R. Duntlin, 25 ; Mrs. Georgi-
ana M. Bi-adlee, 22 ; Mrs. Mary Smith, 57 ; Mr. Alexander
Edwards, 32; Harriet Mai-ia Wright, 13: Mr. Joseph G.
Oakca. 30.
At CbarlestowTi, Mr. Horace Everett, 47.
At East Cambridge, Mrs. Sarah Haley, 75.
At Lynn, Miss Susan Am Graves, 19.
At Danvers, Mrs. Elizabeth Hutcbinson, 82.
At Salem, Capt. George N. Cbeever, 37.
At Marblehcjid, Mrs. Sarah Newhall, (37.
At Beverly, Mr. Cornelius Larcom, 51.
At Cohassett, Capt, Wmiam Kilborn, 67.
At South Scituate. Mr. Elisha Foster, 77.
At North Eridgewater, Mr. Barzillai Carey, 72.
At Ipswich, Miss Caroline Brown. 19.
At Gloucester, Mi-s, Ele-tnor D. Wonson, 33.
At New Bedford, Mrs. Mary Taber, 76.
At Nantucket, Mrs, Ann Louisa Cary, 45.
At Monson, Ann S., wife of Dr. David Callunfl.
At Springfield, Mr. Ezra Lillie, 87.
At North Chester, Mr, Amos Elder, 47.
At Hamilton, Mrs. Annis Foster, 80.
At Boscawen, N. H.. Mr. John Hornet, 77.
At Portland, Me., Miss Kuth Amanda Hus,sey, 17.
At East Vassalboro', Me., Mrs. Polly Coffin, 57.
At Providence, R. I., Mr. Elias M. Conner, 23.
At South Kingston, R. I., Hon. Lemuel H. Arnold, 61.
At Norwich, Ct., Hon. Roger Huntington, 08-
At Schenectady, N. Y., Mrs. Catharine R. Taylor.
At Farmington, lU-, Mrs. Lydia Smith, 35.
A mimnmm smfm^m
LITERAEY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTOELVL
A llecord of the beautiful and useful in A7-t.
The object of this paper is to pre,<!ent, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of noUvblo
event.i of tlie day. Its columns arc devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEIUCAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and forei'^n news ; the wholo
well spiced with «it and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notiblc objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and Ci* men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its des^ign, in this country. It-s pagca
contain views of every populous city in tiie known woild,
of all buildings of note in the castcra or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of bcautifi-il eccncr.-, taken from life, ^^iU also be
given, with niunerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the lish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surfvco paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it aflbrds, and the rich aiTay of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOIUME,
OR, S-1 00 PER ANN'UM.
JSVAHIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Each pix months completes a volume, commencing on
the tirst of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
DT?^ One copy of the Flag of our Usiox, and one copy
of the Pictorial Drawing-Room Compakiox, one year,
lor So UO.
\r?^ The Pictorial Drawixg-Room Compaxion may be
obfcUned at any of the periodical depots throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ten ce?tts per single copy
Published every Satcrdav, by
F. GLEASON, Bosrox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS-
S. FRENCH. 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New Yor':.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS. TAYLOR & Co., Ill Baltunore St., Baltunore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 10 AVest 3d Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. 4th and Chesnut, St. Louis.
[13^ Sitb.-irriptions received at either of the nlovf plarfS
46
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for GleaHon'H Pictorlnl.]
STANZAS.
DY n. MKIllt-VN PAftKE.
Evo Uofl down with the BhadowHj
Dow8 creep into tlio floworH ;
rirds liavo covered their muaic up
In I011V08 of quiet bowers.
Enrth is dear in her hoauty,
CrJdi as a ttoul at rent ;
Fair aa a young wliite dove at morn,
With (low boadfl on lior breast.
Night treads soft and shrinkingly,
Cares have stolen away ;
Sleep hail opened her peaceful wingR,
And thought haa ceused to play.
Clouds float over the star-beams,
Veiling the night light rare ;
And the sound of angel wings is heard,
Parting tlie pleasant air.
Morn wakes up mth hor blushes,
AVinda come over the hill,
And sprinkle with startled blossoms,
The breast of the laughing rill.
Songa ring out through the woodland,
Birds aail over the trees ;
Flowers look up from their fragrant sleep,
A-sby at the wild young breeze.
< i^»— >
[Written for Gleason'a Pictorial.)
MR. BUMBLE'S FAMILY:
— OK —
ARRIVING AT A FORTUNE.
BY GEO. CANNING HILL.
They were all sitting together in Mrs. Bum-
ble's snug little country parlor — the entire Bum-
ble family. There were Mr. Bumble, and Mrs.
Bumble, and their two very hopeful offspring,
Joshua and Jane — only these four. And a hater
of everything else in the world, could he have
just looked in upon this scene, would assuredly
have felt his ascetic heart reached by its genial
and refining influences.
Yes ; Mr. Bumble and wife, and their two chil-
dren. There they were in that country parlor,
the twilight of a summer evening just beginning
to curtain them in. A bough of asparagus, wild
and ragged with its rambling sprays, was stuck
into a broken pitcher at either corner of the open
fire-place, and Mr. Bumble on canvass was seri-
ously staring at Mrs. Bumble on canvass, above
the very high and very narrow mantel.
Says Mr. Bumble — prefacing his speech with
a very eflfective clearing of his pipes, that made
the little parlor ring as with the rumbling deto-
nations of an organ — says Mr. Bumble :
" Wife, I think I shall broach the subject noiv."
Mrs. Bumble looked up surprisedly into his
face, and merely inquired :
" What subject, Mr. Bumble V
The younger Bumbles looked up likewise.
Joshua, in particular, regarded Ins parent with a
very peculiar look, indeed, certainly significant
of something, but of what no one could be sup-
posed to know.
" You must know, Mrs. Bumble," replied her
husband, very deliberately, " that my situation
in life" — Joshua looked more sharply at him —
" that is, my affairs — I mean, Mrs. Bumble — in
short, that I am able at this day to support a
more respectable style of living, and so forth,
and so forth, whii-li it is quite unnecessary for
me to mention."
Mrs. B. bowed to liim ; Jane smiled, and
Joshua stroked quite vigorously the green mous-
tache he had just begun to coax out into a visi-
ble though still sickly existence.
" I have at length sold out my interest in the
tallow-cIiMndlery business, and I now intend to
keep what respectable people call an 'establish-
ment' of my own," said Mi-. Bumble.
" It's what I've always wanted; it's what I al-
ways prayed for!" exclaimed Mrs. Bumble, lift-
ing both hands. "Now we'll see if those Bid-
dies will feel quite as grand as they liave this
three year — hardly speaking to my Jane half the
time, as if they were much too good for her!
Noiv we'll see how thei/'ll feel about it !"
"0, father!" exclaimed Jane, her face light-
ing very strangely, "I am overjoyed !"
" Now in order to set out in our new style of
living as we ought," proceeded Mr. Bumble, "I
think we must begin with taking some decided
step."
" Certainly," replied his wife.
'* By all means !" added Jane.
" What shall that step be ?" asked Mr. Bum-
ble, addressing himself especially to his son
Joshua. " You, Joslnm, have hud advantages
greater than ours for seeing good society, and
therefore I put the question to i/oit. What do
i/ou think best to do, Joshua V
"Father," replied Joshua, as if with much
thought, still continuing to stroke his green
niouslaehe, " father, I am of the opinion that we
ought to make some fashionable excursion, the
first thing we do !"
" An excursion I O, yes, an excursion !" ex-
claimed Iiis sister, already fancying liorsclf on
the water.
" Yes, Joshua would know wliat is fashionable
and genteel, and tliem things, if anybody would,"
quoth his doting mother.
" An excursion," said Mr. Bumble. " Where
shall it I)c then, Joshua?"
" Some folks prefer Newport," said Joshua;
" and some Saratoga, and some again, tlic White
Mountains, and some Cape May, and some
Moosehcad Lake. Anybody can have his
choice."
" But wliat do -i/on tlunk would be the most
genteel V pursued his father.
" Yes, what do i/oa think would V persisted
his mother.
" Well, I must say I give tlie preference to
Newport," he tlioughtfnlly replied. The look of
wisdom he, at this point, assumed, it would be
out of our power to describe. " Newport is the
resort of the most fashionable, as well as the
most wealthy people. On that account, I give it
the preference for ourselves. It will be a much
greater thing to tell of next winter, that we went
to Newport this summer, than to Naliant, or Co-
hasset, or Moosehead. You know, father, a
great deal in these matters depends upon how
they arc going to sound ; and I like the sound
of Newport."
" And so do I," added his well-awakened sister.
"Joshua's right; Josliua's always right," said
his fond mother.
" Then to Newport it is," replied Mr. Bumble ;
" and you had better all get ready."
Greater results never grew out of any similar
family gathering. It was on the morning of the
fourth day after this conversation, it being what
they termed " bright and early," that a capa-
cious carriage received the entire and undivided
Bumble family, and rolled them away to the cars.
Upon the railroad, their time was brief, admit-
ting of but few facilities for the very earnest
character of their ordinary conversation. But
when they took the steamboat at Providence,
and their own eyes beheld for themselves the
crowds that were embarking and had embarked,
their tongues broke suddenly loose from their
thraldom ; yet their hearts more than half mis-
gave. They looked to Joshua for advice and
example both.
" Come aboard, father," said he, walking over
the plank with his sister. " We're all right, I
believe, I'll see to the baggage afterwards."
And Mr. Joshua Bumble led them through
long lines of passengers, up steep and difficult
steps to the promenade deck, where he managed
to secure a seat for the ladies beneath the flap-
ping awning.
" Ah, this is fine !" exclaimed his father.
" This is veri/ fine !"
" Elegant !" added Mrs. Bumble.
Jane Euml)le only looked about her in speech-
less astonishment. Josliua went to look after
the baggage, and to secure the tickets, having
already been careful to secure a liberal part of
his father's purse. All things accomplislied, the
boat at lengtJi shot away from the end of the
wharf, and their ears and eyes were full for at
least a quarter of an hour succeeding. That
space of time was to them a period of silence —
perhaps of valuable meditation.
On their way down the bay, the breeze spring-
ing up refreshingly, the spirits of the entire party
freshened up in a similar manner. Joshua took
additional courage on seeing his friends so much
at their ease, and went over tlie boat very much
at random.
In the course of his peregrinations, he hap-
pened to reach a particular spot on deck, near
which sat a most bewitching young lady. A
gentleman stood near lier, dressed in a style that
with many would be considered unquestionable.
He at length spied Joshua, and ventured to
break in upon his reflections. In less than half
an hour, Mr. Joshua Bumble and Mr. Maddock
were apparently the friends of half a life-time's
acquaintance. It was, indeed, most wonderful,
how rapidly the cement was formed between two
so genial and sympathizing natures. Mr. Mad-
dock invited Joshua down to the bnr to drink
with him, leaving the lady quite alone. Joslnia
of course, thought this not only all right, but ex-
actly in the eye of fashionable and gentlemanly
practices. So the two fiiends went down [deas-
antly together.
The stranger insisted on becoming acquainted
with Mr. Bumble's friends ; and both he and the
lady in his company were introduced — the lattt-r
with no special cognomen. IIcruMtlorlh l)oth
parties united tlieir social forces, and made quite
a pleasant union on deck. Joshua began to make
love to the strange lady, who seemed herself not
in the least disposed to avoid his agreeable ad-
vances. Tilings went so far at length, that lie
actually seated himself at her side, and addressed
himself to her during pretty much tlic rest of the
sail to Newport.
"You go to the Ocean House?" said the
strange gentleman to the Bumble family, as they
finally touched the dock.
The rest looked instinctively at Joshua, and
he eventually mumbled out, " yes, yes, certainly."
" We have secured private board," returned
the gay stranger, stroking his hirsute face, "No.
17 Street. Come and sec us often."
" We will — we certainly will," said Joshua,
looking very tenderly at the lady ; and the two
very interesting strangers waved themselves
away.
" How agreeable !" remarked Mrs. Bumble,
looking after them.
" No such people in Barborville," added Jane
Bumble.
It was a strange and mysterious passage in
the history of the Bumble family — their passsge
from the boat to the hotel, and thence to their
rooms. It was evident that much had been go-
ing on in the busy world, with which they had as
yet formed no personal acquaintance.
Mrs. Bumble at length sat down in an arm-
chair, and remarked, as with her last departing
breath, that she was " most crazy." Jane thought
it delightful ; and Joshua — he was full of lilue
eyes, and auburn curls, and gauze dresses with
lively figures. His tongue ran incessantly.
We need not stop to detail too particularly.
The Bumbles took their meals very much as
other families of wealth are wont fd do at such
places, and made almost superhuman efforts to
appear at their ease. They watched everybody
with Argus eyes, and tried to do exactly as every-
body did. They solemnly felt this to be their
first lesson in fashionable life. No schoolboy's
lesson was ever harder to master.
Mr. Joshua Bumble began to be absent much
of his time from his family. He was very much
in the company of Mr. Maddock. They seemed -
inseparable friends. They bathed together,
walked together, rode together, and did almost
everything else together. There was no telling
what friends were ever like them before.
But this was not all. Being much in Mr.
Maddock's society, he naturally saw much of the
lady. He thought he knew enough of her to
know that she was not Mr. Maddock's wife.
He felt even sure of that. Still he knew there
was some mystery about it. He went with the
lady quite often to the sea-shore. He occasion-
ally rode with her, too. At all these times, her
companion happened very fortunately to be
absent.
He made an engagement with her one evening,
just at dusk, for a long promenade by the shore.
It was a witching time, and the soul of Joshua
Bumble was full of love. It bad all along been
filling — now, it seemed full. He seized lier hand
fervidly, and told her all the secrets of his wild
heart. It was indeed an exciting history. She
simply listened, and gently encouraged him.
Just at that same hour, too, Mr. Maddock was
in the parlor of the Bumble family, at the hotel.
All seemed to wonder where Joshua could be —
Mr. Maddock more than all.
The lady invited Joshua to return with her to
her house. Mr. Bumble ravenously assented,
and they soon reached home together.
They were sitting on a sofa in the lady's par-
lor, Joshua Bumble holding her white hand.
Her blue eyes were cast down, though ever and
anon she glanced nervously to the door. Joshua
at that took courage. He slipped one arm about
her delicate waist, and was in the act of kissing
her. The door opened suddenly, and Mr. Bum-
ble's party all came in, Mr. Maddock escorting
them ! As soon as that gentleman saw the posi-
tion in which Joshua had venturesomely placed
himself, he sprang towards him with the ferocity
of a tiger, and was clutching him by the throat.
Mrs, Bumble screamed at the top of ber voice,
and Miss Jane, if possible, pitched her melody
several notes higher. Mr. Bumble, senior, seiz' d
his son, and protested that there must be some
mistake. But Mr. Maddock knew better. He
heard nothing, cither. The lady fainted and
fell to the floor. The gentlemen stopped hostll-
ities only to assist her; during which lime, Joshua
managed to make his escape, his mother and
sister following after, with their devoted oflers of
])rotcction.
It was some time before the lady was restored
to consciousness. Mr. Maddock upbraided her
for her conduct cruelly. She wrung her hands
and wept bitterly.
Late at niglit, Mr. Bumble, senior, said to his
wife: "I think we had better pack up and go
home. I have just barely saved Joshua's life;
but it cost me five hundred dollars !"
The next forenoon the Bumble family did
leave; but the accomplished strangers liad left
before them, jingling their cheaply got fund.s,
and pushing oft" for a new field for their very
enterprising laboi's.
[Written for Oleason's Pictorial.]
REFOR3IATION.
BY J. P. WEI8HAMPEL, JR.
Wild fiouls ambitious, toil for fume,
Struggling to be the strongest ;
Playing with common men a game,
That each may rule the longest.
Bartering themselves, they sell their kin,
M.iking each man a debtor ; —
Ah ! it is thne that reform begin ;
Wc should strive to make men better !
A lead these souls unscrupulous take,
In the road all men are racing ;
They care not a whit for their brethren's sake.
So eager are they in chasing.
The countless crimes of the men called great,
Arc printed in scarlet letter,
And they warn us now, ere it be too late,
We should strive to make men better!
"NVe live in the mom of a better age.
That demands no human killing ;
Our race is sick of the fearful rage,
That delights in life-blood spilling.
Old earth recoils as she turns and sees
The example the past has set her ; —
Her future should have no deeds like these ;
We should strive to make men better I
A LONDON ALDERMAN'S NOSE.
Suppose the case of a burly, jovial, corpulent
alderman, standing heliind such an appendage,
with all its indorsements, riders, addenda, extra-
parochial appurtenances, and Taliacotian s^^p-
plements, like a sow with her whole litter of pigs,
or {to speak more respectfully) like a venerable
old abbey, with all its projecting chapels, orato-
ries, refectories and abutments ; and it will seem
to dilate itself before its wearer with an air of
portly and appropriate companionship. I speak
not here of a simple bottle-nose, but one of a
thousand bottles, a pol^q^e talons enormity, whose
blushing honoi-s, as becoming to it as the stars,
crosses and ribbons of a successful general, are
trophies of past victories, the colors won in tav-
eni-campaigns. They recall to us the clatter of
knives, the slaughter of turtle, the shedding of
claret, the deglutition of magnums. Escurient
and bibulous reminiscences ooze from its surface,
and each protuberance is historical. One is the
record of a Pitt-club dinner; another of a corpo-
ration feast ; a third commemorates a tipsy ca-
rousal, in support of religion and social order ;
others attest their owner's civic career, "until,
at last, he devoured his way to the lord mayor's
mansion, as a mouse in a cheese makes a large
house for himself by continually eating;" and
the whole pendulous mass, as if it heard the strik-
ing up of the band at a public dinner on the en-
trance of the viands, actually seems to wag to
the tune of " 0, the roast beef of Old England !"
— Horace Smith's Gaieties and Gravities.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial. 1
TO A FRIEND.
BY CAROLINE A. HAYDEN.
Go, mingle with the world again.
It may not tempt thee now ;
Too much of deep and earnest thought
Is stamped upon thy brow.
Thou wilt not stoop to wear the chain
Which folly's hand may weave;
Thou wilt not bend before a shrine,
Which can no more deceive.
The lessons of the past have been
The guardians of thy fate ;
And still around thy future path
Their memories shall wait.
Go, nunglo with the world again,
And win thyself a name ;
The one thou leav'st is pure and good,
But still unknown to fame.
And when the honors time must bring
Are circling round thy brow,
Kemember one who on thy head
Invokes life's blessings now.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
47
A liADY PRACTITIOKER.
A con-espondent of tlie New York Tribune
says : " A lady practitioner of medicine, in our
village, is in advance of the recent movement,
for she has been a professor of the healing art
nearly twenty years. She studied with her hus-
band, who is a physician of established repute,
and commenced practice under his auspices,
having her own set of patients. Their nmnbcr
rapidly increased, in pan owing to her success,
and in part, it is supposed, that her charges were
more moderate than those of the doctor. He is
above feeling any jealousy, however, of the ris-
ing reputation of his wife, and they continue to
ride their respective rounds in attendance on the
hick. The lady is employed chiefly by the suffer-
ing of her own sex, and for children, and pos-
sesses the entire confidence of all who know her.
It is to be supposed that consultations are held
in difficult cases. Mi"s. G. is a woman of admir-
able energy, and has reared a large family of
children, seeing to the concerns of her household,
as well as attending to her professional duties.
Those interested in the establishment of a medi-
cal college for women, would, perhaps, like to
have her report of her metliod and success in the
treatment of disease."
BUILDING IN NEW YORK.
The Herald contains an account of a number
of new buildings now going up in the city of
New York, chiefly for private residences, most
of which that journal represents as of magnifl-
cent and beautiful styles of architecture. Among
the private residences is one for Samuel Nichol-
son, estimated to cost $40,000 ; another, for J.
Gibson, $35,000 ; and a number for dilferent in-
dividuals costing from slightly beneath $40,000
to $20,000 each. M. 0. Roberts is building two
that will cost $50,000. Eorty-two of these mag-
niticent mansions will cost an aggregate of
$1,170,000, averaging $27,000 each. One firm
of two partners is building seven that are to cost
$270,000 (nearly $39,000 a piece), which, when
completed, might almost be styled a row of
palaces.
< »■» >
GOLD IX AUSTRALIA.
The Whitehaven Herald gives the following
information respecting the first discovery of gold
in Australia : " The first piece found was by a
native. He was a bushman. The scale of in-
tellect of the Australians is remarkable for its
lowness. Seeing his master counting a lot of
sovereigns, he said he had found a picue of ' yel-
low stutf,* far bigger than all those together,
which he had hidden, and would bring it to his
master, if he would give him a new suit of cor-
duroy. Tlie bargain was stmck, after whicli the
man went and produced a lump of Golconda,
weighing one hundred and six pounds, and val-
ued at £5,077 4s. 6."
VENERABLE 3IATRON.
Madame Eoussin, of Washington county,
Missouri, is ninety-seven years of age, and in
good health- She has seen her fom-th genera-
tion, amounting to three hundred and thirty
souls. She was married in 1775, and, as may
readily be supposed, there were but few Ameri-
cans resident in that State within the remotest
period of her recollection. She has been a wid-
ow for thirty-nine years. By her marriage, she
was the mother of five sons and five daughters.
A Singular Sight. — M. Hue, in his travels
in Tartary, Thibet and China, while traversing
a mountain region in the Isaidcn Mongol coun-
try, witnessed the strange spectacle of a herd of
yaks frozen in the stream which they had at-
tempted to cross. The ice was so transparent
that they looked as if still swimming; but the
eagles and ravens had picked out their eyes.
Aktistic. — The Indianapolis papers are in-
formed by JMr. Adams, who has charge of the
Greek Slave, now exhibiting at that place, that
he has within a day or two received du-ectious
from Mr. Powers to send the statue to Europe,
as it has been sold.
CoMMEKCiAL. — A compauy is forming in
London, with a capital of two millions sterling,
to establish a line of steamers between that city
and New York.
Sharks. — Three sharks w^ere caught in
Charleston harbor, on Tuesday the 22d ult.
Dull Times. — There are twenty-two steam-
boats now laid up at St. Loui^.
lUajjsiiie ©atljcrings.
The penitentiary system is said to work well
in Texas.
The passage from Noifolk to New York, was
made last week by a steamer in 25 hours.
Eecent frosts in Kentucky, it is said, have de-
stroyed whole beds of tobacco plants.
The violent slamming of a door will, it is said,
kill young canary birds in their shell.
The cat-o'-nine tails must have as many lives
as tails, or it never could have lasted so long.
The fly is said to be doing great damage to
the wlieat in Albemarle, Orange, Amherst and
Culpepper counties, Virginia.
Louis Napoleon has been vehemently opposed
in the council, on the question of the new sump-
tuary laws that he has indicated.
A strong decoction of rue is an inf;^llible rem-
edy for tetter-worm. It is as simple as it is effi-
cacious.
Col. George C Washington, of Montgomery
County, Md., has a field of rye which averages
seven feet in height.
Over fifty instances of corporeal punishment
occurred in a single public school in Williams-
burgh, New York, during last week.
A good lotion for weak eyes is said to be : 20
drops of laudanum and five drops of brandy, in
a wine-glass of water, applied three times a day,
as warm as the eyes can bear it.
From present indications the grape crop of
Pennsylvania promises to be most abundant,
and the prospect for a full harvest exceeds that
of any previous year.
If you wish to re-fasten the loose handles of
knives and forks, make your cement of common
brickdust and rosin, melted together. Seal en-
gravers understand this recipe.
Master Paul Julien, the child violinist from
Paris, has an-ived, and will soon give us an op-
portunity of judging how far he deserves the ce-
lebrity which preceded him.
The artists of Boston are about forming an
academy of the fine arts, and purpose having
semi-annual exhibitions. Governor Boutwell
has been elected the president.
The clip of Western wool this year is estimated
to exceed that of 1851, from 10 to 15 per cent.
In the State of Ohio alone, the clip is now esti-
mated at from 12,000,000 to 14,000,000 pounds.
Abijah Lamed, the notorious burglar and
bank robber, was convicted on the 26th ult., in
Cooperstown, New York, of the robbery of the
Otsego County Bank, of $35,000.
Mr. Thomas Cole, a prominent and worthy
citizen of Salem, lately died of heart complaint,
aged 72. He was a graduate of Harvard Uni-
versity, in the class of 1798 — the class of Chan-
ning, Story and Tuckerman.
A Yankee writing from the West, to his fath-
er, speaks of its great matrimonial facilities, and
ends by making the following suggestion : " Sup-
pose you get our girls some new teeth, and send
them out."
Mr. Humphrey, a dyer in the employ of the
Staunton (Va.) woolen factory, was accidentally
precipitated into a vat of boiling water, lately,
and so horribly scalded that he died in a few
hours, iifterwards.
Hon. John M. Clayton is industriously culti-
vating his farm, three miles from Newcastle,
Delaware. Instead of running a race with com-
petitors in the political field, he is endeavoring
to distance his overseer in agricultural pursuits.
Madame Goldschmidt was met, on her arrival
in England, by an offer of six thousand pounds
for twelve concerts — a snm greater than has ever
been gained by a singer in Europe by a similar
engagement.
The supreme court of Pennsylvania is still in
session at Harrisburg. The one hour rule is en-
forced upon attorneys in making their arguments.
The vast amount of business on hand renders
the rule indispensable.
A rattlesnake was killed in Marion, S. C, re-
cently, measuring five feet eleven inches in
length, and eleven and three quarter inches
around the largest part of the body, with seven-
teen rattles and a button.
The report of the Board of Education of the
city of New York shows that there are 213
schools under its jurisdiction, having 40,035
scholar.5. The whole number of children taught
during 1851 was 116,600, and the whole expen-
diture for the year amounted to $309,016 51.
One of the stones in the Black Eock flouring
mills, near Buffalo, New York, burst, lately,
while making 190 revolutions per minute. The
foreman, Isaac Lap, and a hand named James
Gann, were seriously injured ; the latter, it is
feared, fatally. The building was much torn.
The telegraph wire near Galena, 111., was
struck lately by atmospheric lightning, and melt-
ed for about three hundred yards, and more or
less injured for half a mile. A spectator who
saw the stroke, describes the electrical exhibition
as a chain of fire, stretching both ways as far as
he could see across the landscape.
A large bald male eagle which, with its mate,
had inhabited " Dole's Woods," at Stroudwater,
Maine, and reared young year after year for
forty or fifty years past, was shot a few days
ago, by a person living in the vicinity. It had
lately got to be very ferocious, and did much
damage among the poultry of the neighborhood.
It was feared it might next attack children, and
it was shot.
J^onign lllisccllaug.
Sivori is playing in London.
The governor of Rangoon had offered 50 ru-
pees for every head of a white man.
The weather is cold, but not unfavorable to
the growing crops, which are looking well.
Mr. Hackett, the American comedian, is at
present in London, making up a company for
Niblo.
American books are now sold in England, at
the cost price of importation, with a small addi-
tion for commissions.
The Independent Dissenters of Lancashire,
England, are going to erect fifty additional inde-
pendent chapels in that county within the next
five years, at an expense of £150,000.
The persecuting spirit has arisen in various
parts of Germany, and the attacks seem to be
mainly directed against missionaries or colpor-
tcui^ supported by American and British Bap-
tists.
The recent foreign advices state that in Swit-
zerland the Jews are persecuted to the utmost
degree. In the cantons of Bale they have been
ordered to leave the country within ten days,
and to carry away their goods.
The new govemor of Malta, a strict Presb}'-
terian, has given offence to the military and in-
habitants by neglecting the carnival, shutting the
military up for three days, to prevent their par-
ticipation in the fun, and shunning all balls and
festivals.
A splendid work has just been issued from
the government press iu France, called " The
Siege of Rome," being a comprchensire account
of all the operations of the French army before
Rome in the summer of 1848. It is finely illus-
trated with maps and plans.
From Denmark, it is stated that the capital is
about to be endowed with a Crystal Palace, after
the designs of Professor Hetsch. This edifice is
to occupy a surface of four thousand eight hun-
dred square metres — and is destined for exhibi-
tion of the fine arts.
Rev. J. G. Oncken, while assisthig the pastor
of a Baptist church in Berlin, where they antici-
pated a time of revival, was ordered to leave the
Prussian territory without delay. He had been
banished in 1841, and again in 1846, but sup-
posed that these edicts were not now in force.
To those wlio have shall be given, is a true
saying, and therefore we are not surprised to hear
that a movement is on foot in London to pur-
chase, by public subscription, and the presenta-
tion to the Duke of Wellington, of Salter's pic-
ture of the Waterloo banquet.
lokcr'0 Buiiget.
Sanbs of ©oli.
.... True love and high morality are the
same.
Hasty people drink the nectar of exist-
ence scalding hot.
.... He who would die sooner or later than
he ought is a coward.
.... If you would not have affliction visit you
twice, listen at once to that it teaches.
.... He who loves his purse alone has set his
affections on the best thing about him.
.... With what different eyes do we view an
action when it is our own and when it is another's.
What we wish to do we think we can do,
but when we do not wish a thing it becomes im-
possible.
.... It were well if old age were traly second
childhood; it is seldom more like it than the
berry is to the rose-bud.
.... As we go on in life we find we cannot
afford excitement, and we leani to be parsimoni-
ous in our emotions.
.... Instead of regretting that we are some-
times deceived, we should rather lament that we
are ever undeceived.
.... As the heart is crushed and lacerated by
a loss in the afl^ections, so it is rather the head
that aches and suflf'ers by the loss of memory.
Cheerfulness is a matter which depends
fully as much on the state of things within as on
the state of things without and around ns.
The great struggles in life are limited to
moments ; in the drooping of the head upon the
bosom, — in the pressure of the hand upon the
brow.
.... Politeness is the outward ganuent of
good-will ; but many are the nutshells in which,
if you crack them, notliing like a kernel is to be
found.
Our minds are like ill-hung vehicles,
when they have little to cairy they raise a pro-
digious clatter, when heavily laden they neither
creak nor rumble.
.... What the impulse of genius is to the
great, the instinct of vocation is to the mediocre ;
in every man there is a magnet, — in that thing
which the man can do best there is a loadstone.
.... One Iialf of mankind pass their lives in
thinking how they shall get a dinner, and the
other in thinking what dinner they shall get;
and the first are much less injured by occasional
fasts than are the latter by constant feasts.
.... In matters of great concern, and which
must be done, there is no surer arg-ument of a
weak mind than irresolution ; to be undetermined
where the case is so plain, and the necessity so
urgent; to be always _ intending to lead anew
life, but never to find time to set about it.
The letter A makes men mean.
When is a fortune like an appendage to a
vessel •? AVhen it is amassed. (A mast.)
A coquette is said to be a perfect incarnation
of Cupid, as she keeps her beau in a quiver.
An inquiring individual wants to know how
many stories Dickens's Bleak House is to have.
" Wood is the thing, after all," as the man
with the wooden leg said when the mad dog
bit It.
Why is a beautiful lady's foot like a romantic
tale of olden times ? Because it is an interesting
leg-eml !
Why is a blacksmith like a counterfeiter 1
Because he makes a living hy forging. Take
your foot oft' that.
After all, there are only two sorts of disease,
says a French doctor — one of which you die, and
the other of which you don't.
The man who " cracks his sides " ten hours
after a man " cracks a joke," arrived late last
night, by a very slow coach indeed.
Dr. Francis says if young people would avoid
palpitation of the heart, they must give up hug-
ging and kissing. Youths who worship moon-
light will please notice.
A minister at camp meeting said, " If the lady
w^ith blue hat, red hair, and cross eyes, don't
stop talking, she will be pointed out to the con-
gregation."
Did you ever see a woman who did not want
a few more dry goods, or a young lady who did
not look upon a shawl that cost under ten dol-
lars, as " a perfect fright ?"
Suspect a man who shakes hands gingerly.
Knuckles, like walnuts, were made to be cracked.
A rascal knows no more about a hearty welcome
than he knows about contentment.
A dentist presented a bill for the tenth time to
a rich skinflint. " It strikes me," said the latter,
"that this is a pretty round bill." " Yes," re-
plied the dentist, "I've sent it round often
enough to make ic appear so ; and I have called
now to get it squared."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL.
We havo volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edgea
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at homi and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming avery
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
avast amount of original Tales, Sket<;hes, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether foruiing an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR MIOK,
AX ELEGANT, MORAL AND EEFINED
Miscellaneous Painily Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, ■\vritten expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEE FOR THE WOXICN,
AND A -WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weehly paper in the United Stales, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the daj',
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
©IBlKB'SSS'AILi IFAIFUlEg
tile present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO StrBSCRIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year ©2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " <' 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag op our Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawing-Room Companion, one year, for ©5-00.
tCT" Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
D:7= All orders should be addressed, POST PAID, to the
Publisher op the Flag of our Union.
%* Tne Flag can he obtained at any of the newspayc
depots in the United States, and of nnvspaper carriers, at
POUR CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
Publisher and Proprietor, Boston, Mass.
48
GLEASONS riCTOrjAL DRAWINd ROOAF COMPANION.
EESCUX OF RUEZ GOAZALEb. SCENE FROM ''THE HEARTS SECRET.
ANECDOTES OF CHARLES II,
The elder Rirliai-d.son ivas fond of tcllino: a
charjiclcristic story of tlie king and kingly honor.
A cut-pnrsc, or pickpocket, with as much cflion-
tery of face as dexterity of finger, had got into
the drawing-room on the king's hirthday, dress-
ed like a gentleman, and was detected, by the king
himself, taking a gold snutf-box out of a certain
earl's pocket. The rogue, wlio saw the sove-
reign's eye upon him, put his finger to his no?e,
and made a sign to the king with a wink to say
nothing. Charles took the hint, and watching
the earl, enjoyed Jiis feeling, first in one pocket
and then in another, for his missing box. Tiie
king now called the nobleman to him.
" You need not give yourself," he said, '* any
more trouble about it, my lord ; your box is
gone ; I am myself an accomplice ; I could not
help it — I was made a confidant."
"When told that the emperor of Morocco had
made him a present of two lions and thirty os-
triches, he laughed, and said he knew nothing
more proper to send by way of return than a
flock of geese. Of Harrow church, standing on
a hill, and visible for miles round, lie is said to
have remarked that it was the only visible church
he knew ; and when taken to see a fellow climb
up the outside of a church to the very pinnacle,
and there stand on his head, he off^cred him, on
coming do^^ii, a patent to prevent anyone doing-
it but himself. When he was on his death-bed,
the queen sent him a message that she was too
unwell to resume her post by the couch, and im-
plored pardon for any offence she had given him.
" She asks my pardon, poor woman," cried
Charles; " I ask hers with all my heart;" and
in his last moments he apologized to those round
him for the trouble he had caused. He had been a
most unconscionable time in dying, but he hoped
they would excuse him. — Stonj of Nell Givjn.
CREOLE HOSPITALITY.
The following \h an extract from N. P. AVil-
lis'rt hist letter from Martiniijue, Willis has a
(lisrcrning eye for whatever is tran.spiring; and
gathers tluiughts of interest where most other
persons would find notliing to elicit notice, or
awaken observation :
" I must incorporate, into thifi mention of the
Kuburlw of St. Pierre, an incident which occnn-i-d
to us on the other side of the city, and which
will illustrate the kind manners of these uuccri-
rnonitjus dwellers in tlic country. Mr. G. ami
myself had mounted the high liill which over-
looks the bay, shutting in the town on tlie south-
cm side, but' found it difficult to get a view with-
out encroaching upon the private girninds of the
beautiful villas which edge the decliviry. Seeing
a gate temptingly open, however, and which led
to a terrace overhanging a bold jirccipiee we had
walked under, we ventured in. The blinds of
the house were closed, as it was still the lingei"-
ing hour of the siesta ; but a scat stood invitingly
before us, and upon this we made ourselves com-
fortable, supposing we had done .'^o unobserved.
The city lay at a biscuit-toss beneath us, tlie
harbor spread away before, and the verdure-laden
mountains rose in grand magnificence beyond ;
and we were giving our eyes their first cursory
feast upon all this, when there was a rattle of
opening sliutters in the house behind. A bare-
footed ncgress was at our elbow the next mo-
ment, with the compliments of madame and a
request that we would walk in. Thinking that
we might have been mistaken for authorized vis-
itors, I explained that we were only intruders,
desirous of getting a view from the terrace, and
charged the servant with oin* apology and a hope
that we should not give the lady (jf the house
any trouble. We rose to go, with this, but, up-
on the portico liefore us, stood a tall and slight
lady, of a manner of very high-bred repose and
ea-sy self-po.ssession, who repeated the invitation
with a graciou-iuess it was impossible to decline.
We followed her into a large drawing-room fur-
nished with French elegance and liixuriousnesR,
aiul after enlightening her as to our country and
our purposes of travel, conversation turned ujjon
general topics, and a half-Jiour passed away verv
delightfully. Two lovely children bounded in,
after a whde, giving me an opportunity of de-
scribing those I had l(;ft at home, aiid, with
these more jjcrsonal topics, we wei'c soon as well
acquainted, at least, as a letter of introduciion
would have made us. The mingled ease and
dignity of our fair entertainer impressed my
friend as well as myself very strongly. It was
the French courtliness with the Creole abandon-
ment to indolent grace. The setting sun was
throwing its yellow rays into the room when we
rose to go, but it was with gi*eat difficulty wc re-
sisted a pressing invitation to remain to dinner,
or to take wine or some refreshment before leav-
ing. A request that wc would repeat our visit,
and a profusion of compliments in return for
our expressions of grateful pleasure, sent us on
our way with renewed wonder upon what planet
of unworldlincss wc had dropped — a feeling
which every new change we have as yet experi-
enced in Martinique, seems but to confirm and
brighten."
COIN PRESS AT THE MINT, PHILADELPHIA.
[See p. 40 for description.]
MAIN STEAM ENGINE AT TIIE MINT, PHILADELPHIA^,
I'^Qc p. 40
for .'.oflcviiiEinn.l
MICHAEL FARADAY.
Michael Faraday, England's most eminent
chemist, was borii in 1794, the son of a poor
blacksmith. He was early apprenticed to one
Ribcau, a book-binder, in Blandford street, and
worked at the craft until he was twenty-two years
of age. Whilst an apprentice, his master called
the attention of one of his customers, Mr. Dance,
of Manchester street, to an electrical machine
and other things which the young man had
made; and MrrDance, who was one of the old
members of the Royal Institution, took him to
hear the last four lectures which Sir Humphrey
Davy gave there as professor. Faraday attend-
ed, and seating himself in the gallery, took notes
of the lectures, and, at a future time, sent his
manuscript to Davy, with a short and modest
account of Iiimself, and a request, if it were pos-
sible, for scientific employment in the labors of
the laboratory. Davy, struck with the clearness
and accuracy of the memoranda, and confiding
in the talents and pcrscAxrance of the ^vl•iter,
offered him, upon the occurrence of a vacancy in
the laborator}', in the beginning of 1813, the post
of assistant, which he accepted. At the end of the
year he accompanied Davy and his lady over
the continent, as secretary and assistant, and in.
1815 returned to his duties in the laboratory,
and ultimately became FuUerian Professor.
Mr. Paraday's researches and discoveries have
raised him to the highest rank among European
philosophers, while his faculty of expounding to
a general audience the result of his recondite in-
vestigations, makes him one of the most attrac-
tive lecturers of the age. He has selected the
most difficult and perplexing departments of
physical science — the investigation of the recip-
rocal relations of heat, light and magnetism, and
electricity ; and by many years of patient and
profound study, has contributed greatly to sim-
plify our ideas on this subject. It is the hope of
this philosopher that, should life and health be
spared, ho will be able to show that the impon-
derable agencies just mentioned, are so many
manifestations of one and the same force. Mr.
Faraday's great achievements are recognized by
the learned societies of every country in Europe ;
and the University of Oxford, in 1832, did itself
the honor of enrolling him among her Doctors
of the Law. In private life he is beloved for the
simplicity and truthfulness of his character, and
the kindliness of his disposition. — Me/i of the
Times, {/i 1852.
A TOUCinNG INCIDENT.
The Louisville Democrat relates the following :
" An aged mother — a woman of seventy yearsof
age — left her home in the Emerald Island some
ten weeks ago, to seek the abode of her children,
who now reside at Louisville. Afier a tedious
passage, and the trouble incident to a long jour-
ney, she reached this city from New Orleans,
last Monday night, on board the Alexander
Scott, and soon she was surrounded by her chil-
dren. Her son was the first to see her, and he
hastened to inform his sister of their mother's
arrival. They met — the mother and thcdaugliter
— in one long embrace, which ouh- ended as the
infirm mother sank with excitement to the floor.
She had swooned away in the rapturous enjoy-
ment of beholding, once more, a daughter so
long lost. She pronounced a lilesying upon her
children, and fainted away. Whenever restorcl
to consciousness, the sight of her children, and
the pleasing recollection of their presence, would
overcome her with emotions, and again and
again she would faint in their arms. Physicians
were called to her aid, but could afford her no
relief. For two days she continued in this con-
dition, until worn out by fatigue and excite-
ment, exhausted nature gave way, and the
mother now 'sleeps well' in the new green eartli
of her new made home. How strange, how sor-
rowful, and !xow touching are the incident-: of
life."
■17 riT 1? \ anxr I corner bromfield
r . U-JjJ!iAOUiN , j AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, JULY 24, 1852.
©2 PER VOLiniE. 1 -17-
10 Cts. single, f V OL.
III. No. 4.— Whole No. 56.
HENRY CLAY.
"We are gratified to
present to our readers
tlie accompanying por-
trait of one of America's
favorite sons, whose re-
cent death, at a ripe old
age, has sent a thrill of
sorrowful feeling over
our land. Henry Clay
was born April 12, 1777,
in Hanover county, Vir-
ginia. His father was a
Baptist clergyman, of
small means, who died
when his son was only
five years of age. He
was one of a large fami-
ly of children, who were
left under the care of
their mother — a firm-
minded and truly excel-
lent woman. Henry's
early advantages con-
sisted in the privilege
of attending a common
country Virginia school ;
and such were the cir-
cumstances of the wid-
ow, that thus early, he
was obliged to contri-
bute to the support of
the family. His work
was generally on the
farm . At fourteen years
of age he was placed in
a small retail shop in
Eichraond, Va. The
next year lie entered the
office of Mr. Tinsley,
clerk of the high com't
of chancery, where
among other valuable ac-
quaintances, he attracted
the notice and acquired
the friendship of the dis-
tinguished and beloved
Chancellor Wythe — one
of the venerated signers
of the declaration of in-
dependence. With him
the poor orphan found
a patron and a home.
Under the direction of
his great benefactor, and
for the purpose of study-
ing his profession, he en-
tered tlic law ofiice of
Robert Brooke, attorney
general of the State. In
1797 he moved to Lex-
ington, Ky., where, be-
fore he commenced the
practice of the law, he
devoted some months
to severe study. Such
were the youthful trials
of this great man. The
foundation of liis long,
eminent, patriotic and
glorious career was thus,
not family, nor wealth,
nor titles, but talents, in-
dustry, integrity, and
worth. Our space will
not permit a like detail
of a progress alike hon-
orable to a people who
saw and appreciated liis
value as a man, and to
the patriot who devoted
himself zealously to the
public service. This
commenced in 1797,
when he toot part in the
PORTRAIT OF HENRY CLAY.
debates relating to the
call of a convention to
form a constitution for
Kentucky, and in 1798,
when he zealously en-
tered the field against
the celebrated alien and
sedition laws. As soon
as he was eligible, he
was elected to the Legis-
lature of Kentucky. He
was a leading member
until 1806, when he was
?ent to the Senate of the
United States, to fill the
place occasioned by the
resignation of General
Adir. This, however,
was only a fraction of a
term ; and at the close
of the session, Mr. Clay
was again chosen to a
seat in tlie Legislature.
He was speaker several
years. In 1809, he was
a second time elected to
the United States Senate
and to fill a fractional
part of a term. This
expired in 1811, when
he was elected a member
of the House of Repre-
sentatives. On the first
ballot he was elected
speaker, which office he
filled with distinguished
ability. It is no more
than justice to remark,
that thus far Mr. Clay
had proved himself
equal, and more than
equal, to every place
wliich he had been call-
ed upon to fill, says the
Boston Post. Indeed,
he was a member of the
republican party, and so
signal had been his elo-
quence, his patriotism,
his influence and liis effi-
ciency, as to have had
attracted the eyes of the
nation. He nobly sus-
tained the administra-
tion of Mr. Madison and
the war of 1812. After
the conclusion of the
treaty of Ghent, Mr.
Clay, with Mr. Adams
and Mr. Gallatin, went
to London, where a com-
mercial convention be-
tween this country and
Great Britain was con-
cluded. Mr. Clay was
again elected to the
House of Representa-
tives in 1815, and again
made speaker. Subse-
quently, after t\vo years
absence from Congress,
he was re-elected in 1 823,
and again made the
speaker, which place ho
filled until 1825, when
he was appointed secre-
tary of State by John
Quincy Adams. Mr.
Clay Avas speaker of the
House from 1811 to
1825, with the exception
of two years, dm'ing
which time he voluntari-
ly retired from congress.
\Sp-t^ pnqf fi4,]
50
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A ©TSHJAsr iPAiLiis ©If isnEiii'B'AiE'^ i^'^;;^S3''E"igiiiiio
Entcrad according to Act of Congress, in tlic year 1852, l)y F. Gleason, in tlio Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written liXI'ItEBSLY FOR GLEASOn's I'ICTORIAL.]
THE
imV'B SECiET:
OR, — •
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
BY LIEUTENANT MUKKAY.
[CONTI
CHAPTER VI— [continued.]
His temples burned still with the angry flush
that the insult of his superior officer had produced
there, and throwing liimsclf into a chair, he re-
called the whole scene at the theatre, from his
answering Isabella's friendly signal, until the
time when General Harero passed him at the
entrance, and for the last time reproved him.
He weighed the cause of these repeated attacks
upon him by his superior, and could at once di-
vine the cause of tlicm. That was obvious to
his mind at the first glance. He could not but
perceive the strong preference that General Ha-
rero evinced for Isabella Gonzales, nor could he
disguise the fact to his own heart that she cared
not a farthing for him. It required but a vei-y
simple capacity to understand this ; any party,
not interested in the general's favor, could easily
discern it. But the general counted upon his
high rank, and also upon the fact tiiat his family
was a good one, though his purse was not very
long.
Lorenzo Bezan remembered not alone the an-
noyance of that evening. He had not yet for-
gotten the insult from the general in the Paseo,
and coupling that with other events, he saw very
well that his commanding officer was decidedly
jealous of him. He saw, too, that there was not
any chance of matters growing any better, but
that on the contrary they must continue to grow
worse and worse, since he had determined, come
what might, he should pursue his love with the
fair lady Isabella.
Could he bear to be insulted thus at every
turn by such a man as General Harero ? No !
He felt himself, in courage, intellectual endow-
ments, birth, ay, everything but the rank of a
soldier, to be moi'c than his equal. His heart
beat quickly when he recollected that the latter
taunt and threat had been given in the presence
of Don Gonzales and his daughter. The malig-
nity, the unfairness of this attack upon him at
this time, was shameful, and deserved to be pun-
ished. Brooding upon these things alone and
at a late hour of the night, he at last wrought
himself up to such a point, perhaps in some de-
gree aggravated by his late wounds, which were
hardly yet healed, that he determined he would
challenge General Harero to martial and mortal
conflict.
True this was preposterous in one of his rank,
as contending against another so vastly his supe-
rior in position and influence ; but his feelings
had begun to assume an uncontrollable charac-
ter; he could not bear to think that he had been
thus insulted before Isabella Gonzales. It seem-
ed to him that she would think less of liim if he
did not resent and punisli such an insult. In the
heat of his resentment, therefore, he sat down
and wrote to his superior as follows :
" General Harero : Sir — Having received,
at different periods and under peculiar circum-
stances, insults from you that neither become me
as a gentleman tamely to submit to, nor you
as a soldier to give, I do hereby demand satis-
faction. It would be worse than folly in rac to
pretend that I do not undei-stand the incentive
that goveiTis you — 'the actuating motive that has
led to these attacks upon me. In my duty as an
officer I have never failed in the least ; this you
know veiT^ well, and have even allowed before
now, to my vci"y face. Your attacks upon me
are, therefore, plainly traceable to a spirit of
jealousy as to my better success with the Senorita
NUED.]
Gonzales than yourself. Unless I greatly mis-
take, the lady herself has discovered tliis spirit
within your breast.
"Now, sir, the object of this note is to demand
of you to lay aside the station you hold, and to
forget our relative ranks as officers in the Span-
ish army, and to meet me on the platform of our
individual characters as gentlemen, and render
me that satisfaction for the insult which you have
placed upon me, which I have a right to demand.
A line from you and a friend can easily settle
this business. Lorenzo Bezan."
Tliis note was carefully sealed and addressed,
and so despatched as to i-each its destination
early on the follow^ing morning. It was a most
unfortunate epistle for Captain Bezan, and could
the young officer have calmly considered the
subject, he would never have been so impnident
as to send it to liis superior. So long as he bore
the petty annoyances of General Harero without
murmuring he was strong, but the step he had
now taken greatly weakened his cause and posi-
tion. Perhaps he partly realized this as he sent
the note away on the subsequent morning ; but
he felt too much pride to relent, and so only
braced himself to meet the result.
The note gave General Harero wiiat he w^ant-
ed, and placed Captain Bezan completely at his
mercy. It gave him the opportunity to do that
which he most desired, viz., to arrest and im-
prison tlie young officer. Consulting with the
governor general, merely by way of strengthen-
ing himself, he took his opinion upon the subject
before he made any open movement in the prem-
ises. This ^yas a wary step, and sen-ed in some
degree to rob the case of any appearance of pei*-
sonality that it might otherwise have worn to
Tacon's eye.
The result of the matter was, that before ten
o'clock that morning the note conveying the
challenge was answered by an aid-de-camp and
a file of soldiers, who arrested Captain Bezan for
insubordination, and quietly conducted him to
the damp underground cells of the military pris-
on, where he was left to consider the new posi-
tion in which he found himself, solitary and
alone, with a straw bed, and no convenience or
comfort about him.
CHAPTER VII.
THE PRISONER.
To know and fully realize the bitter severity
exercised in the Spanish prisons, both at Madrid
and in Havana, one must have witnessed it.
Cold, dark and dreary cells, fit only to act as
supports to the upper and better lighted portions
of the dismal structure, are filled by those per-
sons who have incurred in any way the displeas-
ure of the military board of commission. Here,
in one of the dampest and most dreary cells,
immured with lizards, tarantulas, and other vile
and unwholesome reptiles, Captain Bezan, but
so very recently risen from a sick bed, and yet
smarting under his wounds, found himself. He
could now easily see the great mistake he had
made in thus addressing General Ilarero as he
had done, and also, as he knew very well the
rigor of the service to which he was attached,
when he considered for a moment, he had not
the least possible doubt that his sentence would
be death.
As a soldier he feared not death ; his profession
and experience, which had already made him
familiar with the fell destroyer in cvei-y jjossiblc
form and sliapc, had taught him a fearlessness
in this matter; l)ut to leave the air that Isabella
Gonzales l>reathcd, to be tlms torn away from
the briglit hopes that she had given rise to in his
breast, was indeed agony of soul to him now.
In tlie horizon of his love, for the first time since
his heart had known the passion, the sun had
risen, and the genial rays of hope, like young
spring, liad commenced to warm and vivify his
soul. Until within a very short time she whom
he loved was to him as some distant star, tliat
might be worsliippcd in silence, but not ap-
proached ; but now, by a series of circumstances
that looked like providential intei-fercnce in his
bcluilf, immense bairiei's had been removed.
Tliinking over tliese matters, he doubly realized
the misstep he had taken, and the heart of the
lone prisoner was sad in tlic depths of his dreary
dungeon.
Many days passed on, and Lorenzo Bezan
counted each hour as one less that he sliould
have to live upon the earth. At first all inter-
course was strictly denied him with any person
outside the prison walls, but one aftenioon he was
delighted as the doorof his cell was thrown open,
and in the next moment Ruez sprang into his
anns,
"My dear, dear friend!" said the boy, with
big tears starting from his eyes, and his voice
trembling with mingled emotions of pleasure and
of grief.
"Why, Ruez," said the prisoner, no less de-
lighted than was the boy, " how was it possible
for you to gain admittance to me ? You are the
first person I have seen, except the turnkey, in
my prison."
" Everybody refused me ; General Harero re-
fused father, who desired that I might come and
see if he could not in some way serve you. At
last I went to Tacon himself. 0, I do love that
man! Well, I told him General Harero would
not admit me, and when I told him all — "
"All of what, Ruez^"
" Wliy, about you and me, and sister and fa-
ther. He said, * Boy, you are worthy of confi-
dence and love ; here, take this, it will pass you
to the prison, and to Captain Bezan's cell ;' and
he wrote me this on a card, and said I could
come and see you by presenting it to the guard,
when I pleased."
" Tacon is just, always just," said Lorenzo
Bezan, " and you, Ruez, are a dear and true
friend." As the soldier said this, he turned to
dash away a tear — confinement and late sickness
had rendered him still weak.
" Captain '?"
" Master Ruez."
" I hate General Harero."
" Why so V
" Because sister says it is by his influence that
you are here."
" Did Isabella say that V
"Yes."
" Well, tell me of your father and sister, Ruez.
You know I am a hermit here."
Lorenzo Bezan had already been in prison for
more than ten days, when Ruez thus visited him,
and the boy had much to tell him : how General
Harero had called repeatedly at the house, and
Isabella had totally refused to see him ; and how
his father had n-ied to reason with General Ha-
rero about Captain Bezan, and how the general
had declared that nothing but blood could wash
out the stain of insubordination.
AVith the pass that the goveraor-general had
given him, Ruez Gonzales came often to visit
the imprisoned soldier, but as the day appointed
for the trial drew near, Ruez grew more and
more sad and thoughtful at each visit, for, boy
though he was, he felt certain of Lorenzo Bezan's
fate. He was not himself unfamiliar with mili-
tary examinations, for he was bora and brought
up within earshot of the spot where tlicse scenes
were so often enacted by order of the military
commission, and he trembled for his dearly loved
friend.
At length the trial came ; trial ! we might
with more propriety call it a farce, such being
the actual character of an examination befoi'e
the military commission of Havana, where but
one side is heard, and condemnation is sure to
follow, as was the case so lately with one of our
own countrymen (Mr. Thrasher), and before him
the murder by tliis same tribunal of fifty Ameri-
cans in cold blood ! Trial, indeed ! Spanish
courts do not try people ; they condemn them to
suifer — that is their business.
But let us confine ourselves to our own case ;
and suffice it to say, that Captain Bezan wai
found guilty, and at once condemned to die.
IliH offence was rank insubordination, or mutiny,
as it was designated in the charge ; but in con-
sideration of former services, and his undoubted
gallantry and bravery, the sentence read to the
effect, as a matter of exti-aordinary leniency to
him, that it should be pennitted for him to choose
the mode of liis own death — tliat is, between the
garote and being sliot ]>y his comrades.
" Let me die like a soldier," replied the young
officer, as tlie question was thus put to liim, be-
fore the open court, as to the mode of dcatli
which he chose.
" You are condemned, then, Lorenzo Bezan,"
said the advocate of tlie court, " to be shot by
the first file of your own company, upon the exe-
cution field."
This sentence was received with a murmur of
disapprobation from tlie few spectators in the
court, for the condemned was one of the most
beloved men in the sei-vicc. But the young offi-
cer bowed his head calmly to the sentence, though
a close observer miglit liave seen a slight quiver
of his handsome lips, as he struggled for an in-
stant witli a single inward thought. What that
thought was, the reader can easily guess, — it was
the last link that bound him to happiness.
Lorenzo Bezan had no fear of death, and per-
haps estimated his life quite as lightly as any
other person who made a soldier's calling his
profession ; but since his licart had known the
tender promptings of love, life had discovered
new chai-ms for him ; he hvcd and breathed in a
new atmosphere. Before he had received the
kind considerations of the peerless daughter of
Don Gonzales, he could have parted the thread
of his existence with little regret. But now,
alas ! it was veiy different; life was most sweet
to him, because it was so fully imbued with love
and hope in the future.
Wild as the idea might have seemed to any
one else, the young officer had promised his own
heart, tliat with ordinary success, and provided
no extraordinary difficulty should present itself
in his path, to win the heart and love of the
proud and beautiful Isabella Gonzales. He had
made her chai-acter and disposition his constant
study, was more familiar, perhaps, with her
strong and her weak points than was she herself,
and believed that he knew how best to approach
her before whom so many, vastly higher than
himself, had knelt in vain, and truth to say, for-
tune seemed to have seconded his hopes.
It was the death of all these hopes, the dashing
to earth of the fairy future he had dreamed of,
that caused his proud lip to tremble for a mo-
ment. It was no fear of bodily ill.
General Harero had accompUshed his object,
and had triumiihed over the young officer, whose
impetuosity had placed him within liis power.
Tlie sentence of death cancelled his animosity to
Lorenzo Bezan, and he now thought that a
prominent cause of disagreement and want of
success between the Senorita Isabella Gonzales
and himself was removed. Thus reasoning upon
the subject, and thus influenced, he called at the
house of Don Gonzales on the evening following
that of Captain Bezan's sentence, expecting to
be greeted with the usual courtesy that had been
extended to him. Ruez was the first one whom
he met of the household, on being ushered to the
drawing-room by a slave.
" Ah ! Master Ruez, how do you do 1" said the
general, pleasantly.
" Not well at all !" replied the boy, sharply,
and with undisguised disUke.
" I'm sorry to learn that. I trust nothing se-
rious has affected you."
" But there has, though," said the boy, with
spirit; " it is the rascality of human nature ;" at
the same moment he turned his back coldly on
the general and left the room.
" AVell, that's most extraordinary," mused the
general, to himself; " the boy meant to hit me,
beyond a doubt."
"Ah, Don Gonzales," he said to the father, who
entered the room a moment after, " glad to see
you ; have had some unpleasant business on my
hands that has kept me away, you see."
" Yes, very unpleasant," said the old gentle-
man, briefly and coldly.
" Well, it's all settled now, Don Gonzales,
and I trust we shall be as ^"ood friends as ever."
Receiving no reply whatever to this remark,
and being left to himself. General Harero looked
after Don Gonzales, who had retired to a
balcou}' in another purt of the room, for a
moment, and then summoning a slave, scut his
cai'd to Senorita Isabella, and received as an
answer that she was engaged. Repulsed in every
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
51
quarter, he found himself most awkwardly situ-
ated, and thought it about time to beat a retreat.
As General Harero rose and took his leave in
the niorit formal manner, he saw that his path-
way towards the Senorita Isabella's graces was
by no means one of sunshine alone, but at that
moment it presented to his view a most cloudy
horizon. The unfortunate connection of himself
witli tlie sentence of Captain Bezan, now as-
sumed its true bearing in liis eye. Before, he
had only thought of revenge, and the object also
of getting rid of his rival. Now he fully realized
that it had placed him in a most unpleasant situ-
ation, as it regarded the lady herself. Indeed
he felt that had not the matter gone so far, he
would gladly have compromised the affair by a
public reprimand to the young officer, such as
should sufficiently disgrace him publicly to satisfy
the general's pride. Butitwastoo late to regret
now, too late for him to turn back — the young
soldier must die !
In the meantime Lorenzo Bezan was remanded
to his dismal prison and cell, and was told to
prepare for the death that would soon await
him. One week only was allowed him to ar-
range such matters as he desired, and then lie
was informed that he would be shot by Iiis com-
rades in the execution field, at the rear of the
city barracks. It was a sad and melancholy fate
for so young and brave an otficer ; but the law
was imperative, and there was no reprieve for
him.
The cold and distant reception that General
Harero had received at Don Gonzales's house
since the sentence had been publicly pronounced
against Captain Lorenzo Bezan, had afforded
unmistakable evidence to him that if his victim
perished on account of the charge he had brought
against him, his welcome with Isabella and her
father was at an end. But what was to be done ?
As we have said, he had gone too far to retrace
his steps in the matter. Now if it were but pos-
sible to get out of the affair in some way, he said
to himself, he would give half his foitune. Puz-
zling over this matter, the disappointed general
paced back and forth in his room until past mid-
night, and at last having tired himself completely,
hoth mentally and physically, he carelessly threw
off his clothes, and summoning his orderly, gave
some imimportant order, and retu-ed for the
night.
More than half of the time allotted to the pris-
oner for preparation in closing up his connection
with life, had already transpired since his sen-
tence had been pronounced, and he had now but
three days left him to live. Ruez Gonzales, im-
proving the governor-general's pass, had visited
the young officer daily, bringing with him such
luxuries and necessities to the condemned as were
not prohibited by the rules of the prison, and
which were most grateful to him. More so,
because, though this was never intimated to him,
or, indeed, appeared absolutely obvious, he
thought that oftentimes Isabella had selected
these gifts, if indeed she had not prepared them
with her o^vn hands. A certain delicacy of feel-
ing prevented him from saying as much to her
brother, or of even questioning him upon any
point, however trivial, as to any matter of a pe-
culiar natm-e concerning Isabella. Sometimes
he longed to ask the boy about the subject, but
he could not bring himself to do so ; he felt that
it would be indelicate and unpleasant to Isabella,
and therefore he limited himself to careful inqui-
ries concerning her health and such simi)le mat-
ters as he might touch upon, without risk of her
displeasure.
Lorenzo Bezan took the announcement of liis
fate calmly. He felt it his duty to pray for
strength, and he did so, and sought in tlic holy
silence and confidence of prayer for that abiding
and inward assurance tKat may carry us through
the darkness and the valley of death. Ruez,
poor boy, was almost distracted at the realization
of the young soldier's fate. Boy though he was,
he had yet the feelings, in many respects, of
manhood, and though before Lorenzo Bezan he
said nothing of his coming fate, and indeed
struggled to appear cheerful, and to impart a
pleasant influenee to the prisoner, yet when once
out of his presence, he would cry for the hour
together, and Isabella even feared for the child's
reason, unless some change should take place
ere long.
Wlien his mother was taken from him, and
their home made desolate by the hand of death,
Euez, in the gentleness and tenderness of his
heart, had been brought so low by grief, that it
was almost miraculous that he had survived.
The influence of that sorrow, as we have before
obser\'ed, had never left him. His father's assid-
uous care and kindness, and Isabella's gentle
and sisterly love for him, had in part healed the
wound, when now his young and susceptible
heart was caused thus to bleed anew. He loved
Lorenzo Bezan with a strange intensity of feel-
ing. There was an affinity in their natures tliat
seemed to draw them together, and it was strange
what strength of consolation and happiness that
weak and gentle boy imparted to the stern soldier !
In his association of late with Kuez, tlie con-
demned officer felt purified and carried back to
childhood and liis mother's knee ; the long vista
of eventful years was blotted out from his heart,
the stem battles he had fought in, the blood he
had seen flow like water, his own deep scars and
many wounds, the pride and ambition of his
military career, all were forgotten, and by Ruez's
side he was perhaps more of a child at heart than
the boy himself. How strange are our natures ;
how susceptible to outward influence ; how at-
tunable to liarshncss or to plaintive notes ! We
are but as the ^olian harp, and the winds of
heaven play upon us what tunes they will !
It was midnight in the prison of Havana;
nought could be heard by the listening ear save
the steady pace of the sentinels stationed at the
various angles of the walls and entrances of the
comtyard that surrounded the gloomy structure.
It was a calm, ti'opical night, and the moon
shone so brightly as to light up the grim walls
and heaiT^ arches of the building almost as bright
as if it were day. Now and then a sentinel would
pause, and resting upon his musket, look off
upon the silvery sea, and perhaps dream of his
distant Castilian liome, then starting again, he
would rouse himself, shoulder the weapon, and
pace his round with measured stride. Lorenzo
Bezan, the condemned, had knelt, down and of-
fered up a prayer, silent but sincere, for Heaven's
protection in the feavful emergency that beset
him ; he prayed that he might die like a bi'ave
man, yet with a right feeling and reconciled con-
science with all mankind. Then throwing him-
self upon his coarse sti'awbed, that bai-ely served
to separate him from the damp earthen floor, he
had fallen asleep — a calm, deep, quiet sleep, so
silent and childlike as almost to resemble death
itself.
He had not slept there for many minutes, be-
fore there was heard a most curious noise under
the floor of his prison. At first it did not awaken
him, but partially doing so, caused him to move
slightly, and in a half conscious, half dreamy
state, to suggest some cause for the unusual phe-
nomenon. It evidently worked upon his brain
and nervous system, and he dreamed that the
executioner had come for him, that Ids time for
life had already expired, and the noise he heard
was that of the officers and men, come to execute
the sentence that had been pronouncet-l upon him
by the military commission.
By degrees the noise gradually increased, and
heavy bolts and bars seemed to be removed, and
a gleam of light to stream across the cell, while
the tall form of a man, i\Tapped in a military
cloak, came up through the floor where a stone
slab gave way to the pressure applied to it from
below. Having gained a footing, the new comer
turned the light of a dark lantem in the direction
of the comer where the prisoner was sleeping.
The figure approached the sleeping soldier, and
bending over him, muttered to himself, half
aloud :
" Sleeping, by Heaven ! he sleeps as quietly
as though he was in his camp-bedstead, and not
even under an-est."
As the officer thus spoke — for his cloak now
falling from one shoulder, partially exposed his
person and discovered his rank — the strong light
of tlie lantern fell full iq^on the sleeper's face,
and caused him suddenly to awake, and partially
rising from the floor, he said :
"So soon ? has my time already come'? I
thought that it was not yet. Well, I am ready,
and trust to die like a soldier !"
"Awake, Captain Bezan, awake!" said the
new comer. " I have news for you !"
" News 1"
" Yes."
" What possible news can there be that I can
feel interested in V
"Rise, and I will tell you," replied the other,
while he shaded the lantern with his hand.
" Speak on, I am listening," replied Lorenzo
Bezan, rising to his feet.
" I would speak of your liberty."
"My liberty? I am condemned to die, and
do you come to mock me ?"
"Be patient; the way is open, and you may
yet escape from death."
" And what should interest you. General Ha-
rero, in my fate ? Your purpose is gained ; I
am removed from your path ; why do you visit
me thus at this still hour of the night, and in so
extraordinary a manner by a secret entrance to
my cell V
" All this matters notliing. I came not here
to answer questions. On one condition you are
free. I have the means of your escape at hand."
*' Name the condition," said the prisoner,
though without exhibiting the least interest.
" There is a vessel which will sail for America
with the morning tide ; swear if I liberate you
that you will take passage in her, and never re-
turn to this island."
"Never!" said the soldier, firmly. "I will
never leave those I love so dearly."
" You refuse these tenns ?" continued the gen-
eral, in a hoarse tone of voice.
" I do, most unhesitatingly. Life would be
nothing to me if robbed of its brightest Iiope."
" You will not consider this for a moment ? it
is 3'our only chance."
" I am resolved," said Lorenzo Bezan; "for
more than one reason I am determined."
" Then die for your obstinacy," said General
Harero, hoarse with rage and disappointment.
Tlius saying. General Harero descended into
the secret passage fi*om whence he had just
emerged, and I'cplacing the stone above his head,
the prisoner heard the grating of the rusty bolts
and bars as they were closed after him. They
grated, too, most harshly upon his heart, as well
as upon their own hinges, for they seemed to
say, "thus perishes your last hope of reprieve —
yom- last possibility of escape from the fate that
awaits you."
" No matter," said he, to himself, at last, " life
would be of little value to me now if deprived of
the presence of Isabella, and that dear boy, Ruez,
and therefore I decided none too quickly as I
did. Besides, in honor, I could hardly accept
my life at his hands on any terms — he whom I
have to thank for all my misfortunes. No, no;
let them do their worst, I know my fate is sealed ;
but I fear it not."
With this reflection and similar thoughts upon
his mind, he once more tlirew himself upon the
hard damp floor, and after thinking long and
tenderly of Isabella Gonzales and her brother,
he once more dropped to sleep, but not until the
moniing gun had relieved the sentinels, and the
di'um had beat the reveille.
CHAPTER VIU.
THE FAREWELL.
The apartment in Don Gonzales's house ap-
propriated as Ruez's sleeping room, led out of
the main reception hall, and adjomed that of his
sister Isabella. Both rooms looked out upon the
Plato, and over the Gulf Stream and outer por-
tions of the harbor, where the grim Moro tower
and its cannon frown over the narrow entrance
of the inner bay. One vessel could hardly
work its way in sliip shape through the chan-
nel, but a thousand might lay safely at anchor
inside this i-emarkably land-locked harbor. At
the moment when we would introduce the reader
to the house of the rich old Don Gonzales, Isa-
bella had throAvn herself carelessly upon a couch
in her room, and half sighing, half dreaming
while awake, was gazing out upon the waters
that make up from the Caribbean Sea, at the
southward, and now and then following with her
eyes the trading crafts that skimmed the spark-
ling waters to the north.
As she gazed thus, she suddenly raised herself
to a sitting position, as she heard the suppressed
and most grievous sobs of some one near the
room where she was, and rising, she approached
the window to discover the cause of this singular
sound. The noise that had excited her curiosity
came from the next chamber, evidently, and that
was her brother's. Stealing softly round to the
entrance of his chamber, she went quietly in and
surprised Ruez, as he lay grieving upon a couch,
with eyes iilled with tears.
" Why, Ruez, what does this mean ? Art sick,
brother, that you are so depressed V asked the
beautiful girl, seating herself do^vn by his side.
" Ay, sister, sick at heart," said the boy, with
a deep drawn sigh.
"And why, Ruez?" she continued, gently
parting the hair from his forehead.
" How can you ask such a question, sister?
do you not know already?" he asked, turning
his deep blue eyes full upon her.
" Perhaps not, brother," replied Isabella, strug-
gling to suppress a sigh, while she turned her
face away from her brother's searching glance.
" Do you not know, sister, that to-morrow
Captain Bezan is sentenced to die?"
" True," said Isabella Gonzales, witli an in-
voluntary shudder. " I do know it, Ruez "
"And further, sister," continued the boy,
sagely, " do you not know that we have been the
indirect cause of this fearful sacrifice ("
"I do not see that, brother," said Isabella,
quickly, as she turned her beautiful face fully
upon her brother, inquiringly.
Ruez Gonzales looked like one actuated by
some extraordinary inspiration; liis eyes were
wonderfully bright, Ins expression that of years
beyond his actual age, and his beautiful sister,
while she gazed thus upon him at that moment,
felt the keen and searching glance that he be-
stowed upon her. She felt like one in the pres-
ence of a superior mind ; she could not realize
her own sensations. The hoy seemed to read
her very soul, as she stood thus before him. It
was more than a minute before he spoke, and
seemed to break the spell ; but at last — and it
seemed an age to Isabella Gonzales — he did so,
and said :
"Sister?"
"Well, Ruez?"
" Captain Bezan loves yon."
"Perhaps so."
" I say he does love you."
" It is possiide."
" I say he lores >/ou/' continued the boy, almost
steraly.
" Well, brother, what of that ?" she asked,
with assumed indifference.
" It is that, sister, which has led General Ha-
rero to persecute him as he has done, and it 13
that which has led him like a noble spirit to tuni
to bay."
A moment's pause ensued.
"Xs it not so, sister ?" he asked, still looking
keenly at her. " Have you not yourself intima-
ted tJiat Captain Bezan was to suffer owing to
his interest and services for us ?"
"You do indeed speak truly, brother," said
the lovely girl, breathing more quickly, and half
amazed at Ruez's penetration and prophetic
manner of speecJi.
"Alas!" said the boy, once more relapsing
into his former mood, " that he might be saved !"
" Has our father seen the governor-general,
Ruez ]" asked his sister, earnestly.
" Yes."
" And to no effect V
" None. Tacon, you know, is most strict in
his administration of justice, and lie says that if
he were to pardon one such breach of military
discipline as Captain Bezan has been guilty of,
the whole army would at once be impregnated
with insubordination."
" Would that I could see Captain Bezan, if
only for one single moment," murmured Isabella
Gonzales, half aloud, yet only to herself.
" Do you mean so, sister ?" asked Ruez, catch-
ing quickly at his sister's words, and with an
undisguised expression of delight written upon
his handsome countenance.
" Yes, no, brother, that is to say, if I could
see him with propriety, you know, Ruez ; that is
what I meant to say."
" Nothing easier, than for you to do so, if you
desire it," said the boy.
" Do you think so, Ruez ?" said his sister,
somewhat eagerly.
" Certainly, Isabella, my pass will serve for
you ^^Hth a trifling disguise."
" But our difference in size ; besides, you
know that my voice — "
" Will not be noticed by those stiff sentries, or
the turnkey," interrupted the boy. " They do
not know me at all, and would not suspect you."
" Ah ! but I can see many impediments in the
way of one of my sex," added Isabella Gonzales,
with a deep sigh.
Captain Lorenzo Bezan awoke on tlie day
previous to that appomtedfor his execution, with
a cheerful spirit. He found no guilt in his heart,
he felt that he had committed no crime, that his
soul was free and untrammelled. His coarse
breakfast of rude cassava root and water was
brought to him at a late hour, and having par-
taken of sufficient of this miserable food to pre-
vent the gnawings of hunger, lie now sat musuig
over his past life, and thinking seriously of that
morrow which was to end his career upon eartli
forever. A strange reverie for a man to be en-
gaged in — a most critical period — the winding
up of his earthly career.
[to ee continoed.]
*-^»^ »
* Desire not to live long, but to live ■well ;
Uow long Vie live, not years but actloas tell.
Walh/».t.
52
GLEASON'S PTCTOPJAL DUAWING ROOM COMPANION.
AN INTERESTING ILLUSTRATED SERIES OF VARIOUS SPECIMENS OF FISHES.
Our readers will
views given on this
piigo, of' various il-
tions of some of the
has over been a fa-
at this season of tho
hour is spent in fisii-
sports of the line
tible charm, luid they
hour, not only to
man, whoso daily
liim to adopt and
occupation, hut to
whiles away the lazy
the line and net.
in the present day,
nounco any culo<>y
fishing. Even those
men admit that its
cent and healthy;
favor in which they
the earliest ages to
slight testimony in
BANK RUNNER.
slight justification of any attempt to regulate and render henefi
cial the pursuit of them. It is certain that those who have once
enjoyed the pleasures of fishing require no recommendation to
continue them ; the relish for them, like the relish for anything
that is healthy and natural, increases with fruition, and "grows
with what it feeds on." All recreations, when properly conduct-
ed, resemble those intellectual enjoyments, wlierein pleasure, in-
deed, seems the means, but instruction as well as amusement
may be considered the end. And though, in the bar-
barism of tlie darker ages, man may have hunted, and
shot, and fished with as little care for improvement, and
as small a chance of increase of knowledge, as if he had
been a mere beast or bird of prey, modern times have
produced a great change in this respect. Philosophy
now gains stores of interesting facts from the laborious
pleasures of the intelligent sportsman ; our acquaintance
with natural Iiistory is improved ; and the most exciting
of amusements is made one of the best means of in-
struction. It is the characteristic of this age that noth-
ing can be done without receiving aid from science, and
nothing tliat receives such aid fails to impart added
stores of information to it in return. We have put off
the belief that men can do anything sufficiently well by
mere force of habit, and we insist on knowing why they
do a thing, and what are the various, and which are the
best, modes of doing it. The sportsman by rote is but
half a sportsman ; his range of pleasure is confined by
the want of knowledge, and even the things he sees can
hardly be said to be observed by liim, or to afford him
any pleasure but that derived from having by his skill
obtained possession of them. But he who has improved
his opportunities of knowledge has a double enjoyment ;
he has pleasant thoughts for his companions, his sports are better
conducted and more successful ; and while he bags his game with
tlie satisfaction of a victor, he marks and remembers its peculiar-
ities wath the eye of a naturalist. Who has not felt the enthusi-
astic bursts of feeling of old Izaac Walton, on reading his descrip-
tion of the prey he rook, the place of its capture, and even of the
means employed to tike it "^ And who his not felt how the po-
etic old angler must ha\e ic\Llkd m enjoyment, wheie a less cul-
he gratified with tlie sis and classification of Prof. Agassi/, of the finny tribes has added
and the sucrciMliiig to them many an item of interest. We cannot, of course,
liistratcd ri'ificr.i'nta- say anything new, but only reiterate the observations of those
iinnytrihcs. Angling who have made them tlieir study. Among the numerous varic-
vorite pastime, and ties of fishes which jicople our seas and rivers, we select tho fol-
^ear, many a jovial lowing as illustrations, appending some account descriptive of
lug excursions. The their habits, etc. Wonderful as it may appear to seo creatures
furnish au inexhau.s- existing in a medium so dense that men, beasts and birds must in-
bi-guilc many an evitably perish in it, yet experience proves that, besides those
the Iiardy fisher- species which we are in the daily habit of seeing, the very depths
sustenance compels of the immense ocean contain myriads of animated beings, to
follow tliis mode of whose very form we are almost strangers, and of whose disposi-
tlic amateur who tions and manners we arc still more ignorant. It is probable, in-
rimcin sporting with deed, that the fathomless recesses of the deep contain many kinds
It would be useless, of fish that are never seen by man. In their construction, modes
to affect to pro- of life, and general design, the watery tribes arc perhaps still
upon the sport of more astonisiiing than the inhabitants of either the land or the
who are not sports- air. Tlie structure offish, and their adaptation to the element in
pleasures are inno- which they arc to live, are eminent proofs of divine wisdom,
and the universal Most of them have the same external form, sharp at each end,
have been held, from and s-velling in the middle, by which configuration tliey are en-
thc present, is no abled to traverse their native element with greater case and swift-
tbeir behalf, nor ness. From their shape, men originally look the idea of those
vessels which are intended to sail with the greatest speed ; but the
progress of the swiftest sailing ship, with "the advantage of a fa-
vorable wind, is far inferior to that of fisli. Ten or twelve miles
an hour is no small degree of rapidity in the sailing of a ship;
yet any of the larger species of fish would soon overtake her, play
round her as if slie did not move, and even advance considerably
before her. The senses of fishes are remarkably imperfect; and,
indeed, that of siglit is almost the only 6ne which, in general,
DIPPING FOR TROUT AND GRAYLING.
tivated sportsman would barely have attained to a sense of satis-
faction 1 Knowledge, therefore, is sought by the sportsman, not
only as a means of sporting well, but of sporting pleasurably.
But the more he increases his amount of knowledge, the more he
desires to increase it; and thus bis powers of inquiry and obser-
vation are continually exercised, and by their exercise errors in
natural history are coxTCcted, and experience is acquired by him
for his own benefit, and for the use of other men. To facilitate
Ar
THE PIKE.
the accomplishment of purposes like these, books of all sorts have
been, from time to time, pul)lisbed on the subject of sports, and
these have for a short period satisfied curiosity, but have done so
only to heighten it afterwards. The natural Iiistory of fishes has
been the subject of learned investigation and research of late
years to a greater extent than ever beijore; and the critical analy-
FLIES USED IN FISHING.
they may be truly said to possess. But this is, in some degree,
compensated by their astonishing longevity, several species being
known to live more than a hundred years. The Pike, represented
below, and the first in our series of illustrations, is common
in most of the lakes of Europe, but the largest are those taken in
Lapland, which, according to Schseffer, are sometimes eight feet
long. They are taken there in great abundance, dried and ex-
ported for sale. According to the common saying, these fish were
introduced into England in the x-eign of Henry the Eighth, in
1537. They were so rare, that a pike was sold for double the
price of a house lamb, in February, and a pickerel for more than
a fat capon. All writers who treat of this species bring instances
of its vast voraciousness. We have known one that was choked
by attempting to swallow one of its own species that proved too
large a morsel. Yet its jaws are very loosely connected ; and
have on each side an additional bone like the jaw of a viper ;
which renders them capable of great distention when it swallows
its pi-ey. It does not confine itself to feed on fish and frogs; it
wilt devour the water-rat, and drawdown the young ducks as
they are swimming about. At the Marquis of Stafford's canal at
Trentham, England, a pike seized the head of a swan, as she was
feeding under water, and gorged so much of it as killed them
both. The servants perceiving the swan with its head under wa-
ter for a longer time than usual, took the boat, and found both
swan and pike dead. But there are instances of its fierceness
still more surprising, and which, indeed, border a little on the
maiwellous. Gesner relates, that a famished pike in the Rhone
seized on the lips of a mule, that was brought to water, and that
the beast drew the fish out before it could disengage itself: that
people have been bit by these voracious creatures while they were
washing their legs ; and that they will even contend with the
otter for its prey, and endeavor to force it out of its mouth. The
Carp, also illustrated on this page above, is one of the naturalized
fish in England, having been introduced there by Leonard Mas-
schal, about the year 1514. Carp are very long lived. Gesner
brings an instance of one that was a hundred years old. They
also grow to a very great size. These fish are extremely cunning,
and on that account are by some styled the River Fox. They
will sometimes leap over the nets, and escape that way ; at others,
will immerse themselves so deep in the mud, as to let the net
pass over them. They
are also very shy of
taking a bait ; yet at
the spawning time they ^
are so simple as to suf- ^^i^
fer themselves to be
tickled, and caught by
anybody that will at-
tempt it. It is so tena-
cious of life that it may
be kept alive for a fort-
night in wet straw or
moss. — The Gudgeon
is generally found in
gentle streams, and is
of a small size ; those
few, however, that are
caught in the Kcnnet
and Coin. Rivers in
England, are three
times the weight of
those taken elsewliere. The largest we ever remember to have
heard of was taken near Uxbridge, England, and weighed half a
pound. They bite eagerly, and are assembled by raking the bed
of the river; to this spot they immediately crowd in shoals, ex-
pecting food from this disturbance. The shape of the body is
thick and round; the irides tinged with red, the gill covers with
THE CARP.
gi-een and silver. The lower jaw is shorter than the upper ; at
eacli corner of the mouth is a single beard ; the back olive, spot-
ted with black ; the side line straight ; the sides beneath that sil-
very; the belly white. The tail is forked; that, as well as the
dorsal fin, is spotted with black. — The Sea-Trout, or Salmon-
Trout, migrates like the salmon up several of our rivers, .spawns,
and returns to the sea. The shape is thicker than tJie common
trout. The head and back are dusky, with a gloss of blue and
green, and the sides, as far as the lateral line, are mark-
ed withlarge irregular spots of black. The flesh when
boiled, is red, and resembles that of the salmon in taste.
The Bream, illustrated on the next page, as an item
of food is not equal to the Carp. It is found in all
the great lakes, and in rivers which have a gentle cur-
rent, and a bottom composed of marl, clay and herb-
age ; and it abides in the deepest parts. It is taken
mostly under the ice ; and this fishery is so considerable
that, in some of the lakes belonging to Prussia, there
have been taken to the value of two hundred pounds at
a time ; they are also caught in great quantities in Hol-
stein, Mecklenburg, Livonia and Sweden : in a lake
near Nordkioiping, there were taken at one time in
March, 1749, no less than fifty thousand, weighing
eighteen thousand two hundred pounds. It is extremely
deep, and thin in proportion to its length. The back
rises much, and is very sharp at the top. The head and
mouth are small. The scales are very large ; the sides
flat and thin. The dorsal fin has eleven rays, the sec-
ond of which is the longest ; tliat fin, as well as all the
rest, are of a dusky color; the back of the same hue;
the sides yellowish. The tail is very large, and of the
form of a crescent. — The Smelt is so common, and so
well known, as hardly to need any notice. Its form is very ele-
gant ; it is of a silvery color, tinged with yellow ; and the skin is
almost transparent. — Trout fishing affords excellent diversion for
the angler, and the passion for this pastime is very great. It is a
matter of surprise that this common fish has escaped the notice
of all the ancients, except Ausonius. It is also singular, that so
delicate a species should be neglected, at a time, when the folly of
the table was at its height ; and that the epicm-es should overlook
GUDGEON ANGLING.
a fish that is found in such quantities in the lakes of their neigh-
borhood, when they ransacked the u:iiiverse for dainties. The
milts of miirmncE were brought from one place ; the livers of scmH
from another; and oysters even from so remote a spot as Sand-
wich ; but there was and is a fashion in the article of good living.
The Romans seem to have despised the trout, the piper and tlie
doree; and we believe Mr. Quin himself would have resigned the
rich paps of a pregnant sow, tlie heels of camels, and the tongues
SEA TROUT.
of flamingos, though dressed by Heliogahalus's cooks, for a good
jowl of salmon with lobster sauce. The general shape of the
Trout is rather long than broad; in several of the Scotch and
Irish rivers, they grow so much thicker than in those of England,
that a fish, from eighteen to twenty-two inches, will often weigli
from three to five pounds. This is a fish of prey, hiv? u short
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
53
roundish head, blunt nose, and wide mouth, filled with teeth, not
only in tlie jaws, but on the palate and tongue ; the scales are
small, the back ash color, the sides yellow, and, when in season,
it is sprinkled all over the body and covers of the gills with small
beautiful red and black spots ; the tail is broad." The colors of
the Trout, and its spots, vary greatly in different waters, and in
different seasons ; yet each may be reduced to one species. It
sometimes attains the weight of four and a half pounds, but is
usually much smaller. It is much in request for the table. The
TIIE BREAM.
large species of trout which inhabit the larger lakes of Maine,
New Hampshire, and those about the sources of the Susquehannah,
have not yet been described or properly distinguished, that we
are aware of; indeed, it is possible that more than one species
has been confounded under the common ti'out. A gigantic spe-
cies of trout from Lake Huron, has been described by Doctor
Mitcliell. It is said to attain the weight of one hundred and
twenty pounds. The flesh is remarkably fat, rich and savory-
The specific name amethi/stlnus was applied on account of the
THE SMELT.
purplish tinge and hyaline tips of the teeth. We add some ob-
servations on the trout as an object of pui'suit to the American
angler. It is particularly abundant in New England, where the
w^aters and soil, being of a more Alpine character, are highly
congenial to the nature of this species of fish. They may be di-
vided into three principal classes, namely, pond trout, river trout
and sea trout. Of these, however, there arc as many varieties
and shades of difference as are known and described in England,
Scotland, and other countries; but, for all the purposes of the
angler, it is unneccssai-y to enumerate any others than
those above mentioned. Pond or lake trout vary in
shape and color. Their size is generally in proportion
to the extent of the \vater in which they are taken. In
Moosehead Lake, in Maine, they attain the enormous ^
weight of forty or fifty pounds, and, in the lakes of other ^~
States, are found of the average size of salmon. This
large description of trout are seldom taken, except
through the ice in winter, and consequently afford but -^^
little sport to the lover of angling. In the AVinipisseogee _
Lake, in New Hampshire, and Sebago Lake, in Maine,
the average size of the fish is about that of the largest
mackerel, which it also resembles in shape. The spots
upon these and other lake trout are seldom red, but
dark and indistinct, according to their size. The last
mentioned lake is one of tlie few in which the fish are
taken by the usual metliod of angling, for which they
are more esteemed, as affording good sport, tlian for
their flavor ; and the common impression is, that these
fish sprung from salmon, but that, having been prevent-
ed, by obstructions in the river, from entering the sea,
they have become, by confinement, degenerated in size
and quality, retaining only the color of the flesh. In
the interior lakes of New York, and in the great lakes
of the west, the trout grows to a vast size ; but these
lake trout, being coarse fish, and taken without skill, in
the winter only, are held in no estimation by the scientific angler,
lliver or brook trout are common in the New England States ;
but, much to the annoyance of the angler, they perceptibly dimin-
ish in proportion to the increase of mills and manufactories upon
tlie various streams. The size of this class of trout, and the color
of the skin and spots, are much alike in all, excepting that some
are of a more silvery hue than others ; and the color of the flesh
varies, perhaps, as it has been observed, according to their differ-
ent food, being sometimes perfectly white, sometimes of a yellow
tinge, but generally pink. There are also trout in various small
ponds, both natural and artificial, tliose taken from the latter be-
ing in all respects similar to the brook or river trout. This is to
be understood of ponds in the interior, as tlicre are many artificial
ponds, situated near the sea coast, at the head of inlets' from the
sea and tide-water, where the fish are very little inferior in size
and quality to those which arc taken where
the tide ebbs and flows. Of the three classes
of trout referred to, there is none so much es-
teemed as the sea trout, which maybe called —
migratory, in distinction from tliose which
have no access to the salt water. In the early
spring months, they are taken in great abun-
dance in the various salt rivers, creeks and
tide-waters upon the shores of New England
and Long Island, but more particularly in the
waters of Cape Cod, where the celebrated Wa-
quoit Bay, with other neighboring waters, lias
long been the favorite resort of the scientific
fisherman. As the season advances, these fisii
repair to fresh water, at which time, as well as
earlier, they afford great diversion to the
angler, by whom they are highly prized, not
merely for their superiority of form, color and
delicious flavor, but for the voracity with
which they seize the bait of the artificial fly,
and their activity upon the hook. In the
United States, as well as in Great Britain, this
fish is the great object of the angler's art, the
perfection of which is the use of the artificial fly. — The Barbel,
given below, was so coarse as to he overlooked by the ancients till
the time of Ausonius, and what he says is no panegyric on it ;
for he lets us know it loves deep waters, and, that when it grows
old it was not absolutely bad. It frequents the still and deep
parts of I'ivers, and lives in society, rooting like swine with their
noses in the soft banks. It is so tame as to suffer itself to be
taken with the hand ; and people have been knoini to take num-
bers by diving for them. In summer they move about during
night in search of food, but towards autumn, and during win-
ter, confine themselves to the deepest holes. They are the worst
and coarsest of fresh-water fish, and seldom eaten but by the
poorer sort of people, who sometimes boil them with a bit of ba-
con, to give them a relish. The roe is very noxious, affecting
those who unwarily eat of it with a nausea, vomiting, purging,
and a slight swelling. It is sometimes found of the length of
three feet, and eighteen pounds in weight: it is of a long and
rounded form ; the scales not large. Its head is smooth; Uie
nostrils placed near the eyes ; the mouth is placed below : on
each corner is a single beard, and another on each side the nose.
The dor&al fin is armed with a remarkably strong spine, sharpiv
serrated, with which it can inflict a very severe wound on the in-
cautious handler, and even do much damage to the nets. The
pectoral fins are of a pale brown color ; the ventral and anal tip-
ped with yellow ; the tail a little bifurcated, and of a deep purple ;
the side line is straight. The scales are of a pale gold color,
edged with black ; the belly is white. — The Tench is thick and
broad in proportion to its length : the scales are very small, and
covered with slime. The irides are red; there is sometimes, but
not always, a small beard at each corner of the mouth. The
color of the back is dusky ; the dorsal and ventral fins of the same
color; the head, sides, and belly of a greenish cast, most beauti-
fully mixed with gold, which is in its greatest splendor when the
fish is in the highest season. The tail is quite even at the end,
and very broad. — In the Char the head terminates in a blunt
point, and its body is covered with very minute scales ; the lat-
them. The largest and most beautiful chars are found in the
Lake of Winander-Mcre, in Westmoreland, England, where
there are three species, the red, the gilt, and the case char.
These kinds are nearly similar in their external appearance ; but
the time and manner of their spawning are very different. The
method of taking these fish is with nets, or trammels as they are
THE TENCH.
called, which are furnished with bait to allure the fish, and left
for several days, till they are known to enter them. Potted char
is a delicacy wliich is in high repute on the continent as well as
in England. — The Salmon, which was known to the Romans,
but not to the Greeks, is distinguished from other fish by having
t^vo dorsal fins, of which the hindermost is fleshy and without
rays; they have teeth both in the jaws and the tongue, and the
body is covered with round and minutely striated scales. Gray
is the color of the back and sides, sometimes spotted with blacli.
THE BARBEL.
TROUT FISHING.
eral line is straight. All the fins except the dorsal are reddish.
This species is very properly denominated the Alpine Char, by
Linnaius ; for its constant residence is in the lakes of the high
and mountainous parts of Europe. A few are found in some of
the lakes in AVales, and in Loch Inch, in Scotland ; from wliich
last, it is said to migrate into the Spey to spawn. Seldom, how-
ever, does this species venture into any running stream ; its prin-
cipal resort is in the cold lakes of the Lapland Alps, where it is
fed by the innumerable quantity of gnats that infest those dreary
regions. Tliis is a fish
which, as before re-
marked, is mostly con-
fined to the lakes of
the northern part of
Europe, and as it sel-
dom migrates much to
the south, has not been
much noticed by the
angler. In our own
waters it is but rarely
found, and hence is not
often noticed. In this
respect, it is unlike
many of the finny
tribes, which are found
under such different
circumstances, that
they afford pleasing
employment for the
naturalist in tracing
their varieties back to
their origin, and ar-
ranging in detail a mi-
nute classification of
THE CHAR.
and sometimes plain. The belly is silver}'. It is entirely a north-
ern fish, being found both at Greenland, Kamtschatka, and in the
northern parts of North America, but never so fiir south as the
Mediterranean. Salmon are now scarce in all our rivers south of
the Merrimack. In the Connecticut tliey were once so abundant
as to be less esteemed than shad, and the fishermen used to re-
quire their purchasers to take some salmon with their shad.
Within the memory of persons living, they were taken in plenty
even as far up as Vermont. The Indians used to catch a great
many of them, as they were ascending Bellows Ealls.
It is supposed that the locks, dams and canals con-
structed in the river, have driven this valuable fish away.
About the latter end of the year the Salmon begin to
press up the rivers, even for hundred of miles, to de-
posit their spaivn, which lies buried in the sand till
spring, if not disturbed by the floods, or devoured by
other fishes. In this peregrination it is not to be stop-
ped even by cataracts. About March the young ones
begin to appear, and about the beginning of May the
river is full of the salmon fry, wliicli are then four or
five inches long, and gradually proceed to the sea.
About the middle of June the earliest fry begin to re-
turn again from the sea, and are then from twelve to
fourteen inches long. Rapid and stony rivers, where
the water is free from mud, arc the favorite places of
most of the salmon tribe, the whole of which is supposed
to afford wholesome food to mankind. These fish when
taken out of their natural element vei-y soon die ; to
preserve their flavor they must be killed as soon as they
are taken out of the water. The fishermen usually
pierce them near the tail with a knife, when they soon
— die with loss of blood. — Recently, the Scotch commissa-
ries of fisheries have been adopting an ingenious device
for learning the migrations of the salmon. They have
marked a large number of fish hatched from the spawn
dejjosited last year in the Tweed, by placing around them a belt
or ring of India Rubber, numbered and dated. One of the fish
was caught, two days after being thus marked, and let go, a hun-
dred miles from the mouth of the Tweed. All fishennen taking
such marked fish are desired to take note of the weight, tl^e place
and date of capture, and various other particulars named in the
directions. The idea is decidedly a novel and very amusing
one, and may lead to valuable scientific discovery in regard to
the habits of the Salmon.
THE SALMON.
5t
GI.EASON'S PICTOllTAL DTlvVWING PJ)OM C01\IP ANION.
[Written for Oleimon's IMctoriul.]
A LEAF FROM TIII3 IIEAIIT.
IIY WIUIAM T. I11I.SEB.
IIiivo you foi-gottoii, clourcflt, the nlKlit wlion first wp nint?
Tbo raptuvoH of tliii-t bllHHful hour Htlll hiiuut my memory
yet;
The tcnilcr glanro Hhot from tliino oyos ou that auBpluiouB
eve,
And all the passions of my soul bcgau their hopes to
weave.
Time onward flew, the night wa« spont In joyouRnoHS
supreme,
Tlio future promised nauglit hut hope witli wliit-h to gild
uiy di-eam ;
■\\'o talked of elinics with grandeur rrowucd, where stately
palm trees fling
Their cooling sliadows on the ground',, wliero gayeat smiles
tlio spring.
Weeks had elapsed — a vision rose where two sat side by
side,
Each with an offering from the heart a beauteous bouquet
tied ;
"Wo each cxclianged, and dear to mo is still the boon you
gave,
Though long ago you "vo buried mine in cold obliviou's
grave.
The name of him have you forgot, the name that once was
dear.
The name of him who on thy cheek dropped sympathy's
chastti tear ;
lio who would have assuaged each care, and chased each
grief away,
And have you, then, forgotten him '! — 0, answer I but with
nay I
Ay I myriad ages yet the sum may tread his coui-ae on
liigh,
And each resplendent, twinkluig star illume the evening
sky ;
But while the i-cahn of memory reigns with reason's scep-
tre there,
The tablet of a doting heart shall thy dear image hear.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE THREE DOLLAR BILL.
SKETCH OF AN EVERY DAY TRUTH.
BEING A LESSON OF EXPERIENCE "WHICH
THOUSANDS MAY KEAD WITH PROFIT.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
*' Charles," said Sarah Ellerj to her hus-
bimd, as he was leaning back from the breakfast
table, " can you not let me have three dollars
this moruing "?"
" Three dollars, Sarah ? Why, what do you
want of it V
" Why," returned the wife, in a persuasive
tone, while a shade of anxiety flitted across her
face, "you know little Lucy needs an outside
gai-raent of some kind, for even yesterday she
came home from school crying from the effects
of the cold, and to-day it will be colder still.
Now Mrs. Robinson has a sack which she had
made for her little child, but as it is too small
she would like to sell it, and she offers it to me
for three dollars. It just tits Lucy."
"Well, you can get it, I suppose," said Mr.
Ellery, somewliat uneasily.
" But will you let me have the money,
Ciiarles?"
"No, Sarah, I could not to-day."
" Then I cannot get the sack," returned Mi-s.
Ellery, in a disappointed tone ; " for when Mrs.
Kobinson sells it she wants the money to get
another. If you could accommodate me to-day,
Charles."
"I cannot, Sarah; so tJiere's an end to it.
I've been wanting a new pair of boots this three
weeks, but I can't afford the money to get them.
You will have to fix Lucy up some way for the
present, and before long perhaps I can get her a
sack."
" And can't I have a sack, mama V asked the
child, a little, l)right-eyed girl of six years of age.
" Not now, Lucy. Pa hasn't got the money,"
answered her mother, endeavoring to soothe the
child in its disappointment.
"Not to spare," said Mr. Ellery, in a sort of
nervous, explanatory manner. " 1 have money
enough for that, but I have several small debts
that must be paid."
The child was bitterly disappointed, and l)eing
no longer able to control her grief slie burst into
tears. Mrs. Ellery looked sad and thoughtful,
nor could she repress the tear-drop that stole to
her eye.
" There !" uttered Charles Ellery, as he arose
from the tabic, and set his chair back with an
energetic movement, "that's always the way.
It'H nothing but money, money, money; and
then when I haven't got it, there must be a cry-
ing spell."
"0, you wrong me, CInirlcs," uttered Sarah
in an earnest tone, as she gazed reproachfully
up into her husband'H face. " Y(ju know tlnit
for myself I um willing to get ahnig almost
any way — even 1 stay away tVom cIiuitIi ratlicr
than call upon you for clothing ; but onr child
must go to scliool, and for her sake have I asked
this. It is the first time I Inive asked you for
money for over a monili."
Cbiirles Ellery felt like making some harsh
reply to liis wife's remark, Imt he could not help
seeing tluit she did not deserve it, and in an un-
hapi)y, discontented mood, he nu'ned and left
the house.
After her husband Inul gone, Mrs. Ellery en-
deavored to soothe her child's feelings ; but it
was with a heavy heart that she saw lier little
daughter start for school, for she knew that her
dress was insutiicient to protect her from the
weather, but she fixed the little one up as best
she could, and faintly hojiing that she might not
suffer, the mother saw licr child depart. In vain
was it that Mrs. Ellery tried to banish the un-
pleasant feelings that bad taken possession of
her mind, for long had slie suffered in silence
and alone ; and throughout the day she was sad
and unhappy.
Charles Ellery was a good mechanic, and he
worked very steadily, and his pay amounted to
ten dollars a week. His house rent was only one
dollar and twenty-five cents per week, his furni-
ture was all paid for, and his provisions did not
average over four dollars a week at the farthest,
and yet his wife and child actually suffered, at
times, for the want of clothing. Not that they
were ever ragged, or even short of decent wear-
ing apparel, but there were many little things
that would have really conduced to their com-
fort and happiness which they were obliged to
do without; and then, when the wife did obtain
some trifling article of dress, the money with
which to pay for it came so hard and ungra-
ciously, that she would almost rather have done
without it. There was another thing that added
to her weight of son-ows. Eor a long time her
husband had passed his evenings away from
home, even remaining away till midnight, and
often later, and that at such times he made fre-
quent use of alcoholic beverages ; but against
this she had never made a decided remonstrance,
for he had never returned to his home in a state
of intoxication, and she had no idea that what
little he drank could make much difference in a
pecuniary point of view. Y'ct Sarah Ellery was
not without her fears, and as night after night
passed, and found her husband absent so late
from his home, she eould not but tremble for tlie
future.
That night little Lucy returned from school
wet and cold ; and with a mother's fond care,
Mrs. Ellery changed her gai-ments and placed
her by the warm fire ; but a cold shiver seemed
to have taken possession of the child, which no
outward warmth could overcome, and the moth-
er Justly feared that her daughter would be sick.
Charles came home to his supper, and as the
events of the morning had passed from his mind,
he was comparatively happy and cheerful ; but
still he could not help noticing that his little
child was not so sprightly as usual, and that his
wife was sad and thoughtful. Then the thought
came over him that tins was the effect of the
morning's scene, and he became moody and
taciturn, and at length he took his hat to go out.
" Charles,*^ said his wife, in a kind, imploring
manner, " couldn't you stay with me this even-
ing 1 I'm afraid Lucy is going to be sick, and
it is so dark and stormy, that I really feel lone-
some. You used to spend your evenings witli
your wife."
"O, I'll be back in good season, Sarah. I'm
just going out to see what's going on. Lucy'U
do well enough, I guess."
" Then you will be at home early, wont you 7"
" Yes," returned Mr. Ellery, in a sort of hesi-
tating, undecisive manner; and without further
remark he left the house.
Now as Charles Ellery walked along away
from his home, he nu\dc up his mind that bo
would return early — he would look in at one or
two places where his companions were in the
habit of congregating, smoke a cigar, have a
little chat, and then rctuni. The first place lie
came to was an oyster saloon, kept by one of
his old friends, and as he entered, he was greeted
by a hearty ^Velcome from all hands.
" Come, boys," said one of the party, shortly
after Charles had entered, " let's shake for the
drinks."
Charles Ellery might have resisted a direct
invitation to drink, for IiiH appetite did not crave
it; but the accompanying amusement was so en-
tertaining, so Horial, that he could not say uo,
and flo he joined with the rest in the sport. The
dice-box was procured, and the party, eight in
all, commenced the game. Hound and i-ound
went the dice — one after another of the party
were freed from the "treat," and at length
Charles Ellery was decided the loser. Hot
brandy punches was culled for, and Charles paid
the bill — fifty cents— but that was nothing —
'twas mere sport; and witliout a thought, save
of pleasure, he threw a three dollar bill upon
the bar, from which to have the expense of the
eight "punches" taken. The sport was so ex-
citing that the dice-box was called for again, and
though Charles got clear of the bill, yet he drank
with the rest, and then a third time was tlie
game played, and a third time did Charles
Ellery drink.
All Imnds were now ready for amusement.
One thing after another was jiroposed, until it
was at length agreed to have a cosey game of
billiards. Had Charles been asked half an
hour previously to have gone on such a night's
entertainment, he might have said "nof but
now, with three glasses of brandy-punch sending
its fumes up into his brain, be most unhesitat-
ingly said "yes," and so to the billiard-room
they went, and it was not till the city bell struck
the hour of midnight that the part}' broke up.
When Charles Ellery left his jolly compan-
ions, he found that he had spent just three dollars ;
but the fumes of pleasing liquor still made him
feel happy, and he thought it a mere trifle wlxen
compared with the amount of social pleasure he
had received from it. With a light, easy step he
started towards his home, but ere he had been
long on the way, his step grew heavier, for he
happened to remember that he had promised his
wife that he would be at home in good season,
and when he entered his dwelling, it was not
without a sort of misgiving that he was not
doing exactly as he ought to do. He found his
wife with a thick shawl drawn closely over her
shoulders, sitting over the flre ; and as the gentle
Sarah cast her eyes towards him, he could not
fail to observe that they were red and swollen
with weeping.
" Why, Sarah, what are you up for at this
time of night ?" asked Charles, in a sort of won-
dering, uneasy tone.
"I could not go to bed till you had come,
Charles," said she, rising from her seat, and ex-
tending her hand to her husband. " And be-
sides, oiur child is very sick, 0, I liope Lucy
will not have the fever that is so prevalent
around us."
" 0, there's no danger, I guess," returned Mr.
Ellery, in a conciliatory tone. " Only a slight
cold — she '11 soon get over it."
" But she's very sick, Charles — vei^ sick ; and
I am really fearful that she is threatened with a
fever. I have done evei-ything for her I could,
however, and perhaps she may get over it."
Cliarles Ellery felt ill at ease. Not one word
had his wife said about his remaining so late
away from home, and as he began to realize
how much she had suffered in her loneliness,
his heart smote him with his coldness. Such
little attentions as Mrs. Ellery could bestow upon
her child were freely administered, but some
time ere the moniing dawned, Mr. Ellery found
it necessary to go for the doctor.
The first gray streaks of moniing were begin-
ning to relieve the gloom of the eastern horizon
when the doctor entered where little Lucy Ellery
lay.
"You should have called me last evening,
Mr. Ellery," said the physician, as he felt the
child's pulse, and examined her tongue. " Then
I might have broken up this fever, but it's too
late now. The disease is firmly seated." Then
turning to Mrs. Ellery, he continued :
"I'm afraid you have not been sufticiently
careful of your child. Y'ou say slie attended
school yesterday V
" Yes sir."
" Then her cold must have been very sudden,"
remarked the doctor, again turning to the child.
"However," lie added, in a sort of explanatory
manner, " we must all learn by experience. At
such seasons as the present, children cannot be
t6o warmly dressed when out of doors."
Sarah dared not look up at her husband, for
slie feared be Eiight misconstrue her feelings.
Charles dared not look at his wife, for he feared
to meet her tearful gaze.
"Mama," said little Lucy, in a weak, husky
voice, after the doctor liad gone, "my head
aches very hard. O, if I liad had that sack to
wear, I shouldn't have been sick, ehould I,
mama'?"
" Hush, my dear; perhaps when you get well,
papa will be able to get you one," said Mrs.
Ellery, as she drew llic bed-clothes over the
child, and smootlied her burning brow.
Like a long reverberating thunder-boll fell
these simple words upon the ear of Charles El-
lery. For the first time he began to see the
course lie was pursuing in its true light. He
had never meant to sin — lie had never meant to
wrong a human being, and in his most excited
moments of social frolic, he had never dreamed
that harm was being the result. His breakfast
was eaten in silence, and promising that he
would be at home to an early dinner, he went to
his work.
" Good God !" exclaimed Charles EUeiy, as
he stepped out into the open air. " Is it possible
that I have so long been sowing the seeds of
misery in my family! Yesterday moniing my
good, kind wife wanted three dollars to buy a sack
for our dear child. I could not spare it ! I did
think so then ; I did not mean to tell a lie. And
yet, last evening I spent that full sum for nothing
ay, worse than nothing, for even now my head
aehes, and my whole system is out of tunc from
last night's scrape. Now, my child is sick for
the want of that very three dollars. Then how
have I deceived and cheated myself. I need new
boots, and yet 1 have suffered in their want, be-
cause I thought I could not afford it ; and yet,
what I spent last night would have bought them,
and my money would have been a source of
lasting good ; but now I have made it a source
of lasting evil !"
In such meditation walked Charles Ellery to
his shop. A thousand scenes of the past came
back to his mind, and he saw a thousand pictures
of his ingratitude to his wife, his child, and him-
self. How many times had his wife wanted
some little article of comfort that he had denied
hex*, because he could not spare the money
— how many times had his child begged for
some small toy, which his scanty purse obliged
him to refuse — and liow often had he seen some
trifling article of food, clothing, or ornament,
which he would have been pleased to purchase,
but that he had not money enough ; and yet, on
each of such occasions, he could distinctly re-
member having spent double the sum which
his family's comfort required for a mere nothing
— for a worse than nothing ! Night after night
had he spent away from home, wasting his
money, his health, and his strength, while his
poor wife was lonesome and sad at home. How
much of useful reading he might have gained —
bow much of happiness bestowed upon his wife
— liow much money might he have saved, and,
above all, how much happier might he liave
been himself, had those evenings been spent
beneath his own roof!
Charles Ellery was not blind, and of course he
saw his en'ors. He was not lost to kindly feel-
ing and domestic love, and of course he resolved
to reform.
When Mr. Ellery returned from his day's la-
bor he found his child quite sick, but yet not dan-
gerously so. The doctor had left word for him
to go to the apothecary's after some medicine,
and after eating his supper he started off, and
though he met half-a-dozen of his old compan-
ions, each of whom urged him to join them, yet
he had no tliought save to return immediately to
his home ; and the kind, grateful look of his
wife, when he returned so speedily, sent a thrill
of pleasure to bis soul such as he had not expe-
rienced for a long time.
A week passed away, and every evening had
Charles spent at home with his wife. He had
read and conversed, and laughed and played
with his recovering child, and when Saturday
night came, he felt himself to be the happiest
man alive. In vain was it that he was urged lo
join again the social circles of his bacchanalian
companions, for his heart turned in loathing
away from their I'evelry, and he wondered how
he could ever have been so thoughtless as \o
have given them the preference over his own
sweet home.
" Sarah," said he, as he returned home on the
last evening of the week, "has Mrs. Kobinson
sold that sack yet '?"
"No, Chai-les."
"Then here are five dollars," said Mr. Ellery,
at the same time handing his wife a bill. " You
can purchase the sack, and then you will have
two dollars left, which you can use as you tliiiik
proper."
"But I'm afraid you cannot aflbrd this,
Cliarles," returned Sarah, looking half-wonder-
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWIXCx ROOM COMPANION.
55
inp:ly and half inquisitively iuto her husbiuid's
face,
"Afford it," uttered Charles, gazing tenderly
into his wife's kind features, " 0, my dear wife,
if my past neglect can be forgotten and forgiven,
I will afford everything that can conduce to your
happiness. Instead of paying my money for
useless, hurtful amusements, I will use it for the
comfort of my dear fiimily,"
" Charles," cried the enraptured wife, " I have
never blamed you. I have never found fault ;
but O, if you will make me happy by your com-
pany these long winter evenings, I shall be
happy indeed."
"And that company you shall have. In fact,
I will be a husband and a father," returned
Charles, with a proud, conscious look, and on
the next moment he folded liis wife to his
bosom. She wept, but they were tears of joy
that rolled over her cheeks, and she thanked
Heaven for the bliss of that moment.
The winter passed away, and the gentle breath
of spring wai-med the earth into life. Charles
EUeiy had put a new carpet upon his floor— to
his wife he had given a silk dress, and plenty of
other clothing, and to his child he had given
everything that her comfort and childish pleas-
ure could require. His evenings had been spent
at home, excepting on such occasions as his
wife might bear him company, and in his heart
lie knew that he was happier and better than be-
fore. To make his home happy, and to make
himself a useful member of society, were now
his highest aims ; and he firmly resolved never,
never again to mistake a false sociality for the
true sphere of his moral and social nature.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
EVENING.
BY JOHN F. JEFFERSON.
"VTan twiliglit 'neath the west is fading,
And sable night walks o'er the vale ;
Ten thousand stars are promenading.
On azure plains, by moonbeams pale.
The dewdrops on the hranchlets pending,
Appear like polished mirrors hright,
Where starry images are lending
To night's dull path their mimic light.
And now comes silence, softly creeping
Along the track that night doth tread ;
>Vhcre nature, weary soon, is sleeping,
Fast in her quiet, curtained bed.
Sweet sleep, that calmeth ail our sorrows ;
That gently wipes away our tears,
And bids us hope for bright to-morrows,
Exempt from conflicts, doubts and fears.
Thou art welcome, iwnsive, tranquil hour,
When day's perplexing labors close ;
When sleep^s enchanting, soothing power
Brings weary limb and thought repose.
1 ^a^ »
WAK,
If war has its chivaliy and its pageantiy, it
has also its hideousness and its demoniac woe.
Bullets respect not beauty. The}- tear out the
eye, and shatter the jaw, and rend the cheek.
Mercy abandons tiie arena of battle. The fran-
tic war-horse with iron lioof tramples iipon the
mangled face, tlie throbbing and inflamed
wounds, the splintered I>ones, and heeds not the
shriek of torture. Crushed into the mire by the
wdieels of heavy artillery, the victim of war
thinks of mother, father, sister, home, and moans
and dies ; his mangled corpse is covered witli a
few shovelsfull of eartli, and left as food for vul-
tures and dogs, and lie is forgotten. He who
loaths war, and will do everything in his power
to avert it, but who will, in the last exti'eraity,
encounter its perils, from love of countiy and
of home — who is willing to sacrifice himself
and all that is dear to him in life, to promote the
well-being of his fellow-man, will ever receive a
wortliy liomage. — Al)bot.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO MRS. E. CHANDLER.
BV MRS- R. T. ELDREDGE.
As some fair bud of beauty, rich and rare,
Watched o'er and guarded \vith unceasing care ;
Crushed by the spoiler's hand, decays and dies,
Ere half its beauty meets our longing eyes ;
'T was thus thy infant girl, so pure, so fair,
Faded and died beneath thy fostering care.
Ere the fair bud had burst into a flower,
To grace ■with beauty bright its native bower,
'T was crushed by death, and borne from earth away ;
The fairest buds oft earUest decay :
She was too pure on this cold earth to linger.
Death marked the bud with his destructive finger.
The youngest of thy fold, thy brigbt-eycd girl,
la home from thee unto the spirit-world ;
No grief, no pain can reach thy darUng there,
She "11 dwell forever free from every care ;
■T will calm the tumult in thy troubled breast,
To think and know thy loved one is at rest.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE LONE HEART.
BY JOSEPH H. BDTLEB.
Adieu, ye days of happiness,
Adieu, ye joys of youth ;
Life's river onward sweeps away,
And time reveals the truth.
He rends the flowery wreath that bound
Soft pleasure's lovely brow ;
And joys that charmed tbe bosom then,
Have lost their influence now.
The vision of romance no more
Can weave its potent spell ;
And love, though mtching be its power,
I bid a sad farewell I
Stem, dull and dark, the shadows lower
Before my sorrowing eye ;
Poor heart I there's httle left thee here.
Except the hope — to die I
The sea of life is wild and dim,
For sorrow's storm is here ;
My bark is drifting guideless on,
Where fatal rocks are near I
Once shone a guiding star for me,
Bright, beautiful and true ;
That star has set in clouds of death,
And darkness meets my view.
My path on earth was often strewed
With many a lovely flower j
But 0, they all have died away,
Beneath time's wasting power.
When sickness mth its iron grasp
Keeps watch around my bed,
I sigh for thee, my lovely one 1
AVhere has thy spirit fled ?
By stranger hands is coldly done
Each kindly oflice now ;
Since the dark waves of ocean roll
Above thy faded brow
Alone, alone, my spirit mourns
Over the scenes long past ;
A pilgi'ini on Ufe's rugged wild,
I tremble in the blast.
Just Heaven I why is such mournful lot
Accorded unto man?
Yet could our darkened vision see.
There 's wisdom in its plan.
Be still, my spirit ! wait His will,
Who holds creation up j
And strong in faith and hope, receive
From Him life's bitter cup '.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SUBIMER BOARDING.
BY MHS. E. WELL3IONT.
" But I should prefer to hoard whei*e at least
there was an air of gentility about the place,"
remarked Mi's. Pipps to her husband, in a some-
what irritated tone. " Do look at my neighbors ;
every one has gone to some fashionable watering
place, or at some noted hotel, while you arc
quite content to set yourself and me down in an
obscure fanii-house, wdicre the broom is liandled
by the hostess, and the butter clmrned by her
daughter ; and of what use is such a life ? I
know nothing of the world, I see no amusing
flirtations, have no reason for dressing for din-
ner in any different style, and for my evening
entertainment I am obliged to listen to you and
Uncle JeiTy, who talk only about mixing soils, or
tlic best mode of destroying caterpillars, or assign-
ing perhaps half a dozen theories to aid you in
solving the mysteiy of the decay of the button-
wood trees in the front garden. Now just think
w^hat interest, Mr. Pipps, can I be expected to
take in such conversation."
" But you forget the cheerful endeavors to
serve and please you which Aunt Kjzzy makes,
and her daughter Hitty, who offex'S to read to
you after their work is done, and the nice grid-
dle cakes, and tlie rich cream she so generously
mingles with the berries ; and above all, there
is Mount Canncl, where tlie high bushed black-
ben-ics grow in such clusters, of which I am
sure you are equally fond as myself. And all
tills, too, is furnished for so reasonable a com-
pensation; the trifling sum of Ave dollars a
week defrayed all our expenses, including wash-
ing, all the tune we stayed in this farm-house."
"All, there's the secret," continued Mrs.
Pipps ; " the everlasting scarcity of money
makes this place so desirable to you. Why
don't you make this excuse when you arc be-
sieged to give for political puiposes ? Por my
part, I should prefer to stay lialf as long and be
able to tell, when I returned, tliat I had seen
somebody. I don't care so much about the
salubrious air, nor the fine scenery, nor the rich
cream of which Mrs. Hobbs is so liberal ; I
should prefer to be where I could see distin-
guished people — genteel women who manage to
get at their husbands' purses and make a figure
in the world. Farm-house i-usticity does not
suit my taste, and I wont cqnccal the fact any
longer."
" But I have already written Uncle Jerry, to
know if they would be pleased to receive us
another summer upon the same terms as the
last."
" I hope you mentioned that to re-carpet our
chamber would be indispensable ; and the re-
moval of those old braided mats must be made
for a nice rug, and for my part, I shall insist
upon a thicker mattress — there is no use in pay-
ing one's money for nothing."
And now we mil leave Mi*s. Pipps to do bat-
tle with a vexatious musquito, and her liusband
to reconcile Iier to nistic simplicity, while wc
take a peep into tlie summer quaitcrs among tlie
green hills of Vermont. It is a charming loca-
tion. The farai-house is at tlie top of the hill,
and overlooks one of the most commanding
views, dotted ivith noi<;h')oring farm-houses, long
fields of waving corn, and now and then patches
of heavy red and white clover, which imparts a
fragrancy to the air and is enough to fill the
heart of a city recluse with ecstatic joy, not-
withstanding Mrs. Pipps's dissatisfaction.
But there is a discussion going on. Hitty is
the amanuensis, and sits biting her pen, await-
ing orders what to transfer to paper. It appears
that a day or two before Mi-. Pipps sent his re-
quest, Judge Conley was travelling through this
part of the countiT, and feeling the need of the
refreshing mountain breezes, he had inquired
whether he could be received into any farm-
house in the immediate vicinity, and an applica-
tion was made to Mr. Hobbs, the very person
with whom Mr. and Mrs. Pipps had boarded.
The judge was a widower ; a man of wealth,
Imt an admirer of nature. He sketched some ;
he ^rished for retirement ; was liberal in his
offers to remunerate our friends, offering the
same amount for himself as both Mr. and Mrs.
Pipps paid, and as he desired no change of
style, Mr. Hobbs was disposed to receive him.
And now came the question whether the Pipps
would be satisfied with smaller accomodations,
and whether, moreover, they really w^anted tiiem
on any consideration ; for it was apparent to
people of such good common sense, that JIi's.
Pipps's element lay in more fashionable society ;
so after a full discussion it was concluded that
tliey could not receive the above couple, and
Hitty was designated to put it in proper plu-ase-
ology, which, -witli her good education, was no
difficult task.
Upon receiving the reply, it w^as indeed a
wonder to the supei-ficial Mrs. Pipps how a
fanner's daughter could dictate such a delight-
ful note. " I am sure," said she, " I never saw
Hitty use a pen, but I alwa^-^s knew she had
studied grammar, and I have often wished, Mi-.
Pipps, we had treated the girl with more civility
when she came to the city last autumn ; but my
heart is so estranged from country cousins, I
acted naturally."
" And so, wife, after all, we cannot board in
our Green Mountain State — now where shall we
go?"
Mrs. Pipps immediately suggested advertising
in the evening papers ; it was late in the season,
all the fashionable quarters were occupied ; but
in a few days she received a statement of terms
from the landlord of a celebrated hotel, that a
small, unoccupied chamber was vacant, with a
privilege in the common parlor, which could be
improved at the rate of twenty dollars per week,
and Mr. Pipps determined to try the experi-
ment of " genteel boarding."
Mrs. Pii)ps was in ecstacy ; all her satins,
silks and bareges were refitted by the last fashion
plate, and slie was soon in free and easy conver-
sation with the Jones, the Hills, and the Gills ;
but she always scrupulously concealed the fact
that she had passed her two last summers in the
farm-house. She was careful never to introduce
her daughter Clarinda, who was at a boarding-
school, to Hitty Hobbs, and so the daughter liad
formed an idea of Miss Hobbs, as some awk-.
ward. Green Mountain hoyden, who knew only
how to do rough work, and would shame a city
maiden by contact.
Mrs. Pipps, however, in her new home, did
not find " genteel society " so comfortable as she
expected. There were cliques and jjartics ;
there were jealousy, aiid envy, and distmst. Mi*.
Pipps was known as the henpecked husband,
and sundry wives despised in others just what
they were guilty of doing themselves. The
small chamber they occupied was filled with un-
comfortable occupants ; the buzzing of flies, the
whizzing of musquitoes, and the glaring blaze of
the sun, compelled her to draw a comparison
between that large, neat room she occupied in
the farm-house, where the eiglit-day clock ticked
in the corner, and fresh bouquets appeared on
the mantle shelf. Yet a month's board there
cost no more than a week here — but gentiliti/
made the difference.
At the close of a sulti-y day towards autumn,
the busy rumor ran the rounds that a newly
married couple, of distinguished notoriety, had
arrived and would appear at table. Expectation
was on tiptoe, and the greatest preparations were
made for sight-seeing, when lo, at the head of
the table appeared Judge Conley and " she that
was Hitty Hobbs ! "
Mrs. Pipps could not control herself. She
ran and saluted the bride as her most intimate
friend ; she welcomed her — she expressed so
much regret at not passing the present summer
at her father's house — she should have been so
delighted wit!i Judge Conley's society, and that
same evening it was proposed they should ride
over to the seminary to be introduced to her
daughter Clarinda.
Mi-s. Conley did not, however, accept such
attentions at this time, when she did not need
them. She plainly added, with the refusal,
" Mi's. Pipps, my man-iagc has not deprived me
of my original identity. Wlien I visited you as
Hitty Hobbs, I was only a green country girl ;
my present position has added nothing to my
worth of character ; if I can ever oblige you I
shall be happy to do so, but I cannot accept
your present civilities."
Mrs. Pipps was so chagrined that she left her
boarding house the next day, but was never
after asliamcd to acknowledge that her most
agreeable summer residence was at the mansion
of Uncle Jen-y Hol)bs.
Ml-. Pipps had no difficulty in inducing her to
take any room she might obtain with her Green
Mountain friends tlie next summer. And al-
though Mrs. Conley spent her summers still at
her father's, yet she taught Mrs. Pipps such a
salutary lesson in her daily courteous conduct,
that she was never after heard to complain of
rustic simplicity, nor did she again en-vy those
who were cooped up in genteel boarding houses.
By degree's she learned to draw the distinction
between the artificial and the real, and though
often led to feel the effects of a supei-ficial edu-
cation and a misdirected taste, yet slie never
again manifested the foolish airs which an ill
bred lady is sure to assume when she departs
from her true position. Mrs. Pipps did improve,
and is now known as a quiet and interesting
woman, showing how good sense can triumph
over a vain mind.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO A FRIEiVD ON HER BIRTHDAY.
BY CAROLINE A. HATDEN,
Thou may'st look back with gladness,
For the by-gone years can bring
To thy youthful heart no sadness,
To thy memory no sting.
And if in life's sweet morning,
Some clouds have flitted o'er.
They have only made thy natm-e
More gentle than before.
Thou wert cradled in the bower
Of prosperity and love ;
And thy pathway all along through life.
Strewed with blessings from above ;
And if some drops of sorrow
Have been mingled in thy cup,
'Twas thy Father's hand the chaUee filled,
His mercy bore thee up.
Fair child of early promise,
This is thy natal day ;
And may'st thou, crowned with blessings,
Go rejoicing on thy way :
High mental gifts attaining.
And when the goal is won,
May each throb of thy heart be as pure and warm
As it was at twenty-one.
A GOOD TURN OFF.
William IV. seemed in a momentary dilemma
one day, when, at table with several ofiicers, he
ordered one of the waiters to " take away that
marine, there," pointing to an emjjty bottle.
*' Your Majesty," in(inired a colonel of ma-
rines, " do you compare an empty bottle to a
member of oiir branch of the service ?"
"Yes," replied the monarch, as if a thought
had sti'uck him ; " I mean to say it has done its
duty once, and is ready to do it again."
5G
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAW1N(J ROOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF THE CITY OF NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND.
WATERING PLACES IN THE U. STATES.
We have long had it in contemplation to pre-
sent onr readers with a scries of views represent-
ing the most prominent of tlic watering places
and summer resorts of our country, and it is
■with great pleasure that we are enabled this
week to commence the series witli a number of
views illustrative of Newport and its vicinity.
The "Island of Rhodes," as the first settlers
called it, was settled as long ago as 1638 (soon
after Roger Williams settled at Providence), by
a number of the friends of Mrs. Anne Hutchin-
son, who, like Williams, were driven from Mas-
sachusetts by the persecutions and arbitrary rule
of the leaders of that colony, to seek an asylum
in the then comparatively unknoivn wilderness.
Williams received the refugees with open arms,
and through his influence and that of Ids friends,
obtained a grant from the sachem of tlic Narra-
gansctts, Miantonimoh, of the beautifal island of
Aquitncck, and here, in this garden of America,
they located themselves, and planted a thriving
and prosperous settlement. Newport was set-
tled in the year 1639, and so rapid was its growth
to repletion, that previous to the Revolution it
excelled New York in its trade and commercial
advantages, and soon after that struggle it was
remarked that if New York continued to increase
as rapidly as it was then growing, it would soon
rival Newport in commerce ! But as our space
is limited, we will refer our readers to history,
for the rise and progress of Newport, and pro-
ceed at once to describe some of those interesting
objects and localities which render it so attractive
to the traveller and sojourner, and which our
artist has enabled us to lay before the readers of
the Pictorial. The large engraving at the top
of this page gives an excellent idea of the ap-
pearance of Newport as seen from the harbor.
The view is taken from Conanicut Island, with
portions of Rose and Goat Islands on the right
and left of the picture. There is nothing re-
markable or striking in the first view which a
stranger obtains of the city in approaching it
from the water. The harbor is one of the finest
in the world, and is an object of interest ;)«■ se;
but Newport derives its chief attractions from the
two splendid beaches on the south side of the
island, which afford facilities for sea bathing
unexcelled on this continent. During six months
of the year, or from November to May, the place
i§ comparatively deserted, and presents the ap-
pearance of an inland country town, but during
" the season" it is all bustle and activity. Crowds
of visitors throng its streets; gay equipages
rattle over its pavements, and the devotees of
fashion give a tone to its society, and a brilliancy
to its promenades and drives which changes at
once its appearance, and makes it a thriving
business place. In fact, one third if not one
half the population derive their means of liveli-
hood, throughout the year, from the receipts of
their business during the summer months.
Our second illustration represents the first
beach as seen from the top of the liill in the
neighborhood of the Ocean House. Here the
waves of old ocean come rolling in and break
with ceaseless roar upon a strip of hard, level,
sandy beach about half to two-thirds of a mile
in length, and extending back a quarter of a
mile to the edge of a pond or lake, formed by
the sea breaking over the beach dm-ing heavy
VIEW OF THE FIRST BEACH, NEWPORT, R. 1.
stoi-ms. Bathing houses are seen ranged along
the shore, while the numerous bathers present at
this distance the appearance of a colony of ants
huri-ying back and forth, to and fro along the
edge of the breakers which now and then sweep
over them, or throw them high and dry upon
the shining sands. A prominent object of curi-
osity to the visitor as lie enters or leaves the
harbor, is old Fort Conanicut, on the southern
point of the island of that name, which stretches
along the front of the city. This is the ruin of a
fort built by the British while they were in pos-
session of Newport, and although tijue has done
its work upon its weather-beaten crest, it still
" rears aloft its regal form," and at sunset when
the god of day sinks behind and brings out in
bold relief its rotund shape, it presents a very
picturesque appearance. Tlic people of Newport
have given it the appellation of " the dumpling,"
from a fancied resemblance to that edible. The
lighthouse seen in the distance on tlie right is
Beaver-Tail Light, on the extreme southern point
of Conanicut island. The greatest source of at-
traction, however, as well to the casual obsei-ver
as to the antiquarian, is the Old Stone Mill,
as it is called. This antique building stands
upon an open lot in front of the Atlantic House,
and is owned by Gov. Gibbs, whose residence is
shown in the background of the accompanying
engraving. Nothing whatever is known of its
history. The Indian had no tradition of its ori-
gin, and, although volumes have been written,
and theory upon theory has been adduced to
give it a name and a date, we are still as far as
ever from a satisfactory conclusion as to the pe-
riod of its construction, or by wliom it was built.
The savajis of Europe, the scientific societies of
this country, have all been at a loss on the sub-
ject, and thus it stands wrapped in the solitude
of its own mystery, an enigma which will never
be solved. It is built of unhewn stones, and lias
probably been covered with stucco, made of
coarse sand and shell lime, as remnants of that
material have been found adhering to some por-
tions of the interior. Just above the arches on
the inside, are niches designed evidently to re-
ceive floor timbers, and during the Revolutionary
war it had a temporary roof. But on the evacu-
ation of the island by the British, a keg of pow-
der was placed in the interior and fired, with the
evident intention of destroying tlic building. The
only damage done, however, was in blowing off
the roof, which carried with it about a foot of the
top of the wall. The island affords numerous
beautiful drives, over good roads, and there are
many objects of interest to attract the attention
of the lover of nature as well as the student of
history. To the latter we would more particu-
larly point out the birthplace of Gen. Nathaniel
Greene, in the immediate neighborhood of tho
city, and Gen. Prescott's head-quarters, about
three miles out. The fonncr is an old-fashioned
two-r,toried mansion, and does not differ materi-
ally from other mansions of the period, except
in the associations connected with it as the birth-
Slace of one of the bravest of American generals,
Fathaniel Greene, the Quaker. This alone,
however, is sufficient to immortalize it. Gen.
Greene's residence is situated about two miles
to the south from the town of East Greenwich,
on a small stream called Hunt's River. The
brook widens into a ])ond directly opposite the
front of the bouse, which stands on an eminence
perhaps two liundrcd yards from it. This stream
formerly tm-ned the wheel of a grist-mill, at
which, together with the anchor forge and bhick
smith's shop, Gen. Greene and his brothers were
brought up to work. The place has been famil
iarly called Potowomut from time immemorial,
]u-obably the Indian name of the stream. The
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
57
house fronts about soiitheast, which brings the
point of view nearly to the south. The house is
built of wood, and remains witli but very slight
alterations just as it was "when the general was a
boy. The window blinds are of modern date,
as well as many of the trees which now adorn
the grounds. It is now owned by a nephew of
Gen. Greene, JIi'. Richard Greene, Judge of the
Supreme Court of the State of Rhode Island,
and is occupied by him as a country residence.
The country quarters of Gen. Prescott were at the
house of a Quaker by the name of Oberton or
Ovcring, which is still standing about five miles
from Newport, on the western road leading to
Bristol Ferry. The view given herewith was
taken from a point southwest of the house, where
the road crosses a small stream which flows
through the grounds. Gen. Prescott while quar-
tered here was taken prisoner by a party of
Americans and can-ied to the American camp,
where he remained until exchanged. The room
in which he was asleep when aroused by his cap-
tons was on the second story, the corner room
nearest the eye of the spectator. The visitor
should not fail to ride out to Turkey and Butts's
hills, in the northern part of the island, where a
severe engagement took place during the Revo-
lution between the Americans under General
Sullivan and the British army at that time in
Rhode Island. The coal mines at Portsmouth,
and the observatory on 'Tonomy Hill, should
also be visited.
THE CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT.
The main portion of this sketch is taken from
" Lossing's Field Book of the Revolution," an
invaluable serial, published by the Harpers, New
York : " The British army, which was stationed
in Rhode Island during a portion of the Revo-
lutionary war, was under the command of Briga-
dier-General Prescott, a mean-spirited tyrant,
who sought every opportunity to vent his spite
upon the weak and defenceless inhabitants. Such
was the dislike in which he was held by them
that various methods and plans were prepared to
get rid of him or put him out of the way. It
was reserved for Colonel Barton, of Providence,
to propose and can-y out the most dangerous and
fearless enterprise that was conceived during the
war. Prescott was quartered about five miles
FORT CON.\NICUT, OPPOSITE THE CITY OF NEWPORT.
THE OLD STONE MILL, NEWPORT.
from Newport, where the main body of the British army was sta-
tioned. Almost in front of this mansion, and between the island
and the main land where the Americans were posted, lay three
British frigates with their guard boats, while just back of the
house was a squadron of troops, and on the front, at a short dis-
tance, was a guard house. On the night of July 10th, 1777, Col.
Barton, with a party of forty officers and men, embarked from
AVanvick Point in four whale boats, with muthcd oars, and crossed
over to Rhode Island, passing so close to the frigates as to hear
the " All's well " of the scntiy on deck, and landed in the mouth
of a cove formed at the mouth of the little stream in the picture
where it empties into Narragansett Bay. Dividing his men into
several squads, and assigning each its duty, they advanced with
the strictest or-
der and pro-
found silence
towards the
house. The
main body
went between
the guard
house and the
troopers' quar-
ters, while the
remainderwas
to make a cir-
cuitous route
and approach
from the rear
and secure the
doors. As Bar-
ton and his
men neared
the gate, a sen-
tinel hailed
quickly burst open. The general sprang from
his bed ; Barton placed his hand gently upon
his slioulder, told him he was his prisoner, and
that perfect silence was now his only safety.
Prescott begged time to dress, but it being a hot
July night, and time precious, Barton refused.
Throwing his cloak around him, and placing
him between two armed men, the prisoner was
hun-icd ashore. Major Barrington,Prescott's aid,
hearing the noise in the general's room, leaped
fiom a window to escape, but was captured. At
about midnight captors and prisoners landed at
Warwick Point, where General Prescott first
GEN. PRESCOTT'S HEAD QUARTERS, NEWPORT.
GENERAL GREENE's BIRTHPLACE; NEWPORT.
them tivice, and then demanded the countersign.
" AVe have no countersign to give," exclaimed
Barton, and quickly added, " have you seen any
deserters here to-night ?" The sentinel was de-
ceived by the question, and supposed them to be
friends, until his musket was seized and himself
bound, and threatened with instant death if he
made the slightest noise. The doors had been
secured by the division from the rear, and Bar-
ton entered the front passage boldly. Mr. Over-
ton sat alone, reading, the rest of the family be-
ing in bed. Barton inquired for General Pres-
cott's room. Overton pointed upward; Barton,
with five strong n^cn, ascended the stairs and
gently tried the door. It was locked, but was
broke the silence by saying to Colonel Barton,
" Sir, you have made a bold push to-night."
" We have been fortunate," eoolly repIied^Bar-
ton. Captain Elliot was there with a coach, to
convey the prisoners to Providence, where tliev
an-ived at sunrise. Prescott was kindly treated
by General Spencer and other officers, and in the
CQJirsc of a few days was sent to the head-quar-
ters of AA^ashington, at New AA^'indsor, on the
Hudson. He was exchanged for Gen. Charles
Lee in April following, and soon afterwards re-
sumed his command of tlie British troops on
Long Island. Congress subsequently voted Col.
Barton an elegant sword on account of the daring
bravery displayed by Imn on this occasion.
58
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Wi-ltton for GlcoHOn'fl IMctorliil.]
THE POET'S DRKAM.
BY MAllY N. JIBAIinollN.
In midnight Bleep T wimdorcil fur,
OVr " mount, iiiid viilo, ami utreiiin ;"
Ami t;lt>wing briffbt, hi fiuicy'M light,
ApiK'iircii ciifli HiiiiUng Mtorio.
Tho foniHtH rntig wiMi glndiloiu'il 8tmIiiB,
In cciiocfl wild rtiid 1'r-o ;
Mliilo distant IiUIb imd rippling rilla
llppliod In toucfl of gleo.
It seemed a type of lioavcnly life,
A gloiun of glory here;
A mct€Oi''H ray, to liglit our way
Doyonil tbo reuoii of fear.
WIxo ^vould not lovo to wander thus,
Afar from grief or euro ;
Since nought of strife or nialieo rifo,
Can have a being there !
From whence do tbeso bright di-camw arise,
And whore that fancied shore ;
Whose quiot rest doth calm the brcaat,
And t«ach tho poet's lore?
'Tis not of earth — it savors not
With iiught connected here ;
But, lent to cheer our upward (light,
Would claim a brighter sphere.
» — ^- >
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
MARK WARLAND:
FORTUNE AND FAVOK.
BY GEO. CANNING HILL.
Just at twilight, on a somewhat sultry day in
June, Mr. Mark Warlanil sat musing at his win-
dow. Now Mr. Mark Warland was neither a
housekeeper nor the head of a family. He was
simply a hoarder, and a single gentleman, at the
house of Mrs. Tompkins, in town.
Perhaps a more agreeable boarder than Mr.
Mark Warhnid proved himself, Mrs. Tompkins
never had. I will not now undertake to say how
that was. The reader shall be left undistui-bed
to the pleasure of his or her own inference. At
all events, he received fully his individual atten-
tion from the misti-ess of the mansion, as well as
from lier only daughter — a quite agreeable young
lady, by the by, — and a niece who came up to
town on frequent visits. To tell the trutli, these
two young ladies were very fond of making calls
upon Mr. Warland in his room, when he took
especial pains to regale them with such speci-
mens of gossip, fun, frolic and fantasy as he
could best command ; and the reader should
know, too, that Mr. Mark Warland was a gen-
tleman of great versatility of talent for entertain-
ing his friends.
He was sitting at his window, I said, just in
the curtaining gloom of a June twilight, not such
a green and leafy twilight as one gets in the
country, but only a twilight fonned by the com-
bination of bricks, mortar and coming darkness ;
and his head rested thoughtfully upon his hand.
His eyes were following the street passers slowly
and dreamily, as if he botli felt deeply interested
in their welfare, and car^d and thought just no-
thing about them at all.
If he had lost himself in reverie, it was, for a
time at least, one of the most sluggish reveries
that ever flowed through a man's brain. He
seemed neither to think nor to care for anything
especially. It was not stupor, and it was not
thoughtlessness, but an union of both, quite as
strange as it is inexplicable.
While he still sat there dreaming, the drowsy
echo of tramping feet and dull echoes alone ris-
ing and mingling in liis silent chamber, the door
opened slowly, and a person entered. It was
Mrs. Tompkins.
"Aha!" exclaimed that lady, in her most be-
nign style, " you're in the dark, I see, Mr. War-
land."
"Walk in, walk in," returned her amiable
hoarder ; " I know I'm in the dark, Mrs. Tomp-
kins, but what of that"? Tm sure it's nothing
new for me."
"Dear, no," said the kind landlady. "I know
you must mean in matters of business. You
can't mean anything else. You are grown so
very facetious."
"I protest now, good Mrs. Tompkins," he
intcrniptcd.
"What?"
"No complimcntfi, I beg you. I aint in a
proper frame of mincl to receive them appreci-
atively."
"Well, well," retorted the lady, " I was only
going to tell you what Agnes — my own dear
Agnes — said."
"And wont you tell me, MrH. Tompkins?"
" Why — " and she stuck fast.
"Do tell me, Mrs. Tompkins," jdeadcd her
boarder.
" Why, it's only what she paid about your
growing so very funny, Mr. Warland. llu, ha,
lia! I declare, Agnes, my dear Agnes says you
have grown to bo the funniest man she ever
knew."
"Perhaps she doesn't know many," quietly
suggested he.
" Quite as many as I think is for her own
good," replied Mrs. Tompkins, with some empha-
sis. " But Agnes says she never saw l)ettcr
company than you are."
" Indeed!"
" Yes ; and she declares she had rather be an
hour in your society than ten minutes in that of
everybody else she or I ever knew."
" Worse and worse ! I declare, Mrs. Tomp-
kins, you embarrass me unspeakably !"
i*erhaps there might have been a spice of sar-
casm or irony in this speech of Mr. Warland ;
but, as it fortunately happened, Mrs. Tompkins
failed to apprehend it. It was spice she, per-
haps had never tasted.
Many minutes did the landlady of Mr. Mark
Warland persist in entertaining him in the twi-
light of that warm June day, and cliiefly witli
narratives of her daughter Agnes — her dear Ag-
nes. Her boarder listened patiently to it all.
Possibly she was convinced that he listened in-
tently. But that was quite another thing.
A pause of several minutes at length ensued,
during which Mark sat gazing out into the street,
apparently lost again in his dreams.
"Mr. Warland!" exclaimed Mrs. Tompkins.
He started, as if the sound of his very name
liad startled him.
" Well, iSL's. Tompkins," he replied.
" Arc you asleep '?" asked she, playfully. " I
thought you was ; and then there might be dan-
ger of your falling out the window, you know."
" No, I wasn't exactly asleep," said he.
"Dreaming'?" asked the landlady.
"No — yes — no, I was thinking."
"A penny for your thoughts, then," she add-
ed. " Why, you seem to forget that you've got
company to entertain. And what if Agnes — my
dear Agnes — should come in too ? Could you
so lose yourself if you heard her ringing laugh
here ?"
"Mrs. Tompkins," said he, "let mc beg you
not to mention her."
" Aha !" replied the scheming widow, " don't
be too modest now."
" But I'll tell you what I was thinking about,
if you'd really like to know," interrupted Mark,
anxious to keep clear of the delicate subject of
Agnes.
" Do. What was it, pray ?"
Mrs. Tompkins was really anxious to know.
" I was thinking about the trip I am going to
take to-moiTow into the country," said he, with
excessive deliberateness.
" You V exclaimed Mrs. Tompkins. " I had
not heard of such a thing before."
" No ; and I had not so much as thought of it
myself, until I got seated here by the window
and fell to thinking the subject over. But I be-
lieve I shall take the early train in the morning,
and be off."
" To what place V
" That I had not determined on yet," replied
he. " I shall do that after I get started."
Mrs. Tompkins perhaps sutfercd the suspicion
to cross her mind that her boarder was a singu-
lar genius. But if she did, he, at least, knew
nothing of it.
" Agnes has been wanting to go into the coun-
try this summer, too," added she, after a brief
but tlioughtful pause.
Mark Warland inwardly wondered where Ag-
nes did not want to go.
" She has said so much about it," continued
Mrs. Tompkins, with a persuasive roll of her
fine eyes ; but that was all lost upon her boarder
in the darkness.
Mark did not pretend to doubt the very plausi-
ble statement of his landlady.
" So you will certainly go in the morning?"
she continued.
" I tliink so."
"And alone, too?"
" O yes, of course."
"But don't know exactly where?"
"No, not yet."
" What a very queer man, to be sure !"
"Men arc all queer, Mrs. Tompkins," rejoin-
ed Mark Warlan<I, pleasantly. "It's only the
worn in tliatare reconcilable with common sense."
" You don't mean it, Mr. Warland ?" ex-
claimed Mrs. Tompkins.
" But indeed I do ; I never was more serious."
"Well, well, then," said she, rising from the
scat she had taken, "if you are going oft' as soon
as Jty the iirst morning train, then you will liave
many preparations to make. Good night;" and
she moved thi'ough tlie door.
" Shall Ann have ready ibr me a cup of coffee
early enough?" he called out after her.
" Certainly, certainly," replied Mrs. Tompkins.
Mark was left alone again. He sprang into
the middle of tlie floor at a single bound, and
spreading out his limbs in u somewhat theatrical
attitude, exclaimed aloud :
" It's forever Agnes, my dear Agnes ! Agnes,
in fact, will either be the death of me, or she will
lose her dear mother a boarder. I was going to
say I hardly cared which. I am going off al-
most on purpose to get rid of this. It's coming
upon mc much too fast. I can't bear it."
With such expressions, and many more such
thoughts, he proceeded to make the needful pre-
parations for his projected journey, such as pack-
ing his shirts, and dickies, and cravats, and ker-
chiefs, and shaving utensils, and brushes, and
books, and papers, and so forth, and so on, into
his capacious portmanteau. All this accom-
plished, he stepped out to make purchases of
such few articles as would be most needful for
him on his jaunt. In a short time he retm-ned
again, and went to bed.
With the sun, Mark Warland was up in the
morning again. Its golden bars let themselves
softly tlirough his slightly parted curtains into
his room, and the place seemed suddenly filled
with enchantment.
There was great confusion in tlie room, as one
would very naturally expect. Books and pa-
pers, and chairs and tables, and bedsteads, and
trunks, were heaped togetlier in intricate disor-
der. Nothing seemed in its place, and every-
thing seemed out of it.
Mr. AVarland had hardly finished his moniing
ablutions, to which, on tliis morning, was to be
added the operation of shaving, when there came
a knock at his door.
"Breakfast!" called out the maid.
"Be down in a minute," replied Mark.
Ere long he was seated over his steaming
coffee, whose strong aroma filled not only the
dining-room itself, hut likewise the hall beyond.
As it must happen — though xmdoubtedly Mrs.
Tompkins knew best how it did happen — Agnes
was already seated at the head of the table when
he entered the room. He greeted her with his
customary morning smile and bow. She blushed
her usual morning-glory blush, and lisped his
name.
He hurried through with his breakfast without
pausing much at inter\'als to enlighten Agnes on
the subject of his journey, though that young
lady sat behind the huge cofFee-urn a perfect im-
personation of patience. She kept the draw-
bridges of hearing down all the time, eager that
not the slightest hint of the young gentleman's
destination should be allowed to pass over. But
Mark was obdurate at heart, or else he had not
even yet determined for himself where he would
go. Perhaps the latter.
Carpet bag in hand, and hat on his head, he
took his leave of Agnes, who had by this time
been joined by her anxious-looking mother in
the hall, and tripped off" lightly down the steps.
His heart was as fresh as morning dew. Why
should it not have been ? He was going into
the country, where dew was only thouglit to fall.
It was a short ride only in the cars, and from
the point of bis debarkation from them he began
a journey of about a dozen miles In the stage.
Nothing occurred during that ride to occasion
particular notice at the hands of the narrator,
and I therefore consign it to the general fate of
all stage-riders — forge tfulness.
The coach at length brought him to the place
of his destination. It was a secluded village
among the mountain ridges, with long stretches
of beautiful rolling land far away on its souther-
ly side.
There was a good hotel in the village, and
Mark Warland thought he should make out a
pleasant lime of it. He was as partial to crea-
ture comforts as any one else. Besides this, the
town was somewhat of a resort for summer trav-
ellers, and of consequence boasted not a little
of its excellent social privileges. There were
many ster'.ing and wealthy families there, among
some few of whom Mr. Warland hoped to bo
able lo pass a few weeks pleasantly.
He was shown to his room, and the first thing
he did wjus to seat himself in the big arm-chair
by the window, and lapse into u reverie. With
bis chin resting upon his Iiand, and his elbow
propped upon the window sill, he let his eyes
swim slowly up and down the village street, and
then flout silently into the leafy cloisters of a
huge elm tree, where they at length rested.
He thought of tlie old time and the new time.
Everything and evei-ybody were in his thoughts
togetlier. He wondered what sort of people
dwelt in tlie town of Elmgrovc; and asked liim-
self many times, unconsciously, let us hope, if
the hisses thereabout were as beautiful and jls
bewitching as his winged fancies had painted
them.
From this pleasurable state he was soon arous-
ed by being called to tea — n call that awoke his
senses fully. Having prepared himself hastily,
lie left his room and went down to partake of
that meal.
Wlien tea was over, he sauntered into the bar-
room, and thrusting a lighted cigar between his
teeth, proceeded to interrogate the vary commu-
nicative landlord quite freely respecting the char-
acteristics of the village.
" Plenty of society here ?" inquired Mi'. War-
land, blowing out a blue cloud from his curled
lips.
" Society? 0, a plenty of it, sir, here," i"es-
ponded Boniface. " You couldn't have come to
a much better place for that."
"That includes female society, of course?"
pur.sued the young man.
" Of course, of course," replied the landlord.
" There's a plenty of it here. A great many
visitors come to pass a part of the summer here;
and between one thing and another we manage
to make out a pretty lively season of it."
And Mr. Warland did not see, either, why
they could not. It was a really lovely place ;
there were all manner of facilities at hand for
comfort and enjoyment, and a plenty of good
society. Wliat more could reasonably be asked ?
He walked to the door, and went out upon the
street. Elms, huge-trunked and lcaf-cro^vned,
stood in long rows on either side, fi'om whose
roots to the edge of the road was a wide border-
ing of freshest gx'ass.
People were beginning to saunter in the cool
shadows of evening along the walks, old and
yoimg ; and the steady hum of voices that arose
on the air betokened nothing so much as settled
contentment and liappiness.
This evening was but a foretaste of what all
evenings would be to him in Elmgrove. He
should live in such a pleasant buzz all the time.
He would always hear just such pleasant sounds.
Always see just such pleasant sights. Perhaps
even plcasanter than these.
Two days had passed away. In that time,
Mr. Mark AVarland had fully acquainted himself
with everything, and almost everybody in the
neighborhood. By the politeness, too, of a
young gentleman, whose acquaintance he thonght
himself fortunate to make, he was honored not
long after with a very friendly invitation to make
one of an excursion party in the woods. It was
just what he wanted — just what he left town and
came out into the counti^ for.
The gentleman who thus early profFei-ed him
this mark of his friendship was Mr. William
Gregory. Mr. William Gregory, too, liad a sis-
ter. Perhaps this recollection haunted him ; and
perhaps we are too much swayed by prejudice in
the matter, likewise. He could not have been
much more delighted at the greatest strettk of
good luck. He already congratulated himself
that he had been so fortunate in his selection of
a summer lonnging-place.
The day of the projected picnic came. Mr.
Mark AVarland made all his preparations with
the nicest exactness. His toilet was after the
most approved styles.
It was a lovely airy summer afternoon, with
the cool winds drawing through the old elm-tops,
and swinging their pendulous boughs hither and
thither in the glistening sun. It was just the
time for a ramble in the woods. IIow much
pleasure Mark promised himself I
All bis equipments and arrangements were at
last made, and he held himself in readiness to
receive the call of his friend, Mr. Gregory. It
was not a long time, either, he was obliged to
wait; for his polite friend was soon rapping at
his door, and at length stood before him.
"I really hope you may enjoy yourself to the
utmost this afternoon," remarked Mr. Gregory.
"I shall certainly expect to," returned the
other.
" I cannot promise you any scenes you may
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
59
not lie filready familiar with," rejoined the other ;
*' but you shall have as much attention as we
know how to bestow on strangers here."
Mark could thank him only with a bow.
They started off together, intending to take
the house of Mr. Gregory in upon their way. It
was a delightful walk there, every step of which
seemed to increase JIark's pleasure. His com-
panion was very
communicative, and discovered
an extraordinary degree of kindness and hospi-
tality.
They came in sight, at length, of the mansion
of Mr. Gregory's fatlier. It was a fine large
building, standing some distance back from the
sti-eet on rising ground, and presenting an ex-
ceedingly imposing appearance. Mark noticed
with peculiar satisfaction the noble trees, and the
thick banks and walls of shrubbery, that stood
all around it. He felt already that the occupants
of such a place must be people of high social
standing and qualities.
They immediately entered the house, and
Mark seated himself by invitation in the spacious
and cool parlor. "V\Tiat a glorious place he
thought its four high w^alls enclosed, in which to
pass the dull and dreamy hours of a summer
afternoon. He had almost, if not quite, begun
to fall into a reverie upon the subject.
But his thoughts suddenly came back to him
again on beholding others enter the room. They
were Mi-. William Gregory and his two sisters,
so Mark at first supposed. They were all at-
tired for the pleasant picnic excursion into the
woods. The young man introduced the one to
his friend as his sister Augusta, and the other as
his cousin Mary.
The taller, and fuller, and prouder-looking
one was Augusta. Her face was full, and fair,
and alive with expression. She had a strange
appearance of pride and hauteur in her attitude
even, that struck Mark's mind perceptibly. Yet
he could not have described it if he would.
Mary, the cousin, was a girl of a much more
meek and trustful expression of countenance ;
born, as we often say, not so much to command
as to obey. Her eyes were blue, and heavenly
in their look. A sweet smile played continually
over her features that drew the hearts of others
to her almost unconsciously. She looked as if
she had labored and striven with almost su-
perhuman strength to school her tender heart
into some great resignation.
He received their salutations with equally
friendly and fervid ones of his own, and in a few
moments all started off together for the scene of
the afternoon's pleasure.
It lies not with me to tell, or to attempt to
describe, how the acquaintance of Mark with both
the young ladies that day grew ; nor how fast it
grew ; nor how soon it matured. These are
matters that the reader must leave to his o^vn
perceptiveness or imagination. Sufficient be it
to say, that before the afternoon had far advanc-
ed in the dim woods, he had become quite des-
perately in love with Augusta, Mr. Gregory's
sister ; while Mary, his cousin, was just as much
smitten with him. As it also strangely enough
happened, Augusta was not in the least impress-
ed with tlie attractiveness of Mr. Warland, while
he cared nothing at all, apparently, for Mary.
Matters had been thus singularly assorted by
fortune, and everything seemed to be at sixes
and sevens.
The rest of the day passed very agreeably to
Mark, far more so than he could previously have
suppo;.ed. Tliey all roamed, pretty much after
their own pleasure, through the far-stretching
woods ; some taking to the little skiffs on tlie
Inke that slept iu the shadows, and others gather-
ing flowers, and vines, and binding them into
wreaths, and aftenvards placing them upon the
beads of the particular objects of their admira-
tion. All seemed, as all tried to be, happy.
During the greater part of the time, Mark,
whose natural clear-sightedness had now appear-
ed to leave him, paid the most assiduous atten-
tions to Augusta. He waited upon her here, and
there, and everywhere. Wlicrever she went, he
seemed to be at her elbow.
It would be cruel, one would tliiiik, for a
young lady not to have been agreeably affected
by a com'se of such gallant attention ; but,
strange as it must seem, and sti'angely as it may
argue for her characteristics, she appeared quite
as indifferent to his addresses, as if she liad not
received them at all.
It was odd enough, but none tlic less time for
all tliat. Mark AVarland wss perfectly infatua-
ted with Augusta. He admired and had a secret
sympathy for Mary, ihe cousin ; but Augusta he
thought he loved.
They walked home together, lie and Augusta.
It was just in the shadow of the evening. How
his heart danced, and bumped, and palpitated.
How quick came his breath. How his very eyes
at times swam in his head ! The flittering of a
pale ribbon iu the playful wind almost intoxica-
ted him with an unspeakable joy.
It was late — quite late — that night when he
reached his room at the hotel again. He sat
down by his open window, and gave himself up
for a fall horn- to the most delicious dreams.
Days went by in this way for some time ; and
Mr. AVarland grew more and more enamored of
Augusta, allowing such a thing to be possible.
He waited upon her constantly at her house, day
after day, and evening after evening. Each time
he went there, he did not fail to see Mary, but ~
she was not the bright star of his attractions.
Matters went on thus for some time.
At length, as Mark found himself alone one
evening with Miss Augusta, each sitting at no
great distance from the other, and both veiy near
the open window, where they could see the glit-
tering moon upon tlie deep foliage, and feel the
fresh wind-breaths upon their temples, he ven-
tured to open to her the subject that so complete-
ly filled his heart.
He seized her hand, and told her in burning
syllables what his feelings were. No — he could
not have expressed them to her in words, he did
it by broken syllables, and sighs, and fond pres-
sures of her fair hand. He told her his love, the
whole of it ; its length, and breadth, and depth.
He assured her that for her alone he would be
willing to die. No infatuated lover ever plead
more eanicstly, or in more broken syllables.
She heard him through patiently. Did she
return such an answer to his petition as its sin-
cerity and fervidness demanded? No, no, no !
Poor Mark ! He was doomed to a very bitter
disappointment indeed.
It was evident that while Miss Augusta was
quite a good deal flattered with this declaration
of his preference, she at the same time cared but
little for him otherwise.
Hastily rising from her seat and releasing
her hand, she made some quite indifferent re-
mark, and went out of the room. The young
gentleman was thus left alone to his bitter re-
flections. No better way could a girl have taken
by which to express her disregard, or even her
contempt, for another's feelings. It cut Mr.
Warland to the quick.
When Augusta returned, her cousin Mary was
with her. She did not mean to have the subject
touched that evening, it was plain. Mark sat
only as long as might seem civil, and bidding
the young ladies a "good-night," left them.
Never seemed the night so dark, or the street
so lonely, to Mark before. He was plunged in
profoundest gloom. The sun seemed to have
gone out of his sky altogether.
He reached his room at the hotel at last, and
threw himself down in his chair by the window.
By that same window he had had the sweetest
dreams ; by it he was now undergoing the most
tortming realities. Was ever such chagrin 1
How quickly it almost turned to passion ! How
it quite boiled over in his now unsteady heart !
He wished a thousand times lie had never left
the city for a country tour. He thought he might
have been spared this mortification had he re-
mained at home.
He sat and thought it all over bitterly — his
hopes and his crushing disappointments. And
when he had at length arrived at the inference,
how it shocked him !
Augusta might have heard he was poor, and
so slighted his address. "Poor!" thought he;
and he spake the odious word aloud to himself.
" Poor !" That must have been the cause. He
was satisfied of it abundantly. And then he
went on to indulge Ins regrets, and repiuings,
and perplexities, to his heart's utmost desire.
While he was absorbed in this dismal and
highly unhappy mood, liis door opened, and the
communicative landlord stood before him. He
extended a letter towards his new lodger.
"This came by this evening's mail," said he,
looking inquiringly at Mark's expression.
The latter took it from his hand, and nanow-
ly inspected its Tuperscription by the light the
landlord had brought with him. It was in the
handwriting of AgTies — Agnes, the " dear daugh-
ter" of his old landlady in toivn.
He waited, with a considerable degree of pa-
tience, until the obliging host withdrew, and then
broke the seal. It was only a brief note from
Agnes, enclosing a letter that had reached his
boarding-place a day or two before. Since com-
ing to the country, we should have explained to
the reader that he had acquainted Mi'S. Tomp-
kins— not Agnes — with bis address, and request-
ed that any letters that might an'ive in his ab-
sence, should be sent to him. This was the fruit
of his request.
He broke the seal of the other letter and read.
As his eyes ran along over the lines, they grew
greater Avith astonishment. He read the letter
through to the last line witli exceeding excite-
ment. It was from the lawyer iu his native
town, a great many hundred miles away in
another State. The contents were to the very
agreeable effect that an old uncle who had just
died had left for his personal possession and en-
joyment a very handsome property, and that his
immediate presence there would be much for his
interest.
AVc will not stop to describe the excitement
that got hold upon Mark Warland at that mo-
ment. He rose from his chair, and his first im-
pulse was to dance and jump for joy. But other
and soberer thoughts at length entered his mind,
and on their suggestion he began to make the
needful preparations for his journey. He intend-
ed to leave in the moraing by early stage, and
hastened down stairs to apprize "mine host" of
his wish, explaining that his letter contained
news of importance, upon which he would be
obliged to absent himself immediately.
There was no leave-taking. He left to^vn
before they could have even breakfasted at the
Gregories, and not so much as a message had he
dropped for one of them.
We must now, as the novelists say, imagine
many months to have passed aivay. During that
time, perhaps, Augusta had heard of her new ad-
mirer's good luck, though the probability is that
she did not.
Summer came round again. It was yet early
in the season — early June. Mark Warland, now
a wealthy man, came back to the village of Elm-
gi-ove again, stopping at the old hotel, whose
still very communicative landlord was glad to
see and shake hands with him.
He called at the Gregories again, intending to
renew his acquaintance. Mi'. William Gregory
was exceedingly glad to see him, and introduced
him to the young ladies again. He had heard
of Mr. AVarland's new streak of luck, and paid
it and him deference accordingly.
Stopping in the village for several days, he
followed up his visits to that place with consider-
able assiduity. Augusta was now ready, and
perhaps desirous, to meet his advances ; while
Mary, the cousin, seemed disposed rather to
shun them altogether.
However matters might have been at first, Mr.
Warland determined to bring them speedily to a
termination. And he certainly did.
With as little preliminary pains-taking as pos-
sible, he passed silently by the proud beauty of
Augusta, and offered his hand and newly-found
fortune to her cousin. She accepted his suit,
and they were betrothed.
It was not for at least twenty-four hours that
Augusta heard of it. When she did, however,
her heart was full of wrath. She secretly planned
revenge upon Mark Warland.
And could Mary, her poor cousin, escape her
rage, either 1 No. She must be sacrificed, too.
She must be cruelly punished for the part she
liad permitted herself to take in this humiliating
affair. It was now kno%vn through the village
that Mr. Warland had recently inherited a large
fortune. How deep, therefore, was Augusta's
mortification on finding that she had been thus
passed over by him, and her poor cousin prefer-
red to her.
Mark sat in his room one evening again, think-
ing of leaving the village the next day for town,
there to cany out his aiTangements for his ap-
proaching marriage.
He heard a boisterous knock, or bang, upon
the door, and ordered tlie person outside to come
in. The door opened, and in walked Mr. Wil-
liam Gregory. He stepped briskly up before
him, and demanded to know, in a fierce and fu-
rious voice, why he had so treated the feelings of
his sister.
Mark Warland was completely thunderstruck.
At the first he hardly knew^ what reply to make,
or whether to make any. So he was, for a few
minutes, silent altogether.
"I will know your reason," continued the
other, loudly, "and at once! More depends
upon your answer than you can possibly be
aware of!"
This sentence only served to excite and aston-
ish him still more deeply. At length, however,
his lips were unsealed. He replied in a clear
and determined tone :
" Mr. Gregory, never, to my knowledge, have
I injured or insulted the feelings of your sister.
I do not know what you mean, by entering my
room and thus addressing me."
" Then I will not stop to tell you now," said
he. " Here is my card ;" and he flung it towards
him across a table. " You will hear from me
again, sir."
Without saying another word, the rampant
young man went out of the room.
Early the next moniing. Mi-. AYarland had
left town in the stage.
Three days afterwards, while still at his old
boarding-place with Mi's. Tompkins, he received
a letter, full of entreaty, and supplication, and
bestained likewise with tears. It was firom
Mary.
She plead for pcnnission to come to him at
once. She aveiTcd that her cousin's treatment
to her was such that she should soon die if left
to her tender mercies. And then she went on
with a narration of the cruel wrongs that had
been inflicted upon her since his absence.
It fired Mark Warland with a new spirit. He
could not endure that the betrothed of his heart
should suffer such, or any indignities, on his ac-
count. He sat dowTi to his table at once, and
wrote a long reply. He begged Mary to leave
her cousin's house at once and forever, and re-
mitted money to her with which to do so.
In two days more he sat by her side in a room
in one of the hotels of the metropolis.
They were speedily married, and departed to
take actual possession of the estate that had been
left Mark Warland by his generous and consider-
ate uncle.
There were not t^vo happier creatm-es any-
where than were these two ; nor certainly could
a more wTCtched one be pointed at than was
Augusta. She was left with her bitter reflections,
and her exceedingly sjinpathetic brother to his
own chagrin. The contempt with which Mark
treated him only served to add to the unpalata-
bleness of his thoughts.
Thus is it, that maniage is made quite as of-
ten to go by fortune as by favor. The true heart
at last obtained its recompense. We always re-
joice when it does.
[Written for GleaBon's Pictorial.}
TO A ROSEBUD.
BX C. JILLSON.
Thou art smiling, gentle rosebud,
Like a fair and artless child ;
And thy looks betoken pleasure free
From care or sorrow wild ;
But thy moments fast are fleeting,
For within a single day
Blushing tints will glow ^\ith grandeur,
And at evening fade away.
Kings and nobles love thy beauty,
And admire thy fragrance sweet ;
Maidens clasp thee to their bosoms,
And thy brief existence greet.
But they seldom know the meaning
Of thy blushes or decay ;
Scarce beheving they may perish,
And like rosebuds fade away.
POLISH HEROIS3I.
At the storming of Warsaw, the principal bat-
tery was only defended by two battalions, but
with .such bravery as history can hardly parallel.
AVhen it was evident that it could no longer hold
out, several privates of the artillery seated them-
selves on powder barrels and blew themselves up.
But the conduct of General Sowinski was truly
heroic : having lost one foot he was, at his ear-
nest request, seated on a chair, and placed on
the altar of the desperately defended church,
where he continued to give orders until the last
of his comrades was cut down, when, drawing
forth two pistols, he with one shot a Russian who
was rusliiug upon him, and with the exclama-
tion, " So dies a Polish general !" fired the other
into his own heai't. — Hislory of Poland.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO A KISS.
llumid seal of soft affection,
Tcnderest pledge of future bliss ;
Dearest tie of young connection,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss ;
Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion^s birth, and infant play ;
Dovelikc fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day. ,
Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action,
^^Tien lingering lips no more must join ;
1\niat words can ever speak affection
So thrilling, so sincere ns thine.
As there is no prosperous state of life without
its calamities, so there is no advcrsi*y without its
benefits.
60
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAAVING 110(JM (COMPANION.
TIIK VICTORIA Ri:«IA.
In 1801, Iliciu'kc, tliG celebrated botanist,
discovered, near tlie river Amazon, in South
Amoriea, the most marvellous plant the imng-
iiiation can conceive of. It was evidently a
iilunt rcsiinblin^ our nenuphar, or pond lily,
nut its^ij^autic pro])ortions j^ave it the appear-
ance of' a dream. In fact each of its leaves,
floatinp; on tho water, was not less than five
feet across, some even beinp; of (greater diam-
eter. The I)lossoms, at first white, but when
in full bloom showing a briglit rose-colored
centre, were twelve inches in diameter. These
plants covered 11 sort of pond for more than
a quarterof a Icugue. ILcncke, seized with
ndiniiation, fell upon his knees in the bottom
of his boat. lie died in the course of his trav-
els, and Iiis notes were not arranged till a
lonfj time after his death. In 1819 M. do
Bonpland, in his tour, had found the Victoria
Kcgia at Paraguay. He sent some of tho
seeds to Europe, but they did not germinate.
It seemed that llicncke's plant differed some-
what fi'om M. IJonpland's. Thus the plant
seen by M. Bonpland has leaves green on
both sides, while that of^ Hscncke had the
nndcr side of tho leaf of a violet purple.
Hence a great noise, because M. d'Orbigny,
who had met M. Bonpland's plant, in 1827,
on the frontiers of Paraguay, gave it the name
of Victoria Cruziana, and the same year sent
to tlic museum of Paris a drawing of it with
diicd flowers and leaves, while lie did not find
ILcncke's plant till 1833, one year after Pccp-
pig had met it, and given it the name of Eu-
ryale Amazonica, instead o( Aluriiru, by which
it was known among the natives. In the
year 1837, Sir Robert Schomburg, while exploring English
Guiana, sent a portrait of the same plant, Hrenckc's, to England,
designating it an the Ni/mphtra Victorm. In 1847, Mr. E.Gray
described it in the "^Botanic Journal," under the name of Victoria
Regina. Three months later, Doctor Lindley published Sir Rob-
ert Schombiu'g's drawings, and baptized the plant Victoria Regia.
■which wins the race, across the winning post
a thread is stretched, di|)ped in red lead,
which, the victor breaking it, leaves a red
mark on his chest, and this red mark is de-
cisive. To guard the course, a great number
of Roman soldiers under arms were arranged
on each side of it, from one end to the other.
The morning after the first race, I was silting
with the governor, when a message arrived
from the general, requesting that tlie race
might be deferred till another day, as he
tiiought the weather too cold to put tlie troops
under ann.^. The governor replied to him :
' That as the weather was not too cold for the
ladies, he thought it was not too cold for the
Roman soldiers.' I have seen on a day which
threatened rain a guard of Romans turn out,
every one of whom had an unibi'clla under
his arm, the drummer and filer alone excepted.
GLISS HOUSE FOR THL ^^CTORI V REGIA, AT GHENT
HORSE RACING IN ITAIiY.
The following description of horse racing in Italy, is taken
from M'Gill's travels : " The Iiorses run witliout riders, and, to
urge them on, little halls with sharp points in them are hung to
their sides, which, when the horse is employed in the race, act
like spurs. They have also pieces of foil fastened on their hinder
THE i;i»AS TREE.
We published some time since an account
of the discovery of a tree on the Isthmus of
I'anama, having many of tlie characteristics
of the noted Upas tree of tlic ]']ast, as it is
destructive to all animal and vegetable life
that comes within its baneful influence. A
number of the Panama Herald, received by a
late arrival, has the following additional no-
tice of this singular vegetable production :
" Riding out upon the 'Plains ' a few miles
fi-oni the city the other day with a friend, we
had the fortune to have several of these trees
pointed out to us. As far around each as its
branches extended, the ^rass was dead — the
ground almost bare, whilst all beyond was
fresh and green. Each tree seemed to form
a circle around it by the appearance presented by the dead and
live grass. They were all alike in this respect, and the trees all
of the same appearance and character. Occasionally the skull
of a dead mule or other animal was to be found lying eitlier di-
rectly under the tree, or nearby, indicating the effects of its deadly
poison. Anxious as we felt to procure a branch and bring it to
THE LILY BEFORE OPENING.
THE LILY IN FULL FLOWER.
Mr. Gray took umbrage. Hooker asked that it should be called
Victoria Regince for analogical reasons. Mr. Somcrby claimed
the name of Victoria Ainazonina, to conciliate it with the name
given by Poeppig. M. d'Orbigny had previously published his
claims in the " Echo of the Learned World." War was kindled
— a great deal of ink was shed, but yet the plant did not reach
Europe. In 1837 Mr. Robert Schomburg had sent roots,
which died upon the passage. In 1846, Mr. Bridges, a cele-
brated collector, went expressly to collect the seeds, and
brought them home in a jar filled with moist earth. The
Kew gardens bought twenty-five of them — two only of them
germinated, but the young plants perished almost immedi-
ately. In 1848 an English physician sent home both plants
and seeds. The roots arrived rotted, and the seeds did not
germinate. In 1849 some English people living at George-
town clubbed together and sent out an expedition of Indi-
ans, who brought them back thirty-five roots of the marvel-
lous plant — but the thirty-five roots all perislied. Finally,
two physicians, Messrs. Rodie and Luekie, sent some seeds
to the Kew Gardens. These seeds, transported in little
vials of pure water, arrived on the 28th of February, 1849.
On the 23d of March following, six plants were up and doing
well. One of these six plants, transplanted and cultivated at
Chatsworth, the residence of the Duke of Devonshire, flow-
ered the 8th of November, 1849. A second flowered on the
Duke of Northumberland's estate on the 10th of April, 1850.
Finally, a plant from one of the Chatsworth seeds, was sent
to Mr. Van Houtte, the celebrated cultivator of Ghent, on
the 26th of May, IS.'iO, and flowered for the first time on tlie
5th of September of the same year. This account is taken
from the complete history of the Victoria Regia, just pub-
lished by the " Flora of European Green-houses and Gar-
dens." This work contains a full description of the crys-
tal palace that Mr. Van Houtte constructed for his fair
guest, and the apparatus for heating and cultivating the
Victoria Rejria. Tlie glass ought to have a temperature of
28 degi-ces (Centigrade), which the sun raises to 35, and the
water a warmth of 29 or 32 degrees (Centigrade). An en-
tire volume is devoted to the Victoria Regia. With the in-
structions contained, any one can easily establisli a glass,
and commence the cultivation of this regal flower. Unfor-
tunately the amusement is costly, and few individuals are
likely to incur tlie expense. Wt hope, however, that the
Massachusetts Horticultural Society will make the experi-
ment. It is something they owe to their well-established
reputation.
parts, which, as the animal rashes through the air, makes a loud
rustlino; noise, and frightens tliem forward. I was much amused
at the horse races at Ancona. A gun is fired when they first start,
that preparations may be made to receive them at the ofher end.
When they have run halfway, another gun is fired, and a third
when they have arrived at the goal. To ascertain without dispute
the city that its fluids might be subjected to a chemical analysis,
we were deterred by the threatening appearance they presented.
We have no doubt as to the nature of the tree being as poisonous
as the deadly Upas of Java, long celebrated for its poisonous
qualities, which, however, have been very much exaggerated.
This latter tree belongs to the urticece, the same natural family
with the nettle, mulberry and bread-fruit. It attains large
dimensions, and is often more than a hundred feet in height,
with a trunk six feet in diameter at the base. The bark is
smooth and whitish ; the wood white ; the leaves caduceous,
and often crisped. The juice flows abundantly on incision,
is very viscous, bitter, yellowish, if from the trunk, but white
if taken from the younger branclies. The emanations from
this tree are dangerous to certain individuals, while, as in
the poison sumach, others are not the least affected by them.
Fioni the juice is prepared the frightful Upas poison. That
obtained from this tree, however, acts in a different manner,
and not so quickly as the Upastieiite. This last is the pro-
duct of a species of sfri/chnos, from the same countiy, a vine
which ascends to the summits of the highest trees. The
root is woodv, and about the size of a man's arm."
THE UNDER PART OF THE LEAF.
MUSICAL COFFEE POTS.
Two weeks ago we awoke, on a bright morning, and
heard such liquid notes as made us look with infinite disre-
gard upon the brick and mortar erections which fro\vn upon
us, giraficly, from all parts of this dusty city. At first we
CimsidiTcd that tiic wood-nymphs of some orange grove in
the far sunny South had benignly rcco<;ni7.cd the soce wants
of us cold Northerners, and had straightway dispatched
scores of winged messengers, as prophets uf summer's com-
ing delights. Our bed became suddenly distasteful to us —
■\^ e sprang up — listened ; a full chorus of bob-o'hnks, robins
and yellow birds greeted us in rich melodic variety ! We
advanced to the window — our eye wandered far and near, in
greedy hope of catching a glimpse of the feathered warblers,
and we were on the point of sinking into a state of uncom-
fortable disappointments, fancying that it was one of those
strnn^a' kinds of music sometimes heard from within our
mysterious being and then suddenly leaving us, when lo !
perched upon a fence close to our dwelling, were two ragged
urchins, attached to whose mouths were miniature leaden
coffee-pots, out of the spouts of which came the rare music.
Our Johnny considers this the great discovery of the age,
and we " discover" every morning, now-a-days, a shrill and
feeling confirmation of the opinion. — Musical World.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOI^I COMPANION.
61
rREDEEICK GLEASOX, Pkopkietor.
MAIUKIN M. BALLOU, Eiitob.
.^.■^"'.•^■-■'.'.-.■■.■V"..T.^-T,-^-V'->.'>.'^---.\"^\'>.->.-\,T._-l,V't%.^-,.->.--.-V"l.T-V V-
CONTENTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER.
"The Young Philosopher, a sketch for parents," a
story, by Sylvakos Cobb.
" Gen. ■\Vinfield Scott," an incident in the days of the
Canadian ReboLlion, by Geo. S. U.\y.«ond.
"Isabella,"' a story, by Eva Milford.
" Tlie Victim of Temptation," a prose eketch, by Mrs.
E. Wellmoxt.
" Presumption," Terses, by Wm. T. Hilsee.
" Attendant Angels," verses, by W. A, t'OGG.
" Humble Worth," verses, by Joseph Comer.
" Lines to Miss Augusta Eaton."
" Death at Sunset," verses, by Lelia Mortimeii.
"Letters," verses, by Edward Ashton.
" Ode to America," by Chas. II. Stewart.
" Lines to the late Hon. Henry Clay."
" The Woods," verses, by Joseph H- Butler,
ILLTJSTItATIONS.
We shall give our readers a fine picture of the Farm
School, Thompson's Island, Boston Harbor, sketched by
our artist, Mr. Mad-ry.
A second series of cuts relating to Niagara Falls, and a
most admirable set it will be, embracing, first, a grand
view of the Falls from the American side, a most original
and striking engraving ; second, a view of the factories ;
third, a grand and magnificent view of the Falls on the
Canada side of the river ; fourth, an admirable picture of
that wonder, only second to Niagara itself, the Suspension
Bridge across the immense span, and directly over the
rapid and deep running river ; fifth, the Light House ;
sixth and closing scene of the series will represent the
Grand Rapids, and the Horse Shoe Falls.
A large and magnificent engraving will be given, cover-
ing an entire page of the Pictorial, representing the Ite-
ception of the Hon. Daniel Webster in Boston, July 9th,
1852. by his fellow-citizens. This fine picture is by our
artist, Mr. Rowse^ and represents the procession and cor-
tege in all its splendor and most striking effect.
A1.S0 a second scene illustrative of the same event, by
our artist, Mr. Manning, representing the ceremony on
Boston Common, where Mr. Webster was formally wel-
comed.
A picture representing the remains of Henry Clay lying
in state at New York, as visited by thousands upon
thousands of the citizens of that city, by our artist, Mr.
Ckapui.
Also a fac-simile of the metallic Burial Case for the re-
mains of the illustrious st!it<^man and beloved citizen,
also by Mr. Chapin.
An interesting representation of the Dagger lately man-
\ifactured as a present for the Sable Emperor, Faustin
I., of Haj-ti, a very admirable picture, by our artist, Mr.
Wade.
We shall present a fine picture of Fetridge & Co.'s
Periodical Depot, Washington street,
A likeness mil be given of that queer and antique
specimen of humanity, the late Lord Timothy Dexter.
THE CINCINNATI AGENCY.
In answer to numerous inquiries as to the
agency of our paper in Cincinnati, we would say
to all that Mr. R. E. Edwards is not our an:ent,
and no business is transacted for this establish-
ment by him. Persons desiring our publications
in that city, or the State of Ohio generally,
should apply to A. C. Bagley, No. 10, West
Third St., who will answer all orders promptly
and konorahlif. "We may have more to say in a
future number relative to our Cincinnati agency.
SPLIXTEKS.
The Bostonians have been wilting under
some tremendous hot weather.
.... The Webster reception was certainly
ahead of everything of the sort yet got up.
The American yacht, Truant, has beaten
three Liverpool yachts already.
The Mayor of Cincinnati fined a po-
liceman, lately, $9, for gambling on Sunday.
The Boston Post is the fairest and most
respected party journal in the country.
We regret to see that the cholera is
raging at St. Louis and throughout the AVcst.
.... Uncle Tom's Cabin has had a large sale,
but the book is a perfect " mush."
Can any body tell whether the " bottom
is out" of Vermont Central or not ?
.... Twenty years is said to be the average
age of the graduates of Harvard College.
.... Our friends in Canada complain sadly
of the want of rain for vegetation.
.... The thermometer is usually highest at
two o'clock in the afternoon.
The ISr. T. Herald talks about Mr. Web-
ster's taking Mr. Lawrence's place at London.
.... Several persons in this vicinity have
lately died of sun stroke. Hot weather this.
The Scotch hoast a line of one hundred
and fifteen kings who reigned 2000 years.
.... Hungary, without the provinces annexed,
contains a population of 7,864,562.
GOLD! GOLD!
The abundant discover)- of this precious metal
in California seems to have been only the pre-
sage to its development as indigenous to various
other parts of the world. It is but about four
years since our auriferous treasures were first
brought to light ; and within less than a year
the colonics of New Soutli Wales and Victoria
have each shipped about one million's wortli of
gold, or two millions' wonli in all, ($10,000,000.)
And when it is considered that this has been the
product of unskilled mining, of labor untrained
to the peculiar employment, untaught by sci-
ence, unsustaiued by capital; that the number of
diggers has ever home the most insignificant
proportion to the extent and richness of the
field, and that every day new regions of aurifer-
ous deposits are foimd in almost every part of
the interior, to the north and to the south, as
well as to the west, some estimate as to what
Australia is to achieve hereafter, may be formed.
This million of gold produced in New South
Wales has been gatliered without any serious
detriment to other interests, says a Sydney pa-
per, and with the least possible disturbance to
public order and tranquillity. Our com fields
have still been cultivated, our sheep have still
been shorn. Our metropolitan city remains a
busy scene of commerce, and stately buildings
arc rising up in her streets. Our mining opera-
tions have assumed the character of settled in-
dustry ; our gold is collected without bustle or
confusion, and securely carried to mai'ket by tlie
regularly established government escorts, at
moderate expense to proprietors ; while the
quantities brought to town and shipped for ex-
portation, are reported in the newspapers as
well as those of any other of our raw produc-
tions. The admirable order which has all
along been maintained at our diggings, not by
military restraint, but by the good sense and
moral rectitude of a great mass of the diggers
themselves, is indeed a just cause of pride.
A ^^gorous stream of emigration, according
to the last news received from thence, was
setting in from California and the South Sea
Islands, and hundreds of American diggers
might be seen walking the streets of Sydney,
working towards the gold regions. The new
settlement of Canterbury was deserted ; Wel-
lington and Auckland were nearly in the same
condition, and at Van Diemen's Land a similar
result was expected. Elour was down to from
£10 to X12 per ton, retail, and several tons from
Chili had been sold by the cargo as low as £1
10s. Meat, tea, sugar, and other articles of do-
mestic consumption were abundant and cheap.
The agricultural interests had not suffered — ■
neither had the pastoral interests, especially in
the Sydney district— but at Port Philip labor
vras getting extremely scai-ce, and it was feared
that shepherds' wages in Port Philip would run
up to an unprecedentedly high rate. In short,
the same eftects are produced as resulted from
the discoveries in California, and by-and-by
Australia will settle down into the same un-
ruffled condition of prosperity that has already
begun to characterize our young State on the
Pacific. But what is to be the ultimate result of
throwing such an immense amount of gold into
circulation is more than the wisest can exactly
foresee.
Vekt singular. — A wild man has been said
to be roaming thi'ough the great Mississippi bot-
tom, in the State of Arkansas. Numerous trav-
ellers and hunters have asserted that they have
seen him, but none have ever been able to get
near enough to give particulars concerning this
strange being. The creatui-e is said unmistak-
ably to be a hiunan being, over seven feet high,
but with all tlie shyness and habits of a wild
animal.
The Platfobm. — Editors are strange peo-
ple, and have sometimes an odd way of ex-
pressing themselves. One says that the Balti-
more platfonns are like feather beds. They are
not fit to stand on, but excellent to Ue upon.
Profitable. — It is said that Mr. J. Heritage,
of Burlington county, N. J., received this year
Sl,000 from an acre and a half of ground plant-
ed with strawberries.
Big Sum. — The income of the city of Edin-
burgh, from its property, is about two and a
half millions of dollars a year.
Fine Arts. — The great Murillo painting of
the Conception, is to be engraved in the highest
stvle of art in France.
BLIND ASYLUM, SOUTH BOSTON.
Our artist has presented for us on page G4, a
perfect delineation of this noble charitable insti-
tution. The building in Pearl Street, Boston,
originally conveyed to the trustees of the institu-
tion by Col. T. H. Perkins, of this city, for the
use of the asjdum, in the year 1833, was after-
wards exchanged for the present building on
Mount Washington, South Boston. The actual
extent of the grounds belonging to the institu-
tion is about one acre.
The pupils in the school are taught reading,
writing, arithmetic, geography, history, natural
jihilosophy, natural history, and physiology.
They are carefully instructed in the theory and
practice of vocal and instrumental music. Be-
sides this they are taught some handicraft work
by which they may earn tlieir livelihood. In
this institution, for the first time in the world's
history, successful attempts were made to break
through the doitble walls in which Blind-Deaf-
Mutes are immured, and to teach thera a sys-
tematic language for communion with their fel-
low-men. Laura Bridgman and Oliver Caswell
are living refutations of the legal and popular
maxim that those who are born both deaf and
blind must be necessarily idiotic. They are pio-
neers in the way out into the light of knowledge,
which may be followed by many others.
In 1844, a supplementary institution grew out
of the parent one, for the employment in handi-
craft work of such blind men and women as
could not readily find employment at home.
This establishment has been highly successful.
A spacious and convenient workshop has been
built at South Boston, to which the workmen
and women repair every day, and ai-e furaished
with work, and paid all they can earn.
The general course and history of the Perkins
Institution has been one of remarkable success.
It has always been under the direction of one
person. It has grown steadily in public fiivor,
and is the means of extended usefulness. In
1832 it was an experiment; it had but six pupils;
it was in debt, and was regarded as a visionaiy
enterprise. In 1833 it was taken under the pa-
tronage of the State ; it was patronized by the
wealthy, and enabled to obtain a permanent local
habitation and a name.
The terms of admission are as follows : the
children of citizens of Massachusetts, not abso-
lutely wealthy, //ee; others, at the rate of S160
a year, which covers all expenses except for
clothing. Applicants must be under 16 years of
age. Adults are not received into the institution
proper, but they can board in the neighborhood,
and be taught trades in the workshop gratuitous-
ly. After six months they are put upon wages.
This department is a self-supporting one, but its
success depends upon the sale of goods, at the
depot. No. 20, Bromfield Street. Here may be
found the work of the blind ; all warranted, and
put at the lowest market prices ; nothing being
asked or expected in the way of charity. The
institution is not rich, except in the confidence of
the public, and the patronage of the legislature.
Preserve tour Numbers. — Let us remind
our subscribers, thus early in the volume, of the
importance of preserving their numbers for bind-
ing. After you have your volume complete, let
it be remembered that we bind it with gilt edge,
gilt back, and illumined sides, in the most
perfect and durable form, for one dollar. By
preserving your numbers, a beautiful and valu-
able volume may be thus secured.
Interesting. — One of the workmen at Low-
ell Island recently found a pine tree shilling, one
of those venerable relics of the early days of
Massachusetts, in the old hulk of a vessel which
lies upon the beach near the steamboat landing.
On one side is the inscription, " New England,
An. Dom. 1652 — xii." On the other is a pine
tree, sm'rounded by the word " Massathvsets."
Good Return. — ^A gardener, near Boston, has
already received fourteen hundred dollars for
strawberries sold this season in Quincy Market.
They were grown on a seven-acre lot, and the
earliest and best netted him four dollars a box.
Good. — Dr. Beman, of Troy, remarked in a
sennon lately, that if Franklin tamed the light-
ning, Professor Morse taught it the English lan-
guage.
Come. — The " seventeen year locusts" have
made their appearance in Connecticut.
New Church. — The Catholics of Ports-
mouth, N. H., are about erecting a church.
In this city by Rev. Mr, Miner, Mr. Joseph Elandren to
Miss Mary F. Emmons.
By Kev. Mr. Fox, Mr. Charles Andrews to Miss Julia
Seavy,
By William Palfrey. Esq., Mr. Andrew J. Locke, of
Portsmouth, N. H , to Miss Caroline A. Haye,'.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. John G. Walton to Miss
Mar>' E. Fos.';.
Bv Bishop Eastbum, Mr. Lonis F, Baker, of New York,
to ISWss Helen E. Wright.
By James C. Merrill, Jr. EKq.,Mr. PaulSchulze to Miss
Mary Augustien.
At Charle.stown, by Rev. Mr. Caldicott, Mr, George
Melcher to Miss Caroline E. Wiley.
At Salem, by Rev. Dr. Emerson, Mr. .Tames G. Blake to
Miss Adehne 0. Gray, both of Boston.
At Lowell, by Rev. 3Ir. Eddy, Mr. John L. Moses to
Miss Mary B. Kidder.
At Dracut, by Rev. Mr. Thompson, Mr. William A.
Web.ster to Miss Electa Foster.
At Andover, by Samuel Johnson, Esq., Mr. Ebenezer
L. Hatch to Miss Roxunna Hunt.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Van Campen, Mr. Benja-
min F. Lewis to Miss Louisa A. Bearse.
At Taunton, by Rev. Mr. Maltby, Mr. James Nield to
Miss Hannah Barton,
At AVest Springlield, Mr, John Avery, of Holyofce, to
Miss Harriet J. Brooks.
At Fairhaven, by Rev. Mr. Houghton, Mr. Nathan
Sherman to Miss CaroUne M, Paine, both of Rochester.
At Wiscas.set, Me., Capt. Albert J, Averell, of San
Francisco, to Miss vVnna B. Foote.
In this citv, Mrs. Betsey Ridgway, 66 ; Mrs. Charlotte
White. 35 ; Mr. John Laggon, 53 ; Mr. Daniel Weld, 79 ;
Mrs. Lucy Ann Allen Phippen, 35.
At South Boston, Mr. James McKenney, 39.
At Chelsea, Mr. Asa Porter, 27.
At Cambridgeport, Frances T.. child of Mr. J. Eaton, 11.
At Cambridge, Mr. Edward WeBington, 22.
At Brighton, Charles H., son of Mr. J. F. White, 11.
At Dorchester, Mrs. Mary E. Hood, 22.
At Newburyport, Miss Mary Nelson, 94.
At Beverly, Mrs. Anna Cressy, 56.
At Worcester, Mrs. Alona D. Mirick, 31.
At Sutton, Mr. John W. Merse, 22.
At New Bedford, Mr. William M. Rickerson, 20.
At OakhJim, Mr. Archibald H. Ware, 46.
At Spencer, Mr. Elias Hall, 73.
At New Boston, N. H., Mrs Alice Daggett, 81.
At lUndge, N. H., Mrs. Sarah Payson Barker, 76.
At Windham, N. H., Miss Emeline A. Simpson, 30.
At Providence, R. I., Mr. Peleg W. Gardner, Jr., 25.
At Foster, R. I.. Mr. Peter Hopkins. 98.
At Portland, 5Ie.. Mrs. Sarah H. Elder, 44.
At Parsonsfield, Me., Mr. John Fenderson, 96.
At Avigusta, Me., Mi-s. Marv F. Day, 28.
At Burlington, Vt.. Mr Rvfield Pierce, 88.
At New York. Mr. D. Temple Knowlton, 28.
At St. Louis, Mrs Ehzabeth Renou, 42.
At New Orleans, Mr. Alvin Wetherby, 48.
At San Francisco, Mr. Warren Kingman, 44,
At Carthage, Texas, Mr. William Eaton, 33.
At St, Helena, Mr. Edward A. H. Dale, of Boston, 22.
AND
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURKAL.
GLEASOVS PICTOEIAL
jDrrtwtitg^Uootit (Jloin^rtittOiT,
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fund of amusement it alTords, and the rich array of origi-
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highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object U to
make the jiapor loved, respected, .ind sought after for its
combined excellencies.
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OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
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[C?^ One copy of the Flag op our Unioiv, and occ copy
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[C7" The Pictorial Drawixg-Room Compaxiox may be
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country, and of nov.-snien, at ltn ccn!s per .single top/
Published ever/ S.\.TL":;aAy. by
F. GLEASON, Eosrox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS,
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. ^V^NCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & CO.. Ill Baltimore St., Ealthnore.
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[Cr= Siibscriptiojis received at either of the above plates
62
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COlNfP ANION.
LWritton for Olonaon's Pictorial.]
CVVRKIE IVEI^.
BY BYDNBV B. OIIOROK.
Memories of pnst iliiyn como oVr mc,
Thoy iiro hiiiI to toll ;
And mcthinks who's now before mo,
■\Vhoiii I lovoil HO well.
Ah, those days ivitli joy wore laden,
Deepest joy to me,
For there wan a little maiden,
Gentle Carrie Ijco.
Ah, she tripped at Bunsot's glowing,
By the river's side,
Loving well to hear the flowing
Of its rushing tide.
Gave sho there one summer oven,
All her love to me ; —
Angel now ; for dwells in heaven
Lovely Carrie Leo.
Suroly her young heart was lighter
Tlian should long he hero ;
Suroly her pure aoul was brighter
Than those to her near.
Ah, the moments pass but slowly,
Sad are they to mc.
For sweet i-oses kiss the lowly
Grave of Carrie Lee.
1 ^■— >
[Written for Gleaaon's Pictorial.]
WORKS OF LOVE.
BY MRS. S. P. DOUGHTY.
" Where is tliat pretty little seamstress, with
whom I was so much pleased tlie last time I vis-
ited you^" inquired Aunt Hannah of her niece,
Maiy Graham, as they seated themselves before
a glowing fire on the morning after the good
lady's arrival for her annual Christmas visit.
"Lucy Somers you mean," replied Mrs. Gra-
ham. " She left me about six months ago. I am
sorry to tell you tliat I heard unfavorable reports
concerning her early life, wliich appeared too
well founded, and I tliought it my duty to dis-
miss her. She was an industrious, modest little
thing, and I pitied her most sincerely ; but on
my children's account, you know, it would never
answer to have kept her. I am told, upon good
authority, that she was ai-rested as a common
thief, and only liberated from motives of com-
passion for her youth and helpless condition.
Shocking, is it not V
" Very sad, certainly," was the reply ; " but
did you carefully inquire into the circumstances,
Maiy ? The facts of the case might have ex-
tenuated her fault."
" Impossible, Aunt Hannah ! Wliat circum-
stances could excuse or palliate such an act of
■wickedness ? I have always regarded theft as
one of the lowest forms of vice."
*' The commandment, ' Thou shalt not steal,*
is a broad one, and involves many meanings,"
returned the elderly lady. " There are few of us
who understand and keep it as it should be kept.
The rich generally obey it in its most external
sense, for they are not tempted to do otherwise.
They know nothing of the bitter cup of poverty
—when the poor starving wretch sees those
around him who are revelling in luxury, and
feels that if he but extends his hand to take the
erust which is denied him, he shall be branded
as a thief. But, in my opinion, he who has abun-
dance and withholds relief from a suffering fel-
low-creature is really as guilt}- of theft, as the
poor man would be, if he took what was thus
withheld. We are but stewards of the property
entrusted to our care, and we are plainly com-
manded to relieve the needy. What right have
we to neglect this command, and minister only
to our own selfish gratification 1"
" There is some truth in what you say. Aunt
Hannah," replied her niece, thoughtfully ; "but
it seems to me that you treat the common form
of theft almost too lightly,"
" Not at all, Mary. I regard it as a deep sin
against the laws of God and man ; but the
wretchedly poor are sometimes placed in circum-
stances when it becomes almost an act of self-
preservation, and I would have their more fortu-
nate brethren pause and consider ere they wholly
condemn them. Do not they, with every want
supplied, sometimes take from others what is
justly their own 'i How little does the rich lady
regard the value of the time of tlie dependent,
whom she keeps in waiting hour after hour for
the most frivolous reasons, Avithout considering
that every moment thus lost, diminishes the little
Btore which is perhaps to support a lielpless fam-
ily. You yourself, Mary, are sometimes thought-
less in this respect. This very morning, when
Sally told you that the woman you had promised
to employ in sewing was below, you replied that
it was not convenient for you to attend to her
then, she could call again to-morrow. Did it
occur to you that this woman liud spent her time
in coming to your house ? — and tliat in this very
time she might have earned a few pennies to
purciiase a loaf of bread to relieve the hunger of
herself or others ''."
*' She might, indeed," said Mrs. Graham. " It
is a long walk from the place where she told mc
she lived, and I have reason to think her in great
need. I am sorry I was so inconsiderate."
"Forgive me, Mary, for pressing the point;
but I am anxious that you should see this matter
in its true light Supposing by this thoughtless
act you deprived the poor woman of the profits
of two or three hours' work, is it not just as
much taking what is not your own, as if you
had taken money from her purse V
"I must allow that it is, Aunt Hannah, and
the lesson shall not be thrown away upon me.
But here come the children, quite wild to em-
brace you. It was so late when you arrived last
evening that I directed the nursery maid to keep
the joyful news a secret until after the little folks
had breakfasted this morning."
As she spoke, four lovely children ran into
the room, and springing upon Aunt Hannah,
nearly devoured her with kisses, to the no small
detriment of her nicely-plaited cap and handkei'-
chief.
"There, darlings, that will do," exclaimed
the old lady at length, after having warmly re-
turned their caresses. " Stand up now, and let
mc see how much you have groAvn since I was
here before. Why, my dear Mary is a large
girl, and my sweet little AYillie is no longer a
baby."
" And Hannah is a large girl, too," exclaimed
her curly headed little namesake. "We are so
glad you have come. Aunt Hannah, and to-mor-
row will be Christmas. What will Santa Claus
bring us "? Dear Lucy used to promise me that
he would bring me a large wax doll, with eyes
to open and shut, this year ; but now she has
gone, perhaps no one will put him in mind."
" And Lucy promised me a new Noah's ark,"
exclaimed Charlie. "Why did she go away,
mother '? and when will you send for her back ?
We all loved her so much, and she always told
us pretty stories when she was sewing."
" Never mind, Charlie," said the mother,
soothingly, "Alice can tell pretty stories."
" But Alice is not half as good as Lucy," re-
plied the child. " Sometimes she is cross, and
says things that are naughty ; but Lucy always
taught us to be good."
Aunt Hannah looked earnestly at her niece,
and her eyes sunk beneath that meaning look,
for she felt that she had too hastily discarded the
helpless girl from her household. Had she
allowed herself to inquire into the particulars of
the story which had been told her, all would
have been well ; her own good judgment and
kind feelings would have prompted a different
course ; but the charge of theft was proved be-
yond a doubt, not only by substantial evidence,
but by the silence and confusion of Lucy when
the cause of her dismissal was stated to her, and
it never occurred to Mrs. Graham that there might
be extenuating circumstances.
How much would her heart have ujahraided
her, could she have witnessed the despair and
anguish of that young girl, who at the very time
when the little ones from whom she had parted
so sorrowfully some months before were recalling
proofs of her kindness, was kneeling in almost
agonizing prayer in one of the most miserable
rooms of a miserable dwelling in an obscure
part of the city. The efforts which she had
made to procure another situation after leaving
Mrs. Graham were rendered vain from her
inability to refer those who wished for her ser-
vices to her last employer ; and quite discour-
aged, she had resolved to take a room and sup-
port herself by taking in sewing of different
kinds. For a while she contrived to earn a bare
subsistence, but as the cold weather came on
her expenses increased, and it became more
difficult to procure work. Naturally timid and
shrinking in her nature, she dreaded to come in
contact with the rude and unfeeling ; and though
willing to work, preferred privation to asking
employment of those who seemed to regard it
as only another form of soliciting charity.
Her physical strength was nearly cxliausted
by anxiety and want of proper nourishment;
her mind was distracted by doubts and tempta-
tions which beset her path ; for alas, the innocent
and friendless maiden is exposed to many and
bitter temptations, and at the time of which wc
arc speaking she liad thrown herself in agony
upon her knees, and in the fervent language of
despair poured out her whole heart to Ilim with-
out wliom not even a sparrow falleth to the
ground.
True prayer is never unanswered, and Lucy
rose from her knees calm and peaceful, while
hope again sprung ujt in her lieart as slie thought
of one resource which had never before occurred
to iier.
" It was the last gift of my dear mother," she
said, as she drew an old fashioned but somewhat
valuable locket from her bosom and gazed long
and sorrowfully upon what she had hitherto re-
gax'ded as a sacred relic. " It is hard to part
with the treasure which I have so long preserved
as a memento of one so dear," she continued,
" but the price of it will furnish food and fuel
until I can finisli the work which I liave en-
gaged to do ;" and feai-ing that her resolution
would fail she Iiastily put on her bonnet and pro-
ceeded to the shop of a jeweller whom slie had
heard Mrs. Graham mention as an honest man.
He readily consented to give her the worth
of the locket, and having received the money she
was about" leaving the shop, when she was
startled by the familiar tones of an old lady who
had entered, and after greeting the polite jew-
eller as an old acquaintance told him that she
had called to purchase some little trinkets as
Christmas gifts for some young friends.
Lucy stole a timid glance toward the speaker
and recognized Aunt Hannah whom she had
seen at Mrs. Graham's the year before. Sho
had dearly loved her then, but now she was only
anxious to escape observation, for she knew that
the kind old lady must have heard of the cause
of her leaving Mrs. Graham, and, no doubt, re-
garded her as unworthy of notice.
But escape was impossible. The recognition
had been mutual, and with extended hand Aunt
Hannah came forward to meet her.
" My dear child," she exclaimed, " I am ti'uly
glad to find you. I have thought of you day
and niglit since I heard you had left Mrs. Gra-
ham. Tell me how you are getting along. You
look very pale and thin."
Lucy was so overpowered by the unexpected
kindness of this address that she could not re-
strain her tears, and other customers entering,
Aunt Hannah drew her to a distant part of the
shop and soon heard enough of her little story
to convince her that she was really in want.
" Well, dear," she said at length, as she
kindly pressed the hand she still held, " this is
no place for a long talk, but give me directions
to your present home and I will see you to-mor-
row and hear all your troubles. In the mean
time take this to help you along," and she
slipped a small purse into Lucy's pocket.
" You are very, very kind," replied the poor
girl, almost sobbing lier thanks ; " but you will
find my home a poor i^lacc for a lady to come
to, and to-morrow is Christmas day, when all
will be so gay and pleasant at Mrs. Graham's."
" Never mind that," replied her friend.
" Christmas day is the very time for works of
love, and I think it will be one to visit you,
Lucy."
"It will, indeed," was the earnest answer;
and the agitated girl gladly sought her own
room that she might give vent to the thankful-
ness with which her heart was filled. Her
Heavenly Father had indeed watched over her
and raised up a friend in the hour of need.
Christmas morning arrived, the joyous greet-
ings had been exchanged, and the stockings of
the young folks unpacked with many an excla-
mation of delight.
" Christmas is indeed a joyful day," remarked
Mrs. Graham to Aunt Hannah, as the latter
entered the apartment where the children were
assembled with their new treasures,
"It is indeed delightful," was the reply. "I
have often thought, dear Mary, that Christmas
should be strictly devoted to works of love — to
seeking out and succoring those who arc in dis-
tress. Surely the anniversary of the day when
the Saviour of mankind was born into the world
to lay down his life for sinners could not be bet-
ter commemorated."
" There is much truth in wliat you say," re-
plied Mrs. Graham, thoughtfully ; "but where
have you been so early, Aunt Hannah ?" she
added, as she for the first time observed that the
old lady had on her cloak and bonnet.
" To sec an old friend of yours, Mary, Lucy
Somers ; and now if you are at leisure I will re-
late the touching tale to which I have just lis-
tened.
" Several years ago, ere Lucy had attained
her thirteenth year, her parents who had met
with many misfortunes and were reduced from
comparative afllucncc to poverty, removed from
a distant part of the country to this city, in the
hope that Mr. Somers would here ohtuiu more
profitable employment. Shortly after their ar-
rival he was suddenly removed to the other
world, leaving Ids wife and child friendless aiul
alone in a land of strangers. The mother's
health was exceedingly feeble, and tliough for
the sake of her orphan girl she endeavored to
bear up under her aillictions, it was soon evi-
dent that she must shortly follow her husband to
the grave. As she became more and more un-
able to do anything for their sujjport, their wants
became more pressing, and although Lucy made
almost superhuman exertions, her feeble sti'cngth
was insufficient to the task. All that she could
earn would hardly furnish them witli a shelter,
and they often suffered severely for food.
" One cold winter's night Mi'S. Somers seemed
even more feeble than usual, and Lucy gazed
upon her until it seemed as if her heart would
break, for she knew that it was many hours
since her beloved mother liad tasted food, and
that they had no means of procuring any. Un-
able to bear it longer, she stole away from the
side of the invalid, who had sunk into an uneasy
slumber, and with a desperate resolution to pro-
cure food in some way, she rushed into the
street. The wind was bleak and cold, and the
poor child was but scantily protected from the
rude blast. Weeping and shivering she at
length ventured to pull the bell of a large
house near which she found herself. Her sum-
mons was answered by a servant, who left her
standing in the hall while he went to his mistress
to ask for relief. AVhile he was absent her at-
tention was attracted by something bright and
shining near where she stood. She stooped to
pick it up and found it to be a valuable ring.
The first thought was to return it at once ; but
when the man returned with a harsh refusal to
her prayer for help, and irritated by the reproof
of his mistress for having disturbed her, rudely
pushed the child from the door, the idea of sell-
ing the ring and thus relieving their distress
flashed upon her mind, and hardly conscious
whether she was acting right or ^vl-ong, she
hastily proceeded to the nearest jeweller and
offered her treasure for Iiis inspection. The man
instantly recognized the ring, for he had been
employed to repair it only a few days previous ,
and suspecting that all -was not right, he de-
tained Lucy until he could inquire into the cir-
cumstances. The result was her an-est as a
thief, but on the following day the touching sim-
plicity of her manner as she told her little stoiy,
and her deep grief at the thought of what lier
mother had suffei-ed during her absence, induced
some compassionate persons to obtain her re-
lease. She flew to the miserable dwelling which
she had left the preceding evening. Meeting a
poor woman who lived in another room of the
same tenement she inquired for her mother but
could gain no information. Her absence had
not been known by those in the honse. Trem-
blingly she opened their ovm door. To her sur-
prise the sufferer lay in the same position in
which she had left her, apparently still sleeping.
The weeping child threw herself upon her bosom
to pour out her griefs, but all was cold and life-
less. The spirit had departed calmly, peacefully,
unconscious of the last drop in the already over-
flowing cup of misery.
" I need not dwell on the agony of the solitaiy
orphan, nor need I relate the details of her
futui'C life. Providence watched over her, friends,
poor but kind, were raised up who provided for
her wants, until at length she was led to your
happy home. You know the result. Your
harshness, Mary, came near driving her to de-
struction ; but, thank God, she was withheld.
"And now," continued Aunt Hannah, " shall
you be surprised to hear that I have offered her
a home with me for the present t I need some
one to wait upon me and nurse me a little in my
old age, and, if I am not mistaken, Lucy will be
all that I desire. If you could have seen her
gratitude when I made the proposal, you would
have felt sure as I do, that though once misled,
it was but for a moment ; her heart inclines to
virtue, and she only needs encouragement, to
walk in the right path."
Mrs. Graham was silent. She could not really
rejoice in the determination of her aunt, but her
heart was melted by the recital of Lucy's suffer-
ings, and she felt that to provide a home where
a poor, friendless child could find rest, was in-
deecv a work of love.
GLEASON'S PICTOPdAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
63
THE BLUD, WOLF AND DEER.
A Wisconsin paper tells a story of a Wiscon-
sin hei-oine : A young lady of ftftecn, living at
Kawlcy's Bay, while walking with anotlicr yonng
lady, saw a wolf a short distance off, watching
a deer that he had driven into the lake. With a
courage rarely equalled, she drove the wolf
away, and wading into the lake, brouglit the
deer on shore by the ear ; but after petting him
a short time, the ungallant fellow made several
attempts to get away, and finally carried matters
so far as to knock her down and tear her dress,
when, becoming justly incensed by such beha-
viour, she took a stone and dashed out his
brains, the wolf all the time standing a sliort
distance off a silent spectator of the fight, in
which he took no fuither part than by showing
a formidable row of teeth occasionally, to show
his disapprobation of her interference. The edi-
tor adds, in the genuine Hoosier style : It is
safe enough to predict that if tliis girl lives a
few years longer she will be able to ivhip her
weigM in wild cats, out-scrcam the catamount,
give the young " badger " the heart-ache, and,
what is better, preside with grace and dignity
over some "wild, Wisconsin home."
THE NUNKERIES AGAUV.
These tombs for the living are on the increase
in Great Britain. Lough Castle, in Galway, has
recently been piuxhased by Mi*s. Ball, the
Abbess of the Loretto Convent, near Dublin,
and ten of the sisterhood have taken possession.
Lough Castle was formerly the seat of Viscount
Grort, and was built at an expense of four hun-
dred thousand dollars. It has exactly as many
windows as there ax-e days in the year. Its situ-
ation upon the banks of Lake Cootre is said to
be beautiful in the extreme. Castle Hyde, also,
in the county of Cork, has lately been purchased
for a similar purpose ; and it was reported tliat
Cai'dinal Wiseman had bought the Queen's
Hotel at Cheltenlmm, and designed to convert it
into a convent.
THE TURIVER MANIA.
Since tlie death of Turner, the landscape
painter, the pictures from his band have greatly
risen in price, and a large number of " spurious
Turners " have been manufactured. To such a
height has the mania risen, that at a recent sale
of pictui-es iu London, a harbor scene by Tur-
ner brought more tlian three thousand dollars,
while better pictures were sold for a few hun-
dreds. At the same sale, a water drawing of
Edinburgh, by the same artist, witliout glass or
frame, sold for a thousand dollars. " To what-
ever height," says a correspondent, " the Turner
mania may reach, the public may rest assured
the supply will be equal to the demand."
BUTTER,
The aggregate value of butter produced in the
United States, is larger than that of wheat. The
price of good butter has very much increased, in
the last few yeai-s, and at particular seasons, has
been exorbitant. Some of the agricultural so-
cieties iu this State, are recommending that
greater attention be paid to putting up firkin
butter, which, as made in the State of New York,
for the navy, has kept sweetfor two years. Libe-
ral premiums for the best firkin butter would
probably produce a better article than is usually
offered under this name.
Testimony or akt Atheist refused. — In
the U. S. Circuit Couxt, AVednesday, Judge
Sprague refused to allow Walter Hunt, of New
York, to testify in the Sewing Machine Patent
case, on the ground that he was an Atheist.
Howard Athenaeum. — Mr. Henry AVillard,
of New York, has taken the Howard Athenieum
for five years, and will open it on the 6th of
September. Mr. C. R. Thornc is to be stage
manager.
Personal. — Hon. William Rufus King, the
present democratic candidate for the vice presi-
dency, was a member of Congress from North
Carolina (of which State he is a native) as far
back as ISU, some forty-one years ago.
Remember. — If you can live free from want,
and have wherewithal to do good, care for no
more — the rest is but vanitv.
Mining. — The Lake Superior mines are said
to be doing an excellent business, and now give
employment to three thousand persons.
« — Oi^ fc
Ga3.— Newbur^-port is to be liglited with gas.
Ulaiisilre ©atljcrings.
Bloomers are plenty in Michigan.
The New Hampsliire State debt is S60,000.
Mahomet died on the 7th of June, 632.
Wliatever has been, is — says Carlyle.
The British Sovereign cannot increase the
army without the consent of Parliament.
The Phcenix House, Savannah, Ga., was de-
stroyed by fire on the 1st inst.
The office of City Marshal is abolished, and
that of Chief of Police substituted.
The proclamation against Popish processions
had created much excitement in Ii'eland.
Feargus O'Connor had been taken into custo-
dy, to be placed in an asylum.
They say that President Arista, of Mexico, is
going to make a coup d' etat in the style of Louis
Napoleon.
Tlie Connecticut Legislature is engaged in
making a law which will permit theatrical per-
formances in that State.
Cholera has been imported into Highland,
111., by emigrants. Several old and prominent
citizens have fallen victims.
A young man in Maryland took poison and
died, in consequence of having got the mitten.
Verdict, heart disease.
On Tuesday, the lightning sti'uck, set fire to,
and destroyed Shirley bridge, over Shirley liver,
on the Fitchburg raUVoad.
The celebrated cathedral of Noti'e Dame was
founded and mainly built by the immense for-
tune of Thibaut, a villanous old miser.
Winter wheat looks remarkably well in Som-
erset county, Me., notwithstanding the season
has been veiy unfavorable.
Boys in Baltimore cany concealed deadly
weapons, and use them, too, upon the slightest
provocation, oftentimes without provocation.
The Hon. Mary and Emily Hughes, sisters of
Lord Dinorben, himself of unsound mind, have
recently been declared imbeciles.
The supposed designs of Louis 'Napoleon upon
Belgium were attracting considerable attention
iu the diplomatic circles of Europe.
Gen. 0. Hinton, the famous Ohio mail robber,
has made his escape from California, as the ofli-
cers from Ohio were in pm'suit of him.
The number of military land wan-ants issued
is stated to be 1 1 1 ,000 ; of which 17,000 were
for 160 acres, 37,000 for 80 acres, and 57,000 for
40 acres.
The river Shannon, at luUaloe, recently ebbed
in so extraordinaiy a manner that salmon,
eels, etc., were taken iu its bare bed, even by
children.
Harriet Beecher Stowe cautions the public
against a colored impostor who is raising money
ostensibly to redeem certain slaves. Uncle
Toms must work cautiously.
Madame Alboni's last concert in Prance was at
Versailles, for the benefit of the poor. The re-
ceipts were 12,000 francs, of which 500 francs
were from the President alone.
Peter Paneuil, who built the celebrated hall
in this city, that bears liis name, was a Ei-ench
Huguenot, who was banished from Prance by
an edict against civil and religious liberty.
Mr. Wm. Sydney Smith, of the British Con-
sulate at Havana, who has received many de-
served Iionors for his kindness to the Ameri-
can prisoners, is now on a visit to the Atlantic
cities.
A mechanic in Maysville, Ky., has invented a
smoothing iron that is heated by a few coals in
the interior, having a damper to regulate the
lieat from that of boiling water to a red hot
glow.
A street pedler in Cincinnati sold a lady a
nice silk dress which he had stolen a few hours
before at her husband's store. The mex'chant
valued it at thirty-five dollars, and the lady pm*-
chased it for fourteen.
A law-suit is now in course at Chateau
Thierry, France, between rival claimants for the
chapeau worn by Napoleon in the Russian cam-
paign, and which hatl fallen into the possession
of his valet de chamber, M. Eiu-ard.
St. George Beck was shot and killed on the
llth ult., at the residence of Col. Van CorE-
landt, near Croton, by the accidental discbarge
of an old pistol, a family relic, which had been
upon the lilirary shelf for at least ten years.
In the English merchant service, a sailor is
kept constantly at work on week days, and is
fined for either washing or wearing foul linen on
Sunday. He is compelled, however, to "holy
stone " the decks half the day every Sabbath !
By a fire that occurred in Clough's great
printing establisliment, in London, the entire
edition of the Illustrated Catalogue of the great
Exhibition, together with Knight's illustrated
edition of Shakspeare, were destroyed. The
loss is estimated at £50,000.
The French papers report the deatli of the
most eminent of the modern sculptors of France
— M. Pradier, aged fifty years. His end was
sudden and affecting, while wandering witli his
young daughter and a party of friends on a day's
excursion amid the beauties of Bougival.
At Portland, John H. Bond was cut in two
by a circular saw ; and at the Maine wharf
ferry, James S. Gould, Custom House bo.atman,
was severely hurt by the fall of a derrick, and
several Custom House officers came near leav-
ing vacant places.
JTorciqn Ulisrcllann.
Another revolt has broken out in Algeria.
The desert railroad progresses favorably.
Mr. Leslie has resigned the professorship of
painting at the Royal Academy.
There are nine hundred children in a single
work-liousc in Limerick.
Great inundations have happened iu the south
of France.
The tobacco monopoly is continued for eleven
years longer.
Gen. Lamoriciere was summarily expelled by
the police from Aix la Chapelle, whither he had
gone for the benefit of his health.
Rogers, the banker-poet, has a Bank of Eng-
land note, for one million pounds, framed and
glazed, hanging upon the wall of his drawing-
room.
A proclamation has been issued by the queen,
prohibiting the public exercise of Roman Ca-
tholic ceremonies elsewhere than in places of
worship.
Mr. Archer, an American, is the inventor of
an improved process of manufactui-ing postage
stamps, which, after a long delay, has just been
adopted by the English government.
We find tliat there are at present one thousand
booksellers of all classes in London, and two
thousand six hmidred and fifty-one iu all Ger-
many.
U. S. frigate Susquehannah and sloop Sarato-
ga were at Hong Kong. The foimer is waiting
for the new commodore. When he arrives, it is
expected she will proceed to Manilla.
At the Pnissian Industrial Exhibition, Count
Renard, a large proprietor of iron works, exhibits
sheet iron of such a degi'ce of tenuity that the
leaves can be used for paper.
The Earl of Malmesbuiy announced in the
House of Lords, recently, that the government
had determined to suspend for the present the
bill for the extradition of French criminals.
During the church holidays it is quite usual
for the Londoners to visit the British Museum.
On Whit-Monday there had been 35,000 visitors ;
but on one occasion there were 60,000 in a single
day !
The greater part of Bosnia Scrvia, the capital
of Bosnia, was dcsti-oj'ed by fire on the 23d of
May. During the conflagration, the troops com-
mitted the most abominable acts of rapine and
pillage.
From Lisbon accounts are to tlic llth. The
American ship"Cohamy" was receiving her
cargo ot salt at St. Ubes, the military having
suppressed all resistance on the part of the
monopolists.
0anii0 of ©olir.
.... A principle of unity, without a subject of
unity, cannot exist.
Little minds rejoice over the enors of
men of genius, as the owl rejoices at an eclipse.
.... Tlie true end of freedom is to develop
manhood and and womanhood, not to make an-
thors, mechanics or statesmen.
.... The man has no more excuse who lays
violent hands upon the life of a tree, than he who
strikes a woman. — Herald.
Whatever situation in life you ever wish
or propose for yourself, acquire a clear and lucid
idea of the inconveniences attending it.
.... It is better to be bom with a disposition
to sec things on the favorable side, than to an
estate of ten tliousand a year.
.... Reserve is no more essentially connected
with understanding, than a church organ with
devotion, or wine with good nature.
.... Wise men are instructed by reason ; men
of less understanding by experience ; the most
ignorant by necessity ; and brutes by nature.
.... Of all the impostors and calumniators in
the world, Ave most despise those who entrench
themselves behind church pews, and the sanctity
of religion.
.... You may depend upon it that he is a
good man whose intimate friends are all good,
and whose enemies are all of a character decid-
edly bad.
.... Pride is never more offensive than when
it condescends to be civil ; whereas, vanity,
whenever it forgets itself, naturally assumes good
humor.
.... Fine sensibilities are like woodbines, de-
liglitful luxuries of beauty to twine round a solid,
upright stem of understanding, but very poor
things, if, unsustained by strength, they are left
to creep along the ground.
.... The greatest pleasure connected with
wealth consists in acquiring it. Two months
after a man comes into a fortune, he feels just as
prosy and fretful as he did when he worked for
six shillings a day.
.... Wealth is the smallest of the gifts of
God. What is it to be compared with his Word,
or corporeal gifts — such as beauty, health and
activity? What is it to the gifts of the mind —
such as intellect, science and taste ?
.... Wlien hearts are filled with holy affec-
tions, and home is happy, tlicn do the young
dwell in a charmed circle, which only the natui-
ally depraved would seek to quit, and across
which boundary temptations to error shhie out
but feebly.
3oktx3 JJttttget.
Wliat officer displays the most military tac-
tics 1 Marsltal Array (martial array.)
Why is a four quart jug like a lady's side-sad-
dle ! Because it holds a gall-on.
AYho was the first post-boy ? Cadmus ; ho
carried letters from Phcenicia to Greece.
AVliy is a woman living up two pair of stairs
like a goddess ? Because she is a second Flora.
Why is the hour between ten and twelve at
long odds ■? Because it is ten to one.
Why is a trick of legerdemain like declining
an offer of marriage ? Because it is a sldght-of
hand.
Dickens, in speaking of pawnbrokers' dupli-
cates, says they are the turnpike tickets on the
road to poverty.
Soup for the poor. — Three parings of potatoes
to a hogshead of dish-water. If too rich, add a
pump-handle while boiling.
To support shirt collars during the present ran
of hot weather, a genius down East has invented
a set of puUies which pass over the ears.
A Western editor speaks of the circumstance
of a bird building its nest upon a ledge over the
door of a doctor's of&ce, as an attempt to rear its
young in the very jaws of death.
Mike yesterday said he was going to move
from the house he then occupied. Scaley asked
him '* What for?" Mike's answer was: "I
don't like the viciinti/." Tucker then ejaculated :
" Don't like the vice in it eh ?" Mike thought
Tucker personal.
The editor of the Boston Post says, that a
newly-invented dozen bladed knife has been
made by a Yankee cutler, which has, in addition
to its blades, a cork-screw, a bodkin, a hair bnish,
and a boot-jack, besides, a season ticket to the
theatre.
At a court martial lately held at Norfolk, the
following dialogue is said to have taken place
between one of the witnesses and the court :
" Are you a Catholic ?" " No, sir." " Are you
a Protestant?" "No, sir." *'What are you,
then ?" " Captain of the foretop."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
"We have volumes 1st and 2A of the Pictorial Drawinq
Room Companion elegjintly bound in cloth, with gilt edgea
and back, and illnmined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Htmdred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Event-s all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at homt and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUJnNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Kecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
iUustrations-
For 6a!e at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Tliree Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOlf ,
AN ELEGANT, MOEAL AND EEFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, ^ratten exp ssly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, nd on
all sectarian fjuestions, it is strictly neutral. Notuing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOR THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It ia generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading^ tveekly paper in the United Stales^ and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
BO condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelhgence. No advertisementa are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STTBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year 5f2 00
3 subscribers, '' 5 00
4 « '' 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " '^ 20 00
One copy of the Flag of OOH Unhon, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawing-Roost Compakion, one year, for S500.
£^7" Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
O" All orders should be addressed, post PAID, to the
POBLISUER. of the FlAG OF OCIl UNION.
*^* The Flag can be obtained at any of the neiospapc
depots ill the United States, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUE CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
Publisbee and Peoprietor, Boston, Mabs.
04
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM fiOMPANION.
[Coniiintedfrom Isfpar/e.]
Mr. Clay continued
in llic olVu:c of sccrctiiry
of stiitc until 1829. Two
yciirs later, in Deccnnl)er,
1831, he was again
clcctofl to the Senate of
the United States, and
continued a member of
that body until March
.31, 1842, when he re-
signed. Mr. Clay lived
in elegant retirement at
Ashland, until lie was
again (1849) elected to
the Senate. And here,
after a brilliant parlia-
mentary career, he clos-
ed his fife, as his friend
John Quiney Adams did,
with Ills harness on —
still serving tlie country
for whose welfare his
heart so fervently beat.
For tiie excellent like-
ness given on our lirst
page, we are indebted
to a daguerreotype by
Meade Brothers, New
York. Wc also pre-
sent on this page a fac-
simile of the medal giv-
en by the citizens of New
York to Mr. Clay, in
respect for his charact<^.r
as a statesman and a
citizen. It is an expen-
sive and beautiful tri-
bute. The cost of cut-
ting the die was $1600,
the gold for the medal
cost $400, the silver cas-
ing $75, the design and
incidental expenses cost
$400 more. The dies
were cut by C. C.
"Wright, and are taken
from Pi*udens' bust of
Henry Clay in his 73d
year. We present both
sides of the medal.
CLAY MEDAL — OB\Ti;RSE SIDE.
CLAY MEDAL BEVEllSE SIDE.
VIEW OF THE BLIND ASYLUM INSTITUTION, SOUTH BOSTON.
[Sw p. Cl for ileRcription.]
CORNER BROifFIELD
. IxiiJiAOUiN, i iND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATUEDAY, JULY 31, 1852
¥2 PER TOLmiE.
10 Cts. single.
Vol. m. No. 5.— Whole No. 57.
THE BOSTON FARSI SCHOOL.
Last week we gave a very fine picture of the
Blind Asylum, at South Boston Point, just on
the edge of our harbor ; below we give a scene
not far removed from the former, being an origi-
nal and accurate view of the Farm School. This
institution is on Tiiompson's Island, about four
miles from the city, and about a mile from Dor-
chester. By its insular position and salubrious
air, it affords peculiar advantages for accom-
plishing the purposes of the institution. It con-
tains one hundred and forty acres of land, about
seventy-two of which are under cultivation ; the
remainder being devoted to pasturage and the
accommodation of the pupils. The soil consists
of a rich loam, with a light sub-soil, and is well
adapted to the raising of all the grains and vege-
tables usually cultivated in New England. The
establishment is situated on the highest part of
the island, and command? an extensive view of
the city, its harbor and surrounding country. It
is a substantial brick edifice, with a projecting
centre and two wings. The first floor contains
a wash-room, kitchens, dining-hall and office ;
the second, a very spacious school-room, and
several apartments for the superintendent, fami-
ly and teachers. The boys' sleeping-room is in
the tiiird story, and is fitted up with beds in such
a manner as to separate each boy from his neigh-
bor, and permit the teacher, who sleeps with
them, to overlook their conduct. Tlie establish-
ment at the island is under the immediate direc-
tion of a superintendent, a matron, and an in-
structor. A school is kept, both morning and
afternoon, for about six hours daily, in which are
taught the elements of useful knowledge; read-
ing, writing, arithmetic, geography and grammar.
During the evening, especially in the winter
months, instruction is also given in the first prin-
ciples of agriculture, horticulture, botany, etc.
The moral and religious culture of the pupils is
an object of pre-eminent importance in an insti-
tution like this ; and, of course, it is the aim of
the managers, as far as practicable, to make tlie
whole discipline and instruction of the pupil,
whilst upon the island, bear upon his moral and
religious nature. There is a good collection of
juvenile books, selected with due regard to the
character and capacities of the pupils, to which
the boys have access. That the pupils may be
trained to habits of order and industry, and en-
abled, when tliey leave the institution, to pursue
some occupation by which they may gain a live-
lihood, they are required to perform as much of
the manual lalior done on the farm, and in the
house, as their various ages and capacities will
permit. During the season of farming opera-
tions, all the boys in the institution, of sufficient
age and strength, are regularly employed in la-
bor on the farm, under the care of the superm-
tendent, who is a practical farmer. The object
is to make them skilful, practical farmers. At
the age of twenty-one, each boy is entitled to a
suit of clothes ; and, if apprenticed to a farmer,
to one hundred dollars in money in addition.
The present number of hoys in the institution is
ninety-four ; and there are accommodations for
one hundred.
THE BOSTON FABM SCHOOL, AT THOMPSON S ISLAND, BOSTON HARBOR.
GO
CxLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entci-ca accoi-dinir to Act of Con{;ress, in the ycnr 18r,2, l)y ¥. Gleason, in tlio Clevk'b Office of tho
District Court of Mussaclmsotta.
[WBITTEN EXPHESSLY FOE GLEASON'B PICTOnlAL.]
THE
l^iPi
pnp^ ®
OR,
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
:A Stovg of UxH mh (fjc Cow Ui\Uk$,
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
CHAPTEK VIII.— [COKTINDED.]
"I wonder," said he to himself, somewhat
enviously, " why Kuez does not come to-diiy 1 it
is his honi- — ay, must ho even past the time, and
tlic hoy loves me too well to neglect me now,
when I am so near my end. Hark ! is that his
step 1 No ; and yet it must he ; it is too light
for tho guard or turnkey. 0 yes, that is my
door, certainly, and here he is, sure enough. I
knew he would come."
As the prisoner said this, tho door slowly
opened on its rusty and creaking hinges, .and the
turnkey immediately closed it after the new
comer, who wits somewhat closely wrapped in
the profuse folds of a long Sp.anish cloak.
" Well, Euez," said Captain Bez.an, quite leis-
urely, and without turning his head towards the
door, " I had begun to feiir that yon would not
come to day. You know you are the only being
I see, except the turnkey, and I'm quite sensitive
about your visits, my dear hoy. However, you
are here, at last; sit down."
" Captain Bezan, it appears to me that you do
not welcome me very cordially," said Isabella
Gonzales, in reply, and a little archly.
" Lady !" said the prisoner-, springing to his
feet .as though ho had been strack by an electric
shock, " Senorita Isabella Gonzales, is it possible
that you have remembered me at such a time —
me, wlio am so soon to die V
Isabella Gonz.iles had now thrown back the
ample folds of the cloak she wore, and lifting her
brother's cap from her head, her beautiful hair
fell into its accustomed place, and with a slight
blush tinging either cheek, she stood before the
young soldier in his cell, an object of ineffable
interest and beauty.
" Heaven bless you, lady," said tho prisoner,
kneeling at her feet.
" Nay. I pray you, sir, Captain Bezan, do
not kneel at such a time."
" All ! lady, how can I thank you in feeble
words for this sweet ray of sunshine that you
have cast athwart my dark and dreary path 1 I
no longer remember that I am to die — that my
former comrades are to pierce my heart with
bullets. I cannot remember my fate, lady, since
you have rendered me so happy. You have
shown me that I did not mistake the throne at
which I have sooretly worshipped — that, all good
and pure as you are, you would not forget Lo-
renzo Bezan, the poor, the lonely soldier who liad
dared to tell you how dearly he loved yon."
As he spoke, Isabella Gonzales seemed for one
moment to forget herself in the realizations of
the scene. Slie listened to his thrice eloquent
words with eyes bent upon tho ground at first,
and then gazing tenderly upon liim, and now
that he had ceased to speak, they sought once
more the floor of the room in silence. He could
not hut constme these delicate demonstrations
in his favor, and drawing close to her side, he
pressed her hand tenderly to his lips. The touch
seemed to act hke magic, and aroused her to
jiresent consciousness, while she started as if in
amazement. All the pride of her disposition
was instantly aroused ; she felt that for a single
moment she had forgotten herself, and to retrieve
the apparent acquiescence that she had seemed to
show to the condemned soldier's words and tale
of love, she now appeared to think that she must
as.sume all the hauteur of character that usually
governed her in her intercourse with his sex
and the world generally. It was but a simple
[continued.]
struggle, and all her self possession was r.allied
again to her service and absolute control.
" Captain Bezan," slie said, with assumed dig-
nity, and drawing herself up in all her beauty of
person to its full height, " I came not hither to
hear such t.alk as this from you, nor to submit to
such familiarity, and I trust, sir, that you will
henceforth remember your station, and respect
mine."
The breast of the prisoner heaved with inward
emotion, in the struggle to suppress its outward
show, and he hit his lips until tho blood nearly
flowed. His face instantly became the picture
of despair ; for her words liad planted that grief
and sorrow in his heart which the fear of death
could not arouse tlicrc. Even Isabella Gonzales
seemed for a moment struck with the effect of
her repulse ; but her o'wn proud heart would not
pei-mit her to recall one word she had uttered.
" I Avould not leave you, Captain Bezan," said
she, at length, as she gathered the ample folds of
the cloak abouther, " without once more tendering
to you my most earnest thanks for your great
services to our family. You know to what I
refer. " I need not tell you," she continued,
with a quivering lip, "that my father has done
all in his power to hsive your sentence remitted,
but, alas ! to no effect. Tacon seems to be re-
solved, and unchangeable."
As she spoke thus, spite of all her assumed
pride and self-control, a tear trembled in her
eye, and her respiration came quickly — almost
in sobs !
The young soldier looked at her silently for a
moment; at flrst he seemed puzzled; he was
weighing in his own mind the meaning of all
this as contrasted with the repulse he had just
received, and with the estimate he had before
formed of her ; at last, seeming to read the spirit
that had possessed her, he said :
" All, lady, I bless you a thousand times for
that tear !"
" Nay, sir, I do not understand you," she said,
quickly.
" Nor your own heart either, lady, else you
disguise its truth. Ah ! why should all this be
so ? why should hearts he thus masked V
" Sir, this is positive impertinence," said Isa-
bella Gonzales, struggling once more to sum-
mon her pride to sustain her.
"Impertinence, lady?" repeated the prisoner,
sadly.
" That was my word, sir," answered the proud
girl, with assumed harshness.
" No, it would be impossible for me, on the
very brink of the grave, to say aught but the
truth ; and I love you too deeply, too fervently,
to be impertinent. You do not know me, lady.
In my heart I have reared an altar to worship
at, and that shrine for three years has been thy
dearly loved form. How dearly and passionately
I have loved — what a chastening influence it has
produced upon my life, my comrades, who know
not yet the cause, could tell you. To-morrow I
must die. AVhilo I hoped one day to win your
love, life was most dear to me, and I was happy.
I could then have clung to life with as much te-
nacity as any one. But, lady, I find that I have
been mistaken ; my whole dream of fancy, of
love, is gone, and life is no better to me than a
burden. I speak not in haste, nor in passion.
You must hear me witness that I am calm and
collected ; and I assure you that the bullets
which end my existence will be but swift-winged
messengers of peace to my already broken
heart I"
" C;iptaiu Bezan," said Isabella, licsitating,
and liardly speaking distinctly.
"Well, lady'!"
" How could you have so deceived yourself 1
How could you possibly suppose that one in your
sphere of life could hope to be united to one in
mine?" asked Isaliclla Gonzales, with a half
averted face and a trembling voice, as she spoke.
" It was foolhardy, sir ; it was more than that ;
it was preposterous !"
" Lady, you arc severe."
" I speak but truth. Captain Bezan, and your
own good sense will sustain it."
" 1 forgot your birtli and rank, your wealth —
everything. I acknowledge this, in the love I
bore you; and, lady, I still feel, thatliad not my
career been thus summarily checked, I might yet
have won your love. Nay, lady, do not frown ;
true love never despairs — never is disheartened —
never relinquishes the object that it loves, wliilo
there is one ray of light yet left to guide it on.
It did seem to me now, when we are parting so
surely /oreper, that it might have boon, on your
part, more kindly, and that you would, by a smile,
or even 'a tear-drop, for my sake, have thus
blessed mo, and lightened my hea\'y steps to the
field of execution and of trial.
Isabella Gonzales, as she listened to his words,
could no longer suppress her feelings, but cover-
ing her face with her hands, she wept for a mo-
ment like a child. Pride was of no avail ; the
heart had asserted its supremacy, and would not
be controlled.
" Y'ou take advantage of my woman's heart,
sir," she said, at last. " I cannot boar the idea
that any one should suff'er, and more particularly
one who has endeared himself to mo and mine
by such important service as you have done.
Do not think that tears argue aught for tho wild
t.ale you have uttered, sir. I would not have
you deceive yourself so much ; but I am a wo-
man, and cannot view violence or grief un-
moved !"
" Say, rather, lady," added the soldier, most
earnestly, " that you are pure, beautiful, and good
at heart, hut that pride, that only alloy of thy
most lovely character, chokes its growth in your
bosom."
" Sir I"
" Well, Senorita Isabella."
"Enough of this," she said, hastily and much
excited. " I must leave you now, captain. It
is neither fitting that I should hear, nor that you
should utter such words as these to Isabella
Gonzales. Farewell !"
" Lady, farewell," replied tho prisoner, more
by instinct thiin by any comprehension that she
w.as actually about to leave him.
" I pray you. Captain Bezan, do not think
th.at I cherish any unkind thoughts towards you,"
she said, turning when at the door; " on tho
contrary, I am by no moans unmindful of my
indebtedness to you ; but far be it from me to
sanction a construction of my feelings or actions
which my heart will not second."
" Lady, your word is law to me," replied the
submissive prisoner.
When she had gone, and tho rough grating of
the turnkey's instruments had done sounding in
his ear, Captain Bezan remained a moment look-
ing upon the spot where she had stood, with ap-
parent amazement. Ho could not realize that
she had been there at all ; and hardest of all, that
she had kftliim so abruptly. Buthor "farewell"
still rang in his ears, and throwing himself upon
his rude seat, with his face buried in his hands,
ho exclaimed :
" Welcome, welcome death ! I would that
thou wort here already !"
bright and beautiful tropical moniing might be
supposed to induce. Tiiey knew only too well
of tlic tragedy that was that day to be enacted ;
such occasions — the spilling of the tide of life, in
colli blood — suited not tlieir chivalrous notions
at any time, much less so now, for they loved
the officer who was to lose his life — a victim to
Harcro — whom, again, few men respected, cithei*
as a soldier or a man — his character was repulsive
to nearly all.
" So the captain is to he shot to-day," remarked
one of Captain Bczan's own company, to a com-
rade whom he had just met in the Plaza.
" Yes, I had ratlier it had been — "
" Hush, Alonzo," said his companion, observ-
ing General Harero walking across the street.
" That is he, and he is the only man I ever
saw," continued the other, " that I would like to
see shot in cold blood. Poor Bezan, lie's sacri-
ficed to the general !"
" I wonder wliat gave the trouble between
them."
"Don't know; some say there's a lady in the
case."
" I hadn't heard of that."
" Yes, you know he challenged the general V
" Yes."
" Well, that was about a lady, in some way ;
I heard one of the officers say so."
" The first file do tho business."
" Yes, and thankful am I, Alonzo, that you
and I are in the fourth section."
The hour appointed for the execution of the
sentence had nearly arrived, and the steady roll
of the drum beat the regiment to which Captain
Bczan's company belonged, to the line. His
own immediate company was formed on the side
of the Plaza at right angles with the rest of the
lino, in all some thousand rank and file. This
company " stood at ease," and the men hung
then heads, as if ashamed of the business they
were about to perform. In the rest of the line
the men exchanged a few words with each ether,
now and then, quietly, but the company referred
to, spoke not a word to each other. Their offi-
cers stood in a little knot by themselves, and evi-
dently felt sad at heart when they remembered
the business before them, for their comrade con-
demned to die had been a universal favorite.
But a few moments transpired, after the form-
ing of the line, before an aid-de-camp approached
and transmitted an order to the first-lieutenant,
now commanding the company, and the first file
of twelve men were marched away to the rear of
the barracks, while the rest of the company were
sent to the prison to do guard duty in escorting
the prisoner to the ground. It seemed to them
as though this additional insult might have been
spared to the prisoner — that of being guarded by
his late command, in place of any other portion
of the regiment being detailed for this service.
But this was General Harcro's management,
who seemed to gloat in his own diabolical pur-
CHAPTER IX.
THE EXECUTION SCENE.
TnE morning was bright and beautiful tliat
ushered in the day which was appointed for the
execution of Captain Lorenzo Bezan, in accord-
ance with tlie sentence passed upon him. The
birds carolled gaily in the little grove that is
formed about the fountain which fronts tho gov-
ernor-general's palace and the main barracks of
the army, while the fresh, soft air from inland
came loaded with delicious flavors and sweet
aroma. Nature could hardly have assumed a
more captivating mood than she wore at that
time.
The soldiers, wlio sauntered about the Plaza,
and hung around the doors of tho guard house,
wore an air quite different from that which the
poses.
In tho meantime the prisoner had risen that
morning from his damp, rude couch, and had
completed his simple toilet with more than usual
neatness. After offering up a sincere prayer,
and listening to the words of the priest who had
been sent to prepare him for the last hour, he
declared calmly that he was ready to die. He
had looked for Euez Gonzales, and wondered
not a little that the boy had not come to bid him
farewell that morning — a last, long farewell.
" Perhaps his young he.art wiis too full for him
to do so," said tho doomed soldier; "and yet I
should haA'o felt h.appier to see him again. It is
strange how much his purity and gentleness of
character have caused me to love him. Next to
Isabella Gonzales, surely that boy is nearest to
my heart. Poor Euez will miss me, for the boy
loves me much."
As he mused thus to himself, the steady and
regular tread of armed men was heard approach-
ing his prison door, .and tlie young soldier knew
full well for what purpose they came. In a few
moments after, ho who had formerly been his
second in command entered the coll and saluted
the prisoner respectfully.
" Captain Bezan," said the lieutenant, " Ineed
not explain in detail to you the very unpleasant
business upon which I have been at this time
sent, nor add," continued the officer, in a lower
tone of voice, "how much I regret the fate that
awaits you."
"Nay, Ferdinand," answered Captain Bezan,
calmly, " say nothing of the matter, but give me
your hand, my friend, and do your duty."
" Would to God I could in any way avoid it,
Lorenzo," said his brotlier officer, who had lo'tg
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
67
been associated witli him, and who had loved
him well.
''Regrets are useless, Ferdinand. Youknow
we all have our allotted time, and mine has come.
You shall see that I will die like a soldier."
"Ay, Lorenzo; but in such a way; so heart-
lessly, so needlessly, so in cold blood ; alas ! why
were you so imprudent 1 I am no woman, com-
rade. You have fought in the same field,
and slept in the same tent with me oftentimes,
and you know that I have laid the sod upon my
companion's breast without a murmur, without
a complaint ; but tliis business is too much for
me !"
"Fie, fie, man," said the prisoner, with as-
sumed indifference ; " look upon it as a simple
duty ; you but fulfil an order, and there's the
end of it."
" I can't, for the life of me, I can't !"
" Why, my good fellow, come to think of it,
you should not complain, of all others, since it
gives you promotion and the command of our
brave boys.'*
A look of deep reproach was the only answer
be received to this remark.
" Forgive me, Ferdinand, forgive me. I did
but jest," he continued, quickly, as he again
grasped the hand of his comrade between his
own.
" Say no more, Lorenzo. Is there aught I
can do for you before we march ?"
" Nothing."
" No little boon — no service you would like to
trust to a friend and comrade V
" My papers are all aiTanged and addressed
to you, with directions how I should like to have
. them disposed of. There is nothing else, Ferdi-
nand."
" It will be my melancholy pleasure to follow
your wishes implicitly," was the reply.
" Thank you, Ferdinand."
"Is that all?"
" AIL"
" Then we must at once away."
" One moment— stay, Ferdinand ; tell my poor
boys who act the executioners, those of the ^first
fihy to fire low — at vnj keart, Ferdinand ! You
will remember V
"Alas! yes," said his comrade, turning sud-
denly away from the prisoner.
"And tell them, Ferdinand, that I most heart-
ily and sincerely forgive tliem for the part they
are called upon to play in this day's drama."
" I will— I will."
" That is all. I have no other request, and
am prepared now to follow you," he added, with
a calm and resigned expression of countenance.
The drum beat — the file opened — the prisoner
took his position, and the detachment of men
whom he had so often commanded amid the
carnage of battle and the roar of cannon, now
guarded him towards the place of his execution.
Lorenzo Bczan had but a little way to march ;
but still a blusla suffused his face as he passed,
thus humiliated, through the public Plaza, where
he had so often j^araded his company before.
All eyes were now bent upon him, from the
humblest to the highest, for he was well known,
and his fate had created much remark among
all. He was marched quietly to the rear of the
barracks, and as the company filed by the guard
house, to the long open space on the city side,
just opposite Moro Castle, he distinctly heard a
voice from one of the windows say :
" God bless and help you. Captain Bezan !"
He turned partially round to see the speaker,
but no one was visible. He was sure it was
Enez's voice, and wondering why he did not
come forward to meet his eye, he marched on to
the plain where the entire division of General
Harero's command was drawn up to witness the
scene. It is difficult to conceive, and much
more so to describe, such an impressive sight as
presented itself at this moment to the spectator.
There was so much mockery in the brilliant
uniforms, flaunting plumes and gilded accouti-e-
ments of the soldiery, 'when contrasted with the
purpose of the scene, that one could hardly con-
template the sight even for a moment with ordi-
nary composure.
The prisoner, attended by a private and t^vo
officers, was led to his position, where, divested
of his coat, he stood simply in his linen and
nether garments, and quietly submitted to have
his hands bound behind hira, while he exchanged
a few pleasant words with those who were about
him. At a signal from the provost marshal, one
of the ofiieers essayed to bind a handkerchief be-
fore his eyes, but at an earnest request to the
contrary by the prisoner, he desisted, and in a
moment after he stood alone beside the open
grave that had been dug to receive his remains !
Behind him rolled the ocean, mingling with
the waters of the Gulf Stream ; on either side
were ranged the longlineof infantry that formed
his division, while in front was ranged his own
company, and some ten yards in front of them
stood the file of thirteen men who were to be his
executioners. They had just been supplied with
their muskets by an officer, and were told that
one was without ball, that each one might hope
his was not the hand to slay his former comrade
in arms. Another signal from the provost, and
the lieutenant commanding Captain Bezan's
company advanced from the rear to the side of
the first file to his regular position, at the same
time saying in a low voice :
" Fire low, my men, as yon love our former
comrade — aim at his lieatt .'"
A glance, and a sad one of intelligence, was
all he could receive from the men. Two or three
successive orders brouglit the file to the proper
position for firing.
At that moment Lorenzo Bezan, with a slight
exertion of the great physical strength which he
possessecl, easily broke the cords asunder that
bound his wrists behind him, and dashing the
dark hair from his high and manly forehead, he
calmly folded his arms upon his breast, and
awaited the fire that was to end his existence.
The fearful word was given by the officer, and
so still was every one, so breathless the whole
scene, that the order was distinctly heard through
the entire length of tlie lines.
The morning sun shone like living fire along
the polislied barrels of the guns, as the muzzles
all ranged in point towards the heart of the con-
demned. In spite of the effort not to do so, the
officer paused between the order to aim, and that
to fire. The word appeared to stick in his
throat, and he opened bis mouth twice before he
could utter the order ; but at last he did so, dis-
tinctly, though with a powerful effort.
The sharp, quick report of the muskets that
followed this order, seemed to jar upon every
heart among that military throng, except, indeed,
of him who sat upon a large dapple gray horse,
at the right of the line, and whose insignia be-
spoke him to be the commanding officer, General
Harero. He sat upon his horse like a statue,
with a calm but determined expression upon his
features, while a stern smile might be observed
to wreathe his lips for an instant at the report of
the guns fired by the executing file.
But see, as the smoke steadily sweeps to sea-
ward, for a moment it completely covers the
spot where the victim stood, and now it sweeps
swiftly off over the water. But what means that
singular murmur so audible along the line — that
movement of surprise and astonishment observed
in all directions ?
Behold, there stood erect the unharmed form
of Lorenzo Bezan ! Not a hair of his head was
injured ; not a line of his noble countenance was
in the least distorted. As calm as though nought
had happened, he stood there unmoved. He
had so braced himself to the effort, that nothing
human could have unnerved him. Hastily di-
recting an aid-de-camp to the spot with some
new order, General Harero issued anotlier to his
officers for the lines to be kept firm, and prepar-
ations were instantly set about for another and
more certain attempt upon the life of the con-
demned, who seemed to the spectators to have
escaped by some divine interposition, little less
than a miracle.
At that instant there dashed into the ai-ea a
mounted aid-de-camp, bearing the uniform of
the governor-general's suite, and riding directly
up to General Harero, he handed him a paper.
It was done before the whole line of militaiy and
the spectators, all of whom seemed to know as
well its purport as did tlie general after reading it.
" A reprieve ! A reprieve !" ran from mouth
to mouth along the whole length of the line,
until at last it broke out in one wild huzza, defy-
ing all discipline.
Tliose nearest to General Harero heard him
utter a cm-se, deep but suppressed, for the sur-
mise of the multitude was con-eet. Captain Be-
zan had been reprieved ; and, probabh^ in fear
of this very thing, the general of the division had
taken upon himself to set the time of execution
one hour earlier than had been announced to
Tacon — a piece of villany tha't had neai'ly cut off
the young soldier from the clemency that the
governor had resolved to extend to him at the
very last moment, when the impressiveness of
the scene should have had its effect.
Issuing one or two hasty orders. General Ha-
rero put spurs to his horse and dashed off the
grounds with chagrin but too plainly written in
his face not to betray itself. He could even de-
tect a hiss now and then from the crowd, as lie
passed ; and one or two, bolder than the rest,
cast epithets at him in vile language, but he
paused not to listen. He was no favorite with
citizens or soldiers, and hastily dismounting at
tlie door of tlie palace, he sought his own room
with feelings of suppressed rage and bitterness.
But what was the meaning of those twelve
musketeers all missing their aim "? So vexed
was General Harero at this, that his first order
was for their united arrest ; but that had been
countermanded now, since the governor had re-
prieved the prisoner ; for the general saw that he
stood in a false position, in having changed the
hour for execution, and did not cai-e to provoke
a controversy that might lead to his exposure
before the stern justice of Tacon, and he did well
to avoid it. •
It was very plain to officers and men that there
had been foul play somewhere, and so excited
had the division become by this time, that the
officers began to look seriously at each other,
fearing an immediate outbreak and disregard of
discipline. It was a time to txj the troops, if
one had ever occurred. They would have stood
firm and have received an enemy's fire without
wavering; but there seemed some cold-blooded
rascality here, in the arriving of the reprieve after
the twelve men had fired, even though they did
so ineffectually.
Quick, stern orders were quickly passed from
line to line, the division was wheeled into col-
umn, the drums beat a quick march, and the
whole column passed up the Calle del Iguasio
towards the front of the main barracks, where,
lest the symptoms, already referred to, should
ripen into sometliing more serious still, orders
were issued to keep the division still under arms.
In the meantime. Captain Lorenzo Bezan, still
as calm as though nought had occurred, was
marched back to his cell in the prison, to hear
the conditions upon which the reprieve, as dic-
tated by Tacon, was granted. As he passed the
guard house again, on his return, he heard his
name called as he had heard it when he marched
with the guard :
" God bless you. Captain Bezan !"
" Strange," tliought the prisoner — he knew it
for Buez Gonzales's voice at once ; " where can
that boy be secreted V He mused for a second
of time. This was the portion of the guard
room where the officer on duty had loaded the
guns for his execution, and from here they had
been taken and passed into the hands of the men.
It did not require much peneti'ation on the part
of the reprieved soldier to understand now the
reason why these twelve men had missed their
aim !
How it was accomplished, of course he knew
not ; nor could he hardly surmise in his oivn
mind, so very strictly is the care of such matters
attended to under all like circumstances ; but
one thing he felt perfectly sure of, and indeed he
was right in his conjecture — Ruez had drawn the
bullets from the guns!
CHAPTEE X.
THE BANISHMENT.
Lorenzo Bezan had hardly reached his place
of confinement, once more, before he was waited
upon by the secretary of the governor-general,
who explained to him the terms on which his
reprieve was granted, viz., that he should leave
the territory and soil of Cuba by the next home-
ward hound packet to Spain, to remain there,
unless otherwise ordered by special direction of
the government. His rank as captain of infantry
was secured to him, and the usual exhortation
in sncli cases was detailed, as to the hope that
the present example might not be lost upon him,
as to the matter of a more strict adherence to
the subject of military discipline.
Repugnant as was the proposition to leave the
island while life was his, Lorenzo Bezan had no
alternative but to do so ; and, moreover, when
he considered the attraction that held him on the
spot, how the Senorita Isabella Gonzales had
treated him, when she had every reason to be-
lieve that it was his last meeting with her, and
nearly the last hour of his life, he saw that if she
would treat liim thus at such a moment, then,
when he had not the excuse of remarkable exi-
gency and the prospect of certain death before
him, she would be no kinder. It was while ex-
ercised by such thoughts as these that he an-
swered the secretary :
" Bear my thanks, with much respect, to the
governor-general, and tell him that I accept from
himhis noble clemency and justice, the boon of
my life, on his own terms."
The secretary bowed low and departed.
We might tell the reader how Lorenzo Bczan
threw himself upon his bed of straw, and wept
like a child — how he shed tiiere the first tears he
had shed since his arrest, freely and without a
check. His heart seemed to bleed more at the
idea of leaving the spot where Isabella lived,
and yet to live on himself, elsewhere, than his
spirit had faltered at the idea of certain death.
Her last cruel words, and the proud spirit she
exhibited towards him, were constantly before
his eyes.
" 0," said he, half aloud, "how I have wor-
shipped, how adored that fairest of God's crea-
tures I"
At moments he had thought that he saw
through Isabella's character — at moments had
truly believed that he might by assiduity, per-
haps, if favored by fortune, win her love, and,
may be, her hand in marriage. At any rate,
with his light and buoyant heart, there was sun-
shine and hope enough in the future to irradiate
his soul with joy, until the last scene in his drama
of life, added to that of her last cold farewell!
He was soon informed that the vessel wliich
was to take him to Spain would sail on tiie fol-
lo^ving morning, and that no further time would
be permitted to him on the island. He resolved
to write one last letter of farewell to Isabella
Gonzales, and then to depart ; and calling upon
the turnkey for writing materials, which were
now supplied to him, he wx-ote as follows :
" Dear Ladt : Strange circumstances, with
which you are doubtless well acquainted by
this time, have changed my punishment from
death to banishment. Under ordinary cu-cura-
stanees it would hardly be called banishment for
any person to be sent from a foreign clime to
the place of his nativity ; nor would it appear to
be such to me, were it not that I leave behind
me the only being I have ever really loved — the
idol angel of my heart — she who has been to
me life, soul, everything, until now, when I am
■\ATetehed beyond description; because without
hope, all things would he as darkness to the hu-
man heart.
" I need not review our brief acquaintanceship,
or reiterate to you the feelings I have already
expressed. If you can judge between true love
and gallantry, you know whether I am sincere or
otherwise. I could not offer you wealth, Isabella
Gonzales. I could not offer yon rank. I have
no fame to share with you ; but 0, if it be the
will of Heaven that another should call you wife,
I pray that he may love you as I have done. I
am not so selfisli but that I can utter this prayer
with all my heart, and in the utmost sincerity.
" The object of this hasty scrawl is once more
to say to you farewell ; for it is sweet to me even
to address you. May God bless your dear
brother, who has done much to sustain me,
bowed dowm as I have been with misfortune, and
broken in spu'it ; and may the especial blessing
of Heaven rest ever on and around you.
" This will ever be the nightly prayer of
Lorenzo Bezan."
When Isabella Gonzales received this note on
the following day, its author was nearly a dozen
leagues at sea, bound for the port of Cadiz, Spain !
She hastily perused its contents again and again.
looked off upon the open sea, as though she
might be able to recall him, threw herself upon
her couch, and wept bitter, scalding tears, until
weary nature caused her to sleep.
At last Buez stole into her room quietly, and
finding her asleep, and a- tear-drop glistening
still upon her cheek, he kissed away the peai-ly
dew and awoke her once more to consciousness.
He, too, had learned of Captain Bezan's sudden
departure ; and by the open letter in his sister's
hand, to which he saw appended his dearly loved
friend's name, he judged that her weeping had
been caused by the knowledge that he had left
them — probably forever.
Lorenzo Bezan should have seen her then, in
her almost transcendent beauty, too proud, far
too proud, to own even to herself that she loved
the poor soldier ; yet her heart would thus unbid-
den and spontaneously betray itself, in spite
of all her proud calmness, and strong efforts
at self-control. The boy looked at her earnestly ;
twice he essayed to speak, and then, as if some
after tliought had changed his purpose, he Idsscd
her again, and was silent.
[to be continued.]
68
GLEASON'S PICrrORIAL DRAWIJJG ROOM COMPANION.
SECOND ILLUSTJIATEI) SEIIIES OF VIEWS OF NIAGARA FALLS.
A GENEEAL VIEAV OF NIAGARA FALLS, FROM TILE Ai\lERICAN SIDE.
THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.
We present to our readers this week a continuation of our
series of views of Niagara Falls. They are of the same
effective character as those given in a former nnmher, and
furnish a fine idea of this stupendous wonder of the world,
which has been the admiration of every lover of nature in
its exhibitions of sublimity aud grandeur. From the sum-
mit of the perpendicular rocks, at the base of which we have
halted, the view, although composed of tlic same elements,
presents a totally different combination of lines. The
American Fall no longer thunders overhead ; it boils at our
feet, and the lower gulf expands beneath our eyes like a
vast arena, as far as the English Fall, whose sliifting curtain
extends in the form of a horse-shoe from one bend to the
otiier. On the upper plateau is traced the curve of the
Gi-eat Rapids, intercepted on tlie left by the shadows of Iris
Island. The Hog's Back, which faces ns, towers above
Prospect Island, enveloped in a belt of foam, above the level
of which its soil rises but a few feet. Halting on the ex-
treme point of the American shore, we can dip our feet in
tlie Rapids at the very point where they launcli into the abyss.
To cross the river, a line of ferry boats has been established
below the American Fall. Tlie passage, secured from dan-
ger by the solidity of the boats, and the skill of the oarsmen,
offers no inconveniences but the motion of the waters still
agitated by the recoil of their fall, and the fine and penetra-
ting rain which the wind often sweeps over tlie transit of the
boats, to the great discomfort of the passengers. To spare
the latter the fatigue of a long descent to the shore, the
gigantic wall of granite on the American side has been
deeply excavated ; then, by filling up the vacuum at the base
with the masses detached from the summit, a slope, steep
but regular, has been formed, on which a double iron track
has been laid. Two cars, each containing perhaps a dozen
persons, furnished with seats arranged like those of an am-
phitheatre, move upon this inelnied plane. They are at-
tached to each other by an enormous cable and iron chains
the length of the descent, so that by tlie same movetncnts,
one car ascends while the other is descending. You thus
behold yourself transported under a curved gallery, from
the upper platform of the Rapids to the lower level of the
•■V -\:t- V:
YIEAV OF THE FACTORIES.
river. This descent is not entirely divested of something
terrifying. It is very difficult, once launched upon your
course, not to keep thinking that if the cable should break,
the car would escape, and you would be crushed and pul-
verized to atoms before reaching the shores of tlie river.
But at Niagara the traveller becomes necessarily familiarized
with this sort of chance. On the opposite bank, the English
have established a winding road, which allows vehicles to
reach the landing-place, and by an odd contrast, a carriage
station plants the standard of human civilization, like a de-
fiance, almost, in the veiy teeth of the grand cataclysm of
natui'e. At the top of the hill stands the Clifton House,
and, a few hundred yards further. Point Victoria projects
over the stream. Thence, with a spirit calmed, and with
the eye soothed by the distance of the cataracts, you can
measure the distances, and analyze the marvels. It is the
proper point, then, to introduce a few figures into our de-
scription. Tlie total of the grand curve formed by the three
falls and by Iris and Prospect Islands, comprises a line of
1400 yards. The American Fall is 164 feet in height; the
Central Fall the same height, and the English Fall 158 feet.
"With regard to the quantity of water passing over the falls,
Br. Dwight has made the following calculation : Admitting
the rate of the current to be six miles an hour, 1,225,108,800
hogsheads are discharged in a day ; 102,092,400 in an hour ;
1,701,540 a minute, and 28,359 in a second. The quantity
necessarily varies a good deal with the condition of the
atmosphere. Thus a violent wind, rolling the waters of
Lake Erie into the Niagara, may produce an increase of two
feet at the falls. Descending the course of the river on
either shore for the space of a mile and a half, you reach the
Suspension Bridge, represented on next page. Although
the construction is similar to that of other bridges of the kind,
yet its elevation above the waters, the absence of all inter-
mediate support, and the savage aspect of the surrounding
scenery, give it a particular character of boldness and light-
ness. The workmen who built it remember well the wicker
basket which transported four persons along the first cable,
■ stretched from one shore to the other ; and they tell you
that the first carriage launched upon this road, v/as driven
full speed by an American, although the railing had not been
QPNERAJ^ VIEW OF NIAGARA FALLS FROM THE CANADA SIDE.
I
GLEASON'S riCTOEIAL DRA^^XG ROOIM COMPANION.
69
THE SUSPENSION BRIDGE.
put up. The railroad from Lewiston to Niagara passes the hridgc. This is another monument ot
the unparalleled boldness of the Americans. To economize the purchase of land in an enteprise in
which the first funds were inconsiderable, they had the courage to lead the iron road along the ex-
treme verge of the gigantic shelves of rock which compress the river. There is one place where a
fissure, produced by the caving away of a rock, extends for about a foot and a half below one of the
rails, which thus bestrides a precipice. To see the trains running along the brink of these abysses
is enough to give one the vertigo ; but to make the passage
yourself — to pass over the cavity alluded to, is to experience
to what point, for the sake of pleasure or curiosity, one can
sport with the chance of an inevitable death. Near the
Suspension Bridge an easy road conducts carriages and foot
passengers to the steamboat landing, whence the Maid of
the Mrst starts several times a day, to run along the two
steep banks of the river, passing into the volumes of vapor
thrown off by the cataracts, and drenching the passengers
for a moment like a rain storm. This is the unavoidable
baptism of every new comer, before experience has revealed
the necessity of seeking shelter before approaching the
American Fall. After having hugged it very close, the
steamer pursues its course along the lower banks of Iris
Island, and approaches the curve of the great fall. Under
the impulse of powerful machines it struggles for a moment
to keep its place near the boiling limits beyond which its
fate would be instant and inevitable. On a sea of foam,
stirred to the very bottom of its abysses, it bows, rises, and
inclines again ; but soon the cuiTent seizes it and hurls it to
a distance with an invincible strength, the impetus of which
cannot be overcome, till it approaches the road leading up
to the Clifton House, where travellers usually land. To
reach the great fall from this side, you skirt uninterrupted
the steep brink of the precipice which leads to Table Rock.
Successive crumblings away of the rock have profoundly
modified the form of this platform, whose projection, as we
have explained, forms the arch which allows you to pene-
trate behind the great fall. In 1818, a surface 160 feet long,
and 30 or 40 wide, detached itself, fortunately in the midst
of the night. Other less considerable slides occurred in
1828, 1829, and 1850. No sort of precaution is taken to
prevent accidents. Profound fissures furrow, in different
places, what still remains of this gigantic mass, and yet, with
incredible carelessness, hundreds of curious people every
day crowd and bend over the abysses to procure themselves
the fascination of the vertigo. It is from the height of the
hill surmounted by Table Rock that the eye embraces the
most complete and striking panorama of the cataracts. In
1837, a steamboat (the Caroline), used to furnish supplies to
the insurgent Canadians, was taken by the British at Chip-
TIIE LIGHTHOUSE.
pewa, and abandoned, all on fire, to the Rapids. It was night. She crossed, like a fiery meteor,
the whole of that vast arena of reefs which lier passage lighted up. Five or six unfortunate persons,
concealed on board, were said to have been swept away by tliis floating conflagration. The fiery
crater was launched into the cataracts and extinguished like a spark in the crater of the waters.
From which ever side you examine the great fall, you perceive on the left side of the Horse Shoe, a
solitary and motionless tower, which like a lighthouse rises above the very edge of the abyss in
which it seems about to sink each moment. To reach it
you must cross the beautiful Iris Island, that oasis of calm,
freshness and shade in the troubled desert of the rapids.
You descend on the side of the great fall, and advance along
a footway called Terrapin Bridge, which from rock to rock
reaches the base of the tower. The Prospect Tower is only
called Lighthouse from analogy, for no other light but
that of cigars was ever kindled tliere that we know of. It is
a sort of stone watch-tower, 45 feet high, enclosing only a
spiral staircase, and sujiporting on its summit a circular
wooden gallery, whence the eye embraces all the surround-
ing details, and plunD:es into the very heart of the terrible
Horse Shoe. Around its base, rocks have been rolled by
the force of the currents ; some have disappeared in the
gulf, and others ai'C threatening to sink every hour. The
American Fall, though sublime, inclines to the beautiful;
while the Canadian Fall, though beautiful, is characterized
by an overpowering sublimity. On the American side, the
water power is immense, and easily available. The river
at the falls is a little over three-fourths of a mile wide, but
below, it is immediately compressed to less than one-fourth
of a mile wide, and, as ascertained by sounding, is about
250 feet deep. About two miles below the falls the river Is
comparatively smooth, and thence to Lewiston it flows with
amazing rapidity. While the river makes a constant descent,
the banks have a gradual ascent for six miles ; and some
have supposed that the falls have receded from Queenstown
to their present situation ; but they are known now to occupy
the same situation that they did 200 years since. About two
miles below the falls on the American side, is a mineral
spring, containing sulphuric and muriatic acids, lime and
magnesia, useful in scrofulous, rheumatic, and cutaneous
complaints. One mile further down is a terrihc whirlpool,
almost as tremendous as the Mxlsti'om of Norway, where
logs and trees are wdiirled round for days in its outer circles,
and finally drawn down perpendicularly with great force,
and shot out again at the distance of many rods. The num-
ber of visitors at the falls is from twelve to fifteen thousand
annually, and is continually increasing. The fashionable,
the opulent, and the learned here congregate in the summer
season from all parts of the civilized world.
VIEW OF THE GRAND RAPIDS AND THE HORSESHOE.
70
GLEASON'S PICTOllTAL DP.AWING ROOM COI\IPANI()N.
[Written for Gleiwon'H Pictorial.]
O COME NOT TO ME.
INSCIIIBED TO MI3S E. HICKS.
BY JOHN D. JOHNSON, M. D.
0 ccmio not to me, If thou scok'at for a namo
That 'h hi'ightly omhlazonod on tho annal of famo |
That's wiifted afar on the voice of tho crowd,
And worshipped in state at its shrino by tho proud.
But como thou to mo, if thou fligh'at for a namo
That'.', chcriHhod in hoart.4 hy alTcctlon's mild Ilamo;
That's whispered in softness by lips that arc near,
And worshipped in silence by those that ai-o dear.
0 como not to mc, if thou long'st for a face
That 'b moulded in beauty, and tempered by gi-uce ;
Or a tongue, whose soft cadence shall fall on tho car
As softly, as sweetly, as perfumes ou air.
But flee thou to mo, if thou wish for a face,
Where each feeling that springs from the heart finds a place ;
Whore tho tongue is not wanted its love to deelare,
For a glance on that face tells thee all that is there.
0 come not to mo, if wealth is your wish,
1 have not, I care not, for wealth such as this ;
The gold that I offer is mined from tho heart,
If that will not buy thee, wo better had part.
0 come not to me, if the world you would roam,
The world that encircles my footsteps is " home ;"
Though yours full of sunshine and beauty may bo.
Still mine has most sunshine and beauty for me.
0 the love that I offer, like the plant that is seen,
Does not shrink from tho winter, but blooms " ever-green ;"
The leaves will not scatter, the veins will not ehill,
Then 0 come not to me, unless such you can feel.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ISABELLA.
EY EVA MILFORD.
" A FOREIGN lady "wishes to see you, madam,
and bid me give you this letter," said my ser-
vant, interrupting a dreamy summer reverie
■which I was indulging in ray favorite garden-
seat.
I sighed " 0 dear!" and took the letter; but
my eyes lighted up as I recognized the hand-
writing of a dear and valued cousin who had
some years previously married a Spanish senor,
and followed him to his native land. The en-
velope was unsealed, and contained a slip of pa-
per and a bulky letter ornamented with my cou-
siu's well-known seal. I took up the billet first,
which contained merely these words:
." Will my very dear cousin extend a helping
hand to this poor exile from home, and love, and
hope ? She speaks very little English ; but you
learned Spanish with mc, and was once quite
fluent. Tou will find Isabella di Eibas's story in
the accompanying letter ; but you may safely be-
friend her without reading it."
I at once rose to go into the house, unwilling
to keep the senora -waiting longer, and relying
implicitly upon my cousin's recommendation.
As I entered the drawing-room without much
noise, I saw the senora standing before a copy of
Raphael's most lovely Madonna; her hands
clasped, her eyes swimming in tears, and her
lips moving rapidly though noiselessly. I knew
that she was invoking the aid of the Mother of
God, and I respected her faitli, although my own
religious views were so widely different. I
stepped back into the hall, and moved a ehair
somewhat noisily to herald my approach. It
had the desired effect, for, as I again entered the
room, the melanclioly face had acquired a calm
and dignified expression, and the hastily wiped
eyes were expectantly fixed upon the door. I
hastened to extend my hand, and to say in
Spanish :
" The friend of my cousin is most welcome to
my house."
The color flashed almost proudly into the pale
face as my guest answered in a low rich voice.
" I do not presume to call myself the friend of
the noble Senora di Garcia; but she has been a
kind and constant benefactress to mc, and I am
grateful."
"Iknow that my cousin is as discerning as
she is kind," said I, "and that one of whom she
speaks so highly as she does of you, must be one
whom it will be a pleasure to me to assist. But
tell me," continued I, as she did not seem in-
clined to speak, "what can I at present do for
you V
The color again suffused that face, whose
natural complexion was a pale olive ; but she
re]ilicd firmly :
" I am dependent, senora, on my own exer-
tions for my daily bread, and the greatest benefit
which you can confer will be to give mc the
means of earning it. In hap])ior hours I spent
much time in delicate embroidery, anrl I liavo
considerable skill, I believe. I also can draw,
and I can speak French as well as a native
and — "
But licr voice, which had laltercd during the
last sentence, Iiero failed her altogether; and
covering Iier face, she burst into a passionate
flood of tears. I was most sincerely grieved at
her distress, and sat down hy her, saying some
sootliing words, and wondering in my own heart
what -was her history, and how I should relieve
this tori-ent of grief. But she recovered licr
equanimity almost as soon as .she had lost it;
and, wiping her eyes, she raised them to mine,
saying, with a melancholy smile, as she rose
to go:
" Pardon mc, senora. My nerves arc some-
what over-wrought by excitement, and other
things ; but I am calm now, and will trouble you
no longer."
I inquired her address, which was at a cheap
boarding-house in a street of which I knew noth-
ing but the name ; and, telling her that she
should hear from me very soon, I i^ressed her
hand and bid her adieu.
That same evening, I dispatched a messenger
to her with a bundle of fine needle-work, enclos-
ing a liberal compensation, for some things in
her appearance made mc fear that she was suf-
fering for want. I also begged her acceptance
of a few little dainties, which I judged would be
more tempting to her appetite than the usual
fare of a cheap boai-ding-house. This duty, for
so I considered it, completed, I turned with eager
interest to my cousin's letter, which was to give
me the previous history of my new protege. It
was in amount this :
Maria di Ribas (the mother of Isabella), was
the child of a noble but impoverished caballero
of old Spain. Pier mother died at her birth, and
her father closed his eyes during his only child's
fifteenth summer, leaving her to the care of an
aged grandmother. In less than a year from
her father's death, the young and beautiful dam-
sel had contracted a marriage with a young Por-
tuguese officer, who was travelling to recniit his
health, impaired by a severe wound. The ro-
mantic girl was at once fascinated by the some-
what pale face and languid eyes of the invalid,
and tlie ami gracefully supported in a military
seaif quite completed the conquest. The old
song says :
"Happy the wooing
That 's not long a-doing."
Certainly this was one of the speediest on record,
for the young captain was forced to join his regi-
ment ou the sixth day from that which first in-
troduced him to the black eyes and rosy lips of
Maria di Ribas.
The poor old grandmother, almost in her
dotage, could not keep watch of her lively
charge, and entrusted her to a faithful duenna,
but alas ! this ancient maiden had a tender heart,
and could not resist the united fascinations of
Maria's coaxing ways and the hoard of gold
pieces of her lover. Thus the result was that in
the dusk of the evening preceding the departure
of Gonsalvez Diaz for Lisbon, the bewildered
duenna accompanied her young mistress to a se-
cluded church, where awaited them a joyful and
impatient bridegroom.
The old priest, whose mental vision was some-
what obscured by the same golden medium
which had so strongly affected the duenna, read
the service hastily, conferred his blessing, and
motioned to the young couple that all was finish-
ed, and the sooner they were off the better.
They turned and left the church door hand in
hand. Adam and Eve quitting Paradise were
not more friendless upon the face of the earth ;
for Gonzalvez had no relations, and Maria had
by her runaway match offended the few who re-
mained to her. Her future home was her hus-
band's barracks, her future associates, soldiers
and soldiers' wives.
With a slight sinking at the heart, the fair
bride seated herself beside her husband in the
carriage, which was to convey them the first
stage of their long journey; but her lover hus-
band's fond words and caresses soon restored
the gay smile and thoughtless jest. They reach-
ed the garrison town in which Diaz was quarter-
ed, and commenced their matrimonial career —
doomed, however, to bo a short one; for, after
two months of bliss, such as both agreed could
come but once in a life, a dispatch arrived from
head-quarters ordering Captain Diaz to proceed
at once with his regiment to Lorenzana, a small
mountain town in the north of Portugal, which
was the notorious head-quarters of a large troop
of banditti, whose dcprcdation.s had become so
bold and unscrupulous as to demand some at-
tention from government. The parting caused
the greatest soitow to both husband and wife — a
sorrow augmented by the uncertainty of Captain
Diaz's absence; but fate and commanders-in-chief
are inexorable; and the best that the young hus-
band could do was to place his beloved Maria in tlie
family of tlic alcahh of the town, whose son was
also a gallant captain, and the bosom friend of
Gonsalvez Diaz. Tliis young man, at the young
husband's earnest request, undertook the role
of lirother and guardian to the " mourning bride,"
and engaged to watch over her as over his own
sister; and, indeed, few brothers can boast of
such unremitting attention to their sisters as was
paid by Juan di Montejo to tiie fair wife of his
friend.
Month after month glided away, until the day
after the anniversary of their departure, the dus-
ty and travel-worn regiment of Captain Diaz en-
tered the town, where lay centred all the young
soldier's dearest hopes and emotions. Getting
through the foi-malities imposed by martial eti-
quette as quickly as possible, Gonsalvez rushed
to the house of the alcalde, pushed aside the ser-
vant (the" very duenna who had aided his mar-
riage), and burst unannounced into the sfxla,
where he expected to find his Maria.
She was indeed there; but why does the gal-
lant soldier who had forced the hottest front of
battle with unquailing nerves % why does he
now start and turn such a ghastly white ? and
why is he forced to cling for support to that very
door which a minute before he flung so impa-
tiently open 'i Maria indeed was there ; and even
in that agonized moment, her broken-hearted
husband could not deny to himself that her beau-
ty was more glorious than he had ever befoi'e
seen it. But this consciousness was now but
another drop of bitterness in the heart of the
wretched husband. Maria was before him seat-
ed upon a low eoueh, but 0 ! beside her, his arms
around her waist, his head resting upon her
bosom, and his whole attitude one of assumed
and reciprocal love, sat the brother, the guardian,
the trusted and beloved friend ! Gonsalvez stood
before them as though turned to stone, with an
expression upon his fine face of mingled anguish
and rage, such as no limner has ever depicted.
Maria was the first to recover life and motion,
and w^ith an hysterical sob she rushed from the
room, her husband's steady gaze pursuing her.
The scene that followed was brief, stern, and
soldier-like. No time was lost in useless recrimi-
nation; with men of that nation and profession,
there ^vas but one course open, and in five min-
utes from the time wdien Gonsalvez Diaz, a joy-
ful and impatient husband, had rushed into the
house, he left it with twenty years upon his brow,
and the anguish of death gnawing at his heart.
The meeting was arranged to take place at
sunset, outside the walls of the town, and thither,
after providing himself with a friend, who took
the management of the affair upon his ovra.
shoulders, the husband turned his steps to hold a
brief communion with his own heart. But the
effort to think was a bootless one — he could biit
fed, and this he did with an intensity such as few
people are cursed with a capability for.
At the appointed hour the false friend appear-
ed with the seconds, and accompanied by the
regimental surgeon. The combat was short ; a
guilty conscience performed its work upon the
skilful hand of Montejo, and after a very few
passes, his sword flew from his hand, and he lay
disarmed at his enemy's feet. Gonsalvez raised
his sword to plunge it into the heart of his ene-
my, but just as the fatal point was about to ful-
fil its message of death, a nobler thought entered
the mind of the injured husband. He thrust his
sword again into its scabbard, and turning con-
temptuously away, he said :
" Take your life, and try to improve it. I will
not sully my sword with the blood of a traitor to
honor and friendship."
An hoiu* afterward, the wretched and guilty
Maria received the following letter from her
husband :
" We have met for the last time. Of my feel-
ings, of the utter desolation, the living death
which you have brought upon a heart entirely
devoted to you, I wdll say nothing. Your own
conscience in your hours of solitude will suggest
all that I might say. Nor do I hold myself en-
tirely without blame ; I beguiled you from your
home, firmly believing, it is true, that I could
make your life happier than it had ever been;
this was wrong; but could I have been with you,
all might still have been well ; hut 0 ! fool and
idiot that I was, to entrust you to another's care.
But enough of these idle regrets. At sunrise
to-moiTOW my servant will wait at your door
with means of conveyance to your native city,
where, I believe, your grandmother is still alive.
Tell lier from mc that you can no longer be my
wife, and I have returned you to that home from
wliich I should never have taken you."
Maria shed many tears over this last memo-
rial of a husband whom she had so fondly loved;
but it was a relief to her to know that she should
not see him again ; she could not bear tho
thought of again meeting that clear stern eye
which had followed her exit from the room when
she last saw Gonsalvez. Ilcr preparations were
soon made, and at the appointed hour she com-
menced, accompanied only by the taciturn Pedro,
to retrace that path, which but little more than a
year before she had pursued, as a happy bride,
accompanied by a loving husband. Upon the
third day from that in which this sad joumcy
was commenced, Pedro returaed to his master,
who inten'ogated him with a look which Pedro
understood as well as words,
"Senor," said he, "all went well through the
fir.st day, and until noon of the second, wdicn
I stopped at a little inn to feed the mules, and
rest the senora. Just as she was entering the
house, however, a caballero, mounted on a large
black horse, overtook us. He leaped from his
horse and took the senora's hand, then he wliis-
pered to her, and she to him, and then he bid
me return. I asked the senora if such was her
wish, and she trembled and wept, but at last
said, 'Yes, good Pedro, go;* and the caballero
offered me gold, which I did not take, and I
returned."
" Did you know this caballero, Pedro '?"
" Yes, senor."
" And what is his name V
" Don Juan di Montejo, senor."
" Very well, Pedro, you may leave me," said
Gonsalvez, in an unfaltering voice.
From this period, the unhappy Maria's fate
was wretched indeed. She lived for a few years
with her seducer, who had obtained a discharge
from his military service. During this period,
two children were born — Isabella, who was the
means of my knowing this sad history, and a
sister, who happily for herself died in infancy.
When this event occurred, the miserable mother
looking upon it as a warning and punishment
for her evil life, I'ctired to a convent, where she
soon after died, living, however, to hear of the
death of her husband on the field of battle, and
of the marriage of Juan di Montejo.
His wife was a stem cold woman, who held
the little Isabella responsible for the error of her
birth, and treated her accordingly. She had
children of her own, to whom Isabella was a
servant, and she was fast sinking into a mere
household dnidge, when an event occurred which
changed her whole destiny.
It was her twentieth birthday, and Isabella
had been invited with her sisters to attend a large
ball at the house of a rich merchant in the town
where the family then lived. By some singular
freak of good nature in her step-mother, Isa-
bella was permitted for the first time to partici-
pate in the recreations of which her t^vo sisters
were so fond.
This ball had been given by the Senor and
Senora di Contreras, to celebrate the return of
the young Alonzo to his native city. He had
for some years pursued his studies at the univer-
sity of Salamanca, and had now returned to
assist his father in the complicated duties of his
large mercantile establishment. He was hand-
some, talented, witty, gay ; what wonder, then,
that my poor Isabella at once pronounced him,
to her own heart, the most agreeable and love-
able man she had ever seen. So also concluded
the stately Dorothea, ivho, although four years
the junior of Isabella, had seen far more of the
world, and that interesting class of its inhabi-
tants— gay young men, than Isabella had ever
dreamed of.
Very much to Dorothea's astonishment and
indignation, however, Alonzo di Contrei-as paid
his exclusive attention to the despised and neg-
lected elder sister, and certainly Isabella's
handsome features, lighted up with an unwonted
expression of happiness, far outshone the more
insipid and artificial beauty of her sister.
The petted and indulged Dorothea was almost
sick with anger and disappointment, and hardly
waited to arrive at home before she poured out
upon the hapless Isabella the full measure of her
indignation. In this she was joined hy her mo-
ther, who assured Isabella that it was the last
time of her appearing in public, and that if the
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
71
young man should call at the house, she need
not expect to sec him.
Alonzo did come, as indeed he had assured
Isabella he should do, and very fortunately came
when the Senora di Moutcjo and her daughters
were making a visit, so that for t\YO hours the
young couple talked, and looked, and loved ;
for, in that sunny clime, love is a plant of rapid
growth. And when, at the entrance of the other
ladies, Alonzo took a ceremonious leave, he had
declared to the timid girl his passion, and ex-
torted an acknowledgement that she could be
happy with him for life, if his parents could be
brought to consent. But this was a very diflfer-
ent undertaking from what the sanguine lover
had promised. The father would not by any
means consent, and raved and stormed like one
mad at the idea of his only son — his future heir
and head of his ancient family— making such a
misalliance ; and, to iinish all, the proud old don
waited upon the father of Isabella, and a very
stormy interview occurred, the result of which
was, that Isabella, after being soundly scolded by
father, step-mother and sisters, had begged of
her parents to furnish her with funds sufficient
to carry her to America, and to suffer her to for-
ever relieve them of her presence.
This plan was finally acceded to, and in a few-
weeks tlie poor lovely young thing was tossing
upon the wild ocean waves, bound for a new
world, to which her only introduction was my
cousin's letter.
Several days elapsed after my perusal of poor
Isabella's stoiy, and I was meditating a visit to
her retreat, when she was sho\\Ti into the room
where I was seated.
But I hardly recognized in the handsome face,
beaming with joy and hope, the pensive, mourn-
ful features which I had before seen. Taking
my extended hand, she fervently kissed it, and
burst into tears — tears of joy this time, and flow-
ing from an excess of happiness. I hastened to
ask what had occurred to give her so much
pleasure, and finally gathered, amidst her tears
and joyful exclamations, that, on the previous
evening, as she sat weeping bitterly in her
chamber, she was told that a gentleman wished
to see her, and on descending, he had proved to
be Alonzo — her own dear Alonzo !
It appeared that after Isabella's departure, the
young man had fallen into a very melancholy
condition, in fact, had fretted himself quite ill,
and that finally by working on his doting mo-
ther's feelings, who in turn influenced his father,
he had at last obtained their consent to embark
for America, where the Senor di Contreras had
a flourishing branch establishment, of which
Alonzo was to take charge.
The parents also consented to the only wish
of his heart — a marriage with Isabella, but only
on condition that, in her destitution and. despair,
she had done nothing to sully in her own person
that name which her mother had so feaifully
compromised.
Alonzo had fearlessly given this promise, and
his trust was not misplaced. A few weeks more
(which, by the way, were spent by the young
lady at my house), and the gay and smiling
Senora di Contreras had forgotten completely
the sorrows of Isabella di Ribas; and she, her
husband and a little year old fairy, are at this
moment one of the happiest firailies ot my
acquaintance.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ATTEND.UVT ANGELS.
BY W. i. FOGG.
Angel forms are round mo ever,
Sweetly on me smiling ;
And from earth's dim patliwi^) never
Cease they their beguiling.
When the rich, effulgent hght
Of the day is beaming ;
"When, far througla the shadowy night,
Stai-ry worlds are gleaming :
When the happy hours of life
Speedily are flying ;
And when they with grief are rife,
When the loved are dying :
Ever to my cup of joy.
Add they more of gladness ;
And within my soul destroy
Every trace of sadness.
Thus are angels round me ever
Sweetly ou me smiling ;
And from earth's dim pathway, never
Cease they their beguiling,
Fools and obstinate people make lawyers rich.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
HU3IBLE WORTH.
BY JOSEPH COMER.
Tell me not that he 's a poor man,
That his dress is coarse and bare ;
Tell me not his dfiily pitt;ince
Is a workman's scanty fare.
Tell me not his birth is humble,
That his parentage is low :
Is he honest in his actions ?
This is all I want to know.
Is his word to be relied on ?
Has his chai-acter no blame ?
Then I care not if he 's low born,
Then I ask not whence he came.
Would he from an unju.st action
Turn away with scornful eye?
Would he, than defraud another,
Sooner on the scaffold die ?
.Would he spend his hard-gained earnings
On a brother in distress?
Would he sooner the Jifflictcd,
And the weak one's wrongs redress ?
Then he is a man deserving
Of my love and my esteem ;
And I care not what bis birthplace
In the eye of man may seem.
Let it be a log-built hovel,
Let it be a thatched and clay-built cot ;
Let it be a conmion poor-house.
In my eye it matters not.
And if others will disown him,
As inferior to their caste,
Let them do it — I befriend him,
As a brother, to the last.
IXTERESTIiVG IIVClDEiNT.
A day or two ago, T. F. Meagher, in company
with Commodore Daniels, of Baltimore, and his
friend P. J. Smyth, visited the navy yard, and
went on board the American ship-of-war Inde-
pendence, lying out in the stream. He was re-
ceived very courteously by Commodore Morgan,
who showed him all through the ship, enter-
tained him at lunch, and off"ered him the use of
one of his boats at any time he wanted it. Mr.
Meaglier being introduced to the officers, one of
them, on liearing the name, said he thought he
met him in company with a Mr. Smyth in the
Mediten-anean, in 1S49. Mr. Meagher said it
was impossible; but on some explanation, it
turned out to be his brother. The officer then
passed a high eulogy on that gentleman, and
said he would never forgot his attention and de-
votion to a brother officer, Lieutenant Bayard,
of Philadelphia, who had been scorched by the
burning lava in an eruption from Vesuvius, and
had died from the eflects. Young Meagher at-
tended his bedside, on board of the ship, for five
daj'S and nights, without undressing or going to
bed, till the poor fellow died. So much did the
oflicers admire his conduct tliat his name be-
came a household word on board, and there-
fore, not only on Iiis own account but his broth-
er's, Mr. Meagher was a welcome guest on board
the Independence. He mot among the oflicers
one or two college mates, who were delighted to
see him. In fact, all were rejoiced to make his
acquaintance. — Boston Pilot.
BARBERS.
He that is old enough to remember the reign
of Puvilio and Pomatum, now utterly passed
away, will do justice to tlie former dignity and
importance of these practitioners. When a cush-
ion reposed amid the umbrageous labjTlnth of
every female head, into which pins of nine inches
long were thrust to support the intricate expan-
sion of her outfrixzod hair, while the artist busily
plied his puff, surcharged with Marechale or
brown powder, redolent of spice; — when every
gentleman's sconce was wavy with voluminous
and involuted curls, and he sat daily in his pow-
dering room, then an indispensable apartment,
gazing through the horny eyes of his mask upon
his putting decorator, dim amid tlie cloud of dust
as the Juno of Ixion ; when all this complicated
" titivation " was to be incurred with aggravated
detail before every dinner-party or ball — then
was the time when the barbers, like the celestial
bodies, which have great gloi-y and little rest,
were harassed and honored, tipped and torment-
ed, coaxed and cursed. — Horace Smith.
SLEEP.
The most violent passions and excitements of
mind cannot preserve even poweiful minds from
sleep ; thus Alexander the Great slept on the
field of Arbela, and Napoleon upon that of Aus-
terlitz. Even stripes and torture cannot keep off
sleep, as criminals have been kno^Ti to sleep on
the rack. Noises which at first serve to drive
away sleep, soon become indispensable to its ex-
istence ; thus a stage-coach stopping to change
horses, wakes all the passengers.
The proprietor of an iron forge, who slept
close to the din of hammers, forges and blast-
furnaces, would awake if there was any interrup-
tion to them during the niglit; and a sick miller,
who had his mill stopped on that account, passed
sleepless nights until the mill resumed its usual
noise. Homer, in his Iliad, elegantly represents
sleep as overcoming all men, and even the gods,
except Jupiter alone. — Mackniffht.
TEST OF A FRENCini.\N.
The oflice and duty of the poet is to select the
most dignified as well as
"The gayest, happiest attitude of things."
The reverse — for, in all cases, a reverse is possi-
ble— is the appropriate business of burlesque and
travesty, a predominant taste for which has al-
ways been deemed a mark of a low and degraded
mind. When I was at Rome, among many other
visits to the tomb of Julius II., I went thither
once with a Prussian artist, a man of genius and
great vivacity of feeling. As we were gazing ou
Michael Angelo's Moses, our conversation turn-
ed on the horns and beard of that stupendous
statue ; of the necessity of each to support the
other ; of the superhuman eft'ect of the former,
and the necessity of the existence of both to give
a harmony and integrity both to the image and
the feeling excited by it. Conceive them re-
moved, and the statue would become ;(??-natural,
without being K^pez-natural. We called to mind
the hoi'us of the rising sun, and I repeated the
noble passage from Taylor's Holy Dying. That
horns were the emblem of power and sovereignty
among the eastern nations, and are still retained
as such in Abj-'ssinia, the Achelous of the ancient
Greeks ; and the probable ideas and feelings,
that originally suggested the mixture of the hu-
man and the brute fonn in the figure, by which
they realized the idea of the mysterious Pan, as
representing intelligence blended with a darker
power, deeper, mightier, and more universal
than the conscious intellect of man — than intelli-
gence ; — all these thoughts and recollections
passed in procession before our minds. My
companion, who possessed more than his share
of the hatred which his countrymen bore to the
French, had just observed to me, " a Prench-
man, sir, i^ the only animal in the human shape
that by no possibility can lift itself up to religion
or poeti-y ;" when, lo ! two Freucii officers of dis-
tinction and rank entered the church ! " Mark
you," whispered the Prussian, "the first thing
which those scoundrels would notice — for they
will begin by instantly noticing the statue in
parts, without one moment's pause of admiration
impressed by the whole — will be the horns and
the beard. All the associations which they will
immediately connect with them will be those of
a he-goat and a cuckold." Never did man guess
more luckily. Had he inherited a portion of the
great legislator's proplietic powers, whose statue
we had been contemplating, he could scarcely
have uttered words more coincident with the re-
sult ; for, even as lie had said, so it came to
pass. — Coleridge's Literary Biography.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LINES OA THE LATE HON. lUDIVRY CLAY.
BY J. ALFORD.
To him, who calmly for his death prepares.
Come when it will, it comes not unawares I
* * » * * #
Here rests in peace that which is and ever was !
Sage precept useful lessons may impart,
But 'tis example which best guides the heart;
A name to the United States most dear,
Claims from their sons a tributary tear.
His noble feeling, to no sect confined,
Within its sphere encircled all mankind ;
Hence all who know his value, must deplore
The loss sustained — their Clay is now no more.
Each bard tears off the bay-wreath from his head,
And wears the solemn cypress in its stead ;
Emblem of grief unfeigned, of true concern,
Best suited to liis much lamented urn.
For amity, that no cold medium knew,
For generous worth, that scorned a sordid view,
Joined with true pnictised power and studious zeal.
He labored nobly for his country's weal ;
But now he 's sunk on earth's insensate breast,
His heart, and all its social ardors rest.
Then let us deign to shed, who stay behind,
One tear, the tribute of a grateful mind ;
The lc;ist demand his sterling worth can claim,
For leaving to mankind a virtuous ftune.
Yet why should nature's frailty- drop a tear?
'T is surely sin to mourn his envied bier ;
Since HcaTeu decrees that he should hence remove.
To share that bliss which only good men prove.
High stations tumult, but no bliss create,
None think the great unhappy but the great.
FRUITS AKB FLOM'ERS IN FRANCE.
The production of rose-bushes is in France a
positive trade. Their exportation, which com-
menced in 1770, has gone on increasing ever
since. The environs of Paris alone produce a
million of francs' worth. Four million of francs
of flowers of all sorts are sold every year at the
various flower-markets, independently of those
taken by the government for its official festivities.
Paris pays two million a year ibr its strawberries ;
and 1250 acres of the surrounding country are
devoted to their culture. Epernay, near St.
Denis, is now sending every day to England five
hundred francs' worth of asparagus. Harfiim-,
on the coast, furnished a million of francs' worth
of melons, last season, to the city of London
alone. Horticulture is becoming such an im-
portant branch of national industry, that the two
Parisian societies — La Nationate and La Centrale
— exert themselves zealously to bring the o:arden-
er's art to still greater perfection. — Flared Maga-
zine.
« ^-»i »
The proudest motto for the young I
Write it in lines of gold
Upon thy heart, and in thy mind
The stin-ing words enfold :
And in misfortune's dreary hour,
Or fortune's prosperous gale,
'T will h-iTe a holy, cheering power —
"There's no such word as fau,!"
Alice G. Lee.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LETTERS.
BY EDWARD ASUTOX.
Aflection^s caskets, which unfold
The richest treasures of the heart ;
5Iore precious than the purest gold,
Or richest specimens of art.
Remembrancers of days past by,
Of ideal hours of happiness ;
Of loved ones gone — the mild, blue eye.
The rosy cheek and auburn tress.
0 how I love to trace the lines,
Teeming with friendship's offeiinga ;
Bright, sparkUng gems from spirit-mines,
Sweet draughts from never-failing springs.
And in my dark and gloomy hours.
Most cheerful, soothing friends they are ;
Stremng my path with summer flowers,
And gilding night irith many a star.
0 they are bright-winged messeugers,
Commissioned for the shores of time ;
To breathe to us the thought that stirs
To purer love, and wakes a chime
Of sweeter spirit-music. Yea,
The visible impress of the soul
They arc to loved ones far away,
Holding o'er life a glad control.
What wonder, then, I prize them so?
To me a world of joy they seem ;
Imprinted with the radiant glow
Of beauty, from some angel-dream.
And thus I treasure them as gifts,
From kindred spirits, to my o^vn ;
Whose presence, for the moment, lifts
Sle from a beggar to a throne.
BLACK AND WHITE.
Jefferson noted seventeen points of diflerence
between the black and the white man. They
differ in color, in their hah*, and in the shape of
their bodies. The black man has more beard
than the white man. He perspires more pro-
fusely. Theie is a slight difference in the ar-
rangement of the lungs, by which the black has
more exhaling force than the white. The black
man requires less sleep. His love is more ar-
dent, but less imaginative than that of the white
man. His grief is more transient. He reflects
less. His reasoning powers are decidedly mfe-
rior. His memory is equal to the white man's,
but not his imagination, which is dull in the ex-
treme. The black lias less originality. He has
no turn for the arts of painting and sculpture.
He has as good an car for music as the white
man, but no skill in composing. And, lastly, the
black has no poetical tendencies. — National Age.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ODE TO A3IERICA.
Read be/ore the National ^hcsical Festival, at Washington.
Br CHAELES HENRT STEWAET.
Not in the pomp of pride,
Not in the glare of state ;
My native land, thy birth arose,
A nation strong and great ;
But fearless round thee flashed the light
Of truth and freedom, mid the night !
When crown and crosier swayed.
With steel, the craven ^torld;
And waves of deep Cimmerian shade
Around her confines curled ;
The flower of freedom, from decay,
Here blossomed In eternal day.
Yes, land of the pilgrim throng I
Land of the tyrant's fear 1
Here first was swelled the freeman's seng,
And dropped the freeman's tear.
Soil of the pilgrim's holy band,
My native land 1 my native land !
God of the battle-field !
Hearer of earnest prayer '.
Thou once gav'st Washington, to shield
Our cause from every snare ;
Forever guide oui- ship of state
Through all the adverse tides of fate !
0, keep — though glorious Rome,
And Greece, ahis ! are dead I
Crushed by the bloody wheels of wrong,
That o'er their bosoms sped !
0, keep our nation proud and high,
And span it with a cloudless sky !
A VALUABLE THIXG.
"Which will you do — smile, and make your
household happy, or be crabbed, and make all
those young ones gloomy, and the elder ones
miserable ! The amount of happiness you can
produce is incalculable, if you show a smiling
face, a kind heart, and speak pleasant words.
Wear a pleasant countenance ; let joy beam in
your eyes, and love glow on your forehead.
There is no joy like that which springs from a
kind act or a pleasant deed ; and you will feel it
at night when you rest, at morning when you
rise, and through tlie day wdien about your busi-
ness.— Home Journal.
It is madness to make fortune the mistress of
events, because in herself she is nothing, but is
ruled by prudonce.
72
GLEASON'S PICTORIAT. DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
*?/:^!k
laS
PROCESSION, AND GRAND RECEPTION OF THE HON. DANIEL WEBSTER IN BOSTON.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COIMPANION.
73
DANIEL WEBSTER AT HOaiE.
Late political circumstances have had a ten-
dency to bring out Mr. Webster's personal friends
somewhat warmly in their demonstrations of
feelings for him. The late celebration, which is
so graphically delineated by our artist on this
and the preceding page, was the occasion of
Mr. Webster's return from AVashington, on a
risit to his Massachusetts home. It was truly a
magnificent affiiir, and was got up without re-
gard to party lines at all. The line of the pro-
cession, or escort of welcome, was formed at
Koxbury and Boston junction, on Washington
Street. The procession took up the line of
march, amid the cheers of a large concourse of
people, who liad assembled at that point, and the
tiring of cannon in Roxbury and the Common.
Mr. Webster was seated in an elegant carriage,
drawn by six gray horses, from Seward's stable.
The military escort consisted of a division of
volunteer troops, under command of Maj. Gen.
B. F. Edmands. This division was composed
of twenty-five companies, who made a fine dis-
play, exceeding anything of the kind that has
Then came cavalcades of the citizens of Boston,
Koxbury, Dorchester, Brigliton, Cambridge,
Charlestown, etc.; following in the rear of the
cavalcade was a large number of vehicles of
every class and style. The cavalcade was the
largest ever seen in Boston, and must have in-
cluded more than one thousand horses. As the
procession moved down Washington Street, the
sidewalks, the windows and balconies of the
houses were filled with spectatoi's, the animated
and enthusiastic admirers of the great man
who was honored by the occasion, while there
was not the slightest demonstration of disrespect
toward him, as we could discover, from any
quarter. The cheering was vociferous, and
numberless bouquets of the most beautiful flowers
were thrown by fair hands into Mr. Webster's
carriage, amounting in the aggregate to several
bushels. The scene throughout the entire route
was very imposing and beautiful, from the deco-
rations and the brilliant arrayof ladies to be seen
on either hand, with eyes and features radiant
with the excitement of the occasion. Owing to
tlie extreme heat of the day, the procession
were debarred from witnessing the proud dis-
play. The civic array was less brilliant, but
hardly less impressive. The long line of foot-
men and horsemen told of the deep and heartfelt
admiration of the people for one who stands
peerless among his fellows in all that constitutes
intellectual greatness, and of the gratitude for
the great and enduring services which he has
rendered to tlieir common country. The pro-
cession occupied about thirty-five minutes in pass-
ing any given point. At about a quarter past
six, Mr. Webster reached the platform on the
Common. In front of the platfoi-m the militaiy
were drawn up in line, and paid him a salute,
which he acknowledged witli much satisfaction.
In a few moments the stand was surrounded by
an immense concourse of people. Hon. J. T.
Stevenson then arose, and in a fine and eloquent
address welcomed Mr. Webster to the hearts of
his thousands of friends in Massachusetts ; to
which Mr. Webster, rising amid a perfect tor-
rent of applause, responded in a speech of
exceeding interest, and rich in historical inci-
dent of his own life, and the causes which had
cheer was started which did not cease until he
arrived at the Common, where it assumed the
shape of one loud huzza of applause. The
windows, too, along the whole route were crowd-
ed with the loveliest of Boston fair. A beautiful
wreath, thrown by a lady from the balcony of a
house in Tremont Street, lodged upon Mr.
Webster's head, where he wore it for some dis-
tance. The enthusiasm among the mihtary was
unbounded, and set at defiance all military nile
and discipline. The men for the moment forgot
they were in line, and joined in tlie one universal
shout of welcome to the gallant defender of the
Constitution. At every stoppage whicli the pro-
cession made, it was more than the united force
of a strong body of police, backed up by a dozen
marshals on horseback, could do to keep the
crowd from nishing to the carriage and shaking
hands with Mr. Webster. We saw at one time
at least a dozen hands hold of Mr. Webster's
hand and ann — which was covered nearly to the
elbow — and all shaking with a strength which
showed the depth of the feeling which prompted
the act. At several places along the route, the
HON. DANIEL "WEBSTER S RECEPTION ON BOSTON COMMON.
been witnessed in this city for a long time. We
give the names of the different companies as they
appeared in column : National Lancers, Wash-
ington Artillery, Boston Artillery, Cowdin Pha-
lanx, Columbian Artillery, Roxbury Artillery,
Boston Light Guard, Pulaski Guard, New Eng-
hind Guard, Eusilcers, Boston Light Infantry,
Winthrop Light Guard, Washington Light
Guard, Boston City Guard, Mechanic Riflemen,
Charlestown City Guard, Cambridge City Guard,
Lowell City Guard, Lowell Mechanic Phalanx,
Wamesit Light Guard, Salem City Guard,
Richardson Light Guard, Stoneham Light In-
fantry, Boston Veteran Association. The mili-
tary column was followed by Gen. John S. Tyler
and his aids. Mr. Webster was accompanied by
his son, Fletcher Webster, Esq., and by the Hon.
Franklin Haven, and was escorted by the Inde-
pendent Cadets. Immediately in the rear of
Mr. Webster's barouche, came others, in which
wire the committee of arrangements, Mayor
Seaver and the officers of the City Government,
the delegates to the Baltimore Convention, and
invited guests. The Webster Association, bear-
ing a handsome banner, and marshalled by Tol-
nian Wiliey, Esq., came next, and was followed
by a delegation of the citizens of Cambridge.
moved very slowly, and refreshments were freely
provided at ditferent points by liberal-minded
persons, who dispensed them to the parched and
thirsty individuals in the line wliile they were-
marching, or when a temporary halt was made.
The whole procession was a magnificent display,
and when we take into consideration the extreme
sultriness of the weather, and the voluntary,
spontaneous character of the demonstration, we
can truly say that no other man than Daniel
Webster ever did or could receive such a splen-
did token of regard from the citizens of Boston
and of Massachusetts. The military portion of
the cortege was especially brilliant. Its appear-
ance when in motion was very striking. The
rich uniforms and noble steeds of the cavalry,
the shining bayonets and elegantly varied cos-
tumes of the infantry, the brilliant uniforms of
the superbly mounted general oflicers, whose
mettlesome steeds caracoled and pranced along
tlie streets, formed a beautiful scene ; whilst the
bewitching strains of martial music, from nume-
rous bands, resounded through the stately, high-
walled streets, with a charm that drew willing
listeners t)y thousands, and meeting the zephyrs
as they floated from housetop to housetop, were
wafted softly to the ears of thousands more who
tended to identify him so closely with the great
interests of the country. After the applause had
subsided, there was a rush to personally greet
the great statesman. The carriages were brought
upon the ground, and Mr. Webster and his
friends were escorted by the Lancers to the Re-
vere House, whither a lai'ge crowd accompanied
him, and upon his landing from his carriage,
gave three more of those same cheers " for Dan-
iel Webster." Mr. Webster bowed his ac-
knowledgements and returned his thanks, say-
ing, that the events of that day would be remem-
bered to the latest day of his life. — Along the
whole line of the procession, from Roxbury line
to the Common, tbe streets and side-walks were
one living mass of men and women. On no
public occasion liavc we ever seen such a dense
crowd in our streets. It was an interesting sight
to sit in one of the carriages and gaze upon the
mighty throng, composed of the gray-haired sire
and ardent youth, the merchant, the trader, the
professional man, and the hard-flsted, honest-
hearted, hard-visagod laborer and artisan, and
see them, all with one consent, rending their
lungs to shout "three cheers for Daniel Web-
ster." At the time the venerated foim of the
l)atriot statesman was seen crossing the line, a
carriages were stopped to allow the presentation
of bouquets to Mr. Webster by the hands of some
of our fair daughters. — Miss Frances Keller, a
young lady of tbe Dwight School, presented Mr.
Webster a bouquet in Washington Street. She
was neatly attired in white, and wore upon her
head a beautiful wreath. Mr. Webster received
the gift with evident pleasure, and rising, called
for three cheers for the " handsome young wo-
men," which were given with a hearty good will.
In Common Street, a little daughter of Mr. Otis
Kimball, some three years of age, was carried to
the carriage, and very gracefully handed a beau-
tiful bouquet to Mr. Webster. He received it,
and implanted a kiss upon the lips of the little
one in return. In Tremont, Bedford and Sum-
mer streets, similar scenes were enacted. While
the procession was halting in Tremont Street,
Father Taylor pressed his way to Mr. Webster's
carriage, and greeting him most cordially, said ;
"I hope you may live forever." Mr. Webster
cordially returning tlie greeting, said : " I intend
to live as long as I can, and I hope you and all
other good men will live as long as you can, in
order ttiat I may have your company." Our
space will not allow the mention of some other
incidents whicli occurred on the route.
74
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING I100:M COMPANION.
[Written for OloaHon'n Pictorial.]
THE WOODS.
or josEPu a. dutleb.
Thewoodfil tliowoodsl tUo Jark, gniun woods!
How bwmtn'ul thoy Htiuul I
Waving tliuir lofty baiiiiurH higii,
Tho glory of our land.
Ilomu of tlio foathorod iiiiristrois sweot,
Wlioso aoiigs, at morn and ovon,
Thrill thi-ougli the durk aisles all unscon,
Liko angurs notes from heaven.
Majestic as an army bravo,
They stand in phalanx deep ;
Embattled for the coming storm,
Their sUitely watch thoy kcci).
Tho woods I tho woods ! the noble woods I
In gloomy gmndeur proud,
Thoy lift their towering fronts, and speak
Delianeo to tho cloud.
The woods 1 tho woods ! the solemn woods I
For contemplation made ;
O when tho burning sun is high,
How grateful is their shade !
The dark, green woods I the grand, old woods I
"WTiero sounds the liuntcr's bow ;
And swift as tlica the passing breeze,
Eonncls forth the stately roe ;
The red men from their hills of wind,
All stalwort, fierce and brave.
Encamp ai"ound their council fires.
Or stem the blue lake's wave.
Majestic nature builds her thi*one
Amid the forest tree,
Whose giant sons, in grandeur, list
To the tempest's melody ;
When autumn chants his thrilling dirgo
Over the dying year.
How beautiful the robes ye wear,
How glorious ye appear !
The woods 1 the tall and hving woods !
I love, at evening hour.
To watch the blessed stars shine through,
Like eyes of magic power.
The woods ! the woods I the mighty woods !
The bulwark of our land.
When armed with thunder forth they ride.
At liberty's command ;
Beiiring our starry flag on high,
To many a distant shore ;
Startling old ocean's solitude
With the dread cannon's roar.
The woods I the woods ! the useful woods I
By science taught to rise ;
In many a pleasant home they stand,
A shelter from the skies |
The glory of our homes they are.
The growth of ages past ;
And ever may their stately sons
Still battle mth the blast..
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GEN. WINFIELD SCOTT.
AN INCIDENT IN THE DAYS OF THE CA-
NADIAN REBELLION.
BY GEO. S. RAYMOND.
The long pent-up fires of Canadian discon-
tent had at length, burst forth throughout the
whole extent of the two provinces, from Quebec
to Penet^ngoshene, in many acts of open rebel-
lion, which threatened ere long to grow into a
popular and successful revolution. Tliirty thou-
sand American sympatliizcrs, possessing as a
general thing as little character as true courage,
and less capital than either, responded to the
call of McKenzie, Papineau, and other equally
patnotic Canadian demagogues, and were rally-
ing their forces at various points along the
whole American frontier, preparing, in defiance
of all law, Iiuman or divine, to invade Canada,
cnish the galling yoke of Britain from off her
enslaved colonists, revolutionize British Amer-
ica, and establish a model republic, under whicli
every American liberator was to liold an office
of trust and profit.
Commissions of general, commodores, col-
onels, and army and navy captains, were as
plenty and common among the vagabond cru-
saders in Western New York, Ohio and Michi-
gan, as were the floods of .worthless "wild cat"
bank notes of the same period in the latter State.
I had taken a very active interest in the brig-
and crusade, and the " Canadian Congress,"
assembled in an obscure cellar in Cleveland,
Ohio, had rewarded my zeal by making me a
captain in the Canadian navy, with the present
command of a little fore and aft schooner, and
that of a first class liue-of-bat tie -ship in pro-
spective.
It was late in the season when I was despatch-
ed to Buffalo with my vessel, for the purpose of
taking in six old brass six poimders, which were
to constitute the schooner's battery when the
war was fairly begun, and a considerable quan-
tity of ammunition^ together with three liundred
muskets, dragoon's cutlasses, and pistols, ad in-
Jlnituin, wliich were to be used by the patriot
army in the west to commence the war with.
By the exercise of some little tact on my part,
and a com!)ination of lucky circumstances on
the part of Providence, I succeeded in accom-
plishing my mission so far as to get tlic arms
and munitions of war on hoard, and escaping
from tlic harlior of Bullalo in a snow-storm,
while the Imlf dozen United States marshals
were overhauling a harmless Canadian schooner
to which I had directed their attention for my
own benefit.
My instructions were to touch at Cleveland
for the purpose of taking in a quantity of arms
which had been collected there, and then to stop
at Huron, where I would be met by General
McLcod, of the patriot army, who would give
me definite instructions as to my final destina-
tion.
I got into Cleveland without any trouble, and
out again, by carrying off two deputy marshals
who came down to search the scliooner, and
landing them on the lake shore in the woods,
some ten miles to the westward of the harbor.
My six " sixes " were buried undci- tlic ballast
alongside the keelson, the powder stowed in
flour barrels bored full of holes, and oysters all
around the kegs, while the balls were packed in
real red lead casks, and the muskets, pistols and
swords, in long boxes, with plenty of hay, show-
ing through the joints, all marked : " Bedsteads."
So that I had little fear of being caught in Hu-
ron, particularly as the people there, to a man,
and to a woman too, I think, were favorable to
the piratical revolutionary movement.
It was very nearly dark, on a cold, boisterous
evening in December, when I arrived at Huron ;
and as the crew were all out on the long wooden
pier which forms the western side of the harbor,
beat on to a tow-line " tracking " the schooner
up towards the wharves, I saw a tall, military-
looking man come along down the pier, point
towards the vessel when he came near the men,
and after making, as I judged, some hiu'ried in-
quiries of them about her, he came towards me,
and the moment he stopped opposite where I
was standing at the helm, I recognized him past
all doubt, as Gen. McLeod, the commander-in-
chief of the patriot army in the west. I had
never seen the general, but he had been described
to me so very minutely that I could not be mis-
taken in him ; besides, the moment he stopped,
he passed a word which served as the " grand
hailing sign " among the " hunters," a secret
organization, of which nearly every vagabond
was a member, so that there could be no mis-
take in the matter — the man was no other than
the veritable General McLeod himself.
" Good evening, captain," he said, as soon as
I had rejilicd to the hail : " What luck, captain V
" Good ! All right, general. But come aboard,
sir;" and I gave the schooner a sheer in along-
side the pier, so that he could step on deck.
A moment later, and he stood there beside me
at tlie helm, a real Hercules in statm'C, enveloped
in a stout gray overcoat, with a fur cap turned
down about his ears, while I gazed for a few
seconds in mute admiration upon the stalwort
form of one of the "Iron Duke's" favorite vet-
erans of the peninsula and Waterloo. The gen-
eral gave me the regular " hunter's grip," and
then asked again ;
" Well, captain, what success ?"
"Beautiful, sir," I answered. "Got 'em all
right down there, fooled Uncle Sam's officers
in Buffalo, gave two more of 'em a free passage
for nine miles out of Cleveland, and set tliera
ashore in the woods ; and here I am, general, all
square by the lifts and braces, ready to fool
' Old Lundy's Lane,' General John E. Wool,
and all the other cpaulctted ' preventives ' that I
expect will be here in Huron before I get away."
" Good !" exclaimed the general, laughing
heartily, " very good, captain. There's nothing
like confidence in helping one out a tight place.
But you say that you have got everything safe?"
" Ay, general ; so nicely stowed awiiy, that
even the Argus-eyed Scott himself might ran-
sack the schooner for a whole day and fail to
discover anything wrong. Got the cannon bur-
ied under the ballast, the powder stowed in oys-
ters, bullets in red lead barrels, and tho small
arms packed in furniture boxes; so you see
we're all safe, general."
" Yes, it would seem so; but look out that
'Old Lundy's Lane,' as you call him, don't get
at your secret. He's in town, I believe, and
there's the Steamer Constitution laying up there,
from which lie lias, this vci-y afternoon, taken a
large quantity of arms and ammunition ; so look
out for him."
" I will, general ; and if the old seven foot
hero of Ciiippewa gets to wnid'iird of mc, I'll
ship second mate of a lime-kiln, and use my
commission, as captain in the Canadian navy, to
liglit tho fire with."
"Bravo, captain ! That's the right .sort of
spirit. But come up and see mc as soon as you
get fast. Come and take supper with me. I'm
incog, you know, tliis evening — stojiping at Jen-
kins's Ohio Hotel — come up, will you?" and tlie
moment I answered "yes," the general leaped
ashore, and went off' with a true militaiy stride
along up the wharf towards the big hotel.
As I entered the hotel, half an hour later, I
was shown into the dining-room, where the com-
pany were already seated at supper ; and there, at
the head of the table, sat the head of the patriot
array, in a suit of plain clothes, while ranged
along down on either hand were several officers
of the United States army, and one of them — a
stout, hard-featured man, in a brilliant uniform —
I set dovm at once as Major General Scott.
General McLeod smiled, and nodded famil-
iarly to me as I entered, and the scats near him
being all filled, he pointed with his knife to one
near the foot of the long table, into which I in-
ti-oduced myself without ceremony, and com-
menced playing knife and fork with the others.
I observed during supper, that the officers to-
wards the head of the table eyed the patriot gen-
eral and myself very suspiciously ; but no word
was spoken to either of us, and I had very near-
ly finished my supper in silence, when a doctor,
who was seated next to me, and with whom I
was intimately acquainted, asked me, in a low
tone, what I thought of the general.
" What general V I asked.
" Why, General Scott, of course."
" Well, then, I don't know, doctor, for I have
never seen him ; but one thing I do know, and
that is, if he is half as noble looking an officer as
0U7' commander-in-chief up there at the head of
the table is, the Americans may well be proud
of him as the head of their army."
" Why, what in the name of nonsense, do you
mean, captain 1"
"Just this, doctor — that General Donald Mc-
Leod there, at the head of the table, looks more
like a hero than forty General Scotts,"
" Captain, are you drunk or crazy ? Why,
man, that is General Winfidd Scott Jurnself."
Down went my up-raised tea-cup with a clash
that shivered it to atoms on the table, at this
startling announcement; and leaping to my feet,
I darted from the room, through the hall, out
into the street, and away down towards the
wharf like a locomotive, determined to get the
schooner underweigh, and be off — somewhere, I
didn't care where much, so that I escaped from
" Old Lundy's Lane."
But I was too late, for I found the vessel in
possession of some fifty United States soldiers,
who were all working away like beavers, dis-
charging my contraband cargo of patriot arms
and ammunition.
I wandered about the streets for about an
hour, feeling myself as completely sold as ever a
man was, and so thoroughly ashamed of myself,
that I didn't want to go where any one could
see my face ; till I was finally picked up by a
lieutenant, who informed mc that General Scott
wished to see me at the hotel.
I went like a dog going to be hung ; and being
ushered into the presence of the hero of Chip-
pewa, General Wool, and about a dozen other
United States officers, I received, in the first
place, a groat deal of good advice from General
Scott, and then a most pressing invitation to
join the party in an oyster-supper prepared
from tiic bivalves which, only an hour previous-
ly, had served as overcoats to our patriot powder.
I remained, and before the party broke up, 1 had
made a public and most positive declaration,
that if I ever engaged in another piratical expe-
dition, it should be in some country where Major
General Win field Scott would not be likely to
interfere with my sailing orders.
A ship on the broad, boisterous and open
ocean, needeth no pilot. But it dare not venture
alone on the placid bosom of a little river, lest it
be wrecked by some hidden rock. Thus it is
with life. 'Tis not in our open, exposed deeds
that we need the still voice of the silent monitor,
but in the small, secret, every-day acts of life,
that conscience warns us to beware of the hidden
shoals of what we deem too common to be dan-
gerous.
Immodest words admit of no defence,
I'or want of decency is ivant of sonse.
liosco7nnwi
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DEATH AT SUNSET.
BY LBLIA MORTIMKA.
Open the cMcment wide, and let
The sunset ^lory in ; tho brerith
Of flowei-s, with eve's first tciir-drops wet,
Tluit bloom without this room of death,
Slmll tremble on tho pilcat iiir,
And mingle with the golden beamn
That linger on liis forehead fair,
Filling his soul with heavenly dreams.
'Tis Boating in, the radiant light.
From yonder mountain's towering brow ;
Wfierc, mth tlie giithering slmUca of night,
Are blending dyes of roseate glow.
" The garden of the sky " how fair,
Each cloudlet tipped with fringe of gold j
And stars of beauty nestle there,
Beneath each gorgeous crimson fold.
Tis creeping up, the odorous balm,
That blossoms fling upon the air ;
As to their slumbers, deep and calra,
They sink, lulled by tho breath of prayer.
Tiie d.irk hair waves beneath the touch
Of spirit fingers, while the brow
Grows beautiful as angels are.
With eeraph impress on it now.
Slowly the purple shadows creep
Across the broad earth's quiet breast ;
So sinks he to his slumber^ deep,
So goes he to his heavenly rest.
A holy smile is on his face,
Afl spirit^arms around him wait,
To fold him in their warm embrace,
And bear him through the golden gate.
One ray of glory lingers still,
To play upon his death-chilled brow ;
The silent room with light to fill,
As upward soars the freed soul now.
'Tis pastl put back the heavy hair,
And press one kiss upon the cheek
So cold and chili, and yet so fair —
Then strength at Heaven's own altar seek.
A LITTLE carpet-bag.
Among the most common of street sights is
that of a gentleman huiTying along towards rail-
way or river, bearing with him a little carpet-bag.
So common is it that it fails to attract the slight-
est attention. A little carpet-bag is no more
noted than an umbrella or a walking-stick in a
man's hand ; and yet, when rightly viewed, it is,
to our thinking, an ohjectof no ordinaiy interest.
We feel no envy for the man on whom has de-
volved the charge of a heap of luggage. The
anxiety attending such property outweighs the
pleasure of its possession. But a man with a
little carpet-bag is one in ten thousand. He is,
perhaps, the most perfect type of independence
extant. He can snap his fingers in the face of
Highland porter extortionate. No trotting ur-
chin is idle enough to solicit the carrying of so
slight a burden. While other passengers, by-
coach or railway, are looking after then- trunks
and trappings, he enters, and has the best seat.
He and bis "little all" never part company.
On arriving at their destination, they are otf with
the jaunty sAvagger of unencumbered bachelor-
hood. In contemplating a gentleman with a
carpet-bag, we are struck, to a certain extent,
with an idea of disproportion ; but the balance is
all on the easy side. There is far too little to
constitute a burden, and yet there is enough to
indicate wants attended to, and comforts sup-
plied. No man with a little carpet-bag in hand
has his last shirt on his back. Neither is it pro-
bable that his beard can suflfer from slovenly
overgrowth. When he retires to rest at night,
the presumption is, that it will he in the midst of
comfortable and cosey night gear. A little cai-pet-
bag is almost always indicative of a short and
pleasurable excursion. No painful ideas of
stormy seas or dreadful accidents on far-off rail-
way lines are suggested by it. Distance is some-
times poetically measured by a "small bird's
flutter," or " two smokes of a pipe," or some
such shadowy, though not altogether indefinite
phrase. Why may not time, in like manner, he
measured by two shirts 1 A gentleman with a
little carpet-bag may be said to contemplate
about a couple of shii'ts' absence from home. —
Glasgow Citizen.
A BEAUTIFUL FIGURE.
Life is like a fountain fed by a thousand
streams that perish if one be dried. It is a silver
chord twisted with a thousand strings, that part
asunder if one he broken. Thoughtless mortals
are surroimded by innumerable dangers, which
make it much more strange that they escape so
long, than that they almost all perish suddenly
at last. AVe are encompassed with accidents every
day to crush the decaying tenements wc inhabit.
The seeds of disease are planted in our con-
stitutions by nature. The earth and atmosphere
whence we draw tbo breath of life, are impreg-
nated with dealJi ; bcaltii is made to operate its
own destruction. The food that nourishes con-
tains the elements of decay; the soul that ani-
mates it by vivifying first, tends to wear it out
by its own action ; death lurks in ambush along
the paths. Notwithstanding this truth is so
palpably confirmed by the daily example be-
fore our eyes, how little do we lay it at heai t !
We sec our friends and neighbors die, but how
seldom doe? it occur to our thoughts that our
knell may give the next warning to the world ! —
Greenwood.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING EOOM COMPANION.
75
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
THERE IS A GOD ABOVE.
BT BAMUEL BaRi'HAM.
There is a God aboTO !
Our souls \Yithin us t«U us so ;
The winds from heaven as they blow,
Bear us this truth on their swift wings,
And bid us hope for brighter things.
All nature, everything doth show
This holy fact in weal or woe,
There is a God above.
There is a God above I
He caies for all our grief and pain ;
He makes each loss to us a gain,
And gives relief to those who weep
O'er lovely friends in death's cold sleep ;
Who, when life's lamp did feebly wane,
Joyous, could utter still again,
" There is a God above."
There is a God above !
Then whj- should foolish fear e'er dart
Its quivering arrows through the heart?
Above earth's sorrows we should rise.
And long for home in paradise ;
Guided safe there by God's o^vn chart,
And when once there, no more we part —
There is a God above.
There is a God above I
Then let us lean on his right hand ;
Under his banner let us stand ;
And while earth's honors fade away,
And mortals fall again to clay ;
Living, obey his high command,
And dying, join that happy band,
Wliere there 's a God above.
[Written for Gleason's Pict-orial.]
THE VICTIM OF TEMPTATION.
BT MRS. E. WELLMONT.
Jack Wateks was the sixth son of a respect-
able farmer. Of course they could not all stay
at home and till the land, and as Jack was rather
an uncomfortable, loaferish sort of a fellQW, the
wish he expressed to try his fortune in a city
was not fro^vned upon by his parents. They
gave him a comely outfit from the village store,
his married sister presented him with two white
linen handkerchiefs, a jack-knife, and a little
work called Daily Food ; and in the bottom of
his trunk there lay a Bible, and Jack could easily
tell who put that there, after his mother's last
admonition and his father's particular advice
" to beware of temptations."
Our young man found his way to the great
city, took lodgings at a second class hotel, and
proceeded to different sections of the place in
quest of employment. It was no easy matter
to find a situation, and a week elapsed before
any otfer could be found, and this was a small
salary barely sutficicnt to board and clothe him-
self with economy. In the beginning, however.
Jack did well ; was faithful to his employers,
regular in his habits ; went to chiu'ch every
Sunday, wrote a weekly account of his success,
and sent it to his friends in the countiy, and on
the whole, promised pretty fairly.
But there were undermining infl^uences against
which he ought to have guarded ; and who was
there to shield him from the danger ■? His
landlord only demanded regular payments for
his board, his employer only cared that he was
on the spot betimes and was faithful while he
stayed. But alas, for the evening, when a young
man feels among strangers and the feeling of
homesickness seizes him ! Jack had no female
■ friends for good advisers — no fireside where he
could sit and be told the tempter lurked without,
and as he craved sympathy and must have it, he
accepted what was tendered him in a small way
in the outset by a few reckless companions.
In three months from this time he was a
jovial blackguard. He had learned to smoke
half a dozen cigars a day, and could chew to-
bacco, in his cant phrase, " as well as the tallest
of them." He knew the livery stables in to^^m,
had already run up an account with a tailor,
and had been introduced to a few young ladies.
In six months Jack made overtures to an inno-
cent working girl, who thought it a smart affair
to he engaged to a clerk in the city trade. Jack
was a generous fellow withal, and he would fain
make her some presents, even if he did it at his
master's expense. He commenced the little
purloining acts in a small way ; felt some com-
punctions in the beginning, but was quieted by
the oft quoted expression of others, " that if
employers are too niggardly to allow compensa-
tion to meet one's expenses, they must pay for
it another way." So conscience was soon ap-
peased, and Jack "Waters dressed as well, lived
as well, and finally made as many presents as
many others with three times the amount re-
ceivable. But his habits were now more closely
watched by his employer. The cash accounts
would not balance ; somebody had absti'acted.
A trap was set to ascertain the rogue, and Jack
Waters was convicted of theft and petty lar-
ceny.
No bail could be procured ; the case was an
aggravated one ; sundry debts were afloat,
trustee processes thickened ; poor Jack was cast
into prison, and a pang of anguish too late shot
through his heart as he thought of his parents
when they should be informed of his degradation.
That aged couple in the country village, whom
he so lately left imploring upon him Heaven's
blessings, were now mute with sorrow, mourn-
ing over the prodigal son with an intensity which
can never be depicted. But they would keep it
a profound secret; the world in which they
lived would never know the sad declension ; and
having served out the sentence which justice de-
manded they would receive him with open arms,
and, nestled in their quiet nook, he might once
more become a pure minded and virtuous youth.
Such reasoning, although it sometimes sub-
dued their violent grief, was not a supporting
solace ; for Jack gave evidence of a depraved
will, which his downward steps to ruin liad man-
ifested most openly. He was encouraged in
this mad career by reckless associates, who still
insinuated their pestiferous designs to keep him
a captive. The poor girl upon whose affections
he had inilicted such a deadly breach of confi-
dence, was dying in a slow consumption, her
shattered vestiges of love still clinging to the
unworthy object.
And all the world who- knew this young man
knew his history, yet nobody spoke of him to
those who suffered so keenly for the loss of a son.
But did they heed the warning, and beware of
exposing their children to similar temptations 1
0, no ; they imagined their sons were better able
to withstand the temptations of a city life.
Be not too certain, fond parents, that you can
thus withdraw your responsibilities, for I fear
this young man is not a solitary instance of de-
parture from rectitude, only he was a doomed
subject, and the guilt he thus incurred so stig-
matized his character that he has sought a home
among strangers, where he is endeavoring to re-
trace liis steps and erase his self-condemnation.
We saw a friend who a few weeks since met
Jack in the California mines. He had heaped
together a small pile, and at the sight of an in-
dividual from his own country he ran towards
him and firmly grasping his hand inquired,
" What news from home V Alas for poor Jack !
In a week after he received the intelligence of
the death of his mother. It was sad tidings to
the prodigal but now repentant son. He kissed
her miniature, and then drawing forth a locket
containing a lock of Angeline's hair, to whom
he had pledged his affections, with a deep sigh
he added, " Two for whom I would have toiled
until these arms should become paralyzed, now
sleep in death, and would to God my vices had
not hiu'ried their departm-e."
The big tear stood in his eye — the gold looked
to him like a worthless heap now ; he dared not
die, and he cared not to live. But the strength-
ening angel of hope has since rc-lightcd his
heart, and he trusts by days of coming peni-
tence to wipe out the record of his past mis-
deeds. And is it not beautifully written some-
where, tliat the two angels who have charge of
the books of life bear instant record of the good
deeds we perform, while lie who notes our mis-
deeds, kindly waits, ere he registers them, until
the sun goes down, and then if no sigh of con-
trition is heard, he tremblingly writes the record,
thus showing to us how paramount to the angel
of Justice is that of Mercy ?
Well then is it for us to withhold our judg-
ment upon erring humanity, since our finite
scope can but imperfectly understand all the
links in the chain of circumstances which drove
the victim of temptation into forbidden patlis.
We should rather guard the purity of our own
nature than sit in judgment on a fallen brother.
Solon enacted that children who did not main-
tain their parents in old age, when in waiit,
should be branded with infamy, and lose the
privilege of citizens ; he, however, excepted
from this rule those children whom their parents
had taught no trade, nor provided with other
means of procuring a livelihood.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
MY ILiKRY, O :
BT ROBERT G. STAPLES.
When first I met him lang ago,
The skies were bright and beaming, 0 ;
The flow'rs sae gay, the birdies sang,
And my wild heart beat cheer'ly, O.
His brow sae high, his locks sae jet.
I ken I lo'ed him dearly, 0 ;
My heart had gane, 'twas all Ms own.
E'en 'fore he ask'd me for it, 0 I
Had I been rich, o' high degree,
I 'd gin it a' for Harry, 0 ;
Sae dear he was, so true and kine,
I 'd gin my life for Harry, 0.
Then, ladie, hear my tale o' woe,
My Hai-ry gang away, away ;
I ne'er more now will see his face,
And nae more be sae blithe and gay.
I lo'ed my true love, firm and true.
But 0 his brow sac pale is now ;
The cold airth lay upon his breast,
He 's dead, and gane for aye, I trow.
Then ladie hear me, and ne'er lay
Your flutt^irin' heart at Cupid's feet ;
Eut keep it free from ev'ry smart,
From ev'ry knight, sae blithe ye meet.
BIARRIED lilFE.
Julius Moser gives the following counsel from
a wife and mother : " I try to make myself and
all around me agreeable. It will not do to
leave a man to himself till he comes to you, to
take no pains to attract him, or to appear before
him with a long face. It is not so difficult as you
think, dear child, to behave to a husband so that
he shall remain forever in some measure a hus-
band. I am an old woman, but you can still do
what you like ; a word from you at the right
time will not fail of its effect; what need have
you to play the suffering virtue 'i The tear of a
loving girl, says an old book, is like a dew-drop
on a rose ; but that on the cheek of a wife is a
drop of poison to her husband. Try to appear
cheerful and contented, and your husband will
be so ; and wlien you have made him happy,
you will become so, not in appearance but in re-
ality. The skill required is not so gx'cat. Noth-
ing flatters a man so much as the happiness of
his wife ; he is always proud of himself as the
somxe of it. As soon as yon are cheerful you
' will be lively and alert, and every moment will
afford you an opportunity to let fall an agree-
able word. Your education, which gives you an
immense advantage, will greatly assist you ;
and your sensibility will become the noblest gift
that "nature has bestowed on you, when it shows
itself in affectionate assiduity, and stamps on
every action a soft, kind, and tender character,
instead of wasting itself in secret repinings."
Weep not that the world changes— did it keep
A stable, changeless course, 't were cause to weep.
Bnjaiit.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
PRESUMPTION.
BT WILLIAM T. HILSEE.
I sprang from a moss-covered nook in the mountain.
The birds hailed my birth with greetings of joy ;
Thus flattered I proud grew, unaware that a fountain
Such as I, need the showers' distillations employ ;
I ranged the green meadows and plunged through dark
valleys,
I shouted and danced in the height of my glee ;
On sweet flowers I lavished profusely my dallies,
And thought that their growth was dependent on me.
As onward I journeyed I espied a fair maiden,
With water-pot, kneeling to draw a cool draught ;
With sparkling refreshment she drew it weU laden.
While I, from a sense of my bounteousness, laughed.
I thought that to me she should credit her blessing.
Forgetful that I was dependent as her ;
But the moi-al it taught me is well worth possessing,
For true worth all others to self will prefer.
CHILDHOOD.
A few years more and you will not know the
same child — the age of play is not over, but
hard taskmasters have broken into it. There is
a morrow to be thought of which interferes with
to-day. Consciousness has come, and the terri-
ble burden of a kind of responsibility. There
is the expression of the wish to please — or, alas !
of the fear to displease. The features have
come forth into some drawing — for the child is
a graduate of this weary world, and the face has
lengthened accordingly. But this age is beauti-
ful, like every other, if expression and feature
be tiiie to it. The expression may be wistful
and plaintive with timidity or tender health, and
it is called fretful — or it may be careless and
tom-boy with sheer animal spirits, and it is
called vulgar; but either is safe. It is the pre-
cocious look of cunning, or peevishness, or
primness, we turn from with intuitive dislike,
for such arc old signs. The featm-cs, also, may
be common and characterless, but if they are
soft and uncertain, and the spaces around tliem
ample, they are safe as well. But the defined
forms and the scant}' quantities let us beware of
— though fond mothers call them " chiselled
features " and " regular profiles;" what is ad-
mired as delicate and precise now may be too
likely to turn out sharp and mean by-and-by. —
London Quarter!// Review.
DULLNESS AND STAGNATION.
If Londoners were as suicidal a race as French
writers describe them, the mortality of the me-
tropolis would be at least 100 per cent, above the
average for the present week. Every lamp post
would have its pendant, the chymists' shops
would be besieged for the last new poison, the
landing places on the Thames would have to be
occupied by policemen, and watei'men would be
incessantly plying irnder the bridges to pick up
fares from the parapets above. Never was there
such a stagnation and obstruction, and such an.
impossibility of telling what's what, or who's
who. Day after day we have been wading
through the streets, and breathing air and water.
The sun has not been seen to our knowledge
more than once or twice the whole of this Jime,
and people are resuming their fires, in order to
create an artificial midsummer in the absence of
a natural one. But this is by no means the
worst dullness, and deadness, and coldness, and
wetness, we are suffering at this trying season.
Unfortunately, the political harmonizes with the
natural atmosphere, and just now Scotch mist
and Bffiotian fog beset the whole region of opin-
ion. The debates in parliament are dull ; our
great men are dull ; candidates are dull ; public
meetings are dull; conversation is dull; our li-
braries are dull ; everybody is dull, and every-
thing is dull. It is true there are men going
about, trying to create a new interest, or discov-
er a sentiment which is not yet thoroughly used
up, but five minutes' success is all that they can
achieve with the most susceptible natm-es. It is
working against the stream, or rather against
dead water.
Poor Feargus O'Connor went to America to
escape dullness, and finding it as bad there, came
back again, and has now been committed to cus-
tody for poking the ribs of the country gentle-
men. The subjects of the experiment spring up
in " considerable agitation," but immediately
relapse into politeness and verbosity. The only
sign of life and interest is one which Byron said
and felt was that which proved all other interests
gone. Gold now reigns supreme. IN'aturc is
revealing her bm-ied wealth, and the human heart
throbs in response. The only crowd to be seen
in London is in the once quiet region of Park
street, Westminster, where hundreds are waiting
for their passports to the Austi'alian El Dorado.
— London Times.
Even little things have their peculiar grace.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO MRS. AUGUSTA EATON.
BT CAROLLNE A. HATDEN.
I have watched thee when the bright, glad smile
Was sparkling in thine eye j
And have listened to the joyous notes
Of thy song's sweet melody.
I knew that nature's lavish hand
Had made thee wondrous fair ;
Yet saw that brighter than all else,
The mind's rich gem shone there.
0, lady, cherish well the gift,
For time all else will steal ;
And youth and beauty shrink beneath
The pressure of his seal.
'T will help thee banish from thy side
The shadowy form of care ;
And midst thy bright attainmente shine,
The purest, holiest there.
Then sing thy gay and joyous songs.
While youth's sweet hours arc thine ;
But cherish well the mind's rich gem,
To brighten life's decline.
A CAPE BALL-ROOM.
Until I went to a ball at the Cape, I never
knew what thorough enjoyment of dancing was.
The Africaners, blessings on their simple souls,
don't walk through a quadrille, or glide through
a polka: but ihey pound away Avith feet and
arms, and the " orient humor " oozing from each
pore of face, and hands, and neck, bears
witness to the energy of their movements. And
then the supper ! Your partner does not take a
little piece of trifle, or a cream, or a tart, and
sip a thimble-spoonful of negus, but she demol-
ishes all the chicken and ham you give her, and
drinks every drop of the three bumpers of cham-
pagne you pour out for her, and looks all the
happier for both. As for yourself, yoii attack
everything you can lay hands on ; and, after the
ladies have retired, you find yourself actually
indulging in that highly dangerous and deleteri-
ous practice of " hnrrahing" in response to the
toast of the " Ladies " which that fat man in a
red face and a white waistcoat, with an uncom-
fortable tendency to work its way up to his chin,
has just proposed. You find, too, that you
come down again to that same supper-room
after the fair ones have begim to depart for their
homes ; you find that you prefer brandy and
water to the doubtful champagne and suspicious
claret ; you find that you have a cigar in your
pocket, and you smoke it ; you find that you can
sing capitally — in a chorus ; and lastly, if you
do find your "way liome, you are a lucky fellow.
— Five Years' Residence in South Africa.
Gold! goldl gold!
Ppumed by the youKg, but hugged by the old,
E'en to the verge of the church-yard mould.
How widely thy agencies vary I
To save, to ruin, to ('ur.=c. to bless,
And even thy minted coins express,
Now stiimpcd with the image of good Queen Bess,
And now with a bloody Mary !— Jfoorf.
76
GLEAS()N\S PKJTORIAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
YClTTr
REMAINS OF HON. HENRY CLAY LYING IN STATE, AT THE CITY HALL, NEW YORK.
Upward of 30,000 persons vipitorl the hall
next day ; in fact there was a complete rush
to obtain a view of the corpse, from daybreak
till midniji^ht. Amon^,' the visiiorn were a
party of tincc to fonr liimdred of the old
vclcriins of 1812 and 1814, who walked in,
arm in arm. The remains were taken on
board of a boat at an curly hour for Albany,
to wliicli place it proceeded without (>topping.
From Albany it proceeded by tlic Central
Road to Buifaio, and thence to Cincinnati
on tbcir way to the final resting-place of the
illustrious statesman. Mr, Chiy had a favor-
ite setter dog, which followed bis master
from hi>i home, in Kentucky, to Washington.
After the death of the lamented patriot, hia
faiiliful canine friend kept close to his body.
On Friday, by some accident, the poor dog
was left behind, chained up at the American
House, in Philadelphia. IJuring tlie night
he was very fretful and uneasy. With the
instinct of Iiis race he sconicd conscious that
the body of bis beloved master bad departed.
We may say it were an idle task to pass
an eulogy on such a man as Henry Clay.
He was an Ametican, and the home of his
heart knew no limits but those which bound
his entire country. In future days the altars
of civil and religious liberty in South Amer-
ica shall glow with increasing brightness,
and their fires shall add new lustre to the
name of him who was the early advocate of
their rights and of the recognition of the in-
dependence of tlie States : so long as the
heroism and poetry of Greece shall be admir-
ed, so long shall the name of Clay be cher-
ished by every heart
that pants for liber-
ty. For a period of
more than half a
century has he been
identified with all
the leading political
interests of the
country ; and his
vigorous and pow-
erful mind has Icfc
an impress which
will go to establish
the character of this
portion of our na-
tion's history, and
leave on the records
of time an enduring
monument to the
greatness and woilh
of one of the noblest
of her sons.
Wm
Our readers will doubtless feel interested in a
brief record of tlie movements of the funeral
cortege of Mr. Clay, towards Kentucky. The
corpse was received with all due honor at Phil-
adelphia on Friday evening, July 2nd, and re-
mained in Declaration Hall over night. On
Saturday morning, July 3d, the plate covering
the face of the revered dead, which had been re-
moved to allow the citizens of Philadelphia to
gaze upon his features, was replaced, and the
coffin conveyed to the funeral car standing oppo-
site to the main entrance on Chestnut Street.
The Washington Grays, having acted as a guard
of honor, now escorted the remains to the boat
at Walnut Street wharf. The city council fol-
lowed on foot, and the committee of senators
and a delegation of Kentuckians in carriages.
Minute guns were fired, and bells tolled during
the march of the procession, which started at 9
o'clock precisely. The remains w^ere taken on
board the Steamer Trenton for New York, in
the presence of an immense concourse of citi-
zens. The boat was elegantly decorated with
mourning, and her flags were at half-mast. She
left, tolling her bell, which was answered by all
the boats on the river as she passed. At Taco-
ny, the committee of councils delivered the
corpse into the custody of the officers and com-
mittee of Congi'ess, charged with the duty of
conveying it to Ashland. A large number of
Philadelphians accompanied the remains to Ta-
cony. The remains reached Trenton, N. J.,
shortly after 10 o'clock. Their arrival was an-
nounced by the firing of minute guns by a com-
pany of military, and an immense concourse,
which had collected, uncovered as the train ap-
proached. The church bells were also tolled,
and all the buildings in the vicinity of the depot
were appropriately draped. At Princeton there
was a very general suspension of business, and
over the railroad an immense arch was erected,
and draped in mourning, with mottoes expressive
of the general grief at the nation's loss. Tlie
places of business and dwellings in the vicinity
were also in mourning. Similar demonstrations
of sympathy and respect were exhibited at New
Brunswick, EUzabethtown and Railway, and, in-
deed, at all the places along the route of the
procession. At the arrival of the ears at Jersey
City, minute guns were fired, and the bells were
tolled. The procession was formed in the depot,
and marched to the boat. The Jersey City Con-
tinentals, as a guard of honor, and the officers
of the Hudson Brigade, accompanied by a band
of music, escor!.ed the procession of the various
committees to the boat. As they moved through
the streets, the heads of the entire mass of spec-
tators were uncovered, and not a voice disturbed
the effect of the measured tramp of the feet, the
deep, sad music of the funeral march, or the
more distant tolling bells and booming cannon.
As soon as all were on board the ferry-boat
I'hiladelphiu, she moved off into the stream, and
on her way to the JJattery, her bell tolling, as
were also bells of other boats in the East River
and on the churches of the cities. Minute guns
were being fired from the Battery, Governor's
I.'^land, Jersey City, Brooklyn Heights and Wil-
liamsburgh, and from one or two government
vessels in the stream. As the boat approached
Castle Garden, New Y'ork, the Battery and all
the adjacent piers and vessels presented the spec-
tacle of a host of mourners, who, having honored
him in life, grieved for him in his death. The
remains were removed from the boat by members
of the Clay Festival Association. The coffin
was placed in an open hearse, drawn by eight
gray horses, appropriately caparisoned with black
plumcSj etc. The coffin was exposed to view ;
THE METALLIC COFFIN.
it was shrouded in crape, and crowned with a
wreath of evergreen. The coffin was one of
Fisk's much improved patent metallic burial
cases. It was an elegant affair, measuring six
feet three inches. The interior was beautifully
cushioned with white satin. Upon the outside
an ample covering of the finest black broadcloth
was thrown, galhercd in a festoon at the breast-
plate, and falling on either side like a heavy cloth
cloak, where rich silk fringe gracefully gathered
it in folds ; there were also on each side twelve
tas.iels of similar material, and three handles of
solid silver, beautifully wrought. The whole
cose was surmounted by three massive silver
plates, of different design; that resting over the
face — underneath which was an oval-shaped
plate of glass — containing an oak leaf and acorn,
surrounded by a laurel-wreath ; the inscription
plate, plain and smooth in the centre, bad an
elaborate moulding around it, into which was
sunk the impressive oak leaf and acorn — the
acorn fallen out of its shell, and the leaf with-
ered ; the foot plate represented a large rose in
full bloom, just parted from the stem whence it
had been gnawed by a caterpillar. The case
was enclosed in a highly polished mahogany
box, lined with silk velvet, and having three
handles of brass on each side, projecting from
sunken sockets. Altogether, the case was every
way desirable as regards beautiful workmanship
and appropriate design ; no cost had been spared
upon its construction. The procession was then
formed : the police, with their staves of office
muffled in crape, the mayor and council, whig
general committee, wd^ig young men's general
committee, the Jersey City Continentals, with
their flag and arms in crape, preceding the
funeral car and the body, the Washington Grays,
as a guard of honor, in single file each side of
the hearse. The procession moved in silence
and sadness up Broadway, while Trinity's
chimes and the bells of all the churches were
tolling a requiem. Broadway .ind the Park had
been thronged from 1 o'clock with an immense
crowd, whose patience bad not even yet worn
out, although it was nearly 5 o'clock. The
doors and windows were filled all along the line,
and respectful and sorrowful silence prevailed
everywhere. The procession passed up Broad-
way'and Park Row to the east gate of the Park,
and the body was de])ositcd in the Governor's
Room, at the City Hall, and left in care of the
Washington Grays, who formed the guard of
honor. The columns in front of the City Hall
were wreathed with black and white crape ; also
festoons were suspended from window to win-
dow, the balconies were covered with rosettes
and wreatlis, the flags at half-mast, and stream-
ers of black flying from the tops of the staves.
The (jovcrnor's Room, in which the body was
placed, was appropriately decorated. The por-
traits of the distinguished men that adorn that
apartment were covered with crape. Directly
over the beautiful cenotaph upon v/hich ihe body
was placed hung a likeness of Henry Clay, with
the following inscription subjoined : " A nation
mourns thy loss." Several stages were hung
with crape. Minute guns were fired by the rev-
enue cutter, the fort on Governor's Island, and
from Jersey City- The bells were tolling all the
time the piocession was in motion. After the
body had entered the City Hall, such was the
desire of the citizens to obtain admission, that a
great crushing ensued, and the police had to use
every exertion to clear the crowd fi'om the en-
trances and prevent difficulty and danger. A
great many people, among whom were several
ladies, waited outside, in expectation of seeing
the body ; but they were doomed to disappoint-
ment, as no person was permitted to enter.
m
PONIARD PRESENTED TO FAUSTIN I.
Above we give a fac-similc of the richly mount-
ed dagger intended as a present for his Imperial
Majesty, Faustin I., of Hayti. It has a heavy
gold handle, surmounted by a crown, richly stud-
ded with diamonds and pearls. On each side of
the handle is richly chased the imperial arms of
Hayti. Below the arms, on one side, are two
small crests of diamonds, a very large sapphire
surrounded by ten rubies; and on a shield, under-
neath the whole, is engraved Faustin First, and
on the other side of the handle, below the arms
is a lai'ge ruby, surrounded by precious stones.
The scabbard is very heavily mounted in gold,
and richly set with precious stones, among which
is a large emerald surrounded by diamonds, a
large sapphire surrounded by rubies, a large ruby
surrounded by smaller stones, and diversified on
each side with diamonds, etc., the point having a
globe emerald, finished by a small gold ball.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
77
■m^^-f^j^fjmy:^^d^
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, EDITOR.
COKTKNTS OF OUR KKXT NU3IKKII.
" Alice Bourne, or the Strength of the Heart,'' a. story,
by Geo. Cakking Hill.
" Etlgar llandolph, or Man's Judgment somcthues erro-
neous," a tale from the pen of Mrs. Caroline Orse.
" Time is Money." a story thus entitled, by Mrs. S. P.
DOOGHTY.
" A Lion for Ten Minutes,"' a humoroua sketch, by the
Old 'Ox.
'■ The Death of Miss Susan Oakes," Unes. by Caroline
A. Hat DEN.
'• De Soto," verses, by Joseph H Butler.
" Lilly Bliss,'" a poem, by C. S. Kysi^r.
'^ Death of the ]lighteou"s," verses, by J. Hust, Jr.
" A Voice from Home," by Hebecca R. Pierce.
■' At Eveninff." verses, by W. E Kxo^ies.
" Tines to Emma,"' by J. Alford.
"The Piist,"' a poem, by Annie Mott.
'■ Tripping down the Lane,'' verses, by S. E. Church.
" My Childhood QourSj" hnes, by De Fletcher Hcnton.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
A very beautiful and truthful view of Pleasant Moun-
tttiw House, at Denmark, Oxford county. Me. A very fine
flummer resort ; by our artist, Mr. Matittins.
Fine Portraits of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Caroline
Duprey, the eminent Parisian vocalists, who have lately
met \\ith auch success in Europe.
A capital view of the Salt U'orka, at Salines and Fort St.
Andre, in France.
A large characteristic view of the Meat Market, at Paris,
France. A fine scene.
Anotlier admirable series, being our second set, of West
Point, N, Y., taken on the spot, by our artist, Mr, Chap-n,
reprascnting, first. West Point Hotel and itoad from the
landing; a most truthful and striking picture. Second, a
fine engraving of Koiciuskos Monument, as sketched for
us upon the spot. A military Scene, repreaenting an En-
campment of Cadets, as they recently appeared at West
Point. Also an illusti-ationof the Cadet's Monument and
Cemetery, one of the delightful retreats in the neighbor-
hood of the Academy. And a fcene representing the Ca-
dets making Fascines, or Baskets of young saplings or
witlies, which, when filled with sand, serve to construct
batteries and breastworks.
A picture representing a singular instinctive artifice of
the Partridge in defence of its young brood.
Also a mate for the above, entitled the Stubble Field
and Partridge Shooting, Both fine pictures.
A very admirable view of Detroit, Michigan, taken from
Sandwich, Canada.
A fine, large engraving of the Equestrian Statue of the
Duke of Wellington, the original of which is by Count de
Orsay.
STRAWBERRY FESTIVALS.
These agreeable entertainments were unusu-
ally numerous this year in all parts of the coun-
try. They were, generally, under the superin-
tendence of ladies, and, in most cases, for char-
itable purposes. The strawberry being our most
delicious fruit, and its season the most delightful
of the year, it would not be surprising if the fes-
tival alluded to should become one of the per-
manent institutions of the country— like the vin-
tage festivals of Europe.
SPLINTERS.
.... The Boston Olive Branch deserves our
thanks for its kind remembrance.
Madame Thillon has met with lier usual
success at Buffalo, N. Y.
The Duke of Wellington is now eighty.
four years of age.
Horace Mann is to be the President of
Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio.
The Swiss Bell Ringers have been for
some time in our Western cities.
At last accounts from Jamaica the small
pox was raging fearfully.
.... The cholera, though considerably abated,
siill lingers in. the Western cities.
Four negroes were killed by lightning at
Lexington, Miss., a few days since.
Marshal Tukey, the energetic chief of
police, for Boston, has been removed.
. . , . Jonathan Edmands, aged 14 years, was
drowned near Nantasket Beach, while bathing.
.... It is now said that Abbott Lawrence will
not resign his office at London.
.... It looks very much as if Hon. Daniel
Webster would be a " candidate " yet.
Don't tell your troubles ; people do not
like to have unfortunate friends.
.... John Loring hung himself in Cincinnati
for some unknown reason.
.... Ke slow to promise, but after you have
done so, keep your word.
He who has provoked tiie shaft of wit,
cannot complain that he smarts from it.
To succeed well in debate, a man should
use soft words and hard arguments.
AaiERICAN PATRIOTISM.
These are not mere words. It is true that
there exists among us many of those antedilu-
vian gentlemen — antediluvian in their convic-
tions, if not in their years, whose eyes are ever
on the past,, aud so, because their backs arc
turned to the present and the future, see none of
their bright visions, and deny the existence of
them. These men tell you that chivalry has
passed away, that valor is extinct, aud patriot-
ism a sentiment ignored by the present genera-
tion. Nothing can be more untrue. Mankind
are constantly, steadily, surely advancing . Some-
times a portion — a small portion — of the vast
multitude halts, or retrogrades ; but the march
of the column is still onward. No one will deny
that, in all things material, the advance is one
of dazzling rapidity. During the present centu-
ry, science and inventive genius have developed
more remarkable resources than the history of
any preceding five himdred years can exhibit.
The employment of steam in land travels, in
navigation, its recent successful application to
ocean passages from continent to continent, the
electric telegraph, the mechanical improvements
for facilitating agricultural operations, these ai-e
trophies and proofs of a generation abounding in
intellectual vigor.
But it has been said that all these improve-
ments and facilities by wiiicli our physical com-
forts are increased, and luxury introduced into
almost every house, tend to produce materialism,
and, at the same time, enervation and effeminacy
in the race. The croaking fraternity, to whom
we have alluded above, fancy that the courage,
like that of Bob Acres in the play, is " oozing
out of our fingers' ends," and since, unfortunate-
ly, in the present state of the world, principle
must be supported by bayonets, .they argue the
most disastrous consequences from the supposed
etteminacy of the race. Unluckily for these dis-
mal theories, facts are against thera ; the mo-
ment danger arrives, the moment the note of de-
fiance is sounded, the American people spring to
arms with one accord. The story of the Mexi-
can war is yet too recent to require more than an
allusion to it as signal proof that the most brilliant
courage and military capacity yet distinguish the
American people. The arduous services, the
brilliant achievements of both rogulai'S and vo-
lunteers on Scott's and Taylor's lines, show that
the present race of men has not a whit degene-
rated from the heroic standard of their fathers ;
aud that though comforts and luxuries are far
more widely diffused than in the past century,
yet, at the call of the country, we can sacrifice
all these comforts and luxuries, and submit to
the severest privations without a murmur.
And how is it with patriotism, the life-blood of
our nation '? Have we indeed become demoral-
ized, disunited, ready to abandon the priceless
heritage that has come down to us ? This ques-
tion has been triumphantly answered by the late
celebration of the Fourth throughout the whole
land. Never before was the glorious anniver-
sary of our nation's birth celebrated with more
heartiness, enthusiasm and joy- Disunited ! We
are more firmly knit together than ever. Physi-
cal and moral bonds render our Union indissolu-
ble, and the one-and-thirty States composing our
confederacy of to-day, are far better acquainted
with each, far more ready to act in unison, than
the old original thirteen at the time of the adop-
tion of the Constitution. Woe to the power that
shall attempt to invade our limits, in the belief
that extension of territory has weakened the
principle of cohesion in which alone lies all our
strength ! Those who believe that American
patriotism is but a name, will rue the hour they
attempt to act upon this conviction. Our patri-
otism still burns with a steady, genial flame, a
light to our firesides, destructive only to our
enemies, and so will it be when the United States
shall have attained, to boriow a humorous ides,
" their natural boundaries — the equator and the
Aurora Borealis."
Fatal Accidents. — During the Webster re-
ception, a member of the Columbian Artillery
Company left the ranks, and died from the effect
of the heat. A man from Roxbury, and another
from Andover, died from the same cause.
Back Numbers. — All the back numbers of
the Pictorial can be supplied from the com-
mencement of the paper, either bound, or in
single numbers.
POLITE OFFICIALS.
"Lady passengers," says Grace Greenwood,
in her first letter from over the sea, "who had
suffered throughout the voyage from a nervous
dread of a stern official ransacking the carpet-
bags, and from the belief that it is through much
tribulation in the way of tumbling trunks and
exposed night-caps that we enter into the king-
dom of Great Britain, were most agreeably dis-
appointed. Trunks were opened, indeed, but
by no means a minute examination made of
their contents." The same lady warmly praises
the kindness of Madame, and the superior mind
of Mr. Goldschmidt. "The ' Scariet Letter,' "
she says, " is a favorite book with that gentle-
man." Of Madame Goldschmidt, she remarks :
" For the first few days of our voyage, she seem-
ed singularly shy and reserved. I have seen
her sit hour after hour by herself, in some unfre-
quented part of the vessel, looking out over the
sea." Grace Greenwood wonders what she
could be thinking of. Probably she was deep in
the consideration of the question, whether her
breakfast would go on quietly doing its appoint-
ed ofiice of nourishing lier physical constitution,
or, whether, etc.
Lola Montez. — This famous danseuse has
sued the editor of the New York Times for libel-
ling her chai-acter. Naughty man !
THE A3IAZON VALLEY.
The exploration of the valley of the Amazon,
says the New York Times, is a work which
travellers and scientific men have frequently un-
dertaken, with varying but always imperfect
success. About a vear since, another expedition
was put on foot, under the auspices of the United
States Govei-nment, the results of which may
prove more important. We are informed that
Lieut. Herndon, U. S. N., to whose guidance
this effort was confided, has succeeded in pene-
trating from the Pacilic to the Atlantic, through
the richest sections of that region, and, at the
last advices, was at Para, on his way homeward.
The information regarding the condition, re-
sources and prospects of the interior of Brazil
which has been gathered in the progress of this
enterprise, must be an interesting and valuable
addition to our geographical knowledge. We
presume the report of Lieut. Herndon will he
published in an official form.
VOLUME SECOND.
We have bound already thousands of Vol. 2d,
and our establishment has presented a busy scene
since the first of July. Hundi-eds are still bring-
ing in then- numbers to be bound, and we are
tm-ning them out in beautiful style, as described,
at a charge of only one dollar. We have got up
a new and beautiful frontispiece and index for
the volume, which alone is a most elegant and
desirable afiair, and one of the most beautiful
engravings ever issued from this establislnnent.
This is bound into those volumes sent in to us
without extra charge. The Pictorial, thus pre-
served in a strong substantial binding, with gilt
back and edges, and illumined sides, forms a rich
ornament for the centre-table. We can supply
any and all numbers of the paper to those who
have lost any, or soiled them too much for bind-
ing. Volume one and volume two are now for
sale at our office.
KOSSUTH.
Kossuth has finally left the shores of America,
and is now on his way to prove to the world
whether he is a real or a mock patriot, a hero or
a mountebank. Nothing in his whole history, as
far as we can see, says a contemporary, favors
the idea that he is a hypocrite or a swindler ;
everything in his life, which has yet been made
public, seems to show that he is true as steel, and
unflinching as the rock in the cause, in behalf of
which he has poured forth a continuous and
dazzling stream of unsurpassed eloquence and
biu'ning thoughts.
Musical. — A musical band has recently been
formed in Norway village. Me., called the "Nor-
way Sax Horn Band." It embraces about
twenty members, who, under the instructions of
an efficient teacher, are making fine progress in
tlieir performances.
Bad — There are fourteen victims of the spirit-
ual rapping mania in the Ulica Asylum. Tliis
is as great an evil as intemperance.
New York Crtstal Palace. — This enter-
prise is going on successfully.
MARRIAGES >X.:i^^,,
"^'^^^^KMDSi
Newport. — This favorite watering place
perfectly thronged.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Miner, Mr. Allen J. Hill to
Mrs. Susan M. Clark.
By Rev. Mr. Cummings, Mr. Thomas E. Gregory, of
Lvun, to >iiss Jane Todd.
"By William Palfrey, Esq., Mr. William H, Mansfield, of
Bangor, Me., to Miss Ann Maclt.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. Oliver L. Roberts to Miss Mer-
tylla A. Jackson,
By Rev. Dr. Neale, Roger B. Lawton, Esq., of Charles-
ton, S. C, to Miss Mary II. Bradford.
At CharlestflWD , by Rev. Mr, Blain, Mr, William Henry
Simonds to Miss 0. E. Cassell,
At Chelsea, by Rev. Mr. Eartlett, Mr. Thomas Tune to
Mis.-* Mary Bigelow.
At Dorchester, by Rev. Mr. Pike, Mr. Ja's W. Richard
son, of Monmouth, Me., to Miss Eliza A. S. Eennette.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Stone, Mr. Webster F. Burnham,
of Danvers, to Miss Angemettc C. Fairbrothers, of Lynn.
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Child, Mr. Daniel K. Winn to
MioS Marindia F. Maloon.
At Nevvburyport, by Kev. Mr. Medberry, Mr. George K.
Pevear, of Lynn, to Miss Lucy II. Chase.
At Worcester, by Rev. Mr". Tillotson, Mr, Edward W.
Green to Miss Henrietta E, Atkin.son.
At Springfield, by Rev, Mr. Bridge. Mr. A. G. Thomas,
of Adams. N. Y., to Miss Nancy Sheldon.
At Portland, Me., by Rev. Mr. Chiekering, Mr. Robert
H. Sherwood, of New York, to Miss Mary Neal.
At Providence, R- 1., by Rev. Dr. Crocker, Mr. Brintnall
Sabin, of rtica, N. Y., to Miss Caroline A. Bradford.
At Philadelphia, by Rev. Mr. Pratt, Mr. Sereno B. Pratt,
of Boston, to Miss Carie E. Hart.
DEATH S§4^^ ^.
In this city, Mrs. Elizabeth Welch, 58 ; Charles R. Cod-
mau, Esq., 67 ; Mrs. Susan Jane Edwards, 23 ; Mr. John
K. Jones, 30 ; Mr. Lewis Ettling, 49 ; Mr. William Ulmer,
38 ; Mr. Joseph Tirge, 72.
At Koxbury, Miss Caroline R. Faxon, of Boston, 30.
At West Roxbury, Mr. Abijah Men-iam, 75.
At Charlestown, Mrs. Sally Rice, 77,
At Somerville, Mr. Gilnian Woodward, 39.
At Milton, Mrs. Clarissa Stearns, of Boston, 68-
At Andover, Dr, Francis Clarke, 38 ; Sajuuel Berry, 91.
At Salem, Mr. Matthew M. Carnes, 62,
At Marhlehead, Miss Deborah Hammond, 87.
At Beverly, Mrs. Augusta Foster, 29.
At Ipswich, Mr. Samuel Appleton, 81,
At UriJgewater, Miss Sarah Henrietta Hooker, 25.
At Newbury, Mr. Samuel Nojcs, 86.
At Duxburv, Miss Sarah Eliz;ibeth Ford, 19.
At Littleton, Miss Lucretia Tuttle, 60.
At Acton, Mrs. Hannah Pierce, 23.
At Worcester, Miss Clarissa G. Waters, IS-
At New Bedford, Mr. Caleb Johnson, 70.
At Marlboro', Miss Louisa K. Wentworth, 20.
At Kingston, Hon, Thomas Prince Beal, 66.
At Burhngton, Daniel Mclntire, Esq., 63.
At Foxboro", Miss Sally 0. Fuller, 39.
At South Brooktield, Mrs. Ann E. Walliee, 24.
At Augusta, Me., Mr. Henry M. Blunt, 39.
At Lansingburg, N. Y., Hon. Jacob C. Lansing, 62.
At Baltimore, Mr. William G. Hagger, 31.
At Charleston, S. C, Mrs. EUza SUaw, of Boston.
At New Orleans, Capt. Melville Nichols, 31.
AND
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
^t Record of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the rao.'it elegant
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78
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Olcoson'B Plctorinl.]
COVENANTERS* HYMN.
BY J. IIONT, JR.
"We praiso thco, 0 Ood, in the fipirlt of truth,
Fop mercies conferred from thy bountiful Htoro ;
Thy guurdiivn grace, from tlio morning of youtli,
Hath guided our footsteps, and will ovormoro.
Wo praiso thee for blossingH which yielded relief,
Wlien storniH of adversity ravaged the breast ;
"WTicn arrows of sorrow, and poisonous grief,
Probed deep in tlio heart, and distracted our rest.
"Wo praiso thee, and worship thee, Father of love,
Por pleasures enjoyed in a season of \rail ;
Which shed their olTulgoDce around and above,
As beams of the sunset illumine a vale.
Wo pniistj thee, 0 God, for the faith of the soul,
And yearnings for part in tho maneiona of peace ;
Where centres our all of an iufinito whole,
Mid homes of the angels, where sufferings eeaso.
We praise theo, 0 God, for tho issues of Ufc,
And promise of dwelling in worlds of true bliss j
Where all the rude eonflicta of passionate strife
Are closed to the weeping and warring of this.
Where, sheltered forever, the blackness of night
No more will o'ershadow tho future with gloom ;
Where day-beams of glory reveal to our sight
The roses of hope in perennial bloom.
We'll sing of thy greatness, 0 Infinite One,
Till our terra of existence is brought to a close j
And trust, when the work of our striving is done,
To rest from our labors, in righteous repose.
0 holy, indeed, is the calm which extends
O'er yonder broad kingdom of sorrowless sigha ;
Where ill we 've encountered triumphantly ends.
In that priceless perfection pervading the skies.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE YOUJfG PHILOSOPHER.
A SKETCH FOR PARENTS.
BY SYLVANCS COBB, JR.
Mr. Solomon "Winthrop was a plain old
farmex' — an austere, precise man, who did every-
thing by established rules, and who could see no
reason why people should ever grasp at things
beyond what had been reached by their great
great grandfathers. He had three children — two
boys and a girl. There was Jeremiah, seven-
teen years old, Samuel, fifteen, and Fanny, thir-
teen.
It was a cold winter's day. Samuel was in
the kitchen reading a book, and so interested
was he that he did not notice the entrance of his
father. Jex-emiah was in an opposite corner en-
gaged in ciphering out a sum which he had
found in his arithmetic.
" Sam," said the farmer to his youngest son,
"have you worked out that sum yet?"
"No, sir," returned the boy, in a hesitating
manner.
" Didn't I tell you to stick to your arithmetic
till you had done it," uttered Mr. Winthrop, in
a severe tone.
Samuel hung down his head and looked
troubled.
"Why haven't you done iti" continued the
father.
" I can't do it, sir," tremblingly returned the
boy.
" Can't do it ? And why not ? Look at Jerry,
there, with his slate and arithmetic. He had
ciphered further than you have long before he
was as old as you are."
"Jerry was always fond of mathematical
problems, sir ; but I can't fasten my mind on
them. They have no interest for me."
" That's because you don't try to feel any in-
terest in your studies. Wliat book is that you
are reading V
" It's a work on philosophy, sir."
" A work on fiddle-sticks ! Go put it away
this instant, and then get your slate, and don't
you let me see you away from your arithmetic
again until you can work out these roots. Do
you understand me 1"
Samuel made no answer, but silently he put
away his philosophy, and then got his slate, and
sat down again in the chimney corner. His
nether lip trembled, and his eyes were moistened,
for he was unhappy. His father had been harsh
towards him, and he felt that it was without just
cause.
" Sam," said Jerry, as soon as the old man
had gone, " I'll do that sum for you."
"No, Jerry," returned the younger brother,
but yet with a grateful look ; " that would be de-
ceiving our father. I will try and do the sura
myself, though I fear I shall not succeed."
Samuel worked mid studied, but all to no pur-
pose. His m'fn*\ was not on the subject before
him, Tho roots and squares, tho bases, hy*
potbenuses and perpendiculars, though compura-
tivcly simple in tliemselvos, were to him a
mingled mass of Incompreliensible tilings, and
the raoi'e lio studied the more did lie become
perplexed and botlicrcd. Tlic truth was, his
father did not understand him.
Samuel was a bright boy, and uncommonly
intelligent for one of his age. Mr. Wintlu'op
was a tiiorough malhomatician — ^Iie had never
yet come across a proI)lcm he could not solve,
and he desired that his children should be like
him, for he conceived that the very acme of ed-
iicational perfection lay in tlie power of con-
quering Euclid, and he often expressed the opin-
ion tliat, were Euclid living then, he could " give
the old geometrician a hard tussle." He never
seemed to comprehend that different minds were
made with dilfcrent capacities, and that what
one mind could grasp with ease, another, of
equal power, would fail to comprehend. Hence,
because Jeremiah progressed rapidly in his
mathematical studies, and could already survey
a piece of land of many angles, he imagined
that, because Samuel made no progress at all in
the same branch, he was idle and careless, and
he treated him accordingly. He never candidly
conversed with his younger son, with a view to
ascertain the ti-ue bent of liis mind, and thus en-
able himself to open a proper field for the scope
of that mind, but he had his own standard of the
power of all mind, and he pertinaciously ad-
hered to it.
There was another thing Mr. Winthrop could
not see, and that was, that Samuel was continu-
ally studying and pondering upon such profitable
matters as interested him, and that he was
scarcely ever idle, nor did the father see, either,
that if he ever wished his boy to become a math-
ematician, he was pursuing the very course to
prevent such a result. Instead of endeavoring
to make the stucly interesting to the child, he
was making it really obnoxious.
The dinner hour came, and Samuel had not
yet worked out the sum. His father was angry,
and obliged the boy to go without his dinner, at
the same time telling him that he was an idle,
lazy child.
Poor Samuel left the kitchen and went up to
his chamber, and there he sat and cried. At
length his mind seemed to pass from the wi'ong
ho had suffered at the hands of his parent and
took another turn, and the grief-marks left his
face. There was a large fire in the room below
his chamber, so he was not very cold ; and get-
ting up from his seat he went to a small closet,
and from beneath a lot of old clothes he dragged
forth some long strips of wood and commenced
whittling. It was not for mere paL^dme that he
thus whittled, for he was fashioning some curi-
ous affair from those pieces of wood. He had
bits of wire, little scraps of tin-plate, pieces of
twine, and some dozen small wheels that he had
made himself, and he seemed to be working to
get them together after some peculiar fashion of
his own.
• Half the afternoon had thus passed away when
his sister entered his chamber. She had her
apron gathered up in her hand, and after closing
the door softly behind her, she approached the
spot where her brother sat.
" Here, Sammy — see, I have brought you up
something to eat. I know you must be hungry."
As she spoke, she opened her apron and took
out four cakes, and a piece of pie and cheese.
The boy was hungry, and he hesitated not to
avail himself of his sister's kind offer. He kissed
her as he took the cakes, and thanked her.
" 0, what a pretty thing that is you are mak-
ing," uttered Eanny, as slie gazed upon the re-
sult of her brother's labors. " Wont you give it
to me after it's done ?"
"Not this one, sister," retui-ncd the boy, with
a smile ; " but as soon as I get time I will make
you something equally as pretty,"
Fanny thanked her brother, and shortly after-
wards she left the room, and the boy resumed
liis work.
At the end of a week the various materials
that had been subjected to Samuel's jack-knife
and pincers had assumed form and comeliness,
and they were jointed and grooved together in a
curious combination. The embryo philosopher
set the raacliinc — for it looked something like a
machine — upon the floor, and then he stood off
and gazed upon it. His bright eye gleamed
with a peculiar glow of satisfaction, and he look-
ed proud and happy. While yet he stood and
gazed upon the child of his labor, the door of liis
chamber was opened and his father entered.
"What — arc you not studying?" exclaimed
Mr. Winthrop, as he noticed bis boy standing
idle in the middle of ilie floor.
Samuel trembled as he heard his fatlicr's
voice, and he turned pale witJi fear.
" Ha, what is this ?" continued Mr. Winthrop,
as lie caught sight of tlio curious con.slruction
upon the floor. " This, then, is the secret of
your idleness. Now I sec how it is that you
cannot master your studies. You spend your
time in making play-houses and fly-pens. I'll
see whether you'll learn to attend to your les-
sons or not. There !"
As the father uttered that simple interjection,
he placed bis foot upon the object of las dis-
pleasure. The boy uttered a quick cry, and
sprang eagerly forward, but he was too late.
The curious construction was crushed to atoms
■ — the labor of long weeks was utterly gone !
The lad gazed for a moment upon the mass of
ruins, and then covering his face with his hands
he burst into tears.
" Aint you ashamed V said Mr. Winthrop,
"a great boy like you to spend your time on
such clap-traps, and then cry about it because
I choose that you should attend to your studies 1
Now go out -to the bani and help Jerry shell
corn."
The hoy was too full of grief to make any
explanation, and without a word lie left his
chamber ; but for long days afterwards he was
sad and down-hearted.
" Samuel," said Mr. Winthrop, one day after
the spring had opened, " I have seen Mr. Young,
and he is willing to take you as an apprentice.
Jerry and I can get along on the farm, and I
think the best thing you can do is to learn the
blacksmith's trade. I liavc given up all hopes
of ever making a surveyor of yon ; and if you
had a farm, you wouldn't know how to measure
it and lay it out. Jerry, now, will soon be able
to take my place as a surveyor, and I have al-
ready made arrangements for having him sworn,
and obtaining his commission. But your trade
will be a good one, however, and I have no
doubt you vvill make a living at it."
Mr. Young was a blacksmith in a neighboring
town, and he carried on quite an extensive busi-
ness, and, moreover, he had the reputation of
being a fine man. Samuel was delighted with
his father's proposal, and when he learned that
Mr. Young also carried on quite a large machine
shop he was in ecstacies. His trunk was packed,
— a good supply of clothes having been provided ;
and after kissing his mother and sister, and
shaking hands with his father and brother, he
mounted the stage and set off' for his new desti-
nation.
He found Mr. Young all that he could wish,
and he went into his business with an assiduity
that surprised his master. One evening, after
Samuel Winthrop had been with his new master
six months, the latter came into the shop one
night after all the journeymen had quit work
and gone home, and found the youth busily en-
gaged in filing a piece of iron. There were
quite a number of pieces laying upon the bench
by his side, some of which were curiously rivet-
ted together and fixed with springs and slides,
while others appeared not yet ready for their
destined use. Mr. Young ascertained what the
young workman was up to, and he not only en-
com'aged him in his undertaking, but he stood
for half an hour and watched him at his work.
The next day Samuel Winthrop was removed
from the blacksmith's shop to the machine shop.
Samuel often visited his parents, and at the
end of two years his father was not a little sur-
prised when Mr. Young informed him that Sam-
uel was the most useful hand he had.
Time flew by fast. Samuel was twenty-one.
Jeremiah had been free two years, and he was
one of the most accurate and trustworthy sur-
veyors in the country. Mr. Winthrop looked
upon his eldest son with pride, and often .ex-
pressed the wish that the other son could have
been like him. Samuel had come to visit his
native home, and Mr. Young had come with him.
" Mr. Young," said Mr. Winthrop, after the
tea things had been cleared away, " that is a fine
large factory they have erected in your town."
" Yes," returned Mr. Young, " there are three
of them, and they are doing a heavy business."
" I understand they have an extensive ma-
chine shop connected with the factories. Now
if my boy Sam is as good a workman as you
say he is, perhaps he might get a first rate situa-
tion there."
Mr. Young looked at Samuel and smiled.
" By tho way," continued the old farmer.
"what is all this noise I hear and sec in tho
newspapers about these patent Winthrop Looms.
They tell me they go aiiead of anything that has
been got up before."
" You must ask your son about that," retum-
ed Mr. Young. "That is some of Samuel's
business,"
" FJi f What ? My son 'i Some of Sam—"
The old man stopped short and gazed at his
boy. He was bewildered. It could not he that
his son — his idle son — was the inventor of llie
great power loom that had taken all the manu-
facturers by surprise.
" What do you moan ';"' he at length asked.
" It simply means, father, that that loom is
mine," retunied Samuel, with a look of con-
scious pride, "I invented it, and have taken
out a patent right, and I have already been offer-
ed ten tliousand dollars for the right of patent
in two adjoining States. Don't you remember
that dup-trap that you cruslied with your foot
six years ago V
"Yes," answered tlie old man, whose eyes
were bent to the flooi', and over whose mind a
new liglit seemed to be breaking.
"Well," continued Samuel, "that was almost
a pattern of the very loom I have set up in the
factories, though, of course, I have made much
alteration and improvement, and there is room
for improvement yet."
"And that was what you were studying about
when you used to stand and see me weave, and
when you used to fumble about my loom so
much," said Mrs. Wlnihrop.
" You are right, mother. Even then I had
conceived the idea I have since carried out."
" And that is why you couldn't study my
mathematical problems," uttered Mr. Winthrop,
as he started from his chair and took the youth
by the hand. " Samuel, my son, forgive me for
the harshness I have used towards you. I have
been blind, foolishly so, and I now see how I
misunderstood you. While I thought you were
idle and careless, you were solving a philosophi-
cal problem that I never could have compre-
hended. Forgive me, Samuel — I meant well
enough, but I lacked in judgment and discrimi-
nation."
Of course tlie old man had long before been
forgiven for his harshness, and his mind was
open to a new lesson in human nature. It was
simply this :
Different minds have different capacities, and
no mind can be driven to love that for which it
has no taste. First, seek to understand the nat-
ural abilities and dispositions of children, and
then, in your management of their education for
after life, govern yourselves accordingly. The
same soil that will give life and vigor to the
beautiful, the useful and stately pine, will not
bear the sturdy oak. George Combe, the great-
est moral philosopher of his day, could hardly
reckon in simple addition, and Colburn, the
mathematician, could not write out a common-
place address !
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE liASS OF S.4lCHEM»S HEAD.
BT F. W. RUSSELL.
In memory clings her image yet,
Though merry months have fled
Since first, midst pleasure's throng, I met
The lass of Sachem's Head.
Her's was an eye that quick the heart
A willing captive led ;
Such heavenly glances did impart
The lass of Sachem's Head.
Her's was a form divinely fair.
And o'er her queenly head,
In tresses strayed her jetty hair,
The lass of Sachem's Head.
Her's was a laugh so full of glee,
So merry all she said ;
A most bewitching fair was she,
The lass of Sachem's Head.
None ever knew her but they loved,
None ever saw, but said
'Twas vain to gaze upon, unmoved,
The lass of Sachem's Head.
I saw ber charms, her gazo I met,
And o'er my soul was shed
A spell that binds in memory yet
The lass of Sachem's Head.
And till the sun of life shall set,
Till soul and sense arc sped ;
I TOW I never can forget
The lass of Sachem's Head.
A dull boy may be likened to a lamp, whicJi
becomes all the brighter for a little trimming.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL I) P. A WING EOOM COMPANION.
79
AUSTRALIA.
The Wliiteliiivcn Herald gives the following
information respecting the first discovery of gold
in Austi-alia ; " The first piece found was by a
native. He was a bushman. The scale of in-
tellect of the Australians is remarkable for its
lowness. Seeing his master counting a lot of
sovereigns, he said he had found a piece of ' yel-
low stuff/ far bigger than all those together,
which he had hidden, and would bring it to his
master if he would give him a new suit of cordu-
roy. The bargain was struck, after which the
man went and produced a lump of Golconda,
weighing one hundred and six pounds, and val-
ued at £5077 4s. 6d."
FATTEMXG YOUKG LADIES IN TUNIS.
A girl, after she is betrothed, is cooped up in
a small room, with shackles of gold and silver
upon her ankles and wrist. If she is to be mar-
ried to a man who has discharged, despatched,
or lost a former wife, the shackles which the for-
mer wife wore are put upon the new bride's
limbs, and she is fed till they are filled up to the
proper thickness. The food used for this cus-
tom, worthy of barbarians, is a seed called
drough, which is of an extraordinary fattening
quality. AVith this seed, and their national dish,
cuscusoo, the bride is literally crammed, and
many actually die under the spoon.
OLD FASHIONS REVIVING.
The Paris Correspondent of the London
Morning Clironicle writes : For the benefit of
the ladies I may note that " beauty spots " seem
coming up again. The fair complexions, in par-
ticular, patronize them. The other night, at a
ball given at one of the ministers, a few of the
fair guests appeared in powder. A favorite
style of coiffure appears to be brushing the hair
back in frizzled curls, such as those which -^'C
see adorning the portrait of Madame Montespan
and other beauties of her age.
RECIPROCITY.
The Congregationalist and the Trumpet {Uni-
versalist) have made an aiTangement for each
paper to keep before the people, in standing
columns, a collection of Scripture texts selected
by the other. So that the Trumpet publishes
every week a list of texts against TJniversalism,
selected' by the Congregationalist ; and the Con-
gregationalist publishes every week a list of texts
selected by the Trumpet. And each is pledged
to continue this arrangement as long as the
other will.
CALIFORNIA GOLD.
The Journal of Commerce has a table of mint
statistics for a number of years past, from which
it appears that the deposits of California gold at
our mints, for coinage, since its first discovery
up to the first of June, amount in round num-
bers to SI18,600,000. To this add $7,000,000
for June, and the amount thus in liand is
S-125,600,000. It is probably safe to estimate
the total production of the California mines to
date, at nearly §200,000,000.
ST. LOUIS AND CINCINNATL
Two hundred and thirty miles of the Great
"Western Eailroad to St. Louis, we learn from
the Cincinnati Gazette, have been sub-let on
most advantageous terms, and the work will now
progress with great activity. The part let ex-
tends from Cincinnati to the intersection with
the Jeffersonville Eailway (85 miles), which,
when completed, will make a railway line to
liOuisville, and from St. Louis, through the
State of Illinois, to Vincennes — 145 miles.
The Crystal Palace. — The value of the
contents of the Cx'ystal Palace was only bet%veen
eight and nine millions of dollars. This docs
not include, however, the great cro\vn diamond,
the Koh-i-noor.
Great Country. — When our country be-
comes as densely populated as Holland, it will
contain 837,433,019 inhabitants — nearly the pre-
sent number of the human race.
A Valuable Purchase — Lowell Mason,
Esq., of this city, has purchased of the heii-s of
the late composer Einck, of Darmstadt, the
whole of his large and valuable musical library.
AaiERiCAN Flowers in London. — A recent
exhibition of American flowers in London has
been g leatly admired.
illausiliE ©atljerings.
"Wliite zinc paint is said to cover from 40 to
100 per cent, more surface than white lead.
In eating hasty-pudding and milk, too mnch
care cannot be taken to chew your victuals fine.
The average life of bank officers is 63, of sex-
tons 57, of railway conductors 30, of brakemen
27.
There is said to be a inan in the west so libe-
ral that he never needs a fire, the u-armth of his
generosity answers every purpose.
At Cincinnati, Henry Lecount has been sen-
tenced to be hanged on the 26th of November
for the murder of William Clinck.
Gold has been found in Oregon recently, but
not in large quantities. It is supposed that it ex-
ists in the whole range of the Cascade Mountains.
By the tomado at Newcastle, Delaware, on
Tuesday, houses were unroofed, several j^ersons
injured and four horses killed.
In the police court, a few days since, a young
man was fined two dollars and costs, for profane
swearing.
It is thought that the late fire in Purchase
and Broad Streets, Boston, was caused by fh-e-
crackers, thrown into the stable.
James Dalton was taken out of the dock, at.
East Boston, lately, just in time to save his life.
Eura got him in — the watch got him out.
The tecs of Judge George H. Campbell, of
Calaveras County, California, formerly a report-
er for the Boston press, amount to something
like SI 5,000 per annum.
One of tiie steamboats that runs from Port-
land to the Penobscot, advertises in a morning
paper, that the boat will leave on Friday, " to go
as far as the ice will permit !"
T. S. Sutherland, a fraudulent debtor who ab-
sconded from Montreal, was arrested at New
York on his way to Australia, and will be re-
turned to Canada under the Ashbuiton treaty.
The Turkish women are lost in wonder at the
Frank women for exposing their faces to wind
and weather, when they could so easily protect
them by veils.
Take frequent ablutions ; don't mix any bran-
dy with your water ; wear a clean shirt, and pre-
serve a clean conscience. This will put you
through — the summer.
The Diario, of Eio Janeiro, of March 13th,
the official paper, describes the people of the
United States as " a set of bankrupts — a nation
of savages."
A lady of Dorchester, while passing over the
turnpike near South Boston, on Independence
evening, found a well-dressed infant by the road-
side, which she will adopt.
It is a popular belief that because a girl is
weeping when a lover enters the room, that she
is crying for him ; but it may be that she has just
done peeling onions.
We see it stated that the phonetic system of
spelling has been introduced into no less than
fifty-three of the public schools of Massachusetts.
The more's the pity.
Mr. GrinncU's yacht Tmant, of New York,
has beaten three boats of the Model Yacht Club,
at Liverpool, coming in sixteen minutes ahead
of the best.
The Picayune says that nineteen bodies in all
have been recovered from the ill-fated steamer
St. James, and the whole number of deatlis so
far, from the casualty, is 57.
The New Orleans Delta, of the 4th instant,
says the health of the city, at the present time,
is excellent. There have been a few scattering
cases of sporadic cholera, but we do not hear of
a case now.
In Worcester, on the 5th, John O'Neil had
his face badly shattered by the premature dis-
charge of bis gun. He was leaning his face on
the muzzle of the gun when the accident occur-
red. He is not expected to recover.
North Carolina papers give distressing ac-
counts of a prevailing drought in that State.
Wells, springs and streams, heretofore perennial,
are dry, or nearly so, in many sections, and all
the crops arc being seriously injured.
The following toast has done good service on
more than one occasion : — ** The cartridge-box,
the ballot-box, and the band-box : the external,
the internal, and the eternal preseiTation of re-
publicanism."
Two brothers, natives of Ireland, were sun
stnick in Utica, on Thursday. One died imme-
diately, but the other, who was pronounced in a
dying condition by his physician, was restored
by placing his feet in warm water.
The Dutch have a singular contrivance to
cure laziness. If a pauper, who is able, refuses
to work, they put him into a cistern, and let in a
sluice of water. It comes in just so fast that, by
briskly playing a pump, with which the cistern
is furnished, he keeps himself from drowning.
There has been a riot between the blacks and
whites at St. Catherine's, Canada, in which the
negroes were driven to the woods, and their vil-
lages entirely demolished. These are the colored
people who have fled from slavery in the United
States.
The Hightsto^™ (N. J.) Gazette says that
Stacy Horner, an old resident, lately cmbai-ked
for Califomia with his wife, 22 children and
grandchildren, and ten young friends. They
will settle on a farm of 1200 acres about twenty-
five miles from San Francisco, in the San Jose
VaUey.
JForcign flliscellann.
Seyd Pasha, of Egy|3t, has an-ived in London
from Pai'is, and had an interview with the queen.
Government has chartered the American ship
Ticonderoga, at Liverpool, to carry emigrants to
Australia.
A paper published at Windsor, Canada West,
states that the arrivals of fugitive slaves, at that
place, average three per day.
The L-ish submarine telegraph is not yet in
working order, owing to some injury done to the
wires by a vessel's anchor.
It is feared that, unless Louis Napoleon pnts
less Cayenne into his political soup, Paris will
ere long become too hot for him.
The university of Oxford has presented a
splendid gold salver to the American bishop of
Michigan, now on a visit to England.
The Tories of Edinburg are bringing forward
T. C. Bruce, a younger brother of Lord Elgin,
as their parliamentary candidate.
In Prussia there are large numbers of people
engaged in delivering messages from heaven
while they are asleep.
Twelve hundred packet ships, and one hun-
dred and forty-five steam vessels, are said to be
engaged in commerce between Ireland and
England.
At a recent regatta in England, for the first
class prize, tliere was a model of the Eddystone
lighthouse in silver, value XIOO. This was novel
and appropriate.
An English paper says that the Duchess of
Sutherland frequently wears upon her jjerson
jewels amounting in value to nearly half a mil-
lion sterling !
The London Weekly Dispatch states that up-
wards of .£30,000 (8144,400) were lost per week,
for fifteen weeks, making no less than S2, 282, 500,
by the recent strike of the English engineers.
Mr. John Topham, schoolmaster at Wray
Green, recently shot a heron in that neighbor-
hood. It measm'ed five and a half feet across
the wings from tip to tip, and four feet seven
inches from the point of the bill to the toes.
Only two editors of the London daily papers
are Englishmen! — Delaine, editor of the Times,
and Hunt, editor of the Daily News. The edi-
tors of the Standard, Morning Herald and Globe
are Irishmen; of the ilorning Advertiser, Sun
and Morning Post, Scotchmen.
In a few days the new screw schooner Isabel,
which has been fitted out by Lady Franklin, as-
sisted by the Geographical Society, and placed
under the command of Captain Inglefield, will
sail on another search for Sir John Franklin,
through Jones's and Smith's Sounds, off" Baffin's
Bay.
Soker's Siti^gct.
Sanirs of ©olb.
As a man sows, so shall he reap.
Water is the best drink. Exercise and
pure air, the best medicines.
.... Sti'ong words indicate a weak cause.
The more a man swears, the easier he is licked.
.... The physically blind feel their infirmity ;
but what shall we say of the morally blind ?
There are lying looks as well as lying
words, dissembling smiles, deceiving signs, and
even a lying silence.
.... UnaiFected modesty is the sweetest charm
of female excellence — the richest gem in the dia-
dem of their honor.
.... Cunning leads to knavery ; it is but a
step from one to the other, and that very slip-
pery J lying only makes the diff'erence ; add that
to cunning and it is knavery.
.... An infinitely small piece of gold can be
spread over a wire that might girdle tlie earth ;
yet a much less portion of truth will serve to gild
a much greater quantity of falsehood.
.... In fashionable circles, general satire,
which attacks the fault rather than the person, is
unwelcome; while that which attacks the person
and spares the fault, is always acceptable.
.... Never imagine tliat you are helpless, be-
cause you lack some of the external facilities
which others possess. Wlielher you do any-
thing or nothing depends entirely on the will.
.... It is always more discreet to he awk-
wardly silent than ridiculously loquacious ; there-
fore, when the tongue cannot be employed to
some purpose, it had better be allowed to rest.
.... If we scrutinize the lives of men of genius,
we shall find that activity and persistence are
their leading peculiarities. Obstacles cannot
intimidate, nor labor weaiy, nor drudgery dis-
gust them.
Everything may be mimicked by hj'poc-
risy but humility and love united. The hum-
blest star twinkles most in the darkest night.
The more rare humility and love united, the
more radiant when they meet.
.... The man who will not execute his resolu-
tions when they are fresh upon him, can have no
hope from them afterwards ; they will be dissi-
pated, lost, and stifled, in the huiTy-scurryof the
world, or swamped in the slougli of indolence.
Every operation in nature, or the world
of matter, has its counterpart in the spirit or
world of mind. Hence the student must become
thoroughly versed in the objective, before he en-
ters the subjective region ; otherwise he may fall
under the accusation of being unable to read.
Wlicn is the Pope of Eome like an Irishman?
When he makes hulls.
Why is a horse like the United States ? Ans.
He has a mane. (Maine.)
Wliy are clothes like a class of European sol-
diers ? Ans. — They are a body guard.
Why did woman exist before man ? Because
Eve was the first made (maid.)
Wliy is matrimony like a cobbler ? Because
it binds two souls (soles) in unity.
When is a person's mouth like a public park?
When it contains several (achers) acres.
AVhy is a decrepit man like a tooth that can-
not be extracted ? Because he is in-firm.
Why is Beach's newspaper like Richard, Duke
of Gloucester? Because it is the Sun of York.
When you go out to slide on the ice, choose a
pond without water, and then you will be sure
not to get drowned.
Why should we pity a traveller when about to
put up at an inn ? Because he is inn disposed.
(indisposed.)
Solomon Slocum who was thrown from the
horse-radish a couple of weeks since, Dr. Bum-
fudgeon reports to be in an ejfei-vescent state.
Why is a dog shaking his tail over the grave
of his master, like a hearse? Because it's a wag-
ging (wagon) for the dead.
Why is the flag of the United States like the
Northern Ocean ? Because it zvaves from the
Atlantic to the Pacific.
The wives along the Mississippi never bloic up
their husbands. They leave it all to the steam-
boats, which are sure to do it sooner or later.
If anything will make aman feel "juicy about
the heart," it is to talk velvet to a pair of sky-
colored eyes in a clover field. Time — a moon-
shiny evening in June.
A Maine editor says that a pumpkin in that
State grew so large, that eight men could stand
round it. This is like the man who saw a flock
of blackbirds so low, that he could shake a stick
at them.
VOLTIMES 1st & 2a.
CxLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
TVe have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawisq
Boom Companiox elegsmtly bound in cloth, with gilt edgea
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Fotir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events aU over the world J
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUJIINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Berides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the PubUcation Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Dnion, for Three DoUari. per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR MIO^,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, ^ivritten exp :ssly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, nd on
all sectarian questions, it ia strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POE TKE MILLION',
AND A "WELCOME TISITOR TO TIIE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly paper in the United Slates, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
BO condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amuBement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means cor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO SUBSCEIBERS.
1 subscriber, one year S2 00
3 subBcribers, " - 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag op odr Usiox, and one copy of the
PiCToauL DaAwixG-RooM Cohpasiox, one year, for S5'00.
[C7= Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
[Cr' -^^l orders shoiiM ie addressed, POST PAID, to the
PCBLIBUEB OF TQE FLAQ OP OUft USION.
\ * 27ie Flag can be obtained at any of the neiospap:'-
depots in the United Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOOa CENTS per sim'.: copy.
F. GLEASON,
Publisher and Proprietor, Boston, Mass.
80
GLEASON^S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
FETRIDGE & CO's PERIODICAL ARCADE, WASHINGTON AND STATE STREETS, BOSTON,
FETRIDGE'S PERIODICAL DEPOT.
Our'artist lias given us above an admirable
and accurate engraving of the interior of the
famous periodical depot and bookstore of Fet-
ridgc & Co., of this citj, situated at Nos. 72 and
74 Washington Street, and 15 State Street, run-
ning through from Washington, and affording a
second front entrance on State Street. It seems
very much hke telling the public where the State
House is situated, or the Custom House, when
we describe the locality of a place as well known
as Fetridge's book and periodical depot. The
earliest book and periodical depot in Boston was
that of Weeks, Jordan & Co., to wiiom Fetridge
& Co. are successors. The former house started
in business in 1834, and at that time were agents
for all the magazines, quarterlies, reviews, etc.,
both in England and America ; this is the spirit
of the business still carried on by the house.
The picture which we give above will show our
readers that they have one of the finest stores for
the purpose in the city. Over this they have
just established an extensive and very beautiful
reading-room for subscribers, where all the new
works of the day, and a large collection of
standard works, can be consulted by the sub-
scribers at all times, and books leased at the
usual library rates of the city. This is an ad-
mirable combination of business, and should en-
sure to the enterprising proprietors an ample and
prompt reward. We may add that the Flag and
Pictorial arc always to be found on the counters
of Messrs. Fetridge & Co.'s elegant and conve-
nient establishment.
LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER.
Below we present a portrait of this singular
compound of cunning, shrewdness, imbecility,
roguery and sarca;5m, appending some few from
among the many anecdotes that might be gather-
ed to illustrate his peculiar character. He was
born in Maiden, near Boston, in the year 1743.
He was bred to the leather-dressing. About the
time of Dexter's apprenticeship the secret of
dressing skins after the fashion of leather brought
from tiie Levant, called morocco leather, be-
came known to some of the craft in Charlestown,
and for years they had the monopoly of the bu-
siness. A great demand for the article for ladies'
shoes gave the initiated constant employment.
On arriving at the ajje of twent3'-one, Dexter
commenced business for himself, and by indus-
try, frugality and perseverance, soon became
PARABLE OF THE PEN AND THE SWORD.
The pen and the sword strove for superiority,
and the judges were divided. The men of learn-
ing talked morals, and persuaded many; the
men of arms were fierce, and compelled many to
join their side. Both were left to settle their
dispute m single combat. On one side, books
rustled in the libraries ; on the other, arms rat-
tled in the arsenals. — Men looked on in hope and
fear, waiting for the end. The pen, consecrated
to truth, was notorious ior falsehood. The sword,
a servant of God, was stained with innocent
blood. Botli hoped for the aid of Heaven ; both
found its wrath. The pen was weak, but quick,
glib, well exercised, and very bold when once
provoked. The sword was stern, implacable,
but less compact and subtle ; so that on botli
sides the victory remained uncertain. At length
the common weal pronounced that both in turn
should stand by her side, and bear with each
other ; for that only is a happy country where the
pen and sword are faithful servants — not where
either governs by will or passion. — ,/. V. Andrea.
PORTRAIT OF LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER.
thrifty and above board, and in a few years after
the peace, could command several thousands of
dollars in specie. His first lucky speculation
was in buying up the old continental money,
which, after the peace of 1783, was depreciated
to almost nothing, and the securities issued by
the State of Massachusetts, which had, for a
wliile, kept public confidence in that quarter
alive, but had now sunk to about two shillings
and sixpence on the pound. John Hancock,
governor of the Commonwealth, and Thomas
RusscI, the most eminent merchant then in
America, to keep up the public confidence,
would make purchases of these securities, until
the amount was considerable. Dexter, finding
his great neighbors doing something in stocks,
took all his own cash, with what his wife had,
and in imitation purchased likewise. He proba-
bly made better bargains than the magnates did.
He bought in smaller quantities, and had better
opportunities to make his purchases than they
had. When Hamilton's funding system went
into operation, he was at once a wealthy man ;
and leaving liis mechanical business, speculated
pretty largely in stocks, and to great advantage.
At one time, Dexter's passion was for horses ;
and, with the assistance of his coachman, he was
frequently successful in obtaining a fine span for
his carriage ; but although he kept a beautiful
saddle horse, he seldom ventured to appear on
horseback. He conceived a desire for the exlii-
bition of cream-colored horses, and after a long
time bought a pair of very good ones, and for a
while he heard the boys cry out : " Huzza for
Dexter's horses !" but their admiration died
away, and bis love for cream-colored horses died
witli it. Unstable as the wind, be sold them for
no other fault than that they would not change
color as his fancy changed. At another time a
rigger of one of his vessels called upon him for
a large quantity of stay stuff, wlien he rode to
Salem and Boston, and purchased up all the
whale-bone to be found, and had it brought to
Newburyport, and wdien his workmen laughed at
him for his stupidity, he said: "Never mind."
In a short time it w^as found that he had monopo-
lized the article, and could command his own
price for it. This put him on a scent by which
he frequently profited, for he would inquire if
any article was scarce in the market, and if so,
he would buy up all he could find, and not un-
frequently raised the price of it to double or more.
He made quite a speculation in opium at one
time, in this way. It often happened that shrewd
merchants were suspicious of selling him an ar-
ticle, apprehensive that it was almost a sure sign
that it was going to rise, although they could see
no reason for it. We might give other illustra-
ticns of his character did our space admit.
( CORNER BROMPIELD
1'. LrljJiAOUiN, ( AND TREMONT STS,
BOSTON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 7, 1852.
S2 PER TOLCME. | ^j XTT
10 Ctb. single. ) V OL. 111.
No. 6.— Whole No. 58.
PLEASANT 3IOUNTAIN HOUSE.
Pleasant Mountain, Denmark, Oxford county,
Maine, is about forty-five miles from Portland,
on a direct route between that city and the White
Mountains. It rises about 4000 feet above the
level of the sea, and stands quite alone. The
view is very extended, bounded on the north by
the White Mountains (the different peaks stand-
ing out in relief against the sky) ; on the south
by the ocean. More than forty different sheets
of water can be ^een from its summit with the
■naked eye. Lovcwell's Pond, Fryeburg, cele-
brated for the skirmish between Capt. John Love-
well and the famous Indian chief, Paugus, ap-
pears almost at its base. It is. novel to look
down upon the clouds, to w^atch the shower as
it passes over different towns and villages, to
see it creep around the base of the mountain, or
up its side, to hear the rain below you, and be all
the while yourself in the sunlight. Sometimes
at early day the clouds and vapors stretch out
over the earth below you, and you appear to be
upon an island in the midst of the ocean, while
the White Mountains arc your distant island
neighbors. Far above you is the blue sky and
white silvery clouds. The lower clouds creep
almost to your feet; and when the sun first peeps
above the horizon, the higher portions, having
the appearance of waves, are bathed in a golden
light. As the sun warms this mist, it rises, and
little by little you begin to see the earth, first the
hills, then the tree tops, or. perhaps, the wind
has driven away a portion of the mist, and a vil-
lage or a farm is discovered down beneath the
waters. Six years ago, two Boston gentlemen,
hunting upon this mountain, were so delighted
with the scenery, and so enthusiastic in their de-
scription, that the owner was induced to erect a
small building upon its top for the temporary rest
and refreshment of those who climbed its rugged
summit. Three years ago the mountain was
bought by Joseph S. Sargent. He set about
erecting a large substantial house. It was, of
course, attended with many ditiiculties, but he
was persevering and energetic; and he has now
upon this lofty elevation a beautiful and commo-
dious hotel, while tlie mountain has become one
of the most favorite resorts in New England.
PLEASANT MOUNTAIN HOUSE, DENMAKK, OXFORD COUNTY, MAINE.
82
GLEASON'S PICTOrJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massaehusetts.
[WBITTBN EXPKESSI-T FOB GLEA80N S PICTORIAL.]
I ■■■ >
THE
ggrD
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
% 0f0t5 of Un mh i^}( Cow iAi\iixU$,
BY LIEUTENANT MUREAY.
[continued.]
CHAPTER X.— [COKTINUED.]
" "Well, brother, it seems that Captain Bezan
has been liberated and pardoned, after all/' said
Isabella, with a voice of assumed indifference.
*'Yes, sister, but at a sad cost; for he has
been banished to Spain."
" How strange he was not shot, when so many
fired at him."
" Sister 1"
" Well."
" Can you keep a secret V
" I think so, Kucz," said Isabella, half smiling
at the question of her brother.
" Well, it's not so Tcry wonderful, since I drew
the bullets from the guns !"
And Ruez explained to her that he had secre-
ted himself in the house, with the hope that some-
thing might turn up to save his friend even yet,
and there he had found a chance to draw the
bullets from the twelve muskets. After lie had
told her, she threw her arms about his neck, and
said :
" You are a dear, good brother."
"And for what, sister'?"
" For saving Captain Bezan's life ; for other-
wise he had been shot."
" But why do you care so much about it, sis-
ter V asked the boy, seriously.
" O, nothing, only — that is, you know, Ruez,
we owe Captain Bezan so much om'selves for
having hazarded his life for us all."
Ruez turned away from his sister with an ex-
pression in his face that made her start ; for he
began to read his sister's heart, young as he was,
better than she knew it herself. He loved Lo-
renzo Bezan so dearly himself — had learned to
think so constantly of him, and to regard him
with such freindly consideration, that no influence
of pride could in the least affect him ; and though
he had sufBcient penetration to pierce through
the subject so far as to realize that his dearly
loved friend regarded his sister with a most ar-
dent and absorbing love, he could not exactly
understand the proud heart of Isabella, which,
save for its pride, would so freely return the con-
demned soldier's affection.
Well, time passed on in its ever-varying
round. Lorenzo Bezan was on his way to Spain,
and Isabella and her brother filling nearly the
same round of occupation, either of amusement
or self-imposed duty. Occasionally General
Harero called ; but this was put a stop to, at
last, by Ruez's pertinently asking him one even-
ing how he came to order the execution of Lo-
renzo Bezan to take place a full hour before the
period announced in the regular sentence signed
by the governor-general !
Ruez was not the first person who had put this
question to him, and he felt sore about it, for
even Tacon himself had reprimanded him for
the deed. Thus realizing that his true character
was known to Don Gonzales and his family, he
gave up the hope of winning Isabella Gonzales,
or rather the hope of sharing her father's rich
coffers, and quietly withdrewhimself from afield
of action where he had gained nothing, but had
lost much, both as it regarded this family, and,
owing to his persecution of Captain Bezan, that
of the army.
Isabella Gonzales became thoughtful and mel-
ancholy without exactly knowing why. She
avoided company, and often incurred her father's
decided displeasure by absenting herself from
the drawing-room when there were visitors of
importance. She seemed to be constantly in a
dreamy and moody state, and avoided all her for-
mer haunts and companions. A skilful observer
might have told her the cause of all tliis, and yet,
strange to say, so blind did her pride render her,
that she could not see, or at least never acknow-
ledged even to herself, that the absent soldier had
aught to do with it.
Had not Isabella Gonzales treated Lorenzo
Bezan as she did at their last meeting, he would
never have accepted the governor-generars par-
don on the terms offered, nor life itself, if it sep-
arated him from her he loved. But as it was,
he seemed to feel that life had lost its charm,
ambition its incentive for him, and he cast him-
self forth upon the troubled waters witliout com-
pass or rudder. And it w^as precisely in this
spirit that he found himself upon the deck of the
vessel, whose white wings were wafting him now
across the ocean.
He, too, was misanthropic and unhappy ; he
tried to reason with liimself that Isabella Gon-
zales was not worthy to render him thus miser-
able; that she was a coquette — an unfeeling,
though beautiful girl ; that even had he succeed-
ed, and fortune favored him in his love, she
would not have loved him as his heart craved to
be loved. But all this sophistry was overthrown
in a moment by the memoiy of one dear glance,
when Isabella, off her guard, and her usual hau-
teur of manner for the instant, had looked
through her eyes the whole truthfulness of her
soul ; in short, when her heart, not her head,
had spoken !
Alas ! how few of us feel as we do; how few
do as yvejeel !
Perhaps there is no better spot than on ship-
board for a dreamer to be ; he has then plenty
of time, plenty of space, plenty of theme, and
every surrounding, to turn his thoughts inward
upon himself. Lorenzo Bezan found this so.
At times he looked down into the still depths of
the blue water, and longed for the repose that
seemed to look up to him from below the waves.
He had thought, perhaps, too long upon this
subject one soft, calm evening, and had indeed
forgotten himself, as it were, and another mo-
ment would have seen the working of what
seemed a sort of irresistible charm to him, and
he would have cast himself into that deep, invit-
ing oblivion !
Then a voice seemed to whisper Isabella's
name in his ear! He started, looked about him,
and awoke from the fearful charm that held him.
It was his good angel that breathed that name to
him then, and saved him from the curse of the
suicide !
From that hour a strange feeling seemed to
possess the young soldier. Like him in Shaks-
peare's " Seven Ages," he passed from love to
ambition. A new charm seemed to awake to him
in the futm-e, not to the desertion of his love, nor
yet exactly to its promotion. An indefinite idea
seemed to move him that he must win fame, glory
and renown ; and yet he hardly paused to think
what the end of these would be ; whether they
would ultimately bring him nearer to the proud
girl of his hopes and his love. Fame rang in his
ears ; the word seemed to fire his veins ; he was
humble — he must be honord ; he was poor — he
must be rich ; he was unknown — he must be re-
nowned ! With such thoughts as these, his
pulses beat quick-;r, his eye flashed, and his cheek
became flushed, and then one tender thought of
Isabella would change every current, and almost
moisten those bloodshot eyes with tears. Would
to God that Lorenzo Bezan could now but slicd
a tear — what gentle yet substantial relief it would
have alforded him.
Tliuji was the exiled soldier influenced; while
Isabella Gonzales was, as we have seen, still liv-
ing on under the veil of her pride ; unalile, ap-
parently, for one single moment to draw tlie cur-
tain, and look with naked eye upon the real pic-
ture of her feelings, actions, and honest affec-
tions. She felt, plain enough, that she was mis-
erable ; indeed the flood of tears she daily shed
betrayed this to her. But her proud Castilian
blood was the phase through wliich alone she saw,
or could see. It was impossible for her to banish
Lorenzo Bezan from her mind; butyct she stout-
ly refused to admit, even to herself, that she re-
garded him with affection — lie, a lowly soldier,
a child of the camp, a myrmidon of fortune — he
a fit object for the love of Isabella Gonzales, the
belle of Havana, to whom princes had bowed 1
Preposterous !
Her brother, whose society she seemed to
crave more than ever, said nothing; he did not
even mention the name of the absent one, but
he secretly moaned for him, until the pale color
that had slightly tinged his cheek began to fade,
and Don Gonzales trembled for the boy's life.
It was his second bereavement. His mother's
loss, scarcely yet outgrown, had tried his gentle
heart to its utmost tension ; this new bereave-
ment to his sensitive mind, seemed really too
much for him. A strange sympathy existed be-
tween Isabella and theboy, who, though Lorenzo
Bezan's name was never mentioned, yet seemed
to know what each other was thinking of.
But in the meantime, while these feelings were
actuating Isabella and her brother at Havana,
Lorenzo Bezan had reached Cadiz, and was on
his way to the capital of Spain, Madrid.
CHAPTER SI.
THE PROMOTION.
We have already given the reader a sufficient
idea of Lorenzo Bezan, for him to understand that
he was a person possessed of more than ordinary
manliness and personal beauty. A distinguished
and chivalric bearing was one of his main char-
acteristics, and you could hardly have passed
him in a crowd, without noting his fine manly
physical appearance, and strikingly intelligent
features. Pired with the new ambition which
we have referred to in the closing of the last
chapter, Lorenzo Bezan arrived in the capital of
his native land, ready and eager to engage in
any enterprise that called for bravery and daring,
and which in return promised honor and prefer-
ment.
Tacon, governor-general of Cuba, had marked
his qualities well, and therefore wrote by the
same conveyance that took the young soldier to
Spain, to the head of the war department, and
told them of what stuff he was composed, and
hinted at the possibility of at once placing him
in the line of his rank, and of giving him, if pos-
sible, active service to perform. Tacon's opin-
ion and wishes were highly respected at Madrid,
and Lorenzo Bezan found himself at once placed
in the very position he would have desired — the
command of as fine a company of the regular
service as the army could boast, and his rank
and position thoroughly restored.
There was just at that period a revolt of the
southern and westeni provinces of Spain, which,
owing to inactivity on the part of government,
had actually ripened into a regularly organized
rebellion against the throne. News at last
reached the queen that regular bodies of troops
had been raised and enlisted, under well known
leaders, and that unless instant efforts were made
to suppress the rising, the whole country would
be shortly involved in civil war. In this emer-
gency the troops, such as could be spared, were
at once detached from the capital and sent to
various points in the disaffected region to quell
the outbreak. Among the restwas the company
of Lorenzo Bezan and two others of the same
regiment, and being the senior officer, young as
he was, he was placed in command of the bat-
talion, and the post to which he was to march at
once, into the very heart of the disaffected dis-
trict.
Having arrived in the neighborhood of the
spot to which his orders had directed him, he
threw his whole force, some less than three hun-
dred men, into one of the old Moorish fortifica-
tions, still extant, and Avith the provisions and
ammunition he had brouglit with him, entrenched
himself, and prepared to scour and examine the
surrounding country. HJs spies soon brought
him intelligence of the defeat of two similar com-
mands to his own, sent out at the same time to
meet the insurgents ; and, also, that their partial
success had very naturally elated them in tho
highest degree. TImt they were regularly or-
ganized into regiments, with tlieir stands of col-
ors, and proper officers, and that one regiment
had been sent to take the fort where he was, and
would shortly be in tlie ncighliorhood.
Lorenzo Bezan was a thorough Koldicr; he
looked to the details of all tlie plans and orders
he issued, so that when the enemy appeared in
sight, they found him ready to receive them.
Thoy were fully thrice liis number, but they had
a bad cause and poor leaders, and he feared not
for the result. On they came, in the fullness of
confidence, after liaving already participated in
two victories over the regular troops ; but ihcy
had, tliough a younger, yet a far better and more
courageous officer to deal with in Captain Bezan.
The fight was long and bloody, but ere night
came on the insurgents were compelled to retire,
after having lost nearly one tliird of their num-
ber in the contest.
The camp of the insurgents was pitched some
half mile from the old fort occupied by Captain
Bezan and his followers, just beneath the brow
of a slicltering undulation of ground. Night
overshadowed the field, and it was still as death
over the battle field, when Captain Bezan, sum-
moning his followers, told them that the enemy
lay yonder in sleep; they could not anticipate a
sally, and from a confidential spy he had ascer-
tained that they had not even set a sentinel.
" I shall lead you out this night to attack them ;
take only your weapons. If we are defeated, we
shall want nothing more ; if victorious, we shall
retura to our post and our munitions."
He had lost scarcely two score of his men in
the fight, protected as they were by the walls of
the fortress, while the besiegers were entirely
exposed to the fire of musketry, and the two
small cannon they had brought with them, and
so they entered into the daring plan of their com-
mander with the utmost zeal. They were in-
sti-ucted as to the plan more fully, and at mid-
night, as the last rays of the moon sank below
the horizon, they quietly filed forth from the
fortress and turned towards the insurgents' camp.
Slowly and silently they stole across the plain,
without note of drum or fife, and headed by their
young commander, until they reached the brow
of the little elevation, beyond which the enemy
lay sleeping, some in tents, some on the open
field, and all unguarded.
The signal was given, and the small band of
disciplined men fell upon the camp. Lorenzo
Bezan with some fifty picked followers sought
the head quarters of the camp, and having fought
their way thither, possessed themselves of the
standards, and made prisoner of the leader of
the body of insm'gents, and ere the morning sun
had risen, the camp was deserted, the enemy, to-
tally defeated, had fled, or been taken prisoners
and bound, and the victorious little band of the
queen's troops were again housed within the
walls of the fortress.
But their fighting was not to end here ; a sec-
ond body of the enemy, incensed as much by the
loss of their comrades as elated by various victo-
ries over other detachments of the anny, fell
upon them ; but they were met with such deter-
mined spirit and bravery, and so completely did
Lorenzo Bezan infuse his own manly and re-
solved spirit into the hearts of his followers, that
the second comers were routed, their banners
taken, and themselves dispersed. These two vic-
tories, however, had cost him dear; half his little
gallant band had lost their lives, and there were
treble their number of prisoners securely confined
within the fortress.
Fresh troops were despatched, in reply to his
courier, to escort these to the capital, and an or-
der for himself and the rest of his command to«
return to Madrid, forthwith. This sunjmons
was of course complied with, and marching the
remnant of his command to the capital, Captain
Bezan reported himself again at head quarters.
Here he found his services had been, if possible,
overrated, and liimself quite lionized. A major's
commission awaited him, and the thanks of the
queen were expressed to him by the head of the
department.
"A major, — one step is gained," said the
young soldier, to himself; "one round in the
ladder of fame has been surmounted ; my cyea
are now bent upward !"
And how he dreamed that night of Cuba, of
rank and wealth, and the power and position
they conferred — and still his eyes icerebent tipiccud !
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DEAWIXG ROOM COMPANION.
83
WitU a brief period permitted for him to rest
and recover from slight wounds received in his
late battles, Lorenzo, now Major Bezan, was
again ordered to the scene of trouble in the
southern district, where the insurgents, more
successful with older officers sent against them,
had been again victorious, and were e\'idently
gaining ground, both in strength of purpose and
numbers. This time he took with him a full
command of four companies, little less than four
hundred men, and departed under far better aus-
pices than he had done before, resolved, as at
the outset, to lead his men where work was to be
done, and to lead them, too, on to victory or
utter destniction ! It was a fearful resolve ; but
in his present state of feelings it accorded with
the spirit that seemed to actuate his soul.
But success does not always crown the most
daring bravery, and twice were Lorenzo Bezan
and his followers worsted, though in no way dis-
couraged. But at last, after many weeks of toil
and hardship, he was again victorious, again
routed twice his OAvn number, again captured a
stand of colors, and again despatched his trophies
to the feet of his queen. The civil war then be-
came general, and for nearly a year Lorenzo
Bezan and his followers were in the battle field.
Victory seemed to have marked him for a favor-
ite, and his sword seemed invincible ; wherever
he led, he infused his own daring and impetuous
spirit into the hearts of his followers, and where
his plume waved in the fight, there the enemy
faltered.
A second and third victory crowned him with
another promotion, and a colonel's commission
was sent to the adventurous soldier after the hard
fought battles he had won for the queen. Once
more he paused, and whispered to himself:
" Another round in the ladder is gained ! have
patience, Lorenzo Bezan ; fame may yet be
thine ; she is thy only bride now ; alas, alas,
that it should be so ! that there cannot be one —
one dearer than all the world beside — to share
with thee this renown and honor, this fame won
by the sword on the field of battle ; one whose
gentleness and love should be the pillow on
which to rest thy head and heart after the tur-
moil and whirlwind of war has subsided !"
Scarcely a year had transpired since the con-
demned soldier had been banished from Cuba,
and now from a captaincy he had risen to wear
the star of a colonel. No wonder, then, that he
thus soliloquized to himself upon the theme of
which he dreamed.
The life he led, the fierce contests he engaged in,
had no effect in hardening the heart of the young
soldier ; one thought, one single word, when he
permitted himself to pause and look back upon
the past, would change his whole spirit, and al-
most render him effeminate. At times his
thoughts, spite of himself, wandered far away
over the blue waters to that sunny isle of the
tropics, where Isabella Gonzales dwelt, and then
his manly heart would heave more quickly, and
his pulses beat swifter ; and sometimes a tear
had wet his cheek as he rec?.lled the memory of
Euez, whom he had really loved nearly as well
as he had done his proud and beautiful sister.
The boy's nature, so gentle, affectionate and
truthful, and yet in emergency so manly and
venturesome, as evinced in his drawing the bul-
lets from the guns that would else have taken
the life of Lorenzo Bezan, was a theme of oft re-
called admiration and regard to the young soldier.
Though he felt in his heart that Isabella Gon-
zales could never love him, judging from the
cold farewell that had at last separated them,
still fame seemed dear to him on her account,
because it seemed to bring him nearer to her, if
not to raise a hope in his heart that she might
one day be his. At times, in the lonely hours
of the night, alone in his tent, he would apostro-
phize her angelic features, and sigh that Heaven,
which had sent so sweet a mould in human form,
should have imbued it with a spirit so haughty,
a soul so proud as to mar the exquisite creation.
" I have thought," he mused to himself, " that
I knew her — that the bright loveliness of her soul
would dazzle and outshine the pride that chance
had sown there — that if boldly and truly wooed,
she would in turn boldly and truly love. It
seemed to me, that it was the first bamer only that
imist be carried by assault, and after that I felt
sure that love like mine would soon possess the
citadel of her heart. But I was foolish, self-
confident, and perhaps have deserved defeat. It
may be so, but Isabella Gonzales shall see that
the humble captain of infantry, who would hard-
ly be tolerated, so lowly and humble was he, will
command, ere long, at least, some degree of re-
spect by the position that his sword shall win
for him. Ay, and General Harero, too, may
find rae composed of better metal than he sup-
posed. There is one truthful, gentle and loving
spirit that will sympathize with me. I know
and feel that ; Ruez, my boy, may Heaven bless
thee !"
" Count Basterio, what sort of a person is this
Colonel Bezan, whose sword has been invincible
among the rebels, and who has sent us two stand
of colors, taken by himself^" asked the queen,
of one of her principal courtiers, one day.
" Your majesty, I have never seen him," an-
swered the count, " but I'm told he's a grim old
war-horse, covered with scars gained in your
majesty's service."
"Just as I had thought he must be," continued
the queen, " but some one intimated to us yes-
terday that he was young, quite young, and of
noble family, Count Basterio."
"He has displayed too much knowledge of
warfare to be very young, your majesty," said
the count, "and has performed prodigies during
this revolt, with only a handful of men."
" That is partly what has so much interested
me. I sent to the war office yesterday to know
about him, and it was only recorded that he had
been sent from Cuba. None of the heads of the
department remembered to have seen him at all."
" I saw by the Gazette that he would return to
Madrid with his regiment to-day," said the count,
" when, if your majesty desires it, I will seek
out this Colonel Bezan, and bring him to you."
" Do so ; for we would know all our subjects
who are gallant and deserving, and I am sure
this officer must be both, from what I have al-
ready been able to leani."
" Your wish shall be obeyed, your majesty,"
said the obsequious courtier, bowing low, and
turning to a lady of the court, hard by, began
to chat about how this old " son of a gun," this
specimen of the battle-field would be astonished
at the presence of his queen.
" He's all covered with scars, you say V asked
one of the ladies.
" Ay, senorita, from his forehead to his very
feet," was the reply.
" It will be immensely curious to see him ;
but he must look terrifically."
" That's true," added the count; "he's griz-
zly and rough, but very honest."
" Can't you have him muzzled," suggested a
gay little senorita, smiling.
" Never fear for his teeth, I wear a rapier,"
added the count, pompously.
" But seriously, whereas he from V
" Of some good family in the middle province,
I understand."
" 0, he's a gentleman, then, and not a pro-
fessional cut-throat V asked another.
" I believe so," said the courtier.
" That's some consolation," was the rejoinder
to the count's reply.
While the merits of Lorenzo Bezan were thus
being discussed, he was marching his regiment
towards the capital, after a year's campaign of
hard fighting ; and the Gazette was right in its
announcement, for he entered the capital on the
evening designated, and occupied the regularly
assigned ban-acks for his men.
CHAPTER Xn.
THE QUEEN AND THE SOLDIER.
It was a noble and brilliant presence into
which Lorenzo Bezan was summoned on the day
following his arrival from the seat of war. Dons
and senoras of proud titles and rich estates, the
high officials of the court, the prime minister,
the maids of honor, the gayly dressed pages,
and men-at-arms, all combined to render the
scene one of most striking effect.
The young soldier was fresh from the field ;
hard service and exposure had deepened the
olive tint of his clear complexion to a deep nut
brown, and his beard was unshaven, and gave a
fine classical eff"ect to his handsome but melan-
choly features. The bright clearness of his
intelligent eye seemed to those who looked upon
him there, to reflect the battles, sieges and victo-
ries that the gallant soldier had so lately partici-
pated in. Though neat and clean in appear-
ance, the somewhat sudden summons he had
received, led him to appear before the court in
his battle dress, and the same sword hung by his
side that had so often reeked with the enemy's
blood, and flashed in the van of battle.
There was no hauteur in his bearing ; his form
was erect and military ; there was no self-suffi-
ciency or pride in his expression ; but a calm,
steady purpose of soul alone was revealed by the
countenance that a hundred curious eyes now
gazed upon. More than one heart beat quicker
among the lovely throng of ladies, as they gazed
upon the young hero. More than one kindly
glance was bestowed upon him ; but he was im-
pervious to the shafts of Cupid ; he could never
suff^er again ; he could love but one, and she was
far away from here.
Lorenzo Bezan had never been at court. True
that his father, and indeed his elder brother, and
other branches of the house had the entree at
court ; but his eaxdy connection with the army,
and a naturally retiring disposition, had pre-
vented his ever having been presented, and he
now stood there for the first time. The queen
was not present when he first entered, but she
now appeared and took her seat of state. Un-
taught in court etiquette, yet it came perfectly
natural for Lorenzo Bezan to kneel before her
majesty, which he did immediately, and was
graciously bidden to rise.
" Count Basterio," said the queen, " where is
thi^ Colonel Bezan, wliom you were to bring to
us to-day ? have you forgotten your commission,
sir?"
" Your majesty, he stands before you," replied
the complaisant courtier.
" Where, count ?"
" Your majesty, here," said the courtier, point-
ing more directly to our hero.
" This youth, this Colonel Bezan ? I had
thought to sec an older person," said the queen,
gazing curiously upon the fine and noble fea-
tures of the young soldier.
" I trust that my age may be of no detriment
to me as it regards your majesty's good feelings
towards me," said Lorenzo Bezan, respectfully.
"By no means, sir; you have served us gal-
lantly in the field, and your bravery and good
judgment in battle have highly commended them-
selves to our notice."
" I am little used, your majesty, to courtly
presence, and find that even now I have come
hither accoutred as I would have ridden on to
the field of battle ; but if a heart devoted to the
service of your majesty, and a willing hand to
wield this trusty weapon, are any excuses in
your sight, I trust for lenient judgment at your
royal hands."
" A brave soldier needs no excuse in our pres-
ence, Colonel Bezan," replied the queen, warm-
ly. " When we have heard of your prowess in
the field, and have seen the stands of colors you
have taken from the enemy, far outnumbering
your own force, we have thought you were some
oJdei- follower of the bugle and the drum — some
hardy and gray old soldier, whose life had been
spent in his country's service, and therefore
when wc find a soldier like yourself, so young,
and yet so wise, we were surprised."
" Your majesty has made too much of my
poor deserts. Already have I been twice noticed
by honorable and high promotion in rank, and
wear this emblem to-day by your majesty's gra-
cious favor." As he spoke, he touched hij
colonel's star.
" For your bravery and important services.
Captain Bezan, wear this next that star for the
present," said the queen, presenting the young
soldier with the medal and order of St. Sebas-
tian, a dignity that few attained to of less dis-
tinction than her privy councillors and the im-
mediate officers of the government.
Surprised by this unexpected and marked
honor, the young soldier could only kneel and
thank her majesty in feeble words, which he did,
and pressing the token to his lips, he placed it
about his neck by the golden chain that had sup-
ported it but a moment before upon the lovely
person of his queen. The presence was broken
up, and Lorenzo Bezan returned to his ban-acks,
reflecting upon his singular good fortune.
His modest demeanor, his brilliant military
services, his handsome face and figure, and in
short his many noble points of manliness ; and
perhaps even the slight tinge of melancholy that
seemed ever struggling with all the emotions
that shone forth from his expressive face, had
more deeply interested the young queen in his
behalf than the soldier himself knew of. He
knew nothing of the envy realized by many
of the courtiers when they saw the queen present
him with the medal taken from her own neck,
and that, too, of an order so distinguished as
St. Sebastian.
" Wliat sort of spirit has befriended you.
Colonel Bezan V said one of his early friends ;
" luck seems to lavish her efforts upon you."
" I hare been lucky," replied the soldier.
" Lucky ! the whole court rings with your
praise, and the queen delights to honor you."
" The queen has doubly repaid my poor ser-
vices," continued the young officer.
" Where will you stop, colonel V
" Stop V
"Yes; when will you have done with promo-
tion ? — at a general's commission V
" No fear of that honor being very quickly
tendered to me," was the reply; while at the
same moment he secretly felt how much he
should delight in every step that raised him in
rank, and thus entitled him to position and
honor.
Such conversations were not unfrequent ; for
those who did not particularly envy him, were
still much surprised at his vapid growth in
favor with the throne, his almost magic success
in battle, and delighted at the prompt reward
which he met in payment for the exei-cise of
those qualities which they could not themselves
but honor.
Scarcely had he got off" his fighting harness,
so to speak, before he found himself the object of
marked attention by the nobility and members
of the court. Invitations from all sources were
showered upon him, and proud and influential
houses, with rich heiresses to represent them,
were among those who sought to interest the
attention if not tlie heart of the young but rising
soldier — be whom the queen had so markedly
befriended. Her majesty, too, seemed never
tired of interesting herself in his behalf, and
already had several delicate commissions been
entrusted to his charge, and performed with the
success that seemed sure to crown his simplest
efforts.
So far as courtesy required, Colonel Bezan
responded to every invitation and every exten-
sion of hospitality; but though beset by such
beauty as the veiled prophet of Khorassan
tempted young Azim with, still he passed un-
scathed through the trial of star-lit eyes and fe-
male loveliness, always bending, but never break-
ing; for his heart would still wander over the
sea to the vision of her, who, to him, was
far more beautiful than aught his fancy had pic-
tured, or his eyes had seen. All seemed to feel
that some tender secret possessed him, and all
were most anxious as to what it was. Even the
queen had spoken of it ; but it was a delicate
subject, and not to be spoken of lightly to him.
Lorenzo Bezan had most mysteriously found
the passage to the queen's good graces, and she
delighted to honor him by important commis-
sions ; so two years had not yet passed away,
when the epaulets of a general were presented to
the young and ambitious soldier ! Simply out-
ranked now by General Harero, who had so per-
secuted him, in point of the date of his commis-
sion, he far outstretched that selfish officer in
point of the honors that had been confeiTcd upon
him by the throne ; and being now economical
with the handsome professional income he en-
joyed, he was fast amassing a pecuniary fortune
that of itself was a matter of no small import-
ance, not only to himself, but also in the eyes of
the world.
Among the courtiers he had already many
enemies, simply because of his rise and prefer-
ment, and he was known as the favorite of the
queen. Some even hinted darkly that she en-
tertained for him feelings of a more tender nature
than the court knew of, and that his promotion
would not stop at a general's commission, and
perhaps not short of commander-in-chief of the
armies of Spain. But such persons knew noth-
ing to warrant these surmises ; they arose from
the court gossip, day by day, and only gained
importance from being often repeated.
" She delights to honor him," said one lady to
another, in the queen's ante-chamber.
" Count Basterio says that he will be made
prime minister within a twelvemonth."
" The count is always extravagant," replied
the other, " and I think that General Bezan richly
merits the honors he veceives. He is so modest,
yet brave and unassuming."
" That is tme, and I'm sure I don't blame the
queen for repaying his important services. But
he doesn't seem to have any heart himself."
" Why not ? He treats all with more than or-
dinary courtesy, and has a voice and manner to
win almost any heart he wills. But some dark
hints are thro'tvoi out about him."
" In what respect, as having already been in
love 7" asked the other lady.
" Yes, and the tender melancholy that every
one notices, is owing to disappointed afi'ection."
[to be continued.]
84
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
MONSIEUR AND M'liLE. I>UPUE/.
Our engraving presents ULCiirate likenesscH of
M. Diiprez, the eclebrutccl tenor ningcr, and hisi
tliuigliter Caroline, who hns veryhitely nnulo her
dohiitwith ft .siicecKBwhieh has excited the wliolo
musical world. Caroline l^uprez was Ijorn in
Florence, at a period wlien her fatlier was in the
height of a l)riHiaiit artistie career, l)L-fuie he en-
teied on that series of triumphs wliidi csliiMishcd
his reputation in France. Her godinotlier was
Caroline Ungucr, one of the most eminent Hing-
cra of the modern Italian school, a circumstanee
which the superstitious Italians thought fraught
with good fortune for the infant. She was hardly
a year old, wlien, at Naples, the city of sweet
melodies, occurred the first representation of
lAicia de Lammermoor. Donizetti composed the
work with a kindled imagination, just after a
sojourn at Paris, where he Iiad writ-
ten his Marino Faliero, which coun-
terbalanced, for ft moment, the suc-
cess of UcUini's Jl Pmitani, but with-
out surpassing it. He was to indem-
nify himself on renching Naples. He
dill so in the most glorious manner.
Although more tlian sixteen years
have intervened, the Neapolitans, so
forgetful by nature, cannot recount,
without warm emotion, tlie various
episodes of the evening on which
Xiucift was performed for the first
time, at the San Carlo. Tliose who
were children then, and did not wit-
ness the representation, and have
since grown up to young men, repeat
the story as a tradition handed down
from sire to son, with a sort of na-
tional pride. After having told you
the infinite number of times the com-
poser was called upon the stage dur-
ing the course of the representation,
they hasten to tell you of the pro-
found sensation, the unexampled en-
thusiasm excited in all parts of that
immense house, both by the sonorous
power of voice, and the masterly
manner of managing it, and the ac-
tion, so full of fire and dramatic feel-
ing, displayed by the tenor, for whom
the principal part had been written.
This was Duprez, the father of little
Caroline, and the latter was literally ^
lulled in her cradle, by the tender,
expressive, passionate and delicious
tones of those songs which nightly
transported to a paroxysm of excite-
ment, an innumerable audience of
burning hearts and sympathetic
minds. Such was the highly favored
position of M'Ue. Caroline Duprez,
in her earliest years, and that alone
will explain how, at less than eighteen
years of age, she has presented her-
self before the public with a talent so
perfectly accomplished in every re-
spect. The emission of her voice is
of astonishing firmness, her vocaliza-
tion the boldest and most skillful to
be met with ; her action evinces a rare
dramatic intelligence, her face one
of the very prettiest, and charming
from that sweet and innocent expres-
sion only seen at her age, but yet in-
terpreting with an art which seems
like science, various and most
delicate shades, movements of the
soul, aspirations of happiness, hope,
melancholy, joy, deception, despair
and madness. In a word, one cannot
imagine a bride of Lammermoor
more according to the soul of the
poet who created her. We fear we
have not said enough yet. It was in
the part of Lucia that M'Ue. Caro-
line Duprez made her first appear-
ance before the dilettanti of the Salle
Ventadour, in the same part whose
melodies she had doubtless murmur-
ed at the same time when a child be-
gins to utter its first articulate sounds.
The surprise and pleasure of those
who witnessed that first appearance
are described as unbounded. The ap-
plauses burst forth many times dur-
ing the first air that Lucia sings, and
wei'C renewed with greater energy on
the entrance of Edgardo ; Duprez
himself sustained this part. When
he appeared he was applauded, not
only as a great artist and excellent,
hut as the happy father, both in na-
ture and talent, of the new singer, so
young and yet so distinguished, who
received on that occasion her artistic
baptism. The frequenters of the
Italian Theatre will long preserve the remem-
brance of that evening of January, 1851. The
presentation of M'Ue. Caroline Duprez to the
public by her father, will long mark the annals
of the lyric theatre, we hope, as did two similar
occurrences — the daughter of Garcia, and the
daughter of Tacchinardi, both taking their first
steps on the stage under the auspices of their
fathers; one in London, in 1825, in // j5nr6/cre
^the other, in Italy, in Tancredi. One, it is
well known, became the illustrious Maria Mali-
bran, and the other, Madame Persiani. Mali-
bran, it will be remembered, soon after her tri-
umphant debut in Europe, came to this country,
and was for a long time the prhna donna of the
Itq,]ian opera company of New York. We had
Gnjr,ye(J tl)C pleasure of a visit from the most
distinguished vQCftlj:?ts 9f the ago ■ and after se-
curing for a season the Swedish ijigljtingale,
there is no talent that vi/e cannot hope to woo to
our shores. The inatability of afl^airs fij:' Eipbpc
liMids foreign artists to turn their eyes more fre-
quently than formerly to our sliorcs, and the
generous reception univerHally given iiy Ameri-
cans to talent, has had its full wciglit with for-
eign musical professors. Wo trust that some of
our enterprising managers will be induced to
make sucii offers to Caroline Duprez and her
father, as will induce tliem to pay us a visit he-
fore long. It will be a rare treat to enjoy the
voice of Caroline in all its youth and freshness,
and to witness her personations before she be-
comes hackneyed to the stage. She is evidently
a prodigy of talent. "If," writes one of her
enthusiastic admirei'S, "it were possible, in our
dull matter-of-fact days, to admit yet the exist-
ence of fairies, we .should say that the most be-
neficent and most generous had united at the
moment of her birth, around the cradle of the
WONDERFUL CAVE IN CALIFOKNIA.
Calaveras county seems to abound in natin-al
curiosities, as there are many caves well worth
visiting in this part of the country. The great
prevalence of limestone in our ranges of hills
will tniturally account for those interesting for-
mations. Lately, I availed myself of the offer
of a kind friend to conduct me to one of them,
and was mut;h pleased with my visit — althougli,
I am sorry to say, that visitors seem to emulate
each other in their zeal to deform and deface
what should be most carefully guarded and pro-
tected. The cave to wliich I allude is situated
about a mile from town, on the south bank of
the South Branch of Sutter Creek. The en-
trance is through a small opening in the hill,
just sufficient to admit a man's body. The de-
scent is easy, the many projections of the rock
MONSIEUR AND MADEMOISELLE DUPREZ.
young girl who lias just made her appearance at
the Italian Theatre."
THE ANJOES.
The range of mountains called the Andes
or Cordilleras extends 4300 miles along the
coast of the Pacific Ocean, from the Isthmus of
Panama to the Straits of Magellan. The highest
peak is Sorato, in Bolivia, which has been ascer-
tained to be 25,250 feet above the level of the sea.
Tills is the highest peak of land in the world,
with one single exception, that of Jahavah,
one of the peaks of the flimmalah Mountains in
Asia, It is supposed by many that the Cordil-
leras of Mexico are, together with the Rocky
Mountains, part of the chain of the Andes. The
highest volcanic peak in the world is that of
Cotopaxi, one of the peaks of the Andes, near
Chlmborazo. Volcanic mountains are generally
polated, and nearly all solitary mountains are
yglcanig.-— Geographical Hesearo/ies.
affording ample means for safe footing. Neither
is it of very great depth, the top of the platform
not being more than ten feet from the entrance,
whence it slopes gently down till the centre is
reached, forming a chamber of about thirty feet
high and about fifty long. The floor is com-
posed of octagons of calcareous formation, along
Avhich, in a narrow bed, silently glides a crystal
stream, rising from a spring in one of the lateral
chambers. The roof is divided into compart-
ments, the centre being a large circle, from
which depend clusters of stalactites of every va-
riety, of (1 variegated hue, as if tinged by color-
ing matter, some crystalline, others opacpie,
while some partake of the rock through whieli
they have percolated, The groining of the roof
is as perfect as if moulded by the hand of art,
terminating in maesive pillm-s, with riclily-
adorned capitals, strongly reminding one of an
ancient Gothic cathedral. From the main cham-
ber branch two galleries, J<;ading into email
ajiartments, rich in groups of the most fanciful
petrifaction, varying from the massive block to
the delicate and finely-pointed crystalline needle.
At the entrance of tlic cave, our party had the
pleasure of meeting with one of tlie merchants
of our village, accompanied by his amiable and
lovely lady, whose presence added much to our
enjoyment of this romantic retreat, and whose
sparkling wit suggested many pertinent and
beautiful illustrations of the suiTOunding scene.
To this lady the party were indebted for a rich
musical treat, as, witli fairy wand, she liglitly
and gracefully touched the sparkling pendants,
producing melody of the softest and most ex-
quisite sounds. The effect of the wliolc was
greatly enhanced by the flashing of the torches,
now reflected by a thousand glittering cones,
and again seen away in the deep recess of the
cavern, casting a lurid glare on their
hearers, as, crawling low, they vainly
endeavored to penetrate the secret re-
cesses of the genii of the place. It is
much to be regretted that modern
Vandalism should have so merciless-
ly disfigured this cave ; but I suppose
wc should rather tliank tiiem for per-
mitting any traces to remain, and
that it has not long since been blown
to fragments in the avaricious search
for gold. — California Tourist.
FAK3IER8' WIVES.
The farmers of this country occupy
a position of honor and usefulness.
They are tlie source of a nation's
wealth and prosperity, and by their
vote and influence can, at any mo-
ment, decide its destiny. Farmers'
wives occupy a position of corres-
ponding importance in our country's
history ; they are and have been the
mothers of the men whom our nation
delights to lionor, whose voice of wis-
dom and warning is heard in our na-
tional councils. Lebanon shorn of
its stately cedars would be her sad
emblem, were our land bereaved of
the pati-iotic and heroic men whose
early youth was associated with rural
scenes, with woods and streams, and
the bird-voices that filled the air
with melody. But the sweet voice
that stilled the cry of infancy, the
kind hand that led them to the altar
of prayer, the counsels that conducted
them in the path of wisdom, the in-
fluence that developed their moral
nature — these were the pledges and
presages of their future greatness.
The wives of our farmers, whose
thrift and industry have secured for
their husbands a competence, whose
intelligence is the light of the social
circle, and whose piety is the guardi-
an of domestic peace, are emphati-
cally " the mothers of our men." A
failure in the country — with all the
opportunities of success, away from
all the moral contaminations of a
crowded city, amid the free and re-
freshing winds, among all that is
pure and poetic in nature, amid all
that is suggestive of truth and beauty,
and all that is bountiful and beauti-
ful in agricultural pursuits and suc-
cess— rightly to train up children,
should awaken the voice of instructive
warning. There may have been no
failure in accumulating wealth, none
in making home beautiful and taste-
ful to the eye ; but the failure has
been where it is most fatal, in train-
ing the heart and directing the foot-
steps of childhood. There may have
been lavish expenditure to gratify
fashion and perverted taste, but little
care to develop the intellect and train
the heart. There may have been ef-
fort to teach children to sing, play,
and dance well, but none to make
them useful, virtuous and happy.
Hence the failure, and the need of
warning. There is a tendency in
these days of wealth and luxury
among our farmers, to imitate the
ostentation of fashionable city life.
We wage no war against refinement.
We are not averse to the elegancies
of life ; but to train up our daughters
only to shine in the parlor, to play
the guitar and speak correctly the
French accent, and our sons to de-
spise the honest toil of the husband-
man, to feel that they must aspire to
a profession, if they would be men :
this is a sin not to pass unrebuked. Our fathers,
who laid the foundation of our nation's great-
ness, were the humble tillers of the soil ; and
many who liave plowed the field and sowed the
seed, have risen to guide the affairs of state, to
hold converse with the muse, or, to sweep with
a Milton's hand, the harp-strings. Our mothers,
whose names and heroic deeds are immortal,
cultivated the domestic virtues, plied the loom
and needle, and made the garments of the men
whose names are associated with the heroism of
the past. We must look still to fai'raers' wives,
who are blessed with children, for the men of
strong frames, of iron nerves and heroic hearts,
to accomplish our nation's destiny. Let them
not be recreant to their high trust. If they fail,
to whom shall we look for the men, and the wo-
men, that shall be worthy to steady the ark of
God, and train the coming generation for use-
fulness in the world, and blessedness in hoaven.
— Southern paper.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
85
SALT WORKS AT SALINES, Am> FORT ST. ANDRE, FRANCE.
VIEW OF THE SALT WORKS,
AT SALlXliS, AND FORT ST. AKDKE.
Salines, in the department of Jura, France, is
a very old toivn of 7500 inhabitants, and has
only a sinp:le street, compressed betn'een two
sharp-ridged and abrupt mountains. It is built
at the entrance of a fertile valley, on the slope of
a hill, at the foot of which runs the river Furipuse
(Furious). The centre of the town is occupied
by the vast establishment of salt works, sur-
rounded by thick walls and flanked by towers.
The springs, to a large number, arfi enclosed
within, under immense arches, whose date seems
to go back to the fifth centm-y. Steps lead down
to this subterranean region, which is of consider-
able extent, and undermines the bed of the I'U-
rieuse, a stream from which serves to put in mo-
tion the hydraulic machines employed in the
establishment. In the month of July, 1825, the
town of Salines was entirely destroyed by a ter-
rible fire, but has been rebuilt by liberal subscrip-
tions from all parts of France. The loss by this
disaster amounted to more than two millions.
The sea is nothing else but a vast reservoir of
constantly renewed saline matter, but at a dis-
tance from the ocean, nature supplies abundantly
this indispensable article of consumption. Thus
we have salt distributed through the interior of
the earth, and many mines of gem or fossil salt,
like the famous ones of Wioslizcka. in Polaiul,
which produce salt pure enough for immediate
consumption, without any preliminary process.
The salt at Salines, and the other salt-producing
places in tlie east of France, is obtained in the
form of fountains of salt water, which are reached
b}' means of sinking Artesian wells. By sinking
the shafts to a great depth, water is sometimes
procured, containing salt in solution in the pro-
portion of twenty-five parts of salt to seventy-five
of water ; it is then evaporated, the sulphate and
carbonate of lime and the iron expelled, and the
salt is finally precipitated and dried by fire heat.
The whole process is tedious and costly, and re-
quires large capital to be successfully earned on.
THE SEA,
Tlic largest of all cemeteries is the sea, and
its slumberers sleep without monuments. All
other graveyards in other lands, show some
symbol of distinction between the great and
small, the rich and poor ; but in the ocean ceme-
tery, the king and the clown, the prince and the
peasant, are alike undistinguished. The same
waves roll over all ; the same requiem b}'' the
minstrels of the ocean is sung to their honor.
Over their remains the same storm beats, and
the same sun shines ; and there, unmarked, the
weak and the powerful, the plumed and the un-
honored, will sleep on, until awakened by the
same trump when the sea shall give up its count-
less liosts of the dead of myriad generations. —
Olive Branch.
THE MEAT MAKRET AT PARIS.
The engraving below represents the auction of
butcher's meat in the Market des Prouvaires,
Paris. Prior to the establishment of this market,
and this manner of selling meat, in 1848, pro-
visions could be only purchased at private sale,
and at certain authorized places, under a code of
regulations which gave the butchers a kind of
monopoly, and was peculiarly oppressive to con-
sumers. The butcliers were enabled by an
agreement among themselves to keep up a very
high tariti' of prices. By a decree of the 21st of
May, 1849, confirmed and enlarged October 1st,
in the same year, it was ordered that all fresh
meat, beef, veal, mutton and pork, coming di-
rectly from the departments, should be received
daily in the Market des Prouvaires, to be sold
there at auction by a factor commissioned for
this purpose, and controlled by the agents of the
administration. The factor receives one per
cent, on the gross product of his sales. A cer-
tain percentage is also deducted for entrance du-
ties {octroi), charges, expenses, etc., including a
contribution to the city treasury. The experi-
ment is said to have succeeded admirably, and
cattle raisers and consumers have found their
profit in the system. Regimental commissaries
are in the habit of frequenting this market to
make their purchases. The sale at auction is
evidently the commencement of a new era which
will soon embrace all the markets of the citv- A
plenty and cheapness of meat will soon produce
a change in the habits of the Parisians. The
Frenchman is not, like the Englishman, particu-
larly fond of meat. But if, by a decline of prices,
the use of it is rendered easier to him, it will be-
come more frequent and habitual among the la-
boring classes, who have not hithei-to consumed
half the meat, per individual, requisite to give
him strength, and keep him in health.
\ ^a— »
THE REAL GENTLEMAN.
Not he who displays the latest fashion — dress-
es in extravagance, with gold ring;; and chains
to display. Not he who talks the loudest, and
makes constant use of profane language and
vulgar words. Not he who is proud and over-
bearing— who oppresses the poor, and looks with
contempt on honest industry. Nor he who can-
not control his passions, and humble himself as
a child. No ; none of these arc real gentlemen.
It is he who is kind and obliging — who is ready
to do jou a favor with no hope of reward ; who
visits the poor, and assists those who are in
need ; who is more careful of his heart than the
dress of his person ; who is humble and soci-
able— not irascible or revengeful ; who always
speaks the truth without resorting to profane or
indecent words. Such a man is a real gentle-
man, wherever he may be found. Rich or poor,
high or low, he is entitled to the appellation. —
Spectator.
VIEW OF THE MEAT MARKET, AT PARIS.
86
GLEvVSON'S PICTORTAL DRAWING ROOM C'0:MPANI()N.
[Written for Olwwon'fl Pictorial.]
MY CHILDHOOD HOURS.
ST DE PLKTCIIER IIUNTON.
My childhood! O, my cliildhootl!
Where nrv thoso liivppy hourn
1 Bpont in j(?y and Kindness,
Within thy fiiiry howcrs?
Whoro (iro tho friends that sported
With infl in Ilfo'a young day,
And danced In youthful pleasure
Those aunuy hours away?
Iiong diwiry years of sorrow
Have slowly glided by,
Sinco Inst I played and sported
Uencatb Miy gonial sky ;
And yet, in dreams, I see thee,
Far down the silent past;
As fair, and e'en as lovely,
As when I saw tbeo last.
And those I lorcd in childhood,
Come thronging round luo now ;
Which steals away tlio sadncaa
That fiits upon my brow.
Once more wc join in playing,
Upon the level plain ;
While our young btitrta are beating
With loTC and hope ag;un.
0 yo5, these Iiours, when memory
Falls gently on tho breast ;
Are like a numuier evening,
Which lulls the soul to rest.
They waft the thoughts from sorrow.
To scenes of fairest bloom ;
Then leave thcoi gently musing
Beside time's early tomb.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
EDGAR KANDOLPH :
— OK—
MAN'S JUDGMENT SOMETIMES IN EEROK.
BT MRS. CAROLINE ORNE.
All tlie passengers alighted from the stage-
coach, when it drew up opposite the Franklin
Hotel, situated in a retired country town, except
two. One of tliem a young man of twenty-five,
whose name was Edgar Randolph, was a native
of the place, and after an absence of three years,
which had been spent mostly in the Western
States, was returning to his paternal home.
Edgar Randolph, without being what could,
strictly speaking, be termed handsome, possessed
one of those fine heads which the eye would
have singled out in a large assembly. His fore-
head, which was high and well-expanded, de-
noted intellectual power, while those organs
forming the upper region of the head, were
largely developed, showing that his moral sense
was keen and delicate.
Bertram Clavering, Edgar's companion, was,
as far as features and complexion go, eminently
handsome ; but a close observer would, at times,
have been able to detect an expression lurking
in his eyes, and around the corners of his finely-
chiselled mouth, wiiich might have awakened so
much distmst, as to cause him to hesitate about
choosing him for a friend. But Edgar Ran-
dolph, never having looked for faults, had never
discovered any, and at the present moment, he
looked upon Clavering as one of his dearest
friends, and as such, entitled to his full confi-
dence.
" And where is Locust Dale V asked Claver-
ing, when Edgar had pointed out to him his
father's residence which, shaded by a number of
fine old forest trees, could be partially discerned,
about a quarter of a mile distant.
" Close by," was the answer. " You sec those
large locust trees ?"
" Yes."
" It is from those that Locust Dale derives its
name ; and when we have proceeded a few rods
further, we shall get a glimpse of the white cot-
tage you have heard me mention."
" Which, of course, owes its greatest charm to
the rural divinity who inhabits it."
"Virginia Lee was only fourteen — a mere
child — when I last saw her," said Randolph.
" Cliangcs, in more respects than one,
since then, have taken place."
" I hope she has not grown less beautiful,"
said Clavering; "for I am promising myself
mudi amusement from cultivating the acquaint-
ance of the little rustic, and I never did, and
never could, tolerate a homely specimen of the
8CX."
Edgar did not like this rcmnrk, and still less
tho manner in which it was said. Tlicidcaof
having Virginia Lee, whose innocence and purity
may,
had ever appeared to him to shod around her an
almost liallou'cd atmosphere, regarded as a Ic-
gitinnilc object (o amu^^e the idle liour.s of even
Clavering, grated harshly upon his feelings.
He made no reply to the remark, nor did he
even speak again, till the couch stoppeil in front
of his father's dwelling. He then roused himself,
and with an eifort, hivnishing, for the time, tlic
disagreeable emotions which had been e.xeited,
after the warm and affectionate greeting between
him and his parents, presented Clavering to
them, in a manner to insure him a cordial re-
ception.
After tea, whilo Clavering was engaged in
conversation with his falhei', in which the fine
talent of the former for deRcri])lion told to good
advantage — Edgar slii)ped out unperceived, and
took his way to the white cottage. The picture
of Virginia Lee, which he liad treasured in his
mind ever since he parted with her, tin-ee years
previous, having been kept bright by the vivid
tints of a warm fancy and the golden sunlight of
a warmer heart, had been ever the same. Nei-
ther was there any change in the original, except
that she was more blooming, more i*adiant, and
more lovely than ever. There was the same
graceful ease and freedom in her movements, the
same ingenuous expression of countenance, the
same lustrous hair, which in golden ripples used
to play about her transparent brow, except that
it had taken a somewhat deeper and richer shade.
Her eyes, too, of an azure, dark as a moonlight
sky at midnight, still mirrored in their clear
depths tliose soft and starry beams which, to
Edgar's imagination, used to diffuse over her
whole person a kind of dreamy, poetic light, as
indescribable as it was enchanting.
They had parted as friends — nothing more;
yet Edgar, long before and during his absence,
had cherished sentiments with regard to her, far
deeper and more ardent than those of friendship.
AVhether they had been reciprocated, or other-
wise, lie knew not more definitely than could be
gathered from those involuntary manifestations,
which, after all, are truer exponents of the heart
than language can ever he. This forbearance,
on his part, he imagined was due to her extreme
youth. He did not think it right to entangle her
into an engagement to which she might be
prompted by a mei^e girlish whim, and of which
she might repent ere the expiration of his three
years' contemplated absence. At the first mo-
ment of their meeting, Virginia made no attempt
to conceal the fulness of her joy at again behold-
ing liim. It sparkled in her eyes, hovered in
laughing dimples round her coral lips, and with
each quick, yet graceful turn of her head, gave a
free, joyous play to her sunny ringlets, such as
every one might have known could never have
been given, had not the pulses of the heart been
thrilling with happiness.
It was not long, however, as if suddenly recol-
lecting herself, she became more reserved. Had
Edgar been an apt interpreter of a maiden's
heart, he might have set this down as being in
his favor. As it was, it caused him much cha-
grin, and after tormenting himself to find some
reason for this change in her demeanor, he
recollected that it had not taken place, till after
he had mentioned his fiicnd Clavering, and
dwelt with some enthusiasm on his mental and
personal advantages. His own manner became
cold and distant, and in a few minutes he rose
to go, saying to Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who in*ged
him to stay longer, that Mr. Clavering might
construe a more protracted absence, on the first
evening of his arrival, into neglect.
" You must bring Mr. Clavering with you, the
next time you call," said Mrs. Lee, "and then
you will be willing to remain longer."
"Yes," said Mr. Lee, "for the praise you
liave bestowed on him in your letters to your
parents, makes us anxious to cultivate his ac-
quaintance. Virginia, in a particular manner,
has had her curiosity a good deal excited by the
description you gave of him the last time you
wi'ote."
"Her curiosity is very rational," replied Ed-
gar, "and will, doubtless, be speedily gratified,
as I know that he is anxious for an early intro-
duction to one I have so often described to him,
as an old and favorite playmate."
There might not have been much in this speech
to cause Virginia to feel particularly uncom-
fortable, nor would it have had that eficct, liad
it been uttered in a frank, playful manner, which
in former times, he ofcen assumed ; but she now
felt, slic hardly knew why, that there was sar-
casm lurking beneath it, not the less bitter, from
liis evident attempt to conceal it beneath tho
guise of politeness. She crimsoned to her tem-
ples, and Willi dilhculty rcprcKsed the emotion
whi('h threatened to overflow in tears. Yet Hhe
did repress it, and responded to his cold good
night, in accents equally cold.
"I should not have appeared so glad to sco
liim," she said, mentally. "My joy at his re-
turn, so unreservedly expressed, undoubtedly
disgusted him. Well, I will not repeat the
ofienee — of that, he may he certain. I can, if I
please, appear as cold and distant as he himself
can.'*
" Come Edgar," said Clavering, the following
moniing, " I Iiavc been waiting more tlian an
hour, expecting every minute that you would in-
vite me to call with you on the pretty little rus-
tic you Jiave told me so much about,"
" You mean Miss Lee, I presume."
"Why, what on earth has happened to make
you so formal ■? This is the first time I ever
heard you call her Miss Lee. You always used
to call her Virginia ; and I intend, as soon as I
get acquainted with her, to call her Jenny."
Without saying more, Edgar took his hat,
and told Clavering he was ready to go witli him.
Virginia, in whose bosom the shame of having,
as she imagined, the evening previous given to
Edgar so warm a welcome, as in his eyes to ap-
pear bold and unmaidenly, had not in any de-
gree subsided, received him and his friend with
a dignity which caused the latter to maintain to-
wards her a respectful deference, which he had
by no means imagined would be necessai-y.
This did not exactly suit him. He had accepted
Edgar's invitation to accompany him to his
rural home, partly for amusement and relaxa-
tion. Whatever other motive actuated him, he
did not think proper to reveal. It was his wish,
as he had often told Edgar, to be so situated as
to feel free to unbend — to be in no wise fettered
by the conventionalisms of sociery as met with
in the city. In Virginia Lee he had expected
to meet a little bright-eyed, cherry-cheeked rus-
tic, who, as he had intimated to Edgar, would
contribute to his amusement, while at the same
time she looked up to him, as occupying a posi-
tion far above her level.
" This Virginia Lee is quite different, in many
respects, from what I imagined she would be,"
said Clavering to Edgar, on their way home.
" Very likely," said Edgar, coldly.
" Why, she is beautiful, graceful, and intelli-
gent enough to adorn the first society."
"Without doubt."
" Have I not heard you say," said Clavering,
apparently not noticing the laconic manner in
which Edgar responded to his remarks, " that
her father is one of the wealthiest men in the
place ?"
"With one exception, he is undoubtedly the
wealthiest."
Clavering now fell into a bit of musing, and
the remainder of the walk was accomplished in
silence.
Although Clavering had never heard Edgar
say, in so many words, that Virginia Lee was
more to him than any other young lady of his
acquaintance, yet he knew full well that she was,
and he was too keen-sighted not to be convinced
that, at present, there was some misunderstand-
ing between them. Without any "compunctious
visitings of conscience," he decided to take ad-
vantage of this lovers' quarrel — if such there
were — to promote his own designs. He had, by
some adroit allusions and seemingly careless
questions, ascertained that, besides the broad
acres which Virginia, as an only child, would
one day inherit, there was also a snug little for-
tune of twent}' thousand dollars — the bequest of
a maiden aunt — which would come into her pos-
session on the day of her marriage, or, if she
remained single, when she was eighteen. As
his own means were slender, and his tastes luxu-
rious, he concluded he could not do better than
to marry her. Under existing circumstances, it
would cost some pains to bring about the desired
result, but he was conscious of possessing talents
suited to liis piu-pose. It is ti'ue they were not
of a kind to place him high in the estimation of
those who possessed a nice sense of honor ; but
this was a consideration which was likely to
trouble lum very little, if he proved .successful.
As a preliminary step, he took much pains to
ingratiate himself into the favor of Virginia's
parents. In this he was successful, and was
soon on such familiar footing, as to call, at any
hour of the day, without ceremony.
Virginia, in the meantime, was ill at ease.
T)ie distance between her and Edgar, without
any perceptible agency, became daily wider and
more impassable. He called less frequently,
and, as it luippencd, always at times wlien there
was no opportunity for explanation ; and, even
if there had been, iiujircsscd as hhe was with the
belief that he thought her bold and forward tho
first evening they met, she would not have ven-
tui'ed to avail herself of it, without some ad-
vances on his part.
Clavering watched her narrowly. He thought
he comprehended the .struggle which was going
on in her mind, and imagined he might, at
length, from time to time, venture to throw out
hints, calculated to give her the impression that
Edgar's coldness and reserve were owing to his
affections being engaged elsewhere. When in
the presence of Edgar, half expressed insinua-
tions were also resorted to, to produce on his
mind a similar cfiect with regard to Virginia.
He knew that, as far as Edgar was concerned,
he was no longer a welcome guest at Mr. Ran-
dolph's; yet he could not make up his mind to
b]-ing his visit to a close, till he had made great-
er progress in his suit to Virginia. Being one of
those who do not hesitate to sacrifice mere deli-
cacy of feeling to expediency, Edgar's illy con-
cealed coldness towards him cost him but little
uneasiness. With the inhabitants of the x^laee
he every day grew more popular. There was
something fascinating about him, which none
had power to resist, yet to which the graver
class yielded against their better judgment.
Things were in this state when he received the
subjoined letter :
"You are, without doubt, aware that the
thousand dollars which you owe me became due
the twentieth of last month. Please forward the
amount immediately, as otherwise I shall be
obliged to place the note in the hands of my at-
torney for collection. J. Dalton."
" How in the name of his satanie majesty,
Dalton found out that I was here is past my
comprehension," were the half-audible words of
Clavering, as he finished reading it. " Well,
nevermind. Let him place it in his lawyer's
hands for collection, if he chooses— it will only
give him trouble and expense. I cannot pay it
— that is certain ; and if an officer is sent to ar-
rest me, I shall, if I mistake not, be among the
missing."
Previously to reading the letter, he had step-
ped within the shadow of a piece of woods,
which for more than a mile bordered the road,
commencing near the post-office; for finding that
it had been mailed in a city where Mr. Dalton
and several others to whom he was indebted to
a large amount, resided, he preferred to be by
himself during its perusal. Though his first im-
pulse was to leave the place immediately, when
he thought of Virginia Lee, he hesitated. For
the sake of a thousand dollars, which Dalton
did not need, he must abandon the field to
Edgar, and thus run the risk of losing twenty
thousand in ready money, and valuable lands,
which were every day increasing in value. It
was not to be thought of. And there, in the
shadow of the gloomy woods, he formed and re-
jected more than one guilty plan for procuring
the sum necessary to liquidate the debt. This
was near the close of day, and about the same
hour, a stranger in a light wagon, who had the
manners and appearance of a gentleman, stopped
near the residence of Mr. Randolph, and inquir-
ed the nearest way to a neighboring town. Sev-
eral men were standing near, among whom was
Mr. Randolph and his son. The latter stepped
up to the wagon, and gave the desired directions.
"The distance is eight miles, you say. Is
there no nearer way?" inquired the stranger.
" There is," replied Edgar, " but the road is
rough."
" How much will it shorten the distance ?"
"Nearly half."
" It will quite do it," said one of the by-stand-
erp, " but a part of it leads through the woods."
" Well, I suppose there are no highwaymen in
this quiet country-place," said tho stranger,
smiling.
" Of course not," said the elder Randolph ;
"but I advise you to take the best road, if it is
longer, for what you lose in time, you will make
up in comfort. Besides, as ahout midway of the
woods several cart-roads branch ofi' in difi^'erent
directions, 3'ou may take tlie wrong one."
" I have promised to meet a person at a cer-
tain horn-," said the sti-anger, "whose engage-
ments are such as will make it inconvenient for
him to wait, and I can liardly an-ivo in season,
if I take the longer road,"
"As I am perfectly at leisure," said Edgar,
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWITs^G HOOM COMPANION.
87
" I will, if you please, accompany you as far as
the brauching off of the roads, after which it will
be impossible for you to miss the way."
The stranger tlianked him, and gladly accept-
ed the offer.
Mr. and Mrs. Randolph had, for some time,
been expecting their son's return, when they
heard some one, with quick steps, coming up
the gravel walk.
" Edgar has come at last," said Mrs. Ran-
dolph.
Rising and opening the door, instead of
Edgar, she beheld Clavering.
" I will go directly to my room, I believe," he
said, as she stepped aside for him to enter.
"Have you seen Edgtirl" she asked, calling
after him as he ascended the stairs.
" No — or rather I may say that I did see him,
though at quite a distance. I was returning
frora Ml". Lee's, and saw him walking very fast,
just within the skirts of the woods, not far from
the post-office."
It might have been something like half an
hour or more before Clavering arrived at the
residence of Mr. Randolph, that a man by the
name of Howell was walking along the road on
the opposite side of the woods to that where the
post-office stood, when a horse, attached to an
empty wagon, rushed from one of the roads cross-
ing them, and with furious speed continued his
course along the highway. Supposing that
whoever had been the occupant of the wagon, he
had been thrown thence, Howell entered the
woods for the purpose of rendering assistance,
' if any were necessary. He had proceeded a
considerable distance without seeing any person,
when thinking he heard a slight noise, like the
plashing of water, he looked through an opening
which he made by parting the branches of the
trees, and saw a man kneeling beside a small
brook washing bis hands. His head was turned
from him, so that he could not see his face. He
must have heard the noise which Howell made
by thrusting aside the branches of the trees, for
suddenly starting to his feet, he plunged into the
woods and disappeared. He called after him,
but received no answer. As it did not appear
likely that he was the owner of the horse and
wagon, Howell walked on, and after proceeding
a few rods further, saw something white partly
concealed iu a clump of bushes. It proved to
be a linen handkerchief, and was stained with
blood, as if it had been used in attempting to
obliterate traces of the sanguine fluid from the
hands. This circumstance, joined to that of
having seen a man kneeling by the side of the
brook engaged in washing his hands, together
with the runaway horse and empty wagon, made
him suspect that something was wrong. His
suspicion was speedily confirmed, for scarce half
a dozen paces from where he had found the hand-
kerchief, close to the roadside, and partially con-
cealed by the thick undergrowth and a few
branches, which seemed to have been broken
from some trees for the purpose, he found the
bloody corpse of a man. As considerable
warmth still remained, he thought that life
might not yet be extinct, and made some at-
tempt to restore him to animation, previous to
making known the appalling discoveiy. Had
not the deepening twilight, added to the gloom
of the woods, rendered objects obscure, he might
have seen by the ghastly countenance, that the
attempt was hopeless. He soon became con-
vinced that it was so, and hastened from the
woods to give the alarm. The first person he
saw when he emei-ged into the high road, was
Edgar Randolph. He stood just mthin the
verge of the woods with his back towards him,
leaning against a tree. He held in his hand
what he took to be an open letter, and which, by
the fast fading light, he was attempting to read.
Howell spoke to him, calling him by name. He
started and looked up, and without re-folding
the letter, thrust it into his pocket. As soon as
this was accomplished, he advanced to meet him,
remarking that not being aware of the proximity
of any person, he was somewhat startled by be-
ing so suddenly accosted. Without saying any-
thing respecting what he had seen, Howell said
carelessly :
" Have you lost a handkerchief 1"
" I have not," replied Edgar. " Why do you
ask V
" Because I fouud one in the road which
crosses the woods, and as your name is written
in a corner of it, I concluded it must be yours."
"If it does belong me, I could not have lost
it to-day, as I am certain that I have not had a
white handkerchief in my pocket for more than
a week."
Nothing more was said, and they soon arrived
at the post-office, where, as was usual at that
hour, the mail having come a short time previ-
ous, a number of persons were gatliered to ob-
tain their letters and papers. Howell, in a few
words, made known the horrible discovery he
had made, to which, as he informed them, he
was prompted by seeing a runaway horse at-
tached to an empty wagon.
" Wliy, it must have been the stranger I went
with partly across the woods, to show him the
way," said Edgar.
" I thought that you and he had met, not long
since," said Howell.
" Wliy so — what do you mean ?" said Edgar.
" I mean that circumstances point you out as
the murderer," said Howell.
" Tlie circumstance of his having accompanied
the stranger into the woods, does seem to be
rather against him," said a man by the name of
Belton.
"And this, I think, is quite as much against
him," said Howell, producing the blood-stained
handkerchief, wliich he held up at the light
gleaming tlu-ough the window of the post-office,
while he directed attention to Edgar's name in
the corner.
" That handkerchief," said Edgar, " I handed
to Mr. Clavering, while on my journey thither,
to tie around his throat to protect it from tlie
cold wind, he not having one at hand which
would answer the purpose ; and from that day, I
have never, till this moment, seen it since. As
to the murder of the stranger, its announcement
could have struck no one present with more sur-
prise and honor, than it did me. I left him,
after having arrived at the place where I could
point out to him the right road, without any
danger of his mistaking it. After I alighted
fi-om the wagon, he hold me in conversation sev-
eral minutes, and among other things, told roe
that his name was Deering, and that he was go-
ing to pay the person, whom he expected to meet
in the adjoining town, two thousand dollars."
"It seems, then, that there was some tempta-
tion to commit the murder," said Belton. " That
is a part of the conversation you had better not
have disclosed."
"And why?" asked Edgar. "Do you, or
any other person present, imagine that two thou-
sand dollars would tempt me to so foul a deed ^"
"I hardly know what to think," said Belton.
"Two hours ago, I should have answered, no;
but murder, you know, has been committed for
the sake of a five dollar bill."
" There is One who knows all things," said
Edgar; "and he knows that I am guiltless of
the dreadful crime of which you accuse me."
" Such assei-tions will go for what the}' are
worth," said Mr. Racker, who had hitherto re-
mained a silent spectator.
Mr. Racker, who was of that gloomy temper-
ament, which inclines a person to look at the
dark side, believed that Edgar was guilty. Most
of the others, though much against their inclina-
tion, f.:lt themselves compelled to believe the
same, while a few, including those who had
known him most intimately, thought him inno-
cent. They even hoped that there had been no
murder committed, but that the stranger had
come to his death by being throwm from the
wagon. This was an illusion soon dispelled by
the return of several of those who had accompa-
nied Howell to the spot where he had discovered
the body.
Aided by the light of torches, a wound was
found on the head which might have been caused
by being violently thrown from the wagon, and
appeared to have been sufficient to prove fatal ;
but, in addition to this, he was stabbed in two
places, one wound being in the side, which, as
was subsequently ascertained, having penetrated
the heart, would have caused instant death. It
also appeared that he had been robbed, there
being no money found about his person, while a
watch, which had been seen in his possession by
those standing by when he stopped to incjuire
the way near the residence of Mi*. Randolph,
was gone. '
The pockets of Edgar, and such parts of his
dress where it was possible anything could be
concealed, were thoroughly searched. Nothing
was found except a pui"se containing a few shil-
lings, a silk handkerchief, and the letter which
Howell had seen him thrust so hastily into his
pocket. As it was destitute of an envelope, and
the name of the person to whom it was address-
ed toni off from the inside, it could not be cer-
tainly known that it was originally intended for
him. He, himself, said, that he found it only a
few minutes before Howell spoke to him.
It was, in truth, the identical missive which
Clavering, a few hours previously, had received
from Ml-. J. Dalton. But as this was a circum-
stance unknown to any one ju-esent, it was natu-
ral to suppose that it had been sent to Edgar ;
and in the demand it contained for the immedi-
ate payment of a large sum of money, a motive
was found for the commission of the crime.
Edgar was placed under an-est, and a person
who was thought to be well qualified for the
painful task, xmdertook to inform his parents of
what had taken place. Little, however, can be
done in cases of the kind to alleWate the severity
of the blow. It must Ml with crushing weight,
whatever efforts may be made to stay its force.
But the anguish of Mr. and Mi's. Randolph, as
soon as they had time for reflection, was softened
by then* firm belief in their son's innocence.
Had it not been alleged that robbery had been
added to the ei-ime of murder, they might have
been less strong in their belief. It was possible
tliat a sudden quarrel might have arisen between
him and the stranger, and that in a momentary
fit of passion he had raised his hand against
him. For the robbery, they could assign no
reason, as they knew that funds to the amount
of fifteen hundred dollars had been remitted to
liim within a week, which were at tbat moment
lying in his desk. It was thought proper that,
as Edgar's friend, the dreadful news should be
communicated to Clavering. Eor this pui-pose,
Mr. Lisle, who had home the intelligence to Mr.
and Mrs. Randolph, went up stairs and rapped at
his chamber door. He rapped twice before Cla-
vering spoke, who then said ;
"Who is there?"
" Ml'. Lisle," was the answer ; " and I am the
bearer of heavy tidings."
" Heavy tidings, did you say 1 "UTiat has hap-
pened ? Anything which impUcates my friend
Randolph ?"
" I am sorry to say that there has," replied
Ml". Lisle, who, had he been less agitated, would
have been struck with the singularity of a ques-
tion which as yet he had said nothing to suggest.
He heard Clavering unlock the door, who, as he
threw it open, said :
" What are the circumstances which implicate
him ? Tell them to me."
Ml-. Lisle briefly recapitulated the incidents al-
ready knoA\-n, to which Clavering hstened mth
an eagerness which devoured every word.
" And no one was seen in, or near the woods,
except Randolph V said Clavering, when Mr.
Lisle had finished.
" I believe not. At least I have not heard
that there was. Will you not go do^\Ti and
speak with the unhappy parents ?"
"I think not — it can do no good. You say
no one, except Randolph, was seen in or near
the woods, about the time of the murder 1"
" No one."
Clavering seized him by the hand and squeezed
it, as if this answer to his question — perhaps
from its being more categorical than when he
answered it the first time — called up some sud-
den emotion, either of afl"ection or gratitude, the
ardor of which he sought to allay by resorting
to something more demonstrative than mere
language.
Early in the morning, Clavering made his ap-
pearance, prepared for a journey. The stage,
he said, would be along in about five or ten min-
utes, and that in consequence of a letter which
he received the day previous, by which he foimd
that his presence was required for the settlement
of some important business, he should be obliged
to leave, however much against his inclination,
at a time when so dear a friend was in trouble.
"I hope," added he, averting his face, "that
all will come out well at last ; and if, when the
trial comes on, my testimony as to the excel-
lence of his moral character, as far forth as I
could judge during an acquaintance of nearly a
year, should be thought desirable, I shall be
ready to make my appearance. This card will
show where I may be found."
"I thank you for the hope you express, that
all will come out at last, and I have faith to be-
lieve that it will," said JL-. Randolph. "He,
who seeth not as man seetli, is able to bring to
light the real culprit."
Clavering made no reply to this, and appeared
to be ill at case. He seemed relieved, when a
minute afterward, he heard the rattle of the
coach wheels, and bidding Mr. Randolph a good
morning, was soon on his way to a distant city.
In the course of the day, Mr. Lee carried bis
wife and daughter to see Mr. and Mrs. Randolph.
The scorn with which Virginia spumed the bare
possibility of Edgar's having committed so hor-
rible a crime, strengthened their own faith in
his innocence.
" He has ceased to care for me," said Vir-
ginia; "he has become attached to another, and
no doubt worthier; but this does not prevent
me from seeing that, in all things else, he re-
mains unchanged."
"What makes you think, my dear child," said
Mrs. Randolph, " that Edgar has ceased to care
for you 1"
"Mr. Clavering told me that, for several
months before he left the West, he was engaged
to a lady, who was wealthy, beautiful and highlj
accomplished."
"Mr. Clavering told you what he knew to be
an untruth, then," said Mrs. Randolph. " Ed-
gar thought you appeared cold and distant to-
wards him, and atti'ibuted it to your partiality
to Clavering. His bcHef was confirmed by
Clavering himself, who, after expressing hislovo
and admiration of you in the most high-wrought
and glowing terms, confessed that he had the
pleasure of knowing that his sentiments were
fully reciprocated."
" Then he confessed to a falsehood. He knew
that the sentiments he professed to entertain for
me were not reciprocated, for I told him so in
plain terms."
"I believe," said Mr. Randolph, "that it
would have been well for us all, if we had never
seen Mr. Clavering,"
" So do I believe, and so do we all," said Mrs.
Lee. " May God forgive us, if we judge wrong-
fully."
A gentleman by the name of Lindsay, one of
the most eminent lawyers in the county, volun-
tarily came forward and offered his sen-ices in
behalf of the prisoner, at the approaching trial.
He had known him from childhood, and like
most others who had done so, could not bring
himself to believe that he was guilty ; yet circum-
stances were such as to render the case nearly
hopeless. In the meantime, he was untiring in
his effort to establish some fact which might tell
in his favor. Several times he visited the spot
which had been the scene of the murder ; and
after one of these visits, made in company with
a friend, it was imagined that he appeared to en-
tertain more confidence than he had previously
done, tliat Edgar would be acquitted. He, how-
ever, avoided mentioning the subject, fearful,
probably, that he might excite false hopes.
There is no time to even glance at the fear,
the anguish, and the agony of suspense endured
by Edgar's parents, and her, who — in this season
of deep afliliction — was all that an own daughter
could have been to them ; and yet they dreaded
the arrival of the day appointed for the trial.
Though the county jail, in which the prisoner
was confined, was a number of miles from where
Ml". Randolph lived, not a day passed that the
father did not visit his son. His mother, too,
unless prevented by indisposition, accompanied
by Virginia Lee, often visited him. When the
day of tiial came, his father was at the prison
by early dawn. Long before the doors of the
court-house were open, the yard and the adjacent
avenues were thronged by persons, who, excited
either by curiosity or sympathy for the prisoner,
were anxious to be present at the trial. Edgar,
attended by his father and Mr. Lindsay, the gen-
tleman who had volunteered his services as
counsel for the accused, was conveyed to the
court-house in a close carriage. The judges and
the counsel retained by government, were pres-
ent when the prisoner was placed at the bar.
Those preliminary formalities usual on such
occasions, having been gone through with, the
examination of the witnesses for government was
commenced. The testimony was only a repeti-
tion of what was elicited at the time of the pris-
oner's examination before a magistrate the day
after the crime was committed, and merely went
to show the facts already known. This occupied
the first day, and till late in the afternoon, the
second, when the court was adjourned till nine
o'clock tlie following morning.
At the appointed hour the court re-assembled,
and proceedings were commenced by Thomas
Lindsay, Esq., counsel for the defence. His
eloquent and powerful appeal, while it excited
the sympathy of the spectators, so as to draw
tears from those " not used to the melting
mood," could not do away those facts, which, to
most persons, appeared to be conclusive evidence
of the prisoner's guilt. Those alone who knew
him. most intimately, and were, therefore, best
acquainted with his high sense of honor, and
freedom from all duplicity, which urged him to
confess circumstances relative to his aecompany-
[CONCLUDED ON PAGE 90.]
88
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
SECOND SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED VIEWS OF WEST POINT, NEW YORK.
^isvJ^f^^'"
WEST POINT HOTEL5 AND KOAD FROM THE LANDING.
In accordance with the promise given in a for-
mer number, we present herewith another scries
of sketches at West Point, taken on the spot ex-
pressly for the Pictorial. Our first iUustration
represents the West Point Hotel. This house
is most delightfully situated on the brow of a
wooded promontory which juts
abruptly into the river, turning
its course at nearly right angles,
and affording to the visitor a
channing view up and doT\Ti for
many miles. The view from it
includes within its scope the en-
campment groimd, with its white
tents, and busy groups of cadets
engaged in their interesting ex-
ercises, while bounding two sides
of the grassy plain before him
are seen various buildings con-
nected witJi the institution, viz.,
the library, chapel, academy,
mess hall, barracks, and resi-
dences of the various officers and
professors connected with the
academy. Towering above the
latter is Mount Independence,
crowned with the ruins of Fort
Putnam, while northward, Crow-
nest and Butler Hill rear aloft
their mighty heads in towering
majesty, and in connection with
Breakneck and Bull Hill in tbe
opposite side, seem to shut in tbe
river in that quarter. In the
distance, as though seen through
a telescope, the white houses of
Newburgh glisten in the sun,
and lend an enchantment to \he
view, which must be seen to be
appreciated. In tbe centre of
the picture is seen the road from
the landing, with a party of offi-
cers in the foreground, reviewing
a squad of U. S. dragoons as
they wind up the road to the
plain above. These troops are
stationed here to preserve order
and discipline among the cadets.
Upon the rocks at the side of
the road may be seen one of a
series of inscriptions carved by
order of the government to com-
memorate the late war in Mexi-
co. The names of the remain-
der of those battle-fields are in-
scribed on the rocks, along titc
water's edge, at the base of the
promontoi*y, on which stands
the hotel, and embrace Palo
Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Mon-
terey, Buena Vista, Vera Cruz,
and CeiTo Gordo. Tbe largo
view on the opposite page, em-
braces the remains of old Fort
Clinton, the encampment, the
library and chapel. The only remains of Fort
Clinton are tbe tui-f-grown ramparts, indicated
by the barrel on the left of the engraving, which
is used by the cadets as a target for bomb prac-
tice. This fort was constructed of logs and
earth, under the immediate supervision of Kos-
ciusko, and was a strong work, commanding the
river both up and down. The encampment, so
faithfully depicted by our artist, is an object of
great interest to the sojourner at the Point.
Here, during three months of the year (Juno,
July and August), the cadets do regular camp
VIEW OF K0SC1USK0*S MONUMENT.
duty, and by leaming first to obey, are qualified
to command. Attached to the corps of cadets is
a band, excelled by no other on this continent,
which every pleasant evening, during tlie sum-
mer season, regales the ear with some of the
sweetest music it has ever been our good fortune
to listen to. On the right of this
picture is seen the library, with
its elliptical dome, and the chap-
el. The former building con-
tains some exceedingly line por-
traits, and a collection of relics
and trophies, which are well
worthy a visit. In the fore-
ground, a portion of the cadets
are going through the evolutions
of fiying artillery. This picture
is companion to one which we
i^-^ -. sliall present in a future number,
in which will be given a view of
the academy building and new
barracks, wiiik- in tbe foreground
we shall represent tlie remainder
of this park of artillery " in bat-
tery" and "limbering" up."
Kosciusko's monument.
This handsome piece of mon-
umental marble stands upon the
verge of the promontoiy of West
Point, properly so called, and is
one of the most prominent ob-
jects seen from tbe river as the
traveller approaches this inter-
esting locality. The view from
its site is one of great, nay, tran-
scendent beauty, and sliould not
be lost by the sojourner. The
monument is made of white mar-
ble, and bears upon tlie side
facing therivcr, within a wreath,
the name of Kosciusko. Upon
the other side is the simple in-
scription, "Erected b>/ the Corps
of Cadets, 1828." It was fin-
ished in 1829, and cost 155000.
One of the most delightful re-
ti-eats in the vicinity of the acad-
emy is "the Cemetery," which
is situated about a mile to the
northwest of the parade ground,
and is reached by a road whicli
leads out of the west gate of the
grounds, and after passing
around a portion of the base of
Mount Independence, above the
village of Camptown, {a small
collection of Iiouses occupied by
the U. S. dragoons and others
not immediately connected with
the academy), It approaches the
cemetery, or, more properly,
burial ground. Here the visitor
will sec some of the finest speci-
mens of monumental architec-
GLEASO?s^'S nCTOEIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
89
ENCAMPMENT OF THE ^YEST POINT CADETS.
ture which ever graced a burial ground or adorn-
ed a cemetery. Our artist has selected the oldest
and most imposing one for illustration. The
inscriptions, which are as follows, are all the de-
scription necessary. On the book on the side is
inscribed: — Vincent M. Lowe, of New York.
This stone feebly testifies the respect and rcfjret
of his brother cadets. He was accidentally killed
by the discharge of a cannon at West Point, on
1st January, 1817 ; aged 19 years. North side :
Sacred to the memory of the deceased Officers
and Cadets of the Militai-y Academy. Erected
by the members of the Institution, October, 1S18.
Around, on the upper tier of stones of the shaft,
are the names of several cadets who have died
at the institution, as follows: — W. Wm. Mcln-
tyre, of Dist. Columbia, died 26th May, 1818,
aged 20 yeari. — Dryden Lacoek, of Pennsylva-
nia, died Oct. loth, 1818, aged 19 years. — James
Scott, of North Carolina, died 12th May, 1818,
aged 21'years. — Thos. H. Burd, of Pennsylvania,
died 22d Sept., 1819, aged 18 years.. There are
other monuments and tablets of interest which
our space will not permit us to notice.
Returning from the cemetery the road skirts
a valley of picturesque appearance, which, car-
peted with green, and shaded with tall and ma-
jestic trees, affords a cool and romantic retreat
from the noonday sun. In passing this charm-
ing spot the visitor may be fortunate enough to
witness a scene which our artist has depicted,
and in which a class of the new recruits of the
shall be perfected, all candidates for cadets must
not be under fourteen, nor over twenty years of
age, and must be previously versed in reading,
i\Titing and arithmetic, and must sign articles,
with the consent of their parents or guardians,
engaging to serve five years, unless sooner dis-
charged. When any cadet has received a regu-
lar degree from the academic staff, after going
cadets' MONUMENT AND CEMETERY.
academy, under charge ot an instructor, are en-
gaged in making fascines. These are b.askets of
cylindrical fonn, msde of young saplings and
withes, and being filled with sand, are used to
construct batteries and redoubts or breastworks.
The reader will see from this and other exercises
of the cadets, that at this institution they are
instructed practically in everything which apper-
tains to the duty of the soldier. — Among the
qualifications for admission to the institution
where it is designed that a military education
=_^.^ ^-.usd^^ ■
through all the classes, he is considered as among
the candidates for a commission in any corps,
according to the duties he may be judged com-
petent to perform ; and if there is not, at tlie
time, a vacancy in such corps, he may be at-
tached to it at the discretion of the president, by
brevet of the lowest rank, until a vacancy shall
happen. The number of cadets is limited to
two hundred and fifty. In a future number we
shall give a third sciics of views of the pleasing
and attractive lucalitvof We&t Point.
90
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[CONCLUDKD FROM PAGE 87.]
ing the stranger, tliut he must luivc known would
tell af^ainst him, though they had little hope that
he would be aeciuittc-d, cuntinued to Iiave strong
faith in liis innocence.
The plea for the defence being closed, a num-
ber of witnesses appeared successively on the
stand. Their testimony amounted to nothing
more, tlian to show tlnit tlic charncter of Edgar
Randolph, up to the time of his arrest, had been
irreproachable. Letters were also read, which
had been received in answer to several sent by
Mr. Lindsay, to gentlemen at the West, with
whom Edgar Iiad become familiarly acquainted
during his stay in that region. Each of these,
in the fullest and most unqualified manner, bore
testimony to the excellence of his moral charac-
ter during their acquaintance with him, which
served to do away the impression that some en-
tertained, of his having contracted evil habits
during his absence.
Mr. Lindsay now rose, and taking his place
on the witness-stand, requested to be sworn.
The oath having been administered, he opened
a small package which he held in liis hand, and
took thence a portion of a shirt frill, composed
of linen cambric of a very fine texture. This
was sewed to some linen of a coarser fabric.
Attached to the under side of this frill, by a
email diamond breast-pin, whicli shone like a
spark of fire, was another small piece of cambric,
scarcely an inch in circumference. This must
have belonged to the under frill, and the whole,
as was obvious from the ragged, zigzag edges,
must have been torn from the garment it was in-
tended to adorn, and without doubt, by the
wearer. The reason for his so doing was evi-
dent. It had been clutched by a bloody hand,
and with so much tenacity, that the tinger-nails
had frayed and torn the linen.
"This," said the witness, "I found concealed
under a rock, so large that it was with difficulty
I raised it from the ground. My attention was
attracted towaids.it, by seeing that it had been
recently displaced by some person, who, either
through haste or inability, had not succeeded in
restoring it to its original position."
The testimony of Esquire Lindsay produced
much excitement, and some tumult, by those
who were anxious to see as well as hear ; but
order was restored by the appearance of another
witness. It was a girl by the name of Hannah
Sibley, about twenty years old, and of prepos-
sessing appearance.
She had, she said, lived at Mr. Randolph's
for more than a year, during which time— occa-
sionally assisted by Mrs. Randolph — she had
performed the household labor. She had always
done the washing for the family, and with few
exceptions, the ironing. After the return of Mr.
Edgar Randolph, she did his washing and iron-
ing. He had never, to her knowledge, worn
any but plain bosoms to his shirts, and she knew
that she had never washed or ironed any shirts
for him, except those with plain bosoms. She
also washed and ironed for Mi". Claverin^-, the
man who accompanied Edgar Randolph home,
when he retui-ned from the "West. Almost all
his shirts had frills to them. They were narrow,
not more than an inch wide, and similar to those
she sometimes used to see young gentlemen
wear — who were particular about their dress —
when she lived in the city. Two of his shirts —
which were in the wash at the time he went
away — he did not take ^vith him. These two,
as well as those he carried with liim, were mark-
ed with his name in indelible ink. Mr. Claver-
ing almost always wore a breast-pin ; and one
day she asked him if the stone was not an imi-
tation diamond. *' No, you simpleton," says he,
" it is a real diamond, and it would take you
more than two months to earn money enough to
buy one like it."
Esquire Lindsay now remai'ked that the two
shirts referred to by witness, had been placed in
his care for several weeks. He produced them,
and the girl pronounced them to he the same
which Mr. Clavering left at Mr. Randolph's.
They were then submitted to the inspection of
those near, and were found, in every respect, to
correspond witli the description she had given of
them, while the frills with which they wore orna-
mented, on being carefully compared with the
blood-stained fragment discovered by Esquire
Lindsay under tlie rock, was found to be com-
posed of material precisely tlie same in texture
and fineness. In width, too, they were exactly
similar; and several ladies skilled in such mat-
ters, v/hosc presence had been requested for the
purpose, gave it as their opinion, that the needle-
work had all been performed by the same hands.
Esquire Lindsay said that there was still one
more circumstance to add to the evidence in fa-
vor of the a<!cuHed, and as he spoke, be drew a
letter from his pocket.
"It will," he paid, "be remembered that a
letter was found in the possession of the prisoner,
on the evening of his arrest, bearing the signa-
ture of J. Dalton. The name of the person to
whom it was addressed was torn otf from the
corner of the sheet of paper on which it was
written, and the envelope, which, of course, con-
tained the superscrijition, was not to be found ;
but the circumstance of its being in Edgar Ran-
dolpli's possession, was deemed suthcient evi-
dence that ho was the person to whom it had
been sent by the writer. No longer ago than
last evening, I received a letter from this Mr. J.
Dalton, in which he stated that some si.x or
seven weeks since, he wrote to a young man by
the name of Bertram Clavering, whose wherea-
bouts, after a good deal of trouble, he had suc-
ceeded in ascertaining. He wrote, he said, for
the purpose of demanding the payment of one
thousand dollars, which had long been due, and
that having received no answer to his letter, he
concluded that Clavering intended to elude the
payment of the debt. Mr. Dalton's object in
writing to me, was to request my professional
services in the matter, but by it, a far greater
object is attained — that of removing suspicion
from Edgar Randolph, and fastening it on Ber-
tram CLavering.'*
A minute detail of what followed is unneces-
sary. The acquittal of the accused was received
with rapturous enthusiasm. Smiles were on
every face, and on some they gave additional
brightness to happy and joyful tears.
Edgar, whose demeanor had hitherto been
marked with the calm dignity of conscious inno-
cence, was not prepared for the lively and sin-
cere demonstration of sympathy with which he
was now greeted. For a few minutes he was
overwhelmed with emotion too deep for words.
But his silence was more eloquent than lan-
guage. When the excess of emotion had some-
what subsided, his first thought was of the ab-
sent, and on a scrap of paper he wrote with a
pencil :
"Dear Mother — Dear Virginia : — The cloud
that has so darkly brooded over us, has passed
away. I am free — I shall be with you this even-
ing. E. R."
One might have imagined that Briareus was
present, with his hundred hands, so large was
the number held out to receive the missive tlie
moment it was finislied ; and the boy who ob-
tained it, was considered peculiarly fortunate in
being thus self-delegated to convey the message
dictated by duty and affection. Mr. Randolph
stood by, unconscious that silent tears of joy
were streaming over his checks. By an appear-
ance of fortitude, he had hoped to contribute to-
wards sustaining the courage of those dearest to
him. Now that the necessit}' of restraint no
longer existed, the strong curb Avhich he had put
on his feelings became manifest.
That evening, as he and his wife and son, and
Virginia Lee sat together — for even the best be-
loved friends deigned not obtrude themselves on
a scene, consecrated by the holier ties of affection
— they fully realized that the cloud which had
brooded over them had indeed passed away.
A warrant was issued for the arrest of Claver-
ing, as the supposed murderer. The officer suc-
ceeded in tracing him, but he was already near
that bourn wlience no traveller returns, from
the effects of a wound received in a brawl with
one who had won from him a heavy sum at the
gaming-table.
He confessed that he murdered the stranger,
and then robbed him, to which he was instigated
by overhearing him tell Edgar Randolph the
object of his journey to the next town. After
obtaining the money, however, he was afraid to
make use of it for the purpose of paying Mr.
Dalton. Neither did he dare remain in the
place, though he had committed the crime in
order to procure the means of liquidating the
debt, so that he might rest unmolested, and have
the opportunity to win Virginia Lee for his
l»ridc, and what he valued much more highly,
the twenty thousand dollar?-, which would be
hers on the day of her marriage, together with
the valuable lands which were hers in prospec-
tive. He proved, as the guilty ever must, sooner
or later, that " the wages of sin is death."
Eor the future, Edgar l^andolph was more
wary in the selection of tliose on whom he wished
to bestow his confidener-. Having been deceived
by the fascinating exterior of Clavering, ho
learned to look beneath the surface.
"After all," said Virginia, as she sat very de-
murely, putting a few finishing stitches to wliat
was intended for her l)ridul dress, " I don't think
you are so good a judge of character as I jim.
I never liked that Clavering. He always in-
spired me with secret dread which I could not
account for. My good angel must have been
near me, at tliose times, I imagine."
"He was, no doubt," replied Edgar, "other-
wise, how could you have been so insensible to
his singularly fascinating manners ?"
"0, as to that," replied Virginia, smiling,
" you know that there was a counter attraction."
[Written for Glcason'a Pictorial.]
TRIPPING DOWN THE LANE.
BY BYDNET E. CflUECH.
I«iig ago, one summer morning,
Brightly shone the sun ;
O'er the de^vy fields adorning,
Gilding every one.
And while gazing o'er the grassy,
Irfafy fields again ;
There I saw a little lasBie
Tripping down the lane.
Gazed I yet a moment longer,
With admiring eye,
At the little sylph before me,
Tripping lightly by.
Saw I e'er such golden ringlets,
Eyes of heavenly blue ;
Teeth like pearls, and lips like rosea,
Wet with morning dew.
Ah, that was a beauteous morning,
Full of joy to me ;
Long that hour vnW rise before me,
Fresh in memorj'.
Now she sits beside me, ever
Smiling yet again ,
As she smiled, when first I met her
Tripping down the lane.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A LION FOR TEN MINUTES.
BY THE OLD *UN.
Jared Horseeunker was returning from
the far West, after an unsuccessful trading ex-
cursion, very low in pocket and spirits, and hid-
ing his inward poverty by the decent externals
of a black velveteen frock, rather extravagantly
trimmed with braid, after the fashion of show-
men and organ-grinders, and a Kossuth hat and
feather of the newest pattern. In Mexico he
had acquired a decided taste for beard and mus-
tachios, and hence his face was most romantically
and melo-dramatically " hirsute." In this con-
dition he embarked on the railroad, on
his easterly journey. The cars had a fine nm
from Braggtown to Pokerville, killing the usual
number of cows, and ranning off the track the
usual number of times.
At Pokerville the cars stopped, and our hero,
not aware of the brevity of their pause, made for
a distant grocery to procure some refreshments.
Returning to the station, he had the satisfaction
of seeing the train vanishing in the ditcance,
leaving a long stratum of smoke, flaunting from
the funnel, like a pennant from the main-top of
a merchantman. As Jared had expended nearly
his last shilling in procuring a railroad ticket,
and as the valise containing all his worldly effects
was vanishing at the rate of twenty-seven miles
anhour.bis " pheelings," as Mr. Charles Yellow-
plsuh has it, may be more easily imagined than
desci'ibed.
At this moment of ill fortune and despair, our
hero beheld a crowd of people rushing towards
him and waving their hats in the air. In a mo-
ment he was surrounded by an eager multitude,
headed by the 'squire of Pokerville, the leading
magnate of the place.
" Hurrah for Kozzhoot !" shouted the 'squire.
"Hurray! hurray!" echoed the unterrified.
Jared took off his hat and bowed; he saw a
promising "spec" before him.
" Talk to him, 'squire," said a nian, in a low-
crowned felt hat. ^" You kin do it better'n any-
body else."
"GoveiTior Kozzhoot!" said the 'squire, con-
cealing one hand under his coat tails, and ex-
tending the other in the fashion of a jjaralytic
pump-handle, " my feller-citizens has done me
the honor to make me their spokesman in wel-
come. Sir, we hid you welcome to this town,
one of tlie most flourishing of the numerous towns
and villages of the far West, with a population
of five hundred, and prospects of a speedy in-
crca.se — a town, sir, that boasts of a grocery, a
school-house and a tavern, erected with a total
disregard of expense ; yes, sir, and a railway
station, erected where the wild Indian once pur-
sued hU flying prey, and the American eagle
now folds Iiis stan-ed and striped wings in the
glorious consciousness of emancipation from the
stamp act and the Boston port bill. Sir, Poker-
ville has heard of you and your exploits, and
now proposes to offer you the freedom of the
town. Sir, once more 1 bid you wehomc."
This speech had lasted long enough to give
Jared the opportunity of collecting his thoughts.
With a pleasing foreign accent he replied as
follows :
" Mistair 'squire, and you citizens of Poker-
ville : pardon the strangeness of me accent, but
tmst tlic emotions of me heart. Hurrying east-
ward, on me great mission, it was only through
accident that I am here. The next train must
bear me on me way. Do me the justice to be-
lieve that I had heard of Pokerville long before
the star of Ilungaiy set in a sea of blood. A
friend sent me at Buda the ttrst number of the
'Pokerville Gazette and Skyrocket of Literature
and Intelligence.' I read it by the low-burning
watch-fire, guarded hy my trusty Magyars. I
knew that Pokerville had sworn upon the altars
of freedom eternal odiosity to absolutistical pre-
tentiousness.
" I accept the freedom of your town, and re-
turn you my thanks. Your words arc very kind.
S}-mpathy is sutticient for the man — but the pa-
triot, pleading his country's cause, requires ma-
terial aid. * Fine words,' as your great Shaks-
peare has it, 'will not butter parsnips ;' neither
will they purchase musketry. Pardon, then, the
poor exile. You can take his hat — but you must
return it full of dimes."
Jared's hat circulated freely among his gener-
ous auditors, and a very handsome amount was
speedily collected and transferred from the cro'mi
to the pockets of the applicant.
He was pressed with invitations to pass a day
— a week — a month at Pokerville. The 'squire
invited him to inspect the town — the grocery
store-keeper offered any amount of gratuitous
refreshments — he was invited to attend a scrub-
race, a cock-fight, and a raffle — but all to no pur-
pose ; he gravely shook his head, and muttered :
" My country, gentlemen : Hungary ! my
mission !"
Soon another train came roaring np on the
railroad. It was an express ; hut the depot mas-
ter agreed to hoist a red flag and stop it. Shak-
ing the hand of the 'squire warmly, Jared sprang
upon the platform of the last car, and waved an
adieu with hat and plume. As the train was
disappearing, however, he could not avoid ap-
plying his thumb to his nose hy way of a parting
salute. But the inhabitants of Pokerville are
simple people, and to tliis day they boast of hav-
ing enjoyed the company of the illustrious Mag-
yar, and-conti-ibutcd material aid to his glorious
cause. Of course our friend Jared never unde-
ceived them.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE PAST.
BY ANM£ MOTT.
The past, the sunny, joyous past,
That sped so quick away ;
We 'd fain have Itmgthened out its joys,
And bid time's band t« stay.
The past, with all its changing scenes,
The darksome, bitter past;
Its hopes that bloomed but for to die,
Its joys too sweet to last.
Dear friends, we 've known in old, past
Arc resting calmly now ;
They sleep a quiet, peaceful sleep,
Bf neath the sod laid low.
Fond memory brings the happy past,
To cheer the drooping heart ;
'Tis sweet to think of by -gone times,
When friends are called to part.
And though the bitter past may throw
A cloud o'er present joys,
Yet time will bring a healing power,
A balm for all our woes.
A IIAPPy HOME.
Six things, says Hamilton, are requisite to
create a "happy home." Integrity must be the
architect, and tidiness the upholsterer. It must
be warmed by affection, and liii.hlcd up with
cliecrfnlness, and industry must be the ventilator,
renewing the atmosphere and bringing in fresh
salubrity day by day ; while over all, a.s a pro-
tecting glory and cano]\v, nothing will suffice
except the blessing of God.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
91
[Written for Gleasou'e Pictorial.]
THE BEATH OF MISS SUSAN OARES.
BY CAROLINE A. HATDEN.
She sleepeth calmly now I
The seal of death is resting on her brow ;
And the white roses love has scattered there,
Are fitting emblems of a life so fair.
She died, as die the young,
Ere life it>* shadowy veil had o'er her flung ;
With love's bright halo circling round her brow,
Wrapt in her bridal robes she sleepeth cabnly now.
Affection's chains are riven I
" Ashes to ashes, dust to drst arc given ;"
And the unfettered spirit, free to roam,
Shall watch and welcome each beloved one home.
And you, whose watchful care
Made waning hfe a summer aspect wear ;
Earth hath no words to tell the soothing power
Of such unfaltering truth in death's dread hour.
Look up I and kiss the rod.
Even while thy footsteps press the broken sod ;
For she who resteth cahnly now, may be
The guardian angel of thy destiny.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TIME IS MONEY.
BY MRS. S. P. DOUGHXr.
" OriE carpet is really very shabby ; do you
not tliink we could afford a new one this spring V
asked Mi's. Brown, of her husband, as they sat
at their early breakfast.
" Perhaps so," was the somewhat doubtful re-
ply ; for Mr. Brown's income was by no means
large, and there were many depending upon him
for support.
" I should not have to ask you for the money,"
rejoined Mrs. Brown, "for I have the price of a
good carpet laid by from the profits of my vest-
making ; but I thought that it might be necessa-
ry to take it for other things."
" 0 no !" was the more animated reply. " If
you have the money by you, get the carpet by
all means. I was only doubtful whether I could
advance so much just now. It is but right that
you should make what use you please of your
own earnings."
" I like to expend them in making things a
little more comfortable than we could otherwise
afford to have them," said bis wife, affectionate-
ly. *' I do not intend to pay a high price for our
carpet, but I will have a good article. By-and-
by, when baby is sleeping, I will run into neigh-
bor Eeed's, and ask her advice. She makes the
greatest bargain of any person I ever saw."
" Very well ; manage it as you think best,"
returned Mi'. Brown, as he rose from the table
and prepared to go to his daily occupation; "but
if you are going to seek for a good bargain, look
out that you do not lose more than you gain."
With this short piece of advice, and a cheerful
" good-morning," the husband took his depar-
ture, and Mrs. Brown turned her attention to va-
rious domestic and motherly duties. She was a
busy little woman ; and in less time than you
■would imagine possible, the elder children were
prepared for school, the house set to rights, and
the baby laid in his cradle for a forenoon's nap.
Then, instead of seating herself at her usual em-
ployment of vest-making, she gave the little one
in charge to Susan, a faithful girl of fourteen,
who was at this time her only assistant, and
hastily tying on her bonnet, proceeded to Mrs.
Reed's, who was one of her nearest neighbors.
Her visit was at a most opportune moment.
Only the day before, Mrs. Heed had purchased
at auction a carpet, which, in her opinion, rival-
led in cheapness any ever before heard of, and
as her friend entered, she was just engaged in
spreading it upon the floor that she might the
better inspect the richness of its colors and firm-
ness of its texture.
Of course the sight of this most excellent bar-
gain was very strengthening to ilrs. Brown's
resolution to purchase her carpet at auction, and
she at once explained the object of her visit.
Mi's. Reed was delighted. Nothing suited her
better than to attend auctions ; and when all her
own wants were supplied, she was always ready
to go with an inexperienced friend.
"By all means get what you want at auction,"
she exclaimed. " It will cost you but half price,
and will be very nearly as good as new. Let me
think.. There is to be a large sale in the south,
em part of the city to-moiTow morning, at ten
o'clock. How will that suit you ? Very proba-
bly you will make a good bargain there. I will
go with you, as you are unused to such things."
"You are very kind," replied Mrs. Bro^vn,
hesitatingly ; and then added : " I was thinking
how I could arrange my "work so as to leave
home to-morrow. I have several vests on liand
just now; it is a busy season. Still, I cannot
afford to lose such an opportunity for making a
good bargain, for it is important for us to save
all we can ; so I believe I will go. If the sale
commences at ten, we shall probably return ear-
ly in the afternoon, and Susan can be trusted
with the baby."
"Well, then; I will call for you soon after
nine," was the reply ; and after a little more con-
versation, the neighbor returned to her own
house.
By great exertions, Mrs. Brown was in readi-
ness at the appointed hour the next morning,
with some secret misgivings, ao she glanced at
the pile of vests neatly cut out, one of which she
had hoped to have completed that day. She gave
Susan many charges, and was soon walking rap-
idly along with her impatient friend, who was
anxious to reach the place of sale at an early
hour, that they might have an opportunity of ex-
amining different articles before the crowd was
so great as to prevent their moving.
It was a new scene for Mi's. Brown, and she
looked on with silent wonder while Mrs. Beed
carefully examined the carpets still spread on
the various rooms, and with the experienced eye
of one accustomed to the business, pointed out
various imperfections, which would have escaped
a less practised observer; turned the chairs and
tables bottom upwards, to satisfy herself that
they w^ere what they appeared to be; shook up
feather beds, inspected mattresses, sounded
china, remarking at the same time that, although
she had no intention of buying anything, it was
always worth wMiile to know wbat an article was
worth, as excellent bargains were sometimes ob-
tained when you least expected it."
Mrs. Brown meanwhile was quite engrossed
in deciding which of the carpets would be the
most suitable for her pleasant little room, and in
wondering at what price she could obtain it.
She became impatient for the sale to commence.
It was already past the appointed hour, and the
rooms were gradually filling with the eager ex-
pectants for great bargains, but there was no
sign of the auctioneer.
Mrs. Becd was quite at her ease, for she had
little to call her home ; but her more anxious
neighbor thought of her baby in the cradle, of
the elder children returning from school, of her
husband's dinner, and various other home duties
which she did not often neglect. An hour pass-
ed on, and the desired moment at length arrived.
The sale began, and the attention of the greater
part of those present was at once directed to the
auctioneer. A few indeed seemed to take little
interest in what was going on, having merely
stepped in to while away a leisure hour ; these
still carried on an animated conversation on their
own affairs, to the no small annoyance of both
buyer and seller.
" When W'ill he put up the carpet which we
have selected V whispered Mrs. Brown, in a tone
of inquiry.
" 0, not for an hour yet ; do you not see ' lot
number forty *?*" replied her friend, referring to
the bill. " But just hear that, only four shillings
bid upon those lovely curtains, I do not need
them, but I cannot let them go at that. Pour
and threepence," she called out, just as the auc-
tioneer was knocking them off to the last bidder.
"Just in time," was the reply, and ]Mrs. Reed
became the possessor of the curtains.
"Do bid on that pretty table, my deai- Mrs.
Brown, it will go for a mere trifle," m-ged this
lover of excellent bargains; but Mrs. Brown
thought of her carpet, and recollected with a
sigh that it might require the whole contents of
her purse.
Her less economical friend hazarded a bid or
two, but fortunately there were too many compe-
titors, and she was saved from the inconvenience
of becoming the owner of an article for which
she really had no room in her house.
It was wonderful, however, how many un-
necessary things she contrived to obtain, merely
because ihey were cheap ; and Mrs. Brown sigh-
ed again as she thought of her limited means,
and longed for the moment to come when she,'
too, could join in the excitement of bidding.
"Lot number forty I" at length shouted the
auctioneer ; " an excellent three ply carpet, worth
at least twelve shillings a yard, cheap at that,
and good as new; what shall I have'?"
" Two shillings, my dear madam !" he con-
tinued, in reply to Mrs. Brown's eager bid ;
"why, I am already offered four (this bid, by the
way, was entirely inaudible to the bystanders),
and have no intention of selling it for that."
" Five shillings !" called out some one at a
distance, and disappointed and abashed, Mrs.
Brown shrunk back, whispering to her adviser :
" It is of no use for me to try for that. It will
go far beyond my means."
" Try a threepence," returned Mrs. Reed, at
the same time calling out " Five and threepence,"
but in vain, the carpet was desirable, and six,
seven, and even eight shillings, were soon bid
upon it.
" Try the one in the next room," said her
friend, but it was of no avail; the carpets all
went for a good price ; and quite weary and dis-
pu'ited, Mrs. Brown urged their departure.
" Only one minute," was the reply. " I must
see what that beautiful mirror goes for."
One delay brought another, and another, and
poor Mrs. Brown was but too thankful when
they at length stood upon the sidewalk, and
turned their steps towards home.
" Do not be discouraged," said Mrs. Reed.
" These things need a little time. But there is
to be an auction every day this week, and I pro-
mise you that, before Saturday night, you will
have as good a carpet as you can desire for a
mere trifle. I w^ill go with you as often as you
wish."
Mrs. Brown's spirits rose.
" But it is so difficult for me to leave home,"
she remarked.
" Only because you are so unaccustomed to it.
There is no cause for anxiety. You will find
that all has gone well in your absence."
This w^as tnie, and another appointment was
made for the following day.
No better success, however ; and for five suc-
cessive days, poor wearied Mrs. Brown, and hap-
py unwearied Mrs. Reed, passed several hours
in the vain search for a cheap carpet. Their
efforts were at length rew^arded. A good bar-
gain was obtained, and a carpet but little the
worse for wear, and of undiminished beauty, was
landed at Mrs. Brown's door.
" Well, I am certainly well rewarded for all
my trouble," she exclaimed to her husband, as
she displayed its beauties to his admiring eyes.
" This carpet could not have cost less than a
dollar a yard when new, so at the price I paid
for it, we have saved at least eight dollars, and I
am sure it is none the worse for wear."
" It is a good article, certainly," replied her
inore calculating spouse ; " but I am not so sure
that you have saved eight dollars. Let me see.
How many vests should you have made this
week, if you had not attended auctions?"
" Five, I suppose," replied the wife, with a
sigh ; for she had felt much regret at the neglect
of her usual employments.
"And how much would these have brought
you in V
" A dollar a piece. I never take less for the
kind of vests which I am now making."
" Five dollars loss and eight dollars gain," re-
sumed Ml". Brown. " That leaves just three
dollars clear profit, unless, indeed, there is some
further loss to be subtracted."
" That there is !" exclaimed his wife. " The
children have torn their clothes all to pieces run-
ning around with no one to look after them ; and
the poor baby has had so many bits of cake and
sugar given to him to keep him quiet, that he is
really quite ill. Added to all this, I am nearly
tired to death ; and the house is in such confu-
sion that it will take me a whole day to put
things to rights. I wonder I never thought of
all these things before. I really believe I had
better have bought a new carpet at once. Time
is money, after all, and the next time I see Mrs.
Reed I will tell her so."
" It will be of no use," was the somewhat
laughing reply of her husband. " Mrs. Reed is
one of those who do not value their time. Keep
your experience for your own benefit, and to en-
lighten those who are willing to be taught. You
will at least have the satisfaction of having gain-
ed a useful lesson from your new carpet."
TRUE EIN'OUGH.
Literary society, unless modified by knowledge
of the world or generous feeling, is far from de-
sirable. Professed authors wlio over-estimate
their vocation, are too full of themselves to be
agreeable companions. The demands of their
egotism are inveterate. They seem to be inca-
pable of that abandon which is the requisite con-
dition of social pleasure ; and bent upon winning
ft tribute of admiration, or some hint wiiich tbev
can turn to the account of pen-craft, there is sel-
dom in their company any of the delightful un-
consciousness which harmonizes a circle. — Tack-
eiinan.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DE SOTO.
BT JOSEPH H. BUTLER.
The discoverer of the Mississippi Eiver slept beneath its
waters. He had crossed a largo part of the continent in
search of gold, and found nothing so remarkable as hia
own burial place.
On the Mississippi's banks,
Spain's gallant chivalry-
Had ranged their shattered ranks.
Beneath a torrid sky ;
The sun -went redly do\vn
In the stirless crimson wavcB,
And the banners of the crown
Fell languid round their stavea.
XIpon his bed of pain
The stern De Soto lay,
No more to lead the sons of Spain
Through battle's steel array.
" TVarriors ! ■withhold your fears I"
The dying Soto said,
" Me with no useless tears
Shall ye number ^vith the dead ;
So may not Soto die —
The blood of ancient Spain
Should ebb mid martial revelry.
And shout on battle-plain.
" Then give the trumpet breath I
Wake the music of the drum I
When Soto yields to death
Shall the voice of war be dumb !
Clothe me in warrior's st«el,
When I, in death, am cold ;
And round this heart that may not feel.
Be Spain's proud banner rolled I
" Let my right hand grasp my sword,
At midnight still and deep ;
And where Mississippi's waves are poured,
liesign my dust to sleep 1
Mosscoso I take this ring !
Thine is a leader's post I
In knighthood honor, swear to bring
To Spain our shattered host !
" Seek thou not conquest here!
But back to noble Spain
Lead thou our every spear,
Across the distant main i
The conqueror, Soto, dies !
His hour of death is now !
AJl fear my banner where it flies,
To God, alone, I bow !"
The ghostly watch of night
Came in its ebon pall.
Amid five hundred torches bright.
And the death drum's solemn call.
They clothed him for the tomb,
In habiliments of mail ;
His sword was in his hand,
His plume shadowed his features pale.
A remnant of the brave.
With monks in orders due,
Then bore him to his watery grave,
Mid the torches' sanguine hue.
The echoes woke from sleep.
As the thunders of the gun,
Amid the forests deep,
Told when the rites were done.
Quenched is that eye of fire.
That heart hath ceased to beat ;
The forest is his funeral pyre,
The wave — his winding sheet !
LABOK.
Labor, honest labor, is mighty and beautiful.
Activity is the ruling element of life, and iis
highest relish. Luxuries and conquests are the
results of labor; we can imagine nothing without
it. The noblest man of earth is he who puts
hands cheeifully and proudly to honest labor.
Labor is a business and ordinance of God. Sus-
pend labor, and where is the gloi7 and pomp of
earth — the fruit, fields, and palaces, and the fash-
ionings of matter for which men strive and war I
Let the labor-scorner look to himself, and learn
what are the trophies. From the crown of his
head to the sole of his foot, unless he is a Carib,
naked as the beast, he is the debtor and slave of
toil. The labor which he scorns has tricked him
into the stature and appearance of aman. Where
gets he his garmenting and equipage 1 Let labor
answer. Labor — which makes music in the
mine, and the fuiTOw^, and the forge. 0, scorn
labor, do you — man who never yet earned a
morsel of bread 1 Labor pities you, proud fool,
and laughs jou to scorn. You shall pass to
dust, forgotten, but labor will live on forever,
glorious in its conquests and monuments. — Ex-
change pape}\
(Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
BY J. HTJKT, JR.
As sinks the storm, when wintry winds no more
Across the sky with angry force are driven ;
As lashing waves, recoiliug from the shore.
Leave the main calm, as on a summer even :
So do the righteoiis at the close of life,
When death has bid the waning passions cease,
Sink into rest, and thus from worldly strife,
They 're borne to realms of sacredness and peace.
92
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING EOOM COMPANION.
-n'^^^^-a^^X.
SINGULAR ARTIFICE OF THE PARTRIDGE, IN DEFENCE OF ITS YOUNG BROOD.
Upon this page we give two interesting scenes,
the one above representing the instinctive iti-tifice
of the partridge m defence of its young ; and the
one below presenting a view of the stubble-
field, or locality where the bird is usually found,
and the sportsman and pointers starting the
game. The partridges pair early in the spring;
the female lays from fourteen to eighteen or
twenty eggs, making her nest of dry leaves and
grass upon the ground. The young birds learn
to run as soon as hatched, frequently encumber-
ed with part of the shell sticking to them. Tlie
affection of the partridge for her young is strong
and lively ; she is greatly assisted in the care of
rearing them by her mate ; they lead them out
in common, call them together, and point out to
them their proper food, and assist them in find-
ing it ; they frequently sit close to each other,
covering the chickens with their wings. In this
situation, if discovered, the male first gives the
signal of alarm by a peculiar cry of distress,
throwing himself, at the same moment, more im-
mediately into the way of danger. In order to
deceive or mislead the enemy, he flies, or rather
runs along the ground, hanging his wings, and
exhibiting every symptom of debility, whereby
the dog is decoyed, in the too eager expectation
of an easy prey, to a distance from the covey ;
the female flies off in a contrary direction and to
a greater distance, but retm*ning soon after by
secret ways, she finds her scattered brood closely
squatted among the grass, and collecting them
with haste, she leads them from the danger, be-
fore the dog has had time to return from his
pursuit. The length of this bird is about thirteen
inches. The female has no crescent on the
breast, and her colors in general are not so dis-
tinct and bright as those of the male. Partridges
are found chiefly in temperate climates ; the ex-
tremes of heat and cold arc ungenial to them.
THE STUBBLE FIELD. PARTRIDGE SHOOTING.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
93
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEINTS OF OUR NEXT NUaiBER.
" Grace Richmotiil, or the Double Marriage," a story,
hj Mrs. M. E. RoBixaox.
*' Buying a Live Elephant," a funny tale with a whole-
some moral, by the Young 'Un.
" The Polish Slave," a story of tyranny in Europe, by
Francis A. Duritage.
" Filling up the Gaps," a fine prose sketch, by Mrs. E.
Wellmont.
" God keep my Memory green," lines, by Caroline A.
Hatden.
" Where dwell the Angels ?" verses, by Joseph W. Nye.
"In the Shade," verses, by Geo. Casning Hill.
"A Song," by Joseph H. Bdtler.
" The Evening Star," in verse.
"Musings." lines, by D. Hardi', Jr.
"Myrrha," a poem, by E. J. RANDrBOE.
" The Sea Shore,'- verses, by Mrs. M. W. CORTIS.
ILLTTSTRATIONS.
"VTe shall give an excellent picture of the Pilot's Monu-
ment, erected by the New York pilots, in Greenwood
Cemetery, in honor of the memory of a brave and gener-
ous pilot, Thomas Freeborn, drawn bv our artist, Mr.
IVa'ie .
A very fine fac-simile of the splendid Prize Medal of tho
Amoskeag Manufacturing Company, presented at the
World's Fair, London.
A fine view of the New Railway and General Traffic
Bridge, at Dresden, a novel structure across the Elbe.
A very beautiful picture of the great Actress, liachel,
as she appears iu the characters of Valeria and Lysisca.
A very fine illustration by our arti.st, Mr. C/iaptH, repre-
senting the Funeral Car and Procession at the late melan-
choly ceremony in memory of Mr. Clay ; one of the most
gorgeous and sad scenes that has been mtnessed for years
in New York. Also a very effective picture by the same
artist, showing Stewart's Marble Palace, as draped for the
solemn occasion.
An excellent Likeness Bust of the late Hon. Henry
Clay, draped in mourning, and surrounded by appropriate
emblems.
We shall present a perfect engraving of the town of St.
Helens. Oregon Territory, drawn for us by our artist, Mr.
Warren. This place, it will be remembered, is the depot
of the Pacific Mail Steam Ship Company.
We shall also give a finely executed picture of a bust of
Madame Malibran ; also a very beautiful statue of the
same celebrated vocalist, and a picture of the tomb where
her dust reposes. This queen of tbe" divine art "de-
serves the honors she has received.
A very correct and excellent view will be presented of
Rangoon, the principal port of the Burman Empire.
A characteristic view of Boston Ravine, Grass Valley,
California, drawn by our artist, Mr. ]S[anning,
A fine view of the oldest church erected in the United
States, at Hiugbam, Massachusetts, having been built in
the 3 ear 1681, drawn on the spot by our artist, Mr.
Mailory.
< -^m^ >
A NE^V ARTICLE.
The Charleston Courier says: "We now have
on our desk, for the inspection of the curious, a
sample of wliat the Indians of tlie Amazon call
' Zanianma.* It is the production of a tree
growing wild in that valley, and used by its in-
habitants for their fine textures. It somewhat
resembles in appearance and fineness our costly
Sea Ishind Cottons, but with much less strength
of staple. The above sample was sent here by
Lieut. Mamy, U. S. N., who is now devoting
himself to the development of the immense re-
sources of that fertile region, with tlie earnest
hope of making them subservient to tiie mercan-
tile purposes of this country."
SPLINTERS.
Alfred Jaell has been very successful
professionally in Albany.
.... Wanted, a drummer to beat time for the
" mai'ch of intellect."
.... The U. S. surveying schooner Active,
was at San Francisco at last dates.
.... Gen. Scott, we are sorry to say, is very
ill with the dysentery.
Wm. Fenno, a shoemaker in Philadel-
phia, cut his own throat and died.
.... Jenny Lind has gone home to Stockholm
with hor husband.
.... The Germanians are at Newport, en-
gaged for the season.
The coming theatrical season promises
to be a very brilliant one in America.
.... A candle-maker advertises for a pair of
snutFers for the " light of other days."
.... The Montplaisier troupe have been de-
lighting the citizens of Buffalo.
.... New York has forwarded over SIO.OOO
to the relief of the Montreal sufferers.
.... A block of granite from Cape Cod is
talked offer the Washington Monument.
Mr. Tukey, late chief of police for Bos-
ton, now practises law in this city.
.... The poor may be content, and the con-
ented are rich. This is philosophy.
KOSSUTH.
This illustrious exile has at length, after a
most brilliant career, departed from our shores,
and the manner of his doing it has been made
the subject of exultation and derisive comment,
on the part of some of those presses which have
all along distinguished themselves by hostility to
tlic person and the cause of the great Magyar.
For ourselves, we can perceive notliing ungrace-
ful or undignified in the step he took, to avoid
all unnecessary and expensive display, by going
incognito on board of the steamship, which was
to bear him from our shores. It will be remem-
bered that, from the first, Kossuth disdained all
personal honors, and that he persisted in regard-
ing the magnificent military and civic displays,
prompted by a high enthusiasm, meeting him
everywhere, and converting the passage of an ex-
iled apostle of liberty into something resembling
the progress of a triumphant conqueror, not as a
tribute to his personal merit, but as so many to-
kens of respect for his country, and the great
cause of which he was the champion. It was
not the poor exile that was honored, he said, but
the spirit of freedom struggling for existence.
He was welcomed to our shores by the roar of
cannon, the pealing of bells, and the loud huzzas
of a hundred thousand men. He bore this wel-
come with true meekness and modesty. We are
sure that lie would have preferred a less ostenta-
tious reception. A military guard of honor at-
tended liis quarters in New York. For this,
Kossuth has been severely censured. But this
guard of honor was a voluntary tribute of exiles
like himself, and he could not have declined their
mode of testifying their regard without wound-
ing their feelings, and laying himself open to the
charge of unkindness ; yet this simple affair of
the guard of honor was made the basis of a
charge of pride and aristocratic tendency in Kos-
suth. But was he not accessible to all? Was
not the grasp of hand as warm, and his greeting
as kind, when he pressed the toil-worn fingers of
the laborer, as when he touched the soft palm of
tlie rich and delicately-nurtured '?
And now he is censured because he left our
shores without display. "Ah!" say his eager
censors, "had he embarked publicly, you would
Iiave seen how coldly his departure would have
been noticed : what a contrast it would have
afforded to the brilliancy of his reception !" It
is perfectly safe to make such assertion. But
we happen to know the warm hearts of the peo-
ple of New York ; we know they are not a fickle
race ; we know their boundless hospitality, and
how they are ever ready to
" Welcome the coming — speed the parting guest ;"
and we feel convinced that they would have come
out en masse to pay their parting respects to Kos-
suth, had the opportunity been afforded them.
But the Magyar had accomplished his purpose.
He had traversed this country in its length and
breadth, rousing up the hearts of men by his
fiery eloquence, awakening the warmest sympa-
thies for tiie cause of Hungary, and the cause of
universal liberty, receiving for his countrymen
the most substantial proofs of the sincerity of
this enthusiasm. And be it ever borne in mind,
that Kossuth stood upon no narrow basis. He
spoke not for Hungary alone, but for humanity.
He beheld the gloi'ious freedom of this country
in no envious spirit; he rejoiced — he exulted in
it; and his projects for the emancipation of his
native land embraced plans for the disenthral-
ment of all Europe. Hence timid conservatives
called him a radical, a demagogue, an agrarian
— everything that selfislincss and cowardice could
invent. We concede that Kossuth made some
mistakes, and uttered some ill-considered views ;
but in the vast multitude of speeches he deliver-
ed, amidst the most contagious excitement, could
he have made fewer ? In forming our judgment
of the man, we look to the spirit of his eloquence,
the whole tone of his career, 'rather than to each
letter of his language. We believe him to be a
sincere, true-hearted, patriotic man, gifted with
rare talent ; and we believe that the influence he
has exerted here by his eloquence, will tend to
strengthen our love of country, and our appre-
ciation of the blessings of tlie institutions under
which we live.
Gold. — The shipment of gold from San Fran-
cisco, in tlie month of June up to the ISth,
amounted to 35,350,000, without including that
in the hands of passengers.
Extensive. — The burnt district in Montreal
is one and a quarter mile wide, and two miles
long.
STATUE OF THE DUKE OF MELIiINGTON.
On the last page of the present number we
present, for the gratification of our readers, a
fine frtc-simile of the f;tmous Count d'Orsay sta-
tuette of that old English war-horse and pet of
royalty, the Duke of Wellington. The duke is
represented as watching the progress of a battle.
He holds the reins in both hands, which are in
repose, altliough ready to be put in muscular ac-
tion at an instant. In the right hand lie also
holds a telescope. The entire pose of the figure
on the horse evinces consummate power of con-
ception. The steed may be supposed to have
become wearied with remaining for some time in
one position, and is straiuing his legs for ease,
as he paws the ground with the off' fore-one.
This arrangement, whilst it is purely natural,
assists the pyramidal outline of the composition.
By the bending of the head, another gieat effect
is also gained — the animal becomes subservient
to the man ; in no point can the statue be re-
garded so that the duke does not at once rivet
the attention, even immediately in front and be-
low the figures. The likeness is admirably pre-
served ; taken, of course, at the period of the
most active campaigns in which his grace was
concerned ; and, we understand, the resemblance
is highly extolled by all those who can readily
call his features, at that time, to mind. But,
perhaps, the greatest point of excellence in this
performance is the talent which Count d'Orsay
has shown in overcoming the ill effect, as regards
elegance, usually produced by the costume of
modern times. The duke is here habited in his
plain military undress frock and sash — the man-
ner, by the way, in which all statues should be
executed, — and yet nothing can be more purely
classical than the handling of tlie subject. Alto-
gether the des'ign is a very beautiful one, and
our artist has done for us full justice in enabling
us to present it to our readers in so perfect and
beautiful a manner.
FANNING BY STEAM.
Mr. Whipple, the daguerreotypist. No. 96,
Washington Street, has a most admirable plan
for the comfort of his visitors this hot weather.
In one comer of the room, near where his pic-
tures are taken, is placed a fan, made on the
principle of the wind-mill, which, being set in
rapid motion by the steam engine used in the
preparation of his plates, gives a current of air
equal to a strong " Nor'-wester." As one can
imagine, this is most refreshing when the ther-
mometer is up to 90 degrees, and not a breath of
an* stirring in the street.
G.A.S AT Newburyport. — Workmen are brisk-
ly employed in laying pipes in the streets of
Newburyport, preparatory to the introduction of
gas into that city. A large gas house is also in
process of erection at the corner of Union and
Water streets.
A L.vKGE Instrument. — The great organ for
St. Patrick's Catiicdral, New York, built at a
cost of S7000, has forty-two stops, three sets of
keys, two octaves of pedals, and over 2000 pipes ;
is 45 feet high, 2S feet wide, and 14 feet deep.
Internal Commdnication. — G. W. Pine
has gone from New York with seventy men, for
the purpose of constructing a wooden railway
from Lake Nicaragua to the Pacific, about twelve
miles.
Graphic. — The Evening Post says : "The
White Mountains are, like the Niagara Falls, or
the Tyrolian Alps, the punctuation points upon
the page of nature to make pause in its perusal."
A Monument. — A subscription paper for the
erection of a monument to Henry Clay, has
been started in New York. It has already been
numerously signed, without distinction of party.
t »■» *
Incipient Romance. — A young Irish girl
has been arrested in New York for wearing sail-
or's clothes. She said she wished to go back to
Ii'eland, and intended to sliip as a sailor.
A great Enterprise. — Mr. McAlpine has
been employed to survey Hudson Kiver, and as-
certain tlie practicability of a ship channel to
Albany.
Military. — The New York National Guards
have been on a visit to our city. They are ?. fine
company, under excellent discipline.
Musical. — Ord way's iEolians are doing a
fine business at Portland, during the summer
season.
In tlds city, by Rev. Dr. Nealc, Mr. David Porter Prcs-
cott to Miss Ann Maria White.
By Uev. Dr. Stow, Mr. William 0. Wallace to Miss Roge
ner Mar.^h, both of Blackstone.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. Calvin Hutchins to Miss Sa
rah F. Burnham.
By Rev. Mr. Bourne, Mr, Thomas J. Toung to Miss Su-
san P. Randall, of Newburyport.
By Rev. Dr. Blagden, Sir. Charles G. Tilton, of Fairha-
ven, to Mi.ss Maria C. Fisher, of Edgarto"Ti.
By WiUirtm Palfrey, Esq., Mr. William Lindsey, of Pitta-
burg, Pa., to Miss Maria Blaisley.
At Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Hoppin, Mr. Arthur L. Dev-
ens, of Ware, to Miss Agnes H. UTiite.
At Salem, by Rev Dr. Emerson, Mr. John P. Honnors
to Miss Ellen E. Coomer. »
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Berry, Mr. Thomas Cummings,
of Westford, to Mrs. Maria Badger,
At Newburyport, by Rev. Dr. Chapman, of Brooklj-n,
N. T., Capt. R. K. Jackman to Mrs. Hannah G. Howard.
At Pittsfield, by Rev. Dr. Todd, Rer. Stephen C. Strong,
of Northampton, to Miss Mvra P. Brown.
At Brattleboro', Vt., by Rer. Mr. Cutting, Mr. Charles
Miller to Miss Mary E. Farr, both of Walpole, N. H.
At "Vernon, Vt., Mr. Charles L. Johnson, of Boston, to
Miss Angelina Hanney, of Richmond, N. H.
At Pawtucket, R. I., Mr. George W. Babcock, of Provi-
dence, to Mrs. Patience Allen, of Cranston.
At Baton Rouge, La., Lieut. Henry F. Maynadier, U. S.
Army, to Miss Julia Barker.
At Saeramento, Cal., Mr. Stephen Smith, of Dartmouth,
Ms., to Miss Mary Edw.arcls, of Wareham, Ms.
In this city, Mr. John F. Pollow, 44 ; Miss Melissa F.
Hayes, 15; Mrs. Eliza Dudley, 67 ; ML=b Mary K. Wilde,
26 ; Mrs. Catharine M. E. Gavett, 35 : Mrs. Ann J. Lor-
ing, 34 ; Mrs. Susan Hubbard, 44 ; Georgiana R., daugh-
ter of Mr. Silas Sweet, 10; Mrs. Caroline C. RusseU, 38.
At Charlestown, Mr. Jabez Hayward, 66.
At Brighton. Daniel Kimball, Esq., of Littleton, 71.
At Lowell, Mr. Robert Sissoti, 75.
At Methuen. Mr. Jonathan Moi^e, 33.
At Groton, Mrs. Maria A., wife of Dr. N. Smith, 24,
At New Bedford. Mrs. Nancy Church. 74.
At Nantucket, Mr. George Abrams, 59.
At South Hadley, Mr. Alden L. Graves, 29.
At Brimfield, Mrs. Abby P., wife of Rev. J. Morse.
At North Adams, Widow Susan Witherell, 86.
At Sherborn, Mr. Edward Leland.
At Chatham, Mrs. Mehitable Sears, 93.
At Conway, Blr. Stephen T\"hitney, 70.
At Oakham, Mr. Nathan D. Bond, 54.
At Chicopee, Mrs, Rebecca B. Robinson, 69.
At Hopkinton, Mr. John L. Valentine, 50.
At Dover, N. H., Mrs. Elizabeth Alden, of Conn., 85.
At Epping, N. H., Mrs. Sarah Plumer, 80.
At Manchester, N. H,, Mrs, Susan R. Barnes, 44,
At Bath, Me., Capt. Robert Bosworth, 52.
At Winslow, Me., Lemuel Paine, Esq., 75,
At Hartford, Mo., Mr, Seth Sturtevant, 93.
At Providence, R. [., Dea. Charles Shaw, 68.
At Lacon, 111., Mr. Ira 0. Beaumont, 38.
At St. Louis, Mrs. Louisa A. Hall, 85.
At Panama, Col. E. Green, editor of the " Herald."
Ik mmmm mmmm^
— AND —
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTOEIAL
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di
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Wi'itton for aioiwoii'a I'ictorlal.]
ALICE BOURNE:
— OJt —
THE STRENGTH OF THE HEART.
DY GKO. CANNING HILL.
*' O God ! Let only this cup pass from mc !"
Tlio prayer was a fervent one, and filled with
a wild earnestness. Its low syllables — low, yet
fearfully distinct — lost themselves in echoes
among the dusky beams and time-worn rafters.
They fell against tlie darkened roof. She who
uttered them had faith tliat they ascended and
reached Heaven.
This fervid prayer fell from the lips of a pale
and ghostly-looking woman, wlio knelt by a little
low bed, in a forsaken garret. It was somewhat
late in the evening, and the silver flood of a full
summer moon poured in through the half opened
window upon the floor. The street sounds rose,
subdued and mellowed, to her ears, and saddened
her with the fresh and green memories they called
back to life in her heart.
There was no other light in the apartment but
that of the round moon. It had climbed just
above the adjoining roofs and gables, and made
the distant steeples and spires look like slender
rods of silver, pointing heavenward. They, too,
inspired the heart of the woman with fresh hope
and new courage, for they revealed to her the
silent realms whence all earthly hopes came.
Her eyes lingered upon them as 6he glanced out
at the window, and her heart felt a new strength
given it.
The woman was still quite young, perhaps not
more than twenty-one or two. Her ej'cs seemed
very large, and very much sunken. They were
blue, likewise, and looked all the more melan-
choly. Her hair was brushed carelessly away
from her forehead, as if she had little thought of
its care. A placid smile, speaking volumes of
unwritten suffering, and disclosing miracles of
patience, and faith, and resignation, and self-
denying love, settled about her mouth, and added
to the fixed melancholy that brooded like a sha-
dow over her whole countenance.
Upon the little bed lay a young child. Its
years were few, and death seemed to have come
to stop their passage where they were. It tossed
restlessly about upon the bed until this ejacula-
tion escaped its mother's lips, and then, as by
some hidden cause, lay perfectly still.
The mother feared it had gone, and bent over
her head to discover the truth, let it be as fearful
as it might. Just at that instant the child mur-
mured, as if in a disturbed sleep.
" Mother, shall I ever go with you to grand-
papa's V
It cost the smitten mother an effort to speak.
Her heart was rent and torn through with the
thorns that grew thickly about the roses in her
memory.
" Shall we go and see grandpapa to-morrow,
mother?" persisted the child, now opening wide
its eyes upon the stricken parent.
" No, Agnes," replied she ; " you are not w^ell
enough to go to see grandpapa yet. You must
be patient — very patient, dear ;" her eyes filled
with tears, and she turned them up sadly at the
moon. " And when you get well again, perhaps
you may go."
There was a pause. The silence was like that
of death itself to the poor mother.
"But shall I die, mother," pursued the artless
child, " so that I can never see grandmama ?
Wont I see her in heaven V
The mother wept bitterly, without a reply.
Her heart bled at every pore.
"Why do you cry so, mother'?" asked Agnes,
stretching out her shadowy arms to wind them
about her mother's neck. " I am not afraid to
die. Should you be afraid, mother ? If I die,
wont you come soon, too V
" Do not talk so, my darling !" exclaimed her
mother, in a low but agonized voice ; and she
drew her offspring tenderly to her throbbing
breast, as if she would not again release her,
even to the cold clutch of death.
"But I know I must die," still persisted the
child, ignorant of the torture she produced. " I
know I must die, mother. I am so weak. How
bright the moon is to-night, dear mother ! Does
it shine in here, too ?"
" Yes, my darling !"
" And will it always shine in here, when I am
dead, till you come and kiss mc in heaven?
Will you come soon, mother dear? Will you
bring grandmama and grandpapa, too?"
. At this point she began to wander. She ut-
tered words that were barbed to her mother's
heart. She went on with her innocent prattle
for some time, and then slowly, and almost im-
perceptibly, sunk away into a deep and dream-
loss slumber.
The young and lovely |)arent sat and watched
her quick breathing; and during those sad
watches, she prayed. Such prayers oamc only
from cru.shed,and bleeding, and agonized hearts.
The deepest griefs and the most poignant suffer-
ings only can draw them out of the soul.
While the child thus slept, and after tlie mo-
ther had renewed her strengtli with prayer, there
came visions to the eyes of the latter, as she con-
tinued gazing out on tlic face of the argent moon.
There was a dark gulf yawning before her for
her future ; but the eyes of her soul were not
directed thither. They were turned backward —
backward to the past.
She sat again beneath the screening shadows
of the shrubbery that walled in her father's house,
and her heart danced with living hopes of happi-
ness. Another sat by her side in the soft silence
of the summer night, and he held her hand gen-
tly in his own, and both gazed thoughtfully at
the rising moon. Few words were spoken, for
theh" hearts were too full of happiness. They
were betrothed.
She had another vision, — one that caused her
sad heart to swell almost to bursting.
She was standing in the little parlor of her
quiet rural home. The white-haired minister
was before her, speaking in his solemn and trem-
ulous tones. On either side were ranged the
friends of her youth, the sunshine of smiles
breaking out over all their welling and rolling
tears. It was amixed scene, in which varied emo-
tions were visible ; but the joy loomed up much
larger than the grief. It was a day of hope ; and
hope always makes the brightest sunshine in the
heart.
She took her farewell — how strangely it all
came up to her now ! — and went out from be-
neath her father's roof. Yet she neither faltered
nor feared. She leaned now upon a new arm,
which she believed full of vigor. It was the arm
of her youthful husband. And suddenly her
eyes opened again. She was no longer leaning
on the arm of her husband. She was alone with
her child. Her husband had left her.
The visions had fled. Her agony grew great-
er than ever. The olden memories had added
much to its sting. She bent down again over
her child, and, looking up passionately at the
golden moon, prayed in most fervid syllables :
" 0 God ! let only this cup pass from my lips !"
A young man entered one of the many splen-
did gambling-hells on the principal square in
San Francisco. The time was early evening.
The street without was filled with confusion, and
a persevering band of music was doing its best
to make all harmonious to the ears of those who
frequented the place.
The saloon which the stranger entered was a
spacious and elegantly furnished apartment, and
throngs of people were either passing up and
down it, or grouped in excited squads about its
several points of attraction.
Mirrors, that were measured only by the yard,
were hung around the walls, making the light
from blazing chandeliers blaze still more bright-
ly, and reflecting in almost innumerable fonns
again the persons of the passers.
Rows, too, of polished and glittering decanters
stood ranged behind the tastefully arranged bars,
about which were congregated from time to time
the parties that had been successful or the con-
trary.
There was a confused sound of human voices,
of shuffling feet, ringing glasses, clinking silver,
and rattling dice. Oaths rose thickly above all,
and as the human figures , hurried hither and
thither in the glare of the gas-light, one could
readily have believed that his eyes had at length
fallen upon Pandemonium.
The young man who entered this place on the
evening in question, was freshly come from the
mines, where he had been assiduously toiling to
get together a stated amount of gold. He was
much tanned by the suns that had so fiercely
beat down upon him, and deep wrinkles, looking
like seams, were worn in his face. His lips were
compressed, as if he had recently entered with
new firmness upon some fresh resolution, and
had started to carry it out to the end.
His eyes were dark and thoughtful. He wore
Ills beard, of course, long, i-md his hair fell in
long locks over his back and shoulders.
He gi'usped a bag, or leathern pouch, in Ins
left hand, lillcd with gold. It was the fruit of
months of toil. Walking up deliberately to one
of the places where liquor was to be obtained,
he called, in an independent air, for a glass of
l)randy, which was given him. Laying down
sufficient "dust " to pay for this, he forthwith
turned and went away among the crowd of
gamblers.
There was such a nest of tliem ; there were so
many crowds ; there was so much gambling,
such a profusion of oaths, such jostling, and
crowding, and deep excitement, that even this
young man half hesitated. It was not, as he
knew, in consequence of fear. But there was an
indefinable something that made him halt. It
did not, either, lead him to reflection. Would
it had I It did not seriously affect him at all.
He crowded on.
A person, dressed in the most studied manner
of a gentleman, chanced to be sitting at the end
of the table, and seeing the stranger approach,
knowing from his very appearance that he was
just from the mines, accosted him in terms of
exceeding politeness.
Tlie stranger paused, and looked eagerly yet
steadily in his face.
" Will you play ?" asked the one at the end of
the table, running liis eyes over the countenance
of the stranger.
" Yes," was his final reply, after hesitating.
The young man accordingly sat down by the
side of the other, and laid his bag of gold-dust
upon the table before him.
" How high ?" asked the first.
" What do you propose ?"
" A thousand," was the reply.
" I'll go it," said the young man.
Forthwith, therefore, they spread out their
money, the elder in glittering pieces of gold, and
the younger in a pile of yellow and shining dust.
The eyes of the latter grew perceptibly brighter
with the sight of the dazzling coin, and he blush-
ed away his matted hair hastily from his fore-
head, as if to get a better view.
A settled line of determination was formed
about his mouth, that gave him the appearance
of a man fearfully in earnest.
" I have got in that pouch," said he, aloud,
addressing no one in particular, "just five thou-
sand dollars by actual weight. Let me see if I
can double it."
"Perliaps you can," put in the stranger.
" I'll either do that," replied he, " or I'll go
back to the mines."
The gentleman looked at him with interest.
" Yes, I'll do it," repeated the young man.
" When I came down here, I meant to take ship
at once for home. Then I thought I'd just try
my luck a little, and see if it wouldn't stand me
in as profitably as my labor. And here I am.
If I lose what I've got, then I shall go back to
digging again. If I gain on it, then I'll only go
home to my wife the sooner. I'm ready. Here
is my pile."
With these words, the other began to shuffle
the cards. They were dealt round slowly and
with precision. They played, and the young
man lost.
" Go it again?" asked the winner.
" Yes, and double it."
Again they shuffled, dealt, and played, and
again the young man lost! But this time no
words escaped his pallid lips. He clenched the
bag in his hands, and poured out all its remain-
ing contents on the table. In sullen silence he
made ready to play again. His eye dwelt fierce-
ly on the pile of yellow gold he had just staked
— his remaining all.
" Once more," was all he said.
Once more they went into the now fearfully
exciting play, and the young man was beggared !
Merely pushing back his seat from the table,
he reviewed the objects upon it before him.
There was all the gold he had been toiling for
months to accumulate. In less than an hour he
had madly thrown it all away.
" Will you drink ?" asked the triumphant win-
ner, gathering up his wicked gains.
"No; give me one more chance," said the
young man, glaring at him fiercely.
" But I—"
" Never fear, &ir," interrupted the young vic-
tim, "lam not going to ask you to lend me
funds. Here."
As he s])akc the last word, he drew out his
hand from his left breast. It was done with
great dcliberateness, yet it was plain to see that
it cost him a pang, His lips compressed until
there was no blood lefi in them.
" Let me stake this," said he. " It's the last,
but it can't bring me ill luck. If I lose that,
then I shall certainly go back to the mines. I
will redeem it again, too, at no very distant day."
The other extended his hand, and received in-
to it a locket. He opened it hastily, and regard-
ed the sweet and angelic countenance for only a
moment. His face assumed a strange expres-
sion. A pallor overspread it, followed by as
great a flush of fevered blood. The young man
regarded him with deep sui-prise.
"No, no I" exclaimed the winner, pushing
hack from the table, and liandingthc young man
the locket again. " I cannot take this. I can-
not— I will not !"
" But I ask for only another chance."
" You shall not stand in need of another
chance. You shall have what I have won hack
again. I would not keep it from her. I could
not keep it. Take it again. Go home to her
with it, and make her happy !"
As the stranger said this, the young man asked
him, in broken syllables, what he meant by this
generosity. He was anxious to learn the secret
of it all.
" She was Alice Bourne .'" replied the stranger,
in low tones.
The young man nodded an affirmative.
" She is now — "
"Ml/ wife!" interrupted the young man.
The night was cool and invigorating. Chill
breezes from the north blew through the nan-ow
alleys, and lanes, and courts of the town, send-
ing refreshing sensations to the hearts of many,
but awakening the gaunt fears of suffering in the
hearts of many — many more. The children of
poverty were abroad. The shadows of the night
concealed their destitution. The deep lines
drawn in their faces were no longer visible.
Night threw over them as well a mantle of
charity as of darkness.
A single woman, young, and of slight physi-
cal frame, was -wandering along from street to
street, begging. It was apparently her first ex-
perience in that line. The pavement was not
more cruel and hard to her poorly protected feet
than seemed the stony world to lier heart. Her
secret sorrows pierced her as with thorns. Auon
she moved her lips, and threw up her large and
saddened eyes to the moon. She let out her soul
in prayer, for she yet had hope, so long as her
trust was founded where the world-storms could
not reach it to wash it away.
She turned a corner, and came upon a passer
— a man. It was the first time she had ever yet
done it, but the pangs of a more irritating feeling
than remorse seized her, and she thought, too, of
the helpless one dependent upon her. For the
first time in her life, she begged for something
with which to keep herself from starvation.
" But you are begging at a strange hour," re-
plied the man. " How far do you live from
here ?"
The woman put her hands to her eyes, and the
hot tears rained through them, on the pavement.
" Show me the way to your home, good wo-
man," said the stranger. "Perhaps 1 can do
you a service."
She hesitated, and was silent.
" You have objections ? Then do not blame
me if I have objections to assist you."
" 0, sir !" was all she could exclaim.
" If you are really in need of charity, you will
be ready to show it. Show me where you
live."
Again she hesitated. The stranger moved as
if he would walk on. She grasped his arm
nervously, exclaiming in a tone of pitiful plead-
ing that smote his heart :
" Come ! See all I have to endure !"
She led him the way, never once suffering him
to keep up with her. The pace at which she
walked was rapid and excited. They stopped,
at length, before an old building that looked as
if it sufficed for the use of many tenants.
"This is the place," said she, turning round
towards him. " Will you follow me ?"
There was a tone of melancholy, or something
else, in that low voice, that thrilled him. He
stood amazed and lost, as if he would linger on
its last dying echoes, till they were all gone from
his hearing.
" Come !" again called she.
Straightway he broke from his sudden reverie,
and followed her. Up one, two, three, four
flights of wooden steps — steep, narrow and crazy
— and then halted again.
" So high ?" asked the stranger.
The woman, without offering any answer,
opened a little door before her, and went in.
The stranger followed close behind her. The
apartment was only a division of the rude garret.
A light was burning feebly near the chimney,
scarce revealing anything but the grotesque
figures that slept during the day in the dusky
angles. She took it in her hand, and approach-
ed the side of a couch spread on the floor. As
she stooped down, she nodded with her head si-
lently to have him behold what her o\\'n eyes had
so often dwelt upon in sorrow. He oame to the
bedside, and bent down. For the first time, the
light revealed all to him. There was Alice
Bourne by his side, and before him lay his sleep-
ing child, still alive !
We cannot describe the rest. Alice Boui-no
had been faithful to her hope. She had lior hus-
band restored to her at last !
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
95
HENRY CLAY'S WILL.
This document has been recorded in Ken-
tucky, dated July 10, 1851 . It provides that all
children bom of his slaves after 1st of January,
1850, are to be liberated and sent to Liberia ;
the males at the age of 28, and the females at
the age of 25. The earnings of the last three
years prior to their emancipation are to be re-
served for their benefit. Before removal they
are to be taught to read, write and cipher. Those
who were in being previously to 1S50 are be-
queathed to his family. The homestead, Ash-
land, is given to Mrs. Clay during her life time,
and at her death the proceeds divided among her
children. Mrs. Clay is appointed executrix, and
Thomas A. Marshall and James O. Harrison
executors of the will, with tlie provision that no
security shall be required of either.
THE GLOBE WE LIVE IN.
It is kno%vn as a fact in geology, that below
the depth of thirty feet the earth becomes regu-
larly warmer as we descend. On an average the
increase is at the rate of one degree of Fahren-
heit for eveiy fifty feet. At the bottom of the
mines of Cornwall, a depth of one thousand two
hundred feet, the thermometer stands at eighty-
eight, equal to high summer heat. At this rate
rocks and metals would be melted twenty miles
below the surface, and down in the bowels of the
earth, several hundred miles, the heat would be
twenty thousand times hotter than melted iron.
Who can wonder at earthquakes, when all things
rest on a molten sea of fire?
BURNS AT SIXTEEN.
Buras, in his autobiography, informs us that
a life of Hannibal, which he read when a boy,
raised the first strings of his enthusiasm ; and he
adds, ^ith his own fervid expression, that "the
Life of Sir William Wallace poured a tide of
Scottish prejudices into his veins, which would
boil along them till the flood-gates of life were
shut in eternal rest." He also adds, speaking of
his retired life in early youth, " This kind of life,
the cheerless gloom of a hermit, and the toil of
a galley slave, brought me to my sixteenth year,
wlien love made me a poet."
VERY LARGE.
Last week, says an English paper, there was
at the Bridgewater canal-yard, Manchester, an
enormous plank which had been brought from
Liverpool by canal. Its dimensions were — length
144 feet; breadth 20 inches; and thickness, 6
inches throughout. It is of a species of wood
known as gum wood, or African oak, and was
imported from Africa to Liverpool last summer.
The tree from which this plank has been sawTi
must have been of a gigantic height, probably
not much less than three Iiundred feet.
QUEER SUPERSTITION.
A most singula!- superstition exists in the de-
partment of the Indre in France, that after death
the soul of the defunct flits about the apartment
in which it took its departure from the body, like
a butterfl}', seeking an aperture to escape to
heaven ; and therefore when any one is consid-
ered in the last agonies, every vessel containing
water, milk, or any other hquid, is removed care-
fully, for fear the passing spirit should fall into
it, and thus be prevented from reaching its eter-
nal place of rest.
KILLED AND CURED BY MACHINERY.
It is quite a sight, visiting some of the stupen-
dous curing establishments of St. Louis, to ob-
serve the gigantic scale on which they are car-
ried on, and the new and curious contrivances
employed in the process, by which a pig is killed,
scalded, cut up, and reposing in salt, in the
twinkling of an eye, so that the echoes of his last
grunt have not well died away ere he is trans-
muted to bacon. --
Fourth of July in New York. — A corres-
pondent of the Newark Daily Advertiser, writing
from New York, says : Independence Day is
ranch the longest day of the whole year. It be-
gan here on Saturday night, continued through-
out Sunday and Monday, and did not fairly end
till Tuesday morning, lasting nearly 72 hours in
all.
Commercial. — There are forty-five schooners
employed in the cod fishery from Beverly, this
season, the aggregate tonnage of which is 8140
tons. These vessels are manned by three hun-
dred and seventy men.
tUaHsiiie ©atljcrings.
Barque Oriental, 470 tons, was sold at Boston,
lately, for S2U,000.
Mr. Wise made his 135th balloon ascension at
Columbus, Ohio, on the 3d of July.
All emigrants for St. Louis are required to re-
main at quarantine five days.
Scott did fight two duels, and challenged De-
witt Clinton to fight another.
There are a few women whose merits do not
last longer than their beauty.
Fever was raging terribly among the inhabi-
tants and shipping at St. Domingo, June 24.
A confectioner of Nashville, Tenn., was lately
killed by the explosion of a soda fountain.
The British naval establishment on the great
American lakes has been entirely broken up.
Several deaths from heat have taken place in
diflferent parts of the counti-y within the past
fortnight.
Kossutli is about to publish a book to be sold
for the benefit of such Hungarian refugees as
need assistance.
Emipration to Western Wisconsin, says the
Daily Wisconsin, was never larger or of a better
class.
Our exchanges from all parts of the country
speak of the spirited manner in which the day of
Independence was observed.
Hon. Abner Hendee, of Hebron, Ct., was
found dead in his bed on Thursday moraing, the
8th ult.
A Cincinnati paper sLates there are no less
than six hundred and eighty-one pianos in use in
that city.
The Boston firemen are paid. There are 513
men in the department, and the semi-annual pay
roll amounts to $12,568 95.
Col. George C. Washington, of Montgomery
county, Md., has a field of rye which averages
seven feet in height.
The Atlantic and St. Lawrence Railroad now
extends to Northumberland, N. H., on the Con-
necticut River, 122 miles from Portland.
In the fight between Orangemen and Catholics
at Hamilton, Canada, Barney McFhillips and
anotlier person were killed, and others wounded.
A father and mother both got drunk in Louis-
ville ; and in his rage, the father killed his child,
aged eighteen months.
Hastings, postmaster at Mil Is borough, Dela-
ware, has been holden to bail in S4000, and in
default is committed for trial for robbing letters.
Charles A. Jacobs, a native of Virginia, died
June 30, the wealthiest citizen of New Orleans,
worth a million and a half of dollars.
The wheat crop of Indiana, and in the West
generally, is said to be very heavy, and free from
all blight or rust.
We noticed handbills at the corners of the
streets, nominating Francis Tukcy, Esq., late
City Marshal, as the citizens' candidate for next
mayor.
Raspben-ics are plenty in the New York mar-
kets. Tlie Jom-nal of Commerce says, that one
gentleman is likely to reahze $3000 from tlie pro-
duce of five acres.
An eminent connoisseur was ofl^cred, during
dessert, some grapes. " Thank you," said he,
gently rejecting the dish, " it is never my custom
to take my wine in pills !"
While seven negroes at Lexington, Mo., were
eating their dinner on the 13th ult., under a tree,
it was struck by lightning, and four of them
instantly killed.
It is only seven years since the first line of
telegraph was put in operation. Since then there
have been fourteen thousand miles of telegraphic
lines put up in the United States.
The murdered body of John Alby, Jr., of Col-
chester, N. Y., has been found in a creek in De-
laware county. He had sold a raft of lumber,
and was returning home with S400.
Horses have been known to starve to death in
New England, when their owners had plenty of
hay and oats to give them. But they were past
service. *' Poor old horse, let him die."
Jackson Vaigneur was hung at Gillisonville,
S. C, on the 2d ult., for the murder of Mary
Wall on the 18th of February, 1851, by shooting
her with a double barrelled gun.
" Hasty-plate -of- soup " associations, young
hickory clubs, candy squibs, and fuss-and-feather
designations, are among the things of the pres-
ent political campaign.
The coal banks in the vicinity of AYheeling
are on fire, and continue so, in spite of all efforts
at extinguishment. One of the owners has lost
not less than $10,000 already.
From present indications, the grape crop of
Pennsylvania promises to be most abundant, and
a prospect for a full harvest exceeds that of any
previous year.
Tlie residence of the late Mr. Cooper, known
as Otsego Hall, has been purchased by Mr. Ryck-
man, of New York, for the moderate sum of
$10,000. It seems strange that Mr. Cooper's
heirs should permit it to go out of their posses-
sion.
The Theatre Royal, at Montreal, was opened
on Wednesday night week for the summer sea-
son, that evening's performances being for the
benefit of the sufferers by the fire. Bland,
Andrews, Conner and Mrs. Maeder, are of the
company.
-foreign illisccllang.
The English have twenty-one ships on the
coast of Africa.
The Spanish government has just authorized
the establishment of 200 nunneries.
Accounts from Rome state that Pope Pius is
threatened wilh dropsy.
The cliurch at Esquieule in the Pyrenees was
struck by lightning on Sunday, and two men
were killed.
At Bremen two young ladies, Md'lles. Meyer
and Windermann, have just been imprisoned for
political writing.
The fifteenth annivei'sary of Her Majesty,
Queen Victoria's coronation, was celebrated in
England on the 28th of June.
The potato disease has been discovered in
Queen's county, Kilkenny and Down, and injury
was feared should the weather continue wet.
A telegraphic message of twenty words from
London to Paris costs about six dollars and a
quarter. The sub-marine wire continues to work
well.
Two engines for the Northwestern Railroad
are now building in England, which are expected
to run a distance of 113 miles, with loaded trains,
in two hours.
The number of deaths in London during the
week ending June 26 was 990, of whom 500
were females, and 180 were upwards of 60 years
old ; two died of English cholera.
The enthusiasm manifested by the Hungarians
in presence of the Emperor of Austria, has cre-
ated, it appears, a very disagreeable sensation
among the Hungarian refugees in London.
The English papers state that George Thomp-
son has lost his election, much dissatisfaction be-
ing expressed by his constituents at his desertion
of his duties for an entire session while engaged
in agitating in the United States.
Gongia Khan, the chief dragoman of the Prus-
sian Legation in Russia, has presented to the
Imperial Russian Library, a translation of Vol-
taire's History of Russia under Peter the Great.
It is a splendid work, the text being lithographed
upon parchment; the engravings are by Nuran
Hassan Cacheni, and represent portraits of the
Czar Peter, and other principal personages.
It is calculated that Paris annually consumes
strawben-ics to the amount of five million francs.
Epinay, near St. Denis, sends every day, during
the season, 500 francs worth of asparagus to
England. Mendon, last year, sent a similar
amount of plums every day ; and Honfleur and
its neigliborhood one million francs worth of
melons in tlie course of the season.
Sanis of (Soli.
.... Be timely wise rather than ^\ise in time.
.... Goodness thinks no ill where no ill seems.
.... Truth, love, and high morality are the
same.
Never give out that which does not first
come.
.... Pleasure may be a shadoiv, but it uses a
heap of substance.
Suspicion is a counterfeiter of truth, as
Avell as falsehood.
.... He wlio buys what he does not want,
will want what he cannot buy.
A presentiment of coming gladness is
the summit of teiTCsti'ial felicity.
.... Childhood and genius have the same
master organ in common — inquisitiveness.
.... The noblest quality wherewith nature
has endowed woman-for the good of the world,
is raateraal love.
At twenty-five we kill pleasure, at thirty
w^e enjoy it, at forty we husband it, at fifty we
hunt after it, at sixty we regret it,
Politeness is the outward garment of
goodwill; but many are the nut-shells in which,
if you crack them, notliing like a kernel is to be
found.
.... One of the sublimest things about human
nature is that a man may guide others in the
path of life without walking in it himself; that
he may be a pilot, and jet a castaway.
.... Of all the impertinent wishes which we
hear expressed in conversation, there is not one
more unworthy a gentleman, or a man of liberal
education, than that of wishing one's self younger.
Once give your mind up to suspicion and
fear, and there will be sure to be food enough for
it. In the stillest night the air is filled with
sounds for the wakeful ear that is resolved to
listen.
.... It takes two to make a quaiTel — just re-
member that. It takes two to get a quarrel
fairly going, so hold your tongue the moment a
storm is brewing, and you are without the pale
of discord.
.... Unfortunately, ridicule is a weapon to
which the vacillating too often yield, forgetting
that it belongs only to little and ungenerous
minds, and that those who use it, are subjects for
compassion rather than dread.
A ci-ust of bread, a pitcher of water, a
thatched roof, and love ; there is happiness for
you, whether the day be rainy or sunny. It is
the heart that makes the home, whether the eye
rests on a potato patch or a flower garden.
Heart makes home precious, and it is the only
thing that ean.
lokcr'a Buligct.
" Wliy is a cruel man like a peach ?" He has
a heart of stone.
The report that " Powers's Greek Slave " had
died of cholera is totally untrue.
Say, Jack, can you tell us what's the best
thing to hold t\\o pieces of rope together V — " I
guess knot." — Lantern.
Why is a man with a scolding wife like Lon-
don in the seventeenth century ? He is aflBicted
with a great plague.
The reason that the organ in Dr. S 's
church did not play last Sabbath, was caused, we
learn, by its having a new stop put to it. It was
added, we believe, by the deputy sheriff.
" Has that cookery book any pictures V —
"No, madam — none." — " Why, what's the use
of telling us how to make a good dinner, if they
give us no plates?"
The gentleman who did not trust to his mem-
ory, wrote in his pocket-book — *' I must be mar-
ried when I get to town." The possibility is
that he recollected whether he was married or
not, afterwards.
A merchant, who died suddenly, left in his
desk a letter written to one of Iiis correspon-
dents. His clerk, a son of Erin, seeing it neces-
sary to send the letter, wrote at the bottom : —
" since writing the above I have died."
Nothing was so much dreaded in our school-
boy days as to be punished by sitting between
two girls. Ah, the force of education! In after
years we learn to submit to such things without
shedding a tear.
A traveller in a stage-coach, aot famous for
its swiftness, inquired the name of the coach.
A fellow passenger replied : " I tliink it is the
Regulator, for I observe all the other coaches go
by "it."
A jailer in a Western State had received strict
orders not to keep his prisoners in solitary con-
finement. Once, when he had but two in charge,
one escaped; and he was obliged, in conse-
quence, to kick the other out of doors, in order to
comply with the regulation.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
■We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Piotorul Drawino
Room Companion elegautly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and moat
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
ANB CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and. in short, of an infiuite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a. very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a v!ist amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Itecord of the times; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by out Wholesale
Agents, and at iill the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three DoUars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNION,
AS ELEGANT. 5I0KAL AXD REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polity literature, wit and hiimor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEH POK THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME A'ISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly paper in tlie United States., and its hterary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsxirpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
80 condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of inteUigence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus oSenng the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay beforo
our hundi-eds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SXTBSCEIBERS.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 ■' " 6 00
5 " " 11 00
16 " * 20 00
One copy of the Flag op our Union, and one copy of the
PicroftiAL Da.iwixij-KooM Companion, one year, for So 00.
[jC?" Invariably in advance-
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
XT' Ml orders should be addressed. POST PAID, to the
PuBLisaER OF THE Flaq of our Union.
V* The Flag can be obtained at any of the newspaper
depots in the United Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUR CKSTS per single copy,
F. GLEASON,
PCBUSUER AND PROPRIETOR, JtoaTON, JlASg,
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DKAWINC; UOOM COMPANION
VIEW OF DETHOIT^ MICHIGAJ^^ FROM SANDWICH^ CANADA.
CITY OF DETROIT.
Detroit, a fine view of
■which is given above,
is or,e of the principal
cities of the great North-
west. The site of the
city is said to have been
occupied by Indian vil-
lages at the period of the
discovery of the country.
It was visited by the
rrench as early as 1610,
and a mission was estab-
lished among the Hu-
rons, in its vicinity, a
few years later, so that
its liistory dates back
even beyond the landing
of the Pilgrims at Ply-
mouth, It has been the
theatre of some of the
most brilliant as well as
the most disgraceful ex-
ploits recorded in the an-
nals of the world. The
present population of
Detroit is 25,000, which
is rapidly increasing.
Thirty years ago, the
entire population of the
State of Michigan was
less than 10,000; it is
now about 500,000, —
When the State shall
become well settled, and
her agricultural and
mineral wealth fairly
developed, Detroit will
take a high rank among
the inland cities of the
Union. Within view of
the city is Detroit river,
connecting lakes Erie
and St. Clair, one of the
noblest streams that ever
gave life and beauty to
a city. Its banks are
high, its channel wide
and deep, bearing proud-
ly on its bosom the com-
merce of the great west-
ern lakes. The accom-
panying view is from
Sandwich, on the Cana-
da side of the river, and
can only represent the
lower part of the city, in
which are located the
extensive depots and
other buildings belong-
ing to the Michigan Cen-
tral Railroad Company.
They have on these
premises upwards of
nineteen hundred feet of
dock front on the river,
where ve**sels can lie in
water from 12 to 20 feet,
deep, Tliey have a
large freight depot, 100
feet wide, and extending
STATUETTE OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
[See p(ige 98, fnr ^efjcriptlpn.]
800 feet along the dock
on the river; and adjoin-
ing this, a passenger de-
pot, 325 feet long and
75 feet wide, in one end
of which are the various
business offices of the
company. Below the
freight depot, on the
river front, are two lai^ge
two story warehouses.
There is also a large
warehouse, 120 feet by
60, and 70 feet high, so
arranged as to elevate
the wheat from cars into
bins above, and spout it
directly into the vessel
lying alongside of the
dock, without handling.
There is also in the
same enclosure a circu-
lar engine house 130 feet
in diameter, surmounted
with a dome 85 feet high.
Connected with this is a
machine and blacksmith
shop, 100 feet long, 60
feet wide, and two sto-
ries high, where are 23
blacksmith's forges, fur-
nished with blast from
a fan run by a stationary
engine. Adjoining these
shops for iron work, is
a large shop for building
and repairing cars, 169
feet long, 55 feet wide
and two stories high.
There is also between
the two a large smoke
stack, 13 feet square and
150 feet high, by means
of which all the smoko
of the shops is carried
off by underground flues.
The most of these build-
ings are of bi'ick, and
fire-proof from without.
Passenger trains leave
this place twice each
day {except Sunday) for
Chicago, running the
distance of 281 miles in
about 10 hours, over one
of the most perfect and
best managed roads in
the United States. The
company have commenc-
ed running in connec-
tion with this road a lino
of steamers to and from
all the ports ou Lake
Eric. In the foreground
of the picture our artist
has placed the far-famed
and favorite May Flow-
er, as she appears just
turned from her clnck
on her departure 'or
Buffalo.
p. GLEASON,
( CORNER BROMTIELD
j AND IREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 14, 1852.
S2 PER VOLUME.
Cm IS5S ) Vol. m. No. 7— Whole No. 59.
PILOTS' MONUMENT.
The Pilots' Monument
g^iven on tliis page was
drawn on the spot for us by
our artist, Mr. Wade, and
aside from its excellence as
a picture, is very interesting
and suggestive in its story.
The noble-hearted man,
whose dust rests beneath,
this monument, richly de-
served this honor from his
friends ; he was literally,
one of nature's noblemen —
a true and honest man.
This magnificent structure,
as the epitaph informs us,
was reai'cd by the New
York pilots, to the memory
of a brave and generous
comrade, Thomas Free-
born. Mr. Freeborn per-
ished on the 14th of Febru-
ary, 1846, by the wreck of
the John Mintum, which he
had undertaken to conduct
into port. She was driven
by a gale on the Jersey
shore . Though the ship
was within sight and hail of
a sympathizing multitude,
so violent were die storm
and surf, that no effectual
relief could be rendered.
Chilled to death by the wet
and cold, nearly all on
board perished before the
vessel went to pieces.
There were female passen-
gers on board, who, in this
hour of mortal extremity,
clung with vain hope round
the hardy pilot — now, alas,
almost as powerless as
themselves ! With gener-
ous kindness he took off a
part of his own garments
to shelter them ; but the
winter storm, the sleet and
freezing spray proved too
strong even for the staunch
and hardy sailor, inured
from boyhood to every
hardship. This monument,
standing upon one of the
highest points of the ceme-
tery, is a veiy conspicuous
object, and for a consider-
able distance is in full view
of vessels, as they move up
and down the river. It is
one of the most chaste and
beautiful combinations of
ideas — most of which is na-
val— in Greenwood Ceme-
tery. From a massive base,
rises a square sarcophagus.
Upon this rests a ship's
capstan, but the cable, which
is coiled about it, is severed.
The pillar which rises from
the capstan, may be regard-
ed as a mutilated mast; on
the summit stands Hope,
still retaining her anchor,
and pointing heavenward.
The statue is beautifully
executed ; but it being so
high, some eighteen or
t^venty feet, or thuty or
forty feet from the road, it
cannot be seen to good ad-
vantage. On the front of
the sarcophagus, a sea
MONUJIENT m GREENWOOD CEMETERY, NEW YORK.
storm and shipwreck ai^e
represented in relief. From
this monument a fine -view
of the magnificent bay of
New York, islands and sub-
urbs of the great commer-
cial city is obtained ; while
in the extreme distance, the
noisy city, sunounded with
smoke, lays like a sleeping
child, greatly contrasting
with the cift/ of the dead.
How unlike are our modem
burial places to the cemete-
ries of ancient times. The
humblest individual who
has distinguished himself in
works of public benefaction
and virtue, may now find a
spot of repose, and his vir-
tues engraven on the mai"-
ble tablet, be the praise
and imitation of every one
who reads the record. In.
that most important of the
burial places of the ancient
Egyptians, on the borders
of Lake Archerusia, a tri-
bunal, composed of fort}--
two judges, was established
lo iuqnue into the life and
character of the deceased.
Without this examination,
a corpse could not be car-
ried to the cemetery. If
the deceased had died in-
solvent, the court adjudged
the corpse to his creditors,
in order to oblige his X'ela-
tions and friends to redeem
it. If his life had been
wicked, they refused his
body the privilege of sol-
emn burial, and it was con-
sequently carried and
thrown into a large ditch
made for tlie pui-pose. If
no accuser appeared, the
judges decreed the regular
burial, and the eulogiura of
the deceased was pronoun-
ced amongst the applauses
of the bystanders. In this,
his talents, virtues, accom-
plishments, everything ex-
cept his rank and riches,
were praised. The ceme-
tery was a large plain, sur-
rounded by trees, and inter-
sected by canals, to which,
was given the appellatioii
Elisout, or Elisimus, ni.ean-
ing rest. The whole cere-
mony of internient seems tQ
have consisted in depositing
the mummy in the excava-
tion made in the rock, or
Xinder the sand which cov-
ered the whole Elisout; then
it seems that the relations
pf the deceased threw three
handsful of sand, as a sign
^0 the workmen to fill up
the cavity, after uttering
three loud farewcUs, and sq
ended the bui-iul ceremony.
We think the monument
erected to the memory of
tlie hardy and noble Free-
horn, will commend itself,
hoth as a work of art and a
tribute of esteem and honor,
highly creditable to his vet-
eran compeers.
98
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congiess, in the year 1852, by F. Glkason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written EXniESBLT FOK OLEASOH's PIOTORIAL.]
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
[continued. ]
CHAPTER Xn.— [continued.]
" It is strange that he shoiild meet with disap-
pointment, for General Bczan could mai'ry tlie
proudest lady of the court of Madrid."
" O, you forget when he came home to Spain
he was only an humble captain of infantry, who
had seen little service. Aow he is a general, and
ah-eady distinguished."
They were nearer right in their surmises than
even themselves were aware of. It was very
true that Captain Bezan, the unhnown soldier,
and General Bezan, the queen's favorite, hon-
ored by orders, and entrusted with important
commissions, successful in desperate battles, and
the hero of the civil war, were two very different
individuals. No one realized this more acutely
than did Lorenzo Bezan himself. No step to-
wards preferment and honor did he take without
comparing his situation with the humble lieuten-
ant's birth that he filled when he first knew Isa-
bella Gonzales, and when his hopes had run so
high, as it regarded winning her love.
Of all the beauty and rank of the Castilian
court, at the period of which we write, the Count-
ess Moranza was universally pronounced the
queen of beauty. A lineal descendant of the
throne, her position near the queen was of such
a nature as to give her great influence, and to
cause her favor to be sought with an earnestness
only second to the service rendered to the queen
herself. Her sway over the hearts of men had
been unlimited ; courted and sought after by the
nobles of the land, her heart had never yet been
touched, or her favors granted beyond the proud
civility that her birth, rank and position at court
entitled her to dispense.
She differed from Isabella Gonzales but little
in character, save in the tenderness and womanli-
ness, so to speak, of her heart— /Aai she could not
conti-ol ; otherwise she possessed all the pride and
self-eonceit that her parentage and present posi-
tion were calculated to engender and foster. On
Lorenzo Bezan's first appearance at court she
had been attracted by his youth, his fame, the
absence of pride in his hearing, and the very
subdued and tender, if not melancholy, cast of
his countenance. She was formally introduced
to him by the queen, and was as much delighted
by the simple sincerity of his conversation as she
had been by his hearing and the fame that pre-
ceded his arrival at the court. She had long
been accustomed to the flirting and attention of
the court gallants, and had regarded them with
little feeling 5 but here was one who spoke from
the heart, and she found that he spoke to the
heart, also, for she was warmly interested in him
at once.
On. his part, naturally polite and gallant, he
was assiduous in every little attention, more so
from the feeling of gratitude for the friendship
she showed to him who was so broken-hearted.
Intercourse of days and hours grew into the inti-
macy of weeks and months, and they became
friends, warm friends, who seemed to love to
confide in each other the whole wealth of the
Boul. Unaccustomed to female society, and with
only one model ever before his eyes, Lorenzo
Bezan afforded; in his truthfulness, a refi'cshing
pictm-e to the court-wooed and fashionable belle of
the capital, who had so long lived in the artificial
atmosphere of the queen's palace, and the sur-
roundings of the Spanish capital.
The absence of all intrigue, management and
deceit, the frank, open-hearted manliness of his
conversation, the delicacy of his feelings, and the
constant consideration for her own ease and
pleasure, could not but challenge the admiration
of the beautiful Countess Moranza, and on her
own part she spared no means to return his po-
liteness.
CHAPTER XIII.
tJNKEQUITED LOVE.
Pleased, and perhaps flattered, by the con-
stant and unvarying kindness and friendliness
evinced towards him by the Countess Moranza,
the young general seemed to be very happy in
her company, and to pass a lai'ge portion of his
leisure hours by her side. The court gossips,
ever ready to improve any opportunity that
may offer, invented all manner of scandal and
prejudicial stories concerning the peerless and
chaste Countess Moranza; but she was above
the power of their shafts, and entertained Lorenzo
Bezan with prodigal hospitality.
To the young soldier this was of immense ad-
vantage, as she who was thus a firm friend to
him, was a woman of brilliant mind and cultiva-
tion, and Lorenzo Bezan improved vastly by the
intellectual powers of the countess. The idea of
loving her beyond the feelings a warm friendship
might induce, had never crossed his mind, and
had it done so, would not have been entertained
even for one moment. Of loving he had but one
idea, one thought, one standard, and that heart
embodiment, that queen of his affections, was
Isabella Gonzales.
They rode together, read to each other, and,
in short, were quite inseparable, save when the
queen, by some invitation, which was law of
course to the young general, solicited his attend-
ance upon herself. Her friendship, too, was
warm, and her interest great for Lorenzo Bezan,
and slie delighted to shower upon him every
honor, and pubhcly to acknowledge his services
to the throne.
" The queen seems very kind to you, general,"
said the countess, to bim.
" She is more than kind — she lavishes rewards
upon me."
" She loves bravery."
" She repays good fortune in round sums,"
replied the officer.
"But why do you ever wear that sober, som-
bre, and sad look upon your face ■?"
"Do I look thus ?" asked the soldier, with a
voice of surprise.
" Often."
" I knew it not," replied Lorenzo Bezan, some-
what earnestly.
*' It seems a mystery to me that General Be-
zan, honored by the queen, with a purse well
filled with gold, and promoted beyond all prece-
dent in his profession,should not rather smile than
frown ; but perhaps there is some reason for
grief in your heart, and possibly I am careless,
and probing to the quick a wound that may yet
be fresh."
The soldier breathed an involuntary sigh, but
said nothing.
"Yes. I see now that I have annoyed you,
and should apologize," she said.
" Nay, not so ; you have been more than a
friend to me ; you have been an instructress in
gentle refinement and all that is lovely in your
sex, and I should but poorly repay such consid-
eration and kindness, wero I not to confide in
you all my thoughts."
The countess could not imagine what was
coming. She turned pale, and then a blush
stole over her beautiful features, beti-ayiug how
deeply interested she was.
" 1 Iiope, general," she said, " that if there is
aught in which a person like myself might offer
consolation or advice to you, it may be spoken
witliout reserve."
"Ah, countess, how can I ever repay such a
debt as you put me under by this very touching
kindness, this most sisterly consideration towards
maV
There was a moment's pause, in which the
eyes of both rested upon the floor.
" You say that I am sad at times. I had
thought your brilliant conversation and gentle-
ness of character had so far made me forget that
I no longer looked sad. But it is not so. You,
60 rich in wealth and position, have never known
a want, have never received a slight, have never
been insulted at heart for pride's sake. Lady, I
have loved a being, so much like yourself, that I
have often dreamed of you together. A being
all pure and beautiful, with but one sad alloy in
her sweet character — pride. I saw her while
yet most humble in rank ; I served herself
and father, and brother, even to saving their
lives ; I was promoted, and held high honor with
my command; but she was rich, and her father
high in lordly honors and associations. I was
but a poor soldier ; what else might I expect but
scci-n if I dared to love her ? But, countess, you
are ill," said the soldier, observing her pallid
features and quick coming and going breath.
" Only a temporary illness ; it is ab-eady
gone," she said. "Pray go on."
" And yet I believe she loved me, also, though
the pride of her heart choked the growth of the
tendrils of affection. Maddened by the insults
of a rival, who was far above me in rank, I chal-
lenged him, and for this was banished from the
island where she lives. Do you wonder that I
am sometimes sad at these recollections ? that
my full heart will sometimes speak in my face 1"
" Nay, it is but natiu'al," answered the count-
ess, with a deep sigh.
Genei'al Bezan was thinking of his own an-
guish of heart, of the peculiarities of his o^vn
situation, of her who was far away, yet now pres-
ent in his heart, else he would have noticed more
particularly the appearance of her whom he ad-
dressed. The reader would have seen at once
that she received his declaration of love for
another like a death blow, that she sat there and
heard him go on as one would sit under torture ;
yet by the sti-ong force of her character subduing
almost entirely all outward emotions. There
was no disguismg it to a careful observer, she,
the Countess Moranza, loved him !
From the first meeting she had been struck
by his noble figure, his melancholy yet handsome
and intellectual face, and knowing the gallantry
of his services to the queen, was struck by the
modest hearing of a soldier so renowned in bat-
tle. After refusing half of the gallants of the
court, and deeming herself impregnable to the
shafts of Cupid, she had at last lost her heart to
this man. But that was not the point that made
her suffer so now, it was that he loved another ;
that he could never sustain the tender relation
to her which her heart suggested. All these
thoughts now passed through her mind.
We say had General Bczan not been so intent
in his thoughts far away, he must have discov-
ered this secret, at least to some extent.
He knew not the fervor of woman's love ; he
knew only of his too unhappy disappointment,
and on this his mind was sadly and earnestly
engaged.
Days passed on, and the young general saw
little of the countess, for her unhappy condition
of mind caused her to seclude Iierself almost en-
tirely from society, even denying herself to him
whom she loved so well. She struggled to for-
get her love, or rather to bring philosophy to
her aid in conquering it. She succeeded, in a
large degree ; but at the same time resolved to
make it her business to reconcile Lorenzo Bezan
to her he loved, if such a thing were possible ;
and thus to enjoy the consciousness of having
performed at least one disinterested act for him
whom she, too, had loved, as we have seen, most
sincerely and most tenderly.
Thus actuated, the countess resolved to make
a confidant, or, at least, partially to do so, of the
queen, and to interest her to return Lorenzo Be-
zan once more to the West Indian station, with
honor and all due credit. It scarcely needed
her eloquence in pleading to consummate this
object, for the queen, already prepossessed in the
young soldier's favor, only desired to know how
8hc might serve liim best, in order to do so at once.
In her sJn-ewdncss she could not but discover the
Hlatc of the countcsK's heart ; but too delicate to
allude to tlii-i matter, she made up her mind at
once as to what should be done.
She wondered not at the countess's love for
Lorenzo Bczan ; yhe could ai/mpalhize with her ;
for had he been born in the station to have shared
the throne with her, she would have looked her-
self upon ))im with a different eye; as it was,
she had delighted to honor him from the first
moment they had met.
" Your wish shall be granted, countess," said
the queen ; " he shall return to Cuba, and with
honor and distinction."
" Thanks, a thousand thanks," was the reply
of the fair friend.
" You liavc never toUl me before the particu-
lars of his returning home."
" It was but lately that I learned them, by liis
own lips," she answered.
"His life is full of romance," mused the queen,
thoughtfully.
" True, and Ins bravery, has lie opportunity,
will make him a hero.**
"The lady's name — did ho tell you that *?"
asked the queen.
" He did."
"And whom was it?"
"Isabella Gonzales."
"Isabella Gonzales?"
" Yes, my liege lady."
" A noble house ; we remember the name."
" He said they were noble," sighed the count-
ess, thoughtfully.
" Well, well," continued the queen, "go you
and recruit your spirits once more ; as to Lo-
renzo Bezan, he is my protege, and I will at
once attend to his interests."
Scarcely had the Countess Moranza left her
presence, before the queen, summoning an at-
tendant, despatched a message to General Bezan
to come at once to the palace. The queen waa
a noble and beautiful woman, who had studied
human nature in all its phases ; she understood
at once the situation of her young favorite's
heart, and by degrees she drew him out, as far
as delicacy would permit, and then asked him if
he still loved Isabella Gonzales as he had done
when he was a poor lieutenant of infantry, in the
tropical service.
" Love her, my liege V said the young gen-
eral, in tones almost reproachful, to think any
one could doubt it, " I have never for one mo-
ment, even amid the roar of battle and the groans
of dying men, forgotten Isabella Gonzales !"
" Love like thine should be its own reward ;
she was proud, too proud to return thy love ;
was it not so, general 1"
" My liege, you have spoken for me."
" But you were a poor lieutenant of infantry
then."
" True."
" And that had its influence."
" I cannot but suppose so."
" Well," said the queen, " we have a purpose
for you."
" I am entirely at your majesty's disposal,"
replied the young soldier.
" We will see what commission it best fits so
faithfal a servant of our crown to bear, and an
appointment may be found that will can-y thee
back to this distant isle of the tropics, where you
have left your heart."
" To Cuba, my hege 1"
"Ay."
"But my banishment from the island reads
forever," said the soldier.
" We have power to make it read as best suits
us," was the reply.
" You are really too good to mc," replied the
soldier.
" Now to your duty, general, and to-morrow
we shall have further business with you."
Lorenzo Bezan bowed low, and turned his
steps from the palace towards his own lodgings,
near the barracks. It was exceedingly puzzling
to him, first, that he could not xmderstand what
had led the queen to this subject ; second, how
she could so well discern thetmth; and lastly,
that such consideration was shown for him. He
could not mistake the import of the queen's
words; it was perfectly plain to him what she
had said, and what she had meant; and in a
strange state of mind, bordering upon extreme
of suspicion and strong hope, and yet almost as
powerful fears, he mused over the singular con-
dition in which he found himself and his
affairs.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
99
It seemed to lilm that fortune was playing at
sliiittlecock with him, and that just for the pres-
ent, at any rate, his star was in the ascendant.
*' How long shall I go on in my good fortune?"
he asked himself; " how long will it be before I
shall again meet with a liercc rebuff in some
quarter ? Had I planned my own future for the
period of time since I landed at Cadiz, I could
not have bettered it — indeed I could not have
dared to be as extravagant as I find the reality.
No wonder that I meet those envious glances at
court. Wlio ever sliared a larger portion of the
honorable favor of the queen than I do 1 It is
strange, all very strange. Aiid this beautiful
Countess Moranza — what a good angel she has
been to me ; indeed, wliat have I not enjoyed
that I could wish, since I arrived in Spain ? Yet
how void of happiness and of peace of heart am I !
Alas, as the humble lieutenant in the Plaza des
Alines in Havana, as the lowly soldier whom
Isabella Gonzales publicly noticed in the Paseo,
as the fortunate deliverer of herself and father.
and as resting my wounded body upon her own
support, how infinitely happier was I. How
bright was hope then in my breast, and brilliant
the charms of the fairy future !
CHAPTER XIV.
THE STJKPRISE.
It had already been announced among the
knowing ones at Havana that there was to be a
new lieutenant-governor general arrive ere long
for the island, and those interested in tliese mat-
ters feel of course such an interest as an event of
this character would naturally inspire. Those in
authority surmised as to what sort of a person
they were to be associated with, and the better
classes of society in the island wished to know
what degree of addition to their society the new
comer would be — ^^vhether he was man*ied or
single, etc.
Isabella Gonzales realized no such interest in
the matter ; the announcement that there was to
be a new lieutenant-governor created no interest
in her breast ; she remained as she had done
these nearly four years, secluded, with only Ruez
as her companion, and only the Pluto as the spot
for promenade. She had not faded during the
interim of time since the reader left her with
Lorenzo Bezan's letter in her hand ; but a soft,
tender, yet settled melancholy had possessed the
beautiful lineaments and expressive lines of her
features. She was not happy. She had no con-
fidant, and no one knew her secret save herself;
but an observant person would easily have de-
tected the deep shadow tliat lay upon her soul.
We say she had not faded — nor had she ; there
was the same soft and beautiful expression in
her face, even more tender than before ; for it had
lost the tinge of alloy that pride was wont to im-
part to it ; where pride had existed before, there
now dwelt tender melancholy, speaking from the
heart, and rendering the lovely girl far, far more
interesting and beautiful. She had wept bitter,
scalding tears over that last farewell between
herself and Lorenzo Bezan in the prison ; she
blamed herself bitterly now that she had let him
depart thus ; but there was no reprieve, no re-
calling the consequences; he was gone, and
forever !
Communication with the home government
was seldom and slowly consummated, and an
arrival at that period from Old Spain was an
event. Partly for this reason, and partly be-
cause there was no one to write to her, Isabella,
nor indeed her father, had heard anything of Lo-
renzo Bezan since his departui-e. General Ha-
rero had learned of his promotion for gallant
service ; but having no object in communicating
such intelligence, it had remained wholly undi-
■\nilged, either to the Gonzales family or the city
generally.
It was twilight, and the soft light that tints
the ti'opics in such a delicate hue at this bom-
was playing with the beauty of Isabella Gon-
zales's face, now in profile, now in front, as she
lounged on a couch near the window, which
overlooked the sea and harbor. She held in her
hand an open letter ; she had been shedding
tears ; those, however, were now dried up, and a
puzzled and astonished feeUng seemed to be ex-
pressed in her beautiful countenance, as she
gazed now and then at the letter, and then once
more ofif upon the sparkling waters of the Gulf
Sti-eam.
" Strange," she murmured to herself, and
again hastily read over the letter, and examined
the seal which had enclosed it in a ribbon enve-
lope and parchment. " How is it possible for
the queen to know my secret ? and yet here she
reveals all ; it is her own seal, and I think even
her own hand, that has penned these lines. Let
me read again :
" Senorit a. Isabella Gonzales : Deeply in-
terested as we are for the welfare of all our loyal
subjects, we have taken occasion to send you
some words of information relative to yourself.
Beyond a doubt you have loved and been beloved
devotedly; but pride, ill asserted aiTOgance of
soul, has rendered you miserable. We speak
not knowingly, but from supposition grounded
upon ivJiat we do know. He who loved you was
humble — humble in station, but noble in personal
qualities, such as a woman may well worship in
man, bravm-y, manliness and stern and noble
beauty of person. We say he loved you, and
we doubt not you must have loved him ; for how
could it be otherwise ? Pride caused you to re-
pulse him. Now, senorita, know that he whom
you thus repulsed was more than worthy of yon ;
that, although he might have espoused one infi-
nitely your superior in r.ank and wealth in Mad-
rid, since his aiTival here, he had no heart to
give, and still remained true to you ! Know that
by his daring bravery, his manliness, his modest
bearing, and above all, his clear-sighted and
brilliant mental capacity he has challenged our
ovra high admiration ; but you, alas ! must turn
in scorn your proud lip upon him ! Think not we
have these facts from him, or that he has reflect-
ed in the least upon yon ; he is far too delicate
for such conduct. No, it is an instinctive sense
of the position of circumstances that has led to
this letter and this plain language.
(Signed) Your Queen.
"The Senorita Isabella Gonzales."
One might have thought that' this would have
aroused the pride and anger of Isabella Gonzales,
but it did not ; it surprised her ; and after the
first sensation of this feeling was over, it struck
her as so truthful, what the queen had said, that
she wept bitterly.
" Alas ! she has most justly censui-ed me, but
points out no way for me to retrieve the bitter
steps I have taken," sobbed the unhappy girl,
aloud. " IVIight have espoused one my superior
in rank and fortune, at Madrid, but he had no
heart to give ! Pool that I am, I see it all ; and
the queen is indeed but too correct. But what
use is all this information to me, save to render
me the more miserable 7 Show a wretch the life
he might have lived, and then condemn him to
death ; that is my position — that ray hard, un-
happy fate !
*' Alas ! does he love me still 1 he whom I
have so heartlessly treated — ay, whom I have
crushed, as it were, for well I knew how dearly
he loved me ! He has challenged even the ad-
miration of the queen, and has been, perhaps,
promoted ; but still has been true to me, who in
soul have been as true to him."
Thus murmured the proud girl to herself —
thus frankly realized tlie truth.
"All, my child," said Don Gonzales, meeting
his daughter, " put on thy best looks, for we are
to have the new lieutenant-governor installed to-
morrow, and all of us must be present. He's a
soldier of much renown, so report says."
" Doubtless, father ; but I'm not very well to-
day, and shall be hardly able to go to-moiTow —
at least I fear I shall not."
"Pie, fie, my daughter; thou, the prettiest
bird in all the island, to absent thyself from the
presence on such an occasion 1 It will never do."
" Here, Rucz, leave that hound alone, and
come hither," he continued, to the boy. " You,
too, must be ready at an early hour to-morrow
to go with Isabella and myself to the palace,
where we shall be introduced to the new lieuten-
ant-governor, just arrived from Madrid."
" I don't want to go, father," said the boy,
still fondling the dog.
" Why not, Ruez 7"
"Because Isabella does not," was the childish
reply.
"Now if this be not rank mutiny, and I shall
have to call in a corporal's guard to an*est the
belligerents," said Don Gonzales, half playfully.
" But go you must ; and I have a secret, but I
shall not tell it to you — no, not for the world — a
surprise for you both ; but that's no matter now.
Go you must, and go you will ; so prepare you
in good season to-morrow to attend me."
Both sister and brother saw that he was in
earnest, and made arrangements accordingly.
The occasion of instating the lieutenant-gov-
ernor in his high and responsible station, was one
of no little note in Havana, and was celebrated
by all the pomp and militarj' display that could
possibly add importance to the event, and im-
press the citizens with the sacred character of
the office. The day was therefore ushered in
by the booming of cannon and the music of mili-
tary bands, and the universal stir at the baiTacks
told the observer that all grades were to be on
duty that day, and in full numbers. The palace
of the governoi'-gencral was decorated with flags
and streamers, and even the fountain in tlie Plaza
des Arraes seemed to bubble forth with additional
life and spirit on the occasion.
It was an event in Havana ; it was something
to vary the monotony of this beautiful island-
city, and the inhabitants seized upon it as a gala
day. Business was suspended ; the throng put
on their holiday suit, the various regiments ap-
peared in full regaUa and uniform, for the new
lieutenaut-commander-in-chief Avas to review
them in the after part of the day.
The ceremony of installation was peiforraed
in the state haU of the palace, where all the mili-
tary, wealth, beauty and fashion of the island
assembled, and among these the venerable and
much respected Don Gonzales, and his peerless
daughter, Isabella, and his noble boy, Ruez.
The reception hall was in a blaze of beauty and
fashion, all patiently awaiting the introduction
of the new and high official the queen had sent
from Spain to sit as second to tlie brave Tacon.
An hour of silence had passed, when at a sig-
nal the band struck up a national march, and then
advanced into the reception room Tacon', and by
his side a young soldier, on whose noble brow
sat dignity and youth, intenvoven in near em-
brace. His eyes rested on the floor, and he drew
near to the seat of honor with modest mien, his
spurred heel and martial bearing alone betoken-
ing that in time of need his sword was ready,
and his time and life at the call of duty.
Few, if any, had seen him before, and now
among the ladies there ran a low murmur of ad-
miration at the noble and manly beauty of the
young soldier. The priest read the usual servi-
ces, the customary hymn and chant were listened
to, when the priest, delegated for this purpose,
advanced and said :
" We, by the holy power vested in us, do
anoint thee, Lorenzo Bezan — "
At these words Isabella Gonzales, who had,
during all the while, been an absent spectator,
never once really turning her eyes towards the
spot where the new official stood, dropped her
fan and sprang to her feet ! She gazed but for
one single moment, and then uttering one long
and piteous scream, fell lifeless into her father's
arms. This extraordinary event startled every
one, but perhaps less him who was the cause of
it than any one else. Less, seemingly, because
he had schooled his feelings not to betray him in
so critical a moment as this must be. The cere-
mony went on quietly, and the new official was
duly installed.
" Alas, alas, for me, what can it be that has
made thee ill V said the father of Isabella, as he
bent over her couch, after getting her once more
home.
But Isabella answered him not ; she was in a
half-dreamy, half-conscious state, and knew not
what was said to her.
Ruez stood on the other side of her couch,
and kissed her white forehead, but said nothing.
Yet he seemed to know more than his father as
to what had made Isabella sick, and at last he
proved this.
" Why could you not tell Isabella and me,
father, tliat our old friend Captain Bezan was to
be there, and that it was he who was to be lieuten-
ant-governor 1 Then sister would not have been
so startled."
" Startled at what, Ruez 7"
" Wliy, at unexpectedly seeing Captain Be-
zan," said the boy, honestly.
" General Bezan, he is now. But why should
she be startled so V
" 0, she is not veiy well, you know, father,"
said the boy, evasively.
" True, she is not well, and I managed it as a
surprise, and it was too much of one, I see."
And father and brother tended by the sick
girl's bedside as they would have done that of
an infant. Poor Isabella, what amedley of con-
tradictions is thy heart !
The ceremonies of the day passed off" as usual ;
the review took place in the after part of the day,
and as General Bezan, now outranking General
Harero, rode by his division, he raised his hat to
his old comrades in arms, and bowed coldly to
their commander. His rise and new position
filled the army with wonder ; but none envied
him ; they loved then* old favorite too well to
envy his good fortune to him ; even his brother
officers echoed the cheers for the new lieutenant-
general.
But when tlie noise, the pomp, and bustle of
the day was over, and when alone in his apart-
ment by himself, it was then that Lorenzo Bezan's
heart and feelings found sway. He knew full
well who it was that uttered tliat scream, and
better, too, the cause of it; he feared that he
could neitlier sleep nor eat until he should see
her and speak to her once more ; but then again
he feared to attempt this. True, his position
gave him the entree to all classes now, and her
father's house would have been welcome to him ;
but he would far rather have seen her as the
humble Captain Bezan, of yore, than with a host
of stars upon his breast.
Isabella revived at last, but she scarcely es-
caped a fever from the shock her system, mental
and physical, had received. And how busy, too,
were her thoughts, bow never tiring in picturing
him with his new honors, and in surprise how
he could have won such distinction and honor at
the queen's hands. She read again and again
the queen's letter. Se had no heart to give. ' That
she looked upon — those few words — until her
eyes became blind at the eflbrt And still she
read on, and thought of him whom she knew
had loved her so dearly, so tenderly, and yet
without hope.
Isabella Gonzales's pride had received a severe
shock. Will she still bow low to the impulsive and
arbitrary promptings of her proud spirit, or will
she rise above them, and conquer and win a har-
vest of peace and happiness ?
The story must disclose the answer ; it is not
for us to say here.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SERENADE.
General Harero, as we have already inti-
mated, had not, for a considerable period, en-
joyed any degree of intimacy with Isabella Gon-
zales or her father, but actuated by a singular
pertinacity of character, he seemed not yet to
have entirely given up his hopes in relation to
an alliance with her. The arrival of Lorenzo
Bezan again upon the island, he felt, would, in
any instance, endanger, if not totally defeat any
lingering plans he might still conceive in his
mind to bring into operation for the furtherance
of his hopes ; but when his arrival had actually
occurred, and under such brilliant auspices for
the young soldier. General Harero was enraged
beyond control. He sought his quarters, after
the review, in a desperate mood, and walked the
narrow precincts of his room witli bitter thoughts
rankling in his bosom, and a bm^ning desire for
revenge goading him to action.
A thousand ways, all of which were more or
less mingled vrith violence, suggested themselves
to his mind as proper to adopt. Now he would
gladly have fought his rival, have gone into the
field and risked his own life for the sake of tak-
ing his ; but this must be done too publicly,
and he felt that the public feeling was with the
new official ; besides that, General Bezan could
now arrest him, as he had done the young officer
when he challenged his superior, as the reader
will remember. Dark thoughts ran through his
brain — some bearing directly upon Isabella Gon-
zales, some upon Lorenzo Bezan; even assassi-
nation suggested itself; and his hands clenched,
and his cheeks burned, as tlie revengeful spirit
possessed him and worked in his veins. While
Lorenzo Bezan was absent he was content to
bide his time, reasoning that eventually Isabella
Gonzales would many him, after a few more
years of youthful pride and vanity had passed;
but now he was spurred on to fresh eflbrts by the
new phase that matters had taken, and but one
course he felt was left for him to pursue, which
one word might express, and that was action !
Having no definite idea as to what Lorenzo
Bezan would do, under the new aspect of affairs.
General Harero could not devise in what way
to meet him. That Isabella had been prevented
from absolutely loving him only by her pride,
when he was before upon the island, he knew
full well, and he realized as fully that all those
obstacles that pride had engendered were now
removed by the rank and position of his rival.
He wondered in his own mind whether it was
possible that Lorenzo Bezan might not have for-
gotten her, or found some more attractive shrine
whereat to worship. As he realized Isabella's
unmatched loveliness, he felt that, however, could
hardly be ; and thus unsettled as to the state of
aftairs bet^veen the two, he was puzzled as to
what course to pursue.
100
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
In the meantime, while Gcnci-al Harcro was
tliiis cnynj^ed with himself, Lorenzo Bezan was
thinkitif^ upon the same subject. It was nearly
midnight; but still ho walked back and forth in
hi,s room with thoughtful brow. There was
none of the nervous irritation in his manner that
was evinced by his rival; but there wa-i deep
and anxious solicitude written in every line of
his handhome features. He was thinking of Isa-
bella. Was thinking of hei-, did wo say ; Ho
had never forgotten her for one hour since the
last farewell meeting in the prison walls. Ho
knew not how she felt towards him now — whether
a new pride might not take the place of that
which had before actuated her, and a fear lest
she should, by acknowledging, as it were, the for-
mer error, be led still to observe towards him
the same ansterc manner and distance.
" Have I won renown, promotion, and ex-
tended fame to no purpose, at last?" he asked
himself; "what care I for these unless shared in
by her; unless her beautiful eyes approve, and
her sweet lips acknowledge? Alas, how poor
a thing am I, whom my fellow-mortals count so
fortunate and happy !"
Thus he mused to himself, until at last step-
ping to the open balcony window, he looked out
upon the soft and delicious light of a tropi^'al
moon. AH was still — all was beautiful ; the
steady pace of the sentinel on duty at the en-
trance of the palace, alone sounding upon the
ear. Suddenly a thought seemed to suggest
itself to his mind. Seizing his guitar, from a
corner of his room, he threw a thin military
cloak about his form, and putting on a foraging
cap, passed the sentinel, and strolled towards
the Plato ! How well he remembered the asso-
ciations of the place, as he paused now for a mo-
ment in the shado(v of the broad walls of the
barracks. He stood there but for a moment,
then drawing nearer to the Iiouse of Don Gon-
zales, he touched the strings of his guitar with a
master hand, and sung with a clear, musical
voice one of those exquisite little serenades with
which the Spanish language abounds.
The song did not awake Isabella, though just
beneath her window. She heard it, nevertheless,
and in the half-waking, half dreaming state in
which she was, perhaps enjoyed it even with
keener sense than she would have done if quite
aroused. She dreamed of love, and of Lorenzo
Eezan ; she thought all was forgotten — all for-
given, and that he was her accepted lover. But
this was in her sleep — awake, she would not have
felt prepared to say yet, even to herself, whether
she really loved him, or would listen to his ad-
th'ess ; aicake, there was still a lingering pride in
iier bosom, too strong for easy removal. But
sweet was the pure and beautiful girl's sleep —
sweet was the smile that played about her deli-
cate mouth — and lovely beyond the painter's
power, the whole expression of soft delight that
dwelt in her incomparably handsome features.
The song ceased, but the sleeper dreamed on
in delightful quietude.
Not so without ; there was a scene enacting
there that would chill the heart of woman, and
call into action all the sterner powers of the
other sex.
Some strange chance had drawn General Ha-
rcro from his quarters, also, at this hour, and
the sound of the guitar had attracted him to the
Plato just as Lorenzo Bezan had completed his
song. Hearing aj^proaching footsteps, and not
caring to be discovered, the serenader slung his
guitar by its silken cord behind his back, and
wrapping his cloak about him, prepared to leave
the spot ; but hardly had he reached the top of
the broad stairs that lead towards the Calle de
Mercaderes {street of the merchants), when he
stood face to face with his bitter enemy. General
Harero !
" General Harcro !"
" Lorenzo Bezan !"
Said each, calling the other's name, in the first
moment ot surprise.
" So you still propose to continue your perse-
cutions towards this lady V said General Harero,
sarcastically.
" Persecutions V
" That was my word ; what other term can
express unwelcome visits ?"
" It were better. General Harero, that you
should remember the change which has taken
place in our relative positions, of late, and not
provoke me too far."
" I spit upon and defy your authority."
" Then, sir, it shall I)e exercised on the mor-
row for your especial benefit."
" Not by you, though/' said the enraged rival,
drawing his sword suddenly, and thrusting its
point towards the heart of Lorenzo Bezan.
But the young soldier had been too often en-
gaged in hand to hand conllicts to lose his pres-
ence of mind, and with his uplifted arm shrouded
in his cloak, he parried the blow, with only a
slight flesh wound upon his left wrist. But Gen-
eral llarero luid drawn blood, and that was
enough ; the next moment their swords were
crossed, and a few passes were only necessary to
enable Lorenzo Bezan to revenge himself by a
severe wound in liis rival's left breast. Mad-
dened by the pain of his wound, and reckless by
his anger. General Harcro pressed hard upon
the young officer; but his coolness was more
than a match for his antagonist's impetuosity ;
and after inflicting a severe blow upon his cheek
with tlie flat of his sword, Lorenzo Bezan easily
disarmed him, and breaking his sword in twain,
threw it upon the steps of the Plato, and quietly
walked away, leaving General Harero to settle
matters between his own rage, his wounds and
the surgeon, as best he might, while he sought
his own quarters within the palace walls.
General Harei'O was more seriously wounded
than he had at first deemed himself to be, and
gathering up the fragments of his sword, he
sought the assistance of his surgeon, in a state of
anger and excitement that bid fair, in connection
with his wounds, to lead him into a raging fever.
Inventing some plausible story of being attacked
by some unknown ruffian, and desiring the sur-
geon to observe his wishes as to secrecy, for cer-
tain reasons, the wounded man submitted to have
his wounds dressed, and taking some cooling
medicine by way of precaution, lay himself do^vn
to sleep just as the gray of morning tinged the
western horizon.
That morning Isabella Gonzales awoke with
pleasant memories of her dream, little knowing
that the sweet music she had attributed to the
creations of her own fancy, was real, and that
voice and instrument actually sounded beneath
her own chamber window.
"Ah, sister," said Ruez, "how well you are
looking this morning."
"Am I, brother?"
" Yes, better than I have seen you this many
a long day."
" I rested well last night, and had pleasant
dreams, Ruez."
" Last night," said the boy, " that reminds me
of some music I heard."
" Music ?"
" Yes, a serenade ; a manly voice and guitar,
I should judge."
" It is strange ; I dreamed that I heard it, too.
hut on waking I thought it was but a dream. It
might have been real," mused Isabella, thought-
fully.
" O, I am sure of it, and though I, too, was
but half awake, 1 thought that I recognized the
voice, and cannot say why I did not rise to sec if
my surmise was correct, but I dropped quickly
to sleep again."
"And wiio did you think it was, brother?"
asked Isal>clla Gonzales.
" General Bezan, our new lieutenant-govern-
or," said thst boy, regarding his sister closely.
" It must have been so, then," mused Isabella,
to herself; "we could not both have been thus
mistaken. Lorenzo Bezan must have been on
tlie Plat) last night; would that I could have
seen him, if but for one moment."
" I should like to speak to General Bezan,"
said Ruez; "but he's so high an officer now
that I suppose he would no led so much inter-
est in me as he did when I used to visit him ia
the government ])rison."
Isabella made no reply to this remark, but
still mused to herself.
Ruez gazed thoughtfully upon his sister ; there
seemed to be much going on in his own mind
relative to the "subject of which they had spoken.
At one moment you might read a tinge of anx-
ious solicitude in the boy's handsome lace, as he
gazed thus, and anon a look of pride, too, at the
surpassing beauty and dignity of his sister.
She was very beautiful. Her morning costume
was light and graceful, and her whole toilet
showed just enough of neglige to add interest to
the simplicity of her personal attire. Her dark,
jetty hair contrasted strongly with the pure
white of her dress, and there was not an orna-
mcnt upon her person, save those that nature
had lavished there in prodigal abundance. She
had never looked more lovely than at that hour ;
the years that had passed since the reader met
her in familiar conversation with our hero, had
only served still more to perfect and ripen her
personal charms. Though there liad stolen over
her features a subdued air of though tf nine ss, a
gentle tinge of melancholy, yet it became her
far better than the one of constant levity and
jest that had almost universally possessed her
heretofore.
Her eyes now rested upon the floor, and the
long silken lashes seemed almost artificial in
their effect upon the soft olive complexion be-
neath their shadow. No wonder Ruez loved his
sister so dearly ; no wonder he felt proud of her
while he gazed at her there ; nor was it strange
that he strove to read her heart as he did, though
he kept his own counsel upon the subject.
Kissing her clieek, and rousing her from the
waking dream that possessed her now, Ruez
turned away and left her to herself and the
thoughts his words had aroused. We, too, will
leave Isabella Gonzales, for a brief period, while
we turn to another point of our story, whither
the patient reader will please to follow.
[to be continued.]
LORD NELSON.
Human nature Is very frail. No man ever
had a stronger sense of it under the influence of
a sense of justice than Lord Nelson. He was
loath to inflict punishment ; and when he was
obliged, as he called it, "to endure the torture
of seeing men flogged," lie came out of Ins cabin
with a hurried step, ran into the gangway, made
his bow to the general, and, reading the articles
of war the culprit had infringed, said, "Boat-
swain, do your duty." The lash was instantly
applied, and consequently the surterer exclaimed,
" Forgive me, admiral, Ibrgive me !" On such
an occasion, Lord Nelson would look round with
wild anxiety, and, as all his oflicers kept silence,
he would say, " What ! none of you speak for
him? Avast! cast him oft'!" And then add,
to the suflcrlng culprit, " Jack, in the day of bat-
tle remember me !" and he became a good fel-
low in future. A poor man was about to be
flogged — a landsman — and few pitied him. His
ottence was drunkenness. As he was being tied
up, a lovely girl, contrary to all niles, rushed
through the officers, and falling on her knees,
clasped Nelson's hand, in which were the articles
of war, exclaiming, "Pray, forgive him, your
honor, and he shall never offend again." " Your
face," said Nelson, "is a security for his good
behaviour. Let him go ; the fellow cannot be
bad who has such a lovely creature in bis care."
This man rose to be a lieutenant ; his name was
William Pye.
^^^^j:^2^^i^Zj^r.
BATHING,
For persons in sound health, the best time for
bathing is immediately on rising in the morning ;
that for invalids or persons of a delicate habit of
body, is in the forenoon or evening, when the
system, strengthened by food, is also relieved
from the labor of digestion. As a general rule,
the warm bath should not be taken immediately
before retiring to rest, unless employed to excite
perspiration ; or if it is taken, it should not be
long continued, and the water should be merely
tepid. Baths should not be taken immediately
after a meal. After using the warm bath, active
exercise should be avoided for at least an hour.
It must be understood that these directions apply
only to persons in ordinaiy health. If organic
disease exist, such as headache, constipation, or
other derangement of the system, medical advice
should be taken previous to employing the bath.
In cases of bilious attack, bathing is frequently
found Injurious ; but generally speaking, If em-
ployed with discretion, It not only preserves the
health, but is a valuable and active remedy in
disease. Friction with a coarse towel after bath-
ing is also highly serviceable in promoting a
lively glow. — Wilson.
■HE Exirrujj,^
PRIZE MEDAL OF THE AMOSKEAG MANUFACTURING COMPANY.
THE AMOSK-EAG PRIZE JIEDAL.
The medal, awarded to the Amoskoag Manu-
facturing Company at the World's Fair, a fine
engraving of which we give above, is of bronze,
circular, some 2 1-2 inches in a transverse direc-
tion and 1-4 of an inch thick. It is really won-
derful how so many curious and attractive things
can be concentrated, by the hand of art, into so
small a space. On one side are busts of Queen
Victoria and Prince Albert in close juxtaposi-
tion, supported by dolphins, as if their "honey-
moon" was not yet quite over. Close by her
ladyship Is old Neptune's trident — a symbol of
the old fashioned and long ago exploded notion
that " England is mistress of the seas!" The
reverse side Is very rich in design, and of its style
of execution we cannot speak in too high terms
ofprai.se. In the foreground and centre Is In-
dustrif in a half kneeling posture, modestly ap-
paralled, holding in her^left hand the distaff, and
significantly suiTOundcd by honey bees. Great
Britain Is taking her by the right liand and put-
ting a crown upon her head with her left hand,
as a reward for the specimens of her handiwork
exhibited at the World's Fair. Europe, " turret
crowned," stands at her right, and Asia, dressed
in Oriental splendor and richness, in a loving
way, has one arm over the shoulder of Europe
and the other on the neck of Industry. A little
furtlier In the background Is Africa, a real negro
" to the manor born," in dishabille, displaying
beads and tinsels, and having an elephant's trunk
and lusk upon his head, indicating tlie ivory of
her country, Last of all comes young Ameiica^
represented by an Indian adorned with feathers
of gay plumage, and holding in her hand an un-
strung bow. These five nations are delighted
spectators at the scene of putting the crown upon
the head of Industry. In one corner is a bust of
Flaxman, the sculptor, the creations of whose
genius have done so much to illustrate the wi*xt-
ings of "the blind old man of Chios' rocky
Isle." At his right is an urn on which is a fe-
male figure. Near by is a bale of goods, a wheel
and other things indicating various departments
of mechanism, art and commerce. Over all Is
the Latin sentiment: ^' Dissociata Locis Concordi
Pace Ligavit." This is susceptible of different
renderings, of which we give one, truly liberal: —
Tilings heretofore unallied, because of their localitt/,
this Fair hath bound together in Jiarmonious peace.
On the rim is " Amoskeaq Manufacturing Com-
pany, Class 11, Prize Medal of the Exhibition."
The medal Is a splendid thing, as a work of art,
and was awarded to tlie company for their speci-
mens of Sheetings, Drillings, Cotton Flannels
and Tickings — the best at the World's Fair, and
tlie only ones that took a prize. To receive such
a medal is an honor of which the company may
well be proud.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DTlAT^^XG ROOM COIMPAjVION.
101
NEW RAILWAY AND GENERAL TRAFFIC BRIDGE, AT DRESDEN, SAXONY.
IVEW RAILWAY AND TRAFFIC RRIDGE
AT DRESDEN, SAXONY.
This novel structure across the Elbe, which at once provides a
railway viaduct and a bridge for general traffic, was designed by
two engineers, named Lohse and Reidrich, in 1845, but has only
recently been completed ; when it was opened, theii- majesties the
king and queen of Saxony, the members
of the royal fiimily, the ministers of state,
the corps diphmatiqtie, and an immense
concourse of people in carnages and on
foot, passed over the noble bridge, which
then received the name of " Marien-
Brucke," in honor of her majesty the
queen of Saxony. A platform was raised
at the end of the bridge, in the 0.stra
Alice, in the old town, on wliicli their
majesties took their station ; when the
king desired the principal persons wlio
had been engaged in the direction of the
building of the bridge to approach, and
in very flattering terms complimented
them on the successful termination of
their stupendous work. This bridge,
which is a beautiful embellishment to the
town, forms the last connecting link be-
tween the Atlantic, the North Sea, and
the Adriatic, now that the difficulties of
crossing the Simmering, in Styria, are
overcome. The accompanying sketch
shows the entrance to the two branches of
the bridge, taken from the new town.
The construction has been an engineering
work of great difficulty, on account of the
nature of the bed of the river. The cere-
mony of cutting the first turf took place
April 26, 1846; and the labor has occu-
pied six years.
THORWALDSEN'S FIRST LOVE.
It was in the spring of 1796, that Thor-
waldsen intended to commence his wan-
derings in the world, by passing over ttie
Alps to Rome; but he fell ill, and after
his recovery was depressed in mind. War
was then raging in Germany; and his
friends advised him to go I>y the royal
frigate Thetis, which was just about to
sail for the Mediterranean. He had then
a betrothed bride ; he took an honest,
open-hearted farewell, and said : '* Now
that I am going on my travels you shall
not be bound to me : if you keep true to
me, and I to you, until we meet again
some years hence, then we will be united."
They separated ; and they met again
many, many years afterwards, shortly be-
fore his death — she as a widow, he as Eu-
rope's eternally young artist. When Thor-
waldsen's corpse was borne through the
streets of Copenhagen with royal magniK-
cence, when the streets were filled with
thousands of spectators in mourning,
there sat an old woman, of the class of
citizens, at an open window — it was she,
the early love of the artist. — Andersen's
Rambles,
M'LLE. RACHEL AS VALERIA AND LYSISCA.
The fine engraving here presented to our readers affords an
accurate likeness of M'lle Rachel, the world-renowned actress of
France, as she appears in the charactei-s of Valeria, the empress,
and Lysisea, in Mr. Lacroix's tragedy of Valeria, wliich was ad-
mii'ably translated for Miss Davenport by our talented townsmen,
MADEMOISELLE RACHEL AS VALERIA AND LYSISCA.
Oliver C. Wyman, Esq., and first brought out at the Howard
Atlienceum in this city. Tlie plot of the play tuinis upon the per-
fect-resemblance of the Empress Valeria, the wife of Claudius
and a lady of the purest character, to Lysisea, who is the reverse.
Claudius is made to believe that the two persons are identical,
and the empress is charged with all the misconduct of Lysisea.
The marvellous rapidity with which
Rachel passes from one character to the
other, stamps her as an actress of the
greatest merit. This celebrated woman
was a child of Paris, and commenced her
career as a street singer. The intellectual
character of her face and the beauty of
her voice attracted the notice of a benev-
olent individual, who took her out of the
streets, educated her, and brought her out
upon the stage. Her success was most
brilliant, and she now stands at the head
of her profession. Since her own fortune
has been made, a sister of hers has adopt-
ed the stage as a profession, and been
very favorably received.
A BOLD MARINER.
Every one has heard of the little fish-
ing smacks employed in cruising along
the coast of Scotland ; which carry lier-
ring and other fish to Leith, Edinburgh,
or Glasgow, worked by three or four
hardy sailors, and generally commanded
by an individual having no other knowl-
edge of navigation than that wliich en-
ables him to keep his dead reckoning,
and to take the sun with his quadrant at
noonday. A man who owned and com-
manded one of these coasting vessels had
been in the habit of seeing the West In-
dia ships load and unload in several ports
of Scotland ; and, having learned that su-
gar was a very profitable cargo, he deter-
mined by way of speculation on making a
trip to St. Vincent, and retuming to the
Scotch market with a few hogsheads of
that commodity. The natives were per-
fectly astonished — they had never heard
of such a feat before ; and they deemed it
quite impossible that a mere fishing
smack, worked by only four men, and
commanded by an ignorant master, should
plough the boisterous billows of the At-
lantic, and reach the West Indies in safe-
ty ; yet so it was. The hardy Scotchman
freighted his vessel and made sail, crossed
the Bay of Biscay in a gale, got info the
trades, and scudded along before the wind
at the rate of seven knots an hour, trust-
ing to his dead reckoning all the way.
He spoke no vessel during the whole voy-
age, and never once saw land until the
moraing of the thirty-fifth day, when he
descried St. Vincent's right ahead ; and
setting his gaft'-topsail, he ran down un-
der a light breeze, along the windward
coast of the island, and came to anchor
about eleven o'clock. — Four Years' Resi-
dence in the West Indies.
102
GLEASON'S PICTOrJAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
[AVrltton for GIciimoh'h Pictorial.]
THE SEA SilOIlE.
BY MH8. M. w, OUHTIB.
I loTo to roam whoro tho billowy fonm
Ifl Infilling tho sea-girt nUoro ;
I lovo to bathe in tho ocean wave,
And liflt to its ceaseless roar.
"Wlion tho moonheama glow o'er tho waters* flow,
And silver tho ocean's breast,
I lovo to glide in the glistening tido,
With those whom I lovo best.
In winter time, when the wild wind's chime
Is echoing through the air,
"When the storm king dread has left his bod,
And is up from his gloomy lair :
Then the howling blast goes wliistling past,
And ttic heaving billows tower,
With a crest of foam, o'er a dark, green dome, —
Tlicn vast 1b the ocean's power.
I love tho shoro, when the day is o'er,
And twilight is gathering round ;
Then come, lot us go whore tho waters flow.
And the tiny wavelets bound.
'Tis summer time, irnd tho munnuring chimo
Of ocean zephyrs meet ;
On the sandy beach, where the waters reach,
Wo will hie with bounding feet.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE POLISH SLAVE.
A STORY OF TYRANNY IN EUROPE.
BY FKANCIS A. DUEIYAGE.
Gailt opened the bright summer moniirig on
the gray feudal tuiTets of Castle Tekeli, the resi-
dence of the old Count Alexis Tekeli, that
crowned a rocky eminence, and was embosomed
in the deep secular forests of Lithuania. The
court-yard was a scene of joyous noise and gay
confusion. ; for the whole household was m.uster-
ed for the chase. Half a dozen horses, gaily
capari.goned, were neighing, snorting, and paw-
ing the ground with hot impatience ; a pack of
staunch hounds, with difficulty restrained by the
huntsmen, mingled their voices with the neigh-
ing of the steeds ; while the slaves and relatives
of the family were all busy in preparation for
the day's sport.
Count Alexis was the first in the saddle ; aged,
but hale and vigorous, he was as alert and ac-
tive as a young man of tive-and twenty.
"Wliere are my daughters ■?" he exclaimed,
impatiently, as he drew on his buff gauntlets.
*' The sun is mounting apace, and we should not
lose the best portion of the day."
As if in reply to his question, a tall dark-haired
girl, of elegant figure and stately bearing, ap-
peared by his side, and -with the assistance of a
groom, mounted her prancing gray palfrey.
" This is well, Anna," said the count. ' But
where is Eudocia ■? She must not keep us
waiting."
" Eudocia declines to be of our party, father,"
replied the girl.
" Pshaw !" said the old man ; " she will never
have your color in her cheeks, if she persists in
moijing in her chamber, reading old legends and
missals, and the rhj'mes of worthless minnesing-
ers. But let her go ; I have one daughter who
can live with the hunt, and see the boar at bay
without flinching. Sound, bugle, and forward !"
Amid the ringing of silver curb-chains, the
baying of hounds, and the enlivening notes of
the bugle, the cavalcade and the train of footmen
swept out of the court-yard, and descending the
winding path, plunged into the heart of the
primeval forest. The dogs and the beaters dart-
ed into the thick copsewood, and soon the shouts
of the huntsmen and the fierce bay of the dogs
announced that a wild boar had been found and
started. On dashed the merry company, Count
Alexis leading on the spur. The lady Anna
soon found herself alone, but she pressed her
palfrey in the direction of the sounds of the chase
as they receded in the distance. Suddenly she
found herself in a small clearing, and drew her
rein to rest her panting steed. She had not re-
mained long in her position, when she heard, op-
posite to her, a crashing among the branches,
and the next moment a huge wild boar, mad-
dened with pursuit, and foaming with rage, broke
into tbc opening, and sprang directly towards her.
Her horse, terrified at the apparition, reared so
suddenly that he fell backwards, throwing his
rider heavily, and narrowly missing cnishing
her. Springing to his feet, ho dashed wildly
awiiy with flying mane and rein, while the lady
lay at the mercy of the infuriated animal, faint
and iTKupablc of exertion.
At that critical moment, a young man, in the
livery of the count, dashed l>cforc the prostrate
form of the lady, and dropping on one knee,
levelled iiis short spear, and sternly received tho
charge of the boar. Though the weapon was
well directed, it shivered in tlio grasp of the
young huntsman, and though he drew his short
sword witli the rapidity of thought, the boar was .
upon him. The struggle was short and fierce,
and the young huntsman succeeded in slaying
the monster, but not until he had received a
severe wound in the arm from the tusks of the
boar. Heedless of his sufferings, however, he
ran to a neighboring rivulet, and filling hi.s cap
with water, returned and sprinkled the face of
the fainting girt. In a few moments she
revived.
Her first words, uttered with a trembling
voice, were :
" Where — 'Where is the wild boar V
" There, lady," said the huntsman, pointing
to the gridy carcase of the monster. " His ca-
reer is ended."
"And it is you who have saved ray life," ex-
claimed Anna, with a grateful smile.
" I did my duty, lady," answered the hunts-
man.
" But who are you, sir ? Let me, at least,
know your name, that I may remember you in
my prayers."
" My name is Michael Erlitz ; though your
eyes, lady, may never have dwelt on one so low-
ly as myself, I am ever in your father's train
■when he goes to the chase. I am Count Teke-
li's slave," he added, casting his eyes on the
ground.
"A slave 1 and so brave — so handsome!"
thought the lady Anna ; but she gave no utter-
ance to the thought.
At this moment the count rode up, followed
by two or three of his retainers, and throwing
himself from his horse, clasped his daughter in
his arms.
" My child, my child !" he exclaimed ; " thank
God you are alive ! I saw your horse dash past
me riderless, and flew to yolir assistance. But
there is blood upon your dress."
" It is my blood !" said the slave, calmly.
" Yours, Michael '?" cried the count, looking
round him. " Now I see it all — the dead boar,
the broken spear, your bleeding arm. You
saved my daughter's life at the risk of your
own !"
" The life of a slave belongs to his master and
his master's fiimily," answered Michael, calmly.
"Of what value is the existence of a serf? He
belongs not to himself. He is of no more ac-
count than a horse or a hound."
" Say not so," said Count Alexis, warmly.
" Michael, you are a slave no longer. I wiU di-
rectly make out your manumission papers. In
the meantime you shall do no menial service ;
you shall sit at my board, if you will, and ho my
friend, if you will accept my friendship."
The eagle eye of the young huntsman kindled
with rapture. He essayed to speak, but the
words died upon his tongue. Falling on his
knees, he seized the count's hand, and pressed it
to his lips and heart. Tekeli raised him from
his humble posture.
" Michael," said he, " henceforth kneel only to
your Maker. And now to the castle; your hurt
needs care."
" Willingly," said the young man, " would I
had shed the best blood in my body to obtain
my freedom."
"Ho, there!" said the count, to his squire.
"Dismount, and let Michael have your horse.
And bring after us Michael's dearly-earned
hunting-trophy. He has eclipsed us all to-day."
Michael was soon in the saddle, riding next
to the lady Anna, who, from time to time, turn-
ed her countenance, beaming with gratitude upon
him, and addressed him words of encourage-
ment and kindness, for her proud and imperious
nature was entirely subdued and changed, for
the time, by the service he had rendered her.
When the cavalcade reached the castle, they
found the lady Eudocia, the count's eldest
daughter, waiting to receive them. She heard
the recital of the morning's adventure with deep
interest, but a keen observer would have noticed
that she seemed less moved by the recollection
of her sister's danger, than by the present condi-
tion of the wounded huntsman. It was to her
care that he was committed, as she was skilled
in the healing art, having inherited the knowledge
from her mother. She compelled Michael to
give up all active employment, and in the course
of a few weeks, succeeded in effecting a complete
restoration of tlie wounded arm.
Count Tekeli treated tlie young man with the
kindness of a fatlier, losing all his arislocratic
prejudices in a generous sense of gratitude.
Splendidly attired, promised an honorable ca-
reer in arms, if he chose to adopt the military
profession, his whole future changed by a fortu-
nate accident, Michael was happy in the intimacy
of the two sisters. He now dared to aspire to
the hand of her whom he had saved, and wliom
he loved with all the intensity of a passionate na-
ture. Thus weeks and montlis rolled on like
minutes, and lie only awaited the delivery of his
manumission papers to join the banner of his
sovereign.
One day — an eventful day, indeed for him — ■
he received from Eudocia, the elder sister, a
message, inviting him to meet her in a summer-
house that stood in a small garden connected
with the castle. Punctual to the hour named,
he presented himself before her.
" Michael," said she, extending her hand to
him, " I sent for you to tell you a secret."
Her voice was so tremulous and broken, that
the young man gazed earnestly into her face, and
saw that she had been weeping, and now with
difficulty suppressed her tears.
" Nay," said she, smiling feebly ; " it "will not
be a secret long, for I must tell it to my father
as soon as he returns from court with the royal
endorsement to yom- manumission. I am going
to leave you all."
" To leave us, lady V
" Yes. I am going to take the veil."
" You, so beautiful, so young 1 It cannot be."
"Alas! youth, beauty, are insufficient to se-
cure happiness. The world may be a lonely
place, even to the young and beautiful. The
cloister is a still and sacred haven on the road to
a better world."
" And what has induced you to take this step 1
I have not noticed hitherto any trace of sorrow
or weariness in your countenance."
" You were studying a brighter page — the fair
face of my sister. Start not, Michael ; I have
divined your secret. She loves you, Michael ;
she loves you with her whole soul. You will
wed her and be happy ; while I — " she turned
away her face to conceal her tears.
The young man heard onlythe blissful predic-
tion that concerned himself; he noted not the
pangs of her who uttered it.
"Dearest lady!" he exclaimed, "you have
rendered me the happiest of men ;" and dropping
on his knees, he seized her hand and covered it
with kisses.
"Hark!" said Eudocia, in alarm. "Foot-
steps ! We are surprised. I must not be seen
here !" and with these words she fled.
Michael sprang to his feet. Before him stood
the younger daughter of Count Alexis, her eyes
flashing fire, her whole frame quivei'ing with
passion. He advanced and took her hand, but
she flung it from him fiercely.
" Slave !" she exclaimed, " dare you pollute
with your vile touch the hand of a high-born
dame — the daughter of your master f"
"Anna, what means this passion'?" cried
Michael, in astonishment.
. " Silence, slave!" cried the imperious woman.
"What ho, there !" she added, stamping her foot.
" AYlio waits 1"
Half a dozen menials sprang to her call.
" Take me this slave to the court-yard !" she
cried vehemently. " He has been guilty of mis-
behaviour. Let him taste the knout ; and woe be
to you if you spare him ! Away with him !
Rid me of his hateful presence !"
While Michael was subjected to this hateful
punishment, the vindictive girl, still burning
with passion, sought her sister. What passed
between'' them may be conjectured from what
follows.
Michael, released from the hands of the me-
nials, stood, with swelling heart and burning
brow, in one of the lofty apartments of the castle.
He had felt no pain from the lash, but the igno-
miny of the punishment burned into his very
soul, consuming the image that had been in his
inner heart for years. The scales had fallen
from his eyes, and he now beheld the younger
daughter of the count in all the deformity of her
moral nature — proud, imperious, passionate and
cruel,
A door opened. A female, with dishevelled
hair, and a countenance of agony, mshed for-
ward, and threw liersclf at his feet, embracing
his knees convulsively. It was Anna !
" 0, Michael !" she cried, " forgive me, forgive
me ! I shall never forgive myself for the pain I
infiicted upon you."
" I have suflfered no pain," replied Michael,
coldly. " Or if I did, it is the duty of a slave to
suff'er pain. You reminded me tliis morning
that I was still a slave."
" No, no ! It is / that am your slave !" cried
the lady. " Your slave — body and soul. Be-
hold ! I kiss your feet in token of submission, my
lord and master ! Michael, I love you — I adore
you ! I would follow j'ou barelbot to the end of
the world. Let me kiss your burning wounds ;
and 0 ! forgive — forgive me !"
Michael raised lier to her feet, and gazed
steadily in her countenance.
"Lady," said he, "I loved you years ago,
when, as a boy, I was only permitted to gaze on
you, as we gaze upon the stars, that we may
worship, but never possess. It was this high
adoration that refined and ennobled my nature ;
that, in the mire of thraldom, taught me to
aspire — taught me that, though a slave, I was
yet a man. Through your silent influence, I
was enabled to refine my manners, to cultivate
my mind, to fit myself for the freedom which
bounteous Heaven had in store for me."
" Yes, yes !" replied Anna. " You have made
yourself all that can render a woman happy.
There is not a noble in the land who can boast
of accomplishments like yours ; and you aro
beautiful as a virgin's dream of angels."
" These are flattering ivm-ds, lady."
" They come from the heart, Michael."
" You have told me what I am, lady. Now
hear what I require in the woman I would wed.
She must be beautiful, for beauty should ever
mate with beauty ; high-bom, for the lowly of
birth are aspiring, and never wed their equals ;
yet above all, gentle, womanly, kind, forgiving,
affectionate. No unsexed Semiramis or Zenobia
for me."
" I will make myself all that you desire,
Michael."
" We cannot change our natures," replied
Michael, coldly.
" But you will forgive me V
" I am not now in a condition to answer you.
Smarting with indignation I can ill suppress — I
cannot command the calmness requisite to reply
in fit terms to the generous confidence of a high-
bora lady. Ketire to your apartment, lady, for
your father is expected momently, and I must
see him first alone."
Anna kissed the hand of the slave, and re-
tired slowly. A few moments afterwards, the
gallop of a horse was heard entering the court-
yard, and this sound was followed by the appear-
ance of Count Alexis, who threw himself into
the arms of Michael, and pressed him to his
heart.
"Joy, joy, Michael!" he exclaimed. "You
are now free — as fx'ce as air ! Here are the docu-
ments ; my slave no longer — ray friend always.
And as soon as you choose to join the service,
you can lead a troop of the royal cavaliers."
Michael poured out his thanks to his generous
master.
"And now," said the count, "to touch upon
a matter nearer still to my heart. Since the ad-
venture in the forest, I have loved you as a son.
To make you such in reality would be to crown
my old age with happiness. My daughters are
acknowledged to be beautiful, fitting mates for
the proudest of the land. I offer you the hand
of her you can love the best ; make your election,
and I doubt not her heart will second my wishes
and yours."
" My noble friend," said Michael, " I accept
your offer gratefully. You have made me the
happiest of men. You will pardon me, I know,
when I confess that I have dared to raise my
eyes to one of your daughters. Without your
consent the secret should have been hidden for-
ever in my own heart, even had it consumed it."
Count Tekeli shook the hand of the young
man warmly, and then summoned his two
daughters. They obeyed promptly. Both were
agitated, and bent their eyes upon the fioor.
" Count Tekeli," said Michael, speaking in a
calm, clear voice, "I have a word to say to this
your younger daughter, the lady Anna."
As her name was uttered, the young girl
raised her eyes, inquiringly, to the face of the
speaker.
" Lady, but now," said Michael, " you solicit-
ed my forgiveness on your knees."
" What !" cried the count, the blood mounting
to his temples; " a daughter of mine solicit on
her knees forgiveness of one so late my more
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
103
than vassal — my slave ! Wliat is the meaning
of this V
*' It means," cried Jlichacl, kindling as he
spoke, "that this morning;, during your absence,
count, — nay, a half horn- before your return, this,
your younger daughter, in a moment of ill-found-
ed jealousy and rage, and usurping your virtual
rights — rights you had yourself annulled, —
doomed me to the knout ! — yea, had me scourged
by menials in the court-yard of your castle !"
" How," cried the count, addressing his
daughter, " dared you commit this infamy on the
person of my friend — the saviour of your life?"
" I did, I did \" cried Anna, wringing her
hands.
"And you asked me to forgive you," said
Blichael. " You offered me your hand, and
begged me to accept it- My answer is, never,
never, never ! The moment you laid the bloody
scourge upon my back, you lost youi- hold upon
my heart forever ! I were less than a man could
I forgive this outrage on my manhood. I saved
your life — you repaid it with the lash. It is not
tlie lash that wounds, it is the shame. The one
eats into the living flesh, the other into tlie living
heart. Were you ten times more lovely than
you are, you would ever be a monster in my
eyes."
The tears that coursed freely down the checks
of the lady Anna ceased to fall as Michael ceased
to speak. A deep red flush mounted to her
temples, and her eyes, so lately humid, shot
forth glances Uke those of an angry tigress. She
turned to the count.
" Father," said she, "will you permit a base-
born slave to use such language to yoiu:
daughter V
" Silence !" said the old man. " His heart is
nobler than yours. More measured terms could
not have passed his lips. I should have despised
him had he felt and said less. Get thee to thy
chamber, and in penitence and prayer relieve thy
conscience of the sin thou liast committed."
The lady Anna retired from the apartment
with a haughty air and measured step.
"'Lady," said Michael, approaching Eudocia,
" between your sister and myself there is a gulf
Impassable. If ever I can forgive her, it must be
when those sweet and tender eyes, that speak a
heart all steeped in gentleness and love, have
smiled upon my hopes, and made me at peace
with all the world. Dearest Eudocia, will you
accept the devotion of my heart and life 1'*
He took her hand, it trembled in his grasp,
but was not withdrawn. She struggled for com-
posure for a moment, and then, resting her head
upon his shoulder, wept for joy.
The nuptials of Michael and Eudocia -were
soon celebrated. A brilliant assemblage graced
the old custle on the occasion ; but long before
the solemnization, the count's younger daughter
had fled to a convent to conceal her anger and
disappointment. She did not pass through her
noviciate, however, but returned to the world,
and ultimately married, thougli her imperious
spirit prevented her enjoying that felicity which
was the lot of her happier and gentler sister.
A MONITOR,
A gentleman had t\vo children — the one a
daughter, who was considered plain in her per-
son, the other a son, who was reckoned hand-
some. One day as they were playing together,
they saw their faces in a looking-glass ; the boy
was cliarmed with his beauty, and spoke of it to
his sister, who considered his remarks as so
many x'eflectious on her want of it ; she told her
father of the affair, complaining of her brother's
rudeness to her ; the father, instead of appearing
angry, took them both on his knees, and, witli
much affection, gave them the following advice :
*' I would have you both look in the glass every
day; you, my son, that you maybe reminded
never to dishonor the beauty of your face by the
deformity of your actions ; and you, my daugh-
ter, that you may take care to hide the defect of
beauty in your person by the superior lustre of
your virtuous and amiable conduct."
SELF-RESPECT AND SELF-DEPENDEKCE.
Be and continue poor, young man, while oth-
ers around you grow rich by fraud and disloy-
alty ; be without place or power, while others
beg their way upwards ; bear the pain of disap-
pointed hopes, while others gain theirs by flat-
tery ; forego the gracious pressure of the hand,
for which others cringe and crawl. Wrap your-
self in your own virtue, and seek a friend and
your daily bread. If you have, in such a course,
grown gray with unblenched honor, bless God
and die. — Heuizelmann.
There is nothing purer than honesty ; nothing
sweeter than charity ; nothing warmer than love ;
nothing brighter than virtue ; and nothing more
steadfast tiian faith. These united in one mind,
form the purest, tlie sweetest, tlie richest, the
brightest and most steadfast happiness.
[■Written for Gleiison's Pictorial.]
THE EVENING STAR,
Excelsior, brightest of yon bright throng,
That fill all the blue dome of heaven !
Excelsior, nightly I gaze on thee long,
More bright than the sunken sun's leyin !
Expectant I watch the skies when daylight fades,
To catch the first faint glimpse of thee ;
Enraptured I gaze, while the sweet valley-glades
No longer breathe charms for me.
Euphonious gushiogs, voluminonsly
Steal soft on the ambient air;
Ah, whence come they — these strains of sweet melody,
That ebb, flow, and swell everywhere ?
Come they from the wings of the winds in the flowers,
Or the cells at my feet in the sod 1
Ah, no, they unconsciously fall forth in showers
From the choirs in yon bright shining god.
0, would I were like thee, beauteous star,
In my place as thou art in thine, —
0, would I were like thee, glorious star,
Outpouring a light so divine.
0, would I were like thee, rarest gem,
In lustre and glory supreme ;
I would not then covet the deeds of them,
The gods that before me now gleam.
Ah, then would the world cling with throbbing delight
To my teachings, as I to thine oivn, —
Unchanging, eternal, through time's ceaseless flight ;
Ah, then I would not be unknown.
[■Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
FILLING UP THE GAPS.
BY SIRS. E. WELL3I0NT.
It is a great thing in this life to be able to fill
up the gaps or interstices that occur between our
more prominent labors. Just cast your eyes
about you, and witness the important results
which arc tlie product of odd minutes. Mrs.
Flume is, by nature, industrious. Her work-
basket always contains a few jobs just equal to
different portions of time ; and in this way she
has saved for years the aid of a seamstress.
When a shirt is to be newly collared or wrist-
banded, or the hose to be mended, or a stocking
to be finished off, or a handkerchief to be hem-
med, they are all deposited where during the
week they are sure to be taken up ; and this
work is all accomplished while some other peo-
ple would be idle. But Mrs. Toddle tells Mrs.
Flume, " it is great breach of politeness to work
before company ;" to which Mrs. Flume an-
swers : " that depends upon who are your guests,
how long they tarry, and what is the object of
their visit."
Nobody understands true politeness better
than Mrs. Flume — mere conventional rules were
never her study ; yet she has an intuitive desire
to please, and that is the secret of all civility.
Besides, she was a woman of rare discrimination.
Of course, therefore, if a gentleman from abroad,
or her clergyman, or a particular friend, whose
stay of necessity must be short, called upon her,
you would never suppose Mi's. Flume was
anxious about the finish of a garment in the
world ; but let her nearest and fomiliar friends,
who have sauntered a good while, and have a
great many particulars to relate about " change
of servants, and their trying peculiarities," or if
Mrs. Carew, her neighbor, just dropped in be-
cause it was so "lonesome" at home, or little
Miss Kitty, who always played with her fan and
parasol, when she did not twirl the tassels of the
window curtain or the sofa-cushion for a full
horn: or more, although all the while " she was
not able to stop a moment." I repeat it, when
Mrs. Flume received such guests, she always con-
ducted them to an upper sitting-room, where
was the aforesaid work-basket ; so all the gaps
which such visits would have made, were care-
fully improved.
But how was it with Mrs. Toddle ? Why,
her excuse always was want of time ; and Mrs.
Flume used to remark, she verily believed, did
she consume as much time in sewing as in hunt-
ing for a seamstress, all the difficulty would -^^
obviated.
Then Mrs. Toddle had so many intimate
friends— they were all nice people, who kept
eveiything at their homes like waxwork ; and
how could she think of adjouraing to her sittmr
room, which looked as if a humcane had s^^^^
across it? And so her friends stayecl ^^.^
time, and chatted a good deal ; a}^^^ ^^^ ^^_
plans for their husbands to ^flnn- their sum-
came wild with deliglit in ^ome watering place
mer's enjoyments, wlu:n- frolic and fun would
or celebrated res'"'
be boundless. And, as they sat and planned,
perchance little Sammy was getting a broken
skull, while the two domestics wex'c at the back
gate indulging the same species of pleasure with
then- associates, well reckoning then* mistress
would not soon retm*n — as she never did.
Now, how many gaps were here left unfilled,
which such sauntering habits had induced ?
There sat Mrs. Flume, happy in her family, or-
derly in all her arrangements, rarely vexed with
strange help, every button, string and loop in
its place, with a cheerful countenance and an
entertaining flow of conversation — for some of
those gaps were filled in with reading and occa-
sional visits herself; and then her husband was
the happiest, merriest man in the world, because
everytliing went right at home. There was no
long face to meet him with a dreary catalogue
of the day's vexations ; no Bridget had been im-
pudent to her mistress, and refused obedience ;
no nursery girl had discussed what was her
work, and therefore done none — but Mrs. Flume
was ready to sit and chat, or walk and enjoy, in
a rational manner, all the comfort of a well-
regulated household.
Mrs. Flume, too, understood what pertained
to her husband's interests ; therefore, unless he
was at ease in liis business, and sufficiently so in
his cu-cumstances to warrant it, she never pro-
posed expensive jaunts of mere pleasure-seeking ;
and yet nobody could doubt but in her autumnal
trip of a week or two after all the fashionables
had returned home, she often brought back more
in the retrospect of true enjoyment, than many
who had flitted and flirted over a vast extent of
territory, but seemed still like the migratory
bird, who only chattered still.
Mi's. Toddle and some few friends of Mrs.
Flume longed to be in her secret of extracting
pleasure from sucli everyday materials ; but as
the first process is to discipline the mind, and
then orderly to perform the duty nearest us, and
thus fill up all the chinks and gaps through
which our pleasures escape, we are in doubt
whether they will commence with resolution
enough to attain their desired object.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SONG.
BY JOSEPH H. BUTLES.
My gallant bark is on the sea,
My boat is waiting by the shore ;
Then, lovely lady, ere we part,
Give me thy gentle hand once more.
I would not draw the silver tear
From those angehc eyes of blue ;
I would not give thy bosom pain,
Since I believe thou lov'st me true.
But we must part ! I feel we must.
And from the hour my soul would shrink ;
Alas, our sighs cannot avail,
To join again love's flowery link.
When on the sleepless sea I ride,
Wilt thou bestow a thought on me,
■\rhen memory whispers of those hours
Which never, never more shall be?
MODESTY OF TRUE GENIUS.
It may be said that no man knows so well as
the author of any performance what it has cost
him, and the length of time and study devoted
to it. This is one among other reasons, why no
man can pronounce an opinion upon himself.
The happiness of tlie result beai-s no proportion
to the difficulties overcome, or the pains taken.
Materiam svpei'obat opus, is an old and fatal com-
plaint. The definition of genius is that it acts
unconsciously; and those who have produced
immortal works have done so without knowing
how or why. The greatest power operates un-
seen, and executes its appointed task witli as
little ostentation as difficulty. Whatever is done
best is done from the natural bent and disposi-
tion of the mind. It is only "^^here^^-^^ j^^"
pacity begins, that we Ijegintojf^ j^ ^^.^;
and to set an undue valng,-^i Rembrandt,
them. Correggio^M-thout premeditation or
did what _thej,T,s came from their minds as a
effort--t]^fj_ If yo,j 1jj^(J ^3i.e(| ^^^^^ ^^,^^^ ^^^^
°|5^etl this or that style, they would have an-
Jlvered, because they could not help it, and be-
cause they knew of no other. So Shakspeare
says :
" Our poesy is as a giun which issues
From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i" th' flint
Shows not till it be ; our gentle flame
Provokes itself; and, Uke the current, flies
£ach bound it chafes."
EGYPTIAN LEGEND.
Sultan Hassan, wishing to see the world, and
lay aside for a time the anxieties and cares of
royalty, committed the charge of his kingdom to
his favorite minister; and taking with him a
large amount of treasure in money and jewels,
visited several foreign countries in the character
of a wealthy merchant. Pleased with his tour,
and becomiog interested in tlie occupation he
had assumed as a disguise, he was absent much
longer than he originally intended, and in the
course of a few years greatly increased his al-
ready large stock of wealth. His protracted ab-
sence, however, proved a temptation too stiong
for the virtue of the viceroy, who, gradually
forming for himself a party among the leading
men of the country, at length communicated to
the common people the intelligence that Sultan
Hassan was no more, and quietly seated himself
on the vacant throne. Sultan Hassan returning
shortly afterwards from his pilgrimage, and, for-
timately for himself, still in disguise, learned, as
he approached his capital, the news of his own
death and the usurpation of his minister ; find-
ing, on further inquiry, the party of the usurper
to be too strong to render an immediate disclo-
sure pmdent, he preserved his incognito, and
soon became known in Cairo as the wealthiest
of her merchants ; nor did it excite any sm-prise
when he announced his pious intention of devot-
ing a portion of his gains to the erection of a
spacious mosque. The work proceeded rapidly
under the spur of the great merchant's gold, and,
on its completion, he solicited the honor of the
Sultan's presence at the ceremony of naming it.
Anticipating the gratification of hearing his own
name bestowed upon it, the usurper accepted the
invitation, and at the appointed hour the build-
ing was filled by him and his most attached ad-
herents. The ceremony had duly proceeded to
the time when it became necessary to give the
name. The chief moolah, turning to the sup-
posed merchant, inquired what should be its
name? "Call it," he replied, "the mosque of
Sultan Hassan." All stared at the mention of
this name ; and the questioner, as though he
could not believe he heard aright, or to afford
an opportunity of coiTceting what might be a
mistake, repeated his demand. " Call it," again
cried he, "the mosque of me, Sultan Hassan;'*
and throwing off^his disguise, the legitimate sul-
tan stood revealed before his traitorous servant.
He had no time for reflection ; simultaneously
with the discovery, numerous trap-doors, leading
to extensive vaults, which had been prepared for
the purpose, were flung open, and a multitude of
armed men issuing from them, terminated at
once the reign and life of the usurper. His fol-
lowers were mingled in the slaughter, and Sultan
Hassan was once more in possession of the
throne of his fathers. — Bayne's Notes and Reflec-
tiom.
A TRUE CONSCIENCE.
When the immortal Sidney was told that he
might save his life by telling a" falsehood — by de-
nying his hand-writing, he answered ; — " When
God hath brought me into a dilemma, in which
I must assert a lie or lose my life, he gives me a
clear indication of my duty, wliich is to prefer
death to falsehood."
WOBEEN IN CHINA.
Woman is in a more degraded position in
China than in any other part of the globe, and
her humiliation is rendered more conspicuous by
the extent to which civilization and education
have been carried in the empire. In no rank is
she regarded as the companion of man, but is
treated solely as the slave of his caprice and
passions. Even amongst the females of the
highest ranks, few are found who can read or
write ; their education is confined to the art of
embroidery, playing on a horrid three-sti-inged
guitar, and singing ; but the obligation of obedi-
ence to man is early inculcated, and the greater
portion of their time is spent in smoking and
playing at cards. The women of the poorer
classes have no education, and can be considered
but little better than beasts of burden. A man
of that rank will walk deliberately by his wife's
side, while she totters under a heavy load ; and
frequently may she be seen yoked to a jilough,
while her husband guides it ! Those of the
lower classes who are good looking, according
to Chinese ideas of beauty, are purchased by the
rich at about twelve or fourteen years, for concu-
bines, and are then histructcd according to their
master's ideas. The Chinese cannot at all com-
prehend the European mode of treating ladies
with respect and deference, and being naturally
superstitious, attribute to devilish arts practised
by the fair sex the just appreciation we entertain
of their value; in short, they consider* European
ladies have an influence son^'^v^at similar to
that ascribed to an evi' "S^ hy Italian supersti-
tion, Chinese d'-^'^^^^^^ ^^^'^ ^ "^^'T great ob-
jection to '^side in a European family, over
^,,,;^v a lady presides ; and an old ti-adition of
theirs curiously coincides with their superstition
about our females: "That China should never
be conquered until a woman reigned in the far
West. Some say tliat this prophecy was never
heard of until they were conquered by the ai-my
of Queen Victoria. Be this as it may, they all
contend that it is to be found in some of theii-
oldest works. — Travels in China.
PRESS on:
The mystery of Napoleon's career was this.
Under all difliculties and discouragements, to
"press on!" It solves the problem of all he-
roes ; it is the rule by whicli to judge of all won-
derful success and tiiumphal marches to fortune
and genius. It should be the motto of all.
"Press on," never despair, never be discour-
aged ; however stormy the heavens, or dark the
way, or great the difficulties, or repeated the
failures, " press on !" If fortune prove false with
thee to-day, do thou prove tnic for this to-morrow.
Let the folly of yesterday make thee wise to-day.
If thy affections have been poured out like water
in the desert, sit not down and perish of thirst,
but " press on " — a beautiful oasis is before thee
and thou mayst reach it if thou -^t.— Exchange.
104
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
J
^
i
L^
f»"V,
/-
^f<
<J-
Vn
OBSEQUIES OF MR, CLAY.
Two weeks since we g'avethe
representation of the remains of
this distinguished statesman, as
they lay in state in the City
Hall, New York. We this
week give some other scenes
relative to this event — the one
above representing the funeral
procession, the one below giv-
ing a view of Stewart's marble
palace, decorated for the occa-
sion, and the third, on the next
page, representing the bust of
Henry Clay, enveloped in the
drapery of mourning. No event
has awakened a feeling of deep-
er interest than the demise of
this distinguished civilian, who
for so long a period had min-
gled in scenes of public life ;
and from one end of the land
to the other demonstrations of
soiTOw and regard have been
made. In New York city, at
the late funeral procession on
the 20th ult., the great metrop-
olis of the western world was
shrouded in tlie habilhnents of
mourning, and in every public
aspect betokened the celebration
of a great sorrow. The day
was one of delightful tempera^
ture ; an agreeable alternation
of sunshine and shade made a
mingled heatdud coldness which
was at no time Oj^^vossive, and
was generally most agi^^^ijie^
During the previous night, ttio
biisiness of decoration had been
carried on with great energy ;
nearly every prominent editicc
on the route of the procession
had been appropriately trim-
med; flags, with crape sti*eara-
ers, had been suspended at half-
mast, and when the sun rose a
great proportion of the work
was done. Every public place
on the line of the route was
decorated with insignia emble-
matic of grief, and inscriptions
and mottoes, some of which
were very expressive, fell npon
the eye, and awakened many a
thoughtful and sad emotion.
Among many which we might
instance, we give that of Stew-
art's celebrated marble palace,
represented herewith. At this
place was a rare and remarka-
ble display. The fine marble
building was draped in crape,
aTid in front was a monument
and a tomb. A temporary bal-
cony was constructed immedi-
ately in front of the main en-
trance, and extending to a con-
T
FUNERAL PROCESSION OF THE HON. HENRY CLAY, IN NEW YORK.
fl
•''. .*?■*
i^^^ i
L
^1^ , i
fiiliuli C^ m
ofk
DECORATION OF STEW
L'EWART'S marble palace, new YORlCj IN llONUR OF
lY FUNERAL.
siderable distance over the path-
way. Upon the inside of tliis
was erected a tomb, by the side
of which sat a figure represent-
ing the genius of liberty mourn-
ing over the deceased states-
man. On either side of this
tomb were very neatly executed
representations of black willows
waving in the breeze, and attlie
back of it rose a monument
about fifteen or twenty feet
high, painted to represent mar-
ble, and bearing, engi-aved upon
the fi-ont, a medallion portrait
of Henry Clay. Toward 3 o'-
clock, P. M., the procession
commenced foi-ming, and at
that hour it started — the bells
tolling and minute-guns firing
— passing down Broadway,
around the Park, up Chatham
street, the Bowery, and 4th
avenue, to and around Union
Park, and thence dovi-n Broad-
way to the City Hall, where the
oration was delivered. Tlie
procession was tlie largest ever
witnessed in this city. "The line
of military extended over two
miles, and the various orders,
committees, clubs, lodges, be-
nevolent associations, and other
civic societies increased its
length, so that it extended from
Leonard street along the course
above designated to Canal street
— almost the entire route — a
distance of about four miles.
At tlie liead of the procession
was Gen. William Hall, grand
marshal, and his special aids,
escorted by troop of cavalry.
Next came the First Division
of New York State Militia, com-
prising the military companies
from tlie neighboring cities.
Tlie military of New York city
turned out in unusually large
numbers on this occasion, and,
with their usual good appeai"-
ance, added essentially to the
effect of tlie demonstration. —
Immediately after the military
came the funeral car, preceded
by the orator of the day and
clergy. The Light Guard, to
the nujnher of over one hundred
men, acted as the escort of
honor. The funeral car was
drawn by eight white horses,
caparisoned in a fitting manner.
The car was imposing. Its
rich, chaste decorations were
sad but appropriate ornaments
for the urn — which was a rep-
resentative of the receptacle of
the ashes qf the illusti'ious dead,
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWIXCx ROOM COMPANION.
105
■whose obsequies Tvcre celebrated. It
consisted of a plfitform, upon wheels,
covered with black, and which was
hung to the ground with the same,
richlv trimmed with gold fringes and
tassels, and decorated with ever-
greens. The letters H. C. and large
stars in gold appeared upon the hang-
ings on either side of the car, and on
the rear hangings, on a silver ground-
work, trimmed with mourning, and
surrounded by a large wreath of white
and dark roses, was the following
inscription :
Hearts which glow for freedom's sway,
Come and mourn for Henky Clay.
Upon this platform was erected a
canopy of the national colors, en-
shrouded in black, and surmounted
with a gilded eagle, also enshrouded
in crape. Two smaller flags of our
country were placed at each comer
of the canopy. The sides and top of
the car were decorated with black
plumes, properly arranged among the
ornaments. Upon the centre of the
platform, under the canopy, the urn,
shrouded with crape: and bearing the
name of Henry Clay, was situated.
A gilded eagle, draped with crape,
was placed in the rear of the um.
Altogether it was a most appropriate
and tasteful car. The bearers, 31
in number, corresponding with the
number of States in the Union, fol-
lowed the funeral car ; and, immedi-
ately behind them came in order, the
mayors of New York, Williamsburgh,
Jersey City, and Hudson, and the
common councils of New York, Wil-
liamsburgh, Jersey City, Hudson,
Patterson, and municipal committees
from other places, military and naval
officers, ex-members of Csingress, of
the State legislature, and of the board
of aldermen, judges, county officers,
magistrates, government officers, and
several civic societies. The order of
Free Masons, of which Mr. Clay was
a member, turned out a great num-
ber. There were sixteen lodges in
attendance in their regalia, carrying
their banners, and followed by the
grand lodge of the State of New York.
Next came the Democratic Republi-
can General Committee, General
Committee of the Democratic Wliig
Young Men, New York, Democratic
Eepublican Young Men's General
Committee, and the Democratic
Wbig General Committee. The
Whig General Committee of Wil-
liamsburgh in the omnibus "76"; Young Men's
Clay Club, Williamsburgh Clay Festival Asso-
ciation, and several Clay clubs. The Order of
United Americans also was well represented. A
number of chapters imited in the procession.
The mounted butchers were out in large num-
bers. Several lodges of Protestant societies were
of the character and public life of the
departed patriot, from his first en-
trance upon the stage of active duty,
onward, as his course mounted higher
and higher, until he stood before the
world intimately associated with his
country's reputation and interests,
the bold and fearless champion of her
rights and honor; in closing, a noble
tribute was paid to his virtues. " His
was the patriotism, which, leaving at
an immeasurable distance below all
lesser grovelling personal interests
and feelings, animates and prompts
to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of
devotion and of death itself. That is
purely vu'tue — that is the noblest, the
sxiblimest of public virtues. That
was the public virtue of Henry Clay.
AA^omcn of America, ye around and
on whom our affections cluster and
depend — cherish in your heart of
hearts the memory of this departed
patriot, and to the lisping infant chant
the story of his greatness and his
honest fame. Tell your children of
his filial reverence and devotion ; his
untii'ing energy, his lofiy aims, his
noble bearing, and his self-sacrificing
spirit ; and teach them * be ye, too,
the guardians and defenders of that
Union which he struggled to pre-
serve.'"— At the close of the oration,
the benediction was pronounced, the
people dispersed, and as the last rays
of daylight went down over the grave
of the patriot, in the west, the city
returned to its accustomed aspect,
and all was over. The shipping was
appropriately dressed with half-mast
flags and signals, and all ferry and
other boats plying on the rivers did
the same honor. Some stages were
properly dressed in monrning, but it
was not general. So have the people
of New York honored his memory,
and woven a chaplet of evergreen
with the cypress of mourning.
BUST OF UENi^Y CLAY IN MOUENiNG.
in the line. United Benevolent societies of the
Journeymen were present in numbers. The
Whitehall Benevolent Association, followed by
a number of carriitges, closed up the procession.
All of these companies had their appropriate
badges and banners. At the close of the march,
aud'at about 7 1-2 o'clock, the orator of the day,
clergy, and various committees, took the stand
in front of the City Hall. Rev. Dr. John IM.
Krabs then offered up a most impressive prayer.
After the prayer, N. Bowditch Blunt, Esq., dis-
trict attorney, an old and staunch friend of M]%
Clay, delivered an eloquent and appropriate
oration, in -which a glowing picture was di-a^vn
ST. HELEN'S, OREGON.
Below we give a fine view of the
town of St. Helen's, in Oregon Ter-
ritory, situated on the Columbia river,
about fifty miles from its mouth. It
was settled and named by Mr. Wm.
H. Tappan, artist, formerly of Bos-
ton, in 1849. The river is rather
more than a mile wide opposite the
town. The fork, where is seen the
schooner passing, is the lower mouth
of tlie Willamette, but the mouth
frequented by vessels bound up the
Willamette river, is eighteen miles above. The
island which divides the two is called Souveis
Island, and is large and fertile. The Pacific
Mail Steamship Company have made St. Helen's
their depot, and arc at once to erect large build-
ings and wharves. It will soon be the largest
town in Oregon.
VIEW OF THE TOWN OF ST. HELEN'S,- OREGON TERRITORY,
lOG
GLEASON'S PICTOniAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[H'ritton for Oleaflon'rt PictorliLl.]
LILLY ItLISS.
ny oonhad i
Not u, (lay has pant and fl«d,
Since my Lilly Bliss wna iloail,
But tlio south nind'H gcutlo tono,
Sccma to mourn the bird that's flown.
Nestling of my heating hrooat,
Toacoful in thy eilont rest ;
With a nilvcr harp so bright,
Angol Lilly! child of light !
Liko tho HUDshine on tho sea,
Like a tlowcr on the lea,
Was my Lilly — why complaia?
I shall meet her onco again.
Softly 'neath the ■willow .ihatZo,
In a quiet ilower-crowncd glado,
Sleeps she, lovoly in her rest,
Happy sleep, so calm and bleat.
All Bwcot Lilly's dreams are o'or,
Ferried from life's troubled shore ;
There she lies, where star-flowers weep.
In a gentle, plaeid sleep.
Birds no more will slug again
To my darling a sweet strain ;
Never more her red lips kiss
Friends on earth, dear Lilly Bliss.
But when blossoms re-appear
In another land than hero.
Fairest, lovehest in the train,
Lilly Bliss shall live again.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GRACE RICHMOND :
— OR —
THE DOUBLE MARKIAaE.
BY MRS. M. E. ROBINSON.
A FASHIONABLY di'cssed young man, who re-
joiced in the title of Napoleon Bonaparte Fitz-
i"oy, was seated in one of our first class hotels.
Upon a small table beside him, lay a curious
medley of articles, among which were newspa-
pers, cigars, white kids, toilet apparatus, opera
glasses, and, what appeared to be the most out
of place, an elegant bracelet. Raising the last-
mentioned article, the young man surveyed its
skillful workmanship for a moment, and then
re]>laced it with a self-satisfied air.
Fitzroy was supposed to be possessor of a
lai'ge fortune, and many a scheming mother
with marriageahle daughters, pointed him out as
" bait " worth securing. But their smiles, hon-
eyed words, and flattering speeches were entirely
lost upon the object of their attention. Had not
t^e obtuseness of his intellect prevented their
motives from being understood, a certain young
lady, whose fortune and person he was desirous
of possessing, would have made these efforts
vain. We would not have it understood tliat he
was attractive enough to win the heart of a sen-
sible young lady, who considered money of less
consequence than mind and manners j but he
had succeeded in convincing Mr. Richmond that
by a marriage with his daughter Grace, the
** family consequence would be increased, the
fortune nearly trebled, and the young lady afore-
said secure a husband with good principles and
correct habits, at the same time."
Such inducements could not be withstood by a
raan so worldly and avaricious as Mr. Kich-
mond ; and he accordingly gave Fitzroy to un-
derstand that he need fear no opposition on his
pai"t, and furthermore added that he would do
all in his power to hasten his suit. The young
man had an uncommonly large share of self-
esteem, and doubted not of his success. He had
not, however, the advantage of good looks.
His head was large, with " beautiful auburn
hair," as he termed it — but we fear the generality
of people would call it red — eyes of a dull leaden
color, prominent and staring, a nose that was in-
clined "to look up in the world," mouth of
huge dimensions, and an expression of foppish-
ness, self-conceit and ignorance that was some-
what repulsive.
Fitzroy leaned his bead upon his hand for a
time. He then approached a writing-desk,
placed note paper, pens, and other writing ma-
terial near him, and commenced puzzling his
brains for words to express his thoughts. Wliile
he was thus engaged, a young man entered the
apartment unpcrceived.
"Fitzroy, my dear fellow, what arc you
about?" exclaimed the latter, after be had sur-
veyed the room and its contents.
""Wliat a start you gave me," replied Fitzroy,
pushing a chair towards the new comer. " Don't
you know, Barker, that it's decidedly uiifu.shiou-
able to talk so loud. It makes us too muc!i like
common people."
"Who cares for fashion ! I don't, for one,"
resumed Barker, with a laugh. " But I say,
Fitzroy, wliat were you poring over as I came
in? A sermon, eh ?"
"Not a sermon exactly, but something about
as difiicult. "I'm ti-ying to write a polite note
to a young lady — a proceeding quite out of my
line."
" You trying to write a polite note to a young
lady !" laughed Barker, contemptuously. " I
would as soon think of seeing an elephant ^\Tite.
How long would it take you to get down on
your knees to a lady ?"
" Barker, I protest that I'll cut your acquaint-
ance if you are not more select in your language.
My nerves are exceedingly delicate, and my
feelings easily shocked. But I'll overlook it
this time on condition that you fix up this note
for mc. You've got more of the gas than I
have," resumed Fitzroy, condescendingly.
" What a splendid bracelet !" cried the other,
rudely seizing the elegant trifle. " What favor-
ite sweetheart is this intended for, and who en-
larged your bump of benevolence ?"
" That bracelet — which will surely be demol-
ished if you handle it in that rough manner — was
purchased expressly to gain the good will of
Miss Grace Richmond. You know girls fancy
those kind of things. I hope she'll like it, for it
cost me a cool fifty."
" And you were going to beg her acceptance
of it in a note ? Take my advice and deliver
the message verbally ; but if she receives it as
coldly as she did your attentions last evening, I
imagine you mil be disappointed. She don't
care a straw for you or your money, Fitzroy,
depend upon it."
"My dear fellow, you don't understand the
variations of the female character," replied Fitz-
roy, stroking his imperial. "Miss Richmond
was aware that people were looking on, and, of
course, was too timid to show the pleasm'e she
felt; but all that will wear off in time."
" Miss Richmond's number of admirers is not
limited. They are numerous ; and to use no
flattery, you are the one she would be the least
likely to make choice of for a husband."
" I know I'm not appreciated as I should he,
but I'll be magnanimous, and bear it like a hero.
Genius is sure to triumjih. You quite forget, in
regard to the young lady we wei-e speaking of,
that her father has a right to influence her
choice ; and I have his word that that influence
shall be used in my favor. But I have no fears.
The name of Napoleon Bonaparte Fitzroy is
enough."
" Yes, quite enough, as you'll find," muttered
Barker, as he left the room. " His insufferable
self-conceit and affected knowledge are sufficient
to disgust any one. If it wasn't for his money,
he'd soon have one friend the less."
Grace Richmond — a fair-haired, beautiful girl
of nineteen years — was seated in an elegantly
furnished parlor. At this time, there appeared
a shade of sadness upon her fair brow. The
long silken lashes drooped over the mild blue
eyes, as she leaned her head upon her Iiand.
She seemed thinking of the past — calling up
words long since spoken. Memory was impar-
tial ; for, judging from the changing expression
of the countenance of Grace, it brought both
pleasant and painful recollections.
The thoughts of the maiden were on one whom
she feared had proved untrue. She had been
privately engaged to a young gentleman for
nearly two years. She had known him from
childhood, and until now, had never doubted his
words or intentions. A month after their en-
gagement, he had left the country to try his for-
tune in other lauds. It was hard to separate so
soon after discovering that each was necessary
to the other's happiness; but Walter Landon
knew full well ho could never hope to gain tlic
consent of Mr. Richmond, unless he had wealth
to lay at his feet. Walter was rich in intellect,
but poor in this world's goods ; he bad nothing
but a strong arm, an indomitable will, and a
clear conscience. With these, however, any
man may win himself a name and fortune.
Grace feared she was not acting conscien-
tiously in not informing her father of tliis fact ;
but Walter persuaded her that she would only
inem* his displeasure and it would be better to
say nothing of it. They parted with mutual
vows of constancy — he to toil and struggle man-
fully with fickle fotlune, she to hope that his
efforts might bo successful, and that a long,
happy future might he in .store for them.
For nuirc tlian a year, Ijy means of a friend,
slic bad regularly received letters from Walter.
Tliey had spoken of unhajicd-for success in his
business, and breathed so much deep and pure
affection that the heart of Grace grew hopeful
and happy. But, alas, disappointment is the lot
of all. Months passed away, and not a syllable
was heard from Walter. What could be the
reason ? Was he ill ? If that were the case, he
could certainly have found means to inform licr
of the fact. Had the missives miscarried ? No
trouble, in this respect, had been experienced
before, and it did not appear reasonable that
such should be the case. Had he forgotten his
words of love, and found another fond and con-
fiding heart to deceive for a brief season? Tlie
thought was agony, and for a time, Grace was
very miserable. But the storm of bitterness and
injured feeling rolled away. Woman's true
affection conquered.
" Wliy should I doubt him ?" thought Grace.
" These delays may be accounted for in many
ways. I will hope on — trust on, the same.
Should he forsake mc, I could never think coldly
on him. I could not bear to tear away the
bright and cherished image that so long has
been enshrined in my heart. Away, tempter !
I will not distrust him."
A step was heard in the hall. Grace arose to
leave the room, but her father met her on the
threshold.
"Come back a moment, Grace; I wish to
speak with you upon an important subject," said
Mr. Richmond.
Grace obeyed in silence. The cloud on his
brow betokened a storm, and she knew his mood
too well to thwart him.
" You have taken the liberty, without my con-
sent or advice, to refuse several good offers of
maiTiage of late ; and from gentlemen, too, that
would disgrace no one by a connexion with
them," resumed Mr. Richmond, in a determined
voice. " Will you give your reasons for this
course of conduct?"
" I am grateful, father, for the honor any gen-
tleman may have intended me by the offer of his
baud ; he may command my respect and esteem,
but not my love," replied Grace, earnestly,
though respectfully.
" Your love !" exclaimed J'li'. Richmond, con-
temptuously ; " and what has love to do with the
business, forsooth? It isn't at all necessary to
happiness. It never influenced me in m^ choice ;
and I don't believe in the word."
Grace thought of the loved mother who, years
before, had passed to the land of shadows ; she
remembered her sad, patient smile, and the lines
that grief had furrowed on a brow once fair and
beautiful. The daughter doubted not the truth
of his words, but was silent. Seeing that she
made no answer, Mr. Richmond went on :
" I have taken the matter into my own hands.
I have selected you a husband, and you will
please abide by my decision."
" What is the gentleman's name ?" asked
Grace.
" Mr. Napoleon Bonaparte Fitzroy."
" And can you be serious, father?"
" Of course, girl ; why not ?"
" I can never many him," resumed Grace,
resolutely.
" Never man-y him !" cried her father, angrily.
"And pray will Miss Richmond deign to give
some of her many reasons for this unfilial de-
portment," he added, angrily.
"I would not be disrespectful, father," replied
our heroine, calmly. " I will give you my rea-
sons, however, if you require it. In the first
place, his presence is very disagreeable to me."
" Well."
" Secondly, his manners betray much want of
refinement ; his conversation is coarse, and his
foppishness and egotism insufferable."
" What next ?"
"His ignorance would cause a woman possess-
ing common sense to blush at every word he
uttered."
" Complimentary, certainly ! anj-thingmore?"
" Every one to their taste ; but / do not admire
his personal appearance," continued Grace, de-
murely. " Some people might fancy the color
of his hair, but I never liked red. His nose is
not of the right shape, his mouth terribly lai-ge,
his neck ostrich-like, person ill-proportioned and
awkward, his hands and feet — "
" Stufi' and nonsense !" interrupted Mr. Rich-
mond, laughing in spite of liimself. " You have
not given one sensible reason."
"And last, but not least, I do not respect liim
at all, and therefore cuuid not promise to Move,
lionor and obey him,' " added Grace.
" You should have accepted the bracelet he
tells me he ofl'ercd you."
"I never accept presents from gentlemen;
but were I in the habit of doing so, I would not
have encouraged him so much for a hundred
bracelets," was the fearless rejoinder.
" Grace Richmond, listen to me ! You are
my only child and heir. On the day of your
maiTiage, if you marry according to my wishes,
your settlement will be large ; but if you throw
yourself away upon a needy adventurer, I will
cut you off with a shilling. Nay, more ; if you
do not marry the man I have designated, you
arc no daughter of mine. My will is irrevocable.
I give you two weeks in which to decide."
Mr. Richmond noticed not the look of entreaty
which Grace cast upon him, but deliberately left
the room.
Grace was strong minded, and did not fear, as
we have seen, to express her unqualified senti-
ments to her father. She knew his disposition
well, and felt assured his resolution would re-
main unshaken ; for the fortune of Fitzroy was
probably the atti-action that allured Mr. Rich-
mond. Along cunflict followed in the bosom of
Grace between inclination and duty. But what
was her duty ? Was it to sacrifice a lifetime, to
gratify the avarice of a father — to stifle all the
higher and holier feelings of her nature — destroy
her own happiness, and perhaps, that of another ?
This last thought brought up a train of reflec-
tions in reference to Walter. Was he living?
If so, would he return to claim her as his bride 1
The questions remained unanswered.
A merry laugh rang through the room. Grace
brushed aivay a tear and looked up. Annette
Delaney, a pretty brtmettc, stood beside her.
Happiness sparkled in her bright black eyes, and
the rosy cheeks were glowing with health and
animation.
" Grace, my dear, I want you to go with me
to Stewart's. 0, such beautiful brocades ! I
must have one, and I want the aid of your supe-
rior taste in selecting it. But what's the matter,
darling ? You look pale and sad," said Annette,
affectionately placing an arm about her waist.
" I know I'm foolish, Annette," replied Grace,
smiling sadly. " But I have been thinking, and
feci somewhat nervous."
" Don't plague your poor little head about
Walter. I am looking for a letter for you every
day. Perhaps he is ill, or the missives have
been lost. You'll both be happy, yet," said
Annette, encouragingly.
" It is not that which ti'oubles me, wholly.
My father tells me I must accept Mr. Fitzroy as
my husband !"
" What ! that awkward monkey ?" ejaculated
Annette. " You would be obliged to spend the
honeymoon in giving him the first principles of
civilization. He looks and acts, for all the
world, like a black bear dressed in pants, on his
first appearance. Make him a bag, Grace, for
him to put his hands in, for he never knows
what to do with them. Useless encumbrances,
altogether. But, seriously, is yom" father in
earnest?"
" I never saw him more so. What can I do,
Annette? If I thought Walter had forgotten
me, I — "
" Don't be silly, Grace ; for in case he has, I
hope you wouldn't be so unwise as to substitute
that great awkward Napoleon Bonaparte in his
stead."
" But my father's commands, Annette ?"
" Duty does not bid you sacrifice everything
to please him. Be firm in your refusal, and if
worst come to worst, you will always find a
home at my fathei-'s," replied the otlicr.
" You may be right, Annette, hut it grieves
me deeply to be forced to disobey my father.
O, that I could hear but one word from Walter!
That would re-assure mc, and give me hope. I
might then perhaps venture to tell my father all."
" It would do no good, I am sure," said An-
nette. "It would only serve to make him firmer
in his resolve. But come, dear Grace, put on
your hat and walk with me. The air is clear and
bracing, and will bring back the bloom to that
faded cheek. Banish Napoleon Bonaparte from
your thoughts, and (ry and be happy."
The buoyant spirits of Annette chased away
the sadness of Grace. For a time she forgot her
troubles, as they joined the busy stream of life
that filled Broadway.
During the time wbich Mr. Riclnnond had
given Grace in which to make her decision, tho
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM CJOMP ANION.
107
latter had been much annoyed by the pertina-
cious Fitzroy. In vain did she try to avoid him
— in vain she treated him with coklncss and ne-
glect. To her repeated assertions that a reluct-
ant hand without a heart -would be valueless,
some coarse rejoinder would make her eye
sparkle with anger and disdain, and send the
blood rushing to her face.
At the expiration of two weeks, IVIi-. Eichraond
entered his daughter's room. Grace was pale,
and her sadness would have touched her father's
heart had he possessed common parental feeling ;
but the god of this world had hardened his heart,
and rendered it insensible to everything, save
gain and distinction.
" I hope you are sensible of your error, and
have decided to be guided by me, my dear
Grace," he remarked, in a more affectionate
manner than usual.
*'Do not be offended, father, when I say that
I have not changed my mind in reference to Mr.
Eitzroy," replied Grace.
" He told me of this, but I could not believe a
daughter of mine would dare rebel against my
authority. Don't forget I am your father !"
cried the parent, with rising anger.
" I forget nothing," answered Grace, calmly.
" But to comply with yom* request would be to
sacrifice everything w^orth living for. He has
not a single redeeming quality."
" But his gold redeems all ! Know, Grace
Richmond, that I will be obeyed ! It shall never
be said that I am not master in my own family !
Hear me ! In tliree days from this you become
a bride, or — " The excited father paused, and
shook his finger threateningly.
" I know the alternative, and am prepared to
abide by it," said Grace. But her voice shook,
and tears filled her eyes when she thought of
leaving the home of her childhood. "Father,"
she added, with touching earnestness, "you
have been indulgent to me, and I am very grate-
ful ; but do not, I entreat of you, force me to
forsake my only parent. Your gray hairs speak
of declining yeai's, and soon you will need a
daughter's care."
" Prate not to me ! I am not to be moved by
silly cant !" exclaimed Mr. Richmond, closing
the door behind him with a force that jarred the
house.
Mr. Richmond did not fully understand his
daughter's character. He did not believe, when
the time came, that she would dare set his
authority at defiance and resist his -will. How
far he was mistaken, the sequel wdl tell. Fitz-
roy had told him he was an Englishman by
birth, and some day, not far distant, would come
into possession of a title. He should soon visit
his native land to display his beautiful bride
among his rich and distinguished relatives for a
season, and then return to America to join the
father-in-law, and make a happy family circle.
The glowing announcement sounded pleas,
antly on tlie ears of the credulous father, who,
however, thought it best to say nothing of this to
Grace, but leave it for a happy surprise. A rich
son-in-law, with a title in prospective, was not
to be slighted ; and Mr. Richmond invited die
guests, and set about the usual preparations, not
forgetting to supply Grace with abundant means
to purchase the needful outfit.
Fitzroy, upon being informed of her deter-
mined refusals, suggested the propriety of
placing a guard over her that she might not out-
wit them. Her father had accordingly engaged
an elderly woman to attend Grace, both in doors
and out, until she was married. The woman,
who was kind and good-hearted, won the confi-
dence of Grace, who told her the story of her
engagement, and the situation in which it was
placed. To the astonishment of our heroine,
the woman was no stianger to Walter Landon.
She had kno^vn him from infancy, liaving for-
merly lived in the family. From her sympathy
and encouragement, Grace drew a gleam of
hope. The woman promised that, instead of
fonvarding her father's scheme, she would try
and devise some plan to aid the daughter.
The evening which was to make Grace a bride
arrived. The moon shone witli a bright, mellow
light, and the stars twinkled menily in the sky
of blue. One by one, the guests airived to wit-
ness the ceremony. The clergjTnan had gravely
entered the room and taken tlie seat destined for
his use. On his appearance, merry voices were
hushed, and smiles faded from the coimtenances
of those present.
Fitzroy, as he waited in an ante-room, moved
uneasily in his chair, and glanced nervously to-
wards the door. His dress was as foppish, and
his demeanor as conceited as ever. The short,
crisp, red curls had evidently x'cceived an addi-
tional twist. His head— large as it was — re-
mained almost hidden in tlie shadow of an im-
mense dickey, over which was tied a fancy neck-
cloth, with long ends depending. His shoulders,
which dame Natm-e had left in an unfinished
state, did not admit of a coat being made to fit
them ; and it was accordingly laid on, as the next
best arrangement. He put on and took off his
gloves half a dozen times while huiTiedly pacing
tlie room, and wondering why " Grace did not
come."
The company looked inquiringly at one an-
other, and the minister once consulted his watch.
Mr. Richmond at last sent a servant to ask the
cause of the delay. He soon returned with the
startling announcement that " Miss Grace was
not to be found, nor the woman that was with
her."
We can, perhaps, imagine the consternation of
Fitzroy and the father, to say nothing of the
surprise and significant looks of the guests.
While all was confusion, and the house was be-
ing searched, a carriage drew up to the door,
and four persons — two gentlemen and two ladies
— entered the apartment. In tlie forward couple
we recognize Grace and Walter Landon ; in the
the other, Annette Delancy and her betrothed.
" Father," said Grace, advancing, " i am
sorry to have kept you waiting. Let me inti'o-
duce to you my husband, Mr. Walter Landon."
" Tour husband ! "What docs this mean !" he
cried.
"And what am / to do V exclaimed Fitzroy ;
but as he caught sight of Walter's featm'es, he
gi'ew pale and would have left the room.
"Draw the thread, and use the 'goose,' as
usual, Simms ; you will do the b6st at your old
ti'ade," answered Walter, witli a smile.
" Thread ! goose ! trade ! What do I hear 1"
cried the astonished fatlier. " Whose dupe have
I been? Wlio is this stranger? Why don't
you speak, Grace'?"
" You have been led to believe that this de-
signing person — who calls himself Fitzroy, but
whose real name is John Simms — was a man of
fortune," replied Grace. " In this, you have
been deceived ; he is a tailor of this city, who,
by means of a lottery ticket, acquired the means
to palm himself off for another, hoping to secure
a fortune by a marriage with myself. In Mr.
Landon, now my lawful husband, you perceive
one to whom I have been secretly engaged for
nearly two years. It is the first and only time
I have deceived you, my dear father, and will
you not forgive mel He was my choice ; but
wishing to have wealth at command, ere he
asked my hand, he went abroad. Success has
crowned his efforts. But most fortunate of all,
he returned just in time to prevent me from for-
saking my home and father, or marrying one
whom I abhorred. True to each other, we
adopted the means to secm'e our mutual happi-
ness, and are here to confess and obtain your
forgiveness."
Mr. Richmond looked around for Fitzroy.
He had taken aHvantage of the confusion inci-
dent to the occasion, and withdrew unobserved.
This was proof sufficient that the words of Grace
were ti*ue.
" The rascal ! — but he shall suffer for this !"
cried the angry parent. " How dare he deceive
me — a respectable merchant — in this way ! I
will publish him to the world !"
" Heed him not, father," intemipted Grace,
earnestly. " He's not worthy a thought. Do
you not see the guests are getting uneasy in the
next room, and wondering at our absence ? the
worthy clergyman is even losing his dignity
someuhat."
By the joint efforts of Grace and Walter, Mr.
Richmond began to show signs of relenting,
upon assuring himself that the bridegroom was
not really poor, and might do for a husband, as
matters had gone so far. He insisted, liowevcr,
that they should stand up and have the ceremony
pei-formcd again, that everything " might be
done respectably."
The request was complied with. The clergy-
man performed his ofiice, and they were doubly
mairied. Mi-. Richmond was not so hard-heaited
as he seemed. The happiness of Grace and her
husband grew contagious ; her father really look-
ed pleased, and the evening that had commenced
in such a singular way, ended in an agreeable
and satisfactory manner to all concerned.
Walter had written regularly to Grace, but
from some cause not explained, his letters had
never reached the place of their destination.
"Napoleon Bonaparte Fitzroy" left for parts
unkno-csTi, leaving his bill unpaid at the liotel.
A recollection of " titles in prospective," some-
times brings a frown to the brow of Mr. Rich-
mond ; but the prattling of a second fair-haired,
blue-eyed Grace sends it away, and reminds
him of a double marriage.
[AVritten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LINES TO EBOIA.
BT J. ALFORD.
May virtue ever prove the breastplate of innocence,
And honor, its protecting shield.
Though the green leaf, with envious veil,
Awhile the rosebud's hues conceal ;
Yet from the parent stock I know
How bright its crimson tmts shall glow.
AVliat sweets its silken leaves disclose,
■\Mieu time unfolds the fuU blown rose !
Sweet bud I I sing thy maiden grace !
Thy beauteous eyes, thy smiling face,
Are sweetly bright ; for in those eye3
No secret grief in ambush Ues ;
Deception lurks not in thy smile.
The gazer's bosom to beguile.
But when, matured by riper years.
In woman's pride each charm appears,
Then some fond youth thy power shall prove,
And bow before the shrine of love ;
While friends, with admiration, see
Bright virtue's gems shine forth in thee.
CLOTH MADE OF PINE APPLE LEAVES.
At Singapore, in the East Indies, there is
quite a thrifty branch of business m preparing
the fibres of jjine apple leaves for exportation to
China, where they are manufactured into eloth.
The process of extracting and bleaching the
fibres is exceedingly simple. The first step is to
remove the fleshy or succulent side of the leaf.
A Chinese, astride on a naiTow stool, extends
on it in front of him a pine apple leaf, one end
of which is kept firm, being placed beneath a
small bundle of cloth on which he sits. He then
with a kind of two-handled plane of bamboo re-
moves the succulent matter. Another man re-
ceives tlie leaves as the}-^ are planed, and with
his thumb nail loosens and gathers the fibres
about the middle of the leaf, which enables him
by one effoit to detach the whole of them from
the outer skin. The fibres are next steeped in
water for some time, after which they are washed
in order to free them from the matter that still
adheres and binds them together. They are now
laid out to dry and bleach on nide frames of
split bamboo. The process of steeping, washing
and exposing to the sun is repeated for some
days until the fibres are considered to be prop-
erly bleached. Without further preparation they
are sent into town for exportation to China,
Nearly all the islands near Singapore are more
or less planted with pine apples, which, at a
rougt estimate, cover an extent of two thousand
acres. — Eastern Travels.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
WHERE lyWELJj THE ANGELS?
BY JOSEPH W. NTE.
I've heard that angels dwelt alone,
In a far off, celestial sphere,
"Where ne'er is heard a sufferer's moan.
Or mourner's sigh breaks on the ear.
But is it only there they roam,
O'er blooming fields of happiness ?
Is that bright world their only home ?
Celestial robes their only dress ?
Ah no, metbinks, for I have seen
■RHiat could not be than angel leas.
Begirt not with a wondrous sheen,
But wearing mortal form and dress.
She lingered in the chamber, where
A loved one had lain do^ii to die ;
I called her then an angel fair,
I saw the angel in her eye.
I marked her look, and noiseless tread,
Her unremitting watchfulness
Beside that solemn, dying bed,
Wliich her dear presence so did bless.
Ah, then methought 'twere sweet to die,
With that kind, gentle being near,
In whose mild, softly beaming eye,
Glistened the sympathetic tear.
n ^m^ >
A WISE REMARK.
" Having in my youth," says a celebrated Per-
sian writer, ''notionsof severe piety, I used to rise
in the night to watch, pray, and to read the Koran.
One night, whilst deeply engaged in these exer-
cises, a man of practical virtue awoke whilst 1
was reading. ' Behold,' said I to him, ' thy
other children are lost in in*eligiou3 slumber,
whilst I alone awake to praise God.' ' Son of
my soul,' he answered, ' it is better to sleep than
to wake to remark the faults of thy brethren.' "
— Saturday Courier.
LIFE-WHAT IS IT?
Change is the common feature of society.
The world is like a magic lantern, or the shift-
ing scenes of a panorama. Ten years convert
the population of schools into men and women,
the young into fathers and matrons, make and
mar fortunes, and bury the last generation but
one. Twenty years convert infants into lovers,
fathers, and mothers, decide men's fortunes and
distinctions, convert active men into crawling
drivellers, and bm-y all preceding generations.
Thirty years rise an active generation from non-
entity, change fascinating beauties into bearable
old women, convert lovers into grandfathers,
and bury the active generation, or reduce them
to decrepitude and imbecility. Forty years,
alas ! change the face of all society. Infants are
growing old, the bloom of youth and beauty has
passed away, two active generations have been
swept from the stage of life, names so cherished
are forgotten, unsuspected candidates for fame
have started from the exhaustless womb of na-
ture fifty years — why should any desire affections
from maturity for fifty years ? It is to behold a
world of which we know nothing, and to which
we are unknown. It is to weep for the genera-
tions long gone by — for lovers, for parents, for
children, for friends in the grave. It is to see
everything turned upside down by the fickle
hand of fortune, and the absolute despotism of
time. It is, in a word, to behold the vanity of
life in all the vanity of display. — Vermont Watch-
man.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GOD KEEP MY MEMORY GREEN.
BY CAROLINE A. HAYDEN.
0, take them not away,
Those by-gone hours the heart so loves to cherish ;
Let them return to bless me while I stay, —
I would not one amidst them all should perish.
GiTe back the summer sunshine and the flowers,
That gladdened with their beauty many a scene ;
Give back the gloom, the soul-refreshing showers —
I need them all ; God keep my memory green.
And whatsoe'er thy hand has spread before me,
Whether of pain or pleasure, joy or woe ;
The treasured memory of the past shed o'er me,
Like angels' smiles, shall cheer me as I go.
Take what thou wilt — if hope too much has given,
I ask not cloudless skies, joys too serene ;
I know the chains that bind must oft be riven,
I ask but this : God keep my memory green.
I HAVE NO TOIE TO STUDY.
The idea about the want of time is a mere
phantom. Franklin found time in the midst of
all his labors to dive into the hidden recesses of
philosophy, and to explore the untrodden path
of science. The great Frederick, with an em-
pire at his direction, in the midst of war, on the
eve of battles which were to decide the fate of
his kingdom, found time to revel in the channs
of philosophy and intellectual pleasures. Bona-
parte, with all Eiu'ope at his disposal, with kings
in his ante-chamber begging for vacant thrones,
with thousands of men, whose destinies were
suspended on the brittle thread of his arbitrary
pleasures, had time to converse with books.
Csesar, when he had curbed the spirits of the
Roman people, and was thronged with visitors
from the remotest kingdoms, foimd tinie for in-
tellectual cultivation. Every man has time if
he improves it as well as he might, and can reap
a three-fold reward. Let mechanics then make
use of the hours at their disposal, if they want
to obtain a proper influence in society. They
are the life-blood of the community ; they can, if
they please, hold in their hands the destinies of
our republic ; they are numerous, respectable,
and powerfid ; and they have only to be educated
half as well as other professions, to make laws
for the nation. — N. Y. ^firror.
0 how portentous is prosperity I
How comtt-like ; it threatens while it shiucs 1
Young
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A VOICE FROM HOME.
BY REBECCA H. PIERCE.
I hear a voice in my quiet dreams,
Like fairy music — so soft it seems ;
It .speaks to my heart in a plaintive tone,
And bids me come to my early home.
It wakes o'er my spirit a dreamy spell,
Of familiar tones and scenes loved well ;
Of loving hearts, where no blight has grown,
That cluster around my early home.
'T is thus, at the hour of dewy morn.
When rosy buds and sweet odors are bom ;
Like the plaintive lay of some dreamy rill,
That witching voice — it haunts me still.
It tells me of clouds with a richer dye.
That mingle my tints in their native sky ;
Of fairer flowers, that sweetly bloom
Around the path of my early home.
A TEACHER BY EXAiMPLE.
I once escaped at tabic die well-meant perse-
cutions of the kind-liearted wife of a medical
friend, from whom, ever and anon, came tlie in-
quiry of what I would take next .' Tliis liad
been so often repeated, that I had begun to look
round, fearing that my character, as a teacher
by example, miglit sufl'cr, and replied that, " If
she pleased, I would take breath." It was
saucy and ungrateful, but it was good-naturedly
rcccix'ed and understood. — The Stomaeh and its
Df£icuhies, by Sir James Eyre.
108
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
MADAME 3IAL1BUAN.
On this pa;j:o wc present three ciigravinfjs rclntivo to this dis-
tinfjuislicd vocalist; the first represents tlic l)ust of Miulixmc Mul-
ibnin, the second, her statue, and the tlurd gives a view of her
tomb. The name of Madame Maria Malibran, one of tlio sweet-
est singers of the ago, is familiar to all of our countrymen and
countrywomen who lovo the "divine art" of music, llcr death
in early life a few years since, is yet mourned by the musical
world. She was the daughter of the celebrated Garcia, and while
quite young, in all the freshness of hor fame and voice, visited
this country, and as tlio prima doima of the Italian opera com-
BUST OF BUDAME MALIBRAN.
pany of New York, was the delight and idol of that imperial city
for a long time. She left it to triumph in all the musical capitals
of Europe — the acknowledged queen of song. Her marriage with
Malibran was an unhappy one; that with Dc Bcriot, tlie violinist,
was a love-match. But she did not live long to enjoy the happi-
ness denied to her earlier years. A rapid decline carried her to
the grave in the midst of hope. She is buried in the cemetery of
Lacken, in Germany. The bust we herewith present has some-
thing touching in its Iiistory. It was modelled by De Beriot, her
bereaved husband, who found in his love and his earnest desire to
preserve the features of the beloved one, the inspiration of the
sculptor. It is his first and. only work of the kind.
STATUE OF MADAME M-iLIBRAN.
RANGOON.
Kangoon, the principal port of the Burman empire, a view of
which we give below, is built on the most eastern branch of the
River Irrawaddy, about twenty-six miles fiom the sea ; and, though
the navigation is somewhat intricate, the difficulties are easily
overcome by good pilots ; so that vessels of 1200 tons have pro-
ceeded to the port. The town lies on the left bank of tlie river,
from the banks of which tlie ground rises gradually for more tlian
two miles to the foot of the liill on which the grand Dagong Pa-
goda is built, the base of which appears to be seventy or eighty
feet above the level of the Irrawaddy. The town and suburbs
extend about a mile along the bank of the river; the streets are
narrow; the houses arc raised on bamboos, or strong timbers.
The few brick-built houses belong chiefly to Europeans, who pay
a heavy tax for this privilege — no subject of the Burman empire
is permitted to erect a brick building. These brick houses are
built within the myo or city, which is an irregular quadrangle,
surrounded by a stockade, composed of heavy beams of teak tim-
ber. On the south side of this stockade, towax*ds the I'ivcr, is a
ditch, over which there is a causeway. From this face of the
stockade, two I>rick-)iavcd roads lead to the great pagoda, Shewl
Dagong, and along the sides arc built a number of .s/VA's or monu-
ments, in honor of Buddha. In form, they resemble a spcaking-
tinimpct standing on its base : the lower part is generally a poly-
gon, and the shaft, or upper part, is round, the apex being orna-
mented with an iron net in the form of an umbrella, called a //.
The Shewl Dagong is in the same style as the rest, but richly gilt
all over; it is said to lie about 278 feet high, and is surrounded
by an enclosure, in which is an immense bell, of very rude fabric.
This pagoda is a place of pilgrimage, fre{|ucnted by many stran-
gers. Rangoon is very convenient for ship-building, as the tide
rises from eighteen to twenty-four feet, and the great teak forests
are near it, whence the timber may be floated down the whole
way. It has been built atiout a century. The climate is tcmper-
y-rf.
TOMB OF MADAME MALIBRAN.
ate, agreeable and salubrious. The place, at first, rose slowly :
even at the beginning of the present century, the number of ves-
sels that cleared out was only from eighteen to twenty-five annu-
ally : in twenty years, they were doubled. Since the time of its
occupation by the British, its commerce with Calcutta and other
British possessions in India, has been continually increasing.
The most active commerce is carried on with Chittagong, Dacca,
Calcutta, Madras, Masulipatum, the Nicobar Islands and Pulo
Penang ; there is also some trade with Bombay. The exports are
teak-wood, catechu, stick lac, beeswax, elephants' teeth, raw
cotton, orpiment, gold, silver, mbics and horses. Raw cotton, of
superior quality, is sent to Dacca for the fabrication of fine muslin.
VIEW OF RANGOON, THE PRINCIPAL PORT OF THE BURMAN EMPIRE.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
109
^I
^?mm^
iy-^;^iy^ifS
TEEDEEICK GLEASON, Proprietoe.
MATDKIK M. BALLOU, EDITOK.
CONTENTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER,
" Liberty vs. Love : or The Soldier's Triimipb," a story,
by Mrs. H. Mareon Stephens.
" The Miner of the Hartz, a tradition of the Khine," by
H. Peuc.kn.
" Juan and lola, a story of the Bastile," by Edward J.
Handiboe.
" The Young Husband : or Hearts' Histories," by Mrs.
S. M. HOMPHRET.
*' The Prayer of the Mariner's Wife," verses, by Robert
G. Staples.
" A song of Summer," by J. H. Butler.
'' Fear," lines, by Isabel Ashton.
" Day followeth Day," poem, by Caroline A. Hatden.
" Queen Luna," verses, by Charles L. Porter.
"Lines to the Pictx3ria!,"'by B. J. Howe.
" Lines to the Absent One," by C. U. Criswell.
" IVild Violets," lines, by W. S. Chase.
" To-morrow," verses, by J. K. Holmes.
" Sorrow," lines, by Oscar G. Hughan.
" Fain would I die at Sunset," by H'm. T. Hilsee.
" Lines to the Obelisk at Rome," by Mary N. Dearborn.
E. P. C, of Hingham, is informed that Lieut. Hurray's
etory of '' The Heart's Secret, or the Fortunes of a Sol-
dier/' will be published in boolt fonn, as soon as complet-
ed in these pages. It is the author's best story.
ILLTJSTEATIONS.
A fine picture of the Encampment of the First Regi-
ment of Massachusetts Light Infantry, at Newtonville,
Massachusetts, a perfect military engraving, by our artist,
Mr. Biiiings,
An admirable portrait of that famous Frenchman,
Victor Hugo, not long since banished from Paris, and who
has since returned by permission of the government.
An excellent engraving, representing the splendid Ball
given by the association of artists, painters, sculptors,
musicians, etc., at Paris,
A picture by our artist, Mr. Ckapin, illustrating the
late fearful catastrophe of the destruction of the steamer
Henry Clay, on the Hudson river, whereby so many lives
were sacrificed.
An interesting picture, representing a wild piece of
American scenery entitled. Crossing the Sierra Nevada,
Bhomng one of the perilous routes to El Dorado.
A series of views in Quincy, Mass., all by our artist, Mr.
Mallori/, representing, first, the Birthplace of John
Quincy Adams ; second, the Adams Mansion House ;
third, the fine Stone Church presented by the Hon. John
Q. Adams to the town of Quincy ; fourth, the Tomb of
the e.'C- President in the town burial ground, and fifth, a
view representing the Granite Quarries of the town of
Quincy.
We shall also give an original view of an Indian En-
campment, as was seen in the far west.
A picture of the Indians as they appear in one of their
grotesq^ue war dances.
An engraving, representing the well known and histori-
cal scene of the rescue of Capt. Smith by Pocahontas.
A fine and accurate Hkeness will be presented of Mr.
Gilbert Nourse, the new Chief of Police for the city of
Boston.
AMERICAN CRYSTAIi PALACE.
The Association for the Exhibition of the In-
dustry of all Nations announce that the exhibi-
tion -will be opened in New York on the 2d of
May, 1853 — exactly two years after the opening
of the great London exhibition. Mr. Charles
Buschek, late commissioner of the Austrian
empire at the Industrial Exliibition of Lon-
don, has been appointed agent for all countries
other than the continent of America.
SPIINTEES.
Charlotte Grisi is in Paris, where she
creates the greatest furore.
.... Tlxe value of property in Broadway, N.
Y., exceeds that of any other street in the world.
It is thought that Count D'Orsay, the
universal genius, is now dying.
.... Cra\vford, when last heard from, was at
Munich, professionally engaged.
Gertrude is a Teutonic word, signifying
true to her trust. A beautiful name.
Ellinor Howard poisoned herself for some
unfortunate cause, in Baltimore.
Mr. Davenport, the American tragedian,
is playing his farewell engagement in England.
W. P. Gibbs committed suicide in Lex-
ington, Mass. He had been quite sick.
The old Tremont House, Boston, is once
more re-opened in grand style.
A fine English opera troupe is to be or-
ganized in New York city forthwith.
There has been a very destructive fire at
Honolulu, Sandwich Islands.
We liope the captain and officers of the
steamer Henry Clay mil be made examples of.
Sir E. Bulwer Lytton has become a pub-
lic lecturer before Mechanics' Institutes.
Mrs. Mowatt has returned to Boston for
a short period, previous to her Southern tour.
James Wallack, the Wallack, has leased
Brougham's Lyceum in New York.
SPAIN AND CUBA-
As if, "whom the gods would destroy, they
first make mad," it would seem as though the
home government of Spain, in the action of
their tyranny and unrclaxcd oppression as exer-
cised upon the inhabitants of this island, were
determined to drive the inhabitants to despera-
tion. But, because tlie Creoles have borne so
much, it is no reason why they should never
turn to bay, and tlie Spanish government will
find, ere leng, that conciliatory measures will
come too late. This subject lias received a fresh
impetus, a revived interest, by Mr. Thrasher's re-
turn to this country from confinement in a Spa-
nish prison. He has been telling the citizens of
New Orleans some wholesome truths, and the au-
thorities will find that it would have been far
more for their interests to have kept Mr. Thrash-
er peaceably among themselves, than to seize
and confiscate his property, and banish him from
Cuba. The trouble is, he tells tales out of
school ; and the black-hearted tp-anny of Spain
over the Cubans needs only to be known to raise
up a whirlwind of rebellion in every honest heart.
The political condition of Cuba is precisely
what might be expected of a Castilian colony,
presenting a most remarkable instance of the
stand-still policy that has so long
verned the
European monarchies. From having been, three
centuries ago, the most wealthy and one of the
most powerful kingdoms, Spain has lost nearly
all her American possessions, and sunk into a
condition of almost hopeless bankruptcy. Other
nations have labored and succeeded in the race
of progress ; while her adherence to ancient in-
stitutions, and her dignified scorn of modern
*' innovations," amount almost, in fact, to a spe-
cies of retrogression, which has placed her far
below all of her sister governments in Europe.
Even Cuba has outstripped the parent land in
enterprise ; and while railroads are counted in
Spain by tens of miles, in Cuba they are already
counted by hundreds.
The present condition of Spain is a striking
illustration of the mutalnlity of fortune, from
which states, no more than individuals, are ex-
empted. We read of sucli changes in the desti-
nies of ancient empires ; the decadence of Egypt,
the fall of Ass}Tia, and Babylon, and Byzanti-
um, and Eome ; but their glory and their fall
were both so far distant in the recess of time that
their history seems, to all of us who have not
travelled and inspected the monuments which
attest the truth of these events, a sort of romance;
whereas, in the case of Spain, we realize its greats
ness and behold its fall !
As to Cuba, she must and will be free; and
when it is accomplished, people wiU wonder that
it has been so easily done, and wonder the more
that it lias not been earlier freed from Spain.
Let our readers be surprised at nothing which
they hear, for even now the tocsin is sounded.
THE LONE STAR:
— OR —
THE TEXAN BRAVO.
A TALE OF THE SOUTHWEST.
BT DR. J. H. ROBINSON".
Tliis is the title of a capital story just com-
pleted in the Elag of our Union, and now issued
in book form. It is one of Dr. J. H, Robinson's
best stories, and its locality and associations are
of tlie most truthful and interesting character, as
they relate to tlie pioneers and early history of
the country of the Lone Star. The author has
chosen his subject with excellent taste, and the
tale from the beginning to the end is replete with
interest.
EXCURSION.
The large and excellent Sabbath School, says
the Boston Post, connected with the Second
Universalist Society, of which T. A. Goddard,
Esq., is the superintendent, made its annual pic-
nic excursion to Stony Brook recently. The
exercises were unusually pleasing, and the com-
pany numbered about a thousand. The queen
of the holiday was crowned with all the honors,
addresses were made, and there was the usual
accompaniment of music and songs. Quite a
number of children were dedicated by the pastor.
Rev. Mr. Miner. It was a delightful picnic.
Personal. — We heard a good word from our
friends of the Casco Engine Company, Portland,
a few days since. May their shadows never be
less.
Saratoga. — Saratoga is respectable, but not
very gay, so far, this season.
THE PICTORIAIi.
We have already issued with the present pa-
per seven numbers of the third volume. The
obseiwant reader will discover in each succeed-
ing issue fresh improvements and renewed exer-
tions, on the part of the publisher, to merit the
unprecedented popularity it enjoys. No paper,
as far as the history of newspapers and literary
journals is known, ever reached to so large a
circulation as we now print, in so short a space
of time. It is considerably less than two years
since the paper was started, and our regular issue
is nearly Jifty thousand copies, a fact that we shall
be gratified to prove to any inquiring person,
either in the publishing business or otherwise.
This will show our readers that the paper is ap-
preciated ; and if it had not real value and excel-
lence in it, this patronage would not be so freely
extended — indeed, it would not be extended at all.
No one, save practical printers and publishers,
can know how great is the expense of getting up
such a paper weekly. It is necessary to take into
consideration, first the superior quality of the pa-
per, next the expense of designs, then the heavy
cost of engravings, and electrotj'ping, and the
liberal prices paid for original matter for the
columns of the paper. The best pens in the
counti'y are busy for our journals, and as to the
amount of original matter to be found in oui*
columns, the readers can judge for themselves.
We refer to these matters now and then, that the
army of readers and subscribers of the paper may
fully understand its character, and the estimation
in which it is held by the mass of the people.
THE ARMORER OF TYRE:
—OR — •
THE ORACLE AND ITS PRIEST.
AN EASTERN EOMANCE.
ET STLVANDS COBB, JR.
In this week's number of the Flag of our
Union we commence a story of which the above
is the title ; one of the best stories Mr. Cobb has
ever produced for us, which leads the reader,
page by page, and chapter by chapter, without
once breaking the charm of interest, to the very
close. We can promise our readers a good treat
in its perusal. Thus we continue our series of
original and deeply captivating stories for this
paper, as we promised at the commencement of
the volume, having always in view the purpose
of fui-nishing the most interesting, original mat-
ter, which must also bear the test of the strictest
moral criticism.
UNITED STATES HOTEL, PORTLAND.
A friend writes us in glowing terms of the ex-
cellence of this house, and the interesting points
to which it is immediately contiguous. He refers
to a drive over to Cape Elizabeth, and a visit to
the Cottage, Ocean House, etc., and eulogizes
the fine air of this region, complimenting the
well-known and gentlemanly landlord of the
United States Hotel, Mr. Woodward, and his
popular assistants. Mi*. Varney and Mr. Pingrce.
We have partaken of the hospitalities of this
house, and heartily endorse all our coirespondcnt
says of it. People visiting Portland should stop
at the United States Hotel.
Gleason's Pictorial. — Among all the productions of
our periodical and newspaper press, at this time so pro-
lific, there is nothing so beautiful or more eminently use-
ful than Gleason's Pictorial. It is a large octavo, pub-
lished weekly by F. Gleason, Boston. Each number con-
tains sixteen pages of highly interesting matter. Its
embellishments form its leading attraction, and these are
of a character to make it highly acceptable to American
people, illustrating as they do, subjects in which the
whole p^ople feel an interest. The number before us has
a beautifully engraved likeness of Frank Pierce, the dem-
ocratic c.indidate for the presidency. That of General
Scott is in the number of July 10th. It has given the
likenesses of Jenny Lind, Mr. Earnum. Kossuth, and in
fine, of every person prominently before the public in
anv capacity. These embclhshments are in the highf-st
style of art, and have for their subject eome matter that is
occupying the public attention. For a present to a lady it
is decidedly the handsomest thing in a literary way we
have ever seen. — Howard County Banner^ Glasgow, Mo.
Cuba. — There seems to be quite a prospect of
another outbreak in Cuba. A revolutionary pa-
per has been issued. The government offer a
reward of twenty thousand dollars for tlie dis-
covery and arrest of those who printed it.
Naval. — The famous frigate " Macedonian "
has been cut down and rebuilt at the Brooklyn
navy-yard, as a corvette, and is to be named
"Raleigh."
A Warning. — Mrs. John Davis, of Holden,
died upon inhaling chlorofonai for the purpose of
having a tooth extracted.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Cilley, Mr. Thomas L. Holt to
Miss Phebe 5l. fliarble.
By Rev. Mr. Kirk, Mr. Chipman Hinkley to Mrs. Ma-
ry Ann Henderson.
' By Rev. Mr. Dexter, Mr. John B. Clarke, of Manches-
ter, N. II., to Miss Susan G. Moulton.
By Rev. Mr. Skinner, Mr. Nathaniel H. Moore, of Cam-
bridge, to Miss Susan E. Spencer.
By Rev. Dr. Frothingham, Mr. John Dudley Sargent, of
Machias, Me., to Miss Mary Dana Haywood.
At Charlcstown, Mr. Jeremiah Preble to Miss Betsey M.
Freeman.
At Cam bridge port, by Rev. Mr. Steams, Mr. Henry N.
Farwell, of Boston, to Miss Clara Richardson.
At Medford, by Rev. Mr. Fuller. Mr. Charles Geddes to
Miss Sarah Thompson.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Fisher, Mr. George "W. Kenney
to Miss Sarah A. Mace, of North Hampton, N. H.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Lane, Mr. Samuel Crcaaey
to Miss Caroline J. Brown, of Meredith, N. II.
At Essex, by Rev. Mr. Prince, Mr. Ephmim H. An-
drews to Miss Patience Andrews, of Moscow, Me.
At Taunton, by Rev. Mr. Emery, Mr. John G. Hewina
to Mi.ss Sarah B. Lincoln.
At Providence, R. I., by Rev Mr. Waterman, Mr. Alon-
zo Lewis, of Lynn, to Miss Mary Gibson, of Boston.
At New Haven, Conn., Mr, William H. Sanborn, of
Springfield, to Miss .lulia A. Ruggles, of Boston.
At Barnstead, N. H., Mr. Oliver G. Caswell, of North-
wood, N. H., to Miss Wealthy B. Clark.
At New York, Robert Nesbitt, Esq., to Miss Mary
Bourne.
More Light. — Lynn is to he lit by gas.
In this city, Mr. William H. Whitmarsh, 40 ; Mr. John
Rand, 70 : Mr. Edmund Murphy, 68 ; Mrs. Caroline C.
Russell, 33 ; Miss Lucv Joyce, 81 ; Mrs. Susan Loomis,
58 ; Mrs. Charlotte Ellis", 46 ; Mrs. Susan HiU, 67 ; Mr. Caleb
S. Pratt, 47.
At Somerville, Miss Martha A. Russell, 20.
At Maiden, Li7,zie H., daughter of Daniel P. and Har-
riet D. Weeks, 3.
At Danvers, Mrs. Caroline W., wife of Mr. Mayhcw S-
Clai-k, 26.
At Lexington, Mr. William P. Gibbs, 39.
At Waltham, Mr Edward Carroll, 20.
At Dedham, Mr. Edward E. Titcomb, 49.
At Newbury, James E. Stickney, 22.
At Lynn, Mr. John Gibbens, 35 ; Mr. James Farmer, 47.
At Salem, Mr. John Griffin, 54.
At Marblehcad, Mrs. Sarah Harris, 72.
At Grantville, Mr. Willard Sears, senior, 93.
At West Brookfield, Mrs. Mary Smith, 96.
At Concord, Mass., Mrs. Mary Jones, 74.
At Ware, Deacon Joseph Metcalf.
At ffilUamsburg, Mr. Solomon Strong, 87.
At Newport, R. I., Mrs. Hannah Dennis, 84.
At Kenncbunk, Me-, Mr. Nathaniel Rankin, 25.
At Hartford, Conn., Mr. Sedgivick M. Hull, 24.
At Mansfield, Conn., Mrs. Mary E. Henry, 21.
At Springfield, Vt.. Mr. Heniion L. Snell, 23.
At New York, Miss E. J. Hildreth, 35.
At Newark, N. J., Prof. James S.Cannon, of Rutgers
College, New Brunswick, N. J.
At New Orleans, Mr. Enoch Noyeg, 37.
A mmismn} mmmmna
LITERAEY "WEEKLY JOUKNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A. Record of the heautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
talcs, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Hach paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numeroTis acciurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with tine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of boautifal scenery, taken from life, will also ba
pven, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the Eca. It ig
printed on fine satin-surface p.ipcr, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contaios fifteen hundred and si.\ty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its idm in constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it ailbrds, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
bombined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANN^IJM.
INVAEI.iBLT IN ADVANCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[C?" One copy of the J^'lag of our Cnion, and one copy
of the Pictorial DR-iwiKc-ltooM Companion, one year,
for So 00.
ttlT^ The Pictorial Drawing-Room Costpanton may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tha
country, aud of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
Published every Saturday, bv
F. GLEASON, Boston, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTSa
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A. WINCH, lie Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & Co., Ill Ealtunore St., Baltimore.
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[n?- Subscriptions received at either of the above places
110
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DP.AAVING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for OluaHou'H I'ictoriul.]
MUSINGS.
BY n. nARDY, JK.
Night-fiiU Bhadows now tiro mtoiiling
Gently o'or tho RDiiHnB yalo ;
On tho night winds, pcrfumo-ladon,
Poura hor Konp;, tlio nightingale.
Back, fur back, iiguin I wander,
Whuro tlio crystal brooklets flow,
Where I Bported free from son'ow,
In tlio days of long ago.
But I find a change is written
Evorywhore my oyo doth roet,
Poroatg wild, hills, vales, and mountains,
Show it legibly imprest.
And strangers tread the gi-avelled walks,
■\Vhich I know in days of yore ;
Strangers, too, are now seen Btunding
In tho low-roofod cottage door.
In tho cliurchyard calmly sleeping.
Beneath the shadows of tho yew,
Free from all of earthly sorrow,
Arc the friends which once I knew.
Rest, yo loTod ones, sweet your slumber,
May kind angela guard your rest ;
"When from earth shall wing my spirit.
May wo meet in regions blest.
0, the paet, the unretuxning !
There is magic In the word ;
And our minds, ■whene'er 'tis spoken,
"With emotions deep are stirred.
On memory's tablet are engraven.
Moments which will ne'er depart ;
And they will, as time wings onward,
Shed a joy throughout the heart.
^ ^•^ >
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BUYING A LIVE ELEPHANT.
A Funny Tale, with a wholesome Moral.
ET THE yOUNO 'tIN.
There are a great many people in this world
whose experience costs them a very high price;
but, nevertheless, there are certain items in a
man's actual experience in life, that
" though they be dearly bought.
Prove worth — an hundred times, and more —
The price of purchase."
I have an instance of this kind now " in my
mind's eye," and I will relate it for the amuse-
ment and benefit of all who may, by any chance,
be similarly circumstanced ; and who may read
this account of the adventui'e of the renowned
Mr. Dimps.
Mr. Dimps hailed from Hamilton County,
New York State, originally where he resided for
a great many years, and where he occasionally
met with the city " boys " who visited that region
every spring, to fill their creels with trout. They
told him big stories about the city of Gotham ;
they wore big watch-chains ; drove good horses ;
swore big oaths, and Dimps finally believed that
he was not born in the woods to remain there.
And, accordingly, he went down to New York
city to live.
Dimps had " been round " all his life ; at least
he believed he had ; and he would like to see the
countenance of the man that could teach him
much. Dimps kept his eyes open tight {to use
his own expression), and he contrived to get
along bravely in his new home. He obtained a
situation, and for two years he was not very par-
ticularly " sold " by his associates oftener than
once or twice in a month. Dimps was a sharp
'un, and he knew it.
He took up a penny paper one evening, and
read an advertisement in its columns as follows :
" One MOiiE LEFT ! ! — The last chance for a
Ticket in the I^ffiefor a Live Elephant (to come
off to-morrow night, at Byi*nes'), maybe secured
on application at the bar of the ' Silver Mug,*
immediately. Price $20."
Here was a chance for Dimps. He had always
been " lucky." Only twenty dollars, too, for the
opportunity. Last chance — immediately — Silver
Mug — to-morrow night! Mr. Dimps went
straight to the ale-house described, found that he
had arrived just in the nick of time (though, by
the way, some twenty ticltcts were sold to others,
subsequently, during the evening), and he in-
vested his money with a perfect looseness in this
raffle.
Dimps was very uneasy during the succeeding
day, for he saw a small fortune in prospect for
him, if he chanced to win. And why should not
he win % He felt sure that he should. And so
when evening came, he was the first man upon
the ground at Byrnes'.
The crowd got together at last, and after a
good deal pf hustling, and betting, and punch-
ing, the dice were produced. Now Dimps had
never thrown a die in liis life, but ho did not
want anybody to talk to him ; lie knew what ho
was about; Dimps was "bound to win.'*
Tiio several ticket-purchaser.s, the owners of
tho property, and others interested, tlirew tlieJr
chances and retired. Dimps came up towards
t!ie last, and threw in tho " little jokers," when
it was discovered by our friend tliat "spots
count." He threw forty-two. He was offered
twenty, fifty, an luindrcd dollars, for his chance;
but Dimps knew what he was about ; he would
not sell. Suddenly a rival pitched tho ivories
in, and counted forty-two ! Dimps was not a
little nettled.
However, forty-two was the highest number
thrown, and Dimps and liis rival agreed to
" throw it off" between them, the highest to win.
Dimps threw thirty-eight. His rival threw only
twenty-six, and Dimps was forthwith declared
the winner of the elephant in the most uproar-
ious manner possible.
As is in such cases made and provided, the
winner was immediately subjected to scores of
congratulations, and to numerous other scores,
which the novice in raffling does not usually an-
ticipate. A magnificent " treat " followed, and
the " expenses " of the affair — amounting to
forty-three dollars — was duly presented to Dimps
by the attentive landlord. This account, with
the price of the ticket, amounted to over three-
and-sixty dollars. But, what of that? Dimps
had won a live elephant !
After the dnnking, and smoking, and lunch,
was concluded, Dimps paid the bill ; and the
landlord then suggested that he would "feel
hobleeged to the gen'lemun as 'ad vun the hele-
phant, cf he vould take 'im avay, as soon as
vould be convenient, as he vanted 'is 'room.'"
Now Dimps had thought of everything else
connected with this transaction. He had calcu-
lated how big a pile of money he could sell him
for; what a heap he could make by exhibiting
him ; what a reputation he could command by
being sole proprietor of such a monster, and all
that sort of thing ; but he had not made any par-
ticular arrangements — in case he should be so
lucky as to win him — to take him away from his
quarters at the " Silver Mug."
This was a matter of very considerable im-
portance, however, — it seemed, at least, to Mr.
Byrnes, and he pressed his proposition with re-
markable assiduity.
" I vish you vould git 'im avay at vonce, Mr.
Dimps," said the proprietor of the Silver Mug,
as he pocketed his forty-three dollars and a 'aff.
" I vouldn't hurge you, but 'ee's bin 'ere now a
'ole veek, an' 'ee's a'most heat us out uv 'ouse
and 'ome !"
" Eat ?" said Dimps, abstractedly.
" Lord bless you, yes ! 'Ee's a dreadful heat-
er. Vel, I couldn't percisely say for sartin, but
I think 'ee's beaten the vally of ten shill'n's
worth a-day, in that time."
" Ten shillings a-day V
" Yes, sir."
"Exactly," said Dimps. " I will take him —
that is, remove him — provide for him in the
morning."
" 'Adn't you better git him out to-night, sir 1"
persisted the anxious Mr. Byrnes.
" No, no," responded Dimps, not a little fidget-
ted. " No, not to-night — to-morrow."
The landlord smiled. Dimps took his hat and
his cane, and left the " Silver Mug " for his
bachelor lodgings, up town.
When Mr. Dimps began to reflect upon his
zoological acquisition, he at the same time began
to believe that perhaps he would not be able to
make such a pile of money out of this specula-
tion, as at first he had looked for, after all. He
had invested sixty-three dollars and a 'aft' in it,
however, and he must do something in the pre-
mises at once. He tossed about till daylight,
without a wink of sleep, and arose to fresh
troubles.
The elephant was secured in the yard, back of
the " Silver Mug," and Dimps repaired thither
to take possession of his prize. Here was a bill
of nine dollars for liis keeping, three dollars for
attendance, and ten dollars for doctoring,
" Doctor!" exclaimed Dimps.
" O 'es, sir," said the polite host of the Silver
Mug. " The Iiclephant is sick, you know."
" Indeed ! I didn't know it," responded Dimps,
chagrined.
" Vy, Lord bless you !" continued his Enghsh
host, " you don't s'pose fer vun minnit that the
hanimal vould ha' been rallied off at on'y twenty
dollars a lick, an' on'y twenty chances, ef he'd
a bin veil, do you V
" I sha'n't take him," said Dimps, " I
sha'n't — "
" Vot — the hclcplianf?"
"No, I sha'n't."
"Yes, you viU,"
"No, I slia'n't, I shall pay no more bills,
and I'll leave him on your hands."
" No, you vont. If you try tliat 'ere game,
my fine feller, I'll jist sell the helephantfor your
account at pul)lic ivandcuj."
Dimps thougiit it l)cst to reti-act. And so he
paid the extra twenty-two dollars, and promised
to remove his property forthwith.
Tlierc was a circus in town, and Dimps called
at the Astor House to sell his ncwly-acquircd
property to the manager of that establishment.
But he did not want to buy. He had four — all
he could feed. He would take Mr. Dimps's ad-
dress, and in case one of his animals should die
at any time (of which there was but little proba-
bility, by the way, for elephants lived till they
were two hundred years old, and all of his were
under forty !) he would then hunthim up.
He went to the museum, but they did not pur-
chase live elephants; if Mr. Dimps had any
stuffed ones, they would call and examine his
specimens. Poor Dimps began to think he
" smelt a mice !"
He prowled about the city; gave up all
thoughts of other business, but sought in vain for
a purchaser for his elephant. He did not return
to the Silver Mug, and next morning he received
a formal notice from the landlord of that delecta-
ble establishment, to the efi'ect that the animal
must be immediately removed.
Dimps could find no one that would receive
his ponderous brute. He could not turn him
into the street, for the city authorities would be
after him, instanter, for trespass and as the own-
er of a nuisance. His " prize" was really sick,
and the " doctor" would not call without his fee
in advance, because the owner of the Silver Mug
t/is-owned the unwieldly " hanimal." What was
to be done "?
He hit upon it at last. He would have him
killed and stuffed. His carcase, in that shape,
the museum folks would buy. This was a lucky
hit, indeed, under the circumstances ; and Dimps
again applied to them for further information.
He found he could get a hundred dollars for
him if he were dead ; but the butcher's and tax-
idermist's bills would be near^two hundred, to
say nothing of disposing of the carcase. Dimps
resolved to leave for California at once. He
could bear his " luck " no longer.
He met a friend who had been there and re-
turned. He hinted to him his purpose, and
asked about the best route.
" Nicaragua," said his friend.
" Isthmus," said Dimps.
" Never," continued his friend, " unless you
want to see the elephant, sure,"
"The what?"
" The elephant, tusks and all, Dimps 1"
Now Dimps had seen the elephant, and the
elephant was just what he wanted to run away
from, though his friend knew nothing about his
trouble. While he was getting ready to depart,
he received a note from the proprietor of the
Silver Mug, informing him that his pet was
dead.
Ah ! what joyful news was this to poor Dimps.
He lost no time in repairing to the late lodgings
of his prize, and forthwith he contracted with a
couple of draymen to remove and have him de-
cently interred. This job cost him an outlay of
nearly twenty dollars more, but he paid it cheer-
fully ; and though his experience with -that de-
scription of live stock cost him about a hundred
dollars in all, he declares that it was as " cheap
as a broom," all things considered.
Dimps never hears the boys talk about " see-
ing the elephant," without remarking that he
"has been there." While the newspaper an-
nouncement of the presentation of a silver pitcher
to any one, or a rafile advertisement, always re-
calls vividly to his mind the scene he encounter-
ed at the Silver Mug, and at which he purchased
a lesson that will last him for the remainder of
his life.
A MISTAKE.
It is an error to consider blunt, plain-speaking
folks as the most single-hearted and honest.
They get the credit of having first-rate con-
sciences. So they have. The running machinery
is complete, but somehow the spring and balance-
wheel are wrong, and the mechanism almost
always goes in the strain-at-a-gnat-and-swallow-
a^camel style. It is our rule to trust civil men
rather than clownish, other things being equal.
[Written for Gleriflon's Pictorial.]
IN TilK SHADE.
BY OEORaB CANNING Iltlh.
Tho vhiofl are Kwuying in the wood,
The houghs swing to and fro,
And o'er the mead, for many a rood,
Tho wanton wind-yusttj hlow.
Tho threads of gold stream through tho leavcB,
And fall on grafls and flower,
And over uH the sunlight weaves
A gold and azure bower.
Soft whifipcFfi Hwcetly como to mc,
Within this welcome shade,—
From every leaf on cTcry tree,
And every tender blade.
Up tlirough the leafy roof are eyes
That look into my own,
And seem to gaze from out the skies, —
And then, like hopus, are flown.
Upon the golden bars, I climb
In fancy to the realms,
Who.so glorious light, whose golden rhyme,
My spirit overwhelms.
i —.^ »
LOVE OF FLOWERS.
In Miss Mitford's very entertaining Literary
Recollections, she describes an interview with Mr,
Webster in her little garden, then tilled with
roses, pinks and splendid geraniums ; and speak-
ing of the indigenous plants of England and
America, she expressed a great deshe to see the
scarlet lily of New York and the fringed gentian
of Niagara, known only to her by Miss Marti-
neau's description. Soon after Mr. Webster's
arrival in America, Miss Mitford received a
package of the seeds of eacii, directed by Mr.
Webster's own hand. What more beautiful gift
than this, from the cultivated vales of New York
and the roaring torrent of Niagara, to the castled
homes and ivy-clad towers of Old England,
could be found? No wonder that Miss Mitford,
passing half her life among the flowers, should
be so truthful a delineator of nature.
Happy, then, is the person who is early
taught a love of flowers. Earth may grow weary
to him, life may lose its charms, but he will ever
derive consolation from the thousand sources of
nature. He may go forth, despairing and dis-
gusted with the deceptive charms of the world ;
but when he is alone in the mossy woods, with
the flowers all around, and their odor rising in
the hushed air, he finds that there is beauty still
left in existence, flis spirit roves from the
beautiful flowers to their Maker and Preserver,
and to the blessed coming time when he shall
wander as a white-robed angel whei'e the roses
of Paradise are blossoming along the Kiver of
Life. — Museum.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AT EVENING.
BY WnilAM EDWARD KIS'OWIES.
The shadows of the coming night fall round,
WTiere shone before the splendor of the day ;
And hushed in drowsy quiet is the sound
Of many feet, that trod the crowded way.
The lengthened shadows of the lofty ehna.
While stretching from the upland to the vale.
Seem hut as lessons sent from upper realms,
For us to read, when wealth and glory fail.
A lonely bird, from the wayside thorn.
Now shining with the pearls of evening's shower,
Wafts to the listening ear her mournful song,^
Adapted well to suit the solemn hour.
And darkness, from its distant mountain home.
Comes down and sways its sceptre o'er the light ;
While dusky shadows, mid the gorgeous gloom,
Link now the evening to the car of night.
\ ^■q> >
KNOWLEDGE.
In some of the States of Germany, there is a
system pursued, which is attended by veiy bene-
ficial results in diffusing knowledge among the
common people. The law does not allow a man
to be married, unless he can read, write, and cast
accounts ; and any one who employs a workman
that cannot read and write, is liable to a heavy
penalty. At the same time, provision is made
for public schools, to be paid in part by govern-
ment.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
MYRRHA.
BY EDWAED J. nANDIBOE.
"Weep on!" a sage exclaimed, seeing Myrrha's grief ;
" Tears are the best of comforters ; and impart
A meet restorative to the o'er wi*ought heart !
For, being made from tho Lemnus, fabled chief
Of fate's dark river, in them is rcHef,
Causing romemhrance of love's dream to depart."
" Can they indeed do this ?" and all alarmed,
T\TiiIo dimmer grew her eye, the young Greek maiden
Sought tears to banish ; yet her cheeks wore laden
With grief-horn love-gems: then, with her high soul
warmed
By hope, she heavenward looked ; till, whilo charmed
By sorrow's angul, life sought lovo in Aiden.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Ill
BAIiZAC'S LOVE-LETTERS.
Balzac — as wc learn from the Literary Gazette
— when at the height of his fame, got into a very
sentimental con-espondence with a married lady.
After his death his letters fell into the husband's
hands. But instead of, like another Otlicllo,
smothering the fair one, or doing something else
equally terrible, this gentleman coolly placed the
letters in his pocket, trudged off to the editor of
a literary periodical, and bargained to sell him
them for the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds.
The editor, a few months ago,- advertised them
for publication, under the title of " Balzac's Let-
ters to Louise," and with an intimation that they
were " private and confidential." As anything
from the great novelist's pen possesses much lite-
raiy value, and as a batch of real love-letters,
never intended for publication, or for the eye of
any one except the fair recipient, promised to be
extraordinarily interesting, the announced publi-
cation created a very profound sensation. Ma-
dame Balzac, however, the widow of the author,
fearing that her husband's memory would be
damaged by a publication which she very justly
considered scandalous, applied to the Civil Tri-
bunal to prohibit it. The editor of the penodi-
cal pleaded that, having fairly bought the letters,
he was entitled to turn them to account, as if
they were any ordinary manuscript ; but the tri-
bunal decided that the publication would be im-
moral, and peremptorily forbade it. It, however,
authorized the editor to claim back his one hun-
dred and twenty pounds, on returning the epis-
tles to the " injured husband."
FRENCH PLUNDERERS.
A French correspondent of Lloyd's Weekly
says: "Louis Napoleon, his relations and ad-
herents, are pillaging the coffers of the state at a
fine rate. Louis Napoleon himself has bought,
among other estates, the Chateau de Marne for
1,065,000 francs. It belonged formerly to the
Duchess D'Angouleme. Lucien Murat, as poor
as a rat, when he came to France in 1848, has
purchased a splendid estate near Bongival. The
widow of Achille Murat has come over from
America, aud received a large pension. All the
audacious satellites and friends of the usurper
show signs of having joined in the pillage. The
200,000,000 francs of the Orleans family will
soon disappear. Like the horse-leech's daughter,
they cry ever for more — more ! Traitors are
insatiable."
SCENE AT NIAG.VRA.
The visitors at Niagara were terribly excited
on the morning of the 19th ult., by the spectacle
of a man in a boat, lodged on a rock between
Goat Island and the Canadian shore, directly
above the Falls. He was a fisherman, named
Johnson. Notwithstanding the imminent risk,
a man named Joel Robinson, at the peril of his
life, went to his relief in a small skiff, taking a
rope from the island, and succeeded in rescuing
him from the boat. About five minutes after
Johnson was taken from the boat, it loosened
from the rock and went over the Falls. He had
been in that situation since 12 o'clock the night
previous, and was intoxicated. A purse of $200
was made up by the visitors for Robinson.
Ancient. — Colita, the oldest Indian chief in
Texas, died lately at Cashatta vUlage, on the
Trinity River. Thirty years ago, when the colo-
nists, who accompanied Austin, settled in the
country, Colita was reputed to be the oldest liv-
ing Indian ; it is supposed he was about one
hundred and twenty years of age.
BouxTiFUL. — Miss Lewis, a lady of London,
has given twenty-four thousand dollars towards
the establishment of infant schools in one of the
most destitute districts of that city. This liberal
gift, together with others, will provide school
accommodation for seven hundred and fifty
pupils.
Mexico. — There is great difficulty growing
up, it seems, between us and Mexico, in relation
to what is the true line of boundary between
New Mexico and Chihuahua.
Be cautious. — Alittle daughter of W. Lewis,
at Defiance, Ohio, was poisoned to death, lately,
by eating candy which had been colored by some
poisonous substance.
Nav.\ l. — U. S. sloop-of-war Cyane is to be
placed in the dry dock at Norfolk, as soon as the
frigate Potomac is taken out.
toausiiifi ©atljcrings.
Judge Lansing died in Lansingbm-g, N. T., on
the 10th ult., aged 61 years.
A machine for setting up ten-pins has been in-
vented and patented.
The precise latitude of Columbus, Ohio, is 39
degrees, 57 minutes.
An iron monument to the memory of Henry
Clay is to be erected in Fottsville.
The young men of Cincinnati have sent a
beautiful address to Mrs. Clay, condoling with
her on the death of Mr. Clay.
Mi-s. Clay is now 71 years of age, and although
her health is feeble, has the appeai'anee of a lady
of 50.
The wheat harvest is over, the Bridgeton
(New Jersey) paper says, and large crops have
been gathered.
Madame Sontag has determined to make a
voyage to this counti-y, for professional purposes,
in the coming autumn.
Our fair and delicate friends are, perhaps, not
aware that the cheaper kind of " French kid "
are, in reality, rat-skin gloves !
The New York Chief of Police has been order-
ed to advertise aljgptolen property recovered by
them, as often as once a week.
George Collins, an emment merchant of St.
Louis, died on the 18th ult. He was worth over
a million dollars.
Gen. Greenleaf White, adjutant-general of tlie
State of Maine, died suddenly at Portland, on
Saturday, the 24th ult.
According to the census of 1850, there were
21,571,306 sheep in the United States, and
52,417,287 pounds of wool.
The "U'hcat crop in Indiana, and In the West
generally, is said to be very heavy, and free from
all blight and rust.
About Memphis, Tenn., there is a great mor-
tality among the cattle. Some of the planters
have lost nearly all their stock.
Two hundred sheep, belonging to fanners in
the neighborhood of Tuckahoe, N. J., have been
killed by dogs within a few days.
Twelve persons are ascertained to have been
drown:d by the sinking of the propellor Oswego,
after the collision on Lake Erie, recently.
Mr. Kir!-- , of Butler county, Penn., walked from
the window o. a hotel, while asleep, and broke
one of his thv^ii bones.
The immigration at New York during the first
six months of the years named, was as follows ;
Year 1850, 99,900; 1851,151,263; 1852,162,583.
There are now employed in constructing the
North Carolina Railroad 1455 men, 403 boys,
360 carts, 50 wagons, 786 horses and mules, and
44 oxen.
The Hon. Abbott Lawrence has positively re-
signed his post as Minister to England, and Mr.
Crittenden will be appointed to succeed him, Mr.
Webster ha\'ing declined.
The furniture of Henry Clay, which was for-
merly used at Washington, passed through Pitts-
burgh, on Tuesday, the 20th ult., on its way to
Ashland, Kentucky.
Thornton, Mr. Clay's body servant, received
from the hands of his master his free papere,
but never left him, even after death, until the
corpse was placed in the tomb.
A man can take a European tour of six
months, and retura home again, for a thousand
dollars. Cheap enough — if you have the thou-
sand dollars.
R. T. Duncanson, a colored man of Cincinna-
ti, has painted a large subject from "Paradise
Lost," which is spoken of as a work of decided
genius.
The police of Washington have arrested a
number of colored thieves, and recovered about
$10,000 worth of property, of various kinds, re-
cently stolen from private dwellings.
Gen. Otho H. Williams, who died at Hagers-
town, Md., recently, was Clerk of Washington
Count)' Court for 45 yeai-s, and an intimate per-
sonal friend of Henry Clay.
The project of making a railroad in Broadway
is seriously entertained. It is proposed to use
the " groove rail," wltich will not obstruct the
" navigation of the street."
In the bury ing-g round in Palmer Centre, are
nine little graves side by side, where sleep all the
child ren of one family. The age of the oldest was
but one year. An instance of touching singularity.
The Rondout Courier learns that a bear came
down from the mountains one night, lately, and
canied oft' a live hog which weighed 150 pounds.
Tlie bear was tracked the next day, and a part
of the cai'case of the hog found.
A little boy, six or seven years old, says the
Canandaigua Messenger, who had been sent to
get a bottle filled with liquor, drank so much of
the poison on his way home as to cause his
death.
A few mornings since, a drove of sheep, be-
longing to John Shipe, of Easton, Penn., ran on
the track as a train was coming along, and the
engineer being unable to stoji the engine, the
whole train ran over them, killing twenty-seven
of the sheep.
The builders of the engines of the ill-fated
President have addressed a letter to the Liver-
pool authorities, stating that the description given
of the fragment of the steamship wreck, washed
up on the Scotch coast, does not correspond in
any particular with that of the President.
Jbnign fllisccllang.
A great exhibition for Dublin in 1853, has
been started.
The English papers announce the arrival of
Mrs. Forrest, with Miss Cushman and Mr.
Vaudenhoff.
Powell's great painting, '* The Discovery of
the Mississippi," intended for the rotunda of the
Capitol, is now nearly finished.
The lofty spire of Ross Church, Hertfordshire,
was dreadfully shattered by lightning on the 5th,
ultimo.
Marshal Haynau is on a visit to Paris, most
likely to his sympathizing friend Louis. " Par
Nobile Fratrum."
The clergymen aud deanery of Loughrea, Ire-
land, have resolved to disregard the royal pro-
clamation against public Catholic exhibitions.
The fund for the Amazon survivors, in Lon-
don, has reached the handsome sum of .£14,000,
about $70,000.
Mr. Lumley offers for sale the lease of Her
Majesty's Theatre. He is to take the manage-
ment of the Opera, at Paris.
Robert Itinnahan, a Protestant and moderate
conservative, famous for his " captivating L. L.
Whiskey," has been elected lord mayor of Dublin.
It costs 200 guineas for a monument site in
Poet's Coi'ner, Westminster Abbey, and which
the Campbell committee have not yet concluded
to pay.
A workman in a grinding and polishing mill,
at Mossley, Eng., recently had his neck hand-
kerchief caught in the machinery, and was in-
stantly strangled.
A grand bull-fight was held at Madrid, on
Sunday, the 4th ult., for the benefit of the poor.
The queen " came to town," purposely to be
present.
Sloane, the special pleader, sentenced to pri-
son for cruelty to his servant, Jane Wilbred, died
on the 6th ult., from the effects of confinement
and mental anxiety.
M. La Fond, a French savan, has employed
chloroform as a motive power. Singular ! The
article has hitherto been used to clieck the motive
power.
Lately, at Florence, Senor Madia! and Ma-
dame Rosa, bis wife, were convicted of abjuring,,
the Catholic faith for Protestanism, and sentenced
to hard labor in the galleys !
A French lette^-^\Tite^, in speaking of a new
play now running in Paris, says : " It continues
to be very popular, in spite of all the articles
^vritten in its favor by the owner of the copyright."
A statue of Charlemagne, who first founded
the post-oflice, in 807, is, it is said, about to be
placed in the principal comts of the post-office in
the Rue Jean Jaques Rousseau.
jJoker's JJuijsct.
JSanie of C!5olJr.
Profanity and politeness never associate
together.
Happiness is promised not to the learned,
but to the good.
The rose has its thorns, the diamond its
specks, and the best man his failings.
.... The most effectual way to secure happi-
ness to ourselves is to confer it upon others.
.... There are reproaches which give praise,
and praises which reproach.
.... Words of sympathy lift not up the
needy ; only full sacks csm stand on end.
Love is a weapon that will conquer men
when all other weapons fail.
If you would not have affliction visit you
twice, hsten at once to what it teaches.
.... Never scoff at religion ; it is not only
the proof of a "wicked heart, but low breeding.
.... As we go on in life we find we cannot
afford excitement, and we leara to be parsimoni-
ous in our emotions.
As the heart is crushed and lacerated by
a loss in the affections, so it is rather the head
that aches and suffers by the loss of money.
.... Abundance is a trouble, want a misery,
honor a burden, and advancement dangerous,
but competency is happiness.
.... Be not angry that you cannot make
othei"s as you wish them to be, since you cannot
make yourself what you wish to be.
.... It is not study alone timt produces a
writer — it is intensity ; in the mind, as in the
cliimney, to make the fire burn hot and quick,
you must naiTow the di-aught.
.... Nothing is more amiable than true mod-
esty, and nothing more contemptible than that
which is false ; the one guards virtue, the other
betrays it.
All men need truth as they need water ;
if wise men are on the high ground where the
springs rise, ordinary men are on the lower
grounds that then* waters nourish.
To think that an eternity of bliss depends
upon the purity of a few years of eartlily exis-
tence, is an overwhelming thought. How great
is the inducement to study truth, and cultivate
virtue !
.... One half of mankind pass their lives in
thinking how they shall get a dinner, and the
other in thinking what dinner they shall get ;
and tlie first are much less injured by occasional
fasts, tlian are the latter by constant feasts.
" I am monarch of all I sun'ey," as the mouse
said ven he got atop of the cheese.
Why is a railway train like a vision of the
night ■? Because it goes over the sleepers.
Why is a spendthrift's purse like a thunder
cloud ? Because it keeps continually light'ning.
Why is a solar eclipse like a woman whipping
her boy i Because it is a hiding of the sun.
At Newport there has been as much stiiTing
since the liqnor law has been in force as before.
" Nothing can be done well," said Dr. Elitch-
ener, "that is done in a hurry." — "Except
catching fleas," said a wag at our elbow.
There is a man up country who turns so pale
when he is friglitcned, that people can scrape the
whitewash from his face.
A soothsayer had a dog, which he 'cruelly
starved and beat. Now, suppose this dog could
speak, what would he most likely say 1 " 3Iore
prognostics " — or " More prog, no sticks."
An Irishman being asked, on a rainy day,
what he would take to carry a message from
Drummond's, at Charing Cross, to the Bank,
answered : " Faith, I'd take the threepenny 'bus."
The Dutch have a proverb that "when the
French are asleep the devil rocks the cradle."
They are quiet for the present, but what devil is
rocking the cradle future events must show.
Ladies who are fond of knitting when at sea,
need never be in want of materials for work, for
any sailor will be always I'eady to spin them a
yarn.
At a recent examination of ghls in Cheshire
for the rite of confirmation, in answer to the
question, " Wliich is the outward and visible
sign and form in baptism 1" The reply was :
" The baby, sir."
" Molly," said Joe Kelly's ghost to his wife,
"I'm in purgatory at this present," says he.
" And what sort of a place is it V says she.
" Faix," says he, " it is a sort of half way house
between you and heaven ; and I staud it mighty
aisy after laving you."
VOLTJMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL.
We have volmnes Ist and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room Companion <"legaiitly bound in cloth, mth gilt edges
and back, and illuuiioed sides, forming a superb and mest
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Htmdred Pages,
AND C 0 N T A
!NINQ NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over tlie -world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritune Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AJMD INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elett-es, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
Far sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, aud at all the Periodical Depots thi'Oughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UMOJ^,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND REriSED
Miscellaneous ramily Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, ivritten exp. issly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, "nd on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POE THE MILLION',
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CHICLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Fla Q is now the
leading weekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the- foreign and domestic news of the day,
EO condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of inteUigence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lackrog neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union,
TERMS TO SUBSCEIBEE3.
' 1 Bubscriber, one year, ©2 00
3 subscribers, " ... ."^ 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 " « r. . 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag op our Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Dka wing-Room Companion, one year, for SS'QO.
[^y^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act aa agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms,
OCr* All orders should be addressed, POST PAD), to the
Pdhlisher op the Flag op ocit Union.
*,• Tne Flag can be obtained at any of the newspaper
depots in the United States, and of newspaper carriers, at
Foua CENTS per sing!': copy.
F. GLEASON,
PCBLiaEEB AND PrOPRIETOBj BOSTON, MASS.
112
GLEASON'S riCTOPJAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF BOSTON RAVINE, GRASS VALLEY, CALIFORNIA.
BOSTOIV RAVINE.
"We present above a characteristic California
view, from an original and authentic drawing
taken for us on the spot. It is a sample of the
rough homes of thousands of our friends, who
have left comforts and happy firesides in New
England to seek gold in the valley of the Sacra-
mento. The artist has forgotten to sketch any
graves in the picture, but how many thousands
who have gone thither, buoyant with hope and
expectations, have done so only to find the
stranger's grave. Yet the tide of emigration
seems in no way abated. Gold still lures on the
seeker to early "death ! The small cabin on the
left was occupied by Messrs. J. & T. Cracklin,
joining which is the market and store of Hollis
& Baxter. The left hand building in the fore-
ground is the Eagle Tavern, kept by John West,
on the right of which is the log-cabin and ten-
pin alley of B. L. Lamarque & Co., all of which
are situated at the foot of Gold Hill, Boston
RaWne. The hill in the background is Isadore
Hill, named after a negro, who first discovered a
quartz vein on it.
THE OLBEST CHURCH IN THE U. STATES.
Tlie picture below is a view of the old meeting-
house in Hingham, the oldest cliurch in tlic United
States. It stands upon the place where it was
originally erected. It was built in the year 1681,
during the ministry of Rev. John Norton, the
second minister of Hingham, and successor of
Rev, Peter Hohart, who was pastor of the
church from IG-'i."* to 167i). Mr. Norton
WHS ordained collenguc-pastor Nov. 27th,
1G78, and died Oct. ."J, 171G, in the 38th
year of his ministry. The second pastor
who officiated In this house was the Rev.
ICl>cnczcr Gay, D. IX, who was ordained
June 11, 1718, and died on Sabbath morn-
ing, March 18, 1787. On that morning
he was as well as usual, and while prepar-
ing for the pulpit he became suddenly ill,
and died wilhin an hour. The length of
his ministi-y was sixty-eight years, nine
months and seven days, and including the
time during which he preached in this
house before his ordination, his ministry
falls short by a few months only of seventy
years. His successor was Rev. Henry
Ware, D. D. He wa.s ordained Oct. 24,
1787, and received a dismission from the
jiarish by his own request, upon his ap-
jjointment to the Hollis Professorship at
Cambridge. His valedictory discourse
was delivered May 5, 1805. Rev. Joseph
Richardson succeeded Dr. Ware. Mr.
Richardson was ordained July 2, 1806,
and his ministry has now extended beyond
forty-five years. He is the present pastor.
So it appears that from the first settle-
ment of the town to the present time, the
parish which worships in the old meeting-
house have had but five settled pastors.
The length of their ministrj' has been as
remarkable as the antiquity of the house
in which they officiated. Two additions
have been made to the building since its
first erection, the first about the year 1730,
and the second in 1755, when two ranges
of square pews were constructed next the
walls of the house, leaving the centre for
free seats, all of which have since been
removed, and the whole floor covered with
pews. The cider's and deacon's seats
have been taken away, but the ancient
sounding board remains. The additions
made to the house did not materially alter
its form. It is still in a good state of pres-
ervation, and its old oaken frame shows no
marks of dilapidation or decay. It is the
only remaining monument of the durable
architecture of the Pilgrim churches. The
olden structures of our fathers are fast dis-
appearing before the progress of modem
civilization, and giving place to edifices
more in accordance with modem taste and
convenience. Still it cannot but awaken
Some regret in the mind that looks upon the me-
mentoes of our pilgrim fathers with veneration,
to see the various tokens of their toil and sacri-
fice one after another obliterated by the spirit of
modern innovation, and yielding to the tooth of
time. But thus it must be ; and though the out-
ward record of the past may perish before the
onward progress of the age, the spirit that made
our ancestors what they were may still live, and
their virtues, brightened by time, be bequeathed
to remoter generations.
THE OLDEST MEETING-HOUSE IN THE UNITED STATES, AT HINGHAMj MASS.
F. GLEASON,
; CORNER BROMFIELD
; AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 21, 1852.
©2 PER VOLmiE.
10 Cts. single.
Vol. in. No. 8.— Whole No. 60.
INFANTRY ENCAItf PDIENT.
The First Regiment of Massachusetts Light
Infantry performed their annual camp duty in a
lot lying north of the railroad depot at Newton-
ville, at a distance from it sometliing less than a
quarter of a mile. The tents were pitched in the
proper form, and the encampment presented
quite a martial appearance. The troops num-
bered from four to five hundred, and the compa-
nies were not quite as full as usual. The
" Tigers " mustered fifty-one muskets — a larger
number than was reported by any other compa-
ny. The camp ground was well selected, and
under the direction of Colonel Holbrook com-
manding. The following is a list of the ofiiccrs
of the 1st Regiment, and the companies ^vith
their respective commands. Fidd and Staff
Officers — Colonel, Charles L. Holbrook ; Major,
J. A. Abbott; Adjutant, T. E. Chickering;
Quartermaster, J. R. Hall; Paymaster, C. T.
Curtis ; Sergeant-major, William B. Oliver ;
Quartermaster-sergeant, J. J. Hanvood ; Dinim-
major, James Gardiner; Band-master, John
Bartlett. The regiment comprises the following
companies : Light Dragoons, Capt. J. C. Gipson;
Company A, Boston Light Infantry, Capt. 0. D.
Ashley, fifty-one guns ; B, New England Guards
Capt. J. L. Henshaw, eighteen guns ; C, Pulaski
Guards, Capt. A. C. Wright, forty-five guns ; D
Boston Light Guards, Capt. George Clark, Jr.
twenty-five guns ; E, City Guards, Capt. J. H,
French, twenty-five guns; F, Independent Fusi-
leers, Capt. Wm. Mitchell, forty-four guns; G;
Washington Light Guards, Capt. S. Flagg.
thirty-four guns ; H, Winthrop Light Guards
Capt. W. Houston, nineteen guns ; L, National
Guards, Capt. J. L. Moore, eighteen guns
Mechanic Rifles, Capt. S. G. Adams, forty-one
guns. Throughout the entire period of the en-
campment, which lasted two days, we know of
no unpleasant circumstance, no serious accident,
Everything seemed to be well conducted, and
doubtless much practical good accomplished,
The troops were not distracted by any great out-
side displays during the encampment, and the
presumption is, that they have made an unusual
advancement in the art. The attendance of
spectators has been very small throughout, and
the citizens of the neighborhood cannot complain
of any disturbances, a trouble that has unfortu-
nately attended several of these encampments.
Our artist, Mr. Billings, has sketched the scene
at the time of review, and given us below a most
exact and excellent picture of the grounds and
the troops. The good effect of these regular
annual encampments, as it regards disciplining
the militia of the State, cannot be questioned ; it
brings the volunteers into regular service, as it
were, and teaches them those duties and practices
in which they should be perfected, in order to
render the organization of any real, iutrinsic
value. England used to deride our militia sys-
tem, and declare that it was of no value ; that the
raw material of the American service was raw
indeed, notwithstanding the severe experience
that her generals and soldiers had realized upon
this continent. Boasting of her standing army,
she looked with supreme contempt upon our sys-
tem of military discipline. But how is it now ?
What is the termination of all this derision 1
She has herself adopted the system she has so
much scorned in us ; has come over and learned
tactics from Uncle Sam, and the American mili-
tia law is now virtually in force in Great Britain.
The remarks of Thomas F. Meagher, the Iiish
patriot, lately given before the Irish regiment,
whom he reviewed in New York, are interesting
and truthful. He declared that, aside from the
fact that this law serves to place the country in a
state of efficient defence at all times, the service
required of the citizens also imparts a civil bene-
fit not to be lightly estimated. It disciplines the
mind as wxU as the body ; accustoms men to act
in unison, and to obey orders emanating from a
legally constituted authority ; teaches them sys-
tem, regularity, punctuality, and a manly car-
riage of tlie body : all and severally of much
imj)ortance in the eflfect upon the growing gene-
ration. Subscribing in a large degree to these
principles, and believing that our volunteer mili-
tia are quietly doing much good in their way, we
most heartily commend the subject to the w-ise
and good, that they may encourage them by their
countenance, and appreciate their performance
of duty. The English press announce with ele-
vated eye-brows, the fact that the enrolled militia
of the United States amounts to over a million
und a half of fighting men ! Just so, John Bull,
— very much at your service also, in any time of
need. Suppose you try and sec !
ENCAMPMENT OF THE FIRST REGIMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS LIGHT INFANTRY, AT NEWTONVILLE, IVIAS^-
114
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1852, liy F. Gleason, in tlio Clerk's OfBco of the
District Court of MassachusettB.
[written EXMIESBLT »0B GLEASOh'S PIOTOKIAL.]
THE
T% SE
OB,—
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
[continued.]
CIIArTER XVI.
A DISCOVERY.
" She never loved me," said Lorenzo Bezan,
in the privacy of liis own room, on the morning
subsequent to that of the serenade. "It was
only my own insufferable egotism and self-con-
ceit that gave me such confidence. Now I re-
view the past, what single token or evidence has
she given to me of particular regard ? what has
she done that any lady might not do for a gen-
tleman friend? I can recall notliing. True,
she has smiled kindly — 0, how dearly I have
cherished those smiles ! But what are they ?
Coquettes smile on every one I Alas, how mis-
erable am I, after all the fame I have won !"
Lorenzo Bezan was truly affected, as his words
have shown him to be. He doubted whether
Isabella Gonzales had ever loved him ; her scream
and fainting might have been caused by surprise,
or even the heat. He had been too ready to at-
tribute it to that which his own heart had first
suggested. 0, if he only dared to address her
now — to see her, and once more to tell how
dearly and ardently he loved her still — how he
had cherished her image by the camp fires, in
the battle-field, amid the deprivations of war and
the sufferings of a soldier's wounds. If he could,
if he dared to tell her this, he w^ould be happier.
But, how did he know that a proud repulse did
not await him 1 Ah, that was the fear that con-
trolled him ; he could not bear to part again
from her as ho had last done.
"While he was tVus engaged in reverie alone, a
servant, whom he had despatched on an errand,
returned to say that General Ilarero was very
ill, and confined to his bed ; that some wounds
he had accidentally received in quelling some
street affray had brought on a burning and dan-
gerous fever. On the receipt of this information
Lorenzo Bezan wrote a hasty note and despatched
the servant once more for a surgeon to come to
his quarters ; a demand that was answered by
the person sent for in a very few minutes. It
was the same surgeon who a few years before
had so successfully attended Lorenzo Bezan.
The recognition between them was cordial and
honest, while the new lieutenant-general told
him of General Harero's severe illness, and ex-
pressed a wish for him to attend the sick man.
" But, General Bezan," said the sm-geon,
" you have little cause for love to General
Harero."
" That is ti-ue ; but still I desire his recovery ;
and if you compass it by good niirsing and the
power of your art, remember fifty doubloons is
your fee."
" My professional prido would lead mo to do
my best," replied the surgeon, " though neither
I nor any other man in the service loves General
Harero any too much."
'* I have reasons for my interest that it is not
necessary to explain," said General Bezan, " and
shall ti-ust that you wiU do your best for him, as
you did for me."
" By the way, general, I have been half a
mind, more than once, ever since your return to
the island, to tell you of a little affaii- concerning
your sickness at that time, but I feared you might
deem it in some measure impertinent."
" By no means. Speak truly and openly to
me. I owe you too much to attribute any im-
proper motives to you in any instance. What
do you refer to V
" Well, general, I suppose on that occasion X
discovered a secret which I have never revealed
to any one, and upon which subject my lips have
been ever sealed."
" What was it V
" Your love for Isabella Gonzales."
" And how, pray, came you to surmise that?"
asked Lorenzo Bezan, in surprise.
" First by your half incoherent talk in moments
of delirium, and afterwards by finding her por-
trait, painted probably by yourself, among your
effects."
" True. I have it still," said Lorenzo Bezan,
musingly.
" But more than that I discovered from the
lady herself'?" said tlie surgeon.
"From the lady? What do you mean?"
asked General Bezan, most earnestly.
" Wliy she visited you during your illness, and
though she came in disguise, I discovered her."
" In disguise V
" Yes."
" How did you discover her ? I pray you tell
me all, if you are my friend."
" Bi/ a tear!"
" A tear V
" Yes, because I knew no servant or lady's
maid sent to execute her mistress's bidding would
have been so affected, and that led me to watch
for further discovery."
"Did she weep?"
" One tear fell from her eyes upon your Iiands
as she bent over you, and it told me a story that
I have since sometimes thought you should
know."
"A tear !" mused General Bezan, to himself,
rising and walking up and down his room in
haste ; " that must have come from the heart.
Smiles are evanescent ; kind words, even, cost
nothing ; but tears, they are honest, and come
unbidden by aught save the heart itself. Tears,
did you say ?" he continued, pausing before the
surgeon.
" As I have said, general."
"And she bathed my forehead, you say ?"
" She did, and ftu'ther, left with me a purse to
be devoted to supplying your wants."
" This you never told me of before."
" I have had no opportunity, and to speak
honestly, it was very well timed and needed."
"Money!" mused Lorenzo Bezan. "Money,
that is full of dross ; but a tear, — I would to
Heaven I had earlier known of that."
"I hope I have caused you no uneasiness,
general."
"Enough. Go on your mission to General
Harero ; save him, if you can ; you have already
saved me ! Nay, do not stare, but go, and see
me again at your leisure."
The siu'geon bowed respectfully, and hastened
away as he was directed.
That tear had removed mountains from Lo-
renzo Bezan's lieart ; he hardly knew what fur-
ther to do under the circumstances. The earli-
est impulse of his heart was to seek Isabella, and
throwing himself at her feet, beg her to forgive
him for having for one moment doubted the af-
fection and gentleness of her woman heart. This
was the turning point with him if she had a heart,
tender and susceptible, and not coroded by co-
quetry ; he had no fear but that he could win it ;
liis love was too true, too devoted, too much a
part of his soul and existence to admit of doubt,
Joy once more reigned in his heart. He was al-
most childish in his impatience to see her ; he
could hardly wait even for an hour.
At last, seating himself at a tabic, he seized
ujion pen and paper and wi'oto as follows :
" IsAnicLr.A, G0NZAJ.E8 : I know not how to
address you, in what tone to write, or oven as to
the propriety of writing to you at a!l ; but the
suspense I now suffer is my excuse. I need not
reiterate to you how dearly I love you ; you
know ibis, dear one, as fully as any assertion
of my own could jiossibly express it. It is
true tliat my love for you has partaken in no
small degree of a cliaracter of presumption, dar-
ing, as an humlde lieutenant of infantry, to lift
my eyes to one as peerless and beautiful as your-
self, and of a chuss of society so far above what
my own humble position would authorize me to
mingle with. But the past is past, and now my
rank and fortune both entitle me to the entree to
your father's house, I mention not these because
I would have them weigh in my favor with you.
Far from it. I had rather you would remember
me, and love me as I was when we first met.
"Need I say how true I have been to the love
I have cherLshcd for you 1 How by my side in
battle, in my dreams by the camp fire, and filling
my waking thoughts, you have ever been with me
in spirit ? Say, Isabella Gonzales, is this hom-
age, so sincere, thus tried and true, unwelcome
to you ? or do you, in return, love the devoted
soldier, who has so long cherished you in his
heart as a fit shrine to worship at ? I shall see
you, may I not, and you will not repulse me,
nor speak to me with coldness ? O, say when I
may come to you, when look once more into
those radiant eyes, when tell you with my lips
how dearly, how ardently I love you — ^have ever
loved you, and must still love you to the last?
I know you will forgive the impetuosity, and,
perhaps, incoherent character of this note.
Lorenzo Bezan."
We have only to look into the chamber of
Isabella Gonzales, a few hours subsequent to the
writing of this letter, to learn its effect upon her.
She was alone ; the letter she had read over
and over again, and now sat with it pressed to
her bosom by both hands, as though she might
thus succeed in suppressing the convulsive sobs
that shook her whole frame. Tears, the luxm'y
of both joy and sorrow, where the heart is too
full of either, tears streamed down her fair cheeks ;
tears of joy and sorrow both ; joy that he was
indeed still true to her, and sorrow that such
hours, days, nay, years of unhappiness, had been
thus needlessly passed, while they were separated
from each other, though joined in soul. 0, bow
bitterly she recalled her pride, and remembered
the control it had held over her, how blamed
herself at the recollection of that last farewell in
the prison with the noble but dejected spkit that
in spite of herself even then she loved !
She kissed the letter again and again ; she
wept like a child !
" The queen was right — he had no heart togive.
A countess ? She might have brought him
higher title, a prouder name, richer coffers ; but
he is not one to weigh my love against gold, or
lineage, or proud estates, or even royal favor ;
such, such is the man to whom I owe my very
life, my father's life, Buez's life, nay, what do I
not owe to him ? since all happiness and peace
hang upon these; and yet I repulsed, nay,
scorned him, when he knelt a suppliant at my
feet. 0, Iiow could a lifetime of devoted love
and gentleness repay him all, and make me even
able to forgive myself for the untrue, unnatural
part I have played ?"
She covered her face with her hands, as if to
efface the memory of the conduct which she had
just recalled so earnestly, and then I'ising, walked
back and forth in her apartment with all the im-
petuosity of her Creole blood evinced in the deep-
ened color of her cheek, and the brightness of her
beauteous eyes. Then once more seating herself,
she sat and trotted her foot impatiently upon the
floor.
" O, why, why cannot I recall the past; alas,
I see my error too late. Pride, pride, how bit-
terly and surely dost thou bring thine own re-
ward !"
She strove to answer the letter that now lay
open before her upon the table, but could scarcely
hold the pen, so deep and long drawn were the
sighs that struggled in her bosom. Sheet after
sheet was commenced and destroyed. Tears
drowned out the efforts of her pen, and she knew
not what to do. She bit her fair lips in vexa-
tion ; what should she write"? Once more sho
read his note, and full of the feelings it induced,
tried to answer it. But in vain ; her sheet was
bathed in tears before she had written one line.
" It is but the truth," she said, to herself, " and
I do not care if be knows it."
As she thus spoke, bho once more seized the
pen and wrote :
" In vain liave I essayed to ^vrite to you. Let
these tears bo your answer I
IsAiJEi-LA Gonzales."
If the beautiful girl had studied for months to
have answered tlie letter of him who loved Iier
so well, it would have been impossible for her to
have penned a more touching, more trutliful, or
more eloquent reply than this. Striking a tiny
silver bell by her side, a slave approached, and
was despatched with this note at once to the pal-
ace of the governor-general.
" Why, sister !" said Rucz, entering the room
and speaking at the same time, " you look as if
you had been weeping. Pray, are you ill ?"
"Nay, brother, I am not ill. It was but a
slight affair ; it is all over now. Where's Carlo,
Ruez V
The attempt to turn the course of conversation
to the dog, was not unobserved by the intelligent
boy. He saw at once that there was some mat-
ter in his sister's heart that was better to remain
her o^vn property, and so, with a ki.ss, he said no
more, but sat down at the window and looked
off upon the brilliant afternoon effect of the sun
and the light land breeze upon the water. Nei-
ther spoke for many minutes, until at last Kuez,
still looking off upon the waters of the outer
harbor, or Gulf Stream, said :
" I wonder where General Bezan keeps him-
self when off duty?"
" Why, brother ?"
" Because I have called there twice, and have
not seen him yet."
" Twice ?"
" Yes."
" You know it is but a very few days since ho
arrived, and he must be very busy."
" Probably," answered Ruez, stealing a glance
towards his sister.
" His present duty must engage a large portion
of his time, I suppose."
" 0, yes," said the boy, laughing, "just abont
one quarter as much of his time as was demanded
of him when he was a lieutenant in General Ha-
rero's division."
"By-the-by, Ruez, they say the general is very
ill of some chance wounds."
" The general deserves all he got, beyond a
doubt, and there is little fear but that he Avill re-
cover fast enough. He's not one of the sort that
die easily. Fortune spares such as he is to try
people's temper, and annoy humanity."
" But is he decidedly better ?" asked Isabella,
with some interest.
" Yes, the surgeon reports him out of danger.
Yesterday he was in a fever fi'om his wounds. I
can't conceive how he got them, and no one
seems to know much about it."
" There's Carlo and father, on the Plato ; good-
by, sister; I'm going to join them."
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ASSASSIN.
The apartment where General Harero was
confined to his bed by the severe wounds he had
received, presented much such an aspect as Lo-
renzo Bezan's had done, when in the early part
of this story the reader beheld him in the critical
state that the wounds he received from the Mon-
taros on the road had placed him. It was dark
and gloomy then. The same surgeon who had
been so faithful a nurse to our hero, was now
with tlie wounded oflSccr. Notwithstanding the
excitement of his patient's mind, he had succeed-
ed in quieting him down by proper remedies, so
as to admit of treating him properly for his
wounds, and to relieve his brain, at least in part,
from the excitement of feeling that a spirit of re-
venge had created there.
A knock was heard at the door just at the mo-
ment when we would have the reader look with
us into the apartment, and the surgeon admitted
a tall, dark person, partly enveloped in a cloak.
It was evening ; tlie barracks were still, and the
gloom of the sick room was, if possible, rendered
greater by the darkness that was seen from the
uncurtained window. At a sign from his patient
the surgeon left him alone with the new comer,
who threw himself upon a camp-stool, and fold-
ing liis arms, awaited the general's pleasure.
In the meantime, if the reader will look closely
upon the hard lineaments of his face, the heavy
eyebrow, tlie profusion of beard, and the cold-
blooded and heartless expression of features,
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
115
he will recognize the same man whom he lias
once before met with General Harero, and who
gave him the keys bj which he succeeded in
making a secret entrance to Lorenzo Bezan's
cell in the prison before the time appointed for
his execution. It was the jailor of the military
prison.
" Lieutenant," said the general, " I have sent
for you to perform a delicate job for me."
" Wlmt is it, general V
" I will tell you presently ; he not in such
haste," said the sick man.
"I am at your service."
" Have I not always paid you well when em-
ployed by me, lieutenant ■?"
" Nobly, general, only too liberally."
" Would you like to serve me again in a still
more profitable job V
" Nothing could be more agreeable."
" But it is a matter that requires courage, skill,
care and secrecy. It is no boy's play."
" All the better for that, general."
" Perhaps you will not say so when I have
explained it to you more fully."
" You have tried me before now !" answered
the jailor, emphatically.
" True, and I will therefore ti-ustyou at once.
There is a life to be taken !"
" Wliat ! another ?" said the man, with sur-
pi-ise depicted on his face.
*' Yes, and one who may cost you some trou-
ble to manage — a quick man and a swordsman."
" Wbo is it 1"
"Lorenzo Bezan !"
" The new lieutenant-general ?"
"The same."
" Wliy, now I think of it, that is the very offi-
cer whom you visited long ago by the secret pas-
sage in the prison."
" Very true."
" And now you would kill him ?"
" Yes."
" And for what 1"
" That matters not. Tou will be paid for
your business, and must ask no questions."
" O, very well; business is business."
" You see this purse ?"
" Yes."
"It contains fifty doubloons. Kill him before
the set of to-moiTow's sun, and it is yours."
"Fifty doubloons V
" Is it not enough V*
" The risk is large ; if he were but a private
citizen, now — but the lieutenant-governor I"
" X will make it seventy-five."
" Say one hundred, and it is a bargain," urged
the jailor, coolly.
" On yoxir own terms, then," was the general's
reply, as he groaned with pain.
" It is dangerous business, but it shall be done,"
said the other, drawing a dagger from his bosom
and feeling its point cai'efuUy. " But I must have
another day, as to-night it may be too late before
I can arrange to meet him, and that will allow
but one more night to pass. I can do nothing
in the daytime."
" VeiT well."
" Where shall I be most likely to meet him,
thiuk youT'
"Possibly after twilight, on the Plato, near
the house of Don Gonzales."
" I will bo on the watch for him, and my trusty
steel shall not fail me."
Thus saying, and after a few other words of
little importance, tlie jailor departed.
Maddened by the short confinement and suffer-
ing he had experienced, General Harero resolved
to rid himself at once of the stumbling block in
his path that General Bezan proved himself to
be. A reckless character, almost bom, and ever
bred a soldier, he stopped at no measux-es to
bring about any desired end. Nor was Lorenzo
Bezan's life the first one he had attempted,
through the agency of others ; the foul stains of
murder already rested upon his soul. It was
some temporary relief, apparently, to his feelings
now, to thiuk that he had taken the primary
steps to be revenged upon one whom he so bit-
terly hated. He could think of nothing else,
now, as he lay there, suflfering from those wounds,
and at times the expression of his face became
almost demoniac, as he ground his teeth and bit
his lips, in the intense excitement of his pas-
sions, the struggle of his feelings being so hitter
and revengeful.
But we must leave the sick man witli himself
for a while, and go elsewhere.
Lorenzo Bezan had been pressed with the busi-
ness incident to his new position, and this, too,
so xu'gcntly, that he had not yet answered the
note he had received from her he had loved so
dearly. He bad placed it next his heart, bow-
ever, and would seize upon the first moment to
answer it, not by the pen, but in person. It was
for this purpose, that, on the same evening we
have referred to, he had taken his guitar, and
was stroUing at a late hour towards the Plato.
It was the first moment that he could leave the
palace without serious trouble, and thinking Isa-
bella might have retired for the night, he resolved
at least to serenade her once more, as he had so
lately done.
It would be impossible to justly describe the
feelings that actuated the spirit of the lieutenant-
governor. His soul was once more buoyant
witli liope ; he loved deeply, ay, more dearly
than ever before, and he believed that he was
now indeed loved in return. How light was his
heart, how brilliant the expression of his face, as
he turned his steps towards the spot where his
heart had so often returned when the expanse of
ocean rolled between him and the spot so dear
to him from association. He hurried forward to
the steps that ascended from near the end of the
Calle de Mercaderes, on to the Plato, but before
he had reached it, there came bounding towards
him a large dog, which he instantly recognized
to he the hound that had so materially aided
him in saving the life of Ruez Gonzales, long
before.
At the same moment a hand was laid roughly
upon his shoulder, but was instantly removed ;
and on turning to see what was the meaning of
this rude salutation, the young general discov-
ered a large, dark figure struggling with the
hound, who, upon his calling to him, seemed to
relinquish the hold he had of the man's throat,
and sprang to his side, while the person whom
the dog had thus attacked, disappeared suddenly
round an angle of the Cathedral, and left Lo-
renzo Bezan vastly puzzled to understand the
meaning of all this. The man must evidently
have raised his arm to strike him, else the dog
would not have thus interposed, and then, had
the stranger been an honest man, he would have
paused to explain, instead of disappearing thus.
" I must be on my guard ; there are assassins
hereabouts," he said to himself, and after a mo-
ment's fondling of the hound, who had instantly
recognized him, he once more drew nearer to the
Plato, when suddenly the palace bell sounded
the alarm of fire. His duty called him instantly
to return, which he was forced to do.
It was past midnight before the fire was
quenched, and Lorenzo Bezan dismissed the
guard and extra watch that had been ordered
out at the first alarm, and himself, greatly fa-
tigued by his exertions and care in subduing the
fire, which in Havana is done under the direction
ajid assistance of the military, always, he threw
himself on hii couch, and fell fast asleep.
Early the subsequent morning, he despatched
a line to Isabella Gonzales, saying that on the
evening of that day be would answer in pci'son
her dear communication ; and that though press-
ing duty had kept him from her side, she was
never for one moment absent from his heart.
He begged that Euez might come to him in the
meantime, and he did so at once. The meeting
between them was such as the reader might an-
ticipate. The officer told the boy many of his
adventures, asked a thousand questions of his
home, about his kind old father, Isabella, the
hound, and all. While Ruez could find no words
to express the delight he felt that the same friend
existed in General Bezan, that he had loved and
cherished as the captain of infantry.
" How strange the fortune that has brought
you back again, and so high, too, in office. I'm
sure we are all delighted. Father says you richly
desen'C aU the honor you enjoy, and he does not
very often compliment any one," said the boy.
The twilight had scarcely faded into the deeper
shades of night, ou the foUomng evening, when
Lorenzo Bezan once more hastened towards the
Plato, to greet her whom he loved so tenderly
and so ti'uly — she who had been the star of his
destiny for years, wbo had been his sole incentive
to duty, his sole prompter in the desire for fame
and fortune.
In the meantime tliere was a scene enacting
on the Plato that should be known to the reader.
Near the door of the house of Don Gonzales,
stood Isabella and Euez, and before them a
young person, whose dress and appearance be-
tokened the occupation of a page, though his
gannents were soiled and somewhat torn in pla-
ces, Isabella was addressing the youth kindly,
and urged him to come in and rest liimsclf, for
he showed evident tokens of fatigue.
" Will you not come in and refresh yourself'?
you look weary qf^ ill."
" Naj', lady, not now. You say this is the
house of Don Gonzales '?"
" Yes."
"And are you the daughter of that house?"
continued the page.
" I am."
" I might have known that without asking,"
said the page, apparently to himself.
"Indeed, do you know us, then?" asked Isa-
bella, with some cmiosity.
" By reputation, only," was the reply. " The
fame of beauty travels far, lady."
" Do you live far from here, then V asked
Ruez, much interested in the stranger.
" Yes," was the reply. " Lady, I may call on
you again," continued the page, " but for the
present, adieu."
Turning suddenly away, the stranger walked
leisurely towards the head of the broad stau-s
that led from the Plato to the street below, and
descended them.
At the same moment, Lorenzo Bezan, on his
way to Isabella Gonzales, liad just reached the
foot of the stairs, when hearing quick steps behind
him, he turned his head just in time to see the
form of the page thrown quickly between the up-
lifted arm of the same dark figure which he had
before met here, and himself — and the point of a
gleaming dagger, that must else have entered his
own body, found a sheath in that of the young
stranger, who had thus probably saved his life.
More on the alert than he had been before for
danger, Lorenzo Bezan's sword was in his hand
in an instant, and its keen blade pierced to the
very heart of the assassin, who fell to rise no
more.
Such, alas, seemed to be the fate of the page
who had so gallantly risked, and probably lost,
his o\vn life, to protect that of the lieutenant-
go veraor.
" Alas, poor youth," said Lorenzo Bezan,
"why didst thou peril thy life to save me from
that wound 1 Canst thou speak, and tell me
who thou art, and what I shall do for thee V
" Yes, in a few moments ; bear me to Don
Gonzales's house, quickly, for I bleed very fast !"
CHAPTER XVm.
THE DISGUISE.
With the assistance of some passers-by, the
wounded page was home, as he had desired, to
Don Gonzales's house, while, in accordance with
an order from Lorenzo Bezan, the now lifeless
body of the jailor, for he it was who had attempt-
ed the life of the lieutenant-governor, was borne
away to the barrack yard. At the door of Don
Gonzales's house the page was met by Ruez and
Isabella ; and those who held the wounded boy,
hastily telling of his hurt, and the manner in
which it was received, carried him, as directed
by Isabella, to her brother's room, and a smgeon
was at once sent for.
" Sister," whispered Ruez, " did you hear
what those people said ?"
"What, brother?"
" Why, that the page saved the life of the lieu-
tenant-governor, Lorenzo Bezan ?"
" Yes."
" He must have been hai'd by, for the page
had only just left us."
" True."
" Yet he was not with the rest who entered the
house," continued Ruez.
" No," answered Isabella, " some one said ho
hastened away for a surgeon."
" Hark !"
" Wlio called you, sister ?" asked the brother.
" It was only the groan of that poor boy. I
wish they would bring the surgeon."
" But he calls your name ; go to him, dear
Isabella."
" 0, they have found the surgeon, and here he
comes," said his sister.
And thus indeed it was. Entering the apart-
ment, the surgeon prepared to examine the
wound, but in a moment he called to Isabella,
saying :
"Lady, this individual is one of thine own
sex ! and, I am very soiTy to say, is mortally
wounded."
"A woman !"
" Yes, lady ; see, she would speak to you ;
she beckons you near."
" Lady, I need not ask what that professional
man says. I know too well by my own feelings
that I must die, indeed that I am dying !"
" 0, say not so ; perhaps there may yet be
hopes," said Isabella, tenderly.
" Nay, there is none ; indeed it is better, far
better as it is."
" Why, do you wish to die ?" asked Isabella,
almost shrinking from her.
" Yes. There is nought left for me to live for,
and it is sweet to die, too, for him, for him I
have so dearly, so truly loved ?"
" Of whom do you speak V
" General Bezan !"
" You love him ?"
" Ay, lady, I believe far better than you can
ever do."
"Me !"
" Yes, for I know your o^vn heart, and his true
love for you !"
" "Wlio are you?"
" That matters not. But where is ho ? I
thought he followed me here."
" He went for the surgeon, and I have not seen
him," was the reply.
Isabella trembled, for at that moment General
Bezan, hastening back from the surgeon's, and
despatching some matter that occurred by the
way, now entered the house, and was greeted
most cordially by Don Gonzales and Ruez. And
from them he learned the extent of the injury,
and, moreover, that the supposed page was a
woman, disguised in a page's costume.
" Ah, general !" said Don Gonzales, " I fear
this is some little affair of gallantry on your
part that will result rather seriously."
"Be assured, sir," said the soldier, "that I
cannot in any way explain the matter, and that
I tliink there is some decided mistake here."
" Let us go to her apartment and see what can
he done for her injury," said General Bezan,
after a moment's pause, " be she whom she
may."
Just as they entered the apartment, the sur-
geon had loosened the dress of the sufferer at the
tliroat, and there fell out into sight the insignia
of the golden fleece and cross of St. Sebastian,
in a scroll of diamonds that heralded the royal
arms of Spain, and which none but those in
whose veins coursed royal blood could wear !
The surgeon started back in amazement, while
Don Gonzales uncovered out of respect to the
emblem. Springing to the side of the couch.
General Bezan turned the half averted face to-
wards him, while he seized the hand, of the suf-
ferer, and then exclaimed :
"Is this a miracle — is this a dream — or is this
really the Countess Moranza?"
" It is the Countess Moranza," replied the suf-
fei-ing creature, wdiile her eyes were bent on Lo-
renzo Bezan with an expression of most ineffable
tenderness.
All this while Isabella stood aghast, quite in
the rear of them all; but that look was not lost
upon her ; she shuddered, and a cold perspira-
tion stood upon her brow. Had she lived to see
such a sight — lived to see another preferred to
herself? Alas, what knew she of the scene before
her ? was it not a shameless one ? Had Lorenzo
Bezan deceived this high-born and noble lady,
and leaving her to follow him, came hither, once
more to strive for her love ? Her brain was in a
whirlwind of excitement, the room grew dark,
she reeled, and would have fallen but for tlie as-
sistance of Ruez, who helped her to her room,
and left her there, himself as much amazed at
what he had seen as his sister could possibly be.
" Has she gone ?" asked the sufferer.
"Who, lady?" said the soldier, tenderly.
" Isabella Gonzales."
" Yes," replied the father. "Do you desire
to see her?"
" 0 yes, I miist see her, and quickly ; tell her
I jmist see her."
The fiither retired ; while Lorenzo Bezan said,
as he bent over the person of the countess :
" Alas, I cannot ask thee now what all this
means ; you are too ill to talk ; what may I,
what can I do for thee ?"
" Nothing, Lorenzo Bezan. Draw nearer — I
have loved thee deai-Iy, passionately loved thee,
loved thee as a woman can love ; it was not de-
signed that I should win thy heart — it was al-
ready another's ; but it was designed, the virgin
be thanked, that though I might not wed thee, I
might die for thee !"
" 0, countess, countess, your words are like
daggers to my heart. I have been a thoughtless,
guilty "nTetch, but, Heaven bear* me T\itness, I
tlid not sin knowingly !"
" Nay, speak not one word. I am dying even
now ; leave me for a while. I would be alone
with this lady ; see, she comes, trembling and
bathed in tears !"
[CONCLITDED NEST WTIEK.]
116
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DllAWING ROOM COMPANION.
VICTOR HUGO.
Victor Hugo is one of the most distinguished
Frenchmen, of the present century, having -won
renown as anoet, a dramatist, a statesman nnd
an orator. He wiis born in Paris, and is now
about tifty years of age. He tirat appeared as ft
politieal song-writer, of tlic nltra-royalist school,
but he changed liis political vicwM in the course
of years, ajid from a dcfamer became a warm
eulogist of the memory of the great Njipolcon.
The revolution of 1848 found him a conhrmod
republican, and in the assembly, he was among
the most fiery and eloquent denouncers of the
reactionary spirit, of which Louis Napoleon took
advantage to aim, on the 2d of December, a
death-blow at the liberty and life of the legisla-
ture. M. Victor Hugo has refused to bow the
knee to the successful traitor, and hence the con-
sistent patriotism of lus riper years has ntonetl
for the wavering and unprincipled conduct of his
youth. Among his poetical writings, the volume
of poems entitled "Autumn Leaves," contains
some of the finest poetry of the age. As a dra-
matist he has been splendidly successful : his
Hernain, Marion do Lorine, Lueretia Borgia,
Angelo, still keeping the stage. As a novelist,
he has exhibited ])0wers of the very highest order.
His "Hunchback of Notre Dame," in which,
like Sir Walter Scott, he has succeeded in giv-
ing perfectly vivid pictures of life in the mitUllo
ages, is an intensely interesting work. His
speeches in the assembly are distinguished by
sound sense, profound learning, originality of
thought, and a Demosthenian fire and vigor of
style. Take him all in all, be is one of the most
remarkable men of modern France.
THE COST OF WAR.
It appears that the war of 1 088, after lasting
nine years, and ending by The treaty of Kyswick,
in 1697, cost twenty-six million pounds sterling.
The war of the Spanish succession cost sixty-two
millions and a half pounds sterling. Without
noticing the wars of the Pretender in 1715
and 1745, the Spanish war of 1739, settled for
at Aix-la-Chapelle cost fifty-four million pounds
sterling. The seven years war of 1756, which
terminated with the treaty of Paris, in 1763, cost
one hundred and twelve millions. The Ameri-
can war — a still more horrible and foolish cru-
sade against our liberties — cost one hundred and
eighty-six million pounds sterling. The French
Revolutionary war began in 1792, lasted nine
years, and cost four hundred and sixty-four mil-
lion pounds sterling. The war against Bona-
parte began in 1803, and ended in 1815, cost
eleven hundred and fifty-nine million pounds
sterling. Only think, these horrible crusades
against human liberty have cost the British na-
tion two thousand three hundred and thirty-three
millions of pounds sterling. Not to mention the
carnage and blood, the miseries of the widows
PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO.
and orphans, and the desolation and degradation
they have spread all around them. If to these
sums are added only the pension list, it would
be seen to what an incredible extent the British
people have been taxed, and how shamefully
their immense national resources have been
squandered. Their national debt — sums bor-
rowed to promote the above horrid and brutal
wars and corruptions — amounts to nearly eight
hundred million pounds sterling. Besides the
sixteen hundred millions which the French Rev-
olution cost England, it cost France about two
thousand six hundred millions, and Europe five
thousand millions sterling. — National Statistics.
CURIOUS CALCULATION.
What a noisy creature would a man be, were
his voice in proportion to his weight a-s loud as
a locust ! A locust can be heard at the distance
of 1-lOlh of a mile. The golden wren is said to
weigli but half an ounce; so that a middling-
si/X'd man would weigh down not short of 40U0
of them ; and it must be strange if a golden wren
would not outweigh four of our locusts. Sup-
posing, therefore, that a common man weighs as
much as 16,000 of our locusts, and that the note
of a locust can be heard 1-1 6th of a mile, a man
of common dimensions, pretty sound in wind
and limb, ought to be able to make himself
heard at the distance of 1600 miles; and when
he sneezed " his house ought to fall about his
ears." Supposing a fiea to weigh one grain,
which is more than its actual weight, and to
jumj) one and a half yards, a common man of
150 pounds, with jumping powers in proportion,
could jump 12,800 miles, or about the distance
from New York to Cochin China. Aristophanes
represents Socrates and Ins disciples as deeply
engaged in calculations of these kinds around a
table on which they arc waxing a flea's legs to
see what weight it will carry in proportion to its
size, but he does not announce the result of their
experiments. We are, therefore, happy in being
able to su])ply, in some degree, so serious an
omission. — English paper.
THE ARTISTS' BALL,
The engraving below represents the splendid
ball recently given by the united associations of
artists, painters, sculptors and musicians, in the
galleries of the Bonnc-Nouvelle Bazaar, at Paris.
The evening was of a series of brilliant soirees^
equally worthy of the generous men who patron-
ize them, and the unfortunate persons they were
instituted to assist. The entire proceeds of these
reunions are devoted to the succor of destitute
professors of art. The rooms are engaged on a
long lease by the members of the association,
who are not, unfortunately, rich enough to pur-
chase tbem. They were decorated by M. Cam-
bon, after designs by M. Jules Bouchet. The
engraving represents the principal hall, called
the Concert Room, which is connected with
another apartment of the same size by means of
a gallery containing a collection of pictures and
statues, the work of the most distinguished French
artists. A concert-room, embellished by paint-
ings and statuary, and enlivened by dancing and
music is something original and striking. Since
the hon ton have deserted the masked balls, for
meetings in better taste, it is only right that their
number should be increased, and the artists of
Paris have wisely determined that this ball shall
not be the last. The evening proved a brilliant
and happy one, and the profits realized on the oc-
casion were enormous.
fp AR^rpyS^ BAL?. 11^ JHE GALLERIES OF 'rJ3E BONNE-NO UVELLE BAZAAR; PARIS.
GLEASO^"S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
117
DESTRUCTION OF THE STEAIMER HENRY CLAY, BY FIRE, ON THE HUDSON RI\^R.
burnhvg of the henry clay.
Our illustration represents the Henry Claj as she was run
ashore, with her bow embedded eight feet in the bank by the side
of the railroad track. About one third of her entire length was
out of water. The spot where she beached is about one mile
above Spuyten Devil Creek and t^vo and a half below Yonkers.
On the right is seen an arch thrown over the track to carry a pri-
vate road from above to a dock which is immediately behind the
boat ; indeed, as she ran ashore, her guards projected over this
dock and set lire to the sti'ing piece. Just in front of the bow is
a little shanty whicli is occupied by one of the railroad sentinels.
Along the cilge of the beach and near the boat is seen some shad
poles, which the tisliermen have left here for the time being, and
piled stones upon them to prevent tiieir floating away with the
tide. It is a proper inquiry, why were not these poles used as a
means of rescuing the passengers ? They are fifty feet
long, would each sustain ten or twelve persons, and
would almost have reached from the beach to the stem
of the boat. In front of the wheel may be seen an in-
dividual cutting ttirough the side of the boat to relieve
any one who may be in the hold of the vessel. The
ill-fated passengers are seen clinging to the wheel and
under the guards, while others are crowded on the
stem, loath to throw themselves into the treacherous
waves where so many met a watery grave. The only
boat which reached the scene before the Armenia
came up, is seen at the stem of the steamer taking otF
the passengers of the ill-fated boat. The bows of the
Armenia are shown just behind the Henry Clay. In
the distance the Palisades stretch along up the west-
ern shore of the Hudson, until they lose themselves
in Tappan Bay. In the immediate foreground is one
of the train of cars whicli reached the spot just after
the Henry Clay ran ashore, and whoso passengers did
such good service in rescuing many of their fellow
beings from death. The details of this disaster are of
a truly heart-rending character. Our limits will per-
mit only a general view of this deplorable event.
The Henry Clay left Albany at 7 o'clock Wednesday
morning, July 2Sth, having on board, as near as could
be ascertained, some 300 passengers. Tiie Armenia
left the same place a few minutes afterward. On the
passage do^vn the river there was, as witnesses testifv,
a continuous strife or race between the two boats. At
one time the Henry Clay crowded tlie Armenia al
most upon the western shore, and forced her to drop
astern. The passengers on board the Henry CI i\
finally became greatly alarmed on account of the
racing, and sometime before the fire a number of la-
dies were crying and running about the cabin, as if
sensible that some catastrophe was impending. Some
of the officers of the boat went among them, assured
them that there was no danger, and tried to pacify
them. We are assured that the race had been so
hotly contested that the boats had purposely missed
some of their landings. The runners of the boats at
the various landings appear to have been aware of the
racing, since they were freely ottering bets upon their
favorites. However, no accident or outrage occurred
until a few minutes after the Henrt' Clay passed Yon-
kers, when it was discovered that the woodwork near
the boilers and flues was on fire. The alarm spread,
but the officers of the boat — judiciously, without doubt
— told the passengers that there was no danger. The
pilot, however, saw that no time was to be lost, and
headed the boat for the eastern shore. Tlie river here
is nearly two miles wide, and the boat in her regular
course would have been a mile and a half froni the
east bank. Before reaching the shore, the flames had
spread so as almost to prevent communication be-
tT\'een the fore and aft parts of the boat. At about three or quar-
ter past three o'clock, the boat came ashore, lying at right angles
with the river, and the bow driving up some twenty-five feet on
dry land, and plunging with tremendous force into the railroad
embankment, which is there some six or eight feet higli. The
shock overthrew the smoke-pipe, displaced everything moveable,
and added not a little to the spreading of the flames. While the
bow was high and dry, the greater poition of the boat, and un-
fortunately that which held nearly all the passengers, was in deep
water. The passengers immediately began to jump overboard.
Those on the how got off safely, and began to help the others.
A board fence near by, was instantly stripped, and the boards
thro'wn into the water. By great exertion, a large majority of
the passengers got ashore, some scorched, nearly all with loss of
clothes, trunks, etc. But the rapid spread of the tire, which
CROSSING THE SIERRA NEVADA.
forced the passengers at the stem overboard, was the cause of the
loss of a large number of lives. The scene was one of the most
terrible character. Mothers with their clothes in flames, trying to
save some dear child ; children struggling in the waves without a
hand to help them ; husbands and wives dro^iiing together rather
than separate, and the remorseless fire rapidly destroying the last
standing-place of tlie helpless victims. There were very few
houses in the neighborhood, and very little help could be had
from the shore. But all who knew of it hastened to lend their
aid. The scene of the melancholy disaster was visited at an early
hour, the day following, by an immense concourse of persons,
anxious to recognize the lost, to reclaim the bodies which were
recovered, or to gaze upon the wreck wliich told so eloquently of
the fully and rashness that has shrouded many families in the
deepest grief. The few remains of the ill-fated vessel are cast
upon the shore, and only a timber, here and there, is
left to tell what was once a handsome structure — a
pregnant commentary on the fatal results of foolhar-
dincss and reckless daring. About daylight, a strong
force of workmen commenced grappling for the bodies
which had not been recovered. The labor was con-
tinued without intermission throughout the day.
Twent^-^-three additional bodies were recovered; since
then, several others have been found, swelling the
aggregate to eighty persons known to have been lost.
Before 10 o'clock in the morning, the grappling irons
had recovered several bodies, which were decently
composed and laid in order upon the beach for recog-
nition. They were covered over with green branches
from the woods adjacent, and carefully shielded from
harm. The arrangements made in the progress of
the search were as complete as it was possible to
make them, removed as the locality is from towns or
dwellings. The survivors had every facility afforded
them to view the remains, and hundreds stood mourn-
fully gazing at the scene. Husbands, wives, parents,
brothers, sisters, thronged in deep grief around the
grouped bodies, and the air was often pierced by the
cries wrung from tortured hearts. The sight was cal-
culated to move the deepest siTnpathies of the heart,
and there were few who witnessed it unaffected by the
solemn feeling it inspired. Seldom has an event
transpired which has awakened an intenser interest
than this. Such a wholesale and needless waste of
human life challenges, and will receive the utmost
scrutiny into its cause. The verdict of the coronei-'s
jury in this case brands the disaster as the result of
culpable negligence and criminal recklessness.
CROSSOG THE SIERRA NEVADA,
This scene upon our own continent very happily
expresses the perils to which travellers crossing the
Sierra Nevada to El Dorado are constantly exposed.
The road passes along the verge of frightful precipices,
into which a single false step of the mule would pre-
cipitate both animal and rider. Fortunately, the ani-
mals are so steady and surefooted tliat accidents are
of very rare oecun-ence, and those who frequently
cross the mountains become perfectly indifi'erent to
the menacing ehai-acter of these rugged passes. Of
this we have an illustration in the engraving. The
airtero or muleteer in frontfis carelessly reclining on
his pack-saddle, touching his guitai*, and warbling
some love song or mountain ditty. His companion,
equally indifferent to danger, is yet wholly absorbed
in soothing the fears of the lady whose nerves are
shaken by a glance into the hon-ible gulf yawning
at her fe'et, aiid who clings in desperation to the stal-
wort form of the muleteer. The whole design is
effective, well conceived and boldly executed.
118
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COINIPANION.
[Written for GloiiHon'a I'ictorlul.]
FEAll,
BY IBADEL A8IIT0N.
Do yo hear it, 0 my nifltcr ?
Thiit wild, wiiiliiit,' Kound of woo,
Out iirHid the fciii'ful (lfirkni!t<a,
. Moui'iifully it HCcnis to go.
Draw up cloycv t<) nio, fllHtur, —
Will tlio moi-ning iiovnr breiik?
Tho Bwcofc, glowiug light of iiiorniiig, —
Sinter, dearest niBter, wake I
Proflfl thy cheelt to mine, Bweot Bister,
Whisper noftly iu my eiir,
It is but tho night-wind'H music,
In this lonely hour I liciir.
All tho blcBsed stara iiro Hhroudod
In u veil of dreiwy gloom,
And tho soft, bright silver nioonbcomB
HaTO gone from our sllout room.
Did yo hear it, O my eister?
Thtit bright, vivid, lightning flash ;
Its red sweep brings woo and terror,
And tho thunder's fearful cliisU.
A diirk storm is brooding o'er us,
Deeper shadows giither round ;
I can hear tho rain-dropa dashing
In wild fury on tho ground.
Clasp my hand in thine, sweet sister.
For the morning cometh now ;
A faint tinge of red is resting
On thy pure and placid brow.
That dark cloud is swiftly passing
I'rom the brow of night away.
And my heart is once more throbbing
In tho joy and hght of day.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LIBERTY vs. LOVE:
— OK —
THE SOLDIER'S TEIUMPH.
BY MRS. H. MAKION STEPHENS.
I LOVE occasionally to go " down among the
dead men " of the olden time, and Imnt up such
relics of tradition as may have lingered among
their tombs. I have an unqualified reverence
for anything bearing the stamp of age, be it ani-
mate or senseless ; a childish awe, mingled with
womanly curiosity, to trace back its history into
the past when it had been fresh and young.
Call it impulse, call it restlessness, call it what
you will, from a cliild, this indefinable sentiment
has sprung into life before any specimen of an-
tiquity of whatever form or substance.
You will not wonder, then, dear reader, that
the old gable-roof building opposite my residence,
rearing its gray old timbers in the very heart of
the city, should have excited my curiosity. For
two mortal years it had been before my eyes ;
dark and shadow crowned through the morn-
ings, and all the long days, until the evening
sunbeams came slanting over the city, to rest a
moment on its worn timbers.
For two mortal years, througli the mornings,
and all the long days, the continuous click, click
of the workman's hammer has been the only
sound issuing from that curious specimen of old
time architecture. Carriages may be seen at any
moment flashing in through the rickety gates,
and always returning with a freshened appear-
ance, as if the antique mass of wood and mortar
had the power to rejuvenate everything but
itself.
And there came a time, in those years, when,
from physical inability, I was unable to dream
my accustomed dreams by my chamber window;
but the old building must have been grateful for
the interest I had evinced in its past; for morn-
ing after morning, when tliere were no clouds in
the sky, the great gray mass was mirrored in the
sunlight upon my chamber floor. So I knew it
was there still, and grew at length to like its
company, and to feel uncomfortable when the
cloudy days came and obscured its shadow.
Judge of my surprise, then, I may say horror — ■
for my love for this crumbling structure liad be-
come a mania, — when, upon looking from my
window for the first time in many weeks, I found
in its stead a bright new building, with a coat of
the yellowest kind of yellow paint, taking upon
itself more airs than was quite becoming for a
young settler in our jostling little neighborhood.
I was vexed, I confess, it, grieved and disap-
pointed ; but, as I turned away, there, in the
sunlight upon the floor, was still mirrored tlie
same old jagged gable-roof that I had looked
upon so often. Pretty good for fancij, thought I,
and rubbed my eyes to dispel the illusion ; but
there it remained as motionless and shadowy as
ever. I turned again to the window, and run-
nnig my eyes from tlio p^ckc^gatc to t!io top of
the building, saw, sure onougli, u)jrisiiig from its
young dress, like another Mrs. Skcwton, tlie head
and shoulders of my oUl frii-nd llie galdc-roof.
And sheepishly enough ashamed of itself, it did
look in new toggery, and I could almost fancy
the gables trying to explain liow old and power-
less they had been to resist the invasion, and
begging me not to abate my interest in their
history.
Among the scorners of its alTected juvenility
was an aged and venerable man, whom I had
often noticed in other days gazing with a dreamy,
indolent smile upon its decaying timbers ; but
now he would liurry past as fast as his trembling
limbs could carry him, and always with an un-
mistakable contempt upon his lip and in his eye.
Once, and once only, he paused in his accustom-
ed walk, and leaned heavily against the gate. I
saw the carriage of a wealthy merchant pass
through so near that it must have grazed him;
but he gave no sign of consciousness. I saw his
lips trembling, and his eyes moistened, and then
I saw no more, for my traitor of a thimble had
betrayed me by rapping on the window, and the
old man was hobbling up stairs before I quite
knew what I intended asking him.
" The old house V I exclaimed, as soon as he
entered the room. "The old gable-roof; what
did tempt them to disfigure it so V*
" Sacrilege, sacrilege," he muttered, more to
himself than in reply to me. " If that old house
could tell its history."
I was right. It had a history, and the old man
knew it, and the old man would tell it to me.
Blessings on his gray locks, I could have kissed
him with a hearty good will, if — if he had been
twenty years younger. I drew up the great
stuff"ed chair for him to repose in, and snuggling
down on a stool by his side (he was an old man
— a imij old man, remember), prepared to be a
most attentive listener.
" That house was not always the great gray
ghost of a building it is now," he began. " You
see that old elm and the poplar just beyond it?"
I was prepared to see and believe anything in
reason, so I nodded my head in the afflrmative.
" Many years ago — more years than you have
numbered, — where those two trees now stand,
solitary and alone, a large affluent grove of elms
and poplars gave a cheering shade to the worn
traveller, and a cozy nestling-place for the only
hotel. Inn it was called, in those days, for miles
and miles away. There were other places of en-
tertainment, in the true English sense of the
word, but no other inn, where the honest, gene-
rous hospitality of a large-souled patriot went
out like a blessing, and drew around him not
those alone whose deep purses and willing hands
could liberally re-iraburse him for his kindness;
but the needy and the suffering, the toil-worn
and the weary, the soldier and the civilian, found
alike a home and a welcome beneath the quaint>-
looking gable-roof of Merriam Wilder — Merry
Wdd, as he was called by those about him, and
merry and wild he ivos to his heart's content.
'* Some of his neighbors could count more
gold than he had ever dreamed of, I>ut he could
buy and sell them all in the lasting affluence of
heart wealth. 0, thank God, thank God ! that,
while the rich man can build his golden steps,
one by one, up to the throne of the Almighty,
there is ahvai/s by the poor man's side a Jacob's
ladder, formed of good resolves and noble pur-
poses, where he may go up, day after day, and
take a look at the bright things in store for him,
when he shall have performed the mission allot-
ted him here on earth. And Merry Wilder was
continually going up this ladder, although he had
travelled the same road for forty years. In vain
IMrs. Wilder — good soul — felt sure they should
bring up at the poor-house for his extravagance.
In vain she protested that charity should begin
at home ; he would only catch her in his arms,
kiss her lips until they forgot to pout, and go
around doing good as usual. Were any of his
poorer neighbors sick or in distress, the whole
house would be ransacked to find something ser-
viceable for them, and away he would go, up the
aforesaid Jacob's ladder, with joy and thankful-
ness. Did any poor soldier cross his path, the
last dollar, perhaps, he had in the world, would
be pressed upon bim, and his own heart would
leap up to meet the blessing and the prayer of
the reeipieut of his bounty.
" 0, a rare innkeeper was good Meniara Wil-
der, and a rare treasure did he possess in the
frank, blithe, blue-eyed daughter of his love,
Kitty Wilder. Kitty was not beautiful bcjond
what youth, and health, and innocency, could
make licr ; but the same generous, cordial, en-
thusiastic spirit, which characterized her father,
was tlie equivalent for a more decided beauty of
person. Unselfish in her afiections, unused to
restraint, and untainted l)y the sujjcriicial gloss
of fashionttble life, she moved in her little sphere
of usefulness, won the approval, not alone of her
own heart, but of every one with whom slic
chanced to meet.
" It was in the days dedicated to brave heartu
and noble deeds; and many an exhausted vete-
ran, and many a wounded soldier, owed an ex-
tended life to the gentle care and womanly atten-
tion of the innkeeper's daughter. One day the
quiet of the inn, which, notwithstanding the fre-
quent skirmishes and outbreaks in the adjacent
towns, had grown monotonous, was broken by
tlic arrival of a stranger and a soldier, either of
the relations being sufficient to gain him the wel-
come which was most kindly extended. The
new comer was a slight, graceful youth, wliose
form the sun of nineteen summers had scarcely
ripened into manhood, but from whose eye
beamed a consciousness of great energy, a grasp-
ing ambition, and a fearlessness of result, which
failed not once in a lifetime to make a favorable
impression. No wonder the impulsive maiden
of the inn recognized and respected his superior-
ity, when, in a cycle of centuries past and yet to
come, his name has been and will be venerated
wherever liberty maybe recognized as a national
good. Young as he was, attentive and deferential
to the aged, and cordial to familiarity with those
of his own years, still none could leave him with-
out feeling that they had been in the presence of
one formed, if not habituated to command, certain
in either case of being obeyed.
" There was in his whole manner a prestige
of extraordinary genius ; of towering, almost au-
dacious enthusiasm, and a quiet, unresisting fas-
cination, which exercised its influence alike upon
the daring and the weak. Even the horse upon
which he rode, betraying the blood of a noble
stock, was, like everything else upon which his
brUliant eyes would chance to rest for the time,
under the most perfect control. He seemed to
delight in goading him on to the most exaspera-
ted fury, and then dropping the reins over his
arching neck, with a single word still the tem-
pest to an almost abject calm,
'* The intended week's visit had extended to a
delay of months, and still the youthful stranger
lingered at the inn, much to the edification of
the gossips, who winked and nodded, and whi.s-
pered words to ICitty Wilder, which sent the
blood in crimson gushes over her face and neck,
although she laughingly protested against their
insinuations. But however much their hearts
had been interested, there had been no love-pas-
sages, no lip-worship, or interchange of thought
between the parties, who were conceded by all to
be destined for a life union of interest and affec-
tion. No, they were not lovers, at least in the
common acceptation of the term. Perhaps Kitty
had thought his manner strange and pecuUar,
and even wished at times that he would speak,
when so often he had made the attempt and
checked the words. Sometimes when they were
alone, he would lay his hand upon her arm, get
as far ' liitty, darling,' and then, blushing to the
eyes, turn away, and ask some common-place
question of little interest to either party.
" But the long bright evenings, when the old
man would come in and sit with them around
the crackling fire, then it was that Kitty could
watch with a furtive glance the eloquent face and
flashing eyes of her guest, as he listened (as if
heart and soul were in the cause) to the tales of
battles won and battles still progressing, of
which Merry Wild could talk unanswered by the
hour. That wild, glad, glorious face, so full of
interest and enthusiasm ! That wild, glad, glo-
rious face ! She could not help her dreams ; and
itwonld come to her in her sleep, and bending over
her, breathe all, and more than her young heart
ever dared believe in its waking moments of high
and holy trust, of deep, lasting and religious fer-
vor ; but with the day such thoughts were put
aside, and she would commune with her guest,
as if, under the calm exterior, there was no great-
er depth of feeling than was palpable to his earn-
est gaze.
" The spring came, and with it fresh trials and
invasions, and new expeditions were forming
from the neighborhood to join the armies already
engaged upon the defensive ground, ready to
protect their homes and country at tlie peril of
their lives. And the enthusiasm had spread un-
til it reached the little inn, and Merry Wild, now
wi/dcr than ever, was overlooking muskets and
hits of uniform that had, at various times, been
left to his care, murmuring, as he brightened up
tlie polished steel: 'If I was only young as I
was twenty-five years ago, wouldn't the rascals
have a time of it^'
" And there was one whose cheeks brightened
into a deeper glow, whose eyes flashed a boding
fire, and whose heart throbbed between the dou-
ble fire of love and liberty. All day long ho
had been out under the solemn whispering elms,
that threw a broken shadow over the gable-roof,
communing with his own heart, and striving to
draw a correct line between duty and inclination.
" The last gleam of the sun lay upon the hill
tops, and the last note of bird-song was dying
away among tlie leaves, and still he brooded in
painful silence upon the immature plans he had
before him — Lorn find Fame I He closed his
eyes, and the soft winning smile of Kitty seemed
beckoning him to forget in her presence all the
grand and lofty dreams which had haunted Ins
boyhood, and tinged his life with ahold coloring
of romance. He knew she loved; knew it; felt
sure of it; and should he, with the cup of happi-
ness at his lip, from which he could drink to his
heart's content, should he fling it from his hand,
break the pitcher at the well, and all for that
visionary thing which men call fame. He re-
called all the native grace and gentle dignity of
the pretty girl, whose noble traits of character so
well accorded with his own sympathies. He
thought of her as the patient, thoughtful nurse,
as the tender, loving daughter, as the idol of her
companions, and the calm, reflective woman.
He had seen her in every phase of her many
sided character, scarcely knowing which most
to admire, little knowing that there was still
another phase in which the strong will of a great
soul would triumph even, when his own resolu-
tion too sorely tried was like to fail. A stranger
in a strange land, tempted hither by the great
watchword Liberty, mounting upon its strong
mngs to glory and immortality, should he, now
that strong arms and stout hearts were most
needed, turn a deaf ear to the voice that had
lured him from his home, aud settle do^vn in in-
active ease, while there were struggles to achieve,
wrongs to redress, and a liberty for the land of
his adoption still unattained ? No, no, no !
With a mighty etfort he turned the current of his
thought as much backward into the past for in-
centive, as forward into the future for hope.
The waves of passion subsided, and the broad
deep current of his native energy rushed in and
overpowered it. He had youth, health, energy,
a vitality of strength and courage, a physique
formed for endurance, and more than all, an un-
qualified love of right and honesty ; and should
he at the last moment, Avhen most needed in the
field of action, turn away from the very impulse
and desire which had guided him into the very
field wherein he designed to labor ?
" Darker and duskier grew the grove of elms
and poplars, and stronger and braver grew the
heart, but a moment before so vacillating and
undecided. He had conquered /jimse//^— and
when, in a moment after, the stillness of the grove
was broken by a light footstep, and the liand of
lutty rested upon his own, he did not blush or
turn away, as he had done before, but placing
his disengaged arm around her waist, drew her
tenderly to his bosom. She did not resist the in-
vasion, or repel tlie close pressure of lips wliich
were pressed for tho first time against her own.
The old vacillation of impulse was returning
with double force, and a torrent of words was
ready to fall from his lips, but he checked them,
and only murmured :
" 'Kitty, do you know what it is to love, as
the lightning loves the tree it blasts, as the ocean
loves the fleet it swallows up, as I love you ?'
" ' j\Ti/ God!' she exclaimed, recoiling from
his clasp, with a face from which every particle
of color had fled. My God! How that holy
name comes from tlie heart to the lip in any case
of emergency, in any sudden fright, in any sud-
den sorrow, in any sudden joy — that reverend
name springs up, a living evidence to those who
dare to say there is no God !
" She had clasped her hands, and stood lean-
ing against a tree, gazing upon her companion
with an expression of hopeless sorrow upon her
face.
" ' ICitty, I lOve you — love you !'
" ' O, you must not ; indeed you must not !'
she pleaded, as if lite aud death hung upon his
recanting the confession. ' Indeed — indeed, you
must not. You, so powerful to command, so
formed to achieve ! The country is besieged —
•my country, and yours, you say, for tho future.
GLEASON'S PICTOMAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
119
It is no time for love, except such love as shall
avail the battle-field. There has been bloodshed,
and tjTanny-j and oppression, and we thought it
had terminated. There has been liberty for
some, but not for all. Even now I heard my
father boast of your high valor, of your keen
judgment, or your comprehensive intellect.
Even now I heard him say you were worthy a
place side by side with our guardian angel, Wash-
ington. And now — no, no ! I do not lovo you
— I will not;* and she clasped her hands upon
his arm again, and clung to hira as if he must be
persuaded. * Be true to youi'self, to your own
sense of right and hberty, and in my heart you
will find a sentiment which will stand you in bet-
ter stead, when the battle rages most, that will
last longer, and endure more, that will follow
you in prayers for safety, in hope for success, in
prophetic dreams of your fiitxn-e glory.'
" She had grown pale as death, and her clasp
upon his arm again released ; but he dctamcd her
at his side. Love him ! She might assert it, and
tiy to convince her own heart as she did his; but
he had read each leaf of that fresh book wherein
it was clasped, and saw her as she ivas ; no blush-
ing girl, but a high-souled devotee, an enthusiast,
who, having solved the problem of her country's
fate, held the answer in her o\vn hand, and
shrank not from its fulfilment. To him there
was something holy in this yielding up of all the
dearest ties of earth to a love of country and
freedom ; and if he could have loved her more
than he did, her sacrificing devotion would have
compelled him to do so, but he could not.
" ' We are meeting for the last time on earth,'
he murmured.
" ' I know it, do I not, think you ? Have I not
suffered, and struggled, and prayed, for strength
to bear this trial ? But let us be calmly wise,
hopefully true, and for the rest, we are in the
hands of God.'
" ' Eatty, we are meeting for the last time on
tliis side of the grave, and yet loving yon, as I
do, I was seeking you to tell you what you
have but now told ;we, and to bear with me into
the battle's heat, the knowledge that I had made
the sacrifice which you have made of love return-
ed, yet lost it for the sake of a higher, holier mis-
sion. Kitty, we are parting forever, and yet you
look so glad — so glad !'
" ' Glad ? of course glad,' she spoke, in a ra-
pid, passionate tone ; ' how could I choose but
be glad, to find the one I would have chosen
from all the world, would have worshipped with
an intensity of worship of which few could dream ?
how could I choose but be glad, to find him
worthy of my choice, creditable to my worship ?
O, believe me, the best, deepest, purest love, is
that which sacrifices most, suffers most. The
soul is of God, and love is of the soul. The
strongest love and the strongest anguish were
bequeathed to us from the garden of Gethsemane,
and with it power to endure unto the end, while
faith and hope are stars within our sky.'
" And the youthful lover listened to the argu-
ment, and was happy. It was his ideal of love,
purified, refined and exalted into religion ; it was
his ideal of the divinity re-produced in the hu-
man form. The pale, sweet, solemn face rested
upon his shoulder, and he was alone.
*' Litlle knots of people were standing together,
busily arranging for the expedition, which would
commence with the morning. In a few moments
more, there was a general shout of exultation,
which startled the echoes from their propriety.
The brave youth, whom every one respected, had
signified his intention of joining the party. Tlie
morning came, and a troop of hardy, rugged
men, led by a young officer, who looked still
younger for the contrast, might have been seen
with eager, determined faces, marching on to
join the troops already stationed in the interior
of the country. The window, up in the gable
looking west, framed a pale sweet face for a mo-
ment after their departure. There was a low,
sad moan, an earnest prayer, a gush of tears,
and Kitty Wilder, the enthusiast, returned once
more to the duties of her station, and for years
after, became a general benefactress to the poor
and wounded soldiery."
" And did they never meet again 1" I inquired,
finding the old man's histoiy bad ended some-
what unsatisfactorily.
" Yes. Many years after the termination of
the revolutionary struggles, when each had sepa-
rate interests and separate afitctions ; but to the
end of her life, I believe, if ever she acknowledged
an especial pride in any one incident, it was
that of having been the first love of General
Lafayette!"
[Written for Gleason's rictorial.]
JUAN AND lOLA.
A STORY OF CASTILE.
BY EDWARD J. HANDIBOE.
The Count de Zamillo, the last remaining
representative of an ancient and illustrious house,
after serving with honor in the armies of his
sovereign, had retired to spend, on liis paternal
domains, the evening of his days, and to super-
intend the education of his daughter, the lovely
lola. She had been deprived, while yet an in-
fant, of that greatest of all blessings to a youth-
ful female — the care of a tender and accom-
plished mother. This circumstance had thrown
a shade of melancholy over the character and
pursuits of the count, and only in his daughter
did he seem to acknowledge the tie which bound
liim to life. In her he beheld the only solace of
his grief, and in watching her improvement he
found the most pleasing occupation. Nor was
she unworthy of his care. Talents, such as fell
to the lot of few, a disposition the most engag-
ing, and a form the most lovely, marked the
rising years of lola.
The count, his daughter, and her gouvemante, an
elderly lady of elegant manners and accomplish-
ments, the widow of an officer who had served un-
der her present protector, had for many years com-
posed the only inmates of the castle. At length,
in the tivelfth year of lola's age, a new event in-
troduced an addition to tlieir domestic circle.
The only sister of the count had early in life
formed an imprudent match — for such the world
presumes to call those connections which are
hallowed by aflTection, though not recommended
by the meaner advantages of wealth or rank.
Her husband was by birth an Itahan, in which
country he possessed a small property, where his
family Hved happily, though not splendidly.
His sister had never ceased to be an object of
warm afiection to the count ; but the hereditary
pride of birth, and dislike of everything like ple-
beian connection, were among his strongest prej-
udices. His sister and her husband were equally,
but more rationally proud, in disdaining to so-
licit what they deemed unworthily denied. No
intercom-se, therefore, had ever been main-
tained between the separated relatives. In the
happiness of domestic duties, in the conversation
of the man she loved, and in the education of
her only son, this sister, however, never once
found cause to regret the sacrifice of useless
pomp, for real though humble happiness. But
in this life there is no permanent felicity. Before
theii- son, the little Juan, had attained his seventh
year, this kind husband and affectionate parent
died.
To his widowed mother, Juau now remained
the only comfort, and to his education she di-
rected all her care. For such a duty, both from
ability and affection, no one could be better quali-
fied ; and her son was thus enabled to acqnii'c
accomplishments wliicli would have graced any
rank. But misfortune seemed to pursue the
youthful sufferer. Scarcely had he attained his
fourteenth year, when his mother, who had long
been in a declining state, breathed her last.
Thus, at an early age, when it is most important
to bend the incipient passions to their proper
objects, and to accustom them eaidy to conti'ol, —
at an age when so much may be done tow^ards
forming the future character, was lie deprived of
both his guardians. These were the only reflec-
tions which seriously disturbed the death-bed
hours of his mother. She would not loave-him,
indeed, in want ; but who was to watch over his
growing years — to conduct him, with honor and
propriety, to manhood? "My brother," she
■would say, " was ever generous and noble, — ^he
once loved me : and though he, in some measm-e,
disowned our little circle, because I prefen-ed
happiness to splendor, he never used me unkind-
ly : surely he will not refuse the dying request
of an only and once dear sister. He will not, he
cannot deny protection to her orphan child,whom,
as the last act of her mortal existence, she rec-
ommends to his care." Accordingly, she traced,
with trembling hands, a few lines to the count.
"Juan, my child," said she, to her son, a few
hours before her death, *^ when you have laid me
by the side of my honored father, bear this letter
to Spain, to your uncle, tlie Count de Zamillo ;
and, as you have ever been obedient to me, be
eqiially submissive to what your uncle may de-
termine : he is noble and generous, endeavor to
meet his approbation, as you w"ould have labored
to deserve my esteem."
The Count de Zamillo was one evening seated
in the apartment where he usually spent that
portion of the day with lola and her aged gov-
erness, when he was informed that a youthful
stranger wished to be introduced. Juan — for it
was he, dressed in the deepest mourning, tall
and slender, yet elegant in person, his dark
locks curling in profusion round a countenance
sweet, indeed, in its expression, but still retain-
ing the strong impress of secret sorrow — then
advanced, and presented his mother's letter. A
sti-uggle between pride and feeling seemed for a
moment to agitate the mind of the count ; but
the kindlier affections soon obtained the mastery,
and he folded liis nephew to his bosom.
Juan had not long been established an inmate
in the family of his new protector, when he be-
came a general favorite. In the handsome youth,
the count beheld the image of a long-lost and
beloved sister ; and in admiring his noble and
generous disposition, he almost forgot the imagi-
nary stigma derived from his father's plebeian
birth. To the aged friend of his fair cousin,
Juan rendered himself no less agreeable, by the
respectful manner in which he was ever solicit-
ous to pay tliose attentions to which her years
and her sex entitled her — attentions not less ac-
ceptable, that circumstances no longer enabled
her to command them : respect is ever valued in
proportion as it is voluntarily shown, and doubly
grateful, in adverse fortune, to those whose un-
doubted right it once "was.
Between the youthful cousins an intimacy still
more close was soon established, and cemented
by the equality of age — by the agreement of taste
— and, in some measure, by the similarity of
their pursuits. While Juan followed his severer
studies with ardent application, under a learned
monk of a neighboring monaster^'-, he was not
neglectful of more elegant accomplishments, the
principles of which lie had acquired from the in-
struction of his excellent mother : these were
now prosecuted in company i;\ith lola: thus in-
cited, he found himself capable of exeilions hith-
erto unknown, or deemed unattainable. The
books which they perused, tlie languages which
they studied, the poets which they read together,
possessed charms not to be discovered in their
sohtary and divided pursuits. Never did music
breatlie sounds so meltingly sweet — scarcely,
indeed, was there harmony to them, when tliey
played not in accompaniment to each other ; but,
above all, their walks, amid the beautiful and
romantic scenery surrounding the castle, consti-
tuted the most delicious moments of theii* ex-
istence.
Juau being fully two years older than his
cousin, and the age of the count, as also of lola's
instinictress, being such as leads to prefer repose,
the youth was taught to consider himself as the
protector of the young and lovely bein*- who
climg to him for support. It was, in truth, a
sight capable of awakening the deepest interest
in their future fate, to beliold two beings so
young, so beautiful, so pm*e, regarding each
other with looks of unutterable affection ; each
beholding in the other all that was necessary to
the happiness of both, yet unconscious whence
these feelings spmng, save from the connection
of mere relationship.
Years thus flew rapidly away, unmarked in
their flight, and both the cousins were approach-
ing to that mature age when conscious nature
takes the alarm, yet leaves the bosom ignorant
of the cause of fear, and uncertain of its own
feelings. A warmer blush suffused the cheek of
lola when pressed by the lips of Juan, in com-
mendation of some sentiment which she had ut-
tered, or observation she had made ; and she dared
not as hitherto, yet knew not why, return his ca-
resses. Again, when the hand of his fair cousin
pressed affectionately, or by accident, that of the
youth, a thrilling sensation pervaded his whole
frame ; so sweet, yet so powerful, he hardly
knew whether to court or to fear its indulgence :
in short both felt, without knowing it, that most
delightful of all passions, a first, an early love —
a state of felicity in whicii the human breast can
be placed but once, and which is perhaps the
purest, the most unalloyed enjoyment wliich it
is, in this life, destined to feci.
But such happiness must be transitory. Juan
was the first to discover the state of his mind,
and to perceive his danger : external circum-
stances, indeed, forced this knowledge upon him,
as the flash amidst the darkness of night may
disclose to the mariner the ripple on those break-
ers of which be slumbered in forge tf nine ss. He
started at this discovery, as if an abyss had opened
at his feet ; and the reflections which natm-ally
arose on the occasion, filled his mind with anxiety
and regret. He wished to be gone, yet knew not
how to mention the subject to the count. Eor
the present,, he could only temporize, without
resolving on anything but to conceal his inten-
tions from both lola and from her father.
Circumstances, however, produced a crisis
sooner than was anticipated. The melancholy
and restraint now visible in the deportment of
Juan, could not escape the observation of his
cousin, whose penetration was rendered acute by
the state of her o^vn heart. One evening, while
seated in a small summer-house, which, standing
on a romantic steep near the extremity of the
grounds suiTounding the castle, usually termina-
ted their walks, the cousins were insensibly be-
trayed into a conversation, which disclosed to
each other their mutual love.
" But, my dear lola," continued Juan, on hear-
ing tlie sweet confession, " I must leave Zamillo ;
both prudence and duty dictate my departure.
Your father will never consent to our union, and
I cannot think for a moment of betraying the
confidence of my benefactor, or your peace of
mind. I am not worthy of you ; I should then
be less so. When you no longer daily sec me,
your bosom will recover its wonted serenity."
"Juan, cruel Juan !" replied lola; "do yon
indeed ^ish to break my heart 1 Alas! how
can I, even were it my desire, forget you ? Have
I not, for many happy years, been taught to love
you as a brother? Wretched greatness! why
should I not forsake all ? Let me go with you
to Italy ; your parents were happy there — happy
m each other; can we not be so likewise ■? Ah !
what have I said ? miserable that I am ! do I
forget the duty which a father, a generous and
indulgent father, claims V
She bm-st into tears, and, covering her face
with lier hands, wept bitterly; then resuming, in
a calm and sulidued tone of voice :
"Juan, you are right; duty and pnidence de-
maud our separation ; obtain your uncle's appro-
bation of your future plans, and the sooner you
leave Zamillo the better for us both."
A long silence was only interrupted by the
opening of the door of a small oratory attached
to the summer-house, from which the count en-
tered. Induced by the beauty of the evening, he
had, contrary to his usual custom, extended his
walk so far ; and while engaged in his devotions,
the youthful cousins entered the summer-house,
and thus he had been made an unmlling Ustener
to their conversation. The trembling lovers now
concluded themselves lost, and fiilling on their
knees before the count, each wished only to im-
plore that his resentment would spare the otlier.
What, then, was their surprise when, looking
with the kindest expression on both, the count
addressed them :
" Else, my children, and in each other receive
the reward of your virtue and of your filial piety.
Cherish those sentiments which have hitherto
directed your conduct. Juan, in this trembling
hand which I now place in thine, accept the only
precious gift which I have to bestow. Rank,
birth, and wealth are to he valued when, by our
station in life, w^e have to maintain the dignity
and the importance of a name, which has de-
scended unsullied to us from illustrious ances-
tors. Wealth I dispense with- Birth you can
claim, at least on one side ; rank you may obtain
by merit. You are as yet an unkno^vn youth ;
go, and prove to the world that my choice is
wai-ranted by nobility of soul ; in the ranks of
honor acquire reno^m. You arc both young ;
after a few years' seiwice you may with propriety
return to Zamillo, and to lola !"
Sui-prise and astonishment kept Juan silent ;
he could only kiss the hand which he still held,
and press that of his benefactor to his heai-t.
And when, a few years afterward, the war so re-
moi"sely prosecuted by the Erencb in Spain was
brought to a termination, the kind-heaited Count
de Zamillo had tlie satisfaction of witnessing
within the sacred precincts of that same little
oratory where he first learned the secret of their
young hearts' affection — the nuptials of JuAJf
AND lOLA.
TEST OF TEMPER.
In the sixteenth century, it was a custom
among the most illustrious Goths and Swedes,
when they would honestly many their daugh-
ters, to prove the disposition of the suitors that
came to them, and to know their passions, espe-
cially by plajnng with them at tables or chess ;
for at these games their anger, love, peevishness,
covetousncss, dullness, idleness, and the amount
of their fortunes, were to be seen ; so that it
could be ascertained how they could endure the
evil, the good, and the varieties of life.
How slow the time
To the warm soul, that, in the very instant
It forms, would execute a great design ! — 77ioinson.
120
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A SERIES OF PICTORIAL VIEWS OF QUINCY, MASSACHUSETTS.
assurance that that power would recognize the
indcpendeneo of the United States. In 1785,
Mr. Adams was appointed the first minister to
the court of St. James. After remaining in Eu-
rope nine years, he returned to hi.s native coun-
try, and in 1789 was elected first Vice President
of the United States, which office he held during
the whole of Washington's administration. On
the resignation of Washington, in 1797, Mr. Ad-
ams became President of the United States,
which office he sustained until the election of Mr.
Jcffi:;rson, in 1801. Soon after tJiis, Mr. Adama
retired to his farm in Qtiincy, and spent the re-
mainder of an eventful life in rural occupations,
the pleasures of domestic retirement, and those
enjoyments which a great and good mind always
has in store.
In the first engraving the house on the right
with a ligjitning rod attached, rcprescnLs the
place where John Adams, the elder President,
was bom. These two houses are situated near
the foot of Penn's Hill, in Quincy. Quincy was
the first resting-place of the Adams family, as
they came out from the Old World. Henry Ad-
ams was their progenitor, in this country. The
epitaph on his monument, raised by President
Adams, senior, in the Quincy burial-yard, is as
follows : *' He took his flight from the dragon
persecution in Devonshire, England, and alight-
ed, with eight sons, near Mount Wollaston
[Quincy.] One of the sons retunied to England ;
and after taking time to explore the country four
removed to Medficld and the neighboring towns ;
two to Chelmsford ; one only, Joseph, remained
here, and was an original proprietor in the town-
ship of Braintree [that part of it now incorpora-
ted as Quincy]." This Joseph Adams had a son
Joseph, who was the father of John Adams the
President.
Our second engraving represents the hou&e
and lands known as the Adams Scat. The latter
years of John Adams's life were passed in this
house, and there he died. The remarkable cir-
cumstance of his death, and that of his copatriot
and friend, Thomas JefTerson, on the fiftieth an-
niversary of our national independence, is well
known. Having lived to a glorious old age, he
was called hence on the very day which above all
days he would have chosen — that which his ex-
ertions had done so much to render, in his own
words, " a great and a good day." He died at
six o'clock in the afternoon of the fourth of July,
1826, in the ninety-first year of his age. Anti-
quarians, who look upon the engraving, may be
pleased to discern the chamber in which he ex-
pired. It was the front middle chamber, whose
windows are shaded by the chestnut tree. His
remains lie entombed beneath the stone church
which his munificence endowed, which stands
within sight of the house, and in the interior of
which is a monument to his memory, and a
marble bust of him, both executed in Italy by our
native sculptor, Greenough. At his death the es-
tate passed into the hands of John Quincy Ad-
ams, the son of the venerable President, and
upon his death, descended to, and is now occu-
pied as the residence of Hon. Charles Francis
Adams, the son of the latter.
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS S BIIITIIPLACE, AT QUINCY, MASS.
ADAMS* KEMINISCENCES.
The engravings on this and the opposite page
were drawn for us on the spot designated, by our
artist, Mr. Mallort), and represent some most in-
teresting scenes iu the town of Quincy, Massa-
chusetts. Quincy lies eight miles south by east
from Boston, and ten east from Dedham, and
there is perhaps no town in the State, of its dis-
tance from Boston, that has risen to greater
prosperity than Quincy. It has long been the
centre of considerable trade and manufacture,
and its excellent roads, with its heaRtiful loca-
tion on Boston harbor, have made it the chosen
residence of many people of taste and affluence ;
but now, wlien Quincy has become united to
Boston by the Old Colony Railroad, as closely
in point of convenience, as Boston and Charles-
town, no one can doubt the rapid increase of
population and wealth of this delightful town.
Two presidents of the United States, father and
son, were natives of this place. John Adams,
born October 19, 1735. John Quincy Adams,
born July 11, 1767. The senior Mr. Adams
graduated at Harvard University in 1755, and
was distinguished for his diligence and genius.
He studied law at Worcester, and was admitted
to practice in 1758. Pie commenced the labors
of his profession in Braintree, his native town,
and soon obtained business and reputation. In
1764, Mr. Adams married Miss Abigail Smith,
a grand- daughter of Colonel Quincy, a lady as
distinguished for her accomplishments and vir-
tues as for the elevated station in society which
Providence had destined her to fill. Mrs. Ad-
ams died at Quincy, December, 28, 1818, aged
seventy-four. In 1765, Mr. Adams removed to
Boston ; here he obtained an extensive legal
practice, and, refusing all offers of patronage
from the British government, espoused the cause
of his native country with an ardor peculiar to
himself, firmly resolved to sink or swim with its
liberties. He was elected amember of Congress,
and was among the foremost in recommending
the adoption of an independent government. In
1777, Mr. Adams was chosen commissioner to
the court of Versailles. In 1779, he was ap-
pointed minister plenipotentiary to negotiate a
peace and a commercial treaty with Great Brit-
ain. In 1780, he went ambassador to PloUand,
and in 1782, to Paris, to negotiate a treaty of
peace with Great Britain, having received the
VIEW Oi)' THE /VDiUVIS' MANSION; AT QUINCY.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
121
The third picture ot
the series is that of the
granite church, situated
in the middle of the to^\-n .
This house of public
worship, for the Cono:re-
gational society in Quin-
cy, was erected in 1827.
The former church was
of wood, and was built
in 1732; and afterwards
enlarged. It is built of
stone taken from the
granite quan-ies in that
town, presented by Hon.
John Adams. The Kev.
Peter Whitney, pastor
of the church in that
place, made a suitable
address when the corner
stone was laid. A plate
with an appropriate in-
scription was deposited
under the comer stone,
in a lead box. Among
other facts, it mentions
that John Quincy Ad-
ams was then President
of the United States ;
that the population of
the town was two thou-
sand, and that of the
United States thirteen
millions. In his address
on the occasion, Mr.
Whitney said : "In con-
formity to the wishes of
the great benefactor of
Its and of our country,
the late President Ad-
_ ams, we are now erect-
ing a temple for the wor-
ship of that incompre-
hensible Being, whom
the heaven of heavens
cannot contain. When
ages after ages shall
have passed away, when
all now living on earth,
and successive genera-
tions for centuries to
come, shall have finished
their probation.and gone
to the unseen and eter-
nal world, these walls of
granite we are about to
erect will stand, we trust,
among the recollections
of time, a monument of
the interest we felt for
the worship of God, and
for the accommodation of our successors on the
stage of life, till the stones themselves of which
it is constructed shall be crumbling into dust.
In this temple, when completed, may the truth,
as it is in Jesus, be preached in all its purity and
simplicity. Here may the prayers of devout and
humble souls ascend with acceptance to the throne
of everlasting mercy. And here may that faith,
which looks beyond things seen and temporal,
to those which are unseen and eternal ; which
directs the aspirations of the soul to the presence
and enjoyment of God in heaven, be animated
and confirmed. Our hearts rejoice in the con-
templation of the increasing virtue and wisdom
of the world ; and we offer our prayers to God,
that ice may so finish our course on earth as to
enter on oiir immortal destiny with qualifications
for ceaseless progress in goodness."
In this connection, it may not be unin-
teresting to give some account of the in-
troduction of Mr. Adams, the elder, to
George III, at the court of St. James, as
the first minister from the rebel colonies.
The whole account is very interesting.
Mr. Adams says: "At one o'clock, on
Wednesday, the first of June, 1785, fhe
master of ceremonies called at my house,
and went with me to the secretary of state's
office, in Cleveland Row, where the Marquis
of Carmarthen received and introduced me
to Mr. Frazier, his under secretary, who
had been, as his lordship said, uninterrupt-
edly in that office through all the changes
in administration for thirty years. After
a short conversation, Lord Carmarthen
invited me to go with him in his coach to
court. When we an-ived in the ante-cham-
ber the master of the ceremonies introduced
him and attended me while the secretary
of state went to take the commands of the
king. While I stood in this place, where
it seems all ministers stand upon such oc-
casions, always attended by the master of
ceremonies, the room was very full of min-
isters of state, bishops, and all other sorts
of courtiers, as well as the next room,
which is the king's bed-chamber. You may
well suppose I was the focus of all eyes.
I was relieved, however, from the embar-
rassment of it, by the Swedish and Dutch
ministers, who came to me and entertained
me with a very agreeable conversation
during the whole time. Some other gen-
tlemen whom I had seen before, came to
make their comphments to me, until the
Marquis of Carmarthen returned, and de-
sired me to go tvith him to his majesty. I
went with his lordship through the levee
room, into the king's closet. The door
was shut, and I was left with his majesty
and the secretary of state alone. I made
three reverences ; one at the door, another
about half way, and another before the
presence, according to the usage established
at this and all the northern courts of Eu-
THE ADAMS TEMPLE, AT QUINCY.
ropo, and then I addressed myself to his majesty
in the following words : ' Sire : the United States
have a]q)ointcd me minister plenipotentiary to
your majesty, and have directed mc to deliver to
your majesty this letter, which contains the evi-
dence of it. It is in obedience to their express
commands, that I have the honor to assure your
majesty of their unanimous disposition and de-
sire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal in-
tercourse between your majesty's subjects and
their citizens, and of tlxeir best wishes for your
majesty's health and happiness, and for that of
your family. The appointment of a minister
from the United States to your majesty's court
will form an epoch in the history of England and
America. I think myself more fortunate than
all my fellow-citizens, in having the distinguished
honor to be the first to stand in your majesty's
royal presence in a diplomatic character; and I
shall esteem myself the happiest of men if I can
be instrumental in recommending my country
more and more to your majesty's royal benevo-
lence, and of restoring an entire esteem, confi-
dence, and affection ; or, in better words, " the
old good nature and the good old humor," be-
tween people who, though separated by an ocean,
and under different governments, have the same
language, a similar religion, a kindred blood. I
beg your majesty's permission to add, that al-
though I have sometimes before been instructed
by my country, it was never in my whole life in
a manner so agreeable to myself.'
" The king listened to every word I said, with
dignity, it is true, but with apparent emotion.
AVhcther it was my visible agitation, for I felt
more than I could express, that touched him, I
TOMB OF EX-PRESIDENT JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
cannot say ; but he was
much atFocted, and an-
swered me with more
tremor than 1 had spok-
en with, and said : 'Sir:
the circumstances of this
audience are so extraor-
dinary, the language you
have now held is so ex-
ti'emely proper, and the
feelings you have discov-
ered so justly adapted
to the occasion, that I
not only receive with
pleasure the assurance
of the friendly disposi-
tion of the United States,
hut that I am glad the
choice has fallen upon
you to be their minister.
I wish you, sir, to believe,
and that it may be under-
stood in America, that I
have done nothing in the
late contest liut what I
thought myself indispen-
sably bound to do, by
the duty which I owed
my people. I will be
frank with you. I was
the last to conform to
the separation ; but the
separation having be-
come inevitable, 1 have
always said, as I now
say, that I would be the
first to meet the fi'iend-
ship of the United States
as an independent pow-
er. The moment I see
such sentiments and lan-
guage as yours prevail,
and a disposition to give
this country the prefer-
ence, that moment I
shall say — let the cir-
cumstance of language,
religion, and blood, have
their natural full effect.'
"I dare not say that
these were the king's
precise words ; and it is
even possible that I may
have, in some particu-
lars, mistaken his mean-
ing ; for although his
~ pronunciation is as dis-
tinct as I ever heard, he
hesitated sometimes be-
tween members of the
same period. He was,
indeed, much affected, and I was not less so, and
therefore I cannot be certain that I was so atten-
tive, heard so clearly, and understood so per-
fectly, as to be confident of all his words, or sense.
This I do say, that the foregoing is his majesty's
meaning, as I then understood it, and his o^vn
words, as nearly as I can recollect them. The
king then asked me whether I came last from
Prance ; and upon my answering in the affirma-
tive, he put on an air of familiarity, and, smil-
ing, or rather, laughing, said, ' There is an opin-
ion among some people that you are not the
most attached of all your countiymen to the
manners of France.' I was surprised at this,
because I thought it an indiscretion, and a de-
scent from his dignity. I was a little embar-
rassed ; but determined not to deny the truth on
the one hand, nor lead him to infer from it any
attachment to England, on the other, I
threw off as much gravity as I could, and
assumed an air of gaiety, and one of de-
cision, as far as was decent, and said,
' That opinion, sir, is not mistaken ; I must
avow to your majesty, I have no attach-
ment but to my own country.' The king
replied as quick as lightning, * An honest
man will never have any other.' The king
then said a word or two to the secretary
of state, which being between them, I did
not hear, and then turned round and bowed
to me, as is customary with all kings and
princes when they give the signal to retire.
I retreated, stepping backwards, as is the
etiquette ; and making my last reverence
at the door of the chamber, I went to my
caiTiage.' "
The scene of the above interview would
form a noble picture, highly honorable both
to his majesty and the republican minister.
Here stood the stern monarch who had ex-
pended more than six hundred millions of
dollars, and the lives of two hundred thou-
sand of his subjects in a vain attempt to
subjugate freemen ; and by his side stood
the man, who, in the language of Jeffer-
son, "was the great pillar of support to
the declaration of independence, and its
ablest advocate and champion on the floor
of Congress."
As it regards John Quincy Adams, the
second president of tlie Adamses, his long
and honorable political career is familiar
to all, and it is but a very brief period
since he passed from among us ; we need
hardly, therefore, refer in detail to the
" old man eloquent." He is a part of the
record and history of these times, and his
venerable appearance and tenacious adhe-
rence to what he conceived to be right
have rendered him a distinctive feature of
his day and generation.
The fourth engraving gives us a repre-
sentation of the tomb where the duster the
Adams family reposes ; it is situated op-
posite the church, across the main road.
122
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
[Written for Glciison's rictoviiil.]
THE PllAYER OF THE MARINER'S WIFE.
BY ROnERT a. STAPLES.
'T was In tho oarly flumnior time, the bright and twinkling
Htars
Bont on tho earth their co)tI, sad gazo, from tho deep bluo
afar;
Tho vapory clouds of sllvory gray lightly passed ahoon
Tho hcavonH, and from the onstern verge arose tho pooi-less
moon ;
All nature clothed in majesty, looked forth na from tho
nkiofl,
There dropped tho sweet, refreshing dew on llowers of
varied dyes.
'Twafl at thi.s dreamy hour she sat and viewed the rolling
surge,
Which madly beat the i-oek-bound cllfffl upon old ocean's
verge ;
A eilont prayer escaped the slightly parted lips, on high
To tho all-sccing God, and echoed through the chambered
sky,
Till angels and archangels caught and swelled tho welcome
tone
Tlirough every silent vault, and bore it to the Father's
throne.
Sho asked that he, tho parent of her darling infant boy
(^Vhose" curls moved gently aa vesper Avinds did with them
toy),
Might brave the dangerous pei-ils of the billowy main,
Tlirough mercy's pleading voice be spared, to bless them
yet again ;
When lightnings flash, and the deep sepulchral thunders
roll,
Might he but safely ride tho storm God governs by con-
trol.
Long was the prayer breathed from the deeps of that sor-
rowing heart,
And midnight came ere from the cold and rocky cliffs she 'd
part;
But when she rose a holy calm had seated on her brow,
Sho was resigned to fate, e'en to the ehiistcning rod to
bow.
Storms rose and passed, and months rolled by upon time's
rapid wing,
Winter, with its frosts and snows came on, and birds
refused to sing ;
The leaves lay seared and crisped, all seemed so desolate
and wild.
The mother's soul had fled from earth, and left an orphan
child
In stranger's hands, to bear life's ills and stem the waves
alone,
Without a parent's wai'mng voice, a mother's gentle tone ;
Low in the ocean's mountain surge the mariner found
rest,
Where the dark, green waves, aye rolling, form the grave
above his breast.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE YOUNG HUSBAND:
— OK —
HEARTS' HISTORIES.
BY JMKS. S. M. HUMPHKET.
" But while be gazes with surprise,
The cbarm dissolves, the vision djes,
'Twas but enchanted gi-ound."
The bride of a week was seated in her ele-
gant lounging chau", robed in costly magnifi-
cence. A hand of exquisite beauty, richly jew-
elled, toyed with tlie floating curls of dark luxu-
riant hair, which had half concealed a neck of
alabaster whiteness, and faultless proportions.
The dark eyes might have been too dazzling in
their brightness but for the chastening influence
of the long silken lashes, and one might almost
fancy that the dimpling, rose-tinged cheek be-
longed to some cherub child, instead of a bride.
A gleam of satisfaction beamed from the thought-
ful eye of Henry Wilton, as he contemplated the
figure and face of his peerlessly beautiful wife,
and pressing her rosy fingers to his lips, and en-
circling her waist with his arm, lie gently drew
her to the window, murmuring :
" Helen, you have not observed my rai-e ex-
otics— or yours, I should have said — for this, the
rarest and most beautiful of them all, was ob-
tained on our bridal day expressly for you."
" Thank you — you are very kind," replied
Helen, with a hurried glanee at the favorite
plant. Then in a more earnest tone, she added :
"But, Henry, dearest, we shall be late," and
she playfully held her watch before his eyes.
"Then you do not love flowers'?" pursued
Hcmy; and Helen failed to notice the sadness
of his tone.
" Why no — that i.s, I like them in a consprva-
tory, where they appear to advantage ; but in a
drawing-room or parlor they are troublesome,
besides being unfashionable."
" I will have them removed to-moirow morn-
ing," said Henry, quickly; aud this time Helen
perceived something like bitterness in his tones,
and as quickly -replied :
" 0, no, Henry! — not for world.s, if you like
Ihcm ! But never mind tlio flowers j it is time
we were going. The entertainment will bo tho
finest of the round ; and given, as it is, in honor
of our bridal, I do not caro to lose a moment of
such rare happiness."
" Rare happiness," responded Henry, as lie
released tho strugglingly little hand; and with
something like a shadow resting on his heart, ho
hastened to prepare himself for the occasion.
The truth was, Henry Wilton had no taste for
sucli extravagant revelry, and was really anxious
for the time to arrive, when lie might with pro-
jn-iety spend a whole evening with his wife. He
had also imagined that Helen was as weary as
himself, and quite as desirous of exchanging
this gay dissipation for uninterrupted compan-
ionship with her chosen companion, at the fire-
side of their own quiet home. But no, Helen
Wiis gay and thoughtless. Strange that Henry
had not seen this ; and not very strange, either
■ — for he was a worshipper at the shrine of beau-
ty, and in person, slie had fully realized the
ideal of his imagination ; and dazried by her
witching charms, his ardent fancy had endowed
her with all the mental graces, and hastily and
unhesitatingly he had given lier his heart and
hand.
This first pang experienced by the young hus-
band was soon forgotten ; and as he witnessed
the enthusiastic admiration with which lier
beauty and vivacity infused ever}' beliolder, he
felt that slie was but a child, and reproached
himself with ingratitude and injustice towards
her, who had bestowed on him the whole wealth
of such unparalleled beauty.
"Yes, Henry is very happy, to-night," thought
Mary Vernon, as she witnessed the pride and
tenderness with which he regarded his young
bride. "May it always be thus. And yet, it
cannot be ! Even now, I am oppressed with
the consciousness that that ambitious spirit will
get tired of the simple-minded child, ^vhose all
of earthly happiness is committed to his keep-
ing. Genius may slumber for a season, and
like a soul in dreams forget itself; but that slum-
ber shall but invigorate its strength and pride,
and it shall awake to curse, in very bitterness of
soul, the mysterious lethargy that induced a
dream so fatal to its proud aspirings. But why
am I thus oppressed when he is so happy ?
Why! can a sister be iudifferent to a brother's
fate 1 Nay ; and well it is that I have never felt
aught save a sister's interest in him."
Mary Vernon was sincere in this last asser-
tion ; but she did not fully understand her own
feelings — feelings which her native pride had
long been struggling to subdue. To admit for a
single moment that she loved or had ever loved
Henry Wilton, was far too humiliating to a
spirit like hers. And yet, such was the fact.
From early childhood they had been friends.
" Through many tlicmes in many thoughts had
they held exalted converse," for Mary, though
feminine and gentle as her own sweet name, was
scarcely less intellectual than Heniy, nor had
she cultivated less assiduously the high trust in
her keeping. She had understood the heart of
Henry better than her o-\vn — better than he had
done ; and well she knew how necessary to his
happiness, nay, to his being, was kindred com-
panionship. She had heard him speak in glow-
ing terms of Helen's beautj' — ^just such terms as
he often applied to a favorite flower, or pet bird
— and she had supposed that she shared his love
equally with birds and flowers. When, to her
complete astonishment, he had wedded her, she
saw at a glanee that both must be miserable ;
that like a bird or flower he would soon cast her
aside, and seek to forget his folly and disap-
pointment in an utter abandonment of self to his
darling pursuits.
It may appear strange to my reader, that
years of companionship with one so superior as
Mary, had produced no lasting impression on
the heart of Wilton. To her want of pei-sonal
beauty alone can this be attributed. A thonsand
times had he been almost impelled to yield his
aflcctions to her keeping, and often had he
owned that he was never fully blest except when
with her. " But then," he would say, " Mary is
so plain," and the world echoed, " Mary Ver-
non is so plain." His own figure was imposing,
his features were faultless, his manners winning
and graceful. How could he wed one devoid of
beauty — one who was everywhere accounted so
plain ? It had cost him a great struggle to re-
nounce her, but tlie beauty of Helen liad decided
the contest. Now Mary greeted him as warmly
as in other days.
When, with otliers, «he had expressed a desire
that blessings miglit rest ujion him in his new
relation, he had looked vainly for something, in
tone or expression, that might tell of a wounded
heart. Though somewhat humbled, he was
glad ; for ho was far too generous to desire aifec-
tion which he might not requite, Iiowever much
her preference would have flattered him.
Again, Henry is alone with his wife. The
soft moonlight stole through the thin, graceful
window drapery, and the balmy evening air
toyed with the curls of Helen, and gently raised
the damp hair from the high, thoughtful bi'ow of
Henry, whose breathings seemed almost hushed,
as he contemplated the solemn beauty of even-
ing. Softened and spiritualized, ho turned to
Helen, who was standing near him bathed in the
moonlight, and drawing her fair young head to
his bosom, he murmured :
" 0, who can resist the soothing Influence of
such a peaceful scene ? Do you not sometimes
feel, Helen, as though the dark veil that hides
the present from the etemal future was drawn
aside, and you were lent a dim foreshadowing of
the emotions of a spirit released from earth's de-
basing cares and passions. At sucli moments,
how cold seem our common emotions ; and in
taking a cursory view of our usual pursuits, how
strangely grovelling and infatuated we appear."
Henry pressed Helen more closely to him, and
again relapsed into silence.
" Wliat a strange man you arc, Henry !" said
Helen, with an air of restlessness. " Here I
have been waiting this whole hour for you to or-
der lights brought in, and I have tried to be
very patient. I have heard tell of people being
moonstm'ck, and I suppose that is what ails you
to-night. Cousin Fred will soon be here to play
backgammon with me. There, he is ringing
now. I will take him to the back parlor that I
may not disturb your ^editations. Good-by,"
and the gay girl kissed his hand, and with a
merry laugh, bounded from the apartment.
Thus was the veil of which Henry had spoken
darkly dra\\'Ti between him and the spiritual
world. The scene of beauty was the s.ame, but
all had faded from bis view — moon, star and
sky. Untuned were the delicate heart strings
that but now had vibrated to the music of unseen
spirits. Those heart strings had been touched
— yet all innocently and unconsciously — by too
i-ude a hand.
A deep bitter groan escaped him, and he im-
pulsively exclaimed : " And such is my wife ;
mine, hopelessly mine, for life. With her, ever,
yet ever alone. Incapable of receiving blessing
from her, and, alas, incapable of rendering her
blest. Poor Helen ! it is well that thou art a
child. Pleased with a toy, thou canst forget;
but woe to my proud, imperious soul. Ah,
Mary Vernon, thine was tho beautiful casket,
hers the beautiful frame. But why should I
murmur ; I alone have done tliis wrong. I
sought thee, Helen, whom all were seeking. To
thee ray vows are given, and every principle
of justice and honor forbid that I should cherish
the image of another. Forgive me, wife, I will
forget, and be true to thee."
From that time he lavished on her every in-
dulgence, gratified, to the full extent, her extrav-
agant love for costly and beautiful apparel, car-
riage and servants were ever in attendance, and
slie went and came at pleasure. He was seldom
with her in public, and she, surrounded with ad-
mirers, seldom urged his attendance. He occu-
pied most of his time in high mental pursuits,
and when his worn spirit required recreation, he
resorted to his flute or pleasure grounds. At
times he would awaken to the consideration that
the course pursued by each was but widening
the distance between them, and then lie would
endeavor to cheek his inordinate thirst for .sci-
ence, and come down, somewhat, to Helen's
childlike views of life. He would school himself
to attend her in her gaieties, with the hope that
he might gain some influence over her, and, by
elevating her ideas, induce her to seek something
beyond the approbation and admiration of the
crowd. Thus he hoped eventually, to mn her,
in a measure, to himself.
His attentions were received with the same
graceful, joyous, matter-of-course manner, which
was bestowed on each of her many admirers ;
and when Henry, utterly fatigued with the
round of gaieties in which she led him, entreated
her to indulge him with a song, or li.'^tcn to his
flute, with a languid, spiritless air, she would
comply, till suddenly recollecting some engage-
ment slie would bound away, leaving him alone,
to speculate sadly upon the utter hopelessness of
the case. Again, when his enthusiastic nature
was kindling with admiration of some favorite
author, while with his rich melodious voice he
read aloud to her, in tlic very mid^t of a most
thrilllTig passage, she would perchance recollect
a magnificent dress pattern she had seen at
Stuart's, which she had Itccn prevented purelnu^-
ing by iin inadequate amount of funds—" ]Iad
she not better go at once and secure the prize?"
Henry would check the feeling of disgust or dis-
appointment which swelled his heart, and with a
deep sigh, and a pleasant " Yes, love, If you de-
sire it," would hasten to forget his own utter
desolation in tlie burning words of his author.
Mary Vernon was not long in discerning a
change in Henry, and her heart throbbed with
anxious solicitude, as she saw the tCTider spirit
of melancholy which now seemed to dwell ever
with him. His pale brow was paler and loftier,
and his fonn was dally becoming thinner and
more graceful. Though she saw that his sensi-
tive spirit was pining for sympathy, she felt that
it would be both vain and indctieatc for her to
attempt consolation. But if she could only
awaken Helen to a just view of her position,
and inspire her young and perhaps susceptible
heart with an appreciation of Henry's worth,
she would at once see that she was sacrificing
time and happiness for a shadow, and would
gladly return to the bosom of her natural pro-
tector, and the sweet dove of domestic bliss
might yet nestle in that beautiful home. She
felt that only this was wanting to restore to
Henry his natural happy buoyancy of spirit, and
that this alone could save Helen from utter ruin.
With a hopeful heart she resolved to make the
effort. Could Henry have pictured all his vain
struggles, she would have been less sanguine,
and her disappointment would consequently
have been less severe. Helen had studied and
practised the science of etiquette too long to ad-
mit of an open repulse of Mary's delicate offers
of friendship, but quite unable to comprehend
the depths of her passionate and noble nature,
she secretly thought her only a homely old maid-
enish bookworm. Why she should desire her
friendship, she could not see, for she was very
sure that she was not at all like her. Everybody
called Miss Venion agreeable — and she didn't
know but she might be so — but she was sure she
could never teach her to love to pull dirty weeds
from among the flowers, or take long tiresome
walks, talking forever about the hills and trees^
the moon and stars and what not. If she would
dress with elegance and promenade Broadway,
she would not be so tedious ; and as to staying
in doors with her, that was entirely out of the
question. True, she sung and played divinely,
waltzed and sketched, and all that, but then, she
never created any sensation; and bow could she
expect to — she was so quiet and unobtrusive in
the presence of gentlemen.
A deeper insight of Helen's character, mind
and attainments, served to increase Mary's sym-
pathy for Heni-y, and render more discouraging
to her view tho task she had assigned herself.
How could she interest her ^ There was evi-
dently no foundation upon which to build. No
wonder that the gushing tide of tenderness in
Henry's bosom had been driven coldly back
upon itself. No wonder that ho was joyless, and
hopeless.
But a change — and one that the parties little
dreamed of — was at hand. Hervey Balcombe,
one of Henry's college -classmates, had returned
from a continental tour. Hervey's was a giant
intellect, and but for Henry, the ambitious youth
would have graduated with the highest honors.
Consequently, he had imbibed a secret, yet deep
and lasting hatred for his rival, and he had re-
turned with the malignant feeling still horning
at his heart. Helen, with the spirit of coqiietry
which had actuated her oven in her girlhood —
or childhood, we might say, as she had not then
entered her teens — had fiirted with Hci-vey, who
had been captivated by her uncommon beauty,
and they had even exchanged miniatures, rings,
and otlier pledges of constancy. As Helen grew
older, she naturally came to look upon the en-
gagement as remarkable only for its extreme
folly; and though the remembrance sometimes
provoked a smile, she thought it an incident not
worth naming to Henry, as they had not corres-
ponded by letter during his absence. Quite as
easily, doubtless, would Helen's image have
faded from the heart of Hervey, had he not re-
turned, to find her in the full pride of womanly
beauty, the centre of attraction, courted and ca-
ressed by the majority of his former circle, each
of which, ho imagined, envied Ills hated rival
the possession of such a prize.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPA^^I()N.
123
This served to iacreasc his liatrcd to an alarm-
ing^ extent, and the spirit of envy was ever
whispering to his heart : " Revenge ! revenge !"
When he saw Henry — which was seldom — he
saw, or imagined, a smile of triumph, which
drove him almost to frenzy. Each expression of
his coimtenance seemed to his excited imagina-
tion to say : " Know, Hervey Balcombe, that I
have rivalled you in the winning of collegiate
honors, and in love." Could the mournful
heart of Henry have been laid bare to his view,
how different would have been his emotions.
But, alas, when wc give the rein to any one of
the lower passions, how swiftly it dashes on,
trampling to ruins beneath its iron feet, each ves-
tige of judgment aad reason, and with it the faint-
est shadow of heaven-born compassion or love.
Hervey Balcombe must have revenge ; and re-
venge he gained. He left no means untried to
win again the heart of Helen ; for only dirough
her could he see any chance of crushing his
rival. His dark, handsome face and noble fig-
ure would favorably impress a casual obsen'er,
and Helen was quite charmed with the foreign
air which foreign travel had given him. But
beneath his fascinating smile, there lurked an
expression calculated to impress an experienced
physiognomist with disti'ust; and tliough Henry
knew nothing of the deep hatred he bore him,
he felt a strange repugnance for his society, and
an uneasy feeling stole over him, whenever he
witnessed his polite attentions to Helen — though
perhaps they were not more frequent or peculiar
than she habitually received from other sources.
Mary Vernon secretly shared his uneasiness ;
for circumstances plainly showed to her watchful
eye, that Hervey had succeeded in awakening
quite an unusual interest in Helen's simple
heart. She sought, by many a little stratagem,
to detain her from him, but vainly, and at length
she ventured to remonstrate, tenderly, but plain-
ly, with her. Helen listened to her words of
truth and kindness, without seeing the generous
purpose of her heart, and she saw her fast falling
tears unmoved. "With a cheek flashed with in-
dignation, she bade her leave her presence, and
never again intrude upon one whom she had so
grossly insulted.
The indignation of Helen did not serve to
quiet the fears of Mary ; and since she was for-
bid all personal communication, she determined
secretly to mark her movements.
One evening, when Henry was alone in his
study, he was surprised by an earnest tap at his
door. He hastily threw it open, and before him
stood the ti-embling fonn of Mary Vernon. Her
cheek was almost bloodless, and her quivering
lip vainly essayed to speak,
" 0, Mary," cried Hem*y, as he advanced to
her support, " what fearful tidings do you bear V
"Balcombe and Helen — pursue them — fly
quickly ! I left them in the garden ; and at the
entrance a carriage is in waiting !"
Henry, distressed and bewildered, looked to
Mary for an explanation, but she only said, im-
ploringly :
" Haste ! haste ! Enough that what I tell you
is true ! They vriil soon be beyond your reach !"
Henry hastened to the spot, and there was the
can'iage, but Helen and Balcombe were not in
sight. With an air of assumed composure, ho
commanded the driver to leave his grounds
quickly. Such peremptory orders, from one
evidently accustomed to command, intimidated
the man, and he hastily obeyed. Presently,
Henry heard low, earnest voices :
" Indeed, dear Hervey, I am sick to-night.
Will to-morrow answer our purpose as well ?
Perhaps then I shall be better."
" No, my angel Helen ! I cannot live without
you another moment ! But, heavens ! where is
the carriage V
" Villain ! traitor !" cried Henry. " You are
discovered !"
" O, Hervey, Hervey !" gasped Helen, and she
sunk senseless to the ground. Henry hastened
to her assistance, and her companion, without
uttering a word, took this opportunity to make a
speedy escape.
Henry tenderly bore the inanimate form of his
wife to the house, where Mary — who was await-
ing the result with anxious solicitude — assisted
him in his efforts for her recovery. One faintin -
fit succeeded another, and before morning she
was attacked by a violent brain fever. All that
medical skill and eager friends could devise for
her relief, seemed vain, and her sufferings were
intense. During her short intervals of reason,
she entreated Mary to remain with her while she
lived, which she was conscious would be but a
little time.
In grateful accents she would whisper : " You
will not leave me, unworthy as I am, you are so
forgiving, so good. There is no touch so tender
as 3-ours, and nobody but you can pity me now.
You told me all this, Mary, if I had only lis-
tened. But I was fascinated — I was mad ! This
alone has not killed me. As Henry said, I have
sacrificed my life in one constant round of dissi-
pation. How he entreated me to be kind to my-
self, even if I was resolved to neglect him. He
did not say this ; no, he never reproached me — ■
but then he felt it all. Henry, your kindness
will kill me ! When you told rac that my health
was evidently declining, I knew it, I felt it,
daily ; but I wilfully refused to be guided by
yoiu: discretion, and only sought more earnestly
to forget all, in a wilder pursuit of pleasure.
Wliy do you not accuse me, spurn me, instead
of standing by my bedside, weeping so bitterly,
and watching the ingrate day and night so ten-
derly."
Day by day served to increase her alarming
symptoms, and soon the poor victim of fashion
was no more. Sadly Heniy gazed upon tlie
wasted but still beautiful clay before him.
Mournfully he laid her in her last quiet resting-
place, only soothed by the reflection that her last
hours had given evidence of penitence, deep and
sincere.
Now, though Henry was scarce less alone than
in fonner days, his home seemed mournful as
the tomb. Every apartment seemed only to re-
mind him of the gay, beautiful young being,
whom, but a few years since, he had so proudly
brought thither. Instead of her light footfall,
he could only hear his own dull, heavy ti-ead ;
and the laughing eyes that looked from the por-
trait on the wall, distracted him with memories
of her untimely fate. TherC were no recollec-
tions of heart-communings which might soothe
his loneliness, and he hastened from a spot
where all was shrouded in gloom.
Years passed, and he returned. He was sur-
prised to find Mary — whom he had never ceased
to regard with reverence bordering on idolati'y —
still young, apparently, still cheerful, but un-
wedded. He talked of loneliness, of the joys
they had shared in earlier days, of the bliss to
be found in exalted companionship of kindred
spirits. But in vain. Though Maiy acknowl-
edged that the past had made an indelible im-
pression on Iier heart, she was contented to re-
main unmanied. She had been supremely hap-
py in his society — lo^'ing him as a sister loves a
brother, listening to the teachings of a mind so
exalted and stored with wisdom ; and still she
would be a sister to him, still listen and learn of
him.
Henry, in reviewing the past, felt the justice
of her decision, and acquiesced; and, though the
joys derived from such friendship were less va-
ried, they were more peaceful and heartfelt than
those of theit earlier days.
[■Written for Gleasou's Tictorial.]
LINES
TTRITTEX OX A VOLUME OF GLE\SON"S PICTORIAX.
BT B. J. HOWE.
To guide whose hand the sister arts combine,
To trace the poet's or the painter's line.
English Bards and Scotch jReviewers.
I have read with delight in these pages outspread,
The far flight of genius, the triumph of truth ;
The fervor of feeliug, whoee strength has ne'er fled.
The hopes and the buoyant affections of youth.
Here fancy has all her bright colors combined,
A magical charm to this volume to lend ;
And oft has it been to my heart and my mind.
In the still hour of night a " Companion " and friend.
Its splendid engravings the eye will enchain,
As o'er them it lingers, their beauties to learn ;
And, pleased with the tales its fair pages contain,
Full oft to its treasures I gladly return.
LABOR HONORABLE.
The man who is able to work and does not, is
to be pitied as well as despised. He knows
nothing of sweet sleep and pleasant dreams.
He is a miserable drone, and eats a substance he
does not earn. Perhaps he thinks it is not gen-
teel to work. His kind of gentility is the most
worthless and contemptible of all gentility. Had
not those before him, near or remote, toiled
hard, the degenerate son or daughter would be
compelled to earn their bread instead of being a
bogus aristocracy upon property they never
earned. One generation labors hard to accumu-
late dollai's and cents, for a generation of sim-
pletons to squander. — Journal.
Commerce has set the mark of selfishness
The signet of its all-enslai'ing power,
Upon a shining ore, and called it gold, — Shelley.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A SONG OF SUflL'ttER.
BT JOSEPH H. BDTLER.
Once more, my wild and simple IjTe,
I touch thy plaintive string ;
And with unequal, tuneless voice,
Kc turning summer sing.
Fast on the wings of fleeting time,
Dark winter flies afar ;
The sun-god, throned in glorious light.
Now guides his flaming car.
0 come, my love, and stray ^vith me,
Along yon flowery dale,
And charm me with thy gentle voice,
In some romantic tale.
There, as we rove the vales along,
I '11 pluck the springing flower.
And for thy hair I '11 weave a wreath.
In some secjuestered bower.
Sweet shall the garland be I '11 weave,
While her I love is by ; —
The blue within the violet's boU
Shall imitate thine eye.
And never will I leave thy smile.
While life informs this breast, —
The rugged paths our steps shall tread,
Lead to some place of rest.
Then come, my love, and stray with me,
Along the vale afar,
And sing thy favorite song so sweet.
Unto thy loved guitar.
1 '11 whisper words of coming joy,
To cheer thy gentle heart ;
Life's wintry storms may rage, but fail
Our fiiitbful souls to part.
< .»a^ I
ROBIN REDBREAST.
Those unaccustomed to observe the manners
of the lower world might be incredulous of the
sensibility and confidence which they acquire
from the kindness of their human superior. In
a garden at Brodic there were several which had
become the companions of the gardener; but, as
usual in all communities, one more amiable and
intelligent than the rest. When the old man
was at work he never left him, but perched be-
side him, examining every spadeful of earth
which he threw up, often hopping into the trench
under the uplifted spade, which its master was
obliged to suspend till he had gathered the grub
or chrysalis for which he had descended. If the
old man paused to speak, the bird would perch
upon one side of his spade, while his foot rested
upon the other. But in the gai'den of a lady,
illustrious for her talents and love of nature, we
have seen more remarkable examples of inti-
macy and confidence. Familiarized by her gen-
tleness, and attracted by tlie little dole with
which she always met them, they have become
so much the companions of her walks that they
wait for her in the paths, perched on a bough,
and singing till she approaches, when they drop
at her feet, and pick the crumbs from her hand ;
sit on the handle of her little flower-basket, or
the edge of her parasol, watching all her mo-
tions ; and when they have received their frugal
meal — for they arc very abstemious, never taking
more than four or five crumbs at a time — they
return to the tree, and sing till she retires. —
Inverness Courier.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO THE ABSENT ONE.
BT C. H. CRISWELL.
WTien shall I see thee, cherished one, when ?
Am I doomed ne'er to behold thee again?
Long have I waited in sorrow alone,
Long have I waited to greet thee, mine own ;
Dark disappointment hath shaded my heart.
And tears from its fountains continually start.
I see thee not now, love, I hear not thy voice.
Whose low tones of fondness once made me rejoice ;
I feel not thy kisses, so ardent and sweet.
Thy soft, loving glances I cannot now meet.
0, where art thou roving? why art thou not here?
I 'm weary with watching, when wilt thou appear?
The cold night is dreary, the dark hours are sad.
How can I bo cheerful t how can I be glad ?
Bright hopes are fast fading ; soon cometh despair.
Were I sure of thy safety, I 'd feel less of care ;
But no 1 I am pining in sadness for thee —
0 where art thou roving? 0 where canst thou he?
SOUND ADVICE.
" Know," said Sir "W. Raleigh to his son,
" that flatterers are the worst kind of traitors,
for they will strengthen thy imperfections, en-
courage thee in all evils, correct thee in nothing,
but so shadow and paint thy follies and vices, as
thou shalt never, by their will, discover good
from evil, or vice from virtue. And because all
men are apt to flatter themselves, to entertain
the addition of other men's praises is most peril-
ous. If thy friends be of better quality than
thyself, thou mayest be sure of two things : first,
they will be more careful to keep thy counsel,
because they have more to lose than thou hast ;
second, they will esteem thee for thyself, and not
for that wliioh thou dost not possess."
When concession is inevitable, it is wise to
concede before necessity destroys both freedom
of thought aud dignity of movement.
LIVING IN QUIET.
A rule for living happily with others, is to
avoid having stock subjects of disputation. It
mostly happens, when people live much together,
that they come to have certain set topics, around
which, from frequent dispute, there is such a
growth of angry words, mortified vanitj', and the
like, that the original subject of diflference be-
comes a standing subject for quarrel ; and there
is a tendency in all minor disputes to drift do^vn
to it. Again : if people wish to live well to-
gether, they must not hold too much to logic, and
suppose that everything is to be settled by suffi-
cient reason. Dr. Johnson saw this clearly with
regard to married people, when he said :
" Wretched would be the pair above all names of
wretchedness, who should be doomed to adjust
by reason, every moraing, all the minute detail
of a domestic day." But the application should
he mucli more general than lie made it. There
is no time for such reasonings, and nothing that
is worth them And when we recollect how two
lawyers, or two politicians, can go on contend-
ing, and that there is no end of one-sided reason-
ing on any subject, wc shall not be sure that such
contention is the best mode for arri^'ing at truth.
But certainly it is not tlie way to amve at good
temper. — Friends in CounciL
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DAY FOLLOWETH DAY.
BY C.1R0L1NE A. HATDEN.
Day followeth day, in calm succession bearing
Its earthly record to the eternal throne ;
The same bright gem upon its bosom bearing,
That gaddened earth ere weary thought was known.
It treadeth on time's flying footsteps ever,
Chasing the gloomy hours of night away |
Enduring, changeless, disappointing never.
All else may change, but day still followeth day.
Its dawn is sure, and just as sure its closing ;
But 0, within it^ pages who may look !
For calm, or fair, or peacefully reposing,
Is it not still a sealed and hidden book?
Day followeth day, in calm succession wearing
Upon its breast our all of joy or woe ;
To some the bitter cup of sorrow bearing,
To others, happiness' sweet overflow.
We may not' lift the veil that shrouds to-morrow,
Sufficient is our knowledge of to-day ;
Bnt we of hope its rainbow tints may borrow,
To gild a future which cannot decay.
OLD AGE.
There is a quiet repose and steadiness about
the happiness of age, if the life has been well
spent. Its feebleness is not painful. The ner-
vous system has lost its acuteness. Even in ma-
ture years we feel that a burn, a scald, a cut is
more tolerable than it was in the sensitive period
of youth. The fear of approaching death, which,
in youth we imagine must cause inquietude to
the aged, is very seldom the source of much un-
easiness. We never like to hear the old regret-
ting the loss of then" youth. It is a sign that
they are not living their life aright. There are
duties and pleasures for every age, and the "wise
will follow them. They will neither regret the
loss of youth, nor afl^ect to be younger than they
are. When men, they will not dress as hoys,
nor compete with them. When matrons, or
matron-like maids, they will not (b'ess like girls.
When young women, they will not be childish,
and play pi])ing tunes by way of enchantment.
To be happy, we must be true to nature, and
caiiT- our age along with us. — HazHtt.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
WILD VIOLETS.
BY Wn.LIAM S. CnABE.
IIow bright they are 1 that azure band
Beside the shady wood ;
Clustered as though an angel's hand
Had joined the sisterhood !
So fair, and yet so frail they grow,
Beneath their sylvan bower,
That when the autumn's breezes blow,
They perish in an hour.
Each tiny banner, as it nods
Upon its slender stem,
Is fairer far than sceptre rod.
Or jewelled diadem ;
For man can ne'er, with cunning art,
Such loveliness enfold
In one small leaf; nor brush imp.irt
Such tints of blue and gold 1
Sweet emblems of a brighter world !
They meet us everywhere ;
And each sweet bud, again unfurled,
Ketums from year to year —
And whispers of that lasting love.
The angela only know,
As from the pure, bright land above,
They gay.e on earth below.
Two persons who have chosen each other out
of all the species, with a design to be each other's
mutual comfort and entertainment, have, in that
action, bound themselves to be good-humored,
affable, discreet, forgiving, patient and joyful,
with rcsjieet to each other'.s frailties and perfec-
tions, to the end of their lives — Addison.
124
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE NORTH A3rEUlCAN INDIANS.
On this page wc present three unique iind
graphic scenes of Indhin iilb and character.
Tlie first engraving, representing an Indian en-
campment, furnishes a view of tlic camp of tho
red warrior, decorated with grotesque figures and
representations. Tlieir eamps and wigwams are
the only spots associated with the domestic life
and hiihits of these nomadic tribes. But how
marked the contrast they now display, to that
time, wiien tho vast continent, now the abode of
civilization and tho arts, and where tho appli-
ances of industry, skill and taste have taken the
place of the rude methods of primitiYO life, from
sea to sea, was only peopled by the mere deni-
zens of the wood, who managed to draw from
nature barely sufficient to minister to tho suste-
nance of physical life. Those ancient lords of
our forests, who once roamed over our land in
undisputed possession, are fast disapjjcaring itc-
fore the onward march of civilization. They
arc so thoroughly the children of nature, that it
seems they cannot become blended with tlic race
which thrives in cities and lives by the extension
of manufactures and agriculture. They are the
modern types of the human family in its earliest
stage of existence. They arc the hunters of our
era, living only by the chase, and represent in
the nineteenth century of the Christian era the
modes of life followed by the earliest family of
man. Other races have, as they increased in
numbers, gradually ascended the second step to-
wards civilization, and pursued pastoral avoca-
tions ; and then again successive generations
have risen to agriculture and finally to com-
merce. But the red aborigines are exemplars
of another fate. As they were bom so are the
whole race dying oif from tiie face of the earth ;
as the axe fells the trees of the forest, and as the
deer and the buffalo shrink from the inroads of
the plough, the old sons of the wilderness fade
away and vanish in^their do^^iiward career.
«^»^^fo.-.
VIEW OF AN INDIAN ENCAMPJIENT.
M^\
AN INDIAN SCALP DANCE.
The third scene represents the well-knovm his-
torical incident of the rescue of Capt. Smith by
Pocahontas, the daughter of the powerful chief
Powhatan, by whom he had been sentenced to
death. To illustrate the picture we will revert
to the history. In the year 1607, John Smith
with one hundred and four persons emigrated to
Virginia, from England, under the first charter
for Virginia colony. They were kindly received
by the natives in tlie vicinity of Jamestown, who,
when informed of the wish of the strangers to
settle in the country, offered them as much land
as they wanted. Smith, by his judgment, in-
trepidity and skill, soon became an important
person in the colony, and an object of great in-
terest to the natives. Soon after their arrival.
Smith and some others ascended James River,
and visited the native chieftain Powhatan, at liis
principal residence near the present site of Rich-
mond. His subjects murmured at the intrusion
of the strangers into the country ; but Powhatan,
disguising his jealousy and fear, manifested a
friendly disposition towards tliem. Soon after,
dissensions began to occur among the principal
men of the colony, and to Smith was committed
the management of its affairs. Under his pru-
dent care, its condition rapidly improved, and
kept the Indians in awe. His active spirit led him
upon searches into the country, which fostered
the jealous fears of the natives ; on one of these
excursions, he was surprised by the Indians, and
taken prisoner. After being carried from village
to village, his fate was referred to Powhatan and
his council, and to the village of that chieftain he
was conducted. Here it was decided that he
should die. He was led to execution, and bis
head laid on a stone to receive the fatal blow,
when I'ocahontas, the young and favorite daugh-
ter of the king, rushed in between the victim and
the arm of the executioner, and with tears he-
^'ou^ht for his life. The savage chieftain relent-
ed, and Smith was set at liberty.
The second scene represents the scalp danco of
the Indians as it was enacted by the victorious
tribe after battle. Two belligerent tribes, sav-
agely bent on each other's destruction, are en-
gaged in preparation for the conflict. On a sud-
den, a shout is heard. We turn in the direction
from which it comes. It is not yet day. But
we gaze till the light of the morning reveals to
our alarmed sight a band of warriors, each armed
with a bow and quiver, a war club, and a lance,
engaged in battle with another band. The war
whoop and the battle cry resound on every side;
and the forest echoes them ! At one point, two
have met and cleached each other ; they are
bleeding; at another, one is down, and his an-
tagonist is just giving him the fatal blow with
the war club ; at another, we see, behind trees, a
dozen or more availing themselves of their dex-
terity in sending their arrows into their less
guarded and more exposed antagonists. Pre-
sently all is still. Then we hear murmurs — now
and then a shout. AVe look, and see coming in
the direction of our position, some hundred
warriors smeared with blood, with scalps dang-
ling from their fingers. We watch their move-
ments. They pa^s near us, follow the curvatures
of the shores, and then suddenly start into a
wood, and become lost to our sight. Presently
they re-appear, and we see them on a hill side
that slopes down to the bend of the river, moving
with stately step, and in Indian file. Just before
them is an Indian village. The wigwams are
cone-like in form, and covered with bark. A
shout is heard ; it is answered — when from these
wigwams come pouring out half-naked squaws,
children and dogs. They mingle in one dense
mass. Then a drum is heard. Now we see a
circle formed — the war flag is raised in its centre
— a song is chanted — a dance is seen. It is the
scalp dance ; one of the diabolical orgies of sav-
age life, and a frantic scene of savage revels.
RESCUE OF CAPTAIN SMITH, BY POCAHONTAS.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
125
Jf^l 1]
^.'L■-^,-l--v-~-■v^--^.■l.-~-. vi. ^ -.T. . ■_\. i,^j\. VX^-i.^^,^ --i_\, 1,1, ■!,■>, -i,-!. i,\.^\
FREDERICK GLEASON, Pkoprietor.
MATURIN M. EALLOU, Editor.
CONTKIV'TS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER.
" Silvia Mazzani, or the Tuscan Sisters," a story, by
Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.
" The Two Silk Dresses, or Aunt Hannah's Whim," a
story, by Mrs. M. E. Robinson.
" Travels in Palestine," No. 1, by Kev. F. "W. Holland.
" The Man of Taste," a sketch, by John K. Holmes.
" The Yellow Domino," a story, by H. Pelican,
" Anniversary of our Freedom," verses, by P. S. Lewis.
" Love," a poem, by Kenneth Sinclair.
" The Soul's Convoy," verses, by Wm. T. Hilsee.
*' Lines to Nature," by J. Alfohd.
"Blue-Eyed Clara," lines, by Scsan H. Elaisdell.
"My Last Moment," verses, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" Tribute to Longfellow," lines, by C. L. Porter.
" Cling to the Kock, boy," verses, by Mrs. S. CuRRlEE.
" Gootl-by," lines by Edwarb J. Handiboe.
ILLUSTEATIOlfS.
We shall present our readers with a very beautiful rep-
resentation of the Monument Cemetery, near Philadelphia.
It was dra^ra for us by our artist, Mr. Dcvercaux, upon
the spot.
A large picture, covering an entire page of the Pictorial,
representing a characteristic scene, entitled Mexicans on
the March, showing this peculiar people in war time and
in war costume.
A very interesting series of six engravings, covering one
page of the Pictorial, and representing the various stages
of the Potato Rot- First, the potato plant ; second, a
magnified view of a slice of ripe potato ; third, the blotches
on the potato leaf; fourth, the Botrytis Infestans, highly
magnified ; fifth, the diseased stem, natural size ; and sixth,
a section of the potato, shoeing the disease in progress.
A series of fine original views of Saratoga Springs, N.T.,
drawn by our artist, Mr, Ckapin, on the spot, representing
Congress Hall and Spring as it appeared in 1826. The
present United States Hotel, at Saratoga. A view of Sar-
atoga, embracing Stanwix, Union and Congress Halls. A
fine picture of High Hock, Empire and Iodine Springs,
One of the Congress Springs, as it now appears. Also, a
view of Saratoga Lake. Ail forming a very interesting
and timely series of pictures.
A fine picture, representing the annual Festival of the
Graziers, at Grenoble. A very interesting scene.
We shall give our readers an admirable likeness of the
Hon. Robert Kantoul, Jr., lately deceased in the city of
Washington, D. C.
A spirited and original view of the Loss of the United
States Itevenue Cutter Taney, in New York harbor, by a
white squall. Drawn by our artist, Mr. Wade.
A fine original view of the Encampment of the Fifth
Regiment of Artillery, First Brigade, as they appeared on
Boston Common, a few days since.
DEATH OF MR. RANTOUL.
The sudden demise of this gentleman, at
Washington, is the subjeet of general comment
in the community. Hon. Robert Eantoul was a
man of strong character, and remarkable men-
tal endowments. An eloquent pnblic speaker, a
sound lawyer, and a true-hearted and generous
man. Of course, in these remarks, we are not
endorsing Mr. Rantoul's political sentiments, as
we touch not, handle not, in these affairs. No
one can doubt that the death of guch a man, the
loss of such a mind, is a national calamity. It
is so beyond a doubt ; and as death hath now
unrobed his character of envy, we shall find
his political opponents will praise him. Next
week we shall present a likeness and biographi-
cal sketch of the deceased.
SPLINTERS.
.... Meagher, the Ii-ish patriot, has rendered
himself very popular in New York.
.... A regular line of steamers now runs be-
tween Boston and Philadelphia.
. Boston, notwithstanding the season, is
most remarkably healthy just now.
, . , . Look out for the great hen exhibition
soon, in the public garden, Boston.
.... We see that the sea serpent has gone to
California. Very natural.
.... The Batemen children, after a successful
season, are about to return to this country.
.... A great deal of ship building seems to
be going on just now at East Boston.
Another conspiracy to overthrow the gov-
ernment has lately been discovered in Havana.
The Boston Museum is again in the
"full tide of successful experiment."
Mr. Winthrop declines being the whig
candidate for governor of Massachusetts.
.... Our government are about to erect eight
lighthouses on the Pacific coast.
Congress is eating up the snug sum of
$2500 per day, and doing nothing !
The liquor law in Boston is a " dead let-
ter," neither more nor less.
Our thanks are due to Hon. Charles
Sumner for numerous public documents.
CONNECTED ILLUSTRATIONS.
We give in the present number a connected
series of illustrations relating to the Adams fam-
ily and the town of Quincy, which have been
drawn and engraved for us at considerable ex-
pense. As far as practicable we propose to con-
tinue these sets or series of connected views, as
in this way we can afford much more space for
letter-press and perfection of details in any sub-
ject presented. Our aim in this now widely cir-
culated and favorite journal is not simply to
make a paper that will sell, but we desire to pro-
duce, weekly, as our prospectus says, a jom-nal
that will be loved, respected, and sought after for
its combined excellences.
Parents and heads of femilies have only to
look mth a careful eye to our pages, to see what
a valuable source of amusement and instruction
the paper must be in any family circle. The
descriptive matter attached to our illusti-ations is
most carefully prepared, and from the most re-
liable som'ces, and each pictm'e is thus made
doubly valuable to the reader. There is much
theoretical learning to be acquii-ed by the young,
we are fully aware ; but for practical information
and useful knowledge, we think it would puzzle
a father to find a work at treble the cost of the
Pictorial, that would impart to his family one
half the pleasure, or real, desh*able intelligence
that this publication presents.
We educate and illustrate at the same time ;
we teach geography, for instance, not only by
words, but we fix it upon the mind by adducing
tangible evidences of localities, by a faithful pic-
ture of the places themselves. We introduce
great men to our readers, not alone in faithfully
written biography, but we give them a " coun-
terfeit presentment" of the individuals them-
selves, that assures tliem of the paan as well as
though they had pressed his hand and passed the
compliments of the day with him. We not only
relate the fearful caiasti'ophe of the burning of
the Henry Clay, for instance, but we give the
reader an exact view drawn upon the spot of the
accident as it occurred.
The same peculiarities may be observed as it
regards our illustrations relating to natural his-
tory— the birds of the air, and the fish of the
sea ; of botany, of men and manners all over the
world ; of foreign and domestic festivals, pageants,
reception scenes, and political gathermgs. In
short, we produce what we pretend to do — a
pictorial record of the times in which we live.
Pew persons can estimate now, how high a value
will be set upon complete sets of the Pictorial
in future years ; if they did, few would fail to
carefully preserve and bind the numbers.
NEW MECHANICAL POWER.
An ingenious mechanic at Brussels has lately
applied a new power to mechanics, from which
great results appear to be expected. This new
power is galvanism. Across a fly-wheel which
is to give motion to the machine, he has placed
a metallic bar, previously magnetized by a gal-
vanic pile, and within the attraction of two
very powerful magnets. The moment that the
bar arrives in a rotary course at the limit of
the attractive power, and where it would neces-
sarily stand still, the inventor, by the application
of galvanism, suddenly converts the attractive
into a repulsive power, which continues the mo-
tion in the same direction, and by these altera-
tions, well managed, the wheel acquii*es a rapid
rotation. The experiment is said to have been
completely successful, and the machine worked
for a whole hour.
A VALUABLE Map. — We have been availing
ourselves of the convenience of Williams' (firm
of Redding & Co.) Telegraph and Railroad Map
for some time past, without thanking the pub-
lisher for the copy he has sent us. It is a most
perfect, elaborate and useful map for all business
men, and also forms a handsome ornament for
the walls of the counting-house.
The most enterprising newspaper publisher that this or
any other country has ever produced is F. Gleason, Esq.,
the proprietor of the Drawing lioom Companion, the only
beautiful illustrated paper in America. If there is any
one particular trait that we admire in a man's character
at the present day, it is enterprise. Gleason, here is
our O^. — Boston Literary Museum.
Well answered. — A loquacious tailor asked
a Quaker in what fashion he would be measiued.
" In silence," was the solemn reply. Rather a
poser that !
Monumental. — About ten thousand dollars
have akeady been subscribed, in England, for a
monument to the poet, Moore.
THEATRICAL.
The drama has been at rather a low ebb in
Boston for the last few mouths. The Museum
has been taking a vacation, or rather its stock
company have ; the Howard has been occupied
by the Ravel troupe ; the National is re-building
since its destruction by fire ; and still a new thea-
tre is to be expected, we understand, on the site of
the old riding school in Mason street — an excel-
lent locality certainly. There is some consider-
able talk just now about town, as it regards the
ensuing theatrical season in Boston ; and some
good performers are partially announced, though
their names have not yet transpired. The How-
ard Athenceum is to be opened under a new
management, and to be entirely renovated and
improved. Among other things, we trust the
new lessee will not forget a scenic artist — a part
of the establishment of immense importance, yet
there has been no scenic artist at the Howard for
more than two years. By the way, speaking of
theatrical talent, says a cotemporary, what are
managers to depend upon the approachmg sea-
son in the way of stars ? Mrs. Mowatt is still on
^Q, tapis; but Miss Cushman and Miss Daven-
porf have left the American track. Forrest may
appear, and Brooke, who made a bad job with
the Astor Place, will he in the countiy. With
the exception of these, what have you, Mr.
Managers, to depend upon to support the legiti-
mate drama? Nothing; for even McKean Bu-
chanan is absent, and Mrs. Sinclair will not
draw a second time, as the novelty of her acting
has passed away. Even in England, at this
time, there are but very few who would, if im-
ported, create any excitement. There certainly
is rather a scanty crop of good perfonners upon
the stage in this country at present ; and so long
as the mere sticks tliat we have mainly had in
Boston for the last two seasons, hold the stage,
so long the boxes and parquet of the theatres
will be comparatively empty.
A NATURAL VINEYARD.
On the north-east of the Canadian, a river of
the west, which empties into the Arkansas, there
are ranges of low sand-hills, fringed with vines,
rising not more than a foot or eighteen inches
from the surface. These hillocks have been pro-
duced exclusively by the agency of the grape
vines arresting the sand as it was borne along by
the wind, till such quantities had been accumu-
lated as to bury every part of the plant except
the ends of the branches. These branches are
sometimes so loaded with fmit as to present
nothing to the eye but a series of clusters, so
closely arranged as to buiy every part of the
stem. The fx'uit of these vines has been said by
travellers to be incomparably finer than that of
any other, either native or exotic, which they
have ever met with in tlae United States. The
burying a great part of the trunk, with its larger
branches seems to produce an effect similar to
that of pruning. The unfolding of the leaves
and flowers, on the parts below the surface, is
thus prevented, while the protruding ends of the
branches enjoy an increased degree of light and
heat by reflection from the sand. The same
kind of vines in ordinary circumstances yield
grapes much less abundant in quantity,- and
much inferior in flavor.
A NEW Route. — Mr. Trautwine, the explor-
ing engineer, has brought to light an excellent
passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans,
by way of the river Atrato, in New Grenada, and
the Gulf of Darien.
A SINGULAR PACT.T-The American people
eat more butter than bread — at least the value of
the butter annually consumed is greater than the
value of the yearly supply of wheat.
Of questionable Utility. — We see it sta-
ted that the phonetic system of spelling has been
introduced into no less than fifty-three of the
public schools of Massachusetts.
Gleason't Pictorial.— This valuable illustrated sheet
needs no encomium for those acquainted with it ; it "is
above .all praise." llave you subscribed for it? If you
\vish a fine '■ picture gallery " at a trifling cost, a rich fund
of American literature — the combination of art and in-
tellect, subscribe forthwith for the Pictorial. — Christian
Freeman^ Boston.
Large Number. — There are now49I inmates
in Chai-lesto'ivn state prison. Of this number,
twenty are sentenced for life.
Maritime. — At Gloucester there is a fleet of
thirty or forty fishermen ready to sail, and await-
ing the settlement of the fishing troubles.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Stow, Mr. John Nelson to
Mips Augusta Ann Bird.
By Rev. Mr. Edmonds, Mr. Charles TV. Dodge, of Fanu-
ington. Me., to Miss Lucy Stephenson Cushing.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. Hiram Scagel t-o Mrs. Eleanor
Kobinson, both of Cambridge.
By Rev. Dr. Robertson, of New York, Dr. John V. De
Gr.isse, of N. Y., to Miss Cordelia L. Howard.
By Rev. Mr. Coobe, Mr. Isaac N. Parley to Miss Ruth
H. Keen.
By Rev. Mr. Cilley, Mr. Anthony Silver to Miss Nar-
cissa Constantia.
By Kev. Mr. Denison, Mr. Edwin Shackford to Miss
Ellen N. Kieruan, of Portsmouth, N. H.
At Cambridgeport, by Rev. Mr. Ware, Mr. John Noblo
Stinson. of Alfred, Me., to Miss Marie Louise Clark.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Smith, Mr. Charles H. Jelly to
Miss Mary E. Ingalls.
At Newburyport, by Kev. Mr. Fiske, Mr. William P.
George, of Pittsfield, N. H., to Miss Maria Chesley.
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Blanchard, Mr. Edward Harri-
son, of New Haven, Ct., to Miss Clara A. Emery.
At Milford, by Rev. Mr. Woodbury, Mr. J. H. Clement
to Miss Clara Erskine.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Gird wood, Mr. John H.
Lane to Miss Anna E. Richmond.
At North Adams, by A. A. Richmond, Esq., Mr. John
J. IvJng, of Sharon, to Mrs. Ehzabeth Pish.
At Portland, Me., by Rev. Mr. Weston, Mr. Benjamin
A. Richardson to Mrs. Mary Simpson.
At Albany, N. Y., by Rev. Mr. Parks, Mr. Alonzo D.
Nichols to Miss Sarah H. Achron, both of Rockland, Me.
In this city, M. Calvin P. Barker, 27 ; Mr. Samuel
B. Murray, 30 ; Mr. John D. Waters, 44 ; Mr. George
Twi£s, 47; Mr. John W. Tuttle, 2S.
At Oharlestown, Mrs. Louisa Porter, 48.
At Cambridgeport, Mrs. Caroline P. Niles, 23.
At West Roxbury, Mr. Egbert Draper, 78.J
At Medford, Mrs. Rebecca Cutter, 87.
At Yarmouth, Mrs. Susan Cogswell, 52.
At Maiden, Mr. Timothy Clapp, 76.
At Braintree, Mrs. Myra A. Willis, 35.
At Salem, Mrs. Keziah Evans, 65.
At Newburyport, Mrs. Elizabeth Haskell, 80.
At Essex, Mr. Zacheus Cogswell, 30.
At Rockport, Miss Sarah Jane Black, 16.
At Nantucket, Miss Mary Ann Hussey, 19.
At Springfield, Mr. John Dickinson, 37.
At Weston, Mr. Alfred W. Cook, 20.
At Northboro", Mrs, Ann D. Alien, 38.
At Provincetown, Hon. Stephen Halliard 45.
At Ashburnham, Mr. William Whitney 67
At South Scituate, Mrs. Irene S. Lapham 25.
At Lancaster, Mr. John Haskell, 71. '
At Watertown, Ct., Mrs. Rebecca Clark 80.
At Middleboro', Capt. Seth Howard, 74 '
At Newport, R. I., Hon. Theophilus Topham 70
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Mr. Asa B'. Mason, of Boston, 37.
At Bellville, N. J., Mr. Albert Robbins 18.
At Sacramento, Mr. John S. Hoyt, of Exeter N. H 24
At New York, Mr. Richard L. tioddard 48. ' ' ''
At New Orleans, Mr. James g. Peduzzi '2I
At Cohokia, Mo. , Mr. James Soper, of Dorchester, Ms., 42.
— AND —
LITEKAKT WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL
A Record of the beautiful and itseful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced ulth wit and humor. Eacli paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of tke world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the Ssh of the sea. It is
printed on fine eatin-surface p^per, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly- for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of readiag matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pag(
It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies,
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE VOLTTME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
INVAIIIABLT IS ADVAXCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the fir^t of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each,
[C/^ One copy of the Flag op our Union, and one copy
of the PicTOBiAL Dkawikg-Room Compakion, one yejir,
for S5 00.
\Cr' The Pictorial Drawing-Room Companion may bo
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tl-io
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
PubiUhcd every Saturday, by
P. GLEASON, BosTox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
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126
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Writtoii for Gk'iwou'H Pictorial.]
QUEEN LUNA.
Br OnARLES LKLAND PORTER.
Now hna tho loiidcm niylit Iicr labor '^jan,
And hrtiiKfl tho flrmiiniout witli twinkling lamps |
And av.v tho moon In fuU-orhed uplciidur rise,
(iucon of tho niTiony, Hitting in Htato,
All radiant with hor coronet of Htara.
Q'ho woary tmvoller, as onward HtiU
llo flpcods hJH Hteady courso, with upturned ojoa,
Upon hor cahn and jilacid fiieo, dolights
To gazo ; as BtiU ho journoys on, his homo,
With all its pleasing recolIoctionH, comos
Uncalled acrons his mind. A wanderer,
Porhapa o'er billows of the mighty deep,
I'auiiliar oft, in bin accustomed road,
With scenes of peril and of danger, still
The same mild moon, while he waa tempest- tossed.
Like ever faithful friend to him has been,
And whispering gently, through tlie lovely night,
Glad tidings of his wcll-remcm bored homo.
Or, where the cottage of the shepherd stands
Upon the mountain side, her gentle beams
Silver the verdant sod before his door ;
Or, through the window curtains peeping in,
Steal o'er tho features of tho slumbering babo
That sleeps so quiet in its cradle bed,
Unconscious of its watchful guardian's smiles.
Thus o'er the couches of a sleeping world
She moves her sceptre with a silent sway ;
Shine on, thou fair, imperial orb ! shine on !
And fill our hearts with hope, and joy, and peace ;
Keep vigil o'er U3 as thou e'er hafit done,
Scatter the clustering fears, and smile our griefs away.
[Translated from the German for Gleason'a Pictorial.]
THE MINER OF THE HARTZ.
A TRADITION OF THE KHIWE.
BY II. PELICAN.
Beyond all other mountains of the Blocks-
berg range, the wild solitudes of the Hartz have
been, from time immemorial, supposed to be tho
haunts of ghosts, elfins and spectres. The in-
habitants of this neighborhood are, for the most
part, miners and woodsmen, and are naturally
imbued with the local superstition. On many
occasions they have attributed to the power of
the elfins, those natural phenomena which they
have experienced during their subterranean la-
bors. The belief also prevails, that a tutelary
demon, of a most savage appearance, dwells in
the gloomy forests of the Hartz, colossal in
height, and his head ajipeared crowned with oak
leaves ; about his body there is bound a fiery
belt, and in his hand he carries an uprooted pine
tree.
Long ago this demon used to hold frequent
communications with the people in that district ;
he used often to meddle in their affairs, rather
for the purpose of doing them good than of in-
juring them. But it was observed that his kind-
ness generally turned unhappily to those who
were the recipients of it. The clergymen, in
long sermons, frequently exhorted their flocks to
cease holding any communication with him. It
happened that on one day, the preacher mounted
the pulpit in the church of Margenbrodt, for the
purpose of expatiating on the perversity of the
inhabitants, in still continuing to communicate
with fairies, and goblins, and demons, but in
particular with liim of the Hartz. These super-
stitious people laughed at the zeal with which
their venerable pastor held forth upon this point.
At last the heat of his discourse augmented in
proportion to the spirit of opposition which he
met ; but the congregation could not suffer that
a demon, who had been so peaceable for hun-
dreds of years, should be compared to Astaroth
and Beelzebub. The fear, also, of the demon
punishing them for listening to such sermons,
was added to the interest which they felt in him.
"A monkish babbler like him," they cried,
*' can say what he please.'? with impunity ; but
we, the inhabitants of this country, who remain
at the mercy of this insulted demon, we will be
the victims of his just indignation."
The peasants did not long restrain their re-
sentment; pelting him with stones, tliey hunted
the poor priest out of the parish, telling him to
go and preach to others against demons.
As three young charcoal-burners — who had
taken a part in the pursuit of the priest — were
returning homo to their cottage, the conversation
naturally turned upon the demon of tho Hartz,
and on their pastor's sermon. Max and George
Waldeck, agreeing that the priest's language
waJ4 indiscreet, maintained, nevcrtiielcss, that it
was very dangerou.s to have the sliglitest com-
munication with the demon, because he was
wicked, capricious and powerful, and all those
who had any communication with him always
experienced misfortune from it. Had he not
given to the galhint Clicvalier Syhert, the famous
black steed, with wliicli ho conquered all his
competitors at the grand tournament in Bremen?
Yos, but that courHcr j)hmged with Iiim down a
frightful precipice, from which nnin or liorse has
never come out. Did ho not impart to Dame
Gertrude Trodden some curious secrets, which
were soon after the cause of her being burned as
a sorceress, by tho command of the grand crimi-
nal judge of the electorate ?
But these proofs, and many others, which
George and Max related of the evil consequences
attendant on the gifts of the elfin, made no im-
pression on Martin Waldeck. Martin wag
young, daring and rash, and smiled at tho
timidity of his brothers.
"Cease," he said, "all this folly^ the demon
is a good and kind one. He lives among us as
a simple peasant; he frequents the rocks and
solitudes of the mountains, sometimes as a hunt-
er, and other times as a shepherd. But how can
this demon be so malicious as you say ? Wliat
power can he have over mortals, who make use
of his gifts without submitting themselves to his
will 1 The benefits and gifts of the spirit of the
Hartz cannot injure us ; it is the bad use which
we make of them, that does."
Max replied, that riches, badly acquired, could
never profit their possessor. Martin declared,
l^ositively, that the possession of all the treasures
in the Hartz Mountains would not be capable of
effecting the least change in his habit, manners
or character.
This conversation lasted until the brothers
reached their lowly hut, which was situated on
a height, in the neighborhood of Brockenberg.
They then, according to custom, arranged the
watches for the night ; for one of the brothers
kept guard, while the two others slept. In fact,
the burning of the charcoal required a continual
attention.
Max Waldeck, the eldest brother, had watched
about an hour, when he saw, suddenly, upon the
borders of the swamp opposite to the door of his
cottage, an Immense fire, around which numer-
ous figures danced in the most grotesque atti-
tudes. Max's first thought was to call George ;
but he could not awaken him without Martin
hearing. So, upon reflection, in spite of the ter-
ror with which this singular phantom filled him,
he resolved to watch alone. Besides, the strange
fire was gradually disappearing, and he was
then quite free from fear.
George did not delay in relieving Max, who
retired to bed without saying anything. The
vast fire again filled the valley, and the same
phantoms sun-ounded and danced through the
flames. George was more courageous than Max,
and resolved to cross the stream which separated
him from the marsh. Climbing up an eminence,
he approached near to where the fire was burn-
ing. Among the elfins that bustled about the
flames, he recognized the giant, covered with
hair and armed with a pine tree ; in a word, it
was the demon of the Hartz, such as the old
shepherds had described to him. Trembling
with fear, he commenced reciting the psalm
commencing with " Let all the angels praise
thee, O Lord !" which was looked on, in that
country, as a sovereign preservative against the
influence of bad spu'its. He turned his eyes
again towards where the fire had been burning,
but all bad disappeared. The valley was no
longer illuminated ; but by the pale rays of the
moon, George, in great terror, directed his
course to the place of this extraordinary scene,
but he found no trace of fire on the heath ;
neither the moss nor wild flowers were scorched
or faded — the branches of the oak which had ap-
peared enveloped in flVimes, were wet with the
night dew. George returned to the hut, and
reasoning the same way as Max, resolved to say
nothing ofwliat he bad seen, as he feared to
awaken the curiosity of Martin.
The night was far advanced when Martin's
watch camo on, and when well awake, his first
care was to examine the furnace. He saw, to
his great astonishment, that George had not at-
tended to it, and that the fire was out — we know
already why. Very much annoyed, he set about
lighting it, but it was useless. It became seri-
ous, for the poor fellows risked the loss of their
market next day. Mortified by this accident,
Martin had just decided to awaken Ids brothers,
when a gleam of brilliant light suddenly crossed
the windows of the cottage. His first idea was,
tliat the Muhelerhausers, bis rivals in trade, had
encroached upon his boundaries, and had come
to flteal hit) wood. But a moment's observation
was suflicicnt to convince him that the spectacle,
which was i)rcsented to his view, was a super-
natural plicnomcnon.
" Be these men or demons," said he, " I will
go and ask a fire-braiul from them, to light my
fire." Saying these words, lie took liis wild
boar lance and advanced towards the phantoms.
He soon crossed the stream, climbed tlic hill,
and approached sulliciently near this elfin gath-
ering to discern all the peculiarities of the demon
of the Hartz. For the first time in his life, he
shnddcrcd with fear; but summoning up imme-
diately his wavering courage, he advanced firmly
towards the fire. At each step he took, tho fig-
ures became more wild and extravagant in their
movements. In a moment he was in the midst
of them. They received him with manifesta-
tions of applause, and their tumultuous laughter
stung his very ears.
" Who are youl" cried the giant, in a voice
of thunder, and frowning gloomily.
" Martin Waldeck, a charcoal burner," he re-
plied; "and who are you, yourself?"
" The king of chaos and of mines," replied
the spectre ; " but why have you dared to pene-
trate our mysteries V
" I came here to get a fire-brand, in order to
light my fire," Waldeck answered boldly.
" Wiiat are the mysteries which you celebrate
here V
" The marriage of Hernaes and the black
dragon ; but take the fire-brand if you wish, and
depart, for no mortal can witness our festivities
with impunity."
Martin then stuck the point of his lance in a
large log, and regained his hut, amid the noise
of the mocking laughter of the phantoms. In
spite of liis teiTor, his first step was to relight
the furnace, by means of the burning log, which
he can'ied. Strange to say, in spite of all the
efforts which he made, this billet, at first all on
fire, went out without kindling the other wood.
Martin was excessively chagrined at this ; the
firo still burned on the hill, but those who had
surrounded it had disappeared. Waldeck
thought that the spectre was but trifling with
him. He resolved to undertake a new adven-
ture, and set out on his way to the hill. He ar-
rived, and without encountering any opposition,
he seized a second log of wood, and carried it
oflT as he did the first ; but still without being
able to kindle his fire. The case with which he
obtained the first two brands, increased his bold-
ness, and he returned for the third time and car-
ried away a great flaming billet. He had not
gone far, when he heard the voice of the elfin
crying aloud to him, not, on any account, to
have the temerity to venture back again. The
eftbrts which Martin made to light his furnace
with this last fire-brand, were just as useless as
the preceding. Exhausted with fatigue, he threw
himself on his bed of leaves, fully determined to
inform his brothers, the next day, of his strange
adventures.
Morning had scarcely appeared, when he was
awakened from a profound sleep, by loud cries
of joy and surprise. The first thing which Max
and George did on rising, was to look at the
condition of their furnace. While racking tho
cinders, they found throe metallic lumps, which
they knew to be pure gold. Their joy was a
little diminished, however, when Martin told
them by what means he had become master of
it. The others could not resist the temptation
of partaking in the prosperity of their brother.
Martin Waldeck soon took the title of head of
the family. He bought lands and woods, and
had a splendid mansion erected, and also, he
obtained letters of nobility, to the great scandal
and disgust of the ancient nobles. His courage
in war enabled hira to brave, at all times, the
jealousy which his sudden elevation, and the ar-
rogance of his manners, excited. But the evil
inclinations which poverty had repressed, now
developed themselves. In fine, Waldeck ren-
dered himself odious, not only to the nobles, but
also to bis inferiors, who su])portcd, with pain,
the insolence of a man who had sprung fi'om tlio
very dregs of the people. Tho manner in which
he had been enriched was heretofore a profound
secret, but by some chance it had transpired,
and already the clergy threatened him as a sor-
cerer. Surrounded by enemies, and tormented
on all sides, Martin Waldeck, or rather Baion
Waldeck, soon regretted his youthful poverty
and contentment, for envy and hatred were
around him everywhere. His courage never
abandoned him at any time ; in fact, on the
contrary, he appeared to court danger. But an
unforeseen event hastened his fall.
The reigning Duke of Brunswick having in-
vited, by proclamation, all the German nohlease
to a fiolcmn tournament, Martin Waldeck, cloth-
ed in brilliant armor, accompanied by his two
brotliors, and attended by a superb cortciic, had
the insolence to appear in the midst of the cava-
liers of tho province, and demanded permission
to enter the lists. This was looked on as tlie
height of pre8um]>tion. A thousand voices cried
out ; " We will not let this charcoal burner into
our ranks."
Enflamcd with passion, Martin drew hia
Bword, and overthrew the herald-at-arms, who
endeavored to prevent his entering the lists.
Swords were raised on all sides to avenge a
crime, at that time considered the most atrocious,
except high treaaon. Waldeck defended Iiimself
to desperation, but ho was made prisoner, and
condemned, by the judge of the tourney, to have
— according to custom — his right arm cut olF,
to lose his titles of nobility, and to be driven ig-
nominiously from tlio city. They despoiled him
of his armor, and Iiaving undergone his punish-
ment, he was delivered up to the populace, who
pursued him, heaping menaces, outrages and in-
sults on his devoted head. It was with the
greatest difficulty that tho brothers could drag
him forth from the bands of the mob ; they had
left him for dead. He lost so much blood, and
was in such a miserable condition, that it was
necessary to place him in a cart, and under him
they put some straw. Thus the Waldecks fled.
Scarcely had they reached the frontiers of
their native country, when they perceived in a
hollow road, situated between two mountains,
an old man, who advanced to meet them. But
shortly after, the limbs and size of this man in-
creased in bulk; his cloak fell from his shoul-
ders, and his pilgrim's staff was metamorphosed
into an enormous pine. In a word, the Demon
of the Hartz was presented to their eyes in all
his frightful apparel. When he was opposite to
the cart in which the sick man lay, he asked of
him, with an atrocious grin, if his fire-brands
had kindled his furnace. Martin was indignant
at these words, but could scarcely raise himself.
He pointed towards the spectre with a menacing
gesture ; but he disappeared, uttering a loud
mocking laugh, leaving the unfortunate Wal-
deck to struggle with death. Max and George,
being terrified, du-ected their course towards the
towers of a neighboring convent, which elevated
their tops above the dark pine forest by which
they were surrounded. At that place they were
charitably received by a monk with a long, ven-
erable beard, and in naked feet. Martin lived
just long enough to make a confession of his
life, and to receive absolution from the hands of
the very priest, whom long ago he had pelted
with stones in the village of Margenbrodt. His
three years of prosperity mysteriously con*es-
ponded with the three visits which he had made
to the elfin's bill.
The body of Wji-ldeck was interred within the
convent, and his two brothers assumed the habit
of the order. Both the miners and the woods-
men shun, even to this day, the ruins of the
CJiaieaii de Waldeck, for they suppose tliat it has
become the resort of elfins and evil spirits.
[Written for Gleofon's Pictorial,]
LINES
TO THE OBELISK EKONTING ST. PETERS, AT ROME
BT MART N. DEARBOEIf.
Thou mystic relic of the past,
In distant ages bom ;
They s!iy thou wast of ancient date,
In science's earliest mom ;
That sages wondered of thy years,
And bards thine honor eung.
Ere Rome or Romulus had been,
Or Thebes, herself, was young!
That Cambysca, of olden fame,
"With all hia heathen rage,
Refused to mar thy visage fair,
From reverence to its age.
Long enough hast thou been dumb !
0 speak, and let us know
Who formed thee for a deathless ftimo.
In ages long ago !
Didst thou behold the drenching hosts
Of Pharoah and his men?
And couldst thou boa-st of earlier days,
Of aucient honors then?
'Tis vain, thy mystery none can solve,
Thy years, there 's none can tell ;
But coming ages, like tho past.
May on thy memory dwell.
Most of our misfortunes aro more sni)portablG
than the comments of our friends upon them.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM C03IPANI0N.
127
FRAACIS JOSEPH.
The Emperor of Austria met with a lukewarm
reception in Hungary, Official accounts had it
otherwise. They made it out that the emperor
was greeted heartily by the Hungarians. One of
their relations was that the gentry and peasantry
uniformly refused payment for the horses fur-
nished the imperial cortege, and for all other ser-
vices ; but this is explained by the fact that no
charges were made, because those who tendered
services expected to get more from the voluntary
liberality of the emperor. In this they were dis-
appointed. Francis Joseph was stingy. In one
place he was coolly received, when the officials
accounted for it by the fact, that just as the cor-
tege approached, a hayrick was set on fire.
Upon the whole, the emperor was well treated,
but it was in the hope that his government would
do something for Hungary. In Pesth there is
much public indignation at the arrest of Madame
de Balogh, the wife of a physician, and one of
the most charitable women in Pesth. She is ac-
cused of having, some time ago, given shelter to
a Honved, who was capable of bearing arms.
She is looked on as the personification of piety
and charity.
SPAIN.
In Spain, the di\'isions of parties is very com-
plex— more so now than at any former period.
The Carlist party are subdivided into several fac-
tions. One section still believe Don Carlos the
rightful master of Spain ; another section have
taken the oaths of allegiance to Isabella ; but a
third faction are the regular h'hoys of the party,
by turns smugglers or brigands, peasants of the
mountain, half-savages, whom it is as impossible
to reconcile to peaceful citizenship as it is to
civilize the Indians. They are still fonnidable,
and on a favorable turn for them would make
trouble. The liberal party, it is represented, are
cut up, divided — without a leader whom they can
trust, without objects in which they are united.
A new cortes is just convened, from which much
is expected by the government, which is bent on
imposing new restrictions on the people as to
elections. It is said that if the cortes do not as-
sent to these restrictions, the government will
manage to get along without them.
THE FISHERIES.
The National Intelligencer says the British
government notified the American government
on the 7th of July of its intention to protect the
border fisheries, and of having sent vessels of
war to the Bay of Fundyfor that purpose. The
British raiuister at the same time informed Pres-
ident Fillmore that the British commanders of
vessels of war were specially enjoined to avoid
an interference with vessels of friendly powers,
except when violating existing treaties, and upon
all occasions to avoid giving cause for complaint.
The Intelligencer further says the Uuitcd States
government has given orders to send one of our
best vessels ii^to the disturbed region, to protect
Americans and inquire into abuses, and warn all
parties against invading special rights.
< ^B»^ »
Religious Peesecutiox in Italy. — Mi-, and
Mrs. Madai have been condemned, the former to
four years and ten months, the latter to three
years and ten months imprisonment in Florence,
for the crime of reading the Holy Scriptures in
their house, and teaching the Word of God with-
in the limits allowed by the constitution. Many
other persons were sentenced to banishment for
different terms for having listened to the teachings.
On a large Scale. — ^For the proper repre-
sentation of M. Julien's new opera, several enor-
mous dnims, three military bands — one of them
mounted, — a small regiment of cavalry, and vast
iiumliers of other auxiliaries, animate and inani-
mate, will be required. The opera vnW be pro-
duced as soon as tlicse obstreperous materials are
brought into stage harmony.
Musical. — Mr. Chickering has fitted up an
elegant and spacious saloon in his establishment
on Washington Street, which will sei-ve occasion-
ally for a concert room. It will hold three or
four hundred persons conveniently, and do ad-
mirably for chamber conceits.
ViLLANT. — ^Notwithstanding that half of Mon-
treal is in ashes, an attempt was made by incen-
diaries, lately, to fire the city. Only one house
was partially burnt.
A LITTLE TOO BAD. — Tcu ccuts IS the piice
paid by some furnishing stores in New York, for
making a shirt. O, philanthropy !
UlatJsiLic ^atljcriuigs.
The Henry Clay was a new boat, and valued
at 550,000. She was fully insured.
One hundred and fifty persons died in New
York, during the last twelve months, of delirium
tremens.
Four hundred and eighty-two passengers ar-
rived at San Francisco, on the 19th of June, by
the ship Monsoon, fi'om Hong Kong.
In a recent fight at St. Louis, between a party
of butchers, a man had both of his eyes cut out
with a knife. He died soon afterwards.
American schooner Coral, condemned for a
breach of the fishery treaty, has been sold at St.
John, N. B.
The collections in New York for the sufferers
by the Montreal fire amount to $16,240, of which
Si 5, 000 has already been remitted.
The city of Providence gives its sons and
daughters two evening promenade conceits each
week. The American Brass Band, one of the
best in New England, is employed.
Two or three more American fishing vessels
have been libelled in the vice admiralty couit at
St. John. There will be a chance for our navy
yet.
Chilian brig Cleutes was seized at Acapulco,
on the 16th of July, with her cargo — tn'o hun-
dred cases of contraband dry goods. She was
from Yamas, Gulf of Lower California.
Near Belfast, Me., are five sisters, whose uni-
ted ages amount to 444 years. They were born
in Belfast, daughters of John Brown, are all
manied, and have children, and grandchildren.
The line of telegraph from Halifax to Quebec
is now opened and in complete working order, a
wire having been carried across the St.Lawi-ence
at Caprouge.
There is a silk manufactory at Ne'svport, Ken-
tucky, which has been in operation for four years,
and manufactures cravats, handkerchiefs and
vestings.
An affray took place at Cohoes, lately, among
a lot of boatmen, in which one of them had his
head split open by an axe in the hands of a
canal-boat captain, killing him instantly.
Silas Carter, who was formerly a coachman in
the employ of General Washington, is now re-
siding in Bertie, Canada, ninety-six years old,
hale and hearty.
A large species of grasshopper is reported to
be injuring the crops on Long Island. They
have destroyed 3000 heads of cabbage on one
fai-m, with a large amount of grass, grain, pota-
toes, etc.
They have got up a new drink in New York.
It is called Cream Ale, and is described as a most
delicious mixtm'e of ice cream and lemonade —
cool, refreshing and palatable ; and, what is best
of all, without a particle of intoxication in it.
The Colonization Journal contains a list of
335 persons, who have been emancipated and
emigrated to Liberia since February, 1S51. The
number of owners who emancipated their slaves
is about 40.
" I believe that mine will be the fate of Abel,"
said a devoted wife to her husband, one day.
" How so ?" inquired the husband. "Because
Abel was killed by a club, and your club will
kill me if you continue to go to it every night,"
An Ii-ishman by the name of James Maher,
living at Koskonong, Wisconsin, murdered his
wife and child with a hoe. Wlien arrested, his
only ti'ouble was that he would be deprived of
tobacco in prison.
The pirates of Nos Mitzen, who murdered the
crew of the Queen of the West, from Dartmouth,
in this State, have fifteen of them been given up
to our people by their chief. They will be brought
to this country for trial.
To give a steamboat or a hotel the name of an
individual who has nothing in the world to en-
title him to the distinction but his money, is a
piece of toadyism unworthy the American char-
acter. «
The corner stone of the new Episcopal Church
at Nashville, recently laid, was removed by a
thief, and the articles there deposited, removed,
consisting of bible, prayer book, and $130 in
coins.
At Attleboro', William Wetherington, an
overseer in a color mill, had his arm caught in a
belt of the machinery, and jammed off just be-
low the elbow. The limb was amputated at the
shoulder.
James G. Maeder's opera of the " Peri ; or,
the Enchanted Fountain," is to be brought out
by Ml-. Marshall, at the Broadway, early in Oc-
tober, for the purpose of introducing to a New
York audience Miss Caroline Ritchings.
Sarah A. Griswold, aged 21 years, drowned
herself in the Connecticut River, at Weathers-
field, leaving this couplet :
'■ Don't give yoursolvea any concern :
I'm gone never to return,"
Gen. Benjamin Whiteman, a native of Penn-
sylvania, and an Ohio pioneer, died on the 1st
ult., at his residence near Clifton, Greene county,
in that State, in the 84th year of his age. lie
served in the old Indian wars under Harmer and
Wayne.
Grace Greenwood records the fact, that in the
EngHA'parish churches, prayers, thanksgivings
and appeals are made for and to " her most gra-
cious majesty " more frequently, and with as
much apparent reverence, as to the name of
Christ.
Jorcign iWisrcllann.
The Emperor Nicholas, of Russia, is 57 years
old.
The fasliionable London concerts are nearly
over for the season.
A German has laid a wager that he will swim
across the channel from Calais to Dover !
Four millions of manufactured goods are now
annually exported from Belfast to the United
States.
There are farmers in Devonshire, England,
who pay S2000 a year rent for their farms, who
cannot spell or write their own names.
Francisco and Rosina Madini, of Florence,
have been condemned to four years labor in the
galleys for having had a Bible in their possession.
The queen has granted a pension to Mr. John
Britton, the author of many works on English
architectural antiquities.
Changarnier was on his return to Munich, the
Austrian government having intimated that his
presence at Vienna was not desh'able.
At Bremen, two young ladies, M'Ues. Meyer
and Windermann, have just been imprisoned for
political writing.
The revenue of Great Britain for the quarter
ending July 5, showed an increase of £144,681,
compared with the same quarter last year.
The English papers occupy much space with
the biographies of our four presidential candidates,
and appear to take much interest in the result.
Mrs. Abbott Lawrence, wife of the American
Minister, and Miss Lawrence, have left their resi-
dence in Piccadilly for Paris, for a few days.
Mr. Lawrence will arrive in Boston in October.
The French government have started the pro-
ject of a railway bank, the chief feature of which
is to do away with brokers, and hand over their
lucrative fees to the exchequer.
Several persons were recently arrested in Lon-
don, charged with " christening " watches, or en-
graving on imitation watches the names of noted
makers, for the purpose of " doing " the pawn-
brokers.
Wlien Su- Stratford Canning took leave of the
sultan, his majesty was much affected, and pre-
sented Lady Redcliffe witli a /jan/ie of diamonds,
value £10,000; the sultana also gave her several
magnificent presents of jewels and shawls.
The Siecle and Union report that it is contem-
plated by Louis Napoleon to suppress all news-
papers in Paris, except the Moniteur (the gov-
ernment paper), which is to be considerably
reduced in price, so that all classes can pm'chase
it!
JJoker'a Subgct.
Saniis of ©olit.
.... Few words go to prove a fact.
.... Great minds are easy in prosperity and
quiet in adversity.
Self-indulgence takes many forms, and
we should bear in mind that there may be a sul-
len sensuality as well as a gay one.
.... A man who is not ashamed of himself,
need not be ashamed of his early condition in
life.
.... Never purchase love or friendship by
gifts ; when thus obtained, they are lost as soon
as you stop payment.
.... When God commands to take the trum-
pet and blow a dolorous or a jaiTing blast, it lies
not in man's will what he shall say, or what he
shall conceal. — Milton.
Say nothing respecting yourself, either
good, bad, or indifierent ; nothing good, for that
is vanity ; nothing bad, for that is affectation ;
nothing indifferent, for that is silly.
If rich men do not want to be pestered
with beggars, they should give the poor better
wages. It is not eccentricity that makes folks
take to cold potatoes, but want.
Our minds are like ill-hung vehicles :
when they have little to carry, they raise a pro-
digious clatter; when heavily laden, they neither
creak nor rumble.
So necessary is 'fun to the mind, that a
late philosopher says if you sliould build schools
without play-grounds, nobody would get beyond
short division in a life time.
One of the most important, but one of
the most difficult things for a powerful mind, is
to be its own master ; a pond may lay quiet in
a plain, but a lake wants mountains to compass
and hold it in.
Lady H. sTanhope records that Pitt had
more faith in a man who jested easily, than in
one who spoke and looked grave and weighty ;
for the first moved by some spring of his own
within ; but the latter might be only a bucki-am
cover well stufied with others' wisdom.
.... Have a care of evil thoughts. O, the
the mischief they have done in the world ! — Bad
thoughts come first, bad words follow after, and
bad deeds bring up the close. — Strive against
them. Watch against them. They prepare the
way for the enemy.
.... " Silence is often an answer," says an
Arabic proverb. How true it is, that when the
tongue of malice or anger fails to provoke a re-
ply, it reluctantly sheathes itself in chagrin and
shame. In many cases, no rebuke can be more
powerful than silence. There are men you can-
not touch more acutely than by letting them
alone most severely, as TheodoreHook express-
es it, when they vilify you.
" My tail is ended," as the tadpole said when
he turned into a bull frog.
" Circumstances alter cases," as the toper said,
on blundering into a printing-office the other day.
" I'm casting accounts," as the merchant said,
as he threw the ledger at his refractory clerk.
The scholar who pronounced the \\ord" Eu-
phrates " short instead of long, was wittily said
to have " abridged the river."
" Though lost to sight, to memory dear," a3
Jones said, when Brown ran off and left Jones to
pay his bill.
" Landlord," said an exquisite, " can yon en-
able me, from your cuUinary stores, to realize
the pleasure of a few dulcet murphies, rendered
innoxious by ingenious martyrdom V He want-
ed a potato baked.
A fellow in Texas has just invented a strength-
ening plaster which will enable you to "take up"
anything, from afourmonths* note to ahogshead
of sugar. A few in this market would meet with
a ready sale.
" My dear," said a smiling spouse to her other
half, a morning or two since, " I'm going a-shop-
ping ; I want a little change.'* " Pooh !" re-
sponded the ungallant man, " that would be no
change at all ! you go shopping every day."
An Irishman having a friend hung in this
country, WTOte to his friends, informing them
ttiat, after addressing a large meeting of citizens,
the scafibld on which he stood gave way, owing
to which he fell and broke his neck.
If you wanted to tell a man that another told
an untruth, what lady's name would you invoke?
'E-lies, sir ! The author of this immediately
started for New York, and is now on his way to
England, we believe.
A country surgeon, who was bald, was on a
visit to a friend's house, whose servant wore a
wig. After bantering with him a considerable
timflj the doctor said : " You see how bald I am,
and yet I don't wear a wig." "True, sir," re-
plied the servant ; " but an empty bai-n requires
no thatch."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2cl of the Pictorial Drawtno
KooM Companion elegantly bound in cloth, mth gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the flhape of a boot of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Event* all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLtlMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authoi-s, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
Per sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesjile
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUll UXIOA^
AS ELEGANT, MORAL AND KEFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devuted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
prtetic gems, and original priza tales, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In pohticR, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
nn immoriLl nature will exer be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOE THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CntCLB.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leadiiis: wcklij paprr in the United States, and its literary
content3araallowed,by the best judges, to be imsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the diiy,
dO condensed as to enable us to give the greatest poFSJble
amnunt of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to tha paper, thus offering the entire sheet, 'which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
othar weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO SirBSCRIBEES.
1 Bubscribcr, one year, -'32 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
Onecopy of the Flag of ouii Union, and oitecopy of the
Pictorial Drawing-Koom Companion, one year, for So 00.
[C/^ Invariably in advance.
SMb,scril>L-i-s or postmasters are requested to act tis agents,
and fonn clubs, on the above terms.
(H?" All orders should be addressed, POST PAID, to the
PUULISUER OF THE FL-A-Q OP OUR UNION.
%* The Flag can he obtained at any of the vejvspaper
dejwts in the United Slates, and of ne-wspaper carriers, at
roUK CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
PuULISUER AND PROPIUETOR, EoSTUN, MASS. '
128
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
GILBERT NOXJRSB,
CHIEF OF rOLICIC OF U08TON.
"Wo present our readers herewith a very iidmirahle
likeness of Gilbert NounsR, Esq., chief of polire
for this city. Jud^'ing from the expression of his
countenance, Mr. Noursc possesses all the refpiisito
qualities for the prompt and faithful discharge of the
peculiar dutics'of his olfice. He was born in Koyals-
ton, Massachusetts, in 1708, and is consequently 54
years of age. He has been coTinectcd for some years
with mercantile business at St. Louis, has belonged to
the common council of Boston, and more lately has
been connected with the agricultural Hrm of Kugglcs,
Noursc & Mason, one of his brothers still remaining
in the firm. Mr. Noursc is represented to be a cool,
but firm man, and is said to be well fitted by tempera-
ment and experience for the p03t he occupies. When
wc hoard of the removal of his predecessor, Marshal
Tukcy, we regretted it, because we considered him a
faithful and remarkably assiduous ofhcer, ever aide
and ready to do his duty on nil occasions. But wc
have no reason for doubting but that Mr. Nourse will
do liis duty, if not as well, at least to tlie best of his
ability. If the present incunpbent pleases, he can
make himself /(7/ more than any other man in Boston,
and be as publicly and as continually kept " before
the people," as any person in this city — the teiTor of
rogues, and the idol of honest pcoj^lc. The police
system of Europe is generally, we tliink, far better
than our own, at least, in one prominent particular.
There can be little doul)t but that the uniforming of a
body of men thus employed adds vastly to their
eiKcicncy. In tiiis country, to be sure, tkey are gen-
erally labelled in some way — in New York, wearing a
metallic star; in Boston, the word "police" on their
hats, with the letter and number of llieir division.
But this gives them but very little authenticity, nor does
it command tluit respect from the class over whom
they arc generally called to exercise their authority,
that a distinctive, uniform dress would do. It is im-
possible to disguise the fact that such things go a
great way in enforcing the orders and establishing
the authority of an official. We know that some
people object to this idea on the ground that it is anti-
republican ; but this is a trifling consideration when
compared with the importance of recognizing and es-
tablishing the necessary authority vested in these civil officers.
A neat, unostentatious, but regular uniform would double the
efficiency of our police corps, and may, we think, yet be adopted.
A watchful, energetic police, as the instrument to detect crime
and expose villany, to maintain order and cleanliness, and justly
to enforce all municipal regulations, must ever be a blessing in
any country ; but in all the great countries of tlie European con-
tinent, there is, besides this police, a military police extending
over the whole state, and what is called the hiffk police, which is
occupied in watching the political tendency of the people, and
everything connected with it. But a police of tliis sort, as a reg-
ular instrument of the government, is incompatible with tme lib-
erty, and ever acts as a cnisbing weight upon freedom of thought
and action. Prom such an inquisition we are free ; may wc ever
be so, and ever be a liberty-loving, but law-regarding people.
.^-^
PORTRAIT OF GILBERT NOURSE, CPHEF OF POLICE, BOSTON.
GRANITE QUARRIES, QUIKCY.
About two miles back from Quincy Bay, in Boston harbor, is
a range of elevated land; in some parts more than six hundred
feet above the sea, containing an inexhaustible supply of that in-
valuable building material, the Quincy granite, so much used and
approved in all our Atlantic cities, for its durability and beauty.
This range of granite extends through Milton, Quincy, and
Braintree, but more of it is quarried in Quincy than in the other
towns. These quarries were first opened about 3820; there are
now about twenty-five quan-ies operated by different firms. The
aggregate amount of stone taken out and sent to market is valued
at half a million of dollars yearly. Pieces of this granite have
been obtained in these quarries weighing three hundred tons each,
from which the columns of the Custom House, and Merchants'
Exchange, in Boston, were made. Three or fom' of these estab
lifihments are engaged by government in supplying
granitu for the New Orleans Custom House, promi-
nent among which is the establishment of Whitchcr &
Sheldon, who employ about seventy-five workmen.
The quany of which wu give a representation below
is owned and operated by the abovenamed gentlemen.
By means of a railroad from these quarries to the
tide-waters of Neponset River, and of a canal to the
centre of the town, this stone is transported with great
expedition and little cost. These quarries of granite
to the town of Quincy arc of more value than a mine
of gold, and it is fortunate foi' the public that the sup-
ply is abundant, for the demand for it from various
jjarts of the United States is constant and increasing.
Some little description of the town of Quincy, itself,
may not be inappropriate here. This territory, in
common with that of Braintree and Randolph, be-
longed to Boston, until the incorporation of Braintree
as a town in 1640. It was the first part of Braintree
that was settled, and had been generally called Mount
Wollaston, for Captain WoUaston, one of the first
settlers, in 1625. In 1792, this part of Braintree was
made a separate town, and called Quincy, to perpetu-
ate the family name of one of its proprietors — a name
that will ever be dear to the lover of American liberty.
Quincy is hounded north by Dorchester, east by Bos-
ton harbor, south by Weymouth and Braintree, and
west by Milton. The .surface of the town is diversihed,
I>y hills, valleys and plains. The soil is generally of
an excellent quality, and under good cultivation.
There are large tracts of salt meadow in the town,
and many large and beautiful farms, which, in respect
to soil and skillful management, may vie with any in
the State. The town house, in this village, is a noble
building, eighty-five by fifty-five feet, built of granite,
and is an excellent specimen of the Quincy stone.
The ancestral estate of the Quincy family comprises
one of the most beautiful and well cultivated farms in
New England. It is the property of Josiah Quincy,
LL.C, an eminent agriculturist, president of Harvard
University from 1829 to 1845, and the only child of
the patriot, Josiah Quincy, jr. About two miles east
from the village is Quincy Point, at the junction of
Town and Weymouth Fore Rivers, and near New-
comb's Neck, in Braintree. This is a delightful spot,
and contains many handsome buildings. This point
of land, with a peninsula near it called Germantown, are admir-
ably located for ship-building, and for all the purposes of naviga-
tion and the fishery. Here is a fine harbor, a bold shore, and a
beautiful country, within ten miles of the capital of New England.
Gcnnantown was first settled by a number of weavers and glass
makers from Gennany, who made an unsuccessful attempt to
manufacture glass and cloth, some time between 1750 and 1760.
At this place, the great ship Massachusetts was built in 1789, the
largest vessel at that time in the country. Germantown is fast
rising into notice, in consequence of its easy access, beauty and
navigable facilities. The manufactures of the toivn consist of
boots, shoes, leather, vessels, salt, etc.; but the preparing of
granite, or sienite, so universally known and justly celebrated as
the " Quincy Granite," is the most important article of manufac-
ture in the place.
VIEW OP THE GRANITE QUARRIES, AT QUINCY, MASSACHUSETTS.
F. GLBASON,
( CORNER BROSmELD
i AND TREMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 28, 1852.
®2 PER VOLTJME. 1
10 Cts. single. I
Vol. m. No. 9.— Whole No. 61.
MONUJUENT CEMETERY.
This is one of the many elegant grounds in
tlie vicinity of Philadelphia, set apart for resting-
places of the dead. This, though not possess-
iog the romantic beauty of Laurel EQll, has
great attractions, and is the frequent resort of
meditative and piou3 persons. Scattered over
its area are to be seen marble tom^bs and tablets of
every variety of form and taste. Burial lots,
neatly enclosed in iron railings, are swarded in
grass of deepest green, and delicately omated
with flowers, plants and shrubbery, carefully
trained by the hand of affection to the memory
of tlie near and dear departed, reposing beneath
the sod. Monument Cemetery is situated on
Broad Street, two miles north of the city ; it is
surrounded by a massive wall, surmounted by
an iron x-ailing ; the main entrance fonns a build-
ing of pictui'esque beauty, and a drawing of it by
Devereaitx is herewith presented to the readers of
the Pictorial. It is only in later times that men
have become convinced how injurious it is to the
health of the living to remain, for a long time,
in the vicinity of the dead, particularly if the
corpses remain standing in simple cofBns, and
are not placed deep in the earth, as is commonly
the case in the sepulchral vaults of chui'ches.
Prom these the efHavia of putrefaction escape
easily, and diffuse themselves in the air. On the
occasion of opening such sepulchral vaults, those
who stood near them have sometimes fallen dead
on the spot, and no one could venture into the
church, for a long time after, without exposing
himself to dangerous consequences. At present,
the burying in churches is almost everywhere
suppressed, or, at least, permitted only under
certain restrictions. Even in Naples and Rome,
the general practice of erecting sepulchres in
churches was forbidden in 1809, and the foimda-
tion of burial-places without the city was provid-
ed for. The custom of the communities of Mo-
ravian Brothers, who form their burial-places
into gardens, is worthy of imitation. Several
Catholic church-yards in Germany are also dis-
tinguished by their pleasing aspect; for instance,
one in Munich, where every grave is covex'cd with
a bed of flowers, which the relations of the de-
ceased water from a fountain dug for the purpose.
The beautiful name of the German Moravian
Brothers, friedliof, or Jield of peace, is becoming
more and more common in Germany. Pere la
Chaise, near Paris, is another interesting spot.
VIEW OF THE MOlsrUMENT CEMEXERy, l^EAR PHILAPEI,PmA.
130
GLEASON'S PIOTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1 852, by F. Gleabon, in tlie Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Miiasacliusetta.
[WKITTESr JiXrRESSLY FOR GLEASON'S TICTORIAL.]
THE
THE FOETUNES OF A SOLDIER.
" Farewell, Lorcnzn Bczan. Sometimes think
kindly of the Countess M-o-r-a-n-z-a !"
She l)reiUhe(l no more. That faithful and
beautiful Kpirit liiul fled to heaven I
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
[concluded.]
CHAPTER XVm— [continued.]
Lorenzo Bczan, almost crazed with the con-
tending emotions that beset him, knew not what
to say — what to do ; he obeyed her wish, and
left the room, as did also the rest, leaving Isa-
bella and the Countess Movanza alone together.
General Bezan walked the adjoining room like
one who had lost all self-control — now pressing
his forehead with both hands, as if to keep back
the press of thoughts, and now, almost groaning
aloud at the stmggling of his feelings within his
throbbing breast. The light broke in upon him ;
while he had been so happy, so inconsiderate at
Madrid, in the society of the beautiful and intel-
ligent woman ; while he had respected and loved
her like a brother, he had unwittingly been plant-
ing thorns in her bosom ! He saw it all now.
He even recalled the hour when he told her of
his love for Isabella Gonzales — and remembered,
too, the sudden illness that she evinced. "Alas !
how blind I have been, how thoughtless of all
else but myself, and my own disappointments
and heart-secrets, Next to Isabella, I could
have loved that pure and gentle being. I did
feel drawn to her side by unspeakable tenderness
and gratitude for the consolation she seemed ever
so delicately to impart ; but for this right hand I
would not have deceived her, the virgin bear me
witness.'*
The moments seemed hours to hira, while he
waited thus in such a state of suspense as his
frame of mind might be supposed to indicate.
The surgeon entered to take his leave.
"How is she, sir?" asked Lorenzo Bezan,
hastily.
" I have not seen her since we left her with
Don Gonzales's daughter. She desired to be
left alone with her, you remember, and it is best
to do as she wishes. My skill can do her no
good. She cannot live but a very few hours,
and I may as well retire."
" There is, then, no hope for her, no possi-
bility of recovery'?"
"None!"
Throwing himself into a chair, Lorenzo Bezan
seemed perfectly overcome with grief. He did
not weep, no tears came to his relief; but it was
the fearful struggle of the soul, that sometimes
racks the stout frame and manly heart. The
soldier who had passed so many hours on the
battle-field — who had breathed the breath of
scores of dying men, of wounded comrades, and
bleeding foes, was a child now. Ho clasped his
hands and remained in silence, like one wrapped
in prayer..
He had not remained thus but a ghort time,
when a slave summoned him to the bedside of
the dying countess. He found her once more
alone. Isabella had retired to her own apartr
meut.
" General," said the sufferer, holding out her
hand, which he pressed tenderly to his lips 1
"Forgive me. Countess Moranza, pray forgive
me?"
" I have nothing to forgive, and for my sake
charge yourself with no blame for me. It is my
dying request, for I can stay but a little longer.
I have one other to make. You will grant it?"
" Anything that mortal can do I will do for
thee."
" Take, then, this package. It contains papers
and letters relative to myself, my estates, and to
you. Obey the injunctions therein contained."
" I will," said the soldier, kneeling.
" This promise is sacred, and will make me
die the happier," slie said, drawing a long sigh.
" I have explained to her you love the cause of
my singular appearance here, and have exculpa-
ted you from all blame on my account."
" Ah ! but countess, it is ten-ible that you
should have sacrificed your life to save mine."
" Say not so ; it is the only joy of tliis mo-
ment, for it has saved me from the curse of the
suicide !" she almost whispered, drawing him
closer to her side as she spoke. " I could not
live, save in the light of your eyes. I knew you
were poor, comparatively so — that fortune would
place your alliance with her you have loved be-
yond question as to policy. I resolved to follow
you — do all in my power to make you happy —
ask of you sometimes to remember me — and
then — "
" 0, what then V said Lorenzo Bezan, almost
trembling.
"Die by my own hands, in a way that none
should know I But how much happier has
Heaven ordered it. I could have wished, have
prayed for such a result; but not for one mo-
ment could I have hoped for it. As it is I am
happy."
" And I am ^vrctched," said the soldier ; "had
the choice been offered me of thy death or mine,
how quickly would I have fallen for thee, who
hast been more than a sister, a dear, kind sister
to me."
The sufferer covered her face with her hands ;
his tender words, and his gentle accents of voice,
and the truthful expression of his face, for one
moment reached her heart through its most sen-
sitive channel ! But the sti-uggle was only for a
moment ; the cold hand of death was upon her ;
she felt even the chill upon her system. A slight
shudder ran through her frame. She crossed her
hands upon her bosom, and closing her eyes,
breathed a silent prayer, and pressed the glitter-
ing cross that hung about her neck fervently to
her lips. Then turning to the soldier she said :
"You may well love her, general, for she is
very beautiful, and worthy of you," referring to
Isabella Gonzales, who had just returned to her
apartment.
" She is as lovely in person as in mind. But,
alas ! must I stand here powerless, and see you,
but an hour ago so perfectly well, so fall of life
and beauty, die without one effort to save you V
" It is useless," said the sufferer. " I feel tliat
the surgeon is correct, and I must die very
shortly."
" O, that I might save you, countess, even by
mine own life !"
" You w^ould do so, I know you would ; it is
so like your nature," she said, turning her still
beautiful eyes upon him.
" I would, indeed I would," answered General
Bezan.
A sweet smile of satisfaction stole over her
pale features as she once more languidly closed
her eyes, and once move that ominous shudder
stole through her frame.
"It is very cold, is it not?" she asked, realiz-
ing the chill that her paralyzed circulation caused.
"Alas, countess, I fear it is the chill of death
you feel !"
" So soon ? well, I am prepared," she said,
once more kissing the cross.
" Heaven bless and receive your pure and
lovely spirit," he said, devoutly, as she once
more replaced her hand within liis o^v^^.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE AVOWAL.
There had seemed to be a constantly recur-
ring thread of circumstances, which operated to
separate Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella Gonzales.
Isabella had received a fearful shock in the re-
markable occurrences of the last few days. The
devoted love of the countess, her Relf- .sacrificing
spirit, her risk and loss of her life to save him
she loved, all had made a most indelible impres-
sion upon her. Tbcre was a moment, as the
reader has seen, when she doubted tlie truth and
honor of Lorenzo Bezan ; but it was but for a
moment, for had not his o\vn trathfulness vindi-
cated itself to her mind and heart, the words of
the Countess Moranza had done so. That faith-
ful and lovely woman told her also of the noble
spirit of devoted love that the soldier bore her,
and how honestly he had cherished that love he
bore for her when surrotmded by the dazzling
beauty and flattery of the whole court, and bear-
ing the name of the queen's favorite.
All this led her of course to regard him with
redoubled affection, and to increase the weight
of indebtedness of her heart towards one whom
she had treated so coldly, and who for her sake
had borne so much of misery. "But ah !" she
said to herself, "if he could but read this heart,
and knew how much it has suffered in its self-
imposed misery, he would indeed pity and
not blame me. I see it all now ; from the very
first I have loved him — from the hour of our
second meeting in the Paseo — poor, humble and
unknown, I loved him then ; but my spirit was
too proud to own it ; and I have loved him ever
since, though the cold words of repulse have
been upon my tongue, and I have tried to im-
press both him and myself to the contrary. How
bitter are the penalties of pride — how heavy the
tax that it demands from frail humanity ! No
more shall it have sway over this bosom I" As
she spoke, the beautiful ghl threw back the dark
clustering hair from her temples, and raised her
eyes to heaven, as if to call for witness upon her
declaration.
The proper steps were taken for sending the
body of the countess home to Madrid, where it
would receive the highest honors, and those
marks of distinction which its connection with
the royal blood of Spain demanded. Lorenzo
Bezan mourned sincerely the loss of one who
had been so dear and kind a friend to him. An
instinctive feehng seemed to separate Isabella
and the Heuten ant-govern or for a brief period.
It was not a period of anxiety, nor of doubt,
concerning each other. Strange to say, not one
word had yet been exchanged between them
since that bitter farewell was uttered in the prison
walls of the military keep. No words could have
made them understand each other better than
they now did ; each respected the peculiar feel-
ings of the other. But weeks soon pass, and the
time was very brief that transpired before they
met in the drawing-room of Don Gonzales's
house. Ruez welcomed Lorenzo Bezan as he
entered, led him to the apartment, and calling
his sister, declared that they must excuse him,
for he was going with his father for a drive in
the Paseo.
Lorenzo Bezan sat for some moments alone,
when he heard a light footstep upon the marble
floor of the main hall, and his heart throbbed
with redoubled quickness. In a moment more
Isabella Gonzales stood before him ; her eyes bent
upon the floor, seemed immovably there ; she
could not raise them ; but she held forth her hand
towards him ! He seized it, pressed it to his
lips again and again, then dramng her closely
to his bosom, pressed his lips to her forehead,
and asked :
" Isabella, Isabella, do you, can you really
love me V
"Love you, Lorenzo Bezan V
" Yes, dear one, love me as I have for years
loved you."
She raised her eyes now ; they were streaming
with tears ; but through them all she said :
" I have looked into my heart, and I find that
I have ever loved you !"
" Sweet words ! 0, happy assurance," said
the soldier, rapturously.
" One word will explain all to thee. I was
spoiled when in childhood. Iwastold tliati was
beautiful, and as I grew older a spirit of haugh-
tincBs and pride was imjjlanted in my bosom
by the universal homage timt waH offered to mo
on all hands. I had no wish ungratified, was
unchecked, humored, in short Hpoiled by affec-
tionate indulgence, and but for one good influ-
ence— that exercised by tlie lovely character of
my dear brother, Uuez — I fear me, I should have
been undeniably lost to the world and myself
in some strange denouement of my life. A start-
ling and fearful event inti'oduccd you to mc un-
der circumstiinccs calculated to fix your form
and features forever in my memory. It did so.
I could not but be sensible of your noble and
manly qualities, though seen through what was
to my mind a dark haze of humble associations.
" This was my first impression of you. You
boldly wooed me, told me you loved me above
all else. Your very audacity attracted mc ; it
was so novel, so strange to bo thus approached.
I, who was the acknowledged belle of Havana,
before whom the best blood and highest titles of
the island knelt, and who was accustomed to be
approached with such deference and respect, was
half won before I knew it, by tlie Lieutenant
Lorenzo Bezan, on the Plato. Singular circum-
stances again threw us together, where again
your personal bravery and firmness served us so
signally. I knew not my own heart even then,
though some secret whisperings partly aroused
me, and when you were sent to prison, I found
my pride j-ising above all else. And yet by some
uncontrollable impulse I visited you. disguised,
in prison ; and there again I can see how nearly
I had acknowledged my true feelings ; but onco
more the secret whisper sounded in my ear, and
I left you coldly, nay, almost insultingly. But
bitterly have I wept for that hour.
"In vain have I struggled on, in vain strove
to forget ; it was impossible ; and yet, never un-
til you sent me that note, have I frankly acknow-
ledged, even to my o-\vn heart, the feeling
which I have so long been conscious of. Ah, it
has been a bitter experience that I have endured,
and now I can see it all in its true light, and own to
thee freely, that I have loved even from the first."
"Wliile she had spoken thus, Lorenzo Bezan
had gently conducted her to a couch, and seated
by her side he had held her hand while he listened
and looked tenderly into the depths of her lus-
trous and beautiful eyes. He felt how cheaply
he had earned the bliss of that moment, how
richly he was repaid for the hardships and gi-ief
he had endured for Isabella's sake.
"Ah, deai'cst, let us forget the past, and live
only for each other and the future."
" Can you so easily forget and forgive V she
asked him, in softest accents.
" I can do anything, everything," he said, " if
thou wilt but look ever upon me thus," and he
placed his aims about that taper waist, and drew
her willing form still nearer to his side, until her
head fell upon his shoulder. " There will be no
more a dark side to our picture of life, dear
Isabella."
" I tnist not.'*
" And you will ever love me V
" Ever !" repeated the beautiful girl, drawing
instinctively nearer to his breast.
At that moment, Ruez, returning from the
Plato to procure some article which he had left
behind, burst hastily into the room, and, blush-
ing like a young girl at the scene that met his
eye, he was about to retire hastily, when Lorenzo
Bezan spoke to him, not the least disconcerted;
he felt too secm'e in his position to realize any
such feeling :
"Come hither, Ruez, we have just been
speaking of you."
"OfiHc?" said the boy, rather doubtfully, as
though he suspected they had been talking of
matters quite foreign to him.
" Yes, of you, Ruez," continued his sister,
striving to hide a tell-tale blush, as her eyes met
her bi'other's. " I have been telling General Be-
zan what a dear, good brother you have been to
me — how you have ever remembered all hig
kindnesses to me ; while I have thought little of
them, and have been far from grateful."
" Not at Jicart, sister," said tlie boy, quickly ;
" not always in your sleep, since you will some-
times talk in yom* day dreams !"
"Ah, Ruez, you turned ti-aitor, and betray
me? well, there can be little harm, perhaps, to
have all known 7ioiv."
"Now?" repeated Ruez. ""Why do you use
that word so decidedly ?"
" Why, you must know, my dear Ruez," said
the general, "that a treaty has been partially
agreed upon between us, which will necessarily
put all hostilities at an end ; and, therefore, any
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
131
secret information can be of no possible use
whatever."
" Is it so, Isabella V asked Euez, inquiringly,
of his sister.
" Yes, brother, we are to ' bury the hatchet,'
as the American orators say."
"Are you in earnest? but no matter; I am
going — let me see, where was I going?"
" You came into the room as though you had
been shot out of one of the port-holes of Moro
Castle," said the general, playfully. " No won-
der you forget !"
The boy looked too full for utterance. He
shook the general's hand, heartily kissed Isabella,
and telling them he believed they had turned
conspirators, and were about to perpetrate some
fearful business against the government, and
sagely hinting that unless he was also made a
confidant of, he should forthwith denounce them
to Tacon, he shook his hand with a most seri-
ous mock air and departed.
It would be in bad taste for us, also, not to
leave Isabella and Lorenzo Bezan alone. They
had so much to say, so much to explain, so many
pictures to paint on the glowing canvass of the
future, witli the pencils of hope and love, that it
would be unfair not to permit them to do so un-
disturbed. So we will follow Ruez to the vo-
lante, and dash away with him and Don Gon-
zales to the Paseo, for a circular drive.
" I left General Bezan and Isabella together
in the drawing-room," began Ruez to his father,
just as they passed outside of the city walls.
" Yes. I knew he was there," said the father,
indifferently.
*' That was a very singular affaii- that occurred
between him and the Countess Moranza."
" Queer enough."
" Yet sister says that the general was not to
blame, in any respect."
" Yes, I took good care to be satisfied of that,"
said the father, who had indeed made it the sub-
ject of inquiry. " Had he been guilty of de-
ceiving that beautiful and high-born lady, he
should never have entered my doors again. I
should have despised him."
" He seems very fond of Isabella," continued
the boy, after a brief silence.
"Fond of her!"
"Yes, and she of him," said Ruez.
" Lorenzo Bezan ybnrf of my daughter, and she
of him ?"
" Why, yes, father ; I don't see anything so
very strange, do you?"
" Do I ? Lorenzo Bezan is but a nameless
adven turer — a — a — "
" Stop, father — a lieutenantrgovemor, and the
queen's favorite."
" That is true," said Don Gonzales, thoughts
fully. " Yes, but he's poor."
" How do you know, father ?"
" Why, it is but reasonable to think so ; and
my daughter shall not many any one with less
position or fortune than herself."
" As to position, father," continued the boy,
" General Bezan weai'S orders that you would
give half your fortune to possess !"
" I forgot that."
"And has already car\'ed a name for himself
in Spanish history," said Ruez.
" True."
" Then I see not how you can complain of
him on the score of position."
" No ; but he's poor, and I have sworn that no
man, unless he brings as large a fortune as Isa-
bella will have in her own right, shall marry her.
How do I know but it may be the money, not
Isabella, that he wants ?"
"Father!"
" Well, Ruez."
" You are unjust towards the noble nature of
that man; there are few men like him in the
queen's service, and it has not required long for
her to discern it." As the boy spoke, he did so
in a tone and a manner that almost awed his fa-
ther. At times he could assume this mode, and
when he did so, it was because he felt what he
uttered, and then it never failed of its influence
upon the listener.
" Still," said Don Gonzales, somewhat sub-
duedly, " he who would wed my peerless child
must bring something besides title and honor.
A fortune as large as her own — nothing else.
This I know Lorenzo Bezan has not, and there's
an end of his intimacy with your sister, and I
must tell her so this very evening."
" As you wiU, father. You are her parent,
and can command her obedience ; but I do not
believe you can conti"ol Isabella's heart," said
Ruez, earnestly.
"Boy, I do not hke thee to talk to me thus.
Remember thy youth, and thy years. Thou art
ever putting me to my metal."
"Father, do I not love thee and sister Isabella
above all else on eaith ?"
" Yes, yes, hoy, I know it ; thou dost love us
well ; say no more."
Ruez had broken the ice. He found that it
was time, however, to he silent now, and leaning
back thoughtfully in the volante, he neither spoke
again, nor seemed to observe anything external
about him until he once more entered the Plato
and his father's noble mansion.
CHAPTER XX.
HAPPY FINALE.
When Don Gonzales returned from his drive
with Ruez, and while he was still thinking upon
the subject which the boy had introduced, rela-
tive to Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella, he found the
general awaiting his return and desiring an in-
terview with him. This was of course granted,
and the two retired to the library of Isabella's
father, where the soldier resolved to make at
once, and in plain terms, an offer of his hand to
this daughter of the old house of Gonzales, and
to beg her parent's permission for their union.
Being in part prepared for this proposal, as we
have already seen, the father was not taken at
all aback, but very politely and considerately
listened to his guest. At last, however, when it
came his turn to speak, he was decided.
" I will tell you honestly, general, that, while
I fully realize the great service you have done
me and mine ; while I cannot but admire the
tact, talent, and noble characteristics that have
so quickly elevated you to a niche in the temple
of fame, still I am a veiy practical man, and
look well to worldly matters and immediate in-
terests. This has been my policy through life,
and I have ever found that it was a good and
sound one, and carried me on well."
"As a general rule, perhaps, it is a very good
one," added Lorenzo Bezan, to fill up a pause
where he seemed expected to say something.
" Now as to the matter which you propose,
aside from the matter as to whether Isabella
herself would consent, or — "
" I beg pardon, sir, for inteiTupting you, but
on that score I have her assurance already."
" Tou are very prompt, sir. Perhaps it would
have been a little more in accordance with pro-
priety to have_^rs( spoken to me."
" You have a right to question the point, and
perhaps are correct, but to this there is little eon-
sequence attached," said Gieneral Bezan, very
decidedly.
" WeU, sir, it is proper to come at once to the
point, and I will do so. I have registered an
oath; let me tell you, tlien, that my daughter
shall never espouse any man unless his fortune
is fully equal to her ovra, and this oath I shall
most religiously keep !"
" You have made a strange resolve, sir, and
one which will affect your daughter's happiness,
no less than it will do mine."
" The oath is registered. General Bezan, and
if necessary I am prepared to sti-engthen it by
another; for it has been my resolve for years."
" You are so decided, sir, that of course no
argument on my part would in the least influence
you. But I trust you will consider of this mat-
ter seriously, at least, and I may again speak to
you upon tiie subject."
" I shall always be happy and proud to meet
General Bezan as a particular friend in my own
house, or elsewhere," continued Don Gonzales,
"but there, we must understand each other, our
intimacy ceases, or as to the proposal of becom-
ing my son-in-law, you will see that it is totally
out of the question, when you remember my re-
ligiously registered oath upon the subject."
" For the present, then, I must bid you good-
day, sir," said the soldier, turning from the
apartment, and seeking the govemoi-'s palace.
When he had left, Isabella's father summoned
her to his own room, and telling her at once the
conversation he had just passed with General
Bezan, reiterated to her that nothing would
move him from the resolve, and she must leani
to forget the young soldier, and place her affec-
tions upon some wealthy planter of the island,
who coupled with good looks and a pleasing
address, the accompaniments of a full purse and
broad estates. Isabella made no reply to her
father ; she was confounded at the cupidity of
his spirit ; he had never spoken thus to her be-
fore. She loved him dearly, and grieved that he
was susceptible of being influenced by such a
gi-ovelling consideration, and ^^dth a new cloud
hovering over her brow, and its shadow shutting
out the gleam of hope that had so lately been
radiating it, she left him.
The reader may well imagine the state of mind
in whicli Lorenzo Bezan sought the privacy of
his own apartment in the palace. To fall again
from such high hopes was almost more than he
could bear, and he walked his room with burned
and anxious steps. Once he sat down to address
a letter to Isabella, for he had not seen her since
he left Don Gonzales, and he did not know
whether her father would inform her of their
conversation or not. But after one or two inef-
fectual efforts, he cast the paper from him, in
despair, and rising, walked his room again. To
an orderly who entered on business relating to
his regular duty, he spoke so brief and abruptly
as to startle the man, who understood him only
in his better and calmer moods. Again was his
cup of bliss dashed to the earth !
"I had some undefined fear of it," he said to
himself. " I almost felt there would be some
fearful gulf intervene between Isabella and my-
self, when I had again left her side. 0, prophetic
soul, though our eyes cannot fathom the futm*e,
there is an instinctive power in thee that foretells
evil. My life is but a sickly existence. I am
the jest and jeer of fortune, who seems delighted
to thwart me, by permitting the nearest approach
to the goal of happiness, and yet stepping in
just in time to prevent the consummation of my
long cherished hopes."
As he spoke thus, he sat down by the side of
his table, and casting his eyes vacantly thereon,
suddenly started at seeing the address of his
own name, and in the hand of the Countess Mo-
ranza. It was the package she had handed to
him at her dying moment. In the excitement of
the scene, and the circumstances that followed,
he had not opened it, and there it had since laid
forgotten. He broke the seal, and reading sev-
eral directions of letters, notes, and small parcels,
among the rest one addressed to the queen, he
came to one endorsed as important, and bearing
his own name, Lorenzo Bezan.
He broke the seal and read, " The enclosed
paper is my last mil and testament, whereby I
do give and bequeath to my friend. General Lo-
renzo Bezan, my entire estates in the Moranza
distiict of Seville, as his sole property, to have
and to hold, and for his heu-s after him, forever.
This gift is a memento of our friendship, and a
keepsake from one who cherished him for his
true nobility of soul !"
Could he be dreaming ? was he in his senses ?
Her entire estates of Moranza, in Seville — a
princely fortune given to him thus ? He could
not believe his senses, and moved about his room
with the open letter in his hand, not knowing
what he did. It was loug before he could calm
his excitement. What cared he for fortune, ex-
cept so far as it brought him near to her he loved ?
It was this that so sensibly affected him ; the
bright sun of hope again burst through the clouds.
Her father says that the suitor of Isabella
Gonzales must bring as large a fortune to her as
she herself possesses. As large? here I am en-
dowed with the possession of an entire Spanish
district — almost a small principality. Fortune ?
it would outnumber him in doubloons a thousand
times over. I happen to know that district —
rich in castles, convents, churches, cattle, re-
tainers. Ah, Countess Moranza, but it sadly
reminds me of thy fate. Thou didst love me,
ay, truly — and I so blind that I knew it not.
But regrets are useless ; thy memory shall ever
be most tenderly cherished by him whom thou
hast so signally befriended, so opportunely en-
dowed."
The reader may well suppose that Lorenzo
Bezan spared no time in communicating the
necessary facts to Don Gonzales, which he did
in the following brief notice :
" Finding, after inquiry, as to your pecuniaiy
affairs, and also after a slight examination of my
own that, in relation to the matter of property,
I am possessed of a fortune that would be valued
many times beyond your ovra, I am happy to
inform you that the only objection you mentioned
to my proposal relative to your daughter, is now
entirely removed. Concerning the details of this
business I shall do myself the honor to make an
early call upon you, when I will adduce the evi-
dence of the statement I have made herein.
Sincerely yours,
LoKENzo Bezan,
Lt. Gov. and Gen'l Commanding.
Give7i at the palace, Havaym.*'
Don Gonzales was no less sm-prised on the
reception of this note, than Lorenzo Bezan had
been when he first discovered the princely gifc
that the generous countess had endowed him
with. To do him justice, it was the only objec-
tion he had to Lorenzo Bezan, and he secretly
rejoiced that the circumstances stated would en-
able him to give a free consent to the union of
two souls which seemed so completely designed
for each other. He called to Ruez, who had
already heard the state of affairs from his flither,
and told liira at once ; and it was, of course, not
long after that Isabella dried her tears, and stilled
her throbbing heart by a knowledge that the last
objection to the happy union was obviated.
Don Gonzales, when he received the letter,
and had carefully examined it, even went per-
sonally to the palace to tender his congratula-
tions to the young lieutenant-governor, and to
tell him that he had no longer any objections to
raise as to the proposal which he had so lately
taken occasion to make, relative to Isabella.
" We, then, have your free consent as to our
early union, Don Gonzales ?"
" With all my heart, General Bezan, and may
the virgin add her blessing."
" I see, sir, you look anxious as to how I came
in possession of this princely fortune."
" I am indeed filled with amazement ; but the
evidence you offer is satisfactory."
" At another time I will explain all to you,"
replied Lorenzo Bezan, smiling.
"ItiS'Well; and now, sir, this matter of so
much importance to my peace of mind is settled."
Thus saying, Don Gonzales shook the soldier's
hand waimly, and departed, really delighted at
the result of the matter, for had not General Be-
zan brought the requisite fortune, the old Span-
iard would have religiously kept his oath ; and,
if not influenced by honor and consciousness in
the matter of fulfilling his sacred promise, ho
would have been led to do so through fear, he
being in such matters most superstitious.
Lorenzo Bezan resolved that little time should
intervene before he availed himself of the prom-
ise of Isabella's father. " Once mine, I shall
fear no more casualties, and shall have the right
not only to love, but to protect her. We know
each other now, better, perhaps, than we could
have done save through the agency of misfor-
tune, and ere to-raorrow's sun shall set, I hope
to call her mine."
As the moon swept up from out the sea that
night, and tinged the battlements of Moro Cas-
tle, and silvered the sparkling bay witli its soft
light, two forms sat at one of the broad balcony
mndows of Don Gonzales's house. It was Lo-
renzo Bezan and Isabella. They were drinking
in of the loveliness of the hour, and talking to
each other upon the thousand suggestions that
their minds busily produced as connected with
the new aspect of their own personal affairs.
The arm of the gallant soldier was about her,
and the soft cm-Is of her dark hair lay lo\dngly
about his neck as she rested upon his shoulder.
We might depict here the splendors of the
church of Santa Clara, where Isabella and Lo-
renzo Bezan were united ; we might elaborate
upon their perfect happiness ; state in detail the
satisfaction of Don Gonzales, and show how
happy was the gentle, thoughtful, kind-hearted
and brave Ruez ; and we might even say that
the hound seemed to realize that General Bezan
was now " one of the family," wagging his tail
with increased unction, and fawning upon him
with more e^ddent affection. But when we say
that all were happy, and that the great aim of
Lorenzo Bezan's heart was accomplished, the
reader will find ample space and time to fill up
the open space in the picture.
General Harero, fearing the disclosure in some
way of his villany in attempting, through his
agent, tlie now dead jailor, the life of Lorenzo
Bezan, immediately resigned his post, and sought
an early opportunity to retmrn to Spain. Here
he fell in a duel with one whom he had person-
ally injured, and his memory was soon lost to
friends and foes.
In Isabella's ignorance of the tender and truth-
ful promptings of her own bosom, we have shown
you the Heart's Secret, and in the vicissitudes
that attended the career of Lorenzo Bezan, the
Fortunes or a Soldier.
THE END.
Human Life. — Hope writes the poetry of the
boy, but memory that of the man. Man looks
fonvard with smiles, but backward with sighs.
Such is the wise providence of God. The cup
of life is sweeter at the brim, the flavor is im-
paired as we drink deeper, and the dregs are
made bitter that we may not struggle when it is
taken from om- lips.
132
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWINCx EOOM COMPANION.
-^m
m'km;i:,
jW*''i l-
MEXICAN TROOPS ON THE MARCH.
[For duscription, s«e pngo 141.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DP.AWIXG ROOM COIMPANION.
133
THE POTATO DISEASE.
Desirous to {i:ratify in every department of kno-wIe<:lp;e accepta-
ble to the public mind, we have thought we could in no better
way aecomplish one result to such an end than to give a series of
illustrations of the potato plant as it presents itself in its healthy
MAGNIFIED VIEW OF A SLICE OF RIPE POTATO.
state, and also under the influence of the disease so well known un-
der the name of the " potato rot." It is a subject of preat inter-
est, inasmuch as the potato is the main eatable esculent in all
civilized eountriea. Never was witnessed a more important result,
BLOTCHES ON A POTATO LEAF. ?; Ser sI^e!
springinj; from a seemingly insignificant beginning, than has been
presented by the disease now ravaging the potato-fields of all
quarters of the earth. No one could have imagined that a rot
which appeared in this crop in the island of St. Helena, in the
year 1840, was the "small speck on the horizon" which would
become the forerunner of a calamity as fatal to the potato as Asi-
atic cholera to man; and still less that a few blotches on the leaves of
this exotic plant were the heralds of political danger so extensive
as to affect the whole commercial policy of Cliristendom. Such,
however, has been the course of events, and justifies our present-
ing our readers with some information on this singular subject.
The potato plant is naturally found wild on the mountains of
Chili, and perhaps of Peru, whence its cultivation has spread into
surrounding countries. It, or a species very like it, also occurs in
the west of Mexico, in the province of Mechoacan, in a perfectly
wild state. The stories current of its being a native of Virginia
are undeserving of credit. Its present name was given it in con-
sequence of its resemblance to the Batatas, now called sweet po-
tato, which had been previously brought to the notice of Europe-
ans. The latter is a kind of bindweed; but our potato belongs
to the nightshade order, and is poisonous in all parts except its
tubers, which are what we eat. In order to form a just idea of
the nature of the potato disease, it is necessary that, in the first
place, we should show how this plant grows, and reproduces itself.
If a potato plant is dug up at this season it will be found to
present such appearances as are shown at Fig. 1. There is in
the first place the remains of an old potato, or, as the farmers
call it, sat, (a), from which all the growth has proceeded. Imme-
diately rising from that is the main stem, or haulm, and above
the ground level are the leaves and branches. Among the former,
will be found a number of green berries, about as large as musket
balls : they are the potato-apples or plums (k), and are filled with
seeds which nature provides to multiply the potato. If the plant
produced nothing more than lias now been mentioned, it would
be of no use to mankind, for all these parts are more or less poi-
sonous. But italso pushes forth under-ground runners, which are
a kind of branch, the ends of which swell out into great round or
oblong bodies, which are filled with starch, and have the name of
tubers. These ('</ and /3, which are vulgarly called roots, are
very diiferent from the red roots (e), which are little threads, re-
sembling hairs, and unable to swell out or form much starch in
their inside. Every potato plant is capable of producing many
such tubers, and every tuber will bear to be cut into many pieces,
each of which mil become a new plant; and thus the quantity of
produce which an acre of land will furnish, and the extent to
which the crop may be easily propagated, are quite enormous. It
is said that as much as forty thousand pounds weight of potatoes
has been obtained from one single acre of land; this would sup-
ply a man with ten pounds of food a day for nearly eleven years,
if he could keep it; and hence has arisen the universal desire to
cultivate the plant in all countries into which it has been intro-
duced. It now, however, seems as if Providence had detennined
to an'cst its further increase, for it of late years has been attacked by
anew disease, the nature of which is unknown, which speedily de-
stroys the hopes of the farmer, and sometimes even converts whole
fields of potatoes into a mass of corruption within a few hours.
What is very remarkable is, that the most
healthy and vigorous potato-fields are those
which are destroyed most rapidly. Not a
sign of the disease may be visible to-day ;
to-morrow the leaves may be seen withered,
black, and half putrid ; and the day after
they are followed by the destruction of the
stem. Generally, however, the evil is less
rapid in its strides. It first appeared in
Europe in the east of Germany, about mid-
summer, 1845; in a few weeks it spread
over all the western parts of the Continent,
extending even to the coast of Portugal,
missing, however, the north-west of Spain,
and not advancing so far as the Mediter-
ranean. England was visited in the middle
of August, and for some time it was hoped
that the cold northern climate would resist
it ; by degrees, however, it made progress,
and was finally stopped only by the High-
lands. In the meanwhile it reached Ireland, and it had done so
much mischief that the British Government sent commissioners
to inquire into the facts, and to consider what could be done to
arrest its progress. Half the crop that year was estimated to have
been destroyed, or rendered unfit for human food. On the Conti-
nent, it has been even more severe ; and in the United States the
disease has been very extensive. Although the cause is unknown,
the symptoms have become too familiar. In all cases, the leaves
become black and soft, in rounded patches ; and quickly after, the
tubers change here and there to a brouTi substance which resem-
THE DISEASED STEM, NATURAL SIZE.
bles a decayed apple, and eats their centre. It is not, however, in
the leaf that the disease begins. Before any outward sign appears,
a brown blotch is seen on the young stem. The old tuber seems
to contain the germ of some affection that is carried through the
tubes of the stem and corrupts the sap of the leaves. Myriads of
A POTATO, SHOWING THE DISEASE IN PROGRESS.
a minute parasitical plant, called Botiyfis hifesfans, follow the potato
disease. When the blotches are examined closely, there will be
perceived a minute gray mould, having a spawn like a mushroom,
which it spreads among the cells of the leaf. A microscope will
discover a green surface, from which escapes a powder, the seeds
of the parasite, which seems to be the impregnation of the disease.
THE BOTRYTIS INFESTANS, VERT HIGHLY MAGNIFIED.
134
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
tWrittcn for QIcilsou'h Pictorlitl.]
TO-MORROW.
TIY JOHN K. nOLMKS.
DM WO but Itnow what llcfl Ijoyond
This varied, Bbiulowy piith wo tvead,
IIow often would our bouIh doapond,
Our eyes tlio toarfl of ftorrow Hlied !
But Ood, who knows whiit'H boat to do,
"HTio sees us from his shiiTy throuc,
ITiia \vl8oly hidden from our view
Thut which hud best romiiin uoltuowu.
Wo walk to-day in conscious prido,
And hang thu flag of hope on high ;
But ah ! to-morrow, by our side,
Somo friond may lay liim down and dlo ;
Some early Howcr that won our praise,
Some altar whcro wc laid our trust,
May fade ere dies the evening rays —
May trampled bo and laid in duat.
Youth dreams of many beaming things,
As on ho hio8 in pleasure's tmclt ;
Each day some new-born promise brings,
IIo turns uo oyo of sorrow back.
Tho flowory flclda are all bcforoj
His eyes on some bright star are sot,
Life is to him a sunnj' sliore,
He '11 learu jt has its shadows yet.
To-morrow ! in thy secret shade
I little know what is for mo ;
I may be with my fathers laid.
Or ■wi-eckcd on wild misfortune's sea !
But far beyond life's boundary, lives
The everlasting army bright ;
And He alono who tabes or gives.
Can guide my wandering steps aright.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE TWO SILK DRESSES:
— OR
AUNT HANNAH'S WHIM.
ET MUS. M. E. R0BIK"S0N,
In the small country town of S , quite a
number of ladies belonging to the Rev. Mr.
Dwight's society, were in the habit of meeting
together an afternoon in each week, for the pur-
pose of Iteeping up friendly associations, and to
hear and repeat the news of the day. It was
not exactly a " sewing society," although every
lady put a piece of work in her pocket or reti-
cule, to keep her hands busy while her tongue
performed its office.
The society had settled a new minister some
two months previous to tlie time of which we
write, and the subject had proved a very inter-
esting theme of conversation, judging by the te-
nacity with which it was adhered to. His ser-
mons were commended or criticized as usual,
while his personal appearance, manners and
general deportment wex'C thoroughly and impar-
tially examined. His lady, also, came in for
her sliare of scrutiny ; and if the truth must be
told, she was attended to first. One thought she
was rather too fine in her notions and aristo-
cratic, for a country town — they had formerly
resided in the city — another remarked that the
Dwight's parlor carpet was a Bnissels, whereas
a common cotton and wool was quite good
enough ; while a third hinted that she dressed
too much for a minister's wife — which last ob-
servation we think was uncalled for, as the lady
found it exceedingly difficult to supply herself
with the cheapest material out of her husband's
scanty salary.
On the whole, however, Mrs. Dwight pleased
them. She did not consider it beneath her to
drop in any time and chat awliile, even if it was
iu the kitchen; and she had often been known
to accompany her husband in his visits of mercy.
Although young, and conscious that her place
was a difficult one to fill, and that many looked
to her as an example, she yet possessed so much
amiability, common sense, and good judgment,
that in the short space of eight weeks she had
managed to gain the respect and good will of
most of the parishioners, and was in a fair way
to be as well liked as her predecessor.
At one of the afternoon sessions we have re-
ferred to, she had assembled with the rest, for
the first time ; but an unexpected circumstance
made it necessary for her to leave early. When
she was gone the conversation re-commenced :
"I think a few of us did Mi-s. Dwight injus-
tice, at first,'* remarked a middle aged lady, " at
least, I did for one. I think she bears acquaint-
ance well."
" That she docs," enthusiastically replied an-
other. " "When my I)oy was sick, a sister could
not have been kinder than she was ; watching
witli him all night repeatedly, and invariably in
once u day. O, 1 shall never forget it."
"It was gralifying, certainly," resumed tlic
first speaker; '*and more so, as kIio was almost
a sti-angcr to you. It denotes good feeling, and
a heart iu the ijglit place."
"I don't know about that," said Miss Gard-
ner, a maiden lady, who usually went by tlic
name of " Aunt Hannah."
•' Why not ?" asked Mrs. Webb. " You will
allow that slio was not obliged to make other
ihati a formal call, had she been so disposed."
" Perhaps not," replied ]VIiss Gardner, slowly,
and evi(k'ntly weighing her words. " But she
obviously wishes to please lier husband's parish-
ioners, and no one can blame her for that. Tho
object is surely a laudable one. But the ques-
tion is this; Avhcther she would have done it un-
der other circumstances, and when no observing
eyes were ujion her."
" As sho is an unpretending, unostentatious
woman, I think one could safely answer in the
affirmative, " was the remark of tlie lady who
had spoken of Mrs. Bwight's kindness to her
child. "I know of two or tlu-ec instances in
wliich she could not have possibly been influ-
enced by people's opinions, or a desire to display
her good works." This was said with much
earnestness, and displayed a feeling of true grat-
itude on the part of the speaker.
" I agree with you," rejoined Mrs. Webb.
"At best, she has difficulties enough to over-
come, and let us give credit where credit is due.
I question if any one of us could fill her place
more satisfactorily ; for no one denies that she
is sweet-tempered, patient, and amiable, and a
good share of intellect is certainly hers. What
more would we have ?"
" Sure enough," said one.
" Sure enough !" echoed Aunt Hannah. " If
we were only sure that she possessed these good
traits you have mentioned, in reality. But
there's the rub."
" But why bring up possibilities?" urged the
other. " Wliy doubt her sincerity ? If she — "
"Don't misconstrue my remarks," inten-upted
Miss Gardner, with a smile, "for I merely
meant to hint that she might possibly not be
cither " sweet-tempered, patient, nor amiable,"
when out of our sight and things did not go to
her mind. Don't think me an enemy to the
lady, JVIi-s. Webb, for indeed I am not."
" Well, I'm glad to hear it." was the good-
natured reply, " for I respect Mrs. Dwight, and
think that she tries hard to do her duty. Noth-
ing in the world would tempt me to be a minis-
ter's wife ; there's no end to the tasks they are
expected to perform, and when they do the best
they can, some one, like Aunt Hannah, for in-
stance," and she winked slyly at the latter,
" steps up and questions the pxirity of her mo-
tives in so doing."
" You are rather hard on mo," said Aunt
Hannah, " and I fear yourself, with all present,
have an idea that I really believed what I said."
" No such thing !" responded Mrs. Webb,
warmly. "And to prove it, I'll tell you what
I've been thinking of."
In an instant sewing and knitting was di'op-
pcd, and every eye fixed upon the speaker.
"As you all know," resumed Mrs. Webb,
" the salary of our minister is small, in compar-
ison with that of some otliers, and was so, previ-
ous to coming here. His wife's wardrobe must
necessarily be limited, and I have been thinking
tliat we could not do better than give her a good
dress. What say yoxi, ladies V
Mrs. Webb had not appealed in vain. With-
out any hesitation an unanimous assent was
given.
"Of what material shall it be?" asked tho
former.
"I have never seen her wear silk," remarked
one ; " suppose we buy her a nice black one."
"A very appropriate choice, I think," replied
Mrs. Webb, and the suggestion receiving the ap-
proval of all. Miss Gardner — who was about vis-
itnig the city — was appointed to make the con-
templated purchase.
The latter, notwithstanding her former re-
marks, gave a full and cordial assent to the pro-
posal, and as there was no regular dressmaker in
the vicinity, agreed to perform the service of
cutting and making heiself.
" You can leave the wliole matter with me,
ladies," said sho ; " I will do the best I can, and
I flatter myself, to your satisfaction. When it
is finished, I will transfer it safely to you ; and
as I shall take great pains to fold it up neatly,
perhaps it had better not be unfolded until she
receives it."
"But how will you fit her, unlcstj she sees it?"
asked Mrs. Webb, in some perplexity to know
how it was to be managed.
" I did some work lor her a short time since —
altered a dress, or something of the kind — and
have a pattern which fits her. So you sec I
shall have no diffi(;ulty in tlmt respect."
By the time everything was arrartged to iheir
liking, the sun had set, and the ladies soon dis-
persed to their respective homes, happy in the
thought of conferring a service upon one who,
thus far, had proved herself worthy.
Miss Hannah Gardner was an odd character,
noted for her peculiar sentiments and eccentric
whims. She was a good-natured, cheerful body,
lived nowhere in particular, had no particular
business, but resided several weeks at a time
with different individuals in the neighborhood
who prized her society. But she was by no
means a burden upon the latter ; no one could
step lighter in a sick room than she, place the
pillows more easily, or make more acceptable
gruel — which last mentioned seiwiee, by the way,
is a more important one than most people
imagine.
In a word, she made herself generally useful ;
for when no invalid needed her care, plenty of
sewing could be procured, and althougli Aunt
Hannah was reputed wealthy, and not obliged
to use the needle or wait upon the sick, yet she
was never idle. No one, however, knew any-
thing positive respecting her affairs, and as she
was never known to speak of the subject, it re-
mained a m*ystci*y.
" Well, the journey to the city of P was
made, the silk was purchased, and when suffi-
cient time had elapsed, the dress was finished,
and two ladies — one of whom was Mrs. Webb-
commissioned to make the presentation.
Accordingly the two turned their steps in the
direction of the parsonage. They found Mrs.
Dwight at home, who welcomed them cordially,
and after some general conversation, Mrs. Webb
proceeded to the object she had in view.
" A few of us ladies," she began, " wishing to
give you some token of our respect and esteem,
myself and friend were chosen to wait upon you
this afternoon."
Mrs. Dwight murmured her thanks.
"A nice dress has been thought to be as ser-
viceable an article as we could select, and I hope
it will meet with your approval."
" Nothing could be more acceptable," replied
Mi's. Dwight, gratefully and earnestly, " for hav-
ing been disappointed in regard to one I intend-
ed wearing, it comes just in time. I can only
repeat my acknowledgements for yonr kindness,
and will strive to give the donors no cause to
regret it."
" I would like to see it on," added Mrs. Webb,
unwinding the numerous strings which Aunt
Hannah had seen fit to tie around the bundle.
" I am anxious to see how it fits you, though
Miss Gardner said there would be no trouble."
Mrs. Dwight looked up quickly, when she
heard the name, but taking the bundle, quietly
left the room for the purpose mentioned. In a
short time she presented herself before her two
visitors.
"\sthat the dress?" exclaimed Mi-s. Webb,
in amazement.
"It must be, I think, for I took it from the
bundle," replied the lady, with a half smile ; but
a bright crimson spot appeared upon her cheek
as she glanced at her person in an opposite
mirror.
" What a fright !" cried the companion of Mrs.
Webb, when astonishment had allowed the use
of her tongue. " What a waist ! what sleeves !
It must be a mistake ; Aunt Hannah must have
put up the wrong dress," slie added, despairingly.
And no wonder they exclaimed ; no wonder
they were sorely puzzled and astonished; for
such another dress it has never been our lot to
see. The skirt consisted of two breadths, looped
up like a ballet dancer's, and was ornamented
in evei'y criss-cross way, with all widths and
colors of ribbons. The waist looked like a sort
of bag, with enormous holes cut for tlie arms,
over which flapped a large pair of lappets, orna-
mented iu the same grotesque way. Depending
from the waist were numerous strings of beads,
of all sizes, which shook and jingled at ever}-^
motion. Altogetiier, it was a garment which
could not fail to please the fancy of the inhabit-
ants of an Indian's wigwam. The three ladies
were silent for a moment. Mrs. Webb examined
the work attentively, and then said :
"Do not let this circumstance .trouble you,
Mi's. Dwight ; and, believe me, had I known of
it, it would not have occurred. Miss Gardner
may have intended it lor a joke, but it is quite
too serious a one for my fancy."
"It is of no consequence, for it was probably
80 intended," uttered Mrs. Dwight, while her
voice trembled slightly.
" The matter shall be looked into and ex-
plained. Take off' the awful looking thing, and
let me take it back to the maker," said the otiier
visitor, with an indignant look.
" I beg you will not blame Miss Gardner,"
jdcadcd the minister's wife, in an earnest tone.
" I feel assured she meant no harm; and no
harm you see has resulted, except the waste of
silk," she added, smiling faintly.
" Well, I must say you take it quite coolly !'*
exclaimed Mrs. Webb. " Were I in your place,
I should resent it; you must have more patience
than common folks, or you would get angry.
Bless me, how you do look ! I declare, I should
be tempted to laugh, if I were not so vexed with
Aunt Hannah !"
" Anger is a visitor I get rid of as soon as
possible," calmly replied the person addressed,
who had now regained her equanimity, and was
slowly divesting herself of the dress, which was
again tied up with very little ceremony, as Mrs.
Dwight made no motion to retain it.
When the ladies had gone, and the latter found
herself alone, her hurt feelings obtained the mas-
tery, and she burst into tears. Mrs. Webb
knew but little of the workings of her mind,
when she spoke of the " coolness " with which
she received this apparent insult. No ; the in-
ward struggle was unnoticed, but it was none
the less bitter. She had learned, however, to
conquer her feelings, and she calmly and dispas-
sionately tried to fathom the motives which
could have governed Miss Gardner. But hero
she was at fault ; the latter had seemed friendly
disposed, and, in fact, had won the regard of
herself and husband in many ways ; and it was
an unwelcome task to believe that she would
wantonly and deliberately wound the feelings of
others.
But this was not the first time she had ques-
tioned, by herself. Miss Gardner's pretended
friendship. But a short time previous to this
occurrence, Mrs. Dwight, by considerable self-
denial and economy, had purchased sufficient
silk for a dress, and employed Miss Gardner to
cut and make it. But, intentionally or other-
wise, it had been entirely spoiled ; it was cut
wTong, and made up shockingly. She felt dis-
appointed enough to cry when she glanced at
the short, ill-fitting waist, and found that no al-
tering, twisting, or pulling could make it wear-
able.
Miss Gardner was entirely unconscious of any-
thing wrong, or ajiparently so, and protested
that she " felt quite satisfied with herself." Not
so the other; she more than half believed that it
had been i-uined on pui-pose ; for had not Mrs.
Gardner the reputation of handiness at the craft 1
And now another was added to the list; two
valuable dress patterns entirely ruined ! What
did it mean ? Had she unconsciously off"ended
the lady, and was she so undigijified as to show
her resentment in -this manner? Time only
would show.
After considerable time spent in reflection,
Mrs. Dwight laid the dress away, resolving to
say nothing respecting it to her husband, for she
did not wish to trouble him unnecessarily, and
made an cffiart to forget and forgive. In this
she succeeded ; she cherished no resentful feel-
ings towards Miss Gardner, and treated her in
as friendly a manner as heretofore. And so
should it be in this case ; she would render good
for evil ; and Mrs. Dwight kept her resolution so
well, that no change in her manner could be de-
tected when she happened to meet Miss Gard-
ner on the day succeeding tho event we have
related.
But the latter did not fare so well ; Mrs. AVebb
and her companion overwhelmed Her with their
reproaches and indignant exclamations, and de-
manded an immediate explanation of her strange
conduct. Aunt Hannah, however, let them have
it all their own way, and merely laughed quietly.
"Leave the matter to mc, my friends," sho
replied, when the two had fairly talked them-
selves out of hreatli. " Yon don't understand
what I'm about. No one who contributed any-
thing towards the ruined dress, as you term it,
shall lose anything ; neither shall Mrs. Dwight."
" Well, it's enough to vex a saint !" exclaimed
Mj-s. Webb; "and you've always some sclicmo
in your head that nobody understands. There
I sat, telling what we had done, and praising up
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
135
the dress before I had seen it, because I put con-
fidence in jou. More than that, I'm afraid she
■will think I had a hand in it ; and that's not a
pleasing reflection, by any means."
" Depend upon it you shall not suffer for my
ftiult," said Aunt Hannah, earnestly. "You
hare been a good champion for Mrs. Dwight,
and deserve something better ;" and she arose
and placed a very handsome piece of silk in the
hands of Mrs. Webb.
" This is the purchase you requested me to
make, and not that which you carried to the
parsonage. It -was necessary to tell you this,
that we may keep on good terms ; but you must
keep my secret," she added, smiling, " until I
tell it myself."
The ladies were again confounded, but gave
the required promise ; and after answering sev-
eral questions to the apparent satisfaction of
Miss Gardner, they left the house, much better
pleased than when they entered it.
About a week after this, a package and a
sealed letter were handed Mi's. Dwight. With
a look of surprise that increased as she read on,
the latter made herself acquainted with the con-
tents. It ran thus :
"Mrs. Dwight — My dear friend: — For you
must allow me to call you such, although some
acts of mine may have given you the impres-
sion that I do not deserve the privilege ; but let
our future intercourse decide that question.
You already know that I am called eccentric,
and disposed to be somewhat whimsical. It
may be so ; I shall not dispute the fact, for I
must acknowledge that I have cherished a whim,
gratified it, and am well satisfied with the end I
have attained. Would you know my object?
It was to satisfy myself that you were proof
against disappointment, vexation and apparent
insult. Nobly have you passed the ordeal;
most christian-like, patient and forbearing has
been your conduct. Forgive the pain I have
been instrumental in causmg you.
" The silk which I pm-cbased by request of a
number of ladies, as you were informed, is with-
in the package ; the other pattern I hcg you will
receive as a gift from me, with what it contains,
as a slight reparation for the additional mischief
wliich, you will remember, I was once guilty of.
Let me have your forgiveness, share your friend-
ship, and be assured that I vnll endeavor to
merit it in future. Yours truly,
"Hannah Gaednek."
Mrs. Dwight laid down the letter and opened
the package. A very nice piece of black silk
revealed itself, and an elegant fancy dress pat-
tern, which was twice as valuable as the one she
had had spoiled. But this was not all ; as she
unfolded the goods, severa^bank notes fell from
between the folds. She hastily picked them up,
and found they amounted to the sum of a hun-
dred dollars.
The eyes of Mrs. Dwight sparkled with pleas-
ure as she caught her gifts and ran with them to
her husband's study, to whom she related the
whole affair. We cannot stop toVecord what
was said, but ^l simply mention that her hus-
band was both surprised and pleased at the curi-
ous termination of the matter, and the good
sense which his wife had displayed.
From that period of time Aunt Hannah Gard-
ner became the fast and valued friend of Mrs.
D^vight, and never failed yearly to repeat her
gift.' The two silk dresses were made, fitted
admirably, and many a hearty laugh was had
over Aunt Hannah's whim.
GOOD ADVICE.
Why do you begin to do good so far off — this
is a roiling error. Begin at the centre and roll
outward. If you do love your wife, do not pre-
tend to such love for the people of the antipodes.
If you let some family grudge, some peccadillo,
some undesirable gesture, sour your visage to-
wards a sister or daughter, pray cease to preach
beneficence on a large scale. Begin noc at the
next door, but within your own door — ^vlth your
neighbor, whether relative, servant, or superior.
Account the man you meet the man you are to
bless. Give him such things as you have. How
can I make him or her happier ! This is the
question. If a dollar vdll do it give the dollar.
If advice will do it, give advice. If chastise-
ment \vill do it, give chastisement. If a look, a
smile, a warm pressure of the hand, or a tear,
give it. But never forget that the happiness of
our world is a mountain of golden sands, and
that it is your part to cast some tributaiy atom
every moment. — N. E. Farmer.
Adversity, sage useful guest,
Severe instructor, but the best ;
It is from thee, alone, we kjiow
Justly to value things below. — Somerville.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BLUE-EYED CLARA.
BT SUSAN H. BLAJ3DELL.
Blue-eyed Clara ! blue-eyed Clara I
If my hand avert«d harm ;
If thy fear of present danger
Fled before my clasping arm ;
If that arm, thus folded round thee,
Brought the surety thou didst need ;
Lightly beat my heart within me,
For the unforgotfcen deed.
Unforgotten— for thy blue eyes
Went with me that livelong day ;
Sunning from my heart's dart comera
Each unsightly web away.
Lighting up its inmost chambers,
Till the shadows thence had fled —
From the soft and tender glory,
By tliine angel presence shed.
Elue-eyed Clara ! blue-eyed Clara I
Dream I of thee evermore ;
Music floateth all about me,
To my f oul unknown before ;
And with all its holiest breathings,
Blends the echo of thy tone ;
While thy spirit-face ariseth
Meekly — tenderly — alone.
[Written for GleasoQ^s Pictorial.]
THE YELLOW DOMNO.
BY H. PELICAN.
During the latter part of the reign of Louis
XV., of France, masquerades were in high esti-
mation, and public ones were often given, at
immense cost, on court days and other occasions
of rejoicing. ' To these latter, persons of all
ranks, who could afford to purchase the ticket,
were admissible; and accordingly rencontres
frequently took place at them, and exhibitions,
almost as curious in the way of disguise, as in
the assumption of chai'acter.
Little chance adventures of an amusing char-
acter were, at tliat period, not at all uncommon ;
and, indeed, at these entertainments, strange
gi-oups and characters were often purposely con-
certed by their directors and managers.
At other times, feats of legerdemain or activ-
ity were performed; and, on one occasion, it is
well knq^vn, a Genoese — the Ducrow of his day
■ — walked upon a tight rope, suiTOunded by fire-
works— which made him visible to all Paris —
from the top of one of the towers of the metrop-
olitan cathedral of Notre Dame, into the window
of a house near an opposite bridge, called the
Pont au Cliange.
Perhaps, however, the most whimsical among
the genuine surprises recorded at any of those
spectacles, was that which occurred in Paris, on
the 15th of October, the day on which the
Dauphin — eldest son of Louis XV., — attained
his majority.
At this fete, which was of a peculiarly magnifi-
cent character — so much so, that the details of it
are given at great length by historians of the day
— ^the strange bcha'viom' of a personage in a yel-
low domino excited general attention very early
in the evening. This mask, in short, who, if we
except tallaess and the most robust proportions,
showed nothing remarkable as to figure, seemed
to be gifted with an appetite, not merely past all
human conception, but exceeding even the wild-
est fancies of romance. Even
" The dragon of old, who churches ate
When full of good people on Sunday ;
Whole congregations 'were to him
But a dish of salmagundi," —
even he was but a nibbler — a mere Jackey-Go-
Easy — to this stranger of the yellow domino,
who, with an alacrity and perseverance as as-
tonishing as it was edifying, went from room to
room, and from one refreshment table to an-
other, not merely tasting, but devouring, devas-
tating all before him ! At one sideboard, ho
coolly dispatched a fowl, two thirds of a ham,
and half a dozen bottles of champagne, and the
vei'y next moment he was found seated in an-
other apartment performing the same fete, with
a stomach even keener than the first. This
strange course was persevered in steadily the
whole evening, until the company, who had at
first been much amused by it, became alike
alarmed and unruly.
" Is it the same mask, or are there several
dominos •?" demanded an officer of the guard, as
the yellow domino rose from a'seat opposite to
him, and quitted the apartment.
" I have seen but one ; and, by heaven, here
he is again !" exclaimed the party to whom the
query was addressed.
The yellow domino spoke not a word ; but
proceeded straight to the vacant seat which he
had just left, and again commenced supping as
though he had fasted a whole month of Sundays.
At length the confusion whicli this proceeding
created became universal ; and the cause of the
clamor reached the ears of the Dauphin.
"He is tlie very devil, your highness!" ex-
claimed an old nobleman, " saving your royal
highness's presence ; or wants but a tail to be so."
" Say, rather, he is some poor famished poet,
by his appetite," replied the prince, laughing.
" But there must be some juggle in all this ; he
spills the wine, and hides the proiisions under
his dress."
** Your highness shall immediately witness the
absence of juggle," continued the nobleman,
" with your own eyes, for see " — and he pointed
to the door of the apartment from which the
yellow domino had that instant emerged, and
was, as usual, proceeding directly to the refresh-
ment table.
Having seated himself with much apparent
complacency, the yellow domino, seizing a bot-
tle before him, di-ank glass after glass with a
gusto and avidity for some half a dozen roiinds
ti'uly astounding. But this appeared to be a
mere preliminary movement for clearing the
way for more solid and serious mastication, for
immediately thereafter he boldly attacked a fowl
which lay most invitingly before him, and which,
by cut and cut, now began to disappear by whole
wings and legs at a time.
The prince, accompanied by his courtiers,
looked on in silence, while the old nobleman,
who had formerly spoken, solemnly assm-ed him
that he had seen him do that feat thrice.
" Thrice, my lord V intermitted another cour-
tier, in rather a contemptuous tone, " why, I can
pledge my honor that I have seen him at it eight
times."
" Say ten times, my lord duke," cried another,
" and you are nearer the truth."
"And nearer still if you say fifteen," said the
Marquis Le Verd. " I have watched the fellow
this whole evening, and I can assure your high-
ness this is the fifteenth time I have witnessed
his repasts."
" Say you so %" replied the prince, all curios-
ity. " Call the master of the ceremonies — we
are anxious to know a little more of our guest."
The master of the ceremonies, however, on
being asked, knew nothing about him ; and the
yellow domino was, of course, very unceremoni-
ously, as well as unseasonably, inten-upted, as
he was cari-ying a bumper of clai*et to his lips.
" The prince desires that monsieur, who wears
the yellow domino, will immediately unmask,"
repeated the master of the ceremonies, with aw-
ful solemnity.
The yellow domino stared at him, and hesitated.
" The command mth which his highness hon-
ors monsieur is absolutely imperative," contin-
ued the master of the ceremonies.
" Oho !" bawled the mask, with a shrug of his
shoulders. "Against imperative orders there is
no contending."
The yellow domino immediately threw off his
mask and domino, and revealed to the astonished
prince and his attending nobles, a private trooper
of the Irish brigade, then in the service of
France. At this unexpected discovery, the
Dauphin had extreme difiiculty in restraining
both his own and the mirth of his attendants.
Introducing, however, as much severity into his
countenance and voice as he could, he com-
menced with :
" Now, in the name of all that is ravenous,
my good friend — not to inquire how you obtain-
ed admission — how have you contrived to sup
to-night so many times V
" Many times !" repeated the trooper. " Why,
with all due reverence be it spoken, sire, I was
but beginning to sup when your royal message
brought me to a halt."
"Beginning!" exclaimed the Dauphia, in
amazement. " Then, what is it that I have
heard and seen ? Wliere are the fowls and the
joints that have disappeared, along with the doz-
ens of bottles of Burgundy, claret and cham-
pagne 1 I insist upon knowing how all this is."
" It is, sire," replied the trooper, after consid-
erable hesitation, "it is, may it please your
highness's grace, because the troop I belong to
is on guard to-day, and we piu'chased a fete
ticket among us, providing ourselves at the same
time with a yellow domino, which fits us all.
By this means, the whole of our front rank —
myself being the last man — have supped, if the
truth must be told, most gloriously ; and the first
of the rear rank — saving your royal highness's
command — is now below waiting anxiously out-
side the door, ready to fall in and take his turn."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
FAIN WOULD I DIE AT SUNSET.
Br WHLIAM T. HU-SEE.
" Methinks it were no pain to die
On such an eve. when such a sky
O'ercanopies the west;
To gaze my fill on yon calm deep.
And like an infant, sink to sleep
On earth, my mother's breast."
To die when day's effulgence is declining,
When pensive twilight hovers o'er the lea ;
■When wildwood minsti-els are their notes resigning.
To die at sunset, is the time for me.
How bright the scenes wonld be my couch surroundiug,
The murmuring riU imbued with day's last ray ;
The bulbul's note through frowning groves resounding.
Would lend enchantment as I passed away.
The faithful stars would be their vigils keeping,
And holy quiet earth's wide reidms pervade ;
While whispericg zephyrs nature's harp were sweeping,
Then would I in obitual state be laid.
To die at sunset, when the crimson river
Eeliccta the glories of the gorgeous skies.
Shall be tny prayer to the aU-bounteous Giver,
At that blest hoar I'd walk in Paradise.
At sunset, 0 how mystic and transcending,
Are all the scenes on God's creation spread ;
The ■winding riU, with rainbow colors blending,
And gold-fringed clouds outstretching OTerhead,
Wonld give an air, at once, of awe and splendor,
Unfoldkig visions heavenly and sublime ;
While hopes celestial would my joys engender.
And waft my spirit to yon blissful clime.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE MAN OF TASTE.
BT JOHN K. HOLMES.
The man of taste is not always a tasty man.
His coat is sometimes seedy, his pockets some-
times empty, his beard sometimes longer than
decorum desues. He does not generally pay as
much attention to the whims of fashion as that
goddess might wish ; the lack of funds will not
admit, perhaps, even a partial reverence. Con-
sequently he wraps himself in the mantle of his
own dignity ; passes tailors in silence, looks at
hatters with a joyless air, and thinks of the wash-
erwoman once a month. His time is so much
taken up in the cultivation of his mind, that ho
has none to waste on his body. He considers
man as a forgiving animal — as for the ladies, he
lets them walk and chat with gallants who can
see more charms in them, and spend more money
in each enterprise than he can conveniently do.
He has a horror for lai'ge hotels, and expensive
private boarding houses. Plain dishes, at mod-
est eating houses, agree better with his imperfect
digestion and consumptive purse. He is, never-
theless, mentally, a man of taste. He may be a
good citizen ; eloquent on the love of order and
tlie rising glories of his native land ; gentlemanly
in his conversation, and unostentatious in his
general bearing, and of more actual importance
to his age and country than a score of zanies,
full of vanity, "la's," and rich food.
[Written for Gleason's Pictoiial.]
MY LAST MOMENT.
BY J. HUNT, JE.
I scarcely breathe ; now in a little while.
The cares of earth wUl vanish from my brain ;
No more will they my throbbing heart beguile.
Nor pierce my breast with deep, distressing pain.
My Right grows dim ! my pulse is ebbing fast,
And soon must cease its beat forevennore '.
My mind is frantic ! ah, 't is done ! 't is past !
The spark is fled, — death's stream is ferried o'er !
Ton sun wUl rise to-morrow na to-day ;
The stars will shine, and nature yearly bloom ;
The birds will sing, and upward soar away,
But I must slumber in a di-eamless tomb ;
" Thanks be to God 1" a faithful conscience cries,
" Thy soul lives on, for spirit never dies ["
THE MODERN LANGUAGES.
IMr. Walsh, a very competent judge, in one of
his letters, says : " The Spanish and English are
the only modern languages I would read, if at
full liberty to choose. There are Spanish hooks
that form, for me, a richer literary repast than
any other — Shakspeare's works excepted. It is
an old remark, that the trouble, whatever it might
be, of acquix'ing the tongue of Don Quixote was
amply compensated by the pemsal of his life and
doings in the original. "VYe might affirm the same
of the History of the Conquest of Mexico, by
Don Antonio de Solis. All the praise which
111*. Ticknor accords to the style of that author
is yet insufficient. To be duly sensible of the
superiority of the Spanish language, read the
Chevalier d'Azare's translation of Middleton's
Life of Cicero." — Philadelphia Saturday Post.
Angel forms may often hide
Spirits to the fiends allied.
Jilrs. M. St. Leon Loud.
136
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION,
A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED VIEWS OF SARATOGA AND ITS SPRINGS.
CONGRESS HALL AND SPKING, IN 1826.
SARATOGA SPRIIVGS.
Saratoga, world-renowned Saratoga, needs no
eulogium from our pen, to annouiue to the world
that it deservedly stands the first amonjj; the wa-
terinK-phiccs of our country. Sung in song,
described in story, the subject of tlie artist's pen-
cil and the poet's pen, it would be useless on our
part to trench upon the ground so often trod by
abler pens. "We shall content ourselves with
presenting to our readers a series of illustrations
of the most prominent objects of interest in the
village and neighborhood, with a slight sketch of
its liistory. Alien, in his analysis of the waters
of the various springs, published in 18,38, gives
the probable derivation of the word Saratoga
from Sali-rah-ka, which is said to mean " side-
hill," although he subsequently gives a copy of
the original conveyance of the land, called the
Patent of Kavaderosseras, made by "Joseph, the
Indian, by them called Te-jon-nin-ho-ge, and
Ilendrick, by them called De-hau-och-rak-has,
jirincipa! owners to David Schuyler and Robert
Livingston, Jr., yeomen of the city of Albany;''
in whicli patent we find the Indian name of Sar-
ogh-to-ge, which is most probably the true deri-
vation. This patent was given in 1702, although
it does not appear that any settlement was made
in the neighborhood of Saratoga until 1755,
when a fort was erected at the " great carrying
place," and called "Fort Edward." Soon after
this, settlers located themselves in various por-
tions of the county of Saratoga, and prospering
hamlets and thrifty farms took the place of tow-
ering forests and Indian hunting grounds. There
is no reliable tradition as to when the discovery
was first made, or by whom, of the peculiarprop-
erties of the waters in this neighborhood, and
although the Indian and the white hunter were
accustomed to lurk in the neighborhood in order
to take the deer, bears and other wild denizens
^^--^/^^
^JFf^lTi lift* i
UNITED STATES HOTEL, AT SARATOGA.
of the forest who resorted here in such great
numbers as to have beaten paths to the spring
from every direction, and although they must
have become acquainted with their medicinal
qualities, still no general information was dif-
fused in regard to them until 1767. In this year
General William Johnson — who had been in
command of the Britisli army operating in this
quarter against the French, and who had retired
with the title of baronet, and a wound which
troubled him for the rest of his days — finding no
relief from the limited means his neighborhood
afforded, was induced by the Indians, with whom,
we are told, he was a great favorite (he was
acting as Indian agent), to try the eflficacy of the
mineral waters. He started in the month of
June or July, and travelled through the woods
to the house of one Michael McDonald, who had
just settled at Ballston Lake. Here they tan-icd
over night, and reached High Rock Spring, then
the only one known, the next day. He tarried
here a number of days, and liia health was per-
fectly reinstated. The cure of so distinguished
a personage soon brought the springs, or rather
the spring, into notice, and it began to be the
resort of invalids from all parts of the country.
It is incompatible with our space to record tho
gradual settlement of Saratoga and its neighbor-
hood. It suffices our purpose to say that Iligh-
Eock and Flat-Rock were the only springs known
until 1792, when three gentlemen who were stop-
ing here for their health, one of whom was Mr.
J. T. Gilman, who was, or had been, a member
of Congress, and who were engaged in gunning,
discovered a small stream of water oozing from
the face of the rock a few feet west of the present
Congress Spring. Its taste and other qualities
satisfied them of its value, and it was, out of re-
spect to its discoverer, and in view of the strength
of its water, called CoNGitEss Spring.
■"■-/im Jirt
VIEW OF STANWIX, UNION, AND CONOIIESS HALLS.
GLEASON'S PICTOPvIAL DUAWIXCx ROOM COI^IPANION.
137
HIGH ROCK, EMPIRE, AJS^D IODINE SPRINGS.
The growing fame of the springs, and the
great and increasinij number of visitants, induced
a Mr. Putnam (one of tlie first settlers of Sara-
toga, and nn enterprising man) to build a com-
modious house for their accommodation. He
commenced it in 1800, and in 1802 Putnam's
Tavern (now called Union Hall) Wiis finished
and opened. In 1808 Jotham Holmes built the
Columbian Hotel, near the Flat-Rock, and in
1812 Mr. Putnam commenced the Congress Hall,
but in consequence of Mr. P.'s death it was not
finished until 1815 by one Graudus Van Schoon-
hoven. Such was the rapid increase of the pat-
ronage, however, that these were unable to ac-
commodate the visitors, and in 1819 the Pavilion
was opened by Mr. Lewis, and the United States
in 1824 by Mr. Eord. Ail of these establish-
ments have from time to time been enlarged and
improved, until they now rank among the largest
and most imposing in the United States, and for
good fare and polite attention will not suffer by
comparison with tliose of any country. The
village was incorporated in 1827 by the State
Legislature, and, possessing no advantages for
manufacturing or mercantile pursuits, is indebted
Bolely to its character as a " watering place" for
the advances it has heretofore made in improve-
ment and population.
Our first illustration is a copy of a water-color
sketch made by Judge Walton, which was found
in an old lumber room by the present proprietors
of Congress Spring, and I'epresents the appearance
of Congress Spring and Congress Kail in 1826.
The second picture represents a portion of the
south and east fronts of the United States Hotel,
but it would require thi-ee or four views to convey
to the reader any idea of the immensity of this
establishment. Bounding three sides of a square,
it encloses a large and spacious court-yard, filled
with trees and flowers, and aff'ording a delightful
retreat- in the heat of the day. A band of music
here daily discourses the sweetest music beneath
the spreading foliage. The front on Broad^vay
{east front) is 200 feet long; that on Division
street is 550 feet, while the rear wing, including
six cottages, which are let to private families,
measures GOO feet. The second story contiiins a
spacious ball-room, one of the finest in the coun-
try, 150 feet by 44, and 22 1-2 feet high. The
whole building contains 525 rooms, and every
season more are added. The present proprietors
are Messrs. James M. Marvin & Co.
The larger illustration on the opposite page
gives a view in Saratoga looking north-west, and
embraces Columbian Spring in tlie foreground,
and Stanwix, Union and Congress Halls. The
dome on the left of this picture covers the Co-
lumbian Spring. The water of this spring in its
physical properties generally, resembles the Con-
gress in all respects, excepting its saline impreg-
nation, which is evidently much less. The east
or Broadway front of Union Hall, shown in this
engraving, extends from the comer of Congress
street 198 feet, while on that street it has a front
•f 250 feet. It containsabout 175 feetof dining-
room and 250 rooms, and can seat at dinner in
one room 700 persons. On the right of the pic-
ture is seen a portion of Congress Hall.
Next in our series, is a view ot High-Rock,
Iodine and Empire Springs. The first of these
is the most important. Its circumference at the
base is 26 feet 8 inclies, and the opening at the
top is nearly circular, and measures 10 inches
across. Congress Spring, the subject of onr next
engraving, and the most important of the springs,
is situated near the Union and Congress Halls,
about eighty rods east of the Columbian Spring.
When first discovered it oozed through the face
of the rock, and a simple trough was constructed
by which the water ran into tumblers held to re-
ceive it. This did not satisfy the demand, and
attempts were made to obtain a larger supply.
which resulted in completely obstructing the flow
of the water, and for a time* the spring was sup-_
posed to be irretrievably lost. Mr. Putnam, ot
Union Hall, however, noticing bubbles of gas
breaking through the water of the neighbormg
brook, constructed a well surrounded by a curb,
and thus a supply greater than ever was obtained.
CONGRESS SPRING AND GROUNDS.
138
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for G1uu80U,'b rictorlul.J
SORROW.
DV 080AR a. UDQUAN.
Why UoHt thou como to mo, sorrow?
Why tloBt thou diu-kon my floul ;
Why tlOHt thou point to a morrow
Eugmvon on deetlny's BoroU?
ThouRhtB, 0 wliy mIII you wander
Uiick to the woarlsomo past ?
"Why will ye mournfully ponder,
Strcwiug thy hopes to tho blast?
Ih not tho sunshine of pleasure
Sliininp bright in tho pold-fringcd flky ;
Is not tho houpt'd up me;i8uro
Of peaco foaming bright to tho eyo?
Aro not tho clouda of your morning
Blown from tho firmament's rim ;
And tho tfturs, through the wide-spreading awning
Of earth, looliing joyously in?
Tliero are eras in mortal oxistenco,
That cannot be liglited with joy ;
But it gives to tlie spirit assistance
To discover its gold from alloy.
It guards ua from those who deceive,
Whose kisses aro deiith-tcUing blows ;
It teaches us not to believe
The horrid assertions of foes.
Then wolcomc, yo moments of sorrow,
As o'or me ye gloomily roll ;
Tho sun will be brighter to-morrow.
And calmer the dreams of the soul.
Wliile the stars from tho azure-roofed ceiling,
Shall chant out their anthems of bliss ;
While my spirit is calmly reveahng
Tho rapture not felt until this.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SILVIA MAZZANI:
— OR —
THE TUSCAN SISTEES.
BY STLVANUS COBB, JR.
In the southeast section of Tuscany, in a small
hamlet among the mountains of Sienna, lived a
poor goatherd named Antonio Mazzani. He
had two children, hoth girls, Lucetta and Silvia,
the formei" having seen her eighteenth hirthday,
while tlie latter was two years younger. The
season had been a disastrous one for Mazzani.
A fatal disease had made fearful ravages among
his flocks ; the small patch of oranges and figs,
and the little vineyard, had been subject to a
killing blight ; and when the autumn closed, he
found himself, not only without sufficient suste-
nance for the winter, but deeply involved in debt,
for the amount of which he had several months
previously pledged his cottage, his pastures and
bis tillage. Mazzani's creditor was the Count
Wiccoletto del Brin, a middle-aged man, of a
most decidedly repulsive appearance, and who
had, moreover, the reputation of being a hard-
hearted, wicked man.
It was early afternoon. Mazzmii, over whose
bronzed features the lines ar uouble were vividly
dra\vn, sat within his humble dwelling, and near
him sat the Count del Brin.
" Count," said the old man, with an expres-
sion that showed how much pain he suffered
from the statement he had to make, '* it is utter-
ly impossible that I should pay you this debt at
present. My flocks have been thinned, and my
crops have failed me. You surely can wait
another season."
" You trespass too much upon my kindness,
Mazzani."
" It is not me that trespasses, Ser Count ; a
power higher than mine has brought this about."
"But that is no reason that I should be the
loser. Our bargain had no such provisions. I
rented you land and sold you flocks, and you
were either to pay me in money, or by giving up
to mc this estate. It's all simple, isn't it ?"
" The contract is surely simple," returned
Mazzani, in faltering accents.
" And so is the settlement," laconically added
del Brin.
" The thing resolves itself into this," said the
old man, with a strong effort at calmness ; " you
must either wait till the next season, or I must
be cast out from my home, and myself and my
children made beggars."
"I cannot wait."
" Then I must be homeless."
" No. It can be settled in another manner."
" Ha!" uttered Mazzani, wliile a beam of hope
shot athwart liis countenance,
" Yes," continued the count, in a low, half-
whisporing tone. " You remember a circum-
stance to which I have before alluded."
The old man gazed inquisitively into the face
of his interlocutor, but he did not spcuk, for ho
seemed afraid so to do.
" I once asked you for the hand of your
daughter Lucetta," contiruied del Brin.
"And I refused it," said Mazzini, in a tono
more calm and firm than ho had before exhibited.
" Yes ; but now the case is different. Give
mc her hand now, and I will not only wait your
own lime for the payment of the debt, but I will
release you from one half of the amount."
" And would you make my child honorably
your wife V
" Yes. She is fair."
" But you are a count, and she a poor goat-
herd's daughter."
" Never mind that. Her beauty turns the
scale in her favor."
" I will call my daughter, Ser Count,"
"If you please."
The old man went to the door and called Jiis
daughter's name. She soon entered, but when
she saw the count she stopped, and a sudden
pallor overspread her features.
"Lucetta," said her father, "the Count del
Brin has asked of mc youi- hand in marriage.
He promises to make you honorably his wife.
Could you ever consent V
Slio was a beautiful girl towliom this question
was put, fair and faultless in form and feature,
and possessed of the expression that marks the
true and artless maiden. She started with a
shudder, and gazed into her father's face. There
was something in the strange, calm tone of the
old man, something in the firm-set expression of
his face, that struck terror to the poor girl's
heart, and glued her tongue in silence.
" My child," continued Mazzani, "could you
ever be happy as his wife V
" No, no ; I should be wretched, miserable !"
and as she thus murmured, she buried her face
in her parent's bosom.
Mazzani gently raised her head, and placing
his hand npon her brow, he looked for a moment
into her pain-dimmed eyes. The whole expres-
sion of his features changed as if by magic, and
then tm-ning to the count, he said :
" Ser Count, you have your answer."
" Do you refuse me her hand '?" asked Nicco-
letto del Brin, his face tiu*ning darker with rage
and chagrin.
" You hear what she has said."
" Then you refuse me 1"
" Yes."
"And you will be turned out from your
home !"
" Niccoletto del Brin," returned the old man,
with his hand still upon Lucetta's head, " my
house, my lands and my flocks I am not respon-
sible for. If blight and disease fall upon them,
they must go, and somewhere upon the earth I
may find a new home ; but God gave me my
children that I might make them happy, I have
no right to make them miserable, nor does the
wish dwell in my heart. Tliis sweet flower, once
^itheixd 'neath the blight of lasting misery, can
never be restored to me. You may take all else
of mine, but you cannot have my child."
" Then you must give up this place to me,"
said del Bi'in, rising from his seat, and gazing
angrily npon his debtor. " You have had your
choice, and you must now abide the consequen-
ces."
" 0, sir !" cried Lucetta, starting from her fa-
ther's side, and raising her hands towards the
count, " let us have time to think of this. I can
never love you, for you know that my heart is
already given to another ; but yet I cannot see
my poor old father cast homeless upon the
world."
" The decision may yet rest with you," re-
turned del Brin, a beam of sensual hope spring-
ing to his face.
" Only give mc time. Let mo see Francis-
co— "
" Hush, my child !" internipted her father,
while a bright tear glistened in either eye. " I
am now an old man, and I believe I never
wronged a human being, and now, now, I cannot
commence by so deeply wronging my own child.
No, no ; the sacrifice shall not be made."
" But you, father. I should do wrong to see
you turned a beggar upon the cold world. You
who gave me life, and have supported me through
helpless childhood."
"Lucetta, God has stricken my fiocks, but he
has not called npon me to bend you beneath a
lieavicr yoke. From honest poverty wo may
rise again, but from tho yoke this man would
place upon you, you could never be redeemed.
No ! my mind Ih made up. We will yet remain
together,"
" You have chosen your own road, and now
you may ti'avcl it," muttered del Brin, " I will
give you one week in which to vacate these prem-
ises. And let me tell you," he continued,
turning to Lucetta, " that you will have but; a
son-y Inisband in young Francisco Biscati, for I
have a hand upon him too.'*
There was a bitter reply upon the lips of the
old man, but he repressed it, and motioned for
his daughter to leave the room.
" You will repent of this," muttered the count,
between his clenched teeth.
" An honest man need never repent of having
done his duty," proudly returned Mazzani. "In
one week, sir, you sliall have the fulfilment of
your bond."
Count del Brin scowled upon the unfortunate
old man, and muttering a curse ho left the
cottage.
In the evening, Mazzani's little family were
assembled beneatli his roof, and with them was
young Frabcisco Biscati. The latter was en-
gaged in the same occupation that had given a
livelihood to Mazzani, and he had suffered from
the same causes that bad beset his old friend.
He held the hand of Lucetta in his own, and his
handsome features were darkened by a cloud of
anguish.
" And is it not enough that the hard-hearted
man should grasp upon our property without
seeking to drag our fairest maidens into the lust
of his power? No; beneath my own roof we
can all find shelter for the present, and should
worst come to worst, we can but take the chances
of thousands who have ere now been without
homes. Dear Lucetta, I would rather die than
give you up."
" You shall not," answered the fair girl, as
she returned her lover's ardent gaze. " Some-
thing must turn up to befriend us."
" Tell me," said Mazzani, breaking out from
a fit of absorbing thought, " how stands your
property, Francisco ? Del Brin hinted that ho
had a hand upon you."
" Alas ! and so he has. "Wlien the grand
duke gave him this extensive grant, my place
came in with the rest. I did not buy of him as
you did, but I fear that I shall have no means to
pay my rent, but that does not fall due till spring,
and by that time — "
The young man hesitated, for the hope he
would have pictured had no back ground.
" I fear you will be worse off" than now," the
old man concluded for him.
" Perhaps you speak the truth," despondently
assented Francisco. "But, at all events, we can
raise enough to support us till that time.'*
" No, no," returned Mazzani, " that cannot be.
I can never consent to live upon the result of
your hard labor. As it is, you may make out
to pay your rent in the spi'ing, but you cannot
do it if I drag upon you during the whole long,
wet winter. I will betake mc to the mountains,
and gain my sustenance from the forests. I
could hunt when I was young, nor am I too old
yet."
There was one there who had not yet spoken,
and that was Silvia Mazzani. She was equally
as fair as her elder sister, though somewhat
more slight in her frame. Her eyes were darker
tlian Lucetta's, and larger, and they sparkled
with a fire of intensity that never gleamed in the
other's. Her hair was black, too, as the plum-
age of the raven, and it hung in trembling, curl-
ing ringlets over her shoulders. Few, if any,
had ever read her character aright. Her six-
teenth birthday had found lier a half-wild, way-
ward creature, jealous of restraint, ever wander-
ing among the wildest of her native scenery,
and listening for hours to the murmur of the
brooklet, or the song of the mountain bird.
When her father spoke, she had been standing
at the little latticed window, gazing off at tlie
point where tho bold Apennines stood up against
the evening sky, but as he closed, she turned
quickly aboiit, and started towards the centre of
the room.
" Would you wear out the evening of your
life among yonder mountains'?" she asked, with
a depth of expression that startled her three
companions.
" If the good of my children require it, yes,"
returned the old man. "I cannot see you cast
unprotected and unprovided for upon the world."
" Nor shall your children see you suffering
fiuch an existence for their sakes," exclaimed
SUvia, with increasing enthusiasm. Sixteen
years have 1 lived upon your labor — "
"No, no, my child; you have been a help to
mc, a 80U1CL' of joy and comfort, the ycry foun-
tain, you and Lucetta, of my soul's happiness."
" And yet we have lived upon ytjurhard labor.
To bo sure, since our poor motlicr died, we have
helped to tend your flocks, and have gathered
your olives, but that waa mere sport — it was
pastime for us. The time has now come when
we eiiould lielp our father. His days are draw-
ing to the silvery night of an honest life, age hag
marked him witli its weighty finger, and a giant
evil hangs over him. Lucetta, you shall stay
and nurse him, and be a companion to Francis-
co, while I go forth and gather for him suste-
nance. If we all live for one moi-e year, he shall
yet dwell beneath the shelter of his own home —
a home from which the hand of God alone can
turn him forth."
Mazzani, Lucetta and Francisco were, for a
moment, confounded by this outpouring of the
young girl's soul. The old man was the first to
break the silence, and while the big tears rolled
doAvn his cheeks, he asked :
" Silvia, my child, what would you V
" Save my father."
" I know you would if yon could, and, per-
haps, your wild, untaught fancy points your
mind to some airy castle you fain would build.
Ah ! my daughter, you are too young."
"Father, listen to me. With my voice I can
call the birds from their haunts, and chain even
the wild chamois with my melody. The good
monks of Saint Montani have wondered at my
vocal powers, and the abbot has given me much
instmction. I will go to Florence. I will work
for some good teacher, and gain more instruction.
I will, I will—"
" My child, my child," murmured the old man,
clasping the inspired girl to his bosom, " you are
too young ; but God bless you for your noble
heart!"
" Father," exclaimed Silvia, brushing away
her tears, " did you ever know mc to resolve to
do a wrong thing 1"
"No."
" And did I ever undertake a thing without
succeeding ?"
" No."
" Then upon this I am resolved. Do not at-
tempt to dissuade me from it. The monks will
assist me, and help me on my way."
" But the distance, my child."
" The good abbot says it is but seventy-five
miles."
" And how will you make that 1"
" As I have learned to clamber my own native
mountains," returned Silvia, with a look of burn-
ing, flashing pride. " Let it be as I have said.
Lucetta shall stay with you, and she shall be all
here that we could both be. Say, my sister, shall
it not be so?"
Lucetta stepped forward, and threw her arms
about lier sister's neck. She remonstrated, she
argued, and she pleaded, but it was with relenting
tones, and erethefamily retired to rest that night,
Silvia Mazzani had carried her point.
In a few days the young heroine had made all
the preparations for her departure. The kind
monks, with whom she had ever lx;en a favorite,
had furnished her with a sum of money sufficient
to meet her immediate expenses, and the abbot
had given her a letter to Bernardo Maletti, a
Florentine chorister. She received the parting
blessings of her father and sister, felt their tears
bedewing her cheeks, and with a parting adieu,
she turned away. She dared not look npon the
cottage of her childhood, till she had reached a
point where she could neither see nor hear the
grief of her friends, and when she reached that
spot, she stopped and tuiTied. A prayer trem-
bled upon her lips, her eyes were turned a mo-
ment heavenward, and then she sped on. A
new and strange world was before her.
Before dark she reached a small village, a
short distance from An-azzo, where she spent tho
night. She told her simple story to the host.
He knew the bad cliaracter of Del Brin, and ho
would take nothing for her food or lodging; but,
on the next moa'uing, he procured her a convey-
ance, as far as Figlino, in a hea^-y market wagon.
This simple act taught her that the world was
not all had, and that there were many kind
licarts even among strangers ; and, moreover, it
gave her new strength and courage.
Her companion of the market wagon was a
generous, talkative follow, full of anecdote and
GLEASON'S PICTOniAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
139
Story, and after he had talked for an horn-, ho
attempted to entertain his young companion with
a song. She could not but smile, and yet it was
a pathetic ballad he had sung, and one, too,
which bore strongly upon Tuscan sympathy.
" Tou sraile," said the singer, with a slight
figure in his manner.
" Pardon me, sir. I was thinking if I could
sing that same song."
" Try it ; and if you do it as well as I did, I'll
promise you not to laugh."
Silvia commenced the song. The very trees
seemed redolent with music, and the air was
fairly filled mth the soft cadence of her rich
voice. At the end of the first verse, the listener
let fall his hands upon his knees, and by the time
she had finished the piece, the Iiorses were pick-
ing theu' own way. The man's lips trembled,
and his bosom swelled. In his simple nature he
bad learned of no applause, save such as the soul
lets out upon the speaking features. At length
he picked up his reins, and made out to utter :
" I shall never sing again. My voice would
frighten me !"
" O, yes, yes ! You must sing to me," said
Silvia, who was really delighted with her com-
panion's simple and touching compliment.
The man did sing again, and then his passen-
ger sang, and thus passed the time till near noon,
when they arrived at Figlino. Here Sihia got
her dinner, and wlien she offered to pay for it,
she was informed that the wagoner had already
paid it. She would have thanked her kind fi-iend
for this modest mark of his favor, but he had
gone. That night she stopped within ten miles
ofthe Ai-no, and before noon on the next day
she entered the city of Elorence.
She had no difficulty in finding out the resi-
dence of Maletti, and what was more fortunate
still, he was also the director of the grand opera.
Maletti read the letter from the monk, and then
he listened to Silvia's story, which seemed to in-
terest him much.
" So you think you can make a singer?" he
said, in his usual business way.
" I can try, sir," was the modest reply.
" That's something gained. Now let'^ hear
your voice."
The young girl trembled, for she felt herself to
be in the presence of the man who was to raise
or blast her hopes forever, and he did really re-
gard her with a stern and cool expression ; but
she had yet courage enough left to make the
trial, however, and she sang one of her native
ballads.
Not a muscle of Maletti's countenance changed,
and Silvia's heart almost sank within her. That
was the prettiest thing she knew, for it breathed
the air of her native hills.
" Do you know any otiier kind of music ?"
" A little, sh*, that some of the monks have
taught me."
" What is it V
" I know some of Soriano's canons upon the
Ave Maria Stella,"
" Ah !" and the chorister*s face started slight-
ly from its cold aspect. " Sing me one of
them."
Silvia obeyed. Her tone may have trembled,
but it detracted nothing from the power of the
singer's voice. The monks of St. Montani had
understood most thoroughly the beauties of Sori-
ano's sacred canons, and their young pupil had
not forgotten the instructions they had freely
given her, and given her, too, when she little
thought that they would ever be of use to her.
As she closed the trembling cadence, where the
voice dies away like the whispering of distant
angels, the old director held his breath, but
neither his features nor tongue spoke the senti-
ments of his soul. For a full minute he gazed
into the girl's face in silence — it seemed an age
to her.
" So you seek to save your father from beg-
gary"?" he said, at length, while an almost im-
perceptible spark of kindness gleamed in his eye.
" My father and sister, sir, and myself too,"
Silvia returned, in a tremulous tone.
" What dresses have you V
" The one I liave on, and — "
" Never mind. I suppose you have on your
best."
"We were poor, sir, — very poor." And as
the girl spoke, a pearly drop rolled down her
fair check.
" Yes, yes ; I see. I know — . We can find
you a dress at the opera. — We have a rehearsal
this afternoon ; you shall go with me ; you will
be delighted, — You never heard a large orches-
tra ?"
"No, sir."
Twice slie attempted to speak further before
she succeeded, aud even tlien it was almost an
inaudible whisper.
" Can I sing, sir 1"
" Sing ?" echoed the director, starting up from
his seat. " Sing 1" and then he stood and looked
at the trembling applicant. " Sing ? Yes, lil:e
a seraph .'"
Silvia Mazzani sank into a chair, completely
overpowered by the emotions that raged in her
soul.
The people of Florence were startled one day
by the announcement of a "Jirst appearance" at
the opera, and the director had not forgotten to
state all the particulars connected with the fair
debutante: her sufferings ; the aflftction that led
her to seek the public sympathy, and the beauties
of her voice, etc.
The evening amved. The immense opera
house was packed. The first piece went off" with
the usual amount of applause. The director
came to Sihia Mazzani and bade her prepare.
Her first piece was to be one of the sweet nation-
al ballads of her own land, and she had rehearsed
it with the orchestra several times. She heard
the tinkling of a hell, and in a moment more a
man came and spoke to Maletti.
" Courage, coiu'age," whispered the director.
" The cm'tain is up. Look at the people and
smile, but try to make them appear like the trees
of your native mountains. I will introduce you.
Come !"
Silvia was led upon the stage. She saw one
blaze of gorgeous light, through wdiich gleamed
a myriad jewels, and she saw faces, too, and she
thought they beamed kindly upon her. Then
came the sound of thundering feet and clapping
hands. Instinctively she courtesied, and moved
toward the foot-lights ; then the orchestra com-
menced a plaintive symphony, and the anxious
audience were still as the grave.
Poor Silvia would have resigned all her hopes
to have been at that moment at her home. She
was bewildered — frightened. Tmce she at-
tempted to sound the first note, but it came not
forth.
" Remember T/ow poor beggared father I" fell in a
low tone upon her ears.
She tm'ned towards the wing and saw the
director. The blood came rushing once more to
her face ; her heart leaped up from beneath the
leaden weight; she took another step foi-ward,
and then she commenced. At the end of the
first verse, the stage was literally groaning be-
neath its weight of flowers, and as she saw the
kind looks that greeted her upon all hands, she
took courage. The effort was over; she had
passed the fearful ordeal, and once more she was
alone, but yet the ponderous walls were trem-
bling with the shouts of applause that awoke the
very thunders of heaven from their rest.
ilaletti was again by her side.
" You must go on again," he said. " The
people must have that song once more. Cour-
age, courage, Silvia, for you have nobly con-
quered. Every heart in Florence will be yours
in a week !"
Winter, with its cold rains and bleak winds,
had passed away, and genial spring was smiling
upon the mountains, the hills, the vales, and the
streams of Tuscany. The gentle breeze laughed
amid the foliage ; the warm sunlight danced o'er
the budding vines and blossoming trees, and na-
ture once more sat robed in her garments of regal
power. But amid all this loveliness and beauty,
there were sad and heavy hearts.
Within the cottage of Francisco Biscati, to-
wards tlie middle of the day, were collected An-
tonio Mazzani, Lucetta and Francisco, and, mth
his back against the window, stood Niccoletto
del Brin. Old Mazzani sat upon a low stool,
with his fun'owed brow resting upon his open
palms ; his daughter knelt by liis side, with her
right hand upon her father's knee, while with the
other she was endeavoring to remove his hands
from his brow. The young man was standing
close by, gazing with intense agony upon the
scene.
" Fathei", dear father, arouse from this des-
pondency. Life is yet left to us."
"Ay, Lucetta, and what a life it must be! We
are beggars, and we have been the means of
dragging Francisco do^^m with us."
"Antonio Mazzani," pronounced the young
man, stepping forward and laying his hand upon
the old man's shoulder, "if you love me, never
let me hear that word again. You have not
dragged me down. Fate has taken from us our
means, and this cruel man has done the rest."
Del Brin scowled fiercely upon the young
speaker, and, with a cm-l of scorn about his lips,
he rcturaed :
"This is all of your own choosing. I once
offered you the means of redemption, and you
refused them. Now you reap the consequences.
And even yet, if you give me the hand of Lucet-
ta, you shall have your homes again."
At tlie sound of that voice, old Mazzani start-
ed to his feet.
" Out upon thee !" he exclaimed, as he turned
his full gaze upon the count. " The vulture
does not wed the dove for good, neither does the
Tuscan noble seek the hand of the goatherd's
daughter with lionorable intent. Beggaiy is bad
enough, but to be childless — ay, worse than child-
less— would be insufferable. Del Brin, take the
cottage, the lands, and the flocks, and then I
would not change places mth thee."
"AndliaV/ take them. You have had fan-
warning; your time is up. Go forth now, beg-
gai's that yc are, ere you are tmiied out by
force !"
" Come, Lucetta — "
*' No, no ; he will not turn us out. 0, father,
Francisco, let me be the sacrifice!"
Del Brin smiled a grim smile.
" Never," firmly said the old man. " I would
rather lay you down beneath the mountain forest,
there to rest till the resurrection morn. Come,
we will go."
Mazzani took his child by the hand as he
spoke, and would have led her forth, but at that
moment the sound of coach wheels was heard in
the road, and ere long a splendid vehicle drew
up near the cot. Del Brin turned to look out at
the window, and while yet the old man wonder-
ed at this strange arrival, a richly-dressed female
rushed into the apartment.
" Father, sister, Francisco !" she cried, and
with one bound she hung upon Mazzani's neck.
Then she sprang to the half stupified Lucetta,
and laughed and cried as she twined her arms
about her.
It was Silvia Mazzani, and as her bright
presence shed its halo about the place, the old
man knew that he was saved. Lucetta knew
that she was redeemed, while Francisco, iu the
nobleness of his soul, thought only of the happi-
ness he witnessed.
" Come, arc you going'?" uttered Del Brin,
with a bitter curse upon his lips.
" Ah ! here is the count himself," said Silvia,
with a sudden change of manner to a queenly
grace and dignity. " So you are still at your
persecutions, I see."
" O, sister can you redeem our poor old
father's home V murmured Lucetta.
"It's too late now," interrupted Del Brin,
with a stamp of his foot, " The places ai-c both
forfeited."
" Not quite so fast, Ser Count," said Silvia,
with a pi'oud look. " Here is a letter from the
Grand Duke Ferdinand. Read that ere you
make up your mind on that point."
The count took the letter, and with a nervous
hand, he tore it open. As he read it his cheek
blanched, and he trembled from head to foot.
Silvia waited till he had read it through, and
then she said :
" The same conveyance, Count del Brin, that
brought me, will take you back to Florence,
though I had not expected to find you so
readily."
Two of the ducal guards, who had attended
Silvia, were called into the cottage, and ere long,
Del Brin was on his way to the Palazzo Vecchia.
Silvia Mazzani sat down with her now happy
friends, and told them all that had passed since
she left her native roof. Her first reception in
Florence had been the means of sealing for her
a brilliant fate. The native sweetness of her
voice had chained all souls ; the depth of her
pathos had brought all hearts at the shrine of her
genius ; and the generosity, the modesty, the
loveliness of her nature had not failed to create
friends and admirers on all hands. The Grand
Duke Ferdinand had become her especial patron ;
and upon her representation to him of the char-
acter and doings of the Count del Brin, he had
ordered the appearance of the latter at the ducal
palace.
Silvia spent a month at home, and during that
time she bought both the estates u]jon which her
father and Francisco had lived, and ere she re-
turned again to the profession she had adopted,
she had the satisfaction of seeing Francisco and
Lucetta united, her fi\ther made happy and bless-
ed in his old age, an^flnpf knowing that the
Count Niccoletto del B^Pnad been deprived of
his extensive grant of land in Sienna.
Silvia Mazzani had filled the whole of south-
em Europe witli her fame, when the inducements
of a young Florentine noble drew her from the
public ; but as a wife and mother, a friend and
neighbor, she still shines in the bright social cir-
cles of Florence, an oniament to society, and a
striking example of what a loving and true-
hearted woman can accomplish.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRIBUTE TO HENRY W. LONGFELLOW,
BY CHAKLES LELAND PORTER.
I 've listened to thy magic numbers,
I 've dwelt upon their winning power
When other souls were ^vrapt in slumbers,
When darkness veiled the midnight hour.
I 've seen the good ship, strong and true,
Proudly embrace the yielding billow j
While thy noble bark was yet in view,
How could I press my waiting pillow !
Ay, many yet will Hve to praise,
And life will have its joyous hours ;
Thou givest a pleasure to our days,
Thy Psalm hath strewn the way with flowers.
Hope leaps exulting in each bosom,
We can but feel that " life is earnest;"
Thy poesy will proudly blossom
Long after thou " to dust returnest."
Thy name is written, not on sand,
Nor yet upon the yielding waters ;
'Tis found throughout our native land,
On the hearts of all her sons and daughters.
The world hath ^ong pronounced thee Fame's,
Mountains send back, the glad reply ;
" One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not boni to die I"
PARAGON OF A M'lFE.
I doubt if Adam was much stronger or happier
when he was created than is my brother at this
moment ; and I don't believe Eve was half as
strong lunged and energetic as my new sister-in-
law. Why, she oils the tables, and makes tho
jam, and prepares the breakfast, and makes tho
butter, and glorifies in the dinner, and attends in
all particulars to the affairs of the household, as
if neither canker nor consumption were on tho
earth. From morning till night she is all ener-
gy, all life, all decision, and strong heartedness.
And then, as to being at ease — if she had been
bom married she couldn't be more so. There is
not a quailing of eye, nor a trembling of nerve —
so far as I can see — in her conquering life ; for
she goes forth like a conqueror. She is inex-
pressible ; as if she never knew what a doubt
meant. Then she is so well-looking. Brown-
eyed, small-eared, with a gracious expression;
and such rich wavy hair, in its neat braids or its
graceful aboundingness, I almost feel as if she
might have contended the point with Cceur de
Lion or Saladin. I am beside myself with ad-
miration and astonishment. And when she
makes the jam, she does not mix diiferent sorts
of apples ; and her custards arc delicious ; and
her pies are not only good, but pretty. And
she makes catsup. 0, you can't think what a
paragon she is ! Then she wTites letters, and
despatches them ; and makes my brother put up
his cap, and keep tidy ; and she says : " Hisk,
out of that, cat!" loud enough to destroy the
nerves of a delicate cat. And she minds the
dairy; and feeds the calves; and sends her young
sister Mary up and down, and round about ; and
gives stirabout to beggars, and sends them about
then business in the most unexceptionably clever
manner. I never was so stiiick do\vn with as-
tonishment as at the sight of this girl ; and, with
all, she is never excited — never at all surprised.
— Letters from Home.
[Written for Gleason's Tictorial.]
LINES TO NATURE.
BT jr. ALFOED.
Nature's pure and holy work
Needs not patch, nor paint, to win
The admiration of man's discerning eye.
When nature, kind, displays her skill,
And frames a heavenly face and mien ;
How vain to counteract her will,
Where angel features might be seen !
Her beauty needs no mortal aid,
It ever brightens in the good ;
Believe me, nature never made
A gay coquette, or formal prude.
The glare of tinsel vanity,
The shallow mind may chance approve ;
But Fensc and heaven-born modesty
Must win the soul, the seat of love.
The blooming girl whom these adorn,
Her sex's folly marks with shame ;
While radiant as the rays of mom,
lines forth in her sweet nature's fame,
< ^a^ >
RICHES.
Riches oftentimes, if nobody takes them away,
make to themselves wings and flyaway; and
truly, many a time the undue sparing of them is
but letting their wings grow, which makes them
ready to flyaway; and the contributing a part
of tliem to do good only clips their wings a lit-
tle, and makes them stay tlie longer with their
owner. — Leighion ,
140
CxLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
ANNUAL FESTIVAL OF THE GRAZIERS. AT GRENOBLE.
ANNUAL FESTIVAL OF THE GRAZIERS AT GRENOBLE.
In the engraving above, we give a representation of a usage of
long standing among the farmers of Granges, in the precincts of
Grenoble, who are accustomed, annually, on the 23d of January,
to bring their dauphins, or offerings, to the honorary members of
their society, with great pomp, accompanied by military music.
The dauphins, so named on account of this emblem of Dauphine
which they represent, are cakes covered with nonpariels ; they are
placed under a canopy of silk and flowers, in the basket which
figures in the car, decorated with wreaths of fir, and drawn by
twelve pair of splendid oxen, wearing bunches of ribbon on their
horns. Four young girls dressed in white are seated in the four
corners of the car, the first bearing a sheaf and sickle, the second
flowers, the third fruit, and the fourth a distaff. At the back of
the car, an old man, the Nestor of the community,
is entrusted with the cakes.
actual, and sought by practical means, in harmonj' with public
sentiment, to promote the public interest. Recognizing in the
social and political system the essential elements of stability and
progress, he discerned the office oi' the conservative and the re-
former ; but he saw, also, that a bl?.id conservatism was not less
destructive than a blind reform. He was the faithful supporter
of common schools, the glory of New England. By word and
example he sustained the cause of temperance. Some of his most
devoted labors, commencing in the legislature of Massachusetts,
were for the abolition of capital punishment. With its final
triumph, in the progress of civilization, his name will be indisso-
lubly connected, in harmony with these noble reforms was the
purity of his private life; there he was blameless. In manners,
he was modest, simple and retiring. In conversation, he was dis-
HON. ROBERT RANTOUL, JR,
We can give no better sketch of Mr. Rantoul's life
than to quote from Hon. Charles Sumner's eulogy
pronounced lately in Congress. He was bom August
13th, 1805, at Beverly, in the county of Essex, the
home of Nathan Dane. Here, under happy auspices
of family and neighborhood, he commenced life.
His excellent father, honored for his public senices,
venerable also in years and flowing silver locks, yet
lives to mourn his last surviving son. The sad for-
tune of Burke is renewed. He who should have been
as posterity, is now to this father in the place of an-
cestry. Mr. Rantoul was early a member of the
legislature of Massachusetts, and there won his first
fame. For many years he occupied a place in the
Board of Education in that State. He was also, for
a time. Collector of the port of Boston, and after-
wards attorney of the United States for Massachusetts.
During a brief period he held a seat in the senate, and
finally, in 1851, by the choice of his native district,
remarkable for its intelligence and public spirit, he
became a representative in the other branch of our
national legislature. In all these spheres he performed
most acceptable service, and the future promised
opportunities of a higher character, to which his abili-
ties, industry and fidelity would have amply respond-
ed. Massachusetts has many arrows in her well-
stocked quiver, but few could she so illy spare at this
moment as the servant we now mourn. By original
fitness, by study, knowledge and experience, he was
formed for public service, but he was no stranger to
other pursuitR. Early devoted to the profession of
the law, he followed it with assiduity and success.
In the antiquities of our jurisprudence, few were more
learned, and his areumenis at the bar were thorough.
Nor were his intelligence and promptness in all emer-
gencies of a trial easily surpassed. Literature, ne-
glected by many under the pressure of professional
duties, was always cultivated by him. His taste for
books was enduring. He was a constant student,
amidst bis manifold labors, profeagipjial and public.
He was a reformer in the warfare -0^ evil. He was
enlisted earnestly and openly as a soldier for life. As
such, he did not hesitate to encounter opposition, to
meet obloquy, and to brave his enemies. His eon-
science, pure as goodness, sustained him in evei-y
trial, even that sharpest of all, the desertion of
friends ; and yet while earnest in his cause, bis zeal
was tempered beyond that of the common reformer.
He knew well the difference between the ideal and the
posed to listen rather than to speak, though all were well pleased
when he broke silence, and in apt language declared his glowing
thoughts. But in the public assembly, before the people, he was
bold and triumphant. As a debater, he rarely met his equal.
Fluent, earnest, rapid, incisive, his words at times came forth like
a flashing scimitar. Few could stand against him ; he always
understood his subjects, and then, clear, logical and determined,
seeing bis point before him, pressed forward with unrelenting
power. His speeches were enriched by study, and contained pas-
sages of beauty — but he was most tnily at home in dealing with
practical questions arising from exigencies of life. Few had
studied public aftairs more intelligibly. As a constant and effec-
tive member of the Democratic party, he had become conspicuous
by the championship of its doctrines. There was no topic of na-
tional moment that did not interest him. Northwest-
ern and Western interests were near his heart. As
the distant pioneer, resting from his daily labors,
learns the death of Eantoul, he will feel a personal
grief. Tlie fishermen on our Atlantic coast, many of
whom are dwellers in his district, will sympathize
with the pioneers of the west. And as these hardy
children of the sea, returning from their late adven-
tares, hear the sad tidings, they mil feel that they
have lost a friend — and well they may. During his
last fitful hours of life, while reason struggled against
disease, he was anxious for their welfare. The speech
which in their behalf he had hoped soon to make on
the floor of Congress, was then chasing through his
mind. Finally, in broken utterances, he gave to them
some of his last earthly thought,*!. The death of such
a man, so suddenly in mid career, is well calculated
to aiTcst attention and to furnish emollition. From
the love of family, the attachment of friends, and re-
gard of fellow-citizens he has been removed — leaving
behind the cares of life, the concerns of state, and the
wretched strife of party. In person, Mr. Eantoul was
of medium height, of spare figure, and restless activ-
ity both of mind and body. His manner of speaking
was peculiar to himself; with great rapidity of utter-
ance, his sentences were simple in their construction,
and his language selected less witli reference to orna-
ment than to strength. Devoted to his profession
and studies, of abstemious habits, great nurity of
character, the friend of all moral movement! of soci-
ety, he was snatched away in the prime of life when
his talents, matured by earnest study, were unfolding
themselves to the world with much power. His re-
mains left Washington, Sunday afternoon, the 8th,
and reached his native place, Beverly, on the even-
ing of Monday. The funeral took place the follow-
ing day. It was very numerously attended by the
citizens both of Beverly and the neighboring towns.
The remains were placed, during the funeral services,
in the porch of the church, the metallic coffin which
enclosed them being tastefully decorated with flowers.
All the places of business were closed during the day,
and the town hall, the post-office, and many of the
shops and residences of the citizens were draped in
mouming. The desk in the church was festooned
with black, and other insignia of mourning decorated
the sacred edifice. Rev. James W. Thompson, D.D.,
of Salem, pronounced an eloquent oration, in which
he spoke in glowing terms of the character iind influ-
ence of the departed; and at its close, the procc:-sion,
which was very lengthy, then commenced its march
toward the cemetery, and committed to its kindred
earth, the mortal remains of the departed statesman.
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
141
TREDERICK GLEASON, Prophietoe.
MATTJRIN M. BALLOTJ, Editoe.
CONTENTS OF OUR NEXT NU3IBER.
" Oorrinne Almanza, or the Msigimn of Seville,'' a Ro-
mance of SpuiD, Itjily and EHgliinil, by Frederick. Hunter.
This is the title of a new novelette which will be com-
menced the ensuing week in the Pictorial, from the pen
of the popular author above named.
"The Princess Ayesha. or the Thousand and Second
Night," a story translated from the French for uh, by
Akne T. Wildur.
"Travels iu Palestine, No. 2. entitled ' The Journey to
Jerusalem,' " by Itev. F. W. Holland.
" Conclusive Evidence," a humorous and witty sketch,
by the Old -XJy.
"The liescue," a story, by Dr. J. H. UoEiNSON.
" Autographs and Autography," being the commence-
ment of a fine serius of articles relative to distinguished
individuals, and giving genuine autographs of each. By
William Edward Knowles. Among the number to ap-
pear in our next papur will be those of W. H, C. Hosmer,
H. Ladd Spencer. .Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, Francis C. Wood-
worth, Edward Everett, Jared Sparks, Thomas H. Stock-
ton, W. E. Chaniiing, Rev. John Pierpont, Rufus Dawes,
Judge Tucker and Caroline Clicsebro".
*' Lines to a Streamlet," by E. CuRTiss HiNE, U. S. N.
"The Auburn Tress," verses, by F- C. S. Uurlbut.
" Shadows of the Past," hues, by J. H. Butler.
" The Summer Time," Hues, by C. Jillson-
"The Dying Girl," verses, by M^ar J- Cullen.
"The Broken Tie," lines, by Caroune A. Uatdkn.
" I am not Lost," a poem, by De Fletcher Hdnton.
ILLUSTRATIOITS.
An admirable and very effective picture of the Univer-
sity between Wa-^hington Place and Waverly Place, New
York. Drawn by our artist, Mr. Wade.
An interesting picture of Elvira, the country seat, in
South America, occupied by General Flores.
A second South American scene, entitled the Young
Artist of Quito, making sketches in the street.
A third picture of the same series, representing the Trav-
elling Costume of a lady of Guayaquil.
A fourth engraving in the same series, representing the
Church at Bodega, a small town in South America..
A fifth picture, representing Traders upon the Water,
in their peculiar boats, selUng oranges, pine-apples, etc,
A sixth scene, presenting a view of the FloatingHouses
and Canoes, and buildings of Raft Houses, and the Uke, at
Guayaquil.
A large and fine picture of Girard College, Philadelphia,
drawn by our artist, Mr. Devereaux, on the spot, forming
a most adniLnible scene of this structure.
A likeness of John R. Scott, the tragedian, in character,
as Ingom;u:, in the well known play which Mrs, Mowatt
has rendered so popular.
A capital likeness of Mr. Thrasher, lately imprisoned
and released after being sent to Spain, and having his
property confiscated in Cuba, by the tyrants of that beau-
tiful island. By our artist, Mr. Rosenberg.
A bird's eye view of Fort Independence, Boston harbor,
drawn by our artist, Mr. Mailory. A very fine maritime
scene.
A faithful and excellent likeness of Mr. 0. Sackett, the
Yankee Card Writer, by our artist, Mr. Rowse.
A picture of the Sierra Madre, between Monterey and
Saltiilo. A very interesting and characteristic scene.
An excellent view of Saratoga Lake, situated a short
distance from the village of the springs. Dra^vn for us by
our artist, Mr. Cliapin.
A large and faithful picture of the Cape Cod Associa-
tion's Celebration, which lately took place at Province-
town, on the Cape. Dniwn by our artist, Mr. Rowse.
SPLINTEES.
.... McKean Buchanan, the American actor,
has been somewhat successful in England.
Pilot boat Marshal Tukcy has been pur-
chased by the Mobile pilots.
Mr. Rantoul's life was insured at the
British Life Insurance ofiice, Boston, for SlO,000.
We see that Miss Davenport is under-
^ned at Drury Lane Theatre, London.
A Miss Lindsay was thrown out of a
carriage in Providence and killed, the other day.
Providence smiles on those who roll up
thcii- sleeves, and put their shoulders to the wheel.
. . . John Gilbert and wife are engaged at
Chestnut St. Theatre, Philadelphia, this winter.
Tlic best dentist hi Paris is an American,
as are several of the most eminent in Europe.
The Ravels are dosing the Bostoniaus
with their famous "Magic Pills."
The last news from California is as usual
mixed up with much gold and many deaths.
The little folks are perfectly delighted
with Blitz and his birds, at Amory Hall.
What has passed Congress this season ■?
Eight months or more ! That's all.
The first theatrical performance in Amer-
ica was produced at Williamsburg, Va,, in 1752.
.... The Hudson River steamers ai'C said to
continue racing.
The Webster party still give signs of
considerable vitality,
The stock company for the new National
Theatre will be a good one.
Everybody has been rusticating, and
" evei7body " is now expected home.
CAMP SEAVEiL
The Fifth Regiment of Ai-tillery, Col, Robert
Cowdin commanding, went into camp on Boston
Common, a few days since, to perform their two
days' camp duty, as required by law. The
ground improved for this object was situated at
the foot of the Common, near Charles Street,
:.'.ud the camp fronted Beacon Street, occupying
a space measuring six hundred and seventy-five
feet long, by two hundred and seventy-five feet
broad. The whole was laid out after the most
thorough military plan, and to the best advan-
tage, by the commanding officer, who has shown
much judgment and skill in the duty of a sol-
dier. Col. Cowdin is no " vain carpet knight;"
he 's a soldier in the true sense of the term, exer-
cising the most thorough discipline over his com-
mand, and this, too, by the force of his own char-
acter, rather than by the adoption of any rigid
practical measures. The camp, as it lay in the
most perfect order, with its full battery of six
field pieces, presented a most martial and pictur-
esque appearance. And when illuminated, as it
was in the evening, it was a very beautiful and
novel sight.
Our artist has given us a most excellent and
truthful view of the camp, drawn on the spot,
which will be found on the last page of the
present number. The officers of this regiment
are as follows : Colonel, Robert Cowdin; Lieut.
Colonel, H. W. Usher ; Major, Caleb Page ; Ad-
jutant, Samuel S. Chase; Quartermaster, F. A.
Heath ; Paymaster, A. Partridge ; Surgeon, Jas.
A. Phipps ; Surgeon's Mate, C. E. Buckingham ;
Sergeant Major, James S. Carey ; Chaplain, Rev.
Otis A. Skinner ; Quartermaster's Sergt., James
Singleton; Music, Suffolk Brass Band, P. S.
Gilmore, Band Master.
The companies were all very full, averaging
over fifty men in each, and comprising five com-
panies. Of the evolutions and militai-y exercise,
we have heard but one opinion expressed, and
that was of the most complimentary character.
As to the orderly and systematic manner in
which the entire camp duty was performed, it
was highly creditable to all concerned. Every
man, from the commanding officer to the lowest
private, seemed to endeavor to perform their
duty and to respect themselves. During the ipne
of encampment, they were reviewed by Governor
BoutweD, accompanied by his aids and others.
We regret that want of room prevents us from
saying more of this encampment, for the excel-
lent manner in which it was conducted deserves
the highest encomiums of praise, and is a worthy
example to hold up for future like occasions.
CHOIiERA.
Reports are circulated of numerous deaths over
tJie country, from cholera, dysentery, and kin-
dred complaints, always more or less prevalent
during the hot, unripe fruit season. Eighteen
persons are reported to have died of cholera in
one building iu Rochester, from Saturday to
Monday morning. An examination of the pre-
mises explained the cause. The basement was
damp, and closely shut up. The wonder is that
people could have lived there so long. Pure air,
cleanliness, moderate indulgence in good, wliole-
some food, and a proper amount of exercise, are
the best preservatives of health.
" The Rose of Sharon." — The publisher of
this beautiful annual, Abel Tosipkiss, 38 Corn-
hill, has issued it for the year 1833, and in a style
of excellence commensurate with the taste of the
times, and the spirit of its very superior contents.
We believe this is the thirteenth consecutive year
that Mr. Tompkins has issued this exceedingly
interesting work, and which we consider highly
creditable to art and literature.
lO^ The printing and publi.shing establishment of Mr.
F. Gleason, in Ilo3ton, is, without exception, the neatest,
most adminibly arranged, and complete estabhshment in
the Union. The building occupied for the purpose is one
of the largest in the city. The sales room, packing room,
counting room and editorial room surpass, in sp;icious-
ness, comfort, and even elegance, anything we have ever
seen. — Buffalo Daily Courier.
Tremont House. — This long-established and
favorite hotel is now as popular as ever. The
new management have imparted to it fresh life
and spirit. Everything is new, clean and con-
venient.
Commercial. — A movement is in progress to
secure a direct trade from Europe, to several of
the principal southern'ports of the United States.
Tremont Temple. — This building will be
finished iu October. We hope so.
CROPS AT THE SOUTH, ETC.
A subscriber writes from Columbia, Ai'kansas,
about the 1st inst.: "We have here the same
warm weather, the same rich abundance of veg-
etation, the same wide-spreading sheet of water
before us {the Mississippi), and the same far-
reaching fields of cotton behind us. Our table
is as ever groaning under the rich abundance
which Kature pours out from her ample lap at
this season of the year. Of fruit, we have the
greatest abundance. Figs, peaches, pears, ap-
ples, plums and melonajSndeed, we hardly know
what to do with them, having no market for any-
thing of the kind here. The hogs generally fall
into possession of the larger share.
"Our crops this season are very fine — the
corn crop particularly so, I believe it is the
best anywhere in the south and southwest we
have had in ten years. The cotton, too, is very
promising ; but as it is always subject to injuries,
there is no certainty of the product until it is
gathered and baled up. We are having too
nmch rain just at present ; but should the rest of
the season be as favorable as the commencement,
and the caterpillar not come in to destroy it, tlie
present year will equal, and probably sm-pass
and exceed the immense crop of last year.
" This year, indeed, may be called the year of
great abundance, as far as our southern and south-
western regions are concerned. All our crops
of sugar, cotton, corn and vegetables generally,
raised for consumption — all the fruits that grow
among us, are abundant beyond measure ; and,
with the exception of here and there a case of
cholera, the country is exceedingly healthy.
With considerably over a hundred iu the family,
there is not a patient on the plantation to ad-
minister a dose of medicine to. A fact, I pre-
sume, that few of you good northern people
could think possible at this season of the year,
in these remote swamps of the Mississippi.
" We are almost alone here this summer ; at
least most of our neighbors, with whom we visit,
are off at the north on trips of pleasure, and the
few who remain, of course, have a very quiet
time of it, though I think when the account is
made up in the fall, we have the advantage in
real enjoyment. Yours truly, A. H. D."
CORRINNE ALMANZA:
— OR —
THE MAGICIAN OF SEVILLE.
A Romance of Spain, Italy and England.
BT FREDERICK HUNTER.
We shall next week commence a very excel-
lent story, thus entitled, by this well-known and
favorite writer, and can promise our readers a
good entertainment in its perusal. Those who
have read Frederick Hunter's stories iu the Pic-
torial, will now know what they may expect.
MEXICAiVS ON THE MARCH.
We present on page 132 a very fine picture,
large and effective, giving a correct and spirited
view of Mexicans as they appear on the march,
or rather at the time when the drummer beats
the reveille, to arouse them from their sleep at
the bivouac, or halting-place, for the night. The
late contest between our own country and the
Mexicans has familiarized a large portion of our
people with their manners and customs, and also
taught this nation, to whom robbery and a guer-
illa life seem to come as second nature, that they
must respect the citizens of this country or be
themselves annihilated.
FAl^m CAMPBELL:
— OR —
THE FEMALE PIRATE CAPTAIN.
ET LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
Owing to the constant demand for this exceed-
ingly popular story, we have just issued a new
edition, and can answer any and all orders
promptly for the same.
The Yankee Card-Writer. — We shall give
a faithful likeness of this original genius, who is
now at the Ocean House, Newport, in our next
week's paper.
Severe. — Over fifty instances of coi-porcal
punishment occurred in a single public school in
New York, daring last week.
Queer Vehicle. — A land sail-boat has been
constiTicted at Southport, which can run along
tlic beach at the rate of 1.5 miles the hour.
In this city, by Rev, Mr. Stow, Mr. Charles Bennett to
Miss Mary Ann Kelly.
By Rev, Mr. Streeter, Mr. Benjamin Franklin Toung to
Mips Charlotte Ann Smith.
By Rev. Mr. Suiithett, Rev. TVm, H. Brooks, of Newark,
N. J., to Miss Ellen Cordis Gray.
By Rev. Mr. Gray, Mr. Wm. T. Coleman, of SanT'ran-
ciaco, Cal., to Miss Caroline M. Page, of St. Louis.
By Rev, Mr. Oreenlciif, Capt. George F. Lindsay to Miss
Margaret Frascr.
At Medford, by Rev. Mr. Fuller, Mr. Duncan Davis to
Miss Agnes Ellis.
At Blllerica, by Rev. Mr. Pettes, Mr. James Faulkner to
Miss Frances A, tTilson.
At Georgeto^vn, by Rev. Mr. Prince, Mr. Charles E. Jew-
ett to Miss Nancy Ann Southard White, of Brenton, N.H.
At Haverhill, by Rev. Mr, Hosford, James E. Ames,
Esq., to Miss Mary Frances Marsh.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Dr. Dimmick, Mr. John Post
to Miss Lydia \Vorster.
At Charlestown, Mr. George C. Thompson to Mies Louisa
M. Lincoln.
At Taunton, by Rev. Mr. Emery, Mr. William H. Evana
to Miss Abby A. Burt.
At Worcester, by Hon. Henry Chapin, Mr. Moses Fam-
ham, 2d, to Miss Katherine Earle.
At Providence. R. I, by Rev Mr. Butler, Mr. Alfred
Hijigins, of South Welltleet, Ms., to Miss Mary R. Martin.
At Portland, Me., by Rev. Mr. Pratt, Mr. Edward A.
Sm^iU, of Boston, to Miss Mary C. Roberts.
At Charleston, 3. C, Lieut. John N. MafBt, 0. S. N.,
to Miss Caroline Laurens Reed.
In this city, Miss Mary Norcross, 20; Mr. John DalL
58 ; Mr. John Tuttle, 28 ; Mr. John W. Eradlee, 84 ; Mr.
John D. Waters, 44.
At East Boston, Mr. John T. Whealan, 21.
At South Boston, Mrs. Mary E. Kllburn, 52.
At Charlestown, Mr. John M. Webb, 27.
At West Cambridge, Miss Eliza Tufts, 61.
At Dorchester, Mr. Henry Smith, of Boston, G3.
At East Bridgewater, William Harris, Esq., 58.
At Lowell, Isaac Scripture, Esq., 50.
At Newburyport, Mr. Jacob Stickney, 85.
At New Bedford, Mr. Joseph R. Rumrill, 54.
At Salem, Capt. William Meservy, 72.
At Natick, Mr. George J. Carruth, 22.
At Nantucket, Misa Eliza, Pinkham, 52.
At Hingham, Mrs. Mary Otis FLske, 51.
At Wareham. Mrs. Deborah Sturtevant, 50.
At West Newbury, Deacon Moses Brown, 81.
At Kennebuukport. Me., Miss Olive E. Stone, 16.
At Orrington, Me., Mr. Stillman Kent, 56
At Keene, N. H., Mr. B. Cooke, 50.
At Concord, N. H., Mr. Josiah L. Knowles 66.
At Providence, R. I , Mrs Rachel Amcsbury 75.
At Bristol, Conn., Hon. George Mitchell, 78.'
At Naugatuck, Conn., Col. Levi Whiting, U S A 66
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Mrs. Angelina Hunt. '
At Sing Sing, N. Y., ilrs. Isabella W. Hiivden 52
At Buffalo, N. ¥., Henry P. Darrow, Esqi
At Philadelphia, Hon. Christopher Adams 45.
At Baltimore, Joseph Cushing, Esq 71. '
At New Orleans, Mr. Calvin Darling, 45.
— AND —
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOKLU,
SlrftttttiTg-'Uooitt: (!l0tn|(rtni0n*
A Record of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly Utoniry melange of notablo
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BE3T AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
■well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, curr*ent evonta iu all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogethei making o, paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pa^s
contain views of every populous city in thu known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or weatem hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and ac*:urate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and lemole.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, with niuuen:)us specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satiu-surf5ice paper, Ixoni a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactun-d exprtissly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical e:iecution an elegant specitneB
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and siity-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of eixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
Inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and tc eucourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that ia good and pure, and aToiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and eought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE VOLITME.
OB, S4 00 PER ANNUM.
INVAIUABLT IN ADVANCE.
Each six month? completes a volume, commencing on
the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[C?^ One copy of the Flag of odh Vkiqh, and one copy
of the PiCTOEiAL Dbawing-Room Comfasion, one year,
for S5 00.
^^^ The PicnoRiAL Dr.\wi^g-Room Compaxton may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots tluroughout the
country, and of newsmen, at tt-ii ctnis per single copy.
Published every Saturday, by
F. GLEASON, Bobton, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS-
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, PhUadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & Co., Ill Baltunore St., Baltimore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 10 West 3d Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. HOYS, 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. 4th and Chesnut, St. Louis.
Q;^ Sitbscriptio^is received at either of Ike aiiove places
U2
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for fllooflon'fl Pictorial.]
TIIE ANNIVERSARY OF OUR FREEDOM.
DT PKRSA. S. liKWlS.
Hear yo the cannon'fl boonilriR roar,
V.ru yut tlio morn biis ll^litntl up tho veil
Of Diglit? — hear itw ionjj, liollow ecIiocB on our
Slioni3, Jying uiong tlio strftncl of our o^vn lakoa ;
SItiopiiig in glorious boauty, In tlio frco,
Bright sunnliino of tho otcrnal hi-avon ? 'T Is musio
In our oiirH ; it walcua tho patriot's soul,
And sondfl tho wiu-m blood thrilling through
His viiiufl, with pride and joy. IIo joys that
Suoli ft glorious land ifl his birthright;
Such a land, whoro noblu blond lias gushed
Out friinly on tlio battle-flold, and groat and
Qoncrous soula huvo given tliolr couyeox'atcd
I/ivca to malco us frco 1 0 what a lovely land
Is ours ! 80 broadly sproad in all its bright
Array of glories ; beautiful and far onr blue
Lakos stretch away in glancing sunshine, and
Tho singing song of freedom riKcs up in joyous
Tumult from the surging waves, sending its
Anthem-music up to heavon. Green and changeful
In their beauty, the proud pnLiries roll away in
Billotvy tide before the ^nnds, and
Proudly toss the giant forest trees their mighty
Arms up to tho o'orarcliing sky, whoso azui'o
Curtjiius drape the uoivcrso ; and dash our mountain
Streams, impetuous with foam and thunder,
Through the woodland glens, tlieu roll in silent
Grandeur to their oceau-homo. And this is freedom's
Shrino ; she sits enthroned amidst the mountains
And the everlasting hills, in majesty and might. And
Freedom's anthem rises up on high, and shall go up.
Till all the voices of tho " banded nations " mingle mth
Strains, and earth shall echo from ita every
Shoro, the chiming anthem of the glad
And noble frco.
[Written for Qleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS m PALESTINE.
No. 1.
BT EEV. P. W. HOLLASri).
Beiroot, anciently Bei*ytus, tlie chief scjiport
of Jerusalem, Alejipo and Damascus, seat of the
American mission in Syria, scene of the legen-
dary adventures of St. George and the Dragon,
and later of the Catholic miracle of a wooden
Christ giving forth blood and water when pierced
by scoffing Jews, is another Smyrna. French
steamers touch at it every fortnight from Egypt,
and Austrian ones as often from Constantinople.
Then, there is an occasional English steamship,
besides sail vessels of every nation ; so that, in
spite of tho intense heat of summer, the danger
of severe earthquakes, and the general poverty
of Palestine, Beiroot is as flourishing a town as
one would wish to see. Dr. Robinson, gave it
fifteen thousand population ; there are twice that
number now, and a rapid increase. Kobinson
found few remains of antiquity, because he did
not explore the neighborhood.
A smart half day's trot brought me to a beau-
tiful Roman bridge — a massive road like the
Appian way ; the most picturesque old aqueduct
that I ever saw, with inscriptions and images
on the quarries wlience the building materials
came ; ruined temples were to be seen in the dis-
tance, and partly-buried stones of tho same
classic period, along the shore. But these an-
tiquities are nothing to one fresh, as I was, from
Egypt. They go back only to the Cxsars ; and,
besides their modernness, constant warfai-e, re-
peated earthquakes, and the very worst govern-
ment upon earth have done them the greatest
possible harm.
Tho American missionaries here are univer-
sally respected, and live very comfortably — in
summer, on the cool sides of Lebanon, in winter,
cheered by stoves, a luxury unknown even to
the hotels. The printing press, their chief de-
pendence, is exceedingly active, and has just
added a good sized geography to the school
books ali'cady sold extensively ; and no doubt
does God service by stepping out of the merely
religious line, and furnishing useful books for
the education of Arab children. Their Sunday
service in English is the only one in the place ;
their Arabic preaching is attended by an atten-
tive audience of about a himdrcd. Converts arc
few. Hardly anything can be done with the
Jews, because in the Holy Land they arc at-
tached to national peculiarities more than any-
where else, besides being so wretchedly poor
that they would expect to be supported by the
missionaries in case of conversion. The pros-
pect with the Mussulman is even poorer; he
looks down upon Christianity as a degraded
idolatry, and would probably murder a relative
who forHook the Koran and the mosque. Tlie
only hope is of the Greek, Roman and Armenian
Cliristians, whose views they expect to change,
partly by their school.4 — themselves a great bles-
sing to the land — and partly by circulating the
Scripliirca in tlic native tongue. But, wliile tho
moral and social habits of the people remain as
they arc, it is working against wind and tide.
Tho Catholic schools are more numerous, older,
better attended, and of a higher character.
Tho environs of Beiroot are very beautiful.
The Mediterranean seashore is always plcnsant;
and, towards tho country, narrow sand lanes
lead through gardens (jffdcred by prickly pear
plants of tho height of six feet, and impene-
trable to man or horse as the best hawtlioni-
hedgo, and filled with fruit trees, particularly tho
mulben-y for the silk-worm. Towering over this
profusion of precious trees is Lebanon, glittering
with snow all the winter, and in summer, reflect-
ing the sun nearly as well from its naked ridges
of bright limestone. The cultivated vine-ter-
races are hardly noticed from below, the famous
cedars aro one solitary clump miles and miles
away, while the hardy natives are hidden in rich
mountain clefts and verdant valleys.
The Beiroot Lazaretto, though severe enough,
is one of tho best in the cast. You have exten-
sive walks, are not necessarily cooped up with
Turks, may lake a sea-bath, and enjoy mountain
as well as ocean scenery. But then, the whole
thing is ridiculous as it is cruel. When every
hour is so precious, you are imprisoned nearly a
week, without book, newspaper, amusement,
or friend, in four naked, dirty stone walls —
obliged to pay for everything, even the "guar-
dian " that sleeps in your chamber ; for tiie
room, for every morsel of food, and for your
bed, if you have any. In the case of ladies, I
need not say that it is awful. No fatigue and no
exposure will compare with this miserable and
useless confinement — a trick of antiquated Italian
doctors, a severe tax, an utter waste of time, an
ingenious provocative of sickness !
Friends often ask anxiously regarding the
safety of a visit to Palestine, and sometimes
speak despairingly of the expense. Thousands
would no doubt visit the most interesting coun-
try upon the earth, were they set right upon
these points. Such travellers as give themselves
up to ingenious drogomen, and are content to
see with their eyes, and hear with their ears,
come back often with startling stories of peril.
The truth is, many of these reports of robbers
are made up on the spot to keep the traveller's
purse open, to oblige him to hire an escort, to
obtain employment for friends and relatives, etc.
A cloud of servants of every sort hangs around
Beiroot, waiting for the arrival of the steamer,
to pounce down upon a credulous stranger, and
fatten their laziness upon his fears. It is not
enough for him that one man, a moukra, is re-
sponsible for his baggage ; and another, an in-
terpreter, serves as guide, cook, mouth-piece and
valet. If he will but listen to their narratives of
hair-breadth escapes, a company will fasten like
leeches upon him — robbing him as far as they
dare, consuming his provisions, extorting pres-
ents, and inflaming his imagination with scenes
of blood. The actual fact is, no Italian high-
way is safer than the regular routes through
Syria, Turkey and Egypt. Rev. Mi*. Barnard,
of Damascus, has often passed "from Dan to
Beersheba," with no companion but his horse,
and no weapon other than his whip. From Je-
rusalem to the Dead Sea, " black mail " is ex-
acted by the sheik of Jericho ; who, for the sum
of five dollars apiece, serves as guide to a party,
becomes responsible for their well being, and
offers them the poorest kind of shelter in his
own Arab home. From Nazareth to Damascus,
through a very desolate country, not usually
passed over by caravans or travellers, the monks
persuaded us to hu-e one of their young men as
a guard, because om* servant was a coward, and
we were hardly armed at all. But the few peo-
ple whom we encountered were rather afraid of
us than we of them ; and the only Bedouins into
whose hands we fell, were delighted to see us,
and to bestow upon us a perfectly Abrahamic
reception. The truth is, that throughout the
east, our European dress is the best protection.
Turkish officers pay it peculiar respect — tho
common people dare not do it any injury — the
traveller's servant, even, is safer with him, and
more feared than alone.
Tlie great difficulty is not the expense any
more than tlie danger. The Syrian horse can
be hired for half a dollar a day, the Syrian drag-
oman for less than a dollar per day, tho con-
vents expect about a dollar lor the hospitality of
dinner, lo'lging and breakfast, though they do
not exact anything; and, when not Kupplied at
their table, food, etc. averaged about half a dol-
lar each day, With a party, of course, tho ex-
pense might bo greatly diminished — one drago-
man answering for a dozen as well as for a
single person ; but three dollars would cover the
daily necessities of a frugal traveller in Judea.
And tho steamers arc not moi-e expensive, in
proportion to the smaller amount of business,
than the Cunardcrs, and are commodious, safe,
well-oflicered, and evorj'thing but swift.
The only trouble is to find the right time for
Syria. The summer will not do because of the
heat, nor the winter because of the rains ; there
is only a little interval, say a part of October
and April, when one is neither attacked by the
fever of this intensely sultry land, nor drowned
by a continued deluge. In no other country is
the traveller so helplessly dependent on the
weather. He must therefore give up everything
which would entice him aside, in order to have
the right and healthful season in Syria; and
that would generally be just before the rains
commence in autumn.
[Written for Glcoson's Pictorial.]
liOVE.
BY KENNETH SINCLAIR,
'T is the Bun, o'er field and meadow shining,
That doth new life imp.art.
And fill with joy the heart,
Erat o'er earthly eonows much repining.
'T is a flower, in the epring-time hlooming,
Ere the canker-worm of grief
Hath touched its new-blown loaf,
Unto fell destruction cruelly dooming.
'T 13 a precious gem, whoso hrilliant light,
Though darltness may enshroud,
Or heavy shadows cloud,
Still ever through that darknesG shines most bright.
'T is a dream that ia dreamt in early youth, '
Of joy and happiness.
Ere life's harsh trials impresa
Upon the brow the marks of care and ruth.
But the sun must pet, and the flower die,
Shattered may be the gem,
Or darkly filed the dream,
"WMIo love sincere can every change defy.
AN ERECT POSITION.
A writer on health, very justly condemns the
habit of lounging, which a large number of per-
sons indulge, as injurious to health. He says :
" An erect bodil}^ attitude is of vastly more im-
portance to health, than was generally imagined.
Crooked bodily positions, maintained for any
length of time, are always injurious, whether in
the sitting, standing or lying posture, whether
sleeping or waking. To sit with the body lean-
ing forward on the stomach, or to one side, with
the heels elevated to a level with the head, is not
only in bad taste, but exceedingly detrimental to
health. It cramps the stomach, presses the vital
organs, interrupts the free motions of the chest,
and enfeebles the functions of the abdominal and
thoracic organs, and, in fact, unbalances the
whole muscular system. Many children become
slightly hump-backed, or severely round-shoul-
dered, by sleeping with the head raised on a
high pillow. When any person finds it easier to
sit or stand, or walk or sleep in a crooked posi-
tion than a straight one, such person may be
sure his muscular system is badly deranged, and
the more careful he is to preserve a straight or
upright position, and get back to nature again,
the better." — Boston Courier.
["Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GOOD-BY.
BY EDWARD J, HAKDnjOE.
O, sad good-by ! 0, cold good-by !
Tlie phantom, sorrow, hails thee;
My heart .so tearful wails thee,
And, in coffined silence, seeks on misery's breast to lie!
Alas ! alas 1 tbat only
Once my fioul, so dark and lonely.
Knew a spring which woke to fragrance the sweet flowers
of Ufe and love,
With transcendant rapture laden from God's mercy-seat
above,
0, sweet good-by ! 0, dear good-by !
My Bella's accent zones thee
"Witli n rapture, wliich enthrones thee
In my heart, like tho eucharist in a dying sinner's soul.
Joy I joy ! for memory's garland,
Like a glory from the far-land,
Circles sadness with a light for chiding sorrow henco
away,
"While remembrance cheers love's future with Itind hope's
perennial ray.
[Written for Glea^jon's Pictorial.]
ClANG TO TIIE ROCK, HOY!
BY MRB. BOPHRONIA ODRRIER.
Abaft, tho mighty wind,
Ilelow, the dungerouB reef;
A deeply darkling wky above,
And on, the bcotUng elilT,
" Death walkH the deck of tho gallant bark 1"
Wind, waves, and tempests sing;
But louder tliun all a voice is heard,
"Cling to tho rock, boy, cling!"
The fnKijtcd eeamen look,
And througli tlio darkening spray
A sailor hoy to a high, steep rock,
Is urging his toilsome way.
lie hears their anxious call ; ho seefi
That wide their ropen they fling;
But lie murmurs the words of his drowning sire,
" Cling to the rock, boy, cling I"
More wildly sweeps the blast.
Higher the mountain wave ;
And tho noble Hhip, with a hundred hearts.
Goes down to tlie ocean grave.
The boat is filled, but the oars still rest —
" Hastw ! haste'." their voices ring ;
His heart throbs fast, but he murmurs still,
" Cling to the rock, hoy, cling !"
Fast plies tho bending oar,
And fades the twilight beam.
And only he fees, from the far-off shore,
The beacon's sickly gleam ;
While over his pale and chilly form
Each wave its snow-wreaths lling;
And his ear ia stunned with the tempests' roar —
Will be cling to that rock, still cling?
The long, long highfc had passed,
And a boat flew o'er the sea.
For the morning sun looked down and smiled
From out the cloudless sky ;
It found but one of that vessel's crew,
A child, low murmuring,
In his peaceful sleep, on the sea-prt ells',
" Cling to the rock, boy, cling 1"
"When tossed on life's rough sea,
With chart and rudder gone ;
And through the storm and darkness, comes
The harpies' boding tone, —
We vdU list alone to the Father's words,
In soft voice, whispering,
_And through the long, dark, fearful night.
Cling to the Kock, still cling I
PLEASURES OF AK INDIAN VOYAGE.
I began by paying .£150 sterling for a cabin to
myself, and had not inhabited it two days before
I found it so infested with cockroaches, that I
was bound to evacuate it. If we had been all
Whittingtons, and each possessed half a dozen
cats, it would not have sufficed to deliver us
from the rude assaults of the innumerable host
of rats that invaded us. I had occasion to move
a trunk which stood in one corner of the cabin,
when, to my astonishment, I discovered a small
snake coiled up ; and, as if not sufBciently hide-
ous as a snake de facto, I fmther discovered that
the creature had two heads. I called out loudly
for a stick and assistance, intending to commit a
bloody deed upon the intruder; the cuddy ser-
vants, who had heard my vociferations, came
rushing on to the fray; but no sooner did they
see the nature of the foe, than they both jumped
upon the boxes, exclaiming, *' Ivill him, kill
him ! Don't let him come here !" Just at this
point the third mate came up, crying out, " Don't
hurt him, sir ! Pray don't hurt him !" and im-
mediately laid hold of what turned out to be a
pet of his. Although I had never seen one be-
fore, I had frequently heard of " the double-
headed sand-snake." This was one of the very
singular species, and, assuredly, as far as the
human eye-sight can be credited, it has a clear
and perfect head at both ends ; tho species, how-
ever, are entirely harmless, and the one in ques-
tion, had made its escape from a little box in
which the mate kept it since leaving Madras.
As for pets, they literally abound witli us ; there
is a pet leopard big enough to swallow a sheep.
— India ana Indians.
Do all in your power to teach your children
self-government, ]f a child is passionate, teach
hiai by patient and gentle means to curb his
temper. If he is greedy, cultivate liberality in
him. If he is selfish, promote generosity.
ORIGIN OF " TRUE BLUE."
Evei-ybody has heard and made use of the
phrase " true blue ;" but everybody does not
know that its first assumption was by the Cove-
nanters, in opposition to the scarlet badge of
Charles I,; and hence it was taken by tlie tioops
of Lesley and Montrose, in 1639, The adoption
of the color was one of those religious pedantries
in which the Covenanters affected a pharisaical
observance of the Scriptural letter, and the
usages of the Hebrews ; and thus, as they named
their children Habakkuk and Zcrubbabcl, and
their chapels Zion and Ebene-ier, they decorated
Iheir persons with blue ribbons, because the fol-
lowing sumptuary precept was given in the law
of Moses : " Speak unto the children of Israel,
and bid them that they make them fringes in tho
borders of their garments throughout their gen-
erations, and that they put upon the fringe of
the borders a ribband of blue." (Num. xv. 38.) —
English paper.
'Tie not the fairest form that holds
The mildest, pui-est soul within ;
'Tifl not tho richest plant that folda
The sweetest breath of fi'agninco in,
li. Dawe».
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
143
LOUIS NAPOLEON'S BLiJRRIAGE.
The European papers contain rumors of Louis
Napoleoa's intended espousal of the Princess
Wasa, of Baden, a lady of whom it is said that
she mingles in her blood that of the most cele-
brated of the kings of Sweden ; Charles the XII,
Gustavus "Vasa aud Gustavus Adolphus, as well
as that of the celebrated Beauharnais family, of
which Louis Napoleon is himself a scion. She
is the daughter of the Prince of Wasa, an officer
in the Austrian army, wdio was the son of Gus-
tavus Adolphus the Fourth, a king who was
compelled to abdicate, whenBernadotte assumed
the sway. The mother of the princess was a
daughter of the Duke of Baden, who maiTied a
Mademoiselle Beauharnais, niece to Josephine,
the Emperor Napoleon's first wife. Hence she
is related to Louis Napoleon, whose mother was
Hortense Beauharnais, daughter of the Empress
Josephine. The fortunes of the Beauharnais
family are as remarkable as that of the Napoleon
family. An English paper, whence we derive
the above facts, says :
" Of the two children of the Empress Jose-
phine, the daughter, Hortense, married Louis Bo-
naparte, King of Holland, and the history of her
descendants is now beginning — ^where it will end,
who can say "? Her son, Eugene, became King
of Italy, and married a daughter of the King of
Bavaria, by whom he left two sons and two
daughters. The eldest son married Donna Ma-
ria, the present Queen of Portugal, but unfortu-
nately died a month afterward. The other son,
the Prince of Leuchtenberg, married a daughter
of the Emperor Nicholas, of Kussia, who is de-
tei-mined to make him a king as soon as a king-
dom can be carved for him. Of the two daugh-
ters of Eugene BeauJiarnais, the eldest is the
Queen of Sweden, the other is the ex-Empress of
Brazil, widow of the once famous Don Pedro.
She, though no longer an empress, yet lives very
comfortably at Lisbon with her daughter, now
twenty-one years old, who will probably, some
day or other, likewise marry a king. So much
for some of the characters in the great di*ama to
be performed in Europe, of which the first act is
now in progress."
PROBLEM FOR THE SCIENTIFIC.
The Portsmouth Gazette states that there is
obseiwable at Eye Beach, near the Ocean House,
at extreme low water, the stumps of a forest
thickly studding the sand. They are the remains
of ti'ees of a large growth, but what kind, the
change wi'ought in them by time and the action
of the sea renders it impossible to determine — at
least upon a cursory examination. It does not
learn that they have ever been seen before the
present season, the severe storms of last spring
apparently having washed the sand from them
and left them distinctly exposed to view. There
appears to be no account of them from history or
tradition. How, asks the Gazette, is the phe-
nomenon to be explained 1 Was the bed of the
ocean in this quarter once verdure-covered earth,
which some mighty convulsion of nature sunk
beneath the waters, at a period to whicli the
"memory of man runneth not?" The subject
is certainly deserving the attention of both the
curious and the scientific.
THE T03IATO.
An extract in one of our exchanges praises the
tomato for an abundant of excellent qualities.
The testimony of physicians is quoted in proof
of its value in the place of calomel, its efiicacy in
dyspepsia, diarrhcea, bilious attacks, etc. It is
further said that citizens in ordinary (whether
that means ordinary citizens, in an " ordinary,"
or citizens in their ordinary condition of health,
or all three, is more than we know) should make
use of it, either raw, cooked, or in the form of a
catsup, with their daily food, as it is the most
healthy article in the " mateiia alwientaria."
Just at this season this piece of information is
gratifying.
Convents. — The number of convents in Eng-
land alone is already fifty-three, and the number
of nuns, at a low estimate, somewhere about 1 500.
Mexico. — ^Wm. H. Webb has contracted to
build a revenue cutter, of about six hundred tons,
for the Mexican government.
New Sugar House. — A new company for
refining sugar contemplate erecting at East Bos-
ton a large building for their works.
Rathek Equivocal. — One of our exchanges
says that the summer bonnets arc as light and
airy as the pretty heads they adorn.
MiLiTAitT. — We understand that a new mili-
tary company is forming at East Boston.
iDagstiie ©atljcrings.
Hon. Alfred Dwight Foster, of Worcester, died
very suddenly, lately, of gctfit in the stomach.
Ml-. S. E. iVoodbridge, of Perth Amboy, N. J.,
ofi'ers $1000 for picking a lock which he sells for
^8, and continues the offer for two years.
A fire in Elkhart, Indiana, has destroyed the
principal part of the business section of the toivn.
Loss $60,000 — mostly insm-ed.
The steamship Europa sailed from New York
for Liverpool, on the llth inst., with 57 passen-
gers, and $725,455 in specie.
A criminal method of giving ale its proper
character in regard to flavor, is said to be due to
stri/clmine — a hon-ible poison.
Under the i-ules at West Point, a failure to
pass an examination carries with it as a conse-
quence a dismissal.
The Sea Serpent, Capt. Howland, from New
York to San Erancisco, made the passage in 112
days, calms included.
There were over one hundred professors of re-
ligion on board the frigate Independence during
her late cruise.
Mrs. Ann Chase, the heroine of Tampico, ar-
rived at New Orleans on the 16th inst., from
Tampico, in the cutter Duane.
A Western orator, last Fourth July, thus com-
menced his oration : " Fdlow-citizens, — Seventeen
hundred and seventy-six years ago, General Wash-
ington, whom I wear in my button-hole, died !"
Mr. Joseph Marcey, aged eighteen years, was
married to Mi-s. Sarah Moore, aged jifiy years,
in Tennessee, recently. They are both from
Logan county, Kentucky.
The contributions at Portland, in aid of the
sufferers by the recent fire at Montreal, will ex-
ceed three thousand dollars. Twenty-five hundred
dollars have already been sent.
A despatch from tha foot of the Hoosac moun-
tain states that the great boring machine was at
work on the 9th inst., and had cut into the rock
three feet; at the rate of twenty inches the hour!
Two young men in Philadelphia, nwned Wil-
liam Gallagher and Anthony McCall, drank, for
a wager, more than a pint of liquor each, and
Gallagher died from the effects of it.
Under the forge of a blacksmith's shop, at
Hopkinton, about to be moved, foity-three coun-
terfeit Mexican dollars have been found. The
workmen thought they had found a "rich vein."
A Wisconsin jury, we notice, has lately given
a mulatto woman a verdict of $100 against a
steamboat captain, for turning her out of the com-
mon cabin on account of her color.
Alexander Bro^vn, of WhitinsviUe, Mass., and
James Chipman, child and nm"se, of Laurel, Del.,
are to be added to the long catalogue of those in-
jured or killed by the use of burning fluids.
A subscription is on foot in New York for the
pm-pose of enabling those who have lost friends
or property by the desti'uction of the Henry Clay,
to sue the proprietors for legal damages.
A brick-layer, named Hiram Johnson, fell
from the top of the Syracuse House, N. Y., re-
cently, and was instantly killed, having broken
his neck.
There is a letter addressed to "Modesty,"
lying in the Baltimore post office, and there being
no claimant for it in that city, the postmaster has
advertised it.
The Washington Intelligencer officially an-
nounces the resignation of Hon. Abbott Law-
rence, Minister to England, and the appointment
of Joseph R. Ingersoii to fill his place.
In the yacht race at Philadelphia, on the llth
inst., the Bianca, of New York, won the prize
of $1000, beating her antagonist, the George L,
Brown, one hour and three minutes.
The Board of Health, Rochester, N. Y., re-
port twelve cases of cholera and three deaths in
the twenty-four hours ending at four o'clock,
P. M., 10th inst.
Mr. Andrews, consul at St. John, N. B., has
returned to Washington, ■^'ith a report of facts in
regard to the fisheries. He anticipates difficulty
in effecting an adjustment.
Lately, a child of S. D. Bardwell, Esq., of
Montague, named Charles Summer, got part of
the husk of a pea-nut into bis windpipe, and
shortly aftei-wai*ds died.
A German paper says that Haynau, the Aus-
trian butcher, has been spending some time at
the baths of Hamburg. On Sunday, May 30, he
won in a gambling saloon 40,000 francs— nearly
$8000.
Mr. Charles Loomis, of West Granville, for-
merly of Westfield, was found dead in his bed on
Sunday morning, the 8th inst. His age was
about 70. — No cause is assigned for his sudden
death.
A real live Turk, born in Constantinople, is
sojourning in Cincinnati, and expresses himself
well pleased with that city. The one wife sys-
tem, however, he abhors, as unworthy of agi-eat
country, and so excellent a government.
A dread of the effects of chloroform, in conse-
quence of the fatality that has repeatedly follow-
ed its administration of late, may finally induce
the dentists to fall back on ether, which was never
known to do any hann.
A letter dated Singapore, June 1st, states that
the bark Nelson, at Melbourne, for London, was
boarded April 2d, during the absence of the mas-
ter on shore, by two boats' crews, who over-
powered the crew and plundered the vessel of
gold dust to the amount of £125,000.
Jorcign UltsccUang.
Madame Vestrls, the famous danseuse, is
seriously ill.
The English have twenty-one ships on the
coast of Africa.
The wheat crop of Germany is better than it
has been before in twenty years.
Louis Napoleon is having his busts placed in
the public markets of Paris, with imposing cere-
monies.
Belletti, Jenny Lind's former musical com-
panion, is said to.be immensely popular in Lon-
don.
It is stated that thirteen thousand cows are
kept in London, confined in cellars and sheds in
various parts of the town.
There had been very serious riots at Limerick,
Cork, Belfast, and elsewhere, connected with
election movements, religion (?) being mixed up
with politics.
General Cathcart is about to make a general
onslaught upon the strong-holds of the Caffres.
The English had captured fifty-one Caffre wo-
men, who were acting as spies.
A benevolent English lady has recently given
$24,000 to establish infant schools in one of the
most destitute districts of London. There's a
true woman !
We learn from Paris that notwithstanding the
police are continually on the aleit, still a multi-
tude of wi'itings are diffused in all quarters,
in which the government is most powerfully
attacked.
Turin papers give particulars respecting the
recent arrests in Milan and other cities. About
sixty persons were aiTested in the province of
Mantua, among them the Archpriest of Revera,
and six other clergymen.
There is a painful record of outrages and mur-
ders perpetrated by the Caffres. An army of
them, two thousand strong, are concealed in the
mountains, and are constantly making descents
upon the colonists, whom they rob, plunder and
murder with impunity. The settlers are selling
their possessions, and removing to Austi'alia.
A few days ago, a balloon fell near the Green-
wich turnpike, England, upon the Greenwich
road. A working painter caught hold of one of
the ropes to keep it down, and he was dragged
up by the rope, so that those in the car had to
pull him in or he must have fallen some sixty
or seventy feet to the ground.
The insurrection in the Morea is headed by
priests, whose followers amount to 2000. They
are exciting the Greeks against King Otho, whom
they denounce as a Boman Catholic, and they
threaten not to desist till he is baptized in the
Greek Church. It is said this crusade is stimu-
lated by Russia.
loker'a Bnliiiet.
SantrH of ©oli.
One cannot always be a hero, but one
may always be a man.
All thoughts that we do not share, in
time turn to sadness. — Lamartine.
Wholesome sentiment is rain, which
makes the fields of daily life fresh and odorous.
.... Lay by a good store of patience, but be
sure and put it where you can find it.
.... Solitude is necessary in the moments
when grief is strongest and thought most
troubled.
.... True joy is a serene aud sober emotion,
and they are miserably out who tako laughing
for rejoicing.
.... Books are leaves thrown, to sink or swim,
into the stream of time, by a being who soon
plunges in after them.
Truth — the open, bold, honest truth — is
always the wisest, always the safijstfor every one
in any and all circumstances.
.... Books about religion may be useful
enough, but they will not do instead of the sim-
ple truth of the Bible.
.... There are readers of books who get no
farther than the title-page, like the Indian fox,
who devours only the heads of insects.
.... The most cheerful children are always
the best, and necessity, if she is the mother of in-
vention, is also the grandmother of wickedness.
.... A young man's ambition is but vanity —
it has no definite aim — it plays with a thousand
toys. As with one passion, so with the rest.
.... Great calamities teach us many beautiful
lessons, and reveal to us much we should never
have seen from the common level of life.
Many authors regard vulue as the Mexi-
cans did gold, as being only fit to ornament
their temples, and too precious to be made as
currency.
.... Fools and madmen have their paradise,
and are as much pleased with their imaginary
honors, as they would be with the real. This
makes them averse to all methods of cure.
Kind words do not cost much. They
never blister the tongue or lips ; and we have
never heard of any mental troubles arising from
this quarter. Though they do not cost much,
yet they accomplish much.
He is good who does good to others. If
he suffers for the good he does, he is better still ;
and if he suffers from them to whom he did good,
he is an-ived to that height of goodness that no-
thing but an increase of his sufferings can add to
it ; if it proves his death, his virtue is at its summit.
V Why is John Bigger's boy larger than his fa-
ther ■? Because he is a little Bigger.
A cotemporary says, that John Bull, in the
late difiiculty down' East, has proved himself
very sel-Jish.
What is the difference between a schoolmaster
and an engine driver ? One trains the mind,
the other minds the train, sometimes !
There is a man in Boston who walks so slow
that he wears a pair of spurs to keep his shadow
from treading on his heels !
A young lady in the interior thinks of going to
California to get married, as she has been told that
in that countiy the men folks " rock the cradle."
Somebody has invented and patented a ma-
chine for setting up ten-pins. Couldn't some of
our wiseacres possibly contrive a machine to " set
up" folks in business 1
The reporter of one of the New York morning
papers says : " Nearly one hundred souls were lost
by the recent burning of the steamer Henry
Clay !" What a shocking idea !
A Yankee, according to the poet Saxe, is a
driving man. "He sees aqueducts in bubbling
springs, buildings in stones, and cash in every-
thing."
A young gentleman being pressed very hard
in company to sing, even after he had solemnly
assured them that he could not, observed, testily,
that they intended to make a butt of him. " No,
my good sir," said one, " we only want to get a
stave out of you."
In Newcastle, Me., recently, Mr. John Kinnear
attempted to drag Nathaniel AVhite from his
wagon, for the purpose of flogging him, but fell
under the wheels, had his shoulders bi-uised, his
ear cut off, and his head otherwise injured. No
blame is attached to the driver!
A gentleman, says Punch, who takes the
morning journals, and whose attention is apt to
be monopolized by them, remonstrated one day
with his wife for coming down to breakfast in
curl-papers ; when the lady replied ; " If you in-
dulge in your papers, I don't see why I shouldn't
enjoy mine."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes Ist and 2d of the Pictobtal DRAWisa
Boom Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edgea
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Cflobe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in, short, of an infinite Yaxiety
of interesting and inetructive subjects ; with an
ILLTrailNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
avast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard t-o reading matter and
illustrations.
Fer sale at the Publication Office, by our TVholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOK,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND KEriNED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to poHte literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expi:3ely for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, :^.nd on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into ita columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOR TKE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLB.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading iveekly paper in the United Slates, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
Bo condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can enggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STJBSCRIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year S2 00
3 subscribers, '* 5 00
4 « " 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag of odh. Union, and one copy of the
PiCTORiAt DEAWiNG-llooai COMPANION, one year, for £5*00.
in^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form cluba, on the above terms.
D::7=- All orders should be addressed, POST PAID, to th&
Publisher of the Flag of our Union.
*,* The Flag can he obtained at any of the newspaper
depots in the United States, and of neivspaper carriers, at
FOOB CENTS per sins'.c copy.
F. GLEASON,
PtTELISHEE AND PeOPIUETOR, BOBTON, MABS.
144
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
U. S. CUTTER TANEY.
Tlercwith we pivc a view by otir artist, Mr,
Wttde, roprcsentiiifj; tlio .sudduii loss of tliis ves-
sel in New York hiirhor on Tuesday afternoon,
Aufifust 3, as she was bound to the outer bay.
Froni the report of tlic eaptain it appears that
after having proceeded a mile below Governor's
Island, with a very li;^ht air, the vessel was
struck by a white Hquall, whieb seemed to fall
aliuiird aliMust \-nli(iilly, cuiisiiit; her to capsize
and (ill ill an instant. Si. liniiu-il were the cx-
tL-nt and duratiuTi of the M|nall that pilot boats
and other vessels in various directions within 150
■yards of the spot were becalmed ut the time, and
immediately afterwards scarcely more than a
tn-eath of air could be perceived. So sudden was
it, that not a ripple appeared to indicate its ap-
proach. These typhoons, or vacuums in the air,
are imfrc(iiicnt in these waters, but in the East
Indies and tropics they are very common — wit-
ness the loss of the President, the U. S. sloop-of-
war Hornet, etc. In the China seas they are
very common and violent. The commander,
two lieutenants, pilot, and 13 of the crew, were
saved. One of the lieutenants and one of the
crew were not on board. Two arm chests con-
taining 24 stand of arms, 24 pistols and one
dozen cutlasses were picked up afloat 150 yards
from the wreck. Five persons were drowned.
TIio body of one man was picked up two days
after, and two more are not expected to survive
the injuries they received. On Friday, the Boom
Derrick Company sent down one of their large
derricks, and raised the schooner to the surface
of the water. It was about ten o'clock when the
derrick first took hold, and in fifteen minutes the
Taney was suificlently afloat to start for the city,
where she arrived in charge of the derrick, at
about half-past twelve o'clock, P. M. The dead
weight raised was about seventy-five tons. The
boom derrick works finely, and is worthy of the
attention of those who are curious in such mat-
ters. The proprietors consider it fully equal to
the task of raising three hundred tons. They
bavf lifted two hundred tons, and the superin-
tendent thinks that at one time a weight of three
hundred tons was sustained by the boom. One
horse is all that is required to move the machine
after the derrick is in a proper position for lift-
ing. The Taney was phiccd in the basin at the
Atlantic dock, and six pumps were set at work
to clear her hold of water. At a late hour in the
afternoon, the water was lowered so that the
bodies of the two men who went down with the
schooner were taken out.
-r '".t
LOSS OP THE U. S. REVENUE CUTTEE TANEY, IN NEW YORK HARBOR.
ENCAMPMENT OF THE FIFTH REGIMENT OF ARTILLERY, ON BOSTON COMMON. [For description, sen pago 141.]
F. aLEASON,
; CORNER BROMFIELD
: AND TKEMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1852.
s2 per volume.
10 0t9. single.
Vol. III. No. 10.— Whole No. 62.
UJnVERSITY, CITY OF NEW YORIL
This magnificent building, represented below,
" is situated between Washington Place and Wav-
erly Place, New York, and fronts Washington
Square towards the west, forming a noble orna-
ment to the city. It is built of Westchester mar-
ble. The style is Gothic, and much resembles
the English collegiate style of architecture. The
building is 180 feet long, and 100 feet wide. In
front, this oblong is divided into five parts, a
central building, with wings flanked by towers,
rising on each of the four corners of the edifice.
Tliis central building, or chapel, is superior to
the rest in breadth, height and character, and is
somewhat similar to King's College, Cambridge,
England — a masterpiece of pointed architecture,
and a splendid model for ages to come ; it is 55
feet broad, and 85 feet deep, including the Octan-
gular turrets, one of which rises at each of the
four comers ; the two ends are gabled, and, as
well as the sides, are crowned with an embattled
parapet. The chapel receives its principal light
from a window in tlic west end. This window
is 24 feet wide, and 50 feet high. It has eight
lights and two embattled transonxs. Prom the
central building, or chapel, wings project right
and left, and are four stories high, flanked by
towers, supported by angular buttresses of two
stages, running above an embattled parapet, and
are at the top themselves embattled. The win-
dows in the wings have square heads, with two
lights, a plain transam, and the upper division
trefoiled. The principal entrance is under the
great western window, through a richly-moulded
and deeply-recessed portal, flanked by buttresses
of two stages, the upper stage set diagonally,
and rising above an embattled parapet. The
doors are of oak, richly panelled, and filled with
tracery of open work, closely studded with
bronze. The school has a president and eleven
professors ; it has a valuable library, called the
Historical Society, which is free to all people.
Connected with it is an extensive grammar
school, and a flourishing medical department.
The chapel is probably the most beautiful room
of the kind in America. The whole building is
open to visitors at all time*. A number of the
smaller rooms are devoted to offices. The mem-
bers of the council, for 1852, are John C. Green,
President; John T. Johnston, Vice-President;
Wm. B. Maclay, Secretary; Paul SpofFord,
Treasurer. The Faculty of Science and Letters
are Elias Loomis, A. M., and chairman of the
Faculty; E. A. Johnson, A. M., professor of
Latin and Literature ; C. S. Henry, X>. L)., pro-
fessor of Philosophy, History, the English Lan-
guage, and Literature ; John W. Draper, M. D.,
professor of Chemistry and Natural History;
John Crosby, A. M., assistant professor ; P. M.
W. Eedfield, A. M., assistant professor of Ma-
thematics ; Reuben P. Lowrie, A. M., assistant
professor of Languages ; S. F.B.Morse, LL. D.,
professor of the Literature of the Arts of Design ;
M. Giraud, professor of the French Language ;
F. J. Vingut, professor of the Spanish ; Felix
Forerti, professor of the Italian; G. J. Adler,
A. M., professor of the German ; M. Leviloux,
professor of the French, The view is taken from
Washington Square, or Parade Ground. The
effect of the building, as seen through the trees,
is really grand, reminding one of some of the
old castles in Europe. In short, the University
is one of those landmarks of the advancement of
art, science, and general civilization in the new
world, the multiplying of which is one of the
strongest evidences of our steadily increasing im-
provement, and the growtli and appreciation of
intelligence in America, honorable alike to all.
Let such aid to knowledge and art be multiplied,
until we rival the old countries of Europe.
'J*V'
t [.
.» * •'
V 1. *
'Y*'1
VIEW OF THE UNiraRSITY, IN THE CITY OF NEW YOR]^..
146
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
A ROMANTIC STORY OF INCIDENT AND ADVENTURE.
Entered according to Act ol' CongrcBs, in the year 1 852, by F. Gle ASON, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[WUITTEN EXPRE88LT FOE GLEABON's TICTOKIAL.]
SI
I
mi mmmmE m mmmM.
% (!5i*apl)ic ®alc of Spain, 3taln auti (Pmjlanb.
BY FREDERICKlil^
CHAPTER I.
THE UNEXTECTliD MEETING.
Odr present story opens in a sunny scene,
Tipon a charming sunny afternoon in autumn, in
the south of sunny Spain — the land of chiv-
ah-y, knight-errantry and wealth — and a land
of misery and poverty, as -well — if history be
credited !
A portly and well-fed Spaniard— Don Miguel
Ruberto — the owner and occupant of a fine lui-
ciendo, a few miles distant from the city of Sc-
■v-ille — was reclining upon a rich divan, after din-
ner, enjoying his siesta, or afternoon nap ; and
beside him there sat two slaves engaged, the one
in shading his master's face, and the other wield-
ing a massive fan over his heart.
Whether the generous dinner he liad lately
devoured oppressed him, or wliether his copious
draughts of Rhenish wine — of which he was over-
fond — disturbed his brain, would be difficult to
determine ; at any rate, he could not seem to
sleep. His attendants were zealously attentive
in the performance of their duties, at his couch-
side, but he tossed and turned, and finally sat
bolt upright.
"A cigarctta, Cope," he said, gruffly, address-
ing one of his servants — who disappeared, and
returned in an instant of time, with a few choice
cigars upon a silver salver.
He had scarcely lighted his delicate cigar,
which he smoked througli an amber mouth-piece,
when a cloud of dust was seen at the end of the
court-yard, in front, and a jaded liorse, appar-
ently worn down with fatigue and rough usage,
halted at tlic outer gate.
The beast was mounted by an ill-dressed stran-
ger, whose slouched hat and dust covered clothes
offered very slight warrant for welcome at this
lordly old dwelling. Don Miguel looked out a
moment at the intruder, and then tlu'owing him-
self back upon his divan, in the lazy attitude
which he most loved, he awaited further devel-
opments, with the simple query to Copo :
" Who is that?"
Now Copo, or his companion in service, the
sharper-witted Pinta, knew little and cared less
who came to see the Don Miguel ! And so they
looked — and both answered that they " didn't
know."
At the further extreme of the long piazza of
the main house, there were three rows of lattice-
work, or Spanish blinds, wliich shadowed three
windows of the great reception-room. When the
old Spaniard inquired "who is thaf?" tlio mid-
dle range of lattice turned, witli a quick move-
ment; and as the stranger alighted and came
up the walk, slowly, a pair of briUiant eyes might
have been seen through one of the interstices,
fixed intently and curiously upon the new comer.
He was a youngish man, apparently — but his
motions were heavy and seemingly in a measure
decrepit. He secured his horse at the gate, and
advancing to the very last stair on the terrace,
he removed his slouched hat, and wiped the per-
spiration from his forehead with his hand.
" Give you good day, scnor," he said, address-
ing himself at once to the dozing don.
" Well, what now 1" inquired Don Miguel,
without deigning to turn his head.
" I have come a long distance, senor, to speak
with you. The day is sultry, and I am now
fasting since yester-night."
" That is no business of mine," said the old
Spaniard.
*' Yes it is, senor.'*
" Who are you ?"
"A poor man, in distress — "
" We have them here every day in the month."
" You do not have Hie licre, often, senor — and
I pray you give me a draught of good wine, and
bid your fellows here see to my horse, yonder.
Shehasbornemc five-and-twenty Spanish leagues
since daybreak, without an ounce of barley."
"And what is that to me! Off with j'ou ! lest
I set the hound after you."
At this moment, for the first time, the stranger
heard a low snarl, and turning aside, he beheld
the teeth of a miserable blood-hound just beyond
him, lying under the shadow of a cluster of
evergreens.
" Ha, ha!" grinned Don Miguel, viciously,
*' I sec, yoQ will be civil, at any rate ; the dog's a
good beast, but doesn't fancy your costume ! Be
quiet. Carlo — quiet, sir."
" Let him show his teeth, scnor — an' he will.
Come ! Since you are so inclined, release him.
He is a vicious cub, like his master. You shall
send him at me, and I will show you how I will
make his acquaintance."
" Out on you, fellow — for a stupid fool !" re-
torted the Spaniard, tartly. " If I pleased to say
to him ' go there !' thy skin would be the worse
for having ventured within the gate."
" Will it please you, scnor, to let him come ?
I have said he is a cur, like to his master."
" What means the fellow V
" Wliat he says, senor."
" Out, then ! Out of my gates !"
" Not until my errand hither is accomplished."
" Speed thee, then, and do thy errand ; or, by
St. Peter, my dog shall drive thee hence !"
" Will it please you, senor, to order my hun-
gry horse some grain 1"
"No!"
" Indeed it will, anon," continued the stranger,
approaching him more closely. "I come from
Bernard de — "
"Bernard! ivhat — " exclaimed the Spaniard,
quickly springing up. " Tell me, stranger — but
I may doubt tliy words. The proo/" that thou so
comest."
" It is here," said the traveller, at onec ; and
he pointed to a heavy signet ring upon his left
hand.
" Come in — come in ! Copo, Pinta — see to
the horse."
" And mind you," said the stranger, " she
must have good care, and faithful grooming."
"See to it," added Ruberto, extending his
hand to the traveller, and leading him into the
mansion, witliout further liesitation.
The wayfarer very soon found himself com-
paratively at home. A choice repast of excellent
fruit and delicious wine was instantly placed be-
fore him, and an explanation quickly followed.
" You come from Bernard de Norde? What
can I do — that is, how can I serve my old friend?"
" Your old companion, I believe."
" Companion ? Ah, yes — yes — partner, you
mean."
" Well, partner in trade, if you like that term
better. Partner, or companion."
" You know, then — "
" Yes ; I know Bernard, and I know Pontini."
" Foutini! Who — who was lie?"
" It is a good while ago."
"Yes, yes — that is, I suppose — "
" I k7mv. It is a long while since you and he
tn welled together, eh?"
" Exactly. But how did he know, you know,
that I was here?"
"Ila, ha! Did you suppose that you could
live here in all this fine style, and never be known
again, save as Don Miguel Uuberto?"
" But I (im Ruberto."
" Yes — and you were Fontlni !"
" — 'sh! Not too loud. You don't know —
you may have heard — "
"Pshaw! After what I have said, we may
speak in confidence, I think."
" But—"
" There is no occasion for huts, senor. I am
here to ask an accommodation of you."
" Well — go on."
" Business with us has been indifferent, for the
past two years ; and since i/our rctiracy from the
profession, we have got to be poor. We have
an enterprise in view for the coming winter; liut
in the meantime we must live, you see — eh ?"
" Well."
" The chances in the mountains are not so
promising as they were five years ago, when you
were one of us. We are out of ready means,
and we — that is to say — Bernard has commis-
sioned me to communicate with you, and to ask
the loan of two thousand doubloons."
"Two what!" exclaimed the tight-fisted Span-
iard, springing fiercely up, "two thous — "
"Two thousand doubloons, I said," continued
the dusty beggar, witliout changing the expres-
sion of his face, or seeming for a moment to no-
tice the don's embarrassment.
" That is thirty thousand good Spanish dol-
lars," said Don Miguel, catching his breath once
more.
" I know it," responded the beggar.
" Was the man mad ?"
" I think not, senor."
" Then he was drunk, to be sure, to make such
a demand of me."
" I should say not drunk, either, senor ; for he
will drink only good wine, as you arc aware ; and
Heaven knows he has not of late had the means
to obtain his favorite beverage in any extrava-
gant quantities. But, senor," added the stran-
ger, as lie filled his goblet with another draught
of the choice liqueur before him, " senor, your
good health ! By the mass, it is seldom, of late,
that Bernard de Norde has put his lips to such
nectar as this !"
" One thousand doubloons !" exclaimed Don
Miguel, as if speaking to himself.
" Two thousand, scnor."
"Eh? what?"
" Tico thousand, by your leave."
"Ay! Two — over thirty thousand dollars!
This is a modest demand, to be sure."
" An accommodation only, senor. It will be
returned, no doubt — "
" Bah ! Bernard cannot be in earnest, in this
matter ; for he knows I do not possess so much."
" Ha, ha, ha !" screamed the beggar.
" Why do you laugh ?"
" Laugh, senor ? Your pardon for the nide-
ness. But Bernard de Norde has not forgotten
how much of gold, and plate, and jewels fell to
Fortini's final share of the accumulated spoils,
when, less than six years since, he dissolved part-
nersliip — I think this is the term — with that noted
individual. I warrant me the value of those
precious gains has not since lessened in Fontini's
hands."
" I cannot do it," insisted Don Miguel, firmly.
" Yes, you can."
" I cannot — will not !"
" I think you will, scnor."
" This is monstrous ! I will not willingly
consent thus to he robbed, and I will resist — "
" No you wont.'*
"And why?"
"Because it will not be for your interest so to
do. Besides you are too rich and too liberal to
refuse an old friend so trifling a favor."
" Trifling, did you say?"
" And, moreover," continued the traveller,
" your place is so public here — nice house, well
appointed, everything pleasant and desirable — •
you wouldn't care to be inconvenienced by too fre-
quent visits from certain friends I could name to
you, and who wouldn't scruple to come and help
themselves, perhaps, as you have done in times
past — to whatever might be accessible!"
This last hint was delivered by the speaker
with the coolest aang froid imaginable ; and the
intruder filled his goblet once more, as the don
stared at him in utter astonishment.
"Pontini — Ruberto, I mean," said the I)old
stranger, placing the goblet to his lips, again,
"your very good health !"
CILAPTER II.
CORRINNE ALHANZA — THE MAGICIAN.
Wk have spoken of a pair of sparkling eyes
which glistened through an opening in one of
the drawing-room lattices, when the stranger
reached the pia/.za of old Don Miguel's house.
They set beneath the poli.shed brow of the re
nowned beauty of Seville — Corrinne Almanza.
A liner form none knew, a more captivating
brunette, a sweeter girl than the lovely and
beloved Corrinno, found not her home in the
neighborhood of Seville, She was sharp-witted
too, and joyous as a young fawn — happy, con-
tented, companionable and friendly with all, and
to all around her; and when the young man
called at the hacienda, she was eighteen years
old, only — beautiful in feature and contour, and
just ripening into glorious womanhood.
But Corrinne wiis romantic as well as spriglitly,
and happy, and beautiful. She saw the joung
stranger through the drawn blinds, and though
his attire was none of the best, and his person
was covered with dust, she conceived a strong
desire to know more about him ; and, woman-
like, she listened to what he said before entering
the house.
And who was this strange but haughty travel-
ler ? and what was the secret he possessed, which
had so extraordinary an effect upon the uniform-
ly imperturbable and stoical old don ? These
were questions which at once suggested them-
selves to the nervous and excitable girl ; and she
resolved to obtain some satisfactory answers to
them. Nevertheless, Don Miguel had no dispo-
sition to unravel any of this apparent mystery.
On the contrary, he instantly made up his mind
that Corrinne should know nothing of the mat-
ter ; and he resolved also to get rid of his caller
at the very earliest possible moment.
" First of all, young man," said Don Miguel,
when they had become seated in the side-room
to which they had retired, " first of all, since you
come with authority from Bernard, as you say
you do — what is your name ?"
" That matters very little, senor, surely — since
my visit hither is purely upon business, and my
stay must of necessity be limited. I am the
agent of Bernard de Norde, and you have seen
my badge of authority — which you do not ques-
tion, of course."
" By what right can Beraardo thus attempt to
filch me — and of such an enormous sum ?"
" I did not ask him that. His orders were,
' GoandseekFontini,now self-styled Don Miguel
Ruberto, who dwells near Seville. He is a gen-
tleman of gi-eat wealth, and lives at his ease. I
have befriended him, in times past, and he knows
me; tell him I am in need of two thousand
doubloons, at once, and must have so much ; I
helped to make him the fortune he now enjoys,
and he knows it. He will not refuse you.' I
am only obeying his orders."
" And what if I do refuse ?"
" Then Bernard will come, in person, to seo
you."
" Let him come, then !"
" What, senor ! Do I understand — "
" That I will not submit to such a demand."
" It is but a loan."
" I shall decline. I cannot do it."
" Can, but ivHl not, senor."
" Construe it as you will — I am not disposed
to embark in any such enterprise."
" It is well, senor. I have finished my er-
rand, and will at once retire, if it please you, to
order my horse. There is a long ride to accom-
plish between me and Bernard; but I know the
nature of his necessities, just now, and he will
await my return with anxiety. Since you refuse
to respond to his request, too, I shall be the more
in haste."
And with these words the traveller rose to de-
part. His steed was immediately ordered ; but
when the animal reached the carriage-post, near
the terrace, no one but the party well acquainted
with the form and mettle of the beast, would
have suspected it to have been the same dust-
covered animal which but an hour previously
stood before the outer gate of the don's hacienda.
She was a magnificent Flemish mare, with a
dash of Normandy blood in her veins — all mus-
cle, compactness, strength and beauty. She had
been well cared for, and carefully groomed, dur-
ing the little time she had halted for her master's
pleasure, and when she was handed round to the
door ogain, it was with dirticulty the slave could
control her. She pranced, and danced, and
plunged in his hands, and would have disen-
gnged herself altogether, at last, but for a sharp
voice which she suddenly heard beyond her :
Ji
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAAVIXG HOOM COMPANION.
147
"Hi! VcYi~hi:"
The beautiful creature quickly pointed her
small thin ears toward the portal of the mansion,
and arching her full, round neck, she responded
to that well-known voice ia a self-satisfied wiu-
now, as if she would have said — could she have
spoken — ''all, master, I feared you were gouc!"
and, on the instant, the sagacious " Peri" was as
quiet as a lamb again.
"By St. Mark!" exclaimed Don Miguel,
glancing at the beautiful quadruped in readiness
to be mounted, " you are borne by a fine steed !
I give you good day, young man, and trust, if
you ever have occasion to call again, that yoii
will make your business not only more accepta-
ble to me, but more profitable to yourself."
" Adios, senor!" responded the young man,
cheerfully ; " we shall meet again, be sure of it."
With this salutation, the stranger spi-ang into
his saddle, and in a very few moments was out
of sight.
Notwithstanding the fact that the old don re-
turned again to his divan, and re-lighted his ci-
garetta, he was very evidently ill at ease, after
the interview. He knew Bernard de Norde, and
lie secretly feared him ; yet his cupidity prompt-
ed the course he had now chosen, and he deter-
mined to abide the result of his refusal to loan
so much money, though his means were ample
to accomplish an accommodation of five times
the sum, at a moment's notice, if he desired so
to do.
He tossed about uneasily till night fell, and
then retired to his own private apartment, in a
very ill humor; for he repented having been so
peremptory and inconsiderate, all things con-
sidered.
Corrinne had heard the stranger's voice, she
had seen his face, and she had become strangely
interested in him, at the first sight. She noted
his sudden departure, with reluctance, too ; but
his graceful carriage, his fine form and manly
beauty had left a deep impression upon her ro-
mantic heart.
This lovely girl was generous-minded, to a
fault, and she would have gone boldly to Don
Miguel, her protector, and asked the traveller's
name and business ; but, for the first time, she
observed that her old friend shunned her, at even-
ing, and she felt certain that he did not desire
her to become acquainted with either one or the
other. She kept her desire a secret, therefore,
for the time being, resolved, when the right op-
portunity presented, that she would satisfy her-
self in the premises.
On the third day subsequent to the visit we
have described, all Seville was alive with excite-
ment in reference to the arrival of a distinguished
necromancer — one Ferdinand Bletzer, as he
called himself — a celebrated magician and jug-
gler. His reputation had but recently preceded
him in this place, but he was highly lauded, and
his feats were said to be of the most singular and
astounding character. While his performances
were described as being highly entertaining and
decorous, it was also claimed that many of
his feats were of a philosophical and interesting
chemical character, such as had astonished the
world, wherever he had appeared, thus far. His
exhibitions, also, were conducted on a scale of
magnificence in appointments and appurtenance,
such as had never before been witnessed, and in
his vocation the signor (who professed to be an
Italian) was said to be altogether unrivalled.
Such a reputation, and such inducements for
display, naturally stirred up the sluggish spirits
of the inhabitants, for the time being, and all Se-
ville went to witness the magical wonder of the
age, who had dropped in upon them at a mo-
ment when there was nothing astir in the town
to compete with him. The nobility turned out
en vinsse to witness the sti-ange j>eiformanees
which had been so loudly talked of, and when
the curtain was drawn up, at the opera house
(which bad been engaged for the exhibitions), a
most aristocratic and select auditory greeted the
debut of the accomplished magician, in Seville.
When the talented juggler made his appear-
ance, in the midst of his sumptuous and costly
surroundings, a deafening burst of enthusiasm
and astonishment greeted and welcomed him.
He was superbly attired, in the showy costume
of an eastern fakir ; and his performances proved
of the most wonderful and startling cliaraeter.
He was master of the " black art," evidently —
and even in that superstitious, wizard-believing,
wonder-loving community, he outdid all his pre-
decessors, in every species and grade of chi-
canery, sleight-of hand, and legerdemain — to the
utter astonishment and gratification of all who
were fortunate enough to obtain an entrance to
the theatre.
As we have stated, the stage was one mass of
elegant and costly trappings, peculiarly adapted
to the use of the great performer, from the mag-
nificent polished silver "mirror of fate," upon
which the magician read the passing thoughts of
any of his audience who dared to submit to
the trial, down to the tiny golden thimble, less
than an inch in depth, out of which he showered
scores of bouquets, and bon-bons, and the rarest
of ripened fruit, among the ladies present.
Directly in front of the dress circle, a dais or
platform had been arranged, on a level with the
stage, extending around the entire circle of the
parquctte — to enable the performer to communi-
cate directly with the aristocratic portion of the
house, in order to extend the amusement and
deceit of his tricks. Among the foremost of the
audience, could be seen Don Miguel Ruberto,
and his charming ward, Corrinne Almanza, who
had come down to Seville to enjoy the treat
afforded by the an"ival of this extraordinary man,
in common with the rest of the wonder-loving
citizens of the town and vicinity.
The shrewd and watchful eye of Corrinne was
fixed at an early moment upon the magician, and
she watched him with an ardent and determined
gaze during the whole evening ; yet she saw
nothing, or very little of his performances ! She
saw the man, however ; and her thoughts were
busy, meantime — for they had met before I
The selfish old don knew nothing of this, how-
ever; nor did he suspect anything. The phi-
losophy of the diversion was Greek to him ; the
sleight-of-hand appeared to his vision to be the
acme of art ; the choicest efforts of the juggler
were astounding truths, in hisestecrh, and he had
no leisure except to be duped and amused at the
same time.
More than once, however, during the evening,
the magician had approached the little coterie
who surrounded the fair Corrinne, and drawn
from one or another of the ladies a glove, a ker-
chief, or a ring, with which to make experi-
ments ; and, as the performances continued, the
don's ward became deeper and deeper interested
in the countenance of the wonderful man who
amused them, albeit none knew why or where-
fore !
Trick after trick, feat after feat had been ac-
complished, to the satisfaction and surprise of
the vast audience, and as the evening closed, the
magician had possessed himself of a diamond
rin^ and glove from Comnne Almanza, to com-
plete an experiment. After which, he returned
the latter to its lovely owner, but not the ring!
Upon attempting to replace the glove upon her
hand, she discovered an impediment within the
palm, and, upon a more critical examination,
which no one else had observed, she found a di-
minutive envelope in the glove, which startled
her at first ; but which, on a moment's reflection,
she determined to say nothing about. It proba-
bly contained her ring — or, he would immedi-
ately i-eturn the jewel, at any rate — and so the
time passed by.
The magician was busy, the audience admired
and applauded, the evening waned, and every-
body forgot the circumstance of the ring, save
its fair owner.
No one was better pleased than Don Miguel,
though his eyesight was none of the best — having
suffered with a visual complaint for some two or
three years previously. However, he was de-
lighted, the audience generally were delighted,
and Corrinne, who had scarcely noted the details
of a single feat, distinctly, was quite as well
pleased with her visit as the rest.
The company saw the curtain fall with regret ;
and the superior performances of the signor drew
together crowds upon crowds, thereafter, for sev-
eral daj's.
Corrinne said nothing of the missing ring.
But, on reaching home, she lost no time in re-
tiring to her own boudoir, to learn further devel-
opments in reference to this romantic episode ;
satisfied of what no other person in attendance
at the opera house could be — to wit, that she had
met with Signor Bletzer before, under other cir-
cumstances !
CHAPTER UI.
THE CONTENTS OF THE GLOVE — A SURPRISE.
No greater truism was ever yet promulgated,
than the time-worn adage, that " love is blind."
Corrinne, the beautiful, was near the verge of
being in love ; but Corrinne, though not exactly
blind, was now very near-sighted, in this par-
ticular! Notwithstanding this, she had discov-
ered what the old don had never dreamed of,
though his opportunity had been fully equal — to
wit, tiiat the magician and the mysterious visitor
at Kubcrto's mansion (but a few days previou.sly),
were one and the same individual! So, of a
truth, Love is not always so blind as he is de-
scribed to be.
Upon reaching her boudoir, Corrinne dis-
pensed with the usual services of her femme de
chambre, for her curiosity had reached its culmi-
nating point, and she was in a state of feverish
excitement to know what were the contents of
the tiny glove. Securing herself from interrup-
tion, by dropping the latchet of her door, when
her attendant retired, she quickly drew from its
hiding-place the treasured missive!
Wliat was it ? Did the packet contain her
missing ring? Most certainly it ought. But,
alack, no jewel was there ! It was a very jewel
of an envelope, with gilded edge, and deep em-
bossings of darling cupids, doves and roses !
And then the seal — a crest ! AVhat could all this
mean? It was a very impertinent thing — this
smuggling a bil/et doiix into a lady's very glove,
uuasked and unexpected. But Corrinne only
smiled — though she asked herself all these ques-
tions— and with a trembling hand removed the
seal. The contents of the note she quickly mas-
tered. It was without date, and ran as follows :
" Fair Ladt : Believe me at your feet, to
crave pardon for this intrusion, which may he,
haply, fatal to my hopes ! I love you, Corrinne,
with all the fervor and purity of a devoted, un-
quenchable love — and I have dared to tell you
so. If the opportunity be afforded me, I will
explain to you, in person, all that I am, all that
I feel, all that I ever can aim to be, in life !
" The poor ruse I have resorted to, to engage
your attention for one moment (that Imighttlius
tell you, in one word, my ambition and my
hopes), may fail of its object. You may be
shocked, perhaps, at audacity like this, and turn
away with a sensation of contempt, for him who
should thus risk such monstrous presumption.
" But, lad}--, do not judge me harshly. We
have already met. Let me say again, with all
my heart's truest devotion, Z/ofe you! And be
this the excuse for my daring. I have prepared
these hasty lines — which I shall make sure will
reach you — and in exchange, I shall retain some
trifling memento which may fall into my hands,
from yours, to-night.
" Tell me if I shall sue in vain ! Yom- re-
appearance at the opera house shall be my an-
swer. We can meet there unknown to all save
our o\vn hearts ; and, peradventure, I shall find
in the qlove I may solicit from you again, your reply
to this ? Devotedly yours,
The Magician."
Now, under ordinary circumstances, this letter
would have cither found its way quickly to Don
Miguel, or the young lady would have crushed
and burned it, with a sneer for its author. But
as it was, there was altogether too much of ro-
mance in this affair to admit of either course — so
thought Corrinne ; and while her little heart
fluttered %vildly in her bosom, she pressed the
letter to her lips in very rapture ! Strange, in-
explicable, and uncxplainable is the course of
love !
AVhile this scene was passing in the private
apartment of fair Corrinne, old Don Miguel had
retired for the night. He was not a little super-
stitious, albeit his former life had been a scene —
for many a year — of danger, and toil, and crime,
which might well have operated, one would sup-
pose, towards eradicating anything like such a
sentiment in his composition. But Don Miguel
slept, after witnessing what had been to him the
most astounding series of performances he had
ever seen, and the wealthy Spaniard dreamed !
The conjurer appeared before him, as he slept,
and he fancied that he assumed a thousand
fiendish shapes — each different from the other,
and each more appalling and forbidding than the
first. In his slumbers he went back to "days
long past," and the magician still was present,
pursuing him, glaring upon him with great fiery
eyes, taunting him with reminiscences of the
times when a price was offered for his head !
Then the juggler would laugh at, and deride
him, and point him to a form which followed
close behind, and which, upon a further exami-
nation, proved to be Bernard de Norde, who
threatened him ! Don Miguel tossed heavily
upon his pillow, and would have screamed for
aid, but he had not the power. His tongue re-
fused to articulate ; the power of the magician
was upon him !
The rays of the clear, young moon illumined
his chamber, and after a fitful struggle the old
Spaniard turned upon liis side, and his tlioughts
quickly flew to his dwelling, near Seville, again.
He struggled to forget what he had just passed
through ; he essayed to blot from his brain the
effects of his dream, still unfinished ; and, with
a determined eftbrt he sprang from his pillow, to
encounter instead of the ideal, the rea/ity ! Ber-
nard de Norde stood beside his couch !
"Avaunt!" shouted Don Miguel, wildly — ^not
knowing certainly if he were actually asleep or
awake ; but the palm of the sinewy de Norde was
quickly placed upon the don's mouth, and silence
as quickly succeeded the Spaniard's exclamation.
" Hist, Fontini !" said the robber, softly.
" Ruberto," said the Spaniard.
"/know you only as 'Fontini,'" continued
the powerful mau at his bedside, " and I charge
you be silent if you value your life !"
" In the name of all the saints," muttered Don
Miguel, as he shivered with friglit and excite-
ment, " how came you liere, and when V
" It matters not. Suffice it that I am here,
and that I am needy."
" M^ell, old friend—"
"Stop, there!" said Bernard, coldly, "and
listen first to what I have to offer;" and with
these words, the robber poised a glistening pistol
in his right hand, and then released his hold
upon his old companion's person. "When we
parted company, now six years ago," continued
the robber, in a low but firm voice, "you will
not have forgotten who took from the wealth of
our little clan the lion's share of the spoils we
had accumulated."
" Nor who aided to — "
"Hist, Fontini ! and listen — for my visit hither
must be brief. I say f/ou cannot have forgotten
who awarded himself the lion's portion, and
retired from the profession at that time. You
will also remember the few brief words which
passed, on that occasion, between the 'leader'
and his 'lieutenant,' who had brought about the
resignation of the first personage, at that indi-
vidual's own request, and the promise, the vol-
untary promise, which was then proffered by the
retiring 'captain.' These two items must still
be fresh in your memory, I think, though six
long years have now passed, since their occur-
rence."
" I remember no prom — "
" You are a liar, Fontini ! And, but that I
had the means ready, at my call, even from that
very window yonder, through which I found my
way to your bedside, to compel you to disgorge,
I would be avenged oa you here, upon this spot,
for your denial of my words, and your base in-
gratitude !"
" You take me thus at disadvantage — "
"Disadvantage ! Bah ! do you think I would
act otherwise, under the circumstances of the
case ? Fortini, you know me. You know whether
Bernard de Norde is a liar, a coward, or au in-
grate. We have stood side by side, shoulder to
shoulder, in many a rough skirmish, in days long
passed by. And I saj' you know whether I am
usually successful in my undertakings."
" Go on — what must I do V
" When we thus parted, Fontini, the jewels,
plate and gold you bore away, were ample to
furnish means to support you munificentlj', for
life. You then said, ' De Norde, count on me,
ever! I will be your friend. You have been
true as steel ; and, but for you, I should not have
been able to tear myself from the men and this
course of life, of which I am heartily sick. Take
my place. It is a hazardous one, but you are
equal to it. Whenever you need my aid, do not
hesitate to command me — to the uttermost of
the means which you have so bravely helped
to place in my hands,' Such were your words,
Fontini. Am I right, or wrong 1" asked the
robber, at the same time springing back the
hammer of his pistol, the click of which did not
sound very musical, at midnight, in the ears of
the once reckless and bold— but just now excited
and alarmed Spaniard.
" A promise thus made," began Don Miguel.
" Am I right or wrong V insisted de Norde,
interrupting him, and pointing the weapon
straight into his eye !
" Hold !" said the don, " and hear me, one
moment."
[to be continued.]
Let no one suppose that by acting a good part
through life, he will escape s'lander. There will
be those even who hate them for the very quali-
ties that ought to procure esteem. There are
some folks in the world who are not willing that
others should be better than themsel\'es.
148
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
ELVIRA,
GEN. rr.onrs's UKSirniNCK.
Wc licrcwiih jd'cscTit our
readers with poinc spiritcfl
scenes ropi'eatmting (lifi'crent
places in Sontli AnuTiru.
The first is ii viL;\v of tlie
counti*y scat of (Jen. Florcs,
the cx-prcsident of the ropuh-
lie of Ecuador, and a very
fair specimen of ihe suninu-r
residences of the o|)iilent
Sonth Americans. General
IFlores was for many years
president of Kcuador, wliere
ho still has nniny fi-iends and
adherents, anil late advices
state that he hud act on foot
an expedition for the repub-
lic destined lo subvert the
present government, and to
rc-assort wliat he believes to
bo his cluims to the presi-
dency. He is represented as
a man of talent, energy and
probity, and his enterprise
promised to meet with suc-
cess, though more recent ac-
countg state that the expedi-
tion had failed. A squadron
consisting of seven men-of-
war, etc., set sail from Para
for Guayaquil, 25th April.
They arrived within five or
six miles of Guayaquil, and
landing in qmst of provis-
ions,were attacked by an Ecu-
dorian party, and retreated.
One of their vessels explod-
ed, by which one-tentli of
their party were destroyed.
On the night of July 4, Guay-
aquil was attacked ,and nearly
taken. But a scries of un-
toward circumstances thwart-
ed their plans, tho expedition
was abandoned, the vessels
were disarmed, and Flores himself was in the Umbier, having
fled from pursuit, The troops ofFloreshad gone over to Urbina,
the commander of the Ecudorian forces, whose troops amounted
to some 2100 men. A new candidate had been named for the
presidency, and still another revolution was anticipated.
The boy seen in the engraving below W!\s one of the pupils of
Mr. Cbarton, a young French artist, who travelled through South
America on a tour of adventure. While at Quito, making sketches
in the streets, vast crowds assembled to witness his operations.
The governor proposed to him to establish a school of the fine
arts; but there was no money in tlie treasury. He proposed to
give a public course of twenty-five les:ons — perspective, heads,
figures, painting, landscape, style, portraiture, for eighty dollars.
The governor accepted, but no money was forthcoming. A law-
yer offered him forty dollars, and he began — Jiis drawing-room
being the sta^c of the theatre. His most promising pupil was the
boy whose portrait he has preserved. At Guayaquil, he painted
the portrait of the lady whose likeness is presented herewith in
the annexed engraving. She was very pretty, but persisted in
making a thousand faces to enhance her beauty. At one moment
she smiled, at another, she screwed up her mouth to make it
appear smaller. The wretched artist \vas seated on a stool, and
rested Ids canvass on a chair instead of an easel, using the hus-
band's cane for amahl-stick. The children were constantly pull-
ing his hair; and as the lady painted herself differently at each
sitting, the poor aitist was sadly perplexed in the matter of color.
\Qim 4WIST OF QUITO,
ELVIRA, THE COUNTRY SEAT OF GENERAL FLORES.
Her caprice induced her to change her dress every day, but he
finally succeeded in persuading her that her travelling costume
was most becoming, and in that he has represented her.
Upon the next page we give a view of a church in Bodega, a
small town not far from Guayaquil, of not much interest to the
traveller. The church, however, is picturesque, and gives a
good idea of most of the churches in the smaller towns of South
America.
Guayaquil extends along the borders of a long river called the
Guayas. Its aspect is elegant. All the houses are adorned with
arcades and large covered balconies. The view on approaching
in the night-time, where the long lines of lighted windows are re-
flected tremulously in the water, is exceedingly picturesque. The
river is always gay with a multitude of market-boats, bringing
pine-apples, cocoa-nuts, and other fruit to the city, as represented
in the engravings, also given on the opposite page. Many per-
sons live on board these boats after the fashion of the Chinese at
Canton. In 1829 three-quarters of the city were destroyed by fire.
In 1842 the yellow fever swept off' nearly half the inhabitants.
The city is yet saddened by these disasters, and many families
are inconsolable. The male population suffered most — the num-
ber of the women and young girls greatly exceeds that of the men.
Its commerce is not very flourishing. Cocoa is a principal ex-
port. Straw hats of great value are made here. Some cost as
high as forty and fifty dollars. When they have lost their fresh-
ness they are given to servants. The man in easy eircumstauees
has four to five hats in a
year. A party at Guay-
I,, aquil is a somewhat sin-
gular affair. The ladies
are ranged around the
hall, seated on chairs or
sofas, in full dress, and
radiant with affability.
The door is always left
open on account of the
lieat. A gentleman on
entering, looks around
him without bowing, pla-
ces his straw^ hat on a
chair, and then, advanc-
ing very deliberately,
shakes hands with every
individuiil in the room.
After which, he is at lib-
erty to find a place be-
tween two ladies, and
converse about the rain,
the beat, and the mosqui-
toes, never failing tojiics
of conversation . The
principal piece of furni-
ture in every house is the
hammock, and the prin-
cipal article of food the
banana. There is no
theatre, concert room,
public promenade, or mu-
seum, and life at Guaya-
quil would be very dull,
were it not for the socia-
bility of the people, and
the beauty and elegant
manners of the ladies.
As we have given on
this and the following
page several repiescnta-
tions of scenes in Guaya-
quil, perhaps we can do
no better, in closing our
account, than to ofi'er to
our readers the following
description of the city of
Guiiy!i(|Hil, drawn mainly
fioiri i\Ir( 'ulloch's Geo-
grapbifal (Ja/.etteer. Tho
city is built principally on
the north bank of the riv-
er, and is divided into the
old and new town, the for-
nter being occupied by llie
jjuorcr classcH. It contains a
population rising 20,000. —
The city is tolerably well laid
out ; and as its houses are of
wood, and it has frequently
suffered fiom fires, as before
noticed, much of it is com-
paratively modern, and has
a good appearance. Its pri-
vate residences arc mostly
tiled and furnished with ar-
cades. It contains several
good edifices, including tlie
'ustom-house, three con-
vents, a college, hospital,
etc. ; but fVom being situateil
on a dead level, and inter-
sected by many erects, the
drainage is extremely bad,
and the streets arc so swampy
as to be sometimes impa.ssa-
ble. Many of the inhabitants
live on tiie river, on Mza»,
on floating rafts, from fifty lo
eighty feet long. The river
opposite the city is about two
miles wide, and has on it'*
south bank adrydock, where
several ships of a superior
construction have been built.
The city is unhealthy, and,
like its whole province, in-
fested with vermin ; it is ill
supplied with water, which
has to be brought from a con-
siderable distance on ba/za.s,
which, indeed, are used for
the conveyance of all kinds
of goods. It deserves to be
mentioned that, notwithstand-
ing the severe injury the city
has frequently received from
fires, it has not a single fire-
engine ! The port of Guaya-
quil is one of the best on the
Pacific, ships of large size coming up close to the town. It is de-
fended by three forts, one being on the opposite side of the river.
Ships bound to Guayaquil usually call at Puna for pilots.
VEGETATION IN CALIFORNIA.
The world has heard something, through the newspapers and
otherwise, of the wondeiful productiveness of the soil of Califor-
nia, and has heard some stories, which, though perfectly true,
and thought little or nothing of here, have proved severe tests of
the crednlity of people in other countries. We have seen many
of the monsters of California vegetation, but we have at the pres-
ent time in our office some specimens that eclipse anything we
have seen or heard of. These curioj^ities are two bunches of clo-
ver of natural growth, taken from the farm of Judge Suydam, on
the American river, one mile from the city. The largest bunch
measures six feet in height, six feet six inches in circumference,
and weighs nine pounds. It consists of a cluster of seventeen
main stems, some of them measuring an inch and a half in cir-
cumference, and many smaller stems, all from one root. The
root, around the largest part, measures nine and a half inches.
The smaller bunch, consisting of about the same number of stems,
measures five feet nine inches in height, and weighs eight and a
half pounds. These very remarkable and singular specimens of
clover are of the long-leafed, sweet-scented species. As we write,
our office is redolent of the delightful aroma emitted from them. —
Saaameiito Union.
L\S^-
TRAVELLING COSTUME OF A LADY OF GUAYAQUII.
GLEASOIS'S PICTOEIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
149
LOKDON STAGE.
Webster, of the Haymnr-
ket Theatre, has produced
an "adaptation" from the
French, called " A Novel
Kxpedient," ■v\'ith marked
success. The story is suf-
ficiently extravagant. Mr.
and Mrs. Moore are dis-
covered, three months af-
ter marriage, staying at
Richmond. Of course they
are as dotingly fond of
each other as all newly
wedded couples are ; but
there is one di-awback to
the lady's happiness, in the
person'of a Mr. Damon, a
very old and intimate friend
of her husband's, who is
staying with them. She is
so jealous of this gentle-
man that she at length begs
her husband to tell him to
go; but meeting with a
positive refusal from Mr.
Moore, who has the high-
est regard for his friend,
she determines on consult-
ing an old aunt, who is
resident in the country,
and who has long been
voted in her own circle as
the strongest-minded wo-
man, and most perfect hus-
band-conqueror in the land.
The aunt in her letter ad-
vises her niece to pursue
an expedient laid down by
Lcsage, where a lady, to
rid herself of the presence
of a man she dislikes,
makes the most violent
love to him. Mrs. Moore
follows this course, and
Mr. Damon, who is the
soul of honor, is about
to leave the house in the
greatest distress, when he accidentally picks up the letter de-
tailing the plot. Stung to the quick at having been made the
dupe of such treachery, he determines to counteract it; and, ac-
cordinglv, on his next interview with Mrs. Moore, lie avows to
her that Iier confession of regard for him was the most wished-for
event of liis life. He presses his suit with great ardor, and finally
flings liimself at her feet, just as the husband enters. Mr. Moore
is furious, demands satisfaction, and produces pistols ; then Da-
mion explains the whole affair. Mr. Moore is satisfied and de-
lighted, Mrs Moore is penitent and grateful, and
Mr. Damon receives the thanks of both, and an
indefinite, invitatiou, — N. Y. Minor. ^
CHURCH OF BODEGA.
A SINGULAR CASE.
A poor woman of the port of Leith married a sailor, to whom
she Wiis very fondly attached. They had one or two children,
and were in by no means good circumstances. The man went to
sea in pursuit of his usual avocations, and at the end of two or
three months intelligence was received in Leith of the loss of the
vessel with all on board. Left in penury, with no means of sup-
porting her children but her own hard labor, the poor woman,
who was very attractive in appearance, was persuaded to marry a
A MILE A MINUTE.
Philosophers tell us that tlie motion of the earth
is equal to seventeen miles in a second ; so that if
you take off your hat to a friend in Broadway, you
go seventeen miles bare-headed, without catching
cold ! Curious, isn't it 1 Some how or other, this
odd thought came into our mind, while riding bare-
headed on the locomotive with Engineer JSoUes,
between Binghamplon and Oswego. Good gra-
cious! how we did "z-i-pV Seven miles, at one
time, in less than seven minutes ; and as the hack-
man told one of the Tuggs at Ramsgate, "sur-
rounfling objects rendered inwisible by the hcx-
treme welocity." We know what it is, now, to be
killed on a railroad, to all necessary " intents and
purposes;" for look you, when we were going, as
on the very wings of the wind, some twenty Irish-
men, working on the track, a mile or so ahead, seeing us coming
like lightning, scrambled down the bank, leaving a big stick of
■wood lying directly across the rail! We beheld it with gradually-
distending eyes, knowing full well that if it were not removed, our
" lime had come !" The backward thoughts of a life-time were
crowded into that moment ! But a finger was providentially
pointed to the timber ; a hand was stretched out toward it ; and as
we thundered by, our preserver stood alone by the track, holding
tlic stick of wood by his side. — Knickerbocker.
TRADERS IN WATER, ORANGES, PINE-APPLES, ETC.
man considerably older than herself, but in very tolerable circum-
stances. By him she had one child ; and in the summer of the
year 1786, she was sitting on die broad, open way, called Leith-
■walk, with a baby on her lap. Suddenly, she beheld her first
husband walk up the street directly towards her The man re-
cognized her instantly, approached, and spoke to her. But she
neither answered nor moved. She was struck with catalepsy. In
this state she was removed to the Royal Infirmary, and her case,
from the singular circumstances attending it, excited great interest
in the medical profession
in Edinburgh,which at that
lime numbered among its
professors the celebrated
CuUen, and no less cele-
brated Gregory. The tale
was related to me by one
of their pupils, who was
present, and who assured
me that everything was
done that science could
suggest, till tAl the ordina-
ry means were exhausted.
The poor woman remained
without speech or motion.
In whatever position the
body was placed, tlicre it
remained ; and the rigidity
of the muscles was such,
that when the arm was ex-
tended, twenty minutes
elapsed before it fell to her
side by its own weight.
Death was inevitable, un-
less some means could be
devised of rousing the mind
to some active operation?
on the body. From vari-
ous indications, it was
judged that the poor wo-
man was perfectly sensible ;
and at a consultation of all
the first physicians of the
city, the first husband was
sent for, and asked if he
was willing to co-operate,
in order to give his poor
wife a chance for life. He
replied, with deep feeling,
that he was willing to lay
down his own life, if it
would restore her ; that he
was perfectly satisfied with
her conduct ; knew that
she had acted in ignorance
of his existence ; and ex-
plained, that having float-
ed to the coast of Africa
upon a piece of the wreck, he had been unable for some years to
return to his native land, or communicate with any one therein.
In these circumstances, it was determined to act immediately.
The professors grouped themselves round the poor woman, and
the first husband was brought suddenly to the foot of the bed, to-
wards which her eyes were turned, carrying the child by the sec-
ond husband in his arms. A moment of silence and suspenoC
succeeded; but then, she who had lain for .so many days like a
living corpse, rose up, and stretched out her hands towards the
poor sailor. Her lips moved, and with a great
effort she exclaimed, " O, John — you know that
^ it was nae my fault." The efibrt was too much
for her exhausted frame ; she fell back again im-
mediately, and in five minutes was a corpse indeed.
— Uarpers' Magazine.
3IACAROSI AND VER3IICELLI.
Italv, you know abounds in macaroni and ver-
miccUi. The making and eating of these articles
enter into the occupations and appetites of every
city, town, and village. It is used in many forms
of which we have no knowledge. It enters into
all their soups and pastry, and into many of their
meat dishes. And though I started with many
prejudices, I must say that these dishes are inva-
riably good. Naples boasts of making the finest
macaroni in Iialy. I visited a small town at the
foot of Vesuvius yesterday, where thousands of
husliels of wheat were being made into macaroni.
The wheat is first subjected to a kiln-drying pro-
cess, being spread on tiled roofs which are heated gently from
fires within and from the sun without. It is afterward ground
coarsely, mixed with water and kneaded into paste, which is sub-
jected to action by pounders somewhat resembling those used in
driving piles. The paste is then forced through machinery, which
gives it its form and name, some coming out macaroni and some
vei-micelli, each taking, however, many varieties of form, some
like paper, some like ribbons, some in balls, and others like beans
and peas, and even as small as mustard seed. — Tliurhw Weed.
FLOATING UOUSES, CiVNOES AND PINE-APPLE MERCHANTS AT GUAYAQUIL.
150
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DUAWING P.OOM COMPANION.
[Written for Qlcimon'fl Pictorial.]
THE SOUL'S COINVOV.
BT WILLIAM T. HILBBE.
Nocturnal flplondor rolgnlng,
Tlie queen of night, on high
Pvodo with li«r fltiirry retinue,
Along tho clouiUcKB f-ky ;
Upon hor couch, with piillid inlon,
A gontle alucpor lay,
"With roHpirntioHB brief and soft,
Breathing hor.lif« i\way.
Loro'i) imprint lay upon her brow,
Submiflsion in h«r eye ;
llcr countenance illumed with hopo
Of bleescdneHa on high ;
Oft she cxprcHflcd a winh to Ichto
This sin-beclouded ppherc,
And rise to raptures of a climo
Flit hence from earth's frontier.
Soon from eelestial courts above,
A delegation came,
And whispered ticccnta sweet and mild,
In the great Father's name ;
Then on their flattering pinions bore
Her soul from earth away,
To mingle with tho loved and lost,
In pure fruition's ray.
[Written for Gloason's Pictorial.]
THE RESCUE.
A SKETCH.
BY DR. J. H. liOBJNSON.
Among tlic mrniy partizan officers wlio clislin-
puishcd tlicmsolvos during the campaigns of
Taiicton, Kawrlon, Cornwallis and otiiers in
North and South Carolina, few were more effi-
cient than Capt. John McClurc. He was in
many brilliant engagements, and enjoyed the
confidence and friendship of Gen. Sumpter. He
commanded a company of mounted riflemen,
and was continually in the field.
The patriots were encamped on the north side
of the Catawba River, on the confines of Lan-
caster district, while the enemy occupied Rocky
Mount and Camden. The position of the whigs
was a good one, but they labored under the dis-
advantages of a great scarcity of ammunition,
and small parties were despatched in different
directions to procure powder and lead.
Among those sent upon this service was
James McClurc, the captain's brother. Accom-
panied by his brother-in-law, James proceeded
directly home. His mother met him upon the
threshold, and in a tremulous voice expressed
tho hope that they had not left their post without
sufiicient cause.
" No, mother," replied the young man, proud-
ly ; ** far be it from me to seek ease and safety
when the country needs every arm in its defence."
" Spoken like one of my sons," said Mrs.
McCIure, embracing him.
" We need powder and lead," added James.
" We must remain inactive without ammunition."
"That 13 true," returned Mrs. McClure,
thoughtfully. "John's riflemen cannot fight
without powder and balls, and I am glad it is in
my power to assist them."
" How can you assist them V asked James.
"I "will show you," was the quiet rejoinder.
Mrs. McClure left the room and in a few min-
utes returned with her arms full of pewter dishes
and spoons. " You can melt these and mould
them into bullets," she said, and with a ham-
mer commenced breaking the things in pieces.
" They are useful and I need them, but our
country needs them more ; my only regret is
that I have not a great quantity of the same
kind, to be devoted to the same noble purpose,"
added tiie heroic mother,
" You must not forget that you have three
brave boys in the field," said her son-in-law.
" I thank Heaven for it ; and if I had six, ca-
llable of bearing arms, they should all go to the
camp of Gen. Sumpter," answered Mrs. Mc-
Clure, earnestly.
James and his companion instantly drew off'
their coats, and, assisted by Mrs. McClure, be-
gan to mould the pewter dishes into bullets to
be employed against the British regulars and
the lories,
" It is rumored," resumed the lady, " that the
notorious Captain Huck has been sent out from
Rocky Mount by our enemies, and that his way
through tlie country has been marked by blood
and ruin. He shows no mercy to the whigs,
and even defenceless women are insulted, robbed,
and left without a change of raiment, or a
mouthful of food for their little ones."
" Captain John has heard of his cruelties, and
is resolved to punish him," returned James.
*' Ho earnestly desires to meet him with his
mounted riflemen, and cnrcs lillle for disparity
of numbers."
"God will help the riijht V cjaciiliLtcd the
motlicr.
" Perhajis these very bullets we are moulding
will help thin the ranks of Captain Huck,"
added the other,
" Hark !" exclaimed Mrs. McClurc. "I
tlumght I heard sounds in the lane."
" I heard nothing," said James. " Where is
MaryT"
IJeforc his mother could reply, a young wo-
man rushed into the room with pale face and
disordered dress. Her terror and anxiety seemed
greatly increased when she saw her brother and
her sister's husband.
"For heaven's sake, what is the matter 1"
cried Mrs. McClure.
"Mount your horses and fly!" exclaimed the
young woman, when she recovered herself suffi-
ciently to articulate. " Captain Huck and tiis
murderers are dashing up the lane at full speed."
"We are lost!" said James. "Escape is
impossible."
" Secrete yourselves !" cried Mrs. McClure.
" Too late !" rejoined James. " They are al-
ready at the door."
It was indeed too late to think of escape; the
door was pushed open. Captain Huck rushed in,
sword in hand, and Mary fell fainting to the
floor.
James sprang to raise her, but Huck struck
bim a heavy blow with the flat side of his sword,
Avbich prostrated him. His companion seized a
stick of wood and attempted to defend himself,
but was instantly overpowered by Huck's men,
and both he and James secured, after some bru-
tal treatment.
" These fellows were finely employed," said
the captain. " See, they were casting bullets to
kill the king's men with ! What shall be done
with them ? What fate do such villains merit V
" Hang them !" shouted more than a score of
voices.
" These balls are sufficient evidence against
them; they shall die at sunrise," replied Huck.
Mary, who had now recovered her conscious-
ness, flung herself upon her knees before the
captain. She clasped her hands, and her eyes
were streaming with tears ; her distress, added
to her beauty, was sufficient to have moved a
heart less hard.
The monster spurned her from him with an
oath, declaring that " hanging was too good for
such rebels." And he even descended to the
meanness of robbing her of her finger rings and
ear rings — a procedure of which more than one
tory captain was guilty during the contest for
liberty in the south.
"Cease to ask mercy of such a monster!"
cried the heroic Mrs. McClure. " I would freely
give my life for my sons, but I cannot degrade
myself so much as to ask mercy of one who is
deaf to the most moving calls of pity, and dis-
graces humanity by the most unnatural crimes."
" Where are your other sons ?" cried the cap-
tain, fiercely.
" Seek them in Gen. Sumpter's camp," replied
the mother, proudly.
"Fitting dam for such a litter of whelps!"
exclaimed Huck, striking his hand savagely up-
on his sword-hilt. " But there will soon be two
the less."
"Harm them at your peril !" said Mrs. Mc-
Clure. " Remember that Captnin John is in the
field with his mounted riflemen."
" You threaten, do you ! Were it not for the
disgrace of the thing, I would hang you," re-
turned Huck.
"I believe you have spoken the truth; no
wickedness is too great for you. But you shall
pay dearly for the outrage, if you barm a hair of
their heads. In some moment of fancied secur-
ity, God will call you to judgment."
" I have said they shall hang at sunrise, and
they shall."
Huck and his party now proceeded to rob the
house of everything of value. The family Bible
was lying upon the table ; the captain seized it
and threw it into the fire. Mrs. McClure had
the presence of mind to rescue it from the flames,
when he, forgetting his own manhood and her
sex, struck her with the fiat side of his sword.
" Everlasting shame upon you !" cried James,
whose brave heart swelled with indignation at
beliolding this outrage.
Huck turned furiously upon the prisoner, but
suddenly ehecking himself, said :
" No, you shall liaiuj!"
He completed hi.s exploits by setting fire to
the house, and then left with his prisoners. For-
tunately the fire was extinguished by the ener-
getic efforts of Mrs. McClure. When she bad
effected this, she had time to reflect upon tho
terrible situation of her son, and son-in-law.
They would undoubtedly be hanged in tho
morning unless some means of rescue could ho
devised. But how was anything to be attempted
in their favor? Captain Huck's party was
strong and the time was short. Mrs. McClure
and her daughter were in great distress and
perplexity of mind ; but a course of action was
soon decided upon. Mary resolved to go to
Gen. Sumpter's camp, inform her brother, Cap-
tain John, of the outrage which had been com-
mitted, and the imminent danger which menaced
James and his companion.
This was a service requiring both physical
strength and energy of character, for the distance
was considerable, and she was likely to be de-
tained by the tories, and questioned rigidly in
regard to her purpose. Notwithstanding all tho
difficulties to be encountered, she set out and
had tho good fortune to reach Sumpter's camp
late in the evening, without accident. She stood
before her brother, and in brief but glowing lan-
guage described what had transpired at home.
" To the saddle, men !" shouted Captain Mc-
Clure. "There is not a moment to lose. Life
and death are depending upon your movements.
Let us hasten to punish a villain and a mur-
derer."
Before the captain had ceased speaking sev-
enty-five as brave fellows as ever looked through
tho " sights " of a rifle were in the saddle. With
three loud cheers for the heroic Mary, the gallant
troops put spurs to their horses, and moved rap-
idly to the rescue of their comrades.
Meantime Captain Huck after leaving Mrs.
McClure's house had stopped at the dwelling of
one Mr, Adair ; and the latter being absent, Mrs.
Adair was robbed of all her valuables, including
her jewelry, besides being treated in a very rude
and insulting manner. Several other families
suffered the same indignities successively, and
the whole company encamped at Mr. William-
son's, in that immediate neighborhood.
Captain McClure and his mounted riflemen
reached Mr. Adair's, where they learned the dis-
position of the enemy. The sun was just rising
when they reached the spot. McClure, ever the
first to encounter danger, ventured so near that
he saw his brother, and was seen by him in turn,
and recognized.
" Who goes there V cried the sentinel,
" One of your tory friends," replied the cap-
tain, carelessly. At that instant, the drums of
the royalists began to beat for morning parade,
which was also the signal for the execution of
the prisoners. McClure fired his rifle and rushed
forward, followed by his men. At the first dis-
charge many of the tories fell dead, and a gen-
eral panic seized the survivors.
It was in vain that Huck sprang into the sad-
dle and attempted to rally them ; his voice was
not heeded, and in a moment he fell from his
horse wounded, and soon Col. Ferguson, his
friend, shared the same fate.
The rout was now complete. Many of the
enemy were slain on the spot, and for the dis-
tance of thirty miles the survivors were hotly
pursued, and could be tracked by the dead and
dying that lay by the roadside. The victory was
decisive, and discouraged the royalists not a
little.
Captain Huck was a prisoner, and those very
ladies whom he had treated with so much bar-
barity dressed his uounds, and thus fulfilled the
Scriptures by returning good for evil. He had
commanded JL-s. Adair to bring her two sons to
him a few hours before, and she now informed
him that they had come with Captain McClure.
" And my other two are here, also," added
Mrs. McClure.
" It is too late," cried the captain, with a
wicked oath, and immediately fainted from the
pain of his wounds. When he recovered his
senses, James McClure and his companion were
standing near him.
"It is past sunrise, and we are not hanged
yet," said James.
"Things have changed," replied Huck, with a
groan. " You will outlive me after all," and he
shuddered as his glance fell upon the lifeless
bodies of many of his band.
His words were prophetic ; James McClure
outlived him. He perished as his crimes de-
seiwed, and passed to judgment with all his
errors upon his head.
[Written for Oleimon's Pictorial.]
I AM NOT IX)ST.
DT DK FLBTOUBR HUNTOK.
Nay, mother, credit not the tale,
That I am lont to virtuc'K power;
Although ten thousand HnurcN asnail
My wiintlcring feet in every hour;
Although my brightewt hopf;B are crossed,
I am not lost ! I am not lost !
Dear father, will yoa list to those,
Whofio fllnnderous tongues would fain destroy
My name, my fortune, my repose,
And all that 'h dear unto thy boy ?
0, father! say, can you behevo
I 'vo lost what I cannot retrieve?
Dear sifltcrs, can It be that you
Will think my heart eo coldly grown?
And can you, sisters, once so true,
Your only brother now disown I
0, will you cast me off for aye,
And think me lost, dear sisters, say?
I am not lost I though sorrow's night
Ilau cast a shade around my heart ;
Wliich one fond smile, one ray of light,
Would cause forever to depart;
Though frail my bark, and tempest tost,
I am not lost ! I am not lost I
HOUSE ARCHITECTURE.
I say that, if men lived like men indeed, their
houses would be temples which we should hardly
dare to injure, and in which it would make us
holy to be permitted to live; and there must bo
a strange dissolution of natural affection, a
strange unthankfulness for all that homes have
given and parents taught, a strange conscions-
ness that we have been unfaithful to our fathers'
honor, or that our own lives are not such as would
make our dwellings sacred to our children, when
each mfln would iain build to himself, and build
for the little revolution of his own life only. And
I look upon these pitiful concretions of lime and
clay which spring up in mildewed forwardness
out of the kneaded fields about our capital — upon
those thin, tottering, foundationless shells of
splintered wood and imitated stone, upon those
gloomy rows of formalized minuteness, alike
without difference and without fellowship, as
similar, not merely with the careless disgust of
an offijnded eye, not merely with sorrow for a
desecrated landscape, but with a painful forebod-
ing that the roots of national greatness must be
deeply cankered when they are thus loosely
struck in their native ground ; that those com-
fortless and unhonored dwellings are the signs
of a great and spreading spirit of popular discon-
tent ; that they mark the time when every man's
aim is to be in some more elevated sphere than
his natural one, and every man's past life is his
habitual scorn ; when men build in the hope of
leaving the places they have built, and live in
the hope of forgetting the years that they have
lived ; when the comfort, the peace, the relig-
ion of home have ceased to be felt ; and the
crowded tenements of a struggling and restless
population differ only from the tents of the Arab
or the gipsy by their less healthy openness to tho
air of heaven, and less happy choice of their spot
of earth ; by their sacrifice of liberty, without the
gain of rest, and of stability without the luxury
of change. — Sei'en Lamps of Architecture.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial,]
TIIE SUilOIER TIME.
BY C. JttlSON.
The summer time is nearly o'er,
With all its scenes of joy ;
And soon the autumn winds will come,
To wither and destroy
Each flownret that has smiled so bright
Upon the green hillside j
Whose fragrance now is home away,
Across the surging tide.
The forest leaves, all crimson tinged,
Will wither and decay ;
And every charm the forest claims,
The winds will waft away.
Our sports upon the grassy lawn
Will be enjoyed no more,
When frost-gems sparkle on the lea,
And summer time is o'er.
VARIETY.
What inextricable confusion must the world
forever have been in, but for the variety which
we find to obtain in the faces, the voices and the
hand- writings of men! No security of person,
no certainty of possession, no justice between
man and man, no distinction between good .ind
bad friends and foes, father and child, but-hand
and wife, male and female. All would havo
been exposed to malice, fraud, forgery and lust.
But now every man's face can distinguish him
in the light — his voice in the dark — and his hand-
writing can speak for him, though absent, and
be his witness to all generations. Did this hap-
pen by chance, or is it not a manifest as well as
an admirable indication, of a Divine supeiiutcn-
denco ? — Sandusky Clarion.
< ■*■* ► ■
Who never felt the impatieut throb,
The longing of a heart that pants
And reaches after diatiint good J — Cowjnr.
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
151
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
LIKES TO A STRE.UILET.
ON A RECENT VISIT.
E. CCRTISS HCSE, U. S. N.
This is the stream I -ve come to view,
For weary years have fled
Since last, when life was fresh and new,
By hope's white fingers led,
I wandered by thy water? fair,
And dreamed of lands afar ;
And wondered such a thing as care
Should ever pleasure mar.
I was but young— I 've learned, since then,
A rugged path we treail ;
Poor travellers in life's darksome glen,
To join the earlier dead I
All changed am I, since that bright morn
I left these scenes behind ;
And sought, where daring deeds were boi'n.
An honored name to find.
But thou, loTed stream, dost sweetly glide.
In music, on thy way ;
And silvery laugh at human pride,
And mocking at decay 1
Change vainly seeks to mark th}' brow
With sorrow's cankering thorn ;
For young and beautiful art thou,
As on creation's morn !
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
COA'CLUSIVE EVIDENCE.
BT THE OLD DN.
At a very early hour of a fine autumnal day,
a very pretty young lady, expensively attired in
a walking dress of a fashion that passed for the
latest Parisian, was daintily picking her way
over one of the crossings of Broadway, anxious
to preserve the iraraaculateness of her gaiter
boots, and perhaps to display an ankle that
might have served as a model to Canova, Just
as she reached the opposite sidewalk, her foot
slipped on the curb-stone, moist with Croton,
and she would have fallen had she not been
caught by a young man, smartly attired, who
happened to be passing at the time. A mutual
recognition instantly took place.
" Why, Sir. Bliffin, is that you?" exclaimed
the young lady.
" Nothing shorter, Jenny," answered the
smart young man. ** What a coincidence ! I
was just thinking of 3'ou when you tumbled into
my arms."
"Perhaps you think I slipped on purpose, Mr.
Impudence," retorted the young la.dy.
"Nothing of the kind," said the smart young
man. " But what brings you from Albany ?
Have you left your place as I have minC?"
" 0, DO, indeed," said the girl ; " Miss Jeffer-
son is as kind to me as ever, and so is her good
old daddy. Indeed she has promised me a
thousand dollars on the day of her marriage
with young i'opkins."
"A thousand dollars !" exclaimed Mr. Bliffin.
" O, Jenny, how I adore you ! When will you
be mine V*
"Just as soon as ever my young missis be-
comes Mrs. Popkins."
" But that's all settled, isn't it V
" I am afiaid not," said Miss Jenny, shaking
her head. " You know tlic old gentleman's re-
gard for truth, and you know what a habit Pop-
kins has of fibbing. To be sure, he only tells
white lies, but he's a terrible romancer."
" Well, what of tliat ?"
" Simply this : Old Jefferson, who abliors any-
thing like falsehood, is determined to put him to
a terrible proof. He swears that if, in the course
of to-day, he catches Popkins in a single fib, he
shall never have his daughter."
"And of course your thousand dollars is all
moonshine !" said Mr. BUffiu. " We must warn
the young gentleman."
"Impossible, and useless, if possible," said
the pretty cbambcrmaid. " He is now with Miss
Emma and her father at the American House.
Now I am going to keep an eye on him all day,
and you must help me. There's a little ante-
room commanding a view of their parlor, of
which I have the key. You must be there, and
see and hear everything that is going on, and be
prepared to act as your quick wit shall prompt."
"Bravo!" said Mr. Bliffin. "A thousand
dollai-s and a pretty girl are worth an effort.
Show me to the hiding-place, Jenny, and Pll
second your endeavors."
The pretty chambermaid performed her prom-
ise and then joined her mistress.
" Father-in law that is to be," Sir. Popkins
was saying as she entered, " I wish I'd known
of your coming before — you should have had an
ajjartment in my house."
Jenny trembled, for she knew very well that
Popkins did not own a dollar's worth of real
estate.
" Your house !" exclaimed Old Jefferson. " I
wasn't aware you owned a house."
" The most charming little box of a place on
the Third Avenue," said Popkins, readily giving
way to his inveterate propensity.
" What did you pay for it?" asked the old man.
" Guess."
" Ten thousand dollars."
" I won it at a raffle. Twenty dollars a share
— what do you think of that?"
" Ex-tra-or-di-na-xy," said the old gentleman,
slowly, and eyeing the young man very keenly.
"I'll go directly and see it. I shan't believe
your good luck till my eyes have evidence of it.
Come, Emma, you shall go with us."
" Stop — stop !" said Popkins, nervously. "I
forgot to mention one thing; I sold my house
this very moi'uing."
" The deuce you did !" cried the old gentle-
man. " What did you get for it V
" Ten thousand dollars," replied Popkins, un-
blushingly.
"My dear boy, I congratulate you,'* said the
old man. " And there's something selfish in my
joy, too ; for I am unexpectedly called on to pay
a note of a thousand dollars this morning, and I
have no available funds by me."
"There, again — confound my luck!" cried
Popkins. "I forgot to mention that I was in
debt to the fellow who bought my place. So
you see his claim sweeps up the whole eight
thousand."
"Eight thousand! — very well,' you said you
got ten thousand for your house ; you can cer-
tainly accommodate me with half the balance."
"Johnson hasn't paid up yet, sir," said Pop-
kins, involving himself deeper and deeper in the
meshes of falseliood. Emma was very much
vexed, and Jenny gave up the case as hopeless.
" What's to be done ?" said Mr. Jefferson.
" Nothing that I can see but to wait for the
arrival of Mr. Thompson with the money," said
Popkins.
"Thompson! Why, you said just now his
name was Johnson !" said the old gentleman,
testily.
" That was his given name," answered Pop-
kins, hastily. " Johnson Thompson in full."
And he hastened to change the subject.
But the old gentleman's suspicions were now
fully awakened ; and tliough Popkins rattled
away with his usual volubility, his intended
father-in-law was quite cool and monosyllabic in
his answers.
After a lapse of some time, a waiter presented
himself, and announced Mr. Johnson Thompson.
Popkins was as much astonished as if he had
" called up spirits from the vasty deep," and he
could scarcely reply : " show him up " in an au-
dible manner, when in walked Mr. Bliffin, so
disguised in a red wig and spectacles, that even
Miss Jenny scarcely recognized him.
"I beg pardon for intruding, Mr. Popkins,"
said he, " but I only called to say the deed was
all right, and I have paid the two thousand into
your lawyer's hands. Pray call round and see
me when we get settled in the new house. My
wife is very anxious for the honor of your ac-
quaintance."
" Give my respects to Mrs. Thompson," said
Popkins, recovering his sangfroid, "and tell her
I shan't fail to call willi — with Mrs. Popkins,"
he added, smiling on Emma, " after the happy
event."
The imaginary Thompson took leave with a
profusion of bows.
" My dear boy," said Old Jefi^erson, shaking
hands with Popkins, " pardon me. I suspected
— I feared that you had not broken yourself of
your accursed propensity to tell fibs ; and I re-
solved if I caught you in a single violation of
truth, you should never many m}' daughter.
My pecuniary trouble was all humbug. Y"ou
have stood the test nobly. Take her and be
happy."
His narrow escape taught Mr. Popkins the
importance of a virtue he had never practised;
the example of his wife completed his cure. Mr.
Bliffin was duly rewarded for his opportune
" conclusive evidence," and made happy in the
possession of the pretty waiting-maid ; and if a
cloud comes over the felicity of Mr. Popkins, it
is only when his father-in-law urges him to make
that promised call on Mrs. Johnson Thompson.
[Translated from the French for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE PRINCESS AYESHA :
— OR THE —
THOUSAND AND SECOND NIGHT.
BY ANNE T. W^ILBUR.
I HAD ordered myself to be denied to every-
body ; having taken in the morning the foimal
resolution to do nothing, I would not be dis-
turbed in my occupation. Sure of not being in-
terrupted by any intruder, I had taken all my
measures to taste at my ease my favorite luxury.
A great fire sparkled in my chimney; the
closed curtains admitted a soft and subdued
light ; half a dozen cushions strewed the earpet,
and, carelessly extended before the hearth at
roasting distance, I was dancing at the end of
my foot a morocco slipper of an oriental yellow
hue and grotesque form. My cat was couched
on my wrist, like that of the prophet Mahomet ;
and I would not have exchanged my position for
all the gold in the world.
My eyes, already swimming in that delicious
sorauolenee which follows the voluntary suspen-
sion of thought, roved, without seeing them very
distinctly, over the fine paintings which were the
wealth and the pride of my poet dwelling; the
unfathomable waves of that sea of annihilation in
which so many oriental dreamers have lost their
reason, already weakened by the liatschich and
opium.
The most profound silence reigned in the
room; I had stopped the clock that I might not
hear the tick of the pendulum, that beat of the
pulse of eternity, for I cannot endure, when I
am idle, the stupid and feverish activity of this
disk of yellow copper which wags from corner
to corner of its cage, and marches constantly
without advancing a step.
Suddenly the ring of a bell, lively, energetic,
insupportably silvery, fell on my tranquillity as
a melted bullet falls hissing into a sleeping lake ;
without thinking of my eat — rolled up like a ball
on my arm, — I sprang to my feet, as if touched
by a spring ; sending to all the demons the stupid
porter who had allowed any one to enter in de-
fiance of my orders. Scarcely recovered from
the shock to my nerves, I seated myself, arrang-
ed my cushions under my arm, and firmly
awaited the event.
The door of the saloon opened, and I saw ap-
pear the woolly head of Adolfo Francesco Pergi-
alla, a kind of Abyssinian brigand, in whose ser-
vice I then \vas under pretence of having a negro
domestic. His white eyes sparkled, his flat nose
dilated prodigiously, and his thick lips, blossom-
ing in a broad smile, which he sought to render
malicious, revealed teeth like a Newfoundland
dog. His black skin was bursting with a desire
to speak, and he made all possible contortions to
attract my attention.
" Well, Francesco, what is the matter ? When
you have rolled your enamel eyes, like the bronze
negro inside of the clock, for the space of a whole
hour, shall I be any better informed? I have
had enough of pantomime; try to tell me, in
some idiom or other, what is the matter, and who
is the person who has roused me from ray
repose."
I must inform the reader that Adolfo Francesco
Pergialla Abdallah Ben Mohammefl, an Abys-
sinian by birth, formerly a Mahometan, for this
quarter of an hour a Christian, knows all lan-
guages, and speaks none intelligibly; he com-
mences in French, continues in Italian, and ends
in Turkish or Arabic, especially in conversations
embarrassing to him, when the subjects are bot-
tles of Bordeaux wine, liquors or delicacies which
have prematurely disappeared. Fortunately I
have polyglot friends ; we first drove hira from
Europe; after having exhausted the Italian,
Spanish and German, he took refuge at Constan-
tinople in the Turkish, into which Alfred pur-
sued him ; seeing himself tracked, he sprang
over to Algiers, where Eugene trod on his heels,
and followed him through all the dialects of high
and low Arabic ; arrived there, he took refuge
in the Bembara, Galla, and other dialects of the
interior of Africa, where the most learned lin-
guist could alone follow him. This time he re-
solutely replied in imperfect hut very compre-
hensible Spanish :
" Una jniif/er nun/ honka con su kcrmana qttien
qidere hablar a listed."
" Let them enter if they are young and pretty,
otherwise tell them I am busy."
The fellow, who knew his business, disappear-
ed for a few seconds, and quickly returned, fol-
lowed by two women wrapped in great white
burnous, the hoods of which were drawn closely
down.
I presented to these ladies, as gallantly as pos-
sible, two arm-chairs; but perceiving the piles of
cushions, they signified their thanks, and laying
aside their burnous, seated themselves after the
oriental fashion.
The one directly opposite me, in a ray of sun-
light which penetrated through the interstices of
the curtains, might have been twenty years of
age ; the other, much less pretty, appeared a lit-
tle older. We will occupy ourselves only with
the prettiest one.
She was richly dressed in the Turkish costume :
a vest of green velvet, loaded with ornaments,
enveloped her slender waist ; her chemisette of
striped gauze, fastened at the throat by two dia-
mond buttons, was open sufficiently to display a
white and well-formed neck; a handkerchief of
white satin, covered with spangles, served as a
girdle. Large and full trowsers descended to
her knees ; Albanese pantalettes of embroidered
velvet covered her delicate limbs; her pretty
bare feet were enclosed in little slippers of figured
morocco, stitched with gold thread ; an orange
caftan, wrought with silver flowers, a scarlet fez,
adorned with a long silken tassel, completed this
costume, which was a singular enough one for
visiting in Paris.
As to her face, it had the regular beauty of
the Turkish race : her complexion was white as
polished marble ; and like two black flowers,
mysteriously peeped out those fine oriental eyes,
so clear and deep beneath their long eyelashes,
tinged with henna. She looked at me with an
uneasy air, and seemed embaiTassed ; by way of
recovering her composure, she took one of her
feet in one of her hands, and with the other,
played with the braids of her hair, which was
laden with sequins pierced through the middle,
ribbons and bouquets of pearls.
The other, clad in similar costume, but less
richly, remained equally silent and motionless.
Pecalling the appearance of the baj'aderes at
Paris, I imagined that it was some alma from
Cairo, some Egyptian acquaintance of my friend
Dawzats, who, encouraged by the reception
which I had given to the beautiful Amany and
her brown companions, Saudiroun and Rangoun,
had come to implore my patronage as a journalist.
" Ladies, what can I do for you V said I, put-
ting my hands to my ears in such a manner as
to produce a salaam sufficiently satisfactory.
The beautiful Turk raised her eyes to the ceil-
ing, brought them back to the carpet, and looked
at her sister with a profoundly meditative air.
She did not understand a word of French.
" Hola, Francesco! scoundrel, varlet, stupid
fellow, bo of some use to me at least once in your
life."
Francesco approached with an important and
solemn air.
" Since you speak French so badly, you must
speak Arabic well, and shall play the part of
dragoman between these ladies and myself. I
will elevate you to the dignity of an interpreter;
first ask these two beautiful strangers who they
are, whence they come, and what they want."
AVithout describing the various grimaces of
Francesco, I ■^^^ll report the conversation as he
interpreted it.
" Sir," said the beautiful Turk, "though you
are a literary man, you must have read the
Thousand and One Nights, Arabic tales, and the
name of Scheherazade is not unknown to you."
"The beautiful Scheherazade the wife of that
ingenious Sultan Schariar, who, to avoid being
deceived, espoused a wife every evening, and
caused her to be strangled in the morning ? I
recollect of her perfectly well."
"I am the Sultana Scheherazade, and this is
my good sister Uinarzadc, who has never failed
to say to me every night : ' My sister, before day
appears, tell us, if you arc not asleep, one of
those beautiful stories which you know.'"
" I am delighted to see you, though the visit
is a little singular ; but what procures me the
distinguished honor of receiving at my bouse,
unworthy poet as I am, the Sultana Sclieber-
azade and her sister Dinarzade ?"
"By telling stories so often, I have reached
the end of my list ; I have related all I knew. I
have exhausted the imaginary world ; the ghoules,
the magicians, the fairies, have been of great as-
sistance to me ; but all are worn out, even im-
possibility is exhausted ; the glorious sultan,
light of lights, moon and sun of the middle em-
pire, begins to yawn terribly, and handle his
[CONTIXUEC ON PAGE 154.]
152
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING UOOM COMPANION.
tilRARB COLLEGE.
Tin's m.ifjniliccnt stnictiire is situated on the
Kidgc Road, about fi mile from the incorporated
limits of the city of Philadelphia. It was found-
ed hy Stephen Girard, and is designed for the
gratuitous instruction and support of destitute
orphans. Mr. Girard was a native of France,
having emigrated to tliis country at an early age,
and settled in Philadelphia, wliere, by unwearied
industry and judicious management,' he accumu-
lated a noble fortune, the larger portion of wl>ich
he bequeathed to thecity of Philadelphia, for the
erection and support of this institution, and for
improving the city. The comer stone was laid
on the 4th July, 1833; the buildings were finished
in 1847, and the institution went into operation
on the 1st of January, 1848. The design of the
main building is that of a Greek temple of the
Corinthian order, Iiaving eight columns at each
end, and eleven on each side, including the cor-
nei* columns botli ways. The picture above re-
presented is accurately drawn, and conveys a
faithful delineation of its present appearance.
It is from the aitistic pencil of our artist Mr.
Devereaux.
VIEW OP TILE GIRARD COLLEGE, PHILADELPHIA.
COLERIDGE IN YOUTH.
With all his hookishness, however, Tiith all
his indolent inaction and indifference to the
sports of childhood, little Samuel had a dash of
fierce stubbornness in his composition. The old
women, on occasion, found cause of abating
llicir flattery; in proof, take the following anec-
dote. He was about seven years old, when, one
evening, on severe provocation from Prank, he
rushed at him, knife in hand, mamma intci-fered,
and Samuel Taylor, dreading chastisement, and
in fiercest fury, ran away to the banks of the
river Otter. The cold evening air, it was reas-
onably calculated^ would calm his nerves, and
bring him quickly home, but the calculation was
incorrect. He sat down in resolute stubbornness
on the banks of the river, and — O,formose piier,
what would the old woman say! — experienced a
" gloomy, inward satisfaction," from refleciing
how miserable his mother would be. It was in
the end of October — the night was slormy; he
lay on the damp ground, with the mournful
murmuring of the Otter in bis ear ; but be
flinched not, nor relented'; with dogged deler-
mination, he resolved losleep itout. His home,
meanwhile, was in a tumult of distress and con-
sternation. Search in all directions was insti-
tuted; the village was scared from its slumbers,
and, ere morning, the ponds and river were
dragged. At five in the morning the little ras-
cal awoke, found himself able to cry hut faintly,
and was utterly unable to move. His crying,
though feeble, attracted Sir Stafford North'cote]
who bad been out all night, and he was borne
home. The joy of his ]>arents was inexpressible ;
but, meantime, in rushed a young lady, crying
out : " I hope you'll whip him, Mrs. Coleridge ]"
Coleridge informs us, thatneither pbilof^opby nor
religion v/as ever alile to allay his inveterate an-
tipathy to that woman.
To know a man observe how he win.s his ol)-
ject ratlier than how he loses it; for when we
fail, our |)ridc bujiports us, when we succeed, it
betrays us.
JOHN R. SCOTT.
We present below a \cry excellent picture
of this distinguished American actor, in one of
his best characters, in the new and popular play
of Ingomar. We have several times had occa-
sion in these columns to refer to the plot of Ibis
piece, which is doubtless familiar to a large por-
tion of our readers. Mrs. Mowatt has rendered
the play very popular by the personation of the
heroine Parthenia ; and Mr. Scott has done the
part of the love-led savage full justice. His phys-
ical appearance is well adapted to the part, and
his conception of the author's creation is said to
be very nearly faultless. Mr. Scott is a great
favorite among the theatre-goers of New York.
It is only the last season that he performed a
highly successful engagement at the Howard
Athenaeum, Boston.
LAKE SUPERIOR.
There are few persons in this country, and still
less in the Old World, who have anything like
an adequate conception of the immense extent
of this "big drink," as they say out west. To
the lakes of Europe, it bears about the same re-
alization in size which the Mississippi and Mis-
souri bear to European rivers — the lakes of Eng-
land, Scotland and Switzerland are mere pud-
dles in comparison with tliis great leviathan.
The length of Lake Superior is about five hun-
dred miles. Its greatest breadth is one hundred
and ninety. Its circumference is about seven-
teen hundred miles, or about half the distance
from New York to Livei-pool. Lake Superior is
the most westem of the great chain of lakes
which discharge their waters in the St. Law-
rence. Its depth is nine hundred feet, while its
height above the Atlantic is put down at nearly
six Imndred feet. To show still farther the
magnitude of this glorious lake, we would state
that it contains a single island almost as large
as Scotland — ^whilc it has several as large as the
States of Rhode Island and Delaware. Lake
Superior is the recipient of some thirty rivers. —
Travds at the Northiccst.
JOHN R. SCOTTj THE TRAGEDIAN^ AS INGOMAR.
BOYHOOD OF CAPl'AIN COOK.
The discoveries of the English circumnavigator
were owing to a particularly marked shilling.
Young Cook was a native of Yorkshire, and
served as apprentice to a merchant and shop-
keeper, in a large iisliing town in that county.
Some money liad been missed from the till, and,
to detect the delinquent, a very curiously marked
shilling was mixed with the silver, which was
accurately counted. On examining the till short-
ly after, this peculiar shilling was missing, and
Cook was taxed with having taken it out; this
he instantly acknowledged, stating that its pe-
culiarity had caught his eye, but afhrmcd, at tiie
same time, that he had put another of his own
in its place. The money was accordingly count-
ed over again, and found to agree exactly with
his statement. Althougli the family was highly
respectable, and therefore ca])able of advancing
him in las future prospects, and also much at-
tached to him, and very kind, yet the high spirit
of the boy could not brook remaining in a situa-
tion where he hiid l)ccn suspected ; lie therefo.ro
ran away, ami, liaving no oilier resource, en-
tered as a cabin-boy in a collier. — N. Y. Tribune.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAI. DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
153
JOHK S. THRASHER.
The subject of the following sketch is one of the ex-
amples which the history of the American people pre-
sent so often to the world, to the honor of our New
England enterprise and New England education. Mr.
Thrasher was horn in Portland, Me., on the 11th of
November, 1818, and resided there until the year 1 835.
Having attained the education which our free schools
offer to a poor man's son, he followed his father,
whose precarious hcalih impelled him to seek a warmer
clime, to the genial island of Cuba. There he en-
tered a commercial house, and for many years dedi-
cated liimself to commercial pursuits, hlling up llie
hours of relaxation with the study of the political and
social condition of the island. His attainments on
this subject probably surpass those of any of our
countrymen, from the simple fact that he has had
more opportunity than any other person to prosecute
his studies, and that he possesses the language to a
great degree of fluency. His intercourse with the
people of Cuba, and a perfect knowledge of their un-
happy situation, their ardent aspirations, and their
natural capabilities, induced him to sympathize with
them in their desire to tlirow off the degrading chains
that bind them, and to attain more free and liberal
institutions tlirough the assertion of those natural
rights of self-goverimient with which every people
are endowed. But his intimate knowledge of the so-
cial and moral condition of the people of Cuba re-
Etrained him from taking an active part in the exer-
tions of the more ardent of the sous of Cuba to attain
the liberty of their country. He viewed their necessi-
ties and their prospects through a more practical me-
dium, and believed that he could contribute more effi-
caciously to the ultimate happiness of Cuba, by direct-
ing his exertions to the instruction and elevation of
the people. In the year 1850 lie purchased the news-
paper called the " Faro Industrial," at that time hav-
ing a precarious existence in Havana, and entered at
once upon the duties of his self-imposed and laborious
mission. Tho circulation of the journal increased
with such rapidity that in three weeks it had advanced
from a daily issue of eight hundred, to one of more
than three thousand copies. The government took
tlie alarm, and in September of the same year a spe-
cial decree of the captain-general prohibited Mr.
Thrasher from publishing a paper in Cuba because
he was not a Spanish subject. Mr. Thrasher contin-
ued an indirect connection with the "Faro Industrial
time of its suppression on the 1st of September, 1851.
unfortunate expedition of Lopez had melted away, and the men
who composed it were brought prisoners to Havana' Mr. Thrasher,
indignant at the want of sympathy and American feeling displayed
by our consul there, came boldly forward to relievo their distress.
He did this, well knowing that it would subject him to the deepest
odium and suspicion on the part of the government, but his patri-
otic indignation and his American spirit impelled him to the dutv.
His influence in Havana enabled him in a few days to clothe and
supply with food nearly 200 prisoners — and in five days he raised
and expended for their benefit over three thousand dollars. This
so irritated the government that he was arrested, charged with
treason, on the assumption that he was a Spanish subject, and
up to the
Wlien the
PORTRAIT OF JOHN S. THRASHER.
without defence, and with only a mockery of trial, sentenced to
eight years labor in chains* in Africa. He was embarked for
Spain, and finally sent to the penal colony of Ceuta in Africa,
where he was put in chains, but not compelled to labor. The in-
dignant expression of public sentiment in this country, when tho
news of his sentence and embarkation was received, induced tho
Spanish government to liberate him before any communications
were received from "Washington, with the sole limitation of being
prohibited to return to Cuba. Since his return to his native laud
he has contributed his efforts to the adoption of a more vigorous
policy in the protection of our countrymen abroad, and to the
giving of public sentiment a proper direction on the question of
Cuba. We can only say Gcod speed him in his efibrts, both in be-
half of our countrymen abroad, and in behalf of unhappy Cuba.
FORT INDEPENDENCE, BOSTON HARBOR,
Fort Independence, a bird's-eye view of which is
represented by our artist below, is built on a small,
low island in the harbor of Boston, nearly three miles
east-southeast from the city, and about one mile
from Dorchester Point (formerly so called, but now
in South Boston). It is about the same distance from
Governor's Island, which appears prominent in our
view. The main channel from the sea to the city is
between tho island opposite and Fort Independence.
It was formerly called Castle Island, or Castle Wil-
liam ; as the fortress was so named in honor of King
William HI, near the close of the seventeenth century.
In the various wars between England and France,
about the middle of the last century, when Boston
was in danger of a visit from French fleets. Castle
Island was fortified and manned for the protection of
the metropolis. It was many years in a good state
for preventing any vessels passing up to the city ;
within the last few years it has been entirely rebuilt
in tho most perfect and substantial manner, and can
accommodate within its walls a garrison of four hun-
dred men. It is now occupied by two companies of
U. S. soldiers. Fort Warren, on Governor's Island,
opposite, has been dismantled, and is to be rebuilt of
granite.
FISH WITHOUT EYES.
N. P. Willis, writing from the Mammoth Cave, in
Kentucky, gives the following description of the noted
eyeless fish: "We reached Lethe, with many stops
and occasional drops of encouragement and water
from Stephen's flask, and here we halted to catch one
of the ei/eless Jhh who swim in this river of forgetful-
ness. 1 held the lamp while the pole net was quietly
slipped under the little victim of celebrity. He saw
no danger, poor thing, and stirred never a fin to escape
being taken out of his element and raised to a higher
sphere. In size he was like the larger kind of what
> the boys call a ' minim ' — say an inch and a half long
— but very different in construction and color. His
body was quite white, translucent, and wholly without
an intestinal canal. The stomach was directly behind
the brain, and all the organs of the system were for-
ward of the gills — the head alone having blood or other
discoloration. Under the chin he disposed of what;
was superfluous in his noiu-ishmcut. He was curiously
correspondent, indeed, to the poetized character of the
place — like a fish in progress of becoming a fish in spirit-land,
his dis-animalization having commenced radically at the tail and
working upward. Nothing could be more purely beautiful and
graceful than the pearly and spotless body which had heavenly-
tied first, leaving the head to follow. 1 looked for some minutes
at the others swimming in the stream. They idled about, with a
purposeless and luxurious tranquillity, and I observed that they
ran their noses against the rocky sides of the dark river with no
manner of precaution. Unhurt and unannoycd, they simply
turned back from the opposing obstacle, and swam slowly away.
The scientific people tell us that these blind fish once had iiyesi, and
that the microscope still shows the collapsed socket. The organ
has died out in the darkness of the subterranean river — dwindled
into annihilation with lack of usmg."
BIRD S EYE VIEW OF FORT INDEPENDENCE, IN BOSTON HARBOR.
154
GLEASON'S PlCTOllIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[CONTINUKD I'-ltOM PAGE 151.]
sword-hilt. Tliia moniinij; I told my lust story,
and my sublime lord 1ms dcij^iicd to spare my
head ; by means of the mft*,nc carpet of the four
Facardins, I have como here in haste to seek a
talc, a story, or novel, for to-morrow morning, at
the usual appeal of my .sister Dinarzadc, I must
say something to tlic great Schariar, the arbiter
of my destinies ; he is more eager for stories than
over, and Ids curiosity alone can counterbalance
Ins cruelty."
"Your Sultan Schariar, my poor Scheher-
azade, closely resembles the public: if we cease
to amuse it for a single day, it does not cut off
our heads; it forgets us, which is worse. I am
sorry fur your fate; but wliat can I do V
" Have you not in your portfolio some story,
some romance ? Give it me,"
"What do you ask, charming sultana? I
have nothing ; I labor only when prompted by
the most extreme famine ; for, as Perse has said :
' Fames facit poetridas picas.' I have still enough
to live on three days. Go and find Ivarr, he has
his heart full of delicious love-stories; waylay
Jules Janin, and he will improvise to you such a
story as the Sultan Schariar never heard."
Poor Scheherazade raised towards the ceiling
her long eyelashes, tinged with henna, with a
look so soft, so lustrous, so gentle and suppliant,
that I felt myself softened, and took a desperate
resolution.
" I have a subject of which I was about to
make an article ; I will dictate to you : you shall
translate it into Arabic, adding the embroidery,
flowers and pearls of poesy %vhich it lacks. The
title is already found ; we will call it the ' Thou-
sand and Second Night.' "
Scheherazade took a sheet of paper, and began
to write from right to left, in the Oriental man-
ner, with great rapidity. There was no time to
lose ; for this very evening she must be in the
capital of the kingdom of Samarcand.
There was once, in the city of Cairo, a young
man named Sidi-Mahmoud, who lived in the
square of the Esbckick.
His father and mother had died some years
before, leaving him a moderate fortune, but suf-
ficient to prevent his being compelled to labor
for his own support. Some would have laden a
vessel with merchandize, or added some camel-
loads of precious stuffs to the caravan which
goes from Bagdad to Mecca; but Sidi-Mahmoud
preferred to live tranquilly; and his pleasures
consisted in smoking latakie in his narguillie,
drinking sherbet, and eating the dried comfitures
of Damascus.
Though his person was well made, his features
regular, and his mien agreeable, he had often re-
plied to those who had proposed his marriage,
and suggested wealthy and suitable partners,
that it was not yet time, and that he had no de-
sire to take a wife.
Sidi-Mahmoud had received a good education :
he read fluently the most ancient books, wrote
well, knew by heart the verses of the Koran, with
the remarks of commentators, and was himself a
poet of no me?.n pretensions.
By dint of smoking his narguilhe and dream-
ing in the cool of the evening on the marble
steps of his terrace, the head of Sidi-Mahmoud
had become a little visionary : he had formed
the plan of becoming the lover of a peri, or, at
least, of a princess of the blood-royal. This was
the secret motive which led him to receive with
so much indifference the propositions of mar-
riage, and refuse the offers of slave-merchants.
The only companion he could endure was his
cousin, AbdulMalek, a gentle and timid young
man who seemed to share in his humble tastes.
One day Sidi-Mahmoud repaired to the bazaar
to pmxhase some flasks of atar-guU, and other
medi'_'incs, from Constantinople, which he need-
ed. In a very nari'ow street he met a litter,
closed by curtains of crimson velvet, borne by
two white mules, and preceded by richly-dressed
zebecs and messengers. He stood aside to allow
the cortege to pass, but not so hastily but that he
saw through the interstices of the curtains, which
a light breeze wafted aside, a very beautiful lady,
seated on cushions of gold brocade. This lady,
confiding in the thickness of the curtains, and
believing herself safe from rash glances, had
raised her veil on account of the heat. It was
but a glimpse ; but this was sufficient to turn the
head of poor Sidi-Mahmoud. This lady had a
complexion of dazzling whiteness, delicately pen-
cilled eyebrows, a pomegranate mouth, which
bnlf opened to reveal a double row of Orient
l)earls, finer and more limpid than those which
form the bracelets and necklace of the favorite
sultana, a ])roud and agreeable mien, and about
her whole pennon sometliing nolilc and regal.
Sidi-Mahmoud, as if dazzled with so many
perfections, remained a long time motionless in
the same place, and, forgetting that he had gone
out to make purchases, returned liomo empty-
handed, carrying in his heart the radiant vision.
All night long he dreamed of the beautiful in-
cognita, and as soon as he had risen, began to
compose in her honor a long piece of poetry, in
which the most flowery and gallant comparisons
were lavished.
Not knowing wliat to do, his piece finished
and transcribed on a beautiful leaf of papyrus,
with handsome capitals in red ink and gilt flow-
ers, he put it in his sleeve, and went out to show
this precious document to his friend Abdul, from
whom he had no secrets.
On his way to the house of Abdul, he passed
the bazaar, and entered the shop of a perfumer
to buy his flasks of atar-gull. There lie found a
beautiful lady, enveloped in a long white veil,
which left uncovered only her left eye. By this
eye alone, Sidi-Mahmoud instantly recognized
the lady of the palanquin. His emotion was so
powerful that he was obliged to lean against the
wall.
The lady of the white veil perceived the un-
easiness of Sidi-Mahmoud, and obligingly asked
him what was the matter, and whether he was ill.
The merchant, the lady and Sidi-Mahmoud
passed into the back shop. A little negro
brought on a waiter a glass of snow-water, of
which Sidi-Mahmoud drank.
" Why has the sight of me caused you such
lively emotion V said the lady, in a gentle tone
of voice, and with a tender interest.
Sidi-Mahmoud related how he had seen her
near the mosque of the Sultan Hassan, at the
moment when the curtains of her litter were a
little apart, and that from that instant he had
been dying of love for her.
'* Indeed," said the lady, " your passion was
sudden ; I did not know that love came so quick-
ly. I am in fact the woman whom you met
yesterday ; I was going to the bath in mj litter,
and as the heat was oppressive, I raised my veil.
But you saw me imperfectly ; I am not aa beau-
tiful as you suppose."
On saying these words, she removed her veil,
and discovered a countenance radiant with beau-
ty, and so perfect that envy itself could not find
the slightest defect in it.
Youmay judge of the transports of Sidi-Mah-
moud at such a favor ; he lavished compliments,
which had the merit of being sincere. As he
spoke with much earnestness and vehemence, the
paper, on which his verses were transcribed, es-
caped from his sleeve, and rolled on the floor.
*' What paper is this V said the lady. " The
wTiting appears to me very beautiful, and be-
tokens a practised hand."
" It is," replied the young man, blushing deep-
ly, " a copy of verses I composed last night, as
I was unable to sleep. I have attempted to cele-
brate your perfections, but the copy is far from
equalling the original, and my verses have not
brilliancy enough to describe that of your eyes."
The young lady read the verses attentively,
and said, as she placed them in her girdle :
" Though they contain some flattery, they are
well written."
Then she adjusted her veil and left the shop,
saying, with an accent which penetrated the
heart of Sidi-Mahmoud :
" I sometimes come, on ray return from the
bath, to purchase essences and perfumes from
Bedredin."
The merchant congratulated Sidi-Mahmoud
on his good fortune, and, leading him to the
furthest extremity of his shop, whispered in his
ear:
"That young lady is the Princess Ayesha,
daughter of the caliph."
Sidi-Mahmoud returned home, bewildered with
his happiness, and not daring to believe it.
Meanwhile, modest as he was, he could not but
perceive that the Princess Ayesha looked upon
him with a favorable eye. Chance, that great
intermeddler, had been beyond bis most sanguine
hopes. How he then congratulated himself for
not having yielded to the suggestions of his
friends, and to the seductive portraits they had
drawn of marriageable young girls, who have
always, as every one knows, gazelle eyes, full
moon figures, hair longer than the mane of Al-
borah, mouths of jasper red, with ambergris
breath, and a thousand other perfections which
disappear with the haick and the nuptial veil !
How fortunate was lie in being free from all vul-
gar ties, free to give himself up entirely to his
new passion !
In vain did he toss and turn on his divan ; he
could not sleep; the imsigc of tlie Princess Aye-
sha, sparkling like a bird of flame on a ground
like sunset, passed and re-passed before his eyes.
Unal>le to find repose, he ascended to one of
those elaborately carved rooms, which are ap-
pended, in the cities of the East, to the exterior
walls of the houses, to enable the inhaltitants to
profit by the coolness and current of air ])assing
through the street ; sleep did not come to him
there, for it is like happiness : it flics when we
seek it; and, to compose his spirits by the spec-
tacle of a tranquil night, he repaired with his
narguilhe to the highest terrace of his habitation.
The fresh night-air, the beauty of the sky, be-
spangled with gold like tlie robe of a peri, and
on which the moon displayed her silver checks,
as a sultana, pale with love, who leans against the
trellis of her kiosque ; all these were pleasant to
Sidi-Mahmoud, for he was a poet, and could not
be insensible to the magnificent spectacle pre-
sented to his view.
From this, height, the city of Cairo unfolded
before him, like those plans in relief, in which
the giaours trace their fortified cities. The ter-
races ornamented with pots of thriving plants,
and patches of grass ; the squares mirrored in
the waters of the Nile, for it was the period of
inundation ; the gardens studded with groups of
palm-trees, tufts of the carob and nopal-tree ; the
islands of houses, interspersed with narrow
streets ; the ten cupolas of the mosques ; the
slender minarets, carved like ivory rattles; the
obscure or luminous angles of tho palaces, form-
ed a coup d'veily in which there was nothing left
to be desired. In the back-ground, the ashy
sands of the plain blended their tints with the
milky colors of the firmament, and the three
pyramids of Gizeh, vaguely outlined by a bluish
ray, lifted their gigantic triangles of stone against
the far horizon.
Seated on a pile of cushions, and with his body
enveloped in the elastic circumvolutions of the
pipe of his nargiulhe, Sidi-Mahmoud sought to
distinguish through the obscurity the distant
form of the palace, where slept the beautiful
Ayesha. A profound silence reigned over the
scene before him, for no breath, no murmur, re-
vealed the presence of a living being ; the only
perceptible sound was that made by the smoke
of the narguilhe in traversing the bowl of rock-
crystal, filled with water, intended to cool its
white puffs. Suddenly a sharp cry broke forth
amid the silence — a cry of extreme distress, such
as the antelope might utter beneath the claw of
the lion, or with his head buried in the mouth of
a crocodile. Sidi-Mahmoud, startled by the cry
of agony and despair, rose with one bound and
instinctively laid his hand on the pommel of his
yataghan ; then bent over in the dii'cction whence
the sound proceeded.
He distinguished, far off in the shadow, a
strange group, composed of a white figure pur-
sued by a number of black, grotesque and mon-
strous forms, with frenzied gestures, and disor-
dered dress. The white shadow seemed to flit
over the tops of the houses, and the inteival by
which it was separated from its persecutors was
so small that it was to be feared it would soon
be overtaken, and be beyond the reach of assist-
ance. Sidi-Mahmoud at first thought it was a
peri pursued by a swarm of ghoules ; and draw-
ing from his pocket his agate beads, he began to
recite, as a preservative, tho ninety-nine names
of Allah. He had not reached the twentieth
when he stopped. It was not a peri, a super-
natural being that was thus flying, leaping from
terrace to terrace, and clearing the streets, four or
five feet broad, which intersect the compact
blocks of an Oriental city, but a woman ; the
ghoules were zebecs, chiaoux and eunuchs, in
furious pursuit.
Two or three terraces and a street still sepa-
rated the fugitive from the platform where Sidi-
Mahmoud stood ; but her strength seemed to fail
her ; she convulsively turned her head, and like
an exhausted steed obedient to the spur, seeing
so near her the hideous group by which she was
pursued, with a de=ipairing bound she placed the
street between herself and her enemies.
In alighting, she slightly brushed against Sidi-
Mahmoud, whom she did not perceive, for the
moon was veiled, and ran to the extremity of the
terrace, which overhung a second street broader
than the first. Despairing of being able to leap
it, slie appeared to seek some corner in which to
hide ; and perceiving a large marble vase, she
concealed itself within, like a fairy in the cup of
a lily.
The enraged troop invaded tl)e terrace with
the impetuosity of a com))any of demon*. Their
black or co)>per-co!ored facew, witli long mous-
taches, or hideously beardless, their sparkling
eyes, their shrivelled hands brandishing poig-
nards, the fury imprinted on their mean and
ferocious physiognomies, caused in Sidi-Mah-
moud an impulse of terror, though Jje was brave
and skilled in the use of arms. They cast their
eyes over the terrace, and not seeing the fugitive,
undoubtedly thought she had overleaped tho
second street, and continued their pursuit with-
out paying any attention to Sidi-Mahmoud.
When the clash of their arms and the sound of
their halxwches on the steps of the terraces had
died away in the distance, the fugitive began to
raise her pretty pale head above the edge of the
vase, and looking around her with the glance of
a frightened antelope, at length stood ; perceiv-
ing only Sidi-Mahmoud, who smiled upon her,
and signified that she had nothing to fear, sho
sprang out of the vase and came towards the
young man in an humble attitude, and with sup-
pliant arms.
"Pity, my lord; save me; conceal me in the
most obscure corner of your mansion; hide me
from the demons who are pursuing me !"
Sidi-Mahmoud took her by the hand, led her
to the stairs descending from the terrace, the
trap-door of whicli he carefully closed, and con-
ducted her to his room. When he had lighted
the lamp, he saw that the fugitive was young,
which he had already divined by the silvery tone
of her voice, and very pretty, which did not sur-
prise him, for, by tlic starlight, he had distin-
guished her elegant stature. She appeared to be
fifteen years old at most. Her extreme paleness
strongly contrasted with her large black eyes;
her delicate nose gave an air of nobility to her
profile, which might have been envied by the
most beautiful daughters of Chio, or Cyprus,
and have rivalled the idols of marble adored by
the old Pagan Greeks. Her neck was charming
and of perfect whiteness. Her garments were
simple, and were composed of an embroidered
silk vest, pantalettes of muslin, and a paste-
colored girdle ; her bosom rose and fell beneath
a tunic of striped gauze, for she was still out of
breath from recent terror. When she had rested
a little, and become re-assured, she knelt before
Sidi-Mahmoud, and related to him her history in
very good language :
" I was a slave in the seraglio of Abu-Becker,
and committed a fault in conveying to the sulta-
na a flowery letter, sent by a young emir, with
whom she had a love affair. Abu-Becker, having
intercepted it, became horribly enraged, caused
his favorite to be placed in a sack and thrown
into the sea, and condemned me to have my
head cut ofl^. The Kislar-aga was commissioned
to perform this act; but, profiting by the alarm
and disorder which the terrible punishment in-
flicted on poor Nourmahal had caused in the
seraglio, and finding the trap-door of the terrace
open, I fled. My flight was perceived, and the
black eunuchs, the zebecs and the Albanians, in
my master's service, pursued me. I have no
hope but in you. Abu-Becker is powerful ; ho
will seek me, and if he finds me, the sword of
Mesrour will not be satisfied with wounding my
neck," said she, smilingly, touching with her
hand a roseate streak, traced by the sabre of the
zebec. "Accept me for your slave; I will con-
secrate to you the life I owe you. Yon shall
always have my shonlder to rest your elbow
upon, and my hair to wipe the dust from your
sandals."
Sidi-Mahmoud was by nature very compas-
sionate, like all people who have studied letters
and poesy. Leila, such was the name of tho
fugitive slave, expressed herself in choice terms ;
she was young, beautiful, and had she not been
so, humanity forbade his sending her away.
Sidi-Mahmoud pointed out to the slave a Persian
caq^et, some silken cushions in a corner of the
room, and on the platform a little collation of
dates, preserved citrons, and conserves of roses
from Constantinople, which, distracted by his
thoughts, he had not himself touched, and two
iars of cool water, in the poi-ous earth of Tlicbcs,
set in saucers of porcelain from Japan, and cov-
ered with a pearly transpiration. Having thus
provided for Leila, he re-asccnded to the terrace
to finish his narguilhe, and find the last stanza
of the verses he was composing in honor of tho
Princess Ayesha, a madrigal into which the lilies of
Iran, the flowers of Gulistan, the stars and all the
celestial constellations struggled for an entrance.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
155
The next day, as soon as daylight appeared,
Sidi-Mahmond reflected that he Iiad no musk, or
benzoin, and that his silken bag, embroidered
with gold, and studded with spangles, in which
he kept his latakle, was worn out, and needed to
be replaced. Having scarcely taken time to per-
form his ablutions, and recite his prayers, he left
his house, after having copied his verses and put
them in his sleeve, not with the intention of
showing them to his friend Abdul, but of giving
them to the Princess Aycsha in person, in case
he should meet her at the bazaar, in the shop of
Bedredin. The muezzin, perched on the bal-
cony of the minaret, announced only the fifth
hour ; there were in the streets only fellahs,
driving, before them asses, laden with water-
melons, branches of dates, chickens tied together
by the claws, and quarters of mutton, which
they were carrying to market. He was in the
quarter where the palace of Ayesha was situated,
but saw only its white and embattled walls.
Nothing appeared at the three or four little win-
dows closed by wooden lattices, with narrow in-
terstices, which allowed the people of the house
to see what was passing in the street, but left no
opportunity for the inquisitive glances of those
without. The Oriental palaces reserve their
magnificence for the interior, and turn, so to
speak, their backs upon the passer-by. Sidi-
Mahmoud did not, therefore, derive ranch bene-
fit from his investigations. He saw two or three
black slaves, richly clad, enter and leave, whose
proud and insolent mien betokened the conscious-
ness of belonging to a house of consideration,
and a person of the highest quality. Our lover,
as he gazed upon the thick walls, made vain
efforts to discover on which side were the apart-
ments of Ayesha. He could not succeed ■, the
grand portal, formed by an arch, was walled at
the extremity, giving access into the court only
by a lateral door, and did not allow a glance to
penetrate it.
Sidi-Mahmoud was obliged to withdraw, with-
out having made any discovery. The hour was
growing later, and he might be remarked. He,
therefore, went to the shop of Bedredin, where,
to induce him to be favorable, he bought a num-
ber of articles of which he had need. He seated
himself in the shop, questioned the merchant,
asked him whether he had made a fortunate sale
of the silks and carpets, brought from Aleppo
by the last caravan, if his vessels had arrived
safely at port, in short, prolonged his stay in
hopes to see Ayesha appear ; but she came not.
He returned home with a full heart, calling her
cruel and perfidious, as if she had actually pro-
mised to meet him at the shop of Bedredin, and
failed to keep her word.
On re-entering his chamber, he put his babon-
ches in the niche of sculptured marble Iiollowed
out at the side of the door for this purpose ; took
off" the cafran of precious stuti", which he had put
on with the idea of setting off his fine person to
good advantage before Ayesha, and threw him-
self on his divan in a state bordering on despair.
It seemed to him as if all was lost, as if the
world were about to come to an end, and he bit-
terly took refuge in fatality ; all for not having
met, as he had hoped, a woman whom two days
before he had never seen.
As he had closed his bodily eyes, the better to
see his soul's idol, he felt ?. light breeze refresh-
ing his brow ; he raised his eyelids, and saw,
seated beside him on the floor, Leila, who was
agitating one of those palm-leaves which serve in
the East as fans. He had entirely forgotten her.
"What is the matter, my dear lord r' said
she, in a voice pearly and melodious as music.
" You do not appear to enjoy your tranquillity of
mind ; some anxiety torments you. If it was
in the power of your slave to dissipate the cloud
of sadness which veils your brow, she would
esteem herself the happiest woman in the world,
and envy not the Sultana Ayesha herself, beauti-
ful and rich as she is."
This name made Sidi-Mahmoud start from his
divan, like a sick man whose wound is accident-
ally touched ; he cast an inquisitive glance upon
Leila, whose countenance was calm, and ex-
pressed only the most lender solicitude. Never-
theless, he blushed, as if she had surprised the
secret of his passion. Leila, without seeming to
notice this significant color, continued to offer
consolation to her new master :
" What can I do to drive away from your
spirit the gloomy ideas which obscure it ? a little
music will, perhaps, dissipate this melancholy.
An old slave, who had been an odalisque of the
former sultan, taught me the secret of composi-
tion ; I can improvise verses, and accompany
myself on the guzla."
As she said these words, she detached from
the wall tlie guzla of citron wood, with its han-
dle incrusted with mother-of-pearl and ebony,
and played some Arabian airs with rare perfec-
tion.
The sweetness of the voice and music would,
on any other occasion, have rejoiced Sidi-Mah-
moud, who was very sensitive to the beauties of
poesy and harmony ; but his brain and heart
were so pre-occupicd with the lady whom he had
seen in Bedredin's shop, that he paid no atten-
tion to Leila's songs.
The next day, more fortunate than before, he
met Ayesha in the shop of Bedredin. To describe
his joy would be an impossibility; only those
who are in love can comprehend it. He remain-
ed a moment voiceless, breathless. Ayesha, who
saw his emotion, spoke to him with much affabil-
ity, for nothing flatters persons of high birth so
much as the imeasiness they inspire. Sidi-Mah-
moud, recovering himself, used all his efforts to
be agreeable, and as he was young, of handsome
person, had studied poesy, and expressed him-
self in elegant terms, he thought he perceived he
was not unpleasing to her, and was encouraged
to request an interview with the princess at a less
public place than Bedredin's shop.
" I know," said he, " that I am only worthy to
be dust in your pathway, that the distance between
us could not be traversed in a thousand years by
a horse, of the same race with the prophet's, fly-
ing at a gallop ; but love renders me bold, and
the caterpillar, enamored of the rose, cannot re-
frain from avowing its love."
Ayesha listened to all this without the least
sign of anger, and, fixing on Sidi-Mahmoud eyes
heavy with languor, said :
" To-morrow evening, at the hour of prayer,
be in the mosque of the Sultan Hassan, beneath
the third lamp ; there you will meet a black
slave clad in yellow damask. He will walk be-
fore you, and you will follow him."
This said, she drew her veil over her face, and
went out.
Our lover did not fail to be at the rendezvous.
He stationed himself beneath the third lamp, not
daring to stir lest he should not be found by the
black slave, who was not yet at his post. It is
true that Sidi-Mahmoud had anticipated by two
hours the time appointed. At last he saw the
negro, clad in yellow damask, appear, and come
directly to the pillar, against which Sidi-Mah-
moud was standing. The slave, having looked
at him attentively, made a sign to him to follow.
They both left the mosque. The negro marched
with rapid steps, and conducted Sidi-Mahmoud
by an infinite number of windings through the
complicated and tangled skein of the streets of
Cairo. Our young man once attempted to speak
to his guide, but the latter passed on without re-
plying. At last they arrived at a square of the
city entirely deserted, and with which Sidi-Mah-
moud was unacquainted, though he was a native
of Cairo, and thought he knew every quarter of
the city. The mute stopped before a white wall,
where there was no appearance of a door ; he
counted six paces from the corner of the wall,
and examining it attentively, touched a spring
concealed between the stones. A column turned
on itself, and revealed a dark and narrow pass-
age, which the mute entered, followed by Sidi-
Mahmoud. Tliey first descended more than a
hundred steps, and afterwards followed an ob-
scure corridor of interminable length. Sidi-
Mahmoud, as he groped along the walls, per-
ceived that they were of living rock, sculptured
with hieroglyphics, and comprehended that he
was in one of those subterranean galleries of an
ancient Egyptian necropolis, which had been
used for a secret outlet. At the end of a corri-
dor sparkled some gleams of a bluish light.
This light proceeded from some sculptured orna-
ments, which evidently made a part of the saloon
adjoining the corridor. The mute touched
another spring, and Sidi-Mahmoud found him-
self in a saloon paved with marble, with a foun-
tain in the midst, alabaster columns, walls lined
with mosaics in glass, sentences of the Koran in-
terspersed with flowers and ornaments, and cov-
ered with a sculptured ceiling glittering like a
grotto with stalactites ; enormous bouquets of
flowers, in vases of white and blue porcelain,
completed the decorations. On a platform orna-
mented with cushions, a species of alcove, was
seated the Princess Ayesha, unveiled, radiant,
and surpassing in beauty the hourisof the fourth
heaven.
" Well, Sidi-Mahmoud, have you made other
verses in my honor ?" said slie, in a most gra-
cious tone, and beckoning to him to be seated.
Sidi-Mahmoud threw himself at the feet of
Ayesha, drew his papyrus from his sleeve, and
recited his madrigal in the most passionate tone ;
it was truly a remarkable piece of poesy. While
he was reading, the cheeks of the princess kin-
dled like an alabaster lamp which has just been
lighted. Her eyes sparkled with rays of extra-
ordinary brilliancy ; her body became, as it were,
transparent, and buttei-fly wings peeped out from
her shoulders. Unfortunately, Sidi-Mahmoud,
occupied with his reading, did not raise his eyes
or perceive this metamorphosis. When he had
finished, he saw before him only the Princess
Ayesha, who looked at him with an ironical
smile.
Like all poets, pre-occupied with their own
creations, Sidi-Mahmoud had forgotten that the
finest verses are not as valuable as a sincere
word, or a look illuminated by the light of love.
Peris are like women, and their thoughts must
be divined and arrested before they plume their
flight heavenward.
" Indeed," said Ayesha, " you have rare poetic
talent, and yom* verses deserve to be affixed to
the door of a mosque, written in letters of gold,
beside the celebrated productions of Ferdoussi,
Saadi and Ibn Ben Omaz. It is a pity that, ab-
sorbed by the perfection of your own rhymes,
you did not just now look at me. Your most
cherished vow was fulfilled, and yon did not
know it. Adieu, Sidi-Mahmoud, who can love
only a peri !"
Thereupon Ayesha arose with a majestic air,
lifted a brocade curtain, and disappeared.
The mute returned, and re-conducted Sidi-
Mahmoud by the way he had come. Afflicted
and surprised at having been thus dismissed, the
young man knew not what to think, and lost
himself to reflection, unable to divine a motive
for the abrupt exit of the princess; he ended by
attributing it to the caprice of a woman, who
changes her mind at the first opportunity; but it
was in vain that he frequented the shop of Be-
dredin, lie no longer met the piincess there; he
made an infinite number of pilgrimages to the
third pillar of the mosque of the Sultan Hassan,
but never again saw the negro clad in yellow
damask, which threw him into a dark and pro-
found melancholy.
Leila exhausted herself in inventions to amuse
him : she played on the guzla ; she recited won-
derful stories ; adorned his room with bouquets,
the colors of which were so well diversified and
blended, that the eye was as much «[elighted as
the smell ; sometimes she even danced before
him with as much agility and grace as the most
skilful alma. Any one but Sidi-Mahmoud would
have been touched by so many attentions and
assiduities ; but his thoughts were elsewhere, and
the desire of discovering Ayesha left him no re-
pose. He had often wandered around the palace
of the princess, but had never been able to per-
ceive her ; nothing appeared behind the carefully
closed lattices ; the palace was like a tomb.
His friend Abdul-Malek, alarmed at his state,
often came to visit him, and could not fail to re-
mark the beauty of Leila, which equalled, if it
did not surpass, that of Ayesha, and was aston-
ished at the blindness of Sidi-Mahmoud ; and
if he had not feared to violate the sacred laws of
friendship, would willingly have taken the young
slave to wife. Meanwhile, without losing her
beauty, Leila became paler each day ; her large
eyes grew languishing; the rose of Aurora gave
place on her check to the paleness of moonlight.
One day Sidi-Mahmoud perceived that she was
weeping, and asked the cause.
" 0 my dear lord, how can I tell you ? I, a
poor slave, indebted to your pity, have dared to
love you ; but what am I in your eyes ? I know
that you have formed a resolution to love only a
peri or sultana ; others would be contented with
being sincerely loved by ayoung and pure heart,
and would not trouble themselves about the daugh-
ter of the caliph, or the queen of the genii. Look
at me. I was fifteen yesterday ; I am, perhaps,
as beautiful as this Ayesha of whom you so often
speak. It is true that no magic carbuncle, or
aigrette with heron-plume, sparkles on my brow ;
I do not walk accompanied by soldiers carrying
muskets encrusted with silver and coral. But I
can sing, play on the guzla, dance like Emcneh
herself, and have been a devoted sister to you ;
what can I do to touch vour heart ?"
On bearing Leila speak thus, Sidi-Mahmoud
felt his heart troubled ; nevertheless, he did not
speak, and seemed absorbed in profound medita-
tion. Two opposing resohuions disputed for the
mastery : on the one hand, he must renounce his
favorite dream; on the other, he said to himself
that it would be very foolish to cultivate an at-
tachment for a woman who had amused herself
at his expense, and left him with raillery, when
he had in his house, at least, the equal in youth
and beauty of her whom he had lost.
Leila, as she awaited his decision, had knelt,
and two tears rolled silently down the pale cheeks
of the poor child.
" Ah ! why did not the sabre of Mesrour finish
its work V said she, touching with her hand her
white and slender throat.
Touched by this accent of grief, Sidi-Mahmoud
raised the young slave, and deposited a kiss on
her forehead.
Leila raised her head like a caressed dove, and
placing herself before Sidi-Mahmoud, took his
hands and said :
" Look at me attentively ; do I not resemble
some one of your acquaintance 1"
Sidi-Mahmoud uttered a cry of surprise.
" It is the same face, the same eyes, all the
features — in a word, the Princess Ayesha! How
does it happen that I have not before noticed this
resemblance ?"
" You have, until now, cast upon your poor
slave only an absent glance," replied Leila, in a
tone of raillery.
** If the Princess Ayesha herself should now
send me her black slave in the yellow damask
robe, with the salutation of love, I would refuse
to follow him."
" Is it so V said Leila, in a voice more melo-
dious than that in which the bulbul makes its
avowals to the beloved rose. " Nevertheless,
you must not despise poor Ayesha, who resem-
bles me so much."
By way of reply, Sidi-Mahmoud pressed the
young slave to his heart. But what was his as-
tonishment when he saw the face of Leila become
illuminated, the magic carbuncle sparkled on
her brow, and wings, starred with peacock's eyes,
develop themselves on her charming shoulders !
Leila was a peri !
" I am, my dear Sidi-Mahmoud, neither the
Princess Ayesha, nor the slave Leila. My real
name is Boudroulboudour. I am a peri of the
first rank, as you may see by my carbuncle and
my wings. One evening, passing in the air be-
side your terrace, I heard you utter the desire of
being loved by a peri. This ambition pleased
me ; ignorant mortals, gross and immersed in
terrestrial pleasures, as they are, dream not of
such rare delights. I wished to try you, and as-
sumed the disguises of Ayesha and Leila, to see
whether you would recognize me, and love mo
beneath a human form. Your heart has been
more discerning than your mind, and you have
had more kindness than pride. The devotion of
the slave has made you prefer her to the sultana .
this was what I expected. For a moment car-
ried away by the beauty of your verses, I was on
the point of betraying myself; but I was afraid
you might be only a poet enamored of your own
imagination and rhymes, and withdrew, affecting
a proud disdain. You have wished to espouse
Leila the slave, Boudroulboudour the peri un-
dertakes to fill her place. I will be Leila to
others, and a peri to you alone ; for I desire your
happiness, and the world would never pardon
you for enjoying a felicity superior to its own.
Fairy as I am, it is more than I can do to defend
you from the envy and malice of men."
These conditions were accepted with transport
by Sidi-Mahmoud, and the wedding took place
as if he had really espoused the little Leila.
Such is in substance the story which I dic-
tated to Scheherazade through the medium of
Francesco.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE DYING GIRL.
BY MART J. CULLEN.
The flowers have bloomed once more, EiEter,
They "tc bloomecl in vain for me ;
For long before they 'ro gone, sister,
From earth I shall be free.
Transplanted flowers I '11 see, sister,
In gardens bright and fair ;
'T will be in that blessed home, Bister,
Where there is no more care.
There I shall wear a crown, sister,
A golden one 'twill be ;
A harp of praise I 'U have, sister,
And my Redeemer see.
With unguis I shall siog, sister,
Those soDgs of pr;ii^cs sweet ;
And then when Christ colls thee, sister,
We shall forever meet.
Then do not mourn for mc, sister,
For I am goiu^ home
To the blest land of love, sister,
Whore Jesus bids me come.
156
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DllAWING HOOM COMPANION.
O. SACKETT, TIIK VANKKE CARD WRITER.
Tiic nccomjiiinyinf; portrait of tho Yankee Card Writer
is from a d ague rreo typo l»y Holmes, of New York, and
will nerve to give our readers an idea of the pcrrional ap-
poftrance oF this original and most celebrated arlist. Mr.
O. Siu'kett was born near KoL-liestcr, N. Y.,and at a very
early iige exhibited an extraordinary talent for portraituro
and penmanship. Ills parents bemg poor, were unable
to a.ssist him, either to make progression in iiis favorite
art, or in attaining an education. Tlirough the kind-
ness of Professor I'licips, tlie principal of an academy in
Sherburne, N. Y., he, at the age of 12 years, commenced
Jiis education at that institution, paying all expenses, ex-
cept hoard, by superintending the writing department
two hours cacli day. After one year of close study, find-
ing his wardrobe deficient in many important particulars,
lie became nearly discouraged, and seriously determined
to engage in some kind of labor wiiich should furnish the
moans whereby ho might procure hooks aiul clothes, and
bo prepared to prosecute his studies in a more respectable
manner. A few days previous to that upon which he
proposed putting his plans into execution, he was pre-
sented liy Prof. Phelps with a teacher's certificate, and in-
formed that a school liad been engaged which he could
conduct — although tlien but 13 years of age — as success-
fully as any person in the State, if be only thought so
himself. This was advised by tho professor, who said :
'* If you try to earn money by maimal labor, your age and
lack of pliysical maturity will render it impossible for you
to coininand such wages as would assist you in getting an
cducatiiiii before you will become discouraged and give it
up altogether." The advice was taken — the first school
successfully taught; after which, be, for two years, alter-
nately taught and was taught, until he arrived at the ago
of 15. At this time, his talent for portraiture seemed to
have gained the ascendency; and without instruction, or
the advantages of witnessing the work of any artist, he
boldly offered himself to the public, and for two years
practised hii profession in the different cities and large
towns in his native State. His miniatures, for truthful-
ness and delicacy of tint and finish, have never been ex-
celled by any other artist in this country ; and will be
treasured as rare souvenirs, as well of the artist as the
original. At 17, he had already enjoyed the patronage of large
numbers of the most aristocratic families in different parts of the
State, whose attentions soon brought him before the public
through the press. This so increased his business that he could
not possibly execute miniatures as rapidly as ordered. Being
ambitious, he unwisely applied himself, day after day, and week
afier week, so closely to business, that he soon lost Ins sight.
After careful treatment, in two months his sight returned, but not
sufliciently perfect to ever permit him to follow his favorite pro-
fession. Nothing discouraged, he immediately commenced giving
instruction in penmanship ; arranged and perfected a most beauti-
ful system, which he called " The Science of Writing," by which
he has successfully taught in eight years, in this and several other
States, about 12,000 pupils, and left the field with a reputation far
beyond any other teacher in the United States — not only as a
professor, but as an original and most successful disciplinarian.
And yet Mr. Sackett has never received a moment's instruction
in penmanship from any person, having already given instruction
two years before witnessing the process pursued in any similar
school. All the different professions in which Mr. Sackett has
figured, have been stamped with great originality and novelty.
He seems never to have followed in a course, marked out by any
but himself; and at present, as in every profession chosen, he has
gained a higher position, and a more extended reputation, than
— having written upwards of 000,000 cards. Wherever
he ii<n-^, be is thronged with orders from the most distin-
guished families, who — notwithstanding they have always
a supply of beautifully engraved cards at a much cheaper
rate — will use no curds except those executed by tho
Yfiiih'/i. In Albany, in seven weeks, Mr. Sackett exe-
cuted with his own hands, and delivered to his custom-
ers, .'10,000. The rapidity with which he writes- — every
card is written by Imnd — is without parallel ; and for
Bplcndor and perfection of execution, cannot be equalled
by the most finished coppcrplaie. Mr. Sackett is the
originator of his profession, out of which be will easily
realize a fortune, if he docs not, as in a former case, ap-
ply himself so closely as to destroy his sight. It will be
seen that whatever Mr. Sackett has followed, for a liveli-
hood, up to the present, has been suggested by circum-
stances, and developed and made valuable by personal
effort. However, instead of exciting envy, it should
secure for liim the earnest "God speed you," of evei-j'
friend of industry and genius. The Yankee Card Writer
is now making the tour of the United States; next sum-
mer he sails for Europe.
0. SACKETT; THE YANKEE CARD WRITER.
any person preceding him. Several years since, while carefully
using a metallic pencil, he discovered that a most beautiful im-
pression was made by it upon enamelled cards. He at once com-
menced presenting his young lady pupils — with whom he has al-
ways been immensely popular — with visiting cards written by
hirnself. The result of this kindness to pupils, free of charge,
was such an increased demand for similar favors, that, in order to
stop it in future, the better to attend to the business of teaching, it
became necessary to make a charge ; and by demanding pay for
visiting cards, Mr. Sackett thought to drive all orders away, but
on the contrary, not only pupils, but those not under instruction,
were relieved of the delicacy which kept them from ordering
cards, for which no charge was made. And so great was the de-
mand, and so numerous the orders sent, that a still greater and
unreasonable charge was made but with no better success ; for the
astonishing beauty and artistic perfection of his writing at once
placed Mr. Sackett's cards far above copperplate in the estimation
of all persons of taste and fashion ; and the extravagant prices
charged were paid without reluctance. Mi". Sackett, never blind
to the attractions of money, decided to try card wniivg as a pro-
fession, and immediately commenced operations. Three years
have hardly elapsed since, and yet " The Yankee Card Writer"
— which cognomen has been assumed by Mr. Sackett — has effect-
ed the greatest revolution in the fashionable world ever witnessed
AN EFFICACIOUS CHASTISEMENT.
A most exemplary wife had the misfortune to wed a
husband, who, shortly after their marriage, became al-
most a sot. He was not a hard-hearted, or an unjust
man, but, like numerous others, could not resist tempta-
tion, and whenever asked to drink, had not the moral
courage to say "no." His wife, whom he really loved,
expostulated and reasoned, until he promised never to
take liquor again; but as soon as thrown into company,
his resolutions were forgotten, and he fell into his old de-
grading habit. She we]>t bitter, bitter tears, and began
to despair of ever weaning him from his monstrous vice,
especially as she had implored one of his false friends in
vain not to lead her husband into evil company. Regu-
larly, however, the corrupting associate called, and de-
spite of her tears, solicited her husband to visit such and
Buch a place. The infatuated man could not resist, and
went, and came in a beastly state of intoxication. Tlie
wretched woman, wronglitto frenzy by the seeming ruin
that awaited her, determined upon some plan to free her
licge-lord from the importunities of his deceitful companion. One
night, while her husband was asleep, she heard the well-known
footstep and knock at the door, and opening it carefully, with a
slout horsewhip in her hand, seized the unwelcome visitor by the
hair of the head, and inflicted upon his body a chastisement of tho
most severe character. As soon as she released him he ran off,
and has never since returned to sow thorns in the domestic ;?flrttr7-e
of her once peaceful home. Her husband was so impressed with
her strength of mind and courage, that he resolved to be as much
a man as she, and is now abstemious. — Cincinnati Conimercial.
THE SIERRA MABRE.
The view below represents that portion of the Sierra Madre, or
great mountain chain of Mexico, which lies between Monterey
and Saltillo. Here, the road, though steep, is passable for wag-
ons. More frequently, however, the only road in these wild Sier-
ras is an Indian path, or a mule track, pursuing its course over
the highest mountains, alongside of frightful precipices, and
through deep ravines ; rugged and toilsome ways, but presenting
to the traveller scenery of the most sublime description. Over
this route the insatiate desire for gold has led thousands and
thousands of our countrymen ; and the route is strown here and
there with the bones of those who have died of the hardship and
sickness which they had induced in the search for the " dust."
THE SIERRA MADRE, liEL'WEEN MONTEREY AND SALTILLO.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROO]M COMPANION.
157
FREDERICK GLEASON, Pkoprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEXTS OF OUR NEXT IVU3IBER,
" Edith Stnnfield," a tale of the olden time, by Mrs.
Caboli>'e Orne.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. I, being the commence-
ment of ii sorit's of sketches, by Dr. J. V. C. Smith, author
of" A Pilgrimage to Egypt." The doctor haa but recent-
ly returned from the Ka.st.
"The Colonel's Legacy," a tale of actual life, by F, A.
DURIVAGE.
"Travels in Palpatinc," \o. lit. being the third sketch
of our aeries, on " Tyre, Sidon and Acre," by F. W. Hol-
land.
"Autographs and Autography," by Wm. E. Knowles,
being a continuation of our series upon this Intereatiug
theme, and giving the signatures of W". E. Channing, Rev.
John IMerpout, Itufus Dawes, Caroline Ciiesebro\ Judge
Tucker, E. W. Griswold, W. D. Oallagher, aud Kobert T.
Connid.
" Warning." verses, by Caroline A. IIatden.
" Think of Me," verses, by J. II Butler.
" Sadness," a poem, by F, W. Uussell,
"Tbo Suitor," lines, by S. E. Cuurcu.
" A Ballad," by D. II.^rdv, Jr.
'' Home," lines, by Conrad S. Ktser.
" My Sweet lto.>iabelie," verses, by J. Alford.
" My Youthful Days," verses, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" Surrender of Troy," a poem, by W. E. Knowtxs.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
We shall pre.'«ent our readers with a very spirited and
accunite picture of the late fearful disiiiiter to the st«amer
Atlantic, which occurred on Lake Erie, whereby some two
hundred lives were lost. It is by our artist, Mr. C/iapin.
We shall illustrate the exterior and interior of one of our
first class dry gooi.ls establishments, situated on M'ashing-
ton Street, by three excellent views, drawn by our artist,
Mr. Mallory. It is the outside and inside of the fine store
of Messrs. ilill, Lincoln & Geer.
A spirited picture, by our artist, Mr Wa/le^ representing
the Burnins of the fine Boston clipper ship, Robert Center,
lately, in New York harbor. The entire ship and cargo
were destroyed.
A fine battle scene, rcpre.ienting an incident in the Siege
of Rome by the French troops, under Gen. Oudinot, enti-
tled the Capture of the Battery of Bastion No. 8, at Kome.
A very fine series of views relating to Portage Falls and
vicinity, in the State of New York. Drawn for us by H.
W. Parker. First, a view of Oswego, N. Y., a very admir-
able and lifelike picture, drawn on the spot. Second, an
excellent view of the New lliiilroad Bridge, at Portiige,
Genesee River, N. Y. " The first and last look at this
Bridge mu.'it be one of dumb amazement," says the artist.
A fine view of Portage Falls, giving a most lifelike" idea of
this great natunil curiosity. Also a faithful and beautiful
view of N. P. Willis-s late country seat, Glen Mary, and
the Bridge, from under which the letters were written.
A fine portrait will be given of Madame Sontig, the cel-
ebrated vocalist, just on the eve of arrival in this country.
An artist destined to create a great furore in the musical
world.
We shall give an accurate view of the famous Victoria
and Albert Bridge, running from the village of Datchet
across the Thames, where it skirts the Park, at Windsor.
Ttiis bridge, curiously enough, is built on one side of wood
and the other of iron.
A view of the Monument erected to the memory of Capt.
Sheldon Thompson, at Buffalo, N. Y. Drawn for us by
the sculptor of the same. Mr. Slep/ietisoii.
A picture of the great Duck Creek Methodist Episcopal
Church Camp Meeting, which lately took place near Cin-
cinnati, representing the congregation at service. Drawn
for us by J. F. Harris.
GENERAL FLORES.
This noted South American soldier, who hns
lately been creating so much excitement with
the general government of Ecuador, has been
particularly unsuccessful; his volunteer army
has deserted him, his officers have gone over lo
the opposite party, and the general himself lias
been obliged to flee, no one knows whither.
We give in the present number a very timely
pic Jie of his country residence at Elvira, and a
series of pictures relating to the same interesting
and carious country.
SPLINTERS.
The first and greatest of all frauds is to
cheat ourselves.
.... It is not generally known, but steam from
the boiler of a steamboat will extinguish fires.
.... There will be two eclipses of the sun and
one of the moon during the year 1853.
.... The government of the U. S. own two-
thirds of the entire area of the country.
.... It is queer, but opium eaters are said to
be proverbially thieves.
There has been a " black rain " falling in
Ivilkenny, Ireland. Sooty and inky.
A pedler in flowers in the streets of New
York, has amassed $9000. Lucky.
.... It costs 200 guineas for a monumental
site in Westminster Abbey.
The hay crop is almost a failure in the
State of Connecticut.
The loss of Mr. Downing in the Henry
Clay, is an irreparable loss to agriculturists.
The theatrical season is about to open
with great brilliancy in this country.
PROSPERITY OF TIIE CITY.
We doubt if the prospect of Boston, as it re-
gards business, was ever any more encouraging
than at the present time. We are informed by
merchants that heavy southern and western con-
tracts for goods have been made for the . fall
trade, and cash operations are executed on a
much larger scale than has been the case for
some years back. This is, of course, very agree-
able news, not only for business men, but for
the community generally, since it has an indirect
influence upon all classes of citizens.
It is agreeable to see all trades prosper, and
every one full of business, and satisfied with their
profits. It is very pleasant to know that good
old Boston is on the top wave of success, and
that the extreme measures adopted by the State
legislature has not succeeded in materially aftcct-
ing her business prospects. Is is gratifying to
observe the steady growth of the city in extent,
wealth, business relations and general prosperity,
and to observe that we are fully up with our sis-
ter cities of the east and west.
An indisputable evidence of growing resources
is that of the hirge increase in building operations
upon all vacant lands. At this writing, there is
a vast amount of building going on in Boston
and its immediate vicinity ; so much so, that the
prices of lumber have considerably advanced this
season, and high prices are realized by dealers
upon the wharves at wholesale rates. Large
cargoes are constantly arriving, too, from the
eastward, and find ready sales, at the advanced
prices at which the article is held.
In common with others, we rejoice at this ; it
argues well for everybody. Our own business
has never been on a more prosperous footing.
Never has our list of subscribers numbered so
many, and never has the demand for the Picto-
rial and Flag been so steady and extensive.
This, of course, makes us feel at peace with all
human nature; and if the reader discovers such
a spirit in the columns of the paper, he must not
be surprised.
Gleason's Pictorial. — A few days since we received from
the publisher of the " Pictorial,"' all the numbers from the
commencement of the volume, showing that tbe gentle-
man ia not slow in favoring the press with the perusal of
his beautiful work. We have paid them due attention in
our leisure moments ; and we have concluded that the
price of four dollars per annum would not deter us from
their weekly visits. One feature iu this work, which is
decidedly ahead of auytbing ever published in the United
States, ia tliat the engravings are the best specimens that
the ingenuity of the engraver's art can produce, and so
various every week, that it is impossible for a person to
receive a .'tingle number without at once retiectiug what a
beautiful oruament it would make when bound. It is
truly one of the best parlor ornaments that a lady can dis-
play on her lentre table; and if any youug gentleman
should wish to give a present that would be valuable, he
should not fail to procure a volume, at least, of tbe " Draw-
ing-Koom Companion." The choice matter contained in
this work is bejoud all price. The tales are of a character
widely dilferiiig from the current literatiu'e of the day ;
they are chaste — they are interestiug — they are what every
one wishes to read; and they need Out to peruse the Pic-
torial's contents to become its friends. Ihe paper upon
which Gleason'a Pictorial is published is of the most beau-
tiful finish ever used iu printiug, and the beautiful clear
impression given is ouly to be found in the City of Boston.
In sincerity we liope to see the number of its issues weekly
at least half a uiiilion. Those wishing to subscribe can
address F. Uleasou, Ksq., Boston, enclosing i^, and they
will receive two volmues of the best work ever in their
possession. — Gazetlt, Port Byron^ N Y.
Significant. — A contested will-ease is now
undergoing trial at Morristown, N. J. Silas
Horton, Esq., of Chester, by his will devised the
^bulk of his property, about 330,000, to his wife
Estlicr, who, by her will, left It in a manner
which displeases her husband's relatives. The
Jerseyman says, that the trial will probably con-
tinue till the lawyers become heirs to a good
portion of the estate.
A Rumor. — Report says that a young lady of
this city, of extraordinary accomplishment, and
an heiress, is about to make her appearance on
the stage, having become deeply enamored of the
profession.
Drurt Lane Tiie.^^tre. — The proprietors,
at their last meeting, found that the receipts
amounted to only £3492, and the disbursements
to nearly the same sum, leaving £54 in favor of
the establishment. The house is to let.
Travellers. — For a few weeks past Boston
has lieen crowded with strangers. The extraor-
dinary degree of good health which prevails here,
seems to attract people from the South and West.
. < ^att I
Cheap. — The Flag and Pictorial are sent to
one address for $5 per annum, together forming
a rich collection of reading matter and fine origi-
nal illustrations.
NEWSPAPER POSTAGE LAW.
We are exceedingly gratified to be able to an-
nounce to the readers and subscribers of our
paper the following piece of post-office intelli-
gence, which is of much importance to them,
greatly reducing, as it does, the rates of news-
paper postage. It seems that an amendment to
the postage law has just been passed by the Sen-
ate, as reported by Mr. Rusk. It provides that
newspapers, periodicals, and all printed matter,
not exceeding three ounces, shall be sent to any
part of the United States for one cent ; and when
the postage is paid quarterly or regularly in ad-
vance, where the same is mailed or delivered,
one half of said rates only shall be charged.
Newspapers not weighing over one ounce and a
half, when circulated in the State where publish-
ed, shall be charged one half of the rates before
named, provided that small newspapers, publish-
ed monthly, when sent in packages to one ad-
dress, prepaid, by affixing stamps thereto, shall
be chargeable for half a cent each ounce ; — post-
age on all transient matter shall be paid or
charged double the foregoing rates, and that all
books, bound or unbound, not weighing over
four pounds, shall be deemed mailable matter,
and charged with postage at one cent an ounce
for all distances under 3000 miles, and two cents
an ounce for all distances over 3000 miles, to
which 50 per cent, shall be added in all cases
where the same may be sent without being
prepaid,
THE HEART'S SECRET:
— OR—
THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
A Story of Love and the Low Latitudes.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
We have never published a more popular story
than the one thus entitled, and which has just
been completed in the Pictorial. Orders have
poured in upon us for the story even before it
has been published in book form. It is now
completed in our best style, and published in a
convenient form for preservation, or to send to a
distance. To those who have followed tlie ex-
ceedingly intei'esting and exciting plot, we need
say nothing of the attractiveness of " The Heart's
Secret;" but to those who have not perused it,
our word for it, you have a treat in store. It is
for sale at all of the periodical depots.
Deceased. — That famous beau and artist.
Count D'Orsay, is no more.
BACK NUMBERS.
To numerous inquiries as to whether we can
supply the back numbers of tlie Pictorial, we
would say that we can do so from the very begin-
ning of the paper, as we reprint each number as
fast as the edition we have on hand is exhausted.
Any person desiring the two bound volumes al-
ready completed, can receive them at once by
sending an order to this ofiice, or any of the
periodical stores ; or any single numbers can be
supplied, to complete sets, or supply injured
numbers.
Turkey. — The work which we announce on
Turkey, by Dr. J. V. C. Smith, to be commenced
in our next number, is as fresh and perfect as
such a record can well be, the doctor having but
just returned from the East, and these notes are
from his journal, kept in the very places, and
among the people he describes.
Preserve your Papers. — Those of our sub-
scribers who have had one volume of the Picto-
rial bound, do not need such a hint, for they
know what a valuable book six months' numbers
of the Pictorial makes.
Autographs. — It will be observed that we
have added a very interesting feature to our pa-
per, which is commenced in this week's number
— autographs and autography. Tlie signatures
are all taken from otngwals in this othcc.
PuRLic Lihrary. — We are pleased to know
of the continued prosperity and growth of the
Boston Public Library. Our thanks are due to
J. H. Eastbum, Esq., city printer, for a copy of
the report of the trustees.
Literary Museum. — We looked in upon
neighbor Dodge, of the Museum, at bis sanctum
in School street, the other day. Dodge loves
everybody, and is afraid of no one.
Life of Hosea Ballou. — Abel Tompkins,
38 Cornhill, Boston, has published a biography
of " Father Ballou," written by the editor of the
Pictorial.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. Charles K. Woof-
indale to Miss Elvy Pinkham.
By Kev. Dr. Pomroy, Mr. Wm. Boyd, of San Francisco,
Cal., to Wiss Helen M. Lennox, of Newcastle, Me.
By Rev. Mr. Wiltberger, Mr. W'entworth Bruce, of New-
buryport, to Mrs. Mary .Tane Thorburn.
By Itev. Dr. Young, Mr. Renaellier L, Palmer to Misa
Adeline B. P.irk.
By Rev. Dr. Beecher, Rev. C. M. Cordley, of Randolph,
to Mr?. Lydia B. Rogers, of Hopkinton, N. 11.
By Rev. Dr. Gannett, Benjamin F. Brooks, Esq., to Mis3
Charlotte F. Buck, of Cambridf;e.
At West Roxbury, by Rev. Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Thomaa
W. Deland, of Boston, to Miss Nancy E. Uersey.
At Salem, hy Hon. Charles \V. Upham, Mr. Joseph Up-
ton to Miss Sarah Browne Safford.
At Bridgewatcr, by Rev. Mr. Tappan, Mr. Josiah Meado,
of Rutland, to iliss Martha C. Bassett, of Roxbury.
At Rowley, by Rev. Mr. Medbery, Mr. Sam'l Morgridge,
of Ipswich, to Miss Loui.ia G. Millet, of Ncwburyport.
At uNewburyport, by Eleazer Johnson, Esq., Mr. William
R. Stockman to Miss Ehr^beth Cavender.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Eldredge, Mr. Edward D.
Evans to Miss Sarah F. Perley.
At Portland, Me., Mr. Albus R. Stetson to Miss Frances
M. (Jlapp, of Boston.
At Kcnnebunk, Me., by Rev. Mr. Cressey, of Buxton,
Capt. Claudius E. Williams to Miss Olive E. Wise.
At Brattleboro', Vt., Mr. Cornelius A. Wainwright, of
Middlebury, Vt., to Miss Maria L. Hayward.
At Baltimore, by Rev. Dr. Plumer, Elbridge Lawton,
Esq., U. S. N., of Boston, to Miss Matilda E. Durham.
In this city, Mrs, Elizjibeth Phelps, 78 ; Francis T., son
of Mrs. Eliza Standin, 17 ; Miss Harriet Skinner, 24 ; Mra.
Anna Kingsbury, G3; Mrs. Susan Lacey, 27!; Mrs. Eliza-
beth E. Turner, 22 ; Mi.«s Sarah Green, 66; Mra. Sally A.
Holt, 53; Mrs. Cai-oiine Hinkel, 38 ; Mr. Eleazer Wilder,
Jr., 45; Mrs. N. C. Merrill, 25 ; Mr. Cha's Badger, 46.
At Chariestown, Mr. Henry Hovey, 75.
At Chelsea, Mr. George F. Tibbetts, 24.
At Dorchester, Elizabeth Gardner, 84.
At Maiden, Mrs. Mary Bates, of Boston, 80.
At Walthani, Mr. Lowell Adams, 56.
At La^vrence, Dr. John L. Allen, of New Haven, Ct., 29.
At Hiiigham, Mrs. AbigJiil S. Lewis, 51.
At Ware, Capt. C. F. Mann, 63.
At Salem, Mra. Nancy Andrews, 71.
At Ipswich, Capt. Jacob Manning, 70.
At Newburyport, Capt. Jacob Noyes, 87.
At Plymouth, Mrs. Hannah L. Barnes, 48.
At New Bedford. Mrs. Lydia Winslow, 54,
At Northboro, Ann D., wife of Mr. James E. Allen.
At Eai^t Falmouth, Rev. 0. G. Hubbard. 45.
At Fiskdale, Mr. Henry E. Williams, late of Boston, 38.
At Dover, N. H., A. L. Sydney, Esq.
At Na-shua, N. H., Mra. Mary A. Hamlet, of Boston, 26.
At Damariscotta, Me.. Capt. David Farnham, 46.
At Hampden, Me., Hezekiah Rowlev, Esq., 71.
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Capt. G. Metca'lf, of Portland, Me.
At Groveland, N. Y., Mrs. Nancy L. Worthington.
At Clayton, N. Y., Mnjor Joy, 94.
At PJiiladelphia, Itenj.imin Matthias, E.-iq.
At Mobile, Ala., Mr. Thomaa Rogers, 52.
— AND —
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL
tlrrtunitij^Uooiit ^Hom^rtinotr*
A Hecord of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
cvMits of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poeni.i, by tbo
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
■with numerous accurate engraringa, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manner.'*, altogether making a paper en-
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contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note iu the eastern or western hemi-
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and merchant service, with fine and accui-ato portraits of
every noted character ia the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also bo
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
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printed on fine satin-surfaco paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen.
of art. It contains fifteen hundred aud Fixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
ilhistrationa^a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
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The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with tbo
fund of aiciusemcnt it allords, and tlio rich army of origi-
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highest tone of momlity, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that \i evil in its tendency. In short, the object ia to
make tbe paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
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OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
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the fr.-t of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
CC7" One copy of the Flag op our XJxion, and one copy
of the Pictorial Dkawiku-Room Compakion, one year,
for S5 00.
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obtained at any of the periodical deiwts througliout t;iu
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per aiuglu \o\}f
Published every S.iTuitDAV, by
F. GLEASON, EosTox, Mas3.
WHOLESALE AGENTC.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelpliia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & CO.. Ill Baltimore St., Baltimore.
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[C^ Subscriptions nceiveit at tilhcr of the. abox'f placis.
158
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Glwwtoii'fi PlKtorliil.]
THE BROKEN TIE.
BY CAROLINE A. DAVDEK.
I have given up thy frlondsliip ! 't was a Imrd and bittor thing,
But mine 'fl a niituro fur too proud to beau ncglcct'B cold sting ;
It 1b one more Iuhhoh mldod to the iminy I have learnod,
Thivt tlio linllc«t ffolinf^H of tho hwirt aro oftoneat rudctly flpurnod ;
But yet I will not blanio thee, tho fiiult wiis wholly mine,
I had fieen thcc clad iu veetmcntH which were never wholly thine ;
I saw a halo round theo, which I doomed waH truth's uloiio,
I found it but a rairago tho world had round theo thrown.
I had placed theo on a pedeatal, too high for worldly worth,
It Ima crumbled now, and left thee whoro I found thoo, on the earth.
Iliid tho tl« by death boon broken, I could havo bowed my head,
And wept such tcarn as conwcrate the memory of tho dcjid j
I could have looked behind the grave, and Bmlllng, blessed tho rod,
That, when It emote wis, bore thee up so near the throne of God.
Had misfortune- fallen upon thee,— when the worldling paHsed theo by,
I would havo proudly stood tho test, and mot hla scornful eye ;
Or hud envtj dared to whlHpcr but one word against thy name,
I would havo joyed to ctist the slander back from whence it came.
But go ! I would not wake again my memory in thy heart,
It has alumbercd down the stream of time, 0 let it now depart;
It wore not worth tho trouble, it haa lost Its charm for theo,
Its faded light could norer ghed one gleam of joy on mo.
Go, go I but yet believe me, while 1 breathe this laat farewell,
No thought of bitterness or change shall in this bosom dwell ;
Too proud to be neglected, I can yet be just to theo,
And firmly anap the tie which friendship forged for thee and me ;
In sadness, not in anger, I give thee back thy claim.
Withholding only that which stamps, on memory's page, thy name!
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE,
No ' II.
BT REV. F, W. HOLLAND.
THE JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM.
Never had any one such good fortune before. At the moment
that I was leaving quarantine, a young Frenchman — gentlemanly,
indefatigable and brave — was about to start with an old servant
of the Beiroot consulate, now tlic convoy of a blood mare to the
representative of France at Jerusalem — a tantalizing companion ;
for, while my "galled jade" seemed hardly able to bear my
weight, and actmilly fell under me once or twice, this noble crea-
ture— graceful as the gazelle and fleet as the wind — was not per-
mitted to be ridden at all. Had any idea of the hardships of
these seven days flashed before me, I could not have started with-
out provisions, fire-arms, a spirit-flask, or any protection from the
weather, with a horse that could hardly walk, and only a halter
for a bridle. But I was fresh from that delightful ramble over
Egypt; I supposed that I was on a frequented traveller's route; I
hoped much from monkish hospitality, and I had never found my
strength give way under any exposure or hardship.
Unhappily, Palestine is just the reverse of the Nile valley. In
place of timid servility, you encounter insolence and robbery.
You pass out from the efl'eminatc city-bred Arab to face the Arab
of the desert, who owns no master, lives upon his spoils, retains
his ancient hate of the stranger, and sells as dear as possible the
privilege of entering his hereditary land. In place of the easy,
nimble donkey you have the scolding, pitching, splay-footed,
clumsy-jointed, wry-necked camel, with his hypocrite humility,
his drunken eye and tiresome drag — or, pack-horses, that seem
worn out on some omnibus-stand, and exiled here to die.
Then, too, the Nile valley is well peopled; curious groups meet
one at every turn, and you are never at a loss for amusement;
while Palestine wears a deserted air — even around Jerusalem is a
solitude. From the Latin Convent to the Dead Sea we met not
a man, woman or child — hardly a four-footed thing. The three
days before reaching Damascus, over a road once crowded with
traffic, then again covered with hosts marching to battle, and for-
merly flowing with wealth like a river, almost our only company
was a flock of sheep. Instead of abundant fruit at the ridicu-
lously low-price of Egypt, and every other necessary for travel,
our whole meal one day was a single egg with some unleavened
bread made of chaff of barley, a few wretched olives, and a little
honey. Fowls were rare, wex'C held at home prices, and required
to be prepared by ourselves as well as we could ; other meat was
not generally to be heard of. Instead of the flat river banks and
broad dikes of the land of the Pharaohs, there were precipitous
mountains, quaggy plains, slippery rocks, and rivers without
bridge or ford. No one who has not passed over Judea can real-
ize the unevenness of the soil ; it is, as the negro said of the
church service, "all getting up and setting down." Not only is
Jerusalem a heap of hills hemmed in by lulls, but Sychar is on a
steep hillside, and so is Bethlehem, Betliany, Siloam and Naza-
reth; Beiroot is beneath a moimtain, and Baalbec lies between
two ranges. Roads there arc actually none, bridle-paths are not
always to be found. When it storms no one thinks of stopping
lest the streams should become too swollen to pass ; when sick, it
is generally necessary to move forward towards some one of the
few places where help can be found. And, though there are ex-
quisite sea views all the way from Beiroot to Acra, and the golden
valley of Samaria to cross, and some noble prospects from Leba-
non, Syria is generally a dreary monotony. Because of the re-
markable scarcity of trees the sun is dreadfully scorching.
Houses come only in sight at long intervals, and these are dirty,
squalid villages ; the olive groves are the ugliest that can be
imaginetl — mere ghost-like spectres ; the picturesque palm is
liurdly known, the graveyards mourn for the solemn cypress, the
deserted plains arc never relieved by arrowy poplar or graceful
dm, and the ancient forestH have disappeared forever. There U
some little compensation in tho company of the " lilien of the
field." Tho Saviour is brought at once to one's thoughts by the
flower-carpets spread all over these deserted Helds ; even amongst
Htoncs und ro(!ks, your horse's foot crusheH tho blue and purple
convolvulus, the scarlet anemone, tlie rosy cycluiinen, the white
and crimson aster, and every member of the lily tribe. Solomon
in all his glory wtis not so gay as some of these stony pastures of
Galilee.
Another Scripture reminiscence is the innumerable caves and
grottoes which sheltered David in his distress, and many a
prophet in his wandering ; which gave comfort to the demoniac,
and a burial place to the departed. These were the ancient
tombs — crdarged, of course, and decorated by tho liand of man ;
they arc now mills, stables, work-shops, or tlie homes of the poor.
The Saviour is said to have been born in one, nurtured in another,
und buried in a third. Almost every tradition lingers about some
such cavern, and I wonder that Kobinson and other travellers
have so little noticed a most impressive feature of the country.
Whole chapters of Jewish history came back to me at once, and
many of the Saviour's miracles; and, seen by the struggling
moonbeams especially, they awed us into silence, as if tlie buried
kings or the hidden prophets, the Gadarene maniac or David's
wild band would burst out as we passed.
The Scripture account of tlic millions wliich inhabited this
oneo favored land seems quite impossible, as your disappointed
gaze turns from stony pastures to perfectly barren mountains.
But look a little closer. Tiie naked hillsides near Jerusalem be-
tray, even now, the terraces which made them yield such abun-
dant harvests as we see rewarding the same laborious husbandry
along the Rhine; many a mountain like Gcrizim shows unmis-
takably that its soil has been waslied away by the long, heavy
rains to which the country is subject. The want of protection
for the harvest even while it is growing, the destitution of roads,
the system of pillage long pursued by Turkish governors, the
freebooter habits of the roaming sons of Lshmael, show how the
land that flowed with milk and honey lies blasted, withered, and
all but dead.
But, besides the actual wasting away of the fertile land during
these many centuries of misgovernmcnt, the three millions gath-
ered within this little territory can be explained by the wonderful
simplicity of living then as now. All the habits, all the tastes,
all the wants of the natives are such as require the least possible
space of earth. No hot country needs much animal food, nor
many broad acres for pasturage. A few easily-raised vegetables
ai'C enough for a Syrian's dinner; the olive furnishes his light,
the fountain his drink, the earth his couch. Two earthern jars
equip the single room which makes liis home ; his clothing knows
no change from day to night. We repeatedly slept with whole
fiimilies of the common people, and it was amusing to see how
expeditiously tlie toilet was performed. No change at all was
commonly made in the dress, either to lie down at night, or to
rise up in the morning ; so that the command of Moses to return
the poor man's garment at nightfall that he might rest comfort-
ably with his usual covering seems as pertinent now as ever. To
set up the extent of country necessary to support a population as
full of wants as our own, as the measure for the people of hardly
any wants, is delusive as well as unjust.
But the conclusive fact — and with that we leave this tedious
discussion — is the existence of an inland city with such immense
remains as Gerasa. It was discovered about forty years ago, and
is seldom visilcd, and still very little known. But the ruins have
been measured and sketched by scientific persons, until the fact
stands beyond dispute, that a mere country' town, away from the
seaside or any navigable stream, could never have sustained two
large theatres, six considerable temples, and two public baths, as
Gerasa did, if not supported by a compact population occupying
all the surrounding lands. Measuring otiier farming districts by
a place which gave a perfect index of the wealth, numbers and
culture around it, and which required one theatre capable of ac-
commodating eight thousand, and a second half as large, besides
a circus, without either manufactures or commerce, we shall not
presume to question the uniform statements of all our sacred his-
tory about the unequalled populousness of Palestine.
CAUTION TO SCHOOLMASTERS.
A few weeks ago a young man had his right hand amputated,
a short distance above the wrist, by Mr. Milner, surgeon, of Old-
field Lane, Manchester. The operation, which was performed
under the influence of chloroform, was entirely sueeessf^ul, and in
the mere fact itself offers nothing extraordinary to relate. But
the cause of it deserves mention, by way of warning to those
among that eminently useful class of the schoolmasters who, be-
lieving that the cane is an essential aid to instruction, are apt to
apply it with a vigor more proportioned to the master's temper
than the pupil's deserts. About seventeen years ago, when the
young man alluded to was a boy of about seven or eight years of
age, and just going to a boy's school, he committed some breach
of school discipline which raised the ire of the master of the es-
tablishment— tlien living in Todmorden — who, in his indignation,
told the lad to "hold out his hand," and he then struck it — the
right — violently with a ruler, after the semi-barbarous fashion of
applying the " cuts " of the cane so much in vogue at one time.
The blow "told." Tlie little fellow's hand became exceedingly
tender in one spot over the joint below the first flnger. Gradually
the pain increased till the hand could not be used. Advice was
obtained in various quarters, and endless treatment undergone,
until at length a soft bleeding cancer developed itself, and all or-
dinary remedies having failed, seventeen years of suffering were
terminated as above, and a line young man, the sole survivor of
eleven sons, thrown mutilated upon his aged parent's hands.
We may add that the same schoolmaster who wrought all the
mischief by an ill-judged blow was known to have lamed another
boy by similar violence, The master has since gone to his long
account. — Blackburn Standard.
[Written for Oleiwon'n Pictorial.]
AUTOGRAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED INDIVIDUALS.
IIY WM. KUWARIJ KNOWXE8.
With a view of indulging in a little literary gossip, and at the
same time to furnish the numerous readers of the Pictorial with a
large number of autographs, some of which have not yet ap-
peared, we have undertaken to present those which are now in
our possession. We shall not give them in any regular order,
but merely as they come to hand from our portfolio. The first,
then, which we take up is from Mr. Hosnuir,
W. H. C. HoSMEii occupies a high position among the literati
of America. He has written much, and, unlike many others, he
has written it well. One cannot but be reminded of Shelley and
Byron in reading his poems ; still there is notliing like imitation,
though doubtless many of his productions were written under tho
inspiration of the abovenamed authors. " Yonnondio," Mr. H.'s
longest poem, has justly been very popular, both on this and the
other side of the Atlantic, Also his beautiful lines on Keats will
long be remembered by all lovers of good poetry. He has long
been a regular contributor to the magazines and periodicals of the
day. His autograph in general is free and easy, but when hurried
by the duties of his profession, it is scarcely legible. His reputa-
tion as a lawyer is as high as his literary merit.
UAA^Ayy""^-^
H. Ladd Spencer is a native of Vermont, and has written
some fine things in the way of poetry. " The Homestead," and
" The Farewell," are perfect gems. His handwriting resembles
that of Longfellow, though less suggestive of ideality. In this
peculiar sphere Longfellow has no equal.
/ /
Mrs. Sigourney holds a high rank among our female poets.
Her praises have been sung from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and
from Maine to Mexico. Her autograph is a good one, and legi-
ble in tho extreme. Indeed the signature fails to give the print-
like appearance of the manuscript. There are but few American
hearts hut beat in unison with that of the gifted authoress.
/
Rev. Francis C. WooDwoitTH has long and favorably been
known as the editor of the " Youth's Cabinet," a monthly juvenile
magazine of standard worth. He is also quite a poet, and has
written many beautiful songs. He has done better things in prose
than in verse; and his " Stories about Birds," " Uncle Frank's
Home Stories," and " Theodore Thinker's Tales," have been
widely popular. There is a freshness about all that emanates
from his pen that cannot but captivate the dullest reader. He is
now absent on a tour to Europe. His autograph is rolling, but
not illegible. In it is seen the genius of the man, tho scholar
and the sage.
The manuscript of Edward Everett is a good one. There
is an air of marked precision about it, which places it above the
common level of mere letters and characters. It is very legible,
and at the same time very uniform. He possesses tho sterling
worth of the scholar, and has undoubtedly attained the summit of
his literary fame.
Jared Sparks has written many valuable volumes, which
have had due appreciation by the American public. His hand-
writing is odd in the extreme. The letters are large, black and
heavily written. Indeed, it is hard to discern in it any peculiar
traits of character. The paper generally used is beautiful and
glossy.
Thos. H. Stockton, or, in other words, llec. Thos. H. Stock-
ton, is a beautiful poet. We have the honor of an intimate ac-
quaintance with Iiim, He has been in many walks of life, and
always conducted himself in a manner worthy a disciple of Christ.
Of late he has been connected with the " Christian World." His
manuscript is distinguished by great freedom and grace. Tho
signature aflords a pretty good idea of his general chirograpliy.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
159
CURIOUS FRAUD.
A man in London lias been carrying on a
singular business. Having procured access to
various distinguished persons, he represented
himself as a publisher about to issue a work to
be entitled, "The Gallery of Distinguished Con-
servatives," or " The Gallery of Distinguished
Liberals," according to the politics of the indivi-
dual -whom he chanced to be addressing. His
" object in calling was to solicit the honor of
borrowing your lordship's portrait, in order to
cause a copy to be engraved for his truly- nation-
al work." Who could resist so flattering a pro-
posal ? He seems to have succeeded in obtaining
nearly forty valuable portraits, the pawn-ticlcets
for which were found in his apartment, after his
arrest.
BEAUTirUL INCIDENT,
Over the pulpit, in the chapel at West Point,
as some of our readers may, perhaps, have re-
marked, stands a fine allegorical picture from
the true-to-life pencil of Weir. A part of it re-
presents Peace, as a female figure, holding an
olive branch in her hand. During the perform-
ance of divine service, one Sabbath-day, a small
bird flew into the church, and made several at-
tempts to alight on the branch. A better criti-
cism upon the fidelity of the artist's representa-
tion of air and foliage could scarce be imagined.
The same compliment was paid by a bird to
Apelles, some three thousand j'ears ago.
RERELLION IN CHINA.
Late advices from China, by way of California,
speak of the continuance of disturbances in the
flowery nation. The insurgents are evidently
getting the best of the contest, and the Imperial
troops were constantly deserting to them, and
swelling the list of the opposing armies. Towns
are entered and plundered, and houses set on
fire. The defection of the Imperialists is spoken
of in the Hong Kong Friend of China as having
caused great alarm in Canton ; and a rumor pre-
vails that both English and American Ministers
have been applied to about rendering assistance,
should occasion require it.
SPIDER'S THREAD.
Austrian papers state that a merchant of
Vienna has lately presented to the Industrial
Union of that capital the details of a series of
experiments made by him to manufacture spider's
thread into woven tissues. The thread is wound
on a reel, and two dozen spiders produce in six
minutes a beautiful and delicate thread, two
thousand feet in length. The stuff's manufactur-
ed from it are spoken of as being far superior in
beauty and delicacy of fabric to those of silk.
Personal. — Mr. Nathaniel G. Greene, son of
Charles G. Greene, editor of the Boston Post,
has taken a vacation from his duty, as connected
with the reporter's department of his father's
popular and able journal, and has gone on a
journey to California, China, and home through
Europe. Mr. Greene is a young man of some
twenty-six years of age, and possesses a well-
trained and richly cultivated mind. God speed
him on his winding way.
Kathek Significant. — The new five franc
pieces — says a letter from Paris — having the
effigy of the President, have almost all of them
been cut across the throat as soon as issued. A
pleasant hint this to Louis Napoleon of the aft'ec-
tion of the citizens and of his possible end.
Silly. — A controversy is going on between
the Catholic journals as to whether tallow can-
dles may be used instead of wax, in the church
ritual.
In New York. — Repeated instances have oc-
curred recently of children being stolen from
their parents to be used in begging, for the pur-
pose of exciting sympathy.
Vert proper. — The owners and officers of
the steamer Henry Clay have been arrested, and
required to give bail in the sum of §10,000 each.
Good News. — The wheat crop of the West is
said to exceed in quantity, and excel in quality,
the crops of former years.
A good Sign. — We observe that public
schools are multiplying in San Francisco.
Found. — A boot that will fit Horn's last.
lUawsiire ©atljerings.
Scarlet fever prevails in Pittsburgh.
Quebec is an Indian word, signifying a river
strait.
South Carolina has a field pea, which is said
to mature three crops in the season
Flores is said to be on his way to the United
States, utterly disgusted with fillibustering.
A recent fire in Pittsburgh consumed twenty-
five houses.
Upwards of S5000 have been collected in Bos-
ton for the Montreal sufferers.
The New York city gas bill for July, for light-
ing the streets, is §883 75.
During July, 2031 persons were committed to
the New York city prison.
An omnibus was set on fire by a camphene
lamp, in this city, lately.
Lieut. Charles Hunter, of Alvarado renown,
has been restored to the navy.
It is said there are one hundred clothing stores
on Long wliarf, San Francisco.
The total length of the Mississippi River, with
its tributaries, is 51,000 miles.
We observe by the Baltimore Clipper, that in-
cendiarism is rife in that city.
Some fifteen hundred citizens of Milwaukie
have signed a letter to the mayor, asking him to
put a stop to the Sunday evening balls.
Garret Benson was fined S60 at Flushing,
Long Island, for shooting six woodcocks on the
4th of July last, in violation of law.
The steamboat Timour was sunk a few days
ago on the Missouri River — loss, 22,000 ; insur-
ance, 815,000.
The different railroad companies at Indianap-
olis are building a union passenger depot, 400
feet long by 98 feet wide.
Jos. Wallingford, aged 80 years, was thrown
from his horse, lately, near Mt. Gilead, Ky.,
and killed.
Another lot of liquor has been turned into the
Providence River — the eleventh dose. Wonder
what the fish think of it ^
Thomas Shannon has been convicted in Har-
rison county, Ky., of the murder of John De-
vine, and was sentenced to be hung on the 2Slh.
The amount of guano imported into Great
Britain amounts to ten millions of dollars annu-
ally.
A woman was murdered in New Haven, late-
ly, by her husband, while he was laboring under
an attack of delirium tremens.
A House of Correction is about to be built at
Plymouth, at a cost of S12,000. It will be com-
menced the first of December.
A young girl in New Orleans was recently
fined five dollars for kissing a man ! She sen-es
at a coffee stand in the vegetable market.
It is estimated that during the last three years
30,000 fugitive slaves have obtained protection
in Canada.
Mary, a daughter of U. S. Senator Gwin, of
California, was buried on Tuesda}', at Washing-
ton.
Mr. Fleming was recently man-icd to Miss
Chippendale, daughter of Mr. Chippendale, the
actor.
Francis Cleveland, of Burlington, Ct., com-
mitted suicide on Monday, August 2d, by shoot-
ing himself.
The theatre at Quebec, Canada, under the
management of Mr. Nickerson, is doing a fine
business.
Gold bearing quartz and native copper have
been discovered below the surface at the Hol-
land Colony, in Western Michigan.
In the Ohio penitentiary there are now con-
fined five hundred and eight persons. This will
do well for the third State iu the Union.
A man in Albany ate nearly a whole cabbage
one day, and, of course, was treated by cholera
the next, just escaping with his life.
A park, embracing 250 acres, on the Metairie
Ridge, is proposed at New Orleans. The entire
cost of the ground is estimated at only SI 1,000.
The line of telegraphic wires between Halifax
and Quebec is now in complete running order.
It crosses the St. Lawrence at Caprouza, a few
miles above Quebec.
The new cathedral at Louisville, it is said,
will rival in magnificence the finest church edi-
fice in the country. Its cost of erection will be
about $100,000.
Mrs. M. Jones, who is engaged at the Howard
for ihe next season, is at present at Washington,
attending the death-bed of her mother, whose
feeble condition aff'ords no hope of recovery.
Mr. David Gordon, a soldier of the Revolu-
tion, aged 93 years, died at Rockaway, lately.
He sei-ved his country faithfully two years, in
the most trying period of the Revolution.
The greatest pleasure connected with wealth
consists in acquiring it. Two months after a
man comes into a fortune, he feels just as prosy
and fretful as he did when he worked for "four-
and-six" a day."
At the tournament which took place at Orkney
Springs, in Shenandoah county, Va., a few days
since, Mi-. George B. Swift {late of Richmond),
as the " Knight of Richard Ca'ur de Lion," was
victorious. Miss Emily Moffit, of New Market,
Shenandoah county, was crowned Queen of
Love and Beauty.
foreign illisaUanj3.
The cholera is raging in Russia, at the mouths
of the Vistula.
Madame Castellan is engaged for the Italian
opera, London.
Capt. Back, the navigator, is now ranked
among the fashionables of London.
Mr. and Mrs. Abbott La-wrence have gone
from London to Paris for a short time.
Md'lle Favanti has re-appeared w^ith great
success in the musical world.
Worked pocket handkerchiefs are deemed un-
suitable for gentlemen in England.
The Prince de Joinville and his three brothers
have been making a tour in Scotland.
The deficit in the Austrian national finances
for 1851 is 55,168,432 florins.
The Frankfort Diet has voted £3500 to the
inventors of gun cotton.
The British army in Ireland, at present, con-
sists of 21,500 men.
Louis Napoleon had returned to Paris. His
reception is said to have been extremely cor-
dial.
It is stated that the dogs in France annually
consume food to the value of flfty-five millions
of francs — about eleven millions of dollars.
The American equestrian, McCoUum, is gath-
ering new laurels at the Cirque Oriental, iu
London.
It proves to be more difficult for the English
authorities to keep order among the miners of
Australia than it did ours in Califoraia.
The police reports of London show a con-
stant increase of drunkards ever since the year
1844, equalling in the aggregate, about fifty per
cent.
The recent hot weather in London increased
the number of deaths about ten per cent. For
every nine degrees of increased temperature, a
hundred persons more than usual have died.
M. Goudet, keeper of the archives of Tou-
louse, has written to the Assemhke Nationale to
state that the root of the plant kno^^Ti in France
as the Iris Germanique is an infallible cure for
hydrophobia.
Herbert Spencer, in his Social Statistics, men-
tions it as a fact significant of the times, and
prophetic of the future, that Englishmen begin
to listen to the national anthem, " God save the
queen," without taking oif their hats ! Ten
years ago, whenever and wherever that song was
sung in England, the entire company would
rise, and remain standing and uncovered till the
last note died away.
lokcr's JSiiigct.
0aui)0 of ®olir.
.... A woman sometimes scorns what best
contents her.
Small cheer and great welcome makes a
merry feast.
Our compelled sins stand more for num-
ber than account.
.... Notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
than priests and fanes that lie.
.... It oft falls out, to have what we'd have,
we speak not what we mean.
.... Let us not burden our remembrances
with a heaviness that's gone.
.... By medicine life may be prolonged, yet
death will seize the doctor too.
.... Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, for
things that are not to be remedied.
.... Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind ;
the thief doth fear each bush an officer.
.... Brevity is the soul of wit, and tcdious-
ness the limbs and outward flourishes.
.... No visor doth become black villany so
well as soft and tender flattery.
.... A plague of opinion ! a man may wear
it ou both sides, like a leather jerkin !
.... A man may see how this world goes
with no eyes ; look with thme ears.
.... If our virtues did not go forth of us,
'twere all alike as if we had them not.
.... Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
.... Happy are they that hear their own de-
tractions, and can put ihem to mending.
A cloud upon the soul shrouds and dark-
ens the earth more than a cloud in the firma-
ment. The spectacle is in the spectator.
.... How many fine hats serve as a cover for
worthless heads, and how many plaited shirt-
bosoms cover a hollow cavern where a heart
should be lodged.
.... It is right to call our life a stage ; for,
what are our joys and sorrows to the spiritual
world, who are the spectators, but mimic trage-
dies and farces 1
A wedded couple should always study
each others' dispositions, and mutually make ail
the allowance possible for the weak" points in
their respective characters.
.... Happiness and soitow are the measures
of our mortal life. We willingly record the mo-
ments of gladness, and sorrow's hours make
their own impress.
.... Youth is fed by poetry and imagination ;
mature age by realities ; as plants draw all their
nonrishment from the air until they bear fruit,
and afterwards, from the ground only.
"You, Sal, what's o'clock? and where's the
chicken pie ?" " It's eight, sir."
Wlien does a judge contemplate employing
rogues ? When he takes them on ti'ial.
As a proof of the hardness of the times, there
is a man in Ohio who kills only a half a pig at a
time.
When a Tennessee girl is kissed, she ex-
claims : " Now put that right back where you
took it from !"
Mrs. Speckles says the best vegetable pill yet
invented is an apple dumpling ; for destroying a
gnawing in the stomach, it is a pill which may
always be relied on.
A man having been arraigned before one of
our justices on a charge of being tight, was ac-
quitted without examination, as he was recog-
nized as one whose habits were exceedingly ?oose.
" Father, it tells here about illuminated manu-
scripts— what were they lighted with V — " With
the light of other days, sonny," answered the
father.
A friend of ours said he would always have
remained single, but he couldn't atford it. What
it cost him for " gals and ice cream," was more
than he now pays to bring up a wife and eight
children. Bachelors should think of this.
The French feed hens with bread soaked in
wine to make them lay. Soaking bread and
eggs in wine in this country, often makes " old
cocks " lay in the gutter. We don't know how
it would affect hens.
" Billy Jones," said a bullying urchin to an-
other lad, ''next time I catch you alone, I'll
flog you like anything." " Well," replied Bill,
*' I aint often much alone ; I commonly have my
legs and my fists with me."
A countryman upon visiting New York dur-
ing the cholera, asked what that board was put
across the street for ; upon being told that it was
to keep the disease from spreading, exclaimed :
" Well, I swow, I've often heard tell of the
Board of Health, but never saw it before in all
my life."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Fagea,
AND CONTAINING NEARLT
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all part5 of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
"beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News llecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UMON,
AX ELEGANT, MORAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite hterature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POK THE MILLION,
AND A WELCO>IE "VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading loeekly paper in tke United States^ and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the forei,gn and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are aitmitted
to the paper, thus offenng the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, Tva can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SUBSCEIBESS.
1 subscriber, one year, 32 00
3 subscribera, '■'■ 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 » " 11 00
16 " * 20 00
One copy of the Flag op ock Union, and one copy of the
tiCTOBiAL DaAWiN«-KooM COMPANION. One year, for So 00.
[HT^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
Qy=- All orders should be addressed, post paid, to tke
Pdblisher of the Flag op our Union.
*»* ITie Flag can be obtained at any of tke newspaper
depots in the United States, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUR CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON.
Publisher and Proprietor, Boston, Mass.
160
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DllAWING llOOM CJOMrANION.
SARATOGA LAKE.
Wc pivc licrcwitli n ])ieturc rrprcnontiiiK tlio famous
Saratoga Lake, sitimtrd nrar the ci'lcl.mtt'd watering place.
It is by our artist, Mr. ('luipin, and would have been given
•with the hist week's series of Saratoga views, but was
crowded out. It represents n view of Saratoga Lake, sit-
uated about four niilcH distant fi'om the Springs. It is a
beautiful sheet of pure water, nine miles in extent from
north to south, and from one to three in width. The
scenery around it is diversilied and highly pieluresf]iie,
while the hike abounds in Hsh, and its borders with abun-
dance of small game, affording to tlie tiimrtsman and epi-
cure a never failing source of amusement and gratilkation.
It is also the resort of visitors at the Springs, wlio ilrivc
out for exercise, being the only notable spot near the vil-
lage of Saratoga. Boats, fishing tackle and sporting im-
plements of all kind« arc here to be had for a trifle, and
much sport may be enjoyed.
.^-,^ist^^..
CAPE COD ASSOCIATION.
It is generally known to the readers of the Pictorial that
the sons of Cape Cod in Boston and vicinity have foinicd
lliemsclves into an asfocintion for the annual celebration
of matters as connected with the place of their birth.
Their niimtyer is very large, and cmiiraces some of our
most notable and influential men. The first anniversary
of the association was held in Assembly Hall, in Boston,
on the evening of the Ilth of November, 1851, on which
occasion an eloquent oration was pronounced by Henry
A. Scudder. A substantial repast was provided ; after
which, Henry A. Crocker, Esq., as toast master, was in-
ti'oduced, and spcctbcrf and toasts were the order of the
evening. It was a highly successful, interesting and pro-
fitable jubilee. Its success encouraged the idea of a simi-
lar annual gathering, but the liome of their fathers was deemed
the most appropriate place for the festival. Accordingly Vrov-
incctown was selected as tlie locale of the anniversary this year.
It is the first town on the cape from the sea, is of equal import-
ance to anyotiier for its commercial growth, and is, moreover, ihe
spot where the Mayflower first anchored on November 11,1620.
To give greater eclat to the celebration at Provincetown, tiie
committee of arrangements engaged the new and splendid pavil-
ion of John Wright, the celebrated caterer. The steamer Eastern
City was engaged for the occasion. The New England Guards,
accompanied by the Boston Brigade Band, performed escort duty
by invitation. The picture which our artist sketched for us on
the spot, of the interior of the mammoth tent, makes a striking
scene. The pavilion was pitched on an eligible spot in the north-
western section of the town, although one was obliged to plod
through heaps of sand, before reaching it. It is a large and
beautiful tent, one of the handsomest ever pitched, and is capable
of aecommodoting 3500. On the present occasion it was set for
the accommodation of 2000, that being the number of plsitcs laid.
Hundreds of ladies and gentlemen visited it to view and admire
the admirable arrangements of the tables and the neat and sub-
stantial appearance they presented. The steamer Eiistem City
arrived at the Central wharf in Provincetown, with the party,
for the cordial and sincere welcome which had been ex-
tended to them. After these cereinr)nies, the procession
was formed, the New England Cuards, with the Brigade
Band, acting as escort, marched through the whole length
of the town, countermarching to the pavilion. The pro-
cession was (juite lengthy, and we were jdeased to see em-
braced all the ficliool cliildren of the town. The number
of spectators was very large, for, in addition to Ihe numbers
brought from cwcry quarter by packets, ynchts and boats,
the steamer Naushon brought a large number from Bain-
stablc, and the Granite State nhout four hundred from
Bo-ton. The procession entered the pavilion at .'J 1-2
o'clock, where the Cape Cod Association, with invited
guests, sat down to a liberal and sumptucMis repast. A
most convivial and happy occasion it proved. Toastfi,
speeches, song and ricntinicnt intcrsijersed the^^eeremonies,
and the whole passed off with distinguished success.
VIEW OF SARATOGA LAKE.
promptly. They were met upon the wharf by the selectmen of
ihe town, the firemen in a neat uniform, and the members of the
Odd Fellows Lodge, in full regalia. Godfrey Ryder, Jr., Esip,
oftieiated as chief marshal. He introduced the selectmen ond
speaker of the day to the chief marshal of the Cape Cod Associa-
tion, Jno. L. Dimmick, Esq., who in turn introduced the gentle-
men to Hon. Lemuel Shaw, the president. James Gifford, Esq.,
in behalf of the citizens of Provincetown, welcomed the associa-
tion in a speech of exceeding beauty, brief, but to the jjoint. He
reminded the members of the ancient glory of their fathers ; of
their toil and sufferings, of their virtues, of their immortality;
and he implored them never to forget with what a price their
prosperity, happiness and liberties had been purchased. To this
address, Chief Justice Shaw, in behalf of the association, respon-
ded in an eloquent and feeling manner. We come, he said, like
children of a large household, who have wandered from the old
roof tree, actuated, by a desire to elevate ourselves by the pursuits
of industry, but come like children, who, wherever they have
wandered, have never, for a moment, forgotten the land of their
birth. We return with joy to the parental household, to cultivate
and strengthen those tics which belong to a common brotherhood.
Once more, in behalf of the association, the goodly com])any
which he represented, he tlianked the citizens of Provincetown
HORSE3IAN8HIP IIV CIIILJ.
Darwin, in his " Researches in South America," gives
the following account of the method of ma.'iiering and
training the horse in Chili. The power of man over tlie
horse, and the facility with which he is taught the most
surprising and wonderful feats of skill, is truly astonish-
ing. The Guaclios are well known to be peit'cct riders.
'" Tlie idea of being thrown, let the horse do what it likes,
never enters their lieads. Their criterion of a good rider
is a man who can manage an untamed colt, or who, if his
horse fall, alights on his own feet, or can perform otlier
such exploits. I have heard of a man betting that he
would throw his horse down twenty times, and that nine-
teen times he would not fall himself. I recollect seeing a
Guacho riding a very stubborn horse, which three times
sueeessively reared so high as to fall backwards with great
violence. The man judged with uncommon coolness the proper
moment for slipping off— not an instant before or after the right
tirae ; and as soon as the horse got up the man jumped on hia
back, and at last they started in a galloji. The Guacho never ap-
pears to exert any muscular force. 1 was one day watching a
good rider, as we were galloping along at a rai>id pace, and
thought to myself: " Surely, if the horse start, you appear co
careless on your seat, you must fall." At this moment a male
ostrich sprang from its nest beneath the horse's nose ; the young
colt bounded on one side like a stag; but as for the man, all that
could be said was, that he started and took fright with his horse.
In Chili and Peru more pains are taken with the mouth of the
horse than in La Plata, and this is evidently a consequence of the
more intricate nature of the country. In Chili, a horse is not con-
sidered perfectly broken till he can be brought up standing, in
the midst of his full speed on any particular spot — for instance, on
a cloak thrown on the ground. 1 have seen an animal bounding
with sjjirit, yet merely reined by a forefinger and thumb, taken at
full gallop across a court yard, and then made to wheel round the
post of a veranda with great speed, but at so equal a distance that
the rider, with outstretched arm, all the while kept one finger rub-
bing the post. Then making a demi volte in the air, with the other
arm outstretched^ he wheeled round in an opposite direction.
CELEBRATION OF THE CAPE COD ASSOCIATION, AT PROVINCETOWN.
F. GLBASON,
( CORNER BROMFIELD
i AND TKEMONI STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1852.
S2 PER TOLUJIE. 1
10 Cts. SES'GLE. ]
Vol. m. No. 11, —Whole No. 63.
DESTRUCTION OF STEADIER ATLANTIC.
The scene which is represented by our artist
below, was a most heart-rending catastrophe.
At the time of the collision a dense fog was pre-
Tailing. The passengers were all in bed, and
the Atlantic was in charge of the first mate. Im-
mediately following the collision the utmost con-
fusion prevailed among the deck and steerage
passengers, a very large portion of whom were
Norwegian emigrants. Many of them, in their
terror, jumped overboard instantly. Capt. Petty
vainly endeavored to calm their fears, by assur-
ing them there was no danger, hoping to keep
the steamer on its course, and reach port in sea-
son to save them ; but the water gained so fast
on the efforts of the crew, that by the time she
had proceeded two miles from the spot where the
collision took place, she was found to be rapidly
sinking. The fires in the engine room were ex-
tinguished by the rising ^water, and a scene of
terrible confusion followed. The emigrants, who
could not understand a word spoken to them,
added horror to the scene by their cries and ex-
hibition of frantic terror. The cabin passengers,
and all others who could be made to understand
the exhortations and orders of the captain and
officers, remained comparatively calm, and pro-
vided themselves with chairs, settees and beds,
all of whom wore patent life-preservers, which
buoyed them up in the water, and they were thus
saved. Great numbers of the immigrants jumped
overboard in their terror, without any provision
for their safety, and thus rushed on to certain
death. The fog was a sad hindrance to the
efforts made at rescue, but some 250 were picked
up by the propeller and taken to Erie. The pro-
peller had kept in the wake of the Atlantic, and
those on board of her did all in their power to
preserve the lives of the hundreds of human
beings who were now seen struggling in the wa-
ter. The cause of the dreadful accident is vari-
ously stated, and was, doubtless, owing to the
officers of the respective vessels not readily un-
derstanding the manner in which they should
have steered according to lawunder such circum-
stances. The loss of life is ascertained to have
been some hco hundred! As usual, there are
many affecting and interesting incidents related
as having occurred. Mr. Dana, who was lost,
was very efficient in saving the lives of passen-
gers, and exhorted them to cling to the life-pre-
servers, when in the water. When the boat
went down, he took a settee and plunged over-
board ; but at the same moment, some twenty or
thirty emigrants leaped over on to him, and he
went under. The last persons taken from the
boat were Mr. Givan, clerk of the boat, and Mr.
BucU, first engineer. The steamer had then
sunk, all but her stem, and they, with some Illi-
nois passengers, were clinging to a rope attached
to a floating mast and the wreck, being up to
their shoulders in water. As soon as the shrieks
of the drowning passengers were hushed, the
voice of a little boy was heard, and it was then
first discovered that a child about eight years old
was also clinging to a rope a short distance ofi'.
The little fellow, talking to himself, was saying :
" 0, I can't hold on much longer ! If papa was
here, he would hold me up." The man from
Illinois, a fine, powerful fellow, immediately
moved along the rope, and seized the boy as he
was about to sink. He held him for some time,
and called out to Givan to come to his relief.
Givan attempted to reach him, but in vain. At
that moment the boat of the propeller, loaded to
the water's edge with rescued passengers, passed,
and Givan hailed them to save the boy. Mr.
Blodgett, first mate of tlie Atlantic, jumped out
and swam to the rope, took the boy off, and re-
turned to the boat with him. He was thus saved.
COLLISION BETWEEN THE STEAMER ATLANTIC AND PROPELLER OGDENSBURG ON LAKE ERIE, N. T,
162
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A JIOMANTIC STOUY OF INCIDENT AND ADVENTUUE^^
Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written liXrHE88LY FOB OLEASOn's PIOTOniAL.l
f 11 iMiiEiiAi m mmm,
21 ffi»va:pl)U Sale of Spain, iitalii aiib (fziiglanii.
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[continued.]
CHAPTER III.— [coNTiNUEu.]
" I hfivc no time or inclination. In my worst
extremity, when upon the very verge of starva-
tion, comparatively, with our band routed, and
our means of supply cut off, I sent to you for a
loan, a simple loatt, to aid me in utter necessity,
and not till then, and you abuse my messenger,
and falsify your own promise. Kow, ingrate
that you arc ! show me yonr strong box. Point
me to your hoarded gold, tliat I may liclp myself
as I will, or by St. Paul, your life is not worth a
rush !"
"Beware!" exclaimed the old don, wildly.
" I am in earnest," continued the robber, " and
I tell you again, my plan is laid with caution.
The snarling hounds that yelped at our approach
here, lie with their throats cut at your portal.
Your house is suiTOunded, at every point, with
my followers ! You shall not escape. Up, then,
and redeem your promise — or take the conse-
quences of your refusal. Your mansion shall
be stripped and sacked, and not a soul now wdtliin
its walls shall live to tell the story. Quick, too,
for the morning is approaching."
" I am at your mercy."
" You placed yourself there."
" How much money — gold — wdll satisfy you V
" To-night, one thousand doubloons."
" You shall have the amount."
" And within three days tlie second thousand."
" I may not be able — "
" Pshaw ! You must .'"
" Be it so, then. And does this satisfy yon,
once, and for all?"
" I make no further terms. Give me the gold,
and on the third day hence my messenger will
wait on you for the other."
" I comprehend."
*' And you will treat with him honestly too V
" Yes," said the don.
" If not, the worse shall be your own, remenx-
ber !"
The first instalment was immediately fur-
nished ; and half an hour afterwards, the tramp-
ing of twenty horses was heard beyond the haci-
enda, as the marauding band, headed by Bernard
dc Norde, left the premises, and dashed away in
the darkness !
CHAPTER IV.
"wait and iiorE."
Tlie scene which we have sketched in the pre-
ceding chapter, was conducted very quietly, from
the start. On leaching the hacienda, Bernard
took care, first of all, to stop the alarm by killing
the hounds outside. Having previously made
himself acquainted with the premises by bribing
one of the slaves, he found little difficulty in se-
curing the three or four men servants, and tlien
posting his companions, he forced the window of
the old don's sleeping room, at the opposite wing
to that occupied by Corrinne, when his scheme
was quickly and successfully completed, as we
have seen, without disturbing the other inmates
of the dwelling.
Corrinne Almanza slept soundly and sweetly!
She, too, dreamed that a conquest had been
made. She saw, in her slumbers, not the image
of the accomplished necromancer who had so
delighted tlie vast auditory on the preceding
evening, but she was wandering in a sweet
grove beside the stranger who had been so rudely
treated at Ruberto's gate. She leaned upon his
arm, and heard liis voice — low, soft, and musi-
cal— us he poured into her willing ear tlic pro-
testations of a lover 1 She started from that happy
illusion, and awoke ! for she thought, on a sud-
den, that she heard the stern voice of Don Mig-
uel in the distance. She opened her eyes, but
the moon was just sinking gently down into the
west, and she found tliat her band still ju'essed
the gilt-edged note which had so mysteriously
reached her.
Again she slumbered, and again the same
form, the same handsome features, waited on her
drearn. In the vine-covered arbor of Don Mig-
uel's garden, whither she was wont to retire dailj',
she thought she sat and listened again to the
gentle and tender asseverations of the stranger,
who swore eternal devotion and truth to her.
Ah, it was a happy delusion, and she suffered
him to raise her hand to his lips ! But the sweet
dream passed on, and Corrinne, the beautiful,
awoke — it was morning.
Don Miguel Rubertohad very good cause to
observe a profound secrecy in reference to the
part he had been forced to play in the scene of
the night just passed. The reminiscences which
had been called up in the course of his brief inter-
view with the leader of the robber-gang were too
truthful, and too suspicious, to permit of his
making mention of the aff"air a second time if
the thing could be avoided. Through the con-
trivance of the treacherous servant whom de
Norde had bribed, t!ie rest of the attendants of
Don Miguel had enjoyed the evening right mer-
rily over a tankard of choice wines, and ere mid-
night came, they were " deep in their cups."
They had an indistinct recollection of being
attacked, threatened and gagged, subsequently;
but, when morning came, and no serious damage
appeared to have occurred from the visit of what
they believed to have been a party of robbers,
each man kept his own counsel, lest he sliould
expose himself to ridicule. The two dead hounds
were put out of sight, therefore, and no questions
being asked by any one, no one had to answer
for the disturbance !
The magician continued his stay in Seville,
and on the night of his performance, Don Miguel
was again induced, through the appeals of his
ward, to pay a second visit, accompanied by
Corrinne, to the opera house.
Previous to leaving her boudoir, on the even-
ing they were again to visit Seville, the lovely
Corrinne exhibited more than ordinary care in
the adjustment of her dress and her final toilet.
The brilliant necklace which clasped her ample
throat, never rested upon a fairer figure — the
diamonds which sparkled from her flashing tiara,
were not more brilliant than the wearer's piercing
eyes — the pure white satin robe wliich was so
gracefully looped with costly jewels at her bosom
and shoulders, was not whiter or clearer than
her alabaster skin. The ripe bloom of health
and maturing beauty was upon her round, full
face, and she was happy — very happy — for she
looked with favor upon the stranger's advances.
Within the small, white glove which she could
find an opportunity to loan to the magician, dur-
ing the evening's performances, was hidden an
envelope ; that cover contained a perfumed note ;
upon its white page was written three little words
only; without signature — without date. This
note was addressed to " The Wizard," and the
words were " Went and hope."
Thin cxpreasivo missive was carefully con-
cealed, and the old don appeared, with his capti-
vating and lovely ward, in due time, at the opera
houec. Every -seat was occupied, but direetions
had been given so that in the event of Rubcrtu'H
application for jjhices, tbey could readily be ob-
tained. The rim/ had remained in the wizard'fi
hands uncalled for! And he felt t>urc that its
fair owner had, ai least, taken no umbrage at his
proposal, from the fact that the jewel had not
been claimed.
The stranger's joy was silent, but intense,
when the curtain rose, at length, and the eye of
the magician fell upon the looked-for object.
Corrinne was there ! He saw her, in her proud-
est attire, in her most bewitching msicmhk — and
he felt that his suit had not been offensive to her.
She could not hut have found his letter, and he
should get a reply to it. Ah, how anxiously did
he watch for some token of recognition from that
fair face — and how weary were the passing mo-
ments, even amidst his rapid experiments, that
intervened between him and the proper opportu-
nity to solicit the loan of thai (jlove once more !
A wild bravo of hearty Spanish welcome
greeted the astonishing and graceful performer,
wdicn he appeared, and during the cheering and
continued plaudits which preceded his commence-
ment of operations for the evening, he recovered
the self-possession which momentarily deserted
him, under the circumstances, when he made his
entrance. Quiet was restored, at last, and the
diuertisement proceeded.
The kerchiefs, the bracelets, the rings of the
ladies, and the watches, the sombreros, and the
pocket-coins of the gentlemen were brought into
requisition in rapid succession, for the perform-
ance of various tricks. The broad stage was
alive with doves, and parociuets, and petite ani-
mals that had risen from the earth, or been cre-
ated apparently in the air, at the magician's
call; scores of massive and elegant bouquets of
flowers were culled from his vesture, fcr general
distribution ; vase npon vase of the rarest fruits
were produced from his tiny "magic thimble,"
while he stood directly in front of the stage ; and
a lady's glove was at last deshed by the adroit
and accomplished professor.
A score of outstretched hands were instantly
presented, from which, with easy gracefulness,
the necromancer made his choice ! And retiring
to the stage, he bore with him the delicate glove
of Corrinne Almanza, the Spaniard's ward !
The experiment was simple but beautiful.
The signor placed the glove upon a vase of
living coals; and the audience, some with sur-
prise, others with solid amusement, saw it quick-
ly crisped and burned to a cinder before their
eves ! T!io ashes, however, were as quickly and
carefully collected by the magician, who placed
the smoky and blackened ruins upon a clean sil-
ver salver. This he placed upon a small table,
near the foot-lights, and then apologized, in
broken Spanish, for having destroyed the lady's
glove ! Nevertheless, he declared his willingness
to make some amende for the mishap ; and forth-
with he commenced an unintelligible incantation
over the ashes.
Immediately a wreath of bright blue smoke
was seen to rise directly from the centre of the
salver ; and, as the attentive auditory watched,
a bud succeeded, then a blossom, and as it slowly
rose from the surface of the dish, a pure white
flower grew out from the stem, which at last ex-
panded into full bloom. A shout of delight fol-
lowed this demonstration, in the midst of which,
another bud appeared. The wizard waited a
moment, and then advancing to the table, he
gently opened the last named blossom, and from
out its centre, seemingly, there flew a magnifi-
cent dove, which hovered over the table an in-
stant, and then alighted on the magician's
shoulder.
Around its neck there hung a silken cord ;
and depending from it was a diminutive package,
scarcely two inches in length. The heart of
Corrinne leaped in her bosom fitfully, for she
recognized, or thought she did, instanter, the
little packet she had entrusted to the stranger's
honor!
But the gentle bird perched on its master's
hand at tho word, and, advancing to the dress-
circle, he presented the dove to Corrinne, and
begged her to open the packet, which hung upon
its neck. She did so, tremblingly and abaslied —
when lo ! compressed within the folds of the little
envelope, unstained and perfect — she discovered
her missing glove ! A thousand bravos succeeded
this feat, the dove flew to the stage, the wizard
retired, and the cmtain fell amidst tumultuous
applause !
Ere the laughter and noisy approbation had
ceased, the wizard was alone in his private apart-
ment. He Ijud secured the little treasure in-
tended for him, and he saw, in its superscription,
the delicate tracings of a lady's handwriting.
Ah, how did his heart leap again, while he broke
the seal of that note !
Its contents were quickly devoured. There
a[>pcared no date, no signature ; but lie was half
delirious with joy and satisfaction. It was
enough ! Corrinne had deigned to reply to his
burning and hastily prepared missive of love 1
He felt nothing, asked nothing, thought of noth-
ing, but the magic words wbicli glistened on tlie
page before him — " ivait and hope !"
He pressed the tiny letter to his lips, and
danced for very joy, as he exclaimed, again and
again :
" Sweet Corrinne, I am content to wait and
hope I"
CHAPTER V.
FONTINI AND BEKNARD DE NORDE.
At a distance of some sixty leagues fi'om
Seville, to the northwest, in the valley of the
Guadiana River, and between the Sierra Morcna
and the ancient Castilian Mountains, there is a
long and badly cultivated strip of country, which
for centuries has been the dwelling-place and re-
sort of numerous bands of adventurers, high-
waymen, bandits and freebooters ; and this re-
gion, from its peculiarity of location and the
general face of the country, seems to have been
pitched upon, by these hordes of robbers, as es-
pecially suited to, and intended for, their pur-
poses of retreat and rendezvous.
Some ten years prior to the period of which
we have now written, there was one clan more
formidable than therest, considerably larger than
the average of the bands which roved among the
passes and hills of the district we have described,
and which had for a long period, in spite of the
best efforts of the Spanish and Portuguese gov-
ernments, infested the neighborhood, to the great
annoyance and distress of travellers, and the
damage of the peaceably inclined inhabitants
upon the valley borders.
The efforts of the Spanish minister of police
had been entirely inefiectual in routing this gang,
and the Castilian soldiery had also been as un-
successful, in the same object. Minor clans had
been dispersed or destroyed ; but the followers
of the noted and everywhere dreaded Fontini
were invincible ! The fortunes of this band had
been very favorable, too, and their numerous ex-
peditions, at home and abroad, on the highway
or in the by-way, had been maiwellously success-
ful. Their enterprises had been thoroughly plan-
nedjUsually, and the booty they sought or cov-
eted had almost uniformly fallen into their hands,
sooner or later.
The character of the then leader of the tribe,
the notorious Fontini, was the most singular
compound of laziness and cunning, of adroit
managing faculty and consummate indolence, at
times, that could by any ingenuity of reasoning
be conceived of. He could sit in his palace of a
grotto, surrounded as he always was with every
luxury that could possibly conduce to his com-
fort and ease, and there he would leisurely con-
coct his plans and undertakings, which would
almost invariably prove the most profitable to
himself and his followers. He was thoroughly
acquainted with the whole range of country, fiir
and near, and he could thus direct his opera-
tions, from any stated point, with ease and fa-
cility. His success was unbounded, therefore ;
and his natural indolence increased as he grew
more and more wealthy in his advancing years.
At length he tired of the life he had led so
long; and after a few hints to his clan touching
upon his future interests, he at last informed
them that be had determined to abdicate, and to
retire altogether from the dangers and the tur-
moil of the profession. His proposition was
smiled at, at first, but he soon learned his men
to believe that he was in earnest ; and finally,
he gathered his foUowei-s together, had an esti-
mate made of all the possessions of the tribe,
contrived very shrewdly to seize upon the most
valuable and most portable treasure, and appro-
priating to himself one third of the valuables, he
distributed the balance among his men, appointed
his successor, and quit the mountains — forever !
^Yhcn Fontini named his successor — or, rather,
when the retiring captain proposed to those who
had so long shared his fortune, tho name of
his lieutenant, Bernard de Norde — axxnaninious
shout of hearty welcome greeted the gallant fel-
low, who was thus honored with the distinction.
There was no grumbling at this preference, no
dissentient voices, no opposition ; for every man
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DP^A^^IXG P00:M COMPANION.
163
of this strong band knew de Norde, and most of
them were rejoiced at the change, which they
deemed for the better.
" Long live our captain ! Long live de i^orde !"
was the instantaneous cry of the whole band.
And Bernard de Norde, who readily accepted
the post, responded briefly but pointedly to the
generous reception thus accorded him.
" Comrades !" he said, "you do me honor. I
am more than gratified — since our brave leader
will retire — to accept the station you offer me.
Our fortunes are equal. You may rely on me
ever. Continue to be bold and brave ; be true
to yourselves and to me, and your captain shall
never be found wanting !"
" Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Captain Bomard de
Norde ! Long live our young and noble cap-
tain !" responded the men, heartily.
The new leader was forthwith installed, and
Fontini prepared to depart at once. An escort
was provided him to the borders of civilization,
and de Norde led the van from that hour. Upon
reaching the frontier, two days afterwards, the
former ciiief shook hands with each man, sepa-
rately, and at last the parting moment came. He
took the hand of his late lieutenant, and after
thanking the men for their truthful devotion to
himself, he complimented the newly chosen lead-
er, and said :
" De Norde ! We have climbed many a dan-
gerous rampart together, and I have always
found you a whole man ! Count on me, always,
hereafter, as your friend ! Take my place ; you
are worthy of it. If ever you should need any
aid at my hands, command me to the uttermost
of the means I possess, and which you have so
nobly aided to place in my possession. Adieu !
May you ever be happy, and always successful !"
They parted. The band returned to their
quartern, and matters progressed advantageously
for a considerable period afterwards.
Years rolled by, however, and the numerous
startling and infamous robberies which had been
committed, had at last reached to sucb an ex-
tent that a large military force was despatched
to the mountains, for the purpose of breaking
up the rendezvous of the hordes of banditti that
had gathered there. Success, in a measure,
crowned the final efforts of the soldiery, and the
robbers for the greater part were, for the time
being, destroyed or dispersed. One unsuccessful
enterprise after another followed the fortunes of
de Norde and his band, until at last they were
really greatly reduced in numbers, and were well
shorn of their ill-gotten gains.
In the meantime, Fontini, the former brigand
chief, visited Italy, where he lingered lazily for
a twelvemonth ; and subsequently he went to
Paris, where he had a few relatives in the middle
walks of life. He pretended to have been en-
gaged in business at several points on the Conti-
nent, and as nobody knew much about his pre-
vious life, in any way, he was required to answer
but few questions. Moreover, his purse was
plainly well filled; and a goodly display of gold,
it is generally known, will " cover a multitude
of sins!"
His real name was Miguel Euberto, and he
was of Spanish origin. He had been reared to
a better employment ; but at an early age his
associations became questionable, and he found
his way into evil society very readily. Once in
the mountains, he contrived, through his natural
cunniug and general good sense, to eai-ve his
way to the head of his band of associates, and
subsequently to amass a large amount of money
and valuables, wliich he secreted or took away
with him, linall}', and soon converted into Vargetit.
During his sojourn in Paris, Raberto took a
fancy to a young lady, distantly related to his
family, whom he met there, and proposed to
adopt her, or become her future guardian. He
was her senior some five and twenty years — she
being then but fifteen — and no one suspected
that his motives were any other than sucli as he
declared them to be. Nevertheless he had really
another object in view ; and his natural cunning
and love of deceit did not fail to farther his actual
plans, in this undertaking.
She was beautiful — well-educated, for her
years, and altogether a charming girl. He loaded
her with costly jewelry and fine clothes, and at
last took her from her more immediate friends,
upon a tour, as he averred, of Europe. Flat-
tered by bis kind words, tempted by his show of
wealth, and desirous of making such a journey
withal, she consented to join him, without the
slightest suspicions as to his ultimate plans or
object, regarding his own destination, or her
weal.
They accomplished their journey at last, and
at the expiration of six months, the young girl
found herself domiciliated at the beautiful haci-
enda of Don Miguel Ruberto, as he was there
known — her guardian's permanent residence —
near Seville. Her parents died, her Parisian
friends were poor, she was surrounded with lux-
ury in her new home, and she soon came to be
contented with the change. Her name was Cor-
rinnc Almanza! and, at the time we meet her,
subsequently, at the dwelling of the old don, she
was upwards of twenty years of age.
To return, for a moment, to the fortunes of
de Norde. As we have said, during this period
of five or six years, he had at last met with re-
verses ; and, after various plans, during a whole
twelvemonth, in search of his former captain and
"friend," he found him, and resolved to try his
generosity, and to put his promise to a test.
Bernard had been Fontini's favorite pupil.
Of all the men he had ever met with, the former
chief often declared that no one ever equalled the
young lieutenant for cunning, tact, and genuine
diplomacy. He was sparely built, but his frame
was made up of sinews, seemingly. His muscu-
lar strength was very extraordinary. His per-
ception was exceedingly acute, his address very
pleasing, his readiness at every species of decep-
tion astonishing ; and his powers of impersonat-
ing the conduct, and character, and bearing of
other people, were most unaccountable. In his
disguises he was inimitable ; and for ready tact
in emergency Fontini had never found the man
who could approach him. His history, prior to
his joining the band in the mountains, was an
utter blank to every one, and even Fontini could
never draw from him the slightest inkling that
could lead to any satisfactory account of who he
was, or what had been his previous life.
Such, then, was the man whom the former
"chief of robbers" had now to deal with — after
a separation from him and his associations for
nearly six long yeai-s !
Don Miguel was always an avaricious and a
selfish man ; within the last few years, since his
gains had been converted into solid coin and tan-
gible securities, he had grown more avaricious,
more selfish, more close-fisted than ever. He
lived for bis own personal aggrandizement, and
his own comfort, and at this time was a man of
great worldly wealth ; for his investments had
turned out immensely profitable, and his current
expenses had constantly been kept within very
moderate bounds. The purpose of his heart was
to wed his irai-d — the beautiful Corrinne — him-
self! And to tiiat purpose all his cunning and
energies had long been directed.
At the most inopportune of all moments for
his interests and designs, the messenger of de
Norde had waited upon him for pecuniary aid.
His refusal to acknowledge the claim of his old
associate had brought Bernard himself to his
very bedside ! He had, perforce, paid the young
robber-captain a thousand doubloons in "good
red gold." And his demand was but now half
satisfied !
The morning of the third day succeeding the
terrible midnight interview between him and
Bernard had now arrived — and, as yet, Don
Miguel had come to no conclusion as to what he
should do when called upon for the remainder of
his former companion's claim.
The hours passed rapidly by, and evening was
approaching at last ; but the messenger of de
Norde had not yet made his appearance.
CHAPTER VL
THE CONFERENCE — A NEW FACE.
Late in the aftemoon of the third day, the
same superb horse which had borne the messen-
ger of de Norde some days previously, dashed
suddenly down the road and passed the outer
gate. Halting beyond the hacienda of Ruberto,
who sat on his piazza and saw every movement
of the traveller himself, the rider took from
his breast a paper, which he examined, and then
turning Ills steed, he came slowly back.
" Having ridden up to the terrace steps, he in-
quired, in a low and modest tone of voice, if one
Don Miguel Ruberto dwelt there. Upon receiv-
ing an answer in the aiHrmative, he alighted,
handed the reins to the slave in waiting, and ap-
proached the lortUy proprietor, who received
him with marked aud chilling coldness. As the
selfish Don Miguel turned towards him, how-
ever, the color fled from the Spaniard's face, and
iic had no words for utterance !
" Have I the pleasure of speaking with t^^e
propvictar of this fair residence?" askecl the
traveller, advancing to the old don's sif^e^
"'S'death!" exclaimed Ruberto; "amlde-
ceived ?"
" I Ihink not," responded the stranger, calmly.
" You are from Bernard — "
" I am Bernard de Norde," continued the trav-
eller, in the same modest and quiet tone; "a
gentleman you were formerly acquainted with, I
think."
" Yes, yes," said Don Miguel, quickly rising ;
" I see, yes ! Come in — come in — this way,
senor."
Now Ruberto had not the most remote suspi-
cion that de Norde would first call upon him in
person; he supposed that his messenger would
come, when he hoped to make out a ca?e of
evasion, and compromise the matter. So, when
he bclield de Norde before him, his thoughts
turned to the bed-room interview, and he was
illy prepared to speak with Bernard himself.
Forgetting what he was doing, therefore, in his
excitement, he advanced at once to the reception-
room, instead of preceding his visitor, as he in-
tended to do, to his private parlor, and ere he
could recover from the mistake, he found him-
self in the presence of his ward, the lovely Cor-
rinne Almanza !
The fair lady arose and curtsied with grace,
as Don Miguel bnnglingly said, "My friend,
Senor Bernard — Senor, my ward."
That was a happy circumstance, for at least
one heart ! The visitor at once entered into easy
conversation, and his peculiarly happy manners
had the effect of restoring the disturbed nerves
of Don Miguel, in a measure, who soon after-
wards asked CoiTinne to excuse him — and with
his guest, he retired to ti*ansact some pressing
matters of business in his library.
As the stranger rose to go, he took the hand
of Corrinne in his own, and said, " Good night,
lady !" only — when a thrill shot through her
frame on the instant, and she staggered back,
nearly fainting, to the couch, as they departed !
This incident was unobserved by Don Miguel ;
but the effect was not lost sight of by his "friend,
Senor Bernard," who said nothing, however, but
followed his former leader into his private apart-
ment.
"Now, de Norde — "
" Now, Fontini," quickly responded his guest.
" Ruberto, here" suggested the old don, coldly.
"Ruberto, then, or Fontini, or whatever you
will, so that I am not detained here for want of
the gold you promised."
" But you promised to send a messenger."
" I thought better of it, and came myself."
" I have thought better of my promise !"
" And what do you conclude upon ?"
" That I cannot submit to your demands."
"What if I increase the amount?"
"What!" exclaimed Don Miguel, enraged,
" would you rob me of every dollar ?"
" No, good Senor Ruberto, no ! I have only
asked the loan of two thousand doubloons — one-
half of which I have received from you. But,
senor, my time is money, and you have unne-
cessarily delayed my schemes. So I shall charge
you for the detention. Give me, then, two thou-
sand doubloons in addition to what I have re-
ceived, and I cry quits with you — not else, how-
ever, by St. Mark !"
"Never!" cried Don Miguel, "never will I
submit to such extortion."
" Extortion ! Come, I donotlike such words.
Who put this gold within your grasp ? Who
aided and backed you in j'our plans to gain what
you enjoy ? Who risked his life and limbs, hun-
dreds of times, to defend and enrich Fontini,
now the lordly Ruberto V
Don Miguel war silent, for the old days came
back to his memory when he had been in worse
predicaments than this, and had contrived to
escape, unscathed. His mind, which had been
inactive for many a long month, was now glanc-
ing at the chances in his favor, in tliis uncom-
fortable emergency, and he made no reply.
He had already parted with a thousand doub-
loons ! The price of silence, on the part of de
Norde, for the present only, was now two thousand
more ! This was too much. He determine^ nqt
to pay it. When this was obtainetl, bp saw that
he was just as much in the pQWCr of Bernard for
evil, as ever ; and ho wquld avoid the pecuniary
penalty.
The lion was roused ! The cunning of Don
Miguel, which had lain dormant for years-^ince
thei« had been no occasion for its exercise — was
once more in active motion within him ; and he
very quickly decided upon his iuture course in
the matter. Turning again to Bernard he said ;
" At least, do Norde, you must afford me time
to obtain tliis money,"
"Bah!" replied de Norde, at once, "would
you attempt any such trifling with me, Fontini?
Think you that I shall give you time and leisure
to hetraif me, instead of fulfilling your promise 1
No, no !"
The countenance of Don Miguel fell, for he
was guilty in his own heart! But he quickly
rallied, and asked, with some feeling:
" Did I ever betray you, de Norde 1"
" No, Fontini ; because you never had motive
so to do. Circumstances are now reversed."
" And you dare not trust me ?"
" I do not fear you, Fontini, but I cannot delay
this matter. My engagements are peremptory."
" I must have time."
"How much will accommodate you, then?"
" Until — to-morrow," said Ruberto, slowly.
" At what hour, to-morrow 1"
" At noon."
" You are in earnest, then, and will not play
me false V continued de Norde, looking into hia
eye, curiously.
" You may rely on me."
" Two thousand doubloons, in Spanish gold,
at noon, to-moiTOw?"
" Yes, on my honor."
"It is well, I agree to that."
"In the meantime," continued Don Miguel,
calmly, " be my guest. I sliall negociate the
money through a friend, and will not leave you
alone here, lest you may suspect my intentions."
"Enough," said Bernard, " I think I may
venture to trust you. But, mark me ! I must not
be deceived. To-morrow, at the hour of noon,
the gold must be forthcoming. And if your evil
genius shall suggest you, in the interim, to do
me injury, or play the knave, again, beware I
For, I swear to you, Fontini, I will not, cannot
now be balked. If you will provide this money,
I tell you, on my honor, it shall be returned to
you. If you relent, and aim to entrap me, your
house shall be sacked, and your head shall pay
the forfeit for your perfidy — within the week en-
suing ! Do we understand each other ?"
"There is no need of threats, Bernard. I
have determined on my course."
Tiiese were Ruberto 's final words, and shortly
afterwards, the traveller, who declared he was
very weary with his long journey, partook of a
goblet of wine and some dried fruit, and was
shown to his sleeping apartment.
De Norde said, " Good night, senor," when
the slave appeared at the door to conduct him to
his room ; but Don Miguel only moved his hand
as the former retired.
The once robber-chief, now the lordly owner
of uncounted thousands, the depraved and wicked-
hearted Fontini, sat alone in his library room,
half an hour afterwards, with his head resting
between his hands, and his dim but vicious eyes
glaring fearfully at vacancy, as he meditated !
" He has made his last seizure !" muttered
Ruberto, mentally, as he sat there with the cold
drops of perspiration trickling through his trem-
bling and extended hands ; " he has drunk his
last cup of wine ; he has ridden the last jouraey
he will ever ride in this world ! Fool that he is I
Does he forget that I am Fontini % That I was
Fontini ? Well, he may as well die, as that I
should starve. Three thousand doubloons ! Full
fifty thousand Spanish dollars ! He must pay
for his temerity. I am equal to it yet — Bernard
de Norde will go hence no more !"
Such was the Spaniard's resolve. And though
he did not care to have the blood of a companion
upon his hands, yet he loved his wealth too well
to shower gold in thousands upon friend or foe.
He determined to remain in his private apart-
ment, and, when all was still, he would steal to
the chamber of his guest and despatch him as he
slept. His purse of gold might easily be placed
under the pillow of one of his slaves, and that
would exonerate him from suspicion ! And throw-
ing himself back in his easy chair, for the time
being, the hardened robbev actually slept I
While this diabolical plan was being matured
in the mind of Don Miguel, the stranger was
busy in his chamber. Seating himself at a table,
he drew from his breast a stiletto, which he
placed before him, and then turning to his coat-
pocket, he secured a double-barrelled pistol, the
priming to which he scrutinized with more than
ordinary caution. Then taking out his watch,
be glanced at it, and placing his light against
the lower pane of glass in his window, he waited
anxiously for the hand to point to the hour of
twelve o'clock.
[to be CONTINITED,]
Good fictiODS crown themselves with laBtlnR hays ;
Who well deserves needs not unother's praise.
Heath.
164
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWIISG ROOM COMPANION.
DRY GOODS JJAZAAIi.
Wc present oin* readers on tliis page n scries of views
ahowiny; the exterior inul interior of the eelubrated dry j^oods
warolionso of Messrs. llill, Lineoln & Geer. Jt is situated
on tlic fonuT of Wa^hinjjioii and West Streets, Nos .'J.'i.'i
and 3.'J5, and is oneof tlio most popular estaI^li^Ilments of tin;
kind in tlie eity. Their busiin-'S.s is eonducteii upon the easli
system, and conscciuently they m-c enabled to sell their jujoods
at such i)riees as to satisfy the masses; and almost tvery ar-
ticle in the dry ftoods line may he obttiined — from the richest
India sluiwl to tlie most common goods of domestic manu-
facture. Tlicy em|)loy in their two spacious sales rooms
about forty salesmen. The third and fourth stories of the
building ai'o also occupied liy them for the manufacture of
cloaks, visites, mantillas, embroidery and dress-making, in
whicli they employ from sevcniy-tivc to one hundred female
operatives. They employ the most experienced artists to
superintend each separate branch, and ladies cannot fail to
be suited in these departments. The several partners com-
posing this firm — whose names we here annex — will readily
be recognized, and have been known to the community i'or
many years.
Walter E. Hill, John M. Lincoln,
Charles H. Geer, Edward J. Long,
James W. IIahuis.
The lowest interior view is of the first floor. In this room
may be found linen sheetings and shirtings of every grade ;
linen damasks and napkins, table covers, towelling and
housekeeping goods of every description; hosiery, gloves,
domestic goods, articles for children's wear, furniture chintz,
flannels, blankets, quilts, Tliibet cloths, Erench merinos,
French all wool de hiines, chalies, barege de laincs, cotton
and wool de laincs of all prices, French and English muslins
and white goods, French, English and American prints and
ginghams, together with many other articles which our limits
will not allow us to enumerate, and to form a just estimate
of which our readers must call and examine for themselves.
The second view is the second floor; where may be found
silks of every variety, varying in price from thirty-seven and
a half cents to six dollars per yard ; high lustered black silks
from the most celebrated manufacturers, silk velvets, shawls
of every design, cloaks, sacks, visites and mantillas in great
variety, manufactured from the
most approved Parisian styles.
There is also a dejiartment ap-
propriated for mourning good-',
and is worthy the atleniion of
those who arc in pursuit of such
articles. The business in this
establishment is conducted upon
correct principles, and the pub-
lic will find accomplished and
attentive salesmen to serve
them at all times. Altogether
the establishment is one that
reflects credit upon our city
mercantile character, and gives
evidence of that steady and for-
tunate improvement in a pecu-
niary point of view, which in-
dustry and a strict regard for
honorable dealing always in-
duces. There is some diflfer-
ence between the aspect present-
ed by Wa-^hington Street of to-
day and the little narrow " cow
path" which marked its " wind-
ing way," not many years ago.
I^owits entire length is adorned
with large and brilliantly fur-
nished stores, devoted to every
branch of trade, but more par-
ticularly to that of dry goods.
From this department of mer-
chandize, therefore, we have se-
lected one example, which we
give at this time. One thing
our readers may be assured of,
that whatever establishments ^ve
select for representation in these
pages, they will be only the best
ones in the line to which we re-
fer. Thus it is our "end and
aim" to give only such notaiile
objects as are also reputable,
and which will convey not only
pleasure to the eye but satisfac-
tion to the critical mind. The
exterior and interior views given
on this page are of this descrip-
tion, and refer to one of our
dry goods palaces.
GAV, THt; l»OET.
Gay had the strange contra- 1
diction of a manly mind, and
fastidious and somewhat effem-
inate manners. His birth and
habits were of the city, and yet
his imagination was all rural.
He never was engaged in rural
sports; nor does it appear that
he was ever on horseback. He
amused himself in the fields,
with flowers and plants, and
butterflies and insects. Hisfana/
supplied hira with the habits of
country people. He loved to
contemplate the snowy whirl-
wind, the April shower, the sum-
mer morn, and tlie fading lights
of evening, as the golden tints
recede into twilight and dark-
ness. His manner in society
was that of a petlt-maiire. His
solitary thoughts were never
frivolous. He was serious, gen-
tle, benevolent and conscien-
tious. Perhaps he was too del-
icate for life j'M'Je tempests ot
the world. He wiis like a ten-
der plant, whjeh c,pu^d tjpt bear
rfj^ ypilgh air, ancj tempests and
frost8--r=ra uovt Pf sensitive pjarjt,
keenly ali vc to l!iu slfchfpst
tpuch of rudeness. — Amttltt/st.
DRY GOODS WAREHOUSE OF HILL, LINCOLN & GEER.
KNOWLEDGE 18 I'OWER.
Man aspires after perfection ; civilized nations grow up in
the wilds of Australia and America, regions unknown to the
ancients. Man now extends his empire over nature, more
widely than ever at any former period; while the savajjic
with difliculty guides his frail skiff over the waves, the Euro-
jiean launches his lofty ships, like a giant, into the sea, and
steers his floating castles, willi their hundred thundering
mouths, over the illimitable ocean. Rocks are rent by a lit-
tle jjowder ; forests are felled ; the great deep is fettered by
artificial moles ; the air is traversed by the daring aeronaut;
the abys.ses of the sea are opened to human labors, by the
aid of the diving bell ; tlie bowels of the globe arc hearchtd
by the miner, lamp in hand, for gold and gems; and the
wide reach ol" enterprise and curiosity informs us daily of the
events that take place in other hemispheres; riiete wonders
announce the high dignity of our race. It is science tliut
gives man this universaliiy, this vast power. It is by means
id industry, enlightened and guided by science, that the
wealthy citizen of London, or Paris, reposing on a seat of
Indian wood, sips the infusion of a Chinese leaf, or an Ara-
bian bean mixed in a Japanese cup with the sugar of the
Antilles, from a spoon of Mexican or Peruvian metal, which
the labors of some descendant of Montezuma, or Marco Ca-
pac, have wrung from the mines of the Andes. The child
])lays with an ivory hall, or a strip of bone, which has been
procured by the slaughter of a gigantic quadi-uped, in the
unknown regions of burning Africa, or of a still more colos-
sal monster amidst the eternal ice of the pole. Thousands
of negroes, like so many human bees tran.sported into an-
other hemisphere, press a sweet juice from the stalk of a
grass that has itself been propagated by human skill in re-
gions distant from its native plains, to feed the poorest peas-
ant of Europe. Is it not a wonderful sight, thus to see man
subject all nature, animate and inanimate, by industiy and
knowledge ? Is it not glorious to behold a simple individual
at the desk of his counting-house, commanding the extremi-
ties of the earth ? A few light marks, traced upon a scrap
of material made from castaway rags, carry life or death to
another hemisphere, light up the torch of war, hurl princes
from their thrones, or bring back brilliants of rarest beauty,
to adgm the palaces, that rise on the banks of the Tlianus,
the Seine, or the Danube. It is
sometimes true that a learned
man arrays himself against the
progress of knowledge; as for
example : Polydore Virgil, who
wrote in the time of Henry
VIII., of England, 1530, was
so alarmed at the growing pro-
pensity to encourage navigation,
from the dangers which he
thought must attend it, and the
folly of attempts to render it
very useful, that he compared
the rashness of men in exposing
themselves to the ocean, to the
attempt of Dredalns, who un-
dertook to fly ; and he said :
" men now inhabit the sea, and
build ships as large as houses,
and fight battles on the ocean
as on the dry land." He was a
learned scholar; but for useful
improvements, the world must
look to more enterprising and
resolute men, who battle with ac-
tual life. — Mechanics' Mayazine.
INTERIOR VIKW OF THE SECOND FLOOR.
INTERIOR VIEW OF THE FIRbT FLOOR.
POliVPI.
Most naturalists give the
name of polypus to certain gela-
tinous animals, generally shaped
like little bags, the borders of
which are provided with fila-
ments, causing them to resem-
ble those pulps, which the an-
cients called poh/pi. Those
which inhabit fresh water are
the best known. Destitute of
interior organs, without eyes,
lungs, or brain, without ner^'es,
or even intestines, these animals
subsist entirely by absorption.
They are wholly stomach, and
throw ofi^ the surplus of diges-
tion through the mouth. When
cut into a number of pieces, and
even divided into particles, each
separate fragment becomes a
new and complete animal. They
may be turned inside outward,
like a glove, without their vital
functions being at all impeded
by the operation. Two polypi,
or two portions of the same
polypus, may be grafted togeth-
er, and the united mass will
continue to live, as before.
They are often connected to-
gether in greater or less num-
bers, and possess one common
vitality diffused among them
all ; for the food, taken by each,
contributes to the nourishment
of the whole community; and
yet each individual polypus acts
for itself, seeking its own suste-
nance, and fighting for it with
the other polypi to which it is
joined. They subsist on shell
aquatic animals, which they
seize with their feelers, and in-
troduce into the pouch which
serves them for a stomach.
Sometimes their prey is bigger
than themselves. During the
hot weather, they multiply by
suckers, like vegetables, with
great rapidity ; but on the ap-
proach of winter, they fall to
t!ie bottom of the water, where,
it is said, they are protected
from the cold, till the return of
the spring. — Translated from the
Magazine Universel.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUA^YING ROOM C0:MPANI0N.
165
BURJ^ING OF THE SHIP ROBERT CKNTER, OF BOSTON, IN NEW YORK HARBOR.
BURNING OF SHIP ROBERT CENTER.
At about 10 o'clock Friday eveniuo;, August
20th, the fire alarm bells struck, indicating- a fire
in the Seventh District. The engine and hose
companies were soon on the move, but it was
some time before they could find where their ser-
vices were wanted, as one or two other alarms
took place at tlie same time. It was at length
ascertained that the ship Robert Center, Captain
Arnold, lying at Pier No. 19, foot of Wall street,
was on fire. The mate of the ship was asleep in
the cabin and the ship's watchman was on deck.
John Lapidgc, the private watchman on another
ship, discovered an immense volume of smoke
ascending from the ship, and immediately gave
the alarm. In a short time some ten or fifteen
fire companies were on the pier, and after some
delay succeeded in getting as many streams
playing on. board. The hatchways were kept
closed to prevent any circulation of air reaching
the flames, which by this time had communicat-
ed from one of the vessel* to the other. It was
at last deemed advisable to scuttle the ship ;
by which, together with the immense quantity of
water poured into it by the firemen, she soon ca-
reened and sunk by the pier at the foot of Wall
street, where she lay. The vessels in the imme-
diate vicinity were hauled otr into the stream.
Towards morning the shrouds were
cut away from the main and fore-
masts to prevent the rigging setting
fire to other vessels, and they went
over in one mass of confusion. The
mizzen-mast burnt and fell over. —
The R. C. was destined for San f
Trancisco, and was owned by Cen-
ter & Co., and partially loaded with
liquors, dry goods, and a general
cargo. She was worth some $50,- I
000, and was insured for something
like half her value. It is supposed
320,000 will be required to repair I
her. Her cargo was valued atS40,-
000; about $16,000 on which was
insured in Wall street. Tiie R. C.
was built at Barnstable, Mass., in
1850, and was 809 tons burthen. An
inetfectual attempt was made to ex-
tinguish the fire by one of Phillips's
Fire Anaihilators.
MOORE, THE POET.
Moore's forehead, says Leigh
Hunt, was bony and full of charac-
ter, with bumps of wit large and ra-
diant enough to transport a phrenol-
ogist. Jn this particular he resem-
bled Sterne. His eyes were as dark
and as fine as you could wish to see
under a set of vine leaves; his mouth
generous and good humored, with
dimples ; and his manner as bright
as his talk, full of the wish to please
and be pleased. He sang and play-
ed with gi-eat force on the piano
forte, as might be supposed from his
musical compositions. His voice,
which was a little hoarse in speak-
ing, softened into a breath, like that
of a flute, when singing. In speak-
ing, he was emphatic in rolling
about the letter r, perhaps out of
despair of being able to get rid of
the national peculiarity.
VOLCANO OF COTOPAXI.
Earthquakes and volcanoes are among the
most terrific phenomena known as incident to
our globe. Lightning is sometimes very appal-
ling in its effects; and some astronomers affirm
that the eartl^is liable to come in contact with a
comet, which would produce the "wreck of mat-
ter and the crush of worlds." The latter is an
event, however, that seldom disturbs us, as it
will not probably happen in ages of ages. The
other desolating calamities may be more justly
apprehended. Yet earthquakes have not been
formidable in this part of the globe ; nor have
volcanoes been known in North America, except
in Mexico, California and the Russian territory
of the Aleutian Islands. We can refer to them,
then, with composure, and contemplate them
merely as natural phenomena occurring in dis-
tant regions, with little personal solicitude.
Earthquakes and volcanoes originate from the
same cause; an accumulation of heat in the
bowels of the earth, reaching such an intensity
that it requires vent ; and an explosion takes
place at the surface of the earth. Earthquakes
prevail in the vicinity of volcanoes. In most
southern climates, earthquakes have been fre-
quent and destructive. And in Europe and
Asia, near the shoi'es of the Mediterranean, they
have occurred in the same latitude as New Eng-
land. Volcanoes have been less frequent and
less numerous. The most noted in Europe, is
that of Hecla in Iceland, of Vesuvius in Na-
ples, and of Etna in Sicily. Volcanoes are
known also in America. Tliat of Cotopaxi, one
of the Andes in South America, according to
the description of Humboldt, "is the most for-
midable on the globe." Tlie Andes range of
mountains was, at one time, supposed the highest
in the world ; but it has lately been ascertained
that the Himalayah, the mountain boundary of
Hindostan, is higher. The loftiest of the Andes
is Chimborazo, which is 21,000 feet high. Coto-
paxi is 18,000 feet. Humboldt ascended the
former within two thousand feet of the to]), but
could proceed no further. The volcano of Co-
topaxi is said to bo in constant agitation ; and
is sometimes heard at the distance of six hun-
dred miles. Humboldt says, that at the distance
of one hundred and forty miles, it sounded like
the continuous discharge of cannon. How fear-
ful and terrific is the artillery of nature ; and
what desolating elements are held down under
the earth's suiface, ready to belch forth and hurl
destruction far and wide, but for the restraining
hand of a beneficent Providence. — Cyclopedia of
Entertaining Knowledge.
THE BRAZILIAN EAGLE.
There is a great variety of these birds of prey ;
and they are to be found in all parts of the world.
They are about the mountains and in the desert,
on rivers, and near the ocean. They exhibit an
■unusual variety, in form, size, and color. The
Brazilian eagle is esteemed a handsome bird,
and is sometimes supposed to form a connecting
link between the eagle and vulture tribes. It
resembles the latter in having its head less thick-
ly covered than other eagles, and in the position
of its eyes. Still it bears a closer relation to
the former in its general structure and in its hab-
its. It is destructive in its habits, but is not ca-
pable of a lofty flight, nor of taking its prey on
the wing. The upper surface of the head of this
bird is black, and the feathers slightly elongated
backwards ; the beak also is somewhat elongat-
ed. The neck, breast, and shoulders arc of a
brb'ttmish gray, but the latter have streaks or bars
of a darker color. The rest of the plumage is
of nearly a uniform shade of blackish brown. —
Several changes, however, take place in the plu-
mage of this bird as it advances in age. The
common name of this eagle, in Brazil, is cara-
cara, which is derived from its peculiarly hoarse
cry. When fully grown, it is twenty-one inches
in length, and nearly fifty in the expanse of the
wings. This bird is not confined to
the coast of Brazil, but may be met
^^^^ with extensively in South America.
^^cX In Paraguay, and on the river Plate,
- -i-.siX it is equal to all other birds of prey,
i Sometimes it is found near the
Straits of Magellan. It is very vo-
racious and destructive ; and fre-
: quently approaches dwelling houses
for puiTioses of prey. It is a beau-
tiful bird, but has not that lofty
and noble appearance belonging to
i the American eagle — our own na^-
tional emblem. — Ornithologist.
^>"' .'■"■^'^■fS^^^^^^'^
CAPTURE OF THE BATTERY OF BASTION NO. 8? AT ROME.
CAPTURE OF THE BATTERY
OF BASTION NO. 8 AT itOME.
This engraving is from a painting
by the celebrated Horace Vernet,
and represents an incident in the
siege of Rome by the Erench troops
under General Oudinot, made upon
the spot. The picture is full of in-
(crest. While those of the defen-
ders who have not been killed at
their guns, are being driven back by
the French Infantry, who have forc-
ed a passage through tke breach
made by their cannon, the soldiers
of the engineer corps are dismount-
ing a heavy piece of artillery with
their axes. The heroic artillerists
who have served their gun to the last
gasp, and now lie dead around it, be-
long to the corps of the gallant Gar-
ibaldi, and are dressed in the pictur-
esque costiime worn by the followers
of that brave chieftain. The tri-
umph of the Erench over the repub-
licans of Rome was ihe darkest dis-
grace that ever befell their arms,
and the sight of this picture ought
to call a blush to the cheek of every
true Frenchman, while it must pos-
sess a mournful interest to the
friends of Italian liberty.
166
GLEASON'S riCTOrJAL DRAWING HOOM COMrANION.
[Written for OlciiHOn's I'li'toi-iji].]
SHADOWS or Tin: j'ast.
DT JOSEI'lt U. DUTLKR.
I Bit ftnd think ofotlior diijs,
And liapplnoHH ponti by,
"VVhon tho Mumnier night 1» nilm and bright,
And tho moon cliiiibn up the n\iy ;
Tliouglit, liko tho iiglitning fi'Om abovo,
Far llnsliiiif,', onwiiitl JlioH,
And brlngH, with wi/jird power, tho piiht
Bcforu my tearful c^'ob.
Tlic Bunny diiyn of boyhood's spring
Coiuo wreathed witli umny u liowcr,
And joyfl in nhiidowy beauty drest,
Liv« o'er their tranwient hour.
Again the vulleys that I loved
Arc blossoming and groon,
Tho broolt in gushing joyous on,
Whore uiy young feet have been.
And by its side again I stray,
Bonoiitli tlic spell of ioTc ;
"With ono now gone from earth, to dwell
Amid tlie courts altovo.
The powerful wand of nieinory calls
Her form before my siglit;
I almost feci her hand in mine,
And see her eyes of light.
Again around mo live tlio friends
My boyhood's summer knew,
And for a moment, in my bcart
The smiles of joy renew ;
Some of tliosc dear ones now are gone
Where all of e:irth shall go,
And ItaTe the tree and Howcr to bloom,
Tho silver stream to tlow.
I hoped to live for purpose high,
I dreamed of coming fame,
And on the dnuty field of life,
Thought of a lasting name.
Ay, and in woman's hwirt I thought
My memory should be dear,
And the sweet fancy oft has lent
A star, when life was drear.
So now, ye airy dreams of bhss,
Ye thoughts of comfort, rise I
And though I know you 're false, ye etill
Are pleasing to my eyes ;
For ye are all that now remain
Of many a year long fled,
Ye are unto my weary soul,
The spirits of the dead.
My lonely hours are yours, ye dreama,
Ye dawnings of the past;
Then weave your web of spell-work fair.
Though fated not to laHt.
I'm sadly lone — no joys beside.
On time's dark waste I know,
Bo let your visions rise for me
While memory's fountains flow.
0, little have I wrought of good,
No laurels bind my brow,
Jfo woman's gentle heart is mine,
Nor minstrel honors now I
Then come, ye shadows of the past,
Ye ghosts of scenes long fled ;
Ye seem unto my weary heart
The spirits of the dead 1
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
EDITH STANFIELD.
A TALE OF THE OLDEN TIME,
BY MRS. CAROLINE OENE.
Moke than two centuries since, and some fif-
teen or twenty yeai's after the settlement of
Salem, Massachusetts, the Rev. Hugh Peters,
successor of Roger WilUams, and the personal
friend of Gov. Endicott, had the pastoral charge
of the only church in the place.
The afternoon service had just closed, and al-
most the entire population of the town, with sol-
emn countenances and grave demeanor, were
slowly issuing from the portals of the house of
worship, which was situated on Main Street.
There were a few, however, among those com-
posing the more youthful part of the congrega-
tion, who, when they imagined the eyes of their
seniors were not upon them, ventured to let a
smile irradiate the mask of gravity, wliicli they
had deemed proper to assume ; while tlieir light
and agile steps showed they were alive to the
bright sunshine and balmy air. Among these
was a maiden whose name was Edith SianHcld,
whose exquisitely fair complexion, hair of a
light, sunny brown, and cjcs of " dclit-ioiis blue,"
indicated Iier to be of jiurc Saxon lineage.
Though she accommodaicd her steps to the
hIow and dignilied gait of a tall, stately looking
lady by her side, she looked as if she would wil-
lingly have joined a group of lasses a short dis-
tance before tliem, one of whom ventured to turn
her head and throw hack a merry glance.
"Edith," Huid the dignified looking lady, "ia
not that damsel, who is so hcdizencil wiih laces
anil gay top knots, and who — if correct judgment
may lie lonned hy her light and careless carriage
—has forgotten that it is the Salil)alh day, the
daughter of Morion, who delights in unholy
revels ';"
" She is the daughter of Mr. Morion/' replied
Edith ; " but I never heard that hu delighted in
unholy revels ; and those who gave you to under-
stand that he did, were, I douht not, guilty of a
foul slander."
"Niece Edith," said the lady, with much as-
perity, " those from whom I received the infor-
mation, were persons of truth ; and in confirma-
tion of what they said, they told me that he had
caused a May-pole to be raised on Merry Mount,
round which — in.stcad of setting an example of
sobriety becoming his years — he danced to tlie
sound of the viol, and, with fair words, enticed
the young men and maidens to join in the sinful
revels."
If Edith had intended to reply, she was pre-
vented hy a young man, who overtook them,
and after saluting the elderly lady in a manner
at once respectful and courteous, addressed her
in a way which, without being too familiar,
siiowed that he was an old acquaintance. In re-
turn, Miss Persis made a stiff inclination of her
head, and drew herself up into an attitude still
more erect and stately; but the heightened
bloom on the checks of Edith, and the smile
which parted her red lips, thereby reveaUng
teeili white as tlie purest pearl, told far more
plainly than language could have done, that to
her, at least, liis presence was by no means un-
welcome. Nor could this be accounted singular,
for, in personal and mental advantages, few
young men could compare with Dudley Win-
throp. The coldness with which Miss Persis
Stantield, Edith's aunt, treated him, was owing
to circumstances which, in her estimation, were
so momentous, that their existence could be
atoned for by none of those qualities which re-
commended him to tlie favor of Edith.
Among the most prominent of these, was his
having spoken in f;ivor of retaining the liturgy
in public worship, which the governor and most
of those in power had rejected, and his having
intimated that the zeal of the first magistrate
was not according to knowledge, when ho cut
the red cross from the colors, as a Popish and
idolatrous symi)ol. He had, moreover, persisted
in wearing his hair long, although the court,
sanctioned by the governor, had gone strong
against a fashion which, from having been prac-
tised by the vain-glorious and too often dissolute
cavaliers in favor of the restoration of Charles
II,, was considered as unbecoming to the dis-
creet and sober-minded.
Dudley Winthrop made some attempt at sup-
porting a conversation, but the cold and laconic
replies of Miss Persis and the reproof she admin-
istered to Edith, who ventured some remark,
checked his efforts, and the latter part of the
distance between the church and the place where
the two ladies resided was accomplished in si-
lence. He experienced a feeling of relief, not-
withstanding his partiality to Edith, when they
arrived in front of a large, wooden mansion,
whose many angles were constructed with a view
to break the force of the easterly winds, which,
sweeping over a broad expanse of ocean, struck
heavily upon unsheltered situations. As he
opened the gate of the picket fence, enclosing a
yard in front of the building decorated with
shrubs and flowers, and politely waited for Miss
Persis to enter, he slipped a note into the hand
of Edith, which she as quickly slipped into her
pocket. He then, first praying that Miss Persis
would present Iiis respectful regards to her kins-
man, Gov. Endicott, made a graceful obeisance
to both the ladles, and soon disappeared by turn-
ing into a street, to what — many years after-
wards, as it is at the present time — was called
Derby Street.
Miss Persis Stanfield, who was a distant rela-
tion of Gov. Endicott, had, since the decease of
li.is wife — which took place soon after he came
to this country — presided over the domestic de-
partment of the household.
Edith Stanfield, her niece, was an orphan, and
of a temperament fur too cheerful to suit Miss
Persis, whose ascetic notions were better fitted
to the gloom of a convent than to the perform-
ance of the every day duties of life. The gov-
ernor, when they entered the house, had already
returned from church, and was seated in a heavy
chair of carved oak, the back of it being sur-
mounted with a .shield, in the centre of which
was a winged horse. The top of the shield sup-
ported the head of a knight, with helmet on and
vii^or closed ; while above it, was still anotlier,
represented in profile, but whether intended for
the bend of a dog, a griflin, or flying dragon,
would not be easy for one unskilled in heraldry
to determine. The whole, however, which had
been carved by no unskilful hand, was doubtless
intended to represent the armorial bearings of
the Endicotts.
The present occupant of the chair was no de-
generate scion of worthy and respectable ances-
tors, noted for courage and ability. A person
skilled in physiognomy, might have read the
more prominent traits of his character in his
countenance. His comjiresscd lips were expres-
sive of energy, decision, and even sternness; and
the handsome, well-rounded chin — partially con-
cealed by a beard — was in keeping with the firm
mouth. But when the eye was raised to the
upper part of the face, and contemplated the se-
rene beauty of the expansive, well-developed
forehead, and the large dark eyes, beaming with
a melancholy, almost dreamy lustre, these hard-
er and sterner traits were forgotten ; and one
might imagine that poetic fervor as well as reli-
gious zeal warmed the bosom of the venerable
man, and that those gentle charities which im-
part to life its best charm, were not lost amid
the official duties incident to his station.
On tho present occasion, his aspect was graver
than usual. This was doubtless, in part, owing
to the deep sense he entertained of the solemnity
of the day ; yet a glance through the window at
Dudley Winthrop, as he opened the gate for
Miss Persis and Edith, were not without their
effect. Though the late Gov. Winthrop had
been to him as an own brother, he did not even
tolerate the young man in question, who was
the governor's nephew. He was wont to desig-
nate him as a youtli full of vain glory, and fond
of amusements as foolish as they were unbecom-
ing to a descendant of the Puritans, of whom
better things might reasonably be expected.
Edith, before she raised her eyes to his face, felt
that there was reproof on his lips.
"Let this be the last time," said. he, "that I
shall be obliged to remind you that I do not ap-
prove of your continuing to cultivate an ac-
quaintance with Dudley Winthrop."
" I could not prevent him from walking by my
side," said Edith, "nor could I well be so rude
as to refuse answering him when he spoke to
me."
"It must be confessed," said Miss Persis —
the polite and deferential manner in which young
Winthrop had addressed her having somewhat
softened her feelings towards him — " that al-
though he is too much given to the vanities of
dress, and delights in vain and sinful amuse-
ments, he is not only a personable youth, but in
his behaviour is civil and mannerly to his superi-
ors. Yet I would not have it understood that I
think him a proper acquaintance for one so
young and thoughtless as Edith."
" That last remark was well timed," said the
governor. " Edith, you may retire."
Edith, for the first time, raised her blue eyes
to the f;\ce of her reprover, and making a grace-
ful curtsy, left his presence. When in her own
room, she quickly fastened the door, and drew
from her pocket the note given her hy Dudley
Winthrop. It said :
" Meet me to-morrow, dear Edith, at my sis-
ter's, some time between two and four o'clock,
as I have something important to say to you. I
shall leave the place at five.
Dudley Winthrop."
"What shall I doV was the question she
asked herself, after having read the note. " Shall
I venture to disobey my guardian, and meet
Winthrop'?"
She had much that she wished to say to him
— much that he ought to know — and he also had
something important to communicate to her.
She might not have an opportunity to see him
again for months — perhaps, never. The strug-
gle in her mind was a long and severe one, but
at last, she decided to sacrifice inclination to the
duty she owed to her guardian. She accordingly
wrote the following answer to the note which —
should no other opportunity offer for sending it
— she determined to entrust to the care of Deb-
orah, her aunt's waiting-maid, and confide in
her generosity not to betray her :
" I cannot meet you, Dudley — you should not
ask it of mc. The governor was angry with mc
for even allowing you to walk part way from
church liy my side, although — owing to the pres-
ence of Aunt Persis — he must have known that
no confidential conversation could pass between
us. He told mc in a manner much too peremp-
tory to be agreeal)le to my feelings — and wlilch,
according to my mind, savored strongly of do-
mcKtie despotism notwithstanding he goes so
strong for liberty — that henceforth, our acquaint
ance must cease. To disobey him would sulijeet
me to much discomfort, hereafter — more, I think,
as you will be willing to admit, than I should
venture to incur for the sake of an interview,
however great the pleasure which it might atford.
If you have anything to say to me which it is
important I should know, write by the bearer of
this. . Edith Stanfield."
Early in the morning the missive was con-
veyed to Winthrop, by Deborah, who promised
faithfully to be silent concerning it. In compli-
ance with her request, he wrote a few lines in
answer, briefly stating that he had entertained
thoughts of returning to England, in a ship
which would sail from Boston in a few weeks,
and that he had hoped to induce her to consent
to a private man*iage, in order that she might
accompany him. " I have, however," he went
on to say, " since the receipt of your letter, aban-
doned the plan altogether; and, as in conse-
quence of the difficulties with the Indians, I find
that four companies arc to be raised, I shall vol-
unteer as a private soldier, when maybe I shall
have the opportunity to let the governor see that
long hair and a silken doublet will not cause me
to turn my back upon the enemy, and that even
if I did once on a certain time dance to the
sound of a viol round a May-pole, that my feet
will not prove less nimble when I am called to
march to the more martial music of a drum and
fife, against the foe. God bless you, dear Edith,
and grant that we may soon meet under happier
auspices. D. W."
On reading Winthrop's letter, Edith almost
repented not having consented to the interview.
On reflection, however, she felt glad that he was
willing, now that danger was to be apprehended
from the wild sons of the forest, to place himself
in a situation which would show those who con-
sidered him vain and frivolous, that he was not
behind the bravest in true courage ; for her own
faith in his bravery was firm and undoubting,
based as it was, on a true knowledge and just
appreciation of his character.
The very next day after the departure of
young Winthrop, Miss Persis told Edith that
one Jotham Dunstin, who was commissioned to
act as ensign in the anticipated hostilities, would
dine with them.
"He is a sober-minded youth," she said;
" and though not so personable as to be likely to
recommend himself, at first sight, to the favor of
a damsel inclined to value the casket more than
the gem contained therein, will, nevertheless, as
I believe, make an excellent husband. He
moreover, besides his many sterling qualities,
has a goodly inheritance in the land of his
nativity."
" AVhich, if converted into pounds sterling,*'
said Edith, "and weighed in the balance against
his sterling qualities, would, I suspect, cause the
latter to kick the beam."
"It does not become you, niece Edith, to
s])eak thus concerning one who has a high place
in the estimation of the chief rulers, to say noth-
ing of my unworthy self. Yet, humble as I am,
you will do well not to slight my counsel, when
I advise you to treat the worthy ensign with
great consideration and respect."
" Did you say his name is Dunstin ?"
" Yes, Ensign Jotham Dunstin."
"I think I have seen him. Is he not round-
shouldered?"
"I cannot say that his shoulders are exactly
straight."
" His complexion is what may be termed a
little muddy, I think."
" It is not clear red and white, like a baby-
faced girl's."
"His hair is not black, I believe."
" No, no — I cannot say that it is."
" But a kind of tow color, if I remember
right."
"What does it signify, whether his hair is
black or tow color?"
" His eyes are green, I believe — a \crj good
color for a number of things I might name,
though I must confess I am not partial to green
eyes."
" His eyes, let me tell you, niece Edith, were
made to see with, and 1 believe they answer
the purpose they were made for."
" And his nose, if I mistake not, in shape re-
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING P.OOX COMPANION.
167
semblcs an owl's beak, while Iiis whole counte-
nance, taken together, has a look of profound
wisdom, equal to that which distinguishes this
grave and solemn bird."
" Methinks you show neither the wisdom nor
the good nature becoming a damsel who has
been carefully educated, in seeking to throw rid-
icule on Ensign Duustinon account of his looks,
for is he not as he was made ?"
" I cannot say that I think he is ; for his mean
and grovelling passions, above all, his h}'pocrisy,
have set their impress upon features which, if
lighted up by a truly noble mind, would, at
least, cease to be repulsive."
" Vou were ever prone to be obstinate, and
with such it is not profitable to argue. Even
should I request you to array yourself in proper
apparel, it is no ways likely that you will see fit
to comply."
"And what apparel, aunt, do you consider
proper for so great an occasion as meeting En-
sign Jolham Dunstin ?"
"Plain and nch ; plain and rich. No furbe-
lows— no gewgaws."
"I will certainly obey your request as respects
the plainness of my dress; not, however, on ac-
count of the hypocritical ensign, bat because I
have little heart to wear ornaments of any kind."
"Ah," said Miss Persis, shaking her head,
''your heart is going out to that vain young
man, wlio is not worthy to be named in the same
breath with the worthy ensign."
Ensign Dunstin had already arrived when
Edith entered the parlor. He rose at her en-
trance, and made a stiff, awkward bow, and dis-
tending his already wide mouth with what he
doubtless intended for a winning smile, exhibited
teeth, which certainly had no claim to be likened
to pearls.
At dinner the conversation turned mostly
upon the impending war with the Pequods; yet
he found opportunity to interlard his own share
of it with a plenty of those cant phrases, not un-
freqaently made use of by those whose claims to
real sanctity fall far below their professions.
Now and then, he cast an oblique glance at
Edith to note the effect of his remarks, but as
her thoughts were with the absent rather than
the present, he could gather little in the expres-
sion of her countenance flattering to his vanity.
He was not, however, one to be easily disheart-
ened, and he warmed up his courage by men-
tally repeating the ' aphorism : " Faint heart
never won fair lady."
Edith felt inexpressibly relieved when the
time ca,me that she could leave the table. An
hour aftei-ward, from her chamber window, she
saw Ensign Dunstin mount his horse — not ex-
actly in the stjde of " a feathered Mercury " —
preparatory to his departure. She quickly
screened herself behind the window curtain just
in time to save a parting look, which, in his
lover-Uke capacity, he thought proper to cast at
a window which, from a hint received from Miss
Persis, he knew to be in Edith's chamber.
Several skirmishes with the Pequods, at the
head of whom was the renowned Philip — soon
afterward took place, in which, as Edith heard
from a reliable source, Dudley Winthrop had
distinguished himself for his bravery. But the
enemy still remained unconquered. The in-
domitable spirit of their brave leader seemed to
animate the whole tribe.
A number of days had passed quietly away,
and it was rumored that King Philip liad left the
acene of warfare, and withdrawn to Mount
Hope. This was not considered an auspicious
omen by those acquainted with the peculiar na-
ture of Indian tactics, and about fifty soldiers —
among whom was Dudley Winthrop — the com-
mand of whom was given to Ensign Dunstin,
were sent a number of miles distant from the
main body, to keep watch on an elevated site.
It was partially shaded with trees, and except
on one side, which was thickly wooded, com-
manded an extensive view of the surrounding
country.
It was nearly three o'clock the second day,
and there was as yet no signs of the enemy.
They were growing weary and less vigilant,
when suddenly the silence was broken by the
shrill war-whoop, and the next minute a cordon
of red warriors were seen surrounding the base
of the hill. They commenced ascending with
rapid strides, and as they in numbers exceeded
the Americans neai'ly fomfold, they contem-
plated an easy victory. Dunstin, the commander
of the Americans, was at once panic-stiuck, and,
instead of attempting to repulse them, took ad-
vantage of the confusion and run for his life.
Some of the soldiers were about to follow his
example, wlien the voice of Dudley Winthrop,
in loud and clear tones, was heard issumg the
necessary orders. The soldiers, by rallying
round him, recognized him as their leader.
According to orders, they reserved their fire till
each shot would tell, and then, before the smoke
had dispersed, rushed impetuously down the liiU
in the direction where lay the main body of the
army. By their weight and velocity, they broke
through the living circle hy which they were
surrounded, and reached the foot of the bill un-
harmed. The movement was so sudden and so
unexpected, as, for a time, utterly to disconcert
the foe. It was not long, however, before, as
by a simultaneous impulse, they rushed forward
in hot pursuit. But the Americans had already
gained the cover of the piece of woods which, a
short time previous, had sheltered the Indians;
where, adopting the savage mode of warfare,
several among the foremost of their pursuers
met death from unseen hands. Others, as they
pressed forward, met with a similar fate, and
they began to imagine that the whole force of
the Americans was concealed in the woods.
They were seized with disraaj', and the fear of
death fell upon them. Even the voice of their
leader — as in clear, cheering tones, it tlu-illed on
the air — could not revive their courage. They
turned and fled, all save a small band of the
more brave and daring. These would have
rushed into the woods, but were restrained by
Philip.
" Do not throw your lives away," said he ;
"before another moon they will be needed."
Dunstin, who, as has been mentioned, fled the
moment he became aware of the proximity of
the enemy, hastened with all speed to join the
main body of the Americans.
"I only have escaped to tell you," were his
words, as panting for breatii he entered the
camp.
He was immediately surrounded by eager
inquirers.
"Are all your companions slain?" said an
officer.
"All slain or earned into captivity. Others
besides me might have escaped, had it not been
for the fool-hardiness of a certain graceless youth
named Dudley Winthrop. I could have brought
my brave soldiers off in safety had it not been
for him ; but he, amongst the rest, has paid or
will pay the penalty of his rashness. If he has
not bit the dust, he will burn at the stake."
"But what is that I see yonder?" said the
officer. " Is it not the flag which you bore with
you from the camp ?"
"It is — it is! I cast it away, and the red
heathen have found it and are bearing it in tri-
umph to our camp, where, by their numbers —
wdiich are like the sands of the sea-shore — they
will utterly overwhelm us."
" I think you are mistaken, Dunstin. As near
as I can make out through the cloud of dust
which encompasses them, I should say that they
are the identical band of soldiers you led hence."
" You are right," said Sergeant Trueman,
" and Dudley Winthrop is at their head. I
could tell him among a thousand."
In a few minutes, Winthrop and his fellow-
soldiers aiTived and were welcomed with the
warmest demonstrations of joy.
" If powder was not as precious as the gold of
Ophir," said the commanding officer, shaking
hands with Winthrop, " we would have wel-
comed you with a salute ; for, according to tlie
tidings brought by Dunstin, we never expected
to see any of you again."
"Dunstin is a coward," said one of the sol-
diers, " and if he had his deserts, he would have
his ti'ue character branded on his forehead."
"In his huriy to escape," said another, "he
ran against rae and pushed me down."
" You may abuse me as much as you please,"
said Dunstin ; " I only acted the pax't of a pni-
dent, discreet man. Had I done otherwise than
I did, my brains might have been knocked out
with a tomahawk."
" Which would have been no great achieve-
ment," said Sergeant Trueman, " if they are in
proportion to your courage."
"I might answer a fool according to his folly,"
said Dunstin ; " but as a prudent, discreet man,
I shall forbear."
When the governor was informed of Dunstin's
cowardice, and the bravery and good conduct of
Dudley Winthrop, he was not a little excited.
While he was extremely angry with Dunstin,
bis self-complacency was a good deal wounded
by having erred in judgment concerning Dudley
Winthrop. Dunstin was at once degraded from
his rank, and the honor he had worn so un-
worthily was bestowed on Winthrop.
"Who could have thought," said Miss Persis,
who, having just received a letter from her kins-
man, the governor, " that Jotham Dunstin would
have shown such a light pair of heels '.'"
" The worthy ensign has not been dancing
round a May-pole, I trust," said Edith, looking
up demurely from the linen rufile she was hem-
stitching.
"No, he has been guilty of what may, in one
sense, be considered even worse than that. He
fled from the enemy, and exhorted his men, as
they valued their lives, to follow his example —
whereupon, Dudley Winthrop caused the sol-
diers to array themselves for battle, and put
himself at their head. Many of the enemy were
slain, but he and his men escaped unscathed,
and made good their retreat to the camp, where
they were received with much rejoicing. Tlie
very next morning the title of ensign was taken
from Dunstin and given to Winthrop, and truly,
of the two, he will make the most personable-
looking officer."
" But you are not going to blot the ex -ensign
out of your books for setting a proper value on
his life — are you, aunt ?"
" I did not say that I was going to blot him
out of my books; but I will say, that I could
never abide a coward. But there is no time to
be lost, for the governor has sent word that we
may expect him to supper, and that several offi-
cers who have distinguished themselves for their
bravery will come with him."
" Who are they V
"He does not mention their names, but re-
quests that the entertainment may be as good as
the short notice will permit."
Edith felt a strong presentiment that Win-
throp was to be one of the guests. She was not
disappointed. He was no longer under the
cloud of her guardian's displeasure, but among
those he delighted to honor. As for Miss Persis,
she was full of his praises.
"It does my heart good," said she, "to see
him bearing the standard. It really seems to
me as if he was made on purpose for an ensign."
In this, however, she was mistaken, for very
soon afterward, he was promoted to the rank of
major.
Before the expiration of the year, there was a
bridal at the governor's. Sliss Persis had never
b;fore, on any occasion, so fully realized her
importance. Everything seemed to require her
direction and sui}erintendeuee, from Edith's
bridal robes down to a pigeon-pie. She took
especial pride in compounding a huge loaf of
wedding-cake, according to a recipe of her own
invention. She was even tempted into the weak-
ness of placing a piece under her pillow to
dream upon. She intended to have kept it a
profound secret; but having dreamed of Deacon
Southcote, a forehanded widower, she could not
forbear telling Edith her dream, remarking,
when she had finished, that she should not won-
der if before long the governor was* obliged to
procure another housekeeper. " But don't say a
word about it, for your life," said she. Edith
promised silence on the subject, and just then
the voice of the Eev. Hugh Peters was heard
below.
" There, the minister has come," said Miss
Persis. " Major Winthrop has been here this
half hour; and as soon as Susey brings the white
rose for your hair, you will be ready to go
dowTi."
A few friends were present to witness the mar-
riage ceremony ; and all agreed that the young
major and his bride were the handsomest couple
that had ever been married in the place.
[Written for Gleason'e Pictorial.]
MY SWEET ROSAKELIiE.
BY J. ALFORD.
To sirg thy bright beauties, dear maid,
Asks language my tongue cannot frame ;
In Tirtuc's chaste graces arrayed,
The purest of passions they claim ;
Believe me, sincere is the tale I would tell,
Then smile on your lover, my sweet Rosahelle,
To tell how I love thee, sweet fair,
My miud can no image supply ;
lu secret I dwell on my aire,
And approach thee alone with a sigh ;
Believe that fond sigh for the tale I would tell,
And smile on your lover, my sweet Rosahelle.
Scorn not to be bettered by the good example
of any one.
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
MY YOUTHFUL DAYS.
BY J. HUNT, JR.
My youthful days, my youthful days,
I name them only but to praise ;
What pleasing memories round them cling,
When I attempt their joys to sing.
That sunny season was, to me,
A season of unceasing glee ;
For phantoms lured me on in ways
All strewed with flowers of youthful days.
Time then on playful pinions flew,
And I no pain or sorrow tnew ;
For hope was painted in the rays
Which beamed to bless my youthful days.
The wants, the cares, which haunt me now,
And leave their traces on my brow,
Were then usurped by harmless plays.
And other sports of youthful days.
Then, too, I longed and prayed that time
Would speed the morn of manhood's prime ;
But age presents such woful ways,
I sigh again for youthful days.
I cannot tell the reason why
That riper years should dim life's sky ;
But ^o it is, — and thus the lays
I sing, are for my youthful days.
PLEASURES OF READING IN YOUTH.
The greatest pleasure in life is that of reading
while we are young. I have had as much of
this pleasure perhaps as any one. As I grow
older, it fades ; or else, the stronger stimulus of
writing takes of the edge of it. At present, I
have neither time nor inclination for it; yet I
should like to devote a year's entire leisure to a
course of the English novelists ; and perhaps
clap on that sly knave, Sir Walter, to the end of
the list. It is astonishing how I used formerly
to relish the style of certain authors, at a time
when I myself despaired of ever writing a single
linej Probably this was the reason. It is in
mental as in natural ascent — intellectual objects
seem higher when we look down from any given
elevation above the common level. My three
favorite writers about the time 1 speak of were
Burke, Junius and Kousseau. I was never
weary of admiring and wondering at the felici-
ties of the style, the turns of expression, the re-
finements of thought and sentiments ; I laid the
book down to find out the secret of so much
strength and beauty, and took it up again in de-
spair, to read on and admire. So 1 passed
whole days, months, and I may add years ; and
have only this to say now, that as my life began,
so I could wish that it may end. — llazlit.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SADNESS.
BY P. W. RUSSELL.
In my Irosom sorrow reigneth,
Soul and sense are sick with care ;
Bitterly my heart complaineth
At the load it needs must bear.
0 there are, amid earth's pleasures,
Hours of bitter gloom .and grief;
When her dearest worldly treasures
Bring us, sorrowing, no reUef.
When the soul, o'erwhelraed with saxlness.
Calls on earthly aid in vain,
To restore its wont«d gladness.
To revive old joys again.
Ay, our joys, like snow flakes falling
On the ocean's sleeping wave,
A moment heed our spirits calling,
But to find a speedy grave.
Then 0 let, since earth no cheering
Proffers to the saddened breast,
Lot our hearts those realms be nearing
" Where the weary are at rest."
1 »■» >
FORTITUDE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
Let him not imagine, who aims at greatness,
that all is lost by a single adverse cast of for-
tune : for if fortune has at one time the better of
courage, courage may afterwards recover the ad-
vantage. He who is prepossessed with the assur-
ance of overcoming, at least overcomes the fear
of failure ; whereas, he who is apprehensive of
losing, loses, in reality, all hopes of subduing.
Boldness and power are such inseparable com-
panions, that they appear to be born togetlier ;
and when once divided, they both decay and die
at the same time. — Vemi.
DEATH OF 3IEN OF SCIENCE.
Sir Charles Blagden died in his chair while
taking coffee with Guy Lussac and Berthollet,
and that so silently that there was not a drop
spilled from the cup in his hand. Dr. Black
also died so composedly, that the milk he was
drinking from a spoon was all preserved. Dr.
WoUaston watched with scientific interest the
gradual failure of his own vital power. Dr.
Cullen whispered in his last moments : " I wish
I had the power of writing or speaking, for then
I would describe to you how pleasant a tiling it
is to die." — Dr. Denby.
168
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
■I^fe "^^^
VIEW OF THE TOWN OF OWEGO, N. Y.
SCENES IN NEW YOKK.
A group of natural and artificial wonders more
varied and niag:nificent than at Portage, N. Y.,
w not to be found in this land of sublime scenery
and improvement. It is destined to be a Mecca
of travel, only to be classed with the White
Mountains, Niagara and the Mammoth Cave.
No descriptive language will appear exaggerated
to one who visits the scene, or studies the meas-
urements and drawings now presented. These
do not tell half the story; a complete account
would require a guide book of pen-and-pcncil
sketches. The small village of Portage lies on
tlie Genesee River, at a point Avhere it enters a
stupendous gorge, which continues seventeen
miles, in a north-east direction, to Mt. Morris.
Here it flows into the famous Genesee Valley,
which extends from the young city of Dansville
to Rochester, and is a level lake of rich farms
and shaded meadows, that are said to resemble
English park scenery more than anything in our
countiy. The river makes its farewell oration
at the Rochester Falls, thirty miles north of Mt.
Morris. To begin back, just below Portage vil-
lage is a noble aqueduct of the Genesee Canal ;
this is built of hewn limestone, and is much like
the High Bridge at Harlaem, in size and appear-
ance. Passing this and advancing into the river-
gulf, with the Genesee on one hand, the canal on
the other, and two hundred and fifty feet of
wooded declivity enclosing both, a few rods walk
on the tow-path brings you suddenly to the new
bridge of the Buffalo and New York City Rail-
road, now nearly completed. The iirst and last
look at this bridge must be one of dumb amaze-
ment. It is the Ci*ystal Palace of all bridges.
NEW RAILROAD BRIDGEj AT PORTAGE, N Y
How mortal ever conceived, or, designing, dared
to carry it into execution, passes our comprehen-
sion. Two hundred and thirty-four feet high,
eight hundred feet long, it lifts an immen-ie net-
work of timber, as if a whole village of house-
frames and rectangular streets were raised up
and set perpendicularly on edge. The first fall
of the river, a sidelong, broken descent of sixty
feet, is a few steps below the structure, and visi-
ble from its top, long before reaching which the
ascending mist is dissipated. Of this fall and
the bridge, you have a near view at one glance
in the engravings herewith represented. One
and a half million feet of timber, being the pro-
duct of two hundred acres of land, together with
thirty tons of iron spikes, were required for this
climax of modem engineering. The cost is es-
timated at SI30,000. The work has nearly
reached its completion, pending which, the rail-
road passengers are taken in carriages two miles
around from one end of the bi'idge to the other.
A very comfortable hotel has been erected at the
eastern extremity. This railroad — the *' Buffalo
and New York City" — is almost an air-line be-
tween the two cities of its title; it leaves the
northern road at Attica and unites with the Erie
Railroad at Hornellsville. Travellers can leave
New York by the evening express, spend a part
of the next day at Portage, and arrive at Buffalo
early the next evening. Below the monster
bridge and its water-fall, the river-chasm widens
into a deep basin of hills, with a pond in the
centre, and the second fall — a descent of eighty
feet — at the lower extremity, as may be seen in
the large sketch of Portage Fall. This grand
natural temple of cliffs, has thus at each end an
organ with a shining range of silver pipes ; on
the left side are several galleries in the shape of
canal aqueducts of wood, built to avoid the in-
cessant slides of quicksand ; and, at the upper
entrance, the six-story bridge furnishes fifty ros-
trums for as many orators. All the presidential
mass meetings of the present campaign might be
here congregated on one occasion, and much
trouble saved thereby. Connected with the lower
falls is a singular semi-circular chasm, and, at
its base, a cave, worn by water, which, as a mat-
ter of course, has been afflicted with a Satanic
name ; it is of difficult access. Here begin the
imposing precipices of three hundred feet in
height, forming, at this point, a mighty amphi-
theatre, around the eastern brink of which winds
the canal, protected by a stone parapet. A gi-
gantic tunnel was first constructed, and still re-
mains in part ; but the rock proved so insecure,
that the overhanging roof was thrown off, at
great expense, into the river, and the bed of the
canal laid in cement. We regret a want of time
to include any of these striking objects in our
sketches. Nearly the whole array of wonders
could be brought into one view from a high point
on the western bank, where the artist Cole, when
this scenery was in its pristine wildness, sketched
for a very large autumnal picture, now in the
possession of Senator Seward. Some distance
below the places now described, is a third fall,
very grotesque in its features, and made remark-
able by a tall natural tower, left by the wearing
of the river, and surmounted by a crown of foli-
age. By way of contrast with the mammoth
bridi^c, ji view is presented of the "Bridge," rc-
iiowTicii I'or the *' Letters from under" it, written
by Mr. Willis, while a resident at " Glen Mary."
The picture gives the scene as it is, and not as
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
169
VIEW OF THE POUTAGE FALLS; N. Y.
unrecognizably glorified by Bart-
lett's pencil, in Virtue's London edi-
tion of the Letters, nor as magnified
and mistified in the lithograph vig-
nette of the " Glenmary waltzes,"
composed by the poet's brother.
In these, the lawns are ten acre
lots, the brooklet a river, and the
bridge a series of stone arches. —
The original is far more pictur-
esque. Indeed, no one will be dis-
appointed in the quiet beauty of
Glenmary, with its shrubbery, no-
ble trees, meadows, and a road-
side grove that seems but yesterday
to have felt the pruning hand of its
former owner. It is a fit home for
a poet who was most kindly spo-
ken of by his sometime neighbors
and our companions in this visit —
the hospitable occupants of " Glen-
Betsey. But there is a mournful
impression in looking at the decay-
ing or overgrown vestiges of taste-
ful care. The bouse is weather-
worn, and only in part inhabited ;
the piazzas crumbling; the carriage
and foot-paths but faintly traceable;
the small latticed bridges in the
grove and up the glen (more Chi-
nese in size than shape), and the
rural seats, have the melancholy
air of long neglect; and the sun-
flecked shades that once fluttered
over gay guests, have deepened to
a thick-leaved night, " dark as Er-
ebus." And this sad aspect has its
climax in the little lonely grave of
the poet's child, far up the long ra-
vine above the house,and to which
we had access by the old, wide,
winding, beautiful path, now new-
ly mown and trimmed for a picnic
party of the day before our excur-
sion. This spot is two miles from
the half-way stopping place of the
Erie Railroad — the glorious valley
and beautiful village of Owego,
whereof an accurate representation
is given on page 168, It is the
best prospect of the village, though
including neither the railroad
buildings, nor the boldest of the
mountains that encircle the town.
The highest of theic, Mt. Frederi-
N. P. WILLIS S LATE COUNTUy SEAT, GLEN MARY. AT POUTAGEj N. Y.
fca, commands a vast map of hill,
river, and island, quite Swiss in its
character, and to be found, well
rendered, in some volume of en-
gravings. Happy are they who
summer in this Berkshii'e-Hke val-
ley, become acquainted with the
cultivated society of Owego, and,
especially, who enjoy the elegance
and luxury of the "Awaga House,"
the prominent building in our
sketch, and a new, first-class hotel.
It ought to be mentioned with par-
ticular honor, in a region where
the traveller is so often lodged and
fed poorly. Mr. and Mrs. Chase
are a modellandlord and landlady,
and Judge Avery, whose residence
is seen on the right, ought to be
handed down to history as the one
to whom credit is due for naming
the hotel according to the true or-
thography of the Indian name of
the village — Aicaga. The river is
the musical Susquehanna, which
so took the ear of Coleridge in his
days of radical dreaming. Let it
be noted that the American abor-
igines have strange successors in a
party of gipsies, lately encamped
a little south of Owego.
The town of Owego, itself, is a
beautiful location, the capital of
Tioga county ; it is watered by the
Susquehanna river and Owego
creek, and contains some public
buildings and presents many scenes
of interest. We take pleasure in
laying, from time to time, before
our readers such sketches of the
scenery of our land as awaken the
special notice of the lovers of na-
ture. !No place in the world offers
finer or grander views than are
spread out over the broad extent
of our domain. History has in-
vested particular spots of the old
world with a sort of sacred interest,
from their antiquity and incidents
connected with them ; but when
time shall chronicle its annals of
our own land, it will have register-
ed scenes and events nowise behind
those of otlier lands either in their
interest or importance.
170
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for aioiwon'M I'lctorial.]
TIMS AUBURN TKJOSS.
DT P. 0. BVLVANUS UURLDDT.
[Plensant, Edna, ay, ponwlvoly plcftBivnt arc tbo tender
nicniorica Imiiging so felicitouHly around tliiw chorlHlied
bruid— a happy tribute, tiikeo from its wiHter tronaes, and
braided by your own pule liandH. It in replot-o with loved
tbenies of meditation ; it caiis to mind the many halryon
mouientB wo havo piinsed together— momontfi tliat have
fled, lilto the dove of the patriarch, nftvor more to return.
In the " Volume of I'leasant Memorica," our communion
is written in living buds.]
Tribute flWGet,with memories bland,
IJmided by atTection's band,
Thou dost luiid my spirit bacic
O'er life'H dim, uncertain track ;
Where wound me, mid and slow,
Come the loved of long ago.
Thou bast played upon a brow,
Palo from very sadiiess now ;
In whose dark and languid eye,
Dreamy recollections lie ;
Pensive days and plea-sant hours,
Sweet with birds, and bland with flowers.
She it was that by my side,
Lonely sat at eventide ;
There we told our tales of yore,
Scenes that ravish never more ;
While around us, sad aud slow,
Came the loved of long ago.
In the morning's russet ray,
Lone we trod each garden way ;
There I culled for lier the flowers.
There we mused in shady bowers ;
Listening to the robin's soag,
Thinking of the past and gone.
Tribute sweet, with memories bland,
Braided by affection's hand ;
Nought on earth shall us divide,
Whatsoe'er my lot betide ;
Thou shiilt answer love's demands,
AVhen wo meet in spirit lands.
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
THE COLONEL'S LEGACY.
A TALE OF ACTUAL LIFE.
BY FRANCIS A. CUUIVAGE.
A soldier's life
Has seen of strife
In all its forms so mucb,
The world will deem
No gentler theme
The soldier's heart can touch.
Bohemian Girl.
On a pleasant day of the year 18 — , a column
of the French army was toiling along through
an undulating and wooded district of Germany.
As the vanguard entered a small village, a halt
was ordered, and a rest of two hours, rendered
necessary by a fatiguing march of twenty miles,
was allowed the troops.
As they stacked their arms, loosened their belts,
and unslung their haversacks, a sergeant of one
of the grenadier companies approached, and
saluted his captain.
" Well, sergeant, what do you want now V
asked Captain St. Leger, kindly, for the "old
moustache" was a favorite with all his officers.
"A conge of two hours> captain. Never fear
me ; I'll rejoin the column when the drum beats,
and the order to fall in is given."
" What's in the wind now V
" I have a little call to make," said the ser-
geant, awkwardly, and twisting the end of his
gray moustache.
"A thousand to one there's a lady in the
case."
" No lady, captain ; but a little girl I haven't
seen for seven years."
" By the cross of honor ! I half believe it's an
affair of the heart," cried the captain, laugh-
ing ; " and we must call you Sergeant Cupidon,
instead of Sergeant Caisar Pompon, flank com-
pany man of the grenadier general regiment.
Why, man, the girl will never fancy you with
that ugly sabre cut across the cheek."
" She saw it when it was fresh and bleeding,
captain ; and hlcss her little heart, she stitched
it together as cleverly as ourregimental surgeon,
"Dr. Tourniquet, could have done it, and patched
up that bayonet wound in the side, for we had
had warm work, though the affair was but a
skirmish, Peste! little did I think the Pefit Ca-
poral would ever havo made peace with these
Austrian dogs, and taken an Austrian wife to his
arms."
" Tut, tut, man ! you're one of the old grum-
lilcTB, and privileged to say what you please of
his imperial majesty Napoleon the First, yet at
heart you love him after all."
"Love him, mon cttpilainel" exclaimed the old
grenadier. " SacreUeu! the lant words upon
my li])s will bo ' Vive Nupohon!' But time is
marciiing on at double quick; can I have llio
leave I asked V
"Certainly; but be at yonr post in season.
Wo should be lost without Sergeant Pompon."
" Never fear mc, captain. Thanks and adieu,"
" I wonder," thought the grenadier, as, some
minutes afterwards, ho approached a small Init
neat and retired rustic inn, "if Margaret still
lives with tliat old brimstone, the Fran Hart-
manu ? Poor girl ! she Iiad a hard time of it.
Yet her suflerings, instead of hardening her
heart, made her sympathize the more warmly
with the woes of others. Tiiank Heaven and
my colonel, I had the means of alleviating lier
orphan's lot. Can she have received the aid I
sent her V
By this time he had reached the rustic inn, and
resting his musket against the wall, and deposit-
ing his knapsack on the bench, ho began to call
aloud lustily :
" Hallo ! house here ! who waits V
" Coming," cried a smart waiter, in a white
jacket, issuing from the porch. " What's want-
ed, my brave-fellow '?"
" Nothing of you, my brave fellow. I want
your mistress."
Sha'n't I take charge of your knapsack?"
asked the smart waiter.
" No," growled the soldier, in so savage a tone
that the smart waiter jumped six feet backwards
and disappeared into the inn.
" If he knew what this old knapsack contains,"
muttered the old soldier, " the jackanapes would
have been readier yet to take charge of it. But
now for the old Fran ; let's sec if she holds her
own still."
In place of the old Frau, however, there ap-
peared a pretty young woman of twenty-two,
neatly dressed in white, and wearing a beautiful
lace cap adorned with cherry-colored ribbons.
" What are your wishes, my good man V she
said, smiling pleasantly.
"Can it be !" exclaimed the soldier. "No —
yes, it surely must be ; is this Madamoiselle
Margaret?"
" The same, at your service," answered the
pretty hostess, curtseying; "landlady of the
Red Lion Inn."
" 'Cre jiom de d'leu!" cried the soldier; "what
a fine young woman you've grown."
" You seem to know me," said the pretty land-
lady, blushing, and eyeing her guest narrowly.
" Have we ever met before V
" Have we met!" exclaimed the soldier. " On-
ly hear her. Look !" he continued, dashing his
heavy bear-skin cap to the ground. "Look on
this rugged countenance. Don't you remember
this scar?"
" Gott in Himmd!" cried the landlady. "This
must be my old friend Sergeant Ca;sar Pompon,
of the grenadiers."
" The same, Margaret. Time has altered
both of us — you for the better, I for the worse.
But I tmst our hearts are still the same ; I can
answer for mine."
"But how came you in these parts again?"
asked the pretty landlady, when she had recover-
ed from her surprise.
"A simple affair. The division to which I
have the honor to belong is under marching
orders for Bavaria. Our route lay directly
through this valley, and I flew to greet my old
benefactress, who took such excellent care of me
when I was left here wounded, and given up for
dead seven years ago. But tell me, how came
you the mistress of this pretty inn ?"
" And the garden and pasturage belonging to
it? I'll tell you; it's quite romantic. Two
years ago — "
"Yes; that was the time," interrupted the
sergeant.
" I was sitting on this very bench," continued
Margaret, " when a soldier made his appearance
suddenly, and asked ray name. On receiving
an answer, he handed me a sealed package, ad-
dressed to Margaret Uhland, and then disappear-
ed. I opened it, and judge of my astonishment
when I found it contained notes to the value of
six thousand francs, accompanied by these lines:
* To Margaret, a free gift from an old friend.' I
could not, nor can I now, conjecture the source
from which this treasure came, I, who thought I
had not a friend in tlie world."
" You forgot me, then, Margaret," said the
old soldier.
"No, Ciesar; I thought of you always, but
not in this connexion, for I knew you had noth-
ing but your pay. Well, about this time, the I
Frau Ilartmann died, and as there was no bidder
for th(! property, I made an oflcr, whicli was ac-
cepted, and I have Kincc conducted the establish-
ment fiuccessfiilly and jn-otitahly. I Iiave tried
to trace the soldier who was the messenger of
good news to me, but in vain."
"Yes, in vnin, of course," murmured the ser-
geant. "Poor St. Croix is no more! He fell
in a brilliant charge of cavalry. I was one of
the filing-party at his funeral, and wo gave liim
a rattling volley, I assure you."
"Y'oumust have known of this transaction,
then V* said Margaret.
" It'.s no use to keep up the disguise any long-
er," said the sergeant, laughing. "I sent you
the money, and I'm rejoiced to find you made
snch good use of it."
" My noble, generous friend ; how can I ever
repay you !" cried Margaret.
" Nonsense, girl ! what use were the notes to
mc ? They were too flimsy for cartridge-paper
even. They were of as little use to me as they
were to the colonel at the time he made me a
present of them."
" The colonel !"
" Yes, Colonel Lapien*e, as brave a soldier as
ever led his regiment into fire. You never could
make him believe that the post of a staff-officer
was in tlie rearof his command. 'My cliildren,'
he used to say — he always called us his children,
though some of us were old enough to have
fathered him, 'I ask no man to go where I am
nnwilling to lead.' And so he always headed us.
One day, in a sharp skirmish, he fell, riddled
with bullets. Y''ou should have seen the regiment
then, Margaret. A^'ery few of the enemy escaped
to boast the slaughter of our colonel. I came
back with four men, to see if we could do any-
thing to save him. ' Mes enfans,' said he, ' I
have got my discharge ; they are calling the
muster-roll on high, and I must answer to my
name.' Then he waved my comrades back, and
motioned me to approach. ' Sergeant,' said he,
in a voice just audible, * see that my body is in-
terred where I fell upon the field of battle.' I
promised to perform the duty. * I have no friend
left to mourn me,' said he, 'or to profit by my
death. To you, tlien, sergeant, I bequeath my
knapsack. It contains twelve thousand francs —
all I have picked up in the rough scramble of the
world.' He smiled on mc, folded his hands upon
his breast, and so he died like a true French sol-
dier, with the cannon booming in the distance,
and the soil quivering with the gallop of the caval-
ry as tliey pursued the flying enemy. I found
the money, and divided it into two portions —
one I sent to you by a trusty comrade, the other
I meant for my poor old father, a vine-dresser of
Grenoble. But he was dead, and there the mo-
ney lies still in my knapsack, useless trash, and
yet a constant source of care."
" You are quite a philosopher, sergeant," said
Margaret, drying the tears called forth by his
recital.
" Not exactly, Margaret," said the old soldier.
"I am no stoic, at any rate. Have I tliought of
you, Margaret, since we parted ? Yes, my dear
child ; you have been beside me in the roar of
battle, in the storm, at the bivouac, and on the
march. And now I behold you again, more
beautiful than ever. Margaret, I must out with
it — I love you !"
" You love me !" cried the pretty landlady,
astonished.
" Worship you — adore you ! And after seven
years absence, I have come back to say, Marga-
ret, will you marry me V
" Sergeant — dear sergeant, shall I be frank
with you?" said the landlady.
" Yes," cried the grenadier. " Out with it. I
am trained to stand fire."
" Then, frankly, I cannot man-y you."
" That shot struck somewhere about here,"
said the old soldier, sadly, placing his band on
his heart. "But no matter, I can easily divine
your motive ; I am a rough, old, weather-beaten,
gray-haired, war-scarred veteran ; you are young
and beautiful ; 1 was mad to think of your liking
me well enough to marry rac."
" Y''ou arc in error," said Margaret, hastily.
" You are worn out in honorable service ; I prize
your heart, the goodness of that irradiates yonr
countenance."
" Then yon love another,"
"Not exactly. When a mere girl, I was be-
trothed to my cousin, Fritz Steinforth, a peasant
born in the same village with myself, some
twenty leagues hence. As he grew up, his ardor
seemed to cool ; but we were both pooi', and that
alone would have prevented our union. But tlie
contract still existed, and so I have written to
him, informing him of my altered circumMtanccH,
and offering him my hand. Though some time
has elapsed, he lias taken no notice of my ad-
vances, so that I fear he ha^ forgotten me."
" Fmr he has forgotten you ! Then you still
love him,"
" Not that T am aware of," said Margaret,
blushing .slightly.
"Then if this master Steinforth were out of
the way, and renounced his claim, there might
be some hope for the oUl grenadier."
" Yes," answered Margaret, timidly, and look-
ing down.
"Laperhtte! you'll try to love me a little,
then."
" In that case I should try very hard to love
you a great deal, sergeant,"
" Enough said. Well, I hope that confounded
Fritz-what's-his-namc wont show his ugly face
here !"
" He's veiyliandeome," said the pretty land-
lady.
"Handsome, is he? Morhku! I'll spoil his
beauty for him !"
" You wouldn't quarrel with 7n?/ cousin, would
you, sergeant?" said the landlady, archly.
"I don't like these cousins," said the old sol-
dier. "One of 'em is always buzzing round a
pretty girl, like a bee round a rosebud. And if
anybody says anything, ' O, it's only my cousin V
Plague take the man that first invented cousins,
I say!"
" Well, excuse me, sergeant," said the land-
lady, gaily, " for a favf minutes. I'm going itito
the inn to prepare something nice for your break-
fast. // faut soigner les widens, as ^ou French
say. Au revoir."
" Must take care of the old 'uns, eh ?'* muttered
thesergeant to himself. " Shecan'tforgetmy age.
Sergeant Ca;sar Pompon, aint you an ass ? Can
you imagine that a pretty young woman can
content herself with your wrinkles and gray
locks, and that your campaign stories will inter-
est her year after year ? When I am a feeble
old man, she will still be a buxom woman.
And even if she says she loves me now, will it
not be gratitude, instead of affection, that
prompts the avowal ? I must be sure of her at-
tachment before I enlist in the ranks of matrimo-
ny. If not, right about face, and march, double
quick time. Hallo ! who goes there?"
The last exclamation was elicited by the ap-
pearance of a foot-passenger, a young peasant,
with blonde hair, and a rich sunburnt counte-
nance, attired in a blouse, and carrying a bundle
slung at the end of a stick.
" Halt there, comrade, and give the counter-
sign !" cried the sergeant.
The peasant stared at him with his great blae
eyes, and then smiled, disclosing a set of snow-
white teeth.
" The fellow is not ill-looking, who ever he
is," thought the sergeant. " I say, my fine fel-
low, you ought to be in the grenadiers."
"Eh?" said the countryman, opening his
mouth.
" Every fellow that stands six feet in his stock-
ings is born to be a great man. Why don't
you enlist?"
" I've no taste for soldiering," answered the
peasant, throwing himself on the bench.
" Afraid of gimpowder, eh ?" asked the ser-
geant.
" Not at all ; though I don't fancy it much.
I haven't seen as mnch of war as you have, Mr.
Soldier ; but I have been where bullets rained as
thick as hailstones. When the French attacked
Auerstadt, though I was a boy, I stood my
ground, though I had nothing but a scythe-blade
set on a pole."
"A very ugly weapon, and a heathenish one,
too," said the sergeant. " Yon clod-hoppers
make war like barbarians always. But, I say,
you look as if you'd had a long march this
morning."
" Some forty miles," said the peasant, care-
lessly.
"Forty miles! Bravo, ray dear fellow! you
were boni for the infantry. Why do you fight
against your destiny ? Y'ou must have urgent
business, however, to make you take a tramp of
forty miles before breakfast."
" My business is pleasure," answered the
peasant.
" You talk riddles, comrade."
" Wliy, you see, I came here," said the pea-
sant, " to see my cousin, the landlady of this inn."
" Your cousin. Mille toniicrrcs ! then you are
Fritz Steinforth."
GLEASON'S riCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
171
"The same, at your service."
"But what do you want with Margaret?"
" You see, Mr. Soldier, we were betrothed a
long while ago, and I suppose I ought to have
married her. But I was promised a place under
government — a rangership — with the prospect of
a rise in the world ; and my friend Maurice
Schwartz, who is steward of the Prince of Lich-
tenburg — Maurice is a deep and wise one, a long-
head, I tell you, — he persuaded me that a wife
■was a great drawback, a millstone round the
neck of a man who wanted to rise in the world."
" Very true," answered the sergeant. " Capi-
tal fellow, that Maurice Schwartz ; deserves to
be a licld-marshal ; we'll drink his health by-and-
by ; but forward, don't halt, move on !"
" Wei!," continued Fritz, "some time since,
Mai^aret wrote to me about her fortune, and
offered me her hand."
" You declined it?"
" No, I did nothing ; Mauiice told me I ought
not to accept, and I wavered. I did think of
writing her to break off the match."
" Well, why the deuce dida't you V
" I didn't want to break the poor girl's heart."
" Break her heart — nonsense ! There are
other men in the world," cried the sergeant. "I
can tell you a secret : she is loved by another."
" Loved bj' another !" cried the young peasant,
turning pale. " Good heavens ! can it be '?
Margaret, my betrothed !"
" Why, I thought you cared nothing for her,"
said the sergeant, eyeing him naiTowly.
"Maurice told me I didn't love her," said
Fritz, pressing his hand on his heart. " But
something here tells me — no matter. Yet stay,"
he added, with a bright smile ; " she cannot love
him."
" There you're mistaken," said the soldier.
" She dotes on him."
" Dotes on him !" repeated the peasant.
" Yes ; and more than that — she has mamed
him ! I think that last is a settler," added the
sergeant to himself.
" I will not believe it !" cried Fritz, dashing
his cap to the ground. " It is false."
" Halt !" cried the sergeant. " I've put a bul-
let through a fellow before this for doubting my
word."
" I repeat that it is false ! I will believe nei-
ther you nor any other man who asserts Marga-
ret's perfidy."
" Will you believe your own eyes and ears V
"Prove the assertion, and, of course, I shall
believe it," answered Fritz.
The sergeant hastened into the inn, and hav-
ing instructed Margaret how she was to act,
and exacted a promise that she would agree to
all he stated, he re-appeared from the Red Lion
with her hanging on his arm.
" Grood morning, cousin," said she, saluting
Fritz very coolly.
Fritz could make no answer — he was struck
dumb.
" Comrade," said the sergeant, " allow me to
present to you Mrs. Sergeant Pompon !"
" What !" cried Steinforth, furiously. " Is it
you who have robbed me of m}' treasure 1 Were
it not for your gray hairs — "
" Hush, Steinforth !" said Margaret, seriously.
" Remember you are speaking to my husband."
" And you, Margaret, who promised to he
mine, whose letter, offering me your hand, I
have worn next my heart. Perfidious woman!"
" Silence !" cried the sergeant. " Remember
you are speaking to my wife."
" You cared nothing for me," said Margaret,
bitterly. " You left my letter unanswered."
" It was because I was under the spell of a
mind and will stronger than mine — of a man
who could turn one round his little finger. He
persuaded me that I ought not to marn,' you.
But, though I wavered, I found, when I examin-
ed my heart, that I loved you better than life it-
self. True, I left your letter unanswered ; but
the moment I could leave home, I came in
person."
" Speak out," said the sergeant, in an agitated
voice ; " I permit you to speak freely. Did you
come here to accept her offer V
" I came here," said the peasant, " to tell her
that her offer was too generous — to tell her that
while she was rich, and I poor, I could not ac-
cept her hand. AVhat would she think of me,
after my delays and doubts, if I became her hus-
band as soon as she had come to a fortune ? I
came to say this, and to ask her if she could wait
till I, too, had made a little fortune, and could
claim her hand with honor."
" You are a fine fellow," said the sergeant.
dropping Margaret's arm, and shaking Stein-
forth warmly by the hand. " I have deceived
you on purpose to try you. Margaret is single
still ; I am not her husband, though I love her,
and have offered my hand. Let her choose be-
tween us.
" Steinforth," said Margaret, "you see before
you the man to whom I owe my fortune."
" She owes me nothing," said the sergeant.
" She saved my life, and I paid the debt very
shabbily by a parcel of bank notes that I had no
use for."
" Sergeant," said Margaret, in a faltering
voice, " if I were not betrothed to Fritz — "
" I release all claim to your hand," said Stein-
forth, with an effort.
"Then, sergeant," continued Margaret, "if
you will accept my hand, I will try to love you,
and to forget poor Fritz."
The eftbrt was too much for her, and she burst
into tears. Steinforth covered his face with his
hands to conceal his emotion.
"A thousand sabres!" said the sergeant,
drawing his sleeve across his eyes. " What
would my old colonel have said, if he had seen
Sergeant Caisar Pompon, an old moustache,
blubbering like a baby 1 Sucre toimeire I I
must put a stop to this. Ahem ! Madamoiselle
Margaret, I'm very much obliged to you for the
offer, but I cannot accept it. That's my decision,
and it's fixed as a general order."
" Then," said Margaret, with a grateful smile,
" Steinforth, I am yours."
" I cannot accept your hand," said the pea-
sant, firmly.
" And why not V thundered the sergeant.
" Ventrebleii 1 are you mad ? Must beauty go a
begging ? Zounds ! I've a great mind to give
you a drubbing."
"Margaret is rich, and I am poor," said the
peasant.
" Margaret has six thousand francs, and so
have you," said the soldier.
" What do you mean?" asked tlie peasant.
" Exactly what I say, comrade," cried the ser-
geant, opening his haversack, pulling out the
notes by handfulls, and thrusting them upon
Fritz. " There, there, take them all. My colo-
nel's legacy is well bestowed."
" I cannot receive this money," cried the
peasant.
" Very well," said the sergeant, coolly. " Then
give me back the notes, and I'll put 'em in the
kitchen fire."
After a long discussion, the old soldier com-
pelled the peasant to receive the money, and to
accept the hand of Margaret, and he had then
to listen to the profuse and grateful benedictions
of the happy pair.
Enough, enough, children," said he ; " my
gifts cost me nothing. Still, if you choose, re-
gard my money as a deposit, and then, if I sur-
vive the wars, instead of going to the Invalides,
I will come here, and pass my days by the fire-
side in winter, and on this bench in summer,
perhaps, recounting to your children the fortunes
of an old campaign. But if, as is more likely, X
follow my colonel to the next world, ere this
campaign is terminated, I ask you this : If ever
an old soldier, war-worn and foot-sore, halts at
your inn for repose and refreshment, let him
taste of your abundance, and rest beneath your
roof without charge, in memory of your old
friend. Sergeant Pompon."
Margaret and Steinforth promised faithfully
to fulfil his wishes. Then, seeing him put on
his knapsack, and resume his musket, they
urged him to tarry, but at that moment the
thrilling notes of the Marseillaise, played by a
full military band, announced that his regiment
had resumed the line of march.
"Hear you that, my children'?" cried the old
grenadier, drawing himself up to his full height.
"I must hasten to join the ranks. Adieu, chil-
dren, adieu ! Margaret, my love for you was a
sti-ange dream. I have awakened your friend.
Hark to the Marseillaise I That glorious music
reminds me that France is my mother, and glory
my mistress. Vive la France! M.ve Napoleon !
Adieu !"
The young couple watched him, with tearful
eyes, till he had disappeared in the distance.
Some months afterwards they heard, with deep
sorrow, that he had follen, as he pi;cdicted, and,
indeed, desired, on the field of battle.
Envv. — Envy may justly be called " the gall
of bitterness and bond of iniquity;" it is the most
acid fruit that grows on the stock of sin, a fluid
so subtle that nothing but the fire of divine love
can purge it from the soul. — Uosea Ballou.
[Written for Qleason's PictoriaJ.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. 1.
TRAVELLING IN TURKEY.
BY DR. JEROME V. C SMITH,
AOXaOR OF A "pilgrimage to EGYPT."
One of the peculiarities of Turkey is this —
that all land travel must necessarily be on the
back of a horse, ass, mule or camel. There is
not a carriage road in the empire smooth enough
to trundle a wheel-barrow. Paths are called
roads, and these are frequently so indistinct, even
on the great routes from one city to another, that
without a guide familiar with the way, it would
be quite impossible to find oxiy proposed place a
day's journey distant.
Provisions must be carried for the animals as
well as their riders, and apparatus, too, for cook-
ing— coffee, sugar, prepared meats, hard bread,
and fruits also. At night, the caravansaries are
either yards or hovels. In cities, on the con-
trary, there are immensely large buildings for
the accommodation of travellers.
It is a good precaution to procure, through the
consul or minister residing at Constantinople,
representing the traveller's country, a monstrosity
called a firman. It is an official document on
a large sheet of strong, coarse paper, bearing the
signet of the Sultan.
In case of rude treatment by the subjects of
the Sublime Porte, by showing the firman to the
first official to whom access can be had, he will
bow his head, stroke his black beard, smoke tre-
mendously, exclaim " Bissmillah ! God is great !"
and promise to do miracles in promotion of the
complainant's objects. Under the authority of
the firman, horses must be procured at a price
the government pays for them when pressed into
the public service for some temporary purpose.
Distances are reckoned by hours, and never by
miles or leagues — measurements of which the
Turks are profoundly ignorant. Usually, a
good horse will cost fifty cents a day in the inte-
rior— accompanied by a groom to take care of
him. When hired in cities, the cost is from one
piaster to two, by the hour. On completing the
route for which the horse was hired, it is custom-
ary, to make the muleteer — for a mule carries
the luggage, usually, a fee, under the name of
bucksheish. He bears the high-sounding title of
bswToudjee.
Couriers are always proffering their services,
but they are knaves by profession, and it is quite
easy to do without them — stipulate for a groom
who goes with the horses, who can speak two or
• three languages of the country. Italian is of
very considerable assistance, as scarcely a town
would be visited in a general exploration, in
which somebody could speak it. A good servant
of all work, an Armenian or a Syrian, who would
also officiate as cook, adds much to the comfort,
while it is economical.
Khans are very large one story buildings, rarely
two — surrounding a court. Passing through a
gate, which is closed at night, the animals are
unladen — always remaining with the saddles on,
however. Throughout Turkey, they are ham-
pered by fetters or tied with a halter, fed, and
the luggage taken into a dark, sometimes win-
dowless, apartment, opening into the court.
A series of small rooms are for the accommo-
dation of strangers, but mthout a particle of
furniture of any kind — not even a lamp, a cup,
or fuel is to bo had. The rooms are dusty, dirty,
and usually swarming with myriads of vermin.
Spreading the bedding brought on the mule,
the traveller sleeps, if he can, in the midst of bis
effects. In the morning a small fee is paid to a
guardian, but who has the money is a question,
since it is understood that khans, generally, are
pious gifts to the public.
Smyrna has several large khans, and Damas-
cus, the capital of Syria, possesses the best in
the East, in point of spaciousness. They exist
in various pai-ts of the Orient, and invariably
present the same general features.
The money of Turkey is a poor, debased coin-
age— half of the ostensible silver pieces being
mere fish scales in size and weight, with scarcely
an appreciable amount of silver in them. Turk-
ish gold coin is a little better, but that, too, is
wofully debased, and no more should ever be
taken than may be conveniently expended before
leaving the countiy.
Every one that is met begs for bucksheish,
whether he has been seen before or not. For
the sake of keeping on good terms with those
whom the traveller comes in contact, from fel-
lahs or farmers, to pashas or local governors,
presents are supposed to make friends. No pro-
vision for making friendships, however, in that
manner, is necessary. A pipe of tobacco goes
as far as a piaster. The more one gives in
money, the sharper the appetite of all who see
him, becomes for it. If it is once known that
the individual actually gives away gold or silver,
he is expected to repeat the operation.
The less show of means, the more secure for
the traveller. A plenty of very small change
facilitates business amazingly, as no one admits
readily, that he can change a piece — because a
hope is instantaneously raised that it may all bo
kept, if it cannot be exchanged for fractional
parts.
A piaster is equivalent to about five cents —
and forty paras make a piaster. There are half
piaster pieces, double piasters, and even six pias-
ter pieces. A purse is five hundred piasters. A
Spanish dollar varies from eighteen to twenty-
two piasters, in value, according to place — it be-
ing w^orth more in the interior where money is
scarce, than in seaports, or large trading centres.
Gold pieces of twenty piasters are in circulation,
but it is not profitable to carry them about on
jaunts, on account of the extreme difficulty in
breaking them up into smaller change.
All Turkey abounds with dogs in numbers
that bid defiance to enumeration. They are a
perpetual annoyance at night, on account of their
incessant barking, but rarely move about much
through the day. When a traveller enters a small
town or village, if in a Frank costume, the dogs
recognize him as a novelty at once, and set up a
tremendous barking, that is propagated from one
house-top to another, where they frequently re-
pose, as in Egypt, till the sun is down. A repe-
tition of the reception, in point of uproar, pur-
sues him on leaving the following morning.
Throughout the whole of the great city of Con-
stantinople, the dogs are surprisingly numerous,
sleeping by the sides of doors, on banks of filth,
and nursing litters of puppies where they are
most in the way. They are without masters,
and without names of course. Generally, they
are small in stature, of a dingy yellow,with sharp ,
thin jaws full of excessively wicked teeth, which
they arc disposed to show when disturbed.
It is at night, however, that they feel their own
influence, and take possession of the empire.
Tolerated as scavengers, the usual accumula-
tions which in American cities are carted out for
feeding swine, are thrown into the narrow lanes
for those poor, half-famished animals. Their
incessant hunger develops a ferocity that cannot
be tamed or subdued by kindness.
Horses and dogs, when left to themselves, in-
variably organize a form of government which is
severe in its requirements, and infractions are the
signal of death. In South America, a single
stallion, by an unknown process, takes sover-
eignty into his own keeping, and maintains his
dignity by the force of his heels. When old,
and almost blind, his honors are accorded to
him by a rising generation, nor are attempts at
usurpation presumed to be ever attempted, while
he is living. Dogs, on the other hand, do not
appear to acknowledge a king. They divide
themselves into sections, and district a city.
Each division keeps to its own territory, and
any attempt to trespass on the grounds of the
others, invariably leads to bloodshed, and not
unfrequently to the death of the offender.
An oligarchy and regal administration are
equally out of the question — their instinctive sys-
tem being unlike all others among animals, and
certainly bearing no nearer approach to human
combinations than the formations of tribes. Ko
one dog appears to be clothed with more author-
ity than another; and all, on the menaced or
depredated province, fight with equal ardor for
the defence of their common rights.
Egypt and Syria, in all the large towns, are thus
subdivided by the dogs. I have seen them lying
dead — the result of individual temerity, in run-
ning for luck on the property of other's. Alex-
andria and Cairo exhibit these curious traits in
the character of uncivilized dogs, to a remarka-
ble degree. Even some of the principal thor-
oughfares in Cairo and Constantinople, are ta-
booed by the dog;?^, so that those on one side dare
not run across the way to the other. Young
puppies get many a bloody ear from their elders,
before they learn their privileges, or comprehend
the rights of their superiors.
Througliout Turkey, therefore, it is unsafe to
go into a street after dark without a lantern,
without which a man might be instantly torn lo
pieces. The dogs are kept at bay by a light,
and that may be the reason why the law^ is im-
perative that no one shall go abroad after dark
without one.
All Turkish cities are gloomy — excessively so
in the evening. They are never lighted in any
manner, and besides, they arc extremely narrow,
and the houses high. Not even the foreshadow-
ing of a person can be seen before running up
against each other, to the astonishment of both
parties. There are no amusements whatever to
beguile the time, in Turkey, except in Caiio,
Constantinople, Alexandria and Smyrna. In
each of those cities, a few Italians have con-
trived to have dances, tmall concerts, and in
Constantinople an apology for a ihoatre for the
recreation of strangers. But they are poorly
sustained, command no talent, and consequently,
gain no reputation.
172
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAWING ROOM COMPANION.
MADAME liENRIETTE SONTAG,
COUNTKSH r>n ItOHRI.
In prcscntinfj our renders with a likeness
of this workl-ren owned singer, wc should cer-
tainly like to give a full account of the ro-
mantic life of this remarkable lady, who for
a number of years has sustniucd the rcjiuta-
tion of being the " legitimate queen of song.'*
But we can ill allnid sutliiiciii space to speak
of the three grand phasrs of her existence.
The unparalleled ciithiisiiisni that attended
her early career, rendered so difficult on ac-
count of her rivalship with Catalani, Mali-
bran, and Pasta — the lustre she slied over
the courts of Vienna, Berlin, and St. Pe-
tersburg, where she resided as the adored
■wife of His Exrcllcncy, Count de Rossi,
Aml>nssador and Minister Plenipotentiary of
tlio King of Sardiiiiu — and, lastly, the pious
resignation of the mother, who, to secure to
her children an independence so seriously
endangered through the disastrous effects of
the revolution of 1848, left the perfumed at-
mospiiere of royal and imperial courts, to
brave once more the stormy and fickle sea
of public opinion — to he again trimnphantly
seated on the throne, with tlie double crown
of art and virtue shining on her brow. No
artist has had so many biographies written
as the Countess ; the works of Heine,
Boerne, Theopilc Gautier, Goethe, Jules
Janin contain many sketches, full of inter-
est; Hector Berlia/,, Rellstab, Saphir, Escu-
dier have analyzed Iier artistical merits in nu-
merous criticisms ; Scribe has written on her
one of his most witty plays — the " Embassa-
dress," to which Auber has composed music,
so justly popular in both hemispheres ; and
we will not even speak of the tribe of poet-
asters, who, as the Countess Merlin says,
have made sonnets from the " tip of her fin-
gers down to her pretty foot." Henrictte
Sontag was born at Coblentz, on the Rhine,
in the year 1809, not 1803, as has been as-
serted in many biographical sketches. She
is of an artistic family ; and her parents
were persons of no mean celebrity. Henrict-
te early displayed extraordinary vocal and
histrionic abilities, and this decided her life
course. Her parents had her educated as an
operatic and concert singer. In her thir-
teenth year she was placed under eminent
teachers at Prague, where she remained un-
til she was fifteen, after which she studied
for several years with Feodor. Her fame
now began "to be spread abroad, and she be-
came the reigning star of the musical firma-
ment. She speedily was acknowledged the
greatest vocalist since the days of Catalani,
and crer.tel in France, Germany, and Eng-
land, an u iparailelcd //irore. She appeared
for the last time in " Semiramide," at the
Royal Theatre, Berlin, where took place an
open declaration of her marriage with the
Count Rossi, at the time Sardinian Ambas-
sador at Haag, when she retired into private
life, residing with her husband at the various
courts on the continent ; and her beauty, in-
telligence, genius, and goodness of heart.
caused her to eclipse the proudest dames that
basked in tlic refulgent rays of Imperialism,
and whtn, in the Fpring of '[SbO, it was an-
nounced that she had determined to resume
her professional career, the whole European
aristocracy were thrown into a state of in-
tense excitement, which was diangcd into re-
joicing when the news of her glorious tri-
umphs was received. The resumption of
her profession was occasioned by the total
wreck of her husband's property. The coun-
tess being extremely anxious that her cliil-
drcn should continue to enjoy the education-
al advantages that she deemed essential to
their future well being, resolved again to as-
sume the laborious duties which, twenty
years before, when she was a young and joy-
ous bride, she had laid aside forever — as sho
bad supposed and hoped. This is truly a
strange and enigmatical world ; and no one
can foretell the strange part he is to play in it.
Since 1850, Madame Sontag has sung in
London, Paris, and all the principal cities in
Germany, and her success has been singular-
ly great. The great masters of musical sci-
ence arc overwhelmed with astonishment at
the remarkable phenomenon presented of a
prima donna who, after an absence of many
years, resumed her profession with a richer
voice and more brilliant execution than she
originally possessed.
PORTRAIT OF MADAME SONTAG.
VICTORIA AND ALBERT BRIDGE.
"We present below a very fine and effective
picture of the Victoria and Albert Bridge.
From the village of Datchet, a bridge across
the Thames (built, curiously enougli, on one
side of iron, on the other of wood, the oppo-
site parishes originally not having been able
to agree as to material, and so each taking
its own), led to a path across the parklo
Windsor. The way was the mo.st direct, but
the path being in a cutting, divided the park
and interfered with her majesty's private
grounds. It was, therefore, resolved to take
down the old bridge, and build instead two
new ones — one higher up, the other farther
down, the river; and to give two public car-
riage-ways, instead of the old Datchet foot-
path. There was added, at the upper bridge,
from the private to the public portion of the
park between sixty and seventy acres; and
some land was gained along the margin of
the river. Our engraving shows the upper,
or Victoria Bridge — with which the lower, or
Albert Bridge, except the ornaments in the
spandrils and centre arms, is identical. The
bridge is a single pointed arch, 120 feet span,
and 19 feet 6 inches rise from the springings,
which correspond with the ordinary water-
line. It consists of five ribs, reduced gradu-
ally from 94 inches at the springings to 76
inches at the crown. Each rib consists of
seven castings bolted together with flanges.
The interior ribs are H shaped, 4 feet deep
at springing, .3 feet at crown. The weight of
each rib is about 26 tons. The engraving is
9. very fine one, and possesses much excel-
lence in effect.
VIEW OF THE VICTOIUA BKIi>GEj NEAR WINDSOP, ENGLAND.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL DHAWIXG EOOM COMPANION.
173
I'EEDEEICK GLEASON, Pkofrietoe.
MATURIN M. EALLOU, Editor.
CONTKNTS OF OUR NEXT NUJ»IBER,
" Guilt and Retribution," a tale of the Times of Itichard
ITT, by Miss Sarah JVI. Howe.
■ "Travels in Palestine," No. IV, relative to Nazareth, by-
Rev. i\ W. Holland.
" Allan Moore,*' a story, by Geo. Canning Hill.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. II, on the Character of
the Turks, etc., by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Autographs and Autography," No. Ill, by Willlam
Edw.ard Knowles, in which will appear the signatures of
Rev. Hosta Ballou, Eliza Leslie, Emma C. Embury, Han-
nah F. Gould, Sarah J. Hale, Mrs. C. M. Sedgwick, John
Neai and Park Benjamin.
"Where is gentle May?" verses, by F. C. Syltanus
HURLBUT.
" I met her in the festive crowd," lines, by Rebecca R.
PEERCE-
" The Departed," a poem, by John D. Johnsojj, M. D.
" Twilight Hour," verses, by Amanda M. Douglass.
"Love Concealed," verses, by Kenneth Sinclair.
" The Lonely Heart." lines, by Phila Evrle.
" Be Active," lines, by William T. Hilske.
"Lines to Lydia," by Caroline A. Hayden.
" Sonnet to Luellaoeine," by J. Starr Hollawat.
" Thou art gone toahy rest," verses, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" Spiiit Visitants," verses, by E. CuRTiSS Hine, U. S. N.
ILLTTSTEATIONS.
A picture of the Review of the Providence Marine Artil-
lery on Boston Common, by Governor Boutwell and Suite,
during the exercise of this fine corps, a few days since, in
their rapid and brilliant drill, after the style of Sherman's
Battery of Fljing Artillery. By our artist, Mr. Roivse.
A very excellent hkcneesof the late Count D'Orsay. the
intimate friend of Louis Napoleon, and the most famous
dandy and beau of the nineteenth century.
We shall give a very spirited picture of the Departure of
the Lizzie Webber, emigrant ship, from Sunderland, Eng-
land, being the tirst vesswl from that port with emigrants
that sailed for Australia.
Scene of the Commencement of the St. Andrews and
Quebec Railroad. A noble and magnificent scheme.
A picture will also be presented of the stupendous Tor-
toise, lately imported into England from India. Supposed
to be over 200 years old.
A series of pictures, b3' our artist, Mr. Warren, illustra-
ting, very beautifully, the Charlestown Navy Yard. First,
a very fine perspective view from the Navy Yard, looking
seaward. Second, a view of the spacious Parole Ground
and Barracks, for the corps of Marines always on duty-
Third, a view of the large and elegant building devoted to
the purpose of the Kopewalk. And fourth, an excellent
picture, giving a correct view of the Comaiodore'a House
and Gardens. Forming a series of line pictures.
A very accurate likeness will be given of Mrs. Ellis, the
English authoress, and well known writer upon matters
particularly interesting to her own sex, and pertaining to
domestic happincos.
A picture of the swiftest clipper in the world, the far-
famed American ship , Oriental, which has made the quick-
est pi^sage from China to England on record.
A series of pictures of the late Camp Meeting, at East-
bam, on Cape Cod, taken on the spot by onr artist, Mr.
Rosenbtrg. First, representiDg the Landing at Eastham,
a fine and spirited picture. Second, a characteristic scene,
entitled, a Prayer Meeting in a Tent. Third, a large view
exhibiting a comprehensive scene of General Exhortation
and Preaching on the Camp Grounds.
Tremoxt Temple. — This structure is rebuild-
ing rapidly. It is said that it will be finished in
November. The great hall, whose floor is to
cover tlie entire third story of the building, will,
it is said, equal in area the Boston Music Hall.
A superb organ, on a larger scale than any in
this country, is already commenced for it, at the
factory of the Messrs, Hook, in this city.
« »»^ t
SPLINTERS.
The Providence Flying ArtiUeiT- acquit-
ted themselves most creditably in Boston.
Where are the learned fleas ? Can any-
body tell us where ?
.... The Batemen Children have returned to
New Tork from their London engagement.
.... The London Times acknowledges that
the American steamers are the fleetest.
.... We rejoice to see that the river and har-
bor bill has passed Congress.
.... There have been three more " camphene
murders " since our last paper.
.... Miss Fitzpatrick, a young comic actress,
from England!, is at Niblo's.
A seal, weighing 600 pounds, has been
shot at Biddoford, Maine.
.... Th« Germania Musical Society will re-
main in Boston this winter.
.... Professor A"clerson has been amusing
ihe Boston i&ns at the Howard Athenceura.
Madame Anna Widemann won much
praise in this city by her concerts.
Our city is still crowded with strangers
from the south and west.
.... The man who owns so much "Vermont
Central " has taken medical advice.
Edwin Forrest, it is said, will make a
professional tour of the country this winter.
HERNANDO DE SOTO.
Behind the chair in which we sit, in our cosey
sanctum, hangs a fine lithograph pnnt of the
burial of this renoivned Spaniard. History pre-
sents but few more brave and chiyalrous charac-
ters than thatof this discoverer of the Mississippi
River. The conquests of Mexico and Peru had
fired all Europe with a spirit of adventure, and
exaggerated stories of the enormous wealth, the
mines of gold, and the splendid temples and
cities built of the precious metal, to be conquered
and possessed in the western world, were rife.
Among those who bad returned from following
Pizarro in his conquests, was one Hernando de
Soto, who had brought with him great wealth,
and fame as a brave warrior. The young and
fiery De Soto had peifoi-med deeds of almost
miraculous valor and prowess.
A few stragglers had returned to Spain from
an ilbstaiTcd expedition to the coast of Florida ;
but though they had met with no success, they
brought a renewal of these stories, and declared
that the natives on the coast told them of mighty
kingdoms situated in the interior, greater and
wealthier thfni any that Spanisli arms had ever
conquered. ]^e Soto burned to imitate the deeds
of the conquerors of Mexico and Peru. He
formed an expedition, and sailed for the shores
of this continent, landing in Florida in May,
1539, and after experiencing a series of the most
fearful adventures with the natives, one day
fighting until blood ran like a river, and the next
feasting, he cue his way first tlirough the Indians,
and then through the tangled forests, westward
to the supposed El Dorado, which he confidently
expected to find.
Morasses were to be crossed, wildernesses to
be tracked, all manner of hardships endured, but
with an indomitable spirit, they marched forward,
overcoming all obstacles. Believing that they
would eventually find rich and glowing regions
to conquer, and even allured by visions of gold,
they steadily held on their way westward. Now
the war-whoop rang in their ears, and now they
smoked the pipe of peace. On, on they pressed,
their progress incredibly slow, but their hearts
undismayed, until April, 1541, when they arrived
on the banks of the mighty Father of Waters, a
discovery that has enrolled the name of De Soto
in American liistory, and which for his fame was
greater than would have been the discovery of
inexhaustible mines of gold and silver.
But himself and his band crossed this great
river, and plunged into forest wilds beyond;
fresh battles are fought, and new Indian tribes
are conciliated. Still they traverse the unbroken
wilderness, imtil the fever, induced by the climate,
thins their ranks, and warns them to retrace their
steps, or prepare to lay their bones in the wilder-
ness. They turn back to the Mississippi, where
their brave and indomitable leader, the stout-
hearted, invincible De Soto, is laid low in sick-
ness, and here he dies ! Afraid to bury his body
where the savages may discover and disinter it
for disgrace, his followers take it (as represented
in this expressive picture), tearfully and in deep
sorrow, to the river channel, and in its deepest
part, at midnight, and by mingled torch and
moon-light, hooded priests and steel-clad wan-iors
gather round. They commit the body thus to the
stream.
His followers build vessels here, their labors
frequently interrupted by battles with the natives,
and finally they embark for their distant Castil-
ian homes, by the way of the Spanish possessions
in Mexico ; and small was the remnant of that
proud and valiant band, who, after the lapse of
years, once more reached their European homes.
[};y" We have received a copy of Gleason's Pictorial
Drawing-Room Companion, ^e have no hesitancy in
Sajing. that among all the spirited productions of the ag»,
none have been more successful — none are more beautiful
and useful ; contain more magnificent engravings th;in
Gleason's Pictorial. It is a large octavo, published weekly
by F. GleasoD, Boston, containing sixteen pages of reading
matter, adorned with the most splendid embellishments.
These handsome engravings contribute, in no small degree,
to i-ender it one of the most acceptable guests on the draw-
ing-room table. Its main features arc to present some-
thing, every week, faniiiiar to the minds and tastes of the
American people, and for these noble exertions it hns just-
ly received the commendation of every lover of polite lit-
erature, and stands unrivalled, perhaps, in the world. For
a present to a lady friend, a volume of the " Companion ■'
would be the best, probably, that could be selected from a
thousand similar productions. — Jersey Shore Republican.
Glen Mary. — Our readers will thank us for
this pleasant picture given in the present number
of the Pictorial. N. P. Willis, in his own pecu-
liar and inimitable way, has rendered it classic
ground.
Letters ox Palestine. — The series of let-
ters from the pen of Rev. F. W. Holland, now
publishing in our columns, will greatly interest
our hosts of subscribers.
POST.4GE OF OUR PAPER.
As some few postmasters, more nice than wise,
have taken the liberty of charging magazine
postage upon our paper, we have found it neces-
sary to refer you to this subject, and again to say
that we addressed the Department at Washing-
ton upon the subject, and have the authority of
its head for stating that the proper rates of charge
upon the Pictorial are as follows : Five cents per
quarter, for any distance not over fifty miles ;
and ten cents per quarter, for any distance not
over three hundred miles. Our readers and sub-
scribers would do well to remember this ; and if
any postmaster attempts to defraud them by a
higher charge, we will be obliged to them to
transmit his name to this office. For the infor-
mation of all concerned, we subjoin the following
extract from the postmaster-general's letter to
this office ;
" To judge properly of the weight of newspa-
" pers, postmasters are required to weigh them
" when they are in a dry state. — The wrapper
" forms no part of tlie newspaper, neither is post-
" age paid on it, and all postmasters have the
" right to remove them from every paper receiv-
"ed at the office."
This settles the matter, and no subscriber need
be imposed upon a second time. He has only
to call the postmaster's attention to this para-
graph, and show him that the paper must be
weighed tcken drt/, and xdthout their covers. This
will put the matter to rest, until the new postage
law goes into effect, when subscribers will get
their papers through the mail at a still cheaper
rate. The spirit of the new law we have already
referred to, and hope to be able to give it to our
readers in detail ere long, for it will be the most
liberal and favorable post-office law ever adopted
for the m.ass of the people, and will enable them
to enjoy all the advantages of prompt communi-
cation tlii-ough the mail at a very moderate cost.
RUFUS CHOATE.
A correspondent, writing from Saratoga, says ;
"In one of the most retired parlors, surrounded
by a very few persons, you will find, lying upon
a sofa, a man of middle age, thin and slender,
on whose face are traced deep lines ot thought
and apparent suff'ering. There is a wild, hag-
gard expression to his countenance, and his eye
seems to roll as restless as though he were now
being consumed by some internal fire. His
clothes are by no means fashionable, or even
new. There is about him an air of negligence
and occasional languor, which reminds you that
he is the same gentleman whom you saw^ drink
so many cups of tea at the supper-table. This is
RuFus Choate, the great Boston lawyer, the
'American Kossuth,' whose eloquence sways the
hearts of men as the March wind sways the ever-
green pines."
THE NAVAL OFFICER :
— OR—
THE PIKATE'S CAVE.
4 Thrilling Story of the Last War.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
This far-famed story by the popular author of
Fanny Campbell, is now re-published, to answer
the continued calls for the same. It has been
out of print for a considerable period, but can
now be had in any quantity at our office or agen-
cies, and at all the periodical depots.
Madame Sontag. — The engraving of this
lady, in this number, is a most perfect likeness.
She is to have a truly stupendous serenade on
the night of her arrival. Four hundred perform-
ers are to take part in it. She will probably re-
side at the Union Place Hotel, New York, and
the scene of the serenade is to be the adjoining
square.
Remittances. — We frequently receive letters
saying, how shall we subscribe for your paper 1
your terms are invariably in advance, and we are
a long way from Boston. Nothing is easier than
to enclose the money in a letter, or ask the post-
master of your town to do so. It is sure to come
safe, and you get your paper by return of mail.
Turkey and the Turks. — The first of a
series of papers upon this interesting subject we
commence this week, from tlie pen of Dr. J. V.
C. Smith. We propose to illustrate some of the
coming scenes he describes.
The Ar3ioree of Tyre. — This excellent
story, now publishing in the Flag of our Union,
is to be dramatized for the stage.
In this city, by Kev. Dr. Stow, Mr. Charles H. Hall to
Miss Emily Robbins.
By Rev. Mr. Smithett, Mr, John Walter to Jliss Marcia
M. Crane, both of Brighton.
By Rev. Mr. Gray, James Baker, Esq., to Miss Rachel
A. Greenleaf.
By Rev. Mr. Damon, Mr. J. D. Ambler, of Milford, to
Mrs. Ann S. VTilkinS.
By William Palfrey, Esq., Mr. Woodbury L. Levris to
Misg Paulina N. Griffin, of Hiilsboro', N. H.
At Cambridgeport, by Rev. Mr. Ware, Mr. Henry Thayer
to Miss Mary E. Heywood.
At Dorchester, by Rev. Mr. Blaikie, Mr. Neil Walker to
Miss Jane Ballentiue.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Fisher, Mr. Cha's Peckham,of N.
Orleans, to Miss Martna A. Young, of Manchester, N.H.
At Dedham, by Rev- Mr. Patterson, Mr, Wm. S. Pierce
to Miss Sarah A. Eaton.
At Newton, by Rev. Mr. Partridge, Mr. George W. HaU
to^Miss Adeline T. Trowbridge.
-Vt Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Bruster, Mr. Franklin Goldsmith
to Miss Julia A. Cram, of Ludlow, Vt.
At Fosboro', by Rev. Mr. Slade, Rev. D. W. Stevens, of
Mansfield, to Miss E. H. P. Sumner.
At Portland, Me., by Rev. Mr. Chickering, Mr. F. Baker,
of San .Francisco, Cal., to Miss Harriet F. E. Downs.
At Bath, Me., Dr. E. L. Warren to Miss Sarah P. HaU,
both of Vfevmouth, Ms.
At \ew York, Mr. Cha\s 0. West, of San Francisco, Cal.,
to Miss Sabina M. Griffin.
At S. Brooklyn, N. Y , Mr. Addison Ware, of St. Louia,
Mo., to Miss Hannah A. Phelps, of Greenfield, Ms.
In this city, Mr. William Preston, 23; Miss Sarah E.
Baldwin, of Charlestown, 26; John F., son of Mr. John F.
Mills, 2 ; Mr. Thomas Brown, 21.
At East Boston, Mrs. Margaret McLaughlin, 25.
At Roxbury,jCharles vVilliams Winship, M. D., 79.
At Charlestown, Dea, Simon G. Shipley, 54.
At Somerville, Rev. Phineas Howe, 29.
At Cambridgeport, Miss tlarriet Hardy, 17.
At West Cambridge, Mrs. Mary C. H. Horton.
At Saugus, Mrs. Laura Ames, 55.
At Salem, Mr. Thomdike Knight, 3S.
At Newhuryport, Mr, Henry Follansbee, 26.
At Hicgham, Mrs. Martha Esterbrook, 88.
At Acton, Mi.^s Mary C. Robbins, 18.
At Norton, Mrs, Eunice Lane, 80.
At New Bedford, Mrs. Didama Gordon, 43.
At Medfieldj Mr. OHver Cutler, 91.
At North Weymouth, Mr. Francis L, Torrey, 30.
At Byfield, Mr. V\'ilham Moody, 71,
At VVcstboro' Mr. Dana Harrington, 62.
At Loudon, N. H,, Mrs. Mary Page, 93.
At Westmoreland, N. H., Mrs. Matilda Winchester, 53.
At Kcunebunkport, Me., Miss Eveline Webber, 21,
At Smithfieid, R. 1., Ihomas Andrews, Jr., M. D., 27.
At New Haven, Ct., Dr. JEneas Monson, 89.
At Pomfret, Ct., Mr. Amaau Copeland, 94.
At New York, Capt, Henry Getcbell, 63,
At Oswego, N. Y,, Rev. Aaron Judsoii. 40.
At Nfcwark, N. J., Mrs. Elizabeth Lee, 51.
At Baltimore, Md., Mr. Nathaniel Tower, 73.
At Cincinnati, Mrs. Mary Boyd, of New York, 65.
Ik m%m:wm mmmm%
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
^r*wliTcj^Jl00tn €0ttt^rtin0iT<
A liecord of the beautiful and iisefd in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
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and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
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with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events iu all pai-'s of the world,
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contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hcmi-
Bphero, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with line and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from liic, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the oir, and the Jish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface p.ipcr, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it. — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four sq-dare
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
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pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as it.q eim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it allbrds, and the rich an-ay of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
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the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each,
\C^ Une copy of the KuG op our Cktox, and one copy
of the PicTOKJAL Dkawing-Room Co-mpaniox, one year,
for ■^b 00,
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obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tho
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single topy
Pubhshed every Saturday, bv
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174
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gleiwon'a PictorliLl,]
SURRENDER OF TROY.
DYWiM-IASI EDWARD KNOWLES.
From tho valley of the NiluB runhoil the Coptic liosta to war,
Onward Iml by daring lioroea, from tlio Nilun's banltn nfar;
And with battli!-iix(! ui)llfh)d, uacU In armor clad appears,
Whilu 1b liuard the bluHt of trumpetn, and tho ring of PoUua epeari.
Then tlio wallH were soon doaertod, Iron walls of Ilium,
Ah wofl hoard the deiifoning mttio of tho Corybantlan drum ;
Sbarpor dashed the Cretan cymbal, and tho Cystrum rattled slirill,
While then) rose cho wail of caroago, and the shouts rose louder still.
It was then that Troy scorned hopolcss, ore tho battle half wus done,
Aa tho chariots glistened brightly in the Asiatic eun ;
Brawn cluiriota roiling onward, swifter than tho arrow apcctl3,
Laden with the Coptic heroes, drawn by Asiatic steeds.
In the Ilium was sounding, loudly sounding, the sad knell,
Heard above the deaf 'ning rattle of the cymbals of Cybelle ;
But her sons rushed on to battle, tramping on the mangled slain,
While the crystal Phrygian waters ran a stream of blood again !
Onward rushed the Niius's heroes o'er tho mighty walls of stone,
And encircled Daiphobus round about as with a zone ;
Still his heroes from their towers battled bravely for their cause,
Choosing death before adhering to tho heathen Coptic laws.
Yet the fading sunlight found them bound in chains within their towers,
Mourning for thoir ruined city, through the long and dreary hours;
For her golden streets were plundered, and hor altars levelled down,
While tho breath of desolation swept around the ruined town.
[Written for Gieason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. III.
BY REV. F. W. HOLLAND.
TYRE, SIDON AND ACRE.
The first night's rest on our pilgrimage was with the sheik of
the Maronites, in a little mountain-hamlet of his own. His peo-
ple claim to be the original Christians of the country, inhabit
Mount Lebanon as their principal seat, and, though under subjec-
tion to the pope, retain much of their independence — holding pe-
culiar festivals, keeping up a married clergy, and administering
wine as well as bread at the communion. Their patriarch, elected
by people and clergy together, takes the apostolic name of Peter,
and is termed "Patriarch of Antioch." Their khan, or Turkish
inn — the word '*caravansara" having quite disappeared — is the
cleanest in Palestine, and the best kept. We were provided at
once with lights, bedding, some simple food, and a generous sup-
ply of guests. The old gentleman, with his children and grand-
children gathered around to watch every motion, see us eat, won-
der at our trinkets and feel of our clothes : evidently, they were
a simple, kind-hearted set, very much pleased to see strangers,
and quite troubled that we could not talk with them. All our
goods and gear were perfectly safe among them without bolt or
bar, and no charge was made for their comfortable hospitality —
though, of course, some silver changed hands before we parted
from them. At no other khan did we fare at all as well. Com-
monly, their allowance was six foot by three of naked earth for
chair and bed, one dirty jug of water for the whole company, a
rag burnt in a mud cup of olive oil for light, some furze-smoke
for fire, a swaim of vermin for bed-fellows, and a greediness of
gain which we were never able to perfectly satisfy. When these
stone huts — called by the natives Iconis — were crowded, and the
cattle had to sleep witli us, and the rain filtered upon our faces
through the flat clay roof, and the dirty smoke blinded but would
not warm us, and the fleas welcomed us as if they had been starv-
ing ever since meat-eating Christians left the country ages ago, it
was about as much as we could bear. Except the free-hearted
reception among the Bedouins, and the stated provision at the
Latin convents — which are unhappily "few and far between,"
poorly sustained by European funds and wretchedly victualled —
there is no such thing as hospitality in the land. The Roman
Catholic, but not the Greek monks, make it their business
to attend upon all decent travellers : they are obliged, by their
own rules, to give gratuitous food and lodging for three days to
every applicant — and some persons linger for weeks ; medical at-
tendance, too, is freely funiishcd, and the Christian antiquities of
the place pointed out. In return, every traveller leaves with
them about what he would pay at an inn of the same class, to
help them bestow the same necessary mercy upon future visitors.
They used to be cruelly oppressed, robbed, and even murdered
by the Turkish lords of the land. Ibrahim Pacha put an end to
all this. But, visiting freely all parts of their establishment — as
my companion and servant were devout Catholics — I found many
friars sick, all of them poorly fed, and few, indeed, that stayed,
save from painful sense of duty. Faring worse than our crimi-
nals, they seemed contented; cheered by no bow of promise in
the future, they never appeared cast down ; haunted by want,
they still kept open doors ; worn down l)y debility, they never
talk of desertion. Had we despised their superstition, we could
not have failed to admire their generosity; had we hated their
creed, we must still have venerated lives of patient poverty, of
cQij5t,;*i?t devotion, of never-stinted benevolence.
Sidon, now >Said, was the first town on our way — the mother of
Tyre, and one of the thrones of Phcnician commerce. Though
extremely injured by tlie filling up of its harbor under the orders
of Fakrcddin,and the banishmentof the Franks by Djezzar Pasha
it ia still ft bustling, thriving place, beautifully situated on the sea.
a round tower guarding it upon the land, and a square one upon
the water. The little paved sti-eets — ^^just wide enough for one
loaded horse, with side-walks still narrower — exhibited all kinds
of trade in full life — morocco-dyers, silk-weavers, potteries, cook-
erics, and tho like; the /.'■W;, which is minced lamb roasted on
skewers and eaten from them on bread, we found exceedingly
nice, and the charge very moderate. The town is saiil to contain
five thousand people ; but as there arc no Christians to compute the
number, it is all guess-work. I should not allow so many; and
yet the last Biblical Cyclopedia gives fifteen tliousand! Bciroot
luis stolen away the best of the commerce ; and wlicncver its pro-
jected road to Damascus is completed, will secure a permanent
business superiority over every other place in Palestine.
Tyre, the next Phcnician seaport, another day's journey from
Bciroot to the south, has changed that name so renowned under
David and Solomon to Sur; its site is more inland than the orig-
inal one, its population is about half that of Said, and its desola-
tion is made impressive by the ruins of aqueducts and other Ro-
man works once surrounding this Venice of antiquity by land
and by sea. This " daughter of Sidon " far surpassed its mother
in the days when Ezekiel and Isaiah uttered their prophecies
against it. Once it defeated the king of Assyria after he had
taken Samaria; once its merchants were princes, and its wealth
of commerce, as well as manufactures, the wonder of the world.
Now, its harbor is ruined ; and so much of its commerce, that I
saw but one vessel in the offing. Its name is lost, and the precise
position of the ancient city cannot be ascertained. It was the
last stronghold of the Crusaders, and was so entirely demolished
by the conquering Moslems, that, for three centuries, it fultillcd
the prophecies literally by being a heap of deserted ruins. Now,
there arc a few fishing-boats, with their nets drying upon the
shore, a little trade in the most delicious tobacco in the world,
and vast masses of remains of marble pillars, and red and gray
granite columns, which reveal a little what the city of Hiram was
in the days of its pride.
Acre, the Accho of the Old Testament and the Ptolcmais of
the New, has gone back very much to its ancient name, being
now called Arkar, and still attracts notice as the strongest place
in all Syria. The Saracens stormed it once with two hundred
thousand men. Afterwards, Richard Caur de Lion took it for
the second time from the Infidels. Officered by a few English-
men, under Sir Sidney Smith, it kept Napoleon at bay, though
he himself had said on that little town hangs the destiny of the
East; and again yielded itself readily to the English fleet, assisted
by the explosion of a magazine, in 1840. Its three ruined towers
on the Mediterranean, and its broken seaside gate, show how se-
verely it has suffered. The fairy-like mosque of Djezzar Pasha —
the most beautiful gem of tho sort in all Syria — with a spacious
khan around it, and a famous fountain and kiosk in the centre
erected by the same renowiied despot, bear traces of the ruthless
hand of war. But the bazaars solidly arched with stone, the un-
usually clear streets, the extensive Latin Convent — the double
walls still of considerable strength and mounted with cannon —
impress the stranger favorably. He remembers the Knight-Hos-
pitallers in their last hold, who defended it so fiercely and so long ;
he is not surprised at the crowd of soldiers in the streets, nor at
the report of ten thousand inhabitants in the thriving, though
somewhat ruined city. The key of Syria, it has been bravely
contested in ancient and modem times; and so long as the East-
ern question continues unsettled, and war keeps its popularity
among more civilized nations, must remain the first prize of the
spoiler — illustrating too well the moral of the peace makers, that
the best fortified places have suftered the most by assault and
conquest.
We pitied our Franciscan hosts at Acre more than anybody
else. They were but three in all, and one was sick, one taught
school, and the other entertained strangers. Their food was
hardly eatable — their apartments were cold — not one friend
speaking their native tongue was near at hand — their Moslem
neighbors still look down upon them in scorn. A clerical board
residing at Jerusalem appoints these brethren their several sta-
tions every few years. They are not students, interested in intel-
lectual investigations ; they are not missionaries, occupied by
gathering converts. They are chiefly guardians of the past,
watchers over the tombs of holy places and men, helpers of Chris-
tian pilgrims and mementos of Christian history. They speak
Italian freely, and always Arabic ; but hardly ever French or
English. Their books are few, thoir fasts many, their duties
incessant, their pleasures hardly to be imagined — a pious proces-
sion or a church festival, a few more candles or a little longer
chant. But when 1 saw their superior, trembling with cold on
Mount Zion, wlien I passed from one damp, uncarpeted cell to
anotlier, when I saw the meagre and monotonous daily board,
when I witnessed their apparent zeal in their devotions and heard
of their austerities, I could not but respect the feeling that
prompted ihem, even if I thought it might have been directed for
a greater service to humanity.
YANKEE ENTERPRISE.
Not a year passes but numerous active, ambitious, and intelli-
gent young Americans cross the Atlantic, and traverse England
from end to end. No novelty, no ingenious or useful invention
escapes their shrewd observation. Tlie knowledge thus acquired
is speedily acted upon, and brought into profitable use, through-
out the length and breadth of the vast and fertile regions of the
United States. It frequently happens that, in a few mouths, the
English invention returns to us with material improvements be-
fore it is generally known and adopted in England. As this policy
is totally neglected by the English, the result must be obvious to
the most careless and indifferent. That is to say. Brother Jona-
than is rapidly going ahead, and leaving England behind in all
useful and scientific pursuits. — Mackinnon's Atlantic Sketches.
[Written for GlcuHon'B Plctorlul.]
AUT()(il!APIIS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTmariSHED DTDIVrDUALS.
Nu. II.
BY WM. EDWAHD KNOWLBS.
We continue our collection of autograplis, from last week, giv-
ing (irst on the list that of
'Ux^t^n^^lO/
Wm. Ellery Ciianning stands high as a didactic and moral
writer. By some he has been severely criticised; by others, laud-
ed to the skies. That he was a man of genius, no one will deny.
There is a clear, broad deliberateness found in his chirography,
surpassing any we have ever yet seen. His name will be cher-
ifilied as long as the language in which he wrote exists. He has
now gone to his reward, and his works do follow him.
' /{J?MT^<nJ^
Rev. John Pierpont is one of the most beautiful poets on
this side of the Atlantic. His poems are distinguished by the '
sweetness of their versification, and the beauty of the sentiment.
His short poems are strikingly terse and forcible. The strength
and modulation of his rhythm strongly suggest Croly or Milman.
The handwriting, however, is decidedly common. It is loo
clerky, and was undoubtedly formed in his earliest boyhood.
RuFUS Dawes has been known as a versifier for a long time.
We think he is the author of " Geraldine " and " Athenia of Da-
mascus." The one is but a poor imitation of Byron's Don Juan ;
while the other is a work of mere wordy length. He has done
better things in poetry, however, and some of his short pieces are
equal to those of Bryant himself. His chirography is neat and
legible, and at times highly picturesque.
Judge Tucker is the author of the best novel ever published
in America — George Balcombe — but owing to unfavorable criti-
cism, it never was as popular as it otherwise would have been.
He was at one time editor of the " Southern Literary Messenger,"
and furnished it with some very creditable criticisms. His chi-
rography is neat and legible. The signature affords a pretty
good idea of the general manuscript.
Miss Ciiesebro' is earning for herself golden laurels. She is
a powerful, rather than an imaginative writer. Her autograph is
a noble one, revealing the genius within. The handwriting is
plain and distinctly formed. It shows force and i
r of thought.
^(/-^^^Mr^r^
RuFUS W. Griswold is a fine writer, though mostly in the
editorial way. He is unquestionably a man of genius, and thor-
oughly versed in the literature of America. As a prose-writer, he
is polished and entertaining; and as a poet, graceful in the ex-
treme. The signature is rather better than the most of his
manuscript.
Wm. D. Gallagher is one of our most beautiful poets, and
has written some very popular songs. He is destined to become
still greater, as he possesses the true spirit of poetry. His chi-
rography is free and easy, bold and highly picturesque. The sig-
luiture above conveys a pretty good idea of the boldness of tho
manuscript.
EonERT T. Conrad holds a high position among the list of
American authors. Indeed, he is nearly at the head, and distin-
guished alike as a prose-writer and a poet. He has also produced
several dramatic works, which have been well received. His
handwriting is very legible, and just such a one as we should nat-
urally expect from such a man.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
175
fllORE ANKEXATION.
It has just come to light that, early hi 1851,
" two propositions were submitted to this gov-
ernment, one proposing to make an absolute
cession of the Sandwich Islands to the United
States, in consideration of a fixed annuity to be
granted; and the other contemplating a protec-
torate, like that held by the French over Tahiti —
which may be considered a practical exercise of
sovereignty." Both propositions were declined
by the administration, on the ground, it is sup-
posed, that the country had had enough trouble
with its acquisitions from Mexico, to last it a
year or two, without accepting a fresh bone to
quarrel over. Some letter- writers now state that
the Democratic leaders have had it seriously un-
der consideration to adopt the " annexation of
the Sandwich Islands" as a war-cry for the com-
ing election. We go our death on annexation,
and solemnly believe that the United States will
eventually cover this entire continent, and that
they ought to do so, besides embracing the West
Indies, Sandwich Islands, etc. Our government
is so excellent we want all to have it.
EXPENSIVE PRACTICAL -TORE.
A costly joke came off in one of the Berlin
cotFee-houses recently. A young man was play-
ing billiards. One of his companions, with an
understanding with some of the by-standers,
stealtliily drew a pocket-book, which contained
four hundred thalers in paper money, from his
pocket. When the game was finished, and the
player wished to pay his share of the expense,
the pocket-book was gone. For some time, the
company amused themselves with the perplexity
of the young man ; at length, his friend conclud-
ed to return the book, and relieve the poor fel-
low's feelings. But now it was his tm-n to be
frightened, and endure the same pain which he
had just inflicted upon his companion ; for a real
thief had relieved him of the pocket-book, and
that, too, without joke; and had taken himself
off. The joker was, therefore, forced to replace
the four hundred thalers. Served him right.
TROUT IN LAKE ERIE.
Mr. Andrews, of Dunkirk, N. Y., recently suc-
ceeded in catching salmon trout in Lake Erie,
where it was not known that they existed. Seve-
ral unsuccessful attempts were made at different
depths of water, and in dilfercnt ways, but at
length the true way was found, and that by turn-
ing out some thirteen miles from shore, and
dropping nets to the depth of nearly or quite 100
feet, and thus letting them remain for some
hours, the fish could be secured. Mr. Andrews
took at one haul over fifteen hundred pounds of
trout and whitefish. In this lot were thirty-three
trout, weighing about thirty pounds each.
EARLY PRINTING.
It is related that Faust, of Mentz, one of the
many to whom the honor of printing is ascribed,
having carried some of his Bibles to Paris, and
offered them for sale as manuscripts, the French,
after considering the number of the books, and
their exact conformity to each other, and that
the best book writers could not be so exact, con-
eluded there was witchcraft iu the case, and, by
eitlier actually indicting him as a conjuror, or
threatening to do so, they extorted the secret;
hence the origin of the popular story of the devil
and Dr. Faustus.
Of course. — A correspondent writing from
Roxbury signs a voice from the " neck." It
would be difficult for a voice to come from any-
where else.
Maritime. — Two vessels sailed from Canton
within sixteen hours of eacli other, and reached
New York just the same number of hours apart.
This coincidence has probably no parallel.
" The Evening Gazette." — Our neighbor
Clapp makes a most readable and acceptable
paper of that old "stand by" — the Saturday
Evening Gazette.
The Maine liquor law is strictly enforced ia Boston.-
Granville DemocraC.
D^- Over the left !
Exactly so. — Looking over other people's
affairs and overlooking our own, may be said to
be one of the curiosities of the present age.
Surely. — The quickest way to have a thing
done, is to go and do it.
Ulaijsilie ©atljcriugs.
There are seven steamships on the stocks in
New York.
At Bathurst, N. B., on the 2d ult., the shock
of an earthquake was experienced.
Burglars are practising extensively and suc-
cessfully ill Reading.
There are now over 881,000 hogs in Kentucky
over six months old.
A son of Mr. William Wilkinson was drowned
at Pawtucket, on the 11th ult., while bathing.
The Halifax papers are decidedly opposed to
any compromise of the fishing question.
An express line has been started between New
York and the Australia gold diggings.
It is estimated that Tulare county, California,
would produce grain enough to feed a population
of 50,000,000.
Three " phantom sliips" were seen sailing in
the air off Kingston, Ireland, on July 14, sup-
posed to have been caused by refraction.
It is asserted that a communication has been
made to the Austrian government, that the
French garrison will quit Rome within a year.
A man about fifty years of age, supposed to be
deaf, was run over and instantly killed by a
freight train on the Concord road, in Concord.
For some time past, Louis Napoleon has been
arranging his household on quite an Imperial
footing.
A clever female French writer say?, women
should not sit beside the men they wish to con-
quer, but opposite them. " Attack a heart by
full front, not by profile," is her expression.
George Burton was arrested at Carlisle, Pa.,
lately, as a fugitive from justice, charged with
passing counterfeit notes of the Commercial
Bank in Philadelphia.
Lightning conductors were much opposed
when first introduced into Paris. A gentleman
having placed one on his house, was compelled
hy the sheriff to pull it down.
Mr. Caldwell, keeper of the almshouse, at
Newburyport, was nearly choked to death, lately,
by an insane person under his charge. Assist-
ance reached him after he was senseless.
A company of miners, with their tools, have
arrived at Northampton, in this State, employed
by parties in New York city, to open and explore
the Southampton lead mines, for lead and zinc.
A two-year-old heifer recently died near Ap-
pleby, England, and on being opened, the cause
was discovered to be a living adder, three feet in
length !
Simeon Rogers, postm aster at Chenango
Forks, has held the ofifice fifty years. He receiv-
ed his commission from Gideon Granger. He
is now ninety years of age.
Mrs. John Wilson, the widow of the late emi-
nent Scotch vocalist, met her death very sudden-
ly, supposed from apoplexy, while bathing at
Portobcllo, on the 30th of July.
Three persons at Sandwich, Me., were dread-
fully burned by an explosion of burning fluid.
They were daughters of the Rev. Joseph Marsh,
and two of them, it is supposed, will die.
A single manufacturing establishment in Staf-
fordshire, England, consumes twenty thousand
dollars worth of gold, annually, in gilding porce-
lain ware. Here's where some of the gold goes
to.
Andrew Norris, a brave soldier of the Revolu-
tion, aged ninety years and five months, who is
still living in Cincinnati, was with General Wash-
ington at the time of the execution of the unfor-
tunate Major Andre.
The Toronto Globe states that a plan for the
re- erection of Brock's Monument, has been
adopted. It is a fluted column, measuring from
the base to the head of the statue 185 feet, only
8 feet less than the Nelson Monument in London.
Some people are reporting that the California
mines are giving out. We observe that on.e of
them at Viacita recently "gave out" to its own-
er, a Mr. Dunham, a "nugget" weighing over
twenty-six pounds, valued at §5400.
Ml'. Shaw, an Englishman, says, in a book on
the rat, that "his ^little dog Tin}', under six
pounds weight, has'destroyed 2525 rats, which,
had they betm {>ermittcd to live, would, at the
end of three years, have produced 1,633,190,200
living rats \"
If yOu want to leam the value of a dollar, go
and labor two days in the burning sun as a hod
carrier. This is an excellent idea, and if many
of our young gentlemen had to earn their dollars
in that way, how much less dissipation and crime
we would witness every day !
Mr. Seneca Thomas, a brisk youngster of
seceniy-eight years, and a soldier in the battles of
Lundy's Lane, Chippewa, etc., was married at
Worcester, Mass, on the Uth ult., to Miss
Clarissa A. Darling, a blooming lass of thirty
summers.
A yoilng man, named Jennings, committed
suicide at New England Village, lately. He had
been paying attention to a young lady before
going 10 California, and on liis return she re-
fused to receive his address ; hence his tragic
end.
The Board of Health of Rochester have
adopted a resolution, that no placards, advertis-
ing medicines, patented or otherwise, for the
cure of cholera, shall be put up in that city, and
has directed the officers to defiice and tear down
all such handbills.
JTorcign iWiscfllang.
Moses Benedict, the great Stutgardt banker, is
dead.
The Crystal Palace has been nearly moved
from Hyde Park.
At Madrid, on the 22d July, the thermometer
stood at 113 in the shade.
A severe shock of an earthquake has been felt
at Ivilmarnock, Scotland.
The French have five hundred vessels engaged
in fishing along the colonial coasts.
Accounts from Calish, in Russian Poland, re-
present the ravages of the cholera as fearful.
The number of Jewish officers, who hold com-
missions in the French army, exceeds one hun-
dred.
Madame Tussaud's famous wax-figures are to
be brought to this country. This will be a great
speculation.
It transpires every day, that new titles of no-
bility contrive to be conferred in France, without
any public announcement of them.
Lord Mansfield, when asked how the French
revolution would end, replied ; "It is an event
without a precedent, and, thei'efore, without a
prophecy."
The police of Paris are continuing to take ac-
tive measures to prevent further accidents from
hydrophobia. Upwards of four thousand dogs
of various kinds have been destroyed.
The Ariel steamer has just captured twelve
more English fishing-boats, says Galignani's
Messenger, while in the act of poaching on the
French oyster-beds, and brought them into
Havre.
There is a fixed import duty, in England, of
five shillings and nine-pence sterling per gallon
on all French wines, witliout regard to quality;
this duty on low wines amounts to five or six
hundred per cent.
Madame Sontag, Countess of Rossi, is soon to
make her appearance as ' a singer before our
American public. A London critic says, her
voice is full and flexible, Avith hauthois mellow-
ness, but not the clarion ring of Grisi, or Jenny
Lind's.
A young woman recently committed suicide,
in England, because a fortune-teller had told her
tliat her " young man " would prove unfaithful.
The price which she paid for this prediction was
four-pence. She went immediately home and
took poison.
Speaking of Queen Victoria's family, a Lon-
don letter-writer says. Prince Albert is getting to
be quite fat and gray, though, upon the whole,
he has a very cozy and comfortable look. Of
the children, the Prince of Wales is the best
looking.
JFobr's Buiiget
Sanbs of ®olIr.
.... The highest clouds seem to move slow-
est, and so, too, everything great.
.... Civil dissension is a viperous worm that
gnaweth the bowels of the commonwealth.
.... To give advice is always easy, though
generally aselcss, and frequently impertinent.
.... No one can be provident of his time who
is not prudent in his choice of company.
To please the greatest number, it is not
so necessai-y to say, as to leave unsaid.
.... The time for reasoning is before we have
approached near enough to the forbidden fruit to
look at it and admire.
We had rather see patriotism than gal-
lantry. The one cannot be counterfeited, the
other can.
.... Children, be more ashamed to speak one
bad word, than to have a hole in both knees of
your pants and both elbows of your coat.
.... To be well spoken of, you must die.
Even a pauper, when dead, is mentioned without
asperity, and that is as much as any pauper can
expect.
.... The most influential man, in a free coun-
try at least, is the man who has the ability as
well as the courage to speak what he thinks,
when occasion may require it.
Avarice in old age, says Cicero, is fool-
ish; for what can be more absurd tlian to in-
crease our provisions for the road, the nearer we
approach to our journey's end.
What a pity it is that time cannot be
bought and sold like commodities in general,
since some persons have such an overplus, and
others such a deficiency.
.... Death may remove from us the great
and good, but the force of their actions still re-
main- The bow is broken, but the arrow is sped,
and will do its office.
.... Science is not a club, it is an ocean ; it
is open to the cockboat as the frigate. One man
carries across it freightage of ingots, another may
fish there for herrings.
Let your thoughts be fit and suitable for
the subject. Every day have higher thoughts of
God, lower thoughts of self, kinder thoughts of
your brethren, and more hopeful thoughts of all
around you.
Reproaches have no power to afflict the
man of unblemished integrity, or the abandoned
profligate ; it is the middle compound character
which is alone miserable; the man, who, without
firmness to avoid a dishonorable action, has feel-
ing enough to be ashamed of it.
A confectioner at the south end advertises
broken hearts for thirteen cents a pound !
A Western editor says, that in the town where
his paper is published, " a rattlesnake was killed
a few days ago by a man with thirteen rattles."
These moony evenings are exceedingly favor-
able to keeping the new commandment — " Love
one another." So say John and Susan.
A genius named Flaherty, of Washington city,
has the following posted on his window : " Eggs
newly laid here on the shortest notice."
A Yankee down East has made the grand dis-
covery, that a window glazed with old hats is a
sure indication that the occupants have seen a
rum bottle.
A bachelor, the other moraing, remarked that
wives, who use the needle, are like the enemy
spoken of in the parable — they sew tares while
the husbandmen sleep.
Some of the country papers are still complain-
ing of the drought. We should like to know
what else was expected but a " dry" time, after
the new liquor law was put in force.
On a person asking another if he believed in
the appearance of spirits, he replied : " No ; but
I believe in their disappearance, for I have missed
a bottle of gin since last night."
Mr. Punch inserts the following " Note and
Query:" Note. — The Napoleon color is violet.
The query is — and one which Master Louis Na-
poleon would find it rather difficult to answer — ■
whether the Napoleon oath is also kept in-violet.
The owners of the Henry Clay have requested
the public to smprnd their opinion _/br a few days.
We suggest that the public had better suspend the
owners for half an hour. This would be very
satisfactory to all.
"How rapidly they build houses now," said
Cornelius to an aiild acquaintance, as he pointed
to a neat two-story house; "they commenced
that building only last week, and they are already
putting in the lights." "Yes," rejoined hia
friend, " and the next week they will put in the
liver."
VOLTTMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have TOlumes 1st and 2(1 of the Pictorial Dbawins
R00.M CoMP-VNiON elegantly bound in cloth, vrith giltedgea
and hack, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Pive Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current ET(?nts all OTer the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great be.iuty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
briJliant frontispiece to the voluuie.
Besides the many illustrations, it embi-aces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Kecord of the times; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to rea<ling matter and
illustrations.
Fer sale at the PubUcation Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOIf ,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND KEFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expi-sesly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, ^nd on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted Into its coliuuna ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POR THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flaq is now the
leadhig zoeekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains th& foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of inteUigence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, ©r money produce.
Ijicking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundi-eds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO SUBSCKIBEES.
' 1 subscriber, one year $2 00
S subscribers, '^ 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 " " n 00
16 " " 20 00
I One copy of the Flag of our Union, and one copy of the
PiCToaiAL Dbawino-Room Companion, one year, for SS'OO.
1 ttl/^ Invariably in advance.
' Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form, clubs, on the above terms.
^Cr" AU orders should he addressed, POBT PAID, to thf
PUBUSHER OP THE ElAQ OF ODB UnION.
■ %* Tlie Flag can. be obtained at any of the »e]csp*ip2»
depots in the United Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
rODK CENTS per single copy.
P. GLEASON,
L^ pDBLIBHEa AKB PBOPEIETOE, BoSTOKj MASS.
176
GLEASON'S PICTOniAL DRAWING V.OOU COiSIPANTON.
THOMPSON'S MONUMKNT.
The monument, represented herewith, is
the work of P. Stephenson, and is exe-
cuted in Itixliftu miirhlc. It is nhout ten
feet in lieight, and live feet nt tlio base. —
The form is iin oblong Rrjuaro. It is
erected, by his family, to the memory of
a distinj;uished citizen, Capt. Sheldon
Thompson, of Buftalo, N. V., in early
life a sea captain. The anchor and quad-
rant are emldomatical of his profession ;
the shroud and inverted torch are emble-
matical of dcatli. The moulding:: is com-
posed of the poppy leaves and capsule,
emblems of sleep, or, " not dead, but
slecpeth." On the reverse side is a ligurc
of resignation. Altliough this is an elabo-
rate sculptui'jil monument, its cost, about
$2000, has not liecn more than a mean
architectural work of a similar size.
FLYIIVG DOGS.
Having collceted a largo number of
plants, we left the island of Talim, to pro-
ceed to the little islands of Panician and
Labujo, situated at a short distance from
Talim, one of the I'hilippine islands. The
wcatlicr, meanwhile, changed, and the rain
fell in torrents : and by the time we reached
the island of Panician, which was covered
with most luxuriant vegetation, it was im-
possible to effect a landing anywhere. We
had observed, at a distance, large pear-
shaped bodies, which we at first took for
birds' or ants' nests, suspended from the
lofty trees that overhung the shores of tbi=!
little island. The people on shore called
to U3 to lire into the trees, as these supposed
birds' nests were nothing less than the
gigantic bats, known by the name of the
flying dogs. We accordingly fired several
shots at these thick masses, and theborriblc
creatures rose, with much exertion, and
fiighlful cries, into the air, several of them
falling down dead, and others remaining
suspended from the branches. The large
hooks with which their wings and feet are
furnished, enable them to cling firmly.
They generally double themselves up in a
pear-shaped form, and laying hold of the
branches with their hooks, their whole body
is thus wrapped up in their wings. We
rowed round the island, and after repeated
shots, brought the whole multitude that in-
habits the woods into confusion. Such of the bats as had been
shot at and fell into the water, dived as soon as we attempted to
take them up, and thus we obtained only those which were shot
dead upon the spot. After the whole body had risen into the air,
and filled the whole neighborhood with their hideous cries, they
returned and flew to the adjacent island of Labujo. The vermil-
ion eyes of this animal, its large and hideous form, together with
its frightful scream, render it one of the most disgusting creatures
on the face of the earth. We shot several whieh measured four
feet from tip to tip of the extended wings. They live entirely on
fruits, and, as they travel in such immense numbers, they cause
considerable damage to the farmers. — Meyer's Voijage.
MONUiMENT TO CAPT. SHELDON THOMPSON, OF BUFFALO, N, Y,
CAMP MEETING.
The engraving below represents a view of the main square ot
the Duck Creek (Ohio) M. E. Camp Meeting, taken for us, by
James F. Harris, daring the 11 o'clock service on Sunday, Aug.
15th, from the north side of the square. It shows the pulpit and
the tents back, and on either side. A dense crowd is seen packed
in around the pulpit. The concourse, great as it is, is not more
tlian one fifth as many as went from the Queen City to attend on
the occasion. In the Western States these gatherings are more
common than among ns. The scene presented by our artist is a
truthful delineation, and may be regarded as a fair specimen of a
Western Camp Meeting. The Duck Creek Camp Ground is
pleasantly situated in a grand old beech
wood near the Madisonville road, five miles
east from Cincinnati. It has been occupied
by the Methodist Episcopal Churches in
Cincinnati and vicinity for the last twelve
years. There are twenty-five acres of
ground, held by trustees on a lease at one
hundred dollars per annum. Three largo
springs funiish an abundant supply of pure
water. The encampment consists of a
principal square for preaching in the Eng-
lish language, and a fimaller square at a
convenient distance on the south for the
Germans, while the people of color have
tents on the north. The chief square is
about two hundred by three hundred feet,
enclosed on all sides \iy tents, or frame cot-
tages, two stories high. On three sides
there are three rows of tents in parallel
lines, separated by narrow streets. The
square is furnished throughout with plain
board seats for the congregation, and near
the east end is a large stand or pulpit, in
which some twelve or more preachers are
usually seated during the sermon. Tlicir
earnest attention and hearty responses have
a fine effect upon the preacher and the
audience. There are about three hundred
tents, which furnish lodging for about three
thousand persons. Wlien the weather is
favorable, many come from the city and
return every day, and on the Sabbath, the
attendance sometimes exceeds twenty thou-
sand. English and German, there are
from thirty to forty preachers present ; and
they have not failed to gather at every
meeting a harvest of souls. The conver-
sions often exceed one hundred, and this
year they were over one hundred and fifty,
of which about one half were Germans.
Although in the immediate neighborhood
of a large city, the order of the meetings
has ever been a subject of grateful remark.
This is owing, in part, to the efforts of an
efficient police, acting under the wholesome
laws of the State of Ohio, for the protection
of camp meetings ; but still more to the
strong religious influence whieh pervades
all minds, and awes into reverence the
thoughtless and profane. How many have
experienced this mysterious power, and
though "they came to scoff, have remained
to pray." The readers of the Pictorial will
not conceive us to be sectarian in present-
ing to them this scene ; we give it as we
would any other public and notable event that has attracted pub-
lie attention. Because we give the likeness of an eminent politi-
cian, it is not to be supposed that we are entirely of his mode of
thinking, nor against him. These columns are edited and pre-
pared and printed for the million, for everybody, and no sect, reli-
gion, nor political party will be peculiarly favored in any respect.
We stand on neutral ground, and what we say, and what we
depict, is for universal gratification, and for the entertainment of
everybody. The picture before us is one of those spontaneous
religious gatherings which are highly popular in this country, and
particularly in the Western States. Our artist has succeeded in
depicting it in a most lifelike and natural manner.
-. -C ^^ -^l^f^w <-="— '"^>
.MAIN SQUARE OF THfi DUCK CHEEK ]\IETH0DIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH CAMP MEETING, DURING SERVICE, NEAR CINCINNATI.
v> m V ^ on-NT ( corner bromfield
r . l>rJji!/AOUiN , j AND TKEMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1852.
Si2 PER VOLUME.
10 ct3. single.
Vol. m. No. 12.— Whole No. 64.
PROVIDENCE BIARINE ARTILLERY.
Oar artist has given us below a very correct
view of this fine body of citizen soldiers, under
command of ColoQcl Balch, as they appeared on
Boston Common, a few days since, when renew-
ed by Governor Boutwell and suite. Did our
space permit, we should be pleased to give a de-
tailed account of the review, but we must be
concise. The artist has chosen the scene to de-
pict the company' as they appeared a la Sher-
man's Flying Artillery at full speed, passing in
review. It is a fact that the Providence corps,
as represented below, fired one hundred guns (not-
withstanding a fierce rain storm) in a second
over six minutes, with four peices, while Sher-
man's battery took seven minutes. The drill
and discipline of the Marine Artillery was most
excellent, and has infused a spirit among our
own military that may result in the formation of
a similar corps in Boston. The company was
instituted and organized, and the charter granted
by the Legislature of Rhode Isl3,nd, under the
name of " The Providence Marine Corps of Ar-
tillery," in the year 1801. Upon the petition of
the " Marine Society," praying for an act of in-
corporation, " for the purpose of perfecting them-
selves in the art military, and for the attack and
defence of ships and batteries;" and one section
of the charter provided that all the officers of the
company should be chosen from the Marine So-
ciety ; this provision has been modified from time
to time, and finally annulled. At the present
time, no connection with the Marine Society ex-
ists. From the time of their organization, until
the close of the war of 1812, the companywas in
a very efficient state of drill and discipline ; the
forts and preparations for the defence of the har-
bor of Providence, during the war, were con-
structed under their direction. After this period,
the interest in the company appears to have de-
clined. New members, however, were admitted,
and the annual election held, that the charter
might not be forfeited. In 1842, at the com-
mencement of the "Dorr re6e///o!)," a communi-
cation was addressed by the Executive to the
several military companies of the State, request-
ing to be informed, if, in case of necessity, he
could depend upon their services to aid in the
preservation of law and order. Upon laying this
executive communication before the company,
they at once took measures to render them-
selves efficient. Numerous accessions were made
to their ranks, and during the campaign of 1842,
the active roll of the company numbered about
one hundred men. Daring this season, they uni-
formed themselves, and the next year, assisted
by the State, erected a commodious stone build-
ing, which is occupied jointly with the State as
the armory of the company, and the State Arse-
nal. At this time, the company drilled, and
were equipped as infantry. In 1847-8, the State
furnished the company with their present battery,
and since that time they have drilled as light
or " flying" artillery.
^^mm^f''''^'''^ML'T} ' "'^'mri'^^ :u^
|%^A*
GRAND REVIEW OF THE U. S. MARINE ARTILLERY, OF PROVIDENCE, E, T-, BY HIS EXCgW.ENeT QOV, BOUTWELL AND STAFF, ON BOSTON COMMON.
178
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAWIxN'G PwOOM COMPANION.
A ROMANTIC STORY OF INClDtNT AND ADVENll'RE.
Entered according to Act of Conf;:rcss, in the year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clork's Office of the
DiHtrict Court of Massachusetts.
[WHITTKN EXPRESSLY FOR GLEASOn's PICTORIAL.]
il iitt
-OH, — -
^ (Dvaplj'u (talc of Gpain, Jtaln auii (!;nglani).
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[continued.]
CHAPTER VI— [continued.]
The signal had been previously agreed upon,
and de Norde awaited the arrival of a conjickinte
at that hour, who was to furnish him with a lad-
der, by whicli to descend from his eliambcr, for
he had an appointment, which Don Miguel little
dreamed of. Bernard did not suspect the inten-
tions of Ruberto towards him ; but he nevertlie-
less prepared himself, as he always did, for con-
tingencies. He believed that Don Miguel slum-
bered; and he hoped to obtain liis gold on the
following day. Little did )ie surmise what was
in store for him within the next few Iiours !
Ruberto continued to doze in his chair. The
dogs had been destroyed, already. Corrinne had
retired to her boudoir, but sleep was farthest
from he)' eyelids ! The old German clock in the
great hall of the house struck the midnight hour,
and a low whistle was quickly heard below the
traveller's window.
In an instant, the light was extinguished, the
sash was softly raised, a ladder fell against the
wall, and de Norde descended safely to the
ground.
" Now Pierre," he said, "the guitar."
" It is here, captain."
" Good ! Retire, Pierre — but remain within
call."
The attendant fell back, and Bernard disap-
peared, alone, beneath the shadow of the man-
sion.
CHAPTER VII.
THE night's events.
When de Norde took leave of Corrinne, before
he retired, it will be recollected that an unusual
emotion was suddenly exhibited by tliat lady,
who, as he went out, staggered back in astonisli-
ment, at a discovery she suddenly made. It was
a singular fact; but as he presented his hand to
her, she saw upon his finger her diamond rinf/ !
And when the door closed behind him, as he
went out, she discovered also a small note in lier
hand, superscribed in the same handwriting that
a previous one had been, and which was directed
to herself !
Both these circumstances were curious ; hut
both of them were quickly unravelled as Cor-
rinne opened the note, and read as follows :
** Charming Lady : Be not surprised that the
humble magician should resort to such a ruse as
this, to communicate with you, after your kind
response to his first appeal !
"Ah, lady ! you cannot conceive the joy which
that brief sentence has created in the stranger's
heart! We had met before, and you will not
have forgotten the dusty traveller who halted at
your guardian's portal ; nor him, perhaps, wlio
had the honor of meeting you on a previous oc-
casion, at an opportune moment, wiicn your per-
sonal safety was endangered,
" The poor necromancer, tlic dusty traveller,
your fortunate deliverer from peril, are one
and the same person ! Do not start at this an-
nouncement ; all shall be satisfactorily explained
to you. In your palm-grove, near your own fa-
vorite arbor, grant me an interview with you to-
iiiglit. Trust all to the honor of him who loves
you with adoration, and know me only for the
present, a>'
Yonvs devotedly, Bernard."
Thrice did Corrinne peruse that singular note,
arwl ns its contents were being digested in her
mind, hIic could scarcely bring herself to realize
tliat the lialf of it was true. She had not foi-got-
tcn the gallant service that sowe o»e had rendered
her a few days previously, during a morning
ride, wlien her horse had become unmanageable,
and her servant was not in attendance, as usual,
upon her. She remembered tiiat act with the
deepest gratitude. And when she compliment-
ed the gentleman who so bravely served her on
that occasion by riding at a desperate gallop to
her relief (when her palfrey had taken fright and
dashed off at full ?peed with her, against her
will), when he overtook her, endeavored in vain
to check her crazy steed, and finally lifted her in
safety from lier saddle to the ground, and prob-
ably saved her life. "VVlien Corrinne Almanza
thanked the stranger with her whole heart for
this gallantry, she little dreamed that she should
meet with him again, so soon, and least of ail,
under the present circumstances !
Bernard was then in search of the hacienda of
old Ruberto, and he had traced him to the vicin-
ity of the place where he chanced to meet with
Corrinne, who was enjoying her customary
morning ride, when the above accident occurred.
She invited the gentleman to return to her guar-
dian's mansion, only three miles distant — the
dwelling of Don Miguel Ruberto ! This put de
Nordc at once upon the right scent, but he was
not then well prepared to meet his former asso-
ciate. He left Corrinne in charge of one of her
ncighbor.>^, who was passing at the time, and then
galloped away in the opposite direction. Very
soon afterwards, however, the dusty traveller
called upon the don, on other business ! Cor-
rinne did not then recognize him, but now slie
saw it all.
As wc haA'e already stated, the hour of mid-
night had struck, and Don Miguel still reposed
in his chair, in his library. The young moon
threw a pale light over the garden and foliage
which surrounded the dwelling of the old don,
and Bernard de Norde had escaped from his
sleeping apartment; and, attended by one of his
fj.ithful followers, he was now quietly and softly
wending his way to the upper wing of the ha-
cienda, fronting along the outward walk th.at led
to tlie vinery, guitar in hand, for the purpose of
oftering his dulcinea a tribute in song, at which
he was as accomplished as in most other ordina-
ry affairs.
A midnight serenade was so common a mat-
ter in the vicinity of Don Miguel's habitation,
that had he overheard it, he would have only
cursed the singer or singers that some oth-
er night had not been chosen for their compli-
ments to Corrinne, rather than have supposed it
singular. But he still slept and heard nothing.
Corrinne had not retired. She had again pe-
rused that letter, and her romantic heart bade her
respond to it, without licsitation ! But her maid-
enly pride and feelings of female delicacy for-
bade her to be too hasty. She thought of Don
Miguel ; she turned over in her thoughts all the
chances, good and bad, that seemed to present
themselves; she reflected upon her ]jresent posi-
tion and her future hopes ; she believed that she
was deeply in love ; that she was as deeply be-
loved, and she strove to argue herself into the
belief that such a meeting might not be indeco-
rous or improper, under all the circumstances.
While thus she ])ondered, the midnight hour
struck, and she was upon the point of throwing
her veil upon her shoulders to repair to her own
private bower, beyond tlie terrace, when her mo-
tions were arresteil by the sound of a guitar be-
neath her lattice window, the chords of which
wei'c evidently swept l)y a master hand !
Corrinne retired insiantly to a divan in the re-
cess of the window, where her form was hidden
in shadow, beneath the heavy drapery, and
where, unobserved, she could listen to the ser-
enade. In tender, pa.ssionate strains of vocal
sweetness, soft and gentle, but manly and noble
in sentiment, ihc singer told his story to his fair
inamorata. He recounted the dangers of bin
life, his happy adventure, his fortunate meeting
with " Spain's fiiirest daughter," while tiie
strings of his guitar most exquisitely handled,
discoursed a choice and heart touching accom-
paniment to his plaintive, beautiful song, as he
concluded :
" JMiiiilen fair ! 0, prithee, listen !
LintcD to my tale of love ;
While the silver inooiibcams glisten,
Through the omngc -seen ted ctovo —
Let UB wautlcr, iaJy bright!
By the moon's pale silver light,
'Neu,th the aliadow of the grove ; —
Lady ! listen to my love 1"
" — 'ist — hist ! " said a voice near the singer,
at this moment. And turning quickly round, de
Norde observed his faithful Pierre advancing
stealthily, and motioning him to retire within
the shadow of the wall.
" There is some one stirring — the old fellow
bim.self, I think," said Pierre in a low voice.
" I watched a light moving at the farther end of
the buikling, a few minutes since, and I noticed
that it was carried in the direction of your
sleeping room. The old don will miss you,
captain."
"How can he? The door is fastened."
" Exactly. But I thought to caution you — ."
" Thanks for your promptness. I will be care-
ful. You may retire Pierre, but be near me.
Where is Antoine, and the rest?"
" In the lime-grove, at the hill side."
" How many are we V
" Twelve, in all, captain."
"It is well."
Scarcely h.id this brief dialogue passed, when
a slight rustling at the window on the piazza be-
hind him arrested Bernard's attention, and a
veiled figure stepped lightly out upon the walk.
In a moment longer that figure disappeared be-
neath the shade of the vine-clad arbor, and in the
next, Bernard de Norde was kneeling at Cor-
rinne Almanza's feet !
" Lady," he said, as he seized her snowy hand,
" a thousand, thousand times, I crave your par-
don for this presumption — a thousand times, in
one sentence let me thank you for your conde-
scension ! You have taken from my lieart a
load of fear that even Bernard could not longer
bear, and I owe you life and joy, for the permis-
sion tlius to kneel at your feet, and swear eter-
nal honor and fealcy to you, Corrinne, the beau-
tiful ! the only woman to whom 1 ever bowed
the knee !"
The rapturous manner of utterance which
characterized this brief but earnest declaration,
though it was subdued into a cautious tone, lest
there might be some other listener to it, was
highly flattering to the sensitive heai't and ro-
mantic disposition of the beauty thus assailed;
but Corrinne contrived to deport herself witii be-
coming grace under the peculiar circumstances.
" Signor," she said, " we are strangers !"
" Say not this, sweet Corrinne," ardently re-
sponded Bernard ; " say rather that Fortune h.as
preserved us for each other, to tliis moment, that
our cup of joy should be filled to the brim, at
once ■"
" Rise, Signor Bernard," continued Corrinne,
"and be calm. It scarcely befits an honorable
lady's reputation thus to meet, at midnight, and
hold converse with one of whom she knows so
little. But Corrinne joys to say to him whom
she now permits to kneel to her, that an unknown
passion guides her. Until we met, Bernard, the
world was blank to me, in comparison. You
have stormed the citadel like a v.aliant soldier,
and you may deserve to occupy the heart tluit,
until now, has proved invulnerable."
" Thanks, sweet Corrinne, ten thousand thanks
for words like these. But we must be strangers
no longer. It shall be my pleasure to tell you
who I am, and you shall see how deserving I
will be of your love. But not now, Corrinne,
at some other fitting opportunity, idl shall be ex-
plained. Suffice it, I am /lot what I have seem-
ed to you. Suflfice it, that Pate presented me
the opportunity of being serviceable to you, and
by that means brought me nearer to you, subse-
quently. Suffice it, that I love you with an ardor
that words are incapable of desciibing; and let
me promise you, by all that I possess, by all that
I hold sacred in life — by my fortune, my lionor,
my life — that my intents and hopes and objects
are for your happincfis, now and hereafter !"
Thus passed nearly an hour. The honeyed
words of the eloquent and passionate lover sunk
deeply into the heart of the beautiful girl to
whom he addressed tliem ; and when they part-
ed, Coninnc permitted her gallant to raise her
hand to his Vi\)S. Bernard was in rapture. Cor-
rinne was happy in the consciousness of being
thus beloved, and the interview ended, with a
mutual })romise to meet again at an early oppor-
tunity.
The magician's professional business at Seville
was completed. He appeared there no more I
As stcaltliily as he left his sleeping room, fo
did the traveller return to it. Pierre was at hand
with the light scaling ladder, on which Bernard
mounted once more to his room, intending to
retire, quietly, till morning — awaiting Don Mi-
guel's action in regard to the anticiiiated loan
which he had promised, to be paid on the next
day, at noon.
"Say to Antoine," obseiwed Bernard, as he was
about to ascend to his chamber, " that I shall
not need his services, probably, with the men ;
and he may retire to the wood at Conciia, where
I will meet him to-morrow night."
"Yes, captain."
"And let them get away slowly, hence, to
avoid observance, as they came. Before day-
light, they can all have retired, by twos or
threes. Bid Antoine bring up the rear."
" I comprehend."
" Good night, Pierre."
" Adios, captain !" said liis companion, as Ber-
nard sprang through the broad window, lightly,
and reached his sleeping apartment again.
*■ Curse those love-sick swains, say I," mut-
tered old Don Miguel, an hour previously, as he
awoke from his nap and looked about him, for
the conclusion of Bernard's song was just dis-
cernible, in its tone and burthen, at the spot
where Ruberto could overhear it. "Confound
those fellows ! They are eternally singing to
Corrinne about her eyes and her mouth and her
raven locks. An* I had that fellow now by the
ears, I would compel him to sing another tune,
or I am not Ruberto !"
This was but a momentary passion, howevei",
for Don Miguel was well aware that such sere-
nades were by no means extraordinary, in tlie vi-
cinity of his premises, though he very little sus-
pected who was the performer on this occasion !
Arousing himself from the stupor into which
he was so wont to relax, whatever he might have
to do, or of however great consequence was his
subsequent business, he arose at last and ap-
proached a closet beyond him, from which he
drew forth a poignard ; and then placing a huge
pistol in his breast, he moved softly out into the
corridor.
His mind was made up I He had resolved not
to pay Bernard another dollar, and he deemed
it safer for his own future weal that his former
lieutenant, who he believed was tlie only one in
the clan that knew of his present whereabouts,
should not be suffered to leave his house, again,
alive, to relate any suspicious stories. Moreover,
he believed, even if he should pay his present de-
mand, that Bernard would find occasion to come
again ! He had been out of that sort of practice
for some years, but the time had been when the
shedding of innocent blood did not annoy his
conscience ; and he was now fully equal to the
task of placing what he deemed his enemy out
of his way.
But it was necessary for Ruberto to move with
some caution in this undeitaking. In the first
place, he kneiv the character of Bernard de Norde !
And he therefore knew that his life would not be
sold without a struggle. In a hand-to-hand con-
test, too, Don Miguel very well knew who would
be likely to conquer ! So he must destroy him
as he slept, or fail in his purpose. Such then
■was his intent, as he emerged in tlie darkness
from his o^^ti private apartment.
Securing an old leathern purse, he dropped in-
to it a respectable amount of gold, and moving
up silently to the bedrooms of his slaves, he en-
tered one of them and slipped the bag of gold
beneath the pillow of Copo, who was snoring
away tpiite lustily, little suspecting the perpetra-
tion of any evil in the vicinity !
Returning, as lie came, he halted at tlie door
of Bernard's chamber. The light was ex-
tinguished and all was silent. So far, well for
his plan. He gently tried the door, but it was
fastened on the inside. This was unlucky ! But
Don Miguel had caused this room to be built and
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
179
arranged to suit his own convenience, and he
knew how to enter it by another way.
All this manoeuvring occupied time, however ;
and lest he should cause alarm, tlie hardened in-
grate was obliged to proceed slowly and cau-
tiously.
Half an hour had elapsed, and at length all
was still again. The serenade had ceased ; tlie
blockhead lover, or erackbrained swain — whoev-
er he was ! — had gone ; the moon shone timidly
into the chamber, and suddenly a secret panel
in the wall slid noiselessly by, and the figure of
an athletic looking man passed quickly into the
apartment as it slid as quickly back to its place.
It was Don Miguel Ruberto who entered the
bedroom of Bernard deNorde !
For an instant the old robber halted in his
tracks, as if liis heart misgave him, or his
courage failed him — at the last moment. But it
was too late to retrace his steps ! Bernard had
become importunate ! He would rob him by
piecemeal ! He knew the Spaniard's secrets —
he must die !
With the crafty step of the panther, he ad-
vanced to the bedside and threw aside the cur-
tains. His upraised stiletto glistened an instant
in the moon's pale rays, and then descended with
a murderous stroke ! But Bernard uas not there !
CHAPTER VlU.
THE ATTACK AND THE RETREAT.
Don Miguel was more horror-struck when he
satisfied himself actually that de Norde was not
in the bed, than he could possibly have been, had
the poignard entered the heart of his guest ! He
was quickly and thoroughly alarmed at the hol-
low sound which echoed through the room as he
sprang back and saw that he had struck so furi-
ous a blow at vacancy !
The thick drops of perspiration that now stood
out upon his forehead showed how terribly excit-
ed he was, and how difficult it was for him, har-
dened as even he was, to return again to his for-
mer practice of crime. But he partially recov-
ered his equilibrium in a few moments, and the
first thought that suggested itself to him was :
" Where is Bernard V
He turned the subject over hastily in his mind,
and he then asked himself, has he fled ? What
can have been his object in this ruse? Was he
alarmed ? Will he return ? If he does, what is
to become of me? But, while ho asked himself
these questions, he suddenly overheard the low
sound of voices beneath the window; and, a mo-
ment afterwards he distinguished the figure of
Bernard de Korde, as he was about to ascend the
ladder to return to bis room once more.
All unconscious of evil design, and utterly
unprepared for an assaul tor defence from the
circumstances of the case, at this moment, Ber-
nard ascended the ladder as nimbly as a cat, and
gained the sill of the broad bay window of his
room. The ladder, which had been made for the
purpose, was instantly withdrawn from below,
and the faithful Pierre only waited one instant
to hear "All's well !" from his master's voice,
to decamp with his orders for his band's retreat.
Instead of this, however, his alarm and conster-
nation may well be conceived when his ears were
suddenly saluted with a sharj) cry from Bernard,
followed quickly by the exclamation ;
"lam stabbed — Pierre! Quick!"
A shrill and peculiar whistle instantly follow-
ed this sentence, and in another moment the
ladder fell against the wall, and Pierre was at
the top of it and through the open window.
He found his master prostrate upon the cham-
ber floor, with a stout limbed, corpulent fellow
over him, though Bernard clutched his assailant
stoutly at the throat, while, with his other hand
he grasped the wrist of his antagonist, whose mur-
derous hand still held the gleaming poignard,
which, for aught he knew, had dealt him a fatal
blow !
To dash the dirk from the enemy's clutch with
his foot, while with his stoutly clenched hand he
sent Don Miguel reeling across the apartment,
was the work of but an instant ; for Pierre was
a bold and brave fellow, and he did not fear to
assume responsibility when the occasion seemed
to call for it. Bernard sprang to his feet, and
his band by this time surrounded the house.
" Antoine !" shouted Pierre from the window.
" Yes, yes," was the response.
" Quick, for your life ! This way !"
Antoine mounted the ladder, followed by three
or four of the foremost of the clan, and meantime
Bernard had secured the don for the present.
But the inmates of the house had now been
thoroughly aroused, and the confusion was mo-
mentarily increasing.
The remainder of the robbers had dispersed
themselves around the outside of the mansion,
and the cries of Don Miguel had brought all his
servants and slaves to the rescue.
** What, ho !" shouted the former companion
of Bernard, when the robbers entered. " Within,
there! Help ! Pinta! Copo ! Slaves, min-
ions, help ! help !" and the sturdy defendants of
the don soon thundered at the chamber door,
tliough they were desperately alarmed.
While de Norde hesitated a moment as to
what course he should take in the frightful and
altogether unanticipated emergency, the cham-
ber door was dashed from its hinges, and half a
dozen stout, brawny-limbed slaves rushed in to
their master's defence. The mind of Bernard
was made up on the instant I
"Down with the knaves ! Down with them,
comrades!" shouted Bernard, securing his pistol
and stiletto; "they have chosen this mode of
settling our aff^iirs, and we are agreed. Down
with the rascals ! Secure the plate and valua-
bles ; don't harm the women ; sack the house ;
see to the gold and jewels; and bum the build-
ings over the ingrate-traitor's head ! Away !"
The well-armed robbers had already walked
out over the falling and fallen forms of the com-
paratively defenceless slaves of Ruberto, and fol-
lowed by de Nordc, they very soon found their
way to the plate room. The men outside had
finally broken through the lower windows and
effected an entrance, though they had been at
first opposed by the inmates, who were soon
overpowered and driven back. The plate was
taken care of; the " strong box" had been de-
molished and rifled, and the gang ascended to
secure the jewels and otlier valuables that might
be found.
The wound upon de Norde's shoulder was a
severe one, and it continued to bleed profusely ;
but, with the nerve of an enraged lion, he still
pressed forward with his men, to be avenged
upon the scoundrel who so deceived and injured
him. His followers dashed through the elegant
apartments in hot haste, lingering only here and
there a moment to grasp some valuable orna-
ment or other, and at last reached the wing ap-
propriated to the conveniences of the females of
the house and their attendants.
Terribly alarmed, the women had rushed at
last in a body to the beautiful boudoir of Cor-
rinne, where they sought counsel, temporarily,
amidst the uproar of the attack. In vain did
Don Miguel attempt to rally his slaves to the de-
fence of his property and their own lives. In
vain he cursed their cowardice, and yelled at
them as they fled ! Half a dozen lay in their tracks
just where they stood, in the onslaught, and sev-
eral of the others had received such severe cuts
or blows from the robbers en passant, that all
were agreed that "the better part of valor was
discretion," and they governed themselves ac-
cordingly.
Don Miguel was not the man to yield thus
readily, however; and single-handed — determin-
ed, valiant as ever he was, the ancient robber
nished upon a detachment of the assailants,
whom he saw in the act of bearing away his mas-
sive silver plate. It was a bold attack, but an
unfortunate one for Don Miguel Ruberto ! For
the robbers fell upon him, violently, and quickly
left him covered with wounds and contusions, dy-
ing, where he fell ! But another scene was en-
acting at a remote quarter of the dwelling.
While the women huddled around the form of
their young mistress, and besought her to tell
them liow they should escape violation andmur-
der at the hands of the rut^an robbers ; and
while Corrinne, herself deeply alarmed and pale
as a water-lily, stood pondering what course she
could pursue for their and her own safety, even
in that trying moment, her thoughts turned to
her strange lover ; and she would have called
upon Bernard to save her, but she could not
summon fortitude so to act !
Then came the thought, on a sudden, where
is he ? Has he escaped ? Can he have fallen
in the melee ? And where was Don Miguel, her
"protector?" But there were none to answer;
and the riotous noise continued within and with-
out the building. And now the robbers ap-
proached even the boudoir of Corrinne ! What
could be done!
On came the band, excited in the highest de-
gree, still seeking for new plunder of value. On
they came, with oaths, and shouts, and mena-
ces ; and in another moment one of the side
doors of the boudoir was forced, and half a doz-
en robbers rushed through the aperture. The
women screamed from fright, and madly rushed
to the feet of Corrinne Alinauza, clinging wild-
ly to her skirts and imploring her to save them !
But aid was at hand !
At the opposite door the stranger guest sud-
denly made liis appearance, and rushing to the
centre of the apartment, " back, villains !" he
yelled, as he brandished his huge poignard,
" back, I say!" And tiieu a pistol shot follow-
ed, and then another, as the women fainted and
the robbers gave way before the fury of Bernard
de Norde !
But no one was injured in this assault. The
scene was very opportune, for Corrinne now saw
in the valiant defender of herself and attendants,
her lover and her former deliverer, once more !
But there was no time to be lost. The robbery
of the premises had been complete; Don Miguel
lay gasping for breath in the great liall ; and the
torch of the incendiary had already begun to do
its frightful work upon both the stables and the
dwelling.
As the intruders were driven back from the
apartment of Corrinne, the women scattered,
and when they recovered from their fright, each
one took the shortest way to get out of the house
and escape as best they could. One lady alone
remained !
"Loved Corrinne!" said Bernard, kindly,
" do not speak to me of valor, now ; do not halt
to thank me tor this good fortune, which has
placed me at your side, at such a moment. The
house is suiTounded. Don Miguel has fallen
pierced with a score of wounds. The hacienda
is now on fire I Quick, then, if you value your
life !"
" Whither — 0, whither cau I fly V
" Tliis way — quick, dear Corrinne ! Trust to
this good right arm, and to the honor of him
who loves you !"
" Fire, fire — the house is on fire !" yelled a
cowardly skulk, who had just shown himself;
and with these words he scrambled down the
stairs and disappeared.
Corrinne placed her hand in that of her lover,
and Bernard de Nordc lost no time in conveying
her quickly to a place of safety. Nothing more
was seen of Don Miguel. The crackling flames
soon burst forth with frightful fury from a dozen
diflPerent points, and the splendid mansion
of Senor Ruberto, with its costly furniture and
appointments, was very shortly afterwards a heap
of ruins ! As the flames crumbled and fell in, a
groan or two was heard ; but the falling walls
and timbers crushed to atoms all which remain-
ed within that had ever breathed the breath of
life!
Wlien a few of the neighbors arrived, at last,
they found only the smoking remnants of the fa-
mous dwelling of Don Miguel Ruberto. The
robbers had made good their retreat, and, save
the crackling of the unconsumed remains of the
mansion and the gabbling of the staves, who,
each in turn, told the " awful story " in a difi'er-
ent way, there was nothing seen or heard till
sunrise, next morning.
In the meantime, Bernard with his precious
prize, the lovely Corrinne, had reached the skirts
of the wood which bordered on the highway,
half a mile from the site of Don Miguel's hacien-
da.
Arriving here, Bernard, who had previously
made his own arrangements accordingly, but
without any suspicion on the part of Corrinne,
called upon his attendant, Pierre, for horses.
" Haste thee, Pierre," he said, in a pleasant
tone to his subordinate, " and bring me swift
steeds that shall bear us away from this terrible
scene, from the peril of which we have now only
partially but thus curiously escaped."
The attendant disappeared, and soon after re-
turned with a pair of splendid beasts. De Norde
continued to sympathize with and comfort Cor-
rinne in the midst of her excitement and alarm,
and re-assuring her of his protection and love,
tliey quickly mounted and rode off at a gallop,
side by side.
CHAPTER IX.
THE WltECKERS AND THEIR PLOT.
A FEW leagues to the eastward of the mouth
of the river Guadiana, on the southerly coast of
Spain, the point del Pincho stretches out into
the sea. Within this reef, to the northward, be-
tween the point and the inconsiderable tovtm of
St. Hucho, there are numerous small, rocky isl-
ands, inhabited but very sparsely by a race of
men who were born there, and who subsist by
plunder or upon the fish they obtain in the little
coves and bays around them. They are an ig-
norant, selfish set of knaves, for the most part,
and whenever an opportunity presents for them
to rob a distressed vessel that may chance to
come witliin their reach, they do their work as
thoroughly as could possibly be devised.
Moreover, they have a very " taking " way
with them. From their earliest days they are
rocked in the great "cradle of the deep," and
they know very little of danger on the seas.
When the storm raves the loudest, and the waves
lash the shores with the greatest violence, the
hardiest of those fellows are the merriest ! For
they deem these forbidding symptoms a sort of
forerunner of good luck for them ; by means of
which, peradventure, some unfortunate lugger
or galliot, well laden with fruits and wine, or
more costly merchandize, bound up or down from
the Straits of Gibraltar, may seek a harbor near
their region.
Long experience in that heartless profession
had taught the leaders many a trick of deception,
which, from time to time, as occasion called,
they turned to their advantage. Not the least
of their contrivances was the habit, in bad weath-
er, of sliowing false lights at one or two promi-
nent points on the islands ; by which means
many an unfortunate bark had been lured to
the spot, and to subsequent certain destruction !
It was ten days after the burning of Don Mi-
guel's dwelling, and the previous four-and- twen-
ty hours had been distinguished for one of those
severe gales which so often raged in the vicinity
we have described. The scoundrels who existed
by preying upon their fellow-beings, amidst their
misfortunes, were in ecstasies with the prospect
before them, for the wind came in a steady strain
from the southwest, and its fury, even in
that wretched locality, had scarcely ever been
equalled !
" A cracking breeze, this," said one of the
chiefs to a neighbor, at evening, as the two men,
accompanied by some dozen or more of their
confederates, huddled around a blazing fire that
had just been kindled in a deep gulch of the
rocks, out of sight.
" Yes," was the reply, " and if this gale does
not waft some grain to the old bin, we may well
believe the ancient saw that it's an ill wind that
blows nobody good !"
" Well said, Boseat, well said ! Who has the
glass ?"
"Old Pedro, yonder."
" Ay, I see. Pedro I What's abroad to-
night?"
" Not a chip," replied that worthy, who, under
the shelter of an old piece of sail, lay like a
huge turtle beneath a fern, upon his belly, spy-
glass in hand, scanning the horizon from south-
east to northwest ; but not a spec could be dis-
cerned.
Tlie darkness increased ; and, as the evening
wore on, the wind blew fiercer, the surge dashed
higher over the rocks, and the ill-disposed wreck-
ers laughed louder or sang their rude songs more
roisterously.
" Merrily, ho ! the wide winds roar !
The storm-king's ubroad —
In his rumbling car 1
Ho, ho, ho I
Ha, ha, ha 1
What care we ? When the waves run high —
Whil*! the night is dark—
'Weath the blackened sky?
'Mid Sitorm and din,
0, then we win.
Ho, ho, ho 1
Ha, ha, lia 1"
" Quiet, Fernando, ."
"A sail!" said Pedro, quickly — and "a sail!
a sail !" ran along through the group as Fernan-
do obediently halted with his noisy song, and
Boseat advancing, took the glass from the hands
of the lookout at the top of the rock.
" What do you make her out, Bosy V
"A galliot, I think — -no, a brig."
" A brig ! a brig ! a brig \" shouted the
wreckers. " Now for sport, and a recompense
for the long watch we have endured," continued
Fernando.
"Away, boys," continued Boseat, somewhat
authoritatively, " away to the peak, and light the
beacon ; muster, quick !"
In a few minutes a bright light was burning
from the highest point of the rock ; and while
two or three of the men remained to feed the
flame and keep it steady, the rest scattered them-
selves along the cliffs and ledges to await the re-
sult of their scheme. The little brig was doomed,
for the light had been discovered on board, and
the helm had been put hard up to make the haven.
[to liE CONTINUED.]
180
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COjNIPANION.
TIIK liATI-: COtWT IVOUSAY.
This man, of whom wo i^ivf a faitliful ropriiseiitation hcre-
witli, was one of iliu most, noied of Knio|n!iiii celebrities at l]io
time of his ilealh, and wc find copious conimendatlons of his
oxcoUencc in holh Frencli and I'in^dlsh |)apers. M. JCmi'/e de.
GiranUn says of him, " Alficd d'Orsay was toolii^hly tiiflcd —
a warm heart and elevated mind, a pure taste, antique hcauty,
athletic strength, incomparalde address in all the exercises of
the body, ineontesialdo aptitude in all the arts to which he ap-
plied himself {drawing, painiin<;, sculpture) — Alfred d'Orsay
had too many gifts for his days not to l)e |)arsimoniously reck-
oned. Death has been inexorulde, but it lias been just. It has
not allowed him to become a common nnin. It has not taken
him — it has cboson him." The count had been ill for a long
time, from an ait'ection, it is said, of the spine, whicli caused
intense sutFeriug, but it was only lately that his life was con-
sidered in danger. His physicians ordered him to Dieppe, but
liis health, instead of improving there, became much worse,
and on his return to Paris, some <lays since, no hope was en-
tertained of bis recovery, disease of the lungs liaving been
added to the original malady. Few men, not from their posi-
tion public ciluraetcrs. have Keen mure before the public than
Count d'()r>,ay,and few men in Ins [.osiiion have shown greater
accomplishnicnis. The I'resident of the Uopnblic had not a
more devoted and sincere friend than Comit d'Orsay, and it is
at a moment when the prince had attached himself lo his per-
son by the title and fuuctions of Superintendent of the Beaux
Arts that he has lost him for ever. This is an irreparablcloss
for the arts and fur artists. The social and intellectual quali-
ties of tlie count are those on which his friends and admirei-s
will be ever eager lu dwell. It was not merely that he pos-
sessed varied and extended information, profound knowledge
of the sprin^^s of human action, tact, fancy, versatility, and all
the numerous (lualities, or sliades of qualities, which go to
make up that composite and indefinable thing called ivit. " He
■was the best-bred man we ever knew/' says the editor of the
London News ; " and good breeding of the highest order is not
not to be aciinired by study, like an art. Its perfection con-
sists in never giving pain, either from ignorance or designedly.
It therefore requires the most exquisite fineness of perception
to discover what is pleasing or displeasing to others, and the
most imperturbable good nature to turn tlie discovery to good
account, so as to diffuse agreeable emotions and promote friend-
ly feelings. It was d'Orsay's unceasing aim, particularly at
Gore-house, to make every one at home and at their ease ; and
he was always sure to address his conversation, naturally and
unaffectedly, to any shy and embarrassed member of the com-
pany, till he saw that any passing awkwardness or cmljarrass-
ment was at an end. His influence over his own circle of inti-
mates was unbounded, and it was fairly earned by the soundness
and disinterestedness of his counsels when any difficulty or mis-
understanding caused him to be appealed to as mediator or ad-
viser." Count d'Orsay was undoubtedly tlie hnndsomtst man of
his age ; all authorities concede this to him, and even in a repub-
lican government like our own he would have become a marked
and honored man. The funeral ceremony of the subject of our
sketch took place on the 7th of July at Chambourcy, near Saint
Germain. Amongst the persons assembled to perform the last
rites for the deceased, wore Prince Napoleon Bonaparte, M. Emiie
de Girardin, M. Clesinger (the sculptor), M. Charles Lafitte, M.
Alexander Dumas, Jun., Mr. Hughes Ball, and several other emi-
nent French and English gentlemen. The Duke de Grammont,
brother-in-law of the Count d'Orsay, being confined to his bed by
illness, Count Alfred de Grammont and the Duke de Lesparre,
nephews of the deceased, were the chief mourners. On leaving
the church the body was conveyed to a tomb in the form of a
pyramid, built under the direction of the count himself, and in
which he had signitied his desire tliat his remains should be placed
near those of a pereon to whom he was tenderly attached. No
funei'al oration was pronounced over the body, but the emotion of
the persons present was great, and the sadness of the scene was
PORTRAIT OF COUNT D ORSAY.
increased by the appearance of the Duchess de Grammont, sister
of tlie deceased, kneeling at his tomb ; every effort to induce her
to abstain from being present having been made in vain. The
Bnlktin de Paris says : " When the news of the death of Count
d'Orsay was communicated to the prince-president, he exclaimed
that he had lost bis best friend." The same journal informs us
that the large model of the statue of Napoleon, which Count d'-
Orsay was making from the small one executed by Mortimer,
and wdiich was seen at the London Exhibition, was nearly termi-
nated at the time of his death, and that M. Clesinger was formally
charged by him to teiTninate the marble statue of ex-King Jerome.
Count d'Orsay inherited beauty from both his mother and father,
who were remarkably endowed in this respect. It is said that
when the Emperor Napoleon first saw him he said he would make
an ailmirable model for a Jupiter, so noble and commanding was
the character of his beauty. The likeness which we present the
reader is pronounced by those who have been intimate with the
deceased to be a perfect one, and the execution is certainly excel-
lent. The well known intimacy that existed between the count
and Lady Blessington was of the most filial and beautiful charac-
ter, and their intimacy of more than twenty-five years was never
for one moment interrupted by the least misunderstanding.
EMIGRATION FROM SUNDERLAND, ENGLAND.
As California is attracting immense crowds of emigrants
fiom onr Allatttic coast, and ships are con'stanily sailing bound
to El Dorado, so is Australia, llie new discovered gold region,
attracting ships and emigrants from the ports of the Old World.
Below is given a representation of this character. The sailing
of an emi^irant ship from Sunderbmd fur Australia, the first
that ever left that port for the Pacilic, took place on the .3l8t
of July, under very interesting circumstanceH. So va^t an as-
semblage of persons, and so brilliant and exciting a scene, had
not been witnessed in Sunderland since the opening of the
Dock us was presented at the moment the brave vessel, freight-
ed with her living cargo, was leaving the harbor. The new ves-
sel is a splendid clipper brig, named the Lizzia W<hb,r, laiilt by
Mr. Pile, of Sunderland, and commanded by Captain Uown-
trec ; her registered tonnage being only 213 tons. On the 31st
she moved out of the south dock into the roads outside of the
harbor, having on board emigrants for Australia. She is un-
derstood to be the (irst of a line of emigrant ships from Sun-
derland to the gold regions. Many of the passengers being
from distant parts of (he country, and it being market-day at
Sunderland, an immense concourse of strangers, added to the
spectators of the town and neighborhood, thronged the piers,
docksides, seabanks, &.C., to witness the departure of the ship
and passengers. When the Lizzie Webber came to anchor in
the roads, the friends of the emigrants having bid them adieu,
were preparing to take their departure, when, upon the an-
nouncement of Captain Bowntrce, commander, Mr. Wright
addressed a few parting words to the company upon the occa-
sion of the departure of the first emigrant vessel from Sunder-
land to Australia. On Sunday, about noon, she weighed an-
chor, and proceeded on her passage witli a light south-west
breeze.
-■ « ^a^ > —
THE AIR PUMP.
The following effects and phenomena of the air-pump, are
related by Dr. Hutton. In the exhausted receiver, heavy and
light bodies fall equally swift, so that a guinea and a feather
fall from the top of a tall receiver to the bottom exactly to-
gether. Most animals die in a minute or two; however, vipers
and frogs, although they swell much, live an hour or two, and
after being seemingly quite dead, come to life again in tlie open
air Snails survive about ten hours ; efts, two or three days ;
leeches, five or six. Oysters live for twenty-four hours. The
heart of an eel, taken out of the body, continues to beat for the
greater part of an hour, and that more briskly than in the air.
Warm blood, milk, gall, &c., undergo a considerable intumes-
cence and ebullition. A mouse or other animal may be
brought, by degrees, to survive longer in a rarefied air, than
naturally it does. Air may retain its usual pressure, after it be-
comes unfit for respiration. Eggs of silkworms hatch in vacuo.
Vegetation stops. Fire extinguishes : the flame of a candle usu-
ally going out in one minute, and charcoal in about five minutes.
Red-hot iron seems, however, not to be affected ; yet sulphur and
gunpowder are not lighted by it, only fused. A match, after lying
seemingly extinct a long while, revives on re-admitting the air.
A flint and steel strike sparks of fire as copiously and in all direc-
tions as in air. Magnets and magnetic needles act as in the air.
The smoke of an extinguished luminary gradually settled to the
bottom in a darkish body, leaving the upper part of the receiver
clear and transparent ; and on inclining the vessel sometimes on
one side, sometimes on the other, the fume preserves its surface
horizontal after the nature of other fluids. Heat may be produced
by attrition. Camplior will not take fire : and gunpowder, though
some of the grains of a heap of it be kindled by a burning glass,
will not give fire to the contiguous grains. Glow worms lose their
light in proportion as the air is exiiausted ; but, on re-admitting
the air, they presently recover. A bell, on being struck, is not
heard, or very faintly. Water freezes. A syphon will not run.
Electricity appears like the aurora-borealis. Such are some of the
peculiarities of this remarkable instrument. — Penny Magazine.
PPPARTURE OF THE LIZZIE -WEBBER, THE FIRST EMIGRANT SmP TO AUSTRALIA FROM SUNDERLAND.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
181
COJIMENCKVIENT OF THE ST. ANDREWS AND QUEBEC RAILROAD.
RAILROAD COnniENCEMENT.
The commencomeTit of the St.
Andrews and Quebei* Railroad,
which took place latelv in Canada,
was a scene of much interest, and
the gathering formed the subject
for a very fine picture, which we
present herewith. After appropri-
ate preliminary ceremonies, a sa-
lute of nnietcen guns was fired in
honorof tlie occasion. In the ab-
sence of tlie president, wlio was
unavoidably prevenled from at-
tending, the Hon. Col. Hatch pro-
ceeded in behalf of the company
to cut and turn a turf; and was
followed by Alexander Light,
Esq., the engineer, and John
Brookficld, Esq., the contractor,
in the same operation. At the
conclusion of this part of the cere-
mony, Col. Hatch addressed the
meeting upon the advantages that
must necessarily accrue from the
connection of the great Atlantic
by railroad with the great St.
Lawrence and those inland seas
stretching to the Far West. " It
was a noble and magnificent
scheme," said the Colonel, " to
bring the products around the
shores of the sea to a point being
the nearest on the waters of the
inner Passamaquoddy, at St. An-
drews, to Quebec, and to ex-
change them witli those brought
from so populous and fertile a
country as Cadada. The comple-
tion of the work would far outrun
all present calculation in the good
to proceed from it, in the immense
trade, in linking the hearts of the
inhabitants of the lower and up-
per provinces, producing internal
strength, union, and respect
abroad." His Honor, the Admin-
istrator of the Government, then
expressed the great pleasure which
it afforded him to be present, and
to have assisted at so interesting a
ceremony. Mr. Light and Mr.
Brookficld next addressed the as-
semblage ; Mr. Light observing
that there existed no difliculties
of any importance, and that the
general facilities for construction
were all that could be desired.
The company then retired to
the Bower, where a cold collation
was served. In common with our
northern neighbors, we rejoice to
see these evidences of prosperity,
and these successful efforts at in-
ternal improvements. On these
facilities rest, in a great degree,
the prosperity and growing wealth
and importance of any country.
We know of no more important
subject which should engage our
own government, than the promo-
tion of internal improvements.
GREAT TORTOISE AT Tilt) ^UitltRY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, LONDON.
lUaiENSE TORTOISE.
This stupendous tortoise has
just been added to the collection
of animals in the Surrey Zoologi-
cal Gardens, London. It has re-
cently been imported from India.
By the number of plates of the
vertebral carapace, this specimen
is supposed to be upwards of 200
years old. It is the Pyxift arach-
noides, so called by Mr. Bell, \vho
has very closely studied the habits
and economy of tortoises, and has
possessed, we believe, for many
years, a very fine animal of this
gcnu^. There is a remarkable
similarity between its hind legs
and those of the elephant. In
warm countries, which are more
congenial to the habits of the tor-
toise than cold climates, specimens
are sometimes seen of a much
larger size than even the vast one
now under notice. In this genus
(pyxis), the anterior part of the
plastron or shell is mov.'j,hle on a
transverse hinge, and shuts up the
head and fore limbs. Slow, quiet
and inoffensive, thi? reptile seldom
wanders far from its haunts, and
trusts only to its passive means of
defence when molested. The spe-
cimen here figured is in excellent
health, and will carry two grown
persons on its back. These rep-
tiles are distinguished by having
the body enclosed between two
shields or shells, so that the head,
neck, legs and tail only appear
externally ; and these are capable
of being retracted in a greater or
less degree. The upper shell is
formed by the ribs, which are en-
larged, flattened and closely united
by sutures ; the under shell is the
sternum, or breast bone ; and the
vertebras of the neck and tail only
are movable. In consequence of
this conformation, the muscular
system is inverted, in many re-
spects, as with insects and Crusta-
cea ; and to this circumstance these
animals owe their great strength.
Tortoises have no teeth ; and the
margin of the mandibles is cov-
ered wirti horn, as in the lieak of
birds. They are very tenacious
of life, and will move weeks after
being deprived of the head ; and
this last will continue to bite long
after it is severed from the body.
They can remain months, and
even years, without food. The
eggs have a hard shell, and arc
deposited in the sand. The land
tortoises are distiny;uished by the
convexity of their upper shell, and
their short toes, enveloped in the
common integument nearly to the
nails. They perish if thrown into
the water.
182
CxLEASON'S PTCTOPJAL DRAWING r.OOM COMPANION.
[AVi-ltton for Olonson'H Pictorl.J.]
WARM>C!.
DT CAKOLINK A. IIAYDEN.
■Wlilpjicr It not I
Have a caro ; In murry forlioar ;
Why should joii kIv*" t" 'i «i"'f ico fair,
Ouc single blot!
Is hc! wror.;; ?
Art thou ri^ht? no foe does he fight,
■Which to lihii may appear like an iingol of liglit,
To entice him aloog?
T.fiavo him nlono!
Does lie stray from tlie narrow way ?
If ho will not the warning voice lioiir and obey,
Thy duty is done.
Wliat is it to thee I
'Twere a shiiine to bligiit ii good name,
Although tliere might be sonic cause for blame,
With censure so free.
Then wliisper it not!
Detraction cau hear uo fruit that is fair,
And the woi-ds of the s!;mdercr ko poisonous are.
They are never, no, never forgot,
[Written for Oloason's Pictorial.]
ALLAN MOORE.
BY GEO. CANNING HILL.
The day was very rainy — and a rainy day in
the country is not a pleasant sort of a day, either ;
that is, so far as out of doors goes. It was drip,
drip, drip, everywiicre The eaves poured dowu
their flood into the gutters ; the flutters carried
along the waters till they roared and gurgled
at the narrow-throated spouts.
Drops of rain, huge and round, beat against
the panes, made spattered spots upon them, and
ran slowly down to the sash. The sky was
overcast with the densest and dullest of clouds,
sullen in their seeming, through which a thread
of the golden sun would have found it hard work
to penetrate. It was just such a day as is apt to
assemble in one's weary brain those demoniacal
creatures called "blue devils," and set them to
work busily on the imagintition. It was a day
when travellers draw up for rest and shelter at
the snuggest inns; when old housewives rum-
mage lumbered garrets, and set ancient spin-
ning-wheels to singing new tunes; when hus-
bandmen husk corn, or shell it from the ear, or
make improvements about their barns, and
sheds, and granaries ; when the mist drives drear-
ily across the distant stubble fields, and cattle
rejoice that they are safely housed from it all ;
when the atmosphere seems heavy and thick,
and difficult of respiration ; and when dry rooms,
shelves of books, a soft rug and a deep easy
chair are objects most coveted by persons of
good tasLc.
In an old country cottage — brown, low-roofed
and mossy — was sitting a young man, whose
name forms the title to the preeent story. He
was by himself, in a small and cheerless room,
and leaned his head on his hand, and his elbow
on the table. An open book lay before him ; he
had been reading. Just now, however, his eyes
had wandered off through the window, and over
the far-off fields, where the rain was driving so
steadily. A sense of loneliness — pleasant, though
mournful — stole over his heart, and showed it-
self in his dreamy eyes.
He had been reading from a volume of the
old British essayists; such a volume as embraces
papers from the pens of Sir William Temple,
and soft and earnest Abraham Cowley, and Bo-
lingbroke, Tillotson and Jeremy Taylor. He
had revelled over the sweet words of Cowley, in
his admirable essay on gardening, and his heart
was filled with the tender sentiments and simple
joys, that take their root even in an humble
kitchen garden. He had lost himself In the gor-
geous imagery, and terse expression, and fervid
sentences of Jeremy Taylor. He looked up as
he finished Sir William Temple, and coveted
the tuition that so wonderful a genius as Jona-
than Swift had received beneath Iiis roof; and
looking, he gazed out at the window, and his
feelings so inwove themselves with the liquid
tln-eads of the falling rain, that they insensibly
took the sombre hue of the day itself.
He was ambitious. More than this — Allan
Moore had a strong and steady yearning after
the enjoyments of scholarship; he thought more
of them than of the honors. And tlius inclined,
he bent down over his hooks. The attainments
he coveted were to be had only after ir.credible
patience and pain.s. Tiiey were not the fruus of
a wish, or a sudden impulse. And this he seem-
ed early to know. He fL-lt that he must plant
over and over again to insure hinnelf the golden
harvest at last. lie knew that whiie the ends
were glorious, the me^un hy which ro iittain
them were in the hinds only of those who labor,
and watch, and strive eoiirtcantly.
Whatever his dreams at iliat parlleular mo-
ment miglil have heen, he did not make them
known l)y any expression. It was quite a long
time that he thus sat leaning his head on his
hand, and watching the falling of the rain. The
clouds never once lifted, nor broke up; but the
rain kept coming down, sometimes in larger,
and sometimes in smaller streams, and again it
vanished away into a dense, driving mist. It
surely was no day to make such a young man
very vivacious. It must, Iiowcver, have quick-
ened his thoughts wonderfully.
He saw the doves strutting proudly beneath
the eaves of the old barn, where, they were shel-
tered from the wet. He wondered if any human
beings could ever be as Iiappy as they. They
were contented; that was all that could bring
the true joy to any one wiser than they.
A feeling of satisfaction gleamed on his heart,
as he looked out at the comfortable barns, whose
wet roofs were smoking in the distance. It took
the subtle form of a sentiment. A pastoral
])ocm lived in his soul, as he gazed. Thoughts
and fancies of the most delicate hues chased
tliemselves across his brain, and began a life
they were destined to create again in the hearts
of others. Still there was an aching void; he
felt too sorely the need of what as yet he pos-
sessed not. And while he thus mused, his reso-
lution was slowly building itself np; its accre-
tions were slow, but they were to be enduring.
Thus passed the hours with a poor and lonely
student in his silent country chamber. At
length liis door was opened, and his mother
entered.
" Here is a note for you," remarked she.
"From wliomi" inquired he, turning hastily
around.
"Mr. White's man brought it."
And throwing it down beside him, while she
tln-ew a glance of inquiry around the room, she
went out again.
The young man opened it and read. It was
a matter of surprise to him to receive a written
message, or indeed, a message of any kind from
Squire White, and he could scarce compose him-
self for the readmg. But when his eyes ceased
swimming, and the words stopped sailing about
on the paper, he made it out that he had received
a polite invitation to pass the following day at
the residence of Mr. White, to meet some young
relatives and friends.
The squire, as he was generally denominated,
was a bachelor of a very respectable number of
years, and had a fine ruddy complexion, and
rich juicy-looking cheeks. He had his tempers
and his humors, as everybody else has ; but in
spite of them, he was a man of great acceptance
and worth the country round. He might occa-
sionally growl ; but the growl was always a pre-
lude to omething far kinder that was to follow.
In his charities, no one was before him. The
poor never went out of his door with empty
hands and sadder hearts. They always left a
blessing on the threshold.
" What a strange thing is this !" thought Al-
lan, glancing first at the note and then out the
window. " 3 oim(7 company to be at tJie squire's !
I wonder what can have made him think of me,
at such a time?"
So he mused upon it. In a few moments his
books were forgotten, and his thoughts were
elsewhere. The rain did not now seem to him
to fall; or he might have ceased to look at it,
and wonder how much longer it would come
down so steadily. He did not even notice now
the doves strutting proudly beneath the eaves,
and standing at the doors of their boxes. His
thoughts were upon the probabilities, the possi-
bilities, and the contingencies of he hardly knew
what. They were not thoughts exactly ; they
were shapeless. Thej' were a confused mass of
fanciful beginnings at thought; ragged, incohe-
rent and without purpose." And so he sat for a
long time enjoying the brief dream that had
dawned upon him.
The sun rose golden the next morning, and
Allan Moore was up betimes to see it. Strange
event, that could drive out of his mind so sud-
denly the associations that slept about his books
and papers ! Yet he did forget them all ; or, at
least, he appeared to do so.
By ten o'clock he was over at Squire Wliite's
house. He met the oldgentlcihan in the piazza.
which ho was pacing with an carne.stness that
seemed to demand good health in return for tlie
exercise.
"Good morning, Mr. White," said Allan,
saluting him with becoming deference.
"Ah, Mr. Allan Moore!" exclaimed the old
gcnlloman, turning suddenly about and accost-
ing his visitor. " Walk up, sir; pray walk up
here. You arc not going to be at all shi/ now;
you have been invited here to try to make your-
self, as well as the rest of us, hajipy. The truth
Is, my young friend, my house has been without
echoes as long as I like, and a good deal longer.
I hate to see it so lonely. So I thought I would
get together a good company of my young
nieces and their friends, and trust to luck for
beaux ! I don't see but you and I will he obliged
to take tliat responsibility upon ourselves. What
say you'? Are you willing^"
Allan was stammering for a reply. It was
like ushering him into another world.
" There's a good company of them," said the
jovial squire, " and I rather reckon they'll keep
all your wits in active operation."
Just at that moment a loud laugh rang through
the hall, and two girls came bounding across the
piazza, not yet observing the presence of a stran-
ger.
"Aha! now you've come just at the right
season," said the old bachelor. "I'm really
glad that you are so full of life, just as I am
about to present to you ray young friend, Mr.
Allan Moore. Mr. Moore, this is my I'oguish
niece. Miss Ellen Puller ; and this is her friend
and my friend, and I hope, too, she will be your
friend — Miss Mary Tiverton."
Allan bowed, and offered a remark or two
upon the very agreeable change in the weather
only the day before, and then they all walked
into the house together. There the young stu-
dent found three others ; young ladies fully as
agreeable and vivacious in their manner as those
he had just encountered on the piazza. They
were quite well acquainted in a short time.
"Now this is just what I like," said the gal-
lant old bachelor. " This establishment, I've
been telling Mr. Moore, has suffered a good deal
more for want of really jovial company, than for
almost anything else. Cobwebs form here twice
as fast as they would, if there were only a trifle
more noise to scare the spiders away. Laugh,
girls. Come, Mary and Ellen, laugh as loud as
you will. Ha, ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho !" and he
strained his capacious lungs to the utmost, mak-
ing them crow as lustily as a very chanticleer to
create the laughter he so much coveted.
This did but set them all agoing ; they broke
out into a fit of uncontrollable mirth. It was
just what he wanted ; and as tliey kept it up, he
very naturally caught the general infection, and
went to laughing at last in downright earnest,
himself. It would have had the full effect to
" create a soul beneath the ribs of death," to
witness the frolicsome tempest of the moment.
A iaunt to the grove was planned at once, and
all made their preparations. The sun had been
up long enough to dry the rains of the previous
day, the lawn looked like fresh emerald, and the
dust by the roadsides was all laid securely;
there could not have been found a finer morning
for their excursion.
It would be useless for me to attempt a de-
scription of their several modes of pastime dur-
ing the day. The merry uncle went with them,
and a jolly time indeed did he mean they should
all make of it. They carried their dinners with
them in a huge basket; and it would have made
even a full man hungry to take a look at the
many nice articles that were stowed so closely
beneath the snow-white napkins.
It was a glorious day in autumn, and the sum-
mer had just begun to lay down its weary head
in the lap of autumn. The sun was golden and
genial. There was a delicious languor floating
in the very air, that intoxicated the spii'its of any
one inclined to drink in the enjoyment of the
time. A thin haze was drawn over all the dis-
tant hills, like a veil of beauty. Through it, all
objects seemed only charming illusions. The
woods were fairy palaces, down whose receding
vistas were faint pictures of great beauty, and
among whose leafy tops hung associations of
loveliness.
They wandered off beneath the stately chest-
nut trees, whose leaves were just beginning to
be tinged with the gold of the season. They
gathered the nuts that the first slight frosts had
dislodged from the ugly burrs, and chatted and
laughed loudly as they flung them into their lit-
tle baskets. The squirrels run about blithely on
cither side of them, their cheeks filled to bursting
with the ripened corn they had stolen from the
neighboring fields. There was not a moment
that went by without adding its jileasure to its
predecessors.
It would not have required the vision of a
]>rophet to Ijehold what soon grew to he no se-
cret at all that day: and that was, the decided
partiality that seemed to subHist between Mr.
Allan Moore and Miss Mary Tiverton. She
was, likewise, a very close friend to Ellen ; but
while the young student was about, it was diffi-
cult for her to see any one else. It was a sure
case of love at first sight.
The old baeliclor noticed what was going on,
and was quite as well pleased with it as any one
well could be. He seemed, it is true, never to
have had a heart for such things himself, but
thought none the less of others for being vulner-
able at such very tender points.
The sun began to go down gradually in the
west, throwing its long bars of gold across the
lawns and through the crowded trees, and they
thought of returning. They were well tired,
too, with their day's pleasure. Rambling, and
running, and talking, had sufficed to fill up their
liours. Their dinners were eaten in the gayest
of spirits, in the dreamiest of shadows. The
whole wood resounded with the musical echoes
of their voices, ever and anon being drowned
altogether by the base "Ha, ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho !"
of Mr. White, the right merry bachelor. He
was a devoted uncle, and thought an uncle never
before had such a niece as Ellen. Maybe an
unele never had. The evening was passed at
the house of the bachelor by Allan, and, if pos-
sible, he enjoyed its briefness still more than he
had enjoyed the day.
Days flew by, each one of which found the
young student at some hour at the mansion of
Mr. White. Every one seemed very well to
know whom he came there especially to see, and
so let it pass. To tell the truth, Allan Moore
was a young man of very enviable characteris-
tics; and so would not have been quite unac-
ceptable to any one of the young ladies of the
company.
But when the time for their departure came
at length, the secret, revealed before, began to
disclose itself more fully. There were many
secret words spoken between the young man and
Mary, They betrayed more than their secret by
the silent looks they exchanged. Mary took
her leave. Her heart was sad. She came there
a lively creature. When she started home again,
her feelings had been toned as by some secret
sorrow. Allan promised herthat he would write
her soon, and with this pledge she tried to re-
compense herself for the separation.
Scarce a week had gone by before a letter u-as
written. Mary read it with rapture. She replied
not long after, begging the young man to ac-
quaint her father with his pi-eferences and inten-
tions, over his own signature.
It was done at once as Mary had suggested.
He addressed Mr. Tiverton in a letter of some
length, acquainting him with his feelings, and
begging him — though at no cost of his manliness
— for his favor as a suitor for the hand of his
daughter.
Was the permission given 1 In less time than
Allan had dared to think of receiving a reply,
one came to him. It was a brief and highly
pungent note from Mary's father, enclosing his
own again ! He assured the young man that he
was abundantly capable of providing eligibly for
the hand of his daughter, and that he need ask
no more questions of him on the subject.
Allan at once enclosed her father's note to
Mary, and begged her to be patient, putting
faith in him. He likewise took the very eflective
occasion to unfold to her all the secret feelings
of his heart, renewing his old promises and
pledges, and multiplying his former devotion for
her over and over again. She resolved to be
patient, awaiting the progress of events.
In less than four months from that time, Mr.
Tiverton received one evening, into his hands,
while sitting in his parlor with his family around
him, a small package. He knew nothing of the
manner in which it reached him. The servant
had said that a man left it at the door, and that
was all there was known aliout it.
He proceeded to open it. It was found to he
only a book, freshly from the hands of the pub-
lisher. Looking at the fly-leaf, he found thereon
written in pencil : " With regards of the author."
He glanced next at the title-page, wishing to see
which one of his kind friends had done him so
marked a favor. He read the name of "Allan
Moore !"
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
183
RcfoUling the volume in the wrapper, he hur-
ried away from the room, and secreted it where
his family would not be likely to find it. They
asked no questions, although Mary certainly
looked very inquisitively at liim as he passed
out; And so Mr. Tiverton hoped to kill that
form of the disease.
Early in spring, his business called him off on
a very long journey. He was going into a part
of the country where he would be compelled to
travel much by stages. TJic third day from
home, he was joined by another passenger — a
young man of apparently great promise — whose
conversation interested him from the first very
deeply.
They travelled together, in close friendship,
for several hundred miles; and each day the
young man grew more and more deeply into the
heart of Mr. Tiverton. He was exceedingly in-
telligent, and while his conversation was ready
and fluent, it smacked not of affectation, or con-
ceit, or pride. The event proved that Mr. Tiv-
erton became very deeply interested in him, and
kept the closest companionship with him while
they travelled together.
They reached a point many lumdred miles
away from home, one day, just at dusk. In the
morning they were to separate, each thought
perhaps forever. Mr. Tiverton learned of his
young friend's intention with the deepest sur-
prise ; and as they were bidding each other a
farewell, Mr. Tiverton drew a card from his
pocket, saying, as he did so, that it would always
give him great pleasure to receive his friend at
his own house.
The young man drew forth, his card simulta-
neously with the other, and before looking at
the one he received, he handed Iiis own to liis
fellow traveller. Each then read the other's
name for the first time.
" Stay ! stay !" said Mr. Tiverton, " you shall
return home with me ! Meet me at this point
when I reach it again — or, be at my house in
town by the 20tli. Promise me one of these
things !"
Tiie young man grew suddenly confused, so
that he could hardly speak.
" I will call at your house wtih much pleas-
ure," said he, at length, turning his face about
from the glare of the lamp. Mr. Tiverton
grasped his hand.
In a few weeks they met again at the town
residence of Mr. Tiverton. Mary was the most
rejoiced, because she met her lover again ! The
aifair was all arranged speedily. Mary was
married to the well-known author, Allan Moore ;
and Squire White, still singing out " Ha, ha, ha !
ho, ho, ho !" was there at the wedding.
There is nothing like sigld for getting rid of
bitter prejudices. It wilts them as the sun does
weeds.
— 1 »»» « :
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
BT CONRAD S. KYSEE.
Angel banda I come, hover near
This enchanting houie of Diine ;
There *s no better place than here,
There's no happier, liolier shrine.
Home, to every place beside,
Fields more dear, and flowers more bright ;
Cherished friends here noiseless glide,
Streams flow brighter in its light.
A happy home has gems of bliss,
Birds of innocence and love ;
Dewdrops every flower to Iti^s,
Sunshine from the Throne above.
Pleasure in the gorgeous sights
Of a monarch's lordly hall.
Tame to those dear home delight-s,
Where ehildhool's silvery accents fal .
Home must surely be the type
Of our heaven above, so blest;
Women, who onr soitows wipe
From their dusty place of rest.
Guardian angels, teaching all
Meeknesg, and a life well spent.
Will ensure, when death shall call,
Ajourney home to heaven, content.
AN IMPORTAKT TRUTH.
This, namely — that the misev}'' of human life
is made up of large masses, each separated from
the other by certain intervals. One year, the
death of a child ; years after, a failure in trade ;
after another longer or shorter interval, a daugh-
ter may have married unhappily; — in all but the
siugularly fortunate, the integral parts that com-
pose the sum total of the unhappiness of a
man's life -are easily counted, and distinctly re-
membered. The happiness of life, on the con-
trary, is made up of minute fractions — the little
soon forgotten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind
look, a heartfelt compliment in the disguise of a
playful raillery, and the countless other iniinites-
imals of pleasant thought and feeling. — Coleridr/e.
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial,]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. II.
CHARACTER OF THE TURKS.
BY DR- JEROME V. C. SMITH,
AUXHOU OF A "pilgrimage TO EGYPT."
Under all circumstances, and in all places,
the Turk cxhil)its a religious fervor that aston-
ishes a Christian. His prayers arc the first
thought in the morning, nor does he ever omit
the prescriljcd number through the day. It mat-
ters not who may be present, what necessities
are pressing, he will on no account omit hum-
bling himself before the throne of the Eternal.
Religious homage is not an hypocritical cere-
mony to gain the applause of men, but a duty
which is never neglected towards his Maker.
Of course, all the followers of Mahommed are
Unitarians. They believe in the omnipresence
of God, in his irrevocable decrees, liis righteous
ordinances; that Mahommed is his prophet, and
all who believe him and conform to his divine
precepts, will become inheritors of unutterable
happiness, resembling tliat enjoyed on earth, but
superior in degree.
Such is the strength of his faith, that he never
supposes or admits the possibility of an error, or
permits the intruiion of a religious doubt from
any quarter. Despising all systems of religion
or revelation differing from his own, he is per-
fectly tolerant of them all, however unlike the
Moslem creed, provided nothing disrespectful is
said or done in regard to the fold of the great
Prophet of his adoration.
Religion is a powerful machine that is con-
trolled by the state. When all other resources
have failed, an appeal to the religious principles
of the people rouses them to the highest point
of desperation and even fury. A war of exter-
mination is thepenalty of assaulting the national
faith, where the hope of gratifying a revenge for
an insult of the gravest kind is but a feeble one.
Life to them without religion, would not be
worth having.
Death has no terrors to a Mahommcdan, nor
does he entertain a single doubt in respect to his
favorable condition hereafter. Since the Koran
is particularly indulgent to those who embrace
its precepts, he not only lives in unrestrained
physical indulgence here, as a leward for un-
shaken compliance with the revealed law of
heaven, expressed in its bright pages, but a
further and transcendently greater amount is
fully anticipated in the paradise of the Prophet,
with an unlimited capacity for never-tiring en-
joyment.
Honesty appertains to their character in all
the details of social, political or commercial in-
tercourse. They cannot conceive of a motive
for being otherwise. They therefore commit
fewer crimes, as they are estimated by the Chris-
tian code, than disgrace countries that boast of
their civilization, refinements and nice sense of
honor, and Christian obligations.
A large number of misdemeanors which mul-
tiply criminals and tenant prisons to repletion
with us, are not recognized as infractions of any
law, either human or divine, in the Mahommc-
dan code. Intemperance is a vice unknown in-
Turkey or its dependencies, beyond the sad and
mortifying exhibitions they witness in nominal
Christians. Consequently, anotlier fruitful ave-
nue to crime is closed by immovable barriers.
The religious element is inborn, and as it is
developed and cultivated without interfering
with the physiological laws and tendencies of
their being, it is cherished with an ardor and
fervency inconceivably strong, because it grasps
at a further and interminable indulgence after
death. To neglect or abandon their religion,
therefore, would be to the total destruction of
their prospects in the realms of bHss.
They invariably tell the truth, because there
is no motive for deceiving. The Greeks, on tlie
other hand, are notorious for their lying propen-
sity and habitual practice of it. It was a pointed
rebuke of a humble Moslem, that the Greek reli-
gion allows its professors to He. In trade, their
proverbial regard to every stipulation, is credit-
able in the highest degree to the national charac-
ter. Neither bond nor note is requisite in tran-
sacting large commercial ncgociations. If a
merchant agrees to deliver a thousand boxes of
figs in Smyrna on a given day, they are there.
The Turk is pai-ticnlarly calm under very try-
ing circumstances. He .smokes in his moments
of vexation, but never thinks. An impulse
moves him to cut a Frank's throat, but lie
smokes the last whiff without betraying the
slightest agitation. When the pipe is laid aside,
in the twinkling of an eye, he is transformed
into a fiend, whose satisfaction is to glut himself
with blood.
Of all men, they are the most courteous. Of
course, these observations apply to the best
sjieeimens, and not to the laboring classes, where
the worst features of Moslem bigotry and rude-
ness predominate.
They dress neatly, but oddly, when contrasted
with European clothing. Still, their's is the
easiest, and does far less injury to health. No
carotids or jugulars arc unnaturally compressed
by a cravat, inviting death by apoplexy. They
never torture their heads in hard, unyielding
hats, nor breed corns on their toes in shoes too
small for the feet. Salams are gracefully per-
formed, and the salutations arc a succession of
benedictions. There is a degree of calmness in
their expression, and a mildness in their eyes,
that ill accords with that ferocity which bursts
forth at every pore when the sleeping lion is
roused. Treachery, acquisitiveness, uncontrolled
and undisguised selfishness, are prominent and
all-absorbing traits of their character.
Although excessively fond of their young
children, especially boys, their parental atfection
appears to decline as the offshoots increase in
years, till they ultimately manifest little or no
interest in them. Love for their wives is out of
the question, upon the principle upon which such
relations are established in Christian countries.
There ai*e no such sensations as moral senti-
ments. Hence a divorce follows any whim or
temporary excitement of temper, and the market
always has material for filling the vacant niche
in their household. Wives are to be had of any
description ; the more accomplished command-
ing the highest prices.
A power of concealing their real feelings,
either of hatred or approval, is even more adroit-
ly managed than by the American Indians.
When their passions are let loose, like tigers
from a cage, nothing short of al)Solute physical
exhaustion subdues their intensity. Wlien the
causes that roused them to madness, either in
love or revenge, have passed away, they become
docile, bland and mild as the moonbeams.
In the arrangements of everyday life, whether
of business or pleasure, the Turks do nothing as
we do. They sit on the floor, and never in
chairs ; shave their heads, but never the beard ;
wear turbans and not hats, which they keep on
in the house, where we uncover. Their shoes
are left at the door, but we wear them in. In-
stead of beds, they repose on divans — cushions
piled up on low wooden benches — sleeping at
night in the dress worn through the day. They
eat with their fingers, and we wiiii knives and
forks. Smoking is the leading pursuit from
youth to age. Wives are purchased, not won.
Women in Turkey are shut up in harems, guard-
ed by servants ; with us they go where they
choose, and look after the servants. They are
uniformly veiled ; here, they show their faces,
wear pantaloons, too, while the men go without.
Without assigning a reason, the Turks are su-
perstitious. One of their strongest apprehen-
sions, and for which all proper precautions are
taken, is the influence of the evil eye on the pres-
ent condition and future prospects of individuals.
Men supposed to be wise in matters in futurity,
fui-nish minute directions for warding off various
calamities. They are held in peculiar respect ;
for without them, they could not anticipate the
decrees that emanate from another world, or stay
the maledictions of evil spirits.
The evil eye is uniformly dreaded by all Mos-
lem believers. They shudder at tlie thought of
its imaginary awful blight. Thej' are truly for-
tunate who possess charms that withstand the
terrific and incalculable effects that may arise
from the mere gaze of an infidel. No malign
influences are quite equal to the bright eye of
the Christian, and consequently the clear-sighted
Mabommedan endeavors always to be guarded
and steeled against it. Even the most ignorant
Arabs in the desert defend their camels, asses
and children from the dreaded pollution, by sus-
pending sentences from the Koran, sewed in little
bags. I have often seen young camels and don-
keys thus protected, in various parts of Syria.
Servants arc frequently met in Constantinople
carrying children in their arms for air and exer-
cise, on the fronts of whose little caps and min-
iature turbans arc sacred words wrought in silver.
On the way to an exhibition of the dancing
dervishes one morning, in Pera, I passed a ser-
vant carrying a beautiful boy, richly dressed,
perhaps two years of age, on the fore part of
whose head-dress was a line set with brilliants,
of a very costly cliaracter indeed. A friend
translated it thus; "Look iiot with evil intent on
what God has given."
While the poorer but devout subjects of the
Sultan cannot afford to spell holy sentences with
diamonds, tliey hold in equal abhorrence the
glare of a foreign stranger's optics. So they
meet the difficulty with paper scraps, written by
a priest. They expect that the worst of conse-
quences must, of course, follow the wicked look
of a Christian — an uncircumcised wretch, who
takes pleasure in blasting the happiness of the
faithful. How the idea first originated, has not
been explained to me. That it has been kept
up by the priesthood, who derive a very satisfac-
tory revenue from this universal dread of the
evil eye, is quite probable. The Greek, Jew,
Armenian and Cliristian are all capable of inflict-
ing the bane.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE TWILIGHT HOUR.
BY AMANDA 51. DOPGLASS.
O, hour of the stilly twilight,
now thy beauty fills my heart ;
And warmly the by -gone voices,
To their olden music sUirt,
When earth waa an Eden palace,
And the clouds, all bathed in gold,
Seemed angels, floating above us,
While pleasant t,'ile8 they told.
When the Tviod went pighing gently,
And the waters murmured low,
■Wliile the fairies all were singing,
In the twilight, long ago.
O, hour of the stilly twilight,
How thy love has changed to me ;
And the faces but glimmer dimly,
That once were fair to see.
And of all the voices at eve-tide,
There is one T cannot find ;
Not in the music of nightstars,
Not in the notes of the wind.
Where is he sleeping? 0, twilight, ■
Tell it kindly unto me,
If his head is pillowed with coral,
In the shining southern sea !
O, hour of the stilly twilight,
Do the dainty sea shells sing
Sweet gongs, as he lieth sleeping,
Where the orange breezes fling
Their perfume kindly around him ;
And the clear wave on his cheek,
Does it kiss him gently, sweetly ?
0, voice of the twilight, speak 1
For of all the music that cometh
To me, at eventide,
None calms, until thou tellest me
How on the sea he died,
PRIDE AND INGRATITUDE.
You may rest upon this as an unfailing truth*
that there neither is, nor ever was, an v person
remarkably ungrateful, who was not also insufi'er-
ably proud ; nor any one proud wlio was not equal-
ly ungi-ateful. Ingratitude overlooks all kindness,
and this is because pride makes it carry its head
so high. Ingratitude is too base to return a
kindness, and too proud to regard it; mucli like
the tops of mountains, barren indeed, but yet
lofiy ; they produce nothing, they yield nothing,
they feed nobody, ihey clothe nobody, yet are
high and stately, and look down upon all the
world about them. It was ingratitude which put
the poignard into Brutus's hand, but it was want
of compassion which thrust it into Caesar's heart.
Friendship consists properly in mutual oflices,
and a generous strife in alternate acts of kind-
ness. But he who does a kindness to an ungrate-
ful person, sets his seitl to a flint, and sows bis
seed upon the sand ; upon the former he makes
no impression, and from the latter finds no pro-
duction.— Dr. South.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
I MET HER IN THE FESTIVE CROWD.
BY REBECCA R. PIERCE.
I met her in the festive crowd, the gayest, loveliest there,
Nor deemed that care might darkly shroud a brow so pure
and fiiir ;
I listened to the mellow strain of her song's sweet melody,
As it strangely thrilled through every vein, with its gush-
iogs glad and free.
And well I marked her kindling eye had darker, softer
grown,
When one, who gently lingered nigh, had praised each
varied tone ;
And as she bent a mlling ear to catch his hghtest words,
Ilis voice grew strangely tremulous, and mellow as a
bird's.
And once again wc met, when weary months to years had
grown,
But the light of love had faded, and the joyoas smile had
flown;
It told of hopes forsaking, though nurst in love and tears,
Thai the trusting heart was breaking with the weary load
of J ears.
18i
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAWING HOOM COMPANION.
A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED VIEWS OF THE CHARLESTOWN NAVY YARD.
_, ..x_ jls:,
L.,4fliliiiiii!
iiiiii iiiiiiiii,
.:il4iid!iiiiipii;Mi![i'ii''
NAVY YARD, CHARLESTOWN.
The view above, presented by our artist, is a
fine perspective, through the arch of the rope-
■\valk looking seaward. The visitor to the Navy
Yard will find many objects of interest to claim
a share of his attention ; and in every depart-
ment of this great establishment, there is a uni-
form neatness and order, which is always pleas-
ing, and for which this station is inferior to none
in the world. On the left hand side of the yard,
as we enter, and nearly opposite the dry dock, is
situated the parade ground, and, as a back
ground, the barracks, represented below, capa-
ble of accommodating a large body of marines,
although at present the establishment is reduced
to comparatively a few. There are but thirty
raarines quartered there at present, sufficient for
the duties of this well-regulated establishment.
The place of parade is one of the prettiest en-
A PERSPECTIVE VIEW FROM THE YARD.
closures to l)e found anywhere, and in the shade
of its beautiful elni.s, utioi'ds a, very pleasant re-
treat for lliu U'gwt'ury eentricH, durin)^ the relief
from duty, on the hot days of summer. The
marines arc under the command of Capt. Tho-
mas S. English, who occupies tbe right wing,
Lieut. J. C. Rich occupying the left. It is alto-
gether an interesting place to visit. Tlie house
beyond the barracks is the residence of Commo-
dore Gregory, and is faitlifully depicted on the
opposite page. Francis H. Orcgory is an old
and efficient otHcer of some sixty years of ago.
He has seen much service; has been a prisoner
to Great Britain, and distinguish'- d himself in
the last war. He seems most happily situated in
his present position as commander of the yard,
and has found a large circle of friends since his
residence here, by his urbanity of manner, and
refined and gentlemanly conduct. He has been
but a short time at Charlestown, but wc trust he
may long continue there. Another object of
interest, given on next page, is the rope-walk
connected with the Navy Yard. This extensive
structure, the finest in this country, is an object
worthy the attention of strangers, and will give
some idea of the vast amount of expenditure de-
frayed for public works at this superb naval
station. The whole of the cordage for tKe navy
is manufactured here; the rope-walk contains
four railways, but one of which is generally
brought into use. The length of the walk is
1350 feet; there are eighty spinning jennies,
seventy of which are in operation now; "the daily
manufacture amounts to about forty hundred
weight; the quantity of hemp kept on hand for
use is about eight hundred tons, and there are
fifty-five men employed in the establishment.
The power is derived from one of Tufts's beauti-
ful engines of sixty horse power, which, with the
other machinery of the establishment, is well
worthy of inspection. The building was com-
menced in 1832, and finished in 1837, and may
be considered a model structure for its purposes.
The principal building, as shown in the view,
contains, in the basement, the engine-room and
boilers; the second story contains the s]>inning
machinery, and the *' walks," being a quarter of
a mile in length, occupy the ground floor. The-
small building at the left is the tar-house, where
all the yams are tarred previous to spinning.
The operations are very interesting, especially
when " laying up " a large cable. The following
statistical information relating to the yard, is
gathered from Hayward's Massachusetts Gazet-
teer: "This naval depot is situated on the
north side of Charles River, on a point of land
east of the centre of the city of Charlestown,
extending along the harbor from the mouth of
the Charles to the mouth of the Myptic River.
This yard was purchased by the United States,
under auihority of an act of Congress, in the
year 1800. The State of Massachusetts, by an
act of the Legislature of that year, gave its as-
sent to the sale, under certain restrictions. The
cost of the whole purchase, including commis-
sions, was about forty thousand dollars. On the
side next the town, the yard is protected by a
wall of stone masonry, sixteen feet high ; on tlie
harbor side are several wharves and a dry dock;
except the approach to these, a sea-wall is ex-
tended the whole harbor line. This dry dock
was authorized by the nineteenth Congress, com-
menced 10th July, 1827, and opened for the re-
ception of vessels 24th June, 183.3. It is built
of bcautifuUyliammcrf.d granite, in the most
workmanlike and substantial manner ; is three
hundred and forty-one feet long, eighty feet wide,
and thirty feet deep, and cost about six hundred
and seventy-five thousand dollars. There are in
this yard four large ship-houses, various mechan-
ic shops, store-houses, dwelling-houses for the
officers, and murine barracks, besides an exten-
sive rope-walk of granite. There are, too, in the
yard, large quantities of timber and naval stores,
exceeding in value two millions of dollars.
More or less ships of war are at all times lying
here in ordinary. There is a sufficient depth of
water for the largest ships of war to lie afloat, at
all times, at the ends of the wharves. The yard
contains within the wall about one hundred acres,
and, independent of all buildings and works, the
site would now readily command more than one
million of dollars. Many improvements have
been made in it within a few years. Its general
appearance is neat and fit; and for all manufac-
turing purposes connected with building and
eqipping ships of war, perhaps no other yard in
the Union offers so great facilities. Connected
with the yard, and under the general direction of
the commandant, are also a naval magazine, and
hospital at Chelsea."
In this connection some items respecting the
city of Charlestown itself may not be uninterest-
ing. The natural divisions of this place are dis-
tinguished as Charlestown Peninsulaand Charles-
town " without the neck." These divisions are
of ycrj unequal size : the peninsula, on which,
the city is built, is only about one mile and a
quarter in length ; the tract beyond the neck is
upwards of seven miles in length. The width
varies from half a mile to a mile in various parts
of the city. Charlestown peninsula is somewhat
of an oval form, and is about half as large as
that on which Boston is situated. It has, like
Boston, three principal hills, viz.. Bunker's Hill,
Breed's Hill, and the West or Town Hill.
THE PARADE GROUND AND BARRACKS.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DHA^YING ROOM COMPANION.
185
VIEW OF THE ROPEWALK, AT THE CHARLESTOWN NAVY YARD.
Bunker's Hill is on the north-east part ; it is one
hundred and thirteen feet liigh, and is the largest
of the three. Breed's Hill (on which was the
battle of Bunker Hill, and where the monument
is erected) commences near the southerly portion
of Bunker's, and extends towards the south and
west ; its height is eighty-seven feet. Town Hill
is in the south-west part of the peninsula ; its
height has been somewhat reduced from what it
was originally, but it never was as high as
Breed's Hill. Its western base reached to the
shore of Charles River. The avenues from
Charles River Bridge and Warren Bridge meet
in Charlestown Square, an open space of two
or three acres, regularly laid out soon after the
opening of the to^^Ti, in 1776, for the purpose of
a market-place. Around this square a number
of the public buildings are situated. There
are ten churches : three Congregational, three
Baptist, two Methodist, one Universalist, and
one Catholic. There is one bank : the Bunker
Hill Bank, with a capital of S200,000. Charles-
town is united to Boston by Charles River and
Warren bridges. Warren Bridge is one thous-
and three hundred and ninety feet in length, and
forty-four feet in width. It was incorporated in
1828, and opened the same year. It is now the
property of the State. Charlestown is also uni-
ted to Boston as a port of entry, and in various
commercial pursuits. Population, about 16,000.
THE ROYAIi TIGER OF BENGAL.
This most fierce and rapacious of all carnivor-
ous animals, is a native of Asia, and is found in
many parts of that extensive country ; but they
are most numerous in India. They are ferocious
without provocation, and are never subdued by
gentle and kind treatment. They fear not man
nor any Animals of the largest size. They are
even more ferocious than the lion ; and they are,
therefore, ju'^tly more dreaded, though not of the
height, or of so large dimensions. The largest
are found in Bengal, and these are distinguished
by the name of the Royal Tiger. They fre-
quently seize and devour children and adults.
It is believed they have a higher relish for hu-
man flesh, than that of any other animals. They
have been kno^vn to dart from their coverts and
spring upon people who were walking for pleas-
ure. One apparently ready to make a spring,
wh^re there was a party of ladies and gentlemen,
wa'f alarmed and induced to retire by the unfurl-
ing and presenting of an umbrella. In combat,
they conquer the elephant and the lion. The
tiger is of the cat kind (fdts) ; and so are the
tiger and the cougar, and some other ferocious
animals ; but the panther is most formidable and
destructive. It is of larger size than others of
the kind, and its ferociousness is greater in pro-
portion to Its strength. The color of the tiger is
yellow, of deeper hue on the back, gradually soft-
ening to a white on the belly. Beautiful bars of
black streak the entire body. — Hlntori/qfAniinah.
COMAIODORE's house and QAUDKN, at Tin: NAVY VAKD, CII AlILESTOWN, MASS-
186
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for OIeanon"fl Pictorial.]
WHERE IS GENTliE MAY?
BY F. 0. BYLVANUH HURLDUT.
Mild blue cnwmpn the Bmillng nklcB,
The woodH aro grL-en iiinl ^ay ;
Tlio mead puts on Its lloral dyos,
But wboro Is gontlo May ?
Yon oIoud-cRppod hillB with moroiiig crowned,
VnHt in the lap of day,
£cho tlio voi<'o of love nround,
But where is gentle May f
I 'to ranged the green woods o'or and o'er.
In evening flluidowB gray.
While rian triinnied her nilvcr lamps,
But where was gentle May ?
I've heard the cuckoo in the bower,
The Hutc-bird by the rlll ;
And oft at erening's pensive hour,
The lonely whip-poor-will.
I've heard in Colma's aged pines.
The lovely turtle's dole ; '
And iu tlio elm tree's tressois sing
The orange otiole !
I've Reen the virgins of the spring,
Slow mount their apangled way ;
To kneel at tlio Imperial Throne,
But ivherc was gentle May ?
I 've seen, 'mid revelations grand.
Fond wood nymphs at their play ;
When cool Illissus laved the fields,
But whure is gentle May ?
Swift through the arches of the skies,
Along yon starry road,
Her spirit soars on wings of light.
To Olive'fl fair abode.
Thou canst not see her form divine,
Amid the angel bands.
Till death shall ope the great highway
To Sharon's morning lands.
Come, take thy harp ! 'mong mosses gray,
When evening wraps the plain ;
Sing of me there, and lay thy hand
Upon old Ocean's mane !
My soul will fancy that it hears
The soft receding chime
Steal from Atlantic's organ choir,
Like airs of Palestine.
Or, when beneath impending woods,
I troll the winding Dee,
My mind shall leap yon azure bars
Of space, and muse with thee.
Where Neptune thunders, me behold,
Mid eve's chaotic gray ;
And, Ella, strike the harp of love,
To chase my grief away.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GUILT AND RErKIBUTION.
A TALE OF THE TIME OF RICHARD III.
BY MISS SARAH M. HOWE.
In a rielily-fiirnished room of the roj'al palace
sat he who hut a few hours before had been
known as the Duke of Gloucester, hut now as
Richard III, the King of England. A darker
frown than ever was upon his usually sensual
and revolting features, and at times, an expres-
sion of demoniac vengeance would cross them,
rendering the dark countenance almost frightful
to behold. He was not alone ; the Duke of
Buckingham, a villain little less deeper dyed in
crime than himself, sat near him, his arms folded
upon his bosom, and his small, keen gray eyes
fixed searchingly upon the dark countenance of
liis master. For some time both sat silent; the
king seemed deeply engaged in meditation, and
Buckingham earnestly watching the varying ex-
pression of his features. At length tlie king
raised his head, and fixing his dark eyes upon
the countenance of his companion, lie said :
"Buckingham, I will no longer endure this
continual fear of tliose two young princes, which
now haunts me night and day. It is true, they,
in themselves, arc utterly powerless ; but the
hearts of the nation are witli them, and while
that high-spirited, fearless Edward lives, my
crown is not safe. If he is but dead, then I am
safe for the present ; Imt I would have his brother
Richard, who is the next rightful licir to the
throne, also beyond the reach of mortal power.
AVhat say you, Buckingham, cannot they be put
out of the way'?"
" ICasily, your mnjesty," retunied the duke,
with an air that showed that he was accustomed
to such proceedings. "But some care and cau-
tion will be needed to accomplish such a result;
for your majesty would not wish to have it
known that the young princes were murdered,
and by yourself,"
" Certainly not," said the king, turning slight-
ly jialc as the thought of what would he the con-
sequences of such an act, were it discovered,
crossed his mind. "But," he continued, "you
know it will be impossible to carry out my de-
sij^n agiiin.st them without tlic knowledge of the
lieutenant in charge of the (owcr. Brackcnbury,
the jtresent commander, is the firm friend of the
young j)rinces, and will not consent to our hav-
ing anything to do with them. He must lie dis-
charged, and another, who would be more likely
to comply with our wishes, elevated to liis
place."
" Your majesty is right in that suggestion,"
returned Buckingimm; "and I would recom-
mend Sir Jami's TyrrcU as just the person to fill
Iiis place. He is as great a villain as you could
wish, and will assist us to execute our jdans."
" But will he not betray us ?" asked the king,
turning pale at the very thought.
"If he shows the least appearance of traitor-
ship, will not //j/s silence his Hps effectually?"
asked Buckingham, in a meaning tone, as he
drew from his bosom a small keen dagger, and
held up the glittering blade before the eyes of
the king. The sight of the weapon had tlie de-
sired effect ; the anxious expression of Richard's
countenance gave waj' to a demoniac smile.
"Yes, that will silence him, as it has many
others," said he, in reply to the last remark of
Buckingham. " You are cautious, ambitious,
and almost as great a villain as myself, and I do
not fear I)ut you will carry out my design in res-
pect to the rightful heirs of the English throne,
as secretly and successfully as I could wish. I
leave all in your hands ; and, as you value your
life, give no one a chance to betray us. If you
fail, the high position you hold, as my favorite,
will be the forfeit; if you succeed, the duchy of
Hereford, which I know you have long coveted,
shall be your reward."
" Y"our majesty need not fear for my success,"
answered the duke; "for when Buckingham un-
dertakes to carry a plot into cf!cct, you may be
satisfied that it will not be left until it is accom-
plished, if such a result is possible."
" I'll trust you, Buckingham," said the king ;
" but remember, above all things, that this dark
secret must be known to as few as possible. You
may go now ; I would be alone."
Buckingham arose and bowed servilely to his
royal master, and passed slowly from the room.
When his companion had gone, the king's coun-
tenance was again overspread by a troubled,
anxious expression, and the color came and
went on his sallow cheek as if some strange
thoughts were agitating his mind. At tlie slight-
est noise he would start quickly and gaze around
him, as if expecting to see some form from the
dead rise before him, and confront him with the
long catalogue of his crimes. Such is the power
of a guilty conscience; sleeping or waking, it
haunts the man whose soul is steeped in crime,
and will haunt him to his grave.
It was near the close of the third day from the
time when the above conversation occurred, that
the Duke of Buckingham and the king again sat
alone together in the royal apartment where we
first introduced them to the reader. The night
before, the young princes, Edward and Richard,
the rightful heirs to the English crown, as the
only children of Edward IV, had been murdered
■ — murdered by the order of King Richard, who
was iheir uncle, that they might never stand in
his path, by rallying the kingdom to the stand-
ard of right and justice, and demanding the
crown that was rightfully their own ! Though
the mind of Richard was relieved of a portion of
its anxiety by this event, still he could not quiet
his conscience — that never sleeping monitor, that
punishes the guilty, though human retribution
never overtake them.
" Are yon sure, Buckingham," asked Richard,
anxiously, " that the villains who did the deed of
murdering the young princes will not betray
us ?"
" If they f/rt/e to whisper a word of what lias
been done, I will have iheir heart's blood a mo-
ment after!" firmly said Buckingham, grasping
the hilt of the dajigcr within Iiis bosom as he
spoke.
"I'll trust you, Buckingham," said the king,
in a calmer tone than the one in which lie had
first spoken ; " and as to Sir James Tyrrell, I
know he will not betr;iy me, for his only chance
of being raised to higher power in the kingdom,
lies in my retaining the crown. If I am de-
throned, and lose my power in the nation, the
scaffold will be the c!Lsiest fate he can expect. I
know he will keep the secret; it is for his inter-
est to. But the two dcsj)eradoes who murdered
the princes, I am not so well satisfied with our
present position in respect to them. They have
been jtaid roundly for the deed in good Enfjlinh
gold ; they can expect no more remuneration for
their services. It is not for their interest to keep
the secret, and it may bo to disclose it. I Bhall
never be able to quiet all my anxiety and fears
upon tlie subject, if lliey arc not silenced imme-
diately. Wc shall then stand in no fear of them.
Can you not, by some stratagem, find them
again, Buckingham?"
" I think I can," was the cool reply of the
practised villain, who was well accustomed to
conferences like these; "they may be found in
some of the drinking and gambling houses of
the city, ut almost any time of the night, when
they are not engaged in operations similar to tlie
one they executed last night. I can find them
again quite readily, I think ; and, if it is your
majesty's will, I will endeavor to do so."
" It is my wish that you search them out im-
mediately. And after having done so, use some
stratagem to get them entirely into your power,
and then, Buckingham, then silence them forever.
You understand me, do you not?"
"Perfectly," calmly replied the duke, while a
demon-like smile played around his sinister lips.
" Your orders shall be obeyed, and perfectly."
" Do not leave me alone, Buckingham," said
Richard, as the former rose to leave. "I feel
strangely to night; the images of the two mur-
dered princes seem to haunt me with an unac-
countable horror. I am not myself to-night;
but you, Buckingham, are the only one to whom
I would confess this weakness. Leave me not
to-night; I do not wish to be alone."
" I most sincerely regret that I am unable to
comply with your request," returned the duke;
" but business of importance calls me to another
part of the city for the remainder of the night.
But I will call some other one of the courtiers,
whose company will doubtless be as acceptable
as mine, and perhaps chase away your fit of
despondency."
" No, no," hurriedly returned the king, " I
would be alone, if you cannot be with me. l''ou
arc entrusted with my deepest and darkest se-
crets, and with you alone would I converse for
the present. Go now. But did you hear that?"
he asked, starting suddenly from his seat, while
his cheek became of the paleness of marlile.
" I heard nothing," replied the duke, in a tone
which showed that his own guilty conscience
was not a tittle aroused.
" I heard a footstep — light and soft, it is true,
but it was a footstep. I know it was," said the
king, in a half whisper.
" Your majesty must have been mistaken,"
said Buckingham, " for I heard nothing. A
guilty conscience gives rise to many terrors,
which prove to be only imaginary."
A terrible frown was the only reply of the king
to this bold speech of Buckingham. He did not
like to have that inward monitor alluded to, it
only brought up its terrors with more force and
power.
" I am satisfied that we have been overheard,"
said the king, "and the footstep was that of the
listener retreating. I must not pass this by un-
noticed ; to-morrow I will investigate the matter.
You can go now, Buckingham. Be cautious
and expeditious."
" I will, your majesty," was the reply, and the
next moment King Richard was alone. The
guilty king had spoken truly : they had been over-
heard ! As Buckingham had entered the room
that evening, a tall, graceful figure had glided in
after him, and concealed itself in the rich drapery
which fell in sweeping folds to the lichlj'^-carpet-
ed floor. It was the form of a woman of, per-
haps, thirty-five years of age, but whose form
was yet straight and graceful as that of a maiden
of eighteen. She still retained the traces of what
had once been the most faultless and brilliant
beauty. Her eyes were black as midnight — but
midnight with a star in its depths — for they still
retained all the fire and brilliancy of early youth,
and their piercing glance seemed to read the
very soul. Her raven hair was bound back in a
shining mass at the back of her finely-formed
head, and the brow which it shaded, though now
slightly furrowed, gave evidence of intellect
rarely to be found. The lips were finely cut,
but their curve was energetic, spirited, and de-
cisive, and told of almost masculine firmness
and determination. She was beautiful — darkly,
strangely beautiful, — yet there was no loveliness
in her proud beauty.
With her stately head bent forward in eager-
ness to catch every sound, ihc lady listened.
Not a word that was spoken by the two murdcr-
cffl escaped her ear — all was heard, and all real-
ized ! A strange meaning smile of triumph
lighted up her features as she heard the fears and
forebodings called up by a never-slccjjing con-
science, uttered by the guilty Richard, which
deepened Into an expression of perfect satisfac-
tion as she heard the Duke of Buckingham ex-
press his determination to go, and the king's de-
cision to remain alone. Then, with a step light
and noiseless, she flitted through the door, and
the heavy drajicry preventing them from seeing
her, she paiJscd out unobserved. But even her
light footstep .startled the guilty Rir-hard ; and,
though he did not then arise to discover the
cause of it, be felt a strange fear that they had
been overheard.
For some time, after Buckingham had depart-
ed, the king sat perfectly silent and motionless.
But his mind was not inactive ; it was conjuring
up strange phantasies and fears, and the magic
finger of imagination traced characters even
worse than tlie dreadful reality. Even the dark
shadows of the carved furniture seemed to be
living beings, rising before him to confront him
with the story of his crimes. Such is the punish-
ment of guilt !
Suddenly a shadow, as of some moving object
from behind, was darkly outlined against the
wall before him. He started as his eye fell npon
it, and a marble paleness overspread his features,
but he had not the courage to look behind hira,
to ascertain who or what the new comer was.
It moved towards him ; he .succeeded in turning
his head, so that he could plainly see the figure
that had cast the shadow. It was a figure under
the medium height, but straight and graceful,
and, save its face and hands, it was entirely cov-
ered by an ample flowing robe of purest white.
One transparent hand was raised prophetically
to heaven, while the other drew closer around
the form the ample white robe. With a shudder
of fear, Richard gazed up into the countenance
of the spirit-like figure. But a faint cry of hor-
ror escaped his lips, as, in that motionless, mar-
ble-like face, with the strangely brilliant eyes
gazing fearfully upon him, he recognized the
well-known features of Edward V, the rightful
King of England, wlio, the night before, had
been murdered at his command !
The guilty king knew that before him stood
the spirit of the murdered, and wiih eye-bails
staring in horror, he gazed upon the strange visi-
tor from the unknown world. It spoke ; and the
words that met the ears of the guilty king, spoken
in a voice of strange solemnity, were :
"Murderer! from the silent tomb,
To unfold thy crimes, I come I"
Without the power of moving, or uttering a
word, so completely were his senses paralyzed
with horror, the guilty king gazed upon the mo-
tionless form before him. The dark eyes of the
figure, bright with a wild, unearthly fire, were
bent upon him with a gaze that seemed to pierce
his very soul. The form was the same as that
of the young king, graceful and elegant, and the
high-spirited, scornful expression of the marble
features was the same as that which had charac-
terized the youthful sovereign. The voice,
though much lower and more solemn, partook
much of his tones, and the words, also, confirm-
ed the fearful truth, in Richard's mind, that tlie
figure which stood before him was the spirit of
Edward V, the rightful heir of tlie English
throne. It was enough to cause the guilty mur-
derer to tremble; and with eye balls dilated with
horror, he gazed upon the fearful apparition.
Again that solemn voice broke the deep stillness
of tlie room, and this time the words it uttered
were :
" I come, usurper, from the land.
Where spirits roam in shadowy band,
To brand thee with a darker crime
Than e'er wiw known in olden time!
I may not tell thee nil ; for thou
Well knowest all the dark t'lle now.
List I on thine oar my name fhall rinR :
'T is Edward, England's murdered king I"
The cold sweat of horror gatheixd npon the
brow of Richard, and an involuntary shudder
shook his whole frame.
TIic figure raised its right arm to heaven, and
again repeated the words which it had just
spoken, and this time in a voice even more
solemn and impressive than before. The moon-
beams fell .sofily through the gossamer curtains
of the windows, full npon the figure, darkly out-
lining its sliadow upon the richly carpeted floor,
and giving the figure the appearance of being
surrounded by a halo of silvery light. Its voice
ceased, and then gathering its robe closer around
its form, the visitor from the spirit-world vanish-
ed noiselessly away. But to the eyes of the ter-
ror-stricken Richard, that white-robed figure
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWIXG EOOM COMPANION.
187
b
seemed still standing before liim ; its transparent
finger pointing prophetically upward, and its
solemn voice pronouncing tliat name which he
now could not hear without a shudder.
The remainder of that night seemed an age to
the king. He scarcely stirred from his position
until the sun arose in the cast, chasing away with
it5 clear brightness the shadowy gloom of niglit,
and ushering in a cloudless day. Then, for the
first time since the strange spectre of the preced-
ing night had appeared to him, he rose from his
seat, and with a quick, nervous step, left the
room. That day was passed in searching for
Buckingham ; but he had left the city the night
before, and had not yet returned. To no one
but him would Richard have dared to trust tlie
terrible secret of what he liad witnessed the night
before ; and, as he was not to be found, the king
disclosed the secret to no one of his courtiers,
but spent what seemed to liim that endless day
in fruitless endeavors to ascertain if Buckingham
could be found. The shades of night again
closed around the earth, and with darkness, the
terrors of the guilty king, which had in a mea-
sure subsided, returned with their full force. He
had just thrown himself upon a couch, and was
endeavoring to close his eyes in slumber, when
a page appeared, and announced that the Duke
of Buckingham desired to see the king.
" Admit him instantly/' eagerly returned
Richard, springing from his couch, and standing
ready to receive his guilty confederate in crime.
The next moment the duke entered, and cau-
tiously closing the door, he stepped forward, and
kneeling at the feet of liis master, said :
" Your majesty need fear nothing now, as re-
spects the murderers of the two princes, for their
lips are silenced, surely and effectually."
" You have not found them so soon V gasped
Richard.
"Ay, and murdered them, too!" returned
Buckingham, in a tone of exultation. *'I found
them this morning in a gambling house in Leroy
street, and enticed them out to the old deserted
promenade by tlie Thames, on pretence of en-
gaging them to do more bloody work for us.
Instead of that, my dagger did bloody work for
them .'"
" And they are safe 1" eagerly asked the king.
"The waters of the Thames now roll silently
over their bodies," returned Buckingham ; " and
now you need have no more fear respecting that
matter of the princes. All is safe; Sir James
Tyrrell and myself will be faithful ; no other one
knows the dark secret."
"Buckingham," said Richard, in a tone that
caused the duke to spring to his feet, and gaze
earnestly upon his master's deathly pale features,
" I have seen the spirit of Edward V, the young
king, whom we have murdered !"
"Your majesty's mind is disturbed," said
Buckingham, with an ill-concealed attempt at a
careless tone ; " you had best retire to your
couch; a night's rest will dispel such gloomy
thoughts."
"No, Buckingham, no!" returned the king,
with a strange wildness in his tone ; " my mind
is not deranged ; I have seen tlie spirit of young
Edward, and no longer since than last night.
The form, features, voice and manner were those
of the spirited young prince ; I could not
mistake them. All, Buckingham, the influence
of the dead will yet wrest the crown of England
from my hand !"
" But, but this cannot be possible ! It cannot
be that you have seen the spirit of the rightful
king !" exclaimed Buckingham, a cold shudder
creeping over his frame, as he listened to the
words of the king.
" Last night the spirit of Edward V stood
here in this room, on that spot," replied Richard,
turning to designate to Buckingham the spot
where the midnight visitor had stood. But his
cheek blanched, and his arm fell powerless to his
side, for there, in the same spot where he had
been the night before, stood the white-robed
figure, its dark eyes, gleaming with unearthly
brightness, bent full upon him ! The king sank
powerless upon a divan, and Buckingham stood
transfixed to the spot with surprise and horror.
The features of the figure were the same as be-
fore, though a trifle paler and more solemn. Its
darkly flashing eyes were burning with an even
brighter fire, and their glance seemed to pierce
the very soul of Richard. The silence of the
room was at last broken.- by the voice of Buck-
ingham :
"Intruder!" cried he, in a tone which plainly
indicated that it cost him a great efi'ort to speak,
" why comcst thou here V
The strange visitor turned its darkly flashing
eyes upon the speaker, and, in a voice of deepest
solemnity, replied :
" The murderer and the murdered now
Meet Once again ; thy king and thou —
Thou the murderer — I the deid,
The king, whose blood thy hand hath shed!
The crown of England is niv claim ;
Ah I now thou knowest well my name 1"
"Ay, and too well," returned Buckingham,
with all the courage of desperation. " And now,
unwelcome visitor, I would know thy errand."
A few moments of fearful silence passed, and
again the unearthly visitor spoke :
" I come from out the silent tomb,
To warn thee of thy fearful doom :
De^.th — dark and fearful— will be thine,
As bloody as has been thy crime !
And thou, usurper, evtm now
My crown is falling from thy brow!
I warn ye of your early doom ;
Prepare to meet me in the tomb I"
The intensely solemn voice in which the pro-
phecy was uttered, its fearful import, and the
character of the speaker, all had their efl'ect upon
Buckingham ; and with his senses paralyzed by
it, he fell powerless upon the divan.
A strange expression, half of triumph, half of
scorn, passed over the countenance of the noc-
turnal visitor, and with one more glance of his
dark gleaming eyes upon the fear-stricken vil-
lains, it glided from the room. Placing one of
its transparent fingers upon a small spring in
the wall, which was concealed by the flowing
drapery, a small door sprang open, disclosing a
dark winding passage, the termination of which
was not visible through the shadowy gloom.
The figure glided through the door, closing
the spring after it, and with a quick, practised
step, threaded the devious windings of the al-
most endless passage. A small door at last ter-
minated it, which the spirit-like figure softly
opened, and glided into a room of large dimen-
sions, which was furnished in a style of Eastern
magnificence. At one end of it was visible a
half-opened door, through which the bright rays
of a lamp gleamed with a soft brilliancy upon
the gorgeous carpet. The silent visitor softly
closed the secret door by which it had entered,
and crossing the apartment, entered the room
from which streamed the ray of light.
Reclining in a large easy chair, before a table
which was strewn with manuscripts, sat the lady
who had overheard the conversation between the
king and Buckingham, on tlie night of the mur-
der of the young princes. Her dark hair had
escaped from its confinement, and now floated
over her shoulders and bosom, its raven black-
ness contrasting strangely with the alabaster sur-
face upon which it lay. She sprang to her feet
as the strange visitor entered, and her black eyes
sparkled strangely as he threw off the ample
white robe, and cast himself listlessly into the
chair from which she had arisen.
" Well, how have you succeeded to-night 7"
asked the lady, bending her dark eyes earnestly
upon him.
"As well, mother, as I could wish," was the
reply, spoken in an exulting, triumphant tone,
far different from the intensely solemn one in
which the fearful prophecy to the two murderers
had been spoken. "Neither of them has the
smallest doubt that I am the spirit of Edward V.
I've played my part pretty successfully, mo-
ther; for both King Richard and Buckingham
were so paralyzed with fear and horror that they
could neitlier move nor utter a word when I
left them. Why, mother, when we get King
Richard and Buckingham out of the way, it will
be a grand idea for me to personate King Ed-
ward V to the people of England, and thus gain
a throne ! I am well fitted to fill one ; I have
all the energy and spirit of a monarch. And in
form, feature, voice and character, I so perfectly
resemble Edward, that the points in which we
differed never would be detected. Mother, you
are cunning, cautious and subtle; with the aid of
your deep plotting, I may yet be King of Eng-
land !"
" Hush, Arthur! This is treason !" cried the
lady, in a thrilling voice.
But the brighter flash of her black eyes, and
the expression which lighted up her proud coun-
tenance told that in her own heart slie had cher-
ished the same scheme, that she, too, had thought
that her sonmight yet be a king. His remark-
able resemblance, in form and feature, to Edward
V, and his ambitious spirit, energy and courage,
seemed to open the way for as splendid a destiny
as ambition ever dreamed.
"Mother," continued Arthur, " I have played
the spirit of Edward V very successfully for two
nights, and have succeeded in deceiving both
Richard and Buckingham most perfectly. Now,
if I were to throw off this ghostly disguise, and
appear before the English nation as their right-
ful king, Edward V, who had miraculously
escaped from an untimely death by the hand of
the usurper Richard, I know their hearts and
hands would in an instant be with me ; and with-
out hesitating to inquire into the matter, they
would sentence Richard, Buckingham, and all
others implicated in these crimes, to the scaffold.
I should be safe, mother; and as to the time
when this is to be done, I think the sooner would
be the better."
" You are very ambitious, Arthur," said the
lady, with a strange smile.
"But my ambition may yet be realized: I
have spirit, energy and perseverance enough to
carry out the plan, and all circumstances are in
my favor. You must aid me, mother, and when
I am King of England, you shall no longer be
merely Lady Isabel Beaumonte, but a prouder
name and title shall grace one so well fitted to be
a lady of the land. Cheer up, mother ; brighter
days are in store for us !"
But the ambitious hopes of the youthful Ar-
thur were never to be realized. The next morn-
ing, both Lady Isabel Beaumonte and her son
were found dead, stabbed to the heart by the un-
eiTing dagger ! But few knew of the deed ; yet
those that did, whispered that it was done by
Buckingham, who suspected that Lady Isabel
and her son knew more of their crimes than was
pleasing to them.
The ghostly apparition that had so effectually
frightened the guilty king, was never afterwards
seen ; though Richard, to the daj of his death,
believed it was the spirit of Edward V. Though
Buckingham assured him that it was no other
than the flesli and blood figure of Arthur Beau-
monte, still he would persist in the assertion that
it was the spirit of the murdered king, so perfect
was the resemblance.
After the death of his faithful follower, Buck-
ingham, the king became even more cruel and
tyrannical than before ; and remorse, despera-
tion, and the stings of conscience, so worked
upon his outer visage, that, before his death, it is
said his countenance so much presented the ap-
pearance of a fiend of darkness, that few dared
to gaze upon it.
From the night on which he had seen what he
supposed to be the spirit of Edward V, to the
terrible day of Bosworth, Richard III knew not
a moment of peace ; the memory of that fearful
vision haunted him night and day to the moment
of his death. Such is the fate of guilt, and such
its retribution !
[Written for Gleason'3 Pictorial.]
THE SUITOR TO HIS MISTRESS.
BY SYDNEY E. CHURCH.
I think of thee, dearest, when first o'er the sea
The sun throws his day -dawning light ;
Shining cle^r o'er the billow, and dancing away,
Dispelling the shades of the night.
Our ship bounds away 'fore the freshening gale,
As I gaze on the deepening sea;
How my thoughts will revert to the cot in the vale,
And alwaytj to thee, love, to thte 1
When the storm rages fiercely, and loud roars the blast,
And the billows come thundering by ;
T\Tien our ship groans aloud ns each shock were her last,
And the storm-cloud is blrick in the sky I
While there 's death hovering near us in horrible form,
In the grasp of the fathomless sea;
Yet no fearing of danger in ever a atorm,
Can win off my thoughts, love, from thee !
No, ever before me, let come what it may,
Be it gladness or darkening despair ;
Around my rough couch, as I wearily lay,
An image is hovering there ;
A form that is lovely, and gentle, and true,
And a jewel of brightness to me ;
That form, love, who could it be other than you,
For I always am thinking of thee 1
SPEAKIIVG TRUTH.
Truth, taking it as a whole, is not agreeable.
Every man, woman andcliild dislikes it. There
are agreeable truths and disagreeabletruths ; and
it is the province of discretion or sound judg-
ment to make a selection from these, and not to
employ them all indiscriminately. Speaking the
truth is not always, a virtue. Concealing it is
very often judicious. It is only when duty calls
upon you to reveal the truth that it is commend-
able. A tale-teller maybe a truth-teller; but
every one dislikes the character of a person who
goes from one house to another, and intOr-com-
inunicates all that he sees or hears; we never
stop to inquire whether he speaks the truth or
not. Ho is, perhaps, all the worse for speaking
the truth, lor truth is particularly offensive in
such cases, and never fails to set families at vari-
ance. Silence is discretion, and concealment of
facts is judicious. — Toronto Herald.
[Written for Gleaeon's Pictorial.]
THE DEPARTED.
BT JOHN D. JOHNSON, M. D.
Hopes of our youth,
How swiftly ye flee !
Slossoms that wither
^VMle green is the tree ;
Blighted your blooming,
In earliest spring ;
Waited your odors,
Ere they take wing.
I gazed round the circle
That ever seemed fair,
Broke was the spell-tie,
One was not there !
Others still Uugered,
I lonely turned ;
Quenched was the last gleam
In my heart burned.
I turned to the graveyard,
I sought out the stone;
Winter had withered
What summer had grown ;
Spring shall restore them
To beauty and bloom,
Spring cannot waken
The trance of the tomb.
I left thee, beloved one,
As blooming as they ;
I come but to find thee
With them, swept away!
The world was my Eden,
'T was decked in thy bloom ;
The world is a desert,
It holds but thy tomb.
Mute '8 the last heart-string,
That Fate's cruel blast
Tet spared in its pity,
'T is broken at last !
It Uved in thy presence,
Now, that 's torn away ;
In silence and sadness
'Tis left to decay !
All that 's now left me
By life's stormy wave,
For affection to cling to,
Thy early made grave I
Hope after hope
Lies wrecked in its Bea,
The last and the fondest
Is buried with thee.
Hopes of our youth !
How swiftly yc flee !
Blossoms, that wither
While green is the tree !
Bhghted your blooming,
In earliest spring ;
Wasted your odors,
Ere they take wing !
MOASTKR CHURCH.
Mr. Anderson known as the " Wizard of the
North," gives in a sketch book which he has
published the following rose-colored notice
of St. Isaac's Churcli, in St. Peiersburgh, the
Kussian Capital, which has been fifty years in
progress, and is still untinished : It has four
fronts, each of which has its pediment support-
ed by Corinthian pillars. The whole exterior
of the church is of polished Finland granite, and
each of the four fronts is formed of twenty-four
pillars of the same material, red-colored, and
beautifully polished, the base and capital of the
several pillars being bronze. On the entabla-
ture of every pediment is a bronze casting, il-
lustrative of some portion of Scripture history —
the ligures of whi.h arc twice the size of life.
The entire structure is surmounted by a dome
and minarets, which seem to rise up into the
clouds, and the effect of the whole is grand and
imposing. But if the outside of the building is
rich and striking in appearance, what can one
say of the interior ■? Ji is at once gorgeous and
awe-inspiring. Tlie church on the inside is sup-
ported by one hundred and twenty five pillars of
malachite, a great stone of immense value : each
column is twenty-five feet in height by three feet
in circumference, with bases and capitals of sol-
id gold, while the altars, wltich are covered with
burnished gold, sparkle wiih thousands of dia-
monds.— Familij lleiatd.
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
BE ACTIVE.
BY WILLIAM T. HILSEB.
Look ye I time is swiftly rolling
On its axis, fast away ;
Vesper bells will food be tolling
The departure of the day.
Rouse thee I rouse thee I use each muscle,
There is much for us to do
On this stiige of mortal bustle.
Wrong to evade, and right puraue.
Plant thy standard, bold and fearless,
On the citadel of "' right;"'
Though to-day be sad and cheerless,
Let us hope for moiTow's light.
There are hearts that thou may'st cherish,
There are toiirs to wipe away ;
Smitten hopes that may not perish
■Keath the glow of fhendship'a ray.
188
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
MRS. ELLIS.
It was in 183.1 tlmt Miss Sarah Stickncy — tlie mnid-
cn name of Mrs. Kllis — tirst nppearcd before the puh-
lic in the literary career in which .she has heon so emi-
nently successful, and her three scries of "Pictures
of Private Life " soon became us popular as they have
ever since continued to he. Her mode of comhining
pure lessons of morality and niannurs with the amuse-
ment and interest of fictional narrative has Iteen suo
ccssfuUy followed up by, ainone others, " Family Se-
crets, or How to Make Home Happy," and " Social
Distinctions, or Hearts and Homes." A residence of
fifteen months on the continent lias enabled us to
prolit by a very amusinp and well written little book
entitled " Summer and Winter in tlie Pyrenees," and
the sensible remarks on travelling with which it con-
cludes cannot too strongly be impressed on all those
seekers of excitement who think that change of place
and scene will infallibly stimulate listlessncss or re-
move discontent. In her own case she completely
verilicd the truth of her motto : " I know of no pleas-
ure that will eom])are with going abroad, excepting
one — returning home." In 1845, Mrs. Ellis brought
out the "Young Ladies' Header." The remarks
which it contains on the art of reading well are sound,
judicious and usefully directed, and entirely do we
agree with iicr opinion that readiiig aloud ought to
form a part of an accomplished education, particularly
in regard to females. " If in our ideas of the Jine
arts," remarks the authoress, " we include all those
embellishments of civilized life which combine in a
high degree the gratitication of a refined taste with the
exercise of an enlightened intellect, then must reading ** '
aloud hold a prominent place amongst those arts
which impart a charm to social intercourse at the
same time that they elevate and purify the associa-
tions of ordinary life. The art of reading aloud and
reading well is thus entitled to our serious considera-
tion, inasmuch as it may be made a highly influential
means of imparting a zest and an interest to domes-
tic associations ; and of investing with the charm
of perpetual freshness the conversation of the family
circle, the intercourse of friendship, and the commun-
ion of " mutual minds." One of the highest offices
of thought, when communicated by one individual, is
to strike out thoughts from others. There are books
which operate in this manner to such an extent as
almost to create a new era in the intellectual existence of the read-
er ; and where this is the case, how vastly superior is the enjoy-
ment always arising out of new trains and fresh combinations of
ideas, when shared with others, than when only confined to our-
selves ! Books arc often our best friends, and therefore we ought
to share them together." As a poetess, Mrs. Ellis has made an
impressive claim on our notice by the production, in 1846, of a
poem entitled the "Island Queen," written with a power and
truthful energy which effectually rouse the attention, and at once
engage the interest, of the reader. In this connection we may
observe, it has been judiciously remarked that "if the possession
of excellent talents is not a conclusive reason why they should
be improved, it at least amounts to a very strong presumption ;
and if it can be shown that women may be trained to reason and
imagine as well as men, the strongest reasons are certainly neces-
sary to show us why we should not avail ourselves of such rich
gifts of nature ; and we have a right to call for a clear statement
of those penis which make it necessary that such talents should
be totally extinguished, or at most, very partially drawn out.
Nature makes to us rich and magnificent presents, and we say lo
her : " You are too luxuriant and munificent, we must keep you
PORTRAIT OF MRS. ELLIS.
and prune you. We have talents enough in the other half of the
creation, and if you will not stupify and enfeeble the mind of
women to our hands, we ourselves must expose them to a narcotic
process, and educate away that fatal redundance with which the
world is aflflicted, and the order of sublunary things deranged."
Thus wrote one of the leading spirits of the age in the year 1810,
at a time when men were rather sceptical respecting the capacity
of the female mind to exert much influence in forming the literary
character of the age. But at the present day he would not have
to lament that the finest faculties in the world have been confined
to trifles utterly unworthy of their richness and their strength ;
for the pursuit of knowledge has become the most interesting as
it is the most innocent occupation of the female sex ; they have
learnt to feel that happiness is to be derived from the acquisition
of knowledge as well as from the gratification of vanity. While
this change has been progressing, the important duties of life have
not been neglected, for at home woman still reigns, and
" As mother, daughter, wife.
Strews with fresh flower;! the narrow way of life ;"
quite as efficiently and satisfactorily as when her time was wholly
devoted to the household gods.
AIVECDOTE OF THE DOG.
Of the dog we can all be eloquent ; histoT-y has ad-
duced some remarkable exhibitions of their sagacity,
and I could relate " true Anecdotes" of some of my
canine favorites that would hardly be credited. Slill,
with all my success in teaching dogs to do marvellous
things, I never could teach them that when they jumped
up with dirty feet, there wus an injury done to my
clothcH. When they obeyed the command of " Down,
eir!" sometimes enforced by a gentle coup da mahi ,
they never could reason about the " why and bccaugc."
Nor Imvc I ever yet met with any dog, or ever heard
of any dog, that could be argued' with on these moral
proprieties and observances. Talking of the memory
of dogs, one of mine, Dash by name, was once stolen
from me. After being absent thirteen months, he one
day entered my office in town, with a long siring tied
round his neck. He had broken away from the fellow
who held him prisoner. I discovered the thief, had
him apprehended, and took him before a magistrate.
He swore the dog was his, and called witnesses to bear
him out. " Mr. Kidd," said Mr. Twyford— 1 sec him
now — addressing me, "can you give us any satisfac-
tory proof of this dog being your ]>roperty V Placing
my mouth to the doi/'s car — first giving him a know-
ing look — and whispering a little masonic communi-
cation, known to us two only. Dash immediately
reared up on his hind legs, and went through a series
of gymnastic mana-uvres with a stick, guided mean-
while by my eye, which set the whole court in a roar.
My evidence needed no further corroboration ; the
thief stood committed. Dash was liberated, and
amidst the cheers of the multitude we bounded merrily
homewards. The re-union among my household gods
may be imagined. It would be farcical to relate it;
nor must I dwell upon certain other rare excellencies
of this same dog, with whom, and his equally saga-
cious better half, Fanny, I passed many years of
happy and delightful intimacy. — Kidd's Essays on In-
stinct and Itf'ason.
AMERICAN CLIPPER SHIP ORIENTAL.
The American clipper ship Oriental, lately arrived
at the West India Docks, London, after making the
shortest passage on record from China to England.
This ship is comrnanded by Captain Palmer, and be-
longs to New York ; she is over 1000 tons burthen.
She was built for the China trade, and sailed from New York on
her first voyage the 14th of September, 1849, and arrived at
Hong Kong, by the eastern passage, January 1, 1850, being 109
days. She discharged and took in a full cargo for New York,
sailed January .30th, and arrived in New York, April 21 st, mak-
ing eighty-one days' passage; discharged and took in a full cargo,
and sailed May 18th for Hong Kong ; arrived August 8th, making
eighty-one days' passage ; discharged and took in full cargo, and
sailed for London, August 28th ; beat down the China Sea against
the southwest monsoon in twenty-one days to Anjier, and arrived
oflf Sicily in ninety-one days, and into the West India Docks in
ninety-seven days. A period of fourteen months and nineteen
days elapsed from the time she sailed on her first voyage from
New York to her arrival at London, since which time she has
sailed 67,000 miles. The above facts are taken from the log-
book. We should add that the Oriental brought into England
about 1600 tons of tea at £6 per ton, whilst all the ships loading
at Whanipoa at the same time only got £3 10s. The main di-
mensions of the Oriental are : Length, 183 feet; beam, 36 feet;
hold, 21 feet; poop deck, 4.5 feet; top-gallant forecastle, 30 fiet.
The representation given below is a fine and correct one.
THE CLIPPER SHIP ORIENTAL, OF NEW YORK.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
189
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. EALLOTI, Editor.
COiNTEATS OF OUR NEXT JVU.MKER.
" The Cave of St. Andrew," a tale of Italy and the
Rhine,'' by E. Cdrtiss Hine, U. S. N.
"The Artist-Bride," .1 fine story, by Mrs. SOPHRorniA
CCRRIER.
"' Turkey and the Turkfi," No. IIT, relating to the Roy-
al Family of Turkey, by Dr. Jerome T. C. Smith.
"Autographs and Autography," No. IV, by Wiiliam
Edward Knowles, giving the autographs of S, Gr. Good-
rich, II, Marion Sttphena, Alfred C. Hobba, A'ictor Hugo,
Jenny Lind and Otto Goldsehmidt.
" Travels in Palestine," No- V, by Rev. F. W. Holland,
givinE an interesting account of Samaria.
" Lines «Titten in Mobile Say."' by J. J. Cook, U. S. N.
" The Two Homes," a poem, by Harriet E. Benedict.
" Divine Love," verses, by William T. Hilsee.
" Lines to Autumn."
" Tlie Christian to his Soul," lines, by S. Henry.
" Leonora to Tasso," verses, by Elles Lodise Ceandlir.
ILLTTSTEATIONS.
"We shall give a fine large picture, representing Profes-
sor Anderson, the \Vixard of the North, as he appeared, a
short time since, at the Howard .\tlienajum, with hi.s son,
in the famouB Bottle Trick. 3t isa. very excellent picture,
by our artist, Mr. Rusenterg.
A very beautiful and accurate picture of the far-famed
oruitbologidt and naturalist, Audubon.
A fine and effective picture representing the late fearful
explosion on board the steamer Reindeer, Hudson River.
It was drawn for us by our artist, j\lr. Chapin.
A fine maritime picture representing the Queen's Yacht
Squadron with the royal steamer Victoria and Albert, as
they lately appeared after leaving Osborne, Isle of AVight.
A picture of the new and splendid Cathedral of St. John,
Newloundland, now building.
A fine and accurate view of the Astor Library, in New
York, drawn by our artist, Mr. Wade, and forming an in-
teresting picture of this richly endowed institution.
A fac-siuiile of the Diamond Snuff Box presented to our
fellow townsman. Dr. David K. Hitchcock, by the Sultan
of Turkey. It is, indeed, a " present worth having."
A beautiful and correct picture of the Lawrence Naval
Monument, in Trinity Church Yard, New York.
A fine portrait will be given of Alboni, the celebrated
vocalist, drawn by our artist, Mr. tiosenberg.
A truthful representation of the late Opening Dinner at
the Metropolitan Hotel, New York, by our artist, Mr.
Chapin.
A large picture representing a grand Review of Troops
in the Park, New York.
A capital picture, by our artist, Mr. Rosniberg, repre-
senting the famous Reg.',tta, at Hull, a few days since. A
most spirited and exciting maritime view.
A large and accurate scene representing the Massachu-
setts General Hospital, in McLean Street, Boston, by oui"
artist, Mr. Manning.
A Bdst of Father Ballou. — A young ar-
tist, Mr. John A. Jackson, of East Boston, has
modGllcd and produced a very fine bust of " Fa-
ther Ballou." As a work of art, it is highly
creditable to the genius of its author ; white in
so critical a matter as a likeness, of course there
will be various opinions. We discover much in-
trinsic excellence in the production.
SPLINTERS.
.... Texas contains at present some 300,000
inhabitants.
.... There is residing in Hollis, N. H., a
Mrs. Cole, aged one hundred years.
.... The government, we are glad to see, is
" brushing up " a little in our navy.
.... The historian Alison is now in the six-
tieth, year of his age, hale and hearty.
Mr. Chickering, of this city, makes one
thousand one hundred pianos a year.
.... An immense trade is springing up be-
tween China aud California.
.... Mr. Willard, the new lessee, has vastly
beautified the Howard Athenaaum.
.... Thatlittle wonder of necromancy, Signer
Blitz, is delighting everybody in Boston.
.... A young girl from Providence was ar-
rested in male attire, the other day, in this city,
The officers of the U. S. steamer Missis-
sippi boarded many of our fishermen on her cruise.
.... Mexico seems striving to irritate and
provoke our government into war.
It seems that the Sandwich Islands can
produce splendid tobacco for cigars.
.... Sir Walter Raleigh pithily defines incre-
dulity to be the wit of fools.
.... It seems that Yucatan is desirous of be-
coming annexed. That's right.
Don't seal your letters with sealing-wax
when they are to go south.
.... The dead are the memorial pillars of a
better world.
.... He who has much to say, seldom says
much to the purpose.
POLITICS.
If we can believe the stories of the two great
political parties, and give credence to the pub-
lished articles that appear daily in party papers,
touching the two presidential candidates, why,
bless us, they ought not to go at large, cither of
them, for twenty-four hours. Straight jackets
and prison bars ! what can people mean by nomi-
nating such folks, for high offices'? In room of
naming a sober, intelligent and states man -like
man, for the suifrages of the people, it would
seem as though the wnre pullers had unluckily
pitched upon two escaped convicts. This is cer-
tainly a great pity.
But are we not too fa^t in our conclusion ?
May there not be some reason why these candi-
dates. Pierce and Scott, appear so terrific ? why
they are represented to be such strange and un-
loveable characters ? Ah, there it is ! they are
looked at by these critical editors through party
microscopes, which have a magnifying power of
at least 500 per cent., and the least questionable
characteristic is at once magnified into a villan-
ous trait, and every minor fault into a heinous
crime. O consistency, thou art a jewel ; precious
in the eyes of the wise, but overlooked by the
gaping million ! Politics, fudge ! it means in-
consistency and backbiting.
Now, we haven't a doubt but that General
Scott and General Pierce are both very clever
men, good husbands and fatliers, and devout
Christians. We don't think either of them ever
committed any crime for which they deserve to
be hung ; nor do we consider either of them any-
thing very extraordinary as it regards their qual-
ification for the presidency. Epaulettes have a
great charm with the crowd, and the two gene-
rals doubtless owe much of their popularity to
these very glittering appendages. But we don't
care which beats, or which is president, only for
goodness' sake don't make them out to be such
rascals, simply because they are party candidates.
M'ORLD'S FAIR EDIFICE.
The plan adopted for the New^ York World^s
Fair building is a Greek cross, with a dome over
tlie intersection. Each diameter of the cross is
365 feet long and 149 feet broad, and the dome
is 130 feet high. There are in the building
111,000 square feet of space on the ground floor,
and 62,000 square feet in the galleries. The
structure is estimated to cost S195,000. The
building is to be entirely of iron and glass, and
is advertised to be open on the second of May,
1853. The laying of the foundation was com-
menced last week.
" Lilt of the Valley." — We have received
this beautiful annual for 1853, and do not hesi-
tate to pronounce it a gem of tlie first water. It
is pul)lished by J. M. Usher, Trumpet office,
Cornhill, Boston, and presents among its con-
tributors a sterling array of names and literary
talent.
Gleasok's Pictohi.\l. — The New York Mirror pays the
following well merited compliment to this work. — £05(071
Transrript.
In paper, type and onfiraTings, it surpasses anything of
the kind liitlierto atteui pted in this country ; and we think
the present ipsue would lose uothiug in comparison with
the handsomest London Pictorials. We are happy to learn
that it is in a highlj' nourishing condition.
Gold Digging in Australia. — A letter
from a young man to his brother in New York,
dated Port Philip, Marcli 14, states that in five
weeks time he Iiad himself dug gold to the value
of £3000 sterling, or nearly Sl5,000.
Monster Steamer. — A great steamer is still
talked of at Liverpool, to be 700 feet long, to
make a voyage to Calcutta and back in sixty
days, against the overland mail.
Too true. — The New York Mirror says, that
both lines of tlie New York and Liverpool steam-
ships practise the most dangerous racing.
< ^mm- >
Metropolitan Hotel. — This new and splen-
did public house is probably not only the most
superb in New York, but in the world !
Our next Number. — We shall present our
readers next week with a star number of the
Pictorial.
Going Home. — The watering-places are all
being deserted.
Theatrical. — Miss Cushman is announced
to perform an engagement in London,
Strangers. — Our hotels are full of them.
NEW POSTAGE LAW.
Our readers will rejoice with us at the new
and verj' liberal postage bill which has just passed
Congress, and become a law of the land. We
are glad to see that our law makers are becoming
convinced of the fact that high rates of postage
only act as a check upon the revenue and useful-
ness of the post-oflice department, while a low
rate of charge increases the income, without ma-
terially adding to the expense. The post-oflSce
law should be designed to accelerate in every
way, and to induce, by its rules, the circulation
and universal dissemination of intelligence, and
this the new law will do, by placing the rates of
charge so low as to enable all, rich and poor, to
avail themselves of the post-office conveniences
for letters and papers.
The new law, at the close of the present month,
will enable any subscriber of the Pictorial to pro-
cure his paper through tlie mail, to any part of
the United States, for twetiti/six cents per annum.
To make use of a Wellerism, " this is a law as
is a law." People can now afford to subscribe
to a good weekly paper, and receive it regularly
by mail, who have not felt like doing so before,
on account of the exorbitant mail charge. The
excellence of the new law cannot be too largely
dwelt upon, and persons will doubtless at once
avail themselves of its provisions, by sending
their subscriptions direct to the office of publica-
tion, tlius serving their own and the interest of
the public.
A CUNMAG FELLOW.
At a country church in England, at the close
of an eloquent sermon, and before the contem-
plated collection had been made, a stranger rose,
and putting a guinea in his hat, walked around
and received a libeial collection to his stock.
The minister attributed his zeal to the moving
power of his eloquence, and his own charitable
spirit; but the surprise of the whole congrega-
tion was inexpressible, when, instead of going
into the vestry, they sa%v the new convert moving
towards the door. The minister and others called
upon him to deliver up the change, which he re-
fused, saying: "My brethren, freely have ye
given, and freely have I received," and instantly
mounting his horse, which was an exceedingly
good one, he left the premises.
Professor Anderson. — This real wizard
called upon us a few days since. Unlike many
of his calling, Mr. Anderson combines with ex-
traordinary facility and perfection in his busi-
ness, a gentlemanly and pleasing address, and is
an educated man withal. His engagement at the
Howard Athenteum has been wonderfully suc-
cessful.
"The Black Avenger of the Spanish
Main." — This highly-popular novelette, having
been long out of print, and tlie demand for it
continuing, we have re-printed it in our usual
style, and can now supply all orders. It is also
for sale at all the periodical depots throughout
the country. •
P. T. Barnum, Esq. — We had a call from
Mr. Bamum, a few days since, at our sanctum.
His smiling countenance, clear, intelligent eye,
and manly appearance, prepossess one at once
in the Napoleon of showmen. Mr. Barnum has
a big heart and a generous hand, as we happen
to know.
Jenny and Barnum. — Jenny made, while
with Barnum, S302,000 ; Barnum same time
made S308,000. A rich harvest ! But after she
had left her connection with Barnum, her receipts
perceptibly diminished.
White Marble from Vermont. — Overforty
tons of Vermont marble were brought to Charles-
tovm lately. It was taken from a quarry at
Danby, and is unusually white and clear.
Death of a Massachusetts Member. —
Hon. Oi'in Eowler, member of Congress from
this State, died at Washington, on Friday even-
ing, 3d inst. He was sick but five days.
Complimentary. — Some one has sent the
editor of the Transciipt some fine tautog, which
he announces oi-Jish-a\\y.
MasiCAL. — Catherine Hayes has been rusti-
cating at Nahant for some days past. She is
quite well and happy.
Personal. — Hon. Daniel Webster is at his
farm, in Mur.'^hfield.
In this city, by Rev, Mr. Streeter, Mr. Hiram Tubbs to
Miss Sufan Ann Daniels.
By Rev. Dr. Stow, Mr. Josiah P. Wilder to SIJss Mary A.
Billings.
By Itev. Mr. Adams, Mr. Wilham S. Park to Miss Sarah
E. Richards.
By Rev. .Mr. Huntington, Mr. Sam'l Avery, Jr., to Miss
Susan Wheelwright Chandler, of Brookline.
By Rev. Mr. Porter, Mr. Enoch L. McKeen to Miss Le-
Tonia J. Brown,
By Rev. Mr. Smithett, Mr. John Sheridan to Miss Eliza-
beth Demain.
At Roxbury, by Rev. Mr. Wayland, Mr. J. C. Bennett,
of Liverpool, Eng., to Miss Ann Jones, of Bristol, Eng.
At Dedhum, by Rev. Dr. Burgess, Air, Edward Evans, of
Roxbury, to Miss Marv E. Gould.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr. Mills, Mr. William H. Jelly to
Miss Klizabeth M. Hodges.
At Lowell, by Rev. Dr. Child, Mr. Sam'l Adams to Mi83
Lydia E. Adams.
At Ncwhuryport, by Rev. Mr. Gordon, Mr. James M.
Hei-vey to Miss Lydia G. Thurlow.
At Holliston, by Rev. Mr. Tucker, Mr. George M. Pierce
to Miss Harriet N. Blake.
At Pepperel], by Rev. Mr. Cutter, Mr. Harry Brockway,
of CUntonville, N. Y., to Mrs. Maria G. Day.
At Worcester, Ebenezer Gay, Esq , of Uingham, to Mi-^o
Ellen Blake Blood.
At Nashua, N. H., by Rev. Mr. Bulfinch, Mr. Charles P.
Taft, of Putney, Yt., to Miss Mary L. Hutchins.
At VVoonsocket, K. I., by Rev. Mr. Boyden, Mr. Albert E.
Mowry to Miss Anna M., daughter of Josiah Perkins, Esq.
In this city, Mrs. Elizabeth Pearson, 78 ; Capt. William
S. White, R2 ; Mrs. Catharine Dodge, 68 ; Charles Augus-
tus Little. 17 ; Mrs. Ellen durley. 29 ; Miss Muria B. Nich-
ols. 32; Capt. Nath'l Wilhams, 82; Mrs. Lu*:y Cram, 24.
At Charlestown, Mr. Leveman Buel, 48.
At Cambridgeport Mrs. Clarissa Warren, of Boston, 71 .
At Somerville, Mrs. Mary Cobb, S3.
At Dorchester. Miss Hannah P. Pierce, of Boston, 39.
At Brookline. Miss Juliana Aspinwall, 73.
At Melrose, Mrs. Augusta B. Talbot, 29.
At Lynn, Mrs. Jerusha Rhodes, 97.
At Danvers. Mrs. Mehitable Perley, 76.
At Salem, Mr?. Judith Clark, 60.
At Braintree, Miss Dorcas F. Wild, 19.
At Medway, Joel Hunt, Esq., 70
At Pepperell, Mrs. Hannah S. Thompson, 49.
At N. Chelmsford, Frank H., son of David P. Clark, 7mos.
At Chatham, Mies Deborah S. Taylor, 19.
At Lee, Mrs. Lucy H\de, 82.
At Cumberland, N. H , Miss Sarah A. Hatch, 19.
At Barnard. Vt., Mrs. Catharine Chamberlain, of Boston.
At Athens, Me., Hon. Charles Greene, 66.
At Bath, Me., Mr. Eben Lincoln, 77.
At Saccarappa, Me., Mrs. Caroline G. Edwards, 52.
At Providence, R. I., Mr. Henry Bull, 26.
At Portland, Ct., Gen. Seth Overton, 93.
At Broeklyn, N. Y., Mrs. Elizabeth Gordon, of Boston, 49.
At Syracuse, N. Y., Mr. John Mayo. 73.
At Annapolis, Md., Mrs. Sopliia D. Gardner, 65.
At Chicago, 111 , J. F. 'White, Esq., editor of the Tribune.
At London, Eng., Mr. James H Doyle, of Boston, 23.
A §i^mmm mmmmn.
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTOEDVL
Hrrtwiitcj-Hooiit €0iit^attt0tT,
A Record of the beautiful and -useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the mo,>!t elegant
and available form, a weekly literary mely.nge of not:ible
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
• BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each papor is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerotis accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men aud manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, iu this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known Avorld,
of all buildings of note iu the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all tlie principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, witli line and accurate portraits of
every noted charaetor in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, t;iken fmm life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fi.sh of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant .'specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixtj-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it afiords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In siiort, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOLUME.
OR, Si 00 PER ANNUM
IXVARIAELT IN ADVANXE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the trit of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen p:iges each.
QC?" One copy of the Flag op odr Uxiox, and one copy
of the PiCToiuAL Drawiku-Eoom Compamox, one jcar,
for S5 00.
\Cr^ The Pictorial Drawixg-Room Companiox may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout t..i3
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents ptr single copy
Published every S.iTuaDAT, by
i\ GLEASON, Bostox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH. 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia,
BURGESS, TAYLOR & CO.. Ill Baiamore St., BalUmore
A. C BAGLEY, 10 West Third Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS. 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
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\^y^ Subscriptions receivfd at eitlier of the above place
100
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWINCx P.OO:\I COMPANION.
[Written foraiwmoii'fl Pictorial.]
THINK OF ME.
ADDUJiSSED TO EMMA.
BT JOSBPn n. UOTLEB.
Whon the orb of Jay, dcHCwndlng, etrcuka with gold the heaving Bea,
And th« HimdfH of ovo arc blending, guntlu Hiwter, think of niu ;
When tho heiLVuuH Jiru bhio, uod brightly, countleHS ntjirs thc-ir Hontry keep,
And the HiWor shadows Hprightly dnnco along tlio watore di^op.
Think of mo, BWoet aifltor, often, In nlgbt'H ntill and holy hour,
Lot thy heart with memory noften to atTectlou'fl angol power ;
Think of mo, but not in widncHH— no, 1 would not eause thee pain,
Could my power commniid thy gladness, thou shouldst never weep ftgain.
Think of mo, not in those hours when the heart is light and gay,
But whon fades lifo's summer IJowers, dearest, think on one away ;
Send thy spirit o'er the billow, waft to him a thought of lov» j
It will soothe his lonoly pillow ere his spirit noars abovo.
Ero tho dust his brow shall cover, fiifltor, he would joy to know
Kindly memories still should hover round thy heart, undinimed by woe;
Once we mot, but quickly parted by life's cruel, stern decree,
I resigned thee, broken-hearted, soon to ride tho raging aea I
Onward, onward, march I over, in tho battle-storm of life,
God ! forsake my spirit never— grant me conquest in tho strife ;
If in time no more I meet thee, dearest sister, dry thy tear,
For in heaven my soul may greet thee, safe from every human fear.
Sister! I have found life's beauty, like the Dead Sea's fruit po fair.
Tempting hearts and hands from duty — taste I and bitter dust is there !
Think of me, but not in sorrow, though between us rolls the sea,
Aak for me a brighter morrow, pray as I would pray for thee!
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. IV.
BY KEV. F. W. HOLLAND.
NAZARETH.
As far as Acre, the " coasts of Tyre and Sidon " give continual
glimpses of the beautiful Mediterranean ; and the freshness of tlie
salt sea, the melodious roll of the beach, the delightful variety of
travel, from the dizzy mountain-side, where the horses hardly drag
themselves along, to tlie hard, smooth sand of the shore, with the
occasional diversion of a swift, clear stream to ford, as well as one
can, leave a delicious memory of travel; for, over all, one must
throw a gorgeous sunlight and a cloudless brilliancy of sky
equalled nowhere save in Egypt, which make the picture indeed
" an apple of gold in a frame of silver." The Litany, anciently
the Leontes, was the hardest stream to cross, as it is the emptying
of the great valley between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, and heavy
rains render the ford very dangerous. In passing afterwards to
the north, we saw it at its mountain-source, tracked our course
by its path, nearly lost our baggage in its swollen waters, and
took a hasty farewell at last in a week of wintry rain. This was
near Tyre. But the Kishon — where Saul sought the missing
cattle, and Deborah and Barak defeated Sisera, and Elijah slew
the prophets of Baal — though a considerable stream at all seasons
near Acre, changes in other portions, like most of the Syrian
rivers, into ribbons of yellow^ sand. There is probably no other
country where the same river aUers so entirely from one season to
another. During the dry season, the immense evaporation en-
tirely absorbs many a sheet of water ; and Lake Mcrom is fed
upon by herds of goats, and the Jordan easily waded over, and
the beds of streams become the favorite roads of man and beast.
From Acre to Nazareth — an easy day's ride — is an entire
change : inland instead of coast views, agriculture instead of com-
merce, a warmer climate and a more monotonous prospect.
Rich fields of green grain bloomed under the walls of the grim
old Syrian Gibraltar ; then came stony, deserted pastures almost
till we reached the abrupt mountain which make the western
back of Nazareth.
Sepphoris, the only village on the way, a poor farming settle-
ment, is the legendary birthplace of the Virgin Mary — a very
poor legend, however, because of so late a date. The Scriptures
never mention the spot ; but a good deal is said of it in the Cru-
saders' days, as it had a strong castle, was the seat of a bishopric,
the scene of some severe struggles, and the last inland place torn
by Saladin from the Crusaders' hands.
From the general barrenness of the seashore the land begins to
improve as you advance. Orchards of the fig and olive mingle
with rich flats of wheat and barley. But, even the stones of the
desert place smile; for, around them bloom up in mid winter tlie
largest and brightest iris and ranunculus, as if the very " paths of
the wilderness " were still to " drop fatness." The fruit trees
seemed very old, and the olives — which they were beating off with
poles — hardly worth picking up. Too few travellers pass that
way to make any market, and the country is too insecure for any
one to be encouraged in building barns and storehouses. It was
nowise pleasant to travel over such lonelv roads ; a whole day
perhaps witli but a single group of travellers, and those bristling
with guns and cutlasses, in striking contrast to our own unosten-
tatious dcfencelessncss. The common people are compelled by
their colder climate to dress better than the Egyptian fellah, and
eat more — though there is no danger either of freezing or starv-
ing; of course, one meets with a higher order of peasants, with
females somewhat handsome, and males never one-eyed ; with
no absolutely naked yontbs, and hardly ever a face that has not
been sometime washed. And could the Arab robbers be swept
away, a new day woiikl dawn. Farm-houses would sprinkle over
thoso deserted valleys, cattle would low again upon a tliousand
silent hills, their graceful fertility would come back to the old
vino terraces, and a numerous peojtle miglit rejoice once more
over a land flowing with milk and honey.
But the government would have to be put into other bands;
tho Turks arc |)alsicd and withered. All that ia left of an ad-
ministration that had once to he feared, in a wasteful and ruinous
system of taxation, which kills the goose that layw the golden egg,
and then throws its body to the jackals. While Turkey itself is
so notoriously mismanaged, its province cannot expect to he
ruled with wisdom, energy and honesty; and Syi'ia at present ia
only a worn out sponge for the poorer parasites of the Ottoman
Court to squeeze. Notiiing has been done, nothing is doing,
nothing is promised, even, for the good of the country, the in-
crease of its resources, the ease of communication between place
and place, or the protection of property and security of life. An
Arab sheik even boasted to me that not a caravan could leave
Acre hut by his permission and the payment of tribute. Petra
and Palmyra we found quite inaccessible because of the wild
" sons of the desert " gathered upon these routes, requiring to be
propitiated by unknown amounts of money. A few " returned
Californians " might do the world a service by clearing out these
robbers' nests. But it is an energetic and enlightened govern-
ment which tlie land mourns for; which the European powers
owed to Syria when they drove out tlie Egyptian, which would
not compel present travellers to curse that Downing Street policy,
which swept otl^", with British cannon, the best masters whom the
country has had for many a day. Foreign interference has gen-
erally resulted about in this : the oppression of the laborer, the
impoverishing of the soil, the decay of manufactures and com-
merce. England esj>ecially has earned no favor abrood, has done
nothing for the liberty she pretends to love, and the Christianity
she professes to promote. There are Jews enough around and
within Palestine to manage it well, their numbers are increasing,
their characters have been elevated by suffering, no sacrifices
would seem too much for their own Holy Land; under the en-
couragement of any European power, they would open once more
a career of peace, plenty, blessedness and glory for Palestine.
The attention of this singular people is more and more drawn to
their ancient home ; no other people have really any motive to
seize a country so impoverished. There is neither fleet nor army,
citadel nor fortified plate to offer any serious i-esistance. The
rumor that the Messiah, whom they are daily expecting, had ap-
peared, would free the land, as by the sweep of a magician's
wand, from the unlicensed robbery of tlie Bedouins, and the mer-
ciless taxation of the Turk ; and our eyes may see the new heav-
ens and new earth !
Nazareth is the pleasantcst unwallcd town in Palestine. Its
Latin church increases the delightful impression made by tlie
generous hospitality of the friars. One is excited, too, beyond
measure, by being on the very spot where most of the Saviour's
days were spent; and the places shown as the synagogue, the
workshop, the home, the scene of the parting supper, if not such,
were likely enough visited by him in his childhood and youth
Joseph's shop is first shown, a little chapel with a few feet of gar-
den in front, and a single good sized room, with a semi-ciroular
retreat opening out of it, large enough certainly for a poor man's
work -bench and a carpenter's lumber. The house is much larger;
occupying, as everybody knows, a spacious grotto under the Cath-
olic Church, having several rooms, each with its own tradition,
and a small altar where lights are kept perpetually burning.
Similar rocky caverns are used about Nazareth for stables, mills
and workshops; but this was evidently too large for a family
neither wealthy nor numerous, and centuries passed before the
spot was designated. The last curiosity shown was the poorest
in probability. In a small arched chapel at another part of the
village, a stone, eight feet by three, was declared by papal author-
ity the very table at which Jesus supped with his disciples after
the resurrection. But no doubt the Fountain of Mary, where
such numbers of females gather still on a holy day, was there in
the Saviour's time; for the watering places know no change in
the East, and it was not hard to believe that the pure aft^"ection of
the Holy Mother still hovered as a benediction over these kind-
looking, sweet-faced sisters of Nazareth.
I have never met any one who was not charmed with Nazareth.
The air of industry, comfort, neatness and piety soothe the spirits
which have been sorely tried in the " coasts of Tyre and Sidon."
The village does not lie on a plain, as the books say, but along
the eastern side of a consideral)le mountain. The stone houses,
generally two stories high, are in good repair. The roofs are
flat, and much used in the summer. The males appeared to bo
busy, and the females, with their uncovered faces and gay shawls
twisted around the waist — the universal Syrian style — had a very
Christian air. The services of the principal church — that of the
Annunciation, fully attended twice a day, particularly by men and
boys — were so heartily performed, the music was so sweet, the
chant so simple, that I was more affected than at any other
Syrian worsliip. And, though European dresses cannot be seen
kneeling on tliat wora pavement once in a month, yet no head
was turned, no finger lifted, as we took our place among those
earnest worshippei's. Half the population, perliaps three thou-
sand, is Christian, the rest Moslem. The Christians arc divided
into several sects — divided in feeling, I regret to say, as well as in
places of worship ; only the Turks have but one faith, one bap-
tism, one master. The schools seem to be the chief good which
the Franciscans are doing the country ; and were they of a higher
character, and conducted by men not l)lind leaders of the blind,
they would gradually elevate the whole population, and result in
a race capable of retrieving a name now so disgraced by the in-
temperance and quarrelsomeness of the Syrian Christians.
[Written for Qleanon'8 Pictorial.]
AUTOOIiAlMIS AN!) AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTrNGUISHED INDrvrDUALS.
No. III.
BY WM. EUWABD KNOWLEB.
^<
'a-i--^.^^(^
,i:^C^^^j*--r^^^^<z--c-- -
The recent death of Rev. Hosea Ballou adds especial in-
terest to his autogi'aph. His manuscript wa.s very similar to the
signature — clear, distinct, and faultlessly accurate in every par-
ticular, forming a strong analogy in this respect with his Hfe.
His hand was bold and steady, even at the age of 81 years, at
which period the original of this autograph was written. Mr.
Ballou lias been a public minister for the past sixty-one years.
A life of him by the editor of the Pictorial has just been issued.
The handwritingof John Neal is decidedly bad. It is illegible
in the extreme. However, he possesses an energetic and power-
ful mind, though vacillating and unsteady. His poems are dis-
tinguished for bold and startling imagery, and his prose for sharp
and racy point. The signature is a pretty good specimen of his
chirography.
There is no sweeter poet living than Park Ben.iamin. His
sonnets are among the most beautiful in the language. He has
been connected for many years with several publications of the
day, though mostly in the editorial way. He has written some
good prose ; but the closer he keeps to poetry, the better it will
be for his reputation. His handwriting is a good one, though
when excited, very illegible. In this respect, he resembles Wash-
ington Irving.
GfC^^ ^catfc:e)
Eliza Leslie has written much for the different magazines
and publications of the day. Her handwriting, we think, 13
rather over-effeminate. It is extremely diminutive, and the let-
ters as separate from each other, as the difterent sentences. Her
manuscript is extremely neat and legible, the words ending with
an inward twirl.
-^^n^.^ ^^^
Mrs. Emma C. Embury is one of the most original female au-
thors we have. And her handwriting strongly suggests force and
originality. Her talents are not properly appreciated by the
American public. But future fame in her case will far exceed
present popularity.
Xrf'
Ozc^^ •
H. F. Gould is an exceedingly precise and cautious writer.
Her handwriting is neat, legible and carefully finished. The sig-
nature aflbrds a pretty good idea of the manuscript, suggesting
combined caution and finish. The same characteristics are visible
in her poems, which bear evidence of having been written care-
fully, and after much thought and trimming. Miss Gould's ia
what may be termed a finished style.
qA^^^^^
Mrs. Sarar J. Hale is a bold and masculine writer. Her
handwriting is broader and much heavier than the chirography
of most of the female authors. It is illegible and extremely
scratchy. The a's, o's and p's are all alike, and the k's and/'s
vary but little in form.
^^^
rg^--^
C. M. Sedgwick writes a very beautiful hand. The letters
are distinet and well formed, conveying the idea of perfect freedom
and grace. Tho .signature is a perfect type of the chirography,
and is strongly suggestive of the natural cliaracteristics of the
writer. The authoress is well known to our readers, by her re-
fined and beautiful contributions to literature.
L^ , y^~ ~j U- cLw'^^
Mrs. E. C. Stedman is now winning for herself many flatter-
ing evidences of the due appreciation of her talents by the Amer-
ican people. Her poems are extremely graceful, and lier jjrose
spirited and animating. The manuscript, though small, possesses
much force and vigor.
GLEASON'S PICTOPdAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
191
A WONDERFUL WORK OF ART.
Calling into Cotton's, Tremont Row, the other
morning, we were much impressed by the view
of a highly-finished bust, in marble, of a female
head. The profile is purely Grecian, and re-
minded us of some of Canova's creations ; while
the front view possesses much individuality as
well as grace. The hair is adorned with flowers,
and a star beautifully wrought. The superficies
of this bust are exquisitely chiselled, approaching
nearly, if not equaling, in its admirable finish
and fleshy texture, the marvellous workmanship
of Powers. Our surprise was great when we
learned that this was tha proluction of a young
American lady, not out of her teens, and was
wrought by her own hands out of the rough mar-
ble, from her own design. It is only tlie third
attempt she has made in an art in which she
seems destined to take a high rank, and to which,
we learn, she intends to devote all her powers.
In pursuance of this purpose, she will visit Italy,
and pursue her studies there for several years.
CURIOUS HISTORICAL FACT.
During the troubles in the reign of Charles I,
a country girl came to London in search of a
place as a servant-maid ; but not succeeding, she
hired herself to carry out beer from a warehouse,
and was one of those called tub women. The
brewer, observing a good-looking girl in this low
occupation, took her into his family as a servant,
and after a short time married her. He died
while she was yet a young woman, and left her
the bulk of his fortune. The business of brew-
ing was dropped, and Mr. Hyde was recom-
mended to the young woman as a skilful lawyer,
to arrange her husband's affairs. Hyde, who
was afterwards Earl of Clarendon, finding the
wido^v's fortune considerable, married her. By
this marriage there was no other issue than a
daughter, who afterwards became the wife of
James II, and mother of Marj' and Anne, queens
of England.
BEAUTIFUL SENT13IEXT.
An Irish schoolmaster, who, whilst poor him-
self, had given gratuitous instruction to certain
poor children, when increased in worldly goods,
began to complain of the service, and said to his
wife he could not ailbrd to give it any longer for
nothing, who replied ; " O, James, don't ! a poor
scholar never came into the house that I didn't
feel as if he brought fresh air from heaven with
him. I never miss the bit I give them ; my
heart warms to the soft, homely sound of their
bare feet on the floor, and the door almost opens
of itself to let them in."
SHARK CAUGHT.
We leam from the Transcript that two young
lads, living in South Boston, who were fishing in
Back Bay, a day or two since, caught a young
shark. It appears that the little fellows were
busily fishing, when, all at once, one of them had
a most tremendous jerk at his line, nearly pull-
ing him overboard. The boy immediately called
for assistance, and after much fretting and wor-
rying on his sharkship's part, he was finally
dragged on the banks. He measured about three
feet in length, having five rows of teeth.
AN ADOl^ED CITIZEN.
Thomas Francis Meagher recently declared
his intention of becoming a citizen of the United
States, in the Supreme Court, and took the fol-
lowing oath : " I, Thomas Francis Meagher, do
declare upon oath, that it is bonajidc my inten-
tion to become a citizen of the United States,
and to renounce for ever all allegiance and fideli-
ty to any foreign prince, potentate or sovereign-
ty whatever, and particularly to tlie Queen of
Great Britain and Ireland, of whom I am now a
subject."
CosTLv Dwellings. — A correspondent of
the Atlas says there are at least four hundred
dwelling-houses in this city which are appraised
at above §20,000. There are several at S50,000
and upwards, and one house, with the land con-
nected with it, is taxed for upwards of $100,000.
Sorry for it. — The editor of the Times
heads an article : " Ipswich moving." This
pleasant town has heretofore enjoyed a very ad-
mirable location on our Atlantic seaboard !
Musical. — ^Dwight's Journal says, that all
the principal musical societies of Boston have
volunteered to take part in a grand opening con-
cert, at the new Music Hall.
lHausiic iSatljerings.
Barnum pays Tom Thumb $200 a week.
The population of Detroit is 26,048. In 1832
it numbered only 1422 souls.
Up to July 30, there arrived at Quebec 25,184
emigrants, an increase of 20 over the same in
1851.
It is estimated that there are fifty thousand
pounds of opium annually retailed in New York
city.
There are four thousand five hundred lan-
guages throughout the world, besides the lan-
gnagc of the eyes.
Twelve children of the Crows, Black Feet and
Chiane Indians have arrived at St. Louis, to be
trained in civilized society.
There are eighty-three resident clergymen of
the Protestant Episcopal Church in the city of
New York, and twenty in Brooklyn.
The flag that waved over Fitch's first steam-
boat, in 1789, has been presented to the National
Institute at Washington.
Wanted in England : A few Yankee sailors to
sail the yacht America — the English tars not
knowing how to manage her.
Henry Clay in 1844, on being applied to by a
lady to write some verses in her album, replied :
"I never wrote a line of poetry in my life."
A powder mill, belonging to Mr. J. Carkin of
Bennington, exploded, Saturday morning. Loss
about S3 000.
Mr. Wm. Simpson, of Laivrence county, Indi-
ana, on the 2l3t ult., cradled ten acres andahalf
of oats in ten hours. Can anybody beat if?
Seven young ladies received the degree of
Mistress of Arts, a week or two since, at the com-
mencement of the Ohio Female College !
Horses are carried by railroad fjom Cincinnati
to New York for $13 a head ; and the omnibus
proprietors procure their supply from that section.
Tlie constabulary force of Ireland is over
twelve thousand persons, who cost the govern-
ment over two millions and a' half of dollars
annually.
Since 1790, the whites of South Carolina have
multiplied at the rate of 93 per cent., the whiles
of Massachusetts have multiplied in the same
time 293 per cent.
Mary Mabee, aged IS years, drowned herself
by jumping off the dock, in Philadelphia, on the
night of the 24th ult. Domestic difficulties im-
pelled her to the commission of the deed.
The Pittsburgh Union has three men in that
office that can set 13,000 ems each, solid matter,
in ten hours, and one who will set 16,000 in the
same length of time for a wager of ©500.
The wheat crop of Wisconsin exceeds every
thing the AVatcrtown Chronicle says, that has
ever been seen in that or any other State. The
yield will average from 20 to 25 bushels per acre.
Orders have been received at Norfolk to put in
commission the iron steamer Alleghany. She is
destined for an exploration of the Chinese seas
under command of Capt. Ringgold.
The Oswego Times describes a machine to
prevent steam boiler explosions. The principle
upon which it acts is that of a feeder, which will
keep the water in the boiler always at the same
height.
John Murphy, aged 40 years was found dead
in a barn about half a mile east of Tarrvto\\Ti,on
the 23d ult. He was reported to have been
drunk. Coroner's verdict — congestion of the
brain, caused by intemperance.
An analysis of the cucumber, by Prof. Salis-
bury, of Albany, shows that ninety-seven one-
hundredths of the fruit arc water. This is more
than the water-melon, which contains ninety-foiu-
parts. The musk-melon contains ninety.
A mad dog entered Rev. Mr. Damon's church,
at North Chelsea, Sunday afternoon, during the
services, causing great terror to the congregation.
An intrepid young man took him by the nape of
the neck and ejected him, when he was shot.
" God bless those ivho pay visits — short ones."
(Arabic.) A capital saying, though one would
have thought that Arabia was the very last place
it could have come from. The visitor had only
to propose to relate a story, and he might stay
as long as he liked.
A good business seems to have been done this
season by the Vineyard fishing boats. The Ed-
gartown Gazette says, "Four hundred and eighty-
three sword fish were taken up lo Wednesday
night of hist week. The greatest number taken
by any one boat was 100, and the lowest 29.
A number of workmen have been engaged for
some time past in removing obstructions from
the channel in Taunton river. Some very large
rocks weighing from 30 to 50 tons Jiave been re-
moved, which will greatly improve the na\iga-
tion of the river, and allow the use of a much
larger class of vessels than heretofore.
In Western Virginia there resides a man about
thirty years of age, whose matrimonial history is
as follows : when he was a child his father died.
His mother soon married a very young man, and
died. His step-father, but 13 years older than
himself, manied a young wife and died, when
our hero married his step-mother.
The Metropolitan Hotel, New York, just fin-
ished, is the most splendid on the American con-
tinent. Its mirrors cost 818,000; silver ware,
814,000; carpets, drapery, linen, etc., 540,000;
cabinet furniture $50,000 ; the whole coming up
to 8150,000. The building cost $500,000 ; the
land $300,000— total $950,000.
JToreign iHisaUang.
A company of passport counterfeiters were
recently discovered in Prussia.
A company of " American Ethiopian Screna-
dcrs" are giving concerts at Calcutta, India.
At one time, in Paris, the architects were
obliged to raise, to lower, or enlarge their doors,
according as the dress of the women varied.
Louis Napoleon has ordered the Due d'En-
ghcin's monument, in the Chapel of Vincennes,
to be defaced ! Magnanimous man !
One hundred and fifty words and forty-eight
stops were telegraphed, in two minutes, by an
improv'ed instrument, lately, in England.
Several French naval officers have oflPered their
services to the British government in aid of the
search for Sir John Franklin.
Most of the French exiles now in London, in
consequence of the coup d'etat of December, are
in circumstances of great privation.
Considerable uneasiness is felt by the govern-
ment because of the circumstance that large
numbers of French refugees are assembling at
Jersey and the other channel islands.
We have changed summers with Europe this
year. While we have been shivering, Europe
has been dissolving; and while our early sum-
mer was rainless, Europe was deluged.
A new toy, for the amusement and exercise of
children, has been invented in England, called
the Nursery Yacht. It has a "sea-saw" move-
ment, is quite safe, and promises to rival the
" baby jumpers."
Letters have been received from Captain Ingle-
field, stating that the Isabella has made a good
passage to the Orkneys, and that he expects to
proceed, without loss of time, on his voyage to
Baffin's Bay.
"Two years hence," says a London paper,
" it is probable a floating hotel will pass month-
ly from England to Calcutta in thirty days, car-
rying passengers at half the present overland
charges !"
The total length of the railroads in Great Brit-
ain is 6890 miles, constructed at an average cost
of 8200,000 a mile, all with double tracks. The
total length of the railroads in the United States
is 10,000 miles, constructed at an average cost of
$25,000 a mile.
During the time the late Sir Robert Peel was
premier. Lady Jane Peel was in the habit of past-
ing all the articles which appeared in the news-
papers against him on a screen. " Well, there
is nothing very singular in that ; it is but the
duty of every good wife to sa-een her husband's
faults."
lobr's Suiget.
Sanli0 of ©olir.
.... We often miss our point by dividing our
attention.
.... The object of our pride is often the cause
of om misfortune.
.... Avarice often misses its point, through
the means it uses to secure it.
.... The wants and weaknesses of individuals
form the corrections of society.
.... The injuries we do, and those we suffer,
arc seldom weighed in the same scales.
.... It is often more prudent to suppress our
sentiments than either to flatter or to rail.
.... Nothing is more precious than time, and
those who misspend it are the greatest of all
prodigals.
.... Men who meditate mischief, suggest the
same to others ; and generally pay dear for their
froward gratifications.
.... There is nothing more universally com-
mended than a fine day ; the reason is, that peo-
ple can commend it without envy.
Drunkenness is the parent of most other
vices. It quenches the saluiaiy power of reason,
and makes us the sport of raging passion.
Vanity and idle curiosity are qualities
which generally prove destructive to those who
suffer themselves to be governed by them.
.... True religion is cheerful. It infringes
upon no duly which we owe to our fellow-crea-
tures ; upon no pleasure which accords wilh right
reason.
.... Youthful minds, like the pliant wax, are
susceptible of the most lasting impressions ; and
the good or evil bias they then receive, is seldom
or ever eradicated.
.... So long as we fancy ourselves the mere
creatures of a day, at liberty to please ourselves,
and do what we will with our own, we must ne-
cessarily be triflers.
.... An easy way of openness and candor
agrees with all humors ; and be that is ever so-
licitous to conceal a defect, often docs as much
as to make proclamation of it.
.... He who thinks he sees another's estate
in a pack of cards, or box and dice, and ventures
his own in pursuit of it, should not repine, if he
finds himself a beggar in the end.
.... He who sedulously attends, pointedly
asks, calmly speaks, coolly answers, and ceases
when he has no more to say, is in the possession
of some of the best requisites of man.
.... The virtue which we gather from a fable
or an allegory, is like the health we get by hunt-
ing ; as we are engaged in an agreeable pursuit,
that draws us on with pleasure, and makes us
insensible of the fatigues that accompany it.
Why are " cullerd pussons " first rate to whis-
per a secret to ■? Because they always keep dark.
A little man grown jealous. We know of
nothing to compare him to, unless it's a bottle of
ginger-pop in a high state of rebellion.
A man down South advertises a few choice
rattlesnakes for sale, and appends a hint to such
as do not wish to purchase, that they must not
handle the goods.
Diddlers — Well-dressed young men who spend
their lives in sucking in " cobblers " and shoe-
makers— the former through a straw, and the lat-
ter out of a new pair of boots.
A gentleman who has travelled from Boston
to Marshfield, thinks there can be no "free soil"
between the two places. An opinion probably
caused by the fourteen tolls he paid.
"Tom," said a man to his friend, a day or
two since, "I think it higlily dangerous to keep
the bills of small banks on hand now-a-days."
" Tim," said the other, " I find it far more diffi-
cult than dangerous."
Old Mrs. Pilkins was reading the foreign
news by a late arrival, " Cotton is declining !"
exclaimed the old lady. "Well, I thought as
much ; the last thread I used was remarkably
feeble !"
A person meeting an old man with silver
hairs, and a very black, bushy beard, asked him :
" How it happened that his beard was not so
gray as the hair of his head V " Because," said
the old gentleman, " it is twenty years younrfe}-."
A very worthy and respectable gentleman
from Portland, who occasionally takes a "smile,"
was asked by a friend how he managed to get
along where the Maine liquor law was so rigidly
enforced. "Ah, sir," he replied, " like a good
Christian, I go to my closet !"
Mrs. Harris says the first thing she heard
when she went on board a ship, was an order
from the captain to " weigh the anchor," and
that, too, when he knew there wasn't a scale
within ten miles. The old lady has looked upon
ship captains as fools ever since.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes Ist and 2d of the Pictorial DuAWiNa
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a nuperb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Four and Five Hundred Fages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Event.=i all over the world ;
Gf Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Citiea, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUJIINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilhant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustratiOHS, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poeme and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, ^vith a current
News Record of the times; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrationa.
For sale at the Pubhcation Office, by our Wlaoleuile
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depota throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNION.
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND 11EFL\ED
Miscellaneous Family Jovimal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize biles, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEE POU THE MTLLION",
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO TILE UO>IE CIJtCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading zueekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
60 condensed as to enable us to ;jive the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus olfenng the entire sheet, which i3 of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the genera] reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most linished and per-
fect system that expariHnce can .suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the mean^ nor the mil. we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
©lEH^nSS'iv.ai IFAIPIllEc,
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEillS TO STTBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 diihscribers, " 5 03
4 •' '• 0 00
5 " " 11 00
Id « ' 20 00
One copy of the Flag of our Union, and one copy of the
pjcToniAL Drawino-Room Oompanio.n. one year, for So 00.
[HT' Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, oa the above terms.
^TT' AU orders sknuhl be addressed. POST PAID, to the
Plbhsiier of the Flag o? oi;a Umo.v.
*^' The Flag can b'i obtained at any of the newspaper
depots in the United Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOL'K CENT3 per single copy.
F. GLEASON.
Publisiier akd PiiopiuEToa, UoBTOx, MAas.
192
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DllAWlNCx ROOM COMPANION.
LANDING AT EASTHAM FOR THE CAMP MEETING.
PRAYER MEETING IN A TENT.
A DAY AT A CAJ>IP MEETING.
The scenes which we present on this pap^e are
truthfully depicted by our artist, whose experi-
ence in visiting: the spot is as graphically given
herewith. Wc arc in the steamer Naushon for
the purpose of attending the Methodist Camp
Meeting at Eastham, but unluckily a long, low
swamp of level sand and shallow water inter-
venes between us and the sliore, and we have,
consequently, to embark in a boat whose sails are
flapping against their masts, at the side of the
steamer. Wc descend into it. It is large enough
on ordinary occasions to carry twenty passengers
without discomfort. But what is the matter'?
We have already forty in it at the least. " You
do not mean to take any more ?" The boatman
iinswers, " 0 yes; we carried seventy yesterday,
and we can manage to do as much to-day." And
accordingly more and more are squeezed into it,
until, at length, sixty-seven in all, we quit the
side of the Naushon. Away we run, heeling
over with the wind, and occo'iionally taking the
salt spray of an impudent wave in our faces, as
we peer curiously over its side at several square
looking pill-boxes — for so they seem — drawn,
some by one, and some by two horses, which are
struggling with the waves nearer in to the shore.
Y'"et what is our astonishment, as we come up to
the first of these, to see the anchor let go, and as
the boat swings round with the tide, to hear the
voice of a jolly-looking driver, in brown Holland
coat, and cloth cap, emerge from the front of
what we supposed a pill-box, but is a vehicle,
asking who wanted to be set ashore first. We
spring in, to find eight m.orc individuals stowed
alongside of us like bales of cotton, and off we
are driven, helter-skelter, the horses stumbling,
and the water plashing round us, some quarter
of a mile through the receding tide. "Plague
take it," shouts an unphilosophical fellow-adven-
turer, as he is jerked from a place in the comer
of the car on to our hat, which it flattens, while
wc feel a msh of cold water from the other side,
drenching the netlier portion of our persons.
This for the moment completes our misery. We
repair to Millennial Grove, where the Camp
Meeting is held. The hour for the evening ex-
ercise is now gradually approaching, and noth-
ing can be move gratifying to the chance observer
than the order and regularity which marks those
who attend it, while nothing can well be gayer
and more agreeable than the aspect of the whole
scene. Scores of lamps spot the trees which
grow among the benches arranged before tlie
long and narrow stage from which the exhorta-
tion is to be delivered, and which is now filled
with clergymen, and a congregation of consider-
ably more than a thousand. In the morning we
retum in time to attend the ten o'clock prayer
meeting; but let us advise any of our friends
who have an inclination to attend a camp meet-
ing at Eastham, lo inspect the weather-glass be-
fore they take their place in the steamer — for
scarcely do we arrive on the ground, and the
congregation assembles, than the rain begins,
and drives tliem within their tents. Very perse-
veringly did it pour down until four o'clock,
when wet and weary we repair to a boat, and
cruise about the coast in the fog which is settling
down upon the waters, until the steamer's paddle-
wheels are heard. In a few minutes we are on
board and on our way to Boston.
EXHORTATION AND PREACHING AT THE CAMP MEETING AT EASTHAM.
F. GLEASON,
( CORNER BROMFIELD
( AND TREMONT 3TS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1852.
s2 per volume,
10 ct8. single.
Vol. III. No. 13 —Whole No. 65.
PROFESSOR ANDKRSON.
The engraving, presented by our artist, Mr.
Rosenburg, below*, represents Professor An-
derson, as he appeared, a few days since, at the
Melodeon, in this city, in the famous bottle
scene, assisted by his little son. Tiiis trick with
the bottle is certainly a most incomprehensible
one, and almost incredible to one who has not
witnessed its performance. Hi^ "bottle" cer-
tainly is the greatest wonder of modern times.
Brandy, rum, gin, whisky and wines, flow from
it in streams. We could understand bow a bot-
tle could be constructed to give the different
liquids, but we are at a loss to know the quantity.
A gallon is poured from a common fjiiart bottle.
One can, throughout our great Union, recom-
mend Professor Anderson as the most incompre-
hensible and gentlemanly performer we have
ever seen in the mystic art ; and we are gratified
to know thit his success is fuUv commenhuri.te
w ith Ills merit On page 20o will be found a full
description of the subject of our engraving, and
a more elaborate mention of his character and
experience as a performer of necromancy, or na-
tural magic. Tlie truthfulness of the fine picture
given below will be recognized by any one who
has "witnessed the professor's public perfonuances
which have proved so popular in this city.
/^?7J>£'A'£S'?t- ^£i
PROFESSOK ANDEttSON, THE WIZaKl* ^4, ']i\^ t^ORIlI, AT TH'P ^lELOpEQ^[, HOSTON,
194
GLEASON'S PICTOIIIAL DRAWING ROOM CO:\[PANIOX.
A ROMANTIC STORY OF INCIDENT AND ADVENTURE^^^
Entered according to Act of Congress, in llio year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clerli's Office of the
, District Court of Massachusetts.
[written EXI-KESaLY KOK GLEASON'B riCTOKIAL.]
— OB, —
9
21 (!5rapljic ffiaU of Spain, Italg anlr GEuglantr.
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[continued.]
CHAPTKR IX.— [continued.]
"When Bernard dc Nortlc csciipcd witlt Cor-
rinnc Almanza, in the midst of the confusion and
apparent peril of the secne of tlie burning, the
sweet girl saw only her deliverer in the man who
urged her to fly from tlic danger that threatened
them. When tiic prancing stccd.s were brought,
all caparisoned, at the word, a thought of the
strangeness of this event crossci her niind, for
an instant, and she did not exactly comprehend
the matter.
With the readiness and tact which always
served him in these little emergencies, liowevcr,
Bernard observed her momentary rmeasincss,
and he quickly anticipated her inquiries.
" Loved one," he said, "let me urge you to
hasten. My own favorite steed, as you see, has
been saved from destruction, through the exer-
tions of my servant, .and his horse, also, is here,
at your service. You will recognize your own
saddle and appointments, which Pierre contrived
to rescue, as well ; and now, if you will, we may
mount and fly from the pursuit which threatens
This appeal was sufficient. Corrinne saw that
tlie buildings must be destroyed ; Don Miguel
had been left senseless in the ruins ; jjeril, if not
death, was evidently behind her ; and she decided
to accept her lover's offer. So, springing into
the saddle, she joined Bernard at once, and
dashed on through the wood toward the next
village.
Daylight broke as they entered this small
town, bearing the terrible intelligence of theat-
tack of the banditti, and the sacking of Don
Miguel's dwelling. After a hasty repast, Ber-
nard proposed to Corrinne to keep on. He
deemed it unsafe to tarry in so small a place, and
hinted that he had friends beyond, to whose care
he could consign his loved charge, while in per-
son he proposed to return to the hacienda, and
learn the details of the attack, and the fate of her
guardian. The proposal was accepted, and an
hour subsequently Corrinne found herself com-
fortably domiciliated at the dwelling of one Se-
nora Maidennez — described by Bernard as a
relative of his, to whose favor, for the time being,
he commended Senora Corrinne Almanza, while
he returned, as he said, once more to the scene
of his last night's adventures.
At nightfall Bernard returned to Corrinne with
the information that she feared to hear. Ac-
cording to the last accounts he could obtain of
the melancholy facts, the mansion had been to-
tally destroyed, no vestige of anything of value
could be found, and it was believed that the un-
fortunate remains of Don Miguel were buried in
the ruins — no trace of him having been seen or
heard of after he fell in the hall of his house.
The wound of de Norde did not prove so serious
as was at first feared it might be ; and when he
had given Corrinne all the information he had
gathered, he appealed to her to know what course
she would pursue under the painful circumstan-
ces in which she had become so suddenly and
unexpectedly involved.
Poor Con-innc ! She had no choice— she knew
not whither to turn her steps ! Her friend and
protector, Don Miguel Rubcrto, had been snatch-
ed away from her without a moment's warning;
ids property had licen stolen or destroyed, and
her relations were either dead, or were now be-
come comi)arative strangers to her, and at best
wore in u far distant land ! She had no words
to answer tlic query of her lover — whither she
would go ! With ready tact Bernard observed
hei' embarrassment, and availed himself at once
of the circumstance.
With all the eloquence and earnestness of the
fervent lover, he pleaded his own cause before
the idol of his heart, and he besought Corrinne
to rely upon hhn in her frightful dilemma. He
did not fail to picture to her the perils she must
now necessarily be surrounded with, and at tlie
same time he offered to become her friend, her
guardian, her protector, constantly — from that
hour. He told her of his burning love for her,
he swore eternal devotion to her, and solemnly
otT'ered his hand with the heart that adored her.
The fair young being at whose feet he knelt
had no disposition to argue the point with de
Norde ; but she felt that they were still strangers.
Tiieir acquaintance was, in fact, but very recent,
and she could not bring herself to accede to his
wishes, on the instant. Nevertheless, she re-
sponded kindly and gratefully to his friendly
words, and assured him that be at least deserved
cJI he pleaded for. At least, she would confide
in him, for the time being.
Bernard was content with this concession ;
and he set himself to work, forthwith, to com-
plete his present scheme, and consummate his
final aim — to wit, his early union in marriage
with the fair creature whose charms had so en-
tranced and bewildered him, from the first mo-
ment he met her.
At the expiration of three days, thereafter,
Corrinne consented to quit Spain in company
with de Norde, who had constantly been in at-
tendance upon her, and who had been continu-
ously urgent in his importunities that she should
leave the scene of her present troubles, if only
for a season, and visit Italy with him, which he
claimed as his birth-place and his home. The
novelty of the proposed tour so pleased her, that
at length she consented to join him ; and Ber-
nard absented himself for four-and-twenty hours
to complete the arrangements necessary for their
journey.
At the mouth of the river Guadiana, there lay
a small brigantine, at this time — a pretty and
well appointed craft, evidently in readiness to
put to sea at a very brief notice. The wind was
blowing fresh from the northward, and towards
evening a stranger in the garb of an ordinary
peasant, emerged from the forest at some dis-
tance above the spot where the vessel lay quietly
at anchor. He was plainly in search of the brig-
antine ; and approaching the spot where she lay,
he drew from his breast a small blue flag, or strip
of bunting, which he waved over his head once
or twice without speaking. A signal whicli he
seemed to understand was made on board the
vessel, at once, and soon aftcrwai'ds a boat
reached the shore. From the stern-sheets a stout
young man sprang upon a little knoll near by,
and in a hasty manner the stranger communica-
ted to the sailor his plans.
" I comprehend," said the former.
" Be ready, then," said the stranger, " we shall
be here at evening, to-morrow."
They separated — the boat returned to the brig,
and Bernard de Norde, for he it was, retired to
the forest once more, mounted his horse, and
rode back at full speed to the temporary Iialiing-
placc where he had left Corrinne awaiting him.
In a little time, the requisite arrangements for
the journey were completed, and on the follow-
ing night dc Norde handed the beautiful Cor-
rinne up the gangway of the "Falcon."
CHAPTER X.
TIIR VOVAGK ANr> THE WItlCCIC.
TiiK little brig had been at sea two diiys, and
thus far had made good headway towards lier
destination, with a fresh wind from the north-
ward and westward. But on tlic morning of the
t'lird day, the sun rose in a hazy atmosphere,
and very soon afterwards the scudding clouds
foretohi that heavy weather was at hand.
The Falcon had run down to the southwest-
ward, and was upon her course to round the
headland of Point del Picucho — it being the aim
of the commander of the vessel to clear that dan-
gerous vicinity, if possible, before night, as he
well knew the pci-ils of the waters near the isl-
and reefs which show themselves, in a clear day,
in that locality.
As the day waned, however, and evening set
in at last, the heavens were darkened by thick
black clouds, and the whistling of the rushing
wind among the rigging and against the light
sails they showed on board the Falcon, was evi-
dence sufficient to the sailors that they would
have a sharp time in getting round the headland
at best. But, as the storm increased, due cau-
tion was exercised ; and at the same time, the
wreckers on the shore beyond were more and
more delighted — for they believed that such a
gale must bring its booty landward !
The night proved one of those wretchedly
gloomy ones, when not a star could be seen, and
as it lengthened, that darkness deepened. The
surge dashed high over the rocks in every direc-
tion, and the look-out on board the Falcon had
been cautioned to be especially wary. On a
sudden, a liglit was discovered, and the cry of
"land ho! A light!" was quickly reported by
the watch.
"Where away?" asked a bold voice, on the
instant.
" To the north-east — over the lee bow."
It was Bernard de Norde who made the query,
for he had been upon the deck for the twelve
hours preceding, and this announcement caused
him anxiety.
The light was now clearly seen by all hands,
and the question arose " what is it V But there
were none who could answer it. It had been
impossible during the day to take the customary
observation at noon, in consequence of the thick
weather, and both skipper and crew were entirely
at a loss to determine where they were. Bernard,
however, entertained his own suspicions, secretly,
but he did not utter them.
An attempt was made, forthwith, to wear ship,
and claw off from the coast; but this was found
to be utterly impracticable, from the violence of
the gale, which was now rapidly increasing, so
that sail could not be carried. And besides this,
the Falcon was a heavy sailer, and could not be
readily managed. The effort to lay to was
quite as futile, and it was clear that she must
make a harbor, or go ashore. In this dilemma
dc Norde called the master aside, and in a low
tone asked him if he could divine, or imagine,
where they were, and what light it was they saw
so distinctly ?
" I know," said the skipper, with some feel-
ing, " I know that we are to the nor'ard of the
point, and that the light we see, yonder, isn't
what I'd like to sec."
" Then you suspect — "
" I don't suspicionize nothin'," continued the
old sailor, bluntly.
" Well — it is a false hght, then !"
" It must be !"
" And we must go ashore, too 1"
" I can see no other hope for us."
" Captain we have too precious a burthen on
board your craft, to sacrifice it thus, without a
struggle," continued de Norde, with emphasis.
" What do you propose, then ?"
" I will give yoxi an hundred doubloons in ad-
dition to your price for conveying us to our des-
tination, if you weather this gale in safety."
"And you think that the lives of myself and
my crew are to be put into a money scale, do
you?"
" No, no, captain — "
" You so propose ; for, do yon think I wont
do all that a man can do, under such circum-
stances as these V
" It is well."
" Breakers !" shouted the look-out.
"Breakers ah^ad !" continued two or three
voices at the same time, for the crew had now
become thoroughly ahutned, and as Ihoroughly
watchful.
" What's to be done, now, must be done quick-
ly," added the captain, turning to dc Norde.
" We're within half a mile of that infernal reef,
and f/ify are vmitimj/or us!"
"1 see it all," snid de Norde. " You have
fire-arms on board, have you not?"
" Yes."
"Place them in the hands of every man on
board, then; and if we must fight, we will not
betaken at any disadvantage that it is in onr
power to control. What's tliat?"
The vessel had struck I But she passed over
the hidden boulder, and the captain sjirang ut
once to the holm,
" Lively, men !" he cried, "for your lives!
Clear the stern anchor ! Let go!" and in less
time, apparently, than we have occujiied in re-
lating the fact, tlic anchor went down, and the
brigantine swung round to the wind.
This was but momentary, however, for the
hurricane was dreadful, and the poor crew found
it exceedingly diflicult to stand upon deck at all.
The heavy, roaring waves dashed high over the
little vessel, and her bulwai-ks were quickly stove,
as one of the boats went by the board.
The captain of the Falcon was a brave sailor,
however, and he had faced many a gale as stiff
as this, in his time, undaunted, where he had
before had plenty of sea-room. But the anchor
dragged, and the best bower was at last resorted
to, as a final hope ! The brig had sjirung aleak ;
but, for a few moments she lay firm to her an-
chorage, and it was believed that she yet might
weather it.
There were anxious hearts on board that little
craft, and a prayer went up from the lips of
beauty, to Him who rules the storm, that they
might escape the terrors of that dark and awful
night !
" She'll soon be here," remarked Boseat to his
companions, as they skulked about in the rock-
clefts. " She'll soon be here — but, somehow or
other, she's been pretty well managed, that's cer-
tain. I shouldn't be surprised, Pedro, if there's
some one on board that craft that has been caught
in this latitude afore! An' I reckon he doesn't
like the company he thiuks he'll have to meet
here."
" Very like, very like," was the response.
" Hows'ever, they must come to it — whew ! how
she blows, to be sure !"
"That's it — that's it!" said Boseat, again.
" That flaw parted her cable. The fore-chain is
light — now she swings to it, again — heigh ! But
there's a comber for you ! Now she comes — now
she comes I Stand ready, boys !"
As Boseat spoke, an enormous wave rolled
down before the wind, and striking the brig fairly,
her cable broke, four or five men were washed
overboard, and the deck was swept clear of every-
thing movable.
An indistinct order was given in relation to
lowering away the boats ; but in the midst of the
howling storm and the roar of the surge which
dashed upon the sturdy rocks, this order was
useless — for none could hear it. And, moreover,
since their fate seemed to be inevitable, a sullen
stupor and reckless resignation seemed to have
seized upon both ofSeers and crew. The Falcon
drifted rapidly shoreward, and a few minutes
afterward she reached the ledge, from which she
never again departed !
When the brig struck again, the violence of
the shock seemed, for the moment, to awaken
the wretched crew anew to the peril of their situ-
ation. Death stared them palpably in the face,
and it was worth one more effoi't to save tlioir
own lives.
" To the boats !" shouted de Norde; but there
was but one boat left them. Still he shouted " to
the boat, men ! A hundred doubloons, each, to
those who reach the shore. Get out the boat !"
A li'T-ht form, and a ciieck pale and cold with
fear and watching, now presented itself at the
companion-way, supported by the strong arm of
Bernard himself, and by clinging, as she ascend-
ed, to the sides of the pi^ssage.
" Cheer thee — cheer heart, dear Corrinne !"
said Bernard, affectionately.
" Is not this peril awful ?" she asked.
" It is indeed, Corrinne. But do not despair.
Come ! Cling to me ; and if we must meet
death in this way, you shall die in the embrace
of him who will cheerfully risk his life to aid and
save you. Cheer up, loved one !"
Thump — thump — thump ! The death-knell of
the Falcon had pealed ! She was dashed into
splinters upon that reef within the next half
hour ! The boat had been got over the side, and
into it some six or seven human beings sprang,
seemingly all at the same instant; for in the next
it was far away from the sinking vessel, on ll o
top of a huge wave, with but a single oar lo
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DHAWIXG ROOM COMPANIOTs\
195
guide or control it, and swiftly blowing shore-
ward, amid the whitened and foaming surge.
In tlie stern of tlie tioat sat Bernard de Norde,
clasping in lus arras the alraost lifeless form of
his svvtieE Corrinue; who, all unused to such
rough usage, and such friglitful scenes, had
fainted in her lover's arms from fright and ex-
haustion.
" Steady, boys !" said de Norde, encouraging-
ly. " Keep her head up — now she rides ! Steady
— so ! Five hundred ducats for you — you witli
the oar — if we reach the shore in safe — "
Crash ! crasli — crash ! The deed was done !
The storm had triumphed. The boat was stove,
and her bow dashed far away in the whirling
current, while the stern was rolled in splinters to
the shore ! The remainder of the crew, de Norde,
Corrinne, all were now struggling for life, with-
out a shade of further hope, amid the merciless,
raging waters !
" The jig is up, boys," said Boseat, gruffly.
" She's gone to pieces. So far as the craft is
concerned, we shan't make much out of her. By
Jove ! but ien't this a whistler of a breeze V lie
added, as he placed his rough hand to his head
to keep his sou-wester in its place. " Howsoever,
we shall have a shy at the cargo, if she had any.
Hallo! what's yonder ?"
There was an object of interest in sight — the
form of a man, struggling with the waves, but a
short distance from the shore. He was plainly
much exhausted. There were two persons there
— three ! The light had gone down considerably,
but still its glimmer could be distinguished on
the rock.
And still the sufferers struggled on, amid those
heaving, angry waves, surrounded by darkness,
peril, despair !
chaptf:^ XL
NAPLES — A TKIO OJF NEW FACES.
SoJiE six weeks subsequently to the events
narrated in our last chapters, there came to Na-
ples, in the vetturino from Vecchia, a little party
of nobility, comprising three persons of apparent
rank, to wit, a lady and two gentlemen, and their
retinue of some seven or eight attendants. They
halted at the most fashionable hot^l, temporarily,
and submitted to the highest charges for their
accommodations without a query.
Tlie foremost of this trio was a splendid ap-
pearing, but rather a youngish man, known by
the title of Count Antienne. His male compan-
! ion was one Don Felix Bavbicrre, from Madrid.
! The lady was thought to be the most graceful
and lovely of all the female strangei-s that had
1 been seen in Naples for many seasons. The
I party travelled incof/, and as this was a very com-
mon occurrence, none seemed to know or care
I wlio the new comers were. They lived in the
best style, paid their bills promptly, through
their secretary and steward, and everybody seem-
ed to be content with them, without asking trou-
\ blesome questions.
It appeared, at the end of a week, that the
\ Count Antienne was the happy husband of the
I beautiful senora, and that the little party were
I from Spain, on a visit to Italy, to pass their
I honeymoon. Tlicy had been wedded but a few
I days. The Don Barbierre was rather a conji-
tdante, than otherwise — the constant companion
F of the count, in his rambles, and, seemingly, a
[ friend whom both the count and his lovely wife
valued higlily. He had served the noble count
( right valiantly in several emergencies, prior to
[ this time, and he was deserving of their united
I friendship and favor.
As we have already stated, there were in at-
[ tendance upon this party some half a score of
servants and a/i/jc/ics, and a highly respectable
establishment was maintained by the count, at
I his hotel. But few acquaintances were made,
I however, by the strangers, as the newly-wedded
[ couple appeared to be quite as well pleased in
i the society of each other as in any way, and af-
t faii'i passed along as joyfully and as smoothly
I as heart could possibly desire, for five or six
I weeks after their arrival at Naples.
About this time, there arrived an invalid, with
' a single servant, who halted at the same hotel
I" where the count and his party were domiciled.
i He was a tall, gaunt looking man — wan and
. pale from disease, and crippled by gout, appar-
ently, or some rheumatic affection. He moved
about but little, and leaned upon his attendant
always when he went abroad. He visited Italy
lo recruit liis broken health, and had but just re-
cently got up from a bed of fearful illness.
The features of this man were forbidding, and
his deportment, generally, was not by any means
agreeable. However, it was the season for tiie
annual visits of the floating foreign population
which crowd;> the Italian cities every year, and
no one cared for the old man's gout or his scowls ;
since each one had his own pleasures and pas-
times to attend to, with all the leisure they could
command.
" Sancho !" said the old man, gruffly, very
soon after reaching the hotel — " Sancho !"
"I am here, senor," was the reply.
" Sancho — I know thee for a cunning knave ;
and I liave had cause to think thee devoted to
ray interests, in times gone by."
'■ Good senor, I would always be thy slave."
" Hast thou seen aught here since our coming
that thou hast seen hcfore ?"
" Good m;ister, if I rightly jadge of the query
propounded, I would say ay; but I may not
comprehend it."
" Look again, then, and report to me, anon."
The attendant retired, and a sort of fiendish
smile trembled, one moment, upon the wan
countenance of the invalid stranger.
In the course of another hour the servant re-
turned, and quickly communicated with the old
man. What he said could be a matter of con-
jecture, only, for he whispered the information
he had gathered in the old fellow's ear, who
seemed vastly delighted with the discoveries
Sancho thought he had made !
" You did not expose yourself, Sancho V
"No, senor, no. But they would not remem — "
" Keep within doors, Sanclio, and leave the
rest to me."
It was late in the evening of the following day.
The night wasunusnally fine, even for that lovely
climate ; and the Count Antienne, as was his
evening habit, had wandered away into the great
gardens of the hotel, accompanied by his beauti-
ful young wife, to enjoy the soft air and healthful
influences of tlic open atmosphere.
The wind was gentle as the breathings of an
infant; the odors from the groves were inviting
and grateful to the senses ; the myriad stars that
dotted the firmament twinkled joyfully above the
lovers, and nature seemed to be at rest, as the
soft zephyrs breathed gently among the vine-
covered arbors.
" Life of my life !" said the handsome count,
in a gentle tone, to his loved wife, " are we not
now supremely happy '? Within the enchanting
shadow of this gorgeous grove, beneath such a
sky as this, surrounded by all that heart can
wish, in a temporal view — why should we not
be happy in each other's love 1"
" We should, indeed, be very happy," re-
sponded tlie fair creature, who sat beside him.
"And yet you sigh for home."
"Ah, count, how many perils have I passed
thjfough, within a little time, and how singularly
distressing was my departure from that home !"
" But you do not relent, surely ?"
" No, no — not that, not that, my ever best of
friends. Yet you will return, anon, will you
not?"
" Whenever it may please my love to choose
it."
" My poor guardian !" sighed the lady, in
reply.
" You never knew him, love, else you would
not sigh for hira, I warrant me."
" Knew him ? How ! Surely he was the
kindest of friends to his poor orphan ward."
" Still, I repeat it, you never knew him."
At this moment the count sprang quickly to
his feet, and seized the handle of his rapier.
" Did 3'ou hear nothing ?" he asked, turning
to his wife.
" Nothing, save the wind among the shrubbery.
Did you 7"
" I think we Iiave had a listener here. Let us
return." And with this suggestion, the count
placed his wife's arm within bis own, and emerg-
ing into tlie main avenue, they bent their steps
towards the hotel once more.
They were now at a long distance from the
piazza of the house, for the garden was a spacious
one, into which the guests of the hotel frequently
wandered after nightfall. They proceeded on,
however, unmolested ; and the count began to
believe that his usually acute hearing had this '
time deceived him — when the tall, gaunt figure
of a man suddenly stepped out from beneath a
clamp of trees, and confronted them. It was
the crippled stranger who had recently arrived
at the hotel, accompanied by a single servant.
" Signor !" he said, " I greet you."
" Signor," replied the count, quickly, but not
a little embarrassed at this unanticipated meet-
ing. " I give yon goodnight.' The count would
have passed on, after tliis rather formal response,
but tlie stranger said ;
" May I have a word witli you, signor V
"Mc'f Surely — yes; that is — come to my
quarters, within the hotel, and you may have an
hundred words, or sentences, an' you like, so
that they be civil."
" I would speak with you here, an' it please
you."
" No ! Do you not observe I have a lady with
me?"
" The lady may retire."
" No, I repeat," continued the count, annoyed.
" If you have business with me, come to my ho-
tel. I have no leisure or inclination, i' faith, to
talk here; and so, again, I give you good night,
signor."
But the intruder stood in the path ; and the
lady had become thoroughly alarmed at his im-
portunity. He approached the count, more
nearly, and gazing in his face, he said :
"Your countship does not seem to recognize
me, I observe."
" This is not the place to recognize — "
"It is well, then. At what hour may I meet
you at your lodgings ?"
" Whenever it best suits your leisui'c."
"At eleven, then, to-night."
" At eleven, be it. I will expect you."
" You may do so, count. Adios," continued
the traveller, retiring ; and the nobleman has-
tened forward with his young wife to the hotel.
" Who can it be ?" she asked, as soon as tliey
were fairly ridded of the intruder.
" I have no idea," said the count, " nor have
I care about it, either. Be he friend or foe, I
shall now ])reparc myself to receive him."
" Did you not suspect him ?"
" No — he was undoubtedly masked ; and,
moreover, the darkness was such that T could
scarcely swear whether he was black or white."
"And you will meet him ■*"
"Assuredly, will I!"
" He may have evil designs upon you."
"Never fear, love. I think you are over-cau-
tious, but I will venture nothing. It is now near
ten. At eleven o'clock he will unquestionably be
here. You may retire — and trust me, I will risk
nothing."
The count escorted his lady to her chamber,
and then he sat down to reflect upon what he
should do, under the circumstances.
After a few moments of thought, he rang for
his friend, Don Felix, who attended upon him
directly, and to wliom he at once entrusted the
details of his adventure and his appointment.
"And have you no idea who he is ?" asked
his companion, after listening to the story.
" Not the slightest. He is unlike, in form and
features, so far as I could judge, any one I re-
member ever to have met."
" Do you think lie really knows you ? Or
may he not have mistaken you for some other
person ?"
" It may be thus, but he was exceedingly im-
portunate and peremptory in liis manner."
" Tliat may be a part of liis plan to bring
about some particular object."
" Well, time flies. He will be here, anon.
Within the recess, yonder, ensconce yourself,
good Barbierre; I have no fears in this matter;
but I prefer that yon, my friend and coiifidantc,
should know the nature of this man's business."
" Well-timed caution, good count. I will re-
tire here. Ai'C you armed ?"
" Thoroughly."
" Good night, then," said Don Felix, as he
concealed himself from view. And in a few
mumtes the servant announced a stranger in
waiting to see the count.
" Show him in," said that gentleman to the
attendant. And immediately the old man hob-
bled into the room.
CHAPTER XIL
TWO SIDES OF AN IMI'ORTANT QUESTION.
Wbex the decrepit intruder crossed the thres-
hold of the apartment, the Count Antienne was
discovered sitting very leisurely at a large cir-
cular table, enjoying his cigaretto, and seemingly
content with himself and every one else in the
world.
" I have the honor of meeting with the Count
Antienne," he said, drawing up a chair, and
sitting down so as to confront the former.
" Such is my address here," replied the count.
"You appear at ease, good count, and you
sleep well o' nights, I dare say,"
" What may be your business with mc, sig-
nor?" asked the count, immediately, and in a
rather tart tone. "If you have aught to com-
municate worth the hearing, I am here to listen
to you. If not, leave mc to my leisure, for the
hour is late."
"What I have to say, count, may or may not
be worth the hearing ; of that you shall be the
judge."
" Will you proceed?"
" I will, good count. And first I will say that
you are lately an-ived in Naples."
" Well, and what of that ?"
"Nothing, count. You came hither direct
from Spain."
'• Did I ?"
"I say you came hither directly from Spain."
"Perhaps not."
"Well, I so understand the fact; and I am
curious to obtain some iuformation from you, if
you will liumor me."
" Go on, then," replied the count, with pati'on-
izing air. ''If I can serve you, letmeknow it."
" I am an old man, as you see, count, and you
will pardon me. But a strange story h:.is just
reached me, toueliing the fiite of an old and val-
ued friend of mine, who dwelt near Seville ; and
you may have heard the details of the accident,
which I will relate to you as it comes to me.
" He had resided in the vicinity of Seville
some five or six years, and was beloved by all
who made his acquaintance. None knew whence
he came, wiicn he first arrived there ; but he had
made a handsome fortune abroad, previously,
and after a long life of toil and perils, he retired
to enjoy his means. He was liberal, and proved
a good neighbor ; and time passed happily in his
quiet household.
'• I grieve to learn that a terrible mishap has
lately befallen him ; and, as you come recently
from that quarter, as I hear, you may have
learned particulars in regard to his fate. His
name was Don Miguel Ruberto. You may have
heard this name, signor?"
" Yes, I have heard that name; go on."
" As I was saying, then, in the midst of his
enjoyment of what he had toiled for, a murderous
band of mountain robbers attacked his dwelling,
but a few months since, and having robbed his
house of everything it contained of value, they
fired the buildings at midnight, and escaped
with their booty ! Don Miguel defended his
property, of course, to the best of his ability, but
he was overpowered with numbers, and he fell,
at last, covered with wounds. He was left in the
midst of falling ruins senseless, with no power
of escaping so dreadful a death— for his attend-
ants had been vanquished and driven from the
premises.
" This gang of desperadoes, so the tale is told,
was led on in this murderous expedition by one
Bernard de Norde, a villain and an ingrate, who
thrust himself beneath the roof of Don Miguel,
and was his guest on the night of this very oc-
currence. You may have heard of this de Norde ?"
asked the old man, quickly.
'■Yes — go on," replied the count.
The speaker had become deeply excited by
this time; but he kept his sitting, and continued:
" This desperate de Norde had contrived to
cheat the Don Miguel Ruberto out of a large
sum of gold, but a short time previously, but he
was not content with this. He was not satisfied
with burning his mansion to the ground — it was
not enough that he robbed his house of every
ducat there — it was insufl[icient that his minions
should murder Ruberto, and leave his lifeless
body to be consumed amid the ruins he had
caused — but, beneath those walls, contented,
happy, hopeful in Ruberto 's protection and love,
there dwelt an humble but beautiful flower, just
budding into fair womanhood — a graceful, joy-
ous, virtuous maiden — upon whom this despera-
do set a mark ! In the midst of the dire ruin
and confusion of that dreadful night, the villain
stole that maiden— and escaped! So runs the
tale. Tell me, good count, have you not heard
of this ?"
*' Yes," responded the count, " I have heard
of this ; but do you know no further details ?"
"No, no. I hear that you are now from
Spain, and recently ; and I felt certain you could
tell me if this sad account were true."
" And you are now inclined to know the rest ?"
"Yes, yes, good count] I prayyou, if you can
add to this, let me know all the details."
[to be continued.]
Life b.atb a? many farewells
As it hritli sunny hours,
And over some are scattered thoma.
And over others, fiowers.
Mrs. L. P. StJillh.
196
GLEASON'S PICnORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
AUDUJtON, THE NATURALIST.
John Jumcs AmUibon was liorn of
FreiR-h i)iire?its, at New Orleiins, May 4,
1780, iind iTceiveil a part of his ciiiR'U-
tion in Paris, where he reckoned the eel-
chrated artist David aniont; his instrue-
tors. On liis return to the United States,
ho married, and his father estaldished
liim in life hy pivin^j; liim a tine farm on
tlic banks of the Seluiylkill. All the at-
tractions of an easy and tranquil existence
united to woo him to luxurious ease, Imt
an irresi3iil>le vocation attracted him to
the splendors of nature. In 1810,heeni-
Imrkcd in a skiit'with his wife and youn^
child for his only companions, and his
gnu and pencil for baggage, and com-
menced an adventurous and wandering
life — the life ofa hunter and naturalist,
which he did not abandon till 18;J4. An
excellent shot, a painter of superior tal-
ents, a passionate observer of nature, ho
united the rare gifts requisite for the ar-
duous mission lie had undertaken. His
studies, pursued not in tlie midst of the
stuffed specimens of a cabinet of natural
history, but in the forests and savannahs,
under the tunning sun of the torrid zone,
and in the midst of northern icebergs,
had sometliing energetic, actual and vital,
so to speak, which gave them in advance
a superiority over the feeble labors of
compilers of natural history. TIius, when
at the end of an uninterrupted pilgrimage
of twenty-five years, he landed on tlie
shores of England with his travelling
portfolio, when, surrounded hy the best
writers and the best artists of Great Brit-
ain, he began the publication of his work
on the birds of North America, his re-
nown rang from one end of the scientific
world to the other. Humboldt and Cu-
vier recognized him from the outset as
their equal, and the latter did not fear to
declare before the Academy of Sciences,
that " Audulion's work was the most
magnificent monument that art had ever
erected lo nature." In fact, this work is
something more than a simple treatise — a
frigid nomenclature ; and while relating
his daily observations, the author relates
also his own life, that is to say, twenty-
five year^ of constant emotion, of suffer-
ings endured with the admirable con-
stancy that love of science alone imparts,
of joys known only to the enthusiastic
naturalist. Audubon carries his reader
along with him to all latitudes, he makes
him witness the scenes he relates ; in a
word, he makes him a sharer in his studies.
This bird you see before you has been pursued
by the indefatigable student for ten years, and
found three thousand miles from the place where
it was observed for the first time. Another was
taken after three days of fatigue and privations
beneath a burning sky ; and a third he succeeded
in bringing down only after swimming a half-
frozen river, with his gun fastened to his head.
Seventy-five subscriptions, at a thousand dollars
each, defrayed the expenses of the jiublication of
this vast work, one of the most complete and ac-
curate ever published. After having completed
it, Audutjon returned to the United States about
1839, when he published a new edition. Soon
PORTRAIT OF AUDUBON, THE NATURALIST.
aftenvards, he
Buchanan, the
began, in connection with Dr.
Quadrupeds of North America,
completed not long before his death, which took
place January 27, 1851. Audubon left two sons,
his pupils from infancy, and his assistants during
many years. May they honorably sustain the
glorious name he has bequeathed them. We
can well conceive of the deep interest that any
one would realize who was devoted to the study
that the subject of our sketch made his being,
end and aim. It must be a most absorbing j^as-
sion, that which engages the student of nature.
Audubon evinced the truth of this, by his never-
flagging zeal and constant application to his
beloved study.
EXPLOSION OF THE REINDEER.
Still again are we called upon to record a fear-
ful calamity on the waters of the Hudson. A
graphic view of this mournful event is given be-
low. The steam boiler flue of the Reindeer ex-
ploded on Saturday noon, Sept. 4th, as she was
about leaving the Maiden or Bristol landing, in-
stantly killing several persons, blowing others
overboard, some of whom were drowned, badly
scalding many others, and inflicting slighter in-
juries upon an additional number. As soon as
tlie intelligence of this disaster reached New
York, the trains on the Hudson River Railroad
were thronged by those persons who had friends
on board the Reindeer, and sought the earliest
opportunity to ascertain their fate, by pro-
ceeding to the scene of the distrebsing oc-
currence. The public mind, filled with
tlie yet frenh details of the loss of the
Claij and the Atlantic, was keenly sensi-
tive to everything relating to events of
this character ; and the most intense
interest and anxiety was manifested
throughout the community from the in-
stant that news of this latest dih;aHter was
received. The Reiudeer left New York at
7 o'clock in the morning, under the com-
mand of Capt. C. W. Farnham, for Al-
bany, and made all the usual landings,
except two. It is v.orthy of remark that
pbc had the river to herself, as no opposi-
tion boat was running. She reached the
landing at Bristol, on the west shore of
the Hudson, about thirteen minutes past
1 o'clock. At this time many of the pas-
sengers were seated at the dining-table in
the after cabin. The steward, bar-keeper,
and chief engineer were also at the table.
At the moment the pilot pulled the hell
of the engine room to "go ahead," the
explosion took place. By the force of
the steam, the iion sheathing was ripped
up, and beams and limbers were torn
from their jdaces and driven through the
kitchen into the after cabin, carrying all
before them, instantly scalding and kill-
ing those at the dinner talde. The ex-
ploded boiler is situated about midships
of the vessel, ^^ith the flues and furnaces
pointing to the stem of tlie boat, and
about forty feet from the partition of the
cabin. One of the firemen was wedged
among the mass of ruins, with his body
mangled to such an extent as to render
recognition impossible except by his
clothing. The steam passed through a
pantry into the dining-saloon, where lie
work of destruction is stated to have
been completed — every person there be-
ing either killed or wounded. The steam
also passed up the chimney, eariying
away the smoke-pipe, which fell across
the hurricane deck, breaking it down.
No persons, however, were injured above
the deck, except the engineers and cooks.
There were some three hundred passen-
gers, among wJiom the greatest confusion
prevailed. Many threw themselves into
the river — some of whom were diowned.
It is estimated that about fiftj* persons
were badly scalded, in addition to those
already dead. The report of the explo-
sion was heard for several miles up and
down the river. The steamer was sup-
posed to be on fire after the fearful explosion,
which added to the consternation of the surviving
paseengers. The scenes that followed were
lieart-rending. At this time search was made
for the wounded by their friends and citizens of
tlie village. Tliose of the passengers scalded
were found in the after cabin in great agony,
with the skin dropping from their bodies, and
many of them at llie point of death from inhaling
the steam. Those in this condition died shortly
after. JFatbers, mothers, brothers and sisters
were weeping at their losses, or praying for the
safety of relatives. The ladies of the village
rendered every assistance in their power to alle-
viate their distress.
IJXPLOSION OF THE STEAMER RE.NDEER, ON THE HUDSON RIVEE.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAT\''IXG ROOM COMPA"NIOX.
197
HER MAJESTY S CRUISE. VIEW OF THE ROYAL SQUADRON LEAVING THE ISLE OF WIGHT.
Tire ROYAIi SQUADRON.
Queen Victoria is quite a sensible sort of a
body, and does not care to remain at all times
tied up at home. She's of a roving di-^po-
sition and fond of travelling. The last arrivals
from England represent lier majesty as having
embarked on board the royal steam yacht for a
cruise along shoi-e. The royal suite consisted of
the Marchioness of Ely, the Hon. Caroline Cav-
endish, the Earl of Hardwickc, Lord George
Lennox, Colonel the Hon. C Grey, Colonel tlie
Hon. C. Phipps, Sir James Clark and Mr. Gibhs.
The Victoria and Albert was accompanied by
the following vessels, which constituted the royal
steam squadron for the occasion, viz., the Odin,
Retribution, Samson, Magiciennc and Barra-
cottta war steamers, and the Fairy, Black Eagle
and Vigil. Our picture represents the royal
squadron as it appeared leaving the Isle of
Wight. The following description of the cruise
we copy from our foreign exchanges : — " They
proceeded westward, along the south coast of
England, touching at various points. At Batta-
combe Bay they anchored for two hours, and
then proceeded to Torbay, whore her majesty
and the royal family remained on board the
yacht during the night. The next morning her
majesty and the royal children, attended by the
Marchioness of Ely, the Hon. Miss Cavendish,
and the Earl of Hardwickc, embarked in the
barge and proceeded round the harbor, steered
by Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence. The squadron
tiien got under way, and made for Plymouth,
where it anchored about two o'clock in the after-
noon, and immediately all theuTiilitary and naval
authorities at the port waited upon her majesty
and paid their respects. Prince Albert had,
previous to the arrival of the squadron at Ply-
mouth, gone oft' in the Fairy yacht to Dart-
mouth, where his royal highness landed, and
proceeded in a carriage and four to Dartmoor,
and minutely inspected there the progress of
cultivation on some of the recently formed farms,
and more particularly of the Und recenlly put
under cultivation by the convicts stationed on
the moor, and also to inspect the prison and its
appointments, inmates, etc. His royal highness
subsequently came across the country from
Dartmouth to Plymouth, and rejoined her mai-
esty on board the royal yacht in the course of
the evening. Her majesty had, in the meantime,
embarked in her barge at Plymouth, and accom-
panied by four of the royal children, landed at
Mount Edgecumbe, and was received by the
Countess of Mount Edgecumbe, and, on arriving
at the house, by the noble earl, the state of whose
health unfortunately prevented him from going
to the water side. On landing, her majesty was
heartily cheered by the vast concourse of people
in boats, and on the shore. Her majesty re-
mained on shore until about six o'clock, when
she and the members of the royal family by
whom she was accompanied returned to the Vic-
toria and Albert. At two o'clock she embarked
in the Fairy tender, and proceeded up the Tamar
as far as Cothcll, an old baronial residence, pic-
turesquely located on the banks of the Tamar,
belonging to the Right Honorable the Earl of
Mount Edgecumbe. She was accompanied by
Prince Albert and the royal family. After a
merry time they returned once more to their
homes on terra jii'ma."
CATHEDRAIj of ST, JOHN.
Our Canadian neighbors seem imbued with a
go-a-head Yankee spirit, and are constantly im-
proving and advancing in point of architectural
matters and internal improvement. We present
our readers with an engraving of the new Ca-
thedral of St. John, Newfoundland, now erecting.
The following description of the cathedral has
been published ; — " The style is first-pointed of
the latest phase, in the nave and transepts ; tran-
sitional towards middle-pointed in the choir. To
this style the architect was confined by the rigor-
ous proscription of external shafts and mould-
ings ; the cold and driving mists of the climate
being so severe as to destroy all ornamental or
creviced work exposed to the air. In plan, St.
John's is to consist of a nave with aisles ; tran-
septs with eastern aisles ; and a tower at the in-
tersection. The length of the nave is 106 feet;
of the crossing, 30 ; and of the choir, 60 feet —
the nave consistingof six, the choir of four bays.
The site is a fine one — the ground rising rapidly
northward. The church is in thorough keeping
with the storms and snows of St .John.
I MlllililllilllilillMlllli
VIEW OF THE NEW CATHEDRAL OF ST. JOHN, NEWFOUNDLAND.
108
GLEASON'S nCTOPJAL DTIAWING ROOM CO]\IPANI()N.
[Wrlttou for Oleuson'H Pictorial.]
THE ARTIST-BIMDK
UY MRS. SOl'lIRONIA CimiCIEK.
Jekrt Joneh was not born a painter, nor did
his family ever imagine that ho was. Indeed lie
was only hiut^ched ac by them, wlicn, his churlish
blood boilinf'- at some indifjnity showed him by
his master's son, tho gifted, but proud and over-
bearing ]<jdward Do Lancy, the little, rough,
dirty boy stiook his puny fist and exclaimed,
" Sometime I will be a greater painter tlian he is!"
" Tlie path of \\'caltli is open to yon, my boy,"
his father \\oukl siiy ; "be industrious, be pru-
dent, and kcc]) your eyes open as you go through
the world, and you may, some day, have as
broad lands and as proud halls as tlic De Lancy
will inherit; but to become in any other respect
his equal, Jerry, will be a vain attempt !"
Jerry, sometime, rcraembcred his father's
advice, but it was not until after he had learned
that the chalk and charcoal scratches on the walls
of his kennel did not much resemble his master's
drawings, and that the daubs he made with the
brushes he abstracted from Edward's studio did
not surpass in beauty the elegant paintings of
the young artist; but the time never did come,
until his wish was gratified, that to humble the
pride of the De Lancies, by having produced in
his family a more splendid work of art than they
could boast, was not his higliest ambition. How-
ever, at the age of twenty-five, Jerry Jones — we
beg his pardon, he was Sir Vinton Stanley now,
by the good sense and spirit of Lady Emma,
who preferred the handsome face, fine figure and
good habits of Jones, tliough it was plebeian
blood which circled in his veins, to the noble
name of the dissolute man wdiom her friends
would have persuaded her to marry.
" If mj personal defects and my ten years'
seniority will prevent him from loving me," said
the lady to her advisers, " he will at least be
grateful to me for the position in life I have
given him, while the Marquis of L would be
spending my wealth with wine and cards, and
making a jest of me among his low associates."
Sir Vinton Stanley, at the age of twenty-five,
I was beginning to say, gave up all thoughts of
ever rivalling, in the art of painting, his former
master, who was now enjoying considerable ce-
lebrity. No, the artist who was to immortalize
his family, and astonish the world, was the little
representative of himself, which Lady Stanley
presented to him a year after their marriage.
But George, though he was a bright, active
little fellow, possessing all the good qualities of
both his parents, perhaps improving on the inde-
pendence of character, and the good sense of his
mother, and the natural rectitude of conduct, and
the personal attractions of his father, did not in-
herit from them any qualities of which they
themselves were not possessed. He was no more
born a painter than was Sir Vinton, and more
than that, he was not anxious to become one.
In vain were the first masters employed to teach
him the art which even his father could not fail
to perceive nature had not given him ; in vain
were the finest paintings procured to attract his
attention, and to awaken a spirit of emulation.
"If Imust learn a business, father !" the boy
would say, " let it be that of a boatman, for I
can guide my little skiif over the lalve, now,
much better than John can ; he dares not go
near the rocks, for fear of the eddies, and at the
first breath of wdnd he hurries down the sail;
but I go where I will, with the sails all spread.
Or let me be a game-keeper, father ! Eoger says
I ought to have been one. The pack mind my
call now much better than his; I know every
corner of the park, and I can hit a mark, now,
twice to his once, These pictures are pretty
enough, but I had rather help be a picture, than
make one."
But the father would not be persuaded by llic
child's pleadings, nor could the superior judg-
ment of his wife, who proposed a dilFercnt train-
ing for her son, though in everything else he was
willing to acknowledge it, affect his determina-
tion. George might, and he should become a
distinguished painter. That one idea entirely
engrossed his father's mind; and when his son
had completed his nineteenth year, Sir Vinton,
seeing that time did not increase his interest in
the art he so wished him to cultivate, but rather
made it more distasteful to him, determined to
pursue a course of conduct towards him which
would compel him to interest liimself in jiaintlng.
The Stanley estate wns unentailed, and Lady
Emma, having had perfect confidence in the man
of her choice, and irritated by the opjjosition of
her friends to her marriage, had i)ut all her
wealth, witli the exception of a trifling sum, into
the hands of her husband. Bitterly did she now
repent the act, knowing, as she did, that the
hopes of her husband in relation to ids son never
would be realized ; for when Sir Vinton sent the
youth to the continent, bidding him not return
to liis homo until he could bring with him a
painting which could bear the criticisms of the
first masters of the art, ho threatened him witli
disiniicritancc shoidd he disappoint him in his
cherished expectations.
The first year of his banishment, so George
Stanley considered it, was spent under the care
of a celebrated Italian painter, who was so de-
voted to his profession that he suft'cred himself
and his pupil no relaxation from their studies,
and the result was, the health of the one was
greatly aifected, and the other was brought to
the grave. In consequenccof his statcof health,
George was allowed six months' relaxation from
his pursuits, during which he should travel; but
his father enjoined it on him, wherever he should
go, to seek the acquaintanceship of distinguished
artists, and to visit every gallery of paintings.
While visiting Naples, young Stanley fell in
with an old gentleman, a friend of his mother's
family, himself no painter, hut a lover of the fine
arts, who had well nigh expended a large for-
tune in collecting old paintings, which it was his
delight to have sought after by young artists.
To visit this collection of paintings, George
Stanlc}^ often went, but far less to admire the
fine specimens of art, than the prospects of na-
ture and the view of busy life which the towering
windows of the chateau, overlooking the bay of
Naples, afforded. One fine sunset evening, as
he stood at his favorite point of observation, a
remote part of a gallery, very little frequented
by the artists, as it contained but few paintings,
and they were so old as to be almost obliterated,
his attention was drawn from the gay, active
scene below the window, and the moi'e beautiful,
far distant view on wdiich his eye was at the
moment resting, to a figure but a few yards from
him, standing, apparently unconscious of his
near neighborhood, before one of the most nearly
effaced paintings. The figure was that of a
young peasant girl, so her dress indicated, but
one unused to toil ; for the hue of her cheek was
fair as if the sunlight had never fallen upon it ;
her fingers were long and taper-like, and her
arm and the ankle, which the short dress par-
tially exposed to view, were very delicately
formed. The coarse but tastefully fashioned and
garlanded straw hat was thrown back from her
brow, revealing a classically shaped head, whose
dark, luxuriant tresses fell over her shoulders in
long curls ; the simple white tunic was gathered
about the waist with a tasselled silk cord, show-
ing a beautifully developed form, which an atti-
tude such as an actor might study, made simple
and majestic, modest and proud. The face, young
Stanley could not obtain a view of. Had he
been able to do so, he would not have ventured
the remark which he made to the young rustic
who had found her way into the gallery.
" The paintings here are miserable things," he
said, "but you will find, further down the hall,
very beautiful pictures — flowers and birds, fair
ladies and — "
The young girl turned her head, and George
Stanley found himself suddenly silent. He had
little expected to look on such a countenance as
was presented to his view. The face whose fea-
tures were as beautiful as those of the Madonna,
was almost hueless ; the lips were parted, and in
the fall dark eyes wliich, from the intensity of
their gaze, seemed almost wild, large tears were
slowly gathering. She gazed on him for a mo-
ment, but the current of her thoughts seemed
unbroken, and then she turned again to the paint-
ing. At that instant a beam from the setting
sun streamed into the gallery, through the win-
dow which Stanley had uncui'tained, and the
painting on which the young girl was gazing,
was in too ftiU light. The sudden change in its
appearance disturbed those absorbing emotions,
and when he attempted to shade the picture as it
had before been, by adjusting the curtain, she
turned her now calm, but deeply serious fiice to
his, and gracefully acknowledging his attention,
picked up the little straw hat which had fallen to
the floor, and walked away with a light tread.
The next day, at the same hour, Stanley was
standing again at the window where lie had seen
the young peasant girl, but his eye was far less
interested in the bcautifnl prospect of wliich the
place commanded the view, than it had been be-
fore, and many a furtive glance was turned down
the gallery. She came, at length, Jmt at a later
hour than on the evening previous. The young
man observed that the artists looked on Iier with
a curious eye as she passed them, that none of
the visitors in the place a]ii)eared to recognize
her, and that she moved along quickly, as if
anxious to escape observation. As she drew
neai- the spot where he was standing, the young
man was angry with himself for being there; for
the -jirl paused suddenly as her eye fell on him,
and a look of disappointment passed over her
features. She gazed for a moment on the jaunt-
ing which had so interested her the day previous,
and tiien turned away.
On the following morning Stanley was again
in Costelli's picture-gallery. He conjectured
aright that the young girl, who seemed in a fair
way to fascinate him, would come at another
hour than on the day previous ; but his presence
did not now disturb her, for he had brought his
easel into the hall, and when she made her ap-
pearance, was as much absorbed with his work
as the most devoted artist. Every morning for
a fortnight sat Stanley before his almost perfectly
uncolored canvass, with his bnish in his fingers,
contemplating the face and figure of that young
girl, who, quite unconscious of the interest she
was awakening in the stranger, came as often to
gaze on that old, faded painting. Usually she
seemed not to observe his presence, but some-
times when a faint color was in her pale cheek,
and a smile was on the face oftcnest sad and dis-
pirited, she looked over his shoulder as she
passed him, and made some remark on the pro-
gress of his work.
One morning, when her countenance w^ore a
happier expression than Stanley had ever seen
there before, as she paused to look on his paint-
ing, she asked : " Arc you a lover of art V
The young man tried to throw all the admira-
tion he felt for the beautiful being into his coun-
tenance and voice as he answered : " I am a wor-
shipper of nature."
She did not, or would not, however, under-
stand the idea which he intended to convey, but
said, very quietly and seriously, as she gazed
with those dark, searching eyes in his face :
" Tou are capable of doing something very beau-
tiful, and very useful ; but a painter, you never
will be !"
That was the last morning they met in the
picture gallery, but Stanley, after a few days,
found the young peasant girl at her home.
That home was even more humble than the
young man had expected, but it was the abode
of peace and happiness. The family consisted
but of the charming Rosini, whose countenance
at home never wore that look of deep sadness
and. anxiety Stanley had been most accustomed
to see there, and her aged and paralytic father.
The young girl was a straw-pl alter, and as she
busily plied her fingers, the old man, whose eye-
sight had been spared him when his other bodily
pow^ers failed, read from some interesting and
instructive book, or Rosini sang, in a rich, musi-
cal voice, some sweet, joyous air.
Thus employed, Stanley always found them;
and in their peaceful home, the young man for-
got his painting — he forgot that he was banished
from his father's house — he forgot everything but
Rosini.
The young Italian believed his story of love,
and her fiither, though he would have had the
young man give some more definite account of
himself than he was inclined to, had such great
confidence in the good sense and penetration of
his daughter, that he did not oppose their plans.
" Till now, her every thought and act has been
in reference to my comfort and haiipiuess," said
the old man. "I will not make wretched the
existence which she would have sacrificed for
me!" And the young girl became the wife of
Stanley.
More than a year and a half liad passed since
George Stanley had been sent from his home,
and t!ie six months allowed him for relaxation
from his pursuits had sometime since elapsed ;
but his father could not learn that he had re-
turned to liis employment, or was intending to
do so. Indeed, little could be learned from his
letters in regard to his plans. Lady Stanley,
who liad been almost distracted by the treatment
of her son by his father, fell into a lingering sick-
ness, which she declared nothing would cure but
his return; and Sir Vinton, who began to sus-
pect that he had not acted quite judiciously to-
wards him, determined to visit him at Naples to
ascertain what progress he had made in his pur-
suit; and in case he should find him as averse as
ever to painting, to decide whether it would be
best to aluw him to return home, or compel him
to remain still longer abroad.
George had been apprised of his fiiilicr's in-
tended visit; and the evening before liis arrival,
the young man made Rosini — who had been but
for two weeks a bride — ac(juaintcd Aviih the cir-
cumstances of himself and his family.
"Ah, now, do not make excuses, nor look »o
like a criminal !" said the fair bride. " Yon have
withheld something from me; but wc are quits.
I have yet to make you acquainted with a secret
which biis occufiied my thoughts, my every
thought, for a long time; a longer time than I
have known you !"
" Jiosini ';"
" Yes !" and she laughed joyously ; but chang-
ing her merry mood at his serious looks, she
added : " To-morrow, you shall know all,
George, and you shall love me none the less
when my secret is revealed ; for — for — " and a
new thought flashed through her mind, "0,
George, to-morrow your father shall be as proud
of you as he had hoped to be. Wc will go to-
morrow to the picture gallery of the Count Cos-
telli ; everybody will be there, and your father, of
course, will go to see the count's new painting,
and — and — but I will not tcU you now ; I must
see the good Costelli to-night."
Everybody did go next day to the chateau of
the count; not only all the lovers of art in Na-
ples, and all the strangers visiting there, but
many distinguished amateurs from other cities,
who came at the express invitation of Costelli,
Sir Vinton Stanley was among the strangers,
and by chance Lord Edward de Lancy stood be-
side him as he was regarding the painting.
"What is your lordship's opinion of if?"
asked Sir Vinton.
"I have never seen its superior!" exclaimed
De Lancy, in a tone of undisguised admiration.
" Say, rather, that you have never seen its
equal!" said a distinguished artist; and the opin-
ion of the two painters was the opinion of the
company.
As one after another of those who had spent
years in studying the works of the old masters,
gave their judgment of the painting, pointing
out its beauties, but finding in it no defects, Ro-
sini hung, almost fainting, on the ai-m of her
husband ; and when the name of the artist was
demanded of Costelli in such a manner that he
could no longer withhold it, her countenance be-
came so ashy pale, that the young man, though
he heard the words uttered by the count, was so
much alarmed at her appearance that he could
not contradict his words.
'• The painter is before you," said Costelli ;
" the hand which produced this wonderful work
belongs to the young Englishman, George Stan-
ley!"
Rosini recovered her composure by a violent
effort. " He has spoken truly," she whispered
to her husband, ''do not contradict his words,
for the picture is my own ! I painted it to buy
my father bread; see, it has purchased for you
your father's love and respect \"
Sir Vinton had seen his son, and bursting
through the crowd, which, following the example
of de Lancy, were offering him their congratula-
tions, he caught him in his arms, bestowing on,
him epithets which, fortunately for him, were
not heard in the tumult of voices. George tried
to explain, but the old Costelli whispered to him :
" Be silent, young man ! You owe it to yoixr
sweet wife, if not to yourself, to keep your father
in his present good humor towards you!" and
then the count introduced to Sir Vinton liis
son's -wife — his own god-daughter — the child of
his old friend, the artist Berendo.
The gentleman was sui-prised, but at that mo-
ment he could not suppose it possible that
George would be guilty of any wrong or im-
proper act ; and he impressed a kiss on the brov/
of the young lady, exclaiming: "A blessing on
your sweet face ! You shall be most welcome to
my home ; and Lady Emma will be proud of iicr
daughter."
And so Lady Emma was ; for she understood,
what even Sir Vinton in time conjectured —
though he kept that conjecture to himself — how
it happened that the hand of her son produced
that splendid painting.
George Stanley has never since his marriogo
put brush to canvass ; his father often expresses
a hope that he never will, for he may not equal
his former production. But there is a little
Vinton growing up in the family who, his grand-
father and his mother believe, and with pretty
good reason, was born a painter.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWIXG R00:M COMPANION.
199
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THK LOKELY HEAKT.
BY PaiLA EARLE.
"Why Is it that I am lonely,
Why so sad docs life appear,
When this world is full of music,
Every weary heart to cheer ?
M'hen earth 's filled with joy and gladness,
Why is it I bow in sadness ?
Joys departed,
Weary hearted,
Sing I now my mournful lay ;
While a phiiutive voice soft whispers,
All we love must pass away.
Wliy is it that no kiudrcd spirit
Can be found to meet my own ?
Why is it that such fearful loEgiugs
Linger in^iy heart alone ?
Why is it in spirit union,
None meets mine in sweet comjiiunion.
E'er to whisper.
Dearest sister.
Why in sadness do you bend?
Why is it that giief and sorrow,
With my heart-dreams e'er must blend?
Joyous, happy, gladsome spirits
Ne'er could miogle with mine own ;
They could ne'er within my boso:n
Wake one sweet responsive tone ;
Earth, with all it* joy and dreaming.
Bathed in light with beauty beaming,
Sweets and flowers,
Golden hours.
Cannot make me glad again ;
Shadows ever sadly whisper,
Without love to live is vain.
4 ^m^ fc
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
Ko. HI.
THE ROYAL FAMILY OF TUEKEY.
BY DE. JEROME T. C. SSHTH,
iDTHOE OF A "PILGEIMAGE TO EGVPT."
Sultan, pronounced Soolian, is the ordinary
title of the reigning sovereign ; but in state pa-
pers lie is called Padtsha, or the Father of all
Ivingly Rulers ; Irnaum id Maslemiiin, Pontilf of
Mussulmcn; Akin PenaJi, Refuge of the World ;
Zil-uUak, Shadow of God, and Hunkalr, The
Slayer of Men.
Mahommed II., father of the present Sultan,
was a man of extraordinary energy, and truly
imperial in his bearing. His face was exceed-
ingly expressive, and his powers of mind were
far in advance of the nation over which he ruled.
He guarded with vigilance his own prerogatives,
and to secure his throne against the contingency
of an attack from the Janizaries, butchered them
by wholesale. In ridding the empire of an un-
governable, ferocious body of soldiers, who had
discovered that they could make or unmake
Sultans at their pleasure, he laid the foundation
of personal security for the sovereign, which
none of his predecessors had enjoyed, although
armed with the power of life and death.
Mahommed was either a slack worshipper at
the shrine of Mahommed, of whom he was a lin-
eal descendant, or one of the vices, regarded in
Turkey as confined to Christian sects, got an
ascendancy, whivh he bad not the moral courage
to withstand — that was intemperance. It is a
matter of history that he actually died a victim to
habitual intemperance — the last moments of life
being a deatli stmggle with dclu'ium tremens.
His successor, the present Sultan, Abdul Me-
gid, was taken from the harem as soon as Ma-
hommed breathed bis last, placed on horseback,
had the great sword of state buckled on, and
rode through the narrow streets of Constantino-
ple for the multitude to sec, while tlie roar of
artillery announced the commencement of a new
reiga. When this event took place, the youth-
ful Sultan was but seventeen years of age.
What could he have known of goveniment, or
of the dispositions or tendencies of the empire 1
The procession led off towards the old seraglio
— that mysteriously arranged cluster of palaces,
in wliicli the orgies and murders througli a long
line of half savage despots bavis been conducted
in a way which no tongue has dared to reveal.
Still lying on the death divan, the body of Ma-
hommed had not been dressed in a shroud, be-
fore Megid arrived in one of the state apart-
ment^, where were to be commenced the first
exhibitions of his uncontrolled majesty.
One of the American missionaries, who has
resided twenty-nine years in the capital of Tur-
key, was an eye witness of the magnificent
pageantry of this public display, wlien the timid
boy was niauguratcd the ruler of forty millions
of subjects. He informed me that at evening,
bis good old aunt sent him a present of seven
beautiful female slaves to commence a royal
establishment.
Such is the force of custom, and such, too, a
measure that gives dignity and honor to the
throne of the grand Sultan of Turkey. Although
Androssi and other commentators on the institu-
tions of Turkey, assert that a few days after the
death of a SuUan the successor is inaugurated
by having the sword of Osman girded upon him
by the superior of the wliirling dervishes, they
have made a mistake. Certain it is, that Sultan
Megid was taken from the seraglio immediately
after the death of his extraordinary father, the
most determined and kingly of the race, followed
by the ulcma^s and all the great dignitaries of
state, to the Mosque of Eyoub, where the august,
semi-barbaric ceremony of putting him in pos-
session of unlimited authority was completed.
Eyoub was a dear and intimate friend of Ma-
hommed, which explains the preference given to
the venerated mosque that bears his name. In-
stead of Osman's sword, a new one is provided
on each inauguration, and the whole series, safely
deposited in the arsenal already referred to,
which we saw, are choicely kept as important
historical memorials.
Megid is a man of medium height, slender,
with a lack-lustre eye, a fatigued expression of
face, and a very black beard. I was assured
that he was a man of good intentions, but neither
brilliant, original nor remarkable in any respect,
aside from the destiny of his position. He has
une brother, claimed by the dissatisfied party —
those opposed to progression, which they con-
ceive to consist in urging the customs and fash-
ions of the Christian nations of Europe — to be
the representative and hope of tlie orthodox
school of Mussulmen.
Both custom and policy require that a prince
standing so near the throne, should be kept out
of sight of the people. Any popular commotion
might unexpectedly stand in the way of the
Sultan, as was the case when Mabmoud was
substituted for his imperial brother without a
moment's warning, when the Janizaries strangled
their royal victim. Megid has three sons, with-
out ever having been married. No such tie as
matrimony is required of the commander of the
faithful. Should he happen to die before his
brother, the never seen heir apparent would in-
stantly be brought forward, instead of either of
the Sultan's children — the law of usage making
it imperative tliat the oldest male branch of the
imperial family shall inherit the sword and its
appurtenances. Former Sultans never flinched
from putting thch" brothers to death immediately,
when eitlier atfection, policy or ambition prompt-
ed them to have one of their own children stand
next to the throne.
A royal nephew is an unheard-of existence in
Turkey. Neither a brother nor sister of the Sul-
tan is permitted, under any pretext whatever, to
allow a male child to live. The exactions of the
Divan extend to remote relations — even the son
of a niece is instantly strangled after birth. An
unsleeping vigilance of the great ofHcers of state,
through the eunuchs, the ICislar Aga and his
minions, anticipates the possibility of saving a
royal-blooded boy alive, however distant in rela-
tionship to the Padisha.
It is a well known fact that the sister of the
present Sultan, Mihr ou Mah Sultana, daughter
of Mahmoud II., was given by her father in mar-
riage to Said Pacha, and that licr life was a
murderous sacrifice to the barbarous law of the
royal seraglio. She was fully assured of the im-
possibility of saving her cluld about lo be born,
should it be a male, and with a view to gratify-
ing her father, she resolved to forestal a dreaded
murder, by procuring an abortion. One of those
who practise the art of fcctal murder as a distinct
profession, was employed, and both mother and
child perished. The princess bieathed her last
in hori ible convulsions. Mahmond actually wept
at the dreadful intelligence, and swore no more
infantile lives should be sacrificed to meet the
requisitions of a hoiTible policy. But the Sultan
died himself a few months after, before a test
case came up. I have seen the sarcophagus in
the magnificent mausoleum in a group of her
brothers and sisters, a few feet from the body of
her father.
In 1842, Ateya, meaning the pure, also a sis-
ter of Sultan Megid, and wife of Halil Pasha,
was in a family way. Astrologers — the tools of
the court, and especially in the service of the
kadines, tlie favorite wives of the Snltan, through
the agency of the eunuchs, predicted that the
child would he a son. They had already had
one tliat was strangled immediately after being
uslicred into the world. Halil, being vastly rich
and powerful, too, from being a brother-in-law
of the Sultan, exerted every influence money
would accomplish in the way of bribes, to save
the innocent unborn, siiould it be a male. Even
the mother of Megid, the Sultana Vilida, whose
position is exalted in all respects, brought her
maternal influence to bear on the Sultan, iu be-
half of his sister. So adroitly were the determi-
nations of the Divan conducted, that the deluded
mother — for she bore a beautiful boy — gloried in
liaving triumphed over the bloody usages of her
royal family, and she nursed and fondled the
sweet infant with a rapture a mother only com-
prehends.
In Ihc meanwhile, the mothers of the Sultan's
three sons gave Megid no peace, declaring that
Ayeta's prince might live, perhaps, to supercede
their own. The fatal word was given, and when
Ateya, on awaking the following morning, told
the attendants to bring the darling of her heart
from the rich cradle, they handed a lifeless body !
Shocked beyond expression, the wretched moth-
er was thrown into fearful con\'nlsions. On
their partial subsidence, a delirium supervened,
and seventy-five days after she died a victim of
tJie most wicked and demoralizing policy that
ever disgraced humanity. I have also seen her
sarcophagus, in proximity with others of the
family.
Rarely more than three of the Sultan's own
immediate male offspring are permitted to live,
but all other relationships to the throne are abso-
lutely cut off in the first dawn of existence.
When a Sultan has no male children, then state
policy requires that a brother's child should be
held in the light of heir apparent. Ninety-two
of the Omiad d^masty were put to death, simply
because they had royal blood in their veins, on
one occasion, by order of the Abasslde Kalipli,
Abdullah I.
In the harem of the Sultan, in which the num-
ber of children annually bom is estimated to be
very large, not one of them is permitted to live,
if the mother is not a kadine — one of a select
number, rarely exceeding seven, exclusively
recognized as capable of bearing royal children.
They are chosen from the odalisques — beautiful
females of the imperial harem — generally Cir-
cassians and Georgians, purchased when chil-
dren. No marriage ever takes place, and the
Snltan may dismiss any or all of them at his
pleasure, and install a new set. Those outliving
him can never enter the Iiarera of another, or be
married. When a Sultan dies, the kadines are
removed to the Eski Serai, to end their days in
perfect solitude.
Some good anecdotes are related of Megid,
that show him to be honest, inclined to benevo-
lence, to justice, and sometimes playfulness,
although it is extremely diffleult for a being
placed at the top of the dizzy pinnacle he occu-
pies, to I'elax from the solemn dignity with
which his throne is invested. Just before my
amval at Constantinople, the Sultan one day
happened to pass by a small Italian theatre that
has been erected for the amusement of foreigners.
He was accompanied by liis three sons. Casting
his eyes upward and seeing the edifice, he in-
quired v/h at it was for? When informed that
plays were exhibited there, he instantly declared
that he would go in and inspect it. It was with
some difficulty that the janitor could be found, it
being about midday. However, his great maj-
esty made an entrance, and commanded a play
to be commenced ! Everybody was put upon a
whirl like a tee-totnra, in pursuit of the company,
who were gathered with extreme difficulty, froin
different parts of the city.
Brought together in such haste, by order of
the Sultan, the poor fellows arrived, out of
breath and exhausted, and in a state of appre-
hension, not knowing but a bowstring was ready
for their necks. It was impossible to commence
acting under such circumstances, even had the
piece been commanded. Megid looked on with
a kind of astonishment that people could be sim-
pletons enough to derive pleasure from a theatri-
cal performance! His reasoning was precisely
upon the principle of the savage, v/ho wondered
the English could sleep on a bed of feathers, as
he put but a single one under his body, on a
clean stone, and he was no more comfortable
than if it had not been there at all.
Word circulated extensively, that some kind
of commotion had occurred at the theatre, and a
crowd collected, staring and waiting to ascertain
what was transpirini,^ ^\ithin. Thinking it might
he a fine sight to have the house full, no sooner
thought than said, and the Snltan gave directions
for filling the seats instanter from the rabble
without.
A new phase now came over the multitude,
and away tliey fled as fast as their legs would
carry them, fearing, in turn, that their necks
might be wanted in the public service. However,
enough were forced in for his majesty to observe
the cifFeet, when he withdrew without comment,
and the subjects of the Sublime Porte made their
exit, ejaculating, "Allah Ken'm !" — God is great.
That Megid is tolerant, is obvious from the
protection given by the government to all denom-
inations of worshippers, whether Christians, Jews
or others. His council have had the sagacity to
discover that there is progress in the world, and
that Turkey cannot prevent intercourse, nor
maintain its antiquated civil and military institu-
tions, in the flood of light pouring in from abroad.
Mahmoud saw it and profited by wliat was obvi-
ous— that knowledge is power. The reforms he
introduced in the discipline of the anny, a less
bloody administration than characterized his
predecessors, influenced his successor, and that
policy, with a naturally amiable temper has
vastly increased the hapjjiness of Turkey, and
insured the security of lives and property of
stranirers.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SONNET TO I*UEI-LA(EINE.
BT J. STARR HOLLOW.iY.
There is much joy in earth, as I have proved.
As Tofi have proved, tbou child from .ingel lands;
And yet my feet trod only desert sands.
Or walked in places where no soft ivinds moved,
Until I saw thee, 0 my best beloved I
Life was a plain, that, wide stretched out, expands
Until the fav-oQ" skies are its sole bands ;
Naught but tbe plain : — and I, a wanderer, roved
From place to place, mute, friendless and alone,
All solitary mid the solitudes,
A sorro«"fuI, a sad, neglected one.
Given to grief, and dull, despairing moods,
UntU I saw thee, seraph, spirit, queen,
Until I saw thee, sweet lueUaceine !
But then a wondrous change was manifest,
0, my beloved ! Buds, and leaves, and flowers,
Sprang up, and quickly made cool, fragrant bowers,
Wberein I could lie down and take sweet rest.
So that I might pursue, refreshed and blest.
Life's pleasant journey. Joy descends in showers,
It surfeits not, e'en while it overpowers,
Filling me with a new and holy zest.
Such now is life : — the deepest pain is bliss,
To suller is but to endure a heaven ;
And this will hist forever; yes, and this
Is solely since thou art to bless me given ;
0 how I love thee, angel, spirit, queen,
0 how I bless thee, dear LueDaoeine I
REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS.
Fashionable hotels are the most democratic
institutions we know of. Here people meet,
sleep, and eat together upon a scale of dead level,
quite curious to consider. We took dinner not
long ago at the House, and obsened a
noted gambler vif a vis witli a flimous poet of an
adjacent town. Alongside of a distinguished di-
vine sat a noted pickpocket ; " while two ladies,
of ' no-better-than-tliey-should-be ' notoriety, were
elbowing the lovely wife and daughter of a New
Hampshire judge." In our hotels are mingled
thief and honest man, orator and convict, vir-
tue and vice, highwayman and hangman, legal
eminence and eminent loafers, and in short, a
perfect chowder of the heads and tails of society.
— New York paper.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A BALLAD.
BY D. H.'\,RDT, JR.
I ranna' sing any more, my heart is sac sad,
The tields in their sno^vj' -white vestments axe clad ;
My home is na happy now Donald 's away,
And a' is sae gloomy that late was sac gay ;
The song-birds ha' left the warm ingle-nook,
And my tears flow fast as the waves o' the brook.
The trees arc a' leafless that late were sae green.
The flowers are a' faded, that sae lately were seen
In the warm ingle-nook, where the gay bird and bee
On their light pinions roamed sue joyous and free ;
But the sunshine o' summer will soon come again,
And beauty ouce more deck the woodland and plain.
The smiles o* my Donald once more I shall see,
I'or he will return in the summer to me ;
Then, 0 then, I will sing o' the days gone hy,
Aud we "11 be sac happy, my Donald and I ;
Then hasten, sweet summer, I'd greet thee once more,
For thou to his home wilt my Donald restore.
A Mistake. — Of all the ingenious mistakes,
into which erring man has fallen, perhaps none
have been so pernicious in their consequences, or
has brought so many evils into the world, as tbo
popular opinion, that tbe way of the transgressor
is pleasant and easy. — Hosca Baltou.
200
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
gT-rrrgnri'i'i i ipiri wmji wrptiriinirniiiiT \rr\'n} ^^
'J HE ASTOU LIBRARY BUILDING, NEW YORK.
A PRKSENT WORTH HAVING.
The engraving presented herewith is a repre-
sentation of the very bcautifnl and costly dia-
mond snufl" box presented, sometime sinec, by
the Sultan of Turkey to Dr. Iliteheock, of this
eity. As a work of merlianical art it is one of
the most exquisite and cbiltoratu i)roductions of
this (Imraeter that we have ever inspected. In
point of design, richness of material and beauty
of linish, it surpasses anytiiing wc have ever seen
of the kind. It is indeed a present worth Iiaving.
Of the precise value of this beautiful gift, we do
not exactly know, but we arc informed that its
owner would not part with it for teit thousand dol-
lars. The box is
oblong in shape,
made from the
purest gold, the
exterior surface
most elaborately
enamelled, pre-
senting to the eye
some of the most
beautiful paint-
ings of flowers,
banners, and war-
like instruments
ever seen. In the
centre of the lid
is a large and
magnificent diamond, from which radiate six-
teen silver rays, each of whicli is full}' studded
with diamonds, increasing in size as they ap-
proach the extremity of each ray. Surrounding
the edge of the lid is an elegant wreath of grape
vine ex([uisitely wrought, and containing ten
large diamonds of dazzling brightness. The
whole number of diamonds contained in this
magnificent gift so worthily bestowed is ninety-
six. Dr. Hitclicock is too well known to our
citizens, as an eminent practical dentist, good
citizen, and firm friend, to require any eulogium
from our pen in this connection — combining
those qualities for and taste of pursuit which fit
him in a remarkable degree for the important
and useful profession he has chosen in which to
benefit his iellow-men.
THE LAWRENCE MONU9IENT.
Below wc give a view of this beautiful monu-
ment, erected in memory of Commodore James
Lawrence, one of the noble sjdrits wliosc bril-
liant achievements won immortal lionor in our
last naval war with Great Hritaiti. A l>rief sy-
nopsis of his life in this coTincction will doubt-
less interest our readers. He was born at Bur-
lington, New Jersey, in 17yl. He early mani-
fested a strong predilection for the sea; but his
father, who was a lawyer, was anxious that he
should pursue his own profession ; and, when
only thirteen years of age, he commenced the
study of the law ; but after
SNUFF-BOX PRESENTED TO bR. HITCHCOCK.
tlic death of his fa-
ther, he entered
the navy as a
- midshipman, in
1798. In 1801,
the Tripoli war
having commenc-
ed, he was pro-
moted, and, in
/1803, wasscntout
to the Mediterra-
nean, as the first
lieutenant of the
8i hoooner Enter-
prise. While he
was there, he per-
formed a conspic-
ASTOR LIBRARY, N. YORK.
Tliis noble Institution was en-
dowed by the will of John Jacob
Astor, in a codicil dated August
22d, 1839. $400,000 was the
amount appropriated {for build-
ing $75,000), and $120,000 to the
purchase of books and other ob-
jects of the library, and the resi-
due to be invested as a fund for
the gradual increase of the libra-
ry. The following are the trust-
ees for 18.'32 : the Mayor of New
York, ex-officio, Washington Lw-
ing, Wm. B. Astor, Daniel Lord,
Jas. G. King, Jos. G. Cogswell,
Sam'l B. Ruggles, Sam'l VVard,
Chas. A. Bristed, John A. Dix,
and Thos. H. Taylor. Jos. G.
Cogswell, LL.D., superintend-
ent. He is now on his second
tour collecting books in Europe
for the library ; in 1848 he pur-
chased 20,000 volumes; in 1851
there were iu the library 28,364
books, the cost of which was from
$35,000 to $40,000. The build-
ing will be completed and the
library opened to the public with
at least 50,000 volumes in a few
weeks. Under its present efficient
management the Astor Library
will give to the public one of the
most useful catalogues ever pub-
lished in this country, as a key to
one of the richest libraries in
America. The edifice is 65 feet
front by 120 deep. The plan
adopted was the one submitted
by Mr. Alexander Saeltzer, from
Berlin; the height from founda-
tion to roof is 70 feet. It is built
in the style of the royal palaces
of Florence, and is composed of
brown stone and brick ; scarcely
a particle of wood enters into its
composition. No building in the
United States of the character is
formed to so large an extent of
iron, besides being altogether
novel in this country. The first
floor contains the lecture and
reading rooms, with accommo-
dations for 500 persons, located
on either side of the building.
The basement contains the keep-
er's room, cellars, coal vaults,
furnaces for warming, etc The
floors are made of richly wrought
Mosaic work, resting on iron
beams. A single flight of thirty-
eight Italian marble steps, deco-
rated on either side by a stone
Sphinx, leads nearly to the centre
of the library hall in the second
story ; this is surrounded by four-
teen brick piers, plastered and
finished in imitation of Italian
marble, and su|)jiorting iron gal-
leries midway between the floor
and ceiling by four iron spiral
staircases. From the corners of
the room the main galleries arc
reached, and the intermediate
gallery of lighter description is
connected with the main gallery
and (.iglii. stairca-ics. The whole
IS ingeniously arranged.
'^■-Ci^'Ci
LAWRENCE NAVAL MONUMENT, TRINITY CHURCHYARO, NEW YORK.
nous part in the destruction of the frigate Phila-
delphia, which had been captured by the Tripo-
litans. In the same year, he was invested with
the temporary command of the Enterprise, dur-
ing the bombardment of Tripoli by Commodore
Preble, all the ships of the squadron being em-
ployed to cover the boats during the attack ; and
so well did he execute his duty, that the commo-
dore could not restrain the expression of his
thanks. He remained in the Mediterranean three
years, and then retumed witli Preble to the U.
States, having previously been transferred to the
frigate John Adams, as first lieutenant. In June,
1812, war was declared between Great Britain
and the United States, and Lawrence, at the time
in command of the Hornet, a few days afterwards
sailed with a squadron under command of Com-
modore Rogers, for the purpose
of intercepting the Jamaica fleet.
They returned, however, at the
end of the following month, to
Boston, without having been able
to accomplish their object. Law-
rence thenaccompanit;d Commo-
dore Bainbridge on a cruise to
the East Indies ; but they separa-
ted near St. Salvador, on the
coast of Brazil, the Hornet re-
maining to blockade a British
ship of war, laden with specie,
till compelled to retire by tlie ar-
rival of a seventy-four. Peb. 24,
1813, the Hornet fell in with the
brig Peacock, Captain Peake,
which she took after a furious
action of fifteen minutes. This
vessel was deemed one of the fin-
est in the British navy. In the
number of her men and guns, she
was somewhat inferior to the Hor-
net. She sunk before all the
prisoners could be removed. The
latter was considerably damaged
in rigging and sails. Lawrence
returned to the United States,
where he was welcomed with the
applause due to his conduct; but
the most honorable eulogy be-
stowed upon it, was contained in
a letter, published by the officers
of the Peacock, expressing their
gratitude for the consideration
and kindness with which they
had been treated. Shortly after
his return, he was ordered to re-
pair to Boston, and take com-
mand of the frigate Chesapeake.
This he did with regret, as the
Chesapeake was one of the worst
ships in the navy. He had been
but a short time at Boston, when
the British frigate Shannon, Cap-
tain Brooke, appeared before the
harbor, and defied the Chesa-
peake to combat. Lawrence did
not refuse the challenge, although
his ship was far from being in a
condition for action ; and, June
1, 1813, he sailed out of the har-
bor, and engaged his opponent.
After the ships had exchanged
several broadsides, and Lawrence
had been wounded in the leg, he
called his boarders, when he re-
ceived a musket-ball in his body.
At the same time, the eneniy
boarded, and, after a desperate
resistance, succeeded in taking
possession of the ship. Almost
all the officers of the Chesapeake
were either killed or wounded.
The last exclamation of Law-
rence, as they were carrying him
below, after the fatal wound, was,
" Don't give up the ship." He
lingered for four days in intense
pain, and expired on the 5th of
June. He was buried at Halifax
with every mark of honor. The
monument is plain and chaste in
its design, and the beautiful wil-
low as it bends in pensive grace
over tlie tomb, seems to wave in
mournful silence a requiem to
the departed.
GLEASON'S PTCTOmAL DHAWING ROOM COMPANION.
201
3IAItIE ALBONI.
This great vocalist — the greatest, indeed
we may say, the only great modern contralto
who has of late years appeared upon the stage
of Europe ; — for, be it remembered, that Grisi,
Sontag and others of the leading vocalists of
the day, as well as Jenny Lind herself, are
all soprani — was born, as we are told, in 1826,
her father being a captain in the Papal army.
Despite the extraordinary proofs of her talent
and love for music which she gave even at an
early age, her father was prejudiced against
her making it a profession, and it was only at
the decided opinionof many of his best friends
that he at length gave his consent that Marie
should cultivate her natural powers. 'This
was when she had attained the age of eleven.
In consequence of this consent, after passing
two years under the tuition of M. Bagioli,
she was admitted to the Conservatory of Bo-
logna. This school was then undor the ad-
ministration of Rossini, and with this remark-
able and eminent composer she remained un-
til she had reached the age of fifteen. At this
period Rossini contracted an engagement for
Iier with the Theatre of Bologna. Her first
appearance was in the part of Sappho, and
she at once established herself in the opinion
of the leading Italian critics as one of the
most eminent vocalists of the day. In the
following year she appeared at Milan, and
there decided her previous triumph. From
Milan she travelled to the principal capitals
of Europe, in each of which she established
her reputation, being perhaps the only great
female vocalist who has met with equal suc-
cess in Vienna, Berlin, Naples, St. Peters-
burg, London and Paris. Her husband, to
whom she has been but a few months mar-
ried, is the Count Achillc Pepoli, of Venice,
a gentleman of great literary talent, and son
of the distinguished poet of that name, whose
devotion to his country and enmity to Napo-
leon and despotism have rendered liis name
so famous with his countrymen. Madame
Alboni arrived in New York in June last by
the Hermann. Her intention in coming at
this period was for the purpose of visiting
with her husband the splendid scenery of our
own country, and she was in this case, as she
is in most others, the herald of her own ar-
rival. She had, however, brought with her
several letters of introduction to some of the
more influential citi/xns of New York, and
by their persuasions she was induced to give
two concerts previous to the final termination
of the summer season in that city. These
concerts, we need scarcely say, were brilliantly
successful ones, and had the effect of deter-
mining her to pass the year in a tour through
America. The voice of Madame Alboni is
one of the most brilliant as well as the sweet-
est and most sonorous of true contraltos. It
descends to fa in the base clef, and ascends
to the do in alt, having tlie extended compass of two and a half
octaves complete. One must have heard this great artist to be
aware of the singular skill with which she regulates and controls
this magnificent organ, for no description could give any fair idea
of her superb voice, and its unequalled power and sweetness, as
well as the ease with which it is exerted, and the intense care with
PORTRAIT OF MADAME ALBONI.
which it has been cultivated. It is, however, in her genuine chest
voice, whicli is of almost unparalleled power and beauty, that her
real strength as the principal contralto of the age resides, and that
she is chiefly to be esteemed as the only legitimate successor to
Pisaroni. Our engraving gives a faithful representation of this
accomplished and eminent songstress.
METROPOLITAN HOTEL, KEW YORK.
The Metropolitan Hotel, of New York, the
opening dinner at which is given below, is one
of the most magnificent structures of the kind
in the country, and, perhaps, in the world.
No expense has been spared in rearing the
edifice, or in fitting it out with all tlic modern
improvements. The building forms an L,
three hundred feet fronting on Broadway, and
two hundred feet on Prince street. It is six
stories high, and presents a front of brown
stone, handsomely finished. The architec-
ture is termed Roman, though the style is not
pure in any order. It is under the proprie-
torship of the brothers Leland, who formerly
kept the Clinton Hotel in Beekman street.
Before the house was opened, four hundred
persons had engaged rooms. The night be-
fore the ceremony of opening there were five
hundred lodgers in the house, and the clerks
were obliged to refuse three hundred appli-
cants for apartments. The opening dinner,
or " house wanning," as the old Knicker-
bockers used to term it, given by the proprie-
tors, all who were present agreed in pronoun-
cing a very comfortable atlair of its kind.
There were about three hundred guests pres-
ent, including members of the press, members
of the bar, and bon vivauts of various profes-
sions. The bill of fare was a good one, and
the appetites of the guests were fully equal to
its full appreciation. After the covers were
removed, for about an hour the clatter of
knives and forks, and the jingling of glasses
betokened sharp work. It is enough to say of
this part of the entertainment, that the means,
&c., were good and well served, and the wines,
of several brands, were excellent. In the
brief space which our limits allow, it would
be impossible to particularize the various de-
partments of this magnificent house. Suffice
it to say, the whole number of rooms in the
house, exclusive of the first floor and base-
ments, is three hundred and fifty-three. In the
sleeping apartments, there are over four hun-
dred beds, all made upon spring mattresses,
with hair mattresses over them. Accommo-
dations for six hundred guests are always in
readiness, and the house is capable of holding
one thousand, if occasion should require.
Two hundred servants are to be employed in
the hotel. The cooks are Frenchmen, the
chambermaids, washers, ironers, etc., are
white girls, and the waiters all black men and
boys. The four brothers Leland, will them-
selves manage the house in all its different
departments, giving their personal attention in
the office, and wherever supervision and direc-
tion are required. The building was erected
by Mr. P. S. Van Rensselaer, at an expense
of $600,000. The ground on which it stands
is valued at 8200,000, and the furniture cost
$120,000— making a total of $920,000. Many
of the rooms are already engaged, and appli-
cations are constantly being made, personally and by letter, for
apartments during the fall and winter seasons. All the public
rooms and passages in the hotel are to be heated by steam pipes.
There are gas burners wherever light is required throughout the
house, and the bells and speaking tubes are of the most perfect
construction.
DINNER AT THE OPENING OF THE METROPOLITAN HOTEL, NEW YORK.
202
GLEASON'S riCTOlUAL DllAAVING llOOM COMPANION.
[Written for Olcimoii'M Pictorml.]
THOU ART GONIH TO THY KIJST!
DY J. HUNT, JR.
Thou art Rono to thy roHt, in the viilloy of slumbor,
Wburo Horrow ami HiilToriiig lUfiturb tlieo no more ;
To iiriiiHO, in (nxiiva, with that glonouH nuinhoc
Of flanctiflfJ Niintfl, on GodV infinity nhoro.
Tho peace of that kingdom, the bliss, tlic fruition,
No mortal hiitk tiinkid the sweuts of its lovo ;
For imgolH cur^Hfi tbcii, and fiiro thco tuition
In all tho high dutiuH dititingulahcd iibovo.
Thou art gone to thy roP t, and tho thought, how sustuiulng.
That we, who couio often, will meet thee at last;
And share in tlio part of forever remaining
Wlieve feara tire unltnown, and misfortune is past.
That faith of tlio Spirit, bow fondly we cherish,
Which t;ilently whi-^pere — '• ^Vhen tempted, bo strong;
Though thy fucultios fail, and tliy tenement perish,
Tho ovils of pnssion -will vanish ere long."
Thou art gone to thy rest, wbcro tho sunlight of science
Uufolds to thy vision a " world without end ;"
TtNTiere virtue and wisdom are joined in alliance,
And all to progression eternally tend.
Thy tranquil enjoyment — how priceless the treasure,
No painful regrets boave thy bosom with sighs ;
For there, in those harmonized mansions of pleasure,
Tho tear of afflictiou is dried from all eyes.
Thou art gone to thy rest, where the breezes of ages
Are ladened with incense of roseate health ;
To mingle with patriarchs, prophets and sages,
Whoso joy is the crown of immutable wealth,
0, dearly departed, in seasons of sadness.
When grief on my heart bangs a burdeneome load ;
Dispel my dark feai-s by the smiles of thy gladness,
And save me a seat in thy sunny abode.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE CAVE OF ST. ANDREW.
A TALE OF ITALY AI7B THE RHINE.
BY E. CDRTISS IIINE, V. S. K.
'Tis strange enough : night after night for years,
He hath pursued long vigils in this tower.
Without a witness, Masfred.
It is the Rhine ! our mountiiin vineyards laving,
I see the bright Hood shine ;
Sing on the march with evvry banner waving.
Sing, brothers, 'tis tho Rhine! Mrs. IIemaks.
There is probably no spot on earth more
charmingly beautiful and picturesque than the
valley of the bhie and winding Rhine. Inde-
pendently of the thousand lovely objects which
nature has showered broadcast along its pebbled
banks, there is a halo of traditionary glory rest-
ing with almost eft'ulgent briglitness upon its
gleaming waters, and calling back to memory
the days of feudal strife and grandeur, wlien
those grim old castles that mirror their rugged
features in its quiet depths, resounded to the clar-
ion battle-cry of legions, and the vine-elad slopes,
now so green and verdant, ran red with the life-
blood of mail-clad warriors, who fought and
struggled on the heights above.
Who has not heard or read of the famous
castle of the Drochenfels, lifting its time-worn
battlements from the lowering crags that form
its base, and seeming to bid defiance to all hu-
man power ? That castle stands there still, stern
and grim, like some seared and war-worn senti-
nel, keeping watch above the relies of the slain,
blackened and bcgrimmed by the mines of
powder that have been sprung beneath its ram-
parts, but gloomy in its rude magnificence, seem-
ing like the wreck of another world.
" And many a tower for some fair mischief won.
Low the disclosed wave beneath its ruin run.''
Whoever has visited the Drochenfels, may, per-
haps, remember that at a little distance to the
westward stands a round tower, of the rudest
and most primitive style of architecture, but
strong and firm as the everlasting hill upon
whose l>row it stands, and looks with stern com-
posure upon the scenes around. It is with this
tower that we have to do at present, though the
incidents of our talc will lead us to other and
still more rugged spots ere its conclusion.
It was towards the sunset of a lovely day in
autumn, when two horsemen were seen slowly
approaching by a l>rown and winding road that
led around the base, and then up the .side of the
hill, towards that old stern tower to which we
have just alluded. They were both dressed in
that jaunty fashion which characterized the cos-
tume of that feudal period: a sort of half mail,
with plumed cap studded with small gold but-
tons, long jack boots extending to the knee, and
worn outside of the trov/sers, spurs of gilt metal,
and heavy claymores, like those worn by the
Scotch Highlanders in the days of Wallace.
Their steeds were of a dappled gray, spirited
and lull of fire, though their foaming flunks gave
evidence that tliey had seen hard Korvico since
tho morning liglit, yet they advanced with a
proud step and bright eye, as if unused to flag
when their services were demanded by their stal-
wort riders.
One of these riders was a man in the prime of
life, to judge from Iii.s uppeiirancu not more than
Ibrty-iivc, with regular features, and a bright
keen eye, wlucli flashed like a star-beam as he
discoursed upon objects whicli seemed to interest
him; while lus companion was by far more
youthful in his appearance, and with an expres-
sion of melancholy upon his tine Icaturcs, which
sliowed that he had some secret cause of sorrow
that preyed u])on his heart, and stole the roses
from his check.
" Well, yonder is the tower," said the elder of
the horsemen, as a sudden turn in the road
brought the ponderous structure into view, "and
you will soon be at the end of your journey."
" I'm glad to hear it," replied the other, " for
I am wearied with the long ride I have had since
I met you this morning."
" Well, it was your own proposition, you
know."
" Yes, it is true enough," remarked the young-
er, in a musing tone, " I wished to join your
brotherhood, and wrote to you that I desired you
to meet me at Grovcnstcin, in order to conduct
me to your strong hold, so timt I became initiat-
ed without delay."
"And I met you according to your wish.
But how knew you aught of our brotherhood, or
my name, or even that I was the leader ?"
" Those are questions which I cannot answer.
Let it content you that I wish to join you, that I
am willing to abide by the rules that govern the
bund, and that I bring with me a dauntless
heart and a strong arm."
"'Tis well. That is enough, I do not wish
to know your motives. It is sufficient for me
that you will he completely in my power when
once you cross the threshold of the door of the
tower. And sliould you at any time attempt to
play me false, I have some strong cells in St.
Andrew's Gave in the depths of the black forest,
where you can have the remainder of your life-
time to repent your temerity. But here we are
at the door."
The two horsemen dismounted. The elder
advanced to the huge gate or door, which barred
the entrance to the tower, touched a secret
spi'ing, which exposed a bell-knob, hidden from
the view of the most curious observer by the in-
genious manner in which was let in flush with
the wood of the door, and painted to correspond
with it, and giving it a violent jerk, a tremen-
dous gong resounded within the huge building
with a crash like the dull bellowing of distant
thunder when heard in the solemn midnight.
The next moment the heavy iron-studded door
swung slowly open upon its creaking hinges,
and two grim-looking men, dressed in complete
suits of armor, made their appearance. One
proceeded to the horses, which had been left
standing unfastened when their riders dismount-
ed, and led them away towards an out building ;
while the other, having bowed in the new com-
ers, swung the door to again, and everything was
hushed and silent as if no hximan being had ever
passed within the walls of that mysterious tower.
A fair, light-haired and lighter-hearted girl was
Rosamond de Grane, the pride and glory of the
Castle of AVallenstein. Her father was one of
those old feudal lords who could boast of his
thousand adherents and vassals, and who, time
and again, had been besieged in his strong hold
by rival lords, who envied his possessions, and
would fain have humbled his pride and crushed
his glory in the dust.
But a hard task those rival chiefs found it,
when they attempted to humble the pride of the
old lord of Wallenstcin. Pent up in his rock-
built castle, he hurled death and defiance at his
foes at the same time from the ponderous cannon
that lined its walls, and vain had been the efforts
of his enemies to entrap him, or to catch him
unprepared.
Among the retainers of the lord of Wallen-
stcin was a joungman, Allan Gennand byname,
who, at an early age, had looked with passionate
fondness upon the young heiress, Kosnmond de
Grane. And to speak truly, rumor for once did
not lie when it asserted that the fair maiden did
not look with coldness upon her handsome wooer ;
at any rate, many a long ramble did they take
together upon the moonlighted battlements of tho
castle, when all, save ilie giim and trusty warder,
was buried in profound slumber, and rumor also
said that kisses v/ere sometimes given and re-
ceived by the young pair, when they imagined
no eyes, save those of the slurri above, were look-
ing on them ; i)ut whether rumor in thin caw ut-
tered a truth or an uiilrutli, " tins deponent
sayeth not."
A i>roud old man was tlic stei-n lord ol' Wal-
lenstcin. He would have visited with the most
terrible vengeance any attempt on the part of his
humble dependent and retainer to win the hand
of the young dove that had its cote in his inmost
heart ; so the lovers were forced to meet in
secret.
They supposed they met in secret, but other
eyes than the stars — envious eyes, too, — were
often bent upon them, when they went forth upon
the moonlit battlement to woo and talk of other
days, and build bright hopes, and store them
away in the great warehouses of the future.
Warland de Vintiger was also a retainer of
the lord of Wallenstcin ; but, unlike Allan Gcr-
mand, there was nothing frank and open in his
disposition — nothing that would be likely to com-
mend him to a female heart. And yet that bold
young man had the audacity to propose an
elopement to the fair heiress of Wallenstein, al-
though he well knew that another was in the
field before him, and that the old man would
sooner see his daughter buried beneath the
waves of the lordly Rhine that flowed beneath the
battlements, than wed to one like him. Of
course his proposition was rejected with disdain,
and he left the presence of that lovely maiden
breathing vows of the most terrible vengeance.
The next night, when the roll was called, he was
found missing from the castle, and although the
captain of the guard caused diligent search to be
made for hira throughout the neighboring coun-
try, no intelligence could be gained of his where-
abouts, and it was generally supposed that he
had been drowned while bathing in the Rhine.
A few weeks later, and rumors began to be
rife that extensive robberies had been committed
in many of the hamlets and villages that gem the
banks of the lordly river, and consternation was
depicted in the faces of such as had reason to
fear a visit from these midnight plunderers. It
was said that a number of desperate young men
had banded themselves together under the title
of the "League of the Terrible Brotherhood,"
and that they had fortified themselves in some
unknoAvn and secluded spot, from whence they
could sally forth, and carry woe and destruction
into the bosoms of helpless families thronghout
the whole valley of the Rhine. Various were
the speculations in regard to the numbers of the
band, the place of their resort, and also as to the
name and title of their leader, but nothing defi-
nite could be hit upon in order to elucidaie the
mystery. Meanwhile the robberies went on,
and the desperadoes had become so emboldened
by success that they at length began to force
their way into the armed castles of the feudal
chiefs, where, fighting their way in many cases,
they carried oflT the plate and other articles of
value, and then made good their retreat. So
daring had become these depredations that even
tlie baronial chiefs began to tremble in their
strong holds for the possession of their trcasui-cs,
and doubled the watch that guarded the draw-
bridges leading to their castles.
It was a dark and stormy night in the begin-
ning of the autumn; the winds howled "mourn-
fully, 0, mournfully" through the noble forest
trees that skirted the darkened Rhine, and the
lieavy rain-drops pattered on the earth. Within
the castle of Wallenstein, all was buried in
silence, and nothing broke in upon the silence,
save the roar of the midnight tempest as he
swept in wrath and fury- onward upon his way.
The retainers had all retired, and even the watch
dogs were snoozing quietly in their kennels,
thankful, perhaps, for being sheltered from the
peltings of the storm.
One solitary light was burning within the
chamber of the Lady Rosamond do Grane.
That solitary light fell upon the classic features
and lovely form of the fair maiden as she knelt
beside her bed, and oficred up a fervent prayer
to the throne of the Most Iligli, and never did
light reveal more beauty and symmetry than it
revealed to the prying eyes of one solitary in-
truder within that sanctuary of innocence. Con-
cealed behind the curtains of the bed was a man
— a bold, bad man — who gazed with unholy
detircs upon the figure of iliat fair girl, and
drank in like an inebriate all the beauties of her
person. Then, with a wild rush, he darted upon
Ins victim, struck the li^ht from the table, leav-
ing the room in utter darkness, and seizing upon
the fuini of Rosamond de Grane, who had i'aint-
ed on the first ahinn,he borehcr all unconscious-
ly from the castle, llireadiiig in his onward flight
dark and intricate pa-ssuges, with which, however,
he seemed to be perfectly familiar, when having
gained the other bide of the moat, which sur-
rounded the castle, he was met by a body of
some sixty horsemen. The form of the poor
nmiden was taken upon one of the steeds behind
its mailed I'ider, when ofl' galloped the whole
cavalcade, and Aveio soon lost to view in tho
darkness and the night storm,
Tlie next morning there was a fearful commo-
tion, when it was found the young heiress of
Wallenstein had been stolen from her father's
castle. The old man raved and tore his hair,
and started off five hundred horsemen to st-our
the country round in every direction for his lost
darling, and even went so far as to declare that
any one of his retainers, or even vassals, wlio
should succeed in rescuing her from the power of
her captors, might claim Iier hand. But it was
all in vain !
"There was mounting 'niong Graemes oftheNetherby clan,
Forsters, b'cnwicitBand Muagraves, they rode and they run ;
There was nicing and chiising on Caniiobie lea ;
But the lost maid of Nethcrby ne'er did they see."
The Stranger, on entering that strong tower
upon the shores of the Rhine, was met by thirty
or forty horsemen, all clad precisely like himself,
for the suit which he then wore had been brought
to him by the elder horseman whom we first in-
troduced to the reader, who compelled him to
adopt it in exchange for his own, before he
would consent to permit him to accompany him ;
and as the youth confronted the gleaming eyes
of all those stem men, he quailed not beneath
the ordeal, but maintained a firm front and an
unrufilcd composure of demeanor,
" So you have come to join us ?" said one of
the hand, regarding the new comer with a look
so stern and solemn, that, despite all his compo-
sure, his eyes drooped for a moment. " Well,
you are to sign this bond," pointingto a sheet of
parchment lying upon a table, "with your own
blood, and then you become a member of the
brotherhood. This contract specifies that you
are implicitly to obey the orders of your chief,
and that, should you betray the secrets of the
fraternity, you are to perish at the burning stake.
And now are you ready to subscribe to these
conditions ?"'
" I am," firmly replied the stranger.
"'Tis well; and now let us to business,"
A vein in the arm of the new comer was
lanced, a pen was introduced into the crimson
fluid, and with a steady hand did he sign the
parchment to which were already affixed at least
a hundred other names. He was now a member
of the league.
" I will now show you your apartment," said
the first horseman introduced to the reader, and
who was also the chief of the band ; " it is now
getting late, and I suppose you would like to ob-
tain a little rest. In the morning, I will more
fully acquaint you with the nature of the duties
you will be required to perform. But methinks
you have a cunningly devised mask upon your
face. It is strange that I did not notice it
before."
" That is no concern of yours."
" Time, my new brother. It was but a passing
remark. I seek not to pry into your motives
for wearing it. We all have our secrets, let
them remain inviolate. But here we are at tho
door of yom* chamber. I wish you a good night
and pleasant slumber."
Saying this, the chief handed a ponderous key
to his new ally, and turning on his heel, took his
departure, his spurs rattling, and his huge sabre
jingling in its scabbard, as he strode with mea-
sured tread along the echoing corridor.
The room assigned the new comer was at the
extreme end of the coiridor, and applying tlie
key to the heavy door, he at once opened it, and
entered the apartment. It was of moderate size,
dimly lighted by a sort of swinging lamp sus-
pended from the stone roof, and furnished with
articles more remarkable for their strength than
their magnificence. A plain couch stood in one
comer of the room, and after cautiously scan-
ning everything that met his gaze, the stranger
seated himself upon it, and for some moments
seemed lost in a fit of musing abstraction.
"'Tis well," at length he muttered, in a low
tone ; " 't is well, so far. I am in the tower, and
could I but ascertain her whereabouts, I make
no doubt I could soon devise a plan to rescue her
from captivity. But hark! mcthougiit I heard a
voice as of some one singing."
lie paused and listened for a few seconds al-
most breathless, so intent waa his eagerness to
GLEASON'S l^ICTOPJAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
203
satisfy himself as to whether his surmise had
been correct. But all was silent, save the low
moaning of the autumn winds, as they crept with
an almost human siy:li around that old stone
tower.
" Surely I thought I lieard a voice ; but my
ears must have deceived me. No, there it is
again ! Can my suspicions be correct V
A soft and plaintive voice — a female voice —
broke in upon the silence of the place, and this
was the strain it sung :
" The autumn winds arc sighing
ilong the night-cliid phun,
My taper-light is dying,
I seek my couch in pain.
For sadly pass the hours,
To one imprisoned here ;
GonC; gone are lite's fresh flowers,
And all is dark and drear V
" Surely I know that voice," said the stranger ;
" it comes from a room opposite to my own.
Now favor me, kind fortune, and henceforth I
will be thy slave."
Rising from the couch on which he had been
seated, the young man unlocked his own door,
and at once proceeded to that of the room oppo-
site. Listening for a moment at the key-hole,
and hearing nothing, he applied his lips and
breathed the name of Rosamond de Grane. A
murmur of astonishment was heard within, and
the next moment the door opened, and the face
of the young maiden peered forth, but so pallid,
so haggard, and so sadly altered, that the stran-
ger scarcely recognized it.
" Who are you, and what do you require V
timidly inquired the captive Kosamond.
The stranger advanced, and breathed a few
hasty words in her ear, which seemed to exert a
powerful influence over the mind of the maiden,
for a soft smile overspread her altered features,
lighting them up with all the radiance of days
gone by, and then with a whispered " I'll follow
you to the ends of the eartli if need be," he placed
her little hand confidingly in his, and together
they stole along the gloomy corridor towards the
main entrance to the tower.
All the band were sunk in tlie most profound
slumber, or if any was keeping watch, it was in
some unseen spot, for nothing broke in upon the
solemn silence, save the light tread of the fugi-
tives, as they stole as noiselessly as possible
along the corridor. At length they came to the
heavy bronze door which barred the entrance to
the tower, when, witli a half-suppressed siiudder,
the young man applied his liand to the ponder-
ous knob, and attempted to turn it.
But what was his astonishment — his tciTor
and dismay — when, as he imagined he was about
to make his egress from the tower, the turning of
the knob awakened the vibrations of a tremen-
dous gong tliat liung suspended above the gate-
way, and the terrible crash and roar of the deaf-
ening instrument sent its brazen din throughout
the entire edidficc !
And ere the echoes of that gong had died
away, there rose, as it seemed from the very
pavement, at least a hundred stern-browed men
in complete armor, and with heavy claymores in
their hands, all confronting the intercepted fugi-
tives. And at the head of tliis grim array, stood,
in a suit of shining steel, the leader of the band —
Warland de Vintiger !
" Traitor that thou art !" said he, in a tone of
voice ominously calm, as he bent his glance
upon the stranger; "think you I did not under-
stand your motives and your purpose, from the
Urst moment when I received your letter urging
me to come and meet you, and conduct you to
our band. You laid your plan deeply, but mine
was deeper laid than yours. I saw through all
your manceuvi-es from the first, for I have my
spies at every point, Allan Germand, and now
you see how my intentions have been carried
out. And now I shall send you to the Cave of
St. Andrew, there to be placed in a cell, and lite-
rally starved ; and you, Miss Rosamond," point-
ing to the trembling maiden, " you, too, as you
seem to be so fond of his society, shall share his
captivity. Away with the traitor and his minion !
Let my orders be carried out to the letter!"
* * * *
Afar in the wild recesses of the farther Alps,
at the end of a huge gulley, formed by some
convulsion of nature, the mouth of a yawning
cavern was distinctly visible to such as chose to
venture in that wild rugged defile, haunted by
wild beasts, and superstitions more fearful to the
simple peasantry than even beasts of prey.
Within this frightful cavern a range of cells had
been constructed by the brotherhood of the
Rhine, to which they were wont to transport
such persons as became obnoxious to them, and
cither cause their death by the slow tortm-cs of
fiimine, increased by the Jiorrors of the spot in
which they were incarcerated, or else compel
them to drag out a life of misery amid those
damp recesses, with just enough of sustenance to
sustain the vital spark, and render existence a
hateful burthen too greivous to be borne.
it was a wild and stormy afternoon in October,
whcM a cavalcade, consisting of some ten or a
dozen horsemen, approached the cavern by a
winding and rugged road that led along the ra-
vine. In their midst, bound upon two steeds,
were Rosamond de Grane and the youth who
had risked his life to rescue her from captivity.
They were both deadly pale, and seemed worn
by the long journey they had been compelled to
make ; but they were firm and composed, and
rejoiced tliat rhcy were to be permitted to meet
their fate together.
At length the horsemen halted at the opening
of the cavern, dismounted, and assisting their
two captives to follow their example, they led
them to a cell hewn in the solid rocks and heavi-
ly barred with iron, swung open the ponderous
door, and thrust them in, after which, closing it
again and securing it by huge bars, they took
their departure, giving vent to many a bitter
taunt upon the helpless condition of their vic-
tims, as their iron-shod heels and their rattling
armor resounded through the lofty cavern, and
slowly died away.
A smile was upon the features of Allan Ger-
mand, the first they had worn for many a day.
No sooner was all silent throughout the cave,
than approaching his companion in captivity, he
said :
"Listen, Rosamond, their cavern cannot hold
us. I have a plan to escape from this cell as
soon as the night sets in."
*■ Ah ! what is it, Allan V
"Do you see that phial '?" producing one from
the pocket of his doublet.
" Yes ; but what has that to do with our re-
lease, my love ?"
"Much. That phial contains a liquor so po-
tent that it will eat off those iron bars in less
than an hour. The hand thought it was a medi-
cine, and so permitted me to retain it in mj
possession."
"And to night you will tiy it."
"Yes ; so soon as the daikness gathers over
the mountains."
And Allan Germand was as good as his word.
No sooner had the darkness of twilight stolen
into the cavern, than the contents of the phial,
which was nothing more nor less than what is
now known as nitric acid, was poured upon seve-
ral of the huge bars which guarded the windows
of that cavern-cell. In less than an hour the
metal had become so softened that with the aid
of his atliletic arms, he was enabled to burst
open the window, and feel that he was once moi'C
free. All was silent in the cave; and leading
the trembling Rosamond with one hand, and
cautiously feeling his way with the other, he at
length emerged from tlic entrance, and found
himself in the ravine leading down the side of
the mountain.
The stars were shining down cold and clear
from the far sky into that frightful gore, for the
storm had sunk to rest, and by their faint light,
the lovers threaded the rugged pathway ado^vn
the steep sides of the mountain. Day after day
did they continue their journey, imtil at length,
one sunny noon, tliey knocked for admittance at
the gate of the grim old castk of Wallenstein.
A right merry man was the old lord when he
found his daughter once more restored to his
arms. And nobly did he repay Allan Germand
for his devotion to the lovely Rosamond. On a
clear morning, in the commencement of the
winter, did the fond lather bestow upon our hero
the hand of the sweet maiden whose captivity he
had shared; and loudly did the cymbals clash,
and the trumpets sound, when the announce-
ment was made to all the retainers of the proud
lord, that one of their number had wed the young
mistress of the castle of Wallenstein.
The next year, and Allan Germand set off
with a powerful force to capture tlie tower, de-
fended by the robbers of the league. A fierce
battle ensued, in which Warland de Vintiger lost
his life by the hand of Allan, and the band being
dispersed and scattered, the tower has stood there
ever since, invested with a sort of wild terror to
the peasantry, for they say that the spirit of
Warland still keeps lonely vigils each night in
its chambers, and that his battle cry may oft be
heard ringing over the still waters of the Rliine,
when the moon and the stars have set, and the
mantle of midnight has fallen upon the slumber-
ing earth !
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LINES
Writieji o>i board United Slates Surveying Shij) '■^Ni/mplij'''
in Mobile Bay.
The £un is setting in the full majesty of his glory ! I
am upon the deck of my httle schooner. Before me is a
half hlown magnolia. I play upon my guitar, — these are
my thoughts.
Thus I sit brooding from hour to hour,
Singing the songs that are ever so dear ;
Before mc doth blush the lovehest flower
The sweet south can boast in the May of the year.
Passion so heavenly is often looked over
By being.s who languish in vain to be gay ;
They seek for a bliss they ne'er can discover,
An clysinm on earth that will never decay.
They see no harmony ever in nature,
They bear no music in the wind or the sea,
As gently they blend their wild notes together,
And awfully da;-h against the beach oo their lea.
Each bird that doth build her nest in the green tree,
And mingle her song with the voice of the brook ;
Whose music a-S sweet as the harp of the minstrel,
Is nothing to those who have nature forsook.
Turn, turn, ye vain mortals, to God and his bounty,
Nor look for the vision of bliss here below,
Till your souls are contented with earth's fairest creatures,
To love all her beings, and each thing she doth grow.
Why weep ? arc those tears the emblems of anguish ?
Weep on, for they wash the proud glow from thy cheek,
And tell that the heart is melted to goodness.
They nil! make thee a summer where winter's most bleak.
Jos. J. Cook,
U. S. Nav;/.
SPECULATION ON SHARSPEARE.
There seems to have been a period of Shaks-
pcare's life when his heart was ill at ease, and
ill content with the world or his own conscience ;
the memory of hours misspent, the pang of af-
fection misplaced or unrequited, the experience
of man's worse nature, which, intercourse with
iU-clioscn associates, by choice or circumstance,
peculiarly teaches — these, as they sank down into
the depth of his great mind, seem not onlv to
have inspired into it the conception of Lear and
Timon, but that of one primary character, the
censurer of mankind. The type is first seen in
the philosophic melancholy of Jacques, gazing
with undiminished serenity, and with a gaiety of
fancy, tliough not of manners, on the follies of
the world. It assumes a graver cast in the ex-
iled duke of the same play, and next one ratlier
more severe, in the duke of "Measure for Meas-
ure." In all these, however, it is merely con-
templative philosophy. In " Hamlet," this is
mingled with the impulses of a perturbed heart
under tlie pressure of extraordinary circumstan-
ces; it shines no longer, as in the former char-
acters, with a steady light, but plays in fitful cor-
uscations amidst feigned gaiety and extrava-
gance. In "Lear" it is the flash of sudden in-
spiration across the incongruous imagery of
madness ; in " Timon " it is obscured by the ex-
aggerations of misanthropy. These plays all
belong to nearly the same period; "As you Like
It," being usually referred to 1600, "Hamlet,"
in its altered form, to about 1602, and " Timon"
to the same year, "Measure for Measure" to
160.3, and "Lear" in 1604. In the later plays
of Shakspeare, especially in "Macbeth" and the
" Tempest," much of moral speculation will be
found, but he has never returned to this type of
character. — UaUam's Literature of Europe.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LOVE CONCEALED.
BT KENNETH SINCLAIE.
O, thou wilt never know how fond a love
This hejirt could once have felt for thee ;
Or ever dream how Jove and friendship strove
Through long, loug years for mastery ;
How passion often urged, but pride j-csti-ained,
Or how thj' coldness grieved, yet kindness pained.
How time has soothed the feelings then that were
The torture of my opening life,
But even yet will often fall a tear
O'er wildest hopes and thoughts then rife ;
Where'er, recalled by passing word or tone,
Fond memory mirrors all those visions flown.
Too well I knew that be had won thy heart,
And thou wast but a friend to ms ;
I felt that in thy love I had no part,
I knew how much he worshipped thee ;
Yet often would there rise a gleam of hope
Wherewith but only time and pride could cope.
PKESEnVATIOW OF LIFE IN SEEDS.
The preservation of life in seeds and otiier or-
ganisms, when in a state of passive vitality, is a
good instance of the power to resist the action of
physical agents. Dr. Lindley says, in his "In-
troduction to Botany," 1 have at this moment
three plants of raspberries before me which have
been raised in the garden of the Horticultural
Society, from seeds taken from the stomach of a
man, whose sk^-leton was found thiriy feet below
the surface of the earth, at the bottom of a barrow
which was opened near Dorchester. He had been
buried with some coins of the Emperor Hadrian,
and it is probable the seeds were sixteen or seven-
teen hundred years old. — Ano/ii/mous.
DOCTRINE AND MORALITY.
The true reason that doctrinal sermons arc de-
cried by some of the ministers is, that they afford
no opportunity for them to introduce perhaps
some style or course of reading that they may
have adopted. True scriptural teaching calls
for sound argument and substantial treatises
upon the word, and is a strong test of mental
capacity ; whereas such sermons as are but too
frequently delivered, rest upon miscellaneous
themes, that were more properly-- left for newspa-
per or magazine articles, and are of a school of
composition that a shallow brain may become a
proficient in. This class of preachers should re-
member that the people now-a-days are supposed
to know as much of Demosthenes and Cicero,
the Forum at liome, or of most of any portion
of profane history, ancient or modern, as the
preacher himself; and the less said in the way
of display relating to these stereotyped phrases
and tliemes, the better.
We are forcibly reminded, in this connection,
of the words of a certain English bishop, who
was travelling in this country a few years since,
and who made the remark, that ministers hero
take a text from the Bible and preach about
railroads, astronomy, statuai-y and paintings ;
but in his country they not only select their texts
from the Bible, "but they make its doctrines and
principles the subject of ilieir discourses. Tliat
wise old divine, Jeremy Taylor, found it neces-
sary in his day to chide these fashionable preach-
ers. " They entertain their hearers," said he,
" with gaudy tulips and useless daffodils ; and
not with the bread of life and medicinal plants
growing on the margins of the fountains of sal-
vation."
The true doctrine of the Scriptures is the very
fountaindiead of all morality ; and those who
talk so much about preaching moral sermons,
and avoiding doctrinal ones, should pause and
consider well their own inconsistency. Mr. Bal-
lou's sermons were strictly doctrinal ones, ay,
emphatically so, but they were none the less
moral also. The principles are synonymous, as
we think will be evident to every candid reader.
That was excellent advice given to a pious son,
by Rowland Hill, to preach nothing down but
the devil, and nothing up but Jesus Christ. —
Life ofllosea BaUou.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE TWO HOBIES.
Ur HAKKIET E. BENEDICT,
My home, thou astest ! 'Tis a hidden dwelling,
The eglantine its shadows o'er it throws ;
And the deep music of the fountain, swelling,
Lends mc a joy a poet only knows.
There, woman's voice is heard, and childhood's laughter,
And melody is ringing mid the leaves ;
Or in some nook my cherub "s searching after
The hidden treasures innocence receives.
If, in the world's cold strife my dear ones falter,
Or for a moment hnger and repine,
Faith, hope and love will point them to the altar.
They worshipped at their home. Say, where is thine?
My home? I Icnow not I Angels round me singing,
Bid me approach it in the solemn night ;
And like the lark, at morn, his free way winging,
Come nearer to my Maker in my flight.
Wliere is my home ? Where bloom immortal flowers,
Where fountains fling, in pearls, their silver spray ;
Where atar-crowned angels build eternal bowers.
And truth, and hope, and love, pass not away,
There dwell my loved ones. In the still night calling,
I hear their thrilhng whisper, " Come away ;"
In that bright land, earth's bauds no more enthralling,
My soul shall flourish in immortal clay.
THE NUT31EG.
The true nutmeg, as well as the clove, is a na-
tive of the Sloluccas, or Spice Islands, but prin-
cipally confined to the group called the Islands
of Banda, under the equator, where it bears
blossoms and fruit at all seasons of the year. In
their native country, the trees are almost always
loaded with blossoms and fruit; and the latter is
gathered at three different periods of the year,
viz : in July, November and April. The mace
is there in July, Avhen the nut is most abundant ;
in November, it is superior, but in April, both
the nutmeg and the mace are in the greatest per-
fection, the season then being the driest. The
outer pulpy coat is removed, and afterwards the
mace ; which latter, when fresh, is of a crimson
color and covers the whole nut. The nuts are
then placed over a slow fire, when the shell next
to the mace, and which coats the seed, becomes
brittle, and the seeds, or nutmegs of commerce,
drop out. They are then soaked in sea-water,
and impregnated with lime : a process whicli
answers the double purpote of securing the fruit
from the attack of insects, and of destroying the
vegetating j)roperty. It also prevents the vola-
tilisation of the aroma. The mace is simply
dried in the sun, and then sprinkled with salt
watci', when it is fit for exportation. — Cijclopcdla
'f Knterlainhg Knowledge.
WIT AND IRONY.
To complain of wit and irony, as some do, is
to comphiin of a sword for being sharp. So long
as error and evil passions lift up their heads in
literature, the soldiers of truth must go forth
against them : and seldom will it be practicable
to fulfil the task imposed upon Shylock, and cut
out a noxious opinion, especially where there is
an inflammable habit, without shedding a drop
of blood. — Guesses at I'ruth.
204
GLEASON'S PICTOMAL DRAWIJ^G 110031 COMPANION.
MILITARY PARADE IN NfJW YORK.
The scene which wc tjivo below ifl i\ represen-
tation of a military piinidc in New York. The
artist hiis represented the scene iinmciliately in
front of the Park, Broadway, the fjrcat focus of
bnsinoHS, noise, l)iistIo and activity in " Gotlmm."
This point is immediately in front of the City
Hall, Astor House, American House, Barnum's
Museum, etc., bcinp; the most central business
Soint of the city. The troops are seen marehinj^
own Broadway round the Park by companies,
and the parade shows nearly every rcpimcnt of
the city, each with its private colors, stretching
away up Broadway the entire lenj^thof the Park.
The fountain is (liscovcrcd tossing its cooling jets
into the air, and ihc b;iik ground, where the City
Hall stands, is particniarly excellent and truth-
ful; while the forcgiound presents quite a Lo.i-
don-likc appearance with its mass of humanity,
from the quiet looker-on, pleased with tlie music
and fine appearance of the soldiery, to the noisy
wrchins up to all manner of mischief, and ready
for any demonstration of u|)roarous hilarity, tliat
may create amusement for the crowd.
ANTIOCII AND ITS HOUSES.
Antioch is, beyond dispute, the cheapest place
in the world, as well as one of the healtliiesi ;
and if it were not for the ragged little hoys, who
hoot at every stranger, and throw stones at his
door, annoying you in every possible way, I
should prefer It as a place oi' residence to any
spot I have visited in Kuropc, Asia, Africa, or
America. My house was of perfectly new con-
struction, well planted, and well situated, and
proof against water as well as wind. I had four
rooms: a sitting-room, a dining-room, a bed-
room, and a dressing-room. I had a walled en-
closure of about eighty feet square, wlierc roses
and geraniums vied in beauty with jessamines
and lilies. There was also a poultry-yard, a
pigcon-iiouse, stables for three horses, a storc-
liouse, a kitchen, and a servants' room. I had in
the garden a grape-vine (muscatel), a pomcgran-
atc-tree, a peach-tree, a plum-tree, an apricot,
and a China quince ; and, in addition to all
these, a fountain perpetually jetting up water,
and a well, and a bathing-room. For all this
accommodation I paid three hundred and fifty
piastrcH — about three pounds sterling; and this
was a Iiiglier rent than would be paid by any na-
tive. Of course, the house was unfurnished ; but
furniture in the East is seldom on a grand scale;
a divan, half a dozen chairs, a bedstead, a n)at-
trcss, a looking-ixlass, a tabic or two, and half a
dozen pipes and nargliilies, arc all one requires.
Servants cost about tlirce pounds a head per an-
num. Seven and a half pounds of good mutton
may be had for one shilling; fowls, and fat ones,
too, two-jtcncc each. Fish is sold by the weight;
thirteen rotolos for a beshlik, or about seventy
pounds' weight for one shilling. Eels, the best
flavored in the world, one and a halfpence each.
As for vegetables, whether cabbages, lettuces,
asparagus, celery, water-cresses, parsley, beans,
peas, radishes, turnips, carrots, oauHflowers, and
onions, a pennywortli would last a man a week.
Fruit is sold at the same rates; and grapes cost
about five shillings the horse load. Gameisalso
abundant. Dried fruits and nuts can be obtained
in winter. In fact, living as well as one could
wish, I found it impossible — house-rent, servants,
horses, board, washing, and wine included — lo
exceed tlio expenditure of forty pounds per an-
num. Under these circumstances, it may appear
marvellous that many Europeans, possessed of
limited means, have not made Antioch their tem-
porary home ; but every question has two sides,
and everything its pros and cons. The cons in
this instance arc the barbarous character of the
people among whom you live ; the perpetual lia-
bility of becoming at one instant's warning the
victim of some fanatical emeute ; the small hopes
you have of redress for the grossest insults offer-
ed ; the continual intrigues entered into by the
Ayans to disturb your peat-e and comfort; the
nameless little annoyances that beset you, the
absence of many of the luxuries enjoyed in Eu-
rope; the want of society and hooks; and the
total absence of all places of worship, which gra-
dually creates in the mind a morbid iniliffci'ence
to religion, and which feeling fref|uently degene-
rates into absolute infidelity. It is better to
choose with David in such a case, and say ; " I
would rather be a door-keeper in the house of
the Lord than to dwell in the tents of iniquity." —
Nealcs Eujid Years in Syria.
GRAND REVIEW OF TROOPS IN THE PARK, NEW YORK.
CONSTANTINOPLE.
The successors of the Caliph Omar are forget-
ting that famous aphorism ef their race which
described all literature not found in the Koran as
superfluous. Of late years, the Padisha of the
Moslem world has founded schools — imported
types and presses — and set up newspapers in the
dominions over which his sway extends. What
is still more marvellous, is the fact that he is
BOW beginning to acknowledge himself in some
sort amenable to the organs of public opinion in
Europe. AVe have been both amused and inter-
ested by an otTicial article in the Journal de Con-
stantinople, on the statements — said to be false —
of certain German papers in reference to the dis-
pute between the Turks and the Montenegrins,
and the conduct of a new Omar Pasha, who is
now illustrating the military virtues of his peo-
ple on the shores of the Adriatic. Not many
years ago the Sultan would not recognize the
Christian powers ; and now the Turks see the
wisdom of correcting the mistakes of obscure
German writers. How rapid the strides of civil-
ization on the Bosphorus ! Prince Sehwarzen-
berg slights the ministers of Turkey and Ameri-
ca— as, in Austrian opinion, the two liberal
nations! — at his banquet on the downfall of Lord
Palmcrston. The populace of London, Bir-
mingham and Manchester, entwine the colors of
Turkey with those of England and the United
States. How strange a companionship, and how
suggestive! Who will now be able to say tliat
Constantinople is behind Paris or Vienna in real
civilization'? In the first, the ruling power ad-
mits the legitimate right of public opinion, while
in France it is coerced, and in Austria contemned.
— London Athenamm.
< ^■<» >
NIGHT IN ALEXANDRIA.
As tbrouLrh suffocating heat, irritation from
musquito bites, and the prevalence of fleas, I
sleep almost none, I have had opjjortunities of
making observations, not exclusively astronomi-
cal, during the watches of the night; and may
here relate my experience of the night side of
Alexandria. From ten till twelve, the ear is as-
sailed with barking, howling, yelling of dogs,
with a large intermixture of caterwauling; from
twelve till two, with serenading of all sorts, har-
monious and otherwise, with a spice of the cats
and dogs between hands ; from two till four,
cock-crowing incessant — not an interval of rest
to the ear, but crow, crow, crow, — shrill, harsh,
far, near, young, old, unabated crowing; from
four till six, donkeys braying, camels lowing,
men shouting and cursing, a very Babel of
sounds, that it is impossible to convey by any
language, and altogether forming the most dis-
agreeable variety of unpleasant associations in-
flicted on man. To one accustomed to the order
and quiet of really civilized life, it is really quite
intolerable, and difficult to endure with any pa-
tience.— Visit to Alexandria.
TKE CANDLE-TREE.
This tree is confined to the valley of the Cha-
gres, where it forms entire forests. In entering
them, a person might almost fancy himself
transported into a chandler's shop. From all
the stems and lower branches hang long cylin-
drical fruits, of a yellow wax color, so much re-
sembling a candle as to have given rise to the
popular appellation. The fruit is generally from
two to three, but not unfrequently four feet long,
and an inch in diameter. The tree itself is about
twenty-four feet high, with opposite trifoliated
leaves and large white blossoms, which appear
throughout the year, but are in greatest abun-
dance during the rainy season. The Palo de
Velas belongs to the natural order Crescentracem,
and is a Parmentiera, of which genus, hitherto,
only one species, the P. edulis, De Cand., was
known to exist. The fruit of the latter, called
Qiianhscilote, is eaten by the Mexicans ; while
that of the former serves for food to numerous
herds of cattle. Bullocks, especially, if fed with
the fruit of this tree, Guinea-grass, and BaiaiiUa,
(Iponicfa brachi/poda, Benth.,) soon get fat. It is
generally admitted, however, that the meat par-
takes in some degree of tlie peculiar, apple-like
smell of the fruit ; but this is by no means dis-
agreeable, and easily prevented, if, for a few
days previous to the killing of the animal, the
food is changed. The tree produces its princi-
pal harvest during the dry season, when all the
iierbaceous vegetation is burned up ; and on that
account its cultivation in tropical countries is
especially to be recommended ; a few acres of it
would effectually prevent that want of fodder
which is always most severely felt after the peri
odical rains have eased. — Hooker's Journal nj
Botanij.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWINCr UOOM COMPANION.
205
rREDEEICK GLEASON, Pkoprietoe.
MATURIN M. EALLOtr, Editor.
CONTEJXTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER,
" The Red Wig," a very humorous sketch, by the inim-
itable Old -On.
" The Old Alchemist," a story of the Elizabethean peri-
od, by Syltanus Cobb, Jr.
" AshenpuUet,'' an original translation fix)m the Ger-
man, by T. BuLFiNCH.
"■Travels in Palestine," No. VI, describing Jerusalem,
by Rev. F. W. Uollasd.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. TV, relative to Constan-
tinople, by Dr. Jerome T. C. Smitb.
" Autognphs and Autography," So. V, by William Ed-
ward Knowles, prepenting the signatures of Millard Fill-
more. Daniel Webster, J.J. Crittenden, C. U. Conrad, H.
W. Herbert, Prof. Henry, J. II. lugraham and Washing-
ton Irving.
" The Sovereign of the Sea," an acrostic, by Georoe S.
Ratmosd.
" Wilt thou thy Friend forget?" verses, by Miss Mart
N. Dearborn.
'MVhere are those Flowers that bloomed in June?"
verses, by C- G. DuxN.
" A Madrigal to Love," a poem, by CnA's H. Steivart.
" Che Smile of one we Love," hnes, by A^ME Mott.
"Joy amid Sorrow," verses, by Calmus Hortesude.
" Life," a poem, by John D. Joqnsox, M. D.
'• One short Year," lines, by D. Haedv, Jr.
" An Acrostic," by Joseph H. Butler.
" Keligion," verses, by Mrs. M. W, Curtis.
*• Lines to the Wind," by E. Curtiss Hine, U. S. N.
ILLirSTEATIONS.
A fine maritime picture, representing a Fishing Yacht
Party, in Boston harbor, outward bound, doubtless des-
tined to see the sea serpent. By our arti-st. .Mr. Waud.
A picture of the Nursery Yacht, a new and ingenious
article of domestic use, throwing cradles and baby jump-
ers far in the shade.
A picture, giving a fine view of a Russian summer resi-
dence, in Tamboy. the Home of the Itara Fiunily, about
1150 versts from St. Petersburg. Crowded out last week.
A superior copy of the maguificent and cnstlv picture
known as the Assumption of the Virgin, bv MurJIln, which
lately sold at the Louvre, Paris, for 536,000 francs, about
i23,400, or about S117,000.
A series of excellent Old Colony views in the town of
Plymouth, Mass.. all by our artist, Mr. MaUory.
First, a view of the Town of Plymouth, taken from the
Gothic Burying- Ground.
Second, an admirable and accurate view of Pilgrim
Hall, in Plymouth.
Third, an exact copy of Sartrent's painting, in Pilgrim
Hall, of the Landing of the Pilgrims.
Fourth, a view of the far-famed historical Plymouth
Rock, at Plymouth.
A picture, representing Donna Pctra Camara, principal
dancer of the grand theatre, at Madrid, The rival of the
famous Cerito.
An admirable picture, by our arti.st, Mr. Manning^ il-
lustniting CoD.stantinople, Seraglio Point, as described in
the series of articles on Turkey and the Turks, written for
u-s by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
Also a picture by our artist, Mr. Manning, representing
the Dancers that frequent the Turkish Cafes, in illustra-
tion of Dr. Smith's article to appear in the same number.
A fine view of Youle's Shot Tower, on the East River,
New York, by our artist, Mr. Wade.
Stimpson's Peize Pen. — Mr. Stimpson has
Bent us a sample of his prize pen. It is called
the Ionic Gold Pen, and is made with a protec-
tive handle, of an ingenious and useful style.
The pen itself runs glibly over the paper as we
write this paragraph, and richly deserves the
high encomiums of praise lavished upon it. It
is for sale at Harris L Stanwood's jewelry store,
Washington Street.
SPLINTEES.
Miss Julia Dean seems to be a great fa-
vorite with the New Yorkers.
.... The Collins line of steamers have thus
far crossed the Atlantic one hundred times.
The cheaper kind of so called " French
kids " are, in reality, rat-skin gloves.
Think well of the present low rates of
postage, 26 cents a year ! and then subscribe.
.... Richard Walkley is under sentence of
death, at Springfield, Mass.
Thackeray,authorof" Vanity Fair,"etc.,
is engaged to lecture in New York this winter,
.... Gen. Scott has received from govern-
ment over S7000 per annum for 40 years.
.... At last foreign dates American securities
were in constant and increasing demand.
.... Two Ure mice were recently sent through
the U. S. mail from Billerica to Lowell.
The Haytiens have been visited with a
very severe earthquake, lately.
.... Dempster, the favorite ballad singer and
accomplished vocalist, is in Boston.
On the south side of Nantucket, 1000
sharks have been taken in the past two months.
The amount of bullion now in the Bank
of England is over £21,000,000. Immense.
PROFESSOR AXDERSOIV.
It is now a fully ascertained fact, that no pub-
lic performer, on this continent or in Europe,
has attained the name and fame of the world-
renowned " Wizard of the North." Twenty
years have elapsed since the subject of our illus-
tration made his public debut as a professor of
tlie " Mystic Art." He is a Scotchman by birth.
Having passed through an ordeal of several
years, stmggling to raise his profession from
what it formerly was, viz., mere sleight-of-hand,
he has, by his surprising knowledge, placed it as
one of the most fashionable amusements, and at
the same time, one of the most wonderful.
The wizard, having passed through the whole
of the provincial cities of Great Britain and Ire-
land, with great success, made his first appear-
ance in London, on the Sth February, 1840.
The furore which he then created, continued for
three years, during which period he was honored
by the patronage of Her Majesty, Queen Victo-
ria, and was summoned by royal special com-
mand to Buckingham Palace. The Queen and
Prince Albert never having witnessed an enter-
tainment of magic, got up on the scale of magni-
ficence produced by the wizard, in her own pa-
lace, her majesty and the prince were astonished,
as were also tlie whole court. So much was her
majesty deliglitcd with the performances, that,
after the entertainment, she personally presented
the professor with a magnificent diamond ring,
which we see sparkling on his finger. If the
wizard was popular before with the Londoners,
wliat was the amount of his popularity after the
high encomiums passed upon him by the queen
and prince ! The diamond present was quite
sufficient for the Londoners. The stream of
wonder-seekers was increased lOOO per cent., and
continued unabated for years. The wizard in
London was a household word ; his wonders
were witnessed by at least one-third of the popu-
lation of London ; more particularly by the
scientific, the learned and elite of the great me-
tropolis. The wizard now makes a continental
tour of three years, during which, the same suc-
cess attends his performances. The professor,
coming with a diploma from her majesty of Eng-
land, found no difEf ulty in entering the palaces
of all the continental monarcbs, especially those
of Nicholas of Russia, Oscar of Sweden, William
of Prussia, Ernest of Hanover, Christian of Den-
mark, and the young Emperor of Austria. In
their palaces lias he caused the " liquid stream "
to flow ; these monarchs have all drunk from the
wizard's bottle, as have a large portion of their
subjects, in all more than five millions.
Who is there in this country who has not heard
of Anderson, the great Wizard of the North, and
his bottle? We have watched his progress since
his arrival in the Atlantic last year; lie has visit-
td our principal cities with the most extraordi-
nary success ; we understand that upwards of
half a million of American citizens have drunk
from his bottle; we also have the records of his
feeding thousands of the poor, and giving such
sums as seventeen hundred dollars to charitable
purposes. Such a man is the wizard. Does he
not merit the patronage of the American public ?
We were delighted with his performances ;
they are so different from anything of the kiLd
we have ever before witnessed. The parapher-
nalia and apparatus are of the most costly mate-
rials. The experiments are new, and of a na-
ture so mysterious as to baffle the imagination to
account for (by natural causes) the seemingly
superhuman wonders performed. The view on
our first page gives the wizard in the bottle scene.
" The Red Retenger : or. The Pirate King
of the Hortdas." — This romance of the Gulf and
its islands, we have been obliged to re-prlnt, in
order to meet the constant demand. It is one of
Ned Buntline's best stories, and we can now sup-
ply all orders. It is also for sale at all of the
periodical depots.
The Fishert. — Fifty new and splendid ves-
sels have this year been added to the fishing fleet
owned in Gloucester, costing in the aggregate
two hundred thousand dollars.
The Caloric Ship. — We look forward with
much interest to the testing of this invention.
The ship measures 2400 tons !
IVLiCKEREL. — Fine large mackerel are now
caught in great numbers off the bridges and
wharves of Boston.
THE REGATTA AT HULL.
We had on Saturday, Sept. 4th, the pleasure
of attending this regatta, a fine view of which
is given on page 208. The day was singu-
larly fine — scarcely a breath of air was stirring ;
and though this was not exactly what might be
required to test the racing qualifications of a
good yacht, it undoubtedly gave the more pleas-
ure to the numerous spectators, amongst whom
we recognized many ladies from Boston and its
vicinity. Tiie first race, of which we give an il-
lustration taken at its commencement, took place
outside of Point Alderton, eastward round Mi-
not's Rock light ship and back. The wind,
which had been in the morning from the south-
west, had shifted to the east. It still continued,
however, so light, that the boats scarcely more
than crept through the water. However, the
race — if it is so to be called — took place, although
it was late in the day that it terminated, and that
the awards could be made — the last boat return-
ing only at nine minutes to six. The first prize,
which was a silver pitcher, was awarded to the
W. S. Thatcher, of South Boston ; the Edtard
Eddy, of Salem, and the Whisper, of East Bos-
ton, taking the second and third. In the course
of the afternoon, a capital rowing match was
made — five boats being entered for the honor of
bearing off the banner. The Gen. Sarsfeld was
undoubtedly the finest boat in the match ; but
its fall complement being twelve hands, and
having only ten, as well as to make an allowance
of two minutes in the whole race, did not carry
off the prize, which was awarded to the T. F.
Meagher, a cunning-looking craft, but scarcely to
be compared — in our eyes, at least — with the
Gen. Sar.-tjield in its build and qualifications as a
racing boat. After this came ofi" the second race
for yachts of ten tons and under. This was
sailed from the harbor of Hull due ca?t to Skull
Head and back, the BansJiee, of South Boston,
taking the first prize, and the Odd Fellow, of
Hull, the second, with scarcely two minutes'
difference between them, while ttie Dolphin, of
Hingham, ran in for the third, and bore it away
close at their heels. Not a doubt can exist but
that the light wind was a most unfavorable one
for testing the real qualities of the yachts, though
we doubt not but that the fine weather and
sparkling light on every side were but the more
keenly enjoyable by the hundreds whom the race
had tempted down to Hull and its neighborhood.
Providence Marine Artillerv. — The fol-
lowing is a correct list of the officers ottacbed to
this corps, lately in this city : Joseph P. Balch,
Colonel ; Charles T. Robins, Lieut. Colonel ;
George L. Andrews, Major; Wm. Sprague, 2d,
Captain; Isaac Brown, Jr., 1st Lieut.; Henry
Brastow, 2d Lieut.; Isaac Bond, Quartermaster;
Lyman B. Frieze, Commissary; Nathaniel Mil-
ler, M. D., Surgeon ; Thomas S. Anthony,
Paymaster.
At Home- — The famous Batemen Children
are now performing in New York city.
Dr. Cummings's Tooth Wash .and Dentifrtce. — These
are decidedly the best articles for purifying the breatii,
cleansing and preserving the teeth and gums, that have
ever been otTered to the public. Dr. Cuniniings, 23 'Fre-
mont Row, being an eminent practical dentist, and baTing
given mucli thought and study to this imporbint subject —
thf preservation of the teeth — has prepared a dentifrice,
composed of the most choice and costly ingredients, which
received the highest premium at the late Mechanica' Fairs
in Boston and Lowell. — Daily Evening TravtUer.
English Appreciation. — We see by our
English exclianges that Eppes Sargent's new
Speaker is receiving much attention in London,
and is highly commended by the press as being
a book suitable for general introduction into
schools.
< ^a^ »
A Luminous Tower. — The Trustees of Mt.
Auburn are about to erect a tower sixty-two feet
in height on the top of the highest hill in Mt.
Auburn, which will enable visitors to view the
beautiful scenery of the suiTounding country.
« •mmmi t
In Town. — Major J. H. Barrett, having re-
turned to this city, after a lengthened sojourn in
Washington, called on us the other day. He
looks hale and hearty, and has the same honest
grip for his friends.
Visitors. — Our extensive business establish-
ment is visited by hundreds of strangers weekly,
doubtless some of them are our subscribers,
others are not. All, however, are welcome.
Wanted. — A local agent for our general busi-
ness in New Orleans. Also an active travelling
agent for the Southern States ; also one for the
New England States.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Miner, Mr. Augustus Welling-
ton, of Lexington, to Miss Sarah Biabel.
By Rev. Mr. Childs, Mr. George W. Lowther to Miss Sa-
rah J. F, Logan.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. James C. Hooper to Miss Me-
bitable P. .Tosephs.
By Rev. Mr. Uowe, Mr. Westbrook Dean to Miss Louisa
Blackmore.
By William Palfrey, Esq., Mr. Ja's W. Holley, of Barns-
table, to MLas Susan \V. Nickerson, of Yarmouth.
At Charlestown.by Kev. Mr Whittemore, of Cambridge,
Mr. Iea,ic P. '£. Lldmands to Mi.«s Hannah Maria Rice.
At Audover, by Rev. Mr. Brown, Mr. .Tabez L. Burrill,
of Oberlin, OUio, to Mi.'is Lydia Callahan.
At Salem, by Rev. Dr. Thompson, Mr. Edwin R. Hill to
Miss Abby E. li. Kinsley.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Pike, Mr. Stephen Bayley
to Mi-*s Jane Smith.
At Ho listou, by Rev. Mr. Tucker, Rev. Geo. I. Steams,
of Windham. Ct., to Miss A. D. Jones, of Hudson, Mich.
At Belfa.>t, Me., by Rev. Mr. Cutter, Mr. James Tucker,
of .Stoughton, Ms., to Mrs Ann Avery.
At North Whitefield, Me., by Hon. Jasou Carlton, Mr .
Henry Farley, of Salem, Ms,, to Miss Mary E. Newell.
At Piovidencc, It. I., by Kev. Dr. Hedge, Mr. Caleb Sea-
gi-ave to Miss Helen D. Bucklin.
At North Coventry, Ct , by Kev. Mr Calhoun, Mr. Cha's
Heath, of New York, to Miss June C. Gould.
At New York, by Rev. Mr. MXaiTon, Mr. Michael J.
McDermott to Miss Ehza Kildruff.
At Washington, D, C, by Rev. Mr. Cushman, Mr. Cha's
E. White to Miss Helen A.'Lovtll, both of Boston^ Ms.
Back Numbers. — We can supply all the
back numbers of the Pictorial.
In this city, Mr. .Toel H. Fclton, 23; Mrs. Mary W. Fen-
no, 32; Mr. Ephraim Hall, 76; Miss Leviuia Sweet, 55;
Mr. James Clark, Jr., 3y; Mrs. Ann Parker, 72; Mbs Ann
Ray, (j2; Mr. Jos. Adams, 78; Miss Ellen H. Bailey, 6.5-
At Roxbury, Mr. James L. Harrington, 37.
At Charlestown, Mr. Benjamin W. Guild. 28.
At Somerville, Miss Mary Abby Han.scom, 25.
At Dorchester, Mr. John H. Welch, 3S.
At Milton, Mrs. Mary Ann Pendergast, 25.
At Medford, Mrs. Electa Freeman, 67.
At N. Andover, Mrs. Hannah Burchmore, of Salem, 70.
At Dcdham. Mr. Jeremiah F. Jtichards, 53.
At Newton, Miss Margaret A. Goddard, 2tJ.
At Bntintree, Miss Dorcas F. AVild, 19.
At Salem, Mrs. Ellen Delory, 65.
At Newburyport, Mrs. Sarah Stover, 74.
At Ease iVe_>moutt., Mrs. Mary Loveil Bates. 33.
At Duxbury, Mr. Ezra Weston, of Boston, 43.
At Medwaj , Mrs. Lucy Lovering. 80.
At Warehiim, Mr. Perez E. Howjurd, of Boston, 31.
At Rockport, Mrs. Sally Gott, 65.
At New Bedford, Mrs Mary P. Allen, 27.
At Worcester, Mrs. Nancy Woard S.LhHbury, 32.
At Sudbury, Mrs. Mary Jane Hannibal, 20.
At Bath, Me., Mr. George C. Brown, 42.
At Concord, N. H., Mr. John P. Gass, 59.
At Gosben, S. H., Mr. Abel Blood, 95.
At Wakefield, N. d., Charles R. Lyford, 10.
At Providence, R. I.. Mr. Thomas Fcnner, 82.
At i\ew York, Stephen Holt, Esq., 71.
At Chicago, 111., J. F. White, Esq.. editor of tbfl TrihnpR.
— AND — ■
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
jDrrtunitij-HiXMn ([Ioin:)5rtin0tt<
A Jiecord of the heautifid and tisefid in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most clegint
and available form, a ivccldy literary melange of nr.table
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEHICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
■well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artist.1, of
notiible objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city m the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal sliips and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both mate and fonialc.
Sketches of beautiful scenerj', taken from life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it. — pre-
6enting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it allords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil iu its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
Combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOLUME.
OR, Qi 00 PER ANN'UM.
IXVAKIAIlir IX ADVANCE.
Each six montlis completes a volume, commencing on
the Ci/it of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen p.iges each.
Q:^ One copy of the Flag of our IJxion, and one copy
of the Pictorial Dhawisg-Koom Compaxion, one year,
for £;6 00.
[T/" 'i'he Pictorial Drawtxg-Room Compaxiox may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ten ccnls per single copy
Published every Saturday, bv
F. GLEASON, Bostox, Mas3.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New Tork.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS. TAYLOR & Co,, 111 Baltimore St., Baltimore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 10 West 3d Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. 4th and Chesnut, St. Louifi.
[C7° Suhscriptions rerdvid al either of the above places
206
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Wrlttun for Gleaaoa's Plctorlul.]
TO hYDlA.
BY CAIIOLINE A. IIAYDEN.
I remember thoe In diiys ROne by, ft gay and glrllflh tiling,
Miido of wfinn, impulwlvo thougbt, lifc'H bright hiiiigiiiiDjifl ;
Tlio love-liKht epiirldea in thliie oye, thy Htoj) wiin light und frc«,
And if a ahadow crossed tliy path, joy bade thu phantom lleo.
Rut little time biw piiflsod away, and I bohold tboo now,
Tho mmo bright Hinilo of Iiuppin«8fl iy mantlinff on thy brow,
Thy laufth is jus-t at* miihiciil, tliy stop an liglit and frcu,
Tho caroH wliich wedded life luifluoies hang lightly over theo ;
A happy wife and mother, life baa not a Bingli' joy,
Dut id ceatrotl in tho spot which holds thy lovoly girl and boy.
In the future dim before thee? — 0, give it not a thought,
Too happy if the present with unclouded bli«B bo fraught ;
IJo the sun.'fbiuo which with cheering ray shall gladden that one heart,
AVhoso ti-ueat earthly happiness thou canst so well impart ;
In thy calm, domestic haven be the il.\ed and guiding star,
Ity its truth and lovo attracting, whilo it tiheds its beams afar.
[Written for G-leaaon's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No." V.
BY REV. F. \V, HOLLAND.
SAMARIA.
Mount Tabor, about two hours from Nazareth, rises most
beautifully in a truncated cone from the richest of valleys, to the
height of a thousand feet, atfording a grand view of Hermon,the
Lake of Galilee, Carmcl, and the Mediterranean — one of the finest
prospects in the world. The top of the hill, a mile in circumfer-
ence, contains some remains of the Crusaders' fortifications, and
two small chapels, on ditierent sides, in whicli the Greek or Latin
fi'iars annually celebrate the transfiguration, each of them being,
to one sect or the other, the very scene of that wondciful manifes-
tation. In the Old Testament, Tabor is frequently named with
deserved admiration, but never in the New — an omission only to
be explained by the fact that the evangelical writers were not
poets like the prophets, and that they felt moved to tell as simply
and briefly as possible of the Divine life which was inspiring their
own lives. From Tabor the Kishon takes its rise, and, through
the rainy months, rolls quite a stream into the Mediterranean,
swelled by many a mountain-torrent, which in the summer wholly
cease. From Nazareth to Jenin the road leads across the rich
lowlands where the waters divide to run east or west, over Gilboa
and through Endor, into the celebrated battle-plain of Esdraelon,
to the worst-behaved, most thievish and filthy place in all Syria,
Jenin, as some suppose the royal residence of Jezebel. Here,
after being stoned a little by the Moslem boys, we obtained shel-
ter in an empty barber's shop, and made purchase of a single
fowl — all tliat Ahab's city would yield — for dinner ; but what with
the smoke of the brush, tlie liveliness of tlie patriarchal fleas, and
the melancholy drizzle of the rain, Samaritan housekeeping did
not prove to be at all bewitching. So, liy daylight the next morn-
ing we despised the lulling murmur of the brooklet near, and
dared the rain, which poured down heartily for a while, thankful
lo turn our backs upon the moss-grown, half-ruined houses, the
rude dishonesty of the inhabitants, the well earnt ill fame of the
place, and its abominably dirty streets. On our return — having
been denied accommodation at a mountain village, where Dr.
Robinson stated there were nothing but mins, but where we found
some very neat houses — Sanur, one of a very few Greek Chris-
tians, took us in at Jenin ; and so exhausted were we after a
horseback journey of fifteen hours, that the struggle of one ot our
horses to lie down on the same platform where we laid hardly
disturbed us at all.
No language can paint the uncertainty of every kind which at-
tends a pilgrimage in Palestine. The impassable character of the
roads in winter, which is the only healthy season for the stranger,
the dangerous depth of many of the streams, the utter stupidity
of most of the natives, the dreary loncsomeness even of the cara-
van paths, the length and violence of the storms, try one's courage
to the uttermost. Shortly after our flight from Jenin, we pressed
on past a loaded train of more than a hundred camels, and in
crossing part of the rich valley of Jezrccl, our baggage horses
floundered and sank in ; and it was with the utmost difficulty that
we extricated the naked beasts plastered over with black mud,
and then picked out our goods piece by piece from the treacher-
ous bog. Meanwhile, we had the vexation of seeing the long
caravan wind round us in single file, smiling at the ludicrous fig-
ure we made, and exulting that we must squeeze by their unac-
commodating beasts upon another narrow pass of the mountain.
Not one of them expressed any sympathy, not one of them stirred
a foot, or raised a band even for our assistance. So is it every-
where and always. Constant oppression h.\s hardened the Syrian
into selfishness ; the extortion of Pashas and the spoliation of
Bedouins have destroyed the last trace of human feeling. Had
we been robbed and half murdered, they would have gone by on
the other side, as coolly as the Levite and the priest passed the
man who had fallen among thieves in the still dangerous pass
from Jericlio to Jerusalem. One of the best things about our own
countrymen — especially where help is most important among the
new settlements at the West — is, that they are always ready to
assist a stranger in trouble. Under the smile of free institutions,
human nature unfolds itself thus generously in pity for the suffer-
ing and succor for the distressed, in guiding the lost wanderer
and Hlicltering liic homeless orphan. Such a thing as gratitude,
we never saw in Syria. On one occasion, a Turkish tax collector
put himself into our party for protection, ate of our meals and
sliiu-ed our concli ; and when he delivered us from his dangerous
society it was in the same hang-dog style that he Joined us, with-
out any expression of interest in our welfare, or concern for our
danger.
Tho vast and fertile plain of Esdraelon— for three thousand
years the battle-field of Assyrian and Perhian, Gentile and Jew,
Crusader and Saiacen, Egyptian and European, Turk and Arab
— a noble hut half-cultivated field, ends before one arrives at tlie
flourishing and important city of Sychar, now called Narbloos
(Nubulus). As some books say there is no town near the well of
Jacob, we were rather surprised to find one so extended, populous
and flourishing as this, extending along the base of Mount Geri-
zim, overhanging the most fertile valley In i'alcsline, full of gar-
dens and orchards, flowing everywhere with lively little streants
that make a water-course of many of the streets and roads. The
ten thousand people here, nearly all Turks, preserve their old
scorn of Christians, and were better dressed and more busily em-
ployed than at any other Mussulman city. Every part of the
place was curious. Many of the buildings were mere limestone
caverns j the gloomy, slippery streets were frequently arched with
stone; the bazaars were remarkably well-supplied, and the cool
air made by tiie mountain-rills, as they flowed between the nar-
row sidewalks, made quite a sootiiing impression on the heated
traveller.
Gerizim, the Mount of Blessing, is commonly said to be distin-
guished from Ebal on the opposite side of the valley by its fertil-
ity ; but this is only one of many proofs that travellers in the
Holy Land see what they want to see, what they have all their
lives imagined, and perhaps frequently described to others. Tlie
signs of grape culture yet remaining on Gerizim, show that this
holy hill has not always been able to reflect the barrenness of the
Mount of Cursing, as from a polished mirror.
As soon as possible, we made our way to the little synagogue
of the Samaritans; around which a poor, decreasing, isolated,
hopeless remnant of this strange place live herded together. For
hundreds of years they were not supposed to be in existence.
Their discovery, like that of Gerasa and of Pompeii, was bringing
tlie dead to life. The waves of three tliousand years have washed
over them, the Jews have persecuted, the Mussulmcn robbed, the
Crusaders hired, the later Christians bribed — and still a handful
remains in wonderful attestation of the Gospel history, worship-
ping as of old upon Mount Gerizim with the annual sacrifice of
the paschal lamb, reading the law of Moses and rejecting the later
books, having no dealings of a friendly kind with Jew or Gentile.
Their rabbi, who cannot be far from one hundred years old, in-
terested us exceedingly, and the people seemed even now to de-
serve the favor with which they were noticed by the great Teacher
— far more than the head dress, marking them out from their
Moslem neighbors, was their general look of kindness and purity.
The old gentleman has had some stories palmed ofl' upon him
about Samaritan families at Genoa and Paris. He has been ac-
customed to ask strangers if they knew of no otliers like himself;
and some exceedingly obliging person has invented the tale of
disciples abroad, with which the venerable patriarch consoles
himself and amuses his guests. There are but a hundred of the
sect remaining together at present, and hardly a man of them
anywhere else, so that they are doomed to disappear in the course
of years. We took off our shoes, as every one is obliged to do,
as we entered their arched, stone synagogue— a plain upper
chamber, with a recess for the rolls of Scripture — the most primi-
tive looking place in the world. Here is a copy of the Penta-
teuch, said to be thirty-five hundred years old, which you are
shown after you have sufficiently admired a much more modem
one. I never touched any other manuscript with such reverence,
not only from the uncounterfeited antiquity of the worn vellum
and the affection manifested to it by all around me, but because of
the regard which had been paid to it by so many generations, each
of whom had looked up to it as a present from God. They have
a number of other books, commentaries, etc., and the business of
the priest has been to make copies. I suspect, too, that they sus-
tain a school of their own, and have morning and evening service
together in their sanctuary.
Jacob's Well is a little south of the town, and bears its ancient
name with Mussulman, Samaritan, Jew and Christian. It is still
" very deep," but contained no water, though I thought its bottom
was muddy. The top was a triangular hole upon the surface of
the rock, but beneath this mouth there is a large vaulted chamber,
and then about a hundred feet of depth. The position of the
well, as well as uniform tradition and the universal consent of all
who have visited the spot, mark this as the scene of the Saviour's
annunciation of his Messiahship to the woman of Samaria. Not
far distant is the dome-covered tomb of a Moslem saint, where the
Shechcm ladies resort to gossip and pray. And a few miles ofl"
along the valley were visible Joseph's tomb, and the poor ruins
of ancient Samaria, now the little village Sebustieh.
For a wonder, there was excellent lodging at Sychar furnished
by a Greek merchant in an uj^per chamber appropriated for the
purpose, but evidently wanted only on rare occasions. It was
some lime before the key could be found, then the room had to
be aired, provisions purchased and servants procured. But with-
out intending any such coincidence — having no time to spare
for such formal preparations — when we returned, we threw our-
selves down on the grass in sight of Jacob's well, and sent our
men into tho city to "buy bread," while we chatted about our
thankfulness at having seen so much, with so little suficring,
labor or peril.
It ho,i been beautifully said, that "the veil which covers the
face of futurity is woven by the hand of mercy."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AUTOCItAPIlS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED HTOIVIDUAIS.
Ko. IV.
BY WM. EDWAnD KNOWLEB.
LosGi-ELLOw is certainly entitled to the first place among the
American poets, though critics have assigned the honor to Bry-
ant. His talents aie of the finest order, and his compositions are
distinguished by an exquisite finisli, oquulicd by no living author.
Laying aside all affectation, he would produce still greater efforts.
He writes much less tlmn many others, but what he does .do, is
done well. His handwriting is free and easy, possessing much
grace and beauty, besides being rather picturesque.
Bryant is a strange genius. His handwriting is notliing at
all. Indeed, any sclioolboj' would write far more of a marlied
liiind. Yet Mr. Bryant is at tlie head of American literature, and
ean write " thoughts that breathe, in words that burn."
Hon. S. G. GooDKiCH is our present Consul at Paris. He is
well known as the author of many juvenile books, and as the ver-
itable Peter Parley. Ilis handwriting is good, distinet, and shows
the author to be metliodical and careful, rather than swift of
thought, or brilliant in style. Mr. Goodrieh is in this eountry
relative to some literary business.
'^KoMoi^i,
''b'
*-(2^j
Mis, Stephens is by no means justly estimated as it regards
her poetical talents ; many of her poems are fully equal to the late
Mrs. Osgood's. The imagery is most brilliant, and her versifica-
tion liquid and beautiful. Tlie handwriting is rather scrawly, and
indicates impulsiveness and want of method, which we believe Is
characteristic of this lady.
A. C. HoBBs has, of late, become quite a noted man by
reason of liis mechanical genius, having astounded John Bull liy
picking his most complicated locks with ease, while he presented
a lock in turn that no one can pick. The hand is bold and manly,
and conveys the idea of firmness and determination of purpose.
"Victor Hugo. This distinguished Erench politician has all
the eloquence of .T-iraartine, without liis effeminate nature. The
signature convc^Vt strong expression of the man. It is bold,
dashing, decided and confident. Such, too, is Victor Hugo, the
author of "Napoleon the Little," and the thorn in the side of the
French President.
Jenny Lind's signature puzzles us. We are somewhat at a
loss to analyze its bold characteristics, so contrary to the idea we
have formed of the queen of song through her jiublic perform-
ances and her public character. And yet we are told that it is
like her private character, very decided and prompt, whole-souled
and heavy, or else not at all.
Otto Goldschmidt. In the delicate signature of Jenny's
husband, we discover a timidity that would well become a bashful
lover, and far less character than is observed in that of his wife.
Perhaps music has efherealizcd not only his disposition and nature,
but his hmul also, by its enthralling infiuence.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
207
MAMMOTH TELESCOPE.
We learn from tlie correspondence of the New
York Commercial, that an undertaking of great
interest to scientific persons is now being carried
out within a few miles of London. A wealthy
country clergyman named Craig, is constructing
a new monster telescope, on the achromatic
principle, which will surpass the celebrated in-
strument constructed by Lord Eoss in L-eland.
Its total length will be 85 feet, and its greatest
circumference 13 feet. The weight of the tube
is tliree tons, and the contrivances adopted to
prevent vibration, and to allow of its being rap-
idly turned to any required point, are described
as being singularly perfect and ingenious. It is
understood that the observatory will be endowed
by Mr. Craig, so that it may be maintained in per-
petuity for the advantage of astronomical science.
STOOL LIFE PRESERVERS.
There was a trial of the Stool Life Preserv-
ers at Detroit, lately. The result was perfectly
satisfactory as to their efficiency when in a sound
state. The Detroit Tribune says; "This ex-
periment ought to set the question at rest in the
public mind. It was witnessed by over five hun-
dred persons, and the stool preservers were tested
by someof our most respectable citizens, amongst
whom was 0. M. Hyde, Esq., the collector of
the port. Though Mr. Hyde weighs over 200
pounds, and could not even swim, one of the^
life preservers buoyed him up without difficulty.
A CALORIC SFHP.
The caloric ship " Ericsson " is now com-
plete, with the exceptiou of the engine and joiner
work, and will go off the stocks the latter part of
this week, and will go on her trial trip about the
first of November. Her completion is looked
forward to with great interest, but her builders
ai*e sanguine of success. She will consume only
about eight tons of coal per day, and if expecta-
tions are realized, can be sent on a voyage of
9000 miles — from Panama to Australia — if de-
sired, taking out coal for both the outward and
return trips. She measures 2400 tons.
WORTH KNOWING.
Or, how to get a ickole suit of clothes into a junk
bottle. Kvery time you feel like taking a " horn,"
drop the price of a " nipper " into the bottle, and
take a glass of pure cold water. Repeat this
until the bottle is full, then break it and carry
the contents to a good tailor, and within a month
you will find yourself encased in a new suit of
clothes, without any trouble or expense to your
self. The same can be done with hats, boots,
etc. We have known a cart load of wood and a
barrel of fiom- to be transmogrified in a similar
manner.
AN EARTHQUAKE.
The shock of an earthquake was felt at Au-
gusta, Ga., on the morning of Monday week,
about twenty minutes before three o'clock. The
vibrations — says the Constitutionalist — were sen-
sibly felt, and several persons in the city were
Po startled as to run out of their houses into the
open air. The inhabitants were awakened from
a sound sleep from the rattling of the windows
of their dwellings, and by a faint, dull, rumbling
noise, as of distant thunder.
Singular. — ^A pailful of snow was brought
into the office of the Northetn Journal, Lewis
County, New York, on the 26th ult., obtained in
a gulf, above West Lowvillc. The bank is three
feet deep yet, and bids fair to " linger in the lap
of" winter. With no Alps or Andes to brag of,
■we ju«t challenge the country to beat such an
exhibition in wheat harvest.
Vert Odd. A gentleman in Virginia had a
standing bet for twelve or fifteen years, that it
would rain the first Saturday of every August,
which he has won every year except one. An-
other gentleman bet it would rain the twenty-
fifth of July. He says that it has never failed to
do so for the last sixteen years.
AxoTiiEK Death from Camfhexe. Victo-
ria, daughter of Eev. Joseph Marsh, injured by
the recent camphenc explosion at Sandwich,
died early on Saturday morning.
Financial.— There were $18,000,000 in the
United States Treasury a few days since, subject
to draft.
For Sale. The Atlantic House, Newport, is
to be sold at auction soon.
illaiisiLie ©atljcrings.
A new lighthouse is to be immediately built
near Belfast, Me.
The ropes lately used at the execution of two
murderers at York, were made of silk.
In thirty-one counties in Kentucky, there are
said to be* 201 ,000 head of cattle.
Standing grain was set on fire by lightning, in
ilie north of England, a short time since.
The rice harvest has commenced along the
Savannah River, with prospects of a good crop.
The man who always drives a good bargain,
has at lenglli procured a whip.
A Chinese theatrical company was on its way
to San Francisco, with a capital of 840,000.
G. P. P. James, the distinguished novelist, has
been appointed British Consul, at Norfolk, Va.
The total length of the Mississippi River, with
all its tributaries, is 51,100 miles.
The California papers are discussing the mer-
its of the rival candidates for the presidency with
much warmth.
The corporation of San Francisco have pur-
chased tlic Jenny Lind Theatre, and are to con-
vert it into a City Hall.
A Buffalo perch was caught in the river, at
Madison, la., lately, which weighed twenty-two
pounds.
A lady died in New York, a few days since,
from injuries received by the explosion of
camphcne.
The sum of §15.000 is offered for the raising
of the Atlantic, and $5000 more for the recovery
of the safe containing the Express money.
It is a striking fact, that of the 7000 or 8000
emigrants from this country to Liberia, not one
life has been lost by shipwreck.
There are in the United States eighty-one wo-
men holding the office of postmaster, thirty-one
of whom are in Pennsylvania.
The Collins steamers have crossed the ocean
one hundred times, carrying 9000 passengers,
without loss of life, or injury to person.
Mrs. Forrest, that was, is about to mairy an
early love — an English soldier of fortune, attached
to one of her majesty's regiments. '
Mr. Dennett, the celebrated inventor of the
rockets for saving the lives of persons shipwreck-
ed, died recently in England.
A farmer of Bordeaux was recently detected,
by persons set to watch by himself, robbing his
own hcH' roost, while in a state of somnambulism.
A duel occurred at New Orleans between two
young Creoles of good family, one of whom was
killed. The weapons used were guns.
The City Councils of Augusta, Ga., have fol-
lowed the example of the Savannah Councils,
and voted $100 to the Washington Monument
fund.
The man who smokes in the omnibus has not
gone to Cape May, as has been falsely reported,
but is on a visit to Vesuvius, the great European
smoker.
There have been, during the present year,
twenty one steamboat accidents, involving loss
of life. The number of persons killed and
drowned is 728, and injured 100.
The Old Stone Mill lot, at Newport, contain-
ing one acre and sixty nine hundredths of an
acre, has been sold for building lots, and brought
the sum of S15,000.
Mr. Orcutt, father of the young man convicted
some time since, in Utica, N. Y., and whose sen-
tence of death was commuted to imprisonment
for life, has died of grief.
There are printed in the city of New York,
thirteen weekly religious papers, witli a circula-
tion of 103,900. In London, there are but four
or five, and in Paris, but two or three.
It takes two hundrc d thousand or eighty pounds
of roses to make an ounce and a half of the Ot-
tar of Roses. This is sold at Chazipoor, on the
Ganges, where it is produced at $20 the ounce.
Webster's Dictionary appears to be rising fast
in popularity in England. Longman, the pub-
lisher, has now adopted the revised edition of
Webster, as a peif'ect English standard.
Two glasses of beer per day, at two cents per
glass, amounts, in one year, to $14 60. Two
cents' worth of tobacco, and three cents' worth
of cigars, amount, in one year, to $1S 25.
Different sounds will travel with different velo-
city : a call to dinner will run over a ten-acre lot
in a moment and a half, while a summons to
return to work takes from five to eiglit minutes.
Chinese villages are springing up through the
gold diggings. I'ekin, Hong Kong and Canton
are among the names already given to these
Celestial settlements, some of which number
1500 souls.
Another large hotel, in New York, is to be
built by Monnot, on a lot fronting Madison
Square, between 5th and 6th Avenues. It is to
be of white marble, and equal to anything in the
world, it is said.
There are 400,000 Indians in the United States
Territories, west of the Mississippi. Among
them are laboring one hundred ordained mis-
sionaries, besides assistants, and 10,000 Indians
are communicants.
The Hon. Daniel A. White, of Salem, Mass.,
has made a donation of six acres of land, worth
820,000, to the town of Lawrence. The pro-
ceeds are to be appropriated to the support of
lectures for the young, a public library, and a
ti'ust fund.
JForcign fHtscellang.
Col. Fremont and his ladv are at present in
Paris.
Kossutli remained in London at the last ac-
counts. He was living in great privacy.
The number of visitors to Abbotsford has this
year far exceeded that of other years.
Achillc FoLild, the new French Minister of
State, is a Jew banker.
Antwerp is about to be connected with Rotter-
dam by a railroad.
The police of London are now using the elec-
tric telegraph.
Elihu Burritt is still agitating the Ocean Penny
Postage question in England.
The emigration from the United Kingdom is
now greater than the increase in population.
The Norwegian conimcrcialfleet has increased
107 ships, equal to 24,868 tons, since 1850.
Harvest is proceeding favorably both in Eng-
land and Scotland.
A new periodical has been started in London,
called " Wonderful Things."
Fourteen steamers now ply at all hours of the
day between Constantinople and the picturesque
villages situated along the Bosphorus.
At the Highland and Agricultural Society of
Scotland's Show, at Perth, recently, a premium
was awarded for the reaper of a Rev. Mr. Bell,
over Hussey's American.
Spiritualists have reached Europe. In Prussia
there are large numbers of mediums engaged in
delivering messages while they are asleep. They
talk right out and no rapping.
Lamartinc recently addressed a piece of poetry
to his own bust, alluding in it to the broad ex-
pansive forehead, and the neglect of such genius
by an ungrateful country.
Great damages have been caused, in tlie north-
ern part of Spain, by heavy storms of rain. In
some provinces, the crops are almost entirely
destroyed.
The revolutionists of Rome canyon their cor-
respondence by means of colored handkerchiefs,
the colors of which disappear after a chemical
washing, and leave the writing legible.
An Irish paper states, that all the seats at the
Kilnaboy Chapel, belonging to those persons
who voted for Colonel Vandeleur, have been torn
up, and the parties prohibited from attending
public worship.
The Roman government have sanctioned the
introduction of postage stamps for the pre-pay-
ment of postage on letters. The stamp is about
the size of the English postage stamp, and on it a
representation of the tiara and keys, the badge of
papal dignity and power.
iSaniis of ©olb.
.... We do not possess what we do not un-
derstand.
Learning, with virtue, is better than
houses and lands.
Difficulties are only occasions f jr the
development of talents.
He who has good health is a rich man,
and does not know it.
He who gives you fan: words, feeds you
with an empty spoon.
.... Respect for self, governs morality; re-
spect for others governs our behaviour.
Superstition is the poetry of life. It is
therefore an injury to the poet not to be super-
stitious.
He who knows the world will not be too
bashful. He who knows himself will not be too
impudent.
.... Let men but live as justly as they can,
and just Providence will give them what they
ought to have.
By united effort, the theorist and the
practical man may accomplish much, which nei-
ther could effect alone.
.... Friends should be weighed, not told: who
boasts to have won a multitude of friends, has
ne'er had one. — Coleridge.
.... Drunkenness is the parent of mo^t other
vices. It quenches tlie salutary power of reason,
and makes us the sport of raging passion.
.... Simplicity is the great friend of nature ;
and if we might he proud of anything in this
world, it should be of" this happy alliance.
.... The celebrated Galen said employment
was nature's jihi/sician. It is indeed so important
to happiness, that indolence is justly considered
the parent of misery.
.... Literature is the fragment of fragments :
the least v.'liich has been said and acted has been
written ; and the least of what has been written
has survived.
The truly independent and honest poli-
tician is not always the most popular : and yet,
independence and honesty will secure such popu-
larity as is worth having or seeking for.
.... There is not a creature in the world,
wherein we may not see enough to wonder at :
there is no insect, no spire of grass, no leaf
wherein we see not traces of a divine hand.
Profane sw-earing has always seemed to
be a most voluntary sin. Most ening people
when they do wrong count upon some good to
be derived from their conduct, but for profanity
there is no excuse. — Uosca Ballou.
loker's Buiigct.
I've got in an awful scrape, as the chin said to
the blunt razor.
An expert farmer down East has succeeded in
raising a colt from the " night mare."
Why is the letter A always discordant ? Ans.
Because it is in-harmonious.
" If I am 'stuck up,' I ain't proud," said the
beetle when he was pinned to the wall.
Wliy would you suppose fish did a great deal
of weighing '? Because they always carry scales.
When does a thief resemble molasses? Ans.
When he is put in the stone jug.
A gentleman once sent for an artist to draw
his picture, who was requested to place him
standing unseen behind a tree.
A farmer, when flagellating two of his oldest
boys, was asked what he was doing. " Thrash-
ing wild oats," was his reply.
" No pains will be spared," as the quack said
when sawing off a poor fellow's leg to cure him
of the rheumatism !
At a late break up of the tetotallers, they
were described as retiring from the temperance
festival full of spirits.
A true picture of despair is a pig reaching
through a hole in the fence to get a cabbage that
lies a few inches beyond his reach.
" I'm sorry your cousin Sullivan is dead; a
decent lad he was ever always. And now tell me
what he died of." " He died of a Tuesday !"
A man at a fair was asked if his horse was
timid. "Not at all," said he; "he spends the
whole night by himself in the stable."
There is a chap in Boston who is so very ten-
der-hearted that he bursts into tears whenever he
looks at his cast-off pantaloons. Anything that
looks like suffering, makes him " bile over " in a
minute.
" Don't you think Rev. Mr. K. a preacher of
great power ?" asked a gentleman, in reference to
a pompous, long-winded divine, who spoke in a
high-keyed, drawling voice. " Yes ; h/gh~drawl-ic
power," was the reply of the person addi-essed.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes lat and 2d of the Pictorial Deawinq
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ILLmilNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
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Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pagefl
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208
GLEAS()N\S PKrrOKIAL DRAWING ROOM (;OMrANION.
.|:\M' IM.GATTA AT HULL.
MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL HOSPITAL.
This edifice, located in McLean Street, Boston,
was built in 1611. Originally it had but 1 6S feet
front, with a depth of 54 feet, and a portico of
eight Ionic columns. In 1848, it was enlarged,
and now accommodates more than 100 patients.
What with legislative aid and the contributions
of individuals, the corporation has now a fund of
$171,000 safely invested, the interest of which
contributes largely to its support. In 1850, the
institution received the sum of $5000 — a legacy
of the late Heniy Todd — for the support of free
beds. The number of free beds supplied amounts
to eighty-five. One hundred dollars per year
will support one of these beds. It is the design
of this institution to furnish relief to all who need
it, at as low a rate as possible. The income of
the corporation for the last year, derived from
[For description, hpr pjige 205.1
the invested property, subscriptions for free hfd^,
and from all other sources, was S38,517 — vi/.,
from property of all kinds, $16,917 ; extra divi-
dend of the Hospital Life Insurance Companv,
$18,000; subscriptions for free beds, $2100, and
unexpected funds of the McLean Asylum, $1500.
MASSACHUSETTS GENEaAL HOSPITAL, M LEAJSf STREET, BOSTON.
F. GLEASON,
I CORNER BROMFIELD
1 AND TiiKMONX STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1852.
iS2 PER VOLUJIE.
10 ct8. single.
Vol. III. No. 14.— Whole No. 16.
A FISHUVG PARTY.
The scene which we present to our readcis be-
low forms a fine maritime picture, and was
drawn for us from the life, by Mr. Waud. The
picture in its locale represents Boston Harbor,
and the fishing sloop in the foreground is taking
a party of amateur fishermen down to the fishing
grounds below the lighthouse, just outside of
jt^oint Alderton and the Brewsters. Ofi" these
grounds, the party will be in sight of the cape
on either shore, and especially of Nahant and
Egg Rock ; ten to one they will meet with tlie
veritable j-ea serpent before they return. The
steamer in the distance is the May Flower, the
pet steamer of our beautiful harbor, which runs
between Bo^iton, Long Island, Hull and Hing-
ham, a fleet and safe craft, and one wluL-h com-
mands a very large .share of public patronage.
Here and there in the picture may be seen some
of the numerous islands that dot our bay; in
olden times they were covered witli a luxuriant
growth of trees, and a thick underbrush ; but the
depredations of the early visitors to the bay upon
tliem forfircwood.gradually dismantled them en-
tirely, and they now only present their undulating
surfaces, clad m the green covering of thrifty
grass, and form convenient pasturage for cattle.
There are few better harbors on the Atlantic sea-
board than our own, with a good channel way,
sheltered from the sea, and with plenty of water
at all times ; for maritime commercial purposes
it could hardly he improved. Fishing excur-
sions, during the summer months, are a favorite
source of amusement to a large portion of our
citizens, and such parties as om- artist has here
represented may be seen at almost any hour of
the day casting off their stern lines and setting
sail for the fishing grounds, below the outer light.
Some of those uninitiated individuals that are
so merry just now on the sloop's deck, however,
will be apt to feel somewhat different when the
long, ground swell of the sea in the outer bay gers
command of the hull of tlie trim and bcauiiful
little craft. But we wont prognosticate trouble
for them ; for we hope they will have a merry
time, plenty of bites, a good luncheon, and a
safe return to the wharves again. People who
live far inland and who never participate in these
aquatic sports, can but poorly realize their in-
vigorating effect upon the constitution, the mind
and the body ; but if we have the open sea to
enjoy, you have the dense forests and green
fields, 10 say nothing of fresh water streams and
trout fishing; and one may yield as effective
amount of pleasure and healthful elasticity aa
the other to the busy followers of each.
A FISIIING YACHT PARTY IN BOSTON lIARliOK
210
GLEASON'S nCTOniAL DRAWING ROOM COMPAXION".
A. KOMANIIC STORY OF INCIDIiNT AND ADVENIUJIE.
Entered according to Act ol' Congress, in tlic yeiir 1852, by F. Glkason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of MassaehuscttH.
[written kxphessly ron glkason's riCToniAL.]
I'BllllllI
-on, —
% (Srapljic iSaU of Spain, Italn ani) (ffnglanir.
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[continued.]
CPIArTER Xn.— [continued.]
" There is another phase to this sad drama,
signor; and, since I have so attentively and si-
lently listened to your story, do mc the favor 1o
hear the rest, as it came to me."
"I am all attention, count."
"This same Don Miguel, although he may
have been your friend, was a consummate knave !
An ingrate — a liar — a robber once, himself — an
avaricious, cheating, mm-dcrous wretch !" said
the count, warmly.
"But—"
" I pray you, listen, signor ; my story will be
brief. I tell you that such was the character I
had heard of this very Euberto, whom you com-
pliment."
"But—"
" One moment, by your leave. When I left
Spain, a few weeks since, I heard t!ie details
which I will now repeat to you ; and I crave
your patience.
"You have spoken of one dc Nordc. This
very man had aided Don Miguel into tlie posi-
tion he held, and through his exertions, at a
period prior to Rubcrto's residence near Seville,
he had helped him largely to the means he now
possessed. This same de Norde, some six years
afterward, found himself in comparative adver-
sity, and called upon Ruberto to redeem a vol-
untary promise he had fornaerly made him,
whom he was pleased to call his friend, in pros-
perous days. Don Miguel received him with
apparent welcome, and agreed to accommodate
liim in his pecuniary emergency.
"De Xorde became his temporary guest, and
Ruberto relented of his offer. Forgetting all
that he owed liis former friend — unmindful of
the obligation which he liad voluntarily assumed
— reckless of the consequences which might at-
tend his villany — and, more than all, regarding
liis ill-gotten money of higher value than his
honor, or the good will of him whom he ought
willingly to have served, Ruberto stole into the
sleeping room of his former friend, at midnight,
and would have stabbed him, as ha skinihercd,
but for a circumstance of good fortune which oc-
curred to prevent the deed, and save the life of
that friend and guest !
" But, luckily, de Norde was not there alone !
He had known Ruberto for many a long year,
and he knew him for a selfish, treacherous vil-
lain. He was prepared for violence, and if oc_
casion called he was ready to meet opposition.
Enraged at the duplicity and treachery to which
he had so nearly become a fatal victim, de Norde
called upon the aid which was near at hand, and
finding himself seriously wounded by that very
Ruberto's poignard, he turned upon the wretch,
and avenged liimself upon tlic spot!
" Your information is correct, good signor —
de Norde did sack and pillage Ruberto's house,
and then he caused his premises to be fired. It
was a righteous judgment upon the cowardly
traitor's head — who would have been de Norde*s
assassinator, had not fate intervened to arrest
the intended murderer's blow ! In the midst of
the inelee, Don Miguel fell, in his tracks, covered
with wounds. The flames of his hacienda soon
after hissed over his head, and the traitor was
buried beneath the walls of his own house — a
fitting punishment for the ingrate's perfidy \"
*' And was this all?" asked the stranger, in a
Bcvcre tone, whicli the count did not seem to
note, particularly. " Was tliis all, good count ?"
" Is not this enough ? So comes the tale to
mc, and I think it a wholesome conclusion to an
unfortunate drama. Don Miguel brought his
woe upon himself, if the account be true, as I
have learned it ; and, but for his own treachery,
he might still have been alive and in the enjoy-
ment of his wealth."
"Don Miguel, then, is dead?" said the stran-
ger, with evident feeling. " Ah, my unlucky
friend ! But, good count, there was an item in
the account, as current rumor gives it, that you
have not alluded to. Ruberto's ward, Signora
Almanza ; what became of her? It is said that
this de Norde, not content witli robbing the ha-
cienda, and murdering its proprietor — for, if his
minions cut Ruberto down, and left his mangled
body amid the burning ruins, surely he ivas his
murderer — not satisfied with this, it is said he
stole the fair girl away, and having poisoned her
ears with flattery and promises, induced her
to elope with him, at last. Did you not hear of
this, too V
" Some such account I do remember having
heard," said the count, confusedly. "But — a
truce to fartlier banter, signor. I have already
lent you too much of my leisure, without know-
ing whom I have the honor of speaking with.
Your name, then, signor, ere we proceed further."
"We are alone, count, are we not?" asked
the stranger.
" Yes," replied the count, promptly.
"Let me remove ray mask, then, count, and
you shall say if we have ever met before," and
suiting the action to the word, the visitor c|uickly
displaced his closely-fitting mask, and the count
as quickly sprang to his feet, astounded !
" Ruberto \" exclaimed the count, wildly.
" Don Miguel Ruberto; at your service," con-
tinued the intruder, as calmly as he could speak,
under the circumstances. " And now, Bernard
de Norde," added the old man, " your incognita
will serve you no further in Naples. You may
be the Count Antienne no longer here. You
stand at this moment face to face, de Norde, with
the man you have robbed, abused, maltreated,
and almost murdered — ^liim whom you left to
the mercy of the flames which devoured his
dwelling and his property — your former master,
whom you know too well to believe will not be
even with you yet !"
" Fontini," said dc Norde, deeply agitated,
and totnily unprepared for such a scene, "I
would — "
"Hear me!" tliundered the old-time robber,
drawing himself up to his full height, and assum-
ing his own tone of voice — which all this time
had been completely disguised — "listen yet to
what I have to add."
It was a scene for an artist. The ancient man
of crime stood boldly up before the iron front of
his firm and undismayed, though excited pupil,
and as the robbers gazed each into the other's
eye, there was enough of fire, of determination,
of cunning, of expression, of boldness, and of
character, to aflbrd ample material for a spiiited
picture.
After a moment's jiause, Don Miguel, in a
more subdued, but still vehement tone, resumed
the story of liis grievances, and demanded re-
dress.
CHAPTER XHL
TIIK INTERVIEW ANP ITS RESULT.S.
WiiiLE Don Miguel spoke, the brain of de
Norde was rapidly at work. lie saw that his
retreat had been discovered; he saw that his
RujipositionH regarding the fate of Don Miguel,
whom lie really suppo.sed was dead, were erro-
neous; he Haw that lie was cornered, in a meas-
ure, and even while he suffered Don Miguel to
upbraid and menace him, he was arranging his
own piun^ to meet and rebut the vengeance and
designs of so formidable an enemy as " Fontini."
"De Norde," contimied Don Miguel, "you
have forfeited all chum to mercy or considera-
tion, by your baseness. You have placed your-
self in the position of a rogue among rogues.
You have committed acts which language is in-
adequate to denominate. You have robbed and
imi>oscd upon me — liuberto — Fontini ! whom
yon know, and who will have redress — revenge
for this foul injury, insult and contumely!"
Come, Don Miguel," responded de Norde,
coolly, "suppose we con.sider this matter, like
men — like men of experience, at least, in con-
cerns of this character — and like men who are
acquainted each with the other's faults and
virtues .'"
" I am not here to bandy words."
" I judge not ; but, unless you lower your tone
of voice, all Naples will soon know that Fontini
and dc N-orde, two of the most notorious brig-
ands in Europe, are at this present time in their
very midst. The chance for cither of us to I'e-
tire from this place, when this should be made
public, would be a very indifferent one, I fancy."
" Give me back my ward ! Restore me my
gold ! Show mc, at once, that you will render
me satisfaction for the ruin you have so nearly
accomplished — and do it quickly, Bernard de
Nordc — or, by my highest hopes, I swear to you,
I w^iU be summarily avenged, for this foul at-
tempt upon me and mine !"
" Not too rapidly, Fontini, by you leave. Not
quite so fast ! Corrinnc Almanza, that was, is
now the ivife of the man you appeal to—"
" Do not talk this to me,*' said Don Miguel,
with a sneer. " Think you I am not better ac-
quainted with you, than to believe, for one mo-
ment, i/ou ever intended to marry Corrinnc !
Out upon so paltry a pretension."
" I tell you she is my lawfully wedded wife — "
" I tell you, de Noi"de, I will have my ward,
and you shall yield — "
" Hold, Fontini ! You are proceeding too far.
I will submit no longer to your insult and your
abuse. You know me, and you may judge if I
be your equal. Go, then ! Denounce nie, if
you will — tell the authorities of Naples that 1
am de Norde, if you dare do it — and then you
may add that I defy both them and you ! Pierre
— come fortii !"
" In response to this order, Don Miguel was
astonished and alarmed to see the figure of a
stalwort man spring from the recess to Bernard's
side. Pierre had listened to every word that had
been spoken, during this exciting interview ; and
Don Felix Barbierre, who had played the part
of secretary to his '■ countship," since their arri-
val in Naples, was now ready to aid his master
as valiantly, if need existed, as he had been on a
former occasion, in which the unlucky Ruberto
had figured to his own personal disadvantage.
But the former chief was exasperated beyond
concrol. He saw but a single chance before
him ; he saw that his words had been overheard,
and he determined in his own mind, at once,
how easy a thing it would be for the two men to
make their own representations of the interview,
and sacrifice him, in spite of his contemplated
asseverations. He gazed with fiery eyes upon
his two powerful young antagonists, and his des-
perate emotions nearly overcame him.
"Fontini!" said de Norde, a moment after-
wards, " you would have murdered me in cold
blood, even while I was a guest beneath your
roof, but for a single freak of fortune that favored
me on that fearful night. You put at defiance
me and my necessities, and you must accept the
consequences. I give you notliing — accede to
nothing — I will bargain with you for nothing;
Jicrcafter, let us be strangers — enemies, if you
choose — but not one jot or tittle of my own
rights will I concede to you, under threat, advice,
or persuasion !"
Scarcely had these words - escaped the lips of
de Norde, when Don Miguel sprang upon his
former lieutenant with a tiger's fierceness, grasp-
ing him violently at the throat, as the latter
staggered back, from the suddenness of the as-
sault, against the wall of the apartment. But
the act was very quickly responded to, for de
Norde was an athletic fellow, and he was now
backed by his faithful and powerful companion,
the formidable Pierre.
" Quick !" shouted de Nordc, to his attendant,
" llicre is but a single chance left us. To the
right, Pierre !" and with these brief words, dc
Nordc .seized upon the person of old Don Mig-
n<d, and was <|uickly backed by \m companion,
Pierre — who saw that tlic throw wjis a desperate
one; and* there was, truly, but one chance left
them in Ihis dilemma.
A heavy fall followed the rem.irk of dc Nordc,
as the form of Ridjcrto disappeared within the
door of a suddenly discovered closet, on the right
oflhc ajiartrnent. "Trait—" Bcrearaed the old
man, who would have denounced dc Norde and
his companion for their condut-t, if lie hiul been
permitted; but, ore he could fiiush the word
"traitor!" a handkercliief had been forced into
his mouth, he was thrown violently upon the
floor by his two assailants, his hand.-i and feet
were instantly lied — and thus gagged and pin-
ioned, they left him in the closet, in silence and
darkness.
It was now midnight. As de Norde returned
to liis room again, with Pierre at his side, lie said
to his confederate ;
" What remains to be done, must be accom-
plished on the instant."
" But how can we move ?" asked Pierre.
" Easily, easily enough. Since he is not dead,
I have no wish to be his murderer ; I will not
harm him, personally, except to protect myself
and my interests. I feared he //(/(/fallen beneath
the smoking mins of his hou.se. He has escaped
— let him live. Now to business."
" What is 10 be done, then ?"
" I had not anticipated this adventure, you
may be certain, Pierre, But, to guard against
accidents, I laid my plans to leave Naples,
on my amval here, at any moment I might
be called upon to depart, perhaps in a hurry.
Order our horses, therefore, at once. See you
to the breaking up of our establishment, person-
ally. Discharge the accounts here, honorably,
and get the men away, forthwith."
" Where shall we rendezvous ?"
" At the gorge, in the rear of Vecchia."
" When, captain ?"
" To morrow night. I will be with you at the
rising of the moon. In the meantime, make no
unnecessary stir, but retire quietly, and as speedi-
ly as may be. Good night. I will address a
note to the landlord, to be delivered to him in
the morning, requesting him to release the old
man, yonder, who has again been the cause of
trouble for nie. He will rest quiet till daylight."
" I think so," said Pierre, looking towards the
door of the closet.
" Away, then ! I will seek Corrinnc, who has
been asleep for three hours — unless she is watch-
ing for me — and we shall meet again. Adios!"
The jobbers parted company, and PieiTC set
about his departure, instantly. Everything was
quickly in readiness ; for de Norde — or rather the
" Count Antienne," as he was known in Naples
— had arranged his mattei-s on his arrival there,
so that he could retire, without suspicions or
queries, at any hour when he chose to do so.
As soon as Pierre left his presence, he repaired
to a small ante room, set oflf from his principal
room, where he secured his own private jewels,
gold, and bills of exchange, and then seating
himself at a small table, he leisurely wrote a note
to the landlord of the hotel, in the following
words :
" SiGNOK : In the closet of the principal apart-
ment I have lately occupied — beyond the sleep-
ing rooms — you will find a scoundrel gagged and
pinioned, who ferretted his way into my pres-
ence, at midnight, and would have murdered me,
likely, but that I put him at defiance and con-
quered him.
" I have spared his life, which, under the cir-
cumstances, he knows was a leniency on iny part ;
and I desire that yon will lose no time in releas-
ing him from his present uncomfortable position,
as soon as you may receive this note. He is a
heartless, treacherous scoundrel, I repeat. But
I do not fear htm. When you shall receive this
I shall be far out of his reach. Adios !
Antienne."
This brief missive he carefully sealed, and
having superscribed it to the landlord's address,
he laid it aside temporarily, and concluded the
final arrangements for his departure from Naples.
"Half an hour afterward he rang his bell.
An attendant quickly responded.
" Is your master still up ?" he inquired of the
servant who entered.
"No, signor; he returned from a bal inasque
but a little time ago, and has just now retired to
bed. I will call him."
"No, no. It is a matter of no consequence.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING . E.OOM COMPANION.
211
" Here," continued the count, as lie handed the
man a half crown and the letter, togteher, " take
char<;:e of this for your master — to be delivered
to him in the morninj^. Do you understand V
" Yes, signor."
"My servants and retinue have already de-
parted, I presume."
" Yes, signor — half an hour since."
" It is well. In the morning deliver the letter.
Now order my travelling carriage."
" It is already in readiness, signor, by order of
your secretary, who with the rest has gone for-
ward."
" You may retire," said the count, and five
minutes afterward he repaired to the chamber of
his wife, to rouse her for the journey so suddenly
determined upon.
The utter consternation of de Norde may be
conceived, when, upon entering, he found the
couch was undisturbed — and Corrinne was
missing !
CHAPTER XIV.
MYSTERIOCS DISAPPEARANCE OF CORRINNE AT
NAPLES.
While de Norde was making his final ar-
rangements to quit Naples, as described in the
Irtst chapter, and at the moment when he discov-
ered that his loved Corrinne had so mysteriously
disappeared, a troop of well mounted horsemen,
headed by Pierre, in person, were gallophig
along at a rapid gait towards the rendezvous as-
signed them by their commander, tiirough his
late nominal "secretary." Ere daylight broke,
they were safely secreted in the gorge, beyond
Vecchia, where they were to remain temporarily
for further orders. These men had lately formed
the retinue of attendants and attaches to the
" Count Antienne," at Naples ! They were in
fact a portion of tlie band of Bernard de Norde,
of which Pierre was also now lieutenant.
In the meanwhile, as we have seen, de Norde
had written his note to the landlord, and it had
passed out of his hands. Upon reaching liis
wife's apartment, he was astounded at the fact
that she was absent, for he recollected quickly
that as he left her at the door a few hours pre-
viously, he had cautioned her particulaidy against
any intrusion. And we must now go back, for
a moment, in our story.
" Retire," he said, " loved Corrinne, and hav-
ing locked the door upon the inside, remove
your key; I have a duplicate, and I will thus re-
turn to you, anon, without disturbing you."
She followed his instructions ; but neither de
Norde nor Corrinne suspected that they had been
dogged, and that their very movements had been
watched, during the evening, up to their arrival
at the threshold of their sleeping apartment.
Such, however, was the fact!
Scarcely had tlie footsteps of de Norde ceased
to echo in the long-winding corridor which led
from one of his rooms to the cliief parlor he oc-
cupied, when the figure of a stalwort man dark-
ened the passage-way, beyond the chamber door.
Advancing cautiously, the person alluded to
halted near the room where Corrinne had retired,
and having seemingly taken a careful survey
of the door, he disappeared; but, in a few
minutes he returned again, applied to the lock
a skeleton key, and witliout uttering a single
word of explanation or warning, thrust himself
at once into the astonislied presence of Corrinne
Almanza, The intruder was the man who had
crossed the path of Bernard, in the garden, a
few minutes previously ; it was her former pro-
tector and guardian, 'Don Miguel Ruberto, who
stood unsummoned before her !
" Heaven preserve us !" said Corrinne, deeply
startled, and scarcely willing to credit her own
vision — " Don Miguel — is it yourself 1 — speak!"
" I see, my daughter," responded Ruberto, at
once, " that you have not forgotten your old
protector and friend."
" Tell me, Don Miguel, I pray you, what
does this mean'? Whence come you? How
did you escape the perils of that awful night?
Why are you here '? What has brought — "
" Cease, Corrinne," replied Ruberto, in a hur-
ried manner, " cease to question me, at present.
I have no time for answers, not a moment for
explanations. I came to rescue you from ths
toils of a villain — a traitor, a consummate scoun-
drel— who has seduced your affections, and who
will prove your certain ruin — body and soul —
unless you flee at once from the meshes in which
you have become entangled."
" I beg you, good signor, explain those dread-
ful words. If I have erred — "
"Erred!'* exclaimed Don Miguel, with deep
emphasis ; " poor child ! how have you been de-
ceived, and cajoled, and perilled. But redress
and aid are at hand. The wretch who has im-
posed upon lis must now answer for his villany.
Don Miguel lives to protect his ward !"
" 0, signor, of what terrible conspiracy am I
the victim, as your words may indicate V
" Corrinne, in one word, are you not the com-
panion of Bernard de Norde, the bravo !"
" I am the jvife of Bernard — "
"Pshaw! girl; do not attempt to deceive
Don Miguel with this stale stuff."
"I tell you, signor, in all honesty, I am his
lawful wedded wife ; our hands were joined by a
priest of the holy church, within tliis month."
" Then are you thus doubly deceived ; for he
has imposed a false piiest upon you, I do not
doubt. But haste thee, Corrinne, for I am here
to claim my ward ; and I demand your attend-
ance upon me, forthwith. Por the present, you
will leave this place, under my protection, and I
will quickly show you how fortunate you are
that I have been able thus to rescue you from
the power and the companionship of the vile
robber and knave vrho has so cruelly imposed
upon your gentle confidence; Quick, then!
Por time presses me."
"Bobber, signor !"
" The chief of a murderous band of robbers,
Corrinne I The leader of the clan that sacked
our dwelling in Spain, and left me amid the
buiTiing ruins. The wily 'magician' of Seville
— the visitor at my house, who cheated me of my
gold, and stole my ward, amidst the ruin hii>
hands had been the cause of producing. I speak
truth, my daughter; and I am here. I say, fuUy
prepared to punish him, and to sa.ve>/oii. Haste,
then, I repeat ! Anon you shall know all !"
Even while he spoke thus earnestly, Don Mig-
uel approached his late ward, and taking her
hand, he urged her immediate departure. Cor-
rinne was lost amid her consternation and the
conflicting emotions caused b}' this astounding
announcement; for she now heard, for the first
time, that Bernard was such a character ! His
own account of himself had been indefinite, but
satisfactory to her, for the time being, and she
had had no occasion, thus far, to suspect him ;
least of all did she imagine tliat her fortune had
united her in wedlock with the chief of a band of
robbers ! She hesitated, but Don Miguel con-
tinued to urge lier forward.
" Come, Corrinne ! Confide in the man who
has proved himself your friend — when you need-
ed friends. Come with me, and rely upon the
confidence, the honor, the afi"cction of him who
will ever continue to be your friend. Come —
quickly — everything shall be duly explained to
you ; but do not defer this opportunity to escape
from the peril which threatens you !"
Bewildered, grieved, astonished — yet confiding
in the statements of the person whom she had
learned to respect, from her six years' intimacy
under his protection, Corrinne suffered herself to
be led from her chamber, through the corridor,
to the great entrance-hall, below, in silence !
For her heart seemed ready to burst with the
crushing information so suddenly forced upon
her by the Spaniard, A carriage stood in wait-
ing at the portal, and as she was about to emerge
from the private door of the hotel, her reason
seemed to return to her, and with a look of un-
utterable anguish and love combined, she turned
to Don Miguel, and uttered the name of " Ber-
nard '!"
" Do not speak that word here, Corrinne," im-
mediately replied Ruberto, " or wc are lost !
Remember, he is not known here, save as the
Count Antienne. He may be disposed to repair
the evil he has done, and he may yet escape,
also. But, haste ! I go to confer with him."
"Bernard! My husband ! 0, signor, spare
me the pain of such a separation, such a flight
as this. 1 beseech you, allow me to speak with
him one word, one single sentence, at parting,
and I go under your guidance willingly."
" No, Corrinne," responded Don Miguel, " no.
Such a course would be fatal. We have no time
for this ; be advised by your old guardian ;
come! You will be borne to the house of a
near friend of mine, close at hand, and I will
communicate with you again within two hours."
With these last words, Corrinne was urged
forward, placed within the vehicle, the door was
closed, and the wife of Bernard de Norde, all
unconscious of her destination or her fate, was
hurried away from her hotel, to a place prepared
for her, and previously agreed upon between
Don Miguel and the driver, who had been heav-
ily bribed for this service.
AH this had occupied but a few minutes of
time; and Don Miguel immediately afterward
made his appearance, disguised, as wc have
seen, in the apartment of the nominal Count
Antienne. The interview between the two rot)-
hers succeeded this transaction — Don Miguel
was secured, and lay pinioned in the count's
closet — the letter had been written by de Norde
— the remainder of the band had departed, and
Bernard went to seek his wife, but, as wc have
stated, she was no where to be found !
Bernard could scarcely credit or realize the
fact ; but his wit did not desert him. He fancied
an hundred ways to apologize for her absence,
though he at once sought for her in every direc-
tion. She might have returned to the garden
alone, he thought — though such was not lier
custom ; he threaded every avenue there without
success. He retm-ned to her room — she was not
there. He inquired of the night servants, but no
one knew a word about the matter. In vain he
essayed to trace her out !
Could she have eloped? — no, no! He was
cruel thus to suspect her for a moment. She
must have joined Pierre and his party, probably
through a misunderstanding on his lieutenant's
part, and she had gone forward with them, per-
haps. He wandered through the house, forgot
everything save the mysterious disappearance of
his wife; and morning was now approaching,
but still he could discover no trace of her !
By chance, at length, he met with one of the
attendants who saw Corrinne as she stepped into
the carriage ; and who supposed that she left in
company with the others, as all of them moved
away at about the same time. He so informed
the count, and it was but a very minutes after-
wards that Bernard was galloping at full speed
towards the rendezvous, greatly relieved in his
imagination. But, as wc shall see, he was
doomed to bitter disappointment !
Morning broke, at last, and at a reasonably
early hour, the attendant who had been en-
trusted with de Norde's letter, delivered it, as
instmcted, into his master's hands. It was a
strange missive, and a very impudent one, so
thought the landlord ! But he lost no time in
proceeding to the spot designated, where he
found Don Miguel, helpless and greatly exhaust-
ed, and whom he caused to be released, at once,
from his jeopardy and durance.
The old Spaniard was not seriously injured,
and his plans liad thus far worked so well — not-
withstanding his temporary defeat and incarcera-
tion— that his spirits very soon revived ; and he
told his own story to his landlord, who at once
agreed to keep quiet, for a good and valuable
consideration ! The chiefobject of Don Miguel,
to wit, the separation of Corrinne from Bernard,
and the obtaining possession of his ward again,
had been accomplished — and he was well satis-
fied with his success thus far ! But Bernard and
his clan had escaped, certainly; and this he re-
gretted. However, he would follow them up;
there was ample time for him yet ; and he would
be avenged upon the man whom he had taught to
be a villain, and who had for a time obtained
the advantage over him, wicked, and cunning,
and reckless as he had himself been I
Bernard reached the gorge beyond Vecehia,
and quickly communicated with Pieire and his
men ; but no word of information could he ob-
tain, amongst them, of his lost Corrinne I He
was well nigh frantic with disappointment, when,
for the first time, he suddenly susjiccted that
Don Miguel might have been instrumental in
spiriting her away. How this could have been
effected, or by what infernal machinations the
Spaniard might have obtained access to his wife,
he could not divine. Yet he suspected his an-
tagonist, and this was enough for Beraard de
Norde !
After a brief consultation with the lieutenant,
he quietly decided upon the course he should
pursue, in his present emergency, and he went
about the prosecution of his intentions forthwith.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BEGGAR OF THE HOTEL ST, MAEC.
For several days prior to the scenes we have
just now related, there had been seen, daily,
among the lazzaroni that loitered near the ter-
race of the hotel where de Norde and his party
had tarried, a professional beggar, who had at-
tracted the especial notice of Bernard and other
visitors, for his pecuUarity of costume and the
particular air of presumption which character-
ized his continual alms seeking.
Bernard de Norde had not escaped this in-
veterate beggar's appeals, and more than once,
as he halted to contribute his mite lo the fellow's
demand, did lie scan his countenance, and aim
to read his character in his face. The beggar
suspected notiiing, however, and Bernard moved
away, with the conviction that something per-
haps might be made of this forbidding mendi-
cant, at some time or other.
"Do you not remember, Pierre," he asked,
turning to his lieutenant, suddenly, "the person
of the miserable beggar we have so often met at
the foot of the terrace near our late lodgings —
him with the slouched bat and seared eye V
" Very distinctly, captain."
" I am glad of that."
" He was a cunning rogue, X think."
" You are right. I would use him."
" That may readily be done, captain."
" So I think. His size and figure are not un-
like my own, if I remember rightly."
" Yes, he is no larger, at all events."
" So I believe. Come, join me, at once. I
will return to Naples."
" To Naples, captain V
" Yes. I must have the suit of clothes that
fellow wears. You shall know particulars as
we proceed along."
"I see, captain."
"Perhaps you don*t, though! But, hasten,
Pierre. We have no leisure for explanations
now."
The two men were very shortly afterwards in
the saddle, and but a little time passed, ere they
arrived as near to the vicinity of the hotel as
they dared to approach, under the circumstances.
Here they alighted and held a short conference,
the result of which will be made to appear as
we proceed. They separated, finally, and before
noon, the plan proposed by de Norde had been
successfully commenced.
Towards evening the residents at the hotel
sauntered forth to enjoy the cool breezes which
were wafted from the waters, and the lazzaroni
were abroad, as usual, with open palms and pit-
eous stories. Among them appeared the noted
beggar wc have alluded to, who lounged, as was
his wont, at the foot of the outer terrace.
There came along an oldish man, well dressed
and firm in his gait, but one who had evidently
been ill of late, who gave alms but charingly,
and who did not like the annoyance occasioned
by the frequent applications of the street loun-
gers.
" Give, signor — give to the poor cripple, an' it
please you — the smallest pittance will be grate-
ful," said the one-eyed beggar, imploringly.
It was Don Miguel Ruberto wliotn he thus
accosted, and who felt generous at this moment,
for he had secured the person of his charming
ward, and de Norde, his enemy, had fled from
Naples ! He was at that moment on his way to
confer with Corrinne, who had been secreted at
the mansion of an acquaintance, since her ab-
duction in the morning, and he had the field to
himself! He felt kindly and liberal, therefore,
under the circumstances, and he threw the beggar
a five franc piece, at once.
Don Miguel had seen this very man a dozen
times before, and a dozen times had he been im-
portuned by hira as he passed. There was the
same slouched hat, the same rent vesture and
small clothes, the same scraggy hair, the same
patch-covered eye, the same brown face over-
grown with matted red whiskers, the same torn
boots, the same form and voice axidtout ensemble.
He had never condescended to give before, but
now he tossed him the largest silver coin in liis
pocket, and said :
" You are a lazy, one-eyed rascal, but I am in.
luck, to-day. Take it, and do not annoy me
funher." And with these words, Don Miguel
passed rapidly on, towards the dwelling where
Corrinne was temporarily domiciled.
" One-eyed I" muttered the beggar to himself.
" Yet with that same one eye, some there are
who could see more than many others who have
two !" And as Don Miguel hastened along, the
rough beggar disappeared at once from the foot
of the terrace, also.
Ruberto moved with hurried footsteps, but at
a distance there followed on his track two forms
that he little fancied were so near him ! He
turned and passed to the left, down a long ave-
nue, and then crossed again to the right. As
evening shut in, he halted before a modest ap-
pearing dwelling, mounted the steps, opened the
door without ceremony, and entered the house.
[to be continued.]
How little do they Fee what is, who frame
Their haaty judgments upon that which, seems.
Southey.
212
GLEASON'S PIOTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE NUKSERY VACIIT.
One of the nioHt iTij;('niows
nnd useful inventions of iho
Any is the Nursery Yiieht; nnd,
in addition, it is ii rei\l blessing
lo mothers and nurses . It
combines within itself exercise
uTifl iimusement, und provides
for the '• biit)y" ii.s well as for
little folk somewhat more nd-
vaneed. Moreover, it is ihor-
on^hly safe. Now, at lirst
slight, it appears iistonishin;<
that so charming a movement,
as see-saw — charming at least
to all who arc not too wise to
be amused — should never nntil
now have been improved into
an available shape for the nur-
sery. But wo live and learn,
and the application of j^ood old
ideas to great modern adaptiv
tions is of daily occurrence.
The Nursery Yacht is an Eng-
lish invention. The object the
inventor had in view in con-
structing this machine, was to
supply a want long felt by
those having the charge of
young children, viz., an appa-
ratus which would atlbi-d a
source of amusement, at the
same time that the m-c of it im-
plied moderate and agreeable
exercise, without the liabiliiy
to accident or injury, and with-
out the attendance of a nurse.
On examining the machine it
will be found that these ends
arc attained. The middle seat
is intended for children from
twelvemonths old and upwards,
and is protected by a fixed
frame, or guard, whieli, when
the child is on tlie seal, forms
a girth around it, and prevents
the possibility of a fall or of
slipping from the seat. The
end seats arc protected by
frames hinged on to the middle
guard, the other ends of which
rest on the extremities of the seats. The chil-
dren, before seating themselves on the end seats,
raise the guards, and when seated loose them,
and they fall into their proper places. The oc-
cupants of the end scats are then perfectly safe,
as any pressure against the guards tends only to
keep them more securely in their places. And
thus, were the machine not only rocked to its
fullest extent, but even placed on end, which the
inventor has frequently resorted to when chil-
dren have been in the Yacht, for the purpose of
proving its complete safety, the little ones are as
secure in their scats (being held there by the
guards) as if the machine were in its usual posi-
tion on the floor. In order to prevent children
that are not ridiuij in the Yacht from approach-
ing too near, and thus running the risk of having
their toes pinched by the rockers, a foot guard is
attached to each rocker, which prevents the foot
from passing under it. The machine is perfectly
noiseless, and we are willing to acknowledge that
it beats our Yankee baby-jumpers " all hollow."
TliE NEW NURSERY YACHT.
SUMMER VILLA OF A RUSSIAN NOBLE.
We present below to the readers of the Picto-
rial a fine scene representing the summer resi-
dence of the Kara family, situated on their estate
in the remote government of Tambov, about
1150 versts from St. Petersburg. It will serve
to convey some idea of the abodes in which the
Russian nobility pass their level}' but fleeting
summer. It is the property of a noble neither
very rich, nor of the highest rank, but one who
has served his country in many a tough cam-
paign, and still serves it well, by combating the
prejudices of the several thousands over whom
his sway extends. The front or carriage en-
trance, is situated in the main and original body of
the building, being the other side of that given
in the sketch below. This part of the house is
for the exclusive use of the family, differing little
in appearance from the other, except in the
quadrangle front a line of conservatories runs
along the windows of the ladies' apartments,
which latter comprises nearly half the building
on that side, from the portico to the flag tower
on the right : the flag hoisted thereon, shows the
mistress of the mansion is at home, while that
on the left marks the presence of its seigneur.
Stretching from behind each tower, consequently
vis-a-vis to each other, runs a line of gothic build-
ings, connected by the towers to the main portion
and thus forming three sides of the quadrangle.
These new erections are extremely fine ; they are
built of brick, of that style called Saracenic — the
prominent buttresses, pinnacles, ramified windows,
the profusion of ornaments, as well as its distin-
guishing characteristics, the small clustering pil-
lars and pointed arches, are, for the most part,
composed of a fine white stone. The line on
the left comprises the kitchen and its appurten-
ances, cooks' rooms, etc., while the rest of the
building is devoted to various offices, drawing-
rooms, etc. A beautiful pond or mountain lake
lies in front of the mansion, its bosom dotted
here and there with numerous swans, ducks, and
other aquatic birds and animals.
THE SKY.
It is a strange thing how lit-
tle, in general, people care
about the sky. It is the part
of creation in which nature has
done more for the sake of pleas-
ing man — more for the sole
and evident purpose of talking
to him, and teaching him —
than in any other of her works ;
and it is just the part in which
we least attend to her. If in
our moments of utter idleness
and insipidity we turn to the
sky as a last resource, which of
its phenomena do we speak of?
One says it has been wet,
another it has been windy, and
another it has been warm. —
Who among the whole chatter-
ing crovt-d can tell mc of the
forms and the precipices of the
chain of tall white mountains
that gilded the horizon at noon
yesterday ? Who saw the nar-
row sunbeam that came out of
the south, and smote upon their
summits until they melted and
mouldered away in a dust of
blue rain ? Who saw the dance
of the dead clouds when the
sunlight left them last night,
and the west wind blew them
before it like withered leaves ?
All has passed unregretted or
unseen ; or, if the apathy be
ever shaken off, even for an in-
stant, it is only by what is ex-
traordinary. And yet it is not
in the broad and fierce mani-
festation of the elemental ener-
gies— not in the clash of the
^=' hail, nor the drift of the whirl-
wind— that the highest charac-
ters of the sublime are devel-
oped. God is not always so
eloquent in the earthquake, nor
in the fire, as in "the still,
small voice." They are but
the blunt and the low faculties
of our nature which can only
he addressed through lamplilack and lightning.
It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtru-
sive majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the
perpetual — that which must be sought ere it is
seen, and loved ere it is understood— things
which are never repeated, which are to be found
always, yet each found but once. It is through
these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught,
and the blessing of beauty given. — John Riiskin.
CHALK.
Colonel Dodge, of the United States array,
found, not long since, a quarry of chalk near the
Missouri. This mineral had not before been dis-
covered in our country, though sought for and
supposed to exist ; except that Professor Kuttall
detected some, a few years ago, in the western
country, but less pure and of less extent than
that discovered by Colonel Dodge. — It is proba-
bly known that chalk is formed by the carbonate
of lime, and is a neutral salt ; but pure chalk has
not before been found in the United States.
SUMMER RESIDENCE OF THE KARA FAMILY, AT TAMBOV; 1150 VERSTS FROM ST. PETERSBURG.
CxLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
213
THE ASSU3IPT10N OF THE VIRGIN.
The readers of the Pictorial will remembL'r of
seeing in our columns, not lon^ since, a para-
graph relating; to the sale of the Soult Gallcrv,
which took place in May last at Paris. The
"Assumption of the Virgin," by Murillo, from
which tlic engraving below was taken, was sold
at that time for $117,000) This sale formed an
important epoch in the history of art. It is
doubtless well known to our readers that the pic-
tures w h i c li
formed the fa-
mous Soult
Gallery were
the result of
spoils taken
by Soult in
the famous
Peninsular
War. For
obvious rea-
sons the Eng-
lish have ever
held the val-
iant marshal
in the light of
a thief and
plunderer;
and on the oc-
casion of the
sale, referred
to the subject
in that light.
The following
notice relative
to the subject
we take from
a London pa-
per:—" Soult
and Sebastia-
ni, by the for-
tune of war,
became the
two rapacious
plunderers of
art in Spain ;
— G r e n a d a,
with its Alon-
zo Canos, fall-
ing to the lot
of Sebastiani;
and Seville,
with its Mu-
rines, and
Morales, and
Zurburans to
that of Soult.
Plunderers,
we say, for as
plunder sim-
ply were these
works viewed
by the con-
querors, who,
with c a t a -
logue in one
hand and
sword in the
other, remov-
ed them from
walls for
which they
had been
painted, and
which the ar-
tists flattered
themselves
they should
adorn forever.
How much
their new pos-
sessors valued
them, except
in regard to
"what they
would fetch,"
may be judg-
ed from the
fact that by
neither of
them were
their collec-
tions designed
to descend as
heirlooms to
their respec-
tive families,
hut were job-
bed about for
sale upon ev-
ery favorable
opportunity
which pre-
sented itself.
Sebastiani, in
1814, the peri-
od of the "Re-
storation," of-
fered his en-
tire pickings
(73 pictures)
to ihe Prince
Regent of
Great Britain, for £10,000; which very reason-
able sum being refused by that government, he
afterwards got rid of them in detail in the course
of his lifetime. That Soult retained his gallery
till his death, was only because he did not tind a
purchaser who would "come up to his price." As
a work of art the original of the engraving which
the reader has herewith, is celebrated all over
the Christian world, and is indeed one of tlie
greatest masterpieces of taste and beauty, evinc-
ing wonderful finish of conception ; appreciated
not only by the masters in painting, but by every
lover of art who has seen it.
BEAUTY EVERYWHERE.
We all of us, in a great measure, create our
own happiness, which is not half so much de-
pendent upon scenes and circumstances as most
people are apt to imagine; and so it is with
beauty. Nature does little more than furniih us
with materials of both, leaving us to work them
out for ourselves. "Stars and flowers, and hills,
and woods, and strgams, are letters, and words,
and voices, vehicles and missionaries," but they
he long thus ; sin and sorrow, and blinding
tears, will dim the mirror of our inmost thoughts ;
but we must pray and look again, and by-and-by
the cloud will pass away. There is beauty ev-
erywhere, but it requires to be sought, and the
seeker after it is sure to find it: — it may be in
some out-of-the-way place, where no one else
would think of looking. Beauty is a fairy ;
sometimes she hides herself in a flower-cup, or
under a leaf, or creeps into the old ivy, and plays
ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN.
need to be interpreted in the right spirit. We
must read, and listen for them, and endeavor to
understand and profit by them. And when wc
look around us upon earth, we must not forget
tn look upward to heaven ; " Those who can see
God in everything," writes a popular author,
" are sure to see good in everything." We may
add with truth, that they are also sure to see
beauty in everything and everywhere. When
we are at peace with ourselves and the world, it
is as though we gazed upon outward things
through a golden-tinted glass, and saw a glorv
resting upon them all. We know that it cannot
hide nnd-scekwith the sunbeams, or haunts some
ruined spot, or laughs out of a hriglit, young
face. Sometimes she takes the form of a" white
cloud, and goes dancing over the green fields, or
the deep blue sea, where lier misty form, marked
out in momentary darkness, looks like the pass-
ing shadow of an angel's wings. Beauty is a
coquette, and weaves herself a robe of various
hues, according to the season — and it is hard to
say which is the most becoming of all the atti-
tudes and shades she is wont to assume, as she
traces her lineaments on the broad canvass of
nature. — BJacLttoocVs; Mafjazine.
SYSTEMS OF EDUCATION.
Among the heathen nations, the Persians in
the time of Cyrus considered the virtues, espe-
cially justice and gratitude, as the main object
of education ; among the Athenians, accomplish-
ments in arts, sciences and letters were the end ;
among the Spartans, obedience was the ^ole
principle of instruction, liecause that would pre-
serve the ascendancy of the laws. Yet neither
of these answered their designs. Persia acquired
some of the
milder vir-
tues, but fail-
ed in strength
and hardi-
hood ; Athens
f o u n d that
neither art
nor science
would avail
against de-
pravity of
morals ; and
Sparta found
that it was not
enough to se-
c u re obedi-
ence to laws
without con-
sidering their
nature and ef-
fect; Persia
fell a victim
to luxury,
Athens to li-
centiousness,
and Sparta to
tyranny. Such
are the lessons
of antiquity,
and its splen-
did wreck re-
mains an ex-
ample to warn
us against the
dangers of
partial sys-
tems. But
under the new
light which
the Christian
system has
thrown over
the power r.nd
destiny of the
soul, a differ-
ent view has
been taken of
the end and
means of edu-
cation. We
consider the
object of edu-
cation as two-
fold ; one, to
improve and
strengthen the
mind itself;
the other, to
endow it with
whatever i s
valuable o r
auxiliary i n
the duties of
life. Much of
the crime so
rife in the
world finds its
origin in ig-
norance, not
always, in-
deed, of the
laAvs of the
land, but of
the misery
and ruin en-
tailed upon
the indul-
gence of a vi-
cious course.
And that is
the best sys-
tem of educa-
tion which so
pre-occupies
the youthful
mind with the
wholesom e
truths of mo-
rality and re-
ligion, blend-
ed with ii just
view of the rt-
strictions a
wi^c and kind
moral govor-
norhas filaccd
around hu-
m:in conduct,
as will be like-
ly to ensure
an enllglitei -
td obediuTuc
to the dictates of truth. In our day more tlmuiilit
has been given to the high and rea'ly legitimate
object of a true education. In some of the stales
of Germany there is a system pursu"d, which is
attended by very beneficial results, in dilfu^inir
knowledge among the common people. The l.iw
does not allow a man to be married, unless he cm
read, write and cast accounts ; and nny one w'lo
employs a workman, that cannot read and writ:',
is linbic to a heavy penalty. At the same time,
provision is made for public schools, to be paid
in part by government. Crime is of very rare
occurrence hi these states. — Laws and Codes.
211
GLEASON'S riCTOrJAL DRAWING r.OOM CO^IPANION.
[WritUm ful- <llL-iiKim'H I'ictoriiil,]
LIFE.
SV JOim D. JOUNSON, M. D.
llDiigl)8 i^venly wjii'o
On tlio tr«e, stront,' and fiiir;
SliiNtH, tliough tlicy nivu,
Cimiiot piirt j'o from thorol
ConHrioiirt uf powLT,
Yo Hjjort with tln' ffilo,
UuniiiuUul tlio hour
Wluiu vigor t'ball I'uil !
At laflf yo are withL-retl,
Anil broUcii uwiiy ;
rulliny — yu're sliivei-ed,
Kottiiig — ye lay ;
>Viii(lH your Uuat yiitlmr,
The ground ia swept bjire ;
Cuiifit thou tell whetlitsr
One bouyh haa bi%n tlierv?
In life's curly spring,
Young hopes of tbi! boiu*t,
Sti'oug, ckwtering cling,
As ne'cv to di;;t^irt.
The budy open giiily,
Fling fresh oOoi-ti round;
"We wutcb their growth daily j
No blight can be found.
£re the summer is past
But lew wear their bloom,
Ere winter's rough Mast,
They 're all in tho tomb ;
Drear loneliness creeps,
Every joy is effaced ;
WearinesB sweeps.
The lieart is a waste I
Turning from life,
That never shed peace j
Broke in the strife.
It begs for release,
Ueard its mute prayer,
In worlds of the blessed ;
Death wings it there,
The heart is at rest!
ITrauslated from the German for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ASHENPUTTEL.
BY T. BULFINOH.
The story of " Cinderella and the Glass Slip-
per " is too well known to the readers of the
Pictorial, to rc(|uire repetition in our pages.
But the German-s have a way of telling it, under
the name of Ashenputtel, which varies somewhat
from ours — which is nearest the truth, we know
not — and perhaps our readers may like to know
the German version.
A certain ricli man's wife was sick ; and as
she felt her end approaching, she called the little
girl, her only daughter, to her bedside, and said :
"My dear child, be always good and kind, and
the good God will always help you, and I will
look down from heaven and be near you."
Having said this, she shut her eyes and died.
The little girl went every day to her mother's
grave, and cried, and continued kind and good.
The snow spread a white covering over the
grave, and wlien the sun melted it away the man
took another wife.
The new mother brought with her into the
family two daughters, who were fair and pretty
of countenance, but foul and ugly of heart.
Then came a hard time for the poor stejjdaugh-
ter. " What business has the creature in the
parlor?" said the mother; "those that would
cat must work. Go and stay with the kitchen
maid." They took away her nice clothes, put
on her an old gray frock, made sport of lier, and
drove her into the kitchen. There she had to
do hard work, get np before day, bring water,
make the fires, cook and wash. Moreover, the
sisters would annoy her all sorts of ways, make
game of her, and throw her peas and beans into
the ashes, so that she had to sit and pick them
out. At niglit, when sho was tired with work,
there was no bed for her to lie do\\'n on, but she
must sleep on the hearth in the ashes ; and when
they saw her smutty and dirty, in consequence,
they called her Ashenputtcl.
One day the father was to. go to the fair, and
he asked his two step-daughters what he should
bring them home. "Fine clothes," said one —
"pearls and diamonds," said tlic other. "But
you, Ashenputtcl," said he, " what will you
have'?" "Father, the first branch that strikes
you upon the hat, as you ride towards home,
bring me that." He bouglit for the two step-
sisters fine clothes, pearls and diamonds ; and on
Jiis way home, as he rode through a green lane,
a hazel-twig .4trurk liim on the head and knocked
his hat ofJ". He broke oil" the twig and brought
it with him. When he arrived at homo, he gave
to the step-sisters wliat they had rcipiestcd of
jiim, and to Ashenputtcl he gave the twig of tlio
ha/,cl bush. Ashenputtcl tluvnkcd him, and went
toiler mother's grave and planted the hazel twig
on it, and cried so that the twig was wet with
her tears. It grew fast and became a fine tree.
Ashenputtcl went every day three times a day
to visit it, and cried and jiraycd ; and every time
there came a lifllc bird lo the tree, and llio bird
tJirew her down wliatevcr she wished.
It so happened that the king was to make a
feast that was to last three days, and to which
all the pretty young women in the country were
to be invited, that his son might choose a bride.
The two step-sisters when tlicy heard that they
were to go, were in high spirits, called Ashcn-
puttel and said : " Comb our hair, brush our
shoes, fix our buckles ; we are going to the hall
at the king's castle." Ashenputtcl heard them
talk about it, and could not help crying, .she
wanted so much to go with them to the ball;
and she asked her stepmother to give her per-
mission. " You, Ashenputtcl, full of dust and
smut!" said she; " ijoii want to go to the ball,
and have got no dress ! i/ou want to dance, and
liave got no shoes !" When she kept asking
her, she said at last : " There, I have thrown a
liowl of peas into the ashes, and if you pick out
the peas in two hours, you may go with us."
The little girl went out of the back door into the
garden, and said : " Come pigeons, come turtle-
doves, and all the birds of the air, come and
help me pick '?
"Put the good ones in the tray.
And the test you may have for your pay."
Then came flying through the kitchen window,
two white pigeons, and then the turtle-doves,
and at last, all tlie birds in the air came whirring
and swarming in, and lighted down among the
ashes. And the pigeons bobbed their little heads
up and down, and went pick, pick, pick, pick ;
and the other birds did the same with their
pick, pick, pick, pick, and soon put all the good
peas into the tray. Before one hour was passed,
they had finished the whole, and all flew away.
So the little girl brought the tray to her step-
motlier, pleased and full of hope that now she
might be permitted to go to the ball. But she
said : " No, Ashenputtcl, you can't go with us ;
you have got no dress, and can't dance." When
she began to cry, her mother said : " If you can
pick me two bowls of peas out of the ashes in an
hour, you may go with us;" for she thought
with herself — " That she will never do." So
she threw two howlfuls of jjcas into the ashes.
But the little girl went out of the back door into
the garden, and said : " Come pigeons, come
turtle-doves, and all tlic birds of the air, com.e
and help me pick?
" The good ones in the tray,
And the rest for your pay,"
Then came flying through the kitchen window,
two white pigeons, and then the turtle-doves, and
at last, all the birds in the air came whirring and
swarming in, and lighted down among the ashes.
And the pigeons bobbed their little heads up and
down, and went pick, pick, pick, pick; and the
other birds did the same with their piciv, pick,
pick, pick, and soon put all the good peas into
the tray. And before a half hour was past they
had finished the whole, and all flew away. So
the little girl brought the tray to lier step-moth-
er, pleased, and full of hope that now she might
be permitted to go to the ball. But she said:
" There is no help for it, you cannot go ; for you
have no dress, and cannot dance, and we cannot
have you disgrace us." So she turned her back
upon her, and went off, taking her two proud
daughters with her.
When there was no one left in the house,
Ashenputtcl went to lier mother's grave, and
stood under the liazel tree, and said :
" Little tree, rustle thee,
Shed gold and silver over me."
Then the bird threw her down a golden and a
silver dress, and a pair of slippers, worked with
silk and silver. So she put the dress on and
went to the ball. Her sisters and step-mother
did not know her, and ihought she must surely
be some foreign king's daughter, so splendidly
did she look iti her golden dress. Of Ashenput-
tcl they never once thought, but supposed she
was at home, asleep in the ashes. The king's
son came up to her, took her by the hand and
danced with her. He would not dance with any
one else, and did not let go her hand ; and wlicn
any one approached to lead her out, he said :
" This is ntt/ partner."
She danced till it grew late, and she wished to
go home, T!ic king's son said : " I will wait
u])on you home," for he wanted to see where tho
beautiful maiden belonged. But she darted
away from him, and sprang into the i)igcon-
house. So he waited till her father came, and
said to him that the strange maiden had jumj)ed
into the pigeon-house. Then thought he — " Can
it be Ashenputtcl?" And^they had axes and
hatchets brought, and split tlie pigeon-bouse in
two; but there was no one therein. And when
they got home, there lay Aslicnputtcl in her
sooty clotlics, in the ashc*, and a dim lamp was
burning in the chimney corner — for Ashenputtcl
sprung (juickly out of tlic back of the pigeon-
liousc, ran to the luizcl tree, where she took off
her fine clothes and laid them on the grave, and
the bird carried them away ; and she put on her
old gray frock, and lay down on the kitchen
hearth.
The second day it happened pretty much in
the same way. She danced with the king's son
all the time ; and when he wanted to see her
home, she slipped away from him, and got home
as before, without any one seeing her.
The third day, when the parents and sisters
had gone, Ashenputtcl went to the grave, and
said :
" Little tree, rustle thee,
Shed gold and silver over me."
Then tlie bird threw her down a dress the most '
splendid that ever was seen, and the slippers
were all of gold. Wlien she got to the ball, all
the people knew not what to say for astonish-
ment. The king's son danced with no one but
her ; and when any one else asked her out, he
spoke up and said : " She is my partner."
When it was evening, Ashenputtcl wanted
to go home, and the king's son proposed to go
with her; but she sprang away from him so
quick that he could not follow. But the king's
son had contrived a plan, and had all the stairs
covered with pitch, so that one of Ashenputtel's
slippers was left sticking in it. The king's son
took it up. It was very small and delicate, and
all of gold. Next morning he went to Ashen-
puttel's father, and said no other lady should be
liis bride, but the one on whose foot the slipper
would tit. The two sisters were pleased enough
to hear this, for they had pretty feet. The old-
est went with the shoe to her chamber to try it
on, and her mother stood by. She got in her
whole foot except the great toe, but could by no
means get that in — the shoe was too small. So
her mother reached her a knife and said : " Cut
off the toe ; when you get to be ipteen, you will
not have to go on foot." The girl cut the toe
off, and crowded her foot into the shoe, bore the
pain as she could, and went out to the king's
son. He took her for his bride, and set her on
his horse and rode away. On their way they
passed by the grave, where sat the two pigeons
on the hazel tree, and cried :
" Ivoobe de gook, rooke de gook.
There is blood in the shook (shoe) ;
The shoe does not fit —
The true bride is not found yet."
Then he looked down at her foot, and saw it
was dripping with blood. So he turned his
horse round, brouglit back the false bride to the
house again, and said this was not the riglit one,
the other must try on the slipper. So she went
into her chamber and easily got lier toes into it,
but her heel was too large. Her mother handed
her a knife, and said : " Cut off a piece of the
heel; when you get to be queen, you will not
have to go on foot " The girl cut off a piece of
the heel, crowded her foot into the shoe, bore
the pain as well as she could, and went out to
the king's son. He took her for his bride, and
set her on his horse and rode away. When they
came to the hazel tree, there sat the two pigeons
and sung :
" llooke de gook, rooke de gook,
There is blood in the shook ;
The shoe does not fit —
The true bride is not found yet."
He looked down at her foot and saw it was
dripping with blood, and her white stockings
were all stained with red. So he turned his
horse round, and brought back the false bride to
the house again. " This, too, is not the right
one," said he; "have you any other daughter'.'"
" No," said the father, " only little Ashenputtcl,
my dead wife's daughter, and she cannot possibly
be the true bride." The king's son said he
wished her to be sent for. The mother exclaim-
ed : " O, no, she is too dirty ; I cannot let her be
seen." But he would have it so, and Ashen-
puttcl had to be called. She washed her hands
and fiice clean, went in and made her curtsy to
the king's son, who handed her the golden slip-
])er. She slipped oH' her clumsy shoe from her
left foot, put the golden slipper to it, drew it a
little, and stood up in it, as if it luul grown to
her foot. When she took it off, he looked her in
the face, and said : " This is the true bride."
The step-mother and the two sisters were con-
founded, and pale with vexation; but he took
Aslicnputtcl to the horse, and rode off with her.
AVlicn they passed by the liazel bush, the two
white pigeons sung :
" Itooke dc Kook, rooke do gook,
No blood in the hhook ;
The shoe 1h not too sniall —
Tliu true bride after all."
And when thoy had sung so. they came flying
and .sat upon Ashenputtel's shoulders — one on
the right and the otiier on the left — and tlicrc
they staid.
When the wedding feast was celebrated, came
the two sisters, flattering and fawning, to have
their share of the good luck. When the bridal
party went to the church, tlic eldest sister was
on the right side and the youngest on tlie left,
and the pigeons picked out the eye of each of
them that was nearest. Afterwards, when they
went home, the eldest was on the left hand and
the youngest was on the right, and the pigeons
picked out the other eye of each of them. So,
for their cruelty and falsehood, they were pun-
ished with blindness all the days of their life.
[Written for Gleaeon'e Pictorial.]
THE S31ILE OF ONE WE LOVE-
BY ANNIE MOTT.
Of what avail is wealth ! even to dwell
In lordly halls, with gUttcring domes above,
Would be in splendid misery to live,
Without the sweet, fond smile of one we love.
This world may wear its darkest, fiercest frown,
And threatening storm-clouds grimly float above ;
Yet they alarm us not, if we but have
To cheer us, the fond smile of one we love.
And care and misery their deadly weight,
With chilling hands may lay upon our head j
And want, with its attendant honors, come.
And darkly hover o'er humble bed.
And health may flee, and fell disease may come
AVith overpowering strength, and lay us low ;
Yet e'en mid sickness, poverty and care,
Tho smile of one we love will cure our wo.
WHICH IS THE HAPPIEST SEASON 7
At a festal party of old and young, the ques-
tion was asked : " Which season of life is the
most happy V After being freely discussed by
the guests, it was referred for answer to the hosl,
upon whom was the burden of fourscore years.
He asked if they had noticed a grove of trees be-
fore the dwelling, and said : " When the spring
comes, and in the soft air the buds are breaking
on the trees, and they are covered with blossoms,
I think. How beautiful is sprinf/ ! And when the
summer comes, and covers the trees with its
heavy foliage, and singing birds are among tho
branches, I think, Z/ou' haauliful is summer !
When the autumn loads them with golden fruit,
and their leaves bear the gorgeous tint of frost,
I tliink, How hcaulifid is aufumn! And when it
is sere winter, and there is neither foliage nor
fruit, then I look up through the leafless branch-
es, as I never could until now, and see the stars
shine." — Sharpe's Magazine.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AN ACROSTIC.
BY JOSEPH H. BDTLEB.
E niblem of beauty I sweet rose of the bower I
M ay thy opening bosom be wet with the sliower ;
M ay thy fragrance be lasting— thy beauties abide
Around the green wood-walks of Flora's gay pride.
It ut frail art thou, rose ! and fragile thy form,
U nable to flourish in darkness and storm ;
Twine, then, thy eweet buds in the chaplets of love,
L ong the emblem of beauty and sweetness to prove ;
Even withered, thy leaves will a fragrance display,
Kising ever like virtue in beauty's decay!
GLANCES.
The short hasty gazes cast up any day in tho
midst of business, in a dense city, at the heavens,
or at a bit of tree seen amid buildings have in
them more of intense appreciation of the beauties
of nature than all that has been felt by an equal
number of sight-seers enjoying large opjiortuni-
ties of sight-seeing, and all their time to them-
selves. These gazes at nature have something
beautiful in them. — Companions ofvuj iSolilude.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO AUTUMN.
All hail I sober Autumn, lovely nuiid I
I love thy garb of russet hue j
I love to haunt thy leaf-strewn glade,
When deep impearlod with morning dow.
■Wliat though thou boast no blooming rose.
No vivid green, no summer's glare ;
Thy calmness yields to mind repose,
And bid'st thy beauties blossom thoru.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
215
[Written for Gloason's Pictorial.]
JOY AMID SORROW.
Bf CALMUS HORTESCOE.
Vice is attended with temporary felicity, piety with
eternal joy.— Bayard.
There is a joy at sorrow'a shrine,
Which even death cannot dispel :
Assuaging grief, it calms the mind
Acknowledging its mystic spell !
It is a pure, a holy joy.
Subservient to a pious heart :
It comes — the gift which angels send —
It comes — the theme which they impart.
It is a flame of heavenly fire,
Whose presence melts the coldest knave ;
It Ijurus its incense from on high,
Emitting hope beyond the gruve.
On earth it turns the path of vice,
It moves athwart the sluggard's way ;
Where Death had drawn his sceptre o'er,
It holds in peace its solemn sway.
It has no share in sin's cold heart,
So rendered by the wiles of earth ;
By them alone its balm is felt,
Who revel not in carnal mirth.
It lifts aloft the soul from hence,
Prepares us here for time to come ;
Infers the reconciling thought,
Thiit He shall claim us through his Son.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. IV.
CONSTANTINOPLE.
BY BK. JEROME V. C- SMITK,
ADTUOa OF A "PILGRIMAGE TO EGYPT. "
If Paris is France, then Constantinople is
Turkey. In all its details, it is an anomaly. Its
location is unsurpassed in beauty — both land
and water are so connected as to enhance the
loveliness of the scenery beyond that of any other
city on the globe. For commerce — situated be-
tween the Black Sea and tiie Mediterranean,
with that transcendently splendid link in the
aquatic chain, the Bosphorus, swarming with
caiques, steamers and ships from every clime —
Constantinople has no parallel.
[For view of Constantinople, Seraglio Point, sec page 224.]
If any one spot is destined to become the
principal mart of the whole world, in after ages,
it will be there. But these are reveries, and I
shall speak, therefore, of what it is, and not what
it may be when the Anglo-Saxons spread them-
selves over the cast — as they surely will — and
the races now ia the occupancy of the garden of
Asia Minor, pass away into utter forgetfulness.
Nan-ow lanes, badly paved, or not paved at all,
running irregularly everywhere, without names,
and never lighted at night, arc gloomy and for-
bidding at dark.
Constantinople is strangely walled, and en-
tered from various points, both from the country
and the water, through gates that bear signili-
cant names. Without special care in passing
through any one of them, on account of being
thrown wide open, they would escape observa-
tion. Here is the Bagdsche Xi^apussi, known as
the route taken by ambassadors on their way to
au(3ieuccs. The Batikbassar Kapussi, command-
ing the tish market, near a celebrated boat land-
ing ; that of Edrene, or Gate of Adianople, wliich
under another name is known to have existed in
the year 625 — the epoch of a famous siege in the
reign of the Hcraclius. A celebrated church
at that period stood near, held in peculiar rever-
ence by the Greeks, on account of containing a
chest in which the priests taught the people to
believe were the garments worn by the Virgin
Mary. In all Constantinople there arc nearly
thirty gates, but far from being in good condi-
tion and wUuIq not offer much resistance to a
rabble disposed to force a way into the city.
A history of its origin, and the extraordinary
changes through which it 1ms passed since it
was taken from the Greeks, may be found in
various writings ; hence a rehearsal of them here
would be unnecessary. At present, it is an im-
mense city, having three centres — points where
the buildings are wedged together very com-
pactly, and principally constructed of inflam-
mable materials. When a fire breaks out, a
desolating conflagration invariably follows, be-
cause the inhabitants have none of the apparatus
of civilized countries for controlling or subduing
it, nor the discipline, energy or interest to make
an effort. So it crackles and burns, the sparks
fly, the wind wafts the blazing clapboards through
the air, and away they go, propagating teiTor
and destruction, till everything combustil)le is
converted into ashes all the way to a clear field.
When nothing more remains in the wake of the
flames, the fire dies out; and the calmly smoking
spectators, seated on cushions to watch the
raging element, raise their optics devoutly to the
sky, puff a long ribbon whiff of smoke, and as
it goes curling towards the zenith, exclaim :
" Bismillah !" — God is great!
A large proportion of all the inhabited liouses
arc of wood, two or three stories bigli. An im-
mense consumption of lumber, therefore, is de-
manded to rebuild after every conflagration, to
construct new and keep in repair the wliolc.
Teams cannot be employed to haul it through
the cramped streets, and the people have inge-
niously resorted to the following method of con-
veying materials to the places where they are
required. Half a dozen boards, for example,
are tied at one end, as fagots are bound, which
are lashed to the shoulders of a donkey, balanced
by an equal number on the opposite side. Thus
they go dragging them along, to the imminent
danger of the toes of all they pass.
In every direction there seems to be a never-
ending procession of asses buried up in the load,
the extremity of which, spread out like a fan on
the ground, sweeps and scratches the passage as
they move. The effect is ludicrous wlien ob-
served for the first time ; but a stranger soon be-
comes accustomed to the oddities of everyday
life in Constantinople, which are the antipodes
of common economy everywhere out of Turkey.
No door has a name upon it ; and if it had,
nobody could understand it, for not one in many
thousands can read a syllable cither of their own
or any other language — and worse still, it is ex-
tremely difticult to pronounce a native cogno-
men when it is known. Runners meet travellers
and recommend certain lodging places oa ac-
count of being fire-proof. Myself and a few
countrymen deposited ourselves at Pera — one of
the three divisions of the city in which foreigners
principally reside — in a salamander house; but
lo, it turned out that the kitchen was enclosed in
a stone box, secured with iron doors, and not
our apartments ! The proprietors provide their
customers something to eat, if they have no
where to sleep.
Burying yards, great and small, being of va-
rious dimensions, are in the very heart of some
of the densely settled parts — evolving incalcu-
lable amounts of nephitic gases destructive to
tlic public health. Those immediately on the
verge of the town, beginning in Pera, where the
houses stop, arc kept perpetually damp and un-
wholesome by thickets of tall gloomy cypresses
that exclude the sun's rays ; and thus pestilence
is generated, and death starts a mission of un-
heard-of mortality, every few years.
The wonder may well be entertained why
Constantinople has not been depopulated.
Plague, dogs, graveyai'ds and universal out-door
nastiness, however, have found their match with
the Turks.
Oddity is impressed on whatever one sees;
and yet these smoking, salaming, bucksheish-
coveting disciples of Mahommed have their
comforts and conveniences in their own way,
which is more than we have always in a free
goveiTiment. It is a crime to be very rich, for
money is a weapon of which the rulers are in
fear.
Some of the Armenian bankers have hereto-
fore been Iionorcd with a silk Iialter, or had their
heads chopped off" without an apology, because
the state stood in need of replenished coffers.
In the cemetery of Balykly is a marble box,
bearing an inscription illustrative of what has
often been done in the way of murdering a man
for his property. It is in Armenian, which
translated, reads thus :
" Here reposes the mortal remains of Erzan-
yan Aretin, banker to the Sublime Porte. His
virtues were resplendent as the gold he had
amassed by industry and fair dealing. His
charity was boundless, his word inviolable, and
his piety transcendent. He gave to all and owed
to none. He bade adieu to his weeping family
upon the 7th of July, 1795, trusting to Almighty
Grace, and blessing the hand that opened for
him the gates of paradise."
If a Turk has an establishment — and a harem
adds to the reputation of a gentleman, as it is an
evidence of means — it is equivalent to keeping a
coach in Christendom. In other words, position
is evci'ything, and this is one way they estimate
it. A man's good name or fame, without money
or women, would not give him the society of a
donkey. With the first, the second grand cle-
ment of distinction can be purchased at the
Yessir Bazary.
The bazaars, the shops, the bakers, the food
sold in the streets, the cut of the garments, the
veiled females gliding about in yellow boots, the
grave deportment of most of the faces met, the
singularity of the customs that are discoverable
at every corner, the magnificence of some edifi-
ces and the wretchedness of others, the mosques,
the stillness — save when the muezzins call to
prayers from the tall slender minarets — take a
strong hold of the stranger. He sees that the
genius of Mahommedanism cannot live on terras
of friendship with pure Christianity.
Probably there may be very inviting cafes, but
we never saw one that was not begrimmed by
smoke, and filthy from the perpetual lounging
habits of the unceasing smokers. Coffee is
served in cups scarcely larger than half an egg-
shell, black, thick and strong, without cream or
sugar. One of tlic amusements consists in listen-
ing to professed story-tellers, while puffing at
their long pipes — which a Turk seems always to
have in his mouth. ]f the actor, for such it is,
possesses a tact, he carries his auditors through
every shade of feeling, from sympathy to rage.
Some of the performers are distinguished for
talents in the line of their vocation.
Another amusement of the coffee-rooms is to
have a male dancer introduced, who bears a faint
resemblance to an unveiled female, who rants,
rattles his castanets, and cuts such ungraceful
antics, as would disgust more refined spectators.
[See engmviug on page 224.]
Readers of botanical works are familiar with
the history of the discovery of coffee, its intro-
duction into the system of Oiiental diatetics and
subsequent diffusion over the whole habitable
globe ; but it may nevertheless be interesting to
present an epitome of the circumstances attend-
ing its advent, for the purpose of showing the
struggle in which the Mabommedan rulers were
fiercely engaged for a long while, in vainly at-
tempting to prevent it from being used by the
true believers. It reminds us of the herculean
cfibrts of King James against tobacco. Both
were abortive, although set on foot and main-
tained with unremitting severity by the deter-
mined spirit of despots.
Sometime about the year 1258, of our era, a
dervish called Hadji Omer, for some at present
unknown cause, was driven out of the community
at Mocca,byhis brethren. Hunger induced him
to roast the Kalihva berries growing spontane-
ously about a lonely retreat where he had hidden
himself. It seems that the plant was familiar,
from having a name, but the virtues of the fruit
never suspected. He was compelled to cook
them by roasting, as the only means of sustain-
ing life, cut off from all other resources. Steep-
ing them in the water that quenched his thirst,
lie discovered very agreeable qualities, and also
that the infusion was nearly equal to solid food.
In the meanwhile, those who had expelled
him from the common domicile, in their wander-
ings, came to the retreat of the dervish, whom
they supposed to have died of starvation long
before. They surprised Omer in the act of
preparing his newly-discovered beverage. Of
course, they tasted it, were delighted, and on
their return gave an account of the miraculous
manner in whicii he had been sustained. This
led to further experiments, the restoration of
Omer to good fellowship, and also to the per-
sonal consideration of the sheik or governor of
Mocca. Omer turned out a bad fellow in the
cod; yet he was properly transmuted into a
saint, and his memory is held in peculiar venera-
tion as a pious man and a benefactor to man-
kind.
Not far from 1555, some Arabians opened a
shop in the bazaar at Constantinople for the
sale of coffee, which appears to have been sold
ready for drinking, in a small way, previously.
This preparation for meeting the demand for a
new luxury, roused the anger of the Mufti.
Murad IV. joined in a fanatical crusade against
it, because the true faith anathematized whatever
had been charred or coaled, as an article of
food. Coffee rooms rapidly increased, however,
for it met an unsatisfied appetite. It is now im-
possible to form any just estimate of the con-
sumption of coflce in Constantinople. There arc
computed to be three thousand rooms set apart
for the indulgence of coffee-drinkers — smoking
being the legitimate accompaniment.
llcbellions, conspiracies and iiti-ocious crimes
against the lives of pashas, court favorites, and
even the Sultans, have been so ficquently con-
cocted in these universal haunts of the citizens,
that they arc watched with eagle vigilance by
the police. The plan for the destruction of Os-
man II., 1G17, wlio was strangled by the Jani-
zaries at the age of nineteen, originated in a
coffee room. He was a contemporary with King
James I. of England. Since the murder of that
turbulent body of soldiers, who made or de-
throned Sultans at their pleasure, no apprehen-
sions from tliat source are entertained. No Sul-
tan ever felt secure a single moment in his pal-
ace, while the Janizaries were in existence.
Mahmoud II. had the boldness to conceive, and
the energy to accomplish, their thorough de-
struction ; and his son Megid, therefore, is the
first of the long line of Turkish emperors who
has had nothing to fear from the sudden popular
outbreaks from his own soldiers in the capital of
the empire.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LEONORA TO TASSO.
BY ELLEN LOUISE CHANDLER.
'■'■I fain would dream of thecP''
Come to mj^ dreams, teloved I The moon is Uigb,
AnJ the bright "fire-eyed stars," from out the sky,
Are gazing at her pale face sailing by.
Come to my dreams \ and smile, and kiss me now,
With such a kiss as, whilome, blessed my brow,
While we eat trembling at our first love vow.
Come to my dreams ! and gaze in these fond eyes,
That once thou saidst were bluer than the skies.
And thrilled thy heart like gleams from Paradise 1
Come to my dreams ? If those blue eyes have grown
Dim, 'tis with weary watchingw, sad and lone,
TJncheercd by echo of thy faintest tone.
Come to my dreams, beloved I Thou wilt ! I hear
Thy low voice murmuriug love-words in my ear,
"VYliile I grow mute with bliss so deep, so dear I
SCENERY AT HOME Al^U ABROAD.
The contrasts between the Old and New World
are not confined to the results of art. Around
the congregated dwellings of both hemispheres
is spread the varied scenery of nature ; and the
sojourner, if he be not an inveterate worldling,
has been wont to repair thither for solace and
refreshment. Yet how different are the em-
blems of her benignant presence from those to
which he has been accustomed ! At home he
gazed upon the flowing stream, whose greatest
charm is its bright hue and crystal clearness ;
in this distant region he roams beside a turbid
river, only attractive from the events of which
it has been the scene, or the classic legend which
arrays it in fictitious glory. At home his eye
rested upon cottages of wood, with orchards be-
side them, vegetable gardens in the rear, and
Inird by the long well-pole poised in tlie air ; now
he beholds the peasant's cottage of stone, and
the olive, aloe, Indian fig, or grape vine, con-
stitute the verdure around it. There the little
belfry of the village school rose conspicuous ;
here the open shrine of some local saint. There
the forest outspread in wild majesty ; here the
campagna sti'ctches in peaceful undulations.
There the chirp of the cricket announces the
close of day ; here the tinkling bell of the re-
turning mules, and Ave Marias stealing on the
breeze, usher in the evening. There many an
uninvited haunt repays the wanderer with ro-
mantic dreams ; here the spell of some ruined
temple entrances his fancy with hours of retro-
spective musing. Still nature's votary feels that
the same gentle companionship is with him, and
recognizes the invisible spirit of the universe en-
deared by communion in another land; for there
is a well-known voice with wliich she greets her
children in evcr}^ clime. — Tuckcnnan's Sicily.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.
BV S. HEKEy.
Be Still, my eoul I thy weary longings cease !
Nor seek from cankering care a fall release I .
Night, with its shadows and its stillness deep,
Brings not the rest of quiet, soothing sleep
To those for whom the hours of day come fraught
Only with trifling sport, or yet more trifling thought ;
But to the couch of him, the weary man,
The dark clad goddess leads her starry band;
While dreams and thoughts of hope their homage pay.
And all their beauty lend to lighten liibor's sway ;
E^en thus the rest of heaven is set apart,
But for the lowly and the meek in heart ;
And thou, my soul, if earnest unto prayer,
Shalt greet thy Saviour, thy Redeemer thei-e ;
Shalt join the " blood-washed throng," and \Tith them sing,
■'■ Most holy, holy, is our Lord and King ;"
Casting thy golden crown his throne before,
Forevermore !— even forevei-more !
"VVe all get wrong from the moment that we
forget that this world is not our rest. Midnight
is not a more effectual sbrond of the landscape,
than unbelief for divine things, when it interposes
between them and our souls.
216
GLEASON'S nCTOUIAL DTIAWING llOOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF THE TOWN OF PLYMOUTH, MASS., FROM THE GOTHIC BURYING-GROUND.
SCENES IN PliVMOUTH, MASS.
It is not necessary for us to ^^o into a detailed
account of the indacements that actuated our
forefathers in coming to this country. The spirit
that moved the Pilgrims who landed at Ply-
niouth, Dec. 11th, 1620, is doubtless well known
to the readers of our paper. Our first view is
that of the town of Plymouth, taken from the
Gothic burial ground, and here let us remark,
that we are hirgoly indebted in the annexed de-
scription to a very interesting and excellent book
entitled "A Guide to Plymouth "Village," by
Wm. S. Russell, No persons visiting the town
should fail to possess
themselves of a copy of
this instructive and in-
teresting pocket com-
panion. The Indian
name of Plymouth was
Umparae, written Apa-
um, in the colony rec-
ords, and still so called
by the natives of Massa-
pee. It was also called
Patttxet. The bounds of
Plymouth were deter- '
mined by the Colony
Court, in the year 1640,
of which the following
is a description: "It is
enacted and concluded
by the Court, that the
bounds of Plymouth
township shall extend
southward to the bounds
of Sandwich townshiji ;
and northward toaHtile
brook, running from
Stephen Tracy's to ano-
ther little brook falling
into Blackwater; from
the commons left to
Duxbury, and the neigh-
borhood thereabout ;
and westward eight
miles up into the land,
from any part of the bay
or sea ; always provided
that the bounds shall ex-
tend so far up into the
wood lands as to include
the south meadows to-
wards Agawam, lately
discovered, and the con-
venient uplands there-
about.'* These bounds
were quite extensive,
comprising what have
since become Plympton,
in 1707, Kingston, in
1726, and part of Ware-
ham, w th Carver, taken
from Plympton, and a
part of Halifax, in 1734,
also taken from Plymp-
ton. It is about sixteen
miles in extent, from
north to south, and va-
ries from four and a half
to nine in width. Ply-
mouth is built along the
seashore, upon a moderate declivity descending
from an extensive pine plain, about one fouith
of a mile broad, and one and a half miles in
length.
ni-GRIM HALL.
The corner stone of this edifice, containing
historical inscriptions, was laid Sept. 1, 1824,
with religious ceremonies. This monumental
edifice is situated on Court street; it is about
seventy by forty feet, constructed of unwrought
split granite, in a plain and substantial mode of
architecture, contains a dining room on the base-
ment, and a spacious hall above. The ground
on which it stands was a part of the extensive
estate of Mr. Thomas Southworth, in 1668, and
is probably comprised within the " four acres
given him by his motiicr, Mrs. Alice Bradford,"
relict of Gov. Bradford. AVlicn Plymouth was
first planted, there was a north and south common
field, for tillage, for several years, on either side
of the town, near the shore. This falls within
the " north field," and probably within the stock-
ade and palisadoes of nearly half a mile in com-
pass. Just below it, abutting on " the shore,
were the six acre brick kiln field," of the first
planters. The eastern prospect from it is inttr-
THE PILGLIIM I'ALL, PLYMOUTH.
esting, bringing into view the harbor, the near
shores of Duxbury and Marshfield, the highlands
of Manomet, the ocean, and occasionally in the
summer, the looming cliffs of Cape Cod — the
first resting place of the Pilgrims. The Pilgrim
Hall, which is now fitted up in a manner con-
venient and appropriate, for the reception of in-
teresting memorials connected with the Pilgrims,
contains the following, among other attractions
to the antiquarian visitor; The Landing of the
Fathers in 1 620, painted by the late Henry Sar-
gent, Eiq., of Boston, and generously presented
by him to the Pilgrim Society. It was valued
atS3000. The gilt frame
was purchased by the
Pilgrim Society, with
funds raised by subscrip-
tion, and cost about four
hundred dollars. It is
13 by 16 feet. The fol-
lowing individuals are
represented in the paint-
ing, attired in the cos-
tume of their time. 1st.
Governor Carver and his
wife and children. 2d.
Governor Bradford. 3d.
GovernorWinslow. 4ih.
Wife of Governor Wins-
low. 5tb. Mr. William
Brewster, the Elder of
Leydcn Church. 6th.
^^ Captain Miles Standish.
7th. Mr. William White,
and his child Peregrine.
6th. Mr. Isaac Allcrton
and his wife. 9rli. Mr.
JohnAIden. 10th. Mr.
John Turner, llih. Mr.
Stephen Hopkins, his
wife and children. 12ih.
Mr. Richard Warren.
13ih. Mr. Edward Tel-
lev. 14th. Mr. Samuel
Puller. 15lh. Wife of
Captain Standish. 16th.
Samosct, an Indian Sag-
amore or Lord. 17th.
Mr. John Howland, son-
in-law of Governor Car-
ver. This picture is cop-
ied by our artist, and
appears on the opposite
page. The painting is
l>y far thebcrtwoik that
has ever emanated from
Mr. Sai gent's hands, and
is one of the most elab-
orate and pcifcct pic-
tuics of the characrcr
now in thciountry. No
reader of the Pictorial
should visit Pl^^mou'h
without seeing it, bring-
ing as it does before ihe
eye so vivid a retrospect
of old-lime scenes and
of the sacrifices of the
noble men who were so
rnn>.)iicuous actors in
them.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
217
The Forefathers' Eock,
60 attractive to the curi-
osity of visitors, except-
ing that part of it which
is now enclosed within
the railinfr in front of
Pilgrim Hall, as repre-
sented by our artist be-
low, retains the same
position it occupied more
than two hundred years
ago, when the founders
of New England tirst
landed on our shores,
and introduced the arts
of civilization, the insti-
tutions of religion, civil
government and educa-
tion, upon the basis of
just and equal rights,
which from that memor-
able day to the present
time, have secured the
general good of the
whole community, to an
extent probably unex-
ampled in any equal pe-
riod of human experi-
ence. " It is not a little
curious that one loose
rock on the shore of
Plymouth harbor,shpuld
have become so famous
as is that called the
* Pilgrim Rock,' where
there is not known in
the township a single
ledge save those the lish-
crman reaches with his
lead at various points of
the coast. ' Pilgrim
Rock' is one of these
boulders — itself an older
pilgrim than those who
landed on it. It is an
extremely hard variety
of sienilic granite, of a
dark gray color. The
mica is in very small
quantity, in fine black
particles. The rock, by
its rounded edges, bears
evidence of its rolled
character, as well as of
the attempts to break
specimens from it; which
fortunately its extreme
hardness renders seldom
successful. This rock
is now iu two pieces,
each piece about four
feet through." That
part now at the water's
side is about six and a
half feet in diameter, and
is situated on the souih side of the store now oc-
cupied by Phinehas Wells, at the head of Hedjje's
wharf, a few feet only from the same. Besides
the general and undisputed tradition which div
signates it as that on which the fiuhers landed, it
was ascirtaiaed to be the same on an interesting
COPY OF SARGENT d PAINTING OF THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS, IN PILGRIM HALL.
occasion in the life of Elder Thomas Faunce, the
last ruling elder in the first church of Plymouth,
who was born in the year 1646, and died in the
year 1745, at the advanced age of ninety-nine
years. In the year 1741, the elder upon learning
that a wharf was about to be built near, or over
the rock, which up to that period had kept its
undisturbed- position at the water's edge, and
fearing that the march of improvement might
subject it to injury, expressed much uneasiness.
Though residing three miles from the village of
Plymouth, and then in declining health, he lefc
home, and in the pres-
ence of many citizens,
pointed out the rock we
have described as being
that on which the Pil-
grims with whom he was
cotemporary, and well
acquainted, had uniform-
ly declared to be the
same on which they
landed in 1620. Upon
this occasion this vener-
able and excellent man
took a final leave of this
cherished memorial of
of the fathers. The cir-
cumstances above rela-
ted, were frequently men-
tioned by the late Hon.
Ephraim Spooner, de-
ceased, who was present
upon the occasion also
with Elder Faunce. He
was deacon of the church
of Plymouth forty one
years, and fifty-two years
town clerk, and died
March, 1 81 8, aged eighty-
thi'cc years. The same
information was com-
municated by Jlrs. Jo-
ana White, widow of
Gideon White, deceased,
who was intimately ac-
quainted in the family
of Elder Faunce. Khe
died in 1810, aged nine-
ty-five years. And the
same account has been
transmitted by other
aged persons, now dead,
within the recollection
of many now living. On
the anniversary celebra-
tion of the landing of
the fathers, in 1817, the
late Rev. Horace Holly,
deceased, delivered the
customary address, and
upon the morning of
that day had some hours'
conversation with Dea-
con Spooner,above men-
tioned, in relation to
early times, and among
other interesting remin-
iscences learned from
him the incidents above
narrated. For many
years Deacon Spooner
had been accustomed to
read the hymn " Hail
Pilgrims," line by line,
according to an antient
practice of the cliurL-h,
and on this occasion officiated for the last time.
Mr. liolly^ inspired by his interview, in the course
of his address, happily observed, "our venerable
friend knew and conversed with Elder Faunce,
who personally knew the first settlers, as Polycarp
conversed with St. John, the beloved disciple."
THE PILGRIM ROCK^ AT PLVMOUTHj MASS.
218
GLEASON'S nCTOllIAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
[Writton ibr GltisiHon's IMctoriiil.]
SPIRIT VISITANTS.
BY E. CURTISS lUNB, U. B. N.
Wlion the goldon Hun in Petting
Lchiiid tho w«8tern liillfi,
Aud tho duw tho grass ia wotting,
And tho music of tho i-illfl
rills tho heart with a dreitniy eadnosB,
Then Rpirit-lbrmB ivill coum,
Thrilling tho soul vith gliidnoss,
Ab they tell of thuir radiant homo.
Gone ai'o tho pangs of sorrowj
When tlieso angol forms are nigh ;
Swcot are tho tones they horrow,
And Boft luj a maiden's E^igh ;
Uright arc their pinions shining,
And fair as the glorioua sky,
Tho painted and beautiful Uniug
Of tho cloak of immon»ity.
Thus do tbo dear departed
Hover beside our way,
The ti"uo and noble hearted
Have loft us not for aye ;
But anxious for us over,
Iteturu to their place of birth,
Eoluctant still to Bover
i'rom the friends they loved on earth.
[Written for Glcason's Pietorial.]
THE OLD ALCHEMIST.
A TALE OF ENGLAND.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
In one of tlic narrow, dark streets of London,
stood a Ixouse, the quaint old overhanging gables
of which told that it was erected during the reign
of Elizabeth. Within a small room in the upper
story, to which tlie light was admitted through
a window in the roof, sat an old man, well ad-
vanced into the winter of life; and near him,
■with one elbow resting upon a rude bench, stood
a young, fair-haired girl. It was a curious sight
tliat was revealed to the gaze in that small apart-
ment. In one corner was a furnace, within
which a small bed of live coals was yet smoul-
dering, and upon either side stood numerous
crucibles of various sizes and patterns. The
walls were flanked with closets and shelves, with-
in and upon which stood phials, bottles, boxes,
cases, and paper parcels, all of them curiously
labelled and numbered. In one corner, upon a
pine table, lay a somewhat ■ complicated distil-
ling apparatus, with glass retorts, receivers, etc.,
some of whicli had apparently been recently
used ; and the peculiar atmosphere of the place
told that they had been operating npon strong
aromatic drugs.
The sun had sunk behind the neighboring
house-tops, and already the apartment of the old
alchemist began to assume a dusky shade, but
still the workman strained his eyes over his work,
and from his nervous movements, as he scraped
a white powder from the bottom and sides of a
small crucible, one might have seen that he was
anxious to accomplish the work he had in hand
before it became entirely dark.
"Father," said the girl, who had been anx-
iously watching the old man for some time,
" come, do put up your work for to-night. You
are already fatigued ; the darkness is coming on,
and besides, it is time we should have our
supper."
The girl spoke in a soft, persuasive tone, and
there was a peculiar earnestness in her manner
that evinced more than ordinary filial love and
solicitude. Walter Markton gazed up from his
work, and a quick light of fond affection shot
across his countenance as his eyes rested upon
his fair companion.
"I am not much fatigued, Ella," he said, as
he laid his scalpel upon the bench before him,
and wiped the sweat from his brow. " I must
prepare these powders to-night, for the surgeons
want them to-morrow."
"Then why not lay them aside, and finish
them in the morning 1 You will feel stronger
then."
" I am strong now, Ella."
As the old man thus spoke, he resumed his
work, and the fair girl watched him with a half
fearful expression. His very speech had be-
tokened that his strength was failing, and even
while he worked, his liands trembled beneath
the insidious touch of physical weakness. For
several moments, Ella watched him in silence,
but yet she seemed desirous of urging her point ;
and, at length, as the shades of deepening twi-
light began to verge towards more dusky night,
filie stepped sol'tly to the side of the alchemist,
and laid her small white hand upon his arm.
"You will not be oHcndcd, father," she said,
as she looked imploringly into the old nnui's
face.
"Ofiended?" iterated he. "You can do
notliing to offend me."
" Then why do you labor so unceasingly in
this conliucd hihoratory? You must be aware
that your constitution is giving wjiy. If you
cannot sec it, I can. Day by day have I watched
the gradual dimming of your eyes, and truly
have I marked tlie slow sinking of your checks.
There is a palior of ill taking the place of the
health-marks upon your features, and I fear me
that ere long even your own potent compounds
will not be able to restore you. Come, father,
give it up."
"No, no, my sweet child, I cannot. There is
not in all London another man who is so skilled
in preparing and mixing medicines as myself,
and the physicians pay me well for my labors.
I am not so weak as you think. I am strong."
" But there are others in the city who can pre-
pare medicines," said Ella.
" Yes ; that is true."
"And they can supply all that are needed."
"Perhaps so,"
" Tlien let them do it."
" All ! but the physicians pay me well for my
work."
The young girl bent her head, and the dim
light that struck upon the side of her face from
the windowed roof showed a troubled expression
upon her countenance. For several moments
she swept her delicate fingers around among the
dust that had collected upon the bench; but, at
length, she raised her eyes to the face of the old
man, and in a low tone she said :
"Pardon me, father ; but I feel sure that you
do not need the money the doctors pay you.
For years you have labored here, and you have
received considerable sums of money. I know
that you have not spent much, and unless I am
far out of the way in my calculations, you have
more than enough laid by to take care of you for
the rest of your days."
" I have been saving — almost penurious," re-
turned Walter Markton. " But tell me," he
continued, with a sudden start, "have you ever
suffered for the want of a single comfort '^'^
" No, no, dear father ; you have been over-
generous to me," quickly answered Ella. Then
she hesitated a moment ; and while a shade of
sadness passed over her features, she added :
" I am suffering for the want of something now."
The old man dropped his crucible and scalpel,
and started from his seat.
" Suffering !" he exclaimed. " And is it for
the want of anything I can give you V
" Yes," returned Ella.
" Then name it, and if it is to be found in Lon-
don, it shall be yours."
"It is not for the want of anything that money
can purchase. It is for the want of your own
good health and happiness. It is impossible for
me to be happy while you are miserable, and you
cannot deny me that you are even now toil-worn
and weak."
" God bless you, Ella, for a kind and loving
heart," mui'mured the old man, as he pushed the
crucible further from him, and sank once more
into his seat. " I know that I am weak, but not
much longer shall I have to labor thus. I am
not miserable — I am happy, for I am perform-
ing a sacred duty, and evei-y hour I spend over
my work, is fraught with the sweet conviction
that I am arriving nearer and nearer to the con-
summation of that duty. Butif you were miser-
able, I should be miserable indeed."
" Could you be happy, father," asked Ella,
gazing earnestly into the old man's face, " if you
saw me gradually wasting away beneath toil and
care V
" No, no ; and there is no need that you ever
shall. But for ?ne there is need of toil."
" Why, why is there 7 You must have money
enough."
" Ella," retunicd the old man, in tones of pe-
culiar accent, "few men would ci'edit my asser-
tion were I to tell them how much gold I have
saved up from the products of my toil during
the last thirteen years. I have worked hard,
and I have saved much, more than enough to
make a young man independent for life, but yet
I must lay up more. The remainder of my life
must be spent for the fulfilment of an obligation
I cannot break, and when all is accomplished,
you shall know why I have thus labored. Ask
me no more now, Ella; hut rest assured that
were I to leave my labors row, I sliould be for-
ever miserable; but, while I work, even though
I may appear weak and fatigued, I am yet hap-
py and cotitent. J will do no more to-night.
We will have our supper now, and in the morn-
ing I shall be strong again,"
However much Ella may have desired to ques-
tion tlic old man further, she silently obeyed his
wishes ; and though her In'ow was for some time
clouded with the shade of uneasy thought, yet
she soon regained her chceiful, blithesome tone,
and by the time the frugal meal was prepared,
she had begun to smile and talk as usual.
Markton shut up his laboratory, and then
joined Ella in the small room where the table
was spread. The latter used all her powers of
pleasing and entertaining, but yet the old man
seemed sad and thoughtful. He answered the
questions of his fair young companion, and he
tried to smile when she urged her joyful notes of
innocent levity — a Icvify which she was far from
feeling, but which she called uj) in her endeavors
to brush away the care-marks from the aged fea-
tures of the alchemist; but bis smiles were faint,
and they passed away like the pho.sphorescent
lights of the fitful fire-fly. As the evening passed
away, however, he became more calm ; and
when he called Ella to his side and took the Bi-
ble, one would scarcely have known that aught
had troubled him.
The next morning, Walter Markton was early
at his work, and at the requisite hour his medi-
cines were prepared, and he started off to carry
them to the physicians who had ordered them.
Time sped on. The old man accumulated
more gold, which he added to the store already
collected ; but the day of his labors was drawing
to a close. Strong as was his natural constitu-
tion, his incessant toil, and, moreover, the subtle
gases that were evolved from some of his dis-
tillations and analyses, and the noxious nature of
many of his drugs, worked powerfully against
him, and ere long he began to feel that he was
unequal to his self-imposed task. Truly had
Ella marked the physical decay, and it was with
a heavy heart that she saw the old man rapidly
firding away. She told him her fears, and she
urged him to give up his toil ; but the object of
his life was not yet accomplished, and with to^
tering steps, tremblinghands, and dimming eyes,
he pursued his task.
One night when the old man took his Bible,
he found himself unable to read; his eyes were
too weak, and his voice almost failed him. He
passed the book to Ella. She read a chapter,
but she enjoyed not the sacred lesson as was her
wont, for she saw plainly that her worst fears
were being realized, and that the crisis was at
hand. Before Markton retired to his bed, he
hade Ella go to his laboratory and get a certain
medicine which he named, and then he gave her
directions for preparing it.
" This will restore me to my strength again,"
he said, as he took the cup from Ella's hand,
" and in the morning I shall be able to resume
my work."
" No, father ; you will not be able to work to-
morrow," returned the girl, as she looked into
the wan features of the old man.
" Yes, I must. To-morrow I shall be strong.
Only a few more weeks, and then I shall work
no more."
The morrow came, but Walter Markton went
not to his work. He tried to shake off the hand
of disease, but he could not; his limbs refused
their wonted office, and with a deep groan he
sunk back upon his bed. All day Ella nursed
him, but when night came, he had grown no bet-
ter. There was a slight fever in his system, but
the main difficulty seemed to he an actual ex-
haustion of all the physical functions. For a
whole week he lay thus, and to Ella it was ap-
parent that he was becoming weaker and weaker.
He seemed uneasy and troubled, and frequently
incoherent sentences would burst from his lips,
as though some fearful weight rested upon his
mind.
" Ella," said he, towards the close of the eighth
day of bis confinement, " take this key, go to
my laboratory, unlock the small iron chest un-
der my bench, and bring me the bags you will
find there."
The girl took the key which the old man hand-
ed her, and went into the laboratory, and ere
long she returned with four small bags. Again
she went and brought four more, and the third
time she brought only two.
"Now," said Markton, as Ella assisted him
into a chair by the side of the table upon which
she liad ])Iaccd the bags, "you shall help me
count this money."
Tho poor girl was almost bewildered at the
sight of tlie great heaps of gold which were
poured out from the hags, and a sort of dim sus-
picion of something like necromancy flitted
through her mind; but she soon collected her
thoughts, and, following the old man's example,
she began to tell over the money.
"Four thousand five hundred pounds!" utter-
ed Markton, as the gold had been all counted.
" I want more. I must have more. Ella, there
should be five thousand pounds upon this table."
" 0, father, say not so ! Here is enough, and
vastly more than enough."
"No, my cliild, there is no^ cnougli. Bring
me my writing materials."
Ella obeyed.
"Now," continued the old man, "write as I
shall dictate."
Ella prepared her pen, and then, at the dicta-
tion of the old man, she made a full inventory
of his whole chemical ajjparatus, together with
all tlie paraphernalia of his laboratory, and hav-
ing done this, she arranged it in tlie form of an
advertisement. She read it over, and at the
mention of each item, Markton made a minute
with his pencil.
" There," said he, as he had noted all the ar-
ticles, " those mnst be sold, and if I get anything
near their value, I shall be able to make up
something near the sum I must have. It will
not be full, but it will not be far from it, I shall
never be able to work with them more. I feel itj
I know it. Go you, Ella, and carry the adver-
tisement to the office of the Gazette. Take this
piece of money, and tell the publisher to let the
notice stand in his columns as long as he can
for that sum."
The fair girl hastened away to do her errand ;
but after she had gone, the old man began to
wish that he had waited a while longer. It
seemed hard to part with the silent companions
of his long years of toil, and he even thought
that he might again use them as he had done.
It was too late now, however, and he resolved to
let things take their course. The advertisement
went into the paper, and anxiously did Markton
await the result. A week passed away, and
nothing was heard from it. The old alchemist
began to feel stronger, and once he had ventured
into his laboratory, but he had not the strength
to labor, and he became more than ever con-
vinced that his power to sit at the crucible had
It was at the close of a wai-m and somewhat
sultry day, and the deep and smoky fog that
hung over the house-tops had brought on a pre-
mature darkness. The old man had just laid
back in his easy chair, and Ella had cleared off
the small table, upon which the supper had been
spread, when footsteps were heard upon the
stairs. The girl flew to light a candle, and as
there came a gentle rap npon the door, she threw
it open, and a tall, well-dressed stranger entered
the apartment. He was a man in the middle
age of life, with a countenance remarkable for
its symmetrical bcanty, and his manners at once
bespoke him to belong to the upper circles of
society.
"I saw an advertisement this morning," he
said, as he took the seat which Ella handed him,
" and if I remember rightly, it was for the sale
of a somewhat extensive chemical apparatus.
Where can I find Walter Markton'?"
" I am that individual, sir," answered the old
man.
" And are the things which you advertise all
that they arc represented to be'^"
" They are better than I have represented."
" And I suppose you wish to sell them to raise
money."
" You arc right, sir," returned Markton, at
the same time gazing earnestly at the stranger,
whose features were but dimly revealed by the
light of the tallow candle.
"What price have you fixed upon them''"
"I have fixed none. I wish to realize all I
can from their sale."
" But you have some idea of what they are
worth,"
" I will be candid with you," said the old man,
after a few moments' hesitation, " and then you
can see how I am situated. The actual value of
the articles is not over three hundred pounds,
and I need five hundred."
The stranger gazed upon Markton some time
in silence. At length a strange light broke over
his countenance, and dramng his chair nearer to
the side of his host, he said :
"Your admission is a very candid one, and,
in return, I will make you an offer. There must
be some peculiar cause for your need of the sum
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
219
you name, and if you ^vill explain it to mc, I
will give you live hundred pounds for your
apparatus."
"You would not trifle with me, sir," uttered
the old man.
" I will keep my word."
"Then, thank God, mj duty will have been
done, and I can die in peace," ejaculated the old
man, in a fervent tone. " I can now tell to my
gentle Ella, that which, till the present time, I
have never dared to give to her ears, lest she
should think I had done her wrong."
" O you never could have wronged me by such
a thought as that," exclaimed the fair girl. "If
you have thought me capable of such feelings,
then have you wronged me indeed."
" Listen, Ella," said the old man, " and you
shall see what I have had to contend with.
Your parents were not so poor as you have been
led to suppose, and if I liave deceived you in that
respect, I know you will pardon me. Fifteen
years ago, shortly after Charles had lied to the
Isle of Wight, and previous to his execution.
Sir Thomas Valmont, who had been one of the
foremost and most bitter against Cromwell and
his party, found it necessary to flee from Eng-
land. He and myself had been classmates at
Oxford, and as we still remained bosom friends,
he entrusted to my keeping his dearest earthly
treasure. His young wife had died and left him
an infant, and that child he placed under my
charge, then only a year old. He left with me
live thousand pounds, which sum I was to keep
safely till the child was of a sufficient age to man-
age her own. affairs, and then, in case he did
not return, I was to pass the money to her. Two
years afterwards, three of my friends presented
me with a plan for the erection of an extensive
laboratory and magazine for the manufacture of
gunpowder. I examined the plan in all its bear-
ings, and after long and careful deliberation, I
felt assured that the concern would prove vastly
lucrative. I knew it could not fail. We ob-
tained a grant, and I took the five thousand
pounds I had received in ti"ust, and invested it
in the manufactory. Two of the company
proved to be heartless villains, and having suc-
ceeded in getting all the money into their own
hands, they fled from the country. I was not
only left poor and destitute, but I had lost that
wliich had been entrusted to my honor. I still
had an extensive chemical apparatus left, and as
1 was kno^vn among the physicians as a skillful
alchemist, I found little difficulty in obtaining as
much work as I could do. I took these humble
rooms, and I determined that I would replace
the money I had lost, if God spared my life.
Ella grew in years, and though I told her she
was not my child, yet I dared not tell her all. I
felt that I had betrayed the confidence of a
friend, and the presence of the gentle girl was a
constant monitor that cried for reparation. I
liave toiled night and day, and gold has slowly
rolled into my strong chest, but the sum is not
quite complete. Four thousand five hundred
])ounds I have laid by, and though I have suffer-
ed much, yet God knows that my sweet protege
lias not wanted. I have trained her young mind
in the way of knowledge and virtue, and her rich
heart lias borne me an abundant harvest of kind-
ness and love. Had there remained a pound of
that sum unpaid, I never could have died with a
clear conscience ; but now, kind sir, if you keep
your promise, I shall feel once more a man, and
I can leave the world with the sweet conviction
that I have wronged no living soul."
"And is all that gold mine that you have in
the iron chest ?" asked Ella, starting up from
her seat.
"Yes, all."
" Then the stranger shall not buy your things,
for I will outbid him," cried the fair girl, with a
beaming eye and flushed cheek. " I will give
you four thousand pounds for tliem. Come, you
shall not deny me the pleasure of such an
office."
" God bless you for your kind heart, sweet
Ella!" murmured the old man, while the tears
trickled down his cheeks ; "but I cannot touch
that money. It is yours, and I have no right to
a penny of it."
" Noble man !" fell from the lips of the stran-
ger, and on the next instant he sprang forward
and cauglit the alchemist by the hand. " Wal-
ter Markton, do you not know me ?"
The old man was weak, but, nevertheless, he
started to his feet.
" Sir Thomas Valmont!" he uttered.
"Yes, Walter, it is your old friend. I have
been in London a week, and during that time, I
have been trying to hunt you up, and I know
not when I should have succeeded, had I not
seen your advertisement in the Gazette this
morning. Ella, my child !"
The gentle Ella needed no second summons
to seek the embrace of a parent ; and while the
father and child wept, and murmured their heart-
offerings of thanksgivings, the old alchemist
clasped his hands together, and thanked God
that the load of years was taken from his soul.
He felt again the pride of a man, and already
the blood began to course through his veins with
a more healthy flow. He would have asked Sir
Thomas to forgive him for the indiscretion of
which he was guilty, but the noble knight would
listen to no apology.
"Not a word, Walter," said Sir Thomas.
" You have given me a jewel, in the sight of
which all the wealth of the Indies is but as dross.
My child has come from your hands with a pure
and noble lieart; God knows I ask no more.
Happiness is now open to us, and together we
three shall enjoy it."
Valmont soon explained how he had passed
the last fifteen years in the American colonies,
and how he had amassed wealth in Virginia.
The Second Charles restored him to his rights,
and rewarded him for the interest he had taken
in the cause of his royal father, and once more
he found a peaceful home in Old England.
Health returned again to old Markton, and
beneath the roof of Sir Thomas he found all the
happiness he could desire. He still retained his
apparatus, and he lived to see Ella married, and
he also lived to teach her children the rudiments
of alchemy.
[Written for GlcaEon's Pictorial.]
DIVIIVE LOVE.
BY WmiAM T. HttBEE.
There's nought in earth's expansive scope,
From grim despair, to smiling hope,
That can the heart of grief beguile,
Like unto God's approving smite.
Kemorse may wrap the soal in gloom,
And not a niy of joy illume
Its avenues of night profound,
MTiere horror's revels loud resound.
Tet, if a beam of " love divine,"
Upon the torpid spirit shine,
llow quickly will ita powers expand,
Like frost-nipped buds by warn, gales fanned.
< i^—»- >
VOLTAIRE.
Voltaire attended our rehearsals, as well as
our performances, at Femey. I can fancy I see
him now in his very dress, consisting of gray
stockings and gray shoes, a large waistcoat of
bazin, descending nearly to his knees, a large
wig squeezed into a little black velvet cap, turned
up in the front ; the whole completed by a robe
de chambre, likewise of bazin, the corners of
which he would sometimes tuck into the waist-
band of his small clothes. Arrayed in tins cos-
tume, any other person would have looked like
a caricatTu-e ; but the appearance of Voltaire, so
far from suggesting any idea of the ridiculous,
was calculated to command respect and interest.
On ordinary occasions, when he happened to en-
ter into conversation with any of the members of
our theatrical troupe, his manner was marked by
good humored familiarity. But when lie super-
intended our rehearsals, there was a truce with
pleasantry; then he was all in all the dramatic
poet; and one, too, whose correct judgment and
refined taste were not to be easily satisfied. —
Tlieodore Hook's French Statje.
LORD ELDOIN'S FATHER.
After the death of his first lady, he rose one
morning with the whimsical resolution of mar-
rying any one of his maids who should first ap-
pear on his ringing the bell. He rang, and tlic
chambermaid came i;p, to wliom he abruptly
said : " Get yourself ready, and go with me to
be married." The silly girl, treating the aflair
as a joke, refused, and withdrew. He rang the
bell a second time, when the cook maid appeared,
to whom he said : " Well, my girl, I intend this
day to make you my wife ; go and dress your-
self with the best you have, and order the coach
immediately." She took him at his word,
dressed herself, and, coming down stairs, was
met by the silly chambermaid, who asked her
where she was going? "Abroad, I have my
master's leave." She liad scarcely uttered these
words, when her master came down, and took
her by the hand to the coach, whicli drove to St.
Bennet's church, wliere they were married. —
Lives of the Chancellors.
Wlioever is learned will most probably be lib-
eral. This is one of the great benefits of science
and philosophy. Knowledge elevates the mind,
and a man of exten.sive and elevated views will
not he ahlf/of ; nor will he be intolerant, except
towards the obstinate and wilful evil-doer. In-
deed, he will pity even such, and seek their
reformation.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE RED WIG.
BT THE OLD 'dN.
" AxD, Fanny," said the pretty Mrs. Mellison,
a beautiful young widow of twenty-five, conclud-
ing a scries of directions to her confidential
waiting-maid, " if Mr. Thomas Tompkins calls,
you may show him up."
"The red haired one?'' asked the waiting-
maid, witli infinite scorn.
"Yes, Fanny, the gentleman with auburn hair.
Show him up directly. But if his cousin Henry
asks for mc, I am not at home."
" I hate to tell him so," said the waiting maid.
" Why, Fanny? Have you any conscientious
scruples about saying I am not at home to
him ?"
"0 dear, no ma'am! I'd just as licvc say
you'd gone to Roxbury, on a visit to your rela-
tives, and wouldn't be back for a week ; it's my
duty, ma'am. But I hate to disappoint such a
nice, pretty-spoken, dark-haired, genteel young
gentleman as Mr. Henry."
" How much has he given you to advocate his
cause, Fanny?"
" Not a penny, ma'am. I'd have you to know
I scorn a bribe. And I never see the color of
his money, and don't know whether he is rich or
poor. But I declare it's a burning shame, and
everybody says so, to see that young gentleman
a wastin' away like a taller candle in a consump-
tion, and you always a snubbin' of him, at the
same time you're aflbrdin' every encouragement
to that stupid, red-haired, ordinary chap — his
cousin. There ! I've spoke my mind, ma'am,
and I feel relieved even if you was to dismiss me
the next blessed minnit. 0, ma'am, you're rich
and independent, now, why — since you've made
up your mind to marry again — don't you take
up with Mr. Henry's offer '? He's so sensible,
and sprightly, and handsome."
" So was my first husband," said the widow,
with a slight sigh.
" More reason you shouldn't marry a lump of
ugliness," said Fanny.
"You didn't know the late Mr. Mellison'?"
said his relict.
" No, ma'am."
" Well, I'll tell you a secret. He was master
of the hoTise, Fanny."
" Well, ma'am, and wasn't that right ?"
" He ruled me rigidly, Fanny, and I got
shockingly tired of obeying orders, like a private
in a marching regiment. So I made up my
mind when I married again that I would mairy
a man whom I could rule. Now, Mr. Thomas
Tompkins is just the sort of person I was look-
ing for ; he is all gentleness and docility. Do
you understand me now?"
" Yes'm," said Fanny, sulkily, dropping a
sarcastic courtesy. "And I wish you joy of
your bargain. A nasty red-haired thing !" she
added, as she banged out of the I'oom and
slammed the door behind her.
The echo of her exit had hardly died away,
when the door opened and the elegant Henry
Tompkins made his appearance.
" You here !" exclainicd the widow, in a
marked tone of displeasure.
" Yes, Maria," replied the yoimg man, firmly.
" I knew you were at home, and I braved your
anger for the sake of seeing you once more, of
knowing your final decision."
" I reject your ofter, sir," said the lady, decid-
edly, " with many thanks for the honor. I have
already bestowed my hand upon your cousin."
" It is well for him that he is my cousin,
otherwise — "
"Sir! This is not a tone to use in my pre-
sence," said the widow; "yon have no right to
employ it. Betirc, and when you are in a better
temper, perhaps I may receive you as a friend."
"Maria," said the young man, "may you
never have occasion to regret your com-se.
Adieu ! May you be liappy."
And without trusting himself with further
words, he retreated from the presence of the
widowed beauty.
" He is very handsome and accomplifhcd,"
sighed the lady. " If he had remained five min-
utes longer, my eyes would have betrayed my ad-
miration. What a pity he has a will of his
own !"
The person who next entered, after a long in-
terval, was the favored suitor. He wa.s dressed
in shocking bad taste, but the crying sin of his
appearance was his unfortunate head of hair.
Yet lie seemed proud of his "burning shame,"
for he wore it long and curled, and frequently
ran his fingers through it, as he glanced at its
startling brilliancy reflected in the huge mirror.
" So you've come at last," said the widow,
severely.
" Yes'm," answered the favored suitor, very
timidly. " I'm behind time'm, but 1 had to
wait'm."
" Wait, sir? Wlicre have you been V
"Barber's'm," said the terrified youth, casting
another surreptitious glance at the mirror.
" Have you arranged your wardrobe for the
approaching ceremony ?" asked the widow.
" Yes'm, and I hope you'll like 'cm : blue coat,
bright buttons, yellow vest, buff kerseys, pumps,
and bowknot ribbons in 'em."
"Ridiculous!" said the lady, imperiously.
" Countermand the order. You must be dressed
in black."
"Yes'm, yes'm," answered the bridegroom,
with Imn'icd emphasis.
"I'm going out in the carriage, now, a shop-
ping," said tlie lady, "and I want you to go
with me."
" Yes'm, certainly — happy — proud — dear Ma-
ria !" the last words came out with a jerk, and
were received with a frown.
" Ring that bell/' said the lady.
Mr. Thomas Tompkins jerked the bell so
nervously that the handle came off. He receiv-
ed a severe reprimand for his awkwardness.
Fanny answered the bell, and was duected to
tell the coachman to harness ; but she came back
to say that the coachman swore that he wouldn't
go out again, as he'd been out twice already
that morning.
" This it is to be a poor lone woman !" said
the lady, bursting into tears. " Send him up
here, Fanny."
John soon made his appearance. He was a
burly Englishman, and evidently fond of strong
beer.
" Sliall I remonstrate with him, Maria V
asked Mr. Tompkins, very timidly.
"Remonstrate!" repeated the lady, with a
scornful smile. "If you had the spirit of a
man — "
" I thought you didn't like spirit," said Mr.
Tompkins.
"There are occasions, sir," said the widow;
but her mortification cut short her utterance.
"My dear fellow," said Mr. Tompkins, to the
coachman, " I think you ought to consider — "
"You bean't my missus, be you?" said the
coachman, surlily. " When I drive for you, you
can give mc your advice. I allers looks to my
employer."
"Then why didn't you obey my orders'?"
asked the widow.
" 'Cause I aiut a nigger — a blackymoor," an-
swered the coachman, surlily; " and flesh and
blood can't stand your going on."
" O, if Henry were here !" said the widow.
" Fire and furies !" shouted Tompkins, pulling
off his 7-ed wig and flinging it in the face of the
coachman. " What do you mean, scoundrel,
by speaking in that manner ? You are dismissed,
do you hear? and leave tlic room directly!"
"Not for the likes of you," answered the
coachman, doggedly.
The next moment he lay sprawling on his
back, by a stunning blow scientifically planted
midway between his organs of vision. Not lik-
ing a repetition of the same, the coachman picked
himself up, and retired in dismay.
" AAHiat does this transformation mean?"
asked the widow, gazing in astonishment at the
dark locks of her belligerent defender.
" Simply this," was his reply, " that Thomas
Tompkins and Henry Tompkins are the same.
You wanted to marry an imbecile; I determined
to make sucli a character ridiculous, and have,
therefore, tlianks to Bogle, been playing an as-
sumed part. Yet, dear Maria, I will take no
undue advantage of you ; and if you are afraid
to marry a man, I'll resign my claims in favor
of the next blockhead you discover."
" There is my liaud," said tlic widow, blush-
ing; "I am satisfied. But was Fanny in the
plot ?"
"Necessarily; but tliis is the only matter she
ever deceived you in."
So the widow married a second time a man of
spirit; but he ■\>as no tyrant, and the household
autliority was amicably shared between them.
The coachman, wonderfully improved by having
a tight master, was retained in his place, and
never ventured to refuse to harness, " because,"
as he assured a crony of his, who drove a pea-
green cab, " Mr. Tompkins was a wonderfully
hard hitter!"
220
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOH COMPANION.
DONNA PETRA CAMARA.
The cnp;rnvinf^ ij;ivcn below ]H'eseiits an nccu-
mtcantl .s[)intcd likeness of the lir.stdiincorof the
grand theatre of Madrid, Poiina rctrii Camara,
the rival of Cerito, ns slic appears in the Vila, a
characteristic danec from the national ballet, en-
titled " The Fair of Seville." Her heanty, graec,
suppleness and strength, have filled all Europe
with her fame. She had created a perfect/H?ore
at Cadiz and at Seville, when the queen com-
manded her to appear at Madrid. There she
turned all heads. Alexander Dumas, during
his stay in Spain, celebrated her charms and
talents in a glowing letter, which procured her
an invitation to the capital of France. At Paris
her success was decisive.
INCIDENTS OF INDIAN LIFE.
My wife and I were sitting, after tea, ])laying
at backgammon, and enjoying tlic cool brce/.c that
came through the open Venetians, when suddenly
it began to rain. In an instant tlic room swarmed
with insects of all sorts. There was a beautiful
large green mantis ; and as we were watcliing
his almost human motions, a grasshopper and a
large brown cricket flew against my face, wliilc a
great cockroach, full three inches long, came on
my wife's neck, and began bumming about her
head, and face, and dress ; the flying ant, which
emits a most nauseous effluvia ; and the flying
bug, black, and about the size of an English one,
which, if you crush bim, will make your fingers
smell most dreadfully for many hours ; and with
these our clothes were covered, and wo were
obliged to keep brushing them away from our
faces, but with very gentle handling; then came
two or three hornets, which sent Mrs. Acland to
bed, to get under the mosquito curtains, where
none of these horrid creatures can get at her. I
sat up trying to read, but buzz came a mos(]nilo
on the side of my face, up went my hand with a
tremendous slap on the clieck to kill t!ic tormen-
tor, and buzz lie went on again. Then I felt
something big burying itself in my hair, and then
came buzz on the other side, and then all rouiul.
Presently, with a loud hum, a great rhinoceros
beetle dashed into my face. I now began to
take some of the animals out of my hair ; and
the first I touched was a flying bug ; the stench
was dreadful. I rushed out of the room, brush-
ing the honihlc creatures from my Iiair with both
bands. I nearly fell over a toad, on which I
trod, and ic-aclicd my bedroom to find eighteen
or twenty great toads, crouched in different parts
of tlic room, and five large bats whirling round
and round the bed. Having washed my hands
in Eau dc Cologne, I quickly undressed and fell
asleep. In the course of the night a troop of
jackulls surrounded the house, and by their
frightful yells soon drove away all idea of rest;
and then about four o'clock, as we were just doz-
ing ofl' again, comes the roll of the drum and the
loud voice of the trumpet, tlie tramp of the sol-
diers, the firing, and all the bustle of the parade.
—Ii£v. W. Wilson.
DONNA PETRA CAMARA, AT THE MADRID THEATRE.
A BAR-ROOM.
By this time, it being past eleven o'clock, the
two bar-keepers of the saloon were in pretty con-
stant activity. One of these young men had a
rare faculty in the concoction of gin cocktails.
It was a spectacle to behold, how, with a tumbler
in each hand, he tossed the contents from one to
the other; never conveying it awry, nor spilling
the least drop, he compelled the frothy liquor,
as it seemed to me, to spout forth from one glass
and descend into the other, in a great parabolic
curve, as well defined and calculable as a plan-
et's orbit. He had a good forehead, with a par-
ticularly large development just above the eye-
brows ; fine intellectual gifts, no doubt,, which
he had educated to this profitable end, being
famous for nothing but gin cocktails, and com-
manding a fair salary by his one accomplish-
ment. These cocktails, and other artificial com-
binations of liquor (of which tliere were at least
a score, though mostly, I suspect, fantustic in
their difl'erenecs), were much in favor with the
younger class of customers, who, at furthest,
liad only reached the second stage of potatory
life. — The old soakers, on the other band, — men
who, if put on tap, would have yielded a red
alcoholic liquor by way of bloody-usually con-
fined tliemselves to plain brondy and water, gin,
or West India rum ; and oftentimes they pre-
faced their dram witli some medicinal remark
as to the wholcsomeness and stomachic qualities
of that particular drink. The prettiest object in
the saloon was a tiny fountain, which threw up
itjj feathery jet through tlie counter, and sparkled
down again into an oval basin, or lakelet, con-
taining several gold fishes. — There was a bed of
bright sand at the bottom, strewn with cora
and rock-work ; and the fi*hes went gloaming
about, now turning up the sheen of a golden
side, and now vanishing into the shadows of
the water, like fanciful tlioughts that coquet with
a poet in his dream. Never before, I imagine,
did a company of water-drinkers remain so en-
tirely uncontaminated by the bad example
around them ; nor could I help wondering that
it never occurred to any freakish inebriate to
emptv a glass of liquor into the lakelet. Whut
a delightful idea ! Who would not be a fish, if
lie could inhale jollity with the essential element
of his existence ! — Hawthorne.
People seldom love those who withstand
their prejudices, and endeavor to control their
passions.
PET RATS.
I was astonished, on visiting the houses of
some of the inhabitants, to see a huge rat walk-
ing quietly about the room, and crawling up the
master's legs in a cool, familiar manner. Instead
of repulsing it, or evincing any alarm, he took it
up in his hands and caressed it; and then I
learnt for the first time, and to my utter astonish-
mem, tinit it was a custom prevalent in Bangkok
10 keep pet rats, which arc taken very young
and carefully reared, till they attain a perfectly
monstrous size from good and plentiful feed-
ing. These domestic rats arc kept expressly
to free the house of other vermin of their own
race, and so ferocious arc they in the on-
slaughts they make, that few of tJic houses are
ever annoyed by mice or rats, — Ncalc's Resuknce
in Siam.
GLEASON'S riCTORIAL DRAWING ROOIM COMPANION.
221
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BAtLOtI, Editor.
COINTENTS OF OUR NKXT KUMKER.
" Fanny Farley, or the Country Cousin," a fine story,
by Mrs. H. E. Robinson.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. V, by Dr. Jerome V. C.
Smith, relating to the Officers of State.
" A Five Hour Fresh Water Bath," a story, by GEoaaE
S. Raymond.
" TraTels in Palestine,-' No. Til, by Kev. F. W. Hol-
land, relating to Jerusalem.
" Autographs and Autography," No. VI, by Willtam
Edward Knowles, giving the autographs of David Paul
Brown, E. Curtiss Iline, Judge Story, Richard Cobden,
Joseph R. Chandler, Horace Greeley, M. M. Noah, Seba
Smith and Joseph C. Neal.
" Her I left behind me,'' verses, bv Charles M. Teslet.
" A Memento for the Lovely,"' hnes, by \Vm. T. IlasEE.
" Mosquitos," a sonnet, by J. Starr Hollowat.
"Thoughts,"' in verse, by Persa S. Lewhs.
'■ Stanzas," by E. CoRTiss Hine, U. S. N.
" Love," verses, by Kenneth Sinclair.
"The Aged,'' a poem, by Mr?. M. IV. Curtis.
"Address to the Muse,"' hnes,by Miss M. N. Dearborn.
ILLUSTEATIONS.
We shall give a fine and accurate engraving of the Alms
House, Blackvvell's Island, New York. Drawn for us by
our artL=t, Mr. \Vade.
A capital scries of views will be presented of Gold Dig-
ging in New South n'ales.
Representing, first, the Dry Diggings on the Turon Wt-
er, with the Miners at work.
Second, a picture of the River Bed Claim, on the same
river.
Third, a view of one of the adventurers performing what
is called Cradling.
Fourth, a picture of Children performing the same light
and easy work.
Fifth, a representation of Sliners engaged In Washing
the Gold before packing it.
Sixth, the style of removing from one place to another,
with household goods.
Seventh, a characteristic view, repre.'^nting one of the
Miners "dodging"' the Government Commissioner.
Eighth, a fjic-simile of the Post Office, at Sofala, Turon
River, in the Diggings.
Ninth, an expressive picture, representing the appear-
ance of a disappoiuted Gold Di^er.
Tenth and last of the series, the Gold Digger's Grave, on
the Turon River.
A fine original and very elaborate series of views, illus-
trating the late Fair, at Dtica, N Y. All by our artist,
Mr. Cliapin.
First, a capital picture of Utica, taken from Steele's Hill,
artistic and accurate.
Second, a general view of the Fair Grounds, at Utica,
during the celebration.
Third, an engraving of the short horn Bull, "Hatton,"
which took the first prize at the Fair.
Fourth, a picture of the Devon Heifer, " Red Lady," the
Prize Heil'er of the Fair.
Fifth, a series of views of the Prize Fowls, representing
Poland, Cochin China, Dorking, Game, etc., etc.
Sixth, a picture of the Prize Bull ■' Kelbum,'' of the
Ayrshire breed, exhibited at the Fair.
Seventh, a very fine engraving of the Prize Cow " Pretty
Maid," of the Hereford breed.
A large and very artistic picture of the Interior of Klous
& Co 's Hat, Cap and Fur Store, Court street, Boston.
A picture of the late Fetes at Paris, representing a Na-
val Combat on the River Seine.
An Australia!! gold scene, giving a view of the road to
Mount Alexander, through the Black Forest.
SPLINTEBS.
There are now five daily papers pub-
lished in San Francisco, California.
An iron ship, named the Typhoon, was
lately launched on the river Clyde.
.... It is no longer necessary for editors to
" blow people up '* — steamboats do that business.
There are now, at least, 20,000 Chinese
resident in San Francisco and vicinity.
.... The Spanish war steamer Volcano late-
ly sunk at the mouth of the port of Vigo.
.... It is said that the cotton crop of the pre-
sent year will reach 3,500,000 bales.
.... The whole number of blind persons in
the United States is little less than 10,000.
.... Parents teach your children liow to
switn. This is all-important.
The cholera has proved quite fatal in
Buffalo, N. Y., during the past season.
.... All kinds of provisions are most unac-
countably and unreasonably dear,
According to our foreign papers the chol-
era bids fair to sweep over all Europe.
.... There are now, in Wisconsin, about
twenty five thousand Norwegians.
The Manchester (N. H.) Gas Works
commenced operations on Thursday of last week.
.... At Quebec, " old men and boys, old wo-
men and girls," are packing up for Australia.
.... He that does the best he can, is as wor-
thy as he that can do the besc.
.... The people of Rhode Island are in rap-
tures at their late Fair in Providence.
AUTUMN.
We have passed the verge of summer, and
have now come to the autumnal season — in this
favored land, the pleasantcst of the year. The
autumn comes to us, not as in the foggy climate
of the mother country, in "sombre russet clad,"
but decked in a raiment of rainbow splendor,
like a royal bride arrayed for the nuptial cere-
mony. We forget that these gaudy robes are
but the symbols of decay, and we rejoice at the
splendors with which nature graces her leave-
taking. The first days of autumn are so deli-
ciously bland, that only to breatlie of their fra-
grant zephyrs is exquisite enjoyment. Then, too,
how earnestly the tokens of a plenteous harvest
gladden our spirits. The purpling grapes hang
in clusters on their swaying trellises ; the or-
chards bend with the weight of golden and deli-
cious fruit ; the ripened corn stands in close
ranks, the tassels waving like the ensigns of a
bannered host ; while whole fields are strewn with
the deep orange pumpkins, the indispensable
material of a New England festival. AVe never
heard of a failure of the pumpkin crop, but if
such a calamity should ever befall — whicli may
kind fortune avert — all Yankee-land would be in
mourning. For what would Thanksgiving be
without pumpkin pies'? "Bread and circuses !"
(panem et circenses) was the cry of the Roman
populace. "Bread and bulls!" (pan y toros) is
the shout of the Castilians ; but "pumpkin pies
and turkeys" should be inscribed on the banners
of the Yankees !
We love, once in a while, to steal away from
the care and noise of a city life, on a fine Sep-
tember morning, and leaving pen and ink, and
the thousand current cares of every-day life be-
hind, pass a whole day among the fields and
hills. The view seems boundless,! Through
the clear air the voice of the husbandmen at their
harvest labors comes pleasantly distinct, and the
report of the sportsman's piece is heard to a
great distance. The forest trees, slightly bronzed,
are of that rich green that a painter loves to imi-
tate. But the full glory of our autumn is re-
served for the days succeeding the visit of a frost,
just such a frost as Cardinal AVolsey described
when he touchingly bewailed his fallen great-
ness ! The frost of our own New England em-
bellishes while it destroys. While it carries
death to the heart of its victim, it also arrays it
in gorgeous funeral robes. The doomed leaves
put on as many hues as ever flamed in the treas-
ury of a wealthy lapidary, or glow in the rain-
bow's beauteous arch. How the maples flame
like pyramids of fire among the dark and sombre
evergreens. The graceful branches of the wal-
nuts are piled with flakes of gold, or seem spotted
all over with unchanging sunlight. The sturdy
oaks lift a pile of rust-colored foliage to the pass-
ing breeze.
Some shrubs and trees are deep purple, others
exhibit a mingled mass of green and red. It
seems as if nature were setting her palette before
painting some design as vast as creation's self.
These gorgeous decorations last for some weeks,
in mild weather, just as a splendid scenic piece
upon the stage has a " run" of many days. But
honest Jack Frost at last asserts his dominion,
and puts an end to the show by stripping the
forest of its finery, and leaving it gaunt and
threadbare, like the framework of a pyrotechnic
display, after the last spark is extinguished. A
few leaves "hold over," till the next season, just
as a few office-holders contrive to cling to power
even after a change of administration ; hut these
are exceptions that serve only the more impress-
ively to mark the general desolation. Like all
terrestrial beauties, this is but brief, and with the
last of November the glories of autumn cease.
Fancy Pigeons. — At the late fowl exhibi-
tion in the Public Garden, in this city, we saw
nothing more interesting than a beautiful collec-
tion of fancy pigeons of different varieties, reared
by Thomas S. Gaddess, a young fancier of
Lynchburg, Va.; " good for Old Virginia."
Important. — The Russia Salve is generally
known and appreciated ; but we wish to call the
attention of the officers of the state prison, at
Charlestown, to the fact that it cures " felons !"
Vert Pretty, — If girls would have roses in
their cheeks, they must do as the roses do — go
to sleep with the lilies, and get up with the
morning-glories.
Equestrianisri. — The best rider at present
in Boston is a captain in port, who " rode out a
tt mpcst," some time lately, oft' Cape Antonio I
GRAMMAR I
How to decline the three Presidential cases for
the i/ear I So2. — To all teachers of grammar, in
the city and country, the following method of de-
clining the three Presidential cases is confident-
ly recommended, namely;
Nominative, Webster,
Possessive, Pierce,
Objective, Scott.
Second method of declining the names Web-
ster, Pierce and Scott :
Singular. Singular.
Nominative, Webster, Nominative, Scott,
Possessive, (wanting), Pnsscssivp, (wanting).
Objective, (wanting.) Objective, Scott.
Plural.
Nominative, Pierce,
Possessive, Fierce,
Objective, (wanting.)
Exercise for the pupil, — Can you correct the
following sentences ?
(1.) Webster should be, but never shall be
President.
(2.) Pierce shall be, hut never should be
President.
(3.) Scott never should be, and never shall
be President.
THE ARMORER OF TYRE:
— OR —
THE ORACLE AND ITS PRIEST.
AN EASTERN BOMANCE.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
This admirable story, just completed in the
Flag of our Union, is now published in book
form. It is an excellent tale, and one which
has proved justly popular during its publication
in the paper. It may be had in this convenient
form at any of the periodical depots throughout
the country.
A LIBERAL Giver. — The late Mr. George
Collier, of St. Louis, in his will, gave §10,000 to
the St. Charles College ; $5000 to the Protestant
Orphan Asylum, and to various persons con-
nected by relationship, sums ranging from SlOOO
to S10,000. There are seven children in Mr.
Collier's family, and the estate is estimated to be
worth §1,200,000. The revenue it affords is
about S100,000.
Barnabas Bates, Esq. — This gentleman is
styled the Father of cheap postage in America,
and the public are largely indebted to his per-
sonal exertions for the present very liberal rates
of postage adopted by Congress. Mr. Bates is
a public phihmthropist, and without any other
motive than a love of justice and general good,
gives his time and money to the cause.
Gleason's Pictorial. — This is certainly the most beau-
tiful publication in this country, as far as our knowledge
extends, and that is not recent or limited, in such mat-
ters There is not an object of interest at home or abioad,
an occurrence transpiring around us, whether a ruined
castle or one of modem structure, a new ship, a panide, an
encampment, the gathering at Faneuil Hall, a great man,
a wreck, or a steamboat on fire, beside a hundred other
things, but what artists, with an apparent ubiquity, are
upon the spot, ready to furnish a ''pictur " of it for the
readers of Gleason's Pictorial! And then, the style is
beautitul, and the work well got up. \S'k really wonder
how the ladies can do without it, as it is an oinamtnt to
any centre-table, and an enterfciining companion for all. —
Constitutionalist, Jacksonville, lit.
" The Yankee Chajipion : or. The Tory and
his League " — This is the title of a revolutionary
story, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., which will be
commenced in this week's number of the Flag
of our Union. We can heartily recommend it
to the readers of the Pictorial, as being fully
equal to the best of the author's previous efforts.
Postage. — We have the pleasure of inform-
ing our readers that the postage on this paper is
now but one half cent to any part of the United
States, to regular subscribers. This is but six
and a half cents per quarter. Cheap enough !
IvEEP OFF the Track ! — ^Four persons were
run over and killed by the cars, lately, between
Albany and Buffalo.
Be thorough. — Some one says : " There is
nothing so prolific as a little known well;" and
there is weight in the remark.
Too TRUE. — The terror of being thought poor
has been the ruin of thousands.
Glad to hear it. — It is said religion is be-
coming fashionable in France.
Beware. — Vice often lurks close to virtue.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Worcester, Mr. Albert Cush-
man to Miss Mary Ann Jeffrey.
By Rev Dr. Stow, Mr. Abraham W. Tower to Miss Ly-
dia Ann Clark, of Randolph.
By Kev. Mr. Smithett, Mr. Matthew Simpson to Miss
Jane Scott.
By Rev. Mr. Grav, Mr. Joseph B. Brown to Miss Carrie
L. Frost.
By Rev. Mr. Blakie, Mr. Charles Emery to Miss Jane
Emery.
At Lowell, by Rev. Dr. Blanchard, Mr. Richard Buswell,
of Lebanon, N. H., to Miss Ellen Maria Thompson.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Perkins, Mr. Ezekiel H.
Dyer to Miss Eliza Ann Lane.
At Sherbom. by Rev. Mr. Clark, Mr. Cadis R. Boyce, Oa
Boston, to Miss Anna P. Clark.
At Spencer, by Rev. Mr. Collins, Mr E. P. Watson to
Miss Ehza Washburn, both of Stafford, Ct.
At Holliston, by Rev. Mr. Tucker, Mr. AVilliam Metcalf
to Miss Ellen E. Johnson.
At Middleborough, Mr. Charles Frederick Pierce, of Dela-
field, Wis., to Miss Harriet Osgood Putnam.
At Portlitnd, Me., by Rev. Dr. Dwight, Allen Collier,
Esq., of Cincinnati, Ohio, to Misa Susan Caroline How.
At New Haven, Ct., Rev. James R. Cleaveland, of Dur-
ham, to Miss Elizabeth H. Jocelyn, and Rev. David Peck,
of (.Jreenwich, to Miss Francis M. Jocelyn— daughters of
Nathaniel Jocelyn, Esq,
At Milford, Ct., by Rev. Mr. Brace, Rev. Phineas Stow,
of Boston, to Miss Augusta S. Pond.
At Brooklyn, N.Y., by Rev. Dr. Yinton, Mr. Edward H.
Baldwiu to Miss Mary E. Clark, of Cincinnati, Ohio.
r^^f^
In this city, Mrs. Sally Siders, 86; Frances Allen Rem-
ick, 9 ; Mrs. (illarissa tisher, 31 ; Miss Lydia Burlcy, a well
known nurse ; Mrs. Elizabeth S. Knight, 58 ; Miss Maria
W. Otis, daughter of Bass Otis, Esq.
At Charlestown, John Jacobs, Esq., of Boston.
At Somevville, Mr. Thomas Darling, 77.
At Cambridge, Grenville Temple Winthrop, Esq., 46.
At W. Cambridge, Mrs. Caroline L, Hill, 44.
At E. Lexington, Mr. Daniel Peirce, 36.
At Neponset, Mrs. Ann Hill. 6".
At E. rt'eymouth, Mrs. Mary Lovell Bates, 36.
At Reading, Mrs. Louisa P. Foster, 37.
At Andover, Miss Sarah A. Flint, 26.
At Concord, Henry H, Fuller, Esq., of Boston.
At Danvers, Miss Margaret Osbom, 90.
At Salem, Mrs. Mehitable Deland.
At Newburyport, Mrs. Anna Lancaster, 79.
At Leverett, Dr. Asa B. Strong, 40.
At Southbridge, Mrs. Mercy D. Paige, 29.
At Grantville, Miss Sarah Noyes. of tV. Needham, 50.
At Erving, Dr. John G. Baiton, 39.
At Worcester, Mr. Giles Hubbard, of Sunderland, 82.
At Pelham, N. H., Mr. Ichabod rt'ood, 92.
At Stratham, N. U., George Wingate, Esq., 75.
At Glenburn Me., Mr. John McLeJlan, 94.
At Brunswick, Me., Mrs. Eliza Thompjjon, 51.
At Wethersfield, Ct., Mrs. Lydia Moulton, 89.
At Hunter's Island, N.Y., Hon. John Hunter 74.
At Chester, Pa., Mrs. Margaret B. Miller, of Philadelphia.
At Charleston, S. C, Mr. Jenness Batchelder.
At New Orleans, Mr. George H. Bullions, 26.
AND — ■
LIIERART WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL
A Jlecord of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEMCAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
not;ible objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its dusign, in this country. Us pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
evorj' noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also bo
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of aHiusement it alTords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE VOITTME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
INVARLiBLT IN ABVAXCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the lirit of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four bundled and sixteen pages each.
ICr' One copy of the Flag of oun Union, and one copy
of the Pictorial DnAwisti-Kooii Companion', one year,
for So 00.
[O^ The Pictorial Drawixg-Room Companion may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout t^ie
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single t opy
Published every S.i.turday, by
F. GLEASON, Boston, M.\s6.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S FRENCH, 161 Nassau, cor. iipruce Street, New York.
A WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
B jRGESS, TAYLOR & CO.. Ill Baltimore St., Baltimore.
A C BAGLEY, 10 West Third Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E K. WOODWARD, cor. Fourth and Chrsnut, St. Louia.
0=" Subscriptions received at either of the ahnw j la'-fS
222
GLEASON'S PTCTORTAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Glcason's Plctoriiil.]
TIIK SOVICRKIGN OF THE SEA.
AtlROSTICAL.
Jiespecl/ulhj inscribed to Enoch Trauiy Es'j., of Boslon.
DY OKOROB 8. RAYMOND.
T lie Rtorm clouda are gathering afitr in the north,
11 eftvou'8 tbnndorfl iiru muttt'ring (.'xultingly forth ;
Evcn'H darkness ia shroutlinK, in iii^ht^a huIjIc pull,
S un, Beii-bird and sailor— there In ilarkncafl on all.
On, on, and away, over ocean-waves dashing,
Van-bonio on the gale, mid the red lightnlng'n fliuthlng;
Enshrouded in mist, like the war-steed careering,
II uahcs on the stout ship so gallantly Bteoring.
Embattledj the atorm-king has mavHhnlled hin host,
I n thunder are the night-demons lashing the eoast j
G rim spectres are stalking over ocean and sky,
No cheer for the atomi-driven sailor is nigh.
Omnipotence guiding, the storm's wrath defying,
Fearleys and free the bold Sovereign is hieing
Towards her far distant port — ay, peerless and free,
II igh aloft gleams her banner — proud king of the sea.
Eagle-pinioned her flight, amid the commotion.
Still eeorning the battle of fire, air and ocean ;
E Ten Neptune is conciuored — his scepta is gone,
America's Sovereign is monarch alone !
[Written for Gleason's Pictoriiil.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No VI.
BT REV. F. W. HOLLAND.
JERUSALEM.
The whole road from Sychar to Jerusalem is as dreary, mo-
notonous, desert-like and uncomfortable as possible. It took
fourteen hours' travel of these Syrian nags, so peculiar in their
food, their shoeing, their enduiance, and their security. From
morn to night they never tasted anything — not even a mouthful
of water; and their only fare when we stopped was a little bag of
beans. No hay is ever provided, and no straw to lie upon; and
the " moukra " makes a furious outcry if you allow them to sip of
the stream they are crossing, or browze of the fresh herbage be-
neath their feet. The whole journey is nothing but a walk. Not
that there are not here and there fine plains to scamper over, and
smootli beaches for a trial of speed, but that if you leave your ba"*-
gage, it is lost. Your mule-man is unknown to you even by name ;
he has no knovm home and no pecuniary responsibility. More than
that, the moment you should be out of sight, some hungry Arab
might pounce U])on him and leave nothing but Iiis skin ; and the
fellow would have as fair a claim against you for damages as vou
against him. And then, tliere is the helplessness of being tongue-
tied ; the knowledge that if you lost your way, where way there
is none, you would have to find it again by your own wit — that
you might as well raise the dead as get any help out of the stupid
peasants. It may seem incredible, but, two stones' throw from
Bethany, I offered several peasants silver — a rare siglit to them —
to lead me to that village. But they did not know its name even
by the Italian form, Betamia, and all their answer was to poin
into the hollow where I supposed the place lay and cry out "Er_
zereer ;" and had I asked for Jerusalem by any but its Syrian
name of EI Kuds, hardly a native could have shown it to ine even
under its walls. I never shall forget the chill that came over me
one of those days, as, after dismounting for a moment to examine
some beautiful Roman ruins, I suddenly found that my friend
and the servants had disappeared, and that different tracks led
across the wide plain over the mountains beyond, while the only
persons in sight could guide me little better than the beast I
rode. However, a half hour of hard riding brought me up to the
party again ; and as I wiped oif the clammy sweat, I resolved not
to stop any more even to see the Grand Mogul. Fortunately,
there is not much to stop for ; the architecture of Palestine was
never gigantic like the Egyptians. Only at one spot, Balbec,
have immense stones been employed, and that is still one of the
grandest remains in existence. Commonly, the ancient materials
have been built over and over again, leaving only a faint shadow
of Herodian or Imperial magnificence.
We passed through or near Shiloh, Bethel, Beerath — where wo
slept — Ramah and the mountains of Moab. Shiloh might be
called a discovery of Dr. Robinson's — one of the many services
rendered by American travellers to this every way neglected
country. He was guided partly by the name Seilure, partly by
the bearing and distance from Jerusalem. There is only a foun-
tain, an old tower, and the ruins of a modern village to mark the
spot where the ark rested for four hundred years. Bethel has
several scattered houses, evidently belonging to farmers, and
some ruins of churches. Here, indeed, must be one of the rest-
ing-places of pilgrims and caravans ; and several small villages
cluster together, none of which would be thought in our country
to really live. The flat-roofed, one-story cottage of stone shelters
men and cattle in the same spacious apartments ; a mud-chimney
in pne corner giving doubtful passage to the smoke of mere brush,
a little ledge bearing up the olive oil dish with its miserable pre-
tence of light, an unwashed water-bottic, and some large mud
jars holding the grain for man and beast— these complete tlic
equipment. No ceremony seemed required in these huts. Every
visitor brought his own, went without, or bought what he could.
Nothing was furnished except the shelter, tlic smoke, the dark-
ness visible, the water and the never-omitted vermin ; commonly,
not a bit of mat for the clay floor — never a chair or a pillow. But
we were generally so tjred that it mattered not where or on what
wo cant ounsolves down to troubled dreams. I remember, how-
ever, tliat, after we had paid for everything else, a dintinet charge
was commonly made for the water! If I hud not accustomed
myself to buy food at Arab houses all through Egypt, I might
have supposed the scarcity was simply want of ingenuity in bunt-
ing up fowls and eggs. But decent fare is so rarely wanted by
travellers and such an unknown luxury to the natives, that it
could not be had "for love or money " within twenty miles of
Jerusalem. We would have pushed through the fourteen hours
for the sake of resting iu a decent place, but Jerusalem, uidiap-
pily, is a walled town, whose gates are closed, Syrian fasliion, at
sundown ; an<l outside of the walls there is not the slicltcr of a
horsc-slicd, nor any kind of provision for the belated traveller.
So that discretion had to be "the better part of valor."
At last, after six days and a lialf of wretched wandering, we
crossed the stone heaps of Moab and beheld Jerusalem rising be-
fore us in unexpected beauty — a battlementcd, dome-crowned
city, as worthy of admiration now, compared with the desolation
of the land over which it sits a throned monumental queen, as
when that land, crowded with life, plenty and ]ieace, nestled in
the arms of its regal and sacerdotal grandeur. We were struck
by tlie silence around it, the lifelessness, the absence of any of the
sounds belonging to a live city. Oriental towns seem to love the
stillness wliich our towns disturb by the rattle of wheels, the hum
of traffic, the heaving of machinery, the pealing of bells, the
many cries of business or pleasure. But Jerusalem is the stillest
of them all. The favorite burial-place for so many nations seems
all a tomb —the tomb of piety and prophecy, of valor and chivalry,
of arcliitectural glory and military renown. No other spot, save
such extinct cities as Palmyra and Nineveh, carry you so entirely
away from tlie present. As you wander, with not even a goat for
company along the Jehoshaphat valley, as you detect nothing upon
the neighboring hillsides but graves, you are oppressed with an
indescribable sadness. There comes back to you, first of all, the
rush of multitudes from all the land to pour out their hearts as
incense to the holiest of earthly altars ; and as tlie long caravan
comes in sight of the temple, the psalm bursts like the roll upon
an ocean shore from the glad multitude, and is echoed back from
the temple-courts byhosts of trained priests with their instruments
of strange music. And this dream fades, and another procession
crosses the stage — a multitude wind down that same mule-path
on the Mount of Olives, and, waving their palm branches and
shouting their ancient hosannas, tliey lead on one in triumph
whom they hope to make a king — but whom near to we sec to be
weeping— who saw in the pomp of that hour of popular enthusi-
asm, only the hastening on of his agony and shame. And then
we have but to wait a few years — which are moments in our
dreams — to behold the answering sight to this, to hear the din of
the Roman camp and see the glitter of Roman steel, and the
judgment day has dawned; these ancient walls begin to shake,
the gates are broken down, and fearfully do the mad flames leap
over the temple and its glory. And then, a long, long time of
oblivion, and other shouts are heard. Again it is martial music
filling the air ; the cross is seen leading on a steel clad host, and
hynms take the place of war-cries, and blood is shed in rivers in
the name of God, as acceptable incense to his insulted Son. But
the visions of the past will not leave us with Jerusalem a Chris-
tian city. Once more the gates welcome a conqueror, once more
the shout of victory is echoed back from the temple-courts, now
streaming with lose water, to the prophets' tombs. The Chris-
tian bells ring their own requiem, the Christian cross yields to the
pale crescent, the chains are riveted which yet bind down the
captive daughter of Zion. It is well that there should be no
mirthful sounds in the face of such a calamity. Who would
rejoice in this house of a more than regal bondage 1
Wc were obliged every time we entered the city in a party to
ride round to the southern or Bethlehem gate, where a small
guard is always stationed in a kind of citadel, and a tax levied
upon everything earned out of the city. Passing in without mo-
lestation, except from the beggars, we were soon in possession of
damp, chilly, jiiil-like apartments in the new Latin convent, where,
in the rainy season of January, it seemed as if we could squeeze
the water out of our bed-clothes; and the stone fioor was carpet-
less, and the stone wall unplastered, and the kitchen so poorly
supplied, that the friars apologized daily, and the prospect from
the windows was only of the three stone walls of the prison-like
court. Mount Lebanon wood is too dear to he used as fuel, or
even to be freely employed in building ; and our only resource in
the constant chilliness of this high position was such a brazer of
coals, as warmed the hands of the cowardly apostle, on the night
of the betrayal. Since the French Revolution, these " Terra
Santa" convents have lost their generous supplies from abroad ;
and the forty thousand dollars which arc said to be require dan-
nually to feed the pilgrims, keep them poor and in debt. Their
chief revenue, at present, is from the sale of crosses, beads and
shells, in which, however, the natives can compete with them as
they please.
Jerusalem itself, I was glad to find prosperous ; although the
Jews themselves are the worst part of the population. Coming
here for pious purposes, they depend upon alms sent from abroad ;
never cultivate the soil nor endeavor to maintain themselves, as a
general thing ; arc infested with leprosy and the plague, and seem-
ed to be regarded with scorn alike by Christian and Moslem. " I
have travelled far," said a rabbi to a missionary; "the Jews are
princes everywhere in comparison with those in the land of Iran.
Heavy is our burden, heavy our captivity; anxiously do wc wiiit
for the Redeemer." And though " the whole head is sick and
the heart fahit," they cling to the promise; and not a contract
will they make at Jerusalem without the clause "until Mcssias
comcth."
[Written for Gleason'fl Pictorial.]
AUTOrntAT'IIS AXI) ArToriRAPllY
OF DISTINGUISHED rNDIVlDUAlS.
No. V.
BT WM. edwaud knowleb.
•^ucO
The Inmdwriting of the President of the United States is re-
markably distinct, clear and legible, evincing the regularity and
careful liahits of the writer. The man who writes such a hand
will produce finished communications with his pen, both in chi-
rography and composition. It is one of the best signatures wc
have given.
^-
eJ^^^Z-t^
The popularity of Washington InviNCr can receive no addi-
tion. He has reached the highest pinnacle of literary fame, and
can ascend no higher. But it has cost him years of intensest la-
bor to accomplish it. And from the eminence he surveys tlie
struggle of the literary world below. His manuscript is remark-
ably neat and precise.
^u^y^^--
7^^
We need not pause here to refer to Daniel Webster in any
other way than to allude to his autograph. It has a hurried and
dashing form, and appears like the effort of the band to keep up
with the strides of the mind in depicting its thoughts upon paper.
The signature is a good sample of the writer's manuscript gen-
erally.
^^'^-Mn^i.
The signatui'e of the Attorney- General of the United States is
strong, firm and manly, indicative of decision and promptness.
It is what students of autography call a free signature. It is an
excellent specimen of the general handwriting, which is uniform
and regular, presenting a very handsome appearance in the page.
C. M. Conrad, Secretary of War of the United States, writes
a bold and dashing manuscript, indicating the author to possess a
habit of mind that first selects its object, matures its plans, and
then dashes boldly forward to the consummation of its purpose.
The signature is very free and graceful ; and the same may be
said of the general manuscript of the writer.
The autograph of N. P. Willis is a good one, at least when
he writes with care His chirography is free and gntceful; and
his letters terminate as well as they begin. He possesses talent,
high, original talent, which can often be called genius. The sig-
nature is rather heavier than usual. His manuscript generally is
almost faultlessly plain and accurate in detail.
Henry AVilliam Herbert. — The chirography of the author
of " Cromwell," " Cavaliers of England," etc., is an excellent one,
legible, neat and graceful. It has much slope and uniformity,
and in this respect, resembles that of Miss Sedgwick. His man-
uscripts always have the appearance of hurry and carelessness.
The letters are clearly but hurriedly formed, and seem as if the
writer was anxious to conclude what he had to say. The signa-
ture is a fair specimen of the general handwriting.
ej
Prof. Henry was one of the originators of the "New York
Review." His chirography is unformed and careless. Of several
lying before us, not one can lay any claim to neatness or grace-
fulness. The signature is far better than the generality of his
manuscript, which is blind enough.
^^^^
O-
/i
£i — -*-«-i,.—
J. H. Ingraiiam is a charming novelist ; and as far as popu-
larity is concerned, he stands at the head of American writers of
fiction. His characters are always well chosen, and ])erform their
part in the drama in an admirable manner. His chirogra])hy is
often illegible and unformed. But at times it is sufficiently
plain, and suggests boldness and originality.
GLEASON'S PICTOPdAL DRAWING POOM COMPANION.
223
A SURPRISE.
There is a story afloat in Paris relative to the
ascent of a fair marchioness in a balloon. De-
termined to enjoy this novel pleasure, she left
her husband at his estate, not very distant from
Bordeaux, making; an excuse for her absence in
consequence of the serious illness of her mother
ftt Angoulerae. When arrived, liowever, at Bor-
deaux, she took her place in the aerial ship of
M. Goodard, of tlie Hippodrome, and made a
delightful voyage ; but, most unfortunately, as it
might have been, had she not the most confiding
of husbands, the balloon descended upon her
own estate, and the very first person who came
to offer his services to the atmospheric navigators,
was her beloved lord and master.
HU3IAIV EVERGREENS.
Some singers appear to be always young, the
Italians in particular. Not long ago a gentleman
who goes very seldom to the opera, but who pos-
sesses an excellent memory, said to Madame
Grisi, " It is astonishing how like you arc to your
mother!" "You knew my mother?" inquir-
ingly remaiked the lady. " Certainly ; I per-
fectly recollect hearing her in Paris in 1832,
when she played in Nonna." "But, sir, it was
/whom you heard!" " O, that is indeed a
joke !" This gentleman never would believe
that the Grisi of our day was the Grisi of 1832 ;
and he carried his gallantry so far as- to get posi-
tively out of temper about a reality which lie
treated as a mystification.
THE CHINESE E.IUGRAIVTS.
Among the hundreds of Chinese emigrants re-
cently arrived at California from Hong Kong,
are eighteen females, doubtless induced to come
over by the glowing accounts of the country
given by the few of their countrywomen who
have preceded them. They appear to he pos-
sessed of more means than the men, as many of
them were dressed in short gowns and full trous-
ers of purple and blue silk — a perfect specimen
of the Bloomer costume, except the conforma-
tion of the gown, which hung loosely about
them, unconfined by a girdle.
MINIATURE LANDSCAPE.
Von Mander relates that Anne Smyters, the
wife of John de Herre, a Flemish sculptor,
painted a landscape representing a wind-mill
with the sails bent, and the miller appearing as
if mounting the stairs, loaded with a sack. Upon
the terrace, where the mill was fixed, were seen
a horse and cart, and, on the road, several peas-
ants. The whole was highly finished, and pen-
cilled with wonderful delicacy and neatness, and
was also wonderfully distinct ; yet the painting
was so amazingly minute, that the surface of-it
might be covered with one grain of corn !
Large Salaries. — The salary and outfit of
the Commissioner to China (Humphrey Mar-
shall) has been increased to $18,000. The Sec-
retary and Interpreter, Br. Parker, gets $2500 ;
he is also allowed S4000 extra. The consuls at
the five ports in China, viz., Kwang Chow, Fu-
chow, Amoy, Ningpo, and Shanghai, receive
$5000.
Milk. — The quantity of milk brought to New
York, by the various railroads, during the last
six months, is ascertained to have been 91,413
quarts daily, at a supposed value of $443 4G.
The city manufactories (distillery swill) swell
the quantity to 100,000 quarts, costing about
$1,825,000 a year.
A NEW City. — A party of New York capital-
ists, among whom is Mr. George Law, have as-
sociated themselves for the purpose of carrying
out a magnificent undertaking, in the founding
of a new city, opposite New York, on the west
bank of the Hudson.
Hen Fever. — Think of two and even three
hundred dollars per pair for fowls, choice bretds
of hens. Such were the prices paid at tho late
show in this city.
MacAllister. — This famous necromancer is
preparing something wherewith to astonish the
" natives " this winter. He is in New York.
Open and Aboveboakd. — A volunteer com-
pany, called the Fillibusters, is about to be or-
ganized at New Orleans.
Theatrical.— Madame Thillon is still per-
forming in New York city.
lUausliifi ©atljcnugs.
No preacher is so successful as time.
An English paper states that a large number
of /vV/ gloves are now made of rat ski»s.
The total appropriation of the last session of
Congress amounts to upwards of §47,000,000.
Haynau narrowly escaped being mobbed, re-
cently, at Brussels.
Seventy-five married couples were divorced by
the last Alabama legislature.
They fined a man ten dollars at New Orleans
for calling a policeman " hard names."
A Chinese, named Wong Fun, has carried
away a prize at the Edinburgh University.
Dr. Valentine Mott has been elected honorary
Fellow of the Dublin College of I'hysicians.
Ten-thousand a-year Warren has been ap-
pointed to a lucrative office by the English
Government.
The Mormons have established a weekly news-
paper at Hamburg, and have prepared a transla-
tion of their Bible.
A drunken fellow in Cincinnati, a few nights
since, attempted to whip his wife, but she tied
him and marched him to the watch house.
A gentleman, lately deceased, in Amherst
county, Va., by his will left S60G0 to settle his
slaves in one of the non-slaveholding States.
A young widow, in New Orleans, being asked
after her husband's health, answered smilingly;
" He is dead, I thank you !"
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just;
and he but naked, though locked up in steel,
whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
A Western paper states, that a horse and
wagon were drowned in the Ohio, lately. They
had a hard time of it, especially the wagon.
*Tis better to be lowly born, and range with
humble lives in content, than to be perked up
in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.
The mining industry of Chili is in a high state
of development. The yield of silver for 1852 is
estimated at a sum equal to .£2,400,000 sterling.
The Chicago Joui-na! says, that a few days
ago a couple of sportsmen returned from a hunt-
ing excursion, having bagged one hundred and
Jifty pruiiie chickens in a day's shooting.
At Worcester, Mass., in the rooms of the An-
tiquarian Society, there is a copy of the Bible,
printed in Venice, in 1447, being forty-five years
before tlie discovery of America.
Camille Urso, a youthful female violinist of
11 years, with her party, lately arrived in New
York by the Humboldt. She will make a tour
of the United States.
To such a pitch has betting on noted horses
been carried in England, that the Earl of Derby
and the Duke of Kichmond have opened betting
offices in their own houses.
A Yankee has invented a new and cheap plan
for boarding. One of the boarders mesmerises
the rest, and then eats a hearty meal — the mes-
merised being satisfied from sympathy.
Dr. CoUyer, the model artist man, mesmerist,
phrenologist, chemist, etc., received information
by the last steamer that he has become the heir
to S600,000. So says a California paper.
A woman died lately at York, from a bottle
"of nitric acid, which had been for twelve years
unopened in her room, having been accidentally
broken. The deadly effluvium poisoned her.
As the lid of a coffin was about being fastened
down, in Kocliester, the other day, the inmate
was discovered to be living. The poor fellow,
wlio came so near being buried alive, is now
likely to recover.
The Dahlonega (Ga.) Watchman, of the 14th
ult., says it has been shown a pair of tusks from
a wild hog, found dead in the mountains, which,
when placed together, form a cu'clc of sixteen
inches in circumference.
A man named John Davis, about twenty-five
years of age, committed suicide at English's Ho-
tel, Camden, New Jersey, bj'' taking laudanum.
He was employed in the Camden and Araboy
llailroad Office.
In the hereafter of Mahomet, the eternal man-
sions of the Christians, the Jews, the Magians,
etc., are sunk below each other in the abyss, and
the lower Iiell is reserved for the hypocrites who
have assumed the mask of religion.
In the good old town of AVealhersfield, Ct., it
is the custom to toll the age of every person who
dies. Lately, the bell, one of the largest in the
State, was tolled one hundred sti-okes at the
death of a Mrs. Ayrault.
There arc printed in the city of New York, 13
weekly religious papers, with a circulation of
108,900. The largest circulation is 29,000 a
week, and the smallest 1700. All but five have
a circulation of over GOOO.
The tombstones in Turkish burying grounds
are all fiat, and contain little hollows which hold
the water alter a rain, and attract the birds, who
r*'sort thither to slake their thirst, and sing en-
chantingly among the trees.
Saratoga is now desolate, compared with what
it was a few days since. But few families from
other parts of the country are remaining. There
are some few coming in, but there are twice as
many going away.
When Bonaparte once visited the Rhine, he
asked a lumberman how many staves were an-
nually sent down that river. Much to the grati-
fication of Napoleon, who liked above all things
to have reliable statistics, the man answered
, promptly, 27,503,897.
iTorcign illisrcUang.
Henry Russell, the vocalist, is performing in
Loudon.
Experiments are making at Liverpool to liyht
the river Meiseif with the electric light.
A colossal bronze statue, to the memory of
Dr. Jenner, is about to be erected in London.
Miss Baldwin, of Virginia, a niece of Presi-
dent Madison, is teaching a missionary school in
Athens, Greece.
Fanny Kcmble was announced to read the
"Midsummer's Night Dream," at the Norwich
Musical Festival.
The exqueen of the French has purchased
Orleans House, Tickenham, formerly the resi-
dence of Louis Philippe, for .£23,000.
Among other decrees, the Moniteur published
one abolishing the duties at present payable on
the export of raw and sponged silk.
Frank Hartland, the celebrated London panto-
mimist, was killed on the 16th ult., by the falling
of a piece of timber from a new building which
he was passing.
An asylum for poor consumptives is about to
be established at Torquay, in the west of Eng-
land. One lady has subscribed three dollars to-
wards its endowment.
That pitiful, impious and cowardly animal,
Louis Napoleon, has ordered the Due D'En-
ghein's monument, in the chapel of Vinccuncs,
to be removed and defaced !
Three English gentlemen — Mansfield, Compred
and Thompson — have undertaken to sail from
London to Constantinople in an ojjen skifi', 25 ft.
by 3 wide. They have arrived at Rensburg.
A young student of theology at Bonn, Rhen-
ish-Prussia, in a fit of religious insanity, actually
crucified himself loan old tree in a neighboring
forest ! He was discovered, and his life saved
with difficulty.
A Cadiz jounial announces that the line of
steamships plying between Spain and Cuba,
would be speedily reinforced by two other large
steamers, and the departure from Cadiz will then
take place twice a month.
A snake ten or twelve feet long, and of a veno-
mous description, made its appearance in the
cabin of the ship Radiant, when near the English
coast, last month, on the way from Maulmain,
East Indies. After a running fight the reptile
was killed.
Harvest is progressing satisfactorily through-
out the kingdom. In Ireland the potato rot has
subsided, if indeed it ever existed lo any extent.
Reaping of wheat, barley and oats goes on in
all the earlier districts without intermission, and
with favorable weather.
lolicr's JJuLigct.
Saubs of ©olb.
The fickleness of fortune is felt all over
the world.
.... Wine and passion are racks often used
to extort words from us.
.... Liberality consists less in giving much
than in giving wisely.
.... He is no mean philosopher who can give
a reason for half of what he thinks.
Some will listen to no conviction but
what they derive from fatal experience.
Designing hypocrites frequently lay them-
selves open to discovery, by over-acting their
parts.
.... If we did not first take great pains to
corrupt our nature, our natme would never cor-
rupt us. — Lord Clarendon.
.... He who is truly a good man, is more
than half way to being a Christian, by whatever
name he is called. — South.
.... There are no friends more inseparable
than pride and hardness of heart, humility and
love, falsehood and impudence. — Lavatcv,
.... Never hire another person to do the work
which you can well do yourself, unless you are
suitably employed in some other occupation.
.... No man would overcome and endure
solitude if he did not cherish the hope of a social
circle in the future, or tlie imagination of an in-
visible one in the present.
.... A reserved man is in continued conflict
with the social part of his nature, and even
grudges himself the laugh into which he is some-
times betrayed.
.... The precept, " Know thyself," was not
solely intended to obviate the pride of mankind,
but likewise that we might understand our o\\n
worth.
.... The Rev. Mr. Seward advises three
questions to be put to ourselves before speaking
evil of any man : "First, is it true? Second, is
it kind \ Third, is it necessary V
.... What the impulse of genius is to the
great, the instinct of vocation is to the mediocre
— in every man there is a magnet — in that thing
which the man can do best, there is loadstone.
.... With regard to manner, be careful to
speak in a sofr, tender, kind and loving way.
Even when you have occasion to rebuke, be care-
ful to do it with manifest kindness. Tlie eflPect
will be incalculably better. — Uosea Ballon.
.... Truth belongs to the man, error to his
age. For this reason it was said of an extraor-
dinary character, " the evil of the times has oc-
casioned his error, but the force of his mind has
rendered his destiny glorious."
Bombastic eulogy of vegetable diet is now
called " vegetable gas !"
The best adhesive label you can put on lug-
gage is to stick to it yourself.
Why is the Mediterranean the dirtiest of all
seas. Ans. — Because it is the least tide-y.
Why is the east wind like a famous American
painter"? Because it's Ben West.
The individual who was injured by the acci-
dental discharge of his duty has not been heard
of since.
Interesting — to dream all night of finding
heaps of gold, and wonder on waking how you'll
pay for a breakfast.
" Mr. Tompkins, I shall be compelled to raise
your rent this week." " Thank you, sir, I am
greatly obliged — it's more than I can do."
Moses, seeing a chap hoeing, and another
mowing, in the same field, remarked that their
occupations were decidedly /ioir-j/iow-geneous.
A western editor thinks Hiram Powers, the
sculptor, is a swindler, because he chiselled a.n un-
fortunate Greek girl out of a block of marble.
The Daily Times, in a glowing account of a
recent fire, says, that owing to the "almost su-
perhuman efforts of the firemen, the fire was con-
fined to the house." They ought to have put it
^out !
A party of stout countrymen were playing a
game of cudgels in the north of England, when
a spectator gravely observed — " the rustic amuse-
ment of cudgel playing should be abolished, as
it affects ths securily of the crown."
A green 'un (says the Memphis Whig), who
had never before seen a steamboat, fell through
the hatchway down into the hold of t^le Winfield
Scott, and being unhurt, loudly expressed his
surprise — " Well, if the darned thing aint holler."
Every man has his price, so said Walpolo;
hut he never said as much of woman. The fact
is, Walpolc judged the ladies only too correctly,
for he knew, as well as we do, that many of those
dear creatures are beyond all price !
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and biick, and illumined sides, forming a auperb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foot and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
ef Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite vtiriety
of interesting and iostructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustKitious, it embraces in its pages
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F. GLEASON.
PinJLlSUEE AKD PKOPIUETOIt, DoSlOW, MASfl.
224
GLEASON'S IMCTOIUAL DllAWINd lUXJM COMPANION.
VOULE'S SHOT
TOWER.
This cdilicc, a
view of wlik'h is
given below, in
situated at the
footof 54th street,
East River, New
York. It rises to
the height of l7r)
feet; and mcay-
iircs about GO feet
in diameter at the
base. It forms a
most striking ob-
ject of interest.
When we consid-
er the small size
of the. article to
the manufacture
ofwhich this lofty
structure is de-
voted, the means
appear grcatlj
out of proportion
with the result.
Formerly in cast-
ing shot, the ap-
paratus was mere-
ly a plate of eop-
]jcr, in the hollow
of which were
punched a num-
ber of holes. This
was placed a few
feet above a ket-
tle of water, into
whicli tho melted
lead descended,
after passing
tlirough the holes
in the plate. But
in falling so short
a distance, and
being so suddenly
cooled and hard-
ened, the shot did
not acquire a per-
fectly globular
form — a desideratum which is now attained by
means of shot towers. In tlie tower of Mr. Mc-
Cullough, the largest size shot falls from the
summit of the tower to the bottom of a well twcn-
ty-tive feet below the surface of tlie earth, mak-
ing the descent 175 feet. The size of the shot is
determined by the size of the holes through
which it passes. The furnaces for melting the
lead arc situated near the top of tlie tower ; three
or four Ions of shot are manufactured per day,
Tliis mctliod of easting shot was invented by
Mr. Watt, the celebrated engineer, in conse-
quence of a dream. He tried the experiment
VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE SERAGLIO POINT.
from the tower of the church of St. Mary, Rad-
cliffe, and finding it very successful, obtained a
patent, which he afterwards sold for £10,000.
There are now several shot towers in the vicin-
ity of London, and different parts of the world ;
but none more worthy of notice than the one
we present to our readers. An iron staircase
ascends from the base to the summit of the
tower. Arsenic is mingled with the lead in pro-
portion of forty pounds to one ton. In casting,
the metal is poured through a tube, but descends
through the open space of the tower in a contin-
ual stream of silvery drops. As the weight of
the lead prevents it from scattering or being
blown about like water drops, the workmen pass
to and fro, without danger, close by this tiery
cascade. The shot is of different sizes, from
No. 1, swan shot, to No. 12, dust shot. Mr.
James McCullough has brought the art of the
manufacture of the shot to perfection. Certain
portions of his factory are kept entirely secret ;
and the shot manufactured in New York are not
surpassed in the world. The cause of most of
the imperfections in the manufacture of lead
shot is the too rapid cooling of the spherules by
their being dropped too hot into the water,
whereby their surfaces form a solid crust, while
the interior remains fluid, and in its subsequent
concretion shrinks so as to produce the irregu-
larities of the shot. The patent shot towers
originally constructed in England obviate this
evil, by exposing the fused spherules, after they
pass through the cullender, to a large body of
air during their descent into the water tub placed
middle about for-
ty pounds of art<e-
nic tofonn a rich
alloy with the
lead. Cover the
pot with an iron
lid, and lute the
joints (juickly
with loam or mor-
tar, to conline the
arsenical vapors,
keeping up a
moderate fire to
maintain themix-
ture fluid for three
or four hours ; af-
ter which, skim
carefully, and run
the alloy into in-
gots or pigs. The
composition thus
made is in pro-
portion of one pig
to 1000 pounds of
melted lead. Two
or tliree tons are
usually melted at
once in large es-
tablishments. A
crust of oxide of
a white spongy
nature, some-
times called cream
by the workmen,
covers the surface
of the lead, which
is of use to coat
over the bottom
of the cullender.
The cullenders
are hollow hemi-
spheres of sheet
iron, about ten
inches in diame-
ter, perforated
with holes per-
fectly round and
free from burs.
These must be of
a uniform size in each cullender; but, of course,
a series of different cullenders with sorted holes
for every different size of lead shot must be pre-
pared. The operation is always carried on with
three cullenders at a time, which are supported
upon projecting grates of a kind of chafing-dish
made of sheet iron, somewhat like a triangle.
This chafing-dish should be placed immediately
above the fall ; while at the bottom there must
be a tub half filled with water, for receiving the
granulated lead. The cullenders are not in con-
tact, but must be parted by burning charcoal in
order to keep the lead constantly at the proper
temperature, and to prevent its solidifying in the
filter. The height from which the particles
should be let fall varies likewise with the size of
the shot; as the congelation is th.e more rapid,
the smaller they are. The workman then puts
the filter stuff into the cullender, pressing it well
against the sides ; he next gently pours lead into
it with an iron ladle. The centre of the cullen-
[Sce " Turkey and the Turks," p. 215j for deecription.]
youlk's shot tower, east eiver, new yobk.
A DANCER AT A TURKISH CAFE. [Ste " Turkey .and the Turks,'' p 21'.. for dt-friptlni
on the ground. Tlie greatest erection of this
kind is probablv at Villach, in Carinthia, being
240 Vienna, or 240 Englisii feet high. The fol-
lowing is the process ; — Melt a ton of soft lead,
and sprinkle round the sides of the iron pot
about two shovelfuls of wood ashes, taking care
to leave the centre clear. Then put into tho
der being less hot, affords larger shot than tho
sides. Uccasioniilly also the three cullenders
employed togetlier may have holes of different
sizes; the shot will then be of dirtVrent magni-
tudes. These are separated by square sieves of
different fineness ; and after passing throutih oili-
er minute processes are ready fur sale and use.
Fnr f A onxT ( corner bromfeeld
. Wiii^iAiSUXN , j ijjD TREMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1852.
S2 PER VOLUME. I
10 Ct8. single, j
Vol. m. No. 15 —Whole No. 67.
ALMS HOUSE, BIiACKWELL'S ISIiAND.
Our artist has depicted for us below, a very
fine view of this institution. The building in
the foreground is that appropriated to the fe-
males; the one in the distance is used entirely
for the males, and is in the very middle of the
island, opposite the foot of Seventieth Street,
N. y. They consist of two separate edifices, one
for males, the other for females, located at the
distance of six hundred and fifty feet from each
other ; besides these, there is a chapel standing
near the western shore, midway between the
Alms Houses, and a bakery on the eastern shore
near the northern Alms House. These buildings
are all constructed of blue stone rubble masonry
— the materials obtained from the rock of the
island. The two Alms Houses are precisely
alike in forms and dimensions — each edifice con-
sisting of a centre building, with two wings; the
centre building being fifty feet square, and fifty-
seven feet high to the roof cornice, and eighty-
seven feet to the top of the cupola ; and the
wings each sixty by ninety-five feet, and forty
feet high to the roof cornice. The four stair-
case towers in front, and two in the rear, are
each twelve feet square, and fifty feet high. The
basement floor in each building is one step above
the ground, and there are three stories above the
basement in the wings. The centre building
contains apartments for the officers ; the wings
are occupied by the paupers, and are each diWd-
ed into four rooms on each floor, making twenty-
four rooms in the two wings, of twenty-two by
fifty-six feet ; these rooms extend from front to
rear — the windows at each end opening on the
verandas. The cooking, washing, etc., for the
establishment, arc performed in a one story
stone building forty by seventy feet, located one
hundred feet in the rear of the centre building.
The chapel is sixty-five by ninety feet, and thirty-
five feet high to the eaves of the roof. The
basement storv under the church auditorvis nine
feet high, and is arranged as a warehouse for the
stores of the establishments and the offices of the
superintendent and clerks. The auditory, twen-
ty feet high, is a plain room, having a gallery
across one end, the whole fitted with pews, af-
fording about eight hundred seats. The bake-
house is forty by eighty feet, three stories high,
of eight feet each ; the ovens, five in all, arc lo-
cated in the first story; the second story is ar-
ranged for storing flour and bread, and the third
story is occupied by the carpenters, coopers and
shoemakers, for the manufacture of their wares.
In the "Alms House proper," as it is termed, we
have an institution well calculated to be what it
purports. A glance through its various rooms
will show the comfort enjoyed by many an aged
and infirm dependent — some have been there
many years, and it is to them an asylum of hap-
piness in their declining yeai-s. There appears
in these new buildings ample room for present
accommodation ; and, although they have cost
the department a large sum since delivered up
by the contractors to Jitly complete them for
Alms House occupation, they answer, for the
present, the purpose of their erection, but doubt-
less will ever continue, from faulty construction
and design, to be a channel of perpetual expense.
Marcellus Eells, Esq., still continues his super-
intendence, and in his report states that the pau-
pers able to work have been variously employed
in the necessary labor of the house, both mechan-
ical and domestic; and in addition thereto, they
have completed an extent of grading, which adds
beauty and convenience to the surrounding
grounds, and speaks well for the industrial abili-
ties of the inmates, under judicious direction.
This institution has connected with it a suitably
constructed bakery, occupying for its site the
borders of the river. Twenty-five barrels of
flour are daily used up here, and all the branches
of the department, excepting Randall's Island,
arc supplied from this bake-house.
ALMS HOUSE, BLAOKWELL's ISLAND, NEW YORK, AS SEEN LOOKINQ NORTIJ-WEST.
226
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A ROMANTIC STORY OF INCIDENT AND ADVENfURE
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F^ Gleason, in the Clcrli's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written expressly for GLEASOn'S PICTORIAI.]
-OR, —
21 ©rapljic Sak of Spain, Italj) «ni> Qrnglanitr.
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[OONTINTJED.]
-[continued.]
CI-IiVPTER XV-
The blinds were closed, and though one of
liis followers approached the window stealthily,
lie could see notliing, and for a time the evening
silence was unbroken. At last, voices could be
heard, and loud words were spoken. There
was a lady in the case, too, whose tone was rather
masculine, than otherwise, and who had plainly
been deceived or injured in some way by the
old man. And now the conversation became
more animated, and the listener outside — the
very beggar whom Don Miguel had just re-
" warded— stood beneath the lattice, and caught
every syllable of that exciting conference !
" I tell you, Corrinne," continued the old man,
in a severe tone, ** that you cannot act for your-
" self in this fearful matter, and you vnist be ad-
vised. The laws of Naples will protect me in
my guardianship, and you must submit to my
authority. However i/oit may will it, I will never
consent that you shall see this villain again."
" Signor, he is my husband !"
" Pshaw ! Out upon the vile wretch who has
so deceived you. Fly from him — forget him —
and be saved while you may. Or, if you will be
obdurate, I shall interpose my authority, and
compel you to return with me. Nay, do not ap-
peal to my better nature, Corrimic, my purpose
is fixed. We leave Naples to-morrow. I coun-
sel you, then, to accept with becoming grace
what you have not the power to prevent !"
Much more than this was overheard by the
miserable beggar beneath the window, who still
crouched and continued attentively to listen till
the interview was over. He heard the lady ap-
peal to the old man in piteous tones to spare her
— to allow her but one moment's interview with
her husband — but he was obdurate, unflinching,
decisive in his determination.
Even as he skulked beneath that lattice, and
while his ears were drinking in the sobs and
prayers which were uttered by the persecuted
and suffering Corrinne, during her unsuccessful
appeals to her flinty-hearted tormentor, he felt a
hand laid suddenly upon his shoulder, and grasp-
ing a glittering stiletto, as he turned around, he
heard a whisper which he instantly recognized.
*'— 'hist! How is if?"
" As I supposed. She is here."
" Good !"
*' And he is here, too \"
'' He need not go far away from tliis place,"
suggested the other person, " if you but will it !"
And at the same moment the latter drew from
beneath his ragged cloak a shining dagger, which
he clutched firmly and spitefully,
" No, no ! Not now. That will defeat all.
He proposes to bear her av/ay, pei'forcc, to-
morrow."
" Time enough, then."
■' Yes ; but we will be cautious. Mark you
this dwelling."
" That is easily done."
" Do not err, for your life. And now to horse,
instanter ! We will return, anon I"
The beggars were soon out of sight, and as has
already been suspected by the reader, there can
be little question of their identity ! It was Ber-
nard dc Norde who had listened to the threats of
Ruberto and the pleadings of Corrinne for the
last half hour — and his companion in disguise
was the hard-fisted, redoubtable Pierre, his lieu-
tenant. They had contrived to purchase the
dfesses an4 the ij-bscnee of the real beggftrs, who
were kno\vn by their attire, near the hotel, and
assuming the haliits, and manners, and tone of
voice even, which those mendicants were distin-
guished for, they had succeeded in deceiving
Don Miguel completely, and at the same time in
discovering the temporary whereabouts of the
lost but still faithful wife.
The two robbers rode hard to head quarters,
and upon arriving at the retreat of the band, de
Norde sprang from his jaded mare and sum-
moned his clan around him instantly,
"Men!" he said, "1 have an enterprise for
you in wliich I feel far more than the ordinary
interest which attaches to our expeditions, and
for which, if successful in it, you shall be sump-
tuously rewarded for the peril to be incurred."
" What is it, captain ? What is it — where
shall we follow you V exclaimed his comrades,
rife for the proposition, and eager to be busy.
" Fontini — now self-styled Don Miguel Ru-
berto— has played me false again ! He lives,
comrades — he has dared to cross my path, and
has offered our heads for sale to the Neapolitan
authorities."
*' Where is he? where can we find him?"
*' Order, then ! Be quiet, and observe my in-
structions. He is iu Naples; be has stolen my
brightest jewel from me, and I must recover it
and be avenged. Not a moment is to be lost.
Pierre has his instructions from me, in detail.
l<'ollow his orders, and I will meet you at the
scene of action. The mission is one of hazard,
and every man must do his whole duty, for his
own weal and the success of my plan."
" We are ready, captain," was the immediate
response of every member of the band.
In a few minutes all was in complete readi-
ness for the advance. De Norde went forward
at once, and Pierre, with a dozen stout-hearted,
stalwort followers, quickly followed in his com-
mander's footsteps.
At about an hour before midnight, the maraud-
ers entered the city in pairs ; and the final ren-
dezvous having been agreed upon, and the sig-
nals arranged, Pierre proceeded to reconnoitre,
before the attack was undertaken.
The plot was well laid by de Norde, who had
resolved upon making a dash at the dwelling
where Corrinne was confined, and in the midst
of the confusion which must ensue, he determin-
ed to carry her off, at the hazard of his life. It
was a bold step, but no other resource was left
him. There was no time for dallying or diplo-
macy. A coup d' etat was his only alternative,
and he grasped the details of his scheme with
the readiness of an accomplished operator !
CHAPTER XVL
THE ATTACK AND THE KESCTJE.
PnoMPTLY to the moment previously agreed
upon, and at a little after midnight, the band
commenced to enter the city at different points,
and under diiferent disguises, each man being
fuU}"^ armed, and as fully instructed in the part
he should take in the contemplated assault.
Two individuals that were foremost in arriv-
ing at the immediate vicinity of the residence of
Ruberto's friend, stood under the dark shadow
of a high garden wall, and conversed together
in a low but earnest tone of voice. They were
de Norde and his lieutenant.
"Pierre," said the former, " jt is a hazardous
and forbidding undertaking. The ecrvants and
household of Montesquc is large, and the odds
would be against us, luider ordinary circumstan-
ces here ; for I would not harm the person of
this man, who evidently means only to befriend
our antagonist and enemy; neither am I dis-
posed to injure his attendants. He has never
injured me — "
" Hut, the lady Con-inne — "
" Ay, I*icrrc, you arc right. She is a prisoner
there. You may smile at my earnestness, but I
tcU you, in all candor, that witliin the walls of
that mansion there is now imprisoned all that I
hold dear in life. My business is well nigh fin-
ished, Pierre, in the pi-ofcssion — "
" Ciiptain !" exclaimed Pierre, with startling
emphasis and surprise, " what mean you ?"
" Well, well, we will talk of this at another
time ; yet I am disposed to quit the life I have
led so long, and I shall name my successor, you
know, by our rules."
" I have no ambition, captalM, to serve under
any other leader than yourself."
" Thanks, Pierre — thanks. We have stood
by each other's side in many a hard skirmish,
and I know your worth, surely. We will speak
of all this at another time. But our present busi-
ness is a ixiovement of importance to me ; and it
must be adroitly conducted, or blood will of ne-
cessity be spilled to-night. I would avoid this,
Pierre,"
" Your orders will be obeyed, captain."
" I know it ; and this is the reason that I am
now so particular."
" How shall we proceed V
"I will only repeat what I have already di-
rected you to do; but I reiterate it because I de-
sire only to get possession of Corrinne. So,
then, unless we fight for our lives, we will not
discharge a pistol, remember. Our men here
are all athletic fellows, and they must be discreet
and quick in their movements, and all will go
well, I think."
" Will you lead us, captain"?"
"No. You may lead the attack, and instruct
the men to stand upon the reserve, rather than
the offensive. We will force our entrance with
the least possible disturbance, if we find it neces-
sary, though I hope to be able to avoid that al-
ternative, and I prefer to be at my own leisure
afterwards ; for, in person, will I seek Corrinne,
and point out her best mode of escape. See that
the men are properly stationed to guard our exit
at the readiest point, when we appear, and above
all, avoid confusion and noise, unless we are
compelled to use arbitrary force."
" I understand, captain. But how will you
find the lady's room ? Were you ever in the
house?"
" No ; but that will be explained in good time.
Meanwhile are you ready V
" The men are at this moment within hailing
distance. But what have you here, captain V
continued Pierre, as de Norde drew out from
beneath the folds of his massive cloak a rather
wieldy implement.
" This is a part of my armor, Pierre !" replied
Bernard, good-humored ly. " You have seen it
before, and you shall now observe how effective
a weapon this same guitar will prove !"
" Really, captain," said his lieutenant, quickly.
"I had not thought it such a matter, but you
are happy in the selection of so mild a weapon.
The plan is capital, to be sure."
" Retire, then, Pierre, and watch for the result.
I will strike the strings beneath the lower wing
of the dwelling, where I suppose she may rest.
If any response shall follow, be ready at the
word with the men."
" You may count on us, as usual," replied
Pierre ; and the two men parted company.
A few minutes afterward the chords of the
guitar which de Norde had brought with him to
the spot, were swept in artistic style, and a clear,
manly voice, yet soft and subdued in tone, ac-
companied a melody familiar to the ears of the
prisoner within.
The wife of Bernard had retired to her couch
for the night, something more than an hour pre-
viously, but not to slumber. She had wept and
sighed, and yearned for the opportunity to speak
some few parting words to him she loved devot-
edly, and from whom she had been so suddenly
separated.
Her heart was torn with the cruel act of Ru-
berto, which she could scarcely realize was not a
fearful dream, rather than a reality ; and her
brain was wrought up almost to a point of frenzy
when she contemplated the consequences which
must, in her belief, succeed the development
which her guardian had made to her, in reference
to her husband's real cliaracter — if Don Miguel
had informed her correctly I
But the day and night preceding had been a
tcn-ilde period for her young heart, and she
fc;ared to sec ihe morrow's light — that day which
would withdraw her, peremptorily, from seeing
de Norde again, at present, if ever.
And beside this, she tortured her mind with a
thouHsnd imaginary perils which Bernard might
have been subjected to, for she had no means of
knowing what had become of him. Kubcrto had
promised hor that he would be avenged ; and
she fjncicd, as ho had been scrupulously silent
in regard to her husband's fate, that Bernard had
either been sacrificed, or imprisoned, perhaps,
through licr guardian's instrumentality. Por
herself, however much she might have felt in-
clined to seek him out, or aid him, individually
she was powcrles.s — and she could only weep !
Heart-sick and utterly broken down with her
grief, she had thrown herself upon her couch,
and an interval of wakeful sleep had overcome
her, temporarily. The night was far advanced,
and as Corrinne turned upon her uneasy pillow,
she heard, or thought she Iicard, even amid her
agitated, tremulous dream, a well known and fa-
vorite air that she had heard liiin .sing before ! It
was only a dream, though ! And the lovely but
persecuted wife slept on ; for it was sweet even
to dream of the happy hours and scenes which
she had known so recently. The serenade con-
tinued— the harp-string leaped with melodious
sweetness — the voice was the same she had lis-
tened to in brighter hours than, this, and the
words were familiar indeed :
" My bark is on the waters, love I
The breeze is fresh and fair —
Then hie thee 'neath the starlight, love,
My happiness to siiare !
And we'll away — we'll away —
For we may not brook delay I
Our boat is at the shore,
Let's away — let's away."
Corrinne was awake ! She did not slumber !
She did not dream — she was sure of this — and
she sprang to rhc lattice with a heart full of hope !
She gazed abroad, she saw the form of the singer,
she doubted no longer — it was Bernard, her hus-
band ; he was safe, and had come to claim his
bride !
The faithful woman forgot Don Miguel ; she
forgot all he had said of Bernard ; she thought
of nothing on earth save her immediate desire to
see him and fly! No matter who he was, no
matter whither he would bear her, no matter
was it to her heart, at that moment, whether or
not bis name were a terror to others — she loved
him ! And her determination was quickly made
up. Seizing her veil, she advanced to the door
of her chamber, resolved to escape without
another word or thought. But, to her surprise,
after removing her key, she found the door of
her apartments secured upon the outside!
This had been done by order of Don Miguel
himself, lest his fair prisoner, whom he knew to
be equal to such a plot, might conclude to at-
tempt her escape during his absence. Bat her
next movement was prompt and effective. Re-
turning to the window, she leaned forward, and
beheld her husband below, backed by half a
score of friends, who had just responded to the
preconcerted signal.
" Hist !" she said, quickly. " Bernard, am I
not deceived ?"
" No, loved one, you are correct. I came to
rescue you. Haste, we have not a moment to
lose !"
Matters were very soon explained, in distinct
whispers, and de Norde learned that his wife
was locked up in her sleeping apartment, from
which she. had not the means of egress. Every
apparently approachable portion of the dwelling
was quietly examined, but every point was thor-
oughly secured. There was but one plan left
them.
" We must force an entrance," said de Norde,
in a low tone to Pierre ; " there is no other alter-
native. Let us retire to the south wing. After
mounting the piazza there, dash out one of the
windows, and follow me within. Is the horse
saddled V
"Yes, captain, and in charge of Antoinc, close
at hand."
" Good ! Now, then, bring up the men."
In another moment a dozen stout-armed brig-
ands were clustered together beneath the shadow
of the piazza, and a crash was lieai'd as the case-
ment and lattice gave way before them, Tho
entrance was effected, and de Norde rushed on,
headlong, he knew not whither, followed by one
half his band.
They reached the main hall, mounted the
broad stairs, sprang along tho corridor, and the
voice of de Norde was heard to call upon " Cor-
rinne ! Corrinne! Corrinne!" as thev advanced.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DEAWI^^G HOOM COMrANIOX.
227
The household was but slowly astir, for both
the proprietor and his servants slept sountlly.
Yet the confusion had become too great to es-
cape the observance of the sleepers, notwith-
standing Bernard's words of caution, and in a
few seconds, as the shrieks of Corrinne increased,
amid her excitement and fears, the servants and
tiieir master began to tumble out of their beds
and their rooms, to learn what was the trouble.
Tiie attendants rushed along through the dark-
ness— Corrinne continued to shout her husbands
name, and de Nordc was soon before the door of
her apartments.
"Corrinne!" he shrieked, "I am here," and
as the door gave way before the shoulders of hi-j
foremost men, the brigand dashed into the room,
and received his wife in his arras !
Quickly he bore her from her place of confine-
ment, and his faithful comrades advancing before
him, cut a passage out over the falling forms of
the terrified servants, who had crowded them-
selves for a moment upon the stairs and within
the hall below.
rierre advanced, his men closed up the rear;
the retreat was as sudden as the entrance had
been successful, and long before the astonished
Montesquc and his household had had time to
gather up the stunned, but not severely in-
jured, valets, or to inquire what and how it had
been done, Bernard dc Norde, at the side of his
lovely wife, was galloping out of Naples, fol-
lowed by his valiant and faithful men !
Don Miguel was quietly asleep at his hotel.
He had made sure of his victim this time, and he
would leave Naples in the morning, accompanied
by his ward ! Such, at least, had been his in-
tentions !
CHAPTER XVII.
HUSBAND AND WIFE — TIIE EXPLANATION.
The shadows of evening had fallen upon the
earth, three months after the events just naiTated,
and the attention of our readers is now invited
to a happy scene, many leagues distant from the
shores of Italy. We have said it was a happy
scene, and so it was; Corrinne, the beloved of
Bernard — the contented, trusting wife of de
Norde — Corrinne Almanza, tliat was — the true
and loving companion of the whilom robber-
chief, sat by the side of that same brigand, her
lawful husband, in a superbly decorated apart-
ment at the Hotel I'Anglais, at Lyons, in France.
" Once more, Bernard," she said, as he clasped
her soft wiiite hand, and she looked up lovingly
into his handsome face, " once more we are at
ease, comparatively, and safe from annoyance."
" Yes, dear Corrinne," responded de Norde,
affectionately, " we may rest here, after the tu-
multuous and harassing life we have led for the
past tive months, and feel at leisure. 1 promised
you, at the fitting time, to tell you my history,
you remember."
"All, Bernard, you may well believe that I
have not forgotten that. But we have had little
leisure of late to devote to it. Yet now — "
" I will anticipate your wish, and had intended
this evening to explain to you, briefly, all that
you need to know of me and mine."
" Thanks, Bernard ; I shall listen with a grate-
ful ear to what you will repeat."
" Of my early days, Corrinne, I know very
little. As far back as I can remember, I never
knew the smile of a parent ; and I can now but
indistinctly call to mind the friendship, even, of
any particular individual. I was reared in a
place now unknown to me, that is, up to the age,
as I suppose, of some nine or ten years. About
that time, I recollect being placed eai-ly one cold
morning in a diligence, and after a hard ride of
fourteen or fifteen hom-s, was set down at an in-
different looking house in the city of Paris.
" There I continued to reside for three years
afterwards. A small portion of the first two
years I attended a school, and became fond of
study for a while; but, on a sudden, without
any more explanation than had been vouchsafed
to me on my entrance, and with as little cere-
mony or preparation, I made my exit from the
great metropolis, and was taken to a southern
port — Marseilles — where I remained some fom-
years longer, occupied as I had previously been,
and supported by those whom I never knew or
saw.
" The parties who had me nominally in their
charge, were exceedingly lax in their manage-
ment ; and I soon became my own master. I
followed my own inclinations — went whither my
fancy led nie — returned when I thought proper
so to do, and very soon made them tired of look-
ing after me in my wanderings. There appeared
to me to be no required accountability, on my
part, and as I always had a small amount of
money which I could call my own, I frequently
delayed my return home for days or weeks —
when I chose to absent myself.
" In the meantime, I was rapidly growing up,
when, one day, I was informed by my guardian
or keeper, or whatever he was, that my prolecteur
had become bankrupt, and had declined to ad-
vance the means, thenceforward, to defray the
charge of my board and contingent expenses.
And that 1 must find other accommodations, and
the means, too, to take care of myself, forthwith.
'" X was thus thrown upon the world without a
franc — for I had expended all my money, weeks
beforc\ and was then waiting and expecting to
receive i;, remittance — which did not come, by
the way, ot all ! I knew no way to turn to ob-
tain a living, and I had not had a suitable edu-
cation for ordinary business pursuits.
**But, during the time I had resided in Mar-
seilles, I Inid met with a famous juggler of as-
tonishing deceptive powers, into whose good
graces, before I had been driven from the iiomc
I supposed I could enjoy forever, I had ingrati-
ated myself, and who took, a singular fancy to
me, for my aptness in acquiring a knowledge of
his tricks and various manceuvenrgs. To him,
then, amid my prospective difficulties, I immedi-
ately appealed ; and he willingly assisted me,
when I madekno'wn to him my unfortunate posi-
tion. I was at that time some twenty years old,
I suppose.
" III a few months of constant practice as his
confederate, in public and private, I became con-
versant with his system of machination and leg-
erdemain, and after accompanying him through
a continental tour, which comprised some three
years subsequently, and studying attentively the
science of the magical or " black " art, as it was
termed, I became a proficient in the business,
changed my real name for an incognita -which
much better served my purposes, and started
upon my own account.
" I was eminently successful for a time, but
my star of good fortune deserted mc in an evil
hour, and I made the acquaintance of a rascal
who imposed upon and well nigh ruined mc, ere
I liiul the power or the will to recover from the
dream which succeeded."
" And who was this person V asked Corrinne,
with deep sympathy.
" You shall learn anon. As I have said, in
the midst of comparative prosperity, I encoun-
tered, one night, at the hotel where I was t-em-
porarily halting, a stranger of prepossessing ap-
pearance and manners, who had during the eve-
ning attended one of my exhibitions — so he said
— and who desired my company afterwards at
supper. I joined him; we ate and we drank,
and I only knew that he recounted to me certain
exploits upon the highway and in the mountains,
in which he had been engaged, and that I was
fascinated with his glowing descriptions of the
jolly and easy life of a brave brigand! I listened
to him, gave him my confidence and my prom-
ise, and \\'ithin the week joined his robber-band
and became an outlaw, under command of the
notorious Fontini !"
''Fontini^' queried Corrinne, thoughtfully;
"Fontini! Siu'cly I have heard that name
before."
" Yes, loved one, you have; but listen a mo-
ment yet. I continued with him for some few
years, became his lieutenant at last ; served him
and'his cause, to my own frequent discomfiture
and peril, and when he had amassed and secured
a Iiandsome fortune as chief of the clan, lie re-
tired and named me his successor ; with a vol-
imtary promise of aid whenever I might need it
at his hands.
" Years passed away. I was at times success-
ful, at other limes unlucky. I contrived to save
some portion of the ill-acquired gains of the band,
but at last became in a measure needy ; and
then I cp.llcd upon the man whom I had helped
to make rich, for his promised aid in my emer-
gency ; but he scouted me, and refused to oblige
me with the loan of a few hundreds of the many
thousands he had obtained througli my assist-
ance. It was not my money ; but it was not his !
And I demanded what he declined to lend me.
" Corrinne ! I see by your tremor and excite-
ment that you suspect the rest. Be calm ; trust
in me as you have trusted; and be sure that you
will never liave cause to regret your love or your
confidence. As I hope for mercy and indulgence
here or hereafter, what I now speak to you is
tmth ! That ingrate- coward, Fontini, was your
guardian, the self-styled Z)on i\Ht]uel Ruherio I"
" Mon Dieu !" exclaimed the wife, scarcely
knowing what she heard or wliat she said ; "ray
God ! how have I been thus deceived !"
" Speak, then, Corrinne Almanza!" continued
de Norde, wildly, " speak ! Tell me, in one
word, what is now to he the fate of Bernard de
Norde ! How I have loved you, how my all of
hope, of joy, of life is wrapped up in your weal
and happiness, I will not repeat to you. Tell
me, I say, am I still loved, still honored ? Shall
I still retain your affection and your confidence,
since now you know inii secret and your oicn V
She sprang upon his neck, and while ho kissed
away the flood of tears that gushed from the
fountain of her overcharged heart, as she remem-
bered all that she had passed through for him,
and with him, in the past few months, she reas-
sured him of her unalterable affection forever !
under all circumstances that might yet be in store
for them in the future !
" Bernard !" she said, " if it may afford you
one moment of joy, or if it shall haply be tlie oc-
casion of relieving you from a doubt of my de-
Totedness, let me pledge anew to you the earn-
estness of that love, the whole of that heart which
you alone have ever occupied. I am your wife,
Bernard — your trusting, loving wife ! Believe
me, I am yours, now and ever !"
Of a truth was it a happy scene. Corrinne
had now learned from the lips of the only man
she had ever loved, his story from his childhood.
She could easily conceive how such a man as
she knew Don Miguel to be, could manage to
entangle and lead astray an ardent, careless
youth, like her lover, in his earlier years. But
all had now been explained to her satisfaction,
and she could look forward to the future with
brighter hopes.
Bernard had assured her that his " professional
business" in the mountains was over. He had
already separated himself from his band, and
measures were at that moment in progress for
the pardon of the brigands, from both the Span-
ish and Portuguese governments, who were
about to issue their proclamations to this effect,
after in vain endeavoring to subdue the robbers
by force.
De Norde had resolved upon quitting the con-
tinent, and purposed to retire to England to re-
side with his fond and lovely wife. He had not
saved much out of the gains of his " lieuten-
antcy," but iu his magical profession he was
still an adept, and he did not fear for the future,
in a pecuniary view.
CHAPTER XVin.
RUnERTO, BERNARD AND CORRINNE.
"WiiEN Don Miguel arrived at his friend's
mansion in Naples, and learned the story of Cor-
rinnc's escape, and the particulars of the night
attack of the I'obbers, he was not at a loss quickly
to determine in his own mind by whom the cap-
turers were led on, in this bold and reckless en-
terprise. He was very much exasperated at the
result of the scheme, and his regrets were great
at the loss of his ward again ; the possession of
whose person he thought he had made himself
sure of !
He left Naples forthwith, returned to the vi-
cinity of Seville, where, with his large means he
had been erecting his house again, and after a
few weeks delay and inquiry, he started for the
north, once more, in search of the fugitives. He
met witli no success, however ; and was unable,
with all his cunning and management, to obtain
a word of accurate information regarding Ber-
nard or Corrinne.
At last, though he dreaded the peril of the
undertaking, lest he should be beaten or foiled
in his plan, at heavy cost, perhaps, he resolved
upon going to the mountains once more, among
his old haunts, where he would be able, haply,
to meet with some of his former followers, who
perhaps would give him such a clue to the where-
abouts of de Norde, as would afford him a meet-
ing with him upon such terms as he could best
arrange afterwards.
With this determination, he left such directions
for the finishing of his mansion as were necessa-
ry, and departed upon his proposed journey.
Witliin a fortnight he had learned all t\\s,t I^e
desired, from communication with a straggler or
two whom he bribed, en route, and with hjgh
hopes, instead of returning to Seville, he pro-
ceeded on toward Paris with the religious inten-
tion of arresting and denouncing Bernard as
soon as he should chance to fall in with him.
But his former lieutenant was not easily trapped,
and he had not been idle either, since his arrival
in France.
On the third evening after the interview we
have just narrated between de Norde and Cor-
rinne had occurred, a gentleman called at their
lodgings in Lyons, and inquired if the " Count
Antienne" could be seen — this title being the
cognomen which Bernard still used, for his tem-
porary piu'poses. The count chanced to be ab-
sent at the opera, and tlie gentleman retunied
again, three hours subsequently, to see him upon
business of importance.
When the count alighted from his carriage,
and handed his wife up the hall to his parlor,
this stranger stood quite near his door ; and the
attendant passed him the latter's card as he was
about to enter his room. The gentleman fol-
lowed him directly into the apartment, and as
de Norde read the name of Raberio upon the card
in his hand, he started ; but the gentleman said :
" At your service, count. Do you recollect
The attendant retired, the door was closed,
and the three old acquaintances stood together,
not a little embarrassed or alarmed — Buberto,
Bernard, and Corrinne !
It was with difficulty that the wife of de Norde
found herself able to stand, for an instant, for
she could not account for this strange and sud-
den apparition. As for de Norde, his wits did
not often desert him ; but now he felt peculiarly
ill at his ease, under the unexpected circumstan-
ces. Don Miguel was stern, firm, impudent,
and as cold as marble !
" I see — you do recollect me, count," he re-
marked, as soon as suflScient time had elapsed
for a thorough recognition. "And as for you,
signora," he continued, turning severely to Cor-
rinne, " you, I think, cannot have forgotten Don
Miguel Euberto, your protector, friend and legal
guardian !"
" Shall we not be seated?" inquired Don Mig-
uel, with affected blandness, for the moment.
" I have a little business of some consequence
here to-night, and my time is precious. So,
since we know each other, we will dispense with
formalities, count, by your leave."
Bernard was waiting a little to recover himself
from the impi-ession which the unanticipated
presence of his enemy had caused ; and he quick-
ly answered :
" By what right, signer, you now intrude your-
self upon ray privacy, I am altogether at a loss
to decide. I am here — "
"As the Count Antienne, nominally," said
Ruberto, with warmth, " but really as Bernard
de Norde, the outlaw — a robber, for whose head
the Spanish government have made a standing
offer of five hundred ducats!"
" And you are — "
"Don Miguel Buberto!" said the Spaniard,
instantly. " A man who comes hither with sub-
stantial credentials, which it is not now in yonr
power to invalidate ; and who has a long account
to settle with a knave and a thief. As for the
lady, yonder — "
" Slie is my wife, signor !"
" She is mij ward, villain !" responded Ruberto,
sharply. " And, as I live, she will leave Lyons
in my charge."
"Never!" said Corrinne, bravely. " O, sig-
nor— " she then added, more timidly, for she
scarcely knew what she had said, in her excite-
ment. " O, signor, if there remain in your heart
one spark of feeling for her whom you professed
to have regarded as your child, I conjure you do
not pursue us farther; do not place my husband
again in peril !"
" Corrinne !" exchi,imc<l de NoA'de^ excitedly,
"I desire that you retire at once, and leave us to
adjust our business like men."
" No, no,, no !" shrieked the wife, in miserable
dread, " do not urge me thus, Bernard; do not
drive me away ! I beseech you suffer me to re-
main beside you, whatever is to be the result of
this painful meeting."
" You will grant my request, Comnne, on tii^s
occasion, I know," responded de Norde, kindly.
" This interview has nought qf interest fpj- yftiir.
ears, and I insist-^"
" No, no ! I will not leave you, Bernard ! By
our love, oiyhppcs, our promises and faith, I
beg you not to deny my presence here. I will
he calm, dear Bernard, and since yciii iivis^ it,
^vill have nothing more to say,"
[to Bfl CONTINPED.]
Yjce aiifl laziness have everywhere their vota-
ries, and the vestiges of the "shabby footstep"
are to be met with in all places. No human be-
ings ever congregated into a community without
including among themselves the just and the
unjust, the wise and the ignorant, the evil and
the good.
228
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
r"
^W. ^-
Wi
1 / . J%
DRY DIGGING ON THE TURON.
A CRADLER.
GOLD FIELDS OF AUSTRALIA.
On this and the opposite page we give a
very interesting series of pictures exhibiting
the present operation of the gold diggers on
the Turon River, in New South Wales. The
Turon is a river rising in the county of Rox-
burgh, near Cullen Cullen, which divides that
county from Wellington, and also flows into
the Macquarrie. Upon this modern Pactolus
has been planted Ophir, named from the
"golden land" of Scripture. Tlie first and
second sketches illustrate the difference be-
tween " dry diggings " and " wet diggings."
The wet diggings are those carried on in the
bed of a river; the dry diggings, in the gen-
eral spread of drift lying over the country.
Wc can now understand why it is that gold-
washing, or the extraction of golden frag-
ments from the drift of a country is much
more profitable than gold-mining. In gold-
mining vast quantities of hard rock have to
be quarried and removed, to be crushed by
powerful machinery, and to be washed over
and over again, or to be treated by other ex-
pensive processes; while in gold-washing, or
separating gold from drift, all the mining and
the crushing, and a good part of the washing
of materials have been already done for the
miner by nature. It is woithy of note that we
owe the discovery of gold in Australia to the
high state of geological science. Sir R. Mur-
cliison, in his address to the London Geo-
graphical Society in 1844, alluded to the pos-
sibly auriferous character of the Great East-
ern Chain of Australia, being led thereto by
his knowledge of the auriferous chain of the
Ural, and by his examination of the Count
Strzelecki's specimens, maps and sections.
Some of SirR. Murchison's observations hav-
ing found their way to the Australian papers,
a Mr. Smith, at that time engaged in some
iron works at Berrima, was induced by them
in the year 1849 to search for gold, and he
found it. He sent the gold to the Colonial
Government, and offered to disclose its local-
ity on payment of ^500. The government,
however, not putting full faith in the state-
ment, and being, moreover, unwilling to en-
courage a gold fever without sufHcient reason,
declined to grant the sum, but ottered, if Mr.
Smith would mention the locality, and the
discovery was found to be valuable, to reward
him accordingly. Very unwisely, as it turns
out, Mr. Smith did not accept this offer ; and
it remained for iVIr. Hargraves, who came
with the prestige of his California experience.
GmhPnm QMPum.
RIVER-BED CLAIM ON THE TURON.
to re-make the discovery,
and to get the reward
from the English govern-
ment on their own condi-
tions. The first discovery
was made in the banks of
the Summer Hill Creek
and tlie Lewis Ponds Riv-
er, small streams which
run from the northern
flank of the C^nobalas
down to the Macquarrie.
The gold was found in
the -land and gravel accu-
mulated, especially on the
inside of the bends of the
brook, and at the junction
of the two water-courses,
where the stream of each
would be often checked
by the other. It was coarse
gold, showing its parent
site to be at no great dis-
tance, and probably in the
quartz veins traversing
the metamorphic rocks
of the Conobalas. Mr.
Stutchbury, the govern-
ment' geologist, reported
on the truth of the discovery, and shortly after-
wards found gold in several other localities,
especially on the banks of the Turon, some
distance northeast of the Conobalas. This
was a much wider and more open valley than
the Summer Hill Creek, and the gold accord-
ingly was much finer, occurring in small
scales and flakes. It was, howcvt r, more
regularly and equably distributed through the
soil, so that a man might reckon with the
greatest certainty on the quantity his daily
labor would return him. At the head of the
Turon River, among the dark glens and gul-
lies in which it collects its head waters, in the
flanks of the Blue Mountains, the gold got
" coarser," occurred in large lumps or nug-
gets, but these being more sparingly scattered.
In description of our illustrations: — 1. Dry
Digging on the Turon. — This claim has proved
one of the richest finds on the river; it was
originally in the possession of two boys, nam-
ed Ranger, who worked about one fourth and
procured several hundred pounds worth of
gold. The remainder of the ground was pur-
chased by a Mr. T. W. Campbell, for £700,
and it has since yielded in one day about
ninety ounces of gold — about 400 ounces be-
ing taken after the purchase. The largest
piece of gold yet found on the Turon, we
learn, is " The Mitchell Nugget." This mag-
nificent pieceof gold, weighing 53 oz. 8 dwts.,
was met with opposite IMundy Point, on the
Turon River, New South Wales. It is per-
fectly solid, and is a quarter of an inch thick
generally, increasing in some places to half
an inch. It was not got out of the bed of the
river, but of a former channel of the waters,
now upheaved about 100 feet above the pres-
ent water level. This is the largest piece yet'
found on the Turon. Only the Ophir Dig-
gings have yielded such masses. In the Riv-
er-Bed Claim are shown the men at the pump,
which is lowered to the depth of twelve or
fourteen feet from the surface. It is support-
ed by two saplings, placed on either side, and
extending across the pit or shaft, which is
generally from twelve to fourteen feet in
width. The workmen at Ihe pump are sup-
ported on a sheet of bark, which is placed
across the saplings, as is also the figure bend-
ing over for the purpose of raising the bucket
containing the earth or washing -stuff. The
bark shoot, which is attached to the pump,
conveys the water in the direction of the crad-
ler in the foreground, where it is received in
a basin or hole made for the purpose : this
WASHIJNG THE GOLl .
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAWIXG ROOM COMPANIOX.
229
METHOD OF REM0\1NG GOODS.
DODGING THE COJIMISSIONER.
plan is generally adopted, unless the channel of the river is near
at hand, as it saves the labor of carrying? tlie earth, in some places,
upwards of 150 yards. In the cut representing tlie Cradler,
given on the preceding page, a sturdy figure is shown in the atti-
tude of rocking and baling ; and it requires both muscular
power and practice to make a good
cradler. Many there are who, in the
summer months, rock nine or ten
hours a day; the work is constant,
and boars very heavily on the left arm
and right wrist. The hopper, which
receives the earth and stones, when
filled, often weighs from fifty to sixty
pounds, and before the earth is washed
off, drags very heavily ; and the baler
or dipper holds from two to three
quarts of water. There is, however,
much difference in cradles, and the
manner of pitching them : the rockers
should be well shod with iron, and the
sleepers should also have an iron
tram ; when the cradle, if properly
poised, will run smoothly and evenly.
Many of the cradlers lose a third or
more of the gold for want of a proper
use of the rocker. Rivers are great
natural cradles sweeping off all the
lighter and finer particles at once, the
heavier ones either sticking against
natural impediments, or being left
wherever the current slackens its force
or velocity. A cradle is a wooden
trough, wiih several " cleets," or ribs
fastened across its bottom. Into the
head of it is placed a quantity of
auriferous sand or gravel, water is
poured over it, and motion communi-
cated by rocking and tilting the cra-
dle. The running water carries off
all the lighter matter, and leaves the
heavy stone; and lumps of gold either
in the head of the cradle, or accumu-
lated at its bottom against the "elects" fastened across to arrest
them. Turning the bed of a river, then, wherever such a ma-
noeuvre is practicable, is like a miner examining the bottom of
his cradle ; and if it happens to be done at the right spot, where
there are several natural " elects," or bars, or where there are
holes in the rock for the gold to drop into, it is likely to be re-
warded very richly by the accumulated results of centuries of nat-
ural gold washings. On the preceding page is also given a cut
representing children cradling, many of whom earn a considerable
sum. Some children thus earn from £3 to £4 per week. Many
A DISAPPOINTED GOLD SEEKER.
POST-OFFICE, SOFALA, TURON RIVER.
work the earth that has been previously run through the cradles
from some of the richer claims ; and as many of the cradles, from
bad management, lose a great quantity of gold, tbe lads make a
good living. Three shillings worth of gold are sometimes ob-
tained from a single pan of refuse on the banks of the Turon.
The manner of wasliing the gold is also shown on tbe preceding
page. Suppose the day's cradling over : the miner takes to the
water's edge the tin disli, or "prospecting pan," wherein the gold
is mostly placed when scraped from the cradle side ; he then dips
the dish into the water, and quickly draws it upwards, by which
motion the portions of earth and gravel gradually slide out of the
pan. When any of the lighter particles of gold show on the sur-
face, the tin is shaken by a sharp motion of the arms, in a hori-
zontal direction, backwards and forwards, when tlie gold almost
immediately sinks to the bottom of the dish. The washing re-
quires some care and practice. Beginners use two dishes : one to
hold the water, so that any gold escaping from the first is not lost.
The usual method adopted by the gold seekers of the Turon in
sliifcing tlieir goods from one locality to another, is represented
in the engraving above. The handbarrow is soon found ; two
saplings are cut, on them a few wooden stretchers are tied cross-
wise, and a piece of bark placed upon them, the goods being
lushed over all. In the annexed engraving is given a representa-
tion, of gold-seekers dodging the commissioner. The seeker hav-
ing discovered gold, next obtains a license, which is granted on
application to the commissioner. Sometimes, however, disputes
arise ; and here we have a commissioner settling a dispute with
two of the diggers ; he is attended by one of the mounted police
force, who carries the license-book. In this picture, also, are seen
some cradlers and diggers at work ; and a few " absconders," who
are endeavoring to evade the commissioner, being either unable
or unwilling to pay the license-money. In the extreme distance
on the heiglits are some of the mounted police cutting off the re-
treat of the *' absconders " up the gully. Jn the engraving above
is given a picture of the post office at Sofala, on the Turon. This
rud.e "public office" is built with timber uprights and window-
bars, and is roofed with sheets of bark. The golden dream is
often broken with sad realities here as elsewhere. There are
many persons at the gold fields who have worked hard and strug-
gled for months, with little or no success ; while others are, in a
like ratio, fortunate. One of the former class is portrayed here :
he has been digging at tlie root of a tree, and his dejected and
vexed expression tells with wliat ill fortune. In our series, "last
of all comes death" — The Gold Seekers' Graves on the Turon.
In this lone locality is the last earthly resting-place of three gold-
seekers. The centre mound, immediately beneath tbe tree, is the
grave of a gentleman long known and respected in the colony,
and whose premature loss was deeply regretted. The convict
population of Australia is becoming an orderly society under the
nilliience of the gold discoveries. Despite of the ruinous effects
of fifty years of felony, domestic relations and domestic virtues
are rapidly growing up. Homesteads are eagerly sought after by
the men who have laoored for a few mdntlis in the rivere and
creeks. The Australian gold-digger has no sooner filled his
pockets, then ho sets to work to settle his wife comfortably in a
cottage with a neat garden There is a very general disposition
in the successful miners to invest their earnings in real estate. In
closing this scries of sketches, some little account of the geogra-
phy of Australia may not be uninter-
esting. The continent of Australia
lies between 10 deg. 39 min. and 39
deg. II min. south lat., and extends
from 113 deg. 5 min. to 153 deg. 16
min. east long. In form it is very
compact; its greatest length, from
west to east, between Dirk Hartoy's
Point and Sandy Cape, being 2400
miles, its greatest width from north
to south between Cape York and
Cape Wilson, 1971 miles. Its aver-
age length and width may perhaps be
estimated at 1800 and 1500 miles re-
spectively; its coast-line at 7750 miles,
and its area is estimated at about
, 3,000,000 square miles. A remark-
'^^^A'^'w 1 1 I ^'*^^ feature in the Australian coast is
•^ «SS 1.(1 1 I ^- jj^g j.Qj^| absence of outlets for any
large rivers. The south coast, through
a length of more than 20 deg., is gen-
erally low and sandy, with only hero
and there some eminences, and scarce-
ly anywhere exhibiting a high inland
country. On the east a range of
mountains rises at no great distance
from the coast, extending from the
southern extremity of the continent
as far, at least, as the 26th parallel,
and, most probably, as far as Cape
T '^£^1—^^^^ ^""^ York, on Torres Straits, the most rc-
~ — Tr:=>-j .- mote point of the mainland towards
the north. Low levels, with only
here and there some elevations of no
character, mark, also, tlie shoi'e west
of Carpentaria, as far as Cape Lon-
donderry, where the land begins to
trend towards the southwest. The west coast, as low as 22 deg.,
and, again, between 13 deg. and 16 deg. south, appears to re-
semble that on the east. Between 22 deg. and 14 deg. 500 miles
of roast are wholly unknown. On our last page will also be
found another view relating to the gold of Australia.
GOLu seekers' graves on the turon.
230
GLEASON'S PICTOrJAL DRAWING UOOM COIMPANION.
[Writtuii for aioiisoii'H I'lctoriiil.]
WHKltE AUK TllOai-: FJjOWEKS!
IIV 0. U. DUNN.
IVhore iini tlioso ilowors that Mooiiiod hi Juno,
Tlinm* lloworH tliiit wcvti m swi'L't;
WJioso fVaf.;rant lips, ftt niorn'H firot hour,
AVith lil'u'H full pulso (.lid bent?
Yes, whoi't' ar« ttioci! flwcrt cuihleiiiK biiyht,
Thiit UMi:d to mi tho valo
With fuiiios of iiicoiiHi! over swuiit,
Aud hcautify tho tlalo?
I Hiiilly whisper, tihoy am gone,
Bright Huunior's fairost Howltb ;
They liountombod in Itiify graven,
That Ml(!op 'noath sylvan howui'S.
Those lovoly flowurs that bloomed in Juno,
Were beautiful aud sweet;
■When on tliclv lips woro visible,
The tread of dewy feet.
But atiglit that'll animato mu&t die,
The beautiful and pure :
Alike the wicked and corrupt
Are no'er from deatli secure.
Thus pasted away thoi^o Howers of Juno,
Mid nature's wildest bowers;
They perished, for their lives were but
One tieeting week of hours.
[Ti'vitteu for Cleason'^s Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. V.
OFFICEES OF STATE.
BY BR. JE110M13 V. C. SMITH,
ADTHOK OF A "PILGBIUAOE TO EGYPT."
The Grand Vi/.icr is, theoretically, the first
and most important personage in the govern-
ment next to the Sultan. Still, the hlack eu-
nuch, who is constantly brought in contact with
the sovereign, from the peculiarity of his func-
tions, is truly more influential, and has a better
opportunity of influencing the opinions of his
master, than any other man in tlie nation, how-
ever exalted his oflicial station.
A council of ministers is termed the divan, of
which the Sadrazan, or the Vizier, is president.
The Kaimakan is a singular kind of officer,
whose business is to represent the Grand Vizier
in processions, when he happens to dislike the oc-
casion or fatigue of the ceremony; or he sits to
represent him in the department of state, when
he does take it into liis head to appear before
the people on certain occasions.
The Seraskier Pasha, commander-in-cin'ef of
the land forces, Tophdgi Pasha, commander of
the artillery, Capudan Pasha, commander of the
navy — who is positively absolute in wh.atever re-
lates to the marine forces — while the Tersana
Emini is the minister of marine, Eels EfTcndi,
secretary of state for foreign affairs, Tefterdav
Effendi, minister of linance, Kiaja Bey, minister
of the interior, Chiaoush Bashi, minister of
justice.
The Stamboul Effendi is prefect of police, in
Constanthiople, who secures public tranquillity
and security. The Sheik Islam is the Grand
Mufii, equivalent to the lord bishop of Canter-
bury— being the head and fountain of religion,
and also of the law. Whenever it is his master's
pleasure to ]mt him to death, a fundamental or-
dmance of tlie empire requires it can be done in
no other way than by pounding him in a movtar.
Immediately below these are various orders of
dignitaries in the administrative department,
quite too numerous to particularize in this brief
outline of the organization of the government.
In all respects, tliey correspond to public ser-
vants of all grades necessary for conducting the
machinery of state in all countries. The only
essential difference is in their names, rather than
duties. The royal household, however, is con-
ducted wholly unlike any other imperial estab-
lishment on earth, and naturally enough took
the direction which polygamy and exhaustless
resources would be likely to assume.
Without narrating the customs that were for-
merly dominant, in wliich the Kislar Agha had
the Sultan's car almost exclusively, and com-
bined with the great office of keeper of the maid-
ens, that of a minister of state, the court cLiquette
of to-day will only be considered.
One of the barbariries attending the domestic
establishment of the Sultan, is the large body of
black andwliitecunuehs. They are poor, feeble,
lialf-devcloped creatures^ maimed and degraded
in boyhood, that they may be spies and masters
over a collection of the mo.st beautiful females
t'uit can be procured. They arc, of com'se, with-
ou amilicB or relatives. Some of them, who
have been favorite.'i either with the Sultan or the
ladies, have occasiomilly amassed considerable
money. Tliis is winked at in llicin v/licn it
would not be tolerated in others.
Their po.sition is singular in all respects, but
far Ironi enviable in the estimation of the masses.
U an error should lie detected in one of the la-
dies, woe to the cnimch — his head would be
chopped off as quickly as nn offending odalisipie
could be drowned in a sad;.
TIhjso wlio have nuule themselves familiar
with the duties of the various conhdential olliccrs
about the Sultan and his immediate family
household, concur in this, that the Kislar Agha
has unlimited authority over the females of the
royal apartments. He enters or goes out at his
pleasure. It is the most confidential post within
the gift of the ruler. Of course he is an eunuch,
an African, and a purchased slave. His title is
Dar-us Siadet Agliaci, wliich means, literally,
master of the palace of felicity — ranking with
the vizier. In going to mosque with the Sultan,
he follows the Capudan Pasha.
The present Kislar Agha is quite a small per-
son, and quite black. He and his assistants arc
spies upon the kadines and all other females in
the royal palaces and harem, and are permitted
to gather pi'operty. Some of them, through the
munificence of their imperial sovereigns, have
accumulated large fortunes, which invariably fall
to the Sultan at their decease, as docs that of
their superior.
Eunuchs arc sure to bring large prices, if they
are well grown, properly trained, and are muti-
lated in the improved manner — an awful maim-
ing process, exceedingly destructive to life ; for
scarcely one in twenty survives the revolting
operation to which they are subjected while boys.
In my Pilgrimage to Egypt, a detailed account
is given of the cruelties practised upon poor Af-
rican lads, to fit them for sife servants in the ha-
rems of Egypt, Persia and Turkey. They seem
to feel the importance of their position, and con-
duct tlieraselves over their dependents with a
haughtiness of carriage becoming more dignified
personages. They are petted both ways — by the
ladies and the proprietor — for the sake of the fa-
vors at their disposal. In the harems of pashas,
their duties are precisely what they arc in the
palace ; but the position is not so influential or
lucrative.
A degree of mystery hangs over the origin of
tlie white eunuchs. We saw several of them
sitting listlessly about the corridors of the unique
building within the old seraglio enclosure. They
had small features, were beardless, imperfectly
developed, and had a feeble, shocking gait.
Where they are procured, by whom they are
emasculated, their price, or the duties assigned
to ihein, could not be satisfactorily ascertained.
I am inclined to the opinion that black are in
higher repute than white eunuchs.
From the earliest ages in Asia Minor, eunuchs
have been in request, and for the same purposes
that they are still prized for in Mahomraedan
countries, viz., to guard the females of harems.
It shows that polygamy has been an institution,
or rather an outrage on the rights of the sex for
thousands of years ; and the only hope of their
emancipation and tlie recognition of their wrongs
wholly depends on the benign influence of Chris-
tianity, where the darkness of Mahommedanism
has debased and demoralized so large a portion
of the human race.
A gentleman familiar with the language, and
who interested himself in procuring facilities for
conducting investigations in Constantinople,
proposed to make me acquainted ivith a German
woman, who has been the midwife of tlie Sul-
tan's harem ever since he assumed the reins of
government; on account of the extraordinaiy
revelations it was in her pow^r to make, illustra-
tive of the internal economy of that blue cham-
ber where no natural man ever enters, save liis
imperial highness, the Padislia himself, who is
styled in those mjsterious premises, Shadow of
God!
He assured me that if she had a mind to write
simply what she knew from actual observation
of the harem, its varied transaciions of all kinds
and hues, it would be astounding beyond any
revelation ever made. To my regret, circum-
stances not easily controlled, being- in company
with persons who were in haste to leave for
Greece, the interview was prevented. She will
doubtless be paid her price for keeping still, for
were she to return to Germany and make a
book, what a work it would be !
A Caftan Aghassy, keeper of the robes. Too-
toonjce, or head pipe-kccpcr, Tchokndar, chief
of the indoor servants, Khaznadar, treasurer,
Khavcjee Basliy, collec keeper, ICihirgcc Agha,
store keeper, Sofrajee Bashy, table ormimenlcr,
Berbee Basliy, barber, Imrakbar, groom of the
slal)ics, Vekil-hiirj Agha, clerk of the kitchen,
Ilai'cm Kihayaswy, harem provirler, Aslijee Ba-
shy, iiead cook, Ilarem Agliassy, first eunuch,
Caponjy, head porter, Saire Bashy, first groom,
Saraedar, first factotum, are all important fellows
in llicir way.
Of tlie cyalets, or provinces, into which Tur-
key is sub-divided, it is sufiicicnt to remaik that
there is a court with a president, under the title
of Molal), and a Mufii, or attorney. A Sarijiak
is a province, in which a great law oificer, a
Kadi with his inferior assistants resides.
In Constantinople, the number of clerks at-
tached to all and every grade of olficc for ton-
ducting the state and municipal affairs is enor-
mously lai'ge. Blanks not being printed, to any
extent, and the utility of the press in facilitating
business apparently unknown, or at least, not
acknowledged, the government is precisely in
,the condition of the kingdoms of Europe before
the discovery of printing. Every record and
every do'cument are executed with a pen. Accu-
racy, therefore, and despatch, requkes a vast
body of writers — even a censor to see that mis-
takes are not made, is indispensable. Perhaps
there are 5000 pen-clerks in the service of the
Sultan iu Constantinople, whose pay is quite
small, valuable as their services are.
As with us, the heads of departments, however
unimportant they may be, get all the pay, and
do but little themselves ; while the real laborers
sustain the fatigue and drudgery, and scarcely
enough is paid them to sustain life.
[Written for Glea&on's Pictorial.]
RELIGION.
BY MRS. M. W. CURTIS.
When o'er the soul steals weariness
Satiate with joys like the^e,
And iu itn deep, deep lonehness,
It sighs for purer bhss ;
Keligion points to happiness,
The saiuts' eternal rest ;
Its wajs are ways of pleasantucss,
And all its paths are peace.
When foes show forth their heartlessnesa,
And trusted friends forget ;
When in their lonely hopelessness,
Their day-star seems to set;
God bids the light of righteousness
Arise and ne'er decrease;
"Xteligion's ways are pleasantness,
And all its paths are peace."
IRELAND IN BYGONE DAYS.
If, on any occasion, a guest left the room, bits
of paper were dropped into his glass, intimating
the number of rounds the bottle had gone; and
on his return he was obliged to swallow a glass
for each, under the penalty of so many glasses
of salt and water. It was the practice of some
to have decanters with round bottoms, like a
modern soda-water bottle, the only contrivance
in which they could stand being at the head of
the table, before the host. Stopping the bottle
was thus rendered impossible, and every one
was obliged to fill his glass at once, and pass tlie
bottle to his neighbor, on the peril of upsetting
the contents on the table. A still more common
practice was to knock the stems off the glasses
with a knife, so that they m.ust be emptied as
they were filled, as they could not stand. Some-
times the guests, as they sat down, put off' their
shoes, which wore taken out of the room ; and
the empty bottles were broken outside of the
door, so that no one could pass out till tlie ca-
rouse was over. — Ireland Sixty Years Aijo.
LITERARV CIRCLES IN LONDON.
The society of the literary world in London
is conducted after this wise : — There are certain
persons, for the most part authors, editors, or
artists, but with the addition of a few who can
only pride themselves upon being the patrons of
literature and art — who hold periodical assem-
lilies of the notables. Some appoint a certain
evening in every week during the season, a gen-
eral invitation to which is given to the favored ;
others are monthly; and others, again, at no
regular intervals. At these gatherings, the
amusements are conversation and music only,
and the entertainment is unostentatious and in-
expensive, consisting of tea and coffee, wine of
negus handed about in the course of the evening,
and sandwiches cake and wine at eleven o'clock.
Suppers are prohibited by common consent, for
costliness would speedily put an end to society
too agreeable to be sacrificed to fashion. The
company meets usually between eight and nine,
and always part at midnight. — The Critic.
Gambling houses are temples where the most
sordid and turbulent passions contend; there no
spectator can he indilfcrent. A enid, or a smnll
square of ivory, interest more thim the loss oi an
empire, or the ruin of an unoffending group of
infanfs, and their nearest rclati^ves. — Zi miner man.
[Written for GleaHon's Pictorial.]
WILT THOU THY XaUEND IORGET7
Ijy MISB MAUY K. PEABBOftN.
Shall I forgrit tho cherished hopes
My younK affection knew?
Shall I l'or(,'et the Ileetlng hourfl,
On golden wiiign that Jiow?
Shall I forget the nieltiiit; fitniins,
So pleiutant to my ear;
Kor feck in niemory'fi haunt agitin,
TlioHe welcome notes to hear?
Shull I forget the hawthorn hedge,
The wild and clambering vine ;
Beneath whope gnit4'ful nhado I stood,
And promieed to be thine?
Shall I forgot? ah, yea I may,
When shadows ceapc to come ;
And night no more Hhall follow day,
Or give the dawning room ;
When yonder sun forgets to tread
The glorious arch of heaven ;
Or Luna, with her flparkling tniin,
To deck the brow of even —
Then, then may I forget to lovo
The choice of early yearn,
Nor mind me of the parting scene,
Its pleasures and ita fears.
PROIESSIONAL LABOR.
We have said that the vigor and strength of
his mind had in no way abated ; let us state to
the reader what that mind has performed in its
day. During Mr. Ballou's professional life he
delivered over ten thousand sermons! This calcu-
lation, strictly correct, will not appear overrated
to the reader, when he is reminded that for more
than thirty years of liis ministration lie not only
preached three times every Sabbath, but fre-
quently for several consecutive days of the week
besides. Including his essays and treatises upon
doctiinal subjects, his fugitive sermons furnished
for the different magazines and papers, of which
he was editor for a long period, and afterwards
a constant contributor for many years, besides a
large number which appeared in pamphlet form,
and of which no other mention is made in these
pages, and the works herein referred to, Mr.
Bailou has written and published enough to
make one hundred volumes containing the same
amount of matter as the one now in the hands
of the reader (a vol. of 400 pages, 12mo). The
mere mechanical labor of writing such a mass of
composition is in itself a herculean task ; but
when we consider that each page was character-
ized by careful reasoning upon points that re-
quire much thought and study, and that the
whole is largely original, that the author was
unaided by any other book, save the Bible, in
the formation of his arguments and opinions,
and that he was self-educated witlial, we shall
come to the conclusion that, to say the least of
it, Mr. Bailou was peculiarly blessed and aided
by Divine Providence. — Life of Eosea Bailou.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TO THE EVENING WIND.
BT E. CmiTlSS HIKE, n. E. N.
The spirit of eve hovers o'er me now,
Her pinions are fanning and coohng my brow ;
I hear her sweet voice as she wanders along,
And calls on the tree-tops to join in her song ;
With the tones of an angel she seemeth to say,
" Arouse I ere I tlit to the bright land away I"'
She has waked from their slumbera the seraphs that dwell
On the green, leafy roof of the wood-shaded dell ;
And onward is flitting unseen iu her flight,
Though we hear her soft wings brush the black robe of
night ;
She is gone to repose in her isle far away,
In the couch vacant left by the spirit of day !
GALVANIC BATTERY.
The remarkable fact of the existence in all
parts of the body of an alkaline liquid, the blood,
and an acid liquid, the juice of flesh, separated
by a very thin membrane, and in contact with
nmscle and nerve, seems to have some relation
to the fact now established of the existence of
electric currents in the body, and particularly to
those which occur when the muscles contract.
The animal body may be regarded as a galvanic
engine, for the production of mechanical force.
This force is derived from the food, and with
food has been derived, as we have seen, from ihe
solar rays. A working man, it has been calcu-
lated, produces in twenty-four hours an amount
of heating or thermal effect equal to raising near-
ly fourteen millions of pounds to the height of
one foot, heat being one form of mechanical
eficet. But, from causes connected with tho
range of temperature, he can only produce, in
the form of actual work done, about as much
mechanical cflects as would laise three millions
five hundred tliousand ]iounds to the height of
one foot, and that in twenty-four hoiirs. Even
this is a piodigions amount of force, and whether
we regard it as derived from heat, electrieily, or
chemicrtl action, it is ultimately derived from
the luminous solar rays, on which vegetation de-
pends.— Chr(/ori/s Cfn'misfrr/. ■
Afilictinn is the wholei-ome coil nf vii'fue j
Al'lici'e piitioTice, honor, ywoet liuiiiiiiiity.
CVhii Ibrtitudo, tuUe root nud tftrongiy llouriMh.
Alitllet.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DIIAWING IIOO^M COMPANION.
231
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A MEillEiVTO FOR THE LOVELY.
On the death a/ ]\Irs. Charles A. Heritasf, of Philadelphia.
BY WILLIAM T. HILSEE.
Then, from the earth to sky a sad farewell -went up,
Then shrieked the timid, and stood atill the brave.
She died, " the joy of many hearts,"
Alien summer skies were bright ;
Whiin warbling minstrels sweetly sang
Their anthems of delight.
Ah! yes, beneath yon grassy mound,
She rests in sweet repose ; •
The lily chaste waves on her tomb,
Ueside the modest rose.
Love's signet glittered on her brow.
While patiently she lay ;
As through her veins the tide of life
Was ebbing fa-st away.
She died, as Christians ever die.
With brighter climea in view ;
And sank ae sinks the wearied 6un,
Adown the baldric blue.
Her "farewell words" still echo through
The caverns of my soul,
And sublimate each grosser sense,
As with a strange control : —
'* I shall- ere long, commingle v,ith
The first-born souls of hgbt,
And wield redemption's rapturous lyre
Upon Mount Zion's height.
'■ Strike off my shackles, let me soar
Yon balmy realms above,
Where seraphs" harps are ever tuned
With God's astounding love.
J>ear friends, for me forbear to weep
O, be not loth to part ;
For I shall share unmingled bli^^s,
Among ' the pure in heart,' "
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A FIVE HOUE FRESH WATEK BATH.
BY GEORGE S. EATMOND.
We were fairly broiling alive there on the
forecastle of the fine new schooner Henry Clay,
salt loaded, on her first passage, bound for
Cleveland, and lying becalmed at 10 A. M., one
day in the latter part of July, two days out from
Oswego, and some fifteen miles off Niagara.
There were seven of us fonvard — all with
some little experienee in lake navigation — and
one aft, who, although he was a thorough going
salt water sailor, knew absolutely nothing about
the western lakes ; and we didn't quite like the
idea of his sitting there under the awning on
the quarter-deck so carelessly, with the owner's
little boy between his knees, and a thunder-
squall as black as midnight rolling up in the
western board, threatening to come down upon
us butt end foremost, like a March Levanter off
Port Mahon.
" Go aft there, Bill, and tell the old man we'd
better be getting ready for that fellow," we
said to Bill Mclvnight, a regular hard weather
Scotch sailor, who stood the larboard watch —
we had no mate in the schooner.
" It's no use, lads," said Bill, shaking his
head ominously. " I've been aft twice, and the
last time, Capt. Campbell told me to mind my
own business and he'd look out for the schooner.
He says he hasn't been to sea twenty years, and
ten of 'em master of a ship, to come here to
learn his duty of fresh-water sailors, or to be
drowned in a paltry fish pond."
The two or three half audible curses at the
fool-hardy bravado of our commander that were
commenced as a response to Bill's intelligence,
were cut short off' by the quick, nervous tones of
the captain's voice, who was finally aroused to
the danger which threatened us, even as the tor-
nado was ready to burst npon our heads.
" Clew up and furl your fore-to 'gall ant sail,
and fore-topsail !" he yelled, as the first teiTific
roar of the mad tempest fell upon his startled
ear, and the whole surface of the water to tlie
westward was lashed into snowy foam by the
coming blast, now scarcely half a mile distant.
The to'gallant and topsail halyards were let
go by the run, the to'gallant sail was clewed up,
and leaving four of our number to round up the
topsail clew and buntlines, Bill, a young fellow
named Folsome and myself sprung into the fore
rigging and away aloft, to stop the sail to the
yard, if possible, before the squall struck us.
Folsome had gained the weather yard arm. Bill
was in the bunt, and I was half way from the
top to the yard, when the captain's voice reached
us, as he screamed to the man at the wheel to
put his helm hard up.
" Harddo'vn your helm — for God's sake, Capt.
Campbell!" we all shouted in the same breath.
" Put your helm down, sir, and let her come to,
or you will capsize her !"
But our voices were lost in the wild shrieking
fury of the dreadful tornado, which broke in
wrath upon the devoted schooner, even as we
screamed forth our united warning to the cap-
tain, who, instead of letting the vessel come up
into the wind, as he ought to have done, kept her
olF as he had been accustomed to do a square-
rigged craft, and almost as quick as thought she
was capsized.
As the schooner went over, I saw the captain
slide down to leeward in his chair, still holding
the little boy — a son of Henry Fitzhugh, Esq., of
Oswego — between his knees, and the next mo-
ment I was hurled down into the water so deep
that the light above me was only a dim greenish
glare, and when I struggled up to the surface,
there were three boat oars, an empty barrel, the
chair on which the captain had been sitting, and
one of the hatches only, in sight. The beautiful
schooner had gone to the bottom, and of all her
crew, three only remained — Bill McKnight,
John Polsomc and myself — and we had only es-
caped instant destruction, by our having been
hurled from alofc when the schooner went over
so fur to leeward, that we were partially clear of
the downward suction caused by the sinking hull.
Our case was little better, however, than that
of our companions who had gone down in the
vessel ; for in that wild yelling tempest, with the
few frail supports that were left us from the
wreck, and full fifteen miles, as we were, from
land, there seemed scarcely a possibility for us
to escape a death more horrible than that of the
others, for the very reason that it was more lin-
gering. But life was worth a struggle, and we
made it.
Folsomc was the youngest, slightest, and least
expert swimmer of the three, and Bill — who was
as much at home in the water as a Ivanaker —
supported him, and assisted in removing all his
clothing except his light duck trowsers, while I
collected all the floating material in sight ; and
having given up the hatch to Folsom'^, Bill took
the flour baiTcl and one of the oars, leaving me
the other two. And there we were, three miser-
able beings stripped to our trowsers, fifteen miles
from shore, paddling about at a venture, just as
likely to steer from the land as towards it, and
not a solitary vessel of any description anywhere
in sight.
The storm passed away before the sea got up
so as to be very troublesome, otherwise we
should have certainly perished within an hour
after the schooner sunk.
You can never imagine anything that can
give you the faintest conception of the horrors of
our situation, unless you should by some chance
be placed in a similar situation, which I pray
God you never may — for the recollection of
those terrible hours often to this day comes back
in my dreams and haunts me with all the vivid-
ness of a frightful reality.
Yet we did not for a single instant despair.
But Bill and I, who had both been shipwrecked
at sea, congratulated ourselves that we were
struggling there in the waters of Old Ontario,
instead of those of the Atlantic; for there was
nothing to fear from sharks, and we should not
be tormented with thirst so long as we were
swimming in an ocean of pure fresh water.
Three hours went by and we were beginning
to grow faint, when Bill uttered a cry of joy and
pointed to the westward, where we beheld the
Steamer Canada not more than five miles dis-
tant, and heading directly towards us, on her
way from Toronto to Niagara.
After a few minutes we saw her stop, lower
one of her boats, which pulled about in various
directions for more than half an hour, during
which time they picked up, as we afterwards
learned, the captain's choir and our hats, together
with several small articles which had floated up
from the wreck after we left the spot where she
went down.
After the boat returned to tlie steamer, she
made several circuits about the place where the
articles were picked up, as if in search of some-
thing more, and finally stood away on her course
towards Niagara, passing so near us that we
could almost distinguish persons on her decks.
But notwithstanding all our frantic screams, and
the signals we made by holding np our oars,
they passed on without heeding us ; and 0, how
our hearts sunk within us, and how we cursed
their cold, chilling heartlessness, as she receded
in the distance until her upper deck went out of
sight, and only her masts and tall smoke-pipes
were visible above our narrow horizon.
"Curse him!" I said; "that cold-blooded
heartless captain, to go off thus and leave us
here to perish !"
"No, no !" exclaimed Bill, eagerly. " Do not
curse him ; he has not left us. See, he is coming
back again — straight down for us. HmTah, lads,
never say die ! We shall be saved yet. Cour-
age, John, my hearty. Keep a stout heart —
they'll find us this time sure. Hurrah!"
And Bill was right; for within twenty min-
utes, the steamer was hove to near us, her boat
was lowered, and ten minutes thereafter we were
rescued from our five hour freshwater bath.
Before we reached Niagara we were informed
that the captain had been induced to turn back
at the earnest entreaty of a beautiful young lad}',
named Jessie Merritt, a Canadian by birth, and
a resident of Qucenston, who had offered three
hundred dollars to have the search continued
another hour.
But the best part of the whole adventure is
that IMiss Merritt had just one year previously
been saved from drowning in the Wclland Ca-
nal, by our young shipmate, John Folsome, and
that within six months from the day of our ship-
wreck, the said John Folsomc was the junior
partner in a flourishing mercantile establishment
in St. Catherines, and the senior partner in a
domestic establishment, whereof the beautiful
and accomplished Jessie was the junior.
Bill is no longer Bill, but Capt. William Mc-
Knight, the favorite of the travelling public on
Lake Ontario, and commander of one of the
finest steamers afloat ; while the other — that is
myself — why, I am a few years older, not much
better off than I was afloat there on the two boat
oars, and telling the story up here in my attic
just as it really happened.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A MADRIGAL TO LOVE.
BT CH.IRLES HENRT STEWART.
"Wave thy gentle ■wings,
Love, upon my way ;
Humbly pray I humble things.
Mock not that I pray.
Love ! ah, fond poetic thought,
Wert thou vainly born to naught?
Ere thou biu^t to light,
'\TTiat were earth without '.
Blankly would the joj'lcss night
Compass us about;
But when thou illumed our waj',
What were sweeter, 0 joy, say !
Would you die for love ?
Even glad were I,
To lay down life, that I might prove
I love thy ministry ;
'Tis a thing of priceless worth,
Taking hue from sky, not earth.
ADTICE TO WIVES.
A wife must study never to draw largely on
the small stock of patience in a man's nature,
nor to increase his obstinacy by trying to drive
him ; never, never, if possible, have scenes. I
doubt much if a real quarrel, even made up, does
not loosen the bond between man and wife, and
sometimes, unless the aflcction of both be very
sincere, is lasting. If irritation should occur, a
woman must expect to hear, from most men, a
strength and vehemence of language ftir more
than the occasion requires. Mild, as well as
stern men, are prone to this exaggeration of lan-
guage ; let not a woman be tempted to say any-
thing sarcastic or violent in retaliation. The
bitterest repentance must needs follow, if she do.
Men frequently forget what they hiive said, but
seldom what is uttered by tlicir wives. They
are grateful, too, for forbearance in such cases ;
for, whilst asserting most loudly that they arc
right, they are often conscious that they are
wrong. Give a little time, as the greatest boon
you can bestow, to the irritated feelings of your
husband. — English Matron.
TWO KINDS OF RELIGION.
I have met some men whose religion was a
mixture of vinegar and pepper, and others whose
religion resembled sugar and milk ; the former
aresevere on the faults of others and indulgent
to their own ; the latter reverse the practice.
Query — which of them make the best neighbors,
not to say the best Christians '; I have known
men vei-y courteous to one's face, but stabbing
his character when he was gone. My father had
a dog of this stamp ; he was a cowardly cur that
fled at the approach of a man, but bit the heels
of children. A powerful mastiif paid his re-
spects to his throat one day with great cordiality,
and nobody wept over the fate of the brute.
Mora! : — backbiters are gladly forgotten. Noble
minds shun the serpent's trail. He who would
live in the memory of the good must himself be
virtuous. This is the policy of insurance for a
bonus at death, and righteous survivors never
fail to pay it. — Anomjmous.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THOUGHTS.
I love the forest, free and wild,
Tis like a temple, dim and vast;
Where patriarchs of the olden world
Knelt and adored, in ages past.
The stream that bubbles from some epriug,
And ripples on with murmurs low;
I love its every gushing tone.
There "a music in. its joyous flow,
I love the flowers, the sweet, wild flowers.
Those radiant gems that seek the shade ;
On cliff or fissured rock they wave.
By streamlet, or in dewj' glade.
I love the birds, the bright- winged birds,
Their gushing melodies, to me,
Come like thn tones of some wild harp,
That softly breathes its witchery.
I love the rustle of the leaves,
The gentle sigh of waving bough,
The fragrant zephyr as it fans,
With cooling wing, my fevered brow.
The gorgeous sunset skies I love,
The glorious clouds that robe the west,
When in his flaming chariot,
The day-god brightly sinks to rest.
And 0, 1 love the burning stars,
The jewels in earth's glorious dome ;
I love to watch each pale, pure ray
Come stealing down from its bright home
The early mom's delicious hours.
And joyous song of birds I love ;
Her rippling streams and dew-gemmed flowers,
And bright skies smiMug from above.
There 's not of nature's glorious works,
The wild, or beautiful, or grand,
But that my spirit says " I love "
All that proclaims her peerless hand.
PERSIAN HOUSE-KEEPING.
The usual mode of living in one house seemed
pretty nearly the same in all that fell under the
range of Mr. Burton's observation. They get
up at sunrise, when they have a cup of coffee.
The few hours in the day in which the Persians
condescend to labor in any way, are fi-om sunrise
until 8 o'clock in the morning. After that the
heat becomes to inttnse {frequently 108 or 109
degrees in the shade) that all keep within doors,
lying about on mats in passages or rooms. At
10 they have their tirst substantial meal, which
consists of mutton and rice, stewed together in
a rude saucepan, over a charcoal fire, built out
of doors. Sometimes, in addition to this dish,
they have a kind of soup, or "water-meat"
(which is the literal ti-anslation of the Persian
name), made of water, mutton, onions, parsley,
fowls, rice, dried fruits, apricots, almonds, and
walnuts, stewed together. But this, as we may
guess from the multiplicity of the ingredients,
was a dainty dish. At four o'clock, the panting
Persians, nearly worn out by the heat of the day,
take a cup of strongly perfumed tea, with a little
bitter-orange juice squeezed into it; and after
this tonic they recover strength enough to smoke
and lounge. Dinner was the grand meal of the
day, to which they invited friends. It was not
unlike breakfast, but was preceded by a dessert,
at which wine was occasionally introduced, but
which always consisted of melons and dried
fruits. The dinner was brought in on a pewter
tray ; but Mr. Burton remarked that the pewter
dishes were very dingy. A piece of common
print was spread on the ground, and cakes of
bread put on it. They had no spoons for the
soup, " water-meat," but soaked their bread in it,
or curled it round into a hollow shape, and fished
up what they could out of the abyss. At the
Mirza's tliey had spoons for the sour goat's milk,
which seemed to be oueof their delicacies. The
ice is brought do^vn from the mountains, and
sold pretty cheaply in the bazaars. Sugar and
salt are eaten together with this iced sour goat's
milk. Smoking narghilahs beguiles the even-
ing hours very pleasantly. They pluck a quan-
tity of rose-blossoms, and put them into the wa-
ter, through which the smoke passes ; but the
roses last in season only a month. Mirza Oosan
Koola had a few chairs in the house, for the use
of tJie gentlemen of the embassy. — Household
Words.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial,]
MOSQUITOS.
BY J STARR HOLLOWAr.
Little, ungracious insignificants ;
Types of incorrigible restlessness;
Mysterious in thy movements ; merciless
Beyond endurance; musical gallants.
Leading thy victims in the mazy dance.
And unavailing search I Could I address
Thee as could Hood, or Horace Smith, I "d press
The truth on thee so true, 't would make thee dance
E'en much more than thou dost. But still my verse,
Bad though it is, speaks tru*h; and with this, warms
My soul. 0, pests ! Man ne'er was punished worse,
Since Moses plagued the Egyptians with black swarms
Of thine own kind, or just as bad, half-brothers,
Gnats, fleae and flies, blue-tailed and many others.
232
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWIT^Cx ROOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF THE CITY OF UTIOA, N. Y., FROM STEELE S HILL.
STATE AGRICULTURAL FAIR AT UTICA.
The annual return of this, the lnrg:c.st and
most imposing of the State Fairs, has afforded
our artist an opportunity which he has seized, of
presenting to our readers, not only a view of the
city of Utica, and tlie Fair grounds, but like-
nesses of some of the choice specimens of neat
cattle, etc., for which the New York State Fairs
have acquired such a high reputation. We look
back now but a short period to the time when
the Durhams, the Short-Horns, the Herefords,
the Ayrshires, and other choice specimens of
neat stock were entirely unknown in this country ;
when indeed every attempt at introducing im-
provement, whether in the stock, the implements,
or the method of farming, was considered an
innovation ; when *' book learning " was scouted
by the farmer as entirely useless to him when
applied to the tilling of the soil. His father and
his grandfather had done thus and so before him,
and the ultima thu/e of his desire was to succeed
as well as they. Times changed, however, and,
although nothing but ridicule and scorn was
meted to those who had the temerity to adopt
the "newfangled notions," crops were larger,
receipts were greater, and the advantage of
" book learning " became so evident that every-
body went to reading and studying the analysis
of the soil from whence they acquired their live-
lihood. The result of this we see in the State
Fairs which are held throughout the Union, and
which are opening the eyes and awakening the
attention of the agriculturist to the advantage
of fducation and necessity of improvement in
every branch of his trade. Here he meets his
brother farmer, and compares notes with him ;
here he sees the result of the experiments of
those who devote their whole time to some one
branch of the science ; he sees and profits by the
experience of the most successful experiment-
alists from every part of his State. One promi-
nent feature in the economy of State Fairs is the
fact of their being held every year at a different
point, thus enabling the farmers of every section
of the State to visit and be benefited by them.
Last year the New York Fair was held at Eoch-
ester ; this year Utica was the point selected.
Then, we gave several illustrations of the Fair
grounds interesting to the general reader. Now
we give a series, more interesting to the farmer
pei-haps, but which, nevertheless, we trust will
afford instruction to every class of our subscribers.
Utica, an admirable view of which (taken on
the spot by our artist) we give at the head of this
page, is 240 miles from New York, and 232
miles from Buffalo. It is beautifully located on
a gently rising plain, on the south side of the
Mohawk river, and commands, from many
points, charming views of surrounding scenery.
It contains a court-house, and other county
buildings, banks, numerous churches, and lia.s
several charitable and other institutions. The
sti'eets are generally well laid out and paved,
and there are in the city suburbs many private
residences of great beauty. The State Lunatic
Asylum, a handsome structure (shown in the
left of the view given), is situated on high
ground, about a mile west of the centre of the
city, and has a farm attached to it. Utica is a
central point for canals, railroads and tunipikes,
which radiate from it in every direction to the
surrounding country. The railroads, and the
Erie Canal pass through it on the east to Albany,
and on the west to Buffalo ; and the Chenango
Canal, which is here joined with the Erie, ex-
tends south to Bingharapton in Broome County,
ninety-six miles distant. The country around is
fertile, populous and rich, and is the centre of an
extensive trade. There are many well kept
hotels situated on Genesee street, the principal
GENERAL VIEW OF THE NEW YORK STATE FAIR GROUND, AT UTICA.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWIXCx ROOM COMPANION.
233
H^///#
//7:;=^=^
SHORT HORNED BULL, "HATTON. FIRST PRIZE.
DEVON HEIFER, " REL' LADY.
-FIRST PRIZE.
street of the city. The Fair g:rounds were loca-
ted about two miles south-west of the city, on a
farm purchased for the purpose by one of the
executive committee. Fifty acres were fenced
in by a substantial fence, atFording room for
every animal and article exhibited. In the view
ture, erected to shelter and display articles of a
delicate nature, painting:, etc., etc., Emery & Co.,
of Albany, had a small lent surrounded by farm-
ing implements of every nature and description.
The large barn on the extreme right, had a shed
erected around it, under which was the finest dis-
and very fine collection of Durhams (a small
part of his extensive herds), which attracted
universal attention. From among the many
head which received premiums wc select four for
illuptrstion. The first is the short-horn bull
'* Hatton," own^^d by S. F. Chapman, Esq., of
The Hereford cow "Pretty Maid," property of,
and bred from stock imported by, William H.
Latham, Livingston Co., N. Y., 1st prize of S30.
The Ayrshire bull " Kilbum," received the 1st
prize of S20 for two year olds of that breed.
Bred by Robert Logan, J. P., of KilbirnieMairs,
DORKINGS.
COCHIN CHINA. C-AMK.
PRIZE POULTRY AT THE NE\Y YORK STATE FAIR.
WHITE rOLAND.
which we give of the Fair grounds, the large tent play of poultry we ever saw together. Behind Clockville, Madison Co., N. Y., which has re- Scotland. 0^vned and imported by James Bro-
on the left was appropriated to the products of Floral Hall is seen the speaker's tent and others ceived the first prize of his class for several years. die, Esq. — Our artist, Mr. C'hapin, desires to re-
tlie dairy, butter, cheese, etc. ; to the right of devoted to refreshments, committees, etc. The The Devon heifer " Red Lady," received the 1st turn his thanks to Mr. J. R. Page of Scnnett,
that is "'Floral Hall," and a tent appropriated display of cattle has never been equalled in this prize of $20 for two year old heifers; property Ca} uga County, New Y'"ork — himself a breeder —
to vegetables of every kind. Between this and country. From six to eight hundred head were of R. M. Remington, Scnnett, Cayuga Co., N. Y''., for sketches of the premium animals given on
"Manufacturing Hall," a plain, wooden struc- entered. Col. Sherwood of Auburn had a large from the stock of Mr. Hurlbut, Connecticut. this page.
AYRSHIRE BULL, ''KILBORN." FIRST PRIZE,
HEREFORD COW, '• PRETTY MAID." FIRST PRIZE.
234
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
[Writton for Glotison's Pictorliil.]
ONE SHORT YE/VR.
nV r>. HARDY, Jil.
In ono Hhort year, 0 who ciui toll
What ohanyuH tiuio will bring .'
Tlio snn tnny eliiuo us brightly thun,
Tht) birilH iiH flwcctly Biny ;
Tho Ihtvvcra unlbia tholr putuia fair,
Ami all without be gay,
lint tliofio wo love so ilearly now,
May tbon have pnssod away.
Misfortuno'fl iUla may roll oIODg,
And cloud the noblo brow ;
And hearts thut aro from sorrow free,
May then in sadness bow.
Thu future nmy all bright appuar,
As one uui'louded day ;
But clouds may gather dim and dark,
And beauty fade away.
The youug may now dream goldea dreams,
The future has in store ;
But ere one year hath passed away,
Their blissful dreams arc o"er ;
They find that earth hath many ^vronga
To steel the youthful heart.
And m.ike the spirit bow boneatU
Their earth-depressing art.
The changes vast of one short year,
So strangely they do seem ;
That wc can scarcely deem tbem aught
But ono short, mournful dream.
In one short year, and all we love,
May then liave passed away ;
And ^vo have gone the wiiy of earth.
To realms of brighter day.
[Written for Gleason's Pietorial.]
FANNY FARLEY:
■ — OR —
THE COUNTRY COUSIN.
BT MRS. M. E. IIOBINSON.
" Is n't it provoking!" exclaimed Sarah Lind-
say, rather testily, as she handed an open letter
to Iier mother, who was leisurely rocking herself
in a comfortable chair. " It is sd unfortunate."
"I see nothing 'provoking' or 'unfortunate'
in the letter," replied Mrs. Lindsay, quietly, as
she finished its perusal. "It merely gives the
information that your cousin Fanny has accepted
your father's invitation to visit us."
" And pray who is my cousin V asked Sarah,
rather contemptuously.
" Your Uncle Edwin's daughter," innocently
rejoined Mrs. Lindsay.
"Pshaw ! mother, you are growing quite dull
of late. My cousin is, probably, an awkward
country girl, with manners about as refined as a
New Zcalander's. Can I ever bring myself to
introduce a girl wearing large thick shoes and
old fashioned clothing, as my cousin ? It is not
to be thought of."
" Don't trouble yourself, child ; your cousin is
not here yet," resumed Mi's. Lindsay, who was
a good-humored, amiable woman, inclined to
take the world easy, and be on perfectly good
terras with all its inhabitants. She had faults,
as we all have, and one was, she had always per-
mitted her daughter Sarah to have her own way
in everything. The consequence was that the
latter had grown to girlhood ^vith many errone-
ous notions of fas Ii ion and "gentility."
" How can I help troubling myself?" replied
the daughter. " With my sensitive organization
and delicate neiwes, I am easily affected by such
things. I can foresee, without any great stretch
of imagination, that she will excite any amount
of ridicule, and, of course, mortify mc."
"Fanny will, probably, receive any little hints
you may give her with the greatest pleasure,"
added Mrs. Lindsay.
"Little hints, indeed ! I imagine one would
be required to ' hint' a great part of the time,"
replied Sarah, fretfully. " Besides, my party
comes off next week ; and, O dear! it just oc-
curs to me that Christophena Koxalana George-
man is to make her yearly visit very soon.
What if they should both be here at the same
time!"
" You are borrowing trouble again, my dear,"
said her mother, rocking lazily to and fro. " If
they both come at once, you can apologize to
Miss Georgcman for any deficiencies she may ob-
serve with reference to Fanny. ]f she is a sensi-
ble girl, she will excuse all, as your cousin has
had neither her nor your advantages."
"But, mother, what shall I do witli this coun-
try girl at the party ?"
" O, put her into the hands of your maid, and
with the assistance of your wardrobe, I've no
doubt she will look and appear as well as tho
rest."
"I fear she will need soiricthing in the way of
l)oIish beside dress," replied Sarali, with a slgii,
and apparently making up her mind to sul)nut
to what could not be helped. " I might as well
give up all thouglits of enjoyment I'or the next
three weeks ; but I give you to understand, mo-
ther, that I shall not go into the street with her
at all."
" But that will be wrong, Sarah, I fear," re-
plied her mother. "She will expect attention,
and as a relative, is entitled to it."
"It cannot be helped," said Sarah, decidedly.
" But I really would not expose myself to the
observations of people for any compensation."
The remarks of Sarah Lindsay were cut short
by a loud ring of the door bell. The young
lady ran to the window.
" Do come here and see what a shabby-look-
ing coach is stopping before tlie door !" she ex-
claimed. " The neighbors, of course, will all be
at the windows."
Mrs. Lindsay did as she was requested.
"I shouldn't be surprised if your cousin was
inside that coach," observed the latter, with a
smile.
"How can you laugh, mother; I'm sure I
feel much more like crying," replied Sarah,
looking, in reality, vexed enough to cry. " Yes,
that must be her with that sliocking bonnet and
striped shawl. I wonder why she couldn't come
in the cars like decent people, as well as by way
of that lumbering, yellow stage coach V she
continued, with an expression of distress upon
her countenance, which was really laughable.
"Never mind the vehicle, my dear; but be
ready to receive your cousin cordially," said
Mrs, Lindsay, retiring from the window.
Fanny Farley, having alighted, drew from her
pocket a small bag, which she deliberately untied,
and taking out some money counted her fare,
and with an air of much satisfaction, placed it
carefully in the hand of the driver. Then direct-
ing him to go forward with a trunk, she followed
him up the steps, with a small band box in one
hand, an umbrella and a bundle in the other, to
the no little consternation of Sarah, who was
still at the window.
" Walk right in, driver, and warm your hands.
I know they must be cold," observed Fanny, as
with some diflficulty she gained the topmost step.
The servant, who had answered the bell, stood
looking on in mute astonishment ; and the driver,
after depositing the wooden trunk upon the floor,
hastily descended the steps.
" Well, that man hasn't any manners to go
off witiiout saying ' thank ye ' to my invitation,"
added Fanny, looking after his retreating form.
" Did you say my Aunt Betsey was at home 1"
she continued, turning to the man in waiting.
"Mrs. Lindsay is at home," he replied, grave-
ly. " If you will follow me, I will show you the
drawing-room."
"Mrs. Lindsay, or Aunt Betsey, just as you
like, it's all one to mc," resumed Fanny, as she
was ushered into the presence of her relatives,
with the umbrella and bundle still in her hand.
" My niece, Fanny Farley, I suppose," said
Mrs. Lindsay, taking her kindly by the hand,
and imprinting a kiss upon her cheek.
" My name's Fanny, and I s'pose you're my
aunt according to the Bible law," she replied,
with a salute in return that echoed through the
room. " I'm real glad to see you. Aunt Betsey,
and I've brought ' rigging ' enough to stay a
month. But where's Cousin Sail}'?" she added,
looking about her.
Sarali advanced to welcome her very civilly,
as she imagined ; but it was really a decided
failure ; and having gone through with the forms,
and received a hearty, and to the "sensitively
organized" young lady, painfully impolite
squeeze of the hand, she resumed her seat with
a despairing look.
" Lay aside your bonnet and shawl, my dear,"
said Mrs. Lindsay. "John," she continued,
opening the door and speaking to the servant,
"take this lady's umljrclla, and put it with the
others."
" But it'll get mixed,. Aunt Betsey !" exclaim-
ed Fanny, with alarm, retaining a tight hold of
the article in question. "I wouldn't lose it for
the world ; it's the most useful member of our
family. Hadn't I better take it up to my bed-
room V
" It shall be placed in John's especial care,"
replied Mrs. Lindsay, smiling at her earnestness.
Upon this assurance she allowed it to be taken
away, together with the bundle.
" You were quite small when I saw you last,"
observed Mrs. Lindsay, when Fanny Imd seated
herself. " I should not have recognized you,
had not your letter told mc v.'hom to expect."
" Yes ; motlier says I grow like all possessed,"
was the grave reply. "Anyhow, I can't take
her gowns now, as I used to; she has to buy
bran fire new calikerfor me. I've got one o' the
Imndsomest bombazeis that you ever set eyes on
for Sunday; it shines like a new tin dish. If
you'd like to sec it, I'll fetch it in a minute."
'• No matter about it now," rejoined Mrs.
Lindsay. "But I hear the dinner bell. You
probably have a good appetite riding so far."
"Diimer!" exclaimed Fanny. " Why, it's
precious near supper lime. I gucs3 I'll go out;
but I aint much hungry, for mother filled my
pockets witli doughnuts. Here's just one left;
wont you taste of it, and see if mother alnt an
uncommon cook. Cousin Sally V and she drew
an enormous one from licr dress pocket, and
held it up before Sarah.
The latter declined and hastened into the din-
ing-room. Fanny stared in astonishment at
everything slie saw, and could scarcely find time
to eat what ^vas placed before her.
"What funny little towels!" she exclaimed;
after a short pauie.
" Napkins, my dear, for the fingers," whisper-
ed Mrs. Lindsay, who was seated near her.
" O, I thought they was to pin up !" rejoined
Fanny, coolly. " But what is Cousin Sally
laughing at ? Don't she like my looks V
" My name is Sarah, not Sally," said the
young lady, with dignity; the word "Sally"
having dissipated all her mirth.
"Sally's the most fashionable in our village;
but seein's you look so black about it, I'll call
you Sarah when I remember," answered Fanny,
demurely.
Mr. Lindsay was not at home when they be-
gan to dine, but came in before the meal was
finished. He appeared glad to sec his niece,
and made many inquiries concerning her family.
The afternoon and evening passed away without
bringing any visitors, to the great joy of Sarah.
The latter dreaded nothing so much as the ap-
pearance of a " caller;" for the uncouth speeches
of Fanny were ever present before her, and it
was utterly impossible to keep her out of the
way.
Fanny Farley was not a bad looking girl by
any means. Her features were quite regular,
her complexion good, teeth fine, and her figure
very well formed. She would certainly have
been called pretty, were it not for a bad habit
which she had of winking continually when
spoken to. Her hair was arranged very unbe-
comingly, and the ill-fitting and rather dowdy-
looking dress, added not a little to the awkward-
ness of her appearance. As Sarah had predict-
ed, her feet were encased in thick shoes, more to
be valued for their durability than beauty; and
the noise which she made in locomotion usually
gave notice of her presence. Judging from the
appearance of Fanny, she was, probably, seven-
teen years of age, and according to her own ad-
mission, "big enough to have a beau."
Slie was shrewd, and possessed a good share
of that useful commodity — common sense. If
her observations were peculiar, they could cer-
tainly be called original, and to the point.
Mrs. Lindsay represented to Fanny that the
name of Betsey was old fashioned, and nearly
obsolete, and it would be better to substitute her
true name — Flizabeth — in its place. This re-
mark was made in such a mild, aftectionate way,
that Fanny acceded to it immediately; and the
" delicate nerves " of Sarah received no farther
shock from a repetition of the opprobrious
epithet.
The second day of Fanny's visit arrived, and
with it Miss Georgcman. The latter was a
proud, haughty girl, with a su])ercilious, self-
conceited air, which was veiy disagreeable.
Being favored by nature with but few personal
attractions, she endeavored to gain that conse-
quence and attention which she desired, by dis-
play in dress, and a lavish expenditure of money.
Upon being introduced to Fanny by Mrs. Lind-
sa}', she raised her eye-glass, and looked at her
from head to foot,
" Why don't you get some bows hitched to
your specs, IMiss Christopher 1 it must be dread-
ful tiresome to hold 'em up all the time. I'll
take hold a little while till you get rested," said
Fanny, who rose and apjiroachcd the young
lady.
" I wish none of your assistance, Miss Ver-
dant!" retorted Bliss Georgcman.
" My name's Farley," replied Fanny. " But
I'm sorry your sight is so poor. I've got some
ointment that'll be sure to help it. Mother and
old Deacon Fox both used it, and tliey can sec
now aljout as well as when they were as young
as you arc—say twenty-eight."
Miss Georgcman made no reply, save by a
contemptuous stare and a curl of the lip.- Sarah
looked very much vexed, bat Mrs. Lindsay
smiled, and introduced a new subject.
For several days nothing was talked of but
the anticipated party. Great preparations were
made, and much time spent in wondering wlio
should be invited ; but, at last, all was conclud-
ed, a!ul the girls retired to dress.
" Now, Fanny," said Sarah, in a decided
voice, " I must insist that you permit Martin to
dress your hair. It does not look decently
arranged as you now liavo it."
" Sam Fisher said I looked like the Venus tie
M<'-lhodisl" replied Funny, demurely, " and he
belongs to the churcli."
" What's that, I wonder?" asked Sarah,
laugldng.
"Folks say it's a mermaid that lives in the
Fcjee Islands ; but Sam will have it she's a cele-
brated character, and stays under water most of
the time," was the demure rejoinder.
" You shouldn't believe everything tliat is told
you," said Miss Christophena, with a patronizing
air.
" That's just what I thought when you told us
how many handsome young men wanted to
marry you," answered our heroine.
Miss Georgcman bit her lip, and turned away
without replying.
" Here are several dresses from whicli you can
make a choice," added Sarah, turning to Fanny.
" You are about my height and size, and I think
any of them will fit you."
"But I don't need to |)orrow gowns of any-
body. I guess I shall wear my indigo-blue and
green caliker. The colors are magnificent. It'll
look splendidly in the evening," replied Fanny.
"An indigo-blue print at an evening party !"
exclaimed Sarah, in unfeigned astonishment.
" You will mortify me to death. I shall not en-
joy myself a moment. Do, dear Fanny," she
added, in a persuasive voice, " do gratify me
enough to put on this pretty white muslin. It is
very tastefully trimmed."
"I don't mean to wear white till I'm married;
it's unproper, and not a bit genteel-like. Be-
sides, 'twould show my neck and arms, and
make people look at me. I shouldn't feel at
home in it."
"What shall I do, Christophena? She will
surely make a fright of herself. Now, there is
a blue and white frock which would just suit
her."
" That sky-blue will take all the gloss off my
complexion, and make me look just as though I
was goin' to faint away. I'll try it on, though,
to please you ; but if I don't like my appearance,
I shall take my own rigging," replied Fanny.
Sarah and Miss Georgeman left Fanny in the
hands of Martin, who speedily made such an
im])rovement in her appearance that one "would
scarcely have known her. The black silky hair
w^as put back from the forehead, and arranged
in a becoming manner. The arms, which were
white and well formed, remained uncovered, and
the dress could have fitted no better had it been
cut to her form. Martin, having arranged every-
thing to her satisfaction, observed that Fanny
could now survey herself at a mirror. Accord-
ingly, the latter arose and approached a glass.
She surveyed her person intently for a long time
without speaking. Martin, meanwhile, had gone
to request Sarah and her friend to come and see
" how much better JNIiss Fanny looked."
"Really," exclaimed Miss Christophena, "I
did not believe our unsophisticated friend could
be so much improved !"
"Nor I either," added Sarah. " And now,
Fanny, if you are cartful, and don't speak ex-
cept when spoken to, and then only in monosyl-
lables, you will commit no blunders, nor make
yourself ridiculous. Come, Christophena, wg
shall be late ;" and the two young ladies, follow-
ed by Martin, hurried a^vay.
As they left the room, Fanny turned the key
in the door, and deliberately unfastened the hair
which Martin had so nicely dressed ; then care-
lessly twisting it, she placed a huge comb at tho
top of the head, with any quantity of gaudy-
colored ribbon dangling therefrom. Producing
the wooden trunk, before mentioned, she took
fiom it the much lauded print and put it on, to-
gether with a flaunting yellow ribbon. Tho skirt
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
235
of the dress being very nnrrow, we must allow
it did not hang in very graceful folds ; and the
sleeves, which resembled small balloons, had the
appearance of wings. The waist being quite
short, l^'aimy, who seemed conscious of the fact,
produced a rusty black scarf, and tied it about
her to supply the deficiency in length.
Fanny, we fear, had but an inditfcrent taste in
the choice of colors, for a strange medley was
selected. She seemed satit-fied, however, and
after tims cquippi.ig herself, sat down and pa-
tiently wailed until she heard the company assem-
bling. Then descending by a back staircase,
she approached tlie parlors and cautiously looked
in. The elegantly furnished rooms were nearly
iilled with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, not
one of whom was known to Fanny. It was a
lively party ; merry voices, happy faces, bright
and smiling glances, were predominant.
" How grand !" exclaimed Fanny, drawing
back as the galaxy of beauty and fashion met
her gaze. " I declare I'm afraid to go in."
"Allow me to escort you," said a fine-looking
young man, who was standing near, in a res-
pectful tone.
" rm willin'," replied Fanny, taking the prof-
ferred arm. " But don't the geranders and clian-
tideers dazzle your eyes ? Why, mine fairly
ache ;" and she placed her hand over her e^'cs as
a screen.
" They do not incommode me," rejoined the
gentleman, politely. " You will soon become
accustomed to the light. Would you like to see
any particular person?"
"I shouldn't mind seein' Cousin Sarah, I'm
not perticerler, though ; for I s'pose she's busy
with her party, and shoLv'uKj Miss Christopher."
" Then you are Miss Lindsay's cousin V
"Her mother is my Aunt Betsey — 'Lizabeth,
I mean. My name is Fanny Farley ; but she
never calls nic cousin," answered our heroine.
" And the young lady you mentioned — "
" Is Miss Christopher Eocks Somebody ! It
must be Latin, it's so hard to pronounce. But
there's Cousin Sarah talkiu' to that man that
looks like a squirrel. I wonder how he eats with
so much hair around his mouth. Don't you be-
lieve he's lost his I'azorV asked Fanny, with
much gravity.
"X*erhaps so," he replied, with some difficulty
suppressing a smile, for he was too well bred to
laugh.
As the two slowly walked through the rooms,
several young ladies glanced contemptuously at
Fanny, laughed audibly, and wluspcred to each
other, in tones sufficiently loud to be heard by
her.
*' Who is she, I wonder V remarked one. " I
should think that Mr. Briggs would think more
of himself than to be seen promenading with
that country specimen !"
" Look at her dress !" said another, with a
sneer. " One might suppose she imported her
own fashions and fabrics. Suppose we borrow
the pattern. It is lamentable that it should dis-
appear with the wearer!"
" And the comb and head-dress!" chimed in
a third. " Wliy, a country milliner might begin
business with the ribbons that she wears !"
Fanny walked on, not at all disconcerted by
these observations, and an attentive observer
might have detected a smile of peculiar signifi-
cance playing about her finely chiselled lips.
" Do not heed what they say. Miss Farley,"
said the gentleman, earnestly, upon whose arm
she was leaning. " No true lady would make
such remarks." This was said in a low tone of
voice.
'* Their observations do not annoy me in the
least," she replied, quietly; " but only prove the
truth of the old adage, that ' fine feathers make
fine birds,' and demonstrate the weakness of the
human mind."
The gentleman turned towards her in astonish-
ment ! Did he hear aright ? Was it his com-
panion that had been speaking ? Before he had
settled the subject to his satisfaction, Sarah
Lindsay came forward and touched Fanny upon
the arm.
" Fanny Farley !" she whispered, angrily,
" how dared yon come below in this frightful-
looking dress ! Don't you perceive how the peo-
ple are laughing and ridiculing you? What
have you been saying ?"
" Monosyllables," replied our heroine, aloud.
" They never hurt anybody."
Sarah's eyes flashed, but she dared not give
vent to her indignation in woi'ds.
" Mr. Briggs," said Miss Lindsay, turning to
the gentleman, " dancinghas been proposed, and
sets are being formed in the next room. Will
you join us V
" I have engaged to escort this lady through the
apartments, otherwise I should be most happy
to do so," was the polite reply.
" Cousin Sarah, hadn't you better have that
heavy looking thing with prongs in it moved out
of the entry? It'll hurt some one yet," added
F'anny, as Sarah was turning hauglitily away.
" What do you mean ?" asked the latter, as
she quickly stepped towards the hall. " I see
nothing but the hat tree."
" A ;>ro»(/c(^ Iiat tree!" exclaimed one of the
young ladies we have mentioned, with a laugh.
Sarah's face was crimson with mortification
as she hastened to Miss Georgeman, and taking
her arm, left the room.
" Do you dance, ]\Iiss Farley *?" asked Fanny's
gallant.
" If you'd ever seen me go through a double
and twisied hornpipe, you wouldn't ask that ques-
tion," was the rejoinder, as she hurried him
away.
The dancing had already commenced, and
they took seats to look on ; but the exhilarating
music soon caused the feet of Fanny to beat time
to the measure. Her companion remarked the
fact, and asked her to join in tlie next dance,
which was a simple one. Fanny had no idea of
refusing, and in spite of the frowning looks of
Sarah, who stood in an opposite corner, she took
her place beside him on the floor.
Mr. Briggs — as lie was called — possessed the
manners of a perfect gentleman. He was polite,
in the truest sense of the word, viz., kind, atten-
tive, and respectful to all. He was affluent, held
a high station in. society, and was esteemed by
those who had the good fortune to make his
acquaintance.
He saw Fanny ridiculed, slighted, and treated
with disrespect by a certain clique, because she
was indifferently dressed, and withal appeared
rather unsophisticated. This called forth his
sympathies, and though a stranger, he immedi-
ately showed her that attention which his code of
politeness dictated.
It must be confessed that he felt somewhat un-
easy in regard to Fauny's knowledge of the
Terpsichorean art. But this was soon to be de-
cided, for they were already in motion. And
now Fanny displayed her skill. She was evi-
dently ignorant of the different changes that were
being called, and followed her partner at her
leisure, putting time at defiance. Her move-
ments manifested more strength than grace ;
beginning with a hop and ending with a slide.
Her extraordinary evolutions and "ornamental
additions," as she termed them, attracted no lit-
tle attention ; while her narrow skirt, short dress
waist, and the many colored streamers that de-
pended from her head, suggested so much of the
ludicrous that the young gentleman could hardly
forbear laughing.
All things have an end, and so had the cotil-
lon; but upon looking about for his partner,
he discovered that she had most unaccountably
disappeared. A few more dances, and the com-
pany adjourned to the refreshment-room, where,
for a time, we will leave them.
Fanny Farley had taken advantage of an in-
tricate cliange to leave the room without being
observed, and hastened to her own chamber.
She spoke to her cousin's maid, who was within
call.
"Martin," said Fanny, as the former entered
the room, '*! wish you to dress my hair as
speedily as possible. It is necessary that I should
go down before the dancing recommences."
" How strange you look and talk !" exclaimed
Martin, as Fanny took from her head the corab
which towered majestically upward.
" Never mind my words or looks," replied our
heroine, "but commence operations at once."
The maid needed not a second bidding ; and
in a short time the hair-dressing was completed.
Fanny now produced a beautiful dress, laces and
flowers in abundance, and other paraphernalia of
the dressing-room, to the astonishment and ad-
miration of Martin. With tlie assistance of the
latter, her toilet was soon finished. Her dress
was of a becoming color, and fitted beautifully
her well-proportioned and supple form. Martin
was in raptures, and declared she looked "better
than any of the proud ladles below, or even Miss
Sarah herself."
Funny did not stop to contradict this sweeping
assertion, but hastened to her uncle, who was
waiting to conduct her to the parlor.
"Sarah has been sulficiently punished," he
remarked, earnestly. " She has received a les-
son wliich, I think, will ultimately benefit her.
Be yourself again ; for I do not wish to deprive
you of the good opinion and admiration of all
these people, my dear, to gratify a freak of mine."
"As long as I am favored with your good
opinion I am satisfied," replied his niece, as they
entered the apartment.
Fanny was now the "observed of all observ-
ers." Many gentlemen gatliered about her,
eager for an introduction ; while the busy hum
of conversation ceased in their immediate vicini-
ty. Ladies turned their attention from tlie com-
pliments of their gallants to wonder who the
beautiful young lady, with such a fine figure and
self-possessed air, could be.
"Fanny," said Mr. Lindsay, "allow me to
present to you a young friend of mine, Mr.
Briggs. Alfred, let me make you acquainted
with my niece. Miss Farley."
" I think I have spoken with Miss Farley be-
fore," replied the young gentleman, gallantly,
and bowing with much politeness.
" 1 was acting an assumed part at that time,
and I beg you will not form an estimate of my
character from the circumstance," observed Fan-
ny. " I think I deserve farther trial. '^
" Be under no apprehension, Miss Farley ;
your motives by me will not be questioned, nor
your words misconstrued," replied Mr. Briggs,
glancing at Fanny with a look that expressed
admiration and respect, and which sufl'uscd her
face with blushes.
" Speak to your cousin, Sarah," added Mr.
Liudsay, as his daughter came up. "You know
she is a stranger here."
" To my cousin !" exclaimed the young lady,
in evident amazement, looking from one to the
other. " Why, Fanny, is that you !"
" I believe I must acknowledge the cliargc,"
replied our heroine, gaily. " But forgive me,
Sarah, for having, in carrying out a little plan
of my own, vexed and mortified you. I will ex-
plain all anon; for you see we are attracting
attention."
"Ah! I perceive you have been deceiving us
somewhat," added Sarah, with a smile. "But
I will forgive you on condition that you dance a
little more gracefully than before, and refrain
from mentioning ' pronged hat trees.' "
Fanny having laughingly assented, dancing
soon re-commenced. The former rapidly re-
deemed her reputation for awkwardness, and
proved an adept in the fascinating art. With an
air of grace, ease and dignity not often seen, she
glided through the mazes of the giddy waltz.
Many expressed their unqualified admiration in
no measured terms ; while others, influenced by
the demons of envy and jealousy, refused to ac-
knowledge her superiority.
Sarah Lindsay and Miss Georgeman suddenly
discovered that Fanny had " very small white
hands, a beautiful neck and sloping shoulders,"
beside other attractions never before observed.
Added to this, the unfortunate peculiarity of the
eye had also disappeared. How singular that
such should be the case ! W« fear that many
people resemble Sarah Lindsay and Christophe-
na Georgeman.
Mr. Lindsay, while on a visit to Mr. Farley,
had been much pleased with Fanny, and was
very desirous that she should accompany him
home. Conscious of the principal defect in the
character of his daughter, lie hoped that the ex-
ample, strong mind and fine intellect of Fanny
might prove beneficial to her. She was quite
too ready to judge from appearances, and this,
he knew, was a serious fault.
After some deliberation, he planned the scheme
of Fanny's appearing in a character contrary to
her own, and one calculated to try both the man-
ners and principles of Sarah. To this his niece
acceded, and the scheme was executed to his en-
tire satisfaction. Sarah admitted that she had
judged too much by externals, and a superficial
observation.
Fanny's visit was prolonged some months.
Before its termination, she had received several
eligible offers of marriage from those who had
learned her worth and appreciated her character.
Alfred Briggs was the favored one. She satis-
fied herself that he possessed that true nobility
of heart, and uprightness, and inflexibility of
principle, that would constitute a good husband.
On liis part, having obtained the approbation
of Mr. Lindsay, and the consent of Fanny, he
soon followed the latter lo the elegant country
seat of her father, who favored bis suit. Their
union was happy. Fanny was accomplished,
talented and amiable, and her devoted husband
never repented wedding the country cousin..
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LOVE,
BT KENNETH SENOLAIR.
'Tis a fair sunbeam that glancea
O'er the iiciiYens, at noon ;
"Whose brightly beaming ray,
Life and beauty enhances ;
Ytt all too fleeting, soon passes away,
And leaves us in dai'kncss and gloom.
'T is seen like a ■wandering star,
Whose lustrous flood of light
Dazzles the upturned eye,
That looks on it afar ;
Tet its splendor, alas I doth fade and die,
Thus making e'ea darker the night.
< .»»— >
TRIAL.
Ko man is a man till tried — till he has passed
the ordeal, through deep waters and scorching
fires. A man surrounded with comforts, friends
and relatives, food and raiment — whose barns
are filled with plenty, and whose presses gush
out with new wine — who eats to the full, sits and
reads, doles about, takes his case and his plea-
sure, smokes his pipe, or chews his cud — is he a
manl far from it. A man is not a man till he
is proved — has passed the ordeal, drunk the bit-
ter cup, risen above life's conflicts, mounted the
billow's wave. Was Joseph a man, in very deed,
till he was cast into the pit, torn away from the
bewitching tempter, leaving his garment behind
— till he groaned in the prison house ? Was-
Moses a man till he passed the fiery ordeal?
Was Daniel a man till cast into the lion's den?
Was Paul truly a man till he suffered perils by
sea and by land, and had received forty stripes
save one 1 — "No man that warreth entangleth
himself with the affairs of his life, that he may
please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier."
Let a man be forsaken of all, as was Job — swing
loose on faith, on God, and retain his integrity,
rising triumphantly — is he not a man ■? Who
besides? — Golden Rule.
^VIXGS Ol^ l^'StlCTS.
The buzzing and humming sounds produced
by winged insects are not, as might be supposed,
vocal sounds. They result from sonorous undu-
lations imparted to the air by the flapping of
their wings. This may be rendered evident by
obseiwing that the noise always ceases when the
insect alights on any object. The airene kas
been ingeniously applied for the purpose of as-
certaining the rate at which the wings of such
creatures flap. The instrument being brought
into unison with the sound produced by the in-
sect, indicates, as in the case of any other musi-
cal sound, the rate of vibration. In this way it
has been ascertained that the wings of a gnat
flap at the rate of 15,000 times per second. The
pitch of the note produced by this insect in the
act of flying is, therefore, more than two octaves
above the highest note of a seven-octave piano
forte. — Lardiier's Maud Boole.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial,]
TflE AGED.
Bise up before the silvered head,
Give place to the aged man ;
Mark you his feeble, faltering tread,
And his furrowed visage wan !
He 's tottericg on the grave's di-ead brink,
Heady to launch away ;
0, may his footsteps never shrink,
To cross the narrow way I
May the Saviour's presence lead him on
To a home of rest above,
And welcomed by the seraph throng,
Praise God's redeeming love.
A SOAP-KUBKLE.
A soap-bubble, as it floats in the light of the
sun, reflects to the eye an endless variety of
the most gorgeous tints of color. Newton showed
that to each of these tints corresponds a certain
thickness of the substance forming the bubble ;
that all transparent substances, when reduced to
a certain degree of tenuity, would reflect these
colors. Near the highest point of the bubble,
just before it bursts, is always observed a spot
which reflects no color and apjicars black. New-
ton showed that the thickness of the bubble at
this black point was the 2,500,000th part of an
inch ! Now, as the bubble at this ])oint possesses
the properties of water as essentially as does the
Atlantic Ocean, it follows that the ultimate mole-
cules forming water must have less dimensions
than this thickness. — Lardncr's Hand Book.
LEAVE TO DINE.
Every day, at about one, P. M., the notes of a
discordant horn resounded througli every town
and village in the Siamese territories, meant lo
proclaim to itie world at large, " that His Majes-
ty the King of Siam had had his dinner, and
w;is graciously pleased to grant permission to
all other potentates on the face of the earth to
follow his judicious example." A Siamese
would no more believe that any other crowned
head dared transgress this law with impunity,
than he would in the existence of an electric tele-
graph ; and as for breaking tluough it them-
selves, instantaneous death would be the result.
— Ntule^s liesideuce in S'laut.
The fiisliion
Doth wear out more apparel than tbo man.
236
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
S. KLOUS *t CO.»S
Hat, Cap and Fur Store.
We present herewith
a very line interior view
of the Hat, Cap and Fur
Store of S. Klous <&
Co., 29 and 31 Court
Street, Boston. It is hy
our artist, Mr. Manning,
and forms a very ac^eu-
rateand strikinj^: picture.
This is thchir^'cst retail
hat estahlishment in
New England. It is 33
feet wide on Court
Street, and 100 feet deep
on Franklin Avenue, oc-
cupying nearly all of
two three-story build-
ings. The front room,
as herewith represented,
is the largest sales room
of the kind in the State,
and is oecupied as a re-
tail department, the sec-
ond room as a hat, cap
and fur saloon, and the
basement for the whole-
sale hat trade, employ-
ing about lo salesmen.
S. Klous & Co. manu-
facture hats, caps and
furs in the buildings,
employing in the hat
manufactory about .50
workmen of the first
class ; and in the cap
manufactory they cm-
ploy, di- 'y and indi-
^ " , .<jm 250 to 300
gii'Is. Their furs are re-
ceived directly from Eu-
rope; and, having artists
of long experience, they
manufacture some of the
best furs offered for sale
in the metropolis. Their
manufacturing arrange-
ments are such, having
introduced new and ex-
tensive machinery, and
employing at the same
time a corps of mechan-
ics unsurpassed, that
they are enabled to offer
their customers a splen-
did article of hats that is
excelled by none. They
do not propose to con-
fine each customer to
precisely the same pat-
tern hat, and fheir styles
will be found to differ
from that of any other
establis^hment, but while
observing the general
features of the prevail-
ing styles, to adapt mi-
nor peculiarities to the
stature, physiognomy or
taste of the individual.
After a personal exami-
nation of this establish-
ment, we do not hesitate
to say that this house
offer the most elegantly
finished and perfect arti-
cles in this line that can
be found in Boston, or
any other city in the
Union. We may as well
mention in this place
that those gentlemen
who have formed a taste
— and very justly, too —
for Leary & Co.'s excel-
lent hats, of New York,
can obtain them here,
Messrs. Klous & Co.
having the Boston agen-
cy for the house. A
man's hat is certainly
one of the most impor-
tant portions of his ex-
ternal appearance ; and
those who desire to he
fitted to a charm with
an article of the most
artistic character, and
best suited to their own
style of features, man-
ner, general bearing,
etc., should call on this
house, who have earned
the title of artists in
their calling. We enjoy
the chronicling of these
merchant palaces ; they
evince most indisputably
the growing wealth and
commercial success of
our city — they manifest
a spirit of generous iil)-
erality, and free outlay,
that does good — as good can in no other way so
well he accomplished. It diffuses money to ar-
tists, laborers, clerks, men of ability, mentally,
and men who are classed as among the " hewers
of wood and drawers of water." It puts money
in circulation to rear and sustain such elaborate
and well-found manufactories, besides supplying
all concerned with the ample means of producing
a better and more desirable article of wear in the
line of the business cngasred in. In illustrating
so fine a store a« that of Klous & Co., we do our
! f-.iderti and the public a benefit.
O
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Eh
THE LIPS.
For the consolation of those who have thin
lips and are not shrews or niggards, I must give
here, as my firm opinion, founded on what I
have observed, that lips become more or less
contracted in the course of years, in proportion
as they are accustomed to express good humor
and generosity, or peevishness and a contracted
mind. Remark the effect which a moment of
ill-temper or grudgingness has upon the lips,
and judge what may bo expected from an habit-
ual series of such moments. Reraa!rk the re-
verse, and make a similar judgment. The
mouth is the frankest part of the face ; it can the
least conceal its sensations. We can hide neither
ill-temper with it, nor good ; we may ctfect wliat
we please, but affectation will not lielp us. In a
wrong cause, it wilt only make our observers re-
sent the endeavor to impose upon them. The
mouth is the seat of one class of emotions, as
the eyes are of another ; or rather, it expresses
the same emotions but in greater detail, and with
a more irrepressible tendency to be in motion.
It is the region of smiles and dimples, and of a
trembling tenderness ; of a sharp sorrow, of a
full breathing joy, of candor, of reserve, o'' a
carking care, of a liberal sympatliy. The mouth,
out of its many sensibilities, may be fancied
throwing up one great expression in the eyes —
as many lights in a city reflect a broad lustre
into the heavens. On the other hand, the eyes
may be supposed the chief movers, influencing
the smaller details of their companion, as Jieaven
influences earth. The first cause in both is in-
ternal iiTitl deep-seated, and wonderfully offcu-
tive. — Lti'jh Hunt.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
237
PEEDEEICK GLEASON, Peoprietoe.
MATTJRIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTJEKTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER.
"Louis Summerfield, or the Fruits of a Collegi; Vaca-
tion," a etory by Geo. Cannikg Hill.
" The Wagic King." a story translated from the German,
for the Pictorial by Miss Annk T. Wilbur.
" Travels in Palestine," No. VII, treating upon Jerusa-
lem, by Ker. F. W. Holland.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. VT, relating to the Sul-
tan's Harem, by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Autogmphs and Autography," So. VIT, by William
Edward Kkowxes, giving the signatures of George Lunt,
Charles W. Thompson, Elihu Burritt, Emile de Girardin,
Mrs. C. H. W. EsUng, F. E. EUet. Ann S. Stephens, John
G. Whittier.
" I do not ask for Fame nor Wealth," lines, by Mrs. R.
T. Eldredqe.
"Little hva," verses, by E. Cortiss Hise, U. S. N.
"0, give me back thy sunny timile," verses, by Re-
becca R. P'iERCE.
" Sonnet to Luellaceine," a poem by J. Starr Hollo-
WAT.
" Autumn Winds," lines, by " Glenallan," of Kent.
*• October," verses, by Mrs.M. W. Curtis.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
A fine view of the new cavalry company recently formed
in Boston, under the command of Col. I. H, Wright,
drawn by our artist, Mr. Maiming.
An interior view of L. S. Driggs's Lace and Bonnet Store,
Washington Street, Boston.
A view of Ostend, known as the " Key ■' of Continental
Europe, a capital picture,
Prome, an admirable picture, sketched from the Ira-
■waddy.
A characteristic and interesting engraving of a Bur-
mese Soldier, sketched at Rangoon.
An interesting picture of Yenbenzeik, as seen from
Prome.
A very fine picture by our artist, Mr. Devereiix, of the
Moyamensing Prison, Passyunk Road, Philadelphia.
A view of the famous Croton Bam, drawn for us by our
artist, Mr. Wade.
A picture of the famous State Reform School at West-
boro', drawn by our artist, Mr. Mallory.
A fine view of Caldwell, Lake George, New York, drawn
for us by our artist, ilir. Manning.
A large and fine engraving drawn by our artist, Mr.
Ma?iniiig^ representing tue apieuaid piece of needle work
on exhibition at Amory Hall, Uoston, by Mrs. Stimpson,
representing the surrender of Mary, queen of Scots.
A characteristic picture of a Turkish Musician of the
harem, iUustratiug the sketches written for us by Br, J.
V. t). Smith, drawn by our artist, Mr. Manning.
A beautiful flower-piece, representing the late exhibi-
tion of the Horticultural Society in Boston, by our ariiht,
Mr. Rosenburg.
THE BRIGHT SIDE.
It is a choice bit of philosophy to look ever
on the bright side of fortune. It is a delightful
frame of mind to cultivate, and a most enviable
spirit to possess. No matter what apparent
trouble may befall us, all is for the best ; that
which Joseph's brethren performed in the evil of
their hearts, God meant unto good. You may
rob misfortune of half her power and all her
frowns by meeting her with a smiling face. If
the sun is going down, look up to the stars; if
the earth is dark, keep your eye on heaven !
"The Secret Service Ship," — This popu-
lar story, by the late Charles E. Averill, has
been reprinted by us to supply the constant de-
mand, and is now for sale at our counter and at
all the periodical depots.
SPLINTEES.
The late Horticultural Show, in Boston,
was splendid. We shall illustrate it.
.... Lucy Randolph, a Dane, is under sen-
tence of death at Richmond, Va.
Mr. Webster's friends are very numerous
and very confident, they are.
Unconsciousness makes beautiful pic-
tures, says N. P. Willis, very truly.
Jenny Lind is already announced for the
next London operatic season.
Anna Bishop, the favorite vocalist, we
see by the Home Journal, is in Mexico.
Prince Albert is just thirty 'bur years of
age, but looks quite " settled " in life.
The only pleasures connected with a law
suit are the " pleasures of hope."
Gen. Haynau, the woman whipper, is
wincing under public condemnation.
A grand eruption of Mt. Etna took place
on the 2d of August last.
Anderson, the wizard of the north, has
had a brilliant season in Boston.
We are glad to learn that there has been
a tremendous slaughter of dogs in Prance.
THE PARIS FETES.
Paris has just passed through one of her peri-
odical displays and holidays. Among other en-
tertainments got up for the occasion, was a sham
fight on the River Seine, a full description of
which we find in the foreign papers, and a pic-
ture of which will be found on the last page of
this number. The naval combat between the
frigate Ville de Paris on one side, and the steam-
ers Areas and Calypso on the other, began in
that part of the river between the Pont des Inva-
lides and the Pont de Jena, in the presence of a
countless multitude. The attack on the frigate
was begun by an attempt on the part of the
steamer Calypso, near the Pont des Invalides,
who sent boats to reconnoitre the position of the
frigate. The boats were hailed by the sentinels
on board, and received with a fire of musketry,
which compelled them to fall back on the steam-
ers ; still, however, keeping up a well-sustained
fire as they retreated. In a moment, about a
dozen or two of boats belonging to the attacking
vessels, and with thtir crews and a party of in-
fantry soldiers, again made for the frigate, the
Ville de Paris, and attempted to board under
cover of the fire of two forts, each mountmg
three guns, standing on the bank to the left and
right of the frigate.
After a desperate attempt on the part of the
flotilla to capture the Yille de Paris, it was
obliged to retreat, with (presumed) considerable
loss on both sides, for the frigate and the steam-
ers supported their men during the action. The
cannon fired on both sides, as well as the mus-
ketry, and the bridges of the Invalides and of
Jena, with the banks, were soon involved in
wi'catbs of smoke. The commanding ofiicer of
the flotilla was, with others, taken prisoner, and
conducted on board the Ville dfe Paris, where he
surrendered his sword to the captain. When the
smoke cleared off, the Areas steamer was seen
moving from the place she had hitherto occupied
near the right bank, and bore down, with all her
steam up, on the frigate, while, as she advanced,
her swivel guns threw out their fires. The com-
bat lasted for some time, occasionally to the ad-
vantage of the crew of the Ville de Paris, and
again to the assailants. The latter, finding at
last all their efforts to be in vain, only thought of
providing for their retreat with as little damage
as possible. The Ville de Paris was not dis-
posed to let them off so easily : she manned her
boats, and sent out to the pursuit of the discom-
fited Areas, and, in the meantime, managed to
get clear of the combat.
The attack was, however, briskly continued.
Amid the roar of the guns, and the rattling of
the musketry, were heard the cries of the con-
quering, the shriek of the boatswain's whistle,
and the rolling of drums, with the shouts of the
delighted spectators on both banks. The board-
ing parties were at length completely repulsed,
and the frigate sent out her boats in pursuit of
her assailants, who retired rapidly. The maga-
zines of the Calypso and Areas blew up, and
both steamers hauled down their flags. The fire
ceased, and the Ville de Paris was victorious.
Gleason's Pictobi.\l. — This magnificently illustrated
quarto is constantly improving, both in its typographical
and pictorial appearance: and the last three or four num-
bers are really exceedingly beautiful. Mr. G'eason is now
doing a great business with his " Pictorial " and ■' Flag,"
■which, together, have a circulation of nearly or quite oiie
hui>dre.fi tliousand copies, weekly ! The character of both
these journals for fairness, general interest, and editorial
management, have no superiors in our country ; and the
proprietor has well earned his success and popularity, —
New England Cultivator.
WiLDwooD Cemetery. — This is the name
given to a beautiful rural cemetery in Winches-
ter, which was consecrated week before last.
The address was delivered by Rev. Dr. Neale, of
this city.
The "Olive Branch." — We looked in upon
our neighbor of the Olive Branch, the other
day. His office is neat and business-like. Mr.
Norris deserves the success he realizes.
There's the Rub ! — What a pity that the
hatters could not have made Kossuth heads, as
well as Kossuth hats!
Gold Diggings. — Californian and Australian
adventurers will find themselves well represented
in the present number.
*' To-Dat." — Mr. Hale renders his exceeding-
ly agreeable journal, bearing this title, a very
valuable literary record.
The Dusseldoef Gallery. — This delight-
ful collection of paintings is again open, and
deservedly popular.
THE MAGNETIC TELEGRAPH.
Nothing, we believe, not even the discovery of
the power of steam, exceeds the importance of
this modern discovery, and the application of it
to practical purposes. The humblest capacity is
struck with amazement on a careful contempla-
tion of the theme, and every one is at once im-
pressed with a realizing sense of the immense
and most incalculable benefit it already is and
must continue to be to the human family. Since
its discovery it has established an empire of
triumphs everywhere. In the nine years that
have elapsed since Morse erected his first tele-
graph from Baltimore to Washington, from
twenty to thirty thousand miles of wire have
been stretched over this continent. England
sends her galvanic missions under the sea to Ire-
land, and beneath the straits of Dover to Prance.
Naples unites herself to Gaeta by a subterranean
rod. In Austria, 3000 miles are in existence ;
in Germany, 4000 ; and all Europe is becoming
rapidly interlaced with these thought-avenues,
while Egypt, Asia, and South America will soon
become subject to their dominion. The earth
might be more than circled with the rerial sub-
terranean and submarine pathways for intelli-
gence, now in operation. Politics, individual
interest, nationality even, is affected by this light-
ning messenger, and why the Latter Day Saints
have not seized upon the idea as being the pre-
cursor of their oft foretold millennium, we know
not ; it would be a telling argument !
Astronomical. — Ladies' men will please
take notice that the best observatory in the Uni-
ted States for watching the " heavenly bodies,"
is decidedly Boston.
Prosperous. — Friend JoseljTi, of the Lynn
Bay State, has built him a nice house in that de-
lightful city.
Evident.— No law in the world has ever
plucked lip one's spirits like the Maine liquor law !
^'^^X
NEW CAVALRY COMPANY.
Colonel Isaac H. Wright paraded his new and
very splendid company of Light Dragoons, on
Thursday week, embracing in all over one hun-
dred horses and riders. The company, as it
passed our office, made a decidedly soldier-like
and well-disciplined appearance. The men sat
in their saddles, they did not hang to them, and
used their bridle hands, as though they had
turned a snafile and curb before. We never saw
so fine a body of horses gathered at once in our
city. The uniform of this company is the same
as that of the XT. S. army, neat, serviceable and
handsome ; the cap is of the new army pattern,
and in excellent good taste. This corps, under
so able and experienced an officer as Colonel
Wright, can hardly fail to become one of the best
drilled and well-organized cavalry companies in
the Union. We shall, next week, give a repre-
sentation of the Light Dragoons as they appeared
on the line of march.
Very evident. — " What is the merriest city
of Europe?** asked one sea captain of another,
in our office, the other day. " Naples, I should
say," answered the other. " Guess not," re-
sponded the first. "Berlin must be, since it is
always on the Spree .'" His companion knocked
under, as a matter of course.
EuNNY, isn't it"? — The airiest place in Scot-
land— " Auld Ayre " — gave birth to Burns ; so
that we have no faith in hot stoves inspiring
poets, or producing "words that burn." An
airing once in a while is not a bad thing for a
poet, we candidly believe.
« ^•^. »
Theatrical. — Our neighbor of the Evening
Gazette, W. W. Clapp, Jr., Esq., has commenced
in his paper a theatrical record of the Boston
stage, f om its earliest days to the present time.
Mr. Clapp is an accurate chronicler.
Monumental. — We observe that the Univer-
salists, as a denomination, are raising a fund for
the purpose of erecting a monument at Mount
Auburn over the remains of the late Hosca
Balloa, of this city.
Boston Custom House. — How about that
5 per cent ? Wonder if all those not turned out
came down with the tin, as was demanded ?
Funny world this ! There were two who went
Scott free — that is certain !
A GOOD Rule. — Speak just what yon think,
but fia-3t be sure that what you think is just.
In this city, by Kev. Mr. Skinner, Mr. Benjamin Q,
Budding to Miss Lacy A. Fespenden , toth of Worcester.
By Rev Mr. Cnmmings, Mr. Edwin A. White to Miaa
Jane H. Wilson.
By Rev. Mr. Gray, Mr. Charles M. Kendall to Miss
Mary Cecilia Pcirce.
At Cambridgeport, Mr. Charles H. Spencer, of Boston,
to Miss Mary C. Brown.
At Dorchester, by Rev. Mr. Clinch, Mr. Jacob Homer
Crane to Miss Ellen Maria Bird
At Sonierville, by Rev. Mr. Williams, Mr. D. S. Bowers
to Miss Sarah Maria Breeden, of Boston.
At Lawrence, Mr, William Acheson, of Milton, to Mias
Sarah Ann Acheson.
At Leominster, by Rev, Mr Smith, Mr. Nathaniel G.
Thom, of Cincinnati, to Miss Marv E. Joslin,
At Springfield, by Rev. Mr. Bridge, Mr, Charles E. Fisk
to Miss Luthera S. Spout, of Cireenwich ; Mr. Hilkiah
Hawks to Miss Ellen S. Fisk, of Shelburne.
At Acworth, N, H., Mr. B. F. Woods, of West Cam-
bridge, to Miss N. J. Murdough.
At Portland, Me ., by Rev. Dr. Nichols, Mr. Charles E.
Jose to Miss Martha A. Ward, of West Bethel.
At Augusta, Me , Capt. A. H. Caldwell, of ship Ply-
mouth Rock, to Frances Augusta Hallet.
At Warren, Me., Mr. John T. Bradlee, of Boston, to
Miss Rebecca R. Richmond,
At New York, by Rev Mr. Tennyle, Mr, Lyman E.
Kingbury, of Needham, Mass., to Miss Louisia H. Holland .
At Springwater, N. Y., by Rev. Mr. Van Rensallaer, Mr.
Robert McCarthy to Miss Eliza, Jaae Peirce.
In this city. Miss Elizabeth Kelsey, 20; Mrs. Hepzibah
C, Rhodes, 4o ; Mrs. Hannah Gardiner, 78 ; Mr. Ephraim
O. Bouve, 62; Miss Catherine Sargent, 77.
At South Boston. Mrs. Susan Jane Parsons, 33.
At Charlestown, Mr, John R. Spinney, 26 ; Ho n. Benja-
min Thompson, Bl, C, 54.
At Cambridgeport, child of Mr. W. H. Onthank, 1.
At Brookline, Mrs. Ehzabeth White Thayer, 47.
At Watertown, Miss Helen Frazer. 22.
At ErooKfield, Kev. Micah Stone. 82.
At Saugus, Charles A, Cheever, M. D., 58.
At Danvers, Capt. Sylvester Proctor, 83.
At Salem, Capt. Elijah Fuller, 74.
At Salisbury. Mr. John Pike, 82.
At Worcester, Mr. George Tiddle, 22.
At Leicester, Charles K. Sprague, 11.
At Westminster, Mrs. Parmela Kendall, 47.
At New Bedford. Mr- Joseph Warren, 41.
At Springlield, Mr. William Howe, 49.
At Middleborough, Mrs. Meicy Sherman, 69.
At Dover, N.H., Mrs. Hannah Allen, 61.
At Manchester, N, H., Emma S. Cilley, of Boston,
At Portland, Me., Widow Eunice Richardson, 42.
At Bangor, Me., George Leonard, E^y., 68.
At New York, Capt. John Swift, of New Bedford, 43.
At Norfolk, Va., Mr. Daniel Pease, 35.
At Cleveland, Ohio, Mr. Elbridge Hosmer, 45.
At Fort Smith, Ark., Mrs. Maria Hagar, 57.
At sea, on board sch'r. Virginia, Mr. Leander Dudiea.
At sea, on board sch, Louisa Sears, on tlie pa>5Sdge from
Port au Prince to New York, \V iUiam Biake, of England,
19 < ear,*, and Wiilium Powers, 19.
— AND —
LITERARY WEEKLY JOUEiSrAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A Record of the heaxUifal and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. ]iich paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events iu all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, In this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
ephere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also lo
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It U
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and eixty-four square,
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter ar.cl
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavD
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest ti\.<i
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding ail
that is evil in its tendency. In sliort, tlio object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for i:H
fcombined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE VOIUME.
OR, 84 00 PER ANNUM.
INV.'KUULT IN ADVANXE.
Each nix months completes a volume, commencing on
the frit of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
0:17^ One copy of tiie Flag of our Uxios. and one copy
of the Pictorial DitAwiKG-liooai Compakiox, one jeiir,
for $5 UO.
KJ^ The PicTOHiAT. Drawixg-Room Compakiox may be
obtained at any of tiie periodical depots throughout tho
country, and of newsmen, at ten ce7tts per single copy
Publiihed every Satdrday, by
i\ ULEASON, Boston, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New Tork.
A, WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & Co., Ill Baltimore St., Baltimore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 10 West 3d Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 AVoodward Avenue, Detroit,
E. K. ^^'OOD\VARI>, cor. 4th and Chesnut, St. Louis. - -«
Qy= Subsarptions received at either of the above plants
238
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Writton for OluaHon'fi Pictorial.]
HER I LEt'T ItEHIND WE.
BY CHARLES M. TBNLET.
'TIs truo I noithor wcop nor filph,
When frionds about mo are ;
Nor can tlioy on my brow ilcecry
A single trace of care.
Yet could they view my inmost soul,
Perhaps they then would find
Tlio name, cnj^avcd on memory's scroll,
Of her I loft behind.
'Tifi true the cheerful smile is mine.
And real its light appears ;
But 0 I 'ti8 like the summer wind,
Accompanied by tears !
And often scenes of by-gone days
I'resont themselves to mind ;
And full as often tear-drops (low
I'or her I left behind.
'T is true T mix in pleasure's train,
And mingle with the fair;
And list me to soft music's strain — ■
But 't is to shed a tear I
For 0, the joy that pleasure gives —
The wreath of beauty twined,
Keminds mo of a fairer still —
'Tis her I left behind.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No VII.
BT EEV. F. W. HOLLAND.
JERUSALEM.
Jekttsalem is a Christian city, as well as a Jewish, in its mem-
ories. The most interesting spot to us was, of course, the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre. Whenever it is open, a Turkish guard
sits smoking just within the onter door, to prevent violence which
dilferent sects of Christians have been wont to do each other — a
mournful commentary upon unity of faith and charity of spirit.
As we entered tlie church, its tawdry splendor, its rudeness of
architecture and poverty of decoration impressed us mournfully.
This should have been the most imposing cathedral in all Chris-
tendom. Now, the rain drives in through the cracked dome, the
pavement is rough, the walls of coarsely-cut stone are disfigured
at intervals by paintings of the Russian school, and the whole
effect is rather that of a deserted riding-school, than of the holiest
altar which Catholic Christianity has anywhere found. The
sepulchre was discovered probably by the Greek Empress Helena,
who visited the Holy Land at the advanced age of fourscore, and
ordered the erection of temples upon the principal spots where
worship is now offered, early in the fourth century. This gave a
zest to pilgrimage. Monks, military and secular, with hermits
and nuns, flocked into the country, and a tide of European life set
towards Palestine, swelled rather than stayed by constant perse-
cution and occasional martyrdom. The present building has
been twice destroyed, in the sei'enth and again in the eleventh
century, besides severe injury at other times. It may cover the
" new tomb," I think, without covering Golgotha, too. It is evi-
dent, that there are several natural grottoes within the rotunda,
n'id as the original pavement of the city was more than thirty feet
lower than the present, probably these caverns were known and
used ; from its nearness to Pilate's house and the " west end " of
the city, there was very probably a garden attached to some rich
dwelling. All these probabilities convince us that Calvary could
not have been here ; this is a depression that was undoubtedly a
hill. This must have been in the heart of the city, unless we give
up every other sacred tradition ; while the place of criminal exe-
cution would naturally and necessarily have been, as the Gospels
imply, outside of the city — in some open place, where a crowd
could gather, and the people upon the city house-tops could gaze
at the mournful spectacle.
The first object pointed out to strangers is the marble slab
where the Saviour was laid, and the body prepared for burial. It
■is an oblong stone as plain as plain can be ; and, of course, is not
likely to have been remembered, even if hearsay had kept alive
some trace of the "new tomb wherehi never man was laid."
Then came a crowd of things of less account : to the left, a little
cavern, the pretended tomb of Nicodemus and his family, by-and-
by a piece of the pillar of scourging ; next to this a sacristy con-
taining the spur, sword and beads of Godfrey of Bouillon, who
sleeps beneath the consecrated pavement — the beads alone are
gilt, the sword is entirely plain and shows service, the spur is of
fearful length and enough to kill any horse. These are believed
to be genuine; at any rate, they are deeply interesting as monu-
ments of heroic piety, which was symbolized by the sword as well
as the beads and the spur. Then, to the extreme right, the place
where the true cross is said to have been found for the pious old
queen, which was distinguished from the other crosses by its
power to work miracles, and has been so marvellously multiplied
since, that pieces of it are met with in half the churches of Europe.
The tomb itself is beneath a small dome directly under the
great dome of " Santa Scpulclirc," as it is termed. You enter a
low door Avith exceeding difficulty because of the pressure of the
crowd, Tbere are two apartments ; one where the angels snt, and
the inner one where the body was laid, A simple olilong white
marble slab is all that meets the eye under a profusion of gold
and silver lamps, wblcli are kept foi'cver burning.
It was pleasant to bo relieved from gaudy decoration and tinsel
show. It seemed as if the sacrcdness of the spot Iiad been felt,
and the heart ajjin-opriated to undislurbed reverie and spiritual
supplication. I pity the man that would not be touched within
that vaulted shrine of (ifteen imndrcd years' devotion; the mere
j)ossihility that the Saviour rested there — as certaiidy no one can
disprove — is enough to start the tears of gratitude and prompt tlie
vows of obedience.
The native rock is to he seen in dilferent parts of the cliurch,
tlic tombs of several of the kings of Jerusalem are shown, small
chapels commemorate various parts of the Saviour's suffering ;
but the general air of the place is meanness and dilapidation.
Owing to a fierce dispute between the Greek and Latin churches,
upon which tlie Sultan has recently made a very independent de-
cision, no repairs can he made on the injured dome. Indeed, the
battle of sects is here waged unrelentingly. Not only has blood
often been shed at the annual distribution of the sacred fire in the
strife of each party to light their torches first; but, of the gro-
tesque gold and silver lamps strung across the building, part be-
long to one sect, part to another; and, the Armenians cannot
light the Greeks', nor the Greeks the Copts', nor the Copts the
Latins' lamps; and so, where all ought to melt into that harmony
of feeling which is the music of heaven, there is nothing but quar-
relling and hatred. Even the scorn of the Infidel cannot shame
these brethren into decent civility — the Latin friars filled our ears
with scandal regarding the Greeks ; the Greeks would have doubt-
less repaid the compliment with interest, but could not communi-
cate with us more than by signs and salams. And, even the
grave does not unite these disciples of the "new commandment"
of love. Every sect has an entirely separate burial-place; and
Turk or Jew will as soon lie down by the side of Greek and Latin
Christians, as they will by one another. It is like passing from
one country to another to go from the Protestant burying-ground
— where I saw the Episcopal bisliop, witli his oriental robes and
flowing beard, amongst such gravestones as we sec at home — to
the Turkish cemetery, with a turban at each head, or the Arme-
nian, with every man's business marked on his tombstone by em-
blems of his trade, or the Jewish, engraved with Scripture-pas-
sages in venerable-looking Hebrew.
I witnessed only one grand festival in Jerusalem — and that I
hastened from Egj'pt to see — the Greek celebration of Epiphany.
Nothing could be imagined more stupid and unmeaning. A
filthy and uneasy crowd were gathered in St. Sepulchre to hear
monotonous and unmusical chants, and behold three patriarchs
in gorgeous robes go through an extra amount of bowing and
kneeling. There was evidently nothing to see and no comfort in
seeing. The unwashed multitude seemed impressed by noihing
better than curiosity; and I must own that as we passed out by
the Turkish guard, we were not disposed to hold our heads any
higher than they because of our Christianity. The Latin ves-
pers which I attended afterwards were far more gratifying because
more simple.
Outside, were a crowd of beggars and a complete market of
crosses, chaplcts, pearl-shells and pious trinkets. My companion
laid in a stock at the Monks' Depository in the Franciscan con-
vent. Pew Protestants have ventured within this vast storehouse
of pilgrim-piety. Tons of beads of olive and pearl, monster
heaps of crosses, and cargoes of carved shells arc manufactured
under the orders of friars, and sold at no exorbitant price, Beth-
lehem lives entirely by the business, and one store of the kind has
even been opened by the English consulate for the help of con-
verted Jews.
" Via Doloroso " is the longest and straightest, as it certainly is
the most interesting, street in Jerusalem. Here are shown the house
of Pilate, the spot — now a chapel — where Jesus was scourged,
the residence of Annas, that where Veronica offered the napkin,
which she received again with the Saviour's face upon it, the
corner where the women were told by Jesus not to weep for him,
but to weep for themselves, three scenes of his fainting and that
where they compelled Simon to take up the cross. The best-
looking ancient house is named after Dives, and a stone at the
door is pointed out as the seat of Lazarus among the dogs at the
rich man's gate; and an arch over the street contains a window
where the Saviour was offered to the people side by side with Ba-
rabbas. Apparently, the guardians of the Holy Land, as they term
themselves, did not mean to leave any devotional want unsup-
plied to the credulous stranger. And, as ninety-nine in every hun-
dred of visitors are simple as children, the Empress Helena's labors,
which later piety has magnified as well as improved upon, seem
abundantly blessed. Considering her visit did not take place be-
fore 325 A. D., and that fire and sword had destroyed everything
destructible once at least before her day, so that Josephus says
" no passer-by would imagine that the place had been inhabited,"
we see how impossible it must be to prove or disprove any of
these pious legends ; and that Dr. Robinson's rule of believing
nothing on the mere "say-so" of the friars, was as absurd as
Chateaubriand's rule of believing everything on the same author-
ity. The best answer was a Franciscan's, as we crossed St, Se-
pulchre to the chapel of his brethren, and I pressed upon him the
incredibility of more than a score of events having taken place
so close around the tomb of the Kedeemer. " Ah, brother, I have
never paid any attention to such questions !"
Near this enshrined heart of Christendom is the ruined hospital
of the knights of St. John, before their day a house of reception
for poor pilgrims, and protected by the Turks for centuries be-
cause of the services rendered by this charitable order to humanity.
[WritU;n for GleMon's Pictorial.]
AUTOGltAPlIS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED DTDIVIDUALS.
No. VI.
BT WM. BDWAKl) KNOWLES.
David Paul Browk has liad eminent success as a dramatic
writer; and his occasional pieces are deservedly popular. But
his legal profession has so modified his handwriting, that it is im-
possible to discover in it any peculiar traits of character.
The chirography of Judge Stohy is an excellent one — bold
and deliberately formed. Nothing can be more legible, even
when hurried by a press of business, forming a most desiraljle ac-
complishment in a man of the legal profession, who necessarily
writes so much, so swiftly, and such important mattei*.
Lord Bacon says: "Bead not to contradict and confute, nor
to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse,
but to weiijh and coiisitkr."
Major Noati has written several successful plays, which were
well received in their day. His manuscript is excellent — broad,
massive and rolling. When viewed in the main, it is highly pic-
turesque. " His friends were many, and his enemies few." The
late life of Major Noah is confidently recommended to our read-
ers as being richly worth their perusal.
Mr, Smith has produced several good poems in his day. He
has also- written some poor ones. His "Powhatan, a Metrical
Romance " was a slim affair — scarcely up to the standard of •me-
diocrity. Of late, he has done better. His manuscript is vacil-
lating and unformed.
Tlie reputation of Joseph E. Chandler is deservedly high.
His prose tales are beatitiful, and give evidence of superior imag-
inative talent. He has also produced a multitude of addresses,
sketches and profound essays. His chirography is bold and dash-
ing, well shown in the signature.
Our readers are familiar with the prose and poetic contributions
to the press of E. Coetiss Hine, U. S. N, The author possesses
a vivid and poetic imagination, a graphic pen, and a very ready
hand. This last is shown especially by his signature, which
evinces an effort only to place his ideas legibly on paper, without
any effort at ornament or display in the chirography. His manu-
script is distinct and bold.
RicnAKD CoEDEN, the father of the Corn Law movement in
England, is a man of most indomitable application and persever-
ance. His great characteristic, as evinced, we think, also in his
signature, is action. He is never idle. What he does, is done
qiiicldy ; and he seems ratlier to slight detail in the pursuit of some
greater purpose, or the ultimate result of his efforts.
'^-^y-O-^^^^
The editor of the New York Tribune is well known to the
American public, as a man of very strong feeling, and one rather
troubled with the various isms of the day. His hand shows him
to he very impulsive, and, like liis manners and dress, is very
careless and — so to speak — slovenl}'. Such a man can never be
great. He will always make himself felt, and will make the
" world aware that he is in it," but will build no fame for himself
in the future.
^^y^^Zle^^C^
/^^^.^^
Mr. J, C. Neat-. was the author of the popular " Charcoal
Sketches," But in our opinion they were far over-rated. There
is but a repetition of the same ideas, mixed with slang and low
burlesque. But he evinct=d a talent for political writing, and in
that sphere stood deservedly high.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
239
THE V. S. 3IIJVT.
This building, its machinery, and the vast
amount of coining accomplished within its walls,
since the flow of gold from California, is now
classed as one of the most attractive lions of
Philadelphia, and it has become a favorite resort,
especially with strangers. For some weeks past,
however, the visitors have been deban-ed from
examining the vast collection of coins of all
ages, arranged within that portion of the princi-
pal building known as the "cabinet," in conse-
quence of the painters being engaged in renovat-
ing the appearance of its cases, and beautifying
the ceilings of the several rooms. Mr. Gibson,
who had the -work in hand, has now completed
his labors, and their results command the admi-
ration of the visitors. The dome which lights
the centre room of the cabinet, and also the en-
trance hall below, have been beautified with
stained glass. The offices on the lower floor
and the halls have also been revivified by the art
of the painter.
THE L.\ST OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE.
"For the last few days," says the Weekly
Times, " a vast number of persons have assem-
bled round the ruins of the once far-famed Crys-
tal Palace, probably to witness its gradual demo-
lition, as they once did to sec its wonderful erec-
tion. The palace is now a desolate blank, and
in a few days every portion of the upper part
^vill be taken away, hundreds of vans being en-
gaged daily in the transit of the materials to
Sydenham. At the close of the week will come
the ' diggings,' and here unthoughtof treasures
are expected lo be found. The flooring will have
to be taken up last, and the most extraordinary
prices have been offered for the privilege of
searching the ground underneath, where it is
expected many valuables will be found, as great
room was afforded in the flooring of the Great
Exhibition for valuables to pass through. The
model lodging-houses erected by Prince Albert
are also demolished."
AN IDEA.
The Boston Post gives an account of the way
an officer in the British army of India killed an
alligator, and thinks it may have suggested the
voltaic battery in the capture of the whale. The
alligator had established himself close to a ford,
the disgust and terror of the neighboring popu-
lation. The officer sewed up six pounds of gun-
powder in the stomach of a nice fresh kid, with
which he went trolling for the creature, as a fish-
erman would for pike. Having bolted it greedi-
ly, the brute sank to the bottom to enjoy its di-
gestion at leisure. His scientific enemy then
applied a voltaic battery to copper wire running
through his fishing line, and there was a violent
tumultuous boiling of the water, large torn pieces
floating hither and thither in the eddy. The
alligator's life and his dinner were finished to-
gether.
New England Cultivator. — We have re-
ceived No. 1, Vol. 2d, of this very excellent
agricultural weekly, and do most cordially rec-
ommend it to our friends and the public. The
editor, Mr. Geo. P. Burnliam, is a gentleman of
much practical experience, and a very racy and
capable writer. The Cultivator is got up in
quarto style, and is richly worthy of binding.
Success to you, George.
Innocence. — " 0 dear !" said a fashionable
girl, when she first beheld a cucumber, " I al-
ways thought such things grew in slices." This
is almost as good as the whe legislator asking
a lumberman what he did with the rafts after he
had sold the lumber off them. He had a glim-
mering that they were taken back for a fresh
load.
Lofty Stalk. — Major John Bucklin, Jr., of
South Adams, has raised a stalk of the common
twelve rowed yellow corn, which measures ten
feet three inches in height.
Time's Changes. — Otsego Hall, the late re-
sidence of J. Fenimorc Cooper, is about to be
converted into a hotel. It was built by the no-
velist's father.
Sad. — A woman, a stranger, who was landed
from one of the boats at Detroit, recently laid
down in a stone yard, and died friendless and
alone.
Productive. — Capt. Montgomery, of Rock-
bridge, Va., sowed half a bushel of Poland rye,
that produced a yield of thirty bushels.
tDagsiilrc ©atljeringa.
The potato crop in Ireland is improving.
Every man's fortune is in his own power.
The coldest winds of Egypt, are those which
blow from the south.
There are eight men confined in the St. Louis
jail, on the charge of murder.
W. F. Johnson is playing an engagement at
the Troy Museum.
The Ocean Eagle sailed from New York, late-
ly, with 200 passengers for Australia.
The use of buffaloes as beasts of burden on
the prairies, is talked of in Texas.
A f;irm:'r near Bangor, Me., had one hundred
bushels of wheat per acre, on a large lot.
It is proposed to enlarge New Bedford Com-
mon to eight acres, at a cost of S18,500.
Tlic Reindeer steamer was going nineteen
knots per hour five minutes before her calamity.
Richard Adams Locke has been engaged to
write, for Miss Julia Dean, a five act play, found-
ed on a prominent event in American history.
A keg of powder exploded at Chillicothe,
Ohio, a few days ago, demolishing six houses,
and, it is supposed, killing several persons.
In consequence of the heavy freshets in Geor-
gia, corn has advanced from 40 to 75 cents per
bushel, and wheat from 60 cents to £1.
A number of wealthy Chinese residents in San
Francisco have sent to Cliina for a dramatic
troupe, which is shortly expected there.
A German, engaged in a sugar refinery in St.
Louis, fell into a cauldron, a few days since, and
was dreadfully scalded.
An only child of George Pillsbury, of Saco,
came to his death by eating fly-poison, which
had been placed on a table in the room.
Peter Redding killed Christiana Kramer, in
Cincinnati, by cutting her head open with an
axe. He then cut his own throat; both died.
Cause — love and marriage.
The shoe business in Lynn, during the past
year, has excelled in activity the enterprise of
many preceding years, and the demand promises
well for the future.
The San Francisco Whig states that " within
the last three months no less than fourteen pairs
of twins have been born on the sterile hills of
San Francisco."
Several trees on the Mount of Olives are sup-
posed to be 800 years old. Chestnut trees are
known to live 900 years; while oaks are sup-
posed to live 1500 or 1600 years.
Medical writers all agree that gluttony con-
ducts more people to the grave than drunkenness.
The old adage is true, that " many people dig
tiieir graves with their teeth."
Chris. Lilly, the notorious New Yoi'k "bniis-
er," has purchased a schooner at Panama, which,
at last accounts, he was fitting out for the gold
mines of Australia.
We are informed that a highly respectable
lady of Dedham, who took a prominent part in
the late Spiritual Convention in this city, has be-
come insane, and been taken to a hospital.
AVood Bouldin, Esq., was the purchaser of
Roanoke, in Charlotte Co., Va., the homestead
of Jolm Randolph, which was sold at auction the
other day, for something less than $25,000.
Lecturing before public audiences is the best
paid of any similar labor in New England, and
the most attractive speakers are eagerly sought
for by lyceums and associations.
The number of deaths in Havana, in August,
was U8 — about double the usual number at this
season of the year. It is understood the returns
do not include the soldiers, among whom the
mortality has been very great.
A farmer in Lower Canada, in a fit of passion,
killed his horse by stabbing him with a pitchfork.
The sentient creature then went to a shed near
his house, and hung himself with a rope and bit
of chain.
Thomas Rector, who has served out one sen-
tence often years in the state prison, for killing
a man in Albany, has repeated the crime by kill-
ing the keeper of a gambling house in the same
city, with whom he had had some difficulty.
The editor of the New York Mirror having re-
ceived a ticket of invitation to the dinner of the
American Vegetation Society, requests the offi-
cers of tlic society to furnish him with a bill of
fare, before he accepts the invitation.
Fine sensibilities are like woodbines, delight-
ful luxuries of beauty to twine round a solid up-
right stem of understanding, but very poor things
if, unsustained by strength, they are left to creep
along the ground.
The greatest pleasure connected with wealth
consists in acquiring it. Two months after a
man comes into the possession of a fortune, he
feels just as prosy and fretful as he did when he
worked for " four-and-six " a day.
There is probably no place in the world where
the honor of high birth is so much valued by
those who possess it, so much aped and envied
by those who do not, as in England. One of
her distinguished writers says: "There is a
scoundrelism about persons of low birth."
A new threshing machine is said to have been
invented by a Mr. Palmer, of North Carolina,
which, with four men to feed it, will take a hun-
di-ed cart loads of wheat in the morning, lying in
sheaf, pa.'^s it thi-ough the thresher, sepa^-ate every
kernel from the straw, winnow, clean and put
into bags 1500 bushels before sunset.
jForeign JJHiaccUang.
It is said that Georgey is to he, or has already
been, consigned to the fortress of Kufstein, in the
Tyrol.
The new Crystal Palace at Sydenham will
much surpass the old in beauty, and will occupy
three hundred acres.
Accounts from Berlin state that the Austrian
government contemplates abolishing the export
and import duties on raw and spun silk.
The new Cunard propeller, which commences
running in December between Liverpool and
Chagrcs, will also touch at Portland, Me., and
Boston.
The French government has sent M. Emile
Chevalier to England, for the purpose of inquir-
ing into the construction aud operation of the
model lodging-houses.
Md'lle. Rachel, the celebrated French trage-
dienne, who, at the express command of the
empress of Russia, went to Berlin, has been
playing to empty houses.
Emigration to Australia continues undimin-
ished. Fifty ships, of from 500 to 2000 tons,
are entered to sail during the present month
from Liverpool, London and Plymouth.
One of the ostriches in the Regent's Park Zoo-
logical Gardens recently laid four eggs, which
have been subjected to one of Canetlo's Incuba-
tors, and the result will be reported in a few days.
In the last number of the North British Re-
view, an attempt is made to prove that T. B.
Read is a greater poet than Longfellow, and
Poe a greater poet than Bryant.
Some sound beams, formed from the wood of
the mulberry tree, have been found in the ruins
of Nineveh, where they are supposed to have
been placed at least 700 years before the birth of
Christ !
A country court in France has condemned the
owner of a dog that had gone mad, and had
caused the death by hydrophobia, of a man with
three children, to a fine of 20,000 francs, to be
divided among the children.
In twenty-two years there have been only
eighteen accidents in France by the explosion of
boilers. In that country no locomotive, nor any
steam boiler, can be used without having "been
first submitted in the examination and test of
one of the government engineers.
Gottshalt, the New Orleans pianist, was at
Madrid on the 12th ult.,wherche gave asplendid
concert, during which he was received with fran-
tic plaudits. The audience, composed of the
aristocracy of Spain, threw wreaths of flowers
at his feet, and hailed him with enthusiasm.
Soktfs 3ni%tt
Sanits of ©oli.
.... He is unfit to rule others who caimot
mile himself.
.... Sorrow shows us truths, as the night
brings out stars.
.... As daylight can he seen through the
smallest holes, so do the most trifling things
show a person's character.
.... Talents, merit, beauty, rank, and for-
tune are responsibilities sufficient, without add-
ing to them ostentation.
.... The fawning courtier and the surly squire
often mean the same thing — each bis own inter-
est.— Bishop Berkeley.
.... Do you suppose we owe nothing to Pope's
deformity 1 He said to himself, " If my person
be crooked,my verses shall be straight." — HazJitt.
.... Tears are as dew which moistens the
earth, and renews its vigor. Remorse has none ;
it is a volcano, vomiting forth lava which burns
and destroys.
.... No one can tell the misery of an unloved
and lonely child; in after-life a degree of hard-
ness comes with years, and the man is not sus-
ceptible of pain like the child.
.... My notions about life arc much the same
as they are about travelling : there is a good
deal of amusement on the road, but, after all,
one wants to be at rest. — Sonthey.
.... Purpose is the edge and point of charac-
ter, it is the superscription on the letter of talent.
Character without it is blunt and torpid ; genius
without it is bullion — splendid and uncirculating.
.... Sorrows, pains, and troubles, equally di-
vided among community greatly diminishes
them; while the good fortune of an individual
is immeasurably increased by the participations
of many. — Hosea BaHou.
.... Little truisms often give the clue to long,
deep, intricate, undisplayed trains of thought,
which have been going on in silence and secrecy
for a long time belbre the commonplace result in
which most meditations end is expressed.
.... The surest hindrance to success is to
have too high a standard of refinement in our
own minds, or too high an opinion of the judg-
ment of the public. He who is determined not
to be satisfied with anything short of perfection,
w-ill never do anything at all, cither to please
himself or others. — HazliK.
.... He whose religion is ever on his lips,
has seldom any of that valuable treasure in his
heart; it keeps watch, like a liveried porter at
his door, but there is nobody at home, and there
is nothing to steal ; if it were well lodged in his
soul, he would not be so afraid of its escape.
He who vouches for his own truthfulness by an
oath, will tell a lie the next moment ■without a
blush.
Punch says the end of man's life is glory.
The end of woman's life is about two-and-thirty.
Dobbs says that when a painter can no longer
earn a living, he should throw away Wis palate.
A medical wTiter in the Scalpel speaks of two
old maids, "so dry iheij rattled J" The fellow
ought to be indicted.
As an inducement to their clients, the Circle-
ville Journal says that all subscribers paying in
advance, will be entitled to a Jirst rate obituary
notice in case of death.
The man who never told an editor how he
could better his paper, has gone to Schenectady
to marry a woman that has never looked into a
looking-glass. Their children will not live.
The newspapers are discussing the question
whether it is not time for passengers to withhold
their "plate" from the "fast" captains, who boast
of making the "shortest passage on record."
Cowardice is the "ice" which melts and nms
away in time of danger, and is quite a different
article from cool courage. Another frigid article
of the same kind, is advice which is not warmly
received when given gratuitously.
A young lady told her father a few days since,
that tiie doctors said gold was good for canker,
and that she had the canker in her mouth, and
wanted a pair of handsome gold ear-rings ! Her
father probably thought that such remedies
would cause a collapse in his purse.
Said a bed hug to a mosquito whom he chanced
to meet : " Hoiv is it you make out to extract so
much more of life's current than myself, when I
can bite as severely as you? How can you
explain it?" "For particulars, see small bills,"
quoted the mosquito, with dignity.
Moses says he wishes he could hear of some
place where people never die ; he would go and
end his days there. Moses is the same eccentric
individual, who, attending divine service in a
church where the people came very late to meet-
ing, observed that it seemed to be the fashion
there "for nobody to go to meeting till after
everybody had got there."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial DRAWiNff
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, mth giltedgea
and back, and illummed sides, forming a supurb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Fojt and Five Hundred Pages,
AND OOKTAININQ NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world :
of Scenery in all pitrts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLmnNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilhant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in it-s pagen
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News llecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOJf ,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL ANT) KEFINED
Miscellaneous Pamily Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tjiles, writtJin exp. ^sly for
tliis paper, and at a very great cost. In pohtics, ~nd on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoi-al nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER EOR THE MILLION,
AND A -WELCOME '^^SITOIl TO TIIE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading U'eekly -paper hi the United States, and its literary
contents are aUowed, by the beet judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitCc(i
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of tbousauds of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STTBSCEIBEES.
1 Gubscriber, one year S2 00
3 Bubscribera, " 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 « " .' 11 00
16 " " ' 20 00
One copy of the FlaO op our Ustoh', and one copy of the
Pictorial Dbaw&'g-Room Compastion, one yeai-, for S5 60.
]!Cr' Invariably in advance,
f Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
0I?=* All orders should be addressed, POST PAID, to the
Poblisiier op the FL.1.G OF oua Uniox.
\* Tlie Flag can be obtained at any of the nezcspcrpcf
depots in the United Staf-es, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUft CEKT8 per sing'.c copy.
P. GLEASON,
PUEUSHEB AST) PrOPEIETOB, BOSTON, MAS3.
240
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAAVING ROOM (!0:MPANI0N.
NAVAL COMBAT ON THE SEINE, AT PARIS.
[For description, see page 237.]
MOUNT ALEXANDER.
Our engraving below represents the rond to
the Mount Alexander " di^trings," Australia.
On Mitchell's map this is laid down as Mount
Byng, but is now known as Mount Alexander.
It is the most prolific spot yet discovered in this
modern Ophir, and has already yielded an al-
most incredible amount of gold. Not only are
vessels leaving England by scores for Australia,
but hundreds and hundreds of adventurers are
leaving the United States every week, bound
thitherward. The same extravagant stories
reach us from Australia as from California,
many false ones, and many true ; many go to en-
rich themselves, and many to lay their bones in
the sands of the country. It requires an iron
constitution to withstand the hardships necessa-
rily endured, the severe test of acclimating, and
the bad food afforded to the settlers. Want of
good society, and especially of females, is sadly
felt. In short, it is a second California. On
pages 228 and 229 will be found a set of pictures
relating to this same subject, now so much
talked about.
THE ROAD TO MOUNT ALEXANDER GOLD FIELDS^ THROUGH TilE BLACK FOREST^ PROVINCE OP VICTORIA^ AUSTRALIA.
tm
F. GLEASON,
( CORNER BROMFLELD
j AND TIIEMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1852.
e2 PER VOLUME.
10 Cts. single.
Vol. in. No. 16.— Whole No. 68.
LIGHT DRAGOOAS.
The very spirited and truthful picture which
we present below, by our artist, Mr. Manning,
represents Col. Isaac H. Wright's new and very
soldier-like body of cavalry, organized in this
city the past season, and which paraded for the
first time on the last Wednesday in May, and for
the first time in uniform on Thursday, the 23d
of September, at which time our artist sketched
them. There were about a hundred horses and
riders in the ranks, and we do not remember to
have seen a more splendid cavalry parade, or a
finer body of men and horses together than on
this occasion. On the 7th and 8th inst., the
company performed camp duty, after the laws
of this State, at Simpson's Field, near the
Cambridge Observatory, acquitting themselves
with distinguished credit, and evincing a higli
state of discipline and thorough drill ; they were
reWewed on the afternoon of the 8th inst., by
Gov. Boutwcll, on Boston Common. Any giv-
en number of men and boys may join themselves
into a company, and after certain ceremonies,
obtain a charter of the State authorities, and
march or ride about our streets with guns and
swords : but this docs not make soldiers. To
render these organizations of any intrinsic and
positive value, much labor, time and assiduity are
requisite to perfect men in the school of the sol-
dier, to accustom them to the promptest obedi-
ence at the word of command, and also to operate
with sure effect in union and as one man. Herein
lies the great strength of these organizations ;
otherwise, the rawest militia, each one for him-
self, acknowledging no master, and knowing
no discipline, would be equally efficient in time
of need with the best drilled corps. We are sat-
isfied, from personal observation and careful in-
quiry, that the Boston Light Dragoons have
made up their minds to perfect themselves in
cavalry exercise, and the very beautiful and
elaborate drill attached to this high and impor-
tant arm of the service. They have turned out
to drill, not in squads, but as a company, until
the horses even have got the cue, and obey alike
the word of command, prompted by a turn of
the bit. The men who compose this body of
soldiery are of the bone and sinew of our citi-
zens, and a finer set of figures never graced cav-
alry saddles. To ride a horse tveU, is a high ac-
complishment; and wc marked this company
carefully in this respect — they did ride well.
Let them continue to improve as they have done
from the first, and Boston will boast the best
dragoon corps in the Union. The commissioned
officers are Col. Isaac H. Wright, Commander,
J. R. Bryant, 1st Lieut., Samuel W. Clifford, 2d
Lieut., Tlios. H. Ray, 3d Lieut., P. M. Kibbe,
4th Lieut. The dragoons number, we under-
stand, some hundred and fifty active members ;
enough, numerically, to perform the cavalry
movements with fine effect and correctness, as
laid down in tlie service manual ; and their ex-
perienced commander has the tact and talent to
perfect them in the intricate but very interesting
manoeuvres of dragoon tactics, as now estab-
lished in the United States service. Success to
the corps, wc pledge them with all our heart !
APPE.^RANOE OF THE NEW CAVALRY COMPANY, THE UQllX PRAGOONS, OF BOSTONj ON THEIR FIRST UNIFORM PARADE,
242
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A ROMANTIC STOUY OF INCIDENT AND ADVENTURE^
Entci-ed according to Act of Congresa, in tlie year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clcrk'u Ofiico of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[WKITTEN EXVRES8LY FOR aLEABON'S I'lCTOKIAL.]
21 ©rapl)ic Sale of Spain, Italg anii €n2lanlr.
byIfrederick hunter.
[ 0 0 N T I N TJ E D . ]
CHAPTER XVIIL— [continued.]
" /have no secrets," interniplcd Don Miguel,
addressing himself to de Nordo,
tory id no longer a secret in Lyons
' for your hU-
I had sworn
to be avenged upou you, and the hour is come
when your course of infiimy is to be arrested.
Already the cliief of police is informed of the
true character of the self-styled ' Count Anti-
cnne,' and my mission here is but brief. I de-
mand possession of my ward ! And, for you,
traitor that you have proved, I leave you to the
custody of the guard, which, at my instigation,
is at this moment under this roof!"
A shriek of terror and consternation escaped
the lips of the alarmed and innocent wife, at this
fearful announcement, which only preceded the
sound of heavy fjotstcps that could now be
plainly heard in the passage-way.
What was to be done 7 It was a terrible moment
for dc Norde, who saw no opening for escape ;
and, if he did, he believed that his plans had
been laid with such caution that he could not
overtake him, at least when he should be thus
utterly unprepared for the event. It was a des-
perate position for him indeed !
If, in his emergency, he could have disposed
of his wife even, for the time being, he could
perhaps have resorted to some chance effort to
contrive his deliverance from his present dilem-
ma; but, as it was, siie could not ily with him,
and if he left her, he saw that she would be at
liuberto's mercy on the instant. The r/ens d'-
anaes were at that moment approaching his door,
and the clank of their movements fell upon his
senses with stunning effect. He was cornered ;
the chances were all against him ; but his quick
wit suggested a final resort, even as the police
advanced to seize him.
Drawing from his bosom the heavy breast-
pistol, which was his ever constant companion,
he sprang forward, and with a single blow laid
Kuberto senseless at his feet. Then, dashing the
lamp from the table, which was instantly extin-
guished, he assumed the tone and character of
his antagonist, and called lustily to the guard to
advance to his aid, as he seized the arm of his
wife, and advanced to the door.
"Quick!" he shouted, as the guard rushed
into the darkened apartment, "quick ! He has
struck me; secure the villain — quick!"
The oificers approached the prostrate form of
Don Miguel, supposing it to be that of the alleged
outlaw, and while they secured his person, raised
him up, and obtained lights, some two or three
minutes passed away, during which time, de
Norde, with his half-fainting and frightened Cor-
rinne, had disappeared from the hall, and had ac-
tually left the house ! It was a desperate moment,
but the end was not as yet !
Fortunately the darkness of the night favored
the progress of the fugitives. A stray cabriolet
hove in sight as they turned into the second
street, after leaving their lodgings in such hot
haste, and the circumstance was quickly turned
to present advantage. A golden lois d'or was
thrust into the driver's hand, and as Bernard
lifted his wife into the vehicle ho said :
"Haste, garcon ! To the quay. Put your
hor.sc to his best speed, for one hundred frP'--a:s !"
The cab rattled forward — tlie gunrd were left
behind with their prisoner — and in ten minutes
Bernard and his wife stood at the foot of the pier
which shot out into the r'vcr. As the vehicle,
on its return, passed .out of sight above the quay,
a small whci-ry was discovered by de Norde, se-
cured at the capstan of the dock. Into tliis he
placed his wife, and seizing the small oar, he
pushed off, at once, quietly into the stream.
The current was running outward, and he soon
descried a small vessel lying at anchor, hut a few
cables' distance from the shore. He headed for
this craft, forthwith, and in five minutes longer,
he stood upou her low deck. All was as silent
as the gi-ave ! Corrinne spoke not, but clung to
her husband's arm with nervous tenaciousness —
hoping for the best, but fearing the worst of con-
sequences in prospective.
The captain of the little schooner was sleeping
soundly in his berth, and dreaming quietly of
aught but such a visit as this ! when a hand was
placed upon his shoulder, he was aroused from
his slumber, and, by the light of the little hang-
ing-lamp in his cabin, he suddenly found himself
in the presence of a total stranger, who stood
over him with a bag of gold in one hand, and a
very suspicious looking pistol in the other !
CHAPTER XIX.
AN UNANTICIPATED VOYAGE.
As may well be supposed, the master of the
schooner was not a little surprised, and quite as
much tcrritied at this sudden and curious call, at
midnight, and his first impulse, since he was
apparently at the mercy of the man who thus
stood over him, was to cry out for help. On a
second thought, however, considering the singu-
lar manner of liis visitor, he concluded to do no
such foolish thing. His eye fell upon the heavy
purse which de Norde held forth towards him,
and as soon as he could well recover himself,
after the first fright, he concluded to look again
before he made any unnecessary disturbance.
" Arc you not the master of this vessel 1"
asked de Norde, hurriedly.
" Yc — ^ye — s !" muttered the man.
" So I supposed."
" You're not going to kill me at sight, are you
—eh V
" On the contrary, my good fellow, it is for
my best interests that you remain alive. Come,
up with you I"
" Then take away that ugly looking comforter
you have in your right hand."
"Exactly; I will not harm you, be assured.
But, be stirring now. I have a lady upon deck."
"' A woman, too V
"A lady, I said. Here is gold, and I have
more in plenty. I want to use your vessel and
your skill, instantly. Take this purse as an
earnest of my future intentions towards you, if
you do my bidding. Here — it contains an hun-
dred louis d' ors. Come, do not hesitate — time
presses ; I have no leisure for dallying, now."
" Welt, what is your wi.sh, then ?" inquired
the captain of the little vessel, springing out
upon the floor, and securing the bag of gold at
the same time.
"First, that you give up thi^ cabin for the use
of myself and the lady."
" Uho ! I sec, I see ! An alfuir of the — well,
never mind. An elopement isn't very bad —
but — "
" Quick, then, and ask no questions. Call up
your hands and put to sea at once."
" Put to sea 1"
"Instantly."
" And the lady?"
" Is my wife. I am hot pressed, and there is
not a moment to be lost. You have provisions
on board V
" Yes, for a month's voyage."
" And water';"
"Yes."
" Set sail, then, forthwith; and you shall be
hand.<iomely paid for the service," continued de
Norde, in a hurried manner ; and then repairing
to the deck, where his trembling wife awaited
Ids return most impatiently, ho said :
" Dearest Corrinne, wc are safe, once more,
at least from present harm. We shall sail hence
immediately. All is arranged; I find the cap-
tain of this little craft is a reasonable man, and
we shall escape, again, Corrinne; let us retire
below."
There was a hustle about the deck immedi-
ately. All hands had been summoned from be-
low, and, as it chanced, the vessel was a coaster,
in the possession of open "clearance" papers, so
that she could depart from her anchorage when-
ever it pleased her commander, without exciting
suspicion. De Norde handed his wife into the
little cabin, and in a moment more the order was
given to up anchor.
It was II. desperate shift, to be sure ; but de
Norde had but this single chance for escape, un-
der the circumstances. The schooner lay at an-
chor in the stream, fortunately in readiness for
sea, and bound to Marseilles in a day or two.
The wily captain said nothing about this fact,
however, but rather gave de Norde to understand
that he sailed to accommodate him, personally.
At Marseilles, therefore, the schooner put in, for
a few hours, where fresh provisions and water
was taken on board, and where the letters of
credit which the " Count Antienne" possessed
were turned to account for his present purposes.
As the captain was entrusted with the business
of obtaining the money Bernard desired at this
port, he made himself acquainted with his pas-
senger's finances sufficiently to satisfy him that
there would be no further risk of following his
directions. And when he returned on hoard,
finally, having concluded his own business at
Marseilles, he asked de Norde what he desired
further with him and his vessel.
In reply, he was instructed to make the port
of Barcelona, in Spain, as quickly as possible.
This place was well known to de Norde, and he
liad previously placed certain property of some
value in the hands of a friend there, with wdiom
he desired to communicate. The voyage thither
was made in a short space of time, for the
schooner proved a fine sailer, and worked ad-
mirably. From thence the vessel sailed to Car-
thagena, where de Norde halted for two days
only, an-anging his affairs as he went along with
accuracy and despatch. The weather continued
fine, and from Carthagena the little party pro-
ceeded to Gibraltar, from whence de Norde had
resolved to depart in another vessel, direct for
England.
And while our hero and his beautiful young
wife were thus putting a long distance of sea and
land between them and their persecutors, there
were other parties connected with our narrative,
and other scenes enacting, in which we have yet
an interest, and to which we must now return.
The schooner left Carthagena on a bright, clear
morning, with a good crew and a promising
prospect, bound for tlie port of Gibraltar. While
she skims blithely over the waves, before a fresh
north wind, let us go back for a moment to Ly-
ons, and look after Don Miguel Ruberto, whom
we left in custody of the vigilant police of that
renowned city !
It turned out that Ruberto had laid his plans
with precision and good judgment, but he could
not forego the opportunity which he believed the
circumstances of the case afforded him of seeing
de Norde, and of personally denouncing him,
after all the trouble he had had to find him. By
means of the duplicity of one of his own clan,
whom Don Miguel had searched out among the
mountains, be had been able to get a clue to his
whereabouts, and having found him, at last, by
means of his a/m^, the "Count Antienne," he
lost no time in putting the authorities upon his
tracks.
But Fontini — the former master of dc Nordo,
and his original instructor in crime — could not
be content merely with the satisfaction to be de-
rived from seeing the police perform their duty.
He was not satisfied to know that Bernard would
be urrcsted, easily convicted, and condemned to
the galleys for life, probably, but he must meet
him once more, face to face, and let him know
to whom he was indebted for his final arrest !
This was what the old robber gloated over ; and
he would also tear Corrinne from him, in the
midst of his consternation, at the moment when
the soldiery sliould pounce upon him at his hotel.
Such was his plan, and we have already seen
how successful it proved !
The better to enable Iiim to carry out this
sclicmc, he had provided himself with letters of
credit upon the best bankers in Lyons ; and ho
had also brought with him ample credentials of
character from prominent c-itizens at Seville, who
had known him in that neighborhood fur the
previous six years or more. A retaliatory dis-
position on de Norde's part, after his arrest,
would therefore have availed him nothing. Suf-
ficient evidence had been prepared by Don Mig-
uel to fix a hundred crimes upon him ; and, had
he left the authorities to do their duty unmo-
lested, he might have triumphed. As it was, his
antagonist was more than an even match for
him.
The reader will remember that we left Don
Miguel in the dark, surrounded by half a score
of gens d'armes, in the apartment from which dc
Norde so singularly made his last escape. In
the confusion which ensued, the soldiers rushed
in and secured the man they chanced to find
there ! They were completely deceived by the
assumed voice and manner of Bernard ; and, as
it had been arranged l>ctween the guard and Don
Miguel, that at the moment of dc Norde's pro-
posed arrest, the old Spaniard should secure the
person of the young lady whom he claimed as
his legal ward, they were thrown entirely oft"
their guard for the moment, as they supposed
that Ruberto had taken possession of Corrinne
as they entered the room, and that all, of course,
was proceeding just as had been previously
agreed upon. " Seize him ! secure your pris-
oner !" shouted do Norde, as he rushed by them
with his wife. And they did secure the man
who lay stunned upon the floor.
Lights were procured, and after a few minutes
delay, Don Miguel came to himself, and the un-
lucky rwse was discovered. Ruberto swore, and
charged the guard with conniving with the scoun-
drel to escape I The officer of the guard retali-
ated, and threatened the Spaniard with arrest,
unless he kept a civil tongue in his head. In
the meantime de Norde and his wife were in-
creasing the distance and chances of recovery
between them and their pursuers.
The hotel was quickly ransacked by the police,
and within half an hour spies were sent out in
every direction in search of the " Count An-
tienne" and his companion. In vain was inqui-
ry, in vain did the patrol turn corner after corner,
and put question after question to all whom they
chanced to meet. The lucky pair had been seen
by no one, and tlieir retreat was perfectly suc-
cessful. Don Miguel was in a deadly rage, but
he could not find the object upon which he de-
sired to wreak his vengeance. Bernard de
Norde, with his loved Corrinne, were far beyond
the reach of /i/s arm, or his influence, and the
lovers were now congratulating each other upon
their peculiar good fortune, as the frowning rock
of Gibraltar hove in sight from the deck of their
staunch and well managed little schooner !
Don Miguel left Lyons as he came, therefore.
The circumstance of de Norde's escape filled the
newspapers for a week, but with the Spaniard's
departure, the fact ■wa.s forgotten. He repaired
to his residence near Seville, and as soon as his
new dwelling was completed, he once more sat
down to enjoy the luxuries of life which were
still left him ; for, notwithstanding his disasters,
he had yet a goodly amount of means at his
command.
The schooner reached Gibraltar in good time,
safely, and de Norde having paid the captain
roundly for his trouble and faithfulness, took
lodgings at a retired hotel, for a few days, in-
tending, as soon as Corrinne should recover
from the fatigue and effects of the vo'yage, to
quit the continent and repair to England, wly'r*'
it was their purpose permanently to reside. '
While tarrying at Gibraltar, the welcome \ rs
reached de Norde that a full and free pardon had
been granted by the Portuguese and Spanish
governments to all the clans of bandits and brig-
ands who had infested the mountains, on condi-
tion that they laid down their arms and dispersed.
This intelligence was of the most gratifying char-
acter to Bernard, who had been one of the most
prominent of the oficndcrs ; and he gladly availed
himself of tlie opiiortunity thus aflbrded to free
himself from future legal proceedings and
jeopardy.
This news, therefore, changed ItttJ purpose of
quitting Spain, at least temporarily. He too"
measures to communicate with his late followers
and the authorities, also ; and his sojourn at Gib-
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DE.AWING ROOM COMPANION.
243
raltar wiis consequently extended beyond the
period he had originally intended.
Don Miguel did not forget the purpose he had
had nearest his heart so long, however. He re-
turned to his haeienda, but still determined,
sooner or later, to obtain satisfaction from the
man wbo he conceived had so deeply wronged
him. How he finally succeeded in his purpose,
and what was the fate of our characters, subse-
quently, we will inform the reader in our suc-
ceeding chapters.
CHAPTER XX.
THE MAGICIAN — A FEARFUL RIDE.
As soon as the news had been circulated
among the community of peasants who inhabited
the borders of the infested districts, for their o^vn
future peace and comfort they took early meas-
ures to communicate the fact to the bands that
were located about them, that they might avail
themselves of the olfer of pardon, and retire from
their unlawful pursuits.
The news was generally receive d by the rob
bers with gratitude, and a very large portion of
the clans were very soon broken up. Those
who were sufficiently hardened, and reckless
enough to refuse to accept tlic proffered lenity of
the governments) however, were hunted down,
at last; and, within a year's time, the mountains
were ridded of the pests that had for a long pe-
riod previously occupied their caves and passes,
to the imminent peril of the residents near by, as
well of the travelling community in the region.
The mansion of Don Miguel was finished at
last, and a very showy and elegant one it was,
too. The ancient robber's taste was good, and
he did not spare expense, for he had ample
means, notwithstanding his reverses, and the
dwelling which replaced the original was in every
respect superior to that which had been sacked
and destroyed. As soon as it was complete, he
left it in charge of his secretary and the house-
keepers, and departed in search of de Norde,
whom he still hoped to punish for having over-
reached him — an error ho could not forget, nor
forgive; and besides this, he had a further de-
sign, to wit, the abduction, or the an-est, of Cor-
rinne, whom he still loved, and who he believed
was not the wife of his adversary.
On his journey from Gibraltar to Malaga, de
Norde halted at the town of Marabella for a
week or two, to await the arrival of some chests
which he had stored at another point, in charge
of an old friend, with whom he had lately com-
municated, and who had shipped the articles to
the address of " Signer Bleitzer," at Malaga,
agx'ceably to Bernard's order.
These boxes contained the gorgeous parapher-
nalia, the wardrobe, and tlie superb appointments
that de Norde made use of at his magical exhi-
bitions, and wliich were now about to be brought
into requisition — for his means were not over-
ample, his expenses and losses had been very
large, during the past few montlis, and upon his
leaving the band over which he presided, he left
behind him the great bulk of what of right be-
longed to him as " captain," but which, at Cor-
rinne's solicitation, he did not take away with
him. With his elegant wardrobe and fixtures,
and his still unimpaired tact and knowledge of
legerdemain, the road to fortune was open to him
by an honorable route, and he resolved to pursue
it and trust to his accomplishments for future
success in his career.
This determination was suggested by his lovely
and devoted wife, who was overjoyed when de
Norde informed her tiiat a free pardon had lieen
granted to himself and his anforlunate compan-
ions, and that from that time forward he should
pursue his profession as a means of obtaining a
livelihood. The chests reached Malaga safely
and seasonabh'', and de Norde proceeded for-
w. at once, accompanied by his wife, to the
lat place, where he proposed to give a series
of c.viiil>itions in the " magic art."
His entertainments were highly successful,
subsequently, and he had finished his engage-
ments in Malaga about the time that Don Mig-
uel got ready to leave Seville. The old Span-
iard entered a coffee-room, after a visit to his
banker, just before starting from home, and tak-
ing up a paper, his eye suddenly fell upon a
paragraph which contained an unusual amount
of interest for him- under the circumstances. He
slowly read it as follows :
■ " A Kema^-icable Man. — We have been high-
vigratified wita the unique and artistic exhibi-
^ons of Signor Blcitiier, who has delighted our
citizens during the fortnight past, with his elegant
entertainments in the art marjique, in which he
may be pronounced a most accomplished pro-
fessor, without show of flattery. His necroman-
cy, his sleight of hand, his jugglery, and his va-
rious optical deceptions — all are of the most ex-
traordinary character; and, in our very limited
experience, we have never met the man who
could approach him in neatness of execution, or
who could at all compare with him at successful
experiment in the black art. He is certainly a
most singularly foitunate person in these re-
spects, and his success elsewhere cannot but be
sure, wherever rare talent can be appreciated.
He goes hence to Almeira, we learn, and will
shortly leave Spain for England, on a profes-
sional visit. Signor Bleitzer is really an extra-
ordinary man."
" So he is !" exclaimed Huberto, as he laid
aside the journal from which he had so unex-
pectedly obtained the very information he most
desired, and wliich he was at that very moment
on the eve of leaving Seville to obtain, in a
very diiferent character. "Tes, he is an extra-
ordinary being, to be sure ! But, unless For-
tune greatly abuses me, I think, this time I shall
make sure of ray prey. To Almeira, eh ? Well,
let us see. That is near the coast. He will not
be there long, and he is about to quit Spain for
his Majesty's dominion across the water. We
shall see about that ! We shall see. Perha]>s
he wont go — maybe he'll be detained ! We
shall see :" and with those conflicting self assur-
ances, Don Miguel Rubcrto left the cnfe, and
prepared, forthwith, to visit the tovm of Al-
meira, to confront and punish his former lieu-
tenant.
In the meantime, de Norde was pursuing the
even tenor of his way."^ He was aware that a
pardon had been proclaimed by the authorities
of the two governments for him and his follow-
ers, and he felt safe from trouble on that score.
He gave his entertainments, therefore, under the
nome de gueire of " Signor Bleitzer," as he had
previously done, and quietly pocketing his ra-
pidly accumulating income, he was preparing to
bid adieu to Spain, when Don Miguel, after
reading the account we have quoted, left Seville
and arrived in Almeira.
Amidst all his shiftings, and changes, and ad-
ventures, de Norde had constantly retained
nominal possession of his f;tvorite black mare,
"Peri." When he absented himself from the
country he always placed her in charge of a
faithful person, who provided for her, and who
took a pride in preserving her in fine condition
constantly, against the hour when her master
might, at any time, send for her. This was a
noble beast, and next to his wife, de Norde loved
his matchless " Peri."
Few men in Europe could manage a horse,
or ride one, with a better grace than Bernard de
Norde ; and this was a favorite exercise with
him, for his wife was a magnificent horse-woman,
as well. Their excursions into the suburbs, on
all convenient occasions, therefore, on horse-
back, were frequent, and proved a very delight-
ful and healthy pastime. They were entering
Almeira one evening, just at dusk, riding slowly
along, when the palfrey upon which Corrinne
was seated became suddenly alarmed at some
object on the roadside, and bolted unexpectedly.
In her sudden attempt to recover the bit and
bring her horse into hand again, the girtli of her
saddle slipt, and the lady instantly sprang to the
ground, to save herself. De Norde was at her
side immediately, and the saddle straps were at
once tightened, and she sprang lightly into her
seat again, as her pony timied about and started
off" at a gallop. As de Norde wheeled to mount
his mare he felt a sharp blow at the back of his
head, from whence, or by whom, he had no
idea, and as he fell senseless at the side of the
road, a stranger jumped over his prostrate body
into his saddle, and the mare dashed away furi-
ously upon the track of Corrinne.
It was two or three minutes before Corrinne
could draw up her palfrey, wdiich had been
frightened by the sudden appearance of a man's
form which protruded fioin the side of the road,
and which neither de Norde nor his wife had ob-
served. That intruder was Don Miguel Ku-
berto ! who had just reached Almeira, and hav-
ing learned the temporary whereabouts of those
he sought, determined to wait upon them at
once, and make the most of the advantages
which might ensue in his favor, under the cir-
cumstances.
De Norde was unsuspicious, and at this mo-
ment, was totally unprepared for an assault
which he had no reason whatever to anticipate.
He was stunned by the blow he had received,
and he still lay unconscious of anything when
the stranger rider overtook Corrinne. Evening
had set in, and it was very nearly dark when
the well known Peri dashed up to her side, and
she noticed that her rider (whom she mistook
for her husband) seized upon her pony's bit.
She shouted at this act, which she supposed
was to aid her, and said ;
" Do not touch him, Bernard ; he is behaving
very well ; I am quite safe : do not check him
thus ■"
" Coninne Almanza !" said a familiar voice,
which penetrated to her very heart, "halt, Cor-
rinne, and listen to my words !"
Paralyzed with terror, shocked at the sudden
appearance of her guardian, Don Miguel, and
deeply alarmed for her absent husband, poor
Corrinne could not speak for a moment ! She
looked back, then at her guardian, then at Peri,
and thus she shrieked ;
" Bernard ! Bernard ! De Norde, my hus-
band ! Where is he ?" she exclaimed, wildly,
and with dreadful emphasis.
" Hear me, Corrinne," said Don Miguel, as
he clenched her palfrey's bit firmly, " you have
escaped me thrice; you cannot do it again. 1
have staked my all of hope and revenge upon
this moment "
" Don Miguel, tell me, is he hurt V
" Forward, Corrinne ! You must accompany
me, now ! De Norde will not molest us at pres-
scnt, be sure of it ! Forward, I say !" and the
Spaniard drove his rowels into Perl's sides,
while he still clutched the bit of Corrinne's
pony with an iron gripe, and away dashed the
horses side by side, the unfortunate wife scarcely
realizing where she was, or what she was doing,
amid her terror and excitement !
[concluded next week.]
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial,]
OCTOBER,
BY MRS. M. W. CDRTIS.
Autumn wimls ate sighing,
Through the forest lone ;
Summer flowers are dying,
Sommer days are gone.
Forest leaves are falling,
Withered to the ground ;
Many hearts appalling
With the lonely sound.
Gone the merry birdlingg,
To a fairer clime;
Chilling are the breezes,
Gone is sunmier time.
Welcome is the fire glow,
By our own hearthstone ;
llappy whilt the hours flow,
Though the summer "s gone.
possr!:ssioN.
Possession, like all earthly blessings, canies
witlnn it its own principle of corrustion. The
deadliest foe to love is not change, nor misfor-
tune, nor wrath, nor anything that flows from
passion, or emanates from fortune ; the deadliest
foe to it is custom ! With custom die away the
delusions and the mysteries whicli encircle it.
'With all passion, the sonl demands something
unexpressed, some vague recess to explore or to
marvel upon. Custom leaves nothing to ro-
mance, and often but little respect. Tlie whole
character is bared before us like a plain, and the
heart's eye grows wearied with the sameness of
the survey. And to weariness succeeds distaste,
and to distaste one of the myriad shapes of the
Proteus — aversion; so that the passion we would
make the rarest of treasures, fritters down to a
very instance of the commonest of proverbs ;
and ** out of the familiarity cometh, indeed, con-
tempt."— Bulwer.
THE PIRAKHA.
This fish, which contends for the dominion of
the Brazilian portion of South America, is one
of terrible voracity : there is hardly any animal
that ventures into the water but that suffers from
its attacks. The victim of the piranha is gener-
ally surrounded by large shoals or swarms of
them ; they may be justly compared to a nest of
water hornets. Horses and cattle do not ven-
ture to drink of til e water below the surface, lest
their snout should be bitten off" — an accident
which, however, sometimes befalls them. The
cajman himself is forced to fly before this ter-
rible enemy, and turns his unprotected belly to-
wards the top of the water ; the otter alone,
whose hairy skin deadens the force of the bite, is
proof against their attacks. — ^yilson.
[Written for Gleason's Pit-torial.]
I DO MOT ASK FOR FAZIIE NOR WEALTH.
Ur Bins. R. T. ELDREDGE.
I do not ask for fame nor wealth,
To shine ^nthin our home ;
Nay, all I ask is pcice and hca.lth,
Thy love, and thine alone ;
For, blest with that, my Ufe will he
From dark, despairing shadows free.
And should it ever be my lot,
To toil with thee for bread ;
BiL'st \nth thy love, I'U heed it not,
Life's paths with thee I '11 tread ;
Though rough and thorny they may be,
When by thy side, they 're smooth to me.
What can I ask for more on earth,
Thy heart is wholly mine ;
And dearly do I prize its worth,
For wealth [ never pine ;
0 may my love be prized by Ihee,
As dear as thine is prized by me 1
RISING IN THE WORLD.
Ton should bear constantly in mind that nine
tenths of us are, from the very nature and neces-
sities of the world, born to gain our livehbood
l)y the sweat of the brow. Wliat reason have
we, then, to presume that our children are not
to do the same ? If they be, as now and then
one will be, endowed with extraordinary powers
of mind, those extraordinary powers of mind
may have an opportunity of developing tliem-
selves ; and, if they never have that opportunity,
the harm is not very great to us or to them.
Nor does it hence follow that the descendants of
laborers are always to be laborers. The path
upward is steep and long, to be sure. Industry,
care, skill, excellence in the present parent, lay
the foundation of a rise, under more favorable
circumstances, for the children. The children
of these take another rise ; and, by-and-by, the
descendants of the present laborer become gen-
tlemen. This is the natural progress. It is by
attempting to reach the top at a single leap that
so much misery is produced in the world. So-
ciety may aid in making the laborers virtuous
and happy, by bringing children up to labor with
steadiness, with care, and with skill; to show
them how to do as many useful things as possi-
ble; to do them all in the best manner; to set
them an example in industry; sobriety, cleanli-
ness and neatness ; to make all these habitual to
them, so that they never shall be liable to fall
into the contrary ; to let them always see a good
living proceeding from labor, and thus to remove
from them the temptation to get at the goods of
others l»y violent and fraudulent means, and to
keep far from their minds all the inducements to
hypocrisy and deceit. — Cobbeft.
LAST WORDS.
There is often a significance in the last words
ofa great man — a correspondence between his
death and the tenor of his life — expressions
which furnish to us a new and correct index to
his character, and then they are well worth re-
cording. Tlie world, then, presents, generally,
little temptation for dissimulation or pretence;
and his vanities and afi'ectations are laid aside ;
so that then, if ever, we may see the man as he
is. And it would he strange if it were not so.
When tiie thread of life is snapped, why should
the end differ from the remaining parf?
The common anecdotes of the closing scenes
of the lives of great men, whether authentic or
not, frequently show the truth of this. When
Montesquieu was asked if he were truly sensible
of the greatness of God, " Tes," answered the
dying philosopher, " and of the littleness of
man." Goethe, the never satisfied student of
truth in all its forms, asked only for "Light !"
Cromwell, the fanatical religionist and stubborn
soldier, begged to know if the elect would ever fall.
"Never!" said his spiritual adviser. "Then I
am safe," said he, " for I am sure I was once in
a state of grace." When Napoleon came to
die, so many years after his turbulent and de-
structive career bad closed, that it must have
been to him indistinct as a dream — his mind
wandered to the scenes of his former triumphs ;
and those who stood round his death-bed heard
him murmuring : " Tete d'armee!" — To-Day.
Those who have become addicted to evil hab-
its, must conquer thtm as they can — and they
must be confjuered, or they will conquer us, and
destroy our peace and happiness. And those
who have not yet yielded to bad habits, must be
on their guard lest they be unexpectedly assault-
ed and subdued.
OUR "BETTERS."
Very comfortable lives are led by the majority
of them, and hence "things as they are "find
favor in their eyes. For their tastes — they are
shown in the subordination of national business
to the shooting of grouse and the chasing of
foxes. For their pride — it is in wide estates or
long pedigrees ; and should the family coat-of-
arms bear some such ancient motto as " Strike
hard," or " Furth fortune, and fill the fetters,"
it is a great happiness. As to their ideal of so-
ciety, it is eitlier a sentimental feudalism, or it
is a state something like the present, under which
the people shall be respectful to their betters,
and " content with that station of life which it
has pleased God to call them ;" or it is a state
arrar^ed with the view of making each laborer
the most efficient producing tool, to the end that
the accumulation of wealth may be the greatest
possible. — Social Statics.
Sweet arc the nee^■of adversity,
Which, like a toad, ugly and venomoue,
Wears yet a precioun jewe^ in his head.
S'uiispeare.
244
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM (!()]MPANI()N.
A PAR8EE LADY.
I nskcd her how the hnirwas
disposed of with iheni ! Where-
upon, merrily, she threw hack
hor saree, and the disli^'urin^
kind of handa^e whitli con-
cealed the forehead and Iiead,
and shaking; down a (]UiHi(iiy
of hliiek, silky hair, her eyiK
sparkling; with animation, she
really looked so heiiuiiliil, that
I eould not refrain from loudly
cxehiiming at^ainst the harha-
rous style of eosiume wlueh
thus transformed a pcrfeet houri
intoabanduffed Ejiyptian mum-
my. Another personal disfig-
urement they very ingeniously
contrive, by perforating eom-
pletely their small, delieately
formed cars all round, inserting
such heavy pendants that the
shape beeomes distorted with
increasing years, and the ap-
pearance of the feature is so
unnatural that I was glad to
sec the saree drawn over it.
All these ladies were of small
stature, with slight and graceful
figures, regular features, and a
pale olive complexion, which
ill their estimation is the highest
attribute of heauty. My soci-
able friend pointed out to me a
little girl of about nine years of
age, who, she said, was so strik-
ingly fair that her hand had
been eagerly sought in marriage
by sei^eral before she attained
her fourth year. She had been
now for some time betrothed to
the son of a wealthy Parsee ;
and when of sufficient age to be separated from
her mother, she was to take up hei- abode in the
family of her future husliand. She was a sweet,
gentle little creature, with an expression of mel-
ancholy in her soft, gazelle-like eyes ; and, judg-
ing from the mother's constant caresses and
looks of love bestowed upon her child, I could
well imagine how heavily the thought of ap-
proaching separation must press on both their
hearts. X was delighted to see some specimens
of needlework strewed about the room, such as
canvass-work and embroidery; and, upon in-
quiring how they had learnt these arts, 1 was
informed that an Engltsli missionary lady had
lately given them some instruction in the use of
the needle ; and that the father was so astonished
at their progress, that he talked of allowing
them to learn the piano forte, and had actually
provided a magnificent instrument in anticipa-
tion. I begged to see it, and never shall I for-
get their delight as I ran my fingers over the
notes. The entire female household, including
the servant, gathered round me, clapping their
hands as I played a few lively airs ; and when at
length I rose to depart they all loudly entreated
me to come soon again, and stay the whole day
with them. Their only recreation appeared to
consist in giving occasional parties to the ladies
of their acquaintance, and making a grand dis-
play of silken sarees and jewels. — Life in Bombay.
INlLiUUK VIEW Oi! L S DiUGGbb L\CL \ND bUJSNbT STOKE, NO S li AND JO HANOVER STREET, CObTON
DRIGGS'S LACE AND BONNET STORE.
Above we give the reader an interior view
of one of our large and elegant dry goods estab-
lishments, situated at Nos. 24 and 26 Hanover
street. This street is fast growing to be one of
the most frequented thoroughfares in the city
for " shopping " purposes by tiie ladies. In this
respect there has been a very decided change in
this neighborhood within a few years past. At
the mammoth establishment represented above,
ma}' be found the finest of French, German,
Swiss, Scotch and American goods ever offered
to the public. Mr. Driggs imports his goods di-
rect by every steamer from Europe, and there-
fore can always serve his customers with the
latest styles and fashions generally. In the rear
of the room which is here represented, is situated
the manufacturing room, where some forty or
fifty girls are constantly employed. Dress bon-
nets and caps are the principal articles of manu-
facture here, and these articles are made in tlie
highest state of finish, and for all prices from a
shilling up to thirtij doUars. Mr. Driggs operates
upon what is called the low price system — small
profits and large sales — and isdoinga very large
and excellent business, as we are pleased to learn.
Boston is fast being filled with these elegant
business establishments, and we certainly rejoice
to see such substantial evidence of her growing
wealth and prosperity.
SUCCESS IN LIFE.
In no department of life do men rise to emi-
nence who have not undergone a long and dili-
gent preparation ; for, whatever be the dilference
in the mental powers of individuals, it is the cul-
tivation of the mind alone that leads to dis-
tinction. John Hunter was as remarkable for
his industry as for his talents, of which his mu-
seum alone forms a most extraordinary proof.
If we look around and contemplate the history
of those men whose talents and acquirements we
most esteem, we find that their superiority of
knowledge has been the result of great labor and
diligence. It is an ill founded notion to say that
merit in the long run is neglected. It is some-
times joined to circumstances that may a little
influence in counteracting it, as an unfortunate
manner and temper ; but it generally meets with
its due reward. The world are not fools — every
person of merit has the best chance of success;
and who would be ambitious of public approba-
tion, if it had not the power of discriminating^
By a kind of natural law, people usually find
the exact niche in the social fabric designed by
Providence. Energy and perseverance are the
handmaids of success, and the individual who
possesses these requisites has usually the guar-
antee of triumph, whatever opposing obstacles
may seem to rise to thwart his purposes. — Physic
and Physicians.
08TEND.
Ostcnd, a fine view of which
is given below, is a fortified sea-
port town of Belgium, province
of West Flanders, capiial of the
canton, on the shore of the
North Sea, 14 miles west by
north of Bruges, 27 miles cast
north-east of Dunkirk, and GO
miles east the North Foreland.
Lat. 51 14 north, Ion. 2 5.') cast.
Population about 1.3,OU0. Few
foreign travellers speak in fa-
vorable terms of Ostend. It is,
however, neatly and regularly
built, and has a lively apjjcar-
ance, the houses being painted
of different colors. It is also a
favorable watering place of the
Belgians, and is occasionally
resorted to by the royal family.
It has no public edifice worth
notice, except a good bathing-
house, with reading-rooms, etc.,
on the levm^ a sloping glacis of
stone-walk, originally erected to
serve as a dyke, having on its
summit a favorite promenade.
Ostend is strongly fortified by
ramparts, a broad ditch, and a
citadel ; but it is ill supplied
with water, which is assigned
as a reason for its being in parts
rather dirty. The interior har-
bor, which is large and commo-
dious, is bordered by a broad
quay ; but ships of considerable
burden can only enter the port
at high water, and in strong ofi^-
shore winds is diflicult of ac-
cess. There are two lightliousea
which, when brought in line,
mark the channel that leads into the port. The
exports consist of corn, clover seed, cattle, and
other farm produce ; and the imports of sugar,
coffee, and other colonial products, wines, spices,
manufactured goods, etc. The cod and herring
fisheries, especially the former, are carried on to
a considerable extent from Ostend, Some few
years since the produce of this fishery amounted
to 8799 tons salt fish. The aggregate value of
the imports by sea, amounts to considerably more
than 10,000,0*00 francs. Exclusive of its trade,
Ostend has some sugar and salt refineries, and
sailcloth, soap, tobacco, and other factories, with
ropewalks, building docks, distilleries, etc. It is
connected by a canal and railroad with Bruges,
and by the great Belgian railroad with Antwerp
and other cities of the interior. It is the seat of
a tribunal and chamber of commerce, and the
residence of a military commandant and of for-
eign consuls. During the ever- memorable strug-
gle made by the Dutch to emancipate themselves
from the blind and brutal despotism of Old
Spain, Ostend sustained one of the most celebra^
ted sieges of which history has preserved any ac-
count. It continued from the 4th of July, 1601,
to the 28th of September, 1604, when the garri-
son capitulated, on honorable terms, to the ablest
of the Spanish leaders, the famous Marquis of
Spinola. This siege is supposed to have cost
the contending parties the lives of 100,000 men !
Sit ^ ^i©^S^.ttii
yiEW OP OSTEND, THE ''kKY" OS OONTINENrAL EUROPE.
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING EOOM COMPANION.
245
PROME, SKETCHED FROM THE IRAWADDY.
BURMESE SCENES.
Upon this page we give two views of Burmese
towns and Fcenery. The first shows Prome
sketched from the Irawaddy ; the distant moun-
tains are crested with pairodas ; the extreme
mountains are some fifteen miles distant. The
heijrhts above Prome are stockaded by the Bur-
mese. In tlie front of the view is seen a curious
looking specimen of nautical ingenuity in the
shap<? of a Burmese boat. Prome is the most
important place on the Irawaddy, between its
mouth and Rangoon, the Burmese capital and
chief place of trade. It is a very thriving town,
and has some 10,000 inhabitants. Yenbenzeik,
is seen in the fine sketch which wc also give be-
low, with its richly wooded hills, crested with
pagodas, the point in the extreme distance being
seen from Prome. But little is known of this
place ; the scenery about it is imposing, and the
representation we give is a fair specimen of na-
ture's variety in the East. We may as well al-
hide to the principal of tlie Burmese ports in this
connection, and give our readers, as far as our
limits will allow, some notices of Rangoon,
which is situated in lat. 16 deg. 40 min., north,
long. 96 deg. 25 min., east, on one of the many
branches of the great Irawaddy, at a distance of
about twenty-five miles from the sea. The river
is many mites wide at its mouth, and opposite
the town is about a mile broad ; it is navigable
for ships of large tonnage, which find excellent
anchorage while loading. Rangoon is the great
port of the Pegu coast, and is the outlet for the
fine teak timber grown in the upper provinces,
and for cutch, seeds, etc., which are brought
down by native boats, and find a market among
the Rangoon merchants, who, with two excep-
tions, are Armenians and Moguls. The town
suffered severely by fire in December, 1850,
when nearly the whole of it was burned to the
ground. The houses are built of teak and bam-
boo, with thatched roofs ; and when a fire breaks
out, it is only by pulling down many of these
erections, and breaking off communication, that
it can be arrested, the materials being very dry
from exposure to a tropical sun. Since the foreign
inhabitants left in January last, the goveraor
has purposely destroyed the town again, and it
is believed has defended its site with stockades
along its front. The principal building was the
custom-house, a large open shed, about as re-
spectable in appearance as a common cow-house,
and would strike with surprise those who draw
their notions of " custom-houses " in general
from the princely edifices of our commercial
cities. According to Mr. Malcom, who visited
Rangoon in 1835, '* the city is spread upon part
of a vast meadow, but little above high tides,
and resembling a neglected swamp. The fortifi-
cations are of no avail against modern modes of
attack. They consist of merely a row of wooden
timbers set in the ground, rising to the heiglit of
about eighteen feet, with a narrow platform run-
ning round inside for musketeers, and a few can-
non lying at the gateways in a useless condition.
The eaves of the houses generally descend to
within six or eight feet of the ground ; very fe\y
being of more than one story, or having any
other covering than thatch. Cellars are un-
known, and all the houses are raised two or
three feet above the ground, for coolness and
ventilation. As the floors are of split bamboo,
all dirt falls through ; and what is not picked up
by crows, dogs, fowls, etc., is occasionally swept
out and burned. The streets are narrow, and
paved with half-burned bricks, which, as wheel
carriages are not allowed in the city, are in tol-
erable repair. There is neither wharf nor quay
— at four or five places are wooden stairs, at
which small boats mav laud passengers; but
even these do not extend to within twenty feet
of low water mark. Vessels lie in the stream,
and discharge into boats, from which the pack-
ages, slung to a bamboo, are lugged on men's
shoulders to the custom-house. About two miles
from Rangoon, is the celebrated Shoe-Dragon
Temple, which is highly ornamented. The two
principal roads leading to it are lined on either
side with numerous pagodas, some of consider-
able size. The great temple stands on a planted
terrace, raised upon a rocky eminence, and
reached by an ascent of 100 stone steps. The
area of this terrace is about two acres ; tlie tem-
ple at its base is 310 feet in diameter, and 338
feet in height, surmounted by a tee, or umbrella
of open iron work, forty-five feet in height, and
richly gilt. The golden temple of the idol may
challenge competition, in point of beauty, with
any other of its class in India. The building is
composed entirely of teak wood, and indefati-
gable pains are displayed in the profusion of rich
carved work which adorns it. The whole is one
mass of the richest gilding, with the exception
of the three roofs, which have a silvery appear-
ance. A plank of a deep red color separates
the gold and silver, which has a happy effect in
relieving them. This temple is resorted to by
numerous devotees.
YENBENZEIK, AS SEEN FROM PROME.
246
GLEASON'S nCTOHTAL DRAWING r.OOM COMPANION.
[\VriUeii for (JIchwoii'k PIctoriiU.]
AJDDJIKSS TO TIIK MUSK.
BY MlStt MAllV N. DUAIIIIOHN.
CeloHtiul MiiHC ! my verso Indite,
And tunc my iint:i.u;;lit lyro ;
With holy, siicrod, living lov«,
My curly Hong iiiHjfiru.
Cilvo mo u s])ui'k of that ^Thie)l biiniB
III thy iiiimoi'tiil breast ;
TliMi 8hull my spirit loikrii to chant
Thu chorus of thu blust.
Aw!iU«n ilII my drowsy thoughts,
And give tht-m strength to sorir
Fur from this duat and drosa of earth,
To miiiglo with the puro.
To join with that enraptured host,
Who strike their barpu above ;
Wliosu every line iloth tell of peace,
Auduuivertial love.
I fain would seek that " better land,''
Where hiating pleasures reign ;
l''or they eternal love eiball find,
Who may that country gJi'io.
[Translated from the German for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE MAGIC RING.
BY MISS ANNE T. WILBUR.
It is well known that every morning at eight
o'clock, during the annual exhibition of pictures
at Paris, those persons who have courage to rise
early enough, arc admitted by tickets to the
Louvre. It is an innocent privilege which is
refused to no one, and of which all arc eager to
avail themselves, precisely because it is a privi-
lege.
Now, the first time during the season, in which
this favor could be enjoyed, a young man, who
might be easily recognized as a foreigner by the
peculiar fashion of his garments, his long and
blonde hair, and the light beard on his chin, was
carelessly strolling along the Place du Louvre,
which he was traversing in its whole extent.
He had exhausted every possible means of di-
verting liimself while awaiting the moment of
entering the galleries of the Louvre; and, it
must be confessed, that what made the delay
seem so long, and this moment so impatiently
expected, was less the desire of visiting the pic-
tures, than the necessity of escaping from the
cold, which was purpling his face. For the poor
young man was shivering beneath a great coat,
neat, but thread-bare ; and Iiowever carefully he
buried his hands in tlic pockets of the pantaloons,
which enshrouded his elegant form, he could not
prevent their being nipped with the frost.
Without a shelter, witliout resources, robbed
the night before of the little purse which had
contained all his slender fortune, he had been
obliged to pass the night on tlie stone bencli of
the neighboring hotel, — a night cold and almost
endless. Judge then of his joy when day ap-
peared, and especially when the door of the Lou-
vx*e, not of the ground entrance, but a little mys-
terious door at the side, opened. The young
man immediately entered, hastily ])laced before
the eyes of the concierge a card bearing the name
of Frederic , cleared four steps at a time of
an obscure staii'way, and entered the gallery of
paintings.
His first look was for his own picture, that
work so long dreamed of, so long caressed, and
in the execution of which he had, without hesita-
tion, sacriliced all his resources. Then, when,
after long months of labor and study, he had
succeeded in re-producing on canvass the lumi-
nous and brilliant ideas which had originated in
his young German head, art did not satisfy him ;
he coveted fame. Paris, its celebrated exhibi-
tion, this was what he desired with all the facul-
ties of his soul, and had succeeded in attaining
at the price of many sacrifices. As a hist resort,
he had sold a few jewels, the only inheritance re-
ceived from his poor mother, rolled up his can-
vass, placed it on his shoulders, and started,
alone and on foot, without a friend to accompa-
ny him on the way, or a voice to say, " Adieu !"
And yet he left in the city a young and laugh-
ing girl, whose features he had more than once
Kicalthily copied ; whose liglU and rapid step he
liad more than once followed afar ofi". But ho
had never dared speak to her; for, in Germany
as well as in France, poor unknown artists dare
not speak to young girls who arc rich and of
high birth. One needs fortune or fame to ensure
a smiling and welcome reception ; and ])oor
Frederic, for want of fortune, had coveted fame;
for ibis he hud painted Iiis i)i';ture, kit Germany,
and come to Paris, where he found himself with-
out resources, without :i shcltcT, without bread.
While he j^tood tlicre, stid and dreamy, evok-
ing all the memories of his life, the crowd by de-
grcis arrived, and grouped ihcmsclvcs in tui'ii
before the /ifirhcl of Lcchmaini, that aH'ccting
page of the Bible, before the picturesque scene
wherein Clement Bolangcr bus unfolded in its
whole length a Houcnncsc procession, or before
tlie pictures of Biard, now grave, now amusing.
Frederic hastily left the saloon ; for the timid
artist feared lest the hitter criticisms or scorn
of the visitors for bin work should take away
his last illusion, deprived of which he must die,
his slender faitli in his own talents. He went
to take refuge in the gallery of antiquities ;
there, exliaustcd by the fatigues and cold of the
night, with his brain disturbed by hunger and
anxiety, he sat down on a I>ench placed against
one of those glass cases which contain Egyptian
antiquities, and began to look, without seeing
them, at the curious oltjects displayed around
him. By degrees his eyelids closed; his head
drooped on his breast, and lie fell into a troubled
sleep, which did not prevent his hearing the slow
and grave step of a guard, who was solemnly
promenading the vast galleries.
Frederic, without perceiving it, had rested his
elbow on the glass which covered the case be-
hind him. Suddenly he felt this glass give way
beneath the weight pressing upon it, and break.
Judge of the terror of the young man, now sud-
denly aroused. The guard would soon perceive
the accident, and come to demand the value of
the broken glass, perhaps see in it an attempt at
theft. And Frederic no longer has even the
sliglit sum necessary to pay this expense. What
shall he do, what will bqcome of him 1 While
he was tormenting himself Avith such thoughts,
the i)oor young German feigned to be asleep and
dared not move his arm, although he felt a vio-
lent pain in his elbow, caused by a bit of glass,
or contact with some sharp object.
" If some miracle does not extricate me from
this difiiculty," said he, "I am rained ! 0, why
am I not the possessor of a talisman, which
would give me the power to banish from this
saloon the formidable guard, who has, perhaps,
already seen me?"
He had scarcely formed this desire when he
heard the steps of the guard become fainter, and
at last entirely die away in the distance. Fred-
eric opened his eyes. 0, happiness! he alone
remained in the saloon. To rise and hasten ra-
pidly into the picture gallery, that he might lose
himself in the crowd, was for him but the affair
of a moment.
There, surprised at his good fortune, out of
breath, exhausted, he began to look at his own
picture, before which a numerous group was
collected.
" O," said Frederic, "if the misfortune which
has pursued me would at last cease ; if some one
would only buy my picture; but it is folly to
think of it," he added. "Because I have just
extricated myself from a ridiculous position, can
I hope to succeed in everything 1 Alas! I do
not possess any talisman to ensure this."
Scarcely had this tiiought formed itself in his
brain, when two persons left the group assembled
before his picture. One was a respectable old
man, the other a youth, well known for his im-
mense fortune and passionate love of the arts.
" Charles," said the old man to the latter,
" allow me to purchase this picture. I demand
this as a proof of friendship. I have but a short
time to live, and you are my sole heir. Let me
become the owner of this wonderful painting."
" I give it up to you," replied the young man ;
" but on condition that his next picture shall be
mine, and that Tou will allow me to order one
to-day, before the second which you wish to have
from him as a companion picture."
" Be it so," replied the old man ; " but you
are very tyrannical."
Frederic thouglit himself the sportof a dream ;
but he was quickly assured of the reality of what
he had heard, when the youth and the old man
advanced towards him, with smiles on their lips.
" Sir," said the youth, "pardon me for speak-
ing to you of business in this place, but my
uncle, the Prince of , desires to be intro-
duced to you, and to become the owner of jour
picture."
" Yes, sir, it belongs to me, and I entreat you
to receive its value on the spot," added the old
man, presenting to Frederic a package of bank
bills. " I desire besides, sir, a second picture of
the same dimensions."
"And I two similar ones," said the young
man ; " and in order Lliat }'ou may be j*lcdged to
me and form no other engagements, allow mc to
pay you in advance."
" And you will give us much pleasure," re-
sumed the prince, "if you will dine at my house
today. You will meet there several of your
countrymen ; licrc is my address. Adieu, sir,
till evening."
Both went away. Frederic remained stupified.
He held in his hand tliirty thousand francs in
bank notes !
" Is it a dream ? or I have lost my senses!"
he exclaimed.
The movement of tJie arm which accompa-
nied this exclamation, made something Jiill at
his feet; it was two little bits of glass, which had
remained attached to his elbow, and a rusty
Egyptian ring.
After having picked up the ring and curiously
examined it, Frederic's first thought was to re-
store it to the case from which he had uninten-
tionally taken it. He was already on his way to
the saloon of Egyptian antiquities, when, at the
sight of a group of young ladies assembled before
a picture, his thought took another direction;
for one of these young ladies reminded the young
artist of the object of his love, Marie, Iier to
wliom, in Iiis poverty and obscurity, he had not
dared to address a word.
While he remained motionless, as in the pre-
sence of an apparition which he feared to see va-
nish, the young girl suddenly turned. O, incredible
prodigy! It was Marie ! it was indeed herself.
Can so much happiness be -real ? He advances,
he salutes her, she replies by a smile. It was
indeed herself, and her mother also. This rich
baroness, who has heretofore looked on Frederic
with so much disdain, advances towards him,
accosts him !
" Allow me Monsieur Frederic, to congratu-
late you on the brilliant success which you have
obtained at this exposition, on the glory you
have shed upon Germany, on our beautiful and
beloved country. Indeed, Monsieur Frederic, it
is with tears in my eyes that I have looked upon
your picture for the first time."
And she held out her hand to him, and affec-
tionately pressed that of the artist. And Marie
also said to Frederic a few words in her soft
voice, and raised her eyes with emotion on the
great painter of her country. Then she placed
her arm within that of the young man, and
passed proudly through the curious throng, who
turned to look at the artist, and in a low voice
repeated his name.
As for Frederic, he could account for his hap-
piness only by ascribing it to magic. As this
happiness had commenced at the moment in
which he had found himself in the possession of
an Egyptian ring, some fancy suggested to him
that this must be the ring of Solomon. Having
once cherished this idea, everything appeared to
be accounted for, and a quarter of an hour after-
wards he would not have exchanged this ring for
all the treasures in the world, for it was in his
eyes the talisman of his happiness.
An hour afterwards the German ladies took
their leave of Frederic, who saw them go with
regret, but was consoled by an invitation to ciill
on them the next day.
After having breakfast, he furnished himself
with the materials for an elegant toilet, and, at
the appointed hour, repaired to the hotel of the
prince. When he entered the saloon, he was
welcomed and cordially congratulated by all his
countrymen ; but Frederic remained stupified,
for near the fire-place he saw Marie, her mother
and sisters ; he saw, also, Fritz Mayer, the friend
of his childhood) the confidant of his tenderness
for Marie.
The two friends pressed each others' hands,
and retired to a window to converse.
" I see you, then, a great painter," said Fritz ;
" I behold you rich and at the height of your
desires, for to-morrow you may be the betrothed
of Marie. I have told the baroness that you love
her daughter, and the good lady wept with joy.
'Frederic, my son! Frederic, the husband of
Marie !' she said. * It is a happiness which I
accept with transport, and for whicli 1 bless
Heaven ; for I have never dreamed for my be-
loved child so much happiness and honor !' "
" O my talisman, my talisman !" exclaimed
Frederic.
Fritz asked an explanation of these words,
and Frederic related the history of llie Egyptian
ring, and the mysterious influence it had exerted
upon his destiny.
Fritz took the ring and looked at it with a
smile.
"My friend," replied he, "this ring is an an-
tifpiity of modern manufacture, which might
easily deceive an unpractised eye. It is not,
therefore, you maybe sure, the ring of Solomon."
" But how then t^hall I explain the supernatu-
ral good fortune which has so suddenly changed
my destiny V
" By another magic talisman, as precious as
the ring of Solomon ; by a talisman which you
possess — genius."
Then he took Frederic by tlie hand, and led
him to the family of Marie.
" Here is your son," said he, to the baroness,
" Here is your lover," said he, to Marie.
One week from that evening, Frederic became
the husband of Marie.
CHANGES or TIMJE.
In Asia Minor we tread upon a soil rich in in-
teresting and s|)lendid recollections, with an ex-
isting population completely debased by ignor-
ance and slavery. The glory of twenty dilJer-
ent nations that once fiourished here, has Iiecn
extinguished ; flocks wander over the tomb of
Achilles and of Hector ; and the throne of
Mithridates and the Antiochnses have disap-
peared as well as the pala<'es of Piiam and Croe-
sus. The merchants of Smyrna do not inquire
whether Homer was bom within their walls;
the fine sky of Ionia no longer inspires either
painters or poets ; the same obscurity covers
with its shades the banks of the Jordan and ilio
Eupln-ates. The republic of Moses is not to be
found. The harps of David and Isaiah are si-
lent forever; the wandering Arabian comes, in-
different and unmoved, to rest the poles of his
tent against the shattered columns of Palmyra;
Babylon has also fallen beneath the stroke of
an avenging destiny, and that city which reigned
supreme over oppressed Asia, has scarcely left
behind it a trace that can show where the ram-
parts of Semiramis were raised. " I have seen,"
says a traveller, " the accomplishment of that
prophecy, 'Tyre, the queen of the nations, shall
be made like tlie top of a rock, where tlie fisher-
men shall spread their nets.' " — Malie Bran.
A MISER.
Lord Barco, an ancestor of the Earl of Fife,
was remarkable for practising that celebrated
rule — " Get all you can, and keep all you can
get." One day, walking down the avenue from
his house, he saw a farthing lying at his feet,
which he carefully cleaned. A beggar passing
at the same lime, entreated his lordship would
give him the fartliing, saying it was not worth a
nobleman's attention. "Fin' afarthingto your-
sel', puir body," replied his lordship, and care-
fully put the coin in his breeches pocket. In ad-
dition to being his own farthing tinder, his lord-
ship was his own factor and rent collector.
A tenant who called upon him to pay his rent,
happened to be deficient a farthing. This
amount could not be excused, and the farmer
had to pay the farthing. When the business
was adjusted, the countryman said to his lord-
ship : " Now, Barco, I would gic ye a shillin' for
a sight o' a' the goud and siller ye hae." " WecJ,
mon," replied Barco, "it's no cost ye ony mair ;"
and accordingly for, and in consideration of the
aforesaid sum, in hand first well and truly paid,
his lordship exhibited several iron boxes filled
with gold and silver coin. — "Now," says the
farmer, " I'm as rich as yourseF." "Ay, mon,"
said his lordship, "how can that be?" "Be-
cause I've seen it — atd you can do no mair." —
Scottish Uistoiy.
WODIAN'S LOVE.
A man who had struggled with a malignant
disease approached that crisis in its stage on
which his life seemed to depend. Sleep, uninter-
rupted sleep, might ensure his recovery. His
anxious wife, scarcely daring to breathe, was
sitting by his bffd, her servants, exhausted by
constant watching, had all left her. It was past
midnight, a door was open for air, she heard, in
the stillness of the night, a window open below
stairs, and soon after approacliing footsteps. A
moment more, and a man with his face disguised
entered the room. She instantly saw her hus-
band's danger; and anticipating the design of
the unwelcome intruder, she pointed to her hus-
band, and ])rcssing her finger upon her lijis to
implore silence, held out to The robber her purse
and her keys. To her great suri)rise, he took
neither. Whether he was terrified or charmed
by the courage of her affection, cannot be known.
He left the room, and, without robbing a house
sanctified by such strength of affection, he de-
paricd.—Famili/ Herald.
HOPE.
Sweet Hope of life, where shouldat thou dwell ?
Not with the eagle on the rock,
Tbe civic strife, or battle shock,
But near thy sister Truth's deep well ;
Midst shadowy wooila and grassy lanes,
Where tenderness with beauty i-eigns,
And heaven's bright silence breeds a voice within !
This be lile's eare to win,
Its noblest scope —
But not ill solitude — atone— sweet Hope !
Dick^ens's Huiisikold yVords.
Love is like a hunter, who cares not for the
game wiien once cauglit, whicli lie may have
pursued with the most intense and breathless
eagerness.— Love is strongest in pursuit; friend-
ship in possession. — Emerson.
Make tl^e doors upon a woman's wit, and it
will out at the casement; sliut tiuit, and 'twill
out al the keyhole; stop that, 'iwill fly with the
smoke out at the chimney. — Shahpcar'e.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOIM COMPANION.
247
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
O, GIVE ME BACK THY SUNNY smLE.
BY REBECCA E. PIERCE.
0, ^ve me back thy sunny smile,
Sly weary spirit to begiiile ;
For my sad heart no joy hath known,
Since the love-light from thine eye hath flown.
I ne'er had known its %vitching power,
Ere that sad parting ; till that hour
I knew not that my spirit-shrine
Were dark, without that smile of thine.
I've mingled with the fair and gay,
To banish thoughts of thee away,
That steal in sadness o'er my heart;
But no, 0, no ; they ^11 not depart !
When amid pleasure's festive throng,
I breathe the gayest jest and song ;
There is a something haunts me still,
A void thy emile alone may fill.
Earth's brightest hopes may ne'er impart
The light of gladness to my heart ;
And pleasure's voice can ne'er beguile,
Unhallowed by thy love-Ut smile.
i — *^ t
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. VI.
THE SULTAN'S HAKElff.
BY DR. JEROME Y. C. SVOTH,
AUTHOa OF A "pilgrimage TO EQTPT."
WiTHO0T circumlocution, the fact may be
promptly stoted, that polygamy is an institution
that has been, sustained and nurtured by the
Turks in every stage of their history. They did
not originate it, nor have they essentially modi-
fied the system, as it has existed from the days
of Lamech, who was the first notable of a remote
antiquity who, in the quaint language of the Old
Testament, " took unto him two wives."
Some physiologists look to the unalterable
laws of physiology in search of an apology for
this perverse custom in the character of the cli-
mate of the East ; but the Christian philosopher,
the philanthropist, and all who acknowledge
that females have political rights, social claims,
religious hopes and accountabilities, arc horror-
stricken at the promulgation of a doctrine so re-
pugnant to the moral sense, and the supposed
revealed will of God.
From an early period — far back in the patri-
archal days of nomadic simplicity — the vice of
polygamy and concubinage was firmly estab-
lished through all phases of society. In every
country of the Orient, among the most refined,
as well as ^^itl^ barbarians, the usage of having
more than one wife has prevailed, and still re-
mains in universal force.
When Mahommed developed his plan for re-
generating the people of his day, who had
plunged into a universal con-uption of manners
and idolatry, he originated nothing new in the
marital relations, but simply incorporated with
his own, a practice already venerable for its age.
He had the sagacity to perceive that it would be
impossible to legislate against a plurality of
wives, had he entertained the idea of doing so ;
and he therefore defined the rights of his faithful
followers, being careful to show them sufficient
indulgence in case that four legal helpmates
were insufficient to occupy all the space in their
capacious hearts, with as many more as they
chose to procure under another name. But all
beyond the prescribed number were to be noth-
ing more than purchased servants, at the perfect
disposal of their absolute masters.
"Writers of distinction not unfrcquently reso-
lutely assert that this odious feature in the organ-
ization of Moslem society is wearing away.
And with this declaration, high hopes are ex-
pressed of a complete revolution, which must
unquestionably elevate female character, and
signally change the entire moral aspect of Tur-
key. This is really ridiculous, and without foun-
dation. The very life and perpetuity of Mahom-
medanism is based essentially on polygamy.
When that is willingly abandoned, then the very
government itself will cease to exist.
On account of the immense expense of main-
taining four wives in equal state — which is an
expensive aflTair with a great Turkish dignitary
— even the richest among them have found econ-
omy required that their household disbursements
should be regulated according to their ability to
meet them, without pecuniary embarrassment.
To this end, therefore, the installation of one
wife is quite enough for multitudes of discreet,
money-loving gentlemen in long beards and tur-
bans ; but ihcy solace themselves for the depri-
vation of what the Koran allows, by purchasing
scores of female servants of all ages and com-
plexions. They can neither demand as a eon-
ceded right, nor expect in the relation they bear
to the purchaser, apartments, jewels, slaves or
indulgences which exclusively appertain to the
first lady of the harem.
In this manner, extensive domestic establish-
ments gradually augment from small beginnings,
according to the ability, ambition, and perhaps
other considerations of the owner, till a very
numerous family is collected.
A similar method is practised among the opu-
lent in Egypt. Economy is studied with far
more concern there by the upper classes, than
among the poor fellahs, who are sometimes ac-
tually obliged to steal their own millet from the
growing stalk to keep from starvation. Yet
those very ^\Tetched people rejoice, oftener than
otherwise, in a full complement of four wives,
but never recklessly attempt the additional lux-
ury of female associates, like the rich residents
of Cairo. This observation applies with equal
pertinency to all the dependencies of the viceroy
of the land of the pyramids, as it does to that of
his august sovereign, the Sultan of Turkey.
One of the anomalies of Mahommedan coun-
tries more striking than all others, considering
their devotion to the precepts of the Prophet, is
the low estimate in which women are held by
the masses. Necessary as they are, and coveted,
too, as an important clement, and indispensable
in the social structure, in their best estate, they
are but menials of the lowest order. Even their
lives are at the mercy of those who ought, by
the constitution of their nature, to cherish, pro-
tect and elevate them.
There are, beyond question, instances of sin-
cere affection on the part of husbands ; and of
their children, whether born of Circassians or
natives of Mozambique, they are excessively
fond, as a natural trait. But with all this, no
efforts are undertaken to give them a position
that corresponds with that held by women where
Christianity is revered.
In the course of these prelections, instances
may be cited of female geniuses. AVith a proper
mental culture, there is no calculating the extent
of the poetical resources, aside from all others,
of many a splendid woman in Turkey, who has
passed away without leaving a trace of her foot-
steps on earth, who might have exercised the
highest order of abilities for the advancement of
the sex, could her latent powers have been de-
veloped. Nothing is doing, nor can anything
be done, for their advancement, without running
counter to the dogmas of the prescribed religious
creed.
Woman in Turkey is an article of trade, and
unless presented distinctly as a gift, she is
bought and sold, without being consulted or
apologized to, under any form of destiny to
which she is driven. And although thus de-
graded and trodden into the dust, she is not as
ivTCtched as might at first he supposed, because
ignorant of the depths of her degradation. In
the relations which she bears to her children,
ti-ue to the instincts of her being, she is still an
angel in character, and a beauty in form. With
no hold upon the affections of man beyond those
inspired by physical organization, she lives and
dies, without knowing the multitude of wrongs
she has suffei'cd.
Whoever visits Constantinople, expresses his
astonishment at the exterior precautions that
have been taken from the commencement of the
imperial Turkish rule, to the present day, to
guard the royal household from the contamina-
tion of vulgar eyes. Of the internal economy
of the establishments occupied by ladies, but
very little is known, beyond an inspection of
their apartments when unoccupied.
Curiosity has prompted many European la-
dies of distmction, the wives of ambassadors re-
siding at the Tui-kish court, to gain access to
the kadines — the sekct, the mothers of the Sul-
tan's living children — but their curiosity has not
been gratified. They have seen enough to sur-
prise them in the harems of the great dignitaries,
but the interior of the imperial residence of bliss
—to use an Orientalism — has been denied them.
Such facts only are here given as have been
gathered from a reliable source, together with
my own personal examination of the apartments
formerly occupied by a succession of imperial
kadines, up to the death of Mahommed II.
The fortunate kadine who bears the first
prince, has pre-eminence over all other females
of the harem, but has no title until her son ar-
rives at the throne. From what is known of the
numbers of females belonging to the late Sul-
tans, it is probable that from three to five hun-
dred, including all orders of females slaves, con-
stitute the present establishment. No catalogue
of them is ever published, of course ; but from
the fact that thirty millions of piastres, equal to
554,600 dollars, is taken from the public treasury
for the support of that branch of the Sultan's
demands, it is morally certain that there is a
large number of them.
A cash income of £110,000 is represented by
an English writer, who gathered his information
from official sources, belongs exclusively to the
mother of the present Sultan. His aunts, sisters
and daughters are specifically supplied with
large incomes derived from products of the earth,
in certain districts or islands. One has a tax on
all the oranges sold at Naxos ; another, that
arising from the wines of another place, and so
on. The Vilada Sultana, the fortunate mother
of Sultan Megid, whose name is Berma Allem
(ornament of the universe), was a Georgian
slave.
All the kadines of the now reigning Sultan
are Circassians, and were purchased slaves, pre-
sented as gifts by his mother, aunts, sisters, and
those great men who wish to court his special
favor^ together with such ladies besides as have
been purchased by his instructed commissioners.
They have equal rights, and favoritism is stu-
diously avoided ; yet their lordly proprietor is
never approached by them without making the
profoundest reverence. These few scraps illus-
trative of the doings within, are gathered prin-
cipally from ladies who have collected them, it
is presumable, from the servants, tradeswomen
and medical attendants of the harem.
[For engraving of Musician of the Harem, see page 256-]
These kadines arc not called wives, for they
stand in no such relation. They are not allowed
to sit in the Sultan's presence, except upon
cushions on the floor, but his daughters may.
Five of the kadines — one bearing the following
name, Zihem Felik, ornament of heaven — died
in 1844. Among them, they have had eight
children, three of wliom have died. One of the
sons bears the name of Sultan Mohammed Mu-
rad, and another. Sultan Abdoul Hamid — ser-
vant of the good.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SONNET— TO LUELLACEINE.
WRITTEN AT PARTING.
ET J. STARR HOLLOWAT.
If I could trace ■within the days to come,
One sorrowful presentiment of ill ;
If any shape or form of gloom could fill
My feeing now, some grief would tear me, some
Wild agony would make me sick and dumb ;
And I could not go hence so calm. Yet still
My soul is sad, although I feel there will
No danger come upon thee while I roam.
Sad, sad am I to go, my dearest, sad
To part from thee, beloved one, at all ;
Yet calm and happy do I leave thee, glad
No dark forebodings o'er the future fall ;
And thou dost seem so happy, so serene,
My bride, my beautiful Luellaocine I
THE SEASONS IN ICELAND.
From the IGth or 18th of June, till the end of
the month there is no night. The sun disap-
pears for a short lime behind the hills, but twi-
light and dawn are blended together, and the
last rays of evening have not faded from the sky
before the morning light breaks foith with re-
newed brilliancy. I was in Iceland fi'om the
15th of May to the 29t]i of July, and although I
never went to bed before 11 o'clock, I did not
once require the light of a candle. In May, as
well as towards the end of July, the twilight
lasted about two hours, but it was never dark.
Even at the time of my departure I could see to
read till half past eleven. At first it seemed
very strange to go to bed in broad daylight; but
I soon got used to it, and no sunshine was bright
enough to keep me awake after 11 o'clock. It
often struck me as very ridiculous, however, to
go out for an evening stroll about ten, and find
myself in the full light of day, instead of the
soft glimmering of the moon and stars. — Baud.
CHILDREN'S JOYS AND SORROWS.
I can endure a melancholy man, but not a
melancholy child ; tlie former, in wliatever
slough he may sink, can r^isc his eyes either to
the kingdom of reason or of hope ; but the lit-
tle child is entirely absorbed and weighed down
by one black poison-drop of the present. Think
of a child led to the scaffold, think of Cupid in
a coffin ; or watch a butterfly, after its four
wings have been torn off, creeping like a worm,
and you will feci what I mean. But wherefore f
The first has been already given ; the child, like
the beast, only knows purest, though shortest
sorrow; one which has no past and no future ;
one such as the sick man receives from without,
the dreamer from himself into his asthenic
brain ; finally, one with the consciousness not of
guilt, but of innocence. Certainly, all the sor-
rows of children are but shortest nights, as their
joys are but hottest days ; and, indeed, both so
much so, that in the latter, often cloudless and
starless time of life, tlie matured man only long-
ingly remembers his old childhood's pleasures,
while he seems altogether to have forgotten his
childhood's grief. This weak remembrance is
strangely contrasted with the opposing one in
dreams and fevers in this respect, that in the two
last it is always the cruel sorrows of childhood
which return ; the dream this mock-sun of child-
hood— and the fever, its distorting glass — both
draw forth from dark corners the fears of de-
fenceless childhood, which press and cut with
iron fangs into the prostrate soul. The fair
scenes of dreams mostly play on an after-stage,
whereas the frightful ones choose for theirs the
cradle and. the nin'sery. Moreover, in fever, the
ice-hands of the fear of ghosts, the striking one
of the teachers and parents, and every claw with
which fate has pressed the young heart, stretch
themselves out to catch the wandering man.
Parents, consider then that every childhood's
Rupert — the name given in Germany to the fic-
titious being employed to frighten children into
obedience — even though it has lain chained for
tens of years, yet breaks loose and gains mas-
tery over the man so soon as it finds him on a
sick-bed. The first fright is more dangerous the
sooner it happens . as the man grows older, he
is less and less easily frightened ; the little cradle
of the child is more easily quite darkened than
the starry heaven of the man. — JRicIder.
LADIES' DRESSES.
Incongruity may be frequently observed in the
adoption of colors without reference to their ac-
cordance with the complexion or stature of the
wearer. We continually see a light blue bonnet
and flowers surrounding a sallow countenance,
or a pink opposed to one of a glowing red ; a
pale complexion associated with a canary or
lemon yellow, or one of delicate red and white
rendered almost colorless by the vicinity of deep
red. Now, if the lady with a sallow complexion
liad worn a transparent white bonnet; or if the
lady with the glowing red complexion had low-
ered it by means of a bonnet of a deeper red
color ; if the ])ale lady had improved the cadav-
erous hue of her countenance by surrounding it
with pale green, which, by contrast, would have
suffused it with a delicate pink hue ; or had the
face
" Whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on,"
been arrayed in a light blue, or light green, or
in a transparent white bonnet, with blue or pink
flowers on the inside, how different, and how
much more agreeable would have been the im-
pression on the spectator. How frequently,
again, do we see the dimensions of a tall and
embonpoint figure magnified to almost Brobdig-
nagian proportions by a white dress, or a small
woman reduced to Liliputian size by a black
dress ! Now, as the optical effect of white is to
enlarge objects, and that of black to diminish
them, if the large woman had been dressed in
black, and the small woman in white, the appa-
rent size of each would have approached the or-
dinary stature, and the former would not have
appeared a giantess, or the latter a dwaif. —
31rs. Meirijield in Art-Journal.
FACTS IN PHYSIOLOGY,
A man is taller in the morning than at night
to the extent of half an inch, owing to the relax-
ation of the cartilages.
The human brain is the twenty-eighth of the
body, but in the horse but a four-hundredth.
Ten days per annum is the average sickness
of human life.
About the age of 36 the lean man generally
becomes fatter and the fat man leaner.
Eichter enumerates 600 distinct species of dis-
ease in the eye.
The pulse of children is 180 in a minute; at
puberty it is 80 ; and at 60 it is only 60.
Elephants live fo r two hundred, three hundred,
and even four hundred years. A healthy full-
grown elephant consumes thirty pounds of grain
per day.
The flea, grasshopper and locust jump 200
times their own length, equal to a quarter of a
mile for a man. — British Glean&'.
No one has a right to trifle even with the
slightest opportunity of being useful. Few can
work out splendid achievements; hut that indi-
vidual who unobtrusively pursues his way, and
feels a quiet joy in dropping an appropriate word
of rational instruction, who judiciously expresses
sympathy, or utters his convictions in tones of
virtuous persuasion, may do more in the course
of his humble life than another who endows hos-
pitals, patronii^es popular institutions, and blazes
out into sudden acts of brilliant munificence.
THE LEECH.
Recent observations on the comparative anat-
omy of this little animal have made known to
us, that just within its mouth it is furnished with
three little jaws, triangularly arranged, on each
side of which are inserted a row of very minute
sharp-pointed teeth, mucli resembling the teeth
of a saw. Each jaw has its appropriate muscu-
lar apparatus for its peculiar action, and thus is
explained the constant shape of tlfe wound ob-
served after the application of tliis very useful
animal. — Annals of Chemistry.
248
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF MOYAMENSING PBISON, PHILADELPHIA COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.
MOYAMENSING PRISON.
Philadelphia County Prison, of which our ar-
tist has given us a fine view above, is situated on
Passyunk road, in the district of Moyamensing,
about one mile south of the city proper. A line
of omnibuses constantly runs from the Exclianf:,re,
via Chestnut and Sixtii Streets, to within half a
square of the prison. The front of this structure
consists of a centre building, with receding wings
on either side, flanked by massive octagonal
towers ; beyond these towers, receding wing
walls are continued to the extremities of the
front, and terminate with embattled bastions.
The whole exterior is constructed of Quincy
granite, and the style of architecture, that of the
olden days of chivalry, decorated in the Tudor
style of English Gothic. The wings are two
stories high, and contain the gates of entrance.
These wings and the towers which flank them,
together with the bastions on the extreme angles
in front, are finished to correspond with the cen-
tre edifice. The extreme
height of the centre
building is seventy-five
feet. The interior of
the main prison is di-
vided into two general
divisions — one for un-
tried prisoners, va-
grants, etc., and the
other for convicts. It
contains four hundred
and eight separate cells,
built in two blocks, three
stories high, extending
from each wing, at right
angles with the princi-
pal front. The cells
open into a corridor oc-
cupying the centre of
each block, and extend-
ing the whole length
and height of the build-
ing; the upper stories
being approached by
means of granite stair-
ways leading to galler-
ies supported by cast
iron brackets. A clerk's
office is situated at the
head of each corridor,
from which every cell
door may be seen
throughout the entire
range. The apartment
for females is situated
on an adjoining lot.
This building embraces
one hundred separate
cells, a suite of rooms
for an infirmary, and
two apartments for the
keepers. The principal
entrance to tins portion
of the establishment is
in Eleventh Street ; it
uonsists of a gateway,
placed in the middle of
a projecting centre, con-
structed of brown stone,
finished in the Egyptian
stylo of architecture.
The prison combines all
the charactenstics of a
penitentiary proper, as well as those of a county
jail and workhouse. It is under the manage-
ment of a board of fifteen inspectors, whose du-
ties are pro')ably more arduous than those of
any other in the country ; yet we liave no hesita-
tion to speak with confidence of the generally
correct regulation and superintendence of every
department. The health of the prison is good.
In this respect, it will compare with any other in
the United States. Great care is taken to fur-
nish wholesome food, and to have it properly
cooked; every person is allowed as much as he
wants — this being found more economical than
the mode of individual rations. We refer with
pleasure to the moral instruction of the prisoners.
The Key. W. Alexander fills the office of in-
structor, with both credit to himself, and satis-
faction to the inspectors. The female depart-
ment is regularly attended by a committee of
four ladies belonging to the " Association of
Women Friends." The inspectors and others
acquainted with the labors of this society, speak
highly of the wholesome effects resulting from
their efforts. Indeed, there is nothing connected
with the internal arrangement of the prison, that
presents a more pleasing and interesting specta-
cle than the untiring energy and laudable zeal of
these truly benevolent ladies. Each convict, on
leaving the prison at the expiration of his sen-
tence, is furnished with a suit of decent clothes
and a sum of money for his present wants, as
tlie means of removing him from the immediate
temptation to commit crime. The officers of the
prison consist of a superintendent, a clerk, a
matron, two deputies, a physician, and a moral
instructor. The heavy and unwelcome-looking
omnibus, called the " Black Maria," runs regu-
larly with passengers to and from the County
Prison. Our artist has sketched us an "old
off^ender," who is about taking a summer excur-
sion to the suburbs, where the moral influence of
the institution may bring about a reform.
VIEW OF THE CROTON DAM.
CROTON DAflr.
Tlie Croton Aqueduct was designed to supply
the city of New Y'ork with an abundance of pure
and wholesome water. It commences about six
miles above the mouth of the Croton River,
where a dam has been constructed to elevate the
water of the river forty feet to the level of the
head of the aqueduct, or 1 G6 feet above mean
tide. Below, our artist has sketched a view of
this dam. The course of the aqueduct passes
along the valley of the Croton to near its mouth,
and thence passes into the valley of the Hudson.
At eight miles from the Croton dam it reaches
the village of Sing Sing, and continues south
through many other Tillages until it reaches its
consummation in New York city. The southern
shore of the Croton River at the point where the
dam is located, is a gneiss rock, moderately slop-
ing up the hill from the water's edge, but not ap-
pearing to extend far into the river. The dam
required to be raised forty feet above low water
in the river, and it was
an important object to
arrange the plan, so as
to obtain a rock founda-
tion for the masonry.
This was ingeniously
done, but our limits will
not permit a description
^_ of the details of the la-
bor ; suffice it to say, the
dam admirably answers
~ the purpose of its con-
struction, and is a beau-
^_ tiful piece of masonry.
'"'.^ At .300 feet below the
!^ main dam a second dam
has been constructed,
which is 9 feet high, and
built of timber, stone
and gravel, which also
sets the water back over
the main dam and forms
a pool to check the wa-
ter as it falls on it. The
contractors, Messrs.
MeCuUougli, Hepburn,
Black and McManus,
have evinced commend-
able ability in its prose-
cution, The main dam
sets the water of the
river back five miles,
and forms a reservoir of
about 400 acres, and
has rendered it neces-
sary to construct sca'-
cral new roads and
bridges as a substitute
for those covered by the
flow, the principal of
which is the Somers-
town turnpike. The
grounds lightly flowed
on the margin, havo
been excavated so as to
give four and a half
feet for the least depth
of water. From this res-
ervoir the water flows
into the bulkhcad.at the
upper end of the tunnel,
IVom a level averaging
H) ft. below the surface.
^^
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
249
BEFOHM SCHOOL
This State insti-
tution, located in
Westboroutih, Wor-
cester County, Mas-
sachusetts, was es-
tablished in 1846;
and is intended for
the reformation of
male juvenile of-
fen ders under six-
teen years of age. It
can accommodate
300. Thedcaignof
the State govern-
ment in the founda-
tion of this Reform
School, is the hope
of saving young de-
linquents from the
corrupting in H uen-
ces resulting from
association with con-
firmed criminals. —
This school does nut
in any of its various
departments bear
any resemblance to
a prison : the boys
are placed under ex-
amples, and sur-
rounded by influen-
ces which are not
only calculated to
reform them, but to
lead them to look
with high hope and
trust to the future.
The late Theodore
Lyman left S50,000
hy will to the Ke-
form School. He
had made it previ-
ously donations
amounting to S22,-
500, of 812,500 were
expended for the
two farms on which
thcschoolis located.
The remaining 60,-
000 is invested as a
permanent fund, ac-
cording to the wishes
of the testator, the
income of which is
to be used at the dis-
cretion of the trast-
ecs in such a man-
ner as will be most
in accordance with
the intentions of the
donor, and at the
same time most
beneficial to the in-
stitution.
VIEW OF THE STATE REFORM SCHOOL^ AT WESTBORO', MASS.
CALDWELL, N. Y.
Caldwell, a view
of which is given
in the picture below,
is delightfully situ-
ated at the head of
Lake George, on its
south-west shore ; it
is about 62 miles
north of Albany,
and 24 from Sara-
toga Springs. The
village and the lake
are ordinarily taken
in the circle of the
northern tour, and
commonly sought
by visitors to the
Saratoga Springs.
The village on tlie
west is bordered by
a range of hills, the
highest of which,
Prospect, or Rattle-
snake Hill, attains
an elevation of abou t
1500 feet. There is
a path of difficult
ascent to its sum-
mit, yet when this
is once attained, the
extensive and diver-
sified view it affords,
fully compensates
for the trouble. Be-
neath is the village
and its neighboring
farms ; in the deep
valley on the north,
the lake stretches
away, decked with
its hundreds of fairy
islets, visible for 17
miles, its shores sur-
mounted by craggy
ridges, rising gently
from the water for
a short distance, then
by abolder acclivity
some eight hundred
feet. Prominent in
our view is the Lake
George House, a
spacious hotel, ca-
pable of receiving
over one hundred
persons, and afl^ord-
ing superior accom-
modations to the
visitor. A steam-
boat plies every day
down the lake, to
meet the steamboat
ninnine: on Lake
Champlain.
VIEW OE THE TOWN OF CALDWELL, ON LAKE GEORGE, NEW YORK.
2.50
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloason's Pictorial.]
LITTLE EVA.
AT amohy hall, boston.
BY B. 0UKTIS8 HINB, U. B. N.
By II seulpturcii mnrblo fountfiin,
W'horo thi) wiitcra brightly gleam,
Liky a disUnt Piiow-ni)tpcd mountain,
Or some wildly ruahing Htrcum ;
Sit two boingfl, flwcotly smiling,
In tlio niorniug'fl goldisn priuio.
And tlic day's young hour Itoguiiing,
In tlio BUDoy sontbcrn clime.
One, a little olf or fairy,
With bor wuvy locks of gold.
And the other doomed to carry
Miiny a bitter woo untold ;
Yot a smile is on her features,
And tho lovo beam in her eyo ;
Tor of all earth's myriad creatures,
Lovea she Jiva, sitting by.
Tiolot eyes and golden tresses.
And a form of life and light,
Tbut an ebon fiice caresses,
Ijiko the morn beside dusk night;
Kadiaut art, with skilful finger,
llath inwrought with beauty there;
On whieh many an eyo will linger.
While the heart forgets its care.
[Written for Gloason's Pictorial.]
LOUIS SUMMERFIELD:
— on THE —
FKUITS OF A COLLEGE VACATION.
BY GEO. CANNING HILL.
JnsT as the shadows of a summer evening
■were gathering vn the spacious yard of a New
England college, a young man — a student in the
place — seated himself in a huge easy chair hy
the window, and watclicd the coming and tlie
thickening of the gloom.
The masses of leaves among the mayile and
elm boughs seemed peopled with weird and
strange creations ; rising sombre and sad out of
the young man's brain, perhaps, but having
hardly less vivid power over him than if they
were living and moving realities.
He gazed out among them, and all manner of
feelings swam over his heart. He lived over
again the days of sunshine. He revelled once
more among pleasant memories. He thought of
his mother, — what lonely young student fails to
think of her "? — of his brothers and sisters, and
his many absent friends. And amid all his
thoughts of them, he found time and room to
ask himself if he was not fully answering the
hopes of all of them.
" Let me see," mused he, hitching in his chair,
and throwing back his head still farther, " let mc
see; where had I better go this coming vaca-
tion ';"
He might have gone where he chose, I con-
clude; but he was manifestly trying to think of
such a distribution of his time as would be like-
ly to bring him the greatest variety and pleasure
at once.
" There'll be Uncle Tom's for one place," con-
tinued he ; " and Aunt Mary's for another ; and,
of course, I shall have to go to see Harry, and
that'll take from me quite a little piece of my
vacation ; and — and, let me see. Yes, I have it;
I have it ! I'll go and see Clara Barker, upon
my word !" and with this sudden happy thought,
he half jumped from his chair, as if it momenta-
rily threw him from his balance.
Who Clara Barker was, and how she stood re-
lated to the tenderer feelings of Louis Summer-
field, and what finally became of this very peculiar
acquaintance, the reader, if he has patience, will
discover to his satisfaction before he gets
through.
Louis passed but a restless night of it, at the
best. The last day of the term was over. On
the following morning, he would wander forth
into the world, going and coming as he listed.
The university dream would be gone.
He was thinking, too, of the many ways he
had planned to go, during this very vacation ;
and the voices he should hear; and the faces he
should see; and tlie many scenes lie should wit-
ness, and himself go through. All these things
tended naturally to make him restless.
Morning dawned as brightly as it ever did.
The gold sun-streaks eame pouring through the
damp maple leaves into his window, making all
aorts of quaint figures upon the carpet. They fell
across the face of the little clock on his mantel,
and lit up the moment that was passing. It was
already six o'clock.
The heart of Louis Summcrfield was all in a
flutter. His feelings and fancies wore most
strangely mixed up. And the appearance of his
apartment was not less confused. His trunks
and carpet-bugs lay in the middle of the room,
nearly filled with all kiiuls and qualities of cloth-
ing, and seemingly waiting for their departure.
They looked as if they had rcnuuncd hidden in
their dark closets until they, too, needed a change
as much ns he.
Books were strewn ])rofusely over the table,
and he was in the act of gathering them rapidly
up, and decently arranging and stowing them on
the shelves of his secretary. He shuffled over
piles of manuscripts, of mixed names and char-
acters, bestowing some of tlie loose leaves in the
huge drawer that gaped under the table's edge,
and ])acking others away in the ])ockets of his
portfolio. All the time he alternately hummed
and whistled, to temper his excitement. He
kept hurrying round the room, too, overhauling,
arranging, stowing, packing away, and complet-
ing his preparations for leaving town by an eai'ly
hour.
He at length left the apartment, his trunks
going down on the shoulders of the hackman be-
fore him. As he was about to shut the door, he
hesitated, gave a parting look of sadness about
the apartment, shut the door, and locked it. He
tore himself from the memories that held him
bodily back.
The whole of his journey home was but a va-
riety— at last grown monotonous — of feelings
and fancies connected with the six weeks before
him. He planned till he could plan nothing
more. He plotted till he could not excite him-
self with any further eflbrts of iiis ingenuity.
And that same night he reached home. lean-
not tell the reader how glad weix his brothers
and sisters to see him ; nor with what a tender
smile his mother hurried to his embrace ; nor
how the glistening eye of his doting father dilat-
ed with pride to see the added manliness that be-
trayed itself — his son's manner. Louis had got
home ; ho was, for the moment, happy.
When he finally reached the pleasant country
village of Grassmoat, which it took him quite
two days to reach, it was evening. The stage
whirled him round a sharp corner of a wooden
building, and he alighted before the door of what
everyone in that vicinity called the hotel. There
were a few dimly-burning tallow candles about
the bar-rooms, and a handful of men and boys
near the door. Above his head he observed a
huge, square board sign, that looked as if, when
it swung in the winds, it must keep an enormous
shadow flapping and sailing for the whole length
of the village street.
He entered the house, paid his fare to the
coachman who followed, accosted the individual
who looked large enough to be the landlord, and
requested to be shown at once to his room.
When he was fairly within the four walls of
his apartment, he placed the light on the table,
shut the door, and proceeded to unlock his trav-
elling trunk. From this he managed to draw
forth what articles he seemed most to need, and
then began his equipment with them.
To one thing he had long ago made up his
mind. He came to Grassmoat expressly to see
Miss Clara Barker. He was determined to wait
on her at her house just as soon as he could put
himself in becoming trim.
Clara was an only child, and her mother was
a widow. The widow Barker was esteemed
quite rich, and certainly went as far as she could
in the way of strengthening such public opinion,
by living on one of the most delightful and ro-
mantic places that could be found. Yet she was
proud — intensely proud ; and rather than suffer at
the hands of another in meekness and submis-
sion, she would have sacrificed the half of her
ample estate.
As Chira was an only daughter, she was
thought quite as much of as only daughters are
apt to be. Whoever else in that family might be
first, it was pretty certain that she was not
second. The pride of the mother had descended
to the daughter. But it could not have repro-
duced itself in the latter with such an intensity
as it betrayed itself in her mother.
We ask the reader's pardon. We will let this
all take due care of itself.
To come back again to Mr. Louis Summei-field.
He had, at length, completed liis change in his
dress, and, taking a final look in the little mirror,
and adjusting his hat, with a view to a trifle
more of effect, upon his forehead, he walked
down stairs, and emerged into the jmblic street.
It had suddenly grown quite dark, and a cool
wind blew now through the village. The leaven
were stirred in the darkness, and rustled myste-
riously. He saw lights in ])lenty in a large house
across the Common, anil heard strains of music
from the same quarter. He met a few passers,
some of them ladies, and all going in the direc-
tion of the lighted house.
Pushing his own way on to the residence of
the widow Barker, ho finally found himself on
the broad door-step beneath the woodbine-clad
porch. He raised the huge brass knocker, and
let it fall three or four times against the plate.
A gill opened the door, holding a light in her
hand.
"Is Miss Clara Barker at homo?" inquired
Louis, stammering somcwiiat with his question.
" No.sir," answered the girl ; " she's gone out."
" Out of town ?"
"No, sir; but — "
"Is her mother at home?" interrupted and
persisted he.
"No, sir; she went with her, too. But Cla-
ra's cousin is at home, if you would like to see
her."
This was intelligence the young student had
not anticipated. Ho did not know before that
Clara had a cousin. Therefore he hesitated.
At length he replied :
" I would like to see her a few moments."
The girl beckoned him in with her head. She
closed the door after liim, and led him across the
spacious hall to the door of a room in the back
part of the house. She opened it, and asked
him to go in.
Louis walked across the threshold, and, in-
deed, had gone quite into the middle of the
room before he saw that any one beside himself
was there.
A young girl sat in the hither corner, near a
lamp that was set upon a little stand, engaged in
reading. She looked up as she saw a gentleman
standing before her, with much astonishment and
alarm.
" This gentleman called. Miss Ellen," said the
servant.
Ellen half rose, and looked alternately at the
girl and her new guest, as if she would by her
inquisitive look ask whom he came particularly
to see.
" I understand your embarrassment," said
Louis, taking a step gallantly forward. " I am
a stranger to you, as you are to me. My name
is Louis Summerfield. I am an acquaintance
of Miss Clara Barker and her mother ; and as I
came from a distant to^vn to-day, thought I
would call on them this evening. I learn that
they are out. At any rate, I hope they are
well."
" They are," said the cousin — a pretty miss of
nineteen. "lam very sorry, on your account,
that they are not here ; but we all were invited out
to Mrs. Williams's party this evening, and cousin
and her mother went;" and after a little hesi-
tation slie added : " I staid at home."
She asked her visitor to be seated, an invita-
tion with which he found compliance by no
means difiicult. The servant left the room, and
they were alone.
They entered, by slow degrees, into conversa-
tion. Louis suggested the topics, and himself
led the way. He was struck with the appearance
of the young girl from the first moment he saw
her; but as he succeeded in engaging her in con-
versation, her beauties and various points of in-
terest multiplied marvellously in his sight.
She talked with fluency and grace. She be-
trayed an intellect of freshness, and more than
ordinary culture. And her beautiful face was
not unworthy to illustrate such a mind. In her
remarks, in her questions, and her answers, she
showed such an innocence, so much of artless-
ness, and so much more of refinement of taste,
that the young student was deeply impressed
with everything he heard and saw.
He asked her what book he had interrupted
her in reading, and heard her reply that it was
one of Scott's novels. And from that starting-
point they went on ; discoursing on literature
and literary persons, and books, and matters of
taste, for a long time. Ellen evinced a large
and accurate knowledge of the topics that were
brought up.
It was quite ten o'clock when he rose from his
chair to go, and he excused himself to Ellen for
lengthening his call ?o much. He was not
aware that the time coiikl have passed so rapidly.
The color flew to her face. Carrying her lamp
along with her, she followed him to the hall
door; and while he stood on the broad door-step
again, he bade her good-night, telling her to as-
sure her aunt and cousin that he should call
upon them the next day.
When Mrs. Barker and Clara returned from
tlio party of that evening, it was nearly midnight;
yet they found Ellen patiently sitting up for
them. She was still poring over the novel on
which Mr, I^uis Summerfield had surprised her.
Somehow what she read was very strangely
mixed in with what he had said, and the golden
page of the great magician was all the time in-
terwoven with the sentiments and the words of
the young student. She could not give herself
so completely to the narration now as before.
It must he confessed, too, that Louis was much
given to wakefulness that night, and that he felt,
in the morning, to use his own and a quite com-
mon expression, " as if hia eyes were full of
sticks."
Ellen acquainted Mrs. Barker with the fact of
a ^'isit from Mr. Summerfield, almost as soon as
she entered the room. That lady lifted her
hands in astonishment.
" 0 dear !" exclaimed Clara, "I wish I'd staid
at home."
"But we shall see him to-morrow, my child,"
said her mother.
" Yes ; but — " and she glanced at Ellen.
" How long did he stay V asked Mrs. Barker,
taking a hint from the envious glance of her
daughter.
"I should think nearly three hours," replied
Ellen.
Clara scowled fiercely. Had her sex been
different, I should be allowed to speak the whole
truth, and say that she gritted her teeth.
"A pretty long call," remarked Mrs. Barker.
"Pray, how did you manage to entertain him,
Ellen V
" He seemed to find no trouble in entertaining
himself," answered she. " He was very much
inclined to conversation, and certainly carried it
on as one docs not often have an opportunity to
witness."
Tho mother exchanged looks with the daugh-
ter.
" Well," said the former, at length, "you had
better retire now ; you must be exceedingly tired
with sitting up so long for us."
And Ellen bade them good-night, and went
out of the room.
Mrs. Barker sat a long time afterwards with
Clara, talking alternately of the little events of
the evening party, and of the very unexpected
visit of Mr. Summerfield.
" I wish I'd staid at home, mother," said Cla-
ra, looking anxious and disappointed. " I've no
doubt that Ellen did all she dared to poison his
mind about me."
" If I did but know she did !" interrupted Mrs.
Barker, threateningly.
" Yet why not as well believe so, and say so,
as to only //(?»^' so ? Yon know how bent she
always has been on doing just what is most apt
to annoy and mortify me ; and I verily believe
that if a gentleman should desire to pay any very
particular attention to me, as they sometimes do,
Ellen would work with all her might to draw his
attention to herself."
" I made a great mistake — a fp-eat mistake!"
muttered and whispered Mrs. Barker together.
She probably meant in reference to adopting
Ellen into her own family.
" But did you see how hateful that Mary Win-
ter was this evening ?" asked Clara, breaking
out in a new spot.
" Pray, my daughter, did she show any of her
airs to you V
" To be sure she did. She took particular
pains to have me understand that she esteemed
herself quite as much as I did myself."
" Did you have anything to say with her?"
"Not I, indeed ! I fancy I've got too much
of your blood to suffer such a person as she to
approach me at such a time as that ! And then,
did you see how all-sufficient and satisfied she
felt when she promenaded through the rooms on
the arm of that Mr. Van Wort? and he a per-
fect stranqcr, too ! I declare, I wonder how and
where she got acquainted with him. I never
saw another such person as she is ; there's never
a stranger in town but she has hold of him. And
I sup]iose she'll get in with Mr. Summerfield
next !"
" /7/ stop any such plan as that, Clara," said
her mother. " I know I have influence enough
to prevent her having her own way there!"
" 0, if I'd only staid at home, mother !" per-
sisted the dissatisfied and unhappy girl. " I'd
rather have had onythimj happen than that Ellen
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
251
should have had the company of Mr. Louis Sum-
merficld for a whole evening. I A-noiy everything
now will turn out just as I fear. She has so
much deception about her, and all the time pre-
tends to so ranch innocence."
"Ellen will know ha- place here," replied Mrs.
Barker, her eyes kindling strangely, "or she will
liud it somewhere else !" she added, fiercely.
And after this determination had been fairly
laid upon its foundation, the proud mother and
her spoiled daughter weut off at a very late hour
to bed.
Mr. Summerfieid was at the house of Mrs.
Barker again by eleven o'clock of the next morn-
ing. They had been expecting him for some
time ; and when he at last did come, it cannot
be gainsayed that he met with an uncommonly
enthusiastic reception.
Mi"S. Barker took him and shook him by the
hand. It was very cordial, her greeting. And
Clara tried not to seem too much rejoiced, for
fear she might transgress that law of propriety —
a law as reasonless and heartless often as any of
the most rigid enactments of the Medes and Per-
sians ; but in despite of her coquettish predilec-
tions, she was so far perfectly natural as to tell
Mr. Summerfield very distinctly that she was
right glad to see him again.
They had a long- and an agreeable day of it ;
for they made their young friend remain to din-
ner and to tea, and, even after that, late into the
evening.
It was some time after he had been in the
house that he was able to see Ellen, and for that
he was obliged to ask particularly for her, too.
Mrs. Barker looked vexed. Clara icas vexed,
whether she looked so or not. And Ellen en-
tered the room.
Mr. Summerfield accosted her with much po-
liteness. He could not conceal, either from her
or from her friends, the pleasure of his visit the
evening before.
He did not mean at any moment to forget
what was due from himself to his old acquain-
tance, nor did he for a moment forget ; but still,
the face of Ellen was looking steadily through
the wicket that guarded his heart.
It was, altogether, a very pleasant day. Mr.
Summerfield proposed a walk in the spacious
garden after dinner, and they all went, and
lounged on the cushioned seats in the little rustic
temple at the end of the avenue, and plucked the
leaves and blossoms as they sat there, talking of
friends, and fashion, and college, and the great
world beyond. Ellen did not sit down much of
her time. She roamed about by herself; and, at
last, the young student sprang suddenly from his
seat beside Mrs. Barker, and wondered where
Miss Ellen could have betaken herself.
*' 0, she's probably gone back bito the house/'
said Mrs. Barker, with a tone of disparagement.
" It's not at all likely that anything ive could
talk about here could interest her much. She's
happiest by herself, I think."
Louis stared into her brilliant eyes at this
speech, to sec whether she might be altogether
serious ; but his gaze was met by one fully as
collected and steady as his own. He thought it
was truly a strange estimate for an aunt to place
on her own niece ; especially when it conflieted
so completely with the one he had formed him-
self of her. And so he hesitated.
'* I believe I heard her in the farther part of
the garden," said he, at length. " Excuse me a
minute, and I will go look her up."
Mrs. Barker was going to tell him it was of
no sort of consequence, or something to that
effect ; but before the words were on her lips, he
had fled past her, and found his way into a dis-
tant thicket of tulips, and rose trees, and vines.
" How strange he thinks so much of her !" ex-
claimed Mrs. Barker, as soon as he had gone out
of hearing.
" It's just as I said," replied Clara, testily ;
"it's just the way Ellen always manages when
any one comes here expressly to see meV
" But she shall do it no more !" said her mo-
ther. " She has forgotten who she is here. I
will quicken her thoughtfulness."
In a few moments Mr. Summerfield returned
to the little temple, Ellen leaning on his ann !
Her face was flushed with a beautiful color. So
was Clara's when she saw them, but it was the
sudden flush of passion.
" I've found the runaway !" cried Louis, draw-
ing her forward, and leading her in where her
aunt and cousin sat. " She was down among
the rose-trees."
Neither mother nor daughter made any reply.
" And just see what I have got for my pains !"
cried he again, holding up a pretty bouquet that
hhe had gathered and given him.
Mrs. Barker gave her niece a look that was in-
tended to crush her at once. It did not do quite
that with her spirits, but it had the effect to
sober them marvellously. Clara's face was
crimson.
They went thence, a little while after, into the
house. And late in the evening, as 1 have re-
lated already, Louis took his leave for the niuht.
A few days passed by, each one of which
found Louis at the house of the widow Barker,
where lie managed to spend very much of his
time. Ellen made her appearance as often as
the pecuUar circumstances that suiTounded her
would permit ; and each interview^ she had with
him, however brief and broken it was, did but
confirm the impression he first received from her.
One day, there was to be a party of the young
people of the village, in the woods. It was al-
ready early autumn, and rambling across sunny
slopes and pastures, and among the gorgeous
apparel of the trees, and vines, and bushes, was
an occupation of pure pleasure. Quite a large
band of young persons cf both sexes had resolv-
ed to go. They were all to carry their dinners,
or refreshments, and so go when and where they
might choose.
The evening before, Mrs. Barker was sitting
by herself in the pleasant sitting-room of her
mansion, apparently tost in thought. Clara had
retired, and Ellen was nowhere to be heard.
The whole house was uncommonly still.
Ellen had given much more than her usual
oftence that day, by receiving so much attention
from Louis, — a matter she had no power to re-
sist or avoid; and thus the spirits of her aunt
were not any too quiet. Indeed, had any one
had a fair opportunity to do so, he could have
observed that at moments her passion drove such
rich and vivid colors to her face, and caused her
dark eyes to sparkle and swim so strangely, that
she was not altogether herself.
At length she rose from her chair, and rang
the bell. A servant answered.
" Tell Miss Ellen that I wish she would come
here," said Mrs. Barker.
The maid shut the door, and hastened to obey
her.
In a moment or two, Ellen entered the room,
and took a seat not far from her aunt, upon a
low ottoman.
" I wished to say a few words to you to-night,
Ellen," began her aunt, "on the subject of the
party to-morrow."
" Yes, aunt," replied Ellen.
"You had, probably, thought of going, then?'*
asked Mrs. Barker.
" I have got myself all ready to go," said
Ellen, in reply.
Her aunt gave expression to an ejaculation in
an under tone.
" You had said nothing to me about it, I be-
lieve," persisted Mrs. Barker, "/have not been
advised of your going, I believe."
The pretty niece cast her eyes in all humility
npon the figure in the carpet, and offered nothing
in answer. She was in a state of novel and un-
expected excitement.
"Ellen," again began her aunt, this time in a
much graver and more distant tone, " I am very
anxious, if you are to remain with me, beneath
my own roof, loo, that yon should understand
properly the relation that exists between us."
The girl ventured to look up; but felt much
easier with her gaze fastened on the carpet.
" You are here, in my house," continued her
aunt, " dependent on ray kindness. I adopted
you as my own child the day you became an
orphan, rtsolved to do what I thought it my
conscientious duty to do for the only child of my
husband's brother. You are fatherless and mo-
therless, I know ; yet I determined, as I also
wished, that you should find parents in me ; or,
at least, what might be tliought almost their
equivalent. Now, see how differenth' you man-
age from what I had intended. Instead of ap-
pearing to be my dependent, as you know you
really are, you even set yourself above my own
daughter, and — "
"Aunt!" exclaimed Ellen.
" You will not seem content unless you are
permitted to exercise your authority over me!"
"O, aunt! My dear aunt!" sobbed the poor
girl, innocent in her heart of all such intention
as had been imputed to her.
" Now, I will have you understand one thing,
Miss Ellen," continued Mrs. Barker, freezingly,
" and that is, that if you stay here even another
day with mc, you must do as I wish. You must
thiow off your ah'S, and deport yourself more
meekly bythesideof Clara, especially when there
are gentlemen about. You seem to think they
all come to see yon, when you ought to know
that you are the last person in the house thought
of by them. Now, I wish to give you directions
for to-morrow."
Ellen looked up at this point. Her eyes were
glistening with tears.
"It is my wish that you do not go with the
party in the woods to-morrow, I prefer that you
stay at home. I conclude I have but to express
my wish to you, to have it regarded most re-
ligiously. This is all I wanted. You may leave
me now."
Ellen forthwith left die apartment, and retired
to her chamber.
Slie tlirew herself on the bed, burying her face
in the downy pillows. And for a full hour, she
sobbed and cried bitterly. The poor orphan
prayed — O, how she prayed ! — that she might, if
only for a single passionate moment, feel the
presence of her dead mother. It would have
been so sweet to have got a whisper of consola-
tion from her at that time.
She wept till she fell asleep. It was not until
late in the night that she awoke again, and found
her little lamp still burning upon the little table
on the other side of the room.
The next day came. Droves of gay young
folk were on foot, on thek- route to the distant
woods and meadows.
The sun shone brightly, and the air was tem-
pered by one of the pleasantest winds that ever
sailed gently through the air. The forest-leaves
had already begun to change their green for liv-
eries of a more gorgeous hue, made up with all
the colors that ever graced the rainbow.
They were many in number, and as gay as
numerous. On reaching the far-off" hill-side, just
before they took an old cart-path into the blazing
woods, they set up a shouting and singing, as if
for the very joy of the thing, till the still au-
tumnal morning was peopled with living echoes.
Ellen was silting at the window of her little
chamber. She had seen her cousin go away in
the company of Mr. Summerfield, and was sad-
dened to think what di'eadful suspicions of her
aunt only prevented her going witli them.
She saw them all as they deployed on the sun-
ny hill-side, and as they turned through the old
bars into the wood. And when the last form
dwindled, and dimmed, and finally vanished
from her sight altogether in the woods, tears
started again to her reddened and swollen eyes ;
and, bowing her head at last, they dropped
steadily into her lap.
Thus, for several hours, she continued. It was
but an alternation between tears and sad looks.
The vei-y day itself, beautiful, and golden, and
genial as it was, had no power to reconcile her
spirits to the gloom that had been suddenly
drawn, like a thick curtain, around them. There
was a dark bank of it between her and the sun.
She could not so much as see the sun. It did
not warm her. It had not the least power to
cheer her heart.
When Louis came for the girls that morning,
expecting to find both of them in readiness for
the day's excursion, he was sorry beyond mea-
sure to find that Ellen was kept at home, as her
aunt told him, by sudden indisposition; and he
did not hesitate so to express himself to Mrs.
Barker. So, leaving his regards for her, and
saying that he hoped she would soon recover, he
wended his way towaid the appointed rendez-
vous with Clara alone. Ellen saw them depart,
from the lonely seat at her window ; but her
heart wiis too full for tears. She only prayed in
silence that her aunt's cruel suspicions might
soon be rooted out.
They had a merry time of it in the woods all
day. They romped and roamed everywhere.
Some gathered the splendidly-colored autumn
leaves, the dying tints still upon them, intending
to press and arrange them again. Some gather-
ed the fallen chestnuts, picking them from the
thin -rass, and out of the prickly burrs. And
some sat down on the crisp, and golden, and vel-
vet mosses, chatting, and reading, and dreaming
in the genial warmth of the day. And others
were scattered about in groups, sailing hither
and thither as they felt disposed. It was a scene
calculated to inspire any one with fresh feelings.
Clara seemed to claim the particular escort of
Mr. Louis Summerfield all day. She appeared
unwilling to let him move, unless she was with
him. She certainly was envious of his slightest
attention to any one else present. And this was
none of it unnoticed by Louis himself. He was
b}' no means blind.
It, therefore, did not now take him long, other
revelations of a similar trifling character having
been already made, to form pretty nearly a clear
idea of the design Mrs. Barker might have in
her mind respecting him; and his suspicions
once awakened, especially as they furnished him
with little cause of flattery, there was no point or
plan that did not undergo his most rigid scrutiny,
" Was Ellen really sick that she could not come
with us to-day ?" asked he of himself.
Clara tried to be as entertaining as possible ;
but his mind was now set strangely in another
direction. He had no desire to be entertained.
He began to feel that others were making a mere
machine of him, in order to compass their own
ends.
When the sun's rays began to fall aslant in the
woods, they all made ready to move back to the
village again. It had been a beautiful day, and
heartily had they enjoyed it. By some means,
just at that time, however, Louis had left the
party, and wandered off by himself. He did not
know that they were yet planning to go. He
reached a little glen, perhaps a half mile from
where the rest were, and entered it. His mind
was full of the matter of Ellen's remaining at
home, which he firmly believed was compulsory.
Just as he reached the shadowed place, he
thought he saw a figure moving across the dis-
tant pathway. He sprang forward to see what
it was. His heart, even then, was full of strange
emotions. The figure stopped, he looked close-
ly. It was Ellen herself! In another moment
he was by her side.
" I had come to see if by some fortunate
chance I could not see you," said she, in reply
to his inquiry how she eame there alone.
" My heart is torn with strange and terrible feel-
ings. I am very unhappy ; and it has been
brought about because of you."
"Of 7He/" exclaimed Louis, "Do explain.
Do tell me all your trouble. Never have I
knowingly done an act that could bring wretch-
edness to your heart!" and he took her hand
passionately within his own.
She narrated to him the entire history of her
wrongs at the hands of her aunt.
" Then you were not kept at home by sick-
ness ?" said Louis.
" Only by sickness at heart. Aunt forbade
my coming with you here. More than that, she
charged me with wishing to usurp to myself at-
tention that was meant for Clara, I cannot bear
such suspicions. I cannot live under them ! It
is only to see you and to tell you all this, that I
came here. I am so glad I have found yon."
Louis offered her all his tenderest sympathies.
She was happier at even than in the morning.
He returned to the party, and found that they
had begun to stroll slowly homeward. When
they reached the house of Mrs. Barker, Ellen
was in her room again. Her aunt did not know
that she had gone out at all.
Louis took his leave a day or two aftei-wards ;
but he had hardly reached home when he sat
do\vn and addressed a letter to Ellen, Mrs.
Barker knew of it, and was angry beyond con-
trol. He received a letter from Ellen, not long
after, in reply. She acquainted him with the
fact that her aunt had obtained for her a situation
as teacher in a distant seminary.
It was commencement day at the university
to which Louis Summerfield belonged. He was
about to leave his alma mater's protection, and
try the voyage of the world's rough seas. He
mounted the spacious rostrum, and delivered the
speech he had prepared. All eyes were upon
him; but none were more proudly fixed than
those of Clara and her mother. But, unknown
to them, a pair of heavenly blue eyes were also
fixed on him. They belonged to Ellen ! She
had come there by his special request, though he
was ignorant of Mrs. Barker's intention to be
present with her daughter.
At the levee at the President's house that even-
ing, Louis Summerfield was observed with a
charming I'oung lady on his arm. They prome-
naded the rooms together. He saw Mrs. Barker
and Claj:a there, and hastened to introduce them
again to their old friend. The mother bit her
lips in rage, and Clara crushed her fan cruelly in
her hand. But it was in vain. They knew it
all too plainly.
Louis and Ellen were betrothed. In less than
three months afterwards, her uncle — her father's
brother, and a rich old bachelor — died, leaving
Ellen the bulk of his fortune. The lovers were
married. Ellen's aunt was at lai^t obliged to ac-
knowledge her neglected niece's worth, though it
cost her a pang, and the loss of a son-in-law.
252
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING Il(X)M COMPANION.
SURRENDER OF MARY, Ul/EEN OF SCOTH.
The large and vtry finely executed pietiirc
wliK'li wc pioscnt on this pni^e below, is a draw-
inf? by our artist from Mrs. Stimpson's elaborate
and very elegant piece of needle work, now on
exhibition at Aniory Hall, entitled the " Surren-
der of Mary, Queen of Scot.-.." The aiitliorcss
of this universally eommcnded and highly ex-
tolled picture in worsted, is the lady of Mr. C.
A. Stimpson, teller of the Merchants' Bank, of
this city, and is herself a native of St. John,
N. B. Mr. Stimpson is establishing a sort of
arts union, on a plan of his own, intended to ben-
efit all concerned, and to give labor to the needy,
industrious and respectable female. For this
purpose, he has organized and perfected a soci-
ety, already numbering a large share of our best
families in its list of members. And wc advise
our readers to give the subject their attention,
and possess themselves of a circular at the exhibi-
tion room — which
every one should
visit, if only to see
the superb picture
which our artist
has hercwitii illus-
trated for the Pic-
torial. The design
of this institution
is the encourage-
ment of a better
and more profit-
able system of em-
ployment among
those ladies who
have to toil inces-
santly to gain a
livelihood. It is
well known that
those who have to
toil, toil indeed,
for a mere pittance.
This noble institu-
tion commenced
its operation in
December last,
and has been the
means of furnish-
ing a great deal of
useful employ-
ment. Its receipts,
thus far, have been
about one thous-
and dollars, most
of which has been
expended. Many
ladies who have
been applied to,
seem to think that
they too must
work, which is not
the case. The de-
sign is for those
who are able to
subscribe, to do so,
and those who are
not able to sub-
scribe, to receive
the work and to be
paid liberally from
the subscription
fund thus raised
from those ladies
or gentlemen who
can best afford to
subscribe. Each
member of the in-
stitution is not only
entitled to a beau-
tiful book, equal
in value to his or
her subscription,
but is also entitled
to an engraving or
beautiful piece of
work at the end of
the year. The
pieces of work are
all executed under
the manager's su-
perintendence.
But what we have
mainly to consider
is this picture and
its Iheine ; it is but
oneof alargc num-
ber of very elabo-
rate scenes from
the same hands,
and that of other
artists in this line.
The scene here
rep -esented is that
of the famous historical painting of Mary, Queen
of Scots, as she appeared at Loch Leven Castle,
resigning her crown. The interesting incidentis
given with much minuteness by Abliot, in his
excellent Life of Mary. The unfortunate queen
had been committed to Loch Leven Castle, by
her enemies, to the keeping of Lady Douglass, a
bitter foe. They selected her castle as the place
of Mary's confinement, partly on this account,
and partly on account of its inaccessible position
in the midst of the waters of the lake. They de-
livered the captive queen, accordingly, to the
Lady Douglass and her husband, charging them
to keep her safely. The Lady Douglass received
her, and locked her up a prisoner in the octago-
nal tower of the castle. At this juncture she
was overwhelmed in a sea of troubles. All Scot-
land took_sides for or against her. The strong-
est party were against her; and the Church was
against her, on account of their hostility to the
Catholic religion. A sort of provisional govcrn-
incnt was instituted, which assumed the manage-
ment of public affairs. Mary had, however.
sonic fricndfl, and they soon began to assemble
in order to see wliat could lie done for hercimse.
Their rendezvous was at the palace of Hamilton.
This i)ahicc was situated on a plain in the miclst ■
of a beautiful park, near the rivei" Clyde, a few
miles from Glasgow. The Duke of Iliimilton
was ])romincnt among the supporters of the
queen, antl made Iiis house then" head(|uarters.
They were often called, from this circumstance,
the Hamilton lords. On the other hand, the
party opposed to Mary made the cjistlc of Stir-
ling their hcad(iuarters, bec^ausc the young prince
was there, in whose name they were proposing
soon to assume the government. Their plan
was to depose Mary, or induce her to abdicate
the throne, and then to make Earl Murray —
Mary's half brother, at first her friend and coun-
sellor, though afterwards her unrelenting perse-
cutor— regent, to govern the country in the
name of the prince, her son, until the prince
There were three instruments of abdication pre-
pared for her to sign. By one she resigned the
crown in favor of lier son. By the second nlie
appointed Murray to be regent as soon as he
should return from France. By the third she
appointed commissioners to govern the country
until MuiTay should return. They knew that
Mary would be extremely unwilling to sign these
papers, and yet that they must contrive, in some
way, to obtain her signature without any open
violence ; for the signature, to be of legal force,
must be, in some sense, her voluntary act. The
two commissioners whom tiicy sent to her were
Melville and Lindsay. Melville was a thouglit-
ful and a reasonable man, who had long been in
Mary's service, and who possessed a great share
of her confidence and good will, Lindsay was,
on the other hand, of an overbearing and violent
temper, of very rude speech and demeanor, and
was known to be unfriendly to the queen. They
SURRENDER OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
should become of age. During all this time
Murray had been ab.sent in France, but now they
sent urgent messages to him to return. He
obeyed the summons, and turned his face toward
Scotland. In the meantime, Mary continued in
confinement in her little tower in the castle.
The Hamilton lords were not strong enough to
attempt her rescue. The weight of influence
and power throughout the country went grad
ually and irresistibly into the other scale. There
were great debates among the authoruies of gov-
ernment as to what should be done. The Ham-
ilton lords made proposals in behalf of Mary
which the government could not accede to.
Other proposals were made by different parties
in the councils of the insurgent not)les, some
more and some less hard for the captive queen.
The conclusion, however, finally was, to urge
Mary to resign her crown in favor of her son,
and to appoint Murray, when he should return,
to act as regent till the prince should be of age.
They accordingly sent commissioners to Loeh
Leven to propose these measures to the queen.
hoped that Mary would be induced to sign the
papers by Melville's gentle persuasions ; if not,
Lindsay was to see what he could do by denun-
ciations and threats. When the two commis-
sioners arrived at the castle, Melville alone went
first into the presence of the queen, lie opened
tlic subject to her in a gentle and respectful man-
ner. He laid before her the distracted state of
Scotland, the uncertain and vague suspicions
flivoiingin tliepul)lic mind on the subjectof Darn-
ley's murder, and the irretrievable shade which
had been thrown over her position by her unhap-
py marriage with Bothwcll ; and he urged her to
consent to the proposed measures, as the only
way now left to restore peace to the land. Mary
Iieard him patiently, but replied that she could
not consent to his proposal. By doing so, she
should not only sacrifice her own" rights, and de-
gnide herself "from the position she was entitled
to occupy, but she should, in some sense, ac-
knowledge lierself guilty of the charges brought
against her, and justify her enemies. Melville,
finding that his efforts wore vain, called Lindsay
in. He entered with a fierce and determined air.
Mary was reminded of the terrible night when
lie and Ruihven broke into her little supper
room at Holyrood in (juest of Rizzio. She wa3
agitated and alarmed. Lindsay assailed her
with denunciations and threats of the most vio-
lent character. There ensued a scene of the
most rough and ferocious pa-esions on the one
sicie, and of anguish, terror and despair on the
other, which i^ said to have made the day the
most wretched of all the wretched days of Mary's
lile. Sometimes she sat pale, motionless, and
almost stupefied. At others, she was over-
whelmed with sorrow and tears. She finally
yielded ; and, taking the pen, she signed the pa-
pers. Lindsay and Melville took them, left the
castle gate, entered their boat, and were rowed
away to the shore. This was on the 2rnh of
July, L'J67, and four days afterward the young
prince was crowned at Stirling. His title was
James VI. Lind-
say made oath at
the coronation that
he was a witness
of Mary's abdica-
tion of the crown
in favorof her son,
and that it was her
own free and vol-
untary act. James
was about one year
old. The corona-
tion took place in
the chapel where
Mary had been
crowned in her in-
fancy, about twen-
ty-five years be-
fore. Maryherself,
though uncon-
scious of her own
coronation, weep-
ed bitterly over
that of her son.
Unhappy mother !
how little was she
aware, when her
heart was filled
with joy and glad-
ness at his birth,
that in one short
year his mere ex-
istence would fur-
nish toherenemies
the means of con-
summating and
sealing her ruin.
After her abdica-
tion, however, she
grew restive in the
confinement t o
which she was sub-
jected. She re-
mained during the
winter in captivity,
earnestly desiring
to find some way
of escape, although
warned that such
an attempt would
bring great danger
upon her, and in-
volve her in still
deeper trouble.
Still she knew
there must be
manywho remain-
ed steadfast in her
cause, and hoped
that if once out of
her prison, they
would rally around
her, and she might,
perhaps, regain her
throne. But strict-
ly watched, as she
was, and in a pris-
on surrounded by
the waters of a
lake, the effort
seemed hopeless.
However, the at-
tempt was made ;
a plan was ripened,
she escaped from
the cflstle, but her
disguise was pene-
trated, and she was
again remanded to
captivity. Here
she remained un-
der a stricter watch
until another op-
which was more successful. Popular
feeling swayed in her favor, and she was shortly
at the head of an army of six thousand men.
A battle was fought wirh the forces under Earl
Murray arrayed against her; lier troops were de-
feated, and finally, after passing through many
vicissitudes of sorrow, she perished on the scaf-
fold, in 1587. The tomb of Mary is still seen
in Westminster Abbey, where her remains were
placed by her son James, when he succeeded to
the English throne. The castle of Loch Leven,
the scene of this imforlunate queen's captivity,
is now a solitary ruin. The waters of the loch
have been lowered by means of an excavation of
tlie outlet, and a portion of the land has bean
left bare around the walls, which Ims been plant-
ed with trees. Tlie courtyard is overgrown with
weeds, and encumbered with fallen stones and
old foundations. The square tower, though
roofless, still stands. The octagonal tower which
Mary occupied remains ; I)ut the chapel is gone,
though its oullines im\y bo still traced in the
ruins of its walls.
]50rtunity.
GLEASONVS PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
253
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEiNTS OB^ OUR NEXT MTJIKER.
" The Secret Sign," a sketch of the Southern Cam-
paigns," a story, by Mrs. M. E. Robinsox.
" The Happy Mistake, or the Fortunes of a Poor Cous-
in," a story, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.
"Turkey and the Turks," No. Vtl, deficriptire of the
Seraglio, by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Travels in Palestine," No. IX of the series, relating to
tho Environs of Jerusalem, by Hev. F. W. Holland.
"Autographs and Autography," No. Till, by William
Edward Knowles, giving the signatures of George R Gra-
ham, Charles J. Peterson, L. A. Godey, Andrew Jackson
Davis, Andrew McMakin, Louis Bl;inc, Epes Sargent, J. Q,
Adams and George 1*. Morris.
" The Light from the West," verses, by Sdsas H. Blais-
DELL.
'• The Fall of the Leaf," lines, by Joseph H. Bdtler.
"Don't give up the Ship," a poem, by C. G. Dunn.
" Shades of Evening," lines, by 0. Hardy, Jr.
"My Answer," verses, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" Good-by, Mama," lines, by Mrs, M. W. Curtis.
"Obscurity," a poem, by J. Starr Hollaway.
" An Angel in the Clouds," verses, by Geo. \V. Buxgat.
ILLUSTBATIONS.
"We shall g^ve our readers a very capital representation
from life, of Billy Bowltgd and bis companions, of the
Seminole Indians, as they lately appeared in New York.
Drawn by our artist, Mr. Chapia.
A characteristic and large picture, representing the fa-
mous Dog Market, of Paris.
Also, a large and interesting scene, giving a view of the
Bird Market, of Paris.
A very elaborate and beautiful series of pictures, rela-
tive to the City of Worcester, Mass.
First, a very accurate view of the State Lunatic Asylum,
by our artist, Mr. Manning.
Second, a fine view of Lincoln Square, Worcester, show-
ing the new Antiiiuarian Hall, the old and new Court
Houses, and the tuitarian Church. By our artist, Mr.
KUbum.
Third, a fac-simile of the Belt worn by King Philip,
sketched by our artist, Mr. Kiibarn^ and now in the An-
tiquarian Hall, Worcester.
Fourth, a picture representing Tomahawks, of various
shapes, specimens of wliich our artist found in the Anti-
quarian ilali, us above.
Fifth, a drawing of the Moccafina worn by the famous
■wariior and Indian king, Tecumseh, by our artist, as
above.
Sixth, a portrait of Richard Mather, the first of the Ma-
thers in America. Drawn by our ai ti.it, Mr. Kilburn^ from
the original now in the .vuticioariau Hall.
Seventh, a fine portrait, as above by our artist, of John
Rogers, the martjr, burnt at the stake in 1565.
Eighth, a fac-simile of the Pipe used by the Rocky
Mountain Indians. Drawn by our artist, from the origi-
nal, in tbe Antiquarian Hall.
Ninth, a fac-simile, by our artist, of the Comb used by
the same tribe of Indians, as found iu this exhibition.
Tenth, a drawing of the original style of the Indian
Tomahawk, drawn by our artUt, as above.
A fine illustration of our Novelette, by Frederick Hun-
ter, now publishing in our columns.
An interesting engraving of a new and excellent style of
lafe Boat. A spirited picture.
A characteristic picture of a Burmese Soldier. A very
capital scene.
A large and (■uperb drawing, by our artist, Mr. Chapin^
of Costoli's Columbus Group. An elegant engraving.
France. — Our foreign exchangei are full of
the regal doings in celebration of Louis Napo-
leon's tour through the south of France. This
fickle nation seem delighted that Napoleon the
Utile has successfully swindled them, and so
" toss high their caps in air !"
SPLINTERS.
.... Some one says that all cows once wore
calfskins boots. Very probable.
.... Mrs. Sinclair, since her return from
England, has been playing in Philadelphia.
.... The Hon. Thomas Baring has been
most courteously received at Washington.
.... The Boston Museum is doing a sure, re-
liable business, and is very popular.
.... Mrs. Sanderson, of Lexington, Mass., is
now in her hundred and fifth year!
A tunnel under the Hudson at Albany is
seriously talked of.
Mt. Washington has been white with
snow for more than three weeks.
.... The population of Paris, France, is set
down at one million of souls.
The Londoners, for the first time, we be-
lieve, are complaining of mosquitoes.
. . . , Will somebody (unknown to us) please
be thanked for a fragrant bouquet?
.... Julia Bennett plays with a most irresist-
ible naivete at the Museum.
.... The stock company at the Howard
Athenaium improve on acquaintance.
There are now four hundred and thirty-
six students in Yale College.
THE IRON DUKE.
So the proudest soldier of old England is dead,
the hero of Waterloo, the conqueror of Napo-
leon, and the favorite of the qutcn and the peo-
ple of Great Britain. We see by the foreign
papers that his decease has created a profound
sensation, and that all classes are striving to do
his memory honor. Doubtless our readers will
thank us for refreshing their memories touching
the life and career of this military chieftain.
Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, fourth
son of the second Earl of Mornington, was born
at Dangan Castle, county of Meaih, Ireland,
May 4, 1769, and died at Walmer Castle, Eng-
land, Tuesday, Sept. 14, 1852. Receiving the early
part of his education at Eton, lie afterwards went
to the military college at Angiers. He became
Captain Wellesley in 1793, and in 1797 distin-
guished himself as Colonel Wellesley at the
storming of Seringapatam. In 1802, as General
Wellesley, he gained further successes in the
Mahratta war ; and in 1802 won the famous field
of Assaye. As Sir Arthur Wellesley, he obtain-
ed great distinciion in 1S08 and '9 in the Penin-
sular war. — After the battle of Talavera, and the
passage of the Douro, he received, August 20,
the honor of a peerage, by the title of Baron
Douro and Viscount Wellington, Parliament
voted him thanks and a pension of £2000 a year.
In 1813 he was created the Marquis of Wel-
lington by the prince regent. The battle of Tou-
louse, which terminated Wellington's seventh
peninsular campaign, was fought after Napoleon
had abdicated. The buttle of Waterloo put the
apex to tlie pyramid of his military renown. In
1814 he took his seat in the House of Lords.
On the 12th May of that year, it was voted by
the House of Commons tliat the sum £10,000 be
annually paid the " Duke of Wellington." This
was afterwards commut\?d for half a million ster-
ling.— The passing of the reform bill may be
said to have been the closing of the duke's politi-
cal life. A London paper closes an article on
the great warrior as follows :
" When men in after times shall look hack to the annals
of EngKand for e?mmples of energy and public virtue
among those who have raised this country to her station
on the earth, no name will remain more conspicuous or
more unsullied than that of Arthur Wellesley, the great
Duke of Wellington. The actions of his life were extra-
ordinary, but his character was equal to his actions. He
was the very type and model of an Englishman ; and al-
though men are prone to invest the worthies of former
ages with a dignity and merit they commonly withhold
from their coutemponiries, we can select none from the
long arriiy of our captains and our nobles who, taken for
all in all, can claim a rivalry with him who is gone &om
amongst us, an inheritor of imperishable fame.-'
THE PREilUUM FOWLS.
It will be remembered that last week we gave
a fine picture of the premium fowls exhibited at
the Utica State Fair. D. P. Newell, of Roches-
ter, Munroe Co., N. Y., received the first pre-
mium on the occasion, and though our picture
gave Jlr. Newell's fine Canton cock and hen and
Dorking cock and hen, his name was omitted,
as being the breeder and owner of them. He
received the first premium for the best lot of pure
bred fowls — SIO; also the first on wliite Surry
Dorkings. The first premium were also award-
ed him for the best coop of fowls. In this coop
were one pair each of fine Cochin Chinas,
white Shanghaes, black Shanghaes; also the firsr
premium on Canton or China fowl, buff Shang-
haes, white Shanghaes, and black Shanghaes.
Mr. Newell was awarded some second premiums
on other varieties. There was but one opinion
in reference to his stock of poultry. His superb
specimens were probably the finest ever exhibit-
ed by one person in the State of New York.
Gleason's Pictorial — There is no paper or magazine
we receive, which can compare with this incomparable
sheet. As a litersiry paper, it numbers among its con-
tributors many of the very best and most pohshed writers
of the country ; nnd as a paper devoted to illustrations, it
stands far ahead of all rivals. The attention paid to this
department is great, and its readers are weekly surprised
and gratitied with :he boldncHS of conception, and the ar-
tistical genius displaced in the execution of each picture.
—Mitford Htrald.
SosTAG. — We are to have this queen of song
at the Melodeon soon. What a music-loving
people we are ! Pierpont was right, speaking of
music :
'■ Wlio ne'er hath felt her hand assuasivc steal
Along his heart, that heart can never feel ! '
A Warning. — There is a scoundrel travelling
in Indiana and the West, who signs himself A. C.
Ewing, La Fayette, Ind., and represents himself
as our agent. He has no connection with this
establishment, nor have we ever employed him.
Liberal ! — American newspapers are now
prohibited altogether in Cuba.
Tremont Temple. — We rejoice to see that
this building is fast being completed.
OUR CONTRIBUTIONS.
We trust that the subscribers of the Pictorial
read with interest and protit the very graphic and
faithful series of articles, now publishing in these
pages (and which we frequently illustrate), from
the pen of Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith. The same
remark may apply to the very valuable series of
letters from Palestine, by Rev. F. W. Holland,
which have already reached to No. VIU. The
autographs, too, which have been given, have
formed a new and peculiar feature of our paper
for some time past. All these cost a heavy out-
lay of money, and a great expense of time and
attention to produce for the gratification of our
readers. We believe that the patrons of the
Pictorial can discern between commonplace ma-
terial and really valuable reading matter, which
literally instructs, while it amuses and entertains.
We believe, too, that it requires no boasting, or
selfpufling, to lead them to discover the intrinsic
merit of our literary department.
Tlie names that so frequently appear at the
head of our original articles, are a guarantee of
the character and the contents of the paper. No
articles are accepted for the paper unless they
are worth paying for, and all are paid for that
appear. It has been the practice of some of our
weekly publications to print any sketch, prose or
poetic, they could possess themselves of without
cost, and thus a mass of miserable twaddle is
palmed otF upon the public by a class of un-
fledged literary aspirants, that is calculated to
ditgust all sensible people.
Let it be remembered that no person labors
for this paper without full remuneration; we
do not want any but known and experienced
writers for its columns, and such always find us
ready and willing to consider their articles, and
when accepted, to pay for them liberally. It is
well, when there is so much spurious matter
afloat, that our readers should be made fully
aware of these facts, so important to their and
our own interests.
BINDING THE PICTORIAL.
We are still constantly binding volumes 1st
and 2d of the Pictorial in the most beautiful
style; gilt edges and back, and illumined sides,
with a rich frontispiece and correct index, for
one dollar, at our office of publication in Boston.
Our agents, Samuel French, 151 Nassau street.
New York; A. Winch, 116 Chestnut street, Phil-
adelphia; Burgess, Taylor & Co., Ill Balti-
more street, Baltimore, and A. C. Bagley, 10
West Third street, Cincinnati, will receive the
numbers and bind them in the same style for
SI 25, being an addition of twenty-five cents for
cost of transportation. This will enable many
of our subscribers who are located at a great dis-
tance from our publishing office, to avail them-
selves of our cheap terms of binding, and to pre-
serve their papers in an available and ornamental
form for reference. Any back numbers of the
paper may still be obtained as above, to com-
plete broken files, or to replace injured numbers.
Advertise. — Give me, said an ancient phi-
losopher, where to stand, and with a lever I will
move the earth. Men of business, employ this
lever — advertise, and you may move the world
where you will. N. B. — This is disinterested
advice, inasmuch as we do not advertise in the
Pictorial for any one.
Political. — The presidency is my oyster,
and I will open it, said a stalwort general, no
matter where or when. Whereupon down went
his oyster out of sight; and the tall general,
after a few brandishes of his sword, opened his
— eyes !
Heraldry. — There are various coats of arms,
but no particular coat of honor; for honor may
want a coat, or be found in all coats, and is a
badge as illustrious upon the shoulders of an
apple-seller as when it adorns a State Street
merchant.
" The King op the Sea ; a Tale fffhe Fear-
less and Free," by Ned Buntline. — We have
just issued a new edition of this popular book,
long since out of print.
Postage. — To regular subscribers the postage
of this paper is only one half cent each to any part
of the United States, according to the new law.
Boston Military. — The first regiment of
infantry are in a very efficient condition at this
present moment, under Colonel Holbrook.
Wanted. — Two or three first rate agents for
the Flag and Pictorial.
In this city, by Kev. Dr. Eaton, Samuel Kettell, Esq.,
to Miss Lois Jane Rohbins.
By Rev. Mr. Kirk, Mr. Oliver S. Lyford, of New York,
to Miss Lovina A. Norris.
By Rev Mr. Bosworth, Mr. William H. Wood to Miss
Martha E. Morton.
By Rev. Dr. Frotbingham, Dr. Joseph 11. Foster, of New
York, to Miss Mary Frotbingham.
At Chelsea, by Rev. Mr. Damon, Mr. James L. Pink-
ham to Miss Caroline A. Bennett, both of Boston.
At Newburyport, by Rev Dr. Withington, Mr. Elijah P.
White, of Georgetown, to Miss Lydia D. Coffin.
At North Middleboro', by Rev. Mr Bliss, Mr. Thomas
D. Stjill, of Taunton, to Miss Mary L. Pratt.
At Fall River, by Rev. Mr. Mason, Mr. Leander A. De-
vol to Miss Mary Maria Beers.
At South Berwick, Me., Mr. Reuben W. Drew, of Salmon
Falb, N. H., to Miss Susan M. Ham, of Dover, N. H.
At Portland, Me , by Rev. Dr. Dwight, Mr. Edward E.
Ficket to Miss Harriet S. Maynard.
At Hancock, N. H., by Rev. Mr. Bigelow, Mr. Joel H.
Hills, of Boston, to Miss Edwina Pranceaca Bugbee.
At Brattleboro', Vt., Robert Perkins, M. D., of Adrian,
Mich., to Mr.1. Celia M. Herbert, of Northfield, Mass.
At Springfield, Vt , Mr. Royal B. Stearns, of Woodstock,
to Miss bVances H. Porter.
At I'rovidence, R. [., Mr. Henry F. Alien, of Boston, to
Miss Susan Harmus, of Kew Bedford.
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Mr. Philip H. Stevens to Miss Lue
J. Stoddard-
At Columbus, N. Y., by Rev. Mr. Bowdish, Mr. Theodore
H. Cone, of iSew Berlin, to Miss Harriette Kennedy.
In this city, Mrs. Josephine Theresa Ballard, 48 : Mrs.
Rebecca Armstrong Williams, 72 ; vvilliam Kmery Seaver,
10; Mr. George 0. Harvey, 26: Miss Eli/Jibeth Kelsey, of
Deer Isle, Me., 20; Mr. Frederick 0. Smith, of Norfolk,
Va., 22 ; Miss Matilda Davis Goodrich, 17 ; Mr. Thomas T.
Hayden, 34 ; Miss Susan Oxford, 26.
At Rosburv, Benjamin Weld, Esq., 84.
At Charlestown, Mrs Sarah M. Hoyt, 2G.
At Somerville, Mrs. Abigail Jackson, 90.
At Chelsea, Widow Mary Pratt, 95.
At Dorchester, Caroline D., wife of Mr. James Sirret, 25.
At Saugus, Dr. C. A. Cheever, of Portsmouth, N. H., 68.
A'., Lynn, Fredericka P., youngest daughter of Mr. Fred-
erick C. Hanson, 1 jcar and 5 months.
At Quincy, Mrs. Sarah HallstRim, 72.
At Cohassett, Mr. Henry Pratt, 71.
At Salem, Mrs. Mary Butman, 53.
At Marblehead, Mr. John Coll>er, 84.
At Holliston, Mr. Asa E^isfc, 73-
At East Walpole, Mrs. Martha Newell Bird, 81.
At West Newbury, Mrs. Lydia Merrill Poore, 80.
At Weston, Mr. Stephen Abrahams, 71-
At Pittsfield, Mrs. Susan Cobb, 72.
At Stoughton, Mr. William George, 76.
At Sterhng, Mary, wife of Dr E. Lyon, of Essex, Ct., 27.
At Wells, Me., Capt. Moses Wells 75.
At Keene, N. H., Eliphalet Hale, Esq., 78.
At Stratham, N. H., Hon. James Foss, 50.
At Washington, Dr. T. P. Baldwin, of Vershire, Tt., 28.
At Milwaukie, Prof. Amasa Buck, 67.
At Rockton, 111., Martha, wife of Rev. S G. Randall, 31.
^ sipaiEia'iDEi iPHES^aiiia
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL
A Jlecord of the beautiful and vseful in Art.
Tlie object of this p.iper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary niel.mgo of notable
events of tlie day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cre.im of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of tbe world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in tlie known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with tine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also bo
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, tlie birds of the air, and the fish of the eoa. It is
printed on fine satin-stirface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contuins fifteen hundred and .'^i.Kty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it allords, and tho rich ari-iy cf origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest ai,Ll
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil iu its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TERMS: S2 00 PES VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
INT.\IIIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing oa
the l.Pit of Januai-y and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
in?^ One copy of the Flag op our Umon, and one copy
of the Pictorial Drawikg-Eooji Coupamox, one lear,
for So 00.
\lZr' The Pictorial Dra wing-Room Companion uiay be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout t'le
country, and of newsmen, at tat cejils per single topy
Published every S.vtl'rday, by
F. GLEASON, Boston, M.vhs.
WHOLESALE AGENTC.
B. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WaNCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & CO., Ill Baltimore St., BaJtimore
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(C7=" Subscriftlionx received at fither oj Che afwvp plttctf.
254
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
[Wrlthrn for GloiiHOn'w Pictorliil.] .
AUTUMN WINDS.
The iiutunin wiudH iiro WJiilinK now o'or llclds of rlpcnod corn,
Whicii bright in yellow beiiuU!tm»noHs tho dlHtjinct-H adorn j
And ncnv tho Hilvitry Bpirit volro of Huniaier'H parting hr«t'/«
Until Hung its pliilntlvu untliuni mid tho iuhIuh of wltl)i<n;d trvos;
And a warning voice Ih whlsporing to the erring child of clay,
" Y« are passing! yu aro pawwing, like the fading luaven, away !"
Tho bright, green hair that dci^ked the head of many an aged tree,
Like Bnow-du.it falling, rlothes the brt^ast of uioadow-liind and lea ;
And now yo little Piuniner birdrt, go ecek uuother cllnio,
For the autumn windH are wailing with a sad and doleful chuuo;
And their melanclioly niut^ic Rcerae imploringly to say,
" Prepare ye for the future ! yo are paasing all away !"
Wail on ! wail on I yo autumn winda '. though rudely yo do bear
The fltalwort wood-kings of their leaves by cool and trunchant air,
And force tho little summer birdu, at close of nummor time,
To leave their warm and happy homes and seek another clime ;
Still thou dost over teach to man that all that 'a briglit must fade,
That all that *8 beautiful of earth must in the tomb be laid!
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No VIII.
BY REV. F. W. HOLLAND.
JERUSALEM.
The Armenian church, on the spot where St. James was be-
headed, is the richest clmrch in Jerusalem, because its members
are tho principal bankers and great merchants of Syria. At ves-
pers their Persian rugs were quite covered with a kneeling crowd
— the women worshipping separately from the men, as is the cus-
tom even in the American churches in Palestine. Hundreds of
lamps of every pattern, material and size hang from the ceil-
ing, along with ostrich eggs, and quantities of poor gilding and
execrablepaintings hiding the walls. The Syrian church, though
far poorer, was also curious in tlie same way for its want of every
kind of taste, of solemnity as well as beauty. In what was once
a Latin church, but now the ante-chamber of a very holy mosque,
the scene of the Last Supper is placed by tradition ; and, as I un-
derstood the interpreter, beneath is the tomb of David, which
neither Jew nor Christian is permitted to see, as the place is hal-
lowed by a peculiar sanctity.
The houses of Annas and Caiaphas — two convents connected
with these names for want of a better— were visited to close the
Christian curiosities of the city. Like all establishments of the
kind in Syria, they tell their own tale of peril and injury— a low,
iron door affording the only entrance through a solid wall of
great height, and that being kept fastened day and night. On
one occasion, Old Maundrell tells us that the nuns of a Syrian
convent, dreading defilement by the Saracens who were storming
the town, followed the example of their abbess, and so mangled
their faces, as to prompt no other desire in the lustful conquerors
than of completing the work of blood which had begun, " thus
restoring them," says he, " to an inviolable beauty in the other
world."
Among the places of Jewish memory none interested me more
than the pool of Bethesda, a dry reservoir three hundred and sixty
feet by one hundred and thirty, with two lofty arched vaults, that
reminded one of the "porches" in which the sick waited for the
moving of the waters, but were really built to support streets,
which now cross the basin and cut off nearly half its ancient lim-
its. It is some seventy feet below the street, with an altogether
neglected look, and a few wild trees scattered in its deep enclos-
ure. There has been no water within it for centuries, though its
sides arc coated with cement so as to make it a perfect reservoir,
nor any means of access ; but it is close against the outer walls of
the temple, so that the boiling up which the impotent man had
been looking for so long, may have been occasioned by the dis-
charge from the temple of the water and blood poured out at the
annual sacrifice. Dr. Robinson imagines this only the ditch
around the tower of Antonia — but the cistern-like coating upon
the sides of it, seems to me to settle the question in favor of tradi-
tion.
The ancient court of the Gentiles you arc not permitted to en-
ter, hardly to look within. It is the most sacred spot ia tlie Mos-
lem faith after Mecca, as from its centi'C stone, where Jacob was
thought to have slept, Maliommed leaped up into heaven. From
the Mount of Olives you have a perfect view of the whole interior,
and can witness every day, and at every hour of the day, men en-
gaged in prayer, or the preparatory ablutions, under the shade of
orange, olive and cypress-trees, and beneath the walls of the fa-
mous mosques, Omar and El-Achsa. The best autliorities con-
sider that the present area is about the size of Solomon's, that the
central mosque erected by the Caliph Omar occupies tlie site of
the Jewish Holy of Holies, and that the arches visii)le at one cor-
ner of tne court, date back to tlie time of Herod, if not to that of
So'omon.
The less elegant mosque, Kl-Achsa, is supposed to be the
Christian church erected in the sixth century by the Emperor
Justinian. As the form of a temple of that period is still pre-
served witliin, as that building occupied such a prominent posi-
tion as could have been found at no other part of Jerusalem, as
the Saracen conquerors are more likely to have taken pride in
erecting the crescent over the cross than in entirely destroying the
trophy of their conqucKt, iii'm is prol>abIy a relic of the worship of
the virgin.
But the grand structure la the fairest thing in Jerusalem, and
one of the most fairy-like bnihllngs in the world. The fiict of Its
being eigiit-sided and of a bluish-white marble, led mc to expect
nothing of grace or magnificence. But while you will search the
world in vain for so glorious a 'plaifDrm " for a nation's cathe-
dral, the material cx(|uisitcly becomes the lofiy place which it oc-
cupies, as if it were an enthroned cloud ; and its dome looks just
ready to iloat away into the azin-e depths, wliich seem its native
home. No structure tluit ever stood over this unquarried rock
could hnvc had such a heavenly look, tliough the original temple
had, of course, a diviner conscerution and a special acceptance
with the Most Higli.
The liheralizing spirit of the nineteenth century will achieve no
more gracious task than wlien it shall throw open this jcalously-
ginirdcd sanctuary to Christian feet. Great discoveries may yet
remain to be made within its unvisited vaults. It is liardly possi-
ble that the Jews would have themselves destroyed the sacred
relies, vessels and records within tlie temple at the time of its
capture by tlic Romans. Neither was Titus such a barbarian as
to have wilfully made an end of these tablets and sacred memo-
rials, Far more probably, they were buried in some of those deep
vaults on which tlic temple was erected, and their hiding-place
was buried, too, from human knowledge by the teiTible carnage
which washed out the sin of the nation in a sea of blood. Very
possibly our own countrymen, having rendered a liitherto unat-
tempted service, to the world, by tlie thorough examination of tlic
Jordan, and by perfecting our knowledge of the Dead Sea, may
make still more interesting discoveries on this luillowcd area, and
bring to light the unquestionable seals of a most ancient revela-
tion.
At the foot of the side wall of the temple enclosure, I saw the
saddest sight in all the world — the Jews assembled on their weekly
day of wailing, I'cading the penitential prophets, repeating the pe-
titions of the psalms, mourning over their "beautiful house," and
praying passionately for its restoration — weeping profusely, and
beating their heads against the stones. The females seemed
deeply affected, the younger children, of course, were little better
than lookers-on, but some noble old men made the spectacle im-
posing in the extreme by a silence like despair. I did not need
to ask if they believed what they were reading of the coming of
the Redeemer, because a room cannot be let or hired among them
without reference to this event, which is understood to annihilate
all contracts ; and I could not fail to pity and lionor this unwav-
ering fidelity to the faith of their fathers. Watched as they are,
everywhere oppressed, every way wronged, tlie old stories of their
murdering Christian children for their sacrifice being still kept
alive at Damascus, Constantinople and other places, it is found
almost impossible to change the faith of a Jew.
TIic Jewish quarter of the city no one can mistake. "When my
wanderings through a number of well-paved streets brought me
into some muddy lanes, full of all sorts of holes and choked up
with rubbish and filth, I knew into what neighborhood I had fallen,
even before a funeral procession came along, the body home on
men's shoulders in an open coffin and the dress of life, the wildest
train of followers straggling and wading behind. Imagine all
the rejected garments, worn-out boots, brimless bats and heathen-
ish caps of Christian garretdora to marcli in Indian file through a
floating mass of decay and ruin, and some shadow can he caught
of this gloomy ceremony. Their wild eyes, untrimmed beards,
haggard looks, set off the tattered 'dress to perfection, and made
me shudder as I encountered them alone at nightfall. Coming to
this Holy City in advanced years, that tliey may die upon the
spot where the trumpet of redemption is to first sound abroad,
their funds are frequently exhausted when they arrive; and, if
not, the Turk marks them out for systematic spoliation, while
few means of support arc oy>cn to tliem, and the indulgence of
pious feeling in reverie, prayer and the study of the Talmud is
more natural under the circumstances than any labor. I am glad
that their prospered brethren in this country remember their ne-
cessities, and amongst the help sent from abroad to a really help-
less and still oppressed race, that of America occupies an honor-
able place. If Christianity is to work in amongst them, I believe
it must be first of all by treating them generously, by remember-
ing that they furnished the Founder and first missionaries of our
faith, who could be found nowhere else, and that this noble ser-
vice has been rewarded hitherto only by disgracing them as felons,
hunting them down as highwaymen, and keeping them through-
out Christendom a degraded, and therefore a hating race.
At the Zion gate sit, as of old, the veritable lepers, tempting us
to cry " unclean, unclean," and loosing our purse-strings in sym-
pathy for that disease which so often received the pity of Him,
who is remembered still in some parts of Palestine as the Great
Physician. There appear to be two forms of the malady, in one
of which it is not contagious, but in both it might bo modified
and gradually subdued by those early habits of cleanliness, which
the Jew lias neglected ever since his tribes went forth like the
dove seeking in vain for a resting-place to her feet. At present,
no pains appear to be taken either for cure or prevention. In-
fected persons withdraw from society as ihcy did in ancient time,
live in community with one another, marry and raise up fami-
lies to perpetuate wliat they believe to be a divine judgment, and
go down to an unwept grave, after, say fifteen years of constantly
increasing wretchedness — afiiicling evidence certainly of tlie truth
of their history, since the spirit which animated them thousands
of years ago has not materially changed, nor appears likely to
change If the old Roman was right, and the noblest life-picture
is "the good man struggling against adversity," how much more
noble is tlie sight of a whole people constantly under the liarrow
of persecution, yet never crushed — without a country, a temple,
an altar, or a home, and yet full of faith, as when their Jerusalem
was the "joy of all the earth," their Solomon the praise of the
world.
[■\Vritti-n for Gleaflon'fl Pictorial,]
AUTOGIIAPIIS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGTHSHED INDIVrDUALS.
N... vn.
BY WM. KUWAKD KNOWLEB.
Mn. LuNT, of Massachusetts, is a more tlian ordinary poet
He is known as a writer of more than common force and gran-
deur. His handwriting is bold and massive, and without hair
strokes. It is also very illegible.
CiiAnLES West Thomson has written many poems that are
characterized by a tenderness of expression seldom equalled.
His manuscripts are cleiir, rolling and extremely legible. Still it
is entirely without the force and decision necessary to become a
(jrenl poet. No one can read the most of his poems without ad-
miring them.
The handwriting of Mrs. Esling seems to he performed after
some schoolday model, and continued the same ever since.
When such is the case, it is utterly impossible to discover any in-
dications of cliaracter from that alone. She has written many
beautiful poems, whicli have had a due amount of popularity.
Her manuscripts are very legible.
The chirography of Mrs. Ellet is very different from that of
Mrs. Esling. It is much neater, and more forcible. Her contri-
butions are chiefly translations from the Italian. Like all transla-
tors, she is destitute of originality, or superior genius of any kind.
The ladies of America are indebted to Mrs. Ann S. Stephens
for many Iiours of pleasurable reading. She lias long been con-
nected with the periodical press of the day, and has written a
great deal of both prose and verse. Her chirography is strikingly
beautiful, and suggests force and pure originality.
^__.^.^/C^te^
The fiiends of John G. Wiiittiek liave fur overrated Iiis tal-
ents in many respeets. Tlicy imagine that his anti-slavery poems
deserve a place beside Bryant's " Thanatopsis," Hallcck's master
poems, and the matchless gems of Longfellow. In this respect,
they err— and err to an unpardonable extent. Still he possesses
talent, and pure, high-born originality. His versification is un-
equalled— smooth, graceful and harmonious. But his imagina-
tive powers are below the ordinary grade, and his handwriting
precise and quaker-like.
The learned blacksmith seems possessed of a mind as well
tempered as his own anvil, and we are indebted to him for some
sparks from its creative power that have burst into never-dying
flame. The signature we will leave for the analyzing of the reader.
The manuscript is rather uncouth and irregular.
^»^
»--Zl^ «ir
^^
- c<;<^^''x-<?'
This well known and popular French editor is now very prom-
inently before the European public. The hand is as delicate as a
female's, and indicates little of character to our eye. He is a
swift writer, and generally forms his letters in an indistinct and
running manner. His touch, though light upon the pen, often
conveys matter of heavy and vital importance.
Bayard Taylor is imdoubtedly one of our best poets, and he
is fast adding to his other celebrities by becoming one of the most
noted of modern travellers. We bear of him in California writing
a book upon the valley of the Sacramento, and the next wo hear of
him eating salt with the Arabs of the East, and out-bragging the
])etty princes of the desert. His manuscript is very correct, and
in body is regular and hanilsome. Mr. Taylor was brought up a
practical printer.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
255
3rLLE RACIIKL.
A letter writer says : "M'llc Rachel has just
returned to Paris from, her foreign tour. We
liave not yet seen published the amount of the
profits of her recent excursion. It is, doubtless,
ft round sum, that will go far to satisfy the pro-
verbial appetite of her race, which she is known
to possess in a remarkable degree. She employs
all the vacations allowed her at the French The-
atre in traversing the provinces of France and
the capitals of Europe, at the head of a special
company of actors and actresses, of which her
brother is manager. She is, unquestionably,
the first tragedian of her day, but she practises
her noble art less nobly ; slie uses her admirable
talent with less apparent consciousness of its
lofty nature, and more exclusively with an eye
to its value as a source of revenue, than any
eminent artist of her day."
MODES OF EXECUTION.
A correspondent of the National Intelligencer
■was "struck lately in reading the accounts of
nearly simultaneous public executions, by the
variety of modes which exist in Europe of exe-
cuting capital punishment. In Spain a criminal
has just been strangled (garroted). In Prussia
another has been beheaded with axe and block.
In England one has been hanged. In France
one has been guillotined ; and another, con-
demned by court martial, has been shot. In
many parts of Germany, beheading with a sword
is still the mode of executing criminals."
Rather queer. — A remarkable instance of
the mutability of fortune occurred lately in the
appearance of Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, at
Lima, as the commander of a Peruvian guano
ship. He was received with great enthusiasm
by the people, and has since been otfered the
command of an expedition against Flores.
Another Cuban Expedition. — The leader
of the Cuban movement, Gonzales, writes to the
New York Herald, that an expedition like that
■which resulted so fatally to Lopez, is now in
contemplation by the Cuban sympathizers.
Mrs. Mowatt lias lately closed a brilliant
engagement at the Providence Museum, in her
own brilliant play of " Fashion," which attracted
the fashion of the Roger Williams city. She
has achieved new triumphs.
A Comparison. — Europe and America may
be compared to the minute-hand and hour-hand
of a clock. The former makes the most revolu-
tions : whereas the latter makes a steady progress,
and determines the real march of advancement.
Very good. — Considering, says Punch, the
immense variety of smelts that emanate from the
Thames, what a capital speculation the river
would be, if it could be made to pay one per
(s) cent.
A "Warning. — A leading medical practitioner
at Brighton, England, has lately given a list of
sixteen cases of paralysis, produced by smoking,
which came under his own knowledge within
the last six months.
Handsome Donation. — The mayor has re-
ceived a check for SIOOO from the Hon. Wm. C.
Appleton, M. C, for the purchase of books for a
public library.
Vessels at the Navy Yard. — There have
been fitted out at the Cbarlestown Navy Yard,
during the last seven yeai-s, thirty-six vessels.
Naval. — Commodore Ringgold is to have
charge of the expedition to .survey the China
seas. The United States ship Vineennes will be
the flag ship of the squadron.
Large. — The editor of the Nantucket Mirror
has a pumpkin measuring four feet eleven inches
in eircumferehce.
Naturalized. — Ole Bull has declared his
intention of becoming a citizen of the United
States, and has taken the necessary oath.
Curious. — The bones of a mastodon have
been dug up in the town of New Britain, Ct.
Bruih. — A bear weighing 400 pounds was
killed in Middleboro', Vt., on Saturday week.
Gas. — Woonsocket, R. I., is to be lit with gas.
tUaiisilJe (Uatljerings.
Ex-Governor Chambers, late of Iowa, is dead.
Providence is at jn-esent the place for burglars.
Every man complains of his memory, but no
man complains of his judgment.
The Providence people arc determined to
have a new cit^'- hall. That's right.
At the house of Coirection in Cambridge,
there are, at present, 12S convicts.
The value of tobacco raised this year in Ohio,
is computed at $1,300,000.
The world's contempt for some sort of people
serves only to reconcile them the better to them-
selves.
Spatch remarks that as " Procrastination is
the thief of time," he must be the scoundrel ■who
stole his watch.
At Hartford, Ct., recently, Owen Gaven was
killed, and John Gaven nearly killed, by de-
scending into a foul well.
Tens and twenties of the Hamilton Bank,
Scituate, R. I., wortliless, altered to Hamilton
Bank, Boston, Iiave just been put in circulation.
The only child of Joseph Roby, of South Dcd-
ham, a girl three yeai-s of age, was drowned re-
cently by falling into a tub of water.
In Wardsboro' Vt., on the night of the 8th
ult., the house of Peter Moore took fire, and six
of his children perished in the flames.
A man named Robert Simkins was killed in
Albany lately by the bursting of a grindstone,
which was used for polishing.
A man in describing the inhabitants of Ore-
gon, said ; " They live high, dress well and ride
their horses on the canter."
There are at Gloucester twenty fishing firms
fitting out about three hundred fishing schooners,
manned by some three thousand men.
There are ninety-five persons, corporations,
etc., in the city of Providence, who are taxed for
over $50,000 each.
An Irishman named Lcarywas killed in Low-
ell, Sunday, by the giving way of a derrick in
the canal.
Madame Sontag has recovered a verdict for
$20,000 against Lumley ; but whether she will
recover the money is doubtful.
It is said that Jlrs. Sinclair and Mr. Vanden-
hofi^ will shortly appear at Niblo's, in Miss Van-
denhofTs play, called " Woman's Heart."
Mrs. Eliza Blank died in New York, lately,
from blows administered by her son. A warrant
has been issued for his arrest.
The President has approved the proceedings
of the recent court martial at Brooklyn, by which
Lieuts. John H. Devlin and J. Hartley Strick-
land were cashiered.
Clarence A., three years of age, son of Mr.
James Deluce, of South Boston, was run over by
a heavily loaded team, lately, near his father's
house, and killed.
Look out for counterfeit $2 bills, on the Bank
of Burlington, Vt.; they are a fac simile of the
genuine. The engraving is coarse, but the gen-
eral appearance of the bill is good.
The Lowell machine shop, and the machine
shops at Lawrence, IManchester, Bidileford and
Holyoke, have reduced the hours of labor to
eleven per day for the workmen in their employ.
Ac'^'ording to the Cincinnati Gazette, there are,
at this time, in twenty-one of the older States, a
city population of 3,223,041 to a rural population
of 14,461,882.
During the last quarter, the post-office depart-
ment at Washington have opened one million
and a quarter of dead letters, from which the de-
partment obtained over $11,000.
The Shawnee Indians who have been at Wash-
ington since last winter, have concluded their
business with the Indian bureau, and have re-
ceived $38,000, to be distributed among their
people at home.
The Bangor Mercury says the custom of gen-
tlemen taking the headof tlie pew came in vogue
in the early settlement of this country, when it
was necessary to carry muskets to the place of
worship as a defence against Indian depredations.
A negro woman belonging to Geo. JI. Garri-
son, of Polk county, killed four of her children
by cutting their throats while they were aslee]),
on Thursday jiight, the 2d ult., and then put an
end to her o^vn existence by cutting her throat.
James H., son of Jacob B. Wilson, at Pigeon
Cove, aged 15 years, was shot in the neck by the
accidental discbarge of a gun in the hands of a
lad named John Troy, so that he lived but a
few minutes.
On the 3d ult., the dwelling house of Mr.
Esek Hawkins, in Dickinson, Franklin county,
Avas burned down. Mrs. Hawkins and her
youngest child, a lad seven years of age, perished
in the flames.
The Concord Reporter says a squash -vine
commenced growing in the garden of Colonel
Samuel M. Currier, of Hopkinton, about the
middle of June, and by the IGih of September
had attained a length of 252 feet. It bore fifteen
respectable sized marrowfat squashes.
There are two sawmills at Chitantami,on the
Saguenay River, Canada, which run 182 upright
saws and ten circular saws. From the St. Lixw-
rence to those saw-mills the distance is ninety
miles up the Saguenay. Square-rigged vessels
of large tonnage go up to the mills to take in
their loads of lumber, and sail direct for Europe.
J^orcicin illisallanti.
A new palace for the queen is to be built, at a
cost of -£100,000, at Balmoral, Scotland.
Lord Byron's daughter, Ada, now known as
Lady Lovelace, was reported to be dangerously
ill. She is about thirty-six years of age.
The disease in the grape vine is still progress-
ing in many parts of Enrope, and on the shores
of the Rhine, as well as in Piedmont.
Mr. Owens, the comedian, who has been mak-
ing the tour of Great Britain, France and Swit-
zerland, at last accounts, was on the eve of
ascending Mont Blanc.
Thackeray is to receive $1500 for a course of
lectures on the writers of the age of Queen Anne,
before the New York Mercantile Library Asso-
ciation.
A letter from the Hague state^ that two cases
of hydrophobia have been cured there by the
employment of sulphate of quinine, combined
with opium.
On the 1st of August there were 329 manu-
factories of beet-root sugar in operation in
France. The quantity manufactured this season
was 74,183,999 kilogrammes.
Sportsmen in France are limited in their ex-
peditions, being unable to obtain more than half
a day's supply of powder owing to the law,
which docs not permit any large quantity to be
sold at one time.
A splendid monument of Peter the Great has
been erected by the nobility of the government
of Waldimir, at the village of Wieskowa. The
remains of Peter the Great's fleet are still at this
place.
Queen Victoria has granted to the Duchess of
Buckingham a suite of apartments in Hampton
Court Palace. The Duke of Buckingham, it
will be remembered, became bankrupt and im-
poverished a few years ago.
At Tottenham, Eng., a person undertook for a
bet, to lay a gun on the ground, throw a potato
up, turn head over heels, pick up the gun and
hit the potato once in five shots before it fell to
the ground. He won his bet the first shot.
Napoleon's marriage with the Princess Vasa
has been postponed by the advice of tlie lady's
physician ; but it will certainly take place. The
only alteration in the programme being that the
proclamation of the empire v,i\\ precede instead
of following the nuptials.
A Mr. Nield, recently deceased in England,
has bequeathed to Queen Victoria nearly the
whole of his property. It consists chiefly of
land scattered in various counties, and is valued
at half a million sterling. We could have sug-
gested to the gentleman a more needy heir.
jJoker'g Bubget.
Sanis of ©olb.
.... Who cannot keep his own secret, ought
not to complain if another tells it.
.... Common sense and substantial home-
spun garments are not much used in these days.
.... Beware of dwelling on the number of
your good qualities. It was King David's count-
ing his subjects that deprived him of them.
.... That alone can be called true refinement
which elevates the soul of man, purifying the man-
ners by improving the intellect. — Uusea Ballon.
.... Sweet are the uses of adversity, which,
like the toad, though ugly and venomous, wears
yet a precious jewel in his head. — ShaJcspeare.
.... We, ignorant of ourselves, beg often our
own harms, which the powers deny us for our
good ; so we find profit, by losing of our prayers.
.... In women, the heart is the citadel, and
all the rest mere suburbs ; in men, an inconsid-
erable outwork, which can be lost without injur-
ing the strength of the place.
.... There is a tide in the affairs of men,
which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
omitted, all the voyage of iheir life is bound in
shallows and in miseries. — Shakspeare.
.... The forms and ceremonies of politeness
may be dispensed with, in a measure, in the re-
laxations and intimacies of one's o^\'n fireside,
hut kind attentions never.
.... There was never yet philosopher that
could endure the toothache patiently, however
they have writ the style of god^^, and make a
pish at chance and sufferance. — Shakspeare.
Nature hath so distributed her gifts
among her children, as to promote a mutual
helpfulness ; and what, perhaps, is still more
precious, a mutual humility among men. — CIuil-
jiiei's.
.... This life will not admit of equality ; but
surely that man who thinks he derives conse-
quence nnd respect from keeping others at a dis-
tance, is as base-minded as the coward who
shuns the enemy from the fear of an attack. —
Goethe.
Admiration is a very short-lived passion,
that immediately decays upon growing familiar
with its object, unless it" be still fed with fresh
discoveries, and kept alive by a new perpetual
succession of miracles rising up to its view. —
Addison.
.... Courtship is a fine bowling-green turf,
all galloping round and sweet-hearting, a sun-
shine holiday in summer time ; Imt when once
through matrimony's tumpike, the weather be-
comes wintry, and some husbands are seized
with a cold, cguish fit, to which the faculty
give the name of indiffercnec. — G. A. Stevens.
A good name will wear out ; a bad name may
be changed by the legislature; a nickname sticks
to you like the shirt of Nessus.
Dickens, in speaking of a friend, says that his
face has been so pitted and seamed by the small
pox, that it looks hke a cane-bottomed chair.
The climax of superfluous politeness has been
declared to be that of holding an umbrella over
a duck in the rain !
Why is a clock the most persevering thing in
creation? Because it is never more inclined to
go on with its business than when it is completely
" wound up."
A broker in State Street, deeply absorbed in
speculation, being asked the other morning,
" How do you do?" replied abruptly, "About
two per cent, a month." — Yankee Blade.
Somebody has discovered the art of extract-
ing gas from vegetables. We expect soon to
see carrots substituted for lamp posts — the latter
producing the gas and posts, both in one.
A Western paper, in describing the effect of a
severe thunder shower, says : *' A cow was struck
by lightning and instantly killed, belonging to the
village physician, who had a beautiful calf only
four days old."
Certain coquettes, gaily dressed, thickly pow-
dered, and well rouged, being at a ball in Paris,
asked a foreigner present how he was pleased
with the French beauties. " Ladies," he replied
with great naivete, " 1 am no judge of painting."
An elderly female, for whom we have the
highest respect, says that she examined one of
the Hungarian refugees minutely ; and she has
come to the conclusion that he had more of the
foreign air (fur and hair) about him than any
other she ever saw.
A Western editor annoimces the death of a
lady of his acquaintance, and thus toucliingly
adds : " In her decease, the sick lost an inval-
uable friend. Long will she seem to stand at
their bedside, as she was wont, with the balm of
consolation in one hand, and a cup of rhubarb in
the otiier."
VOLTIMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
KooM Companion elegantly bound in cloth, i\-ith gilt edges
and back, and illuiuined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINIKQ NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
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256
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL 1)11AAVIN(; ROOM COMPANION.
nORTICULTURAJj EXIIIUITION.
Tlic Into floral and apriciilturnl exhibition in
our I'lihlic Giirtk-n, wliicli took placu nmk'r Mr.
Wriglit's maniniotli tout, was a most praiiti affair,
and our artist, Mr. Kosenljury, fjivus us below a
fine interior view of the tent, sketched during the
exhibition. We never looked in upon a more
enlivenintj; and beautiful .stene than was here
presented, while tlic car was rc;j;alcd by sweet
sounds from tlio well accorded instruments of a
full baud. The tlironp was immense, and people
were tiioroiif^hly deli[j;hted : tlio variety of fruits,
flowers and vegetables was most sui-prising. I
notited, says the correspondent of the Boston
Transcript, piles and (groups of vegetiibles.
Enormous pumjikins, waiting the Governor's
proclamation for Thanksgiving — huge, crooked,
round, ribbon-colored squashes, side by side —
beets which lieat all I ever saw in size and form
— turnips of great rotundity — mangel-wurzell of
hirsute skin, tlie delight of kinc — cabbages so
large, that one would make a hearty dinner for
the gigantic Polyphemus — parsnips of superior
length and kind — beans, with pods so long and
ambitious that they seemed still growing and
threading it out on the tabic — melons, water and
musk, tempting to the eye — and cucumbers which
must be measured by the yard, for no foot-rule
could reach tl em, were among the multitudinous
samples of cultivation ; a glory to the farmer and
a blessing to the citizen. 1 saw specimens of
sweet corn on cobs of great size and symmetry;
and potatoes were of such numerous kinds, colors
and qualities, that it would appear as though the
PolatO'fhohra had received its death-blow in
Massachusetts. Indeed, the vegetables alone
were a curiosity, and though less showy than
fruits and flowers, attracted much attention. —
Fruits, in some instances of a hundred species,
were arrayed upon the crowded tables in great
])rofusion and elegance. Some in glass vessels,
some in baskets, some in vases ingeniously cov-
ered with wreaths of evergreens, and adorned with
flowers. The arrangement of these fruits, so
luscious and tempting, where apples, peaches,
pears and grapes, with round, rich plums, and
indeed every kind of garden production, belong-
ing to the season, was tasteful and happy. Sev-
eral exotic plants were exhibited. The pitcher
plant in particular, from the superb garden of
Mr. Gushing, in Watertown, to very many was
a great novelty, and it may not be generally
known, that to this vegetable cup, which gathers
the dews of the atmosphere, certain tropical birds
often resort in a dry season and dip in their bills
for drink. The weary traveller has also found re-
freshment from this beautiful provision of nature.
The festoons, bouquets, garlands and glasses of
flowers, of different kinds, and some of exceed-
ing tastefulness, rivalled the fruits in variety, and
gave a brilliant coloring to the whole scene.
Both riora and Pomona must have shaken
hands, when they met at the same table— around
■which so many bright eyes were pazmg — and
saw how much they were honored by the horti-
culturists of New England. In a word, the whole
MUSICIAN OF A TURKISH HAREM. [Sue '-Tuikcy und the Turks," page 247.]
exhibition was a most splendid affair, whether
seen in the gas illumination of a crowded evening,
or in the sunlight of one of our brilliant autumnal
days. I would not have missed this display, for
it has convinced me how much we are all in-
debted to the Horticultural Society for promoting
the public good. This splendid exhibition closed
with a brilliant display of fireworks, which were
highly creditable to Mr. J. G. Hovey, the pyro-
technist. The weather has been highly propi-
tious; and the whole exhibition, from its com-
mencement to its close, was remarkably suc-
cessful, being rich in all the choicest and rarest
of the productions of Flora and Pomona, which
were admitted by competent judges to be the
best of the kind which this country has yet af-
forded. The public are greatly indebted to this
useful society for their important and disinter-
ested labors. " Peace has its triumphs as well
as War," and these are among its noblest and
most enduring laurels.
THE fllOSdUE OF ST. SOPHIA.
The mosques of Constantinople have all an
open space around them, generally planted with
trees, and refreshed by fountains. The princi-
pal mosque, the celebrated St. Sophia, stands on
the western declivity of the first hill, near the
Sublime Porte of the Seraglio. It was begun
and finished under the Emperor Justinian, be-
tween the years 5.31 and 537. It is in the form
of a Greek cross, 269 feet in length,by 24.3 wide,
or about 3 5ths the length of St. Paul's, London,
by nearly the same width; and surmounted in
its centre by a dome, the middle of which is 180
feet above the floor. The dome is of an ellipti-
cal form, and much too flat to be externally
beautiful, its height not exceeding l-6th part of
the diameter ; wliich is 115 feet, or 15 feet more
than that of the dome of St. Paul's, and 18 feet
less than that of St. Peter's at Rome. It is
lighted by twenty-four windows ranged round its
circumference, and rests upon four strong arches,
tlic weight of wliich is firmly supported by four
massive piles, Btrcngthcned on the north and
south sides by fourcuhimns of Egyptian granile.
The present dome is not coeval with the build-
ing; the original one, which was less lofty, and
more circular, having been thrown down by an
earthquake twenty-one years after its erection.
There are, besides, two large and six smaller
semi-domes, the whole of which blending inter-
nally with the principal one, form altogether a
magnificent exjjanse of roof. Four minarets,
but each of a different sliajic, have been added to
tliis mosque by tlie Mohammedans. The build-
ing has been outwardly so much patched and,
jjropped up in difi'ercnt ages, that it has lost
whatever beauty it may have originally possessed,
and is now a heavy, unwieldy, and confused-
looking mas."?. It is entered on the west side by
a double vestibule about 38 feet in breadth, which
communicate* with the interior by nine bronze
doors, ornamented with bas-reliefs in marble.
The interior is spacious and imposing, not being
broken by aisles or choirs ; but the variegated
marble floor is covered with mats and carpets ;
the mosaics of the dome, etc., have been wliite-
washed over by the Turks; the colo.ssaI seraphim
and other sculptures have been in great part de-
stroyed, and the general coup d'tnil is spoiled by
"a thousand little cords depending from the
summit to within four feet of the pavement, and
having at the end of them lamps of colored glass,
large ostrich-egg.s, artificial horse-tails, vases and
globes of crystal, and other mean ornaments."
The building is said to contain 170 columns of
marble, granite, porphyry, verd aniif/ue, etc.,
many of which were brought from the temple of
the Sun, built by Aurelian, the temjde of Diana
at Ephesus, and other ancient structures. The
cost of the building, owing to the ambiguity of
the Byzantine historians, cannot be accurately
determined ; but Gibbon observes in his Decline
and Fall of Rome, that " the sum of one million
sterling is the result of the lowest computaiion."
Yet with all this, Justinian seems to have failed
in making St. Sophia a really fine edifice. Sir
J. Hobhouse says of it, " My impression was,
that the skill of the one hundred architects, and
the labor of the ten thousand workmen, the
wealth of an empire, and the ingenuity of pre-
siding angels, had raised a stupendous monu-
ment of the heavy mediocrity which distinguished
the productions of the sixth century from the
perfect specimens of a happier age." But most
travellers agree in preferring the mosque of So-
lyman the Magnificent, to St. Sophia. This
splendid edifice is 216 feet in length by 210
feet broad, and has a hnndsomedome. supported
on four columns of Thebaic granite 60 feet high,
pavements, galleries, etc., of marble, several
minor cupolas, four fine minarets at the angles,
a f-pacious courtyard leading to it, with galleries
of green marble on either side, and twenty-eight
leaded cupolas, -and a very handsome gate of
entrance ascended by a flight of twenty marble
steps. The whole of this mosque is in very good
taste. — McCuUoch's Gazdleer.
L/\TE EXIHBITION OF THE HOKTiCULTURAL SOCIElYj IN THE PUBLIC GARDEN, BOSTON.
p. GLBASON,
I CORNER BROMFLELD
1 AND TKEMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1852.
s2 per voltbie.
10 Ctb. single.
Vol. in. No. 17 —Whole No. 69.
BILLY BOWLEGS AND SUITK
Our artist has presented for us below, a very
fine and lifelike picture of an Indian party from
the -westem wilds, as they lately appeared in
New York. The party consisted of the famous
Billy Bowlcg;s, six Indian chiefs and an inter-
preter. Billy is himself a short, stout built and
quite ordinary looking man, of about forty years
of age, and was clad in a calico frock, leggins, a
belt or two, and a sort of short cloak. On bis
head he wore a kind of turban enclosed in a
broad silver band, and surmounted by a profu-
sion of blackx)Strich feathers. Billy is the hered-
itary chief of the Seniinoles, and nephew of Mic-
conopy, the old chief, who ruled the tribe at the
commencement of the Seminole War in 1835;
he is also a relative of King Payne, who gave
our people so much trouble in Georgia and
vicinity in 1812. Another of the party is John
Jumper, a subordinate chief of the Seminoles ;
his father Jumper was famous as a persevering
enemy. Nocose Emanthla is still anotlier Sem-
inole chief, whose people are yet in Florida.
Nocose dresses in a calico shirt, fringed and
rudely embroidered ai-ound the edges ; he also
wears a turban, formed of a narrow shawl,
wound several times around his head. Chocotc
Tustenuggee, a Miccasukie chief, living at Sam
Jones's settlement, is also one of the members,
and is, perhaps, the best looking of the whole
delegation. Fasatchee Emanthla is another of
the red skin visitors; but what entitles him to
the importance of a delegate to Washington is
not made public. He is probably a subordinate
chief of the Seminoles, to which tribe he belongs.
Sarparkee Yohola and Pasackecathla are two
Seminole chiefs, who, with their people, have re-
moved from Florida to Arkansas. They visited
Florida for the purpose of inducing the Indians
to emigrate to the West. They say there is
better hunting and more comfort in their new
home than the Florida Indians can possibly
have. Abram, the negro interpreter, is no un-
important personage in the suite. Abram is
about 70 years, but holds his own remarkably.
All together form a wild group of the red race
of America, and the picture will be a very sug-
gestive one to the minds of our readers. The
whole delegation appears to look up to Billy
Bowlegs as their leader, and he is not at all
modest in the matter, for he always assumes the
chief prerogatives. Nor docs he do this with
any show of even savage politeness. He is surly,
and at all times cross and unmanageable. There
seems to be but little of the "noble Indian"
about him. When Osceola was alive, Billy Bow-
legs was hardly known, except among his own
people. After the death of that celebrated chief,
however, Billy took rank, and soon became
known as a wily, dangerous foe of the white man.
He soon gained the reputation of being treacher-
ous and cruel, and has, down to the present time,
proved a troublesome fellow. He now pretends
that he is willing, and, in fact, desirous, to emi-
grate; he says that game is getting scarce in
Florida, and he thinks he can do much better at
the West. He is utterly surprised at what he
has seen since he came North, and is perfectly
satisfied, that with the big guns, powerful steam-
boats, and " much folks " which he finds, that
the great Seminole nation itself must yield before
the white man.
EILT.Y liOWLEGS.
CHOCOTE TUSTENUGGEE. ABRAM. JOHN JUMPER. FASATCHEK KMANTKLA.
BILLY BOWLEGS AND CHIEFS OF THE SEMINOLE INDIANS.
SAKPARKF.E yOHO^V
258
GLEASON'S 1>ICT0RIAL DRAWIxXG ROOM COMPANION.
A ROMANTIC STOIIY OF INCIDENr AND ADVENI'UIIE
Ectored according to Act of Congrcsfi, in the year 1852, by F. Gleason, in tho Clerk'a Office of the
District Court of Maseachusotta.
[WEITTEN EXrRKSSLT FOR OLEABON's riCTORlAl.]
11
31 ©rapljU «Ialc of Spain, 3tab anii QEnglanJ?.
BY FREDERICK HUNTER.
[C ON C LUDED.]
CHAPTER XXr.
DON MIGUEL AND HIS WARD.
Away went Peri at top speed for a few mo-
ments, but she very soon discovered that she
carried an unnatural weij^ht, and that the spurs
which gored her flanks were altogether a new
mode of impetus for her ! The palfrey was like
a fox, and Corrinne still kept her seat, bound
whither she had no idea.
On dabhed the guardian and his wnrd at a fu-
rious pace, and poor de Norde, robbed of his
wife without a moment's warning, lay for some
moments senseless upon the roadside, ignorant
of the cause of his trouble, and utterly uncon-
scious of what had been transpiring since he re-
ceived the blow upon his forehead.
Forward, then, Ruberto ! It is your last
chance. The game is a desperate one, and you
may win, but the chances arc against you, ncver-
tlieless. Have a care, too, for the beast you ride
has known the voice of a kinder rider, for many
a long month, and her proud spirit will scarcely
brook the treatment you now offer her. The
matchless Peri strode away at a terrible rate,
and the little palfrey upon which Corrinne was
seated still galloped on, as fast as her tiny legs
could carry her, while the desperate Spaniard
still drove his rowels into Perl's side, and con-
tinued still to shout " forward, Corrinne, for-
ward ! There is no other course left you !"
Five minutes is a long space of time for a man
to be bereft of his senses, and in five minutes of
time, at the pace they travelled, the Spaniard
and his captive must have gone a very consid-
erable distance from the spot where de Korde
had been struck down. But, as there is usually
an end to this sort of thing, so there was an end
to de Norde's unconsciousness ; and when he
came to himself, partially, he arose half up — en-
deavored to look about liim, and call to mind
what had happened ; but his sensations were
such that he could not determine where he was,
or what had brought him there. Suddenly,
however, he sprang to his feet, jumped into the
road, and cried — ■
" Corrinne ! My wife — Corrinne \"
The truth flashed upon his memory, and he
bethought him of the attack, the accident, and
then all was chaos again ! His horse was gone,
his wife was gone, his enemy (whoever it was) was
gone, he was not badly hurt — his purse was
safe, but he was entirely alone ! What could it
mean ?
He did not halt to make unnecessary and
fruitless inquiries, but as well as he was able,
though still confused and dizzy, he staggered,
half ran, along the road toward the town. Ah !
how did he hope and trust that his poor wife had
not been harmed, and that he should be able
soon to greet her in safety. He hastened on,
therefore, and made the best of his way toward
his hotel.
The refugees had arrived within half a mile of
the line of tho town, when Peri became furiously
excited from tho repeated urgings and gorings
she had received from her unknown rider. Three
or four times she had plunged and struck out, or
leaped fearfully forward, as tlio rowels pene-
trated her tender sides. But Don Miguel main-
tained a good seat in tho saddle, and still he
pressed lier on, when, suddenly rearing, the pal-
frey cut her on the gambrcl (being close behind
*ner), she plunged madly out, and lioltirg, threw
Don Miguel witli dreadful violence against n
lodge of rock by the side of the path. Tlien
turning, as slie thus relieved herself of her un-
wclconie burden, Corrinne saw with painful hor-
ror, that Ruberto's foot was thrust througli the
stirrup.
Peri was quite as much alarmed as was the
wife of Bernard ; and wheeling once more away
she dashed, wildly, madly, desperately, with her
late rider dangling at her hteis. The work of
death was brief, but terrible ! The horse only
knew that some extraordinary event had occur-
red, and at a murderous leap slie went off to-
ward the stable in which she had been housed
for several days. When she reached it, she
scrambled headlong into the court-yard, leaped
the paling, and fell, covered with sweat and
dust and blood — near the outer door.
Tiie groom instantly caught her head, and
aided her upon her feet. The foam dripped from
her sides, and she was badly scarred. The head-
gear was out of shape, one stirrup-strap was
missing, the saddle was turned down under her
belly, and it was plain that some shocking acci-
dent had taken place. Aid was sent out, at once,
from the hotel, in the direction that de Norde
had been known habitually to take in his eques-
trian excursions, and matters were soon ex-
plained, in a measure. The'body of a man was
found by the roadside awfully mangled and
bruised, around whose right ankle there hung a
stirrup which matched the otiier in Peri's saddle.
But this man was a stranger! It was not the
'■ magician," as he was known there, but an
older person. How came he there ? How could
he have occupied the signer's saddle i Where
was the lady, too ? There was plainly foul play,
in some way, and the people who huddled about
the body became excited and curious.
" Send for a doctor," suggested some one in
the crowd, at last.
" Rather too late," replied another, taking up
the man's hand. " He is dead."
A surgeon was sent for, however, the body
was removed to a more suitable place for ex-
amination, but all was useless. Don Miguel
Roberto, the oppressor and teacher of de Norde,
tho sworn enemy of Bernard and Corrinne,
the former robber chief FontinI, ivas no more I
But Bernard hurried along, and as he ad-
vanced, the exercise rather aided him. He was
all in doubt and confusion, hopeful, yet fearino-
to know the result of this night's work, when lie
heard a horse galloping down the road towards
him, at a rapid rate, from the direction of the
tovn. As the animal approaclied nearer, he
stepped a little aside, until (if he had a rider)
he might be hailed, when he shouted, " he ! he!"
which brought both palfrey and rider to a stand-
still, for that voice was well remembered.
*' Bernard," shouted Corrinne in response, as
she leaped from her saddle at a bound, *' Ber-
nard ! my husband! are you safe ? Are you not
hurt? Speak, quick!"
"No, loved one, I am not hurt much. But
where is Peri ? Whence came you, and what
docs all this mean V
" 0, Bernard^n one word, I beg you has-
ten. Don Miguel lies bleeding by the road, not
a hundred rods hence."
" Don Miguel !"
"Yes, yes— do not pause, noW' — do not ask a
question, I beseech you; but haste, in human-
ity's name, hasten to aid him."
" How canie he here ?" said de Norde, con-
fuBcdly, and iusisting first upon placing his wife
in the saddle again. " Where did Don Miguel
come from, pray ?"
"Away, Bernard! l-'or 7/jj/ sake, now, away
and save him, if poHsiljle," conliniicd Corrinne,
kindly. And in a very little time they reached
the spot where lay the form of the once power-
ful roltber, who had now ceased to brciiLho ! In
vain was sympathy, kindness or surgical skill.
'J'he die was cast — Don Miguel was dead !
Tiie body was removed, as we have stated,
and a brief exi)lanation took place. It was clear
to the examining authorities that this man was
upon the wrong horse, at any rate ; and it was
quite as clear that he not only had no right
there, but that his death occurred by being
thrown and dragged against the rocky road.
However, he was dead! and they could not pro-
ceed further towards him, even if he had crim-
inally possessed himself, for tlic lime being, with
de Norde's horse. So they suftcred the magi-
cian to take po>session of the mangled body, and
the event was soon afterwards forgotten.
Corrinne — though deeply agitated and alarm-
ed— reached lier hotel in safety, at last, where
she very quickly explained the whole affair to
her husband, in detail. De Norde bore no mal-
ice in his composition ; and so after hearing his
wife's story, though he saw that Ruberto would
have ro!)bed him of Corrinne, and left him to
die by the road-side, in order that he might thus
triumph, yet the old Spaniard was now beyond
harming him, further, and he forgave him for the
multifold injuries he had sustained, at his hands,
and went about the work of having liis remains
cared for, in a suitable and respectable manner.
After some consultation between Bernard and
his wife, such a version of the story of his death
as seemed fit to them, under the circumstances,
was prepared and published, to be sent to Seville,
for the information of that community. In gen-
eral terms, this account stated that Don Miguel
came to his death by being run away with, and
thrown from his horse ; and no questions were
subsequently asked which were not readily an-
swered in connection with this statement.
The body was placed in a leaden coflfin, and
afterwards in a wooden one, and these were en-
cased and sent forward at once to the hacienda
of Don Miguel, whither de Norde and Corrinne
resolved to follow the corpse, and give it a pro-
per burial, having in view, also, an examination
into Rulierto's pecuniary affairs, and a determi-
nation to look after his property, which they both
supposed to be valuable.
At an early moment, therefore, they arranged
to leave Malaga ; and having sent forward their
own luggage and Bernard's paraphernalia, they
quit the place which had been big with so impor-
tant a turning-point in their existence, and head-
ed towards Seville at once.
The journey " homeward" was a melancholy
one, for Corrinne could not hut deplore the un-
happy fate of old Don Miguel, who had done so
much for her, but who had also been so cruel,
subsequently ! After a few days' travel, they
reached the neighborhood of the town where
Corrinne had resided nearly seven years ; and as
the "old familiar places" arose to her view, she
became more resigned to the situation she so un-
expectedly found herself in.
The coi-pse of Don Miguel had reached his
dwelling a little time before them, and they
found the house in mourning. The household had
not forgotten their beautiful young mistress, and
the attendants joyed to greet Iier again.
Corrinne assumed her place at once in the
mansion of her iformer protector; and, as none
had ever known aught of her troubles, she was
quickly and gratefully recognized, as she intro-
duced her husband, and proceeded appropriately
to care for Don Miguel's remains.
CHAPTER XXII.
CONCLUSION OF OUR STORY.
Whatever might have been the disposition
of the Spaniard towards his former lieutenant,
or however bitter was his feeling and desire for
revenge upon d6 Norde, it turned out that Don
Miguel entertained no spark of malice against
his former nominal ward ; for, among the docu-
ments found among his private papers, was one
that very conclusively convinced both Bernard
and his wife that he felt kindly for Corrinne.
As soon after the burial as ]))*oprietv ^vould
seem to sanction it, an examiniition of the affairs
of Ruberto took place, and a will, executed
nearly a twelve month previouslv, by his pro-
tector, was discovered, in which, after the be-
stowal of a few hundred ducats in value to his
housekeeper, and one or two old Bcrrants, in
case of his death, ho had bequeathed )iis entire
property, his mansion, lands, stocks, and money,
to Corrinne Almanza! His ward was made exe-
cutrix, also, a proof of his undiminished and
entire confidence in her whom he had secretly
hred, and whom ho originally intended to
marry.
Upon a further investigation, his fortune was
found to have been a very handsome one ; amply
sufficient to place tlie young coujde fur beyond
the reach of future want or embarrassment. His
debts were all called in, therefore, and fully dis-
charged, and within two montlis from the day
of Ruberto's death, his estate had been settled
up. At the expiration of another month, notice
was given to the household that the mansion
would soon be disposed of; and shortly after-
ward a sale was made of all the property in
Spain, and de Norde with his wife prepared to
leave the scenes which had been so full of trou-
ble and peril to them, and retire to England, as
they had previously intended to do.
In the meantime, de Norde had not forgotten
his staunch friend and companion, the faithful
Pierre, who had availed himself, witli most of his
associates, of the lenity of the crowns of Sjiain
and Portugal. Bernard provided him with such
ready means as would establish him in trade, and
Pierre retired to a small town in ihe interior,
where he commenced an honorable business, in
which he was subsequently very successful.
The affairs of Don Miguel were fairly closed
up, and de Norde, with his lovely and faithful
wife departed for the north, having turned their
entire eflTects into cash and exchange bills on
England, whither they proceeded finally to lo-
cate themselves permanently.
" Ah ! Corrinne," said her husband affection-
ately, as they were about to depart, " how much
do I owe you, for your confidence and love and
devotion! Fortune has at length smiled upon
roe, unworthy as I have been of her favor, and I
may indeed joy over the possession of such a
companion as you, my loved Corrinne, have
proved. May we not be, hereafter, very happy V
" Trust me, Bernard," rejoined the wife, fer-
vently, "trust me, that when I joined my fate
with yours, I had no aim but to deserve your af-
fection. In our early intercourse, did you not
more than once save my life 1 For this, then,
alone, should I be your grateful and your con-
stant debtor. But, since the hour when we stood
before the holy priest, and pledged to each
other our love and lives, surely have I had no
cause to regret the union which succeeded. Be-
lieve me, dear Bernard, since fortune has so
kindly cared for us, at last, I feel that we must,
indeed, henceforth, be very happy I"
The errors of Don Miguel were forgiven by
the lovers, who remembered only his kindnesses
towards them. The estate near Seville passed
into the hands of new proprietors, for the asso-
ciations connected with the hacienda of Ruberto
were all too painful for Corrinne to remain
amongst them, and the hour of departure finally
came — the moment when they bade adieu for-
ever to Spain, her beauties, and her sunshine
scenes !
The journey to Paris was a very pleasant one,
for the season was fine. At the capital the lovers
halted for a few weeks, during which time de
Norde and his wife embraced the opportunity
offered to examine the beauties and the curios-
ities of the metropolis of fashion in the Old
World, and at last crossed over to Calais, and
thence proceeded by steam to London.
A few weeks only elapsed, subsequently, when
de Norde selected a beautiful estate in tlie sub-
urbs of the British metropolis, which was made
in every way desirable through his own natural
good taste, and the suggestions of his adored
Corrinne ; and to which spot — after the trials
and perils and mishaps to which they had been
subjected for the previous year, they retired at
length to enjoy the ample fortune now possessed
by the faithful and accomplished wife.
The dwelling wasof modem construction, and
the grounds were laid out in romantic and at-
tractive style. A fine park and a young grovo
backed the villa, and a small lake adorned the
middle grounds. Tlie establishment was apjiro-
priatcly decorated and appointed throughout,
and among the occupants of the comfortable
stable were "Peri," and the natty little palfrey
that had done their owners such good in the days
when their services were needed.
" At home, dear Corrinne," said Bernard
kindly, one evening after they found themselves
agreeably settled in their new quarters, " at
home, and happy, at last I Wo have passed
through some exciting scenes, since the hour
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM CO:\irANION.
259
when we first met, but the prospect now before
us is indeed a prornising one."
" Yes, Bernard," responded his wife, in a
pleasant tone, " wc find ourselves home after a
merry journey and many an incident of peril;
but Providence has smiled upon us, and wc may
well he grateful for the final result."
" So we should be, Corrinne. I had scarcely
looked forward to enjoyment like this."
" It is well, de Nordc, but there will come a
frequent regret for the fate of poor Kubcrto,
nevertheless."
" With you, I suppose so, Corrinne : for what-
ever he was to others, he was kind to you."
" He was, indeed, do Nordc, and I think he
really loved me. But," she added, " it was liis
own error, he found his fate, and became a vic-
tim to his own unhappy passions."
"Ton are right, Corrinne. Hs never injured
me much, as fortune would have it. His inten-
tions, however, were evil. Yet, he is gone, and
I forgive him for his errors."
" You are very kind, Bernard, and I sliall
love you the mox'C since you exhibit so gentle a
resentment."
The speakers ceased, for the subject was a dis-
agreeable one, and each enjoyed tlie thoughts
which presented themselves, under the circum-
stances for a few minutes, when the servant en-
tered the apartment, and informed *' Madame"
as she called her, that a lady desired to speak
with her in the reception room, below.
Upon entering that room, Corrinne found a
stranger there, who curtsied low as the former
made her appearance.
She had come, she said, in response to an ad-
vertisement in the " Chronicle," for a house-
keeper. She had had a goodly experience in
this line of duty, and her credentials were flatter-
ing. She learned that the proprietor of " Se-
ville Hall" was the party who desired the services
of such a person, and she came to bespeak the
place, if possible.
" I see by your broken language," said Cor-
rinne, quickly, "that you arc not an English
woman."
" No, madam, I am from Spain."
"And you have had charge of a household
there V
" Yes, madam, I occupied the situation of
housekeeper to Don Miguel Ruberto, near
Seville !"
" Marguerritte!" exclaimed Corrinne, in her
well-acquired Spanisli tongue, "Marguerritte!
Don't you remember me ?"
The woman sprang forward at this familiar
address, and sunk at the feet of her former
lovely and beloved young mistress.
It was a joyful meeting, indeed ; for Mar-
guerritte had always looked upon Corrinne with
a mother's devotedness, and she was more than
happy to meet and recognize her.
" Signora Corrinne ! Is it possible ! Ah,
signora I You may believe I am greatly joyed
to meet you again. Tell mo, shall I be your
housekeeper, once more V
" Indeed you shall, Marguenitte, and I assure
you, you could not have come at a more fitting
moment. Since we parted, wlicrc have you
been ; and pray inform me how you chanced to
fall in with our notice for an attendant ?"
Matters were very quickly explained. Mar-
guerritte had left Spain about the same time
that Bernard and Corrinne went north. She had
a smattering of English upon her tongue, and
she fancied she could do well by crossing the
channel. She went to London, and having a
little means of her own, was contemplating
whether she should not embark in some small
business, and thus add to her funds, when the
advertisement in the Chronicle met her eye, and
changed her determination.
Nothing could have happened more oppor-
tune, for Corrinne was comparatively inexpe-
rienced in household duties, and Marguerritte
— whom she had long knoiMi as a competent and
faithful servant — was in every way just suited
to her present wants. She was engaged at once,
therefore ; and entered forthwith upon her duties
at the newly furnished villa which Bernard had
named " Seville Hall," out of respect to past
events !
And there, surrounded by all that a compe-
tency funiished, in the enjoyment and devotcd-
nc>:3 of each other, happy in their splendid
home, and content with themselves, their fortune
and their position, we leave the happy lovers,
and bring our story of " The Magician" to an
end.
THE END.
OVritten for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
THE LIGHT FROM THE M'EhT.
Er SDSA.V H. BLAISDELL.
Tlie chili autumn rain had fiillcn through the d.iy,
And cold winds were mourning the summer's decline ;
While dark rolling clouds, from the sky's sullen gray,
Seemed to frown on the offering they laid on earth's
shrine.
And I watched with aad heart, but the storm lulled apace,
And sunset broke forth on the green hill's fair crest j
Whiie a full flood of glory poured over the earth,
In the hght from the west.
And 'tis thus, when across the warm spirit there steals
The dim, brooding shadow that loneliness lends ;
And wc look, but in vain, for one gladdening ray
That from the veiled future, to meet us, ascends.
0, 'tis thus, like the sunshine that breaks through the
cloud,
And heralds a season of calmness and rest.
That a smile is as sweet, from the lips that we love,
As the light from the west.
ENEHIIES OF THE OUSTER.
The enemies of the oyster are many, and all
of them go about seeking what oyster they may
devour. First comes the sea-crab, who seats
himself on an oyster and drills a lirtle round
hole in his back and makes poor oyster's back
ache, which causes him to open his mouth to
take along breath, when the villanous crab runs
a * stinger" down his throat, and poor oyster is
in the sea-cral>'s stomach. On the seashore
bushels of shells are found perfectly riddled with
holes by the crabs. Sometimes the crab files
the oyster's nose off, so as to run in his stinger.
Second, comes the drum-fish, who weighs
about thirty or forty pounds, and is about two
feet long ; he is large about the stomach and
tapers off toward both ends. He is by no means
a modest fish, for just as soon as his eye rests on
an oyster, he starts toward him, for the purpose
ofmakiog his acquaintance, and grabbing him
in his mouth, smashes him into chowder, "in
the twinkling of a cat's tail," and immediately
looks about for his nearest relative — being op-
posed to having families separated, lie is anxious
to have them all rest in his stomach at once. It is
often the case that two or tliree pounds of oyster
shells are found in a drum-fish's stomach.
Third, comes the seastar — everybody knows
what a sea-star is, for they look just like a star.
These stars have five points, but no legs; and,
as they do not keep horses and wagons, they
find it very inconvenient to go a foot — not hnv-
ing any feet — so when they wish to travel, they
lock themselves fast to each other until they
form a large hill, sometimes ten feet in circum-
ference, and permit themselves to be driven
about by the waves of the sea, and roll away,
they know not, nor care not whither ; hut if they
happen to roll over an oyster bed, they all im-
mediately let loose of each other, and hug an
oyster, and wrap their five points about him,
and hug him closely, hug him dearly, until the
oyster desires him to stop, and just opens his
mouth to say, "hold, enough," when the ras-
cally star runs a little "nipper" down oyster's
nose, and he is a "gonner."
Fourth, conies man, with dredging irons, with
scoups, shovels, and tongs, pulling him, and
making him into oyster soup, pie. fry, roast, and
so on and so forth, eating him whole, and indis-
criminately body and soul, without saving the
pieces. Thus it is with poor oyster ; troubles
beset him on every side, and tliough thousands
desire to have him, yet none wish to be him. —
Norlhern Journal.
GEORGE I AKD GEORGE II.
George the First, and his successor, George
the Second, could never learn to speak English,
and neither of them ever felt himself at home in
England. They were always going over to Han-
over, where they found themselves lords and
masters, while in England, though they had
been raised so much higher, their dignity never
sat very easy upon them. George the Second
laid great stress on the minutest trifles, insisting
on wearing his shirts in the order in which they
were numbered, and flying into a violent passion
if they brought him the wrong number. " Why
am 1 to wear No. 16, when 1 have not had No.
15"? Why am I to do nothing that I like? Am
I king of England or am I not ? That is what
I want to know." And then he would fall to
kicking his hat about the room, to vent his anger,
and rating any of the ministers that came in, in
his outlandish jargon. Once he was going to
kick the Duke of Argyle, who laid his hand
upon his sword, and withdrew in high dudgeon.
Meeting Sir Robert Walpole on the staircase, he
complained of what had happened, to which the
other replied, "O! that's nothing, he has treated
me so a hundred times. "^Youth's Cabinet.
TIME AND WONEY.
Many people take no care of their money till
they have come nearly to the end of it, and oth-
ers do just the same with their time. Their best
days they throw away — let ihem run like sand
through their fingers, as long as they think they
still have an almost countless number of them to
spend ; but when they find their days flowing
rapidly away, so that at last tliey have very few
left, then they will at once make a very wise use
of them ; but, unluckily, they have by that time
no notion how to do it. — Go'ttke/y.
How cling Tve to a thing our hearts havo nursed !
Mrs. C. H. W. Esluig.
MIGHTY MEN.
Dr. Adam Clarke said, that " the old proverb
about having too many irons in the fire was an
abominable ohi lie. Have all in it, shovel, tongs
and poker." It is not so much the multiplicity
of employments, as the want of system in them,
that distracts and injures both the work and the
workman. Wesley said, " I am always in haste,
but never in a hurry, leisure and I have long
taken leave of eacli other." He travelled about
5000 miles in a year ; preached about three times
a day, commencing at 5 o'clock in the morning ;
and his published works amounted to about :200
volumes ! Asbury travelled GOOO miles a year,
and preached incessantly. Coke crossed the
Atlantic eighteen times, preached, wrote, trav-
elled, estabiisiied missions, begged from door to
door for them, and labored in all respects, as if,
like the aposcles, he would " turn the world up-
side down." At near 70 years of age, he started
to Christianize India ! It is said that Luther
preached almost daily; he lectured constantly
as a professor: he was burdened with the care
of all the churches ; his correspondence, even as
now extant, fills many volumes ; he was perpet-
ually harassed with controversies, and was the
most voluminous writer of his day. The same,
or even more, might be said of Calvin. While
in Strasburg, he preached or lectured every day.
In a letter to Farcl, dated fi.-ora that city, he says
that on one day he had revised twenty sheets of
one of his works, lectured, preached, ^^'ritten four
letters, reconciled several parties who were at
variance, and answered more than ten persons
who came to him for advice. In Geneva he was
pastor, professor, and almost magistrate. He
lectured every other day ; on alternate weeks he
preaelied daily ; he was overwhelmed with let-
ters from all parts of Europe ; and was the au-
thor of works (amounting to nine volumes folio)
which any man of our generation would think
more than enough to occupy his whole time.
And this amid perpetual infirmity, headache,
catarrh, strangury, gravel, stone, gout. Baxter
says of himself, that, before the wars, he preach-
ed twice every Sabbath, and once in the week,
besides occasional sermons, and several regular
evening religious meetings. Two days in the
week he catechized the people from house to
house, spending an hour with each family. Be-
sides all this, he was forced, by the necessity of
the people, to practise physic ; and as he never
took a penny from any one, he was crowded
with patients. In the midst of all these duties,
though afflicted with alniost all the diseases
which man is heir to, he wrote more books than
most of us can find time to read. All these men
were poor. We find Luther begging the elector
for a new coat, and thanking him for a piece of
meat ; Calvin selling his books to pay his rent ;
and Baxter was a curate with sixty pounds a
year. — Sketches and Iticidenls.
[Written for Gleason'e Pictorial.l
OBSCURITY.
BT J STABR HOLLOWAY.
O, dull and cold ! 0, dead Obscurity !
Uncompromising miner of rest I
Ghost of obliTiou I who silently
Makest thyself a fchrice-un welcomed guest!
I have become famihar with thy face,
I know thee as I know my own sad heart ;
0, hated one! dost thou not love to trace,
Deep in my soul, the influence of thine art?
Go! leave me now I leave me forever ! Go!
Go ! there are many who will welcome thee ;
Many who gladly would be thine, I know,
But I, I only long to fly thee, to he free !
Hard, hard and wretched, stern and bitter fate.
To live out life uncared for and unknown ;
And thuH, perhaps, I '11 live ! Then come, create,
0 gloom, at once, within my heart, thy throne I
But I will strive, strive well to emulate,
Strive well to excel the few who 'vb won a name ;
" Excelsior " my aim I be this my fat-e,
To win, at last, some high, immortal fame I
CONCERTED PIECES.
The musical education of the lower class of
the Parisian people has made wonderful pro-
gress since the Revolution of 17S9. Gratuitous
performances were frequently given after that
event, and especially in 1792; but the "patriots"
knew so little of music, that they thought, that
when three or four performers sang together, it
was to get through the piece sooner. On one
occasion in 1793, at the Grand Opera, they posi-
tively refused to allow a concerted piece to be
executed. "A la lauterne! a la lanterne!" they
yelled at tlie terrified performers. "May I ask
what is your pleasure, citizens?" said a per-
former, stepping forward, and really not know-
ing what the tumult was about. " I'll tell you,"
roared a brawny butcher, in his shirt sleeves,
from one of the principal boxes, "you think that
because we came in here without paying, we
may be treated with disrespect; and so three of
you sing together to get done quickly! But
you shan't treat us so, aristocrats, miiscadins,
canaille! Sing one at a time, or we'll hang you
a la lanterne!" — Liitrary Gazette.
If men were compelled to give a reason for
everything they profess to believe, one of two
things is certain; either, reasons would become
more abundant than they are io the present day,
or doctrines would be fewer.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AN ANGEL IN THE CLOUDS.
DY GEORGE 1
Methought the clouds in heaven so fair.
Were isles, with cities filled;
With spires and turrets gleaming there,
Just like the castles in the air.
We often build.
These islands, in the realms of space,
Sailed on through seaa of blue ;
And there I could distinctly trace
The azure wing and angel face
Of one I know.
She sat upon a radiant throne,
And wore a crown of light ;
More glorious than the sun at noon,
A heavenly halo round her shone,
Iler robes were white.
She was a pleasant angel here,
Before wings had been given
To bear her to that blissful sphere,
Beyond the silver cloud, so near
Her native heaven.
I 've seen her at the sick child's bed,
Watch, ^nth unsleeping eye,
Until its gentle spirit tied.
On rosy pinions from the dead,
To God on high.
When sun-lit clouds are floating by,
I oftvn bow to hear
The sweep of wings from yonder sky,
Where ministering sphifcs lly
From sphere to sphere.
TYROLESE COTTAGE.
Descending the mountain, we saw, at diffxjreut
distances, twelve or fourteen stables for cattle,
all lately built. We entered one of them. The
mistress received us kindly ; she was neatly clad,
and the greatest cleanliness prevailed everywhere
— even in the part where the cattle stand to be
milked, every sort of litter was carefully removed.
From this side of the stable there was a door
into the dwelling of the owner, where even foot-
marks are carefully cleaned off. In one corner
of this room was a fire, above which a kettle was
hung, in which the cream that was skimmed was
placed, that it might be curdled, and ready for
making cheese. The most dainty food, accord-
ing to tlie taste of cowiierds (a portion of the
best eream mixed with meal well salted, and
cooked over the Are), was prepared for us, with-
out our request, and the yoimger females could
not understand why we scarcely touched their
delicate fare. Near to the dwelling was another
room, in wliich the fresh cheese, and the rolls of
butter, fairly formed, and ornamented with the
printed impressions, and the low but broad,
wooden vessels for holding milk are kept. Above
is a private bedroom, in which a little altar is
not wanting (this is among Koman Catholics),
and great order and cleanliness may also be ob-
served here, according to the character of the
cowherds' wives. A heai'y rain detained us for
some time in this cabin, and when the sky was
again clear, we set out again, by a narrow foot-
path, which was then very slippery. At a con-
siderable height, we found a hunting-lodge, sur-
rounded by a neat and pleasant garden, in which
a number of flowers, which are highly prized in
our gardens at liouie, awakened in my mind
both pleasing and painful recollections. These
sweet friends of mine said to me, in an impres-
sive manner, "The earth is the Lord's, and the
fulness thereof," and reminded me of the pres-
ence of Him who has said, "Heaven is my throne,
and earth is my footstool. Hath not my hand
made all these things V Thus I was led to ac-
knowledge that I was no farther from my real
home than when I was in my own house. — From
a German Work.
THE AMERICAN.
The American accepts any work yor the time, if
it pays. He does it cheerfully ; he does it man-
fully ; but if it is at the bidding of another, he
does not intend to do it always, or to do it long.
The American journeyman intends to be an em-
ployer. The American clerk has it in his own
mind that in good time he will he a capitalist.
Any man who is satisfied with perpetual depen-
dence, any man who is void of aspiration, and
incapable of effort, is not in harmony with the
spirit of American life, and with the genius of
American society. * * I advocate, indeed,
the sentiment of aspiration, but it is aspiration
following its piu'pose with the constancy of
Christian rectitude, and with the quiet of manly
perseverance. — Henry Giles.
COURTESY OF AMERICAJVS.
I like the Americans more and more. Either
they have improved wonderfully lately, or else
the criticisms on them have been wonderfully
exaggerated. They are particularly courteous
and obliging, and seem, I think, particularly
anxious that foreigners should carry away a fa-
vorable impression of them. As for me, let
other travellers say what they please of them, I
am determined not to be prejudiced, but to judge
of them exactly as I find them; and I shall most
pertinaciously contiime to praise them (if 1 see
no cause to alter my present humble opinion),
and most especially for their obliging civility
and hospitable attention to strangers, of which I
have seen many instances. — Lady Wortley.
Look for ruin when a coward wins.
For fear and cruelty were ever twins. — Aleyn.
200
GLEASON'S PKJTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE DOG MARKET AT PARIS.
The Doy^ Miirket at Puris is opfn on Sandays
between 12 and 2 o'clock on tlic site of the horse
mai-t. It in simply an uttair of tolerance, not of
munii-ipal retrnhition. The locality is tlie Bou-
levard lie I'llopital, at some disiance from the
cenire of the city. Do^^s, like hordes, have their
jockeys — fellows whom nothing will put out of
countenance, no ohjeclion citnfu^c, and who are
very skillful in fjildintj; the pill they force lln-ir
customers to swallow. One must look sharp in
this tnillie, and not lend too credulous an car to
the jioelical a(;counts of tiie dealers, who do not
■ scruple to endow their wares with all the pre-
cious qualities and virtues under heiivcn. You
must judf!:c, sec and examine I'or yonrself, and
especially take care that the animal ottered is
not a foundling — a genteel expression employed
to save the feelings of the dog jockeys. The
finding of dogs is a profession more generally
practised at Paris tlian most people imagine. It
has its precepts, its tricks and proeeedingp, per-
fectly well known lo those who are most inter-
ested in the knowledge. A dog is found, either
for tlie purpose of selling him out
of Paris — expatriating him, as
they call it — or, as is more often
the case, with the view of carrying
him hack in triumph to his mas-
ter— that is, if lie has been duly
advertised, and a truly liberal re-
ward promised for his recovery.
The owner often goes to the mar-
ket to hunt up and discover his
lost dog. This course, winch is
not always useless, would be vain
if tlie dog had been really fonml,
in the bad sense of the word ; his
new master would, in that case,
seek to sell him out of Paris, and
to have any chance of recovering
him it would then be necessary to
dive into all the holes and cor-
ners, which arc even unknown to
the police, and in which the very
honest dealers conceal their fraud-
ulently acquired dogs under
double locks, until they find a fa-
vorable opportunity of getting rid
of tliem. This would be a very
ditfii-ult, and not very amusing
course, and the better plan, in
such a case, is to give the police
officer of the horse mart, who has
also charge of the dog market, an
exact description of the animal
claimed, taking care to promise a
liberal and definite reward to the
possessor. For a franc, you can
have the description and the re-
ward copied and posted up among
the numerous notices which form
the unique decoration of a special
office established in the market
place. Speaking of these notices,
we read of one which attested at
once the profound grief and the
talent of tlie bereaved proprietor.
It was a delightful drawing in
colored crayon, representing the
finest of King Charles Spaniels.
We have not learned whether so
much solicitude attained its end.
The tlieft of a dog was an offence
punished formerly with much
greater severity than it is at pres-
ent. In the seventh century, the
man who killed a first rate hunt-
ing dog was fined six sous, three
sous for a dog of inferior merit,
three sous for a common dog, if
killed during the nigiit time, and
one sou only if the assassination
was committed during the day.
But to return to our dog market.
Let us see how the bargaining
goes on for one of these unfortu-
tunate animals who, with his ribs
apparent, his ears drooping, and
his tail I)etween his legs, seems to
solicit the pity of the purchaser.
"My good fellow, what kind
of a dog do you call this V
Now the dog happens lo be of
an indescribable race — something
between a greyhound and a mas-
tiff.
"Sir," replies the dealer, "this
is a bracli of the finest species. Twelve hun-
dred francs were offered for his mother and re-
fused. When he comes to a point, he stands
like a post."
" And this other dog ?"
" He has not his equal for docility and as a
pointer. Put a pheasant in this lantern, and
he'll point. You might go to Versailles for your
gun, yes, and breakfast there, and on your re-
turn, I'd wager a hundred dollars you'd find
him true to his point with one foot in 'the air."
"Haven't you anything better to show me."
"You are hard to please, sir."
The customer is going off, when the dealer
whispers in his ear:
" Bo you want a dog for the city V
" Certainly."
" Then I have nothing to offer you."
There are many persons who do not scruple
to sanction similar arrangements as those last
hinted at, but besides that, morally speakino-^
one niay affirm that it is indelicate lo purchase
a dog suspecrcfl of having been stolen, you ex-
pose yourself tp ft fhpusand annoyances, of
which tlie least wquljd be tp find yourself face to
face with the legitimatp prflprjetor, who, on
recognizing hjs dog, might pbjcct to hj^ /iitv|ng
tt s§(wn4 maijljcr^ ajjtJ exprpss hjmsclf pi^ tJjat
point rather enoi'getically. Every Snndny, (he
government puts uji at auction all stray dogs
seized during the )n*eceding week, and sometimes
the finest animals are knocked off in this way
for a song. This custom requii'cs some com-
ment. In the first place, the icgnlation ])ro-
scribing stray dogs, particularly in large cities,
is a salutary one. Jf wc rcHcct how many ter-
rible accidents a mad dog may cause, and that
it is precisely these vagabond animals, which re-
ceive neither necessary care nor nourishment
that arc most likely to be smitten with tlnit
dreadful scourge, the hydrophobin, it will doubt-
less be acknowledged that all means are juslili-
ahlc to purge the streets of them. Formerly
poi.son was employed for this purpose, and the
cify of Paris caused thousands of noxious pills
to be scattered at the corners of the streets, at
an expense of something like 12,000 francs a
year. The dog was thus attacked in his weakest
])oint (voracity), and the ravages caused were
enormous; but in this manner, quite as many
dogs with homes and masters were destroyed, as
vagabonds and runagates. The vexation caused,
upon the vci'dant are almost as flagrant and art-
ful as those of horse jockeys.- — The dog has ever
been, and will ever be, an object of interest lo
man all over the world. To no animal, per-
haps, arc mankind more indebted for failfiful
and unswerving afl'ection than to him. His in-
corruptible fidelity, his forbearing and enduring
attachment, his inexhaustible diligence, ardor
and obedience, have been noticed and eulogized
from the earliest times. This valuable quadru-
ped may be emphatically termed the fiiend of
man ; as, unlike other animals, his attachment
is purely personal, and uninfluenced by changes
of time and place. The dog seems to remember
only ilie benefits which he may have received,
and, instead of discovciing resentment when he
is chastised, exposes himself to torture, and even
licks the hand from which it piocceds. Without
the aid of this almost reasoning animal, how
could man have resisted the attacks of the sav-
age and ferocious tenants of the forest, or have
procured sustenance in those ages of the world
wlien agrifulturc was unknown ! When we at-
tempt to trace the source or origin of the species,
THE DOG MARKET, AT PARIS.
and the complaints preferred, induced the mag-
istracy to abandon this measure. The rag-pick-
ers were next authorized to rid the streets of
stray dogs ; all those found in the night time
were killed without mercy, and a bounty was
paid for the remains. But every medal has its
reverse, and so had the dog law. The rag-pick-
ers did not employ all the delicacy desirable in
their functions, and killed dogs in broad daylight
by their masters' sides. On one occasion, an
officer avenged his dog by immediately killing
his assassin. This plan was therefore abandoned
for the present system, by which, every dog found
at large upon the public street is sent to the
pound — Rue dc Petit Banquet, Boulevard dc
I'Hopital. There he is kept about eight days, if
he is worth the pains. At the expiration of that
time, if he is not claimed, he is killed; or, if a
dog of any value, he is sold at auction in the
midst of the dog market, a commissary an-
nouncing the sale to amateurs by ringing a hand
bell. Those in want of frizzled poodles, lap
dogs, and supplies of ordinary qualities, can ob-
tain them at the dog market. But staghotmds,
pointers, and the nobler varieties of the animal
are not readily to be found here. One must bo
a thorough connoisseur of dogs to attempt pur-
eji^sing them in this place. The tricks practised
it will be found that the changes and varieties,
which the influence of domestication and the in-
termixture of races have produced, are so multi-
farious and interminable as to baffle all research.
Pennant is of opinion that the original stock of
dogs in the old world is with great reason sup-
posed to be the jackal ; that from their tamed
offspring, casually crossed with the wolf, the
fox, and even the hyena, have arisen the num-
berless forms and sizes of the canine race. Buf-
fon, with much ingenuity, has traced out a gen-
ealogical table of all the known dogs, deducing
all the other varieties from the shepherd's dog,
variously affected by climate, and other casual
circumstances. From the recent observations of
travellers in the high northern parts of this con-
tinent, where, although dogs have been employed
for an incalculable length of time, they still re-
tain much of the external appearance and gen-
eral carriage of a wild animal, it would seem
that Pennant's suggestion is worthy of attention.
But, at the same lime, it should be remarked,
tliat the breed of dogs, produced from the wolf
and varieties of the domestic dog, during a
long succession of generations, still retains
marked characteristics of the predominance of
the savage qualities derived from its untamed
progenitors, in the keen and vivid expression of
the eye, ferocity of disposition and severity of
bite. It is also a singular fact, that the race of
European dogs evince as great an antipathy to
the Esquimaux species as they do to a wolf.
Linnajus has asserted that the tail of this animal,
in all its species and varieties, invariably bends
to the left ; but, although such is very often the
case, it is by no means universal, as the slightest
observation will demonstrate. Dcsmarest, how-
ever, has remarked a peculiarity as respects the
tail of dogs, which appears much belter to rank
as a specific character ; that, wlienevcr this mem-
ber is of white united with any other color, the
white is always terminal. The same remark
applies to other species of this genus equally
with the dogs. Naturalists have divided dogs in-
to several classes : 1. jnaslij/'s, including the dog
of New Holland, the mastiff (particularly so
called), tlie Danish dog, and the varieties of
greyhound; 2. the i!/;a;((Wx, including the spaniel
and its varieties, the water dog, the hound, the
terrier, the shepherd's dog, the wolf-dog, the Si-
berian dog, and the aleo or Peruvian dog; 3.
bulldogs, consisting of the bull dog and its vari-
eties, the house dog, the turnspit,
the pug, etc. The sagacity and
attention of the dog are so great,
tliat it is not difficult to teach
him to hunt, dance and exhibit a
thousand tricks. The mode in
which he is taught to point out
different cards is this : he is first
taught, by repeated trials, to
know something by a certain
mark, and then to distinguish one
ace from another ; food is fre-
<|uently offered him on a card he
is unacquainted with, after which
he is sent to search it out from
the pack ; and, after a little expe-
rience, he never mistakes. Profit-
ing by the discovery of receiving
food and caresses for his docility,
he soon becomes able to know
each particular card, which, when
it is called for, he brings with an
air of gayety, and without confu-
sion. But of the attainments by
which the dog has been distin-
guished, that of learning to speak
is the most extraordinary. The
celebrated Leibnitz communicat-
ed a fact of this nature to the
royal academy of France; and
were it not that he asserts that he
himself was a witness of the phe-
nomenon, we should scarcely
have dared to report the circum-
stance. The dog, from his ac-
count, could articulate about thir-
ty words, but it was necessary
that they should be first pro-
nounced to him. Dogs are found
in all parts of the world, with the
exception of a few groups of
islands in the southern Pacific
ocean. It is only in temperate
climates that they preserve their
ardor, courage, sagacity and other
talents. When transported to
very hot countries, they lose those
qualities for which we admire
them. These animals foi-m an
important article of food among
many nations. In China, the So-
ciety Islands, etc., young puppies
are considered a great delicacy,
and are allowed by Europeans,
who have overcome their preju-
dices, to be very sweet and pal-
atable. This taste for dog's flesh
is of very early origin. The an-
cients regarded a young and fat
dog as excellent food ; and Hip-
pocrates placed it on a footing
with mutton and pork, and, in
another place, observes, that the
flesh of a grown dog is whole-
some and nourishing. The Ro-
mans admired sucking puppies,
and sacrificed them to the gods,
as the most acceptable offering.
Virgil has not thought the praise
of dogs a subject unworthy of his
pen. He recommends it to the
husbandmen of Italy to pay par-
ticular attention to the rearing
and training of dogs. The dog
is born with his eyes closed ; they do not become
opened until the tenth or twelfth day. Its teeth
begin to change about the fourth month, and its
growth is perfected in two years. The female
generally has a litter of from six to twelve pups.
The dog seldom lives beyond fifteen years.
Among the many varieties of the dog tribe, there
is one called the Hare Indian Dog, thus describ-
ed by Richardson, with which we close this arti-
cle. He says : " This species of animal, which
is peculiar to North America, derives its name
from the Hare tribe of Indians, and others, on
the borders of the Great Bear Lake, and the
banks of the Mackenzie. It is a favorite animal
with those tribes, and is used by them in the
chase only ; not being of sufficient size for the
purpose of burden or draught. It is not so large
as the prairie wolf, but exceeds the red American
fox ; and yet it bears a greater resemblance to
the former than to the latter. The Hare Indian
dog has a small head, slender muzzle, erect ears
and thick; oblique eyes, slender legs, broad
hairy feet, and a bushy tail, which it usually
carries curled over its right hip. It is covered
with long hair, particularly about the shoulders,
p.nd at the roots there is a thick wool. The hair
on the top of the head is long, and on the hack
part of the cheeks is directed backwards."
GLEASOTs^'S PICTORIAL DP.AWIXG ROOM CO^MPANION.
261
%
THE BIRD 3IARKET AT PARIS.
The Bird Market of Paris is situated in the
Kue Lobineau, alone the market of St. Germain,
and the towers of St. Sulpiec. noticeable in the
eugravin<r, embellish it at the first glance. It is
characterized by animation, enthusiasm and va-
riety. The car recognizes it at once by the gay
and musical twittering that pervades its atmos-
phere. There are cages of every shape, in which
each bird contributes his quota to the music,
T\ithout troubling himself about his neighbor, or
disturbing the general harmony, and contributes
by tlie variety of his colors to the charm of the
picture. There are pigeons and turtle doves,
whose perpetual cooing serves as a base to the
flourishing soprani around him. Tiiere are rab-
bits, too, in this market, gray, black and white,
peaceably feeding on cabbage leaf and appearing
indilterent to the musical racket around them.
Here, dealers of the city have established them-
selves with their treasures for a day, along the
wall exposed to the sun, constructing ingenious
pyramids of cages, animated by the perpetual
motion of their inmates ; there, citizens and me-
chanics, trying to sell their birds,
their canaries or starlings, walk-
ing about, cage in hand, according
to an ancient custom to be noticed
hereafter. The taste for birds
can be traced to a great antiquity.
The ancient auttiors who have
spoken of them greatly in detail
are very numerous. Cornelius
Agrippa, an emperor { Frederic
11), son of Henry tlie Falconer,
Mainfioy, kinir of Sicily, Angclo,
and many others. The unknown
author of the celebrated work cln
linij Modus et de la Royne Rach
treats minutely of falconry and
the taking of birds in nets, and
the principles of the craft Iiave
remained unchanged for more
than five hundred years, though
many of the technical terms are no
longer the same. Fowlers were
persons of importance at this pe-
riod, when falconry, the most
beautiful and the most difficult of
all kinds of hunting, reign-d su-
preme in the favor of the great.
Many numerous and curious ordi-
nances were applied to it, and at
the risk of being charged with
pedantic antiquarianism we shall
quote a few immediately applica-
ble to our subject. The fowlers
■ — we speak of the year 1400 —
were established on the Pont au
Change — flanked on both sides by
a range of shops occupied by
money-changers and goldsmiths
— an ordinance had granted them
the privilege of fastening their
cages to the walls of the aforesaid
shops, and even without the leave
of tlie proprietors. Charles VI
was the author of tliis munifi-
cence. '* In consideration of which
they were bound to loose four
hundred birds when a king was
crowned, or a queen made her
entry into the city of Paris." The
money-changers and goldsmiths
often attempted to resist the priv-
ilege of the fowlers, but the par-
liament invariably sustained their
rights. The affair assumed a cer-
tain tragical complexion even.
Seeing that they could not attain
their ends legally, the goldsmiths
resorted to force, and one fine
day, the cages were all taken
down and with their contents
thrown into the Seine, the pro-
prietors receiving some injury in
the fracas this high-banded pro-
ceeding provoked. What a sub-
ject for an epic poem. The right
of the strongest, in spite of La-
fontaine, is always the best. But
it did not serve the money-chang-
ers in this crisis. The leader of
the coalition against the fowlers,
a goldsmith named Fillacicr, paid
for the rest; he was condemned,
by a decree of the parliament, to
a fine of twenty crowns for the
benefit of the victims or their representatives,
and ten crowns to the king, and committed to
prison till tlie payment of the judgment and
costs. Moreover the fowlers were commended
to the special care of their adversaries. Thus
ended the tragedy. Two hundred years later
came a special edict of the Marble Table forl)id-
ding the chase of birds from the middle of May
till the middle of August, designed to favor tlie
increase of the species. The young were not
allowed to be taken until arrived at a proper age
for rearing. Article III of the same statute per-
mitted the sale of birds in the Vallee de la Misere
{ Valley of Misery), now the poultry market, on
Sundrtys and festival days — religious festivals,
and days of jubilee and general processions ex-
cepted— from nine o'clock in the morning till
one o'clock. Change the Vallee de la Misere to
the Rue Lobineau, and the regulation is still the
same. Another custom, which seems to have
been preserved, was for the city dealers to sus-
pend their cages along the walls, and the out-of-
town dealers to hold them in their hands, in or-
der, says article IV of the statute — that the first
may be pointed out, as they sell dearer than the
others. But there were some otlier regulations
which show with what vigilance the interest of
purchasers was sought to be protected. The
out-of-town dealers who brought common cana-
ries or other birds to Paris for sale, were not al-
lowed to carry them to the Vallee de la Misere,
till they had previously exposed them on the
marble stone in the courtyard of the palace, on
the days of the entry of parliament. The follow-
ing article gives the key to this provision; in
fact, the city fowlers were forbidden to purchase
birds bf out of-town dealers in the Vallee before
eleven o'clock, and in the palace court before
noon, in order that the governor of the royal
aviary, and after him the citizens, might provide
themselves with birds, by taking advantage of
the good bargains olfered by the country dealers,
and without the city dealers having the oppor-
tunity of advancing prices by buying up the
whole stock of birds. With the same view, arti-
cle IX forbade the aforesaid city fowlers going
to meet the country dealers on their way to Paris
to purchase birds at a lower rate. But they had
A right to go to Havre or other seaports and buy
up birds brought from foreign countries. Among
other regulations, permission was given to em-
ploy experts to examine birds, to see if they were
to preserve the buyer from the deception and
tricks of the venders. Nearly, if not all, of these
precautions have been abandoned, and hence,
unquestionablv, the little importance attached to
this branch of trafllc, for nothing afl'ords a wider
field of fraud than the sale of a bird. Let us
take, for instance, the goldfinch, one of the pret-
tiest of our singing-birds. The price of an indi-
vidual varies from fifty centimes to twenty francs.
We can see, at a glance, what a margin this
affords the dealer to deceive, and the buyer to
to be deceived. Fifty centimes (about ten cents)
is the ordinary price of a goldfinch not a year
old — and therefore not perfectly plumed, and not
dieted or tamed. Twenty francs is the utmost
price for a perfect goldfinch. Now between
these extremes, how many qualities of age, color
and song are to be estimated, and how much
knowledge it requires to buy a goldfinch !
Among the most valuable acquisitions of late
years may be cited that of a charming little par-
roquet, the undulatus, scarcely larger than a tom-
tit, and quite as active. Its brilliant ])luinage is
of a clear green, streaking with little undulating
KIE
THE BIRD MARKET, AT PARIS.
sound and healthy; and the corporation of fal-
coners, who alone enjoyed the privilege of taking
birds in nets, were enjoined "to loose on the
festival days of the Holy Sacrament, and the en-
trance of the king and queen, in token of rejoic-
ing, as many small birds as should be judged
fitting, according to the ancient usage." Besides
the right of hunting and selling birds, the fowlers
of Paris claimed also the possession of an exor-
bitant and exclusive privilege, that of breeding
them in captivity. The burgesses presented a
remonstrance against this claim, in which the
following passage occurs : " It must be a pleas-
ure to us," they said, " and to our wives and
daughters, to raise canaries which we should
teach a thousand graces and winning ways ;
while those purchased on the Pont aux Chan-
gcurs are ditticult to teach, being too old." Their
petition was granted, and a decree of the Marble
Table of Jan. 29, 1697, allows citizens to multi-
ply birds in captivity. At present there are no
corporations of bird-catchers, and the use of nets
has been positively forbidden in all unenclosed
lands. This was the only way of preventing the
destruction of birds rendered imminent by the
number of net-hunters and the destructive kinds
of snares set for them. From these old regula-
tions we see how many precautions were taken
lines of a deeper tint, passing towards the head
into a light yellow, relieved by delicate feathers
of vivid ultramarine blue. The green and blue
mingle in the tail feathers. No bird is more ac-
tive in its motions or graceful in its manners.
Its little curved bill, almost hidden in plumage,
is constantly moving, and emits a song or rather
twittering much like that of the hcngaloe. Its
most valuable quality is the rapidity and ease
with which it is bred. Neither the cold weather
nor the moulting season prevents its laying and
incubating. The young birds are able to take
care of themselves, at an early age, and begin to
incubate six months after leaving the nest.
Thanks to this facility, the undulatus bids fair
soon to be as plenty in the bird market, and as
cheap, as the common yellow bird. — Turning to
our Encyclopedia Americana, while upon this
subject, we find the following interesting facts,
which we compile for the information of our
readers. The symmetry and beauty displayed
in the graceful forms and varied colors of this
part of creation, strike the most casual and at-
tentive observer ; and the wonderful adaptation
of their structure to their peculiar habits and
modes of living, is a source of constant admira-
tion to the student of nature. Almost every pe-
culiarity in the external appearance of birds is
fitted for the element they inhabit, and conducive
to swiftness of motion. Every part of their
frame is formed for lightness and buoyancy :
their bodies are covered with a soft and delicate
plumage, admirably calculated to protect them
from cold or moi.^ture ; their wings, although of
the lightest materials, are furnished with mus-
cles of such power as to strike the air with great
force, and to impel their bodies forward with
astonishing rapidity, whilst the tail acts as a rud-
der, by which their course can be directed at
pleasure. Their internal structure is in perfect
consonance with those external peculiarities.
Their lungs are fixed against the ribs, and envel-
oped with a membrane pierced with large holes,
which permit the air to pass into cavities in the
breast, abdomen, and even into the interior of
the bones. This conformation not only renders
them more buoyant, but also prevents any inter-
ruption in their respiration, by the rapidity of
their motion through a resisting medium, and
increases their vital energy. Some idea may be
formed of the capacity of birds for respiration
from the fact stated by Lavoisier, that two spar-
rows consume as much air as a
Guinea pig. The anterior ex-
tremities of birds, being solely
fitted for the action of flying, are
useless either for resting or grasp-
ing ; hence these animals are bi-
ped, and take objects from the
ground with their mouth, for
which purpose the neck and beak
are elongated and very movable ;
the body is also inclined forward
beyond the feet; the thighs are in
advance, and the toes of such a
length as to form a sufficient ba-
sis. The pelvis is very long, to
give origin to muscles supporting
the trunk on the thighs, and a set
of muscles pass from the pelvis to
the toes, so arranged that the sim-
ple weight of the bird retains the
toes in a fixed condition ; in con-
sequence, they are able to sit
perched upon one leg with secu-
rity, and without becoming fa-
tigued. The posterior parts of
the pelvis (in common language
known as the side-bones) are
elongated and separated, to give
room for the developement of the
eggs. The bill of all birds con-
sists of two mandibles, the upper
and lower, the former being gener
ally fixed and immovable, though
in the parrots it has the power of
motion to assist them in climbing.
None of the feathered tribe have
teeth, but the horny case which
covers the mandibles supplies the
place of these instruments, and is
sometimes serrated, so as to re-
semble them. In some birds, as
the falcons, the base of the beak
is covered with a skin called the
cere; and in the turkey, the car-
rier-pigeon, etc., it is covered with
a earneous appendage. The bill
is in some kinds straight; in oth-
ers curved upwards or down-
wards ; in some flat ; in others
comic, wedge-shaped, or hooked,
etc. It enables the bird to take
hold of his food, to strip or divide
it, to carry materials for building
bis nest, or food to his young, and
is a formidable weapon in the ra-
pacious tribe. The nostrils are
usually of an oval form, and pla-
ced near the base of the beak.
The eyes are so disposed as to
distinguish equally well near and
distant objects, and their sense of
sight is exceedingly acute. The
pparrow-hawk discerns small birds
from an incredible distance. Be-
sides the ordinary eyelids, there
is a third, called the nicitating
membrane, which is translucent,
and defends the eye of the bird
fiom the direct rays of the sun,
without obstructing the sight.
Birds have no external ear, with
the exception of the nocturnal
tribes : these have a large exterior
conch, in the form of a thin leath-
ery piece of flesh. The intemal ear, however, is
very large, and their sense of hearing very quick.
The brain of birds is distinguished by its great
proportionate size, and appears to be formed of
tubercles, and not of convolutions. Their diges-
tive powers are very great: the stomach is com-
posed of three parts — the crog, which is a thin
membranous expansion ; succenturlum, also a
membranous pouch, furnished with a multitude
of glands ; and the gizzard, which is provided
with two strong muscles, covered inside by a
velvet-like cartilage : here the food is ground, or
triturated, and its action is aided by the presence
of small stones, which birds swallow for that
purpose. The coverings or feathers of birds
are admirably calculated for security, warmth,
and celerity of motion. They are of three kinds;
down, smaller feathers, and quills. The feathers
which inve-t the body have small shafts and
large vanes, and are placed over each other like
shingles, so as, at the same time, to permit the
water to run off^ and to exclude the cold. The
down is placed under these, and serves as a fur-
ther protection against the cold : hence it is most
abundant in those species that inhabit the polar
regions. The feathery covering of birds consti-
tutes their peculiar beauty: on this nature has
lavishoil Iho most beautiful colors.
2()2
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COIMPANION.
t\Vrltt<>n for OlcnsoirM Pictorial.]
"DONT tilVJG US' TlIU Sllll*."
DY C. 0. DUNN.
TToundod, faint iinil bleeding, dying,
Noblo Liuvroncp deigiiH to npoiilt ;
Thougli tho but; of death Is lying,
Moaarcl),on iila bloodloss cboolc.
Guzo upon tbat uyo of firo,
Mark tliut fervent, quivering liii ;
Hoar liim I now his voice flwelln higher,
"fiailoral don't give up the ship!"
Thougli the fatal wound bna broken
Strongest tics of life apart;
Still affection's mystic token
Smiles within bii^ deathless heart.
Flames of life thjit erst were living.
names, that from bealth'a fount did sip,
Dimly burnt, when he wan giving
Orders — '■ Don't give up the ship I"
Noblo Lawrence I bravo commauderl
Fought, his country's rights to save ;
America's immortal stjindard
A guardian, o'er bim did wave.
Freedom's banner, brightly shining,
Faithful vigila o'er b;»i kept;
Hope, though dim and faintly beaming,
Never in hid bosom slept.
i m*^ t
[Written for Glejison's Pictorial.]
THE HAPPY MISTAKE:
— OK THE —
FORTUNES OF A POOR COUSIN.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
Mr. Lot Perkins was a merchant, and Mrs.
Lot Perkins was the merchant's wife. Mr. Lot
Perkins was thought to be a great deal more
wealthy than he really wus, and Mrs. Lot Per-
kins held her head a great deal higher in society
than slic ought to have done. They had one
daughter, eighteen years of age, who was as
proud as her mama, and whose blushes were
bought at the perfumer's, and whose charming
curls were given her in return for a certain sum
which she had paid to the hairdresser. Arabel-
la Perkins was not so beautiful as her mother
had often assured her; but her father's supposed
wealth gave a passing glow to her features, and
she ranked among the beauties.
There was, however, one beautiful being in
the merchant's household. It was Maria Per-
kins, a poor cousin, the daughter of the mer-
chant's deceased brotlier. She was a year older
than Arabella, but smaller in stature, more
youthful in appearance, and more strong in prin-
ciple. She was ever kind, ever gentle, with a
sweet smile almost continually resting upon her
features, except, indeed, when she met with chilly
harshness and unkindness from those about her.
And, alas ! this she met too often. Her position
in the merchant's family was but that ofa meni-
al at best, and in one respect she was even below
the kitchen cook, for she labored full as hard,
and received no pay for it, excepting her board
and the scanty clothing she wore, and even this
latter article she got but second-handed, for she
was obliged to wear the cast off clothing of
Arabella.
"There, Maria," said Mrs. Perkins, as she
handed the poor girl a soiled silk dress, " you
can fix that over for yourself, after you get
through your day's work."
"It will need much cleaning, ma'am," return-
ed Maria, as she saw the great wine-spots and
grease-marks.
"Then you can clean it; and, indeed, I think
you ought to be very grateful for it, at any rate.
'Tisn't many girls in your humble position that
can have silk dresses at all."
"I am grateful for all your kindness," said
the fair girl, with a smile.
" So you ought to be."
In fact, the poor girl was grateful ; but there
was a heart-pang her countenance did not show,
nor her lips speak. Her father and mother had
both been called away from earth, and when her
uncle bad taken her she was penniless ; there-
fore, she felt grateful; and when sorrow for the
unkindness she sometimes met sprang up in her
])03om, she would drive it back if possible, but
hide it from others at any rate.
. " 0, mother !" exclaimed Arabella, springing
into the room just as Maria took tlie dress,
" what shall I do '? Lucicn MiUium has arrived,
and father says he will call here this week. My
new dress must be finished before he calls."
" Certainly it must," said the mother. " I de-
clare, Bella, we must be up and moving. Wlicn
you arc hin wife — "
" O, mother, dont ! Miiria, go out of the
room I"
The fair cousin turned at tliis impcriou.s com-
mand, and left the iipiirtment. What might,
under otlicr circumstances, Inive caused her a
thrill of anguish, proved a relief to hci- now, for
the mention of Lucicn Milburn's name had pro-
duced a strange emotion in her soul, and she
gladly embraced the opportunity thus atfordcd
her of hiding it from her proud relations.
This Milburn was a young man, whose father
had, years before, been a business partner with
Mr. Perkins; Imt he had, some time before,
moved to New Orleans, whore he had amassed
considerable wealth. Between the two parents
there had been a sort of agreeable understanding
that Arabella, when she was old enough, should
be Lucien's wife ; and during the time that Mr.
Milburn lived in New Orleans,. the subject was
often mentioned between the two friends. Wlicn
the latter died, whicli was about a year previous
to the opening of our story, and left the wliole of
liis vast wealth to his son, Mr. Perkins corres-
ponded occasionally with Lucicn, and the subject
of the marriage still remained a tlicmc of the
correspondence; so that, at the present time,
though the young people had not seen each other
for years, yet the parents of Arabella looked
upon her as just about the same as betrothed to
the wealthy heir.
" Father says Lucien will send us word when
he intends to call," said Arabella, as soon as
Maria had left the room, and slie had recovered
from the shock her sensibilities had received by
her mother's hasty speech.
"Certainly he will," returned mama; "but,
perhaps, he may be at the party to-night. If
Mrs. Longwortb knows he is in town, she will
certainly invite him. You must fix up for it, at
all events. Now, my daughter, you must keep
in your mind the value of the prize you have to
win. Lucien Milburn is a husband not to be
met with often, and you must study out his weak
points and flatter them. If you manage proper-
ly, you have nothing to fear."
" Let me alone for that," said Arabella, with a
toss of her curl-Iadened head.
And thus, for an hour, did the mother and
daughter plan together for the consummation of
their object — the trapping of the rich young hus-
band ; and when they adjourned, they looked
upon the matter as securely fixed. Arabella
studied languishing positions, and with a large
mirror before her, she studied any number of
smiles that she had learned to call at will to her
countenance. She went through a new course
of steps and shutHes, and practised assiduously
the latest fashionable sentences she had learned
from the Prench. The most difficult task, how-
ever, was to decide upon the exact tableau she
should introduce when Lucien should " pop the
question." But even this all-important point
was at length settled, and the conquest was sm-e.
That evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lot Perkins and
their dauglxter went to Mi's. Longworth's party,
and Maria was left at work upon a new satin
dress for Arabella, with directions to remain in
the large parlor, and answer the call of the door-
bell. She remained undisturbed at her work
until after nine o'clock; but, at length, the door-
bell was rung. The poor cousin v.-as gathering
the rich fabric up to lay it aside, when she heard
the steps of one of the kitchen girls in the hall,
and ere she could gain the parlor door, it was
thrown open, and a young gentleman entered.
" I\Iiss Perkins, I believe," said the stranger,
in a voice full of richness and afl'able ease.
" Yes, sir," almost unconsciously fell from
Maria's lips.
" My name is Milburn," continued the new
comer, with a smile, "and if I am not mistaken,
circumstances have rendered us far from stran-
gers to each other."
Ashe thus spoke, he took a seat; but in a
moment more, as Maria's sweet face was turned
full upon him, he started up and gazed earnestly
into the fair girl's features.
"What!" he exclaimed. "I cannot be mis-
taken. Have we not played together when
children V
" Yes, sir," murmured Maria.
" You once came with your mother and spent
a long time at our house in the city, years ago,
when wc wei'C both laughing, .sporting beings V
" Yes, sir," answered Maria, striving hard to
keep back the .strange emotions tliato-aged in
her bo.som.
" Strange that I should have forgotten a cir-
cumstance that now comes so vividly back to
mc," uttered Lucicn Milburn, once more sinking
into his seat; "but the business of active man-
hood makes sad liuvoe among the memories of
cliildhood. Yet, Miss Perkins, when we can
sometimes call up to mind those scenes of inno-
cence and guilclcssness, they come with a calm,
soothing inllucnee over the soul. Do you not
Komctinies live in the past?"
" Yes, sir," i-eturncd Maria, while a bright (car
glistened on her dark lashes. "Sometimes I
feel that all of joy is in the past; but, still, the
present is kind, for it leads us to the future, and
ttie future iiolds out to us the bright torch of
hope."
" You are right," uttered the young man, with
his eyes fastened in beaming admiration upon
the blushing girl before him. " You are right.
Hopes are ever rising, and though some of them
may be false lights, yet our present happiness
clings to them for support. God grant that
some of our sweetest hopes mayend in fruition."
Maria was almost astonished at the presence
of the power that sustained her, and ere long she
became so absorbed by the mystic charm of cir-
cumstances, by the words of her companion, and
by the answering sentiment that they found in
her own soul, that she fell into a conversation as
easy and untrammelled as though she had been
talking with an acquaintance of years.
As the clock struck eleven, Mr. Milbiun took
bis hat, and arose to depart.
" Miss Perkins," he said, in a tone made
strangely soft by some inward feeling, " it has
been long years since I have passed two hours
so pleasantly as those that have just fied ; but, I
trust, they may not be the last. Hope — that
hope in which we all must live — tells me they
are but the precursors of many and happier ones
to follow."
Maria stood for a moment where Lucien had
left her, and then, as she heard his departing
footsteps upon the side-walk, she sank upon the
sofa, and buried her face in her hands.
"Indeed!" she murmured, as she at length
arose, and moved towards the place where lay
her work, " what a bright, and yet a cruel dream
is this ! ' Two hours of happiness,' he said.
Yes, they have been happy ; but for me they can
bring no more."
It was in vain that she endeavored to sew, for
her eyes were filled with tears, and her hands
trembled. At length her relations returned, and
Arabella's first movement, as she entered the
parlor, was to see how her dress progressed.
" Well, I declare !" she exclaimed, "what a
lazy good-for-nothing you must have been. Just
look at that, mother, not half done,"
"What on earth have you been doing, Maria?"
sharply asked Mrs. Perkins. "I expected you
would have had this all finished to-night, and I
have a great mind to make you sit up and do it
now, I don't wonder you cry about it. Any-
body ought to cry to be so negligent as you have
been."
"Perhaps she isn't well," suggested Mr. Per-
kins, as he noticed" Maria's pain-marked counte-
nance.
" Then you can go to bed now," added the
unfeeling woman ; " but this must be finished be-
fore noon to morrow. Do you understand?"
" Yes, ma'am." returned the poor girl ; and
with a bursting heai't she hurried from the room.
Little sleep visited the pillow of Maria that
night. The circumstances of the evening whirl-
ed through her brain till her head ached ; but,
still, a soft stream of sunlight would now and
then break across her padi. The soft, sweet
words of him who had sat with her a few hours
before still sounded in her ears; but suddenly,
like the crashing ofa temple, that source of com-
foi't was thrown down.
"He has mistaken me for my cousin !" she
wildly uttered to herself, and sank sobbing upon
the couch.
That niglit, Mr. Perkins held a long consulta-
tion with his wife, the amount of which was that
young Milburn nmst be secured as a means of
propping up the father-in-law. Mr. Lot Perkins
was upon the stormy sea of pecuniary difficulty,
and he wanted the aid of Milburn's purse. He
licsitated not at the barrier that strict honesty
imposed, but reckless of moral consequences he
laid his jjlans.
"Well, Lucien," said Henry Porrcst, on the
next morning after the visit above mentioned, as
they met at the hotel, "did you make your in-
tended visit last night?"
Henry Porrcst had been a school-fellow with
Lucien, and the confidence of former years was
mutually extended by each to the other as soon
as they had met on the return of the latter from
the South.
" Yes, Harry," returned Lucicn, with u joyous
beaming smile.
"And did you see Miss Perkins?"
"Yes,"
" Well, and wliat is your opinion ?"
" She is an ungtl."
" P-h-c-c-e-c-w h !"
" What do you mean by that, Harry?"
" Are you in earnest, Lucicn V
" To be sure I am."
"Then I give you joy of your discovery.
You have found out what no one else has ever
done."
" What do you mmti ?"
" You say Miss Perkins is an angel ?"
" Yes."
"And she suits your taste? That is, she
comes up to your beau ideal of a woman ?"
" Yes."
" Then I have nothing to say."
" Yes ; but you shall say it, though. Now
tell me what you mean."
" You will be oit'ended, Lucien."
"No, Harry. Go on."
"Well, then, the lady in question has the
name of being anything but an angel. She bor-
rows her beauty from the rouge-cup, has dull
leaden eyes, is ignorant, has a heart as hard as a
flint, is proud and overbearing, and ready to
jump for the first rich husband she can catch."
" 0, how base is the slander ! Paint ! — Hariy,
I saw her rich color come and go last night, like
the sunset-clouds of heaven. Ignorant ! — She
has a mind overrunning with the richest gems
of thought. Hard-hearted, say you? — By hea-
vens ! Harry, she has a heart as tender as a
babe's. Proud! — No, no ; she is as meek and
mild as the petted lamb, and as gentle as the
dove. And I can tell you more than that. I
found in her one whom my heart has held in se-
cret for years — the laughing innocent playmate
for a month when wc were but children."
" Then either you or myself must be wonder-
fully mistaken," said Henry, with a puzzled
look.
" You are wonderfully mistaken. But tcU me,
Harry, how could you have formed such a set of
will opinions ?"
" Partly by observation, and partly by the re-
port of others-"
" The report of others is good for nothing ;
but tell me of your own observations."
" Well ; first, I don't like the color of her
hair. That's beginning at the head."
" Why, man, her hair is pure as refined gold."
" Then she's colored it. Then I don't like the
hatchet-look of her face."
" Her face ! Why, it is the very acme of har-
monious perfection,"
" Then I don't like her tall, gu-afFe-liko
figure."
" Why, bless my soul, Harry, are you crazy?
She is a perfect model in her form — not over
five feet two, and graceful as the wild gazelle."
" Well, Lu., either you or I are blind. I sup-
pose you will mairy the girl."
"I intend to."
" Then I hope you will find out that I am
mistaken."
" I know I shall. The girl is industrious, too,
for I found her sewing last evening."
" Sewing !"
" Yes."
" Then it was to trap you.'*
" No ; for she did not know that I was com-
ing. I told Mr. Perkins I would send word be-
fore I called ; and I took her unawares last even-
ing on purpose to read her before she should
prepare for the occasion."
" By the way," muttered Henry, half to him-
self, " Mrs. Longworth's party came ofl' last
niglit, and I was there. At what time did you
call at Perkins's 1"
"At nine, and stopped till eleven."
"Egad, Lu., I have made a mistake," cried
young Forrest, bringing his hands together with
a vigorous slap.
" Of course you have ; but how could you
have made so wild a one ?"
" Simply by mistaking the person."
" How is that ?"
"There arc tico Misses Perkins. I had my
mind on the other one."
"Aha!" laughed Lucien, feeling greatly re-
lieved.
"Ha-ha-a-a-ha!" laughed Henry, with a com-
ical look of roguery stealing over his features,
"/meant Arabella Perkins," said Lucien.
"Did you call her Arabella last evening?"
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROO^I COMPANION.
263
"No; I wasn't so familiar."
Henry turned away to hide the rogue-imp that
danced in his eyes, and shortly afterwards the
breakfast- bell rang.
During the day, Lucien called upon several of
those who had been friends of his father, and
once or twice it was whispered in his ear that
Mr. Lot Perkins was on the brink of bankruptcy.
One man assured him that he saw one of the
merchant's notes on 'Change for sale. Though
these things had but little effect upon the young
man's mind, as far as the real worth of the
daughter was concerned, yet they could not but
throw him into a thoughtful mood, and, at
length, he began to wonder if it were possible
that he could have been mistaken in his estima-
tion of Arabella's character ; but that thought
was at once hushed, for he was too good a judge
of human character to be thus deceived.
In course of time, Lucien called at Kr. Per-
kins's counting-room, and informed him that he
should visit his family on the following evening.
He found the old gentleman in the midst of a
heap of papers, and he noticed that some of
them were quickly hidden from sight wlien he
entered. A warm greeting, but yet palpably
strained in its cordiality, was extended to the
young man, and in the course of the conversa-
tion, Perkins took good care to speak of the im-
mense anxiety which his daughter felt to see the
friend of her childhood ; and he failed not to
weave into his conversation sundry commenda-
tions of the young lady. Some things that he
said about his daughter sounded rather strange-
ly to the young man, but the latter attributed
them to the natural partialities of a father, and
let them pass.
" Let's see," said Lucien ; " you have a bro-
ther, I believe?"
"I had one, but he died some years ago."
"And his wife?"
" She, too, is dead,"
" I hardly remember him, and yet I think I
have seen him. Was it you or your brother that
saved me once from drowning 1 I think I have
beard my father speak of such a circumstance."
"Ah, yes. It was my brother, I believe," re-
turned the merchant, with much hesitation ; and
then he changed the subject of conversation.
" This evening, then, we may expect you V
"Yes."
"At what time?"
There was an anxiety manifested in this last
question of the old gentleman's, and Lucien at
once noticed it.
"At nine o'clock," he returned.
"At nine. Then we will be at home to meet
yon."
In a few moments more, the young man left,
and when he reflected upon the manner of the
merchant, something whispered to him that all
was not right. There had been a constraint
upon certain points, and a sort of over-reaching
in others, and he allowed himself to sink into a
nervous thought ; but, ere long, the sweet face
and sweeter words of the fair girl, who had taken
possession of his heart, came back to his mind,
aud he felt re-assured.
Instead of waiting until nine o'clock on that
evening, to pay his promised visit, he went an
hour earlier.
Mr. and Mrs. Perkins were in the parlor, and
so was Arabella and Maria. The former of the
two girls was sitting on the music-stool, and the
latter was arranging some ornaments in her
proud cousin's hair.
" Come, huiTy, Maria," said Mrs. Perkins,
**for I want you to go to your own room as soon
as you get through."
At that instant the door-bell rang, and ere
there was much chance for a theatrical arrange-
ment of things, Lucien Milburn was ushered in-
to the apartment.
" Aha, good evening," uttered Mr. Perkins,
with a smile. '■ My wife, Mr. Milburn. This is
my daughter, Arabella, sir."
Arabella arose mincingly from her seat, moved
as though she were afraid of breaking in two by
over-exeriion, and calling up a very delicate
smile through the paint, she put daintily forward
two fingers of her right hand.
"Is this your daughter, sir?" uttered Lucien,
so bewildered by the circumstance that he forgot
to take the jewel-laden band that was so proper-
ly proffered. " TJds your daughter ?" be con-
tinued, gazing upon the palpable paint and ex-
cruciatingly nice dying look that was thus raised
up before him.
" Yes," stammered the father.
" And this ? Wlio is she ?" anxiously asked
the young man, pointing to Maria.
" One of our servant girls," quickly returned
Mrs. Perkins, with a flushed face. "Maria,
leave the room instantly !"
"Maria!" repeated Lucien, with a start.
" Stop, stop ! It is your brother's child, Mr.
Perkins."
And as he thus spoke, he plaf;ed his hand
upon the fair girl's arm, and arrested her pro-
gress from the room.
"Yes," faintly stammered the merchant.
" We give her a home here to protect her from
poverty," added Mrs. Perkins.
"Heavens! what a mistake I have made !"
said the young man, as he gazed first upon the
thing of paint, jewels, and satin, and then turned
his eyes upon the trembling, fi-ightened being
who had stopped beneath his touch.
" Yes, yes," murmured Maria. " It was all a
mistake. Let me go."
" 0, indeed ! it was a happi/ mistake. No, no ;
you must not, shall not, go from mc !"
"Mr. Milburn, what is the meaning of all
this V at length asked Perkins, as he found a
tongue to articulate.
"It means simply this," returned the young
man, withont hesitation, as be drew Marianearer
to him. "I came here with a slight expectation
of finding one whom I might make my wife. A
few evenings since I spent two hours here with
this young lady, and until now I thought she
was your daughter. 1 found in her one who
was imaged in the love of m}'' childhood, and I
loved her again, not as a child of yours, but for
what I found her to be."
" You deceitful huzzy !" gaspeti Mrs. Perkins,
as Arabella, with an excellently modulated
scream, fainted upon the sofji.
"0! I thought you knew me, then," uttered
Maria.
" This is a strange piece of business, sir,"
pronounced Mr. Perkins, with a flash of anger
and disappointed hopes. " Of course, sir, you
will, now that j^ou see your en-or, make repara-
tion to my daughter, and allow that girl to go
about her business."
"As for your daughter, sir," returned Lucien,
" I have no reparation to make. That belongs
to you ; but as for this fair being, if she will but
accept the hand I now offer, togetlier with the
heart that is already hers, this ' filra/ir/e business '
may be easily settled. Speak, Maria ; will you
be mine !"
" Yes !" trembled upon the poor cousin's lips,
and as she spoke, her head sank upon the bosom
of him to whom her answer was directed.
Mrs. Perkins knew not what to do, so she
happily fainted by the side of her daughter,
and wliile the husband was gone for the smelling-
salts, Lucien drew Maria aside, and whispered a
few hurried words in her ear. A beam of hap-
piness sprang to her cheek as she consented to
the proposition she had heard, and shortly after-
wards Lucien Milburn left the house. He now
understood the strange remarks of Harry For-
rest, and he knew that Perkins had been aiming
at his money; but in his heart he thanked God
for the turn affairs had taken.
On the next morning, he called again at the
merchant's dwelling, but no one was "at home"
to see him, excepting Maria ; but seeing that she
was the only one he wished to see, the disap-
pointment was bearable.
In less than a week, the " Poor Cousin " had
become Mrs. Milburn. Her dream had not been
cruel, for earth had not a happier realization
than was her's.
Before Lucien took his beautiful wife away
with him to his sunny home in the South, he
beard of the failure of Mr. Lot Perkins, and
though be would gladly have helped a friend in
distress, yet he felt that Mr. Perkins and his fa-
mily needed the lesson they would thus receive,
and he left them to profit by it.
THE GREAT MORAL WANT.
AVhat is the quality in which the improvident
masses are so deficient? — sdf-restraint, the abili-
ty to sacrifice a small present gratification for a
prospective great one. A laborer, endued with
due self restraint, would never spend his Satur-
day-night's wages at the public-house. Had he
enough self-restraint, the artizan would not live
up to his income during prosperous times, and
leave the future unprovided for. jMore self-re-
straint would prevent imprudent marriages and
the growth of a pauper population. And were
there no drunkenness, no extravagance, no reck-
less multiplication, social miseries would be
trivial. — Social Statics.
I am not now in fortune's power ;
He that is down can sink no lower. — Sutler.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
GOOD-BY, MAMA.
BT MBS. M. W. CURTIS.
" Good-by, mama," said a lovely child,
And the angel of death hovered near ;
But they saw it not in that playful smile,
Or that happy voice so dear.
" Good-by, good-by," said the little one,
And before the midnight hour
The angel had marked her for his own,
lie had blighted the little flower.
Calm and still little Mary is sleeping now,
A marble-like, dreamless sleep ;
Cold, icy cold, is that fair young brow,
She has gone where they never weep I
She has joined her infant brother there,
Where flowers celestial bloom ;
And joys of earth may not compare
With bliss, beyond the tomb.
Mary and Arthur are angels now,
Where no good-by is spoken ;
Nor shadows come to cloud the brow,
Where love ties are unbroken.
THE TRIAL OF BAXTER.
The trial of Baxter, the celebrated Non-con-
formist, supplies an admirable specimen of the
fashion in which a criminal case was conducted
under these respectable auspices in theyear 16S5.
When the trial came on, a crowd of those who
loved and honored Baxter filled the court. Two
whig barristers of great note, PoUexfen and
Wallop, appeared for liie defendant. PoUexfen
had scarce began his address to the jury, when
the chief justice broke forth : " PoUexfen, I know
you well. I will set a mark upon you. You
are the patron of the faction. This is an old
rogue, a schismatical knave, a hypocritical vil-
lain. He hates the Liturgy. He would have
nothing but long-winded cant without book;"
and then his lordship turned up his eyes, clasped
his hands, and began to sing through his nose,
in imitation of what he supposed to be Baxter's
style of praying — " Lord we are thy people, thy
peculiar people, thy dear people." PoUexfen
gently reminded the court that his late majesty
had thought Baxter deserving of a bishopric.
"And what ailed the old blockhead, then," cried
Jeffreys, " that he did not take if?" His fury
now rose to madness. He called Baxter a dog,
and swore that it would be no more than justice
to whip such a villain through the whole city.
Baxter himself attempted to put in a word ; but
the chief justice drowned all expostulation in a
torrent of ribaldry and invective, mingled with
scraps of Hudibras. " My lord," said the old
man, " I have been much blamed by Dissenters
for speaking respectfully of bishops." " Baxter
for bishops," cried the judge, " that's a merry
conceit, indeed! I know what you mean by
bishops ; rascals like yourself, Kidderminster
bishops, faction Presbyterians." Again Baxter
essayed to speak, and again Jeffreys bellowed :
"Richard, iVichard, dost thou think we will let
thee poison the court? Kichard, thou art an
old knave. Thou hast written books enough to
load a cart, and every book as full of sedition as
an egg is full of meat. By the grace of God,
I'll look after thee. I see a great many of your
brotherhood waiting to know what i\ ill befall
their mighty don. But by the grace of God Al-
mighty, I will crush you all !" The noise of
weeping was heard from some of those who sur-
rounded Baxter. " Snivelling calves !" said the
judge. — Macaalay's History of England.
A WORD WITH BROTHER JONATHAN.
Perish all the cod and mackerel in the ocean —
fine eating as they are — before we go to war with
brother Jonathan for a cause as scaly as any fish
can be that have no scales. We can't think of
quarrelling with Jonathan about fish, at a time
when our general enemy is plotting everywhere
to reduce us, in a greater measure than we like,
to a fish diet; and would, if possible, move all
the nations, and heaven and earth, and another
place also, even worse than Ireland, against us
for that end. We must recollect that Jonathan
is now the only national creature of any impor-
tance, except ourself, that is not priest-ridden
and soldier- ridden ; the soldier in the saddle,
and the jack-priest on the crupper. Our natural
relation to Jonathan at present should be that of
a league, offensive and defensive, against despo-
tism and papal petticoat government all over the
world. — Punch.
A BILJLION.
What a very great sum is a billion ! It is a
million of millions. A million seems large
enough — but a million of millions ! how long do
you suppose it would take you to count it ? A
mill which makes one hundred pins a minute, if
kept to work night and day, would only make
fifty-two miUions five hundred and ninety-six
thousand pins a year — and at that rate the mill
must work twenty thousand years without stop-
ping a single moment, in order to turn out a bil-
lion of pins ! It is beyond our reach to conceive
it — and yet when a billion of years shall have
gone, eternity will seem to have just begun.
How important then is the question, " Where
shall 1 spend eternity V — Savannah Courier.
An hour's industry will do more to produce
cheei fulness, suppress evil humors, and retrieve
your affairs than a month's moaning.
THE FORBIDDEN BLUSH.
Bed, it is said, enrages the bovine race; but
we doubt the fact, stated as a peculiar trait. The
thousands of instances in which old women with
red cloaks, farmers with red waistcoats, and
young girls with red ribands, have braved herds
of horned cattle, are forgotten, in favor of the
instances in which some unlucky wight with red
appurtances of one sort or other has been gored
and trampled. It is true that t!ie baited bull of
the Spanish arena is inflamed by a red flag waved
before his eyes ; but we question whether any
other gentleman would not be equally irritated
by the same treatment, and whether any other
would not serve. Take any grandee, for exam-
ple, place him in the arena,' shoot into his sides
a few small darts adorned with fusees, whirligigs,
and other variations of pyrotechnic art, prick
him witli a few sharp goads, and tlien wave a
riband of any color before his eyes, and see if
human irritability is not as much excited as bo-
vine would be — ay, even though the riband be
yellow. The greatest argument with which we
are acquainted in favor of the red theory, is the
conduct of French officials and other Austrian-
ized animals. In Spain, a man may wear a red
smoking or travelling cap, and even a red sash,
without molestation ; but, as we have observed
experimentally, no sooner docs he cross the fron-
tier than the otficial flies at him and obliges him
to reUnquish the forbidden hue. It is a French
axiom at present, that gules and government
cannot coexist within the Gallic boundary. The
antipathy extends, to a certain degrees, through-
out absolutist domains. The reason foritisstUl
obscure. Eouge is the ensign of two orders —
the meretricious, and the ultra-republican ; but
"supported by seven millions," "my lord bis
highness, the prince president," cannot be alarm-
ed at the mere memory of the Leicester Square
classes of society. Red, however, is the color of
blood, and, probably, "my lord," &c., in com-
mon with his fellow-philanthropists of Naples
and Vienna, may feel a fain ting-qualm at the
sight. _ One proof of the supposition is, that
when it became necessary for his plans to shed
it, he tried to do so in the dark. — Spectator.
STRANGE EXHIBITION.
Great excitement was created at Cremorne
Gardens, and indeed throughout the metropolis,
recently, by the extraordinary daring gymnas-
tic performance of Edward Bouthellier, under
and with the Cremorne balloon. Bouthellier is
one of the clever artists performing in SouiUier's
Cirque Oriental, under the title of the Italian
Brothers, and he was announced to make a dis-
play of his extraordinary powers witli the bal-
loon ; but the public were not prepared for what
actually did take place. At 7 o'clock, a splen-
did car, drawn by four beautiful horses abreast,
was driven into the balloon-ground, from which
descended Bouthellier appropriately dressed,
and with a moment's preparation, he" bowed to
the surrounding multitude, and catching hold of
a small rope which was attached to the car, was
immediately borne up and away. In an instant
he threw himself over and was hanging by his
heels without the slightest assistance of the hands,
though the balloon was bearing him along at a
rapid rate, and for fully half an hour did he exe-
cute all the difficult positions for which he and
his brother are so celebrated in the Cirque.
Scarcely had the feelings of astonishment at this
display subsided when his return was announced.
The balloon had descended in Victoria Park,
and a gentleman having kindly lent him his
horse, he was back in the grounds by 9 o'clock,
and was literally carried in triumph to the
Cirque, where he went through bis usual per-
formances, and from thence to the dancing
arena, where he was received with unbounded
applause. — London Sun.
HARSH EDUCATIONAL SYSTEBI.
What Anselm, of Canterbury, at the end of
the eleventh century, said against the rigid mo-
nastic discipline, is admirable. An abbot com-
plained, in conversation with him, of the incor-
rigible youths who would not be amended by all
the correction he administered. Anselm replied :
"You never cease beating the boys, and what
sort of men will they be when they grow up ?"
" Stupid and brutish," answered the abbot. "A
good sign for your method of education," said
Anselm, " when you educate men into brutes !"
The abbot answered : " Is that our fault? We
try to compel them in all manner of ways, to be
better, and yet we effect nothing." "You com-
pel them 1" answered Anselm. " Tell me, then,
I pray you, if you planted a tree in your garden,
and enclosed it on all sides, so that it could not
spread out its branches in any direction, aud
after some years transplant it in an open space,
what kind of tree would it have become ! Cer-
tainly a useless one, with crooked, tangled
branches. — And whose fault would it be but your
fault, who trained the tree in this over-compul-
sory manner." — Meander's Memonals of Christian -
Lifi- __
ECHOES.
The best echoes are produced by parallel walls.
At a villa near Milan, there extend two parallel
wings about fifty-eight paces from each other, the
surfaces of which are unbroken either by doors
or windows. The sound of the human voice, or
rather a word quickly pronounced, is repeated
above forty times, and the report of a pistol from
fifty to sixty times. Dr. Plot mentions an echo
in Woodstock Park, which repeats seventeen
syllables by day, and twenty by night. An echo
on the north side of Shipley church, in Sussex,
repeats twenty syllables. There is also a re-
markable echo in the venerable abbey church of
St. Albans. — Natural Pheiiomena.
264
OLEASON'S nCTCmiAL DRAWING I10()]M COMPANION.
VIEW OF THE LUNATIC ASYLUM, AT WORCESTEE, MASd.
liUNATIC ASYLUM AT WORCESTER.
We present on this and the opposite page a
series of pit'tures, drawn for us by our artist, and
rcliitini: to Worcester, Mass., and some of its
notable matters. Above, wc present a tine view of
the Lunatic AsyUim, so well known in the coun-
try. Thisediiice was erected in 1831-32, in pur-
suance of an act of the legislature, passed the
10th of March, 1830. The tirst patient entered
on the 19th of January, 1833. By the end of the
year there were 1 64 patients ; in the first year it
became so crowded that no less than thirty appli-
cants were rejected for want of room. Dr.
Samuel B. AVoodward became the superintendent
that yeai'. In 1S33-34, 272 patients were ad-
mitted, and 154 discharged; 70 were incurable,
who had been previously inmates of jails, alms-
houses and houses of correction, from periods
ranging from ten to thirty-two years. In 1834,
47 were received, and 46 applications were re-
jected for want of space. At that period, the
proportion of insane persons was one in a thou-
sand to the whole population. In 1835, an ex-
tension was commenced, running hack fioin the
former building 134 feet, and 34 feet^vide. This
addition was occupied Sept. 28, 1836, by the
class of incurables, being adapted for the occu-
pancy of 57 patients. A north wing, accommo-
dating 59 persons, was finished in September,
1837. The legislature, in that year, authorized
the erection ot a chapel, also a wash-house, shoe-
maker's shop and a carpenter's shop. In tlie
year 1838, the legislature granted the sum of
$8000 to defray the current expenses of the hos-
pital, and S2500 for furnishing proper apart-
ments for the sick. In the year 1841, the hospi-
tal received a handsome bequest of George S.
Johonnot, Esq., being in cash, mortgages and
stocks, valued at Si45,S43 72, subject to life an-
nuities to twenty-three individuals, amounting to
52520 annually. In 1843, the trustees were au-
thorized to erect additional buildings, sufticiently
large for the accommodation of l.'iO insane per-
sons, and to provide all necessary accommoda-
tions and furniture for the same. This enlarge-
ment was commenced the same year, and con-
sisted of a wing, extending 100 feet south, and
160 feet east, leaving an open court, 64 feet wide,
between the old and, new lateral wings. This
new stnicture was called the "Johonnot Hall,"
out of respect to the late George S. Johonnot,
and his widow, Mar.ha Johonnot.
Below, we give a fine and accurate view of a
scene in Lincoln Square, representing the new
Antiquarian Hall, Court Houses and Unitarian
Church. On the opposite page will be found
some of the Indian curiosities, etc., preserved in
the building known as Antiquarian Hall. In
the last report of the committee of the society,
we find the following remarks relative to the
LINCOLN yQUAllIT;, WOKCESTERj MASt^.j WITH A VIEW OF TIIK NEW ANTIQUAIUAN HALL, OLD AND NEW COUUT HOUSES^ AND UNITARIAN CUUilCIL
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWINCx ROOM CO:\IPANION.
265
follection of curiosities : "The sciences of lan-
^iiaj;;e, anatomy, and geology, have opened to
explorers new fields, rich in those productions,
which have, in this our day, rlirown a flood of
light upon things before imperfectly understood.
Tlirough the evidence disclosed by fossil remains,
we can ante date all written history, and satisfy
ourselves what animals and fishes existed before
letters were known, and, through the help ot
anatomy, assisin to them their appropriate classi-
tication. So it is with languages. Their ele-
ments are easily analyzed, and it is not difficult
BELT -WORN BY KING PHILIP.
to trace the proofs of a kindred relation, where
it exists, until the head or source is discovered.
But it rakes time, labor and patience. This
source of evidence is open to us among the In-
dians, and in the absence of all written records
may, and probably will, lead us step by step till
the parent tongue is found, and the line of kin-
dred traced back to a common ancestor. Bv
this process, much may be done to settle vexed
questions, and improve our knowledge of Indian
history. Analysis reaches the person of the In-
dian, as well as his language. Although much
has been done to develop a knowledge of his
physical characteristics, yet it is believed much
remains for re-;earch. When this field is fully
explored, and the facts are collected, they will do
much to settle and define the relation which he
TOMAHAWKS OF VARIOUS SHAPES.
hears to the other races inhabiting the earth."
We may add that the society has also a fine
library, numbering some 20,000 volumes, and to
which they are constantly adding. The first
portrait on this page is that of Richard Mather,
who was an eminent scholar and divine of puri-
tanic date. He was a native of England, and
came to America in the year 1635, to escape
from persecution in his own country. He was
settled for a number of years in Dorchester,
Mass. This portrait is in a fine state of preser-
vation in the society's rooms. The second por-
trait is a copy of that now hanging in the Anti-
quarian Hall, and drawn by our artist, repre-
senting John Rogers, the world-renowned mar-
tyr, who was burned at the stake in 1555, being
the first who suffered martyrdom at the stake in
Smithfield ; but of this history, our readers are,
of course, familiar. The portrait is an original.
The following incidents, which we gather mainly
from "Barber's Historical Collections," relating
to the early history of the city of Worcester, is
])articularly interesting, as referring to the In-
dians, and their hostilities to the whites : " In
October, 1G68, a township of land of rather more
than eight miles square, bounded easterly by
Quinsigamond Pond, was granted by the gene-
ral court to Daniel Gookin, Daniel Henchman,
Thomas Prentice, and their associates. On ac-
count of the Indian war prevailing about this
jieriod, the immediate settlement of the place was
prevented. In 1685, the Indians appearing
friendly, the persons named above, together with
South Church, in 1719. According to the evi-
dence furnished by the proprietary records, there
were in Worcester, in 1718, fifty eight dwelling-
houses. ' Tradition says they were humble edi-
fices, principally of logs, one story higli with
ample stone chimneys. Some were furnished
with windows of diamond glass, where the re-
sources of the proprietor afforded the means for
procuring such luxury ; the light was admitted
in many through the dim transparency of oiled
paper,' During the first movements of the Re-
volution, Worcester was the central point whence
the animating influences in favor of American
freedom were diffused over the surrounding
country. In March, 177.^), the company of min-
ute men in this place were directed to train half
PoKrUAlT OF RICHARD MATHJbR.
bly a favorite residence for them, on account of
tlie fish and wild game in the vicinity. These
Indians were visited by Mr. Eliot, the ' Indian
apostle,* and Mr. Gookin, 1674 ; at this time they
had made considerable advances in civilization,
and some of them professed Christianity. In
1675, Pakachoag wns visited ty King Philip,
who, by his artifices and threats, induced most of
the Indians to take up arms against the whites.
After the return of the whites to Worcester, in
1685, the settlement of the place went on pros-
perously till 1701, when the Indians again began
to attack the frontier towns, and Worcester was
again depopulated. After all the other planters
had fled, Dickery Sargeant, with his family, de-
termined to remain and brave the dangers from
the Indian foe. He remained unmolested till
1703 or 1704. The following particulars of his
death are preserved. When the Indians sur-
rounded his house, Sargeant seized his gun to
defend himself; as he was retreating to the stair-
way, he was shot down by the savages. Upon
this they rushed into the house and completed
tiie work of death bj their tomahawks, and tore
off Iiis scalp. They seized his wife and five chil-
dren, and commenced a rapid retreat westward.
Mrs. Sargeant, overcome with grief and fatigue,
impeded their progress. As they wei-e ascend-
ing the Tataesset or Tatnick hills, a chief
sicpped out of the file, and, while pretending to
be looking for game, came up behind Mrs. Sar-
geant in an unsuspected moment, and deprived
his sinking captive of life at a single blow. The
children were carried into Canada, where they
remained a long time before they were restored
t> their friends. Two of the children, Daniel
and Mary, preferred remaining with their cap-
tors, and adopted the habits and manners of the
Indians. In 1709, Elisha Ward, who was sent
on an express from Marlborough to Hadley, hav-
ing stopped to examine his deserted farm, was
killed. Peace being concluded with the Indians,
Mr. Jonas Rice, with his family, on the 21st of
October, 1713, -moved into Worcester, and were
the only inhabitants of the town until the spring
of 1715. The first white male child born in
Worcester was Adonijah Rice, who was born
Nov. 7, 1714. His father built his house on
Sagatabscot Hill, and his farm included some of
the lands once cultivated by Sargeant. In 1715,
a considerable number of persons joined the set-
tlement; in 1718, their number was augmented
by emigrants from Ireland, principally of Scotch
descent. The first labor of the inhabitants was
to erect a garrison-house, on the west side of the
Leicester road, not far from the Old South
Church. Another log fortress was built near the
head of the street called Columbian Avenue ; a
third was on the Connecticut Road, north of
Lincoln Square. A regular block-house was
placed north of Adams Square, where a long
iron cannon was afterwards mounted to give
alarm of coming danger. During the French
war, this gun was removed to the green near the
meeting-house. On the commencement of the
Revolution, it was posted westward of the court-
house. On the news of the march of the British
to Lexington, its voice aroused the people to
arms. Meetings for religious worship were first
held at the house of Gershom Rice. A building
was soon erected for religious worship on Green
Street, north of the union of Franklin Street,
where the inhabitants met, until a spacious meet-
ing-house was reared on the site of the Old
MOCCASINS WORN BY TECLMSEH.
John Wing, George Danson, Peter Goulding,
Dickery Sargeant, Isaac Bull, and Jacob Leon-
ard, ventured to begin the plantation. It ap-
pears, however, that there were six or seven
houses erected here in 1675, but, on account of
King Philip's war, which then raged, they were
soon deserted. The natives who inhabited Quin-
sigamond were of the Nipmuc tribe. The prin-
cipal settlement of these Indians in Worcester
was on a hill in the south part of the town, ex-
tending into Ward, called by them Pahiclioag,
now known as Bogachoag. Wigwam Hill, on
the eastern shore of Quinsigamond, was proba-
PIPK USKD BY KOOKY MOUNTAIN INDIANS.
a day in each week. This company had met al-
most daily for months, and, under the instruction
of Capt. Bigelow,they attained great proficiency
in military science. Their services were soon to
be required for the defence of the country. Be-
fore noon on the 19th of April, an express came
to the town, shouting, as he passed through the
street at full speed, ' To arms, to arms, the war
is begun !' His white horse, bloody with spiu'-
rhig, and dripping with sweat, fell exhausted by
the church. Another was instantly procured,
and the tidings went on. The passage of the
messenger of war, mounted on his white steed,
and gathering the population to battle, made
vivid impression on memory. The tradition of
his appearance is preserved in many of the neigh-
boring villages. In the animated description of
the aged, it seems like the representation of death
on the pale horse careering through the land
COMB USED BY BOCKY MOUNTAIN INDIANS.
with his temfic summons to the grave. The
bell rang out the alarm, cannon were fired, and
messengers sent to every part of the town to col-
lect the soldiery. As the news spread, the im-
plements of husbandry were thrown by in the
field, and the citizens left their homes with no
longer delay than to seize their arms. In a short
time, the minute men were paraded on the green,
under Capt. Timothy Bigelow; after fervent
prayer by the Rev. Mr. Maecarty, they took up
the line of march. They were soon followed by
as many of the train bands as could be gathered,
under Capt. Benjamin Flagg. On that day, 110
marched from the town of Worcester for Con-
cord. Intelligence of the retreat of the enemy
met them after they advanced, and they turned
towards Boston. When Capt. Bigelow reached
the ancient Howe tavern, in Sudbury, he halted
to rest his men. Capt. Benjamin Flagg, who
had commenced his march an hour or two later.
PORTRAIT OF JOHN ROQERSj THE MARTYR; BURNT AT THE STAI-LE, 1555-
TOMAUAWK OF THE ORIGINAL SHAPE.
came up, and insisting on pushing forward with-
out loss of time, both officers moved on to Cam-
bridge." Being the focus from which radiates
numerous lines of railroads north, south, east
and west, Worcester is growing with a rapidity
almost magical, and gives token of mercantile
importance only second in this State to Boston
itself. Vast amounts of capital are embarked
here in various manufacturing interests, and the
population is steadily and swiftly increasing.
As it regards the views of the city, which we
present on these two pages, our artist has drawn
them on the spot, and they arc, therefore, truth-
ful and life-like; and our friends in Worcester
will readily bear testimony of tliis. Fi'om time
to time, we shall thus illus'tratc the various towns
and cities of New England, thus enriching our
paper and enhancing its value to our already
immense list of subscribers. Our artists are con-
stantly engaged on every matter of general in-
terest, and we shall continue to give them in the
utmost perfection as heretofore.
206
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for GIoa«on's I'lctorlal.]
THE TALL Ob- THE LEAF.
BY JOSIJL'B n. BUTLEB.
Yo autumn loaves, that full no fimt,
When Hweopa along the waUiiip; bliutt;
Yo tinted leavc'ri, that ttrow tlio leii,
Slid tboughta your fall liwitkes in mo.
0 cmblyiiifl of tlio life of man,
■\VhilHt lioro your fadud stiito I scan ;
T f L-titn to view the hopec ho gay,
Thut gild awhile Iila littlo day.
1 Bco tho loves, on angol wing,
That o'er his path anibrofin fling;
I view the friendships, false as fair,
That round him Hpread their pJesising snaro.
ThuH do the winds of fortune blow,
j\nd all his withered blossoms go ;
Uchold, his glorious hopes are dead,
See, friendship's glossy smiles are lied I
And love, that was his bosom's boast,
Droops— of its former self the ghost ;
Time, that blights the sweetest flower.
Steals tho rose from pleasure's bower.
All the hopes on life ^hat beam,
Fly as the shadows of a drejim ;
The dearest friendships youth can make,
Fate or accident may break.
Yet, weep not, man 1 thou child of sorrow,
Hope on ! behold a brighter morrow I
Unmoved, pursue life's stormy way,
Nor droop at pleasure's pale decay ;
Let blight arise — let t«mpestM rave —
There is a world beyond the grave I
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE SECRET SIGN.
A SKETCH OF THE SOUTHERN CAMPAIGNS.
BT Jims. M. E. ROBINSOS.
In a desolate, rugged valley, the American
army were encamped for the winter. The dis-
tance from Philadelphia might be about twenty
miles, in a north-westerly direction. The condi-
tion of tlie troops was lamentable in the extreme ;
and the only wonder is that they did not sink
under their accumulated misfortunes. The win-
ter was a most rigorous one ; they were without
shoes, blankets, or provisions ; their course could
be traced by the tracks of their bleeding feet,
cruelly cut by the ice, while their only shelter
from the cold and piercing blasts, were rude log-
huts, constructed to accommodate twelve men
each, within which, upon the damp ground, was
scattered straw for their beds.
It is indeed surprising that hope did not give
place to despair ; but the intense desire for lib-
erty, and an unshaken belief in the justness of
their cause, enabled them to cheerfully endure
hardship and privation.
During this time the British had possession of
Philadelphia, and were rioting to excess ; luxury
and revelling were the order of the day, and the
possessions of the brave men they were striving
to subdue, wantonly appropriated to their use,
while the rightful owners were struggling under
the pressure of unequalled suffering for the love
of country.
Paper currency was almost worthless, and but
little specie being in circulation, farmers were
disinclined to part with their produce, and those
indeed were fortunate who obtained a sufficient
supply for their daily wants.
Many of the whig families who remained in
the city were robbed by the British soldiery, who
left them but little or nothing to subsist upon.
The ladies, however, with ears ever open to the
calls of charity, carried food from their own ta-
bles to the American prisoners, and did all in
their power to relieve the wants of the destitute.
A few had friends without the city, who watched
every opportunity to send a basket of provisions
or a little money to their suffering relatives.
These acts of kindness were attended with con-
siderable risk, and numerous are the instances of
life and liberty being hazarded for the sake of
doing good.
A farmer by the name of Israel, who resided
in Wilmington, had a mother remaining in Phil-
adelphia. He feared her slender means were
exhausted, and resolved, in some manner, lo aid
her.
" I cannot divest my mind of the idea that my
mother needs assistance," he remarked, one
morning to his wife.
" It la probable she does," she replied. " We
have no reason lo suppose that she has escaped
the cowardly and brutal conduct of our common
enemies."
"I must visit her in person," added the farmer,
after a short pause. " My moiherniust not want
for food w!ien I am blessed with plenty."
** It will be a dangerous Journey," said Mrs.
Israel, anxiously.
" I am aware of that, but I can afford to risk
something, as well as others of my countrymen.
Think of tho sutfering at Valley Forge."
" I cannot discourage you, but I have many
fears for tlie result," replied the wife, as she re-
membered tho rumors tiiat each day brought to
her ears. *' You cannot pass in the daytime/'
she added.
" No, I must go in the night ; darkness is tlic
best security."
"But you have not the countersign," said
Mrs. Israel, quickly.
" I can obtain it fi-om one of our toiy ncigli-
bors."
"And we must not overlook the fact that by
that very circumstance, you will place yourself
in liis power," rejoined the wife.
" Women are always anticipating evil," con-
tinued the farmer, with a smile. " Williams
always lias the pass-word, and you know we are
as good friends as two men can well be, whose
sentiments differ so widely."
" He's a wolf in sheep's clothing !" exclaimed
Mrs. Israel, warmly. "A man that will descit
the standard of his country, and league with its
enemies, is not to be trusted."
" We must hope in One who sways the desti-
nies of nations, and eventually rights the wrong-
ed," was the earnest rejoinder of the brave farmer,
as he set about the needful preparations.
Mrs. Israel said no more ; she was a patriotic
woman, and though she felt some anxiety re-
specting the fate of her husband, she thought it
best not to dishearten liim by unnecessary fears.
As the farmer had anticipated, be found no diffi-
culty in procuring the countersign from the
neighbor mentioned, who granted the request
without the least seeming reluctance.
Israel reached the ferry without the occurrence
of anything worthy of note, and was allowed to
pass, by the sentinel, upon reiieating the pass-
word. He proceeded immediately to his moth-
er's residence. Upon entering, he was mnch
surprised to find a younger brother there, upon
the same business as himself ; the latter belonged
to the American army, and had been prompted
by filial affection to privately visit his mother,
who was now left alone, with the exception of a
black servant.
The unexpected meeting was a joyous and
opportune one ; for Israel soon discovered that
his mother was really suffering for want of food
and the customary comforts of life. While they
were earnestly conversing together respecting
the deplorable state of the country, the heavy
tramp of horses and loud voices were heard at
the door.
The two sons sprang up and unsheathed their
swords, while the terrified mother could barely
articulate :
" Save yourselves, my children ! it is the Hes-
sian officer, who, with his men, comes and goes
when he pleases. You can escape by the roof."
And seizing the one next her, which happened
to be the youngest son, she fairly forced him up
stairs and through an aperture in the roof.
Meanwhile the knocking and uproar did not
cease below, and Israel, followed by his mother,
considered it the safest course to open the door.
" Be calm, mother !" he whispered, as slie
wildly besought him to attempt an escape.
" Show no fear, and act as though nothing un-
usual had occurred."
Israel opened ihe door. In rushed the Hessian
officer and his men, the former of wliom instanlly
seized him, exclaiming ;
" We have cauglit the rebel !"
" You arc wrong," said the farmer, with much
self-possession. "I am all right, it must be my
brother whom you seek."
The officer looked at him intently, but did not
relax his grasp.
"Judge for yourself," added Israel, seeing his
incredulity, and the thought flashing across his
mind that he had been mistaken for his brother.
"Judge for yourself," he continued. "Do I
look much like a soldier V*
The Hessian sergcint looked at him still more
utLenlivcly, and after a moment's pause, said :
" You don't wear uniform, as I expected.'*
" Ko, and here is a suit belonging to my
brother, which he left. You see it is much too
small for me." And Israel put on the uniform,
with much coolness of manner, and quite con-
vinced the officer that he liad secured the wrong
man.
" I perceive you arc a loyaliKt/* Huid the lat-
ter, shaking Israel warmly by the hand, and
pressing him to take a seat at the taljle which
had been spread by the airectionalc motlicr. He
felt himself obliged to comply, and indicated
to the latter, by a .significant glance to do the
same. She obeyed, and forced herself to listen
quietly to the coarse and brutal remarks of the
unwelcome guest, who repeatedly bojusted of his
success in diiipntching "the cowardly rebels,"
and in forcing tho black to confess the fact of
his young master's presence at home.
After he had protracted his stay to what
seemed an interminable length of time, he re-
marked that lie was on duty, and quitted the
dwelling, much to tlic satisfaction of his Iiostess.
Israel congratulated himself on his fortunate
escape, and soon after took leave of his mother
and brother. He reached home safely, but an
hour afterward was arrested and made a prison-
er. The words of liis wife had i)roved prophetic ;
his tory neighbor had indeed given him the
counter-sign, but lie had also betrayed him.
Tlie royal frigate Roebuck was then lying in
the Delaware, directly opposite his farm, and
Israel and his wife's brother were instantly con-
veyed on board, to be tried as apies.
The farmer was one of the " Committee of
Safety," and this fact being known, his position
under the circumstances was a most dangerous
one Much severity and hardship were used
toward him ; his watch, a small sum of money,
and even Iiis clothes, were taken from liim; his
bed consisted of coils of ropes on sacks, with
not the slightest covering to protect him from
the cold night air.
Israel considered his case a hopeless one,
and quietly resigned himself to his expected fate.
His tory neiglibors gave evidence against him,
and repeated a remark which he remembered
having made, implying that lie "would sooner
drive his cattle as a present to General Washing-
ton, than to receive thousands of dollars for
them in British gold, to supply the royal ships
of war."
This speech was full of treason, and speedily
excited the ire of the British commander of the
ship. He ordered a file of soldiers to proceed
to the meadow, drive the cattle to the water's
edge, in full view of the prisoner, and slaughter
them without hesitation.
The farm was at the distance of a mile from
the river, but as the ground from the meadow
sloped gradually down to the water, there was
nothing to obstruct the view, and Mrs. Israel
who was watchful and anxious, saw every move-
ment. She observed the soldiers leave the ship,
go on shore, and proceed in the direction of the
meadow, where the cattle were quietly grazing.
Instantly divining their intention, she determined
to save the cattle, if she risked her life in the at-
tempt. Ordering a small boy to follow her, she
hurried to the spot, lowered the bars, and at-
tempted to drive them through the opening.
The soldiers shouted to her to desist, threaten-
ing to fire upon her if she did not. The un-
daunted woman heeded them not, and they put
the threat into execution. The shots did not
harm, save to make almost wild the already
affrighted brutes, :vlio bounded in every direc-
tion across the field, while Mrs. Israel, to the
hazard of life and limb, succeeded in driving
them into a yard adjoining the barn.
Not daring to venture farther among tlie farm-
houses, the disappointed assailants returned to
the ship, and related to the chagrined officer the
failure of their mission. This incident hap-
pened, it should be remembered, in sight of the
commander of the Roebuck and his two prison-
ers.
Israel was treated much more rigorously than
his companion ; daily was his situation liecoming
more critical, for the time was fast approaching
for his trial. He knew the character of his
judges well, and expected no mercy at their
hands.
One night as he was reclining upon his hard
bed, a friendly-looking' sailor approached him.
" I wish to ask you a question," he said, in a
low, but kind tone. " I am a friend, and wish
you well, so you need not fear to answer me
truthfully."
Israel signified his willingness to do so.
"Are you a free-mason," resumed the sailor.
" I am," replied Israel, much astonished at
the question.
"Then there is some hope for you," added
the sailor quickly. " To-morrow night tliere is
a lodge held on ship-board, the officers who be-
long will assemble, and in some way you may
be able to alter their opinions respecting you.
It is your last chance, for they will likely find
you guilty of being a spy."
The countenance of Israel brightened up; ho
expressed his gratitude to the sailor in the
warmest terms, and laid himself upon the coil
of rope with a lighter heart.
The next day he was brought up for trial in
due form; his tory neighbors were examined,
and their depositions told fc'arfully against him.
Contrary to the expectations of both, the prison-
ers were j)crmitted to speak for themselves. Is-
rael boldly but respectfully avowed the truth ;
candidly acknowledged his visit to the city, jet
denied going as a spy ; but on the contrary to
afford relief to a beloved and suffering mother.
His earnest and eloquent wonh had no observ-
able effect; the faces of his judges were stern
and inflexible. Soon after, the farmer watched
his opportunity, and made, to the commanding
officer, the sign of the secret order to which he
belonged.
The change in the deportment of the officer
was almost magical. The severity of his coun-
tenance relaxed, he manifested some confusion
of manner, and presently communicated with
his brother officers in a suppressed tone.
" Gentlemen," said the commander mildly,
" it seems that we have labored under some mis-
apprehension in regard to the character of this
person. Instead of coming among us as a spy,
it was to bring relief to a parent in need. I do
not think it advisable to proceed further with
the case."
In this opinion the others fully conenrred, and
Mr. Israel was acquitted. This was not all ; be
was treated with the greatest hospitality by the
British otBcers, loaded with gifts tor himself and
wife, and, as an additional mark of distinction,
was sent on shore in an elegant barge. For this
remarkable escape he was indebted to the s^ecret
sign of the masonic brotherhood.
A SNAKE STORY— BUT TRUE.
One of our most respectable citizens, residing
within the corporate limits of the city, has re-
lated to us that two years ago a small green
snake was discovered in his grape arbor by
some member of his family. It was not disturbed
or molested in any way. Little Snaky seemed
to understand and appreciate this exemption
from the curse pronounced against the serpent
tribe, and has ever since continued its habitation
in the arbor. During the time it has grown
quite a respectable length, and become perfectly
domesticated, and recognizes at once any mem-
ber of the family, allows itself to be caressed,
and in gathering grapes has not unfrequently to
be pushed out of the way. But lot a stranger ap-
proach it, and at once it manifests its displea-
sure, and will allow no familiarity. This is
every word true. — On inquiring the probable
cause of its attachment to the grape arbor and
its domestication — or rather civilization — the
idea was suggested that possibly the juice of tho
grape, and fine shade afforded by the vines, in-
fluenced the selection by his snakeship, and
that the former had no doubt brought the ameli-
orating and humanizing habits he had con-
tracted. Our worthy informant is, uncompro-
misingly down upon li^e " ardent," and thinks
its constant use as a drink is altogether brntal-
izing, bringing its votaries upon a level with the
crawling reptiles of the earth. On the other
baud, he is inclined to believe that the juice of
the grape — concocted as it is into various whole-
some and pleasant wines, has a tendency to ele-
vate, humanize, etherialize. He cited the tem-
perate habits of the people of wine-producing
countries, and their high appreciation of the
beauties of nature, and love of rural pursuits, as
proof of the fact. We may, therefore, deduce
from this argument, that such influences oper-
ating upon the snake in question, have brought
it to its present civilized state and kindly dispo-
sition.— Mobile Tribune.
AND MHAT NEXT?
A gentleman residing near the city overtook
a well-dressed young man, and invited him to a
seat in his carriage. " And what," said the
gentleman to the young stranger, "are your
plans for the future V " I am a clerk," replied
the young man, and my hope is to succeed and
get into business for myself." " And what
next V said the gentleman. " Wliy, I intend to
marry and set up an establishment of my own,"
said the youth. "And what next?" continued
the interrogator. " Wliy, to continue in busi-
ness and accumulate wealth." " And what
next? " It is the lot of all men to die, and I, of
course, cannot escape," replied the young man.
"And what next ?" once more asked the gentle-
man ; but the young man liad no answer to
make — he had no purposes that reached beyond
the present life. How many young men are in
precisely the same condition, careful of the life
that now is, but thoughtless of that to come ! —
Familf) IIcrakL
The gloomy outside, like a rnety chest.
Ooiit;tinB tho shining trciisuvo ofa aoul,
Resolved and bnive. — Drydeii.
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
267
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
STANZAS.
BY B. CURTIS8 HISS-E, O.
. N.
Maiden fair, I fain would ponder
On thy future destiny,
As tUe bark of life doth wander
Over time's tempestuous sea ;
But the task I find before me,
Is a task too great, I sec,
So I 'II pray the heavens o'er thpe,
May ever bright and cloudless be.
May the path of life thou 'rt treading,
Strewn with fresh hopes ever be ;
May it lead unto a wedding
With a husband worthy thee ;
May thy name be ever cherished,
As a bright and holy thing,
When thine earthly part has perished,
And thy spirit found its wing.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. YII.
THE SERAGLIO.
BY DR. JEROME V. C. SMITH,
AUTHOR OF A "PILGRIMAGE TO EGYPT."
A gentleman connected with the American
legation informed myself and those of his coun-
trymen who were in Constantinople, one morn-
ing, that if we had any curiosity to visit that
singular and altogether extraordinary palace of
the Ottoman rulers, which is called Serai Bour-
nou, that an opportunity was then presented.
A firman could be procured that would not only
permit us to go over the whole Seraglio, but also
the Mint, the Arsenal, the great Mosques of St.
Sophia, of Solyman the Magnificent, the Mau-
soleum of Mahmond II, and some other of the
first class religious edifices. Of course the pro-
position was instantly embraced. About forty
dollars was the sum paid. We were accom-
panied by Mr. Holmes, the secretary of legation,
and the Rev. Mr. Goodale, a missionary, — who
both understand the Turkish language, and who
were of the highest value to us, in examining
objects, and in translating notices, inscriptions,
etc., which presented in the course of our explor-
ations within the ancient walls of that most ex-
traordinary of all national establishments.
On approaching the city by water from the
Sea of Marmora, the Seraglio is the leading,
prominent object, on the European side of the
Bosphorus. A kind of triangular enclosure, em-
braced by a strong wall, large enough for a tol-
erable sized city, is studded with a vast variety
of edifices, irregularly aiTanged, covering an im-
mense extent of ground, which was the ancient
Byzantium. Here are courts, extensive gardens,
parades, and also unappropriated fields, of suffi-
cient dimensions to accommodate a multitude of
inhabitants.
Mahomet II was the originator of this imperial
seclusion. A first consideration was to have
every inch of it so that no vulgar eye could pos-
sibly profane the females by seeing them. All
the buildings are inelegant, but rather uncouth,
externally, having each and every window thor-
oughly grated, or rather protected, by fine lattice
work. Some of the edifices have wide project-
ing eaves, deep recesses, and such prodigious
departures from all the common details of archi-
tecture of other countries, that if there were
nothing else to be seen, the oddity of these ac-
cumulations, the suggestions, and mostly, the
creations of tlie ladies of the harem, it would be
an ample compensation for the fatigue and ex-
pense of a visit.
With their large incomes, from age to age,
without the possibility of appropriating it any
other way, the successive sultans have permitted
them to rear these structures. One usually
connects with another, and consequently, the
old and the new, the creations of past centuries,
with modem times, give additional interest to
the whole group. We travel from the old to the
comparatively new, and thus learn something of
the whims, caprices and taste of their beautiful
projectors.
A more hopeless task could not be undertaken,
than an attempt to describe the inside appear-
ances of the various apartments, in the different
buildings we inspected, and shall not, therefore,
presume upon the reader's patience beyond a
few general observations.
Some of the rooms were superb both in respect
to prospect and finish. Gilded corniccF, high
studded walls, and magnificent workmanship in
marble, in the bath rooms, especially, were the
striking points. Neither pictures nor statuary
of any kind were any where seen, except in a
long corridor, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet
in length, through lYhich the secluded inmates
passed from one superb suite of apartments to
another, and tliere we saw a row of engravings,
colored, in simple gilded frames. On the left
hand was a plastered wall, without a break of
door or window, the whole way, and on that
surface they were suspended. On the right,
there were a succession of lai-ge windows, latticed,
looking into a garden.
The pictures were representations of Napo-
leon's battles, with one or two views of wrecked
vessels. In one small room, among tlie dozens
that we examined, about fifteen feet square, the
walls were either colored or papered, I forget
which, almost black. There were three common
parlor chairs in it, but no other furniture. These
were the only things for silting on, according to
civilized rules, in the series.
In another apartment, looking out upon the
Bosphorus, a heavenly position on earth, so far
as surrounding scenery contributes to give any
spot the beauty of paradise, besides the large
latticed windows, richly draped, there was an
immense mahogany bedstead. It was a great
box, ten feet square, the sides near three feet
high, with high posts, sustaining a heavy tester
overhead. It would conveniently accommodate
six persons, without being crowded. A low
bench ran round the walls, near the floor, in very
many of the rooms, on which were cushions,
similar to those in pews. Bedding was not seen
anywhere.
Baths abounded : they were marble depres-
sions in the floor — or rather shallow tanks, put
below the common floor level, some ten feet one
way, by six perhaps in diameter. Scroll work
in marble, bold curves and richly chiselled vines,
were the principal ornamental appendages of the
female residences.
There were a multitude of small apartments
connected with the spacious ones, and doors
leading from a second corridor to suites of rooms
that we did not enter. Each and all the ladies
of position have their own places for themselves,
servants and children. Various apartments were
for common use, admitting of freedom of range
quite necessary for health, in a community of
females, exclusively, who rarely expose them-
selves to the influences of the open air, except
when closely veiled, and in the gardens, in which
the atmosphere is not much superior to the air
of the house, on account of the high walls by
which they are hemmed in.
Then there were the dining rooms, drawing
and frolicking rooms — for such were the names
we gave them, besides accommodations for an
army of female slave attendants, the various
grades of black and white eunuchs, with a num-
berless retinue of gardeners, grooms, soldiers,
civil officers, etc., who are attached to the Se-
raglio in various capacities, — who never set foot
beyond the theatres of their appropriate duties.
Having been repeatedly asked where the ladies
of the harem were all the while, it is hardly
necessary to say, that had they been in the Se-
raglio, no visitors could have had admission. A
new palace on the Bosphorus, above the city, to-
wards the Black Sea, occupied considerably by
the father of Medjid, was in the occupancy of his
family while we were in Constantinople.
The deeds of blood and cruelty which have
been transacted in the old Seraglio, have created
a repugnance in the mind of the Sultan, and he
may be said to have abandoned it. Still, eu-
nuchs are there, and in secluded parts of the
establishment, are supposed to be kadines of his
late terrible father.
In one direction in the yard, were a cluster of
kitchens — each recognized by its little dome.
Every lady has her own cooks, food, and culina-
ry apparatus. Several white eunuchs, small,
pale, cringing, obsequious males, without beards,
were leaning against pillars, walking across en-
closures, and going from or entering doors. Of
coui-se, they would be the only safe persons to
admit into the apartment of the females, wlicthcr
ladies, servants or prisoners. I could not dis-
cover to what race they belong; but my opinion
is this, that they were Greeks.
Mr. Goodale said that on a former occasion,
he was permitted to pass through a suite of apart-
ments closed to us. He remembered of having
seen on the doors, labels, in Arabic, designating
them as the first, second, third, fourth, etc. ladies'
quarters. It was evidence of their occupancy,
from being thus tabooed.
On entering the gardens — those plats espe-
cially considered select — the promenades of the
kadines, they disappointed me. There was a
perfect stiffness and perpendicularity excessively
tedious. Hundreds of orange trees, in tubs, as
they are seen in the orange gardens of Paris,
make up a large part of the show. A row of
demi-green houses are for their protection in the
winter. Kaised beds, formal and hard, covered
with flowers make up the remainder. It was
like being in a deep pit, in one of these gardens
— long and narrow, the sun only exerting a full
influence, at least when we were in it, by being
du'cctly overhead.
Mahomed II, by wliosc determination this
house for himself and successors was projected,
was proclaimed Padishain 1451. He took Con-
stantinople May 29th, 1481. He was sirnamed
Fatih — tlie opener, because he opened a way
into the Christian city of the Greeks, and ci-ushed
their empire.
No one of the Turkish dynasty has evinced a
more heroic spirit, or entertained clearer percep-
tions of absolute power. Bold, enterprising and
regardless of the flow of blood in the accomplish-
ment of lofty designs, he entertained such well
grounded confidence in the preparation the
prophet had made for all true believers, ihat he
calmly prepared his own epitaph, and a cata-
logue of the countries he had overcome, to be
inscribed on his own tomb.
A prominent sight within the great mural en-
closure, is the pillar created by Flavins Theo-
dosius I, a Greek emperor, who died of the
dropsy in 395. I do not understand writers who
say that it was thrown do^vn by an earthquake,
when it is certainly standing, or guides and his-
torians have appropriated his name to some other
monument.
There were several enormously large sarco-
phagi in a yard, of puii^hyry — large enough for
comfortable bedrooms. Tliey are of a remote
antiquity, and show, beyond all contradiction, to
what extraordinary perfection the ancients car-
ried the art of working in stone. As they had
neither iron nor steel, but cut those sarcophagi
with copper tools — a material almost as difficult
to chip as flint, they could not be equalled in our
day, without costing more than any potentate
would be willing to pay.
LIBRARY OF THE SERAGLIO.
It Strikes a stranger as an absurdity, that books
should be accumulated for those who never read.
But several grand seignors have had an ambition
to be learned, rather in the possession of the
written wisdom of those distinguished for their
political and liistorical attainments, than to actu-
ally profit by the lessons of i\Titten wisdom.
Here is a one-story building, quite by itself in
an open space, ascended by steps — having a large
window each side the door, erected by order of
Mustapha III, in 1767, in the Bostangelar, or
garden. I find it described as having beauties,
marble columns and other affixes that were not
discovered by me. Unfortunately, the key
keeper could not be found, and we therefore
were obliged to get the limited knowledge
within our grasp, in regard to the books, by peeps
through the windows. On three sides of a large
square room ttiere were shelves, perhaps one
foot apart — commencing some four feet from the
floor, and reaching the ceiling. Not any of them
were full, and some had but a vei-y few books
upon them at all.
Instead of standing on their ends, the volumes
were packed on their sides — one above anotlicr.
They were generally quite thin, with a string or
bit of ribbon hanging perpendicularly from be-
tween the leaves, and were of all sizes. They
were represented 1o be mostly Korans, executed
by a pen, on parchment, paper, etc., at difl'erent
epochs, and variously ornamented and gilded.
Sentences from the Eoran were inscribed on the
walls, as they are on various buildings, door-
ways, gates, and other marked places within the
choice enclosure of the Seraglio. On the other
hand, guide-books assert that this library pos-
sesses costly works on all subjects — and among
others, a splendid edition of Autar, on metallic
paper. I cannot credit the declaration of Mr.
White, that the collection contains 4440 volumes,
upon any other principle than this, viz., that
every little thin mass of leaves, a hundred of
which would not have the thickness of a common
duodecimo of four hundred pages, was counted
as an individual volume.
While we were reconnoitering some of the
splendid series of rooms, especially for the Sul-
tan's use, communicating with each otlier by
passage ways with those of the select ladies, a
small case of books was shown that contained a
choice collection of favorite works, chiefly
amatory poetical effusions, which the grand
seignor had brought to him whenever he felt
inclined to have reading. It was a mahogany
box, two feet high, two wide, and about eiglit
inches thick, with two shelves inside, on which
were reposing twenty-five or thirty extremely
thin, but richly bound volumes. Their titles
were on strips of pendulous ribbons — some of
which the Rev. Mr. Goodale read. They were
protected in front by a wire gauze covering.
In several of the mosques, and at the residen-
ces of the great officers, and the chief expounders
of the Koran, there are collections of books,
chiefly Persian and Arabic authors. The Turks
appear to have had but a very few native writers.
These libraries had their origin in a desire to
copy the custom of the Kaliphs of Bagdad and
Damascus, as an appendage of distinction, ratlier
than from an inherent love of literature, for which
the Turks, as a people, have no cultivated taste.
There are individuals who read, and some his-
torians have lived, but their thoughts and their
narrations, locked up in a harsh language, in the
Arabic character, cannot readily be disseminated,
especially when not printed with type.
Some of the females of the imperial harem
have discovered a decidedly poetical talent, but
the most that is known of them, comes obscurely
and indistinctly, through the language of adula-
tion, from some dependent on the Sultan, who
exalts to the skies, on account of the position of
the poetess, what might not be considered above
mediocrity in a child of a less exalted station.
There are writers and commentators on the
laws, at Constantinople, but few if any on any
other branch of what may be called literature or
useful information.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SHADES OF EVEN.
BY D. HARDY, JE.
Shades of even ! gently falling,
Welcome is the rest ye bring ;
Birds now seek the forest shadows,
Where they rest with folded wing ;
Sound and echo now are dying,
Silence reigns on all around ;
Stars gleam up amid the stitine^,
In the azure vault profound.
Shades of even I ye are welcomed,
By the noble men of toil ;
For in sleep are they a season,
I'ree from busy life's turmoil.
Twilight hour, so pure and holy,
Brings a train of happy thought;
And our silent, sweet communion,
"With the beautiful is fraught.
Even's shades, descending gently,
Hare a sad and holy power ;
Memories of the days of olden
Come at this most hallowed hour.
Eve- tide music, gently floating,
Oft I've heard, but vainly tried
To give back the sounding cadence,
Ere the holy echoes died.
« ^a^i »
THE FIKST I'RI^TEI) BOOK.
It is a remarkable and most interesting fact
that the very first use to which the discovery of
printing was applied was the production of the
Bible. This was accomplished at Mcntz, be-
tween the years 1450 and 1-155. Gottenburg
was the inventor of the art, and Faust, a gold-
smith, furnished the necessary funds. Had it
been a single page, or an entire slieet wliich was
then produced, there might have been less oc-
casion to have noticed it ; but there was some-
thing in the whole character of the affair, which,
if not unprecedented, rendered it singular in the
usual current of human events. The Bible was
in two folio volumes, which have been justly
praised for the strength and beauty of the paper,
the exactness of the register, and the lustre of
the ink. The vork contained twelve hundred
and eighty-two pages, and being the first ever
printed, of course involved a long period of
time, and an immense amount of mental and
mechanical labor ; and yet for a long time after
it had been finished and offered for sale, not a
human being, save the artists themselves,
knew how it had been accomplished. Of the
first printed Bible eighteen copies are known to
be in existence, four of which are printed on vel-
lum. Two of these are in England, one being
in the Grenville collection, one is in tlie Royal
Library of Berlin, and one in the l^oyal Library
of Paris. Of the fourteen remaining copies ten
are in England — there being a copy in the Li-
braries of Oxford. Edinburgh, and London, and
several in the collections of different noblemen.
Tlie vellum copy has been sold as high at .£1300.
James Lenox, Esq., of New- York city, has a
copy in his library, which was purchased by Mr.
Davidson, (Agent for Messrs. Wiley and Put-
nam,) at auction, in London, in IS48, for ihe
sum of .£500 stcrhng, equal to $2,200 indepen-
dent of freight or duties. The custom lunisc
officers passed it free of duty, in consideralion of
its being a curiosity. It is tiie only copy upon
this side of the Atlantic. — N. Y. Miiror.
268
GLEASON'S riCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
NEW LII'K ItOAT.
"Wo eivo liciow un iiccuniLc rc|iresc',ntation
of a now life hoat lately cunstriicted and per-
fected liy a Mr. Loo, of Manehostor, Enn;-
land. It will be scon by tho pirturo that
sho is rif^^'ud and manned for eli/htcm oars,
besides a jiii and two liifj;{;cr sails. Sho is
composed of two tiilies of cylinder iron,
supporting each other on the arch principle.
Sho can neither sink, upset, swamp, nor bo
waterlo^jjcd. Wcij^ht of tho boat, with
^ear, 54 cwt. 3 qrs.; weight, without gear,
48 ewt., I (|r., as ascertained by actual
weif;hingin Woolwich Dockyard. Wclind
the following account relating to this very
remarkable structure in a Loudon paper :
At Liverpool, having been tested in gales,
by steam, and every other means of proving
her strength and stability, she issued her
challenges to the life boats of Great Britain.
But none would accept, or go tin'ongh the
whole trials, except tlic Northumberland
Prize Life Boat, which prolfcred to meet the
tubular, if it would sail round to Ranisgate.
The Tubular Life Boat immediately started,
and on her voyage touched at Menai-bridge,
Caernarvon, Portdyllacm, andAbcrsock: at
Barmouth the boat was tried on the bar on
a heavy surf, and pronounced by certificate
to be the most perfect life boat the harbor
master and pilots had ever seen. She then
sailed to Aberdovcy, Cardigan, Fishguard,
Dale, and Milford Haven, the Mumldes, II-
fracombc, Pads tow, St. Ives, Penzance,
Falmouth, Plymouth. Here she wa^ tested
by the Port Admiral Sir John Ommaney,
and taken alongside the Leander frigate, in
the Sound, where ciglity-two men were
placed on her side, for the purpose of upset-
ting her, but were unable to effect it. From
Plymouth she sailed to Cawsand Bay, Sal-
combe, Tynemouth, Lyme Regis, Cowes,
Southampton, Portsmouth. Here she was
again inspected and tested by the Port Ad-
miral, Sir Thomas Briggs, to his entire sat-
isfaction. She then sailed to Shorehara,
Newhaven, Rye and Ramsgatc. On her
arrival the following further notice and chal-
lenge was issued : — " The Tubular Life
Boat's challenge not having been accepted
at Liverpool, and the Northumberland Prize
Life Boat having stated her readiness to
meet her, provided the former would come
round lo Riimsgate, the Tubular Life Boat
has sailed, and arrived at Ramsgate. And,
in addition to the first challenge, she will
carry one pcr^-on to every foot in length, and
beach on a lee shore; and sixty persons shall
at one and the same time jump and rush on
board as if alongside the wreck of an emigrant
ship." But it was found that the Northumber-
land Prize Life Boat had been sold to the Rams-
gale Harbor Truitees, who refused to let the
boat undergo all the trials proposed unless she
was guaranteed by theliuilders in case of loss or
damage. Tliiy the builders declined. The Tu-
bular Life Boat then sailed for Woolwich, touch-
ing at Margate and Gravesend. In her voyage
round, the Challenger experienced much rough
weather: strong gales and white squalls off the
Welsh coast; wild races through Ramsey and
Jack Sound ; a heavy gale on the night of the
2.5th of June, off Tintagel Head, Cornwall;
thick blowing weather round the Land's End
and in the English Channel. The crew consist-
ed of the proprietors, with Mr. Thomas Evans,
master of the Liverpool Magazine Lilc Boat, as
UUJNJNA CUliKiWJNE ALMANZA.
[see Frederick Hunter's biovy ]
sailing-master, and five sailors. We trust that
our Atlantic seaboard may soon be supplied with
this invaluable life-saver. If the invention de-
serves one half the encomiums of praise lavished
upon it by the English press, it is far superior to
all boats of this character yOt improved in this
part of ihe world. That we have most perfect
and elaborate life boats, we arc well aware ; but
the one of which we give a representation here-
with, is certainly a most remarkable and success-
ful invention, and worthy of attention by all in-
terested in such matters. We are gratified to
sec inventive genius directed in this channel, and
for the purpose of the preservation of life : now
and then we are called upon to chronicle the im-
provements in fire-arms, to detail how they arc
rendered tenfold more destructive thim heretofore,
but this accords poorly with our own feelings —
humanity, not brutalism, is the predominating
and most natural trait of the human heart.
A BURMESE SOLDIER.
Wc present below a rough sketch of one of
the Burmese soldiers, as they commonly walk
about the town. Many of them have endeavored
to imitate the British soldier's costume in part,
and wear a short red jacket made of cotton
or cloth, and on their heads have a sort of a con-
ical pot made of tin, with a wide rim of the same
material, to resist sabre cuts. Others again wear
painted tin helmets of the shape that used for-
merly to decorate the heads of warriors. A
large portion carry muskets instead of spears*
bat all have the dha or sword represented id the
sketch. It is said that they are bad soldiers in
the open field, but beliind stockades they exhibit
much courage. They are a strong, able-bodied
and muscular race of people, and afford a strik-
ing contrast to the puny Bengalees. The bodies
of the men are tattooed from about four inches
above the hips to a little below the knees. Some
of tho designs are very curious, and repre-
sent dragons and tigers in uncouth positions,
snakes, etc., but all executed with much
skill anil with regard to minuteness. The
man from whom the accompanying sketch
is made has an irregular scroll-work pattern
on )iis legs, interspersed with grotesque ani-
mals, and about his waist the onniment fin-
ishes with a design looking somelhing like
the tops of the pagoda-t of his country.
They arc domestic in their habits, and ex-
hibit the strongest alfection for their off-
spring. A Burman never considers the
number of his progeny too large, as the
means of provision for them arc always
within his reach, and it is considered honor-
able to have his " quiver full." Altogeiber
they appear to he a happy, contented people,
full of fun, always ready to laugh at a joke,
practical or otherwise, and exhibiting much
good temper in all their amusements. Of
these, cock-fighting is one of the principal,
and it is one in whicli they show much
skill in training their pugnacious favorites.
Matches are made on the open roads, and
when from the length of the "round," the
birds are exhausted, the owners take them
up and carefully shampoo their proteges,
and revive them by moistening their beaks
and rubbing the muscles of their thighs.
Much money changes hands on these occa-
sions. The dress of the women consists of
a piece of silk or cotton cloth, drawn across
the bust, under the arms, leaving the shoul-
ders bare. This reaches to the waist, whence
another piece of silk, called the "ta-mien,"
falh to the knees. The narrowness of this
petticoat, which is only wide enough to be
tncked in at the waist, causes the leg to be
exposed above the knee at every step.
Among the higher classes, an en-gyee or
jacket of fine muslin or silk gauze is worn
in addition to the above dress. The nar-
rowness of the lower garment prevents the
woman from walking in a free and unre-
strained manner, and she shulfles along in a
shambling style that is anything but elegant.
Their long glos.sy black hair is drawn back
from the face and tied behind with great
care. Upon this portion of their toilet they
bestow much pains, and they exhibit con-
siderable taste in arranging roses and other
flowers in their jetty tresses. Both se.xcs
have ho^es in their cars through which they
pass cylindrical pieces of wood, bone, glass,
or gold ; and the size of some of these orna-
ments is marvellous. When the incision is
first made in a boy's or girl's ear — an occasion
of much rejoicing and fest^'ity — a small roll of
thin fine gold or bamboo is inserted ia the ori-
fice. This is removed after a time for a larger
piece, which again gives place to another of in-
creased size, until it reaches about an inch in di-
ameter, and the lobe of the ear becomes a mere
thin ficshy circle, encompassing the ornament.
When, as is frequently the case, this is a roll of
pure gold, measuring about an inch and a quar-
ter in height, and about three quarters of an inch
in diameter, the ear is dragged down to a length
that, to a foreigner, appears very ugly, but by a
a Burman is considered fashionably elegant.
These holes are sometimes useful, and serve the
purpose of cheroot cases. It is not uncommon
to see a girl walking along the road with her
cheroot poking through her ear. This she re-
moves on meeting some friends, and with them
squats on the ground and enjoys her tobacco.
SPECIMEN Ol-' A InLVV teTVLL Ui' LIFE BOAT.
KEPHE&ENTATIUN UF A BUKWliSE SULmER.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DHAWING ROOM COMPANION.
269
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATTJRIN M. BALLOTJ, Editor,
COKTKATS OF OUR NEXT NU3IBER.
<' The Poor Cousin," an admirable story, by Mrs. Caro-
use Or>'e.
" The Green Chamber, or the Midnight Tisitor," a fine
storv. by Fkancis A. Durivage.
^■The Mameluke, or the ^igu of the Myotic Tie," a tale
of the camp and court of Bonaparte, by B. Pebley Poore.
We f-hall coQimence, in our next number, a superb histo-
rical romance, thus entitled.
''Turkey and the Turka," No. Ttll, relating to the
Throue of Turkey, by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Autographs and Autography j" So. IX, by William
Edward Kkowles, giving the signatures of James K.
Polk, Lewis Cats, John Tyler, Charles Dickens, T. S. Ar-
thur, Dr. J. H. Kobiuson, James T. Fields, and A. J. H.
Duganne.
" Travels in Palestine," No. X, describing the Dead Sea,
by Kev. F. W. Holland.
" The Hours of Childhood," verses, by E. CurtiS3 Hike,
U. S. N.
" Truth and Friendship," lines, by Caroune A. Hat-
den.
" The Oak of the Forest," verses, by Joseph H. Butler.
"Farewell," a poem, by Mrs. H. Marion Stephens.
" The Sailor's Bride," lines, by Phila Earle.
" The Exile Sisters," a poem, by Mrs. R. T. Eldredge.
'■Musint^s," verses, by Edward M. Bisbee.
" The Gem of the Tropics," verses, by M. M. Ballod.
" liemembered Ones," lines, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" The Autumn free," a poem, by Owen G. kVARREN.
ILLUSTEATIONS.
We shall give a very elaborate and perfect general view
of the New Hampshire State Fair, which lately took place
at Meredith Bridge, N. H. Drawn by our artist, Mr. ALin-
ning.
A fine series of CaUfomia scenes, characteristic of the
gold region.
FirBt, a Bridge across the American River, at Leslie's
Ferry, California.
Second, a view representing a Miner in a prospecting
train, in search of gold.
Third, a very accurate view of Sacremento Cemetery,
where rest the ashes of many a sanguine gold seeker.
Fourth, a very excellent and interesting picture of a
Native Indian Chief, as they now appear.
Fifth, a characteristic view of a California Pampero, in
the gold region.
Sixth, an interesting picture of a Cahfomia Senorita, as
drawu upou the spot.
Seventh, an expressive and accurate view, giving a pic-
ture of an Indian Squaw and Children.
A picture of Chinamen en route for the mines inland, to
dig gold.
Al.'O an interesting series of New York State views, made
by our artist, Mr. H. W. Parker.
First, an admirable picture of the State Prison and Rail-
road Buildings, at Auburn, N. Y.
Second, a fine view of Fort Hill Cemetery, situated at
Auburn, N. Y.
Third, a beautiful picture of Olenhaven Water Cure Es-
tablisDment, on Skeueateles Lake, N. Y.
Fourth, an admirable drawing and picture of the famous
Owasco Lake, N. Y., forming a very tine series.
i large and very artistic picture, representing the late
Duke of Wellington on horseback.
An eastern picture, finely illustrating Dr. Jerome T. C.
Smith's interesting aeries of articles, by an engraving of a
Muezzin calling to Prajers, alter the style of the east, by
our artist, Mr. Maniuug.
A local picture, representing a body of Swedish Emi-
grants, as they lately appeared passing our office. My our
artist, Mr. tiowse.
" The Queen of the Sea : or. Our Lady of
the Ocean." By Ned Buntline. — The constant
demand for this interesting nautical tale has in-
duced us to issue a new edition of the same — it
liaving been long out of print. It is now for
sale at all of the periodical depots throughout
the United States, and at the office of publication.
SPLINTERS.
Mad. Sontag i.s creating a musical furore
only second to Jenny Lind's.
.... Monsieur Petin made a successful balloon
ascension from Bridgeport, Ct., on the 7 th inst.
.... Little Camille Urso " draws a long bow/'
considering her extreme youth.
The Spanish authorities are entangling
Cuba in a most fatal situation.
.... Punch notices, as properly named, the
7v7//-bury and il/a?-ms-worth railway.
Lessing's gorgeous painting, " The Mar-
tyrdom of Huss," is exhibiting at the Athenaium.
.... A keg of silver, containing SlOOO, was
lately dug up near Norfolk, Va., dating 1827.
There are said to be a vast number of
Americans in Italy this season.
.... The U. S. treasury and mint are said to
contain some S20,000,000 in coin.
.... Boys playing truant from school are
punished by the Boston city authorities.
The yellow fever has been terribly fatal
the past season in the West Indies.
Mr. Goodall, at the Howard, bids fair to
be a great favorite with our theatre-goers.
POLITICAL M'ARFARE.
It is much to be regretted that political discus-
sions and struggles for political a.scendency can-
not be conducted with amenity and dignity. It
is a deplorable thing that men cannot confine
their arguments to principles without descending
to personalities. What a spectacle is that pre-
sented by a great people, divided in opinion, and
through their oral and published organs, reviling
and railing at each other, vicing in the use of
opprobrious epithets, and hurling every sarcasm,
in which the vocabulary of Billingsgate abounds,
at the heads of antagonistic candidates ! The
far outsider, perched upon some transatlantic
eminence, and surveying the deadly strife, with-
out any intimate knowledge of the electioneering
practices and customs of the Yankees, must in-
fallibly come to the conclusion that the Ameri-
cans always select for incumbents to fill the
highest office in their gift, the most worthless
fellows to be found, that the government is al-
ways corrupt and badly administered, and that
the country is going to ruin with railroad speed.
Our neighbors across the ocean are thus led to
wonder how, with such infamous leaders, such
villanous corruption and neglect in all the de-
partments of government, the nation, as such,
can exist at all. And he finds it hard to recon-
cile its seeming prosperity with the assertions of
its o\vn citizens. A nearer and closer investiga-
tion solves the mystery. — It is plainly evident
that personal abuse and fierce philippic have
come to be the objurgatory weapons of political
contest. Vainly do rival candidates for the pre-
sidency endorse each others' characters, and pro-
fess mutual respect and regard, it is only a pretty
dumb-show, mere by-play, and precedes a battle
royal between their partizans. How volubly the
lie is given and returned ! what fierce charges
I'ing from the rostrum, and reverberate around
the stump ! How active are the partizan editors !
What seas of ink are shed ! What ingenious
fabrications are resorted to !
0 consistency! fair daughter of wisdom, where
art thou departed ? This crying evil grows
worse and worse, instead of abating; as the ha-
bitual dram-drinker, or opium-eater, feels com-
pelled by his craving to increase his dose of the
stimulus daily as he becomes more and more
accustomed to it; so do political partizans, as
their moral epidermis becomes toughened by con-
tinual drubbing, require more furious attacks
and sharper methods of annoyance. Truly this
is a most unfortunate, most unhappy, and need-
less state of affairs.
We esteem ourselves very fortunate that, in
the midst of the noise, confusion and commotion
of contending parties, we enjoy the peaceful po-
sition of neutrality; seeking rather to amuse,
divert and instruct the minds of our readers,
than to inflame and exasperate them. For our-
selves, we have a full faith in the fortunes of our
country, and the brilliancy and permanency of
her institutions.
THE MAMELUKE:
— OR —
THE SIGN OF THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Tale of the Camp and CouH of Bonapcuie.
BT B. PERLET rOORE.
We shall commence in our next number a
superb historical romance, thus entitled, by the
above able and well-known writer and traveller,
who has succeeded in weaving together liistory
and romance, so as to form one of the most
spirited and delightful stories we have ever pub-
lished. Major Poore writes of the spots which
he has visited in person, and Egypt and the Holy
Land are described as he himself has seen them.
National Theatre. — This establishment
will open on Monday next, when the Boston
public will be ottered something in the way of
theatricals, richly worth their attention and
patronage.
Louis Napoleon. — We are not naturally
vindictive — but if this scape-grace had chanced to
have been killed by that machine — well, we
should not have wept, that's all.
Rather inglorious. — To think that the
Duke of Wellington should have died of eating
too much venison steak !
W. F, Johnson.— We are pleased to learn
that this old favorite of the Boston theatre-goers
will be with us this winter.
INDIA.
It will be remembered that we last week gave
our readers a fine view of Prome, and the river
Irawaddy, since when the last English news
brings us an additional item of interest, by the
overland mail from India, by which we learn that
the chief event of importance that had occurred
at the seat of war in Burmah, since the depar-
ture of the previous mail, was the capture of the
town of Prome, by a fleet of light steamers, un-
der the command of Capt. Tarlton. The river
Irawaddy, below Prome, divides into two branch-
es, the left channel being defended by two strong
fortresses, and the right unnavigable, except
during the rainy season. Capt. Tarlton having
been warned by some friendly natives that the
left channel was defended, and being also favor-
ed by the flood, ascended the right branch of the
river, and entered the town without resistance,
carrying oil" twenty-eight guns. Having no
orders to advance, he returned to Kaugorm, al-
though there was reason to believe that the fleet
could have made its way to Ava, the capital.
Under these circumstances, the Fabian policy of
the general in command has given rise to con-
siderable discontent. A postscript to the above
intelligence states that an immediate advance on
and occupation of Prome is expected, and rein-
forcements will at once be sent from Madras and
Bengal. We mention these facts as being of
addiiional interest to the readers of the Pictorial,
who are thus timely informed of striking Eu-
ropean events, and also have depicted before
them the interesting localities themselves.
SUGGESTIVE.
Walking by the southern entrance to the Com-
mon, the other day, with a friend, we found one
of the large iron gates unshipped from its sup-
porters, having apparently been just repaired in
some injured bars.
" Remarkable coincidence," said Muggles. —
(Maggies is a great friend of ours.)
" What is a remarkable coincidence V* we
asked, innocently, looking around.
" The resemblance that gate bears to a con-
demned criminal," he replied, looking solemnly
at the piece of iron-work.
" What do you mean, Muggles 1 Are you
dreaming- awake, eh V*
"Don't you see the resemblance between that
gate and a condemned criminal^'*
" No."
" Why, it's going to be hung I can't you see
the hook and staples'?"
We turned down Winter Street, and left Mug-
gles to reconcile the suggestive scene with his
own conscience.
MUSICAL.
It is long since we enjoyed such a musical
treat as was afforded us by attendance upon
Mdlle. Caroline Lehmanns debut at the Melodeon,
a few evenings since. Coming among us almost
entirely unheralded, this beautiful woman, and
really brilliant vocalist, delighted and astonished
her audience, who evinced their appreciation by
long and reiterated plaudits. The house was
quite full, and among the company we noticed
a large number of amateur and professional
musicians.
Miss IviMEERLY. — This lady has certainly
improved vastly in her profession since her for-'
mcr appearance in Boston. Her conception of
character is marked by originality, and her
reading is faultless.
The Mountain Eagle (Oregon), chronicles the fact that
a lunip of nearly pure gold, weighing twenty-five pounds,
had been found. — PliUaielpkia fSaliirday Post.
It is "orful" hard to believe some of these
gold stories, isn't if?
Mild for the Season. — We hear of many
trees in this vicinity that are in blossom for the
second time, so mild has been our Fall.
South Boston Gazette. — This excellent
local paper has lately entered on a new volume,
and evinces unmistakeable tokens of enterprise.
Personal. — Hon. Abbott Lawrence, late min-
ister to England, is expected to eat a dinner in
public with his friends, in honor of his return.
Military. — The Boston Ai'tillery had a splen-
did time in New York.
In this city, by Kev. Mr. Pond, Mr. Eleazer Eoynton,
Jr., to Miss Mary E. P. Chadboume.
By Hev. Mr. Kirk, Mr. Luther Shaw, of Providence, R,
I., to Miss Lucrutia Chapin.
By Hev. Dr. Neale, Mr. Archibald Cameron to Mias Mary
J. Robinson.
By Rev. Mr, Richards, Mr. John S. Sanderson to Miss
Charlotte H. Little.
By ReT. Mr. Streeter, Mr. WiUiam B. Coan to Miss Ada
L. Hoyt.
At Ro.xbury, by Rev. Mr. Anderson, Mr. John J. Mann,
of Brooklyn,"N. Y., to Miss Sarah E. Dove.
At Chelsea, by Rev. Mr. Thayer, Mr. Abner I. Benyon
to Miss Huth Ann Town.
At Reading, by Rev. Dr Barrett, of Boston, Mr. Joseph
D. Cobum, of Boston, to Mis.s Maria E. Baker.
At Lowell, by Kev Mr. Cox, Mr. Char'es Thompson to
Miss Lucy Brighaai.
Atllingham, by Rev. Mr. Richardson, Dr. Robert W.
Olipbant, of St. Louis, Mo., to Mis.'! Sarah M. Harding.
At North Bridgewater, by Rev. Mr. Ashley, Mr. Emory
F. Wetherell to Miss Ellen ¥. Gates, both of Worce.-iter.
At New Bedford, by Kev. Mr. Bart, Mr. Lorenzo D. Da^
vis to Miss Susan P. Potter.
At Bradford, by Rev JMr. Munroe, William N. Kimball,
Esq., to Miss Louise Hopkins, of Groveland.
At Portland, Me., by Itev. Dr. Carruthers, Mr. Timothy
E. Stewart to Miss Sarah F. Emery.
At Ctaremont, N. H,. by Bishop Chase, Mr. James E. P.
Stevens, of Boston, to Miss Mary P. Abrams.
At Amsterdam, N. Y., Mr. Timothy C.Pelton, of Spring-
field, Ms., to Miss Sarah B. Arnold.
Receipts. — The Horticultural Exhibition, re-
presented in our last paper, netted $1250.
In this city, Mra. Mary Walker, 39 ; Mra. Judith Smith,
57; Mr. Thomas Drown, 44; Mrs. Margaret B. Robbins,
76; Mr. Samuel H Skimmings, of Halifax, N- S., 29 ; Mias
Nancy Hunt, 65; Mrs. Elizabeth McKenzie, late ot Aber-
deen, Scotland ; Mr. Geo. Knot, 22; Mrs. Lydia Baker, 68.
Ac Roxbury, Mrs. Nancy Sampson, T2.
At Chelsea, Mrs. Joanna W. P. Wilder, 33.
At Cambridge, Nancy Hale, 63.
At Dorchester, Mr. Thomas Lewis, 88.
At Lynn, Mrs. Abigail Brickett, 47.
At Salem, Mrs. Harriet Kendall Treadwell, 61.
At Beverly, Mrs. Mary Sargent, 70.
At Ipswich, Capt. William Willcomb, 55.
At Newburjport, Mr. David W. lleynolda, 27.
At Lowell, Miss Caroline B. Fullcrton, 20.
At Billerica, Mrs. Philadelphia Aldrich, of Bow, 90.
At titchburg, Mrs. Phebe P. Abbott, of Lowell, 34.
At South Dennis, Mr William Dean, 40.
At New Bedford, Mrs. Margaret Young, 40.
At Nantucket, Mrs. Ljdia Calder. 80.
At Worcester, Hon John W. Lincoln, 65.
At Stow, Mr. Walter Miles, of Boston, 46.
At Springfield, Mr. Soljman Merrick, 50.
At Seiibrook, Mr. Edward Gove. 81.
At Portland, Me-, Mr. John R. Hall, 29.
At Kennebunkport, Me , Mrs. Betsey Huff, 68.
At Well.-^, Me., Mrs Abigail tiiiton, 92.
At Duxbury, Vt , Mr. David Phelps, 105.
At Providence, It- 1., Samuel Green, Esq., 44.
At Pomfret, Ct.. Mr. Noah Perrin, ?52.
At iioboken. N. J., Mr. Edwurd Brown, 55.
AND
LITERAHY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
Xlt'rtwiiT(j^H00tn (!l0in;)5rtin0tt,
A Record of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The objec t of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, Bketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEEICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and forei^ news ; the whole
■well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
Trith numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether malcing a paper en-
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contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with tine ana accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
^ven, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-sui'face paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactui-ed cxpres.sly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty -four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim ia constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it atlords, and the rich an-ay of orip-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiciing all
that ia evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
fcombined excellencies.
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Each six montha completes a volume, commencing on
the fiiit of January and July ; thus making two volumes
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[IT?" One copy of the t'LAO of oub Union, and one copy
of the Pictorial Dii-^wisg-Koom Compasiox, one year,
for So 00-
[O^ The Pictoriai. Drawing-Room CosrpA^^o^■ may be
obtained at any of the periodical depoM throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
Published every Saturday, by
F. ULEASON, Boston, Mas8.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
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270
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloaflon'fl Piutorliii.]
MY ANSWER.
BY J. HUNT, Jll.
Tf T were nHkoil, what best I'd prlzo,
Ah Hoprcd gifts I'onforrcd on iiio ;
And which I'd hoard ob troasureH rart»,
My aiiBwor buck would nadly bo :
A mind, that's void of all oITcnce,
A heart, as puro iifl slnleKH youth;
A will, to iicvur swerve from ri|;ht,
A soul, whOBu polur Hbir In truth.
[Writtun for Gloason's Pictoriiil.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. IX.
BT RKV. F. W. HOLLAND.
ENVIU0N3 OP JERUSALEM.
AnonND Jerusalem, the presence of the Great Teacher is more
easily felt tlum witliin the dome-crowned capital : these steep hill-
sides and ancient graves, these twisted olive trees and melancholy
walks remain the same as wlien, over this same mule path, he
crossed the mountains to his friend's house at Bethany, or dis-
coursed with his disciples beneath the forest shelter, or ])rayed in
the solemn shade of the grove at eventide. Bethpliagc is quite un-
known, Bethany has entirclj' lo-;t its name, Kedron is utterly dry
even in the season of rain ; but yet, the valley of Jehoslinphat, of
Gihon and of Hinnom, the pool and village of Siloam, the Mount
of Offence and of Olives, the tombs of the kings and the prophets.
Job's well and the potters' field, the frcsli air, rich slope and
graceful outline of the curtain of Judean hills remain substantially
what they were eighteen centuries ago.
Very impressive is it, and very much in sympathy witli one's
feelings, that Jerusalem is surrounded by tombs. That which
bears the name of Jeremiah, the Turkish Custodc could never bo
found to open : my consolation was, that, after passing through
those tombs at Thebes, nearly as long as the Quincy Market, and
carved all the way above and around, the two chambers honored
by the name of the gloomiest of prophets had not much to exhibit.
The " tombs of the kings " on the same side of the city had rather
a handsomer carved front, very much like an old-fashioned chim-
ney-piece. Through this opening you pass into a spacious ante-
chamber, out of which are three cliambers, each with six or eight
vaults, whose stone door lay flat and fallen before us : but there
arc no hieroglyphics or paintings, the whole wears a modern air,
and no Hebrew inscripiions are to be found. If the tomb of the
Tlmpress Helena, who was buried somewhere here in great mag-
nificence, why so many small a])artments, and why no trace of
her revered name in legendary history? On tlie opposite side of
the city, upon that western slope of Olivet which looks to the
Omar mosque, we visited, what Robinson did not, the tombs of
the prophets and of Absalom, cut out of the live rock, the latter
in almost perfect preservation, surmounted by a little pyramid
and rather a fine-looking monument. In the absence of any cer-
tainty about these names, it is far more pleasant to believe than
to disbelieve. Nothing can be more absurd than to visit a coun-
tiy, whose chief interest is its traditions, for the sake of question-
ing and doubting them all. And it is very certain that this valley
has been watered by the blood of the prophets, and that their
tombs were standing in good repair when — in the twenty-third
chapter of Matthew — Jesus pointed his warning against the
Pharisees.
Higher up on the Mount of Olives, we passed down into a sub-
terranean chapel, and were shown the spot where the disciples
slept while their Master was in his agony. Hard by is Gethscm-
ane, a g.arden enclosed by a lofty stone wall, containing eight
immensely old olive trees, which the friars were just that moment
manuring with their own hands. These trees have evidently en-
joyed such constant care, and present such genuine signs of an-
tiquity, and the olive itself is so capable of prolonged life, that I
could readily believe these to he the immediate descendants of the
original trees; but eighteen hundred years are rather too much
for the age of a fruit tree anywhere. Besides, the Romans bad
an ugly custom of cutting down the groves around a place which
they besieged, every particle of wood that they could obtain being
in demand for the cumbrous military machines, sheds, towers
and battering-rams which we know they employed against
Jerusalem. And yet, too, I liked to feel that, not far from where
I stood, He, whose bosom throbbed with intense love for human-
ity, in sight of the flitting lights of the crowded streets, in hear-
ing of the ancient prayers which went up from thousands of
house-tops, in the quiet air of evening, and with a perfect vision
of all that the dreaded morrow should bring, gave himself up a
willing sacrifice.
The Chapel of the Ascension upon the crest of the hill is evi-
dently a mistake. The Record says that it was toward Bethany,
and Bethany lies hidden in a hollow some ways down on the fur-
ther side of the mountain, a small village, containing the tomb of
Lazarus, and some forty inhabited houses, in the best of which we
passed a tolerable night upon the bard earth -floor.
Siloam hangs on a very steep slope, over the banks of the Ke-
dron, which divides it from the pool bearing the same name : the
" poet Harriet" thought it had " some grandeur," but if Miss
Martincau could have walked with me over heaps of decaying
matter, and been as fiercely assailed by wolfish curs, and seen
there was no decent place in the whole village, she could not have
named it less than llic mcanef>t bole in Syria, " Siloa's Iirook
that fiowcd fa^t by the iii-iii-Ie of God"!/, quite a difi'erent thing,
and its waters still roll on as clear ami sweet as ever; the fountain
of Mary, more to the nurtli, which was perhaps tiio " king's pool"
of Nehemiah, feeds Siloa ; and is supplied itself with a peculiar
bubbling and a sudden swell at times, from a singular .source that
has been discovered but not explored under the great mosque :
this again no doubt comes from the " pools of Solomon," which
still remain near Bethlelieni, and send their unfailing blessing
through the aqueduct, believed to be nearly three thousand years
old. At the upper ibuntain, wiiich Is directly bencatli the old
temple's walls, you descend twenty-six stone steps, and come to
a stream a foot deep, purling sweetly over a pebbly bed seven-
teen hundred feet, through a sulitcrrancous canal, as was jusccr-
tained by the examination of Dr. Robinson. This issues in a
deep, nearly square, i)it, wlicre persons are lo be fmen every day
drawing water, a number of gardens and orchards arc supplied
through a small conduit, and a very agreeable change is made
from the yellow barrenness of the hill-tops, and the gloomy as-
pect of such a multitude of graves.
Opposite to this, and just above the Absalom monument, the
Jews love to rest, little thinking how much of their history is
symbolized in that of the spoilt child of David. They prefer it
to all the world for a resting place, and gladly sacrifice everything
to sleej) here in the dust hallowed by their holiest and nolilest.
The mountain-slope is entirely covered with Hebrew inscriptions,
and I found them frequently making more. Here, they think, the
Redeemer will come with the sound of trumpet to judge the na-
tions, and avenge his own people, according to Zecharlah, the
prophet.
It is amazing, that while the view from the Mount of Olives is
so wonderfully rich, the Mount itself, like the other hills, remains
most of the day and all the evening, unvisited. To the east you
look do\vn upon the rich plain of Jericho, in the distance, the
desolate mountains of the Temptation, the appalling loneliness of
the Dead Sea, and behind that again utter desolation. To the
west, beneath your feet, is the valley of the Kedron, running
down by Hinnon or Gehenna, where now tiie savage-fire of Mo-
loch, or that which consumed the city ofi^al, is alike extinguished,
though naturally enough the accursed flame gave an appalling
idea of punishment to the Jew of ancient time : the inaccessible
summit of Moriah lies mapped out beneath your eye, you see how
irregularly the buildings are arranged, bow much over-praised the
general effect has been, and how straggling are the turbaned
worshippers. More in the heart of the city is the huge cupola
over the sepulchre, and to the left the mosque, David's tomb at
Mount Zion, and the pretty English church of St. James, over a
spot consecrated by Christian martyrdom. At the nortii stretch
Ebal and Gerizim, and the mountains of Ephraim, all inbatfited
still with thrilling memories of the suffering and triumph of the
chosen race.
An hour and a quarter of smart riding Ijrought us to Bethle-
hem, a small, dirty, half-ruined place, hanging on a hill-side, hav-
ing nothing save the large convent and church erected by the
Empress Helena upon the place of the Nativity. On the way you
pass the undoubted tomb of Rachel, once only a pyramidal col-
umn of stones, and now a modern Turkish structure, and the
Greek convent of St. Elias, where he is said to have rested on
his way from Bethlehem to Mount Zion.
The soil around Betbleliera is excellent, but, not much culti-
vated, the people not being numerous or energetic enough to
repel assault, and the Bedouins always hovering near to steal
even their unripe crops. The Moslem quarter was entirely de-
stroyed because of the rebellious character of its inhabitants, and
none but Christians occujiy the village now; but the story of the
people's t)eing disarmed cannot be true, because there was a con-
stant popping off of muskets while we were there, in honor of the
Armenian bishop, who had just concluded some festival service,
and was returning with a motley crowd to Jerusalem. The tlirce
thousand inhabitants assigned by the books must be twice or
thrice the present population.
But the main thing is the spacious, castle-like convent and
church on the side towards Jerusalem. The Latins, Armenians,
and Greeks hold their church in some sort together : the Arme-
nian chapel is poor and mean ; the Greek has some beautiful
m.arbles, but nothing to compare with Italy; the Latin is distinct
from the others, but neither large nor handsome. The Convent
of Franciscans is marked by the same air of voluntary poverty
noticed at Acre : the brethren were exceedingly polite and hospit-
able, begging us to tarry with them and share their table, and
freely opening to us the whole building. St. Jerome's cell was
shown first, in which he made his version of the Scriptures, and
died A. D. 426, and was buried under the pavement of the
church. In an underground grotto, the place of the Saviour's
birth, once marked by a silver star, was pointed out— the star is
gone now, stolen, say the Latins, by the Greeks, and the spot
where the wise men worshipped, with that of the cradle, each
marked by an altar, and greeted by the embraces and prayers of
all true pilgrims. Our servant kissed every such place with in-
tense satisfaction, and it was pleasant to see one whose life had
neither comfort nor promise, filling his heart so full of hallowing
memories.
The Chapel of the Nativity never deserved to be termed "gor-
geous," though splendid lamps, the offerings of all the world,
throw their ever-burning lustre around.
From the convent we were carried into several houses to inspect
and purchase crosses, chaplcts, roses of Jericho, and carved shells,
and our horses were surrounded by men and boys exceedingly
eager for a bargain. It is indeed the only life of tlic place ; and
we must not complain of the ignorant natives for manufacturing,
if the most intelligent European visitors are ever eager to pur-
cliasc.
[WrltU'ii for Gleimon'B Pictorial.]
AUTOGRAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED DfDIVrDTIAlS.
No, Vlll.
BY WM. BDWARD KNOWLEB.
Geo. R. Graii.v.m is well known to the literary world as editor
of " Graham's Magazine." He has contributed considerably to this
periodical, and written it w(ll. His manuscri])t Is extremely il-
I'jgible, and shockingly acrntchy. Yet it plainly Indicates more
than ordinary eiwi/jy, a quality which he possesses in an eminent
degree.
Godey's reputation as a magazine conductor, is par with that
of Graham's. And though not an author of distinction, yet his
autograph is valuable in many respects. The literature of Amer-
ica owes much of its perfection to him. He has encouraged na-
tive talent, and caused many shining lights in the galaxy of
American authors to bask in the sunshine of popularity.
Mr. McMakin, the editor of the " Saturday Courier," has pro-
duced some fine things in the way of poetry. His manuscript
is rather picturesque, and conveys the idea of a true perception of
the beautiful. The chirogrnphy resembles Godey's, tliough more
uniform.
Chakles J. Peterson has for several years been connected with
the literature of the city of Philadelphia. Ho was, we believe,
one of the editors of " Graham." His manuscript, when hurried,
is no writing at all, bat a mere continuation of characters. This
is owing to the slight variation in the form of the letters. But
when not excited, it is graceful in the extreme.
cj^r^<^ ^^^
o
Louis Blanc. There are few men that write a more marked
hand than Louis Blanc. It is legible in the extreme, and sug-
gests firmness and decision. He has written some valuable
works, among which are his articles on the "Organization of
Labor," which, when collected in book form, ran though several
editions. His " History of the French Revolution" is indeed a
master-work, and has, we believe, been well received generally.
The sio^nature is rather more diminutive than the rest of his
manuscript.
No one can doubt for a moment that Andrew Jackson D.vvis
is a genius, and a most queer and indefinable one too. He is well
known to the public as being one of the cliampions of what is
termed the new doctrine of spiritualism. Mr. Davis writes a
very good hand, but as he has often declared that it is a departed
spirit and not himself who guides Ills pen, he certainly is deserv-
ing no particular credit for his style of chitography.
Epes Sargent is the well-known and talented editor of the
Boston Transcript, whose fame as a poet is by no means limited ;
but he has come more prominently before the public lately as the
editor of a superior work on elocution, entitled " Sargent's Stan-
dard Speaker," a most valuable work. Mr. Sargent's signature,
like his thoughts, is easy and flowing.
Geo. p. Morris. Who has not long been familiar with the
author of " Woodman, spare that tree V Morris and Willis are
synonymous names, and, as everybody knows, they are partners in
tlie Homo Journal newspaper of New York. There is a delicacy
and completeness in the general's sigmxture that is characteristic
of his universally popular ballads. Few writers in this country
liave proved more ])Opular or successful than George P. Morris.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
271
AIV I3I3IEKSE SHIP.
The Boston AtUis says, Mr. McKay, of East
Boston, is now at work upon a clipper ship,
■which will surpass in size and sharpness every
merchant ship afloat or known to be in the course
of construction. She will be three hundred f^et
long, have fifty feet breadth of beam, twenty-
eight feet depth of hold, with three decks, and
will register over three thousand tons ! Slic will
be diagonally braced with iron, and built in
every particular equal in strength to the best of
ocean steamers. Her model, in point of beauty,
is the wonder and admiration of all who have
seen it. She will have four masts, with Forbcs's
rig. Mr. McKay builds her on his own account,
and will sail her too, if he does not sell her.
A KINGLY EXAMPLE.
One of the first acts performed by George the
Third, after his accession to the throne of Eng-
land, was to issue an order prohibiting anj' of
the clergy who should be called before him from
paying liim any compliments in their discourses.
His majesty was led to this from the fulsome
adulation which Dr. Thomas Wilson, ])rebenda-
ry of Westminster, thought proper to deliver in
the royal chapel ; and for which, instead of
thanks, he received a pointed reprimand — his
majesty observing " that he came to hear the
praise of God, and not his own.*'
BURMAG FLCID.
No amount of care can insure perfect safety
when using this explosive compound. The
more brilliant the light from it, the more liable
it is to generate a gas which, being mixed with
common air, becomes explosive. This gas is
always present in the upper part of the lamp,
and there is never any certainty that the flame
of the lamp will not cause it to explode. Have
nothing to do with the " liquid gunpowder."
Minot's Ledge. — Many of our readers will
remember the picture which we gave in our first
volume of the Pictorial, of the loss of Minot's
Ledge Lighthouse. "We see that government is
about to build another and more substantial bea-
con light upon the spot.
Natal. — The Hon. J. P. Kennedy, Secretary
of the Navy, visited our navy yard, at Charles-
town, a few days since, and expressed much
satisfaction at the appearance of this fine national
establishment, which we have fully illustrated for
our readers in former numbers.
Taste for Liter.vtuke. — A taste for litera-
ture secures cheerful occupation for the unem-
ployed and languid hours of life ; and how many
persons, in these hours, for want of innocent re-
sources, are now impelled to coarse and brutal
pleasure !
Life of Hosea Balloit. — Any person en-
closing Si to Abel Tompkins, publisher, Boston,
can have a copy of this book, by the editor of
the Pictorial, sent by mail, or otherwise, as may
be directed.
It cost a quarter of a million of dollars to bury the late
King of Siam.— £o.^(oH Banner.
Funny that it costs one more to die than it
does to live. — Being naturally economical, we
prefer most decidedly to live !
Conversation. — Sir W. Temple says that
the first ingredient in conversation is truth; the
next, good sense; the third, good-humor, and
the fourth, wit.
Vulgar Fractions— exemplified by two
lines out of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village;"
" While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for fihow.
Ranged o'er the chimney, gli3t«ned iu a row 1"
Musical. — Camille Urso, the famous little
Italian violinist, according to our New York ex-
change papers, has proved entirely successful in
her debut in America.
Masonic Temple. — Mr. Dempster, the fiivor-
ite hallad singer, has been rendering this place
musical with his vocal efforts, on Saturday even-
ings. Mr. D. is very popular in our city.
The Ether Controversy. — This subject, it
seems, is not yet exhausted ; another instalment
being promised to the public!
Rapping Convention.— This meeting, which
came off at Worcester, not long since, was a
most ludicrously ridiculous affair.
lllaiJsiLie (!?atljcriugs.
The Eousset sisters have been performing in
Albany.
Sontag is most happily named, that being the
German for Sunday.
Commodore Salter has received orders to take
command of the Brazil squadron.
Measures for the independence of Lower Cal-
ifornia were still in progress.
Capt. Kalapza, late of Kossuth's suite, has
opened a riding school in this city.
The corn crop in Tennessee and Georgia is
reported to be the largest ever produced.
The new planet discovered by Mr. Hind, has
been named by him " Melpomene."
Sextus declared that he would " rather be fet-
tered with ailliction than pleasure."
The total debt of the city of Charleston, S. C,
is SI,S82,285 Gl.
A writer in the Louisville Journal says the
whole West will not produce over 35,000 hhds.
tobacco this season.
The first locomotive brought to this country
was from Liverpool. Recently she was repaired
at Tamaquc, Pa., and is now doing duty.
There ai-e two men in Cincinnati, born and
reared in the West, who are firm believers in the
Muhommedan faith.
A chestnut tree. Centre Sti'eet, Pottsville, is
covered with fi-esh blossoms, nnd at the same
time hanging full with seasonable buns.
Richard Walker, Jr., has been convicted at
Sijringfield, Mass., for the murder of his father,
while intoxicated.
Mr. James Dcverell Gibbon, once a popular
English vocalist, recently died in a poor-house,
aged 74.
Gen. Persifer F. Smith, who is in command
upon the Texan frontier, was recently compli-
mented with a public festivity.
Anabaptists are forbidden to preach or meet
for worsiiip within the territory of Hanover,
under pain of imprisonment.
The potato rot has made its appearance in
Western Virginia, though thus far the damage
has been slight.
Richard Adams Locke has been engaged to
write for Miss Julia Dean, a five act play, found-
ed on n prominent event in American histoiy.
A writer in the New York Tribune estimates
that tea could be produced in the United States
at from five and a half to seven cents per pound.
During the present year, there have passed
through Iowa city, about 40,000 emigrants for
California, and 10,000 for Oregon.
Great activity prevails at the Austrian navy-
yard in Venice. Two new propeller frigates
have been ordered to be built in England.
A Canadian paper suggests that a law be
passed forbidding steam vessels upon the lakes
coming within half a mile of each other.
There are three sorts of friends — your friends
who like you, your friends who do not care for
you, and your friends who hate you.
In New York city, during the last week, there
w(re eight cases of murder, homicide, or deadly
assault by the knife, the pistol, or brutal violence.
In the days of Charles II., the ladies used to
frizzle their curls with the nicest art, and call
them " heart breakers !" Fashions in this re-
spect have not changed.
It is said that three or four judges in New
York city are constantly employed in granting
naturalization papers to foreigners desu'ous of
becoming citizens.
Mr. Wm. D. Arnctt, of Iowa, has made cer-
tain improvements in the locomotive, by which
it is adapted to running on plank or macadera-
izcd roads.
A Yankee has invented a new and cheap plan
for boarding. One of the boarders mesmerizes
the rest, and then eats a hearty meal, the mes-
merized being satisfied from sympathy.
The whole of the Hudson's Bay Company's
hufi'ato robes, amounting to two hundred and
thirty-three bales, have been sold at Montreal,
at five dollars each robe.
Should Louis Napoleon be made emperor, he
will reign as Napoleon IU., not II., as that
title belonged to the king of Rome, son of Napo-
leon I., though he never reigned.
James Hogg, an Engli.shman, was recently
convicted of smuggling into Paris revolutionary
papers, and sentenced to six months' imprison-
ment and 3000 francs fine.
There are in Virginia, 550 Baptist churches,
90,000 members, and 413 ministers. The Rev.
John Clay, the father of Henry Clay, was a
Baptist preacher, and a resident of Hanover
county.
Edward S( guin, the popular basso and found-
er of the excellent operatic troupe of that name,
has been engaged by James Wallack, Sr., of the
Lyceum, New York, to appear iu eccentric
comedy.
The brig Mount Vernon, from Havana for
New Orleans, was caps^izcd at sea on the 10th of
September, and immediately sunk. Eleven of
the crew were drowned ; the captain and five of
the crew were saved.
The directors of the Camden and Amboy
Railroad Company have provided medicine
chests for each train of cars, so that in case of
sickness or an accident, the proper remedies will
be accessible at the shortest notice.
Jbrcign fllistcllang.
j\riss Martineau, the authoress, is on a tour
through Ireland.
The bullion in the bank of England has in-
creased to £21,500,000.
The statistical congress proposed to be held
in Brussels during the present year, is postponed.
Father Mathew, the noted tetotaller, and five
other Roman Catholic priests, have sailed for
Calcutta.
Advices from Milan state that two girls of the
ballet have been whipped for their politics, and
sixteen Milanese shot.
Lady Louisa Lc Poer Trench was frightened
to death by a flash of lightning while attending
church in Kildare lately.
Letters from the various seaports indicate that
the French goveniment is devoting much atten-
tion to strengthening the steam navy.
The crew of her majesty's steam yacht, Victo-
ria and Albert, were recently detected smuggling
tobacco from Antwerp to England.
The latest reprint of an American book in
England, is Richard Ilildreth's " White Slave."
It is announced as a companion to " Uncle Tom's
Cabin" and the "Mayflower," by Mrs. Stowe.
A musical balloon ascent took place at Vaux-
hall, recently. Ten performers, with brass in-
struments, ascended, ])laying " The National
Anthem," followed by "The British Grenadiers."
The chloride of zinc is now used in Paris for
the preservation of anatomical specimens : a
prize of 2000 francs has been awarded to M.
Sucquet, the inventor of the new method of em-
balming for the discovery.
The eldest son of the famous William Cobbett
has been confined in a debtor's prison for the
last thirteen years. The detaining creditor,
however, has lately relented, and ]\Ir. Cobbett
has been released.
The Valparaiso Reporter says that the colonial
authorities at the Falkland Islands have decreed
that vessels of all flags may load guano in the
island, by paying five shillings sterling per ton,
asking for a license from government to do so.
Fasciola, publisher of the revolutionary paper
at Havana, The Voice of the People, was gar-
rotted on the 26th ult. He met his fate with
composure. His parents, who resided in a neigh-
boring town, were denied communication with
him previous to his death.
The Liverpool Standard of the 31st August,
has an account of the arrest of an American
forger, named Murphy, in Dublin. He had em-
ployed an engraver of that city to execute a plate
on the bank of Hartford, which was duly com-
pleted, a trap having, in the meantime, been set
for Murphy's conviction.
j3anlJ0 of ©ollr.
.... Labor is a business and ordinance of
God.
.... The heart, like the veins, bleeds most
readily when warm.
.... Lies are hiltless swords, which cut the
hands that wield tliem.
.... Wholesome sentiment is rain, which
makes the fields of daily life fresh and odorous.
.... Knowledge is proud that he has learned
so much, wisdom is humble that he knows no
more.
The good heart, the tender feelings, and
the pleasant disposition, make smiles, love and
sunshine everywhere.
.... Zeal, not rightly directed is pernicious ;
for as it makes a good cause better, so it makes
a bad cause worse.
.... Intense mental activity steadily directed
to some leading pursuit is the source of all dis-
tinction.
.... Wi^e men are instructed by reason ; men
of less understanding by experience ; the most
ignorant by necessity ; and brutes by nature.
, . . . Dignity is often a veil between us and
the real truth of things. Wit pierces this veil
■with its glittering shafts, and lets in the " inso-
lent light."
Hasty words often rankle the wound
which injury gives ; but soft words as.=uagc ir,
forgiving cures it, and forgetting takes away the
scar.
Remember, ye who ridicule a young man
for his par6imony,and stigmatize him as "small,"
that by-and by he can afi'ord to be generous when
you have nothing to give.
.... Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs
down the hill, lest it break thy neck with follow-
ing it ; but the great one that goes up the hill,
let hira draw thee after — Shaispeare.
.... Help and give willingly, when you have
anything, and think not the more of }0urself ;
and if you have nothing, keep the cup of cold
water always at hand, and think not less of
yourself.
Beauty has but little to do with engaging
the love of woman. The air, the manner, the
tone, the conversation, the something that inter-
ests, and the something to be proud of; these
are the attributes of the man bound to be loved.
.... A preacher once said : " If you know
anything that will make a brother's heart glad,
run quick and tell, it ! but if it is something that
will only cause a sigh, io^/e it up, bottle it vp!"
We never get good bread for ourselves till we
begin to ask for our brethren."
Joker's Subgct.
Punch says he is preparing a bill to prevent
cruelty to quotations, which he means to lay be-
fore Parliament at an early day.
At what time of life may a man be said to be-
long to the vegetable kingdom ? When expe-
rience has made him sage.
A Scotch gentleman puts the postage stamp
wrong way up on his letters, and calls it with a
tender feeling — turning a penny ! — Punch.
If five dollars make a sovereign, how many
will make a president "? Think twice before you
answer.
The last and most important case brought be-
fore the niayor, at Tinnecum, was that of an
"assault and battery, with intent to kick."
A fellow, who was being led to execution,
told the olticers they must not take him through
a certain street, lest a merchant, who resided
there, should arrest him for an old debt !
An exquisite instance of flattery is related of a
maid of honor in France, who, being asked by
the queen what o'clock it was, answered, " What
your majesty pleases."
A young fellow offered to bet the teacher of a
young ladies' grammar school, wdio was boasting
of the proHcicncy of his pupils, that not one of
them would "decline" a husband.
There is a lake in Minncfota called Minne-
tonka, which must be very clear and very deep,
for a strange genius, in describing it, says, by
looking into it you can see them making tea in
China.
A French officer, quarrelling with a Swiss, re-
proached him with his country's vice of fighting
on either side for wo/(e^; " while we Frenchmen,"
said he, " Hght for honor." " Yes, sir," replied
the Swiss; "everyone fights for that he most
wants."
The ultra dandies of New York are adopting
the mouse-tail fashion for moustaches, described
by us, last year, as the military fashion on the
Cascine, at Florence. By means of gum, or
soap, the moustaches are made to stand out on
either side the face, like the horns of a catfish !
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes Ist and 2d of the Pictorial Dbawisq
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edgeu
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and moat
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Toir and Five Hundred Pag-es,
AND COSTAINirJG KEAELT
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illuatratioas, it embraces hi its pages
a vast Jimount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems :iDd Nov-
elettes, from the best of American culhors, ftith a current
News Kecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference aud
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustnitioas.
Fer sale at the Publication OlBce, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Tiiree Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNION,
AN ELEGANT, MOKAL AND REFIt;!^
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
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P. GLEASON,
PTTBLIBHETt AND PhOPBIETOB, BOSTOHj MAB9.
272
GLEASON'S I'ICTORIAL DRAWINCJ ROOM COMPANION.
COSIOLPS COLU3IKIJ.S GROUP.
TliC aniicxuil I'lij^riivin^' of u poiip iTpvrscnt-
inp; " Columltus iiiiN'ciliri^j; the New to tlie Old
World/' W114 copK-d hy our artist from the model
by the distiri^^uisjied dcsi^^ncr himnelf, CostoH —
the profe-isor of snilpturo and architecture in the
academy of line arts in Florence. This fine
group is regarded as the c/ifj'-d'amvre of the
sculptor hy the patrons of the arts in Italy
anil in Kngland — the model, from wliicli the
engraving is taken, having been exhibited in
London by order of tlie owner, the Grand Duko
of Tuscany, during the World's Fair. Colum-
bus k represented in the most beautiful and
characteristic action
of his life, namely,
in the moment of his
unveiling the New
to the Old World.
The position of the
figures gives a clear
view of the standing
of the several coun-
tries on our globe,
and also of some of
their chaiacterisiic
qualities. Thus
Asia, cradle of man-
kind and of ancient
science, and at the
same time the larg-
est and richest in
natural gifts, is seat-
ed high. Kuropc, as
the one who main-
tains the fii-st rank
for moral and physi-
cal cultivation, has
a dignified and sjjir-
itual expression, and
seems surprised at
the unexpected dis-
covery of the great
Italian. Africa,
prostrated under sla-
very, in its torpor is
hardly noticing the
great event ; while
America, scarcely
observing the others,
looks astonished at
Columbus, doubtfnl
■whether to be grate-
ful, but in her uncer-
tainty keeps within
herself, and bids
them defiance. The
discoverer is not sur-
rounded by many
figures, and the artist
seems to have pre-
ferred the greatest
simplieity of idea to
a fantastic or highly
ornamented compo-
sition. That it is by
far the best design
yet made of a monu-
ment worthy of the
gre;it Genoese — that
tills country is the
most appropriate to
be possessor of it —
and that the seat of
the national govern-
meiit should have
this among those cre-
ations of art, with
which the taste and
energy of its citizens
have adorned and
are adorning it, are,
considerations which
have attracted the at-
tention of a wealthy
and distinguished
Italian, and that of a
number of citizens
of this country. In
pursuance of these
thoughts, several cit-
izens of the cities of
Washington and N.
York have associat-
ed themselves to-
gether to aid the
agents of the sculp-
tor, the Fabbri Bro-
thers, of New York,
and have erected a
colossal marble rep-
resentation of this
model in the former
city. The group and
pedestal are intend-
ed to be forty feet in
height. They will
be greatly aided in
their laudable effort by large assistance in Italy,
and with this aid, the main prop of their under-
taking, it will require comparatively little exer-
tion on the part of our people to raise the addi^
tional sum necessary to place this noble allegory
in the -first style of the art upon the site so appro-
priately selected. Indeed, the site is one of the
finest in the capital of the Union. It is the sum-
mit of the beautiful swell of ground, on Monu-
ment Square, between the Smithsonian Institute
and the National Washington Monument, and
thus will he visible from nearly all parts of the
city of Washington, and also in full view of
these gieat national works, and the Capitol, the
President's Houftc, and several other of the pub-
lie buildings, the waters of the Potomac, and the
bills of the Virginia shore. From the high char-
nctyr of thy friends of the sculptor and of the
committee under whoso supervision the Fubbri
Brotlicrs net, and tlii', great aid wliicli the project
is receiving in Europe — the erection of the mon-
ument is looked upon by those acquainted with
its connections, as a certainty. The fame of the
sculjjtor assures us that his piirt will be well per-
formed— our knowiedgi' of the ground selected
that it is appropi'iately located in cveiy sense —
and the engraving which accompanies this arti-
cle must impress the reader that the admirers of
the art have not given too high an opinion wlicn
they deem that this chi-J-d'ornvm of CostoH stands
in prefci'cnce to anything which genius has yet
presented as worthy of the great discoverer, and
image of Christoplier Columbus, and forming
the entrance to tlie tomb where rest the ashes of
this discoverer of a Westei-n World. Here, loo,
are the iron chains with which an ungrateful sov-
ereign once loaded him. Columbus died in Va-
ladolid in l.^Uii. In ITjiahisremains were trans-
ferred to Seville, preparatory to their being sent,
as desired in his will, to St. Domingo. When
that island was ceded to France, tlic remains
were delivered to the Spaniards. This was in
1 79G, one hundred and tliree years af(er they had
been jilaced there ; they were brought with great
])omp to Havana in a national ship, and were
deposited in the presence of all the high authori-
VIEW OF COSTOLl's COLUMBUS GROUP.
the republic which directs and controls the des-
tinies of the land which he is here represented as
unveiling to the Old World. We wish it, as it
eminently deserves, most abundant success. —
In our private journal, kept during a visit to the
West Indies, we find the following memorandum,
which may interest the reader in this connection.
The cathedral of Havana is the finest we have
ever seen, and is situated in the Calle del Igna-
cio. Its towers, and pillared front of defaced and
moss-grown stone, call back associations of cen-
turies gone by. This cathedral, like all Catholic
churches, is ornamented with many fine old
paintings of large size and immense value. The
entire dome is also ornamented by paintings in
fresco. The chief object that attracted our at-
tention was a tablet of marble inlaid in the wall
at the right of the altar, having upon its face the
ties, in the cathedral. Tlie church itself, aside
from this prominent feature of interest, is vastly
attractive from its ancient character and appear-
ance, and one lingers with mysterious delight
among its marble aisles and confessionals. In
Blake's Biographical Dictionary we find the fol-
lowing fiiets, which we compile as interesting to
accompany the fine engraving given herewith.
Columbus entered upon a seafaring life at the
age of 14. He married the daughter of an old
Italian seaman, from whose journals and charts
he received the highest entertainment. He
now conceived his great design of finding India
in the west. He knew from observing lunar
eclipses, that the earth was a sphere, and con-
cluded that it might be travelled over from west
to cast. Having established his theory and
formed his design, he now began to think of tlie
means of carrying it into execution. Deeming
the enterprise too great to he undertaken liy any
but a sovereign Ktate, lie applied first, it is said,
to the republic of Genoa, or to John 11, king of
I*ortugal. He next repaired to Ferdinand, king
of Spain. The proposal of Colurntius was re-
jected by the most learned men in Spain to wliom
the king had referred it. But by the influence
of Juan Perez, a Spanish priest, and Lewis San-
tangel, an officer of the king's household, queen
Isabella was persuaded to listen to his request,
and after he had been twice repulsed, recalled
him to court. By an agreement with their Cath-
olic maiesticB of April 17, 1492, he was to he
viceroy and admiral
of all the countries
which he should dis-
cover, and was to
receive one tenth
part of the profits
accruing from their
commerce and pro-
diiciions. He mailed
from Palos in Spain,
J*'riday, August .3d,
1492, with tlirce ves-
sels, two of which
were called caravels,
Ijcing small vessels
without decks, ex-
cept perhaps at the
ends, having on
board in the whole,
ninety men. He left
Canaries Sept. fith,
and when he was
about two hundred
leagues to the west,
the magnetic needle
was observed Sept.
1 4th, to vary from
the pole star. This
phenomenon filled
the seamen with ler-
ror, but his fertile
gen ius,by suggesting
a plau^iMc reason,
in some degree qui-
eted their apprehen-
sions. After being
twenty days at sea,
without sight of land,
some of them talked
of throwing their
commander into the
ocean. All his tal-
ents were required
to stimulate their
hopes. At length,
when he was almost
reduced to the ne-
cessity of abandon-
ing the enterprise, at
ten o'clock in the
night of Oct. llth,
he saw a light, which
was supposed to be
on shore, and early
next morning, Fri-
day, Oct. 12th, land
was distinctly seen,
which proved to be
Guanabana, one of
the Bahama isl-
ands. Thus he ef-
fected an object
which he had been
twenty years in pro-
jecting and execut-
ing. At sunrise the
boats were manned,
and the adventurers
rowed towards the
shore with music and
in martial pomp. — ■
The coast was cov-
ered with people,
who were completely
overwhelmed with
astonishment. Co-
lumbus was first on
shore, and was fol-
lowed by his men.
They all kneeling
down, kissed the
ground with tears of
joy, and returned
thanks for their suc-
cessfulvoyage. This
island, which is in
north latitude 25,
Columbus named
San Salvador. Hav-
ing discovered a
number of other isl-
ands, and among
them Cuba, Oct. 27,
and Hispaniola,Dec.
6th, he began to think of returning. His large
ship having been wrecked on the shoals of His-
paniola, he built a fort with her timber, and left
behind him a colony of thirty-nine at the port,
which he called Navidad, the nativity, because
he entered it on Christmas day. From this
place he sailed Jan 4, 1492. During his pas-
sage, when threatened with destruction by a vio-
lent storm, he wrote an account of his discoveries
on parchment, wliich he enclosed in a cake of
wax. This he put into a cask, and threw it into
the sea, with the hope, that it might be driven
on shore, and that his discoveries might not be
lost, if the vessel should sink. But he was prov-
identially saved, and arrived at Lisbon Mai'ch 4.
He was received with the highest tokens of honor
by the king and queen, who made him admiral
of Spain. Thus ended his first voyage.
F. GLEASON,
( CORNER BROMFIELD
i AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1852.
S2 PER VOLUME, i
10 ctb. single. I
Vol. in. No. 18.— Whole No. 70.
NEW HABIPSHIRE STATE FAIR,
Our artist, Mr. Manning, has presented for us
below a very fine, accurate and comprehensive
view of the late State Fair, which took place at
Meredith Bridge, N. H., on the 6th, 7th and 8th
of the present month. It was the third annual
assembly of the kind held by the New Hampshire
State Agricultural Society. Hon. George W.
Nesraith, President, assisted by the following
gentlemen as vice-presidents, and a numerous
executive committee ; John H. Steele, Hills-
boro'; Joseph Sawyer, Grafton ; Ruel Durkee,
Sullivan ; David Buffum, Chesliire ; Samuel
Tilton, Belknap; Levi Bartlett, Merrimack;
Oliver Hill, Carroll ; Henry F. French, Eocking-
ham ; William F. Fstes, Strafford, and Simeon
Warner, Coos. The exhibition was held on
what is called the " Old Muster Field," situated
near to the depot, within an enclosure of thirty
acres. Water ran through one part of the field,
furnishing an inexhaustible supply, and was ap-
proachable for a long extent, in its original bed,
known there as the " Durkee Brook," a stream
of mountain purity direct from Mount Belknap.
This water was also exhibited by mechanical
power at different points on the field, so that
the ingenuity of machinery and thequality of the
water were tested both together. The exhi-
bition grounds were in readiness on tlic 4th.
Yale's three largest tents were erected within the
grounds, for the exhibition of implements, ma-
chinery, manufactures, and fancy articles of
every description. Conveniences for the accom-
modation of stock, hay and grain were amply
provided, free of charge, to the exhibitors.
Committees were in attendance at the depot and
tiie hotels to direct strangers to the grounds, to
assist in driving stock and to provide lodgings.
The railroads throughout the State conveyed
stock and all other articles, intended for exhibi-
tion, free, at the riisk of the owners, and passen-
ger* at half price. William S. King, Esq., of
Rhode Island, delivered the address. His repu-
tation as a powerful speaker and \vriter ensured
him an attentive audience. Hon. Frank Pierce,
Hon. Koah Martin, governor of the State, and
several other distinguished citizens of N. H., and
other States were present. Meetings of the so-
ciety were held on tlie Wednesday and Thursday
evenings subsequent, at one of the churches, for
free discussion, addresses, etc. Altogether the
whole affair was highly creditable to all con-
cerned, and cannot but prove beneficial to the
cause of agriculture in the Granite State. Our
artist has succeeded in giving our readers a most
life like view of the scene.
/M^.y „f^
VIEW OF THE NEW HAMl'SHIRE STATE FAIB, AT MEKEMIH BRIDGE.
274
GLEASON'S IMCTOPJAL DRAWIXG nOOM C0:MPAXI0X.
Entared according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clerk's Office of llie
District Court of Massacliusetts.
I WRITTEN EXPItESSLY FOK OLKASOn'S PI0TOlnAI,.|
miri
mE
THE SIGM OF THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Tale of llac Ciinip and (Jourt of Bosiapartc.
BY B. PERLEY POORE.
CHArXER I.
THE i\tVSTIC TIE.
The Pyramids of Egj-pt. Earth cannot pro-
duce a more varied or a more interesting land-
scape, than that which is yisihlc from their sum-
mitSj nor one embracing so many monuments of
human greatness or of Divine omnipotence. On
one side is the lovely and majestic land of Go-
shen, watered by the fcrLilizing Nile, whose broad
tide meanders like a serpent among villages,
and palaces, and olive groves, and gardens —
■while on the other hand is the fearful desert, its
sandy waste stretching to the far-off horizon,
without exhibiting any traces of vegetation or of
human existence. Nothing can be more beau-
tifully illustrative than that valley, decked in its
rich mantle of verdure, and adorned with rare
architectural ornaments ; — nothing is a more
fearful type of death than that grave like desert.
What a symbolic locality for the Pyramids,
those ancient temples erected by the brothers of
the " mystic tic." And, their successors in the
secret, who make pilgrimages from distant lands
to the old fountain head of their rites and cere-
monies, can yet read upon each massive pile,
graven ill hieroglyphic characters, the dedication
])laced there three thousand years ago. " Supe-
rior to all on earth, that has been, that is, and
that will be — nor can any save the initiated raise
the veil." So mole it be.
Between the Pyramids and the banks of the
Nile {where, as tradition says, Pharaoh's gentle
daughter had a country residence), there stands
a beautiful Jciosk, or summer palace. It is a
massive stone building, painted in gay stripes,
and studded with large projecting windows, cov-
ered with lattice-work, through wliich the vision
of no curious passer-by can penetrate. A re-
freshing shade is afforded by clusters of huge
palm trees, and, extending to the river's bank, a
smiling garden lies embosomed in a grove of
myrtles, acacias, and pomegranates.
Towards the close of the last centuiy, this kiosk
was the home of Mourad Bey, chieftain of the
Mamelukes, a chosen band of arbitrary warriors,
who dazzled the Egyptian people with their pa-
rade of magnincence, and struck terror into the
hearts of their surrounding enemies by their
chivalric daring. Their ranks were recruited
from the slave-marts of Alexandria, and a score
of youth were ever in training at the chieftain's
tiosJc, where most of them soon forgot their na-
tive Circassian or Albanian homes. There, want
had been their portion until their relatives sold
them to the slave-trader. But if they possessed
sufficient intelligence and manly beauty to tempt
the Mameluke purveyor, they at once became
the favored youth of Egypt. Ercnch and Italian
instructors stored their minds, while veterans
taught them how to manage Arabian steeds, to
poise the lance, and to wield the scimitar with
deadly skill. And, as a stimulus to exertion, of
body and of mind, each one knew that when
death or old age caused a vacancy in the band
of leaders, the best qualified slave was selected
to fill it. Rich armor, fine horses, and all that
a follower of the Prophet can desire, were thence-
forth his.
Our story commences with the promotion of
one of these Mameluke cadets, named Osmanli.
He had been purchased when young, much to
the surprise of the slave-dealer, who could not
imagine that such a young stripling would ever
make an athletic warrior. In this opinion his
purchaser secretly concurred, but a peculiar
mark, tattooed in blue characters upon the boy's
arm, touched the Mameluke's heart. Hazarding
Iiis reputation as a knowing purchaser, he sent
the lad up to Cairo, and soon saw with great
satisfaction, that those' who jested at his judg-
ment would be deceived. Ere he had attained
his sixteenth year, young Osmanli was imdoubt-
edly t!ie first among the cadets. He spoke
French and Italian with fluency, had read the
Koran, and was a skillful engineer. And, wiiile
his naturally fine intellect was enriched far in
adv.ance of his comrades, his bodily powers had
so matured, that he excelled them in all athletic
sports and warlike exercises. Eminently hand-
some, as though a sculptor had moulded his
form he displayed in every feature a spirit of the
manliest daring and valor. Thick, glossy black
hair waved gracefully over his noble brow, for
the Mamelukes did not shave their heads (like
other Moslems) until they had made a pilgrim-
age to Mecca. His bright blue eyes sparkled
with vigorous thought, and his countenance, al-
though o'ercast by a hue of deep, settled thought-
fulness, wore a genial sincerity of expression
which could not fail to inspire confidence.
Nevertlieless, Osmanli was enfranchised and
promoted without the usual ceremonies and re-
joicings. Mourad Bey sent him, with his yfVma/i,
or commission, a gorgeous suit of chain armor,
on whose bright steel links were enamelled qaaint
devices in virgin gold. His old protector, whose
cheek flushed with proud delight as be gazed on
the chivalric form of his once deprecated pur-
chase, sent him a fleet Arabian courser, and his
comrades, who loved and respected him, joined
their scanty funds for the purchase of a scimitar
with which a spider-web or a steel casque could
be severed — so keen and yet so staunch was its
wavy blade. Yet, there was no solemn investi-
ture of arms in the mosque. No mimic warfare
honored the admission of the favored recruit.
The kiosk of the Bey did not, as was ilie custom,
resound with warlike songs, nor did the warriors,
as they enjoyed their pipes and coffee, witness
the voluptuous dance of the Almeh girls, to the
music of the tambour and the castanets. More
serious matters occupied the thoughts of all.
Strangers had invaded the land ! A messen-
ger from Alexandria had brought word, about a
fortnight previous, that a squadron had cast an-
chor in the bay of that city. The next day, tid-
ings came that an army, landing on the beach,
had soon effected an entrance through the ruin-
ous city walls, and were occupying the once
proud capital of Cleopatra.
To the Mamelukes, who regarded themselves
as invincible lords of the Nile valley, this intelli-
gence seemed at first incredible. But it was
soon confirmed, and their surprise was converted
into rage when they received copies of procla-
mations, conciliating the harmless Egyptians by
flattering their animosity against their warlike
desi)Ots. " Know ye faithful," said one of these
addresses, " that the French, who have destroyed
the vassal power, are the allies of the Sultan and
the enemies of his enemies. They come not to
wage war against true Mussulmen, but against
revolting despots. Thrice happy shall they be
who assist us — blest in their fortune and inheri-
tance : but woe to all who arm in defence of the
Mamelukes, and fight against us. For them
there is neitlicr recompense nor hope. It is de-
creed, that they shall perish." And to all these
proclamations there was signed " Bonaparte."
No learned .«Iicik at Cairo had ev(!r heard of that
name among those distinguished by hereditary
rank in ICurope. But the Italian [irofewwor who
had instructed the cadets, told tliem it was a
Corsican soldier, who had carved with his good
sword a proud reputation, and wlio had con-
quered the land of the Caisars.
Housed, and aware that it was acontest of ex-
termination, on one side or the other, the Mame-
lukes nerved themselves for the conflict with that
ferocious spirit tliat prompts the lioness to stand
at bay, when the hunters invade her den. Learn-
ing that the French were advancing up the river,
Mourad Bey resolved to make a desperate stand
at his head-(|uarters, where, if he conquered, he
cduld annihilate his surviving opponents crc
they could retreat to the seashore. Here all his
forces were concentrated, and many a warlike
tribe of Arabs came in from the shores of the
Red Sea, proud to fight witli the Mamelukes,
and eager to aid in extirpating the unbeliev-
ing dogs that sought to extend their dominion
over the faithful followers of Mahomet. The
sacred green banner was unfurled before Mou-
rad Bey's kiosk, defended by a small battery,
while on either side were entrenchments, reach-
ing on the one hand to the river bank, and on
■the other to the very foundations of the great
Pyramid.
"On the vast plain in front of this line of forti-
fications, the Moslem host arrayed itself, on the
morning of July 2Ist, 1798, for the decisive com-
bat. The Mamelukes, arrayed in light yet
highly tempered armor, and bearing the choicest
weapons manufactured at Damascus, appeared
invincible. Arabs, mounted on their desert
steeds, moved in bodies like clouds of dustbefore
the north wind, and hordes of Nubians, armed
with spears and shields, sang their discordant
war-songs. It was a gallant host, well calculated
to inspire the hearts of its leader with high hopes,
and to make him certain of victory over the
comparatively feeble columns of the French
troops just coming in sight, winding, like ana-
condas, over the sandy plain.
The sounds of the Tartar drums and the clang-
ing cymbals, the neighing of the horses and the
clash of arms, had attracted all the inmates of
the kiosk, with a solitary exception, to places
where they could gaze upon the proud array of
the champions of their faith. But the inmate of
one richly furnished saloon (the latticed windows
of which denoted that it was a portion of the
king's harem) knelt in prayer, unconscious of
the animated scene without. Her strongly marked
countenance had the olive tinge peculiar to the
Jewish race, but her complexion was neverthe-
less clear and transparent. Long, silken eye-
lashes, over-arched by thick raven brows, added
to the lustre of her full, clear orbs, which shone
through her tears as the sun beams through an
April cloud. Golden coins were strung on the
braids of her long, jetty tresses, and on the top
of her classically shaped he.ad was a scarlet cap,
trimmed with gold and gems. A tight fitting
yellow silk tunic was disclosed by an open, gold-
embroidered crimson velvet jacket, in the fur-
lined sleeves of which nestled arms like alabaster.
And bound around the delicate waist, was a
valuable cashmere scaif, which served as a girdle
to sustain flowing yellow silk trowsers, gathered
at the ankles, where their heavy folds disclosed
tiny bare feet, partially encased in richly wrought
slippers.
Judith Fezenzac, for sueh was the maiden's
name, was the only child of a wealthy Jewish
merchant at Smyrna, who had sent her to Eu-
rope to receive a thorough education. She em-
barked for Genoa in an Italian felucca, but was
captured by an Egyptian corsair, and exposed
for sale in the slave-market at Alexandria. Her
charms attracted the attention of the Nubian
purveyor for the Bey's harem, who immediately
purchased her, and sent her to his mastei-. But
while on her passage up the Nile, a messenger
passed on the bank with news of the French in-
vasion, and when she arrived at Cairo, Mourad,
intent on defending his power, did not even care
to glance at the new exotic brouglit to grace his
seraglio. Meanwhile Judith suft'ered the agony
of suspense, and the fear of a degradation worse
than death, with a firm reliance that the God of
Israel, of Isaac, and of Jacob, would succor her
in the hour of need.
And now, unacquainted with the cause of the
warlike preparations without, and uninterested
by the martial display, she poured forth her soul
in prayer. A captive, she supplicated the God
of her fathers for deliverance, even as he deliv-
ered them, when, centuries before, they were in
bondage on the same soil. Acknowledging his
mighty power, that gnideth the hosts ot heaven
in their glory, and yet protects the sparrow's
tender brood, she prayed that he might stretch
forth his riglit arm, and release her from the op-
pressor. Then, with a rich, sonorous voice, she
began to oliant a psalm of David, each note
Kijurkling in its outward gush, with the clearness
and I)rilli:An(y of the diamond.
The door was opened wuddcnly, and Judith,
springing to her feet, instinctively carried her
riglit hand to the folds of her girdle. A dagger
was there concealed, which she had found in her
room at Alexandria, and she had so nerved her
heart, that she felt ready to sacrifice her life,
rather than to suffer dishonor.
Osmanli, for he was the intruder^ entered the
room, his prepossessing exterior set off by bis
gorgeous suit of flexible chain armor. Judith
gazed at him for an instant with an expresnion
of anxiety and doubt, but the kindness stamped
upon his open countenance apparently relieved
her fears. Crossing her alabaster arms upon
her throbbing chest, she bowed reverentially, and
then cast an imploring glance of resignation.
" Is it the daughter of Mordecai F''ezenzac ?"
he inquired, in a rich, musical voice, and in pure
French,
" I am that old man's child," was the reply,
in the same tongue.
"Allah be praised ! Latelastnightlreceived
from Alexandria a sign and a token that you —
the child of a brother — were here in bondage.
Luckily, the Bey has taken his seraglio guard to
the lines, and I, lingering behind, have managed
to enter the sacred spot without being observed.
Every one is without, or upon the terraced roof,
and now, gentle maiden, escape from the nest
ere the eagle returns."
" The God of Israel be praised !" ejaculated
Judith.
Then, her woman's heart dictated prudence,
and she asked :
" Where will you take me V
As she put the question, in a tone which im-
plied doubt, Osmanli noticed a ring of quaint
device on one of her taper fingers. Hastily strip-
ping up the sleeve of his coat of mail, and baring
bis left arm, he showed her a peculiar emblem,
indelibly marked.
" See," said he *' the same emblem that is
wrought upon your ring. Your fatiicr, although
I know him not, is my brother, and I am bound
to protect you."
Judith's eyes flashed with joyful confidence,
and she replied in a gladsome tone :
"I have often seen that mystical sign, and
never have I known it associated with evil.
Command, and I will obey."
" Hasten, then," said the Mameluke, " and I
will place you in a safe retreat, once used as a
refuge by the priests of Isis."
Putting on a large mantle, and throwing a
thick veil over her head, Judith intimated that
she was ready, and they left the kiotk. Hastily
traversing the garden, they reached a ruined
pile, on the north side of which Osmanli
pushed against a large stone. To the great as-
tonishmLUt of Judith, it revolved, and she was
ushered into an obscure passage. Closing the
massive door behind them, and then opening
another, equally hidden, Osmanli handed Judith
into a vaulted apartment, lighted from above.
It was well supplied with the conveniences of
life, and a table was covered with food.
"Here," he remarked, "I must leave you,
although I hope soon to return. Even if 1 do
not, another will see you restored to your father.
Farewell."
Before Judith could recover from her aston-
ish raent, her preserver was gone, and as the outer
door closed after him, the roar of artillery shook
tlie very earth.
CHAPTER II.
THE BATTLE.
Victory and glory. The ancient chivalry
of France, who followed the oriflamb under
Bayard and Duqueschir, were not more infatua-
ted in their pursuit of these martial phantoms,
than was every man of the French army in
Egypt, And now, as they saw the Mameluke
forces drawn up in hostile array, their brave
hearts echoed each defiant beat on their spirit-
stirring drums. On they moved, with erect
bearing, firm tramp, determined eye, and com-
pressed lip, eager for the hazards of adventurous
action, and submissive to the commands of their
adored leader, whose star had never paled upon
the field of battle. This fixed devotion, mani-
festo.! by shouts of "Long live Bonaparte."
gleasojV's pictorial dPvAwing R003I co:mpaniox.
275
flushed the young general's sallow face with en-
thusiasm, and he glanced with exultant pride
over his serried bands. His perception quick-
ened, and his iron nerves strengthened, as he
rode through tlie ranks of the dittcrent brigades,
stimulating his well-tried veterans. " Consider,"
said lie, pointing to the Pyramids, " that from
the summits of yonder monuments, forty centu-
ries survey your conduct. Act like heroes !"
Inspired by this matchless Idea, the Erencli
troops advanced at quick time to the attack,
formed into Jive large squares. When advanc-
ing, the sides of these squares marched " by the
flank," hut at the word " halt," all facsd out-
ward, and thus formed an impregnahl nedgc,
enclosing the artillery and the general officers.
Onward they moved, like so many torrents of
glistening bayonets, and waving plumes, and
flashing sabres, while over the midst of each
phalanx floated the brilliant tri colored flag, that
palladium of republican victory.
At length, raising their war-cry of " Allah-el-
AUah !" the Mamelukes came charging across
the plain, which resounded beneath the thunder
of their horses^ hoofs. Brilliant and valiant as
was the onset, it did not intimidate the French,
who received their assailants at the bayonet's
point, with a murderous fire. The sun, which
had glistened on the polished armS' and accou-
trements on both sides, was soon obscured by the
smoke which poured forth, in circling wreaths,
from cannon, muskets, and pistols, to hang in
heavy clouds over a deadly storm of uon hail
and leaden sleet. In vain did the Mamelukes
rush at full gallop against the French squares.
In vain did they wheel their Arabian steeds,
and endeavor to rein them backward through
the serried ranks of bristling bayonets. In vain,
when they grew frantic with despair, did they
Imrl their pistojs and their yataghans into the
faces of the French, or, when their horses were
shot down, crawl along the sand, to hack at the
limbs of their invincible foes. The calm, steady
discipline of the French was not to be shaken,
even by the war-bronzed childi-en of the desert.
Band after band, advancing in solid phalanx,
would recoil, staggering before the fiery dis-
charges, like some sturdy ship cast against break-
ers, but return again and again to the attack,
until the warriors, with their noble chargers,
sank like frail shallops cast upon a rocky coast.
Mourad Bey, his white charger covered with
foam and spotted with gore, was ever where the
flght raged hottest. One moment, he would
urge a squadron to advance, in the name of the
Prophet, and destroy the unbelievers — and when,
as was always the case, they fell back, he would
check their retreat, as if determined not to sub-
rait, but to seize victory from the averted hand
of destiny. Dauntless as an uncaged eagle, his
eye was clear, and his manner calm, even when
bullets hailed about him, but neither his example
nor die impetuous bravery of his followers could
make any impression against the French squares.
At this disastrous stage of the conflict, Mourad
determined to withdraw his forces up the river.
Calling an attendant spahi to his side, he or-
dered him to summon Osmanli, who had been
sent, at the head of the cadets able to bear arms,
to the extreme left.
"Allah is great!" replied the spahi, "but his
servant Osmanli is not at his post. I saw him
last in the kiosk of your highness, when you sent
mc with orders for the removal of the seraglio."
"In my kiosk? Where?"
"Leaving ihc harem by the garden gate."
" Coward '. Can it be possible ? But was he
alone ?"
"He was not, your highness."
At this moment the captain of the seraglio
guard rode up, and announced that the Bey'.s
wives and slaves had been sent up the river,
"All?" inquired Mourad, in a passionate
tone.
"All, your highness, save the Jewish slave,
who was sent up last \veek from Alexandria, and
who has never yet basked in the sunlight of your
favor."
"Traitor!" muttered Mourad, a spasm of
rage convulsing his noble features, for he well
remembered that Osmanli, that very morning,
had made particular inquiries about the Jewess.
They had undoubtedly escaped, and richly mer-
ited death, hut a new movement on the part of
the French left him no time for thoughts of jeal-
ous revenge.
Bonaparte, seeing that the enemy was thinned
and dispirited, had given the order to charge,
and Mourad, maddened with rage and mortifi-
cation, saw his followers precipitately retreating.
Panic-struck and disorganized, the Mamelukes
sought to escape before the billow of steel which
now swept across the plain, with murderous im-
petuosity. There remained behind a sea of blood
and slaughter, on which drifted standards and
arms, and which was agitated with the convul-
sive, death-like gasp of the unstiUed waves after
an ocean-tempest.
Osmanli had not participated in the contest,
for he had felt it his duty to inform a brother of
the " mystic tie" where Judith was concealed.
When, at last, he reached the spot where he had
been posted, he found nothing but the corpses of
several comrades, mingled with those of their
opponents. But the survivors — both the pursued
and the pursuers — had moved on up the river,
and he lost no time in following them, guided
by the noise of the conflict. Hoping to force his
way through the French, and, to rejoin his leader,
he took a circuitous route, which led him through
a small village. A garden wall barred his pro-
gress, but his steed cleared it at a bound, and
the Mameluke found himself by the side of two
Frenchmen.
One of these, who wore a sergeant's uniform,
no sooner saw Osmanli suddenly appear, than
he took to his heels. But the other, who was
earnestly examining a map, evinced no fear. Of
a slight figure, and rather under the u?ual stature,
there was nevertheless a quiet consciousness of
power manifested in his appearance, nor did his
unadorned gray uniform detract the dignity of
his attitude, or dim the fire of his eye, as draw-
ing his slender uniform sword, he advanced to-
wards the intruder. A blow from the yataghan
of Osmanli shivered the feeble weapon into frag-
ments, yet its owner's lips blanched not, nor did
he display any fear. Again the Mameluke raised
his "r7ell-tempered blade, but at that moment his
defenceless antagonist, with a proud glance of
confident hope,made asimpie yetexpressivesign.
Osmanli's uplifted arm was aiTCSted, as if by
some mighty spell of enchantment. Sheathing
his weapon, he sprang to the earth, and extended
his hand in amity. It was grasped, and the two
men, who but a moment previous had been en-
gaged in deadly strife, now interchanged friendly
tokens, which assured them that their hearts
were linked by a " mystic tie."
Another moment, and with loud cries of " ven-
geance," a body of French grenadiers rushed
into the garden. But when they beheld the ob-
ject of their solicitude unscathed, there burst
from their throats a shout of " Long live Bona-
parte !" It was repeated along the whole French
line, and Osmanli now knew that his brother
was no less a personage than the leader of the
French forces.
"Flints and hammers," growled a veteran
sergeant major of grenadiers, upon whose coat
sleeves were a dozen badges of good service.
"Flints and hammers, my general, there just
came a sergeant to the front, at double-quick
time, crying that you were captured — perhaps
killed. Million bombs, we left the enemy to
take care of themselves, and came to the rescue.
You are unharmed — so much the better. But
why are you thus without an escort, and on
foot?"
" Thanks, thanks, my braves. My horse was
lamed by chance shot, and while my orderly
went to the rear for another, I ciime in here to
examine my map, that I might see where we
could drive these infuriated demons. As for
sergeant-major Sauterre — "
" Present !" said the veteran.
" Ay," continued Bonaparte, " ever present in
the hour of dangei-. And now, old grumbler,
look after my Mameluke friend here, and bring
him to me after evening parade."
"Flints and hammers! Have you made a
prisoner?"
" No ! I found a brother, and as such I vouch
for him."
The defiant look with which the veteran had
regarded Osmanli softened down into a credu-
lous expression, but his doubts were soon re-
moved.
"Brothers," said Osmanli, in good French,
"I have done my duty — can I not rejoin my
chieftain ?"
" Not now," replied Bonaparte. " You would
but rush into the very jaws of death. Besides, I
must borrow your horse. This evening, when
all is quiet, you can go if you wish. Till then,
good-by."
Mounting Osmanli's charger, Bonaparte gal-
loped to the front, where his presence animated
the French with renewed ardor. The Mame-
lukes, completely routed, fled at random, and
strove for individual preservation. Mourad Bey
was only saved by the strength and speed of his
horse, and in less than four hours after the first
shot was fired, his forces were dispersed, and his
entrenchments were occupied ''by the French.
The Mussulnien who had gazed upon the bloody
scene from the minarets and the lofty citadel of
Cairo, were so strongly impressed by the dread-
ful havoc made by the fiery phalanxes before
which Mourad's hitherto invincible legions had
quailed, that they named Bonaparte " El Sooltan
Keber," the " Sultan of Fire."
The bugles now sounded a " recall," and the
victorious troops were ordered to bivouac.
Camp fires were kindled, and the Pyramids soon
echoed back patriotic songs, the familiar notes
of which, rich with pleasing remembrances,
cheered the wounded in their ambulances, and
softened the pangs of many a dying veteran.
Then, again the drums beat to arms, and again
the long line was formed in martial array, a
simple " close up" filling all the death gaps. It
was the evening parade, and just as the red orb
of day sank into the molten sands of the desert,
Bonaparte rode along the line. His numerous
staff-oflicers were resplendent with gold lace and
rich embroidery, but the general wore the small
cocked hat, and the simple gray coat, in which
be first won his soldiers^ hearts, and which, in
their eyes, were associated with victory. After
the review, the troops were formed in a hollow
square, that Bonaparte, as was his wont, might
address them. He spoke, and such was the si-
lence in the ranks, that every file-closer heard his
clear voice.
" Soldiers !" he said. " I thank you from my
heart, for you have more than sustained your
reputation. Five years ago, the independence
of the French people was threatened; but the
capture of Toulon was the presage of ruin to
our enemies. A year afterwards you defeated
the Austrians at Dego. In the following year,
you were fighting upon the summits of the Alps.
Two years ago you were contending beneath the
walls of Mantua, and achieved the celebrated
victory of St. George. Last year, you were at
the sources of the Drave on your return from
Germany. Who would then have ventured to
predict, that to-day you should be on the banks
of the Nile, in the centre of the ancient continent ?
From the Britons, renowned in arts and com-
merce, to the ferocious Arab of the desert, you
fix the attention of mankind. Your destiny is
noble, because you are worthy of your achieve-
ments and of the reputation you have acquired.
You will die with honor like the unburied brave
around u<, whose names I shall have inscribed
on yonder Pyramid, or you will return to your
country, covered with laurels, and exciting the
admiration of all nations."
Enthusiastic shouts hailed this eloquent ha-
rangue, and the soldiers, leaving their ranks,
thronged around their idolized leader, who thus
won their affections. After the review, he estab-
lished his quarters in the kiosk of Mourad Bey,
and lost no time in sending for Osmanli. The
young Mameluke,confused by the startling events
of the day, and looking upon the chief mover as
little short of a divinity, was awe-struck as he
entered the general's presence. But Bonaparte,
with kind sympathy, soon made him feel that as
brothers they were equal, and then he asked
him to name some boon.
" For myself," said Osmanli, " I have nothing
to ask. I but performed my duty. I am in
your hands. Yet for another I ask protection.
A Jewish maiden, who is the daughter of a
brother, was yesterday a prisoner in the kiosk.
It was my good fortune to rescue her in the con-
fusion which preceded the combat, and she is
now concealed in yonder ruin. Deal with her,
mighty lord, as the child of our brother, who is
in peril."
Sauterre immediately received orders to accom-
pany Osmanli with a file of men, and escort Ju-
dith to the kiosk. Plour after hour, entombed
in the ruin, had she listened with anguish to the
noise of the battle, a thousand fears tormenting
her brain, and when Osmanli again entered the
tomb, she uttered a shriek of joy, and then sank
senseless.
" Million bombs," grumbled Sauterre. " She
doesn't know that our general has sent for her."
Recovering, and assured of protection, Judith
returned to the kiosk, and met with a kind re-
ception, Bonaparte assuring her that he would
soon restore her to her father. That night she
again occupied her splendid apartment in the
harem, witli a joyful sense of freedom from that
degradation which had before made its luxuries
hateful and its beauties odious.
CHAPTER HI.
ENGLISH JEALOtJST AROUSED.
The army commanded by General Bonaparte
had embarked with such secrecy, that when the
English government learned its departure, it had
not the slightest degree of the destination of the
hostile armament. Great, therefore, was the
excitement in London, when intelligence was
received by a trading vessel that the "conqueror
of Italy " had captured Malta, on his way to Al-
exandria. He was undoubtedly hcnt upon the
conquest of Egypt, " the tlieatre," to use his own
words, of "mighty empires, where all the great
revolutions of the earth had arisen, where mind
had its birth, and all religions their cradle, and
where six hundred millions of men still had a
dwelling-place." Moreover, it was affirmed that
through this land the ambitious young French-
man hoped to reach the British possessions in
India, and to found a new empire, extending
from the mouths of the Nile to the banks of
the Ganges. This idea, though vague and ex-
travagant, roused the British nation, which still
smarted from the loss of its American colonies,
and nothing was left undone that afforded the
slightest prospect of tliwarting Bonaparte's plans .
Large reinforcements were sent to Lord Nelson,
whose fleet had been seen by the French frigates,
as they sailed past Candia on their way to Alex-
andria, shrouded by a friendly haze — afactwhich
was highly annoying to the British tars. And
secret agents, well provided with gold, were de-
spatched to every accessible port on the Medi-
terranean.
Prominent among these agents was Colonel
Hudson Lowe, a young Englishman, who added
most of the frivolities and many of the crimes of
fashionable life to a malignant and treacherous
disposition. Detected when an ensign in an at-
tempt to cheat at the card-table, he only escaped
an ignominious dismissal from the British army
by accepting a commission in the " Mediterra-
nean regiment." TbiS' was. composed of rene-
gades, Corsicans, Italians and Spaniards; out-
casts of every degree and of every dye, from the
murderer to the debauchee, who sought refuge
under the English flag, and preferred the iron
severity of military discipline to the punishment
from which they had escaped. Admirably' fitted
to rule such desperadoes, young Lowe was rap-
idly promoted, and at the siege of Toulon, he
was promised his rank in one of the regular regi-
ments of infantiy, if he would hut kill or capture
Bonaparte, whose sudden appearance lent con-
quering vigor to the French forces. He was un-
successful. General O'Hara was as unsuccessful
as he had been when second in command to Lord
Cornwallis at Yorktown,in Virginia. Colonel
Lowe, thwarted in his hopes, vowed vengeance
against Napoleoa Bonaparte. England could
not have selected a more fitting tool, and the
commencement of his operations showed how
deeply he could plot and project.
" The Albatross," a noted smuggling cutter,
had been seized a few weeks previous, and con-
fiscated. Colonel Lowe saw her at Portsmouth,
and obtained her for his cruise, enlisting her for-
mer captain and crew, who were delighted to get
out of jail. Thoroughly sea-worthy, she was a
beautiful craft, with sharp bows, great beam,
bright copper, and a run clean as a racer's fet-
locks. Her lower masts were clean-scraped and
brightly varnished, sustaining taper topmasts
painted white, with many a mazy line of well
laid cordage. Her well cut canvass was as white
as the snowy foam at her bows when going be-
fore a stiff breeze ; nor was anything lacking —
fore-topmast staysail, jib, mainsail, upper kite,
studding-sails aloft and alow, ringtail — nothing
wanting. Nor did a more gallant craft ever
float.
Leaving England's chalky cliffs, the " Alba-
ti'oss" cleaved the waves like a wedge, and her
crew, overjoyed at receiving their liberty, worked
with alacrity and spirit. The tempestuous Bay
of Biscay was soon ti-aversed, the rocky citadel
of Gibraltar was passed, and the anchor was
dropped, after a quick run, in the pleasant har-
boi' of Ajaccio, the principal city in the island of
Corsica. Here, where Bonaparte was born, the
wily Englishman sought men who would execute
his schemes with zest, and felt certain that he
could find them. Beautiful as is the face of the
island, the happiness of its inhabitants is man-ed
by a horrible system of family feuds.
[to be continued.]
Misfortune does not always wait on Tice ;
Nor is success the constant guest of virtue.
Hazard.
276
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DUAWING U()i)M (HmPANION.
A SERIES OF INTERESTING SKETCHES AND SCENES IN CALIFORNIA.
BRIDGE ACROSS THE AMERICAN RIVER. AT LESLI&'s FERRY, GALIFORNK
CALIFORNIA SCENES.
We give to the readers of the Pictorial, on this and the opposite pase,
a series of interesting views illustrative of the characteristics and be-
longings of El Dorado. The tide of emigration seems to be but little
stayed ; death, privation and the numerous casualties that stare the ad-
venturous ixold-seekcr in the face, do not seem to prevent thousands
upon thousands from wending their way to tlie golden shores of the
Pacific. We liave become so entirely used to the stories of suddenly-
acquired foi'tunes, tliat the items whiclx at first seemed to us to be fabu-
lous arc now too well authenticated to be challenged. True there has
1 itely aiisen a rival to California, and one which seems to be a formid-
able one — we reft r to Australia, which has been finely illustrated in
th':!se pages— but the stream of emigration still sets to the westward,
t lough a few prefer to seek llieir fortunes in the South Pacific, in the
penal colony of Great Britain. The view above represents the fine
and substantial bridge across the American River at Leslie's Ferry.
It was commenced in the spring of 1851, and completed in the month
of September of the same year. It is the largest and most substantial
structure of the kind in California, being 620 feet in length, 25 feet in
width, and 30 feet
above low water
mark. It spans
the American Riv-
er about a mile
east of the city,
and over it pass
daily the Marys-
ville, Nevada and
Auburn stages. It
is on the grand
thoroughfare of
travel to all the
rich mining coun-
ties of Placer, Ne-
vada, Sierra and
the upper part of
Yuba. This bridge
was erected with a
view of withstand-
ing the severe
freshets of the
American River ;
and during the
great spring flood
of the present sca-
.^on, when nearly
eveiy other bridge
on the North,
South and Middle
Forks of this
stream were swept
away, itstood firm
and uninjured.
No pains or ex-
pense were spared
in rendering it an
elegant and taste-
ful structure, as
well ,as a strong
and durable one.
In every respect,
it will compare fa-
vorably in archi-
tectural beauty and finish with many in the Atlantic States,
where labor and materials are cheaper, and greater facilities af-
forded for building than in the youngest State. The tirst pic-
ture below is a characteristic and truthful one of a miner start-
ing off on a prospecting tour. He looks over his shoulder at
us with a self satisfied air, and strides oflf like a steam engine.
He is fully equipped, having all the tools necessary for making
a thorough examination of the ground whicli he designs to
prospect. From the discoveiy of the gold until the summer of
otherwiEC worthless, pays richly. The next picture wliich we
present speaks Ic^s of hope and cheerful i)romise tlian the one
to the left of the page. It is a view of ihe cemetery at Sacra-
mento. Tlie view is taken as it appears from an elevated point
on the road to Sutter. This cemetery was laid out in the fall
of 1850, and just before the dreadful cholera made its appear-
ance there. licfore that time,intei'ments were made on the up-
per part of J Sfreet, in the immediate vicinity of Sutter's Fort.
In fact, this ground had been the receptacle of bodies for a .ong
'i'^^z ^ A^Mmj^i'^'^
VIEW OF SACRAMENTO CEMETEBY.
MINER ON A PROSPECTING TOUB.
1849, a pnn find knife were th<? only tools the difrger would use.
With these he proceeded to some ledge overhanj^ing the moun-
tain current, and commenced chipping off loose pieces of slate
rock, thus working liis way into tlie crevices, where the glitter-
ing tumps lie. In the course of time, the arrivals became so
numerous, that other and more extensive diggings on the bars
and in the ravines were located on. The i-ocker then came into
use, and now, as the richest dirt has been overliauled and its
hidden wealth extracted, the "long torn " and sluice have been
substituted for the rocker ; and it is found that with these, dirt.
time prior to the discovery of the gold, as the dates upon the
tombstones show. It has since been .'^o far encro.ached upon by
the public road, that many of the graves are now daily troddeil
under foot by animals and foot passengers going on the Colonm
road. The present cemetery is on the highest ground in the
vicinity of the city, and commands an unobstrueted view of the
river, the coast range, the Sierra Nevada and the city itself.
Tlie hill is composed of sand, and every portion of it is fir
above high-water mark, which circumstance renders it a pecu-
liarly favorable location for a cemetery. The friends and rela-
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
277
A NATIVE INDIAN CHIEF.
tives of many of the deceased buried in these
f:i-oinids, liavc exhibited their love and lenicni-
hrauiu for tiic deparicd, by adorning and beauii-
fving their ^Taves, by the planlhig of shrubbery,
ami the erection of neat and substantial palin»i;s.
The prominent monument which appears in tlie
c'cnrrc of the view, was erected to the memory of
Mr. Woodland, one of the most efficient officers
and ef-teemcd citizens of Sacramento. He was
sliot while discharging his duties as a civil mag-
istrate during tlic disgraceful Squatter riots.
During the prevalence of the cholera, the city of
tJie living emptied a great portion of its popula-
INDIAN SQUAW AND CHILDREN.
tion into the city of the dead, until there were
scarcely enough left who could he found williii<j
to nurse the sick, or convey the dead to their
long home. It is computed that this awful
scourge swept off at least one thousand of the
residents of Sacramento and vicinity. The city,
however, has, since the disappearance of that
terrible disease, enjoyed an immunity from sick-
ness which ranks it among tlie most healthful
towns of the continent. Our next view is that
of a native Indian chief. Since the whites have
so completely overrun the country, his occupa-
tion may be said to be gone indeed. He still
bears himself bravely, however, siill feels actu-
ated by the native hre of liis race ; but the white
man is too powerful, too cunning for him, and
he must submit to the force of circumstances.
The next pictm-c below is that of an Indian
squaw and her children, representing the man-
ner in which they arc accustomed to carry their
children about until they are old enough to
walk. The women are bright and intelligent,
and are Hnely formed In every limb ; the children
are entirely nude, and naturally merry and
healthy. The third picture, in the centre of the
page, represents a California senorita, whose
contact or intercourse with the whites has taught
her to dress somewhat better than the less civil-
ized of her people, and also we fear has taught
her as well, many of the vices of the whites.
She is smoking her cigar with unmistakeable
satisfaction and perfect complacency. The next
picture to the top and right of the page is that of
a California vaquero, or hunter. He is more
fond of the lasso than gold-digging, and is half
Indian, half Spaniard. As a horseman, he has
no superiors, and it is mounted that he operates
with such sure effect against the wild animals.
The sport of " lassoing" wild bulls and other
cattle is highly exciting, and one of which all
Spanish Americans are passionately fond. To
catch the animal by his horns or neck requires
much skill, yet to seize him with certainty by
the leg, when at the top of his speed, requires
greater practice and dexterity. The " reata " is
made of braided thongs, cut out of green hide.
Its end is wound round the knob of the. saddle,
and before thrown, is swung repeatedly round
the head, to give it the greatest force and preci-
sion of aim. The horses are taught to lean
back when checked, so as to resist the shock,
and keep the "reata" tightly drawn after the
animal is overthrown. The last picture repre-
sents a Chinese gold liunter. Tlie pioneer Ce-
lestial miners made their appearance in the
mountain gorges and on the river bars of Cali-
fornia early in 1849, and ever since that time
they have been steadily increasing in numbers
until they have now overrun the whole mining
country. They are industrious, frugal, peaceable
and temperate; and ai'C willing to take up aban-
doned chiinis. They
are generally quite in-
offensive, and as they
molest no one are not
looked upon as intru-
ders.— While upon
this theme we are led
to recall the wonder-
ful incentive that has
peopled California
in an incrcdiblj'
short period of time
with so dense a pop-
ulation— gold, gold.
A few words relative
to this metal geolog-
ically considered,
will be perhaps in-
teresting to tlic read-
er. Gold is the only
metal which has a
yellow color — aciiar-
acter by which it is
at once di-tinguir.hcd
from all other timplc
metallic bodies. It
is the most malleable
of the metals. It is
exceedingly soft and
flexible, but its te-
nacity is sufficiently
great to sustain, in
a wire one tenth of
an inch in diameter, 500 pounds weight without
breaking. It^ specitic gravity is 19.3. In hard-
ness it is above lead and tin, but inferior to iron,
copper, platina and silver. Its lustre does not
equal that of steel, platina or silver, but it sur-
passes the other metals in this respect. It may
be exposed for any length of time to the atmos-
phere, without sufferint; the least change. It is
also equally unalterable in the common tire; but
on being exposed to powerful burning mirrors,
or to the heat of the oxy-hydrogcn blowpipe, it
melts, and even rises in vapor. Gold is not oxi-
dized or dissolved by any of the pure acids. Its
only solvents are chlorine and nitro-muriatic
acid; and, according to Sir Humphrey Davy,
the chlorine is the agent in both cases, since the
uitro-muriatic acid docs not dissolve gold, ex-
cept when it gives rise to the formation of chlo-
rine. It is to be infen'ed, therefore, that the
chlorine unites directly with the gold, and that
the compound formed is a chloride of gold.
There is no inconvenience, however, in regard-
ing it as a muriate; since re-agents act upon it
as if it were such. The gold is precipitated
from its solvent by a great number of substances.
Lime and magnesia precipitate it in the form of
a yellowish powder. Alkalies exhibit the same
appearance ; but an excess of alkali re-dissolves
the precipitate. The precipitate of gold obtain-
ed by a fixed alkali, appears to be a true oxide,
and is soluble in the sulphuric, nitric and muri-
atic acids ; from which, however, it separates by
standing. Gallic acid precipitates gold of a red-
dish color, and very soluble in nitric acid, to
which it communicates a fine blue color. Am-
monia precipitates the solution of gold much
more readily than fixed alkalies. This precipi-
tate, which is of a yellowish brown color, pos-
sesses the property of detonating with a very
considerable noise, when greatly heated. It is
known by the name of fulmimtjnfj f/okl. Most
metallic substances precipitate gold from its so-
lurion in nitro muriatic acid. Lead, iron and
silver precipitate it of a deep and dull purple
color ; copper and iron throw it down in its me-
tallic state. A plate of tin immersed in a solu-
tion of gold, aftbrds a purple powder, called the
A GALIFORNtA SENORITA,
purple powder of Cassius, which is used to paint
in enamel. Ether, naphtha and essential oils
take gold from its solvent, and form liquors,
which have been called potable gold. The gold
which is precipitated on the evaporation of these
fluids, or by the addition of sulphate of iron to
the solution of gold, is of the utmost purity.
The principal use of gold, as is well known, is
in coinage. It has been with mankind, from
time immemorial, the representative sign of ev-
ery species of pi'operty. Even before the art of
coining was invented, it passed for money in the
condition in which it was found in the earth ;
and in this form it still enjoys a currency in
many parts of Africa. It is rarely employed in
a state of perfect purity, but is almost universally
alloyed with copper, or with silver, to increase
its hardness. The alloy of gold and silver is
found already formed in nature, and is that most
generally known. It is distinguishable from that
of copper, by possessing a paler yellow than pure
gold, while the copper alloy has a color border-
ing upon reddish yellow. A variety of means
are employed to judge of the quality of alloys,
supposed to consist in part, or principally, of
gold, without resorting to a regular analysis.
The most common of these consists in the use of
the touchstone. A mark is made upon t!ie stone
with the alloy, upon wdiich a drop of nitric acid
is placed by means of a feather; if the metallic
streak disappears, the alloy is destitute of gold;
if visible only in little points, at distant intervals,
it indicates a small proportion of this metal ;
whereas, if the continuity and density of the
mark remain unl)roken, it evinces that the piece
on trial is pure gold. This test is obviously
founded upon the property possessed by gold of
being insoluble in nitric acid, while silver, cop-
per, and their alloys, with zinc, are instantly
taken up by this solvent. It requires, however,
much practice to determine, with any consider-
able degree of precision, the amount of gold
present in alloys by means of this test. The
trial of specific gravity is another mode of ascer-
taining the proportion of gold in alloys ; and it
was in this manner tiiat Archimedes detected
the amount of silver
in a crown which
was to have been
made of pure gold
for Hiero, king of
Syracuse. But this
method only gives
approximations,
since certain alloys
are more, and others
less dense, than the
mean density of the
metals which com-
pose them. In the
coining of gold,
where it is necessary
to he assured of the
purity of the metal,
the trials just men-
tioned are never
adopted. If the gold
to be made use of
appears to contain
copper — which is in-
ferred from its red-
dish tinge — it is
made to undergo cu-
pellation with a giv-
en quantity of pure
lead; by which
means the copper
quits its union with
the gold, and unites
with the lead, leaving the former by itself, and,
in this way, the proportion of gold in the alloy
is ascertained. If silver is presumed to be the
alloying metal, the operation consists in melting
the alloy with three times its weight of silver,
rolling the compound into thin sheets, forming
these into coils, and plunging them into nitric
acid, slightly diluted : the silver is
promptly dissolved, while the gold re-
mains unaffected. Boyle has observed
that a grain of gold, reduced to leaves,
will cover a sniface of fifty square inch-
es ; that each one of these square inches
may be divided into 46,G5G other little
squares, and that, of course, the entire
amount of surface derived from one
grain of gold is capable of being divided
into 2,322,800 parts, each of which is
visible to the naked eye. Native gold
exists in veins in primitive mountains,
but not in the greatest quantity in those
wliich arc esteemed, to be of the oldest,
formation. Its immediate gangue is
generally quartz ; and it is associated
with the ores of silver, sulphuret of iron,
lead, nickel, copper, etc. It is often so
minutely disseminated, that its pres-
ence is detected only by pounding and
washing the rocks in which it exists.
But native gold is more often found in
the sand of rivers, in valleys and plains,
into which it has been carried, from its
oritrinal repositories, in the shape of
larger or smaller, generally fiat pebbles,
mingled with quartz. The mountain of
Vorospatak, near Abrudbanya, in Tran-
sylvania, is a remarkable instance of a
rock impregnated throughout with a
small portion of gold. It has been ~
worked to a considerable extent since
the time of the Romans ; it consists of
greywacke and porphyry. In a similar
rock it is found in many places along the
chain of the Alps, and in the Schlangen-
berg in Siberia. But the greatest quan-
tity of gold is obtained from the alluvial
soils of several islands in the Indian
ocean, from the southern, middle and western
parts of Africa, and from Brazil, Mexico and
Peru. The sands of several European rivers,
also, as the Danube, the Rhine and the Rhone,
afford small quantities of gold; and, within a
few years, the rivers of California have been
found to yield abundantly of the precious metal.
The mines of North Carolina have furnished lu-
crative diggings, chiefly in the counties of Meck-
leuberg and Cabarras ; in the latter, a single
lump of gold was found weighing twenty-eight
pounds. The gold is not wholly obtained from
alluvion in these districts, but is occasionally
pursued in the quartz rock, wln<-h abounds with
A CALIFOENIAN VAQUERO.
cavities, often partly filled with decomposed iron
pyrites. Huinboldt estimates the average pro-
duct of gold per year of South America and
New Spain, at nearly ©11,000,000; while Eu-
rope furnishes annually about one twelfth this
amount, the greater part of which comes from
the mines of Huugaiy. The largest amount of
gold from Georgia and Carolina, coined in any
one year, has been about 8320,000. The metal-
lurgic treatment of the ores of gold, where the
gold is free, consists in submitting them to the
contact of mercury after they have been crushed
and rendered fine by washing. The levigated
ore and the mercury are agitated together, until
it is conceived that the amalgamation is perfect,
when the compound is exposed to a heat suffi-
ciently intense to volatilize the mercury, winch
is condensed, and recovered for successive opera-
tions. Wlien gold occurs intimately mingled,
with iron pyrites, the process differs from that
described above, only in that it is necessary to
roast the ore, in order to pulverize it sufficiently
to set it at liberty. Much more might be given
while on this subject, but our readers will find
abundant information in almost every work that
treats of the precious metals.
A CHINAMAN EN ItODTE FOR THE MINES.
278
GLEASON'S riCTOrJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloiison'H I'lctorinl.]
THE HOURS OF CHILDHOOD.
liy K. CUKTISS niNB, U. B. N.
The iiK-mory of our cliHdhood hours
TcniictouH clinss nround the heart,
Afi wrctLtliH of fnishly-gathi;rcil Howura
HefiiHc from hi.'auty'H brow to piirt;
TUou)^h ctiro itnd grief should rutiiluH9 seize,
And toiir the fmgrant leavps away,
As autumn strips tlie forest trccfl,
The hardy flowerets yot will stay.
Thoy Ktiiy to sront our wintry diiyH,
Wlirn aH on earth beside has fled ;
As oft the rose its form displays
Above the spot where reata the dead ;
And e'en amid the battle's din,
When swiftly bolts of vengeance fly,
As tovard some planet stooped in sin.
Wild meteors cleuTe the midnight sky —
The memory of our childhood's hours
Still lingers round to shield tin heart ;
When stem Misfortune frowning lowers,
And shakes on high his burnished dart ;
Like stniin that wakes us from our sleep,
When sweetly o'er ^'Eolian string
The midnight breezes softly creep.
It fans us with an angel's wlog.
[Written for Gleasou'a Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. VIII.
THE THKONE.
BY Dll. JEROME V. C. SMITH,
AUTHOR OP A "PILaEIMAOE TO EQTPT."
The A'ast enclosure of the Seraglio may be
entered from several points, but there is one
which actually gives name to the empire. A
lofty gateway, arched overhead with an Arabic
inscripEion, is called, by way of distinction, the
Porte, on account of its supeiior workmanship,
as well as from the circumstance that it gives
passage through a massive pavilion, towards the
harem, or the concealed. It is in a charming po-
sition, on a rise of land favorable for an impos-
ing effect.
Passing over an extensive parade lined with
sentry boxes and various accommodations for a
multitude of watchmen, porters and soldiers, I
am unable to recollect how many smaller arches
we passed under before arriving at a building
containing the imperial divan or throne. It is
on the first floor, not more than twenty feet
square, and accessible by two doors.
In one corner there is a dark, wooden box, of
the dimensions of an ordinary double bedstead.
It precisely fits against the wall on two sides;
at the lower corner, which, of course, juts out to-
wards the middle of the room, is a high post.
As a whole, this apparatus is like a bedstead
pushed into one corner, with one single post.
Overhead is the tester, supported in part on the
one post, and in other directions against the wall.
A singular taste, quite barbaric, is shown in
the manner of ornamenting that solitary pillar.
From top to bottom it is thickly covered with
precious stones and gems, of mimense value.
They are of all sizes and shapes, just as nature
allowed them to leave her workshop, without be-
ing ground, polished or symmetrically shapcn.
Metallic sockets of gold are sunk into the wood,
and into them the stones are set, saving their
best faces for the exterior show. I noticed that
several of them were empty. Whether the gems
had been taken out purposely, or had dropped
out, was not ascertained.
On that box, rieli cushions were thrown ; and
when an audience was to be given to an ambas-
sador, the Sultan being seated with a pipe in his
mouth, permitted an entrance, embarrassed with
fatiguing ceremonies.
The indignities the Sulians were in the habit
of heaping u))on the ministers of European king-
doms, till wiiliin the last fifiy years, were of the
most humilialing character. Being led in at one
door by the grand vizier and other ministers of
the divan, the envoy wad compelled to assume
the attitude of ahject obeisance, amountin"- al-
most to an appearance of adoration. The busi-
ness was announced, without raising his eyes
to the resplendent throne tliat bore ilic self styled
Shadow of God. An interpreter explained it in
Turkisli, when the Sultan, in the haughtiest tone
of sovereignty that a despot ever assumes, gave
a decision, and the humble mcssengerof a Cliris-
tian emperor was slowly backed out at the oppo-
site door.
Standing precisely where those degrading cere-
monies were conducted over and over again, it
appeared that not more than six personrf couUl
coniforlultly stand at the foot of the linonc, at
the same moment.
Singular as it now appears in this advanced
period of civilization, the Sultan often sent for-
eign legations to jirison. Acliillc dc Ilarlcy, in
1612, after being grossly insulted by Arlimet I,
was threatened with torture! In 1660, Sultan
Ibrahim actually sent a French amba8.sador to
the Seven Towers. It is my imprcs.sion that
the old state apartments in the Seraglio have
been neglected since Sultan Medjid's inaugura-
tion. An air of abandonment ^was perceptible
about the throne, that led to this conclusion.
In the new palace, which is now being com-
pleted on the Pera side of the Bosphorus, far su-
perior to most of the royal ])alaccs of Europe,
there arc undoubtedly some more modern apart-
ments for state ctfect and receptions, in accord-
ance with an improved taste, which must have
been imbibed fiom intercourse with foreigners,
who have introduced the arts and the architec-
tural refinements of modern times. The exterior
of the palace is extremely imposing, and far
transcends in beauty and grandeur every other
edifice in Constantinople. Some of the great
mosques arc massive, huge constructions, but
they command no admiration from a cultivated
mind, beyond that of astonishment that brick,
wood and stone should ever have assumed such
singular forms. To the credit of the improved
views of the Sultan, the new palace is not hidden
from human eyes by high walls. It is all open
in front towards the Bosphorus, with no obstacle
to conceal a single beauty, or mar one of its
classical proportions.
This is an immense stride in civilization,
therefore, that a costly palace, mainly designed
for the accommodation, security and seclusion
of females, should be left open for the gaze of
all eyes ; but it is one of the prognostics of a still
greater change that is gradually and irresistibly
coming over the whole nation.
A more frequent and necessary intercourse
with Europe and America, must have an influ-
ence on the habits, customs and peculiarities of
the people. Even Mahommedanism, with its
doctrines of fatalism and polygamy, whieli denies
one half of the population of countries professing
»hc faith of the Koran, all civil rights, is des-
tined to give way to a purer and more elevated
hope, based on the progressive march of Chris-
tianity.
METKOPOLITAN MOSQUES.
As no one can gain admission to the interior
of the Sultan's residence, while himself and fam-
ily are within, no account can be given of the
character of the furniture, the decorations, or, in
fact, gain any reliable information in regard to
them, beyond what may be gleaned from timid
servants, who run the risk of losing their head for
a piastre, whenever they divulge a secret.
I have seen many edifices erected at different
epochs in Turkish history, but that which was
occupied a little time by Mahmoud ]I, on the
Bosphorus, is the best of all. It is not far
north from the new one now constructing, and
is the present residence of Sultan Medjid. Some
of the pillars, of beautiful marble, fluted, the
splendid iron gates, superb lamps, rich displays
in the finish of the windows, doors, marble steps,
and various other outside shows of unlimited re-
sources, amply compensates the traveller for re-
connoitering it in a boat. We were told that
the Sultan, and perhaps the ladies of the harem,
were watching us closely, and speculating on
our long-tailed coats, and laughing at our high
hat crowns behind the latticed windows, while
we were contemplating the elegances of imperial
accommodaiions.
On the other hand, the mosques were opened
to us by the firman, and we therefore visited
those most remarkable for age, sanctity and
splendor.
St. Sophia is a monster in size. Constantine
the Great was excessively proud of it. He melt-
ed down a silver statue of Theodosius, that
weighed 7400 pounds, to complete the work.
Five years and eleven months were consumed in
the construction. The ground plot is a Greek
cross, in a square 243 feet by 269. An arched
dome, 180 feet aliove the floor, sustained on four
enormous arches, admits a strong light from
above. It did not strike me as beautiful, but
massive. No two arches in the building are seg-
ments of the same circle. Some of them in the
partitions, over doors, were singularly warped,
if they ever had any symmetry. There arc 184
pillars to sustain the weight inside. Eight of
them arc porphyry, excessively hard to cut, once
in the Temple of the Sun, at Home, and six of
green ja-;per, wrenched from the Temple of
Diana, at Ephcsus. Two of the porphyry col-
umns have been cracked and otherwise injured,
probably by a fire, that nearly destroyed the whole
fabric soon after its completion. They arc now
held together by strong iron hoops. One of the
arches sustaining tlic dome has settled consider-
ably, and I fear the vast skylight may sudekniy
fall in when least expected.
Of course, no idea is entertained of describing
St. Sophia with minuteness. A building that
has withstood the assaults of time since the third
century, is venerable, and that accounts for va-
rious admeasurements and historical accounts,
which abound in the diaries of Eastern travellers.
When wo entered, a Moslem priest wiis sitting
flat on the pulpit floor, cross-legged. That sen-
try box of the clergy was of white pine, ascended
by a considerably long flight of steps, and the
whole was moveable. In front of him sat an
attentive congregation of men and women, also
on the floor, the males one side, and the females
— all enveloped in white sheets and veiled, lis-
tening as though deeply interested in the dis-
course— on the other. St. Sophia being built
without reference to facing Mecca — it being orig-
inally a Christian Church — long strips of car-
peting were spread diagonally, producing a lu-
dicrous effect; but it was of grave importance to
the prayerful audience to know the exact bearing
of that holy city, in order to face it in their de-
votions.
When the expounder of the Koran had brought
his loud, earnest discourse to an end, he came
down with a small dish in his hand, which he
presented to the people for backsheish.
Thus he raised his salary as he rendered ser-
vice, and when he finished entirely, an idiotic
boy or girl — I could not decide which — made his
appearance in the passage way between the two
sexes, which the women, particularly, appeared
to enjoy exceedingly. He sang, and in some
very indefinable and mysterious manner, seemed
to fascinate them all, as they gathered round
and paid something to him, as an earnest of their
satisfaction. Overhead I could discern, distinct-
ly, some excellent paintings that the Turks had
endeavored to conceal, by daubing them over
with a thin coat. The great seraphim in the
angles, under the dome, have had sad work
made of their faces, to get rid of their fascina-
tions, but still they remain, without any pros-
pect of obliteration, smiling with lieavenly
sweetness.
It is a subject of historical interest with refer-
ence to the condition of the arts, and the actual
religious feeling of the age among Christians, to
present some of the following facts in relation to
this vast Christian edifice, now desecrated to
Moslem service.
St. Sophia was reared in the year 325, and
therefore is an ancient temple — the boast of the
Byzantine city. One hundred architects, says
tradition, superintended the work ; five thousand
masons were employed on one side, and an equal
number on the other. All the mortar was mixed
in barley water, and the foundation walls ce-
mented with mastic and lime. The walls had
reached but six feet, when it was ascertained
that 452 pounds weight of gold had been ex-
pended. Within, the length is 269 feet, and the
breadth 143. The great cupola is pierced by 24
windows. Arabic inscriptions are variously in-
troduced to raise up devotional feeling in the
breasts of the turbaned worshippers. Granite
columns from Egypt, twenty-four in all, eight of
green marble, besides quite a forest of all others,
baffle description.
Riches glittered in the temple at every point,
on the day of its first consecration. A golden
cupola with lilies, and a golden cross of massive
weight, adorned with costly gems, was but a
small part of the wealth within. Golden vessels
of all sorts for celebrating the twelve great an-
nual church feasts, were 42,600 in number.
Twenty-four huge volumes — the evangelists —
each having golden covers, and candclabras, also
of gold, two of which weighed 111 pounds, be-
sides seven crosses of pure gold, weighing one
hundred pounds each, gives an idea of tlie con-
centration of riches, and the resources of the
emperor at that early period in the progress of
Christianity. When the Mahommcdans took
possession of this very famous structure, they
speedily remodelled some parts of it, built up its
minarets and purged it of Christian uncleanness.
Murad the IVth put in the permanent pulpit, on
each side of which are two enormously large
candles, to light %\hich, the servant is obliged to
ascend on a ladder. In several mopques, they
are a foot in diameter, and from ten to fifteen feet
high.
Notwithstanding the glowing descriptions of
visitors, and the details of professed architects,
in connection wiijj all the historical associations
with which St. Sophia is connected, I did not
regard it as much of a wonder Perhaps a fa-
miliar acquaintance with the great ruins of
Egypt had a counteracting influence on my
mind. Had St. SojiJiia been seen first, perhaps
my astonishment might have been greater, and
more surprising. I fully expect that the dome
will by-and-by fall, and then the whole mass
will go lo ruin.
Of the so called twenty-four first class mosques,
a ^tiw hold a distinguished pre-eminence on ac-
count of their architecture, wealth, and the names
of those by whom they were erected. Among
some of those I visited belonging to that denom-
ination, the following is quite remarkable for its
beautiful proportions.
so LYMAN.
By way of eminence, this is called the Mosque
of Solyman, the Magnificent — whom the Turks
speak of as Kanuni, or institutor. He was con-
temporary with Henry VIII, Edward VI, and
Queens Mary and Elizabeth, having ascended
the throne in 1520 and leaving it in 15G6,
The mosejue was five years in building, and
bears a strong resemblance to St. Sophia. Pil-
lars, tiles, floors, windows, a magnificent dome,
and its various properties, conspire to make the
Solyman a proud monument of Turkish skill,
wealth and piety. Columns, arches, enormous
wax candles, ten feet tall, candclabras, etc., are
in keeping. The minarets are slender, but the
proportions admirably maintained. An unfor-
tunate carpenter sent up to repair one of them, a
few days before I examined them, pitched over
the slender railing, fell to the ground, and died
instantly.
When all the minarets are manned with muez-
zins, at the hours of prayer, calling with uniteel
voices for the faithful to commence their devo-
tions, the effect is extraordinary. Not a bell
ever rings, and the shrill voices of those ener-
getic servants, fifty feet in the air, who sing out
their commands in a recitative, is musically sol-
emn. At Cairo — very compact, compared with
Constantinople — four hundred lubberly bawling
fellows wake the hardest sleepers at morning call.
In Egypt the muezzins are blind, usually; and
men without eyes are preferred there, because
they cannot look down into the yards and see
what the females are doing. In villages, through-
out Turkey, a similar precaution leads to the
employment of the blind for that important func-
tion. They did not appear to be blind in the
capital, as far as I observed. They were pretty
warmly dressed, advanced to middle life, and
held their hands as though they were afraid of
having the drums of their ears cracked with their
own voices.
[See engraving of Muezzin calling to Prayers, page 288.]
Two of the four pillars which sustain the great;
dome, were once devoted lo another purpose, in
the ancient history of the city. One of them
bore the statue of Venus, and the other that cf
Justinian, on the Augustean. It is supposed
that the others had originally upon them the
statues of Theodora and Eudoxia.
Reading-stands for holding copies of the Ko-
ran are occasionally noticed, like the letter X,
made of two pieces of board, from a foot to two
in width, variously inlaid with pearl and other
precious things, according to the place and cir-
cumstances of its location. Devout readers,
writers, and indeed every person, high or low,
who has anything to do with pens or books, sits
on the floor. When reading the Koran, it is
rarely taken from the stool — the reader turning
the leaves as they are completed.
Whenever I have seen a man reading in the
mosques, it was generally near some window, in
a corner. Without the least regard to the com-
fort of others, they kept a continual see sawing,
while their voices were raised to an annoying
pitch to every one within hearing.
In rooms over the vaults of the Sultans and
their families, there are sarcophagi — wooden
boxes, raised three and four feet, directly over the
graves of each, covered usually with cashmcio
shawls — a rich turban at the head indicating the
sex and condition of the person beneath. Im-
mensel" large canellcs in candlesticks chained lo
the floor and numerous copies of the Koran aio
resting on saw-horse stools, for the accommoda-
tion of all good Mussulmcn visitors.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
279
[Written for Gleason's Pictoriiil.]
FAREWELL.
BY MBS. n. MARION STEPHENS.
Farewell '. farewell for aye !
Not when my heart is aching 'neath the weight
Of utter loneliness— not when the knell
Of dying hope comes with its bitter freight
Of wordless agony and woe, to tell
How giimt pnEsiODS, kindled into life,
Have drooped and perished 'neath the world's cold strife ;
Not in such scenes of tumult and unrest,
Shall thoughts of thee commingle in my breast.
But when forgetfulness her watch shall keep.
With folded wiog, by pas.sioQ's turbid shore ;
When o'er my heart sweet memories come like sleep,
And the soul dreams its strife is haply o'er.
Then shall the past gleam out a ray of light I
A fairy isle on life's tumultuous sea!
Like stars that lit the wasting soul's dark night,
Shall be the memories that still cling to thee.
Farewell I farewell for aye I
Those memories now are twining round my heart,
Binding its pulses with a mighty spell ;
TelUng how hard a thing it is to part
From the dear treasure it has loved so well,
Tet must we part ! I may perchance, forget
The summer friends who need not my regret ;
I may be heedless of their onward lot,
But thou, ah, thou canst never be forgot I
Farewell! the last farewell!
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE GREEN CnAMBER:
— OK —
THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR.
BY FRANCIS A. DORIVAGE.
In my younger days, " ghost stories " were the
most popular narratives extant, and the lady or
gentleman wlio could recite the most thrilling
adventure, involving a genuine spiritual visitant,
was sure to be the lion or lioness of tlie evening
party he enUveacd {1) with the dismal details.
The elder auditors never seemed particularly
horrified or terror stricken, however much grati-
fied they were, but the younger members would
drink in every word, "supping full of horrors."
After listening to one of these authentic narra-
tives, we used to be very reluctant to retire to
our dormitories, and never ventured to get into
bed till we had examined suspicious looking
closets, old wardrobes, and, indeed, every nook
and comer that might be supposed to harbor a
ghost or a ghoul.
Fortunately for the rising generation, tlicse
tales have gone out of fashion, and though some
attempts to revive the taste have been made — as
in the '' Night Side of Nature " — .such efforts have
proved deplorable failures. The young people
of to day make light of ghosts. The spectres in
the incantation scene of "Der Frcyschutz " arc
received with roars of laughter, and even the
statue in Don Giovanni seems "jolly," nothwith-
standing t!ic illusive music of Mozart. We were
about to remark that the age had outgrown su-
perstition, but we remembered the Rochester
knorkings, and concluded to be modestly silent.
One evening, many years since, it was a blus-
tering December evening, llie wind howling as it
dashed the old buttonwood limbs in its fury
against the parlor windows of the country house
where a few of us were assembled to pass the
winter holidays, we gathered before a roaring
tire of walnut and oak, which made everything
within doors as cheery and comfortable, as all
without was desolate and drear}-. The window
shutters were left unfastened, that the bright
lamplight and ruddy firelight might stream afar
upon the wintry waste, and perhaps guide some
benighted wayfarer to a hospitable shelter.
We shall not attempt to describe the group,
as an}' such portrait painting would not be ger-
mane to the mutter more immediately in hand.
SulHce it to say, that one of the youngitcrs beg-
ged Aunt Deborah, the matron of the mansion,
to tell us a ghost story — "a real ghost story.
Aunt Deborah " — for in those days wc were ter-
ribly afraid of countevfcits, and hated to hear a
narrative where the ghost turned out in the end
to be no ghost after all, but a mere compound of
flesh and blood like ourselves.
Aunt Deborah smiled at our earnestness, and
tantalized our impatience by some of those little
arts, with wliich the praclised story-teller en-
hances the value and interest of her narrative.
She tapped her silver snuff-box, opened it delib-
erately, took a very delicate pinch of the Lundy
Foot, shut the box, replaced it in her pocket,
folded her hands before her, looked round a
minute on the expectant group and then began.
I shall despair of imparting to this cold pen
and ink record of her story the inimitable con-
versational gr?ice with which she embellished it.
It made an indelible impression on my memory,
and if I have never before repeated it, it was
from a lurking fear that — though the old lady
assured us it was " not to be found in any hook
or newspaper " — it might have found its way
into print. However, as twenty years have
elapsed, and I have never yet met with it in
type, I will venture to give the outlines of the
narrative.
Major Kupert Stanley, a "bold dragoon*' in
the service of his majesty Geoi-ge HI., found
himself, one dark and blustering night in au-
tumn, riding towards London on the old York
road. He had supped with a friend, who lived
at a village some distance off the road, and he
was unfamiliar with the country. Though not
raining, the air was damp, and the heavy, sur-
charged clouds tlireatened every moment to pom-
down their contents. But the major, though a
young man, was an old campaigner; and with a
warm cloak wrapped about him, and a good
horse under him, would have cared very little
for storm and darkness, had he felt sure of a
pood bed for liimself, and comfortable quarters
for his horse wlien he had ridden far enough for
the strength of his faithful animal. A good
horseman cares as much for the comfort of his
steed as for his own ease. To add to the dis-
comfort of the evening, there was some chance of
meeting highwaymen ; but Major Stanley fflt no
uneasiness on that score, as, just before leaving
his friend's house, he had examined his holster-
pistols, and freshly primed them. A brush with
a highwayman would enhance the romance of a
night journey.
So he jogged along; but mile after miic was
passed, and no twinkling light in the distance
gave notice of the appearance of the wished-for
inn. The major's horse began to give unmis-
takeable evidence of distress — stumbling once or
twice, and recovering himself with diiRculiy.
At last, a dim light suddenly ajjpcared at a turn
of the road. The horse pricked up his ears, and
trotted forward with spirit, soon halting beside a
one-story cottage. The major was dis.appointcd,
but he rode up to the door and rapped loudly
with the butt of his riding-whip. The summons
brought a sleepy cotter to the door.
" My good friend," said the major, " can you
tell me how far it is to the next inn V
"Eh! it be about zeven mile, zur," was tlie
answer, in the broad Yorkshire dialect of the
district.
"Seven miles!" exclaimed the major, in a
tone of deep disappointment, "and my horse is
already blo^vn ! My good fellow, can't you put
my horse somewhere, and give me a bed? I
will pay you liberally for your trouble."
"Eh! Goodness zakes !" said the rustic. "1
be nought but a ditcher ! There be noa plaze to
put the nag in, and there be only one room and
one bed in the cot."
"Wha-t shall I doV cried the major, at his
wit's end.
"I'll tell 'ee, zur," said the rustic, scratching
his head violently, as if to extract his ideas by
the roots. " There be a voine large house on
the road, about a moile vurther on. It's noa an
inn, but the colonel zees company vor the vun o'
the thing — 'cause he loikes to zee company about
'un. You must 'a heard ov bira — Colonel Rogers
— a' used to be a soger once."
" Say no more," cried the major. "I have
heard of this hospitable gentleman ; and his hav-
ing been in the army gives me a sure claim to
his attention. Here's a crown for your informa-
tion, my good friend. Come, Marlborough !"
Touching his steed with the spur, the major
rode off, feeling an exhilaration of spirits which
soon communicated itself to the horse. A shaq?
trot of a few minutes brought him to a large
mansion, which stood unfeiiced, like a huge ear-
avansery, by the roadside. He made for the
fi'ont door, and, without dismounting, plied the
large brass knocker till a servant in livery made
his appearance.
" Is your master up V asked the major.
" I am the occupant of this house," said a ven-
erable gentleman, making his appearance at the
hall door.
" I am a benighted traveller, sir," said the
major, touching his hat, "and come to claim
your well-known hospitiility. Can you give me
a bed for the night 'i 1 am afraid my four-footed
companion is hardly able to carry me to the next
inn."
"I cannot promise you a bed, sir," said the
host, "forlhave butonesparebcd in the house."
"And that?" — said the major.
" Happens to be in a room that does not enjoy
a very pleasing rcputatiou. In short, sir, one
room of my house U haunted ; and that is the
only one, unfortunately, that I can place at your
disposal to-night."
" My dear sir," said the major, springing from
his horse, and tossing the bridle to the servant,
"you enchant me beyond expression ! A haunt-
ed chamber ! The very thing— and I who have
never seen a ghost ! What luck !"
The host shook his head gravely.
" I never knew a man," he said, " to pass a
night in that chamber without regretting it."
Major Stanley laughed, as he took his pistols
from the holster-pipes. " With these friends of
mine," he said, "I fear neither ghost nor demon."
Colonel Rogers showed bis guest into a com-
fortable parlor, where a sea-coal fire was burning
cheerfully in a grate, and refreshments most
welcome to a weary traveller, stood upon a table.
" Mine host " was an old campaigner, and had
seen much service during the war of the Ameri-
can Revolution, and he was full of interesting
anecdotes and descriptions of adventures. But
while Major Stanley was apparently listening
attenti\'ely to the narrative of his hospitable en-
tertainer, throwing in the apjjropriate ejacula-
tions of surprise and pleasure at the proper in-
tervals, his whole attention was in reality ab-
sorbed by a charming girl of twenty, the daughter
of the colonel, wlio graced the table with her
presence. Never, he thought, had he seen so
beautiful, so modest and so ladydikc a creature ;
and she, in turn, seemed very favorably impress-
ed with the manly beauty and frank manners of
their military guest.
At length she retired. The colonel, who was
a three bottle man, and had found a listener to
his heart, was somewhat inclined to prolong the
session into the small hours of the morning, but
finding that his guest was much fatiguel, and
even beginning to nod in the midst of his choicest
story, he felt compelled to ask him if be would
not like to retire. Major Stanley replied prompt-
ly in the affirmative, and the old gentleman,
taking up a silver candlestick, ceremoniously
marshalled his guest to a large old-fashioned
room, the walls of whiuh being papered with
green, gave it its appellation of the "green
chamber." A corafortaide bed invited to repose ;
a cheerful fii-e was blazing on the hearth, and
everything was cosey and quiet. The major
looked round him with a smile of satisfaction.
*• I am deeply uidcbted to you, colonel," said
he, " for affording me such comfortable quarters.
I shall sleep like a top."
"I am afraid not," answered the colonel, shak-
ing his head gravely. " I never knew a guest of
mine to pass a quiet night in the Green Chamber."
"I shall prove an exception," said the major,
smihng. "But I must make one remark," he
added, seriously. " It is ill sporting with the
feelings of a soldier ; and should any of your
servants attempt to play tricks upon me, ihcy
will have occasion to repent it." And ho laid
his heavy pistol on the lightstand by his bedside.
" My servants. Major Stanley," said the old
gentleman, with an air of offended dignity, " are
too well drilled to dare attempt any tricks upon
my guests. Good night, major."
" Good-night, colonel."
The door closed. Major Stanley locked it.
Having done so, he took a survey of the apart-
ment. Be^ides the door opening into the entry,
there was another leading to some other room.
There was no lock upon this second door, but a
heavy table placed across, completely barri-
caded it.
" I am safe," thought the major, " unless there
is a storming party of ghosts to attack me in my
fastness. I think I shall sleep well."
He threw himself into an arm chair before the
fire, and watching the glowing embers, amused
himself with building castles in the air, and mus-
ing on the attractions of the fair Julia, his host's
daughter. He was fiir enuugh from thinking of
spectral visitants, when a very slight noise struck
on his esr. Glancing in the direction of the
inner door, he thought he saw the heavy table
glide backwards fi-om its place. Quick as
thought, he caught up a pistol, and challenged
the intruder. There was no reply — but the door
continued to open and the table to slide back.
At last there glided into the room a tall, graceful
figure, robed in white. At the first glance, the
biood curdled in the major's veins; at the sec-
ond, he recognized the daughter of his host. Her
eyes were wide open, and she advanced with an
assured step, but it was very evident she was
asleep. Here was the mystery of the Green
Chamber solved at once. The young girl walked
to the fire-place and seated herself in the arm-
chair from which the soldier had just risen.
His first impulse was to vacate the room, and go
directly and alarm the colonel. But, in the first
place he knew not what apartment his host oc-
cupied, and in the second, curiosity prompted
him to watch the denouement of this singular
scene. Julia raised her left hand, and gazing
on a beautiful ring that adorned one of her white
and taper fingers, pressed it repeatedly to her
lips. She then sank into an attitude of repose,
her arms drooping listlessly by her sides.
The major approached her, and stole the ring
from her finger. His action disturbed but did
not awaken her. She seemed to miss the ring,
however, and, after groping hopelessly for ir,
rose and glided through the doorway as silently
as she had entered. Siie had no sooner retired,
than the major replaced the table, and drawing
a heavy clothes-press against it, efieetually guard-
ed himself against a second intrusion.
This done, he threw himself upon the bed, and
slept soundly till a late hour of the morning.
When he awoke, he sprang out of bed, and ran
to the window. Every trace of the storm hal
passed away, and an unclouded sun was shining
on the radiant landscape. After performing tlie
duties of his toilet, he was summoned to break-
fast, where he met the colonel and his daughter.
" Well, major, — and how did you pass the
night?" asked the colonel, anxiously.
" Famously," replied Stanley. " I slept like
a top, as I told yon I should."
" Then, thank Heaven, the spell is broken at
last," said the colonel, " and the White Phantom
has ceased to haunt the Green Chamber."
"By no means," said the major, smiling, "the
White Phantom paid me a visit last night, and
left me a token of the honor."
" A token !" exclaimed the father and daugh-
ter, in a breath.
" Yes, my friends, and here it is." And the
major handed the ring to the old gentleman.
"What's the meaning of this, Julia?" ex-
claimed the colonel. " The ring I gave you last
week !"
Julia uttered a faint cry, and turned deadly
pale.
" The mystery is easily explained," said the
major. " The young lady is a sleep-walker.
She came into my room before I had retired,
utterly unconscious of her actions. I took the
ring from her hand that I might be able to con-
vince 3^ou and her of the reality of what I had
witnessed."
The major's business was not pressing, and he
readilj'- yielded to the colonel's urgent request to
pass a few days with him. Their mutual likiu
increased upon better acquaintance, and in a few
weeks the AVhite Phantom's ring, inscribed wit
the names of Rupert Stanley and Julia Rogers,
served as the sacred symbol of their union fur
life.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE AUTUMN TREES.
BY Or7EJf G. VTARREN.
I looked on a rainbow, it compaseed the west,
And on the broad primitiTe world found a rest ;
The earth, clad in foliage, with joy like a child,
Looked up on the beautiful viiiun and smiled.
The spirit of autumn came by on the breeze,
And shattered the bow, and it fell on the trees ;
Then the staid sober forest on every hillside,
Caught the fragments and wove them in garments of piide
The oak took the red, but with Tynan dye
Did the maple and sumach each other outvie ;
The butternut, proud of the jellow, took hold,
And wreathed round his form with the splendor of gold.
The plane sought in orange a tint warm and mellow,
And some took a brown hue, and others pale yellow ;
The purple, unwelcomed to forest or bower,
Took the shape of the iris, and dwelt in a flower.
The hemlock and cypress, the spruce and the pine,
Too gloomy to robe them in colors divine ;
Too fond of the clothes they all summer possessed,
Stood frowning and cold while the forest was dressed.
The blue, like the truth, found no favor below,
Each tree, in its pride, asked a ruddier glow ;
It huDg o'er the trees, through the calm autumn even,
Unclaimed and unwelcomed, then went back to heaven.
Happiness is the very light and snn of the
whole animated universe; and where she is nut,
it were better that noihing should be. Without
her, wisdom is but a shadow, virtue a name ; she
is their sovereign mistress; for her alone they
labor; to enjoy and to communicate her, is tlieir
eftbrt, and tbc con:ummatiou of thch- toil.
280
GLEASON'S nCTOrJAL DRAAVING llOOM (;031PA^'1()N.
VIEW OF THE STATE PKISON AND RAILROAD BUILDINGS, AUliURN, N. Y.
SCENES IN NEW YORK.
Not lonj2; since, our rearlers were presented
with sketches of Portage Falls, Owejio and Glen-
inary, in southern New York. We have now to
jjive interesting drawings and descriptions of a
place that illustrates ilie more mature condition
of central New York, and is a fair specimen of
the beauty and enterprise of this Ioniser settled
region. The city of Auburn, N. Y., with its
State Prison, new Female College, Theological
Seminary, and other institutions ; its manufac-
tories, book-trade, cemetery, and residences of
well-known public men ; and the points of pic-
turesque and other interest, in its vicinity — de-
serves a prominent place in our occasional
sketches of the Empire State. It is one of the
chain of six or seven large towns on the central
railroad from Albany to Buffalo, the name of
all which are familiar to the travelling public
throughout this country ; and it well maintains
the disrinclion of its English
original — " Auburn, the love-
liest village of tlie plain " —
altliough the " vaulting ambi-
tion " of the American bearer
of the name, has "o'erleapt
itself" so far as to sink from
a large village to a small city.
It has a population of some
ten thousand, and is the capi-
tal of Cayuga councy, than
which there is not a liner
grain region in all those cen-
tral districts of New York, so
long celebrated for
tiour." It is the
place of the size within our
personal observation, the no-
ble blocks of stores, and the
many public editices, remark-
able, in our land, for their
excellent taste and correct
architecture — nearly all being
composed of a light-blue lime-
stone, neatly dressed, and nev-
er losing its freshness of lint.
This stone abounds in the
vicinity, and is the ri^'al of
the Lockport limestone, wher-
ever, throughout the State,
there is water conveyance to
carry it. The Town Hall,
Court House, and several ho-
tels are very noteworthy struc-
tures, and six, among other
churches, are models in their
way. The Theological Sem-
inary, of the " New School "
Presbyterian body, is a larj;e
and imposing stone building,
with an average of fifty stu-
dents, who were under the
supervision of Dr. Hickok,
a very effective speaker, and
well known, among metaphy-
sicians, as the author of a
book on " Rational Psycliolo-
gy;" during Ihc last month
he mavmcd the "Vice Presi-
dent's chair of Union College,
and is understood to be (suc-
cessor of President Nott. Indc(d, Auburn is
the rendezvous of several religious denomina-
tions, and, at certain seasons, is quite animated
with convocations pertaining thereto. Here is a
depot of Rleibodist publications, and here the re-
nowned Mr. Maffit, now no more, a long time
sojourned, attracting much attention by his ora-
tory, and issuing a monthly magazine. Here,
too, is an active Universalist press, and a large
society of that persuasion, with a beautiful house
of worship, all in charge of Mr. Austin, who is
known as an author. And here, in common
with Rochester, were the first exciting scenes of
the " Spiritual Rappers," who not long since,
and perhaps still, piopa^atc their belief by peri-
odicals printed in these places. Above all. Au-
burn is becoming the Berlin of its State, more
j>ages of popular literature being annually pub-
lished there, than in any town of the State, out
of New Y^ork city. Many standard works are
constantly thrown off from its busy steam press-
es ; but the style of its issues is mainly the " ad
cajilandmn" — compilations, historical and other
sketches, together with school books. Messrs.
Derby and Miller, and Aldcn, Beardsley & Co.,
are the leading publishers. It is an encouraging
fact that books, with some show of usefulness,
often of real value, and not merely printed paper,
subserve the interest of these enterprising firms ;
and it is a significant fact, illustrating the west-
ward march of art, that they aie dependent on
no other place for any part of a book's manufac-
ture, nor do their richly bound volumes suffer by
comparison with those of any mctrojiolitan house.
So much for literary matters. Among the pri-
vate residences, inquired aficr by sight seers, is
that of ex-Gov. Seward — a large cream-colored
brick mansion, with a tower, a dense mass of
shade trees, and two iron lions at the gate, fierce
as the living ones tlmt frightened Bunyan's pil-
w I orK, so ^ !v ^ /
-superfine 3r ^\ ^ //
best built s Ap^ 1 2L.
VIEW OF FORT HILL OliMETFRY, AUBURN, N. Y.
grim from the precincts of the "House called
Beautiful." This is near the centre of the city,
in the neighborhood of which, also, is the resi-
dence of Mr. Morgan, late Secretary of New
York State. Another ex-governor — Mr. Throop,
until recently, lived two miles soulii of Auburn,
on the shore of Owasco Lake ; the house, an ex-
tensive and beautiful Italian villa, is plainly seen
in the middle-ground of our sketch of the foot of
the lake. The grounds have the happiest charm
of meadow, stream, fanciful bridges, soft masses
of willow, a lakeside grove, which is often made
free to large picnic gatherings, and a garden
which is particularly rich in varieties of roses.
In the horizon of our view may be faintly traced
the spires of the city. On the left of the picture,
across the lake, is the memorable scene of the
nmrder of a family by the negro Freeman, whose
trial, six years since, was, for several reasons, a
very " celebrated" one. The Owasco, a lovely
sheet of water, is from one to
three miles wide, and twplve
miles long, nor is it the hast
of the many larger lakes of
tlie region, since it has been
rendered classic by the poem,
" Elsinore," of an Aubumian,
now a Gotbamitc — Peter S.
Myers, Esq.. whose fictions,
.^uch as "The Last of the
Knickerbockers," have had a
success that is due to some-
thing more than the imprint
of the Harpers. On the west
t-ide of the Owasco, the favor-
ite drive of Auburn people —
a plank road extends the
length of the lake, winding
around with the curvature of
shore, and varied by woods,
picturesque clumps of syca
more,overhanging rocks, bays
and capes. Returning from
this road, the reader, curious
in the " homes and haunts"
of notabilities, will sec, near
the town, a very tall and spa-
cious slone bouse ; it is " Mel-
rose " — the home of Judge
Conklin, lately appointed min-
ister to Mexico, and father of
the accomplished authoress of
the same name. A little way
fiom " Melrose," you(omelo
the suburbs, and, looking
down into the deep gulf of
Owasco outlet, you discover
an immense and costly wood-
en factory. It is said to ex-
ceed in size and expensive
arrangements, any building
for the same purpose, in tlie
country. Passing this we en-
ter the main street, near the
aristocratic " West End " of
which, and already surround-
ed by the growing city, is
Fort Hill, a hi^ib woo<ied
ground, with remains of an
Indian fortification still visi-
hle. This tract of mount and
GLEASO^^'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
281
glen, overgrown with fine old
trees, seems to have been de-
signed by nature and reserved
by Providence, as a rural cem-
etery— a purpose to which it
has'bccn applied recently. A
sketch of its best finished por-
tion is piven in our enf^rav-
in;;. It has the peculiarity of
tuimes taken from well known
cemeteries for its principal
seciions, one bearing the name
of Mt. Auburn, another of
Greenwood, etc. An accurate
view is given on the preced-
ing page of the State Prison,
together with the buildings of
the Auburn and Syracuse
Railroad, and the U-.vasco
outlet, which passes through
the midst of the city, like the
river of Babylon, and is here
d.immed up to supply water
power for the Prison. The
t-entral part of this grand
range of edifices is occupied
by the superintendent, and is
piimaeled with a copper mili-
lafv figure, musket in liand,
uinl known as "copper John."
The wings are the dormito-
ries, or cells, of the convicts.
Behind these are many long
shops for tlie making of cut-
lery, carpets, clothes, cabinet
ware, combs, steam-engines,
etc., tlie labor of a certain
number of men for a term of
years being contracted ibr by
individuals outside, and the
products sold in warehouses
of the town. In the rear of
this busy enclosure is a gar-
den and burial ground, and
the whole area of the ct^tab-
lishment, amounting to some
twelve acres, is surrounded
by a massive stone wall, with
a railed walk onihetopfor
armed sentinels. The statis-
tics of this criminal institu-
tion are far more suggestive
and interesting than perhaps the majority of
readers imagim.- ; it is to be regretted that such
items are usually left buried in legislative docu-
menis. Nothing, for a long while, has thrown
us into a more curious reverie, than tlie last an-
nual report of the inspectors of Auburn Prison.
There are two other institutions of the kind in
New York State — one in Clinton county, where
the prisoners are largely engaged in quarrying
btonc; the other at Sing Sing, the only place
where female convicts are sent; the three num-
ber 1540 criminals. At Auburn there were, at
the time of the report, 732 convicts. These en-
joy a good library, a Sunday school, in which
the neighboring theological students engage
themselves, and a week-hour school, where, in
the year, 193 received instruction in English ru-
GLENHAVEN WATER CURE, SKANEATELES LAKE, N. Y.
diments ; 109 of these could not read. Of the
whole number, 468 had never any religious or
moral teaching ; 512 had never read the Bible ;
181 were orphans before sixteen years of age,
and 191 had then but one parent; 308 had, be-
fore sixteen, no home ; 517 were never trained
to any trade or calling, being all but 215 of the
whole; 185 were intoxicated in the act sentenced
for, and 371 were habitually intemperate. Of
the 1540 in all three prisons, 928 were under 30
years of age at the time of commitment. In the
year of the report before us, 303 were received
at Auburn prison, only 1 in 6 3-4 of whom were
re-committed ; but 1 in 6 of these, however, had
no available employment — a significant fact.
During. that lime 329 punishments were infiicted ;
some of these, we believe, are merely denials of
privilege. The "shower-bath," a most dreaded
penalty, as administered, has taken the place of
savage and degrading flagellations. On the
other hand, various favors are held out as re-
wards for good conduct. The health of the in-
mates is a reinarkable proof of the benefits of
cleanliness, regularity, and plain diet ; only nine
deaths occurred in the year. The cost of food
per ration is but six cents ; the average daily ex-
pense of each person, including everything, is
about 23 cents, or a little over eighty dollars a
year, and this, too, for working men — a truth
that should lead us to scan the present wasteful
arrangements of human society, whereby many
comforts and time for self-cultivation are the lot
of but few. The average working time in this
" State boarding-house/ is ten hours, seventeen
minutes. The annual balance
of earnings over cost of sup-
port, $12,317. The facts, al-
ready stated, in regard to re-
commitments, anticipate any
expression of a conviction
that the results of the Auburn
system are very encourajring.
"We may add that the olfem es
here expiated are chiefly lar-
ceny and burglary ; only six
actual murderers, in law, are
to be seen in the prison ; but
the varieties of crime are a
long list. No traveller, who
has time, should fail to visit
the institution. It is full of
matter of curiosity. The new
female college, with an en-
dowment of twenty thousand
dollars, to begin with, is not
yet built. It is to be in the
north-east quarter of the town,
on the site of the Rev. Drs.
Lansing's and Cox's forujer
residences. When this is fin-
ished, Aubm'u will be as much
a centre of education, as it is
now of books, manufactures,
theology, public men, and
criminal punishment. It has
a manifold interest, as its sis-
ter towns have a more partic-
ular reputation, — Albany for
legislation and science, Sche-
nectady for its university, Sy-
racuse for salt, Utica for an
Insane Asylum, Geneva lor
its dioccsa-i importance, Can-
andaiguifor refined society,
Rochester for flour, and Buf-
falo for western trade. The
country around Auburn is
a flat, rolling one, the many
little hills, tufted with woods,
looking in the distance like a
heavy sea changed to solid
earth. There is a cherished
tradition current among the
citizens, to the effect that Jen-
ny Lind expressed herself
more pleased with this city,
its people and environs, than with any she had
visited at that time. Besides Owasco Lake — the
name meaning " floating bridge " in the Cayuga
Indian dialect — there are other frequented resorts
in the vicinity, eminent among which is the
Glcnhaven water-cure establishment at the head
of Skaneateles Lake. A sketch of this is given
herewith, taken from a circular island, surround-
ed by flag-marsh, aud pleasantly arranged for
the many pleasure parties that visit it. A seven
miles drive from Auburn brings you to the beau-
tiful village of Skaneateles, from which a view
up the lake takes in the finest conceivable ex-
panse of farms, sloping to the water, on the left,
and on the right the imperial " De Zang place ;"
from this point, a steamboat runs to Glenhavea,
between shores of romantic beauty.
^VX- . WiBisf^' "^ *^ T^'
'^" '-W?^/^^>- -t^^ i^^ Ibk-.
VIEW OF OWASCO LAKE, IN THE STATE OE NEW TOIUi.
282
GLEASON'S nCTOllIAL DllAWING llOOM COMPANION.
[Written for Oleitson'H Plutorial.]
THE SAILOR'S KKIDIJ.
UY PUILA KARLE.
A fair anci cliorialicd britio, T took th«o from thy liomo,
Where Kophyrs over Hlgli with low and gcntio tono ;
Wlioro peviiinio-liiden \vind» o'or fun the weary brow,
And joyous song birds Ring on overy IbroBt bough ;
Whcrti cvory tiny IiJiif m-cins fraught with lifo n.nd light,
And beauty's linos aro traced on every floweret bright;
AVhoro melody is breathed in every streamlet's ilow,
And plaintive night-winds sigh so sadly sweet and low ;
■\V'bere purling rills gush forth from every mountain's side,
And ripples dance and play, as onwardly they glide ;
Where iloworfl of every liue so beautiful and fu.ir,
Are shedding incense sweet upon the balmy air.
A bright and joyous bride, I took theo from tby homo,
To cheer my weary path upon the ocean foam ;
To gladden oft my heart upon the lonely deep,
WhtTo hardy sailora e'er their lon-ly vigils keep ;
Where oft the surging waves rise like a mountain high,
And bathe with briny tears the diatjint, burning sky ;
Where raging billows wild so madly lash the shore.
Where angry Boreas rough, so wildly, hoarsely roar ;
Where wailing winds sweep by with deep and sullen moon,
And rocky, sea-girt isles are eeen amid the foam ;
Where darkening waves e'er roll, sublimely, grandly, free,
And everything 's so wild upon the deep blue sea.
A loved and loving bride, I took theo from thy home,
But ah 1 my aching heart too soon will beat alone ;
i'or thou, my cherished one, art fading, dying now,
Death's pressed his icy hand upon thy pallid browj
Thy lightest, faintest breath seems sadly to me say.
That thou, like all that's bright, art passiof; now away.
O, can I give thee up, and lay thee down to rest,
Beneath the ocean's deep and darkly heaving breast?
Upon a coral bed, where I may never weep,
Above thy lowly couch of long and dreamless sleep ?
'T is done ! and thou art gone ! within the trackless deep.
With sad and breaking heart, [ 've laid tbeo down to sleep.
[Written for Glcason's Pictorial.]
THE POOR COUSIN.
BY MHa. CAnOLlNE ORNE.
CHAPTER I.
" I HAVE just received a letter from your Aunt
Jrwin," said Mrs. Beckct, addressing her two
daughters, one of whom sat near the fire, read-
ing; while the otiicr reclined indolently upon a
lounge, with her violet eyes so nearly closed that
their long silken lashes almost rested on her
checks, smooth and delicate as a rose-colored
shell.
" What a tease Aunt Irwin is," said she, with-
out raising her snowy eyelids.
" What does she say in her letter V said Mi-
randa, the eldest dauy:hter.
"I hope she has not written you another beg-
ging letter," said Anna, languidly.
" I hardly know what to call it," said Mrs.
Becket. " I will read it to you, and then you
can advise me what to write in answer."
She accordingly read as follows :
" Deak Sister : — As you think you cannot
spare fifty dollars to enable me to pay Mr. Har-
den, I shall be obliged to let Iiim have the cow,
and several articles of furniture, which, though
it will cause us great inconvenience, we must
manage to do without. How we are to get
through the winter, which is close at hand, I am
unable to tell ; but I try not to distrust Provi-
dence. Willie and Lucy, as you know, are too
young to do anything towards their own support,
and Eva can find no employment here, except at
very low wages. Her education is good — much
better than that of most girls of her age, as, dur-
ing her father's life, when we were in compara-
tively prosperous circumstances, she enjoyed the
advantages of a good school, where, besides at-
tending to what are considered the more useful
branches of education, she acquired a knowledge
of the French and German languages, and made
considerable progress in music. But in nothing
did she excel so much as in drawing and paint-
ing. Her teacher thinks her fully competent to
give lessons in either of them. Do you think it
possible for her to obtain a class in your city ?
If she could, and you would be willing to board
her for the assistance she would find time to ren-
der you with her needle, she tliinks the proceeds
might enable me and the children to get through
the winter, when added to what I hope to be able
to earn myself by taking in plain sewing.
*' I beg that you will answer ihis as soon as
you can conveniently, it being necessary that
something should be decided on at once.
"From your sister,
"Marian Irwin."
" I do believe," said Anna, when her mother
had finished reading the letter, " that Aunt Ir-
win imagines you have nothing to do besides at-
tending to lier."
"If she really understands drawing and paint-
ing," said Miranda, " I should like to take les-
sons of her."
"Do you suppose she does, ma?" Haid Anna.
" She has, probably, painted a mourning- piece
at the famous school alluded to by her mother —
an achievement quite sullicient to excite the ad-
miration of the entire community in such an
out-of-lhe-way place as she lives in. lier mother
ought to know that something more is required
here to make a prodigy of her."
"You painted a mourning-piece once, did you
not, ma?" iufiuii'ed Anna.
" It is of no con.sequence whether I ever did
or not," replied her mother.
"At any rate," said Miranda, "there is one
in an old chest, which stands in the attic. The
urn leans so far to one side as to look as if it were
just ready to tumble down; and what is intended
to represent a stream of water, looks like a sky-
blue ribbon."
" Come," said Mrs. Beeket, " we want to talk
about your aunt's letter, not about mourning-
pieces."
" I for one," said Anna, " should like to have
Eva come. She will do to amuse me when I
get tired of my music and embroidery, and every-
thing else of the kind that is available, as I
sometimes do. The worst of it is, people will
find out that she is our cousin."
" And what if they should V said Miranda.
"I don't like to be laughed at on account of
my poor relations."
" I should like to have any one laugh at me
on that or auy other account," said Miranda.
"I think the experiment would be one which
would be gladly al)andoned."
" On the whole," said Mrs. Becket, "I think
we had better let the girl come. I have a great
deal of sewing on liand — enough to employ a
seamstress for months, and you know that her
mother offers to have her sew for her board."
" If she can sew nice, I shall want her to do a
great deal of sewing for me," said Anna.
" You needn't think to monopolize her," said
Miranda, "that is, if she really knows anything
about drawing and painting."
" We must try to get her a class," said Mrs.
Becket.
" Now, ma, we cannot have a dozen girls com-
ing to the house to take lessons," said Anna;
" and if she were obliged to call at their own
homes to give them, I suspect she would have
little time left for sewing or anything else."
"Iti^ill be time enough to settle that when
we ascertain whether or not she is qualified to
give lessons," said Miranda. "If she is, I am
determined that she shall devote most of her
time to me."
"How, then, is she to earn anything to help
her mother along?" said Mrs. Becket. "Of
course she wont be so ungrateful as to accept
anything for giving j/oii lessons, when she is in-
debted to us for a home."
"And suck a home," said Miranda, while a
sarcastic smile — so slight as to be imperceptible
to her mother and sister — curled her lips.
"Yes," said Mrs. Becket, "it will be quite
different from the poverty-^ti'uck home she has
been accustomed to."
"Poverty-struck in worldly splendor, though
rich in what is better, and which gold cannot
buy," murmured Miranda, to herself.
"What can that be?" said Anna, who over-
heard her sister's remark.
" If it be an enigma to you," was Miranda's
answer, " I had better leave you to find it out at
your leisure. If it should always remain so,
then so much the better, as you will never real-
ize the want of it."
" What a queer girl our Miranda is !" said
Anna. " Half of the time I don't understand
what she means."
"It is not likely tliat she does herself " said
Mrs. Becket.
"Not at all likely," was Miranda's rejoinder.
"Are you going to answer Aunt Irwin's let-
ter, ma?" inquiicd Anna.
" I should prefer to have Miranda answer it;
I always did and always shall bate to write
letters."
Without speaking, Miranda brought forward
a writing-desk, and arranged her materials for
writing. The letter was speedily written.
" Do you wish me to read it to yon?" she
asked, staying her hand as slic was preparing to
fold it.
"No," replied her mother. "Just mention
what you have written, that will be enough."
" I have told Aunt Irwin that you have author-
ized mc to suy to her that you arc willing Eva
should come and remain a few weeks on trial."
Siie did not tell her mother that, in addition,
she had promised to pay the expenses of her
journey from her allowance of pocket money, ho
that her aunt could retain what was intended for
that purpose to ^^o towards the maintenance of
herself and children.
CHAPTER II.
Eva Irwin, though nineteen years old, had
never been in one of our larger cities ; and when
at the dose of a cold misty day — the mist hav-
ing changed to a dull heavy rain a little before
sunset, — the coach which she had taken at the
depot stopped in front of a large brick house;
she had never in her life felt so lonely and
desolate.
" This is the place," said the coachman, open-
ing the door of the vehicle, and letting down the
steps.
He assisted her to alight, placed her baggage
on the door-steps of the stately mansion that
seemed to look down upon Iier with a frown, and
was about to resume his seat on the coach-box,
when he returned, pulled the bell handle, and
said :
" That will bring somebody out, I guess."
And it did. The door was at once opened by
a servant in livery, who said ;
"Miss Irwin, I presume. Mrs. Becket is ex-
pecting you. Walk this way ;" and with quite a
patronizing air, he preceded her to the door of a
small back parlor, which he licld open till she
had entered.
The remains of a coal fire were in the grate,
and a brass lamp was burning on the mantel,
but neither aunt nor cousins came to welcome
her. She ventured to divest herself of her bon-
net and damp shawl, and then shivering with the
cold, she drew her chair close to the nearly ex-
tinguished fire.
Five, ten, and, at last, twenty minutes had
passed away, when the door opened, and a young
lady with a quick, elastic step entered, and ap
preaching lier, held out her hand. Eva arose.
"I am your cousin Miranda," said the young
lady, " and I have been trying to break away
from a few tiresome people in the drawing room
ever since you have an-ivcd. You must be cold,
for I see that the fire is nearly out, and hungry,
too, for I suppose you have not dined."
" No, I have not."
Miranda was about to ring the bell, and order
something to be brought up, when a girl entered,
bearing a tray, on which was a cup of weak tea
and a few thin slices of bread and butter. Mi-
randa looked at the contents of the tray, then to
Eva with a kind of comical smile. She next
turned to the girl.
" Take this tray down again," said she, " and
make an addition to the bread and butter, such
as my mother, sister, or I should require, if we
had been travelling ever since sunrise without
having had anything to eat. Instead of this
sloppy stuff, bring up some tea, also, such as 1
like."
" Yes'm, I understand," said the girl.
Miranda now replenished the grate from the
contents of a coal-scuttle, which she found in a
closet, and seated herself opposite her cousin.
" I hope," said she, " that you are not one of
those delicate young ladies who would be shocked
at my ordeiing more substantial food."
"Far from it," replied Eva. "I really feel
the need of something a little heartier than slices
of bread and butter, so thin as to be transpa-
rent."
" I am glad of it. I have known girls of our
age who imagine it is not genteel to have a good
appetite. Anna has a dear friend (the friendship
subsisting between them was formed at a board-
ing school, and in their own estimation, will end
only with life), who pretends slic can dine on a
slice of pine-apple, or a quarter of an orange."
" You know that I am a country girl," said
Eva.
" And so is Anna's dear friend. But I suspect
she can eat the wing of a chicken behind the
elosct door. And now I want to ask you if you
really understand anything about drawing and
painting?"
" I must leave that for you to decide. I have
brought a few specimens v.hich will help you to
judge."
" To confess the truth, I am rather a good
judge for a girl of twenty, I have always, ever
since I can remember, had a fondness for pic-
tures, and have availed myself of every opportu-
nity to gratify my inclination to look at them.
This, however, has generally been done in too
idle a mood, to enable mc to profit by it as much
as 1 might have done. Yet, after all, as I have
said, I am rather a good judge."
" So good as to condemn my poor attempts, I
am afraid."
" It is not impossible but that I may sec faults
in them; yet I hope to find you able to be my
teacher."
" O, I cannot think of such a thing,"
"We- shall see. I have never, as yet, done
anything more than to make a few sketches.
But here comes Janet with something more in-
viting than weak tea and bread and butter. Do
you know, Eva, that I like you a great deal bet-
ter than I expected to?" said Miranda, as she
handed her cousin a cup of tea.
Eva smiled as she replied :
"I can say the same of you"
"How did you form an opinion of me — from
imagination or description ?"
"From dcsciiption."
"And there were some tj-aits in my character
that were not remarkably amicable, you thought ?"
"I certainly have been told that you are a lit-
tle apt to laugh at people in your sleeve, and
being an awkward country cousin, I expected to
yield you a double share of merriment."
" The imputation may not be without founda-
tion ; but I assure you I never laugh at what is
neither silly nor lidiculous, therefore, }ou may
be certain that I shall never laugh at you."
"Much obliged to you," said Eva.
"And what information did you receive as to
my personal appearance ?"
" Such as prepared me to find you much less
good looking than you are."
" While Anna was described to you as very
beautiful."
" Yes."
" I thought so, and so she is, yet T would not
exchange this phiz of mine, had I the power, for
hers. I like my face altogether the best, and so
I think you will, for there is more character in it."
" If so, I certainly shall."
"Anna has mind enough, but she is too indo-
lent to use it. She will, probably, show you, by
the manner she treats you, that she considers
herself much above you ; but you must not mind
it, so as to feel unpleasantly about it. Having
been told so, she takes it for granted. As for
mother, she is terribly afraid of Mrs. Grundy.
Some invisible imp is constantly at her ear,
whispering, ' What will the world say ?' There,
I hear steps in the passage. A messeuger for
me, I dare say, and I musPnot too long neglect
those stupid people in the drawing-room, for, as
they may be spiteful as well as stupid, it is best
to keep friends with them. The fire and supper
have wonderfully improved your personal ap-
pearance. You looked very blue and miserable
when I first saw you this evening, and no won-
der. Well, Milly, what do you wish ?" said she,
to a little servant girl, who had been standing at
the door, waiting patiently for an opportunity to
speak.
" Mrs. Becket wants to know if you will please
come to the drawing-room."
" Certainly I will. Eva, there are a few books
which may serve to amuse you till I return,
which will be in season to show you to your
room — a privilege of which I intend to deprive
Milly, at least, for to night."
The ensuing day a consultation was held re-
lative to the few pictures and sketches which Eva
had brought as specimens of her skill.
" She will do to teach me," said Miranda.
" Don't judge too hastily," said her mother.
"It appears to me that the colors are not bril.
liant enough."
" That is what I think," said Anna. " I
should not imagine the coloring to be at all
Titan-like. It was Titan, was it not, Miranda,
who was so celebrated for the brightness of his
tinting?"
" If I am not mistaken," said Miranda, grave-
ly, " the Titans were more celebrated for their
strength and dexterity in hurling rocks than for
their skill as painters."
" Well, I should think," said Anna, "that
Charles Lyndale would know as well as you, for
he has been through college, and travelled all
over Europe and Italy, and lie said, the other
day, that Titan was one of tbe finest painteis
that ever lived. Ah ! here he comes, I will ask
him."
"You mean Titian," said Eva, so softly as
not to be heard by a young gentleman, who, at
that moment, entered tbe room.
But Anna cither did not understand what she
GLEASON'S I'ICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
283
said, or did not choose to be set right by her
poor cousin, the appclhition which she and her
mother liad ah'eady commenced applying to Eva
whenever they mentioned her. She, therefore,
appealed to Sir. Lyndale, in order to settle the
question.
" Yes," said he, " Titian was a fine painter,
and, as you say, a distinguished colorist, though
more as it regarded tones and shades than for
peculiar brilliancy, for which he was less celebra-
ted than Rubens."
" There, I knew he was a great painter," said
Anna, pouting her pretty lips.
" You merely left out the i," said Miranda,
" a fault you are never guilty of in reference to
yourself. You are too mucli of an egotist for
that."
In the meantime, Lyndale found opportunity
to make Miranda understand that he wished to
be presented to Eva. She accordingly intro-
duced her as her cousin, and, in return, received
an angry glance from her mother, who, by way
of apology, remarked to Lyndale that she sup-
posed Miranda imagined that he had as great a
fondness for making new acquaintances as she
had.
" I shall certainly be happy to have the honor
of Miss Irwin's acquaintance," said he.
This was said in such a manner that Eva
could not doubt his sincerity, and though she
remained silent, he could sec by her countenance
that she, on her part, entertained no objection to
becoming better acquainted with him.
"What do you think of these paintings, Mr.
Lyndale 1" said Anna. " Do you think the per-
son who could paint such capable of teaching
mC?"
"I think (AaC must depend on yourself," was
Lyndale's reply.
"Anna has quite a genius for painting," said
Mrs. Becket.
"If so," said Lyndale, "she can, doubtless,
take lessons of Miss Irwin with advantage to
herself."
"lam certain that she can teach jwe," said
Miranda, "so I shall commence taking lessons
at once."
CHAPTER TIL
" How do you like Mr. Lyndale?" inquired
Miranda of Eva, as tliey sat together in a small
apartment fitted up as a school-room.
" I have, as yet, had little opportunity to fonn
an opinion concerning him."
" No matter for that ; you have formed one, I
know."
" To confess the truth, I have, and, as I think,
a pretty correct one."
"And you consider him superior to any young
gentleman you ever saw V
" Which may not be any great admission, as I
never saw many."
" Nor I, though, I suppose, I have seen many
more than you have; never but one, however,
who might be considered Lyndale's equal, and
he, poor fellow, found that he
' to foreign lands must hie.
Pursuing fortune's slippery ba — ' "
"Wlio is he?"
"His name is Berringfon, and some time I
will tell you all about him."
"Is not Anna pleased with Mr. Lyndale V
" Yes, with his good looks."
" And your mother ?"
" She is pleased with his well-filled purse."
" Is he not partial to Anna V
" He was at first, I think, but not now. His
is not a mind to be long held in thrall by mere
personal beauty. I am glad you have come,
for he began to be in danger of falling in love
with me, which would have been an unfortunate
affair, as my allegiance is due to another. You
will avert the threatened danger, for, though not
before aware of the deficiency, he will now find
that I lack several qualities which you possess,
and which, now that he has discovered them in
you, he will consider indispensable."
" You are a strange girl," said Eva, " and
imagine an impossibility. Mr. Lyndale is too
much of a gentleman not to treat me politely
when we chance to meet ; but if I should leave
here to-mon-ow, I do not imagine that he would
ever bestow on me a single thought. Then,
there is Anna."
"Any other handsome face will please her as
well, and better, as it will have the charm of
novelty, and, as I have said, there must be some-
thing more than personal beauty in the lady who
holds any permanent control over him. As for
Anna, her education is so wofully deficient, that.
if she were his wife, he would tremble every time
she opened her lips, witli the expectation that
she would betray her ignorance. I used, former-
ly, to blush when she committed some gross mis-
take ; but I have become hardened now, and
frequently feel really amused. Yoa would hard-
ly believe that she has had the best advantages
for acquiring a good education — better than I
have had, she being the favorite. Her pretty
face and unlimited indulgence have come near
making an imbecile of her."
Mrs. Becket now entered the room with a
large work-basket on her arm.
"Miranda," said she, "it wont answer for you
to engross so much of Eva's time with your
drawing. Here is a great deal of sewing which
must be done."
" Why don't Anna finish her morning-dress
herself?" said Miranda. "X am sure she has
time enough."
" Why, you know as well as I that she is too
delicate to sew much, and even if she could, she
so dislikes to have her fingers scarred with a
needle, just as if she were a common seamstress.
Eva, see that you complete that morning-dress
before you sleep, as Anna wishes to put it on in
the morning. You had better waste no more
time, but go to work at once."
Eva quietly took up the dress and commenced
sewing.
" Be very particular to do it nice," said Mrs.
Becket.
" I will," was Eva's reply.
" I have just realized the force of example,"
said Miranda, when her mother had left the
room. " I was about to make a rather pungent
remark when mother spoke of your wasting time,
but the calm way in which you listened to her
showed me the magnanimity of forbearance."
" You know, as a dependent, it is necessary
that I should exercise sclf-eontrol."
" I should have thought Aunt Irwin might
have known that it would not do for you to un-
dertake to sew for your hoard without certain
restrictions. I don't believe, were you to work
twelve hours out of every twenty-four, that you
will do more than will be expected of you."
" The evenings are long now."
" Do you intend to finish Anna's dress V
" Yes, I can do it by ten."
" I don't think you will, for I intend that you
shall spend a part of the evening in the parlor."
" For what reason ?"
" No matter now. I may tell you when the
time comes."
" I am so glad," said Anna, when her mother
returned, " that I thought of something that
would keep the poor cousin away this evening,
for I heard Charles Lyndale tell Miranda that
he and Mr. Lascelles were coming."
" Who is Mr. Lascelles V'
" The gentleman I saw at Mrs. Barstow's par-
ty. If Lyndale don't mind, he will throw him
quite into the shade. O, he dresses so elegantly,
and is so polite."
" That may be, yet I don't believe him to be
equal to Charles Lyndale. I am certain he is
not as wealthy."
"Who cares for wealth, ma? O, I always
thought it would be so pretty to live in a cottage
half covered with vines, and close to a purling
stream, and to dress in simple white muslin, and
to play on the harp and guitar, and have plenty
of strawberries and cream, and not be plagued
with servants. My friend Juliet told me in her
last letter that no consideration on earth would
induce her to marry a rich man. The idea was
so unromantic," she said.
"Aunadeav," said Mrs. Becket, "you must
recollect that simple white dresses need washing,
and that even strawberries and cream cannot be
prepared without labor."
"I never thought of tliat, and I don't believe
Juliet did."
" I suspect not, I advise you, now that I have
reminded you of it, to bear it in mind ; also, that
a Charles Lyndale is not to be met with every
CHAPTER IV.
As was expected, Ljndale and his friend Las-
celles came to spend a social evening. Anna,
whose head had been full of Lascelles all day,
con^iumed as much lime at her toilet as if she
had been going to attend a ball, or a soiree, and,
as Miranda said, she looked like a beautiful
piece of wax-work.
The time she had not spent in dressing, had
moi^tly been devoted to studying the most grace-
ful attitudes. Her mother, as she gazed with
fondness on her fiivorite, could not forbear think-
ing that Lyndale would find her charms so irre-
sistible, as to, at once, bring him to her feet.
Vain expectation ! He had discovered that be-
side the defects of her education, she was unami-
able, and sometimes absolutely ill-natured.
Lascelles, who had been struck with her beau-
ty the evening he saw her at Mrs. Barstow's,
was, on the present occasion, fascinated. His
was a mind differently constituted from that of
Lyndale's ; he cared more for beauty, and less
for mind.
Lyndale, from having been uncommonly ani-
mated, had gradually become silent and absent-
minded. He often turned his eyes towards the
door, as if in expectation of the entrance of some
one, whose presence he had anticipated. He
had no thought that Eva was sitting alone in her
remote and solitary chamber. It was now three
hours since she had been at her task, and she be-
gan to grow weary and exhausted, yet finding
that she had under-rated the amount of what
was to be done to finish the dress, she could give
herself no time to rest, if she hoped to satisfy her
aunt and her fair cousin, who, of the two, was
the most exacting and heartless task-mistress.
It cannot be denied that it would have been grat-
ifying to her to have joined the little social cir-
cle in the parlor, if she could have done so on
terras of equality ; but, as on several occasions
heretofore, to be considered a legitimate object
of mirth to the pretty Anna, who tittered at the
poor cousin behind her fan, and as a target for
what Mrs. Becket considered shafts of wit, which,
however, savored far more of malevolence, was
an infliction which more than transcended the
pleasure.
" You have not seen the poor cousin, have
you ;" said Anna, addressing Lascelles.
" I have not," he replied, with a look which
indicated some surprise.
" I have half a mind to send for her, then.
You cannot think how much she amuses me
when I get tired of everything else."
" I hope that is not the case now," said Las-
celles.
" O, no indeed !" she replied ; " but I thought
she might amuse you; I was afraid it would
seem dull here."
" That would be impossible in your presence."
" You are very complimentary," said Anna, a
remark which she could not have applied to Lyn-
dale, had she seen the look with which he re-
garded her.
" I will go and ask Eva to come," said Miran-
da, as Anna was going to ring for a servant.
" Come, Eva," said she, " lay aside your work,
and I will help you finish it, if you are deter-
mined to finish it to-night."
" Why should I lay it aside ?" said Eva.
" You are wanted in the drawing-room by my
fair sister, and still more by Charles Lyndale, if
I may judge by the way he has watched the door
for the last hour."
" I cannot go."
" And I cannot blame you if you do not; yet,
I wish you would. If you don't comply with
Anna's whims, her antagonism will be aroused,
and then there will be so little peace for you
here, you will be obliged to quit, which (you see
I am selfish as well as the rest) will put an end
to my drawing lessons."
" You are right," said Eva. " As I am situ-
ated, it would be indiscreet for me to refuse."
"It certainly would, if you have any wish to
remain a few weeks longer. Now go to the glass
and arrange those dark rich braids of hair, and
you will look well enough."
" Eor the poor cousin, you might add."
"There she comes," said Anna, to Lascelles,
as Eva entered the room.
" Who I" he inquired.
" Why, the poor cousin I spoke to you about."
"Ah ! I recollect."
" Look at J\Ir. Lyndale," said Anna. "One
might imagine by the manner he addresses her
that he had mistaken her for a princess."
" Nor would it be drawing very hard upon his
imagination either," said Lascelles.
" Well, she does give herself mighty fine airs.
That is one thing, when she is so very poor, that
amuses me so much."
" She is not really your cousin, I suppose.
'The poor cousin' is merely a soubriquet."
"Nothing more," said Anna, evasively, and
screening her face behind her fan, to prevent him
from perceiving her heightened color,
[CONCLUDKD NEXT WEEK.]
" Ye.", let truth te free,
To ipake her sallies upon tbee and me,
Which way it plcuscis Ijod."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE OAK OF THE FOREST.
Thou oak of the forest 1 whose dark branches away
O'er the wild lonely paths of my weed-tangled way ;
Proud oak of the forest ! 0 hear me complain,
That the journey of life is a journey of pain.
Where the pilgrim of sadness his hard hurthen bears,
Where the fond child of sentiment hopes and despairs ;
Where pleasures, succeeded full soon by dL=gust,
Remind us that man's but heir of the dust I
Ah ! would that like thee I might safely defy
All the tempests that sweep o'er the world's fickle sky ;
Ah 1 would that like thee 1 could calmlr behold
The murderous whirlwind its terrors unfold.
But never, no, never, thou beautiful tree,
Shall my spirit be firm and majestic as thee !
For still by the cares on my bosom that crowd,
Will its firmness be shaken — its fortitude bowed.
And still shall the frost-winds that ravaging go,
Kill the buds of my fancy as fast as they blow ;
Proud lord of the forest ! I gaze on thy prime,
And sigh as I view thee thus towering sublime.
For thou, vdth thy brethren, wilt flourishing grow,
AVhen this bosom is cold, and this head is laid low ;
In the fresh gale of spring shall thy green honors wave,
When I shall be dust in the mouldering grave.
Each summer that comes \n\\ thy foliage restorcj
^Vhen £ shall be withered to flourish no more;
But hold 1 there is hope, there is comfort for me,
Mid the darkness of sorrow, rich dawnings I see.
0 world I where the weary shall endlessly rest,
No longer by. power or fortune opprest ;
0 realms I where my spirit shall joyously soar,
When the oak of the forest shall flourish no more !
HOW TO TREAT A RATTLESNAKE.
Our guide told us be was once camping out
with an old Indian ; it was raid-day, and he was
lying on tlie ground whilst the old chief was re-
clining with his back against a tree, -when .'jud-
denly a large rattlesnake wriggled ilself delibe-
rately across the old chief's iniked body. The
snake seemed to enioy the warmth of it, remain-
ing ."^ome time on the Indian's stocnach. The
chief was watching it all the time, but dared not
move, knowing if he did so the snake would
strike him. At length, without moving a mus-
cle, he made a peculiar hissing noise, and the
snake, after lifiing up his head and listening,
glided away. — Sullivan s RumUts in Amtiica.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE EXILE SISTERS.
BY MRS. R. T. ELDBEDGE.
" Sing to me, sister, I am sad to-day,
Come, tune thy harp in low and pensive sti'ains j
Siug of our home, that lies be> ond tue seas.
Sing of its flowery bauks, its grassy plains;
The sounds of home to me are ever dear,
They soothe my heart when sonow 'h lingering near."
Sweet Emma took her harp and swept the strings,
And ''Home, sweet Home,"' fell on her sister's ear;
" Cease, Emma, cease I though passing sweet the strains,
The sounds of home are dear, alas, too dear !
Hang up thj' harp, it speaks to me of home.
Why were we forced from that lovtd land to roam ?"
And then the sisters bowed their heads and wept,
riigh answered sigh, that spoke of untold grief;
They raised their e^es, and murmuring "home, sweet
home,"
Sadly they smiled, for tears had brought relief.
Each strove the other's heartfelt grief to heal,
None but the exile, grief like theirs can feel !
OK SIIRLTISHIP.
He that is surety for a stranger, shall smart
for it; but lie that iiateih suretyship, is sure.
Piov. 11 : 10. Be very wary for whom thou be-
comest securiry, and for no move than ihou art
able to discharge, if thou lovest thy liberty. The
borrower is a slave lo the lender — the secnrily is
.<!lave to both ; while the borrower and lender are
both eased, the security hears both their burdens;
he is a wise secuiity that secures himself. —
Fiancis Quarles, 1630.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
REftiElJlBLRED ORES.
BY J. mJNT, JR.
Not those who've trod the martial field,
And led to arms a battling host ;
And ut whose name the " world grew pale,"
AVill be, in time, remembered moot.
But they who've walked the paths of peace,
And gave their aid to deeds that's just,
Shall live for aje on memory's paee,
When heroes sltep in unknown dust.
The privations of povtrty render ns loo cold
and callous, and t4ie privilege of properly, too
arrogant and consujucntial to feel; the first
places us beneath the influence of opinion, the
second above it.
284
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DllAWING llOOM (JOMPANIOX.
DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
Though wc have so hiti-ly ^^ven our renders a
brief sketeh of the life uud Hcrvieos of llie late
Duko of Wellin^'tmi, yet wo deem it interesting
to mftko a further sketeh of liis earecr, to aeeom-
pany the fine pieture of the rcno\vTied old warrior
on horseback. Although theru can be no moral
doubt that the duke was born in Dublin, yet this
fact has been disputed; and with rcspcet to the
day and month of birth, although not fixed, they
are usually stated as the 1st of May, in the year
1769. The illustrioua subject of our engraving
first saw the light in the town residence of his
parents, the Earl and CountehS of Mornington,
Mornington bouse— a mansion of some preten-
sions in the centre of the eastern side of Upper
Mcrrion street, Dublin, and which, as it abutted
eighty years ago as a corner bouse upon a large
area, since enclosed with buildings, was occasion-
ally described as situate in Merrion square. The
duke kept his birthday on the 18th of June.
cd a subaltern four years and three months, at
the expiration of which service ho received his
captaincy. On the :(Otb of June, 1701, he was
promoted to a captaincy in the 58th, from which
corps he exchanged into tlie 18tli Liglit Dra-
goons in the October of the following year. At
length on the aoth of April, ITii.'J, be obtained
bis majority in tlic 33d, a regiment which may
boast of considerable identification with his re-
nown, for he proceeded in it to bis lieutenant-
colonelcy and colonelcy, and comnninded it per-
sonally throughout the early stages of his active
career. In the month of May, 1794, Arthur
WcUesley, being then in bis 26tb year, and in
command of the 33d Kcgiment, embarked at
Cork for service on the continent of Europe, so
tliat bis first active duties involved great inde-
pendent responsibility. The aspect of affairs at
that period was unpromising in the extreme.
War had been declared about twelve months
previously between England and France, and
to acquire, in conjunclion with subsequent events,
u providential character, the orders were ulti-
mately changed, and the services of the young
colonel were employed on a scene far better cal-
<rulated to develop his military genius. In the
spring of 170(>, the weather-beaten 33d received
directions to embark for Bengal. At this criti-
cal period, however, the health of Colonel Welles-
ley suddenly failed him. Considering that
strength of constitution and temperament with
which we have since become familiar, it is re-
markable to observe how repeatedly the Iron
Duke, in earlier days, was attacked, and appa-
rently almost mastered by debility and sickness.
On the present occasion, lie was actually unable
to embark with bis regiment, but a favorable
change afterwards supervened, and he succeeded
in joining the corps at the Cape of Good Hope.
The remainder of the voyage was soon complet-
ed, and in February, 1797, Arthur Wellesley
landed at Calcutta, to commence in earnest that
of the Mabratta States, by which it was surround-
ed ; and Madras, in earlier times the leading
government, had recovered much of its impor-
tance from the virtual absorption of the Carnaiie,
the formidable resources and uncertain disposi-
tion of the Ni/.am, and, above all, the menacing
attitude of Tippoo Sultaun, the adventurer oi
Mysore. It was against this barbaric chieftain
that the spurs of Arthur Wellcsley were won.
In September, 1805, he returned to England, af-
ter nine years absence. The spkndid success
attending his European campaigns now won for
him a new wreath of laurels witii the noble title of
duke. But the details of hismilitary career in Eu-
rope against the armies of Napoleon, are so much
matters of common history as to be perfectly fa-
miliar to our readers ; and, as we cannot in our
limits give anything like a full view of tbern,
we pass them by, and in conclusion say that the
private life of the duke was simple, methodical,
and familiar in most of its features tu all inhabi-
HQUESTRTAN PORTRAIT OF THE L \TE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
Arthur Wellesley, hy tlie death of his father in
1781, became dependent at an early age upon
the care and prudence of his mother— a lady, as
it fortunately happened, of talents not unequal
to the task. Under this direction of bis studies
be was sent to Eton, from which college he was
transferred, fir-it, to private tuition at Brighton,
and subsequently to the military seminary of
Angers, in France. At Angers, though the
young student left no signal reputation behind
him. it is clear that bis time must have been pro-
ductively employed. Pignerol, the director of
the seminary, was an engineer of high repute,
and the opportunities of acquiring, not only pro-
fessional knowledge, but a serviceable mastery of
the French tongue, were not likely to have been
lost on such a minda^ that of his pupil. On the
7th of March, 1787, the Hon. Arthur Wellesley,
beini; then in bis 18th year, rccpivcd his first
commission as an ensign in the 73rd Regiment
of Foot, His promotion was rapid, but not more
so in its fir-'t steps than in examples visible at
the present day, and much less fo than in the
case of some of his contemporaries. He remain-
10,000 British troops, under the command of the
Duke of York, had been despatched to aid the
operations of the allied powers in the low couti-
tries. The Duke of York's corps was disem-
barked at 0-*tcnd, with, perhaps, less prestige
than any division of the allied army. Though
the exertions of the royal commander hud al-
ready been directed, and with some success, to
military reforms, yet the conditions of the service
were still miserably bad. The Duke of York
was repulsed in a series of engagements, and it
was in aid of his discomfited force that Colonel
Wellesley carried out the 33d Regiment to the
scene of his first as wtU as of his last services —
the plains of Belgium. On the return of the ex-
pedition to England, the .33d was landed at Har-
wich, and, for a short time, encamped at Warley,
where it soon recovered its effective strength. In
the autumn of the same year, Colonel Wellesley
conducted his corps to Southampton, where it
Wivs embarked on board the outward-bound fleet,
under the flag of Admiral Christian. The dcs-
ttnfition of the force was the West Indies, but,
through a series of accidents so remarkable, as
career of service which will reflect such cttmal
lustre on his name. Small as were the anticipa-
tions of the active service which the young colo-
nel could have entertained at his first landing in
India, a few months saw him in the field with his
corps against a resolute and formidable enemy.
By a notable instance of fortune, the elder bro-
ther of Arthur Wellesley was nominated to the
Governor-Generalship of India within a few
months after Arthur had arrived at Calcutta, and
the talents of a most accomplished statesman
were thus at hand to develop and reward the
genius of the rising soldier. Lord Mornington,
like many of his successors, went out in the con-
fident expectation of maintaining peace, but
found himself engaged in hostilities against his
most ardent desire. At that time the three pre-
sidencies of India shared pretty evenly between
them the perils and prospects of active service in
the flcld. Bengal, since the definite submission
of Oiule, liad l»een comparatively quiet; but it
was the imperial presidency, and its troops were
held readily disposable for the exigencies of the
others. Bomliav viliratcd with everv convulsion
tants and visitors of the metropolis. His attend-
ance at the early service at the Chapel Royal,
and at the Whitehall sermons, his walk in the
park in former years, and of late days his ride
through the Horse Guards, with his servant be-
hind liim, arc incidents which every newspaper
has long chronicled for the information of the
world. His personal habits were those of mil-
itary punctuality, his daily duties were discharg-
ed systematically a"* they recurred, and his estab-
lishment was as thriftily regulated as the smallest
household in the land. This economy enabled
him to effect considerable savings, and it is be-
lieved that the property of the title must have
been very largely increased. He married in
1806 the Hon. Catherine Pakenham, third daugh-
ter of the second Baron Longford — a lady for
whose hand, as Arthur Wellesley, with nothing
but the sword of an infantry captain to second
his pretensions, he had previously, wc ai'e in-
formed, been an imsuccessfu! suitor. The du-
chess died in 1831. The duke expired a widow-
er, leaving two Fons lo inliciii, Ids name and
his glory as a soldier-staiesman.
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING HOO'SI COMPANION.
285
rHEDEEICK GLEASON, PRorniETon.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
COATEiNTS OF OUR NEXT AU3IKER.
'■ Cnoper Isle,'' a tale of the sea, by E. Cdrtiss Hine,
U. S. N.
^'Turkey and the Turks," No. TX, relating to the
Mosque of \chmet, by Dr. .Ieromb V. C. Smith.
" Autographs and Autojrraphy," No. X, by William
Edward Knowles, givinf^ the Fipnaturci of Frank Pierce
(Democratic candidate for the Presidency). 11. Il.istings
Weld .lohn P. Kennedy, Charles Sprague, J. T. Headley,
flco. Tanning Hill, Ben; Perlcy Poore and Parke Goodwin.
" Travels in Palestine.'' No. XI, relating to tlie KiTer
Jordan, bv Rev. F. W. HOLLAND.
" The Heart that loves truly can never forget," lines, by
Mary G. Kalping.
'* The Hook of the Future,' verses, by Owen G. Warren.
*' Consolation," verses, by J. Starr Hollowat.
" Life's Dark Hours," 3 poem, bv Joseph 11. Butler.
" Modesty," verses, by Mrs. R. t. Eldredge-
'* A Song," by Caroline A. Hatden.
" Au^tralia." versus, by E Cdrtiss Hine, U. S. N.
" 4mie,"' a poem, by .Tohn II. Goodwin.
" Kudy and Willie," verse.'', by Conrad S. Kyser.
'* The Indian Summer," lines, by Francis A. Duritage.
ILLTJSTEATIONS.
We shall give a fine view of the Baptist Theological In-
stitute, Newton, Mass., drawn on the spot, by our artist,
Mr. Mallory.
An interesting view of Sutter's Mill, with a view of Co-
lonia, California, former residence of the founder, Capt.
Sutter.
An eastern ecene, representing the Sultan's State
Barge, in which the monarch navigates the Bosphorus
and Golden Horn.
A maritime picture, representing the late spirited re-
gatta which took place at Lisbon.
A view of a California locality known as the Mission of
San Carlos.
We Bh.ill give a very fine and lifelike picture, represent-
ing the late Firemen's Parade in Brooklyn City, N. Y.
Also a view of Firemen's H.ill.in its gala dress, arranged
for the occasion of its dedication.
A portrait of Viscount Hardinge, the new commander
in chief of the armies of Great Britain, successor to the
Duke of Wellington.
An agricultural scene, by our artist, Mr. Chapin, rep-
resenting the late Ploughing Match at Bridgeport, Ct.
A view of the island of Icbaboe, the famous deposit of
guano, about which there is now so much said.
Also a representation of the mode of gathering and
shipping the guano for this and otner countries.
An interior view of the well known riding school of
Disbrow & Co., Boston.
A fine view by our artist, Mr. MnnninSi representing
the Court House at Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.
CHANGE OF RESIDENCE.
We not unfi-equently receive such notices as the
following, and wish to impress it upon our read-
ers that when they desire the address of their
papers changed, they must be particular to state
where it has been sent hpretofore. It would occu-
py one of our clerks a week or more to hunt up
a given name, without the residence being given,
among our immense list of subscribers.
Selma, Ala., October 7, 1852.
Mr Frederice Gleason, — -^iri-You will see by the
Ciiption of tiiis that 1 Jim now in trelnia. I expect to make
it my home for some time to come. Thert^fore, be so kind
u» to Rend the Flag to that place and oblige
l^ours, .
SPLINTERS.
.... Biscaccianti has piicked up her wardrobe
and gone to South America.
Miss Kimberly has proved very success-
fnl in her engagement at Providence.
.... We suspect that the manager of Camille
Urso's concerts didn't know the "ropes."
.... One of the Boston editors has been sent
to an insane asylum. Only one!
It is beautifully said that faith spans the
gulf of death with the bridge of hope.
.... We are tired of reading the fulsome flat-
tery expended upon public performers.
.... The people of New York city consume
100 000 quarts of milk (orwhat is so called) daily.
Mad. Sontag wore a S1500 dress at one
of licr late concerts. It was made in New York.
The Duke of Wellington received $80
per day as commander in-chief of the British army.
.... We saw a letter from Kossuth, the other
day; he is " biding his time " quietly in London.
Wont Miss Bennett, at the Boston Mu-
seum, please to stand up straic/ht?
.... Professor Morse, in the National Intelli-
gencer, sustains Mr. Hill's claim to the Hillotype,
.... Theodore Parker and R. W. Emerson
are engaged for lectures in Cincinnati this winter.
.... Snow six inches deep fell at Nashua,
N. tl., on the 15th inst.
EASTERN TRAVEIi.
Modern travellers are beginning to forsake the
old, beaten routes of European tourists, as too
commonplace and familiar. The continent of
Europe has been brought by steamers so close
to our doors, that a trip to Europe is now no
more of an undertaking than a trip to Niagara,
or a journey from Boston to New York was, a
few yfars ago. You miss a friend from his fa-
miliar haunts for a few weeks — they seem like
days, and when you meet him again, you ask
him carelessly where he has been "? laid up with
the influenza'? or on a visit to his uncle in the
country'? He replies quite as carelessly, that he
has been making the European tour. He has
seen Liverpool, he has seen London, the Tower,
Whitehall, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's ; the
Kegent's Park, Hyde Park, the Derby races ; he
has crossed the Channel, visited Paris, sauntered
on the Boulevards, been to the grand opera,
seen a review and a revolution there ; steamed
it down the Rhine, glanced at the " castled crag
of Drachenfels," gazed on Ehrenbreitstein's
ruined wall, black with the miner's blast, and
and heard in imagination the song of Lurelic ;
then he has crossed the Alps, has seen the Cam-
pagna, Rome, St. Peter's and the Forum, "as-
sisted " as the Prench say, at the Carnival of
Venice, and so home again by railway and trans-
atlantic steamer, bringing witii liim a trunk full
of Torr's hoots, and two dozen pairs of white
kid gloves. And he talks about all this care-
lessly, and you listen carelessly, without any sort
of wonder, for the names and places he mentions
are familiar as household words. Soon the elec-
tric telegraph will render the mental communica-
tion instantaneous, and the second editions of
the penny papers on State street will tell you
what they are doing at the same hour at the
Stock Exchange of London and the Bourse of
Paris. Yes, it must be confessed — Europe is
essentially used up.
But the East — the gorgeous £ast — the fountain-
head of religion, art, civilization, the home of
romance, the abiding place of mysteries yet un-
ravelled, the vast, the mighty, the yet uricompre-
hended — this realm so dear to memory and im-
agination, is still far from being used up. ''Not
every one can visit Corhith," says the old Greek
proverb ; and not every one can dare the dangers
and ftitigues of the desert, crossing it camel-wise,
and encamping on the arid sand beneath the
Arab tent. But to him who is imbued with the
spirit of adventure — who is fearless of camels,
dragomen, sheiks and robbers, simoons and sand-
drifts, the obloquy of the "faithful" cast on all
unbelievers, the chances of the plague, and the
certain horrors of the quarantine, the East holds
inducements for travel which no other land can
supply.
To the Christian, the pilgrimage to the Holy
Land is one that cannot be performed without
profit. It is impossible to visit the scenes once
peopled by those ruder races whose mighty
achievements, whose idyls, pastorals and trage-
dies fill the pages of Scripture; where the
founder of our faiih lived, wrought, spake, and
surtered , without recognizing with a clearer under-
standing the truth of that sacred record, and the
memory of the East, seen with the bodily and
spiritual eyes, is a "joy forever." " So finally
lie in the mind," says the eloquent Howadji, all
lands we have seen. The highest value of travel
is not the accumulation of facts, but the percep-
tion of their significance. It is not the individual
pictures and statues that we see in Italy, nor
the elegance of Paris, nor the comfort of Eng-
land, nor of the splendor of the Orient in detail
which are permanently valuable. It is the
breadth tlie_y give to experience, the more reas-
onable faith tliey inspire in the scope of human
genius, the di-eamy distances of thought with
which they surround life. In the landscape
wliich we enjoy as a varied whole, what do we
care for the branching tree or the winding river,
although we know without tree and river t'^ere
can be no landscape 1 When Italy, and Syria,
and Greece have become thoughts in your mind,
then you have truly travelled.
Back Numbers. — Our readers will please
remember that we can always supply all the
back numbers of the Pictorial from its com-
mencement.
Boston Museum. — Madame Radiuski's voice
is ."^lill the delight of the patrons of this establish-
ment.
Of course not. — The Carpet Bag man says
no one ever tried to reap with an i-cicle !
NATIONAL THEATRE.
The new National Theatre is at last opened to
the public, and on the tide of success is floating
in time's current. The house for the purpose to
wliich it is appropriated, is a most admirable
construction, and will seat very comfortably
2500 persons. The entrances, or lobbies, on
each floor, will give standing room to nearly 600
persons ; and there are eight places for entrance
and exit from the auditory or audience part of
the house. The stage is also furnished with six
entrances from Traverse and Friend Streets.
The stage is 76 feet wide by 66 feet deep, and
29 feet between the wings or side scenes. The
curtain is 40 feet wide by 38 feet high ; proscen-
ium, or portion of the stage from the foot-lights
to the curtain, 13 feet; width of the parquette,
50 feet. The whole theatre is 151 feet deep by
80 feet wide. A building, containing a large
scene room, and nearly all the dressing rooms,
green rooms, etc., is also added and is also part
of the theatre ; it is 50 feet long by 17 feet wide.
The theatre is under the management of Mr.
Joseph Leonard, as principal and lessee; stage
manager, J. B. Wright ; prompter, Henry Lewis ;
treasurer, W. Ellison ; box-office keeper, H. W.
Fenno ; scenic artist, J. E. Hayes ; machinist,
Gill, and leader of orchestra, J. HoUoway.
The company, as far as announced, appears to
be a good one, and a number of most desirable
star engagements have already been made pub-
lic. Success to the National !
MUGGLES AGAIN.
We made a call on a lady friend, the other
day, with Muggles (he's very fond of the ladies).
The usual compliments had hardly been ex-
changed, before Muggles tapped us gently on
the shoulder, and whispered :
" Wh}' is the lady's chair like her dress 1
answer before she turns round."
"Do be quiet, Muggles. You'll make us
ashamed of you."
"No matter. Why is the chair Hke her dress?
can't you guess ?"
"No," we replied, fidgetting for fear he would
be overheard.
" Perfectly plain," said Muggles, quietly ;
" because it is sat-in !"
Muggles was going on to say something about
chair-aids in general, when the lady turned again,
and changed the conversation, by asking if we
had seen little Camille Urso perform.
The late Hon. Henkt Clay. — An eff'ort is
being made in Washington to form an associa-
tion, having for its object the erection of a Na-
tional Monument in honor of the late Henry
Clay. The association is to be composed of
members in every section of the Union, and a
number of members of Congress have announced
their readiness to cooperate in the movement at
the next session of Congress.
" The MLuiELUivE." — AVe wish to call the at-
tention of our readers paiticularly to the excel-
lent story written for us by Major Ben: Perley
Poore, commenced in the present number of the
Pictorial. It is a work of sterling interest and
merit. A fact which the reader will discover at
the outset.
" CoRRiNNE Alm.\nza: or, Tlie Magician of
Seville." — This fine story, by Frederick Hunter,
just completed in the Pictorial, is now published
in book form, and may be had at all the periodi-
cal depots, and at our office.
Gleaso>''s Pictorial — This is the only American work
of the kind now published, and for beauty of .appearance,
neatness of tjpogr.iphy, and finish of engraTiugs, is not
surpassed by any other publication. Gleasons Publish-
ing tlall, in Boston, is a palace, and is well wortli a visit
from anj one desiring to see the sights of the city. — Maine
Fariiitr.
Wants to Sell. — Laraartine is negotiating
with some English capitalists for the sale of his
estate in Asia Minor, presented to him several
years ago by the Sultan. The Sultan may fancy
that he has a continjfent remainder in that estate.
Theatrical. — Mrs. Mowatt is announced to
perform an engagement in Philadelphia, during
November.
Pf.rsonal. — The late Duke of Wellington is
still the absorbing theme of the English press.
Operatic ^Madame Bisbop is about to bring
out her English opera troupe at Niblo's.
Military. — The Boston Light Infantry cele-
brated their anniversary, 18th inst., with full ranks.
In this city, by ReT. Mr. Barrett, Mr. Joseph P. Whal^
to MiFS Georgiana Fay.
By Rev. Mr. Kirk, Mr George Papendick, of Milwaukie,
Wis , to Miss Sarah -Tane Ilobart.
By Rev. Dr. Neale, Mr. Charles Small to Miss Julia P.
Clark.
Bv Rev. Mr. Cilley, Mr. William S. Ring to Miss Rachel
E. Oliver.
By Rev. Mr. Cruft, Mr. John Plumer to ML=s Ellen Jane
Wood worth.
At Roxbury, by Rev. Dr. Putnam, Mr. Thumas Harris
to Miss Kate Dexter.
At Somcrville, by Rev. Mr. Baker, of Lynn, Rev. Edwin
Teele to Miss Sarah E Lord, of Thetford, Yt.
By Rev. Mr. Pope, Mr. Peter R^-id, of Govan, Scotland,
to Miss Jane VVat-son.
At Lowell, by Rev. T. Edson, D. D., Mr. Geo. P. Hayes,
of Mansfield, to Miss M. Ann Cochran, of Quebec.
At Springfield, by Rev. Mr. Bridge, Mr. James Clapp, of
Worcester, to Miss Augusta Meekins. of Conway.
At Worcester, by Rev. Mr. Mann, Mr. Barney Bemis to
Mii-fl Mary A. Valentine
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Girdwood, Mr. Jonathan
Howland, Jr , to Miss Caroline T. Remingtou.
At Bvfield, by Rev. Mr. Tcnney, Mr. John F. Twombly,
of New York, to Miss iusan K. Merrill, of Georgetown.
At Providence, R. I., by Rev. Dr. Crocker, Dr. Samuel
L. Abbott, of Boston, to Mi.s3 Eliav Jones Hoppin.
At Stratford, Ct., by Rev. Mr. Paddock, Mr. George C.
Dunbar, of New York, to Miss June V. Shelton.
At Brooklyn, N. Y,, Mr. Charles N. Emerson, of Great
Earrington, Ms., to Miss Jeannie M. Fobes.
In this city, Mr. Frederic W. Edea, 35 ; Mrs. Sarah W.
Kelley, 31 ; Miss Mary Brimmer Warner, 26 ; Mrs. Lydia
Gorham, of Barnstable, 64; Mrs. Temperance Webber, 58 ;
Mrs, Deborah Lerow, 63; Mi-s,-! Mary Walker, 67; Mrs.
Sarah Kiley, 84; Miss Jane Claudine IIodgman,28; Mr.
Joseph Muncreef, 87 : Romanus Emerson, Esq., 70 ; Mr.
Alexander Houaten, 65.
At Roxbury, Emily R , wife of John A. Hanson, Esq.
At Chelsea, Harriet, wife of Dr. R. H. Cary.
At Medford, Mrs. Phebe Porter, 87.
At Maiden, Mr, John Sprague, 71.
At Watertown, Miss Eleanor Wheeler, 24,
At Dedham, Miss Sarah Farrington, 87.
At Waltham, Mrs. Elizabeth Brookings, 65.
At Salem. Mr. Solomon Emerson, 56.
At E:ist Weymouth, Mr. Peter Whitmarsh, 79.
At Gloucester, Miss Lois Bray, 18.
At Taunton, George Mercy, Esq , 75.
At Westminster, Georgiann P., aged 2, and Emerett L.,
aged 4 years, only children of Mr. Thomas L. Eaton.
At Dighton, Mr. Eliakim Briggs, 87.
At Kaynham, Mrs. Lurane White, 76.
At Marlboro', Daniel Stevens, Esq., 81.
At Fall River, Mr. Henry Potter, 37.
At Truro, Capt. Levi Stevens, 73.
At Worcester, Abiel Jaques, Esq.. 72.
At Portland, Me., Mii-s Clara C. Kimball, 17.
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Mrs. Eliza A. Milne, 42.
At Washington, D. C, Serj. Maj. Yenerando Puliz2d, 57.
At Chicopee, Dr. David Bemia, 54.
At Plymouth, Eng., Mrs. Catherine Frances Macready.
— AND —
LITERAHY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL
A Itecord of the heantifid and uscfid in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of not^ible
events of the day. Its coliunns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEBICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
■well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper la
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
■with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
not:ible objects, current evtnts in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note iu the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate port£;aits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of bcautil'ul scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, M"ith numerous Fpecimens from the animal king-
Uoin, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It i.^
printed on fine satin-surface pnpcr, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expres.?ly for it; — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
page;. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fu:id of amusement it allbrds, and the rich array of origi-
nnt miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest'and
highest toncof moi-.ility, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
Eh;it i-Si evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE VOLTTME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
ISV.\.RIABI,V IN' ADV.\SCE,
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the f r ;t of January and July ; thus uuiking two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen p:igofl each.
^Zr" One copy of the Flag of our Union, and ono copy
of the PicToiuAL DaAWixu-RooM Compamon, one jei'f)
for S5 00.
\Cr' The Pictorial Dr.a, wing -Room CoMPAyioy may be
obt:iined at any of the periodical depots throug lout t!iu
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single topy
Published every S.vturbav, by
F. GLEASON, Eostox, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS-
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH, 110 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLUK & CO., Ill Baltimore St.,Baltunorp.
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28(1
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAWINCx ROOIM COMPANION.
[Written forOleoHOD^H Plctorlnl.]
THE GEM OF THE TROPICS.
BY MATUaiN M. IIALLOU.
Orecn IhIo of tho oconn, bright gom of the soa,
Tbu la,Ht " Koli-f-noor " in Ciintilo'fl puling crown ;
O would tliy lono Btar triuiiiphaot might bo,
And " Moro " no lougor on llborty frown.
Bright land of the Run, the faircHt yot known,
Exuberant in frulta, and sweet food for tho beo;
One plant in thy soil ia yet to be sown,
The broad-8p rending branches of Llborty'H tree.
[Written for Gleanon's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. X.
BY RBV. F. W. HOLLAND.
THE DEAD SEA.
The Dead Sea is about six hours from Jerusalem, Jordan
about eight; remembering that these distances are a liard scram-
Iile over precipitous rocks, neither of these objects of painful in-
terest to the Christian pilgrim can be more than about twenty
miles from the city. The inviolable *' custom of the country" is
to hire the right of way from the Arab Sheik of Jericho for about
five dollars per head; the contract, which is sealed and deposited
at some consulate, rendering your guide responsible for damages,
should any occur on the way. Besides the attendance of this
official character — whose dashing yellow turban had one end that
hung loosely as a sort of flag, when the wind caught it up as he
pushed his I)lood mare into a gallop — travellers are often decoyed
into taking a guard of soldiers, a tent and various other super-
fluities. One sumpter-mule was more than enough for my friend
and myself; our servant, who attended us half to gratify his de-
vout feelings by the first sight of these hallowed places, went rath,
er for his own pleasure than ours, and carried no arms ; and al-
most the only precaution we had taken was to leave everything of
value in the safe keeping of the convent. The real danger I
suppose to be thievery and murder. But, except one defile
through the most banditti-looking rocks which man ever crossed,
I do not believe there is any danger any part of the way : and
here, a party of good size, who kept compactly together and did
not loiter, would be in no peril even without the safeguard of the
Bedouin chief. The Arab guns have commonly nothing better
than flint locks, and so often miss fire, that their owners do not
care to measure them with our o\vn percussion caps.
The route to " Lot's Sea," as the Arabs call it, follows the bed
of the Kedron through an exceedingly wild and mountainous
country, occupied by nothing but a few Arab tents, and their
wild-looking goats. lu less than five miles from Jerusalem you
begin to ascend a road hewn out of the live rock, with a parapet
on the lower side, which leads to tlie strong castle of the Santa
Saba monks, who made this road as a mercy to pilgrims. Forti-
fied by a letter from the Greek patriarch, we besieged the low iron
postern for some time — perhaps there was no brother at leisure to
decipher our letter of introduction. At last the bolts were slowly
drawn, and we were ushered one by one into a spacious arched
saloon, where, reclining upon the rugs which were to be our couch
at night, we were first refreshed by a cordial glass of gin, manu-
factured by the friars themselves, and a single handful of raisins ;
next, the egg-shell cup of thick Mocha peculiar to the East, with-
out milk, strong and fragrant ; then, after some pause, the dinner
of rice soup, eggs, wine and oranges — neither meat nor woman
being allowed to enter these very holy walls — here again, came
the one glass of sphit, and another upon our visit to the chapel
and within the sanctuary itself.
St. Saba is a wonder of wonders to all Americans. Amidst
this howling wilderness, in a frightful gorge of the sterile moun-
tain, stands this baronial castle, with everything but its draw-
bridge and moat, having two strong towers, lofty walls of stone
making part and parcel with the solid rock on whicii they stand,
and in the centre an ancient chapel, surrounded by buttresses
nearly as large as itself, and able to serve in time of need as a
citadel within a citadel. Saba was a monk of the fourth century
of eminent sanctity and belligerent orthodoxy. When not forced
into the arena of controversy by the heresies of his day, he lived
in such odor as a hermit, that multitudes were drawn after him
into this wildest of wildernesses, by the charm of his self-sacrifice,
and the fame of his miracles. Fourteen thousand anchorites are
said to have lived around him in these little burrows wliich you
see on either mountain-side — and I could well credit the number,
even without the testimony of a heap of skulls piled up reverently
in a kind of cavern-chapel. Now, that all the romance is over —
thoueh the strict discipline remains — and the hermit life of an en-
thusiastic age is quite obsolete, and this impregnable pile shelters
once in a month a few pilgrims, instead of serving as the watch-
tower of a legion of saints, the convent is always well filled.
There are many memories of suffering about the place. Some-
times they must have endured famine; once, at least, they were
all massacred by the Arabs in the seventh century ; and, until
these few years, they have lived since their founder died. A, I).,
532, in peril of martyrdom. Upon the walls they showed us the
piles of loose stones ready 1o be hurled upon an enemy, and in
the principal tower was a signal by which the watchman could
rouse the wliole brotherhood at once; and they themselves told
us that they should have lived on in Ihe same terror but for Il)ra-
blRi IWip,. And thron^^b the embarrassment of their Greek talk
wo Icnrnt that thoy maintained a sort of friendwhip with their old
enemy, by giving the Arabs occasionally some of their excellent
breail, so that the lion may be said to " lie down with the lamb"
ut last. Miss Martineau supposed them to posscs.s some inesti-
mable manuscripts which arc kept sacred from common eyes.
Their little lilirary, evidently not often dlsturlicd, was freely
thrown open at our request, and proved to be just what was to
have been expected, chiefly the f.itliers of the Greek Cliurch,
cased in grim looking parchment. Should their eagle's nest
be stormed again, these musty old tomes might come to no bad
end in the shape of wadding for the ancient muskets in the room
above.
The convent church is lined with tinsel, and hung with the
coarsest heads of saints, presented by the emperor of Russia, whose
taste for painting is worse than barbarous. The massive building
almost hangs over a precipice four hundred feet deep, where none
but wild beasts ever pass. In the early morning, as I paced the
pavement, worn smooth by sandalled feet, and caught the matin
chant as it was echoed from thousands of mountain caves to this
heart of rock, from whose centre it seemed to burst out as a live
spring, I could not but feel anew the power of faith in retaining
fifty voluntary exiles within this awful solitude. They seemed
entirely dead to the world — dead as their founder, whose bones
repose in a little circular shrine in their midst. They asked us
no questions, they stared upon us from no sly corners, they did
not even care to talk us into a good opinion of themselves; the
three or four with whom we came in contact were courteous, but
not inquisitive, neither seeking nor shunning our questions and
our visits. Impossible and incredible as their life may appear to
us in New England, it may be explained no doubt partly into the
solemnizing impression of the Holy Land upon Oriental imagina-
tions, quickened by a peculiar religious training into an admira-
tion of this sort of living martyrdom. As these men work hard
upon the roads as well as fare poorly, as — except the generous
liquor which they distil — all creature comforts arc put far from
them, as their abundant hospitality has often been the saving of
life, I cannot comprehend the spirit which would whisper a scan-
dal or point a sarcasm against such simple-hearted hosts.
A few hours of constant descent brought us upon the white,
gravelly shore of the Dead Sea, where nothing but a thorn-bush
or two is living, and a few dried boughs from the Jordan have
been thrown up by the waves. Even in January, the air was
warm and sulphury — a change not at all surprising from the tem-
perature of Jerusalem, considering that we had descended three
thousand feet below the level of Mount Zion, and were actually
beneath the Mediterranean Sea. In this season of rains, when
the Jordan pours in a full and swift flood, the water is less strong-
ly tainted than in midsummer; still, no medicine was ever so nau-
seous to any palate ; and upon the skin, I found it to be burning,
sticky and heating. Magnesia and soda arc the two principal
salts ; these with lime make about twenty-five per cent, of the
mixture. Yet, it is clear and without any trace of animalcula;;
as lifeless a mass as molten lead. The average width, as we
know by the thorough exploration under Capt. Lynch, is about
nine miles ; the length , forty. The bottom is the most remarkable
in the world, one part averaging only thirteen feet of depth, the
other thirteen hundred — as if some vast earthquake had swallowed
so much land and caused the deep waves to roll over what had
been life and joy. The bitumen found along the shore, the op-
pressive heat and the earthquakes which still occur, show the vol-
canic character of the place. The danger of disease is from the
Egyptian sultriness, which scorches the feet upon the beach even
in April, and causes the Arabs to think strangers insane who lin-
ger around its feverish shores. Fortunately, every question of
any interest is settled now by the American Expedition, and no
more lives need be thrown away upon this silent tomb of the
guilty past. The pillar has even been found again upon the
Usdom-hill, at the head of an. abrupt chasm, which Josephus and
Clement of Home fancied to be Lot's wife : and Dr. Robinson
seems to have determined the " apples of Sodom " to be the osiier,
or botanically the Asclepias gigantca, a sort of milk-weed tree,
whose orange-like fruit on being pressed bursts and leaves a small
quantity of fine silk, which the Arabs twist up for their guns, and
prefer them to the ordinary match. The stereotype-superstition
that birds would drop dead in flying over the lake is refuted by
the fact that — though very rare, because there is nothing green to
invite them into the neighborhood — the American party repeated-
ly saw wild ducks even floating at their ease upon the surface of
the water. The wonderful buoyancy of the sea has not been ex-
aggerated ; it is very difficult to keep one's feet do\^^l in the waves,
and quite impossible to sink — horses have even rolled over at
times upon their sides, and been very much alarmed at the strange
condition of things. The metal boats employed by Capt. Lynch
were polished like new coin by their own motion, and the stroke
of the waves in a storm was said to ring like a hammer, while a
book dropped accidentally into the briny mass could not after-
wards be dried. Of course, nothing is ordinarily seen upon or
around the waters, and nothing heard save the sound of St. Sa-
ba's convent bell. If vSodom and Gomorrah lie entombed heic,
there never was a more impressive burial place — even in the glare
of a most brilliant moon, its whole look was deathly ; and, at
night, or when the thunder rolls and the earthquake heaves the
steaming cauldron, it would not take much imagination to believe
it indeed the final abode of the condemned.
The memories of childhood, the long, far away days of boy-
hood, the mother's love and prayers, the voice of a departed plav-
fellow, the ancient church and schoolmaster in all their green and
hallowed associations come upon the heart in the nutunm time of
life, like the passage of a pleasantly remembered dream, and east
a ray of their own piirily and sweetness over it,
[Written for 01ea«on'fl Pictorial.]
AUTOGRAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED DTDrVCDUALS.
No. JX.
BY WM. EDWAUD KNOWLBB.
The autograph of Cihrt.es Dickens is more picturesque than
that of any otiicr living author. It has all the unique uniformity
of the old German text ; and is as distinctly legible as it is grace-
ful. There is a peculiarity in his style that is beyond imitation ;
lie writes in a sphere wholly his own. Yet he has never produced
anything new, but rather lengthens his thoughts into sentences,
and his ideas into chapters. He spreads a few thoughts over a
great surface of paper, and extends them to an unnatural length.
This quality is clearly seen in his signature.
<f:::^2i^'Z:>€L
T. S. Arthur has won a brilliant reputation as a novelist.
He possesses talent, superior talent, and employs it to the best
advantage. He writes to instruct the heart and head. No one,
however dull, but rises from the pei-usal of bis temperance tales a
better man, and strengthened in the resolution to live a temperate
and respectable life. The signature is, to all appearance, carefully
studied.
q/ , ^ • ^H^-S^tA^^
The late John Q. Adams has written some beautiful things,
both in prose and verse. Nor has any lover of good poetry for-
gotten his " Wants of Man," a poem of considerable merit. To
be convinced that he possessed genius of the highest order one
need but to look at his autograph. Though it wavers in every
line, still it has a decisive and firm appearance.
©/&>*-a..,.^ C^^ ' cTir^i
The autograph of the late President Polk is beautiful and
picturesque in the extreme. Yet his chirography is exceedingly
commonplace. A man who writes such a hand, will never get
far astray from right, nor will he, unaided, ascend to the highest
eminence among his fellow-men. The signature is a fair speci-
men of his chirography.
John Tyler. — The ex-president writes a very peculiar and
characteristic hand ; it evinces an impulsive and unfonned pur-
pose, which is a truthful peculiarity of the man. There is little
method in the arrangement of his manuscript, which in body ap-
pears careless and unformed.
The chirography of the Hon. Lewis Cass resembles strongly
that of Edward Everett. He has won for himself a lasting repu-
tation, both as a statesman and author. At one time he was a
regular contributor to the " Southern Literary Messenger," and
has written many creditable pieces for the "Detroit Miscellany,"
edited by I. K. Wellman.
^Jl^. QA.a-^'i^'in^
i^-^'Z^
Dr. J. H. Robinson is well known to the readers of the Pic-
torial as a regular contributor to its columns. He wields a versa-
tile and industrious pen, but his chirography is indistinct and hur-
ried. Dr. Robinson has successfully asserted his title to the name
of poet, as well as an entertaining novelist.
llU
5r yC^^*^
James T. Fields. — This young American poet has taken high
rank in literature, and understands the secret of success and ap-
preciation. He docs not write too o/ieii ; what we see from his pen
is finished and artistic. He has just returned from a European
tour. Mr. Fields's handwriting exhibits much of the finish ob-
servable in his composition.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
287
NAUTICAL DISCOVERY.
It may not be generally known that the lali-
tude of a ship cannot be taken if the sun and
horizon be not both visible at the same time, and
that the artificial horizon used on land to obtain
the latitude of a place, cannot be used at sea,
owing to the constant motion of the ship destroy-
ing the horizontal surface. It is stated that Mr.
Brinsden, of Mont St. Hilaire, Canada East, has
perfected a mode for using the artificial horizon
at sea, so that it is perfectly uninfluenced by the
motion of the ship, and the altitude may be tak-
en at all times when the sun is visible. Such a
discovery will tend much to the security of ves-
sels, the preservation of the lives of our hardy
sailors, and must command the attention of ship
owners.
CUBA.
The disaffection, at last accounts, was growing
stronger every day, and the acts of Canales, the
captain-general, had been openly denounced.
Arrests of suspected persons continued to be
made daily. The police force had been increased,
and domiciliary visits were of frequent occur-
rence. So fearful are the authorities of the least
outbreak, that scarcely a vessel reaches that port
which is not immediately boarded bj' one or
more officers, and thoroughly searched. That
this state of things cannot long continiie is ver}'
evident, and those who have looked on with apa-
thy before now, begin to feel aroused at the das-
tardly conduct of the Spanish authorities.
THE NEIV COMET.
The comet recently discovered by Mr. Pirsson
was examined on the evening of the 12th inst.,
from the Cambridge Observatory. It was still
invisible to the naked eye, but in the telescope
appeared quite bright, having a good nucleus and
a very perceptible tail of about one-half a degree.
Its general course appears to be to the south-
west, at the rate of about a degree a day. It
may be looked for at 9 o'clock, P. M., about 8
degrees below the pole star, a little to the west.
A common spy-glass will show it.
Suicidal Attempt. — A day or two since, at
the navy yard, Chartestown, a man named Pear-
son, corporal of the Marines, attempted to de-
stroy his life by taking laudanum. A stomach-
pump and an emetic interfered with the opera-
tion, and he is now alive, a " wiser," and, it is to
be hoped, a " better man."
Miss Catherine Hayes' Concert. — Her
last concert in this section of the country, pre-
vious to her departure for California, was given
on Tuesday evening, the 12th inst., before a
Ijynn audience. She was greeted by a full
house, and, in closing, she sung " Erin Is my
home," with a peculiar and touching pathos.
Japan Expedition. — Orders have been is-
sued at Washington to fit up the Vermont, Ma-
cedonian, and several other ships of the line, for
the Japan expedition, which is to be prosecuted
with all reasonable dispatch.
Liberality. — The City Council of Cincin-
nati has appropriated S500 to the widow Strow-
der, whose husband was killed some time since,
while in the service of the city.
Masonic Institute. — The Masonic Frater-
nity of Aberdeen, Mississippi, have taken mea-
sures to establish a Masonic Male Institute in
that city.
MosiCAL. — The editor of the New York Mir-
ror suggests that the new music hall in this city
be called "Beethoven Hall."
Queer how it's done. — Lynn makes nearly
5,000,000 pairs of shoes a year, and yet has but
15,000 souls in the city.
Safe, after all. — The man who was carried
away by his feelings, has returned safe.
Gone Home. — Billy Bowlegs has returned to
his native everglades in Florida.
A Brave Man. — One who isn't afraid to wear
old clothes, until he is able to pay for new ones.
A. good Rule. — Against the fickleness of
fortune oppose a bold heart.
< ■^■». fc
High. — Hay is selling in Boston at $25 per ton.
UlaijsiiJe ©atljcrinjs.
The wife of Mr. Maci-eady, the actor, is dead.
Columbus, the discoverer of America, was a
weaver.
The total population of the city of New Or-
leans is 145,449.
The Artesian well at Louisville has been sunk
to the depth of 800 feet.
Beef cattle are very scarce in Louisville, and
command high prices.
The Seminole Indians will emigrate west the
present season..
The telegraph wire is stretched across the
Ohio river at Cincinnati.
Twenty mad dogs have been shot at Reading
during the past few days.
Lecount, sentenced to be hung for murder,
will be executed in Cincinnati on Friday, the
26th of November.
A Southern Cotton Planters' Convention is
to be held at Macon, Ga., on the third Monday
of November.
Thomas Jefferson Sunderland, the Canadian
agitator, died in Nebraska Territory, on tlic 7ih
of September.
A firm at Wheeling, Virginia, have already
engaged forty thousand hogs to be slaughtered
at their establishment this winter.
Mr. Matson, of Bourbon county, Kentucky,
has imported a Durham bull that cost him over
$1000. He is a rare specimen.
In Savannah a physician of high standing re-
ports that he has never known so much sickness
as exists in that city now.
The population of Paris is 1,000,000, and it
has 10,000 beds in hospitals ; but London, whose
population is 2,000,000, has only 5000 beds.
Mrs. Venable, aged eighty-two, a resident of
Itliaca, New York, committed suicide by hang-
ing herself from a beam in her chamber.
Fourteen vessels have left the United States
for the Australian gold mines. Nearly two thou-
sand emigrants have gone out in them.
A woman named Bedwell was drowned in
Oswego river, last week, while endeavoring lo
save her child, who Iiad fallen into the water.
The caterpillars and boll worm have made
their appearance in Bager county, Ga.,and have
caused considerable damage to the cotton crop.
Two men were killed on Tuesday of last week,
near Rochester, on the Pittsburgh and Cleve-
land Railroad, by standing on the cars while go-
ing under a bridge.
A highly respectable lady of Dedhani, Mass.,
who took a prominent part in the late Spiritual
Convention in Boston, has become insane and
been taken to the hospital.
There is a movement in New York to get up
a third, or City Reform party — independent of
national politics. A call has been issued for a
mass meeting, to deliberate upon the subject.
At least three thousand marriages are celebra-
ted every day, and there is not a moment, from
one year's end to anotlier, in which the delightful
ceremony is not somewhere coming off'.
Abel Blood, of Goshen, New Hampshire, who,
_with Benjamin Pierce, the father of Frank,
fought in the Revolution, died on the 19th ult.,
aged 94 years. He fought bravely in eight great
battles.
Two Irish children were recently boxed up
and sent as baggage by railroad from Manchester
to Liverpool. Fortunately the box was placed on
top of the car, whereby the poor children were
not suffocated.
Some published articles on the milk trade of
New York, show the causes of much of the sum-
mer sickness in that city. The articles have cre-
ated some stir among the manufacturers and
owners of distillery-slop-fed cows.
Mr. James Wairen, the collector on the Balti-
more Railroad, was killed by being thrown acci-
dentally under the wheels as the cars were leav-
ing Broad and Prime. Mr. Warren was 36
years old. He leaves a wife and six children,
and was highly respected.
There is in New York ciiy a milk establish-
ment, and another in Williami^burg, which fur-
nish daily for consumption between six and
seven thousand gallons, or near thirty thousand
quarts. The former contains thirteen hundred
cows; the latter twelve hundred.
A shocking accident happened at New York
recently. A rock from a blasting broke through
the roof of a house on the corner of Oth avenue and
25th street, and killed a child that was sleeping
in a cradle, besides dreadfully injuring a sister
who was watching him. The person who fired
the blast has fied.
Mrs. Herschell C. Benson, of Palmer, Massa-
chusetts, ejected from her stomach, on tlie 27th
ult. a live red evet, or water lizard, nearly three
inches in length. It is supposed that she carried
the animal in her stomach about three years, she
having during that time suffered much distress
in the stomach, with occasional spasms and a
peculiar appetite.
At the New York State Fair, the highest prize,
for the best mowing machine, and the second
prize as a reaper, was awarded to John H. Man-
ny, of Illinois. There were a dozen competitors,
including McCormiek and Hussey's, but Manny's
was considered superior on account of the per-
fection of its cutting apparatus, and some other
appliances, by whicli it would serve both as a
mower and reaper.
Jofcign iMisrellan^.
Parliament will meet early in November.
Five of the Madrid papers have ceased to ap-
pear, their publishers being in prison.
According to the late census of France there
are nearly a million and a half more women than
men in that countiy.
A Berlin correspondent mentions that Lowell
Mason has purchased for America the valuable
music library of Rink, the organist.
Thirty -six live rattlesnakes have been import-
ed into Liverpool by M Van Gordon, who
caught them on the Alleghany mountains.
A great festival and public rejoicing has taken
place on occasion of the opening of the first dry
dock ever built in the kingdom of Naples.
In Prussia they have been fining a post-ofiice
clerk for endeavoring to discover the contents of
a letter, by looking too closely into the envelope.
The London papers are rabid against Capt.
Jewett's expedition to the Lobos, saying it is a
deep-laid scheme for the annexation of Peru.
Madame Pulszky, since her return to Europe,
has completed an account of the residence and
travels of Kossuth and his companions in the
United States.
The British bark Thetis arrived at Honolulu,
July 21st, with a second cargo of coolies, one
hundred in number, contra'jted for by planters
and others at the islands.
Francisco and Rosa Madiai, of Florence, at
the age of fifty years, have been condemned for
reading the gospel, to four years at the galleys.
Their prince has rejected their appeal for mercy.
The Duke and Duchess de Montpensier lately
attended some religious services at Chipioni, in
Spain, and liberally presented the Virgin with a
magnificent dress of tissue of gold and white
lace and a silver crown.
It is said that Louis Napoleon will return to
Paris as emperor, and'that the proclamation will
be made at Tours, the ancient capital of Tou-
rienne. His reception at Toulon, Avignon and
Marseilles was enthusiastic. He was met by the
envoys of Piedmont, Naples, and the Pope.
From the Port Philip mines the accounts are
favorable. Severe fioods bad been experienced
in many districts, and communication had been
interrupted. The anti-convict movement is car-
ried on with energy — another public meeting on
the subject had been held at Sydney.
One of the ceremonies at the late Paris fetes
was the portioning by lot of fourteen couples to
be united in the bonds of matrimony. There
were over t'lelce thouscwd offered for the dowry,
of whom 50.3 had already been married once,
314 twice, 6 three times, and 4 four times !
J?ok£r'3 Subget.
0anbs of (Solir.
Deeds are fruits — words are but leaves.
You will never repent of being patient
and sober.
.... Education is theproper employment, not
only of our early years, but of our whole lives.
.... We always overrate the happiness of
others, and underrate the means of our own.
.... Peace is the evening star of the soul, as
virtue is its sun, and the two are never far apart.
.... He who envies me, makes my virtue his
vice, and my happiness his torment.
.... The love of society is natural, but the
choice of our company is a matter of virtue and
prudence.
All other things being transitory and per-
ishing, true wisdom is to think of etemiiy, and
to a good man the best of philosophies.
.... The marks of good and evil to be found
in man's natural state, evince both that he has
descended from perfection, and to perfection may
return.
The soul without action is like an instru-
ment not played upon, or like a ship in port,
knowing no process while it stays there, but that
of decay.
Fortunately it is not in our power to
commit most kinds of sin continually. A man
cannot break his word, the marriage vow, or his
neighbor's strong-box, every minute.
.... What the impulse of genius is to the
great, the instinct of vocation is to the mediocre
— in every man there is a magnet — in that thing
which the man can do best, there is a loadstone.
.... Women always show more taste in
adorning others than in adorning themselves;
and the reason is, that their persons are like
their hearts — they read another*s better than
their own.
.... False men's words and deeds remind us
of thunder and lightning on the stage, which,
united in heaven, in the theatre are generated in
opposite corners of the house, and by different
operators.
.... That is not the best sermon which makes
the hearers go away talking to one another, and
praising the speaker, but which makes them go
away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to
be alone. — Bishop Burnet.
.... This life will not admit of equality ; but
surely that man who thinks he derives conse-
quence and respect from keeping others at a
distan ce, is as base- min ded as the coward
who shuns the enemy from the fear of an
attack.
The rage for mronautics in England, just now,
is called halloonacy.
Is it practicable for square-rigged vessels to
adopt the system of great-circle sailing '?
The Lantern says that Gen. Scott is diligently
preparing for the next March.
Voltaire said of M'Ue de 'Livrj : " She was so
beautiful, that I rose before her like a point of
admiration."
The more a man loves preserves, the more he
is attached to the women. And why shouldn't
he be ? Aint they both sweetmeats, say ?
There is a man in Philadelphia so thin that it
is thought he will never pay the debt of nature,
but will dry up and be blown away !
If a spoonful of yeast will raise fifty cents
worth of flour, how much will it take to raise
funds enough to buy another barrel with '? An-
swer may be handed in over the fence.
Voltaire, speaking of law, said : " I never was
but twice in my life completely on the verge of
ruin ; first, when I lost a law-suit, and, secondly,
when I gained one."
Somebody, who writes more truthfully than
poetically, says : "An angel without money is
not thought so much of now-a-days as a devil
with a bag full of guineas."
"A Practical Schoolmistress" says, in the
Educational Times: " It would be impossible
for me to state how often the question has been
directly put to me by mothers, ' Can you make a
sti/lisk girl V "
One of the ballet girls connected with Niblo's
Theatre, is so light and fairy-like, that she fre-
quently sleeps all night in a water-lily. In
Paris she once danced on a platform composed
of cobwebs and moonbeams — the former answer-
ed for boards, and the latter for the timbers.
Lord Gadsby, over the entrance of a beautiful
grotto, had caused this inscription to be placed :
"Let nothing enter here but what is good."
Doctor Reanel, the master of the temple, who
was walking over the ground, with much point
asked ; " Then, where does your lordship enter V
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictorial Drawino
Room Oompasiok elegimtly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and ilimnined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAININQ NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all pai'ts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful "Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast jimount of originsil Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Kecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustratioiLs.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three DcUars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOK,
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, ivritten expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it ia strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature ■will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOR THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acltnowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the daj",
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offermg the entire sheet, which ia of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and iier-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union,
TEEMS TO STJBSCBIBEBS.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
8 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " " 6 00
8 » " 11 00
16 " ' 20 00
One copy of the Fl.a,q of odr Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Dr.\ wing-Room Companion, one year, for So 00.
[C^ Invariablj' in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
ITJ^ -'ili orders should be addre.'ised. POST paid, to the
PUBLISaER OF THE FLAG OF OCR UNION.
♦#* TJie Flag can be obtained at any of the newspaper
depots in the United States^ and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUR CENT3 per sing'.e copy.
F. GLEASON,
Pdblibuer and Proprietor, Boston, Mab».
288
TtLEASOX'S PICTOPJAT. DUAWINU POOM (COMPANION.
ORGANIZATION OF THE SNAKE.
Wliat gcolof^y and anatomy have uiifolclcMl of
the nature of serjients, in rc^^ard to their present
condition, amounts to this: that their parts are
as cxquisiteljMulinsted to the form of the whole,
and to their hiihits anil Fphere of life, as is the
orfijanization of any animal whieh we call MU|)e-
rior to them. It is true the serpent has nolinihs,
yet it <-an ontelimh the monkey, outswim tlie fish,
outleap the jerhoa, and, suddenly loosing the
coils of its crouching spiral, it can spring into
the ail* and seize the bird upon the wing; thus
all these creatures fall its prey. The si^rpcnt
has iR'iiher hands nor talons, yet it can outwres-
tle the athlcle, and crush the tiger in its fohls.
ypiir from Heking u\> its fund as it glides along,
tiie serpent lifts up its criislH'd prey, and presents
it, grasped in the di-atli-roll as in the hatid.totho
gaping, slimedropi)ing mouth. It is truly won-
derful to sec the work of hands, feet, fins, per-
formed hy a simple modification of the vertehral
column in n mnltijilieation of its joints, with mo-
liility of its rihs. As serpents move chiefly on
the surface of the earth, their danger is greatest
from pi'essnre or hlowsfrom above; oil the joints
arc accordingly fashioned to resist yielding, and
to sustain pressure in a vertical direction ; there
is no natural undulation of the body upwards
and downwards, it is jjermittcd only from side
to side. So closely and compactly do the ten
pairs of the joints between each side of the two
or three hundred vertebrre fit together, that even
in a relaxed and dead state the body cannot he
twisted, except in a series of side coils. Of this
the reader may assure himself by an experiment
on a dead and supple snake. Let him lay it
straight along a level surface; seize the end of
the tail, and, by a movement of rotation between
the thumb and finger, endeavor to screw the
snake into spiral coils; before he can produce a
siufile turn, the whole of the long and slender
body will roll over as rigidly as if it were a stick.
When we call to mind the anatomical structure
of the skull, the singular density and structure
of the bones of the cranium strike us as a special
provision against fracture and injury to the head.
When we contemplate the remarkable manner
in which all the bones of the skull overlap one
another, we cannot but discern a special adapta-
tion in the structure of serpents to their com-
monly prone position, and a provision for the
danscrs to which they were subject from falling
bodies, and the tread of heavy beasts — so says
Professor Owen. We are aware that their mo-
tion is rapid in some species, and is accomplished
by means of the sinuosities, or folds, which they
form with their bodies. When in a state of re-
jjose, they us^^aIly dispose themselves in coils,
with the head in the centre ; and many are en-
abled to spring to a certain distance by the sud-
den unfolding of these coils. Serpents are dts-
tiiute of movable eyelids, or distinct tympanums.
All have teeth, but they serve onlyto retain their
f"od, and are not adapted to the purpose of mas-
tication. They arc long, very sharply pointed,
and incline backwards. — ExcJiange paper.
MUt:ZZIN CALLING TO PRAYERS. [Soe "Tuikf-y and the Turl:s," page 278 ]
SWEDISH EMIGRANTS.
A few days since some three hundred Swedish
emigrants arrived at this port from Gottenburg.
They are what is called Jenny Lind Swedes,
being from the better class of agricultural laljor-
ers in their own country, and all possessing
more or less ample means foi- forming a pcrn)a-
neut and comfortable settlement in. this country.
They are all Protestants, as we were informed
by Mr. P. Frederick Williston, who transacts
their business for ihcm, and sees them well on
their way for the far west. Seldom does a body
of emigrants make so fair an appearance as this
delegation of the countrymen of Jenny Lind, the
sweet songstress, who greeted us from their
fatherland. They were all of them very well
dressed, hale and hearty in their appearance,
and there were some fifty women in the ranks as
they passed our office. Having seen in former
numbers of the Pictorial, whirh tiicy have met
with in their own r^iuntry, rcpresentulions of par-
ties of their countrymen, who have arrived
in this city heretofore, they incpiircd for our
olfice, and when passing it, hblted, faced tlie
building, and gave us three cheers. Success lo
those hardy emigrants. Our artist ha^ given a
very wpirited and correct view of them below, as
they appeared passing our oHicc. The view is a
perspective one, looking down Tremont Street,
from the Tremont House, towards the Common.
There is room enough and to spare in our west-
ern country for all such emigrants as these. Wc
grieve to see paupers, and such like, arriving
from abroad ; but when we behold a body of in-
telligent and well-found emigrants like these,
arrived on our shores, we rejoice to extend to
them the honest hand of welcome. The party,
represented below, took passage at once by the
Western Railroad, via Albany and Buffalo, for
the rich agricultural lands lo be found westward.
[IVritten for Glcason'H Pietoriiil.]
TRUTH AND FRIENDSHIP.
BT CAROLIKB A. DAYDBN.
The heart that's noble, kind and true,
Ni-ode Dot ttie glnre of wealth to prove it;
And purely wberenoe'er we find
A gtni po rare, we well may love it.
Thy pppech is blunt, thy words bo free,
Thy proud and independent spirit,
Are jUBt f!0 ma^y proofs to me,
rtTio know thee -well, of ntcrling meiit.
Then deem it not an idle jcsf,
That flattery's hand would iiahtly proffer;
But (live it room within t'ly breast,
Tia truth and friendship T would offer.
LOVE OF FLOWERS.
Tn all countries women love flowers ; but it is
only in the bosom of plenty that tiicy conceive
the idea of embellishing their dwellings with
them. The cultivation of flowers among the
peasantry, indicates a revolution in all their feel-
ings. It is a delicate pleasure, whirh makes its
way through coarse organs ; it is the sense of the
beautiful, which is awakened ; colors, forms,
odors, are perceived for the first time, and these
charming objects have at last spectators. Those
who have travelled in the country can testify,
that a rose-tree under the window, a honeysuckle
around the door of a cottage, are always a good
omen to a weary traveller. The hand that cul-
tivates flowers is not closed against the supplica-
tions of the poor, or the wants of the stranger.
Flowers are the alphabet of angels, wherewith
they write on hills and plains mysterious truths.
A COMPANY OF SWEDISH EMIGRANTS PASSING OUR OFFICKj BOUND TO THE WEST
F. GLBASON,
I CORNER BROMTLELD
I AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1852.
s2 per volttme.
10 cts. single.
Vol. III. No. 19.— Whole No. 71.
NEWTON THEOLOGICAIi INSTITUTION.
BeloTV we give a fine view of this seminary,
under the patronage of the Baptist denomination.
It was founded in Newton, in 1825, and was in-
corporated by the legislature the next year. In
1828, a brick building, three stories in height,
besides a basement storj', eighty-five feet long,
and forty-nine feet wide, was erected, at an ex-
pense of about $10,000. Three convenient
houses have been since erected for the professors.
In the mansion-house are accommodations for
the steward's family, a dining hall, a chapel, and
recitation rooms. The regular course of study
occupies three years. There are two vacations
of six weeks each; one from the last Wednesday
but one in August, the other from the last Wed-
nesday in March. The seminary is about seven
miles from Boston, in a very healthy position,
being beautifully situated on an elevated bill,
which commands an extensive prospect of Bos-
ton, and of the rich country around. In the
central part of the town there are many elegant
country residences. Newton lies in a bend of
Charles Kiver, which forms its boundary on
three sides, and, by two falls of considerable ex-
tent, affords an extensive water power. There
are two manufacturing villages at these falls.
The Upper Falls village is nine miles from Bos-
ton and seven from Dedham; it contains some
three or four churches, a nail factory, rolling
mill, and several other manufacturing establish-
ments. At this place the water descends thirty-
five feet in the distance of half a mile, and at
one place pitches over a ledge of rocks twenty
feet high. The village, which is well built, is
iiTcgularly situated on a rocky elevation which
rises with some abruptness from the bed of the
river. The Lower Falls village is eleven miles
from Boston, about two miles north-west from
the Upper Falls village. The institution we
have sketched below is a favorite one with the
Baptist denomination, and many of its graduates
are the occupants of pulpits in every part of onr
land ; some have been called to till professor-
ships in other institutions; and all cherish a
fond remembrance of its shades, and rejoice in
its success, and the high and commanding char-
acter of its influence.
VIEW OF THE BAETIST TIIEOLOGICAL INSTITUTIONj NEWTON, MASS,
290
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAAVING llOOM COMPANION.
Eatsrod according to Act of Congress, in the year 1 852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's OiKco of tlic
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written expressly fob GLEABON'S PIOTOniAL.]
] SIG-ir OF TEE
A Tale of the Camp anil Court
YSTIC
f Bonaparte.
BY B. PERLEY POORE.
CHAPTER III— [coxTisuiiD.]
The vendetta, as this barbarous social code
is called, obliges all the male relations of a mur-
dered man, to the third degree of contangninity,
to avenge his death. Burglary, counterfeiting,
poisoning — in fiict, few if any of the crimes
which spring from a refinement of civilization —
are almost unknown in Corsica. But the vic-
tims to a savage thirst of family vengeance are
numerous. Merciless and relentless, the self-
appointed executioners of the vendetta do not
even give their doomed enemies a chance to fight
for life. Amid the mountains are large plains
of table land, covered, with the luxurious growth
of the arbutus, the myrtle, and the gum eistus.
Here the executioners of hereditary vengeance
will lie concealed for hours and even days, until
the doomed victim passes unconsciously along
one of the few tracks whii^h arc formed through
the bushes, more by cattle and horses than by
the labor of man. A bullet sends the iinforiu-
nate man to his last account, and a rough wooden
cross marks tlie spot where he fell.
Day after day did Colonel Lowe stroll about
Ajaeeio and its vicinity, endeavoring to hnd
some one who cherished a vendetta against the
object of hi's hatred. At last, he learned that
Carlo de Bonaparte, the general'-s father^ liad,
some thirty years previous, accidentally killed
the father of one Giacomo, an honest wine-seller.
The emissary at once repaired to his shop, and
ordered a flask of the best wine in the cellar,
which soon sparkled on the table.
" And now, Giacomo," said Colonel Lowe,
with a cold yet gracious smile, " sit down and
join me in the discussion of your wine."
" Thanks, excellency," replied the frank look-
ing, good-natured host, but his quick intellect
instantly mistrusted his entertainer. English
officers were frequent visitors at Ajaccio, but he
never before had known one of them to drink
and chat with a peasant. Neither did he like
the distrustful glances cast from beneath the
shelter of his long and lowering red eyelashes.
" Your townsman Bonaparte," soon observed
Colonel Lowe, *' is making quite a noise in ihe
world. It is perhaps lucky that he did not stop
at Corsica on his way to Egypt, or your ven-
detta might have given him trouble."
"My vendetta, excellency'?"
" 0, 1 know all about it. Nor is it wrong for
you to wish to avenge your father's death. Lis-
ten, my good fellow. You know me. I have
commanded your countrymen. I epeak your
language, Well, I too have a vendetta against
Napoleon Bonaparte. Join me, and you shall
be well paid. Gratify your venge:.mce, and wealth
awaits you. Think of this offer, and should you
decide to accept my proposition, come on board
\^nder cutter, prepared for a cruise up the Le-
vant. Good day."
And flinging a purse of gold upon the table,
the English officer strode away, leaving Giacomo
in a bewildering state of surprise and indignation.
" Vendetta — wealth — vengeance !" he ejacu-
lated. " Why, if my poor father was accidentally
shot by Monsieur de Bonaparte, did he not pro-
vide for my father and all of us children 7 And
was not Madame Lctitia ever solicitous for our
comforts And Napoleon — why I sat on the
same bench with liim at Madame MusclU's
Bchool, and rare sport we used to have, down on
the beq,ch, (jring the Ultle brass cannon given
him by his uncle ]l/neicn. Why did I not strike
down that insolent red-coat, instead of listening
to his wicked words ?" And the honest conn-
tenanee of the wine merchant glowed with indig-
nation as he spoke.
" Bravo ! bravissimo !" responded a musical
voice, and a heavy cypress vine that shrouded
the window was pushed to one side, disclosing a
small, emaciated looking man, wearing an ec-
clesiastical costume.
" Saints preserve us !" exclaimed Giacomo.
" Is that you. Father Jerome, and have you
overheard the offer made me by that fiend in a
red coat V
" Ay, and you must accept of it V
"Not I! What? Murder my schoolmate —
my benefactor's child?"
" No — but preserve his life."
And the priest soon convinced Giacomo that
by accompanying Colonel Lowe, he could not
only thwart his evil dcsij>ns, but perhaps avert
the assassin's dagger from Bonaparte. Leaving
his shop in charge of his sister, and hastily pack-
ing a few articles of clothing in a light basket,
the wine-seller repaired to the quay. Here he
engaged a boat, and soon stood on the white
deck of the "Albatross." Colonel Lowe had
seen him approach, and welcomed him on board,
assigning him a berth with the mates. Prepara-
tions were made for sailing, the water casks were
sent ashore and filled, the new hands came on
board, and as the sun rose the next morning, the
"Albatross" left the harbor, like an imprisoned
bird set free. Among the gazers on the quay,
Giacomo could distinctly see Father Jerome, and
as the v/ind iilled the sails, the good priest raised
his hands, as if to bless the shield so providen-
tially interposed between his loved pupil and a
vindictive enemy.
Giacomo had always been fond of the sea,
and he was delighted with the cutter, which was
a man of-war in miniature. Four handsome
brass guns were on either side of the neat deck,
and amidships a heavier piece, mounted on a
revolving carriage, was sheltered by the long-
boat. Cutlasses and boarding-pikes were ranged
against the bulwarks, nor was there a rope out
of place, or a spar that was not symmetrically
squared. The crew, which had been doubled in
number at Corsica, was composed of sturdy,
daring seamen, most of lliem old smugglers.
Nor was there, in the whole British navy, a more
gallant commander than Jack Norman. Tiie cut-
ter was his idol. Its construction had swallowed
up all his savings and his wife's dowry, for he
felt certain that could he but escape the custom-
house officers with her for one year, he would
acquire a competence. But he had not reckoned
upon treason, and a false friend bctrajed him
on his first voyage. All was lost.
Colonel Lowe, however, came like a guardian
angel, and the smuggler was now cheered by
the hope that, could Bonaparte be captured or
killed, his craft would be restored to him. Need
it be added that he used every caution to for-
.'vard the plans of his master, and was stimulated
by his nautical pride.
CHAPTEE IV.
THE BEAUTIFUL JEWESS.
Flushed with victory, the E'rench army re-
mained during some twelve weeks in the vicinity
of Cairo, In lower Egypt, the soldiers, who had
been Hccustonied to the voluptuous climate and
the pk'utij'ul fertiliry of Italy, murmured loudly.
The heat of the tropical sun, the frequent want
of water, tlio blinding sands, and the bwnrmH of
pcsiiferous insects, had combined to iiu'rease
their discontcur. But when, after the defuat of
Mourod Bey, lliey revelled in the kio.sks of the
Mamelukes, theirs was a happy life. " On duty,
discipline — o(f duty, dissipation," has ever been
the motto of l-'rcnch troops, who vauntingly
boast that they can live as fast as their columns
advance, or drink as hard as they can tight. To
the debuuclicd conquerors of Egypt, the present
rcpo.iC was delighlful. The i^pacious gardens
were full of luscious fruits and beautiful flowers,
interspersed with arbors of vines, loaded with the
finest grapes in the world. In the kiosks were
rich carpets, damask-lined apartments, vases of
perfume, fragrant tobacco, and store rooms filled
with delicious confectionary. Neither were fair
ones lackhtg — blushing Hcbes who minisicred
in these pleasant retreats — for hundreds of beau-
tiful Circassians, emancipated from the convent-
like seclusion of the harems, lived in a new
phase of existence. Ready pupils, they were
soon able to mingle in the joyous dance, and to
join in the varied amusements inwhieli the light-
headed Frenchmen indulged, multiplying pleas-
ure into many fantastic shapes.
The most popular evening resort was the can-
teen of the grenadier regiment, which was the
body-guard of General Bonaparte, and was sta-
tioned near the kioik he occupied. The pretty
vivandiere was the dauglitcr of sergeant-major
Sauterre, and many a hundred glasses did she
sell to those who fancied the spirit-stirring songs
of her father, with their inspiring chorus. The
favorite was a rude ditty, improvised by Louise
herself to a well known air, and the chorus was
often taken up by one corps after another, until
it rang from the Pyramids to the citadel of Cairo,
and the echoes died away upon the wastes of the
desert.
" Let every comrade raise his voice,'
Viva la cninpagnie,
And cheer the heio of his choice,
Viva la compagnie,
Yb-a la, viva la, I'iva Vaniour,
Viva la cmiipngnie.
" With eabre, gun, and march of toil.
Viva la compngnie,
AVe've conquered on tbi;^ sandy soil,
Vita !a compngni-',
Viva lay viva la, viva Vcvnour,
Viva la compagnie.
" We gather fruit from the high palm tree,
Vica la compagnie.
And all the old musty wonders -we see,
Viva la compagnie,
Viva la, viva la, viva l'a}fwtir,
Viva la compagnie.
" But we're sick of the sun and burning sand.
Viva la compagnie,
And we sigh for France, our dear native laud,
Viva la compagnie,
Viua la, viva la, viva I'amour^
Viva la compagnie.
" But let us be merry before we start,
Viva la cowpagiiie,
And pledge the health of Bonaparte,
Viva la compagnie.
Viva la, viva la, viva Vamoiir,
Viva la compagnie.''^
But whilst the sounds of revelry echoed
through the can-.p, all was quiet at head quar-
ters— officers and soldiers indulged in luxurious
dissipation, but the iron-nerved mind of the
young commander-in-chief was never relaxed.
During the day-time, he received deputations
from ihe Egyptians, and framed granite edicts,
upon which he hoped to rebuild the glorious
empire of Isis. And at night, long after the
violin and the castanet had ceased to inspire the
meiry dance, and when no sound met the ear
save the measured tread of the sentries, or the
challenge of the patrols, the future emperor ma-
tured those gigantic plans which afterwards en-
abled him to rule France, and to sway Europe.
Judith was domesticated at tlie kiosk, and
soon became a delightful companion for Bona-
parte, who ever retained his domestic habits.
Nor was it long ere he discovered her superior
vocal powers, and persuaded her to receive mu-
sical instruction from one of his band masters,
an Italian who was well versed in his art. She
proved herself an apt scholar, and was in a few
weeks able to sing the general's favorite airs,
with a puiity of intonation, and a brilliancy of
execution, that captivated her hearer.
" Decidedly," renmrked Bonaparte, one even-
ing, after listening to one of these improvised
concerts, " decidedly, Mademoiselle Judith,
you must go on. the stage. I will promise you
a good reception at the Paris opera, and all these
otlicerfl will take tickets to your benefit.''
The staff oflicers {as staff officers always do)
echoed their jicneral's wi.sh, and from that mo-
ment the young girl's thoughts were all centered
in a desire for professional success. Her instruc-
tor, who did not fjncy military discipline, fanned
the flame, and Judith listened with delight to hi^
account of the ovations paid to distinguiishcd
vocalists by his warm-hearted countrymen. Bou-
quets, hiurul-wreaths, Hereuading, processions —
all served to increai-e the intoxication of the
pupil, and to stimulate her to fresh exertion.
Osmanii was also an inmate at head-quarters,
having been admitted to the general wiaff, with
the rank of " captain interpreter." The young
man had been denounced by Mourad Bey as a
renegade, and the faithful followers of the prophet
were enjoined to kill him, as a "dog" who had
forsaken his creed, and his master — who had vio-
lated the sanctity of a harem and carried off one
of its inmates — who now dwelt with the infidel
French, and ate their bread. '* Accursed — thrice
accursed be Osmanli the renegade," proclaimed
the teachers in the mosques, after morning
prayers; "let him be swept from the earth."
And the hearers, bowing reverentially towards
Mecca, responded, " Allah alone is great, and
Mahomet is his prophet — let the renegade Os-
manli die !"
Little cared Osmanli for this excommunica-
tion, for the charms of Judith had completely
enthralled his heart, and the giant intellect of
Bonaparte had captivated his will. Nor was it
to be wondered at tliat the young Jewess had
fascinated the young soldier, for he had never
before enjoyed die charms of female society, and
now, all his dreams were more than realized.
Harmonious and lovely to behold, and to think
of, there was not a solitary fragment of her
character out of proportion with the rest. Grace-
ful, ethereal and gifted, she appeared to the young
Mameluke like the animated statue of a Grecian
sculptor, inspired by all the gifts of education
and of refinement. Hour after hour did he lin-
ger on the divan where she wrote from Bona-
parte's hurried dictation, and gaze on her with
rapturous delight, treasuring her every smile
with miser like avarice. A new fueling — a new
sense— entered his very soul, and her presence
was the sunlight of his life, endowing all things
wich animation during its effulgence, but leaving
them dark wiicn it disappeared. And his heart,
like tlie smothered bulb of the hyacinth, longed
to send forth pure flowers of affection, that, if she
but deigned to encourage their growth, could
bask in the brightness of her eyes, and expand
into the beauties of that perfect, reciprocated love,
which is the choicest reality of life.
But Judith, although she could not but have
perceived the depth and intensity of the young
Mameluke's affection, gave him but little en-
couragement that it was reciprocated. Love, in
true female hearts, is too holy and farvent a pas-
sion to be kindled by every passing spark, but
requires earnest and continued fanning ere its
refined flame blazes with steady light, exerting
over its possessor the vivifying influence of an
all-enlivening passion. Occasionally, when Ju-
dith would allude to her past dangers, Osmanli
would hope, for her cheek would glow with
gratitude, and her eye would beam with unutter-
able affection. Then, a cloud would seem to
shoot athwart her heart, and her manner would
relapse into a rigid, icy coldness, that effeeiually
checked any declaration on the part of her
admirer.
Nor was Osmanli alone in his admiration of
the beautiful Jewess. Nearly every odicr officer
attached to tlie general's staff attempted to en-
gage her affections, but none of them were so
marked in their attcnliouo as was Alphonse Mar-
gry. They but sought relief from the monotony
of camp life, by a display of their politeness and
of their gallantry — but Margry was inspired by
a frantic passion. He was about thirty- five years
of age, tall, robust, and appearing to great ad-
vantage in his dashing hussar uniform, decked
with the rich embroidery to which, as lieutenant-
colonel, he was entitled. Well informed, witty
almost 10 sarcasm, capricious, and imperious to
excess. Colonel Margiy was equally noted for
his deferential obsequiousness towards his supe-
rior officers, and for his haughty demeanor to-
vrards these under hi^ command. Possessing
the true egotism and cynical gallantry of his na-
tion, he blazoned forth his passion for Judith by
many a marked act of devotion, and soon be-
came piqued at her ai)parent indifference to his
professions. For some time, he persevered in
his attentions, but Judith was so decided in her
cool treatment towards him, and so unmoved by
GLEASON'S nCTORlAL DRAWING r.OO:^! COMrANION.
291
his protestations of love, from which she invari-
ably turned the conversaiion without even notic-
ing them, that he became enraged. And when
he saw with what attention she listened to Os-
manli, whose eyes beamed with confidence and
hope, he felt that lie was eclipsed. He, Alphonse
Margry, lieutenant colonel of hussars, and senior
aid-de-camp to General Bonaparte, was slighted
for an obscure Mameluke, of unknown parent-
age. Rankling was the wound thus inflicted
upon his vanity, nor was it the less painful be-
cause it touched an unfatliomed spot in his heart.
For some days he watched the young lovers
with an uneasy and jealous gaze, evidently hop-
ing that Judith would discover his many charms
and superior qualifications. Bat when he found
uU hi> attentions repulsed, his countenance as-
sumed a sardonic expression of revengeful ha-
tred, whenever he was near his more favored
rival. At last, the volcano of his pent-up pas-
.sions burst forth. He had sent Osmanli to a
village some miles up the river, to make arrange-
ments for forage, and determined to profit by
his absence. Fatting on his handsomest uniform,
and arraying himself in a manner which he evi-
dently considered irresistible, he went to Judith's
apartment, and knocked.
"Enter," in tlie well known tones of tlie occu-
pant, dispelled a slight foreboding which he had
liad, tlxat he would not be received, and he open-
ed the door in the full confidence of success.
There sat Judith, busy with her embroidery
frame, and by her side, holding an open book
from which he had evidently been reading, sat
Osmanli I Margry started, for his cup of joy
was thus snatched away, and with eyes that
flashed fire, he said, iu a fierce tone :
" You Mameluke traitor, why did you not go
where I sent you ? If you are afraid of the death
your cowardly desertion will yet gain for you,
strip off your X>ench uniform, and become a
lady's waiting-maid at once.^'
Osmanli sprang to his feet. " What V he
exclaimed. " Traitor, coward, deserter?^'
" Each and all. Kow go to the guard house,
like a whipped cur, and wait there until your
Corsican master can punish you." And the
colonel's face glowed with rage, and jealousy,
and disappointment.
Ohmanli drew his sabre, but at that moment
a man who had been reposing on a divan, in a
sitaatiou where he was not visible to Colonel
Margry, jumped up, and stood between the two.
The colonel turned suddenly pale, and his
bloodless lip quivered as he attempted to stam-
mer out an excuse. Bonaparte, his mucli dreaded
commander, stood before him. Every angry
word lad been heard.
"Th^ Corsican, Colonel Margry." and Bona-
parte enphasized each offensive word, " regrets
that an ofiBcer of his staff should be forced to
associate with a traitor, a coward, a deserter."
*' General — " stammered the unlucky man.
"Net a word, sir ! You are dismissed from
my stafT, and will at once report yourself to the
provost marshal as under arrest. March!"
And tlie crest-fallen colonel left the room,
casting at Osmanli a glance fraught with the
deepest hatred.
" There," said Bonaparte, " you sec, fair
Smymiote, the extent of your power, in a nega-
tive sense. Now, exercise it in a positive man-
ner, ns an endorsement to Captain Osmanli not
to carry this matter further, upon any consider-
ation."
"But my honor, general'?"
"Never mind your honor, a pistol ball will
not metd it, should it be damaged. Besides, I
shall SOD'S have special duties for you, and as for
Margry, 1« can fight the Turks to his heart's
content when we reach Syria. So remain peace-
ful, and now go on with the book you were read-
ing when thai hot-headed fellow entered."
CHAPTER V.
AN ATTEMPTED CONFESSION".
On one of those calm and beautiful evenings,
such as only the clime of Egypt can boast, Os-
manli and Judith s!rolled oat into the garden of
the kiosk, upon ttie river-bank. It was that
witching hour, when the stars come forth, one
after awother, from the azure vault of eternity,
to illuminate our earth with the silvery light of
distant worlds. The air was heavy with the
perfume of the scented uilica and blooming aca-
cii, v/hile in the quiet light new l»eauty was
added to the tlowery tenants of the varied par-
terres. There were the gay blossoms of the
scirlet pomegranate, and the pure white blooma
of the orange — the sky-blue water-lotus, and the
golden hemasagara — the rich green clusters of
palm leaves, and the luscious luxuriance of the
fig-trees ; — all forming a scene of joyous verdure,
which no inhabitant of a frigid zone could even
imagine, in the wildest flights of a poetic fancy.
Along the water's edge stood a row of giant
sycamores, the white branches of which were en-
twined in many a caress, while they supported
the fragrant yet wanton honeysuckle — that living
emblem of woman's weakness, and of her cling-
ing, tenacious love. The birds had finished their
evening songs, but some hard working bees still
liuramed merrily as they returned, richly laden,
from their epicurean forays. Mvriads of fire-
flies danced erratically over luxuriant parterres,
illuminating the gorgeous flowers with a wave-
like light.
Bordering this ten'cstrial paradise was the river
Nile, flowing majestically along, placid as the
brow of a slumbering infant. On its broad sur-
face was a variety of large barges, their white
sails having a spirit-like look, as they glided
along before the evening breeze. In smaller
boats, hardy natives tugged at the oar, as they
fenied across swarthy Nubians or bearded Turks,
fair-browed Frenchmen, or homeless Arabs.
Emit boats were also passing, laden with rose-
hucd peaches, luscious melons, and grapes in such
luxurious profusion, that their clustering branches
often hung over the gunwales, rippling the water.
Butneither Osmanli nor Judith appeared con-
scious of the beauties which nature and art had
thus lavishly spread around them. The spirit
of each appeared chastened by melancholy pre-
sentiments, nor were many words interchanged
ere they arrived at their favorite evening resort.
It was a rustic summer-house, hanging over the
bank of the Nile, and enshrined among weeping
willows, the long boughs of which drooped with
quiet pensivcness, like the eyelids of a sleeping
beauty.
Seated here, Osmanli made several attempts
to keep up a general conversation, but his fair
companion answered only in monosyllables, and
the rapidity with which he passed from one topic
to another, showed how impossible it was to
escape from the dominant idea of his heart.
Let him urge his thoughts wherever he would,
they would rush back and revel in a glow of ad-
miration, until forced out again, like the mes-
senger dove, to find no resting place.
Just then a "kandja," or barge, came very
near the bank, as it ascended the stream. It
was manned by a dozen Arabs, and as they bent
to their huge oars, they joined in the chorus of a
song chanted by the helmsman. Their voices
were harsh, and the air was monotonous, yet
there was something pleasing in the chorus :
'■'■ Ty'eb — ty'eb — en nil mooljarek I"
" Good — good — is the blessed Nile," repeated
Osmanli, " and a blessed river it is to the Egyp-
tians. Indeed, the Mahometans say that if their
prophet had but tasted its waters, he would have
prayed for terrestrial immortality, that he might
have enjoyed it forever. To me, though," and
the speaker's heart beat fast, while he turned his
eloquent eyes upon Judith, as if to study the
efl'ect of his every word, " to me, though, the
Nile is but an emblem of my own existence.
No one knows where it rises, neither am I aware
where I first drew breath, or from what source
my blood flowed into life. It first is known
among the barbarous Abyssinians, even as I, in
early life, found myself among the Mamelukes.
And it pursues its course, for many a hundred
miles, without receiving a single tributaiy stream
— even — even — ay, dear Judith, as my life has
been passed in heart loneliness. Here, having
left behind the desert and the squalid villages, it
laves this lovely garden — and I, dear Judith,
now bask in the sunlight of your smile. O !
cannot my love meet a response 1 cannot — "
"Stop! For my sake, stop !" exclaimed Ju-
dith. ^Haen the young soldier commenced his
avowal, she had raised her full eyes with invol-
untary surprise, then, turning pale, and her
whole frame quivering with emotion, she inter-
rupted him :
"Nay," he continued, with an imploring ges-
ture, "listen to me !"
" Not another word in such a strain. You
saved my life, (Jsmanli, and during that life you
will find me grateful. Let U5 be friends — true
friends. Let me be as your sister. Let me see
you leave all your Slahometan habits, and rise
high under the powerful protection of General
Bonaparte. But — " and here, her voice falter-
ing, she burst into tears.
The tender despondency with which this re-
fusal had been nitered, saddened and influenced
Osmanli, whose bursting heart could find no
words for utterance. No words could have ex-
pressed his anguish.
At that moment a heavy cloud swept before
the face of the moon, and cast a deep shadow
over the river.
"See!" said Judith. "That you now love
me 1 do not deny, and my refusal to reciprocate
your affection, like yonder cloud, may darken
your heart. Eat as the river will flow on — will
again become bright — and will to-morrow derive
more brilliancy from the sun than it just received
fiom the moon, so your heart will find others
who will add more to your happiness than I can."
" Never ! never !" exclaimed the sorrow-
stricken young man. " Bat can you give me no
hope '?"
" Osmanli," replied the maiden. " Brother
Osmanli — I am one of a peculiar people, and
from early youth liave been taught that God
commands me to honor my father. Perchance,
in years to come, we may all meet, and then, if
you persevere in your flattering appreciation of
my poor self, I shall refer you to him. But —
decidedly — 1 cannot, until he approves your suit,
grant you the least encouragement. Good-night.
May the God of Israel bless you."
And ere the sorrow-stricken youth conld re-
cover fiom his astonishment, she had left him.
Late that night did he walkthrough that garden,
heedless of a severe rain storm which raged after
midnight. What a change had that day brought
about ? In the morning everything looked
bright, for his future pathway was illuminated
by hopes of his love, which, like the silver planet
of the night, tinged everything with its own
beauty. Now, that brilliant sky was overcast by
the clouds of disappointment— the glittering per-
spective had faded into a desert landscape.
CtlAPTER VI.
THE MAGICIAN.
Bonaparte not only treated the sacred insti-
tutions of the Egyptians with respect, but con-
formed to many of their customs and ceremonies.
Even their predilections in lionor of the marvel-
lous were humored, and one evening he consent-
ed to receive a visit from a noted soothsayer.
All of tlie principal ofhcers were invited to wit-
ness the seer's performances, though nothing but
respect for their general kept many of them from
openly scoflSng at the very idea of foretelling
future events.
The magician entered, accompanied by a small
boy. He was a tall, strongly built man, with a
long black beard, and wearing a green turban,
to show his descent from the Prophet Mahomet.
Leaving his slippers at the door, he made a pro-
found reverence, and asked the general if he
wished to possess oracular knowledge. Osmanli
acted as translator, and informed him that, as
he possessed supernatural gifts, he should know
what information was most desired.
"Tell the Sultan," said he, "that I can not
only divine the interrogatories which his heart
propounds, but can answer them."
A domestic then brought iu a furnace, filled
with lighted charcoal, a reed pen, an inkstand,
and some strips of parchment. The incantation
was then commenced by the magician, who wrote
some unintelligible characters upon a long strip
of parchment. Then, placing the furnace be-
tween himself and the boy, he ordered his ser-
vant to cast in aromatic perfumes, at short inter-
vals. The fragrant ingredients snapped and
sparkled, sending up gracefal columns of smoke
towards the ceiling. Then, taking the boy's
hand in his, he poured some ink in it, making a
large bright spot. At this, he directed the boy
to look attentively, and to narrate what he saw.
Then waving his hands, he repeated an incanta-
tion until the boy's lips began to move. All
others were silent, and even the most incredulous
listened attentively.
" I see," said the boy (Osmanli translating his
words), " many houses. It is a city. Through
it runs a river, across which are many bridges.
I enter a house. A lady is there unveiled. She
is reading a letter. Over the fire-place is a pic-
ture of an officer. She finishes the letter, and
then opening a drawer, takes out a fan. Upon the
fan is a small picture of the same officer, which
she kisses."
"Bravo!" interrupted Bonaparte. "I will
admit, gentlemen, that I desired to see Madame
Bonaparte, and I know that my picture is not
only on the wall of her boudoir, but that she has
a fan on which is my miniature. But you all
can try him — I have but one question more."
The magician repeated his incantation, and
the boy again propiiesied. " Many years have
passed, and the warrior is dead. He breathes
his last on an island. He is followed to the
tomb by soldiers in scarlet uniforms."
" Not bad," again interrupted Bonaparte. "I
wished, gentlemen, to know where I should
breathe my last, and it appears that I shall die
King of England, and be buried on that foggy
island by my conquered foes. A rare idea. But
let us hear about the rest of you."
The other officers now interrogated the boy,
and laughed at what they regarded as flattery.
Some, he predicted, would wear crowns, all
would attain rank and fortune. Yet to three or
four, he described their last moments in fearful
colors, depicting them horribly mulilated by
cannon ball or sabre stroke. At length, when
he had gone the round, Bonaparte said :
"Now, Osmanli, inquire about your own des-
tiny, but be sure and interpret all that he says."
"Every syllable," replied Osmanli, and im-
mediately commenced ; " Why is this young
sapling of the western forests away from his
home? He w'eareth the French uniform, yet is
not a Christian. Neither is the creed of Maho-
met in his heart. Stay. He is one of the mystic
brethren — one who has been tried — who has
never been denied — and is ready and willing to
be tried again. Yonder pyramids perish — minds
and hearts are annihilated — but in this young
man's heart doth the great secret reign. I pay
it I'everence. I have done."
And the boy fell down, in violent convulsions,
which lasted about five minutes, after which he
fell into a trance, and then awoke with an ex-
pression of bewilderment and surprise.
The magician was liberally rewarded, even
those who laughed the most at his predictions
treating him with marked respect. Wise and
gifted minds, in every age, have been impressed
by revelations of hidden truth. And there have
been those, who could, by some mysterious in-
spiration, produce efiects so startling and mar-
vellous that the strongest minds yielded to their
influence — satisfied that such things are, yet un-
able to say wherefore.
Refreshments were now handed round, and
afterwards the whole party walked out into the
garden, General Bonaparte entertaining them
with anecdotes of fortune tellers and soothsayers.
" General," said one of the officers, " do not
deem me impertinent, but I have heard that
Madame Bonaparte is a firm believer in divina-
tion. Is it so V
"It is, Berthier," was the reply, "and if you
will all sit down in this summer-house, I will tell
you, as she has often told me, how and when she
became impressed with the belief.
" Madame Bonaparte, as most of you know,
is a native of Martinique, where she passed her
childhood. One day, when she was just budding
into womanhood, she was persuaded by two
friends to visit a noted sibyl, who inspired great
dread among the negroes far and near. No
sooner did the old Pythoness see her, than she
uttered a loud exclamation, and seized her hand,
which was carefully examined.
" ^ Well,' said Josephine, ' do you discover
anything extraordinary in my destiny V 'Yes,*
was the reply. ' Is happiness or misfortune to
be my lot 1' ' itisfortune — yes, and happiness
too.' 'But your oracles are not clear, my good
dame.' ' I am not permitted to render them
more clear,' said the old woman, raising her
eyes towards heaven. 'But to the point,' ex-
claimed Josephine, whose curiosity began to be
excited. ' Tell me all that I am to fear and to
hope.'
" 'Listen, then,' and the fortune-teller, exam-
ining Josephine's hand with scrupulous atten-
tion. * You will first marry a native of this isl-
and, who will take you to Europe, where he will
perish tragically, leaving you two helpless chil-
dren. Your second husband will be a European,
who will be famous without fortune, and who will
crown you as his queen.' On concluding her pre-
diction, the old hag hurried away as fast as her
enfeebled limbs would permit. At first Jose-
phine thought of the affair only to laugh at it,
but when her first husband took her to Europe,
and then perished on the scaffold, she began to
regard the prediction as by no means improbable."
"And she may yet be queen," remarked
Berthier.
"Patience," replied Bonaparte, with a smile.
"Let us wait until the pear is ripe before we talk
of plucking it."
[to ke continited.]
292
OxLEASON'S I'ICTOllIAL DRAAVING R()():\r COMrANION.
Sutter's mill, with a view of coloma, California.
CALIFORNIA VIEWS.
"We pive the readers of the Pietorial ahove a
very fine picture of the famous Sutter's Mill, and
a view of Coloma, California. This was the spot
where the first discovery of gold was made in
the country, and here the first operations were
successfully carried on. On the opposite page
is seen another characteristic and interesting pic-
ture of California, representing the Mission of
San Carlos, one of the noted localities of the
gold country, and from whence many have re-
turned enriched with fortunes, while others have
here laid their hones to mingle with the dust
far from their bereaved homes. These California
pictures are of a very interesting and truthful
character, particularly to those who have friends
in this modern Ophir.
THE 310 ON.
I know not that there is anything in nature
more soothing to the mind than the contempla-
tion of the moon, sailing, like some planetary
bark, amidst a sea of bright azure. The subject
is certainly hackneyed ; the moon has been sung
by poet and poetaster. Is there any marvel tliat
it should be so^ Is it possible that the mo'^t
beautiful ornament of the firmament, the regal
gem of night, should remain undescanted on by
all who can, or think they can, breathe forth
their admiration of her charms? Rather say
that he who has never looked upon her light but
as a lantern to warn his feet from the ditch, hath
not the spirit of feeling, of poetry — nay, of true
piety within him ! She never shone forth in
more splendid beauty than she does at this mo-
ment; and the mild, silvery radiance which she
flings over the Burmese mountains before me,
appears, as it were, the shadowy effulgence re-
flected from the ethereal wings of some pure an-
gel, who has stooped, in the silence of the night,
to gaze witli pity on a world of misery. A calm
repose, rich, delicious, and soothing, steals oTer
me, as I watch her brilliant path ; soothing it is,
but not unmixed with melancholy — a melan-
choly, however, far more exquisite than mirth in
its noisiest mood.
Do we not, when we contemplate the moon in
perfect loneliness, always revert, almost me-
chanically— only that nothing so delightful «m
he mechanical — to former days, ibrmer joys,
former son'ows ? to the past rather than to the
future, whilst the present is unlieeded f It is
ever thus with me. I never behold her pale orb
— beautiful though pale, like the wan beauty of
a dying girl — without the reminiscence of some
moment of bygone bliss, fluttering like alovely
bird of passage before rae; the recollection of
some happy ramble with a dear — it msy be a
deceased — friend, beneath a similar moonlight;
the memory of some bright frolic in an hoar as
quiet; or perhaps the remembrance of i sad
farewell, uttered in such a moment, with a heart
— with hearts — torn by unspeakable anguish.
Alas, such a farewell, in such a night, with the
same sad light gleaming over us, has passed my
lips — a farewell which was indeed a last one ;
and often flits across my memory, laden with its
pensive mementoes of buried hopes and joys. —
Colder CampbtU.
THE TURKISH SULTAW'S STATE BARGE.
[See " Turkey iind tbc Turlcs," p 295, for dnscrlptlon.]
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING P.OOM C0:MPANI0N.
29'
THE FIRST REGATTA, AT LISUON.
FIRST REGATTA AT LISBON,
We present our readers with a fine maritime
picture representing the late regatta which oc-
curred at Lishon. The foreign papers contain a
very succinct account of the scene, which wc sub-
join. The race was for a silver cup, by four
boats rigged as " cahiques." Two of them
sailed under the British flag — the Arrow, and the
William and Edward, of about 12 tons burthen
each : the former was built at Oporto, and the
latter at Lisbon, by Mr. Edward Shirley. The
other two competitors were under the Portuguese
flag, and were built at Lisbon — the Corca, after
the design of Mr. Ronnlds, in England, 12 tons
burthen ; and the Patusco, by Mr. Faria, of
about 6 tons. The course was about fifteen nau-
tical miles, between Belem Tower and Fort
Mayas, crossing and recrossing several times the
Tagus. The wind on the above day was a
strong breeze from the north, and flood tide.
The boats took position at Da Funda, according
to the lots they drew. The first to windward
was the William and Edward, second the Arrow,
third the Corca, and, to leeward of all, the Pa-
tusco, with three minutes start allowed fordifi^er-
ence of tonnage. The Arrow got under way in
gallant style, followed by the Corca, and shortly
after by the William and Edward; the course
being a close haul to Boa Viagem, the Arrow
leading. The Corca gaining on the Arrow, was
very soon in her wake, and manoeuvred for some
time to get to windward of the Arrow, which
she effected at the moment of reaching the Boa
Viagem mark, when the Arrow bore up sharply
round the mirk, the Corca being obliged to shoot
past a considerable distance before she could
wear; having done so, she in a few minutes
crossed her opponent's bow; the William and
Edward followed the Corca closely on her star-
board quarter; the three rounding the mark at
Trafaria in the following order : the Corca. in
24m. ; the William and Edward, in 25m. 25s.;
and the Arrow, 28ai. 53s.; the distance being
3 1-2 miles. The Patusco gave up on leaving
the Boa Viagem mark, a distance of 1 1-2 mile,
which she ran in 20m. 25s. On the arrival of
the Corca at Trafaria, she hauled her wind on
the starboard tack for the Fort Mayas — on the
north bank of the Tagus, with the William and
Edward on her larboard quarter; the Arrow
keeping more away, in order to avail herself of
the eddy that runs along the southern coast
through the Golada, by which she regained on
the Corca 4m. 21s., and on the William and Ed-
ward 3in. 7s., rounding the mark at Fort Mayas
—the Corca in 58m. 30s., the William and Ed-
ward in 5Sm. 41s., and the Arrow in 59m. 27s.
In going about here the William and Edward
shot in between the mark and the Corca ; and,
luffing up hard, became the leading boat, with
the Corca on her weather quarter, who, gather-
ing way and bearing down upon her, passed her
in a few minutes, arriving at Porto Brandon — the
Corca in Ih. 26m. 253., the William and Ed-
ward in Ih. 27m. 15s., and the Arrowin Ih.SOm.
The next mark to be weathered was below Belem
Castle, one mile dead to windward. The Corca
and the William and Edward hauled their wind
on the larboard tack, which they prolonged until
they were in a position to weather the mark.
The Arrow followed a difl'erent plan, going about
to the starboard tack in rounding the Porto
Brandon mark, rounding it in Ih. 48m. 15s.;
the Corca, in lb. 41m. 15s.; and the William
and Edward, in Ih. 43m. From hence the course
■was again to the south-west, and the three boats
bore away, with the wind on the quarter, on the
starboard tack, distance 1 1-4 mile, rounding the
Trafaria mark second time — the Corca, in Ih.
50na. 35s. ; the William and Edward, in Ih. 52m.
55s. ; and the Arrow, in Ih. 5Sm. 26s. The re-
maining points to be attained was when they
started at Dafundo, on the north bank, distance
1 1-2 mile, dead to windward. The Corca and
William and Edward hauled their wind on the
starboard tack ; and when they found themselves
well to windward, being abreast of Caxias
they went about with the wind on the beam,
and out of the influence of the tide which
sets across to the south-east. The Arrow did
not follow this movement, but, on passing Tra-
faria. went about on the larboard tack, steering
for Belem Castle. The Corca arrived at the
winning-post in 2h. 24in. 51s. ; the William and
Edward in 2h. 28m. 49s. ; and the Arrow in 2h.
41m. 27s. ; the Corca being declared the winner,
beating the William and Edward by 4m. 53s.,
and the Arrow by 4m. 24s. The course the
boats ran is computed at about nineteen nautical
miles.
VEN03I OF THE RATTLESNAKE.
A farmer one day mowing, by chance trod on
a rattlesnake, that immediately turned upon him
and bit his boot. At night, when he went to
bed, he was attacked with sickness, and before a
physican could he called in, ditd. All his neigh-
bors were surprised at this sudden death ; hut
the corpse was interred without examination.
A few weeks after, one of his sons put on his
father's boots, and at night, when he pulled them
olf, he was sei/.ed with the same symptoms, and
died on the following morning. The doctor was
unable to divine the cause. At the sate of
the effects, a neighbor purchased the boots, and
on putting them on, experienced the like dread-
ful symptoms with the father and son; a skillful
physician, however, being sent for, who had
heard of the preceding affair, suspected the
cause, and, by applying proper remedies, recov-
ered his patient. The boots were now cirefuUy
examined, and the two fangs of the snake were
discovered to have been left in the leather with
the poison bladders adhering to them. Taey
had penetrated entirely through, and both fat'ieV
and son had imperceptibly scratched themselves
with their points in pulling oft' the boots. — Cham-
bers' Miscdlajty.
MISSION OF SAN CARLOS, CALIFORNIA
294
GLEASON'S riCTOrJAL DRAWING P.OOM COMPANION.
[Written lor GIciihou'h I'ictorliil.]
CONSOLATION.
BY J. STARR HOI.LOWAY.
Say not, thcro is no balm
l''or tbw diflconifortH imd the woes of life ;
Say not, no hctvvonly cnlni
Lurkfl cloKo buhind these Hternor ecencM of strife.
Say not, the skies' Kwcot blue
Can never pierce the t-louds' obHtruutiug veil j
0 8iiy not, gloom nhiill woo
Thy HOul, until all other lovers fiuL.
Life Is a prison-houpc,
A battle-scene, a htorm, ivhate'cr jou will;
n'hero mortals idly drowne,
Or perish after sullering their fill.
Uut yet for hhn who will,
There passes, sometimes, o'er the chequered scroll,
Scenes that must haply fill
■With ecstasj' hid sad, despairing soul.
All may be darkness now,
Yet soon will shine the sweet, unclouded day ;
Storm on tho heaven's brow
Was no'er so dark it did not clear away.
Keep a brave heart alway —
This is the edict of divine formation ;
And he who will obey,
Will find, amid his woea, some consolation.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE POOR COUSIN.
by sirs. caiioline orne.
[concluded.]
Eva, who had, during the foregoing colloquy,
been held in conversation by Lyudale, now ap-
proached Anna, and said :
" 1 believe that you sent for me."
There was a dignity in Eva's demeanor which,
for once, asserted its power over tlie spoiled
beauty, and with undisguised confusion she mur-
mured an unintelligible reply.
" There is one thing which we must certainly
give you credit for," said Lyudale, addressing
Anna.
" What is that ?" she inquired.
" Your ingenuity."
" Well, ma thinks I am very ingenious."
" She is perfectly right. Few besides yourself
would be able to hnd amusement in the way you
profess to."
Anna hardly knew whether to consider this
remark as complimentary or sarcastic; but, as
Lascelles had already gained the ascendency in
her favor, she cared little concerning what Lyn-
dale might think of her, and soon dismissed the
subject from her mind.
" I await your commands," said Eva, again
addressing Anna.
" When one has so mavy accomplishments,"
said she, "it is rather difficult to decide which
of them it will be best for you to show off first.
Cannot you sing us a song? such as they sing
up in the woods, where you came from."
" I can," was Eva's reply; and without say-
ing another word, she took her seat at the piano.
The song she selected was the "Meeting of the
Waters," one to which her voice— a mezzo so-
prano— was well adapted. She certainly could
not be rated high as a performer on the piano ;
yet the sweetness and pathos of her voice made
amends for this defieiuncy, as was testified by
the attention with which Lyndale, Miranda, and
even Lascelles listened,
" Well, Eva," said Miranda, bending over the
piano, when the song was finished, "we haven't
got much good out of you, in the way Anna
anticipated."
"No," said Lyndale, aside; "the amusement
is of a different and much higher quality."
Mrs. Beeket, who overheard this remark, cast
a look at Eva, which seemed to ask: "How
dare you do otherwise than to appear foolish and
ridiculous, when you know you are expected to \"
From thi:i time, Lascelles paid such marked
attention to Anna Beeket, whenever they met, it
soon began to be whispered in the fashionable
world that it would be an engiigement. His at-
tentions, however, were always so carefully re-
stricted that he never could have been said to
commit himself
One day, during a morning call at Mrs.Bcck-
ct's, by Lascelles, Lyndale, and one or two la-
dies, the door-bell rang, and a few moments
afterwai-d a middle-aged gentleman was ushered
into the drawing-room. He was intelligent and
benevolent-looking, and his eyes of some nonde-
8cni)t color emitted sunny beams which diffused
themselves over lii.s wliolc countenance. He
gave his name as IliclmrdLoekwood. Hisdresa
and a|)puarancc in every respect being unexcep-
tionable, Mr.s. Bcckct received him with mueii
politf-ness. The glance was keen, though bc-
nigmint, which he east round the room on those
present. Miranda and Anna alone arrested his
gaze. These he regarded witii a si-ruriny a.s
strict as possii)lc, without its deserving the impu-
tation of rudeness. The result wa^ evidently
unsatisfactory, and turning to Mrs. Beeket, he
eaid :
" Your daughters, f presume."
Mrs. Beeket assented.
" I have been told," said he, " that you have
a niece who at present is residing in your family;
can I sec her. a few minutes without the presence
of a third person V
" Certainly," replied Mrs. Beeket, "though I
may as well mention that if you have a daughter
or any other young lady under your care, whom
}ou wish to have take lessons of her in drawing
or painting, it will be useless for you to see her
on that account, as I have decided against her
giving lessons to any one, except to Anna and
Miranda."
"It is not my object to engage her to give les-
sons to any one,"
Mrs. Bccket's only answer was a look of sur-
prise, while, turning to Miranda, she said :
" You had better ttll Eva that a gentleman
wishes to see her."
Miranda left the room, and soon afterward a
servant appeared, and conducted Mr. Lockwood
to the little room, where Eva had spent the first
evening after her arrival. The interview be-
tween her and Mr. Lockwood was strictly confi-
dential, except, if she chose, she was to have the
liberty of informing Miranda of the nature of his
communication. He had, he told her, already
seen her mother.
People have been said to have notes of inter-
rogation in their eyes ; but every look and mo-
tion of Mrs. Beeket was interrogatory the first
time she and Eva met, after the departure of Mr.
Lockwood. Finding that Eva was not disposed
to be communicative, she, in a very mild and in-
sinuating manner, gave her to understand that
it would be particularly grateful to her to be in-
formed of the object of Mr. Loekwood's visit.
When convinced that this method would not
draw forth the coveted secret, she talked feeling-
ly and pathetically of the duty incumbent on a
young and inexperienced girl of reposing confi-
dence in those older and wiser, and of asking
their advice, especially wlien one of the other
sex was concerned, even if he had arrived at the
middle age, as men, whether old or young, were,
in her opinion, with a few exceptions, base
deceivers.
"I have written to my mother about it," was
Eva's answer to a speech of this nature.
" Ungrateful girl !" exclaimed Mrs. Beeket.
" you have for weeks been dependent on my
bounty, and this is the way you repay me. lie-
member that to-morrow you leave this house."
" 1 have made arrangements to leave this after-
noon," said Eva.
" You aint going to elope with that Mr. Lock-
wood, are you?" said Anna.
"I shouldn't wonder if she wei'e," remarked
Mrs. Beeket.
" I hope, at least," said Eva, " that I shall do
nothing to disgrace either my relations or
myself"
" You need have no fear of disgracing as,"
said Anna.
About three o'clock, a carriage drew up in
front of the house. In a few minutes, Eva
opened the drawing-room door. She was attired
in travelling costume, and remarking that she
did not expect to return, bade her aunt and cou-
sin Anna good-by.
" You are really going, then," said her aunt.
" I wish you well, 1 am sure ; and maybe, when
it is too late, you will repent in dust and ashes
that you had not confided in me — that you had
not sought my advice. I knew the moment I
set eyes on that Mr. Lockwood he was no better
than he should be. 0, Eva, 'tisn't too late now.
I am still willing to advise you, if you will con-
fess all!" and she put her handkerchief to her
eyes, as if deeply affected.
Miranda, who had helped I'>a pack her trunk
— not a very capacious one, though abundantly
so to hold her scanty wardrobe, — and who now
stood waiting for her, took her hand, as she
turned from the drawing-room door, and said, in
an undertone ;
" I shall tell Charles Lyndale where you have
gone, and who Mr. Lockwood is."
This bad all been agreed upon in the morn-
ing, but Miranda repeated it, that Eva might be
sure that siie bore it in mind.
"And }ou will come when I send for you,"
said Eva.
"I certainly .shall if I can. At any rate, I
shall write, and that very soon. There, I must
not detain you another minute; Mr, Lockwood
i.s waiting for you."
Adieus were interchanged, and the next mo-
ment the poor cousin was handed into the car-
riage by Mr. Lockwood, who had, with a coun-
tenance beaming with smiles, stood with his
hand hold of the carriage door, during this leave-
taking of the two cousins-
CHAPTER V.
After the departure of Eva, Lyndale used
often to call at Mrs. Becket's, and invite Miran-
da to walk with him. Mrs. Beeket was rather
pleased at this, as she did not fear but that her
beautiful Anna would make an eligible match
all in good time.
Eva had been gone a number of weeks, when,
one day, Mrs. Beeket received a letter from her
sister Irwin.
"This letter was mailed in Philadelphia,"
said she, looking at the post-mark; " what can
it mean V
An explanation will be found by the conver-
sation which passed between her and Anna, after
reading the letter.
"Is it possible," said Mrs. Beeket, "that Mr.
Lockwood, who carried off Eva, is no other than
the little Neddy Irwin, who went to the East In-
dies wlien I was a girl of sixteen V
" I think it is a made up story from beginning
to end," said Anna.
" I rather think it is true."
" I don't understand," said Anna, "why he
should be called Lockwood, when his real name
is Irwin ?"
" Why, he had his name altered. It was on
that condition that old Mr. Lockwood made him
his heir."
" 0, was that it ? Well, I don't believe that
old Mr. Lockwood was so very rich, do you V
" I shouldn't wonder if your aunt Irwin exag-
gerated ; but he was worth a great deal of mo-
ney, no doubt."
" And so Aunt Irwin, and Eva, and the gen-
tleman we thought she had eloped with, are liv-
ing in Philadelphia in great style. O, it's too
bad, isn't it, ma ?"
"And Mr. Lockwood has purchased a lieauti-
ful summer residence on the Hudson, which is
worse still. What provokes me most i>, that
your aunt, the moment she rises from the depths
of poverty, should be so presuming. If you
would believe it, she demands that we should
contradict the report that has gone abroad about
Eva's elopement. I shall do no sueb thing.'*
" Nor I either. It is none of our look out
Avhether peojjle think she eloped or not."
"As you reported the story, I think it is no
more than fair that you should contradict it,"
said Miranda, who had returned from a walk
with Charles Lyndale in time to hear these last
remarks.
"We will leave that for you to do," said
Anna.
"A task I shall perform with pleasure," she
replied.
" You are always ready to stand in your own
light," said her mother. " If Charles Lyndale
finds that more money is to be obtained by mar-
rying Eva than you, there will be little chance
for you — of that you may be certain."
" There is little chance for me now."
" What do you mean ? Has he dared to de-
ceive you as well as Anna ?"
" He has deceived neither of us. Anna pre-
fers Lascelles, I prefer Arthur Beri'ington, and
Lyndale, ever since he first saw lier, has prefer-
red Eva. He does not know yet that she is an
heiress, and half an hour since he told me that
he had offered her his hand. He, therefore, can-
not be accused of being mercenary."
"If you do prefer Arthur Berrington," said
her mother, " you shall never marry him —
never."
"Perhaps I may."
" If you do, you shall never have a cent from
mc, all shall be Anna's. You know that your
father left the property entirely at my disposal."
"I shall be perfectly satisfied for Anna to
have the whole, and I have no doubt but that
Artluir will."
" There is no knowing," said Anna, " that he
is living. If he Ik, I don't believe he will ever
come I)ack at;ain."
" He has already returned, and I have seen
him."
" Well, lie wont have the audacity to call here,
I presume," said Mrs. Beeket, " when he recalls
to mind the reception I gave him the last time
he called, previous to Ins departure for Europe."
"I believe it is not Iiis Intention to call," said
Miranda.
" No, you are to call on him, I suppose," eaid
Anna.
"I called at his sister's as usual, wiihout
knowing that he had returned," said Miranda.
"Are you at home?" said a servant, looking
into the room.
" Who is at the door?" said Mrs. Beeket.
" Mrs. Mercer."
" Yes, I am always at home to her."
The lady was accordingly admitted. Any
one at all acquainted with her would have known
by the look of importance depicted in her counte-
nance, accompanied with an effort to appear un-
commonly careless and composed, that she was
full of news, which she was most anxious to im-
part. She, however, constrained herself at first
to speak on ordinary subjects. When the self-
imposed constraint became unendurable, she
turned rather abruptly to Mrs. Beeket, and said ;
" My dear friend, have you heard that Arthur
Berrington has returned?"
" I have."
"Is it possible? But to think how he has
turned out! I couldn't have thought it."
" Well, I should. I always knew how he
would turn out."
" Did you ? What did you judge by ''"
" I knew what Aa(/ been would be. When he
went away, he was over twenty-three, and had
never laid up a cent, which was a strong pre-
sumption that he never would."
" That was my own opinion ; but we both
prove to be mistaken; he has turned out entirely
different — what I should call well."
" Well, did you say?"
" I think so ; you may think differently."
" 0, I shall agree with you, I know. I am
always disposed to judge leniently of the yoang
and inexperienced."
" While Arthur was absent," said Mrs. Mercer,
" he fell in with a distant relation, who was rich
as Croesus. He has come over to this country
with him, and openly states it to be his intention
to make him his heir. Young Berrington will
consequently rank with the wealthiest men in the
city, and his habits, you know, were always
good."
" Miranda, did you know of this change in his
prospects?" said her mother.
" I did."
"Why didn't you tell me, then? You know
how much pleasure it always gives me to patron-
ize the really deserving."
" Arthur Berrington is no more deserving now
than he was three years ego, and then you
thought him unworthy your notice."
" How strangely you talk, Miranda ! No
matter ; I shall send for him at once."
" I don't think that it will be of any use, if
you do, for he ascertained by his sister that you
were no more friendly to him now, than before
he went away."
"Miranda, you always was, and always will
be a trial to me," said Mrs. Beeket, putting her
handkerchief to her eyes.
" I hope not, mother," said Miranda. "At
any rate, I mean to try not to be."
" We all have our trials," said Mrs. Mercer,
who now rose to go. " I have mine, but I Ii'y to
be patient under them."
"I am sorry that I was unable to control my
feelings," said Mrs. Beeket, " but I am so easily
afl'ected."
" Just like me," said Mrs. Mercer; " I know
how to sympathize with you. Do try to com-
pose yourself Good morning."
" Good morning," returned Mrs. Beeket, as-
suming a brisk, lively air. "1 have, you see,
choked my feelings down now; Ic«« sometimes."
In something less than six weeks from the time
of the foregoing conversation, Mrs. Beeket and
Anna received an invitation from Mr. and Mrs.
Lyndale to pass a few weeks with them at their
villa. It was situated on the Hudson, being the
same alluded to by Mrs. Irwin in her letter to
her sister, and was presented to Eva by her uncle
Lockwood, on the day of her mariiagc, us a
bridal gift.
"It will be a delightful excursion," said Mrs.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAY/ING ROO^I COMPANION.
295
Becket, " and I sliall certainly accept the invitii-
tion."
"1 hope there will be some genteel people
tiiere, so that I can exhibit ray new dresses,"
said Anna. "I wonder if Lascelles will be
invited''"
" Without doubt ; he is such a particular
friend of Lyndale's."
" I should much prefer to have them invite
Frank Darson. He is so much handsomer than
Lascelles."
"1 wish that Miranda was here to answer this
note," said Mrs. Becket.
" 0, she is so domesti: since she was married
that she don't allow herself to look out doors."
" Anna, dear, I wish you would answer it."
" 0, ms, don't abk me. I so hate to write, I
always ink my fingers so bad."
" Well, I suppose I must answer it myself,
then."
She was spared the trouble, however ; for, at
that moment, Miranda — now ISIrs. Berrington —
entered, and oifered to write the note.
"Do you intend to accept the invitation ?" she
inquired.
" Certainly," replied her mother.
"Then we may as well all go together, for
Arthur and I are also invited."
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
AUSTRAlilA.
BY E. CORTJSa HINE, U. S. S.
We retupnj ire return, we return no more !
J\Irs. Htmans.
" The land of gold ! the laud of gold !"'
Is now the cry from Albion's shore ;
The weak, the fragile, and the bold,
Across the moaning waters soar.
To search the woods and dark rdvinea,
For worthless dross and glittering ore ;
And to their childhood's blissful scents,
Keturn no more— return no more 1
Alas \ alas '. that love of gain
Should tempt poor man to leave behird
The loved and true, and cross the main,
The mountaiu^a hoarded wealth to find 1
Dauntless along their path they roan:,
Nor heed the angry ocean's roar ;
Bat to the cherished scenes of home,
Return no more — retiun no more 1
Australia! in thy rugged breast,
When rolling years have passed away,
Full many a broken heart will rest.
And there await earth's latest day !
Yes, countless thousands there will sleep,
Their dreams and fevered. longings o'er;
And to the friends that for them weep,
Iteturn no more — return no more I
INDIAN NOTIONS.
The Indians have no idea of time or space
that I could discover ; they talk of so many
moons, and of when the sun is at a certain alli-
tude. Their calendar of months is rather curi-
ous: January, monthof storms; February, month
when racoons travel; March, month " mal aux
yeux;" April, the month that the game begins
to arrive; May, when trees are in leaf; June (in
lower country), strawberry month, (in upper
country), the month when the huft'alo run ; July,
month of ripe cherries ; August, com month ;
September, month when flower:= on tbe Prairie
blossom; October, month in hen they grille the
rice; November, deer month; December, month
of " I forget what " — Sullivan's Rambles.
[Written for Gleason'a Pictorial.]
MUSINGS.
BV EDWAtlD M BISBEE.
I love to roam through the wild summer woods,
And view the blue daisies and long winding floods;
Where violets blow 'neath the shady bill,
And fishes sport in the glistening rill.
I love to go to the waters wide,
Where tbe river clear o'er the rocks doth glide ;
When morn's fresh blossoms deck the plain,
Aud the blue-bird sounds forth her notes again.
I love to muse at eventide,
Where clear, deep watei-s gently glide ;
Wtiile the brecM sweeps by and shakes the dew
From sleeping flowers of crimson hue.
And it falls in the water, making waves
That cU-cle around where the popliu- laves
Its leaves with slender and trembling stems,
That glance in the moonbeams like gleaming gems.
I love to rest 'ueath rfome evergreen tree,
When the sun on the forest shines fervently ;
And list to the- roar of the waterfall,
Ti'd evening spreads her sombre pall.
The epitaphs of most men might read : " He
was born ; he toiled and worried for food, cloth-
ing and equipage ; he sought the phantom, hap-
piness ; he died."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A 31 IE.
av JOBS R. Goonwi:^.
'Tls strange, yet 'tis true, this baby-bird.
The depths of my bachelor heart hath stiiTed;
Uer roild, merry eye, of softest blue,
Her round, little cheek, of rose-leaf hue ;
And her flute-toned voice, like tbe voice of a dove,
Hath oped in my soul the fountains of love.
I know not why, but as to my breast,
Her tiny form is gently prest ;
And I fc;el her brejithings upon my cheek.
My heart has eniotioos no language can speak;
But prayer and praise from its depths arise
To the bright ones dwelhng in Paradise j
And I feel as if I were nearer them.
It may be that the baby hath touched the hem
Of a guardian spirit that hovcreth near,
Whom Heaven hath sent to watch her here.
0, I cannot think a blight will mar
The life of this being — my idol star ;
1 would rather see it close its eye
In the virgin flush of its morniug sky.
And feel and know 'twas a seraph blight.
By the spotltss throne in the realms of light.
Than ever its guileless heart should bo
Stained by one touch of impvu:ity.
< »ma »
[Written for Gleason'a Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. IX.
ET DK. JEROME V. C. SMITH.
MOSftTJE OF ACHMET.
This is considered the chief religious edidcc
— superior, in many respects, to all others. Its
six minarets give a peculiiu* character to it; and
when the fom* pillars sustaining the dome are
examined, the spectator is constrained to admit
that the Turks are susceptible of grandeur in
architecture. They arc each made up of three
marble blocks, one placed on the end of the
other. The diameter of these colossal columns
is eigliteen feet.
"Fgvpt and Baalbec have no parallelism for
these monsters. Two candelabras of extraordi-
nary dimensions, sustaining wax candies quite
ten feet high, with galleries, sufficiently elevated
to give an air of loftiness to the whole, on both
sides, are a striking feature. Koran stands, for
the accommodation of students and devout per-
sons, arc numerous.
No orher mosque is so mnnitlcently provided
with funds foi ils support, or contains such a
profusion of costly fixtures and appendages in
the way of permanent wealth. Four emerald
lamps are suspended by golden chains from
above, and give some idea of the concentration of
riches uithin this celebrated and truly magnifi-
cent establishment. They were a present from
the govenior of Abyssinia.
On the left gallery there is an immense pile of
boxes, chests, and other strong contrivances, ir-
regutaidy heaped together, whicli contain an
amount of treasure altogether incalculable. For
some ages past, it has been customary both for
individuals and families to deposit their money,
iewels and other precious effects in this moyquc,
for snfe keeping. Each has his box, large or
small, according to their circumstances, w-ith a
key. No questions are asked, no record kept,
labels are unknown, and tbe owners bring or
carry away, as they choose, and without inter-
ruption.
So sacred is the Mosque of Achmet, that no
one would dare attempt the terribly sacrilegious
act of theft from its holy portals. Whatever is
there deposited, is sacred to all intents and pur-
poses. The idea that it is possiMe that anything
thus lodged for safe keeping cou'd be clandes-
tinely taken away, was never entertained.
Bank vaults are far more exposed to the dep-
redations of robbers, than the open treasury gal-
lery of the Mosque of Achmet. Some of the
boxes may not have been unlocked in the last
hundred years ; yet they arc as they were left by
the owners, undisturbed. Yet the doors are
open, strangers are walking about, and not nn-
frequently stop and stare at the miscellaneous
accumulation, like fi-eight on the deck of a
steamboat; and when informed of the untold
millions thus promiscuously thrown together,
seem to consider it simply in the light of wonder,
and pass on.
No revolution, civil commotion of tbe p_eopie,
or necessities of the government ever perilled, in
the least degree, this concentration of gold, sil-
ver and jewels. Neither guards, watchmen,
wvilking sentinels, nor a police vigilance have ever
been required for the preservation of the deposit.
A religious respect for the sanctuary, with the
education all Mahommedans receive, is superior
to bolts, bars or the guns of an army. Not in-
tending even a further description uf mosijucs —
since a volume would be required fur tliat pur-
pose— that of Sultan ilahoniet II must necessa-
I'ily be passed over, rich as it is in architecture
and gloiious memorials of a flourishing epoch in
Turkish history.
Tliere is the hippodrome, with its stolen obe-
lisk and remnants of a monument of braxen ser-
pents, now called the atmeldan, or place of ihc
horse. Once it had extraordinary dimensions,
but is now reduced to 250 paces in length, by
150 in breadth. It is a shabby, bare, gravelly,
uninteresting square, yet it is associated with
wonders in days of the Greek cmpir&.
Other chariicteristic cniiosities are the cistern
of a thousand columns, the burnt column, the
extensively covered bazaars, the watch lower,
the new university, mint, slave market, arsenal,
the seven towers, the Greek churches, moristan
or asylum for the insane, schools, whirling der-
vishes, and numerous sights and fixtures, illus-
trative of the mechanism, skill, artistic ability,
habits and customs, which must all be omitted
in this epitome of prominent objects in Con-
stantinople.
SCLTAX GOING TO MOSQUE.
A fundamental law requires that the ruler
shall go openly in sight of the people, to prayers
in some mosque, every Friday, and that without
failure, if in health. While the custom demon-
strates the obedience of the Sultan to the com-
mands of the founder of the common faith, it
has a direct bearing on the public tranquillity, to
know that the individual in whom all the func-
tions of the government concentrate is alive, and
therefore superintending tlie machinei-y of state.
Every Friday, therefore, brings with it consid-
erable commotion. Every stranger is desirous
to sec the great man; and his own immediate
subjects, also, exert themselves considerably, to
have a glimpse of the Padisha. By ten o'clock
in the morning it is usually ascertained what
mosque he intends to honor with his royal pres-
ence. He generally selects a different one each
succeeding v»'eek, rarely going to the same twice
in a season.
Having ascertained on a charming Friday
morning that his imperial highness would attend
prayers in a small mosque near the arsenal, and
that he would go by water, we procured a boat
at a seasonable hour, and having taken a favor-
able position on the Bosphorus,on the prescrilied
line for the royal aquatic piocession, waited iis
approach.
There arc two long bridges, built of boats,
crossing the Golden Horn, the draws of which
were swung open ; and besides four bands of
music at the break of the draws — there being
one on each — the main bodies of tiie bridges
were covered with troops under arras.
Every avenue leading from Pera, and, in factj
from other parts of the city, was lined with
people hurrying towards the water. Steamers,
vessels of every description, boats, and anything
that would buoy a man, or whatever position
gave a chance for a view, were quickly occupied.
There was a general, but noiseless commotion
throughout Constantinople. It was a grand
sight to view such a sea of human heads, and
multitudes of beings in white turbans, quietly
smoking, yet watching for the appearance of the
monarch.
By-and-by the guns began to roar at the pal-
ace up the Bosphonis, at the exact moment he
steppped into the barge. A more eager curiosity
was awakened, and the vast multitude swayed
to and fro for an early glimpse of him. AU the
vessels in the navy yard were manned, flags
were floating in the light biecze, the cannon
spoke louder and nearer, when of a sudden the
golden pageant glittered in the eyes of the un-
numbered thousands who wcyq gazing with in-
tense expectations of surprise and gratification.
Not a voice was raised : neither shouts, huzzas,
nor other tumultuous demonstrations broke forth
from the obedient followers of Mahommed. On
the contrary, each one kci)t perfectly still, while
the music began to swell upon the ear, and the
sweet sounds rolled away over the beautiful ex-
panse of the BosphornSj to die in the distant
green fields and water. Water-bailiffs kept the
army of caiques back from the indicated course,
— leaving a highway about twelve rods wide —
and onward shot a beautifully moulded barge,
apparently a hundred feet in length, wide and
roomy, entirely gilded with gold leaf from bow
to stern. It was rowed by fifcy oarsmen, twenty-
five on a side, dressed in white, who rose upon
their feet simultaneously as they dipped ihe
blades into the gentle current on which the fairy
boat was swiftly gliding.
[For a view of the Sultan's Barge, see page 292.]
The stern was raised in the form of a minia-
ture quarter-deck, some six feet, over which
there was a tasteful canopy, supported on four
columns, covered with red silk, and the roof, on
its underside, lined with the same fiery material.
In the centre, protected from the burning rays
of the sun, seated upon an immense scarlet
cushion, sat the Sultan, dressed in a blue frock
coat, buttoned to the chin, blue pantaloons, and
a red felt tarbousch, or cap, swayed a little to
one side by a long, heavy, blue silk tassel. Be-
tween his highness and the rowers, in little space
in front of the canopy, were two black pages.
His majesty is too much accustomed to the
show 10 be particularly struck with any manifes-
tations of public curiosity. However, when he
passed us, and recognizing us as Christian stran-
gers, no doubt, by our hats, coats aud shorn
faces, he gave a long penetrating stare— the only
civility he bestows upon anybody — while our
hats were raised ; for it is always proper in every
country to pay respect to the goverament that pro-
tects us while remaining within its jurisdiction.
Immediately after, came the barge of the first
subject of the empire, the Sadrazan, known to
us under the title of grand vizier, who is the first
minister. In all respects, it was ncp-rly as gor-
geous as his sublime masters; but had fewer
rowers, and was smaller in dimensions. On the
forecastle, about six feet in length — in other
words, Ihe bow tliat was decked over — was an
enormously large carved eagle, silver gilt, with
spread wings, standing upon the tips of its tal-
ons, as if in the act of soaring away in the air.
The design was extremely fine, and the appear-
ance beautiful.
Then came a third barge, also gilded, and
propelled by gilded oars, in the hands of slaves
dressed in loose white costumes, and snow white
turbans, bearing the Kit^lah Agah, an African
eunuch, and his tn-o hiack assistants.
As before observed, this man is a great per-
sonage, and more influential on account of his
proximity to the throne, than any other man in
the realm. He was small in size, small featured,
not very black, and had rather a pleasant ex-
pression. His mutilated assistants seemed to
feel, as the Kislah x\gah did, the importance of
their jiosiiion, by putting on airs of amazing
dignity.
When the boats passed the ships of war, and
especially that monster ship, Mahmoud, too
large for service, the roar of artillery w^as per-
fectly deafening. On touching the shore, where
a great body of troops were in waiting, and num-
bers of caparisoned horses stood champing the
bit, the cortege passed quickly, without ceremo-
ny, into the mosque. All the oarsmen leaped
out, and amused themselves by strolling about
at their ease, while the troops on the bridge re-
tired quietly to their barracks.
An impression was abroad that the Sultan
would return, to the palace on horseback, and
the crowds therefore dispersed to intercept him
on the return route ; he disappointed them, how-
ever. When he had completed the exercises
dtie to religion, he returned to the barge, which
was quickly forced off towards an elegant steam-
boat, which had recently been presented to him
by Abbas Pasha, his disliked vassal of Egypt.
The other two barges returned the way they
came, leaving his majesty on board the new toy.
How he finally got back to his lodging was not
ascertained, as we were too weary and too nearly
roasted to remain any longer watching the re-
treating shadow of the Slayer of Men — one of
the lilies that belong to the ruler of Turkey.
No pageant in Europe, which we had seen, was
more imposing, or conducted with more effect.
An extraordinary privilege is accorded to the
humblest being in the realm, of appealing di-
reclly to the Sultan, through a written petition,
each day when he is on the route to the mosque
for public prayer, on horseback. Placing them-
selves bolt upright against the houses in tlie nar-
row street, as the Sultan arrives nearly opposite,
their petitions are handed to the grand vizier.
The Sultan has each read on returning,and gives
personal directions respecting them. In this
manner, the Padisha learns what he otherwise
never would have known of the rascality of his
beloved subjects. The custom, no doubt, pre-
vents a large amount of iniquity, through fear
that it may reach the cars of him who acknowl-
edges no superior on the globe.
296
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE LATE PROCESSION OF THE FIRE DEPARTMENT, BROOKLYN, N. Y.
On this page we
pve two pictures,
drawn by our artist,
Mr. Chiipin, upon the
.spot, the first illustra-
ting the second annu-
al parade of the Eire
Department of Brook-
lyn, N. Y., and the
second, a view of tlie
new Firemen's Hall,
dedicated on the oc-
casion. Early in tiie
morning preparations
were making in all
parts of the city where
the Firemen's pro-
cession was to pass,
flags were unfurled to
the breeze from all
public and many pri-
vate buildings. Every
engine, hook and lad-
der and hose carriage
house was dressed
with flags, wreaths
and bouquets — every-
thing wore the appear-
ance of a festive occa-
sion. The aiTange-
ments made by the
Fire Department com-
mittee were carried out
in full, without con-
fusion or delay. At
'2 o'clock the proces-
sion took up the line
of march through the
several streets, as laid
down in the program-
me. As they passed
along, at almost every
dwelling they were
greeted by the fair sex
by the waving of ker-
chiefs and throwing
of bouquets — some of
these were truly mag-
nificent. The proces-
sion was headed by
Gazelle Company No.
4, from Providence,
preceded by a band of
music, and the banner
of the Fire Depart-
ment and the escort-
ing committee. En-
gine Companies 6 and
7, from Newark, came
next, and were fol-
lowed by the Grand
Marshal, Peter B. An-
derson, and Aids,
Robt. R. Story, Wm.
5. Sutphen, Geo. Sta-
ley, and John Green.
Next followed the
whole Fire Depart-
ment of Brooklyn as
laid down in the pro-
VIEW OF firemen's HALL, BROOKLYN, N. Y.
gramme, excepting
Engine Companies
Nos. 7, U and 16,
Hook and Ladder
Companies Nos. 2 and
3, and Hose Compa-
nies Nos. 2 and 3.
The machines of these
Companies, we learn,
were not in repair ;
but most of the mem-
I>ers were attached to
other companies.
X^very engine was fine-
ly decorated. No. 1
l->gine was on a car-
liage drawn by eight
handsomely cap ar-
isoned horses. No. .*>
Engine was mounted
the same way, and
drawn by 12 horses.
On this carriage were
three miniature fire-
men,— three small
boys, — who were fre-
q uently applauded.
No. 12 Engine was
also on a carriage
drawn by 12 horses.
Hook &. Ladder Co.
No- 4 had a live eagle
perched on their
brake. No. 14 Engine
Co. carriage was or-
namented by a liirge^
wreath, about 5 feet in
diameter, in a frame,
liresented to them on
Fulton Avenue. En-
gine Company No. 19
brought up the rear,
drawn by ten horses.
The procession num-
btied about one thou-
^ ind firemen and ten
binds of music, and
was complete in every
respect. The carriages
\M_re all handsomely
decorated, and the
members of the De-
|)irtmentall in good
turn. About? P. M ,
tilt procession reached
the place of starting,
^\hcn the companies
Wire dismissed. In
the evening a largo
number of the firemen
mended at Concert
H ill, to listen to the
didicntion address by
Klv. Mr. Hodge. The
house was well filled,
a large number of la-
dies being prescnt.and
the audience was in-
terested deeply in Mr
llodgo's address.
GI.EASON'S PICTORIAL DTIA^^IXG ROOM COMPANION.
297
LORD HARDINGE.
We present to our readers herewith a fine por-
trait of the new commander in-chief of the armies
of Great Britain. The subject of our illustration,
Henry, Viscount Hardinge, of Lahore, and of
King's Newton, co. of Derby, G.C.B., is descend-
ed from Nicholas Hardinj^e, who was living in
King's Newton in the reign of Henry VII. The
present viscount is the third son of the late Rev.
Henry Hardinge, rector of Stanhope Durham,
by Frances, his wife, daughter of James Best,
Esq. He was horn on the 30th of March, 1785,
and entered the army on the 8th of October,
1798, at the early age of thirteen, as ensign in
the Queen's Rangers. He subsequently became
lieutenant in the 47th (Lancashire) on the 25th
of March, 1802 ; was gazetted captain in the 57th
(West Middlesex), April 7, 1804; major, April
13, 1809; lieutenant-colonel. May, 30, 1811;
colonel, July 19, 1821; major-general, July 22,
1830 ; lieutenant-general, November 23, 1841.
He has filled the offices of Clerk of the Ordnance,
Secretary at War, Secretary for Ireland, again
Secretary at War, and in 1844, after the unex-
pected recall of Lord EUenborough, was appoint-
ed to the rank of Governor-General of India.
Viscount Hardinge is one of the now fast dimin-
ishing number of military men who served
throughout the whole of the Peninsular war ;
nearly all the time he was deputyquartermaster-
general of the Portuguese army. He was pre-
sent at the battles of RoHsa and of Vimiero, in
which he was wounded. At the glorious battle
of Corunna, Captain Hardinge was on the staft"
of the brave and unfortunate Sir Jolm Moore ; he
was near when the general received his death-
wound. On observing that, as the soldiers were
placing him in blanket, the hilt of his sword got
entangled in the wound, he attempted to take it
off; the dying hero stopped liim, saying : " It is
a^ well as it is ; I had rather it should go out of
the field with me." Viscount Hardinge was
afterwards at the passage of the Douro, at the
battle of Busaco, at the lines of Torres Vedras,
at the battle of Albuera, the first and second
sieges of Badajoz, at the siege and capture of
Ciudad Rodrigo, at the third siege of Badajoz,
at the battles of Salamanca and Vittoria, where
he was severely wounded ; Pampeluna, the Py-
renees, Nivelle, Nive, and Orthes. He served
also in the campaign of Waterloo, and lost his
hand at the battle of Ligny, on the 16th of June.
Even as Governor- General of India, he was en-
gaged in the battles of Moodkee, Ferozeshah,
and Sobraon. It was on the ISth of December,
1845, that the battle of Moodkee was fought;
when tlic British troops, after forced marches of
one hundred and tifiy miles, and while the men
were suffering severely from want of water and
exhaustion, received the attack of a force treble
their own in number, defeated them with great
slaughter, and captured seventeen of their guns.
But it was at Ferozeshah, where he offered his
services to Sir Hugh Gough, that the military
talents and the personal courage of Viscount
Hardinge were pre-eminently seen. On account
of his conduct on these memorable occasions,
which ended in the discomfiture of the Sikhs, the
governor-general was elevated to the peerage.
VISCOUNT HARDINGE, COMMANDER IN CHIEF OF THE BRITISH ARM7.
THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC.
There, probably, never was, since the begin-
ning of the world, an instance of such solid, sud-
den and dazzling prosperity as has been achieved
within the last fifty years by the United States of
America. By peaceful industry and bold but
well weighed enterprise, they have advanced to
a degree of material and well-being which, to
those who only know the world from hooks,
must appear almost incredible. They have but
to persevere in the same course, and there is no
limit to the triumphs that lie before them. They
have still a boundless ten-itory to occupy and
improve, in the posse:^sion of which they are
without a neighbor, and a mission of civilization
and consolidation to execute as noble as ever de-
volved upon the sons of men. But the previous
triumphs of their industry and their enterprise
have been so rapid and portentous, tliat they would
seem to have a tendency to turn aside the nation
from its steady onward course, and to enlist it in
jnore brilliant but far less certain schemes of ag-
grandizement. A nation struggling day by day
with praiseworthy perseverance and intensity for
the possession of the "almighty dollar," so
shrewd and calculating in its private transactions,
becomes, when it touches on public affairs, bound-
less in its aspirations. It possesses a will as un-
controllable as the powers of nature which sur-
round it, and spurns the control of law to which
these mighty agencies so humbly submit them-
selves.— London Times.
PliOUGHING MATCH AT BRIDGEPORT.
The ploughing match of the Fairfield County
Agricultural Society, of which we give an illus-
tration below, came off at Bridgeport, Ct., on
Thursday, the 7th ult., and was attended by vast
crowds of people from the sunounding country.
The ground was about one and a half miles from
Bridgeport, on the line of the New York and
New Haven Railroad, and in the immediate vici-
nity of the Sound. Thirty-two teams were en-
tered to contend for ten premiums, ranging from
S50 to S5. The rules were : each team to plough
one-fourth of an acre in two hours time, the fur-
row to be seven inches deep, the sod to be com-
pletely turned and well covered, and every man
to be his own driver. The ploughing commenced
at eleven o'clock, and better work it was never
our good fortune to witness. Where all were so
nearly perfect, it would be invidious to particu-
larize. After much difficulty in coming to a de-
cision, the judges finally announced the following
award of the premiums: A. H. Jerome, of
Hartford, Ct., first premium, S50; J. L. Hart,
Cornwall, Ct., second premium, S25 ; L. G.
Bliss, Brattleboro', Vt., third premium, $25; Al-
bert W. Knap, Fairfield, Ct., fourth p.emium,
S25 ; Charles B. Clark, Monroe, Ct., fifth pre-
mium, S18; EUas Plum, Bridgeport, Ct , sixth
premium, S16; George Morehouse, Fairtield,
Ct., seventh premium, S14 ; Isaac E. Bostick,
Trumbull, Ct., eighth premium, S12; Curtis L.
Bostwick, Monroe, Ct., ninth premium, SIO;
Calvin W. Nourse, Westboro', Mass., tenth pre-
mium, S5. Twenty-two other gentlemen received
diplomas. Eight of the premium ploughs were
from the manufactory of Ruggles, Nourse, Ma-
son & Co., and two from Prouty & Mcars.
Thirty-one of the teams were oxen, making al-
together a sight worth a journey to see. The
field was a sward upon loamy soil. All the
ploughing was skillfully and perfectly executed.
The town was crowded with people — the day
being one worthy of note for its exceeding love-
liness. The exhibition of farm products and
other matters, was worthy of commendation.
We did not see theshowof stock, but understood
there were some remarkably good animals on the
ground. For the large, beautiful red Devon
oxen, we can vouch they would be hard to beat;
iinywhcre. P. T. Barnum, of course, was in his
glory. He is certainly entitled to much credit
for the course he has taken to improve the agri-
culture of Fairfield County. During the plough-
ing, the assembled multitude was addressed by
Professor J. J. Mapes, in an excellent practical
agricultural speech, of some two hours in length,
in which he touched upon many topics of interest
to the farmer and horticulturist. After the award
of premiums, the judges, orator of the day, and
members of the press, dined by invitation with
the President of the Society, P. T. Bamum,
Esq., at his palace of Iranistan, and were then
driven in his carriage to the Fairfield County
Agricultural Fair, which was being held in
Biidgcport. A balloon ascension and circus
were among the thousand and one attractions of
the day. The ploughing match is finely illustrated
by our artist in the beautiful engraving which
we have given below.
FAIRFIELD COUNTY AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY'S PLOUGHING MATCH, AT BRIDGEPORT, CONN.
2')8
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloiwon'fl Pictorial.]
THE IN 1)1 AM SUMMER.
DY I'lUKClt) A. UUBLVAOK.
Autumn hnH conic, iind winter's fltop 13 near,
Ili.t rootwtupfl ruHtIo In the I'lilllnt? limvcH ;
Ills rhlU breutli uiuruuirn In tiio herbage sore,
His frown would drirkon oven the givrnoreJ HhcttTCH ;
But kindly uaturo mitigates bin frown,
And gllilfi the d>ing year with glories all her own.
Itcforo our raptured sonRos now unfol'l
ScencB of a pngoant mimmor, ono more bright
In varied hues and garnlturo of gold,
Than " leafy .June " o'er olTorod to the sight.
Tlio sweeping wooded hills are all abln/.;;,
And myriad rainbows glimmer through the golden bazo.
The limpid streams that idly saunter by,
A burnished mirror in each tiny wave,
Roward the gaze of the delighted eye ;
for jewels, such as decked Aladdin's cavo,
Shine from their liquid depths in wavering light,
From mom till noon, from noon till starry night.
And every bright-wingod and melodious bird,
That loves the woodland haunt and sylvan dell,
Py the strong spirit of his uaturo stirred,
Pours to the parting year his wild farewell.
AhisI too soon the gorgeous niiisque must end,
And ehilUng skies o'er leafless bowers in sadness bend.
How like a monarch regal Autumn dies !,
With Tyrian robes and gems hia couch is strown ;
Above, the drapery of the golden skies,
Beneath, the Bplendor.-* of a matchless throne.
Muyic to fill with joy the dying ear,
And Ijear the spirit to a brighter sphere.
So died the sachem, lord of these deep woods.
Brightly appareled, in the days of old ;
So lay in state beside the rolling floods,
Oay with flamingo plumes, and clasps of gold,
And trophies of the battle and the chase.
Smiling on death with unavcrted face.
[Written for Gleasoa's Pictorial.]
CASPER ISLE.
A TALE OF THE SEA.
BV E. CURTISS niNE, U. S. X.
And then there was a little isle.
That in my very fiice did smile.
The only one in view;
And on it there were waving trees.
And o'er it blew the niountiLin breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing.
And on it there were young flowers growing,
Of gentle breath and hue.
JSi/roa's Prisoiitr of ChUlon.
The morning sun rose bright and red over the
blue waves that wash the shores of South Ameri-
ca, and the soft, tropical breezes swept along the
azure sky which bent above the scene, and the
finny tribes darted like beams of light in sport-
ive gambols througli the deep.
A sail — one solitary sail, broke in upon the
monotony of that vast expanse of sky and
ocean, that immensity of grandeur and sublimi-
ty. Since the morning of the day before, she
had laid with drooping wing like some sleeping
sea-bird upon 1 he silent waters, her snow white
sails idly rustling against her lofiy masts, as she
rolled lazily to and fro in the heavy ground
swell; but now she had caught the newly-wak-
ened breeze, her canvass was all expanded, and
she was gliding onward along her watery path,
with the speed of a falcon.
Sbe was a large brig, some four hundred tons
burthen, sharp and long, like the clippers of our
own day, and with a breadth of beam so great
that it seemed as if it would be impossible to
capsize her, though a hurricane should pour its
fur}* upon her. Her decks were white and clean,
and an air of order and decorum was visible in
the cut of her sails, the fashion in which her rig-
ging was flemished down, and tlie quiet manner
in which the several duties of the erew were car-
ried on. Amidships of the craft was mounted
upon a pivot a long, bi-ass forty-two pounder,
which was kept as bright as polished silver, and
reflected back the burning rays of the tropical
sun like some resplendent mirror, while in
groups around the decks stood the athletic sailors
in their snow white dresses, conversing in tow
tones, and occasionally casting long and anxious
glances over the surface of the surrounding sea.
Tlic captain, a short, swarthy, ferocious looking
fellow, with sun-bumcd face and bushy whiskers,
was walking briskly to and fro the quarter deck,
conversing with the mate, who like himself had
little in his pergonal appearance to recommend
bim to the favor of the physiognomist. They
were both dressed in a suit of uniform — a plain
blue coat with anchor buttons, and gold laeed
caps, while around their capacious waists were
bound large red silk sasiie.':, such as are some-
times worn by the olHccrs of the army while on
duty.
" Well, Santon," .said the commander to bis
subordinate, " I suppose if this wind should
hold, wu will be enabled to reach Casper Island
by to morrojk' night. I'm very anxious to get
in, for my provisions arc nmning .short, and
there seems to be no prospect of falling in with
any thing. I believe that all the trading vessels
have got scent of mc, and steer in some otiier
direction, for I ean't get a sight of one. Con-
found them ; tlie next one I do fall in with will
he apt to fare slim. I'll make every mother's
son of them walk the plank,"
" Yes, no doubt of it — every mother's son of
them," answered the mate, drily ; " but you
don't say anything about the {kvifjhiers."
"There you arc again, Jenkins, always throw-
ing u|> to me about saving the lifd of that girl
when we made the last capture. You yourself
will admit that she is surpassingly beautiful."
" \''cs, she /*• beautiful. But what upon eartli
can you do with her ? She will only be a bur-
then upon our handi, and should she live, and
we ever bo brought before a court of justice, her
evidence would go hard against us. I move
that we poison her."
" jN^o, no, that shall not be done,*' answered
the captain, in a stern tone of voice. '* I com-
mand here, and it is for ine to judge what is
best. It is for me to command — it is for you to
obey. You ask what I am going to do with
her, I answer that 1 am going to make her my
wife when I reach the island."
" Impossible — she will never consent — "
" Consent or not, my wife she shall be, if I
murder her first and man-y her afterwards. My
mind is made up on that subject, and it will be
of no use to attempt to dissuade me from it.
But here she comes — go forward and set the men
at work to repair the long boat, which was dam-
aged in the last brush."
" Ay, ay, &ir," replied the mate, and took his
departure from the quarter-deck.
A tall and elegant young lady came up the
ladder leading from the cabin, and seating her-
self upon a settee extending across the stern of
the vessel, gazed long and wistfully over the
wide spreading waters of the heaving sea. She
was apparently some nineteen or twenty years
of age, wicli regular and agreeable features, re-
markably white and even teeth, and with a form
at once graceful and voluptuously matured.
Her dark brown hair hung negligently in show-
ers over her alabaster shoulders, and her dark
blue eyes were dim as if by recent weeping.
She seemed listless and low-spirited, and lost in
a sort of dreamy reverie as she gazed off over
the sparkling sea, but her reverie was soon
doomed to be disturbed.
" Well, miss," said the captain, who had
sauntered up unpereeived to where she was sit-
ting, for her thoughts had been wandering else-
where, "well, miss, what do you think of your
present prospects ?"
"They are gloomy enough," answered the
young lady, sadly ; " how could they be other-
wise ? my friends and parents slain by your or-
ders, and myself a prisoner on board a piratical
vessel."
"Plold, young lady, not so fast, if you please,
"We of this profession do not care about being
called by hard names. Free-traders is our title."
" I care not by what name you are known,"
answered the girl, firm.ly. " You are no less a
villain."
" Yes, because I took the vessel in which you
were a passenger, made your old father and mo-
ther, your lover {I suppose he was), and all tlie
crew walk the plank, and spared you for ray
own pui-poses, you call me a villain. Well, you
will get tamed down amazingly befoi'e you have
been many months in my power. Where was
your vessel from V
" London ; we were bound to Rio Janeiro,
where we were to spend the winter, and expect-
ed to have been in next week, when your vessel
bore down and captured u.s."
" And that young officer— who was he? Your
lover, I suppose ? O, you needn't blush so — I
know he was ; 1 knew it at the first glance, and
so I threw him overboard because 1 didn't wish
there should be any impediment to my union
with you."
"To your union with mn?'' said the young
girl, with a shudder.
"Ay, to your union with /»e, madam. Y'ou
needn't shrink so, and tremi)lc. What did you
suppose I saved 3'ou for, and destroyed the
others?"
" I'm sure I can't lell."
"lean, then. You arc to become my wife
when we reach Casper Island, whither wo are
now bound,''
"I'll die first!"
" So nniuy a girl has .said before, but they all
came to it in time — they all come to it, and so
will you."
" 0, that Rupert wvre living."
" Yes, yes, that's all ri/^ht enough. But he's
dead enough, I can tell you. But who was that
young officer '."
" Rupert Stanslield, a lieutenant in the royal
navy, lla was going out to Rio to join his ship,
the Montague, and wc chanced to be passengers
in the same vessel."
" And you never knew him before you met on
board the vessel '."
" Never."
" 'Tis well — you'll never know him again.
The sharks have feasted upon his delicate limbs
long ere this."
And so the gallant brig sailed on o'er the
laughing sea, as if unconscious of the weight of
sin she bore ; the breeze sung merrily among her
mazy rigging, the glad waves sparkled in the
sunshine, and the while-winged craft sped on.
0, inscrutable are the ways of Providence ; —
" we know what we are, but wc know not what
wc shu/l be."
Rosalie Gilbert was the daughter of a wealthy
English gentleman who resided on the Isle of
Wight. A short time prior to the opening of
our tale he liad exhibited symptoms of n pul-
monary complaint, which induced his medical
adviser to recommend that he should spend the
winter in a tropical clime. Acting upon this
recommendation, he bad sailed from London in
a barque for Rio Janeiro, taking with him his
wife and daughter, the young lady already in-
troduced to the notice of the reader. Four
weeks the barque had glided on towards her
destined port, and everything went on pleasantly.
Nor was the pleasure marred by the presence
of a young lieutenant in the British Navy, who,
in obedience of orders received from the admir-
alty, had taken passage in the vessel with the in-
tention of joining the Montague, the flag-ship of
the Brazil squadron. He was a young man of
agreeable manners and a cultivated mind, and a
warm friendship sprang up between him and the
beautiful Rosalie, cut o(f as they were from the
busy world and thrown almost constantly into
each other's society, which soon ripened into the
deepest love. In fact they bad obtained the
sanction of the parents, and it was a settled
thing that they should be united whenever the
barque should arrive at her destined haven.
But alas ! their dream of bliss was destined
to be broken in upon by a most terrible and un-
looked catastrophe. When within a few days'
sail of Rio, a piratical vessel, with a large black
flag floating at her peak, bore down and gave
chase to the defenceless merchantman. She was
but a dull sailer, and in a few hours the fleet
brig was alongside ; the captain, crew, and pas-
sengers, with the exception of Rosalie, were re-
lentlessly thrown overboard, the barque was
plundered of everything valuable, and being set
on fire was quickly wrapped in flames, while the
corsair, like some iU-omencd bird of prey, hav-
ing completed her mission of destruction, filled
away, and stood oft^ for the haunt of her crew,
bearing with her the insensible form of the
maiden, now a captive in the hands of miscre-
ants, whose tenderest mercies were but cruelties ;
a band which delighted in deeds of violence and
blood !
Afar in the midst of the South Atlantic, where
the warm sun ever pours down his brightest rays,
and chilling winter as yet has never dared to
drive his icy ear ; in a clime where perpetual
summer reigns triumphant throughout the live-
long year; where the music of the singing birds
is heard from early morn to setting sun, mingling
with the low murmur of the laughing waves, as
they leap like things of lif<; and light upon the
sandy beach, on a spot where bounteous Na-
ture seems to have showered down her richest
gifts, rises the lovely island of Casper, the bright-
est jewel that emerald-like sparkles upon the
slumbering bosom of that tianquil sea. Its pre-
cise latitude and longitude is not essential to the
objects of our lale, so we shall merely state that
at the time of the opening of our tale, it had re-
mained undiscovered and unknown to all save
the officers and crew of that piratical brig, which
wc have before described to our readers. Car-
lo Maurau, tlie head of that redoubtable gang of
freebooters, in traversing the wateis of that tiieu
unfrequented sea, in search of such inw ships as
might chance to pass that way, had discovered
the existence of ihat little green and verdant isle,
and it at once struck him that it would aflbrd
him an excellent place to recruit when wearied
with the active nature of his pursuits.
A settlement was therefore formed upon tho
banks of a Utile creek, which wound its course
irdand among the mountains in a zigzag direc-
tion, and which aflbrded an ample depth of wa-
ter to admit vessels even deeper than the brig ;
and there a village was constructed, frail in its
materials, it is true, but still strong enough lo
protect the pirates from the heavy rains that
periodically deluged the island. Here they were
wont lo resort, in order to recruit their energies,
which were often exhausted by the hazardou'i
kind of life they were compelled to lead, and
here were left any sick or disabled members of
their community, when necessity or lovo of ex-
citement prompted them to take to their vessel
and put to sea.
It was a bright sunny afternoon in the early
autumn, and the soft breezes rustled among the
branches of the lofty palms and cocoas that
studded the island, and threw in sombie shade
tlie virgin earth below. Upon a iiill, overlook-
ing the sea, stood a group of ten or twelve sea-
men, invalid members of the piratical commu-
nity, who appeared anxiously scanning the hori-
zon in search of some object, and anon passing
remarks upon the weather, and such other mat-
ters, as they chanced to be conversant with. One
of the number had a spy-glass in his hand, and
as be gazed off over the blue strctcli of waters,
sparkling and flashing in tlic sunlight, he report-
ed, from time to time, to bis comrades the result
of his observations.
" I tell you, lads, it must be the Raven ; I
know her by the cut of her fore-topsail. You
know what a roach we gave it the last time we
had it down for repairs."
" Yes," answered one of the others ; " but it is
not yet time to expect her. She has not been
gone more than a month or so."
"0, the skipper's getting tired of them ar long
cruises. I heered him say, not long ago, ho
meant to get him a wife, when he fell in with a
pretty girl aboard some one of the vessels he
nabbed, and then settle down, and let the mate
have the brig for a while to try his luck."
" Yes, and that's the secret of liis return now,
I reckon," replied the man with the glass ; " for,
if there isn't a female on the quarter-deck of that
brig, then my name isn't Tom Han-is."
"And so there is," said several of the gang,
gazing through the glass in rotation; " that is
the Raven, standing in for the land under all
canvass, and there's a lady there, too,"
"And I must go down and get the captain's
house in order for its nev/ mistress, I suppose,"
muttered Harris, " or I'll be apt to catch a few
dry knocks about the ears when he comes."
And the corsairs departed from the hill, and
took their way towards their rudely constructed
village, in order to put everything in good order
against the arrival of the working portion of
their community.
Meanwhile the brig was gliding in under a
press of canvass, and soon she pointed her bow-
sprit between the two headlands which marked
the entrance of the creek, and stood boldly up
the narrow and winding channel until nearly
abreast of the bamboo thatched village ; when
clewing up her sails in "regular man-of-war
fashion," and rounding gracefully to, her anchor
was let go with a loud splash into the quiet wa-
ters, awaking the echoes of that lonely spot, and
swinging slowly round, so as to bring her buoy
up stream. The Raven lay silently in her berth,
the black emblem of her fearful calling floating
out lazily on the sunny breeze, and all her tower-
ing spars and unfurled canvass reflected in the
clear depths of those translucent waters.
No sooner was the anchor down, than the gig
of the captain was lowered, and that worthy,
handing the trembling form of Rosalie into the
stern, fjuickly followed, and ordered his coxswain
to pull for the shore. But few words were spok-
en during the passage, which lasted but a few
moments; and when the bows of the gig were
run upon the yellow sandy beach, the captain
leaped out, and taking the lady by the arm, con-
ducted her to a house a little apart from tho
others, and having more pretension to style than
characterized the larger portion of them,
"Here, madam, will be your homc,^' said
Manran, as he entered with his charge. "You
see tho place is tolerably well fitted up ; you will
have one of the boys to wait upon you, and at-
tend to your wants; and yonder," pointing to a
door, " will be your apartment. I do not wish
GLEASOX'S PICTORIxVL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
299
to use force to compel you to become mine, but
rest assured that the sooner you consent to the
arrangement, the better it will be for you. Mine
you }imst be, and mine you sItaU he, with or with-
out your consent ; but I will give you a few days
to consider upon it, before proceeding to carry
out my plans."
" Then you consent to give me a few days
respite ?" said the captive maiden, while her
dovvncast eyes sparkled for a moment with all
their wonted brilliancy. " You will not at once
proceed to extremities ?"
"0, no; I have no reason to do that. You
arc safely in my power, and cannot escape me.
But on second thought I will only give you until
to-morrow morning to deliberate. To night we
are all to have a jollification or carouse, and I
cannot attend to you ; but to morrow morning
the priest shall make us one. We have a priest
here, madam, such a one as he is."
Saying this, the rutTian rose and took his de-
parture, casting a hateful leer upon his hapless
victim, as he left the room, and went whistling
towards the humbler quai*ters of his men.
" So, so !" murmured Kosalie Gilbert, when
she was left alone. " The villains are going to
have a carousa — are they ? They think they
have me securely in their clutches, but they shall
see. Wait a little."
The night set in dark and showery. It was
the commencement of the rainy season, and gray
masses of clouds were gatliering around the
brows of the mountains, and wrapping their dus-
ky forms in shrouds of mist and vapor, and a
fresh land breeze was roughening tlie crests of
the waves, as they leaped and danced about the
island in wild and weird-like forms. But what
cared the corsairs for the gathering storm with-
out, or the leaping of the ocean waves ?
In a large reed built hall, now brightly lighted
by innumerable lamps, was placed a long table,
which fairly groaned beneath the weight of rich
wines and viands, which the pirates had plunder-
ed from many a peaceful bark. At the head of
this table was seated the captain, while ranged
along its sides sat tlie other members of that un-
holy fraternity, now deep in their wassail and
their cups. Songs were sung, speeches made,
oaths and imprecations arose on evei-y side,
while the goblet was drained to the very dregs.
And when there chanced to be a pause in all
this drunken revelry, the soft rain could be heard
pouring down upon the thatched roof like the
mercies of a kind Providence upon a sinful and
ungrateful world.
Let us now return to Rosalie Gilbert. No
sooner had the darkness descended upon the
island, and the uois>es from the banqueting hall
convinced her that the revel had commenced,
than rising to her feet she started out of the
house, and began to reconnoitre the premises.
She was a brave girl, and having been reared
upon the Isle of Wight, she had been familiar
with boats and their management from her earli-
est childhood. So starting off by a circuitous
route, which led her some distance from the lit-
tle village, where she would have been in danger
of meeting with some of the corsairs, she pro-
ceeded at once to the beach abreast of the brig,
where, by good fortune, she found one of the
quarter-boats of the vessel made fast to a huge
palm tree, which threw its dark shadows over
the waters of the creek.
To jump into this boat, cut the painter, and
hoist the jib and mainsail — for she was sloop
rigged, — was but the work of an instant, and the
next she was rapidly flying down the creek
towards the open sea. Rosalie sat boldly at the
helm, and directed the movements of the little
craft; the land breeze filled the light sails, and
in a short time she was rising and falling on the
long and regular swell of the open sea.
Rosalie's plan had been to steer boldly out,
and stand to the northward, trusting to some
passing vessel to rescue her from her peril, and
she accordingly kept the head of the boat in that
direction, until the island faded from her view.
Day after day did the brave girl steer her tiny
hark over the southern sea, and now the few eat-
ables which she bad managed to secure at the
house of the pirate captain, and bring away with
her, were nearly exhausted, and starvation stared
her like some lean and hungry wolf in the face.
Still, she never for one moment regretted the
step she had taken, and rejoiced that though she
might meet with death in one of its most terrible
forms, she had, at least, escaped from infamy,
and preserved her honor without a slain.
At length, one day when exhausted nature
could endure no longer, and the brave and high-'
sjjirited girl was about to sink from her post at
the tiller, she saw a sail away on the very verge
of the Jiorizon. As the time wore on, she became
convinced that the vessel was standing towards
her, and just before sunset she had the pleasure
of knowing that her boat had been descried from
the mast head of the strange vessel, which, from
its immense size, she f^^lt convinced was a man-
of-war.
As the noble vessel came abreast of the boat
of our heroine, she threw her main-topsail to the
mast, and displayed the chequered broadside of
a line-of-battle-ship, and in a few moments one
of her quarter boats was lowered and pulled for
the light craft of Rosalie. She quickly learned
that the ship was the Montague, of seventy-four
guns, to which her lover, Rupert Stansfield, had
been ordered ; but what was her a^^tonishment,
her delight, on ascending the noble ship, to be
met at the gangway by Rupert in person ! Sink-
ing to the deck in a swoon, she was borne by the
young officer to liis state-room, and when she
had sufficiently recovered, he related to her all
that had transpired since their separation.
It seems that when the pirates threw the young
lieutenant overboard, they took it for granted
lliat that would be the last of him, and gave
themselves no further uneasiness about him ; but
being an expert swimmer, he succeeded in get-
ting hold of the rudder-chains of the burning
ship, and when the pirates had taken their de-
parture, finding a plank adrift, he swam to it
and found it sufficiently buoyant to sustain his
weight. On this plank he drifted about tlie
ocean for two days, when he was picked up by
an American brig, and carried into Rio de Ja-
neiro, and at once joined his ship, which was
just about departing for a cruise. The rest the
reader knows.
Rosalie at once gave such information in re-
gard to the pirates as induced the old admiral to
endeavor to find their haunt, and ihe head of
the Montague being turned to the south again,
she steered in that direction until at length the
lofty peaks of tiie island rose to view. The ship
was run in as close to the land as safety would
permit, and lowering down several of her boats,
they were despatciied, well armed and manned,
to capture the corsairs. A desperate conflict
ensued, but in the end British valor was tri-
umphant, and the miscreants were completely
routed and cut to pieces. A large amount of
specie was found at the house of the private cap-
tain, and this the admiral presented to Rosalie,
saying, as he did so, that it was entirely owing to
her courage that the haunt of the gang had ever
been discovered.
Rupert Stansfield is now a baronet, and a
captain in the royal navy. He dwells in a splen-
did mansion in the county of York, has his race-
horses, his dogs, his pleasure yachts, and his
hunting grounds. He has also four fine, fresh-
looking children, and what is more, she who was
once Rosalie Gilbert, is the mother of them.
She is a noble specimen of English matronly
beauty, with the same joyous smile upon her
face that it wore in her girlhood ; and no one, to
look at her, as she moves with dignity and grace
about her husband's halls, would suppose that
the quiet Lady Stansfield had ever paid a flying
visit to Casper Isle, which now, under another
name, still gleams amid the plashing waters of
that sun-lighted southern sea.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A SONG.
BT CAROLINE A. HATDEN.
Far o'er the sea, where the azure sky
Tinges the wave which encircles it round ;
Where the sweet breath of summer is ever nigh,
And the brightest gems of the earth are found.
Come, maiden, come, among all things fair,
I'll treasure thee as the loveliest there.
Come where true warm hearts :ire beating,
Where kindness beams from the soul and the eye ;
Where the stnirger shall meet with a friendly greeting,
And all thing.-! are genial beneath the sky.
Come, maiden, come, among all things fair,
I'll treasure thee as the loveliest there.
"When destiny hung a dark curtain around me,
And I stood like the doomed on the verge of despair ;
Thy forni, like an angel, shed sunlight around me,
And scattered the mist fate was gathering there.
Then come, maiden, come, among all things fair,
I *11 treasure thee as the loveliest there.
Our first fault, like the prolific poppy of Abou-
tage, produces seeds innumerable. The wind
wafts them away, and we know not when they
fail or wlxere they rise; but this we know, that
they meet us at every step upon the path of life
and strew it with plants of bitterness.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE BOOK OF THE FUTURE.
BY OWES G. WARREN.
If man possessed the art to break
The seven-fold seals, and look,
With sacrilegious eyes, upon
The future's open book j
Had he the power to look beyond
The vast infinity.
And trace his march of progress on,
In ages yet to be ; —
It were a malison more fell
Than has on man been laid ;
Since in his happy Edcu bower
Adam first disobeyed;
Yet all look forth, and seek to see
The path they yet shall tread ;
And seek to scan the wide-spread scene,
Far o'er the future spread.
The book of fate before us lies,
Let each the lesion heed ;
The opened page we all may see.
The ne.\t one none may read.
Full fast enough the leaves will turn,
For human pains and strife ;
And unto all who read it right,
Twill be the book of life.
DODDRIDGE IN HIS LIBRARY.
Entering his well-stored library, we see him
suri'ounded by groups of listeners, going from
shelf to shelf, and giving a viva voce catalogue,
which displays a surprising extent of knowledge,
and recommending at what period of their
course, and with what special views, particular
books should be read, and which of them it is
desirable they should be most familiarly ac-
quainted with when settled in the world. And
now in he comes, with a merry laugh and a lu-
dicrous anecdote. A little girl had just been
playing with a dog, and nursing it in her lap, as
he sat in the old-fashioned window seat. " And
do you know," she gravely asked, " who made
you?" A look of blank wonder from the ques-
tioned animal was, of course, all that followed.
" Shame on you," proceeded the young interro-
gator, with grave reproof; " you Dr. Doddridge's
dog, and not know who made you !" " And if,"
after relating the comical story, he adds, ".so
much is expected from my dog, what may be
expected from my students ?" — Stoughton's Life
of Doddridije.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LIFE'S DARK HOURS.
B; JOSEPH E. BDTLEB.
0, 1 am sad ! thou art nob here !
Thy gentle band I cannot press ;
Wy anguish wiiDgs the burning tear,
While strangers gaze on my distress.
My couch is comfortless, and sleep
Ilath fled these weary eyelids now j
No soothing word forbids to weep,
No tender hand is on my brow.
Dismal night's lagging hours depart.
And merning's sun no joy can bring j
For still will bleed my breaking heart,
And thorns — not roses — round it spring.
Must thus my setting day go down,
Without affection's smile, or eye
To scatter sorrow's gloomy froiin,
And soothe my bosom ere I die ?
God I grant me patience ! nerve my soul
To hope, and bear this hard decree,
That bids affliction's waters roll
Their fiery billows over me I
Or shorten, by thy sovereign will,
The wretched hours that now are mine ;
Speak " peace," and bid my mind be still,
Or take the spirit that is thine.
KEEP THE HEART ALIVE.
The longer I live, the more expedient I find it
to endeavor more and more to extend my sym-
pathies and affections. The natural tendency
of advancing yeai's is to narrow and contract
these feelings. I do not mean that I wish to
form a new and sworn friendship every day, to
increase my circle of intimates; these are very
difierent aflairs ; but I find it conduces to my
mental health aud Iiappiuess to find out all I can
which is amicable and lovcablc in those I come
in contact with, and to make the most of it. It
may fall very short of what I was once wont to
dream of; it may not supply the place of what I
have kno\vn, felt and tasted, but it is better than
nothing; it seems to keep the feelings and affec-
tions in exercise; it keeps the heart alive in its
humanity ; and, till we sliail be all spiritual, this
is alike our duty and our interest. — Btrnard
Barton.
LIFE.
I once said to an agreeable misanthrope, who
had introduced to me a young friend of his :
" Your friend, my dear sir, has no worldly tact ;
he knows notliing whatever of the usages of life."
" Ah," said R., " lie is already as mournful and
downcast as if knew every tittle of that of which
you reproach him with utter ignorance." — Cham-
foit.
One swallow docs not make a summer. — Old Pr^vtrb.
TRUE HOSPITALITY.
I pray you, 0 excellent wife, cumber not your-
self or me to get a curiously rich dinner for tbis
man or woman who has alighted at our gates ;
nor a bedchamber made at too great a cost ;
these tilings, if they are curious in ihem, they
can get for a few shillings in anyvilla<ie; but
rather let the stranger see, if you will, in your
looks, accents and behaviour, your heart and ear-
nestness, your thought and will, which he cannot
buy at any price in any city, and which he may
well travel twenty miles, and dine sparely and
sleep hardly to behold. Let not the emphasis of
hospitality lie in bed and board; but let truth,
and love, and honor, and courtesy, flow in all thy
deeds. — Emerson.
FOREST HILLS.
The following very fine tribute to departed worth
we cut from the Boston Transcript, and at once
recognize it to be from the pen of a distm-
guished member of the legal profession of tliis
city. Knowing the occasion that draws forth
this poetical expression of heart promptings,
we see peculiar beauty in the lines.
O'erhanging boughs should shade that Quiet spot
Where sleeps the gentlest form that Heaven eie sent,
And flowers should bloom around the shrine of one
Whose hfe a pure celestial perfume lent,
The passing stranger pauses not to gaze.
With worldling thoughts upon this sacred sod ;
But reads — and ponders as he stoops to read, —
'■ The pure in heart, indeed, shall see their God!"
Tis like thyself! — For through thy holy life
Sweet thoughts of heaven and aacred things were thine ;
Earth's beauties moved thee ; — but in all, thy soul
That Goodness saw, which heaven-sent beams divine I
Blow soft, ye breezes I As ye sweep along,
Let not your angry discord reach this spot ;
For, one who calmed life's wilder passions, here
Sleeps iu peace ! Beware, jou mar it not !
Or if you come, let it in murmurs be
Soft as the requiem, which bright angels sigh.
Who watch and guard this shaded spot, to guide
Her angel spirit to its home on high 1
In such a spot thy spirit loved to muse.
And with the spirits of the dear ones gone
To hold sweet converse Uere, beneath tbis shad©
Ag;iin I feel thee I — Yes, — 1 'm not alone !
Thy mem'ry, dearest, — how much cherished, loved,
This richly sculptured scroll but feeblj tells ;
But deeper far than sculptured art can carve.
In my deep heart of hearts it buiied dwells. p.
OBSTACLES TO REFORM.
Before anything wise or good can be done, in-
numerable people have to be persuaded, or out-
voted, or tired out. All the possible folly that
can be said on any subject, has to be answered,
and borne with, and exhausted. The chatf has
to be winnowed away many times before the
grain can be got at at all. One conclusion from
this, in my mind is, that, as more power of all
kinds is allowed to the individuals in modern
constitutions (as, for instance, he has more pow-
er of obstruction), more is demanded from him
in the way of individual thought and exertion
for the public good. — Arthur Helps.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
EDDV AND WILLIE.
BY COXRAD S. KrSEB.
Eddy, with eyea deep aud blue,
And lips of the loveliest red ;
Cheeks of a starlight hue,
Where the fresh bloom of liLiefi are ehed.
Hair like the golden glow
That lingers on hiil-tops at mom ;
A neck and a boaom below,
That rival the whitest thorn.
Willie, with eyes dark and bright,
A blossom so sparkling and fjiir ;
The tinge on his cheek, like the ligh t
Of a soft, crimson blush, on the air.
Both are like flowers of gold.
Fragrant and fair to the sight ;
Both do a treasure unfold,
And in our hearts cause a well of delight.
IIARITS.
Like flakes of snow that fall unperceived upon
the earth, the seemingly unimportant events of
life succeed one another. As the snow gathers
together, so are our habits formed. No single
flake that is added to the pile produces a sensible
change ; no single action creates, however it may
exhibit, a man's character; but as the tempest
hurls the avalanche down the mountains, and
overwhelms the inhabitant and his habitation, so
passion, acting upon the elements of mischief
whicii pernicious habits have brought together
by imperceptible accumulation, may overthrow
the edifice of truth and YinaQ.—-Jere'mij Bent/utm.
RURAL TASTE.
There are, probably, more pretty rui-al liomcs
within ren miles of Boston, owned by tho.se who
live in ihcm, than ever sprung up in so short a
space of time in any part of the world. The
taste once formed there, it lias become contagi-
ous, and is diffusing iiself among all conditions
of men. and gradually elevating and making
beautiful tlie whole neighboiJiood of that popu-
lous city. Scarcely anything can be more cliarm-
ing than thus ruralizing the tnvirons of city
residence.— Doicnivg.
300
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
ICIIAKOE ISLAND.
TIic pictures which wo present to tho renders
of the Pii'torial on this pnf;o piirticu'iirly refer to
the islanil of Ichuhoc, and the mode of shippin^^
punno, l>y vessels ciitcuf^ed in the riMdc, Imtii to
Enf;;land and Ariiiriai. The supply ol" thr iirti-
cio seems to ho almost incxhuustihie, iind as
rc)j;ards its value in a horticultural point of view
there can be but one opinion. Tho small island
known as lehaboo, has thus become of immenfie
importance in commercial respects, and is tho
seat of much business. While California and
Au-itralia are yielding poldcn
stores in shape of the glittering
metal itself, lehaboo and tho
Lobos Islands, on our own
South American coast, are af-
fording a no less important
yield of an article that proves
of great and important bcnotit
in agriculture. The trade is
becoming a legitimate branch
of commerce, and employs
much shipping, and many able
hands, and a large amount of
capital — all atfording a high
per ccntage for the investment
of time, money and enterprise.
One of the most interesting
questions now pending of a na-
tional character is touching our
rii^hr to operate Ujfon the guano
islands off the coast of Peru.
Ichaboe Island lies ott' tiie west-
ern coast of Africa, within one
mile and a half from the main,
and forty-one miles to tho
northward of Possession Isl-
and, which is in latitude 26
dog. 57 min. south, longitude
15 dcg. 8 min. cast. Ichaboe
is but about one mile in cir-
cumference ; on the east side
fhips may anchor in perfect
safety, in hve fathoms of water ;
aiiout two cables' length from
iu shore, a convenience of great
moment in connexion with the
new trade in guano. Great
numbers of the riirht whsUe
strike on this part of the coast
about the middle of June, when
they may easily be taken. In
the months of October and Mo-
vembcr, the i-^land is literally
covered with jnckass penguins
and gannets, which convene
here for the purpose of laying and incubation.
The shores are also much resorted to hy multi-
tudes of fur-seal. The southeast p irt of the bay,
on the main land, directly opposite the island, is
the tinest place on this part of the coast for jerk-
ing beef, it being only four miles from a Hotten-
tot village; aud the springs of fresh water will
supply any number of cattle. It is, however, to
being' the "depository of guano, in almost incred-
ible quantities, that Ichaboe owes its importance ;
and this information is stated to have originated
in the following passage in Morreirs " Narrative
of a Voyage to the South and West Coast of Af-
rica :" — " The surface of this
island is covered with birds'
manure to the depth of twenty-
five feet." Upon this, Lieuten-
ant Petrie, R. N., who has ju?.t
reprinted Morrell's " Narra-
tive," remarks : " Our author
was quite aware of both the
name and nature of guano; ^
but, as it possessed less interest ~
than other objects of traffic with
which he was surrounded, he
does not enlarge upon the dis-
covery. In his fii'st voyage,
when at St. Lobos on the coast
of Peru, the bird manure is
again mentioned, under the
Spanish name of (/iianar. It is, =^
says he, probably, the richest
manure in the world, and is in
sufficient quantity to load thou-
sands of ships." Lieutenant
Petrie, in his appendix to Mor-
rell's " Narrative," says : *' The
trade in guano, which has been
lately opened to the coast of
Africa, has not only raised high
hopes as to its beneficial eifccts
in improving agriculture, by
affording an abundance of the
richest manure, but on the com-
merce, and especially on the
shipping interests of the coun-
try, it has already occasioned
considerable improvement. Ev-
erything relating to it, there-
fore, is a matter of importance,
and even the natural history of
the article is something more
than a mere matter of curiosity.
Its name, it would appear, is
of Peruvian derivation, and has
been called in the language of
the natives huano, the meaning
of which is dung or manure; but the Spaniards
now name it guano, or r/nanar. The aborigines
on the coast of Peru seem to have used guano
from time immemorial as manure ; and at the
time of the European discovery of the country
strict laws had been enacted by the Ineas, to
guard the islands in which it is found, and to
punish with death even those wlio killed the sea-
fowls from which it was derived. Much dou'it
was entertained for some time after being brought
to this country, with regard to the origin of gua-
no ; the Spaniard.3 early questioned that which
seemed to liavc been clear to the inhabitants of
Peru; hut chemical examination, and other evi-
dence, leave it no longer undetermiuerl, that the
enormous accumulations of this matter on sea
islands, in various localities, i.s nothing more
than the droppings of the myriads of fowls which
inhabit them for tlie purpose of rest and incuba-
tion." In this connection, we may introduce a
little anecdote given in Harpers' Magazine, a
spicy illustration of Yankee pre-occupancy.
There is a good deal of talk, in these latter days,
about the articlcof guano : the right of discovery
WELIilNGTON AND IVAPOLKON.
It Inis been said that tlie Duke of VVellinglon
never wrote a des|mtch in which the word i>uTv
did not occur, and that Nupoleon never wrote a
despatch to which llieword glukv was wanting.
That is the ditl'cretice between the two men, and
tlje two countries to which ihey Itelongcd It
was tliat moral superiority that made Welling-
ton the (in-\I victor. As a mere general, the
Duke of Wellingtoji was immeasurably the in-
fei'ior of Napoleon. Napoleon displayed more
genius in any one campaign, than Wellington
A VIEW OF THE ISLAND OF ICHABOE.
of the islands where it is obtained, and the like.
We remember to have heard something about
the discovery and occupation of the first of these
islands, that of Ichaboe, which made us " laugh
consumedly ;" and we have been thinking that a
thorouijh exploration of the Lobos Islands might
result in a similar discomfiture to the "grasping
Britishtrs." It seems that a party of English-
men, claiming to have discovered the island of
Ichaboe, landed from a British vessel upon that
" rich " coast, and a]ipreciating the great agri-
cultural value of its minerals, walked up to the
top of the heap, to crow on their own dunghill,
did in hi- whole life ; but the dogged man of du-
ty triumphed at length over the brilliant man of
glory ; so it was in the beginning, is now, and
ever shall be. The Frenchman may laugh at
tlie stolidity and stupidity of the Englishman,
but so long as the one race is capable of believ-
ing in the august and commanding nature of du-
ty, and the other race is not, England's suprem-
acy will be maintained. Imagine the two gener-
als, Wellington and Napoleon, changing armies !
What fishes out of water they would both have
been! Those flaming Napoleonic bulletins and
harangues that u^ed to set the French army all
CIRCUS IN OOAHrANTIAOPLK.
One evening I went to the grand Circo Olimpivo
— an eipiestrian cntertuiimient in a vast circular
tent, on a piece of open ground up in Pcra ; and
it was as curious a sight as one could well wit-
ness. The play-bill was in three languages-
Turkish, Armenian and Italian ; and the audi-
ence was composed almost entirely of Levan-
tines, nothing but fezzes being seen round the
benches. There were few females present, and
of Turkish women none; but the houftC was well
filled, both with spectators and the smoke from
the pipes, which all of them
carried. There was no buzz of
talk, no distant bailings, nor
whistlings, nor sounds of impa-
tience. They all sat as grave
as judges, and would, I believe,
have done so for any period of
time, whether the performances
had been yivcn oi not. I have
said the sight was a curious
one, but my surprise was ex-
"-1^ cited beyond bounds when a
j^ real clown — a perfect " Mr.
'^_ Merryman " of the arena —
-z _^^ jumped into the ring, and cried
-=^^^ out in perfect English : " Here
we are again, all of a lump!
How are you ?" There was no
— response to this salutation, for
it Wixs evidently incoinprclien-
sible ; so it fell flat, and the
poor clown looked as if he
would have given his salary for
a boy to have called for '* Hot
Codlins !" I looked at the bill,
and found him described as the
" Gro(esco Inqhse" Whittany.
I did not recognize the name
in connection with the annals
of Astley's, but he was a clever
fellow, notwithstanding; and
when he addressed the master
of the ring, and observed : "If
^ you please, Guillaume, he says
that you said, that I said, that
they said, that nobody had said
nothing to anybody," it was
with a drollery of manner that
at last agitated the fezzes like
poppies in the wind, although
tfie meaning of the speech was
still a sealed book with them.
I don't know whether great
writers of eastern travel would
have gone to this circus but
yet it was a strange sight. For aught that one
could tell, we were about to see all the mishaps
of Billy Button's journey to Brentford, repre-
sented in their vivid discomfort, upon the shores
of the Bosphorus, and within the range of the
sunset shadows of the minarets from St! Sophia !
The company was a very fair one, and they went
through the usual programme of the amphithe-
atre. One clever fellow threw a bullet in the
air, and caught it in a bottle during a "rapid
act;" and another twisted himself among the
rounds and legs of a chair, keeping a glass full
of wine in his mouth. They leaped over lengths
of stair carpet, and through
hoops, and did painful things,
as Olympic youths and lion
vaulters of Arabia. The at-
traction of the evening, how-
ever, was a very handsome girl
— Madalena Guillaume — with
a fine Gitani face and exquisite
figure. Her performance con-
sisted in clinging to a horse,
with merely a strap hung to its
side. In this she put one foot,
and flew round the ring in the
most reckless manner, leaping
with the horse over poles and
gates, and hanging on appa-
rently by nothing, until the
fezzes were in a quiver of de-
light, for her costume was not
precisely that of the Stamboul
ladies. — AlUrt Smith.
ICHABOE MOi'E OF SHIPPING GUANO.
and take possession of it in the name of her maj-
esty the queen, with the usual form of breaking
a bottle of Madeira, and other like observances.
While they were thus taking possession, however,
one of the party, more :idventurous than the
rest, made his way to the farther slope of a high-
er eminence, and saw, to his utter discomfiture
and consternation, a Bangor schooner rocking
in a little cove in tlie island, a parcel of Yankees
digging into its sides, and loading the vessel.
He reported to Ids parly what he had seen, and
the ceremony of takmg possession was stopped.
ablaze with enthusiasm, would have been simply
laughed at by the English soldier. Nor could
the solid English have executed those brilliant
aspirations of Napoleon, by wliieh a forced march
of a few weeks sometimes made a whole cam-
paign his own. Wellington, on the other hnnd,
could have done nothing with a French army.
It would have ridiculed his caution and bluntness
of speech, sunk under his discipline, and run
away from every foe. A Fi-onchman <-an no
more fight, tluui a balloon can ascend, without
inflation.— //o»*e Journal.
ROTARY STEAM PLOUGH.
This is the name of a new
plough just introduced among
the agriculturalists of Scotland.
The ploughs, or rather iron
horns, which act as ploughs, re-
volve on a shaft like a water
wheel. It stirs about three feet
of earth at once, and ."o scatters
and pulverizes it as to make it
look like the work of a spade.
It moves with a velocity of
5500 yards per hour, ploughing
about six acres in one day.
_ The price of it is .£300 or
^_ $1455. It requires an engi-
neer and two laborcis to attend
it. It will never be introduced
into America, for the reason
that it is too large and expen-
sive. But while it will not be-
come domesticated with us, it
will be a production of much good. It will
show our farmers what is doing in other parts of
the world to make steim power subservient to
man in tilling the eartli. It will, no doubt, also
aflbrd many good hints to some of our invent-
ors, for steam power will yet be cmi)loyed more
extensively for agricultural purposes than it is
at present. This plough, when not tilling, can
be thrown out of gear with the engine, which can
then be made by pulley and belt to drive a thresh
ing machine and many other machines. — Scien-
tijic American.
GLEASON'S PTCTOTIIAL DRA\YINrx ROOM COMPANION.
301
vC\.\.X.-v->.--^.-^'. V -■^-. 1- V-.---I- ■- ."^--^ ---\.\/-iA.-i--^-v--v-i-V\<-i.-\,iA,\t:
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietok.
MATURIN M. BALLOTT, Editos.
CO^TEi^TS OF OUR NEXT KUfllBER.
" The Voung Doctor's First Patient," a story by Mrs.
S. P. Doughty.
'' Uncle Jefferson and his Niece," a story by Geo. Can-
ning Hill.
"Tnivels in Palestine," No. XIT, describing Tiberias
and its Like, by Kev. P. W. Holl.^nd.
"Turkey and the Turks," No. X, referring to the Ar-
mory at Constantinople, by Dr. Jerome V. C- Smith.
" Autographs and Autogmphy," \o. XI, by William
Edw.^rd Knowles, giving the signatures of J. G. Spear,
W. L. Stone, Joseph K. Butler, M. St. Leon Loud, T. Q.
Hawks, Wm. Laodor, H. J. Legare and G. Mellen.
■' Beauty's Offering," lines, by Joseph H, Butler.
" Napoleon." verses, by Caroline A, HAvnEX.
" The Distant City," lines, by 0. G. Warren.
*■ Winter is coming," poem,by E. Cotriss Hine,U. S.N.
"Here in the silent shadowings,' by R. Griffin Sta-
PL1!S.
''Autumnal Musings," lines, by Josepb W. Nye.
" The Crucifixion,"' poem, by Susan U. Blaisdell.
*' Annie May,'" verses, by Asgie H. Biuklow.
ILLirSTBATIONS.
We shall present in our nest, a fine monumental design
to tne niemoiy of the late Hon. Daniel Webster, repre-
Fenting his country weeping his loas, and Liberty laying a
crown at his feet.
A representation of the residence of Mr. Webster, at
Marshfield
AIbo, a view of the room in which thia eminent states-
man breathed hia last.
A fine series of pictures illustratiog the city of Xew-
buryport, Muss. All by our artist, Ulr. Kilbuni.
Giving first, a very fine engraving of Putnam's Free
School, Newburyport.
Second, a correct and well drawn view of Newburyport,
taken from Salisbury.
Third, a picture repre.'ienting the Essex Merrimack Sus-
penaiuD Bridge, a picturesque structure.
Fourth, a very line picture representing the famous
Oak Hill Cemetery, Newburyport.
Fifth, an elaborate and well drawn picture of the City
H:iU, Newburjtport.
A large and elegant picture of a statue of the Duke of
Wellington.
An admirable likeness of the Hon. Abbott Lawrence,
our late mtniscer at the court of St. James, by our artist,
JVir. tioicse.
A fine engraving of the great Water Cure Establishment
of the West, at Harrodsourg, Ky.
PITTSBURG COURT HOUSE.
On our last page, we give an artistic view of
this beautiful edifice. It stands on one of the
highest points in the city. It is a most magnifi-
eent structure ; in fact, it has no equal of its
kind west of the mountains. It was built in
1840. The picture exhibits, in the view from
the north, on the extreme left, a portion of the
jail building, or the sheriff's residence. To the
right is seen a portion of a frame building, some
two hundred yards to the south, in which Louis
Philippe, ex-king of France, resided when an
exile in this country many years ago. The pic-
ture is a fine one, and well exhibits the architec-
tural beauties of the building.
SPLINTERS.
The Lynn City Guards is a fine, soldier-
like looking company.
Pickpockets are as plenty as blackberries
in Boston. The police are busy.
.... The new lord mayor of London is a
butcher by trade. This looks republican.
Warren, with his inimitable drollery is
still the "bright particular" of the Museum.
.... The course of lectures before the Mer-
cantile Library, this winter, will be brilliant.
.... Kossuth's sister has opened a boarding-
school in New York city, comer of 14th street.
.... Many persons in Boston declare Alboni
to be superior to Jenny Lind.
Great activity is now manifested in our
navy. "In time of peace," etc.
We grasped the hand of General Wool,
a day or two since; a true gentleman and soldier.
.... Alboni was much delighted with Boston
and environs, visiting Bunker Hill, etc.
. . . Rufus Choate is said to realize 820,000
per annum by his profession.
.... Thank Heaven, our exchanges are fast
getting over their political fever.
We leai-n by the papers that there are
thirteen churches in San Francisco.
Goethe said that modern poets put a
great deal of water in their ink !
Wanted to know, if the bullet ever paid
anything for lodging in the man's thorax ?
We have already some elegant improve-
ments in hafnd for the next volume of the Pictorial,
PRESIBENTIAL ELECTIONS.
Before these pages meet the eye of the reader,
the presidential contest will have been decided,
and the political complexion of the administra-
tion of the United States for the next four years
settled. We are now writing in the midst of the
hurly-burly and excitement of the battle ; the
papers that lie before us on the table are full of
us fierce philippics as those which graced the
amiable columns of the "Independent" and the
" Eatonsville Gazette," so humorously chroni-
cled in the Pickwick papers. We thank our
stars that ours is not a political sheet.
To foreign travellers among us these election-
eering episodes in our career are full of interest.
An Englishman is not at all surprised at them.
The violence of political contests in his own
country is fully equal to that which disgraces
the most excitable localities in ours. The hust-
ings of the small provincial towns of England
frequently exhibit as turbulent scenes as are ever
enacted in the fourth ward of New York. It is
not an unusual thing to pelt a candidate with
what are politely termed "unmerchantable eggs !"
Here such an insult is never offered to a stump
speaker. The Englishman is used to seeing pro-
cessions bearing banners with the threatening in-
scription " Bread or Blood !" But he is not
alarmed, for he knows that the most menacing
assemblage of starving Chartists is easily dis-
persed by a few constables and policemen, and
that the first blast of a cavalry trumpet is sure to
startle a monster mob to the four winds of
heaven.
On a French spectator of these scenes, the
effect is very different. We remember of being
very much amused, a few years since, by the
prognostications of a French gentleman, recently
from Paris, in the midst of one pf our most ex-
citing political contests. He was fresh from the
focus of revolutionary France, that amiable
country where blood is the sovereign panacea
for all the political ills that man is heir to. He
had attended one or two political meetings, read
daily four or five rabid partizan papers, and after
a residence of four weeks, considered himself
perfectly acquainted with American character,
and able to prognosticate coming events with
unerring correctness.
" Sir," said he, solemnly, " I tremble for the
perpetuity of your institutions."
We smiled.
" You are incredulous, my friend," he con-
tinued ; " but I tell you that a crisis has arrived
in your political affairs."
" You think so ?"
"I beg your pardon," said he, "holding up a
finger," as Leatherstocking did when the prairie
was on fire ; " but to-morrow they will build
barricades in Boston !'*
We could not help laughing heartily in spite
of the dictates of politeness; the idea of barri-
cades being so exquisitely absurd. Our French
friend went to bed at an early hour, after clean-
ing his pistols, and expressing a resolve to see
the emeute, as he called it, out, and desired to be
called when the roll-call was beat by our " Na-
tional Guard." He was surprised and disap-
pointed when he found the day pass off without
any bloody demonstration, and could scarcely
believe his eyes when he saw Col. Greene chat-
ting pleasantly with the editor of the Atlas, for
he had arranged a duel between these gentlemen
to come off without fail — " no postponement on
account of the weather !"
Health of the City. — Our citizens have
great cause for thankfulness in the continued
good health of Boston. While nearly every
other large city in the Union has suffered by
some sort of epidemic, ours has been spared.
Beyond a doubt this is the healthiest city in the
country,
" The Spanish Musketeer." — The contin-
ued demand for this military novelette, the
scenes of which are laid in Cuba, has induced us
to issue a fresh edition of it, and we can now
answer all orders for the same. It may be found
at the periodical depots throughout the country.
Gleason's Pictori.\l Draw IX a-R com Companion, pub-
lished weekly, in Boston, at S4.00 per annum. We do not
often notice the millinery magazines or trashy newspapers
issued by the city presses, because they are mostly got up
for the purposes of speculation, and to impose on the pub-
lic. But the above work is of a wholly different character,
and deserving of a wide support. It is, in fact, exactly
what it purports to be, a drawing-rooDi companion. The
illustrations are executed in a beautiful style, and each
number is filled with them. The letter-press and paper
are excellent.— Whig Press, Middle-town-, N. Y.
Vert good. — A woman out West having
been convicted of having two husbands, a cotem-
porary says, she loved not wisely but fu-o well.
DEATH OF 3IR. WERSTER.
Hardly had the public mind found repose after
the departure of one of America's most gifted
sons — Henry Clay, — ere a new chord of grief
struck upon the ear, vibrating from one extremity
of the Union to the other, bemoaning the death of
Daniel Webster, the great masterspirit of the na-
tion—one who stood before the world in the glory
of lofty and commanding intellect, patriotism
and genius ; a statesman wise and prudent, a
scholar ripe and thorough, an orator skillful and
unrivalled, a lawyer shrewd and profound, a di-
plomatistkecn and sagacious. His voice is silent
in death. His life, so long and brilliant, his ser-
vices so varied and useful, his triumphs so grand
and lustrous, will now be matter of history.
"Daniel Webster was born at Salisbury, N. H.,
Jan 18th, 1782. He graduated from Dartmouth
College, in 1801. He entered the law otfice of
Hon. Christopher Gore, of Boston, having pre-
viously given a portion of his time to the study
of law. In 1805 he was admitted a member
of the Massachusetts bar. He first pursued his
profession at BOscawen, in his native State, but
afrer the death of his father, in 1807, he removed
to Portsmouth, where, coming in contact with
that distinguished lawyer, Hon. Jeremiah Mason,
his mind first developed its wonderful powers.
In 1812 he was elected a representative in Con-
gress from New Hampshire. — He was also re-
elected in 1814. In 1816 he removed to Boston,
devoting his energies and intellect to the duties
of his profession. He met with the most bril-
liant success, and at once became the star of the
bar. Jn 1820, he was a meniberof a convention
to revise the constitution of Massachusetts. In
the same year he delivered his celebrated ad-
dress at the 200th anniversary of the landing at
Plymouth. Jn 1822, he was elected from Bos-
ton, a member of the House of Representatives
of the United States, and in 1826, he was elected
to the Senate of the United States. In Jan., 1 830,
Mr. Webster made his famous constitutional ar-
gument in the Senate in answer to Gen. Hayne,
of South Carolina. In 1833, he visited Europe.
In March, 1841, he entered the Cabinet of Pre-
sident Harrison as Secretary of State, and con-
tinued in office during the administration of Mr.
Tyler until May, 1843. In 1842, he negociated
at Washington, with Lord A.diburton, the im-
portant treaty in relation to the north-eastern
boundary. In 1845, Mr. Webster was again re-
turned to the Senate of the United States, of
which he continued a distinguished member up
to the time of his appointment by President Fill-
more to the oflice of Secretary of State, July 11,
1850. On the 7th of March, 1850, he made his
memorable speech on the Compromise Measures
— an effort which will ever remain a proud mon-
ument to his patriotism. The departure of Mr.
Webster closes the earthly career of that trio of
statesmen who have conferred immortal honor
on their country — Calhoun, Clay, Webster."
In our next Pictorial we shall present some
sketches relating to this mournful event.
EATING.
We most firmly believe, that if animals could
speak, as jEsop and other fabulists make them
seem to do, they would declare man the most vo-
racious animal in existence. There is scarcely any
living thing that files in the air, swims in the
sea, or moves on the land, that is not made to
minister to his appetite. The Esquimaux de-
vours raw fish; the Tartars eat horse flesh ; the
South Sea Islanders are fond of dogs ; the Afri-
cans relish ants and monkeys ; the Chinese think
rats, mice and cats exquisite delicacies ; the
polished Parisian is partial to frogs ; the Italians
regale themselves with a jelly made of vipers;
the entrails of snipes are eaten with avidity
among us at game suppers by all true epicures ;
while the New Zealander's favorite dish is a
roasted missionary !
Perhaps, if the aforesaid animals were capable
of discrimination as well as speech, they would
declare the Yankees the most voracious of a vo-
racious family. And who that is familiar with
hotel and steamboat life, would deny the trutli
of the assertion ? What valorous trencher-men
we are, when, after having been with difficulty
kept back by bolts and bars and an army of
black waiters, while the supper-table is being set,
we dash upon the viands at the first summons of
the welcome gong or bell ! How the oysters,
and ham, and jellies, and hot rolls, and biscuits
disappear! What remorseful agonies and inex-
orable nightmares ensue !
The "Mameluke." — We are gratified to
know that the readers of the Pictorial are highly
pleased with this fine story, now running through
our pages. It is written in a chaste and elegant
style, and is historically truthful.
Theatrical. — The new National has opened
under the most favorable auspices. Mr. Leon-
ard is a liberal and intelligent manager.
In this city, Mr. Wm. H. Pillsbury, of Southampton,
N. H., to Miss Mary S. Dennett, of Salisbury. Mass.
By ilev. Phineas Stow, Mr. James Ackler to Miss Mar-
garet Reed, both of Boston.
By Rev. Dr Stow, Mr, .John B. Bailey,of Nashua, X. H.,
to Miss Martha G. Bacon, of Yarmouth, Me.
Mr. Anton William Kolbe to Miss Christiene Henner.
Mr. Alfred Ealch to Miss fanny M. Buntin.
At Chelsea, by Hauilett Bates, Esq , Mr. .Tames Con-
nelly to Miss Mary Meehin.
At East Cambridge, by Rev. Mr, Spalding, Mr. Oren
Dolbear to Miss Ann C. Frame.
At Lynn, Mr. George P. Crawford to Mips Nancv Maria
Deland. "^
At Salem, by Rev. Mr Mills, Mr. Mark Graves, of Bos-
ton, to Miss Abby M. Stone.
At Danvers, by Joseph Shed, Esq., Mr. Thomas B. Pad-
dnck to Miss Caroline S. Woodbury.
At Gloucester by Rev. Mr. Aiken, Mr Nathan Nor-
wood, Jr., to Miss Mnry Jane Rogers.
At Lowell, by Dr. Lawrence. Mr. George H. Stone to
Miss Louisa G. Ladd.
At Haverhill, by Rev. Mr. Mason, Mr. Charles Gage to
Miss Martha A. Carleton.
At Fall Kiver, by Rl-v. Mr. Upham, Mr. Francis Harri-
son to Miss Abby A. Ricketson.
At New Bedford, by Rcr. Mr. Howe, Mr. Anselm Davis
to Mrs. Sally D. Bloss^om.
At Whately, by Rev. Mr Eastman, Mr. Lyman Rawaon
to Miss Cynthia Nuttiog.
-"^^^ DEATH S-
In this city, Mrs. Catherine F. W. CaBendar, 78 ; Mrs.
Elizabeth W. Blake, 51 ; Charles Lincoln, Esq , 87; Mr.
Simon Huff, 44; Mrs. Janet L. Fullerton, 78; Mr. George
H. Laggon, 24; Rev. Joseph Lewis, 5b; Mr. .lames L.
Loud, 37.
At East Boston, Mrs. Ruth M. Alden, 29.
At Charlestown, Mrs Harriet A. Doughty, 34.
At Rosbury, Mrs. Maria A. Porter. 28.
At Jamaica Plains, Mrs. Sarah B. Poland, 3.5.
At Brooklinc, Capt. John Woodward, (i2.
At Maiden, Mr. Samuel E. C. Turner, 36.
At Lynn, Miss Maria Breed, 21.
At Salem, Mr. Arad Pomroy, 7G.
At Beverly, Mrs. Sarah Story, 26.
At Marblehead, Mrs. Ellen M. Stuart, 28.
At Danvers, Mrs. Lucy Symonds, 61.
At North Danvers, Capt. John b'elton. 73.
At Lawrence, Mr. Leonard Holoian, 43.
At Randolph, Lyman Belcher, 11,
At Gloucester, Mrs. Emily Nickerson, 24.
At Dracut, Mr. Lendal Underwood, 40.
At Newbury, Miss Harriet E. Stickney, 21.
At Grafton, Mrs. Azuhah S. Laithe, 74.
At Northampton, Mr. Warham Clapp, 82.
At Shrewsbury, Mrs. Mary D. Miles, 79.
At West Sandwich, Mr. Nathanitl Wendell, 60.
At Marshpee, Mr. Alfred Amy, GO.
At Provincetown, Mrs. Saviah H. Small, 31.
At Edgartown, Miss Eliza F. Pease, 21.
At Portsmouth, N. H., Mr. Earnet W. Akerman. 35.
At New Ipawich, N. H., Miss R. Eliza Sawtelle, 28.
At Antrim, N. H.. Mrs. Lucy G. Blanchard, 93.
A sipaiEsriiii ipusssasiia
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL-
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A Record of the beautiful and useful in Art,
The object of this paper is to present. In the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST &MEBICAS AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirelj- original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of everj' populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with line and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and femaic.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the tish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface p.ipcr, from a font of now
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundi-cd and Fixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it aftbrds, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest r.v d
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiaingnll
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
fcombined excellencies,
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM.
INVARIADLT IN ADV.\NCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of lour hundred and sixteen pages each.
[[[T^ One copy of the Flag of our Uxiox, and one copy
of the Pictorial DH.iwiNQ-ltooM Comp-vniqx, one jear,
for So 00.
[C?" The Pictorial Dr.^wino-Room Companion may l.^
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tiitj
countrj-, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
PubUahed every Satuhd.w, bv
F. GLEASON, Boston, M.vas.
WHOLESALE AGENTS,
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CxLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING ROOIM COMPANION.
[Writton for Ok'iiflon's Pictorial.]
THE HEART THAT LOVES TRULY CAN NEVER FORGET.
UV MARY 0. HALPIHO.
ITinl 1 lovod tbco for lionor, had I lovod tbeo for gold,
'Neath lliu utorui of niififortuno my lovo bad grown cold ;
Had I lovod thoo for beauty, had I loved thco for furno,
I nhould have forsook tbco In norrow iiod ahame ;
But I loved not for ricbu-s. I loved tbeo aloue,
And would have sbared with tbeo a cot or a tbrono.
Tbey told me in triumph— tbey tell mo o'cn now,
Thou wurt false to thy honor, and fulho to thy vow;
That tbou wort unworthy of the heart that I gave,
Ix-fls fickle the /.ephyr — more Ptuhlo the wave ;
But their effortH wore vain, wo had met! we bad met!
And the heart that lovea truly can never forget I
Think not that the wealthy may purchase for gold.
The heart's warm alTections— those riches untold ;
That time, change or disttmce can alter my lovo,
That absence may weaken, or elander may move.
Kemomber! remember! by land or by eea,
Whatever may happen, where'er thou may'st be ;
Ah '. gentle lad, with the ej c of blue,
To the troth of our plighting I am true, I am true.
[Written for Gleasou's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. XL
BT EEV. F. W. HOLLAND.
THE JORDAN.
An hour and a half of good riding along a sandy plain brought
\\s to the pilgrim's resting-place on the Jordan, opposite to Beth-
abara, near where the Israelites crossed with their ark, El-Meshra,
as it is called.
The Jordan is the saddest disappointment : instead of the clear,
wide, majestic stream, which the cherished impressions of child-
hood lead everyone to expect, there is nothing but a deep sunken
mountain-torrent, turbid, winding and impetuous. Its highest
source is now ascertained by the examination of our own coun-
trymen to be — not Panias, where travellers have generally been
carried to see tlie fountain head of the holiest of streams — but
Hasbciya, where it boils up from the bottom of a shallow pool,
twenty miles above the ancient Cesarea Philippi. This first por-
tion of the river is the most beautiful, because it courses clearly
through a well cultivated valley, its banks shaded densely by the
sycamore and the willow, and innumerable fishes sporting upon
its crystal bosom. It then begins to fall rapidly through a rocky
gorge, and, after ten miles of constantly enlarging waters, enters
" Lake Hulet," the ancient Merom. In the spring, when I saw i',
it was a seven mile pond, but in midsummer, it was a mere marsh
pastured upon by Arab flocks, trampled over by wild hogs, and
hovered around by myriads of birds. From Lake Merom another
ten miles' course brings the Jordan to the "Lake of Tiberias,"
as the sea of Galilee is now very appropriately named from the
only city remaining on its once crowded shores. This second ex-
pansion of the stream over some ancient volcanic bed, takes up
twelve miles more of the river, and the series of descending rap-
ids and perpetual windmgs then commence which carry it through
two hundred miles in passing over what is actually but sixty
miles of distance from Tiberias to the Dead Sea.
A geographical problem had here to be solved by our expedi-
tion. The sea being a thousand feet below the lake, and no falls
being believed to exist upon the river, how was it possible to
make such a descent within only sixty miles? As the banks of
the river are frequently an impenetrable jungle, and the waters
too low — except for a month or fo in the year — to float a boat of
any size, and the existence of dangerous passes more than sus-
pected, and the character of the people upon the banks unknown
even to European residents in Syria, it was a work of some
bravery, in the face of a British officer's failure, for American sail-
ors to attempt. The result is equally creditable to themselves
and their country : and though not so entirely novel as their dis-
coveries upon the Dead Sea, sets the matter entirely at rest for
the future.
The descent from the Lake of Tiberias was made in a week's
time, by two metal boats, one of copper and one of galvanized
iron— the only native boat having been purchased at Tiberias,
and afterwards aliandoned on the river. As in one place it took
the party two days to get twelve miles — as even at the most fa-
vorable season nothing but metal boats could live through such
fearful rapids — it is evident that the river can never have been of
much use as a highway for travel or tj-affic, and we have no ac-
count of its ever having been for business or pleasure. Twenty-
eeven considerable descents were numbered by Capt. Lynch, be-
sides many of less account — enough to explain, in connexion
with the trebling of the distance by continued changes of course,
an even greater change of level.
A Jewish work, by a rabbi, for many years a resident at -Jeru-
salem, speaks of " the benutiful arbors " along the banks, making
fairy-like gardens. This is mere imagination. The Ghor-vallcy,
liirougb which the river winds its silent way, is particularly cheer-
less and forlorn; sometimes for miles, jt is treeless and verdure-
less, shut in by wild ami stony difts, on wliich the Genius of Des-
olation seems to sit crowned. But, commonly a thicket of wil-
lows, acacias and the "reeds shaken by the wind" fringe the
stream, and make the passage by land as difficult as lo wovk
through the caqebj-ajies pf thp A'ljssissipj;). Indeed, jny coat was
literally torn from my back in endeavoring to get but a few rods
along the sedgy himks ; and, as far as the eye could reach, the
yellow waters were rushing and winding the Hume. 1 never
bathed in such a perfect mill race. The river leaps frantically,
like an insane man hastening to throw away his convulsed life.
Though the eastern pilgrims arc accustomed to bind themselves
together by ropes, as they rush enthusiastically into the cleansing
stream, many lives are sacrificed every ycnr (o the hallowed mem-
ory of the place of the Saviour's baptism. It is always cool and
refreshing; and the only pity is that those who have once felt the
purifying etlects of the hath, should return contentedly to their
besetting sin of uncleanncss.
The most ojiposite opinions of the Jordan may all be ti'ue at
its diUcrcnt seasons. No river varies more. It was twelve feet
deep and over a hundred feet wide where we bathed ; yet at some
seasons it was possible to wade across perhnps fifty feet of water.
Several terraces of land are still oljservcd along the banks, one of
which seemed to be submerged every rainy season, making pi-ob-
ably the overflowing mentioned in the Scripture — yet, nothing
like that to which some other parts of the world arc subject.
From all I could learn, the river may be said to double its width,
and quadruple its depth from August to April.
The streams that empty into the Jordan are mostly but winter-
torrents. Several remains of bridges arc found along its course,
and at least one of Roman structure is yet standing above the
Lake of Galilee. Leopards, but not lions, are sometimes traced
along its banks, and numerous fish are still fo\md in its waters.
From the bank, a rich, cultivated, well-watered plain leads for
some four miles to the wrctchcdest of Arab villages, Rihah, which
pretends to be Jericho, whose mud-covered huts looked so grim
and filthy, that we preferred the chance of passing the night upon
the Mount of Olives to the pi-oH'ered hospitality of the sheik.
Very probably, this is not the ancient Jericho ; and (hough that
has no blessed memory with either Christian or Jew, we were
glad to transfer its position some two miles on, where Bucking-
ham found a few stone remains near the fountain sweetened by
Elisha. A hundred sickly and indolent wretches harbor in what
might be an Eden : the famous groves of palms have disappeared.
One tower yet standing, of Saracenic lime, is pointed out as the
house of Zaccheus ; all the rest are only mud sheds fenced in by
thorn-bushes. The dispute about the location of the ancient
"City of Palms" is satisfactorily dispatched by the fact that
there were several Jerichos, besides the ancient one destroyed by
Joshua, upon which a curse was felt to rest; and that these were
not likely to occupy precisely the same ground, because occupied
for different purposes by changed masters — at one time as a city
of priests, again as the winter retreat of Herod, again as a Roman
and afterward a Saracen stronghold.
Northwest of this loathsome settlement is Quarantana, a lofty
wall of hare rock, perhaps fifteen hundred feet high, the legen-
dary scene of the Saviour's temptation and of the Baptist's preach-
ing. A few monks still tenant its caves during the season of
Lent, and live upon su(;h herbs as grow without care. The
gloom and nakedness of the spot no doubt caused it to be chosen
by the lovers of tradition for those passages of sacred history.
A few miles from Jericho, on the only road to Jerusalem, we
came into the frightful pass where the scene of the " Good Samar-
itan " has been laid — a spot which every one hastens to pass, as
its fame is still bad, and the numerous crevices of the rocks, be-
tween which you are shut in, might conceal a thousand as well
as a single man. A traveller, who should drop behind his party,
would be almost certainly "stripped and wounded," and left half
dead from fear, if no more. A few years ago, an English gen-
tleman lingered a litlle — perhaps at the flowing fountain of the
prophet — and was galloping his swift horse to overtake his friends,
when suddenly bis progress was stopped by a stiff grasp upon his
neck, and before he could speak he lay flat on the ground. A
couple of Arabs sprang to the assistance of their comrade, and
told the gentleman that "his aunt wanted his clothes." Ashe
seemed slow at undressing, they very soon stripped him to the
skin ; and when he plead stoutly for something to cover his naked-
ness, they handed back his hat, informing him that " his aunt had
no need of that." If my iaipression is right, the stupid govern-
ment suffered the outrage to pass unpunished.
By riding till late in the evening, we reached tolerable quarters
in a Bethany cottage ; and early the next morning feasted our-
sehcs again with the superb view from the Mount of Olives. We
were refused admittance at any other gate at Jerusalem than the
southwest one, though wc had to pass the three gates as we made
the circuit. The ancient Golden Gate is entirely blocked up be-
cause of a Moslem story, that, when the Christians pass through
it again, the crescent must sink beneath the cross.
My purpose was, if so favored as to reach the Holy City, to visit
either Petra or Palmyra. But the American friends whom I had
engaged to meet at tins season in Jerusalem, were put six weeks
behind me by being turned hack just as they were entering the
Holy Land across the desert, greatly to their vexation. And,
there was no person to be heard of desirous of visiting either of
these remarkable spots: neither was the season favorable ; forty
or fifty dollars must be paid the Bedouins for the mere permission
to pass through their territory to Petra; and no such permission
could have been obtained, nor would it have secured from robbery
and repulse, in the case of Palmyra. I had suffered, too, from
exposure, fatigue and want of food. My companion was in haste
to see his Parisian home again. The labor of Syrian travel, too,
had proved far gi-eater than I anticipated, and the rewards inli-
nitcly less, So that 1 fjund myself obliged to be content with the
certainty of seeing the magnificent temple at Baalbec, and bask-
ing in the paradise sweets of Damascus ; and for these, and for
what I had already seen, I did IVel deeply grateful.
IWritton for GleMon's Pictorial.]
AUTOGIiAPIIS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTDIGtnSHED UTDrVlDUAlS.
No. X.
BY WM. EDWARD KNOWLEB.
A. J. H. DuGANNE is a spirited and popular writer. His great
fault is permitting his imagination to run away with him ; and in
his extremely unintelligible manuscript, his pen appears to do the
same thins. Printers do not like such "copy." Yet Mr. Du-
ganne has written many fine poems and much good prose.
CLdluT^^
'i>
The chirography of Mr. Weld is very illegible and scratchy.
Yet he possesses genius of the highest order, and has been con-
nected with the press for a number of years. The signature ia
better than the majority of his manuscript.
J<£^ r.ift
C^Ty^'O-'/
The Hon. Joii!^ P. Kennedy writes a heautifnl manuscript.
It ha^ much slope and gracefulness. Should he direct his atten-
tion more to literature, his success as an author would be un-
bounded. The signature is rather more pdlte than it commonly is.
The handwriting of the Rev. J. T. Headley is a noble one,
and evinces a high-born originality. His works are too well
known to need comment here. His letters are all well written,
and end as well as they Ijegin. We know of no more promising
an author than Headley. He bids fair to rank amongst our first
descriptive writers. The signature is bad in comparison with the
majority of his manuscript.
WV\ iKSvkji,.
L
\V\. iXy QtyLJ-O
CiiABLEs Sprague, of Boston, is a beautiful poet. His
" Winged Worshippers " is unexcelled by any other production,
of its length, in our language. And the exti-act from " Curiosity,"
' The Burial at Sea," is replete with mournful tenderness.
That he has ceased writing is regretted by every lover of good
poetry. The signature has much grace, but little force or energy.
As Mr. Sprague is cashier of the Globe Bank, his autograph dif-
fers in value; and when attached to a SIOOO note would, of course,
bring that amount.
A.G,«a^
Our readers are familiar with the writings of Geo. Canning
Hill, as a contributor to the Pictorial, and have long since formed
a rao.st favorable opinion of him as a writer. His manuscript is
very uniform, neat and distinct, and is liked by the " compositor."
Mr. Hill sustains no ordinary merit as a poet.
Of Major Ben : Peeley Pooee, our readers are well informed
liy his own finished and very delightful contributions lo the Pir-
tori.al. His signature is a good sample of his handwriting. We
never saw a better or more distinct manuscript— coiTect and
legible, and exceedingly picturesque in the body. Like his com-
position, it is perfect in finish.
We have a good share of the ofi'hand manliness of the Demo-
cratic candidate for the presidency represented in his signature
above. The general manuscript is strong, bold and business like ;
such a hand as expresses a firm and decided purpose and charac-
ter. At present, Frank I^ierce stands very prominently before
the public eye of the world.
ti c/ O'^'CCou^'Zc^
Parke Got>win is well known to the literary world as a^^Titer
of much force and excellence. His style of writing and composi-
tion arc both bold and manly, and the manuscript is distinct and
correct in detail. We like his chirography, and conceive it to
bear a strong analogy to his general characteristics.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
3o:
NAPOLEON THE LlTlLB.
" Louis Bonaparte," says Victor Hugo, " is a
man of middie Iieight, cold, pale, slow in his
movements, having the air of a person not quite
awake. He has published, as we mentioned be-
fore, a tolerable treatise on artillery, and is
thought to be acquainted with the manceavering
of cannon. He is a good horseman. Bespeaks
drawlingly, with a slight German accent. His
histrionic abilities were displayed at the Tilgling-
ton tournament. He has a thick mustache, cov-
ering his smile, like that of the Duke d'Artois,
and a dull eye, like that of Charles IX. Judg-
ing of him, apart from what he calls his ' neces-
sary acts,' or ' liis grand acts,' he is a vulgar,
common-place personage, puerile, tlieatrical and
vain. The persons who are invited to St. Cloud
in the summer, receive with the invitation an or-
der to bring a morning toilette and an evening
toilette. He loves finery, trinkctry, feathers, em-
broidery, spangles, grand words and grand titles
— the sounding, the glittering, all the glassware
of power. In his quality of cousin to the battle
of Austerlitz, he dresses himself up as a general."
DOMESTIC ELOQUENCE.
Mr. Pitt was a remarkably shy man. He was
on terms of the greatest intimacy wiih Lord Cam-
den, and being at his house on a morning visit :
"Pitt," said his lordship, "my children have
heard so much about you that they are extreme-
ly anxious to have a glimpse r.t the great man.
They are just now at dinner in the next room ;
you will oblige me by going in with me for a
moment."
" 0, pray don't ask me ; what on earth could
I say to them?"
" Give them, at least, the pleasure of seeing
you."
And half led, half pushed into the room, the
prime minister approached the little group, look-
ed from their father to them, from them to their
father, remained for several minutes twirling his
hat, without finding a single sentence at his dis-
posal, and departed. So much for the domestic
eloquence of an orator.
MODEL TELEGRAPH LINE.
A line of electric telegraph has just been
established in France which may be regarded as a
model telegraph. It extends from Paris to Bor-
deaux. The wires, ten in number, go the whole
distance under ground. They are five Inches
apart, and form a hollow square. To guard
against humidity, they are supported upon wood-
en blocks, with the necessary isolation, and en-
cased in a coating of gutta percha and lead. An
ingenious contrivance enables the guardians to
detect at once the exact spot where any flaw or
break has occurred, without digging up any por-
tion of the trench.
Served him right. — Stephen Chenault was
convicted and fined SIOOO at the last term of
Limestone Circuit Court, Ala., for whipping his
wife. He is at present in prison, and unless he
"forks over," which there is no possibility of his
doing, is likely to remain there for some time to
come.
CONSTITDTION OF INDIANA. — By thc nCW
Constitution of the State of Indiana, all foreign-
ers who have been in the United States for twelve
months, and have resided in that State for six
months, are entitled to vote for all ofiUces, from
President downwards.
ITALI.A.N Banditti. — The days of Fra Dia-
volo appears to be returning in Italy. A dili-
gence full of travellers, and conveying govern-
ment funds, was recently stopped on the road
between Rome and Civitta Vecchia, by an armed
and masked band, and robbed.
Sent back. — Twenty-three paupers, sent to
Boston at the public expense, liave just been re-
turned on thc same principle, the authorities of
Ireland being obliged to pay their passage both
ways. This is as it should be.
< ^»^ t
The Bible in South America. — The Bue-
nos Ayrean Government has recently decreed
that in the course of instruction pursued in the
public schools in that country, the \Vord of God
shall be included.
Exports of Specie. — The exports of specie
from New York for the first nine months of the
present year, will amount to about 821,000,000
— behig ¥10,000,000 less than for the same
period last year.
toagsiiic ©atljmngs.
Winter has already commenced in good ear-
nest in Canada.
A boy aged 17 years, is on trial, inProvidtnce,
for murder.
The Japan Expedition, it is said, will rendez-
vous at Annapolis.
The Jewish Synagogue in Sacramento, Cali-
fornia, was dedicated Sept. 4th.
By the fire at Ansonia, Ct., 200 hands were
thrown out of employment.
The Englisli language is spoken by seventy-
five millions of people.
Carpet patterns are being worn in pantaloons,
by the bucks of New York.
^Vhy is the Dead Sea so called? Because no
living creature can be found in it.
Madame Sontag is the mother of eight chil-
dren, and one of them a married lady.
The Potomac Savings Bank, at Washington,
has suspended payments for the present.
A woman, named Winn, died at St. Louis on
the .3d ult., from an -application of chloroform.
The expenses of the New York citj' almshouse
for the month of August last, amounted to nearly
S49,000.
The late Bishop Pledding bequeathed his valu-
able library to the Biblical Institute at Concord,
New Hampshire.
A boy in New York, who picked up S400 in
the street, and returned it to the owner, was re-
warded by being told to clear out.
Should the Chinese emigration to California
continue, it may not be long before we shall see
a Chinaman in Congress.
Col. C. M. Payne, U- S. A., has been appoint-
ed to the command of the fortification in the har-
bor of New York.
The Secretary of the Treasury has received an
anonymous letter containing SIOO, with reqnest
to place it in the U. S. Treasury.
The money recently stolen from the Mount
Vernon Bank, in Foster, R. I., amounting to
$10,240, ha?, all been recovered.
A lightning rod peddler has been doing the
people at Germantown, Pennsylvania, with light-
ning rods furnished with pewter points.
Peter Moore's house, in Wardsboro, Vt., was
burnt on Wednesday week, and six of his chil-
dren perished in the flames!
The Duke of Wellington was the 19th in direct
descent from King Edward I, 23d fiom Alfred,
and 25th from William the Conqueror.
It is said that SSO0,000, besides clothing and
provi-iions, will be distributed this fall and winter
among the Sioux Indians of Minnesota.
The Boston Transcript states that Mr. Ban-
croft has the fifth volume of the history of the
United States in the hands of stereotypers.
Men are fined in Boston for using profane
language in public. Right! They shouM be
fined for sueli a habit at any time, and in any
place.
Arkansas, in 1849, exported 46,733 hags cot-
ton, 44,890 in ISoO, 62,973 in 1851, and 8.';,4.50
in 1S52 — thus nearly doubling herself in four
years.
Accidents from burning fluid arc now of so
frequent occurrence, that wc cease to chronicle
them. They are noticed in pretty much every
paper we open.
Among the convicts in Massachusetts State
Prison are several who are under sentence for
life. The last received is Thomas Davis, the
murderer of his sister.
The frigate Columbia is nearly ready for sea,
at Portsmouth, Va. Workmen are busy on her,
and as thick as bees. It is not yet known where
she will be ordered.
At \Yorcester, Mass., in the rooms of the An-
tiquarian Society, there U a copy of the Bible,
printed in Venice in 1447, being forty-five years
before the discovery of America.
Cortez, in a letter to Charles Y; in illustration
of the advanced state of society among the Indi-
ans of Mexico, says that "they begged in the
streets like civilized people."
Thc late e-insus gives thc crop of Alabama at
.564,429 bales, of 400 pounds. Georgia stands
next, with a crop of 496,09! bales, and Missis-
sippi next, with a crop of 484,293 bales.
A Mr. Mowry, of Auburn, has issued a card,
in wliich he states he has invented an arrange-
ment, by which the elasticity of compressed air
can be used to propel carriages on railroads.
Mr. Vanderbilr, it is said, has offered to sell
out his whole interest in the steamers on the Ni-
car.Tgua route for SI. 100, 000, and that a party of
capitalists have undertaken to make the purchase.
A congress of German short-hand writers has
just been held at Munich. 'M. Baumagartuer,
of Vienna, explained his system of taking down
in writing, instantaneously, the notes of any
musical piece played.
At the last monthly meeting of the American
Bible Society, it was slated tJiat the number of
Bibles and Testaments issued the past month
was 83,304 — a greater number than was ever be-
fore issued in the same time.
The hotel keepers of Niagara, who generally
close in September, resolved to prolong the sea-
son to the end of October, in consequence of the
increased trade arising from the facilities afforded
by the Eoehester, Lockpqrt, and Niagara rail-
roads.
-foreign Jllisccllans.
Sir Thomas Mitchell, of Australia, has brought
out a new mode of propulsion for steamers. It
is called thc Bomcrang propeller.
A report liy Lord Shaftsbury is published, re-
garding Bethlehem Hospital for the insane, and
discloses horrible treatment of the inmates.
The Queen and court are still in the High-
lands of Scotland, where, also, Lord Hardinge,
the new commander-in-chief, is in attendance.
Mr. D. D. Howard, late of the Irving House,
New York, is about to establish a hotel on a
large and magnificent scale in London.
The Loudon papers arc rabid against Capt.
Jewett's expedition to thc Lobos Islands, seeing
in it a deep-laid scheme for the annexation of
Peru.
Mr. Mackintosh, the India rubber patentee,
advertises a paint of Nucons Catchuck for ship's
bottoms, which by lessening resistance increases
the speed two knots an hour.
It is a singular fact that the Duke of Welling-
ton never visited Scotland, He is said to have
entertained a superstition that a visit to that
country would be fatal to him.
It ii confidently stated in circles likely to be
well informed on the subject, that the funeral of
the late Duke of Wellington will take place on
Saturday, the 13th of November.
Field-Marshal Radetzky is about to retire from
active service to his villa at Kayback. It is said
that the death of the Duke of Wellington has
impressed him unpleasantly with the fact that,
occasionally, even Field Marshals die.
Mount JEtua. is still in flames, and the vine-
yards of Milo, in the neighborhood of Catania,
have all been devoured by the burning lava.
The crater of thc volcano seems a mammoth
light-house, illuminated with a toiver of gas.
A Swedish yacht called the " Svriege," has
arrived at Portsmouth, England, and it is said
is to enter the lists against the yacht America.
She is said to be built nearly on the lines of the
America, and rigged after the same fashion.
A petition has been presented for a royal
charter to establish a direct communication by
means of steamers from the east and west coast
of England to Canada and the United States.
London will prot)ably be the eastern port and
Liverpool the western.
According to the Breslau Gazette, General
Haynau has been summoned to Vienna, by order
of the emperor, his majesty considering that the
demonstrations which his presence has excited
in certain places are calculated to compromise
the honor of the Austrian uniform.
Joker's Buliget.
Sanlra of ©olir.
.... He declares himself guilty, who justifies
himself before accusation.
.... Praying will make us leave off sinning,
or sinning will make us leave ofi^" praying.
.... We are esteemed for excellence in trifles
at the expense of more valuable accomplishments.
.... Wholesome sentiment is rain — wliich
makes the fields of daily life fresh and odorous.
.... Many an event in life, when viewed in
thc future, looks impossible.
■ ■ ■ ■ Some men seem most severe when they
are in reality most affected, as snow turns to ice
when on the point of melting.
.... Abundance is a trouble, want, a misery,
honor, a burden, and advancement, dangerous,
but competency, happiness.
.... Flatterers only lift a man up, as it is said
the eagle does the tortoise — to get something by
the fall.
.... Man wastes his mornings in anticipating
his afternoons, and he wastes his afternoons in
regretting his mornings.
.... Tiiere may be more water in a flowing
stream only four feet deep, and containing more
force and more health, than in a sullen pool
thirty yards to the bottom.
.... Love is a compound feeling, and is fed
with the grossest food ; but friendship is a pas-
sion whicli must exist on a moral or intellectual
diet. Though love is more fiery and ardent, it
is also more fickle and uncertain.
.... Most precepts of parents and teachers
arc lost sight of at the very time when it is im-
portant to observe them — as tlie label " shut the
door " is invisible when the door is opened wid-
est, and thrown back against the wall.
.... Politeness is the spontaneous movement
of a iiood heart and an observing mind. Benev-
olence will teach us temperance towards tlie
feelings of others, and habits of observation will
enable us to judge promptly and easily what
those feelings are.
.... Thc mixture of one eiTor with much
truth adulterates the whole — as the chalice of
pure liquid is rendered dangerous by the infusion
of a drop of poison. We should, therefore, be-
ware of all error, however slight and inconsid-
erable it may appear. One error may soon lead
to a hundred, ay, to a thousand.
.... Choose ever the jilainest road ; it always
answers best. For the same reason choose ever
to do and try what is the most just, and the
most direct. This conduct will save a thousand
blushes, and a thousand struggles, and will de-
liver you from secret torments which are the
never failing attendants of dissimulation.
What is the worst kind of fare for a man to
live on ? Warfare.
Why is a newspaper like an army 1 Because
it has leaders, columns ahd reviews.
" Julus, am you conwalescent dis momin* ?"
"No, I was conwalescent yesterday, but I took
medicine last night, and worked it off."
A New York alderman was applied to the
other day to suppress tlie cattle nuisance, but he
replied that he did not care a toss up about it.
Why is a thoight like the sea? B?cause it's
a notion. Why is a whirlpool like a donkey 1
Because it's an eddy.
" Aint it wicked to rob a hen roost, Jim r'
"That's a great moral question, Sam ; we have
not time to argue it — hand down another pullet."
"I am glad this cofi'ee don't owe me any-
thing," said an accountant at his breakfast.
" Wiiyso'?" inquired his wife. '''Cause I don't
believe it would ever settle," he replied.
" Nonchalant" means that peculiarly indiffer-
ent look which is put on Iiy men "who never pny
when dunned for money." It should be written
non shdl oiiV.
It is surprising to an American visiting Eng-
land, that in certain portions of the island they
speak the American language almost equal to a
native.
The Toledo Blade tells the story of a chap on
their road, who, apprehending a collision of the
cars, put his life-preserver on, blew it up, and,
leaning his back against the side of the car, re-
signed himself to his fate !
A recent traveller stopped at a cabaret in
France, where thc host had two sorts of wine,
wliich he called " first table " and " common ta-
ble." " I tried them both," says our traveller,
and found them lamentable."
"Poppy, I know why some pistols are called
horse pistols."
" Why, my son ?"
" Because they kick so."
" Mary, put that boy to bed ; he's getting so
sharp he'll cut somebody yet, see if he don't.
VOLTTMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON S PICTORIAL.
We haTe volumes 1st and 21 of the Pictorial Drawipo
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edge b
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and moi t
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Fo ir and Five Htmdred Pages,
AND COTAIN'ISQ KEAKLI
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; cf
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pagts
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times \ altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustKi.tion.s.
For sale it the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agent-s, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UA'IOX,
AN ELKGANT, MORAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devotfd to polite Uterature, wit and humor, prope and
poetii; gems, itud originiLl prize tales, "^vritten expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEK FOU THE MUXIOH,
AND A WELCOME VISITOU TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading icf-eklif paper in. the. Uitiwl States^ and its literary
contents are aUowed.by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
po condensed as to en.ible us to give tho greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements arc admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the menus nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SUBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 subscribers, " 6 00
4 '■ '■ 6 00
5 " " 11 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the Flag of odr Union, and one copy of the
PiCToauL Dbawing-K.0031 Companion, one 3'ear, for S5 00.
D^^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as ngents,
and fonn clubs, on the above terms.
(IT^ AU orders should he addre.-^seif, post paid, lo the
Publisher of the Flag op our Union.
%* T/ie Flag can It obtained at any of the veiaspoper
depots in the United States, and of newspaper carriers, at
Four cents per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
1'LBJ.ISaER AND I'BOpRIETOn, BoSTCN, MaSS-
304
OLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWIMG ROOM (lOMPANION.
RIDING SCHOOIi.
Herewith wc pri'sont
a correct rcprescntiition
of tlic new, large, ccii-
tnil and commodious
KuWnir School of I). U.
Disbrow &■ Co., one of
the most ably conducted
and popular equestrian
academics in the United
States, and excelled \>y
none, either in reputa-
tion, elegant accommo-
dations, or the skill and
system by which the art
of horsemanship is
taught. On the 1st of
March, 1851, Mr. Dis-
brow purchased the Ma-
son St. RidiHg School,
the oldest in the city,
but finding it insufficient
for bis purposes, ho
opened the new riding
academy in Gilibon's
Court, 415 Washington
street, near Boylston
street, under the title of
Disbrow &, Co.'s Riding
School. The Riiifj, the
main feature of the
school, is 180 feet in
circumference, and
throughout its whole:
area, which forms a per
feet circle, is unobstruct
ed by post or pillar o
any sort. Overlooking
this grand sphere of ac-
ademic horsemanship
arc a large number of
windows, opening from
the drawing and dress-
ing rooms of the ladies
and gentlemen below,
INTERIOR VIEW OF DISBROW &. CO 'S RIDING SCHOOL, 415 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON,
and two commodious and tastefully appointed
galleries for spectators, above. From the ceil-
ing, some 22 feet above the Ring, depends a
chandelier large enough to furnish n brilliant
illumination in the evenmg, for the whole circle.
The whole establishment, inclusive of the gal-
leries, dressing rooms and other apartments, is
lighted by gas, and thoroughly warmed and ven-
tilated. Doors open directly upon the ring,
both from the dressing rooms of the ladies and
of the gentlemen. Doors likewise open from
the stable in the rear, a model establishment,
neatly and systematically arranged, and contain-
ing tiiirty-five stalls. Here are to be seen a rare
stud of horses, all kept in the best possible trim,
and cared for by faithful, experienced and well-
bred hostlers. There is probably no equestrian
school in this country .eo distinguished for the
excellence and propriety of its regulations, as
this. A card of address is requested of all, pre-
vious to tuition, and by thus obtaining the names
and residences of applicants, the respectability
of the pupils is rendered beyond a doubt. Among
the other salutary regulations, tending to the
harmony and regularity of the school, are ttie
following; all lessons or rides are paid for be-
fore commencement ; three months are allowed
for a course of lessons ; each lesson or ride is
limited to one hour; each lesson on the road to
one hour and a half ; gentlemen are not admit-
ted during the hours appropriated to the ladies ;
ladies' and gentlemen's saddle horses are let for
the week ; the owners of all saddle horses board-
ed at the establishment, have the privilege of
riding them in the school, without extra charge ;
private parties can be accommodated on Monday,
Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday evenings,
on application to the teacher, on which occasion
no spectators will be permitted save the friends
of the party; and on Tuesday and Friday even-
ings, from 7 till 9 P. M., equestrian tuition and
exercise rides are given to gentlemen only. Be-
sides this, the stable is well supplied with safe
and spirited horses, both for the road and riding
school. The Riding School of Disbrow & Co.
is open daily, for ladies from 9 A. M. till 1 P.M.,
and 3 to 5 P. M. Wednesdays and Saturdays,
from 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. For gentlemen, daily,
from 6 to 9 A. M., 2 to 3, and 5 to 7 P. M. ;
and on Wednesdays and Saturdays, from 6 to 9
A. M., and 5 to 7 P. M. It is to be lamented
that the advantages of so useful a sanitary agent
as equestrian exercises, should not be more gen-
erally understood than they are. The press
should lend its influen-
tial voice to impress
upon the publif mind
till- lienelit.s to be derived
from the practice of
horsemanship; for by it
disease and death arc
despoiled of their bane-
ful power and many of
their victims ; the blood
is made pure, nature !«
aided in the concpiest of
a tliousand maladies in-
cident to an inactive
system, and to the sed-
entary life led by resi-
dents of a city ; health,
and strength are given
to the frame, and in
their train follow beauty
and grace, symmetrical
and hardy development
of limb and form — and
happiness — for freedom
from disease involves
freedom from morbid
gloom — the blood, pu-
rified and aroused, aug-
ments the animal spirits
— and the salutary ef-
fects of the art are as
palpably evinced in the
external appearance of
the person, as they are
felt and acknowledged
by him. Thousands
might be saved from liv-
ing deaths and untimely
graves, from mountains
of pills and seas of po-
tions, from doctors' bills
and chambers of sick-
ness, from pains of body
and gloom of mind, were
they to pay proper at-
tention to the art of horsemanship. Thousands
and tens of thousands, male and female, are
compelled to lead such sedentary lives in the city,
that existence to them is robbed of half its joy.
The cheering and inspiring enthusiasm belong-
ing to perfect health, and which is such a chief
and invaluable charm of life in childhood, can
only be imparted to such, by a constant course
of physical exercise — and of all exercises we re-
gard that of horsemanship as obviously the most
speedily and thoroughly beneficial. Ladies and
gentlemen ! You who are ambitious of all the
graces and accomplishments of a liberal educa-
tion, we commend you to the knowledge and
practice of so noble and healthful an art — the
preserver of health, the perpetuator of beauty,
and the constant furnisher of a recreation than
which none is more exhaustless and sweet.
VIEW OF THE COURT HOUSE, AT PITTSBURG, PENN.
[For deacription, see paga 301 ]
F. GLEASON,
( CORNER EROMFIELD
1 AND TIUMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1852.
#2 per volume.
10 ct9. single.
Vol. III. No. 20.— Whole No. 72.
PUTNAM FREE SCHOOL.
We give below, a fine view of this institution,
located in Newburyport, founded by the munifi-
cence of Oliver Putnam, Esq., a native of New-
bury, and which has now been in operation
about four years. It is endowed with a perma-
nent fund of ©50,000; the building — one of the
best specimens of school architecture in the
State — with the grounds, cost about S25,000 ;
the value of the apparatus for illustrating the
different branches of study pursued is about
SISOO. Pupils are received from any part of
the country — none admitted under twelve years
of age. The course of instruction embraces the
commoi and higher branches of English study
and the French language ; regular courses of lec-
tures are given on natural philosophy, chemistry,
astronomy, English literature, etc. A weekly pa-
per, entitled the *' Experiment," is sustained by
the members of the school, which numbers about
one hundred pupils of both sexes, say fifty each.
Besides this fine school, there arc also one male
high and one female high school, five male
grammar and five female grammar schools, and
eight male and eight female primary schools.
The readers of tlie Pictorial know with what
pleasure we chronicle any matter relative to the
advancement of the facilities for the dissemina-
tion of education. It is not in academies and
school-houses, however, that the young are alone
to be taught. Education, says Dr. Sears, in
its widest sense commences as soon as one is
bom. From that time till the school-going age,
which with most children does not properly be-
gin till after they are six years old, the freedom
and activity natural to childhood may better be
accorded to it than denied. The physical con-
stitution, whose vigor is so intimately connected
with that of the mind, and which comes first in
the order of nature, requires a great amount of
unrestricted exercise in the open air. The con-
finement of the school room not only preys upon
the animal life and spirits of the child, but in-
terrupts that inquisitive notice of external objects
to which nature prompts it. The free exercise of
the perceptive faculties at this period does more
to produce strength and individuality of charac-
ter than all the set lessons which could be given
in the schools. The truth of the remark now
made is confirmed by the early history of dis-
tinguished men as given by their biographers.
Disinclined to school exercises, but admirers of
nature, they have been known to stroll through
the fields and woods, often lying upon the grass
and gazing upon some beautiful landscape, while
others were sitting on the bench waiting by the
hour to say their alphabet. Almost every line
in our best writers shows that their childhood
was spent in studying nature's golden alphabet,
written in the sky, in the flowery field, in the
grove, and in the plumage of its gay songsters.
The wants of the mind, as felt by a young child,
are a much safer guide to knowledge than any
artificial system of mental exercise devised by
the teacher. Providence has cared for that bet-
ter than we can do. Such a knowledge of the
objects of nature as the curiosity of a child
prompts him to seek, and the mental activity
produced by the companionship of other chil-
dren, together with the influences of home, fur-
nish the best kind of education for the young.
The joyfulness of a life thus spent when all the
instincts of nature have free play, and evil only
is restrained, contributes much to that sprighlH-
ness, elasticity and vigor which ought to charac-
terize the young.
VIEW OF THE PUTNAM FREE SCHOOL, AT NEWBURYPORT, MASS,
;]0G
GLEASON'S nCTO RIAL
AWINO ROOM COMPANION.
Eiitsrcd according lo Act uf Congress, in the yeiir 1852, by F. Glkason, in tiie Clerk's Ollice of tlic
District Court of Massuchusuits.
[written exi'KESSLt fok gleason'b pictokial.J
TOE
THE SIGN OF THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Talc of t!ac Ca^tap and Gmivt of Itoiiapartc.
BY B. PERLEY POORK
CHAPTEB VI.— [continued.]
Just then a gun-boat passed up tlie river, and
was recognized as the mail-boat from Alexan-
dria, so all returned to the kiosk, eager to receive
iii'.w.s from home. The dispatches were not long
in arriving, and no sooner were the letters dis-
Iributcd, than each officer retired to his own
quarters.
Late that night, as Osmanli lay tossing upon
his couch, recalling the sad disappohitment
which had chilled his affections, and which tilled
his heart with anguish, his door was suddenly
opened. Springing to his feet, he grasped his
sabre, bnt his defensive attitude was soon changed
to a deep reverence, for Bonaparte stood before
him.
"Osmanli," said the general, "brother Os-
manli, I know your disappointment, for I was
an nnintentional listener to what passed a few
nights since in the garden."
The young man's face turned crimson.
"Nay," continued Bonaparte, "do not fjel
ashamed. Woman's heart is a more iueom-
]>rcliensible riddle than the inscriptions on the
monuments arouud us, and perseverance always
brings success. But that jealous rascal, Margry,
is evidently dogging your footsteps, and I think
it would be best for you to go away for awhile.
At any rate, I wish to send a trusty messenger
to prance, and have selected you."
"But — but — general," asked Osmanli, "who
will protect Judith V
"Isherfather not my brother as well as thine ?"
replied Bonaparte. " Have no ftars upon this
point, A boat will go down the river to mor-
row, and Berthier will furnish you with the ne-
cessary funds. I wish you to go to Paris as
speedily as possible, and then to remain near
Madame Bonaparte until I order you otherwise.
One of my correspondents dares to hint that she
is unfaithful, and I wish you, without acting the
part of a spy, to inform me if you discover any-
thing wrong in her conduct. Now, good-night.
I have my letters to write."
This sudden departure, after all, was not re-
pugnant to the young man's feelings. His heart
was sad, and any change was acceptable. Be-
sides, he had become enamored with the civil-
ized manners of the French, and their superior
social condition.
CHAPTER VII.
the old .iewisii banker.
The "Albatross," hauled close upon a light
and head wind, was creeping past the island of
Malta, when out came a French fiigate, under a
cloud of canvass, and before a stiff breeze. Col-
onel Lowe was almost frantic with disappoint-
ment, and Jack Norman, pale with rage, ordered
out the sweeps. The men, who dreaded a French
prison, pulled with a hearty good will, but the
frigate continued to gain on them, and soon the
shot from her bow guns ricochetted along the
water, in dangerous proximity to the cutter.
At last came the breeze! The sweeps were
pulled in, royals and studding-sails were set, the
engine was manned to wet the canvass, and the
" Albatross," dancing over the water, fired her
stern chasers in derision.
Fortunate as was the escape. Colonel Lowe
had no desire to risk a second trial with any of
the French cruisers, so the "Albatross" bore
away to the northeast, scudding over those seas
whose shores are immortalized by Homer, Eight
[ C 0 N T I N U K D . ]
days after she had left Ajaccio, her anchor was
dropped in the harbor of Smyrna — the lovely
ciown of ancient Ionia— the hustling Paris of
the Levant. In days of yore it was famous as
the bright light among the seven Christian cities
which composed the lignrative candelabra of
Saint John, and in later days it has become
equally renowned for gay society, lovely women,
and fresh figs.
Going on shore, attended by Giacomo, Colonel
Lowe threaded his way through a labyrinth of
narrovv, dog-infested streets, until he began to
ascend the bill at whose base the city nestled.
Here is the Mahometan burial-ground, studded
with white marble tombstones, and shrouded by a
deep grove of cypress trees, whose dark, motion-
less branches are fit emblems of mortality. Near
by, in a mean, dilapidated looking house, resided
the Jewish banker upon whom the English emis-
sary had letters of credit — Mordecai Fezenzae.
It was only after loud and repeated knocking
that the door was opened, and then a strong
chain effectually prevented intrusion, although it
enabled Elnathan to survey his visitors, and to
ask what they wanted. By way of introduction,
Colonel Lowe pulled out his letter of credit, and
no sooner did the man see the potent name of
Eothscbihl which it bore, than lie unloosed the
chain, and opened the door.
The aspect of the room into which they en-
tered, was even less inviting than was the exte-
rior of the house, but passing through it, the Jew
ushered them into a splendidly furnished apart-
ment. A rich carpet, soft as the spring grass,
covered the floor, the walls were covered with
hangings of Damascus silk, and around three
sides of the room were wide, luxurious ottomans,
covered wiih velvet cushions. A harp, with silver
keys, stood in the corner, and upon a table covered
with pure white linen, stood a huge silver can-
delabra, with seven branches. A pair of rare
singing birds were suspended from the ceiling in
a gilded cage, and in the deep latticed window
were rare exotic plants, whose fragrance per-
fumed the room.
The occupant of this elegant room presented
a marked contrast to its luxuriance as he ushered
in his guests, bowed down by the weight of ty-
ranny and the everlasting .sin of his race. Dressed
in a dirty cloth robe, his sallow countenance,
sunken eye, and neglected beard, all proclaimed
the oppressed existence which he endured, but
his quivering lip showed that there was in addi-
tion some present grief. Inviting his visitors to
be .tieated upon the ottoman, he carefully perixsed
the letter, examined the watcr-maik of the paper,
and then said, in choice French :
" Your excellency is welcome to Smyrna,
and any funds you may need will be forthcom-
ing, although, bowed down by sorrow, I fear that
I cannot minister to your comfort. Grief and
bitterness are all I have to offer in my humble
abode."
" Has anything occurred, that you are so de-
pressed"?" inquired Colonel Lowe.
"Happened!" said Mordecai. "My daugh-
ter, my darling Judith, the light of these old
eyes, is in the hands of the Philistines. In an
evil hour I permitted the rabbi of our syiiagogue
to take her to Genoa, that her voice might be
attuned for the Psalms of David in our taberna-
cle. Months passed, but no tidings came — the
felucca never reached Genoa. At last I received
positive intelligence that she was captured by an
Alexandriiin corsair — sold in the slave market —
carried to Cairo — and was to enter the harem of
Mourad Bey. Alas I Alas! The Edomitcs
have triumphed, and my old ago is as desolate
as tlic hills about Jcruf^alcm."
" But have not the French reached Cairo?"
" I know not. Some oi' the Egyptian Mame-
lukes who were hero hastened to Egypt when
thoy learned that their country was invaded—
but we have no tidings from the land of bondage.
Ay, ay— a land of bandage it is, and I fear that
there i.s no deliverance for my poor daughter."
" The French will respect licr thou^^h, if they
have not been repulsed," remarked Colonel
Lowe, who felt somewhat interested, so poignaiU
was the old mun's grief.
" There is my only hope," replied Mordecai.
"Although the Moslems will kill the inmates of
iheir harems, rather than let them fall into the
hands of Chri.stians. Did I think that she was
protected by the French, if money could buy a
vessel, I would soon be on my way to Egypt.
But we are a crushed, oppressed people, and I
fear that my daughter, for whom I have toiled,
and garnered, and endured contumely, will never
yit again in joyousness under her father's fig-tree,
with none to make her ashamed, or afraid."
Here was another golden opportunity, and
Colonel Lowe started with joy. Under the pre-
text of seeking the fair daughter, Giacomo would
be introduced into Egypt, and could approach
the supposed object of his vendetta.
"Monsieur Fezenzae," said he, "I am cruis-
ing about in the Levant, in a fast sailing cutter,
and can carry you to Egypt if you desire it.
That is, if the French consul here will gi-ant us
letters-of truce, to save us from captuie."
"Thanks, a thousand thanks," exclaimed the
the Jew. " May the God of Israel bless you.
The French consul is my debtor, and I can easily
obtain the desired papers."
" And how soon can you leave?"
" How soon 1 O, I can leave ere the sun sets,
for even as the hart pants after the water brooks,
so do I long to see my beloved Judith."
"I will return on board again, then," said
Colonel Lowe, " and we can sail the moment
you come on board. Good-by, then, for a few
hours."
And as the gratified Englishman strode away,
the Je\v heaped blesiings upon his head. Poor
Giacomo. As the hour approached when he was
to be called upon to execute the deadly scheme,
his heart failed him, lest he might not be able to
avert his old friend, and be seized as an assassin.
The cutter was immediately prepared for sea,
greatly to the disappointment of the sailors, who
had counted upon a revel on shore. But that
same afternoon Mordecai came on board with
the French consul. The necessary papers were
made out, the French flag was hoisted, and then
the consul, having received a large parting loan
from the enraptured Jew, returned on shore.
" All hands up anchor, ahoy!" now echoed
through the cutler. The capstan-bars were rig-
ged, and the men heaved away, until the anchor
was "short." Sail was then made, the anchor
was tripped and stowed, and the cutter was fairly
aweigh before sunset. Glorious was that setting
sun, as it gilded the mountains which form the
western boundary of the lovely hay through
which the cutter glided :
" Not as in noi'thern climes obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of lining liglit.
O'er thii hushftd deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave thattremblcs as it glows."
The next day, as the cutter left the island of
Patmos on her Ice, the breeze died entirely away.
The sky was intensely blue, with an occasional
fleecy cloud drifting lazily through the azure ex-
panse, nor did a ripple disturb the broad expanse
of water. The cutter lay becalmed, her sails
flapping against the masts, and had it not been
for the idle rocking occasioned by the ground
swell, she would have appeared motionless.
This was torture to the afflicted Jew, who had
battled against his sea-sickness while they made
rapid progress, but now was the image of misery.
Neither was the grim Briton in the best of hu-
mor, especially as Giacomo showed an unwil-
lingness to lay his plans for .^.ction in Egypt.
" Will ibis weather always last?" he inquired
of Jack Norman, with a fearful oath.
"I fear not," was the I'eply, "for a storm is
brewing, if I am not mistaken." And soon the
experienced mariner ordered his light sails to be
taken in, and housed his flying jib boom. The
hatches were closely battened down, and every
preparation made for wliat Jack called "a Le-
vanter."
Night came on, and as the blood-red sun
sank down into the molten waters, a breeze
swelled out the courses of what sails remained
set. MasHCs of dark clouds drifted hm-riedly
along, and the atmosphere felt gloomy and heavy,
'I'he wind increased. Sail after sail was taken
in, but the cutter dashed on, fuster and faster.
Soon, rapid and vivid flashes of forked lightning
shone across the angry billows, and peals of
crashing thunder added to tlie terrilie grandeur
of the scene. The gale increased to a hurricane,
sails were close reefed, the storm-staysail sot,
and the "Albatross" struggled before the fury
of the tem]je8t, now poising on the top of a
mighty wave — now, witli a shud<ler, sinking into
the deep hollow of the sea.
Poor Giacomo! He felt that it was a judg-
ment, and at last became so alarmed, that be
communicated his fears to the sailors, with whom
be had become intimate. They, naturally super-
stitious, aj^rced that the Englishman was a sec-
ond Jonah, and it was determined lo get rid of
him as soon as pos.sible. At last, land was seen,
looming up in the foggy storm, and surrounded
by breakers. But ere the cutter could be kept
away, the solitary staysail which kept her before
the wind was blown from the bolt-ropes, and as
she lay rolling in the heavy chopping sea, stout
hearts lost courage.
A cry was heard ! In the confusion, Colonel
Lowe and the Jew went overboard, whether ac-
cidentally or not, no one knew. But it was im-
possible to lower a boat, and so hen-coops,
benches, and other light materials were thrown
overboard. The colonel was an excellent swim-
mer, and managed to reach a large hen-coop,
upon which he floated securely, and dragged
Fezenzae, more dead than alive. The current
carried them rapidly towards the shore, but the
cutter on which a new staysail had been set, an-
swered her helm, and she managed to weather
the promontory, with its menacing breakers.
Once free of the land, Norman had the masts
cut away, so that he was enabled to ride out the
gale, and then rigging a jury-mast, on the fourth
day of ths passage, he reached the island of
Rhodes.
The English squadron, just before the gale,
had put in at the harbor of Rhodes for fresh wa-
ter. So when Jack Norman made the light-
house, and run boldly in between the points on
which the feet of the famed colossus once rested,
he found himself among his countrymen.
Colonel Lowe and Mordecai were also saved.
After clinging lo the hen-coop for hours, as it
was toised over the billows, they were drifted
on shore. Some Turkish fishermen found them
on the beach, almost exhausted; but Mordecai
had a potent claim for assistance. Their clothes
were dried, their hunger was relieved, and that
night they were taken to the once proud city of
Ephesus. Goats now browse where Pliny tells
us the largest population in Asia Minor once
dwelt; nor aie there many tokens of the once
proud temple of Diana, but it is easy to trace
the walls of that famous lodge-room where the
good Saint John once held the gavel. Business,
and pleasure, and worship have all passed away,
yet Mordecai found those to whom he was united
by a "mystic tii." They relieved him and his
companion, nor was it many days ei-e the ship-
wrecked couple arrived safely back at Smyrna.
CHAPTER VXIL
THE SIAMELUKE IN FRANCE.
Osmanli, embarking at Alexandria, was for-
tunate enough to escape the British cruisers, and
arrived safely at Toulon, where he took the mail-
coach for Paris. In vain were hospitulities ten-
dered to him on his journey ; nor did he anliei-
pate any of that enjoyment which is the grand
magnetic attraction of the French metropoli-'.
The voice of Judith Fezenzae alone rang in his
ears, her vi.-^ngc was ever before his eyes, and
thoughts of her alone occupied his sad soul, ex-
hausting its freshness. And as he entered the
metropolis— that focus of all that is dazzling in
splendor, all that is elegant in manners, all that
is brilliant in genius, all that is mighty in power
— his thoughts were all upon the banks of the
distant Nile. Everything appeared cheeiful and
bustling iis he passed through the lighted streets,
but his heart wa,9 as dry as Gideon's fleece, while
the dew like influence of Parisian life fell gently
all around.
Without stopping to change his attire, Osmanli
repaired directly to the house of General Bona-
parte, a modest residence, which had recently
been purchased of his friend Talma, the trage-
dian. Coaches were standing before the entrance
lo ihe courtyard, and Osmanli was informed at
GLEASON'S nCTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
307
the gate that madame had guests within — one of
those delectable re-unions for wliich Paris is so
renowned. Revohition, with its bloody tide,
had just swept relentlessly across the face of so-
ciety, engulfing monarchy, and polluting the
sacred name of liberty by sanguinary butcheries,
yet the saloons of Paris lost not their brilliancy,
i'emalc influence, graceful in its sway, there re-
strained the political gladiators, and even the
supreme hcartlessness tliat was so apparent had
its pleasing effect, increasing thebrilliancj of the
wit, as a frosty atmosphere enhances the bright-
ness of the stars.
Remaining in the ante-room, Osraanli took
from his linger a ring, and sent it to Madame
Bonaparte by a servant, with a request tliat she
would receive his dispatches. It was Napoleon's
well-known signet, and in a few moments the
messenger returned, to usher Osmanli into a
gorgeously furnished boudoir. Here Josephine
awaited him, and the young soldier was dazzled
by her personal appearance. She was then in
the prime of womanhood, and strangely beauti-
ful. Her luxuriant ebon hair clustered in heavy
curls over her strongly marked forehead, and
shaded a countenance of tropical east, yet daz-
zling purity. Deep hazel eyes (lashed a welcome
through their long, black lashes. Her teeth
nestled like pearls between the rosy lips to which
they imparted so much expression, and a meteor-
like dimple played on one of her soft, round
cheeks. Welcoming Osraanli with inspiring
ea^e, she asked, in a voice tremulous with
anxiety :
" Victorious again V
" Yes, lady," replied Osmanli, completely
fascinated. " The general is master of Egypt,
and his enemies are subdued by his prowess,
even as — as — hii lady conquers all hearts by her
beauty."
"Bravo !" said Josephine, evidently as much
delighted by the compliment as she was by the
news. " Such language is truly oriental, and
rarely heard in these days of liberty and equality.
When I become Empress of France (for such is
my predicted destiny), you shall be my chamber-
lain. And now, captain, join the company.
Don't look at your dusty uniform, but remember
your tidings." And taking Osmanli by the
hand, she opened a door which led them directly
into the gay and brilliant saloon.
It liad already been whispered among the gay
t irong that an officer had arrived from Egypt,
and when Josephine re appeared, leading Os-
manli by the hand, there was a murmur of curi-
ous excitement. The dancers ceased their grace-
ful measure, the loto table was deserted, and the
whole party clustered around the hostess and
her new guest. To Osmanli, who had been
reared in the East, the scene was one of enchant-
ment. Tiie guests were not numerous, but
among them were some of the most beautiful
women and the most intelligent Parisians — all
as deferential to Josephine as a hive of bees are
to their queen. And worthy was the beautiful
Creole of royal honor, as she moved tlirough the
throng. Not with that measured tread which
the mythologists attributed to Juno, but rather
with that wayward, graceful motion with which
poets represent the fairy-queen, as she receives
the homage of her blithesome court.
*' My friends," said Josephine, "let me pre-
sent to you Captain Osmanli, one of General
Bonaparte's oriental recruits, and a member of
his general staff. He comes from the army laden
with tidings of victory, and will impart his intel-
ligenee whilst I retire to read my husband's let-
ter. Listen to him and excuse me."
Exclamations of joy, and plaudits from many
a tiny gloved hand responded to this announce-
ment, and Osmanli was at once the lion of the
evening. His recital of the battle (the first in-
telligence) was listened to with eagerness, ques-
tions were asked about friends or relatives in the
army, regrets were uttered for those who had
fallen, and then the merry dance was renewed
with fresh gayety.
To Osmanli, the scene was as bewitching as it
was novel. When with Judith Fezenzae he had
felt ennobled, as if holding intercourse with some
seraphic visitor; but now he found himself encir-
cled by the fair and the beautiful, the fascinating
and the gay. Accustomed only to veiled faces
and to closely enveloped forms, he now witnessed
the twinkling of tiny feet in the circling dance,
and encountered the formidable artillery of
sparkling glances and beaming smiles, wliile
angelic brows, like bended bows, menaced his
peace. For the first time, he felt inclined to re-
nounce his creed, and to pardon the bright pro-
genitor of these bewitchingcrcaturcs, who tempt-
ed Iier lord to eat of the forl)idden fruit; at any
rate, he excused the ancient father of the human
raec. Had he been iiimself subjected to such
overwhelming tests in sunny Eden, he felt that
he should have yielded like susceptible father
Adam, and have felt little compunction as he
was sent forth to be lighted round the earth by a
pair of eyes whose flashes mocked the stars in
brilliancy. Why, he thought, was Prometheus
so foolish a; to steal fire from above, when earth
is illuminated by such heavenly rays, or why did
Zoroaster worship fire, when there were such
overpowering beams in the light of lovely wo-
man's eye ? All the degrading ideas of his creed
respecting woman melted away like an autumnal
frost before a clear morning sun, and he stood,
entranced as it were, watching the glittering
throng.
The poetry of motion ceased, and a lady
whose exquisite dancing Osmanli had particu-
larly noticed, was handed to a seat near him.
She wore deep mourning, which heightened the
charms of her clear, ruddy complexion; large
expressive eyes cast enticing glances, and full,
pouting lips gave piquance to the tones of her
musical voice.
"Pardon me," she said, "but did you come
alone from Egypt V
"Alone, madame," replied Osmanli, "that is
to say, in the cabin. There were some wounded
soldiers on board, however."
The lady then asked many questions about
Bonaparte, his probable return, etc., completely
fascinating Osmanli ere Madame Bonaparte re-
appeared. When she did come, her face was
flushed, and joy beamed from every lineament
of her countenance. Again everyone gathered
around her.
" Well, my friends," she asked, "have you
heard all the news ? All about the A-ictorious
career of my martial spouse in the land of Pha-
raoh ? Nay, I will warrant a dozen of gloves
that Captain Osmanli has not informed you that
he saved my husband's life ! His blushes show
that I am correct. But — what a giddy creature
I am ! Here this young man has travelled post-
haste from Marseilles, and I am detaining him,
famished and weary, for jour amusement, as
though he was a wild beast. Let me see — it
will never do to have so handsome a cavalier
under the roof of my jealous husband — " and
Josephine looked around her guests, as if seek-
ing a host for Osmanli.
" Will the gallant captain accept the shelter of
my roof 1" asked the lady with whom Osmanli
had entered into conversation.
"Need I say, Josephine, that my 'prophetic
chamber,' as you used to call it, u at the service
of your husband's deliverer." And this second
offer of hospitality came from a matronly look-
ing dame, who wore her own gray hair in flow-
ing curls, and whose features, although furrowed
by trials, were radiant with benevolent goodness.
" Must I decide," said Josephine. " My young
friend here would enjoy the luxuries of your
magnificent hotel, Madame de Valmont, but I
fear that he rather needs seclusion and rest. So,
Captain Osmanli, I entrust you to the guardian-
ship of my good American friend, Madame Wil-
mot. The fair widow (whose acquaintance I
sec you have already made) will doubtless lie
happy to receive you as a visitor, hereafter."
Madame de Valmont blushed, bit the end of
her fan, and then casting a look of burning ten-
derness at Osmanli, which made his pulse tingle,
she poutingly remarked :
" The captain can elect."
" Nay, nay," interposed Josephine. "Let him
enjoy the quiet of Madame Wilmot's retired
apartment, for a few days, at least."
Osmanli now entered into conversation with
his hostess, and was not long in ascertaining that
she was a lady of extensive information, coupled
with strong, practical sense. When the guests
began to depart, Osmanli offered his arm, and
was escorting her lo her carriage, when Madame
de Valmont passed.
" When you are rested and released," she ex-
claimed, in a merry tone of voice, "I shall be
happy to see you at my residence. Come with-
out ceremony. And now, good-night."
The syren-like tones of the fascinating widow's
dulcet voice rang in Osmanli's ears long after he
had arrived at Madame Wilraot's comfortable
home. She attributed his abstracted manner to
the fatigues of his journey, and lost no time in
installing him in a neat bed-chamber. There
was nothing remarkable about the room, but no
sooner was the young man left alone than his
attention was arrested by a full length portrait
over the mantel shelf. It represented a tall, vig-
orous looking man, with prominent cheek-boncii,
and long, black hair. Tne eyes were small, yet
piercing, and the open countenance, which was
of a peculiar copper hue, bespoke an energetic
mind, fitted for a high destiny. The costume
was a species of uniform, to which was added a
necklace of eagle's claws, and in the belt was a
polished steel hatchet, of a peculiar form. That
it was a portrait of some one belonging to a na-
tion of which he was ignorant, Osmanli felt con-
vinced, yet he could not account for the strange,
fascinating influence which it exercised overhim.
The eyes appeared to follow him around the
room, and even after the light was extinguished,
be fancied that he could sec that stern counten-
ance, endeavoring to read his thoughts.
Nor would this have been an easy task. Up
to that very evening, Judith Fezenzae had been
the undisputed sovereign of every idea. Each
pure thought that flowed into his heart, ebbed
forth impressed with some recollection of her.
But now, the soft yet queenly languor of Jose-
phine had brightened the dark shadows left by
the parting interview in the garden at Cairo.
And Madame de Valmont, entering at the breach
thus made in his constancy, had fascinated the
unsophisticated young Moslem by her Circe-like
wiles.
Little thought the ensnared dreamer, as he
tossed about on his restless couch, that the beau-
tiful enchantress who had so speedily woven a
charm around his existence, was, at that moment,
concocting plots of the most sanguinary nature.
Fortunate is it, that an cverwise Providence often
keeps us in happy ignorance of events which
control our destiny. Impious is the hand that
would raise the veil, and seek to enter the mys-
terious portals of omnipotence.
CHiVPTER IX.
STRONGHOLD OF CONSPIRATORS.
Madame de Valmont, on leaving the Bona-
parte house, ordered her coachman to drive to the
cathedral of Notre Dame. As divine worship
luid not been re-established since its overthrow
by the revolutionists, the domestic thought this
a strange command. But his mistress, as he
well knew, would not be questioned as to any
caprice of her untrammelled will, so he drove to
the cathedral. By a curious contradiction, the
vilest purlieus of Paris are shadowed by this gor-
geous gothic fane, and even at the present day,
as it was then, thousands of God's children riot
in vice and degradation within the sound of its
pealing organ. Crowded into high tenements,
these degraded wretches are packed, story above
story, like so many oysters. Infants are reared
in these hot beds of crime, or die in the dark
scenes of their birth, like ]jlants which are
sprouted in a tomb, and draw their brief exist-
ence from corrupting bones. There, in an at-
mosphere so deprived by use of vitality that the
lamps flicker with ghastly pallor, plans are laid
for unlawful and desperate deeds, and there,
when successful, the villains share their ill gotten
gains. There, hunger is often without food —
hearths are often without fire — sickness is often
without a bed — and while some perish by the
knife of the assassin, or others put a sacrilegious
end to their guilty lives, many are dragged by
the strong arm of justice to the prison — some to
the scaffold.
Yet Madame de Valmont, with unconstrained
step and eagle eye, hesitated not to penetrate this
labyrinth of iniquity, and was soon in the midst
of the vilest haunts, where the abandoned of both
sexes hide their wretchedness and their guilt.
She stopped before a house, over the door of
which was a lantern, bearing the inscription :
" cheap lodgings." A rapid glance assured her
that she was not followed, and drawing her
cloak closely around her, she entered. The soli-
tary lamp, almost extinguished by its own en-
crustations, disclosed a small bar-room, but its
only occupant was a gaunt waiter, who was sit-
ting in a chair, fast asleep. He was not awak-
ened by the gentle tread or the rustling silk of
Madame de Valmont, and she was evidently in
no want of his attendance. Evidently familiar
with the locality, she passed through the bar-
room, into an inner, unventilated apartment.
There lay a score of miserable wretches, nestling
in piles of foul straw like so many wild beasts —
the atmos|ihcre was warm and sickening, and
the walls were damp with the dew of death.
All was stamped with vice, save a young child,
that peacefully reposed by the side of a bloated
woman, whose many finger rings and gold chain
denoted the mistress of the establishment. Sweet
flower, blooming into life to be choked and with-
ered by the filth around ! Could it not find de-
liverance from the poets who musically sung of
human feeling — of the piie-'ts who preached the
religion of mercy — of the philanthropists who
collected money for the sorrows of the poor — of
the sentimental whose hearts were touched wiih
tales of woe "? No. A life of sin, and of shame,
and of misery, is marked out for it, and the
proud lady passes it with a scowl wrinkling her
Parian brow. Alas, alas ! It is her own child !
Passing the fruit of her unlicensed indulgence
without even a kind look, or a repentant sigh,
the hardhearted mother entered a third room,
fitted up as a kitchen. Here she knocked four
times against the wall — the signal was soon re-
sponded to, and then the entire back of the large
fireplace revolved, disclosed a vaulted passage.
A man of herculean proportions, armed to tlic
teeth, stepped out into the room, and said ;
" Long live the Bourbons \"
"Death to liberty!" was Madame de Val-
mont's reply, and she then inquired, "is the
count within V
The sentinel answered in the affirmative, and
Madame de Valmont ijiraediately entered the
secret passage. After carefully closing the door,
the sentinel lighted her down a long flight of
steps, at the foot of which was a strong iron door.
There was another interchange of signals, after
which this barrier was opened, and disclosed a
large hall. The roof showed that it was exca-
vated from the solid rock, but the sides were
lined with human bones ; carefully arranged piles
of muskets and sabres occupied one end of this
sepulchral apartment, and at the other end was
an altar, arrayed with the symbols of the Romish
faith, the large wax candles dimly illuminating
the whole scene. In one of the corners near the
altar was a table, thickly strewn with papers, at
which a young man sat writing. He was in the
prime of life, with expressive gray eyes, silken
black hair and beard, and a determined, resolute
countenance. Rising as Madame de Valmont
approached, he handed her a chair, with a grace-
ful manner indicative of good breeding.
" Welcome to our stronghold, fair conspirator,
we have good news."
" And a horrid place to tell it in. I don't
mind the cut throats up stairs, but these cata-
combs have such a dismal look."
"Would that thebonesof Louis the Sixteenth
and Mai-ie Antoinette had been as respectiully
treated as were these around us when removed
here."
"Thanks, count. I should not complain.
Now for your news !"
" I knew that the loyalty of a do Valmont
would even overlook the horrors of the cata-
combs. The news is this. That zealous Eng-
lishman, Colonel Lowe, is at the island of Rhodes,
with several allies. By the next arrival, we
may hope to hear that Bonaparte is assassinated
— and then — huzza for France and our legitimate
king ! As it was, the Corsican would have been
killed at the battle of the Pyramids, had he not
made some mystic sign to a young Mameluke
who was about to cut him down. Pest — but
they became sworn friends, and the young Mos-
lem came in the packet which brought my letters,
to watch over Madame Josephine."
" Ay, count," said the lady, " all this I know,
and I hope to make this same Mameluke, Cap-
tain Osmanli, one of our agents in the holy cause
of restoration."
" You know him already, then V
" Certainly. Did I not tell you, when I signed
your pledge with blood from my veins, that I
would work with zeal V
" True. And you have done the cause good
service. Between ourselves, though, fair lady,
I think you are animated more by a desire to re-
venge yourself on Bonaparte than — "
"Not upon him, count! No, no ! Not upon
him, for I once loved him. But my revenge is
directed against that wily Creole, Josephine."
" And you desire to sec the Bourbons again in
power, at the same time'?"
" Bourbons — anybody— but I would check the
star of Josephine in its ascendant."
[to be continded.]
Genius, like the lark, is very apt to despise
its post upon the earth, and waste its time in
fluttering and quavering among the clouds; but
common sense is the humble fowl which picks
up the barley corns, and crows and fattens at
leisure.
308
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
HIE STATl'E OF M'ELLINGTON.
The present ycnr will be rendered memoniblc
by the death of two of the most remarkable men
that have ever enacted a part in the ^reat inter-
ests of the world. Recently we gave a represen-
tation of an equestrian portrait of the Iron Duke,
with some details of his military career. Here-
with we give a view of the Wellington Statue,
designed by Chantrey, the celebrated sculptor.
It is surrounded by a full ornamental border
taken from the Wellington Shield, a beautiful
design by Stothard. This border is divided into
ten compartments, in each of which is repre-
sented in UiASo rflip.ro one of the principal events
in the duke's military life np to the peace of
1814. The battle of Waterloo took place in
June, 1815, and ia thus excluded from the bright
6cric9. The statue stands in front of the Koyal
left the whole model perfect; the work was after-
wards completed by his assistant, Mr. Weeks,
under the direction of ihe executors. On other
pages of this number, will be found atfecting
reminiscences of the death of our own revered
Webster; and, in this connection, we cannot do
better than to introduce the following pcriinent
remarks from the New York Courier and En-
quirer, suggested by the coincidence in the de-
parture of these distin^^nislicd men. " Welling-
ton and Web.-^ter ! The iiiigblicst man of the
old world, and the migliticst man of the new. It
has indeed been strangely ordered that they
both should be lying simultaneously on the oppo-
site shores of that great sea which divides the two
hemispheres, dead and yet unentombed. It
would seem as if it were meant to teach man-
kind some new lesson of their kindred blood and
broken only by sobs that will not be suppressed,
and the low murmur of Ihe neighboring waves,
will be lowered into the narrow house which is
to be their last resting-place. At Walmar Cas-
tle, august deputies from the throne will take
the body from its bier of state, and convey it in
well-plumed hearse, stately and slow, to the
mighty metropolis of the empire. Its entry will
be the triumphal entry of a conqueror, like to
those coronation pomps whidi erst were witness-
ed at Westminster or at Rheims. It will be a
spectacle most dazzling to the eye, and imposing
to the imagination. Nothing which the present
or the past can contribute to its magnificence,
will be wanting. Westminster Abbey, the me-
tropolitan temple of all that is great and glorious
in British history for a thousand years, will be
the seat of the funeral service. And never have
every officer of the state, every institution of the
nation, every remnant of ancient chivalry, will
act its part. Amid the booming of cannon, the
tolling of bells, the clangor of trumpets, the
tramping of squadrons, and the wild, tumultuous
bciiiing of millions of hearts, the illustrious dead
will enter his mausoleum like a recognized em-
peror of his race." There is something exceed-
ingly impressive when a nation puts on the garb
of mourning for one of its noble sons. The ex-
ternal drapery of woe, the dirge-like pealing of
bells, the booming of cannon, national banners
waving at half mast, the manifestations of re-
spect and sorrow apparent everywhere — mean-
ing indications of veneration generally entertain-
ed for the men whose departure it is called to
mourn — all strike njion the eye and ear, and
pour a mournful tide of feeling across the mind.
EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF THE LATE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
Exchange ; !t is regarded as the best of the
equestrians that adorn the British metropolis.
The horse is correctly, gracefully, and yet boldly
formed ; the attitude of rest in which it stands
being well qualifled by the appearance of life
and animal energy given to it. The mane is
flowingly and freely treated. The figure of the
duke 13 admirable; while his position on the
horse is as easy and unembarrassed as tlie ab-
sence of stirrups renders possible. The artist
has caught the almost bending back uprightness
of the attitude. The cost of the statue and ped-
estal was £9000; the metal is valued at Si 500,
and was supplied by the government from the
guns which Wellington himself had taken from
the enemy. This monument of Wellington was
erected some years since, and had been framed
by the hands of an eminent artist now no more.
It was the first equestrian bronze statue that ever
had been erected during the life of the person
represented. The contract with Sir Francis
Chantrey was made in 1839. At his death, ho
their common destiny — that humanity should be
made to look upon the " sad, shrouded eye," and
" chill, changeless brow " of her regal children,
and that, deep answering to deep, all nature
should take up the wild lament, and join in one
univcrf^al wail of sori'ow. It is — it is the hand
of Ilim " who bringeth the princes to nothing,
who maketh the judges of the earth as vanity."
The last sad rites are approaching. The lifeless
form of each is about to be borne to the tomb.
But how different the scene ! At Marshfield the
small circle of villagers will assemble, simple in
garb and grave in mien, and yet with hearts that
they could pour out like water for him they
loved. The village pastor will, with broken ut-
terance, put up one childlike, heartfelt supplica-
tion to Him who doeth all things well; meek
voices will unite in the singing of some sweet
■village hymn ; the village bell will toll from the
old weather-stained belfry ; and all that on earth
remains of Daniel Webster will be carried out
on the shoulders of men, and amid a silence,
its storied windows looked upon a more gorgeous
spectacle than will be presented by the queen in
her royal robes, the peers in gold and ermine, the
judges in their vestments of state, the belted
knights in their stalls, and all the array of genius
and rank and beauty gathered from all parts of
the mighty British realm, in one dense mass
about the sarcophagus of Arthur, Duke of Wel-
lington. And never has that embowered roof
echoed, from pealing organ and full voiced
choir, strains of loftier beauty, sublimity and tii-
umph than will then wave through the sable
drapery. There will be military and civic pomp,
too, in the streets, such as England has not often
witnessed. From Westminster to St. Paul's
will move a procession glittering in tlie sun like
one broad sti'cam of martial glory. It will be
like the pageant that bore Monk to the tomb iu
the seventeenth, Marlborough in the eighteenth,
and Nelson in the nineteenth century, and yet
more magnificent than them all. It will be a
great national solemnity, in which every service,
It is no longer an individual son'ow; the public
heart is aitbcted, and the public demonstr.-ition
of grief seems the befitting expression of its
affliction. England now mourns the depar-
ture of one who, for a long course of years, has
stood before the Britisli nation in all the prestige
of power and fiime — the sticcessful competitor
of him before whose onward, impetuous rush
the nations of the continent paled ; and our own
nation, arrayed in weeds of mourning, laments
the departure of one, whose peaceful trophies of
fame and honor shall weave for him a more en-
during chaplet than e\'er adomed the brow of
the conqueror, whose pathway to glory has been
marked by tears and blood, and strewed by
the desolation of happy homes. The historical
record of the life and character of Daniel Web-
ster is a rich legacy that the present age will
bequeath to coming time. As a jurist, a patriot,
and a statesman, his name shall be treasured in
the archives of nations as a radiant point in the
glory of our common country.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
309
HON. ABBOTT LA^lTtEIVCE.
Herewith we give a fine portrait of this gentle-
man, who has recently returned from England,
where he has for some years most admirably sus-
tained the relation of ambassador and minister
plenipotentiary to the British Court. It is well
known that a public reception was designed to
have been tendered to him, but was given up on
account of the death of Mr. Webster. We sub-
join a brief record of the life of Mr. Lawrence,
who was born in the town of Groton, Mass.,
December 13, 1792. He received a liberal edu-
cation, and at the age of sixteen, left his native
town, and took up his residence in Boston. In
a few year^, he entered into pai-tnership with his
brother, as an importing merchant. Jlr. Law-
rence has several times visited Europe, and has
thus obtained a correct knowledge of foreign
life and manners. The change of policy on the
part of ihe United States' Government, in 1815,
led to a change in Mr. Lawrence's business views,
and he forthwith aimed at establishing a great
home manufacturing district. Lowell was the
place selected; here he commenced building fac-
tories for the manufacture of calicoes ; and al-
though but comparatively few years have elapsed
since the first establishment was raised, Lowell
now numbers more than four hundred factories ;
the population of the city is over forty thousand,
and, at the present time, it is one of the fastest
growing cities in America. In November, 1839,
Mr. Lawrence was elected a member of the
United States Congress, and the following four
years fulfilled the duties of his office in the most
satisfactory manner to his constituents. In 1842,
he was appointed one of the commissioners on
the part of the State of Massachusetts, to aid in
the negotiation of the north-eastern boundary
question, when he very ably performed that most
arduous duty. In 1843, he again visited Eng-
la:nd, and was warmly received in some of the
first circles of the metropolis. For many years
his business has been very prosperous ; he has
amassed great wealth, and is reckoned one of
the American merchant princes. Mr. Lawrence
has ever been regarded as one of our most liberal
citizens, and has been an active friend in many a
public enterprise. Among his munificent dona-
tions is one of fifty thousand dollars to Harvard
University, for the purpose of founding a scien-
tific school. He has also aided much in found-
ing churches, pnljlic schools, etc.; and his chari-
ties have been largely and judiciously bestowed
in building up and fostering other benevolent
organizations. He has returned among us with
honor, having sustained the interests ot our na-
tion abroad in a manner most gratifying to his
country and most honorable to himself He has
also won the complete esteem of the British people.
An influential English paper, just previous to his
departure for America, says: "America and
England both owe Mr. Lawrence a deep debt of
gratitude. He has done more, perhaps, than any
American living, to unite the two countries in
the bonds of friendship. Had Mr. Lawrence
spent a million in building some great hospital,
or endowing some mighty charity ; if he had
constructed at his own cost a bridgeor arailway ;
if he had tunnelled a river or a mountain for the
benefit of commerce, or appeared as a public
benefactor in any more apparently solid and tan-
gible manner than he has done, he could not de-
serve a tithe of the gratitude he now merits from
his country. In fulfilling the mission of his
country, he has contrived, as few others would,
or could have done, to do kindly service at the
same time to England. We believe that his last
act was, by conduct at once decided and friendly,
to save England and America from the great
curse of a rupture. We have reason to know
that his active and timely remonstrance and
warning induced the British Government to stay
a rash hand and curb an ill-advised measure.
When Mr. Lawrence goes, he will deserve the
regrets of one country, and the welcome of
another; and whatever may occur, both as a
statesman and an individual, he merits amply
the thanks and suffrages of all good men to waft
him from our shores."
PORTRAIT OF HON. ABBOTT LAWRENCE.
MAMMOTH WATER-CURE.
This establishment, a view of which is here-
with given, is situated on a commanding emi-
nence adjoining the village of Harrodsburg, Ky.,
being thirty miles from Frankfort, twenty-eight
from Lexington, and eight from Kentucky River,
near the geographical centre of the State. The
main establishment is one of the most elegant
and spacious buildings in the West. This, to-
gether wiih the surrounding cottages (which are
all admirably adapted to the comfort and con-
venience of the occupant), will accommodate 500
patients. While seeking to render the dwellings
as desirable as possible, other and equally im-
portant considerations have had due influence in
the mind of the proprietor. The grounds are
elevated and extensive, adorned with every va-
riety of shrubbery grown in America, inter-
spersed with some of the most beautiful and rare
exotics from Europe and Asia, and traversed by
wide gravelled walks, intersecting and crossing
each other in every direction. A small and
beautiful lake is situated within the pleasure-
grounds, whose glassy surface is enlivened by
many tame and wild water fowls. There are
also two bowling saloons, and an elegant saloon
for the accommodation of patients who may wish
for other kinds of physical exercise. The medi-
cal department is filled by Roland S. Houghton,
M. D., whose experience in the various depart-
ments of hydropathy, we trust, will entitle him
to the entire confidence of those who may stand
in need of his professional services; and the
whole establishment is under the management of
C. Graham, M. D., the proprietor. The Water-
Cure has proved eminently successful in rheuma-
tism of every grade and character; dyspepsia,
with all its attendant evils, as nervousness, head-
ache, constipation, palpitation of the heart, hy-
pochondria, etc.; also, inripient consumption,
chronic disease of the liver, popularly called
"liver complaint;" gout, hip disease, chronic
enlargement of the joints, ulcers, and every va-
riety of skin disease, — not to mention a host of
acute diseases, in which it has proved superior
to any other mode of practice.
MAMMOTH WATER-CURE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE WEST, AT HARRODSBURG, KY.
JU3I ISSUED BY
F. GLEASON,
Comer of Tremont &/ Bromfield Sts., Boston .
And for sale at all the Periodical Drpols in the United
States and the Canadas.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, corner Spruce street, New York.
A. "WINCH, IIG Chestnut street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TlYLOR & Co, 111 Baltimore at., Baltimoro.
A. C. BiGLEY, 10 West Third street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS 43 Woodward avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOOD iVARD, cor. 4th and Cbesnut sts., St. Louis.
THE YANKEE CH\MPTON : or,the TorvandhiaLsaEue.
A Revohitionary Storv of the Land and Sea. By SyWa-
nus Coblj, Jr. Price 25 cents.
THE SPANISH MUSKETEER. A Tale of Military Life
By Lieutenant Murray. Price 25 cents,
CORRTNNE ALMANZi: or. the Maprician of Seville. K
Graphic Tale of Spain, Italy and England. By Freder-
ick Hunter. Price 25 cents.
THE QUEEN OF THE SEA; or. Our Lady of the Ocpnn.
A Tale of Love, Strife and Chivalry. By Ned Buntlino.
Price 25 cents.
THE SECRET SERVICE SHIP : or. th*> Fall of S.xn Juan
D'Ulloa. A Thrillinc Tale of the Mexican War. By
Charles E. Averill. Price 25 cents.
THE KING OF THE SEA. A Tale of the Fearless and
Free. By Ned Buntline. Price 25 cents.
THE ARMORER OF TYRE: or, the Oracle and its Priest.
An Ea.item Romance. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Price
25 cents.
THE RED REVENGER : or. tho Pirate King of the Flori
(las. A Romance of the Gulf and its Islands. By Ned
Buntline. Price 25 cents.
THE HEART'S SECRET: or, the Fortunes of a Soldier.
A Story of l/ove and the Low Latitudes. By Lieutenant
Murray. Price 25 centa.
0!?LANDO CHESTER: or. the Adventures of a YonnR
Hunter. A Story of Old A^irRinia's early days. By Syl-
vanus Cobb, Jr. Price 25 cents.
FANNY C AMPBELL : or, the Female Pirate Captain. A
Tale of the Revolution. By Lieutenant Mvuray, Price
25 cents.
THE LONE STAR : or, the Texttn Bravo. A Tale of the
Southwest. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. Price 25 cents.
EUSTATIV: or, the Sybil's Prophecy. A Tale of Ene-
land, France and Spain, in 1522. By Miss Sarah M.
Howe. Price 25 cents.
THE EARL'S WARD: or. the Old Chapel and its Myste-
ries A Lepend of the Land and Ocean, By Sylvanus
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310
GLEASON'S riGTOPJAL DP.AWIXG UOOM COMPANION.
[Written for aiowon'H Pictorial.]
TIIK CIIUCU-'IXION.
BY aUBAN IE. BLAISDBLL.
Thoni wiia oiio all mook and lowly,
vviioni mon ImU doomod to doath,
Tho cho^rn of a pttoplu's nins — ■
' Twiis Qc of Nii./,iu'oth ;
No lowlier nirfi'lng tlioii might bo,
Tliat (Jin should HtautJ forgiven,
And tliii vttlu of shadows opi-d for him,
Who tTrtt Imd dw«lt in huiivun ;
And lie hitd made his home on earth.
1 1 waa for us ho came.
To bring salvation unto thoso
iioliuving on his uamo.
And hy hh hand the lame were hoalcd,
Tho blind receivod their sight ;
0, wlittt were thoae who thus should Htrivo
To (lucntih the source of light!
That glorious head was erowncd with thorns,
Ifet i)atioutly he stood
Among the throng, who waited there.
To slako their thirst in blood;
And fiercer eyes glared upon him,
From that jeering, mocking crew.
Yet he cried, " Forgive them, Father,
For thoy know not what they do I"
0, had not this forgiving love
A charm to shame their hate !
A Saviour, held up to the scorn
That hung round such a fate I
Ay, e'en a dj ing thief had faith
In the hour of earthly doom.
Already he beheld a light,
That shone beyood the tomb ;
And his master's words were gentle,
They dwelt not on his vice,
" This day thou shalt be with me,
Aa tenter Paradise."
'Twas past 1 A star had fallen —
The star of Bethlehem;
And to the grave, whose sacrifice
Kad been the world to them.
Three mourning women came alone,
In the shadow of the daT.vn,
Yet lo I the stone is rolled aw ly.
He whom they seek hath gone.
An angel ssiJth, " He is not here,
Behold where he hath lain.
But the ruins of the temple
Have risen in light again !"
[Written for Glcasou's Pictorial.]
XmCLE JEFFERSON AI^D HIS IHECE.
BT GEO. CANNING HILL.
■ The world is all up-hill, when we would do. — FesLus.
In a little chamber, whose single window a
huge lilac bush shaded, where the tinkle of the
rain upon the dried shingles could be heard on a
stormy day in the summer, a young man had
been sitting before his table. There were a few
books at his hand, dingy and well worn. He had
been studying them.
He pushed back from his table rather impa-
tiently than otherwise, and tried to look out
through the window and lilac hush.
" I might as well make a start now as any
time," said he, after a few moments musing;
" and I think I will. What can be tlie use of
waiting longer 1 While I hesitate, time is pass-
ing. Others will be before me in the race, for it
is all hardly more than a race. Notliing, surely,
is to be gained by ray delay here; and if I am
ever to accomplish my purpose, I must begin at
once. There is no more time to lose. But
then, but then, there is Nelly! What shall I do
away from her ? What can I do 1 How can I go
from here, while she is left behind 'i What will
my life all seem to me without her"!"
And from this he wandered away into a maze
of the most lugubrious and unhappy feelings one
might well conceive.
" I'll go and see her uncle at once !" exclaim-
ed he, after a long fit of such musing, during
which the only sound that might be heard was a
mouse nibbling busily in the corner; "I'll see
him at once — this very afternoon."
And he sprang from his chair as he said it
making luistc with the necessary equipments for
liis vit^it.
He approached the mansion of Mr. Jefferson
Brancli by a sortof blird lane, that made strange
advances toward the place througli a little copse,
across a barren heath, and then behind another
patch of wood, all the while giving his heart the
strangest feelings to feed upon, and liis feet the
greatest distance to travel over.
At length he came in sight of the house. It
was what people thereabouts called a "sightly"
biilding; standing on a slight elevation, and ju-
diciously shaded and protected by a group of
twisted o'd c!m trees that sitook down their dingy
blossoms in the spring-time upon tlio green luwn
and the roof. There were good, substantial
grounds around the house, and they had the ad-
ditional advantage of licing well laid out. There
was nothing like a tawdry attempt at effect with
them. They rather had the air of a solid sys-
tem in their outlay, as they most certainly did in
their cultivation. Many and many a time, as
the young man passed in view of them, had he
secretly envied tho thril"t of ihc place and its
posses'ior.
But this is not getting on wiih my story. By
.'<onie means, iiroI)ably unknown even to himself,
he at last found himselfstanding on tho high porti-
co, gazing rigidly at the door. He was not quite
sure that liis knees did not shake a trifle. At
any rate, he was very certain that his tongue had
swollen so much in liis mouth that he dou!)tcd if
be should be able properly to do the errand on
wliich lie had come. Mustering courage, how-
ever, and making a great effort to believe that
he was as calm and cool as fie ever was in his
life, he let fall the huge brass door-knocker, cast
after tlie fashion of one of the tei-rible heads of
Cerberus, upon the capacious plate beneath.
Ho went through that horribly noisy process four
or five times, till the old hall rung with the clat-
tering echoes. A servant waited on him.
" Is Mr. JelTerson Branch at home V inquired
the young man.
He was very particular to give the whole name,
because he felt it to be business of the highest
importance. The servant assured him that Mr.
Branch was at home. The young man would
like to see him.
" 0, yes !" that was a thing easily done. And
so he was carried along into the spacious sitting-
room, stocked with its quaint old furniture, and
hung with its dreamy old papers, where he was
politely requested to remain until Mr. Branch
could be apprised of his proximity.
"Ask the young man to walk in here," said
the old gentleman to the servant.
He was intently studying the strange figures
on the queer old papcr-iiangings, when the ser-
vant interrupted him, and desired him to walk
another way, across the hall again, into tho little
room the old gentleman called his cabinet.
He entered, timidly of course, looking every-
where but at the person who sat leaning far back
in a big stuffed chair.
"Mr. Edward Gray, I believe?" said Mr
Jefferson Branch, to him, as soon as he had
taken him all into his quick eye. " Wish to sec
me, I understand'? Very well — very well; that
you can do, sir. Sit down, Mr. Gray; sit down
in a chair you will find yonder," said the talka-
tive old gentleman.
And then, when he had got so far in the way
of opening the business of the moment, he took
it into liis odd head to stop short where he was,
leaving the young man to commence with his
business just when and where to him it seemed
most proper. And to add still more to his visi-
tor's embarrassment, he fixed his large gray eye
upon him, and kept it steadily there for many
moments.
It was hard work. It was dreadful hard work.
It was the hardest work of all for Mr. Edward
Gray to begin. But somehow he did begin, and
it was on this wise :
'■ You may be aware, Mr. Branch," said ho,
"that for some time Miss Nelly and myself —
that I have been — that is, that she is an object of
much more than ordinary regard to me."
" The dickens, boy !" cried the old gentleman.
" I have been aware of no such thing ! Indeed
— indeed, sir, I am aware of no such tiling at all !
But — but — but I — "
The bachelor certainly was growing excited
over it.
"Excuse me, then, for the presumption," re-
plied Edward, growing collected with seeing Mr.
Branch grow excited.
" Presumption it is, I should think !" said the
old bachelor.
" But I didn't know but ahe might — "
" Shf^! Might what? Nelly might'? My niece
might? Might what? But this is all the
strangest piece of work to me !"
"1 only came, sir," continued Edward, "lo
ask your consent to my addressing your niece,
wlih the most serious and honorable intentions!"
He had got it all out at last. In a breath.
"What! court my Nelly?" said Uncle Jeff.,
staring at him as if he were some villain who
had entered his house to rob him of all be was
worth.
The young man blushed, to hear the case
slated so plainly. He assented with a bow.
"Court Nell! You court Nell!'* cxcluinied
the old man. *' Why, what have you ijot, sir 'i"
" Health, energy, and ambition," proudly re-
plied Edward.
He thought that this kind of a reply would
silence tlie jjroud uncle's cavils. But he was a
trifle mistaken there.
" Health, energy! — fudge!" exclaimed Uncle
JeUerson. "And what of that? Who hasn't
got that? What lias that to do with this matter?
How fur along would that help you, do you
suppose?"
" It is a good start, better than a large capital
■iciihoni. them," suggested he.
Uncle Jeff seemed to concentrate his vision in
a more burning focus, until Edward fancied he
was looking exactly into the middle of his heart.
" It's no start at all, boy," said he. " Why,
what are you thinking of ? Want to get leave
to come and wait on my Nelly, when you're so
much at a loss how to get on for yourself?
Why, the thing is altogether preposterous !"
Edward already began more than half to think
it was, too.
*' Besides, sir," continued the bachelor, "your
famih/? — " and there was a painful pause.
The fire burned up strongly in the young
man's heart, at these last words.
" Then it's because I am a poor boy, and my
mother has no more than a poor widow should
have, that I am reduced to this alternative of
fairly begging what others would boldly ask for.
It's because I happen to have lived here beside
his house all my days, that he thinks I cannot
he made of the same stuff that makes other men "
These, and such as these, were the thoughts
that rushed like a whirlwind through his brain,
as he sat under the domineering eye of the proud
and haughty old bachelor uncle. He sprang
from his chair.
"I will make him yet know of what I am
made !" said he, to himself, as he stood proudly
up before the watchful guardian.
" You presume altogether too much, sir, — al-
together too much, sir," said Uncle Jeff, curling
his wrinkled lips haughtily. "I wonder that
you have dared to think of this thing !"
" I sec that I possess no favor, sir, with you,"
replied Edward, deferentially, " and I may as
well withdraw."
"Aswell, perhaps/' retorted the old gentleman.
"But I shall see you again."
" Not upon this subject. Never again upon
this subject, sir!" said he. " I hope you will re-
member. I trust I shall not have to remind
you. I certainly wish you well in your way
through life; but that doesn't imply everything
else. Good morning, sir. Good morning. Nev-
er think of such a thing as iliis again, I beg
you !" And the old gentleman rose from his
chair, too, and fairly bowed him out of the
room.
The disappointed lover seized his hat in the
hall, and hurried out of the house. He seemed
to know nothing either of himself or his where-
abouts, until his eye caught sight of a muslin
dress, glimmering down through the leaves. It
had the effect to bring him to his senses.
He found that he had wandered off into the re-
mote end of the little copse, that received the
blind lane in its embrace. But bow he came
there, any one else could have told as well as he.
He looked steadily. The muslin robe was ap-
proaching him. And as he looked, he made out
the person, just as he had dared to expect. It
was Nelly herself!
He told her the whole of his determination,
and his adventure. His heart swelled as he
spoke ; but his nerve was sufficient to keep back
the overflow.
" It's plain enough, dear Nell," said he, taking
her band as they sat down on a huge gray stone
together, " it's plain enough that the prejudice of
your uncle against me is insurmountable. As
things are, I have got but one course before me.
^t.s / love i/oii, dear Nell, there is but one way for
me."
" Pray, tell me what it is, Edward," besought
she, her eyes moistening with the t-ight of his
deep mortification and disappointment.
" Why, this is all there is to it," said he. " If
I stay at home here, plodding slowly along as
other young rustics plod, I have not the least
hope in the world of ever producing a change in
the sentiments of your uncle. I never could do
it. He taunted me with my birth this very day.
I cannot think of staying here. I know it will
be my greatest loss to go away from you ; but,
then, I have the strongest hope that it will be
only temporary."
Nelly seemed lost in what he said.
" But if I go, as I have long been thinking I
should do, I can see that an honorable way is
open for me to the regard of even so opinionated
and proud a mau as your Uncle Jeff, Nell. And
I.s-W^go!"
iSlie looked fully into his eyes. lie di'Cw her
closer to him, and she broke forth in sobs and
tears. Cruel uncle. Tyrant opinion. Kcmorse-
Icss custom, that builds high a wall between
two such natures, merely because the one makes
up in richness what it lacks in ready money !
They sat there in the little tract of wood for
more than an hour. It was more than an hour
of ordinary life to them both. In that time, Ed-
ward had laid open to her the utmost extent of
his plans, his liopcs, his ambition, and objects of
pursuit. All he sought was, her encouragement.
Neither thought of the waste of years that proba-
bly stretched between that strange hour and the
fruition of their dearest hopes. Yet they were
both earnest, full of faith, and full of truth.
Only three days afterward, the disappointed
young man had taken his seat in the village
stage, his loaded trunk being safely strapped be-
hind, and trundled sadly, tliough with a still
stout heart, out of town. He caught a glimpse
of a white kerchief fluttering from the chamber
window of Mr. Branch's mansion. He needed
not to be told what it meant. Did a glistening
tear sail across the glassy disc of his eye, just
then?
Nell sank back into her chair, and gave way
to the torrent of her grief in secret. She had
never thought of committing such a mistake as
mentioning the name of her lover to her uncle.
There was no solace for her left. Yes ; there
was one. Edward was to write his mother regu-
larly; and in those letters Nell was promised
that she should always find enclosed notes for
herself. She must herself manage to receive
them from the hands of Mrs. Gray, without
awakening the suspicions of her cruel guardian.
And so the girl became quite a regular visitor
at the little brown cottage of the widow Gray ;
her uncle, however, mistrusting nothing at all
of the kind.
The first letter came very soon, Nell was
both happy and sad. It gave her joy to know
how her lover was situated, and it gave her pain
to know, or to believe, that he went through it
all on account of her; and that she, too, could
not help matters at all, if she Avould.
Perhaps a year and a quarter had passed.
Uncle Jeff was in uncommon spirits, one day,
for he had just told his pretty niece that he was
going to have some friends come to visit him
from abroad.
It was a charming day in early autumn, when
they arrived at last. There was a stage-load of
them, and among them a gentleman who had
been attracted by his friends' descriptions of
Nell, to come on with them and measure the
truth of what they told him. The very natural
result was, that he was carried away with Nell
at first sight. He had hardly the calmness to
admit, even to himself, the nature of bis feelings.
In a word, he was really in love.
Uncle Jeff descried this new partiality, and
favored it. As circumstances happened to con-
cur, he had only given his nieee a few very
shrewd practical hints on the subject of encour-
aging this gentleman, whose name was Mr. Ford,
when, on the selfsame afternoon, young Edward
Gray himself returned to the village ! It was
some time before he could contrive to convey the
intelligence to Nell, but he did it at last.
A day or two after, Mr. Ford was closeted in
the cabinet with the bachelor, talking about no
one so much as the old gentleman's niece. He
was laying open his wishes to the uncle. How
it gratified him, too, to hear that uncle speak ap-
provingly of them all, and tell him that nothing
stood in the way of their accomplishment.
At the same hour, Nell was in a distant part
of the little lane, talking with her true lover. I
cannot attempt to rehearse what passed between
them. The reader must draw that out of his
own imagination. It is his prerogative with
such subjects.
It is enough to be obliged to narrate, that just
as they had become most deeply interested in
their conversation, and when they were most for-
getful of everything and every person around
them, an individual leaped a hi^h wall just in
the rear of the spot where they sat, and stood
near them. It was no one but the strange gen-
tleman that had been so smitten with Nell !
He bowed to her, apologizing in a word for his
unexpected intrusion ; though he said he bad
been told that she walked that way, and he was
in quest of her. Then casting a fierce and
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING . ROOM COMPANION.
311
searching look oa Edward, he walked hurriedly
away.
It was by no means the strangest thing con-
ceivable, that he had given a faithful description
of the scene to Mr. Jelferson Branch, sometime
before Nell came home again; although he did
so under an exacted promise from the old gen-
tleman that Nell, at least, should hear nothing
of it.
But the information sped like a poisoned ar-
row to the heart of Uncle Jeff. He exliaustcd
every vituperative epithet upon the young and
ardent suitor, in his storming rage. He assured
]VIi'- ITord that he would certainly resort to some
very emphiilic means, and at no great distance
of time, either, to teach so bold a person his
proper place.
All this gave Mr. Ford new courage. If such
were the feelings of Mr. Branch on the subject,
it certainly ottered him the enjoyment of the
widest liberties towards the young man. And
he was in haste to practise upon his convictions.
On the very next day, a knock was heard at
the door of the widow Gray's cottage. The door
opened, and Edward Gray confronted the same
Mr. Ford, who had surprised him with Nell only
the day before.
"I would see you a few moments alone," said
the latter.
They walked off across the yard, and into an
adjacent meadow. Mr. Ford proeceded, very
laconically and directly, of course, to acquaint
Edward with the fiict that his attentions to Miss
Nelly Branch were exceedingly distasteful to
Jiim, no less than to her uncle, and he doubted
not they must be to her likewise. And on the
strength of this much, he proceeded also to de-
sire that he would from that day cease all thought
of communicating with her.
Edward heard him patiently through, though
his blood was several times at fever heat ; and
then he took the occasion to say to Mr. Ford
that he was a contemptible spy on other people's
affairs, and that all his desires would be respect-
ed quite as much as he was respected himself.
AH of which lie took in very liigh dudgeon.
But it wivs of no use. Words on liis part
were met with firmness on the part of Edward.
He blustered, and Edward laughed. He boasted,
and the young lover sneered, as no other man
could sneer. He dropt a few words by way of
warning, and Edward politely advised him to
husband carefully all his own resources against
a coming day of need. And with these feelings
and impressions, the two men separated.
When, some fifteen montlis afterward, young
Edward Gray had fully completed his prepara-
tory legal studies, and jiasscd through a rigid ex-
amination with high credit to himself, the friend
in whose office he bud been, made him an offer
of partnership. It was accepted ; and he enter-
ed upon the work of his life, without wearing
and warping through that sea of vexatious de-
lay which discourages so many who see in it all
no cause but the envy and selfishness of their
ciders. He assisted his partner in trials, and
had already begun to try the effect of his o^\ti
tongue upon a jury. Everybody seemed to have
imbibed the idea that he was a young man of
much promise.
A new term of court had begun. As Mr.
Edward Gray entered the court-room in the
morning, he found quite a large collection pre-
sent, Mr. Jefferson Branch among the rest. Yet
Mr. Branch did not offer to renew the acquaint-
ance. Edward wondered at the meaning of all
this.
Presently an indictment was read to the court,
a prisoner rising to listen to it. That prisoner
was Mr. Ford ! The cliarge was the commission
of forger y ; he having used tlic very "good"
name of Mr. Branch, where he certainly had no
authority to do so.
He pleaded "guilty," and so the case was
ended, so far as a trial was concerned. Mr.
Gray gave him a deliberate look, as he passed
out of the room, but the wretched fellow dropped
his eyes to the ground.
"A fine husband for Nelly!" thought the
young lawyer.
The young lawyer had again returned to the
village, at lengtii determined to take some deci-
sive step with the crusty old Uncle Jeff. He
knew that he loved nobody as he did Nelly, and
she, too, seemed determined to marry no one
except hnn. And thus he was led to make
another visit home ; this time, however, not as
tlie poor and friendless boy, but with a good start
in the world, and a professional reputation of
fine promise.
The same mail by which he arrived in the vil-
lage, brought likewise a letter to Mr. Jefferson
Branch. It happened to he, too, a letter of ter-
rible meaning and portent.
Edward Gray was sitting with his mother, in
the silence of her little cottage and his own na-
tive home. It was already evening, and the
widow sat patiently listening to the story of her
son's lofty dreams, and of his love for Nell.
There was a sharp ra]j heard suddenly against
the door. It was repeated, as if the person with-
out were exceedingly impatient. The door was
opened.
"Mr. Branch says he must see Mr. Edward
Gray at once !" said the servant of the former,
out of breath, sadly.
Somehow Mr. Brancli had become apprised
of the recent arrival of Mr. Gray. The latter,
therefore hastened over to the mansion of Uncle
JcfF, wondering what the errand could be, and
leaving his mother to wonder likewi^^e.
He entered the presence of the old bacheloi*,
who, without being at the pains properly to ac-
cost him, at once broke out with :
" I had a letter by mail to night, sir, apprising
me that nearly all my property was gone !"
" Gone!'* Edward could not help repeating
after him, amazed to understand him.
" Two large mercantile houses, in whose
hands it all has been, have failed, — so the letter
says ; and I am told that I am ruined — yes,
ruined! 0, did I ever think I should come to
this ! Read the letter, sir. See if you can do
anything for me. I always believed I was ac-
counted what they called a 'preferred creditor.'
Perhaps you can see into the matter!"
Edward Gray read the letter through. After
that he made Mr. Branch go through a clear
statement of his affairs, as they were at all in-
volved with the business of these two mercantile
houses, in order to satisfy him of the need of
taking any step at all, and if so, what step.
They were closeted for nearly two hours, and at
the end of that time, the j^'oung lawyer rose, and
hastened to his mother. Immediately after ap-
prising her of the urgcnty of the case, and leav-
ing his love for Nell, whom he had not yet seen,
he started off for town again in one of Mr.
Branch's carnages.
He consulted at once with his partner. They
made strenuous exertions together. In their
search, they found quite assets enough to cover
Mr. Branch's claims. They saved him his
whole estate !
I need add no more to this simple statement.
Jefferson Branch received Edward Gray with
open arms, and welcomed him to tlie free enjoy-
ment of what lie had, by his ready tact and skill,
saved. In other words, the two patient lovers
were speedily united, as ihey had long desired to
be. And Mr. Branch, to this day, has a way of
boasting quite as much of the husband of his
charming niece, as he ever had of praising the
pretty niece herself.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
ANNIE MAY.
Er A>G1E U. BIGELOW.
Gone from the hearts that love her,
Gone from her home away ;
Gone in her childish beauty,
Little Annie May !
Gone like the roooulight's gUmmer,
From off the rippling streftni;
Gone like the joyous pictures
Of cMldhood's glowing dream.
Gone like tbe flowers of tearful spring,
Gone us the dew at morn ;
Gone like the songs of summer birds,
Fled as the stars at dawn,
But in a land of beauty,
Of ever-blooming flowers ;
Where care or sorrow conies not,
A holier cJimc than ours :
She dwelleth now — and knecleth '
Before the throne of God ;
In praise to Him who raiseth
The spirit from the sod.
A LESSON IN CIVILIZATION.
In Korway the laws against cruelty to animals
are very severe. — In Ciiristiana, an Englisli work-
man named Thomas Byrne, employed on the
railway from the lake of Mjoesiu to that town,
had been condemned to eight days' imprison-
ment on bread and water for unmercifully beat-
ing a horse. But, by the laws of the country,
and on account of the health of the piisoner,
every day's feeding on bread and water is fol-
lowed by three days' feeding on the ordinary
food of the prison, making in reality a coniine-
ment of twenty-nine days. — J-orei'/n Journal.
[^Vntt^^n for Gleason's Pictorial.]
Th3 Young Doctor's First Patient.
BY iMKS. S. r. DOUGnTY.
"Give me joy, Uncle John, I am safely
through; and ihere lies the foundation of my fu-
ture fortunes," exclaimed a pleasant, manly-
looking young man, as wiih a quick, eager step
he entered the apartment of his kind-hearted
relative, and placed on the table before him a
roll of paper tastefully ornamented with blue
ribbons.
" Your diploma, my dear boy," replied the old
man, wiih warm sympatby. " I congratulate
you with all my heart. Not that I liad any fears
lest you should not succeed, Herbert, but it is
plcasant'to know that the tedious examination
is over, and that the M. D. for which you have
toiled so diligently, may now be rightfully at-
tached to your name."
"And now if I meet with the success which I
may reasonably expect, I shall not much longer
be a burthen to you, my dear uncle," continued
the young man. " Yonr kindness lias furnished
me with tlie means of acquiring independence,
if not wealth. What would have become of me
— a poor, penniless orphan — if Providence had
not raised me up sncli a friend ?"
"You were the child of my dear sister, Iler-
bert,and when your parents were taken from you,
I could do no less than to receive you into my
heart. Amply have you repaid the care which
I have bestowed upon you, and gladly would 1
still keep you with me to share the fortune
which God bath given me, but I feel that it will
be far better for you to go forth into the world,
and exert your owm talents, and learn to rely
upon your own resources."
" It will, indeed, uncle. I could not be happy
to sit down and fold my hands in idleness. Be-
sides, I love my profession, and am anxious to
be actively engaged in it. Your old friend, Dr.
Wing, kindly mentioned to me today an eligible
situation in a flourishing village about eighty
miles from here, and Iiinted tbat lie had some
influence with many of the principal inhabitants,
which he would exert in my belialf, if I wisiied."
" It may be a good opening for you, Herbert.
I will see the doctor myself in the course of the
day and make some inquiries. I shall be but a
poor lonely old man when you are gone, my
boy, but my selfishness shall not stand in the
way of your rise in life."
Much affected, the young man pressed the
withered hand, which was extended to him, to
his lips, and for some minutes remained silent
and thoughtful. At length he said affectionately :
"I have often wondered, Uncle John, that
you, wliose heart seems to overflow with kind-
ness and sympathy for your fellow-beings, have
never formed those ties wbich would, ere this,
have gathered loved cues around you, to watch
over your declining years."
" Tbe hopes of my youth were blighted, Pler-
bert. It is a sad tale, which has long lain buried
in my heart ; but if it will be any satisfaction to
you, I will explain why I am thus d^olate and
alone."
Herbert di-cw his cliair closer to his uncle's
side, and after a short pause, the old man wiped
his moistening eyes, and commenced his story.
"I was but a little stripling when my parents
received into their family the orpban daughter
of deceased friends who, in dying, had bequeath-
ed her to their care. A lovely, fairy-like little
being was Grace Maynell. Your mother, who
was my only sister, was several years younger
than myself, and hitherto I liad known no com-
panion in my own home ; but after the arrival of
Grace, this want was fully supplied. We soon
became inseparable in our studies, and in our
pleasures; and my parents rejoicing in our hap-
piness, encouraged our attachment. Years passed
on, and the progress of my education demanded
that I should leave home, and devote myself to
my studies in one of the best literary institutions
of our country. Well I remember the parting
between myself and Grace. It seemed as if her
little heart would break, as she sobbed out her
grief upon my bosom. From that time we met
hut at stated periods, but always with joy and
unabated aflection. As her loveliness expanded
into tbe beauty of early womanhood, I gradually
recognized the nature of my feelings towards
her. She was no longer the dear and clierished
sister, but eagerly I looked forward to the time
when I might claim licr as all my own — my
bride — my wife. Ilcr image was cnt\^'ined with
every vision of the future.
"At the expiration of my college life, I rc-
tui-ned home for a visit of a f^w weeks before
commencing tbe study of the law, which I had
chosen for my profession. In an unguarded
moment, I confessed my love to Grace, and fond-
ly listened for tiie assurance tbat it was returned.
Alas ! when the answer came, the hopes of years
perished in a moment. With many tears for the
misery she felt she was about to inflict, slie own-
ed that she had regardt d me but as a beloved
brother, and had supposed that my affection for
her was of the same nature. Her heart was al-
ready given to another — one whom I had myself
introduced to her as truly deserving of her
regard .
"My very being seemed to have changed.
The charm of existence had gone. My home,
once so dear, had now become distasteful to me.
I abandoned the profession to which I had re-
solved to devote myself, and plunged at once
into the busy scenes of an active mercantile life,
hoping to lind some relief for my misery.
"Not many months elapsed before the mar-
riage of Grace, and a letter from my sister in-
formed me that she had accompanied her hus-
band to the western country. He was at that
time an intelligent and promising young man,
but subsequent events showed him to be devoid
of principle, and little calculated to render any
woman happy, especially one so gentle and sen-
sitive as Grace.
" We heard much of her suflerings, and my
father once visited her in her distant home, and
begged her to return to the friends of her child-
hood. B.ut she still clung to the unprincipled
man who had gained her early affections. Sev-
eral children were born to them, but all died in
early youth, with tbe exception of the youngest,
who, I believe, still lives. Since tbe death of
your mother, I have had but little means of
communication with Grace. We have never
met since the fatal day when I discovered that
all my cherished hopes were but vain and illu-
sory ; but often in my dreams she seeras to
stand before me in all the loveliness of her
youth, and the musical tones of her voice once
more awaken emotions in my heart which I had
believed long since cold and dead."
The sympathizing interest with which Herbert
listened to the simple tale was grateful to Uncle
John's somewhat excited feelings, and with an
effort to regain his cheerfulness, he said, kindly :
" This is but a sad story to tell to one who is
just entering upon life, but it may serve as a
warning to you never to surrender your heart
until you have good reason to believe yourself
beloved in return. And now let us return to
your own prospects. You say that you are de-
sirous of commencing practice at once, and in-
deed I think myself that it is better that you
should do so, while the knowledge you have ac-
quired is fresh in your mind. You must not be
too sanguine of immediate success. A young
physician often has a steep and toilsome hill to
climb. Years may pass before you will attain
to any eminence in your profession."
"lam not easily discouraged my dear uncle,"
was the animated reply, "and am well prepared
for disappointments and delays. And yet I
hope that I may prove one of the prosperous
ones. I have always had a presentiment that
my very first patient would, in some way, affect
my future fortunes."
"Probably some poor Irishman, who, with a
broken head, or a sick wife and childer, patron-
izes the young doctor, in the hope that his fee
will be a more reasonable one than is demanded
by the well established practitioner," returned
Uncle John, smiling. " I do not think much of
presentiments, my boy, but we shall see how
yours turns out."
A few brief weeks passed on, and the busy
gossips of die flourishing village of C had
found abtmdance of food for their curiosity in
the appearance and movements of the young
physician who had come among them. His fine
form, and open, manly countenance gained tbe
good will of tbe community, while his neatly
fitted up office, handsome equipage, and other
immistakeable tokens, convinced tbe elder and
wiser. Tones tliat be had something besides liis
profession to depciul upon, and that they should
be justified in showing him public marks of re-
gard, and he soon became a favoiite guest at all
the village gatherings, from tlie gay picnic to the
charitable meeting of the sewing-circles, where
the fair ladies, suspending their labors at dusk,
were then ready to welcome those of the other
sex who were inclined to pass a social evening.
[COXTINUED ON PAGE 314. J
312
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
m^mmSd
i^^M^sMP:^:^.^,
VIEW OF THE CITY OF NEWBURYPORTj MASS.j FROM SALISBURY.
CITY OF NEWBURYPORT.
The town of Newbiuy was established in 1635, and separated
in 17G4 by setting oft' from it a part lying on the river Merrimac
as the town of Newburyport, containino; an area only of six hiin-
died Olid furl 1/ acves in extent of terriiory — the smallest town in
the State. In the year 1800 the ])opulation was about 6500, and
has varied but little from that number until about 1838, when the
cotton factories commenced operations; in 1850 the population
was nearly UOOO. If we can depend upon the observaiion of
travellers, there are but few towns in the United States that pre-
sent a more beautiful appearance than Newburyport. From
which ever quarter it is approached, one is struck with the rej^a-
larity of its streets, the neatness and air of comfort ofitsbuild-
ingo, and the beauty and grandeur of its shade trees. The line of
separation was designed only to comprise the merchants, traders
and artificers' dwellings by the river-side, w-ith a certain portion
of common lands for pasturage and other public purposes.
Thus set off, Newburyport was a narrow strip of land along the
river Merrimac, and not even extending to the sea — although ex-
ercising of necessity pilotage and quarantine jurisdiction, it being
practically the seaport of the river's mouth.
Ship building has been the principal business
on the Merrimac. The place was distin-
guished at an early period for skilful artists
and industrious mechanics, and also for the _
staunch and elegant ships which they pro- M
duce; it also has the reputation of having -^
been a flourishing commercial town ; hut cir-
cumstances of a depressing character have
arisen, which have reduced its commerce, and t^_
placed it in this respect far below tlie import-
ance it once sustained. The great fire in
1811, in addition to other causes, which com-
menced on the 31st of May, in the heart of
its business population, and desolating the
fairest and most important section of the
town. Its effects were lasting, and its influ-
ence blighting to the spirits of its citizens ; so
furious was its progress that no efforts were
available in checking its ravages until it had
swept over a space of nearly seventeen acres,
leaving only a mass of deplorable ruins; 250
buildings were entirely destroyed ; the loss
was estimated to exceed two million dollars,
and the suffering induced was beyond calcu-
lation. In Coffin's History of Newbury, in
speaking of this fearful calamity, we find the
following description : " The 'scene, says a
gentleman, who was present during the night,
was the most truly terrible I have ever wit-
nessed. At the commencement of the fire,
it was a bright moonliglit night, and the even-
ing was cool and pleasant. But the moon
gradually became obscured, and at length
disappeared in the thickeloudof smoke which
shrouded the atmosphere. The glare of light
throughout the town was intense, and the heat
that of a sultry summer noon. The streets
were thronged with those whose dwellings
were consumed, conveying ihc remains of their
property to places of safety. The incessant
crash of falling buildings, the roaring of chim-
neys like distant thunder, the flames ascend-
ing in curling volumcH from a vast extent of
ruins, the air Hllfd wiih a shower of fire, and
the feathered throng fluttering o-vcr their
wonted retreats, and dropping into the flames ; the looing of the
cows, and the confused noise of exertion and distress, united to
impress the mind with the most awful sensations." The same
causes which led to the growth of a population of merchants, tra-
ders and mechanics on the river-side, produced in course of time
an increase of that population on the borders of the town. Per-
sons engaged in, or more or less dependent on, the fishing busi-
ness, collected along the river on one side, and those interested in
ship building on the other side, while many of the commercial and
trading portion retired into the rural part of Newbury; the effect
of this was, that a population identified as one community in all
its social and business relations, found itself unnaturally sundered
in municipal matters, besides heing inconveniently restricted in
territorial limits. Tliese considerations induced suggestions for
the enlargement of the town by annexing to it a part of Newbury,
which was at length amicably consummated in 1851, by an act of
the legislature of that year. By that act the territory of New-
buryport was increased to about s/.r//iou.9an(/ acres, and the popula-
tion to nearly 13,000, entitling it to a city form of government,
according to the institutions and usages of the State of Massachu-
KSSEX MERRIMAC SUSPENSION BRIDGE, NEWBURYPORT.
setts ; and application being made, a city charter was granted on
the 24th of May, 1851 — which was accepted by the inhabitants
on the 4th of June following. City officers were elected, and the
city government duly organized. The city is divided into six
wards, the aldermen and common council being elected in the
several wards. Within the last ten years much has been done in
public improvements, and added much to the beauty and comfort
of the place. Many trees have been transplanted in the streets;
much attention and labor have been devoted to the Mall, and
around the Pond and Burying-groimd. The city is well supplied
with water in case of fire — the erection of commodious school-
houses — a superb City Hall, etc., and are now about introducing
gas, the works being nearly completed. A breakwater was con-
structed by the United 'States, in 1830, near the mouth of the
harbor, for the purpose of improving the same, at an expense ex-
ceeding $30,000. It has been as yet productive of but little if
any advantage. A pier has since been erected on Salisbury side,
covering Badger's rocks, which affords a convenient harbor for
vessels when prevented from coming up to town. The Merri-
mac Suspension Bridge, a beautiful erection, a view of which is
also herewith given, crosses the Mcmmac
from the north part of the town. It was built
in 1827. Abutments with stone walls, filled
in with sods, gravel, etc., project from either
shore. That on the Newburyport side is 240,
and that on the Salisbury side is 187 yards
long. The bridge rests on these abutments
and on four jncrs built of stone from high-
water mark, and is further supported by chains
passing over the tops of ])yramids erected on
the piers and iinder the centres of the arches.
The span of the centre arch is 83 yards. The
bridge is built in two distinct longitudinal
parts, so that, in case of accident to one, ihe
passage of the river will not be interrupted.
Whole length, three- sevenths of a mile. Cost,
$70,000. There has been a rapid and steady
increase of travel over this bridge. The East-
ern Railroad Bridge, another beautiful fabric,
is erected immediately above the Suspension
Bridge, and presents a very picturesque aspect
to the eye of the beholder, when a train of cars
in rapid motion passes over it. Newburyport,
in common with many of its sister towns,
suffered much during the early days of the
colonies and in the Revolution subsequently.
During the difficulties with the French direc-
tory, Newburyport presented an uncommon
example of patriotism by building a twenty-
gun ship by the subscription of some of the
principal inhabitants of the town, and offered
it to the government, and asked for the final
reimbursement of the net cost " at the con-
venience of the government." This offer,
when our navy was small, and the means of
the government limited, was felt to be valu-
able. The commercial prosperity of New-
buryport was at one period almost uneximi-
pled in a town of its size. But commercial
restrictions; the fire of 1811 ; and the war of
1812, bore heavily upon a mercantile and
ship-building populalion, and the town has
hardly yet recovered its former prosperity,
but of late years its commerce ha*; improved,
and its fishing interests have yielded a fair
retuni.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
313
The Oak Hill Cemetery, a view
of which is also given here, is a
most beautiful rural location on
the southwest avenue to the city.
It was org:anized and incorporated
in 1842, and consecrated in May,
1843. The site is most eligible for
the purpose, possessing, as it does,
a varied surface ; the prospect from
its highest elevation is extensive
and pleasing. It derives its name
from a luxuriant growth of oaki
which originally adorned it, and
which are only removed from the
lots, affoi'ding still a delightful
shade to the paths, thus rendering
it a pleasant and agreeable resort
during the summer months ; it con-
tains several chaste and beautiful
monuments. The available lots
having all been taken up, the cor-
poration is in treaty for several ad-
ditional acres of adjoining land to
extend its limits. And here we
would say, we are glad to see that
our cities and villages are more
and more giving attention to these
rural depositories of the dead. It
accords with all that is truly good
in our nature, to make the tomb a
source of healthful contemplation.
And when, instead of being blend-
ed with repulsive emblems and
gloomy distortions, it is embower-
ed in nature's drapery, and adorn-
ed with the cultivations of taste, the
associations with such a spot can-
not be otherwise than delightful.
Here the sadness of death is in a
degree removed by the beauty
which is everywhere addressed to
the eye. Green foliage hangs over
the graves of the departed, birds
build their nests and sing among
the branches, or a beautiful stream
glides majestically by, and the
scene reminds one continually of
the mansions in the skies, as well
as of the tomb and the grave. As
the heart is opened to feelings of
heavenly comfort from the scene, you may
feel that your departed relatives are sleeping
near you, and fancy that you are hardly sepa-
rated from tlicm, that you are both contemplat-
ing spiritual things. The same breeze which
sweeps through the grass that waves on their
graves, bears on its wings no noxious miasma,
but gratefully fans and refreshes you. The bit-
terness of death is taken away, and, instead of
going to a graveyard which is destitute of
everything cheering, and which appears almost
like a charnel-house, you visit a delightful spot,
intersected with beautiful walks, where death
seems like sleep, and where you cannot help re-
alizing that though the dust has returned to the
earth, the spirit has returned to God who gave it.
OAK HILL CEMETERY, NEWBORYPORT.
The engraving below gives a fine view of the
City Hall, Newburyport. This is a beautiful
and commodious building, located in Brown
Square. It is one hundred feet long by sixty-
four feet wide, and is one of the greatest orna-
ments to the city. It contains good accommo-
dations for all city purposes. On the floor of
the basement are rooms for the mayor and
aldermen, common council, school committee,
city clerk, assessors, treasurer and collector, and
engineers, and one ward room. The hall is
spacious and elegant. Its dimensions are eighty-
seven by sixty-four feet, with two convenient
drawing-rooms, and a commodious gallery over
them. This building and the grounds connected
with it cost the sum of 532,000.
EFFECT OF TRIFLES.
Mohammed pursued by his enemies ere his
religion had gained a footing in the world, took
refuge in a cave. To this retreat his pursuers
traced him ; but when they were on the point of
entering, their attention was arrested by a little
bird darting from an adjoining thicket. Had it
not been for this trivial circumstance, which con-
vinced them that here the fugitive could not be
concealed, Mohammed would have been discov-
ered, and he and his imposture have perished to-
gether. As it was, he effected his escape, gained
the protection of his friends, and, by a most art-
ful course of conduct, succeeded in laying the
foundation of a religion which now ]>revails over
a large portion of the world, — Dr. Duncan.
THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA.
Cleopatra was the daughter of
Auletes, king of Egypt. When
dying, the prince left the crown to
the elder of the two sexes, with an
order that they should marry each
other, according to the custom of
the family. But Diony&ius the
brother of Cleopatra, desirous of
reigning alone, repudiated and
banished his sister. Cleopatra was
one of the most beautiful as well
as the best informed woman of her
time. She spoke all languages,
and was never in need of an inter-
preter. When Cicsar went to
Egypt she presented herself before
him for justice against her brother.
Smitten by her charms, he re-es-
tablished her in her possessions.
He had by her a son, named Ck-
sarion ; and he promised to convey
her (o Rome and there celebrate
his nuptials. On his arrival in
that city, he placed the statue of
Cleopatra in the temple of Venus,
beside that of the goddess. Dio-
nysius being drowned in the Nile,
Cffisar confirmed the crown upon
Cleopatra, and upon a brother of
hers about eleven years old, wh" m
the ambitions queen poisoned be-
fore he had attained his fifteenth
year. After the death of Cicsar,
she declared in favor of the Tri-
umvirate. Antony then beheld,
and was incapable of resisting the
charms of so beautiful a woman;
and the time they passed together
was marked by festivals and enter-
tainments of unparalleled magnifi-
cence. But these pleasures were
interrupted by the departure of
Antony for Rome. During the
absence of her lover, Cleopatra
consoled herself, by her studies.
She re-established the Alexandrian
library, which had been destroyed
by fire, a few years before, and
enriched it with that of Pergamus,
consisting of more than 200,000
volumes. Upon his return to Alexandria, An-
tony caused Cleopatra to be proclaimed queen
of Egypt ; but having been defeated by Octavius,
at the battle of Actium, the princess deceived her
lover, and to rescue her crown attempted to as-
sume the conquest over the conqueror. But in
this hope she was deceived, and to avoid the dis-
grace of being carried to Rome in triumph, she
applied an asp to her bosom, and died at the age
of thirty-nine, in the year 80 B. C. A small
puncture in the arm was the only mark of vio-
lence which could be detected on her body; and
it was therefore believed that she had procured
death either by the bite of this venomous reptile,
or by the scratch of a poisoned bodkin. — Ameri-
can Magazine.
VIEW OF THE CITY HALL, NEWBURYPORT.
3U
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[concluded from I'AOIC ."Jll.l
But thoiii^li su(Tt:ssfiil in gainiiij,' tliu^'ood will
of tliofic arouiul liitn, tlic yount;- doctor Imd as
yot received no r.ill in tlio wiiy oCliis profession.
In iiit't, tlicvilhigc was at that time niosl t/ishrss-
iiH/lij hcalf/ii/, and tlic few cases oC sickness wliich
occnrrcd, were anion;; tiio.se who preferred the
services of one who had ioni; been their family
physician, hut wdiose age and many intirmitics
rendered it prolaihio that he would not lonj,^
Btiind in the way of his young successor.
*' There is nothing like patience/' thought
Herbert, as day after day passed, and still no
call to exert his skill in the healing art. " This
is a favoralde opportunity to review my studies,"
and he scrupulously devoted a large portion of
each day to the attentive perusal of the many
valuable volumes which composed his library.
At length the long expected moment arrived.
A loud and hurried peal at iho bell summoned
the young doctor to the door of his ol^icc. A
carriage had been overturned on its way from
the depot to the hotel, two ladies injured, imme-
diate attendance desired. Visions of broken
limbs and fractured skulls floated through the
brain of the young practitioner, as seizing his
case of surgical instruments he hastily followed
the messenger. The ladies had already been
conveyed to the hotel, and he was at once ad-
mitted to their apartment. They appeared to
be mother and daughter. One glance at the al-
most deathly countenance of the mother, who
was reclining upon a couch, convinced him that
she was the principal sufferer, and he hastened
to make inquiries as to the nature and extent of
the injur}'- she had received.
" My daughter is your patient, doctor," she
replied, while an expression of anxious solicitude
passed over her countenance. " I am uninjured,
save from the effects of the jar and fright. Hel-
en, my love, show your arm to the doctor, at
once. There is no time to lose."
Herbert turned quickly toward the young lady
who, with a vain attempt to conceal the acute
pain which she suffered, forced a smile, as she
answered :
" You are too anxious concerning me, dear
mama. I trust the injury will prove a trifling
one ;" but even as she spoke, a certain faintncss
came over, and she would have fallen fiom her
chair, had not the strong arm of Herbert sup-
ported her.
Gently placing her upon the couch from which
her mother had risen to offer her feeble aid, he
proceeded to rip the sleeve, which the already
swollen condition of the arm prevented him from
loosening in any other way. A careful exami-
nation convinced liira that no bones were broken.
The violent pain proceeded from a bad sjirain,
which was likely to prove somewhat tedious, but
by no means dangerous.
His favorable report seemed to lift a mountain
weight from the mother's heart. Suitable rem-
edies were at once applied, which relieved the
intensity of suffering ; and with renewed strcngtli
and energy, Helen at once turned her whole at-
tention to her invalid mother, and eai'nestly im-
plored her to take some rest.
For a moment, Herbert's eye dwelt admiringly
upon the perfect symmetry of her fairy -like form
and the extreme loveliness of her countenance,
now lighted up by filial affection, and then he
also gave his attention to the pale invalid. It
was evident even to his unpi-actised eye that her
days were numbered. Death was rapidly and
surely approaching, and human skill might not
hope to stay him on his course. Something
might, however, be done for present relief. She
was then suffering from the effects of the excite-
ment occasioned by the accident, and he strongly
recommended perfect quiet for several days.
Then giving directions for a composing draught,
he took leave, promising to see them again before
many hours.
Hastily returning to his office, he closed the
door, and throwing himself into his favorite
chair, indulged in oneof those reveries delightful
at times both to young and old.
At last, then, he had met with his first patient,
wliom he had so long cherished the belief would
exert so powerful an influence over his future
fortunes. A thousand times he had pictured to
Jiimsclf [he sudden and alarming illness of some
wealthy and influential individual, who, restored
to life and health through his medical skill, would
frratefnliy endeavor to assist him in his ]»-ofcs-
sion. The nature of the vision was now chnnged.
His first patient was indeed to rule liis destiny,
hut in adifferent way from whathcliad imnglncd,
A'ready was Jier image indelibly engraven upon
his heart; and, though as yet unknown to him
even by name, that one short interview hud
0[>ened a new world of love and hope.
The hours (h-agged heavily on until the time
arrived when, as their medic.il adviser, he deem-
ed it incumbent upon him again to present him-
self at the hotel, and entering Ihe public sitting-
room, desired an attendant to inform the ladies
at No. 45, that Dr. Lansing was below.
In a few moments the polite host himself en-
tered, and to his inexpressible chagrin and dis-
appointment, informed him that the ladies had
found tiiemselves somewhat recruited after an
hour's rest, and had left in the afternoon train.
Ho had ventured, he said, to suggest to them
that it would be better to remain for a day or
two, or at least until they had again seen the
physician, but the sick lady was exceedingly
earnest to proceed on her journey, and her
daughter appeared confident that the motion of
the cars would not increase the pain of her arm.
They had left a small enclosure to be delivered
to Dr. Lansing, with their grateful regards.
Tluis saying, the friendly host handed a neat
envelope to the young physician, and with a po-
lite bow, he left the room. The address was
written in a delicate female hand, but there were
no words within. It simply contained a hand-
some fee for his services.
Determined not to relinquish the hope of
tracing the fair unknown at some future day,
Herbert sought the landlord, and requested the
names of the ladies, but here again he was baffled.
Their stay had been so short that no name had
been registered on the books.
Nothing more was to be done, and slowly he
retraced his steps to his own apartments. Tnue
and patience had been necessary before he beheld
his first patient, and time and patience seemed
likely to be in requisition ere they would again
meet. Good fortune seemed to follow in her
train, however, for scarcely was the young doc-
tor again seated in his office, when the bell with
another loud peal summoned him to the door.
One of the principal families in the village re-
quested his attendance. Ere the evening closed,
the names of four patients stood conspicuously
upon his tablets.
Months passed on, and there was no lack of
practice. Dr. Lansing was in continual demand,
and the success attending the exercise of his pro-
fessional skill had raised him high in the estima-
tion of the whole neighborhood. Old and young
regarded him with favor, as many a rosy cheek
grew still more rosy at his approach. liut though
ever polite and attentive to all, there was not
the slightest appearance of preference for any of
the fair maidens wlio stood ready candidates for
his favor.
The memory of his first patient was still viv-
idly present to his mind, and in his dreams she
seemed to stand before him with the same gentle
purity of expression which had won his heart in
that one brief interview. There seemed little
rational hope that they would ever meet again,
but the romance of youth does not often go hand
in hand with rationality, and Herbert frequently
indulged in blissful anticipations of the future in
which the fair unknown held a conspicuous part.
Summer and fall had passed away, and the
holidays were fast appi'oaching. Urgent letters
from Uncle John earnestly pressed for at least a
brief visit from his favorite nephew ; and indeed
the kind old man was continually in Herbert's
thoughts, but, although eighty miles seems a
short distance in these days, the constant de-
mands on the time of a physician had hitherto
rendered it impracticable to leave.
Now, howevci', there seemed a prospect that
he might be allowed at least a day or two of re-
creation. There were no cases requiring very
close attention, and the old doctor was in better
health than usual, and kindly offered to do his
best to supply Dr. Lansing's place.
A pleasant ride of sixty miles in the cars, and
twenty miles of rough jolting in a stage coach
brought him within a short distance of his old
home, and just at dusk, one clear evening, he
suddenly stood before Uncle Jolm, who, seated
in his arm chair before a blazing fire, was in-
dulging as was his wont in a short nap.
But the arm chair was speedily vacated, and
all drowsiness vanished, as he clasped his nephew
in his arms, and mingled wordsof welcome with
a hearty embrace.
"It makes mc feel young again to sec you
once more, my dear boy," he exclaimed. " My
heart has yearned to look upon your face, but I
knew that duty kept you at your post, and your
letters have done much (o comfort me during
your al)sencc. You are an excellent correspond-
ent. I could almost imagine myself talking
with you sometimes."
'* I am glad that they were a soun-e of plea';ure
to you, my ilear uncle. 1 have feared that the
daily life of a physician might be uninteresting,
as you were uimcquainted willi the patients oi"
whom I frequently gave you accounts."
"Not at all, Herbert, not at all ; but pray tell
mc why you would never answer my inquiries
as to your first patient? What became of your
presentiment ? Who did the important individ-
ual prove to be?"
In as unconcerned a tone as possible, Herbert
replied :
" Only some travellers. Uncle John, who met
with a slight accident on their way from the de-
pot to the hotel. I made them but one call."
Then wishing to divert his uncle's attention, he
suddenly exclaimed, "But, uncle, do explain
to me the cause of the wonderful change which
has taken place in this apartment. When I last
saw it, if you will excuse the expression, it was
a regular old bachelor's parlor, vastly comfort-
able, to be sure, but with a somewhat stiff", unso-
ciable air. Now all is different. Vases of flow-
ers in the windows, a lady's work-table in one
corner, books of poetry, half finished drawings,
the old fashioned furniture disposed with such
wonderful taste ; in short, a complete metamor-
phosis, of which I am exceeding curious to know
the cause. What fair friend manifests so great
an interest in your domestic concerns 1 Surely
our respectable housekeeper, Mrs. Trueraan,has
not undergone such a remarkable transformation
during m}' absence."
" Mrs. Trucman has little to do with the ar-
rangements of this apartment," replied Uncle
John, with a smile, which was mingled, how-
ever, with a shade of sadness. A change has
taken place in my establishment, which for cer-
tain reasons I have not communicated to you by
letter, preferring to wait until we could sit down
once more and have a fine chat. Y'ou doubtless
recollect the history of my early days, and will
be interested to hear that I have once more be-
held my beloved Grace. Several weeks after
you left me, I received a brief note without sig-
nature, begging me to go at once to a designated
place, wliere I should find a sick friend who had
much to say to me. I immediately obeyed the
summons, and found myself at a neat hoarding-
house, in an obscure part of the city. The num-
ber of the room occupied by my correspondent
had been mentioned in the note, and at my re-
quest I was conducted thither without hesitation.
The attendant who preceded me, remarked in a
compassionate tone that she feared the poor lady
had not many days to live. Much perplexed to
imagine what female friend could desire to see
me on her death-bed, I tapped at the door, whifli
was instantly opened by a young girl so exactly
the counterfeit of my Grace in her early days,
that I forgot the lapse of years, and almost be-
lieved that she again stood before me.
" Hecovering my self-possession with a strong
effort, I gave my name, and mentioned that I
had received a note requesting my presence.
Ere the young lady could reply, a feeble voice
was heard from the bed at the opposite side of
the room :
" 'Has he come, my child ? 0 bid him not
delay, for I shall soon be gone.'
" At a signal from the daughter, I stepped for-
ward, and in another instant stood by the side
of the dying woman.
" It was difhcult to recognize in that wasted
form and countenance marked by long years of
suffering, the once lovely and blooming Grace;
but gazing earnestly in my face, she feebly ex-
tended her hand, saying in a voice of deep emo-
tion :
" * Have you indeed forgotten the sister of
your youth ? Has the name of Grace Maynell
passed from your memory V
"Overpowered by this unexpected meeting,
and by the crowd of recollections which rushed
to my mind, I sunk on my knees by her bed-
side, unable to speak, but still pressing her hand
in both my own.
" ' I see that I am remembered,' she continued,
' and now I must speak quickly, for my time is
short. Some months ago I became a widow.
My own health was rapidly declining, and I felt
that my only remaining caitbly treasure must
soon be left fi-icndlcss and alone in the wide
world. My heart turned to the home of my
youth. Tbcy who had been to mc as parents,
were indeed gone, but you were still living, my
more than brother, and would. I doubted not,
protect my orphan child. As soon as possible I
coMecled the small remnant wiiich remained of
the property of my misguided husband, and with
an earnest pi'ayer tliat my life migtit he pro-
longed to the end of my journey, I set forth.
After repeated delays, occasioned by my feeble
ttatc and some otlier causes, we arrived here last
evening, and I lost no time in sending you the
summons which you have so promptly obeyed.
And now, John Fairfield, by tlie love you once
bore mc, and by the remembrance of our early
days, I implore you to become a father to my
child.'
" Quite exhausted by the effort she had made,
the poor invalid sunk back upon her pillow,
while I solemnly vowed to fulfil the trustrc])osed
in me, and to cherish her daughter to the latest
hour of my life.
"'It is cnougJi,* she exclaimed. ' I die, in
peace. My work on earth is finished. Heavenly
Pather, receive my spirit I' and with her eyes
fixed with a look of love upon the wecj)ing girl
who bent over her, without a struggle slie sunk
to rest,
" I will pass over the daughter's grief, and
my own excitement and sorrow," contiiuied Un-
cle John. " In a few brief days I took my young
charge to her new home. Her love for her
mother is deep and abiding, and her somewhat
sudden dep.arture — for though long ill, her death
came at last unlooked for — was for a time over-
whelming ; but she had been early taught to
look upward for consolation, and by degrees her
cheerfulness has returned, and she is now the
delight of my once solitary home. In truth,
Herbert, I have become another being under her
gentle influence, and while still fondly cherish-
ing the memory of my loved and unfortunate
Grace, I cannot be too thankful for the blessing
which has been granted me in her sweet child."
"And where is she now, my dear uncle?"
asked the young man, who had listened with the
deepest interest and sympathy to the touching
recital. " I am impatient to be introduced to
one who will seem to me as a sister, as we are
alike blessed with your fatherly care."
" She left mc an hour or two since to attend
to some engagements in her own room. I must
go and tell her of your arrival ; but hark ! there
she comes. I can tell the sound of her fairy
footsteps among a thousand.
"Helen, my darling," continued the old gen-
tleman, rising from his chair, as the yoimg lady
entered, "allow mc to introduce you to my
nephew. Dr. Hcrbcit Lansing, permit rac to
make you acquainted with Miss Helen Atherton,
yo\w first patknt , if I mistake not."
The astonishment and delight of Herbert as
the object of his waking reveries and midnight
dreams thus unexpectedly stood before him,
fully repaid Uncle John for the vexation which
his nephew's want of confidence had occasioned
him.
" You see, my boy, that your old uncle can
have his secrets as well as yourself," he whis-
pered, as Helen, blushing with pleasure at again
meeting one who had been well remembered,
and at the same time affected by the recollections
which his presence recalled, gracefully acknow-
ledged the young man's somewhat confused salu-
tation, and passed on to the tea-table, which
awaited her presence.
A few moments seemed to relieve Herbert's
embarrassment, and with a heart beating high
witli hope and joy, he obeyed Helen's dieerful
summons to the evening meal.
All reserve was soon at an end between them,
and they conversed with the freedom of those
who have been long and intimately acquainted.
Uncle John gazed upon the youthful pair with
delight, and when the hour for retiring to rest
arrived, and he found himself in the solitude of
his own apartment, his grateful heart was raised
in thankfulness to bis Heavenly Father, who had
bestowed upon him such blessings to solace his
declining years.
The time fixed for Herbert's departure arrived
but too quickly, hut the sadness of the farewell
was mingled with joy, for he already felt a full
confidence that Helen knew and returned the
devoted affection with which he regarded her,
and a bright, unclouded future seemed before
him.
Ere another year had passed away, the young
doctor had exchanged his country prnclice for a
favorable situation in the city, and, with the full
consent and blessing of Uncle John, had claimed
his first patient as his bride.
Tf tliou dost ill, tliejoy ffidea, not; tlio piiinF ;
If ^vcll, thu pain doth fiidc,— the joy remaine.
G. Htrbert.
GLEASOX'S I^ICTOMAL DUAWING PvOOlSI COMPATs^IOlS".
315
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AUTUMNAL MUSINGS.
BT JOSEPH W. KYE.
See autumn's glories on tbe forests ■wide,
What gtiVgeous tints of beauty meet the view ;
More pleasing far than iiU the blooming pride
That cheered the eye the summer hours through 1
The morning brightness of the budding spring,
The noontide glowing of the summer fair,
Have their rich ehanns, but ne'er to me can bring
The pleasures which, calm autumn, thou dost bear !
Thou hast a power to cheer my weary heart,
Amid ihe tumult of this changing life ;
To soothe my spirit, bid my griefs depart,
And make me strong amid its ceaseless strife.
Ah, well [ love thy calm and pensive hours;
Ah, well I love to roam the forest aisles,
■\Miere leaves are falling in rich golden showers,
M'bere bliss untold each passing hour beguiles.
There, plaintive voices on my ppirit's ear,
Fall in sweet tones, with soothing, magic sway ;
Telling of death— that all is fleeting here,
That all of earth must surely pass away.
Spring will reclothe again this fading scene.
The birds will come, their songs to chant anew;
So waits for man an endless spring, whose sheen
Celestial, glo\7S with beauty ever new 1
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. X.
BY DK. JEROME V. C. SMITH.
GOING INTO THE AEMOKY.
"Within the seraglio enclosure, not far from
the mint, is a building of pretty ample dimen-
sions, exclusively devoted to the protectioa and
preservation of ai-ms. Not so much those in
every day service, as memorials of the past. Like
the spears, swords, daggers, battle-axes and rude
guns in the Tower of London, a display is made
of the various forms of arms that have been in
use in different reigns, since the Turks have
been established in Europe.
On entering the front door, the form of the
interior resembles an ordinary New England
meeting-house, with galleries on cither side.
All the antiques imaginable are brought togeth-
er in fantastic figures. Stars and crescents
abound ; and it was an ingenious fellow who put
horse pistols and Damascus blades into such
varied and curious curves and angles.
Of course it would be tedious to particularize
the proud instruments of death that may have
cut a million of throats. Marvellous stories are
related of the achievements of some of the
bloody old Sultans in thinning the ranks of the
Christians.
All their most brilliant engagements and sur- "
prising victories have been over the hated disci-
ples of the Saviour, Overhead, suspended, at-
tached to the poles by which they were borne at
the head of advancing columns, are dozens of
flags taken from various European and other
nations with whom they have been at war.
The Turks have really something to be proud
of, when they contemplate those evidences of
their former prowess. But they will never be
replaced by fresher banners; their ranks are no
longer invincible, and the glory of Mohammedan
greatness is rapidly passing away.
Ascending the gallery, we entered a small
apartment at the further end, protected by doors,
locks, and a special janitor, that bespoke the
preciousness of the treasury that was kept within.
It was equivalent to the crown jewel office of
England, Scotland, Austria, and some other
continental countries, in which the public is per-
mitted to enter under certain specific restrictions.
There was a kind of show case on one side of
the room, elevated to a convenient height for
looking in, that contained a row of large keys.
They were fac-similes — some in gold, and others
in silver — of the keys of cities taken by the
Turks in their various wars.
Their workmanship was beautiful, and their
intrinsic value, as bullion, very great indeed; but
tlie associations connected with their history to
the Turks, far more valuable. They are con-
templated with pride and ambition by them, and
if such a sentiment as loyalty exists in the bosom
of one of them, they are among the proudest
keepsakes in the national archives.
Suspended above the case, by hooks on the
wall, is a row of swords of the richest descrip-
tion. There were Damascus blades, wiih golden
mountings, and jewelled in the most lavish man-
ner. The series represent most of ihe Sultans
from the successor of Mahommed IL, who was
proclaimed in 1451, and finally caj^tured and
took possession of Constantinople, May 29, 1480.
When a sultan is inaugurated, and the heralds
announce to the world that the tlirone is again
occupied by a descendant of the author of their
faith, a sword is buckled on his thigh, and he
passes in state through the capital, to be seen
and to receive homage.
When the ceremony is concluded, the sword
is placed in the jewel office, ever after to remain
a memorial of the event, and of the individual
who wore it.
Besides these extraordinarics, there are multi-
tudes of objects, both new, strange and rare,
which could no where else be seen, that belong
to the history of the empire, but 1 have forgotten
what they all were.
An indistinct impression is on my mind that
some memorial of Mahommed was shown us in
that most glorious part of the armory. The
covering of his tomb, whicli is renewed annually
— the old one being returned when the new one
is put on — may be examined at a respectful dis-
tance in a mosque.
In all our examinations under the authority of
protection of the firman from the department of
state, we were accompanied by several officials,
one of whom was a grave young man who car-
ried a mighty big staff with a silver head, the
size of an orange. On arriving at a point em-
braced in the permit, the man with the staff
merely passed a word with the outer custode,
and the doors were opened at once.
The public officers understand the natural cu-
riosity of Frank travellers to pry into their af-
fairs, and profit by it to some purpose. No
doubt, every farthing of the forty dollars exacted
for the document by which access was given to
the various interesting localities and places de-
tailed thus far, went into the pocket of the Def-
tcrdav, although the idea was held out that the
whole sura would be distributed pro rata among
the mosques that were troubled by our presence.
Whatever is excellent in Turkey, is to be
found in Constantinople. Institutions of all de-
scriptions have been matured there, if anywhere,
and being under the immediate eye of the gov-
ernment, are to be considered as developed and
perfect as they can be under the auspices of
Mahommedanism.
In the sense which we attach to science, there
is none among the people. A learned man is
one who can repeat by heart more of the Koran
than somebody else ; hut in the exact or specu-
lative sciences, there is nothing that can be con-
templated by a trained mind, as worthy of con-
sideration. There are some mathematicians,
but those who are distinguished are Arabs. I
made an agreeable acquaintance in Damascus
with Hakem Makarkav, who has a reputation
for being a celebrated mathematician. His fam-
ily for a hundred years have been remarkable
for their cultivation of that branch of knowledge.
But he is an Arab and not a Turk.
Tlie Tm'ks have been fighters instead of schol-
ars. Medicine and surgery have been thought
worthy of the sustaining influence of the lastfew
Sultans. Not for the sake of the diffusive good
that would result to the people from introducing
skilful practitioners, so much as from a selfish
policy of curing sick and disabled soldiers, and
curing themselves against the contingencies of
ill health. Armies must have surgeons, and
economy suggested the manufacture of them at
home, rather than to rely upon foreign countries
for them.
A medical college took its rise out of this idea,
but it never has been, nor is it even probable
that native professors will ever have the control
of it. Germans, French and Italians are placed
in chargeof it, and the students, instead of being
voluntary applicants for education, are caught
wherever they are found, of suitable age, and
subsequently moulded to the institution. Mere
boys are placed under a system of primary in-
struction, preparatory to a medical course. After
learning to read and write, they are ushered into
the anatomical theatre. Each one is clothed,
fed, and paid a small monthly stipend while they
remain — which means till they enter the army
or naval service.
The first college, located at Pera, was burned
do-wn, as everything else is in Constantinople. A
new and tremendously large edifice is now being
finished on a commanding elevation, in which
the preparatory school, and each and every
branch is to be taught.
An ambition for an university has resulted in
the construction of buildings ; but who are to be
the teachers, or what is to be taught, is still an
inquiry. There is not a high school or an acad-
emy in Turkey, nor is any language taught be-
yond their own.
Without philosophers, philologists, linguists,
mathematicians, astronomers, professors of liter-
ature or science, it will be a comical concern.
If it ever goes into operation, the faculty must
be imported, and the scholars also. It is quite
prol)able that it will soon fall into the keeping
of Koran readers, and those ecclesiastical digni-
taries who direct the services of religion, and
guard the faith from infidel sources. They are
the Pethva Eminy, Arzuhaldjcc, Maktoobjee and
Ders Vekihy. As the sentiment is universal
among them that all knowledge worth having is
contained in their inspired volume, what is not
there, is not worth possessing. Consequently,
no advances can be anticipated under the weight
of that opinion.
Astrologers are maintained, and their calling
highly respected. Two are especially kept in
the Sultan's service, with the rank of Oolema.
Where astrology is held in estimation, and tbe
affairs of government are transacted with refer-
ence to lucky days, there must be ignorance,
which, at this late period in the history of the
world, is the more extraordinary, because the
light of science is shining brilliantly in every
country but those in which Mahommedanism is
in the ascendant.
Medical skill is held in estimation in Turkey,
without reflecting upon the manner it is acquired
Mahmoud II, swayed by European minds, made
tremendous efforts towards rearing surgeons
among his own subjects. As in Egypt, those
that have been placed under circumstances to
exert themselves, and rise to distinction, have in
no instance succeeded.
In 1827, the medical school of Galata Serai
was opened in a building erected by Achmet III,
for training and securing the royal pages. It
was a hobby with the Sultan while he lived.
With his own hand he wrote an inscription thus :
"All who look upon this edifice will exclaim —
Well done!'" With a board of German and
French professors, it progressed as favorably as
any new thing could, where it conflicted with
the long cherished prejudices of the leading
minds among the people.
When I was in Constantinople, as already
observed, the college was in ruins, and a new
one going np. But although the lectures were
delivei-ed near the arsenal, its reputation is not
so high as it was under the patronage of Mah-
moud.
Subjects for dissection were first procured
through tlic determined agency of Mahmoud,
who probably gave orders to Hekira Bashy and
Tahir Pashi, who had command of tlie fleet.
" Thou shalt not open a dead body, although it
may have swallowed the most precious pearl
belonging- to another," was the positive injunc-
tion of the prophet, w^hich was enough to forever
prevent the study of anatomy. But even the
authority of Mahommed was set aside, as it was
in respect to wine, which Mahmoud drank till it
killed him, leaving a large collection of the best
of wines and spirits in his cellar, at his death.
Seven medical gentlemen are attached to the
present Sultan's household, one of whom invari-
ably lodges at the palace every night, whether
their services are required or not. They are
from France, England and Germany. It was
the wife of his English physician, who took np
her residence in the harem of a distinguished
Turk, leaving several children at a tender age.
Her subsequent history terminated tragically,
for she was privy to the murder of an old slave,
and it was unknown what had become of her
when I made inquiries. Opposed as the Sultan
is known to be to capital punishment, it was
conjectured that she had probably been lowered
into the Bosphorus in a red bag.
Wherever I travelled, medical advice and
opinions were sought with avidity, but no one
offered to pay for it.
Legal science is represented to be assuming a
respectable position. All laws have their origin
in the will of the Sultan, regulated by the divine
directions of the Koran. Commentaries have
begun to accumulate, and reference is had to
former decisions, and thus tbe value of prece-
dents is really beginning to be appreciated.
Several digests of the laws and the practice of
the tribunals have been written, which arc sought
for with confidence.
Of course these are principally confined to the
capital. With half a dozen presses operated by
the government, books have not been multiplied
by them. So few can read, that no remunera-
tion could be expected from the issue of an edi-
tion of such works as commentaries on laws.
The Koran is destined to be executed by a pen
till the idea that it is profane to squeeze the sa-
cred sentence in a press, like a tortured criminal,
is overcome by a higher civilization.
Books have not been multiplied for the mil-
lion, nor would it be worth while to have them,
till educational processes have been commenced
where there is a lamentable necessity for them.
Those who can read, are mostly interested in
the Koran. It is questionable whether tliere
would or could be any demand for the best
treaties extant, were they put into the Turkish
language, till the national spirit is changed.
Females in the highest circles — that is, in no
circle at all, but confined to the apartments of a
great man — rarely know how to read ; yet there
are slaves who can, and it is one of their employ-
ments to amuse their fair mistresses by reading
to them anything they can procure that ministers
to their amusement.
The Turkish newspapers can only be under-
stood or appreciated by a comparatively few
persons. Extracts from foreign papers are in-
troduced, and a variety is presented in the topics,
hut there is no mind there to grasp ideas. Indo-
lence, bigotry, hatred of Christians, and a hearty
contempt of all the rest of the world, stand
amazingly in the way of intellectual advance-
ment. Turks eat, drink, smoke and sleep —
whether they dream is uncertain. Resting in
the opinion that all the world is in tbe darkness
of infidelity — Mahommedanism alone being
blessed with the special favor of Heaven, through
the powerful agency of the prophet — there is no
hope for their conversion to Christianity.
Persian literature is prized above all other,
and especially the poetry. There may have
been a few Turkish poets, but my knowledge is
too limited to speak decisively on that point.
Several Turkish females have manifested con-
siderable talent in that direction, according to
popular report, whose names will be found in
another part of these sketches.
I apprehend, however, tliat their manner of
life is such, that striking figures, hold concep-
tions, and above all, classical allusions, are never
expressed in their poems. An active imagina-
tion, directed by the finished productions of a
Persian poet, may have accomplished enough to
pass among those of no literary cultivation, for
a phenomenon.
Several works on history are extant, by Turk-
ish authors. It is the only line of writing in
which they have achieved a respectable standing.
A simple narration of transactions is not a diffi-
cult undertaking, but it is after all the one which
commands the meed of praise. The historian is
either a chronicler of events, or a philosophical
commentator on the phases of a nation, from
one epoch to another; and our knowledge of
man in different ages, is through those relations.
There are six printing, besides two or three lith-
ographic, presses in the service of some of the
government departments ; but they are badly
managed, chiefly in the multiplication of blanks
for public offices.
Books are to be had in the market stalls, but
generally at a very dear rate. Tiiey are princi-
pally purchased as curiosities, being executed
with a pen. Perhaps in all the stalls, there may
be 70,000 volumes on sale — usually \ery thin —
and the majority of them are Persian, Arafnc and
Armenian. The proportion in Turkish is small.
A disinclination to sell Korans to foreigners is
a matter of conscience. Magnificent copies, of
all sizes and styles of caligraphy, of that sacred
volume, and the richest specimens, too, in the
world, maybe seen on the stools near the bodies
of the defunct Sultans, in the mausolca of Con-
stantinople.
On the whole, aided by. the enthusiasm of a
few English and French travellers, who have
represented the march of Turkish literature lo
be far supciior to what a sober investigation
finds it 10 be, the Turkish mind is wofully dark.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
MODESTY.
BY MRS R. T. ELUhEDGE.
Brightest, fairest gem on eiirth,
Priceless is thy sterling ivorth :
Wfiy I wear tbec next my heai't,
Never, never thence depart ;
Ever be uiy constjint guide,
Woman's shield and woman's pride I
Lovely, beauteous htt^e gem,
Brighter than a diadem ;
Never hcedirg flutterj 's power,
Safeguard iu temptation's hour ;
Ever be my contrtaut guide,
AV Oman's shield and -n-ouian's pride !
316
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
DAMKL WEBSTER.
The cngrnvin;^ which we herewith give is a
beautiful cniblematif design of a monument to
the memory of this liminent Htatesman and pat-
riot, and represents his country weeping her Ioks,
and Liberty laying a erown at his feet. The
design, by our artist, Mr. Kowse, is a fine one.
In our last we gave a brief synopsis of his public
life ; and in this connection wc gather up a few
additional facts and thoughts, mainly from an
article in the Boston Journal of the 25th ult., as
illustrative of his character. Daniel Webster
was the descendant of a Scottish ancestry, who
came to this country more than two centuries
since and located in Massa-
chusetts. Tlicy possessed in
a marked degree the distin-
guishing attributes of thecarly
Kew England settlers. The
father of Daniel Webster, in
tlie early part of his life, had
seen much military service on
the frontiers. He enrolled
himself at the age of eighteen,
in what was called Kogers's
corps of Rangers, which was
organized for the purpose of
protecting the inhabitants of
New England against the In-
dians. They were an active,
hardy and fearless band of
men, who shrank from no
danger, and dreaded no fa-
tigue. Often in the dead of
winter, when the snow lay
deep upon the ground, and
the icy blasts of our bleak cli-
mate whirled along the fleecy
drift, covering up and blotting
out all traces either of friend
or foe, would these brave ran-
gers, provided with skates
and snow-shoes, penetrate the
wilderness, even to the Cana-
dian frontier. They generally
fixed their head-quarters on
the borders of Lake George,
whence they made many and
terrible forays into the enemy's
territories. Stark, Putnam,
and many other men who af-
terwards became distinguished
in revolutionary history, were
trained in this school. Eben-
ezer Webster served in this
corps from 1755 to the cap-
ture of Quebec in 1759. After
the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle,
in 1763, he, with several other
men, pushed into the wilder-
ness and settled in the town
of Salisbury, in Merrimac
county, New Hampshire, at
that time on the outmost verge
of civilization. Daniel, one
of the five children of Eben-
ezer Webster, was bom in that
part of Salisbury, N.H., which
is now known as Franklin,
on the 18th of January, 1782.
In early life his literary ad-
vantages were very limited —
but, like his brother Ezekiel,
who died suddenly some years
ago, while pleading an impor-
tant case in court — a man
also of a powerful mind, and
great natural eloquence — he
was early noted for his activity
of mind and aptitude to learn ;
but he did not especially give
indications of that transcend-
ent intellect, which, in its full
and noble subsequent devel-
opment, was destined to exert
so powerful an influence upon
the fortunes of his country.
After passing some time at
the public school — and public
schools at that time were not
of a high grade — his father
was reluctantly persuaded by
Rev. Samuel Wood, of Bos-
eawen, to allow him to enter
on a course of studies, pre-
paratory to entering college.
He was accordingly sent for
a time to Phillips (Exeter)
Academy, under the tuition
of that celebrated instructor
of youth, Benjamin Abbot,
LL. D. He subsequcMtly com-
pleted his preparatory course
of studies under the direction
of Rev. Dr. Wood, and en-
tered Dartmouth College, in
which institution he remained
four years, graduating in 1801.
After leaving college, Daniel
Webster engaged for a time
in the bu'^iness of teaching school in the beautiful
village of Fryeburg, Me. The site of the build-
ing still remains, dignified by the name of Acad-
emy, where Daniel Webster, fifty years ago,
labored zealously and faithfully in the honorable
vocation of a teacher of youth. He soon, how-
ever, returned to bis native town, and entered
on the study of the law. From the year 1805,
onward, through a period of nearly half a cen-
tury, be has been identified with political life,
ascending higher and higher the mount of fame
and honor, until he had attained the pinnacle,
the acknowledged pre-eminent mind of tiie age.
But without alluding again to those prominent
occjisions and scenes which brought him so con-
spicuously before the world's eye, we would
adoptthe words of our contemporary, in this con-
nection, and say — His history, or at least the
prominent features of it, arc familiar to every
intelligent American as household words ; and
his fume and character are understood and ad-
mired by men of wisdom and learning abroad as
well as at home. He was decidedly tlie intellec-
tual giant of the age. No man of modern times,
except Napoleon, can be compared witli him in
intellectual greatness, but the tide of their two
lives ran in such diverse channels, that it is im-
possible to draw a parallel. Each equalled all
other men in his own sphere, and undoubtedly
would have excelled in the other, if the Fates
had changed their places ; but Mr. Webster's is
and sedate in pu))lie life, possessed a warm and
poetical imagiuaiion, and was ever an admirer
of the beautiful in nature and art. His mind
was thoroughly cultivated and disciplined. Fa-
miliar with the Latin classics as almost any man
of his day, he also gave his attention to the belles
lettres wi'itcrs of modern times, and there were
few English authors of celebrity and power with
whose works be was not conversant. While the
richest gems of the ancient classics are often
found in Mr. Webster's speeches or addresses
on occasions of great public interest, in his plead-
ings at the bar he frequently introduced with
powerful effect, illustrations taken from the light
MONUMENTAL DESIGN TO THE MEMORY OF HON. DANIEL "WEBSTER.
the higher and nobler of the two. Minerva
crowned them both ; but in the wreath which her
fingers twined for Webster's brow, tlie leaves of
her favorite olive tree are mingled with the bay.
Any man who looked upon Daniel Webster,
would be irresistibly impressed with a conviction
of his majesty of soul ; for never was a mortal
face and form so much in harmony with the mind
within. His brow had an awful sublimity about
it, even in sunshine, which would cause most
men to shrink from encountering it in storm.
It has often been remarked of Mr. Webster, that
he was equal to any emergency, however great —
and when the deep passions, which on ordinary
occasions slumbered within him, were moved,
the effect of bis eloquence was iri-esistibly terri-
ble. Mr. Webster, although habitually grave
literature of the day. We had the good fortune
to be present at a case of this kind which pro-
duced a powerful sensation. At the lime — more
than five-and-twenty years ago — when Sir Wal-
ter Scott's novel of the Pirate first reached this
country, an important cause was pending in the
Municipal Courtof this city before Judge Quincy.
It was the case of the Commonwealth versus
Samuel Upton. The cause was managed by
James T. Austin on the part of the State, and
by Daniel Webster and other eminent counsel
on the part of the defendant. Mr. Webster, in
the course of Iiis ibrcible argument, introduced
the interesting description by the novelist of the
fierce attack upon that noble animal, the wh.ale,
in one of the voes of Orkney, by the combined
forces of all the men, women, and children in
the district. In his peculiarly vigorous language,
Mr. Webster likened this to the fierce onslaught
made on the character and conduct of his perse-
cuted and injured client, and expressed a confi-
dent belief lliat the result of tlie conllict would
be the same; and that the defendant, rising in
his might, would shake off the darts which had
been hurled against bim, and yet escape almost
unscathed from the malign attack of his cnemiis.
Mr. Webster's published speeches will be re-
garded by posterity as models of eloquence and
power, combining all the elements of beauty
with those of majesty and strength. His sen-
tences are perfect in themselves, and move along
with the quietness of a revolv-
ing sphere, but equally with
its resistless power. A man
might as well expect to stand
against the weight of a de-
scending avalanche as to re-
sist the moral force of his ar-
guments. His speeches are
the lesson of the elocutionist,
the model of emulation for
the student, the pattern of
perfection in oratory, and the
admiration of mankind. His
state papers and diplomatic
correspondence are replete
with wisdom and legal learn-
ing, and will be referred to
and quoted as authority, on
questions of state policy and
international law, throughout
the world. The letter to
Chevalier Hulseman, Austrian
Charge d'Afthirs, for instance,
is one of the most masterly
productions of the kind ever
written. His expositions of
impressment and the right of
search, entitle him to the
hearty thanks of our seamen,
and are treasures in the hands
of an American statesman.
Nothing lightor frivolous ever
fell from Mr. AVebster's lips or
flowed from his pen ; his ma-
jestic periods move in a stately
and solemn grandeur, which
is an index of the greatness of
his mind ; and not a sentence
can be found in any of his
public speeches or writings,
which is contrary to the strict-
est moral purity, or which
would wound the keenest re-
ligious sensibility. Indeed,
an ethical and religious spirit
pervades all his productions,
which is in strict harmony
with the character of a Chris-
tian philosopher and states-
man. His mind was large
and liberal ; and eschewing
sectional prejudices he labored
for the good of the whole
country, and was an American
in thought, word and deed.
He never greatly prized the
breath of popular applause ;
and many times, in carrying
out what he deemed to be the
true course of policy, ran
counter to the wishes of some
of his friends and warmest
supporters. He never "gave
up for party what was meant
for mankind." He did what
his reason and his conscience
told him was right, let the
world say what it would ; and
strong in the rectitude of his
intentions, he felt that al-
though slander and party ma-
lignity might assail him while
living, they would be power-
less to blacken bis posthumous
fame. In all his public life
Mr. Webster habitually ab-
stained from the use of the
poisoned weapons of personal
invective or party odium. No
one could more studiously
abstain from all attempts to
make a political opponent
hateful. With Mr. Calhoun,
who for a considerable portion
of the time was his chief an-
tagonist, he ever maintained
most friendly relations. Mr.
Calhoun, in his turn, also en-
tertained a just estimate of
his great op])onent's worth.
Such was Daniel Webster !
While it has ever been a re-
proach upon the people of
Athens that the wise and the
good Aristides was banished
from a country which he had
so long and so faithfully served, so mankind for
ages to come, will wonder why this great Ameri-
can statesman and patriot, whose devotion to
his country knew no bounds, and whose services
were the public acts of his whole life, was not
raised by acclamation to the highest ofiice in the
gift of a free people ! Daniel AVcbster's life has
passed away like a tale that is told ; but his
memory and his works remain, a rich legacy to
posterity. He filled up the sum of three score
years and ten which are allotted to man, with
honor to himself and distinction to bis country ;
and hns gone at length to his rest, peaceful and
serene as the fuU-orbed sun, shedding a halo of
glory over the world he leaves behind, long after
his declining beams are quenched in the bosom
of riic western sea.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION,
317
ly^-^Op ^^'-^
FREDERICK GLEASON, PnorRiETOR.
MATURIN M. EALLOTJ, Editor.
CONTEiVTS OF OUR NEXT 1VU3IKER.
*' Boarding vs. Housekeeping, or Xothing like having a
Home." a story, by Mrs. M. E. Kobinson.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. XI, relatiDg to the
Institutions of Religion, by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
"Autographs and Autography," No. Xtl, by vVilliam
Edward Enowles, giving the signatures of J. K.Mitchell,
Pliny Earle, SyWanus Cobb, Jr., Laura Bridgman, Dr. 3.
G. Howe, Mrs. Caroline Orne, Vv. Gibnore Sinimes, and J.
Fennimore Cooper.
"Travels in Palestine,'^ No. XIII, relating to the Be-
douins, by Rev. F. W. Holland.
•' Daniel Webster at Home," a timely and interesting
sTcetch of the celebrated statesman, by Maj. BE^: fERLEV
POORE.
•' I still live," a touching poem, from these last words
of Daniel M'ebster, by Mrs Sigourket.
" The Maid of Alder "Valley, "a beautiful poem, by Alice
Carey.
"November." lines, by J. Starr Hollowat.
" L*:onore," lines, by E. Curtiss Hike, U. S. N.
" Autumn," lines, by J. Hunt, Jr.
" Thoughts on hearing St. John's Bell at a distance," in
Ter^e, by Dr. Frederick Houck.
" The Emigrant's Tomb," lines, by William T. Hilsee.
" Lines to the late Daniel Webster," by J. Alford.
*' Why should Spirits talk with Men ?'- a poem, by Miss
MaetN. Dearborn.
" The Angel Ladder," lines, by Wm. Edward Knowles.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
TVe shall pre.=ent a capital sketch, by our artis-t, Mr-
Bvrnham^ representing the Old Warren House, Roxbury,
as it was. The birthplace of General Warren,
A large and finely executed picture, being a copy of the
famous painting, entitled the Prophecy of the Flowers.
Also a large and spirited engraving from one of M.
Tidal's paintings, entitled Curiosity.
TVe shall pre.«ent to our readers a most interesting and
timely series of pictures, drawn for us by our artist, Mr.
ManniTig, illustrating the melancholy ceremonies over the
remains of the late Daniel Webster, at Marshfield.
First, an engraving representing the Funeral Procession,
as it occurred at Marshfield
Second, a fac-simile of the Metallic Burial Case, in which
all that remains of the great statesuian reposes.
Third, a picture of the Webster Family Tomb, situated
at Marshfield.
Fourth, a view of Mr. Webster's body as it lay in state
in bis library, before being removed to the tomb.
Fifth, an admirable picture, representing Mr "Webster
as he appeared a few days before his death, on his farm.
Altogether forming a deeply interesting group of scenes,
of a most truthful and admirable character.
A very peculiar eastern picture, representing the Whirl-
ing De^vi^hes, as described by our contributor. Dr. J. V.
C. Smith, in his sketches entitled Turkey and the Turks,
now publishing in the Pictorial.
A fine horticultural piece, representing the late Exhibi-
tion of the Horticultural Society, at Montreal.
A view of the Old South Church, Newburyport, drawn
on the spot, by our artist, Mr. Kiibum.
Also a fine view of the Whitofield Monument in the Old
South Church, by the same artist.
MARION'S BRIGADE:
OE —
THE LIGHT DRAGOONS.
A Romance of the Revolution.
BY DR. J. H. ROBINSON.
"We commence this week in the Flag of our
Union, a storj thus entitled. The tale is one
of exceeding great interest, the writer having
blended the exciting historical facts of the period
with the plot of his storj. It is well written, is
graphic, entertaining, and the interest never flags
from the first to the last chapter. Its readers
will agree with us in pronouncing it to be one
of the best this popular writer has yet produced.
SPLINTERS.
Mr. Seguin is one of the regular stock
company at Wallack's Theatre, New York.
.... It is queer but true that the citizens of
Savannah gettheir winter's meat from New York.
.... The Alleghanians, vocalists, have done a
famous business, we learn, in California.
"We are indebted to the Home Journal
for a very complimentary and kind notice.
It is said tbat there are nine hundred au-
thors and composers in the city of Paris.
Daniel Webster's fee, in the late India
rubber case, was ten thousand dollars, cash.
Mrs. Mowatt is under an engagement at
the Broadway Theatre, during this month.
Jenny Lind has settled down and gone
to house- keeping at Dresden, in Saxony
.... Macaulay, the historian, is represented
to be in a dying condition by the English papers,
The last dying words of Webster : " I
still live !" will bear many interpretations.
APPETITE.
We last week had something to say upon this
subject, and have still a few more words to add
relative to the matter. Some sturdy reformers,
with the ultraism that distinguishes all reforms
in this country, have attempted to remedy the
propensity for gormandizing, that is so univer-
sally prevalent, by insisting upon a purely vege-
table diet. The late Dr. Graham made, at one
time, a great stir, and many proselytes by his
anti-animal-food theories. The Grahamites had
distinguished precedents to refer to. Tlie an-
cient Gymnosophists thrived so well on a purely
vegetable diet, and obtained such an extraordi-
nary longevity, that some of them committed
suicide to put an end to lives so wearily pro-
longed ! The Brahmins of Hindostan, who nev-
er touch animal food, are "modem instances"
of the possibility of living very comfortably on
the Graham system. They not only abstain
from animal food, but take the utmost care of all
animals, even vermin, erecting hospitals for their
convenience.
The first food of man was probably vegetable,
but either from taste, or because the alternative
was presented to him of, to eat or be eaten by
them, he improved his fare by dooming the ani-
mals to minister to his appetite. The physiolo-
gists tell us there are good reasons for this. " If
we examine the animals that do not eat flesh,"
they say, "we shall find that their stomachs are
of a very different structure from that of man.
The animals that subsist on grain and berries
have a thick muscular stomach, before which
there is a large gullet. The organs of digestion
of the graminivorous, ruminating animals have
several cavities in which the food is gradually
elaborated. The human stomach, on the other
hand, is of the same kind as that of the dog and
other carnivorous animals." — The juices of ani-
mals have a closer affinity with ours than the
juices of vegetables, and are more nutritious
to us.
We see, therefore, no absolute necessity for a
departure from the time-honored custom of eat-
ing animal food. The "flesh pots of Egypt"
need not be wholly avoided ; and though one
may not be justified in selling his birthright, like
Esau, for a mess of pottage, still he will be en-
titled to absolution if he eats a good dinner
when he can get one. Our restaurateurs need
not fear that they will be obliged to remove their
tempting signs of savory sirloins and haunches
of venison, and bunches of canvas-back ducks,
and substitute pictures of cabbages, carrots and
turnips.
Bran-bread homceopathic soup made of the
shadows of pigeons, are decidedly at a discount.
Sawdust puddings will not rise; and unbolted
wheat pancakes are down flat! "Dost thou
think because thou art virtuous there shall be no
more cakes and ale ? No, by St. Anne !" The
poulterers and butchers will thrive, in spite of
theorists ; and Brighton will still be the Mecca
of the hungered faithful !
Portrait of Hosea Balloti. — We have re-
ceived from Abel Tompkins, publisher, 38 Corn-
hill, Boston, a very perfect and flnely-executed
engraving and likeness of the late Rev. Hosea
Ballon. As a likeness, we have never seen its
superior, and certainly as a work of art, it chal-
lenges our highest encomiums. The artist, Mr.
H. W. Smith, of this city, has done himself
great credit in the engraving he has produced.
" The Yankee Champion : or, The Tory and
his League." — This popular story, by Sylvanus
Cobb, Jr., just completed in the columns of the
Elag of our Union, is now published in book
form, and is for sale at all the periodical depots,
and at the office of publication.
Munificent Donation. — Joshua Bates,Esq.,
of the eminent house of Baring Brothers & Co.,
has made the liberal donation of fifty thousand
dollars, for the purchase of books for the Boston
Public Library.
Gleasox's Pictorial Da.^wiNO-'RooM Companion Ptanda
so high in the estimation of the lovers of genuine liteniry
merit, that our commendations would hardly add to its
well e.^rned popularity. Its embellishments are of a hi^h
order, and the mechanical execution of the paper exhibits
an excellent taste, and a generous outlay of expense, that
makes it a desirable and attractive parlor companion. —
PainesviUe Free Press.
SoNTAG. — The Philadelphians were thorough-
ly aroused into a furore by this (sacredly named)
queen of song.
BuEAL. — N. P. Willis is building himself a
country residence on the Highlands.
HOIVIE AGAIN.
After a brief absence from home, we are once
more in our cozy sanctum, with an abundant
supply of white paper, ink and pens lying most
suggestively before us. Our readers will bear us
witness that we are not very often a truant, and,
perhaps, they could hardly have discovered our
late absence, but for this gratuitous acknowledg-
ment ; however, we returned refreshed for the
duty of our post.
New York is growing so fast as to seem to be
going out of town towards the reservoir by
strides, opening its immense folds of resources
as we do the sections of a measuring rule, and
stretching its length and breadth with colossal
power over the whole of Manhattan. The entire
length of Broadway seems to have been measured
for a new suit of marble and freestone — six and
seven story buildings going up on its whole
length, of most magnificent elegance in style.
The far-famed Metropolitan Hotel, with its
multiplied splendors of furniture and luxurious
elegancies, is to be outdone by still another
Broadway hotel, now half constructed, and al-
ready presenting, with its snowy front of white
marble, a most striking architectural picture — we
refer to the St. Nicholas. Indeed public and
private buildings are going up in all directions
(and especially in the Fifth Avenue) with Alad-
din-like splendor and celerity.
Theatricals in New York are on the topmost
wave of success. Wallack's Theatre, late Brough-
am's Lyceum, the Broadway, Niblo's, Burton's
Theatre, the National and Bowery, are all open,
and pecuniarily successful. Wallack's, Niblo's
and the Broadway are model theatres, both for
the beauty of their interior arrangements and the
good taste displayed in the character of the per-
formances. Wallack's "Benedick" carried us
back to our earliest theatrical experience in the
old Tremont Theatre, of this city. Wallack is
soon to perform an engagement at our National,
when we shall present the readers of the Pictorial
with an admirable original likeness of him.
THE "CEDARS."
A few days since, while on a literary pilgrim-
age, we called upon Henry W. Herbert, at his
cottage, near Newark, N. J., by the banks of the
Passaic, which he has named the " Cedai-s." The
entitling was suggested by the luxurious abun-
dance of the species of wood that hems in his
rural retreat on the land side, forming a beautiful
and closely interwoven grove. Here we found
" Frank Forrester " in his element, surrounded
by his dogs, guns, and trophies of tlie sportsman's
skill, and the material for the author's hand and
brain. Mr. Herbert is too well known to require
any eulogium from us ; his industrious pen has
rendered him famous in more than one field of
literature, and has won for him a lasting and
distinguished reputation.
VERY GOOD.
One of our agents made ninety dollars in the
last ten days, in selling our hound volumes of
the Pictorial. Another has madeyoriy dollars in
the last week. This is profitable business surely,
and shows that the works in the hands of a smart
man will realize to him a very large yearly in-
come. We have not made a practice of sending
out agents, but seeing how well the few that
have been engaged in the business have done, we
are still willing to try a few more.
Silver Mines. — The silver mines of Chili,
twenty miles south of Capiapo, are said to be in-
exhaustible. They were discovered in 1812.
A peasant pulled up a bush, and at the root was
a mass of solid silver. In three weeks, more
than forty veins were discovered. The Chilians
are too lazy to work these rich mines.
The Mayor's Levee. — Mr. Seaver gave a
brilliant and most agreeable reception party, the
other day, in honor of the return of Hon. Abbott
Lawrence. Nearly a thousand guests responded
to his polite invitations.
Houses. — Why don't people build dwelling-
houses in Boston 1 they are in great and con-
stant demand.
True. — The world's worst traps are, doubt-
less, in the shape of " dangerous facilities."
^ .^«a». »
Musical. — The Boston Musical Hall is al
most completed.
Next Number. — Read the announcement.
In this city, by Rev. J. Commings, J. "W. Harper,
Esq., of Brooklyn, N. Y., to Miss Abby P. Sleeper.
By Rev. JVIr. kirk, Mr. Edward Bissel Hunt, TJ. S. N.,
to Miss Helen Maria Fiske.
By Rev. Mr. Stone, Mr. Seth Eastman to Miss Olive E.
VToodsum.
By Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. George W". Philbrick to Mias
Mary Jane Matth' ws.
By Rev. Dr. Neale, Mr. Jacob Traine to Miss Mari^ T.
Sayles, of Chelsea.
By Rev. rhineas Stow, Mr. Nathaniel S. Little to Miss
MaryE. Hook, both of Manchester, N. H.
At Charlesto\m, by Rev Mr. Flint, Mr. John GEluntz to
Mrs. Florence Norwood.
At Somerville, by Rev. Mr. Pope, Mr. Robert Hollings-
wortb to Miss Louiva C. Ireland.
At Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Steams, Mr. Milton "Wason
to Miss Maria A. Borgnis.
At Reading, by Rev. Mr. Tolman, Mr. Enoch Foster,
Jr., to Miss Mary Frost.
At Dedham, by Rev. Dr. Lamson, Mr. Charles G. Mack-
intosh to Miss Harriet Ann Richards.
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Smith, Mr. Asa Thompson to
Miss Sarah Boardman.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Bowen, Mr. William H.
Swasey to Miss Susan Babson.
At Bolfast, Me., by Rev. Mr. Cutter, Mr. Richard
Brigg.^, of Boston, to Miss Fannie Towne.
At Effingham, N. H , Mr. R. H. Burbank, of Boston,
to Miss Abby M. Di"ake.
At Pluladelpnia, Mr. James P. Brown, of Boston, to
Miss Ellen D, Cowperthwaite.
In this city. Mr. James H. Plummer, 23 : Mr Horatio
L. Goodwin, '86 : Mrs. Emily T. Hathaway, 29; Mrs. Mar-
garet Bradford. 82 - Dr. John Ma.'^on, 63.
At Chariestown, Mr Isaac Lothrop, 43.
At Roxbury, Mrs. Mary Butler, 79.
At Cambridge, Mr. Joshua Biniiey. 76.
At Cambridgeport. Mr, Lucius R. Paige, Jr., 23.
At Taunton, Hon. Francis Baylies, 69.
At Medford, Mrs. Hannah P. Kidder, 09.
At W"altham, Mr. Levi Gnrney, 54.
At W"eston, Miss LucyCoburn, 36.
At Sangus, Mrs. Abigail Newball, 74.
At Salem, Mrs. Mary S. Clough, S2.
At Marblehead, Mrs. Jane Strong. 88.
At Lowell. Mrs. Sarah H. Stott, 48-
At Hamilton, Mr. William Meady, 59.
At Gloucester, Miss Caroline C. Sayward, 16.
At Amesbury, Mrs. Ruth Tibbetts, 74.
At Metbuen, Mr. Phineas V. Stanley, 38.
At Milbur^ , Mrs. Harriet N. Holman 22.
At Worcester, Mrs. Mary Ann Smith, 36.
At t'itcbbursr, Mr. Benjamin Brigham, 78.
At Dartmouth, Mr. Abiab Jones, Jr., 62.
At West Townsend, Mr Edward WiswoU, 55-
At Portland, Me., Mr. Alfred Beals, 25-
At Camden, Me,, Mrs. Mehitable H. Bartlett, 28.
At Mason, N. H., Mr Oliver Hopmer, 88
At Hartford, Ct., Mr. Charles M. Clerc 26.
At iVe.st Hapen. Ct., Rer. Edward Wright, 3".
At Clarence, N. Y., Mr3. Lu^nnda Wright, 52.
At Ont.''rio. 111.. Mr. I'.ieoaore Cone. Kl
— AXD — ■
LITERAEY WEEKLY JOURiSrAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A Record of the heautiful and usefid in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary niclaugo of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEKICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events iu all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous "ity in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character iu the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to Inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
combined excellencies.
TERMS: $2 00 PEE VOITTME.
OR, !?4 00 PER ANNUM.
IKVAKIABLT IN ADVANCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[C?^- One copy of the Flag op our Union, and one copy
of the PicTOEiAL Drawing-Roou Companion, one year,
for So 00.
fCf" The Pictorial Drawtng-Room Companion may be
obt;iined at any of the periodical depots throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ie>i ceiiis per single copy.
Published every Saturday, by
F. GLEASON, B08T0N, 3Uss.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, I5i .sasi^u, cor. spruce otreet, New York
A. WINCH, 116 Che.itnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAYLOR & L 0.. Ill Baltimore St.. Baltimore,
A. C BAGLEY, 10 West Third Street, Cin. innati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avenue. Deti-oit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. Fourth aiid Chesnut, St. Louis.
Ql^r* Sybscripiions recMve/i at either oj the cAm^t places.
318
CLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[WrItteD forGltiftBon'H IMotorliil.]
WINTKR IS COflUJSCi.
ST £. CUIITIHS IlINE, V. S. H.
Gono uro the plcasimt RUnimcr days,
The chilHiiK witidfl Imvo eorii« ;
And chcurk'Mly tbo cold smi pliijH
On inimy a dreary liomo.
Tlio floldfi tliiit smiled ro t'rcsb and grtien,
Bwoeath the skies of Juno,
In rusact muntlts now are seen,
And birda liavo ceased their tuno.
It is an emblem of our life,
And wjvkena thoughts of pain ;
Reminding uh when joye were rife,
And fell like summer rain ;
Seared are the meadowfl of the heart,
Chill grief baa left bis atain ;
And aa our youthful days depart,
We'll see them, ne'er again !
[Written for Gleason'e Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
Ko. XII.
BY KEV. r. W. HOLLAND.
TIBERIAS AND ITS LAKE.
My French friend, liaving got enough of Syria, determined to
return over the .same track which wc had so lately jiassed to the
steamship-station at Bciroot. At Nazaictli, we had expected to
part company, and I was likely to be left alone with my Turkish
muleteer, whose name even was unknown to me, and the reputa-
tion of whose class was stupidity, indolence, cowardice and want
of fidelity. This was anything but an inviting prospect. So I
bustled about in Jerusalem to discover a reliable dragoman — one
who might be a companion as well as a guide, a protection as
much as a domestic convenience. But neither of the consulates
could furnish a man at such short notice, though tliere must have
been hundreds at Jerusalem acquainted with the way, and entirely
free from business. So I had to start again from a city where
I would gladly have spent a month, instead of a week, full
of apprehension as to the future. The road, after I was to leave
my companion, was said to be peculiarly dangerous. My Syrian
map satisfied me there was no comfortable shelter to be found
from Tiberias to Damascus; and in this monotonous dragging
along through voiceless solitudes, you need inexpressibly some
sort of society, where another traveller is not met periiaps for
the whole day, a four-footed creature other than your own horses
seen, nor a sound heard save from some startled partridge in the
woods, or the erooning dirge sung by your sad-voiced mule-man ;
where, too, is no misty morn or dewy eve, but the change from
the intolerable glare of noon is to intense gloom at night, one
may be pardoned for craving company. And, yet, all unarmed,
and, if need be, alone, I was determined upon visiting Damascus.
Providence, however, took better care of me than I could of my-
self; and as I was perplexing myself with anxious cares on the
second night, I heard M. Hamelin say to our old servant : " Nico-
lai, we are all going to Damascus " — my after sleep was very
sweet, and morning never looked so beautiful before, as when I
woke and felt the perfect security which one European friend
always gives to another — felt the carelessness of a child as to any
future difficulty.
From Nazareth to Tiberias, the first part of the route that was
new, a delightful six hours' ride upon one of the sweetest morn-
ings that ever was made, led by Cana, of Galilee — a poor, thiev-
ish, lazy and dirty village — and past a mount termed by the
Latins, but not the Greeks, " The Beatitudes." The castle and
battlemented walls of Tiberias make a grand show as you first
catch sight of them from the flowering hillside, but the shock is
very great when you come to enter the ruined, poverty-stricken
sickly, nasty hole, It is one of the four holy cities, of wliich the
Talmud declares that "creation must cease when Jewish worship
ceases to be offered there ;" and is, of course, greatly resorted to
by I*olish and Flemish Jews, who while out a miserable existence
in praying and studying the Talmud ; but it is such a furnace in
summer, that most of the inhabitants desert their houses for little
green arbors on the roof, where they sleep, as well as sit, and
vainly hope to escape swarming vermin. It is, besides, subject to
tcrril)le earthquakes — that of 1837 having killed hundreds, injured
every house, thrown down much of the walls, and branded the
whole place with still fresh traces of destruction. Half of the
four thousand population is the mo^t bigoted of Israel; the other
half MuBSulmen, or Greek Christians. A very plain, long arched
and ancient chapel is shown as the scene of the miraculous
draught of fishes, but Robinson thought the building no older
than the times of the crusades ; a single, churlish Gi'cck monk
has charge of the establishment, which is owned by the Nazareth
friars, and dedicated to St. Peter.
Tiberias was built by King Herod in tlie best part of Galilee,
where it could command the business of the lake, chipccially its
fishery, and was honored with the name of the lloman emperor.
The largest city in the vicinity, it has long outlived its rivals, and
is resorted to now, as it was under the liomans, for the hot me-
dicinal baths at Emmaus, a little south of its walls. Joscjjbus
speaks of these sulphijr and chalybeate springs, and the latest
Biblical Cyclopedia mentions tliom as somctliing of ancient re-
nown. 13ut people still resort to them in great nnnibers, and are
frCfjuG^tly c^rc4 of ciitqineous disorders. I found that the build-
ings, cHpecially the beautiful dome-covered one erected hylbrnbim
Pasha, bad been greatly injured, but the basin was full of water,
and persons were enjoying its fragrant steam, even at the twilight
hour. There are four hot springs, some of tliem with a strong,
sulphur smt'll, of the highest temperature which the hand can
bear, and of mineral strength enough to dye the stones around
their mouths with the gayest hues. There is no " village of Em-
maus," as Kitio states, nor are these mineral baths of grwat an-
tiquity, or there would have been some allusion to them in tlic
Scriptures. Some of the modern earthquakes must have given
freedom to a mountain rill, and helped it to pass over beds of sul-
phur, salt and iron in their heated state. Tiie whole region is
unquestionably volcanic.
Massive and elegant Roman ruins, columns and cornices ex-
tend from the present city about two miles to the south. They
show how extensive and well built was the former metropolis of
Galilee. I found no fragment of buildings, in Palestine Proper,
at all as rich and spacious. Erected probably during tlie ministry
of the Saviour, and therefore one of the most modern places in
Palestine, it resisted Vespasian very bravely, but unsuccessfully;
was afi;erwards taken by Mussulmen, Crusaders, and finally by
its present masters, the Turks. Besides its importance as a mili-
tary position, commanding this wide sheet of inland waters, after
the overthrow of Jerusalem it became the centre of Jewish learn-
ing, and is still the seat of a college, a sanhedrim and several
synagogues. But there is neither a boat nor a net in the jjlacc ;
and so wretchedly unclean are the houses, that the proverb in all
mouths is the "king of fleas holds his court in Tiberias."
We were lodged very comfortably, though somewhat expen-
sively, by a German Jew, Dr. Heirn Wiseman, the whole of whose
hotel consisted of the one saloon occupied by us, and not visited
before for more than a month. High charges for such very rare
services seemed not at all unreasonable; and his viands were ex-
cellent, especially the delicious fish of the lake. His former re-
quest, that "gentlemen on leaving his house would have the
goodness to give him what ihey pleased," is changed into a
lengthy tavern bill, in which notliing is forgotten.
This plague-bitten, death-doomed city is another specimen of
the victory of religion over nature. But for the pious traditions
of the place, it would have been deserted long ago for the lovely
mountain slope right back of the town, where every advantage of
the lake would be enjoyed, besides a constant prospect of its wa-
ters, and the pestilence, tlie earthquake and the burning heat es-
caped. A humane government would have removed the popula-
tion after the great earthquake, and not have encouraged them to
rush back into the jaws of future destruction. But the Turkish
rulers have about the same love for the people, as the vulture and
jackal which infest the land.
If we were exposed to the winter severities of the climate, to
rain above and mud below, to swollen streams and occasional
snows upon the mountains, we were amply repaid here, especially
by such beauties of scenery as summer is sure to wither. Noth-
ing could be greener than the treeless mountain sides which frame
in the glassy mirror of this lake. At the end of January the win-
ter crops of grain, or the natural herbage freshened by frequent
showers, or the numberless wild flowers made a richer carpet
than Gobelin tapestry beneath our feet, or threw a spell of beauty
over the fine range of hills on the distant shore. The lake itself,
called uniformly by the native name of the city, Tabarea, is twelve
miles long and five broad, and in its greatest depth one hundred
and sixty-five feet. It is exposed to the same sudden squalls as it
was in the days of the disci])les, is equally abundant in fish, and
might maintain the same multitude as of old upon its rich, but
deserted " coasts." The latest description given by a Jew
(Schwartz), says that "one constantly sees an active intercourse
carried on through means of small vessels, in which the inhabit-
ants of the opposite side bring wood and other articles to Tiberi-
as." Were the band of the Arab robber restrained, and any fixed
inhabitants settled on the further shore, there might be some such
commerce again, but not a sail now glides over the sleeping wa-
ters, nor the plash of an oar ever disturbs its mournful repose.
The silence is more remarkable than that which you expect to
see, and of which you discover the natural cause, at the Dead Sea.
Capernaum, over which that doom was uttered : " Thou Caper-
naum, which art exalted unto heaven, shall be cast down to hell,"
some Amerit-an letter- writers profess to have seen; but the very
name of the place has utterly perished, and the dispute is yet go-
ing on as to its true location, the latest authorities placing it some
five miles back from the lake, where extensive ruins are found.
Medjel, the Dalmanntha of Mark, originally Magdala, the resi-
dence of the Magdalen, a wretched and sickly village of thirty
houses, at the south of a very fertile valley, is the only other set-
tlement on the same side with Tiberias. At its northern extrem-
ity are the ruins of a khan. As our procession, increased by a
young soldier, an escort from Nazareth, wound along the head of
the lake on a most lovely spring day, the air just warm enough
to make exercise agreeable, the sunlight gleaming brightly from
the unclouded waters, the shelving slopes of the western bank
contrasting finely with the turrcttcd mountains of the eastem, the
first object of interest was the khan of "Joseph's pit" — a resting-
place for caravans on the great road to Damascus, where both
Moslem and Christian tradition ]:)laccs the scene of this noble
boy's confinement by his brethren, in a rocky pit some thirty-five
feet deep. Following what the Scripture terms the "way of the
sen," we crossed the foaming and tossing Jordan over an old stone
bridge, named, from an unknown period, "The Sons of Jacob."
Here another khan, intended, peihaps, as a protection to this im-
portant bi'idge, invited us to rest. But we had no time to spare;
we made the hcst of our way to a Bedouin encampment, whose
hoypitaliiicH we v/cre determined to try.
[Written for Glcaflon'fl Pictorial.]
AUTOGIIAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGTJISHED HiTLIVID'aALS.
No. XI.
BY WM. I!DWAItD KN0WLE8.
The late Edgar A. Poe was, indeed, a strange genius. His
whole writings read like the wild imaginings of a mind diseased.
As an author, he is without an equal. No brainless imitators rise
up to mutilate the thoughts he has left behind him. He stands
before us, unapproachable. He seemed born to misfortune, and
tlie knowledge of it cast around him the gloom of melancholy.
His cliirogniphy is decidedly picturesque, and evinces a mind
wild and visionary. It gives evidence of indcfnti/jaltiliti/ — a quality
which he possessed in an eminent degree. The signature is
heavier than the majority of his manuscript.
W. L Stoxe has been connected with the press for many
years. His autograph is heavy, and devoid of anything like
genius. One would think, to judge from his handwriting, that
he had written it under the impulse of some strange dream. It is
extremely sprawling and irregular.
Mrs. St. LEoy Loud is one of our best poets. Her manuscript
is neat and graceful. Her imaginative powers aie good, and to
this she owes her success in authorship. She ranks high among
the votaries to the muses, and is a bright star in tlie constellatioa
of female poets.
T. G. Spear has written some very creditable things in the
way of poetry. His productions are much admired, both for Ibeir
gracefulness and beauty. His signature is a fair specimen of his
manuscript.
<y . cZ ■ '^Cx^X^
Dr. Hawks w^as, we believe, one of the originators of the
"New York Review." He ha-s also written several works, among
which is the " History of the Episcopal Church of Virginia." His
chirography is fluent and graceful.
9r- c/.
a--^ oL on^
The chirography of Wsi. Landor is petite, and without hair
strokes. It is rather stiflly formed. The signature is far better
than tlic general manuscript, though this has a stubbed and crisp
appearance.
H. S. Legare has contributed many articles of real merit to
the southern press. But his handwriting can lay no claims to
gracefulness. There is to© much pretension, and straining after
mere effect. This is not as well seen in the signature as in the
manuscript.
The late Grenville Mellen was a strange genius — with a
mind flighty and unsettled. His straining after elfect is even
greater than Mr. Legare's. Yet he has written some verse, which
will cstal)lish his name in the galaxy of American poets.
JosErii H. Butler's name is familiar to the readers of the
Pictorial, as an author whose ])oetical contributions are marked
by much feeling and merit. His manuscript is peculiar, being
usually more like scrawls than fair-formed letters. It bears the
marks of haste, and seems dashed off under strong impulse.
GLEASON'S nCTORlAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
319
WATER.
In early ages, water was reverenced as the
substance of which all things in ihe universe
■were supposed to be made, and the vivifying
principle that animated the whole ; hence rivers,
fountains and wells were worshipped, and relig-
ious feasts and ceremonies instituted in honor of
them, or of the spii'its which were believed to
preside over them. Almost all nations retain
relics of this superstition, while in some it is prac-
tised to a lamentable extent. Asia exhibits the
humiliating spectacle of millions of her people
degraded by it, as in former ages. Shoals of
pilgrims are constantly in motion over all Hin-
dostan, on their way to the "sacred Ganges ;"
their tracks stained with the blood and covered
with the bones of thousands that perish on the
road. With these people, it is deemed a virtue
even to think of this river ; while to bathe in its
waters washes away all sins ; and to expire on
its brink, or be suffocated in it, is the climax of
human felicity. The Holy Well, in the city of
Benares, is visited by devotees from all parts of
India; to it they offer rice, etc., as to their idols.
LITERARY REMAIAS OF WEBSTER.
Besides his speeches, orations and State pa-
pers— a priceless legacy in themselves — Mr.
Webster left no work which has been published.
It was understood that he was, previous to his
death, engaged on a History of the Administra-
tion of Washington. In the multiplicity of his
public and professional duties, we fear the la-
mented statesman found but little leisure to de-
vote to this great work, and that it has been left
unfinished. It is less than a year since the
speeches, orations and diplomatic papers of Mr.
Webster were collected and arranged by the
Hon. Edward Everett. — They were published in
gix octavo volumes, the first of which contained
a memoir.
THE DIPTHER,*.
Such is said to be the name of a new tonnet
which is all the rage in Paris — invented by a re-
tiring "goddess of fashion," Madame d'Golberg.
It is made, can it be credited, out of "polished
leather ;" and it is said that the really beautiful
way in which the material is made subservient
to every style of wearer, from the truly coquet-
tish to the sombre or demure, fully justifies its
high reputation. Truly has some philosopher
said — " There's nothing like leather."
Death of a Revolutionary Soldier. —
John Wadleigh, a soldier of the revolution, died
at Shaker Village, N. H., October 23, aged 95
years, 7 months and 23 days. He was at the
battle of Bunker Hill, and was one of the last to
leave the scene of action. He was one of the
founders of the Society of Shakers, having been
a member of that fraternity over seventy years.
Charlestown Nayy Yard. — The navy yard
wears a lively and business-like aspect; all the
workshops are filled with workmen busily en-
gaged in preparing equipments for the vessels
fitting out at that station. About three hundred
hands have been recently engaged in the yard,
and additions are daily being made.
Large Funeral. — A funeral procession late-
ly formed at the Endicott Street Church, in this
city, and passed through several streets to the
Old Catholic Burial Ground, nuralicring 62 car-
riages, and 368 persons on foot, and measured
three quarters of a mile in length.
Cholera in Europe. —The latest reports
from the district of Ctntral Europe, where the
cholera has prevailed, are more favorable than
previous ones. Tiie disease is abating in most
localities from which reports have been received.
Eulogy on Webster. — Hon. Edward Eve-
rett has been invited by the Committee to deliv-
er the eulogy on Jlr. Webster before the city
authorities.
Ekance. — The English presses affirm that all
the demonstrations wliich have greeted Louis
Napoleon, during his tour to the South, are
heartless, or got up for the occasion.
Thanksgiving. — Thursday, the 25th inst.,
has been appointed as a day of Public Thanks-
giving and Praise throughout the Commonwealth.
MuBiCAL.— The reason of Alboni's brief stay
among us is, that she is under previous European
engagements, and must return.
lUaiisiiJe ©atljcrings.
A shark was lately captured off Nahant, weigh-
ing 200 pounds.
Judge Woodbury's papers are to be issued
soon in Boston.
Governor Bigler has appointed the 25th inst.
as a day of thanksgiving in Pennsylvania.
The Bath Tribune says, the fishing fleet of that
town have stocked, during the present season,
S60,000.
Mr. Cogswell, of the Astor Library, is about
to go abroad for the purchase of still more
books.
The strike of the long- shore men in New York
has terminated, and the laborers have gone to
work.
The Mormons are building a dense city at Salt
Lake, and extending their sertlementsin all direc-
tions in the valley. The tabernacle is finished.
The Portsmouth Journal states, that butchers'
meat is cheaper in that place the present season,
than it has been in some recent years.
The Treasurer of the Montreal Relief Eund
acknowledges the receipt of $2700 since previous
announcement.
The Rev. Mr. Jenkins, of Fitzwilliam, raised
a potato this year which weighed three pounds
and four ounces !
Martha Holbrook has received a verdict for
SIOOO, at Providence, against Joseph Pinkham,
who promised to marry her, but failed to do so.
The Blue Ridge Tunnel has penetrated the
mountain about 1900 feet from the western base,
and about 800 feet from the eastern side.
Gov. Ujhazy advertises his farm in Towa for
sale. He is going to Texas. The climate of
Iowa being too rigid for him.
The citizens of Savannah have subscribed
SnOO,000 towai'ds the completion of the Savan-
nah and Albany Railroad.
Mrs. French, wife of a hotel keeper in Wilton>
committed suicide, lately. She; U supposed to
have been deranged.
Gov, Reid, in his late message to the Legisla-
ture of North Carolina, recommends the passage
of an amendment allowing all free white men to
vote for State senators.
The editor of the Biddeford, Me., Journal has
been sued for a libel at Alfred, in saying that the
jail yard, etc., was in a filthy condition, and a
nuisance. Damages laid at $2000.
John Wise, the aeronaut, is said to be prepar-
ing his large balloon for the purpose of testing
the praclicability of an atrial voyage across the
Atlantic.
To encourage emigration to the Provinces,
the St. John News aclvocales the aboHsliing of
"head money on emigrants" — which is ten
shillings.
A former in Euclid, Ohio, has, this season,
raised 3000 bushels of potatoes on ten acres of
ground, and marketed tliem in Cleveland at 30
cents per bushel.
Swallow's India rubber clothing fixctory, in
Connecticut, has been destroyed by fire; also a
car spring manufactory, connected with it. Loss
of the latter, $30,000, only $10,000 insured.
Sixteen head of short horn improved stock,
imported b}"^ the Sciota company, were recently
sold in Ohio, bringing $21,785, averaging over
$1300 each. The highest price paid was $2520.
Accounts from Cape Breton state that the fall
fishing has been very limited on the coast. Her-
ring and mackerel, which were foi'merly plenty,
have become scarce.
The Treasurer of the Seamen's Orphan and
Children's Eriend Society, of Salem, acknowl-
edges the receipt of five hundred dollars as a
legacy from Mrs. Pierson.
While the governor of California is trying to
drive the Chinese out of that State, the govern-
ment of British Guiana oifcrs a bounty of eighty
dollars on tiieir importation.
At Utica, N. Y., recently, sixty head of cattle
and four men were precipitated into the Erie
Canal l)y the giving way of a bridge. One of
the men was seriously injured. All the cattle
were saved.
An e^^ within an egg, both shells perfectly
formed, was left at the oftice of the Exeter News
Letter, lately, by Franklin Clark, of Stratliam,
N. H. The interior of the inner shell was " an
empty void."
The United States Treasurer at New Orleans
gives notice that drafts to the amount of over a
million of dollars, transmitted lo the Indian
agent, have been lost, and cautions the public
against receiving them.
Another infant drummer lias started up in
Womelsdorf, Berks County, Pa., who is describ-
ed as a musical wonder, performing difficult mili-
tary airs with great precision and skill. He is
the son of Captain Clouse, and is only three
years of age.
The house in Providence, knouTi as the John
Brown house, one of rhe most elegant private
residences in Providence, has been lately sold for
$30,000. The house was built by the late John
Brown, 1778. Connected with the house is
about thirty-six thousand feet of land.
The old United States Bank of 1791 is pav-
ing out its very last dividend of 70 cents on "a
share. — The last previous dividend was in 1834,
some eighteen years ago, when about two per
cent, was paid. We understand that the whole
amount paid to stockholders, since the expira-
tion of its charter, is about $109 per share.
foreign iHisallang.
Queen A^'ictoria has left Scotland for Windsor
Castle.
It is rumored that Lord Fitzroy Somerset is
appointed Governor of India.
Verdi, the composer, has had the cross of the
Legion of Honor conferred on him.
The export of corn is prohibited in Egypt in
consequence of an apprehended scarcity.
The whole Russian army has bicn ordered to
go into mourning for the L)uke of Wellington.
The Earl of Derby is elected Chancellor of Ox-
ford University.
Oflicial despatches relative to the cruise of the
Prince Albert, have been published, but they give
no tidings of Sir John Franklin.
Louis Napoleon made liis triumphant entry to
Paris on the IGth ult. The pageant was splen-
did beyond description.
A private in the British army, 4th Regiment
Light Dragoons, named Hugh Belfrage, has be-
come heir to a proi^erty of half a million sterling.
Arrivals of gold from Australia are recorded
daily. The ship Medway has just reached Lon-
don with 61,500 ounces, valued at £270,000.
Intelligence has been i-eceived from Syria, that
the Qruses are everywhere arming, and an insur-
rection in Palestine is apprehended.
In Scotland, the grain crops are unusually
abundant, but the potato crop has failed to an
enormous extent.
A railway train, in which was the King of
Naples, came in collision with another train,
lately, but no one was injured.
Miss Rosa Bennett, a sister of Miss Julia Ben-
nett, made her first appearance on the 7th ult.,
at the Haymarket Theatre, London.
Lord Combcrmere is nominated Constable of
the Tower of London, vice the late Duke of
Wellington.
The King of Denmark, it is said, intends to
abdicate, the constitution forced on him in 1848
being too democratic for his liking.
The appointment of G. P. E. James as Con-
sul at Norfolk, Va., appears in the Gazette of the
13th ult. Charles Wilthem is appointed British
Consul at Acapulco.
It is understood that the papers of the late
Duke of Wellington — a most voluminous collec-
tion of private and official documents — are en-
ti'usted to Lord Malion, who will undertake their
preparation for the press.
The Manchester (Eng.) Free Libraiy, formed
by subscriptions to the amount of £12,000, col-
lected in that town alone, has just been opened
to the public. The books, although in one
building, are really in two libraries, one of
16,000 volumes for reference, and one of 5000
volumes for circulation.
mtx s
Bitltiget.
Sanis of ©olir.
.... A beautiful eye makes silence eloquent.
Fable is a torch borne in the hand of
truth.
.... A people who have no amusements, have
no manner.
The cup of joy, unlike all others, is
heaviest when empty.
.... Habit uniformly and constantly strength-
ens all our active exertions.
.... It is sound policy to suffer all extremities
rather than to do a base action.
.... The feelings, like flowers and butterflies,
last longer the later they are delayed.
.... Labor and prudence relieve us from
three great evils, vice, want and indolence.
Onr happiness does not consist in being
without passions, but in having command of
them.
The blue of heaven refreshes the eye of
the soul when it rests upon it, as much as the
green of earth does that of the body.
.... A handsome woman pleases the eye ;
but a good woman pleases the heart. The one
is a jewel, the other a treasure.
.... There is a heaven in woman's heart, full
of beauty, but dim ; and it is liard for man to
count and classify all the stars that adorn it.
.... There are some lessons which adversity
will be sure lo teach us, and among others this
— that goodness in a woman is more admirable
than beauty.
.... Secret kindnesses done to mankind are as
beautiful as secret injuries are detestable. To
be invisibly good is as godlike as to be invisibly
evil is diabolical.
Anger is the most impotent passion that
influences the mind of man ; it effects nothing it
undertakes, and hurts the man who is possessed
by it, more than the object against which-itis
directed.
.... He who can wait for what he desires,
takes the course not to be exceedingly grieved if
he fails of it. He, on the contrary, who labors
after a thing too impatiently, thinks the success,
when it comes, is not a recompense equal to all
the pains he has been at about it,
.... Whatever we think out, whatever we
take in hand to do, should be peifectly and final-
ly finished, that the word, if it must alter, will
only have to spoil it; we have then nothing to
do but unite the severed — to recollect and restore
the dismembered. — Goethe.
A lady once entered a stage coach with so
much powder on her face that she blew up the
driver.
A man in Bristol was such an inveterate gam-
bler, that he not only lost all he possessed one
evening, but lost his way home !
An Irish gentleman lately fought a duel with
his intimate friend, because he jocosely asserted
that he was born without a shirt to his back !
When the rivers are low, and they wish to
praise a steamer in Arkansas, they say she will
run anywhere where it is a little damp !
" I say, Jim, don't you think Glazier has a
very benign countenance V — " Very, indeed,"
was the reply, "a regular 7 by 9 countenance."
A person complaining of the smallness of
some chops brought to table, an incorrigible wag
observed ; " Probably the sheep was fed on short
commons !"
" Robert, compare the adjective cold," said
a schoolmaster to an urchin. "Positive cold,
comparative cough, superlative coffin," said the
hoy.
" I am indeed very much afraid of lightning,"
said a pretty lady. " And well you may be,"
replied a despairing lover, " when your heart is
made of steel."
A barrister observed to a learned brother, that
he thought his whiskers very unprofes.sional.
"You are right," replied liis friend, " a lawyer
cannot he loo barefaced."
" Well, captain, when do you sail for Califor-
nia"?"— "On Tuesday next," — "How do you
go?" — "Through the Straits; shall I book you
for the voyage?" — " I reckon not; I left home
to get out of a strait, and don't mean to get into
another."
A gentleman praising the personal charms of
a very plain woman, his friend asked him :
" Why don't you lay claim to such an accom-
plished, beauty V " What right have E to her V
asked the former. " Every right by the laws of
nations," replied the other, " you being the Jirst
discoverer."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes Ist and 2d of fche Pictoeial Drawikg
Room Companios elegantly bound in oloth, with gilt edgf a
and bac-k, and illumined sides, forming a superb and mott
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAININQ MEAELT
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, aud current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home aud abroad; cf
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite vaiiety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUmNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming avejy
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pagts
a vast iimount of original Tales, Skett;hes, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authoi-s, with a current
News Kecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
iUustrations,
Tor sale it the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, aud at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
tTnion, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUIl UMOJ^.
AN ELEGANT, MOKAL AND KEFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite hterature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, "Wi-itten expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In polities, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its coluuinB ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOB. THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOE. TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly papur ill tke UiiUed Sm(e.'!, and its literary
content-s are allowed, b}' the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the gi-eat-est possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offenng the entke sheet, which is of
THE 3IAMM0TH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished aud per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the wiU. we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Uuiou.
TEEMS TO STTBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " " 6 oa
3 " " 11 00
IG " ' 20 00
One copy of the Flag of odr ^J^'I0N, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawing-Room Compasios, one j-ear, for So 00.
\^^^j^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, oa the abovji terms.
rC7=- All orders should be addressed. POST p.ilD, to the
PoBLiSQEa of the Flaq of our Uxiox.
%* The Flag can be obtained at any of the newspaper
depots ill the United States, and of newspaper carriers^ at
FOUR CENTS per siiig'e copy.
F. GLEASOJf.
POBLISHER ^ND PRpPRIETQ^, BOSTQS, MA§g.
320
GLEASONVS PICTORIAL DRAWINd ROOM tO:MPAi\ION.
VIEW OF THE RESIDENCE OF THE LATE HON. DANIEL WEBSTER.
DAHrtEL WEBSTER'S LATE RESIDENCE.
The engraving above represents the farm and
residence of the late Hon. Daniel Webster, at
Marshfield, Mass., where this eminent statesman,
when permitted to retire from the bustle and tur-
moil of public life, was wont to sit down under
his own vine and fiff tree. The farm is most
superbly stocked, and carried on in the most
thrifty manner, both with an eye to economy
and excellence. In its neighborhood is good
shooting and fishing — sports which Mr. Webster
was very fond of, and it was here, dressed in a
free and easy style, he gave himself up to all the
prompting;^ of the place. A visit to this farm is
no small gratihcation to all admirers of this great
statesman. It is now invested with a peculiarly
solemn interest. The engraving below gives a
view of the room in which he breathed his last.
The circumstances attending the closing scene
were marked by a sad and tender feeling. When
the announcement was made to him, on Satur-
day eve, that his last hour was fast approaching,
he calmly requested that the memliers of his fa-
mily might be called in, individually to whom he
addressed a few words of farewell and religious
consolation. Then, after a little while, as if
speaking to himself, he said ; " On the 24th of
October all that is mortal of Daniel Webster will
be no more.*' He now prayed in his usual voice,
strong, full and clear, ending with : " Heavenly
Fatlier, forgive my sins, and receive me to Thy-
self, through Jesus Christ." Repeatedly, in the
course of the forenoon and the early part of the
afternoon, he conversed freely and with great
clearness of detail in relation lo his private af-
fairs. In reference to his funeral, he left explicit
orders that his remains he entombed upon his
farm at Marshfield, and that they be followed to
their final resting place by his family and neigh-
bors. He also desired that the services be per-
formed by the parish clergyman. He wished for
no pomp or display. From the dawn of Satur-
day evening to ten o'clock, the great man failed
rapidly. Arousing from a lethargy at ten o'clock,
his countenance became animated, and his eye
flashed with its usual brilliancy, he exclaimed :
" I STILL Live !" and immediately sunk into a
state of tranquil unconsciousness. Those were
the last words of Webster. His breathing now
became fainter, and his strength seemed entirely
prostrate. He lingered in this condition until
twenty-two minutes to three o'clock, Sunday
morning, the 24th ult., when the spirit returned
to its God, — and Daniel Webster was no more!
His bedside was surrounded by his son. Fletcher,
Mr. and Mrs. Paige, Mr. Harvey, Mr. Leroy,
Edward Curtis, Esq., Mr. Thomas, Mr. Apple-
ton, Doctors Warren and Jeffries, Mr. Abbot
and George T. Curtis. A few moments after he
had expired, Mrs. Webster entered the room to
gaze upon the lifeless remains of her beloved
partner. The scene is beyond description. Her
grief found utterance in the most exquisitely
agonizing tones of sorrow.
REPRESENTATION OF THE ROOM IN WHICH MR. WEBSTER DIED.
AND TKEMONT SIS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1852.
'^o'c^T^ Ii°n'gTe^} Vol. HI. No. 21.-Whole No. 73.
BIRTHPLACE OF GENERAL WARREN,
The scene below is a faithful picture of the
birthplace of General Warren, who fell in the
Revolution, at the battle of Bunker ( Breed's ) Hill,
in Charlesto^vn. The artist, who sketched the
picture, took the original drawing in 1843, upon
the spot; and the picture exhibits the old home-
stead in its somewhat dilapidated condition, as
it appeared at that period. The site is now oc-
cupied by a fine modern building of freestone (of
which we last year published a drawing in the
Pictorial), and tlie representation below will be
readily recognized by thousands who remember
the old " Warren House," upon Warreu Street,
in the present city of Roxbury. The fine old
elm in the foreground, and the rugged poplars
at the north, still grace this beautiful spot — one
of the finest situations in the counti-y- These
ancient " landmarks " are, to our mind, subjects
of great interest, and our artist, Mr. Burnham,
could hardly have chosen a better subject for his
very perfect pencil. Our readers will thank us
for the picture, and especially will our friends in
Roxbury regard it with more than passing inter-
est. Perhaps a few lines recapitulatory of Gen.
Warren's life will not be inappropriate here.
Major-General Warren was bora in Roxbury, in
1740, and graduated at Harvard College in 1759.
He studied modiciue under Dr. Lloyd, and in a
few years became one of the most eminent phy-
sicians in Boston. From 1768, he was a princi-
pal member of a secret caucus in Boston, which
exerted very great influence upon the political
affairs of the count ly. It was through his means
that Hancock and Adams were seasonably ad-
vertised of their danger, while at Lexington, on
the evening of the 18th of April. Pour days pre-
vious to the battle of Bunker's height's, he received
his commission of major general. On the memo-
rable I7th of June, he was killed in the retreat.
VIEW OF THE OLD WARREN HOUSE, AT ROXBURY, MASS.
322
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
oiiiiii?iii2i §miiM m I
mmm ]^mM i^iKm.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year 1852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's Oifice of the
District Court of MaBsachusotts.
[wniTTBN EXPHESSLT FOB GI/EASON'B nOTOniAL.]
-OE,
THE SIGH OF THE MYSTIC
A Talc ©f tlac Camp and Co!u1 of Bonaparte.
BY B. PERLEY POORE.
[continued.]
CHATTEH IX— [CONTINTIED.]
" And tills young Mahometan'?'*
" Is just the object for a true woman to love.
Masculine and regular in limb and feature, with
a bold, flashing eye, a clear lip, and an entire
absence of prcttiness, he is one of nature's noble-
men. Josephine Bonaparte, who must know
that her jealous Corsican has sent him to watch
over her doings, -will evidently try to ensnare
him, but I will woo the young eaglet from her
wiles, or sacrifice him." Then, looking at her
watch, she continued: "But it is getting late,
and my coachman may get into dithculty if day-
break reveals his rich livery."
"Perhaps, madarae, yet this is not the first
time you have been in the haunts above ground."
" Ah, my dear count, you forget ! Was it not
a compact, that you should never inquire how it
happened that I was recognized by the landlady
above stairs. You men talk about female curi-
osity, yet — "
" Pardon, madame. I was indiscreet, and
■will not again be inquisitive. Can yon attend
to some messages to-morrow ?"
" Certainly. And now, good-day."
The count escorted his visitor to the door,
where they parted with ceremonious salutations
more worthy of a palace than a charnel-house.
Hastily ascending the steps, Madame de Val-
mont was let out into the kitchen, and then,
rapidly passing through the lodging-house, she
walked to her carriage. The driver was fast
asleep on his box, and before he could descend,
his mistress had opened the door of the vehicle,
and was getting In.
" Never mind, Pierre," she said, *' I can close
the door on the inside. Drive home as fast as
possible."
It was very dark, for daybreak was at hand,
and as the horses started forward, it was impos-
sible to see a foot before one's face. Throwing
herself back into a corner of the carriage, the
bold conspirator rejoiced in the good-working of
her vengeance. And what darling passion ven-
geance is 1 Love, ambition, lust, ])ridc, avarice
— all pale before tlie brightness of ils fires. To
foster it, even gentle women will do violence to
their natures — be hypocrites — fawn upon those
whose heart's blood they could drink — cringe to
those upon whom they could trample — nay, pro-
fess friendship for those, to insure wliose ever-
lasting torments they would tliemselves forfeit
eternal salvation. Such is vengeance. Such was
the secret fountain which fed the reservoir within
Madame de Valmont's heart, and moved the
machinery of her every action. The hopedfor
result was the disgrace of Josephine Bonaparte,
and as the proud beauty reposed in the corner of
Iier carriage, her imagination painted her Creole
rival crushed and despised.
But the dream was suddenly interrupted. The
triumpli — imaginary as it was — was of brief du-
ration. A word rang in the car of the guilty
schemer, and in an instant her imaginary triumph
faded into ashes — her exultant joy sank into
hopeless terror. And that word was :
" Zelia !"
It was her own name ! It was spoken in the
carriage where she had fancied herself alone !
It was pronounced in a well-known tone !
She shrieked frantically to her coachman, hut
he beard her not, for sleep had possession of his
faculties, and he was urging his steeds home-
ward. The clatter of their hoofs and the rattling
of the swift- revolving wheels drowned her voice.
Then she heard those well remembered tones
again.
" Zelia. Be quiet l"
We have said that Madame de Valmont was
a widow — a wealthy widow, who revelled in the
dissipations of the French metropolis; but we
must now lift the veil from her past life. An
orphan, educated in a convent, she had attracted
the notice of Monsieur de Valmont, a rich banker,
who acted as financial agent to the nuns. Of
course, when he asked her hand, it was given
him, and the poor girl found herself, at a tender
age, the mistress of a noble mansion. For a
while, her husband idolized her, but gradually
he returned to his old associates, and his wife
found herself deserted for the society of opera-
dancers and adventurers. Then, when her heart
was wounded and lonely, she met Bonaparte, a
simple officer of artillery, but gifted with the
qualities which her imagination had painted.
Young, talented, affectionate, he soon won her
heart without knowing it, and when he did sus-
pect it, he at once avoided her society. Again
the poor woman was alone — uncared for — un-
loved. Then came another officer, beneath
whose fascination she fell. For a while, her hus-
band, intent upon bis own pleasures, did not
suspect his wife's infidelity. But, lured on by
her gay deceiver, she soon forgot herself, and
when Monsieur de Valmont's eyes were opened,
it was too late.
Then, and not until then, did she ascertain her
husband's affection, and her deceiver's unworthi-
ness. The latter, having received a post in the
staff of Bonaparte (now general), coolly threw
off the weeping woman who had sacrificed all
for him, and laughed when she recalled his vows.
But tlic husband — the wronged, confiding hus-
band, when he heard of her desertion, sought
her out, restored her to her conjugal rights, and
showed a disposition to forget the past. Just
then, death called him home. His widow in-
herited his fortune, and with her recollections of
his forgiving kindness was blended a hatred of
the man who had made her unworthy of it.
There was a jealousy, too, of Josephine, who
had captivated her heart's first love.
" Speak, Zelia, you must know me."
Was it a dream ? No ! Just then, the car-
riage passed the guard-liouse at the Louvre, and
as the light flashed in at the carriage-window,
the terrified woman saw a well known figure on
the front seat.
"Monster!" she exclaimed, "is that you V
" Yes, my pretty Zelia, it is I. I am just
fiom Egypt — in disguise — a disgraced, ruined
man, thirsting for revenge. Business carried
me first to the Count do Vergenncs, and I little
thought that the fine lady who entered as I left,
was you. But tlic sentinel so informed me, and
finding your carriage here, I quietly took a seat
in it."
" O, why can you not leave me in peace 1"
" Leave you ? By no means. Listen. When,
years ago, you first received my attentions, it
was merely to excite Bonaparte. You hoped to
make the Corsican jealous, and sought to use
me as your tool. But I turned the tables on
you. And now, I am a refugee. I seek an asy-
lum, and assistance. AVho is more bound to
give it me than Zelia de Valmont, the companion
of former days — the mother of my cbikl !"
Every word fell like molten lead upon the
brain of the poor woman, who so suddenly
found herself dependent belbre the will of a man
whom she despised.
CHAPTEIl X.
AN INTKItKBTINO HIBTOUY.
TriE fatigue of the rapid journey, added to
the excited state of his mind, threw Osmanli into
a higii fever, and for five long weeks Madame
Wilmot watched over him with motherly care.
Bound to the young Mameluke Ity one of those
mysterious threads woven into the woof of life,
she ministered to his every want, and hovered
around Iiis delirious couch with angelic devotion.
It was not strange, then, that she won the young
man's heart, and as he became convalescent, he
was made happy by her unohtrusive cheerful-
ness of manner, and by the habitual content of
licr pure and generous spirit. Iler personal ap-
pearance was very attractive. The features were
east in a noble and expressive mould — the fore-
head evincing a fine capacity for deep thought,
the eyes fervent and mellow, and a general
sweetness diffusing itself over the whole coun-
tenance, indicative of the highest moral and in-
tellectual cultivation, qualified by a nature of the
tenderest benevolence.
Osmanli soon loved her devotedly, not with
that deep, pure and holy feeling which can link
youth with age. Her excellence stole upon his
heart, like the light of a balmy summer's morn-
ing after a stormy night, and slie repaid his
confiding friendship by elevating his thoughts to
the sublime consolations of the Christian religion.
This did not at all please the surgeon in at-
tendance, who, like most French officers, was a
professed infidel. He saw with regret the grad-
ual change in his patient's opinions, and found
that ridicule only hastened what he wished to
prevent. So he reported Captain Osmanli as
convalescent, but in need of salt-water baths, and
Captain Osmanli was at once ordered by the
city-major to repair to Dieppe, bathe during a
month, and then report for duty. This was an-
noying to the young convert, and he was almost
tempted to resign his commission. But what
could he do '? So, with a sad heart, he said,
" Au recoir" to his kind hostess, paid a farewell
call to Madame Bonaparte (who was not at
home), and left.
Four long, long weeks passed away, during
which Osmanli entirely regained his health.
And so anxious was he to see Madame Wilmot,
that he persuaded the commandant of the gam-
son at Dieppe to send him to Paris with de-
spatches, two days before the expiration of his
forced furlough. Arriving in the metropolis,
where he had anticipated a cordial welcome, he
was told that Madame Wilmot had gone.
" Where V
" To America, captain," replied the porter.
"America !"
" Yes, captain. A message, proba])ly, of great
importance, made her suddenly decide to leave,
yesterday afternoon. But she expected to have
seen you at Dieppe, I know, sir, for she sent me
to the city-major's to ascertain your address
there. And I told her, as they told me, that you
would not leave there until to-morrow."
This was a sudden damper upon Osmanli's
hopes, and he wished that he had not been in
such a hurry to leave. He then repaired to
Madame Bonaparte, where he met with a flatter-
ing reception.
" So, you have lost your hostess," said Jose-
phine.
" Unluckily," replied Osmanli. " Can you
tell me why she left so suddenly?"
" Yes, and no ! To tell you what I can, will
be to recount her eventful history, and the love
she has ever cherished for her savage bride-
groom— ■"
" Savage bridegroom !" interrupted Osmanli.
" Was the portrait in the room where I slept that
of Monsieur Wilmot V
" Wore he the eagle's claws as a necklace V
"Ay — and his look was noble and stem."
" It was a portrait of Captain Wilmot — or, to
give him his true name and title, Miantomah,
chief of the Clicrokees."
" The Cherokees V
" So are called a tribe of American savages,
who reside on the southern borders of the new
I'epublic across the ocean. Before their revolu-
tion, Miantomah was sent by the governor of the
province of Georgia to England. There he was
carefully educated, under the patronage of King
George, and his strong intellect gave rare prom-
ise of distinction. But just as he entered the
University of Oxford, he accidentally met with
your recent hostess, whose fatlicr was in Lon-
don, as secretary to the French ambassador.
Ambition, learning, fiime — everything was for-
gotten by the young chieftain, and his untamed
lieart tln-ohbed with wild afTection for the grace-
ful young French girl. His guardians, ignorant
of his love, thought that he pined for his forest
wilds, or that hiii bruin had been overtaxetl, so
they introduced him into the depraved gaycties of
the English court. The king created liim a cap-
tain of his gentlemen-at-arms, giving him the
name of his lord-treasurer, and no party was
considered successful unless honored by the pres-
ence of Captain Wilmot. A necklace of eaglc'u
claws was the sole relic of his former garb, and
his fine stately figure, arrayed in uniform, shone
conspicuously among the pride of England's
chivalry.
"But whilst he mingled in the dance, and lis-
tened to music's entrancing strains, his heart
was in the humbler lower parlor of tlie French
legation. Nor had he a spare half hour, that
was not passed with Melanie, before whose an-
gelic nature his stout heart melted into blissful
peace. Months passed, and then the French
ambassador removed to a beautiful countrj'-seat,
where he invited Captain Wilmot to visit him.
The invitation was eagerly accepted, and now
the lover had frequent opportunities of meeting.
At last, without counsel or advice, they were
married — fatal error — not with the religious
forms of civilized life, but in accordance with
the customs of the Cherokees. Standing by the
margin of a running stream, they clasped hands,
and called upon the Great Spirit to blend their
lives, and to let them float down the waters of
time. Then Melanie, baring her feet, stepped
into the water, filled a cup, and handed it to her
future lord. He drank — then, clasping her to
his bosom, greeted her as his wife."
"And was he not faithful?" asked Osmanli,
who had listened in eager suspense.
" His life was devoted to her, and although it
was judged best to keep the matter a profound
secret, until Miantomah could return to his peo-
ple, yet Melanie enjoyed much of his society.
At last, he came one day with a troubled coun-
tenance. A messenger had arrived from his
people, and had brought him a mysterious snake-
skin, wrought with the quills of the porcupine in
peculiar devices. It was a summons not to be
resisted ! His tribe was about to declare war
against the Choctaws, and he was imperatively
called home to head the warriors. The British
colonial government, with its customary cunning,
had fomented the war among its savage neigh-
bors, and Miantomah felt bound to return. In
a few days, with many a vow, and many a prom-
ise to return, the young chieftain left. Weeks
passed — months passed — and his bride was point-
ed at as one depraved and fallen. In vain did
she protest that she was married — she was mock-
ed and scorned. And when, after the agony
was over, she asked for her babe, she was told
that it was dead. Poor Melanie ! Her father,
who really loved his child, began to repent of his
cruelty, and endeavored to win her back into her
former joy ousness- Vain attempt! Her thoughts
were across the ocean, although she knew not
v/hether her husband lived — her love was with
her child, although she knew not where that child
was buried."
" And has she never heard from her husband ?"
asked Osmanli, who was deeply interested by
the recital.
" Never a word. Year after year rolled on.
Her father brought her back to Paris. The
American Revolution destroyed all connection
between that continent and England — our revo-
lution destroyed everything here, and vainly has
my friend sought tidings of her lost chief. Her
father perished on the scaffold, and it was when
imprisoned in the Bastile that I learned the story
of her woes. Each of us then expected that the
axe would soon terminate our lives, and it was
her dying charge that — if I escaped the fury of
the sanguinary tempest, I should never forget
her desire to cstablisli her character, and to as-
certain the fate of her child."
"But," interrupted Osmanli, "did you not
say that it was dead !"
" I said, that they told her it was dead. Yet,
with that true affection only found in a mother's
heart, she refuses to credit it. The woman with
whom she was placed wlien the babe first saw
light, was a depraved creature, and my friend
always hopes that her child lives. Tlirough
Bonaparte's intercession she has obtained her
father's confiscated estate, and has taken tho
name of her husband. Tho portrait of him
wliicli 3'^ou saw in her liouse was painted in Eng-
land, by a French artist, and fell into her hands
about a year ago, by a mere chance. AVatkitig
in the street, she recognized it in tho window of
a fnriiilui-o broker, of wlioni she purclmscd it.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
323
The possession of this picture has hut strength-
ened her belief that she will yet ±ind her son."
This romantic talc was here interrupted by
the entrance of a small, ill-faced man, dressed
with scrupulous neatness, and looking continu-
ally about with small, piercing eyes. After ex-
changing salutations, he handed Josephine a
written report. She glanced over its contents,
her face flushing as she read, and at last ex-
claimed, in an indignant tone :
" So — so ! Monsieur Fouche, you have my
thanks. You have tracked the fox to her den,
and it seems that these new plots against my
husband come from a disappointed, jealous
woman."
" Madame Bonaparte," interrupted the wily
chief of police, in an entreating tone, and with
an inquiring glance towards Osmanli.
" Never fear him, sir. He has saved General
Bonaparte's life, in Egypt, and can do it again
here in France, if necessary. Are you not ready,
gallant Osmanli ?"
" My life is devoted to General Bonaparte,"
was the manly reply ; and as he spoke, Osmanli
made a sign, which Eouche's quick glance at
once comprehended. He saw that the young
Oriental was his brother, and was worthy of his
esteem. Returning the sign, he turned towards
Josephine, and remarked :
" I have the fullest confidence, madame, in
your protege. Nay, I will vouch for his conduct
if you have any doubt."
" Bravo !" exclaimed Josephine. " Why,
captain, you must be a magician, for you have
won at sight the esteem of Napoleon, and the
confidence of Fouchc. But now mark 1 Do
you remember Madame Valmont, whom you
once met here ? A dashing, fine-looking young
widow, who wished to entertain yon."
" I do. But I assure you that I have little
fancy for such fashionable dames."
" Listen. That woman once presumed to love
General Bonaparte, and tormented him with her
fawning passion. His noble heart, spurning
such base alliances, turned from her with dis-
gust, but she would not be repulsed, nor did she
cease annoying him until I became his bride.
Then, she professed entire resignation, congratu-
lated me with apparent sincerity, and I was at
last induced to admit her to my acquaintance.
Fool that I was. For I now have positive as-
surance that this hypocritical friend is plotting
against my husband's life."
" Why not arrest her V asked Osmanli.
" Spoken like a true child of the desert," re-
plied Josephine. Everything is as plain as day,
but were I to call upon Monsieur Fouche for his
proof, he would shrug up his shoulders and re-
fuse it. Many an aristocratic name figures upon
his roll of secret spies, but few of them would
testify to their reports in a court of justice, for
that would brand them as common informers.
No ! Ton — you must turn aside the blow, and
if you really respect Napoleon, I know you will
not refuse me V
" But how V
"Listen. Ton must see that woman as often
as you can. You must keep your eyes and your
ears open. Note whom she associates with and
where she goes — who visits her and whom she
visits. And if you will but report all to our
good friend Fouche here, he will soon unravel
the mystery."
" Really, Madame Bonaparte," observed the
functionary, "I could not have given better in-
structions myself. Who would have thought
that you possessed such talents in our line'?"
*' Whatever threatens my husband," was the
reply, "interests me. But I must dress to re-
ceive company, and so, gentlemen, adieu until
we meet again. I leave Madame de Valmont,
captain, in your charge."
And the gentlemen left. Osmanli, excited by
what he had heard, paced for hours beneath the
shady trees of the Tuileries, but his tlioughts
were not of his new mission. Some secret im-
pulse directed his attention to Madame Wilmot,
her savage bridegroom, her lost child. And 0,
ho^v happy, he thought, would be the child who
could have such a mother.
CHAPTER XL
A DESPERATE AND SUCCESSFUL RUSE.
General Bonaparte, meanwhile, ruled over
Egypt, where he was equally beloved for his
clemency and feared for his prowess. City after
city surrendered, town after town opened its
gates, tribe after tribe came in from their desert
homes with trailing spears, and all acknowledged
tlio supremacy of French rule. Amid the enig-
matical ruins of Thebes, or on the sacred shores
of Palestine — m the fertile gardens that fringed
the Nile, or on the burning sands of the un-
tracked desert, naught, save the plague, impeded
the conqueror's triumphant progress.
But Ms happiest hours were passed at Grand
Cairo, in listening to the fascinating vocalization
of Judith Fezenzac. Soul-wrapt in song, she
soon tempered her wonderful natural gifts by a
purity of intonation and chastity of style, and
even the stern soldier would applaud with de-
light, as she poured forth notes fresh as those of
the lark, when he soars aloft to meet the morn-
ing sun. Every note was carefully rendered,
yet her voice guslied forth wnth an exultant
bound of freedom, like a mouniain torrent, bub-
b'ing from its pellucid source. And it was her
heart-hope that the night would come, when she
could hold a vast audience spell-bound, as she
sang some master-piece, supported by choral
and instrumental accompaniments.
Month after month passed, and at last Bona-
parte informed Judith that she must prepare to
start for Paris, accompanied by her music-master.
This was glad tidings, yet she could but regret
to part with one who had evinced such paternal
fondness for her, and who promised to watch
over her professional career. Giving her letters
to Josephine, and to many influential friends at
Paris, he bade her good-by, and she found her-
self once more afloat upon the majestic Nile.
But how diff'erent her situation from what it was
when she ascended. Then, she was a slave,
enduring the agony of suspense, and fearing a
fate worse than death — now, the favored protege
of a victorious general, she was on her way to
win honor in the field of song.
At Alexandria, Judith embarked upon the
" Republique," a staunch gun-brig, which had
managed, thus far, to escape I^ord Nelson's
cruisers. The ofiicers were gentlemanly, agree-
able companions, nor was Bonaparte's letter ne-
cessary to inspire them with a profound esteem
for their fair passenger. The first few days of
the voyage were delightfully pleasant, but little
wind ruilling the surface of the calm Mediterra-
nean, and nothing occurring to interrupt the
amusements on the quarter-deck, or the varied
occupations of the crew. But on the aftenaoon
of the fifth day the scene was changed.
The wind was nearly aft, and the " Repub-
lique," with all sails out, moved majestically
along under her pyramid of snowy canvass.
" Sail ho !" sung out the man at the mast-head,
and reported a cutter on the larboard bow, under
English colors.
Soon, the officers could see her with their
glasses, and all agreed that it was a beautiful
craft, although her masts and sails seemed
strangely out of proportion to her hull.
" Ease away the braces," said the captain ;
" bring her nearer the wind, quartermaster. Beat
to quarters !"
And at the rapid notes of the drum the men
hastened to their guns, to prepare for combat.
The ports were triced up, the train tackles rig-
ged, tompions were taken out, and match-tubs
made ready. Fires were extinguished, the mag-
azine was screened, and the gunner's crew made
their preparations for passing cartridges. Bulk-
heads were taken down, and Judith's pretty
cabin vanished like a fairy palace. And mean-
while the sail-trimmers had been busy aloft,
reeving preventer slings, lashing the boarding
nettings, and making everything secure.
At first, the strange craft evidently endeavored
to escape, but, with her disproportionate sails,
she could not evade the "Republique." All at
once, when the distance between the vessels had
diminished to about half a mile, the light sails
of the cutter were taken in, and the courses
hauled up.
To the French captain, the cutter had been a
mystery, owing to her peculiar rig, and he had
taken every precaution, lest there should be some
stratagem concealed in the beautiful hull. He
now politely requested Judith and her teacher to
retire below, where they would be out of danger.
Then, getting in all his light sail, he fired an
unshotted gun.
Let us now see what was going on aboard the
other vessel, which was the Albatross, re-fitted
at Rhodes, and on her way to England with de-
spatches from Lord Nelson. Jack Norman,
when the French brig first hove in sight, saw
that it would be impossible to escape, and he
laid a desperate plan of action. His crew num-
bered thirty men, fierce, desperate fellows, most
of them old iraugglers, who now saw that im-
plicit obedience was their only hope of escape
from a French prison.- ■
Wliile Iiis opponent was preparing to capture
him by a COM/) (fe main, Norman had his hands
busily occupied in flooding the magazine, and
then spiking the starboard guns. Those on the
larboard side were loaded with grape shot, and
a man stood by each, with spike and hammer,
ready to disable it for action in a moment after
it had discharged its death-dealing contents.
Every man had his boarding cutlass at his side,
pistols in his belt, and a pike at hand.
On came the French brig, her bulwarks crowd-
ed with men, and passing under the stern of the
Albatross, he rounded to, and threw out his
grapnels. Another moment, and as the 3'ards
of the two vessels clanked together, the brig
towering over the cutter as if to crush her, Nor-
man's clear voice shouted :
" Fire ! Then away !"
And the blaze was followed by the crash of
shot, entering the planks of the Frenchman, and
echoed by shrieks.
'' Avancez!" shouted the French captain, and,
followed by the unharmed of his crew, he leaped
on board the Albatross.
But he found no enemy to combat. Norman,
followed by his crew, had boarded the French
vessel by the stern, as her crew left the bows,
and immediately began to cast oif the grapnels.
The astonished Frenchmen, the moment they
comprehended their error, endeavored to return
to their vessel, but in vain. Norman and his
resolute crew, having mastered the few on board,
were able to defend the side, and the vessels
soon surged apart. Then, manning the guns,
the delighted Englishmen poured broadside after
broadside into their late craft, which the French
were vainly endeavoring to get before the wind.
But the cut rigging and spiked cannon showed
so plainly that they were victims of a cunning
plan, that the French crew refused to work. In
vain did the captain urge and then threaten them.
Their courage, their hope, their confidence in
him were gone.
Maddened to desperation at the sight of his
fine vessel sailing proudly away from him, whilst
his crew refused to aid in recovering her, the
French captain left the deck. A few moments
more, and a lurid flame gleamed up through the
hatchways of the cutter, followed by cries of de-
spau* and agony, for the Frenchmen saw that one
of two dreadful deaths was inevitably to be their
lot. The flames burned with terrific brilliancy,
and it was easy to see by the heavy roUing of
the cutter that she was water-logged. At length
the flames reached the magazine, and although
the powder had been flooded, the explosion sent
up a huge column of fragments — then, all was
still. The French captain had buried himself
and his disgrace in a watery grave. Norman
hove to, and lowered a boat, but every man had
perished.
Judith, immured below, had plainly heard the
din of the tumult. The tearing and splintering
of the cutter's broadside — the collision of the two
vessels — the sharp report of small arms, as the
French boarders were repelled from their own
vessel — and then the terrific explosion. All had,
in turn, heightened her fears, while her poor
teacher, upon his knees, vowed offerings to half
the saints in the calendar in case of deliverance.
At last, all was quiet again, and then the wel-
come form of the cabin-boy was seen descending
the ladder.
" Ah ah !" exclaimed the teacher, " all is well,
my brave lad ! Can I not leave my pupil and
aid in defending the vessel V
" Hu.sh !" whispered the boy, "weai'eims-
oners."
" Prisoners !" ejaculated the cowardly Italian,
and falling on his knees again, here-commenced
his devotions. But Judith, with that womanly
courage that is ever I'eady in a case of real emer-
gency, inquired into the particulars of the com-
bat. Her pallid cheek flushed as the boy went
on with his narrative, but all at once a happy
thought seemed to strike her. She remembered
Osmanli — her rescue from the harem — and the
ring she wore. Drawing it from her finger, she
sent it to the new commander of the "Repub-
lique," with a hope that the talisman might be
recognized.
The boy left, and the agonized suspense of the
poor girl can be easier imagined than described.
But he soon returned, accompanied by Jack
Norman, to whose dashing features victory had
imparted a pleasing look. Norman, whilst en-
gaged in smuggling from France, had acquired
a smattering of ihe language, and he lost no
time in quieting her fears.
"The daughter of a brother," he said, "is
ever safe,'' and in an hour's time Judith was re-
installed in her cabin, while the Republique,
under English colors, " walked the waters like
a thing of life." The fortress of Malta was visi-
ble the nest morning, but Jack Norman thought
it best to continue his course direct for England.
Never was there a captain prouder of his vessel
— never was there a crew more attached to their
commander. Loud laughter and merry songs
rang over the decks from morning to night,
sometimes ^cquered by erudite calculations as
to the probable value of each share of the prize
money. On one point, however, all agreed.
Each man resolved to give one half of what he
received to Captain Norman — the originator and
the leader of their success.
It was rather amusing to witness honest Jack's
attempts to play the host, and do the honoi-s of
the cabin to his fair passenger. To show her
appreciation of his kindness, she endeavored to
harmonize some of the rude ditties trolled forth
upon the forecastle, and he was enthusiastic in
his praise when she thus rendered "Black-Eyed
Susan."
" 'Tis worth," he said, " all the foreign lingo
in the world, and coming from your sweet mouth,
it sounds like the boatswain's whistle when the
enemy is in sight."
The passage to England was a pleasant one,
and nothing occurred to mar the harmony and
rejoicing on board the captured vessel. At last
the chalky cliffs of England were plainly visible,
and, passing the fertile island of Wight, Norman
steered boldly into Southampton roads. Often,
when on a smuggling expedition, he had stole
in, at the dead of night, seeking the friendly
shade of the high cliffs. But now, ti'eading the
quarter-deck of his prize with exultant pride, he
shortened sail with precise method, until the
Republique, under her topsails and jib, was
moving quietly along towards the outer mooring.
So well known was the vessel, that her ap-
proach was chronicled in the town, and on board
every ship in the anchored squadron, long before
she approached. The quays were covered with
spectators, and the bulwarks of the vessels were
crowded, all wondering what the noted French
cruiser was thus coming for, and with the Eng-
lish ensign at her mast- head. Soon a gun pealed
from the largest frigate, which bore a rear-
admiral's flag at the mizen, and three small balls
rose to her fore, where they fluttered out as sig-
nals. They were unintelligible to Jack Norman,
but knowing that he was over safe anchorage, he
had his canvass brailed up, and the Republique
soon lay safely moored. Then, ordering a boat
to be manned, he went on board of the flag-ship.
We shall not attempt to describe the enthusi-
astic greeting which Jack Norman received, or
the rejoicings which followed his arrival. But
the honest smuggler did not forget Judith, and
the admiral promised to send her to France by
the first ship bearing letters of marque. As for
Signor Quavero, her music-master, he assumed
half the glory of the capture, and Jack Norman
found him one night in the streets of Southamp-
ton, gloriously drunk, and relating his wonderful
exploits.
In a few days a vessel came from Dover, on
its way to Havi-e with prisoners to be exchanged.
Jack Norman, when he came to announce the
fact to Judith, brought her a ring similar to the
one she wore, which he asked permission to ex-
change for hers. But Judith no sooner saw it
than she shrieked :
"Where did you obtain this V
"From a passenger, mademoiselle, who gave
it to me as I was leaving Smyi-na with him in
the Albatross."
"And where is he V
"Alas, I fear he is drowned !"
The poor girl fell in a swoon, and when she
recovered her senses, she was again on ship-
board, and the white cliffs of England were fad-
ing into the distance. No language can paint
the wretchedness of that young mourner, as her
sufferings found utterance, and the sweet recol-
lections of her father's love melted into tears.
[to BE CONTINUED.!
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AUTUMN.
BY J. HUNT, JB.
The northern winds are sweeping o'er the plain,
The forest leaf is changed to red, and sere ;
The birds have left for warmer climes again,
And desolation marks the closing year.
The blighting frosts, and showers of steady rain,
Foretell to us the gloom of winter near ;
Fit emblem of oui- life when death shall come,
To freeze the blood, and hurl us to the tomb !
324
GLEASON'S PKJTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
THE AMERICAN RATTLESNAKE.
Closely rcsemlilin;; the vipt-r in appcnranco
and character, Imt t;rowiim' to u lenglli of'Hvc or
six feet, is the rattlesnake of America. This
reptile is one of the most dangerous of its family,
its bite, properly inflicted, hein^' sure to cniiso
the death of the lar^icst animal. It is totally
niiknown in the old world, and is readily distin-
pui-slied hv iis rattle, an instrument situated at
the tail extremity, and consisting,' of several
horny nicmhranous eclU, which rattle upon each
other when agitated by the animal, tflie rattle-
snake is of a tawny and black color aliove, and
ash-color beneath ; has a short and rather round
liead ; a lar^e protecting scale over each eye,
and long sharp-pointed fanps. It is slow in its
motions, inactive in its habits, and not readily
disturbed — features which luckily tend to lessen
tlie mischief whicli otherwise it would
be capable of inflicting. Its head is
broad, triangular, and generally flat
in its entire extent. Its eyes are very
brilliant, and provided withanicitat-
ing membrane ; the mouth very
large, the tongue forked at its ex-
treiniiy. Its body is robust, elonga-
tetl, cylindrical, covered above with
cariiiated scales. Its tail is short,
cylindrical, and somewhat lliick.
The number of the little bells which
terminate it, increases with age, an
additional one being formed at every
casting of the skin. These bells are
truncated, (luaiirangular pyramids,
received witliin each other in such a
manner that only a third part of eadi
is visible, the tip of every bone run-
ning within two of the bones below
it. Thus they are united by a kind
of ball and socket joint, and move
with a rattling sound whenever the
animal agitates its tail. The noise
resembles that made by rumpled
parchment, or two quills of a goose
rubbed smartly against each other.
The poison fangs are traversed by a
canal for the emission of the poison.
These fangs, when not used, rem;un
concealed in a fold of the gum ;
when the animal bites, the fangs are
raised. Tliey are two in number,
one at each end of the upper jaw.
The effects of the poison of course
depend much upon the season of the
year, the age and strength of the
reptile, and the part struck ; hence
numerous cases are on record of in-
dividuals recovering in a few weeks
from the bite of a rattlesnake. It is
also found by experiment, that the
elfect of subsequent wounds is greatly
diminished, either by the diminution
of the quantity of venom, or by some
deterioration of its strength ; so that
if a venomous serpent be made re-
peatedly to inflict wounds, without
allowing sufliciently long intervals
for it to recover its powers, each
successive bite becomes less and less
dangerous. " A gentleman of my
acquaintance," says the author of
British Reptiles, " had, some years
ago, received a living rattlesnake
from America. Intending to try the
effects of its bite upon some rats, he
introduced one of these animals into
the cage with the serpent ; it imme-
diately struck the rat, which died in
two minutes. Another rat was then
placed in the cage ; it ran up to the
part farthest fi'om the serpent, utter-
ing cries of distress. The snake did
not immediately attack it ; but after
half an hour, and on being irritated,
it struck the rat, which did not ex-
hibit any symptoms of being pois-
oned for several minutes, and died
twenty m inutes after the bite. A
third and remarkably large rat was
then introduced. It exhibited no
sign of terror at its dangerous com-
panion, which on its part, appeared
to take no notice of the rat. After
watching for the rest of the evening,
my friend retired, leaving the serpent
and the rat together. On rising
early the next morning to ascertain
the fate of his two heterogeneous
prisoners, he found the snake dead,
and the muscular part of its hack
eaten by the rat. I do not remem-
ber at what time of the year this cir-
cumstance took place, hut I believe
it was not during very hot weather."
All the species of rattlesnake are
confined To America; and the indi-
viduals of this genus have diminished in propor-
tion to the increase of population. Bartram
says, that he has seen some rattlesnakes as thick
as a man's thigh, and more than six feet long.
"When the winter is rigorous, the riittlcsnakes
pass some time in a lethargic state, near the
sources of rivers, in covert places, where the
frost cannot reach them. They bury themselves
thus, before the autumnal equinox, after they
have changed their skin, and do not emerge
until after tlie vernal equinox. Mi ny of them
are often found together in the sane hole. Till
the month of July, their bile is <omparatively
harmless. At Cayenne, and in the hot latitudes,
they are in constant activity all tl e year. They
arc viviparous, and can live a lo] g time. Some
have been mentioned as havii g forty or fifty
pieces in their rattles, and being from eight to
ten feet in length. They have great tenacity of
life.
THE PROPHECY OF THE FLOWERS.
The very beautiful engraving, which we pre-
sent below, is entitled the " l^rophecy of tlie
Flowers." Both this and the picture on the op-
]iosite page, are from the famous artist, M. Vidal.
The picture below represents a girl consulting
the flower for a favoral)le angury of her love ;
the jiraciice is not wholly unknown in England,
but iirevflils more on the continent ; it ranks with
the many other little superstitions of the same
kind, that have furnished so many themes to
poetry and painting. Vidal is very popular in
England and this country; engravings frorn his
sketches are in almost every print-shop ; his fe-
male Hgures are remarkable for grace and sim-
plicity, with an originality of treatment, that
compensates for the absence of more elevated and
intellectual qualities. M. Vidal's beauties have
PILGRiniAGE TO MECCA.
At Cairo I had viewed the departure of the
caravan from the Iladi, as a Fpecics of public re-
joicing. The whole of the night, which preced-
ed the raising of the tents, the camp, resplendent
with the lij;ht of millions of lumps, and re-echo-
ing with the sounds of thousands of musical in-
struments, seemed the especial abode of mirth
aiul pleasure; and the ensuing morning, the pil-
grims, fresh and gay, full of ardor, and prancing
along the road, looked like a procession of the
eleci going to take possession of Paradise. Alas,
how different was the appearance of this same
caravan, after a long and fatiguing march across
the desert, on its arrival at Mecca ! Wan, pale,
and worn down with fatigue and thirst, incrusted
with a thick coat of dust and jierspiration, they
who composed it seemed scarcely able to crawl
THE PROPHECY OF THE FLOWERS.
elegance and reality possessed by no other living
arti\t, with the exception of Gavarni ; they recal
to the mind the celebrated girls' heads of Creuze.
Vidal executes in several crayons, a mode which
has become now as great a rage as it was in the
last century; but it has been much improved by
the discoveries of our modern water-color paint-
ers ; in fact, it might be termed a combination of
the two systems. Our readers will observe in
this and the picture on the opposite page a dif-
ferent style and effect of drawing and engraving
from that which is presented by the pictures
which our artists take froni nature in room of
paintings. If this difference be noted, the reader
will Hnd a matter of interest in the subject, inas-
much as it will thus present to him the art which
we so often exhibit in a different light. These
two engravings are very fine pictures from the
artist's works above referred to, and are fine sam-
ples of engravings taken from painting)^.
to the place of their destination. The end of
their journey looked like that of their earthly
existence ; or rather one might have fancied their
bodies already smitten by the spirit of the desert,
and their ghosts come disemltodie*! to accom-
plish their vow. Among the arrivals were some
of my Egyptian friends ; but their sufferings had
so altered them that they were obliged to sylla-
ble their names before I could recollect them.
One had almost lost his sight by the sand and
dust ; another preserved but a remnant of intel-
lect, and a third, in consequence of great fatigue
and constant alarms and fears, had become sub-
ject to spasmodic movements, and he held his
head fast by the ears to prevent its turning round
like a top. And all this evil and suffering was
endured from a mistaken idea of reli ions duty !
so extortionate are tlie pi'omptings of a con-
science unenlightened by the dictates of a pure
religious truth. — Eastern Travels.
FEATS OF MAGIC.
One of ihe most ancient feats of magic was
the art of breathing flume — an art which even
now excites the astonihhment of the vulgar.
I)uring the insurrection of the slaves in Sicily in
the second century before Christ, a Syrian named
Eunus ac(|uircd by liis knowledge the rank of
their leader. In order lo tf^tablish his influence
over their minds, he pretended to possess mi-
raculous power. A\ hen he wished to ins]>ire hia
followers with courage, he breathed fliimcs or
sparks among them from his mouth, at the same
time rousing them by liis eloquence. St. .Je-
rome informs us tliat llie Kablii Barchochebas,
who headed the Jews in their last revolt against
Hadrian, made them believe that he was the
Messiah, by vomiting flames from his month;
and at a later period, the Emperor Consiantiufl
was thrown into a state of alarm
when Valentinian informed him that
he had seen one of the bodyguarda
breathing out fire and flames. Wc
are not acquainted with the exact
methods by which these effects were
produced; but Floras informs us,
that Eunus fllled a perforated nut-
shell with sulphur and fire, and hav-
ing concealed it in his mourh, he
breathed gtntly through it while he
was speaking. This art is performed
more simply by the modern juggler.
Having rolled together some flax or
hemp, so as to form a ball the size
of a walnut, he sets it on fire, and
allows it to bum till it is nearly con-
sumed : he then rolls round ii'while
burning some additional flax, and
by these means the fire may be re-
tained in it for a considerable time.
At the commencement of his exhibi-
tion he intioduces the ball into his
mouth, and while he breathes through
it the fire is revived, and a number
of burning sparks are projected from
his mouth. These sparks are too
feeble to do any harm, provided he
inhales the air through his nostrils.
The kindred art of walking on burn-
ing coals or red-hot iron remounts to
the same antiquity. The priestesses
of Diana at Castabalain Cappadocia
were accustomed, according to Stra-
bo, to walk over burning coals ; and
at the annual festival, which was held
in the temple of Apcdlo on Mount
Soractein Etruria.theHirpi marched
over burning coats, and on this ac-
count they were exempted from mil-
itary service, and received other
privileges from the Roman senate.
This power of resisting fire was
ascribed even by Varro to the use of
some liniment with which they an-
ointed the soles of their feet. Of
the same character was the art of
holding red-hot iron in the hands or
between the teeth, and of plunging
the hands into boiling water or melt-
ed lead. About the close of the sev-
enteenth century, an Englishman of
the name of liichardson rendered
himself famons by chewing burning
coals, pouring melted lead npon his
tongue, and swallowing melted (ilass.
That these effects are produced part^
ly by deception, and partly by a pre-
vious preparation of the parts snl>-
jected to the heat, can scarcely admit
of a doubt. The fusible metal com-
posed of mercm"y, tin, and bismuth,
which melts at a low temperature,
might easily have been subslituted
in place of lead; and fluids of easy
ebullition may have been used in
place of boiling water. A solution
of spermaceti or sulphuric ether,
tinged with alkanet-root, which be-
comes solid at 50 - of Fahrenheit,
and melts and boils with the heat of
the hand, is supposed lo be the sub-
stance which is used at Naples when
the dried blood of St. Janarius melts
spontaneously, and boils over the
vessel which contains it. But even
when the fluid requires a high tem-
perature to boil, it may have other
properties, which enable us to plunge
our hands into it with impunity.
This is the case with boiling tar,
which boils at a temperature of 220
det;rees, even higher than that of
wjiter. Mr. Davenport informs us,
that he saw one of the workmen in
the king's dock-jard at Chatham im-
merse his naked hand in tar of that
temperature. He drew up his coat-
sleeves, dipped in his hand and wrist, bringing
out fluid tar, and pouring it off from his hand as
from a ladle. The tar remained in complete
contact with his skin, and he wiped it off' with
tow. Convinced that there was no deception in
the experiment, Mr. Davenport immersed the
entire length of his forefinger in the boiling cal-
dron, and moved it about a short time l)cfore the
heat became inconvenient. Mr. Davenport
ascribes this singnlar effect to the slowness with
which the tar communicates its heat, whicli he
conceives to arise from the abundant volatile
vapor wliich is evolved, "carrying ofl" rapidly
the caloric in a latent state, and intervening be-
tween the tar and the skin, so as to prevent the
moi'C rapid communication of heat. He con-
ceives also, that when the hand is withdrawn,
and the hot tar adhering to it, the rapidity with
which this vapor is evolved from the surface ex-
posed to the air cools it immediately. — Brewster,
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COIMPANION.
325
LAKE OF ALLIGATORS.
In that very entertaining work, ''Dry Leaves
from Younii: Ej^rypt," we tind the following? de-
scription of this interesting^ spot. " One of my
first exhibitions after rcachins; Karachi was a
'.-isit to the Magar Talao.as it i^ called, or Lake
of Allisators. This curious place is about eij^ht
miles from Karachi, and is well worth inspecting
to all who are fond of tho monstrous and gro-
tesque. A moderate ride through a sandy and
sterile track, varied with a few patches of jungle,
brings one to a grove of tamarind trees, hid in
the bosom of which lie the grisly brood of mon-
sters. Little would one, ignorant of the locale,
suspect that under that green wood, in tliat tiny
pool, which an active leaper could half spring
across, such hideous denizens are concealed.
'Here is the pool,' E said to my guide, rather
contemptuously ; ' Imt where are the
alliaators 1' At the same time I was
stalking on very boldly with head
erect, and rather inclined to flout the
whole affair, iiaao adanco. A sudden
hoarse roar or bark, liowever, under
my very feet, made me execute a pi-
rouette in the air with extraordinary
adroitness, and perhaps widi more
animation than grace. I had almost
stepped on a young crocodilian imp
about three feet long, whose bite,
small as he was, would have been
the reverse of pleasant. Presently
the genius of the place appeared in
the shape of a wizard-looking old
Fakir, who, on my presenting liim
with a couple of rupees, produced
his wand — in other words, a long
pole — and then proceeded to call up
his spirits. On his shouting ' Ao !
Ao !' (Come! come!) two or three
times, the water suddenly became
alive with monsters. At least three-
soorchuge alli<;ators, some of them
fifteen feet in length, made their ap-
pearance, and came thronging to the
shore. The whole scene reminded
me of fairy tales. The solitary wood,
the pool with its strange inmates, the
fakir's lonely hut on the hillside, the
fakir himself, tall, swart and gaunt,
the rubber -looking Biiuchi by my
side, made up a fantastic picture.
Strange, too, ihe control our show-
man displayed over his 'lions.' On
his motioning with the pole, they
stopped — indeed, they had already
arrived at a disafrreeable propinquity
— and on his calling out ' Baitho '
(sit down}, they lay flat on their
stomachs, grinning horrible obedi-
ence with their open and expectant
jaws. Some large pieces of flesh
were thrown to them, to get which,
they struggled, writhed and fought,
and tore the flesh into shreds and
gobbets. I was amused with the re-
s|>ect the smaller ones showed to
their overgrown seniors. One fel-
low, about ten feet long, was walk-
ing up to the feeding-ground from
the water, when he caught a glimpse
of one mucli larger just behind him.
It was odd to see the frightened look
with which he sidled out of the way,
evidently expecting to lose half a
yard of his tail before he could efi^cct
his retreat. At a short distance —
perhaps half a mile — from the Hrst
pool, I wtLS shown another, in which
the water was as warm as one could
bear it for complete immersion ; yet
even here I saw some small alliga-
tors. The fakirs told me these
brutes were very numerous in the
river, about fifteen or twenty miles
to the west. The monarch of the
place, an enormous alligator, to
whom the fakir had given the name
of ' Mor Sahih' (My Lord Mor),
never obeyed the call to come out.
As I walked round the pool, I was
shown where he lay, with his head
above water, immovalde as a log,
and for which I should have taken
him but for his small, savage eyes,
which glittered so that they seemed
to emit sparks. He was, the fakir
said, very fierce and dangerous, and
at lea>-t twenty feet in length."
These terrible animals are found in
the rivers and lagoons of our own
country as well as other pans of the
world, and an encounter with one of
them is fearful on account of its
great size and strength. It grows to
the length of fifteen or twenty feet,
is covered by a dense harness of homy scales,
impenetrable to a musket ball, except about the
head and shoulders, and has a huge mouth,
armed with a row of strong, unequal, conical
teeth, some of which shut into cavities of the
upper jaw-hone. They swim or dart along
through the water with wonderful celerity, im-
pelled by their long, laterally-eompi-essed and
powerful tails, which serve as very efficient oars.
On land, their motions are proportionally slow
and embarrassed, because of the length and im-
wieldiness of their bodies, the shortness of their
limbs, and the sort of small, false ribs which
reach from joint to joint of their necks, and ren-
der lateral motion very diffiLnilt. The alligator
is generally considered as disposed to retire from
man, but this is only to be understood of alliga-
tors frequenting rivers or waters where they are
often disturbed. In situations less visited by
man, they are very ferocious.
CURIOSITY.
The following verses explain the spirit of the
fine picture which wc present on this paije. It is
a su^^estive subject, and the readers of the Pic-
tortial will regard it with interest.
Betsey I art thou Eve's true daughter?
Betsy ! hast a peering eye 1
Wonldst thou read as clear as water
All the honeyed terms that lie
Within that letter's fragile folds —
Spell every word that letter holds.
And know when thy young master, Harry,
Or Lady Jane intends to marry 1
What! not yet in the secret, Betsy!
That's very puzzling — very ! Let's see —
The letter's not from Lady Jane.
No, no ! you need not peep again.
APPEARAXCE OF JOHN HANCOCK.
One who saw Hancock in June, 1782, relates
that he had the appearance of advanced aiie. He
had been repeatedly and severely afflicted with
tlie eout; probably owing in part to the custom
of drinking punch— a common practice in high
circles in those days. As recollected at this time.
Gov. Hancock was nearly six feet in height, and
of thin person, stooping a little, and apparently
enfeebled by disease. His manners were gra-
cious, of the old style, a dignified complaisance.
His face had been handsome. Dress was adapt-
ed quite as much to the ornamental as useful.
Gentlemen wore wig? when abroad, and com-
monly caps when at home. At this time, about
noon, Hancock was dressed in a red velvet cap,
within which was one of fine linen. The latter
was turned up over the lower edge of the velvet
CURIOSITY FROM A PAINTING BY M VIDAL.
A lady's hand — The envelope
Perfumed — The seal expresses " Hope."
The waiter waits — no longer tarry —
Go ! give the letter to Lord Harry.
Betsy ! St. Martin's — hi^ht Le Grand —
Might give thee a strong reprimand ;
For people say that there Sir
(We never like to mention names)
Punish'd the men who oped the letters,
Or of their worsers or their betters.
Yott ope no letters, Betsy ; but
Strive hard to read them while they're shut.
How long shall this most paltry vice
Be linked with woman's honored name f
Shall curiosity entice
The fair to libel their own fame
Forever? No ! The female mind
Looks down upon the " pelites^e."
Woman's pure spirit was designed
To trust, to comfort, and to bless.
one, two or three inches. He wore a blue damask
gown lined with silk, a white stock, a white satin
embroidered waistcoat, black satin small clothes,
white silk stockings and red morocco sIi])perK.
It was a general practice in genteel families to
have a tankard of punch made in the morning,
and placed in a cooler when the season required
it. At this visit, Hancock took from the cooler,
standing on the hearth, a full tankard, and drank
first himself, and then offered it to those present.
His equipage was splendid, and his apparel was
sumptuously embroidered with gold and silver,
and lace, and other decorations in use among
men of fortune of that period ; and he rode with
six beautiful hay horses, attended by servants in
livery. He wore a scarlet coat, with ruffles on
his sleeves. It is related of Dr. Natli.-.n Jacques,
of West Newbury, that he walked to Boston in
one day for cloth for a coat like that of Hancock,
and returned with it under his arm, on foot.
JOSEPHINE AETER HER DIVORCE.
The next morning at eleven, the divorced em-
press was to leave the palace of the Tuilleries,
to return to it no more. From the highest to
the lowest member of the household, all assem-
bled to witness the departure of her, who carried
all hearts with her into exile. Leaning on the
arm of one of her ladies, and so deeply veiled
that her countenance could not be seen, she de-
scended the stairway in silence too profound to
last ; for she had taken but a few steps before
there was an involuntary and simultaneous burst
of grief But she spoke not. The only response
she made to this touching language of grief from
those who loved her, was the shudder of the last
pang she was ever to feel in the imperial halls
where she had embellished the empire of Napo-
leon. She sank fainting into a close carriaf^e,
and the clatter of the feet of six
horses echoed coldly through the
court yard, as they bore her away
from that ancient palace. Several
months Josephine had now passed in
solitude and grief. Whatever Napo-
leon could do to mitigate the harsh-
ness of this severe stroke had been
done. A pension of six hundred
thousand dollars a year was settled
on her for life, and promptly paid
till Napoleon's fall. The magnifi-
cent villa of Malmaison, with all its
grounds and treasures of art and
beauty, with the ancient palace of
Navarre, were presented to her — and
her title of empress was confirmed.
She received frequent visits — " al-
most of homage" — from the mem-
bers of the Imperial Court; for it
was universally understood that Na-
poleon desired every token of respect
should be shown to his former wife.
Her villa presented a more animated
and brilliant spectacle than even
while Napoleon was its master. It
was frequented by the most illustri-
ous statesmen, scholars, artists and
men of taste of the empire. She was
universally respected, admired and
beloved, and her fall from the throne
seemed to clothe her with new splen-
dor. She still cherished her affec-
tion for Napoleon. Tlie apartment
he had occupied remained exactly as
he had left it; she would not sufier
even a chair to be moved, and, in-
deed, very rarely permitted any one
to enter. On his table was a volume
of history, with the page doubled
down where he had finished reading;
beside it lay a pen, with ink dried on
the point, and a map of the world,
on which he was accustomed to point
out his plans to those in his confi-
dence, and which still showed on its
surface many marks of his impa-
tience. These Josephine would not
allow to be touched on any account.
By the wall stood Napoleon's camp
bed, without curtains ; and above
continued to hang such of his arms
as he had placed there. On different
pieces of furniture were flung vari-
ous portions of apparel, just as he
had used them last; for, among his
other extraordinary ways, he had a
practice, on retiring to rest, of fling-
ing rather than taking oflT his clothes,
casting down a coat here, a vest
there, usually pitching his watcli into
the bed, and hii; hat and shoes into
the farthest comer of the apartment.
In devoting herself to the adornment
of the villa Malmaison, Josephine
displayed the most refined and artis-
tic taste. In the pannels were placed
fine engravings from Bible scenes,
and under each, a portrait of the dis-
tinguished generals of the Revolu-
tion. In the centre of the room there
was always to be a large flower-stand
filled with fresh flowers in their sea-
son, and in each angle, the bust of a
French philosopher. Her private
cabinet was to be in light blue, with
a border of ranunculus and polyan-
thus. Ten large engravings from
the gallery of the Muses, and twenty
medallions filled up the pannels.
The casements were painted white
and green, with double fillets of gold.
The first million of francs which Na-
poleon allowed Josephine from his
own purse, was expended in restor-
ing the castle of the ancient kings of
Navarre, which had been long neg-
lected, and nearly demolished in the
Revolution. Its immense park had once been
embellished by flowing streams, and gleaming
lakes; but the water courses had ceased to flow,
and the lakes had become stagnant marshes.
But Josephine soon made it wear a new aspect ;
the beds of the streams were cleared out, and
covered with white gravel ; the lakes were exca-
vated and fllled with fish; the old forest roads
were repaired, and fertility and beauty once
more embellished this ancient retreat of the
French monarchs. In these delightful engage-
ments phe was aided by the taste of the niopl
distinguished artists in France, and in her public
improvements Napoleon himself aided by his in-
genious and practical suggestions. Thus, grad-
ually, the heavy cloud which had so Jong hung
in blackness over her heavens, began to break
awav, and was dissolved by the balmy sunshine ;
and* her palace wore the a'^pect of hospitality
and refinement. — Napoleon Dynasly.
326
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAYflNG ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloiison's Pictorial.]
KAVOLEON.
DV CAROLrNH A. IIAYDEN.
Tho ship that lifis borao liim iiorOHfl tlio deep,
Ih noiiring now tho land ;
Who will Ko Ibrwiird in Knglaud's minio,
And Nupoleou'fl sword duuiand?
There's ii hush I cah it ho tliiit yo four him yot?
That before tho raRod uiiglo yo f|aail?
Or think yo that ngea unboru will bluah,
When they list to tlio shameful talo ?
Yo nro loyal and true, and your monarch's hroaHt
Was tlic hirthpJaco from whence it sprung ;
Wliy should a Bentunoe BO simple and brief,
In fiilenco cliain every tongue?
PeriFh tlie thought which ehall ^tamp disgrace
On the lips now doomed to break
A silence more eloquent far than words,
For Napoleon, and England's sake.
There 's a movement at last ! the insulting duuiand
Must be made, and who fitter than he ;
The highest in rank, tho flrot in command.
On the blue and heaving sea.
Perhaps it were better to stilie the thought.
That would question or ca\il still,
The motive of him who the maudate spoke,
Or the slave who obeyed his will.
" England demands your sword !"' Ye gods !
Saw ye that fl.tsbing eye ?
The ray that shot from its fiery orb,
Like lightning glancing by !
And saw ye the stern old admiral?
llow his boasted courage failed ;
And bow, 'ncath the blast of that withering scorn,
Ilis haughty spirit quailed?
Before hior the parting crowd give way.
They are answered without a word ;
And the conquering hero passes on.
His hand upon his sword 1
[Written for Oleason's Pictorial.]'
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. SI.
BY DK. JEKOME V. C. SMITH.
INSTITUTIONS OF KELIGION.
It is admitted without reservation, that the
Turlcs are religious bigots. The government is
predicated upon the revelations of the Koran.
Law, physic and divinity must accord to the sen-
timents of that singularly constructed volume,
or not exist in Turkey as they do in civilized
countries.
Every man believes implicitly in the divine
mission of Mahommed. There are no doubters ;
no hesitancy, but a firm reliance on the prophet.
There is a laxity, however, in some individuals,
and an excess of fervor in others. As a nation,
it is far more tolerant than any Christian coun-
try on the globe ; yet there are persons of such
fiery zeal, that, were they not restrained by fear of
the civil and military powers of the pashas, would
cut the thi'oats of every man, woman and child
who presumed to dilfer from them in opinion.
The elements of bigotry are precisely alike in
all climates. It is the first ambition of ignorant
and fanatic professors of any faith, to extermi-
nate those wlio differ from them in religious sen-
timents. The Turks, therefore, are no worse in
that respect, than others, more enlightened under
a loftier and lietter dispensation.
Moslem worshippers are subdivided by various
sects, who only differ from each other on certain
points, hut not so essential as to interfere with a
general harmony for the protection of the faith-
ful of all shades and gradations of belief.
It must suIHce for my purpose to introduce
. but two specimens of religious enthusiasts, leav-
ing all minor sects of Mahommedans without
mention, because they are comparatively tame
and uninteresting as characters.
All over Tmkey, and, in fact, wherever the
disciples of Mahommed have extended, the sect
known by the name of dervishes have been estab-
lished. They are in Egypt, and even in Cairo,
have a college with certain privileges, which are
recognized as important by the people. Before
the revolution in Greece, they were there also.
Thatbeautiful and universally admired structure,
belonging to a remote antiquity, a little north of
the Acropolis, the temple of the winds, was in
tho possession of the dancing dervishes when
hostilities commenced. All over Syria, they
, are found in the largo towns, and also in I'crsia.
At Tcra, there is a neat mosque for the service
of this order of devotees, tliat is freely opened
for the entrance of Eriinks as readily as Turks,
on the regular days of exaltation. It is a neatly
oonslructcd huildlng, of wood, at tho extremity
of a narrow lano, having sonielhing of a yard in
front, in which women, children, saints and
English sinners were waiting for liie doors to ho
opened wlicn wo arrived. When the bolts were
drawn, every one rushed for a good place, but
were stopped by the janitor, who required us to
lake off our shoes. Some were so fortunate as
to obtain slippers, but myself and corapajiions
pushed on in our stocking feet.
Within, the entire body of the mosque was
given up to the derviihes, with the exception of
one corner, separated by a rail, bcliind which,
Christian spectators and others were permitted
to stand. Directly over the front entrance was
a snmH gallery, or orchestra box, for musicians,
and on the opposite side, a corner concealed by
line wooden gratings, behind whicli females were
indulged with a peep without being seen. The
floor was a clean, well scrubbed pine one, smooth
and shining, from the polishing action of human
feet year after year.
A priest of mild expression, advanced in years,
and of small stature, marched into the arena,
and having a sheepskin with the wool on spread,
squatted down upon it. Immediately the breth-
ren came in, to the number of five and twenty,
dressed in closely-fitting jackets, high felt caps
of a sugar loaf form, minus a brim, full drah
colored petticoats, and barefooted.
Taking their places in a circle, two feet apart,
witli the right hand on the left shoulder of the
next, the group had a picturesque appearance in
the stand still position. Prayers were muttered
by the director-general on the sheepskin ; and
wiicn concluded, the music of a ney — a flute
blown by applying the lips at the end — com-
menced, accompanied by tambourines, hand
clappings, and sometimes the voice. It was the
first and only time I ever heard anything like
harmony in the country, from native performers,
with the exception of some of the Sultan's bands.
Waiting with closed eyes till the music became
loud, and to them exciting, each one began to
turn on his own axis, while he progressed round
the periphery of the great circle described by the
whole company. They whirled faster and faster,
cramping their toes into the boards till the veins
swelled to tlie size of drum cords, and the instru-
ments became louder and louder, and the air
quicker, till the point of exaltation had been car-
ried as far as the system would bear, when they
simultaneously came to a stand still.
After resting a few moments, they re-formed
again, and repeated the series of displays. Their
faces were flushed, their eyes rolled up to the
zenith with a devotional cast, and when too gid-
dy to stand a moment longer, they were consid-
ered in the most intimate communication with
the prophet.
[See engraving of Whirling Dervishes, page 332.]
Having ascertained that an extraordinary reli-
gious ceremony would take place at the mosque
of the Howling Dervishes, on the Asiatic side of
the Bospliorus, we proceeded there in a caique,
at a seasonable hour in the morning, to have an
opportunity of seeing and hearing the whole.
The orgies of these fanatics are among the
strangest exhibitions of humanity in the great
city of the Sultan. Prom an historical inquiry,
they appear to be really and truly the last rem-
nant of tlie fire worsliippers of antiquity. Un-
fortunately, the rain was pattering so freely, that
in walking up the hill to the mosque we were
both ladened with mud, and made thoroughly
uncomfortable for want of umbrellas.
On reaching the door, no admission could be
obtained for more than an hour, as the dervishes
were in prayer. We were compelled, therefore,
to stand wherever the rain could be best avoided,
already saturated, and raked by a cold, sleety
wind.
After waiting the longest hour imaginable, the
outer gate of the yard opened, and the rabble
immediately made for the door. But before any
one was allowed to pass the thrcshhold, sugar
plums and rose colored sherbet weie gratuitously
and plentifully distributed. Eacli one drank
what quantity he wislied ; and those who filled
their pockets with the confectionary, heard no
remonstrances. Some pious foundation proba-
bly supports this custom.
These fantastic exiiibitors are descendants of
the Baaliies, whose temples once abounded
throughout Northern Asia, four hundred of
whose priests were .slain by Elijah on tlie banks
of the river Kishon, near Mount Carmcl, in
Syria — a spot which X visited with no ordinary
emotions.
When Mahommcdanism began lo spread abroad
under tho irresistible influence of Damasem*
sword hludes, these mad fellows cunningly en-
grafted just enough of the new religion upon
their old unmeaning bloody rites to Have their
necks; and althout^h they would soon shake ofl'
the tramtnels of Moslcmisra if they dared, these
])i-ophcts of Baal arc among the most devout of
the orthodox and sanctified worshippers, in ap-
pearance, in the orient.
Tho mosque of the howling dervishes at Scu-
tari has sido galleries, one being occupied hy
women, who are screened from vulgar eyes hy
fine lattice work, and the opposite one was filled
with men. No females were admitted on the
lower floor, as spectators.
On entering from the front door, we turned to
the right, into a kind of long pew, separated from
the main apartment. The operating floor of the
mosque where the devotees assemble, is about
forty feet square. At one end of the apartment
sat the principal priest, a man of about fifty,
with keen, restless eyes. On either side he was
supported by inferior priests, conjectured to be
assistants, from the magnitude of their turbans
and the fashion of their robes. They all sat on
the floor on their cushions. Back of them, next
to the wall, were several very large, fat, gray-
bearded, eminent men, well accommodated on
soft mats. That they were very honorable
somebodies, was apparent from the obsequious-
ness of the divinities officiating in front.
Two parallel lines of worshippers extended
down towards the other end of the mosque. On
the plastering, suspended from the wall behind
the chief operators, were horrible looking axes —
one having a rounded catting edge, full two feet
long, and a tremendously long handle, befitting
the hands of an Anak. Hooks, sharp spears,
knives, and horribles without stint, were numer-
ous, making a great collection of tormentors,
the invention of a brain that must have delighted
in the agonies of despair, making one's flesh
crawl to gaze upon them. A recollection of
their strange crooks, and keen, thorny points,
makes me recoil with a chill. On the line mid-
way between the floor and the galleries, were
twenty-three full grown tambourines, eleven of
the dimensions of a quart bowl, together with
eight pair of metallic cymbals.
Eor a considerable time the fraternity were en-
gaged in an ecstatic prayer, wagging their heads
on either side, with closed eyes and outspread
hands, while the principal priest kept up a demi-
musical recitative articulation.
Suddenly, they sprang simultaneously to their
feet, formed a circle, and placing the right ai-m
over each other's shoulders, commenced a move-
ment faintly resembling poor dancing, stamping
to the time of a monotonous chant, and coursing
round and round in a circle. A low hum, re-
sembling the drone of a bagppipe, as we hear
them in the Highlands of Scotland, an octave
below the tone of the leader, produced a striking
effect even upon myself, a mere spectator. How
much more intense, then, on those who under-
stood the language, who felt the spirituality of
their exercises, and look to heaven for a reward.
By degrees the devotees warmed up till the
mercury of their spirits reached the highest de-
gree of infuriated enthusiasm. One after anoth-
er threw off an upper garment, and all began to
appear as wild as maniacs in their gesticulations.
Next, the ring was broken, and lines again form-
ed anew. The singing became more impassioned,
and there they stood, bowing and swaying with-
out moving their feet, precisely as the dancing
girls of Upper Egypt entertain their patrons.
Finally, two stout fellows, stripped to the skin,
all but their drawers, marched up reverentially
to the priest, who put into their strong hands
two wooden balls, each of the ordinary dimen-
sions of ninepin lignum vita; rollers, some eight
inches in diameter, projecting from which were
poignards, ten inches long, bright and sharp.
Giving themselves a haggard, demoniacal ex-
pression, the ball holders flourished them in all
directions, bowed repeatedly, but held the wicked
poignards so loosely, and such was their careless
activity, that I involuntarily skulked behind a
pillar sustaining the gallery, lest one of them
should slip from their grasp, and ti'ansfix my
humble self like a dead fly to the wall.
At a moment when the whole amused assem-
bly were contemplating the strange scene, and
the inflamed disciples were wrought to the high-
est bearable point of extreme excitement, amid
the din of tambourines, drums, cymbals, chants
and intermittent howls — low, solemn and un-
earthly— one of them fell on his back, with the
keen point of the dagger resting on the pit of his
stomach. With a firm hold he held the gleam-
ing steel perpendicularly with both hands, the
wooden hall being above his clenched fingers.
At this particular juncture, a resident of New
York, bearing the name of Brown, burst into an
uproarous horse laugh, to the astonishment,
mortification and alarm of all the European
strangers present. Had he cried, we should not
have wondered ; I)ut to burst forth with a sar-
donic laugh, dumbfounded all the sjjectators. I
tap])ed him instantly on the shoulder, and im-
plored him, in the name of decency, propriety,
and the laws of good breeding, to hold his
tongue, as he actually endangered our lives.
Nothing would sooner rouse the sleeping lion,
and in the twinkling of an eye kindle up a srnoth
ered hatred to Christians, like an insult of that
atrocious character, in a mostjue, while they
were celebrating the mysteries of their religion.
Fortunately, the bewildering combination of
noises from the instruments, human howls and
clapping of the hands, prevented the worshippers
from hearing Blr. Brown's ill-timed and inappro-
priate mirth. Had it been otherwise, and his
vulgarian voice been recognized above the reg-
ular uproar of the occasion, there is no predict-
ing what might have been the consequencca
of that unaccountable explosion of vulgarity.
While the inspired shirtless Samson was lying
thus on the floor, face upwards, with the dagger
pricking his skin, one of the priests, supported
by putting his hands on the open palms of two
assistants, stepped up and actually stood with
one foot on the ball ! I trembled with appre-
hension, for fear the weight of the holy old di-
rector should drive the sharp instrument through
the prostrate body into the floor. Because the
weight of the priest did not force the poignard
in the line of direction and kill the man outright,
it was denominated a miracle ! Surely, he was
strong, unusually so, to have thus sustained a
load of such ponderosity as the corporation of
the priest, and by his fingers alone.
The Turks are immensely powerful, both in
raising burdens, and in sustaining them on their
backs. I once met a porter in a street of Smyr-
na, carrying a barrel of New England rum on
his back. I knew what it was by the lettering
on the head. Yet he walked off' as carelessly as
though it was not particularly diflicult to sustain
the weight.
By a prodigious digital power, the ball was
kept up to its original level, although laden by
the fat old Baalite. Had it settled the eighth of
an inch, the needle point would have drawn
blood, and the devotee run through the middle.
Next, five boys, from twelve ranging down to
about six years of age, walked to the front of the
calm priest, who took a sharp steel rod the size
of a large sail needle, having a heavy flat handle
in the form of a crozier, and thrust it through
both cheeks of each lad — the handle being on
one side, and the protruding point sticking out
through the other.
Being between the jaws they could not be
closed. The youngest flinched a little, but the
other four were particularly firm. They then
took their places, unable to shut their mouths,
while the blood trickled down their chins. Their
distorted faces were extremely painful objects to
contemplate.
At this stage of the exhibition, miracles were
to be wrought for the recovery of some sick per-
sons. One after another laid flat down on the
hard floor, while the well fed operator of a priest,
in his stocking feet, trod on their bodies, and
bore his whole weight on their chests. Eive ap-
plicants were prostrate at once, over whom he
walked with an air of unconcern, giving to each
the pressure of his holy feet. Even a small in-
fant was placed on the floor to receive the tor-
ture of the pontifical tread. One female was led
forward also, veiled, who was placed on her
face, whereas all the others laid on theii- backs.
When the steel stilettos were withdrawn from
the bloody checks of the boys, I examined the
wounds on one of them, and to my surprise, the
little deceived chap declared that the aecapunc-
turation did not hurt him. The gaping crowd
of undignified Moslem starers viewed it as a most
marvellous affair that neither of them were pain
ed, maimed or injured — a convincing proof to
them, of the divine nature of the act.
Government, to its lasting credit, has forbid-
den the practice of many of the cruel rites here-
tofore deemed essential, by this sect, as being
too abominable, both in act and tendency. Tho
feats I witnessed are only occasional. An
American missionary, who has resided in Con-
stantinople many years, told me he had never
witnessed a scene analogous lo what has been
here described.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOIM COMPANION.
327
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
"I STILL LmS."
THE LAST WORDS OF HON. DiNLEL WEB3TE3R.
DV MRS L. H. SIGOnRNEY.
*'5«'H IlivcP^ The leaves wei-c fitlllDg
Eoimd the maDsion -where he lay ;
And autumnal voices calling,
Vt'araed the simuner's pride away ;
Wliile the sighing surge of ocean,
In its crested beauty ran,
Brcakmg with a ceaseless motion,
Like the fleeting hopes of man.
"StUt Ilive.'^^ 0, strong and glorious
Were those prophet words of cheer ;
For where'er in truth victorious.
Greatness hath its woi-ship hero.
Patriot Power its high ovation,
Eloquence its lofty birth ;
He shall win from every natiou,
An undying name on earth.
^^Stiil Hive!" The flesh was failing,
All in vain the healer's skill ;
Light in that deep eye was paling,
And the mighty heart grew still.
Yet the soul, its God adoring, -
Clad in armor, firm and bright,
O'er the body's ruin soaring.
Mingled mth the Infinite.
Where he sleeps, that man of glory,
aiarshficld's mournful shades can say ;
And his weeping country's story.
Darkened on that funeral day ;
But the love that deepest listened,
Caught such balm as Heaven can give ;
For an angel's pinion glistened
At the echo— "5uW lUveP'
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DANIEL WEBSTER AT HOME.
BY ben: pekley pooke.
A NATION mourns ! American citizens, with
one heart and with one voice, pay homaj,'es, en-
twined with blessings, to the memory of Daniel
Webster, who has departed this life in the ful-
ness of years and of reputation. Statesmen, in
studied language, culogiiie him as the Defender
of the Constitution, patriots enslirine him as the
champion of the Union, whose glorious triumphs
were achieved by the moral force of national
feeling; jurists, in eloquent terms, descant upon
his familiarity with the technical refinements of
special pleading, and the recondite learning of
real law ; and the press has recounted in detail,
the events of his public life, a history of good
service, which has imparted renewed and aug-
mented vigor to our glorious republic. All this
is Avell — is true — is merited. But it was not be-
cause he was an able statesman, a profound jur-
ist, or an eloquent orator, that the people now
mourn as they have not mourned since the death
of Washington. Now, as it was then, public
glory is but a Iialo, by the light of which the
home life of the man stands out in attractive
relief. A yeoman's son, Daniel Webster never
forgot the republican habits of his youth, and al-
though his subsequent associates might have
chilled his public deportment, yet, in hi.s own
home, he lived and died a good, honest, affec-
tionate, true-hearted man. Of him, in this pop-
ular, yet almost unknown ptiase of his career,
we propose to write, and to show our readers
that the domestic endowments of the man far
eclipse the lustre of the statesman.
The official home of Mr. Webster was a two-
story brick house, of unpretending appearance,
situated in the very heai't of the city of Wash-
ington. The front door opened into a narrow
hall, containing a peculiar hat-rack made of
branching antlers. On the right were two par-
lors, which occupied the whole area of this man-
sion, and at the extremity was the library, richly
stored with works on constitutional and interna-
tional law. The parlors were simply furnished,
and decked with a few rare pictures, but there
was generally some curious gift on the table,
waiting to be sent to Marshfield, where all such
cherished presents were kept. Opening from
one of these parlors was a spacious dining-hall,
erected a few ycai"s since, when Mr. Webster's
position as Secretary of State obliged him to
entertain the diplomatic corps, and distinguished
guests. Nor did many days pass that friends
from various sections of the Union did not sit at
that liospitable board. The judgment displayed
by Mr. Webster in classifying his invitations,
was often a subject of remark, for his guests
always found congenial spirits invited to meet
them.
At Wasliington, as when on his farms, Mi*.
Webster rose with the lark. " What little I
have accomplished," he once said, " has been
done early in the morning." On market days,
when in the metropolis, he invariably was among
the first at the stalls, where he purchased the
delicacies of the season for his guests, and a
plain steak or chop for his own eating. His
cook, a colored woman named Monica, had
served him many years, and was not forgotten
by him in the distribution of his legacies.
In the proper season, he often used to take a
friend with him, and drive to the falls of the Po-
tomac, where he could indulge in his favorite
sport of angling. Mr. Charles Lanmau, his pri-
vate secretary, was often the companion in these
piscatorial excursions, and bears high testimony
to his skill. Among other anecdotes, he once
related the following iish exploit. In the
spring of his fifth year, when a barefooted boy,
he happened to be riding along a road near his
birthplace, on the same horse with liis father,
when the latter suddenly exclaimed ; "Dan, how
should you like to catch a trout V Of course
he replied, that he would like nothing better;
whereupon they dismounted, and the father cut
a hazel rod, to which he attached a string and
hook, baited it with a worm, and told his son to
creep upon a rock, and carefully throw in on the
further side of a deep pool. The boy did as he
was bidden, hooked a fish, lost his balance, and
tumbled into the water, and was drawn ashore
by his father, with a pound trout trailing behind.
When at home, the interval between his morn-
ing walk and the breakfast liour was devoted to
private correspondence, and the many letters
which, since his death, have found their way into
print, arc but specimens of his voluminous and
numerous epistles. In either case, he was inva-
riably at his post in the State Department at ten
o'clock, where we find his time described as
busily occupied. The first business he attended
to, was to read his mail. The only letters he
read with attention were the official ones, and
they, wlien tlie questions they brought up did not
require investigation, were disposed of immedi-
ately. Political letters were merely glanced at,
and then filed away for future consideration —
those of a private and personal character were
also laid aside, to be attended to, or answered
early on the following morning at his residence,
while everything of an anonymous character was
simply opened, torn in two pieces, and committed
to the basket of waste paper. He not unfrc-
quently kept two persons employed writing at
his dictation at the same time ; for, as he usually
walked the floor on such occasions, he would
give his chief clerk a sentence in one room to be
incorporated in a diplomatic paper, and, march-
ing to tlie room occupied by his private secre-
tary, give him the skeleton, or perhaps the yery
language, of a private note or letter. In addi-
tion to this, he made it his business to grant an
audience to all who called upon him, receiving
dignitaries with dignity, and all friends, stran-
gers, and even office-seekers, with kindness and
cordiality. When a man is heard complaining
of the manner in which Mr. Webster once re-
ceived liim,rest assured that he was importunate
in some political demand.
At the dinner-table, and through the evening,
Mr. Webster gave himself up to the enjoyments
of social life. Never did we listen to better sto-
ries, or hear them better told, than at his dinner-
table ; and Miss Harriet Martineau, the English
tourist, described him at an evening party, as
"leaning back at his ease on the sofa, shaking it
with burst after burst of laughter, cracking jokes,
or smoothly discoursing to the perfect felicity of
the logical part of one's constitution." Such
was his private companionship. Abroad, how-
ever, he was the stern, plainly-dressed, grave re-
publican. His favorite dress at Washington, by
the way, was a blue coat with gilt buttons, witli
white vest and pants in the summer, and buff
vest and black pants in cooler weather.
Elms Farm, lying on the Merrimac Eiver, in
New Hampshire, was cherished by Mr. Webster,
as the scene of his childhood, and the vicinity of
his birthplace. The house in which he was born
has long since disappeared, and the engraving
in the Boston edition of his works represents a
subsequent edifice hard by, of no historical inter-
est. An engraving of the genuine " birthplace "
will ornament Harper's editionof Mr. Lanman's
work, and is from a sketch made by the author
under Mr. Webster's direction. He describes it
as one of the farm houses of the last century, one
story liigh, heavily timbered, clapboarded, with
rather a i)ointcd roof, one chimney in the centre,
one front door, with a wiiulow on either side.
three windows at each end, four rooms on the
ground floor, and an addition in the rear for a
kitchen. It fronted on the south, a picturesque
well-curb and sweep stood near the eastern ex-
tremity, and over the whole a mammoth dm
tree extended its huge arms, as if to protect the
spot from sacrilege. In the rear, on a hillside,
was a spacious barn, and a partially wooded
pasture. The prospect immediately in front was
enlivened by a rude bridge, spanning a lovely
little stream, and bounded by a lofty hill, upon
which is still standing the church wiierc he was
baptised.
Elms Farm, to which Mr. Webster's father re-
raovca from the above described house, now
contains one thousand acres, much of it interval
land in a bend of the Merrimac. The man-
sion house is a plain edifice, but the farm will
challenge competition with any. John Taylor,
who has managed it for some twenty years, is a
noble specimen of a New England yeoman, and
under his skillful management, following the
suggestions of Mr. Webster, the farm is not one
of those '' fancy places," where they sow dollars
and reap fourpences. In 1851, it produced one
hundred and forty tons of English hay, two thou-
sand bushels of potatoes, one thousand bushels
of oats, seven hundred bushels of corn, four hun-
dred and fifty sheep, and one Ixundred head of
cattle. One yoke of oxen, when completely
dressed, weighed twenty-nine hundred pounds,
and was sold in the Boston mai'ket at seven
dollars per hundred.
Wlien at Elms Farm Mr. Webster was un-
tramclled by fashionable connexions or aristo-
cratic visitors, and was "at home." His dress
was of republican simplicity, and the dag uer re an
sketch in another column represents hiui as he
used to sit under the shade of his paternal elms,
engaged in familiar intercourse with his neigh-
bors. Politics were never alluded to on these oc-
casions, and never was his society more agree-
able to those who truly loved him, than when,
in his slouched hat and rough apparel, he narra-
ted the agricultural labors of his youth, or the
experience of his later years.
All around, too, were spots hallowed by his
early life. The saw-mill, where he read history
while the saw was "making the cut" throngli a
log. The spot where stood the schoolliouse in
which Master Hoyt taught him the rudiments of
his education. The ponds where he used to fish,
or to swim, or to skate, according to the season.
The fields where he rode the horse between the
furrows of corn, or raked hay, or drove team.
And, foremost perhaps, among all other inter-
esting scenes, was the old elm-tree, under whose
spreading branches lie first read the constitution.
He purchased it, when a lad, printed on a cotton
handkerchief, for which lie paid all the money
in his purse, and under that elm-tree imbibed
those ideas which after having been matured in
his mighty intellect, have sustained the magna
charta of our independence amidst storm and
peril.
But, whilst Mr. Webster's official home was at
Washington city, and his childhood's home was in
New Hampshire, the "home of his heart " was his
farm in Marshfield, Massachusetts. It contains
nearly two thousand acres of land, sheltered on
one side by a swelling range of hills, which pro-
tect it from the wintry storms, whilst on the other
side is the ocean, flowing past into that world-
reno\\'Tied harbor into which first came the Pil-
grim founders of the " Old Bay State." Taken
as a whole, this farm is described as the most
delightful residence in the Republic, and the
most desirable in point of location — variety of
soil and surface — beauty of landscape — splendid
prospects o'er sea and land — invigorating breezes
— sea-fishing, brook-ti"outing and game-hunting —
tortuous paths and extended carriage roads —
excellent agricultural condition, and commodious
mansion. As there was Imt one Webster, so
there is but one Marshfield.
The mansion-house was originally built by the
Thomas family, two years before the Revolu-
tion, but Mr. Webster made extensive additions,
including the library (which was designed by his
daughter Julia), and a spacious piazza around
the whole exterior. The style of architecture is
not very harmonious, yet the very incongruity
of the individual objects makes a harmon}' of its
own, as they are blended — and the kale i do s copal
arrangement of the interior is infinitely more
beautiful than the established order of things in
matters of household decorutn. A suite of eight
rooms, furnished with good taste, contain many
mementoes of the gratitude of republicans.
On the beach is the " fish-house," lor Mr.
Webster always indulged freely in out-of door
sports, and liad we space, we could narrate many
an anecdote of his prowess, and of the astonish-
ment with which city gents often discovered that
the " rusty old codger " with whom they had
been conversing, or whom they had lured to
procure bait, or carry them across a creek on his
brawny shoulders, was Daniel Webster! flis
barns are also the scene of many a talc of bis
agricultural skill. But a few days before his
death, he made his attendants carry him to a
window of his chamber, and gazed for the last
time at his fine stock of Durhams, Devons and
Alderneys, as the fine herd was driven, one by
one, before him.
We have spoken of the library, but no lan-
guage can give an idea of the happy manner in
which JMr. Webster filled its armchair, when his
guests examined its richly laden book-cases, or
inspected its valuable collection of medals. But
the artist has sketched this classic retreat as it
appeai-ed when the mortal remains of its late
occupant were brought there, in the metallic
burial case. The body was clad as it was when
he was accustomed to address the Senate, or the
Supreme Court — blue dress coat, white vest,
pants and cravat. No death-Iiue clouded the
countenance, and the features, placid as if in
quiet slumber, wore a serene look — almost a
smile. There was the roseate gloom of evening
twilight, when the orb of light, with godlike
composure, has sunk behind the horizon, yet
illuminates all around with serene splendor.
The Tomb, now, is the home of " all that is
mortal of Daniel Webster." It is near the house,
on the site of the second Puritan-built church,
and shows the inherent beauty and simplicity of
Mr. Webster's tastes. On the summit of a gen-
tle knoll, overlooking a wide reach of cultivated
land, of field, forest, glistening stream, and ever-
changing ocean, it stands out and apart from all
things else. The breezes of heaven waft over it,
the stars at night look down upon and watch it,
the open-throated ocean smgs its ever-solemn
du-ge. Save these, and the occasional footsteps
of man, it is located as it were without the world,
and within tlie gates of eternity. And thither,
without pomp or display, was borne the corpse,
followed by thousands and thousands of his sin-
cerely mourning fellow-citizens. The magnates
of the land, and the humble domestics, followed
side by side, and those who bore the pall were
tlie honest yeomen, who cultivated the adjacent
fields, and who lamented their departed neigh-
bor. Every man present felt ready to echo the
words of General Pierce (wlio was among the
mourners), and to exclaim : " How mere earthly
lionors and distinctions fade amid a gloom like
this ; how political asperities are chastened ; what
a lesson to the living ; what an ad monition to per-
sonal malevolence, now awed and subdued, as
the great heart of the nation throbs heavily at
the portals of his grave."
But we have exceeded our allotted limits, and
must close. Others may extol Mr. Webster's
unbounded patriotism, his noble intellect, his
wonderful faculties. Ills glorious life, or his sublime
death. But we mourn him as the honest yeo-
man, tlie steadfast friend, the sterling private
citizen, whose " splendor at parting " has made
radiant the "valley of the shadow of death."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE DISTANT CITY.
BT OWEN G. WARREN.
Faint aud far I hear the hum
Of the busy town to my senses come ;
The dust and dirt, and the struggling life,
That mingle together in ceaseless strife ;
They reach not me in this quiet spot,
Where God is present, and men arc not.
I see, in the distance, upward rise
The dust and the smoke that reach the skies ;
So reach to heaven the sins and crimes,
Kepeat*^d over a million times,
That men commit in that crowded mart.
And deem all hid in their o\Yn dark heart.
I hear the roar of a thousand cars
O'er the flinty streets, and their thunder jai-s
The solid earth, whereon I tread,
And through the air is a murmur spread ;
A troubled, uneasy and dissonant roar,
As if with impatience the noisu it bore.
And now this spot, in the fading even.
Seems like a heart prepared for heaveu ;
The noise of the world beats loud at the door,
But its cares and its troubles can enter no more.
It has left the scenes of sin and strile,
Aud entered, already, an endless life.
Virtue grows under every weight imposed
upon it.
328
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
X.
FUNERAL PROCESSION OF TTIE LATE HON. DANIEL WEBSTER, AT MARSIIFIELD, MASS.
WEBSTER FUNERAL CEREMOKIES.
Kver on the alert to depict for our readers every scene of a no-
table and interesting character, our artist was early on the spot to
sketcli the scenes relating to the liist ceremony of public duty to-
wards the remains of the great statesman, Daniel Webster. Our
readers are fully aware that he lived on his farm at Marshfield,
and here he was buried. The ceremonies of the funeral had
drawn together thousands- of people from various parts of the
country, and from every class, high and low, rich and poor. The
scene above represents that immediate part of the procession
where the body and the pall bearers were. These pall bearers
were from the sturdy old farmers, who liad been Mr. Webster's
neighbors in Marshfield. The funeral car was drawn by two jet
black horses, appropriately draped, and the following gentlemen
acted as pall bearers — Asa Hewitt, Seth Weston, Tilden Ames,
Seth Peterson, Joseph P. Cushman, Daniel Phillips. The proces-
sion moved to the tomb in the following order : — Pletchcr Web-
ster and three children, James W. Paige and John J. Joy, the at-
tending physicians and officiating clergyman, Mr. Webster's do-
mestics, workmen employed on the farm, selectmen of Marshfield,
citizens of Marshfield, governor and council, president of the sen-
ate and speaker of the bouse, Mayor Seaver and Gen. Pierce, Ed-
ward Everett, Ilufus Choate and Hon. Abbott Lawrence, cify
government of Boston, Mayor Frothingham and city government
of Charlestown, Mayor Walker and the city government of Eox-
bury, a delegation from the New York
Historical Society, a delegation of the
New York bar, a delegation of the
New York Democratic Republican
General Committee, delegations fiom
other cities and towns, representing lit-
crdry and other institutions, friends and
neighbors, citizens at large. So large
was the concourse of people that it w s
found necessary to remove the body f
the illustrious dead to the open air, thit
all might pass by it and take a parting
look. In another part of our paper "wl
have paid a more extended tribute to
the subject of our sketches, and must
herein confine ourself mainly to a dt
scripiion of the pictures accompanying
The second picture represents the me
tallic burial case in which the remai
were deposited. It is so constructed
to combine every valuable quality for
deposit in the earth, and the preser\
tion of remains from decomposition
It is similar in its outlines to the humT i
form when placed in a horizontal or re
cumbent position. It consists of an up
])er and lower metallic shell, which aic
joined together in a horizontal line m
the centre, each part being of about
equal depth. These shells are more or
less curvilinear, and arc made exceed
ingly thin, yet being sufficiently strong
to resist any pressure to which they
may be subject while in use. The shells
have each a narrow flange, which, when
placed toiijether, are bound by sere va
THE METALLIC CASE, in-^erted through the fianges and c
mented at the point of junction with i
peculiar substance which soon becomes as hard as the metal
itself The case is enamelled inside and out, and is made thoi
out;lily impervious lo the admission of air. The upper shell i
raised work, and ornamented in the casting with the appearan e
of folding drapery thrown over the body. This is covered with a
rich black drapery, neatly gathered and beautifully fringed. 1 1 c
case was superbly decorated with chased silver ornaments, with
flowers anu emitlems ot mortality neatly inwrought. It has a
heavy oval glass over the face, on which is screwed a silver cover ;
on the breast of the upper shell is a smooth silver plate, upon
which is inscribed jJone the name of Daniel Weustku, It has
three ornamental silver handles on each side. This elegant piece
of work was made by Messrs, Huylcr & Putnam, of New York.
At 12 1-2 o'clock, the last solemn rite of the funeral services com-
menced. The relatives and friends of the deceased, together with
members of the several corporations, occupied the main rooms of
the mansion. The officiating clergyman, Rev. Ebenezer Alden,
of Marshfield, occupied a position on the piazza, where he could
be seen and heard by the vast multitude which had now assembled
around the bier of the illustrious dead. The funeral services
were introduced by selections from scripture, appropriate to the
occasion, followed by an address, affectionate and solemn, and
closing with a prayer, when the procession moved to the cemetery.
The third engraving finely represents the family tomb, erected
after Mr. Webster's own design as his last resting-place, and the
spot where those most dear to him in life, also sleep in death.
This is upon the Webster estate, and in the centre of what is
called Winslow's Burying Ground. The remains of Governor
Winslow lie here; also those of Peregrine White, the first person
born in the country of the pilgrim stock. About one year since,
Mr. Webster caused a portion of this place to be enclosed for his
own family, and a tomb constructed. This tomb was first occu-
pied on Thursday, October 28tli, by the bodies of Mr. "Webster's
family, all of whom were removed from under St. Paul's Church,
in this city. The tomb is very simple. It is constructed upon the
modern plan, and bears upon a plain marble slab the name of
Daniel Webster. The enclosure is about the medium size of
those found in cemeteries. The whole is surrounded by a plain
iron fence, in entire unison with the tomb, the monuments and
the whole appearance of the place. There are three monuments
erected in the enclosure, bearing the following inscriptions :
GRACE FLETCHER,
WIFE OP DANIEL WEBSTER,
Bom January 16, 1781 — Died January 21, 1828.
" Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."
JULIA "WEBSTEK,
WIFE OF SAMUEL A. APPLETON,
Bom January 16, 1818— Died April 28, 1838.
" Let me go, for the day breaketh."
MAKY CONSTANCE APPLETON,
Born February 7, 1848— Died March 15, 1849.
MAJOR EDWARD WEBSTER,
Born July 20, 1820 — Died at San Angclo, in Mexico, in the
military service of his country, January 23, 1848.
A dearly heloved son .and brother.
VIEW OF MR. Webster's tomb, at marshfield, mass.
CxLEASON'S PICTORIAL DP^ATTING HOOM COIMPANION.
329
Mr. Webster had long and fondly looked for-
ward to the time when the deceased members of
his family should he deposited in the beautiful
tomb on his own domain at Marshfield ; and the
thought that they would be gathered within the
sight of his own secluded habitation, side by
side, in a chosen spot, was often the theme of his
ardent thoughts. In accordance, therefore, with
his last request that they should be home there,
the day before his burial, they were disinterred
from their former resting-place ; they were depos-
ited in the tomb in the following manner :^-on
the right, and occupying that portion exclusive-
ly, is the body of Mr. Webster. On the oppo-
site side are those of his wife, daughter and
grand-children, the one upon the other, as if
their spirits communed in death, as they had in
life. TJie group i? a most interesting one, and
none can look upon this sacred deposit of dust
but with emotions of the deepest sadness and
grief. At the going down of the sun on the day
of burial, a fiimily of nine were gathered in one
eternal household, the like of which can nowhere
else be pointed to in America. There they will
sleep in death, husband, wife, father and mother,
son and daughter, brother and sister. Under
the bosom of that peering height around which
the sky bends down to shield, and the ocean
chants its ceaseless requiem, and birds sing, and
breezes waft, and nature is decked in beautiful
attire — there repose the mortal remains of Dan-
iel Webster, surrounded by the kindred dust of
the beloved members of his family. The tomb
is enclosed with an iron fence, and in the enclo-
sure are the three white marble monuments, in
memory of members of the family. A similar
one, "no larger, no smaller," in the language of
Mr. Webster, is to be erected to his own memory.
The fourth picture represents the appearance
of Mr. Webster's remains as they lay in his li-
brary. The scene is carefully and most accu-
rately delineated by our artist. On the wall,
nearly over the coffin, hung the portraits of Lord
Ashburton — with whom Mr. Webster conclu (d
the famous Boundary Treaty between the United
States and Great Britain — and of Edward Web-
ster, who died in military service against Mexico.
At the further end of the room hung a portrait
of Mr. Webster himself — a good, though not
complete resemhlancc. The body was attired
APPEARANCE OF THE LATE HON. DANIEL WEBSTER AT HOME.
in a suit familiar to all who have ever seen Mr.
Webster — the Faneuil Hall suit — blue coat \vith
bright buttons, white pants, white vest, white
neckerchief, with wide collar turned over. The
features of Mr. Webster were natural, and ex-
hibited a marked serenity, seeming rather to be
those of a pleasant sleeper than one in the arms
of death. The beholder could scarcely realize
but that the great man would ere long open
those massive, startling eyes, move that large,
iron muscular frame, utter with that eloquent
tongue, impress with that mighty intellect.
Saving a thinness of cheek, there was not the
slightest change in Mr. Webster's face ; its color
was the same as in life. Over the whole counte-
nance there rested a matchless serenity, almost
the sweetest of smiles. There was no indica-
tion of a pain-racked body, or a shattered mind,
only of one wlio had
" Wrapped his mantle round him,
And laid down to pleasant dreams "
The fifth and last picture is a copy from a da-
guerreotype lately taken at Marshfield of Mr.
AVebster, as he appeared sitting — to use a com-
mon simile — under his own vine and fig tr e.
It is an actual copy from life, and possesses at
this time extraordinary interest. It exhibits the
statesman ungirded from the duties of his public
life, in the quiet repose of a happy home. But
that august presence will no more dignify either
the public forum, or the private parlor. In con-
junction with other bright luminaries in our po-
litical horizon, he has gone. In the language of
the Charleston Courier, " the last of the illustri-
ous trio of intellectual giants is no more. Son'h
Carolina has mourned her beloved Calhoun —
Kentucky has mourned her venerated Clay —
Massachusetts now mourns her glorious Webster
— and our nation mourns them all. Beyond all
comparison, they were the three greatest men of
the republic, since the days of the Revolution,
and long will it be ere our national firmament
will be again illuminated by such a constellation
of intellectual glory — and long will the nation
lament their irreparable loss. They came into
public life almost simultaneously, and their glo-
rious sunsets have been separated by but short in-
tervals. Alike have they spent their entire ma-
turity in the service of their country, and alike
have" they died in harness at the post of dut}."
330
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Qlcaflou'e Pictorial.]
HEKE, IN THE SILENT SHADOM JWGS.
UY n. aaiFPiw staples.
IToro, in tbo silent sluLJowinga,
Ah BiiiUti the nun to rt-at
BojonJ thv f loud- cup |K'(-l niountiiina,
Fnr in t^« iJiHtiint west;
Ah diu tlio wliiatliugfl of tlio wind,
From o'er tliu foaming sen;
'Tin Hwcot to niina our eyes to liuiivon,
And bend in prayer tho kneo.
Iluro, wlioro tho giant forest trees
Withstand the wind und storm,
And night birds Bcrofim so loud and long,
Tho traveller feels almm ;
"When on tlie rocky clifTd \vc sbind,
'TiB sweet to feel and know
Ood'R guavdiiin eye is o'er u8,
His hand is on our brow.
Yes! and to tho Chriptian, sbinding
Upon the brink of fate ;
A\'lien all around looks sad and drear,
And men are filled with hate ;
'T is then so sweet to feel and know
A promise sure ia given ;
And that beyond this world of care,
There is for bim a. heaven.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BOARDING rs HOUSEKEEPING:
— OR —
NOTHING LIIvE HAVING A HOME.
BY MKS. M. E. ROBINSON.
A GROUP of tliree were sitting around a tabic
within a wcll-farnishcd and pleasant room. The
gentleman — a middle aged, good looking person
— was busily engaged in perusing the evening
paper, and apparently unconscious of anything
going oil about him ; while tho lady, who evi-
dently laid claims to beauty and youth, alter-
nately did a few stitches of needle-work, and
watched the movements of a fine boy of six, who
sat by her side, intently occupied in arranging
bits of curiously shaped wood, dignified by the
name of animals, about a diminutive " Noah's
Ark."
The room had an air of unmistakeable comfort,
yet the lady did not look quite happy ; nor was
tlie discontented expression of her countenance
lessened by the request of a domestic that she
would visit the kitchen. Returning rather an
impatient assent, Mrs. Lee sent away the child
with the girl, and soon after left the room.
" What is the matter in the kitchen 1" asked
Mr. Lee, when his wife had again taken her seat
at the table.
*' The old story, of course ; help leaving, and
none to supply their places. I am so tired of
housekeeping !" exclaimed the lady, despair-
ingly-
" Never mind, never mind," said the husband,
good humoredly ; "I'll send a girl home to-mor-
row for you to make trial of. The matter can
soon Ite remedied."
" And ten chances against one she wont know
a potato from a turnip !" was the impatient
rejoinder.
"The Irish, generally, are very well acquaint-
ed with the former useful vegetable, I believe,"
resumed Mr. Lee, with a smile ; *' but, in case
she should he ignorant, you could instruct her,
you know."
" And after taking all that trouble, have her
coolly inform yon, in less than a month, that she
has found a better place. Encouraging, isn't
it?"
" Well, let her go, and get a substitute."
" The fact is, husband," said Mrs. Lee, decid-
edly, " that you gentlemen don't know anything
about the matter. I verily believe tliat you
imagine housekeeping affairs look after them-
selves principally; and that when washing, iron-
ing, sweeping, dusting, mending, etc., need to
be performed, we, fortunate women, have nothing
to do but to utter the magical words, and they
are done."
" O you are altogether too hard upon the
sterner sex," laughed the gentleman. "But of
the two, such an unlucky belief as you mention-
ed would be rather complimentary to the quiet
management of the ladies ; for it would imply
that they were capable of bringing about impor-
tant events, with but very little apparent effort."
This kind of argument did not seem to satisfy
tijc lady, who forthwith went into a relation of
tlie troubles and trials she had experienced the
past week.
" And how -shall we amend the matter ?"
iiskcd Mr. Leo, who luid attentively heard her
through.
" By doing what I have so often recommend-
ed— boarding," wu.s the unhesitating reply.
" In my oi>inion, that would bo increasing tho
evil. We bhould he obliged to give up our plea-
.sant home, and receive in return merely a place
in which to eat and sleep. Witli my present
sentiments, that is tho most extmvagant opinion
I entertain of boarding."
"All prejudice! You never, to my knowl-
edge, tried the experiment I have named ; you
cannot speak from experience."
" You forget," resumed Mr. Lcc, " that it was
necessary I should eat and drink before mar-
riage."
" O that was very different. You were a
bachelor then, and could not expect to bo very
well treated. Under those circumstances, a lit-
tle box of a sleeping-room in the fourtli atory,
and the additional privilege of a scat in the pub-
lic parlor, was deemed sulhcicnt; now, of course,
the case would be otherwise," urged the lady.
The gentleman smiled dubiously, but made
no reply.
" We should have a nice parlor and sleeping-
room adjoining," she resumed, eagerly, "and
that would be very nice for Freddy. We could
go and come when we please ; have company
when it suits our convenience, and — "
"But don't we have the same privileges
now?" interrupted Mr. Lee.
" In some measure, perhaps," was the quick
reply.
" You arc a novice, it is plain, in boarding-
house operations, or you would not mention ad-
ditional facilities for receiving company," said
the gentleman, dryly.
"But I should get rid of all domestic duties
and trouble with servants, and that is no mean
consideration."
"And get involved in numberless quarrels
with your fellow-boarders and landlady, to make
up for it,'* he added, archly.
" I tliought I had considered every objection
you could urge ; but I must confess I had not
once recollected that my combative qualities
might stand in the way." And the pretty face
of Mrs. Lee expressed considerable indignation
that she should be so unjustly suspected.
" Understand me rightly, my dear," said the
husband. "I did not mean to imply that you
would be easier to quarrel with than any other
person — far from it. But I did mean to say that
while boarding, one has more individuals to
please than at his own private table, and conse-
quently runs a greater risk of conflicting with
the habits and sentiments of others. Is it not
so?"
Mrs. Lee was in a more positive than reason-
ing state of mind, and could not perceive any
great trutli in the sentiment. It had been her
desire to board when first married ; but her hus-
band, who avowed he had seen enough of
" boarding-house misery," could not by any
means be persuaded to do so. He wanted a
home; a place, however small, that he could call
his own, and carry out his wishes without inter-
fering with any one.
So to housekeeping they went ; and having
every rational want gratified, Mrs. Lee might
have been very happy, had not her "boarding
fever" every year continued to "run" so high,
that Mr. Lee thought he should really be obliged
to make use of the only successful remedy he
knew of — a year's experience in the business.
"What would be done with our furniture, in
case we conclude to do as you wish?" he asked,
after a pause ; " for I should dislike to have the
house stand useless a year."
"I think the furniture had better be sold. It
will be a great trouble to pack it, and we shall,
probably, never want it again," said the lady.
" Don't smile so incredulously," she added, upon
perceiving tiie doubtful look upon her husband's
face; "for I am certain that when we have
boarded six months, nothing can tempt us to re-
sume housekeeping again."
" Eurniturc disposed of at public auction is in-
variably sacrificed; it will not fetch half its
value."
"But half its value is better than having it
ruined by storing," interposed Mrs. Lee. "Eor
my part, I shall never want to sec a domestic
utensil again."
" Where would you wish to board ?" inquired
the hu-sband.
"At Mrs. Clifton's; it is the only suitable
place I know of," answered Mrs. Lee, joyfully.
"But arc you really disposed to give your con-
sent?" she added.
"If I am, it is merely to convince you that
your castles are made of air, and lliat a board-
ing-house, however fasliionably kept, will fall far
short of a heaven upon earth," was the smiling
reply of Mr. Lee, as lie took his liat and left tho
house.
"And so wo arc certainly going to boarding!"
soliloquized Mrs.ljcc, after his departure. " How
nice it will be ! and at Mrs. Clifton's we shall
meet only the very best of society, for it is a first
class house,"
The lady certainly looked, and we suppose
felt, better pleased than she had done for many a
day ; foi* she liad gained a point that she believed
was to crown the summit of her happiness.
Next morning Mr. and Mrs. Lcc sallied forth
in search of a "place." They called first at
Mrs. Clifton's, and, mucli to the satisfaction of
the latter, found, to use the words of the land-
lady, that " a beautiful and airy suite of rooms "
had been vacated the day before.
"What could be more fortunate?" observed
Mrs. Lee, as they mounted two pairs of dark staii-s
to examine the rooms.
" I don't have a vacancy very often," remark-
ed the lady of the house, who overheard the
above observation. " My boarders are so well
satisfied that they are content to stay. This is
the parlor," she added, throwing open a door.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee stepped in. It was a rear
apartment, rather longer than wide, and on these
accounts not so desirable; but being well fur-
nished and quite neat, it was passable. The
sleeping apartment — one of the "airy suite" —
was adjoining, in which, by ingenious calcula-
tion, a bed, a sink and toilet table were placed,
allowing very little extra room for purposes of
ventilation and locomotion. Mr. Lee thought of
his spacious bed-chamber at home, but said no-
thing, determining to let his wife please herself.
The latter regretted its small size, but as there
was no choice, remarked that "it would have to
do," and accordingly the rooms were engaged
at an exorbitant price, on account of the " fash-
ionable location."
The next week saw them inmates of a "gen-
teel boarding-house." Mrs. Lee was in exube-
rant spirits ; but her husband looked sober, and
said but little. He had disposed of his furniture,
let his house, and had nothing to do but to take
circumstances as he found them; but he was
hardly yet reconciled to his new position.
" What have you to say against this, husband ?"
queried Mrs. Lee. "Isn't it quite cosey and
comfortable?"
"It does very well, but you know *a new
broom sweeps clean.' However, I have no par-
ticular fault to find yet."
The tea bell at that moment rang, and in obe-
dience to its summons, they went below- A
dozen ladies and gentlemen were seated about a
table covered with a superabundance of ware,
and but a scanty portion of eatables. A few
wafer-like slices of bread, a little jelly, dealt out
to each in homceopathie quantities, cake remark-
able for nothing but dryness and limited propor-
tions, and fluid dignified by the name of tea, con-
stituted the eating department. It was all very
"genteel," however; and Mrs. Clifton intro-
duced her new boarders very gracefully, as she
took her place with due dignity at the head of
the table.
" Rather more fashionable than substantial
fare," said Mr. Lee, when they were in tiieir
room again.
" I like it much," rejoined his wife, firmly,
who had resolved to be pleased, or seem to be,
at all events. "It is not in good taste to load
a table at tea time."
Another smile, tlie meaningof which Mrs. Lee
could hardly determine, shew itself upon the face
of the gentleman, as he placed his feet upon the
fender, and took a book to while away the time ;
for, if the truth must be told, he was already be-
ginning to be homesick.
The next morning, a breakfast was set before
them, which certainly possessed one recommen-
dation, and that was — its extreme easiness of di-
gestion ; for Mrs. Clifton averred that " her board-
ers invariably declined to crowd their stomachs
with such hearty food as fish or meat, in the
morning, at the expense of their health."
Mr. Lee made some pobte reply, and as he
was inclined to treat the opinions of others with
courtesy, thought that the next meal would set
him riglit on tlie probability of the truth of her
remark.
When the hour for dinner arrived, and the fa-
mily were seated, Mrs. Lee glanced at her Iius-
band with a look of triumph, which seemed to
say, " Now I am sure you will have no reason to
complain."
The first course consisted of a doubtful look-
ing soup, the principal ingredient of whicii ap-
peared to be water, relieved by a few grains of
rice that floated on the surface. Tins was dealt
out in liberal quantities, but did not particularly
please the palate of Mi-. Lee. A pair of small
emaciated-looking "chickens," of mature age,
next made their appearance, and tlie latter,' who
remembered that appearances were sometimes
deceitful, was tempted to try a wing of the same.
He regretted it on the instant, nevertheless ; for
the exceeding dullness of his knife, or some other
cause, rendered it impossible for him to separate
the same into portions small enough for mastica-
tion. But his wife, at the imminent hazard of
overturning her plate into her neighbor's lap,
performed the feat successfully, and with a
feigned enjoyment, in silence despatched a small
portion of the fowl. And now came, for des-
sert, a pudding, in which bread was made to
take the place of eggs, and molasses was substi-
tuted for sugar ; — a compound satisfactory
enough to some people, perhaps, but one which
was particularly disagreeable to Mr. Lee. Ac-
cordingly he declined being helped to any, po-
litely begged to be excused, and made his way
to a neighboring saloon, where he satisfied his
appetite as soon as possible.
In the interim, what were the thoughts of the
sanguine wife ? To her satisfaction, Mr. Lee
did not refer to the dinner in any way ; for had
he done so, she would not have known what re-
ply to have made. To be sure their living was
much better when housekeeping, and her domes-
tics quite as attentive as Mi-s. Clifton's; but, then,
the latter had not had a fair trial, and she would
suspend her judgment for a time.
At the end of a week, Mrs. Lee was no better
satisfied than at first. Things had not improved
in the least, and she was far less happy than she
had expected to be ; for, though her husband
made no complaints, she saw that the lecture;
room, the street, or even his place of business,
possessed more attractions than his boarding-
house. As for her-self, the lime she had expect-
ed to pass so agreeably, hung heavy on her
hands. She had no particular fancy for needle-
work— that never-failing remedy for en»Mi; and
books, in her present state of mind, did not inter-
est her. She could not " shop " all day, neither
would the delightful business of making calla
take up all the time. If she could have watched
the different passers-by, it would have been bet-
ter than no employment ; but this was impossi-
ble, for her room overlooked a number of sheds.
At last she concluded to go down into the
public parlor and make the acquaintance of some
of lie r fellow-boarders, that is, if she was fortu-
nate enough to recognize any who were present
at her first appearance in the dining-room ; for
the fact that there had been several removals
and new arrivals in one short week, seemed a
direct contradiction to the statement of the land-
lady respecting the attachment of her boarders
to the place, and a mystery which Mrs. Lee
could not satisfactorily solve.
In the parlor she found one solitary individual
— a lady siie had seen but once, but who, by her
conversational powers, proved an agreeable com-
panion. The latter had been an inmate of tlic
house but one day, and Mrs. Lee did not think
it advisable then to speak of other than general
sulijects. An hour or two was thus whiled away
in social chat, and before leaving the parlor, Mrs.
Lee invited the lady to spend the evening with
herself and husband.
The offer was accepted, and as two or three
other friends came in, Mrs. Lee enjoyed herself
better than she had done that week ; she even re-
tired that night without mentally regretting that
lier bed-chamber was not larger and better ven-
tilated.
But the next morning brought a revulsion of
feeling ; and when Mr. Lee came in at noon, he
found his wife looking exti'cmely vexed. Hav-
ing made it a rule to ask no questions, but to let
things take their course, he said nothing.
" That intolerable Mrs. Clifton !" at length
ejaculated Mrs. Lee, indignantly.
" So soon !" he remarked, with a smile of
meaning.
" I gave her the credit of being a well-disposed,
peaeealilc woman, at any rate," returned the lady.
" And has she proved otherwise?"
" Tliis morning she instructed a girl to tell
me that there was quite too much laughing and
talking in my room last evening; that it was
against the rules of the house to have company
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
331
after ten o'clock, and she hoped— did you ever
hear of such assurance ! — that it would not occur
again."
" Really !" laughed the gentleman.
" I must say that you take insulting language
very coolly, husband," resumed the lady. "For
my part, I think it very impertinent in her to
dictate to us in that style. "Why, any one might
suppose we were children, and didn't know the
proper hour for I'etiring."
" Was that alii" demanded Mr. J^Qe.
"All! no indeed! She had the politeness to
add that Freddy had been seen standing in the
chairs, and rolling a ball over the carpet. Just
as if I would permit her furniture to be injured."
" What a careful woman !" exclaimed the hus-
band, good-humoredly. " She'll get rich, I
know."
" Mr. Lee, don't you consider the language I
have repeated very disagreeable V inquired his
wife, suddenly.
" Certainly I do, my dear."
" Then why don't you resent it V
" What good would that do ^ it would only
make the breach greater. If you let this pass,
she wont be likely to interfere again, until Fred-
dy repeats the offensive operations of which he
has been accused. Poor fellow ! I shall have to
buy him a stool to stand on."
*' I don't know what to make of you, Mr. Lee,"
said his wife, petulantly. " I thought you had
more spirit than to tamely put up with such
abuse."
" It is nothing more than I expected," was the
- quiet reply. " I knew what we subjected our-
selves to when we came here."
" Then why did you not inform me V inquired
Mrs. Lee, looking surprised at this assertion.
" I believe I mentioned the fact several times,
though, of course, I could not, in so many words,
tell what the first trial would be. Come it would,
I was well assured, and the result shows the cor-
rectness of my opinions."
" Mrs. Clifton has been represented to me in a
wrong charactei'," persisted the lady, who had
no idea of owning that she had been precipitate
in choosing a boarding-house.
" She is a ' fashionable ' lady, and that certain-
ly is a sufiicient recommendation, even if she did
not consult the digestive organs of her boarders ;
the last being a service which one cannot be too
thankful for," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Mr.
Lee.
Mrs. Lee declared her unwillingness to remain
longer in a house where her own actions, and
those of her child, were to be restricted ; and in
just eight days from the time they entered the
house, they removed to another. In this change,
the husband was a passive agent in the hands of
his wife ; he gave no advice, expressed no wish-
es, but merely carried out her plans. He wished
her to make the selection, arrange everything as
she liked, and then, in case of a failure, have no
one to blame but herself. He was obstinately
determined that she should have enough of
boarding ; that she should try the experiment to
her entire satisfaction, without being biased by
his opinions.
This time Mrs. Lee made more inquuies,
looked at different situations, and consequently
procured a better place. Perhaps the location
was not quite so fashionable as she could have
wished, but the landlady was much more reason-
able, and the table bounteously supplied with
food. So far, so good ; Freddy could roll a ball
undisturbed, mount a chair under his mother's
eye, and the latter seemed quite happy that these
childish sports could go on, and not call forth a
severe reprimand.
But alas ! the "reasonableness" of the lady of
the house did not extend to visitors, who were
so infatuated as to stop to dinner or tea; her
kindness and politeness was limited to her own
household. Much to the mortiiication of Mrs.
Lee, several intimate friends, whom she had
taken the liberty of inviting to drink a social cup
of tea with her, were met with a frowning face,
which signified anything but an hospitable wel-
come. Though disappointed and chagrined, she
passed it over Avith comparative indifl^erence, and
endeavored to a tone for the uncourteous reception
by her own kind and attentive manner.
Was Mrs. Lee content? Had her glowing
anticipations been realized ? We fear not ; for
often, though unacknowledged, she would long
for her own spacious house, where she coiild re-
ceive as much company as she liked, and enter-
tain them as best pleased her. There her little
son had the whole range of the house ; now he
was restricted to a small space ; there she could
confer happiness upon others as well as herself,
hut now she was restrained by the will of others.
Three months liad passed, bringing with them
but little to vary the monotony of her life. Hav-
ing but little taste for reading or needle-work, as
we have before remarked, some occupation was
necessary to her enjoyment. This she had found,
while housekeeping, in the performance of her
domestic duties — those very duties she had here-
tofore disparaged.
Mrs. Lee was uniformly kind and polite to
those about her, but intimate with few. This
caused a feeling of jealousy among the less
favored ones, and finally ended in a complete
misunderstanding between the parties. Mrs. A.
intimated that Mrs. Lee " felt above her equals;"
IMrs.B., "that pride would certainly have a fall;"
while an unmarried lady hinted that she " en-
grossed altogether too much attention from the
opposite sex, for a person who had a husband "
— a remark in which she was fully sustained by
several of her female friends.
Mrs. Lee, though naturally of an amiable dis-
position, and affable in her manners, found her
position becoming extremely uncomfortable.
She renewed her efforts to conciliate those about
her, but discovered, to her mortification, that her
■well meaut efforts resulted in a total failure.
She became unhappy ; she found herself the ob-
ject of remark, and entirely cutoff from the sym-
pathies of those about her. Those who were less
fortunate in regard to worldly substance envied
her, and those less attractive in person were jea-
lous of her superiority in that respect. Those
who had previously been disposed to be friendly
were also infected by the breath of petty scandal,
and stood coldly aloof. Her situation was now
intolerable, and her misery sepmed daily on the
increase. She began to regret the comforts of
her former home, where she could choose her
own society, and her own eatables, and regulate
her own habits, without being made the subject
of observation.
Although Mi's. Lee felt very miserable, she did
not yet feel disposed to acknowledge that she
had taken a false step in the matter of boarding,
or to ask sympathy of her husband, who was
apparently unconscious that anything was going
wrong ; but Mr. Lee was a shrewd man, and
evidently had his own thoughts. The lady now
secretly resolved to make another change, and
took daily walks with that object in view, from
which she invariably returned more desponding
than before. One day, after one of these fruit-
less excursions, Mr. Lee came in unexpectedly,
and surprised her in tears.
" What is the matter, my dear V he inquired,
kindly.
" Matter enough," she replied. " I've been
looking for a boarding-house for the last three
days."
" Is it possible !" exclaimed Mr. Lee. " Are
you not satisfied with your present accommoda-
tions— this " nice, airy suite," where you can
come and go when you please, have company
when you please, no housework to do, no domes-
tics to look after 1 Certainly you don't feel dis-
posed to leave this delightful paradise, do you ?"
"I don't expect any sympathy from you!"
sobbed Mrs. Lee, with another fresh burst of
SOITOW.
" What have you seen that suits you — some
rare Edens, in all human probability V*
" All I can say is, if you call such places
Edens, the home of our first parents was not
celebrated for neatness," replied Mi'S. Lee, try-
ing to smile through her tears. " I've seen dirty
children, dirty servants, dirty doors, unswept
stairs, unwashed entries, ill bred people, small,
dreary-looking rooms, entirely unfit for our ac-
commodation, and, in short, everything that is
discouraging, uninviting, and positively repul-
sive. I feel very homesick," she added, with a
sigh.
" I don't suppose you will ever want to go to
housekeeping again 1" suggested Mi-. Lee, after
a short pause.
Mrs. Lee made no reply.
"Notwithstanding the e3:cniciating happiness
which we mutually enjoy in this 'airy location,'
I sometimes regret having disposed of our house
and furniture," he added, demurely.
Still his better half remained silent, although
it was evident that she felt his quiet sai'casm
keenly.
Mr. Lee took a few turns across the fioor in a
musing mood, and then proposed that his wife
and Freddy should accompany him, in order to
make one more effort.
In a few moments the parties were in readi-
ness, and passed into the street. Mrs. Lee
asked no questions, being absorbed in her own
thoughts, and not until she found herself in the
hall of her old home did she awake from her
reverie.
" Is it not unkind of you, husband, to bring
me here to sec comforts and conveniences which
I can no longer enjoy"?" she exclaimed.
" Look about you, my dear," was the quiet
reply, " and see if the old place looks natural."
Mrs. Lee glanced into the parlors and kitchen,
and to. her extreme astonishment, found the fur-
niture occupying its accustomed position, and
everything arranged as she had left it.
" Where's the family ?" cried the lady.
" There's no family here," replied Mr. Lee.
" Then you didn't let the house after all !" she
added, with increasing astonishment.
" No ; the house has been kept shut since you
left it to try the experiment of boarding," he
added, smiling at her surprise.
"And there's Margaret, too," continued Mrs.
Lee, joyfully, as a former and favorite domestic
entered the kitchen, bearing a market basket well
stored with the choicest viands the season
afforded.
"That's our dinner; and if the lady of the
house has no objection to seeing ' domestic uten-
sils ' once more, we will dine here to-day," re-
turned the smiling husband.
"Not the least in the world," said the lady,
blushing as she recalled the language she had
made use of on a former occasion. "I am satis-
fied that I erred in judgment, when I left such
comforts as these for the inconveniences, annoy-
ances and poor accommodations of that anoma-
lous thing called a boarding-house. You have
exercised much more sense and discretion than
I have, and I am truly grateful that your expe-
rience and forethought have forestalled the con-
tingencies of an experiment Hke the one I have
made."
"I was well persuaded, in my own mind, how
the affair would terminate,'^ replied Mr. Lee,
kindly, "and this explains the appeai'ance of
Margaret, and all that has astonished you."
" And sure I'm glad to see you again, ma'am,
for I knew the likes of ye wouldn't be plased a
boarding where ye hadn't rooms bigger nor a
band-box, and nothin' ye could call yer own in-
tirely," said Margaret.
" Do you really consent that I shall stay ?"
inquired Mrs. Lee, turning to her husband.
" Most joyfully," was the emphatic response,
" for I feel the need of a home as much as you
do ; and if circumstances ever render it necessary
for us to board again, we will try a first class
hotel, where money can purchase all the con-
veniences which we may desire."
It is unnecessary to add that Mi*s. Lee did not
return to her boarding house again, and was
never afterward heard to complain of domestic
duticj. She wisely concluded that every condi-
tion of life has its cares and petty annoyances,
which to he properly met and overcome, only
required the exercise of a little patience and
firmness. Mrs. Lee became abetter housekeeper,
and often expressed the opinion that there wns
nothing like having a home ; an opinion in which
we think our numerous readers will fully concm*.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE AlVGEL LADDER.
BT WUJ.IAM EDWAED KKOWLES.
A forlorn and weary pilgrim,
Journeying on life's dusty road.
Saw an angel ladder mmling
Downward from ttieir high abode.
Step hy st-ep the snow-white beings
Came to earth on airy rounds |
Footsteps, that to ear of mortals
Gave no evidence of sounds.
Higher up its mazy mndings,
Golden turrets rose to view ;
Lengthened line of golden turrets,
Lost amid a wealth of blue.
Spirit-voices chanted praises.
Which to him were tones of love ;
Sweeter than the hilis that echo,
Softly echo in the grove.
Long he gazed, in silent wonder,
On the forms that brighter seem ;
Till there shone a heavenly glory
On the casket of his dream !
He was dreaming, sweetly dreaming,
Resting there beside the road ;
And, Jike Jacob, saw the ladder,
Down which angels came from God !
It is best not to speak of things which arc
base to do, says Euripides, very wisely.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial-l
THE BIAID OF ALDER-VALLEY.
BY AUCE CARE7.
In the green Alder- valley,
Once, long ago,
"When the hght airs of summer
Sung in their flow ;
And dril'ts of rosy splendor
Blew from above ;
To the fair maid, Elmilna,
Told I my love.
Like a cloud of golden shadows,
Drifting o'er snow,
Fell her bright, rippled ringlets
O'er the heaven below ;
And her cheek, so softly blushing,
Half turned aside,
As I, with fondest kisses,
Called her my bride.
Hough winds of middle winter,
Pending the trees,
Driving the crispy spray-wreaths
Down the black seas ;
In the dim, chilly shadows
Of your ■wild storms,
Meekly the fair Elmilna
Pined from my arms.
White snows, wicj'n your season,
Soft, softly fall !
Thostle, that haunf-s the tliicket,
Sweet be your call 1
For the maiden, in whose bosom
Love lay so deep ;
Low in the Alder-valley,
Lies fast asleep.
MOZART.
A great many curious anecdotes are told of
this wonderful composer. Among others related
by his biographer, it is said that his cliarity was
once appealed to in the street by an old acquain-
tance, who had seen better days. Mozart put his
hand into his pocket, but found nothing there ;
the discovery was embarrassing and painful un-
der such circumstances, but immediately an idea
occurred to that great genius; he requested the
man to wait — stepped into a cofiee-room, and
there instantly composed a minuet, folded up the
paper, and gave it to the applicant, recommend-
ing him to give it to a music-dealer in the city,
who, when he saw the contents, would give him
something. The man received five louis d'ors.
It is needless to observe that the minuet is con-
sidered a master-piece, it being tlie production of
an artist who composed nothing but master-
pieces ; but it is more striking, as it displays his
musical learning and originality. — Yankee Blade.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
LINES
TO THE LATE HON. DiNIEL WEBSTER.
BY J. AlPORD.
0 life ! frail offspring of a single day !
'Tls puffed, alas ! with one short gasp, away ;
Swift as the painted, short-hved flower, it fliea,
It springs, it buds, it blooms, it fades, it dies I
Open thy jaws, 0 massive, marble tomb.
Conceal this treasure in thy sacred womb ;
Take with it all a nation can bestow,
A nation's tears, a nation's deepest woe !
0, ghttering prospect 1 in thy splendid ray,
Pangs oft assail us, while thy sunbeams play ;
E'en while their cheering influence glads the heart,
Relentless death sends forth his fatal dart
To wound our peace, for years, ivith saddest grief,
Unalterable and without relief.
See, with his torch the great archangel come,
And claim the privilege of the silent tomb !
What though no titles speak thy boundless worth,
Save that of honor, stamped upon thy birth !
Nor trophied tombs, where glaring emblems shine,
To mark, in gloomy state, an ancient line
Of kings and heroes, crnmbhng near the spot,
Where every folly but their pride 's forgot.
The blaze of fortune and the swell of blood
111 suits the grave that holds the great and good ;
111 suits, 0 blessed shade, thy noble dust,
Which asks no flattery from the breathing bust.
The bosomed shrine:^ that own thy deathless sway,
No moth shall perish, and no worm decay ;
Columbia's grief shall make thy fame more dear,
And speak thy virtues in each silent tear.
Departed Clay ! o'er thee M'e 've shed the tear,
■\Vhat eye withholds it from our Webster's bier?
'Tis ours to mourn, 'tis ours the loss to prove,
And pay the tribute of a nation's love !
A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT.
I saw a mourner standing at eventide over the
grave of one dearest to him on earth. The
memory of joys that were past came crowding
on his soul. In this hour of his agony, the form
of Christianity came by. He heard the song and
transport of ihc great multitude which no man
can number around the throne; there were the
spirits of the just made ]jerfect, there the spirit of
her he mourned. — Their happiness was pure,
permanent and perfect. The mourner then
wiped the tear from his eye, took courage and
thanked God. "All the days of my appointed
time," said he, "will I wait till a change comes;"
and he turned to tbe duties of life, no longer sor-
rowing as those who ]uivc no hope. — Christian
Freeman.
332
GLEASON'S PICTOniAL DRAWIING llOOM COMPANION.
HORTICULTURAL
EXMIKITION.
The cngnivinp be-
low is a representa-
tion of the Sixth An-
nual Exhibition of
the Montreal Horti-
cultural Society. Al-
though the severity
of the winter in Ca-
nada in unfavorable
to horticulture, yet
theexhil)itionsorihc
above society, which
are held three times
duriuf; the Hummcr,
in atldition to the
annual /<:/«, compare
favorably with those
of other countries en-
joying; a more genial
climate. This ex-
cellence was mani-
fested at the sixth
annual exhibition of
the Montreal Horti-
cultural Society,
which was held at
Guilbault's garden,
on the 16th and 17th
September. The lo-
cality was admiral)ly
adapted for the pur-
pose, the garden
being situated on a
rising ground, afford-
ing a tine view of the
city. A large num-
ber of visitors were
attracted to the ex-
hibition, who appear-
ed much delighted
with the specimens
of fruits, flowers and
vegetables, which
were there present-
ed, while the splendid — - — -
band of the 20th Re-
giment (English) en-
livened the occasion
with its fine musii^. A large number of the
junior visitors amused themselves with the very
complete gymnastic apparatus, erected for the
occasion. The fruits, plants and flowers were
displayed under a large tent nearly one hundred
feet in length, the entrance to which was orna-
mented with arches of evergreens, surmounted by
a statue of the " Gardener at Eest." The fruits
consisted of apples {sixty varieties), pears (nine-
teen varieties), plums (thirty-four varieties),
peaches, grapes, nectarines, currants, melons
(twenty-one pound weight), raspberries, water-
melons, etc. A very fine pine-apple, perfectly
ripe, being the first ever exhibited in Canada,
was sent I)y H. Atkinson, Esq., of Quebec.
Grapes, of fine quality, grown under glass, were
presented by J. Torrance, Esq., W. Lunn, Esq.,
and E. Muir, Esq. Several varieties of peaches
were shown by S. Jones, Esq., of Brockville,
Canada West. The Rev. Mr. Villeneuve, supe-
rior of the Seminary, exhibited fifteen varieties
of pears. Messrs. Cockhurn and Brown, nurse-
rymen, received four prizes for dahlias. The
Hon. J. Leslie exhibited a variety of greenhouse
and herbaceous plants. The large caoutchnuc
tree, measuring twenty-eight feet in height, which
ornamented the front" of the tent, was from the
greenhouse of the Hon. J. Molson, who also sent
"WHIRLING DERVISHES.
a wax-plant covering trellis work fifteen feet liigli.
Vegetables, in great variety and of excellent
quality, were placed upon taides in the optn air.
Two of the '* Canada squashes," exhibited by
Mr. James Clark, weighed each one hundred and
twenty pounds; another, one hundred and twelve
pounds. On a former occasion, a squash of the
same variety was shown, weighing two hundred
and seventy-eight and one half pounds. The
large egg plants and vegetables occupying the
end of the principal table, were from Rose
Mount Garden, the residence of the Hon. John
Young, Commissioner of tlie Board of Works.
Many prizes were awarded for bouquets, floral
designs, etc.. of which there were quite a number
very tastefully made. Eighty different sorts of
garden and flower seeds, of native growth, were
presented by Mr. Shepherd, seedsman. The
day was fair, and the spacious grounds afforded
a fine opportunity to the numerous visitors for
promenading. The Montreal Horticultural So-
ciety, of which Hugh Allan, Esq., is the active
and efficient president, has been in existence six
years, and numbers among its members many
of the leading citizens of that city. We cannot
refrain from dilating somewhat upon this subject
of horticulture, which now engages so much of
the public attention. The earliest effort of man
to emerge from a state of barbarism was directed
to the tillage of the earth ; the first seed which
he planted was the first act of civilization, and
gardening was the first step in the career of re-
finement ; but still it is an art in which he last
reaches perfection. When the savage exchanges
the wild and wandering life of a wanior and
hunter, for the confined and peaceful pursuits of
a planter, the harvests, herds and flocks take the
place of the simple garden. The mechanic arts
are next developed; then commerce commences,
and manufactures soon succeed. As wealth in-
creases, ambition manifests itself in the splendor
of apparel, of mansions, equipages and entertain-
ments. Science, literature and the fine arts are
unfolded, and a high degree of civilization is at-
tained. It is not until all this has taken place
that horticulture is cultivated as one of the orna-
mental arts. Egypt, the cradle of civilization,
so far perfected her tillage, that the banks of the
Nile were adorned by a succession of luxuriant
plantations, from the cataract of Syene to the
shores of the Delta; but it was when Thebes,
with its hundred brazen gates, and the cities of
Memphis and Hcliopolis, were rising in magnifi-
cence, and her stupendous jiyramids, otielisks
and temples, became the wonders of the world.
The hills and plains of Palestine were celebrated
for beautiful gardens
but it was not until
the walln and tem-
ple of Jerusalem an-
nounced the power
and intelligence of
the iHraclitCR, and
the prophets had re-
linked their luxury
a n d extravagance.
'J'he queen of the
East " had heard of
the fame of Solo-
mon ;" his fleets bad
brought him the gold
of Uphir, and the
treasures of Asia and
Africa; the kings of
Tyre and Arabia
were his tributaries,
and princes his mer-
chants, when he
"made orchards,"
"delighted to dwell
in gardeuK," and
planted the " vine-
yard of Baalliaman."
The Assyrians had
peopled the borders
of the Tigris and
Euphrates, from the
Persian gulpli to the
mountainous regions
of Ararat, and their
monarchs had found-
ed Nineveh and Ba-
bylon , before we hear
of the gardens of
S emirara is. The
Persian empire had
extended from the
Indus to the Archi-
pelago, when the pa-
radise of Sardis ex-
cited the astonish-
ment of a Spartan
general, and Cyrus
mustered the Gre-
cian auxiliaries in
the spacious garden
of Celiena-. Tlie Greeks had repulsed the in-
vasions of Darius and Xerxes, and Athens had
reached the height of her glory, when Cimon es-
tablished the Academus, and presented it to his
fellow-citizens as a public garden. Numerous
others were soon planted, and decorated with
temples, porticoes, altars, statues and triumphal
monuments ; but this was during the polished
age of Pericles, when Socrates and Plato taught
philosophy in the sacred groves ; when the theatre
was thronged to listen to the poetry of Euripides
and Aristophanes ; when the genius of Phidias
was displayed in rearing the Parthenon and
sculpturing the statues of the gods ; when elo-
tjucnce and painting had reached perfection, and
history was illustrated by Herodotus, Thuey-
dides and Xenophon. Rome had subjugated the
world, and emulated Athens in literature, science
and the arts, when the superb villas of Sallus,
Crassus, Pompey, Ca?sar, Marcenas and Agrjp-
pina, were erected, and the palaces of the em-
perors were environed by magnificent gardens.
The historv of modern nations presents similar
results. Horticulture long lingered in the rear
of other pursuits. But of late years, horticulture
has made rapid progress, and each nation is
emulous to perfect its culture, in accordance
with the best principles of science, art and taiic.
['^cf T Tke and thp T k
page 3';!ij, for dtscnption.]
EXHIBITION OF THE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY, AT MONTREAL, CANADA.
GLEASOX'S PICTOHIAL DRAWINCx IIOOM C0:MPANI()N.
333
FREDEIIICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATUKIN M. BALLOTJ, Editor.
COMTKKTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER.
"The Half- ^V ay Onk. or the Combat of Thirt\ ," a
fitory, by Henry iVilliam dERBBRT.
"The Walbridge Family," a Thanksgiring story, by
Mrs. Caroline Oiise.
" Turkey and the Turks," No. XII. relating to the Pub-
lic FouutuiDS. by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Autogmpha and Autography," So X1I[, by Wiluam
Edward Knowles, giriug the signatures of Francis A.
Durivage, Dr. JtroQie V. C- Smith, Frtdcrika Bremer, N.
C. Brook.'J, K. T. l^ickemian and Cheodore S. Fay.
"Travels in Palestine," No. XIV, rtlatiog to Damascus,
by Rev. F. U'. Holland.
"Death of Hon. Daniel Webstfir," Une3, by Ciboline
A. H.IYDEN.
•' A Maiden'3 Tears," a poem, by T. Eocrakan Read.
"Sympathy," verses, by Mrs. R. T. Eldredge.
"Cliristios," lines, by Jobn Weisiiampel.
" Dreams," a poem, by Phebe Cary.
" Memento .Mori, ' verses, by Edward Stagg.
" Hjmn to ihe Stars.' by Owen G Warren.
•* The Aeronaut," verses, by E. CuRTiss Hj>e, U S. N.
ILLUSTBATIONS.
We shall present our readers with a fine original view of
New York Bay, from Telegraph tit^ition, Staten island, by
our artist, Mr Wadr.
A very admirable series of pictures, representing the
new Fire Department of Berlin, Prussia.
Representing, firtt, the Fire Director, with his style of
uniform ; Second, the Master .Adviser ; third, the Fire In-
hpector . fourth, a Fu^ Engine, at Berlin, in operation ;
tfth, the Fire Ma.•^te^; si.\tn, the Firem-.'n; 5-eventh, the
IiDgine-man ; and eighth, a combined group of Firemen
>iith their Engine. Forming a capital series of scenes.
We shall give a very excellent and interesting picture,
by our artist, Mr. Dever^nx^ representing the Philadulphia
Fish Market.
A very perfect likeness and beautiful picture of Wallack
the elder, who is now the manager of \Vulla«k's Theatre,
Broadway, New York. By our ariist, Mr. Wallin.
A charucteriitic and large view, covering an entire page
of the Pictori.al, representing a scene verj approprinte lor
Thanksgiving Day, by our artist, Mr. Kilouni.
A large and effective picture, representing a vivid scene,
entitled, tne Refuge at ciie A.ltar.
An interesting engraving of the Chincha Guano fslands,
South Jjiierica.
U'e shall give a fac-simile of the Block of Marble, prc-
eented by the New k'ork liremen to tbe Washiuglun Mon-
ument. Drawn lor us by our artist, Mr. H rnck.
DIAMOND OF THE WORLD.
The Kohinoor diamond created great disap-
pointment in England at the time of the Great
Exhibition, as it did not shine with the lustre of
several smaller diamonds, and was of an irregu-
lar and clumsy shape. So much did it fall short
of the ideas that people were led to entertain of
it from its rejiuted value, that many doubted if
it were indeed tlie genuine gem. The cutting,
however, has brought out its beauties to the
highest degree of perfection, and with scarcely
any diminution in size it is now said to be the
richest jewel tliat has ever been seen, and the
real bona fide Kohinoor. Its estimated value is
£2,000,000 sterling, or $10,000,000.
SPLINTEES.
L perpe-
George Barrett is to be manager of a
theatre in Charleston, S. C, this winter.
.... Poe calls a beautiful woman
tual hymn to the Deity !" Good.
.... Australia, it appears, is a fine wine-grow-
ing country, as productive as Madeira.
Sontag may say of Boston, veni, vidt,
vici. She is the queen of song.
President Sparks has resigned his con-
nection with Harvard University.
A new and beautiful cemetery has been
consecrated in the town of Essex, in this State.
..... The editor of the Boston Post has won
any number of hats on the presidential election.
Arista, the Mexican President, has sent
some presents to Victoria's children.
Tardy justice has at last caused the libe-
ration of Abd el-Kadir from a French prison.
The temperance excitement in Ireland
proved only temporary, we regret to learn.
.... Boston now boasts a musical hall un-
rivalled throughout the world !
Miss Harriet Martineau is travelling in
Ireland, and writing letters to the London Times.
Mr. Webster is the second Secretary of
State who has died in office — Mr. Upshur the first.
Concord, N. H., refuses to receive the
city charter. A wise decision, very likelv.
Great liberality seems to characterize the
management of the new National Theatre.
We consider the Revere House, Boston,
decidedly the best hotel in this country.
OLD SPAIN.
The fortune of Spain in the new world affords
a singular proof of that inflexibility of justice
which sways the destinies of nations. The dis-
covery of America seemed to open to her a
boundless source of wealth and splendid power;
triumph awaited her arms in both North and
Sonth America. Cortez in Mexico, and Pizarro
in Peru, added vast territory and millions of
treasure to the national wealth. But those vic-
tories were stained by unheard-of cruelties, and
their history is the story of the worst passions of
the human heart. Ferocity, fanaticism and av-
arice held their sway in the new world, until at
last retribution came. One by one those ill got-
ten possessions have escaped the grasp of the
mother country, and now, in her old age, poor,
enfeebled and worn out, she clings, with the
death-gripe of a plundered and expiring miser,
to her la.st earthly possession in the new world.
To retain it, requires the exercise of prudence
and liberality; and prudence and liberality she
has never possessed.
In the event of a war breaking out between
this country and Spain, the advantage, as all the
world knows, would be entirely on our side. In
less than a fortnight after hostilities were de-
clared, the key of the Gulf would be in our
hands, never to be surrendered. The city of
Havana would immediately be forced to capitu-
late on penalty of being destroyed. The Span-
iards have made a great bugbear of the Moro
Castle — though it has itself been twice captured.
It is by no means so strong a position as San
Juan d' Ulloa ; and that, we all know, was thrice
taken — by the buccaneers, the French, under de
Joinville, and by our countrymen. Our heavy
shell guns would reduce the Moro in a few hours,
or our swift war steamers could shoot by the
castle, and coming to anchor in the harbor, open
upon the town out of harm's reach, compara-
tively speaking, from the Moro.
Let the word be given, and there will be no
trouble as to consummating the capture of Cuba.
Yankee courage and Yankee >kill are unmatched
throughout the world ; and if we had not thou-
sands upon thousands of disaffected inhabitants
to aid us from within the walls, we could even
then make an easy conquest of Havana and its
boasted Moro.
Gleason's Pictorial Drawixg-RoomCompaxiox. — This
is every way superior to anjthingof the kind ever attempt-
ed in the United Statts. On Gleason's stiirting this, two
or three other imitations were gotten up by men who ex-
pecttd to make a fortune. One was located in New York,
one in Cincinnati, and another in this city ; but they all
soon died, involving their owners in heavy lotses. That
in New York maintiuned vitality the longest, but was com-
pelled to yield up the ghost. But Gleason has been en-
abled to proceed with his enterprise, which has constantly
increased in popularity and uselulness. Che amount of
capital reciuired to be invested was absolutely enormous,
and the labor, art, talent and care required to give success
to the enterprise, cannot be conceived by one uninitiated.
I'he engraving i-cquired tne whole time of a large number
of experienced artistS. I'he most gifted men were emploi -
ed to make tlie designs. The best paper and elegant type
were used, and thus weekly appeared a vast sueet of Iti
super rojal quarto pages, tided with elegant thoughts, or
covered with graphic and lifelike pictures of grand views
of nature, art, cuutlagnitions, a^seuiblies, groups of iudi-
viUualfi, etc., — the wUole making a work duing credit to
Ameiicun art; and all tliisfor the paltry sum of lour dollars
a year. The engravings alone, in ottier hands, would have
cost amucn larger sum. Mr. Gleason ha^ proved himself
a man oi surprising resources and ever ready enterprise.
Both the Picwrial and Flag appear in excellent tasi^;, and
notniog is ever found in eitber that can otfend the mo?t
fastidious tiiste. Tne volumes of the Pictorial, bound, ate
au oruainent to any parlor, and its contents a fea^jt to tne
finest class of intellect. — O.ive Branch, Boston, Mass.
VERY GOOD.
One of our agents made 7unety dollars in the
last ten days, in selling our bound volumes of the
Pictorial. Another has made/oiii/ dollars in the
last week. This is profitable business surely,
and shows that the works in the hands of a smart
man will realize to hira a very large yearly in-
come. We have not made a practice of sending
out agents, but seeing how well the few that
have been engaged in the business have done,
we are still willing to try a few more.
Personal. — E. Curtiss Hinc, late gunner in
the U. S. navy, we observe, has been promoted
to a lieutenantcy in tlie revenue service. Lt.
Hinc is well known to our readers as a regular
contributor to the Pictorial.
Spacious. — We learn from "To-Day" that
the area of the stage of the National Theatre is
5700 feet. Roomy enough, certainly, for all
theatrical purposes.
CuRiotJs. — In Chaucer's works, there are at
least thirty thousand verses, which may be said
to be dedicated to love.
QfTERT.— What did the death of Tom Hood
occasion ? For fear you will guess it we will tcli
you — Widow-Hood.
THE NEW MUSICAL HALL.
One day last week we stepped into this spa-
cious and elegant new building, and were no less
surprised than delighted at its architectural beau-
ties and excellencies. We have not the pleasure
of knowing Mr. Snell, the architect, but do not
hesitate to pronounce him a man of true genius
in his profession ; and do most heartily congrat-
ulate all those interested in the enterprise of
constructing this hall, at the success that has
crowned their endeavors. The first impression
that strikes the visitor is that of vastness, impart-
ed by the great height of the hall, which is some
^/i;)een feet higher than Metropolitan Hall in
New Y'ork. The length is one hundred and
thirty feet, the width, seventy-eight feet, height,
sixty-five feet.
The spacious area thus formed is partially en-
circled by a narrow strip of galleries, capable of
seating only three rows of persons, and really
assuming the character of ornaments, rather than
divisions destined for use by the audience. The
coloring, gilding and ornamental work generally,
is of the most beautiful and harmonious charac-
ter, and good taste seems to have infused itself
into every design. Wc might dilate upon the
original and very perfect manner in which the
hall is lighted (with a view to the comfort of the
audience, as well as to rendering all objects in
the hall sufficiently visible), but we prefer to
leave our readers, with these brief remarks, to
become personally conversant with the new
musical hall.
T. BUCHANAN READ.
This young artist poet is steadily climbing the
steep of fame, and already is ranked by many as
equal in poetic power to Longfellow. A volume
of his poems has lately been republished in Lon-
don, most delicately and appropriately embel-
lished. Dropping into Mr. Read's studio a few
weeks since, in Philadelphia, we found the artist
at his easel, engaged upon the embodiment of a
most beautiful idea, poetically cxpicssed by Leigh
Hunt, in the lines commencing
" Ahou Ben Adhem. may his tribe increase,
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace."
Mr. Read has represented the scene where Abou
discovers the " angel writing in a book of gold."
The soft moonlight atmosphere of the room, the
unmistakable Eastern aspect of everything, the
iuqiiirinfj features of Abou, and the benign ex-
pression of the heaven-escaped spirit, challenged
our interest at once, and told in eloquent but
silent language the story of the scene.
A BOSTON MILLIONAIRE.
The Boston Mail states that the yearly income
of a certain rich citizen of this city would buy
twelve hundred farms. His income, six per
cent, on his entire wealth, would amount, daily,
to more than the wages of two hundred hard-
working men. His income would buy a bottle
of Schneider, or a pair of boots every three min-
utes. Every breath the old man takes is worth
another ninepcnce. His enormous capital com-
mands the toil of one thousand laborers and me-
chanics yearly to pay the interest.
THE HOME JOURNAL.
This favorite and excellent weekly paper, ed-
ited by Messi-s. Morris & Willis, of New York,
is one of our favorite exchanges. Mr. Willis's
letters at present form a prominent feature of
the Journal, while the polished pen of the poet
editor. General Morris, is evident in every num-
ber. The Home Journal holds a high rank
among the periodical literature of the day, and
richly merits the large degree of success which
it realizes.
" The Volunteer : or, T/ie Maid of Monte-
rey."— This interesting novelette, a story of the
Mexican war, having been long out of print, we
have just issued a new edition, and can now
supply all orders. It is for sale at all of the
periodical depots.
Mr. Weustfr's Decease. — The nation sin-
cerely mourns the loss of its well-beloved son.
The reader will find a choice tribute, on another
page, to the memory of the departed, from our
valued contributor, Mrs. Sigournev.
" The Maid of Alder Valley." — Need we
call attention to this beautiful poetic gem, on
another page, from the pen of Alice Carey ?
Quaint. — The last words of a good old man,
Mr. Grimshaw, on his death-bed were these :
" Here goes an unprofitable servant !"
Tn this city, by Rev. Mr. Elakie, Mr. James Taylor to
Miss Margaret P. Bowman.
Bv Rev. Mr. Fox, Mr. Robert S. Bailey to Mrs, Etannah
C. Uavden.
By ilev. Dr. Vinton, Mr. T. Jefferson Coolidge to Miss
Hetty S. Appleton.
By Rev. Mr. Smithctt, Mr. John Grant to Miss Susan
A. Aiken.
Ey Rev. Mr. Coolidge, Mr. Charles Morse to Miss Alice
M. Arnold.
By Rev. Mr. Dexter, Mr. Albert S. Wright, of Wooster,
Ohio, to Miss Phebe Jane Fowle.
At Roxbnry, by Rev. Dr. Putnam. Mr. Edward Bartlett
to MissEUzabeth H Weld.
At Charlestown, by Rev. Mr. Ellis, Mr. George L. Prea-
cott, of Concord, to Miss Sarah B. Edcs.
At Medford, by Rev. Mr. Ballon, Mr. Francis Shedd to
Mrs. Elizjvbeth H. Page.
At Salem, by Rev. Dr. Emerson, Mr. Otis J. Howard, of
Tynesborough, to Miss Lucy A. Glover.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Spalding, Mr. George H.
Mixer to Miss Melissa Currier.
At Worcester, bv Rev. Mr. Mndge, Mr. Geo. A. Hardy
to Miss Susan M. Bride,
At Springfield, by Rev. Mr. Ford, Mr. Henry Foulds to
Miss Polly .S. Leland.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Lowe, Mr. John A. W.
Powell to Miss Susiin G. Spooner.
At Exeler, N. H., Mr. William A. Goodwiu, of Portland,
Me., to Mi?s Belinda K. Shaw.
At Newport, K I . bv Rev. Dr. Choulea, J. James Ellis,
M.D., to Miss Martha G. Choules
DEATHS ><%7s^^.
In *his city, Mr Joseph Williston, ; 6 ; Miss Elizabeth
H. Greene, 27 ; Mrs. L\ dia Richards, 41 ; George James,
son of Mr. George Little, 1 year and 9 months ; Sirs. Mury
Butler, 62 ; Mr. William D. Timson, 84 ; George P., son of
Mr. John H. Riley. 2 ; Mr. Abel Hubburd, 73 ; Mr. Nathan
B. Lawrence, 63; Miss Ann Jane Hill, 49; Mr. Joseph H.
Bryant 37.
At Cam bridgeport, Mrs Esther, wife of Mr. Ja's S. Dut-
ton. 20, formerly of Haverhill. N. li.
At Chelsea, M"r. Daniel mgalla Morse, 33.
At Newton. Dea, Benjamin Eddy, 88.
At Waltham, Mr. Elisha Crefaore, 26.
At Woburn, Mrs. Susannah I'ults, 69.
At Methutn, Mrs. Lucy P. Hall 53
At Lowell, Mr. Albert Frje, printer, 22.
At Rowley, Mr, Daniel Moody, 78.
At Rojalston, Mr. Hezekiah Nekton, 65.
At Newbnryport, Maj. Jothua Greenleaf, 86.
At Bloomttld, Me., Mrs Priscilla Morton, >Z.
At SaxonviUe, Mrs. Harriet L. VTheelock, 26.
At Worcester, Miss Susannah Gardner, b3.
At WinchendOQ Mr. Jason Gooilale, 72
At New Bedfoid, Mr. Joshua Omans. 83.
At SpriLgtield. Mrs. Charlotte aolfman Lydston, 31.
At Westfield, Mr. Roswell Brown, Go-
At Deerfield, Mr. Abner Goodnough, 87.
At Holden, Mrs. Lydia Maria Boiden, of Worcester, 32.
At Portland, Me., Alits carah Greenleaf, 74.
At Mew ipsttich, N. H,, Jcseph Barrett, Esq., 78.
At Hollis, N. H.. Mr Daniel Morrill, 91.
At New loik, R.v. Ilenry Belden, of Port Chester, 68.
Ik m%mEwm m^mmM,
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL
Bfrtwutg-Uoottt (!l0ttt^rtnt0n.
A. Ilecord of tlie beautiful and useful in Ari.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a ivcckly Htcrary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns arc devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEKICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced ^rith wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notible objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in ita design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant Bervice, with fine and accui-ate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and fcir.a'.c.
Sketches of beautiful ecencr}-, taken from life, will also be
given, with numei'ous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the aii", and the fish of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and Ei.'cty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it uliords, and tlie rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest ai.'l
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiaing all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for ita
tombined excellencies.
TEEMS: $2 00 PEE TOLXTME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNU.M
lNV.\l:lABLr IX .KDVAXCE.
Each .six months completes a volume, commerioing on
the trot of January and July ; thus making two volumca
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
\SZr" One copy ol tlie J-'lao of our Uxiox. and one copy
of the PlCTOlUAL Dlt.iWIKG-KOOil COMP.iMO.N, OLC \ ear,
for Sy 00.
[n7=- The PicTOKiAL Drawin'g-Uoom Compamos may be
obtained at any of t!ie periodical depots throughout the
country, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single topy
Published every hjATUr.DAT, bv
F. GLEASON, Boston, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WINCH, 116 t hestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, TAVI OR & Co., Ill Baltmiore St., Ealtimow.
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Q^ Subscription.': received at either of the a^e**- p/ac«.
334
GLEASON'S riCTOPJAL DP.AWING P^OOM COMPANION.
[Writtpn for OUiuHon'H Pictorial.]
THOUGHTS
ON URAUTXO ST. JOHN'S BKI-L AT A DISTANCE.
BT DB. I'REUEItlOK HOUOK.
Those solomii poundfl, mclotliouHly in distance mellowed hcl-di,
Like inoruiuK'fl muflic o'er the landscape of a dream;
Sweet an my motlier'n voice thoy roll, when in my early years
I bowed beside bor gentle knee, in tondernesa and tenra.
Softly unto my ears thoRo tones the balmy brooze has given,
As melody tVom golden harjtR, In yonder halls of heaven ;
WTiere angel choirs in prayer and praiae, in sweetest accontd slug,
Amid the gardens of the blest, and one eternal spring.
That bell has mourned o'er many a. henrt, within the silent gi*ave,
The city of the dead, where sleep the beautiful and bravo;
And many a living breast that bled in eohtude alone,
O'er faded hopes and blighted blisa, that once so brightly shone.
0, there is nothing in this world so cruel to the heart.
As from the friends bo long beloved that wc are doomed to part ;
To stand beside the awful grave, and weep the last farewell,
0, this is agony indeed, no human tongue can tell.
Ah, mournful boll, thou tellest mo of the vain things of life.
How vain this world of care and sin, of wretchedness and strife;
Thy tongue is eloquent with tones that sink into my heart,
And wakes me to a consciousness that I must soon depart.
I've pleasure Eought in fortune, fame and grandeur's gayest halls,
And in the bowers of beauty moved, where fairy footstep falls ;
But, like the bubble on the sea, it broke in empty air.
And thus my brilliant hope hath been the beacon of despair.
My knell of life is tolled in heaven, I hear the trumpet's blast,
Creation's clock hath struck the hour, perhaps for me the last;
Farewell, 0 v:un and vicious joys, I bid ye alt adieu,
Should death delay, my heart shall seek rehgion's pleaaures true.
[Written for Gleason'a Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. XUI.
BT EEV. F. W. HOLLAND.
THE BEDOUINS.
We had fallen in with part of tlie powerful tribe of Beni-Sakhara
Arabs, and were readily received in the tent of their sheik, who
gave up the whole of his own accommodations, consumed all his
wood in a vain endeavor to make us comfortable, offered our men
a share of his untempting supper, and treated us with the real
Mocha, roasted, ground and drunken almost at the same moment.
It was the first hospitality I had found in passing over some seven
thousand miles ; and it meant something. Not that we had any
luxuries for which to be grateful, or even the possibility of a
night's rest, or anything to brace up the exhausted frame ; but,
that all he could do was heartily done, without the possibility of
our compensating him in any way. Hasscin, our host, described
himself as a bachelor of thirty years, the owner of twelve cows, a
hundred goats, and a hundred and fifty sheep; the captain over
eight hundred persons, and a tribute taker from every caravan
■which i>asses through his territory. Were any substantial return
made for tliis toll upon travel, and a reasonable limit set to the
amount, there would not be so much cause of complaint at the
sum which each one must pay to visit the Dead Sea. But, noth-
ing whatever has the Bedouin ever done, even to mark the ford of
the river, or render the mountain-pass less perilous. And, while
the feeble stranger may be stripped of everything, and then sent
back to his starting-point, an expedition like tliat under Captain
Lynch is sure to pass scot free.
And yet, there are some noble traits among these wanderers, as
the word BeJouin means. They are honest to a proverb. " The
bar of iron may be broken ; but the word of an honest man, nev_
er," is true to the letter, of them. More than once, Captain Lynch
advanced money to his Arabian escort, and could not obtain from
them even a receipt ; but they did not seem to know what perfidy
was. Their pledged word was as good as a bond. It is said,
too, that whenever a loaded camel dies on the journey, the Arab
owner simply draws a circle around him in the sand, and is quite
safe in leaving his goods for months under this guard of honor*
On his way to Akabah, Dr. Robinson saw a black tent hanging
on a tree, which he was assured had been left just so for a lono-
time, and was in no danger of being taken away by any save the
owner. Burckhardt was shown a place in the rocks, where one
of the Tawarah tribe had thrown down his own son for a theft,
leaving his mangled remains to the wild beasts and wilder birds
of the Sinai wilderness.
Their temperance, too, is equally amazing, and docs not desert
them among the temptations of the city. The intoxicating drink
which others make from rice, especially in Southern Asia, re,
mains unknown to the Arab. He has no name for wine, cannot
be persuaded to taste it, and permits himself nothing stronger
than a tiny cup of clear black cofi'cc ; while a beggar's boy among
us would not be satisfied with his best meal. But they arc
not cleanly. No one ever sees them wash anyihing more than
their feet; yet they cat in oriental fashion with their hands alone;
sleep in the same raiment winch they wear all day long, and do
not notice the swarm of vermin which breed in their tents.
They have a profound contempt of labor, which makes tiiom
such a scourge to a country. One of their chiefs, when asked
why he did not till his fertile lands, instead of living a robber's
life, replied : " Would you have me disgrace myself by cujiivating
the ground, like one of these k-Unhs ?" It is not so strange, under
this feeling, that the Bedouin strips tlio ground of itw half-ri])0
crop, or takes tlic wliolc stock of the peasant when the Iwirvcut
has been gathered in. He really despises the calling of the hus-
bandman. Their religion U the worst part of tliem. Nominally
Mussulmcn, tlic wandering tribes live with hardly any manifesta-
tions of piety. Professedly too poor to practise alms-giving, too
short for water to make the required ablutions, too ignorant of the
direction of Mecca to perform their devotions towards it, they are
seldom seen to pray, are unacquainted even with the forms of
supplication, hardly any of them make the holy pilgrimage to
Mecca, the only festival which tliey ever observe is the Kamadan
fast, and their mouths arc full of cursing. The superior of tlie
Sinai Convent was asked if the Bedouins would make any objec-
tion to professing Christianity. " None whatever," was the reply,
"if they could only get fed by their religion." A missionary,
speaking their language and adopting their customs, would no
doubt possess all the influence he could ask; but no permanent
good could be done until their unsettled habits were changed for
systematic agriculture ; and ^W, nothing but some person invested
with a supcmatural character like Mahommed can hope to effect.
The city seems a prison to them, and the population, slaves. A
peculiar dreaminess of mind, wliich these vast solitiules inspire in
every one, is the only intoxication of the desert Arab. He sel-
dom laughs, is never weary of musing, loves his cattle as he does
his children, and dotes still, as in the days of Haroun El Raschid,
on the melancholy tale recited 6ver his solitary cqmp fire.
A troop of beautiful, dark-eyed children gathered round us in
the spacious tent, and we sun-endered ourselves, our pockets, and
especially our watches for inspection ; all was a wonder to them,
even the cloth of our European coats, which they felt of as if it
were a real living skin. What stories must have been made
among themselves over these strange beings who were spending a
night under their camel's hair tent! In how many "Nights' En-
tertainments " these viziers or caliphs may have figured in feats
of daring, or labyrinths of love !
But, after all, none of us enjoyed that camping on Galilee soil.
A chilling east wind swept all night through the half-open tent,
assisting the fleas in keeping us awake to our strange position,
making the poor picketed horses struggle to get nearer our dying
fire, and ensuring us stiffened limbs for the next day. Indeed, it
was not well to sleep that night. A thousand stars looked up
lovingly to us from the lake, over which we seemed to be the only
watclicrs. Merom spread in the distance her curious form, and
between, the holy river wound its way, now through thickets
where wild beasts were roaming, and now beneath yellow walls of
precipitous rock. All nature seemed hushed. No cry came from
child or woman around us, none from the city across the water,
or the khan between. After refreshing ourselves from some ham,
which we had not touched in presence of the Arabs for fear of
offence, we tried to stir the blood by a rapid walk ; but the watch-
dogs turned us back on every side, and we were obliged to recall
the Psalm — " More than those that watch for the morning," a hun-
dred times before morning came, and we started with the first
blush of dawn over the stony and barren plain leading to Sasa.
This place is really a riddle. I may speak of it the more freely
because it has been so rarely visited — the ordinary route for trav-
ellers leading through Cesarea Philippi, where they are shown the
pretended source of the Jordan, whose real fountain head is at
Hasbeuja. After riding for a full day over an absolute wilder-
ness, not quite treeless, but monotonous, bleak, level and unpro-
ductive, in full sight of Hermon, which is named Jebel-sheik,
" master-mountain," and travelling at times over a ruined Roman
road, like the Appian Way, somelimes very dangerous and some-
times quite perfect, we reached with the fall of night a walled and
fortified city. Externally, Sasa was as nice as need be; but this
was only a whitewashed sepulchre. The streets were so piled up
with soft mud that we could not alight from our horses, who found
the utmost difficulty in wading through the heapedup filth to a
khan, that was really not so good a shelter as our poorest stable
at home. And right opposite to this hotel was the only mosque
of the place — a mere mass of ruins, its walled enclosure broken,
and its sacred court covered with weeds and fragments of building.
But I was never more perplexed with any place in my life.
Who built this stronghold, and who ruined it ? Who cared to
make such a broad stone street, miles upon miles, to a town which
never could have had anything in itself? And who again was so
foolish — not to say, wicked — to take all this pains to destroy if?
Here were sixty Turkish families, lazy, unclean, miserable, pfl.s-
turing a few flocks in the surrounding desert, feeding upon the
few passengers that come their way, defiling an elegant strong-
hold, perhaps of the Crusaders, just as Arab huts disgrace many
an Egyptian temple. The inhabitants are as ignorant as their
visitors can be of the origin of their town ; they have not sense
enough even for a tradition. None of them know who made or
who unmade the only road in the country. The very animal life
in them seemed to be faint and fluttering. Their disgusting heaps
of hovels was well terminated by a city gate, broken down and
incapable of defence.
The next day was most wretched ; the rain fell in torrents,
drenching us to the skin. Swollen streams had to be crossed, our
horses were evidently tired out, and also their masters. But an
entirely different region was receiving us in its generous arras —
clean looking villages became numerous, mulberry groves greeted
us with their thick green, and enclosed gardens, spacious khans
and comfortable houses seemed springing up as if by enchant-
ment. And this was the famous Assyrian plain ; thoroughly
watered by the prettiest little rivulets in the world, finely wood-
ed by a luxiuiant growth of walnut, mulberry, poplar, fig, citron,
pomegranate and orange trees, so vast in extent, and so perpetu-
ally productive, that I wonder not the Turk calls it a paradise.
[Written for Gleaflon'B Pictorial.]
AUTOGRAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DlSTmGUISHED rfTDrTIDUAIS.
No. XII.
BT WM. EDWABD KNOWLE8.
Mit. MiTCiiKLL has written something beautiful in the way of
songs, which have been very popular. Wc believe that he has
written a volume of poems. Ilis chirography is clear and legible.
These traits are well shown in the signature, although this is not
so well marked as is usually the ease with his manuscript. Wc
like such a manuscript as Mr. MitehcU's. It is straight forward
and manly, witli sutlicient finish to show care and precision.
Dr. Eatile writes a beautiful manuscript. His poems are
among the most graceful of our language ; and are always char-
acterized by more than usual finish. His "Marathon," in our
opinion, is equal to " Marco Bozzaris," or even "Thanatopsis,"
The hand is very legible and graceful, and resembles that of a fe-
male ; but the matter conveyed tJirough its agency is often weighty
and sound beyond the ordinary efforts of the poets of the day,
who float rather in an atmosphere of fancy than one of fact.
W. GiLMORE SiiMMS has been styled the "Bulwer of America;"
but they are far different from each other. He is superior to Bul-
wer in his perception of the graceful ; but in beauty lie is deficient
to a certain extent. As a poet he has done well ; and has written
thoughts that linger in the mind like the recollection of some goi'-
geous sunset. His handwriting has much slope, and suggests
gracefulness and perfect freedom. The signatm-e illustrates this
in an admirable manner.
c^ a''^a^<^h^ ^""y^
The handwriting of the late James Fennimore Cooper was
decidedly bad. Of the two lying before us, one seems to have
been written with a steel pen, the other with a quill ; and both are
frightful in tlie extreme. Yet he possessed talent of the highest
order, and left a name imperishable. It is difl^cult to draw much
of an inference from such a specimen of chirography as his signa-
ture displays; but there is a strange inconsistency, to our eye,
between it and his matter.
^^
^/^-T/~ [X/V-VA^^
a ^6, y-
The readers of the Pictorial are fully aware of the powers of
Mr. Codb as a writer; his prolific pen has often contributed to
their edification and pleasure. His manuscript is distinct, not at
all affected, but manly and easy to read. Mr. Cobb promises to
do still better than he has yet done, and his improvement has
been rapid and obvious.
Mrs. Caroline Orne is a regular contributor to our columns,
and is a very popular and delightful writer. Her manuscript is
original, unlike any that we ever receive — regular, plain, and very
correct. Her signature as given above is a fine representation of
her usual hand. Mrs. Orne is a lady of much cultivation and an
industrious authoress.
Dr. Howe is a practical philanthropist, and is known through-
out this country and Europe, as the great friend of education, es-
pecially among the blind. The blind mute, Laura Bridgman, is
a protege of Dr. Howe's, and we are indebted to his kindness for
her autograph presented below. The doctor writes a plain,
straight forward hand. When Imrried, it is somewhat illegible,
but on the whole is a good hand, nevertheless. Like its author,
it is subject to great variation, at times evincing a nervous and
uneasy feeling.
Xii
iirra
St vd I
imorx.
The signature of this remarkable girl is vciy peculiar. It is
precise, regular, and like her manuscript — how strange it seems
to think that she can write at all — is wonderfully uniform and
neat. Blind, dcof and dumb, h seems little short of miraculous
that she could be taught to read and write ! Yet Laura is very
intelligent, and is really, in many respects, highly accomplished.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
335
CHARITY.
It is hard for the judgment to keep pace with
the heart where our sympathies are challenged.
How often, do we pass with difficulty the out-
stretched hand of the street beggar, how often
fear we have done wrong in not giving,
and how often fear we have given unwisely.
No rule will seem to fairly apply to the matter,
and it is difficult for one to know how to act.
We have just met with an article in. the London
Examiner which has set us to thinking upon this
subject. " A person who gives alms at random,"
says the editor, " may be compared to one who
fires at random among a crowd. There is a
seed of social mischief in every ill-bestowed
bounty, though the eye does not see what the
heart rues. How many a criminal has to curse
the careless hand that first encourages him in a
life of idleness, imposture and vagrancy."
INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS,
The important ship canal which is to unite
hikes Supei-ior and Michigan will soon be begun.
The surveys for the location have been comple-
ted, and the ground has been found quite as fa-
vorable for the easy and speedy construction of
the work as was expected. Several routes have
been surveyed, which will enable the legislature
of Michigan and contractors to obtain a perfect
understanding of the whole subject. The canal
will be a fraction, less than a mile in length.
The law of Congress provides that the locks
shall be at least 250 feet long and 60 feet wide,
and the Michigan legislature has power to en-
large the dimensions.
FEARFUL INFLUENCE.
At Munich on the 9th ultimo, a criminal was
beheaded. A crowd surrounded the scaffold,
and as soon as the culprit's head fell, the people
rushed as if frenzied, to dip pieces of rag and
paper in the sti'caming blood, as charms against
certain diseases, and copies of their numbers in
lottery, to insure their being drawn prizes. The
scene was fearful, from the incredible amount of
superstition displayed. It is a fearful example,
to hold up before the people, this taking of life
publiclly !
UNFORTUNATE.
"We are sorry to learn by our foreign exchanges
that the late Duke of Wellington leaves but a
poor representative of his honorable and proud
name. The mantle of the father falls not upon
the son. The Duke of Welliugtou, known as
the Marquis of Donro, who succeeds the Iron
Duke, has been a very steady worker in those
fields where " wild oats " arc sown. He has
been a " mauvais sujet," unprincipled in his ca"
reer, unkind to his wife, and has neither talent
nor character to adorn his new title.
Heavt Operation. — A monster blast by
gunpowder, fired by means of a galvanic battery,
took place lately at Fumess quarry, on Loclifine,
near Inverary. It is computed that 40,000 tons
of granite have been torn up, varying in size
from five tons downwards. The total charge of
powder was 6000 pounds.
Loss OF Life at Sea. — The British ship
Maise of Queenstown (Cork), was struck by
lightning off Malta, and completely destroyed.
X'ourtcen lives were lost, which comprised the
crew and two passengers.
Personal. — We had the pleasure of meeting
H. Fuller, Esq., editor of the New York Mirror,
the other day. Mr. Fuller is a sound critic, a
little radical, but honest, and polished in his
stylo.
Newspapers. — The newspaper is a law-hook
for the indolent, a sermon for the thoughtless, a
library for the poor. It may stimulate the most
indifferent, it may instruct the most profound.
Not the slightest doubt it. — A young
lady being asked whether she should wear a wig
when her hair turned gray, replied with the great-
est earnestness, *' O, I'll die first."
Whale Oil. — More oil has been taken this
season by the American whalers than was ever
taken before in one season.
Medical. — The best line of business for a
medical man to follow is a railway line.
Liberal.— 01c Ball has subscribed $50,000
to the Sanbury and Erie Kailroad.
toawaiirc ©atljmuga.
The railroad on the Isthmus was going for-
ward with despatch.
The Isle of Wight is to he strongly fortified
at an expense of £60,000.
The prospects of the republic of Liberia are
brightening daily.
The cholera has made its appearance in Cali-
fornia, and on the Plains.
A contractor on the Central Illinois Eailroad
has disappeared with $20,000 in drafts.
Mr. James Peints, U. S. marshal for Virginia,
died on Friday, 22d ult., at Staunton.
The London Morning Herald fears a combi-
nation between France and the United States.
Judge Sullivan, formerly state treasurer of
Ohio, died a few days ago. He was a native of
Delaware.
The Home Journal justly censures the players
at Wallack's Theatre for attempting to improve
Shakspeare !
A judge in Louisville has decided that chil-
dren must go to school, and that parents who
do not send them will be punished.
It is said that the Pope has refused to visit
France for the purpose of assisting at the coro-
nation of Louis Napoleon.
Horace Mann, of Mass., is to become a citizen
of Ohio, he having accepted the Presidency of
Antioch College.
Prof. Lowell Mason has been lecturing, with
acceptance, on music, before the London Me-
chanics' Institute.
Col. T. C. Sharp, one of the pioneers of Ken-
tucky, and a soldier in the late war, died in
Hopkiaville, Ky., last week.
The first importation of ice direct fi"om Boston
via Cape Horn, has arrived at Panama, and is
selling at 15 and 20 cents a pound.
The American ship Hoogley, from San Fran-
cisco, was totally lost while going up the Shan-
ghai river, on the llth of August last.
Mr. T. P. Cooke, now in his 73d year, has
been lately playing some of his favorite nautical
characters at the Theatre Koyal, Edinburgh.
Out of respect to the memory of the Iron
Duke, the name of the new vessel, " Windsor
Castle," has been altered to that of the "Duke
of Wellington."
A telegraph despatch from St. Joseph states
that Major Norwood, Indian agent, was recently
killed at Sargent's Bluffs, in an atfray with
another individual.
The Panama railroad is in good order, and
the cars run twice a day to Barbacoa. The
boatmen on Chagrcs river had made an unsuc-
cessful attempt to burn the railroad bridge.
A pensioner at Bristol, England, was recently
struck off' the list by the Chelsea commissioners
for carrying about a bill issued by the Peace
Society to deter persons from joining the militia.
Md'lle. Emile Baron, the dauseuse, was se-
verely burned at the Varieties Theatre, St. Louis;
on the night of the 12th ult., by her clothes
catching fire.
Hon. Edward McGaugney, formei'ly a mem-
ber of Congress from Indiana, recently died on
board a steamer, on the passage from Panama
to San Francisco.
Capt. Marcy, whom the telegraph killed off so
often, in an Indian engagement out West, some
time since, is at present in New York, lying very
ill at the house of his father.
The prizes to the London Exhibition at the
Crystal Palace last year, were distributed on
Friday, September 25th, at the London Tavern,
Baron Rothschild in the chair.
Mr. T. F. Meagher, the Irish exile, will de-
liver lectures before the Mercantile Library of
New York, Albany, Rochester, St. Louis, and
other places during the winter.
The Journal of Commerce states that Presi-
dent Fillmore has consented to sit for a full
length portrait, at the request of a number of his
friends in New York.
An amorous swain, aged 70, was recently
married to his sixth wife, in Cincinnati, and was
serenaded by one of those lawless Calithumpian
bands that are a disgrace to civilized society.
The price of railroad iron in England has
gone up from $21 to $31 per ton. This adds,
under our ad valorem tariff, $6 per ton to the
duly, thus increasing the protection on our side.
Hon. Franklin E. Plummer died recently, at
Jackson City, Miss., in great destitution. At
one time he only lacked two votes of beating
Hon. Robert J. Walker for U. S. Senator.
_ Mary Burr, the last of the Piinkaquag Indians,
died at Canton, Massachusetts, recently, aged
101 years. There are many half and 'quarter
bloods of that tribe, but none of full blood.
A woman dressed in man's clothes, attempted
to vote in the fourth district. New York, lately,
but the inspectors, much to her disappointment,
rejected her vote.
A letter from Kossuth, addressed to the Con-
gress of the American Revolutionary Fund for
Europe, appears in the newspapers, in which he
gives encouraging accounts of the progress of the
liberal cause in Eui-ope.
Mr. Reuben Squires, of Chelsea, Vt., has
raised a beet which beats the Webster beet, or
any other beet we have yet heard fiom. It
weighed when it had been out of the ground a
week and was free from dirt and tlie small roots,
fourteen pounds and six ounces.
JTorcign ililisallang.
Lord Rollo, a Scotch nobleman, is dead.
The queen of Portugal has forbidden the wear-
ing of beards in her army.
The yacht America has triumphed in a race
with a new Swedish yacht by twenty minutes.
The king of the two Sicilies has created Baron
Antonio, his representative in Paris, a marquis.
The owner of the yacht America has chal-
lenged the yachts of all nations, except America,
to sail for £500 or .£1000.
The Duchess of Orleans is very ill at Lau-
sanne, Switzerland. Prince Alexander, of Prus-
sia, has gone to visit her.
Madame Batka, once a German prima donna
of note, much admired by Schiller, died lately,
at Prague, aged 88.
Sir H. Bulwer's mission to Rome is said to
have been with the view of obtaining from the
pope a disclaimer of Irish clergy in political
matters.
The subscription made in Spain, for the bene-
fit of the families of those killed and wounded in
the Lopez affair in Cuba, amounts to 28,000
piastres.
The English papers announce, as a great curi-
osity, the "resignation of a living bishop," in
the person of the Right Rev. Dr. Eden, Bishop
of Meray and Ross.
Madame Celeste made her first appearance at
the Adelphi (her own theatre), London, since
her return from America, on the 4th ult., as
Miami, in " Green Bushes."
It is stated that Mr. Gifford has been success-
ful at the Paris Hippodrome, with his new flying-
machine, which is copied after that projected by
Mr. Robjohn, of New York.
A Chinese New Testament, printed with metal
types, and of a superior character, has been for-
warded to the directors of the London Missionary
Society, and is sold for fourpence.
A boatman, named Brice, living at Spalding,
near London, recently had one side of his lower
jaw, which was mortally diseased, removed by
the saw in an operation of thirty-six minutes !
He is doing wxll.
The Prussian ambassador has ordered all na-
tives of Prussia engaged as workmen in Switzer-
land, to return to their native country, for fear of
being contaminated by the democratic doctrine
prevalent among the Swiss.
A watchmaker named Vital-Maneau, residing
in Paris, having, as he believed, succeeded, after
thirty-three years^ labor, in constructing a per-
petual motion machine, on the 2d ult., died of
apoplexy, from excess of joy !
J0anir0 of ©clb.
Genius may adopt, but never steals.
AH are ready to punish a bad action —
few to reward a good one.
.... The opinion of a fool is of more value
than the oath of a hypocrite.
.... A spare and simple diet conti'ibutes to
the prolongation of life.
True bravery is as far removed from
recklessness as it is from timidity.
.... Time marks the title page of our lives,
death the finis, and the grave becomes the
binding.
.... Superficial knowledge is like oil upon
water — it shines deceitfully, but can easily be
skimmed off.
.... God hath given to mankind a common
library — his works; and to every man a proper
book — himself.
.... Glory is well enough for a rich man, but
it is of very little consequence to a poor man
with a large family.
.... They who shake their head at irregular
beauties, are like divines w^ho will not admit
good works without faith.
.... Talent and art must go hand in band.
Birds rise not by means of their wing-feathers
only, but by those which guide their flight.
.... Real fidelity may be rare, but it exists
in the heart. They only deny its worth and
power, who never loved a friend, nor labored to
make a friend happy.
Prudes, who take fire so easily at the
slightest intimation of impropriety, are like
punk, which catches fire instantly, after having
been once burned.
The world was not made in a day —
neither can any hope to gain wealth by sudden ef-
forts ; for the sudden efforts that are now-a-days
made, are not a whit better than none at all.
A beautifal sentiment is the following,
by the celebrated Logan: "Over all the move-
ments of life, religion scatters her favors, but re-
serves the choicest, her divine blessing, for the
last hour."
Glancing over a page of Blackwood, re-
cently, we met with this observation: — "There
is but one way of being correct and agreeing
with everybody ; it is to say nothing that can be
of any possible use to any one."
.... There is a sacredness in tears. They
are not the mark of weakness, but of power !
They speak more eloquently than ten thousand
tongues. They are the messengers of ovpr-
whelming grief, of deep contrition, and of un-
speakable love.
lokft's Suiigct.
To what race of giants do tipplers belong'?
To the Titans (tight 'uns), of course.
A lady down east has sent for one of Espy's
ventilators to prevent her husband from smoking.
The man who hung himself with a chord of
music, lias been cut down with a sharp east wind.
A widow, when her pastor said to her : " God
has not deserted you in your old age," replied:
" No, sir ; I have a very good appetite still."
Punch insists there will be no security to rail-
way passengers until a director is compelled, by
act of parliament, to travel with every train.
One day, a person pointed out a man who had
a profusion of rings on his fingers, to a cooper.
" Ah, master," said the artizan, " it's a sure sign
of weakness when so many hoops are used."
Love, like the measles, is rather a juvenile
complaint. Who, for instance, ever knew a
widower to die from mixing a broken heart with
sixpence worth of arsenic %
A Frenchman thinks the English language is
very tough. " Dare is lookout," he says, "which
is to put out your head and see ; and look out,
which is to haul in your head and not for to see
— just contrairie.
The following advertisement appeared in an
Irish paper : " Whereas, John Hall has fraudu-
lently taken away several articles of wearing
apparel without my knowledge, this is therefore
to inform him that if he does not forthwith return
the same, his name shall be made public."
An English gentleman observing an uneccle-
siastical looking building, asked a hoy whose
factory it was. The sharp-witted lad, after an
involuntary consultation with the crown lawyers,
replied : " Mr. Kinnear's." " Ay, and what does
he manufacture here?" "Sinners into saints,
sir !" was the ready answer.
" I sells peppermints on Sundays," remarked
a good old lady who kept a candy shop, " because
they carries 'em to church and eats 'em, and
keeps awake to hear the sermon ; but if you want
pickled limes you must come week days. They
are secular commodities." Quite a nice dis-
tinction.
VOLTTMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes lat and 2d of the Pictorial Drawing
Room OoaiPANiOK elegantly bound in cloth, mth gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, fomiing a superb and mott
attractive pai-lor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AHD CONTAINING HEAELT
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructiTe subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pagfs
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and No' -
elettes, from the best of American anthori. with a current
News llecord of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrationfl.
For sale ^t the Publication Office, by our Wholesa'e
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout tt e
Union, for Three DoUars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR MIOI,
AN ELEGANT, MOEAL AND IlEFIi!!,^
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expi^cssly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, -^Jid on
all sectJirian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns j
thereforo making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOR THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME TISITOR TO THE HO:!iIE CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly paper in the United States, and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
£0 condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entii'e sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every departnent is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundi'eds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any .
other weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO SUBSCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year S2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 " " : . . . e 00
8 " " 11 00
16 « " 20 00
One copy of the Fi,Aa of our Union, and one copy of the
PiCTORL^L Drawing-room Companion, ono year, fcr S5 00.
[Cr' Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and.form clubs, on the above terms.
]Cr' -All orders should be addressed, POST paid, to the
PUBLISUER OF THE FLAG OP COR UNION.
'\* The Flag, can be obtained at any of the newspap^
depots in the United Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUE CENT8 per siii^l: copy.
P. GLEASON,
Publisher and Proprietor, CostoNj Mass. -
336
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
WILD PIGEONS.
Mr. Audubon, in his OrnithoIoRicftl Biog-
raphy, ^ives a curious and intcrcstinj:; iicfount
of tho Hi^ht of these birds. He says that in
passing over the barrens, a few miles from
Ilardensburgh, he observed tlie pigeons flying
from northeast to southwest, in greater num-
berw than ho had ever seen them before ; and
feeling an inclination to count the flocks that
might pass within tho roach of his eye in one
liour, he seated himself on an eminence, and
began to mark with his pencil, making a dot
for every tloek that passed. In a short time
finding the task impracticable, as the birds
jjoured in in countless multitudes, he rose,
and counting tho dots already put down,
found that one hundred and sixty-three had
been made in twenty-one minutes. He then
travelled on, and still met more as he pro-
ceeded. Tho air was literally filled with pig-
eons ; the light of noonday was obscured as
by an eclipse, the dung fell in spots not unlike
melting flakes of snow, and the continued
buzz of wings had a tendency to lull his senses
to repose. While waiting for his dinner, im-
mense legions were still going by, and on Mr.
Audubon's arrival before sunset at Louisville,
distant from Hardentburgh fifty-three miles,
the pigeons were still passing in undiminished
numbers, and continued to do so for three
days in succession. Mr. Audubon makes
the following curious estimate of the numher
of pigeons contained in oj^eoH/^ of these mighty
flocks. Taking a column of one mile in
breadth, which he thinks is far below the av-
erage size, and supposing it to pass over with-
out interruption for three hours, at the rate of
one mile in a minute, it will give us a paral-
lelogram of one hundred and eighty miles by
one, covering one hundred and eighty square
miles. Allowing two pigeons to the square
yard, we have one billion, one hundred and
fifteen millions, one hundred and thirty-six
thousand pigeons in one flock. As each pig-
con daily consumes fully half a pint of food,
the quantity necessary for supplying this vast
multitude must be eight millions, seven hun-
dred and twelve thousand bushels a day.
Nor is the account of their roosting places
less curious. One of them on the banks of
the Green river in Kentucky was repeatedly
visited by Mr. Auduhon. It was in a portion
of the forest wliere the trees were of great al-
titude, and where there was little underwood,
and the average breadth was about three
miles. On arriving there about two hours
before sunset, few pigeons were to be seen.
A great number of persons, however, with
horses and wagons, guns and ammunition,
had already established themselves on the
borders. Two farmers had driven upwards
of three hundred hogs from their residence,
more than a bundled miles distant, to be fat-
tened on the pigeons which were to be slaugh-
tered. The sun had set, yet not a pigeon had
arrived. Everything, however, was ready,
and all eyes were gazing on the clear sky,
which appeared in glimpses amid the tall
ti'ces. Suddenly there burst forth a general
cry of " here they come!" The noise which
they made, though yet distant, is described as like a hard gale at
sea passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As the
birds arrived, they were knocked down by thousands by the pole-
men. As they continued to pour in, the fires wore lighted, and
a magnificent sight presented itself. The pigeons, arriving by
myriads, alighted everywhere, one above another, until solid,
masses, as large as hogsheads, were
formed on the branches all round.
Here and there the perches gave way
under the weight, with a crash, and
falling to the ground, destroyed hun-
dreds of the birds beneath, forcing
down the dense groups with which
every stick was loaded. The pigeons
kept constantly coming, and it was
past midnight before a decrease in
the number of those that arrived could
be perceived. The noise made was
so great, that it was distinctly heard
at three miles from the spot. Towards
the approach of day, the noise in some
measure subsided, and long before ob-
jects were distinguishable, the pigeons
began to move ojf in a direction quite
different from that in which they had
arrived the evening before, and at sun-
rise all that wci'c al>le to fly had dis-
appeared. The ahovo account of the
numerous floc-ks of these birds, and
the immense numbers of each, ai also
their appearam-e at their roosting' pla-
ces, may astonish many readers, and
appear so incrcdilde as to challenge
more credulity than they possess. Re-
ppccting this, we can only say we shall
not hesitate to believe a statement
wliich rcsls on the veracity of an orni-
thologist so distinguished as he is
whose testimony we give. Indeed
every year accounts are given from
our western country of immense flocks
of these birds, wliich appear soaring
through the air, so completely obscur-
ing the tun with their dense numbers,
lu almo-t to make it a midnight. In
the early spiing and asain in autumn
they pass in flock.^ defynig all compu-
tation, and have long been an object
of wonder even to those who have most
frequently witnessed the circumstance.
Wilson also says that the flocks usu-
ally observed in the Middle States
may be reckoned by thousands, but
are utterly insignificant in number in
<'omparisoo wilh iboirc of the Western
Stale.H.
OLD SOUTH CHURCH, NKWBURYPORT.
The annexed engriving represents the above edifice,
and derives its principal interest from the fact of its
containing the moimn.ent of Whltefield, a view of
which is given below It is an elegant structure of
Egyptian and Italian nii.rMe,— the gift of an eminent
merchant of Newburyport, who worshipped in tliis
church, an ardentndmirer of Whitcfield — and contains
the following inscription :
"Tnis Cbnotapr i8crert«d, with afTectlonafe veneration, to tho
Ilev. (Jeorgit Whit<;ltL'ld, born ut Olout;«Ht€r, KriKliind. Dececiber
If). 1714. K(lufiit«d lit Oxford UnivurHlty; ordained 173'V In a
niiniHtry of Thirty-four yuarrt. IIi^ croHned tim Atlantic Chirtten
tJiiicK, and Preached moru than oiKhteen thou^'and Hermonn. Ah
axolJltrof tho crori«. humble, <luvout, arJi;nt, IIh put on the
whole Armour of Uod ; )»referrlriH the Honour of Ohrlft to hlfl
own Intvrcrtt, Itejiorte, KoputJition, and Life. Ah a Chrietian ora-
tor, IiIm deep I'iety, disinttTeHlt-d zeal, and vivid [niiigination,
pave unexampled energy to hlw look, utterance, and action-
Bold, fervent, pungent, and popular in his eloquence, no other
unlnpf'r du vrpruhdtfKol rge a. sembl'ef or enforced
tl P mp t Truth of the flo p I by n ot v h bo p r ui^ive and
ful a d V ) n InH ence no powerful on the hearts of hla
he rtre H d .-d of Abth Scpte ber 30 1 0 suddenly ex
hang Dg h s L fo of unpar Ueltd Labours tor hlfl Eternul Itest
VIEW OF THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH, NE^VUURVPORT, MASS.
LION OF SOUTH AFRICA.
Diedorik MuUer, one of the most intrepid and successful lion-
hunters in South Africa, gives the following incident: He had
been out alone, hunting in the wilds, when he came suddenly
upon a lion, which, instead of giving way, seemed disposed, from
the angry attitude he assumed, to dispute with him the dominion
WIIITEFIELI) MONUMENT, IN THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH, NEWBURYPORT, MASS
of tho desert. Diederik instantly alighted,
and, confident of his unerring aim, levelled
his mighty rwr at the forehead of the lion,
who was eouchod in the act to spring, within
aljout fifteen paces of him ; but, at the mo-
ment the hunter fired, his horse, whose bridle
wa>i round his arm, started back, and caused
him to mifis. The Hon bounded forward, but
stopped witlun a few paces, confronting Die-
derik, who stood defenceless, his gun dis-
charged, and his horse running olf. The
man and the beast stood looking each other
in the fac-e, for a short space. At length the
lion moved backward, as if to go away. —
Diedcrik began to load his gun : the lion
looked over his shoulder, growled, and re-
turned. Diedcrik stood still. The Hon again
moved cautiously off; and the boor proceeded
to load and ram down his bullet. The lion
again looked back, and growled angrily; and
this occurred repeatedly, until the animal had
got off to some distance, when he took fairly
to his heels, and bounded away. This was
not the only nor tlie most dangerous adven-
ture of Diedcrik Muller with the monarch of
the wilderness. On another occasion, a lion
came so Buddenly upon him, that, before he
could take aim, the animal made his formid-
able spring, and aliglited so near the hunter,
that he liad just space to thrust the muzzle of
his gun into his open jaws, and shoot him
through the head. Diedcrik and his brother
Christian generally hunt in company; and
have killed upwards of thirty lions. They
have not achieved this, however, without many
hair-breadth escapes, and have more than
once saved each other's lives. On one of these
occasions, a lion sprang suddenly upon Diedc-
rik, from behind a stone, bore man and horse
to the ground, and was proceeding to finish
his career, when Christian galloped up and
shot the savii<j;e tlirough the heart. In this
encounter, Diedcrik was so roughly handled,
that he lost his hearing in one ear, the lion
having dug his talons deeply into it. — The
hero of the following story is a Hottentot of
the Agter Sneeuwbcrg. I have forgotten his
name, but be was alive two years ago, when
the story was related to me at Cradock, in
that neighborhood. The man was out hunt-
ing, and perceiving an antelope feeding among
some bushes, he approached in a creeping pos
ture, and had rested his gun over an ant hill
to take a steady aim, when, observing that
the creature's attention was suddenly and pe-
culiarly excited by some object near him, he
looked up and perceived with horror that an
enormous lion was at that instant creeping
forward, and ready to spring upon himself.
Before he could change his posture, and direct
liis aim upon this antagonist, she savage beast
bounded forward, seized him with his talons,
and crushed his left hand, as he endeavored
to guard him off with it, between his mon-
strous jaws. In this extremity, the Hottentot
had the presence of mind to turn the muzzle
of the gun, which he still held in his right
hand, into the lion's mouth, and then drawing
the trigger, shot him dead through the brain.
He lost his hand, but happily escaped without
further injury. — A farmer, of the name of Van der Merwe, had
outspanned his wagon in the wilderness, and laid himself down
to repose by the side of it. His two Hottentot servants, a man
and his wife, had disposed themselves on their ready couch of
sand, at the other side. At midnight, when all were fust asleep,
a lion came quietly up and carried off the poor woman in his
mouth. Pier master and her husband,
startled by her fearful shrieks, sprang
to their guns, but without avail. Fa-
vored by the darkness, the monster
had conveyed, in a tew minutes, hs
unfortunate victim far into the thicket,
beyond the possibility of rescue. A
Hottentot at Jackall's Fountain, on
the skirts of the Great Karroo, had a
narrow though ludicrous escape on a
similar occasion. He was sleeping a
few yards from his master, in the usual
mode of his nation, wrapped up in his
sheep skin carosse, with his face to the
ground. A Hon came softly up, and
seizing him by the thick folds of his
greasy mantle, began to trot away
with him, counting securely, no doubt,
on a savory and satisfactory meal.
But the Hottentot, on awaking, be-
ing quite unhurt, though sufficiently
astonished, contrived somehow to
wriggle himself out of his wrapper,
and scrambled off, while the disap-
pointed lion walked simply away with
tho empty integument. The last two
anecdotes illustrates a peculiarity
ascribed to the lion, viz., a supposed
propensity to prey on black men in
preference to white, when he has the
choice ; or, as the Cape boors explain
it, has di-^cretion in refraining from
the flesh of " Christp.n mmsch," when
" llotlcntot vof/c" are to be come at.
The fact of this preference, so strong-
ly alleged, need not be disputed; but
it may be accounted for on somewhat
difi'erent grounds from those u-iually
assigned. The lion, like most other
boasts of prey, is directed to his game
bv the scent as well as by tlie eye.
Tho peculiar odor of the Horten ot,
especially in his wild and barhnrous
state, is exceedingly sti'ong and pun-
gent, and presents to the lion, who i-i
prowling after nightfall in search of
his supper, an etliuvia fully as attrac-
tive as the scent of a savory liecf-
steak can be to a weary and hungry
traveller. — -I inericau Ma'/azine.
F. GLEASOK
( CORNER BROMPIEIJ)
AND TREMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1852.
»2 PER VOLUaiE.
10 ctb. single.
Vol. III. No. 22.— Whole No. 74.
NEW YORK BAY ANB HARBOR.
The engraving below represents New York
Bay and Harbor, as seen from the Telegraph
and Narrows, Staten Island. The view present-
ed by our artist, from this high promontory, is
truly beautiful ; here opens from the sea, or low-
er bay, a fairy scene unsurpassed in the world,
not excepting the Bay of Naples. All tourists
agree on this point. The Bay is eight miles
long, and from one and a half to five miles broad.
It3 smooth surface is dotted over by numerous
snow-white sails; the hurrying to and fro of
hundreds of steamboats, packet ships, and small-
er craft, continually passing in and out ; while
here and there is a gigantic ocean steamer from
old Europe. The whole forms a picture of bril-
liancy, which defies the painter's pencil or the
poet's pen. But let us describe the objects.
The Telegraph is used to answer to the Merchant's
Exchange, Wall Street, New York, in refer-
ence to the arrival of vessels, and the arms are
kept continually moving. Near at hand is a
rough old fort, and very extensive, called Fort
Tompkins, commanding or covering the new
and beautiful fort not yet completed, but rapidly
approaching it. A large amount of money has
been appropriated on this Fort Diamond, which,
together with the one before named, and Fort
Hamilton, and Fort Lafayette, on the opposite
shore, commands the entrance. The eye follows
the entire length of Staten Island to quarantine.
There are two or three landings, that are indicated
by a steamboat in the view ; in the extreme dis-
tance is the Jersey shore, the Palisades, and the
noble city of New York, in as bold relief as if
only one mile distant. On the other side is Long
Island. The ride along the shore to Fort Hamil-
ton and Fort Diamond is beautiful. One or two
steamboats leave New York every hour for Staten
Island, and are usually crowded ; and on gala
days from fifteen to twenty thousand persons
leave the . dust and heat of the city to take a
breath of sea air. An omnibus, besides car-
riages, conveys the people as far as the Telegraph,
and the ride from the ferry is delightfully plea-
sant. On one side are numerous country seats and
cottages, built in form like castles and palaces;
on the other, is the bay, laying like a perfect mir-
ror, with New York behind and the sea in front.
Nothing will compare with New York Bay. No
stranger should fail to see this view. In the
striking beauty of its maritime appearance. New
York Bay has no equal on this continent, and,
perhaps, but one superior abroad. A few weeks
since we had a long and interesting view of the
scene from Brooklyn Heights, on the Long Isl-
and shore, and were amazed at the busy scene
of commercial prosperity that presented itself to
our eyes from this point. Innumerable ferry-
boats, steamers, packet ships, merchantmen.
coasters, ocean steamships, men-of-war, revenue
cutters, sail boats; row boats, custom-house
barges, altogether actually swarmed upon the
spacious waters off the Battery, stretching away
north and east up- the Hudson and East River,
toward Long Island Sound. Then from Castle
Garden, south-west, lies the main channel for
seaward-bound vessels through the Narrows, >Dn
to the broad bosom of the restless ocean. It is
a most exciting and interesting scene, and tells
of prosperity and commercial success more truly
and indisputably than columns of statistical
figures could possibly do. Our readers wiU prize
the picture below for its artistic excellence and
truthfulness. It is by our artist Mr. Wade, of
New York, whose taste in mariiime matters is of
the most refined character. We shall often en-
rich our columns by sketches from his pencil,
and continue to give all such scenes of interest,
from Maine to California.
VIEW OF THE NEW YORK BAY AND HARBOR, FROM THE TELEGRAPH STATION.
338
G REASON'S ]>I(;T()?JAL DRAAVIXG llOOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massaclmsetts.
[WKITTKN EXPKESSLT FOR GLEASOn'S PIOTOlilAr..]
THE SIGM OF THE MYSTIC
A Talc of ilw Camp nM Cwurt ©f Bonaparte.
BY B. PERLEY POOEE.
[ C 0 N T I N U !■: I) . ]
CHAPTER XII.
STRANQii AND SAD TABLEAUX.
Winter enveloped Paris witli his snowy man-
tle, and Osmanli, deprived of liis kind Iiostes?,
now found that nowhere is solitude so pcifuct as
in the heart of a large city. In the wildest forest,
or the smallest hamlet, where the din of traffic
is not heard, and where the wheels of pleasure
leave no trace, humanity and sympathy, under
some of their varied aspects, will ever greet the
stranger. Some one will ba led —by cuviosiij' —
or by goodness of heart — or by charity — to visit
the stranger, and to cheer his solitary hours.
But in a large city, a stranger is emphatically
alone. The busy tide of restless humanity ebbs
and flows all around, but no one thinks of, or
caves for the friendless.
Osmanli, anxious to show his devotion to
General Bonaparte, and at the same time seek-
ing society, soon passed most of his time at the
house of Madame de Valmont. But in endeav-
oring to watch her movement;?, he soon forgot
to keep guard over his own heart. Then Eros
came, hand in hand wiih Psyche, to stir the
young man's blood, and sweep over his trem-
bling lieart-strings with convulsive movements.
Tighter and tighter the wily enchantress drew
the meshes of her cunning entanglements, and
soon every moi'uing found her victim in her
boudoir. A fit retreat it was for one so fasci-
nating and so bewitching. The sunlight, pass-
ing through stained glass windows, partially ob-
scured by heavy crimson damask curtains, gave
everything a soft, flesh-like tone of luxurious
life. Rich carpets, noon which the heaviest tread
fell unheard, covered the floor — mythological
paintings, in their nude voluptuousness, decked
the walls — flowers perfumed the air, — whilst the
whole scene was reflected in mirrors of great
size and purity, set in heavily gilded frames.
And here, where everything blended harmoni-
ously, Madame de Valmont's fascinating beauty
was more apparent. Arrayed in her morning-
dress, which disclosed the luxurious fulness of
her form, she only lacked the pure blush of mod-
esty to have personated Venus herself, in the
regal pride of matchless charms. Her large ex-
pressive eyes would appear to float, like Mun?et
clouds*, in purity, — her rosy nostrils would dilate
with heart passion, — and her fall ruby lips,
would pout archly fortii from her pca^jliy, dim-
pled cheeks, the upper one shaded by a piquant
tracery of raven down. Often, as she sat chat-
ting with Osmanli, her maid would comb out the
thick, clustering curls, until they enveloped her
bust like a silken veil, and then arrange it in
Kuch form as to add beauty to th"e contour of her
classical face. And never was a snare more cun-
ningly laid, than the half-toilet which was thus
exhibited.
Step by step, Osmanli's pure heart melted be-
fore the bright glances of his enchantress ; nor
was it long before he became, a convert to the
Epicurean doctrines which lull the Parisians to
repose, as they float down the current of pleasure.
"War, love, vnne. music, pleasure and opium,
are looked upon as so many drugs, each produc-
ing a different effect, but each as fit for indul-
gence as the others.
One evening, Madame de Valmont called ia
her carriage for Osmanli, and took him to a
masked ball, at the Grand Opera House. The
spacious pit was floored over on a level with the
stage, and upon the hirge area revelled thou-
sands of maskers, intoxicated wirh wine and joy.
Seen from one of the boxes, which Madame de
Valmont had engaged, the floor appeared like a
vast cauldron, where wild folly was fomenting,
throwing out from its borders a foaming noise,
and sending up to the overhanging chandeliers
a mist of warm breath. The imperious notes of
the orchestra pealed above the general clamor,
the sharp tones of post horns coming in clearly
from lime to time, as one sees the fla&^i of can-
non through the thickest of the smoke. Thou-
sands of lights seemed to flicker in joyous time
to the music, casting a lurid glance upon the
multitude of gay costumes below, as ever chang-
ing as the hues of the kaleidoscope. Each eye
had a wink — each mouth a cr}' — each arm a
mocking gesture — each form a provoking move-
ment. The floor trembled under the pattering
of indefatigable feet, and a more compact, parti-
colored mosaic of humanity cannot be imagined.
Hark 1 The leader of the orchestra gives the
signal for the commencement of the gallop. A
sort of heaving takes place in the thick waves at
the first notes of thepost-hoi"n,acurrentis gradual-
ly established, and soon the triumphant gallopade
sweeps around the area. In the centre, those
maskers who did not join in the diabolical round
formed stagnant groups — human islands which
remained stationary. The whirlpool around them
hastened and leaped onwards. A charge of cav-
alry sweeping down upon a square of Infantry
could not make a louder or heavier noise, and
Osmanli was reminded of the impetuous hordes
ofMouradBey. Circling like a maelstrom, it
was a symbol of tlie evolutions of humanity,
which sweep individuals into in'csistible masses.
As the night wore on, Osmanli and his com-
panion left their box, and joined thepromenaders
in the saloon of the theatre. Here, everything
was decorous and mysterious. No gentlemen
were admitted in disguise, but evei'y lady was
masked, and so concealed by a black domino
hood, as to render recognition next to impossi-
ble. Madame de Valmont, who was in her ele-
ment, spoke to several gentlemen, and intrigued
one or two by her knowledge of their love affairs.
All at once Osmanli started, for the well known
tones of Judith Eezenzac fell upon his ear. Could
it be possible 1 He eagerly surveyed the masked
forms around him, but could not distinguish
any one that could be her, and soon the thought
was chased from his mind by the bewitching
folly of his wild-hearted companion.
Yet it was Judith's voice that he had heard.
She had arrived at Paris, with a broken
and a sad lieart, but Josephine, receiving her
into her house, endeavored to dispel her grief.
When she had subdued the poor girl's outward
sorrow', she began to question her as to the state
of her heart, and only that morning Judith had
confessed that Osmanli, above all other men,
had won her love. "Poor girl," thought Jose-
phine, "another hope is to be disappointed ;"
but she refrained from telling her that the young
Mameluke had been entranced by a designing
woman. And she had persuaded her to attend
the ball, in the hope that it would divert her
mind. They had not entered, however, ere they
saw the enraptured Osmanli, and an exclama-
tion involuntarily escaped from Judith's lips.
" Hush !'* whispered Josephine. " I would
not for worlds be recognized, especially by the
demon who accompanies your faithless lover.
But now you sec why by has not called upon
me, and why he has forgotten his duty; let us
go to the police-box; You shall, ere morning,
administerapointcd rebuke to your feeble-hearted
swain. Aficr all, poor fellow, perhaps he can-
not help it."
Never was there a more truthful supposition.
Bewildered by the blaze, deafened by the noise,
and entranced by the music, Osmanli lost all
self-command. And when the adroit plotter
against his iiappiness left the gay scene with
Iiim, to partake of supper at a ncigliboring res-
taurant, he was completely in her power. The
house was crowded, but the keeper had one pri-
vate room disengaged, and they at once took
possession of it. Jt was not large, and at one
end were folding-dooi's, which appai'cntly com-
municated with an adjoining room. A f^umptu-
ous supper was soon .served, and, when all was
ready, and the domestic had left the room, Me-
dame de A-^almont said :
" Now, dear Osmanli, I will take off' this mask
about. which you have grumbled so much."
Never did the sun, after a total eclipse, beam
forth with such brilliancy as did that matcldcss
creature, when she threw off her disguise.
Dressed in tlie scanty ball toilet of the times,
which displa^'cd the classical development of her
form, and feft her fine arms bare to the slioulder,
she appeared to Osmanli like some visitor from
fairy land. A collar of blazing diamonds decked
her beautifully moulded bust, and never did a
spai'kling river wind over a fairer bed. Nor
could the enraptured young man gaze upon her
pure complexion and her classical features, with-
out thinking that he saw that loveliness which
Phidias sculptured — the Parian mai'ble marvel-
lously animated by the fire of life.
Filling glasses to the brim with pearl-mantled
champagne, she pledged Osmanli again and
again, merely sipping the wine herself, while he
drained liis every time. Then, with flashing
eyes, she continued her remarks in such a tone,
and with such allusions as inflamed his imagina-
tion. Ecstasy surcharged every part of his soul's
faculties, and rapturous joy sent his heart's blood,
by forced marches, joyfully parading through his
frame. At last conversation ceased. Osmanli's
heart heaved convulsively, and his noble nature
at last prompted him to avow his deceit. Throw-
ing himself at her feet, he confessed his love, his
worship, his adoration — but regretted his un-
worthiness.
"Unworthy'? No! dearest Osmanli!" was
the reply, in syren tones, and tlie crafty woman
leaned her downcast head upon one of her ex-
quisitely tapering arms, the glossy fringe of her
long drooping eye-lashes falling upon her checks,
and contrasting deeply with the light blushes
that rose to meet them.
" O, forgive mc !" said Osmanli, in heart-
touching tones. " Forgive me. But I am but
a base, degraded spy, who has agreed to betray
you."
"And to whom?" asked Madame de Val-
mont, drawing herself up with queenlike dignity.
" To Pouche — to Madame Bonaparte. Pity — "
" Pity you, you — but her, never. Traitress
that she is, will she ever thwart my projects ■?"
"Yes, madame!" said a voice at their sides.
It was the unmistakeable voice of Josephine!
Both sprang to their feet, and saw, with aston-
ishment, that the folding-doors were thrown
open. And there, encircled by police ofiicers,
stood Madame Bonaparte, her eyes flashing fire !
" Yes, madame ! 1 can thwart your diabolical
plans, and, with God's help, I will. This is no
place for a scene, but I will tell you that, over-
hearing a part of your' conversation at the opera,
whither I went to distract a young friend, I de-
termined to sound the depths of jonr infamy.
Peeling certain that you would sup, I had in-
structions sent to all the neighboring restaurants,
and let you liave gone where you would, I
should have been a listener. Henceforth, dare
not show your guilty coxmtenance where I am,
and remember that the police will watch your
every movement. As for you. Captain Osmanli,
a glance at my eomj>anion, who, like myself has
been a witness of your infatuated treachery, will
perhaps recall you to your senses. And as Os-
manli raised his eyes, Madame Bonaparte lifted
the hood of her trembling friend. It was Judith
Pezenzac, and 0, what an reproachful look of
sorrow beamed from her expressive eyes.
Another moment, and the folding doors had
been closed, leaving the guilty couple alone
again.
"Maledictions upon her head," muttered Ma-
dame de Valmont, her features worked into a
fui'ious expression of hatred. I will yet be re-
venged. Come, Osmanli, call for the bill, and
let us leave this den of spies."
Mechanically and without a word, Osmanli
settled with the host, called a carriage, and
handed in his companion. Then, closing the
door of the vehiele, and unmindful of the calls
of the nov/ frightened woman, he walked away
at a rapid pace.
On — on he ;:trode ! Now jostling those whom
he met^now stepping aside into the gutter, in
order to pass those who occupied tlic narrow
sidewalks, and were too tardy in tlieir move-
ments for his excited frame. Penetrating into
the midst of the mighty labyrinths of stone and
mortar, he did not pause until he reached the
old bridge across the Seine, near the cathedral
of KoLre Dame.
It was a tempestuous night, the rain falling in
torrents, and the winds howling through the
arches of the bridge with a voice of lamentation,
to wnifli the gurgling water responded as it
rushed along. Stopping when over the centre
arch, Osmanli leaned over the parapet, and gazed
into the foaming waters i)eiieath. Joy, fierce
and thrilling, now animated his heart, for peace
lay in the eddying wliirlpool into which he gazed,
as it whirled around its dimpled centre, like the
hawk circling around its distant prey, contract-
ing hi verge until it bore down to death in the
depths beloiv. All around was like his own
heart, dark, tumultuous, and tempest-tossed.
No ray of light cheered the darkness of his soul
— no bright and lovely moon struggled with the
clouds of his destiny— nothing presented itself
that was cheering or consoling. Madly he in-
voked the winds, and asked to be swept into the
dark bo.=:om of the waters. Then, as if in mock-
cry of his own despair, he burst into a hysterical
laugh, which seemed answered from below. His
reason tottered — strange and horrible faces mock-
ed him — ^unknown voices muttered, and hissed,
and groaned in his ear — and at last, a maniac
rage taking possession of his soul, he sprang into
the water. There was a plash, a cry, and then
the waves whirled around with glassy surface,
while the winds howled a requiem for the suicide.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESCUE — THE CATACOMBS.
Madasie de Valmoxt, when Osmanli, left
her, ordered her coachman to drive to Notre
Dame. Enraged by her exposure, her unbridled
passions raged and boiled within her undisci-
plined heart. Now, she heaped the bitterest de-
nunciations upon Josephine Bonaparte— now,
she avowed for Osmanli a passionate love which
triumphed over delicacy — nov, she cursed Mar-
gry as the destroyer of her happiness — and, in
the intervals, a thousand wild plans for the fu-
ture floated through her infuriated brain. Truly
has the poet said: "Plell has no fury like a
woman scorned."
At last the carriage stopped, and before the
coachman could lower the steps, the maddened
woman had lefiped to the pavement. Passing
through scenes described in a preceding chapter,
she reached the catacombs, but found an un-
looked-for sight. On a mattress placed upon
the council-table, lay the body of a man, wet and
dripping, over whom Count Vergennes was
bending in cartful attention. It was — could it
be "? yes ! it was Osmanli. There lay the object
of her wily machinations, in that death-like,
heavy helplessness which characterizes those
taken from a watery grave.
'*Th?-T!k God !" said the count, "he breathes
at last," and soon the livid blue lips assumed a
roseate hue, while a faint color stole over the
pallid features. He opened his eyes, hut they
encountered Madsme de Valmont, and he closed
them with a groan of angui.--li.
"How," asked Madame dc Valmont, "did
this happen ';"
" But a few moments since," replied the count,
"I was coming hither in a boat, which 1 use to
escape detection, and enter by what is apparently
a drain, opening into the river near the cathe-
dral. Just as I approached the city bridge, I
heard a heavy splash in the water, and my boat-
men lay on their muffled oars. We drified
along, and, to my .great joy, I saw a dark object
rise to the suiface of the water, so near that I
clutched it. One of my boatmen sprang to aid
me, and we Eoon had this poor fellow in our
boat. Of course, I dared noi: land, and so I had
him brought here, where 1 have Tjecn endeavor-
ing to resuscitate him. Wiio can It be?"
" One of Foiichc's spies," was the reply.
" Ntiy, nay," answered the count, " I have
already fcund tokens on his person that he be-
longs to an alliance whicli numbers no spies
among Its memherB. But (lo you know him ?"
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
ooi
" Kno^v him ? Why this is Captain Osmanli,
the renegade, who confessed to me, not an hour
since, that he was employed to watch my con-
duct."
At this moment Osmanli opened his eyes, and
looked ai"ound with a disturbed, dreamy glance.
All at once his eye brightened. The count, who
stood behind Madame de Valmont, made a sign
which restored life and animation to the death-
stricken heart. The mystic signal was returned,
and Osmanli, raising his head, again looked
around.
" Where am I V* he inquired. " A tomb —
human bones — weapons — and, and, 0 enchant-
ress, have you followed me into another world,
to again ruin my happiness V
" Be tranquil, my brother," said the count, in
a gentle tone. Then he rang a bell, and a ser-
vant appearing, he ordered him to show the
boatmen the way to his bed-room, for a portion
of the catacombs had been fitced up with every
comfort. Hither Osmanli was to be carried,
then divested of his wet clothes and put to bed.
" Arc you mad ?" asked Madame de Valmont,
her tieautiful features convulsed with rage.
" Mad ! Do you call it madness, madame, to
rescue a human being from destruction — espe-
cially when that individual is bound to you by a
mystic tie?"
" Well, sir count, if you harbor spies, and en-
courage our enemies, it will be a long time ere
the Bourbons return to France."
" But what can I do, under the circumstances ?"
" What can you do V shrieked the infuriated
woman, almost delirious with rage. " Why, let
me have the craven, and I will send his head to
Josephine Bonaparte as a keepsake, while the
tishes shall feast on his treacherous heart.
Wretch that he — "
" Silence, madame," interrupted the count.
" Such language cannot be tolerated here, nei-
ther can your private ^vTongs interfere with the
cause — a cause which recognizes Christianity."
" Peidition take your cause, and your besotted
Bourbons. I only used you as a tool to gratify
my revenge against Josephine Bonaparte, but
now I leave you to your new associate. Ha!
ha! The elegant Count de Vergennes and a
renegade spy ! Adieu. I leave you to play the
host." And the desperate woman left the vault.
" She will not dare betray me," murmured the
count, and he then repaired to the couch where
he had ordered Osmanli to be laid. He had re-
covered from the effects of his immersion, but
the count restrained his thanks.
" You now need repose," he said, " and we
will converse hereafter. That I am your friend,
you know; nor is it necessary to tell you that
you are in a portion of the catacombs of I'aris.
To-morrow I will tell you more. Adieu, and
pleasant dreams to you."
Would that Osmanli could have slept, but it
was out of the question. Hour after hour he
tumbled about upon his couch, with the sound of
the rushing waters ringing in his ears, and no
air to breath. Choking, he seemed to descend,
then to rise again, gasping for breath. And
Madame de Valmont, with a smile on her lips,
would then again precipitate him into the watery
abyss. At last he closed his aching eyes, and
sank, exhausted, into troubled repose.
CHAPTER XIV.
NAl'DLEON IN FRANCE.
News from Erance reached Egypt, informing
Bonaparte that the moment was at hand when,
by casting granite-like edicts upon the moving
sands of revolutionary misrule, he could lay the
foundations for an imperial throne. Making
hasty and secret preparations, lest his design
should be suspected by the English fleet then
hovering off the coast, the victorious general re-
cmbiirked for France. Fortune favored her war-
like son, and after a speedy passage, through
tempests and hostile fleets, he arrived at Frejus,
a small town on the coast, not very far from
Marseilles. Quarantine regulations were set at
defiance, and the decks of his ships were soon
crowded with civil and military functionaries,
who shouted " Hunafor Bonaparte and victory !
we prefer the plague to Austrian invaders."
Even the wounded soldiers left their hospital, to
welcome him as he landed, and the entire popu-
lation greeted him as the only man wlio could
restore stability and concord to a distracted na-
tion. The church bells rang forth joyous peals,
the cannon roared, bands of martiakmusic were
harmonious in their glad strains of welcome.
But Bonnparte was indifferent to all these mani-
festations of devotion. Poison had adroitly been
mingled in his cup of happiness, and the sorrow
he felt more than counterbalanced his ambitious
pride.
Madame de Valmont, influenced by the curi-
osity of her sex, was so eager to hear with what
success Colonel Lowe was pursuing his diaboli-
cal plans, that when she feared to remain longer
in Paris, she repaired to Marseilles. A few
mornings after her arrival, a courier came from
Frejus, and reported Bonaparte's arrival from
Egypt. Starting at once, she arrived just as the
conqueror landed, and managed to have a note
handed to him, in which she accused Josephine
of having transferred her affections to his brother
Joseph. The note concluded tlins :
" As proof of what I have asserted, you will
find, on arriving at Paris, that the guilty couple
have fled ; upon what pretence I cannot say.
But I know that your guilty wife will not dare
to face you, and that she boasts that it is only
the first burst of your stormy passions which she
dreads.
A Devoted Friend."
Need it be wondered at, that the jealous hus-
band was in haste to arrive at his home, although
he endeavored to persuade himself that it was a
miserable invention. The official ovation with
which he was received on landing seemed to oc-
cupy an age, and it was with difficulty that the
authorities of Lyons detained him one day.
"Faster! faster!" was his oft-repeated exclama-
tion, and the smoking wheels of his carriage
whirled over hill and dale with greater speed
than those of many a modern locomotive. In
vain did the rural population line the road, with
shouts of gladness, and ofierings of gratitude.
A rapid glance was all they could obtain — a
passing bow was all the return for their display.
Yet they murmured not, but hailed him as the
rising sun, which was to dispel the long night of
national gloom.'
Onward ! onward ! The olive groves of Pro-
vence— the vine-clad fields of Burgundy — the
forests of Fontainbleau — all were passed as one
sees a quick moving panorama. And at last,
seated in its natural amphitheatre, Paris appears
in sight. It was a bright morning, and the sun,
which flashed from the graceful domes of the
Pantheon and the Invalides Chapel, cast dark
shadows behind the massive towers of Notre
Dame and of Saint Jacques. There, in the cen-
tre of the civilized world, had the conqueror
hoped to planthis future seat of empire. There,
on a locality rich and rare in historical associa-
tions, had he hoped to found a dynasty that
would overthrow the present, and overshadow
the past. A dynasty that would gleam like the
salient domes before him upon the pages of his-
tory, and would cast the reigns of Charlemagne,
and Clovis — the Bourbons and the Valois — far
into the shade. But now, no such ambitious
projects occupied his thoughts. All the sway
he coveted was over one heart. Was his Jose-
phine true to him, or had she fled to hide her
blushes of shame ?
He reached the gateway of his residence, and,
ere the porter could recover his surprise at see-
ing his master thus hurriedly return, Bonaparte
was in the house. All was quiet. Hastening
up stairs into his wife's room, he found it empty,
and, worse than that, bearing marks of having
been recently Itft. Drawers had been emptied,
the travelling trunks were gone, and the unhappy
husband felt his worst fears confirmed. The
bell summoned a domestic.
" Where is Madame Bonaparte V
" She left early this morning, general, in great
haste."
" Alone V
" No, general, your brother Joseph accompa-
nied her."
A groan forced itself from the heart of the
wretched husband, and he motioned the aston-
ished servant to withdraw. Substantial happi-
ness was now fully exchanged for sickly doubt,
the soft light of trusting afiection was obscured,
and jealousy held possession of his every sense.
Ordinarily, his powerful will controlled any dis-
play of jealousy ; but now, his whole frame was
convulsed ; the " green eyed monster," like a
barbaric horde, overwhelming all that was ex-
cellent in his character. Any other blow he
could have borne up against — his plnlosophy
would have borne him up under the weight of
any other affliction. But his stricken heart
writhed in anguish, beneath the grinding thought
that she in whom he had centered every joy, had
turned from him to a preferred rival. And that
rival, too, was a brother — one against whom he
could not draw a sword. Beaded drops of agony
studded his forehead, and ineffable anguish was
depicted on every feature.
There was a gentle tap at the door, but Bona-
parte heard it not. Twice was it repeated, and
then the door opened, but the sorrow-stricken
man saw not who entered. And it was not until
he felt a gentle pressure upon his arm that he
looked up. Seeing a female form, he at first
thought it was Josephine, and he clenched his
teetli with rage. But he gave a look, and saw
Judith Fezenzac, more beautiful than ever, al-
though her cheeks wore that delicate pallid hue
which is so closely imitated by Powers in his
matchless statue of tlie Greek Slave. Clasping
hi^ hand in hers, she said, in a confiding, gentle
tone :
"They told me that you had arrived alone,
and thinking you would feel disappointed at not
receiving a welcome from your loving wife, I
ventured to intrude."
"But Josephine V
" Has gone to meet you."
"To meet rae? Why, my nightingale, that
is impossible, for I have heralded my approach
myself."
"No indeed, general. About daybreak this
morning a lady rang at the gate, and said that
an officer had anived, bringing news that you
had arrived at Frejus. He also had a written
request from you that Madame and your brother
Joseph would leave at once for Orleans, to meet
you. By an accident his carriage was over-
turned, and he had not only lost the missive,
but hrvd received such an injury that he could
only re-v:h her house, and she had brought the
letter — "
"And did Josephine credit this falsehood?"
" Creditit, general ?" continued Judith; "why
she wo- overjoyed to think that you had thus
given her en opportunity to meet you, and enjoy
first g::::'ang5 away from the public gaze."
The door opened, and a lady entered.
" Dearmother !" exclaimed Bonaparte; "how
kind of you to come thus to greet me."
" Welcome to France, my son," said Madame
Bonaparte, and as she took off her bonnet, Ju-
dith could scarcely credit that she was the mother
of thirteen children. Her majestic figure re-
tained its early grace, her passionate dark eyes
were undimmed, and age had left few traces
upon her symmetrical countenance. " Welcome
to France, my son ! I have hastened to meet
you, because some one left at my house this
morning an anonymous note, informing me that
Josephine had behaved improperly, and had gone
off to escape your anger, so I was advised to
come and recommend you to discard her."
"And you do, mother V
" Not I, Napoleon, not I ! Light hearted she
maybe — volatile she may be — fondof gayetyshe
may be — but she is as true to you, my son, as
the n oon to the sun."
Sor.K* one knocked — General Bonaparte open-
ed the '^(^nr, and was delighted to see Fouche.
After cordial greetings, the cunning police-agent
asked, with a smile :
" Is it customary in Egypt, general, to have a
lady precede you on a jouraey V
" Su' !" said Bonaparte, in a frigid tone, for
he thought it was an allusion to his wife.
" O nothing, general. But the reports from
the south show that a lady of fashion took post-
horses at Frejus an hour after you landed, and,
fast as you afterwards travelled, she reached the
capital nearly a day in advance of you."
"And who was this female Mercury 1"
" Madame de Valmont. I don't know, but I
fear she is getting herself into difiiculty, and
will yet see the inside of a prison."
"Have you your letter, mother?" inquired
Bonaparte.
" Here it is, my son," replied Madame Bona-
parte, and she soon lianded him the epistle.
The general took fi-om his pocket that which he
had received at Frejus, and handed both to
Fouche.
" What do you think of these notes V
" Tiiiuk, general ? Why the first glance tells
me that they were written by the same person,
on paper from the same ream, and, see, each is
sealed with a signet ring bearing the letter V.
Now" (and he took a third letter from his coat-
pocket), "here is a letter written in the same hand,
on the same kind of paper, and stamped with the
same seal. But this is signed, plainly enough,
'de Valmont.' "
" Therefore, my old flame wrote all."
"Exactly, general, and preceded you here."
Stepping across the room, Bonaparte pulled
the bcll-ropc with such force that it broke. AVhen
the servant responded to the summons, he sent
him for the porter. That functionary was not
long in arriving, and was questioned thus :
" Was it you who received a message early
this morning V
" It was, general," and the domestic quailed
before the iron glance of his interrogator.
" And who was the lady V
The porter turned crimson, then pale, and his
lips moved without sound.
" One question, general, if you please," said
Fouche. "Tell me, fellow, how much did she
give you V
" A golden twenty flve franc piece, sir."
" 0, ho !" exclaimed the wily police agent.
" That was liberal in Madame de Valmont, was
it not?"
The poor fellow sank on his knees. "Forgive
me, general," he cried ; " I knew not that I did
harm. The lady was evidently vexed that I
recognized her, and she begged me to keep si-
lent, for she did not wish it known that the oflicer
who brought the message was at her house. I
had no idea — "
"Never mind, my good fellow," interrupted
Bonaparte, "your ideas are of little value. This
once I forgive you, but never have any secrets
again, even if you do receive gold."
" Plague take the gold," murmured the man,
as he bowed himself out, " I will see it changed
into good wine without delay."
"By the way," inquired Bonaparte, "where
is Captain Osmanli?"
Judith turned pale, but Fouche responded,
and informed the general how the young man
had been led from his duty. During his recital,
Bonaparte rose from his chair, took snuff vehe-
mently, and when the story was concluded
with the abrupt disappearance from the ball, he
exclaimed :
" Poor fellow, poor fellow. Hark ye. Monsieur
Fouche, your police spying is all very fine, but I
never wish you to enlist my ofiicers in it. They
have other duties."
" You shall be obeyed, general," answered
the obsequious agent, whose sagacity foresaw
Bonaparte's coming power. " Nevertheless, I
thought that this Captain Osmanli came here on
rather an inquisitive mission."
"Brigand!" said Napoleon, with a smile,
" nothing escapes you. But is not that a carriage
I hear entering the court-yard ?"
A moment more, and Madame Bonaparte,
who had just left the room, re entered, leading
Josephine. Never did the faultless symmetry of
form, and the classic features of the bewitching
Creole appear to greater advantage. The jour-
ney had animated the languor of her complexion
with a roseate hue, and one glance from her
flashing eyes melted away her husband's doubts,
as the last fall of snow disappears before the
warm sunbeams of spring.
" Welcome home !"
"Thanks, thanks, my dear wife. You have
been duped, and I have been miserable ; but how
can I doubt you, when I see all the truth of your
innocent heart reflected from your loved counte-
nance." And opening his arms, the conqueror
pressed Josephine to his heart, and wept.
Every one else left tlie room, for the scene was
too sacred for mortal eyes to witness. From
that moment, his wife became his confidant. He
recognized her as a guardian angel, and submit-
ted to her guidance.
[to be continued.]
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE EMIGRANT'S TOME.
BT WILLIAU T. Hn^EE.
The hills had scarce concealed the sun,
One lovely night in June ;
The twinkling stars shone one by one,
Attendant on the moon ;
Until the broad and blue expanse
Was filled with starry gems,
Transcending far the radiant pomp
Of regal diadems.
When strolling through a sylvan scene,
Beside a stricken pine
I saw a rude-made mound of earth,
Twas called the '■ Wanderer's shrine ;"
No huge mausoleum upreared,
The lyre sang not his fame ;
He died unhonored and unsung,
He died without a name.
Five of the sweetest words in the English lan-
guage begin with H, which is only a breath : Heart,
Hope, Home, Happiness and Heaven. Heart is
a hope-place, and home is a heart-place, and that
man sadly mistaketh, who would exchange the
happiness of home for anything less than heaven.
340
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COIMPANION.
THE NEW FIRE DEPARTMENT OF BERLIN, IN PRUSSIA.
THE NEW FinE BEPARTMENT IN BERWN.
On this and the next pjijrc wp yive ti line series of views of tlic
cclchratecl Fire Dcpiirtment of Berlin. The Dcpjirtmcnt eonsists
of a Iitt?e more than GilO men, unrter the mufn orj;»nizcr and hciicJ
of the estiihlishment, M. Seabell, who U drrcetor of bnildhifr-s, etc.
The military ehanieter of the nation and its inslitutions pervailes
the Fire Department even, and tliat to a remarkable extent, as
win be seen by this (Tcsoription. Under M. Seabcll arc, five firc-
tlircctors,. tiity upper-firemen, 220 Jiiemtn, consisting chiefly ol
FIRE DIRECTOK.
carpenters, builders, bricklayei's, blacksmiths, bellsmiths, slaters
or tilers, and other tradesmen of a similar kind, wiiose qualifica-
tions, arising from the nature of their business, render them pecu-
liarly suitable for the service — and 360 engine men. To this corps
it is provided, that there may be added 360 men belonging to the
department of the street-cleaning, which is subject to the same
head officer, although separately officered, regulated and man-
aged in detail. The firemen and the engine-men (so called) are
two distinct bodies, but both subject to a particular drill and dis-
cipline. The former are chosen from amongst mechanics having
MASTER ADVISER.
a certain fitness, from previous knowledge and habits, for the
business, the latter are only required to possess health and
strength. The corps is provided with an uniform, and arms or
weapons, the latter varying according to the different purposes for
which they are designed. The helmets are very strong, yet light
and well calculated to protect from the injuries to which the wear-
ers are exposed from falling bodies, as stones, timber, etc., which
may be considered the worst enemies of the firemen. It will be
seen, also, that the neck and shoulders are preserved from fire,
burning coals, hot ashes, and other contingencies I>y a leather
cape. The axes are about the usual size of a carpenter's axe,
but to this is added a pick (in short a pick-axe) ; to the handling
and carrying this weapon belongs a regular drill exercise, as will
shortly be observed. The}' have also bill-hooks, which are very
useful and eflfective weapons. Attached to the leathern girdles
on each side there is a strong iron hook, by means of which the
firemen can expeditiously and securely fasten themselves to the
ladders, and leave their arms at liberty. As for the rest — the en-
gines, hose, buckets, ladders, etc. — not personal implements, they
belong to the establishment, and form, as it were, an artillery
corps, together with the so-called f.m/hw. men. The different corps
being under tlieir own oHiccrfl, and 8ubje<-t to peculiar training,
and drill organization, and regulationn, extending not only to
dress and deportment, but pergonal cleanliness. At the time of
actual operation, in the case of extinguiKhing fires, every opera-
tion is regulated by word of command with the alacrity and pre-
cision of regular Koldiers. To this end the head establishment of
the city is fitted up for all the exercises connected with the vari-
ous operations of the firemen, the command being communicated
FIRE INSPECTOR.
by notes of a fife. Although on reading a description of these
exercises they might be deemed frivolous or unnecessary, yet far
different is the effect produced on witnessing the wonderful per-
fection which is attained by this practised skill, uniformity and
exactitude in every movement and operation. Hand and feet,
body and mind, are taught to work together in the same manner
as with the best drilled troops. All the various performances
that may be required at a fire, are rehearsed and practised syste-
matically at this gymnasium, until the actors are rendered perfect
in their parts, and act with all the order and efficiency of well-
A VIEW OF A BERLIN FIRE ENGINE.
GLEASON'S. PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
341
THE NEW FIRE DEPARTME^^T OF BERLIN, IN PRUSSIA.
accustomed veteran troops. It will be seen in the engravin^: on
the previous pape, that the ladders employed are very short, reach
ing only to the height of one story. In this particular, with some
improvement, they have adopted the plan and model of Paris,
and rejected tlie use of long ladders, as formerly practised, which
was found to be attended with many inconveniences, particularly
in narrow streets and other confined localities. Amongst other
exercises, the handling, affixing, and mounting these ladders, to
a four-story house is practised at the head-quarters of the Fire
FIRE MASTER.
Department, where there is a building used for the express pur-
pose. These ladders, each of which can be managed by asingle man,
are provided with a pair of strong iron hooks, by means of which
they are easily hnng on to the window sills. At a given signal
four (or more) of these ladders are applied to the lower range of
windows. The panes of glass give away before them, and they
hang securely. They are simultaneously mounted, the man be-
strides the \vindow sill, and from thence with his right arm affixes
his ladder to the window in the story above. This operation is
repeated still higher up, and in this manner the windows of three
FIREMAN.
stories may be gained simultaneously in the course of less than
five minuies, at moderate speed, and it is frequently done on the
exercise ground in less time. Each movement is made with the
uniformity, exactitude and celerity of a traiaed band, and resem-
bles the drill of a cavalry regiment. The city is divided into
eighteen fire wards. Each ward has an engine, its complement
of men, and all requisite belongings, in constant readiness. Eight
or nine of these engines, etc., form oae group or company belonging
to one large district, of which there are five. All of these wards
are connected together by means of electro-magnetic telegraphic
communication, aho with the head police department and the
establishment of -the Fire Department. When a fire is discov-
ered, it is made known simultaneously at all these stations, and
it may be reached from the nearest station in two or three min-
utes, and from the rest proportionately, according to relative dis-
tance. The most remote fires may be arrived at from the central
point within a quarter of an hour at very farthest. It is almost
unnecessary to add, that when at the scene of action, every pro-
ceeding, from the first recoimoitre, is conducted with all the forms,
discipline and regularity of military movements ; it is also evident
that great advantage is derived from the system, which harmo-
nizes every movement, and brings in play well trained and prac-
tised skill, order and obedience.
In this country the idea of a military organization as connected
with the Fire Department of any of our large cities, would be
scouted at. Here such service must hear on its crest the words
"voluntary aid," or else it loses the main feature which charac-
ENGINE MAN.
terizes its spirit in America. And yet we can see some propriety
in such a plan, and especially in European countries, where the
military system forms so large an element of the principles of
government and police regulations. System is imparted to the
efforts of the body of firemen thus organized, in a more sure and
reliable manner than can possibly attach itself to a volunteer
corps of men ; and yet, what would our New York, Philadelphia,
or Boston firemen say to such a plan being adopted here ? It
■would find few advocates, we imagine, in this country of republi-
can ideas and feelings.
BERLIN FIRE ENGINE AND MEN
312
GLEA SON'S PICTOIIIAL DPxAYflNG TvOOM COMI'ANION.
[Written for OIciiHon's Pictorial.]
BEAUTY'S OFFERING.
ADDRESSED TO TilM DRAWING-KOOM COMPANION.
BY JOSliPU 11. BXITLER.
OlToring lit tho shrine of beauty,
Elegant iiud swcot boufiuot ;
00 thou onward in thy duty,
Dear art thou an flowovH in May I
Ever wolcorao ia thy grootiog,
Unto mindB of love and light ;
Sirttor-arts * in theo are mooting,
Blending, beautiful and bright.
, Honor to thy varied swcetnofla.
Honor to that master-mind; t
Who, with peerless taste and neatness,
Countless heautite has combiued !
Tliou shalt live, for thou hast merit _
Time thy value shall increase ;
"Wider fame thou shalt inherit,
Visitant of light and peace !
Lovely eyes shall linger on thee,
Fairy hands thy pages turn ;
Genius easts her charm upon thee.
Where her kindled altars burn ;
1 would blend with thee a flower.
Wild, yet sometimes eiuiply sweet;
To beguile a weary liour,
Twine it where the lovely meet !
* Poetry and Painting.
t r Gleasou, Esq.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE HALF-WAY OAK:
— OK —
THE COMBAT OF THIRTY.
BY IIENEY WILLIAM HEREEKT.
In tlic beautiful province of Morbihan, one of
the fairest in that western part of France, known
in old time as Brittany, and famous for the hardy
valor and somewhatbraggartspirit of its natives,
who were for the most part engaged, during the
long French and English wars, under the ban-
ners of the British Plantagenets, against the
standard of the House of Valois, there lies be-
tween the towns of Ploermel and Josselin a wide
expanse of heathery waste, extending for many
leagues on every side, interspersed here and
there, on its more elevated surfaces, with patch-
es of old forest, occasionally intersected by deep
ravines, where the streams and rivulets, tributa-
ry to the Oust, the CJaye, and the Vilaine, have
channelled the sandy soil of the lands, and sink-
ing, at its lowest levels, into vast green morass-
es, full of all sorts of wild water-fowl v;hich may
tempt tlic ardent sportsman.
Most solemn and most solitary are those vast
level tracts, across which the west wind sweeps
uninterrupted, from its long career over the wild
Atlantic, with its deep melancholy voice, in the
lulls of which it requires but a small effort of the
imagination to detect the wail of the Ossianic
ghosts, which may well be supposed to haunt
those desert heaths, on which yet stand unvisitcd
and half- forgotten the mossy cairns and mono-
lithic circles of the old unhallowed Druids.
Yet is there a strange quiet beauty in those
long undulating levels, waving far and near with
ihe purple blossoms of the rich russet heather,
relieved here by the golden bloom of the prickly
furze and the gorgeous Spanish broom, haunted
by myriads of wild bees ; and there by the deep
emerald verdure of the feathery fern, or the
brigliter and more velvet-green of the treacherous
morasses, from which the lonely bittern booms
and tlie curlew screams unmolested.
Midway between the two quaint old provincial
towns, above mentioned, on a conspicuous swell
of ground, whereon the tufted heatlier has made
way, over a space of a few hundred paces in cir-
cumference, for a growth of dense short mossy
turf, there still stands, huge, gray, stag-horned
and lightning-sliivered, yet not wholly dead, one
of the giants of the ancient forest, which, proba-
bly, before the days of Cassar, overshadowed all
those bare and barren plains, an immemorial
oak.
Some fifty paces from the trunk of the grim
veteran, there gushes from a little hollow in the
hill tide, where a richer growth of herbage,
mixed with a few tall meadow rushes, and tufts
of the sweet-scented water briony, gave token of
the vivifying effects of the grateful moisture, a
clear sparkling source of very cold water, ^vhich
ripples away merrily over a bed of many-colored
pebble.'!, to join a neighboring stream, the chan-
nel of which may be seen furrowing the plain
toward the far liriglit line which marks thecoursc
of llie Vilaine.
The shadow of the old oak tree, grateful in the
noonday lieats of a French September, and tlic
delicious cooliie.ss of tho limpid water, found
here alone amid the arid and treeless waste, had
rendered that spot a favorite resting-place of
mine, when wearied witli the pursuit of the rcd-
Icggcd partridge and tlic blackcock, ■ which
abounded on the heathery swells and coppices of
oakwood, or of the snipe and woodcock, which
swarmed in the marshes, long before I knew or
suspected that the lone mound and the oaken
cano[>y, to which I owed so many a noontide
slumber, or half- waking day-dream, had pillowed
the last sleep, and waved above the gory and
disfigured forms of knighfs and nobles, borne
down in tlie iierce game of spears, at the clear
trumpet call of chivalry and honor.
Yet so it was, for five Inindred years ago the
half-way oak betwixt Josselin and rioermel,
old even then, and already a time-hoaoic-d land-
mark, had felt its scanty foliage thrill and shiver
to the keen-charging blast of the French and
English trumpets, and its gray gnarled trunk
had groaned and trembled, when the earth shook
beneath the furious horse-tramps of the chivalric
combatants of Brittany and Britain.
Those were the saddest days — the darkest
days — that ever gloomed over the fair land of
France, until four centuries later the hellish toc-
sin of mad revolution called forth a nation of
enfranchised slaves to celebrate the saturnalia of
lust, and blasphemy, and blood.
The leopard banners of the dread Plantage-
nets floated free as the winds that shook their
emblazoned folds over one-half of the provinces
of France. The wild northern dialects of York-
shire and Northumberland were as familiar as
the merry langue d'oil, or the soft langue d'oc,
to the sunny shores of the Garonne, or the vol-
canic mountains of Auvergne. The island arch-
ery held watch and ward in half the garrisons
and castles, from the jms de Calais and the sand-
hills of the British Channel, to the rude crags of
Finisterre, and the purple vineyards of the broad
Garonne.
All France was alive with the clangor of
trumpets and the din of arms ; for when the
royal armies were in the field no longer, and
weariness, or want of the sinews of war, had
forced the chiefs to brief inaction, the lords and
seneschals of the French provinces and the com-
manders of the English garrisons would prose-
cute their private feuds, would set their arrays
in fierce opposition, and fight as gallantly, as
fiercely and as fatally for the possession of a
frontier town or fortress, or failing these incite-
ments for the mere winning of ^os and renown in
arms, as would their monarchs for the sovereign-
ty of a fair empire.
Never, since first the possession of Normandy
and La Bretagne had been disputed to the pos-
terity of RoUo, had the war-spirit waxed so high
between the sons of France and the island in-
vaders, in the year 1351 of the Christian era.
This was in truth the very age of chivalry, and
the English Edwards the highest, the truest, and
the most consistent of its champions and patrons.
These were tlie feats of knight errantry, the high
and perilous emprizes for the light of ladies' eyes,
the punctilious and fantastic courtesies, the won-
drous deeds of daring and devotion done and
suffered, which arc ascribed by the poets and ro-
mancers of the middle ages to the fabulous court
of King Arthur and his table round, or to the
early feudal days of Charlemagne. The order
of the garter, the pearl chaplet of Eustache de
Ecbeaumonte, the captive majesty of France
served on the bended knee by his bare-lieaded
conqueror, himself the valiant son of a right va-
liant king, the passages of arms fought, out, a
I'outrance, in all courtesy and grace by friendly
and admiring foemen, the wild honor shown in
the judicial combats, the faith that yet existed,
living and real, in the honor, truth and gallantly
of man, the reverence for, and adoration of, the
virtue and the purity of v/oman, v/b.ich pervaded
every sentiment and institution of that age, as
never any other, either before or since, attest
those bloody years of France, the very age and
body of the days of chivalry.
Nor any stranger or more fiiraous exploit was
performed in all those stirring times, than that
which rendered famous, even to this very day,
the old half-way oak tree of Ploermel, that even
in this nineteenth century the Breton pea.sant of
the landes, striding across the blasted heath, like
some gigantic fowl of fairy legends, upon his
towering stilts, pauses beneath the thin shadow
of the sere oak to breathe a prayer for the brave
Bretons who died there for their country's glory,
or to cool his lips at those limpid waters, from
which bravest Beaumanoir refrained his fiery
tliirst, so long as one foe stood unconquered in
tho lists.
About this time, Sir Thomas ])aggcwort]ic, a
good kniglit, and of great renown, wlio was King
Edward's constable in Brittany, was slain in an
action with the French ; and thereat the English
knights and esquires, nor these only — for Sir
Thomas was right well loved Ijy the host, — but
all the archers and varlcts of the army, were ex-
ceeding wrotj], and greatly set on vengeance, so
that they filled and wasted all the country far
and near, and the hamlets and open villages they
fired, whenever they came into them, seeing that
they might not lay hands on those who slew him
to have present vengeance; and of what cjistles
they took they admitted not the garrisons to any
composition, nor held their lords or castellans to
any ransom, but put them to the sword without
mercy; only the ladies they harmed not. But
the villains and the Jacques of the country, on
whom the war had laid its hand lightly hereto-
fore, seeing their dwellings wasted and destroyed
with fire, and all their substance harried, were
enforced either to fly with their families to the
strong cities fgr succor, or else they scattered them-
selves abroad in the heaths and forests, and be-
come pillers themselves, and murderers of men
and violators of women, and associated them-
selves in armed bands, waging war on all sun-
dry, whom they might find delivered to their
hands, and they did detriment to the country
more than the English or the free companions.
And thereat, in their turn, the French com-
manders waxed wroth, for they said it was for-
tune of war that Daggeworthe had fallen, and
that in rude feats of arms men must need look
of such things, for it is like that some must die;
but that this was no just war which the English
and the companions waged, to burn open towns
and hamlets, and plunder miserable peasants,
and put knights and nobles to sword, whom they
might hold to ransom, and so have good gain
and win los before God and the ladies.
Now Beaumanoir was, in those days, mare-
schal of France, and he commanded in Bretagne
for King John, and Sir Miles Bemborough was
governor of Ploermel for King Edward, and
held it with a force of Englishmen, and some
Germans and Bretons, all good and doughty
men-at-arms.
And Beaumanoir, desiring that this sort of
cruel war should have an end, sent to Ploermel
for a passport to hold conference with Bem-
borough ; but when they came together, nothing
proceeded, save that they came to high words,
and haughty, and defiances on both sides ; for
Bemborough had been a comrade in arms to
Daggeworthe, and he denied calling the virgin
and the saints to witness, that it was no fortune
of war or fair fighting when Sir Thomas fell,
but that he was done dishonestly to death after
he had yielded himself to ransom. Then one of
them proposed a combat a I'outrance of thirty on
a side, for decision of all difference, and, at once,
the place was appointed for it at the half-way
oak, between Josselin and Ploermel, and the
day was fixed for the 27th of March, the fourth
Sunday in Lent, when they should meet, armed
each as he should choose to fight it out for honor
and the ladies.
The day came round, and no fairer shone that
year out of heaven than that fair and fragrant
Sunday, in the sweet early spring-time, when
the birds were singing joyously from every spray
in the thickets, when the meadow blooms were
gay among the green springing grass, and when
the newly budding leaves were lending a hue of
verdure even to the gray and gnaided branches
of the half-way oak.
With the first break of dawn came a few
pages and varlets, all unarmed, with chinirgeons
and medicaments for the wounded, and such re-
freshment as might be needed by the worn and
weary, and priests to shrive the dying, and smooth
their road into the dark and pathless realms of
the unknown.
Two large pavilions were pitched at a mile's
distance, the oak midway between them ; nearer
than this no person, save the heralds on either
side, with their poursuivants and trumpeters,
should be permitted to approach the field, lest
succor of any sort, which was strictly prohibited
by the terms of the cartel, should be rendered on
either side by the pages or servitors of the
knights, who should chance to be worsted in tlie
melee.
At nine of the clock both companies made
their appearance on the plain, all armed with the
exception of their casques, ari-ayed under their
proper banners, with their heralds and trumpet-
ers before them.
That was a goodly and a glorious sight to be-
hold, for they were all noble horsemen, and the
horses Ihey bestrode were all right handsome
and strong, and full of fiery spirit; and their
riders were sheathed in suits of plate and mail
that blazed in the red sunlight, and ihey wore
overcoats of silk and sarcenet, and some of cloth
of silver and gold tissue, emblazoned with the
bearings of their houses. And they all bare
themselves bravely, sitting upright in their stir-
rups, with their lances erect, flashing back the
sunbeams from their broad heads of Bourdeau
steel. They had all confessed them ycstcreve,
and as thcii* souls were free from sin, so were
their breasts light and confident, and their coun-
tenances joyous and full of animation, as cham-
pions' countenances should be, who do battle
willingly for God and their countries' and their
ladies' honor.
With Beaumanoir there rode nine knights and
oneand-twenty squires, whom he had elected for
their prowess. The knights were the Lord of
Tintcniae, Guy de Bochefort, Yves Charruel,
Robin Kaquencl, Huon de St. Yoon, Caro de
Bodegat, Olivier Arrel, Geoffry du Bois, and
Jehan Rousselet,
On the English side there were few knights
and not many esquires, for the number of the
garrison limited them, so that they were forced
to admit private men-at-arms, and some free
companions, and so many as ten Germans, for
of Englishmen or true Bretons they could collect
but twenty. But among them were some sol-
diers of great note ; Sir Robert linolles and Sir
Hugh Calverley, two of King Edward's greatest
captains, and the celebrated Breton partizan,
Croquart, and Herve de Lexualen, and Richard
and Hugh le Gaillart, and Richard de la Lande,
and two private soldiers — Hulbitee, a Breton of
gigantic size and vast strength, and Bilfort, a
north countryman, who fought with an iron mace
or mallet of twenty-five pounds weight.
Still it was clear that the English were over-
matched, and Bemborough was aware of it; for
before they joined battle he observed to Beau-
manoir that he had engaged ia this contest im-
prudently, for that he had not the permission of
his king so to risk the lives of his fellows. But
the mareschal replied : " See thou to that. It is
now too late for aught but battle. Nor will we
knights of Brittany withdraw till it be proven
by the lance whether we nobles of Bretagne or
you knights of England have the fairer and
and more faithful mistresses."
Then, on both sides, the champions briefly
harangued their men, and Bemborough promised
victory to his troops, since he declared that there
was an ancient prophecy of Merlin, who was
equally esteemed a seer by the English and the
Bretons, to that effect. Then .shrill and piercing
rose tlie clangor of the trumpets from either end
the lists, and above the din of the screaming
brass, the loud voice of the poursuivants. Fakes
vos devoirs, precise chevaliers, laissez allei-l
The spurs were dashed into the chargers*
flanks, the lances were laid in rest, and with a
shock and a clang that was heard at a league's
distance, the champions met in full cai-eer.
Many a gallant horse went down, many a
saddle was emptied, and many a proud crest sank,
five to rise no more, and these all Bretons. But
scarce had the dust cleared away from the shock,
ere the clang of arras recommenced ; and fiercer
and moi"e deadly at close quarters, with short
weapons, now between mounted and dismounted,
wounded and un wounded, but all undaunted
champions, rallied and ruled the fray. Tv. o
hours raged it thus. The dash of the two-handed
broad-swords on burgonets and bucklers still
rang unwearied as the din of hammers on the
armorers' stithies. And the wild war-cries,
*' France and St. Denys," " St. George for Mer-
ry England," pealed to the skies, mixed with the
gathering cries of the noble horses and the en-
senzies of the individual champions.
There was a pause, for though human valor
might hold out, human strength could endure no
longer. The trumpets sounded a recall, and re-
luctantly, though but for a while, the warriors
parted.
Of the Bretons twelve had been slain outright,
and three men had been carried from the field
desperately wounded. Of the English fourteen
lay dead in their harness on the plain ; not one
had left the field, though two or three could
scarcely drag their limbs along under the weight
of their harness. After brief pause and short re
frcshment, the trumpets again flourished for tho
attack, and maddened by the din, again tho
champions met.
On either side there were now left but six
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING R003I OOMPAXIOX.
313
knights mounted, and these again charged head-
long. Bemboiough, wcuadcd thrice already,
met Beanmanoir i:i fu'i ca.-eer. and spiintered
hid lance fairly-on his crest ; b.;: :iis o^n charger
went down, and ere he coulri recover his feet,
his helmet and the stout head^vitnm it were shat-
tered by an axe in the h.. nds of ihe Lord of Tin-
teniae. Calverley, Knolles and Cro^uart, all
tliree unhorsed their antagonists, buc cheir own
chargers were killed at the same instant by the
fooWeu of the Bretons. At the end of that
chaige, there was lef'i i)ut one champion who yet
kept his destrier, "Walter de Montmorcnci, an
cstpiire of the Bretons, and he was so sorely hurt
that he was forced co draw out of the melee for
a while, until lie niij;ht staunch his wounds and
bind them with his scarf.
Bnt Croquart, when he saw Bemborough go
down, rallied the English in a solid circle, siiout-
ing to them cheen'.y : " Companions, think not
now of Merlin or his prophecies, but depend on
your courage and your arms. Hold well to-
gether, be Ih'ni, and tight as I do !"
Then thrice up went the sturdy English cheer,
and betaking themselves to their battle-axes,
they dealt such shrewd and heavy blows that no
casques or corselets might withstand them, and
though they were the fewer in numbers, the Bre-
tons might make no impression on their phalanx.
Beaumanoir, faint with thirst, and weak with
loss of blood, reeled toward the little source, in-
tending to refresh his failing strength, and return
to the fray recruited, when Gsoffry du Bois
caught him by the arm, and shouted : " Bois tnn
sang, Beaumanoir ; iu n'aurais plus de soif!"
(Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir; so shalt thou
thirst no more. ) And half blind with agony and
anger, he reeled back into the mdee, dealing
blows at hazard.
At this instant, just as the Bretons v/ere des-
pairing, and the English all but triumphant, a
tierce shout was heard, and the tramp of a charg-
ing stallion.
"A Montmorenci to the rescue!" and the
coal-black war-horse, whitened with foam flakes
as with a snow-storm, and reeking with gore
from spur-galls and sword-cuts, plunged into tiie
little English band, yerking out his heels, biting
furiously, and overthrowing men on all sides.
Calverley, who fronted his charge, was over-
thrown by a blow of his iron charafront; a side
croupade struck Knolles to the ground ; Cro-
quart was brought to his knee by a sweep or'— =
rider's broad-sword. All three were or^stered
and made prisoners ere they could recover their
footing. Their comrades were slain to a man.
That chance charge of Montmorenci sectled the
debate. The Breton lords were masters of the
day — the Breton ladies fairest. For this died
twenty-seven Englishmen and nineteen Bretons.
The vanquished lost no honor. Tinteniae, by the
Bretons' conquest of the British, had the prize of
valor. Such was the combat of ihe thirty l)y
the old oak of Ploermel.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
A MAIDEN'S TEARS.
BV :
BUCU.4NAN BEAD.
0, when a maiden's soul is stirred
To pity's deepest, last excess.
And, like aocie lonely, brooding bird,
Kolds its bright -vviDgs in mom-nfulnfEs ;
And pours its eymputhy in sigbB,
That sweeten on the rosy lips j
And sends the tears into the eye?,
To flood tbeni with a balfecHpae. —
How brighter its veiled beauty shows
Than all the light which joy bestows '.
Thus fairer the fair fiower appeai-s,
Beneath a dewy fullness bowed ;
The moon a double lustre wears,
Within the halo of a cloud.
The music of a maiden's mirth,
May be the sweetest sound to earth ;
But tears, in love and pity given.
Are welcomer, by far, to Heaven.
« ■»■— »
SHADOWS.
There is a mysterious, a spiritual beauty in
shadows, which wc iind in nothing else; and in
the poetic mind they always awake and stir a
yearning after the Unseen — a consciousness of
the Infinite, — thus filling a great want of the
soul, as no earthly ministration can. I know
not how it \i, but there is no'^hiiig tonclies me
with such an exquisite sensibility to all that is
lovely, and truthful, aud dirine, as the shadows
of trees seen by moonlight. It seems to me that
they are the connecting link between matter and
mind — between sense and soul ; and though un-
substantial and fleeting of themselves, yet they
lie on the very borders of eternity, reflecting on
this sensual being, delicate images of the only
great and real realities — the Spiritual and the
Infinite. — Spirit Metisengcr.
[Written for Glcason'e Pictorial.]
DREAfllS.
EY PHEB£ CART.
What^j'cv before my sight appears,
One vision in my heart is borne ;
Two swectj sad faces, w«t with t«ars,
Seen through the dim, gray light of morn.
And half o'ershadowing them arise,
Thoughts, M'hich are never lulled to sltei'.
Of one, whose calm, rebukiug eyes
Are sadder that they do not weep.
0 friend, whose lot it might not ha
To tread, with me, life's path of ills ;
0 friend, who jet shalt walk v/ith mo
The white path of the eternal hills !
Gone arc the moments when we planned
Those sweet, but unsubstantial bowers,
In some unknown and pleasant laud,
AMiere all our future wound tlirough flowcra.
Into the past eternity
Ilave faded all those hopes and scenies ;
That summer Lsland, in the sea.
Slept only in our se:i of di-eame.
1 know not if our hope was sio.
When that fair structure was upbuilt ;
But this I know, that mine has been
The bitterest recompense of guilt.
And the wild tempest of despair
Still sweeps my spirit like a blast ;
Years, penance, agonizing prayer,
(Jould you not save me from the past I
< ^a^ >
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. XII.
BT DR. JEROME V. C. SMITH.
PUBLIC FOTJM"TAINS.
Contrasted with the fountains of CairOj
those of Constantinople are objects of attraction.
They are protected by singularly contrived build-
ings, having a resemblance to one of the stories
of a Chinese pagoda. Immensely wide eves jut
out from the main body, ofiFering protection from
the sun's rays or rain. That near the extreme
gat« of the seraglio, is studded over with sacred
inscriptions from the Koran, and, by way of
eminence, it is called the Well of Paradise. In
point of elegance of design, and beautifuj archi-
tectural proporiions, the fountain near the richly-
finished mausoleum of Mahmoud II excels all
others. A crowd of thirsty, black-bearded Mus-
sulmen were invariably drinking its pure water
whenever we happened to pass it.
Water is brought to tlie capital fiom a dis-
tance. With a people proverbially temperate,
both from choice and principle, an adequate sup-
l>ly was of the first consideration.
Water-bearers constitute a distinct class, who
are divided into horse watermen and those who
peddle the necessary of life from door to door.
Those on foot, much after the custom in Egyp-
tian cities, have strong leather bags, or skins
taken whole from the animal, wliicli they fill at
the public fountains and retail to families. It is
a tolerable source of income. On the other
hand, the horse watermen merely lead about
their laden beasts, the bags being large, and thus
enabling them to return less frequently to re-
plenish. All through the Orient, these skin
bags, both for water and other purposes, when
fluids are to be conveyed, are universal, as they
doubtless have been from a remote antiquity.
A third order of water-bearers, precisely, in
all respects, like the charity water-carriers of
Arabic cities, move about, supplying gratuitous-
ly whoever demands a swallow. They are paid
from funds provided by conscientious, pious per-
sons, whose benevolence must be always appreci-
ated even by Christians when thirsty. These
laborious ftUows, always staggering under a
heavy weight of the precious beverage, fonn a
corporation by themselves. The patron of the
guild is a Mahommedan saint, one Suleiman
Kufaly, who once had the supreme happiness to
present the Prophet water enough to satisfy his
thirst. Being considered an honest, discreet
sort of men, their eutr-incc into houses is per-
mitted at all hours. A multitude of families
have no servants to send to the wells, and cus-
tom forbids the women to go, hence the sakas
are allowed this freedom. Report accuses them
of being artful dogs, however, who, under pre-
tence of gravely supplying the families of their
customers, arc sadly guilts." of intrigues, both
' with the inmates of the harems and the menial
female attendants.
A leather bag holding ten gallons, is sold for
ten paras, equal to two cents only, of our curren-
cy, however far it may have been transported.
An ofHcer. called Sou Nazier, has under him
the Sou loiJgi, and other hard-named servants
and assistant.^, who have charge of all the foun-
tains, keep them in repair, and see thatno injury
accrues to ihem.
While on the Giant's Mountain, we had a dis-
tant view of the whitewashed arches of the great
aqueduct of Valens, one of the Greek emperors,
who ascended the throne in the year 376. It
conducts water from hills near the Black Sea,
and thus all the principal cisterns are kept full.
BUItlAL PLACES.
After having examined the immense burial
(icids of this great city, in which grave-stones are
numerous beyond any examples in Christian
lands, the question involuntarily obtruded itself
thus : Where was so much stone manufactured ?
All the burning yards are vastly extensive,
filled with the tall, dark green cypress, and the
grave-stones huddled together, leaning at all con-
ceivable angles.
A flat stone is either laid over the grave, with
a mortice at one end, into which the foot of the
upright head-stone is inserted, or a pretty solid
stone block is partly imbedded at the head of the
grave, and the tenon of the head slab let into
that.
If the grave of a male, the head-stone is sur-
mounted by a heavy excrescence, made to imi-
tate a turban. The patterns are various, and so
is the workmanship. Millions of them have
fallen, been broken, and others tumble over the
first, and thus the burial place is lost sight of in
a few years, beyond the recovery of fiiends.
All the yards are dark, damp and dreary, by
reason of the compactness of the trees.
On the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, the
cemetery of Scutari far exceeds all others in
magnitude that I have seen in any country — being
over three miles long, by a mile in width, appa-
rently, and perhaps really so, in several places.
As but one body is allowed to be put in a grave,
it will explain the amazing dimensions of the
still increasing city of the dead.
We rode by it on horseback, but did not pene-
trate its interior, dark and gloomy, like a primi-
tive forest. Paths stood out in various direc-
tions, and there are a few avenues, obstructed by
heaps of broken grave-stones and other accumu-
lations.
Some travellers have been particular to dwell
with enthusiasm on the beautiful appearance of
the cypress, and especially in Turkish cemeteries,
as being both majestic and solemnly appropriate
to that especial service. To me it appears stifl",
gloomy and unyielding. Forbidding, as any
graveyard must be, tasteless as tliose are at
Constantinople, they are made infinitely more so
by those sad-looking trees.
In consequence of the universality of the cus-
tom to have stones at the head and foot of every
grave, the manufacture of them is a productive
trade. All the shops and sheds of those who
work in stone, are filled, wherever there is room,
with those ready for market, of various kinds
and cost.
In connection with this profitable business,
books of epitaphs arc kept by the dealers, out of
which mourning friends select something appro-
priate to the circumstances, character, moral
worth and other qualities of their deceased
friends.
A funeral is a hnrrieJ ceremony, which is pre-
sumed to be the means of burying many alive.
It is a historical fact that Othraan HI was ac-
tually put into the sarcophagus while in an un-
conscious condition that led to the opinion he
was dead. Mustapha III was immediately raised
to the throne. Before the ceremony was con-
cluded, it seems that his late august predecessor
began to manifest unmistakable signs of retuni-
ing life. The grand vizier, however, soon put all
uneasiness on that score to rest, by heaping on a
pile of gravel.
This Mustaplm, who tluis got into power iu
17.57, made rapid advances in civilization. Such
was his respect for medical learning that he
caused tlie works of Boerhaavc to be transhvtcd
into the language of thecountr}-; and furtliur,
had his son inoculated for the small pox.
CoflBns are not common. After various wash-
ings of the body by persons set apart for it in tJie
community, and the funeral clothing put on, a
large sheet is wound round it, being long enough
to be tied into a knot at either extremity. Next,
it is caiTied away on a bier, Hii-ed mourners
perform their part finely in countcrfciling grief
The mausolea of the sultans are curiosities
which, on no account, should be overlooked by
the traveller. Kadines, tliose distinguished fe-
males of whom mention has been already made,
as being set apart to be mothers of the royal
children, cannot be placed after death in the
same apartment with the illustrious fatlier of
their children, because they were slaves. Mo-
thers of sultans, their daughters and sons, arc
allowed the hoi\or of a royal sepulchre, with
their relations.
The mausoleum of Solyman, and that of
Mahmoud IF, are truly beautiful, bearing no
kind of resemblance to the sombre abodes of
death to which we are accustomed, where civili-
zation is credited with improving the public
taste. Besides large, airy, above-ground apart-
ments, well lighted, and ornamented with book
stands for pious readers of the Koran, there are
glasslampSjbeautiful metallic candlesticks, lamps,
ostrich eggs, elegant marble floors, drapery,
lieavy silk coverings, tassels, cashmere shawls,
and rich parcels of carpeting.
A sandooka is a kind of wooden coffin, laid
on the floor, on a marble slab that covers the
body. A sultan's box is disproportionately large,
but it is, therefore, the more imperial. Seven
shawls, together with a bit of the holy veil
brought from Mecca, adds to its sanctity.
Mounted at the elevated end of the sandooka,
is a rich turban, bearing d. cluster of diamonds
in front.
Mahmoud II lies in state, quite alone. His
mother, who is represented to have been the
daughter of Charles VII, of France, is near by,
which this conquering hero prepared sometime
before his own death. While quite young, on
the way to become the queen of John V, the
Greek emperor, she was taken prisoner by a
Turkish corsair, aud given as an acceptable pre-
sent to Murad II, the father of Mahommed II,
whose existence was due to that extraordinary
misfortune of his mother. The grandmother of
Medjid, the mother of Mahmoud II, lit s buried
within the same enclosure.
Bajazet II, Selim I, Solyman I, Selim II and
Murad, are objects of curiosity. This last
named Sultan, Murad III, has by his side seven-
teen murdered brothers and ihe son of Maliom med III.
Achmet I, Murad IV, and Osman 11, strangled
by the Janizaries, in 1622, and a host of mur-
dered princes who were put out of the way on
tlie ascension of a new ruler on the throne, arc
sad and awful memorials of the bloody scenes
that have been enacted in Constantinople, and
may again be repeated.
But the mausoleum of Mahmoud II is far su-
perior to all others, and as a piece of architecture,
is truly a remarkable monument of taste and
skill. We walked about in the vast room con-
taining biers, sandookas, carved balustrades,
drapery, Korans, shawls, jewels, aigrettes, peer-
ing through the magnificent windows to a fairy
fountain which belongs to the design, and it was
difficult to realize that the dead were exclusively
in the occupancy of the costly construction.
Spread about the lofty apartment are the indi-
cated remains of the cliildren and sistei'S of the
stern, imperial Mahmoud. The female graves
are not surmounted by turbans, while each prince
is marked by that never-to-be neglected emblem
of royal condition, by the accident of birth.
Some of the sepulchres of the mothers of sul-
tans are evidences of a profound respect for their
memory by their turbulent sons. If they even
make a show of human affection, it is towards
them. Very little is exhibited for fathers or
brothers.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
liEOJVOKE.
BY E, CITRTISS HIXE, U. S. N.
Where the long summer shades are lyioig,
Thrown from the willow's crest ;
And the evening breeze is sighing,
AVhen red in the golden we&t ;
IVliere the lettered stones are shining,
In the silvery moonbeams dreseed,
liponore in sleep is reclining,
With the green earth ou her hrent-t.
Too fair was she for a mortal,
To the angels near allied ;
Lo ! through the heavenly portal.
They bore the destined bride ;
She has left a m orid of sorrow.
Of sin and care behind ;
But her voice do the song-birds borrow,
As they .^oar on the summer wind.
Dis^xmbled holiness is double iniquity.
3U
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DIIAAVING IIOOM COMPANION.
REPRESENTATION OF THE PHILADELPHIA FISH MARKET.
PHILADELPHIA MARKETS.
Few cities can boast of markets better supplied
with the bounties of nature than Philadelphia.
Let the reader, particularly a stranger, take a
tour of observation through them, especially on
Wednesday and Saturday mornings, and be'will
behold an exceedingly interesting spectacle. He
will tind these buildings well supplied with all
kinds of meat, poultry, game, fish, vegetables,
fruit, etc., while the streets in the immediate
vicinity are crowded in all directions with well
filled baskets. In their distribution throughout
the city, these markets embrace altogether over
forty entire squares, in addition to the range of
wagon stands on Market Street and on Second
Street, which, of themselves, form a line equal
to three miles. The Fish Market, here present-
ed in a correct picture, was first
erected in 1710, and in 1729 was
continued up to Third Street.
For a long period it was marked
with the appendages of pillory,
stocks and whipping post. The
last remembered criminal punish-
ed here was a genteel storekeep-
er, convicted of forgery. The
gentleman made amends to an
injured public, by having his face
well pelted with rotten eggs, and
his ears clipped by the sheriff.
In looking through this market,
lately, we were reminded of the
Fish Market of Havana. Thi»
much celebrated market aifords
probably the best variety of this
article of any city in the world.
The long marble counters display
the most novel and curious array
that can weli be imagined ; every
hue and shade is represented, and
we might almost say every shape
also, so mfinite is their variety.
A glance at the tempting display,
taken as a whole, reminds one of
a look through the prism from
the Canada shore upon Niagarai
Falls, all its harmony and beauty
of color being apparent in the
scaly creatures before him. But
a curse bangs over this species of
food, plenty and fine as it is, for
it is under government monopoly^
and none but its agents are al-
lowed lo sell or even to catch it
in the vicinity of the city. This
arbitrary law commenced under
the government of Tacon, who
was one of the most enterprising
and liberal governors that Cuba
ever had, though some of his
enactments are very contradictory
in spirit. A man named Marti,
a pardoned smuggler, built the
btone market from the abundance
of his ill-gotten wealth, under an
agreement of his being permitted
to monopolize the sale of fish in
Havana for twenty years, after
which period the building revert-
ed to the government, by whom
the monopoly has ever since been
rigorounly enforced, and the pro-
secutions under the law are even
now frequent, and the penalty
r^cvere, affecting, of couj'se. only
1 ho poorfer and most needy elaasen.
JAMES W. WALLACR.
The accompanying likeness of this celebrated
gentleman is from a very fine lithograph by
Baugniet, and will at once be recognized by
those best acquainted with him as a \ery accu-
rate portraiture. It is by no means our purpose
to attempt a complete biography of Mr. Wallack,
but we will give a brief memoir of one of ihe
most varied and extraordinary theatrical careers
on record. Mr. James William Wallack was
born at Lambeth (London), on the 17th of Au-
gust, 179-4. His parents intended him for the
navy, and, at an early age, he received his ap-
pointment as midshipman; but, irresistibly at-
tracted by the profession of which his father had
been a distinguished member, lie soon renounced
the " cocked hat and dirk," and became one of a
number of young aspirants called " The Acade-
micals." It was during one of their perform-
ances that the great Richard Brinsley Sheridan
was struck with the promise displayed in the im-
personation of young Wallack, and, in conse-
quence, procured for him, at the age of twelve,
an engagement at Drury Lane Theatre, where,
for some years after, his precocious talents con-
tinued to be remarked and appreciated. He was
but eighteen when we find him playing " Laertes"
to Elliston's Hamlet. This was on the occasion
of the opening of the new Theatre Royal, Drury
Lane, the old theatre having been completely
destroyed by fire. From this period he con-
tinued a member of the Drury Company, play-
ing, with Edmund Kean, "Macduff'," "Edgar,"
"Richmond," "lago," etc., — a position of re-
PORTRAIT OF JAMES WILLIAM WALLACK.
sponsibility which, in such an establishment, at
so early an age, we believe to be unparalleled.
His marriage with the daughter of the celebra-
ted Mr. John Johnstone, better known as "Irish
Johnstone," took place in 1817, and his depar-
ture, on his first visit to the United States, fol-
lowed immediately. He made his first appear-
ance in New York, in "Macbeth," at the old
Park Theatre, to a house crowded to the ceiling,
and his success was instantaneous and decided.
In 1819 his eldest son — Mr. Lester Wallack —
was bom, and may thus be said to be the first
comedian introduced by his father to New York.
Mr. Wallack returned to England early in 1820,
and appeared at Drury Lane as " Hamlet,"
" Macbeth," " Othello," etc. In 1822, he again
visited America, and played a most brilliant en-
gagement in New York. Thence
he departed for Philadelphia, and
during that journey it was that, by
the breaking down of the stage, a
compound fracture of the leg in-
capacitated him for business for
the space of eighteen months.
When he had sufficiently recover-
ed from this terrible check to his
labors and his triumphs, he again
departed for England, leaving his
i\ardrobe in New York, having;
determined to act nowhere after
his accident, until his re-appear-
ance in America. When he did
make his bow at the Park Thea-
tre, some short time afterwards, it
was in the character of Captain
Bertram, an old sailor o« crutrhes.
The large audience assembled to
gi ve him welcome, though de-
lighted as usual at the beauty of
the acting, felt a mixed sensation
of regret to think that the favorite
artist was forever deprived of the
free use of his limbs. The ex-
pressions of surprise and enthu-
siasm may be imagined when, in
tlie second piece — " My Aunt," he
stepped upon the stage as " Dick
Dashall" with the elasticity and
firmness of tread that had been
wont to distinguish him during
his earliest engagements. Since
then, Mr. Wallack has been a
constant and welcome visitor to
our shores, and his popularity
would seem to increase with each
succeeding visit. In Boston, he
has ever been a most especial fa-
vorite, no better proof of which
could be adduced than the fact
that when he la-it played here,
some ."iix years ago, it was the/o/nvA
engagement in eleven months,
each one of which was most brilli-
ant and successful. Mr. Wallack
has now taken what was formerly
the Lyceum Theatre, New York,
and has assembled around him a
company certainly never surpass-
ed. His own re-ajipearancc, with
all the pristine vigor of former
years, has been a triumph of the
most flattering nature, and his
theatre is in the full tide of suc-
cessful operation. The cngrav ng
wo give is an excellent one, asido
frdm its being a fint) likbness.
GLEASONS PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
345
34G
GLEASUN'S PICTOIUAL DRAWING llOUM COMPANION.
[\Vrltton for UluaHuii'H I'icturial.]
KOVEilIBIiK.
AFTEIl TOM nOOD'9 "NO."
BY J. STAER irOLLOWAY,
No iifiu iu tiilking, r«iiUy 'tlH a bIii,
No couiforfc aii.\ wliuro, out doorn or in ;
No wiintitli ivitliln tliw oun-niyn,
No wiimitli within tbo llrc-bliizu ;
No Iinowini; wurniUi to win wlnjro to beyi"-
No plwifliiDt tliinsfl out-doorri,
No jirocty girlH to look ut;
No biibics on tlic floors,
No clianco to ci-y e'on 'fi-ciit ;
No M'lilkiiig out iiboiit the etreot witli fiieiids,
No meeting onu who Btoopa or uondcacenda ;
(No [Struct lit all, in lact,
No Irionda not pinclieil or ci-uckad ;)
No siiying " how d' ye do " to tlioiu you know,
No tlianks for .showing Btningers tho right way ;
No pardon begged for lui acciihnlal blow,
No hciiliug word, naught but *' get out, I say !"
No spark of joy on auy countenance,
No trilling what the ■' signs " are at a glance ;
No pockets full of rocks,
No rises in the stocks ;
No news in the newspapers,
No cutting Mr. Capers ;
No Nicaragua /(^vs to care about,
No " outrage " worth a fig, to swear about ;
No dinners to be given,— no visiting.
No toasting any one or any thing.
No starting on a speech without a snoenej
No one without a cold when asked to sing,
No getting anywhere to got a Fqueeze.
No rest, — no lying down in (fuiet,
No getting up without a riot j
No exercising common sense,
No use in all this eloquence.
No good in talking, really 'tis a sin,
No pleasure anywhere, out doors or in ;
" No go,"— no come.
No tweedle-dee, — no tweedle-dum ;
" No comfortable feel in any member ;"
No going where yon please,
-No end to your miseries ;
No pleasant breeze,— no blessing to remember ;
No life, — no tlowers,
No birds, — no bowers,
No shine, — no showers,
NoVEMBEIt.
[\Vritten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE AVALBRIDGE FAMILY.
A THANKSGIVING STORY.
Br MRS. CAROLINE ORNE.
CHAPTER I.
The last Thursday in ISIovember had been
set apart by the governor of Massachusetts, for
the celebration of Tlianksgiving. The long In-
dian summer, with its golden haze floating in
the air and tinging the purple mantle of the dis-
tant hills, bad ripened and mellowed the fruits
of the earth to a degree of unusual perfection.
The mild and Ijalmy weather had, however, sud-
denly given pUxcc to a hard frost. Those accus-
tomed to mark with care the atmospherical
changes, prognosticated a snow storm, and as it
was stated in the almanac, that " snow might he
expected about these days," the inhabitants of
the pleasant and retired country town of West-
brook conttdently anticipated that sleighing
would be added to the other enjoyments of the
time-honored festival.
Preparations for its celebration were com-
menced early in the morning on the Monday
preceding, and the baskets of rosy-cheeked ap-
ples and snowy eggs, the lumps of fresh butter
and bowls of delicious cream, and above all, the
large, goldcn-ii"d ]>umpkins, displayed on the
dreasci'.s and tables of the ample kitchens of the
farm-houses, constituted a delightful premonition
— to the juveniles, iu an especial manner — of the
nature of the feast which might be expected in
the articles of cakes and pastry, before which, tn
their estimation, the turkey, chickens, sirloin of
beef, and the ncvcr-to-be omitted boiled dish,
dwindled into comparative insignificance. But
among all the kitchens of the comfoi table farm-
liouscs of Westbrook, none exhibited so abun-
dant an array of edibles, and of such excellent
(juality, as the one where the wife and daughters
of Esquire Walbridge were preparing for the
festival.
Esquire "Walbridge was the i-ichest farmer in
the place, and an exam pie of the dignity of labor
was truly exhibited in him?>clf, and in his v.'ife
and daughters, They had no idea of its being
ungentecl, or beneath them, in any respect, lo
minister to their own necessities, and those of
the family; yet tliey had their own ideas of ex-
clusivencss, and tliough cither of the daughters
would have accepted a freeholder for a husband,
\vIio was obliged to toil early and lat3, or tlio
son of a farmer, who had norhing in his own
right, if he remained at home and worked on
his father's farm, a young man wlio was obliged
to hire out hy tlie mondi or year would have
been considered as iilUng an inferior station in
society, and, con.sei|uently, bencatii what they
had a right to expect in forming a matrimonial
alliance.
Mark Tiiurnton was what, in common par-
liuicc, was termed Ks(|uire Walhridge's " Iiired
man." He would, therefore — though one of the
best educated, the most intelligent and finest
looking young men in the place — have been
thought arrogant and presuming, had it been
suspected thai; he aspired to the hand of one of
his employer's daughters. Yet it was a piece of
arrogance which lie did venture to indulge in hi.i
secret heart; and, though he loved silently, the
fair object of his devotion knew it full well.
There were four daughters — Jane, llebecca, Ann
and Ella — the last being still a child. Rebecca,
the second daughter, was the one who had
a>vakened the admiration of Mark Thornton.
At first, he being only the " hired man," she
looked on him with some disdain; but his hand-
some' face, superior intelligence, and manly, in-
dependent demeanor, were not wirJiout their in-
fluence, and she soon, without being exactly con-
scious of it, began to reciprocate the sentiments
with which he regarded her. Not a single mem-
ber of the family suspected anything of the kind.
Had Esquire Walbridge himself done so, he
would not have hired him a single day after the
expiration of the time for which he had engaged
him. Mark, for the present, had no mind that
he should know it. He preferred having the
privilege of living under the same roof with the
beautiful Rebecca, and was willing to "bide his
time ;" for he felt that the season was not far dis-
tant, when he would ask for her hand without
danger of being repulsed.
" Let me see," said Mrs. Walbridge, as she
stood at a table paring the rind from the long,
curved slices of pumpkin, which Rebecca was
cutting from an uncommonly fine specimen of
the indispensable edible, "let me see liow many
we shall have to dinner Thanksgiving day.
There will be John and his wife and three chil-
dren, Daniel and his wife and their little Jenny,
your Aunt Hannah West and Uncle Daniel
Walbridge. Then, if the day is pleasant, grand-
father and grandmother Walbridge will come."
" Which will make twelve," said Rebecca.
"And then, you know, we always ask the
Widow Page and her daughter."
"And it will be no more than common polite-
ness to invite the schoolmaster," said Jane.
"It will be well enough to invite him, as he is
a stranger in the place," said Mrs. Walbridge.
" Wliat is his name V
" Bateman," replied Jane.
" I should n't wonder," said her mother, " if
he was a son of old Major Bateman. I was well
acquainted with the major wdien I w^as a girl. He
was as smart and enterprising a young man, as
one you'll see in a thousand. His father gave
him a lot of wild land, when he was twenty-one,
and he went right to work and cleared a dozen
acres of it — half of which he sowed to rye, and
planted the other half to corn. In the fall, he
took five hundred dollars in cash for what he
raised, which gave him a fine start in the world,
and encouraged him to go on as he had begun.
Now, you see, if he had done as Mark Thornton
has, hired out by the month or year, it would
have taken him a long time to earn what he did
in a single year."
" You know that Mark had no rich father to
give him a lot of land," said Rebecca.
'' That is true ; but I don't believe if he had,
that he would have been enterprising enough to
have cleared it, Mark is a civil, industrious
young man, hut he has not got enterprise enough
to suit me. I'll tell you, girls, what I have been
thinking of."
" What is it, mother V said Ann.
" I've been thinking that Mark Thornton and
Polly Shores, Mrs. Dresser's hired girl, would
make a good match."
" Why, mother," said Rebecca, " Polly Shores
is at least five years older than Mark, and is just
as plain as she can be. Besides, her education
is very poor; she can read and write, and that
is all."
" Well, she is a good working girl, as ever
was, and according to my mind, would make
Mark a first-rate wife."
" Why, Mark has as good an education as any
young man in the place," said Rebecca, " and is
better qualified to teach the school than Mr.
Bateman. Brother John, who is one of tlic cx-
uniiriing committee, says he is."
" You had better mind, Rebecca," said Aim,
" or we shall begin to think you have taken a
fancy to Mark."
" Well, you needn't think so," said Rebecca,
bending a little lower over the pumpkin she was
cutth)g to conceal her heightened color.
" Come, I guess wo shan't reckon up liow
many we are going to have to dine Thanksgiving
day, at this rate," said Jane.
"I guess so, too," said Mrs. Walbridge.
" We had got up to fifteen," said Ann, "in-
cluding tlie Widow Page and her daughter, and
the schoolma;;ter."
" Which, with our own family, will make
twcnty-tlu'ce," said Mrs. Walbridge. " And
then we some expect your Uncle David and his
family from Ncwburyport, which will make tlie
number up to thirty. Well, if there should be
fifty, we shall have enough and to spare. Here
comes Mark with another pumpkin. I am glad
he has brought it, for the kettles will hold an-
other just as well as not."
"I've just seen Sydney Philips," said Mark,
as he placed th'e pumpkin on the table. " Here,
Rebecca, let me cut it in half for you — I'm
stronger in the hand than you are."
"Ann, did you hear what Mark said about
Sydney Philips V said Jane.
" I rather think she did, by her blushing so,"
remarked Rebecca.
" I thought he was teaching school somewhere
this vacation," said Mrs. Walbridge.
" So he is," replied Mark, " but be thought he
would spend Thanksgiving week at home."
" Sydney is alinost through college, isn't he,
Mark?" inquired Mrs. Walbridge.
"He has only one more year to stay, and he
then intends coming home and studying divinity
with his father."
" So I viai/ have a minister for a brother in-
law," said Jane.
"And / may have a merchant for one," said
Ann.
It was now Jane's turn to blush, there having
been some " love passages " between her and a
young merchant of Boston, by the name of
Dan bury.
" Don't you want some oven-wood "?" asked
Mark, having finished cutting the pumpkin.
" No, not to day," said Mrs. Walbridge. " All
we calculate on doing to-day is to stew and sift
the pumpkin, prepare the minced meat for the
pies, and such kind of chores. To-morrow
morning, we shall begin to bake, bright and
early."
"And wont yon bake me a pie-crust bird?"
said little Ella, who, with her brother Charley,
had just come in from the barn, where they had
been hunting hens' nest.
" And me a pie-crust horse V said Charley.
" I declare, I am afraid Charley, if he lives,
will be a horse-jocky," said Mrs. Walbridge.
" His mind is always running upon horses."
" So was mine, when I was of his age," said
Esquire Walbridge, who, at this moment, entered
the kitchen. " And to confess the truth, I've al-
ways had a liking for a good horse. I talk of
riding over to Smith's Corner, mother. Don't
you want to send for some little knick-knacks
for Thanksgiving?"
" Well, I don't know — we are pretty w^ell pro-
vided for, I believe, but you may get a few nut-
megs and cloves, if you have a mind to."
" We ought, to have a dozen pounds of nice
raisin? ," said Jane. " Those we have in the
house aint first rate."
"Is th .t all?" said the 'Squire. " Why, I
expected yon would want a whole wagon load
of one thing and another."
" La, we can't eat everything," said Mrs.
Walbridge. " Our store room is full of flour,
rice, sugar, coffee and tea, to say nothing of
such articles as are raised on the farm."
" I am glad we arc so well provided for," said
he, " and it reminds me of those who are not so
well off. Hadn't I better take along some arti-
cles in my wagon, to help a few poor families to
keep Thanksgiving?"
" Yes, you had certainly. I am glad you
thought of it. Wait a few minutes, and I will
put up a lot of flour and sugar and other neces-
saries for Mr. Green's family and a few others.
He has been sick all the fall, and finds it hard
getting along."
" If I see anybody while I am gone tiiat I take
a fancy lo invite lo dine with us Thanksgiving
day, I shall," said he, taking up a basket she
had been packing in one hand, and a pretty
large bag of fionr in the other.
" Do, do," said his wife, "for the girls and I
have been reckoning up how many we expect,
and if they all come, there will only be thirty,
including our own family."
"That aint enough for people that have as
much house room as we have. I'll try and hunt
up a few more," said the 'Squire.
*' Perhaps," said Mr.s. Walbridge, " Sydney
Philips would come, if you invited him. Jlu is
ut home, Mark says."
" No, no, it wont do to break in upon a family
circle in that way. If we invite Sydney, we
must invite Mr. Philips and liis wife too."
"Well, father, supposing we ahould invite
them," said Mri. Walbridge. "I think they
would like to come, and I ani sure that we
should all be glad to have them."
" There was a young gentleman cume home
with Sydney," said Charley. " I was down by
Mr. Philijjs's, and saw them both when they got
out of the stage."
" How did he look ?" inquired Ann.
" 0, lie was dressed up as grand as could be."
"Did he look as well as Sydney?" asked
Rebecca.
" Yes, I guess he did. His eyes were as black
and bright us our Mark's."
" Well," said Esquire Walbridge, " if they
liave a visitor, he must be included in the invi-
tation."
"To be sure he must," was the reply of bis
wife.
CHAPTER IL
" It begins to snow — it begins to snow !" ex-
claimed Cliarley, as he came into the back door,
with a basket of chips in his hand, Wednesday
morning; and he fairly danced for joy — an exer-
cise in which little Ella joined with a hearty-
good will.
A few large flakes of snow had, indeed, begun
to fall, which gradually growing smaller and
thicker, promised to fulfil the prophecy of those
who had foretold a snow-storm. A short snow-
storm would be most welcome ; but should it
prove to be a long one — ah, there was the rub 1
The snow continued to fall during the day,
and many a pair of bright eyes looked forth into
the murky air the last thing before retiring for
the night ; while Charley Walbridge went to bed
with a full determination to rise every half hour,
to watch the progress of the storm, having sol-
emnly promised Ella — the door of her bed-room
being left ajar for the purpose — that he would,
each time, inform her of the result of his obser-
vations. Unfortunately, he had but one nap,
and that lasted till after sunrise the following
morning,
" The storm is over, Ella," said he, having
drestcd himself in great haste.
" Over so soon ?" said she, rubbing her eyes.
" Wh}"^, it isn't half an hour yet, since we went
to bed — is it ?"
" Only think of the sound steep of childhood,"
said Mrs. Walbridge, who had overheard what
was said by the children.
" Yes," replied her husband, " but labor will
produce sound sleep, too, as I have proved dur-
ing a life of fifty years. Well, girls," said he,
to his three eldest daughters, who now made
their appearance, " the double sleigh and span
of grays will have to be brought into service to-
day. I guess there are six inches of good solid
snow, and as smooth as the house floor."
The religious services were to commence at
eleven, and it mast be confessed that the girls
felt no little pleasure in having so good an op-
portunity to display their winter bonnets, and
other such tasteful paraphernalia as had been
prepared for flie occasion. There was a fine
show of waving plumes and fluttering ribbons,
and the faces that looked out from the tasteful
bonnets were fresh and fair as June roses spark-
ling with dew. Even Mrs. Walbridge did not
form an exception. At forty-five, bright chest-
nut hair, curled according to the approved
fashion of earlier days, formed a rich shade
round a countenance lit up by dark, beaming
eyes, and bright with the roseate hues of healih.
Rebecca, however, was the most beautiful of
tiiem all. There was a charming abandon in
all her movements and attitudes, which, without
the least consciousness on her part, gave to her
appearance a grace and elegance pei'fecily
inimitable.
When the double sleigh, drawn by the spirited
horses — which sported iheir long strings of silver-
toned bells, as proudly as a lady would her dia-
mond necklace — dashed up "to the church door,
Sydney Philips and a young man, who was a
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
347
stranger, stood in the porch. He %vas a fellow
student, hy name, Robert Vinton, and ihe same
who had accompanied him home.
" By the red Up of Hebe, that is a fine-looking
girl, Sydney," said he, as Rebecca Walbridge
sprang lightly from the sleigh.
" Yes, they arc all three of them fine-looking
girls," was Sydney's reply, as he sought to
catch the eye of Ann.
Esquire Walbridge, who now entered the
porch, shook hands very cordially with his
young friend Sydney, who introduced Vinton to
him. The 'squire took the opportunity to invite
them to dine at his hou^e, an invitation which
was gladly accepted.
Mark Thornton, who stood near, without be-
ing able to assign a reason satisfactory to him-
self, did not feel pleased with young Vinton's
appearance. He was certainly what most people
would call handsome ; his eyes, in a particular
manner, as little Charley Walbridge had de-
scribed them, were very bright — as bright as
Mark's— but, at times, they shot forth a fiery,
gleaming light, very different from the clear, lus-
trous beams which gave life and animation to
the bronzed countenance of Thornton.
The Widow Page who, with her daughter,
had, according to arrangement, received an early
invitation to dine at the 'squire's, came at nine
o'clock in the morning, so that neither Mrs.
Walbridge nor one of her daughters would be
obliged to stay from chm-ch to prepare dinner.
When, therefore, the family returned, accompa-
nied by their two married sons and their families,
the pastor and his wife, together with Sydney
and young Vinton, everything was ready to
place upon the table. The parents of Esquire
Walbridge, also Uncle David and his family
from Newburyport, had already arrived, much
to the delight of the Walbridges, who were
afraid they would not come.
Dinner was soon announced, and while Mr-
Philips, a gentleman with a mild and benign
countenance, said grace, each one present stood
with reverent air and downcast eyes. The bless-
ing was rather long — at least, so thought those
whose appetites were peculiarly keen — but all
agreed that it was very good, and very appro-
priate. It is true that, under diiferent circum-
stances, it might have passed for a prayer, and
been thought rather long at that ; but the good
pastor, in the benevolence of his lieart, could
not think of passing over any one present with-
out a kindly mention, and he was prompted by
similar benevolent emotions to remember the
poor and destitute of his own country, and the
perishing heathen of distant lands.
When ample justice had been done to the feast
of good things set before them, tlie younger por-
tion of the company were soon assembled round
a good fire in a large room by themselves, leav-
ing their seniors in possession of the parlor to
discuss themes of grave and weighty import,
among which politics bore a prominent part.
Mark Thornton mingled with the young people
on terms of perfect equality. Even Esquire
Walbridge and his wife did not consider it amiss
for him to be admitted to the social circle of
which their daughters formed a part, but for him
to marry one of them was not to be thought of.
Young Vinton began, at once, to be most as-
siduous in his attentions to the beautiful Rebecca.
Judging from the manner with which she re-
ceived them, however, she did not imagine he
was conferring on her any particular honor. In-
stead of this, she evidently felt annoyed by them.
Mark Thornton watched him closely, and, as it
must be confessed, with a slight feeling of jeal-
ousy. Not that he distrusted Rebecca, but be-
cause he felt that Vinton was not worthy to be
admitted to her companionship, even for an
hour. Vinton, when he saw how closely he ob-
served him, felt vexed and irritated, and in a
voice loud enough to be heard by all present,
asked Sydney Philips who that clown was, who
was admitted into the society of ladies and gen-
tlemen. Sydney reddened with shame at the
rudeness of one he had introduced as his friend,
and replied in a low voice :
"We have no clowns in Westbrook," said be.
" With us, a tiller of the soil is accounted hon-
orable."
" Honorable or dishonorable," said Vinton,
" I shall not associate on terms of equality with
that fellow."
Mark Thornton heard the remark, hut would
not disturb the company by appearing to notice
it. Vinton found he had gone too far, and had
he seen the look of disdain ^hich Rebecca Wal-
bridge cast upon him, his vanity would not have
been greatly flattered. But she, as well as the
rest, seemed determined to forget Vinton's rude-
ness. Everything, to appearance, went on pleas-
antly, except that Vinton persisted in being ob-
trusively attentive to Rebecca.
CHAPTER HI.
After the company had gone, and Rebecca
Walbridge had retired to her own room, she
missed a small, plain gold locket. It was one
that Mark had given her, and the only present
he ever made her. As, at the same lime, he
presented some trifles to each of the sisters, the
family did not consider it as a lovetoken. Nei-
ther did she, at the time, think of it In that light ;
but latterly there had been cause for her to sus-
pect that the presents to her sisters had been
made to prevent her from refusing the locket.
Though, at the time, she would have thought
him too presuming, since then, her appreciation
of his character, and with it, her feelings with
regard to him, in every respect, bad undergone a
great change. This little ornament, then, thougli
of not much intrinsic value, was held in higher
estimation than those liandsomer and costlier,
and when she found that it was gone, she went
below to search for it. She found the piece of rib-
bon to which it had been appended, but the locket
was gone. She consoled herself with the hope
that by daylight she should be more successful.
It so happened that it was necessary for Mark
Thornton to call at BIr. Philips's on the evening
of the following day. lie was received very po-
litely by Mr. and Mrs. Philips, also by Sydney;
but Vinton, who was present, did not deign to
recognize him.
At the time Mark entered, the two young men
were sitting some little distance from the fire, at
a table covered with bocks and papers. A chair
had been placed for Mark, nearly opposite the
table. All at once, his attention was attracted
by something which Vinton was turning over in
his hands in rather a careless manner. The hot
blood mounted to Mark's brow, for he instantly
knew it to be the locket, which about a year pre-
vious he gave to Rebecca Walbridge. He had,
with secret pleasure, noticed that she wore it
Thanksgi\'ing day, and it was no wonder that a
quick pang of jealousy thrilled his bosom, at
seeing it in the possession of Vinton.
" What have you there, Vinton V said Syd-
ney, whose eye chanced to rest on the locket.
" Nothing but a little keepsake."
" Given you by your sister, I suppose."
Vinton shook his head and smiled.
" Who; then V
"By a youHg lady, and a very beautiful one,
too."
" Is her name a secret ?"
" By no means. Here it is, inscribed on the
back of the locket."
As he spoke, he handed the locket to Sydney,
who, with a surprise he could not conceal, read
the name of Rebecca Walbridge.
" Is this possible, and on so short an acquaint-
ance "?"
" I think that the loeket will speak for itself,"
said Vinton, casting a furtive glance towards
Mark.
" I could not have thought it," said Sydney.
"I had some difficuliy in persuading Ann to ac-
cept a trifling present, and I am sure that Re-
becca has always appeared to be quite as much
reserved ia such matters as Ann."
" Rebecca Walbridge is a splendid girl — that's
a fact," said Vinton. "I could not have be-
lieved that Westbrook afforded one so beautiful,
and I consider myself a lucky dog in coming
acro^is her."
This conversation had been carried on in an
under tone on the part of Sydney, for he did not
wish either his parents or Mark Thornton to
hear what was said. Vinton, on the contrary,
had taken no pains to suppress his voice, having
exhibited the locket for the express purpose of
exciting Mark's jealousy. Sydney, who by no
means felt pleased that a sister of Ann should
bestow on an acquaintance of a few hours, a
trinket intended, as Vinton said, for a keepsake,
became grave and silent.
It was with a strong effort that Mark Thorn-
ton maintained an appearance of composure,
and as soon as he possibly could, he took leave.
"When he returned home, it was ob.:erved by the
whole family that his spirits were much depress-
ed, while towards Rebecca, his demeanor was
singularly cold and distant. For this she was
totally at a loss how to account. She had not
mentioned the loss of tlie locket to any one,
thinking she should yet come across it. Several
days passed away, during which time Mark and
Rebecca had scarcely spoken to each other. At
last, one evening he entered the kitchen whex'e
she was engaged in the performance of some
household duty, no other person being present.
"Rebecca," said he, "I am glad to find you
alone, for I have something I wish to say to you."
" And I," said Rebecca, " have something I
wish to say to you."
" What is it?"
" Tell me first what you have to say to me."
" I wish to speak a few words about a locket I
once gave you."
" Which is precisely what I wish to speak to
you about."
" It was a trifle, I know — not worthy your ac-
ceptance; yet I could not have believed you
would give it to Vinton."
"Give it to Vinton !" she repeated. "Who
says I gave it to him'?"
" He himself says so."
" Then he says what is false."
"If you did not give it to him, how came he
by if?"
" Is it possible that he has it V
"It is — I saw him with it, and I heard him
tell Sydney Philips that you gave it to him."
" I lost it, and he, I suppose, must have found
it ; but why he kept it, I cannot imagine."
" For the purpose, no doubt, of using it in the
way he has, in order to excite my jealousy, and
I am sorry to say that he succeeded. I might
have known that you did not give it to him."
" Yes, I think you might. . Now that all is ex-
plained, I wish he would just return the locket."
" I hope, after what has taken place, that you
would not wear it, if he did."
" No, but I don't wish him to have it."
" He wont have it long."
" I beg that you wont say anything to him
about it."
" I may, and I may not," was Mark's reply,
as he turned to leave the room.
The very next day, Mark and Vinton happen-
ed to meet. It was a retired place, and no other
person was in sight. Vinton was passing on
without turning his head,, when Mark abruptly
accosted him.
" Miss Walbridge," said he, "would like to
have that locket returned which you took
Thanksgiving day evening ; and as I am going
directly home, I will, if you please, take it."
" Upon my word," said Vinton, " you are ex-
ceedingly accommodating, and excessively im-
pudent. In the first place, you will please make
it appear that I took the locket ; in the next, that
the lady wishes me to return it."
" As she asserts that she never gave it to you,
the presumption is strong that you took it, and
that without leave. She also asserts that it is
her wish that it be returned."
" And has, I suppose, commissioned you to be
her Mercury. Upon my word, she shows both
taste and discretion in selecting a person, who is
capable of managing an afi'air of the kmd with
so much delicacy and tact."
" I may have little claim to either — though
quite as much, I should imagine, as he who pre-
sumes to surreptitiously possess himself of an
oi-nament belonging to a lady, when he had
every reason to believe that, had she known it,
it would have been contrary to her wishes. But
it is of no use for us to stand here, bandying
words. The locket I am determined to have."
" You are."
"lam. If you refuse to surrender it, the
whole transaction shall he made public, which
will, I apprehend, be little to your credit."
"Make it public, if you please. I am not to
be frightened into giving it up."
" Very well," said Mark, turning on bis heel.
" Stay — take the bauble," said Vinton. " It
is not of the least value to me, in any sense
whatever. I certainly, at first, thought Miss
Walbridge quite passable for a country girl, but
her choice of a confidant, by exposing the coarse-
ness of her mind, destroys the illusion of her
beauty, and when you give her the locket, I will
thank jou to tell her so."
" If I should tell her," said Mark, as he receiv-
ed the locket from the hand of Vinton, "you
may be assured that it will not cause her a mo-
ment's uneasiness."
half a mile from the residence of Esquire Wal-
bridge. It belonged to our old friend, Mark
Thornton, who, in virtue of having been appoint-
ed a justice of the peace, had now the prefix of
esquire to Ids name.
There were, probably, no persons ia West-
brook so much surprised as Esquire Walbridge
and his wife when they found that Mark, their
hired man, was able to purchase a fifty acre
farm, and build thereon a handsome and cooi-
modious house, together with a barn and other
suitable buildings.
" How he has contrived to gatlier so much to-
gether, and hire out by the month or year all the
time, is to me a mystery," was the remark of
Mrs. Walbridge.
But there was, in truth, no mystery about it.
Ever after he was sixteen, Mark Thornton was
obliged to look out for himself. He, at once,
commanded a man's wages, and although he
aiforded himself time to acquire a good educa-
tion, and always dressed quite as well, or rather
better than the young men of his age and class,
there was not a year that he did not save a hun-
dred dollars or more, which he could always
safely invest. Thus, when he was twenty-eight
years old, he ventured to ask Esquire Walbridge
for the hand of his daughter, and was not denied.
As has already been mentioned, it was
Thanksgiving day, and the Walbridge family,
also Mr. and Mrs. Philips and Sydney, were go-
ing to dine at Esquire Thornton's. After din-
ner, they were all to proceed to the family man-
sion, where, in the evening there was to be a
wedding. Mr. Danbury, the young Boston mer-
chant, and the fair Jane Walbridge, were the
couple who were going to be married. A large
number of guests, most of them being relations,
were invited to witness the ceremony.
It was whispered that the next Thanksgiving
evening, Sydney Philips and Ann Walbridge
would be married. They were certainly en-
gaged—everybody knew that; but when some
one present mentioned the subject to Mrs. Wal-
bridge, she gave it as her opinion, that it would
be two years before they would be married, and
she, for one, thought it would be best for them
to wait.
" Sydney, by that time," she said, " expected
to have a chance to settle down, and he would
then have the means to maintain a family."
In less than ten years after Mark Thornton
was married to the lovely Rebecca Walbridge,
he was the wealthiest and most influential citizen
of Westbrook. He was, at the age of forty, ap-
pointed judge, and what may seem somewhat
singular, was called upon in that capacity to pro-
nounce sentence upon a culprit for petty larceny,
whose bloated countenance, the result of intem-
perance, would have prevented him from recog-
nizing him, had he not been told that his name
was Robert Vinton.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DEATH OF HON. JDAKIEJL M'EIJSTER.
BY CAROLINE A. HAYDEN.
Ay, leave him alone in his dreamless sleep,
The contiicfc is over, the victory won ;
lie has reached the proud summit of glory's steep,
lie would rest from his labor, ay let him sleep on.
Well may ye gather, with solemn tread,
Round the grave of America's favorite son ;
Well may the tears of a nation be shed,
When it mourns for so mighty au intellect gone.
They are passing away ! they are passing away !
The great and the good who have won a proud name ;
Cut never a nobler or brighter i-ay
lias circled round one on the annals of fame,
As a patriot, a statesman, a scholar, a man,
i'OT a truer or better, go search the wide earth ;
As a husband, a father, a neighbor and friend,
Let the grief which surrounds him attest to his worth.
Ye have pillowed his head in a chosen spot,
Mid the scenes which, in hfe, he loved the best;
Surrounded by those who have shared his lot.
And a monarch might envy liis peaceful rest.
Then leave him alone in his lowly bed.
Long iigcs to come shall re-echo his name ;
And the tears which a grateful nation have shed,
Like a h:ilo shall circle his well earned fame.
It was the third anniversary from the Thanks-
giving, of which mention has been made in the
preceding chapters. The usual preparations for
its celebration had been made by the good people
of Westbrook, but none equalUd those which
had been accomplished by the aid, and under
the superintendence of the mistress of a hand-
some white house, newly built, situated about
"I have found a good in everytliing I have
learned. By degrees your destiny will open be-
fore you. You will learn what you are good for
— what you are made for. I can say nothing
more definite, and this is definite enough, and
full of animation. Do your duty, and you can-
not fail to fit yourself for an honorable woik."
No counsel frcm our crut-l wills can win us.
But ills once done, we bear our guilt within u?.
John FunCs Loce^s Saaifice.
348
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANIOX.
JOHN MAZEPPA.
John Mazeppa was
born in Podolia, a pro-
vince in the sovUiioaHt-
crn part of rdand.
He Rccms to have been
descended from one of
the many noble fami-
lies which had fallen
from their ancient
wealth and conse-
quence, by the hitc
misfortunes of ihcir
country. Being of
necessity obliged to
seek employment in
some one of the more
wealthy families, he
became page to one
John Casimir. Casi-
mir was fond of the
arts and literature ;
and in his family the
young Mazeppa seems
to have had and im-
proved an opportunity
for acquiring many
usef u 1 accomplish-
ments, whit'h after-
ward became of signnl
service to him. His
conduct towards the
Countess Palatine ex-
cited the count's jeal-
ousy. There was no
doubt of his guilt, and
the count bound him,
naked, in revenge, up-
on a wild horse, and
committed him to his
fate. The horse was
from the Ukraine, an
extensive country in
the south-eastern i>art
of Russian Poland,
and he directed his
course thither. Ma-
zeppa was found by
some poor peasants,
half dead, and they
took care of him. He
remained there a long
time, became distin-
guished for bis dex-
lerity, bodily strength,
and courage, so much
so that be was suc-
cessively chosen sec-
i"etary and adju ant to
the Hettman Samoil-
owirz ; and finally, in
1687, he succeeded
Samoilowitz in the
office of Hettman or
chief general of the
Cossack's. He gained
the confidence of Peter
the Great of Russia,
and received from him
many honorable testi-
monials of distinction.
Peter finally made
him prince of the Uk-
raine. One day, while
at the tablewith Peter,
at Moscow, the czar
expressed to him a
desire ihat he would
so discipline the Cos-
sacks fts to make them
more dependent upon
his will. Mazeppa re-
plied that the situa-
tion of the Ukraine
and the genius of that
people were insur-
mountable obstacles
to it. The czar, who
was somewhat heated
with wine, called him
a traitor, and threat-
en*^d to impale him.
Unwilling to be in
subordination, and in-
dignant perhaps at
such treatment, he de-
termined to free him-
self from the Russian
power. He join-^d
Charles the Twelfth
of Sweden, who had
just set a king over
Poland. With Charles's assistance he hoped to
withdraw himself from his allegiance to Peter
the Great, and, under certain conditions, unite
his country, the Ukraine, to Poland. Peter wa^
at first unwilling to believe that Mazeppa could
havit such plans in view. He sent the accusers
to Mazeppahimself for punishment, and he had
the audacity to cause them to be executed.
Peter, however, soon became convinced of the
trurh of the charge*!, and many of Mazeppa's
partisans were put to death, and the prince him-
self hung in effigy. With a few adherents he
joined Charles the Twelfth, and took part in the
campaign of the Ukraine which followed. He
was with Charles at his defeat at Pultowa. It
is on their retiring from this battle that Byron
has introduced him in his poem called " Mazep-
pa," where he gives a thrilling account of the
sufferings, both physical and mental, which he
underwent while bound to the wild horse, wh'n
the ravenous wolves pursued him all night.
After the defeat at Pultowa, Mazeppa fled to
Bender, a fortified town of Russia, near the
Black Sea, where he died 1769. — BfdUc.
THE REFUGE AT THE ALTAR.
[From a picture by Daerge, Berlin.]
THE SANCTUARY WON.
BY MUS. t. k. hervey.
On, on ! The spoiler through our land
Hath tracked us from afar ;
How shall our woman's strength withstand
This bitter curse of war?
Where can we turn, or whither flee,
When blood is poured like wine?
Since ruthless man our foe must he,
What help, O God ! but thine ?
Thy Temple, Lord, at last is won.
Behold the gift I bring —
My firstborn babe — my darling one,
My soul's most precious thing !
The tumult's rnge hath seared my boy;
His sweet eyes wandered wild
When in my face he missed the joy
That kept him still a child.
Ransomed by love, he standeth free
Upon Thine altar-stone;
But 0, the voice he lifts to Thee
Hath caiight the flngfel's tbhe !
Girt by Thy sanctuary's light.
Strange peace his soul doth thrill —
Guide Thou the tender foot aright
That Icapcth at Thy will !
O, lead him still each deed to shun
That wears a gilded name ;
Teach him to do Thy work, or none.
In til is red world of shame !
Far better at my feet he fell
A slaughtered lamb this day,
Than live the pomp of war to swell,
And midst its riot say : —
"For this my mother's soul grew strong
When red the rivers ran ;
She bore me through that battle's throng
To lead this battle's van !"
Away, away ! such fears are \'ain ;
Pure on God's shrine he lies :
Where love is peace, and guilt is pain.
Each cruel instinct dies
Heaven set ihe thorns around his brow
To point a refuge near;
Not Death itself can barm him now —
Tlie swbrd is broken heuk !
FALSE PEARLS.
A costly description
of glass beads, made
m imitation of pearls,
h IS loni:; been pro-
duced in France; al-
though the name of
the inventor has been
7 reserved, the period
of the invention U not
frccisely known, It
4 supposed to have
1 en about 1050. The
in inner of their inven-
ti n was this : M. Ja-
)uin having observed
th It upon washine: a
bmall fish, tliery/jr/HHs
II nrnun, or bleak, the
water contained nu-
I icrous fine particles,
I u-ing the color of
liver, and a pearly
1 istre, he tuffered the
Iter to stand some
time, and collecting
the sediment, covered
with it some beads
made of plaster of
Paris, the favorable
appearance of which
mduced him to manu-
facture more of the
same kind for sale.
They were at first
eagerly adopted ; but
the ladies soon finding
that when they were
exposed to heaf, the
lustrous coaling trans-
ferred itself from the
beads to their skin,
they were as quickly
di carded. The ntxt
attempt of M. Jaquin
was more successful .
He procured some
glass tubes of a quali-
ty easily fusible, and
bv means of a blow
p ps converted the^e
mro numerous hollow
globules. He then
proceeded to line the
interior suiface of
these with the pow-
dered fish scales,which
he cilled the essence
ol pearl, or essence d'~
0 lent. This was ren-
dered adhesive by be-
ing mixed with a so-
lution of isinglass,
when it was introduc-
ed in a heated state
mbide the globules,
in 1 spread over the
whole interior surface,
>} shaking the beads,
w hich, for that pur-
1 0 e, were placed in a
I owl upon the table.
These hollow beads
King blown exceed-
ingly thin, in order to
produce a be'.ter ef-
fect, were conscquent-
h very tender. To
itmedy this evil, as
oon as the pearly var-
ni h was sufficiently
lr\, they were filled
w th white wax, and
1 cmg then bored
tl lough with a need 'c,
weie threaded for sale.
An expert workman
( m blow from five to
i\ thousand small
[.liss globules in a
lav ; but as some at-
tention is called for in
re gard to the s hape
and appearance of
these bead^, the pro-
duce of a man's daily
labor will not much
exceed one fourth of
that quantity. The
closer to counterfeit
nature in their manu-
facture, these beads
are sometimes purposely made with blemishes,
and of somewhat irregular forms. Some are
■pear shaped ; others are elongated like olives,
and others again are flattened, on one side, iu
imitation of natural pearls, which are set in a
manner to show only one side. The fish whose
scales are put to this use are about four inches
in length. They are found in great abundance
in some rivers; and being excecdi-i<rly vora-
cious, suffer themselves to be taken without dif-
ficulty. The scales furnished bv two hundred
and fifty of these fish will not weigh more than
an ounce, and this will not yield more than a
fourth of that quantity of the pearly ])owdcr ap-
plicable to the pieparation of beads ; so that six-
teen thousand fishes are required in order to ob-
tain one pound of \.\\Q essence of pearl. Up to a
recent period ihe heirs of Jaquin carried on a
considerable manufactory of these mock pearls,
in I*aris. The fish are tolerably abundant in
the river Seine ; but their scales are conveyed
from distant parts in much larger quantities than
ciin be procured on the spot, for which purpose
they arc preserved in volatile alkali.^ — Am. Slay.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
349
0^^^^^
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATUIIIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEIVTS OF OUR NEXT AU.IIKER,
" The Crossed Dollar, or. The Country Dealer and his
Clerk," by Sylvakus Oobb, Jr.
"The Way to H'ashington," a descriptiye sketch, by
Ben: Perley Poore.
" Travels in Palestine,'* No. XV, relating to Damascus,
by Rev. F. \V. Holland.
" Turkey and the Turks,"' No. XIIT, relating to cus-
toms in Constantinople, by Dr. Jerome V. C- Smith.
'■ The Blind Child," verses, by Mrs. It. T. Eldredge.
"Song to Night," by George \V. Dewet.
" The Cottage by the Sea, ' lines, by E. Cortiss Hike,
U. S. N.
" Woman," verses, by T. Bcchanax Read.
"The Happiest Home," poem, by Owen G. Warren.
" The Evening Cross,'" lines, by CAROLI^E A. Havden.
"Faith in Death," Terse.«, by W. A. Fogg.
" Still 1 Live," poem, by Joseph K. Butlee.
ILLUSTBATIONS.
We shall give our readerg two admirable likenesses, one
of Gen. b'rank Pierce, the President eltct, the other of
Hon. William R. King, the Vice President elect. By our
artist, Mr, liotcse.
A series of pictures illuf trating the Hunting season ; —
firdt, the Kennel, a spirited and characteristic picture ;
second, the Dog Yard; third the Keeper's House, called
the "MV'alk-outi" fourih, a picture entitled " Drawing in
to Feed ," lifth, a htter of Huntiug Pups , and sixth, tbe
Feeding of the pack. All illustrating tne economy of the
kennel.
A fine large picture, by our artist, Mr. Deverevx, repre-
Eentiug Third Street, Philadelphia, showing tne Ledger
and Jayne's Buildings. A capital engraving.
An engraving, by our artist, Mr. Chopin^ representing
the supeib Service of Silver Plate, manufactured by Ball,
Blake & Co., Broadwaj-, New York, and presented to tde
publisher of the Pictoiial, by the artists of the United
States, as a token of legard lor his services in the cultiva-
tion of a love for art in this country, through the illum-
ined pLiges ol the Urawing-Koom Companion. The Plate
coiisi&tii of eight richly wrought pieces, and cost over one
thousand dollars.
A large and interesting picture, representing the famous
monumental Fountain, at Nimes, France.
A fine picture of a Turkish Gentleman, illustrating the
series of sketches now pubhr>hing in our columns from the
pen of Dr. Jerome V. U. fimilh. Drawn by our artist, Mr.
planning.
Also, a characteristic picture, illustrating the same sub-
ject, called an irabat, or i'nrSish ladies' carriage. By our
artist, Mr. Manning.
OUR CONTEiSTS.
In these times, when every valuable and origi-
nal enterprise is sure to find a plenty of counter-
feiters and sickly imitators, the public should be
on its guard when and to whom it gives its pa-
tronage. Without reflecting personally upon
any others, let us call the attention of our read-
ers to the contents of the Pictorial. It is always
original ; and we also refer them to the names of
our contributors for a guarantee of the character
which our paper sustains for literary merit. The
numerous, expensive and beautiful embellish-
ments which we give every week, are fully equal-
led in excellence by the letter-press of the paper.
Our aim is upward and onward !
Paul Juhen. — This little musical prodigy,
attached to Sontag's troupe, recalls the days
when Master Burke made his debut at the Tre-
mont Theatre. Paul, though young, has already
tested the severity of a chequered life. His pa-
rents were very poor, and are supported solely
by the genius of their child.
SPLINTERS.
Ontheoccasionof a fete in Paris, SI 0,000
are sometimes expended for flowers alone.
.... Sontag will appear in opera at New York
before the close of the coming winter season.
.... We boast in this country about eleven
hundred chartered banks. Enough surely.
There is said to be fifty millions of
genuine champagne manufactured annually.
.... It is currently reported that our govern-
ment has again offered SSO,000,000 for Cuba.
.... Rely upon it that self-conceit is all that
ever renders a man obstinate or wilful.
.... It sounds odd to say so, but it is a fact
that the Bible is a rare book throughout France.
.... So far this year seventy vessels have
cleared from this port direct for California.
.... The earth is one third nearer the sun in
winter than it is in summer.
.... There are now in the Island of Cuba
some 20,000 Spanish troops, and more coming.
.... The Boston Museum conrinues steadily
successful. Everything is in liberal taste.
.... Paris produces annually S2,000,000 worth
of perfumery, and the same amount in pianos.
BOSTON,
Portrait painters tell us that it is extremely
difficult to get accurate likenesses of faces with
which they are perfectly familiar ; use begets an
indifference to the striking characteristics of a
face, and they lose the faculty of separating
what is essential from what is trivial and acci-
dental, and thus produce unsatisfactory perform-
ances. So habit renders a man indifferent to
the beauty of a woman with whom he is con-
stantly associated, and a beautiful woman to the
manifest ugliness of the man to whom she is
linked in matrimony. As in painting, so in
writing, your author cannot describe a scene with
which he is perfectly familiar ; you must absent
yourself from it, and contemplate it through the
medium of the memory, if you would perceive
its true character and artistic features.
Thus, if we wish to appreciate a familiar resi-
dence— take Boston for an example — we must
come back to it fresh from some sojourn in a
distant city, before we can note down accurately
the peculiarities of its features. Coming from
New York, in so many respects its antipodes,
you are struck, first, with its comparative cleanli-
ness. Its streets, however narrow, compared
with the vast avenues of the Empire City — ave-
nues in their amplitude — yet none too large for
the increasing population. Here in Boston, the
leaven of their ancestors is stamped even on the
faces of the hack and cab drivers, whom you en-
counter as you arrive at the railway depot.
There is energy and activity in their manner of
soliciting patronage, but it is accompanied with
civility and self-respect.
As yon go to your hotel, the clean swept
streets, the uniform neatness and comfort of the
dwelling-houses, the orderly and intelligent air
of the inhabitants, strike you most impressively.
No where else do you meet with such a suc-
cession of logical faces, and they are historical,
too. You can trace the Puritan leaven in the
somewhat stern features and determined glances
of the men — a type softened in the fair but self-
possessed faces of the women. Boston is the
city of law and order, par excellence. Even the
Uevolution was a triumph of such. True our
city has been disgraced by riots, like all great
cities, but by no long continued or bloody ones.
There have been broken heads, in certain street
emeiUes, but no riotous assemblages since the
adoption of the federal constitution, that a
charge of cavalry, or the appearance of a light
infantry company could not instantly disperse.
Boston to our mind is a model city, and,
prejudices aside, we can see many and important
advantages that it possesses over many of its
contemporaries. Not that we would disparage
any of them — far be such an effort from us — for
we have enjoyed the kind hospitality and gener-
ous unselfishness as exhibited in the friendship of
New Yorkers, Philadelphians, Baltimoreans, and
in short, of two-thirds of the cities of our happy
Union, and our heart is full of good feeling to-
wards them all.
PERSONAL.
We were honored by a call from Mr. Thack-
eray, a few days since. A brief interchange of
greetings gave us a highly favorable idea of him
as a polished gentleman. Mr. Thackeray in per-
son is tall and well developed, with a kindly and
genial expression of countenance, gray hair, and
a rich manly voice. His lectures will first be
delivered in New York, after which he will ap-
pear before a Boston audience. If he is as hap-
py in the lecture- room as with his pen, his suc-
cess is certain.
Gleason's Pictorial. — Tbis elegantly illustrated weekly
journal has won for itself a popularity which is surpassed
by no other publication of its cast in this country. Con-
sidered either with reference to neatness and clearness of
typography, to accuracy and beauty of embellishment, to
the beautiful in art, or its literary excellence, Gleason's
Pictorial Drawhig-Koom Companion cannot be eclipsed.
Its elaborately executed engravings, its varied and exten-
sive miscellany, its original tales, sketches and poems, in-
vested with much that is adapted to please the fancy, in-
struct and refine the mind ; and dive.'ited of all that might
bi3 calculated to warp the judgment or debase the pas-
sions, eminently commend it not only to the patronage of
the family circle in particular, but to every lover of polite
literature and artistic excellence throughout the land. —
hansingburgk Gazette.
Musical. — Sontag's concerts in Boston were
admirably managed, without any of the clap-trap
that attended Jenny Lind's debut here ; yet her
success was far more brilliant, and the impres-
sion she made will be vastly more enduring.
Pianist. — Was there ever a more magical
performer upon the pianoforte than Alfred Jaell ?
Wc pause for a reply.
LOCAL CHARACTERISTICS.
Puritan prejudices and bigotry, once so rife in
New England, have mostly flown away, and the
present generation is exercised by sound reason
as it regards amusements. Formed for enjoy-
ment, we find men seeking it. After the labor
of the day is over, and the toil of life is done,
they turn from business to find some source of
recreation, some avenue of life which is pregnant
with flowers, and which echoes with sweet music.
Theatres and concerts are liberally patronized,
the opera is no longer /atoDC(/, there are no enact-
ments against luxury of dress. Washington
street in a sunny day is as gay and sumptuous
as a Parisian boulevard; but there is a method
in our way of amusing ourselves quite distinct
from Prench or southern abandon. Our people
make a business of amusing themselves on holi-
days, and set about it with a grave intensity that
is quite amusing. There is never anything like
delirious excitement among us, even on the
fourth of July, with a rare exception, during po-
litical excitement, and politics ever seem to
change men's natures. But though Bostonians
are somewhat grave in comparison with others,
yet they nevertheless relish a bit of fun. They
are the Scotch of America. They possess a deal
of dry humor and dry wit, and some of the best
comic writers in America hail from the " city of
notions."
COiyiMONWE.ALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
BY HIS ESCELLEXCr,
GEORGE S. BOUTWELL,
Governor of the Commonweallk of Massachusetts.
A PROCLAMATION
FOR A DAT OF PUBLIC THANKSOIVIXG AND PRAISE.
Guided by the example of our ancestors and the spirit
of the Christian religion, it becomes the people of Massa-
chusetts to recognize a superintending Providence.
In the variety and wealth of the Harvest ;
In the development of Agricultural Science ;
In the elevation of the Mechanic Arts ;
In tbe prosperity of Manxifactures and Commerce ;
In the foundation and support of noble charities for the
Poor, the Ignorant, the Aiilicted ;
In the spirit of progress which animates all our Insti-
tutions of ijeamiog, of Liberty, of Iteligion ;
In relations of Peace and Harmony between the States
of the American Kepublic ;
And, tinally, in the benign influence of Christian prin-
ciples upon the social and political affairs of men.
1 do, therefore, by and with the advice and consent of
the Council, appoint Thursday, the twenty-filth of No-
vember next, Co be observed by the people of this Com-
monwealth, as a day uf public Thanksgiving and Praise, for
the numerous bieasmgs and bounties uf the closing j ear.
Given at the Council Chamber at Boston, this nineteenth
day of October, in the 3 ear of our Lord one thousand
eight hundred and (ift>-Lwo. and of the Independence
of the United States the seventy -seveutu-
GUIDKGB d. BOUT .VELL.
By His Excellency the Governor, with the advice of the
Council.
AsiABA Walker, Secretary.
GOD SAVE THE COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS!
CoxGKESSiONAL. — The new library is nearly
completed.
THANKSGIVING.
Our artist, Mr. Kilburn, has given us on page
345, an allegorical scene, representing the past
and present idea of a New England Thanksgiv-
ing. Liberty, Peace and Plenty, three patron
goddesses of our country, are prominent in the
scene. The centre of the picture represents a
family gathering, on this day of universal re-
unions, and a happy group has the artist suc-
ceeded in delineating. Below we have an idea
of the first commencement in Pilgrim times, of
this sacred institution, where our fathers are re-
presented as meeting in one of the rude struc-
tures of the period, and lifting their voices in de-
votional language to the Giver of all good gifts.
On either side of this scene is represented the
season when this celebration of Thanksgiving
occurs. The left foreground represents the log
cabin homes of the early settlers ; and on the
right is seen a representation of the landing of
the Pilgrims. Altogether a most happy and
seasonable picture for our readers.
" The Enchantress." — Madame Anna Thil-
lon, in this opera, at the Howard Athenjcum,
succeeded not only in enchanting Don Sylvio,
as she is expected to do in the play, but operated,
to the same effect, upon the crowded audiences
that greeted her performances.
"The Heroine of Tampico." — The con-
stant demand for this very popular Mexican
story has led us to publish a fresh edition of the
hook, and it may now be obtained at all of the
periodical depots, or at our office of publication.
Abbott Lawrence. — Our distinguished fel-
low-citizen and ex-minister to England, for ob-
vious reasons, has declined the honor of a public
dinner, lately tendered to him.
< ^■^ »
Rev. Thomas Starr King. — We hear this
gentleman's sermon on the death of Mr. Web-
ster, highly commended.
In this city, bv Rev. J. B. Waterbury, D, D., Mr. Ed-
win 0 Tufts to 5iis3 Ruth B. Foster.
By Rev. Mr. Blaikie, Mr. George L. Smith to Miss Isa-
bella G. Coggeswell.
By Rev. !flr. Skinner, Mr. H Sargent, of Boston, to Misa
Jane M Moody, of Portland.
By Kev. Mr- Stone, Mr. James Preble to Misa Mary E.
Josselyn, all of Boston.
By Kev. Dr. Vinton, Mr. Charles F. Fessenden to Misa
Mary F. Conant.
By Rev. Phineas Stow, Mr. Luther Jones to Miss Susan
Dun ton.
At Charlestown, by Rev. Dr. Caldicott, Mr. Asa P. Pol-
lard to Miss M.irtha F. Hall.
At Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Newell, Mr. George Shat-
tuck Shaw to Miss Georgiana Henshaw.
At South Reading, by Rev. Mr. Emerson, Mr. Thomas
Winship to Miss Maria Aborn.
At c-alem, by Rev. Dr. Flint, Mr. William H. Johnson
to Miss Caroline A. Millett.
At Danvers, by Kev. Mr. Appleton, Mr. Francis A.
Couch to Miss Caddie A. Porter.
At Marblehead, by Rev, Mr. Richmond, Mr. William
Hawked, 3d, to Miss Elizabeth H. Thompson.
At Lowell, by Kev. Mr. Brewster. Mr. Henry C. Cnrrier
to Miss Mary R. Hull.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Spalding, Mr. Horatio N.
Dennet to Miss Clara A. Pierce.
At New Bedlbrd, by Rev. Mr. McKown, Mr. John R.
Paige to Miss Juha A. Wilniarth.
At Providence, 11. I., by Rev. Mr. Stockbridge, Mr. H.
R. Wilbur, of Boston, to Miss Susan E. Knowles.
r<t^0r^-
In this city, Mr. Matthew D. Smith, 34 ; Mr. Edmund
Lewis. 61 ; Mrs. Rebecca M. Badger, 57 ; Miriam C. Lang-
don, 13; Itev. Francis Parkman, D. D.
At Charlestown, Mrs. Catherine Calitpell, 50.
At Koxburv, Mr. Ralph HiLckios, 73.
At Camhrijgeport, Mrs. Catherine E. Tufts, 25.
At Watertown, Mrs. Jane E. Holden, 45.
At Lynn, Miss Susan farrington, GO.
At Salem, Mrs. Sarah Hadlock, 26
At Marblehead, John G. Hooper E?q., 82.
At South Danvers. Mr Edward P. Bancroft, 21.
At Duxbury,Mr, George H. Winsor, 26.
At Gloucester, Mr. John M. Stanwood. 78.
At Kockport, Mrs. Sarah E. J. Sewall, 34.
At Newburyport, Mr. Smith Noyes, 53.
At fall River, Mrs. Agnes Braj ton, 55.
At Worcester, Mrs. Lucretia Goddard, 77.
At Fairhaven, Mrs Parcette Parker, 88.
At New Bedford, Mis. Anna M. Young, 25.
At Plainfield, Mr. A. C Shattuck, of Boston, 23.
At Provincetown, Mrs. Cynthia Sparks, 23.
At Millbrd, N. II., ^Vidow Simeon Albee, 77.
At Bristol, N. H., Mr. Francis Kidder, b8.
At Portland, Me., Mr. John H. Steele, 20.
At KirkUind, Me , Mrs. Mary Mann, 91.
At Gardiner, Me., Rufus Gay, Esq., 83.
At New Haven, Ct.. Miss Caroline A. Root. 23.
At Pomfret, Ct., Smith Wilkinson, Ksq., 72.
At Scoharie, N. Y., Mr Francis Becoft, 102.
At fuiks Island, Mr. Samuel Staples, 20.
At sea, Mr. Asa llodgmau, of Massachusetts.
AND
LITERARY AVEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
Dv'rtuntTg^U00tn »il0m^rtitt0tT,
A Heconi of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poeuis, by the
BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, ot
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely orisinal in its design, in this country. Its pages
contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken fi-om life, will also be
given, with numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, tlie birds of the air, and the fi.sh of the sea. It is
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty -four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations— a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim i.5 constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it allords, and tlio rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue hy hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for ita
combined excellencies.
TEEMS; $2 00 PEE VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM
INVARIABLY ly ADVANCE.
Each six months completes a volume, commencing on
the f-Fit of January and July ; thus making two volume^
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[Cr' One copy of the Flag of our Uxion, and one copy
of the Pictorial Drawinu-Room Compakion, one year,
for §5 00.
ICr' The Pictorlvl Drawing-Room Compaxiox may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots tiirougrtout the
coui'.try.and of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
Published every Saturday, by
P. GLEASON, EosTOX, Mass.
WHOLESALE AGENTF-
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New York.
A. WlWOH. 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
BURGESS, T.WLOIt & CO., Ill Baltimore St., Baltimore.
A. C BAGLEY, 118 Main Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. Fourth and Cheisnut, St. Louia.
[j;^ Subsrriptions received at eithtr of the abirt'e pUirex.
3r)0
GLEASON'S PICTOIILVL DllAWING llOOM COMrANION.
[Written for Gloiuioii'fl Pictorial.]
WHY SHOULD SPJKITS TALK IHTH 31I^N.'
DY MISa MARY N. DEAIlUOnN.
0 wliorcfoi'o finm " tho fiir-ollF Inna" do its ohildron now return,
And bciir to wondering niortiil uara tlio myflt<M'ioH thoy li);irn ?
Why do thoy leiivo tho bllH»l'iil courtH of that colestliti cllaio,
To travorsts Htill thu hibyrlntliH of miacry luid crimo?
Tleyond tho mount of Horrow, and over tlio viilo of sin,
Strange that they Rliould iihiino again tlio hrlghtly-foldcid wing ;
]h it to mark the shining ])tit.h, and bid uh hnt^tun there?
Is it to raise the droopiog ojo from scones of eiirthiy euro?
Shall mortals lift tho mystic Tell, and pass within tlio door,
To mingle with departed ones upon tho spirit shore?
In vain, in vain wo wonder, for who of mortal frame,
■\\'ould fltriigglo with the " sentry grim " tliid ancient clue to gain ?
Ah, we may over question, for little .shall we know
What lies beyond tho River, or where ite waters (low ;
But that there is a brighter home along that gem-cijid shore.
And mortals who ascend its bunks '-arc niorttils never more 1"
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. XIV.
BT HEV. P. W. HOLLAND.
DAMASCUS.
The neavev came the queen city, the larger were the clay-built
liouses and mud-wallcd gardens and orchards of every kind, and
the more enciianting the scene — until, after miles upon miles of
these beautiful environs, all of which bear the name of the city,
and thus reconcile some of the disputes about the sizo of ancient
towns, we reached, at length, the house of father Abraham's stew-
ard, and found ourselves the only occupants of its only hotel. A
palace of misery it proved to us in the rainy season of Eebruary,
for there was dampness within, and dampness without, and noth-
ing but dampness everywhere ; but in the sultry summer, its mar-
ble ])avement and playful fountains may seem a glimpse of
heaven, after the disgusting experience of Turkish inns and way-
side fastings through inhospitable Syria. Equally trustworthy
travellers have given the most opposite opinions of this celebrated
" Locanda," as it is named, Italian fashion, in Damascus ; and-we
may as well tell what it really is, because such houses are as
peculiar to this place as the coffeehouses and prairie-like gardens.
Nothing U to be seen from the street, still called " Strait" as in
St.. Paul's day, but a dead wall of stone, and a mean little gate.
The first com-t is always the servants', containing the kitchen,
store room, etc. Through this you pass into a spacious square
of different colored marbles, with a water tank and fountain in
the centre overhucg by vines and fruit trees, around which are the
principal apartments, seldom of more than one story but often
very lofty. The richest families have still another court inside of
this ; in the most palace-like of all, a wealthy banker's whom I
visited, with several fountains, and a principal saloon, whose fur-
niture cost at least five thousand dollars.
Tlic general arrangement of this "guest-chamber" is pretty
uniform ; a sunken part of the floor near the entrance is the place
of deposit for shoe-i and pattens. The rest of the room is covered
with Persian rugs, and has on three sides a raised platform on
which to recline. The lower part of the walls are of white, red,
or dark marble ; then comes richly carved and gaily-painted pan-
nelling for perhaps twenty feet ; then above this rises the white
wall hung with mirrors, surmounted at a great height by a reddish
ceiling of poplar. This lofty hall would be bad enough to warm
with a brazier of coals — which is all you can ever get — for its very
loftiness ; but it rests on ground all permeated by tubes of unburnt
clay, supplying the city with v/ater, and leaking famously all the
time. Only s. handful of Franks — and among them I include the
American missionaries — know such a luxury as a stove. There
are no fireplaces, and no opportunity to dry or worm one's self,
even within the houses of the wealthy. But, then, in those over-
heated, nerveless, changeless summers, which the natives divide
between smoking, praying, bathing and sleeping, such lofty, dewy
apartments must be perfectly delicious. And an eveniog that I
spent at a Jewish banker's, tasting of most delicious preserves,
smoking peifumed tobacco, and laughing with some exquisite
Hebrew maidens, will be a bewitching memory to me as long as I
live.
The Christian antiquities of this oldest of existing cities are
very soon exhausted. Besides the principal avenue, still named
as it is in the "Book of Acts," and inhabited by the largest shops
and best houses, our Jew guide carried us to the spot wliere Paul
is said to have been let down over the outer wall in a basket.
The house of Ananias, an underground chapel, was shown, of
course ; and the tomb of a soldier who befriended the apostle, just
outside of the city. St. John's Church, now the principal mosque,
and forbidden to Clnistian feet, we gaj^ed into from a neighboring
roof, admiring its vastness as well as the six great Corinthian
columns of its front, now built into a heap of shops and houses.
One particular room, it is said to be death even for a Mussulman
to enter, because the bones of the apostle rest there. This tri-
umph of the crescent over the cross it was sad to sec — none the
less that the downfall of Chri.stianity in one of its early citadels,
was a merited judgment upon formalism, sensuality and spiritual
decay. But the oonqncror does not fail to show the decrepitude
of age. Mahommedaniam is not what it was. Tlie dervishes
were its banner men, its most licry defenders and propagators;
and now thoir beautiful mosque at DamascuK seems tottering lo
its fall. Its ppaciou.s court wears a deserted, gloomy look ; but
few of the fanatics are left, and thoHC are no longer students, war-
riors, Huints or apostles, but canting beggars, droning out their
devotions in idleness, filth, and general contempt.
The Damascus bazaars have a very animated air. I did not
think them so good as at Constantinople. There are no such
solid stono arches reaching for miles; the business khans, where
strangers sleep with tlieir goods and nearly free of charge, arc
gloomier and older. One traveller, however, informs the public,
that " tlierc is a grand bazaar for the wholesale business, covered
with a wide dome and refreshed by a central fountain." There
arc really thirty such bazaars, bearing cacli the name of its build-
er, generally a Sultan. Every branch of Ijusincss has its own
quarter, and is carried on full in your sight as you pass — the silk
manufacturer is winding his spools upon the house walls, the
butcher slauglitering his meat by your side in the open street, and
the " fig-paste " merchant working over the sweetened starch,
which makes the favorite bonbon of the Orient. I certainly never
saw — I never even imagined such a profusion of can<ly makers
aud cook-shops ; probably the prosperity of the place vents itself
in this sort of indulgence, and families arc much in the habit of
dining upon dishes not home made, and merchants were often
supplied at their counters, as I saw, by a cup of coffee from the
neighboring shop.
The silk business, the great business of the place, has been
sadly injured by the introduction of cheaper and gayer fabrics of
English cotton and linen. The patterns never have changed for
these thousands of years, nor the mode of manufacture, which I
often witnessed. Damascus steel is wholly a thing of the past.
The richly inlaid aVms are sold only as antiquaries ; the stock of
any one merchant is very small; the shape of the scimetar quite
ungainly, and the "asking price," ludicrously high. I was sur-
prised to find factory goods with an American stamp upon them,
which proved, after all, only an English counterfeit.
The eastern fashion of bargaining is very embarrassing to one
who cannot speak the language — the necessity of insulting a man
by so much less than his price, after drinking his coffee and smok-
ing his tobacco — the fear withal that your dragoman is making a
profit out of your inexperience, by a previous arrangement with
the dealer, is particularly unpleasant. And yet, Damascus silks
are cheap, rich, heavy and peculiar, so as to make the best keep-
sakes one can bring home. My companioii found their pipe-
stems so far before the rest of the world in splendor, that he pur-
chased quite a load as remembrances of Parisian friends. They
were full four feet long, of cherry, covered with purple velvet,
wound with gold ribbon, and hung with heavy tassels of silk —
making, with the amber mouth piece, a toy fit for a prince's lip.
This "eye of the east," as an emperor termed it, has some of
the blurs of age. A more detestable pavement was never imag-
ined. Its stones are smooth as glass, so that neither man nor
beast is certain to keep his feet upon it, and are full of sad holes,
where at night, one plunges to an unknown depth. All the streets
save one, are nameless, winding, eyeless lanes— all mud in the
wet weather, and all dust in the dry, shrouded by decayed mat-
ting, that drops upon you as you pass, and so narrow, that the
encounter with a loaded camel is rather perilous.
The winter cafes were all that were to be seen at the end of
February, and were wonderful for space, for breadth of dome,
and for the merry little rivulets which dance under the walnut-
trees, in their court-yard. Eothen speaks of one that might con-
tain a hundred persons ; Rev. Mr. Barnard carried me into one
where he professed to have often seen more than a thousand per-
sons, and where several thousands would not crowd one another
more than in St. Peter's, at Rome. This absolute necessity of
Turkish life, this escape from the leaden dulness of home, this
lazy substitute for the daily paper, this admirable invention for
killing languid hours of the season when foreigners flee for life to
the cooler mountains, is carried to ])crfection in Damascus. First
of all is the lofty, dome-covered hall, set round with wide couches,
provided on all gala days with an Arabian improvisatore, who
generally helps his recital with some little instrument of music.
Back of this are a number of rustic arbors, interlaced with noble
shade-trees, and watered profusely by nimble brooklets, the whole
lighted every night by the palest little lamps. This is the Dam-
ascene Exchange ; here the fragrant chibouque, the cool narghiley,
the cream-like black coffee, the indolent game at dominoes is re-
lieved by such domestic anecdotes, as — according to my American
friend, who has resided there for many years — brand the home
life of the Turk with a beastly sensuality. I would fain hope that
this is an exaggeration. Still, these enervating climates must
weigh heavily upon a decrepid faith, assisted by a palsied despot-
ism at home. The feeble frames and wanton eyes of the Turk,
his utter indisposition to improve, his contentedness at the passing
away of his power, tell ftarfully against his domestic institution.
There seems hardly a doubt that this quarter of the world cannot
advance, but must rather continue to sink, unless the harem is
abolished, and woman restored to something of her equal rights.
Every other experiment has been tried and has failed. The model
farms of the Sultan are nearly all abandoned ; the youths educated
at Paris are neglected upon their return ; foreign mechanics and
men of science are capriciously patronized, and as capriciously
discharged ; the generals whom Kossuth mentioned as holding
high ofl^icc in the army, are sometimes only drill-sergeants — are dis-
liked by the people, and baulked in their places by some favorite
of the Sultan, who abuses his ear. Sir Stratford Canning is the
only European representative believed to have any influence with
the government; and he has only succeeded by uniting to a perfect
knowledge of the language and a familiar understanding of Turk-
ish character, the despotic energy which they always idolize.
[Written for Qieaaon'H Pictorial.]
AUTOGRAPHS AND AUTOGRAPHY
OF DISTINGUISHED n^IVIDTIALS.
No. XIII.
BY WM. EDWARD KNOWLE8.
Dr. S-MrTii is well known to our readers by his contributions to
this paper under the title of " Turkey and the Turks." Dr. Smith
is a practical physician, as well as a most industrious literary
man. With an observant and cultivated mind, he has stored a
vast fund of useful knowledge by foreign travel. Tiie manuscript,
like the signature, is very hold and decided, but is a good one,
plain, and always easy to read. But to realize the doctor's best
points, one must know him personally.
,J^'lf^'
'A
Mr. Brook.s is a great writer, although he has written com-
paratively but little. We like his poetry much better than his
prose. His chirography is a fine one, bold and graceful ; in the
manuscript it is a rolling hand, easy to read, and excellent in its
construction, con (-eying the idea of completeness, with a slight
straining after effect.
;>^ /^^C;«v.
TucKEEMAN is a grammatical author, but in our opinion noth-
ing more. He never rises to the sublime, nor descends to the
vulgar ; but always writes in the same monotonous style. His
manuscript is neat and legible, but destitute of originality, and
seems to be ever hurried and careless — very unlike the formation
of his sentences.
^
O-^
Theodore S. Fat is a strange writer ; and bis productions
have a far-fetched and over delicate finish. His fame as a noveli-it
will never roach very high. But in small matters he is deservedly
popular. His handwriting is excellent, being pUin and suggestive
of finish and care in the effort of tho pen.
C'tuy^^'i/'-^
^rD
Mr. Ddrivage is a familiar favorite with the readers of the
Pictorial, and as a writer stands deservedly high. He is a ripe
scholar, a fine ]:ioet (witness his last poem in these pages, to Au-
tumn), a most graceful artist, and in short a thoroughly accom-
plished literary man. Like his signature, his manuscript is com-
plete, and nicely finished, and his subject always originally handkd
and given to the public in the most perfect garb of language.
^.
Fredrika Bremer. This lady, with her world-wide fame,
riclily deserves all the praise she so liberally receives. Her man-
uscript is a good, though irregular one, easily deciphered ; it indi-
cates womanly delicacy, but steadiness of purpose in its general
aspect. The Swedish authoress needs no elaborate notice from
us, her fame is great and lasting.
G. P. K. James has written more than any other living author.
Eor a long period his productions were most eagerly sought for;
but the abundance of the supply has in some respect satisfied the
public taste. His manuscript is plain, hurried of course, but very
uniform, and what would be called by printers a good one.
With this number we close the scries of autographs and auto-
graphy for the present. At the commencement of our new vol-
ume on the first of January, we propose to resume it again. It
will be conducted by one who has made the subject a study, and
who is amply able to do it full justice, besides holding in his pos-
session nearly every autograph of interest that can be obtained.
We have found that this feature of the Pictorial has wiven great
pleasure in certain quarters, and therefore mention our purpo.sc of
resuming the subject in our next volume, that there may bo no
disappointment in the matto'. Our new series will ho more club-
orate and more finished than the one herewith completed.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
351
THE SULTAN.
Bayard Taylor gives the foHowing interesting
description of the Sultan of Turkey : " Sultan
Abdul-Medjid is a man of about thirty, though
he looks older. He has a mild, amiable, weak
face, dark eyes, a prominent nose, and short
dark-brown mustache and beard. His face is
thin, and wrinkles are already making their ap-
pearance about the corners of his mouth and
eyes. Bat for a certain vacancy of expression,
he would be called a handsome man. He sirs
on his horse with much ease and grace, though
there is a slight stoop in his shoulders. His legs
arc crooked, owing to which cause he appears
awkward when on his feet, though he wears a
long cloak to conceal the deformity. Indulgence
has weakened a constitution naturally not strong,
and increased that mildness which has now be-
come a defect in his character. He was dressed
in a style of the utmost richness and elegance.
He wore a red Turkish fez, with an immense
rosette of brilliants, and a long floating plume of
hird-of-paradise feathers. The diamond in the
centre of the rosette is of unusual size ; it was
picked up some years ago in the Hippodrome,
and probably belonged to the treasury of the
Greek emperors. The breast and collar of his
coat were one mass of diamonds, and sparkled
in the early sun with a thousand rainbow gleams.
His mantle of dark -blue cloth hung to his knees,
concealing the deformity of his legs. He wore
white pantaloons, white kid gloves, and patent
leather boots, thrust into his golden stirrups.
OLD BANK NOTES.
A package of bank bills was recently found
among a large quantity of old papers which had
been accumulating in the store rooms of the late
Dr. Wing, of Albany, N. Y., for many years,
and which had been put aside to be taken to the
paper mill. The package was enveloped in
'• Cram's New York Price Current," of August,
1804, and contained three notes, amounting in
all to fifteen dollars, which appeared from a writ-
ten memorandum on the wrapper to have been
laid aside to pay a bill. They had been lying
idle, judging from the date of the paper in which
they were enclosed, at least forty-seven years.
They were probably wrapped up by the late
Matthew Gregory, father inlaw of Dr. Wing.
The Albany Journal says that the three banks
which issued these bills fifty years ago are still in
existence, ready to redeem these venerable relics
of their youth.
Gold in Peru. — Great excitement has been
produced throughout Peru, owing to the discov-
ery of gold in the mines of Huacho, some twenty
miles north of Lima, on the sea coast. Large
numbers of gold seekers have already gone to
the diggings. A piivate letter speaks of the
yield of metal as greatly exceeding that of Cali-
fornia.
— < ^m^ >
Lake Steajikrs. — There are six steamers
contracted for, and some of them commenced, of
the largest dimensions ever built upon the lakes,
to run on Lake Erie, and to he out in the spring.
No pains or expense is to be spared in making
them superior in point of speed to anything afloat.
The Amazon. — It has been decided to assign
to Lieut. Page the exploration of the Amazon
River, which, it is ascertained, is navigable for
4000 miles, with a depth of water from 40 to 250
feet, approaching within 150 miles of the Pacific.
The Water Witch is detailed for this service.
A Sad Rkai.ity. — The Chinese value the
Scriptures chiefly for their morocco covers, which
t!iey convert into shoes ! How many use the Gos-
pel thus — wearing only its outside appearance !
No DOUBT OF IT — A Boston tailor told us
the other day that the Spiritual Kappings were a
humbug, but that his (w) rappingsfor cash were
wonderfully neat and comfortable.
Mercantile Library Association. — Mr.
J. E. Murdoch will occupy one of the evenings
of the seasons, before this association, with his
recitations and Shaksperian readings.
Ka'Jame ThiHon's Fxicoess in opera, at the Howard, has
b2en remarkable. — American Union.
Kemarkable, because as a vocalist, she is com-
paratively )wthinf/ ; Rs a woman, she is benutifuL
Musical Hall. — We learn from "To-Day"
that the new musiial hati cost some $140,000,
iuilnding furniture.
lUausibc ©atljcriiig©.
Honor, not taleni, makes the gentleman.
Napoleon landed at St. Helena on the 13th of
October, 1815.
To cure a fit of passion walk out into the open
air.
Potatoes are brought from California, weigh-
ing four and five pounds.
Julia Dean, at the Broadway Theatre, con-
tinues to be very attractive.
We would not give a fig for a man who can't
stand abuse philosophically.
The commerce of the Gulf of Mexico amounts
to over 8200,000,000 per annum.
Theodore Parker and Daniel Webster — the
living ass and the dead lion.
Elk county. Pa., has subscribed $100,000 to
the Sunbury and Erie railroad.
Mi-s. Sinclair and Mr. George Vandenhoff'are
plajing at the West.
During the past month the American Bible
Society has issued 83,304 bibles and testaments.
Eighty silver cups and goblets were awarded
at the agricultural fair lately held at Sacramento.
Tycbo Brahe amused himself with polishing
glasses for spectacles ; and Socrates by playing
with children.
Nearly all the omnibus lines in Philadelphia
are running for three cents, and the system is
found to work well.
The common council of Brooklyn, N. Y., have
selected Dr. Bethune to deliver an eulogy on
the death of Hon. Daniel Webster.
The recorder of San Erancisco has decided
that horses shall not be driven through the streets
at greater speed than six miles an hour.
Rev. George Trask asserts that sleeping with
a tobacco consumer actually affects the health
of a person who does not use the article.
The number of sea-going vessels in the world
is about eighty-five thousand, of which two-thirds
belong to England and the United States.
■ Not less than 50,000 barrels of fish will be
shipped this year from a single district in the
south end of Lake Michigan. Value $250,000.
A lump of saleratus applied to the sting of a
wasp or bee, will stop the pain in one moment,
and prevent it from swelling. Pin this fact up
somewhere for next summer's use.
Dr. Strachan, Bishop of Toronto, Canada,
went to Kingston recently, and baptized fifty of
the convicts in tlie penitentiary, and confirmed
one hundred and fifty others.
Mrs. Norton, tried and acquitted in Marquette
county, "Wis., for whipping a child to death, has
been sentenced to the State prison for a term of
ten years.
Mr. Levi Snow, of Hermon. Me., while driv-
ing a team from that town to Bangor, fell from
the load, and was run over and injured so se-
verely, that he lived but a short time.
A single house in Ohio have shipped to Cali-
fornia during the past season 405,000 pounds of
butter. The Ohio producers are paid an average
price of 12 1-2 cents per pound.
Mr. Webster's congressional career embraced
eight years in the House of Representatives, and
about nineteen years in the Senate ; in all about
twenty-seven years.
The Sunday Times advises certain party edi-
tors to read over, during the month after elec-
tion, the articles they wrote in the month before
election — and blush !
The subject of reviving the convocation of the
Church, in England, is exciting the religious
world. Petitions for and against its revival are
in circulation among the clergy.
An extensive bed of sulphur has been found
between the village of Kench and the Red Sea,
at the strait called Bahar et Sefingus, Upper
Egypt. It is about to be opened for commerce.
" Heroine" is perhaps as peculiar a word as
any in our language ; the two first letters of it
are male, the three fir>t female, the four first a
brave man, and the whole word a brave woman.
Edward Bougbton has been sentenced by the
county court of Litchfield, Cl., to six years im-
prisonment in the State prison, for placing ob-
sti'uctions upon the track of the Naugatuck Rail
Road.
J. Scott Harrison, son of the late President
Harrison, is among the members of Congress
just elected in Ohio. He was chosen from Cin-
cinnati, and bears the reputation of an intelli-
gent, upright and able public man.
The Sabbalh of the Christians, is observed on
Monday by the Greeks, on Tuesday by the Per-
sians, on Wedncsdq^ by the Assyrians, on Thurs-
day by the Egyptians, on Friday by the Turks,
and on Saturday by the Jews.
A son of Mr. George Lutman, of Utah, Ohio,
aged seven or eight years, while eating some
hickory nuts, got a piece of the shell in his wind-
pipe. Medical aid wa.s called, hut the shell could
not be extracted, and the little sufferer died.
The Cincinnati Commercial says that a luna-
tic escaped confinement at home, went into Third
street, bought and sold thirty shares of railroad
stock, pocketed 5-90 clear profit, and was ar-
rested before he could go on another speculation.
The Catholics of Memphis, Tenn., are about
to erect one of the most splendid edifices west of
the Alleghanies, which will be dedicated by
Bisliop Hughes. It i« to have towers (ach one
hundred feet high, surmounted by a chime of
bciU.
JTorcign flliaccllanji.
The small pox is raging fearfully at Corfu.
One third of the population of Europe live on
rye bread.
A shock of earthquake occurred at Cadi/.,
October 14th.
In ten years, sixty thousand houses have been
built in London.
All of Prescott's historical works are published
in London, in six-shilling volumes.
The cost of the Burmese expedition up to the
1st of July, is about £500 000.
In the German universities there arc 18,810
students, and 1666 professors and tutors.
The Protestant population of France is only
one million and a half, while the Catholic popu-
lation is thirty-five or thirty -six millions.
Bristol is to be made a port of departure for
the new company of ocean steamers to Australia,
and it is believed for those also to America.
The Portuguese wine company is abolished.
In future only one quality of wine of the Douro
is exportable, chiefly Oporto.
The correspondence of Napoleon the Great,
now in preparation by Napoleon the I-<ittle, is
expected to fill about seventy-five octavo volumes.
Nelson's funeral, in 1809, cost about seventy-
thousand dollars ; William Pitt's, tliirty tliou-
sand. Wellington's will probably cost as much
as both together.
The London Chronicle mentions a rumor that
another infenial machine was discovered at Fon-
tainbleau,and that it was to have been discharged
at the president while hunting in the forest.
In a barber's shop in North Shields, there is a
bill recommending a certain patent medicine,
with the very dubious heading: " Try one box —
no other medicine will ever be taken."
It is stated hy a traveller, that there is a gen-
tleman living in Jamaica, whose father was the
Duke of Kent (father of Queen Victoria), and
whose wife is a daughter of George IV.
The Duke of Terceira, and several other offi-
cers, had arrived at Southampton, deputed by
the Portuguese government, to be present at the
funeral of Wellington.
Tlie two largest screw ships of war in the
world are the "Napoleon," of the French navy,
and ihe "Wellington," of the English. Tiiis
last ship's broadsides will discharge more than
four thousand pounds weight of metal.
The area of Babylon was two hundred and
twenty-five square miles, that of Nineveh two
hundred and sixteen square miles, while that of
London and its environs is but one hundred and
fourteen square miles.
3o\\txs SuLigct.
jSanifi of ©olb.
A flatterer is the shadow of a fool.
.... All are not thieves that dogs hark at.
.... There is no God but God, the living, the
self-subsisting. — The Koran.
To be really and truly independent is to
support ourselves by our own exertions.
.... A mind that is conscious of its integrity,
scoras to say more than it means to perform.
. . . Wo gain as much in avoiding tlie failure
of others as we do in imitating their virtues.
. . . .Running accounts will run away with a
person's credit more rapidly than anything else.
.... It is not decent to spend your money in
foolishness, when you have debts that ought to
be paid.
.... True goodness is like the glow-worm : it
shines most when no eyes save those of Heaven
are upon it.
.... Hear no ill of a friend, nor speak any of
an enemy. Believe not all you hear, nor speak
all }ou believe.
.... Old men are long shadows, and their
evening sun lie.:, cold upon the earth, but they all
point towards the morning.
.... When we are saluted with a salutation,
salute the person witli a better salutation, or, at
least, return the same, for God taketh an account
of all things- — Koran.
.... We should all he cautious, as we advance
in life, of allowing occasional sorrowful experi-
ences to overshadow our perception of the pre-
ponderance of good.
.... As defect of strength in us makes Fomc
weights to be unmovable, so likewise defect of
understanding makes some iruths to be mysteri-
ous.— Bishop Sherhch.
.... Passions act as wind to propel our ves-
sel, and our reason is the pilot that steers her.
Without rhe wind we could not move, without
the pilot we should be lost.
.... Idleness is the dead sea that swallows all
virtues, and the self made sepulchre of a living
man. The idle man is the devil's urchin, whose
lively is rags, and whose diet and wages are
famine and discafc.
.... God intended for women two prevent-
ives against sin — modesty and remorse : in con-
fession to a mortal priest tlie former is removed ;
by bis altsolution, the latter is taken away. —
Mirai^da of Piedmont.
.... Nothing sets so wide a mark between a
vulgar and a noble soul, as the respect and n-v-
crendal love of woman-kind. A man wJ o is
always sneering at woman is generally a coarse
profligate, or a coar.scr bigot.
Which three letters are of most use to a states-
man ? — AYZ (a wise head.)
There is a gravestone in a neighlioring ceme-
tery, bearing the inscription, "Bub and Sis."
Young physicians find it hard to get into busi-
ness ; but they will succeed if they only have
patieiits.
An American traveller in Egypt called his
Arab guide " a son of a gun." •' I aui not a
soldier," was the grave response.
The man who has no music in his soul, was
last seen listening to a saw filer while at work.
The man seemed highly delighted.
A sickly friend had labored so hard to raise
an appetite, that, when he had succeeded, he re-
fused to eat meat, lest he should spoil it again.
Dickens, in speaking of a friend, says that his
face has been so jiitted and seamed by the sniall-
pox, that it looked like a cane-bottomed chair.
" Sammy, run to the store and get some su-
gar." " Excuse me, ma; I am somewhat indi.s-
posed this morning. Send father, and tell him
to bring a paper of tobacco along."
A certain judge, after hearing a flowery dis-
course from a young lawyer, advi.=ed him lo
pluck out some of the feathers from the wings of
his imagination, and put them into the tail of his
judgment.
Placards have been posted on various parts of
the rotunda in the Merchant's Exchange, of New
York, bearing the following notice : " Gentlemen
using tobacco are informed ihat no extra charge
will be made for the use of the spittoons."
At the Astor House, not long ago. a gentle-
man saw one of the guests give bis fork to anoth-
er, with "just stick that fork into that potato for
me, will you V His neighborly neighbor did as
he was requested, and left it sticking there!
The man who was appointed a committee to
inquire inio his own conduct, has reported in
part, and asked for power to send for persons
and papers. He says if be had known how much
there was to do, he never would have undertaken
the job.
YOLTJMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictoejai Dkawiko
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and mot t
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a boot of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND COKTAININQ NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current ETent=; all over the world ;
of Scenery in all piirts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; >vith an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
BesiUes the many illustrations, it embraces in its pagr g
avast iimount of original Tales, Stet-cbes, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of Auierican authors, with a current
News Kecord of the times; altogether Ibmiing an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for futu'-- reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at aU the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR MIO?\\
AN ELEGANT, MOKAL AND REKalD
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expressly for
tliis paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothin"- r>f
;m immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER POR TEE MILLION,
AND A WELCO^ilE TISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading ivttkly paper in tiie UnitefJ States^ and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contain.*! the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are adir.i"ed
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE 3IAMM0TH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of coutribxitors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
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®iBn©nsriiiL iPiiiFiiiBc)
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SUESCEIBEES.
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4 '- <' 6 00
6 '' " 11 00
16 " " -20 00
One copy of the Flag of our Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawing-Uoom Companion, one yeai-, for S5 00.
[C/^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
[1:7=- AU orders should be addressed, post paid, to the
Publisher of the Flag of oor Union.
*#* The Flag can be obtained at any of the veia^aper
depots in the United States, and of newspaper carriers^ at
FOUR CENTS jjtr single copy.
F. GLEASON,
Publisher and Proprietor, Boston, Mass.
352
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DIIAWING ROOM COMPANION.
VIEW OF THE CHINCHA GUANO ISLANDS, ON THE COAST OF PERU.
THE CHINCHA GUANO ISLANDS.
TheChincha Islands are situated between the 13th and 14th de-
crees of south latitude, some 120 miles from Cailao, the port of
Lima, and twelve miles from the port of Pisco, whence laborers
arc procured for the operations of digging and shipping the guano
with which these islands are covered. Guano has been taken
from the northernmost island by the native Peruvians, from time
immemorial; or, at any rate, it had been taken by them for an
indefinite period previous to the discovery of the country by the
Spaniards, now more than three centuries ago, and it has contin-
ued to be taken by them ever since. Indeed, without guano, the
valleys on the coast of Peru could never have arrived at the highly
productive state in wbifh they now are. The quantity, however,
required for that strip of coast is a mere bagatelle, which is shown
by the slight impression made on the deposit by an abstraction of
the article during, perhaps, a period of half a century. Matters
on the islands of Chincha now present an altered appearance. In
1840, attention was first drawn to guano for the purpose of agi-i-
culture in Europe, and every year since shipments
have ipcreased. Until quite lately, the northernmost
island only had been touched. For the facility, how-
ever, of more rapid shipment, to meet the increasing
demand for the article, shutes were arranged on the
middle island, where vessels are now also loaded.
The waters are so quiet around these islands, that
vessels are enabled without danger, to haul close to
the cliff, and receive their cargoes through wooden or
canvass shutes. In this way, a vessel of 500 tons
may be loaded in a couple of days. As to the quan-
tity of guano existing on these islands, it would seem
that it will not be easily exhausted ; notwithstanding
the increased demand in Europe and America, and
notwithstanding the fact that no addition is now being
made to it, or has been made to it, since the Span-
iards first entered the valley of Itimac. The expo-
sure of a perpendicular surface from the top to the
bottom of the deposit, which, in some places, reaches
a depth of 150 feet, shows a uniform appearance of
such a character as proves beyond a doubt the anti-
quity of the deposit. It must have been the work of
many thousands of years. It is rather a curious fact,
that, although there are many islets in the neighbor-
hood, not one of them has any deposit of guano.
These islands partake of the advantage enjoyed only
on the coast of Peru and Bolivia, viz.: that they are
free from rain. Hence this enormous deposit of gua-
no; and hence the superiority in quality which it
possesses, as a dressing for the land, over the guano
brought from the coast of Africa and Patagonia. A
narrator gives the following graphic description of the
appearance of this great dejmsit of manure : " Having
anchored between the north and middle islands, at
the latter of which we are to load, we will borrow the boat, and
have a closer look at the huge muck heap. Pulling half round
the island to the landing-place, we step ashore on a narrow slip of
sandy beach, which appears to be cleared from the surrounding
rocks for our special convenience. Our appearance disturbs thou-
sands of the web-footed natives ; these thousands count with the
old hands as nothing, for they tell us that the shipping have
driven all the birds away. Sailing above us is a flock of pelicans,
hovering over the clear water like hawks, which they resemble in
their mode of darting down or stooping on their prey. One of
of these every instant drops from the flock as though a ball had
whistled through his brain ; but, after a plunge, he is soon seen
rising to the surface with a fish struggling in his capacious pouch.
Nearer to us, whirling round our heads, are gannets, mews, mut-
ton-birds, divers, gulls, guano birds, and a host of others whose
names arc unknown to the vulgar. On the detached rocks and
the lower edge of the island — member of a pretty numerous con-
vocation— stands the penguin, parson-bird of the sailor, whose
good name is fairly earned by his cut-away black coat, white tie,
and solemn demeanor. His short legs planted far back, and his
long body, do not fit him for a walk ashore ; but he will sit for
hours on a little rock just washed by the waves, apparently in
such deep absence of mind, that passers-by are attempted to ap-
proach in hope of catching him. Just as the boat nears him, and
a hand is already stretched out to grasp hi^ neck, away he goes,
head over heels in a most irreverent and ridiculous manner, dives
under the boat, and shows his head again about a quarter of a mile
out at sea, where the sailor may catch him who can, for he is the
fastest swimmer and the best diver that ever dipped. Stepping
over the mortal remains of several sea-lions, in a few strides we
are on the guano, and at the next step in it up to our knees. The
guano is regularly stratified ; the lower strata are solidified by the
weight of the upper, and have acquired a dark red color, which
becomes gradually lighter towards the surface. On the surface it
has a whitey-brown light crust containing eggs, being completely
ties to the landing of ships. On the top of the cliff is a large en-
closure formed of stakes, firmly bound together by strong chains
passed round the whole. This enclosure is capable of holding
four or five hundred tons of guano. It is made wide, and open
at the upper end, and gradually slopes down to a point on the ex-
treme verge of the precipice, where a small opening is left, exactly
fitting which is a large canvass shute or pipe, which hangs down
the face of tlie rock nearly to the water. The ship, having taken
in by means of her boats enough guano to ballast her, hauls in to
this shute, the end of which is taken aboard and passed down the
hatchway. The guano is then poured into the hold in a continu-
ous stream at the rate of two hundred and fifty tons a day, the en-
closure being filled by the Indians during the night. They carry
the whole of the guano down on their backs in bags, taking about
eighty pounds at each journey. Some are employed in pushing
the guano down the shute, at the mouth of which is stationed an
Indian, who, by tightening a rope passed round it, regulates or
stops the descent of the manure. To the various parts of the long
pipe ropes are attached, which lead to the different
mast heads of the ships, and thence on deck, where
each rope is tended bj^ a man who, by successively
hauling on and slackening it, keeps the shute in mo-
tion, and thus hinders it from choking. This chok-
ing, however, now and then occurs ; and it is then a
difficult and tedious matter to set all right again, as
the pressure binds the guano into a compact mass,
which can sometimes only be liberated by cutting the
shute open. Birds are frequently carried down into
the ship's hold ; and at one of the islands, an Indian,
accidentally slipping in, was forced through the shute,
and taken out at the other end quite dead. On each
island there are two enclosures and two shutes, one
much smaller than the other, being used only for load-
ing the boats. The ship's crew is employed in tend-
ing the bowlines attached to the shute, and though
working in the open air, the men are compelled to
wear oakum defences, for the clouds of dust arising
from the hold are stifling. The ship is covered from
truck to kelson ; the guano penetrates into the cap-
tain's cabin and the cook's coppers — not a cranny es-
capes. The very rats are set a sneezing, and the old
craft is converted into one huge wooden snuff-box.
The infliction, however, does not last long, three days
being generally sufficient for the loading of a large
ship. At the end of three days right glad w^s I to
see the hatches on, the mooring chains hove in, and
the flying jib-boom once more pointing towards Pisco."
BLOCK OF MARBLE FROM N. Y. FIRE DEPARTMENT TO W^ASHINGTOX MONUMENT,
honeycombed by the birds, which scratch deep, oblique holes in it
to serve as nests, wherein eggs, seldom more than two to each
nest, are deposited. These holes often running into each other,
form long galleries with several entrances, and this mining system
is so elaborately carried out, that you can scarcely put a foot on
any part of the islands without sinking to the knee and being
tickled with the sense of a hard beak digging into your unpro-
tected ankles. The egg shells and the bones and remains of fish
brought by the old birds for their young, must form a considerable
part of the substance of the guano, which is thus in a great meas-
ure deposited beneath the surface, and thrown out by the birds.
In getting the guano, the diggers have commenced originally at
the edge of the precipitous side of the island, and worked inland;
80 that the cutting now appears like the face of a quarry worked
into the side of a hill. The steep perpendicular face of the rock, .
which rises from the sea like a wall, and the boldness of the shore
— there is seven fathom water close in — have afforded great facili-
BLOCK OF MARBLE.
This chaste, and artistic piece of sculpture was on
exhibition for a few days previous "to its shipment for
its destination, at the Fair of the American Institute,
in New York, and attracted great attention from the crowds of
visitors to that institution, by whom it was much admired for the
beauty and softness of its finish, as well as for the force and vigor
of its outline. It is a block of about three feet long by two wide,
and bears on its face a facsimile representation of a discharge
certificate of the New York Fire Department. On the left is seen
a fireman, who has thrown off the habiliments of his honored ser-
vice, and, presented by the figure of Fame (represented by the
sitting figure), to the fire department, receives at her hand his dis-
charge certificate. On the right are represented the widow and
orphan of a deceased fireman, who are under the protection and
receive aid from the department. Beneath this group is repre-
sented the habiliments of the service chastely grouped, surrounded
by a length of hose, and flanked by the following inscription : —
" Block of Alarhle presented to the W iishin<]ion AJonnment, bi/ the Fire
DepartmentoftheCityof New York.'* It is afine piece of sculpture,
and is a fac-simile of the fireman's certificate of membership.
p. GLEASON,
( CORNER BROMFIELD
1 AND TREMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1852.
92 per volume.
10 cts. single.
A^OL. m. No. 23.— Whole No. 75.
PIERCE AND KING.
The President elect, of whom we give an ad-
mirable likeness below, by our artist Mr. Eowse,
is a son of the lale General Benjamin Pierce, of
Revolutionary memory, and who was Governor
of New Hampshire in 1827-29. The President
elect was born in 1798, and is, therefore, fifty-
four years old. He commenced his public ca-
reer in the Legislature of his native State, and
distinguished himself both as member and speak-
er of the House, until 1833, when he was sent
to Congress as the Democratic candidate from
bis native district. While he was yet a member
of the national House of Representatives, he
was chosen by the State Legislature of New
Hampshire a member of the United Sfates Senate
for the term of six years, in 1837. He remained
until the year 1842, when he resigned his office,
and returning to his home, at Concord, devoted
himself to the profession of the law. He was
appointed first a colonel, and afterwards general,
in the late Mexican war, wherein he distinguish-
ed himself for bravery and good generalship.
After Mexico had been conquered, he resigned
his commission, and returned once more to his
home in New England, and to private life, from
whence the late vote of his countrymen has ele-
vated him to the highest post of honor in the
world, for such we deem the Presidency of these
United States. William Rufus King, Vice-Pres-
ident elect, was bom in North Carolina, and is
now about sixty-five years of age. Having, at
an early period of life, taken up his residence in
that part of the country which was afterwards
known as the State of Alabama, he was elected
one of the first senators of that State, when it
was admitted into the Union, and he took his
seat in the body, over which he now presides,
thirty-three years ago. He is, therefore, since
Colonel Benton and Henry Clay are no longer
there, the father of the American Senate. For
a period of a quarter of a century, without in-
terruption (1819 to 184-i), he represented Alaba-
ma in the highest legislative seat on the conti-
nent. He was appointed, in 1844, to represent
this country as ambassador at the Court of Louis
Philippe. Since then his career, as a promi-
nent member of the Democratic party, has been
of a character to render him familiar to all. At
the late (stormy) convention of his party, at Bal-
timore, he was chosen as the candidate for the
Vice Presidency, in connection with Gen. Pierce
as the Presidential candidate. The result is fa-
miliar to everv reader of the Pictorial. As it
regards the likenesses given below, they are un-
questionably excellent, and those who are per-
sonally acquainted with the gentlemen them-
selves, will bear willing and ready testimony to
this. — Now that the election and the excitement
which attended it have subsided, we can pause
and admire the firmness and stability of our in-
stitutions which lead the masses off the battle-
field of politics to the great plains of peaceful
commercial pursuits, or other occupations, with-
out a murmur, when the voice of the majority
has been fully expressed. No bloodshed, no
buUpts (except paper ones), no riots ; all is once
more quiet, peaceable, American ! What a con-
trast is here presented to the manner of doing
things in the old world ! There barricades and
gunpowder would be the probable denouement of
such a change of administration.
GENERAL FRANK PIERCE.
HON, WILLIAM R. KING.
PORTRAITS OF GEN. FRANK PIERCE AND HON. WILLIAM R, ZING, PRESIDENT AND VICE PRESIDENT ELECT OF THE UNITED STATES.
354
GLEASON'S ]>l(rr01lIAL DRAAVIXG llOOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of MasBiichusettB.
[wniTTEN EXPBBSSLT FOR OLKABON'S PICTORIAL.]
THE SlO-If 0F THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Talc of file Camp mul C^wrt of Bonaparte.
BY B. PERLEY POORE.
[continued.]
CHAPTER XV.
AN UNEXPECTED JNTEEKDPTIOX.
Bonaparte had not passed many days in
Paris, ere he was looked to by all as the man
who should seize the helm of state, and pilot the
vessel of state into more peaceful waters. The
enthusiastic reception with which he had been
received showed the tone of national feeling, and
he became forcibly impressed with the necessity
of speedily accomplishing hij long thought of
plans. To deliver France from the domination
of unprincipled factions, to surround her with a
glory which should surpass even that of ancient
Rome, and to make himself the arbiter of her
destinies, was the great and worthy object of his
ambitious thoughts.
Retiring to a beautiful country-seat, named
Malmaison, which Josephine had purchased dur-
ing his absence, he kept perfectly tranquil, but
began to cautiously fathom the men who were
to be selected as subordinate actors in the ap-
proaching drama. Meanwhile his political plans
were actively going forward, through the active
instrumentality of his few initiated friends, and
most of the superior officers were engaged to
support him. The rest, be well knew, would
follow their leaders, and mechanically act in
obedience to the impulse imparted to them.
The volatile Parisians, however, grumbled
loudly at the seclusion of their idol, and one
evening Bonaparte suddenly decided to gratify
them by appearing in public, and at the same
time to fulfil a long given promise. The next
morning, while the residents at Malmaison were
breakfasting, the papers arrived from Paris.
Bonaparte and Josephine glanced eagerly at the
political news, but Judith, wedded to her art,
looked at the musical intelligence.
Was it a dream? She sat, looking intently
at the paragraph as if entranced, until Josephine
read from the journal she was perusing :
" We understand that General Bonaparte will
honor the opera with his presence on Monday
evening next, to assist at the debut of Mademoi-
selle Judith Fezenzac, a young vocalist of rare
merit, who has come from the East under his
patronage."
" Ah ha!" said Bonaparte. " Did I not tell
my nightingale that I should soon applaud her
performances. Don't look so frightened, Judith,
we have each to make our how before the public,
and we must put srout hearts upon the matter.
The manager will soon be here, and will take
you into the city for rehearsal."
" Kind, generous man !" exclaimed Judith.
" Amid all your varied occupations, you have
thought of the poor orphan, and — "
" And," interrupted Bonaparte, " here comes
the manager's carriage. So run to your room
and get ready. Should you feel timid on Mon-
day evening, remember that in my dictionary
there is no such word as fail."
******
Great was the demand for tickets, and long
before the doors of the opera house were opened
on the appointed evening, the adjacent streets
were thronged with brilliant equipages, hackney
coaches, and curious pedestrians. At last the
hour came, and soon every part of the house
was crowded. The boxes were filled with ladies
in full dress, proud in the consciousness of snr-
paasing loveliness, and expecting not only to be
enchanted by the debutante, but to enchant oth-
ers by their charms. In the pit were the critics,
their faces sharpened by expectation of the new
prey within their grasp. And all over the house
were right worthy citizens, with their portly wives
and their blushing daughters, eager to see the
p;ttron of the night. All present evidently con-
sidered him as one upon whose expression bung
the fate of the nation ; " a look where men might
read strange matters."
At last a prolonged roll of the drums without
was heard, but the clang of the martial salute by
the guard was soon drowned by repeated cheer-
ing. Again and again shouts were heard — they
came up the staircase — they echoed through the
lobby. Within the house a death like silence
reigned, but when the door of the reserved box
was opened, and Bonaparte appeared, loud
shouts of welcome rang from pit to dome. The
orchestra, inspired with the prevalent enthusiasm,
struck up the Marseilles Hymn, and nearly all
present, as if frantic with joy, joined in its in-
spiring chorus.
The object of this boisterous homage received
it unmoved. Advancing to the front of his box,
he bowed thrice, and then stood calmly, with
folded arms, surveying the brilliant scene before
him. He wore the simple costume of the Insti-
tute of Sciences, his long, chestnut hair fell upon
his shoulders, and his dark blue eyes gave ani-
mation to his sun-browned countenance, over
which thought had cast an interesting shade.
By his side, a few paces in the rear, however,
stood Josephine, dressed 1o perfection, and wear-
ing a tiara of diamonds as sparkling as her wit.
She seemed to give herself up to the illusion of
the moment, and to enjoy the regal homage paid
to her warrior lord.
The overture was at length performed, the
curtain was drawn up, and Judith entered,
dressed in a becoming peasant dress. Loud as
was the applause which had greeted Bonaparte, it
was re-echoed when the audience saw in the
new candidate for their favor such exquisite and
perfect beauty. The Parisians love female
beatUty, and were entranced by Judith's exquis-
itely proportioned figure, the classical loveliness
of her intellectual countenance, the glowing bril-
liancy of her eyes, shaded by their luxuriant
lashes. Every charm embodied by pencil or
chisel seemed united, and as she advanced to the
foot-lights, her eyes fixed upon her protector,
she captivated all hearts.
The success thus commenced, changed into a
regular frenzy of applause when her voice elec-
trified the house with its sparkling tones. Clear
and brilliant as diamonds, her notes charmed the
senses, and were rendered with a .'spontaneous
emotion seeming to emanate from her very soul.
Suddenly, and some thought it a part of the
opera, an old man, with a staff" in his hand,
rushed upon the stage. His face was meagre
and pale, a grizzled beard hiding the lower part
of it, while the strongly marked Israelitish fea-
tures denoted his race. No sooner did Judith
see him, than she ceased singing, and, crossing
her hands upon her breast, sank upon her knees.
But the intruder, with relentless grasp, seized
her by the slioulder — one of those moulded
shoulders which had been so much admired.
" Judith," said he, in an angry tone, " why, 0
why do I find thee in tills place of abomination'?
Is not the cup of ihy people full, that thou join-
est.in such heathen mummeries, which will ever
ex(;lude you from the eternal Zion? Arise, and
go hence I"
Meekly, and without a word, the poor girl
obeyed her father. The cup nhc had so long
and so earnestly desired to ta^te, was snatched
from her lips, and her houI, wJiich had just begun
to soar in the realms of triumph, sank into the
abyss of despair, The audience were electrified
by this unexpected incident, and loudly sllgma-
tizcd the intruding father. Then the mana-
ger came forward, and announced with a low
bow, that " a favorite comedy would be substi-
tuted for the unexpected domestic drama." And
the pun not only reconciled the versatile Paris-
ians, but they decided that the new singer was
not much, after all. The men thought that she
had a good figure, but the gentler portion of the
audience treated her without mercy,
Judith, retreating to her dressing-room to
change her costume, was followed by her exas-
perated parent. No sooner were they alone,
than he began to upbraid her.
" Wo, wo unto me !" he exclaimed, "that my
daughter has forgotten the courts of Salem, and
has deserted the tents of Zion. The Lord con-
demned me to exile, and far have I wandered to
find my only child — my pride — my joy — my
Judith. I discover her — but in an abyss of per-
dition and wo, .where Moloch reigns."
" Pity, pity," cried Judith, wringing her hands
in despair.
" Pity ! What pity hast thou shown for me ?
For years have I nursed you, as a tender flower,
with simple, anxious care. For years I watched
its growth, all pure and spotless as were the pa-
triarchs' daughters. Then came a storm — it rent
my precious nursling from the parent stalk, and
I did follow. For many a month I've pursued
my idol, hoping to find it worthy of my love,
and of a place in Jacob's heavenly fold. And
now — 0 what a change ! Bitter thorns spring
up where my flower was cherished, and my spirit
is bowed into the dust."
"Father!" sobbed Judith, sinking on her
knees at his feet. "Father, may. the God of
Israel listen to me, and curse me if I speak
falsely. Here on my knees do I confess my
fault, and sue for pardon. I have been in cap-
tivity and danger — I have felt alone, and have
followed strange counsels — but,in no one instance
have I forgotten the creed of my fathers, or
thought of strange gods. Dependent, I wished
to gain my livelihood by exercising a fascinating
talent, but no breath can sully the purity of my
reputation, or mar my fame — "
" The God of Abraham be glorified !" inter-
rupted Mordecai.
" Hear me," continued his daughter. " Spot-
less as the snow upon Mount Sinai, I now ask
forgiveness, feeling that I have sinned against
Heaven and in thy sight. 0, I am a wretched,
a hateful sinner, to afflict thee thus. I, who in
former years believed ray daily labor was and
ever would be, to console and cheer thy days of
age and sorrow. O, canst thou not smile on me
once more? Can thy generous mind forget the
words that thou hast just spokeU' — the scene thou
saw'st this night"? Father, I am a suppliant!
A prodigal ! Let me not plead in vain."
" Jehovah bless thee !" said Mordecai. "And
now, let me leave this place."
" But Madame Bonaparte !"
" Think no more of her. I am your father.
I have wealth enough to supply our wants, and
you can comfort my declining years."
There was a knock heard at the door, and no
sooner had Mordecai unfastened the latch, than
Bonaparte entered, followed by Josephine.
" Well, sir !" said the general, " you brought
your daughter's triumph to a speedy termina-
tion. Never mind. No reply. I wish no dis-
cussion—no recrimination. You are probably
her father, and if so, have a right to do as you
please."
The Jew, without uttering a word, changed
his position. In an instant Bonaparte saw that
he was a brother of the " mystic tie," and said ;
" Well, well ! You have an undoubted right
to both your daughter and your opinion." Then,
addressing Judith, he continued : " as for you,
my nightingale, you must not forget your Egyp-
tian friends, and Josephine will always be glad
to see you. Good night."
After Bonaparte had gone, the exasperated
manager came, evidently thinking that by offer-
ing large sums of money he could move the old
man's heart. But all his tempting offers were
refused, and he followed them to the door with
mingled entreaties and denunciations.
Taking a coach, Mordecai and Judith went to
the house of a distant kinsman, where the former
was sojourning. The main apartment wastfltod
up in true Hebrew style, a magnificent seven-
branched chandelier, of solid silver, illuminating
the rich damask curtains and velvet covered
furniture. Here Judith was welcomed by some
of her own people, and treated as a returned
prodigal. At la.st, they retired, and then, in the
solitude of her chamber, tihe thought over the
events of the evening. The fluctuating waves of
faces at the opera house, tlic intoxicating homage
of applause, the sudden apparition of her father,
the thrilling scene, the terrific lecture in her
dressing-room — all passed like summer clouds
across her fevered spirit, and a fearful re-action
commenced.
The next day, after a disturbed sleep, she be-
gan to realize that all her prospects had faded,
and a dark pall enveloped her musical hopes.
Yet, conscience comforted her with approving
voice. What would success, or applause, be to
her, if her father was miserable 7 And she offered
up her powers of song, a willing sacrifice, upon
the altar of filial love.
Madame Bonaparte came to see her every
day, and soothed her with angelic assiduity.
Her father was so very kind, and when he had
learned all that Bonaparte had done, he called
to express his devoted thanks. Of Osmanli, too,
he heard much that called forth his gratitude.
Judith, now that music no longer reigned in her
heart, often thought of her noble-hearted lover.
But he, too, was gone.
One evening, when Mordecai had gone to at-
tend a meeting of his brethren, in a lodge wherein
the " mystic tie " bound Christian and Jew, sol-
dier and civilian, with the bonds of love, a lady
entered the sitting-room. At first she seemed
somewhat embarrassed, and asked :
"Is not Madame Bonaparte here?"
" tihe is not," replied Judith, rising and offer-
ing a seat. " But I expect — "
" Not me," interrupted Josephine, '■ for here I
am, and — why— is it, can it be ? My dear Ma-
dame Wilmot, welcome back!" And the two
friends embraced.
" Thanks, dear Josephine, and I have followed
you here. I am almost delirious with joy, and
have so much to tell you."
"But you have not been to America?"
" No, no ! I found all I wanted in England ;
although I mourn a husband, I have found a son.
But where is he ? Where can I press him to my
heart?"
" Who?"
" My son — Osmanli !"
"Is he your son ?"
" Yes, dearest Josephine. My heart whispered
it, and I have the fullest proofs. But where is
he?"
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MYSTIC BRETHREN.
On the morning of Madame Wilmot's return,
Osmanli awoke, again to find himself incarcer-
ated in his sepulchral dungeon. He had dreamed
— dreamed of the happy hours passed at Cairo,
and Judith, pure as an angel of light, had prom-
ised him that she would see his mother. But
now, as even the recollection of his vision faded
away before the sunlight of reality, the image of
her whom he loved gave place to that of Ma-
dame de Valmont. Her artful wiles — her syren-
like smile, and her fiendish look when Josephine
surprised them at the masked ball — all were em-
bodied in his imagination into a demon, that
haunted him perpetually, and embittered his few
pleasant tlioughts.
The cathedral clock toned eight, and for a
moment interrupted his agony of thought. Then
the awful silence was broken by approaching
footsteps, and soon the door creaked on its rusty
hinges. A key grated in the lock, and then a
man entered. He was dressed as a water-carrier,
although his well patched suit of cotton velvet
had not the cleanly look peculiar to that cla^s.
His long hair fell in uncombed masses over an
unshaven face, and his eyes gleamed with rage.
" Your servant, Cajitain Osmanli," he ex-
claimed, in mocking tones. " You may not rec-
ollect this form, wasted by bearing a proscribed
life, like that of a wild beast, nor may this mis-
erable garb resemble my once brilliant uniform.
But," and the speaker's voice trembled with all
the vehemence of ungoverned passion, "you
cannot forget that you have a long account to
settle with me — me, the man whose love you.
crossed — whose prospects you ruined, andwhorn
you havc'cven thwarted in this den of conspira-
tion ! In short, you may, nay must remo.nber
-Colonel Margry of Egypt — the Alphonscj Mar-
gry who lias a right to control Madame de Val-
mont's heart — the fugitive from justice who has
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
355
fonnd your lair, ami demands satisfaction for all
the wrongs you have done him."
Osmanli, for the first time in his life, trembled-
A hon'id raist seemed to rise around him, from
which glowed the furious and sneering face of
his unmerciful enemy. Unrecovered from the
effects of his rash attempt at suicide, he knew
that he could have but little chance in a struggle
with one who, a single glance sufficed to show,
was endowed with full vigor, and whose features
bore the fearful impress of deadly wrath. He
pressed his hands to his eyes, to shut out the
hateful vision, and to bring back his scattered
senses.
" Come, come," said Margry, with a bitter
sneer, while his brow grew darker, and the red
hue of rage fadedbefore thelividnessof adeeper,
deadlier passion. " Don't hide your pretty eyes,
and play the woman. Here aie two swords —
take one, and we can soon settle our difficulties."
The gallant Mameluke gasped for breatli ; his
heart beat thick and fast, and he endeavored to
rise, but was forced to grasp the post of his bed
for support.
" Trembling coward!" exclaimed Margry, in
a contemptuous tone. " Would that the fair
Jewish friend of General Bonaparte were here,
to witness the pusillanimous bearing of her che-
valier."
This taunt inspired Osmanli with his wonted
daring ; the veins in his forehead swelled, and
casting a look at Margry which was so deadly
defiant that it seemed to scorch even his heated
soul, he shouted :
"Maniac! traitor! Give me a sword, and
defend your craven person."
Margry immediately drew two swords from
a rolled up cloak which he had brought, and
offered one to Osmanli, who clutched it franti-
cally. An instant more, and they were engaged
in deadly combat. Osmanli was an adept with
the weapon, and ere the swords were fairly
crossed, he felt that he was in no danger from
the mad thrusts of his infuriated enemy. But
he judged it best to act wholly upon the defen-
sive, and steadily endeavored to disarm his op-
ponent. The moment came, but no sooner did
Margry feel his sword forced from his grasp,
than with a howl of rage, like that of an infuri-
ated tiger, he drew a pistol. But, at that mo-
ment, a powerful hand seized his arm, the muz-
zle of the weapon was averted from Osmanli,
and the ball went through a door opposite to the
usual entrance.
An unearthly scream echoed the report, and
Margry, with a horror-struck look, rushed out of
tlie room. Osmanli, whose unnatural strength
deserted him the moment it was no longer re-
quired, sank upon his bed again, and saw with
delight his guji.rdian, the Count de Vergennes.
" How is this V exclaimed the count. " Did
this scoundrel presume to attack you in your
defenceless condition V
" He did," replied Osmanli, " and for the first
time in my life, I knew what it was to fear ; but
courage did not desert me, and I — heavens !
"What voice is that V
The count also heard the noise which had at-
tracted Osmanli's attention. It was a stifled
cry of agony, from behind the door which the
pistol-ball had traversed. It was locked within,
but the count wrenched it open, and, to the sur-
prise of both, Madame de Valmont staggered
into the room, and sank upon the floor. She
was dressed in white, and a crimson tide of blood,
flowing from a wound in her side, gave her a
fearful look.
" Mercy, mercy !" she exclaimed, in a tremu-
lous voice. " Cm'se me — hate m.e, but 0, for-
give me !"
The count, aided by Osmanli, placed the un-
fortunate woman on the bed, and the former,
summoning an attendant, despatched him up to
the hospital above them, for a surgeon and a
sister of charity. When the good nun arrived,
he requested Osmanli to accompany him into
another room.
" Listen," said he. " I rescued you from
death as a fellow-mortal. I have cherished you
as a brother, to whom the ' mystic tie ' binds
my heart. And I had hopes that I could enlist
vou into our cause — a cause which involves the
welfare of our nation, nay, of all Christendom.
But T learn to-day from one of my spies who is
connected with the police department, that active
inquiries are being made for you by — "
"By whom?" interrupted Osmanli.
"Your mother !"
"Thank God — thank God!" exclaimed the
young man, in a tone of such reverential grati-
tude that for a moment the count did not inter-
rupt the prayer that evidently ascended from his
heart. He then went on.
"Yes, Osmanli, your mother is now seeking
you, and before her visit to the metropolis, anx-
ious inquiries were made by General Bonaparte,
and by a wealthy Smyrniote Jew, one Mordecai
Fezenzac."
" The father of Judith," murmured Osmanli,
and then the blush of shame mantled his brow.
" Count!" said Madame de Valmont, "listen
to me. I feel the damp dews of death on my
brow, and wish to make some reparation to one
victim of my wicked heart. Will you promise
me that, ere the sun goes down to-night, you will
have Madame Bonaparte assured that I, insti-
gated by a spirit of jealous revenge, seduced this
young man from the paths of duty. Promise
me?"
" I promise, madame," said the count. Then
turning to Osmanli, "Now, captain, you must'
retire. To-night I will take you from this char-
nel-house, and place you among brethren."
Then, pointing to the door, he escorted Os-
manli into the large hall just as the surgeon and
sister of charity approached the chamber where
reposed the suffering, penitent and sad Madame
de Valmont.
******
That same evening, when darkness had cast
her welcome veil on all above ground, the count
came for his protege. Madame de Valmont, he
informed him, was recovering from the effects of
her wound, but he could find no traces of Mar-
gry, who was probably in possession of know-
ledge of some other entrance to the catacombs.
Osmanli, meanwhile, had put on a new uniform,
brought by the attendant, and, wlien he was
ready, the count escorted him to the subterranean
opening leading to the river, where a boat was
in waiting. Two sturdy oarsmen sent them rap-
idly, yet noiselessly along the river, the count,
who sat at the helm, keeping the boat under the
deep shadow of the huge stone quays. Passing
the long gallery of the Louvre, the boat was
brought alongside the landing in front of the
palace of the Tuileries. Here the count, fol-
lowed by Osmanli, stepped on shore, and soon
traversed the Palais Royal, then the focus of
Parisian dissipation. In one of the narrow
streets beyond the Palais, the count stopped at
the door of rather a mean looking house, and
knocked thrice. They were immediately ad-
mitted, and the count led the way up stairs, into
a large, plainly furnished room. At one ex-
tremity of this room was a large double door,
studded with iron knobs, before which stood a
man armed with a drawn sword.
"I seek admittance from my brethren within,
for myself and my companion," said the count.
"They who seek aright ever find," was the
laconic reply of the sentinel.
The count knocked, and a voice from within
asked :
" Who waits without ?"
" I, Henri de Vergennes," replied the count,
" a worthy and well qualified brother, conduct-
ing one whose rights are equal to mine own."
" Who is this strange brother V
"Captain Osmanli, of the Egyptian wind,
that blowetb frcel}', yet sendeth good towards
the East."
" Do you, Henri de Vergennes, vouch for his
worthiness ?"
" With all my heart ; be is true, faithful, and
discreet."
" Will he prove brave, silent, affectionate 1"
" Yes — to every engagement."
Then a deeper toned voice was heai-d, saying :
" Strife, and cruelty, and discord reign upon
the earth, yet there is refuge for the oppressed.
The promised blessing exists, and here there is
peace and joy for the brotherhood — a mystic tie
uniting us all in bonds of love. Prom all parts
of the globe the winds blow, but they all convey
good towards the East, and all recognize one
Grand Ax'chitect, who alone can re-construct
man's ruined heart. Then let the Egyptian
brother enter. He comes from the fountain-
head of the mystic rites — may he find the stream
here unpolluted. Let him enjoy those ceremo-
nies which are to-day as they will be to-morrow
— which will be to-morrow as they were yester-
day— which were yesterday as they always have
been and ever will be."
And scores of voices responded : " So mote it
be." The doors were tlirown open. The senti-
nel, stepping to one side, presented arms, and
the count, taking Osmanli by the hand, entered
the hall.
What transpired within those mystic portals,
we cannot disclose. The veil is never lifced save
to the initiated.
Two hours passed. The doors were thrown
open, and the brethren came out, chatting cor-
dially together. Nor were any ewo apparently
more interested in each other's society, than
Mordecai Fezenzac and Captain Osmanli. The
old Jew had been overjoyed to meet with the
preserver of his daughters life, and he cheered
Osmanli's heart with the information that Ma-
dame Bonaparte had received the exculpating
message sent by Madame de Valmont.
" So come," said he, " and join us at the sup-
per-table. I will warrant you a welcome from
Judith, and you may find some one else who will
be glad to see you."
" Go, my friend," joined in the Count de Ver-
gennes. " You had at any rate better not ap-
pear in public until your name is taken from the
official list of dead or deserted, where it must
have figured since your bath. I have asked a
brother here, who is a clerk in the war depart-
ment, to see that you are enregistered among the
sick to-morrow; but to-night, keep quiet. And
now good-by."
" Adieu, preserver and friend," replied Os-
manli. "But can I not see you again?"
" Conspirators must be secret in their move-
ments. 0 ! 'tis a sad thing to be thus in arras
against our own country, but the right divine to
rule must be sustained. At any rate, when you
^dsh to sec me, come to No. 17 ruelle do Notre
Dame, and show this ring to the bar-maid." As
he spoke, he drew a rich jewelled ring from his
finger, and handed it to Osmanli. They then
separated, he to return to his work, whilst Os-
manli walked home with the father of Judith.
It was a lovely night, though somewhat cool,
and Fezenzac consented, after urgent solicita-
tion, to wear the large mUitary cloak of his com-
panion. The streets were crowded witli the
light-hearted Parisians, making it often difficult
to move along the narrow sidewalk. At one
corner, where there was a dense crowd, Osmanli
passed before the Jew, to clear the way for him,
but scarcely had he done so, when he heard a
gurgling cry. Fezenzac grasped him around the
body, and Osmanli, so soon as he could disen-
gage himself sufficiently to turn around, saw to
his horror that the old man had been stabbed.
The hilt of a knife protruded from his breast,
and the blood spouted forth in torrents.
" Seize the assassin !" " murder !" " murder !"
was cried all around. And in an instant Os-
manli found himself a prisoner, upbraided by the
assembled multitude as a murderer. In vain
did he assert his innocence. He was carried be-
fore a justice of peace, where at least a score of
eager witnesses testified that he had stabbed the
old man. One added to his guilt by swearing
that he was a deserter. It was apparently a
clear case, and again the unfortunate young man
found himself the inmate of a prison, under sus-
picion, too, of having basely murdered the father
of his early love.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE DEAD BANKER.
Meanwhile, Madame Wilmot narrated the
principal events of her journey to Judith and
Josephine. "Arriving in London," she said,
" I found ample documents, informing me that
ray lamented husband had espoused the royal
cause in the American revolutionary struggle,
and bad been shot at the siege of Charleston.
But, among the papers found on his person, that
which most interested me was a letter from ray
father, stating that I was the mother of a son,
and that he should send the infant, with a nurse,
to America. Then there was another letter, da-
ted at Havre, and stating that the nurse and
child had sailed, a few days previous, on board
the ' Champlain,' Captain Howe.
" Howe, I thought, was an English name, and
my lawyer suggested advertising for him. This
was done, and in a few days I had the satisfac-
tion of seeing the old tar, at Greenwich Hospital.
He distinctly remembered the babe, for they
were taken prisoners in the Bay of Biscay by an
Algerine cruiser, and sold into slavery. For
some years they were the property of one master,
but at his death the lad was sold to an agent
who was recruiting for the Mamelukes — "
"The Mamelukes ?" interrupted Josephine;
" can it be possible that — "
" It is possible. Why go into tedious details ;
but I will say at once, Osmanli is my son. And
0, how I long to clasp him to my heart. But,
Judith, you look sad. No ill has happened to
my noble boy, I hope 1"
Just then heavy footsteps were heard on the
stairs without, and in a few moments the door
was opened, and a party of the police entei-ed,
bearing the wounded Fezenzac on a litter. His
eyes were closed, his face wore the ashy paleness
of death, and his garments were stained witli
gore. Judith, springing to her feet, gazed with
speechless horror, and Madame Wilmot could
only ask :
" What means this ?"
" Why, madarae," replied the sergeant, " this
old gentleman was a walking along the street,
just do^-n here, with a deserter, and the rascal
stabbed him. One of my men was on hand, and
secured the murderer, and as we found some
letters in the old gentleman's pocket bearing his
address, we just brought him home. I have sent
for a doctor, and the sooner you can get him in
bed the better."
Madame Bonaparte immediately directed them
how to arrange the poor sufferer, whilst Madame
Wilmot soothed Judith. Soon did the maiden
curb her wretchedness, and, when the surgeon
had pronounced his hopeless verdict, she went
and sat by her fatiier's bedside, in a mute agony
of tearless grief. Josephine felt obliged to re-
tura, but Madame Wilmot, with several Israclit-
ish friends watched around the dying bed. Time
sped slowly along, to the monotonous tickings
of a large clock, and all sat absorbed in thought,
in momentary expectation that the pulse of life
would cease its beat.
Towards morning, he restlessly turned his
head several times, and then murmured " Os-
manli !" All started to their feet, and Madame
Wilmot's heart beat fast with conflicting emo-
tions.
" Save me," he continued, at brief intervals ;
" sare me, as you saved Judith ! Brother Os-
manli, keep off the assassin ! Ah ! that knife —
pull it forth, Osmanli. Judith is in waiting for
us. Judith."
" Here I am, father," said she, in as composed
a voice as possible, and took him by the hand.
When Mordecai felt the pressure of his daugh-
ter's hand, his eye brightened, and he made a
faint effort to rise. But the vital current moved
too sluggishly to second his wishes, and Judith
knew by the icy coldness of the hand which
grasped hers, that the fountain was almost dry.
Life remained, but a dark cloud gradually envel-
oped his soul, as it fluttered like an autumn leaf
after a killing frost. Occasionally he would
open his glassy eyes, and gaze affectionately
upon the child of his love, as if grateful for her
devotion, but his utterance failed him. Day
dawned, and just as the sun shone in at the cur-
tained window, he heaved a deep sigh, and
then, with a slight convulsive shudder, gave up
the ghost.
Judith threw herself across the lifeless form of
her beloved parent, and embraced him again
and again, until Madame Wilmot gently with-
drew her from the spot. The Israelites present
then arranged the body in their own peculiar
manner, binding a mystic band around the tem-
ples, and placing under the head a small package
of earth from Jerusalem. They then emptied
all the pitchers in the room, lest the angel of
destruction should have cleansed his sword in one
of them, and tearing their garments, they prayed
that the deceased might pass quietly into the
spiritual valley of Jehoshaphat.
To say that Judith was agonized, miserable,
were a faint expression of the dismay which took
possession of her soul. Man, when the chains
which bind his affections are rudely snapped
asunder, can gird his heart with pride, and stand,
scathed yet not blighted, a monument of stern
despair. But when woman has the tendrils of
her heart broken, the sundered fibres bleed, and
the torn affections are scattered wide. Poor
Judith ! What was earth to her, now that her
revered father was no longer living to counsel
and guide her through its paths, even though
they were flowery and joyous.
But she bad but a short time for melancholy
contemplation, or for profiting by the cordial
sympathy of Madame Wilmot. Justice, stem
and implacable, demanded her attendance at the
inquest held on her father's remains, and, with
a deep shudder at the idea of seeing the mur-
derer, she repaired to the chamber of death.
[to be continued.]
In thenatm-eof man, the humblest or the hard-
est, there is something that lives in all of the beau-
tiful or fortunate, which hope and desire have ap-
propriated, even in the vanities of childish dreams.
35(5
GLEASON'S PICTC^RIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE HUNTING SEASON.-ECONOMY OF THE KENNEL.
VIEW OF THE KENNEL.
DOG TRAINING AND KEEPING.
We give on this and the opposite page a series of views illus-
trative of the mode of dog training and keeping in England.
These matters are not so minutely managed with us, but the
" economy of the kennel" will interest our readers. It is won-
derful to what perfection this training is brought; and ourAmeri-
ican backwoodsmen — the only chiss in this country who have a
use for hounds — will hardly believe that these animals can be
taught to answer with a keenness near akin to reason. The ken-
nel, the day-yard, and the keeper's house sufficiently bespeak their
purposes. Nimrod (Mr. Apperley) has vividly described the next
scene — drawing in to feed. "See," he says, " ."lixty couple of
hounds, all hungry as tigers, standing aloof in their yard — a^ is
the practice in some kennels — and without even hearing, much
less feeling, the whip, not daring to move until the order is given
10 them to move. And what is the order given '? "Why, at the
words ' Come over, bitches,' or ' Come over, dogs/ every hound
of each individual sex comes forward, as the sex it belongs to
may be called for, leaving those of the other sex in their places.
Th(n the act of drawing them to the feeding-troughs is an exceed-
ingly interesting sight. Often, with the door wide open, and the
savory meat in their view, the huntsman has no use for his whip,
havirg nothing to do but to call each hound by his name, whiclij
of course, he readily answers to. The expression of countenance,
too, at this time, is well worthy of notice ; and that of earnest so
licitat'on, of entreaty — we might almost say of importunity — can-
not be more forcibly displaved ihan in the face of a hungry hound
THE DAY YARD.
keeper's house, the "walk-out.*
GLEASON'S PICTOniAL DllAWING ROOM COMPANION.
357
DRAWING m TO FEED.
awiiiting his turn to be drawn. He appears absolutely to watch
the lips of the huntsman, anticipating his own name." The full
duties of the huntsman and his whips we shall not be expected to
detail ; but of that other important personage, the feeder, some
few words may be said : and they will suffice to convey a general
idea of the kennel routine of his superiors in office. The feeder's
business is to prepare the flesh and oatmeal stirabout; to kill and
skin the animals condemned to his shambles ; to keep clean and
in good order the kennel throughout ; and to have in readiness at
their stated times the meals. He is generally something of an
original in his way, and, as a matter of course, very learned in
all the mysteries of health and disease in the hounds for which he
cooks. Supposing it to be a hunting day, he has all ready for
the hunting liouads, wliich, if the meet is not too distant, generally
return to kennel at four or five o'clock in the evening ; notice
having been given of their approach by a general chorus of the
* hounds at home, frequently heard in full song some minutes be-
fore the huntsman's horn. This is as singular a circumstance
as it is common, for Iiounds whose kennel is in a quiet place to
challenge the returning hounds at a distance from two to three
miles. On their arrival, the huntsman and whips give up their
horses to the helpers, and proceed at once to feed. It is beautiful'
to see eighteen or twenty brace of hounds, hungry and unfed since
the preceding morning, and after a hard chase to boot, wait the
calling of their names to " draw." Each has his individual mode
of expressing his impatience. The older ones sit quietly, and all
that escapes them is a low whine from a watery mouth. The
younger ones are excessively fidget)', but each waits till called to
feed. They certainly make short work when at it ; and the whole
pack are full to repletion in a space of time which would as-
tonish a gourmand. After feeding, they are let into one of the
day-yards to clean themselves of the splashes of food with which
they are plentifully endowed. This office one does for the other
in ail kindness, and with a sensible enjoyment of what may be
called their dessert. After this, they are walked out for a quarter
of an hour or so, and then to bed. The lodging-house is well
paved, thoroughly drained and ventilated, and supplied with
raised benches, well littered with fresh dry straw, on which the
hounds sleep — grouping themselves in the most singular manner.
There appears to be a well understood law amongst them as to
right of bench room ; so that, with the occasional occurrence of a
LITTER OE PUPt\
growl and snap, the peace of the community is well kept. In the
daytime they have the use of a dry, paved yard, well supplied
with water. The hounds in kennel are exercised thrice a day,
and it is droll to see how they look for the usual " walk out " at
its stated time — their airing-ground being a dry field, witli, if pos-
sible, a southern aspect. Here they break off into groups, and
enjoy themselves as they will for twenty minutes or half an hour,
when they again return to kennel. In one of the remaining illus-
trations we see a litter of pups. Their proper treatment requires
that they be fed as soon as they will take nourisliment ; which, if
they are numerous, will save the mother, and forward their own
growth. Allow them air and room for exercise ; and mark them
in a way agreeable to fancy, so that each Utter should be known
by the register kept of these matters. When a month old, their
dew-claws are taken off; and such breeders as stem their dogs at
the same time take off the smallest piece of the tip of the tail.
The bound forms one of the varluties of spaniels, and is distin-
guished by its long, smooth and pendulous ears. England, per-
haps, excels all other countries in her breed of bounds, not only
from the climate being congenial to them, but also from the great
attention paid to their breeding and management. The points of
a good hound are thus laid down : — his legs should be perfectly
straight, his feet round and not too large, his shoulders back, his
breast rather wide than narrow, his chest deep, his back broad,
his head small, his neck thin, his tail thick and bushy. As to
the size, most sportsmen have their prejudices, some preferring
them small, and others large ; for general service, however, it ap-
pears that a medium is best. It is very essential that all tne
hounds in a pack should run well together; to attain which they
should be of the same sort and size. The management of hounds
may be considered as a regular system of education from the time
they are taken into the kennel. The feeding of a kennel of fox-
hounds, as represented in our series of pictures, is one of the most
striking illustrations of the power of training to produce complete
obedience. The beagle is the smallest of the dogs kept for the
chase, and is only used in hunting the hare, and, though far infe-
rior in speed to that animal, will follow, by its exquisite scent,
with wonderful perseverance, till it fairly tires the hare. The
harrier differs from the beagle in being somewhat larger, as wfll
as more nimble and vigorous; it is also used exclusively in the
chase of the hare. This series is altogether a very interesting one.
FEEDING THE PACK.
358
GLEASON'S riCTORTAL DP.AWING UOOM COiSIPANION.
[Written for Glooflon's Pictorial.]
MKIIENTO MORI.
TJy EDWARD BTAOa.
When the honrt itt hMII, (ind tranquil
(h the mind iis hif'nnt'H drtiiim ;
And (i.H biiglit iiH climo Elysian,
All the outward world doth Hoom |
Oft the tlioiifjht, like sonio deep shadow
Passinff o'or the lundi<cftpo, when
Thfirc'fi been no sign of cloud appearing,
Comes, unbid, to counsel then.
TVlien the heart is pained, and troubled
Ts the mind, like Joseph's dream ;
And ns dark as Egypt a blackneafl,
All the outward world doth eeem ;
Oft the thought, like sweet doliveranco
Promised to the captive, when
llis prison gate shall wide fly open,
Comes, invited, welcome then.
When tho Goul is filled with pleasure,
Sparhling as tho wine-cup free ;
And its joys do seem as boundless
As the waters of the sea;
Oft the thought, like some wrecked vessel,
Coming on the vision when
Had been unnoticed its approaching,
Comes to warn, intrusive, then.
When the soul is filled with evil,
Turbid aa a cup of lees ;
And its woe without a eoundiog,
As the water of the sea's ;
Oft the thought, like reef e'er dreaded,
Rising to the voyager, when
He starts from slumber and beholds it,
Comes, and only frightens then.
[Written for Gleason's PictariaJ.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. XIII.
BT DK. JEHOME V. C. SMITH.
CUSTOMS IN CONSTANTINOPLE.
While walking about the city, threading my
way through narrow streets, strange sights were
perpetually presented, so unlike the ordinary
occurrences in European towns, that it is diffi-
cult to make rapid progress. Such is the influ-
ence of novelty, combined with an instinctive de-
sire to examine each oddity in detail, a week
soon passes away in Constantinople.
Horses are kept saddled near the landing-
places of the Bosphorus, in various thorough-
fares, where they can be hired very reasonably
for an excursion. They were not usually ac-
companied by tlaeir owners or grooms, as at
Beyroot, in Syria. There they never trust
strangers with their animals far out of sight.
Turkish horses are spirited, tender on the bit,
thoroughly broken, and, to my taste, far prefer-
able to donkeys for trips in the neighborhood.
The multitude is ordinarily on foot. Officers,
gentlemen quite out of reach of the vulgar
throng, either by their position or wealth, are
frequently met on horseback, which is the only
way of going abroad, unless they take to their
feet like the masses, moving about in solid
columns.
If ladies ever appear on the saddle, it so hap-
pened that I did not see them. At Pera there is
one street wide enough, by adroit driving, to al-
low an ugly cart to pass along, filled with fe-
males, called an arabat. It is drawn by oxen,
conducted by a barelegged fellow who manages
his team with peculiar tact. A drawing is in-
troduced to show how the carriage is constructed,
occupied and drawn. All the women are closely
veiled, of course, sitting on the bottom. The
jolting is fully equal to that of a Western New
York wagon, passing over a pole bridge.
These arabats are frequently met on the way
to the outskirts of the city, to some favorite
country place, the sweet waters, etc , gaily dress-
ed with ribbons, and even the horns of the oxen
serve for the support of long streamers.
[For picture of an Aiabafc, see page 368.]
Although the faces of the select party are prop-
erly secured, they contrive to see through the
gauze coverings very distinctly, and chat and
laugh with a heartiness, as the ugly machine
rumbles along over the rough pavements, as
though there was actual enjoyment in taking an
airing in an ox cart.
Another common mode of riding out, is to
get into a idelxi — a coarse, heavy coach, drawn
by one horse, led by a servant. Many of them
are elaborately gilded. Being without seats,
ladies sit fiat on the floor, facing each other.
As the side door has no glass window or blind,
they seem to manifest a gratification in witness-
ing the living panorama of the streets.
Not unfrcquently, tho occupants of a telcka
pop tlicir heads out to stare an infidel in the
face, wliicli affords an opportunity for showing
their brilliant khol painted eyelids.
Nature has bestowed upon tfic imported ladies
— Circassians and Georgians — tbe finest of faces,
and beauty of expression, which, heightened by
art, make it no every day f^-at to look one of
them directly in tlic eye.
Groups of beauties may be seen in fine weath-
er a little beyond the reach of noise and coni'ii-
sion inseparable from the slir of nearly a million
of inhabitants, quietly seated under the s.iade
of a tree, chatting, or moving in a very small
circle about those who arc lounging on bits of
carpeting. Servants are invariably near at hand,
and such is the vigilance with which ladies are
watched, that it rarely happens they fi^el quite
secure enough to wholly uncover their faces.
To expose them, would be a scandal not easily
overlooked. Their heads have the appearance
of being bandaged ; but Jhc material is perfectly
gossamer in texture, and quite transparent, so
that all their beauties are actually heightened by
the very process devised for concealing them.
Female dress appears to a stranger to be al-
ways the same in Constantinople, among those
regarded as ladies. The extreme lightness, uni-
formity of pattern, color, even to their yellow
slippers, is a marked peculiarity. They are not
tall, but of medium size and height, but inclined
to fatness. A life of indolence, and that chiefly
in a reclining posture ; living on sweatmcats,
fruits, drinking milk, and being wholly freed
from mental anxiety, conduces to this physical
condition. Their longevity, as far as has been
ascertained, is not remarkable.
Under all circumstances, in door and out, the
floor is where all the Orientals seat themselves
— or as near the earth's surface as possible.
Thus men and women in the mosque, in their
own houses, abroad for pleasure in the green
fields, gazing on a destimctive conflagration, lis-
tening to a story teller, watching the bewitching
gestures of a dancing girl, or simply smoking
away life, without care or thought for the future,
or regrets for the past, they must be fiat down
near the ground. Of course, the rank and pe-
cuniary ability of an individual determines the
quality of the material between him and the dirt.
A straw mat answers for one, a Persian rug for
another, a yard of stair carpeting for a third.
It did not occur to me to examine the interior
of the royal box — a conspicuous construction in
all the first class mosques, where the Sultan as-
cends by stairs and goes through his devotions
unseen — with reference to ascertaining whether
he sits on the floor as his subjects do.
As in Egypt and Palestine — in fact, through-
out all Asia Minor, wherever I have travelled —
a chair, stool, or a substitute for them, are quite
unknown as articles of furniture. If they mount
an elevation, as a tnink for example, their legs
are drawn up under them, and thus the position
is precisely what it would have been on the
floor.
When an Arab camel driver becomes fatigued
by walking at the side of his patient beast, the
posture of ease, when mounted on the saddle, is
to coil up his limbs, and convert the calves of
both legs into a sort of cushion.
There is scarcely a mechanical pursuit in
which the artisan does not have that national
attitude. Hundreds of pipe-makers may be seen
in the bazaars manufacturing mouthpieces and
long stems, in turning lathes, which are scarcely
six inches above the floor. The turner sits on
the floor, whirls the thing to be turned backward
and forward with a bow in the right hand, and
holds the handle of the chisel in the left foot,
guiding the cutting edge with his toes !
Shopkeepers, accountants, clerks in offices and
public functionaries are all down on the same
low level, gracing the locality in a court of law
with the name of divan. I once saw a judge on
the bench in his stocking feet, using his knee for
a writing-desk.
Musicians take the floor, too. Their wretched
music is made worse than it need be, owing to
the extreme difficulty of properly managing
some of their instruments in a sitting posture.
An exception is found to this general rule in re-
gard to musicians, however, in military bands.
But left 1o themselves, they would instinctively
settle down into the most comfortable attitude
known to them — making a cushion of their ex-
tremities. In short, there is no condition of life
in which a Turk can be placed, that does not
difi'cr essentially from the European. His vir-
tues are Ids own exclusively, and his vices bear
no resemblance to the Christian's. Pic is honest
from principle, and a fiend in the cauflc of his
faith.
Vast numbers of Turkish women arc met in
Constantinople, in yellow morocco hoots, pro-
tected by peaked- toed slippers without heels,
strangely secured against the prying curiosity of
infidels. In the market, too, they press onward
in groups, ins])ecting jewelry, pricing delicate
fabrics, and above all, speculating, no doubt, on
the busy world before them. When thrown o(f
their guard — which is not an unfrequent occur-
rence—the bandage intended to secure all of the
face below tlic eyes, slips quite to the mouth.
And the first glimpse of a man who dares turn his
eyes upon her, reminds them instantly to lift the
silken swathe up to its place. It is, therefore, a
state of vigilance to keep bandaged satisfactorily.
Each and every person who has the ability, is
ambitious to be dressed in the best manner. La-
dies must spend considerable in the ]jurchase of
some of the textures peculiar to their wardrobe,
although the fashion appears to remain the same.
No garment could less interfere with the free-
dom of the body, than those worn by the men.
They are loose, tasteful, and very much add to
the dignified, appearance of those who are well
dressed. Colors are various ; no pervading hue
seems at any time to he the rage. The cut,
however, is ever the same. A close fitting coat,
European pantaloons, with stockings and boots,
came into Turkey when Mahmoud brought about
that unlooked for revolution, the subjugation
and slaughter of the Janizaries. The Turkish
gentlemen, however, the lover of the soil and
the hater of Jews, copies his ancestors, of glori-
ous memory, who planted their banner where it
still remains. Large pantaloons, without but-
tons, held up by a string or a rich silk scarf;
with a scarlet, blue or red outer covering, having
large sack sleeves, a clean white turban and a
freshly shaven head, makes no contemptible
appearance.
[For picture of a Turkish Gentleman, see page 368.]
A distinguished appendage of a handsome
Turk is a bushy coal black beard ; where nature
has provided one, it is nurtured with pride. All
who would like one, have not that felicity. This
sketch exhibits a real character, who barely
coaxes out a little feeble growth of furze on the
upper lip.
No one questions that they dye their beards,
since it is incredible that a nation should be con-
stituted of black-besvrded men, exclusively. I
have seen some with red beard and whiskers,
but they are rare. A color so disagreeable as
they view it, is made intensely black by processes
unknown to us — far more simple than the ex-
pensive preparations used by waning bachelors
amongst us, who aspire to be always young.
Whenever there is a sudden commotion that
brings rapidly together a large number of men
— as for example, the fall from a horse — it affords
a perfect illustration of the character and fitness
of their clothes — giving a striking contrast be-
tween the Foft garments of the rich, with the
coarse and homely coverings of the poor.
A perfect development of the body is never
retarded by the vice of dress with these people,
which is an advantage of the first consideration.
In no country are there fewer distortions or mal-
formations than in Turkey. It is quite remark-
able to see a cripple in the streets of Constanti-
nople; and as for spinal diseases, these very
rarely exist in the humble walks of life, although
females of the lowest orders sustain heavy bur-
dens upon their heads for transportation. Per-
haps it is a labor imposed upon the cervicle and
spinal muscles that conduces both to their
strength, firmness of the bony column, and ex-
emption from forms of disease that appertain to
indolence and closely-fitted garments.
MUSIC A STIMULANT.
Alfieri, often before he wrote, prepared his mind
by listening to music. "Almost all my trage-
dies were sketched in my mind, either in the act
of hearing music or a few hours after," a cir-
cumstance which has been recorded of many
others. Lord Bacon had music often played in
the room adjoining his study. Milton listened
to his organ for his solemn inspirations ; and
music was ever necessary to Warburton. The
symphonies which awoke in the poet sublime
emotions, might have composed the inventive
mind of the great critic in the visions of his theo-
retical mysteries. A celebrated Erench preaclier,
Bordaloue orMassillon, was once found playing
on the violin, to screw his mind up to the pitch,
preparatory to his sermon, whicli, within a short
interval, he was to preach before the Court.
Curran's favorite mode of meditation was with
his violin in his hand ; for hours together would
he forget himself, running voluntaries over the
strings, while his imagination, collecting its
tones, was opening all his faculties for the com-
ing emergency at the bar. — D'XsraeU.
(Written for Ok-iiHon'f) Pictorial.]
HYMN TO THK STARS.
BY OWEK a. WABBEW.
Whftt sing the Htars, as on their way
Tliey Bcuttftr light and glory ?
T<-11 ufl of their inimortJil lay,
'J'oll UH tljoir wondrouH ntory.
Tlioy HiDg on their way, und tbcy all rejoice,
Though fur iind wide ecuttered and lonuly ;
IJut cTor they fling, and their still, smiiU voice
Ifl heard by the npirit only.
They sing of God and his boundless might,
Of hifl wiedoui they Hing, and his glory ;
Of his love, that AIIh all space with light,
And this is their wondrous story.
And will not lie that created them,
And is their destiny weaving,
Uis children crown with a diadem,
0, faithless, unbelieving !
He made us, and in his mighty hand
He led us forth, at even ;
And each, like a star, shall eternally stand,
To gem the crown of heaven !
And since bis love and power can hold
The Bpheres sublime, and lead them.
Shall he not gather to his fold
His straying flock, and feed them?
HOBBYHORSES.
One man's hobby is books which he never
reads. He spends his life, and all his superflu-
ous cash, in the collection of volumes, of wbich
he never peruses more than the title pages. His
shelves are groaning beneath the erudition of all
ages and all countries. He gloats over the pos-
session of the rarest works, and will travel from
one end of the kingdom to the other, for the mere
chance of purchasing a unique specimen to add
to his collection. It would take him a century
to &pell over what he has already amassed ; but
lie never dreams of such a thing — he reads the
catalogue, the inventory of his riches, and no-
thing else; every addition to that is an addition
to his satisfaction, because it is an additional
grace to his hobby. Another man's hobby is
pictures. His mind is profoundly impressed
with the glories of art — the mysterious gloom of
Rembrandt, the savageness of Salvator, the
"con-egiosity of Corregio." He dreams of okl
masters, and haunts the dusty purlieus of War-
dour street and Soho, and hangs about the auc-
tion rooms, and nods his head at Christie at the
cost of tifty pounds a lime. He is learned in
oils and varnishes, and knows "all about me-
gilps and that;" he rises with Raphael, of whom
an "undoubted original" hangs at the foot of his
bed ; he breakfasts with Hobbima, dines with
Rubens, sups with Vandyke, and goes to sleep
with Claude Lorraine. He is never taken in;
not he, he is too good a judge for that ! Is he ?
A third rides a musical hobby, and goes merrily
through the world to the sound of fiddle and
flute, and French horn and double base. He
puffs and scrapes, and blows and tbumps away'
the days of his years upon all manner of instru-
ments ; and his mouth is full of German and
Italian celebrities — of Mozart, of Beethoven, and
Sebastian Bach and Padre Martini, and Al-
brechtsberger and Rhigini, and Cherubini, and
Cianchettini, " and all others that end in ini;"
and Spohr, and Grann, and Droebs, and Eybler,
and Schneider, and a hundred and fifty more,
whom to pronounce were to dislocate one's jaws,
but which to hear were to be rapt in elysium.
His whole life is one song ; and when he sinks
into silence at last, it is with the blessed hope of
a joyful da capo in the land of celestial harmony.
— Ihit's Magazine.
< ^.^ > ■
THE FATHER.
He is the appointed head of the family. He
may rule by love, but it is his right and duty to
rule; and to him, as the monarch of that little
slate, must be the last appeal. Hence he ap-
pears before his children invested with authority
— the divinely appointed representative of law ;
and if he worthily sways the sceptre over his lit-
tle realm, he developes in his children some of
the most desirable traits of character. If love is
one of the elements of family happiness, order
is another; and it is his, in the last appeal, to
support order. If the sympathies and affections
of children should be developed, so should their
spirits of obedience to rightful authority. It is
undoubtedly desirable to raise the mother's au-
thority to the highest degree ; and when the
father is what he should be, and docs what he
should do, she stands invested, in the eyes of her
children, with a power combining an indirect
reverence for the father, wbo appeal's only to
sustain the maternal rule, witb direct obedience
to her own gentleness. — Miss Whittlesey.
THE OLIYE.
In the south of France, I was miserably dis-
appointed with the olive. It is one of the ro-
mantic trees, full of association. It is a Biblical
tree, and one of ihe most favored of the old
Eastern emblems. But what claim has it to
beauty'? The trunk, a weazened, sapless looking
piece of timber, the branches spreading out from
it like the top of a mushroom, and the color,
when you can see it for dust, a cold, sombre,
grayish green. The tree bas no picturesquencss,
no variety. Put it beside the birch, the beech,
the elm, or the oak, and you will sec the poetry
of tho forest and its poorest and most meagre
prose. — Angus Beach,
GLEASON'S PICTOllIAL DRAWI^^G ROOM COMPANION.
359
[TTrltten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SOKG TO NIGHT.
BY GEO. W. DEWET.
The stars bend from th(; azure,
I could reach them where I lie,
And they whisper all the pleasure
Of the sky. — Buchanan Read.
When sinks the sun, and stai- with star
Keeps tryst within the bhssful azure.
The heavens that all day stood afar,
Draw near and woo the soul to pleasure.
Then welcome shadowy Xight, to me,
Whose dreams usurp the realms of sorrow,
With love and starlight let me be
Awhile regardless of to-morrow.
As music in a vocal strain
Unites the words that love hath spoken,
Thy dreams re-link the golden chain
Of hopes which waking cares have broken.
Then come, and let thy veil of sleep
Be cast o'er all the world of sorrow ;
But bring me dreams, and let me keep
A tryst with thee until to-morrow.
Dear, peaceful Night, thy shade to me
Brings nought akin to pain and terror j
And in thy depths I cannot see
The symbols of a world of error.
But, like a life to goodness given,
Thou bring'at relief bo those who sorrow*;
Thy starry hand still leads to heaven,
And points unto a brighter morrow.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE WAY TO WASHIXGTOX.
BY B. PEHLEY POOKE.
Off for the south ! Such is the evident de-
termination of the numerous waterfowl, which
have for the past week been floating along in
unwearied flight through the pathless air. And
why should not I, doomed to ply the feathered
quill with equal industry, also flit for a more
genial clime 1 The answer to the self-proposed
question comes in the shape of a mission from
Mr. Gleason, requesting me to furnish pen and-
ink sketches of what may transpire daring the
coming season at the metropolis, and I am at
once on the way. Not, be it understood, as a
" correspondent," merely re-hashing what I may
find in the newspapei-s, but as a collector of
"waifs," which, when enshrined in the fair pages
of the Pictorial, will edify some, please others,
and leave every reader iu the best of humor !
The way to Washington ! If I was called up-
on to define it, in a national sense, I should re-
ply; "Via Concord!" But having no desire
for the " loaves and fishes," I started this morn-
ing from my country home, raacy miles further
down on the picturesque Merrimac. And it is
the only time of the year when we can leave a
New England homestead without regret. The
forests have thrown otF their gorgeous drapery,
for a meagre brown livery, iu which they shiver
and moan. The golden autumn haze, reposing,
like a benediction, upon the harvest fields, has
been chased away by November's blasts. Gar-
den walks are slumpy, plethoric gobblers fore-
shadow Thanksgiving stuffing, and tiny feet are
disguised in misshapen overshoes. It is the very
time to leave.
Newburyport is the first stopping place ; but
as it has just been portrayed in the " Pictorial,"
with pen and with pencil, I will not add but a
word. Here, until within a year or so, stood
*' ye olde Morse house," where " spiritual demon-
strations " first flourished on this continent. To
use the words of Goodman ]Morse himself, as he
testified under oath : " The two pottes which did
hange in ye chimbly did knocke together very
violentlye for severalle minutes. Moreover ye
andiron did leap into ye big potte and dance,
and leap out againe. and then upon ye tayble,
and there abide. I putt my awle in a cupboard
and fastened ye dore ; anon itt come down ye
chimly, I know not how. We heard a noise at
midnight; arouse and found a grate hogge in ye
house, ye dore being locked — very willing to goe
out." All interested have only to obtain Cotton
Mather's Magnalia, where there is more on the
same subject. " When found, turn down the
leaf, and make a note thereof."
Leaving Newburyport on the Eastern Kail-
road, we pass through the mother town of New-
bury, which, like many a rural matron, is shorn
of wealth, power and estate by its civic offspring.
Here, some two hundred and twenty years ago,
came the most intellectual colony that left the
seagirt isle for a forest home. One family, the
Dummers, left a fine farm for tbe support of an
academy, tlie first established on this continent.
and the place where a "Farm School" should
be. And many of our first minds are descended
from a pastor of the wandering flock, the Rev.
Mr. Parker. Elliot, Mather, Cotton and Phil-
lips were all learned men ; but Parker, who was
an Old Catabridge man, stood pre-eminent for
classical lore. This he once put to good use,
when a few would-te smart parishioners under-
took to "instruct" him in bis duty. Thinking
that he was growing too liberal, they addressed
him a " protest " in our vernacular; he replied
in Latin. They next addressed him in that lan-
guage, and received an answer in Greek. In re-
turn they took the Greek for their communica-
tion, he rejoined in Hebrew. They — by the aid
of a neighboring parson — then resorted to He-
brew, and Mr. Parker, wishing to close the dis-
cussion, sent them an epistle in Arabic. After a
few days interval, the questioners brought back
the last letter, saying : " We do not understand
Arabic." " Why, gentlemen," was the reply,
" do you undertake to instruct me, if you do not
know as much I do ';"
Skimming past the old towms of Rowley and
of Ipswich, we come to Hamilton, where preached,
some half-century since, the learned Doctor Cut-
ler, equally celebrated as a horticulturalist, a
linguist, a Calvinist, and a federalist. And it
was under his direction, that a band of colonists
started from the green in front of Hamilton
church, with a wagon, on which was inscribed :
"For the Ohio." This was the first attempt to
colonize those broad valleys and fertile hills,
which now teem with civilization. A few miles
further on, the railroad intersects the fine farm
once cultivated by the Hon. Timothy Pickering,
a noted politician in his day, who has left as a
monument, long rows of noble evergreens. Hard
by is Wenham Pond — some call it a lake now-
adays— whose crystal waters, in a congealed
state, cool the rare wines of the Oriental nabob,
and the more potent beverages of the Califomians.
Salem, the scene of the first Revolutionary
struggle, and of an insane passion for sustaining
a modem aristocracy of wealth, has charms for
some. But had I wished to tarry thereabouts, I
would have gone down to Marblchead, where
dwell the hardy fishermen, and where, when the
country's flag was not respected on the ocean,
strong arms and stout hearts sprang forward to
defend it.
Nahant is next passed by, stretching out into
the domain of Old Neptune, which is now bor-
dered by the summer residences of the Bostoni-
ans. Then we enter Lynn, called the Paradise
of Saint Crispin and the cordwainers, who have
have the satisfaction — to use the phrase of Tom
Sheridan— of having their handiwork trampled
upon by the beauties of the nation. A salubri-
ous sea-breeze now invigorates the frame, as the
cars gently cross the wide expanse of salt marsh,
and soon the granite shaft on Bunker Hill pro-
claims the vicinity of the capital. Embarking
in the gallant ferry-boat— that once made a pas-
sage to Deer Island in a thick fog — we land in
the metropolis of Massachusetts. Much has
been said to its disparagement of late, but I will
challenge Christendom to show a population
containing more enlightened mechanics and well
educated mercantile men. The chief springs of
action may be found in the stimulants of com-
mercial and manufacturing enterprise, but the
general character of the population is that of in-
tellectual activity, and eagerness for the acquisi-
tion of general and available knowledge. In
point of devotion to the Union, Bostonians, who
still possess the " Cradle of Liberty," acknowl-
edge no superiors; and tliey ever will sustain it,
" Iiowever bounded."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
WO.UAN.
BY T. BUCHANAN BEAD.
A CURIOUS nUEI,.
Two gentlemen of high birth — the one a Span-
iard and the other a German — having rendered
Maximilian many services, they each demanded
as a reward the hand of his daughter Helena
in marriage. The prince, after much delay, told
them that as he entertained an equal respect for
them both, and could not decide in favor of eith-
er, they must determine the matter by their own
addresses ; but as he did not ^vish to risk the loss
of either by suffering them to fight with danger-
ous weapons, he had ordered a large bag to be
brought, and he who succeeded in putting his
rival into it should obtain his daughter. The
strange combat actually took place, in presence
of the whole imperial court, and lasted nearly an
hour. At length the Spaniard yielded; and the
German, who was no other than tbe Baion of
Tethert, having secured him in the bag, laid him
at the emperor's feet, and on the following day
maiTied the beautiful Helena. — Southern Literanj
Gazette.
Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Kor yet the last to lay tho old aside. — Fope.
An angel wandering out of heaven,
And all too bright for Eden even,
Once through the paths of paradiEe
Made luminous tbe auroral air ;
And, walking in His awful gui^e,
Met the Eternal Father there;
Who, when he saw the truant sprite,
Smiled love through all thope bowers of light.
While deep within his tranced spell.
Our Eden tke lay slumbering near,
God saw, and said : " It \s not well
For man alone to linger here.^'
Then took that angel by the hand.
And with a kiss its brow He preFt,
And whispering all His mild command,
He laid it on the sleeper's breast ;
With earth enough to make it humau.
He chained its wings, and called it womar.
And if perchance some stains of mat
Upon her pinions yet remain,
T is but the mark of God's own dust,
The earth-mould of that EJen chain I
AMUSEMEKTS OF GREAT MEN.
Spinoza, after some hours of close study,
would join the family with whom he lodged, and
take part even in the most trivial conversation.
A favorite amusement of his was setting spiders
to fight each other. So much interest did he
take in their combats that he was often seized
with immoderate fits of laughter. Dr. Samuel
Clarke, the Bible commentator, used to amuse
himself by jumping over tables and chairs ; and
Swift, by running up and down the steps of the
deanery. Shelley took great pleasure in making
paper boats, and watching them as they floated
on the water. He used up in this way the fly-
leaves of the books which he took with him on
his pedestrian excursions. On one occasion,
finding himself on the north bank of the Serpen-
tine River, and without any materials for indulg-
ing that peculiar inclination which the sight of
water always inspired, he twisted up a fifty
pound bank note, and committed it to tbe waves.
While Petavius was engaged on his Dogmata
Theologica, his principal recreation at the end
of every second hour was to t^virl his chair for five
minutes. Barclay, the author of the Argeneis,
and D'Andilly, the translator of Josephus, di-
verted themselves during their leisure hours by
cultivating trees and flowers. Tycho Brahe
amused himself with polishing glasses for spec-
tacles ; and Socrates in playing with children.—
Literary Gazette.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
CHRISTOS.
BY JOHN WEISHAMPEL.
Now, did I tune king David's harp of gold,
And knew to chant the eloquence of old ;
With dulcet notes sweet words I would combine,
To breathe out love for Jesus, the Divine!
Come, spirit, come 1 last night who woke me up,
I 'd taste again the beverage of thy cup ;
Thou gavest, then, to these poor lips of mine.
The draught of life from Jesus, the Divine !
0 how depraved my youthful heart bag been,
To hold such sacred happiness within;
In speechless gratitude would I resign
My heart and iOvX to Jesus, the Divine !
1 cannot sing, T know not how to speak,
With pleasure full, in rapture am I weak j
0 for a voice I kind seraph, lend me thine,
To sing the love of Jesus, the Divine I
INDIAJV AND EUROPEAN ORATORY.
An Indian's delivery, when speaking, is delib-
erate, slow and monotonous, almost as if think-
ing aloud, and the punctuations are very strong-
ly marked, and very long; their action is very
fine, and they use a great deal of it. They dis-
play a favorable contrast to European orators,
in never interrupting one another by word or
look, even though the speaker may be uttering
sentiments quite opposed to those of his audi-
ence, or even things they all know to be untrue,
and could refute ; still he is always listened to
with apparent respect and attention, and when
he has sat down, although, perhaps, there may
be a dozen who are burning to contradict, or
agree with him, they sit a few minutes, as if
meditating on what had been said, and then rise
with the greatest deliberation, always giving way
to the eldest. Certainly a council of Indian
chiefs is generally conducted with more decorum
and self-respect than most public meetings in
more civilized countries. — Sullivan's Rambks in
America.
milTlNG AND ACTING.
Chatham commenced his career in the intrigues
of a camp and the bustle of a mess-room ; where
be probably learnt that the way to govern others,
is to make your will your warrant, and your
word a law. If he had spent the early part of
his life like Mr. Burke, in writing a treatise on
the sublime and heautiful, and in dreaming over
the abstract nature and causes of things, he
would never have taken the lead he did in the
British Senate. — Literanj Scraps.
ANCIENT HOSPIT.UilTY.
It was once tlie universal custom to place ale
or some strong liquor in the chamber of an hon-
ored guest, to assuage his thirst, should he feel
any on awakening in the night, which, consider-
ing that the hospitality of that period often
reached excess, was by no means unlikely. It is
a current story in Teviotdale, that in the house
of an ancient family of distinction, much addict-
ed to the i*rcsbyterian cause, a Bible was alwaj'^s
put into the sleeping apartment of the guests,
along with a bottle of strong ale. On one occa-
sion there was a meeting of clergymen in the
vicinity of the castle all of whom were invited to'
dinner by the worthy baronet, and several abode
there that night. According to the fashion of
the times seven of the reverend guests were al-
lotted to one large barrack-room, which was
used on such occasions of extended hospitality.
The butler took care that the divines were pre-
sented, according to custom, each with a Bible
and a bottle of ale. But after a little consulta-
tion among themselves, they are said to have re-
called the domestic just as he was leaving the
apartment. '-My friend," said one of the ven-
erable guests, "you must know that when we
meet together, the youngest minister reads aloud
a portion of Scripture to the rest ; only one Bi-
ble therefore is necessary; take away the other
six, and in their place bring six more bottles of
ale." — Sir Walter Scott.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
FAITH IN DEATH.
BY W. A. FOGG.
She faded as the summer flowers
Fade from the fields away ;
Her spirit passed to heaven upon.
The wing of parting day.
No shadow rested on her brow,
She uttered not a sigh ;
Gently she drew her parting breath,
And Boftly closed her eye.
And still we watched her, deeming not
She'd drawn her pai-ting breath ;
We knew not that her heart was chilled
By the cold hand of death.
But soon his snow-white seal was set
Upon her beauteous brow;
A voice came whispering to om- hearts :
" She is an angel now."
Sadly we placed her in her shroud.
And wreathed her form in flowers ;
Placed her beneath the coffin lid—
A bitter task was ours.
Sadly we saw her borne away
Slowly upon her bier ;
Placed her beneath the cold, cold Bod,
But could not shed a tear.
For well we knew that she had gone
Where Borrow is unknown ;
Where, o'er the pure and happy heart,
No shadow e'er is thrown.
And well we knew that when the etorms
Of this drear life are o'er,
Within that blissful spirit land,
We'd meet to part no more.
LADY RALEIGH.
Tho gallant Sir Walter Raleigh, in daily ex-
pectation of his being executed, earnestly en-
deavored to preserve his estate of Sherburne, to
his wife and child. To Carl, Earl of Somerset,
who had begged it for himself, and who was the
rising favorite and minion of King James I, Sir
Walter addressed a letter, beseeching him *' not
to begin liis first building upon the ruins of the
innocent — not to cut down the tree with the fruit,
and undergo the curse of them that enter the
field of the fatherless." The letter produced no
effect upon the parasite ,■ and to the solicitations
of the Lady Raleigh to the king, upon her knees,
with her children, the vile sovereign, the first of
the Stuarts, only answered ; "I niuu have the
land — I mun have it for Car !" This excellent
lady obtained permission to reside with her hus-
band in the Tower, where, in the first year of
his imprisonment, she bore him her second son,
Carew, after a lapse of ten years ; and shared
his adversity and sorrows, during a period of
twelve years, between his trial and his being put
to death. She was very beautiful ; faithfully at-
tached to her ill-fated partner, who was eighteen
years older than herself; and testified her affec-
tion for his memory, by remaining unmarried
until her death, which happened twenty-nine
years after his execution. — Starling.
JOHN BULL'S GULLIBILITY.
John Bull would as soon give up an estate as
a bug-bear. Having been once gulled, they are
not soon uvgulkd. Tliey are too knowing for
that. Nay, they resent the attempt to undeceive
them as an injury. Tbe Prench apply a bril-
liant epithet to the most vulnerable characters ;
and thus gloss over a life of ti-eacheiy or infamy.
With them the immediate or last impression is
everything; with us, the first, if it is sufficienily
strong and gloomy, never wears out ! — Hazlitt.
< ^a— * ~
LADIES OF THE THREE RINGD03IS.
If you want to look upon woman such as Ru-
bens painted, seek her in England, for there is
beauty's home. If you would have wit, and
gayety, and loveliness combined, I'll back "ould
Ireland" against the world for that. But if you
would avoid being regularly bedevilled, and that,
too, before you ever dreamed you were in dan-
ger, keep out of Scotland, " if you love me." —
Ma.ai-ell's ]Var.d(:r!nns.
360
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
PUBLIC JtUILDIMGB.
The picture below represents the " United
Sciifes Life Insurance and Trust Company's
Bnil(lin<:," including; Vv. Jayne's and the " Led-
^'cr Buihlings." These betiutiCul Hti'ucturcH oc-
cupy a busy part of the city of Phihulelphia,
forming t)ie pouth-east and soulh-wcst eornerti of
Third and Chestnut streets. In the eon.struc-
tion of the buihlinj; occupied by the United
States Life Insurance Company on the south-
east comer, the architect lias judiciously adapted
his ]>hin to the limited spaco allotted him, and
has designed the exterior in a tasteful and sci-
entitic manner. It is of brown stone, in the
Italian stylo, and is five stories hi^h. The
"United States Life Insuriineo Com))any*' is
one of the most prominent institutions of that
city, of whOiC perfectly solvent and substantial
This is the case witli the United States Life
Insurance Company, of I'hiladelphia. The
l)oard of directors of this institution arc known
as business et^^ntlemen of that city, whose hif^h
character fully wunants all that may be expect-
ed or desired. Dr. Jayne's building forms a
prominent feature in our picture. It is built of
Quincy granite, of inne j^otliie architecture, and
altogether is one of the most massive and im-
posing structures in the city. In depth it is I'iG
feet, the main front being on Chestnut street,
running back to Carter's Alley. The ground
alnne cost ^144 000, and the expense of the
building itself, from its deep base to its topmost
pinnacle, "vviU considerably exceed ^:I50,U00.
The height of the building to tlie top of the cu-
pola is 156 feet. The Ledger Building on the
corner of our picturo forms the foreground.
other business increased, the buildings were nat-
urally extended along the Delaware, and now
reach from the lower part of Southwark to the
upper part of Kensington, near four miles, and
from one river to the other. The houses exhibit
an appearance of neatness, uniformity imd com-
modiousness, and most of them arc ornamented
with wliite marble steps and window sills. Sept.
5, 1774, the members of tlic first congress con-
vened at Philadel|)hia, where they adopted that
celebrated declaration of rights, which may be
considered the preface to the declaration of inde-
pendence. Within two years after, the etermil
separation of the United States from England
was decreed by that augusthody, and proclaimed
to the people from the state house. Congress
continued to sit at Philadelphia until the ap-
proach of the enemy, at the close of the autumn
of about sixty miles, and the sum annually paid
for the use of the water is upwards of $00,000.
The experience of years has shown that the
power U sullieicnt to raise many times as much
water as the city can possibly require for its con-
sumption, and, conscfiuently, that there is a sur-
plus power applicable to other purposes. The
provision against destruction by tire, in Phila-
delphia, is excellent. There arc twenty-eight
engine companies and sixteen hose companies,
and the sum of 1^5000, appropriated by the city
councils, is usually distributed among these com-
panies annually. In many resjiccts, Philadel-
phia particularly resembles Boston, not as re-
gards the laying out of the city, for while tho
former is one of the most regular in the matter
of its streets, the latter is the most irregular in
the Union. But there is the same neatness and
THIRD STREET, PHILADELPHIA, SHOWING THE LEDGER, AND JAYNE S BUILDINGS.
character the public have the most abundant and
satisfactory assurance. The greatest interest
has been, within a few years past, awakened in
relation to this class of insurance otlices, whose
especial object it is to secure families against the
misfortune and destitution which too frequently
follow the death of those upon whom reliance
has been placed. The head of a family, by
means of the security afforded by a "life insur-
ance policy," when called upon by death to leave
the loved and dependent ones, may feel an inex-
pressible consolation in knowing that their wel-
fare and support have been provided for. Tliis is
a great and reasonable coubolation to the dying,
but its value, of course, depends altogether upon
the character of the institution. If its solvency
is ample, then it is in reality a great matter.
This is, indeed, of so much importance, that we
cannot too fre(|ucntly or too earnestly commend
those associations of whose entire solvency and
permanent character there can be no question.
This building was erected in 1845. The paper
was established in March, 183G, and has risen to
a circulation of 50,000 copies daily. It was the
first penny paper in Philadelphia; published
and owned by Swain, Abell & Simmons, They
have eight of Hoe's cylinder presses, capable of
throwing off about 18,000 impressions per hour.
The proprietors have also a weekly paper,
and in addition a daily and weekly paper in
Baltimore called the Sun. They own the large
and beautiful iron Sun Building at Baltipiorc,
also several large tracts of coal land in Schuyl-
kill county, and several large valuable buildings
in other parts of the city. — The name of the
city is composed of two Greek words, — philos, a
friend, and ade/pfios, a brother. The city was
founded by William Penn, in the year 1G82.
The original city was a parallelogram, extend-
ing west about two miles from the Delaware,
beyond the Schuylkill, and north and south a
little more than a mile. As conimerco and
of 1776, compelled them to retire to Baltimore.
The city fell into the possession of the British
forces Sept. 26, 1777, and they occupied it until
the 18th of June following. During the remain-
der of the war, it happily escaped the ravages of
hostile operations. It was al^o the seat of the
state government imtil the year 1800. Institu-
tions for the relief of the unfortunate, sick and
helpless abound, at the head of which is the
Pennsylvania hospital, which was founded in
the year 1750. In 1819, the project of dam-
ming the Schuylkill, and erecting the works at
Pairmount, was commenced, the whole cost of
which was in 1824, $432,512, and the entire
amount expended on the successive operations,
$1,443,585. The consumption, in the summer
months, is about- 3,000,000 gallons for twenty-
four hours, and the reservoirs will contain a
supply for ten days, at that rate. The iron
pipes, through which tho water is conveyed to
the city and districts, make, together, an extent
evident cleanliness about the streets in the city
of brotherly love, that is always evinced in our
own city; and to our mind the inhabitants also
largely share in the same general elements of
character, thrift, respectability and quiet unob-
srrusiveness. In the matter of current literature,
Philadelphia and Boston arc twin sisters, and far
exceed other cities in the Union as it rot^ardi
this matter. The arts and sciences, aNo, are
largely appreciated and cultivated in either city,
as is well known. Our artist, Mr. Dcvereux, has
given us a faithful and reliable view of ibis
thoroughfare of the Quaker city, and the public
can depend upon its aocuracy. Our readers will
appreciate the sketch which we give above, and
will be pleased to know that our artists will he
kept constantly busy in various parts of tho
country, to transcribe in the same truthful man-
ner, all loca'ities of general interest, and aU
scenes and local occurrences calculated to in
struct and amuse our army of subscribers.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
361
PRESEjVTATIOIV of PLATE.
We have engraved this week an excellent re-
presentation of the magnificent Service of Plate
presented bj the artists of the United States to
F. Gleason, proprietor of the Pictorial, in a very
flattering letter from the Committee of Presenta-
tion, Messrs. Chapin, of New York, Devercux,
of Philadelphia, and Manning, of Boston, which,
with our answer thereto, will be found below.
This splendid service, which was manufactured
expressly for the parties by Messrs. Ball, Black
& Co., of New York, well known as the most
extensive dealers and manufacturers in gold and
silver plate in this country, at a cost of ©1000, is
the same pattern and was made by the same
artist who made the service for E. K. Collins,
Esq., of the Collins line of Atlantic steamers,
which attracted such marked attention at the
World's Fair, in London. When that set was
unpacked, an English manufacturer, who, with
others, was anxiously waiting to see it, exclaim-
ed: " Well, it certainly is a splendid affair, and
The drawing which we present to our readers
was taken from a series of daguerreotypes taken
by Meade Brothers, of New York, and presents
as faithful a representation as can be given on
wood of the appearance of the service. It may
be seen at any time at our office, where our
friends and readers arc cordially invited to call
and examine it. Wc, of course, are highly flat-
tered at this munificent gift; not so much for its
intrinsic value, as for the feelings which actuated
its presentation, and which go to show that our
untiring efforts to produce a superbly illumined
journal, intrinsically valuable, and worthy of a
place in every refined homestead in America,
are thus appreciated. If we had not been ac-
tuated by sentiments beyond mere dollars and
cents, the Pictorial would never have reached its
present degree of excellence, circulation, or firm
basis; but it has our undivided attention, our
never-flagging energy, and our whole heart en-
tirely devoted to its good and perfection ; and
thus actuated, our readers may be assured that
a moneyed aristocracy, having both wealth and
leisure at its command, has encouraged and
fostered art as a recreation ; where access to tlie
teachings of the old masters is so easy, and where
an enlightened public taste has been nurtured
and fed by talent of the highest order, it is not
surprising that the fine arts have flourished and
extended the area of their adaptability until their
encouragement has become a national feature,
and the national taste may be said to guage the
nation's standing.
In our own country, whose history fills but a
few pages of the record of time, the case is dif-
ferent. There has been territory to discover
and annex, forests to fell, cities to build, wars to
wage, and all the neccessary adjuncts of a newly
discovered and settled country to overcome.
Occupied as he is, in business, and having yet
his fortune to make, Brother Jonathan has had
but little time and small means to spend in de-
votion to the graces. It is therefore not at all
surprising that the past ten or twefve years have
witnessed the establishment and failure of several
illustrated journals of a nature similar to your
own, which have failed for want of a taste on
the part of the public for pictorial illustrations.
Under these circumstances, the individual might
will be rewarded with the success which such
noble endeavors deserve.
It is with the view of testifying to the feelings
with which the Artists generally view your exer-
tions, and as an evidence of their appreciation of
the benefit derived by art from the publication
of tUe Pictorial, that we otFer the accompanying
Service of Plate for your acceptance.
With sentiments of respect and esteem,
Wc beg leave to remain.
Yours, etc.,
Jno. R. Chapin, ') Committee
Geo. T. Deverecx, / of
J. U. Manning, ) Presentation.
Boston, Nov. 20, 1852.
Gentlebien : — Tn acknowledging the receipt
of your magnificent present of Plate, I find my-
self at a loss what to write. To say that I am
not highly gratified, as well as surprised, at this
kind demonstration of feeling on the part of
yourselves and the numerous and very honorable
class whom you represent, would be untrue. It
is eminently gratifying, after nearly two years of
incessant labor, anxiety and unremitting care, to
say nothing- of the investment of an amount of
REPRESENTATION OF THE SERVICE OF SILVER PLATE PRESENTED TO MR. F. GLEASON BY THE ARTISTS OF IHE UNITED STATES.
they ought to do good work, for they have got
some of our best workmen there." " Yes, but,"
said an American present, " I happen to know
the maker of this set, and he is a self-taught
American, born in New York." The Queen
was particularly struck with its beauty, and
spent some considerable time in examining and
admiring it. The service represented above
contains two more pieces than the Collins set,
and consists of seven pieces : a Vase for Flowers,
Tea Kettle, Tea Pot, Sugar Bowl, Milk Jug,
Slop Bowl, and Waiter. It is, without excep-
tion, the handsomest Silver Tea Set we ever
saw, and reflects great credit upon the taste of
the artists, as well as upon the skill and work-
manship of Messrs. Ball, Black & Co. The
design is exceedingly rich and graceful, while
the chaste elegance and artistic abandon with
which the leaves and tendrils of the vine are
thrown over and around the respective pieces,
has never been excelled in this or any other
country. The elaborate finish of the handles,
representing branches of the vine, is truly sur-
prising, and is of itself sufficient to stamp the
skill of the maker as of the highest order.
they cannot but reap the advantage of our devo-
tion to their amusement and instruction. The
present is not an unfavorable occasion to call the
attention of all to the character of our contents,
to the names we have enlisted in our service, and
to the specimens of the art pictorial which we
are weekly presenting to the public. Of the
public benefit such a journal must prove to all
classes, we leave the reader to judge, and desire
to call, also, his attention to the fact which this
elegant present enforces and manifests, that
those best enabled by experience to judge in
these matters, have spoken in the most com-
mendatory terms of our enterprise.
New Yoek, November 19th, 1852.
F. Gleason, Esq.,
Dear Sir : It is with feelings of the highest
personal gratification that we announce to you
tbat we have been selected by our brother Artists
of the United States as a committee to tender
for your acceptance the accompanying Silver
Tea Service, intended by them as a testimonial
of their high appreciation of your endeavors to
improve Art in this country ; and we esteem it a
privilege to state briefly — in their behalf — the
reasons which have drawn forth this testimonial.
Among the nations of the Old World, where
well be thought visionary, who, having acquired
a competence from the successfal prosecution
of business, should invest in an enterprise so
often unsuccessful, the amount which you have
spent in establishing and bringing to its present
state of perfection the only pictorial paper in this
country. The secret of your success, however —
to our minds — rests in the fact that you have, to
a very great extent, by your energy and perse-
verance, been the means of creating a public
taste for that peculiar branch of the fine arts to
which your paper is devoted. The outlay neces-
sary to bring about this desideratum we know
must have been enormous, independent of the
anxiety consequent upon the immensity of the
enterprise. But it is your proud satisfaction
now to feel, not only that you have greatly con-
tributed to create a taste for art in this country,
but that the public appreciate and acknowledge
that fact, as is evidenced by the rapidly increas-
ing circulation of your paper. Your liberality
to your artists has encouraged improvement and
afforded opportunity for study, which was entirely
wanting, where — as formerly — the artist was de-
pendent upon a mere mechanic's wages, and
compelled to work hard for that. Your energy
and determination to make your paper equal if
not superior to any published in the world, as
evidenced by the continued outlay and improve-
ment in every department connected with it, has
won for you the admiration of all, and we trust
capital which, if named, would seem almost
fabulous, to find all this labor and outlay so fullj
appreciated by those who realize its character
better than the uninitiated can possibly do.
Gentlemen, it is my design and constant en-
deavor to further the interests of art in America,
by paying for and publishing such designs and
engravings as are creditable to the enlightened
period in which it is our happy lot to live. I
feel that I am not actuated by mercenary mo-
tives. I have embarked my whole heart in my
illumined paper; and it is because my heart, and
not ray purse alone, is so thoroughly enlisted in
the enterprise, that I so keenly feel and appreci-
ate your splendid gift to me. Permit me, gen-
tlemen, to assure you for yourselves, and through
you, the Engravers and Designers of the United
States, of my cordial acceptance of this tribute,
and tbat its receipt will ever be cherished as a
memento of one of the happiest moments in my
life.
Very sincerely and truly.
Your ob't sen'ant,
E. GLEASON.
To Messrs.
Jno. R. Chapin,
New York,
Geo. T. Devereux, }- Com. of Presentation.
Philadelphia,
J. H. Manning,
Boston,
362
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Oloason'H Pictorliil.]
THE JiLlND vnihJ),
DY MRB A. T. ELDBEDQEI.
CoiiiB nciirov to mc, mother dciir,
And liit nio Iciiow thy form is near,
And tJilk of (layfl gono by ;
Of hiippy days when I could «eo
lCiu:\\ puillo of love that beamed on mo—
O, mother, do not sigh !
Although thy hajileHa child in blind,
Bow to the will of Ood reti^'iiud!
0, tell mo of the lovely flowers
That bloom in green and fragrant bowers
Around our rural home ;
Say, in the Uttlo stream n.H clear,
Beside Ihe spot I loved t^o dt*ar,
\\'here I was wont to roam
With my twin eifltpr by my nid«,
To watch the swiftly Uowiug tido ?
0, mother, do not sob and weep.
For in thy culm and rosy sleep
Thy cherished form I spe I
Although my bark seems rudely driven,
1 know that r shall see in heaven !
0, do not weep for me I
Although thy hapless child is blind,
Bow to the will of God resigned !
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE CROSSED DOLLAR:
— OR THE —
COUNTKY DEALER AND HIS CLEBK.
BY STLVANUS COBB, JR.
Mr. Eli as Randall kept one of those large
stores so common in flourishing country towns,
where every article of produce is bought from
the farmers round iibout, and where every kind
of goods usually needed in the country is kept
for sale. He was a sharp featured, shrewd-looking
man, somewhat turned of fifty, and hard as a
diamond at a trade. He could buy the best of
jiroduce at the cheapest rates, and he could sell
his auction-bought goods at alarmingly high
prices. In short, he never failed to make a
roimd profit at both ends of a bargain. He did
not hesitate to overstep the bounds of honesty
when lie had a fair chance, though he always did
it in such a manner that his old adage " A bar-
gain is a bargain " would safely shield him.
"Lyman," said he to his son, one day, a
young man some twenty years of age, and al-
most the counterpart of his father, save that he
showed more recklessness of disposition, " did
you make a trade with farmer Jones V
" Yes."
" What did you charge him for that sugar and
te&V
" Ninepence for the sugar, and half a dollar
for the tea. Made him believe 'twas extra nice,
you see."
" That's right. And what did you charge
him for the cotfee V*
"Ah, there I had him ! I made the old man
believe 'twas extra old Java — charged him fifteen
cents."
" Pretty good, my son, only you might have
put on the half cent. You see you can make a
great point out of that. When yon come the
half cents over them they think you are shaving
closer dosvn to cost. But you did very well,
Lyman. Now what did you allow Jones for his
beans 1"
" Seven an' sixpence."
"0, you shouldn't have done that. A dol-
lar, or dollar nn' ninepence would have been
enough."
"But they were nice ones, father ; carefully
picked and clean."
" You should have made him believe they
were poorer."
" Bat how V
" Why, wlicn you found the old man had
beans to exchange for his goods, you should have
taken a handful of poor ones from one of our
barrels, and watched your opportunity to scatter
them over the top of his. Don't you under-
stand V
" Yes, I sec now, father."
" That's right. We must live and thrive, you
ficc, and he who makes the most, comes out best
at the end. Always take advantage of a cus-
tomer when you can, but be careful and keep the
bright side out."
This was the way the father taught his son,
and how that son profited by it tlic sequel will
show.
"By the way, Lyman," continued the old
man, " I have discovered who it is that has been
robbing my money-drawer."
"Ah!" uttered the son, turning at that mo-
ment to arrange a piece of calico, which didn't
need any fixing at all. "And who is if!"
" Wilton Cuniiingliani."
"I shouldn't wonder in the least. I never
liked the fellow, and I have often wondered
what made you keep him."
"I wouldn't have kept him, only that he is
uucli a remarkably smart book-keeper, and such
a beautiful writer, too. He aint fit to trade."
"No; you can never make him believe it's
right to drive a snug trade. But how did yon
manage to detect him?"
" I'll tell you," returned the old man. " Last
week I took particular notice of some silver dol-
lars that were in tlie money-drawer, and, deter-
mined that L would set a trap for the thief. I
took four of the pieces and crossed them very
carefully, and in such a manner that one not ac-
quainted with the secret would not be likely to
notice it; then I put them back into the drawer.
Next morning one of them was gone, and as all
our trade the day before had been barter or cre-
dit, I knew that it could not have been given in
change. Of course my suspicions fell upon
Wilton, and I at once began to look about to see
where he had spent money, and I found that he
had paid Mr. Willey for his mother's rent. I
went to Mr. Willey, and asked to see the money
Wilton had paid him, and I found my crossed
dollar among it. It's as plain as daylight."
" Certainly it is," said Lyman.
" There can be no doubt about it," added the
old man, in a confident tone, and then, with a
sarcastic sneer, he said : "His seeming honesty
is all the result of fear. He dares not make a
bold trade, but he can steal in the dark, though."
Just then a customer entered, and while Mr.
Randall was trading with him, Wilton Cunning-
ham came in. The latter was not over one-and-
twenty, and though " appearances are deceitful,"
yet it would be hard work to make a physiogno-
mist believe that he could be capable of theft.
The young clerk went immediately to his desk,
and as soon as Mr. Randall was at liberty, he
joined him.
"You need not open your books this morning,
sir," said the trader.
The young man looked around in surprise.
"Mr. Cunningham,"' continued Randall, "1
have discovered who it is that has been for so
long a time robbing my money-drawer."
"Ah!"
" Yes, sir. I have trapped him, and you may
judge of my surprise upon finding it to be none
other than Wilton Cunningham."
" Do you mean me, sir 1" uttered the young
man, stepping down from his stool and boldly
facing his accuser.
" Of course I do, and I have proof of what I
say."
" No man, Mr. Randall, can produce a proof
of dishonesty in me."
"Not quite .so fast, sir. Did you not pay to
Mr. Willey the rent for the house which your
mother occupies V
" I did, sir."
"And did you not give him this dollar?"
asked Mr. Randall, producing the dollar he had
crossed.
" I might have done it, sir, for I paid him sev-
eral silver dollars."
"Ay," returned the old man, with a sort of
triumphant look, "and that dollar was stolen
from my drawer last Wednesday night, and you
paid it away on the same night. Now, how came
you by if?"
" If I paid it to Mr. Willey—"
"Butyoud'/rf pay it to him. He can swear
to that."
" Then, sir, I know not where I got it. I had
several of them. Some my mother has taken for
butter and cheese, and some I have laid away."
" Yes, some you have laid away! T//ai dol-
lar, sir, you took from my drawer last Wednes-
day evening. You stole it!"
" Mr. Randall," said Wilton, in a tone of calm
indignity, "I hardly know how to meet your
charge. To deny it would be only to contradict
you ; but I do deny it, and I call on God to wit-
ness that I never, to my knowledge, wronged a
man to the amount of a cent. I shall see Mr.
Willey, sir."
" Do so. I will go with you at once."
Accordingly Mr. Randall and his clerk setoff.
They found Mr. Willey, and that gentleman,
though he felt much friendship for the young
man, could not but declare that the crossed dol-
lar had been received from him. Wilton could
not deny it ; he had not noticed any particular
marks upon the money he had paid, and he could
only reiterate (he asBertlon that he had not taken
it from his employei''M drawer, lie ftflt giieved
to see that a Hhadc of suspicion rested upon the
face of Mr. Willey, and he then naw how strong
was the evidence agiunst him. He turned away
to hide the tear that sturicd from his eye, and hia
heart swelled with a painful emotion.
" Is 'Squire Bullard at home f" asked Mr.
Randall, after tlic facts in the ca.se had been suf-
ficiently diicussed.
" No. He's gone down to I'orlland, but he'll
be at home to-night," returned Mr. Willey.
" Good heavens ! Mr. Randall, you do not
mean to make a legal investigation of this case V
cried Wilton, turning pale and trembling like an
aspen.
" Most assuredly I do," calmly returned the
trader. " If you are innocent you will have no-
thing to fear."
"And suppose I cannot prove that innocence ?"
" That's just what I'm afraid of," half ironi-
cally returned Randall.
" 0 God !" ejaculated the youth, clasping his
hands together in tortured agony. " What have
I done that I should come to this V
Mr. Willey liegan to show evident signs of re-
pentance that he had been instrumental in bring-
ing this about, and as Randall noticed it, he
made haste to cut the meeting short.
" You need not go back to the store with me,"
he said to his clerk, "but I shall sec you this
evening."
Wilton Cunningham turned his steps home-
ward, but his walk was slow and sad. He knew
the disposition of Mr. Randall, that he was hard-
hearted, grasping, ?.varicious, and capable of
doing anything that might answer his own ends ;
but he knew not then all the ends the trader had
in view — ends which will be easily understood
by a slight conversation at the store.
"Lyman," said Mr. Randall, after he had re-
turned from Mr. Willey's, " I've got young
Qunningliam hard and fast. The evidence is
clear, and if Bullard gets home before dark, I'll
have him examined and bound over for trial
this very night."
"But you don't really mean to try Wilton for
theft, do you?" asked Lyman.
" Of course I do. Do you suppose a man
shall rob me with impunity V
" But you might turn him ofi^, father, and keep
back his last quarter's salary."
" You don't know all, Lyman. The young
fellow might have been likely, hadn't this thing
have turned up, to have proved a dangerous
rival to us."
" How so, father V
" By setting up an opposition store."
"But he hasn't the capital. "
"He can raise it, though. That old Jones
that was in here this morning has oflfered to lend
him two thousand dollars, and others have offer-
ed to advance him money if he will open a new
store."
" That would be rather dangerous business
for you/' remarked Lyman, in a thoughtful
mood.
"But he wont do it now," the old man re-
turned, with considerable satisfaction. " This
thing will shut him up."
When Wilton reached his home, he found his
mother sitting in lier front room, and he at once
told her all that had passed. She was horror-
struck, but not for a single instant did she enter-
tain a question with regard to the entire inno-
cence of her dear boy. She was confident that
all the money she had given her sou towards
paying the rQ|jt she had received from Portland,
and that she had had it in her possession for
several weeks before it was thus paid out.
The conversation between the mother and
child was long and earnest, but they could find
no clue to the solving of the difficulty. All
looked dark and gloomy.
After dinner, Wilton put on his hat and took
a few turns in the garden. He seemed to be
struggling with some strong desire, and more
than once he laid his hand upon the latch of the
gate, and then turned and went back again. At
length he placed his hand upon his brow, and
muttered a few incoherent sentences to himself.
When he looked up again, he was pale and sad,
hut appeared no longer undecided. He opened
the gate and passed out into the street, and turn-
ing to the loft he walked away from the vilhige.
At the distance of half a mile, he came to a
small white farm house, where lived Mr. Drake,
one of the thrifiiest farmers in the town, and as
he turned up the pink -bordered walk that led to
the door, he was met by a happy, laugliing,
beautiful girl who came running out to meet him.
" Why, what is the matter, dear Wilton ?" she
exchiimed, as she noticed the pallor that over-
spread Ilia features.
" Come into the house and I will tell you," he
returned.
Alice Di-ake took the young man by the hand
and walked wir'^ him up through the garden.
When tliey reached the sittlngroom, Wilton
Cunningham closed the door, and then taking a
scat, he drew Alice to his side, and told her all
that had transpired. His voice was firm, for he
had schooled himself to the task.
"And now/' he continued, a* he finished his
Btory, " I have thought, Alice, that it would be
better for me to tell you this than to have it como
to you from other lips. I know not how it will
turn out, but I fear that I shall be unable to di.-i-
prove Mr. Randall's charge. In all probability
I shall this evening be called before 'Squire Bul-
lard for examination, and the event cannot but
cast a foul stain upon my reputation. It is a
painful thing to be situated thus, for others mnst
suffer besides myself; but you, Alice, I would
free from — "
Willon hesitated and wiped a tear from his
eye, but he soon gained his self-possession,
though his voice faltered as he continued :
" You know our relations, dear Alice, but if
this stain falls upon me, I must release you
from your vows. One so pure as you should
not be united with a man upon whose name even
a suspicion of crime can fasten itself. It is like
taking my life itself thus to — "
"Hold, Wilton," uttered the fair girl, who
had managed thus far Vo keep back her tears.
" Are you guilty of this thing V
" It is cruel to ask me that, Alice."
"I ask it, nevertheless."
"As there is a God who hears me now, the
thought, even, of such a crime never entered my
mind. The person does not live who can say
with ti'uth that I ever wronged him or her."
" I believe you," returned Alice, laying her
hand upon Wilton's shoulder and gazing affec-
tionately into his face. " I know you, and know-
ing you as I do, I shall never forsake you.
When I promised to be yours for life, I did it
upon mature deliberation, nor did I mean that
the first time the cold breath of slander or sus-
picion fell upon you, that I should throw yon
off."
"Noble, generous girl!" murmured Wilton,
as he wound his arm about her, " this takes
away half the sting ; but you must remember
well what you do."
"I l-iiow what I would do, Wilton. Ah, if I
could forsake you in your trouble, how unwor-
thy should I be of the sacred oflSce of wife !
But tell me, have you no suspicions? You say
that for some time various small snms of money
have been taken from Randall's drawer."
"Yes, dearest; for over a year there have
frequently been discrepancies between our cash
record and the amount in the drawer ; but, in
many cases, it has been the result of Mr. Ran-
dall's own carelessness in taking money during
the day for small purchases without giving a
minute of it ; but, in some instances, I know
that money has been stolen."
" And have you no suspicions of who took
it?" asked Alice, with much earnestness.
" I do not know who took it, and it would be
ungenerous to tell of mere suspicions."
" Well, I have my suspicions," said Alice.
" I was in the store after you went away to sup-
per last Wednesday evening, and I waited some
time for you to come back, but I got tired ; so I
came away without seeing you."
" Well," uttered the young man, in almost
breathless anxiety, " did you see anything out of
the way ?"
" Not that I know of; but, while I was there,
I saw Mr. Randall go away from the desk where
you write, and put some heavy pieces of silver
into the money drawer, and when he went out
of the store, I went too, for I did not like to re-
main after he had gone."
" That was probably the money he marked,
and it was after he had gone home that that mo-
ney was taken, for when the drawer was taken
out of the safe, the next morning, he says it was
gone ; and it was after that, too, that I paid Mr.
Willey."
For some time Alice Drake sat in deep thought.
Her fingers' ends were placed upon her brow,
and weighty ideas seemed revolving in her mind.
At length she raised her head, and in a hopeful
tone, she said :
"You have many friends, Wilton, and some
who may. help you in this emergency. I will
myself seek them. Ah, there goes 'Squire Bui-
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
363
lai-d now. You had better return to your own
cottage, and, trust me, a woman's wit may be a
match for them all."
" But I cannot consent to this, Alice, that you
should — "
" Let me have my own way this time," inter-
rupted Alice, " and I assure you that you shall
not often find me so stubborn. The merest ac-
cident in the world may turn the whole current
of affairs."
" Well, be it as you like," returned Wilton,
as he arose from his seat, " though it will be a
lucky accident that settles this in my favor,
though God knows it would be a just one."
Shortly afterwards young Cunninghaai kissed
Alice, and then turned his steps towards his
home. He had been in the house but a short
time before he saw Alice ride past alone in her
father's wagon. He had not yet dared to tell
his mother that he expected to be taken to a
lawyer's office, and rather than she should know
of it till the result had appeared, lie resolved to
seek Mr. Randall ere he should be sent for, and
with this view he told his mother merely that he
was going to the store, and then left the house.
Before he reached the store, however, he met the
deputy-sheriff, who already held an order for his
arrest. Mi-. Randall having entered a complaint.
It was not until after dark that Wilton Cun-
ningham was conveyed to the office of Mi*. Bul-
lard, and when he arrived he found not only his
accuser and his witness there, but also several of
the towns-people besides.
Those who know anything about the prelimi-
nary examination of a complaint in one of our
country lawjers' offices, understand pretty well
the latitude that is generally given to not only
witnesses, but also to plaintiff and defendant.
Mr. Bullard opened by reading Mr. Randall's
charge, to which Wilton, of course, responded
" not guilty." Randall then made his statement
in full. His son, Lyman, was called upon to
testify to the fact that money had frequently been
stolen from his drawer. Just as young Randall
was delivering his testimony with a brazen-faced,
offhanded manner, old farmer Jones entered the
office, followed by Alice Drake and Mark Loud,
the latter of whom was a hostler in Mi\ Willey's
stable.
Randall felt uneasy when he saw Jones enter,
for ho did not like the man at all; but Lj'man
betrayed the most trepidation, and for why will
shortly be seen.
Mr. Willey was then called upon for his evi-
dence, which he gave with precision and confi-
dence.
" This thing looks rather dark," remarked
Mr. Bullard, bending a sort of compassionate
look upon Wilton.
"'Squire," said farmer Jones, in his Rsual
blunt way, rising slowly to his feet, "I don't
know much about your law regulations, but I
'spose you wouldn't have no objections to my
asking a few questions just about as I've a mind
toV
" Certainly not," returned the lawyer, with an
air of deference, for farmer Jones was one of the
most honest, upright and influential men in tlie
tovm.
" Well, then, 'squire ; 'bout an hour ago Miss
Alice Drake come drivin' up to my house, an'
asked me if I didn't remember of bein' in Ran-
dall's store last Wednesday night, an', of course,
I remember it, though I don't 'spose I should
ever have thought of it agin in the world, if she
hadn't 'ave mentioned it. Well, I come rfght
down with her, and a tween us both we've got
up considerable of a story. Now, I should just
like to ask Mr. Randall where his son was Sun-
day 'fore last."
" He was at P Hill, to attend meeting all
day," returned Randall ; but when he saw how
his son trembled, he evinced some strong mis-
givings on that point.
" Rayther guess you're mistaken on that
point," said Jones. "I saw him an' old Samp-
son's boy, with one of Mi". Willey's wagons,
postin' off airly in the mornin' in another direc-
tion ; an', if I aint mistaken, they spent a good
part of the day on Thompson's Pond a fishin'."
Mr. Randall turned sharply upon his sou, and
asked if that was true. Lyman at first denied
the gentle insinuation, but, at length, he was
obliged to own it.
"Well, that's so much gained," continued
Jones; and then, with lawyer-like tact, he turn-
ed to Mr. Willey. " Mr. Willc}-," said he, "how
do you know that Wilton Cunningham gave you
that crossed dollar that Randall lost out of his
drawer V
"Because no one else paid me any such mo-
ney on that day," answered Willey.
" Where did you put that money wlien you
got it?"
" In my drawer."
" And doesu't somebody else ever go to that
drawer'?"
" No one but Mark Loud."
"Well," continued Jones, " last Wednesday
night I left my horse in your shed, and after the
store was shut up I went after him, and just as I
was onhitchiii' him, Mr. Lyman Randall steps
in and pays Mark Loud for the horse he had the
Sunday before, though he didn't notice me when
he did it. When I turned into the street, I saw
Alice Drake, an' I offered to cany her home,
though I had to go some distance out of my way.
As we were riding along, we got to speaking
about Randall, an' I told her all about Lyman's
ridin' off" Sundays, an' that's the way she hap-
pened to hit on me in this case."
"But what has all this to do with my com-
plaint?" asked Randall, in considerable passion.
" Only just this," returned Jones, with a pecu-
liar leer : " It was your son that paid that
crossed dollar!"
" It's a fact," said Mark Loud, hopping up
from his seat. "Lyman Randall paid it to me
for the horse, and I put it into the drawer with
some of the others, and if you'll look on the
book, you'll find that I gave him credit for it."
" I remember now that I noticed the credit,"
said Mr. Willey; "but there was only the same
number of silver dollars that I put in there my-
self, for I counted them."
" Because I gave one of them to Sam Kendall
in change for a two dollar bill," explained Mark,
"and that was before I took the dollar of
Lyman."
"And how do you know that it was the
crossed dollar you took of my son ?" asked Mr.
Randall.
" Because I took particular notice of it," re-
turned Loud. "You see when the Portland
stage got in, and after the horses were put up,
the driver wanted to 'odd and even' with me to
see who should carry the mail up to the post
office ; so I took out this dollar — for I hadn't
had a chance to carry it into the office, — and I
agreed to let him guess on the date of that, and
when I come to look at the figures, I found a lit-
tle cross that looked as though it had been cut
in with a knife, and one end of it came right
down to the date. If that's the dollar that Ran-
dall's got, you'll find it just as I've said."
This produced quite a marked sensation; and
when Mr. Randall was asked to show the dol-
lar, he freely acknowledged, though with accu-
mulated wi'ath, that there was no need of it.
" Then, of course, you withdraw your com-
plaint," said Bullard.
" Yes," returned Randall ; and then turning
savagely upon his son, he hissed out from be-
tween his clenched teeth : " Lyman, you scamp,
you shall suffer for this. Come, sir, and I'll
teach — "
But the boy did not choose to hear any more,
for quickly turning at bay, he retorted :
" Now look here, father, you'd better keep
dark, for I think / can tell some things as icell as
you !"
Elias Randall was humbled in a moment, and
like a whipped cur, he turned to leave the office;
but before he did so, he heard farmer Jones
remark ;
" Like father like son. The boy's learned his
lesson well !"
There were tears in Wilton Cmmingham's
eyes when he took Alice by the hand, but he
could not speak ; nor could she, for her excite-
ment had been too great ; but of one thing I am
sure : in less than two short months, they had
spoken to some purpose, for they had become
one for life, and on the next Monday afterwards,
Wilton opened a large store with a freely-loaned
capital of eight thousand dollars.
Just seven years have passed away since then.
Mr. Randall lost all his customers in less than a
year after the opening of the new store, for,
through Cunningham's honest trading, the peo-
ple found how shamefully they had been cheat-
ed, and the latter has not only cleared enough to
refund his borrowed capital but he has gained a
large circle of true hearted friends, such as true
honest worth never fails to win. Lyman Ran-
dall was just in time to take ihc first "Oregon
fever ;" while his father went to Canada, and en-
tered into horse-trading, but no one ever bought
a horse of him the second lime, and he has sure-
ly lived to appreciate the old adage; "He who
swims in small sin^, will sink in greater sorrows."
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA.
DT E. CURTISS niNE, U. S. N.
Where the hoarse-voiced, wild Atlantic
Throws its waves upon the strand,
And with rage and fury frantic,
Shakes the shores -with briny hand,
In a white-walled cot resided
Once a hardy fisherman,
Gilbert Rollins, and he prided
Oft himself upon his Dan.
Brave was Dan to breast the billows
rtTien the storm king waked the deep ;
Wheo the tempest raged the wildest,
To his skiff the youth would leap,
Out upon the foaming ocean,
To assist some stranded bark,
And amid the storm's commotion,
Kescued men from perils dark.
Once in chill and bleak December,
On the shore a ship was thrown ;
Well the day I now remember.
Wildly did the ocean moan.
Rescued were the crew by Daniel,
Every wight received his care;
And among them was a spaniel
Owned by noble lady fair.
And the dog she gave to Rollins,
For his conduct on that day —
Charming young Augusta Rollins,
Wrecked near wild Lynhaven Bay I
Gave she more of costly treasure —
AU her goods and worldly pelf;
But she gave young Dan most pleasure,
When she gave to him — herself.'
Now they dwell in yonder cottage,
Shining by the deep blue sea;
Happy is the shipwrecked lady,
Singing ever merrily ;
And she never sighs to journey
To her friends on England's shore ;
For she loves the gallant boatman
And the wild Atlantic's roar !
ANIMALS FEIGNIIVG DEATH.
The character for subtlety which the fox had
from the earliest ages, is the main reason why
his assumed or presumed inanimation when in
danger has been ascribed to intention : for other-
wise some of the instances we have given, on
this supposition, would not appear to be exceed-
ingly well devised. In two instances which I
have adduced, at least an effort at escape would
have been the most judicious proceeding; and
in his adventure with the countryman it seems
surprising that this was not attempted. But a
more probable explanation is, that the sudden-
ness of the encounter, at a time when the crea-
ture thought of no such thing, had the effect of
stupefying his senses ; so that an effort at escape
was out of his power, and the appearance of
death was not the fictitious contrivance of cun-
ning, but the consequence of terror. And that
this explanation is ttie true one appears, among
other proofs, from the conduct of a bolder and
more ferocioas animal, the wolf, under similar
circumstances. If taken in a pitfall, it is said
that it is so subdued by surprise, that a man
may safely descend and bind and lead it away,
or knock it on the head ; and it is also said that,
when it has wandered into a country to which it
is a stranger, it loses much of its courage, and
may be assailed almost with impunity. — Couch's
Illustrations of Instinct.
A MATRIMONIAL HINT.
We remember somewhere to have read a story
of a youth who, hesitating in his choice between
two young ladies, by both of whom he was be-
loved, was brought to a decision by means of a
rose. It happened one day, as all three were
wandering in a garden, that one of the girls, in
attempting to pluck a new-blown rose, wounded
her finger with a thorn. It bled freely; and ap-
plying the petals of a white rose to the wound,
she said, smiling : "I am a second Venus; I
have dyed the white rose red." At the moment,
they heard a scream ; and, fearing the other lady,
who loitered behind, had met with an accident,
hastened back to assist her. The fair one's
scream had been called forth by no worse an ac-
cident than had befallen her companion. She
had angrily thrown away the offending flower,
and made so pertinacious and fretful lamentation
over her wounded finger, that the youth, after a
little reflection, resolved on a speedy union with
the least handsome, but more amiable of the two
friends. Happy would it be for many a kind
hearted woman did she know by what seeming
trifles the affection of those whom she loves may
be confirmed or alienated forever. — Olire Branch.
GOOD NATURE.
One cannot imagine any quality of the human
mind whence greater advantages can arise to
society than good nature, seeing that man is a
social being, not made for solitude, but conver-
sation. Good nature not only lessens the sor-
rows of life, but increases i s comforts. It is
more agreeable than beauty, or even wit. It
gives a pleasi^ff expression to tne rourtenanre,
and induces a multitude of the most amiable ob-
servations. It is, inrleed, ihe orifiin of all soci-
ety. Were it not for goi-d nature, men could
not exist t. geiher, nor hold inicrcouisc with one
another. — Men and Manneis.
VEGETABLES AND FLOWERS IN ENGL.4.ND.
The advantages arising from the exploration
of foreign regions are scarcely to be enumerated.
To the discovery of AmcriLa by the illustrious
Columbus, we owe the introduction of that truly
useful root, the potato. The pear, the peach,
the apricot, and the quince, were respectively
brought into Europe from Epirus, Carthage, Ar-
menia, and Syria, and by degrees into England.
Cherries are of very ancient date with us, being
conveyed into Britain from Rome, A. D. 55. In
the King of Saxony's museum, at Dresden, there
is a cherry-stone, upon which, aided by a micro-
scope, more than a hundred faces can be distin-
guished. Dr. Oliver was shown a cherry-stone
in Holland with one hundred and twenty-four
heads upon it, and all so perfect that every one
might be seen with the greatest ease by the naked
eye. Melons were originally brought from Ar-
menia. According to Mr. Andrews, fruit was
very rare in England in the reign of King Henry
VIII; that gentleman informs us that apples
were then not less than one or two shillings each ;
a red rose, two shillings ; and that a man and
woman received eight shillings and fourpence
for a small quantity of strawberries. Cabbages,
carrots, etc., were introduced about the year
1547. Previous to this period. Queen Catharine
of Arragon, first consort of Henry VIII, when
she wanted a salad, was compelled to send to
Holland or Flanders on purpose. About this
time, apricots, goosebenies, pippins and arti-
chokes, were first cultivated. The currant-tree
came from Zante, and was planted in England,
A. D. 1533. Cos-lettuces were brought from
the Island of Cos, near Rhodes, in the Mediter-
ranean. Asparagus, beans, peas and cauli-
flowers, were introduced in the beginning of the
reign of Charles II. Nor can we claim the jes-
samine, the lily, the tulip, etc.; for the jessamine
came from the East Indies, the lily and the tulip
from the Levant, the tube-rose from Java and
Ceylon, the carnation and pink from Italy, and
the auricula from Switzerland. Thus it appears
that nuts, acorns, and a few wild berries, were
almost all the variety of vegetable food indige-
nous to our island. — London Journal.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE EVENING CROSS.
BY CAKOLI^'E A. BATDEN.
Day waa departing, and the sun's last ray
Shed o'er the scene a soft, yet glorious light ;
Except ■where some deep silent shadow lay,
As if to usher in the coming night.
The summer flowers mth half closed lids were sleeping,
Hushed by the murmuring music of the breeze ;
While the light clouds above them softly weeping.
Joined their mute praise with nature's melodies.
But as the twilight deepened in its beauty,
And the last daybeam glimmered in the west ;
When pensive thought came whispering of duty,
And wakened deep reflection in the breast:
High o'er all was seen a withered pine,
With wide spread branches ; and the parting ray
Which lingered round it seemed a glow divine,
Such as hope sheds when joy has passed away.
0, nature teacheth many a truthful lesson,
And from that evening cross there seemed to come
A spirit whii^per — earth has many a blessing ;
But 0, remember it is not thy home.
The sunniest spots are often dimmed by tears,
And life grows dark beneath misfortune's frown ;
But for the pure in heart there are no fears,
Who bear the cross, shall surely win the crown.
A TRUE LADY.
" I cannot forbear pointing out to yon, my
dearest child," said Lord Collingwood to his
daughter, "the great advantages that will result
from a temperate conduct and sweetness of man-
ner to all people on all occasions. Never forget
that you are a gentlewoman, and all your words
and actions sliould make you gentle. I never
heard your mother — your dear, good mother —
say a harsh or hasty thing to any person in ray
life. Endeavor to imitate her. I am quick and
hasty in my temper, but. my darling, it is a mif-
fortune which, not having been sufficiently re-
strained in my youth, has caused me inexpres-
sible pain. It has given me more trouble to
subdue this impetuosity than anything 1 ever
undertook." — EmjUsh paper.
SINGULAR CUSr03I.
A part of Bohemia, called Egra, seems to be
the only place where a wedding is not considered
an occasion of rejoicing. There it would be
deemed indecorous for a bride to appear in white
garments, or adorn herself with jewels and white
flowei's. She wears her usual black dress, with
a cloak of the same color, with a rosemary iu
one hand, and in the other a veil with which lo
cover her during the ceremony. In this dismal
attire, she demurely proceeds to the church, at-
tended by her relations, who preserve the utmost
solemnity of countenance during the ceremonies,
— Bridal Customs.
What a meaning and unique expression was
that of a younjj Iri.^-li girl, who was rendering
testimony against an individual in a New Or-
leans court, not long since. " Arrah, sir," said
she, " I'm shure he never made his mother
smile." Thfre is a biogrnpliy of unkirdness in
that suuplc SL-ntence.
364
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
MONUftlENTAIj FOUNTAIN AT NOIES, IN FRANCE,
Tiio city of Nimcs, where the Romans — that gigantic nation of
the past centuries — have left behind them so many admirable
monuments which remind the traveller of the grandeur of their
power, has recently erected a fountain on the Square of the Es-
planade, in tlie heart of the new quarter of the eity. The work
wna designed by Mr. Rcvoil, of Nitncs, and executed by Mr.
Qucstel, the arcliitcet, and I*radier, the celebrated French sculp-
tor. In the midst of an octagon basin of gray marble, bordered
by a parterre of flowers, and surrounded by a graceful railing,
rises a pedestal, with abutments of four vases, each ornamented
with three lions' heads spouting water into the central vase. A
statue of gigantic proportions, draped in the antique style, person-
ifies the city of Nimes. Tlie head is at once vigorous and grace-
ful, and is surmounted by a mural crown, containing miniature
copies of the arena, the square house, the court house and the
theatre — four architectural gems, the piido of tlie city which the
statue represents. The right hand rests upon a shield, whereon
tlie sculptor has engraven the arms of the city, two clasped hands,
the symbol of good faith, and the crocodile chained to a palm-
tree, with the words " Colonia Nemansensis/' Colony of Nimcs.
Below this figure, at the four angles of the monument, the sculp-
tor has grouped four other figures of the same size, representing
the river Gard (Vardo), the Rhone (Rhodanus), the fountain of
the Eure (Ura), and of Nimes (Nemansa). The two first rest upon
reversed urns, the others on antique masks, whence the water spouts
into tlic great vases. The Rhone, placed at the angle wliich faces
the arena, rises on his pedestal with the vigor of an Olympian god,
and the vine winds its graceful tendrils round his powerful limbs.
The Gard, a pendant to the Rhone, has been modelled by Pradier,
with rare ability. This statue offers singular beauties in the fore-
shortening. The right hand grasps a trident, and the head ex-
presses the irritation which the torrent, pei sonified by the sculptor,
antiques. But it would have been more consistent with good
taste to have preserved it untouched and unoccupied, in its an-
cient simplicity, The amphitheatre of Nimes is admitted to he
the most perfect structure of its kind extimt, after that of Verona.
It stands on one of the boulevards, surrounded by a large open
./
.^.^
eenee of the ancient eity, Nimes does not, however, owe its solo
interest to its antiquities. It has several largo, and socne good
modern, edifices. The cathedral, began in the eleventh, but prin-
cipally constructed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, has
but little to recommend it, except its occupying the site of the
temple of Augustus, but the Palais de Justice, on the esplanade,
the Hotel Dieu, principally re built in 1830, the general nospital,
the new theatre, several of tlie churches and the public library,
are handsome, well contrived buildings. A large fortress to the
north of the city was constructed by Vauban, on tlie site previ-
ously occupied by the basins that received the water brought thith-
er by the aqueduct of which the Pont du Gard forms a part. It
is now the central prison for the southern departments of France,
and has usually about 1200 inmates. The bishop's palace. Epis-
copal seminary, college, and large Ijarriicks, are the other princi-
pal public buildings. The esphnuuic <ontiguou8 to the amphithe-
atre, and the Cours Nenf, arc uniung the finest promenades. The
last named extends quite througli the western part of Nimes from
north to south, and leads to the fine and extensive ./ar^^/n rie /a
Fontaine. Tliis garden derives its name from a large and hand-
some fountain, and has in it many statues and other Roman an-
tiquities, besides the vymphamm mentioned above. The Poni du
Gard is in the Tuscan style ; it is very little ornamented, but is a
highly picturesque object. With singular good fortune, it escaped
dilapidation during the dark ages; and the greatest injury it ex-
perienced was in 1600, from the Duke de Rohan, who broke away
a portion of the second tier of arches to facilitate the passage of
his artillery; hut the breach was afterwards repaired at the ex-
pense of the states of Languedoc. Nimes is a bishop's see, the
seat of a royal court for the departments Gard, Lozere and Vau-
cluse, courts of primary jurisdiction and commerce, a chamber of
commerce, coi/srH de jn-ud'hommes, a university academy, the royal
academy of Gard, a royal college etc. It has schools of drawing
REPRESENTATION OF THE MONUMENTAL EOUJSTAIN OF NIMES, IN FRANCE.
experiences at meeting the obstacles thrown in its way. The
fountain of Nimes, which faces the Montpelier road, exhibits the
traits of a young girl, whose graceful figure is half concealed by
drapery, and whose head is covered with a wreath of water lilies.
At the angle which faces the boulevards, her eyes turned to the
Beaucairc Railroad, the fountain of Eure — a lyre in her hand, a
coquette of dreamy air — seems lending an attentive ear to the
murmur of the water running at her feet. The whole monument
is nearly fifty feet high. The water is brought by canals from
the basin at the foot of Mount d'Haussez, the source of the deli-
cious water which gave the Romans the idea of constructing those
magnificent baths, the ruins of which are among the most inter-
esting fragments of antiquity found in this celebrated city. On
turning to McCuUoch's Geographical Dictionary, we find some
interesting facts relative to this ancient city, which we compile as
gratifying to the readers of the Pictorial in this connection.
Nimes is principally interesting on account of its antiquities, of
which it probably possesses more than any other city of Europe,
Rome excepted. The most classical, though not the most exten-
sive, of these is the oblong temple, absurdly called the il/a^soH-
carree, nearly in the centre of the city. This edifice was sup-
posed, from an inscription discovered on its frieze, to have been
built in honor of Caius and Lucius Caisar, grandsons of Augus-
tus; but, from subsequent discoveries, it would appear to have
been erected to the adopted sons of Antoninus Pius. At any rate,
it dates from the finest period of Roman art, and is one of its
most perfect remains. It is raised on a platform ascended by
fifteen steps, and has thirty Corinthian columns, six in the front
and at the back, and nine on each side, exclusive of those at the
angles. The portico, which is of ample dimensions, is supported
by six detached columns in front, and two on either side : the
other cohimns on the sides and back of the building arc sunk
half way into the walls. The capitals of the columns, and the
frieze, cornice, and other parts of the building, are profusely
adorned, in the most exquisite taste. The maison-carrec was con-
siderably injured in the middle ages ; but it is protected from fu-
ture spoliation by being enclosed within an iron palisade, and
';ince 1823 it has been employed as a museum of paintings and
space, on which no buildings are allowed to be erected. It is said
to have been founded by Antoninus Pius. Its longest external
diameter is 437 feet; its shortest 332 2-3 feet. It has thirty-two,
or, according to some authorities, thirty-five ranges of seats, and
is variously estimated as having sufficient accommodation for
from 17,000 to 23,000 spectators. Though it was occupied by
the Visigoths, and afterwards the Saracens, as a fortress for their
defence against the Franks, the outer wall is still nearly entire.
It consists of two stories, each having sixty arches, and an attic
story, and is entered by four gates, one at each of the cardinal
points, the principal being on the north side. The arcades of the
ground story are separated by pilastres, those of the upper by col-
umns, in an irregular Tuscan or Doric style. The interior is in
many parts dilapidated and overgrown with vegetation ; but it
still serves for bull-baits, jousts, and dramatic entertainments, to
which the modern inhabitants of Nimes are as much addicted as
their ancestors were to the more barbarous exhibitions of gladia-
tors. A few portions of the ancient walls still remain, princi-
pally in \hQ Portes d' Auguste and de France: the first, which, in
the time of the Romans, was the principal gate of the city, con-
sists of two large and two smaller arches ; the former, which are
in the middle, have between them a small Ionic column, respect-
ing which there has been much controversy, all the other decora-
tions of this gate being of the Corinthian order. In the north-
west part of Nimcs is a ruined vipv plin'}n)i, or Roman bath, of
considerable size, improperly termed the Temple of Diana. Near
this, on a height overlooking the city, is the Tour jnagne {tan'is
magna), a tower supposed to have been built by the Greek colon-
ists of the city before the Roman invasion ; but the original pur-
pose of which has not been correctly ascertained. It is in the
Doric style ; its lower part being heptagonal, its upper, octagonal.
It is in great part ruined : but being still one hundred feet in
height, and in a conspicuous position, it is used to support a tele-
graph. The above are the principal objects of architectural inter-
est in the city. The Vandals, and other barbarians, are said to
have destroyed the basilica of Plotinus, the temples of Apollo,
Ceres, Augustus, etc.; but the still existing memorials of antiquity
are more than sufl[icient to evince the almost unequalled magniH-
and chemistiy, as applied to the arts, societies of agriculture,
medicine, etc., a Bible society, a commission of antiquities, an
atheufEum, an extensive public library, and a cabinet of natural
history. Nimes is further distinguished by its manufacturing in-
dustry. It is one of the principal seats of the silk manufacture of
France ; ranking, in this respect, immediately after Lyons and,
perhaps, St. Etienne. Its manufactures are principally silk hosie-
ry and shawls ; and silk stuffs mixed with cotton, linen and wool-
en. There are, altogether, between 7000 and 8000 looms at
work in Nimes, many of which are Jacquard looms. All the
weavers work with their families at their own homes, there being
no large factories except for dyeing, or for printing silk stuffs ;
which latter branch of industry has greatly augmented since 1836,
when it employed from GOO to 700 hands, exclusive of children.
But, thougli the silk manufactures of Nimes be extensive, the
goods produced are not much esteemed by the upper and middle
classes, being mostly mere imitations of those of Lyons, and of
inferior quality. From this and other causes the export trade is
small ; its industry is not progressive, and its population often
experiences distressing crises. The weavers employ about eleven
hours a day at the loom ; the wages of a man being estimated by
Villerme at an average of thirty sous, those of a woman at twelve
sous, and of children from five to twelve sous. These low wages
being barely sufficient to provide current necessaries, the weavers
are almost all wretchedly clothed, dirty, and ill-provided with
fuel in winter. According to Villerme, tliey are intelligent and
laborious, and not addicted to drunkenness or other kinds of
profligacy; but they have neither economy nor foresight, with
the exception of the silk stocking weavers, who being employed
on articles less subject to the caprice of fashion, are less affected
by crises than the rest. These form, in fact, a separate class, dis-
tinguished for economy and prosperity, notwithstanding that their
wages are smaller than that of most other artisans. The beset-
ting fault of the working population of Nimes is a want of perse-
verance. Few are able to write and read. Besides silks, Nimes
has manufactures of cotton goods, gloves, leather, brandy and
vinegar, and a good deal of trade in wine, essences, drugs,
colonial produce, etc
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
365
FREDERICK GLEASON, Pkoprietor.
MATCRIN M. BALLOtr, Editor.
CONTKNTS OF OUR NEXT NUMBER,
" The Story of a. GeniuB : Drawn from Life." by Rev. H-
HiSTiKGS Weld.
'' Che \Vay to Washiogton," No. II, by Ben: Perlet
POOBE.
' Fashion,'' a prose sketch, by MRS. E. Wellmont-
" Turkey and the Turks," No. XIV, relating to the Hos-
pitals, by Dr. Jerome V. C. Smith.
" Travels in Palestine," No. XVI. relating to Baalbec
and Lebanon, by Rev. F. W. Holland.
" Where have they vanished, " lines by P.vbk Benj.\MIN.
" December,"' verses, by J- Starr Holloway.
" Freedom's Avatar," poem, by Augustine J. H. Dc-
GANNE.
'■ Old Songs," verses, by Owen G. "WARREr.
'• Autumn,'' poem, by Alice Caret.
" A'isions of the Night," lines, by Kenneth Sinclair.
'■The last Look on Nature," verses, by Joseph H,
Bdtler.
■' iVood Notes," lines, by Geo. W. Bungay.
ILLTJSTBATIOirS.
A fine and very accurate pif'ture of the Merchant's Ex-
change, Wall street. New York, by our artist, Mr. Wade,
will be given. A most admirable scene.
A capital picture of Madame Anna Thillon. in character,
as she lately appeared at the Howard Athenieum, by our
artist, Mr. Rows/^.
A capital picture of the Monument of John Harvard, at
Charlestown, Mass., by our artist, Mr. Mallort/.
A fine engraving, drawn by our artist, Mr. Rosenbitrg,
representing the City of Chicago, Illinois.
A picture of Lola Montez, in character, as she lately ap-
peart-U upnn the stage.
A magnificent large picture, covering two entire pages
of the f ictorial, representing tne famous Battle of Water-
loo, with the Iron Duke in command. This is one of the
largest and finest engravings we have ever yet given to
our readers, and will be highly prized.
An accurate likeness of Don Pedro II, emperor of Brazil,
shall appear. A fine picture.
A. very interesting rural Harvest Scene, representing
this period of the year in Ireland. An actual scene copied
from life in Kilkenny.
A picture of the " Black Maria," so called, being the
famous vehicle in which prisoners are conveyed to and
from the Phiiadelpliia Court House and the Prison. By
our artist, Mr. Deverevx.
A. fine large engraving of the Beacon Hill Reservoir,
Bu»Gon, by our ariint, Mr. Warrtn. An admirable draw-
ing-
fllRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
In a delightfully quiet street, in the up-town
portion of New York, protected from dust and
stray annoyances by a deep front, thick with
foliage and pageant flowers, we found this distin-
guished authoress's home. With "not many
but good hooks," and such surroundings of real
comfort as a happy and quiet ta.ste would sug-
gest, besides numerous mementoes of persons
and places, which she has gathered in foreign
travel, Mrs. Stephens's cottage home (Cottage
Place) seemed very interesting to us. No lady
in America stands higher as an authoress. She
is in imagery what Washington Allston was in
combination of colors, without a rival.
SFLINTEBS.
The Archbishop of Paris has a salary of
about §10,000 for the office which he fills.
It is suggested that our public garden
should be named Webster Park. Very good.
There were one hundred marriage certi-
ficates issued in this city in one week, lately.
.... Mr. Forrest has performed a successful
engagement at the Walnut St. Theatre, Phila.
.... Sontag's appearance at the new musical
hall was the crowning of her Boston triumphs.
.... After an absence of two years in Italy,
James Russell Lowell has returned home.
.... Charlotte Cushman and Grace Green-
wood have gone to Rome for the winter.
Miss Kimberly is under a theatrical en-
gagement in Philadelphia. She's very popular.
.... Please remember we send the Flag and
Pictorial together for S5 per annum.
.... Brackett has sold his ** Shipwi-ecked
Mother and Child " to the Boston Athenaum.
The prices of meat and bread are regu-
lated by law in Paris, and should be here.
.... William C. Bryant, the editor and poet,
has gone to Europe for a six months' tour.
The Bostonians are to present General
Pierce with a carriage and span of horses.
Macallister, the wizard, will visit this
city professionally next spring.
Henry Russell is still coining money by
his vocal entertainments in England.
Park Benjamin has been lecturing in the
western cities with distinguished success.
LETTER WRITING.
Old Howell says, speaking of letter writing,
we should write ai we speak ; and that is a true
and familiar letter which expresses our mind as
if wc were discoursing orally to the party whom
we address. Letters written thus are truly de-
lightful ; their charm is next to that of colloquial
interest, which they so nearly represent. The
y«//n7/ar letters of great men are more historically
true, are more certain indices of their character,
than their elaborate speeches, essays or works.
We except, of course, the letters of finished
diplomatists.
Various are the styles of epistolary ^vriting.
The letters of the unlearned generally commence
in a buoyant and spirited manner that is quite
refreshing : " These few lines come, hoping to
meet you in good health." An Irish letter gen-
erally begins : "I take the opportunity of writ-
ing." The "opportunity" alluded to being the
regular mail conveyance, which " happens "
daily in due course of a fixed institution. A
lady's letters are always graceful, whether invet-
erately ili-spelled — like those of the beauteous
days of Queen Anne's time, when orthography
was deemed too high a branch of learning for
the feminine intellect to master — or perfectly
coiTect. But they are all alike in the fact that
the subject nearest the writer's heart always
appears in a postsa-ipt, like an afterthought.
Some letter wTiters are distinguished for ex-
treme brevity. Foote's mother wrote to him as
follows : "Dear Sam, I am in prison for debt."
The dutiful son replied at once : " Dear mother,
so am I." " Old Put," the hero of Horseneck,
announced in half a dozen words, that one
'•Palmer, a spy, had been taken in camp," and
added : *' P. S. He is hanged."
Diplomatic letters are not examples of unvar-
nished truth, that is very certain. A foreign
ambassador writes to another foreign ambassa-
dor, whom he despises and hates from the bottom
of his heart, signing his missive ; " Be pleased
to accept the assurances of my most distinguished
consideration." We are afraid that "your duti-
ful son," ought oftener to be rendered "your
scapegrace of a boy ;" and that the " affection-
ate" in the signature of an absent husband, is
sometimes to be taken cinn grano sah's.
To write agreeable letters requires a peculiar
faculty. Many excellent general writers have
failed in writing epistles, while, on the other
hand, some of the best letter writers have never
succeeded in writing anything else. Burns's
letters are stiff, ungraceful and unsatisfactory;
so of the letters of many other distinguished po-
ets. Byron's letters are delightful, easy, grace-
ful, lively, witty and humorous. Sir Walter
Scott wrote admirable familiar letters.
Political letter writing is the hardest of all;
and many a promising presidential candidate
has ruined his political prospects by a dasli of
the pen ! Letters play a prominent part in the
great business of courtship, but how few of the
millions which are written would bear examina-
tion by other than interested parties !
Monetary. — "Look out for the pence, and
the pounds will take care of themselves !" — A
note shaver commencing business with a capital
ofSlO.OOOand getting one per cent, a month,
the usual rate demanded of "gentlemen in diffi-
culties," at the end of twenty-five years will have
accumulated S320,000. Why don't everybody
turn curb-stone broker ?
MUSICAIi.
Sontag's concerts, in this city, proved to be a
series of musical triumphs, such as we have
never before witnessed in Boston. A most liber-
al policy had induced the engagement, as assist-
ants at her concerts, of Badiali, Pozzolini, Rocco,
Alfred Jaell, the pianist, and that little musical
wonder — Paul Julien, the violinist. Anyone of
these might give a concert in this city with some
minor auxiliary talent, and command a house ;
but when combined upon one programme, the
bill off'ered was, on each concert evening, a mu-
sical ovation to be enjoyed and longremembered.
If we are not much mistaken, this visit has been
a most agreeable one to the queenly vocalist
herself, for she could not mistake the character
of her audiences, nor fail to observe the complete
triumph she achieved in their appreciation. The
Bostonians are critical, not over lavish with ap-
plause ; but when they are moved, it is in earnest,
and this has been most unmistakably manifested
during each of her five concerts at the Melodeon.
Owing to the admirable arrangement of her busi-
ness agents, the series of entertainments have
been, in a pecuniary point of view, entirely
successful.
We arc strongly tempted in this connection to
refer to some personal anecdotes relative to Son-
tag, but the theme is too fruitful a one for us to
touch upon lightly. Suffice it to say that since
her brief sojourn among us, many of her delicate
and private charities have transpired in a way to
show the truth and beauty of her woman heart.
Not only as exercised towards members of her
own profession, but also to others. The pre-
sentation to her of a Bible, by the clergymen of
Boston, through the venerable, highly respected
and beloved Dr. Sharp, is a tribute that any
artist living might be proud of,
CrLEAsos's PICTORIAL.— Out of many illustrated period-
icals which have been started in this country, there is but
one that can be said to have been successful, and estab-
lished itself permanently and eOectunlly. That one is
Gleason's Pictorial. This elegantly illustrated weekly
journal has won for itself a popularity which is equalled
by no other publication of its cast in this country. Its
elaborately executed engravings, its varied and extensive
miscellany, its original poems — invested with much that
is adapted to please the mind, and divested of all that
might be calculated to warp the judgment or debase the
pn-^sions — eminently commend it, not only to the patron-
Mge of the family circle in particular, but to every lover of
polite literature and artistic excellence throughout the
land.— 2VoT/ DaUy Post.
National Theatke. — We were much pleased
on dropping into this house, the other evening,
at the very orderly appearance of the audience.
The National inerits and will command success.
Cleanliness is a great Virtue. — Wont
the overseer of the Melodeon be so good as to
^have the floor of the house swept 1
TnEATRiCAL. — The Eagle Theatre has folded
its wings, and gone to roost.
"UNr-TE Tom's Cabin.'
Museu :i is a great " hit."
-This play at the
Our next Volume. — We have long had in
preparation a series of improvements for the Pic
torial which we have at last perfected; matters
that will vastly enhance the value and interest of
our favorite paper, and which will still more in-
terest our readers in its weekly visits to the home
circle. Next week we shall speak more fully of
these plans.
"French made east." — Certain quacks en-
gage to " teach the French in six lessons."
Louis Napoleon taught the French in one lesson,
on the 2d of December, who was their master.
The great emperor was famous for his bulletins;
the little emperor may, one day, find a biiilet-in
— himself!
Political. — It is untrue that Ensign Stcb-
bings is about to contest the election of Frank
Pierce. He is willing to give the administration
a fair trial, and will make no opposition. If the
new President decides upon taking Cuba, " peace-
ably if necessary, forcibly if possible," Ensign
Stebbings will be " thar !"
Humiliating. — The bones of the heroes of
Waterloo have been exported by cart-loads, to
be used np in the manufacture of ivory black.
There's glory for you \
" Imperial Ca;.«ar, dead and turned to clay.
Might stop a gap to keep the wind away."
Flag of our Union. — 4mong the numerous weeklies
published in the Atlantic cities, this paper '^stands fully
a head and shoulders'' above any other It is the beft
paper that we receive from the eastern cities, and one
which, while it enterkiins the render, does not fail to in-
struct. We woulil give c! iible the price for it that we
would for any other paper published even in Boston, New
York or Philadelphia. — Washington Drmocrat.
What does the editor of Glea.son's Pictorial mean by
SRyiiigthatJwe of the Mirror ai-e ''a little radical?^ — N Y.
Mirror.
We meant there was more honesty than poUc}/
in your composition.
Our next Number. — By glancing at the an-
nouncement, at the head of this page, the reader
will see that our next number will be a rich one
indeed. Please observe the names of cm* origi-
nal contributors.
Merited Trtbote. — We observe the name
of Charlotte Cushman among the subscribers to
a monument about to be erected to the memory
of Thomas Hood.
Murdoch. — The Mobile Tribune states that
this celebrated trotting horse has been sold by
Mr. Cottrell to a party in New York for $25,000.
In this city, by Rev. Mr. Streeter, Mr. Kufas McKenny
to Miss Sarah A. Decker.
By Kev. Mr. Howe, Mr. Seth Harding to Miss Sarah C.
Simmons.
By Rev. Mr. Edmands, Mr. Eliel S. Todd to Miss Re-
becca N. Paul.
By Kev. Mr. Cumminga, Mr. Milton Gale to Miss Eve-
line Priest, s.
At West Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Banvard, Mr. Vamum
Frost to Miss Sarah R. Pierce.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr Frothingham, Mr. Alexander B.
Merrill, of Danvers, to Miss Ellen Maria Lord.
At Dcdham. J. Davenport Howard. Esq., of Boston, to
Miss Mary SV.' Griswold.
At Andover, Dr George C. S. Choate, of Salem, to Miss
Susan 0. Kittredge.
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Merrill, Mr. George H. Hallow-
ell to Miss Hannah N". Reynolds.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Girwood, Mr. Anthony D.
Richmond, jr., to Miss Maria A. Smith.
At Pittsfield, by Rev. Mr. Hawley, Mr. Nathan H. Webb
to Miss Mary Ann Roberts.
At Williamstown, by Kev. Mr. Doolittle, Mr. Thomaa
Smith to Miss Maria L. Bacon.
At Portsmouth, N U., Mr. Paschal Hall, of Boston, to
Miss Mary K. Howard,
At Portland, Me., by B King,sbury, jr., Esq., Mr.
Charles Skillings to Mi.ss Hester Ann Moulton.
At Sebec, Me., Mr Lorin L. Fuller, of Boston, to Miaa
Lucy P. Lovejoy,
At BarnesviUe, Ohio, by Rev, Mr. Worthington, Mr
Eenjiimin I. Hager to Miss Ann Harriet Mackall.
How TO DO IT. — If you wish for care, per-
plexity and sorrow, be selfish in all things.
In this city, Mr. Thomas Reed, 83; Mr. David Watson,
39; Mrs. Olive Ruggles, 67; Mr. .John Burke, 63; Mr.
Milton B am, 20; Mr Benjamin Wheeler, 50.
At Chelsea, Mr. Horace B. Vans, 3S
At Charlestown, Mr John D- Edmands, 70.
At Somerville, Miss Mary E. Bailey, 45.
At Milton, Mrs. Ann G, Emerson, 45
At Nahant, Mr. Edmund S. Stephens, 32.
At Salem, Mr. Nathaniel D. Symonds, jr., 22.
At Danvers, Mr. John Symonds, 61.
At Lowell, Mrs. Lucinda Leavitt, 44.
At Newbuiyport, Hon. Charles II. Balch, 65.
At Northampton, Warren Brewster, 17.
At Grafton, Mr. David W. Brown, 45.
At Uolden, Mr. Edwin Meade, 52.
At Fall River, Mre. Ituth Sawyer. 61.
At Worcester, Miss Caroline Workman, 22.
At Pittstield, Mrs. Elizabeth Butler, 27.
At Chesttrfield, Mrs. Mary Rice, 78.
At Feeding Hills, Mrs. Mary Smith, 49.
At Edgartown, Mrs. Sarah Mellen, 51,
At South Yarmouth, Widow Mercy Covel. 79.
At Nantucket, Mr. George Wyer, 41.
At Sangerville, Me,, Mrs. Hannah Walker, 87-
At Canaan, N. H., Mrs. fliartha Cummings, lol.
At Brooklyn, N. Y., Mr Sylvester S. Gildersleeve, 23.
At Sing Smg, N. Y., Hon. Albert Lockwood, 50.
At Cleveland, Ohio, Mr. Willard Buruham, 53.
At Charleston, a. C , Mr. John D. Winslow, 72.
At New Orleans, Mr. James H. Van Horn, 26
At California, Mr Lewis Glover, of Bo.'Jton, 22.
— AND —
LITERARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A. Record of the beautiful and usefid in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, In the most elegant
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360
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DHAWIXG ROOINI COMPANION.
[Writtun for aiciiHon's PlctorJHl.]
"I STILl. LIVE."
THE LAST WORDS OF nON. DANIEL WEBSrER.
DT JOSEPH n. DOTLGB.
" Still I live !" Yes, noble Bpirit,
Wisefit, mightiest of thy diiy ;
DvHtliluHH fuQie thou slialt Inherit,
Till the earth nhall pnas nway.
In the hciirts of mlllloDB weeping,
Shrined, thy memory Hhiill bloom ;
I'rccJoui, fileoplcua watch ia keeping
Round thy conwecrat^d tomb.
Sage and patriot— thou art resting
With earth'a mighty, gone before }
God's bi-ight dludem investing
Thy high brow, to fade no more !
Lo 1 a uatiOD weeps in sorrow,
For her noblust, greateat son ;
Thine is now a brighter morrow,
(.lloriously thy race is run !
*' Still I live!" was justly spoken;
Such OS thou can never die —
Though Ufe'8 golden bowl be broken.
Thine is bright eternity !
While around ub rise the mountalna,
While the sun its light shall give —
And guflli out Columbia's fountains,
Thou Shalt utter : " Still I live I"
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. XV.
BY REV. F. "W. HOLLAND.
DAMASCUS.
Damascus has no competitor for age. All
its contemporaries, Nineveh, Palmyra, Babylon,
have wholly perished ; while this oldest inhabit-
ed place has not dwindled in population, nor
surrendered its local pre-eminence, nor aban-
doned the manufacture for which it was most
famous, nor borrowed any thing from European
thought, worship or life. Its population is not
far from a hundred and fifty thousand, of whom
about twenty thousand are thought to be Arme-
nian and Greek Christians. Originally the scat
of a most renowned kingdom, and afterward the
capital of the Saracen empire, it is now the cen-
tre of an Ottoman pashalik and virtually the
metropolis of Syria. Its chief importance how-
ever is commercial, which will be greatly aug-
mented, if, as the English consul at Damascus
believes, the government will make a road over
the mountains to the Mediterranean. Two hun-
dred merchants make it their home ; and carry
on their foreign trade by the great Mecca cara-
van, the Bagdad caravan, the Aleppo, and small-
er expeditions, continually sent across Lebanon,
Beiroot and Acre.
It is to the Mussulman a holy city. Christian
life has not been safe in it till recent years. The
European costume has often proved dangerous,
and for a long time no unbeliever was permitted
to ride anything but an ass. Here, too, the
Egyptian conqueror brought safety to the stran-
ger; and one day a fanatic complained to Ibra-
him that the Christians would look down upon
the faithful from their horses — " No, said the
witty chief, jou shall ride dromedaries!" And
still, when the pious crowd are gathering for the
annual pilgrimage to Mecca, Franks who do not
like to be insulted find it best to keep at home.
The American mission here interested me
exceedingly. I attended its religious services,
its school, the families of its leaders. Neither
the American nor English missionaries live
poorly. Their apartments though single are
comfortable. Nothing about them is unworthy
of their friends at home. Their school is but a
beginning; indeed, the whole work is so. That
of the brothers of St. Lazarus is three times as
large, and because of the higher studies which it
pursues, a hundred times as important, because
the child who has finished his primary lessons
with the Protestants must either stay there or go
on under the influence of these Catholic friars.
The Female Academy of St. Lazarus seemed to
me particularly worthy of imitation by our
American friends.
The mission has failed with respect to the
Jews, for whom it was designed. The children
of Israel upon their own soil are immovable as
their native mountains, arc watched around by
hallowing memories of ancient renown and kin-
dling hopes of future triumphs. Their female
members are certainly very beautiful, and yet
not iv beauty which leaves its image on your
licart. No light of intelligence kindles the eye,
no air of thought gives dignity to any brow.
The elder ones arc Immensely fat, the perfection
of oriental charms. The mistress of a wealthy
house is iiung with jewels, utkI gorgeous as the
sea in colors of every kind. The younger wo-
men are but jjainted dolls, merely petted chil-
dren, whom it is pretty to ply with sweetmeats,
but with whom married life would be anything
but living. Their laugh is empty us tlie air it
falls upon, and their idle curiosity reminds one
painfully enough of that of tiie slave-boats on the
Nile. The universal habit of walking about on
clogs has spoiled their gait and made tiieir com-
mon motions ungraceful.
Nothing can the missionaries do with Arab or
Turk, except at the lia/.ard of martyrdom.
Those of them who know anything about Chris-
tianity, look upon it with pity, as a less holy
faith, and would expect to be degraded morally
as well as cast down from future bliss, by conver-
sion. Christ they honor, Moses they revere ;
but many of them cling to their own religion as
the only noble peculiarity they profess, and exalt
their prophet as the fulfilment of law and gospel
alike. There remains for a missionary field
only the various " Catholic" bodies, and they
are exceedingly ignorant and superstitious at
Damascus, quite unconscious of those intellect-
ual wants which Protestantism professes to sup-
ply, and steeped in the sensuality so congenial
to Syria. So that, under a debilitatingclimate,
amongst a population ready in any riot to take
the missionary's life, debarred from the inter-
course of civilized Protestants, the only resident
consuls being of another communion, their chil-
dren necessarily exiled from parental care to be
educated tliousands of miles away, there is hard-
ly any other field of efibrt so severe, discourag-
ing and doubtful.
The gipsies seem to belong to a spot believed
by many a Turk to be the ori[»inal Eden, only a
day's ride from which the tomb of Adam is still
shown ! We rode out one day over hundreds of
branches of the ancient Abana and Pharpar.
and through endless avenues of trees, and by
several straw-colored villages, over the ground
occupied in summer by the favorite and fairy-
like cofiee-houses, until we came upon the dusky
encampment at last. The men were busy mak-
ing wire-sieves, the women were picking olives
for the land owners at so much per day, though
the books tell us they never are known to work.
Their tents were rather smaller and meaner than
the Bedouins. Their dress was a little and but
a little peculiar. Their cattle looked wretchedly
neglected and dwarfish. The human faces which
we saw did not compare with the common Arabs
for beauty, and w*ere far more defaced by want
and weather. On the whole, except for the
wonderful fact of their maintaining precisely the
same features of character the world over with-
out any religious motive, they were not half so
interesting or noble as an Indian village in
America. The head man very naively avowed
that their religion was precisely that of the peo-
ple among whom they chanced to be — a most
easy and profitable creed.
As I gazed the next day with Count Guyon,
a Hungarian exile, from the half-ruined citadel
of Damascus, there seemed hardly anything in
the city but the domes of baths — and like the
other orientalisms of Damascus they are most
oriental. The first hall which you enter is the
undressing and dressing room, the principal
lounge for coffee, sherbet and the chibouque —
lighted and aired by a vast dome. Here, your
clothes are replaced by a towel over the loins
and another around the head, and clumsy pat-
tens are put upon your feet to move over the
marble floors, and a servant merely girded with
a towel leads you forward. Tiic next room is
smaller, but quite bare, and of a misty warmth.
You are glad to breathe a moment, as frequent-
ly this is the only preparatory apartment. But,
the important part, the inner room of all, also
aired by a dome, exhibits every strange process
at once upon all sorts of odd things. Here an
African is prostrated in a torpor of sensual pleas-
ure, there an Ai-abian is streaming with the
soap suds which an attendant is working into his
very hair; here nothing is visible of a fat Turk
but his pumpkin-like head on top of the stream-
ing water. Not the ripple of a smile even at
your own awkward terror disturbs any man's
gravity. Not Egyptian mummies could go
through the streaming, soaping, twisting, rub-
bing, boiling and baking with more serene dig-
nity. The great difference from our hot baths
is, partly, that you are bathed by your own per-
ppiration through the intense heat of the apart-
ment, whose pavement really makes you jump
when it is first touched by naked feet— and, that
the rubbing and soaping, never half done by
yourself in cither hot or cold bathing, arc ad-
ininistered by the most rigorous athletes, until
every atom of the old skin seems to have peeled
otT, and from head to foot another covering fre^h
as the babe's is spread all over you. Then you
need to recline upon the cushions of the grand
hall, and smoke and sip sherbet for hour.'^, to re-
cover your fonner self, and not be quite drowned
in this fiood of novel sensations. May I own,
that the experience was one which I should not
care often to repeat — that it seems to belong lo
tlie reverie-loving Turk, to the indolent repose
which is his paradi.se, and to the sultry summer
when energy is all but suicidal. I felt debilitat-
ed rather than renewed by the process, and
more ready for repose than for either thought or
bodily efibrt.
I had nearly forgotten one natural wonder in
the saddler's bazaar, an immense plane tree,
probably the noblest of its kind in existence, a
hundred feet high, fifteen feet in diameter at the
trunk, and with a spread wide enough to answer
for a roof to the great coifee-house mentioned
before. Its age is greater than any tradition.
On the whole, and after Cairo, Damascus is a
disappointment. Less ruined than any other
eastern city, with more of the bustle of success-
ful industry, of an antiquity actually unknown,
with many a sweet water-flow to refresh the sun-
burnt pilgrim, and many a delicious fraj;rancc
to whisper into one's heart all the poetry of Per-
sia, the legend of Mohammed, that he refused to
enrer the city for fear its luxurious beauty should
make him forget paradise, is supremely ridicu-
lous. The streets are narrow, slippery and un-
clean; all that you can know of most of the
houses is the dingy mud or rude stone wall upon
the street; the bazaars are commonly only a pile
of unpainted wooden shelves, with a counter for
the shop-keeper's lounge. The passing groups
are seldom so picturesque as upon the Nile.
There are no public edifices to compare with the
St. Sophia Mosque, the Luxor Temple, the
Shoobra Palace or the Acre Fount. Only the
fantasiic and airy splendor of the best interiors
of houses, the beautifully -watered and nobly-
wooded gardens all round the walls, the spacious
fitness of the numerous coffee houses give the
charm to " Es-sham." the Beloved.
The Farewell to Damascus from the ascent
of Anti-Lebanon is the sight for all the world —
then indeed you have " the pearl set in emer-
alds." There is the richest possible green from
walnut and poplar grove, setting olf with their
luxuriant foliage the wide-spread dome and daz-
zling minaret of the extended city — there is the
outpouring of nature's lap around some of the
most fairy-like works of man. Sadly and slow-
ly you leave the entrancing scene, bid good-by to
the merry brook, east yourself out of these fra-
grant arms of Paradise, and soon the cold moun-
tain breeze begins to freeze yom- blood, and the
ehill rain hurries you on after the first shelter
And so farewell to perhaps the very birthplace
of our race ! Farewell to the seat of Assyrian,
Grecian, Homan, Saracenic and Turkish power !
A long farewell !
THE FIRE-SIDK.
The fire side is a seminary of infinite import-
ance. It is important because it is universal,
and because the education it bestows, lieing
woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form
and color to the whole texture of life. There
are few who can receive the honors of a college,
but all are graduates of the hearth. The learn-
ing of the university may fade from the recollec-
tion, its classic lore may moulder in the halls of
memory ; but the simple lessons of home, enam-
elled upon the heart of childhood, defy the rust
of years, and outlive the more mature but less
vivid pictures of after days. So deep, so last-
ing, indeed, are the impressions of early life,
that you often see a man in the imbecility of age
holding fresh in his recollection the events of
childliood, while all the wide space lietween that
and the present hour is a blasted and forgotten
waste. You have perchance seen an old and
half obliterated portrait, and in the attempt to
have it cleaned and restored you may have seen
it fade away, while a brighter and a much more
perfi:ct picture, painted beneath is revealed to
view. This portrait, first drawn upon tlie can-
vas, is no inajit illustration of youth ; and though
it may be concealed by some after design, still
the original traits will shine through the outward
picture, giving it tone while fresli, and surviving
it in decay. Such is the fire-side — the great in-
stitution fumished by Providence for the educa-
tion of man. — Goodrich.
INl'LUENCE Ol' NATURE.
The induencc of nature in the formation of
character has been much insisted on by metaphy-
sicians, and not without ample reason. The
(jufllhics of men arc found to assimilate very
closely to the chaiactcristics of the country they
iidiabit. Thus tlie mountaineer Is bold, rugged,
hardy, independent, and fond of liberty. In
Eurojje, surrounded on every hand by despot-
ism. Alpine Switzerland ha.s preserved its politi-
cal independence for ages. But CKpecially is the
power of natural scenery witnessed in the nur-
ture of deep religious feeling.
" The groves were Clod's flr^t templefl."
Tlie first prayer uttered by man was breathed
to his Creator in a garden, among the olive
trees of Eden. The disciples of our Saviour lis-
tened to their Lord in tiie deep wilderness, in
the awful solitude of rugged mountains, Jn the
licart of mighty forests and by the shores of
ever-rushing rivers, the littleness of man, con-
trasting with the grandeur of creation, speaks to
his awakened soul of the omnipotence and good-
ness of God. Where men are banded together
in great cities, in the midst of splendors and tri-
umphs of art, they are apt to feel a pride and
self reliance ^\hich abandon them in the face of
nature. Apart from the frequent spectacle of
man's handiwork, the dweller in the country
learns how all human skill is impotent to imi-
tate the smallest feature in the great work of
creation ; to create the lightest blade of grass
that bends in the summer breeze; to fabricate
even the minutest grain of sand that sparkles by
the river shore. Then, as he lifts his eyes from
earth to heaven, and beholds at night the starry
host above him wheeling unerringly upon their
appointed courses, his mind cannot but acknowl-
edge the existence of God, and the immeasur-
able greatness of his attributes. — Life of Hosea
Gallon.
'Ti8 better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all. — Tfiutysc
A BElUTlFUL FIGURE.
Life is beautifully compared to a fountain fed
by a thousand streams, that perish if one be
dried. It is a silver cord, twisted with a thou-
sand strings, that part asunder if one be broken.
Frail and thoughtless mortals are surrounded by
innumerable dangers, which make it much more
strange that they escape so long, than that they
almost all perish suddenly at last. We are en-
compassed with accidents every day to crush the
mouldering tenements we inhabit. The seeds of
disease are planted in our constitutions by na^
turc. The earth and atmosphere whence we
draw the breath of life are impregnated with
death ; health is made to operate its own de-
struction ; the food that nourishes containing
the elements of decay; the soul that animates it,
by vivifying first, tends to wear it out by its own
action ; death lurks in ambush along the paths.
Notwithstanding this is the truth so palpably
confirmed by the daily example before our eyes,
how little do we lay it at heart ! We see our
friends and neighbors die among us, but how sel-
dom does it occur to our thoughts that our knell
shall perhaps give the next fruitless warning to
the world ! — Boston Transcript.
INDIAN SUPERSTITIONS.
The Indians believe that the thunder is a huge
bird, with green back and gray breast, and that
the flapping of his wings causes the thunder
(some faint resemblance to the mythological
birds of Jove, who carried tlic thunder in their
claws.) They imagine that the heavens are
supported by four larye poles, resembling large
trees ; that the big bird lives in the west, and is
only heard when flying east. This is easily ac-
counted for by the fact of their storms almost
invariably coming from the west. They have a
superstitious fi-ar of the aurora borealis, which
they call the "medicine fire." They believe that
it has the power of rendering them good shots
(an idea arising, I imagine, from the manner in
which the rays of light of an aurora dart ahout
in the heavens), and consequently worship it.
Of meteors and falling stars they have a great
dread; they believe that ihey are sent by the
great warriors who are in the *' happy hunting
grounds," to warn them of danger. — Sullivan's
Hambles in America.
POETRY.
Every belief, or non-belief, has found its poe-
try, excepting always modern materialism, as
represented by the utilitarian philosophy. There
is no speculation in ils eye — no man of genius
can make it beautiful, because it has not one
benutiful element in it, and because no man of
genius can believe it; its sole music is the chink
of money ; its main theological principle — the
gradual development of mud into man, and dirt
into deity — is as incapable of poetic treatment as
it is of scientific proof; and what, unless to place
it as a prime article in the museum of human
folly, can be done to a caput moiiuvm so hateful
and so helpless ? — Bards of the Bible.
THE CAPTAIN OF OUR SALVATION.
AVhen Antigonus heard some of his troops
rather despondingly say, '' How many are com-
ing against us ?'^ he asked, "But my soldiers,
how many do you reckon me for i"' And when-
ever we think of our foes, and then of the Cap-
tain of onr salvation, we may truly say more are
they that be with us than they that be with them.
Greater is He that is in us, ihan he that is in
tlie world. Who teaches our lingers to fight ?
Who provides for us ? Who lenevvs our
strength? What limits have his wisdom and
power '? Did he ever lose an action yet, or a
single private in his army ? — Jay.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
367
RUSSIAN POSSESSIONS IN AMERICA.
These possessions are ia a deplorable condi-
tion, from the ferocious warfare carried on by the
Indians against the whites, more especially on
the Island of Sitka. Conunually they menace
the city with conflagration and the inhabitants
with massacre ; nor does one week pass in w4iich
the governor is not obliged to prepare the inha-
bitants for self-defence ; and wherever a party of
the latter is found unprotected, they arc indis-
criminately slaughtered and horribly mutilated.
The perpetrators of these savage deeds are said
to be ft fine intelligent race ; but war is their pas-
sion, and their method of conducting it is, of
course, owing to their false ideas of warlike con-
duct. Considering that these fellows are sup-
plied with arms from foreign vessels, the Rus-
sians will have no small difficulty in maintaining
their possition against them.
A WATER DRINIiER,
Cobbett thus describes his own experience :
" In the midst of a society where wine or spirits
are considered as of little more value than wa-
ter, I have lived two years without either ; and
with no other drink but water, except when I
have found it convenient to obtain milk : not an
hour's illness, not a headache for an hour, not
the smallest ailment, not a restless nighf, not a
drowsy morning, have I known during these two
famous years of my life. The sun never rises
before me ; I have always to wait for him to
come and give me light to write by, while my
mind is in full vigor, and while nothing has
come to cloud its clearness."
AMERICAN CONSUL AT MARSEILLES.
It is stated that James L. Hodge, Esq., the
U. S. Consul at Marseilles, who figm-ed so con-
spicuously in the reception of Kossuth in that
city, took occasion, on the recent arrival of Louis
Napoleon there, to offer him special incense.
The New York Tribune says "he caused a body
of American sailors to be arrayed beside the
prince's path, and to greet him with hurrahs ; he
hung the portraits of Washington and Napoleon
together in front of his house, and finally he
illuminated the windows of his residence in
honor of the happy occasion." Can this be ti'ue?
It would hardly seem possible.
C03i:tIERCE OF THE PACIFIC.
Two hundred and sixty-one vessels arrived at
San Francisco in July and August. This is
equal to one thousand five hundred and sixty a
year, and it must be recollected that these ves-
sels are mostly of the largest class, 700 to 1800
tons burthen. Of this number, seventeen were
from New York, fourteen from Boston, and from
China twenty-six. The trade between China
and the PaciSc coast continues to increase rapid-
ly, and there is a diminution in the number of
Chinamen passengers arriving. The duties on
foreign goods this year are estimated at three
millions.
GREAT DISTRESS AT MADEIRA.
The fallui'e of the vintage, resulting from the
recent blight upon the grape, has produced the
greatest distress among the inhabitants of Ma-
deira, and threatens with absolute starvation
large masses of the laboring classes. The civil
governor of the island has issued a circular ac-
knowledging the impotence of the Portuguese
government to meet the emergency with any-
thing like adequate relief, and appealing to the
Christian sympathies of foreign nations for aid
to avert the impending calamity.
Dramatic. — Mr. Bunn was exceedingly clev-
er in his lecture entertainments, and but for the
abundance of evening amusements, just now,
would have reaped the pecuniary harvest that
the excellent character of his exhibitions so en-
tirely merited.
Vlrt natural, to be sure. — Since the in-
troduction of Croton water into New York, and
Cochituate into Boston, the milk business of both
cities has increased to an alarming extent. We
speak advisedly.
Maritime. — Mr. Hall, of East Boston, lias
now his eighty-founh ship on the stocks. This
place is already famous, all over the world, for
the clipper ships it has produced.
Its Origin. — The word London is of Sclavo-
nic origin, and signifies a town upon water. Lon
is the Sclavonic for water, and Bon city.
Publicity is the soul of justice.
Love, and love only, is the price of love.
The Alleghanians, at last accounts, were at
Sacramento.
In various parts of Boston they are erecting
buildings six or seven stories high.
The Japan expedition, it is said, will rendez-
vous at Annapolis.
Mr. Couldock, Mr. Burke and Miss Julia
TnrnbuU are at Buffalo.
The brain of Daniel Webster was thirty per
cent, larger than the average.
Professor Anderson is exhibiting at the Musi-
cal Fund Hall, Philadelphia.
Horace Greeley is going to devote himself to
something useful — having got sick of politics.
Should the Chinese emigration to California
continue, it may not be long before we shall see
a Chinaman in Congress.
A woman entered a store in New York, on
Wednesday week, complained that she was sick,
and fell dead.
There are immense submarine forests off Pat-
agonia and Terra del JFuego, attached to the
rocks at the bottom.
There are ten thousand miles of uncultivated
and unpopulated country in the north-western
part of the State of New York.
An iron bridge is to be erected across the
canal at Washington, at a cost of seven thou-
sand dollars.
Grapes should never be gathered until perfect-
ly ripe, for, unlike other fruits, they never ripen
after having been plucked.
Thomas M. Smith, the editor of the Virginia
Eecordef, died in the town of Buchanan, Va., a
few days ago.
Seventy-live thousand persons, male and fe-
male, are said to be employed in Massachusetts,
making boots and shoes.
"Man," says Adam Smith, "is an animal
that makes a bargain. No other animal does
this — no dog exchanges bones with another."
It is estimated that $12,000,000 will be ex-
pended in the construction of railroads in the
State of New York this year.
Three pounds, eight ounces, troy weight, is
the average weight of the brain of a male adult,
and three pounds, four ounces, of a female.
So level are the plains of South America, that,
in the space of nearly 300 square miles, not an
eminence one foot high can be found.
The prospect of having Catharine Hayes in
California, is the great topic of conversation,
among lovers of music, in that country.
Some western genius, in enumerating the vir-
tues of a new whetstone, says, it is wai'ranted to
put an edge upon dull business.
The New York Tribune has very credible in-
formation that an expedition against Cnba will
be fitted out in less than six months.
It is stated that Daniel Webster was never
out of order, and never called to order, during
the entire period spent by him in Congress.
The camphor tree is a native of Borneo and
Sumatra. The camphor is obtained by splitting
open the tree, when it is found in large pieces in
the interior.
A man named I. Woods, hung himself in Pe-
tersham, on Tuesday of last week. He was a
poor man, and was threatened with a law suit
by his creditors.
The newest notion of Boston, is a lady, who,
calling herself the " Veiled Vocalist," sings at
the Melodeon, and gives the proceeds of her con-
certs to the paupers.
The Wasliington National Monument has at-
tained a height of one hundred and eighteen
feet, and may reach one hundred and thi. ty be-
fore the close of the season.
Accidents from burning fiuid are now of so
frequent occurrence, that we cease to chronicle
them. They are noticed in pretty much every
paper we open.
Angus Taylor was t-hot dead, a few days
since, at Cheraw, S. C, by his brother. Martin
Taylor. They were firing at a mark, and quar-
relled about the best shot.
Among the convict'? in the Massachusetts
State Prison, are several who are under sentence
for life. The last received is Thomas Davis,
the murderer of his sister.
Among those who votfd in Newport, R^ode
Island, on Tuesday, was Nathan Munro, who is
one hundred years old. He voted for George
Washington at his first election.
A gentleman in Cincinnati, worth $10,000,
lost ev^iry cent of it, besides a few hundred dol-
lars he borrowed, in betting on the presidential
election.
In the Public Garden workmen are busily en-
gaged in filling up the marshy places with dirt.
New walks are being laid out, and other im-
provements are also being made.
The Buffalo Courier says the potato crop this
year will be uncommonly large and good. In
Genesee and Wyoming counties the yield was
never larger, and, so far as has been seen, it is
entirely free from lot.
At Brimswick, Giynn county, Georgia, no
polls were opened at the presidential election —
it being the deliberate opinion of the go^d peo-
ple there, that none of the candid ts were
worthy of support.
jTomgn iilltsceUang.
The river Indus drains an area of 400,000
square miles.
In Switzerland only one-fourth of the soil is
under cultivation.
It is noticeable that the Irish Catholic papers
exult in the prospect of the re-establishraent of a
French Empire.
According to the late census of France, there
are nearly a million and a half more women thau
men in that country.
Sir Thomas Mitchell, of Australia, has brought
out a new mode of propulsion for steamers. It
is called the Bomerang propeller.
Eumor via Paris says, that the Pope has just
appointed Dr. Dixon, Roman Catholic Primate
of Ireland, in place of Dr. Cullen.
The debtors* prisons of England contain many
thousands of persons who have been incarcerated
for years, and never expect to be liberated.
In Hungary, it is said that the idea obtains
that Kossuth has been proclaimed King of Ame-
rica, and that he is shortly to appear again in
Europe at the head of an immense army.
Many of the new five-franc pieces issued from
the French mint are defaced, and in modes which
does not evince any particular attachment to
" Napoleon the Little." His throat is frequently
gashed on these coins.
Lamartine, the French writer, has leased out
the farm given him by the Sultan of Turkey for
S4000 a year for twenty-five years. This is a
pretty present. It was given to Lamartine for
his work on the East, which pleased the Sultan
exceedingly.
Speculation, in England, which was so effect-
ually put at rest by the breakdown following the
great railroad mania in 1846, is now reviving,
and showing itself in the various interests of
com, cotton, iron, etc. " Stand from under," is
a wholesome caution abroad as well as at home.
A factory is going up at Saltaire, near Ship-
ley, England, where the area appropriated to the
building is computed at six acres, while the sev-
■eral floors in the mills, warehouses and sheds
form a superfices of 55,000 yards, or 11 1-2 acres.
It is owned by one man — Mr. Titus Salt — and
employs 4500 hands.
Parliament has granted a charter for the con-
struction of a line of telegraph from Quebec to
Detroit, 850 miles long, with branches 800 miles
long extending to the main towns near the route.
Poles for some 800 miles have already been put
up, and over 400 miles of wiring are finished,
and the whole will be finished by spring. The
line will cost about S250,000, and 1000 business
men have taken stock in it.
JJokfr's Subget
Banlrs of ©olir.
.... Three good meals a day is bad living.
.... There are no ugly loves, nor handsome
prisons.
He that can travel w^ell a-foot keeps a
good horse.
If you desire many things, many things
will seem but a few.
.... Let the letter stay for the post, and not
the post for the letter.
.... The use of money is all the advantage
there is in having money.
If thou hast wit and learning, add to it
wisdom and modesty.
.... Hast thou virtue ? — acquire also the
graces and beauties of virtue.
.... Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere
long thou shalt sell thy necessaries.
As man cultivates his intellectual facul-
ties, he learns to mistrust his instincts.
CiBsar did not merit the triumphal car
more than he tliat conquers himself.
.... Of two friends death makes but one un-
happy— the survivor ; but absence makes two.
.... Troops would never be deficient in cour-
age, if they could only know how deficient in it
their enemies were.
It is with books as with men ; neither
giants nor dwarfs are apt to live so long as those
of moderate proportions.
A poor spirit is poorer than a poor
purse ; a very few pounds a year would ease a
man of the scandal of avarice.
.... Virtue is not more exempt than vice
from the ills of fate, but contains within itself
always an energy to resist tlieni, sometimes an
anodyne to soothe.
.... No matter how firmly we believe an
opinion, it is always strengthened by another's
assent; as aquatic plants, though living in the
water, are refreshed by a shower.
Regret for past happine?s is always
stronger than the hope of a future one; and, like
Milton, we paint our Paradise Lost in more lively
colors than Paradise Regained.
.... One of the most important female quali-
ties is sweetness of temper. Heaven did not
give to %voman insinuation and persuasion in or-
der to be imperious ; it did not give them a sweet
voice to be employed in scolding.
.... A religion that does not constrain a man
to pay his just debts, when he has the ability to
do so, is worth nothing. Tlmt he can escape
the liabilities through some defect of human law,
will never justify him at the bar of conscience
and God, for defrauding others of their due.
What is next to an oyster 1 The sliell.
Why is Ireland like a bottle of whiskey ? Be-
cause it has a Cork in it.
Wliy is a newspaper like an army 1 Because
it has leaders, columns and reviews.
Which was General Taylor's most favorite
march? Why, March the fourth. {It was a
Capitol march.)
The popularity in politics is to see your name
in large type posted to a fence. Somebody will
inquire who you are, and when the first rain
comes you will disappear.
Vermonters live to a great age, as is well
known. There arc two men so old that they
have forgotten who they are, and there are no
neighbors who can remember.
A southern editor in giving an account of
some rascals who stole two horses belonging to
preachers at a camp meeting, says it should teach
clergymen to " watch as well as pray."
Dobbs says, " the best cure for low spirits is
to subscribe for a newspaper and pay for it."
He has known that to succeed when all other
remedies failed. Asafcetida is " no whar" com-
pared to it.
The man who thought he could learn to
make boots by swallowing "sherry cobblers,"
has just got out a work, in which he attempts
to prove that by eating hops you will acquire a
knowledge of waltzing. Queer customer, isn't
he?
The young man whose ambition towered so
high that he would not follow his father's pro-
fession upon any consideration, finally obtained a
situation commensurate with his talent — that of
grinding a street organ for a dancing monkey.
Genius will triumph.
A friend in California writes us that he is so
hard run for victuals, and other edibles, that
nothing but a miracle or highway robbery can
save him from starvation. For two weeks, he
says, he lived on a piece of oil cloth boiled with
an old boot to give it a meaty flavor. Here's a
situation as is a situation.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Pictoeial Drawtnq
EooM Companion elegantly hound in cloth, with gilt edgea
and back, and illumined sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Between Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING NEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLUMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many iilastrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast ;unount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illuatmtionfl.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for Tliree Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR MlOl,
AS ELEGANT, MORAL AND KETINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, -written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. In politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns ;
therefore malung it emphatically,
A PAPEU FOR THE MILLION,
AND A WELCOME VISITOR TO THE H0:ME CIRCLE.
It is generally aclcnowledged that the Flag is now the
leading; weekly paper in the United States^ and its literary
contents are allowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TERMS TO SITBSCEIBERS.
1 subscriber, one year, . . S2 00
3 subscriberB, " 5 00
4 " *' 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " ' 20 00
One copy of the Flag op ods Union, and one copy of the
PiCTORL\.L Drawing-Room COMPANION, one 3'ear, for So 00.
[C/^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
0=- AU ordtrs should be ae/dreased. POST PAID, to the
POBLISHER OF THE FLAQ OP OUB UNION.
\* The Flag can be obtained at any of the newspaper
depots ill the United States, and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUR CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
Publisher and Proprjetoh, Boston, Mi^g.
368
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DHAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A SKETCH OF TURKISH JUSTICE.
The Cadi go'^i^ out in the morninf? without
mnkiuK known his intended route ; takes Iiis
■walk with suitable attendants, and stops at the
first bazaar. He scats himself at random in one
of the shops, and examines the weij^hls, meas-
ures and nierehnndize. Ho lends an ear to all
<-omphiints, interrogates ony nierehant aecused
of infraetion of law, and then, without court or
jury, and es|)eeially without delay, pronounces
judj;;ment, applies the penalty, and goes on in
(juest of other delinquents. In these cases, how-
ever, the punishment is of a different character.
Notwithstandinjj; tlie identity of the crime, he
cannot treat the oilendin/^ merchant as a com-
mon thief ; that would have n prejudicial effect
on commerce. The penally is {graduated thus :
the mildest, confiscation ; the moderate, closing
the shop ; the severest, exposure. This lost is
inflicted in a singular manner. The culprit is
placed with his back against his shop, and is
compelled to raise himself on his toes until the
weight of his whole body rests on them ; his ear
is then nailed to the door or shutter of bis shop.
This punishment lasts two, four, or six Jiours.
It is true, the criminal may abridge its duration,
whenever he chooses to let himself down ; but
the Turkish merchant is jealous of his reputa-
tion, and nothing but the last necessity would
induce him to resemble a thief by the mutilation
of his cars.
I stopped in front of one of these wretches,
who had just been nailed up. I was disposed to
compassionate his case, but Mohammed told me
he was an hahiiue, and that if I would observe
his ear closely, I should find it was like a cullen-
der. This changed the current of my sympa-
thies, and, as he was to remain some time longer,
I ceased to regret his sufferings, and rejoiced in
the opportunity of making a sketch. I drew
forth crayons and paper, and begged the rest to
continue their route with M. Mayer, leaving Mo-
hammed to assist me in any embarrassment.
But Mayer would not quit me ; so we three re-
mained, and the others proceeded on their way.
My picture was composed ; the criminal, nail-
ed by his ear, was standing stiff and motionless
on the extreme points of his great tocr; ; and
seated near him, on the sill of the door, was the
guard, charged, with seeing the punishment duly
executed, smoking a pipe. The quantity of to-
baeco in the pipe seemed to be graduated to the
time the punishment was to continue. Around
these two personages was a demi-circle of idlers.
We took our places at one side, and I commenced
my task.
After a time the culprit, finding he had noth-
ing to expect from the crowd — among whom,
perhaps, he recognized some of his customers —
hazarded a word to the guard.
"Brother," said he, "one law of our holy
Prophet is, that men should help one another."
The guard seemed to take no exception to the
precept in the abstract, and continued quietly to
emoke.
" Brother," resumed the patient, " did you not
hear me V
The guard made no other reply, than a large
puff of smoke that ascended to his neighbor's
nose.
" Brother," still persisted the man, " one of
us can aid the other, and do a thing acceptable
to Mahomet."
The puffs of smoke succeeded each other with
a regularity that extinguished the poor fellow's
hopes.
" Brother," cried the dependent, with a dolo-
rous voice, "put a stone
under my heels, and I
will give you a piastre.'
No reply.
" Two piastres."
A pause.
*' Three piastres."
Smoke.
*'Four piastres."
" Ten piastres," said
the guard, quietly.
The ear and the purse
of the man held a par-
ley, which was visible
in the countenance. At
length the pain con-
quered, and the ten pi-
astres rolled at the feet
of the guard, who count-
ed them with great de-
liberation, put them in
his purse, rested his pipe
against the wall, and,
picking up a pebble
about as large as the
egg of a tom-tit, placed
itunderthe man's heels.
" Brother," said the
culprit, " I feel nothing
under my feet."
"A stone is there,
however," answered the
guard, resuming his
seat and pipe, " but, it
is tnie, I selected it in
reference to your price.
Give me a tatari (five
francs) and I will place
a stone under you so
appropriate to your ne-
cessities, that you shall
sigh for it when you
reach paradise."
The result may be
anticipated — the guard
had his money, and the
merchant his stone. —
How the affair termina-
ted I do not know
A TURKISH GENTLEMAN.
[See " Turkey and the Turks,'
page 35S, for description.]
THE RICE-BIRD.
The cultivators of rice in America sometimes
suffer severely from the depredations of the rice-
bird. This bird is about six or seven inches in
length, its head and the under part of its body
are black, the upper part is a mixture of black,
white, and yellow, and the legs are red. Im-
mense flocks of these birds are seen in the island
of Cuba, where the rice crop precedes that of
Carolina; but when from the hardening of the
grain the rice in that quarter is no longer agree-
able to them, they migrate towards the north,
and pass over the sea in such numerous parties,
as to be sometimes heard in their flights by sail-
ors frequenting that course. These birds appear
in Carolina when the rice is yet milky. Their
attacks upon the grain while in this state are so
destructive as to bring considerable loss upon
the farmers. The birds arrive in the United
States very lean, but thrive so well upon their
favorite diet, that during the three weeks to
which their visit is usually limited, they become
excessively fat, so as to fly with diflSculty, and
when shot, to be burst with the fall. So soon as
the rice begins to harden here, they retire to
other parts, remaining in one place only so long
as the rice continues green. When the food en-
tirely fails, they have recourse for their subsist-
ence to insects, until the maize begins to form
its grains, and then the milky substance which
these contain is devoured with the same avidity
that marks their attacks upon the rice-plant.
Extensive flocks are found during the spring and
summer in New York and Ehode Island ; there
they breed, quitting their young for the south-
ward, in time for the tender rice-grains of Cuba.
It is remarkable that the males and females do
not migrate in company, the females being
always the first to perform their voyage. These
birds are eaten as a great delicacy^ and the song
of the male is said to be melodious. — Librari/ of
Entertaining Knouiedge.
VALLEY OF fllEXICO.
We began our march early next morning, and
kept winding round hills covered with thick
woods of pines, and carpeted with a variety of
wild flowers, until about eleven o'clock, when
we reached a meson on the summit of the moun-
tain, and obtained a view of the far-famed valley
of Mexico. Description is tame when one tries
to convey the impression which this scene usu-
ally makes on all who see it for the first time.
It IS certainly the most magnificent view in Mex-
ico; perhaps, of the peculiar description, the
first in the world. At an elevation of about
.'iOOO feet, the spectator sees, as if spread at his
feet likeamap, the wholeof the valley of Mexico,
its circumference at the base of the mountains
which form the sides of the mighty basin, 120
miles, and at the crest of the mountains 200
miles. The whole of the plain, from the height
on which the spectator stands, is distinctly taken
in at one view, and the most minute details are
distinctly defined and delineated, owing to the
remarkable transparency and purity of the at-
mosphere. The towers and spires of the city of
Mexico, twenty five miles distant, are distinctly
seen peering out from the foliage and trees ;
almost the only part of the valley where trees
are to be seen, by-the by, is that round the city.
The remainder of the valley presents the uniform
appearance of a large green plain, dotted with
white churches, spires, and haciendas, and con-
taining several large sheets of water, the remains
of the lakes which are said to have once nearly
covered the whole valley. Several small insu-
lated mountains may also be distinctly discerned,
the only large objects that rise on the surface of
the vast unbroken green plain. The mountains
of Popocatepcl, and Iztaecihuati, its brother gi-
ant, rise about twenty miles to the left, and the
spectator is standing, though owing to the bright
atmosphere and the sun shining on the snow, they
seem only two or three miles distant. The whole
of this beautiful valle}' is hemmed in by a com-
plete circle of stupendously rugged and dark-
looking mountains, the rough but sublime set-
ting of nature to one of her most inimitable pic-
tures, a most perfect combination of the sublime
and beautiful. Yes, seen from that elevation,
the valley of Mexico is a most glorious and mag-
nificent sight, "but 'tis distance lends enchant-
ment to the view," and as we descend into it, its
beauties vanish. The lakes become marshes,
the fields are not cultivated, the villages are mud,
and the inhabitants wretched looking peons, in
rags and squalid misery. We encamped outside
of a small town called Chalco, on the lake of
that name, and near the left edge of the valley.
On descending the hill, where we lay two days,
Gen, Scott in the meantime having reconnoitered
the enemy's fortifications at the Penon, decided
in trying if another way could not be found to
reach the city. Col. Duncan having satisfied
Gen. Scott that a road for artillery could be cut
from Chalco to Augustine, Gen. Worth's divis-
ion moved in that direction on the 15rh, followed
by Twiggs' and Pillow's. We marched by short
day's stages over a terribly bad road, and on the
18th we arrived at Augustine, within a few miles
of the enemy's position. — Adventures of a Soldier
in Mexico.
A TURKISH AKABAT, OR LADY S CARRIAGE.
See " Turltoy and the Turkp,
page 358, lor descriptioD.I
USES OF SILK.
Silk is an agreeable and healthy material.
Used in dress, it retains the electricity of our
bodies; in the drapery of our rooms and furni-
ture covers, it reflects the sunbeams, giving them
a quicker brilliancy, and it heightens colors with
a charming light. It
possesses an element of
cheerfulness, of which
the dull surface of wool
and linen are destitute.
It also promotes clean-
liness ; will not readily
imbibe dirt, and does
not harbor vermin as
kindly as wool does.
Its continually growing
use by man, according-
ly, is beneficial in many
ways. Grace and beau-
ty, even, owe something
to silk. You cannot
stiffen it like thick wool-
en or linen, without de-
stroying all its gloss
and value. The more
silk ribbons, therefore
— the more silk ker-
chiefs and robes are
used, instead of linen
and wool — the more
graceful becomes the
outward aspect of man-
kind. A number of
strange, grotesque fash-
ions, originating in the
use of linen, would
never have been invent-
ed during the more gen-
era! employment of silk.
The fluttering ribbon,
the rustling and flowing
skirts of silk, the silk
kerchief loosely knotted
round the neck, have
materially contributed
to make our customs
more natural and pleas-
ing to the eye. It is
therefore satisfactory to
see this gay material
becoming every day the
property of a wider cir-
cle of consumers. —
H&T Kohl.
>^-,
F. GLBASON,
[ CORNER BROMFIELD
AND TKEMONT ST3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1852.
S2 PER VOLUME. ]
10 Crs. SINGLE. ]
Vol- m. No. 24— Whole No. 76.
MERCHANTS' EXCHANGE, NEW YORR.
This noble structure — ihe "RiaUo"of New
York, where merchants most do congregate — is
located between Wall Street and Exchange
Place, William and Hanover Streets. It is built
in the most substantial form, of blue Massachu-
setts g:ranite, and is 200 feet long, 171 to 144
feet wide, 77 feet high to the top of the cornice,
and 124 to top of dome, which in the street can-
not be seen. The front on Wall Street has a
recessed portico of eighteen massive Grecian
Ionic columns — twelve in front and six in rear.
They are thirty-eight feet high, four feet four
inches in diameter, each formed from a solid
block of stone, and weighing forty-five tons.
Besides numerous rooms for various purposes,
the rotunda in the centre is eighty feet in diam-
eter, with four recesses, making the length and
breadth 100 feet; the whole eighty feet, sur-
mounted by a dome resting in part on eight Co-
rinthian columns of Italian marble, forty-one
feet high, lighted by a skylight twenty-five feet
in diameter. It will hold three thousand per-
sons. The granite columns cost S3000 each.
They are the largest whole columns in the world,
with the exception of those in a church in St.
Petersburg. The architect was Isaiah Rogers.
The building cost a little more than a million of
dollars. It belongs to a corporation, and its
rooms command enormous rents. It contains a
very extensive reading-room for merchant sub-
scribers. The chamber of commerce holds its
sessions here, and the board of brokers occupy
the rotunda at certain hours of the day. The
stranger can visit all parts of the building. We
feel confident that no reader of the Pictorial will
visit New York without taking time to examine
this fine piece of architecture, so imposing and
grand in every particular. As a monument of
enterprise and liberal expenditure, it has no rival
even in New York. Like nearly all great enter-
prises, when this was proposed, it was deemed
by a very large portion of the citizens as very
chimerical in its propriety or usefulness; hut
what merchant in Wall Street would now part
with this leviathan exchange at any cost ? Our
artist, Mr. Wade, has done himself credit in the
excellent and perfect representation which he
has given us of this public building. Few men
in this country or England can equal his pencil
in its peculiar sphere, and particularly is he at
home in architecture and maritime views. Our
readers have often met with his drawings in
these pages, to which he will still regularly and
frequently lend his aid. Our readers will thank
us for this engraving as being one richly worthy
of preservation. In this connection we may
add that we shall continue to illustrate every
public building of note in the country. No mat-
ter how far distant, or how elaborate the design,
our artists will be on the spot, and our readers
will reap the benefit of our enterprise. Nothing
of interest in this or any other country shall es-
cape us; our aim is to illustrate everything of
public interest and everybody of general note.
The subscribers to the Pictorial will therefore
see how valuable a record of the present and the
past they are preserving, by regularly filing and
binding the illumined paper we send to them;
and few discerning people, especially families,
will be without our paper, so lifelike in its pre-
sentations of scenes and localities.
VIEW OP THE MERCHANTS EXCHANGE, WALL STREET, NEW YORK CITY.
370
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleabon, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts.
[written EXPKESSLT fob GLEASON'S nCTOHIAL.]
t
ULa^
THE SIGN OF THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Talc of the Ciiiii]) and Court of Bonaparte.
BY B. PERLEY POOEE.
[continued . ]
CHAPTER XVII.— [continued.]
The justice of peace was there ; and, his face
buried in his Iiands, there sat the supposed crimi-
nal, surrounded by soldiers. Unfortunate Os-
manli, his cup of misery was now tilled to over-
flowinfi, and all that night had he pictured, in
horrible colors, the scene he was now an actor
in. Bat he was not, with all his soul-nerving
preparation, expecting to see Madame Wilmot.
Nor had that lady but glanced at him, ere she
left Judith, pushed herself through the soldiers,
and throwing her arms around Osmanli's neck,
■with a convulsive shriek, exclaimed :
"My son! my son! Thank Heaven, I have
found you !"
For this recognition, so long desired, and yet
under such circumstances brought to pass, the
young man was not prepared, but every emotion
of his heart chilled, when he heard the well-
known voice of Judith, speaking in low and ter-
rified tones :
" Osmanli ! O, Osmanli ! Can it be that you
— the son of my friend, the possessor of my heart
■ — can it be that you muidcred my poor old fa-
ther f 0 no ! no ! It cannot, must not be so."
And with an unearthly burst of uncontrollable
grief, she sank into a chair, insensible. The
justice humanely disposed with her further at-
tendance, and she was carried back to her cham-
ber. Madame Wilmot stood by her unfortunate
son, her arms clasped around his neck, and her
scalding tears betokening the agitation of her
troubled heart.
"Young man," said the justice, "can you
not explain the fearful evidence against you '?
If sOj now is the time to speak."
Gently removing his mother's encircling arms,
Osmanli rose, and his eye flashed with indignant
energy.
"What have I to explain?" he asked, with
an eloquence that can only come from the heart.
"I am a soldier — a French soldier. I have
faced death, and your Egyptian commander will
vouch for my valor. Circumstances have for a
time kept me from the world — they have until
the past moment kept me from a mother's love.
But can you imagine, sir, that last night, when
I first saw yon victim, when I hailed him with
joy, when my heart rejoiced at the idea of again
meeting his daughter "? 0, think you that at
such a moment I would dip my hands in his
blood, and stab him like a ruffian ? If you do
think so, sir, you know me not."
" Your appeal is eloquent," said the justice,
"and if assertions could overbalance facts, I
might acquit you. But tlie testimony implica-
ted you so directly, that I must order your im-
prisonment, to answer a charge of wilful murder."
No sooner did Madame Wilmot hear the ap-
palling decision, than she burst into a flood of
tears, and her loaded lieart was thus relieved
from a load of sorrow too mighty to be borne.
Osmanli shuddered, but drawing himself up, he
replied, in a clear tone :
"X submit. I bow before my fate. And
should I be condemned to death, I shall walk
fearlessly towards the guillotine, as a step to-
wards a tribunal where all testimony is known,
and where no secrets are hidden." Then cast-
ing a look of mingled agony and pity at Madame
Wilmot, he continued : "As for you, my long
sought mother, you find me as undcfilcd by this
foul crime as I was when you first heard my in-
fant voice. Pray for mc, sec me if you can, and,
0 do not let Judith curse me as her father's
murderer. You, my heart tells me, do not ac-
cuse mc."
" Accuse you !" exclaimed Madame Wilmot,
in a tone of piercing anguish. " Can I think
that the Almighty would restore my son, after a
life-separation, W'th his hands red with the blood
of him whose daughter he loved ? Never ! No,
my noble-hearted boy, I will not desert you.
My soul within me tells me that you are inno-
cent, and that your name will never be branded
with ignominy. One kiss, and then go to meet
your fate like a man. You will see mc often."
And it was there, surrounded by armed guards,
with the awful corpse before them in accusing
terror, that the mother enibraced her son for the
first time. Joy surcharged their hearts, and rap-
turous love, unrestrained by fear of the future,
possessed their every faculty.
They parted. Madame AVilmot, after a few
hurried words of comfort to the agonized Judith,
hastened to see General Bonaparte, and Osmanli,
heavily ironed, w^as conveyed to the old prison
near Notre Dame. His heart sank within him as
he w^as conveyed along the gloomy corridor, and
the door of his cell creaked on its hinges, but, as
he entered, the sergeant of his guard pressed his
hand. It was the grasp of a brother, and his
sad thoughts were cheered by one word, spoken
in a low tone of voice. That consoling, hope-
inspiring word, accompanied by a mystic grasp,
"was :
" Courage !"
And throughout the long day, when the un-
happy prisoner thought over the varied events
of the preceding twenty-four hours, there came
shining through the gloom — "courage." It
nerved his sad heart, and inspired him with hope.
The faint light which had penetrated through
the thickly barred window at last grew dim, and
as night came on, an awful stillness reigned in
the prison, only interrupted by the deep tones of
the neighboi-ing cathedral bells, as they pealed
forth the successive hours. Ac last, from sheer
exhaustion, he fell asleep, and was awakened by
the light of a lantern, held before his eyes.
" Hush 1" whispered a strange voice, and sit-
ting up upon his straw couch, Osmanli saw the
sergeant who had inspired him wiih hope.
" You don't remember me, conyade ?" whis-
pered the soldier. "Never mind, but I remem-
ber you. Saperlotte, as I told the boys, to have
a comrade who had saved Napoleon's life ar-
rested by the black-coats, and locked up like a
pickpocket. In short, brother Osmanli, the
guard to-night are all from the grenadier corps
which once surprised you near Grand Cairo,
after you had broken the ' little eorporal'.s' sword,
Besides, wc are most of us bound to you by a
'mystic tie' — so up, fellow, and march."
Osmanli's thanks impulsively burst from his
eyes in tears, but the soldier motioned to him to
be silent, and to follow. They stepped out into
the corridor, and the sergeant, after re-locking
the door, cautiously led the way, Osmanli fol-
lowing. In a few moments they reached the
guard room, where a dozen stalwort fellows wel-
comed their old Egyptian friend, and in a few
moments he was completely uniformed, his long
hair was reduced to the regimental cut, and his
whole appearance was so changed that none but
the most practised eyes could have recognized
him.
"Bravo!" said the sergeant, when the cos-
tume was pronounced perfect. " Elints and
scabbards I ))ut you are a grenadier of tiie first
water. Now lay down on a mattress and Huioke
until daylight, when the guard will he relieved,
and you can marcli with us to the barracks.
Then, my brother, you can go where you please.
Not a word of thanks now, and pleasant dreams
to you."
Never was there an escape better planned —
never was one more successfully carried out.
And when, at an early hour the next morning,
Madame Wilmot visited the prison, accompa-
nied by an ollicer in command of a guard, the
prisoner they sought was not to be found. Bona-
parte had signed an order, claiming him as be-
longing to the army, and only subject to a court
martial, and Madame Wilmot was to sh.are his
preliminary confinement. But, to her astonish-
ment, the keeper of the prison declared that Os-
manli must have escaped. The turnkeys, when
closely questioned, admitted that they had drunk
with tiie guard to the health of General Bona-
parte, and afterwards had perhaps slept on their
posts. But the inspectors of the night were
positive that they had made their accustomed
rounds, and that all was quiet, except the tread
of the numerous sentinels. It was a mysterious,
unaccountable afi'air, and puzzled the officials not
a little. As for Madame Wilmot, while she
I'cjoiced that her son was thus probably delivered
from ignominy, she offered up a silent prayer to
Heaven that he might be restored to her arms.
CHAPTER XVHI.
PROCLAMATION OF TIIE HEPUBLIC.
The morning was cold and dreary, yet at an
early hour all the general officers in Paris were
on horseback, on their way to the residence of
General Bonaparte. Cavalcade after cavalcade
arrived, and were admitted into the court-yard,
exciting the curiosity of a large body of specta-
tors, who could not divine what was about to
take place. No review had been announced, no
festive preparations had been made, and yet every
military man of note made his appearance, and
followed his comrades into the court-yard. Mu-
rat, with his long curls and gorgeous uniform —
La Salle, with his honor-scarred cheek — Moreau,
pale and thoughtful — Andreossy, powerful as the
brigade of dragoons whose uniform he wore —
Jourdan, the lion-hearted — Lefevre, the invinci-
ble— all, in short, were there. All were in full
uniform, attended by their brilliant groups of
staff-officers, and as each cavalcade passed
through the assembled populace, its leader was
complimented by allusions to his well known
victories. Last of all, came a tall, fine looking
man, in citizen's dress. It was Bernadotte, and
his compressed lip betokened his disappointment,
for he had a presentiment that Bonaparte was
about to do what he had long wished others to
do for himself. Power was to be concentrated,
and a strong arm, wielding a good sword, was
to rule France.
An hour passed, and the crowd without had
swelled to thousands, when the sound of trum-
pets checked the curious in their speculations.
Three regiments of cavalry, the flower of the
Paris garrison, made their way through the
masses, and drew up in an adjacent boulevard.
What their officers had been ordered to do, the
troopers knew not, but each man who was ques-
tioned whispered that he had rations in liis va-
lise, and his holsters full of ball-cartridges for
his carbine.
Something was evidently on foot.
A horseman came up at full gallop, and called
upon the people to make way for a state mes-
senger.
" Where are you from V inquired a score of
voices.
" From the council now in session at the Tuil-
eries," was the reply, " and I have a decree for
General Bonaparte. Let me pass." And as
the massive gates closed after him, the wonder
increased.
Soon a shout was heard within : " Long live
the Republic ! Long live Bon.aparte !" The
multitude without took up the cry — the cavalry
echoed it back, and soon all that section of the
mighty metropolis resounded with : " Long live
Bonaparte!"
The gates swang wide upon their hinges, and
Bonaparte rode forth, mounted upon a noble
gray charger. He wore the uniform of his grade,
his long hair partially concealed his pale cheeks,
and his eye flashed with daring. Behind him
were his generals, war-worn and bearing marks
of many a fiery baptism upon their bronzed
countenanees. Before him, as he emerged into
the streets, was the Paris populace — that terrible
multitude, who-se hands still reeked with the
blood of their murdered fiovereigns. Checking
his horse, iie raised his hat and cried, in a tom-
juanding tone of voice :
"Long live tiie Republic !"
But tiie people and the military suite respond-
ed with an enthusiastic shout:
" Long live Bonaparte !"
The general's face fiushed with pride, and ho
gave the order " Forward lo the Tuileries."
From that moment until his star paled bfforc
British gold, Napoleon Bonaparte ruled France.
Let U3 now return to O-smanli, who marched
away from prison with his deliverers. But ere
the guard could reach the barracks, they met ihe
regiment, and were ordered to fall into the ranks.
This was an awkward dilemma, especially as
none of the soldiers knew where they were march-
ing, but there was no altei-native. Osmanli fell
in, with his friends, and they all were relieved
when they found that they were marciiing out of
the city. On, on, they followed the inspiring
martial music, nor was the word "halt" given
until the column had entered the shades of the
park of St, Cloud. That night, Osmanli biv-
ouacked with the regiment, and such was the
confusion that no officer remarked a new face iu
the ranks.
Early the next morning, the members of the
legi:^lative bodies began to arrive at St. Cloud,
to where they had been adjoumtd. Guards were
posted throughout the park and the palaee, and
Osmanli found himself stationed in the orangery,
where the Council of Five Hundred soon began
to assemble. The members were in a high state
of excitement, as tiie Parisians had shown no
discontent at Bonaparte's assumption of power,
and the session commenced amid excitement of
the wildest description. General Bonaparte's
brother Lucien was president, but he had few
partizans, and there was soon a storm of abuse
and vehement denunciation, mingled with cries
of " Down with the dictator ! Death to the new
Cromwell ! Let us die rather than submit !"
At this critical juncture, Bonaparte entered
the hall, and approached the president's chair.
The tempest now became a hurricane, and just
as he reached the centre of the hall, a hundred
voices shouted " Death to the tyrant." Leaving
their seats, they rushed towards him, and one, a
Corsican, aimed a dagger at his throat. Luckily
for Bonaparte, the grenadiers on duty no sooner
saw how he was menaced, than they hastened to
the room, and Thome, casting his arm before the
assassin, received tlie glittering steel. Another
deputy had drawn a weapon, but Osmanli seized
him, and arrested his blow.
For the first and only time, Bonaparte's iron
nerves were shaken. He could brave the horrors
of warfare, but not this civic ruffianism, and with
a hurried word of thanks to his preservers, he
staggered rather than walked into the open air.
There, mounting his horse, he ordered the drums
to heat " to the colors," and as the troops sur-
rounded him, in a hollow square, their serried
ranks restored his wonted vigor.
" Comrades !" said he, and his voice rang
like a clarion, " I was about to point out to yon-
der mob the means of saving the republic, and
of restoring our honor. They answered me with
drawn daggers. What more could England
have desired ? Comrades, I have led you to
fjxme — to glory — to honor ! Can I now rely
upon you V
" Yes ! yes I We swear to uphold you !"
shouted every man, and putting their tall bear-
skin caps on their bayonets, they waved them in
manifestation of their joyful allegiance. Soon
the beat of the drums restored order. Com-
mands were issued. Companies marched in
different directions, and one took possession of
the Council Hall, driving the refractory members
out of the windows, which were near the ground.
The bristling line of bayonets was an unanswer-
able argument, and the valiant orators retreattd
with such undignified precipitation that they left
their hats and scarfs, as they crowded through
the narrow outlet. Leaping to the earth, they
ran away like frightened sheep througli the park,
and tiie dynasty of the military ruler was estab-
lished.
Josephine, who had urged Bonaparte to take
this important step, awaited his return with
heartfelt anxiety. Sometimes her fondest hopes
seemed about to be realized, and she imagined
that the prediction of the Creole forlunc-tcUer
was about to be fulfilled. Then gloomy fears
would fill her with apprehension, lest the bold
game should be lost, in which case a sealTold
would be her husband's portion— dishonor her
lot. At last the sound of trumpets iittraetcd her
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAWING ROOM COMPANION.
Oi I
to tke window, and Bonaparte, with a numerous
suite, galloped into the court-yard. Dismount-
ing, he saluted his escort, and was hailed with
loud shouts of " Long li\'e the consul !" Jose-
phine knew that he was successful, and she hast-
ened to the door to greet her warrior husband,
in a delirium of proud joy.
That night, Madame Wilmot called, and was
permitted to see Josephine, who listened with
sympathy to her sad recital. Judith had fol-
lowed her father's remains to their final resting-
place, and her tirst wretchedness had become
chastened by that self controlling philosophy
which is one of the blessings of grief. But of Os-
manli the poor woman could bring no tidings,
though she confidently asserted his innocence.
"While they were conversing, Bonaparte entered
the room. He at first manifested some displea-
sure at finding a stranger with Josephine, but
when he saw who it was, his countenance bright-
ened up.
"I have it!" he exclaimed. "I thought I
knew hira, although those rascally cut-throats
i-ather disconcerted me."
"Who'?" eagerly asked Madame "Wilmot.
" Osmanli':!"
" The same, my good woman, if I am not
much mistaken — "
"And he was doing no harm'?" she inter-
rupted.
" Harm ! Why he was saving my life ; a fa-
vorite movement of his, with which I find no
fault."
" Thank God ! Thank God !" ejaculated Ma-
dame Wilmot. " But where can I find my son V
" You shall see him to-morrow moraing, my
friend, although I cannot imagine how he be-
came transferred from a bolted cell into the
ranks of my grenadier regiment. But they are
strange fellows, those grenadiers, and seldom
wrong. Wait until to morrow, and you will see
them."
And Madame "Wilmot returned to Judith,
who was equally delighted to hear the intelli-
gence. Still, although she could not believe
that Osmanli was her father's murderer, she
could but shudder at the thought that such a
fearful accusation bung over him. A heavy
cloud eclipsed all the pleasant emotions of her
heart, and she feared that the affection she enter-
tained for Osmanli could never blossom again.
Midnight was marked by the cathedral bell,
and as the other city clocks pealed forth an ir-
regular response, a tall man, wrapped in a cloak,
rang at the house where Judith resided. He
asked the half-awakened porter for Madame
"Wilmot, but ere he could persuade the stupid
sen'ant to ask that lady to receive his visit, she
came down stairs. Sleep had not visited her
eyes, and as the knock reverberated thi-ough the
house, she fancied that it might be Osmanli.
Again she was doomed to disappointment, for
she knew not the stranger.
" Madame," said he, " I am a gentleman, and
a friend to the young man who is said to be your
son. If you will accompany me, I can convince
yon of his innocence of the murder of Mordecai
Fezenzac."
"I know you not," she replied, "but your
manner is that of an honorable man, who will
not add to the misfortunes of a lacerated iieart.
Permit me to attire myself, and I will cheerfully
accompany you."
Hastening up stairs, she soon descended, and
the stranger handed her into a coach. A rapid
half-hour's drive, in perfect silence, and they
stopped near the cathedral of Notre Dame.
Alighting, Madame Wilmot was escorted, with
the precautions we have already described, down
into the catacombs. And there, stretched upon
a bed of agony, lay the once brilliant Colonel
Margry. He had endeavored, the previous morn-
ing, to cor.Tp some of the soldiers formerly un-
der his command. But they refused to listen to
his seductive promises, and when he unluckily
denounced General Bonaparte, they nearly bea^t
him to death. Nothing but the exertions of an
ofiicer saved his life, and as it was, his proud
heart was broken by the indignity. Managing
with difficulty to reach the catacombs, he threw
himself at the feet of the Count de Vergennes,
praying a shelter while life lasted. Although
detesting him, the count's noble nature could
not refuse this request, and he sent for a physi-
cian. But it was too late, and the doctor, with
an ominous shake of the head, said that a con-
fessor would be more serviceable.
So numerous were those connected with the
royalist plot, that it was an easy matter for the
count to summons a reverend brother — and the
priest who came, curiously enough, was a mem-
ber of the lodge where Osmanli and Fezenzac
had met, on the night when the last mentioned
was slain. What then was his delight, when,
after confessing a black catalogue of crimes, the
dying man exculpated Osmanli by avowing him-
self the murderer of Judith's father. He had
intended to stab the young Mameluke, but the
unfortunate Jew, in borrowing Osmanli's cloak,
sealed his doom. By refusing absolution, the
priest compelled his penitent to acknowledge his
guilt, and Madame Wilmot arrived in time to
hear the very justice who had sentenced her son,
receive the deposition which triumphantly pro-
claimed his innocence.
The next day, as the grenadier regiment re-
entered its barracks at Paris, a staffofEccr ap-
proached the colonel with a summons for Ser-
geant Thome and Private Osmanli to appear
before the consul, whose life they had protected
at St. Cloud. This order, so gratifying to the
sergeant, was the climax to Osmanli's misery.
He could endure disgrace, nay death, but to face
Josephine seemed worse than death itself. But
there was no escape. Evasion was impossible,
and in a few moments he approached the house,
where he had once been the object of such atten-
tion. Alas! what sad changes had- since dim-
med his heart.
CHAPTEK SIX.
A BKIGUTER DAY FOK OSMANLI.
" Napoleon' Bonaparte rules France !"
Such was the cry of the delighted Parisians, and
it was re-echoed by the hunters on the Pyrenees,
the fishermen on the Norman coasts, and the
idne-dressers in the interior provinces. Fast
sped the news, over mountain and vale, plain
and forest, with the rapid flight of Clan Alpine's
fiery cross, awakening high hopes in the breasts
of all who wished well for the nation. True, tlie
adventurous soldier shared the power with two
fellow-consuls, but every one knew tlmt he could
make them subservient to his will, and carry out
his own plans. What those plans were, no one
knew, but everyone appeared confident that they
would regenerate public affairs, and restore
tranquillity.
As Osmanli approached the residence of the
commander in-chief, he saw many evidences of
the change in the social rank of its owner. A
military guard was posted at the gate — couriers,
mounted on fleet steeds, came and went with
dispatches — colonels of regiments quartered in
the city called to receive orders or to receive re-
ports— while wily office holders, wiih obsequious
smiles, were anxious to pay homage to the new
chief of the state.
An orderly was in attendance at the door,
evidently expecting the two grenadiers, who
were at once escorted into the drawing room.
It was filled with officers and civilians, excepting
an open space near the door, where stood Gen-
eral Bonaparte, the observed of all observers.
No sooner did his quick eye discern the grena-
diers' uniforms, though, than he advanced to
meet them, and, taking each by the hand, led
Osmanli and Thome into the midst of the as-
semblage.
" Gemlemen," and never had his voice been
so commanding in its tone, " these two grena-
diers yesterday saved my life, and gratitude is
an immediate du'y. Sergeant major Thome, I
promote you to a captaincy, with an annual
pension of two thousand francs. As for your
comrade," and Bonaparte smiled as he spoke,
"he is a captain already, although now in the
ranks on account of some intrigue — the ladies
are always spoiling my best, troops. But no
matter — no matter, Major Osmanli, or rather
Major Wilmot, I shall detail you to a squadron
of horse, which I propose organizing, as a con-
sular guard. And now, major, open yonder
door, and enter, you will there find friends."
Bewildered and astonished, Osmanli mechan-
ically turned the handle of the door pointed out,
and entered a small room. There stood his
mother, who bad been anxiously awaiting his
arrival, and who now, with a cry of joy folded
him to her heart. When the first transports of
delight had been indulged in, she gladdened his
heart by informing him how the dying Margry
had disclosed the truth, and established his inno-
cence. What joyous news ! The dark clouds
which had lowered over the horizon of his hopes
disappeared before the glad tidings^the world
seemed brighter than it ever had before — nor
could he look upon the past except as a fearful
dream.
There was a knock at the door, and Josephine
entered, leading Judith Fezenzac by the hand.
"Do not blush," said Madame Bonaparte,
"for we know all your temptations and afflic-
tions— your sufferings of body and of mind.
You have erred — who has not 1 But all that I
can remember of the past is, that you have twice
saved the life of my noble husband — besides
having preserved my nightingale here from a
fate far worse than death. Besides, your mother
is an old fiicnd; so do not look so penitent."
Osmanli could not speak, but bowed his grati-
tude. Never had Judith appeared so lovely to
him before, for sorrow had but passed over her
features like a dove, tlie surface looking softer
from the touch of its wing. Forgiveness beamed
from her sparkling eyes, a kind smile kindled
around the corners of her expressive mouth, and
as she sat down beside his mother, the young
man knew not which to admire most — or which
he loved the best.
Josephine was in high spirits, but the others,
although perhaps happier, did not say much —
their hearts were too full.
" By the way, major," said Josephine, " yom"
post ia the consular guard will make you a fre-
quent inmate of the palace when we are once in-
stalled lliere, and I warn you in advance that
you are not to make love to my maids of honor !"
" Ah, Madame Bonaparte," replied Osmanli,
" you need not fear me. Experience has taught
me how dangerous it is to be too susceptible."
" Very well ! Especially the side-glance at
Mademoiselle Judith. Well, as she is already
named as one of my attendants, she. should take
such a rejection of her charms as an insult."
" Madame, I — I — "
" Don't stammer, major. But you must all
know that I have to make preparations for our
removal to the palace, so I shall avail myself of
my official privilege, and send you away. Don't
forget, my dear Madame Wilmot, to come and
see me when I am installed in my new quarters."
" Yes, your majesty," replied Madame Wil-
mot, with a low courtesy. " You remember — "
"The fortune-teller!" exclaimed Josephine.
' That I do, and I feel assured that the predic-
tion will be fulfilled. Besides, Napoleon told
me last night of a wonderful prediction made
about him when he was in Egypt, by an Oriental
magician. Adieu. Let me see you often."
Osmanli sighed, but the kind, earnest tone in
which Judith said farewell, convinced his throb-
bing heart that they would soon meet again, and
that lie had not forfeited her esteem.
They were soon at Madame Wilmot's house,
and the fond mother took her son to gaze upon
the portrait of his faiher. To her it was a joyous
though melancholy moment, and early love, re-
lieved from the trouble of years, was as bright
and as fresh as a house at Pompeii, just disen-
tombed from the ashes in which it had been
buried for years.
Happy were they in each other's society, that
long separated mother and son. But Osmanli's
thoughts would occasionally wander to General
Bonaparte's, and he would wonder if there would
ever be a time when he could woo and win Ju-
dith's gentle heart. The duties of his new office,
however, soon engrossed his entire time, and
most of his thoughts. The consular guard, in
which he held a majority, was culled from the
best troops of the army, and every man selected
was a veteran, who had served in those cam-
paigns which elevated their leader to renown.
Bonaparte was much interested in the new corps,
and not a day passed that be did not visit the
baiTacks, to chat with the war-bronzed soldiers
who filled its ranks. One had been with him at
Toulon, another at Areola— some had fought
under bis orders in Egypt, and many bore hon-
orable scars of his Italian campaign. Need it be
said that he was welcomed with shouts of glad-
ness, nor was any one more delighted to see him
than Osmanli, for he always spoke of Judiih,
and often, by a delicate jest, brought the warm
blood to the major's cheek.
Soon there was a grand military parade — a
double ceremonial of rejoicing, over seventy-two
Turkish standards captured at Aboukir, and of
honor to the memory of George Washirgton.
The order, signed by Bonaparte, and dated on
the ninth of February, ISOO, closed in these
words : " Washington is dead — that great man,
who fought against tyranny, and com olidatcd the
liberty of his country. His memory will ever be
dear to the French people, and lo all freemen in
both worlds : but more especially to the soldiers
of France, who, like him and his American
troops, fight in defence of liberty and equality."
This ceremony was the first appearance of
Bonaparte in public since he had assumed the
consular power, and at an early hour every place
that commanded a view of the expected proces-
sion was occupied. Eveiy window and balcony
of every house teemed with the fairer sex, the
very housetops were instinct with life, and the
streets on either side presented a dense mass of
human beings, wiih difficulty kept back wiihin
the bounds of their confined space by gi urabling
dragoons. Soon came the procession, banners
waving, plumes dancing, bayonets glistening in
the sun, and martial music pealing forth inspir-
ing strains. The captured standards, each borne
by a veteran, formed an attractive feature of the
procession, but ihey were eclipsed by what fol-
lowed them. In the midst of a splendidly uni-
formed suite, but himself dressed with republican
simplicity, rode the First Consul, the cynosure
upon which all eyes rested. Loud were the
shouts which greeted him, but he simply ac-
knowledged the loyal demonstrations by an oc-
casional dignified nod. The Parisians, at last,
had found a master.
Behind General Bonaparte, in a carriage
drawn by four horses, rode Josephine, whoi-e
joyous countenance expressed the pleasure she
experienced at seeing the idol of her heart thus
devotedly cheered. She was accompanied by
Judiih, who could but gaze at a dashing young
officer, who commanded the consular escort, and
rode by their carriage window. Once, too, when
his high-mettled charger reared and plunged
furiously, taking fright at a band of music, her
cheek blanched, and tears dropped from her
long eyelids. It was Osmanli, and then, for the
first time, Judith felt that she really loved him.
In the " Temple of Mars" the scene was in-
teresting and impressive. The captured stan-
dards were arranged around a fine bust of the
American liberator, while on either side stood
two veterans, each in his hundredth year. An
oration was pronounced by M. de Fontanes, a
funeral ode was chanted by a large choir, and,
throughout the ceremony, Bonaparte received
regal honors.
Returning in command of the escort, Osmanli
was richly rewarded by a smile from Judith, as
Madame Bonaparte invited him to dine that
evening at the consul's tabic. He immediately
led his squadron out of the more crowded streets,
that he might the more speedily arrive at the
barracks, and then, having dismissed his com-
mand, returned. But on the quay he found his
progress barred by a large assemblage, appar-
ently intoxicated with rage, shouting :
" Hang him ! String him up to a lamp-post !"
" What is the disturbance ?" inquired Osmanli
of a burly looking man, who, with a coil of rope,
was hastening to the scene of tumult.
"Matter, monsieur officer! Matter enough.
We have found a royalist, a rich one, too, dis-
tributing proclamations against Bonaparte. Ah!
the rascal. We have him, though, and if his
name is De Vergennes, we will soon string him
up."
"De Vergennes!" exclaimed Osmanli, with
astonishment. Then, recollecting himself, he
added : " The very man I am commissioned to
arrest. Where is he V
" Safe enough, monsieur officer. But he will
soon have little breath to answer your inquiries.
We have found him corrupting the people, and
we must hang him. After that, pest — you can
have hira."
" But General Bonaparte ! His orders !"
"Bother me if I know!" And the zealous
amateur hangman evidently felt perplexed.
" Look here, citizen," said Osmanli, with as
much coolness as he could assume. "Here I
am, in command of a squadron of General Bona-
parte's new guard — I must have that de Ver-
gennes, or I can never return to my superior
officer. And I know, that you and those other
citizens will feel sure of justice from the con-
queror at Montenotte and the Pyramids !"
" All correct — wait here a moment, and you
will have your man." And he rushed into the
mob, whei'C his voice was soon heard, demand-
ing silence. Then there was an outcry. Silence
again. And then, amid shouts of "Long live
Bonaparte," the mass heaved open, and the un-
fortunate de Vergennes appeared, his clothing
rent in tatters, his face covered with blood, and
his hands pinioned behind him.
[concluded next week.]
"Wlien you are going to a party of mirth, think
of the hazard you run of misbehaving. While
you are engaged, do not wholly forget yourself.
And after all is over, rcfiect how you have be-
haved. If well, be thankful: it ismore than you
could have pi-omised. If otherwise, be more
careful for the future.
372
GLEASON'S nCTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
DR. A. G. KRAGG.
Addison G. BrnpR was born in Springfield, Vermont,
January 29, 1811. Hu was the sixtii child hy liis iather'H
second man-lagc, and by whosu (icatli lio was early thrown
upon his own resourt-es. At the age of 17 he went to Bos-
ton, and engaged an an apprentice to arcHpeetabledrnggist,
whose business heing birgely of a retail and prescripti\'o
character, allbrded young Bragg the best of discipline and
experience. With that (piickness of comprehension which
would liave done creilit lo mature years, he rapidly acquired
a knowledge of the "thousand and one" things which
usually escape the appreciation of the greater part of young
men, and which only a few successfully convert into a snb-
etantial basis for fuiure structures and operations. He dili-
gently pored over the select medical library of his employer,
investigating and copying the rcci|>cs and prescriptions of
those jjhysicians whose reputation stood pre-eminent in
their ])rofession, wisely reckoning that the skill and science
of physicians in the "Athens of America" might be useful
elsewhere. Nor did he omit to "commence his charities at
home," by practising among his young associates, whote
physician he soon became, and whoso ailings he often mended
by drawing upon the treasures of his recii)es. In short,
youth did not find him a " visionary child of dreams," wirh
incongruous plans, trying to temper the rigid realities of life
with sentimental speech, void of reasoning and unsupported
by action. He was early characterized by that industry and
sagacity which signally marked his after course, and which
is the true secret of his success. In December, 1832, ho
married, and the same tics that linked him to the companion
of his life, bound as with a withe all his purposes in one
grand object— that of removing to the widest possible thea-
tre of action — the forest, and of rising in wealth and influ-
ence. And by the way, youthful reader, did you ever think
how the bright bands that arc being woven around you and
some idol of your bosom, would, if sealed, bind also your
scattered mental radiance and all the glowing beams of light
that fall upon your vision, into one single, burning pharos,
towards which with a single eye through the uncertain fu-
ture you steer your bark^ In 1834, he travelled through
most of the northern and western atates, till he penetrated
the wild region of an Indian territory, that afterwards be-
came the property of the United Slates, and which is now
the State of Iowa. Here, upon the banks of Iowa Eivcr,
and about ten miles from its mouth, he selected a place for
his future residence. In 1837 he emigrated with his young family
to this new home. At this time emigration had hardly crossed
the Mississippi to form settlements that now cluster like isles of
the ocean on those illimitable prairie lands, but the Sac and Fox
Indians, the deer and the butfalo roamed theie, and were hardly
as yet scared by the riiie of the white man, or cheated of their do-
minion by his more deadly intrigues. He soon became on terms
of intimacy with the Indians, with whom it was mainly Ids busi-
ness to trade. Here, as in most new and fertile countries, where
vegetation is luxuriant and the climate fluctuating, disease in the
form of ague and bilious fevers was a suie inheritance of the early
settler, wlio was induced to bear his hardships by the smiling
fields of grain and corn that burthened the earth around him. It
was no uncommon thing to see whole families prostrated by the
ruthless " kaldas fever," as tlie Germans call ague and fever, with
no one left to miuister to the wants of the rest. Here was a new
held open for the subject of our narrative, in which his knowledge
of medicines was brought into requisition. The pharmaceutical
preparations of the old doctors and their books too often failed to
cure, or if perchance the disease was broken by the use of calo-
mel, ipecac and quinine, the constitution of the patient was also
broken, and from the weakness produced by bleeding and blister-
ing months often elapsed
before any ordinary de-
gree of health could be
regained. After much
investigation with reme-
dies, products, and vege-
tables used by the Indi- -.^^
ans, who were scarcely
ever confined to their
wigwams by sicknes*,
he produced as the re-
sult of his experimentd
and study, his now
widely known " Indian
Queen Vegetable Anti-
Bilious and TonicPills,"
which beyond any other
medicine has proved a
specific for agues and
all types of fevers which
abound in the West. In
183S the death of hia
wife left two small chil-
dren dependent on him
for guidance, which gave
a new cast to his plans
of life. Bereft of her
who had shared with
him the diseases and
privations of a life on
the fioncier, the impulse
became uppermost with
him to leave the scenes
of so many struggles,
and now of so many un-
happy associations. He
removed to Bellville,
Illinois, where, two years
afterwards, he again
married. The demand
for his Indian vegetable
medicines still increas-
ing beyond his most
sanguine expectations,
he found it necessary to
establish himself in some
more central position ;
accordingly he removed
to St. Louis, where in
1848 he associated him-
self with a gentleman of
sterling attainments and
character. They opened
a large drug and medi-
cine stove on the corner
of Third and Market
Htreets, now the western
depot of ihe Mexican
Mustang Liniment, than
^iS^^i^..
PORTRAIT OF DR. ADDISON G BRAGG.
which no other point connected with mercantile business is more
familiarly known throughout the length and breadth of the Mis-
sissippi Valley. In the spring of 1849 they obtained the invalu-
able recipe for the " Mexican Mustang Liniment," the properties
of which are most remarkable in their chemical and physiological
action upon organic tissues, not only imparting to them a healthy
action, but absolutely accelerating their growth, the same as the
ammonia of manure accelerates the growth of vegetable tissues.
The principal ingredient in this liniment is a napthaline substance,
sublimated by volcanic flres, and is found in large quantities in
Persia, in the Burman Empire, in Scotland, Bavaria, Switzer-
land, Italy and Mexico. AtKangoon there are upwards of five
hundred openings in the earth emitting this " volcanic oil," as it
is termed. It is used in many parts of the world both as an in-
ternal and as an external remedy for a great vuriety of diseases
(see Malte Brun's Geography and Phillips' Mineralogy). It is
also used for various jjurposes in the arts, and forms among the
Cauciisians and Kussians an important article of commerce.
After several months required to gather the materials for future
operations, they commenced the manufacture of this medicine on
a most widely efficient and liberal scale. So confident were they
of success, and that their knowledge of the article had come to
the acme of perfection, that they cxi)ended over twenty
thousand dollars before ofl'cring the liniment for sale, in
printing, making of bottles, and completing necessary mea-
sures for supplying the markets of the nation. The great
fire, and the ravagea of the choleraof that year in St. Louis,
greatly retarded their progress, making it late in the fall of
1849 before the liniment was fairly thrown upon the market,
since which time its progress has been one continued tri-
umph, till it is familiarly known as "household words,"
thoughout that incomparable and mighty region that lies
between the Alleghany and Hoeky Mountains, and whose
southern bound is the Gulf of Mexico. More recently the
enterprising jjroprietors have been carrying their campaign,
with an army of agents and influences, eastward, through
the older and more populous towns of New York and Now
England, until they have invaded Nova Scotia and the Can-
adHs. To supply the immense consumption consequent
upon opening the eastern market, they have established (in
addition to their western one in Sr. Louis) a large eastern
depot at 304 Broadway, New York, for the sale and manu-
facture of this now widely scattered and staple medicine.
Certain, if favor and success among the most discriminating
and intelligent classes in every region of this country are
any evidence of merit, then it is a trudi that this liniment
possesses the positive medicinal character claimed for it ;
not one whisper of complaint has ever come back from the
vast multitude of its consumers, nor will their demands be
any more than supplied by the constant manufacture of it
iu New York and St. Louis. It may not be wraiss to present
a few statistica, which we have collected with some pains,
relating to the material used, and the persons and capital
employed in the manufacture of the Mustang Liniment.
As we have said before, over twenty thousand dollars were
expended before ofl'eriog it to the market. During the
present year, being only the third of its existence, the quan-
tity of glass ware contracted for is thirty thousand gross, or
nearly four and a half millions of bottles. To produce this
quantity of bottles, nquiies the constant labor of about
forty persons during eight months of the year. The con-
sumption of paper is correspondingly great ; some five thou-
sand reams of which are required for directions, labels, cir-
culars, show cards, free almanacs, &c. There are also near
four hundred barrels or one hundred and twenty thou.sand
gallons of material annually consumed, much of which is
imported at an immense expense from Mexico and other
foreign ctjuntries. The number of hands required in the two
manufactories is about sixty, while not less than forty agents are
kept constantly travelling through the various States and Brhish
Provinces. The enterprising proprietors of the Mustang Lini-
ment may well be proud of their enterprise ; they have dcnionstra-
tfd to the world what magnificent results may be the fruits of
energy and sagacity in the boldly designed schemes of business
life. In looking back over Dr. Bragg's career, from a druggist
apprentice at the age of seventeen, till reaching his present posi-
tion as a professional and business man, we see in him not a little
of practical wisdom and commendable philosophy. Most beauti-
ful and uscfel things, most great discoveries and reforms spring
from simple principles — from a simple but saeacious adaptation
of means and influences. The youth that made the most of sug-
gestions and trifles when an apprentice, was first to discover the
field open to usefulness and success in a new country. An ordi-
nary observer may have gathered much informaiion from the
Indian mode of treating disease, but few, however, would bring
to bear that practical inquiry and study which would profoundly
search out the nature of the climate and the secret medicinal
properties of plants used among the Indinns, and make up a tys-
tem of treatment adapted to the wants of a new country.
THE HARVARD MONUMENT, CHAELESTOWN, MASS.
JOHN HARVARD.
The monument erect-
ed to the memory of
John Harvard, a repre-
sentation of which is
herewith given, is situa-
ted on the top of the
hill in the old grave-
yard, near the State
prison, in Charlestowu,
Mass. It was erected
by the subscriptions of
the graduates of Harvard
Universit}'. It is con-
btructed of granite in a
solid shaft of fifteen feet
elevation, and in the
simplest style of ancient
art. On the eastern face
of the shaft, the name
of John Hakvakd is
inscribed ; also on a
marble tablet the follow-
ing: "On the 26ih of
September, A. D. 1828,
this stone was erected
by the graduates of the
university at Cambiidge,
in honor of its founder,
who died at Charles-
town, on the 26th of
September, 1638." On
the western side of the
shaft is an inscription in
Latin, of the following
purport: " That one
who merits so much
from our literary men,
should no longer be
without a monument,
however humble. The
graduates of the Univer-
sity of Cambridge, New
England, have erecttd
this stone, nearly two
hundred years after his
death, in pious and per-
petual remembrance of
John Harvard." At the
erection of this monu-
ment, the Hon. Edward
Everett, who is consid-
ered one of the most ac-
complished scholars ed-
ucated at Harvard Col-
lege, delivered an ap-
propriate and eloquent
address.
I
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROO^l^
.ON.
373
VIEW OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.
CHICAGO.
Unlike the maiority of our lake cities, there is
but little in the siiuaiion of Cliifajro which would
seem to recommend it to the founders of a ciiy.
It lies upon the edge of a broad and extensive
prairie. Scarcely a stray kuoil or scatrered ris-
ing would seem to break the green and level sur-
face of the grassy plain on which it is couched.
All around it is flat and even. Beyond it and
only in the extremity of the distance does the
level ground puss info the gentle and swelling
risings which argue the commencement of a more
varied and hilly country. And yet art has done
much to make amends for the natural flatness
and uniformity of the situation in which Chicago
is placed. Unlike most of its brethren of the
lakes, it would seem to have been laid out with
more than an ordinary attention to appearance.
Along the shore which fronts upon Lake Michi-
gan runs a fine and hroad walk planted with
young trees. Here it is lined with graceful
dwellings, and there a square lies back from it
with its broad flat patch of verdure shaded with
foliage : and although not yet completed and
laid out as it will doubtless be at some future
day, the vfalk promises to make Cliicago one of
the fairest of tlie numerous cities which are ev-
erywhere scattered upon the shores of the lakes.
A stream which runs into the lake at one end of
the city has been widened into a broad and nav-
igable canal which contains the shipping, which
already turns into Chif-ago a great portion, if
not nearly the whole, of the commerce of th«
lake. This, however, is scanty, as railroads
have been gradually linking this city with every
part of the Union, and making it one of the
great centres of the Western traffic. This, in-
dited, ha* grown so rapidly, and increased the
prosperity of Chicago so singularly, that thoi^e
who have not seen it within "the last five or six
years, would scarcely recognize it. Its growth
in weabh and prosperity has been gigantic.
Numbering now fifty or sixty thousand inhabit-
ants, filled with fine houses and large hotels,
and daily increasing in the business and com-
merce which makes it wealthy, it. is perliaps the
one of the lake cities wliich more rapidly than
any other has followed on the march of improve-
ment. New streets have been laid out; large
]>ablic buildings are in progress of erection ;
stores are increasing in size and number; fresli
hotels are being projected, and everything argue."!
an even more prodigious growth in the next few
years, than that which has as yet marked it out
e^soneof the most prosperous and growing cities
■ which dot the lari:e exp:inse of the growing
V West. The United States own a strip of ele-
K vated ground between the town and the lake, on
■> which are situated Fort Dearborn and a light-
K house. The fort consists of a square stockade,
B enclosing barracks, quarters for the officers, a
B magazine and provision store, and defended hv
H_ bastions at its north and southeast angles. This
^^n frontier having ceased to be exposed, the garri-
^^Hf son has been withdrawn. The picture above is
MADAME ANNA THILLON. IN TEiE OPERA OP CARLO THE MINSTREL.
MADA3IE ANNA THILLON.
We have twice already in these pages given a
representation uf this popular actress, but her
late appearance in ihe play or opera of " Carlo,
tiie Minstrel," in which she personates tiie char-
acter of Carlo, has added so largely to her previ-
ous fame in this city, that we have concluded to
give a sketch of her in this part. To those thou-
sands who ha\'e seen her in this character, as
sustained by that exceedingly clever actor and
vocalist, Mr. Hudson, we have only to call tlieir
attention to the part of tlie play where elie de-
mands "halfs'^of her protege. The exquisite
tionchalancJi with which she makes tliis claim to
<?ithor his ducats or his commission is admirable,
and never failed to "bring dovra the house."
Madame Tbillon has but lately closed one of the
most successful engagements of the season at the
Howard Athenaeum, only too brief in duration,
but she was compelled by pre\'ious engagements
£0 bid us farewell- Under Mr. Willard's judi-
cious management, during her engagements —
though the house was often thronged to sulfoca-
non — no disturbance or annoyance of any kind
occurred. Indeed, we look upon the Howard
as quite & model tlieatre in its management, and
as we have before taken occasioii to remark, it
possesses j^eculiar advantages of location and
arch i tec tuj-e, which will ever render it a favorite
with the theatre-going public of Boston, Mad-
,-ime Tiiillon is a most original and peculiar ac-
tress. We know of no one with whom we eati
•compare her. Combining a sweet and highly
cultivated voice with a most thorough knowledge
of stage effect, and a face and form of remarkable
beauty, she can produce more furore in an audi-
ence than a whole troup of artists can ordinarily
do. She is artistic, graceful, and yet plays with
an abandon of spirit and ease of expression that
charms because it is so very natural and unaf-
fected. Her voice in ordinary dialogue is ex-
ceedingly bewitching and melodious, and carries
the hearts of the audience always with her. In
the application of p(tiiU and re/iaiiee, she is ex-
qnisitclv perfect, and enters soul and body into
the scene, as in the part our artist has here rep-
resented. Her roi^tume as Carlo is very grace-
ful, and after the model of a Spanish page, with
velvet jacket and cloak, loose linen underdress,
large and roomy lower garments with high cav-
alier hoots. It becomes her petite figure charm-
ingly, and prepossesses the admirer at the outset
in favor of the part, and she who assumes it so
admirably. We have before taken occasion to
refer to the domestic relation of this lady as of a
character to challenge admiration and respect.
When this is the case, as it regards a performer
upon the stage, it should not be lost sight of;
for it is very delightful to recollect, when we are
so charmed by the phase of character and ac-
romplishments that are publicly exhibited, that
the individual is worthy of all this enthusiastic
homage and admiration so lavishly bestowed.
We say it is a pleasure to recollect this, and it is
our duty to record it, since busy tongues are too
fipt to trifle with the names of public artists,
374
(iJJ':A.^ON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM (COMPANION.
[Written for OJt'HSon'H Pictorial,]
FREEDOM'S AVATAR.
BY J. H. iUOUfiTINE DCGASKB,
Tiy Ijro,
Out of deep ^]cDp, whcro vlsiona moved before me,
nift'« my 'wlUlored soul ;
Starlesu a-wd (lurk tlic heuvoiiB nre frowning o'or mc,
And iindcmeuth mo roll
The billowB of an unknown ffii, whose curge
Is nfl an eiidlusH dlrgo.
1,0 ! In my dreams T saw the iiridpn mnn —
Th' unbound P rouie the ufi. grand with conttuered pain,
Tramplinp his shattpied chain 1
Thou with a mighty jny, that ovHrnin
The utterance of my heart. I elnppcd
And Hang aloud with prophet ire,
Paug with exnbenmt voice:
" 0, 1'arth I rcjolci', rcjoli^ol"
I «aw young Freedom horn — ii Chrit'om child —
And Fupcfl came from far,
Led by the radiant star
That o'er his muiiger gloriounly Hmiled.
And I sttiod with shcpherdfl, who watched by night.
Till mine eyes were bathed with a wondrouB light ;
Till £ hoard the song of an angel throng,
With manifold love and with peace oY-rfrauglit,
Swaying my listening thought.
But Herod, the murderer, beard —
Herod, the tyrant of nations ;
There swept by hi.i prihice a mj ftiinl Word.
And the hearts of the people wiih wonderment stuTcd,
In the dust of their dc^olatiODB.
A star in the midnight sky —
A gleam of the Orient morn —
Itehold, that Word swept fiasbing by.
The name of the Child new-boru t
Over the broad world (lashing high.
The nanie of the Child new-born 1
The sword, 0, nations I yp beheld, ye saw
Your trembling tyrants draw!
The hand, 0, nations ! ye beheld, that slew
The innocent and truel
But Freedom Jives!
The Ahnigbty hath the Child outled—
Egypt her shelter gives I
With strength and \iisdom shall its youth bo fed,
Till in man's stature, and mid fellow-men,
Freedom— the Saviour — shall apiiear again.
The Lord God mightily reigneth \
And in the breath of his nostrils, thrones dissolve.
Like glittering vapor— and no trace reniaineth.
Light out of diirkneps shall hi.'* word evolve ;
Order from ehaos— and from the womb of migiit
The eternal soul of right I
cental culture, in tliu life-liiirvcBt of
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE STORY OF A GEJ^IUS.
DRAWN FROM LIFE.
BY KEV. H. HASTINGS W£LD.
Tom Smith " could do anything." All his
friends and companions believed in his universal
capacity, and he himself was satisfied of it. A
dashing cleverness in whatever he attempted,
made even his failures seem better evidence of
genius than the success of other men. " He
might if he would," was the verdict of his ad-
mirers. *' I could do it, if I thought it worth my
while," was Tom's own consolation under re-
verses and disappointments.
At school he was chiefly remarkable for inat-
tention to his studies, while an occasional bril-
liant triumph, when all around expected com-
plete disgrace, forced the admiration of teachers
and pupils at his talents, and their regret at his
neglect and abuse of them. He was content
with such partial successes, and was, moreover,
proud of his contempt for his own abilities,
which others so much admired and envied. He
delighted to show the plodders, as he called
them, that the snail docs not always beat, in the
race with the liare, as the fable teaches, though
the snail does labor on continually, and the hare
stops every now and then for a frolic at the
brook-side. Such was the character which lie
carried from the school to the university. And
when he was thence expelled for the eccentrici-
ties of his genius, which were developed in a
shower of stones against a professor's windows,
he comforted himself with the distich : —
" For more true joy Marcellua, exiled, feels,
Than Ciesar, with a senate at his heels."
That,- by the way, is a couplet which has been
applied, with admirable originality, during every
college rebellion, and the rustication or expul-
sion consequent, which have occurred since col-
lege misconduct was first in fashion. Little
consolation docs it present, however, to the pa-
rents whose hopes are defeated, and whose ex-
pectations are disappointed by the misconduct
of the son. Small promise of after usefulness
do such bnginningfi aJTord,— ^Ijttle warrant of
reward for pi
the boy.
Now let us advu'ncc over the somewhat stale
description of a reckless youth to his muturer
manhood. Deepile of tlie prophecies of the
comforters of his parents tliat the "nc'er-do-
wcel " Tom Smith, would " never come to any-
thing," behold him admitted to the bar, with
unusual honors. The shame of being taunted
with his inclllciency had .^purred him to such
unwonted exertion and application, as developed
bis full strength. Tor once, Tom had done his
best, and so triumphantly did he make his
entree upon his professional career, that it began
to be suspected that he was unjustly misrepre-
sented by those who asserted that he was idle
and negligent at college. Business flowed in
upon him apace; and the novelty of hiti position,
its excitement, in which he delighted, and the
pleasure of having asserted his ability by a vic-
tory over circumstances, set him up completely
in his own heart.
But his application did not long continue.
The position which he had gained, as it were, at
a jump, he had not industry suHicicnt to retain
by hard labor; and hard labor only can main-
tain him who by accident, or a specious appear-
ance of fitness, reaches a place for which he is
really incompetent. Tom had genius but not
karmng. He sported with the feelings of his
clients, as he had long been in the habit of doing
with his own ; and though he often succeeded in
retrieving the affairs entrusted to him, by des-
perate plunges, at the close of long and weary
doubts, his clients were not so grateful for being
saved "by the skin of their teeth," as the pro-
verb expresses it, as Tom thought they should
have been. They did not relish being thrown
overboard, to display his skill in rescuing them
from drowning ; and if extrication from foarfnl
dilemmas did minister to Tom's triumphs, they
could not forget that his carelessness had placed
them in their difficulties. They did not like
that their causes and their property should be
put in peril by his negligence, in order that the
liair-breadth victory should exalt his reputation ;
and woidd far rather that a little of the plodding
industry which he despised should secure them
from the first, than that they should come in vic-
tors at the last, by a coup de main. It resulted,
at last, that Thomas Smith, Esq., was avoided
a? counsel by careful men, but was summoned
in desperate cases, which none other cared to
undertake. Under such a stimulus he was al-
most uniformly successful; and thus, without
the true requisites of a sound jurist, he had a
conqueror's reputation, and a fitful, though, on
the whole, a lucrative practice. There is a
western boast which illustrates the life of such
men. He could fall lower, and still rise, or, as
the phrase is, " dive deeper and come up drier"
than almost any other. It was always dark
night or bright sunshine with him — a fearful
storm, or a dead calm.
At length it occurred that some business in
which he was engaged required the intervention
of the Legislature. His presence at the capital
was required to expedite it. One proposition in
the consultations with bis clients led to another,
until it was suggested that it were better to elect
him as a representative, than to depute him as a
lobby member. The matter was talked over,
and as tliose of the public who knew the secret
saw no ])articular fitness in the election of a law-
yer with half-a dozen clients in a particular case,
as his actual constituency, there were strong
symptoms of opposition. But this only stimu-
lated him. It spurred his energy, and fixed bis
determination to be elected, for though he cared
little for the honor, and knew the profit was
nothing, to be opposed was to ensure his success.
He threw himself into the work with his whole
energy, and after vigorous canvassing, caucus-
ing and exertion, he was returned by a majority
of ten votes; a much more acceptable triumph
to him than if he had been elected by a majority
of ten hundred. To have been unanimously
elected would have possessed no charms for
him ; and had the reception of bis nomination
indicated an appearance of unanimity among the
electors in his favor, we do believe he would
have declined the intended honor.
In the Legislature he was true to his old char-
acter. He was placed at the head of an impor-
tant committee, in compliment to bis reputation,
but his committee work was really nothing. In
drawing up reports and investiguliTig the sub-
jects referred, he had absolutely no share. But
his " genius " stood liim in good stead, for with
his powerful natural abilities, he could astoni.sli
those who drew up the reports, by making a bet-
ter defence than tlicy; and his skillful ad rap-
tandiim hits and witty repartees, liis unbounded
assurance and wonderful readiness completed
the work which others had begun, and made
liim who was really the cipher in the business
seem the character, by whom only the others
liad significance. Tom was delighted with legis-
lation. It was, as he managed it, a glorious,
continual contest against odds, which made his
fame ring again, and he was really almost de-
ceived into the belief that he was a statesman.
But the Hon. Mr. Smith's course was not all
sunshine. His old carelessness threw him into
a troublesome difficulty. He was absent from
his post when a decisive vote was taken upon
the very question which he had been elected to
cai-ry — and ho was horrified one morning to find
that his opponents had taken advantage of his
absence to defeat his clients. Great and terrible
was the wrath of his friends, and even Tom
Smith — lucky Tom Smith — appeared at last in
a laiie which seemed to have no lum. He saw
no mode in which he could retrieve himself, and
no excuses' presented themselves with which he
could face his friends. It was such a palpable
and unpardonable fnult, so grossly inexcusable,
that even our hero was ready to despair. But
his good fortune did not yet desert him. One of
the *' plodders" — and genius is often more in-
debted to the plodders than the world suspects —
saved him from destruction. A careful, old,
dull-headed tactitian, who was in the same inter-
est with Smith, voted against him, in order to
secure a right to move a "reconsideration."
This was opening enough for Smith. It was a
breach in the enemy's defences, into which he
threw himself, and, with bis old success, turned
the tables, and came off with flying colors, and
more admiration than ever. But he had given,
also, an endorsement of his old character, that
he was " not fit to be trusted."
The session wore away, but the Hon. Mr.
Smith had lost his interest in the public business.
It had no more charms for him. The great ex-
citement was over, and he turned with distaste
from the formal phraseology of acts to repeal
acts, acts to modify acts, acts to continue acts,
and all the forasmuches, whereases, preambles,
chapters and sections of routine law-making.
He sought excitement somewhere else — and
found it. Where ■?
Thereby hangs a tale — or rather the moral of
our tale. The key to the Hon Mr. Smith's
strange negligence was the same that will too
often explain the "aberrations of genius." He
was fond of deep potations and of luxurious
food. He liked the wit and excitement of the
dinner table, and the supper. He was the soul
of convivial parties, and was prone to the et cet-
eras which fill up the days of those whose nights
are given to revelry, the excitement of the bil-
liard room and the bowling alley, the early
mingling of strong drink. In these scenes he
could shine without eflort. Keady applause and
hearty appreciation followed all the sallies of so
distinguished a convive. To such haunts and to
such companions he was ready to fly, not only
from the fatigue of his profession, but to escape
that fatigue before he incurred it.
The Hon. Mr. Smith would have quietly re-
tired from public life entirely, at the close of his
first term, but there were two reasons against it.
One was, that he liked the license of the capital
— the other, that he found " public sentiment"
so unanimous against his re election, that to de-
cline to contend would be a palpable defeat. In
neglecting the business of the House, he had
sufi'ered the district which he represented to lose
some important advantages, and the people
were not at all disposed to forgive him. Again
he nerved bim<^clf for the contest. Again he
succeeded. Defeat would have been better for
him.
We must spare the reader the narrative of all
the downward steps by which the Hon. Thomas
Smith became a sot. The first steps in this
path were taken many years before. In his
youth and college days, his dangerous passion
for praise, and fondness for unwise excitement,
had betrayed him into the love of drink, and if
conscience or some considerate friend warned
him to beware, the deceptive promise was ready
— " 0, I cannot sink ! I recover myself too
easily." The recklessness of danger which
grows out of over-confidence — the estimate of
bis own powers which made liim despise the
fear of being taken at a disadvantage, ruined
Tom Smith, as it has ruined many more. The
pride which exalts in .self debasement (not abase-
ment), in order that it may be shown from how
low a depth to rise is po?^siblc, is much more
common than is usually imagined. There is
scarce an outcast in the world who does not im-
agine that he could rc-esiublish himself, if only
he thought it worth his while, and would set
about it !
Down 1 Pown I The elasticity of the strong-
est must give way at last, and the mind sympa-
thizes with the besotted, as well as with the vig-
orous body. "We have not mentioned Smith's
wife, but it must not therefore Jjc inferred that
he had none. Women are admirers of the bril-
liant and the bold ; and each of Tom's hair-
breadth successes would have procured him a
wife, if it were the custom of the country thus to
multiply. That his disgrace and excesses
brought unbappiness upon her and misfortune
upon his children, is the old story of every ine-
briate's home.
At last he was given over. Even his wife —
and wives hope to the last — had ceased to expect
that he could recover, or that, from the deep dis-
grace into which he had plunged, there was any
expectation of his emerging. He still had pro-
fessional business. Pickpockets with more
aliases than changes of garments ; inebriates, to
whose names "drunk and disorderly " was as
invariable an affix as esquire is to that of a gen-
tleman— all the host of the particular acquaint-
ance of the police were his clients. " Even in
his ashes lived his wonted fire," and the police
transactions were never so interesting as when
the Hon. Thomas Smith " appeared for the de-
fendant." He often astonished those who had,
and those who had not known him in better
days, by managing petty cases with a skill wor-
thy of a better arena. This was triumph
enough for him ! Tell him he could do better if
he would, and he would acknowledge the com-
pliment with such a full appreciation of its
truthfulness, as indicated that he considered it
unnecessary labor to make the trial.
It so chanced one day, that he heard himself
discussed, when the interlocutors were not aware
that he was listening. And he heard them,
moreover, reach the calm and sad conclusion
that he was sunken past recall or recovery.
They agreed that he had so wasted his energy
and impaired his strength, mental and physical,
that further expectation for him there was none,
except that he would die like a drunken swan —
if such a bird were possible — in singing in bac-
chine eloquence his own defence against being
committed as a vagrant.
"Perhaps so," said Smith. A new resolve
was awakened in him. People doubted that he
could overcome temptation. He would see !
From that moment he put the resolve in prac-
tice. It was the most severe struggle he had
ever undertaken, but his rc-awakened pride, sec-
onded by a strong will, was triumphant. He
raised himself from the kennel, as he had prom-
ised himself he would, and ended life where he
should have commenced it, a sober man.
But where, meanwhile, were the " plodders,"
the snails, as he used to style them, when he
likened himself to the hare "? All in positions of
competence and ease, which he could never hope
to reach. They had gained in the long race,
though often and often he had frolicked past them
in derision. Man cannot always retain his
youth, and premature old age settles hard upon
hira, even though he be a genius, who lives too
fast. Let the young and over-confident, the apt
and able, especially, beware how they waste
their lives and trifle with their powers. It is
agreeable to astonish one's friends, and to disap-
point one^s foes ; bat it is not safe to do it at
your own expense. Feeble old Justice Shallows
may chuckle over the irregularities of their
youth, but it is better, while the page is fair, to
make no blurs upon it. It is very much to a
man's credit to reform from vice or dissipation,
but it is better — as the good book advii5cs us re-
specting contention — to leave such things oif be-
fore they be meddled with. Hon. Thomas
Smith will tell you so, though he has been so
long, of later years, in good repute, that his
younger friends do not remember when he stood
otherwise. Genius, unguided by abiding princi-
ple, and unaccompanied by industry, is a dan-
gerous gift.
If you happen to fall into company where the
talk runs into party, obscenity, scandal, folly, or
vice of any kind, you had better pass for morose
or unsocial, among people whose good opinion
is not worth having, than shock your own con-
science by joining in conversation which you
must disapprove of.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DEAWIXG ROOM COMPANION.
375
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
VHERE HAVE THEY VAJVISHED?
BT PAEK BESJAMIN.
Where hnve they Tanished— all my youthful fancies ?
^Vllore have they Qovro — my fnnd delights and Jreiuus?
Alas! with love's remembertd smiles and slimces,
With hope's frail fabrics and delusive gleams.
I sit and muse on many a golden glory
That played like sunshine i-ound my early years ;
Back to my mind comes many a tender story
That dimmed my yet unfaded eyes with tears.
I see once more the oft-frequented places,
Where, like a group in some old picture, throng
Familiar forms and unforgotten faces,
Gone to their far, returnless home, how loQg !
And one is fairer than the rest, as morning
More lovely is than noon or sinking day ;
She too has tlown, that loftier sphere adorning,
\Vbere grief is not, and sighs are done away.
As years increase, my heart is filled with sadness,
t\Iore prone am I to wander in the past,
And, though my present is not void of gladness,
Still is my tearful vision backward cast.
Forgive me, objects of my dear afFectiou,
51 Y treasured blessings, that sometimes T turn
From thoughts of you in hours of lone retlection.
To twine some leaves round memory's funtral um.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE WAY TO AVASHKGTON.
No. II.
BT B. PERLEY POORE.
AFLOA.T ON THE SOTIM).
Boston should not be passed through without
a tribute to her citizens. Their love of freedom,
their restless activity, and their veneration for
■whatever is great or beautiful, have gained them
the honor of a frequent comparison with the free
and polislied Athenians — and it is just. Ihe
old republic could boast of few orators superior
to E\-erctt, or Choate, or Phillips, or Hillard —
few historians superior to Sparks, or Prescott,
or Hildretli — few essayists superior to Whipple
— ^few poets superior to Holmes. The " Acropo-
lis " was never more glorious than Bunker's
height, and Paneuil Hall has probably echoed
more genuine popular eloquence than was ever
declaimed on the "Pynx." Call Boston the
" Modem Athens/* if you will, but remember
she is as much superior to the " ancient of days,
august Athena," as aa express train is to a
foundered horse. But do not tliink that I value
Boston because I admire the gifted minds who
inhabit Beacon Hill, and draw their dividends
on State Street. If you want to see a sample of
her sterling men, go into her schools, her print-
ing-offices, lier workshops, or her markets.
Take, if you please, the sacrificial priests in-
stalled in Quincy's noble piles, who sacrifice the
"cattle on a thousand hills" for the domestic
altars, "What a hale, hearty-looking set of men
they are, with pleasant smiles on theii* faces, and
hearts large, almost, as those of the oxen they
slay. Surely the old Atlienians could furnish no
such display, either of men or of meats; and
could they have had such troops as these same
knights of the cleaver make when "out in the
Lancers," Alaric never would have despoiled
their city.
Among the most interesting edifices in Boston
— Gleason's Publishing Hall occupying a prom-
inent place in the class — is the old " Hancock
House," on Beacon Hill. It should, by right,
be State or city property, and would make an
excellent as well as appropriate hall for a His-
torical Society. Who'll start a subscription for
the purchase ? Every one is familiar with the
bold signature of jMr. Hancock, wliicli is so
prominent upon the " Declaration," hut few have
any idea of his personal appearance or dress. It
may not be amiss, then, to say that he was very
tall, thin and dignified in his deportment. At
home, towards the close of his life, he used to
wear a white linen skull cap, with the edges
turned up over a smaller one of red velvet, a
blue damask gown lined with silk, a white stock,
a white satin embroidered waistcoat, black satin
small clothes, white silk hose, and red morocco
slippers. Allien he went out, a full wig and
cocked hat replaced the caps, and a richly em-
broidered coat the dressing-gown — while his
equipage was a carved coach, drawn by six bay
horses, and preceded by outriders, all the ser-
vants wearing livery. What a difference be-
tween the " Boston merchant prince " of 1776,
and the one who has just returned, in 1852, from
a high diplomatic mission ! How the boys
would leave their sports on the common and
rush up to the old mansion, if they could see the
original occupant's counterfeit start out for a
ride in all the ancient state ! And what a ditFer-
ence between his imposing figure, in gorgeous
array, and suclx modern Boston notables as
Holmes or Whipple — small, intellectual looking
men in sombre black.
One glance at the city ere proceeding further
on our "w\iy," and tliat a glorious view, and at
a novel hour — nine at night — from the State
House dome There lies the city, once occupy-
ing three hills, now extended across the water in
two directions, so as to form a treble metropolis,
whilst around about are the three cities of Kox-
bury, Cambridge and Charlestown. There she
lies, gleaming with her myriad lights, some ir-
radiating in starry streatns tracing many roads
and bridges into the dark distance beyond. Up
to the ear comes the rumbling din of huge found-
eries, mingled with the going home bustle of a
hurrying populace, and the faint jarring of cabs,
the rattle of private carriages, and the rumbling
of sturdy omnibii forming a "running accompa-
niment." Then, startling to the listener, comes
the long, shrill yell of the steam-dragon, scream-
ing almost joyously as it booms along with its
blazing breath, nearer and nearer to its home.
And, almost directly below, the rich, trilling
voice of the fountain, the "spirit bride of the
elm," steals sweetly and with a lulling melody
upon the evening air.
Those whose nerves are made of bell wires,
and who look upon travel as a cough mixture —
when taken to be well shaken — may ride upon a
rail and welcome ; but for my part I prefer a
commodious steamer, wliere one can he at his
ease. So when on my " way," I always go by
the Fall River line, even if a stiff breeze comes,
like a lawyer's dun, to announce that Neptune
will make me " settle accounts " off Point Judith.
For the exhibitions on such stormy passages,
hunt up an old volume of fun entitled "John-
son's Scraps," and " when found, turn down a
leaf and make a note on't."
Newport ! How well I remember stopping
there, some fifteen years ago — I was yet in jack-
ets— at the old Bellevue House. Mine host was
a motley quaker — afterwards excommunicated
by his brethren because he hired an old piano
for the benefit of his lady boarders — and he used
to scour the knives, whilst his wife did her part
in keeping house. Now there are monster ho-
tels, armies of servants, legions of cottages, and
some other appendages to " fashionable watering
places." But those who once came to Newport
to- enjoy the invigorating sea breeze, the elastic
atmosphere, and the wholesome fare, are now
never seen. Thei/ never figure at fancy balls —
never wear fancy bathing dresses — never drive
hired horses above their natural speed, tlirough
clouds of dust. And their successors are either
fashionable drones, or that most uneasy class of
pleasure seekers, city business men. Poor fel-
lows, these last, dragged from mahogany desks
by ambitious wives or daughters. A rural so-
journ is fatal to them, for tlieyarc unlike men of
imagination, who seek repose of thought in the
indulgence of ealm reveries, or endeavor to
bury care and anxiety in the contemplation of
nature. Their minds become rusted by ennui,
and their bodies slothful from idleness, so that
they soon long for home, the morning paper, the
office, the law or the profits.
And having arrived at this profound conclu-
sion, I will close my portfolio, and retire to my
state-room. To morrow morning I hope to
breakfast in New York — a century since, the
journey would have occupied a week.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DECEMBER.— A SONNET.
Svggestfd by our recent National Bereavement.
BY J. STARR HOLLOWAT.
Thou final pillar to this fatal year.
Be thou upreared, and do thou stand in peace,
Until thy master, Time, shall bid thee cease
To he ; then gently fall, nor make us fear
That thou wilt crush, in falling, one soul dear
To us — who. by high deeds, has a life-leaFe
On our affections. Spare, 0 spare, the few
Bright master minds that yet are left us here !
No monument to Time, save this alone.
Which only waits thy crowning piece, to view
It all complete, can make us weep and moan
So bitterly for those forever gone.
But go ; we fear to trust thee. Come, New Year,
Perhaps tby pile, less stern ,will free our .souls from fear.
Zeal does well in a private breast; and mod-
eration in a public state.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
WOOD NOTES.
The/ollowipg thus iv^'e wrillrn rluniig a tmir through the
woods on a brigUt day in lAtitiimn.
BY DR. GEORGE W. BDKOAY.
The modest daisj- in its bloom,
Here meekly wore its satiu Irill ;
Like mourners at its virgin tomb.
Wet gniss-blades how upon the hill.
The thistle vith its head upreared,
Like genius with its noble deeds.
Though coarsely clad and rough its beard,
Sends on white wings afar its seeds.
The wood hird's'nest upon the bough.
Is like my saddened htart that grieves —
T was full of music once ; but now
Deserted hangs and filled with leaves.
As hope illumes the pilgrim's eyes,
Along the shadowy vale of night.
Yon streamlet, like an arrow, Hies
Between the hills now crowned with light.
Cloud heaped on cloud goes drifting by,
Like billows on the broad deep bay ;
And then the white wave.i cf the .ssky
Dash o'er the bills and break In spray.
Here, like the patriirch in his dreams,
I see the ladder angels trod ;
This mountain to poor mortals seems
A footstool near the throne of God.
LIFE AND EXISTENCE.
The mere lapse of years is not life. To eat,
and drink, and sleep ; to be exposed to darkness
and the light ; to pace round in tbe mill of habit,
and turn thought into an implement of trade —
this is not life. In all this, but a poor fraction of
the consciousness of humanity is awaked, and
the sanctities still slumber which make it worth
while to be. Knowledge, truth, love, beauty,
goodness, faith, alone can give vitality to the
mechanism of existence. The laugh of mirth
that vibrates through the heart, ihc tears that
freshen the dry wastes within, the music that
brings childhood back, the prayer that calls the
future near, the doubt which makes us meditate,
the death which startles us with mystery, the
hardship which forces us to struggle, the anxiety
that ends in trust, are the true nourishment of
our natural being — James Marlineaa.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE HAPPIEST HOME,
BY OTTEN G. WARREN.
That is the brightest, happiest home,
Where love and peace ar& shrined ;
And whence the heart would never roam,
A warmer spot to find.
•Tis not the mansion, proud and high,
Nor halls of lordly state ;
'Tis not the robes of richest dye.
Nor slaves that round us wait ;
Tis not the steeds that prance in pride,
With harness flecked with foam ;
No — luxury and dominion wide
Have nought to do with home.
But one condition makes a home —
Hearts must be happy there ;
As well in hovel as in dome.
Content can find a lair.
Want and disease may bitter life.
Discordant souls may hate.
Strong interests may engender strife —
These are the common fate.
But, if we ask it prayerfully,
Joy to our roof will come ;
Love, the condition sole must he,
For love will make a home.
A HINT.
" Dear mother," said a delicate little girl, " I
have broken your china vase."
" Well, you are a naughty, careless, trouble-
some little thing, always in mischief; go up
stairs till I send for you."
And this was a Christian mother's answer to
the tearful little culprit, w^ho had struggled with
and conquered temptation to tell a falsehood to
screen the fault. With disappointed, disheart-
ened look, the child obeyed; and at that mo-
ment was crushed in her little heart the sweet
flower of truth, perhaps never again in after
years to be revived lo life. 0, what were a
thousand vases in comparison ! — East Boston
Ledger.
FRENCH NATIONAL CHARACTER.
The histoiy of the French everywhere depicts
a people gallant, gay, ingenious, versatile and
ardent beyond all rivalry and all example; but
it also sets before us a race more destitute than
any other of profound and immutable convic-
tions; .and, therefore, less capable than any
other of a steady progress in the great practical
science of constitutional government— a people
who are at one time the sport of any demagogue
who can veil his selfish ambition under the cant
of " pure ideas," and another time the victims of
any despot who may be strong enough to tram-
ple both t\ie ifiealpgists an^l their vevbal science
under his feet.Tr-jS^elf/o^i.
EGVPTT.^N LEGENDS.
While walking along the banks of the river,
■we shot a small, beautiful bird called sik-sak by
tbe Arabs, concerning which the Egyptian peas-
ants have a curious legend, pretending, that
■when the crocodile, in fine, calm, sunny days,
ascends out of the river to sleep upon some sandy
islet, this bird always keeps near, and, if danger
approadics, takes care to awaken him by his
.sharp note. They add another particular, w'hich,
however fabulous it may be, has prevailed from
tlie age of Herodotus down to the present
day, and seems to be founded on the physical
structure of the bird. The siksak, which is un-
doubtedly the trochilus of Herodotus, is armed
at the point of each shotUder of the wings with a
small shaip horn, like the talons of an eagle, the
use of which the Arabs, with their habitual in-
genuity, explain as follows : The crocodile,
they say, hting at times tormented by a noxious
kind of vermin, which creep into his throat and
suck his blood, lies down on the sand and in-
stinctively opens his mouth. The crocodile, for-
getting the presence of his friend, someiimes
closes his mouth and imprisons him, upon whieli
the siksak, which is purposely armed for the oc-
casion, lifts up its wings, and, pricking the ten-
der sides of his throat with his sharp horns,
quickly procures itself a safe return to upper
air. Whatever may he thought of this legend,
it is very certain that the crocodile is rarely seen
unattended by one or more of these birds, which
seem to approach him fearlessly, and to stand
quite within his reach upon the sand. — Batjard
Tayhr.
« a**^ >
fWritten for Gleason's Pictorial.]
VISIONS OF THE NIGHT,
BT KE.VXETH 8ESCLAIK.
'T was the midnight hour I Softly sleep had stolen
O'er me, as restless tossing on my lonely couch,
I pondered on the past — its joys, its griefe.
Its hap p)" moments and its days of woe —
And called up sweet faces half forgot.
Fairy forms, and dimpled cheeks, and eyes
That dazzled once with a diamond light,
Since then, alas! too oft bedimmed with tears.
And sleeping, my varied thoughts were mingled
With my dreams ; pleasant voices long since hushed,
Tones that could thrill each ciuivering nerve.
Once more I heard in melody greet me.
The joys of other diys again were mine,
Awhile returned childhood's innocence.
And cares and hatreds later-formed were not ;
Dear friends, as erst I had, sincere^nd true,
'^ V> ith kindly smile and open brow were nigh."
All, all the joys forever lost and gone,
The buoyant hopes of early, happy days,
The new delights of each recurring morn,
The moonlight rambles in the wooded glen,
Or merry dance, or circle round the hearth.
To list with strained ear to fearful tales,
Or legends of the fairy sprites of eld —
All, all "neath fiincy"s sway came hack again.
. Alas ! too soon awaking, sad I found
Twas but a mocking vision of the night!
REFUTATION AFTER DEATH.
It is very singular, how the fact of a man's
death often seems to give people a truer idea of
his character, whether for good or evil, than
they have ever possessed while he was living and
acting among them. Death is sogenuinea fact,
that it excludes falsehoods, or betrays its empti-
ness ; it is a touchstone that proves the gold,
and dishonors the baser metal. Could the de-
parted, whoever he may be, return in a week
after his decease, he would almost invariably
tind himself at a higher or a lower point than he
had formerly occupied on the scale of public
appreciation. — Hauihonie.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE LAST LOOK ON NATURE.
BV JOSEPH H. BUTLER.
0, for one hour upon the hills
Such as in health I knew ;
When bounding by the gushing rills,
I brushed the morning dew I
I must look on those pleasant things
niiich gave me joy before ;
I must walk by the silver springs,
And see the flowers once more !
The wild bee nestles on the breast
Of yonder opened rose ;
Ah, they will sport when Vta at rest
Where yon green willow grows —
And every flower as now will bloom,
And nature will he gay,
When I am mouldering in the tomb,
Shut from the light of day !
Ton stream will leap and sing, as now,
The golden harvest rise,
When gi-Lm decay sits on my hrow.
And darkness clouds these eyes.
A better world, 0 joy I is mine,
When this brief life is o'er ;
Where angels tread tbe fields sublime.
And sorrow is no more I
Whilst we live let us live well ; for be a man
ever so rich when he lights his fire, death may,
perhaps, epter his door before it be burnt out.
G L E A S O N ' S 1» I C T O R I A L
DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION.
AN EL.\BORATE AND ARTISTIC ILLUSTRATION OF THE FAMOUS AND
DECISIVE BATTLE OF WATERLOO, FOUGHT ON THE I.Sth OF JUNE, 1815.
?{78
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Wrltf:on for GIoaHon'H Pictorial.]
AUTUMN.
•BY ALICE OARV. ,
On Hio brown, floworlesH niwulow Uos
The wraith orauniniei' ; out llowoi-a brigUt
Nod heavy on lier dimtli-blliiil cyvs,
SmillnK with uiclftucholy light.
Ami Autumn, with liifl oyellclH voU
DroojiiHl to her beiuity, sits to«ilay,
JUb aaJ hoiu't nwci-tly coiiil'ortml !
By storniB upon thoir Htiirk'HH way.
Softflona continuous, ininKHtiK) thrill
Our houIh, tiH notes that sweetly bleni.1,
Until wc ciiDuot, if we will,
Tell whore th(«y or begin or enil.
And while tlie hluo fly singB so yf^M,
And while tliu orickct chirps flo low;
In tho bi'Ight gnisH I seiu'co can hsU
If thcro bo anisy-flukofl, or Buow.
But when along tho sIumbcrouH blue,
And di-eamy, (luiut atinosphoro,
I loolt to find tho April dow,
I know tlio autumn time is liPie.
Tho lamplesfl hollow of tho skies
Ifi full of mists, or blank, or ilun ;
Where all day, Poft and warm, there lies
A shadow that should he the suji.
The winds go noiseloea on their way,
Scarcely the lightest twig is stiiTod;
Not through the wild green boughs of May
Slips the blue hzard so unheard.
Under the woolly mullen, flat
Against the dust, together creep
The shining beetles ; and the bat [
Is drowsing to his winter sleep.
The iron-weeds' red tops are downj
Wilted from all tbelr summer sheen ;
The fennePsgoldcn buds are brown,
And loncsomest of all the scene ;
Hither and thither lightly blows
A white cloud o'er the darkening wood,
Like some unpastured lamb that goes
Climbing and wandering for food.
But plenty gladdens all the world,
For corn is ripe, if flowers be o'er ;
Autumn, with yellow beard uncurled
In summer's grave-damps, sigh no more.
[Written for Gleason^a Pictorial.]
:URKEY AM* THE TURKS.
No. SIV.
I
' BY DR. JEROME V. C. SMITH.
HOSPITALS.
r^HARiTT is a distinguished virtue in the esti-
.tion of the Mahommedana. Constantinople
srishes many institutions which have in view
comfort of the unfortunate. Hospitals in all
,er countries originated in a philanthropic
1 truly Christian spirit ; but it is very question-
e whether any higher principle than economy
to their establishment by the Sultans. Cer-
ily Christianity had nothing to do with their
relopment.
t was thought good policy, probably, to mend
I repair those savage villains who have com-
'ed the armies of a series of bloody, conquer-
JMoslem heroes, rather than the country of
[i, totally ignorant of arms.
I did not pay much attention, however, to the
I'ely Turkish hospitals. Left to themselves,
loss of life, through the ignorance of the na-
, medical attendiints, would be terrific. From
RViowledge of their own incapacity, they em-
oyed European physicians and surgeons.
)ne of the best and most extensive hospitals
)ngs to the Greeks, located a short distance
n the famous Seven Towers. "With its im-
isely long wings, and ample accommodations,
ppeared to be a receptacle for all who have
means of providing for themselves, when
rtaken with sickness.
L large court was emhraccd by the hospital,
;hich there were drying grounds for cloths,
paths for patients lo take exercise, entered
jugh a high gate.
in office on the right hand was immediately
lin the arch, where we obtained permission
;o precisely where there was nothing to be
I of the institution.
.pplicaiion had been made to the physician
he establishment, a Greek, several days be-
, for an opportunity to inspect the establish-
it, but it was disregarded, although he was
Irmcd that a medical stranger from America
piled the favor. Fearing that by waiting
fcr, the opportunity would be wholly lost, as
^opc of a pass from the doctor had been
almndoned, wo redo on horseback to it, Tho
ride alforded n fine view of the city from another
point; gave us a correct idea of the Armenian
and Greek quarters, hcsido the Seven Towers
and other object!* of historical importance.
After lounging; about the enclosure a little
time, wo walked into tho oflice, where the diroc-
tor.s happened to be on husinCKN. Wc made a
re(]uest of ibom to go through the wards, mating
that the object was to compare their aeeommoda-
tioiis and methods of treatment, with similar
charities in other countries.
On stating t!ie fact that I was a jdiysician,
many civilities followed quite beyond our expec-
tations. Our names and country were requested.
Being seated, staring each other in the face,
neither party could possibly make the other com-
prehend what the other said, very satisfactorily.
However, one of the gentlemen marched to
mc with a sugar bowl on a tray, with a silver
teas|joon. Not knowing|What was required, and
Jiesitating, he made a motion for me to take a
dose out of the vessel. It was a red jelly-like
confection, which created an immediate thirst
on being swallowed. That was the object, to
give a relish to some tiny cups of coflfee that
forthwith followed.
The directors then led off from one apartment
to another. We next requested to examine the
insane. They granted the request with extreme
reluctance, and well they might, from a con-
sciousness that ihey both practised and tolerated
something wrong in their treatment.
Both men, boys and women were actually
chained by their necks or wrists, to iron bolts in
the floor. Mattresses were on the floor, far
enough asunder to prevent the wretched crea-
tures from interfering with one another.
A boy had bruised his own head shockingly,
either with his chain, or upon the floor. Some
were asleep, stupid, or exhausted by the weight
of their miseiies. A finely-developed Greek,
from one of the islands, had been apprehended
by the Turkish authorities on account of some
insurrectionary demonstration that would have
cost him his life, had it not been for the dis-
covery that the bold hater of the Turks was un-
questionably insane.
The Greeks pleaded for him successfully, and
agreed to keep him a strictly secured prisoner
for five years, at their own cost, and the custody
of a daring fellow was given over to them. His
eyes sparkled while relating his wrongs, — de-
claring at the same breath, that he was no more
insane than his keepers, although heavily chain-
ed. Were lie to get loose, the hospital would
feel the vengeance of the law.
We did not continue our explorations very
far, because the little shown was too painful to
be prolonged. No effort at kindness, no sooth-
ing sounds strike the ears of those poor afflicted
human beings.
I believe the insane are fed and clothed, and
the best of intentions influence those who have
them in charge. But it will be a long period be-
fore people iu Constantinople can feel that it is
safe or humane to permit lunatics to exercise in
a yard.
In the Turkish asylums, the system is precise-
ly what it is under the administration of the
Greeks — shockingly bad. Probably Greek phy-
sicians are employed, where any medical man is
commissioned to visit them.
On the whole, the process of management in
a great moristan or madhouse, visited by me in
Cairo, is superior to the practice in Turkey, in-
asmuch as chains were not used, and the incar-
cerated, reason-bereft inmates had tolerable sized
rooms, and no interruptions in the way of exer-
cise in waliving in them.
All other hospitals are conducted as they are
everywhere else, when under the judicious con-
trol of European surgeons, as most of them are.
It is quite unnecessary to devote a line further
to them, since the whole may be summed up
thus, viz.', the sick soldiers are received, and the
surgeons cure them if they can.
Opium is both smoked as well as taken, it is
surmised, in a Christian manner, by swallowing.
This vice they unquestionably learned of Euro-
peans ; but the practice of excessive stimulation
is confined to circles of the rich exclusively. It
is not impossible that hashherb, a composition
in which is a portion of the extract of Indian
hemp, may be secretly used at some of the out-
of-the-way coffee houses. The Turks study how
to stimulate themselves, without producing in-
toxicarion. Phillers, or what might vulgarly
enough be denominated luvc powders, are always
in re(|uisition to recruit the exhausted powers of
persons of the first rank.
Hakim Bashy, a great somebody, of whom we
know nothing, coiiKcqucniial as he is at homo,
rose in favor, obtained wealth and the particular
friend.ship of Sultan IMiihmoud, who died, us be-
fore slated, of delirium tremens, l>eca«se he kept
his royal jtatrun in a i)rCH(-'nt constant state of
animal exaltation by the madjoon ho invented
for (lie jinrpose. The Sultan considered iiim-
Hclf wonderfully invigorated in the manner lie
most desired, by the quack's medicines, sajB
report.
An apothecary cannot succeed in Constanti-
nople, unless he can prc])are some sort of mad-
joon. All tlic Turks of a certain condition call
for these supposed restoratives of an abused con-
stitution. Some arc lucky enough to have it
bruited abroad that they have discovered a now
preparation — a never-failing bracer, and, of
course, it creates a sensation in the circle where
such intelligence outweighs all other consider-
ations.
Those .'^o much coveted compositionB are
usually a mixture of cloves, musk, cinnamon,
and similar spices ; but their eflicacy is in part
due to excited imaginations. Had the druggists
the knowledge we possess of the specific action
of hehuius divaclrr, some sti'finge physiological
phenomena might be anticipated.
An impression is entertained among these self-
satisfied people, that the introduction of costly
gems, such as diamonds, pearls, etc., or silver
and gold, adds prodigiously to the active medi-
cinal virtues. Thus a pharmaceutic preparation
is patent according to its cost. AViien such sin-
gular doses are ordered for the rich, the druggist
contrives to cheat them out of the real articles,
and substitutes something else, for which he ob-
tains a gratifying profit.
On the other hand, medicines are actually put
up for the purpose of tranquillizing the passions,
influenced and excited by a life of dreamy seclu-
sion in a harem, without a single intellectual
pursuit, where youth and beauty are made pris-
oners for life, the property, perhaps, of an old
man in his dotage.
Certain old women abound in Constantinople
who are in perpetual request by natives as well
as enlightened foreigners, on account of their
accredited skill in curing obscure chronic mala-
dies. Indeed they are the great quacks of Tur-
key, penetrating the interior of families, and
sowing the seeds of discontent where the master
contemplates his treasures, not by stocks, bonds
and mortgages, but by the transcendant beauty
of his wives. These old hags officiate in vari-
ous capacities, and perform services for their
employers that would be quite new to society in
New England.
TRADE AND COMMERCE.
Notwithstanding the extent of the Ottoman
empire, and the navigable waters at the com-
mand of the people, no progress has been made
in maritime enterprise. The Turks are not sea-
men, even under the best advantages for develop-
ing nautical skill. Willi hundreds of beautiful
harbors ; the Black Sea with its incalculable
riches, and the seat of empire, Constantinople,
in the focus of natural trade for the whole world,
were it not for the persevering energy of Euro-
pean nations and the Americans, but very few
vessels would ever glide over the bosom of their
own waters.
They possess neither taste nor mechanical in-
genuity in naval architecture, although the gov-
ernment, at the present moment, has some of the
finest warships and steamers that ever floated
through the ]^ardanelles. To foreign artisans
and foreign designers is Turkey indebted for all
her beautiful vessels, whether steamers or men-
of-war.
Greeks are valuable sailors, and there is an
energy of character in them. The commercial
relations of their former oppressive masters with
other countries, where any existed, was through
their efi^'orts. Tliey built fi.ne coasting vessels,
and sent their workmen to those islands that fur-
nished the most appropriate timber to construct
ships ; and had it not been for the short-sight-
ed policy of the divan, instead of discourag-
ing and embarrassing their efforts, the Mediter-
ranean, ages since, would have been swarming
with masts bearing the crescent.
After the achievement of Grecian indepen-
dence, which was accomplished by the most
heroic deeds of daring, and the memorials of the
revolution had become partially forgotten by the
masses of bigoted Mussulmen, the industrious
Greeks renewed their business of ship building at
Rhodes, and other equally advantageous stations
for commercial tliiift; but 'lurlush ignorance,
stuplrlity (iiul jealousy drove tliem ofi', never to
return till better times came round.
Mr, Kckford, an American navnl constructor,
under the patronage of the late cfllcicnt Sultan,
Mahmoud II, designed and comi>leted Hhips that
arc unequalled for beauty, capacity and thorough-
ness, and it might perhaps he said, in magnitude.
Even with huch vcBsels, as good as they could
be, the government couUI never rely upon itJi
Turkish subjects to ni.an tho ropes, or navigate
them at sea.
Greeks formed a majority of the seamen, and
although the number retained on board the Mar-
modiah, the wonder of the day, is so small as
scarcely to be suificient for manning the yards,
still they arc mostly Greeks. There is a pros-
pect that the few vessels lying before the mosque
in the Golden Horn, will, piecemeal, fall into de-
cay, and finally drop to pieces in front of the
arsenal.
Some of the highest naval functionaries were
never out sight of land. An admiral of the fleet
may have been raised from ilic bench of a shoe-
maker. It is sufficient, if the Sultan wills it, he
can make or unmake at his pleasure. Experi-
ence seems to be no recommendation at all,
either with his Serene Highness on the throne,
or in the great council of state, for commanding
positions in the naval service. Repeated instan-
ces are recorded of men being converted from
land favorites to marine heroes, who, perhaps,
were never on the deck of a gunship, till they
walked it with the dignity of commander-in-
chief.
It is impossible, therefore, with such views of
what is necessary as a qualification for maritime
life, that either a mercantile or national marine
could thrive. The Turkish mind seems not to
comprehend why a successful Pasha may not
navigate the ocean, and achieve glory on the
restless billows, as well as with an army on terra
finna.
Daring as they are on their own soil, or when
goaded on by a fanatical spirit for the subjuga-
tion of Christian infidels in war, they are wholly
destitute of those properties which fit men for
the excitements of ocean life. They, therefore,
must always be dependent on foreigners for
manning their vessels, and consequently no pro-
gress has or tiver will be made by them in com-
mercial trade or intercourse.
A nation, however favorably located and am-
bitious, in this age, cannot make advances in
power, and certainly not in civilization, without
the first element of national grandeur — com-
merce. Hence the Turks must deteriorate, and
lose instead of gaining wealth or vitality. Theil*
institutions cannot stand under the influences to
wdiich they are exposed through the direct influ-
ence of Christian powers. While the world is
advancing in intelligence and moral strength,
Turkey withers and wanes.
In speaking of the celebrated Island of Rhodes,
in the course of these observations, the absurd
policy of the Turks will be shown, in the signal
manner in which they have contrived to drive to
the verge of destruction one of the fairest and
most productive islands in the Mediterranean,
by forcing away the Greek ship-builders. If
they cannot have a perfect monopoly, the gov-
ernment prefers to have nothing at all.
Several beautifully modelled steamboats, lying
at Constantinople, appear rather objects of inter-
est than utility. Occasionally one of them is
seen moving, but rarely. On a cfrtain occasion,
when the Sultan had gone thiough with the
drudgery of state, on Friday, having said his
prayers in a royal manner, while the -troops
were under arms and the population in commo-
tion to obtain a peep at the unmatched monarch,
he slid away from public gaze, and was rowed
rapidly to a steamer in the Golden Horn. I
saw him ascend the gangway with a lively step.
The steam was not on, and he mu=t have either
amused himself by inspecting the machinery and
interior finish, or, screened by a partition, he
speculated upon the multitude of human beings
who were watching his august movements. We
could not discover when he took his leave, or
how or when he returned to the palace.
An old fashioned steamboat that used to ply
between Bangor and Boston, many years ago, is
gradually turning into dust, near where the fleet
is anchored.
When the late Sultan purchased it of some
enterprising Yankee, who had the temerity to
cross the Atlantic in the frail thing, it must have
been considered a masterpiece of mechanism,
or it never cou'd have been disposed of at all.
The heavy, coarse build, the nngracefulness of
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
379
the hull, the bluntncss of the bow, and the gene-
ral unoouthness of the boat ns a whole, is in
striking contrast with the light, clegimt French
and English boats since purchased by the Sultan.
"While at Constantinople, we saw a magnih-
cent steamboat, of medium size, that had been
presented to the Sultan by his wary vassal, the
Viceroy of Egypt, Abbas Pasha. Altbough
constructed, said report, mainly at Alexandria,
it was thoroughly an English boat, and probably
built in England, where his Egyptian Highness
has had several orders of that kind executed.
Just before my arrival at Smyrna, the Sultan
had been there, and made an excursion through
some parts of the city. He came down from.
Constantinople in one of the steamers.
Preparations had been made oh a magnificent
scale, in Oriental taste, we were informed, by
the Pasha of Smyrna, even to lodging the des-
cendant of the Prophet on shove over night. But
his majesty, for reasons best known to himself,
merely rode through some of the principal streets,
and quickly returned to the boat.
It was remarked that even while on horseback,
the little lime that he was mounted, he betrayed
evident symptoms of uneasiness. He probably
felt that a bullet from an obscure window might
be as detrimental to his royal head, in Smyrna,
as anywhere else.
No enthusiasm was discoverable in the people ;
no cries of "Live forever, 0 king!" nor was a
single gun fired in honor of their sovereign's ar-
rival or departure. It is not customary to mani-
fest their satisfaction either by an uproar or fine
speeches, but with the smoke of tobacco pipes.
Had Sultan Medjid inquired into the statistics
of the loyal city, he would have ascertained the
population to be not far from two hundred
thousand, composed of Greeks, Armenians, Jews,
Christians and Turks.
Mosques are numerous, but not remarkably
elegant. All the public offices are mean looking
retreats, in which very grave, eminent persons
smoke away life, dipping largely into the reve-
nues that pass through their fingers. A more
proverbially honest set of merchants could not
be found. In all their extensive bargainings
with foreign merchants, their word is always
sufficient, and a sti-ict fulfilment of their obliga-
tions is rarely violated in the slightest degree.
The Sultan might have been instructed in regard
to the commercial enterprise of his principal
maritime city, had he had a particle of curiosity
or anxiety to understand the resources of a
flourishing port.
Whether any of the ladies of the royal house-
hold accompanied their lord and master, was
not known ; and it was equally uncertain in what
way he was provided for on board. Of course,
every measure was taken to make the excursion
as agreeable as possible, but what would be held
to he so, was a question that the European resi-
dents were curious to ascertain.
The trip was extended no further than Smyr-
na, and it may be safely presumed the Sultan
has never been a greater distance from Constan-
tinople in any direction, within the boundaries
of his ample Moslem estate. His predecessors
were never distinguished for a love of travel.
"When roused by a love of conquest, some of
them have exhibited the ferocity of tigers, ac-
companying their armies more for the purpose
of goading them on to exterminating slaughter,
than from feelings of humanity, to prevent mise-
ry, studying the resources, or contemplating the
benefit of the country. As a mere tour of plea-
sure, Sultan Medjid's hasty voyage to Smyrna
has had no precedent in the history of his family.
NEIGHEOHHOOD OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
One of the perplexing circumstances attending
a visit to Constantinople, grows out of the diffi-
culty of determining where the city is and where
it is not. No sucli embarrassment is felt in any
other place in Turkey. Prom its location on
botli sides of the Bosphorus, and the complica-
ted network of narrow lanes, often very steep,
dark, and forbidding to a stranger, although dig-
nified as streets, without a guide familiar with
each and every cur\-e, minaret and landmark, it
is impossible to explore either the city or the
environs.
One day we crossed over to Scutari, having
fine horses for an excursion on the Asiatic side.
After passing beyond the immediate margin of
the houses which defined the line of city popula-
tion, the country opened magnificently. Vast
fields of rich, but miserably cultivated land were
spread out as far as the power of vision extend-
ed. There were scarcely any land divisions, ex-
cept near some solitary dwelling. About three
miles distant from the Bosphorus carried us
quite beyond even country establishments.
Several large liouscs, having a lonely, solita-
ry appearance, with latticed windows, the proba-
ble temporary residences of well-to-do gentlemen
of the city, were passed, but neither cheerfulness
of a 'pect, the hum of human industry, nor taste-
ful improvement of the grounds, was recognized
in a single instance.
No carriages rumble along the way, for the
best of reasons, viz., there are no roads that
would admit them. Those excessive!)' awkward,
fantastically ornamented ox carts, which are oc-
casionally driven through one of the streets of
Pera, perhaps the only one in that section of
Constantinople wide enough to admit a wheeled
vehicle, are rarely to be found anywhere but
there, and on the way to the Sweet Waters.
Occasionally we passed a fat Turk, trotting at
a leisurely pace, who appeared to be at peace
with tiie whole world, from the complacency
with which he contemplated the picturesque
scenery at the base of a grand elevation called
Bugerloo.
A few females were grouping their course be-
tween the tall tombstones of the vast cemetery —
the largest, no doubt, in any country of modem
times ; but they invariably drew down their veils
as we neared them, and wandered off among the
trunks of the tall sombre cypresses, quite beyond
the ken of vision.
After galloping from one point of interest to
another, we finally ascended the side of Buger-
loo. The elevation is sufficient to give a view
of the city and vicinity, which, for beauty of ap-
pearance, is unrivalled. The domes, minarets,
columns, towers and lofty edifices, have a splen-
did and truly imposing air of richness, magnifi-
cence and grandeur from that lovely but neglect-
ed position.
Those lovely edifices were presumed to be
the country residences of such denizens of the
great city as prefer to be beyond the scrutiny of
their prying neighbors.
Some of the most costly, and certainly by far
the pleasantest dwellings in the possession of
the Turks, are on both sides of the Bosphorus,
towards the Black Sea. They always have a
sombre look, however, there being none of those
appendages of a domestic establishment, like
those of Europe or America, which give anima-
tion to it.
No open doors are permitted ; noisy, frolick-
ing children never enliven the apartment, so that
the passer-by recognizes no indications of that
kind of every-day felicity which characterizes the
homes of a corresponding class in other coun-
tries. By this I mean corresponding in that so-
cial position which has its foundation in proper-
ty, but in no other way.
Scutari has many objects of interest for the
stranger, but it seems to be rather neglected, in
consequence of its locality on the shore of an-
other continent. It is a city in all the essential
characteristics, although viewed and governed
as a section of ihe city of the Sultan. A carriage
might pass tolerably well through some of the
streets, which are wide, and kept in better con-
dition than at Pera, on the opposite side.
Here is a beautiful valley — Bulbul Derici —
the home of the nightingales, which, in connec-
tion with the magnificent hill of Bonkgalen,
under any other people than the satisfied Turks,
would have become one of the loveliest places on
earth.
Nature has Iiecn extremely bountiful in the
arrangement and diversity of scenery, and what
of it has not been marred and defaced by a suc-
cession of semi-barbarians through a succession
of ages, is still extremely lovely and command-
ing. Usually the ministers from Asiatic powers
have their official quarters at Scutari, which is,
doubtless, more agreeable to them than Pera,
where European representatives reside, on ac-
count of the inhabitants being nearly all Mo-
hammedans.
The few Jews and Armenians who have a
foothold there, are not a source of annoyance,
much as they are abominated by pious Moslem
believers. A splendid mosque, erected by a fa-
vorite daughter of the Magnificent Soleiman, as
he was called by his cringing subjects — as well
as Kanuni, which means inslitutor — considering
the period of its creation, is a noble structure.
It was built in the year 1566. In the reign of
Soleiman, Elizabeth was on the throne of
England.
The traveller should examine the mosque
with care, exteriorlv; and if he has been so for-
tunate as to procure a firman for entering the
inside of these holy places, a series of surprises
await him. Sultan Selim once set up a printing
otTice in Scutai'i, and undertook, also, to manu-
facture cotton in a large way, but they fell into
disrepute among the ignorant, fanatical rabble,
and when he died, they were destroyed.
From the highest eminence on the Bagerloo,
sitting upon our horses, the vast panorama of
Constantinople and its suburbs could be taken
in by the eye. There is no sight like it for va-
riety, beauty and magnificence of scenery com-
bined. Another very charming prospect is ob-
tained lower down, at a spot known as Fcnner
Batcbi, from which the various islands, lovely
as jjossible, reposing, as it were, on the bosom
of the calm sea, are unsurpassed in all that is
delightful in water prospect.
No circumstance surprised me so much as the
spiteful, disturbed expression of the females we
passed on this excursion. It is true but very
little of their faces was exposed, yet a keen,
black eye occasionally peered out by the side of
a closely drawn veil, and it flashed with an uu-
mistakeable energy, at every infidel it rested
upon. Some of them muttered a hasty sentence
as they rushed by, and others, when at a safe
distance for retreat, in case of a demonstration
from us, raised their voices a tone or two higher.
Turkish children ai-e truly beautiful, when
well dressed. Even with infants, fine clothes
contribute to their loveliness. With the upper,
independent classes, an ugly-featured child would
be an anomaly, for the reason that their mothers
are selected on account of their good looks, and
hence the race is physically improving, as the
family progresses.
Of course the poor, or such as occupy inter-
mediate places, between simple artisans, shop-
keepers, and those removed by their possessions
beyond the necessity for servile employments,
cannot indulge in the luxury of foreign wives,
and their faces, therefore, are of a coarser
mould, their expressions harsb, and the cheeks
angular.
We could not discover that the same ridicu-
lous notions were entertained by mothers, that
obtain universality in Egypt, that infants were
to remain encrusted in dirt till one year of age.
Boys are held in higher estimation than girls,
and are commonly more caressed, even by their
nurses, fathers and mothers.
In no instance, where groups of females were
enjoying themselves under the shade of wide-
spreading trees, or rowed in boats about the un-
equalled harbor above the bridges, were little
children ever seen with them. Perhaps they
might have been an annoyance on these pleasure
excursions, or home was thought a fitter place
for them, under the charge of slaves.
Occasionally we met servants carrying costly
dressed little ones, followed by ladies enveloped
in such extraordinary contrivances, that nothing
but their yellow slippers could be recognized as
an appendage of a female.
Wherever we were brought in contact with
servants, they were remarkable for their uniform
propriety of conduct. Female servants are
never employed beyond the harems, unless in
the office of airing the contents of the nursery.
Stout men in the houses of the Franges, or for-
eigners, execute all the functions which the other
sex are in the habit of doing with us.
EXCURSION TO THE ELACK SEA.
While we were on the heights of Bugerloo,
a glorious opportunity was had for contemplat-
ing the graceful windings of the Bosphorus to-
wards the Black Sea. On returning to Pera,
preparations having been made for a jaunt to
Euxine, boats were hired, and ofl' they shot with
the rapidity of a steamer. But the stout, mus-
cular arms of the boatmen soon began to relax,
and shortly, a slower but good speed carried us
against the strong current that sets down into
the Mediterranean.
With a commendable exercise of aquatic judg-
ment, the caique was kept near the European
bank, which afforded a near and satisfactory in-
spection of a series of palacco and private dwell-
ings scarcely inferior to the imperial residences.
The Turks of Constantinople discover a good,
if not a refined taste, in establishing themselves
on the shores of the Bosphorus. They can only
look up and down the river, and to the opposite
precipitous hills, rising one beyond another in
terraces.
Stationary boatmen are always in waiting, a
short distance above the new palace, to assist
boats with a tow line in passing a severe rapid.
The rope is thrown to them, and away they run,
dragging the unwilling boat through the ripples,
till fairly past the difficult strait, when a few
paras satisfy tlicm for their arduous exertions.
Sails arc rarely if ever attached to small boats.
Hard rowing is the mode of progression in the
water about Constantinople. Labor saving ma-
chines or apparatus are not encouraged any
more than Russia duck. Tlie caiques are ad-
mirably modelled, aud have the appearance o
being made of a single piece of timber, so neatly
fitted are the joints and seams. Each oar, close
to where the handle is clenched, bulges into a
large oval ball, which balances the blade in lift-
ing it out of the water, making the labor much
easier for the rowers.
There is a continuous line of beautifully lo-
cated, but rather prison-like houses on both sides
of the Bosphorus, perhaps for ten miles. Some
of them arc somewhat shabliy in appearance,
from age. All of them seem to be spacious
within, though nothing is known of the arrange-
ments inside by strangers.
The grounds are not laid out as they might
be. Where fruit trees and flowers might grow
in profusion, there is notliing at all. We scarce-
ly saw a human being the whole distance, which
shows how exclusively the residents are confined
to their houses.
A short canal leads from the water under
many of the Bosphorus houses, into which a
boat may enter, from whence per'sons may as-
cend by steps into a room above. With this ar-
rangement, a front door cannot be of much ser-
vice, as they rarely swing on their hinges.
All the land at the back of the long chain of
marine villas is steep, rising to the height of
some hundreds of feet. In many places, but hav-
ing no appearance of ever having been cultivated.
An occasional tree, with noble, wide-spreading
branches, relieves the monotony that would oth-
ermse be complete.
Perched at the very summit of one of the lofty
elevations about seven miles from the town, we
saw a charming little pavilion, partly hidden by
the foliage of vigorous trees that were waving
over its roof. It is called a kiosk — a favorite re-
treat of the Sultan. Accompanied by one or
two of the royal ladies, he sits there, and, while
puffing a nargilah, complacently looks down
.upon the mighty city of which he is the uncon-
ti'olled master.
Still further on, the walls of a new palace, ex-
tremely elegant in its proportions, with highly
finished fluted marble columns, will soon be
ready for occupancy.
No one could give any satisfactory account of
the object or probable destiny of the grand struc-
ture, which will equal some of the finest private
country estates in England.
When a house is completed in Turkey,it sim-
ply means the house and nothing else ; since
gardens, walks, tastefully disposed shrubbery
and plants, are not common.
We wer'e assured, however, that the Sultan
was the owner and even projector of the hand-
some dwelling; and moreover, that it was sur-
mised for one of his royal daughters, whom he
hoped, if it could be brought about, for a wife of
the youngest son of his rebel subject, Mahoramed
Ali, of Egypt.
In extreme old age, that bloody hero and re-
generator of the valley of the Nile, had a sou
born by a very young mother. If he lives, in
the course of events, he must in time have the
government of his father's dominions, with all
their ancient antiquities, resting upon his shoul-
ders.
Should Abbas Pasha — already a troublesome
vassal — die, abdicate, or be compelled to leave
the country, Said Pasha, his brother, admiral of
the fleet, who has recently been visiting Europe,
is the next heir to the vice regal throne; and
after him, the young prince.
It lias been asserted that the Sultan is ambi-
tious to get possession of the little fellow, which
would give him at once a strong controlling in-
fluence over the affairs of that miserablygovern-
ed appendage of the Tui-kisli empire. Rumor
says that the Sultan first invited Abbas Pasha to
permit the prince to visit his court, but the hcrse-
loving ruler apprehended a plot, and thei-efore
respectfully declined the honor. Finally, the
new rural palace towards the Black Sea, quite
beyond all other establishments, either public
or private, was tendered the Egyptian dcfpot for
the use of his Utile relative, if he would permit
him to accompany his mother and suite, lo mal;e
a pleasure excursion to the Golden Horn, which
was also respectfully dcdinccl.
380
GLEASON'S riCTOTlIAI. DRAWING UiHm f;()]MPANI()N.
RON PEDRO H.
Herewiih we give (i fine cnprnving
of the Kmperor of Bnizil, f'lom ft
painting hy Almeida. A di'scriplion
of Don Pedro and the ccuntry itself
will no doubt much interc&toiir read-
ers. The Empire of Brazil borders
on the ocean fur DOO lengues, and is
traversed in every direction hy the
finest rivers in the world ; it is a
rountry rich and fertile in ihe hit:h-
est degree, with a mild and healthy
climate, and is alvtndy makinfc vig-
orous steps towards the splendid
future reserved for it by Providence.
Its coasts extend from 2 deg. of
north latitude to the 3! deg. of south
liititnde, and TjOO leagues inland.
Its soil produces almost without cul-
ture all the plants of Europe, Asia,
and Africa. Its climtite is milder
than that of Naples or Cadiz. It
includes among its cities Rio de Ja-
neiro, the capital of the Empire, one ^
of tlie most commercial ports and
the moiit magnificent harbor in the
wor'd, with a population of near
;iUO,UUO souls; Bdli'a, with 140,000;
Pernamhueo, with 80,000; Maran-
ham, with 3.5,000; Para, Santos, -^X
Porio Allegre. Ccara, Maeeyo, Rio
Grande, Espirito Santo, Cottinquiba
Campos, and many other populous,
active, and flourishing town-. Its
annual income is at present uhont
.£5,000,000, which has been regular-
ly augmenting one-tenth at least
every year since the accession of the
present Emperor; and, when one ^
considers the number of expcnf^es
which are decentralized, and that
eacli province h&< iti own particular
budget, it is not astoni^^bing that
with such a revenue Brazil pays all
internal expenses, the dividends of
fts debts, Hnd his a surplus revenue
of from £300,000 to .£400,000. The
Constitution of Brazil, given to it by
Don Pedro I, is admirably sdepted
10 the ft clings, ai:d customs, and
requirements of the inhabitants of
ihi-t vast empire, and has continued
fresh and vigorous in the irild exer-
cise of its laws over the Brazili: 'a
1 ation. It is a singular fact thnt in
the midst of all the repul^.lican insti-
tutions of South America, the Bra-
zilian a^one has fiourishcd grfatand
free: while the others have fallen to
tyrant?, or crumbled to pieces from
the defective elements which c m-
posf d them. And, curiously tnougb,
this Cnntirution of a new enpire
has at this time only two Constitu-
tions in the Christian world more
• ancient than itself — the Ensli-h
and the Federal Constitution of the
United States. — The present Emperor of Brazil
is the son of Don Pedro I, of Braganza and
Bourbon, and of the Arch duchess of Austria,
I.ponnldina He is the legitimate descendant
of the three grsat royal houses in Europe — Bra-
ganza, Bourbon, and Hapsburg ; and was pro-
PORTRAIT OF DON PEDRO II, KMl^fcROR OF BKAZIO.
claimed, upon the abdication of hi; fiither. at the
age of five years and some months. A Council
of Regency composed of three members, took
the reins of government, which sliortly passed
info fie hands of one regent; and so truly had
statesmen of every political shade the good of
their country and the rights of their prince at
heart, that during this critical period, from 18."? I
to 1835, when France, Italy, Sjiain, Portugsil,
Poland, Greece, and all American States w-re
in a general state of disturbance, and had lo-t
their institutions, or modified them vijlentlv,
Brazil preserved its Constitution
will) only sotnc modifications legally
established in its municipal or pro-
vincial councils. The education of
the young Emperor was perfect. In
every brunch of learning that it was
thought necessary to teach him, he
made remarkable progress. His two
f isters — Donna Januaria, married,
in 1844, to the ('ount of Aquila,
brother of the King of Naples; and
Donna Frflncisca, married, in 1848,
to the Prince dc Joinville — shared
with equal ardor in bis hifiii and va-
ried studies. In July, 1840, the
Emperor Don Pedro II was (al-
though he had not yet attained his
majority) declared by the Chambers
to be of age, and assumed the sov-
f reign power when not quite fifteen.
His imperial highness was united in
marriage, on the 30th of May, 1843,
to the Princess Theresa-Christina-
Maria, sister of the King of Naples,
eminently distinguished for her ac-
complishments, her patronage of the
fine arts, unbounded generosity, and
amiable disposition. From the
above union were born two princes,
who died young, and two princesses,
the eldest of whom— Christina Leo-
poldina — bears the title of Imperial
Princess, as hpir-presumptive to the
crown. Don Pedro is tall and stout ;
he has large blue eyes, fair and
abundant hair and beard — a northern
type which seems to have come from
^ fair Germany rather than the warm
latitudes of the brown Rio. He is
an expert horseman, and delights in
athletic exercises. When at Rio, he
is constantly in public. The Em-
peror receives twice a week his sub-
jects and foreigners who desire to be
presented to him. He speaks to
every one, and listens with the cour-
teous mannprs of a gentleman, and
converses with each in his own lan-
guage ; writing and speaking fluently
English, French, German, Spanish,
and Italian. Strongly attached to
literature, the young prince presides
assiduously at the sittings of the His-
torical and Geographical Institute of
Rio, and his interest is never more
vividly excited than when he hears
the reading of historical or literary
papers concerning the origin of his
empire. But the great work of Don
Pedro II, is that of having openly
attacked the national prejudice of
the necessity of black slaves, and
having overcome it. It was not suf-
ficient to decree the suppression of
the traffic, but it was necessary to
open up to the agriculturists new
ways and means, by which they
should, within a longer or shorter delay, dispense
with black laborers. Two very etf:;ctive liws to
this end were passed in 1850; one, concerning
the concession of territorial properties ; the oiher,
settling the mode of colonization. These laws
hare been attended with the happiest results.
IPISH HARDEST SCENF, IN KILKENNV, IRELAND.
[See page o81, for dcscriptiou.]
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
381
TEEDEKICK GLEASON, Pkoprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEIVTS OF OUR NEXT KUMIJER.
" The Humbled Pharisee," a story with a moral, by T.
S. Arthur.
" Daniel Webster, as a statesman; a jurist and a man,"
an article by Rev. F. W. Holland.
'•The A'ay to Washington," No. Ill, by Ben: Perlet
POORE
"Turkey and the Turks,'' No. XV, Excursion to the
Black Sea, etc . bv Dr. Jerome V. C- Smith.
" The Life of Trial," verses, by Ph«ebe 0.\ret.
" The Child's Prayer." lines, by Jenny Maesh.
" Autumn Musings," poem, by E Curtiss Hi.ve.
" Woman's Influence," verses, by Mrs, K. T. Eldredge.
'•I miss thee. Love," lines, by Robert Griffin Staples.
" Blow the Horn," verses, bv Wm Edward Kxowles.
'■ Mount Ida," verses, by Joseph H. Butler.
ILLTJSTKATIONS.
A fine large interior view of the new Musical Hall. Bos-
ton, by our artist, AJ>. Row>e. An admirable piece of
arohittctunil display, representing the finest exhibition
hall in the country.
A large, full page engraving beautifully executed, rcp-
Ksentiog a fine equestrian view, and a likeness of Prince
Albert.
Also- a large, full page picture, in the same style, of
Victoria, Queen of England.
A large, full page engraving, of a very elaborate and
perfect character, representiug the funeral procession of
the citizens of Boston and others, which occurred a few
days since in honor of the lat« Daniel Webster, by our
artist, Ulr. RotOfe.
Also, a large, full page engraving, forming a fine me-
dallion picture of Webster, surrounded by a mourDing
wreath, emblematical of the present grief of the nation
for his loss. By our artist, ill', tioivse.
A series of hunting scenes, very capitally executed, rep-
resenting the hare in chase, the huntsman mounted and
making a flying leap the pack of dogs in fu;l cry. the
deer in the field scenting their pursuers, and a large, fine
head of a hound— forming a capital teries of pictures.
A fine picture by our artist, Mr. Mannitie-t representing
Osmanli, the Mameluke, as described in the commence-
ment of our novelette, by Ben: Perley Poore.
A picture of a Chiuese Water Bearer, navigating a boat
in a most novel manner, and of a most curious construc-
tion.
An engraving of the famous Lola MonteZj in character
as a daneeuse.
A very beautiful picture by our artist, Mr. Rosenbitri^y
representing Irenton i'alls, New Jersey.
THE IRISH HAKVEST.
On the opposite page wc present to our read-
ers a charaeierislic and interesting picture of
Irish rural life. The scene represents a group of
laborers in the harvest field partaking of refresh-
ments after the labors of the day. In many dis-
tricts of Ireland, there are scenes like this whicli
give unmistakable evidence of prosperity, uot-
withstanding the reports that are constantly
reaching us of want and misery in that unfortu-
nate land. It is true that many parts of Ireland
have become very nearly deserted by reason of
the extensive emigration to this country ; but
there are still, as our picture represents, smiling
harvest fields and happy laborers there, still rijh
fields of ripened grain, and richly laden store-
houses of prolific yields. The picture is a truth-
ful one, and, to our eye, has many points of
great and touching interest.
SFIINTEBS.
.... The liberated Abd-el Kadir continues to
be the lion of the day in Paris.
A Frenchman lives in a garret that he
may afford to be a dandy in the street.
.... Boston folks very justly complain of the
high price of provisions in the city.
.... Large quantities of apples have been
shipped for England from New York.
.... There is a Chinese theatrical company
now peiforming in San Francisco,
.... Wild ducks are represented to be un-
usually plenty on the Chesapeake River.
They are erecting a very large theatre
at St. Louis. The pit to hold 1000 persons.
.... Mr. Thackeray has proved immensely
popular in Kew York, as a lecturer.
.... The gold mines of Australia are now
yielding at the rate of $48,000,000 per annum.
.... The Philadelphians are reviving the idea
of erecting a very splendid opera house.
Madame Sontag's net profits from her
concerts in this city amounted to SIO.OOO.
Little Paul Julien, it appears, is quite a
brilliant composer as well as performer.
Mr. Clapp, of the Evening Gazette, ren-
ders his theatrical record exceedingly interesting.
, . . . Mr. Silsbee, the Yankee comedian, has
re-appeared with great s'uccess in London.
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
We present our readers, on pages .376, 377, a
superb, fine, large picture representing the fa-
mous Battle of Waterloo. It is probably the
best picture we have ever given, hut regardless
of expense, we are resolved to give our readers
a paper which shall be unrivalled in beauty, ex-
cellence and real worth, at each weekly visit.
Particularly is this picture timely just at this
period, when the hero of this battle — the re-
nowned and lamented Duke of Wellington — is
just departed from life, and when his deeds are
recalled to the memory of all. The duke and
his suite will easily he discerned in the middle
ground of the picture ; he wears no plume, and
is seated on a full blooded white Arabian. In
the foreground we have represented a portion of
the melee, where the fight has become a hand to
hand one, and where cavalry and infantry are
contending together. The picture is one that
will tell its own storj', and will form a study for
hours.
It will be remembered that this battle took
place on the ISth of June, 1815, between the
allied army under the Duke of Wellington, and
the French under Napoleon. There is some dis-
crepancy in the statements on the subject, but
each army probably consisted of about 70,000
men. The French began the attack between
11 and 12 o'clock in the forenoon. The object
of Napoleon was to defeat the British, or force
ihem to retreat, before tlie Prussians, who he
knew were coming up, could arrive on tlie field;
while the army of the Duke of Wellington was to
maintain its ground till he could be joined by
his allies, when it might be in his power to be-
come the assailant. The attacks of the French
were repeated with the greatest fury ; but they
made no serious impression on the British, by
whom they were sustained and repelled with in-
vincible courage and resolution. At length,
about a quarter past six o'clock, the Prussians
came into the field, with a strong force of from
15,000 to 20,000 men. The English then be-
came the assailants; and though Napoleon
brought forward his guard, which had not pre-
viously been engaged, it could not stem the tor-
rent, and, having been forced to give way, the
whole army got into inextricable confusion, and
the rout became universal.
The slaughter was enonnous. The British
lost, besides officers, about 15,000 men killed
and wounded. The French loss is not exactly
known ; but it was not, perhaps, less, in the bat-
tle and pursuit, than 30,000 men. All their
cannon and baggage also fell into the hands of
their conquerors ; and it may, indeed, be said
that the French army was entirely destroyed.
Such was the Battle of Waterloo, in which the
star of Napoleon set, never to shine again !
Life of Hosea Ballou. — The third edition
of this work, by the editor of the Pictorial, is just
issued from the press, and is for sale, wholesale
and retail, by Abel Tompkins, 38 Comhill, Bos-
ton. We would that all our readers might be-
come familiar with the daily beauty of the life
we have portrayed.
Gleasos's Pictorial. — Out of many illustrated period-
icals that have been started in this country, there is but
one that can be said to have been successful, and estab-
lished itself permanently and effectually. That one is
(ileason's Pictorial. This elegantly illustrated weekly
journal has won for it3-;lf a popularity which is equalled
by no other publication in this country. — Laiisingburgk
GazUe.
Fire Axxiicilatok. — The establishment
where these English humbugs are constructed, in
London, was lately consumed by Jire ! Com-
ment is unnecessary. A quack dying by his own
medicine.
" Uncle Tom's Cabin." — This piece at the
Museum is pecuniarily profitable, for the time
being; but, to our mind, it will add nothing to
the respectability of the establishment, and the
sooner it is dropped the better.
Brevity. — When a man has no design but to
ppeak plain truth, he may say a great deal in a
very narrow compass.
pKRSONAL. — A grandson of the celebrated
Paley was recently ordained in England. He is
going as a missionary to Africa.
What next? — The New York Tribune sug-
gests the fitting of the night cars on railroads
with berths instead of seats.
Popular
AND your life !'
Railway Maxim. — " Your money
e!"
1853.
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL
YOL. IV.
NEW TYPE, NEW HEADING AND
SPLENDID IMPRO VEMENTS,
IN EVERY DEPAKTMEN'T.
GREAT REDUCTION OF PRICE!
Determined to commence the year 1853 with
100,000 !
circulation, we have resolved to reduce the price
of our paper on the 1st of January, to such
terms as shall place it within the reach of all,
and enable us to increase our list of subscribers
to the above number ; we have therefore deter-
mined to offer the most liberal inducement to
clubs, so as to ensure the necessity for publish-
ing this immense edition.
Fully realizing tite spirit of the age, the great
improvement in art, and the constantly increas-
ing intelligence of the people, we shall with this
change of pTiccs also vastly improve our already
splendidly illustrated journal, so as to render it
a most invaluable visitant to every home circle,
both for the beauty of its mechanical execution,
and the intrinsic value of the paper it&elf, as a
literary record of the useful and beautiful.
Therefore, having thoroughly perfected our
plans, especially in improving our engraving
department, as well as the literary character of
the Pictorial, we shall bring out the paper in
such a style as not only to merit all the enco-
miums of praise so lavishly bestowed upon it,
but also so as to challenge increased respect for
its enhanced excellence and perfection. Some
of the proposed features are entirely novel and
new altogether, and will be duly announced.
In short, the whole paper will be far superior to
anything we have ever before given to the
public.
By reference to our columns, it will be seen
that we employ the best writers in the country,
and shall continue to do so. Among them are
the following ladies and gentlemen, who require
no eulogium from us.
Mrs, Asx S. Stephens,
Mrs. L. H. SlQOLKNEV,
Mrs. Alice E Neal,
Miss Pikebe Carey,
Miss Alice Carey,
Mrs. Caroline Orne,
Miss Anne T. O'ilbor,
Mrs. S. P. Doughty,
Mrs. C- A. IL\YDEN,
Mrs It T Eldredge,
Mrs. E. II. B. ft' ALDo,
etc., etc., etc.
Rev. H. Hastings Weld,
Uexry Wm. Herbert,
T. BccHANAN Head,
r. 6. Artuur,
A. J- H DUGANKE,
EpEs Sargent,
tiEORGE W. DeWF.T,
FRA>C1S a. D0RIVAGE,
Park Benjamin,
Dr. J. V. U. risiiTB,
Bem Pehlet Poore,
etc., etc., etc.
These are hut a few of the names actually
enfjaged upon and now contributing to the Picto-
rial, and we respectfully call the attention of our
readers to the fact, that never was such an array
of literary talent engaged upon any newspaper
establishment in this country. But our aim is
upward and onward, and our readers and sub-
scribers must reap the benefit.
In pursuance of the plan we have sketched
above, we offer the Pictorial at the following
greatly
REDUCED PRICES.
TO CLUBS — INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
1 subscriber, — one year, . . . . S3 00
2 subscribers, " *' 5 00
4 " ""..■... 9 00
8 " " " 16 00
Any names may be added to the last number
at the rate of S2 00 each, per annum.
One copy of the Pictorial and one copy of
the Flag of our Union one year, for S4 00.
Now is the time to form clubs for the New Year.
We hope our readers and postmasters through-
out the country will form clubs at these rates.
The paper will also be for sale at all- the peri-
odical depots throughout the country, and by all
the newsmen, for Six Cents per copy.
Prolific Growth. — The California papers
boast of cornstalks growing to the height of 20
feet in that prolific country of big stories and
gold dust.
QuKRY. — We observed a sign in Washington
Street, the other day,, which read thus : Pardon
W. Chase. Wonder what he's done?
PcTHY. — Theodore Hook says of railroads:
" They annihilate space and time, not to mention
a multitude of passengers."
In this city, by Rev, Phineas Stow, Mr. Samuel L. B.
Black to Miss Martha D. Hopkins. '
By Rev. Mr. Bartol, Dr. John E. Hatherway to Miss
CaroUne A. GafReld.
By Rev. Mr. Kirk, Mr. David T. Stackpole to Miss Ce-
hnda Ply mp ton.
By Itfcv. 5lr. Stone, Mr. Diodate Morgan to Miss A. M.
Cutler, deaf mute3.
At Charlesto^vn, Mr. Frederic Caisburg to Miss Hannah
Dalay.
At Chelsea, Mr. Wm. Henrv Hutchinson to Miss Rosa-
lie M. Bliss.
At Roxbury, by Rev. Mr Alger, Mr. William E. Brown-
ell, of Boston, to Miss Mary R. Norwood.
At Dorchester, Mr. Augustus C. Blake to Miss Tda D.
Woodward.
At Milton, by Rev. Mr Pike, Mr. J. E. Paine, of New
York, to Miss Eliza K Glover.
At West Newton, Mr. Samuel S. Kilbum, Jr., to Miss
Permelia P. Pike.
At Salem, by Itev. Mr Boyden, Mr. Henry P. Fowler to
Miss Phoebe Young, of Augusta. Me,
At Lowell, by Rev. Mr. Moulton, Mr. Edwin Paige to
Miss Jjouisa M. EUiott,
At Gloucester, Mr. Ilenry B. Shute to Miss Adelia
Withers.
At Andover, by George Foster. Esq , Mr. James Jackson
Salkeld to MiPo Marii Maynard.
At South Erooktield, by Rev Mr. Bragg. Mr. Isaac W.
Leach to Miss Oelia R. Caswell, both of Taunton.
At Westmoreland, N. H., by Rev. Stephen Rogers. Mr.
Lewis Webster, of Detroit, to Miss Martha F Dunbar.
In this city, Payson Perrin, Esq. 67: Mr. Richard W.
StatoD,47: Capt. Samuel Kobinson, 68; Mrs. Rliz;i B.
Lane, 56 : Mr. John F. L Btckford, 24 : Mr. John Warren,
42; Mrs Sarah Hannah Boles, 90: Capt. Joseph Burnham,
of Newcastle, Me , 46 ; FrankUn Gertz, youngest son of Mr.
John H. Rilev
At South Boston. Mary Rudolph Brabiner, 11.
At Charlestown, Persis 8 Pooke, 9.
At Roxburv, P. 1. Farnham, E^q., late of Salem, 64.
At Cambridg;eport, Miss Marv Merrian),88.
At Cambridge, Mr. Thomas Dudley, 39.
At Brookiine, Mrs Hiinnah Bartlett. 70.
At Hinsham, Dr, Thomas Barnes, 64.
At Groton. Rev. William Grigg, 66.
At Salem, Mrs. Phebe Saiitb, 60-
At Danvers, Mr. Sullivan Hyde, 79.
At Gloucester, Luov Ann Thurstou. 5.
At Newburyport, Widow Mary Carlton, 75.
At Reboboth, Mr Abiel Bliss. 89.
At Worctst-r, Ann EUzabeth Chapin. 6.
At New Pedford. Mrs. U.-psey B. 'Vordt-Jl, 24.
At Holmes's Hole, Capt. Zenas Dillii.gham. .Jr., 44.
At Portland, Me , Capt Tdoma.'^ Hjinna, 70.
At New Haven, Mr ^:iron E. VV^hit[emore, 44.
At St. Louis. W. C. Roger*, Esq
At Mormon tslnnd, Cal . Sir Henry B Booth. 24.
On board United Stites Receivirg '^i.ip Ohio, at Navy
Yard, Charlestown, Stephen P. Bronn;ll,50.
Lost overboard irom ship Houghtm, Nov. 22, on the
pa-^sage from Liverpool to New York, John Jojes, waman,
— AXD —
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382
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for GIuuhou'h Pictorial.]
THE AKRONAUT.
BY R. CUUTlBlj illNt^, U. ti. N-
Up ! up tliiovigli tho blue flhlntng otUor,
Fly awiiy to the homo of tho suu ;
PuuHu not in thy eiifil«-llko aoaring,
Till thy far lofty journey bo Jon«.
Lilio 11 dim Hpuok, tUi) groon earth bulow thoo,
Ih fiidinij* uway from thy night ;
Ah to rogioiiK unknown thou art flitting)
Whore dwoU tho bloat sjdrits of light 1
■ U|)l up through tho bill", Hhioing othur;
Thou "rt k-aving a world far behindj
■Whoru thure'a sorrow onough in all couscionce,
A land whcro thoro 'b no grief to find 1
Stop not till tTiy mission be ondvd,
What! pauau in thy upward oarcur?
Alas ! thu brave wight baa descunded,
"No country," says ho, " like this 'ere I"
And thus will it bo with him ever,
Wlio seeks a world better to gain ;
Though he soar aloft through the ether,
Or plunge in the futhomless main,
Diflappointment will ever awiiit liitu,
And wht-n ho returna ho will say,
" This earth is a bad one, I grant ye.
But wlicre is a better one, pray?"
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
TRAVELS IN PALESTINE.
No. XVI.
BY REV. P. W. HOLLAND.
BiALBEG AND LEBiNON.
Tn crossing from Damascus to Beiioot, by way
of Baalbcc, a four days' journey, yet but about
seventy miles distant, we received a fearful greet-
ing from old Lebanon. As soon as the vast
panorama of city gardens and groves was hidden
by the intervening ridge of the Hermon range,
which is really a spur of Lebanon, it began to
rain, snow, thunder, hail and blow, until, after
enduring everything and halting two days upon
the route, we reached the snug harbor of Bei-
root. Familiar enough with winter travel at
home, there was slill something entirely new to
me in a fuur days' battle, on horseback, with
fierce mountain-blasts, drenching to the skin,
palsying the limbs, chilling the heart, so that for
hours not a word was spoken,— and then, rest-
ing at night upon the hard earth, in the smoke
of some wretched brush, our wet garments cling-
ing to the skin, the flat mud-roof distilling upon
us something more abundant than dew, a poor
apology for food being the best that could be ob-
tained. Sometimes, too, there was danger ; the
bare i"ocks were often slippery ; the over-fatigued
traveller is never cautious ; the road is not
marked so as to be certainly traced through the
snow. Once I forced the men on when they
pretended it was too foggy to find any path.
Once, too, the horses floundered in a swift
stream, and once the mud was so deep that it
seemed quite impossible for the beasts to get
their limbs out when they were once in. But
a kind Providence took the care of us we could
not of ourselves; and, without one fill, or once
straying from the track, though with some suf-
fering and mucli privation, we found ourselves
again within the embrace of civilization, at the
seaport of S^-ria.
The ascent of Anti-Lebanon was magnificent.
Parting with " Es sham " in some cypress-cov-
ered cemeteries, where fresh flowers bloomed at
many a grave, and where, in the fever-season,
Ijurials take place by hundreds, we skirted along
the Barrady, a fresh, wild, dancing mountain-
torrent, with fine falls, and many a verdant val-
ley wherever a branch of the river unites with
the main stream. These are generally appro-
priated to the culture of silk, one hundred and
ten thousand pounds being still raised annually;
about half of the supply before the introduction
of English cottons. Here are wild glens, ro-
mantic passes, English-looking gardens, apple
and apricot orchards, — a very kind, industrious
and simple-hearted peasanti-y, prospering better,
we thought, than in any other part of S^ria,—
the best cultivators of the soil, we suspect, that
tho Sultan can boast in any part of his domin-
ion. Ain Fijji is the richest valley, with the
largest growth of the mulberry, and abundance
of roses; but, Lebdany, where we laid by to let
the snow-stoim blow over, at the source of the
river which waters all tlie Damascus plain, is an
ex(|uisitc spot ; tlie ro^ds hedged in by luxuri-
ant hawthorn and buckthorn, the orchards in
excellent order, and some of the while houses
looking even romantic. The Paradise of our
lirsL parcnt-i, of which the neighboring tomb of
Adam put us in mind, Bccmed more likely to
have been in some such picturesque valley, than
in the sunburnt and sickly plain, The Moham-
medan family which lodged us here were (luito
as alfectionalG as tho Franciscans at Naz-arcth.
Tho children became even too familiar and
friendly, and were as curious about uh as tho
little Bedouins whom wc took such pains to
amuse. At night, parents and children lay
down together, a few feet from us, upon well-
wadded coverlets, in the same dresses which
they had worn through the day. In the morn-
ing they had but to open their eyes to he ready
for the breakfast.
Baalbcc, a half-ruined, half- Christ! an village,
once the stately " city of the Sun," then rejoicing
in a magnificent temple of Jupiter, under Julius
Caisar, the " lieliopolis " fortress, the most
splendid of Syrian towns at the time of the Mos-
lem conquest, gave us a mockery of shelter and
no food, in the ancient Greek convent, itself a
ruin. Long before reaching it, indeed, upon en-
tering the valley of the Bekaa, which separates
Anti-Lebanon from the loftier Lebanon, " the
glory of Baalbec" towers up over the battle-
mentcd walls of a deserted fort. This glory
consists of six lofry columns inside of the en-
closure, upon a platform one thousand feet long
and seven hundred broad, all of hewn stones,
three of which lying together measure one hun-
dred and eighty feet, called the "hill of Baal-
bee." On the outside stand six lesser, but still
superb pillars, as if mourners over a confused
mass of broken shafts, capitals and bases, fruits,
apparently, of some earthquake shock.
The principal parts of this famous temple of
the earliest idolatry are a Saracen mosque, com-
paratively modern, provided with port holes for
defence, and bomb-proof magazines beneath ; an
elegant temple, with fourteen columns on either
side, bearing the name of the Sun, and an eagle,
the genuine object of the worship, which must
be guessed, as it cannot be seen on the huge
carved keystone over the door, which seems to
hang but by a thread, and to be just ready to
crush the profane intruder at his first footfall ;
then, a partly circular and very extensive temple
containing shrines for all the gods, superbly
carved with Medusa heads and sea-shells, in too
rich a style, with a private place for the priests.
What some name "the Forum," must have been
the outer court, dedicated to the same purposes
as the " Court of the Gentiles" at Jerusalem,
perhaps for some more august ceremony, per-
haps for the pious meditations of the devotees.
The Mosque, Pantheon, Temple of Baal and
open Court make hut a single whole, who-^e ef-
fect is greatly impaired by the fortress, which
completely shuts in the Acropolis-like summit.
Of course such delicate Corinthian work cannot
be the oldest shrine, erected before Palmyra had
its temples or Judaism its Sinai commandments.
The most ancient part of Karnack is rudeness
itself; and probably those monstrous stones, ar-
ranged now for military purposes in the outer
wall, were cut and laid by unknown artists in
more primitive structures, for the honor of the
god of day. Isis and Horus are often traced
among the caivings.
Near by is a little gem, a circular shrine, hav-
ing an outside wall of the richest columns,
carved with the same superfluous ornament as
those of the great temple, and far more decayed
and injured than the principal sti'ucture.
The temple quarry is not far distant, A sin-
gle stone still lies there, nearly ready to be
moved, of a size surpassing most of those which
are so justly admired in Egypt, It is sixty eight
feet long, eighteen feet wide and nearly square.
It is a wonder how such stones were ever raised
so high as they aie found at Baalbec, before our
machinery was known. But we may as well
own at once, that it is not possible for us to im-
agine how the ancients tran ■sported so vast
masses over such distances, and raised them to
such heights as we find throughout Egypt, and
here at Baalbec. Far out in the plain was a
little oratory, built evidently of spoils from other
buildings, tasttless, roofless and deserted.
From this decaying village, no longer refresh-
ing the traveller, as of old, with fruits and viands,
to the Christian town of Zaahly, was nearly a
day. The ferule and beautiful plain of the
Bckaa, and the river Lcontes (now Litany), had
to be crossed, through deep mud and swollen
waters — then came, after a scramble over wild
mountains, the extensive nurseries, well-tilled
gaidens and widely' scattered homes of these
Syrian Swiss. Zaahly took us by surprise. It
presents a beautiful appearance from a distance,
has a large population lur such a niouutaiu
place, boasts of numerous schools under the
charge of Jesuita, and no little business. Had
travellers been more in the habit of passing this
way, one of the most ])rospcrouH plattes in Syria
would not have remained so nearly unknown.
It certainly outshines Damascus in streams,
groves and gardens, and from its lofty position
has beauties of its own, with which no mere
plain can compare, besides being the healthiest
collection of fifteen tliou^and people in all the
east. Its four Christian churches have each
their bell, an almost unknown indulgence in any
part of Turkey ; even in the European houses
at Damascus, the servants were commonly sum-
moned by clapping of the hands. Our pretty
hostess assured me that the taxes were very
light, and she had many a rich shawl and golden
trinket to exhibit.
The famous cedars of Lebanon we were ob-
liged to give up; nine-tenths of the year they
are quite inaccessible because of the snow, and
are only approached with any comfort during
the month of June. There is but a single patch
of them, up near the limit of perpetual snow, a
dozen of the oldest of which are called by the
Christians, " saints," and by the Moslems, " god-
trees." Lebanon itself is not a hill, so much as
a country, inhabited towards the sea by brave
and hardy mountaineers, in numerous villages,
who, Ity the improvement of every inch of soil
and by the laborious construction of terraces,
raise all the comforts of life, particularly the fa-
mous " wine of gold," a delicious yet very sim-
ple beverage.
But we were to know nothing of this lime-
stone-range, called "White'* or Lebanon, per-
haps from its color, except its winter-frown.
The Baalbec monk had prayed for good weather
for travellers; the prayer of the lazy beggar
mnst have worked by contraries, for we were
swept along in a storm, which howled through
the mountain-gorge as if it would hurl old Leba-
non down upon us, and gave us some ideas of
sublimity, which we would gladly have spared.
It will hardly be credited that the best road
from the capital of Syria to its principal seaport
is, a great portion of it, no easier than the worst
ascent of the " White Hills," — a narrow mule-
path, over heaped-up rocks, with nothing like a
wall to guard from the precipice, no convenien-
ces for passing a loaded caravan, no resting
places better than Turkish khans for most of
the way. The English consul, who is often
called the " Pasha of Damascus," is urging the
government to open a road over this most im-
portant route. The whole world certainly would
be benefited by a grand improvement like this,
bringing Damascus within a day of the Mediter-
ranean, pouring its silks and fruits into Europe,
and taking in turn the cottons and woollens,
the necessaries and comforts of the rest of the
world.
To one that rejoices as I do in the growing
brotherhood of nations, who feels that the pro-
gress of humanity is certain, even when it seems
most retarded, it is more than a hope that this
earliest seat of the human race may yet be as
richly blest as the latest home of civilization
upon our own shores, that a fostei'ing hand may
by-and-by be extended from the New World to
the Old, that the mouldering tombstone of Mo-
hammedanism may be lifted off from the still
live £oul of Syria, and a buried nationality rise
up, only second in beauty to that when the Cre-
ator breathed " let there be light," and life and
blessedness sprang into being at a word.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
SYMPATHY.
Br MRS. a. T. ELDRED6E.
Sweet and ever fragrant flower,
Glowing in the feeling heart ;
Bursting forth in sorrow's hour.
Shedding balm for soitow's .smiirt;
Never leave my heart, 0, never,
I will hold thee as my friend;
Time and change fond ties may sever,
Hope's thy motto to the end I
In my heart thy growth I'll nurture,
Weary hours thy sweets Le^uile ;
Tainting forth a brighter future
For each sonow-strickcn child I
Firm I'll plant thee in my bosom,
Usher forth at sorrow's call ;
Ever fragrant are thy blosdouiu.
Yielding sweets for one and ail !
It is a base temper in mankind that they will
not take the smallest slight at the hand of iho&e
who liavc done them the greatest kindness.
[Written for 01ea«on'M Pictorial.)
FASHION.
BY MUB. E. WELLMONT.
Fashion ih fast taking from u» our rights.
One may be a little amused to see how wc arc
led to bow as instinctively to her demands, as
though a law imposed a penalty for our viola-
tion. Mr, Pitts had a new hat some two yeard
since; he had kept it merely for "great occa-
sions" the first year, and the last one jt has
been an every day article. He calculated wear-
ing it one year more — for he is a prudent man
— but that little dandy over the way attacked
him thcotiier morning upon its pcnJiamti/le, and
Pitts's children joined him, and almost persuad-
ed the man the nap was all gone from the edges,
and the crown had turned red. Pitts said he
hated to be out of fashion, and so forthwith, the
old comfortable beaver, just as good as new, was
sold for seventy-five cents, by way of exi-hange,
and a new one of " Genin's best " mounted forth-
with. Now it is not so much matter in the case
of Pitts, because he can afford it; but it ilocs
drag hard upon the Widow Brown and her five
daughters, who have a bare competency with
strict economy. Mrs. Brown's daughters all had,
new cloaks last winter — good, comfortable gar-
ments. They were cut with yoke necks ; now
the fashion has changed, and the girls demand
to have those cloaks transformed into fashionable
capes — and strange to say, the mother complied,
for she wanted her children to be fashionably
dressed. These capes required a lassel behind;
tassels varied in style and prices, but the young
ladies, of course, desired the richest, and so five
dollars were paid for five tassels to the sacks!
At this very time, Mrs. Brown told a friend she
did need a barrel of fiour, but had not the money
just then to buy one.
IVIr. Gill consulted with his tailoress and found
he could have his overcoat repaired to look
nearly as well as new; but she inadvertently
dropped that it was not cut in the present mode,
whereupon all his determination to have it re-
paired vanished. He dismissed his tailoress,
told her he supposed "he might as well get a
fashionable garment, and done with it."
Mi's. Jones had been uneasy for sometime
past to secure a pew on the lower floor in the
broad aisle of the church. Mr. Jones insisted
upon keeping the old one, affirming he could
hear just as well, the taxes were much lighter,
and some of the best of the congregation sur-
rounded them. But the good woman was not
to be put off in that way ; she knew the most
fashionable people sat there, and she wanted to
be in proximity — for she would be devout, and
still know just what her neighbors wore !
Bytes, the landlord of many stores, told me
the demand for plate ghiss of enormous size had
become so common, that in fixing his tenants up
fashionably, all his income was nearly expended.
Now, having sufficiently berated the good old
dame Eashion, it is but fair she should tell her
story. Speaking of hats — " Why," said she,
"more than ten thousand journeymen would be
turned out of employ, were all the beavers of
the same identical finish and style. Do I not,
therefore, give bread to the families of such?
As to the tassels that swing behind the Brown
children's capes, why the people engaged in
manufacturing such articles are named legion.
With their earnings they support whole families,
decrepid parents and crippled children. As to
overcoats, why Gill would become so selfish in
pocketing his dividends, did not I urge my claim,
that nobody would be benefited by his money.
And so on to the end of the chapter." The
camel's hair shawl which cost a thousand dol-
lars, and the India seaif for which one hundred
wa5 paid, only take from the coffers of the rich
man to be placed in the hands of dependent ven-
ders of the same. All the trouble lies in keeping
icitkin one's mtans. We should keep an eye to
signing mortgages and surrendering rights for
the sake of gratifying our love of show ; but good
sense will always regulate sound heads in these
matters.
Humanity will direct us lo be particularly
cautious of treating with the least appearance of
neglect, those who have lately met with misfor-
tums, and arc sunk in life. Such persons are
apt to think themselves slighted, when no such
thing is intended. Their minds being already
sore, feel the least rub very severely. And who
would be so cruel as lo add affliction to the
afilicted ?
Far better one nnpuviihuHod hrait,
'liiau glor> 'e pioudubt nuino. — Tut/cernicui.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DUAWING ROOM COMPANION.
383
3IATR010NY IN RUSSIA.
On Whitsuntide afternoon, there are now to
be seen in the summer gardens of St. Petersburg
the daughters of the middling class, ranged in
long vows, dressed in their best, and often be-
decked with costly jewels. Matrimoniji?. the ob-
ject of the displa3^ Young bachelors walk up
and down the line of damsels, critically inspect-
ing them as they pass. Should their eye indi-
cate that they have made a choice, a matchmak-
ing friend of the young lady steps out of the
rear rank, joins the would-be -wooer, informing
him of the girl's circumstances, of her family,
dowry, of her housewifely qualities, etc., and ob-
tains from him similar information concerning
himself. Should they come to an understanding,
the matchmaker conducts her candidate to the
mother, who introduces him to ber daughter, in-
vites him to her house, and a wedding is the
most usual result of the acquaintance thus com-
menced. Some may smile at this fact, but the
cynical will declare that the custom is in reality
by no means peculiar to Kussia.
IRON HOUSES.
The New York Express says iron houses are
no longer a novelty. The}-- are an every-day
atfair ; but one of the most substantial specimens
of that species of architecture is the warehouse
just commenced iu Beekman Street, next to St.
George's Chapel. It is all iron, " from turret to
foundation stones," with the single exception of
the floor timbers of the first and second stories,
so that destruction by fire may well be consider-
ed a physical impossibility.
Extreme Age. — There is an old man in Bel-
grade, on the frontiers of Turkey, who has at-
tained the enormous age of one hundred and
seventy-two years. He is still in possession of
all his faculties, and smokes his pipe regularly.
Eifty years ago he used to go out hunting with
his great grandson, and it is not quite one hun-
dred years since he made his third marriage witli
a young girl aged nineteen, whom he has out-
lived by forty years.
DELA-WARii College — The jiftij ihousand
dollars for the endowment of Delaware College,
has all been subscribed, and mainly in Delaware
itself. This is noble and worthy of the patri-
otic little State. A Professorship of Agricul-
ture has been endowed, and will go into opera-
tion the present winter. This is as it should be.
Students have long learned ivords — it is time
they should be taught ihliujs.
Annexation of Cuba. — Mr. Walbridge,
member of Congress elect from ihe Third Con-
gressional District, New York, has issued an ad-
dress to his constituents, in which he says that
he regards his election as an expression in favor
of incorporating " the beautiful island of the An-
tilles " within the limits of our government as
soon as it can constitutionally be done without
violence to existing treaties.
Practising. — The artillery in Quebec now
practise ball-firing, frequently along the surface
of the water, and it seems this will be continued
as a large quantity of gunpowder has been al-
lowed them this year for the purpose. It is also
stated that several heavy pieces of ordnance have
been lately placed on the fortifications. These
preparations seem to portend something.
New Character. — Lord Hardy was so much
addicted to the bottle as to be always under the
influence of liquor. Previous to a masquerade
night, he inquired of Eoote what new character
be ought to appear in. "New character"?" said
the other. " Suppose you go sober, my lord V
He took the hmt of the comedian, and actually
reformed.
Modest. — The editor of a village newspaper,
somewhere in Pennsylvania, we believe, pub-
lishes his o(vn marriage with somebody whom
he leaves blank, as she doesn't like to see her
name in the newspapers.
Premium. — At the Oneida Agricultural Pair,
John C. Hastings received a premium of Si, for
half a peck of Maiden's Blush — apples.
Modesty. — A beautiful flower, that flourishes
only in secret places.
Too true ! — When a dog is drowning, every
one offers him a drink.
illagsibf ©atljerings.
Women should rule, but not govern.
Banvard, the ai-tist, has arrived in New York
from Europe.
The Lake Shore Railroad from Buffalo to
Cleveland is complete.
A Mr. Chapman, of Maryland, owns a Po-
land hen which has laid 70 eggs since August.
Propeller Oneida has been passed bottom up
on Lake Eric. All on board, 17 in all, perished.
It is said, that the President elect receives two
bushels of letters per day, containing applica-
tions for office.
In Cincinnati it is estimated that there are
$10,920 000 of capital employed in the clothing
business.
The number of midshipmen and acting mid-
shipmen at present at the Naval Institution in
Annapolis, is- about 120.
Four brothers, Daniel, Edward, Carroll and
Wm. Keane, have been arrested in Wayne coun-
ty, 111., for robbing the mail.
John Van Burcn has been to see Gen. Pierce
since the election, and the political jom'uals have
commenced gossiping thereon.
John Koshal liad both his arms shot off at
Bethlehem, Pa., a short time since, by the pre-
mature discharge of a cannon.
A man in Cincinnati the other day married a
dumb woman weighing three hundred and sixty
lbs. Peace and plenty, wi[h a vengeance.
Every State in the Union has now sent on its
block of stone or marble for the monument to
the memory of Washington.
A woman named Margaret Miller was shot by
an insane man while on her way to market, in
Philadelphia, on Wednesday morning last.
A boat containing 20 laboring men, was ran
down recently in the harbor of St. John, N. B.,
by a steam ferry boat, and 13 of them drowned.
Ten thousand pounds of buffalo tallow ar-
rived at St. Louis the other day from the Far
West, done up in the hides of the animals.
A n:ian in Middlesex county was last week
fined eighty odd dollars and costs for poisoning
his neighbor's hens. Served him right.
Seldon Gibson, master of brig J. Marshall,
died at Savannah, Ga., a few days since, after a
brief illness. His wife and family are residents
of Bath, Me.
The steamer Buckeye Belle exploded her boil-
er in Beverly Lock, near Marietta, Ohio, on
Friday night, killing 15 persons and severely
wounding several others.
Samuel Byrne was arrested at Baltimore on
Wednesday week, on charge of kidnapping a
free colored woman, whom he brought from Vir-
ginia, and sold as a slave.
In California ladies may advertise their inten-
tion to carry on business independent of their
husbands, which legally exonerates them from
liability for their debts.
Winter is at hand with its brilliant pleasures
and piercing sufferings. Let those who enjoy
the foiTner, endeavor to mitigate the latter among
the destitute and afflicted.
At Cincinnati they opened a bale of cotton
and found the body of a negro pressed into it.
So great was the pressure that the body of the
man was not more than three inches thick.
The flour and grain traders of New York have
formed an exchange association, and now num-
ber .350 persons. They embrace all the principal
traders in these articles in the city.
The railroad through Broadway, New York,
is looked upon as a fixed fact, the committee of
the board of Aldermen, to whom the matter was
referred, having reported strongly in its favor.
A farmer in Canton, Mass., has a cranberry
meadow of twelve acres, from which he has
raised, the presenD season, upwards of one thou-
sand bushels of fine cranberries, for which he
has realized $3000 each.
Frater Johannes Drabicius, in his book, De
C(.do et Cihlfstl Sktlii, printed at jMcntz, 1718,
employs 425 f>ages to prove ihat the emplov-
ment of the blest in heaven will be the continual
ringing of bells !
It is recorded in tlie Norway, Me., Advertiser,
that a bear has be^n captured in Vork county,
in that State, which weighed, when drt-ssed 360
pounds, and that over 60 pounds of leaf or rough
fat was taken our uf him.
The most extensive coal field in the world
commences near CaiTolton, Kentucky, and runs
north, through Indiana, Illinois and Iowa, con-
taining about 80,000 square mihs, of which a
tenth part, or SOOO miles are in Indiana.
It is estimated that forty thousand persons,
eight hundred wagons and sixty rhousand cattle,
crossed the pUins, going to Califurnia this year,
and it is said that parts of the route are sticwed
with graves and human bones.
Two women in St. Louis recentlv assaulted a
man with cowhides. Thtir husbands had in-
tended to inflict the casiigation. but had been
bound over in heavy penalty to keep the peace,
wherefore the wives took up the matter and car-
ried it through.
A lad named Patrick O'Rourke, fell from a
free in Bridgeport, Ct., and was kilkd. His fa-
ther took his loss so much to heart that he be-
came deranged, and cut down the tree in the
vain hope of finding his son. After it bad fallen
the poor man searched in the branches, calling
fur " Patrick."
JToreign jUigaUang.
The Prince de Lucklenberg died at St. Peters-
burg on the 25th of October.
Late advices from Turks Island represent that
the cholera is abating.
The government has made an offer to pur-
chase the Journal Des Debats, with the view of
getting rid of its influence.
A late traveller in Italy says that the back
streets of Rome are paved with dead dogs, old
boots and oyster shells.
Lord de Blaquiere challenges all the world,
" America excepted/' to produce a yacht equal in
speed to his famous yacht America.
A line of powerful screw-steamers is about
to commence running between England and
Australia.
A letter from Malta states that six political
prisoners were shot at Linigaglia, af:er an im-
prisonment of nearly four years. Among them
was Col. Simondelli.
A severe shock of an earthquake had been felt
at Malaga, which shook all the edifices and
caused great consternation ; many families had
taken refuge on board the vessels in the harbor.
Despatches from Prague announce that the
Emperor of Austria has had an attack of epilep-
tic apoplexy, and that he has received the last
sacrament.
The Paris journals announce that M. Vallee,
one of the officials of the Jardin des Plantcs, has
succeeded in hatching a turtle by artificial
means.
The deaths from explosions in the British
coal mines, now average one thousand annually.
The Davy safety lamp, it is said, cannot be de-
pended on.
The commissioners of the late World's Fair
have purchased, with the surplus funds of the
exhibition, a plot of ground near Kensington,
which they intend to present to the nation as a
site for a new National Gallery of Art.
Louis Napoleon is declared Emperor, under
the title of Napoleon III. The imperial dignity
is made hereditary in the direct descent of the
Emperor, and regulates the order of succession
to the throne in the Bonaparte family.
The Russian and Prussian Ministers have re-
ceived sudden orders from their governments no
longer to absent themselves from their posts at
Paris, and M. Castlebeiac has in like manner
been ordered immediately to return to St. Pe-
tersburg. The quidnuncs are trying to worm
some diplomatic secret out of these hasty move-
ments.
JJoker's ISubget.
Sanbs of ©olb.
Economy itself is a great income.
.... Boast not, for discerning folks will think
you a fool.
.... A distinguished teacher defines genius
to be the power of making effort.
.... Every time you avoid doing wrong, you
increase your inclination to do right.
.... A dull day and an empty pocket, and
being in love, affect a man's spirits most
seriously.
.... In matters of conscience, first thoughts
are best; in matters of prudence, last thoughts
are best.
.... God hath given to mankind a common
library — his works ; and to every man a book —
himself.
The cure of all the ills and wrongs, the
cares and sorrows, and the crimes of humanity,
lies in that one word, Love !
Truth — the open, bold, honest truth — is
always the wisest, always the safest, for every
one, in any and all circumstances.
.... There would be very few dinner parties
if the rule were once made, only to in\itc those
to dinner who really were in want of one !
.... There is no occasion to trample upon
the meanest reptile, nor to sneak to the greatest
prince. Insolence and baseness are equally
unmanly.
.... Sympathy constitutes friendship, but in
love there is a sort of antipathy, or opposing
passion. Each strives to be the other, and both
together make up one whole.
.... If you have a friend that will reprove
your faults and foibles, consider you enjoy a
blessing which the President of the United States
cannot have.
.... If you mean to make your side of the
argument appear plausible, do not prr-judice
people against what you think truth, by your
passionate manner of defending it.
.... There is hardly any bodily blemish
which a winning behaviour will not conceal, or
make tolerable ; and there is no external grace
which ill-nature or affectation will not deform.
learning will make j on .acceptable
to the learned ; but it is only an easy and oblig-
ing beha^'iour, and entertaining conversation, that
will make you agreeable in all companies.
.... Nothing is more nauseous than apparent
self-sufficiency. For it shows the company two
things which are extremely disagreeable : That
you have a high opinion of yourself, and that
yon have comparatively a mean opinion of"
them.
There is said to be a girl somewhere in New
England whose heart was so warm that it burnt
through her bosom.
Advice is like a policeman, often to be met
with when not wanted ; but when really wanted,
never to be found.
Winchell says the people of Alabama are so
hard run for eggs, that they have to set their
turkeys on Carolina potatoes.
There is a fellow in California so extravagant
that he kindles the fire with bank-notes, and
skates on ice cream.
A gentleman who could not trust to his mem-
ory, wrote in his pocket book : " I must go and
get married wlien I get to town."
A funny chap recently entered an ivory tur-
ner's shop, and asked if any one about the estab-
lishment knew how to " turn an honest penny."
" Can you read smoke, ma V " What do you
mean, child'?" "Why, I've heard some men
talk about a volume of smoke, and I thought
you could read anything in a volume."
Dow, Jr., says : Sleeping in church is always
tolerated in a land of religious liberty, but loud
snoring is a nuisance to the more quiet and re-
spectable sleepers.
An Irish doctor, we are told, advertised that
persons alflicted with deafness might hear of him
in a house in Liffey Street, where also blind per- .
sons might see him daily from three till ten''
o'clock.
The ordinary mode of churning butter in Chili
is to put the milk in a skin — usually a dog's
skin — tie it on a donkey. Mount a boy on
him with rowels in his spurs about the length of
the animal's ears, and then run him four mile
heats.
" Say, w here'd you get yer peaches 1" " Why,
mother's in the business, and imports them her-
self; and nobody wont buy now, cos they're
afeard of the molcra chorbus, so I have to eat
'em. It's hard work, but I dus it to help moth-
er, and filial 'fectiou, you know, will make a
feller do a great deal !"
VOLUMES 1st & Sd.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the Piotobial Drawiho
Room Companion elegantly bound in cloth, ivith gilt edges
and back, and illumined .sides, forming a superb and mOot
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book, of
Botweer Foot and I'ive Hundred Pages,
AND CONTAINING KEARLT
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad ; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ILLmilNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilliant fi-ontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustrations, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketches, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a current
News llecord of the times ; altogether forming an eiceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrationii.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for jHiree Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR U^^'IOX,
AN ELEGA.NT, -MUil.VL AND lUIt'IN'El)
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, ■wit and humor, prope and
puetic gems, jtaJ original prize tale.s, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. lu politics, and on
Jill sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothin"- of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its coluiuns j
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEU POK THE MILLIOK,
AND A IVELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
hniiins; u-ttkli/ iKipcr in the United Stairs^ and its literary
contents are ailowed, by the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. Xo advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the eutire sheet, which is of
THE 3IAMM0TH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the \vill. we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers aa
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO STTBSCRIBERS.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 subscribers, " ,^ 5 00
4 '• " 6 OO
8 " " ir 00
16 " " 20 00
One copy of the FuG ov ouft Union, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawing-IIoom ComeajsioNj one year, for So 00.
[tlT^ Invaluably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters arc requested to act as agents,
and foi-m clubs, ou the above terms.
0=- AH oriltrs should he addressed, post paid, to tli£
Publisher of the Fl.\.g of oub Union.
*,* The Flag can he obtained at any of the newspaper
Jrpats in the United Slates, and of iiewspaper earners^ at
Four CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON.
Pdslisheh and Proprietor, Eosion, Mass-
.381
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DllAAVIXG KOOM CX)MPANI()N.
THE ItLAC'K MARIA.
Our artist litis f^tvcn us herewith a cliararteri.i-
tic picture of what is termed tlio " IJhu'k Maria,"
or, in other words, the vehielo whii^h runs hc-
twecn tlie i-ourt house and the prisons with such
freip:ht as mif^ht be supposed to require tnuispor-
tation between thewc two very ominous points of
the city. The very phi/si(/iu; of the *' Ulaek Ma-
rin" U repulsive, apart from the refinements of
mere association. What is it — u coftin, rudo
but gipantic, travelling to and fro, between the
undertaker and the sexton { Why i-i it that the
eye fails to penetrate its dark recesses V No
"sashes " ailorn thi; person of the " Black Ma-
ria.", Unlike all other vehicles, it has no aper-
tures for li^bt and air. save those openings be-
neath the roof, from which a hafrp;ard and uneasy
glance flashes forth at intervals, or from which
protrudes a hand wavin^r, as it were, a last fare-
well 10 all that pves dclip;ht to existence. Stern-
ly and rit^idly sits the ^'uaid in the rearward
chamlicr, and beyond him is a door heavy with
steel. It is no pleasure carriage then — it is not
used as a means of recreation, nor as a free-will
conveyance, travelHiifj; at the pnidanco of those
who rest within. No ; they who take seats in
the "Black Maria" feel no honor in the eleva-
tion— they rid ) neither for health nor amuse-
ment. They neither say " drive on," nor desig-
nate the place of destination. If it were left to
them, they would, in all likelihood, ask to be
taken another way, and they would sooner trot
on foot forever, thun to be thus raised above
contact with mud and mire. They are not im-
patient cither — they make no olijection to the
slowness of the \xai(. In short, they would like
to get out and dismiss all cumbrous pomp and
ceremonious attendance. But there are bars be-
tween— yes, bolts and bars, and there is nothing
of complaisance on the brow of him who has
these iron fastenings at control. Polite requests
would be unheeded, and he has heard the curses
of despair, the sobs of remorse, and the bitter
wailings of heart-broken wretchedness too often
to be much moved by solicitations of this sort.
The "Black Maria" is a vehicle peculiar to
cities. Boston has a most ominous looking one,
and our ar.ist, Mr. Devercux, has copied that of
Philadelphia. Heaven send that no friend of
ours ever gets a ride gratis in such an omnibus
of sin and misery. No wonder, then, that the
lower classes look upon the "Black Maria" as
a ghostly affair, and seem almost to hold their
breath while it passes. It is a significant token
to rogues and suspected characters. A sort of
silent monitor, frowning and grim, admonishing
of the result of crime.
BLACE: MARIA THE PRISONER S OWN OMNIBUS.
BEACOIV HILL REHERVOIR.
The moht costly distributing reservoir belong-
ing to the Boston Water Works, and containing
the depOHit of f'ochituiitc wiiter, oh brought to
town through miles of immense iron pipes, is
crcr'ted on the spot formerly known as Beacon
Hill, one of t'>c trimountains of Boston. This
work is an immense Btructurc, almost fahulouBly
Hirong and costly, and answers admirably the
purpose for which it was designed. The foun-
dation is more than seventy feet below the former
elevation of the hill. The reservoir is built of
granite laid in hydiaulie cement, and for com-
pleteness of the mason work is a perfect model.
Our artist, Mr. Warren, has given us a very ex-
cellent view of the spot, and those of the readers
of the Pictorial who reside in this vicinity should
visit the place and judge for themselves. The
reservoir is hounded on Derne street 190 feet 3
inches, 200 feet 5 inches on rear of Mt. Vemon
street, 191 feet 7 inches on Hr.ncock street, and
182 feet 11 inches on Temple street ; the highest
part is 58 feet 'J inches above the street. The
basin is 1,') feet 8 inches deep, supported on
arches of granite, containing 2,078,961 gallouN
of water, which was first let in October 14, 1848.
The cost of this immense work was $509,010 31,
as it appears by the architect's statistics. As is
the introduction of Croton water to New York,
and also of the Schuylkill through the works at
Fairmount to Philadelphia, so is the introduc-
tion of Cochituate water to Boston a. most un-
questionable good — one calculated to be shared
by every class, and the benefits of which must
descend to our children and our children'.? chil-
dren. At first when the stupendous plan was
proposed, it found few advocates; people looked
upon the object as one of fabulous propriety, and
the estimate of cost was eufificient to frighten
nearly any one ; but who is there to-day that
does not rejoice in the completion and perfection
of the works ? The large and splendid reservoir
represented below by our artist is only one of
many stupendous structures necessarily connect- ,
ed with the Boston water works, but this, situ-
ated as it is in the very heart of the ciiy, is doubt-
less one of the most interesting. As you pass
its lofty and massive walls, with the towering
battlement finish ujion their summits, you seem
to forget that you are in Yankee land, and to
recall the ancient works of Rome and the East,
for a Pyramid planted in the same place would
hardly loom up more imposingly than does this
magnificent Beacon Hilt Reservoir. Strangers
are particularly struck with it, and many people
come from a distance to see and examine bo
great a curiosity.
BEACON HILL RESERVOIR, ON DERNE, HANCOCK AND TEMPLE STREETS, BOSTON, MASS.
Fm 1? 1 Qnxr f cornek bromfield
. WilJiAOUiM , i AND TREMONT aT3.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1852
%''£l ISJ-c^T 1 Vol. m. No. 25 -Whole No. 77.
THE NEW MUSIC HALL.
The splendid new Music Hall of Boston is
an ornament to our city, and is probably unsur-
passed for architectural excellence and beauty in
this country. In a former number of the Picto-
iial we have given its principal dimensions and
below our artist, Mr. "Rowse, gives us a very cor-
rect and excellent interior view, taken facing the
stage from the rear of the audience. It is truly
superb, vast and magnificent in design, and com-
pletely successful in execution, exhibiting genius
in the'conception and great piactical skill in the
mechanical details. It has two tiers of light work. The seats are stuffed, with backs and
galleries on the sides, with room only for three arm rests, and covered with blue and white fig-
rows of seats, with two galleries on the end more ured moreen, each seat being numbered. The
spacious. On the opposite end is a space for a interior is brilliantly lighted by a flood of gas
large orchestra and an organ, which is entirely from above, around the cornices, and the effect
hidden from the audience behind elegant lattice upon the audience is very remarkable
INTERIOR VIEW OF THE NEW MUSIC HALLj BOSTON.
38G
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWINCx ROOM COMPANION.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by F. Gleason, in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Massacliusetts.
[WEITTBN BXPKESSLT TOK GLEASOn'S PIOTOHIAL.]
lAllLili
THE SIGN OF THE MYSTIC TIE.
A Tale of the C<amp and Court of Bonaparte.
[CONCHTDED. ]
CHAPTER XIS— [CONTINUED.]
Making him a hurried sign to be quiet, Os-
mnnli said, "Aha, count! I was just looking
for you, but these good citizens have hunted you
out." Then ordering a trooper to dismount, he
had the prisoner placed on his horse, with strict
insti-uctions to kill him if he attempted to escape.
This pleased the crowd much, and as the troop-
ers trotted off" to their barracks, they were salu-
ted with loud cries of "Long live Bonaparte !"
" Long live the consid's guard !"
The instant the squadron was within the bar-
rack-walls, Osraanli ordered the prisoner to be
conducted to his own room, where he soon joined
him.
"Pardon me, count," he saidj as he entered,
*' for the unceremonious manner in which I have
treated you. But — "
"But you have saved my life, my generous
friend. God reward you. I can even now feel
their ferocious blows, and imagine myself upon
the verge of the grave. Let me but once get out
of France, and her people may elect their own
politics. I shall not attempt to play the con-
spirator again. But will I not involve you, my
generous friend"?"
"Nay, nay!" replied Osmanli. "And if you
did, I am repaying a debt. I shall see the tirst
consul this very evening, and think I can obtain
your pardon. Meanwhile my servant will aid
you in changing your apparel. Adieu."
Late that night a post-carriage started from
the barracks of the guard, carrying the Count de
Vergennes, with a passport as bearer of de-
spatches to the Prussian government. Osmanli,
iinding General Bonaparte in excellent spirits at
the dinner-table, and above all delighted with his
new regiment of guards, narrated their first ex-
ploit. Bonaparte was delighted. " Let me but
rule Prance a few years, though," said he, " and
this mob will behave differently. But your friend
is free, and I "will send him across the frontiers.
Tell him that I respect men, although I oppose
some principles."
Osmanli left soon after dinner, to prepare for
his friend's departure ; but Judith expressed so
much interest in the matter, that he did not re-
gret having relinquished a cherished project. In
his dreams, however, he knelt at lier feet, and
told his love. Nor, when the reveille awoke
him, was he certain for a few moments whether
he was an accepted suitor or not.
" Well," he muttered to himself, as he de_
scended the barrack staircase, " a few days more
will decide my fate,"
CHAPTER XX.
A BRIGHT AND JOYOUS CONSUMMATION.
Ten days after the display chronicled in tlie
preceding chapter, General Bonaparte took pos-
session of the Tuileries palace, where tlie old
Bourbon kings had lived for centuries. The
procession was not a brilliant one, except in
military pomp, but the Parisians tilled the streets
through which it passed. No sooner did Bona-
parte enter his carriage, than the air seemed to be
rent with a thunderburst of joyful cheering, that
came reverberating back upon the utterers, and
appeared, as the cortege proceeded, to increase
in fervor and in strength. Arrived at the pal-
ace, Bonaparte left his carriage, vaulted on
horseback, and reviewed the troops ; after which
the whole force defiled before him, as he sat on
his charger, before the massive portals of the
noble edifice. Around him were his generals
and staif officers, " every one of whom had been
in more battles than he numbered years;" nor was
there a more gallant cavalier on the ground than
Osmanli, whose squadron, as it passed in review,
elicited loud encomiums. Last in the brilliant
columns came three brigades which had served
in Italy and in Egypt, and whose colors were
mere shreds of tattered silk, rent by bullets, and
blackened in the smoke. As they were carried
past Bonaparte, he took off his hat, and saluted
them with a profound reverence. Shouts re-
sounded through the air, and, ere they had ended,
the dauntless general threw himself from his
horse, entered the palace, and installed himself
in the home of the monarchs of Pianee.
A magnificent dinner followed, but Osmanli,
who was among the guests, longed for the close
of its details. At length every course was dis-
posed of, and then the entire party repaired to
the saloon. Here, for the first time since the
death of her father, Osmanli found himself alone
with Judith; but neither of them could converse
on the ordinary topics. Their hearts were too
full, and it was not until they had strolled out
upon a balcony overlooking the gardens, that
the young soldier found words.
" Judith," said he, " can you listen to me ';"
And as he gazed earnestly on her classical fea-
tures, pure as the moonbeams which shone on
them, she seemed more bewitching than ever.
She did not speak, for conflicting emotions stir-
red her heart, but a deep sob convulsed her form,
and her eyes glistened with emotion. To Os-
manli, these tears fell like the dew of heaven,
and, with the enthusiasm of poetic inspiration,
he unburdened his soul.
" The bright blush of shame mantles my
check," he exclaimed, "as I think how I was
beguiled from your influence ; but never, upon
my honor, never have I ceased to love you.
Wlien grief has oppressed jne, or when joy's
bright smile has illuminated my existence — when
my fondest hopes have been crushed, or when.
bright dreams have inspired my heart — your
image has been my idol, and every pure thought
has been mingled with your name. Forgive
me ! Gladden my heart by some encouragement
that I may, when I have proven my worthiness,
call yoa mine own. Let our lives mingle their
currents, and let me, as your protector, replace
yottr father's loss."
There was no reply, for the agitated girl could
not speak. But Osmanli took courage from the
'eloquent encouragement of her eyes, those tele-
graphs of love, whose bright glances convey
liopc quicker than speech, even as the lightning
far outstrips the thunder's voice. At last she
smiled through lier tears, and whispered :
" Let what has past be forgotten. And if I
am worthy of your devotion, such love must
make me happy."
They loved. But words cannot describe their
interchange of sentiment, as forhours they paced
up and down that old terrace. The moon shone
brightly, and the stars beamed like diamonds
from heaven, to hallow every thouglit. Within
was dancing and gaiety — while the city before
them was busy, and noisy, and bustling— but
neither were thought of by the now happy cou-
ple. Often, since that time, has the same terrace
witnessed the interchange of vows, but among
the many who have poured forth the hoarded
treasures of their hearts, none have loved more
I devotedly than the Mameluke. Nor could he
hear Judith own her preference for him, without
feeling bin heart's chords vibrate before her voice
like those of an Eolian harp touched by the south
wind.
They were happy. Heart responded to heart,
and their every thought, acquiring ethereal in-
spiration, mingled. And what can be holier, on
earth, than the first interchange of vows, in soli-
tude, and by the gentle lights of night. If ever
a ray from the better world gilds the gloom
which surrounds earth's fairest creations — if ever
the light of hope mantles the cheek of dcs^pond-
ency — if ever an angel folds his nestling pinions
to contemplate a scene of earthly happiness, it is
when the solemn hour of night is awakened by
the pure and ardent vows of two loving spirits.
Past existence seems worthless, but the new love
blooms as a heaven-budded plant, planted deep
in the existence of each, and moistened by the
fountains of life.
"My children !"
The promenaders stopped, for they recognized
the voice of Madame Wilraot. " My children,"
she said, "for so I now feel that I may call you,
inclination would have led me here anhoursincc,
to assure you how I rejoice in the betrothal of
two so well qualified to make each other happy.
But I could not bear to interrupt you. Now,
Madame Bonaparte is inquiring for you, Judith,
and I can only say that I shall ever ask Heaven's
blessing upon your union."
As they entered the saloon, they met General
Bonaparte, with Josephine hanging on his arm.
"Well, well!" he jocosely remarked, "while
we have been receiving our guests, the major of
my guards has been captivating my nightingale.
So goes the World. But mind, major, you must
not be tempted from the service again. France
has need of such as you just now, and those who
serve her will not be forgotten."
"Nay, general," replied Osmanli, " my heart
is pledged to Judith, but my sword is at your
disposal."
"Well spoken. What say, Josephine, shall
we not witness the marriage ceremony before the
major is ordered on his first campaign !"
" That," said Josephine, " will be as Judith
says."
Judith hung her head and blushed.
" I will set the day a fortnight hence, then,
and we will have the marriage ceremony per-
formed by the archbishop. Now, major, it is
time for you to be in barracks, and Judith shall
go with me to my study and sing me one of the
airs with which she used to cheer my Egyptian
campaign."
" I obey, general, and wish all good evening."
" Bravo, bravo ! You are a model soldier,
and will make a model husband, I doubt not.
Meanwhile, you can pass all your evenings here
at the palace, if you will but return at a season-
able hour, in order to be up at reveille."
When Osmanli awoke the next morning, it
was with difficulty that he could persuade him-
self that the events of the past evening were not
a dream, But when, after morning parade, he
called at the palace, he found that he was indeed
a happy man.
To add to his pleasure, he received a long
letter that day from the Count de Vergennes,
informing him that he had safely arrived in
Prussia, and should, for the present, remain a
quiet spectator of political events. His gratitude
for the service 0;manlihad rendered him, was
unbounded, and he expressed strong hopes that
at some time he would repay the debt. Accom-
panying the letter was a small parcel, contain-
ing a valuable diamond.
To display the many other gifts which Osmanli
and Judith received, would require more room
than these pages can afford. Never did a young
couple enter upon life witli fairer auspices, and
yet, at times, Judith's fair brow was overcast
with sadness.
One morning Osmanli called, in full uniform,
for he had been with his squadron to escort Gen-
eral Bonaparte on an excursion to a new bar-
rack. Judith sprang to greet him, but her eyes
filled with tears, and her fine lip quivered. She
did not speak, but held out her hand, and grasped
his warmly.
" Why is this V asked Osmanli. " In tears !
Surely, dearest, nothing can have gone wrong"?"
" No, no !" replied Judith, mastering her
emotion. "Listen! I was just regretting, be-
fore you entered, that you had embraced the
profession of arms — a profession that is glorious
and renowned, but alas, full of peril. Ycu are
to-day in the full enjoyment of life and health,
but let duty summon you to the tented field, and
to-morrow yoti may be a corpse. Oppressed by
these thoughts, I felt fad, and your unexpected
entry, in the trappings of war, caused an over-
flow of my laden heart."
" Dearest Judiih, it was but last evening that
I lield a long conversation with my dear mother
on this very subject. Hoiior keeps me for the
present in the service, but perhaps, ere very long,
I shall cross the ocean with my mother, to sco
my father's home. Will it please my nightin-
gale to abide there, in the deep forests, where
nature reigns'?"
"Anywhere, Osmanli if you arc there. But,
if you love me, do not make my future existence
unhappy by remaining in the army."
" Treason — rank treason !" exclaimed a well-
known voice. Both started, and each looked
confused, for it was General Bonaparte who had
spoken. He had entered just after Osmanli,
but so absorbed were the young couple in each
other, that they had not noticed him.
" Yes," he continued, "here I find a lady en-
deavoring to persuade the major of my guards
to desert, and that just as his command is
organized."
" No, general !" said Osmanli, in a respectful
tone. " Not to desert. Judith knows too well
how deeply I am indebted to you, and how de-
termined I am to show my gratitude. When
the enemies of France are conquered, and yoa
are king — "
" Say emperor," interrupted Bonaparte, with
a smile.
" Well, emperor. Then, and not until then,
will I resign my sword."
" Then, and not until then, my gallant yet
love lorn youth, will I accept your resignation.
When is the wedding to take place V
" Next week, general."
" Well, well. We must see that the ceremony
is worthy of the occasion; nor will I longer in-
terrupt the billing and cooing. But," and he
I'aised his finger menacingly, "no more talk
about leaving the service.'"'
Why linger upon the description of these pre-
cious interview, when we can at once portray
the accomplishment of each fond hope. The
marriage ceremony was celebrated in the mag-
nificent gothic pile of Notre Dame, a chapel of
which was expressly decorated for the occasion.
General Bonaparte's uncle Lucien, who was a
dignitary in the Roman church, performed the
cei'emony, and numerous was the attendance of
fair women and brave men. Each of the happy
couple was first baptized, and then joined by
those sacred ties which death alone can sever.
The bridegroom, in the prime of life, seemed the
personification of happiness, and the bride could
but realize the most refined conception of female
loveliness that ever flashed through a sculptor's
dreams.
" Amen and amen ! Peace on earth and good
will to man," rang through the vaulted aisles of
the gothic fane. Osmanli Wilmot and Judith
Fezenzac were thenceforth one, and as the happy-
bridegroom gazed at his bride, he saw her star-
light eyes fliooded with the same sweet tears of
joy that coursed down his own manly cheek.
The wilderness of doubts, and fears, and trials,
was traversed, while happy thoughts, and joyous
raptures, scattered rose-leaves upon the pleasant
pathway on which they now walked hand-in-
hand.
After the ceremony at the church, there was a
brilliant entertainment at the palace, in honor of
the event. For the first time since the unfortu-
nate Queen Marie Antoinette had left them, to
ascend the fatal scaffold, the saloons of tlie Tuil-
eries, refulgent with the light of myri-ids of wax
candles, were filled with a gay throng. But the
glare of illumination, nor the splendor of dresses,
nor the scintillations of jewelry, nor the romantic
beauty of the young, nor the mature animation
of the matrons, was not equal to the serene de-
light whicli beamed fi'ora the happy couple's eyes.
Refreshments were most profusely circulated
throughout the evening, and at midnight Gen-
eral Bonaparte and Josephine, followed by the
bride and bridegroom, led the way to a magnifi-
cent supper- tabic, covered with game, fruit and
choice wines. A band of music poured forth
lively strains, and joy reigned on every hand
Soon the music ceased, and the host gave a
toast. It was :
" The health of Colonel Wilmot, of the con-
sular guard — of his bride, a lady of honor in this
palace, and of his excellent mother, superintend-
ent of the consular domestic expenditures."
And turning towards Osmanli, he handed him
the three parchments, commissions which half of
those present would have sacrificed their all to
have obtained.
GLEASON'S PICTOPJAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
3 37
There was an instant of silence. Osmanli es-
sayed to reply, but could not express his grati-
tude. Springing forward, lie sank upon one
knee, and grasping Bonaparte's hand with reve-
rential deference, he pressed it to his lips. The
effect was electrical, for it was the homage only
paid to sovereigns, and amid loud shouts of
" Long live Bonaparte !" Osmanli rose, saluted
the company, and left the festive scene.
A few fleeting days of happiness, and Osmanli
was ordered to march, at the head of his regi-
ment, towards Italy. It was hard 1o part with
Judith, but in relinquishing the pleasures of con-
nubial love, he entered the Held of glory, where
he could serve his idolized benefactor. Besides,
his mother watched over his bride, and they both
enjoyed the protection of Madame Bonaparte.
Crossing France, the army marched directly
towards the towering Alps, whose summits,
crowned with snow, are enthroned in clouds.
There was no road, and the narrow path was
one along which the chamois-hunter picked his
way with caution. On the one side, death await-
ed a single false step, on the other, towered
overhanging avalanches ; but, animated by the
presence of Bonaparte, tlie columns passed over
without accident. And as the army descended
on the other side of the mountains, entering a
beautiful valley, fall of verdure and luxuriant
vines, all admitted that the honor of the passage,
next to Bonaparte, belonged to the colonel of
his guard, who had led the way.
Such was the honorable mention of Osmanli,
in the bulletin sent by the general to Paris. It
gladdened the hearts of his mother and his bride,
yet they wept when they thought of the dangers
which he had undergone.
CHAPTER XSI.
FAREWELL TO FRANCE.
MoNTEBELLO and Marengo ! They were hard
fought fields, on each of which " bones crashed
like hailstones against windows," as the French,
charging with vigor into the Austrian columns,
won brilliant and decisive victories. Foremost
in each fight, at the head of his serried ranks,
was Osmanli, who had that quickness of percep-
tion so necessary to an ofiii;er, yet never sufi'ered
his intrepidity to lead him beyond his duty. At
Marengo he won high honor, for when sent un-
der General Desaix to turn the tide of the fight,
before which some French regiments had faltered,
the brave general received a musket-ball in his
forehead, and fell dead. For a moment, the
cavalry tightened their reins, but just then, in a
tone which rang far above the din of battle, Os-
manli shouted :
•'Forward! Charge for Bonaparte and ven-
geance !"
*' Bonaparte and vengeance !" echoed the
guards, the cry stimulating them witli fresh
courage. On they dashed, their long sabres
gleaming above the sulphurous clouds which
rolled over the plain, and soon they rode through
the opposing forces, cutting and trampling down
the Austrians as if they were destroying a field
of wheat. That charge gained the day, but the
loss of Desaix clouded Bonaparte's enjoyment,
and that night, when Osmanli came to make his
report, the general said :
" Your bravery, Colonel Wilmot, won the
victory, and your young wife's heart will leap
for joy when she hears your praises on every
tongue. Yet how different would she have felt
had your fate been that of poor Desaix. Per-
haps she would have reproached me, too. No —
this must not be. Listen, colonel, I once told
you that you owed me — owed France, a debt.
You have paid it. This campaign is over, and
now, honorably discharged, you can live in com-
fortable retirement."
" General," replied Osmanli, " I have but per-
formed my duty, and never will I forsake you,
whilst you need a sword or a horseman. Yet — "
" Yet," interrupted Bonaparte, " you love
your wife, and she is opposed to warfare. Would
that all mankind were. For my own part, I am
but as the mouth-piece, through which, as
through a tninipet, speaks the warlike genius of
the French people. I find the nation turbulent
and dissatisfied, and I unite them to combat
others. Warfare is one of the passions of man-
kind, and I must adopt it as the foundation of
my power. But never can I bring sorrow into
so gentle a heart as that of your bride. No, no !
They may call me a military tyrant, but my
heart is not callous to the finer feelings of hu-
manity."
" Kind, generous man !" exclaimed Osmanli.
"But I cannot desert you now. When you as-
cend the imperial throne, I can perhaps retire,
to contemplate your glories from another hemi-
sphere."
" Well, well. We shall see. Kow for the
reports."
A narrative of this con\er5atiou, which Os-
manli sent to Paris by the same courier who
conveyed intelligence of the victory, gladdened
the hearts of his wife and mother. All the proud
mentions of the joung hero's name did not, in
their eyes, eompeuaate for the anguish they ex-
perienced when they first received the false in-
telligence that he had fallen.
Soon the army returned to Paris, and was re-
ceived with tumultuous applause. Thanksgiv-
ings were ofiered up in the churches, shouts of
welcome and congratulation resounded on every
side, and the streets were strewn with flowers as
the conquerors passed. The valor of the con-
sular guards had preceded them, and Osmanli,
distinguished by his uniform, received cheer
after cheer. But the triumphal ovation was, to
him, long and tedious. At length his regiment
reached its barracks, and he hastened to the pal-
ace. There, folded to the heart of his own Ju-
dith, he felt happier than had he been in Bona-
parte's position, or worn a crown.
"And you will not leave rac again?" she
asked, with an irresistible smile.
" Henceforth, dearest," was his reply, "I am
yours alone. The general has promised to give
me a diplomatic mission, and having then hon-
orably resigned my commission, I can be ever
with those I love."
'■ But, Osmanli, will you not cros? the ocean?
Your mother has quite prepossessed me in favor
of America, where your father's estate now
awaits your coming."
" But can you forego the luxuries of city life V
" Yes, yes ! With you, dearest, I can be happy
anywhere. And there you will be away from
the enticements of military glory. But here
comes our mother."
The meeting between Osmanli and Madame
Wilmot was affectionate and cordial, and she
soon united her prayers to the wish of Judith,
that they could cross the ocean.
" Wait until after the imperial coronation,"
said Osmanli, with a smile, as they descended to
the drawing-room.
A few days passed, and Osmanli was sent
on a mission to Madrid, and when he returned,
he found that during his absence he had been
honorably discharged from the service, and ap-
pointed treasurer of tlie consular household. To
Madame Wilmot and Judith, this was a happy
change, for they could now live united, and en-
joy the social pleasures of domestic life. Os-
manli was also rejoiced at being able to enjoy
the society of his wife and mother, although oc-
casionally, when his old regiment passed hirn in
the street, his heart would throb with martial
pride, and a sigh would escape his lips. Curi-
ously enough, General Bonaparte now seldom
noticed Iiim, but that was not perhaps to be
wondered at, so arduously did the first consul
labor to consolidate the government. Republi-
can forms and usages vanished like an autumnal
frost before the morning's sun. The etiquette
of a court was revived. Chamberlains, equerries,
and other costly attendants on royalty were in-
stalled at the palace, nor was there any limit
there to ostentatious display or lavish extrava-
gance. All the shattered fragments of society
were bound up in the chains of a vast military
despotism, the Roman church rallied around the
power which restored its fallen altars, and the
enraptured Parisians worshipped their new idol.
The capital resumed its ancient splendor — talent,
art, and genius, no longer compelled to hide
themselves in obscurity, were received into favor.
Manufactures flourished, and France again saw
plenty and prosperity reviving in her midst,
effacing all vestiges of the long night of sorrow
which had passed.
Madame Bonaparte did much to ameliorate
the condition of society, and to aid those who
had suffered from the Revolution. In this good
work she employed Madame Wilmot and her
son, furnishing them with unlimited means to
succor all who returned from exile penniless.
One day, Josephine entered Madame Wil-
mot's room, dressed in a common garb, very
different from her usual rich and tasteful costume.
" I have taken the liberty of appointing an in-
terview in your room, my dear madame," said
she.
" An interview V
"Don't be shocked ! It is with alady — a for-
tune-teller— the celebrated Madame Le Normand.
We shall hear if she endorses the statements of
our old West Indian friend."
Soon the pythoness was announced, a good
looking, intelligent dame, of whom Josephine
inquired :
" Can you tell me if I am to remain long in
my present condition V
Madame Le Normand shuffled her mystical
cards, and then examined them. After taking
up three or four, she stopped, and gazed at
Josephine.
" Can it be possible V she ejaculated.
" Everything is possible to those who will,"
was the reply.
" Such, lady, is the motto of your chivalric
husband, whose future elevation you now labor
to attain. Success will follow — "
"And I will really become a queen?" inter-
rupted Josephine.
'• Alas, it is so written on the oracle. Tou
will ascend a throne. The strength and power
of your attending genius promise you a wonder-
ful, an inconceivable destiny — but your husband
will one day forget his solemn vows. Unhappily,
the greater he shall become, the more he will
stoop to artifice, in order to attain his own ends."
"Nay, nay," responded Josephine. "It can-
not be that Napoleon will ever desert me. His
fate is too closely linked with mine. To ige,
and not to him, did destiny promise a crown,
and through me has he risen — through me he
will rise. Let him repulse me, and he will fall."
Months passed, and one day Osmanli came
into his wife's room, where he found his mother.
" Good news !" he exclaimed, tenderly em-
bracing Judith.
" What ?" asked both ladies.
" Why the day of the coronation is definitely
fixed. Monsieur Le Brun, now second consul,
is named treasurer of the imperial exchequer,
and I have General Bonaparte's permission to
retire. Now, dear mother, I can tread the soil
of my ancestors, and with you and Judith, far
removed from these gay and frivolous scenes, we
can lead that life of quiet enjoyment for which
we have so long prayed."
That was a happy evening for the Wilmots ;
nor did Bonaparte display a more childish im-
patience to grasp his imperial insignia, than did
they to depart for the retirement of their forest
home.
At length the eventful day was ushered in by
tlie roar of artillery, and soon there was such a
display in the streets as the gay capital of France
had never witnessed before. The high military
and civil dignitaries of tlie empii'e, with the for-
eign ambassadors, and troops, formed a pageant
unrivalled for magnificence. The interior of the
cathedral had been sumptuously decorated, and
its vast galleries were thronged with titled spec-
tators, in full dress, and resplendent with gold
and jewels. The pope consecrated the imperial
diadem, after which he presented it to Bonaparte,
who placed it on his own head, then removed it
to the head of Josephine, and then again laid it
upon the aliar. An anthem of praise was chant-
ed, and then the heralds proclaimed that the
thrice glorious and august Napoleon had been
crowned "Emperor of the French." The accla-
mations of the assembled multitude pealed as
from the ocean, while the thousands without
taking up the shout, all Paris echoed with "Long
live Napoleon \"
Joy and pleasure, that day, had dominion in
France.
The farewell audience was brief. Napoleon
cordially thanked Osmanli for his faithful ser-
vice, and entreated him to return if he became
dissatisfied with America. Josephine had or-
dered costly gifts for Madame Wilmot and Jii-
didi. "Perhaps," she laughingly remarked, as
they left, " you may some day receive a visit
from me. I am the child of destiny, and there
is no saying wliere the ocean of time may yet
cast me."
Leaving Paris, the emigrants repaired to Ha-
vre, where, to their delight, they found their old
friend, Jack Norman, in command of a vessel
about to sail for Savannah. They at once en-
gaged his cabin, and the vessel was nearly
freighted with Osmanli's purchases. Books,
furniture, agricultural implements, with many
other things calculated to promote comfort, had
been carefully selected, and a few trusty domes-
tics were also taken. The Indians yet inhabited
the region where Osmanli proposed to settle — it
was his father's home — and civilization had made
little progress into the forest. So they went
prepared to transplant their home comforts, and
to improve the social condition of their wild
neighbors.
The voyage was short, but tempestuous, and
the staunch old vessel had to struggle hard to
surmount the mountain waves. But they were
bound to thtir home, the land of freedom, and
did not complain. At last, they reached the
mouth of the Savannah river, with its sentinel
light, and at the next tide, landed under the
bluffof the city of Oglethorpe. The necessary
preparations were soon made for forwarding the
luggage, and, bidding a hasty adieu to Jack
Norman, the party started for their forest-home.
* '!? * * * *
Years passed on ! Europe was convulsed,
and many of her fields were fertilized by the
blood of hostile armies, but at the residence of
the Wilmots all was repose, and happiness, and
calm tranquillity. The mild and benevolent fea-
tures of the old lady beamed with satisfaction,
and her enjoyment was heightened by the clan-
nish respect paid to her son by the surviving
Indians who had followed her husband iu war
and in peace. Judith, a buxom matron, sang
to her infant prattler the songj with which she
had once charmed the imperial warriors, and
although time's unsparing hand had chastened
the brilliancy of her beauty, it had brought out
the deeper, purtr, holier tints of her mind and of
her countenance in stronger relief. As for Os-
manli, a sphere of active usefulness had opened
to him in the high duties of an American citi-
zen, and instead of dreaming away existence, he
filled many important offices with credit to him-
self and profit to his adopted country. Nor did
he ever forget the deep debt of gratitude which
he owed to the " mystic tie," for he owed every-
thing— his life, his religion, his mother, his wife,
his home, to the use of its "secret sign."
THE END.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE CHILD'S PRAYER.
BY JENNI ilASBU.
She had hid the rose mid her golden curia,
And bound the violet there j
And a gleam of joy lit the crimson check,
That knew no shade of care.
For the skies ^Yere blue, and the flowers bright,
The birdling's song was love ;
And a charm was thrown around her gentle heart,
Like beamings from above.
She thought of the home in the better land,
Where all is ^vreathed in light ;
"My Father,"' said she, '-bless the flowers here,
And keep them ever bright.
I>et the sunsiiine fall on their pretty heads,
And bid the rosebuds bloom ;
Nor to the wild storm and the tempest's WTatli,
These gentle blossoms doom."
And the Father smiled on the little one,
For He loved the rosebuds, too ;
And He knew what years, with their bitter strife,
On that spotless heart would do.
He feared that storms of life's foaming tide
Would robe that flower in night ;
So He bore it hence, where the angels dwell,
To keep it forever bright 1
FAMILY ON THE PRAIRIE.
"We passed to-day through a large village or
settlement of the prairie-dog, extending in length
not less than half a mile, i'hese little animals
are very shy, and at the least approach of a
stranger hie themselves with all speed to their
holes, in which they partly bury their bodies,
leaving only their heads visible just above the
surface of the ground, where, so long as the
alarm lasts, they keep up a continual barking.
The note somewhat resembles the bark of a
small puppy, but is nevertheless so peculiar as
to \ii instantly recognized afterwards by any one
who has distinctly heard it once. They are very
hard to get, as they are never found far from
their holes ; and when shot fall immediately into
them, where they are generally guarded by a
rattlesnake — the usual sharer of their subter-
ranean retreat. Several were shot by us in this
situation, but when the hand was about to be
thrust into the hole to draw them out, the omi-
nous rattle of this dreaded reptile would be in-
stantly heard, warning the intruder of the danger
he was about to incur. A little white, burrow-
ing owl also is frequently found taking up his
abode in the same domicile, and this strange
association of reptile, bird and beast, seem to
live in perfect harmony and peace. I have never
personally seen the owl thus housed, but have
been assured of the fact from so many, so vari-
ous, and so crtdible sources, that I cannot doubt
it. The whirr of the rattlesnake I have heard
frequently when ihe attempt was made to invade
these holes, and our men at length became afraid
to approach them for this purpose." — Buffalo
Rough Notes.
Don't dispute against facts well established,
merely because ihere is somewhat unaccountable
in them. That the world should be created of
nothing is to us inconceivable ; but not therefore
to be doubted.
GLEASON'S I'lCrrOEIAL DllAAVING R00:M COMPANION
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, PEINCE ALBERT.
[For descri] tlon, see pagu 397.]
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING- llOOM COMPANION.
389
HER MAJESTV, QUEEN VICTORIA OF ENGLAND.
iFt d»i8r,iiptioa,se« piige 397.]
390
GLEASON'S PTCTOIITAL DRAWING HOOM COMPANION.
[Written for GIohkoii'h Phrtorial.]
I I\11SS THEE, LOVE.
BY n. ORTFFIN BTAPLEB.
I miss thco in tho morning, lovo,
Afl in tho ca.st I 8Co
Tlio Hun arisu,
Anil mount tho pkliss,
Above both Bpiro and tree.
I miss thio at llio noontide hour;
No mild, blUR, luughing cya
BBiimB liencG on me,
With mirth iind gloe,
Since thou art never nigh ;
And as the duHky ahudowa fall,
J uiias thy plaintive voice.
Which thrilled uiy soul
Beyond control,
And mado my heart rejoice.
I misB thco at still evening, lovo.
As stars play o'er yon blue ;
And earth is bright
With silver light,
Which streams the darkness through.
^ [Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE HUiMBLED PHAKISEE.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
" What was that?" exclaimed Mrs. Andrews,
to the lady who was seated next to her, as a sin-
gle strain of music vibrated for a few moments
on the atmosphere.
"A violin, I suppose," was answered.
"A violin!" An expression almost of horror
L-ame into the countenance of Mrs, Andrews.
" It can't be possible."
It was possible, however, for the sound came
again, prolonged and varied.
" What does it mean ■?" asked Mrs. Andrews,
looking troubled, and moving uneasily in her
chair.
" Cotillons, I presume," was answered, care-
lessly.
" Not dancing, surely !"
But, even as Mrs. Andrews said this, a man
entered, carrying in his hand a violin. There
was an instant movement on the part of several
younger members of the company ; partners
were chosen, and ere the pious Mrs. Andrews
had lime to collect her suddenly bewildered
thoughts, the music had struck up, and the
dancers were in motion.
" I can't remain here. It's an outrage !"
said Mrs. Andrews, making a motion to rise.
The lady by whom she was silting compre-
hended now more clearly her state of mind, and
laying a hand on her arm, gently restrained her.
"Why not remain? What is an outrage,
Mrs. Andrews ?■" she asked.
"Mrs. Burdick knew very well that I was a
member of the church." The lady's manner
was indignant.
"All your friends know that, Mrs. Andi-ews,"
replied the lady. A third person might have de-
tected in her tones a lurking sarcasm. But this
was not perceived by the individual addressed.
"But what is wrong?"
"Wrong! Isn't that wTong?" And she
glanced towards the mazy wreath of human
figures already circling on the floor. "I could
not have believed it of Mrs. Burdick; and she
knew that I was a professor of religion."
" She doesn't expect you to dance, Mrs. An-
drews," said the lady.
"But she expects me to countenance the sin
and folly by my presence."
" Sin and folly are strong terms, Mrs. An-
drews."
" I know they are, and I use them advisedly.
I hold it a sin to dance,"
"I know wise and good people who hold a
different opinion."
" Wise and good !" Mrs. Andrews spoke
with strong disgust. " I wouldn't give much
for their wisdom and goodness — not I !"
" The true qualities of men and women are
best seen at home. When people go abroad,
they generally change their attire — mental as
well as bodily. Now, I have seen the home-life
of certain ladies, who do not think it sin to
dance, and it was fall of flic heart's warm sun-
shine; and I have seen the home-life of certain
ladies who held dancing to be sinful, and I have
said to myself, half shudderingly : ' What child
can breathe that atmosphere for years, and not
grow up with a clouded .spirit, and a fountain of
bitterness in the heart!'"
"And so you mean to say," Mrs. Andrews
spoke wirli some asperity of manner, " that danc-
ing makes ])eoplG bettur ? — Is, in fact, a means of
grace '("
" No. I say no sucb tbing."
" Then what do you mean to say? I draw
the only conclusion I can make."
" One may grow better or worse from danc-
ing," said the lady. "All will depend on tho
spirit in which the recreation is indulged. In it-
self the act is innocent."
Mi'S. Andrews shook her head.
" In what docs its sin consist '("
" It is an idle waste of time."
" Can you say nothing more of it?"
" I could, but delicacy keeps me silent."
" Did you ever dance ?"
" Me ■? What a question ! No !"
" I have danced often. And, let me say, that
your inference on the score of indelicacy is al-
together an assumption."
" Why everybody admits that."
"Not by any means."
" If the descriptions of some of the midnight
balls and assemblies that I have heard, of the
waltzing, and all that, be true, then nothing
could be more indelicate, — nothing more injuri-
ous to the young and innocent."
" All good things become evil in their per-
verseness," said the lady. "And I will readily
agree with you, that dancing is perverted, and
its use, as a means of social recreation, most
sadly changed into what is injurious. The same
may be said of church going."
" You shock me," said Mrs. Andrews. " Ex-
cuse me, but you are profane."
" I trust not. Eor true religion — for the holy
things of the church— I trust that I have the
most profound reverence. But let me prove
what I say, that even church going may become
evil."
"I am all attention," said the incredulous
Mrs. Andrews.
" You can bear plain speaking."
"Me!" The church member looked sur-
prised.
" Yes, you."
" Certainly I can. But wby do you ask V
" To put you on your guard, — nothing more."
" Don't fear but what I can hear all the plain
speaking you may venture upon. As to church
going being evil, I am ready to prove the nega-
tive against any allegations you can advance.
So speak on."
After a slight pause, to collect her thoughts,
the lady said :
" There has been a protracted meeting in Mr.
B 's church."
" I know it. And a blessed time it was."
" You attended ?"
" Yes, every day ; and greatly was my soul
refreshed and strengthened."
"Did you see Mrs. Eldridge there ?"
" Mrs. Eldridge ? No indeed, except on Sun-
day. She's too worldly-miijjded for that."
" She has a pew in your church."
" Yes ; and comes every Sunday morning be-
cause it is fashionable and respectable to go to
church. As for her religion, it isn't worth
much, and will hardly stand her at the last
day."
"Why Mrs. Andrews I You shock, me!
Have you seen into her heart? Do you know
her purposes? Judge not, that ye be not judged,
is the divine injunction."
" A tree is known by its fruit," said Mrs.
Andrews, who felt the rebuke, and slightly
colored.
"True; and by their fruits shall ye know
them," replied the lady. "But come, there are
too many around us here for this earnest conver-
sation. We will take a quarter of an hour to
ourselves in one of the less crowded rooms. No
one will observe our absence, and you will be
freed from the annoyance of these dances."
The two ladies quietly retired from the draw-
ing-rooms. As soon as they were more alone,
the last speaker resumed.
" By their fruits ye shall know them. Do
men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?
Let me relate what I saw and heard in the fami-
ly of two ladies during this protracted meeting.
One of these ladies was Mrs. Eldridge. I was
passing in her neighborhood about four o'clock,
and as I owed her a call, thought the opportuni-
ty a good one for returning it. On entering, my
cars caught the blended music of a piano, and
children's happy voices, Eromthe front parlor,
through the partly opened door, a sight, beauti-
ful to my eyes, wasrevealed. Mrs. Eldridge was
seated at the instrument, her sweet babe asleep
on one arm, while, with a single hand, she was
touching tho notes of a familiar air, to which
four cliildren were dancing. A more iimoccnt,
loving, haj)py group I have never seen. For
nearly ten minutes I gazed upon tlicm unob-
served, so interested that I forgot the question-
aljlc propriety of my conduct, and during that
time, not an unkind word was uttered by one of
the children, nor did anything occur to mar the
harmony of the scene. It was a sight on which
angels could have looked, nay, did look wiih
])lcasurc ; for, whenever hearts are turned lo
good aflections, angels arc present. The music
was suspended, and the dancing ceased, as I pre-
sented myself. The mother greeted me with a
happy smile, and each of the children spoke to her
visitor with an air at once polite and respectful.
"'I've turned nurse for the afternoon, you
see,' said Mrs. Eldridge, cheerfully. ' It's Alice's
day to go out, and I never like to trust our little
ones with the chambermaid, who isn't over fond
of children. We generally have a good time on
these occasions, for I give myself up to thein en-
tirely. They've read, and played, and told sto-
ries, until tired, and now I've just brightened
them up, body and mind, with a dance.'
" And bright and happy they all looked.
" ' Now run up into the nursery for a little
while, and build block houses,' said she, 'while
I have a little pleasant talk with my friend.
That's good children. And I want you to be
very quiet, for dear little Eddy is fast asleep, and
I'm going to lay him in his crib.'
"Away went the children, and I heard no more
of them for the half hour during which I staid.
With the child in her arms, Mrs. Eldridge went
up to her chamber, and I went with her. As
she was laying him in the crib, I took from the
mantle a small porcelain figure of a kneeling
child, and was examining it, when she turned to
me. 'Very beautiful,' said I. 'It is,' she re-
plied. ' We call it our Eddy, saying his prayers.
There is a history attached to it. Very early I
teach my little ones to say an evening prayer.
First impressions are never wholly effaced ; I
ibeiefore seek to implant, in the very dawning
of thought, an idea of God, and our dependence
on him for life and all our blessings, knowing
that, if duly fixed, this idea will ever rtmain,
and be the vessel, in after years, for the recep-
tion of truth flowing down from the great
source of all truth. Strangely enough, my little
Eddy, so sweet in temper as he was, steadily re-
fused to say his prayers. I tried in every way
that I could think of to induce him to kneel
with the other children, and repeat a few simple
words; -but no, his aversion thereto was uncon-
querable. I at last grew really troubled about
it. There seemed to be a vein in his character
that argued no good. One day I saw this kneel-
ing child in a store. With the sight of it came
the thought of how I might use it. I bought
the figure, and did not show it to Eddy until he
was about going to bed. The effect w^as all I
had hoped to produce. He looked at it for some
moments earnestly, then dropped on his little
knees, clasped his white hands, and murmured
the prayer I had so long and so vainly strove to
make. him repeat.'
" Tears were in the eyes of Mrs. Eldridge, as
she uttered the closing words. I felt that she
was a true mother, and loved her children with
a high and holy love. And now, let me give
you a picture that strongly contrasts with this.
Not far from Mrs. Eldridge, resides a lady, who
is remarkable for her devotion to the church,
and, I am compelled to say, want of charity to-
wards all who happen to differ with her — more
particularly, if the difference involves church
matters. It was after sundo'^vn ; still being in
the neighborhood, I embraced the opportunity
to make a call. On ringing the bell, I heard,
immediately, a clatter of feet down the stairs
and along the passage, accompanisd by chil-
dren's voices, loud and boisterous. It was some
time before the door was opened, for each of the
four children, wishing to perform the ofRce, each
resisted the others' attempts to admit the visitor.
Angry exclamations, rude outcries, ill names,
and struggles for the advantage continued, tmtil
the cook, attracted from the kitchen by the
noise, arrived at the scene of contention, and,
after jerking the children so roughly as to set
the two youngest crying, swung it open, and I
entered. On gaining the parlor, I asked for the
mother of these children.
" ' She isn't at home?' said the cook.
"'She's gone to church,' said the oldest of
the children.
" ' I wish she 'd stay at home,' remarked cook
in a very disrespectful way, and with a manner
that showed her to be much fretted in her mind.
' It's Mary's day out, and she knows I can't do
anything with the children. Such children I
never saw ! They don't mind a word you say,
and quarr. 1 i-o among themselves, that it makes
me sick to hear them,'
"At this moment a hcadlcfis doll .struck
against the side of my neck. It had been thrown
by one child at another; missing her aim, she
gave me ibc benefit of her evil intenlion. At
this, cook lost all patience, and sei/Jng the of-
fending little one, boxed her soundly, before I
could interfere. The language used by that
child, as she escaped from the cook's hands, was
shocking. It made my flesh creep !
"'Did I understand you to say that your
mother hai gone to church;' I a.skcd of Ihc
oldest child.
" ' Yes, ma'am,' was answered, ' She 's been
every day this week. There 's a protracted
meeting.'
"* Give me that book !' screamed a child, at
this moment. Glancing across the room, I saw
two of the little ones contending for possession
of a large family Bible, which lay upon a small
table. Before I could reach them, for I started
forward, from an impulse of the moment, the
table was thrown over, the marble top broken,
and the cover torn from the sacred volume."
The face of Mrs. Andrews became instantly
of a deep crimson. Not seeming to notice this,
her Iriend continued.
" As the table fell, it came within an inch of
striking another child on the head, who had seat-
ed himself on the floor. Had it done so, a frac-
tured skull, perhaps instant death, would have
been the consequence."-
Mrs. Andrews caught her breath, and grew
very pale. The other continued.
" In the midst of the confusion that followed,
the father came home.
" ' Where is your mother V he asked of one of
the children.
" ' Gone to church,' was replied.
" ' 0 dear !' I can hear his voice now, with its
tone of hopelessness, — 'This church-going ma-
nia is dreadful. I tell my wife that it is all wrong.
That her best service to God is to bring up her
children in the love of what is good and true, —
in filial obedience and fraternal affection. But
it avails not.'
" And now, Mrs. Andrews," continued the
lady, not in the least appearing to notice the
distress and confusion of her over-pious friend,
whom she had placed upon the rack, "When
God comes to make up his jewels, and says to
Mrs. Eldridge, and also to this mother who
thought more of church-going than of her pre-
cious little ones. Where are the children I gave
you? which do you think will be most likely to
say, Here they are, not one is lost ?"
" Have I not clearly shown you that even
church-going may be perverted into an evil ?
That piety may attain an inordinate growth,
while charity is dead at the root ? Spiritual
pride ; a vain conceit of superior goodness be-
cause of the observance of certain forms and cere-
monies, is the error into which too many devout
religionists fall. But God sees not as man
seeth. He looks into the heart, and judges his
creatures by the motives that rule them."
And, as she said this, she arose, the silent
and rebuked Mrs. Andrews, whose own picture
had been drawn, following her down to the gay
drawing rooms.
Many a purer heart than that of the humbled
Pharisee beat there beneath the bosoms of hap-
py maidens, even thouj^h their feet were rising
and falUng in time to witching melodies.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
WOMAW'S INFLUENCE.
BY MBS R. T. ELDHEDGE.
Not when her eye is brightest.
In pleasure's heaming hour;
Not when her heart ia lightest,
Does she e.wrt her power.
But when dark shades are crowding
Around the fireside hearth,
And grief her home's enshroudiug.
Then man vnll own her worth.
If she he kind and generous,
With fret' and open heart,
iler love will grow more strenuous,
As fortune's rays depart!
Would you secure a treasure
To stay by you through life —
Search not 'uiid halls of pleasure,
The heart e'er makes the wife !
Never offer advice, but where there is some
probability of its being followed.
GLEASON'S PICTOHIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
391
[Written for Gleasoa's PictoriuJ.]
3I0UWT IDA, TROV, NEM' ^ORlt.
East of the city, to the height of 400 feet, stands the
mountainj so called, from whose summit Ls to be seen an
extent of countri' embracing all that is picturesque and
grand in nature, while scattered over the landscape everj'-
where are the works of civilization. At the foot of the
mountain you have the elegant city of Troy brought so
distinctly before the eje, that every street, house and oh.
ject are minutely discernible ; while the junction of the
Mohawk and the Hudson with tte " flashing falls of the
Cohoes," and Albany in the distance, constitute, as a
whole, one of the most perfect and gorgeous landscapes
that the imagination can conceive. Here, the writer has
pasted some of the happiest moments of his e.xistence-
In February, 1842, a teirific land slide descended from the
extreme point of the mountain sweeping everything be-
fore it, killing eighteen persons and many horses, and
destroying a large number of dwellings.
Ida 1 a grandeur is around thy brow,
Though dread iNiagara's voice in thunders speak,
Droivning thy sweet and less terrific flow —
Veleno's broken waves, where white foam sti-eak
Its sable rocks, charm such who grandeur seek ;
But yet romantic beauty bides with thee,
And on the precipice the \vild flowers meek.
Wave wanton in the breeze that sweeps thcni free,
As yoa red sun descends behind the sable tree !
Where are the stalwort hunters of the hills ?
Where the red brothers of thy solitude?
No Indian watch-fires hght the silver rills,
No war-whoops on still echo's ear intrude 1
Like thy own wave, that noble tribe and rade
Hath ebbed away, leaving another race,
Whose feet the wild deer never hath pursued
Upon thy hills of vnnd with equal pace \
Enough ! the seal of silence is upon
My voiceless lyre, fair Ida, fare thee well I
My latest steps thy fading leaves are on ;
Yet memory of thee, my heart, shall tell,
As gliding days sing their departing knell,
Like thy own waters, onward to the deep —
Thy voice is solemn as a passing bell,
As down the cliff the tumbling billows leap,
So do the days of life to death's dark ocean sweep 1
On the level brow of this hill is a beautiful cemetery, or
" city, of the silent," within view of the cascade called
" Ida Falls.'- In this romantic spot sleeps the writer's
only child. A neat monument of white marble now
I stands as a small tribute of affection, and bears the fol-
lowing inscription from his pen: — "iVL\Rr Anse only
■ child of Joseph H. and Anne Maria Butler ; died Sept.
16, 1839, aged 3 years."
Little flower of fragile stem,
Love and beauty's treasured gem.
Shall we mourn thy early doom?
Thou art faded but to bloom !
In the spirit land eternal.
Blossom valleys ever vernal;
Fanned by Arinds that know not sighing,
Decked with flowerets never dying.
Faith's bright wings to heaven are spread,
Christ is risen from the dead !
He of light and^e, the giver,
Loved one — thou art his forever!"
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE AVAY TO AVASHINGTON.
No. III.
BY B. PERLEY POOBE.
The approach to New York by water, on
cither river, or from the sea, gives an imposing
idea of the city to the visitor, even as the gigan-
tic portico of St. Peters at Rome prepares one
for the glories of the fane. Nor could I, as I
gazed tbis morning upon the forest of shipping,
the miles of warehouses, and the tleet of half-
flcdged steamers on the stocks which we passed
in review as we steamed along the East Kiver,
but think that New York is the type of this age
of material civilization. Other epochs in the
world's history have been characterized by par-
ticular mental and moral manifestations; there
has been an age of violence, an age of faith, an
age of chivalry, an age of Icaijiing, an age of
manners — but these middle decades of the nine-
teenth century constitute pre-eminently an age
of physical development, especially on the west-
ern continent. And nowhere do we see a more
striking example of this than at New York.
Docks, ship-yards, ocean steamers, and acres of
buildings rise as it were from nothing — not at
the arbitrary dictate of a powerful despot, but in
the quiet way of individual enterprise, and solely
in obedience to the requirements of an ever-
increasing commerce ; and an imposing power
is this commerce, for nowadays nearly all the
working intellect of the age is in some way in-
volved in its physical conquests. Some dislike
this bustling industry and profitable progress.
Surrounded by dismal thoughts, as Marius sat
amid the Carthagenian ruins, they quote an apo-
thegm from Bacon, or a stanza from Horace, or
a verse from the prophet Jeremy, winding up
with the tombstone morality of " Sic transit
gloria mundi !" But, so far as I am individually
concerned, I prefer to watch a growing plaut,
and to hail the glories of the world as they pro-
gress toward their point of culmination. I have,
it is true, gazed upon the ruins of Thebes with
interest, but I prefer to witness the prospeiity of
New York, where " commerce thunders loud
with her ten thousand wheels." There is some-
thing cheering in the very growth of power and
magnilicence. I even grudge the supernatural
celerity of the expansion of Aladdin's palace;
and would willingly watch in the story, the lay-
ing of its bricks of alabaster, the mixture of its
mortar of golden sand, the placing of every em-
erald and ruby bestudding its glory-stained win-
dows. And as I this morning approached New
York, it was a treat to watch the giant steps that
progress and prosperity have taken. Then,
stepping on shore, commenced the "battle of
life" with the hackmen, who look upon travel-
lers as their legitimate prey — throw open the
doors of their vehicles, and seizing the unfortu-
nate stranger, endeavor to fulfil tlie apostolic
injunction, and " take him in."
Up Broadway ! It was too early to meet the
down flood of business humanity, but the pave-
ment resounded with the rattling of milk-carts,
and the closed stores echoed with the shrill cries
of the news-venders. A f:;w minutes' walk, and
I reached " Old Trinity," the fourth house of
worship which has been erected on the same
spot, each eclipsing its predecessor in size and
beauty. No one can gaze at its noble exterior
without feeling a sentiment of deep admiration ;
enter, and it deepens into awe, especially if the
deep pealing tones of the organ are echoing
along the vaulted ceiling, while a "dim, reli-
gious light" steals through the storied windows
to cast a Mosaic of bright colors upon the oaken
seats. Free, these seats are, with the exception
of a few hereditary seats, so that there is no dis-
play of pride in pew-rights, and all can worship
" without money."
Kegistering at the Astor House is securing the
comforts of home whilst in the city, and one of
the oleasantcst sights in Christendom is the noon
panorama from its parlor windows. The street
is an intricate current of vehicles, dodging about
like dancers in an old fashioned contra dance,
whilst on the sidewalks arc the representatives of
" all the world " and a fair delegation of woman-
kind besides, all mixed up like the ingredients
in a bowl of punch. Mustachiod Frenchmen,
rosy Britons, bearded Germans, patriotic sons of
Erin, and gaunt New Englandcs mingle; and
if one goes out to join in the promenade, he
hears nearly as many tongues and accents as
greeted the ears of the Babylonians. Then how
magnificent are the stores — temples consecrated
to fashion, which far surpass the vaunted bazaars
of the Orient. Enter one of them — Stewart's,
for instance — and gaze on the rich and rare fab-
rics of varied tints and textures, which quiver
before the eyes of prnxhasers, as thi y are exhib-
ited in their happiest light. Silks from Lyons
and shawls from Cashmere, laces from Belgium
and poplins from Ireland — why, Mother Eve
surrendered without a tithe of the temptations
which her " shopping " daughters calmly gaze at.
Not far distant, where a gloomy prison-house
now stands, the first American steamer was con-
structed by the ill-used John Fitch. There was
a pond there in those days, in which the inventor
launched his " steamer," which was eighteen feet
long, by six feet beam, with a ten gallon iron
kettle for a boiler, and wooden machinery. It
went at the rate of six miles an hour, but was
ridiculed as a " useless theoretical invention."
So the boat rotted on the collect pond, whilst
poor Eiteh committed suicide, a broken-hearted,
disappointed man.
But I am not describing New York, although
a hasty pen and ink sketch of some of the edito-
rial fraternity may not be amiss. Gen. Webb,
of the Courier and Enquirer, is entitled to prece-
dence, and a fine looking specimen of humanity
he is, although he lacks the joyous, pleasant ex-
pression of countenance which characterizes Gen.
Morris, of the Home Journal. The Messrs.
Brooks, of the Express, show that assiduous edi-
torial labor leaves traces of its toil; and as for
Horace Greeley, of the Tribune, his sheet is a da-
guerreotype of the mind and of the man — eccen-
tric, erratic, regardless of what any one says,
yet true and staunch at heart. Col. Fuller, of
the Evening Miiror, and Mr. Young, of the Al-
bion, are living proofs that editors can be gentle-
men— high toned in thought, untrammelled by
sordid ties, and above low personalities ; need I
add, that each is a quiet looking, well bred and
well dressed man 1 Then there is Picton, of the
Sachem, a jovial bon vivard — Pick ScoviUe, of
that mirth-provoking sheet which every lover of
fun chooses when he enters a news shop to take
his 'Pick," a pleasant companion, too, and not
bad looking ; Capt. Farnsworth, the rollicking
commander of the Dutchman, a right good look-
ing, fine eyed soldier. And then there is Porter,
of the Spirit of the l^imes. There he sits, en-
shrined in a cabinet decked with trophies of the
chase, and rejoicing in whiskers which equal in
size the circulation of Ills journal — a group "of
'em " always around him, and " Frank's " but a
few steps beyond. Verily, the editors of New
York are a companionable class, and happy is
the stranger who enjoys their hospitality.
The military, also, are a noble-hearted set of
gentlemen, who meet strangers with a hearty
welcome, and "put through" their comrades
from other States "with a will." The fact is,
that here in New York they have learned by sad
experience that the cartridge-box is necessary to
preserve the purity of the ballot-box, and to sus-
tain the laws. It is not in the nature of things
for men to give away any advantages that they
can keep, or to curb passions that can run riot
unlicensed. They may not always, perhaps, re-
tain their advantages until they are compelled
by force to resign them — they may have the good
sense to see physical force at a distance, and
yitld in time; but no liberty can exist without
armed men. King John signed the first charter
of freedom purely from a dread of physical force ;
and it is well to have at hand — not hireling mer-
cenaries— but well disciplined citizens, who nat-
urally seek to preserve the peace of the commu-
nity in which all their interests centre. The citi-
zen soldiery of New York merit high honor, and
are one of the ornaments of that busy city.
But I must not linger on "the way," for all
the world and his wife are talking about "Wash-
ington, where there is anticipated a brilliant ses-
sion, followed by an imposing inauguration on
that day when so many unfortunate oftice-holdcrs
will hear ringing in their ears : " March Fourth !"
Poor fellows !
" We're told by Sterne, the saddest sound,
'\rhich ever ear of mortal heard,
M'as when the poor imprisoned bird
Looked on the free air all around,
And cried in piteous, plaintive shout:
' I can't get out — I can't get out.'
" But now one hears a sadder strain,
A far more melancholy song |
For, as they pace the streets along,
Those who servo 0ncle Sam exclaim :
(Tis plain enough beyond all doubt),
' They'll turn us out — they'll turn us out ' "
SIMPLICITY IN DRESS.
Those who think that In order to dress well,
it is necessary to dress extravagantly or grandly,
make a great mistake. Nothing so well becomes
true feminine beauty as simplicity. We have
seen many a remarkably fine person robbed of
its true effect by being o\er dressed. Nothing
is more unbecoming than overloading beauty.
The stern simplicity of the classic tastes is seen
in the old statues and pictures jsainted by men
of superior artistic genius. In Athens, the la-
dies were not gaudily, but simply arrayed, and
we doubt whether any ladies ever excited more
admiration. So also the noble old Roman mat-
rons, whose superb forms were gazed on delight-
edly by men worthy of them, were always very
plainly dressed. Fashion often presents the
hues of the butterfly, but fashion is not a classic
goddess. — George v. Prentice.
TO PROMOTE HEALTH.
Do not expect, sir, some wonderful announce-
ment, some fascinating mystery ! No. It is
simply the plain little practice of leaving your
bedroom window a little open at the top while
sleeping, both winter and summer. I do not
come before you as a theorist or an inexperi-
enced teacher, in thus calling loudly upon every
fiimily to this healthful practice. I am the fath-
er of ten children, all in pure health, and have —
thank God — never lost one, aUhough their natu-
ral constitutions were not robust. But in addi-
tion to the salutary effect of the practice in my
own family, wherever I have advised others to
try its efl^ects, it has invariably been found to be
both pleasant and beneficial. — CoiTespondent of
the London Sun.
AIMIKG AT EMINENCE.
Do not trouble yourself about "rising to emi-
nence." If, in conser/ifeiice of your writings or
your deeds, you should become eminent, very
well ; but to do anything /or the sake of " rising
to eminence," is unworthy of a man. Very
comfortable and very noble lives are led in ob-
scurity. Moreover, true eminence is not attain-
able by any man who places it before him as his
chief object, because that indicates an inliercnt
weakness of character. — Home Journal.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
AUTUMN aiUSIAG.
BT LIEDT. E. CURTISS HIKE.
'Tis good when the rooks are calling,
When the year is about to die,
When the painted leaves are falling.
And the streams run moaning by.
To muse on those who started
With us on the race of life.
But who shook our hands and pai'tcd,
■W'om out with the cold -world's strife.
They drooped by the wayside weary.
And gazed with looks forlorn,
As the day grew dark and dreary.
And the thoughtless crowd rushed on,
All heedless of their sorrow.
Like the ocean's restless tide ;
But when diiwns life's glorious morrow.
They'll stand by their Maker's side.
Thus muse I, long and often.
As the year draws near the end ;
And my eyes with tear-drops soften,
As I think on many a friend,
Wtaried with life's rough journey,
Sunk by the wayside worn j
And waiting with quiet patience,
For the dawn of a heavenly morn.
THE ELEPHANT IN TROUBLE.
An affecting incident occurred lately in St.
Johnsville, at the breaking of a bridge over
which two elephants, belonging to the circus and
menagerie of Messrs. Sands, Quick & Co., were
crossing. It appears that through the careless-
ness of their keepers in allowing both elephants
to go on the bridge together, their weight caused
it to break down, when the two noble animals
were precipitated from a height of fifteen feet to
the bed of the river among the rocks, injuring
the female (Juliet) so severely that it was a long
time impossible to get her out of the water.
The male (Romeo) not being as much hurt was
soon in a condition to be removed, but his at-
tachment toward his unfortunate companion was
so great that no effort could induce him to leave
her in the time of trouble. Various means of
persuasion and even force were resorted to
without effect. Separating them alive seemed
almost impossible. At length a large powerful
mastiff, obtained several years ago from the farm
of Henry Clay, in Lexington, by whom the ele-
phants had allowed themselves to be driven, and
of whom the female was very much in fear, was
brought out and set at Romeo for the purpose of
getting him away from his mate. Notwith-
standing her broken limbs and dread of the dog,
the faithful Juliet made a desperate effort to
protect her partner, in doing which, the position
of the two wounded animals became so much
changed as to enable the keepers with assistance
to drag them on the beach. Finding it necessary
to leave them behind, the company caused a
shed to be built over the bank of the stream,
where the devoted friends will remain until their
wounds are healed. These elephants were-cap-
tured together in Asia ten years ago and brought
to England, where they were purchased by the
celebrated Womble, and taught to perform to-
gether in their dramatic pieces at all the princi-
pal theatres in Europe. They subsequenily be-
came the property of R. Sands, Quick & Co.,
with whom they have always travelled in this
country, and are known far and wide. Eomeo,
though much stiffened and bruised, is not dan-
gerously hurt, and will be continued in the ex-
hibition. But poor Juliet is past all surgery ;
having broken her shoulder and otherwise being
sadly crippled, she cannot long survive her inju-
ries, and will "never march again." — Uiica
Gazette.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
BLOW THE HORN, HUNTER.
AN ALPINE SONG OF THE CHASE.
BY J. STARE HOLLOWAT.
Blow the horn, hunter ! blow the horn loudly !
Blow a long, cheerful and soul -stirring strain I
Sound till the echo from her retreat pi-oudly
Answers the glad tones again and again.
Tra, la, la, la— tra la, la.
Huzza, huzza 1
Sound till the deer from his dense covert startled.
Tremblingly rushes upon our glad Tiew —
Then up and pursue, pursue \
Into the forest, see the doe bounding
Forward so fearfully from crag to crag !
List to the horn's cheering music resounding,
See in our path yonder gleams the proud stag 1
Tra, la, la, la— tra la, la,
IIu/,ui, huzza.'
On, on,exultantl till in death's last shudder,
TrembUngly yielding before us he cowers —
The victory is ours, is ours !
Economy. — Economy is a good thing, and
should be practised by all, but it should show
itself in denying ourselves — not in oppressing
others. AVe see persons spending dollar after
dollar foolishly one hour, and the next trying to
save a penny piece off a wood-sawjer, coal-
heaver or market woman. Such things are dis-
graceful, if not dishonest. — T. S- Aiihar.
Wi.'-o men ne'er sit and w.iil their los.",
But chcerly seek how to redress their harm.
Ska/cspeare.
392
GLEASim'S nCTOllIAL DIIAAVTNG-ROOM COMPANION.
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03
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GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DIIAWING-ROOM COMPANIOX.
393
MEDALLION HBAH OE WEBSTER AKD MOURNING PIECE.
[For description, see pair.' J)'j2 1
394
GLEASON'S I^ICTOIUAL DllAAVlNG llOOM COMPANION.
[Written for GIcuwoii'm Pictorial.]
THE LIt'K Ol'' TiilAL.
VY PlirF.DB OAREir.
I am glad hor llfo ih ovor,
Olud thntull ber triiilHiirc pOHt;
For hor' pillow was not Boftt'iiod
Down with T03UH to tho last.
Wliori aliarp thorns choked up tho pathway
Where Bho wandered sail and worn,
JJever kind hand prosa{d them barkward,
So hor fcot wcro piurcod and torn.
And when life's storn course of duty
Tlirough tho fiery furnace mn,
Never «aw nho one bejrido her,
Likfl unto tbo Son of Man.
Ero tho holy dow of baptism
Cooled her aching forehead's heat,
Ilcavicat waters of nftliction
Many timen had touched her feet.
Long for iior deliverance waiting,
Ulung she to the cross in vain ;
With an agouiaing birth-cry
Was her spiiit born again.
And her path grew always rougher,
Weiu-ier, wearier, still she trod,
Till through gates of awful anguish,
She went in at last to God !
[Written for Qleason'a Pictorial.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. XV.
BY DR. JEROME V. C. SMITH.
EXCURSION TO THE BLACK SEA.
Still further on, we arrived at the base of the
Giant's Mountain, which required a fatiguing
walk to reach the top. It is by far the most ele-
vated point on the Asiatic side, near the Bos-
phorus. There are two or three small houses
on the most commanding point, with an occa-
sional tree, several fenced patches of land, but
nothing like industry or comfort in or about the
premises.
A quiet, moping old Turk keeps tobacco, cof-
fee, and, perhaps, some vegetables and bread in
a rickety, one story shop, from which a m^agnifi-
ccnt view is had of the entrance into the Black
Sea, On the European continent, some of the
masonry by which water is conveyed to the city,
and various other objects that give variety tc the
scene, are conspicuous.
Back of the principal house, resembling an or-
dinary one story farmer's quarters in New Eng-
land, is a small yard, enclosed by a high fence,
not for the protection of plants, but an immense-
ly long grave, forty feet in length ! By univer-
sal consent, it U the burial place of Joshua, the
martial successor of Moses.
From the notes of travellers, the length must
have varied in different years, since some of
them state it is only twenty feet long. The head
and foot stones, perfectly rough, might be rcadi-
1}' moved backward or forward by a child, and
wherever they are, determines the altitude of the
giant.
Some of the orthodox believers assert that the
grave simply contains one foot of Joshua. That
renowned Jewish hero was never out of Pales-
tine after he entered the land of promise, and
the whole legend, therefore, has grown out of
Tui'kish ignorance, — confounding Joshua with
Jupiter, whose name the Romans left in the re-
gion, in connection with some of their defences.
Notwithstanding tlie often repeated assertion
by tourists that two dervishes perpetually watch
tlie sacred deposit, it is untrue. The only per-
son seen while wo remained on the mountain,
•was the keeper of the smoking shop. Possibly
a community of dervishes may formerly have
had their abode on the holy eminence, but, cer-
tainly, there are none remaining.
Looking from that charming spot, towards
the entrance into the Black Se^, the spectator is
struck with the grandeur and boldness of the
mountain curves, and the richness and inviting
character of the soil. Neglect, not precisely
ruiUj is stamped upon the whole landscape.
A soft, short grass, like a velvet carpet of liv-
ing green, seems interminable; and so deep is
the water, and inviting for commercial enter-
prise, we could not restrain ourselves from ex-
pressing a hope that civilization mi;;ht speedily
place its seal upon those admirable localities for
towns, and unrivalled facilities for human indus-
trial activity.
Off in the vast distance, a few small vcsj^ela
were discoverable, bound to Odessa, Trebi:<ond,
and other ports of less celebrity ; but the re-
sources of the whole region are far beyond esti-
mation, which cannot, in tho nature of things,
much longer bo defended by guns or treaties
from tho grasp of Russia.
One reason why tho.sc very inviting places,
quite to tho lust tongue of land before tJic ex-
panse of the Black Sea commences, arc unoccu-
pied, is in consequence of the insecurity of pro-
perty. Should any one construct conveniences
for landing, open a store, or give evidence of
ambition in the way of accommodation, by some
pretext of the government, he would be inter-
rupted, his property taken out of his control,
and, perhaps, tlie business interdicted.
Never were such facilities offered by nature for
shipyards, docks, and, in short, any pursuit cal-
culated to develop the resources of a country,
while it contributi^d to individual advancement.
But no one has the courage to attempt running
counter to the genius of the government, which
neither aids nor protectsthesubject in any scheme
for personal aggrandizement, independence in
wealth, or influence In society, without secretly
contemplating a blow that shall crush his power,
and turn the avails of his industry into the
cotters of the Sultan.
Of late there has been something of a pater-
nal feeling manifested, and there is certainly a
far greater security for the rights of men, than
under the predecessors of the reigning Sultan.
A triumph like that secured recently by the
Christians, which places them upon the same
level with Mahommcdan believers, in regard to
the possession of property and the maintenance
of their civil rights, has never been achieved by
the Turkish government before, in any period of
its history.
After gaining on the beautiful bills and grace-
ful undulations, capable of the highest state of
productiveness, but now fallen and totally for-
saken, solely from the causes already stated —
the grasping tyrranny of those in authority — the
spectator involuntarily expresses a hope that the
arts of domestic life and the institutions and civil-
ization of Christianity may speedily uproot the
present race of Moslem fatalists.
There is a generous widening of the Bospho-
rus between the Giant's or Joshua's Mountain
and tho European side. A continuous series of
the best harbors imaginable might be selected on
both shores, quite to the Black Sea.
Far in the distance, a few villages could be
discerned, and also, plainly in view of the Rou-
meli Hissar, or castle of Europe, which might
be mistaken for a pair of lighthouses, were such
conveniences established. We never saw a light-
house, to my recollection, from Alexandria,
in Egypt, to Constantinople. If there are any,
they were certainly overlooked for want of lights.
On entering the ancient harbor of the Piraeus,
the port of Athens, in Greece, there are two
lanterns a few rods apart, perhaps twelve feet
high, and those were all that are recollected in
the whole course of our explorations.
Travellers differ exceedingly in their accounts
of the outskirts of Constantinople. One is en-
raptured with the picturesque walks along the
Bosphorus, and the exceeding loveliness and air
of rural contentment that seems to reign over
those little diriy villages, scattered here and
there through the winding valleys at the foot of
the mountain ridges.
Akhaba, ssen in the distance, is spoken of on
account of its chestnuts ; while another, called
Beghos, is celebrated for something else; and
still furtlier on, tlie dwellings reduced by dis-
tance to the appearance of bee hives, stands ■
Sekedere, where there is a medicinal spring, the
character of which stands high among the na-
tives. Several chalybeate fountains in the in-
terior have been analyzed by our countryman.
Dr. Smith, of Charleston, S. C, who was foi'-
merly in Turkey for the purpose of introducing
the culture of cotton.
Sultania was a favorite temporary abode of
some of the old heroic Sultans. The general
of Murad III took all the doors, windows, cush-
ions, and such furniture as he found in the pala-
ces of the cities he had taken in one of his de-
vastating marches, and sent them to this place.
We did not derive as much gratification from
these sights, so poetically dcscriljed by sentimen-
tal tourists, as anticipated, after reading a des-
cription of them. The nearer they are approach-
ed, the more objectionable they are,
A country village in Turkey strongly resem-
bles the Arab towns in Asia Minor. Goats,
dogs, iihh, smoking loungers, veiled, barefooted
women, poultry, perhaps a mosque, and hut for
mnkiiig coifcc, arc the prominent things that at-
tract attention. If there are natural beauties in
the risings and depressions of the land, the utter
neglect with wliieli they ai-e regarded, and the
ineflicieney that cbaratiterizesthe domestic econo-
my of the inhabitants, quite satisfied us that the
art of being comfortable is unknown among ihc
common people everywhere.
^^.^^m
_ EMBASSIES OF CHRISTIAN POWERS. _
NKAur.v every lirst class power in Europe,
and the United Slates, Imve resident ministers
at the Sublime I'orte. Persons residing tempo-
rarily in the city, or, in fact, any part of the Ot-
toman empire, arc considered under the imme-
diate protection of their ambassador, consul or
government agent. They arc not obliged to
pay the haratch, or poll tax, assessed on the na-
tives of the country.
Each legation has several persons attached to
it, acting as interpreters, servants, etc., who arc
absolutely necessary, and who enjoy complete
protection under the flag they serve, however
much the Grand Seignor might wish to bow-
string their necks, although born subjects of his
majesty.
'^ Some idea may be formed of the once haugh-
ty, despotic bearing of the government towards
official messengers from the kings of Europe, by
stating the singular fact that they were frequent-
ly thrown into prison, their lives threatened, and
yet their imperial masters dare not resent the
affront. But the overbearing, despotic sway of
the crescent has passed away, and Turkey is
completely at the mercy of those Christian na-
tions whose prowess was once despised, and
whose solemn embassies were treated with sove-
reign contempt on account of their religion, and
their supposed inferiority in m'litary strength.
• Aehille do Harley, a French ambassador, in
1612, was " grossly insulted," sa^'S the record,
" and menaced with torture by Achmet I." In
1660, another French minister was arrested at
Adiianoplc, by Sultan Ibrahim, and shut up in
the Seven Towers — a horrible prison which we
examined on the outside, while sitting on horse-
back, with no disposition to inspect within,
where every apartment is associated with crimes
and blood of an atrocious character.
Still later, in 1G69, Gabriel dc Guilexagues
was treated as though he were a monster, unde-
serving the tender mercies of the faithful, for
daring to come with a request from the hateful
Christians.
Near the burnt column, there used to be a
shelter designated as Elchy Khan, where the
foreign ambassadors were kept under the eye of
the Grand Vizier.
An Austrian internuncio had the audacity to
peep at some Turkish ladies through a back
window of his dismal public residence, which so
exasperated the Sultan that orders were forth-
with given to build "up a brick wall to obstruct
the view in that direction in future, and His
Highness, the messenger of the emperor, was
thought a lucky fellow to escape so favorably.
An entire change of policy has come over the
humbled govemment of Turkey, and the Chris-
tians now obtain nearly every boon they are dis-
posed to ask. England owns a spacious, costly
ambassadorial palace in Pera, protected against
fanatical mobs, and the most potent enemy to
he contended with in the capital, viz., fire, by a
wall laid in masonry, about twelve feet high,
enclosing an extensive plot of ground. It has
been occupied by Sir Stratford Canning many
years, the man of all others, who best under-
stands negotiating with that court.
The French government have also erected a
Ycry beautiful and extensive palace, not far from
the British ; but the locality is unfortunate, —
under tho brow of a hill, on the top of which
runs a tolerable kind of street as regards width,
giving the enclosure a chance to be stoned or
otherwise assaulted b}' infuriated disciples of the
Prophet. We were gratified with the cuhivated
taste evinced in the arrangement of flower beds
and shrubbery. There is also a Russian and,
perhaps, Austrian palace for the representatives
of these monarchies, but the particulars relating
to them are rot recalled, if seen at all.
No provision has yet been made for the
American minister. He resides some miles up
the Bosphorus, and comes down to an office at
Pera, where business is transacted. The secre-
tary of the legation is Mr. Holmes, of Boston,
an obliging, attentive man to those of bis coun-
trymen who ^isit Constantinople. He was for-
merly connected with the American Board of
Foreign Missions, but had kft the connection
before our arrival. Through liim the business
was transacted with tlie government for the libe-
ration of Kossuth, who was a prisoner at Kuta-
ya, five days' journey from Constantinople. It
is a famous antiquity— the castle, a mighty pri-
son for strength, being on the extreme terminus
of a hill overlooking tho town.
I made some slight preparations fir paying
the Hungarian hero a visit, but fearir.g that the
Austrian ambassador's spies would so mark my
movements that it would be impossible to escape
police scrutiny on arriving a^ Trieste, that might
lead to being ordered to quit the emperor's do-
minions, I thought it most prudent to relinquish
the enterprise. However, 1 addressed Governor
Kossuth a note, which, he informed me on his
arrival in Boston, was received by him, too laic,
however, to answer the object in view by thus
addressing him.
Consuls are quartered in Pera wherever they
can obtain the best locations for their business,
which, I am constrained to say, as far us wc
could discover, consists in fleecing their inexpe-
rienced countrymen.
Constantinople, however, instead of having an
American born citizen to sustain the office of
consul, is shamefully misrepresented by a man
who cares a thousand times more for his own
pocket than the curses of American travellers.
Under other circumstances, I have fearlessly de-
clared, that the American consuls, in many ports
of Europe, and certainly in certain ports of Asia
and Africa, are infamous rascals, who deserve
punishment for oppressive treatment towards
those whom it is their duty to aid by their coun-
sel and advice, besides giving safe conduct with-
in their jurisdiction''.
Not a single French or Austrian steamer will
take a passenger from Constantinople for Eu-
rope, till his passport has first been signed, if tho
applicant is from America, by the consul. Then
the Austrian or Frenchman signs it, and both
extract an unrighteous fee ; but the American
takes two dollars where the other demands half
a dollar. From an opinion that all our consuls
are in collusion with the local police of towns in
Italy, and their brother chips at the points at
which they are themselves stationed, to spunge
as much as possible for evcTj passer-by, we used
to thank Heaven in loud acclamations on arriv-
ing at a spot where there was no American con-
sul, to rob us under cover of the wings of our
eagle.
I should unquestionably have entertained
rather different sentiments towards these licensed
leeches, had they been my countrymen ; but to
be thus treated by an official who has no sympa-
thy for the United States, who, perhaps, never
set a foot on the continent, or could read or write
the English language, makes one deplore the
political corruption of the day, that such fellows,
for some service they render somebody behind
the screen, are first recommended and then com-
missioned at Washington.
Our ambassadors and charges d'affairs must
know to what vile purposes the consulates are
often prostituted; but it appears to me, for some
unknown reason, they are afraid to stop them in
their career of iniquity, or displace them, how-
ever obnoxious they may prove.
There is not a Christian power on the globe
that pays its' foreign servants so meanly as ours.
Not a single one in Europe has enough to pay
his necessary expenses, without leaving him a
dollar for hospitality or civility. They are
cramped in their means, and not unfrequently
excite both the pity and contempt of travellers,
because our rich republic is so mean, and the
commiseration of those standing upon the same
official level.
England pays all her consuls generously, and
pensions most of them after a service of fifteen
years, and never commissions any but a British
subject.
On the other hand, the United States pay
nothing, but virtually gives ihem leave to get
what they can, provided they filch all they have
from Americans.
In the next place, it appears to be of no con-
sequence from what country their consuls hail,
or whether they ever heard of the government
they disgrace. Every traveller in the East knows
that it makes their blood boil with indignation
to contemplate this prostitution of an imjaortant
office to the caprice of those who may be clothed
with tho appointing power. Unfortunately some
of our own citizens, sent abroad with consular
authority, are worse than the o'hcr kind. Broken
down politicians are thus paid for their stump-
ing services for a party, and reckless of all con-
sequence, having neither character nor pro^ierty
to lose, they prey on all who come within tho
reach of ihcir tentacuhu.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
395
The American envoy and ministei' resident
receives six thousand dollars per annum, at
Constantinople; while the British minister's ex-
penses rarely faU below twenty thousand pounds
sterling a year, exclusive of the money put at
his disposal for secret service. Then there is a
consul-general, vice-consuls, and a host of per-
sons connected with the chancery, also paid by
the home government, costing twenty-four
thousand pounds more, each and every year
they are there.
Still further, the English parliament meets
stiJl another class of heavy expenditures con-
nected with the Turkish mission. Despatches
are frequently sent on by an express steamer, at
a cost, upon an average, of fifty-liTC pounds each
for coals alone, amounting in round numbers,
from Marseilles, by the way of Malta and back
again, to full nine hundred pounds more !
If possible, the Kussian embassy, at Constan-
tinople, is still more expensive than the English,
being composed of about thirty, acting in all
imaginary high capacities, which disburses enor-
mous sums in bribes, besides its legitimate ex-
penditures. As the Czar fully intends to possess
himself of the only jewel within his grasp worthy
of his consideration, it requires a singular com-
bination of diplomatic machinery and naval ap-
paratus in the Black Sea, to keep in actual readi-
ness to take possession whenever the prize di^ops
into his lap
Still, it strikes me that Nicholas \yill never
live long enough to realize his ambitious hopes.
Those lean apologies for embassies, represent-
ed by a profusion of stars and ribbons, instead
of menial vigor or demonstrations of resources
by the occasional visit up the Dardanelles, which
are sent from the second rate sovereignties of
Europe, are not worth naming. They play the
small parts on the stage of nations, like chamber-
maids and upper servants in the theatre : they
assist in making a show, without materially in-
fluencing the deliberations of either party, or
effecting anything for themselves."
When the subjects of foreign governments, re-
siding in Turkey, involve themselves in debt,
commit crimes, orstand charged with delinquen-
cies, if not forthwith given over to their minis-
ters, they are demanded to be sent home for trial.
A Turkish jail is without a parallel for discom-
fort, filth, vermin, and concentrated human
misery.
An interesting story is related of Izet Mehem-
et, who Avas Grand Vizier in 1841, but degraded
by dismissal from office, and exiled afterward,
that shows there may be sympathy and a sti'ong
sense of justice in the heart of a Turk,
Being repeatedly assured that the imprisoned
debtors in the prison of Constantinople were
harshly treated, and cheated out of the rations
appropriated by law, he dressed himself in mean
apparel, one evening, and stalked into one of the
common smoking coffee rooms contiguous to the
jail, or Zuidan Kapoossy. By proper manage-
ment, he persuaded a poor fellow with whom he
fell into conversation, by giving Iiim a suitable
backsheish, to accompany his highness to a
guard-house, and assert that he was a debtor to
his ragged companion.
Calling the Bashy, or captain of the guard,
aside, he pointed out Izet. " Do you see him V
inquired the hired stranger. " Yes, and an ugly
looking fellow he is, too !" Suffice it, the Sa-
drazan, the prime minister of the empire, was
arrested, and speedily incarcerated in the vile
hole where the wretched, unfortunate, and all
kinds of criminals, were huddled together in one
common pit of misery, because he refused to
pay for a better apartment. One broken pitcher
and one mat was all their furniture. When the
key-keeper came after evening, the vizier be-
sought him for something to eat. Bread and
soup he reminded him were provided by the Sul-
tan, that no one should suifer the pangs of
hunger.
This made the villain only laugh. " We give
no food to those who do not pay," was the reply.
Finding nothing could be had by appealing to
his sense of duty, as an officer acting under au-
thority of the Grand Vizier, he then handed the
turnkey sixty paras for the purchase of some
bread and water; for which he gave poor bread
and but little water. A long dialogue ensued,
in which the official had his daily line of con-
duct portrayed ; but it only provoked a smile of
derision, that a low prisoner should undertake to
teach him his responsibilities.
Lastly, as he was going out.to cl.Q5e4;he door,
he raised the bull's hide whip — always-ln his
hand, — and threatened to gi^■e the-hC-rt' cbiier a
sound flogging if he presumed to say another
word!
Eoused to a pitch of almost insupportable
rage, the vizier drew forth the evidence of his
great rank — the jeweled nishan, and in a tre-
mendous effort of lungs, called for the governor
of the prison.
Astonishment overcame both the associate
prisoners as well as the impudent, selfish key-bear-
er, who recognized in an instant the awful abyss
beneath his feet. He fell upon bis face and
cried, " Mercy, mercy!" It would be a narra-
tion too long for this occasion to detail all the
circumstances that followed in quick succession.
When the governor, with his turbaned attendants,
came in, the vizier gazed at the group with a
keenness of the eye that pierced them to the
heart, and ordered them to show him the whole
establishment at once.
Having finished the inspection, he directed
every one of the turnkeys to receive one hun-
dred strokes of the bastinado, then sent the gov-
ernor to the batli to be sweated, and afterwards
dealt with as he deserved; while the captain of
the guard who arrested him, because he was
bribed to do it, without evidence of his being a
debtor, was cashiered and placed in confinement
where he had sent many others wrongfully.
DARDANELLES.
That alternately widening and naiTOwing of
the water way between Constantinople and
Smyrna, which, at some points, resembles a
broad river, and then again expands beyond the
limits of vision, embracing a variety of bays,
islands and localities of ancient renown, is desig-
nated as the Dardanelles. The name was taken
from Dardanum, now a tolerable sized Turkish
town, with more indications, of prosperity than
usually appertain to them.
It ii on the Asiatic side, has quite a number
of landing places, a quarantine office, one long
street wide enough for a carriage, quite a num-
ber of provision and grocery shops, a yard for
building boats and small vessels, and is, besides,
dignified by having both an English and French
consul residing there.
It is 240 miles from Constantinople to Smyrna,
through the Dardanelles. Every mile of the
distance is associated with historical events of
antiquity. Every island has been a theatre of
exploits, and the shores are classical ground.
While we were detained at the different call-
ing places for the despatches of the several con-
suls, who were making up parcels for their gov-
ernments, to be conveyed by the steamer, the
opportunity was ordinarily improved in recon-
noitering the region, and searching out ruins.
This same spot was once the capital of a king-
dom, but no memorial of its glory can be detect-
ed, unless a barrow, or mound of earth standing
some way back in a field, belongs to the age of
its greatness. It was at Dardanum that we saw
a negro in the management of a row boat, who
was such a monster of fatness that he was an ob-
ject of profound astonishment. How the blood
could be propelled through those vast winrows
of blubber, by a single heart, might with pro-
priety engage the grave consideration of a
physiologist.
The mound of Hecuba is the most prominent
of the ancient things, which strangers, of course,
take pains to see. By the Turks, the old town
of Dardum, or DarJanum, is now known as
Chaiiak. Some speculations have been thrown
out by topographical scholars in regard to the
exact site of Ahydos. But the wear and friction
of ages upon ages have quite obliterated every
remnant of its being, so that even tradition points
no finger towards its locality.
Generally there is somebody on board the
steamer sufficiently familiar with tbe scenery to
indicate where the bridge of Xerxes stood; where
Alexander the Great's army crossed over into
Asia, and to particularize points of romantic in-
terest of less note. Singular as it may appear,
Solyman, in 1300, selected the same place for
boating the Ottoman forces over into Europe,
and there he raised the ensign of the Mussulman
power for the first time on a new continent, from
which it has not yet been dislodged.
Some formidable castles are seen in the course
of the Dardanelles, originally the Hellespont,
which appear to be powerful enough to prevent
any fleet from passing. They are placed on
either side, Europe and Asia^ — for this irregular
aquatic roadstead divides the two continents.
We saw where Leander swam across to visit his
mistress, a feat which Byron also accomplished.
An extraordinary fttrtress' on tlTc route gains
the special attention of travellers, from the cir-
cumstance that the outer wall actually describes
the figure of a heart on a playing card. Being
on a descent towards the water, and built on the
European side, the back elevation is sufficient to
give a complete view of the rural enclosure. Of
course, all the forts are strongly fortified, and
manned by heavy guns, many of which throw
stone balls.
SMYKWA.
Weiie it not for being in the track from Syria
to Constantinople, the starting point also for the
Grecian Islands and Athens, and the principal
post in Turkey with which American merchants
hold a direct commercial intercourse, Smyrna
would hardly have received the attention in this
notice, which is obviously due to its past renown
and present importance.
The plan contemplated in these sketches by
no means embraces a modern gazetteer of the
Sultan's dominions. If it did, more than one
hundred towns, scarcely known to us even by
name, would have claims to remembrance on
the score of former consideration, before the
Turks ever had possession of the beautiful coun-
try, whose destiny is under their control, till Provi-
dence 1ms accomplished through their instrumen-
tality the designs that belong to the counsels of
the Sovereign Disposer of events.
Formerly there were turbulent disputes as to
the founder of the city. Whoever first selected
it for a town, exercised a sound judgment, for
Smyrna has all the advantages of a magnificent
bay, deep water, a fruitful region, a delightful
climate, and whatever else may be necessary for
progress in business, wealth and influence.
Smyrna is on the Asiatic shore, splendidly
protected by graceful elevations, and possesses
within itself the elements of incalculable com-
mercial power, whenever the Anglo Saxons
take it under their care.
Old houses, old forts, old ruins, old women,
and old gray-bearded Jews, are among its curi-
osities. The streets are narrow, not remarkably
clean, and filled with human beings. All the
world i? represented in the bazaars by products
from all lands.
Jews abound; some of them are notorious
cheats, but they are links in the chain of society
not easily dispensed with, notwithstanding the
contempt with which they are generally held.
By climbing up a tremendously steep hiU,
back of the town, a lovely panoi amic view is ob-
tained over distant islands, capes and bays. An
immensely large enclosure — the ruined fortress,
no doubt the site of the ancient Acropolis, —
marks the place where Polycarp was martyred,
a disciple of the Apostles.
Looking to the south, the ground on which
stood one of the seven churches of Asia, of apos-
tolic antiquity, is designated, off in a partially
cultivated field, perhaps a mile and a half from
the city.
All the most compact and business part, where
the population is the densest, the ground is flat,
and. in fact, some portions of it, cultivated as
gardens, seen from the dilapidated fortress, the
enclosures appear even below the common level
of the section built upon.
There is a favorite residence for Europeans
doing business in Smyrna, called Bournabat, a
pleasant ride, that constitutes one of the crown-
ing rural beauties of the modern port.
Smyrna is one of the reputed birth-places of
Homer. We shall ever retain a vivid recollec-
tion of its beauties and discomforts, from the
circumstance of being plunged into a vile qua-
rantine hole, to doze away five days of precious
life, although in perfect health, and the vessel,
an Austrian steamer which brought us from
Beiroot, was without a taint.
A more shamefully unrighteous exaction was
never made, than taking a heavy fte out of every
foreigner whom the government obliges to pass
from the vessel into ihe walled yard, to wear
away the time. Sick or well, every one is com-
pelled to look out for himself, or starve. Neither
food, beds nor medicine are brought in, unless
the individual for whom they are designed has
the money to pay down.
On receiving fratique, that is, a pass to go
out, either into the city, or proceed onward to
Constantinople, a fee is to be paid into the coffers
of the Sultan. If a person, thus incarcerated,
were to sleep on the bare ground, tlie rent would
be exacted with equal rigor; and if some poor
Arab, Jew, or Armenian, has nothing to pay
with, he is detained, till, through the S3'mpathy
of his own countrymen, the cash is raised.
We were lodged in the upper story of a largo
building, without a single article of furniture
that was not hired of an Italian tavern-keeper,
who furnished us with two meals a day. He, of
course, took advantage of our condition to pock-
et an honest penny. Cooks, waiters, in short,
whoever he employed in any menial capacity to
keep from starvation, came in with a demand
for service. Even several bare-legged Turks,
who were spies upon our movements in the yard,
walking about with sticks to keep us from touch-
ing those who had been in longer or shorter than
ourselves, called oul: lustily for backsheish ; for all
the compensation they had was what they could
raise out of those they were perpetually harass-
ing and annojing by their presence.
Smyrna has also two large hotels, but the one
nearest the harbor is most patronized by travel-
lers. Dinner is served much as at the hotels of
Germany, and the expense is two dollars a day.
After taking quarters and depositing luggage, it
is customary to take a guide, dozens of whom
are always sauntering about the doorway, eager
for a job.
We took a tall, bushy-headed Jew, whose tur-
ban almost rivalled a haycock in size, who turn-
ed out to be a deceitful, dishonest knave. There
are runners in abundance who intercept stran-
gers, strongly recommending certain lodgings as
being desirable on account of location and econo-
my, for whiL-h they get a handsome percentage.
Abraham told a whopping lie to secure our
patronage, by saying, our countryman, a gentle-
man who had preceded us by about a week, had
left special directions for him to wait upon us.
Such politeness led at once to an engagement.
However, he was subsequently dismissed in
disgrace.
The Turks seem to destroy whatever belongs
to them. They are so entirely selfish, bigoted
and absolute, that they are beyond improvement.
A more magnificent opportunity was never pre-
sented for securing a trade that would enrich all
Turkey, while the resources of the country might
be developed, than by constructing warehouses,
widening streets, and abolishing the laws which
are at war with the principles of trade.
Of ancient Anatolia, Smyrna was the focus of
wealth, business and knowledge. It was said to
be the ornament, the city of renovation, having
been often destroyed, and as frequently rebuilt.
Ten times, on the authority of historians, has
Smyrna been rebuilt, and on each occasion was
improved by the disaster. Like Alexandria in
Eg}-pt, Alexander the Great has the reputation
of having commenced the first foundations.
By some inexplicable hocus pocus, contrary to
our usual foresight, we followed the Jew guide
to a hotel, which he represented as altogether
superior to all others, but which proved to be a
rickety, filthy old house, variously patched,
elongated and improved by extra steps, doors
and iron bedsteads.
As the luggage preceded us, and had been
partially stowed away, it was thought best, on
the whole, to remain over night, notwithstand-
ing the bad first impression. Next morning, on
giving notice we were to leave, a perfect uproar
commenced among those who had an interest in
the vile Greek establishment. An old woman,
who appeared to be general in command, pre-
sented exorbitant bills. One gentleman de-
clared that he never would pay it. She, on the
other hand, stated the disappointment, the cost
of the dinner she had purchased for the day, ex-
pecting all to remain, and lastly, secured herself
against all losses by detaining his trunks. We
offered to pay for the marketing jointly, and do
other acts that would leave no stain upon her
reputation. No proposition was of nny avail,
short of promptly paying up for the period we
contemplated to remain on our arrival.
The absurdity of the demand induced the
party to delegate one of the number to complain
at the police ofiice, if there was one in the town.
No sooner had this intelligence penetrated the
skulls of the household, than through the spokes-
man, the big old woman, the cun-ent of events
was changed, the luggage given up, and the bills
settled at once on tolerably equitable terms.
Fear overruled a sense of justice. This affair
was no sooner ended than the greasy Israelite
came in with a complaint of the damage he
should sustain by our leaving. He. might have
continued his solemn argument in favor of a
claim for backsheish, had we not brought the
interview abruptly to a close. After various
petty difficulties, we were ultimately emancipa-
ted from the clutches of the unprincipled Greek
rascals.
396
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWING llOOM COMPANION.
HUNTING SCENES.
We present herewith a series of sporting scenes, as being scas-
onablu and attractive. The first picture represents the hare at
full speed, liis pursuers are after him, thou};h they have not yet
come in view. These animals are found in nearly every part ot
the world, and just at this season our markets show a t;ooiUy
array of them, the result of the sportsman's skill. They form a
very rich and palatable dish, under the hands of a skilful cook.
The bare runs by a kind of leapinp movement or pace, and in
walking, uses the feet as far as the heel. The tail is either very
short, or almost entirely wanting, The Eiuropean hare is found
throughout Europe, and some parts of Asia. The color of this
.^>.<^^'
^., ' >S'
HUNTEK LEAPING A DITCH.
species is of a tawny red on the back and sides, and white on the
belly. The cars, which are very long, are tipped with black ; the
eyes are very large and prominent. The length of this animal is
about two feet, and, when fullgrown,itweighssix to eight pounds.
It is a watchful, timid creature, always lean, and, from the form
of its legs, runs swifter up hill than on level ground. Hares feed
PACK IN lULL CR\.
on vegetables, and are very fond of the bark ot young trees ; their
favorite food, however, is parsley. Their flesh was forbidden to
be eaten among the Jews and the ancient Britons, whilst the Ro-
mans, on the contrary, held it in great esteem. The flesh is now
much prized for its peculiar flavor, though it is very black, dry,
and devoid of fat.
HARE IN FULL RUN.
It is cnrions that the voice of the bare is never heard but when
it is seized or wounded. At such times, it utters a sharp, loud
cry, not very unlike that of a child. It has a remarkable instinct
in escaping from its enemies ; and many instances of the surpris-
ing sagacity of these animals are on record, though it appears
that all of them do not possess equal experience and cunning. A
perpetual war is carried on against them by cats, wolves, and
birds of prey ; and even man makes use of every artifice to entrap
these defenceless and timid creatures. They are easily tamed,
but never attain such a degree of attachment as renders ihcm do-
mestic, always availing themselves of the first opportunity to es
cape. Among the devices of hares to elude their pursuers, the
following have been observed : getting up into a hollow tree, or
upon ruined walls ; throwing themselves into a river, and floating
down some distance ; or swimming out into a lake, keeping only
their nose above the surface ; returning on their own scent, etc.
The American hare, so well known under the name of rahb'U^ is
found in most parts of North America. The summer hair is dark
brown on the upper part of the head, lighter on the sides, and of
an ash color below ; the ears are Avide, edged with white, tipped
with brown, and dark colored on their back; tail, dark above,
white beneath, having the inferior surface turned up ; the fore legs
are shorter and the binder longer in proportion than those of the
European. In the Middle and Southern States, the change in
the color of the hair is by no means as remarkable as it is farther
north. This species is from fourteen to eighteen inches long.
The American hare generally keeps within its form during the
day, feeding only in the morning or at night. The flesh is in its
prime late in the autumn and in the winter. The hare is not
hunted in this country as in Europe, but is generally
roused by a dog, and shot or caught by means of a
common box trap ; this latter is the most usual mode.
In its gait, it is very similar to the European, leaping
rather than running. Like that animal, it breeds sev-
eral times during the year. There are several other
species of the hare inhabiting North America, of which
the most remarkable is the polar hare. This occurs
iu vast numbers towards the extreme northern part
of the continent. It is larger than the common hare.
The fur is exceedingly thick and woolly, of the purest
white in the cold months, with the exception of a
tuft of long black hair at the tip of the ears. In sum-
mer, the hair becomes of a grayish brown. — Our sec-
ond picture represents a sportsman, well mounted, in
hot pursuit of the game, and leaping a fence or ditch.
This is a most common occurrence in Europe ; the
horses are well trained, and taught to leap anything at which the
rider directs them, and some perform prodigious feats of leaping,
both in distance and height. This sport is little practised in our
country, at least not in the Eastern and Middle States — at the ex-
treme South, as well as in Canadi, it is more in vogue. — The
third picture represents a pack of hounds in full cry, far in ad-
TOP OF THE EARTH.
Thirteen thousand seven hundred and twenty
ftet above the level of the sea ! At a perpendi-
cular elevation of upwards of two miles and a
half, nearly on the snow Andes, stands the top-
most city of the earth, Ceno de Pasco. It is the
capital of the richest silver district in Peru. In
the shops of Pasco are found the richest products
of all countries. Bass's pale ale is in high favor
here, and knives and forks carry the stamp of
Sheffield cutlers. I remember being pleasantly
surprised in a shepherd's hut on the Puna, at
having placed before me some boiled maize on a
plate ornamented with a picture of John Ander-
son my Joe and his gude wife, with two verses
of the song beneath it. The Indian was delight-
ed at the pleasure I took in the plate, and was
solicitous to have the lines translated. The taste
for gambling, so prevalent throughout South
America, is most strongly developed at Ceno de
Pasco. Public lotteries are drawn every week,
and sometimes every day in the week. The
streets are continually infested by fellows crying,
" A thousand dollars to-morrow !" These men
carry books, from which they tear, for each cus-
tomer, a ticket, price one shilling, giving him or
her a chance in the next lottery. The prize is
sometimes as large as five thousand dollars, with
intermediate ones of smaller amount. I believe
that the strictest impartiality and fairness cha-
racterize the drawing. All these lotteries are
under government control. The billiard and
montero tables are in constant request; domi-
noes is a fiivorite game in the cafes, hut those
games at cards, which are rapid in their results,
and depend wholly upon chance, have irresisti-
ble attractions for all classes. The shaven priest,
decorated with cross and rosary, may be fre-
quently seen playing with the ragged Indian ;
and instances are told of the wealthy mine pro-
prietor losing in a night every dollar he pos-
sessed, to one of his own ragged men. The
cockpit is a favorite amusement. The comba-
tants are armed with one spur only; this is aflat,
curved, two edged blade, very keen, and finely
pointed. The first blow commonly decides the
battle, and both cocks are often killed. Hun-
dreds of dollars change hands every minute, and
the excitement of the betters is intense, and even
here, on the afternoon of the Sabbath, which is
especially appropriated to the cock fight, the
priest hands around the begging box, or lays his
dollar on a favorite bird. — Household Words,
vanccof the sportsman, and steadily bent on running down the
deer, which they may be, or fox or hare. A pack in full cry has
been the theme of many a poem ; their innaic thrills the sportsman's
heart, and is exciting to the mo.st indififerent and stoical. — Our
fourth engraving represcnla the head of a hound, and a fine, natu-
ral piece of drawing it is. Who cannot read intelligence in the
sagacious expression of those eyes? who can decide where instinct
ends, and reason begins, in the actuating motive of this noble ani-
mal? His attachment to his master is proverbial; Iiis fieetnesa,
docility, and endurance has passed into a proverb, and his useful-
ness has long been an established fact. In nearly every country
the sagacity and fidelity of the dog has made him the friend and
companion of man, and the cheerful partaker of his fortunes. In
the pursuit of the chase, and in the avocations of more domestic
life, he has ev«r
been the atten-
dant of the hu-
man species,
andscarcelyany
other animal
has been made
more useful, or
been employed
to better advan-
tage. Anec-
dotes of his cou-
rage, and in-
stinctive reas-
onings abound
to an unlimited
extent, and vol-
umes might be
addtd to tho:;e
heretofore giv- HEAD OF A HOUND,
en on these
points. — The fifth engraving represents a couple of deer, fleeing
swiftly as the wind. The buck has just scented the far-off hunter
and pack. The picture reminds us of Scott's lines ;
" The Htap at eve nad (irunk hifl fill,
AVherp dancni the moon on Monans rill,
And deep his midnight lair had mada
In lono Glonartney'f haz«l shade;
But ere the sun his beacon red
Had kindled on BenToirlirh 8 head,
The deep-mouthed b!oodhound"B heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky w.iy,
And faint from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn 1"
When turned to bay, the buck will fight desperately, and often-
times wound both hunter and dogs seriously. But the sport to
those accus-
/
tomed to it is
of the most
exciting char
acter, and is
largely fol
lowed in our
country at
the extreme
north and
south. The
deer is pos
sesaedofkeen
senses, espe
cially hearing
and smelling
the sight,
though good, does not appear to equal in power the senses just
named. It is necessary for a hunter to approach a deer against
the wind, otherwise he is discovered by the scent. The slightest
noise appears to excite its fears more than any other cause ;
while, on the contrary, the sight of accustomed objects seems rather
to arouse curiosity than produce terror.
^\ IV
vyr \
DELI. SCLNTING Tilt CHASE.
OSMANLI, THE MAMELUKE, [8c« Btory cntUUa "Tho Mumoluko."]
MR. WEBSTER AS A FAR3IER.
Mr. Webster's property, landed and personal,
is pretty large. His stock upon his farm has very
great value. We have never seen the man who
could give such an interesting and complete dis-
quisition in relation to his domestic animals. He
was not more quick to apprehend the most hid-
den point in law, or casuistry, or logic, and to
turn it over in all its bearings and relations, than
at a glance to read the character and qualities of
cattle. He seemed to have a passion for good
farm stock. He was once showing a few friends
over his wide domain at Marshfield, and point-
ing out his animals, when, upon reaching a field
upon which an hundred head of cattle were feed-
ing, he stopped, and stood gazing at them some
moments before speaking. He appeared to dote
over them. — "There," said he, pointing to a
small animal lying down, " there is a cow that I
will put against even yours in New Braintree or
Barre. She is of the Ayrshire and Devon, was
five years old in June, and since the 24th day of
May last she has yielded — pounds of milk at
night and — pounds in the morning ;" and so he
continued in relation to any other about which
he was questioned. " Happy the man," said he,
" who can say as the Duke of Devon did to me —
* that he knew his name would live and have a
place in the realm so long as good cattle should
exist in England.' "
It is a singular coincidence that almost the
last letter Mr. Webster wrote with his own hand,
only four days before his fatal attack, was to Mr.
Stetson, of the Astor House, in relation to this
favorite subject of his care and attention. His
attachment to this pursuit was noble. He al-
most lived out of doors, when at home. He
watched and studied every department of agri-
culture with a devotion that was equally a de-
light. These thoughts never left him, and even
in his last sickness he had much to say about his
plans in this pursuit. With Mr. Webster, tliis
subject was endeared to him by his piotracted
experimental exertions to improve the agricul-
ture of his country. In its prosecution, as at
once a recreation from public cares and a daty
to his countrymen, he became attached to the
fine animals upon his fields, in a manner which
charmingly illustrates the simplicity of his nature.
In one of the days of his illness, it is said, he sat
np, supported, by a friend, and looked out with
interest oa his herds, which had been driven up
Dettrthajnaaaioa,at his request. — Worcester J^ia,
GLEASONS PICTORIAL DRAWING -llOOM C03IPANI0N.
397
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOU, Editor.
CONTEKTS OF OUR NEXT NU3IBER.
" Memento Tivorum," a story of a Pope's Common
Place Book, by Augustine J. H. Duganbe.
" The Two Wills," a highly interesting story, by Mrs.
*' The Way to Washington," No. R', by Ben: Peelet
POOEE.
" Turkey and the Turks." No. XVI, relating to Smyrna,
etc., by Dr. .Iebome T. C. Smith.
"The Universal Genius," a story, by Dr. J. H. Rob-
inson.
'' Song of the Pilgrim of the Alps," by T. Buchanan
Read.
"Rhyme of the Autumn Rain," by Alice Caret.
"The JuDiata Talley," lines, by Lt E Cdrtiss Hike.
"The Stars." lines, by Joseph H. Butlee
"Jack Profit," verses, bv J- Stair Hollowat.
"Friendship," lines, by Mrs. R T Eldredge
"The Blind Boy's Dream," verses, by Mrs. Saeah E.
Dawes
ILLTTSTBATIONS.
We phall present a large and beautiful allegorical pic-
ture by Billings, of Christmas, a seasonable and excellent
scene.
A fine maritime picture representing the new Egyptian
fiteam frigat*, named the " Faid Gihaad," now in the har-
bor of Alexandria.
A picture reprcKentin^ the scene of the commencement
of the first railroad in Brazil.
A portrait of the famous Abd-el-Kader, now the lion of
the French capital.
A view of (he castle of Pau, the late prison of the illus-
trious Abd-el-Kader.
A very excellent picture of Grace Church, New York,
by our artist, Mr. Wade.
\ picture of the Alms House on Deer Island, Boston
harbor, by our artist, Mr. Mallonj.
V maritime picture, rep reifen ting a scene on the North
River, with canal boats, etc., by our arti?t, Mr. Wade.
A fac simile of the large and valuable gold rine pre-
cented to the president elect. Frank Pierce, by the citizens
of San Francisco, will be given, drawn by our artist, Mr.
Cliapin,
Trinity Church, New York, will be very finely and per-
fectly represented by our artist, Mr. Wade.
A large, full page picture representing thnt interesting
subject and most timely Iheme, a Christmas Tree.
A. very excellent picture representing the new and novel
bridge, prepared by Mr. Genin, to span Broadway, New
York, from his store to St. Paul's Church.
THE CABINET.
We observe that the press is very busy in form-
ing General Pierce's Cabinet for him. Among
other names of prominfnt men of the rountry,
we observe that of Charles Gordon Greene, of
the Boston Post, as likely to be called to Wash-
ington as one of the cabinet of President Pierce.
We know no more of the matter than others ;
but this we do know, that Mr. Greene is not
only eminently qualified for such an appoint-
ment, but that, aside from his universal popular-
ity, his unequalled services to the Democratic
party entitle him to its highest honors.
SPHNTEES.
.... A New York manager offers Mile. Ra-
chel 850,000 for one year's engagement here.
How long would England put up with
the nonsense our government bears from Spain?
.... It is stated the ex-Emperor of Austria
has been seized with apoplexy.
Sontag has rented a private house in
New York, which she will occupy this winter.
.... Mr Bunn, the ex-mauager of Drury
Lane, is very popular in Boston and vicinity.
It is proposed to greatly enlarge Fanenil
Hall ; a very proper idea. Carry it out.
.... Kossuth and Mazzini lately addressed
the friends of liberty in London.
Bayard Taylor was last heard from as
being in London. He was going to Spain.
We are sorry to learn of the serious in-
disposition of Prentice, the poet editor.
Mr. Chickering, of this city, receives uni-
versal sympathy for his late loss by fire.
The Evening Gaze'tte says that Sontag
realized S10,000 profit by her visit to Boston.
Can't some one pat a stop to the insane
taste for negro literature 1 It's sickening.
Mr. James T. Fields is announced to
lecture before the Mercantile Library Association.
We are sick enough at the wholesale
flattery bestowed upon public performers.
Was Mr. Choate's/>er/br7HaHce before the
Mercantile Library worthyofhim? Wethinknot.
A jcompany of Chinese theatrical per-
formeris are now in New York city.
Mr. Hillard's failing is "excessive use of
^figurative language," a fault he himself alludes to.
WIA'IER EVENINGS.
The long winter evenings are upon us ; the
sun goes to bed early and gets up late. Scarce-
ly have we finished dinner, scarcely indulged in
a little pleasant chat over the table, ere his broad
disk dips beneath the horizon, and the brief gold-
en twilight is followed by the footsteps of dusky
night. But these long evenings are a blessing
to all classes, abridging as they do the hours of
labor to most men. The teamster puts up his
horses, and earlier sits down to bis frugal meal ;
while the shipwright earlier leaves his labor on
the leviathan destined proudly to carry the stars
and stripes over the mountain waves of ocean,
and thus the commercial quarters of the city are
quieted, and prematurely hashed.
But the inhabited parts of the town awake to
a life, stranger, more exhilarating, more brilliant
than that of day. Gas follows hard on the heels
of sunlight; palace like stores pour forth their
effulgence on the populous streets ; the roar of
carriage wheels shakes the pavements ; and the
theatres blaze up with sudden illumination. The
confectionary saloons are very inviting in appear-
ance ; lecture rooms yawn and engulph enormous
crowds. Later yet the mansions of the rich be-
come one blaze of light. Through the plate
glass windows you descry fairy forms of sarpass-
ing loveliness gliding through the mazes of the
dance, flower-crowned, blooming, laughing, ex-
ultant, to the sound of mu«ic, that might wile
away a peri from the gates of Paradise.
Stiy ! What is that pale form that lingers by
the granite doorway, resting feebly against the
huge stone Hon that seems to guard the portal ?
The snow is on the ground, yet a torn shoe
hardly protects the little foot from its piercing
coldness. It is a poor little match-girl. Weary
of offering her wares to pre occupied persons in
the street, she has thought (in the simplicity of
her young heart ! ) that here, at the door of wealth,
where thousands were being lavished for a few
hours' enjoyment, where diamonds were glitter-
ing in handsfuU, and orange flowers bloomed in
the artificial summer atmosphere, a few pence
might be bestowed on her who came, not as a
beggar, but as an honest vender of humble
merchandize.
Perhaps she deemed that the lady or gentle-
man of the house might purchase her whole
stock in trade — it is only a ninepence worth, —
and then what a nice supper of bread she would
be able to take home to her sick mother and lit-
tle crippled sister ! But, alas ! all her hopes
have been dashed to the ground. Contrary to
her expectations, the lady of the house is not in
the habit of answering the door-bell, and the
surly footman has rudely thrust her away; while
a grim policem.-.n eyes her from the sidewalk, as
much as to say, " You have no business here !"
Yet she lingers near that sunny paradise, and
thinks how warm and fiappy the people must be
who live there !
Alas! Poor child! hearts may ache beneath
satin and velvet, as bitterly as beneath ragged
calico, and you have many a time eaten a hard
cvust with more relish than they have partaken
of the daintiest fare served on golden plates.
And sometime, if your little feet again stray
hither, you'shall see the windows darkened, and
a mournful procession shall issue forth, bearing,
perchance, its loveliest inmate, motionless,
breathless, to her last narrow abiding place !
And, Jiereajier, when all these things have
passed away, and the golden gates of a mansion,
far more glorious than this, are opened to all,
amidst the radiant myriads that throng around
the Throne of Grace, thou shalt as surely have
thy place as the happiest and loveliest thine eyes
behold to-night !
Splendid Tebtimonial. — The artists of the United States
have juflt presented to Mr. Qleason, publisher of Glea-
son's Fictorial, a very beautiful service of plate, manufiic-
tured by Messrs. Ball, Black & Co , New York, consisting
of seven elegantly chafed pieces, of various dimensions,
the largest being some twenty inches in height. The
whole stated on a large massive salver. There is a great
amount of silver conttiined in these articles. The inscrip-
tion on tlje plate is .is follows : —
'= Presented by the arti.-Hs n/ilie United States to F. Glea-
50H. Es(/.j of Gleasoii's Pictotial, as a tesliinoni/il offflr
appreriation of his endeavorsto ijnprove art in this country. "
Mr. Qleason is so well known to the pubUcthatwe need
hardly observe that this offering is timely and well-'le-
served. It is well north a visit to Gleason's Publisbiug
Hall, Tremont street, to see this superb service of plate. —
Boston Fost.
Theatrical.— Mr. Brooke has been highly
successful at the National Theatre, in this city,
attracting large and discriminating audiences.
He is also very finely supported by the company.
Gleason's Pictorial Draicing-Tioom Com-
panion— published in Boston, Mass., — will com-
mence, on the 1st of January, 1853, a new vol-
ume, being Volume IV of this elegant illumined
journal. It will appear with new type, new
heading, and splendidly improved in every de-
partment, besides which, the price is to be greatly
reduced. The publisher is resolved to commence
the new year with a circulation of one hundred
thousand, and, therefore, offers the most liberal
inducements to clubs. Realizing the spirit of
the age, the great improvement in art, and the
constantly increasing intelligence of the people,
the publisher, with this change of prices, will
vastly improve his already splendidly illustrated
journal. Especially will a great improvement
be manifested in the engraving department, as
well as the literary character of the paper, so
that the Pictorial shall appear in a stjle, not only
to merit all the encomiums of praise so lavishly
bestowed upon it, but also so as to challenge in-
creased respect for its enhanced excellence and
perfection. In short, the whole paper will be
far superior to anything yet offered to the pub-
lic by the publisher. By referring to the follow-
ing list, which forms a part only of the regular
contributors to the Pictorial, its high literary
character will at once be understood.
Mrs. Ann S- Stephens,
Mrs. L. H. Sigourxey,
Mrs. Alice B. Neal.
Miss Pa(EBE Carey,
Miss Alice Caret,
Mrs. Caroline Gene,
Miss Anne T. WasuR,
Mrs. S. p. Dodohtt,
Mrs. C. a. Hatken,
Mrs. K. T. Eldredge,
Mrs. E. R. B. Waldo,
ttc, etc., etc.
Rev. n. Hastings Weld,
Henry SVvi. Herbert,
T. Buchanan Read,
T. S Arthcr,
A. J. H. Dcgakne,
Kpes Sargent,
George W. Dewet,
Francis A. Dcrivaqe,
Park Benjamin,
Dr. J. V. C. Smith,
B£n: Perley Poore,
etc., etc., etc.
Personal. — It is said that Mr. Meagher, the
eloquent Irishman, is about to be married.
The following are the terms of the paper : —
One subscriber, one year, S3 00 ; two subscribers,
S5 00 ; four subscribers, $9 00 ; eight subscrib-
ers, $16 00. The paper will be for sale at all
the periodical depots throughout the country,
after the 1st of January, at six cents per copy.
CT'Any paper inserting the above, editorially,
with thi3 paragraph, shall receive the Pictorial
one year.
VICTORIA AND ALBERT.
On page 38S, we present a large and very fine
engraving of Prince Albert, the royal consort of
Queen Victoria of England, and on the opposite
page a mate to it, representing the Queen Vic-
toria herself. These pictures are excellent ones,
and the likenesses are good. Both Victoria and
Albert are passionately fond of equestrian exer-
cise, being almost daily seen in the saddle, and
much of the good health enjoyed by the queen
is doubtless attributed to this delightful and
healthful exercise. The accomplishment of
being a good equestrian with both sexes in Eng-
land, is considered absolutely xu indispensable
point of education, and very justly so, for scarce-
ly any species of exercise has ahappier tendency
to develop and give strength and vigor to the
physical system. The readers of the Pictorial
will prize these fine engravings of the prince
and the queen.
" Selections of Poetrt." — This admirable
work, from the hand of Epes Sargent, and de-
signed for exercises at school and at home, is a
finely illustrated and really valuable book. Mr.
Sargent's thorough experience in classical mat-
ters, and his ripened judgment, as it regards the
use of the pen, are amply exhibited by this
choice work. As its title-page indicates, it is
calculated for the library and centre-table as well
as the school house. It is a work not to be over-
looked, in this age of book-making.
The Mat oraltt . — We observe that the Union
Convention, of Boston, have nominated Dr.
Jerome V. C Smith as candidate for mayor of
the city. Their choice could not have fallen on
a more worthy individual. Our readers are fa-
miliar with the doctor, as a regular and able
contributor to the Pictorial.
Mrs. Barrett. — The visitors of the National
Theatre are largely indebted to this lady's chaste
peiformance of character for the enjoyment she
imparts. As an actress, she has barely escaped
perfection.
Cldbs. — Now is the time to form your clubs
for the new year, on the Pictorial. Read the
terms, and send in your names. It is a rare
chance.
Musical. — Ole Bull, Strakosch and Patti
have been concerting together out West.
Miss Lehmann. — This lady is becoming a
favorite with our citizens.
In tbis city, by Rev. Dr. Keale, Mr. John C. Piper to
Mis,!; Mary Ann Clark.
By Hf'V. Phineas Stowe, Mr. Michael B. Munroe to Mrs.
Nancy Donaldson.
By Rev. Dr. Neale, Mr. Richard H Healey to Miss Mary
F. Quigg.
Mr. Wiliinm H. DeCosta, of the Cbirleatowu City Ad-
vertiser, to Miss ATigustii inn Dennen
By Rev. Mr. Norris, Mr. Alexander Cleary to ML=s Mar-
garet Brodie of Derbv Line, Vt.
At East Cambridge, by Rev. Mr. Holland, Mr. Henry
TThitney, Jr. to Miss Martha R. Hastings
At South Dedliam, S. D. Bacon, of Boston, to Misa Ma-
ria E. Morse.
At Ljnn. by Rev Mr. Baker, Mr. Joshua Patch to Miss
Abby h. Baker.
At South Rfadiug, Mr. John T. BurgeB.i, of New York,
to Miss Ellen M. Eustis
At Lexiogton, Mr. eidney G, Davis, of the firm of Bige-
low & Davis, Boston, to Mrs. Mary Sinclair.
At Salem, by Rev. Mr Boyden, Mr. Henry C. Acker-
man to Miss Lucy S. Graves, of Danvers.
At Lowell, Mr. Benjamin Parker, of Boston, to Mise
Eunice S. Thurston.
At Newburyport, by Rev. Mr. Pike, Mr. Moses B Pike
to Miss Mary E. Sawyer, both of Sali'sbury.
At New Bedford, by Rev. Mr. Eldridge, Mr. Thomas S.
Brjant, to Mit-s Sepbronia W. Phinney.
At Grafton, by Rev. Mr. Biscoe, Mr. Alfred Pettie to
Miss Ellen Emerson.
At Worcester, by Rev. Dr. SmaHey,Mr. Edwin H. Wood
to Miss Calista M. Johnson.
In this citv, Mrs. Elizabeth S. Phelps, 36 ; Mrs. Eliza-
beth King, 60 ; Mrs. Mary M. Ball, 71 ; Mr. Charles H.
Roulstone. 38 ; Mrs. Emilv S. Jones. 22; Mrs. Helen M.
Crocker ; Miss EUza J McManus, 17 ; Mra. Elizabeth C.
Niles, 23.
At East Boston. Miss Harriet M. Huntress, 29.
At Koxbury, Miss Evelina Watson, 37.
At WeHt Roxbury, Mrs Judith Locke, 91.
At Somerville, Mr. Theodore A. Eaton. 41.
At Cambridgeport. Mary Lizzie Dodge, 5.
At Maiden, Mr. George Nichols. 4i.
At West Newton, Mrs. Miriam G. Dix, 28.
At Taunton, Mr, Benjamin Seaver, 54.
At Abington, Mrs. Sarah C, Baker, 23-
At Newburjport, Mrs. Abigail D Cheever, 52.
At Sutton, Mrs. Abigail S. Hall, 68.
At fscituate, Mrs, Elizabeth Pearson, 83.
At Uolden, Mr, Franklin Dunn, 30
At New Bedford, Mrs. Rebecca Sherman, 85.
At Nantucket, Mrs. Merab Pinkham, fi8-
At Worcester, Mr Samuel Henderson, 82.
At Fairhaven, Mrs. Cbarlotte Morton, 64
At Keuuebunk, Me., Mis;i Mary Storer, 21.
At New York, Mrs Mary E. Louoon, 22.
At Woodstock, Vt., Mrs. Esther Warren, 92.
At St. Domingo, Oct 30, of yellow fever. Mr. Christopher
Tilden Dalton, iS, son of James Dalton, Esq., of this city,
and of the firm of Messrs. Kettell, Collins & Co.
Lost overboard from ship Rotkall, Sept. 3, on the pas-
sage from Boston to Calcutbi, Mr. Richard Roberson.of
Ni'w Vo'k, first officer of said ship.
A mmmm mmmum
— AND —
LITEEARY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
A Record of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of tlie day. Ita columns are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEHICAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; tie whole
well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, of
notable objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
tirely original in its dc.«ign, in this country. Its pages
contain views of everj- populous city m the known world,
of all buildings of note iu the eastern or western hemi-
Bphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine anU accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female.
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also ha
given, mth numerous specimens from the animal king-
dom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. It i.i
printed on fine satin-surface paper, from a font of new
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for it, — prc-
EentiDg in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty -four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter and
illustrations — a mammoth weekly p.iper of sLsteeu octavo
pages. It forms
The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as ita aim l.i constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, the object is to
make the paper loved, respected, and sought after for its
Combined excellencies,
TEEMS: $2 00 PER VOLUME.
OR, S4 00 PER ANNUM.
INV.^RIAIJLT IN ADVAXCE.
Each six months completes a. volume, commencing on
the iirst of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per jear, ot'four hundred and sixteen pages each.
[C/^ One copy of the Flaq oF OUR rxiox,and one copy
of the Pictorial Dkawixg-Room Companiom, one year,
for $ j W.
[C^ The PiCTORHL Drawino-Rgom Cojtpasios may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tli©
eountry, and of newsmen, at ten cents per single copy
Published every Is.^turdat, by
F. GLEASON, Boston, SLisa
WHOLESALE AGENTS.
S. FRENCH, 151 Nassau, cor. Spruce Street, New Tork.
A. WINCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
WM. & HENRY TAYLOR, 111 Baltimore St., Baltin ore.
A. C. BAGLEY, 118 Main Street, Cincinnati.
J. A. ROYS, 43 Woodward Avonue, Detroit.
E. K. WOODWARD, cor. 4th and Chesnut. St. LouIp.
[[^ SiibscrtvlioTis received (it eitlifr Qf the oAorp -pic^ctt
398
GLEASON'S PICTORIAI. DRAWING IIOOM COMPANION.
[Written for OloivHon's Pictorliil,]
OLD SON«S.
BY OWEN a. WARBKN.
Old HongH iiro old frlondfi, and though homely,
Wo lovci thorn, we ciiuuot tell why ;
And even tholi- look, speaking dumbly,
Ol't calls forth a tear from the eye.
Though (iimplo tho strain, and old fa-ihlonod,
Ww love them, and Hhall love them Btill ;
Fur more than hravunis Impjunsioned,
Though given with a vocalist's skill.
Old eonga are the memory of morning,
All tinged with its ^Obl^^t rays ;
And with them we hail the returning
Of thfi joy of lifii's earlier days.
The loves that wo loved, and the feeling
That dwelt in the bofom of yore ;
All, all witli the gentle strain stealiog,
Come hack to existence once more.
New songs for the banquet and festa —
New dances for misses just out —
New robes for the votive of Vesta —
New modes for the season's first rout ;
But if we'd recall early hours,
And the joy that to memory belongs.
And tho time when we walked hut on flowers,
0, sing us apain the old i^ongs.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
DANIEL AYEBSTER,
AS A MAN", A STATESMAN AND A JURIST.
BV REV, F. W. HOLLAND.
" Leaves have their time to fade,
And flowers to fall,
But all are thine, 0 Death I "
With the fading leaf has fallen from the tree
of national renown one possessing an almost un-
exampled combination of powers, each unrivalled
in degree, and unimpaired to the last. In speak-
ing of the great jurist, matchless orator and con-
summate statesman, whom I need hardly name,
because no other name is in every one's mouth
to-day, I feel that there is no one remaining to
utter his eulqgy — none but a mind capacious as
his own could bring such various greatness home
to our sympathy.
His career, as a public man, has almost made
us forget his earlier fame at the bar. The two,
indeed, seem incompatible, as Judge Sprague
lately remarked; one requiring synthesis, the
other analysis ; on:; demanding comprehensive
combination, the otlm- ingenious dissection;
one substituting the fervid glow of imagination
for the learned research on which the other de-
pends; so that those who excel before a jury are
hardly noticed in the halls of Congress, and men
who give themselves to political life, find that
jealous mistress, the Law, withdrawing her
smiles from them forever.
Another melancholy experience of the pleader
— though learned as Luther Martin^ irresistible
as Mason, profound as Pinckney and gifted as
Dexter — seldom does he leave anything behind
but the " shadow of a name." Still less will
his printed page take rank with the classics of
the world, go abroad wherever his language is
spoken, become the study of the young and the
aspiration of the ambitious, and even while he
lives enter into the history and litcratm-e of his
age.
But Mr. Webster achieved all this. His
thoughts were axioms, his utterances weighty as
decrees ; principles made his ground work, the
argument that followed seemed fused into the
one that went before, and every clean-limbed
word was just the word to embody his matter.
If you miss the relief in his speeches which more
fancy and a poetical play of words would have
given, there is nothing for elfect, nothing super-
fluous, nothing to bewilder a jury, nothing to
confuse or overawe a judge, nothing to excite
temporary applause. Witli such granite strength
as belonged to a brain a third greater than al-
most any of his race, with such eloquence as at
a moment could crowd the largest hall, even
upon the driest theme, it is the boast of the Suf-
folk Bar that their leader strengthened by his
every stroke the foundations of right, and lifted
the pillars of eternal justice higher towards the
tented heavens.
Studying his case on all sides, bringing to it
patient learning, unfaltering memory, rare pres-
ence of mind, a rapidly comprehensive thought,
setting it forth on the broadest ground, and plac-
ing the triimnal he was addressing to stc pre-
cisely what he saw, though he fought not imme-
diate efl'ect, as great lawyei'fi, like Erskine, have
often done, he made such impressions on tiie
■'Miiig, even, a« can never be elfaced, and cast
such n spell around, ns once, at least, overcame
tho marhlo-likc Marshall, and awed those dis-
tinguisJicd men, who, most of them lawyers
alone, held the arena unc)uestioned, when his
Dartmouth college argument seated him, as an
equal, among his peers, in the Sujn'ome Court at
AVasbington.
But for his recent triumph in New Jersey, we
might have called his legal preeminence the
opanhuj chapter of his life. But at Trenton, wo
find the statesman, on whom the care of tiie na-
tion rested, whose patriotic thought was brood-
ing wherever the fhig of his country floated,
nay, wherever the sacred name of freedom was
named, at the ago of threescore and ten, argu-
ing, with success one of the most diificult cases
which American litigation has produced.
As an orator, his massive grandeur of intel-
lect, his unadorned power of utterance, have
never been surpassed — never, we think, in any
country, any age. And it is something to thank
God for, to have known this human Niagara,
those thunder-tones of emphasis, that ocean
swell, which human voice and yet created instru-
ment have not rivalled. To be sure, his princi-
pal speeches will live in the printed page, aided
by the alfection of one who is as a Cicero to our
American Demosthenes ; who has done all that
rhetorical art can to perfect tlie form of utter-
ances that fell like newly-stamped coin from his
majestic lips. But his greater manner when he
was aroused, his stern simplicity, unassumcd
authority, sometimes moral grandeur, no book
can contain, no eulogy, not even by Everett, ex-
press. It must be told, as a precious tradition,
by this generation, to the next, must linger
among the intellectual heirlooms of New Eng-
land, must pass down, unchallenged, to the same
distant day that will remember England perhaps
by the lightning of Chatham, and Greece, by the
thunder of Demosthenes. He was their brother.
And yet, there were times w^hen he failed to in-
terest, because he was not interested himself.
There were speeches which could not have satis-
fied his own mind, as they did not the high ex-
pectations of his audience. And this, I suppose
necessary to his peculiar greatness. A smaller
brain might have made much, even of these
trifles. As Mr. Pitt, when suddenly called to
address a school of boys, had not a word to say,
and, after twisting his hat, retired in mortifica-
tion, there were small matters on which Mr.
Webster could not be great, and probably did
not care to be ; and on these he needed the fig-
ures of Wirt and the earnestness of Choate, the
grace of Everett and the persuasiveness of Clay.
He was not, certainly, so nobly imaginative as
Burke, not so pleasing and melodious as Clay,
not so rhetorically rich as Wirt, not so fiery as
Patrick Henry, yet still, in his calm dignity, a
king, whose like we shall ne'er look upon again
in this century, if ever upon this continent.
While this splendid triumvirate, Calhoun,
Clay, Webster — the south, the west and the
north — made that scnatechamber the grandest
arena which human intellect ever had, Webster
vvas ever the personal friend of his opponents.
*' Shoulder to shoulder " he went with tliera for
the counti'y, the whole country. With them he
frowned away assaults upon character. Under
all exasperations there and abroad, now de-
nounced as the merchant's hireling, and now as
the bond-slave of the manufacturer, he heeded
it no more than the rock heeds the surf which
tosses the weeds upon its side, — he was, indeed,
that rock which no current could turn, no tem-
pest upheave. Immortal are those words which
closed his unequalled debate with Gen. Hayne,
words which never can be forgotten, while any-
thing remains of New England; words which
his guardian angel may have whispered to his
failing ear, as one suggested, while she waited to
waft away his spirit.
"When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for
the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see
him shining on the broken and dishonored frag-
ments of a once glorious Union — on States dis-
cordant, dissevered and belligerent ! Let their
last lingering glance beliold the gorgeous ensign
of ihe republic still full high advanced, its arms
and trophies streaming in all their original lus-
tre, not a stripe erased, not a single star obscur-
ed, bearing for its motto everywhere, spread all
over in characters of living light, blazing on all
its ample folds, as they float over sea and over
land, that sentiment dear to every American
heart — Libert// and Union, now and forever, one
and inseparable !"
Of Mr. Webster as the statesman, it is even
more presumptuou« for me lo speak, than of the
orator and the jurist; yet this was his choicest
crown, and the closing epoch of his history.
That title which he loved best,' which he so nobly
earned, and so proudly wore, no other statesman
will challenge, no fulure day will feel as fully a.^
the present. Much of what is now constitutional
law, the " Defender of the Constitution " was
tho first to draw forth from the original compact.
When he commenced his argument in behalf of
Dartmouth College, Judge Story thought that
nothing could be said on that side, but, before
lie finished, the whole court were satisfied that
college-corporations possess rights which no
State can violate. His great senate s])ceche3
establish other constitutional principles, then
questioned, but now undoubted. Nullification
his club of Hercules is commonly thought to
have demolished. Next after Madison, he de-
served, I am assured, to be called Father of the
Constitution. While many of us at the north
regret the stand he took on a painfully agitating
question, yet no honors and no monuments can
discharge the debt which the whole country owes
him for offering up to its integi'al unity, every
sectional feeling and every personal thought.
He did not need the presidency for his fame.
It needed him for its strength, energy and confi-
dence at home and abroad. It will miss that
strong arm which gave it so paternal an embrace.
A cabinet not headed by the late Secretary of
State, may well pray to be delivered from those
straits of difficulty through which his strong
hand held the ship's helm steadily to the port.
Nobler is it to ask why Ctcsar's statue stands
not among the idols of the people, than for any
to question its place in the Walhalla of our
heroes.
Such a lofty intellect was rather to be admired
than loved. After one of his efforts, which Mr.
Calhoun declared had saved the Union, tliat
generous statesman remarked, "AVebster ought
to be President;" and, pausing a moment, add-
ed, " but is too great a man ever to be." Thou-
sands were awed by his massive intellect, who.
little suspected the great heart so reverential to
the father whose declining days he blest, so ten-
derly fond of the brother's memory, so faithful
in friendship, so generous in affection, so wor-
shipped by all who were favored with his
intimacy.
That he "gave not up to party what was
meant for mankind," hear how the entire heart
of the nation " l>eats heavily at his grave !"
Each of our cities solemnizing his departure.
Men of all parties, on the eve of an embittering
political struggle, vieing in his eulogy. A spon-
taneous, unpremeditated, individual lament, ris-
ing up from the fisherman over whom he held
the tegis of protection ; the farmer, whose health-
ful labors he loved to share, the last objects he
looked out upon being those noble cattle of
which he was so fond ; the merchant, whose ad-
ventures he defended from sudden change of
policy at home, and the peril of boundary wars
with nations abroad ; the manufacturer, whom
he saw prophetically securing our independence
of foreign supplies, yet feeding the foreign hoi'des
whom oppression forces upon us — a lament no
more honorable to him than ourselves ! Repub-
lics are not uniformly ungrateful. Reverence is
not quite dead. Admiration for such splendid
patriotism will find a voice. Our mourning is
far nobler tlian that of England for her Iron
Duke — than Europe has felt for any who have
been born to office and honor, and have lavished
wealth and fame around them. We mourn for
one who wept the thanks he could not speak,
when his father promised to part with every acre
sooner than deprive him of an education, — who
afterwards kept a school himself, to secure the
same privilege to a brother, but who, thus un-
aided, thus self-made, strengthened, immeasura-
bly, the institutions handed us by the patriot-
fathers, who seemed, indeed, to have settled, in
those few years of senatorial life, the chief ques-
tions which could agitate a republic like our own.
Himself rather a pyramid than a pillar; nay, a
star, guiding not only while he lived in the body,
but now that he "still lives" only in that ma-
jestic presence which will be remembered by our
children, and our children's children, as a house-
hold word — "still lives" in that immortality
which brightened around him as he passed on,-
and crowned his last hours with a glory like the
gorgcousness of that autumnal foliage^ which
made his death-shroud.
Nor may we forget that other nations mourn
with ours ; that wherever liberty was in peril and
humanity oppressed, whether on the plains of
South America, among the ruins of Greece, or
the fields of Hungary, his voice sounded as the
clarion-cry of freedom. Shortly after his man-
ful rebuke of that despotism wliich, moi*e even
than Russia, ovei'ttwes Europe and stifies Italy, I
witncHficd along the Mediterranean shores, and
ebpccially at Atliens, the ccsiacy of hope inspired
by his brave defiance of Austrian tyranny.
Wherever the languages of civilization went,
tliey I>oro that letter to Hulseman ; and America
was heard, speaking encouragement to the op-
pressed, and warning to the oppressor. It was
felt that the great republic of the west made
common cause with republican hopes throughout
the world.
But "nothing in his life became him like the
leaving of it," In the autumn of the year, the
autumn of his life, the autumn of his powers and
fame, before a new administration could place
him in a less prominent position, witli dear
friends around and no unfulfilled tasks before
him, we have yet more to rejoice that he leaned
on that staff which can alone support through
the dark valley — that " the Gospel was, as ho
said, his promise of immortality" — that a su-
preme sentiment of religion pervaded his capa-
cious mind — that the majesty of Job thrilled him
and the love of John comforted him — that to
pray with his hou-sebold on special occasions was
his pleasure, and to unite in tender, religious
conversation, his cherislied privilege — that the
Secretary of State, whose iron pen struck as a
dagger into the hearts of tyrants, the senator,
whose logic was tlic eloquence of truth, the
statesman, able, like Atlas, to bear the world on
his broad shoulders, the mightiest intellect, per-
haps, which has ever been veiled in humanity,
gave hearty homage not to any creed or secvq
not to any ceremony or " ism," but to Chris-
tianity in its breadth and depth, its solemnity
and its promise, its law and its love !
Often as it had been my happiness to hear him
here at the west, in tJie Senate chamber, I have
still been surprised, not at the fact testified to by
his pastor, that never man, in any profession or
condition, spoke and thought always with such
awful reverence of Deity — no lightness, no fa-
miliar allusions to God or his attributes ever es-
caping him — but I have been surprised at the
freedom and fullness with which his more sacred
feelings were shown forth among his dearest
friends. " What," said he upon his deathbed,
"would be the condition of any of us without
the hope of immortality, and what is there to
rest that hope upon, save the Gospel V And af-
terwards, "My general wish on earth has been
to do my Maker's will. I thank him ; thank
him for these beloved objects, for the blessings
that surround me, for my nature and associa-
tions. I thank him that I am to die under so
many circumstances of love and aflection." His
reading from the sermon on the mount, one Sab-
bath morning, when he conducted the worship
of his household, those present say they can nev-
er forget, especially in the intense emphasis
which he gave to the striking passage upon for-
giveness. And, on a subse([uent morning, his
pastor was requested to read, in their connection,
those touching words, "Lord, I believe, help
thou mine unbelief;" and to dwell on that ten-
der clause in the Saviour's prayer, " Holy Eath-
er, keep through thine own name those whom
thou hast given me, that they may be one as we
are."
And so this oak leaf faded and fell, rather
vanished from our sight, and was borne away by
invisible hands. The "mighty man, and the
prudent, the honorable man, the counsellor and
the eloquent orator is taken away." Sung toby
the sea, which he loved as a thing of life,
watched around by all whom he cherished on
earth, anxiously prayed for by thousands of pat-
riot hearts, quietly reposing on the spot his own
hand beautified, a spot which will be honored by
us next to Mount Vernon, he has died, indeed,
"as though he had been studied in his death."
[Written for Gleason'8 Pictorial.]
THE HILL OF SCIENCE.
BY WILLUM EDWARD KNOWLES.
When the pale student gains the dizzy heiglit,
And treads tlie unknown paths on learning's .scroll,
A sudden glory, iritb a dazzling light,
Floods the deep chambers of his trembling soul.
How thrills his heart — how quick its pulses beitt —
As up hope's ladder-rounds lie now ascends,
And sees tho golden-pointed turrets mcot
The skies of fame — at which his journey ends.
On the untrodden heights he now surveys
The struggle of the busy world below ;
And, hke a stoic, calmly feels that days
Were few, einco he, like them, for truth to know,
Bent to the stura tusk of an upward flight
High on tlie liill of science, where tliore glows a heavenly
light.
GLEASON'S nCTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
399
THE WEBSTER OBSEaUIES.
The 30th day of November, 1852, will long be
memorable as that on which the citizens of Bos-
ton and vicinity turned out en masse to form a
funeral cortege and to march in procession to
Faneuil Hall, where was delivered the eulogy by
Hon. Geo. S. Hillard. On page 392, our artist
has presented a view of the scene, giving the
readers an idea of the column of march, by a
sketch taken during the moving of the immense
body of military and civilians. It was a most
imposing scene, and one which will long be re-
membered. The day was a fine one, and every-
thing passed oft' in good taste. The route of the
procession was generally draped with mourning
devices, as variously as possible, some very elab-
orate and beautiful. If we may believe the city
press, and perhaps our own convictions, our
Publishing Hall, decorated by the skilful hand of
Mr. Tale, was unsurpassed in its appropriate
draping and solemn decorations for the occasion.
The town, from an early hour of the morning,
was crowded with embassies from the neighbor-
hood, either destined to swell the ranks of the
procession, or as lookers on. On page 393, we
have given a medallion picture of the honored
son of America, Webster.. — appropriately set in
a mourning wreath of weeping willows, etc , as
emblematical of the sad occasion, and forming a
picture of great interest at this time.
The following is the order in which the pro-
cession marched over the route : Military escort
u..Jer command of Brigadier General Samuel
Andrews. Suffolk Brass Band. Battalion of
Cavalry under command of Major J. T. Pierce :
— National Lancers, Capt. Gipson ; Light Dra-
goons, Capt. Wright. Salem Brass Band. Ar-
tillery Regiment, with mounted field pieces, un-
dti- command of Colonel Cowdin ; — Washington
Axtillery, Capt. Bullock ; Boston Artillery, Capt.
Evans ; Cowdin Phalanx, Capt. Wardwell ;
Eoxbury Artillery, Capt. Webber ; Columbian
Artilleiy, Lieut. Doherty ; Gloucester Artillery,
Capt. Cook ; Lynn Artillery, Capt. Herbert.
Brigade Band. Regiment of Light Infantry un-
der command of Colonel Holbrook : — Pulaski
Guards, Capt. Wright; City Guards, Capt.
French; New England Guards, Capt. Henshaw;
Boston Light Guards, Lieut. Coverly; Indepen-
dent Fusileers, Capt. Mitchell ; National Guard,
Lieut. Walker ; Washington Light Guard, Cajjt.
Plagg; Boston Light Infantry, Capt. Ashley.
Colonel Green and Staff. Cambridge City
Guards, Capt. Meecham ; Richardson Guards,
Lieut. Dearborn ; Stonehara Liglit Guards, Capt.
Djke; Winchester Light Guards, Capt. Prince;
Mechanic Riflemen, Capt. Adams ; Veteran As-
sociation, Capt. Calfe. Then came G«n. John
S. Tyler, chief marshal of the day, and his aids,
followed by carriages. Next came the Inde-
pendent Cadets, under command of Colonel T.
C. Amory — accompanied by the Winchester
Brass Band, — as a guard of honor to his Excel-
lency the Governor, and the Executive Council ;
followed by the Boston School Committee, the
Sergeant at-Arms, Senators and Representatives
of Massachusetts, and the Webster Executive
Committee. The third division was headed by
the Newton Brass Band, and contained the
members of the New Hampshire Legislature, the
City Governments of Charlestown, and a delega-
tion from Springfield. The fourth division was
headed by the Lowell Brass Band, and contain-
ed the " Sons of New Hampshire," " Massachu-
setts Society of Cincinnati," (in carriages), the
" Cape Cod Association," with the Braintree
Brass Band, the " Massachusetts Charitable Me-
chanic Association," and the " Mercantile Libra-
ry Association," with the American Brass Band.
The fifth division contained the " Scots* Chari-
table Society," and was headed by the Roxbury
Brass Band and a Highland piper, and the
" Boston Irish Protestant Mutual Relief Society."
The sixth division was headed by the Boston
Brass Band, and contained citizens of Charles-
town, three out-of-town fire companies, the
" Bunker Hill Boys," and the *' Sons of Maine,"
in strong force. The seventh division was head-
ed by the Dedham Brass Band, and contained
the " Mechanic Apprentices' Library Associa-
tion," the '' Boston Boy's Webster Club," and
the " Jamaica Plain Boys." The eighth divi-
sion was headed by the Easton Brass Band, and
contained various associations. The cavalcade
composed the ninth division, which was very
numerous, embracing horsemen from various ad-
jacent towns and cities. The procession was
quite full ; but the number of people that crowd-
ed the streets to view it as it passed, was the larg-
est ever seen in this city at this season of the year.
tllaB0ili£ ©atljerings.
Two men have been arrested in Troy, N. Y.,
for robbing graves.
A large number of spurious gold dollars are
said to be in circulation.
Tartary and Persia are presumed to have been
the original country of wheal, rye and oats.
A valuable copper mine was recently discov-
ered near Culpepper Court House, Va.
The trade between this city and California
has increased 100 per cent, in a year.
Eive thousand dollars have been subscribed
towards the endowment of the Delaware College.
They have live lobsters and fresh halibut at
Chicago, received all the way from Boston.
The American lakes contain more than half
the amount of fresh water on the globe.
A merchant has cleared S40,000 by flour
shipped to California this season. -
The University of Oxford has ISOO students,
and an annual revenue of $800,000.
The death of Mr. Gilbert, senior editor of the
Alta Californian, is announced in the latest Cal-
ifornia papers.
Letters are delivered to vesseU lying in the
river Thames, by carriers in boats, who row
from ship to ship.
Three cent pieces are getting to be numerous.
A million and a half of them are made at the
mint, a month.
That which we call kindness or affection, is
interest; and we love one another only for our
own ends.
From S200 to S300 worth of silver spoons
were stolen from the Mansion House in Troy,
N. Y., on Sunday night lately.
The Valley Cotton Factory on the Shenan-
doah, above Baltimore, was entirely destroyed
by fire on the ISth.
The doors of the Boston police court opened
with thirty-four cases, Monday morning week,
mostly devotees to the bottle. ■
Miss Rebecca Bulwer has bef?n arrested in
Fall River on a charge of having set fire to sev-
eral buildings in Medford.
Mr. Henry Harper, Jr., of Pocahontas county,
Va,, killed himself a few days ago, by cutting
the artery in his thigh.
Foreigners arriving in the states of Russia are
compelled to make a declaration of the amount
of money they have with them.
The owners of the steamer Atlantic, lost on
lake Erie by collision with the propeller Ogdens-
burg, have sued the owners of the latter for the
loss, and claim 8100,000.
Some ladies will forgive silliness ; but none
ill manners. And there are few capable of judg-
ing of your learning or genius ; but all, of your
behaviour.
A man was found upon the track of the Bos-
ton and Providence railroad, in the town of
Mansfield, on Saturday morning week, supposed
to have been killed by the express train.
The Greenfield Courier states that Adaline
Phelps, of Northfield, has been arrested and com-
mitted for trial, on a charge of poisoning her
father by putting mercury or arsenic into his
milk.
A married man, 45 years of age, and a young
girl 1 8, were arrested on Saturday week, on
board a California steamer ; the former having
eloped from Boston, where he had left a wife and
family.
It is ill manners to trouble people with talking
too much either of yourself, or yonr affairs. If
you are full of yourself, consider, that you, or
your affairs, are not so interesting to other peo-
ple as to you.
Havana letter writers state that recently two,
and probably several, cargoes of slaves have been
landed in Cuba. On one of them it is stated
that the captain-general received a bribe of
$17,000.
In Ohio city, the telegraph wires which were
blown partially down by a storm, caught the top
of a buggy in which Mr. Prentiss, and his wife,
of Cleveland, were riding, tore it off, and consid-
erably injured the lady.
The Androscoggin Railroad is now completed
to Livermore Falls, and regular passenger trains
commenced running from Leeds — its junction
with the Androscoggin and Kennebec road — to
Livermore Falls last Monday.
Susan M. Learned recovered $3500 from
Alfred Watkins for breach of promise of mar-
riage in Albany, on the ISth ult. The lady is
only 21 years of age, but the gentleman is 56.
The latter, however, is worth $100,000.
A dwaif ear of com, a real Tom Thumb of its
kind, has bfcn sent lo the Newark Daily Adver-
tiser, by Mr. McCormick, who desires the editor
to offer $100 for its match. It is less than an
inch long, and a curious freak of nature.
Col. Amasa G. Smith, while sitting on the
rail of the Lowell Railroad Bridge, near the
city depot, waiting for a vessel to pass through
the draw, about a quarter past six o'clock, on
Monday evening week, lost his balance, fell over-
board and was drowned. His body was not re-
covered.
A man named C. R. Armstrong, from Maine,
arrived in New York on Friday, and sold $200
worth of axe handles next day. He was swin-
dled out of the whole amount of his hard earn-
ings at a mock auction shop. Part of the sum
was afterwards recovered, through the interfer-
ence of the police.
jForfign iKlisallang.
There are five hundred and three species of
birds, in Europe.
There are no signs or door-plates in the Egyp-
tian cities.
The finest emerald comes from the veins of
clay-slate, in the valleys of New Grenada.
Advices from Madrid state that no anxiety ex-
isted there with regard to the Crescent City aft^air.
A line of powerful screw steamers is about to
commence running between England and Aus-
tralia.
The Sultan has granted an amnesty to the
1400 families of insurrectionary Bosnians who
fled some months since into Austria.
A leader of the London Times is devoted to a
notice chiefly eulogistic of the late statesman,
Daniel Webster.
It is said that Hudson, the great deposed rail-
way king, has redeemed his losses by railway
speculation, and is now richer than ever.
Brigadier-General Lopez Ballesteros had left
Madrid for Cuba, to be placed under the imme-
diate orders of the Captain-General.
A severe shock of an earthquake had been felt
at Malaga, which shook all the edifices and caused
great consternation, and many families had taken
refuge on board the vessels in the harbor.
M. Corte, the newly appointed director of the
Italian opera in Paris, is to receive .£4000 per
annum, as a government subscription. The rent
to be about .-CSOOO.
Madame Cerito is to re-appear shortly at the
grand opera, Paris, in a new ballet, which, it is
stated, will be " the most fairy piece of fairy work
ever seen upon a stage."
Labor is the great article of expense upon a
farm in America, yet it is not nearly so great as
in England, in proportion to the amount of pro-
duce of a farm, especially if the poor rates be
included.
The prisons in England contain thousands of
persons imprisoned for debt, and have been for
many years ; they do not expect ever to be set
free. It is a barbarous custom thus to inflict on
poverty a punishment awarded only to crimes of
a high grade.
The London Times states that anoincer of the
United States Navy has recently left England
for the purpose of endeavoring to urge upon his
government the importance of trying to reach
the whale fishery of Bebring's Straits from the
European side, by the way of Nova Zembla, in-
tending to volunteer to conduct the expedition,
if successful in getting one fitted out.
Sanbs of ©olir.
Little strokes fell great oaks.
What ought to be done to day do it — for
to-morrow it may rain.
.... God holds us accountable for our wealth
as well as our talents.
.... The beauty of behaviour consists in the
manner, not the matter of your discourse.
.... A sympathy with the pains and pleasures
of others is the foundation of our social virtues.
.... Envy is fixed only on merit, and like a
sore eye is offended with anything that is bright.
.... Make 3'our company a rarity, and people
will value it. Men despise what they can easily
have.
.... A man of genius can no more divest him-
self of freedom of opinion than of the features of
his face.
Think like the wise, but talk like ordi-
nary people. Never go out of the common road,
but for somewhat.
.... When charity walks into the lowest
places of want, we see the beautiful purity of her
robes most distinctly.
.... The men who flatter the women do not
know them sutficiently, and the men who only
abuse them, do not know them at all.
.... The forms and ceremonies of politeness
may be dispensed with, in a measure, in the re-
laxations and intimacies of one's own fireside,
but kind atteniions never.
Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sun-
rise and sunset, two golden hom-s, each set with
sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered,
for they are gone forever.
.... In general, that man is a coward who
shapes his course of action by his fears; and he
alone is a man of real courage who dares to do
right.
.... Do not sit dumb in company. That
looks either like pride, cunning or stupidity.
Give your opinion modestly, but freely; hear
that of others with candor; and ever endeavor
to find out, and to communicate truth.
.... Good humor is the only shield to keep
off the darts of the satirical railer. If you have
a quiver well stored, and are sure of hitting him
between the joints of the harness, do not spare
him. But you had better not bend yom" bow
than miss jonr aim.
.... If you happen to fall into company where
the talk nins into party, obscenity, scandal, folly,
or vice of any kind, you had better pass for mo-
rose or unsocial among people wliose good opin-
ion is not worth having, than sliock your own
conscience by joining in conversation which you
must disapprove of.
Why is a lady's bonnet like a cupola "? — Be-
cause it covers the belle.
Why are most pieces of villany like a candle "?
Because they are brought to light.
Gentility is said to be eating meat with a sil-
ver fork, when the butcher has not been paid.
AVhy is Bulwer a very industrious man ?—
Because he wrote Night and Morning.
The last case of absence of mind is that of a
ship carpenter, who bit off the end of a spike and
drove a plug of tobacco into the vessel's bottom.
Why is a man ascending Vesuvius like an
Irishman trying to kiss a pretty girl ? — Because
he wants to get at the crater's mouth.
Society is composed of two great classes — ■
those who have more dinners than appetites, and
those who have more appetites than dinners.
A German writer, in a late volume on the so-
cial condition of England, observes that thieves
in London must be scarce, as they were offering
rewards for them.
A man took oflf his coat to show what a ter-
rible wound he had received some years past.
" 0," said he, not being able to find it, "Ire-
member now, it was on my brother Bill's arm !"
Dobbs says if marriages are made in heaven
he is sorry for it — for that very many alliances
reflect no great credit on the place. Dobbs was
locked out, the other night, during " that rain."
An excellent eld lady says the only way to
prevent steamboat explosions is to make the en-
gineers "bile their water" ashore. In her opin-
ion, all the bustin' is caused by " cooking the
steam " on board.
Nobody likes to be nobody; but everybody is
pleased to think himself somebody. And every-
body is somebody; but, when anybody thinks
himself to be somebody, he generally thinks
everybody else to be nobody.
Shakspeare asks : " What's in a name 1" This
only shows that Shakspeare never kept a " fam-
ily grocery." If he had, he would have known
that white beans, under the name of " Old Gov-
ernment Java," sell for sixteen cents a pound.
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes 1st and 2d of the PiCTORiiL DRAWraa
Room Oompanion elegantly bound in cloth, with gilt edges
and hack, and illumiued sides, forming a superb and most
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer Foir and Five Hundred Pages,
AND COKTAINING NEAELY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Eventa all over the world :
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Tillages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an infinite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
XLLUMTNED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excellence, and forming a very
brilhant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustratioES, it embraces in it-s pages
a vast :miount of original Tales, Sketche':', Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a curi-ert
News Record of the times; altogether forming an exceed-
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both in regard to reading matter and
illustrations.
For sale at the Publication Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Union, for T/iree Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR U^ION.
AN ELEGANT, MORAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite Uterature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, \mtten expressly for
tills paper, and at a very great cost. In pohtics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothing of
an immoral nature will ever he admitted into its columns ;
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPER FOE TEE MLLIOIf,
ANT) A WELCOME TTSITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
Ifc is generally acknowledged that the Fla a is now the
leading weekly paper in the United Slates^ and its literary
contents are allowed, hy the best judges, to he unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
so condensed as to enable us to give ths greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAM3I0TH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributoi-s are regulariy engagetl,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SUBSCEIBERS.
1 subscriber, one year, S2 00
3 subscribers, " 5 00
4 '^ '- 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 " ' 20 00
One copy of the Elaq of our Ukiox, and one copy of the
Pictorial Drawinu-Room Companion; one yeiir, for So 00.
QCT^- Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms,
rCP* Alt orders shoidd be addressed. POST PAID, to the
Publisher of tqe Flaq of odr Union*.
*4f* The Fla q can be obtained at any of the nnospaper
depots in the United States^ and of newspaper carriers, at
FOUR CENTS per single copy.
F. GLEASON,
Pdblisuer and Proprietor, Boston, Mass.
400
GLEA.SON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
CHINESE WATER BRAVE,
The Chinese arc a queer people, as wo Imvc moro than onec
taken occasion to donionHtriito in tiie Pictorial. They do iiothinj^
like other people ; everything witli them seems odtl enouj^li to uh.
Our picture represents what is called a Chinese Water Brave — a
boat tighter. Ho is mounted upon ii large hollow body and
armed with a trident weapon. It should be explained that the
" horse " whereon the "brave" rides is made of pig-.skin blown
into shape ; ho bears a match-lock pistol, and upon the trident
are iron rings, which he shakes to intimidate " the barbarians."
The costume is the ordinary Cliinesc dress, the trousers being
A CHINESE WATER BRAVE.
tucked up. It seems really hard to realize that a nation which
has been the author of three of the most important inventions or
discoveries of modern times — the art of printing, the composition
of gunpowder, and the magnetic compass — has failed to accom-
plish what might have been expected from it. Nevertheless, it
has been suggested that these queer water boats might be avail-
able in the more peaceable occupation of fishing. The whole
affair, however, is peculiarly Chinese, and is very indicative of the
people, and their manners and customs. These have been but
indifferently known to us in former times, but modern explora-
tions and the copious records of travellers have placed us in full
understanding of their peculiar institutions, to say nothing of
the anticipated arrival of a Chinese member of congress to repre-
sent the interests of his emigrated countrymen in California, who
have been attracted hither by the luring fate of gold and the means
of quickly realizing a fortune. Well, we shall see. Perhaps
they will send one of these " Water Braves !"
TRENTON FALLS.
Nothing can well be more beautiful and moro picturesque than
is this delightful spot, so finely represented by our artist below.
Situated within tlie distance of >iomu two hours' drive from Utica,
and as yet unstifled by the press and throng of the mere pleasure-
seeker, it combines within itself all that is elsewhere scattered by
nature amid her various scenes of loveliness or grandeur. Chasms
girdled with rock and tree, threaded here by a gentle and rapid
current, which anon swells into a foaming and troubled stream,
again compreascd by masses of worn and dark granite, until it
shoots in a miniature cataract (for so it must be called while the
memory of Niagara is still fresh upon us) over the precipice which
almost seems as if it had been reared by some old Titan, wiill-
like, to check and bar the rush of the laughing and turbulent tor-
rent,— knolls covered with shrub and tree, here, swelling with the
soft and springy turf which asks the wanderer to throw himself
upon it, and, basking in the grL.en shadows, to listen to the mur-
mur of the waters chafing far beneath him, — there, protruding
huge fragments of rock, overgrown with moss and lichen, damp
with the spray of the flashing fall, that splashes and sparkles by
them, make it one of those weird and romantic spots which well
deserve to lure the footsteps of the wanderer, and to chain him
to them until the necessities of life liid him back from them to the
world, to join in the daily struggle for wealth, renown, honor,
bread or luxury, or any of the score of chances which make up
the sum of the travail, or constitute the reward of existence.
When the accompanying sketch was taken (at the close of the
month of May in the present year), the torrent was far more
swollen and rapid than it ordinarily is, and in consequence some
of the points in view were much grander than they can generally
be. But when the course of the stream is smaller and lesser,
Trenton Falls are perhaps far more lovely to the loiterer by their
banks. He is enabled to thread the channel of the waters up the
picturesque and contracted glen through wdiich they bubble and
foam, and as he turns every corner of its winding course, new
and more charming views break upon him. Here are the High
Falls, as they are called, wliich are presented in the cut. These
are ordinarily broken through by large masses of rock which
pierce and divide the less swollen waves. Here again is the fan-
cifully lovely portion of the stream which is called the Cascade
of the Alhambra, while Sherman Fall — the wild landscape which
hems in the Rocky Heart, and the Village and Mill-Dam Falls,
each presents itself under at least a score of changing and varying
aspects, every one of which impresses itself for the moment upon
the gazer's mind as more picturesque and romantically lovely
than any of those which he had previously looked upon, and com-
bine in tracing the scenery ineffaccably upon the memory. And
when, in addition to the charms which nature has cast around
the spot with a more than commonly liberal hand, it is remem-
bered that man has also contributed to its comfort and its beauty
— that the hotel is not clogged up and pressed upon by a score of
other buildings, but stands alone in the very heart of the scenery
we have been attempting to give some faint idea of, we apprehend
that we need say no more to induce those who have not previously
visited the Trenton Falls, and have the time and the love for na-
ture which might induce them to do so, to decide upon hurrying
thither and pass a week or two, if not more, at the fairy spot
upon which Providence has wrought a copy of Niagara, inferior
indeed in grandeur, but immeasurably more graceful and lovely.
PORTRAIT OF LOLA MONFEZ.
We herewith present an engraving of the famous danseuse,
Lola Montez, as she lately appeared in one of her fnvorite dances.
We need not particularly refer to one so widely known, and our
readers will remember that some months since we gave a full
size picture of her as she appeared in this city at the Howard
Athenaeum. On her first arrival in America there was an uncon-
trollable furore to see her on the stage ; but owing this popularity
more to the prestige of her name than to any real talent, she has
gradually "faded out," to use a Yankeeism, and is now compar-
atively little thought of, though in her professional engage-
ments she still draws large and intelligent audiences.
REPRESENTATION OF TRENTON FALLS, NEW YORK.
F. GLBASON,
( CORNER BROMTIELJ)
i AND TREMONT STS.
BOSTON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1852.
«2 per volume.
10 ctb. single.
} Vol. m. No. 26.— Whole No. 78
CHRISTBIAS.
Below we present an allegorical and timely pic-
ture of Christmas, by Billings ; it is graceful,
full of significance, and tells a story fluently, at
first sight. We cannot pass this time-honored
and religiously-hallowed period, without recalling
to the readers of the Pictorial the myriad of as-
sociations that linger round its annual recurrenc-
es, in the minds of old and young, by such a
scene as is happily illustrated herewith. On one
side of the picture is seen a merry company danc-
ing and enjoying themselves, after the prompt-
ings of the occasion. In the immediate fore-
ground of this scene, a lover kisses his mistress
under the mistletoe branch which is suspended
from a wreath of flowers ; the children laugh at
the surprise of the maiden. On the opposite
side, a poor fellow, who has no companions nor
other sources of enjoyment, is endeavoring to
kill time by an out door walk ; he is overtaken
by a snow-storm, making his situation far from
agreeable. In the centre is Old Christmas, call-
ing on all to make merry. Below, "Jlemember
the poor," is a reminder of our duty in this joy-
ful season. At the foot is the nativity of Him
whose birth made this a season of joy. In this
country of enterprise, business tact, and money-
making propensities, we have so few recognized
holidays, it becomes us to make the most of those
few, and especially such as Christmas. It should
ever be a delightful period to old and young,
rendered so by the united effort of tongue and
hand, to put aside this day, of all others in the
year, for sunshine and heart work. There are
few enough spots, in tliis working, mercenary
world of ours, on which, in looking back upon
the past, memory loves to dwell ; this is a sad
but true remark ; and if we can but have one
annual period which, in its recurrence, shall be
so fixed upon the mind and heart, as it regards
bygone time, as to radiate peaceful recollections
and joyous memories, O let us cultivate and
cherish the chance to fix such a beacon along the
road, that must form the vista and perspective of
our past journey of life ! In this view of Christ-
mas, and feelings thus prompted, we think our
readers will delight with us in the very beautiful
and ingenious picture below.
AN ALLEGORICAL PICTXJBE OF CHRISTMAS.
402
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING
RO(JM CO:SIPANION.
[Written for Qlcnson's PIctorllil.]
TURKEY AND THE TURKS.
No. XVI.
BY DR. JEnOME V. C. 9MITH.
SMYBKA
Lodging at thiit den of thieves, was a Mr. Leo
and Iiis tlirco small boy^, who siiid ho was a na-
livc of Boston. Ho had just ari'ivod, he .said,
fiom Spain, whevo lie had been performing, the
jiast two years, as a kind of posturc-niastor. He
was doinp n prosperous bu-jinoss in a Iarj;o build-
ing he had hired, hy lying down on hia back,
and throwing iho \^ds about in the strangest
manner imaginable. The exhibition took ad-
mirably with the smoking Turks.
Word reached the cars of the governor, a
Fober, discreet man, the brother in-law of the
Saltan, that the fea'^s of Mr. Lee were extraor-
dinary in character, which so stimulated his cu-
riosity that he sent a message to him while wo
wore remaining at Smyrna, to perform in his
great presence at his otlicial residence.
Happening to be present when the runners,
servants and police appendages of the governor's
palace arrived to convey the apparatus, prepara-
tory to the exhibition, it was amusing to watch
their honest manner and obsequiousness towards
the man who was to be honored by the call from
thfcir dignified master.
Jlr. Lee subsequently informed me that he
was pUiced in a large room, minus furniture,
well carpeted, with a raised platform, on v/hieh
sat his highness, with about thirty TuiUs, his
friends, who silently gazed at his gymnastic an-
tics with evident surprise, which' was occasionally
expressed by giving vent to an unusual volume
of smoke, taking breath, and resuming again the
quiet happiness of pufling at the narghilah.
A latticed kind of gallery was observable at
one corner, where there was probably a biilliant
assemblage, never to be seen by other eyes than
the owner's.
It is hardly necessary to repeat what has been
often written, that females are purchased, and
the price is invariably proportioned to the grade
of their facial charms.
An anecdote illustrative of the character of
the governor was related, that gives au insight
into the constitution of the Turkish mind, and
the processes through which it is allowable to ,
proceed to accomplish the ends of justice.
Some English gentlemen in the coarse of their
topographical explorations about the dilapidated
castle, on the hill, were assailed by a host of
impudent Turkish boys, who stoned them bar-
barously— a common fsat in that neighborhood —
to show their contempt of infidel dogs, who in-
jured their clothes, and actually endangered
their lives.
Pull of foam and fury at the gross indignity,
they hastened at once to the house of the pacha,
got admission to his presence, and stated their
sufferings. An immediate search was instituted
to detect the culprits, but without success. His
highness then gave orders to arrest the teachers
of all the public schools — there being several
under the patronage of the government, where
children are taught to read the Koran.
They were all thrown into prison for not hav-
ing taught their pupils better manners, where
they were threatened with a detention till the
guilty parlies could be arrested. At the expira-
tion of about a week they were liberated — thus
vicariously sulTering for the faults of others.
Handsome Greek and Italian women abound
in Smyrna. They were under no facial re-
straints, and consequently they are at full liberty
to Btarc with great, black, lustrous eyes at every-
body and everything they choose.
Turkish ladies were often passed in groups,
attended usually by female slaves, walking leis-
urely along the narrow streets near the Turkish
quarter of the city. Their faces were invariably
veiled, but not with the usual covering of white
lawn, drawn closely down over tho chin from
tho forehead. They have a thin stuff attached
to a wire to keep the veil off from the eyes,
which only reaches to the mouth, and generally
black — giving them the appearance of being cov-
ered with short masks, eeen at the distance of a
few rods.
In dress, they are all alike, precisely, as re-
spects the pattern of their garments. Yellow
morocco hoots, loose about the ankle, stuck into
long pcakcd-toed slippers, down at the heels,
were usually worn. They were chatting among
iberaselveB, but put on a proper modicum of ro-
aorve afl wo drew near.
Among the standing curiosities of Smyrna,
are the caravansaries — buildings into which any
and all the strangers go for lodgings and the
security of their property, while sojourning in
tho city. Thoy are huge constructions, sur-
rounding an open court, entered through a gate.
Camels and horses are there unburdened, and
tho proprietors secure themselves in small, cheer-
less, dirty, dark rooms, opening towards the
yard. Of court-c whoever goes there, procures
his own provi-;ions, mats for sleeping, cooks and
washes, and on leaving, pays a trifle to some-
body for the privilege.
A caravan arrived while wo were there, from
rcrsia, bringing the rieh shawls, rags, carpets,
and the greatest variety of goods. Being halted
outside the town, near a burying ground of ex-
tensive dimensions, at a bridge known as iho
Caravan bridge, we walked there one morning
to view the .«ight.
Having travelled with an occasional caravan
in the desert of Arabia, and often met them, also,
while on tl\c way to Palestine, from Egypt, the
show of animals and bales was not a novelty to
me. Evidently the camels were of a better breed
than usually met with among the Arabs. They
were very heavy animals, with an abundance of
long hair on the shoulders and haunfhes, of tiic
color and appearance of a buffalo skin. They
still had their high, clumsy saddles on, which,
by the way, are never taken off by camel drivers
night or day. No matter what may be the condi-
tion of their galled hacks, no mercy is shown the
patient beast.
Not an article brought from Persia, in its ap-
pearance in the bazaars, could be purchased any
cheaper there than in the city of Boston. I was
struck with the same fact in Damascus. Persian
goods were quite as dear there as at Smyrna ;
nor were they any more costly after being trans-
ported over tho tedious waste of sand to the
towns and villages on the Mediterranean.
Porters are invariably coursing through the
streets with such enormous burdens on their
backs, as to make our strongest men seem weak
and feeble. I have passed a small-sized person
actually conveying a barrel of rum on his back,
marked on the head Neto England.
Smyrna is a celebrated fig market. Grown in
profusion in all directions in the interior, they
are brought in as they ripen, on camels, and de-
livered at the packing houses. An acquaintance
with the process of putting figs into drums, is suf-
flcicut to deter most people from eating them
ever afterwards. Unwashed hands, and ihe la}--
ers of dirt on the floor, where the whole mystery
of packing is conducted, for shipping; the mil-
lions of worms crawling about in some of the
old establishments, together with the uncouih
and unsavory looks of those who conduct the
manipulations, are disgusting beyond conception.
"Whatever is anomalous, on account of differ-
ing from ourselves, soon becomes familiar, and
the stranger is ready for a departure. One or
two learned American missionaries reside in
Smyrna, who seem to have the confidence of the
inhabitants, and who are translating, writing,
teaching, and introducing the excellences of
Christianity, civilization, literature and science,
with a degree of success that will be felt in the
nation and country in future generations. Their
course is governed by prudence, and therefore
encouraging to the friends of the Bible and hu-
manity in Christendom.
It would be quite impossible to detail all the
incidents that occurred, or strange events wit-
nessed, while traversing town and country in
Turkey, without becoming tediously volumin-
ous ; and here, therefore, is a proper place to
bring to a close these prelections on the Turks
and Turkey, as Ihey were seen while sojourning
in their diversified country.
The Turks in Turkey arc widely different
from the Turks in their own native country. A
history of this extraordinary race of men is em-
braced in a single paragraph. They originally
came from the river Oxus, beyond the Caspian
Sea, where they were rude, turbulent shepherds,
who became converts to Mahoramedanism, and
at once felt themselves called upon to go forth
to propagate the new faith. Possessing all the
natural elements to become warlike, fine consti-
tutions, combined with the energy of fanaticism,
they at once became conquerors. Mahommed
II., whose title appears to have been Faith, tho
Opener, on .-iccount of opening a way into the
great Christian city of Constantinople, wrote an
epitaph for himself, in which was catalogued all
the rulers he had overcome, and countrica he
had eubdued.
CYPEU3 AND EHODES.
From a remote antiquity the island of Cypru-s
has been familiarly known to tlic people of tho
Kast. It is nearer the western coast of the Med-
iterranean limn atiy of ihe group which arc scat-
tered through the north-eastern border of that
sea, and easily npiiroachuhlo from Asia Minor,
without the hazard of difficult navigation.
One of tho earliest names by wliich it was
designated was Macaris, m allusion to its fertility,
and the term signified Furfa/ialc. Copper abound-
ed, and at one time it was known abroad as
Copper Island. Neglect, perpetually changing
governments, insecurity of property, oppressive
governors, poverty and Mahommedan fanati-
cism have reduced the splendid garden of Venus
to the extreme depths of degradation.
Zinc, also, v/as mined in abundance; but even
the localities where the copper or otlier valuable
ores were raised, arc now quite unknown. Iron,
tin, gems, marble of various shades, besides vari-
oui suits, of importance in the arts, and a sure
source of revenue and erajjloyment to a dense
population, are no longer sought, or perhaps
recognized, when crossing out above the surface.
During the age of Paganism, Cyprus was sup-
posed to be the favorite of Venus, the goddess
of love, to whom it was dedicated. Her worship
imbued the whole territory, and her shrines were
numerous in every village and town. At Paphos,
the modern Baffa, wlicre Venus was reputed to
have first appeared, there was a magnificent tem-
ple, in which a hundred altars smolted with the
offerings of slaughtered animals. Tiie concourse
of strangers from the then whole world, to wit-
ness the strange system of worship, which per-
mitted the most unbridled excesses, was im-
mense, and the fame of Cyprus was as extensive
as the glory of Greek and Roman conquests. At
present, the once attractive city has dwindled
down to a wretched village, made up of a few
Greeks and Turks, who are ignorant, fierce, and
fit associates for the desolation that reigns about
them.
In circumference, Cyprus is about 550 miles,
being 120 long, east and west, by 90 in width,
where it is the widest. The ranges of elevated,
r.agged mountains are disagreeable at a distance
at sea, which have a dingy appearance, but as-
sume a pleasanter aspect as they are neared.
Trees grow on their sides, quite near the peaks
of the protruding rocks; vines and shi'ubs of
every conceivable kind, everywhere force them-
selves through the surface ; but the moral dete-
rioration is also accompanied by physical de-
bility, or at least, a determination not to live by
the sweat of the brow. Wine was once made in
vast quantities for exportation ; olives were grown
in profusion — a crop that was as highly estima-
ted in former times, as by Syrian cultivators in
our day. Both are quite neglected, and solely
because the oppressive nature of the government
strikes at the foundation of all forms of industry
that might better the condition of the people, if
allowed to accumulate property.
Madder, for dying ; henna, universally used
throughout the East for staining the palms of the
hands and finger nails, is a product of Cyprus.
Poppies yield opium of an excellent quality ;
and soda is found on the ground. Some wool is
grown, but not a tithe of what might be annually
sent to Europe. Lemons, oranges, figs, plums,
pomegranates, and fruits of unrecollected varie-
ties, together with vegetables of the first quality,
could be raised with the slightest solicitation of
mother earth, for an exceedingly profitable ex-
portation.
But no encoitragcment is given to agricultural
efforts, and whatever, therefore, happens to gush
up for man's use, more than is absolutely neces-
sary to feed the poor, miserable, ignorant, semi-
barbarians that constitute the hulk of the popu-
lation, is bartered for the commodities of other
countries, and thus an irregular intercourse is
kept up with this once flourishing, rich, indepen-
dent, but nov/ prostrated island.
From the thrifty growth of the forests, and the
quality of the timber for houses, boats and ship
building, and the cheapness of it, too, an unsus-
pected avenue to wealth might be opened by the
introduction of a few steam saw-mills. Were
permission obtained from the Turkish govern-
ment to export it, an immensely profitable busi-
ness wotild follow. Alexandria alone, one of the
nearest ports — the door of Egypt, where wood
has always been scarce as well as dear, would
prove a perpetual market. This suggestion, I
trust, may influence some bold spirit to embrace
this and some other opportunities of equal valuo
In that direction, for advancino' his own fortune,
while the operation would also conduce to the
prosperity, comfort, employment and civilization
of tho Cypriots.
Morocco leather, admirable. in finish, as it is
good in quality, is manufdcturcd by rude pro-
ecssefl, in consideratjle quantities. A trade in
liides, tanned leather, blocks of marble, etc., is
worthy of the consideration of those who buy,
sell, and get gain, because the utter neglect of
Cyprus by merchants, especially lho.se of that
United States, renders it the more certain that
cheap cottons, hardware, with a little money,
couid be exchanged for their commodities to
advantage.
Silk, too, were the feeding of worms encour-
aged, would equal the quality and quantity of
the fairest mulberry districts of Syria, As it is,
under every imaginary embarrassment, in con-
nection v^itli tho vi-t inertia of the people, who
cannot be robbed of the pleasure of smoking,
though thoy are deprived of almost everything
else, the specimens offered for barter, in texture,
color, and excellence of workmanship, demon-
strate the resources of Cyprus under all its dis-
advantages.
On tho island of Cyprus there were once nine
distinct kingdoms ! Egyptians, Phtenicians, Per-
sians, Macedonians, Romans, Arabs — each had
a section and a government of their own
When Ihe Crusaders were in the zenith of their
success in Palestine, they got a strong foothold,
on Cyprus. Richard I., King of England, even
made a present of it, in effect, for he gave tho
crown to the house of Lusignan. The Venetians
took a turn at it, and while under their jurisdic-
tion, churches, convents, castles and fortresses
without number, sprung up in almost inaccessi-
ble places, where it was thought a military force
of small capacity cottld effectually resist the bo-
sieging army. But the terrible Turks made a
descent at last, when least expected, under the
victorious Selim, in 1570, who drove out his
Christian enemies, planted the crescent on the
cross, where it still floats triumphantly; and
from the moment tho Sultan's bloody forces
landed, to the hour this is being written, a grad-
ual deterioration has been going on, till its pov-
erty and sparse population, contrasted with its
known capacity and unlimited resources, have
become a by-word and a reproach.
No longer ago than 1S22, a horrible massacre
of 25,000 Greeks, and the atrocious acts of a
ferocious army, which destroyed seventy-four
villages, monasteries, churches, chapels, and
closed their unparalleled barbarities by throwing
a multitude of women and children into the rag-
ing sea, where they perished, is fresh in the re-
collection of those who are acquainted with the
phases of the revolution of modern Greece, and
finished the last great act in the modem history
of the island of Cyprus.
KHODES.
We arrived at the celebrated island of Rhodes
in the midst of a succession of terrific earth-
quakes, which had sadly shattered some of the
fairest monuments that were reared by the
knights, during their military occupancy of this
famous old theatre of the heroic ages. A boat
put off after sunrise to where the vessel was
swaying at the end of her chain, in which was
the British consul. This was on the 21st of
March, 1851. He gave us a gloomy picture of
the condition of the town spread out before us,
and the interior generally.
Two or three days before, the shocks were so
severe as to frighten tho people out of their
bouses, and beyond them, lest in falling thoy
should he crushed to death. The famous palace
of the grand master was severely injured, which
was much deplored, because it was sure never
to bo repaired. A fine arched gateway, close to
tho small harbor, was singularly difitorted, and
left with the appeari'mce of being just ready to
f.iU. One of the two huge brick towers erected
by the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, known
as that of St. John, was cracked from the top to
the bottom, and left in a condition altogether
too dangerous even to trust the stairs with the
weight of a man. It was feared, (o prevent the
mass from falling into the deepwater of the largo
harbor, the whole would have to be taken down,
after having bid defiance to the elements and all
previous tremblings for between four and five
hundred years.
The mountains easterly, nine miles distant,
were violently shaken. One elevation, whei-e
there was a small village of Turks, actually
opened at Ihe apex, into which every vestige of
their habittUions and the people themselves drop-
ped, and the cleft pides again came together and
GLEASON'S PICTOUIAL DRAWING ROOM COMrANION.
403
concealed them forever. Tood had become
scarce, meats could not be procured, and for four
days, the consul remarked, he had lived on four
fowls, fortunately secured before the scarcity
became alarming.
There are two harbors in ifront of the modern
townofEhodes — which is walled — the work of
the knights. To the traveller, the small one,
however, possesses by far the largest share of
interest, from the circumstance of being the
identical one at the entrance of which stood the
far-famed Colossus — a bronzed lighthouse, of the
figure of a man, between the legs of which ves-
sels passed on to the landings.
Dignified as the narrow strip of water is by
running into the land, curved considerably, with
the name of harbor, it is an insigniiicant resting-
place for vessels ; and, in its best days, could only
have accommodated the monster row boats of
the ancients. I noticed a few small sailing ves-
sels moored within, which might have been se-
cured, as doubtless the Rhodian fleets were, by
a chain across the mouth of the harbor — the
■width being scarcely two lumdi'ed feet. When
the walls and foundation stones were in condition
to receive the feet of tlie Colossus, probably the
width had been contracted to less than fifty.
Modern Rhodes is but a faint shadow of the
imperial Rhodes of a remote antiquity, when the
arts were encouraged, when commerce enriched
the people and liberalized their sentimenis by
intercourse tlirough the agency of an extensive
mercantile marine, with other nations. Just
la-ns were established, the State was strong in
resources, and the power, the glory, and the in-
stitutions of this same degraded, humbled, pov-
erty-stricken Rhodes, were celebrated over the
remotest boundaries of the old world.
Although in the quaint but truthful language
of the Bible, the land abideth forever, the revolu-
tions upon its surface are among the most strik-
ing phenomena in the habitable sections of the
world. Every country has its infancy, its meri-
dian of strength and beauty, and the waning de-
crepitude of old age. Such has been the fate
of the empires that have passed away. Rhodes
was slowly developed, attained the highest re-
nown, and then slowly declined. All this is
brought about by the agency of man, and not
through tbe unwillingness of nature to give seed
time and hanest.
In the year 58, St. Paul visited Rhodes, on
his voyage to Rome, which appears from the
annals of that period to have then been a mart
of extensive commercial relations ; but nothing
remains of that or even a far later date, illustra-
tive of the magniiicence of the public edifices,
palaces, colonnades, baths, theatres, and hyppo-
dromes, that once characterized the wealth, taste,
and magnificence of the Rhodian advances in
civilization.
A disserttaion on the earliest condition of
Rhodes, far back into the ages of mythological
mysteries, is not contemplated. Before the Tro-
jan war, however, a son of Hercules slew some-
body, and for personal safety fled from Argos to
this island, and commenced the settlement of a
colony. He became the king, at last, ruling
with a firm hand and justly. After the Trojan
war, the Dorian language was introduced.
"When Homer lived, there were three great cities
on the island, viz., Lindus, Camisus, and Tolysus.
The sites of each are designated by villages,
mean, fihhy, and wretchedly degraded.
Rhodes, a fourth city, gradually increased, till
it eclipsed the others. It was laid out skilfully
by the architect Hippodamus, who constructed
the Pirxus— the once unrivalled harbor of Ath-
ens. One evidence of the enormous wealth to
which the government attained when the new
city became the capital of the whole island, is
the circumstance that its statues equalled in
number the population.
Incredible accounts of the splendor of Rhodes
are the burden of the ancients. Among other
relations, there were one hundred gigantic stat-
ues set up in various sections of the city. One,
however, of universal celebrity, far exceeding
any similar work of art in any other country,
called the Colossus, was of cast brass, and dedi-
cated to Apollo.
As before remarked, not a stone or remnant
of a structure of the day of Rhodian glory can
be found. No inscription aids the traveller to
localities, either sacred or profane. A circum-
stantial description of the Colossus, before its
destruction was completed, is as follows ;
According to the most reliable accounts that
have com^ down to us, the figure was somewhere
between one hundred and five and one bundled
and fifty feet tall. Pliny relates that the artist
was one Chares. It remained astride the en-
trance into the little cove of the harbor, standing
on two huge rocks, or stone platforms, just fifty-
six yeai's, when it was overturned by one of those
earthquakes, distinguished for their suddenness
and destructive violence, that still occasionally
manifest their frightful energy. The region, for
a circuit of more than sixty miles, appears to bo
the focus of intense volcanic activity.
Some idea of the stupendous magnitude and
proportions of the Colossus of Rhodes may be
formed from the statement of the Roman natu-
ralist, viz., that few men could clasp round
the thumb — while each finger was larger than
the size of common statues. Being hollow, va-
rious parts of it were filled with immense quan-
tities of stone, to keep it firmly in place. Twelve
years were required, from the beginning, to the
completion of this unsurpassed monument of
ancient artistical skill.
Latterly a shade of doubt lias been cast on the
narrative so far as standing astride of tbe en-
trance to the harbor is concerned. When it fell,
the prostrate brazen monster was on the dry
ground. Had it have stood as represented, in
falling the channel must have received the
mighty figure. Reasoning in this manner, an
opinion prevails among travellers that the Co-
lossus must have been erected on one side only,
and could not have had a foot on both.
A fact of some consequence to be remembered
in connection with this curious affair, is this,
viz., that the statue remained in plain everyday
sight to all eyes for the long term of- nine hun-
di-ed years. In the year 672, a Saracen caliph,
Maowia, who had the control of Rhodes, sold it
to a Jew. After being broken up, there were
nine hundred camel loads of the fragments.
Great as have been the transactions on the
territory of Rhodes, it is but a small theatre for
the many and extraordinary exhibitions of hu-
man prowess that have been displayed upon it.
In length it is thirty-six miles, by only eighteen
in width — having a circumference of one hun-
dred and forty. Of an irregular triangular shape,
with a seri-ated coast, afibrding several pleasant,
secure retreats for vessels, the interior is eleva-
ted, and the centre mountainous. One peak,
higher than all others, is known as Mount Arta-
mira. A more fertile soil has rarely fallen to
the lot of cultivators. Rich valleys, splendid
growths of wood of many varieties, and babbling
streams to fertilize the land, with a profusion of
the choicest fruits that refuse to die out, even
under the vile rule of the oppressive Turkish
administration, show the striking resources of
Rhodes.
Any, and indeed all the elevations, a short
distance from the beaches, are so many observa-
tories, permitting the eye to range through a
field of vision of unusual extent and beauty.
But with natural advantages scarcely equalled
by the most favored spot in any country, Rhodes
has been languishing under the severe rule of
despotism, till nothing remains attractive to the
stranger, or encouraging to the wretched crea-
tures by which it is inhabited.
In tlie age of Xerxes the imperial government
was destroyed, and a democracy took its place.
While the republic endured, Rhodes became a
strong power, whose independence was even ac-
knowledged by Spain, where colonies w^re sent
by them. During a profound peace, when so-
ciety and trade were advancing with a degree of
majesty that called forth the admiration of sur-
rounding people, a woman, Artemeria, a bold
queen of Caria, pounced upon the island as a
tiger stealthily leaps from a jungle upon its prey,
and seized the prize before the danger was ap-
prehended.
Demosthenes advocated the cause of the con-
quered Rhodians, at Ath.ens, and by his masterly
oratorical influence they were subsequently re-
stored to their civil rights and liberty.
Next, Alexander struck terror into the petit
republic, and again the people took a heavy yoke
upon their shoulders. By adroit political man-
agement, some concessions were made by the
resistless destroyer of nations. When death con-
quered him who never before yielded to an
earthly master, the I'epublic was again re-organ-
ized with better prospects, and a well-grounded
expectation of stability, notwithstanding a siege
of a whole year, against a force of 35,000 soldiers.
After various struggles, internal treasons, and
the assaults of tyrants without, at last came the
Roman Emperor Vespasian, who humbled and
crushed poor Rhodes into the dust. Thus it he-
came a Roman province. When the empire was
cut in twain, into Eastern and Western, it fell
to the Eastern rulers. Next the Saracens took
possession ; the Genoese and Eastern emperors
alternately called the island their own. All this
while an ambitious, unflinching series of govern-
ors had conducted the administration of the reve-
nues, and fortified tbe assailable points so long
and thoroughly, that one of them openly defied
the throne at Constantinople, and made himself
a king.
At the commencement of 13CG, Emanuel made
a present of Rhodes to the Knights of St. John
of Jerusalem, who succeeded in expelling the
indigenous monarch, hut not till the metropolis
had resisted for four years, before surrendering
to the brave knights, August, 1.^10,
Nothing could have more desperately incens'ed
the Turks, the sworn enemies of the knights,
than to have them for neighbors. An immediate
demonstration of hostilities ensued, sometimes in
favor of one, and sometimes the other. But, in
\^-22, Solyman If. brought Rhodes under the
crescent, where it has since remained, a poor,
run down, exiiausted, debased Mahommedan
settlement, proud of its ignoraufe. Intoleranee
ia mistaken by the inhabitants for piety, and to
show how intensely they detest Cliristians, they
would be willing to suffer rather tlian to be
benefited by them.
Thus, in a condeiised view, the eventful history
of this memorable island has been given. Trans-
actions of a momentous character have often
agitated the multitudes of human beings who
resided upon its exhaustless soil. Enlightened
senates watched over the public safety, while
they encouraged literature, the flue :vrts, and the
elegances of a refined civilization.
While in the tide of prosperity and political
independence, the population must have exceeded
a million and a half, if not two. This is an in-
ference drawn from national resources ; the ac-
tivity of their fleets, commercial enterprises,
influx of wealth, and well directed powers of re-
sistance to an invading foe.
With all these evidences of renown, the sun of
its glory set in blood centuries ago. Under the
surveillance of Turkey, it has been sinking lower
and lower in the scale of humiliation. Literally,
Rhodes is the emblem of poverty and a perverse
national policy, hostile alike to trade and to
happiness.
At farthest, it was the opinion of the British
consul that the entire population of Rhodes does
not exceed forty thousand — distributed through
forty or fifty villages and hamlets. They are
the least enlightened of the Sultan's hot-headed
sulijects. To such a degree do the inhabitants
of the city, walled by the knights, and therefore
the only secure place against the incursions of
robbers and thieves, carry their antipathies
against both Jews and Christians, that not a sin-
gle individual of either denomination is permit-
ted to remain within the gates over night Even
the consular agents are obliged to conform to
this arbitrary measure.
A little to the north of the great towers of the
knights, and on the northerly side of the small
harbor, there is a cluster of tenements where the
Europeans are principally congregated for traffic
and residence — on one of which the British flag
was flying at the extremity of a staff while we
v/ere there.
For many years the Greeks canied on a lucra-
tive business in ship building, close to the city.
Workmen came from remote islands for employ-
ment, and the craft launched annually gave a
degree of activity that was on the increase till
within a recent period, when the whole was ab-
ruptly abandoned in consequence of a decision
of the divan that no vessel should in future be
built that did not carry the Turkish flag, and
was exclusively navigated by subjects of the
Sultau.
Of course, the Greek mechanics would not
comply with any such law. Their own country
was emancipated from the bondage in which it had
been held through generations of servitude, and
not a man of them would remain. A change of
policy, allowing the fine timber to be manufac-
tured on tbe spot, would instantly infuse a new
spirit into that benighted region ; but no relaxa-
tion is likely to follow, till Turkey herself shall
fall.
With capabilities in the agricultural resources
of the island for sustaining a million ; with grain,
fruits, oil, wine, metals, marble, timber, plank,
boards, cattle, etc., for exportation, to an incalcu-
lable amonnt, the present forty thousand inhabit-
ants find it difticult to procure a scanty subsist-
ence. Should any one practise industry, harvest
a crop, or gather property, the legitimate reward
of enterpri-ic, it would invite the immediate ac-
tion of the pasjia. He would be stripped of his
earnings, and might lose his head besides.
A vessel cannot be constructed throughoutthe
dominions of Turkey, till whoever entertains the
intention of doing so first obtains a firman at
Constantinople, granting permission. Months,
and even years, sometimes pass away before the
urgent request is oflicially acknowledged. Thus
all energy is paralyzed by hope deferred, and
Turkey in the future, therefore, is a problem of
difficult solution.
[Written for Gleason^s Pictorial.]
SONG OF THE PILGRIM OF THE ALPS.
ST T. BUCHANAN READ.
0. it is a pleasure rare,
Ever to be climbing so ;
Winding upward tliroiigh the uir,
Till the clouds are left below !
I'pwnrd :inil forever round,
Ou tbe stairway of the stream,
With the motion and the sound -
Of processions in a dream ;
While the world, beneath all tliie.
Lies a fathomless abyss.
Freedom singeth ever here,
"^^Tiere her sandals print the anow,
And to her the piaes are dear.
Freely rocking to and fro ;
Swinging oft like stately ships,
Where the billowy tempests sport;
Or, as when the anchor slips
Down the dreamy wave at port ;
Standing silent as they list,
IVliile the zephyrs reef the mist.
Here the well-springs drop their pearls,
All to freedom's music strung;
And the brooks, like mountain girls,
Sing the song of freedom's tongue.
Here the great hiUs, stern and staunch,
Guard her valleys arid her lakes ;
And the rolling avalanche
Blocks tbe path the invader makes ;
While her eagle, like a flag.
Floats in triumph o'er the crag.
0 it is a pleasure rare,
Ever to be climbing so,
Up the streamlet's winding stair,
Till the cloud is left below I
Pleasanter than in the spring.
Gathering violets in tbe dells ;
Music sweeter than the ring
Of the bees mid fiower-bells.
Like yon eagle's spiral flight,
We go les-sening up the height.
Till the world is out of sight I
LOOK UP.
It is what we rejoice to see — men, women, and
children — the rich, the poor — the old and the
young, always looking up. It shows the purity
of your intentions, and the determination of your
own hearts. We see in him tbe elements of a
true man. No matter if the seas have swallowed
your properly, or the fires have consumed your
dwellings — lookup, take fi'esh courage. Is your
name a by-word, or a reproach 1 Look up to
the purity of the skies, and. let its image be re-
flected in your heart. Detraction, then, will re-
bound from your bosom. Are you trod upon by
the strong ■? Look up — push up — and you will
stand as strong as he. j\iq you crowded out of
the society of ihc rich? Lookup, and soon your
company will be coveted. Whatever may bo
your circumstances or condition in life, always
make it a point to look up — to rise higher and
higher — and you will attain your fondest expec-
tations. Success may he slow, but sure it will
come. Heaven is on the side of those who look
up. — Winchestei' Republican.
VERY OliD MULE.
AVe noticed some months ago that an old mule,
the property of the Earl of Ellesmere, had been
stolen from AVorseley village, and after a few
weeks' absence had been fortunately recovered.
This aged creatui-c, believed to be between 90
and 100 years old, has, afcer working almost a
century, been at length " turned out to grass "
upon the moss, and is described by those who
have seen it to be " as lively as a cricket." The
mule's great age is well authenticated, for Mr.
Brodierton, jM.P., can remember some tifty years
ago to have seen it on the Bridgewater estate,
and it was then known as the " old mule ;" and
a carter who died some months ago, sged 80
years, could remember working the animal above
sixty years since. It is of a very diminutive
size, and we hops it is now to eojoy gi'een pas-
tures and fresh water, freed from toil for the re-
mainder of its protracted existence. — Mandiester
Guardian.
We waste our best years in distilling the
sweetest flowers of life into potions, which, after
all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate. —
Lom/felloiv.
That this is but the sui'face of his sout,
And that the depth is rich in better thinKS.
Jlyroi
404
GLEASONS PICTORIAL DRAWING -ROOM COMPANION.
EGYPTIAN STEAM FRIGATE, "FAID QIHAAD."
EGYPTIAN STEAM FRIGATE.
The beautiful vessel, a view of which is p;iven
above, was built in England for the Pacha of
Egypt, and is to be exclusively employed by him
for marine excursions. She is flush decked.
Immediarely abaft the funnels is a smoking
room, eight feet in height, fitted up in a style of
great splendor, but wind and water tight; next,
a covered house, in size and appearance similar
to the smoking room, from which the descent is
made to the main deck, on which are the state
cabins ard saloons. Proceeding below, to the
apartments of his Highness, by a mahogany stair-
case, we enter an ante-room of spacious dimen-
sions, with state bed-rooms on either side. This
apartment divides the two great state saloons.
On each side of the fore or smaller one are four
state cabins, with ventilating doors, separating
the saloon and state-rooms from theengine-room.
Both saloons and the intermediate ante-room are
fitted up in a uniform style of great richness and
effcL't. Her other belongings are in an equal
style of beauty and use. She measures 2200
tons burthen. Her entire length is 318 feet ; her
breadth of beam 40 feet, and her depth of hold
30 feet. Her engine is of 800 horse power ; and
for her armament has two eighty-four pound pivot
guns, and twenty-six thirty two pounders.
FIRST RAILROAD IN BRAZIL.
The advantages of railroad communication
are so palpable tiiat every nation seems deter-
mined to avail itself of it. The event, a view of
which is given below, — of the greatest importance
to the Empire of Brazil — was celebrated, not
long since, with great eclat, when the emperor,
with his ministers and the principal ollicers of
state, formally commenced the works of the first
railroad yet undertaken in this flourishing em-
pire. The Imperial Petropolis Eailway and
Steam Navigation Company was projected last
year by Senhor Ireneo Evangelista de Souza,
for the purpose of bringing into closer connexion
with Rio the healthy and fashionable city of Pe-
tropolis, and of forming the first link in the great
chain of railways intended to connect the pro-
ducing districts with the seaport. The elevation
of Petropolis is 2790 feet above Rio, and it con-
sequently possesses great attractions, from the
coolness of its atmosphere. The city is at the
summit of the mountains which bound the bay
of Kio on the north ; and it is at this time reached
by voyaging to the head of the bay, and along a
crooked river to Porto d'Estrella ; thence by car-
riages to the foot of the mountains ; and the as-
cent of the mountain is usually made on mules.
A magnificent road has recently been opened.
C,OMMENCEMENT OP THE WORKS OF THE FIRST RAILROAD IN BRAZIL.
GLEASO^'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
405
AMD-EUKADER.
The last lion of Paris has been the brave and
far-famed Abd-ei-Kader, just liberated from the
castle of Pan. Of this famous eastern prince
■we herewith give a fine likeness, and below a
sketch of his prison, the well known castle of
Pan It is already well known to the readers of
the Pictorial, that Louis Napoleon has lately lib-
erated Abdel Kader, who has been a govern-
ment prisoner for years to the French nation.
Sidi-el-Hadj, the Pilgrim, Abd el-Kader, Ser-
vant of the Omnipotent, now forty-six years,
who took the title of Emir-el-Moumenin, Prince
of Believers, and Sultan el Arab, Sultan of the
Arabs, is the second son of Sidi el-Hadj Mahhi-
Eddin, Supporter of the Faith. He springs of
pure and high Arab lineage. He received an
excellent education — taking the Arab standard
for culture — was acquainted with law and reli-
gion, geography, mathematics and astronomy.
His corporeal kept pace with his mental culture.
No one could manage a horse or hurl a javelin
with the dexterity he displayed at fifteen. The
Arabs were taught to believe that the future
greatness of Abd- el-Kader was predicted by an
angel, and that he was invulnerable. After the
conquest of Algiers by the French, in 1830, and
the revolt of the Arab tribes against the Turks,
Abd el Kader took the field against the Chris-
tians of Oran. Feeling the necessity of combin-
ing their tribes under one distinguished leader,
Abd-el Kader was chosen Sulcau in 1832. —
Against the French he displayed for years the
most brilliant courage, and gave evidence of high
military qualities — while his good fortune for a
time confirmed his followers in the opinion that
he was invincible. But they and he were com-
pelled to acknowledge their mistake, and Abd-
el-Kader now submits to the French ascendancy
as "manifest destiny." — In stature he is small,
but well and elegantly built. His shoulders are
somewhat stooping, and he has the defect, com-
mon to Arabs of small stature, of carrying his
head too far forward, from the necessity of resist-
ing the action of the bournous, whose heavy cape
has a tendency to throw them back. His k-iik,
according to custom, is confined to the top of
his head by a cord of camel's hair, and as repre-
sented in our picture, he wears a profusion of
beard. He has, as we have before remarked,
been liberated by Louis Napoleon, and is now
on his way to Broussa, in Turkey, a free man
He has sworn, voluntarily, never to take up arms
against the French, and j-eems to feel very grateful
for his deliverance, which has been so tardily ac-
corded to him. During his confinement, he has,
however, been well treated, and permitted to
have with him his family, wives (plural number),
and attendants from the East. It has cost the
French nation a pretty Httle sum to take care of
him, but it was cheaper than fighting so brave
and warlike a commander as he has proved him-
self. There is no danger of his ever renewing
hostilities against the French; like all his coun-
trymen, he is a fatalist, and believing that sub-
mission is liis destiny, he bows his head in slave-
PORTRAIT OF ABD-EL-KADER.
like servility to the decrees and institutions of
Mahomet.
Pau is the ancient capital of tbe little kingdom
of French Navarre and Beam, now the principal
place in the Department of the Lower Pyrenees.
It stands on a lofty ridge, forming the right bank
of the river, or Gave de Pau. Its situation is,
perhaps, scarcely surpassed by that of any town
in France; and, says "Murray's Handbook,"
" The English have shown their good taste in
having chosen it for their residence, especially in
winter." From this accredited work we select
these additional descriptive d'-tails. Tne range
of the Pyrenees, as seen from Pau, presents a
strikingly-beautiful and varied outline of peaks,
cones, and ridges, often cut lik--. a saw, rising
against the south horizon ; the Pic du Midi de
Pau and the Pic du Midi de Bigorre beinsr the
most prominent points. These members of the
great central range are disclosed to view through
the gaps of a suborrinate chain of round-bacl^ed
and wooded liills. forming the middle distance ;
while in the foreground appear the venerable
Castle of Pau ; the torrent, or Gave, its banks
beautifully fnnged with trees; the picturesque
bridge, and the ruins of another bridge destroyed
by its inundations. Within the scope of this
view appear Jurancon, a village famed for its
wines ; and Bitherc, where Henri IV. was nurtcd.
It is a glorious prospect, to be dwelt upon, and
has been over and over again. Pau owes its chief
renown to its having been the birthplace of this
"Bon Roi," Henry IV., who drew his first
breath (December 13, 1553) in its ancient, lime-
honored, historic castle, the most conspicuous
object in the annexed illustration. It stands
statelily upon the mountain ridge, looking over
the river, at the point of a sort of promontory
formed by a small rivulet which cuts its way
through the town, and behind the castle walls,
at the bottom of a deep ravine, to throw itself
into the Gave, just below it. The five towers of
the castle, and the outer wall which unites them,
and serves to support the upper stories, are the
oldest part, and supposed to date from the time
of Gaston Phixbus, Count de Foix, who founded
the castle about 1365. The tallest tower, or
donjon, named after Gaston, rises at the east end
115 feet high. In the gutted and half-mined
lo'ir de la Monnage, rising on the side of the
castle near the river, from the bottom of the em-
inence on which it stands, to a level with the
terrace, Margaret de Valois, it is said, gave an
asylum to Calvin and other persecuted Reform-
ers. This tower was used as ajail until 1814.
The Tour de Montauret, on one side of the court-
yard, contained, according to popular belief, the
oubliettes. It is about 80 feet high, and its walls,
to a height of 30 feet, were originally destitute
of any opening, the gate at the bottom having
been broken through in 1793, when the castle
was sacked by the Revolutionists. It stands
within and detached from the outer wall of the
castle, from which a small drawbridge, thrown
over the gap, gave access to it through a little
door. Opposite the tower of Montauret is the
grand staircase, among the sculptured vaulting
of which are the letters H M., the initials of
Henry I[. of Navarre, and Margaret, the grand-
parent of Henri IL, by whom it was built. The
entire restoration of the interior was undertaken
by Louis Philippe, and, as far as completed, has
been executed with good taste and splendor.
The king revived, as nearly as possible, the an-
cient decorations injured by the Revolationisis,
who first stripped and ruined this ancient palace,
and then degraded it to a barrack ; and he has
replaced those which they destroyed by others
as far as possible in accordance with the age and
style of the edifice. The walls of the chief apart-
ments have been covered with tapestry, and the
rooms filled with ancient furniture of the period,
collected at a vast expense. In an apartment on
the first floor is preserved the cradle in which
Henri IV. was rocked ; it consists of a large tor-
toise shell, inverted, and suspended by cords, like
the scale of a balance. In a room of the second
story Henri was born. On the day of Henri's
death, in 1610, there is a tradition that the castle
was struck by lightning, which broke in pieces
the ro^al escutcheon ! Jean d'Albert was also
born in the castle, 1528 U was alternately the
prison of Reformers and Romanists during the
religious wars and troubles of Beam, and was
the refuge of Theodore Beza and other Protest-
ant teachers whom Jean de Navarre protected
from persecution Besides those mentioned
above, Pau has produced several distinguished
persons, among whom may be specified Jlarshal
JJernadotte, king of Sweden, and the Viscount
Orthez, governor of Bayonne, who nobly refused
to execute the orders issued by Charles IX , for
the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Such is a
brief history of the prison of Abd-el-Kader.
CASTLE OF PAU, FRANCE, THE LATE PRISON-HOUSE OF ABD-EL-KADER.
40(5
GLEvVSON'S nCTOTlTAL DRATflNG TIOOM COMPANION.
nVritton for OlenHon's Pietorinl.]
JACK FROST.
BY J. STAKTl IIOLLOWAY.
In my window pimo hoV poeping,
Ere tho inoniliig light
i'com the rosy onat conies creeping
Ou the tmilofiiiKht.
Gems of rare iiiitl mtliftut Hplondor
Glittei' in hia crowii,
DuzKling more, yet yjuro and tender,
Ar tho light comes down.
What a hearty grasp and greeting
Meet mo iis T rise.
Wliile the plensure of tho meeting
Spark ley in his oycB !
But F meet htm without flinching,
Though — no matter what, —
For he'a HO incliuod to pinching,
That I love him not.
Ab I looU where he's been pluyiug
While I lay asleep,
Out where once we went a-Muj ing,
I'm iocHned to weep ;
E«'8 po wild uud so unruly
While he's at our home,
That I hate him, and I truly
Wish he'd never eome.
[Written for Gleason'a Pictorial.]
MEMENTO VIVORUM.
A STORY"
OF A POPE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK.
Bt AUGUSTINE J. H. DUGANNE.
PART FIRST.
In the reign of Gregory XIII. — that is, in the
latter half of the sixteenth century — there lived,
in a small town on the great road from Florence
to Rome, a very worthy cordwainer, who was
reputed to be a good Catholic, to make strong
shoes, and to sell the same at very reasonable
prices. This excellent man sat one day at the
door of his shop, hammering away very indus-
triously, while at the same time he devoutly re-
peated to himself, alternately a poter and ai-e,
thus combining work with prayer, and making
every peg which he inserted a peg to hang a
good thought upon. So intent was be upon his
occupation, that he did not notice the figure of
a monk, in the habit of the Franciscan order,
who had paused opposite to him in the highway,
and appeared watching, with some interest, the
moving lips of the good cobbler, as the latter
fixed in its proper place, by a tap of his hammer,
each wooden bead of his novel rosary.
The monk was a young man of mild and
thoughtful face, and though his garb was soiled
and travel-worn, and his appearance gave token
of poverty and hardship, yet, as be stood now,
with crossed hands in the highway, there was
something in his mien which bespoke a more
than ordinary character. He regarded the shoe-
maker for some moments in silence, and then
said, in a low voice —
" Beiiedicite I"
The cobbler looked up and reverently answer-
ed, " >Sa/ye (e/" for he was not unused to the
■\isits of itinerant friars, and had often shared his
humble store with the brethren of mendicant or-
ders. However, he glanced curiously at the
dusty garments of the Franciscan, and could not
help noticing, professionally, that bis sandal
shoes were much out of gear, so that, indeed,
the poor monk's feet were exposed not only to
public view, but to all the roughnesses of the
public road. It may be the hope of a customer,
therefore, flitted through the pious artizan's
mind, as he rose from his bench, and invited the
monk to rest himself; but the Franciscan waved
his band with a dignified gesture, and said,
quietly, —
" Son, I must journey far to day ; bring me, I
pray, a cup of water."
" Will not your reverence have a cup of sweet
wine 1" asked the shoemaker. Then turning to
the curly-headed, large-eyed boy, whose face now
appeared in the door-way, " Antonio !" whisper-
ed he, " del vino dofce .'"
"No, my son," said the Franciscan, gravely.
" My drink is of cold water, and my bread I car-
ry many days before I cat of it." Saying this,
lie produced a hard crust of black bread frqm
beneath his habit, and, raising his cyca to heaven,
broke it with a reverential motion. The cobbler,
g'catly edified at this behaviour of the monk, re-
sumed his bench, while the yount^ Antonio,
bringing a cup of eparkling water, looked with
bis serious eyes at tho reverential man, who
s oiled pleasantly, and said, laying his hand upon
the hoy's liead, "Son Antonio ! Heaven bless and
keep theo \"
Tho good cobbler's glnneo routed oU'ectionute-
ly upon his son, and he ventured to olwcrvc,
" Antonio in piously inclined, father, and I hope
to live to sec him n good servant of tho ultur —
maybe a sacri:itan — "
"Maybe a, priest," interrupted tlic Ijoy, and
then .sln-ank back, appalled at his own andacily.
" Maybe a bisliop!" said the Franciscan, with
another smile, as he noticed the hoy's calm eyes
lighten with sudden emotion. Then, as the lit-
tle fellow modestly looked down, he remarked
to the father, "Dedicate the child to that work
which his heart shall prefer; thus will he best
serve the altar."
"And now," continued lie, in a lighter tone,
"worthy son, I will, if my purse shall warrant,
purchase of you wherewith to guard my feet from
the stony paths which I must travel. Yonder,
methinks, is a pair of shoes which will suit me,
if, likewise, the price is within my compass."
Tlie cobbler exhibited the articles designated,
with many encomiums upon their quality, and
expressions of delight in being able to supply the
Franci.'^can ; but the monk, viewing, scrutiniz-
ingly, his contemplated ptirchase, cut the matter
short, by abruptly asking the price.
" Seven jiilios," answered the shoemaker.
"Nay, it is too much," returned the monk;
" I cannot alford to give more than six."
" And I should not live if I sold shoes like
these at so low a rate," said the cobbler.
"But what say you if I have only six julios
in my purse V asked the monk.
" I can only say it is not seven,''' replied the
cobbler, " and therefore not enough for the
shoes."
"But, perhaps, I shall be able to give you the
seventh Julio some time or other."
"Some time or other!" cried the shoemaker,
with a laugh. "Pray, when will that be'? When
you come to be pope ? Or, perhaps, when my
boy, Antonio, comes to be a bishop, as you
said !"
" Yes," said the Franciscan, gaily, "I will pay
you the other julio, with all my heart, when I
am pope, and your son Antonio is a bishop !
And, for the matter of that. Interest for the mon-
ey, too !"
" Ha, ha !" laughed the cobbler, " that is cer-
tainly fair. And, since I see you are not without
hopes of being pope, I will e'en let ycu have the
shoes on those terms."
" Very good !" returned the Franciscan. "I
will be sure to remember the bargain."
So saying, the monk drew forth a leathern
pouch, and taking from it six julios, gave them
to the cobbler. Then, patting the young Anto-
nio's head, and placing under his arm his new
purchase, he bade adieu to the worthy man, who
was still laughing merrily at the jest of his son
becoming a bishop, and the Franciscan a pope.
" A long credit I" said the good shoemaker to
himself, as he went on with his pegging, after
the monk had disappeared on the dusty highway.
The Franciscan leisurely pursued his journey
along the road leading towards the great city of
the Seven Hills. What his thoughts were, are
not chronicled, hut certain it was that a smile
ever and anon trembled around his placid lips,
as a recollection of the merry bargain he had
made with the cobbler, transiently occurred to
him. And it was, in sooth, occasion for mirth
to think of such an event in the future as that he,
an humble priest of St. Francis, and late a sim-
ple bachelor of divinity, should be Pope of Rome,
and that a debt of one julio was dependent upon
the contingency. However, as the day wore on,
graver meditations began to take possession of
the monk's mind, and gave a shadow to his
countenance; and, presently, the approach of
night, accompanied by a sudden gusty rain-
storm, forced him to quicken his pace, in order
to seek shelter and repose in some one of the
many religious bouses Ijing upon the road to
Rome. He abandoned his dilapidated sandals
for the substantial shoes purchased of the pious
cobbler, and it was well he did so ; for, as the
darkness closed in, and the rain beat upon his
pathway, many were the thumps and blows
which the thick fabric of his new acquisition pre-
vented his feet from feeling, on the rough road
which he traversed. Nevertheless, though our
F'ranciscan's course led him in the vicinity of
several convents belonging to his own order, he,
singularly enough, avoided asking hospitality at
any one of these, but journeyed on, through the
darkness and storm, until he at length reached
the gate of a convent of Augufitincs, at which he
knocked boldly and demanded shclicr,
A lay-hrolhcr opened the wicket, and admitted
our pedestrian, not, however, without closely
sciinning his Franciscan gfirb; but, us the new
comer was evidently a stranger, tho circum-
stance of his not seeking a convent of his own
order, if commented on at all, was attributed to
his having been benighted ; so he was speedily
ushered into the presence of Father Salviati, tho
superior of the monastery. Salviati received his
visitor with the urbanity natural to a benevolent
nature; and it was not long before the two
priests were seated together in the i-efectory, par-
taking of the frugal convent fare, and enjoying
a pleasant and edifying conversation. The
Franciscan discovered himself to be a man of
erudition, with polished manners, and enlarged
views of religion and mankind, while the good
prior, on his part, listened like a sensible host, or
conversed with a happy appreciation of his com-
panion, until a tone of confidence and mutual
nflability imparted to their intercourse a sort of
intimacy ; so much so, indeed, that when the
hour for retirement approached, the excellent
Salviati tendered, the half of his own couch to
his new acquaintance.
Betimes, in the morning, our Franciscan
arose, and, after partaking with the prior of the
matutinal meal, prepared to renew his course
towards Rome. But, before taking leave of his
Augustine host, he said, in the mild tone which
was his wont, —
" Good brother Salviati, I have a boon to
crave,"
"If it be in my power to grant, of a surety it
is thine," answered the prior.
"Inasmuch, then, said the Franciscan monk,
exhibiting his yacant money pouch, "as lam
without money, with a journey before me, lend
me four crowns, and I will be thy debtor
forever."
" Gladly, brother," cried the good Salviati.
" I will hasten to get thee the sum."
Saying this, he went quickly to fetch the sil-
ver, while the Franciscan, calling for an ink-
horn, drew a note of promise, in a clerkly hand,
and signed boldly, " Gregory Buono." Then,
receiving the four crowns from Salviati, assuring
their speedy return, the monk bade adieu to the
Augustine convent.
Prior Salviati w^aited long, after that morning,
for the return of his Franciscan guest. But years
rolled away, and no tidings of the four crowns
was received. Diligent search was instituted
among the various houses of the order of St.
Francis, but all inquiries resulted in the certain-
ty that no such a name a-s " Gregory Buono "
had ever been registered on their books. So
Prior Salviati concluded that his pleasant guest
would remain, as he had promised, his " debtor
forever."
PART SECOND.
Many years glided over the serene convent
life of Father Salviati, changing the young man
to the old, and marking by wrinkles and furrows
his progress toward the new life beyond, where
the "mortal shall put on immortality." But
Father Salviati's heart was not one which grows
old, and, therefore, it was sad and sombre v;hen
injustice rudely visited it. Thus one morning,
thirty years or more after the events of our first
part, the prior sat sorrowfully meditating upon
a reprimand which he had the day before re-
ceived from his diocesan superior, the bishop,
who was disposed (as is many a like dignitary
now-a-days) to quarrel with an humble priest on
the slightest pretext. And not only had the
bishop reprimanded poor Salviati, he had more-
over complained of him to the congregation of
cardinals; and the unhappy prior was now in
fearful expectation of receiving some heavier
dispensation — perhaps even a removal from the
superiorship of the small convent in which he
had passed his life, and won the love of all
around him.
What, then, was the dismay of the unfortu-
nate Salviati, to behold, advancing towards the
convent, four monks, of stern aj^pearance, and
clad in tlic habit of his order, who, deigning no
salutation at the gate, demanded at once to see
the prior 1
"I am he," said Salviati, going to meet them,
though with great foreboding.
" Then you must go with us directly," said
one of the monks, sharply. " We are command-
ed by the general to conduct you to Rome."
On hearing mention of the general of the Au-
gustines, who was known to be a very severe
dignitary, poor Salviati 'gave himself up for
lost; neveriheless, submitting humbly to the
messengers, he placed himself between them,
and fhuH guarded, like a great criminal, was
marched from h'la convent to the Eternal City,
The bi.-ihop, who had complained of the prior
on 11 very tjifling ju'ovocation, was at first
alarmed at the summary and o.stentatious man-
ner in wliich (he arrest had been made; hut
mueh more startled was he, to Icnm that the
pope hira.self had ordered it,— the new pope,
Sixtus V,, who had just succeeded to the papal
chair, and was making all the corrupt church-
men tremble in their scarlet robe?, for fear of his
impartial severity. However, the proud bishop
made no doubt that his complaint had been the
cause of the prior's trouble; so he scitlcd him-
.sclf back on his purple cuihions, and said, " I
am mighty glad I have found a way to curb the
insolence of these priests. AVe must do these
things, sometimes, to humble such people, and
teach them to behave with proper respect to their
bishop."
Therefore, notwithstanding that several friends
of Salviati, immediately on hearing of what had
befallen, interceded to make his peace with the
episcoijal dignitary, that latter personage would
not budge an inch, but replied, that the affair,
being now in the general's hands, must take its
course.
In the meantime, our poor prior, guarded by
the four monks, was taken to the palace of the
Augustine general, v/ho received him in omi-
nous silence, and conducted him at once to the
Vatican. And there, in the ante-room of the
pope's audience-chamber, we will for the present
leave him, tremblingly awaiting the pontifi^'s ap-
pearance, while the severe general threatens him
with terrible looks. For ourselves, reader, we
shall return to another person of our story — the
shoemaker of thirty years before.
Thirty years work many changes, but they
did not materially improve the worldly prospects
of the pious cobbler. It is ti-ue, he never suf-
fered want, and the hopes "of bis heart were in a
measure realized, for his son Antonio, after ear-
ly evincing a religious turn, had become at
length a servite in orders, and was reputed to be
very learned, having been educated by the
monks, and very pious, being one of them. He
had forgotten, long since, we may be sure, about
the seventh julio, and the lasting credit he gave
to the Franciscan ; but he was destined to be
reminded of it in a summary way.
For, one morning, as our good cobbler sat
stitching at his shop-door, just as in his youthful
days, he was mightily surprised to behold draw
up in the road before him, the governor of the
neighboring town, with a military guard. Not
knowing wherein he had ofi'ended the laws, he
was, nevertheless, grievously alarmed at being
made a prisoner by the soldiers, bundled upon a
horse, and trotted away on the high road to
Rome, without as much as "by your leave," on
the part of his captors. However, being, as w^e
have seen, a good Catholic and honest shoemak-
er, he placed his trust in Heaven, and endeavored
to accommodate his muscles to the jolting gait
of the high-backed animal which bore him.
Thus entered he the great city, and thus was he
conducted to the papal palace, and presently
ushered into the pontiff's presence.
The pope looked at the trembling artizan, fix-
edly, for some minutes, and then spoke in a
voice which seemed awful as the thunder, albeit
it was not a very powerful one, — for Sixtus,
though a majestic prince, was not a giant of a
man, — " Son, hast thou ever seen me before '?"
The wretched cobbler was nearly frightened
out of his wits; but he made shift to reply,
" Never, your holiness, that I recollect."
"What !" says Sixtus, looking sternly at him,
"Dost thou not remember that 1 once bought a
pair of shoes of thee V
The shoemaker was more confused than
ever, for his adventure with the monk had quite
departed from his memory. He stammered out,
therefore, that he knew nothing of the circimi-
stance.
" Then," said the popo, " I must remember for
you. I am in your debt, and sent for you hither
that I may pay you."
The shoemaker remained speechless, and the
pope continued, more familiarly, — 'Thiity years
ago you sold me a pair of shoes, and on the
price of them you gave me credit for one julio,
which I promised to pay, with interest, when I
should become pope. That is now come to pass.
I, who was a poor Franciscan mouk, am now
pope, and I have a mind to show myself an hon-
est man, by being as good as my woid. Then,
GLEASOX'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
407
summoning his major tlomo, Sixtus ordered him
to ascertain to bow much the interest of a julio
amounted in thirty years. The officer answered
n\^o jutios, whereupon the pontiif commanded
him to pay the principal and interest to his
creditor.
' Now the shoemaker, vrtiile the pope vras
speaking lo his major domo, had been recalling
the incidents of his early life, and brought to
mind his encounter with the Franciscan. And
the discovery that his ancient debtor was now*
arrived at so great dignity, gave rise, naturally,
io anticipations of some solid benefit to himself.
He waS; therefore, a good deal chagrined, as may
be imagined, when the major domo tendered him
the small sum of three jalios, and the pope, in a
fatherly manner, gave him his blessing, and with
'' Andale in pace!'' politely waved him away.
However, he humbly kissed the sacred slipper,
and departed from the pontiff's presence, though
not without inward grumbling ; especially, when,
before leaving the palace, the major-domo de-
manded from him a receipt in full for the three
julios.
Muttering to himself, then, in nowise pleased
with the summary treatment he had received, he
was hurrying away from the Vatican, when who
t-hould he suddenly encounter but his own son
Antonio, the servite, whom he had thought to be
many miles away from Rome ! The priest, on
his part, was no less astonished to behold his
father emerging from the papal palace, and he
hastened to ask the occasion of so strange a cir-
cumstance.
" Faith," answered the old man, " I am here
without having much to do in the matter myself.
I was brought by a band of soldiers, with a gov-
ernor at their head."
"And for what purpose, father?"
" Truly," answered the cobbler, *'his holiness
the pope could find no other way to pay me
three julios." And so he proceeded to relate to
the servite all the circumstances connected with
his knowledge of the sovereign pontiff, not for-
getting to complain, at the end, that the journey
and return would probably cost him twenty
crowns. " And this," muttered he, " for a beg-
garly three julios."
"Hush!" said tlio priest; "it is not well to
speak so boldly. Btit what can his holiness
want with me ? for I have been summoned lo
Rome by my superior, and ordered to attend
this hour at the Vatican."
" You will leam that presently," said a voice
near them, and the cobbler perceived that his
friend, the major-domo, had followed his foot-
steps, and been witness of his meeting with his
son. " You may both return with me to his
holiness, for he has not done with eitiier of
you !"
This was said in a stern voice, and the poor
j-lioemaker turned pale at the thought of his rash
complaint being reported to the pope. How-
ever, he had nothing to do but lo obey orders ;
and so, with his son Antonio, retraced his course
to the palace.
"VVe left Prior Salviati in an ante-chamber of
the Vatican, awail ing, in company with his
gloomy general, the appearance of the sovereign
pontiif. It is easy to fancy that his thoughts
were clouded with apprehensions, nor were these
dissipated by the entry of tlic pope, and the se-
vere accents in which that exalted personage ad-
dressed him. " You are called Salviati?''
The prior i'cW on his knees, and began to make
apologies and excuses for hii deportment to-
wards the bishop, offering to humble himself be-
fore that prelate with any required penance.
Sixtus listened to his protestations very gravely,
until he had ended, and then said :
" You are to he reprehended for behaving in a
disrespectful manner to your bishop ; but that is
not the occasion of our sending for you at this
time. At present you are accused of embezzling
the goods and revenue of your convent; a griev-
ous misdemeanor, for which we shall hold you
to a strict account. First, however, we are will-
ing to hear what you have to say for yourself."
Salviati w"as thunderstruck at this accusation;
but, reflecting that his administration of affairs
in the religious house of which he was prior, had
l)cen always conducted with integrity, and that,
indeed, the convent revenues, under his good
management and economy, had been considera-
bly augmented, he took courage, and with confi-
dent innocence replied to the pope :
"If your holiness shall adjudge me guilty of
this charge, I will submit to any punishment
wliich it is thouglit proper to inflict upon ine."
" Take care how you say that," rejoined Six-
tus, sternly. " We have proof sufficient to con-
vict you! You cannot deny that in the year
1564 a religious monk, of the Franciscan order,
lodged in your Augustine convent, and that you
furnished him, the next morning, with four
crowns, which he never repaid you. !Now, we
desire to know, by what right you disposed of
your convent's money in that manner?''
Prior Salviati was silent for some moment^;,
recalling the incident adverted to by the pontiff.
He then ventured to say ;
"It is very true, most holy father; and I
should have lent that Franciscan more, if lie had
asked it of me ; for I took him to be an honest
man. But he proved a knave and rascal, and
gave me a note with a sham name on it. And,
notwithstanding I have often inquired concern-
ing the ingrate, I have never been able to hear
ought of him."
Sixtus smiled at the warmth with which the
good prior spoke, and answered ;
" You need be at no further trouble about that
Franciscan ; for, take my word, you will never
find him. But he hjis ordered us to pay that
debt of four crowns, and, moreover, return you
his thanks. Arc you content to take us for your
debtor V
Salviati now trembled more then ever, for he
began to recall something fdiniliar in the pope's
face, and to suspect that he himself was llie
Franciscan ; and, thinking of the harsh terms of
" knave " and " rascal " which he had just used,
he was much concerned about the result. But
Sixtus, who perceived his agitation, put an end
to his api)rehcnsions by continuing;
" It is time, good Salviati, to show our grati-
tude. We are the person to whom your kind-
ness was shoviTi; and as yoli received us hospit-
ably in your convent, it is but just we should
entertain you in our palace."
So saying, he gave the prior his hand to kiss,
and then turning lo the general of Augustines,
informed him that he himself would dispose of
all complaints against Salviati. So the general
hastened away from the Vatican, and wrote to
the bishop who had accused the priest, that the
latter, instead of being punished, as was expect-
ed, had been assigned an apartment in the pal-
ace, and was entertained by the pope like one of
his relations. And scarcely had the general
departed, than the pope's major-domo re-enter-
ed, conducting our shoemaker, and his son
Antonio.
Sixtus received them smilingly, and address-
ing Salviati, said, " This good shoemaker once
trusted me with a julio, in the purchase of a
pair of shoes. I have paid him principal and
interest, but for fear he is not satisfied, have sent
fur his son, to make him a bishop."
"A bishop !" cried the cobbler, falling on his
knees, while Antonio trembled, not daring to lift
his eyes.
" And why not a bisliop V asked the pontiff".
"I believe it is according to the terms of our
bargain ; and as I have inquired strictly, and
found your son Antonio to be a pious and
learned priest, I think it will be doing no wrong
to the church to make him a pious and learned
bishop !"
'The 2>oor old cobbler, unable to contain him-
self, threw his arms about his son's neck, and
wept aloud, v/hile Sixtus turned to Prior Salvi-
aji, and said :
" You perceive we have settled a claim of one
julio. A debt of four crowns must bear higher
interest. So, good Salviati, prepare 3'ourself,
shortly, for an arch episcopate. And, in the
meantime, I desire that you and my other cred-
itor, the shoemaker, wili place your signatures
in this book, that Pope Sixtus may be able to
show receipts in full from both of you."
With these words, the pontiff' produced a large
book, clasped with iron, in which, to the great
surprise of Salviati, he beheld, upon a remote
page, his own name and that of his convent, and
a little farther back, the name and residence of
the shoemaker,, with a memoranda of the debt
of one julio and the loan of four crowns in 15(5-4.
It was a diary of the life of Francis Peretti,
from the time of his bachelorship and poverty,
till he became cardinal, and, thereafter. Pope
Sixtus v.; and in its pages were chronicled all
the good services which he had received from
different pei'sons throughout his struggles, with
the names of his bcncfaciors. And on the title-
page of this book were illumined the words :
MEMENTO VIVO RUM.
There remains little more to rehearse, save
tliat the bishop v.-ho had accused Salviati. died of
apoplexy and vexation, on hearing of the priest's
good fortune ; and Antonio, the shoemaker's
son, was promoted lo the vacant bishopric.
Salviati became an archbishop, and subsequent-
ly, we believe, a cardinal, and all lived long
enough to lament-the decease of their benefactor
Sixtus.
And now, for the moral of this historical ro-
mance. X\^ti v/ill simply enjoin upon such cred-
itors as may be harsh upon poor men of genius,
who are their debtors, to consider that perhaps
these, like Pope Sixtus, may keep a M':me/ito
Vir.unm, in which to chronicle those things done
unto them in their low estate.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE STARS.
BY JOSEPH H. BUILEB.
Ye brilliaut stars 1 ye seeming islea of !ipht
In the hike mirrored round me, and above
Sparkling unnumbered, what and whence are jc7
Can yc he worlds like thie, blighted and sick
With ein imd sorrow? No ; ye look too fair !
I will not tliink you such, but rather deem
Ye ai-e the resting-places of the dead,
"VVho, disembodied, on the wing of faith
Win their fur passage to your unkno«-n isles 1
The more intent I gaze, the thicker come
Those rising worlds of light, till all the deep
Infinitude of space is sparkling blight
With mystic fires — till I could almost bend
Scforo and worship, were it not that lie
AVho made you must be fdr more glorious still,
And wortiiier of my woi-shiiJ — dust they arc
On the high footpath of the Eternal One 1
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial.]
THE WAY TO WASHINGTON.
No. IV.
BT B. PERLET POORE.
" Check your baggage through to Washing-
ton V inquired the baggage-master at New
York. " Certainly," was my reply, for I fear
my wayside chat may be prosy, and wish to
reach the metropolis in season to have my Brst
budget of metropolitan gossip unfolded in the
first number of the new volume of " Gleason's
Pictorial." So away I went, the cars traversing
(he blood stained, hallowed soil of New Jersey,
and depositing their freight at Philadelphia at
early dinner-time.
Philadelphia ! Rectangular and cleauly city,
where glide along those demure Quakeresses,
*• on whose calm faces the dove hath folded
w'ing;" — and where periodical American litera-
ture re'gned, until Mr. Gleason transferred the
seat of empire to Boston ! Thousands traverse
the city with no souvenirs save those of fair ho-
tels and rascally hackmen ; hundreds patriotically
content themselves with visiting the hall wherein
the magna charta of our independence was
signed, but how few — even from Boston — ever
make a pilgrimage to the tomb of that sixteenth
sjn of a poor taliow-chandler, whose name is
written, with electric brilliancy, upon the proud-
est pages of American history. It is in Arch
Street churchyard — simple, massive and endur-
ing as the great man whose ashes it covers, and
upon the marble slab is insciibed :
" EE>'jA3tiN AXD Peborau Franeli:*."
One of the prominent festivals in Pliiladelphia,
b}' the way, in the memory of the oldest inhabit-
ants, is the visit of the Boston City Guards in
1831. They were received by a division of uni-
formed militia, and among other visits, marched
to St. Paul's Church, where they heard a sermon
from the Rev. Mr. Tyng, formerly a member of
the Guards. Their uniibrtn, in those days, was
a gray coat, tastefully trimmed, white panta-
loons, high cap, and long black feather. They
were served by the Boston Brigade Band, whose
fame had preceded them.
But the baggage is " checked through," and
the Bahiniore train is impatient to be off, from
a magnificent station-house, with a wide-span-
ning iron roof. It — the new station-house — is
the work of Mr. Engineer Pelton, a brother of
Professor Felton, both of them natives of the
pleasant town of West Newbury, which lies em-
braced by the Jlerrimac, like a pretty girl en-
circled by a loving arm. Oti" go the can;, " bilin'
and bustin' and sleamin' on't along," as the old
lady remarked, " not stopping to take up no-
body— not slopping to set down nobody — and
runnin^ over horned creeters like all possessed."
It is a tedious ride to Baltimore, only enlivened
by a ^QYYYy across which every one makes ready
for a rush on reaching the other side. Then,
what a "stampede." Ladies stand no chanee,
and dignity has all its starch taken out, or gets a
bad seat. Four years ago, the river was frozen
so solidly that passengers walked over, and
among those with whom I thus crossed, was a
burly gentleman, who had a heavy carpet bag,
and a pleasant eye. No one offered to help him
carry his carpet bag, or paid him much defer-
ence, for he was simply the vice president elect,
without an office at his disposal. But v-'hen, not
very many montlis afterwards, I again travelled
in company with Mr. Fillmore, wlio had become
President, what a difierence ! Surrounded by
anxious expectants, he could not then have car-
ried an umbrella without kind requests to be re-
lieved of the ti-ouble. So goes the world !
The Chinese have a way of executing capital
punishment by depriving criminals of sleep, and
if any one wishes to see what the first sensations
of continual fifteen minutes " wakings up" are,
let him journey from Philadelphia to Baltimore.
Both by day and by night, b-'t particularly by
night, do the conductors perambulate the cars,
rousing all who are nodding, and ordering them
to "show tickets!" The only relief is to gaze
anxiously out at the machinery of the telegraph,
and indulge in conjectures as to what is passing
over those wiry nerves of the press —
" In a thousand miles fiaeh —
In a tick, quick and low;
With a dash (— ), dot (.), daah {— ),
As I write, or nearly so ;
Over State— Stite— State-
Skipping from pole to polo.
And heamiog fate — fat-e —
Unto heart— purse— soul."
Baltimore, the city of monuments and canvas-
back ducks, of hospitable mansions and of uolde
Catholic fanes, merits more than a passing no-
tice, but the inexorable baggage check warns ua
off. Here settled the only noble " pilgrims ;" for
while the intolerance and persecution which was
desolating England was transplanted to Ply-
mouth, and to Virginia, and to Pennsylvania,
George Calvert — Lord Baltimore — secured pros-
perity for his colony by building it upon the
foundation of religious freedom and liberty of
thought. High honor to his memory I
Annapolis Junction is next reached, where the
cai's are generally invaded by a gallant-looking
bevy of youngsters, whose anchor-buttons show
that tliey belong to the Naval School, and are in
future years to uphold the "stars and stripes "
on our unconquered naval force. Then we cross
Bladenburg Creek, where the British forces wliip
— no, marched too fast for the Americans in the
last war, making them run like good fellowij.
Creak — creak — they are "braking up" the card,
and here we are in "Washington. Had it been
daylight, I could have seen the capitol some
miles off, and have, perhaps, written something
fine about "first impressions," but as it "was
pitch-dark, my thoughts were of supper and a
fireside.
A fireside ! Seated before the glowing coals,
with the rough storm weltering against the win-
dow panes, the best affections gush forth, like
sunshine after summer clouds. The holydara
are at hand, too, and will be here by the time
these thoughts are embalmed in printer's ink,
although the boyish enthusiasm with which I
once hailed Christmas is no more. Experience
of our own nature, or the shifting circnmstaneea
of life, gives a more sombre color to every revo-
lution of time, and we look at the world through
glasses of darker and darker shades, deeper and
deeper, until comes the final one which is to be
the last.
But "MeriT Christmas" is not a time for
croaking, for the recollection of the day when an-
gels sang ; " Glory to God in the highest, on
earth peace, and good will towards men !" should
inspire lively emotions. True, to enjoy the pue-
try of Christmas, one must cross the waters to
Old England, and there witness its clan-like gatli-
erings, its laugh of loud joy, its tables groaning
under feasts, it^ halls of plenty and welcome, it3
donations, its music, its piety, its green and fes-
tive honors. The most temperate, then, do not re-
fuse a glass from the " Wassail Bowl," filled with
home-brewed malt liquor, recking hot.
Though you, gentle readers, may not taste tlie
"Wassail Bowl," yet you all enjoy Mr. Gle.i-
son's well-fillpd sheet, sparkling ^^ith gems of
art, and replete with wholesome literature. My
weekly contributions, for some time fo come, will
be a description of men and manners in this our
national metropolis. And. avaiUng myself of
our past and future acquaintance, let me tender
you the old bcnison — tiiat which falls like magic
on the heart*-:* MtRKv Christmas !
4(8
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
GRACE AND TRINITY CHURCHES.
On this and the opposite page we pre-
sent pictures of Grace Church, and Trin-
ity Church, New York — the former at the
upper part of Broadway, the latter tiitua-
tcd at tlio head of Wall street. Tlieso
are two of the finest structures of tho
same clniractcr in America, and are very
similar in stylo of architecture ; indeed
our readers will observe at once, that if tlic
two engravings had been published in
different numbers of the Pictoriul, it would
have been dilhcult for ihcm to have dis-
criminated between them. Grace Church
is situated so far " up town " that it would
he supposed to attract to its service more
of the class termed the "upper ten ;" hut
this is not the case. '1 he long-established
and inHucntial corporation of Trinity is
the wealthiest on this continent, and its
services are attended by the richest and
proudest citizens of New York. Both are
Episcopal, both richly endowed, but Trin-
ity so far surpasses Grace Church in its
possessions, that we must detail a little
more of its history. Grace Church is a
comparatively modern structure, and
though a few years since it was just at
the outskirts of New York city, being
nearly up to Union Square, it is now, so
swiftly has the city increased its popula-
tion and dimensions, in the very heart of
the town. The riches of Trinity Church
consist principally of real estate in the
city of New York, now valued at several
millions of dollars. In Phelps's New York
City Guide wc find the following statis-
tics of Trinity Chui'ch : The first edifice
erected upon its present site was reared
in 169G, during the reign of William
and iVlary. Queen Anne endowed it, and
presented it with silver communion plate.
The buildmg was enlarged in 1735, and
again in 1737. In the great conflagration
in 1796, it was destroyed, and was not re-
built until after the war. The new edifice
was completed in 1799. In 1834 it was
demolished, and the present costly struc-
ture was commenced. It was completed
in 1846. The material of which Trinity
Church is built is a handsome brown
stone from New Jersey. The architect
was Mr. Upjohn ; the ornamental stone
work was wrought under the direction of
the late Mr. Thorn, the Scotch sculptor,
whose beautiful composition, " Old Mor-
tality," graces the entrance to Laurel Hill
cemetery, near Philadelphia {a fine pic-
ture of which we shall soon give our read-
ers). The edifice is 192 feet in length,
by 80 in width, with walls GO feet high.
The style is Gothic, of the chastest char-
acter. The tower and spire, the most
elaborate and costly in the country, rise
to an altitude of 284 feet. In the tower is an excoUont chime of
bells, which send forth their music every day. The tower and
spire are open to visitors daily, except on Sunday and during the
morning and evening services, which occur from nine to half-past
nine in the morning, and from three to half-past three in the
afternoon. Visitors may ascend by a spiral stairway of 308 steps
to the height of 2.'>0 feet, whence a magnificent view of the city
and suiTOunding scenery may be obtained. The best position
from which to view this gorgeous panorama is the battlements
at the base of the spii-e. AH around you perceive the I'oofs and
VIEW OF GRACE CHURCH, BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
chimneys of the great city, seemingly piled in confusion, and
stretching away northward to the extent of vision. On the west,
south and east, there is a fringe of merchant ships and smaller
craft at their moorings, while the expanse of water is dotted with
moving vessels propelled by steam, wafted by the breeze, or moved
by the strong arm of the oarsman. It is a scene of rare beauty and
interest, and may be seen any week-day from the battlements of
the tower of Trinity Church. No fee is exacted from visitors, but
who would enjoy the glorious siglit, without dropping a small
coin into the hand of the obliging attendant below ?
ALMS HOUSE, DEER ISLAND.
Our artist, Mr. Mallory, has given us,
below, a very excellent and truthful
drawing of the new Alms House, at Deer
Island, Boston harbor. The excellence
and importance of this institution has
been amply tested, and the citizens of
Boston can fully realize the benefit of
Buch an establishment to all classes. In
tho Boston Almanac for 1851, wc find
an account, from which we gather the
following important details of descrip'
tion of the picture, which wc present for
the information and gratification of the
numerous readers of our illumined paper.
The form of this structure is that of a
" Latin Cross," having its four wings ra-
diating at right angles from a " central
building." The central building is four
stories high; the lower story (on a uni-
form level with the cellars or work-rooms
of the north, east, and west wings) con-
tains the bathing-rooms, cleansing-rooms,
furnace, and fuel rooms ; the two next
stories contain the general guard-room,
to be used also as a work-room ; the next
story is the chapel ; and the upper story
is the hospital. The south wing is four
stories high ; the lower one contains the
family kitchen and entry of the superin-
tendent's family ; the second is appropri-
ated for the family parlors of the superin-
tendent, and a room for the use of the di-
rectors, together with the entrances and
staircases, and the openings or carriage
way, for receiving paupers. The stair-
cases communicating with the guard-
room, and with the cleansing-rooms in
the lower story of the central building,
are also located in this story. The two
remaining stories will be used for the
family sleeping-rooms — together with the
entries, passages, closets, and staircases.
Each of the north, east, and west wings Ib
three stories high, with basements and
attics over the whole surface of each wing.
The basements are for work rooms. The
remaining stories, including the attics,
contain the wards, hospitals, and day-
rooms for the inmates, together with the
sleeping and inspection rooms for the
nurses and attendants. There are eight
circular towers attached to the exterior
walls of the north, east, and west wings ;
they contain the water closets requisite
for the inmates of the building ; two of
them contain staircases. The dimensions
of the building are as follows, in round
numbers : The centre building is 7.5, feet
square and 75 feet high.eafh perpendicu-
lar comer being subtended by the section
of a circle. The superintendent's house,
if the building faces the west, makes the
west side of the centre building, except
the circular corners, and is thiown out by these corners 50 feet by
50 on the ground, and 50 hi^h ; so that it stands almost as much
sep.arated from the main building as if it were entirely disconnect-
ed with it, and is still near enough for the convenience of the su-
perintendent. The north wing, intended particularly for women,
is 100 feet by 50, and 50 feet high. The south wing, intended
for men, is of the same dimensions. The cast wing, intended for
different classes, is 200 feet by 50, and 50 feet high. As paupers
arrive, they are received by the superintendent, and placed in the
several parts of the building to which they may belong.
iiTi! If p I r« " " ' M "H. t t t L E*
I 1 r *Tj iin't I '
III < I i'l ii *
: II I 1 1 1 1 ( < '
VIEW OF THE NEW ALMSHOUSE, DEER ISLAND, BOSTON HARBOR.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING IIOOM COMPANION.
409
CANAL BOATS ON THE NORTH RtVER, NEW YORK.
CANAL BOATS, AT NEW YORK.
* Next to the immense foreign export and import trade, comes
the inland trade. The whole of the western country from Lake
Superior finds a depot at New York. The larger quantity of
produce finds its way to the Erie Canal, from thence to the Hudson
River to New York The canal boats run from New York to
Buffalo, and vice versa. These boats are made very strong,
being bound round by extra guards, to protect them from the
many thumps they are subject to. They are towed from Albany
to New York — from ten to twenty — by a steamboat, loaded with
all the luxuries of the West. The view represented above is tak-
en from Pier No. 1, East River, giving a slight idea of the im-
mense trade which, next to foreign trade, sets New York alive
with action. We subjoin from a late census a schedule of the
trade; the depot of which, and the modus operandi, Mr. Wade,
our artist, has represented in the engraving above, in so truthful
and lifelike a manner. In 1840, there were 474, .i43 horses and
mules, 1,911,244 neat cattle, 5,118,777 sheep, 1 900.065 swine, poul-
try valued at £1,153,413, 12,286,418 bushels of wheat, 2,520,060
do. of barley, 20.605,847 do. of oats, 2,979,323 do. of rye,
2,287,885 do. of buckwheat, 10,972 286 do. of Indian corn,
9,845,295 lbs. of wool, 447,250 do. of hops, 30,133,614 bushels of
potatoes, 3,127,047 tons of hay, 10,048,109 pounds of sugar,
RING PRESENTED TO GEN. PIERCE.
It is already pretty widely known to the public generally that
a number of the citizens of San Francisco have caused to be man-
ufactured and forwarded to Gen. Pierce, a most valuable and
unique present, in the form of a massive gold ring, as a token of
esteem for the president elect. Of this ring our artist has here-
with given us an admirable representation. It is a massive gold
ring, weighing upwards of half a pound. This monster ring, for
chasteness of design, elegance of execution, and high style of fin-
ish, has, perhap'^, no equal in the world. The design is by Mr.
George Blake, a mechanic of San Francisco. The circular por-
tion of the ring is cut into squares, which stand at right angles
with each other, and are embellished each with a beautifully exe-
cuted design, the entire group presenting a pictorial history of
California, from her primitive sratc down to her present flour-
ishing condition, under
the flag of our Union.
Thus, there is given a
grizzly bear in a men-
acing attitude, a deer
bounding down a slope,
an enraged boa, a soar-
ing eagle and a salmon.
the staffs crossed and groups of stars in the angles. The part of
the ring reserved for a seal is covered by a solid and deeply carv-
ed plate of gold, bearing the arms of the State of California in the
centre, surmounted by the banner and stars of the United States,
and inscribed with "Frank Pierce," in old Roman characters.
This lid opens upon a hinge, and presents to view underneath a
square box, divided by bars of gold into nine separate compart-
ments, each containing a pure specimen of the varieties of ore
found in the country. Upon the inside is the following inscrip-
tion ; *' Presented to Frank Pierce, the Fowieenth President of the
United States." The ring is valued at S2000. Our engraving
gives a separate view of the lid, so as to represent the appearance
of the top of the ring both when it is open and when it is closed.
Altogether, it is a massive and superb affair, rich in emblematical
design and illustration, and worthy its object.
GOLD RING FROM CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO TO GEN. PIERCE.
1735 lbs. of silk cocoons ; the products of the dairy, S10,496,021 ;
the orchard, $1,701 ,935; lumber, $3,891,302 ; 6799 gallons of wine.
In this connection we may say, the Hudson and Erie Canal is a
noble work of enterprise. It passes from Albany along the west-
ern bank of Hudson River, until it meets the Mohawk; then runs,
in a northwesterly direction, up the southwestern bank of the riv-
er, to the town of Rome, where it turns more westerly, on a sum-
mit level of about sixty miles, without a lock, and, passing in a
line corresponding, in some measure, to the direction of the south-
ern shoie of Lake Ontario, and crossing the Seneca and Genesee
Rivers in its course, communicates with Lake Eric at Buffalo, 363
miles from Albany. But canals are fast giving place to railroads,
speed in business being the order of the day.
Then wc have the Indian
with his bow and arrow,
the primitive weapon of
self-defence ; the native
mountaineer on horse-
back, and a Califomian
on horseback, throwing
his lasso Next peeps
out a Califomian tent.
Then you see a miner at
work, with his pick, the
whole being shaded by
two American flags, with
VIEW OF TRINITY CHURCH, BROADWAY, NEW YORK. [See opposite page.]
110
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAAVING ROOM COMPANION.
[Written for Gloa«on's rictorial.]
THE JUNIATA VALJUEY.
DX LIEUT. E. OUIlTieS niNE.
Whuro tho winding Junluta,
Sptirklin^, gU'Jen towiir(Js the wea,
DviM a piHMloSf: Indiun malJcn,
And hvv nlop wna liglit imd I'roB.
Smiled elio in the eiirly niovuinir,
Sung sho in tho hush of noon :
Making niusiu liku thi) brooklet,
Or tlic nlyhtlngiilo's sucet tuuo!
Unppy wiis tho young Khuina,
Like the ?jii'ing\vith bluHhing flowers,
Were her round chutka full of roses
Culled from health's roi'plendi'ut howers ;
And lier 03 <; wii9 like 11 Btar-beiim
In tbo fjoety, wintry nigbt,
When the sheeted finowfl are uhluing.
And the moonlit world is bright.
In the Juniata valley,
In tho days long long gone by,
Drooped the smiling young Klniinii,
I'lile her cheek nnd dim her eye.
By the blue and winding rltor,
May bo seen a grassy mound ;
Thew thoy laid the Indian maiden,
And she Blumbers sweet and sound.
[Writteu for Oleasou's Pictorial.]
THE TAVO WILLS.
BY MRS. CAROLINE OKNE.
Many years ago, it being sometime j^revious
to the Kevolation, a large and imposing, though
somewhat irregular mansion, situated in the
midst of grounds so extensive as to form an al-
most princely domain, was in possession of a
gentleman by the name of Philip Neville. This
estate was in one of the finest and most fertile
districts of the Old Dominion, and Mr. Neville,
who was a younger son of an English nobleman,
maintained much of the state, and exercised the
same liberal hospiiality, practised by the country
gentlemen of his native land.
It was a fine morning in autumn, and Mr.
Neville stood near a window, with an open letter
in his hand. A cloud was on his brow, and his
lips were tightly compressed, as if he were un-
der the influence of some angry feeling.
"A letter from my cousin, Kichard Morton,"
said he, as he raised his eyes, and met the in-
quiring glance of a gentleman present, by the
name of Barclay. " He pretends that this es-
tate belongs to him."
" On what grounds V inquired Barclay.
" He asserts that my uncle, the original owner,
cancelled the will which he made in my favor a
few years previous to his decease, and made one
in his ; but as no such will is to be found, I have
a right to believe that no such one is in exis-
tence."
" Do you know what reason he has for his
assertion?"
" He says that Uncle Neville, only a few hours
before he died, told him that he bad made a new
will, and given the property to him, but failed to
designate the place where it was deposited. He
now calls upon me to relinquish the estate, and
intimates in rather broad terms, that if I don't
accede to his demand, he shall not hesitate to re-
present me as a man without honor or integri-
ty. Had it not been for this threat, I might
have consented to a compromise."
" There is no knowing," said Barclay, " that
the will your uncle mentioned to him had any
existence, except in his imagination. He might
not, when he spoke of itj have been in his right
mind. At any rate, were I in your place, I
should let the matter rest at piesent. If there is
a will, it must certainly come to light."
If Mr. Neville and his friend had any inten-
tion of pursuing the subject further, they were
prevented by the entrance of a young girl about
seventeen. Her name was Agnes Granville, and
to a form of almost faultless symmetry, was
added a face of great beauty and sweetness of
expression. Mr, Neville was her step-father.
Her mother, a young widow when she became
his wife, died in a few years afterward, and since
tlien, Agnes had truly been the light of his home.
Pie had always intended that she should be sole
heiress to his estate. If the will alluded to
bliould be found, he would not have even a home
to give her, for he would himself be homeless.
At her appearance, the cloud which had dark-
ened his brow disappeared, a> if by magic ; but
it returned as his eye fell on the open letter,
which he still held in his hand, l^r a moment,
he resolved to acquaint her with its contents, but
^vhcn he raised his eyes to her bright and beam-
' r-oimtenancc, hi^ heart failed him.
" Why," thouglit he, " should a shadow fall
across her ])alh a moment sooner ihan can be
avoided?"
The morning which liad been so Idand and
fliecrful, was succeeded by a gloomy afternoon,
and a little after sunset, a heavy rain eomcQcnced
falling, attended hy a strong gusty wind. Mr.
Neville, Agnes and Barclay, as they sat together
in a comfortable apartment, before a blazing
wood firo, occasionally paused in their conversa-
tion, when a gust of wind, more violent than or-
dinary, shook the windows, and drove against
them the sleet and rain.
" A wild night," said Barclay.
"Yes," replied Neville; "even with my ro-
bust health, I should not care to be abroad on
such a night as this."
Agnes rose and went to a window, but every-
thing without was wrapt in impenetrable dark-
ness. A reflection of the warm, comfortable
scene within, cast upon the murky air, was sill
that was discerniljle. Suddenly, the sound of
horses' feet, as they smote the hard, flinty path
of the avenue leading to the house, mingled with
the noise of the tempest, came to her ear. She
drew the curtain still farther aside, which shaded
the window, that the light might shine more
fully upon the path, and then resumed her place
by the fireside. She had hardly done so, when
the sharp strokes of the brazen knocker rung
through the hall a summons so imperative that
Mr. Neville hastened to see who had arrived, at
the same time that a servant opened the outer
door. A young man was admitted, muffled in a
eloak, from which the rain was running in
streams ; while a plumed hat, such as was worn
by cavaliers of that period, concealed his fea-
tures. The hat presented anything but a jaunty
appearance, the dripping plume being deprived
of its wavy grace, while the brim, which, in more
genial weather, would have been held in place
by the diamond button which sparkled on one
side of the crown, had been slouched to ward off
the rain from its wearer.
No doubt but at a more conspicuous season he
would have worn both hat and cloak with much
grace, but at this moment his appearance bor-
dered on the ludicrous, as seen by Agnes, through
the parlor door.
" I would attempt to excuse a visit so uncere-
monious," said he, " did not the peltings of the
storm form an apology so ranch better than any
which can be expressed in words."
" No apology of any kind is necessary from
the traveller who does Philip Neville the honor
to call on him, let the weather be foul or fair,"
said the host.
Had not the stranger been engaged in taking
off his cloak, the start which he gave at the
name of Neville might have excited notice; as it
was, it passed unobserved either by Mr. Neville
or his servant, who stood ready to receive the
dripping garment.
Whatever might have caused his momentary
diEcoraposure, his self-possession was as quickly
regained, and he did not fail to reply lo this
courteous remark in terms equally polite and
civil, and concluded by saying that he had re-
cently arrived from England, and that his name
was Percy Gordon.
" It was well," said Mr. Neville, " that you
discovered my house, which I should hardly
thought jou would have done, so far from the
road, and through so many sheltering trees; for,
had you failed to do so, you must have ridden,
at least, half a dozen miles further before you
came to a shelter."
" 'Twas a light, shed from an uncurtained
window, which guided me. Will Shakspeare
might well say ;
' How far a little candle throws its beams I'
for I, at least, began to imagine that I was fol-
lowing a will o'-thewisp, so long and weary was
the way I had to ride before I was able to de-
cide that it really shone from heneath the roof of
a house which was habitable."
By this time Gordon had entered the parlor,
and Agues was not a little surprised at the me-
tamorphosis he had undergone by the removal
of his hat and cloak. She had never seen a
finer figure, or a countenance handsomer and
more preposses-sing ; and if the glance which he
directed to Agnes could have been riglitly inter-
preted, it might have been set down as an ad-
miring one.
" I think you said that you had recently ar-
rived from England," said Mr. Neville, after
Gordon was seated in comfortable proximity to
the fire.
" 1 did."
" You arc doubtless a passenger in the ship
Ilermoinc, then V
" No, I came in tlio Pomona, wliich arrived
only a few hour.s afterward, though it left port a
week later."
A dead silence ensued. Mr. Neville was
thinking of the letter he had received that morn-
ing, and Gordon, whatever were his thoughts,
did not appear to bo exactly at hia ease. Barc-
lay, who sat a little diitanee from the latter,
witiiout appearing to do so, was attentively ob-
serving him. He was something of a physiog-
nomij^t, and took pleasure in forming conclusions
relative to a person's character, by the general
traits of the countenance. His speculations this
time were favorable to their object. They could
not have well been otherwise; for the open
brow, the deep hazel eyes, tiie finely cut lips with
their classic curve, in which there was a strange
mingling of hauteur and sweetness, formed an
ensemble peculiarly attractive. Something there
was, he felt sure, which caused him mueli em-
barrassment, and, as his thoughts reverted to the
conversation between himself and Mr. Neville in
the morning, the thought struck him that Percy
Gordon might, iij some way, be connected with
tlie Mr. Morton, cousin to Neville, who had laid
claim to the estate. All at once, a kind of
dreamy memory seemed to dawn upon him,
that, previously to his leaving England, which
was about seven or eight years since, he had
seen Percy Gordon at the residence of Mr, Mor-
ton, and that he was a nephew of Mrs. Morton.
The more he looked at the young man, the
brighter and more distinct the memory grew.
Had the will alluded to been found, after the
letter was sent, and had Gordon been delegated
to be the bearerof the inauspicious tidingswhieh
reduced Philip Neville and his step-daughter to
penury 1 Such were the questions which natu-
rally grew out of the thoughts which had already
suggested themselves to his mind. Ho, at the
same time, imagined, by the insight which he
thought he had gained into the young man's
character, that it would be to him a most un-
grateful task.
Neville, at last, as if suddenly reminded of
what was due to his stranger guest, aroused him-
self from the fit of abstraction into which he had
fallen. He made many general inquiries rela-
tive to his native land, all of which were answer-
ed to his satisfaction, when he said somewhat
abruptly :
"I have a cousin in England, by the name of
Morton; it is possible that you have heard of
him."
Mr. Neville waited for an answer. Barclay
looked at Gordon, and thought he changed color,
as after some hesitation, he replied that he had.
This confirmed the suspicion he already enter-
tained ; but, though he watched his friend Ne-
ville, he could not see by his appearance that he
entertained the most remote idea that Gordon
was in any way whatever connected with his
cousin. He was too unaccustomed to dissemble
to prevent its being manifest, had such been the
case.
As the evening wore away, Mr. Neville's spir-
its rose. He became more and more pleased
with Gordon, who, as his host grew more social,
was able to throw off the depressing embarrass-
ment, which had, at first, checked the pleasing
conviviality natural to him.
The sun, after a night of storm, rose in un-
clouded splendor. The rain- drops hung like
jewels on the autumn foliage, and there was a
balminess in the air like the breath of summer.
"Now you are here, you must stay, for, at
least, a number of weeks," said Mr. Neville, who
had been pointing out to his young guest the
improvements he had been recently making on
his plantation.
There was a slight corrugation of Goi*don's
brow, as if the words of his host brought to mind
some painful thought. As be did not immedi-
ately reply, Mr. Neville said :
"Is there anything to prevent you from stay-
ing a while ?''
"Nothing, and yet I — "
Whatever he had intended to say, was cut
short by the sudden appearance of Agnes on
horseback, who, by an abrupt turn of a thickly-
shaded lane, was brought so near them that, had
she not suddenly checked her horse, their safety
might have been endangered.
The clear morning air, Joined to. the exhilarat-
ing exercise of riding, had imparted to her
cheeks a rich bloom, and a sparkling lustre to
her dark eyes, which made her look even more
charming than the previous ovening.
"Abroad no early?" said Gordon, with a
graceful bow.
"This 13 the time for ray daughter to gather
tho roses for her clieeks," eaid Mr. Neville, as he
looked at her with mingled admiration and fond-
ness, as she maintained her scat in the saddle
with apparent ease and perfect grace, notwiih-
.standing the inclination manifested by thcspiiit-
ed animal lo indulge in sundi-y eccentric cara-
coles.
" Come, Gipyey," said she, in a soothing voice,
and patting the proudly arched neck, " this will
never do. You will bring scandal on yourself
by sueh an unseasonable display of your vola-
tile spirits, and worse still on your mibiress, hy
showing that she spoils you by permitting you
to have your own way."
Her voice seemed to have a spell in if, for
Gipsey at once commenced walking by the side
of the gentlemen with a dainty mincing stej),
and so light withal as to scarce leave a trace of
her footsteps on the mossy path,
"If," said Gordon, "I might venture to ac-
cept your father's invitation, and remain here a
few days—'*
" Weeks — weeks— nothing short of weeks !"
broke in Mr. Neville.
" Must it be weeks ? Then there will be the
more reason for me to urge my request. I was
about to express a wish that your daughter
would permit me to accompany her in some of
her morning rides, for though I can never hope to
' ^vitch the world with noble horsemanship,'
I have always, since early boyhood, had a great
fondness for riding."
" I have no great partiality for solitarj' excur-
sions," said Agnes, " either equestrian or pedes-
trian."
" That is what she has not," said Mr, Neville.
"When cousin Frank was here last summer, I
couldn't keep them in the house long enough to
read the newspapers to me, if I was fortunate
enough to receive a package from England."
By this time, they had arrived near the house,
where a servant stood in waiting to take the
horse. Gordon stepped forward and assisted
Agnes to alight, with rather a grave air. The
truth wa5, the spectre of that consin Frank, al-
luded to by Mr. Neville, whom he heartily
wished could be banished to the wilds of Siberia,
was stalking before him.
Agnes went into the house, so did Mr. Neville,
but Gordon, who saw Barclay at a little dis-
tance, went to meet him.
" You are a particular friend of Mr. Neville, I
believe," said Gordon, after he and Barclay had
interchanged a few common place remarks.
" I am, and my friendship v^as never more
worthily bestowed."
"I do not doubt it. What little I have seen
of him since my arrival, tends to give me a very
favorable impression of him. I was prepai'ed to
encounter quite a different person."
"Then I am not mistaken. Your visit here
was intentional."
" It was, though last night, bewildered by the
storm and darkness, I lost my way, and had no
suspicion, till I heard the name of Neville, that
I had arrived at the place I vras in pursuit of. I
found that Mr. Neville did not recollect my
name, thoiigh he must have seen me when I was
a boy at the house of his cousin, Biehard Mor-
ton ; and I had not the courage, after the cordial
reception he gave me, to explain the object of
my visit to this country, and thus at once assume
what he would consider a hostile position to-
wards him. I knew the task I had undertaken
would be a most disagreeable one, under any
circumstances, and I would have gladly evaded
it; but, unhappily, I could not, without compro-
mising the comfort of an only sister, — perhaps
deprive her of the very means of subsistence.
The aversion which I felt on my first arrival, at
disclosing the object of ray voyage across the
Atlantic, has now increased ten-fold, or rather it
has changed to absolute dread. What shall I
do ? M^bat should you advise me to do ?"
" I cannot give advice -nitbout knowing what
you have undertaken to do," said Barclay,
smiling.
" True, but being the particular friend of Mr.
Neville, you must certainly have heard him men-
tion something about a certain will, which, if
found, would deprive him of the princely do-
main where be now lives."
" I have. His cousin wrote to him something
about it a number of years ago— just after the
uncle died; but, as he heard no more from him,
he concluded that he in!cndcd to let the subject
drop."
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
411
"But lie received a letter by the Hermione."
" Yes."
" And you know what it contained V
"1 do, and suspect that your business here is
to let him know that the will is found/'
*' It is. The- vessel by which the last letter on
t^e unpleasant subject was sent, had liarrily got
out of sight when the will came to light in a
most unlooked-for manner."
" You are aware," said Barclay, *' that besides
this estate, Mr. Neville has noihicg, except a
little personal property, and that his step dangh-
K'T is wholly dependent on him for a mainte-
nance."
"I feared that such was the case by some
casual remarks made by Mr. Neville, while we
were just now walking together. Till then, I
had been under the impression that the Virginia
estate constituted but a small part of his pro-
perty."
" And what make > it seem harder," said Bar-
clay, "is, he came t) live on the estate by his
uncle's desire, with the full impression that it
was to be his. Had it not been so, he might, by
some means, have endeavored to acquire some
property. Now, his cousin Morton does not
need this estate — is, in fact, better without it."
" He certainly does not need it, his annual in-
come from property inherited by Mrs. Morton
alone being ample to tnable him and his family
to indulge in all the luxuries of life."
" If he knew all, would he not have the gene-
rosity to give up his claim 1"
"I am afraid not."
" I know he used to have the name of being
grasping and avarit-ious."
" I wish I could say that it was undeserved.
One thing, however, I can say, and that is, I
wish he had selected some other agent to settle
the disagreeable business. I have half a mind
to write to him, and say that I will have nothing
to do about it, let the consequence be what it
will."
''If you refuse, another will be employed in
your stead, who may have less consideration for
the feehngs of Mi'. Neville, and who will conse-
quently manage the affair with much less deli-
cacy."
Gordon remained silent a few moments, and
then said :
" Will it be asking too great afavor to request
you to break the matter to him f To let him
know that the stranger he welcomed with so
much hospitality had come for the express pur-
pose to deprive him of a home."
" Will it not be better for you to speak to him
yourself?"
" Perhaps it would, but I cannot."
A servant now came to tellihem breakfast was
ready, and Barclay, on Gordon's repeating his
request, promised compliance, the first favorable
opportunity. Mr. Neville, when they entered
the breakfast room, told them that he was unex-
pectedly called away, and should be obliged to
be absent a week or more. He told Gordon that
he must not, on any account, leave, during his
absence.
Barclay found no opportunity to speak to him
before his departure, and it must be confessed
that Gordon expeiienccd a sense of relief when
he found that the communication was necessari-
ly delayed, as it gave him a chance of enjoying
the society of Agnes a few days, during which,
he could not help hoping that lie should learn
something relative to the cousin Frank, who, the
past summer, had been ihi companion of her
walks and rides.
In about a week, Mr. Neville returned. It
was late in the evening when he arrived, and the
following morning, Barclay souiiht and obtained
a private interview with him. Knowing him to
he naturally passionate, Barclay was prepared
for the burst of stormy indignation which fol-
lowed the communication.
"Tell him," said Neville, " that I do not ex-
pect him to remain here a moment longer tlian
is absolutely necessary. His horse will be at the
door in five minutes. I shall not see him — I
never desire to see birn again. Whatever com-
munication he finds it necessary to make, let
him do it by writing, or through any person he
may choose to employ. Tell him also, as I shall
use ail possible dispatch in leaving this place,
he "need not be impatient, even though he is to
be my successor."
" I don't think that he has any thought of
being your sucfcssor," Barclay ventured to say.
" Is it not plain as day that he has 1 Kichard
Morton has no idea of coming here. This fel-
low, depend upon it, is to manage the estate for
'him."
" If I read him rightly, he would sooner beg
his bread than take possession of your home.
Be assured that he suffers severely at the bare
thcught of your being obliged to leave a place
which owes half its value to your judicious
mamigement."
"All fudge! Why did he undertake a task
for which he pretends to have fo little liking';"
" He is poor, and has a sister who finds a
shelter beneath Richard Morion's roof. Her
home is respectable, if not pleasant, and to have
refused his uncle's request, would have been the
same as to deprive her of that home. Besides,
he did not realize, before lie saw you, what a
very disagreeable task he had undertaken, it
having been impressed on his miod that you
were a different person from what he found
you."
" He imagined me to be a snarling, peevish,
cross-grained old fellow, I suppose, — in short, a
kind of bear in human shape, from having so
long lived in the woods."
" I cannot say what his opinion of you was — "
" V/halever it was, is a matter of perfect in-
difference to me," interrupted Mr. Neville.
" I know that he now thinks highly of you,"
resumed Barclay, " and he entertains no doubt
that means were taken to prejudice your uncle's
mind against you, which was the true cause of
his making a will in favor of Kichard Morton."
" Well, Barclay, say no more about it. I re-
peat the with that he will leave without delay,
and that I may never see iiim again. In six
weeks, at farthest, he may return and take pos-
session here. He will find no one to dispute his
right."
As soon as Barclay had kft him, Mr. Neville
locked himself into tlie room he called bis libra-
ry, to preclude the possibility of his again meet-
ing Percy Gordon, for somehow lie distrusted
his ability to retain his anger against him, if
only momentarily exposed to the influence of a
countenance so full of manly beauty, and with a
look so disdainful of all that was low and
treacherous.
It was not long — certainly not more than three
minutes, — before he heard a horse dash swiftly
by his window. He knew that Percy Gordon
was its rider, and it required much exertion of
will to master the impulse he felt to rise and
look out, in order to obtain a parting glimpse of
one whom he had already begun to regard with
affection as well as esteem, ere he learned from
Barclay the object of his visit.
Agnes and Gordon had just returned from a
walk when Barclay sought the latter, for the pur-
pose of making known to him the result of his
interview with Mr. Neville.
" I cannot blame him," said Gordon ; " but
the day will come when he v,-ill be convinced
that he has been unjust towards me."
He would gladly have remained long enough
to say a few words to Agnes, of whose cousin
Frank he was no longer jealous, he baring as-
certained that, instead of a gentleman, as he had
supposed, it was a lady who bore that appella-
tion; but the peremptory manner in which Mr.
Neville had urged his departure, had aroused his
pride, which was not entirely unmixed with an-
ger, and made liim resolve to obey to the very
letter. A wave of the band, and the words —
" Farewell, Agnes," as he quickly passed the
spot where she stood, was all that he permitted
himself.
Agnes was not long left in ignorance as to the
cause of his sudden departure. Barclay, in com-
pliance with Gordon's request, told her what had
taken place; and with all the sorrow and regret
it caused her, more on her step fat'ier's account
than her own, her faith in Gordon's worthiness
was not for a moment clouded.
When Gordon left Mr. Neville's, he proceeded
directly to Richmond, where he found letters
from home. One was from his sister, and con-
tained auspicious and mo?t unexpected tidings:
Their maternal uncle, a bachelor, who had more
money than he knew what to do with, had been
to London, sought her out, and was so well
pleased with her that he had secured to her
twenty-five thousand pounds.
" What^e has done for you," she went on to
say, "may be seen in a letter Uncle Thomas
has written you, which will reach you the same
time tl>at mine does."
A third letter was from Mr. IJichard Morton,
requesting him to sell the estate in Virginia at
public auction.
Gordon's determination was at once taken,
and as soon as he could procure writing mate-
rials, he v/rote a letter to Mr. Philip Neville, in
which he enclosed a copy of the instmetions
which he had just received relative to the sale of
the estate. He requested that Mr. Neville would
appoint any day he chose for the sale of the pro-
perty, within three months from the date of his
letter. When Mr. Neville received it, Agnes
and Bai'chiy were both present. He quickly ran,
his eye over the contents, and with a fro^m,
tossing it on a table, exclaimed passionately ;
" I am ready today — this hour — this minute !"
Barclay looked at him inquiringly.
" Kead that letter," said Neville. " It is from
that fellow — that Gordon."
" What is the least possible time," said lie,
after Barclay had read it, " necessary to make
arrangements for the sale?'*
" They might be made in a week," replied
Barclay, "though two would be better. But, as
Gordon will wish to be present, will it not be as
well to say three weeks V*
" It will. I will write and tell him, or, if you
will be so obliging, I should prefer to have you
write."
" Certainly; I will write at once."
The necessary arrangements were commenced
without delay, and prosecuted with so much dili-
gence that all was ready at the appointed day.
Mr. Neville and Agnes found a temporary resi-
dence beneath the roof of some friends. What
they were to do ultimately, the hurry and exer-
tion attendant on their sudden removal left them
no time to reflect.
Wednesday morning, just three weeks from
the time Mr. Neville received Gordon's letter, a
flag was waving at a corner of the mansion, the
largest and most ancient in the Old Dominion.
An auction was an event of rare occurrence, and
people came from a distance of many miles, in
ordar to be present. Some had thoughts of pur-
chasing, but more were mere lookers-on.
There had been time for Percy Gordon to ar-
rive, for Barclay had sent his letter by a special
messenger, but he was not present. A gentle-
man, whom no one seemed to have any knowl-
edge of, was the most active bidder. For a
while, several gentlemen bid against him, but
when the property had been run up to what was
considered its full value, competition ceased.
Those who most wished to possess it, did not
feel able to give more than it was worth. The
stranger, therefore, after a reasonable delay, was
declared to be the purchaser.
Till after the sale of the property, Mr. Neville
had not fully realized that he was cast upon the
world without a home, and almost pcnnilesss.
As he sat alone in the room which had been as-
signed to him in his friend's house, in the gloom
of the evening, he had never, in his whole life,
felt so wretched. His mental energies were, for
the time, utterly prostrate. Agnes, too, felt suf-
ficiently miserable, though she did her utmost to
appear cheerful.
In something over a week from the time the
estate was sold, a package, much too large for a
letter, was received by Mr. Neville. He had no
idea as to what it could be. He was expecting
nothing, and he looked a second time to see if it
was really directed to hira. Philip Neville, Esq ,
written in a bold, clear hand, put the question to
rest ; and without further demur, he broke the
seal and opened it.
The first paper which presented itself proved
to be a deed, by which the estate, recently sold
at auction, was conveyed to him by Percy Gor-
don. At first he was tempted to believe that it
was all a miserable jest, for so bitter were his
feelings towards Gordon, that he was prepared
to think him capable of insulting him in his ad-
versity. On examining it, however, he found
that the document was genuine. In a few lines
which accompanied it, ail was explained. Gor-
don informed him of his altered fortunes, and in
the most delicate manner, begged him to allow
him the privilege of restoring the property, which
he could do, udthout any pecuniary injury to
himself.
"Restore iti" said Neville, addressing Bar-
clay. " How came it his to restore V
" Is there no explanation *?" said Barclay.
" 0 yes — in my hurry it escaped me. He says
he was the purchaser of the estate, the person
who bid it off having been employed by him."
Mr. Neville's anger was not proof against all
this, although he declared that he neither could
nor would consent to the restoration of the
estate.
"By refusing, I thick you will make him very
unhappy," said Barclay.
" But I cannot be beholden to him fcr a
home."
"You need not be beholden — give him an
equivalent."
" Barclay, arc you mocking me V
"No, I am not mocking you — I am in right
good earnest."
"I do not understand you. What have I to
give V
" That which Percy Gordon will value more
than half a dozen such estates."
" Ah, I know what you mean," said Neville,
with a sudden lighting up of his countenance.
" You are thinking of Agnes — he shall have
her."
" That is, if she will consent," said Barclay,
smiling, and looking at Agnes, whose color was
a good deal heightened, he could perceive,
though her face was half averted.
" She shall consent. I have been unjust to
him — abused him, and he has i-endered good for
evil. If be wants Agnes, he shall have her.
Write to him, Barclay, and tell him to come,"
Gordon, who had for more than a week been
subjected to the almost unendurable torture of
suspense — for he half expected that the deed
would be contemptuously returned to him. — •
made no unnecessary delay in accepting Mr.
Neville's invitation, contained in Barclay's letter.
In a few days, everything in and around the old
mansion wore its usual aspect. No one would
have imagitied that the sound of the auctioneer's
hammer had ever re-echoed through its spacious
halls.
A change came soon, however, in Agnes 's
room, where there was an unusual display of
laces, gauzes, ribbons, satins and brocades; and
if any opinion could be formed from the bright
and beaming face which was often seen bending
over them, it may be presumed that Mr. Neville
found no very decided opposition, when he told
his step daughter, that he had promised Percy
Gordon, that she should be his bride.
It was not long before the department over
iiihich the housekeeper presided, gave indications
of an approaching festival, and the ser^'ants be-
gan to whisper among themselves, that there
would soon be a wedding. This would have
been considered far from a joyful event, had
they not known that Percy Gordon, already a
great favorite with them all, had yielded to the
earnest entreaty of Mr. Neville, and promised
that his home, should also be the home of him-
self and Agnes, when she became his wife.
THE REALITA^
Grace Greenwood found nothing of romance
in the celebrated Vale of Avoca. "I looked in
vain," she says, "in the little streams Avonmore
and Avonberg, in their wedding at Castle How-
ard, and in their subsequent twoinoneness, their
slow, sedate, matrimonial on-flow, as the Avoca,
for that ' purest of crystal' which gleams in the
song — the poet's words have a more silvery low-
ing than these waters, and this valley's 'bright-
est of green ' is surpassed by the verdancy of the
romantic tourist who comes hither hoping to he-
hold a picture of entrancing loveliness, which
was 'all in the eye' of the melodist. The cur-
rent of the Avoca is evidently discolored by the
copper mines worked on its banks, most unpoetic
and unlooked for adjuncts to that ' scene of en-
chantment.' Yet, believe me, I felt a deeper
pleasure in seeing the poor countrymen of the
poet earning an honest livelihood by mining in
those beautiful hills — rude avocation for the
* Sweet Vale of Avoca ' — than I could have
known in the perfect realization of his most
exquisite dreams." — Artlni/s Home GozMe,
TRUE GREATXESS.
Were angels, if they look into the ways of
men, to give in their catalogue of worthies, how
different would it be from that which any of our
species would draw up ! We are dazzled with
the splendor of titles, the ostentation of learning,
the noise of victories : they, on the contraiy, see
the philosopher in the cottage, who possesses
his soul iu patience and thankfulness under the
pressure of what little minds call poverty and
distress. The evening's walk of a wise man is
more illustrious in their sight than the march of
a general at the head of a hundred thousand
men. A contemplaiioa of God's work, a gener-
ous concern for the good of mankind, and un-
feigned exercise of humility, only constitute meii
great and glorious. — Exchange.
COMPOSITION OF THE flIOON.
Every object on the surface of the height of
one hundred feet is distinctly seen through Lord
Kosse's telescope. On its surface are craters of
extinct volcanoes, rocks and masses of stone al-
most innumerable. But there are no signs of
habitations such as ours, no vestige of architec-
tural remains to show that the moon is or ever
was inhabited by a race of mortals similar to
ourselves. No water is visible, no sea, no river
— ^all seems desolate. — London Glohtt.
For nought so vile that on the e-arth doth live,
But to the earth some fpccial good doth give.
Sluxlispeare
412
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
A BEAUTIfUI, EEPRESENTATION OF THE CHRISTMAS TKEE.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION
^^P?^^-
FREDERICK GLEASON, Proprietor.
MATURIN M. BALLOTJ, Editor.
CONTENTS OF OUK NKXT NUMKER.
" The TouDg Wife : or Spending and Earning," a story
by Alice B Neal.
" Stories of Gods and Goddesses," No. I. The Golden
Fleece (illustrated), by T. BuLFiNcn.
*' A Gleam of Sunshine : or the Path of a Money Lend-
er," a story by T. i^. Artbub.
" Waifs from Washington," No. I, by Ben: Perley
POORE.
" Rosalthe ; or the Pioneers of Kentucky," being the
first chapters of an interesting tale of western life, by Dr.
J. U llOBINSON.
" A Visit to the Churchyard where Gray composed his
Elegy," verses by Mrs. L. II. Scgourset.
" A Flawed Statue," poem by T. Buchanan Head.
"Old Father Time," lines by Maturin M. Balloc.
" Charity." poem by Augustine J. H. Duqan>'e.
" A New Tear's Carol," by Francis A. Ddrivage.
" InTocation," by Ellen Louise Chandler.
' Hymn to the Hopeful," by Phiebe Carey.
" Voice of One Departed," by Alice Carey.
"Retro.'tpection." lines by Mrs. M. W, Curtis.
" Reciprocity," verses bv J- Hunt. Jr.
" The First Gray Hair," lines by Caroline A. Hatdsn.
" Identity," poem by Nealb Bernard.
ILLVSTBATIONS.
A fine allegorical picture, by Billinps. representing the
New Year. Old Winter is seen bringing forth the young
year, 1853, in his arms, accompanied by the seasons-
Spring, Summer and Autumn— while the Old Tear, 1852,
all hoary and gray, is silently marching away into the
forgotten past.
Types of the Mind — illustrated. This will form a whole
page of the Pictorial, and is the commencement of a series
of elegant and peculiar illustrations, giving the hkenesses,
with a brief note of the handwriting, and the tomb, or
otherwise, of eminent characters. Number one — which
will be in our next number, the first of the volume — illus-
trates the earliest mode of writing by hieroglyphics, the
mode of the Egyptians and Hebrews, Indian autographs,
and, finally, the signatures of Napoleon at the various pe-
riods of his life. This is an entirely new and original
feature of the Pictorial.
Illustrations of the ancient mythological story of the
Golden Fleece ; a very interesting picture, illustrating Mr.
Bulfinch's sketches of the gods and goddesses, commenced
in the new volume.
A most seasonable picture, representing a sleighing
scene in Russia, peculiar and national.
A fine, brilliant picture, representing the late Count
d'Orsay mounted upon a favorite horse.
A very artistic picture, drawn by Devereux, called Old
Mortality, being a copy of the piece of sculpture thus en-
titled, cut by Mr. Thom, in Scotland, and now in Laurel
'Hill Cemetery, near Philadelphia.
We shall present our readers with a large, full page pic-
ture, drawn for us by Mr. Wade, of New Tork, represent-
ing the New Tork American Crystal' Palace. One of the
laigest and finest pictures we have yet given in our illus-
trated paper.
A very extraordinary and ingenious puzzle scene, cover-
ing an entire page, will he given. It was designed aad
drawn for us by Lieut. King, of the United States Reve-
nue Service, and will form a puzzle to occupy these long
■winter evenings. The key to unlock its myutery %Till be
given in the second number of the new volume.
A fine allegorical picture of January mil be presented,
characteristic and appropriate for the season.
A view of the n'estern Military Institute at Drennen
Springs, Kentucky, drawn for us by Mr. Rowse.
" The AaiERiCAN Union." — The Americaa
Union, published by R. B. Fitts & Co., Boston,
has recently commenced a new volume with
new headings and a complete suit of new type
throughout. This paper is elegantly printed,
and exceedingly well " made up," its peculiar
features being the publication of short domestic
stories, and a great variety of contents, making
it especially a choice national family newspaper.
It is ably edited by our esteemed friend, William
E. Graves, Esq., and, under the good business
management of its publishers, cannot fail to
maintain its present wide and constantly increas-
ing popularity. Terms, $2 00 a year, in advance.
BINDING THE PICTORIAL.
We are now prepared to bind the volume of
the Pictorial just completed, in our beautiful
style, gilt edges, gilt back, and illumined covers,
adding a new and very beautiful title-page and
index, all for the low price of one dollar each.
We can supply any and all back numbers that
may be wanted to complete sets, at sir cents each.
Those who wish to preserve the past volume in
perfect style, have now an opportunity to do so,
by applying at our office.
Gleason's Pictorial is the only illustrated paper wor-
thy of the name, in the Unitfd ■'tates. In its artistic de-
partment, the judicious liberality of the publisherisabun-
dantly exhibited ; and the literary portion is not suffered
to flag for want of proper attention — Heading GazelU.
MosiCAL.— Paul Julien, the violinist, has
been offered $20,000 and expenses for two
years* services.
Frail. — Two or three more sham built houses
have tumbled down in New York city.
CLOSE OF THE VOLU3IE.
We had prepared a leading ariicle, relating
to the close of the volume and of the year, but
want of room compels us to omit it. We need
hardly tell our readers that this is Xh^last number
of the third volume, and yet, owing to our doing
our business strictly on the cash principle, it is
very important that this fact should be remem-
bered, since all subscriptions are stopped at the
expiration of the time paid for, and no papers
sent until the subscription is paid and thus re-
newed. We trust that our readers will bear in
mind the importance of at once renewing their
subscriptions, then, and thus secure a prompt re-
ceipt of the paper, without even a week's delay.
This, we think, will be more particularly desira-
ble to them, from the fact that number one of the
new volume will commence some new and novel
features, of great beauty and interest, which we
cannot find space to mention in detail.
Among others is a very curious and elaborate
picture, designed by Lieutenant C. W. King, of
the U. S. revenue service, and is really a great
curiosity. It will cover one entire page of the
Pictorial, and embrace in its design some five
hundred objects, each of which, by turning or
reversing, is made to form parts or the whole of
another subject, thus making it a most curious
and puzzling study. Held in one position the
figures will form perfect elephants, ships, faces,
birds, railroad trains, rebusses, allegorical writ-
ing, curious mechanical designs ; reversed, all
these designs will make very different objects,
and yet quite as perfect and apparent, forming
altogether a miraculous picture. Any person
who shall write us out the key to it shall receive
the Pictorial gratis for one year. In our second
number, however, we shall explain the ingenious
production. It is peculiarly appropriate for the
holidays, and will form a source of great amuse-
ment for the winter evenings.
THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
We present on page 412 a large and verv fine-
ly-executed picture for Merry Christmas, a picture
in which the juvenile portion of our readers will
find unusual interest and pleasure. Already is
the annual Christmas Tree established as one of
the household gods of New England and a large
portion of the States. Its story and significance
is known to our most youthful readers ; and in
the picture which we present, many will recog-
nize a strong likeness to the very same one which
graced the parlor of their own. home this same
joyous Christmas of December, 1852. But par-
ticularly is this ceremony and symbol observed
throughout Germany, a custom consecrated by
ages, and contributing vastly to domestic joy.
THIRD VOIAT3IE BOUND.
We have the third volume of the Pictorial now
bound and for sale, in our usual style; with gilt
edges, gilt back, and illumined sides, with a new
and original title page and index, for S3 each.
It forms a most elegant book for the centre-table,
and comprises an immense fund of entertaining
and instructive matter, with nearly one thousand
fine engravings. The Pictorial is too well known
to require an elaborate reference in this connec-
tion. For sale at all the periodical depots. A
more appropriate present than this volume makes,
as a New Year's gift, could hardly be found, so
intrinsically valuable as well as ornamental.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNION.
On the first of January, we shall commence
Volume VIII of the Flag of our Union, with a
new lieading, numerous elegant improvements,
a new and beautiful suit of type, and new designs
throughout. This long-established and favorite
paper will continue its present popular course,
and the publisher is resolved to live up to the
motto adopted at its commencement — " upward
and onward." The readers of the Pictorial will
do well to remember that we send the Flag and
Pictorial to one address for $4 a year. Now is
the time to subscribe.
" The Mameluke : or, TJie Sign of the Mys-
tic Tie." — This excellent and very popular sto-
ry, by Major Ben: Perley Poore, just com-
pleted in the Pictorial, is now published in
book form, and is for sale at all the periodical
bookstores throughout the country. It is one of
the most interesting stories that we have issued.
Webster. — Nearly $20,000 have been raised
in Boston towards a monument for Webster.
Personal. — Ole Bull, the violinist, is aged
thirty -two years, of fine figure and proportions.
1853.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL
YOL. lY.
NEW TYPE, NEW HEADING AND
SPLENDID IMPROVEMENTS,
IN EVERT DEPARTMENT.
GREAT REDUCTION OF PRICE!
Determined to commence the year 1853 with
100,000 !
circulation, we have resolved to reduce the price
of our paper on the 1st of January, to such
terms as shall place it within the reach of all,
and enable us to increase our list of subscribers
to the above number ; we have therefore deter-
mined to offer the most liberal inducement to
clubs, so as to ensure the necessity for publish-
ing this immense edition.
Fully realizing the spirit of the age, the great
improvement in art, and the constantly increas-
ing intelligence of the people, we shall with this
change of prices also vastly improve our already
splendidly illustrated journal, so as to render it
a most invaluable visitant to every home circle,
both for the beauty of its mechanical execution,
and the intrinsic value of the paper itself, as a
literary record of the useful and beautiful.
Therefore, having thoroughly perfected our
plans, especially in improving our engraving
department, as well as the literary character of
the Pictorial, we shall bring out the paper in
such a style as not only to merit all the enco-
miums of praise so lavishly bestowed upon it,
but also so as to challenge increased respect for
its enhanced excellence and perfection. Some
of the proposed features are entirely novel and
new altogether, and will be duly announced.
In short, the whole paper will be far superior to
anything we have heretofore given to the public.
By reference to our columns, it will be seen
that we employ the best writers in the country,
and shall continue to do so. Among them are
the following ladies and gentlemen, who require
no eulogium from us.
Mrs. Ann S. Stephens,
Mrs. L. H. SlQOURNEt,
Mrs. Alice E. Neal,
Miss PucEDE Caeet,
Mis3 Alice Caret,
Mrs. Caroline Orne,
Miss Akne T. Wilbdr,
Mrs. S. P. DoncHTY,
Mrs. C. A. Hayden,
Mrs R T. Eldredge,
Mrs. E. R. B. Waldo,
etc., etc., etc.
Rev. H. IlASTiNGa Weld,
Henry Wm. Herbert,
T. Buchanan Read,
T. S. Artbur,
A. J. H. Ddganke,
Epes Sargent,
George W. Dewey,
rR.A.NCI3 A. Ddhitaoe,
Park Benjamin,
Dr. J. V. C. Smith,
Ben: Perley Poore,
etc., etc., etc.
These are but a few of the names actually
engaged upon and now contributing to the Picto-
rial, and we respectfully call the attention of our
readers to the fact, that never was such an array
of literary talent engaged upon any newspaper
establishment in this country. But our aim is
upward and onward, and our readers and sub-
scribers must reap the benefit.
In pursuance of the plan we have sketched
above, we offer the Pictorial at the following
greatly
REDUCED PRICES.
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
. . . $3 00
... .5 00
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8 '* " " 16 00
Any names may be added to the last number
at the rate of $2 00 each, per annum.
One copy of the Pictorial and one copy o
the Flag of ouk Union one year, for S4 00.
Now is the time to form clubs for the New Year.
We hope our readers and postmasters through-
out the country will form clubs at these rateS.
The paper will also be for sale at all the peri-
odical depots throughout the country, and by all
the newsmen, for Six Cents per copy.
TO CLuns—
1 subscriber, — one year,
2 subscribers, " "
4 " " "
John G. Saxe, Esq. — We were favored with
a call from this poet wit, a day or two since, and
were rejoiced to find him quite recovered from
liis late serious indisposition. To know Mr.
Saxe, is to love him for his genial spirit and
true manliness.
Clubs. — Let the reader observe our club terms
for the Flag and Pictorial. It will be seen that
they are placed so low as to make the papers at-
tainable by all classes of the community.
Postage. — The postage on our paper, it will
be remembered, since the new law, is only one
half a cent to any part of the United States.
In this city, by Rev. J. I. T. Coolidge, Mr. Henry P-
Henshaw to Miss Jane F. Jameson.
By Rtiv. D. P. Cilley, Mr. Edward A. Emmons to Miss
Almira R. Emmons, both of Georgetown, Me.
By Rev. A. S. Francis, Mr. Thomas S. Qayton to Miss
Charlottti Ann Elallock, both of New York.
Mr, GrifRth Stackhouse to Miss Jessie Buist ; Mr Addi-
son Swallow to Mips Sarah C. Seavey ; Stillman M. Pratt
E^q., to Miss Harriet Bancroft, both of Reading; Mr. Wil-
liam R. Bowen to Miss Hannah Goldthwait.
At South Boston, Mr. Lucius H. Welbridce to Miss
Mary E. Dunn.
At Charlestown, Mr. E. R. Chandler, of Boston, to Miss
E. S. Downing. '
At Roxbury, Mr. Horace Lathrop, of Boston, to Misa
Carohne Field ; Mr. Alfred Ritchie to Miss Catherine Rien
At Dorchester, Mr. John F. Chase, of Boston, to Misa
Sarah E. Douglass.
At Jamaica Pluin, Mr. I. Edwin Morrison, of Boston, to
alxss S. M. Marble.
At Medford, Mr. John H. Haskell to Sliss Sarah E. Cut-
ler, of East Boston ; Mr. George C. Herrey to Miss Azubah
nimoall.
iit**;^?°°J^^f,-.^^^'= ^- Roberts to Miss Harriet Stanley :
Mr. Robert Collins to Miss Abigail T. Curtis ■ Mr Eben-
ezer Beckford to Miss Hannah M. Clarrage : Mr. Michael
Kelley to Miss Esther Josselyn
At Ossipee, N- H., by Itev. William Wood, Mr. William
a. Uiliman to Miss Roxanna Roles.
At Chnton Furnace, Scioto county, Ohio, by Rev S
Parker Cummins, Mr. Wesley Crandall. of Empire Fur-
nace, to Miss Nancy AUce Glidden. '
In this city, Jabez Bullard, Esq., 79; Mrs. Mary Ann
Greene. 33; Mips Elizabeth Stow Beal, 14; Mr. Rodney
Clement, 50; Miss Frances T. Humphrey, 15; George
Augustus Buffington, 5 mos.; Frances Ann Marshall, 4 ;
Albert Edwards Stanwood, 5.
At South Bostrn, Mrs. Mary Harris, 77.
At Roxbury, Mrs. Abigail B. Gardner, 46.
At Dorchester, Mr. Jason Clap, 79.
At West Cambridge, Mr. John Frost, 67.
At Medford, Mrs. Peggy Watts, 7".
At Waltbam, Anna Tilden, 21 mos.
At Newton Lower Falls, Mrs. Eunice Daniell, 82.
At Salem, Mrs, Elizabeth Coombs, 75.
At Meilway, Mrs. Clara Hunt, 69.
At Dedham, Hon. William Ellis, 72.
At BcTerly, Mr. James Masury, 35.
At Cohasset, Mrs. Betsey Stockbridge, 81.
At Hingbam, Mr. Edward Wilder, 71.
At Lowell, Mr, Charles Bent, (2.
At Worcester, Mr. Joseph Griggs, 66.
At Tewksbury, Mr Edward Wood, 82.
At Newbury, Mr. Richard Plumer, SO,
At Haverhill, Mr. Amos B. Chase, 64.
At Berlin, Mrs. Mary A Thurston, 25.
At Pawtucket, Deacon Stephen Fisk 69.
At Ilallowell, Me., Oapt. Obadiah Albee, 86.
At East Jaffrey, N. H., Mrs. Susan M. Johnson 37
At Surrj', N. H , Mrs. Rachel Allen, 91. ' '
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At Ghent, N. \ , Mrs. Eunice Macy 72.
At New Orleans, Mrs. ComeUa L. Taylor 45.
Ik m%mmm mmmiMi
LITERAKY WEEKLY JOURNAL.
GLEASON'S PICTOEIAL
A Hccord of the beautiful and useful in Art.
The object of this paper is to present, in the most elegant
and available form, a weekly literary melange of notable
events of the day. Its colimnis are devoted to original
tales, sketches and poems, by the
BEST AMEEUCAN AUTHORS,
and the cream of the domestic and foreign news ; the whole
■well spiced with wit and humor. Each paper is
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED
with numerous accurate engravings, by eminent artists, ol
notiible objects, current events in all parts of the world,
and of men and manners, altogether making a paper en-
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contain views of every populous city in the known world,
of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemi-
sphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy
and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of
every noted character in the world, both male and female-
Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be
given, with numerous spechuens from the animal liing-
doni, the birds of the air, aud the fi.sh of tho sea. It is
printed on fine satiu-surfaco paper, from a font of -rcvt
and beautiful type, manufactured expressly for It, — pre-
senting in its mechanical execution an elegant specimen
of art. It contains fifteen hundred and sixty-four square
inches, and sixty-four columns of reading matter anil
ilIu.strations — a mammoth weekly paper of sixteen octavo
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The Best Family Paper,
inasmuch as its aim is constantly, in connection with the
fund of amusement it affords, and the rich array of Origi-
nal miscellany it presents, to inculcate the strictest and
highest tone of morality, and to encourage virtue by^hold-
ing up to view all that is good and pure, and avoiding all
that is evil in its tendency. In short, tho object is to
make the paper loved, i-ospccted. and sought after for its
combined excellencies,
TERMS: $2 00 PER VOLTTME.
OR, 54 00 PER ANNUM
IXVARIABLT IN ADVAXCE.
Each six months completes a Tolume, commencing on
the first of January and July ; thus making two volumes
per year, of four hundred and sixteen pages each.
\iy^ One copy of the Flag op our Uxion, and one copy
of the Pictorial Drawing-Room Companion, one year,
for #5 00.
[O^ The PiCTORHL Drawing-Room Companion may be
obtained at any of the periodical depots throughout tlie
country, and of newsmen, at teti cents per single copy
Published every S.worday, by
F. GLEASON, Boston, M.A.SS.
WHOLESALE AGENTC.
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A. \V1NCH, 116 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
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ICT* Subscriptions received at titker of the above place'i
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANKm.
[Written for aiuaHOn'H Pictorial.]
RHYME OF THE AUTU3IN RAIN.
BT ALIOS OARKT.
When tlie wind shall como nRain,
Tlio Inst loaHut wiU bn clolt
rrnm the bougli thiit cliiit'oH the pano —
Only two of UH tiro left.
Two of U8 to fliuila or wwop,
All the otUora aro osleop.
Ah, the winds more softly blow,
I3ut th(! wild raiu falls instoatl ;
And thti liLst uiid leaf niutit go :
All itfl pretty mates are dead.
So T Kit in muainy sad,
Of the mates that I have had.
And the while I make my rhyme,?,
llarking to the dim rain f.iU,
In between my dreamp, aomotimfis,
Thoy come i^miling, one and all.
They of whom wc are beroft —
Only two of us uro left-
Many a time wo lay across
Ueda of eoft<'.st, whitest dowu.
As it made the low roof mos3
lireen upon a ground of brown.
Thoy who close beside me lay
Do not hoar the rain to-day.
« ^a** >
[Written for Gieason's Pictorial.]
THE UNIVERSAL GENIUS.
BT UR. J. H. KOBINSOIT.
Frank Hazard was a universal genius; he
coald " turn his hand to everything." His ge-
nius began to manifest itself at a very early pe-
riod of life. When he was but two years of
age, his little brother, a year his junior, in a sud-
den fit of philosophical inquiry, or mental ab-
straction, thrust one of his hands into his —
Frank's — mouth when the latter closed upon it
like a turtle, wounding it severely; upon which
occasion his worthy mother remarked that
Frank was an uncommon child.
"When he got old enough to worry the other
children with a whip, the good lady knew he
would be a famous wagoner, in nowise inferior,
perhaps, to Daniel Morgan himself. When he
began to sail miniature ships upon the adjacent
frog-pond, his mother was certain he would
take to the sea. When he made himself uncom-
monly busy in cutting and hacking the peach-
trees most cruelly with his hatchet, she prophe-
sied that he was destined for a ship-builder.
When he knelt down, after family worship, and
made mock prayers, his mother said he was no
doubt designed by nature for the ministry ; and
when he played " soldier " with the boys, it was
equally certain that he would distinguish himself
in the military line. The same principle was
adhered to, when he constructed cob-houses, and
indicated the extraordinary bent of his youthful
mind for architecture.
When he made the neighbors unhappy hj
playing upon a tin pan, and keeping a running
accompaniment with his voice, Mrs. Hazard felt
greatly comforted; for to her it was sufficient
assurance that he would one day be a star in the
musical firmament, and equal, if not surpass,
Beethoven and other celebrated composers.
On one occasion when he made charcoal dia-
grams of rather an obscure character on his
mother's newly washed floor, she exclaimed, in a
sudden outburst of enthusiasm, " that the bent
of his genius was plainer than ever."
So it will be seen that Frank's (jenius began to
display itself at a very "tender age;" and his
shrewd feminine progenitor was the first one to
call attention to its unmistakeable signs. His
genius continued to "stick out" in the same
wonderful manner, nntil he was sixteen, when it
was thought best that he should go to the L— — •
Academy, to be " fitted for college." He attend-
ed that institution of learning just one week, in
which time he made a great deal of trouble in
school, and discovered that " study did not ajree
with him." His expansive mind could not bear
to concentrate itself upon one subject; no, its ge-
nius must not be curbed; it must scintillate in
all directions, and be a universal light to the
world in general.
And then his discreet mother remembered that
all truly great men which this or an^"^ other coun-
try had ever produced, had detested study when
they were young, and shrank instinctively from
tlie pedagogue's hard requirements,
Frank was now allowed to iiave liis own way
for a time, and was the acknowledged "genius"
of the family. At length his father concluded
L uit he had better " learn some kind of a trade,"
and ho was duly apprenticed to a cabinet maker.
He worked just a day and two thirds, and a])-
pcai'cd at the supper table of the paternal man-
sion on the evening of the second.
Tiic fact was, liis *' constitution was not strong
enough" for that kind of business, and Mrs.
Hazard asserted " that she knew it wasn't all the
time;" moreover, Frank's genius did not run in
that direction. He was " cnl out for sometliing
better ; perhaps he was destined by an inscrutable
Providence to honor one, or more, of the leai'ucd
professions !"
But Mr. Hazard doubted whether Frank had
learning enough for that; to which his loving
spouse replied that he was such an uncommon
young man, he would succeed in anything he
should give his attention to; and to prove this
idea, Mrs. Hazard cited to him the singular fact
that Frank began to wear stand-np dickeys when
he was but fourteen years of age !
During his seventeenth year, Frank " went a
courting" quite extensively; and it was reported
at one time that he was positively " engaged " to
no less than four very young ladies in the imme-
diate neighborliood. It was also rumored, in
addition to this, that he had addressed many lines
of the most heart-rending poetry to seven or
eight more young misses, who were not yet fairly
emancipated from short clothes.
When Mrs. Hazard heard rumors of this kind,
she usually' remarked " that he was just such an-
other eccentric genius as Robert Burns." Sud-
denly Frank took it into his head to go to sea;
but to this his mother made some objections,
and so he "ran away between two days " and
shipped aboard of a schooner bound to New
York with a load of potatoes. He was absent
from his place at the table at home much longer
than he was ever known to be before, for he was
gone a fortnight. He left the schooner at New
York "without leave or license," took the cars
and came directly home, firm in the conviction
that the sea did not " agree with him," and that
" sea captains lacked refinement and humanity."
Frank Hazard, after considerable reflection,
turned his attention to "civil engineering." In
order to be a civil engineer, he applied himself
to close study for three days and two evenings,
at the expiration of which, he "made up his
mind that it was not a profitable kind of busi-
ness." He next tried landscape painting, and
abandoned it because he " could not bear medi-
ocrity in anything he undertook.'^ If he did
anything in that line, he wanted to go to Italy,
the seat of the fine arts, and equal the old mas-
ters. He also gave a few days' attention to arch-
itecture, and found that it was not "just the
cheese " for a man of his capacity.
He would have launched into astronomy full
tilt, but he observed in a very serious way : " that
if it hadn't been for Newton, that would certainly
have been his forte, for his mind always had a
lofty turn," but said Newton had left but little to
be accomplished in that field of labor — not
enough to saiisfy the soaring ambition of his
intellectual soul.
As for geology, it was of a too low a character
to engage his serious consideration for any con-
siderable length of time ; moreover, if he should
write a work on that subject, he might be both-
ered to get a publisher.
The next step in Frank Hazard's meteoric ca-
reer was law, which he pursued with character-
istic zeal until he made the curious discovery that
a young gentleman so conscientious as himself,
could not consistently practise that profession.
Again, it was not always lucrative, and he had
heard that some lawyers were absolutely obliged
to " chase rabbits for a living."
He left law in disgust. Medicine was next in
the order of progression. He read three chapters
in " Wilson's Anatomy," and solemnly declared
that the English language had been tortured out
of all decency; and that the one who invented
such hard words, ought to have been transported
for life. He walked out of the office of Dr.
Sawbones, weeping over the fall of man from
his primitive state of physical and mental bliss ;
and the total depravity of good sense in works
of anatomy in general. Medicine was too dry a
study for him \
Next came theology; but Frank could not de-
cide which of the many doctrines prevalent in
the world, was just right. He took half a day to
meditate on the subject, and got so sadly per-
plexed, that he was obliged to soak his head in
cold water for several hours to prevent general
wfurmotion of the brain,
lie had now tried about everything, and was
ready to "branch out," to u3e his mother's
words, and apply his "universal genius" in the
best way he could.
When Frank had recovered a little from his
tlicologicul shock, he condescended to try ihc
" apothecary's art;" hut the first prescription ho
was trusted to put up, he siq^plied arsenic for
magnesia, and opium for gum myrrh. The
mistake was discovered just in time to save the
patient's life — by the inlcrvcntion of a stomach
pump.
To a md .so peculiarly organized as Frank's,
this 1'*' Incident was enough to fill his bcnevo-
h*^*' with horror. He took a solemn fare-
w I « the mortar and pestle, and earnestly re-
qtsst ,x his mother never to pound salt when he
was in the house, for it "revived unpleasant
reminiscences," The valedictory lines which
he composed at that crisis in his eventful career,
are not nov/ extant, hut it is believed that they
evinced remarkable genius, even for him.
He succeeded no better in the grocery business,
for he frequently sent table salt for powdered
sugar, cream of tartar for soda, pepper for all-
spice, and yellow snuff for cinnamon, which
made it rather bad for his employer ; consequent-
ly he was discharg'ed without a recommendation.
Our genius now "set up for himself" in the
dry goods ti'ade, and broke down at the end of
three months, in debt to everybody who had
trusted him. This failure he attributed to his
unwavering honesty, as he " couldn't bear to
take advantage of people." He now had an at-
tack of the '* California fever," and his father
fitted him out to go to that region of wealth.
After he was in readiness, he gave up the idea
entirely, for it was very evident that a man of
his genius ought to get a good living anywhere ;
besides, the state of society was bad in California;
people had to work hard for their gold, and the
climate was unhealthy.
Thus the universal genius went on from one
thing to another, succeeding in nothing, just be-
cause he was " not appreciated." He got mar-
ried, after many failures; but did not "settle
down," and has not to this day. Sometimes he
works a little on a farm ; sometimes he does
something at different mechanical trades; then
he takes up with some new-fangled notion, and
expects to make a fortune in a few months. He
labored several weeks to invent "perpetual mo-
tion," and came " very near " succeeding several
times, and it's a wonder that he hasn't before
now. His mother is at present the only one
whose faith in his universal genius is unshaken.
How these important fruits of his genius will
afi'ect mankind, it is still impossible to say. We
must not forget to add that Frank has peddled
lightning rods, ear trumpets, green spectacles,
and various kinds of Yankee notions throughout
the section of the country where he resides ; and
he was forced to this because his native talent
was not generally recognized by the masses.
Frank is poor, but is sanguine in his faith that
he shall be rich before he dies. He says that he
is laboring incessantly for humanity with his
head, even when his hands are otherwise em-
ployed; and many folks hint that more real
strain comes on the first-named article than on
the second.
What Frank Hazard will do next is not pre-
cisely known ; but it will certainly be something
calculated to startle the world out of its long
slumber.
[Written for Oleaj^on'i* PI«;torUl.]
THE KLIND HOY'S DUEAM.
OT MtUJ. KARAIJ B. D.iWEH.
[Written for Gleason'e Pictorial.l
FRIENDSHIP.
BT MRS. R. T. ELDBEDGE.
G ive me a friend that 'a kind and true,
With free and open heart ;
Who ■wishes me life's journey through,
To ever ehare a part, —
In every .joy, in every strife
That centres in hie breast ;
Through every varying scene of life,
I'd deem my portion blest!
'T is sweet, in hours of untold grief,
To know one steadfast friL-nd
Stands near to offer us relief,
And friendship's hand extend !
I would not pnrt with friendship's blisfl—
' Tis neither bought nor sold ;
True friends in such a world as thifl,
1 value more than gold !
If you put on a proud carriage, people will
want to know what there is in you to be proud
of. And it is ten to one wlictber they value
your accomplishments at the same rate as you.
And the higher you aspire, they will be the more
dchiious to mortify you.
" 0, dearc-it mother, I dre.-imed lost night,
An angel came all whining bright \
And, mother, he Btooped to kisa my brow;
Methlnks I feel hit) warm breath now.
" Ife Htood bcHlde my little bed.
And thus to me the angyj nuiil :
* Blind boy of eartli, ijo more nhult thou
In blindness here and sorrow bow.
" ' Kind Heaven liath heard thy patient sigh,
And bade me to thy prewnce lly,
And t«ll thee how tliose sightless eyes
Shall open soon in yonder skies.
' Dwelling there, sweet visione bright
Shall dawn on thy enraptured sight j
And brighter far than gcenee below.
Shall heaven's beauties round thee glow.
" * Then, weep no moic, blind boy of earth,
Thou veiled in darkness from thy birth :
Thou ere long with joy ehiilt find
A biiyaful Jiome where none are blind.'
" .\nd, mother, I seemed to hear hi.g wing
Poaring above all earthly things ;
And, 0, 1 longed with him to fly
To that bright world beyond the sky."
Weeks passed, and on that little bed.
The blind boy laid hie dying head;
And feebly liapiug; " 0, how bright!"
His spirit winged its upward flight.
And now his mother, with anxious eye,
Delights to gaze on the evening sliy,
i'or angel voices, tlien, will seem
To echo still her blind boy's dream.
cloak than courtesy for frnud ?
' Earl i\f Stfrling.
AMERICAN BEAUTY.
There are two points in which it is seldom
equalled, never excelled — the classic chastenesa
and delicacy of the features, and the smallness
and exquisite symmetry of the extremities. In
the latter respect, particularly, the American
ladies are singularly fortunate, I have seldom
seen one, delicately brought up, who had not a
fine hand. The feet are also generally very
small and ex(juisitely moulded, particularly
those of a Maryland girl; who, well aware of
their attractiveness, has a thousand little co-
quettish ways of her own of temptingly exhib-
iting them. That in which the American wo-
men arc most deficient is in roundness of figure.
But it is a mistake to suppose that well-rounded
forms are not to be found in America. Whilst
this is the characteristic of English beauty, it is
not so prominent afeatm-e in America. In New
England, in the mountainous districts of Penn-
sylvania and Maryland, and in the central val-
ley of Virginia, the female form is, generally
speaking, as well rounded and developed as it i's
here; whilst a New England complexion is, in
nine cases out of ten, a match for an English
one. This, however, cannot be said of the
American women as a class. They are, in a
majority of cases, over delicate and languid ; a
defect chiefly superinduced by their want of ex-
ercise. An E'.iglish girl will go through as
much exercise in a forenoon, without dreaming
of fatigue, as an American will in a day, and be
overcome by the exertion. It is also true that
American is more evanescent than English
beauty, particularly in the south, where it seems
to fade ere it has well bloomed. But it is much
more lasting in the north and north-east; are-
mark which will apply to the whole region north
of the Potomac, and east of the lakes ; and I
have known instances of Pliiladelphia beauty as
lovely and enduring as any that our own hardy
climate can produce. — j\Iacl-ai/'s Western World,
FLOWERS,
How the universal heart of man blesses flow-
ers ! They are wreathed round the cradle, the
marriage altar, and the tomb. The Persian in
the far east delights in their perfume, and writes .
his love in nosegays, while the Indian child of
the far west claps his hands with glee as he gath-
ers the abundant blossoms, — the illuminated
scriptures of the prairies. The cupid of the an-
cient Hindoos tipped his arrows with flowers,
and orange flowers are a bridal crown with us, a
nation of yesterday. Flowers garlanded ilie
Grecian altar, and hung in votive wreaths before
the Christian shrine. All these are appropriate
uses. Flowers should deck the brow of the
youthful bride, for they ai-e in themselves a lovely
type of marriage. They should twine round the
tomb, for their perpetually renewed beauty is a
symbol of the resurrection. They should festoon
the altar, for their fragrance and their beauty
ascend in perpetual worship before the Most
High.— il/rs. C/uid.
FoRBV.ARANCE. — It is uot SO preat matter to
live lovingly with good-natured, humble and
meek persons; hut he that can do so with the
immoral, the wilful and ignorant, the peevish
and perverse, he only hath true charity; always
remembering that solid, true peace of God, con-
sists rather in being complied with ; in sufl'ering
and forbearing, rather than in contention and
victory.
■ — 1 * »^ >
Books are leaves thrown, to sink or swim,
into the stream of time, by a being who soon
plunges in af.cr iheni.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.
■11 ;
Gleason's PrcTOKiAL Drawing-Boom Com-
panion—puhMshcd in Boston, Mnss., — will com-
mence, on ihe 1st of January, lSr)3, a new vol-
ume, being Volume IV of this elegant illumined
journal. It will appear with new type, new
heading, and splendidly improved in every de-
partment, besides which, ihe price is to be great!.}/
reduced. The publisher is resolved to commence
the new year with a circulation of one hundred
thousand, and, therefore, offers the most liberal
inducements to clubs. Kealizing the spirit of
the age, the great improvement in art, and the
constantly increa&ing intelligence of the people,
the publisher, with this change of prices, will
vastly improve his already splendidly illustrated
journal. Especially will a great improvement
be manifested in the engraving department, as
well as the literary character of the paper, so
that the Pictorial shall appear in a style, not only
to merit all the encomiums of praise so lavishly-
bestowed upon it, but also so as to challenge in-
creased respect for its enhanced excellence and
perfection. In short, the whole paper will be
far superior to anything yet offered to the pub-
lic by the publisher. By referring to the follow-
ing list, which forms a part only of the regular
contributors to the Pictorial, its high literary
character will at once be understood.
Mbs. Ans S. Stephens,
Mfb. L. H. Sigofrxet,
Mrs. Alice B, Neal,
Miss Phoibe Caret,
Miss Alice Carev,
Mks. Carolise Orne,
Mies AxxE T. IVilbcr,
5I11S. S. P. Doughty,
Mita. C. A. Havden,
Mrs. R. T. Elrredge,
Mrs. E. U. a. ^Valdo,
etc., etc., et(
Kev. H. IIastisgs AVeld,
UeXRY Wm IfERBERT,
C. EuceANAN Read,
T. S. Arthur,
1. J. H DUGANNE,
Epf,s Sabgent,
(jEORGE TV. DfiWET,
fea^•cis a. doritage,
Pare Besjamin,
Dr. J. V, C. SMint.
Sex: Perley Poore,
etc., etc., etc.
The following are the terms of the paper : —
One subscriber, one year, S3 00 ; t',vo subscribers,
S5 00 ; four subscribers, 89 00 ; eight subscribers,
:?16 00. The paper will be for sale at all the pe-
riodical depots throughout the country,. after the
1st of January, at six cents per copy.
[E7" Any paper inserting the above, editorially,
with tliii paragraph, shall receive the Pictorial
one year.
PURE AIR IN SCHOOLS.
At the Kducational Convention in Newark,
N. J., lately, Dr. Griscom, of New Torb, urged
upon school committeemen and teachers the im-
portance of pure air for scholars. He remarked
that it would astonish some, when he said that
respiration was the last act of digestion. This
act oxydizes and decarbonizes the blood. The
want of fresh and pure air is among the prime
causes of mortality. It is a fact that half the
race die before the age of twenty-one. The
echool-room and dormitory arc changed into
abodes of death. Fresh air is deliberately shut
out, and foul air — the fell minister of death-
kept in. "When will due attention be paid to the
subject of ventilation in constructing school-
rooms, public halls and dwelling-houses'?
Mr. Gleason ajs'd the American Artists. - The artisfs
of the TTDited States have had n service of plate, valutd
at SIOOO, prepared in New York, for preseo tuition to Mr.
Gleason, proprietor of " The Pictorial Drawing- Ron)/t
Com pan i I'll ^'''' for his encouragGinent to the advancement
of science. It is a merited tribute. The prcjector of the
"Pictorial" is now in the foremost ranka among tbo.'-e
whose wealth is not hoarded with a miserly grasp, but dis-
tributed weekly among the hundreds of artisans and me-
chanics to whom his enterprifc affords employment. In
bis msgnilicentestabliehment on Tremout Street, Boston,
employment is afforded to a larpe number of industrious
citizens. Every room, from the Cf liar to the attic, is occupi-
ed with an appropriate portion of the business, adapted to
its location and size, and the whole establishment presents
a s^ene of animation and industry. The basement is oc-
cupied with a range of steam prc>ses, which are kept con-
Ftjiutly at work priuting the Pictorial Drawiag-Koovi
Companion and the Fifg of our Union. The 100ms on a
level with the street are cltgantly fitted up for sales-rooms,
ware-roome, counting-room, etc.; above, are the composing
looms, engravers' department?, liodery, etc , occupjing
and filling the entire building formerly known as the
Montgomery S-Ouae-^ LiUrnacionat Journal.
" Mesioir of James A Cobb, by his Mother." —
We have received from the authoress this little
dewdrop of beauty. It is a most charming and
delightful Christmas or New Tear's gift for the
young, depicting as it does the brief career of a
little saint who died at the age of nnie years.
No Sunday school library should be without the
memoir, and every home circle would find a hal-
lowing influence from its presence and perusal.
A TALI. Refinery. — A sugar-house, nine sto-
ries high, and to cost $-300,000, is about to be
erected in Laight Street, New York.
Musical— The Mendelssohn Quintette Club
have again commenced their attractive concerts
in this and the adjoining ciiies.
Personal. — G. P. II. Jaraos, the novelist, has
been recognized by the President as British Con-
sul for the State of Virginia, to reside at Norfolk.
lHajjsiire ®atl)ering0.
Prosperity is no just scale; adversity is the
only balance to weigh friends.
Three thousand five hundred volumes are is-
sued daily by the American Tract Socieiy.
The town of Rutland, Vermont, is said to
have turned out a million dollars worth of mar-
ble the past year.
A cargo of S:600 bushels of superior white corn,
from North Carolina, was sold at Norfolk, Va.,
recently, at 70 Cv-nts per bushel.
Lamp wick soaked for a quarter of ar nr in
vintgar, then dried before being put into ip,
will prevent the lamp from smoking.
Lamartine excuses his failure in politics I ti.
fact that his verses were so well known that Jth-
ing but re-verses could increase his reputation.
A convention of editors is now in session at
Columbus, S. C. The object of the convention
is the adoption of a fixed system of prices.
It is said that a vigorous attempt will be made
during the present session of Congress, to pass
the bill authorizing the payment of the "French
Claims."
The Charleston Mercury, one of the most
prominent organs of the late secession party,
comes out strongly against the annexation of
Cuba.
The Secretary of State, Mr. Everett, is nego-
tiating with the British minister in reference to
the fishing grounds and in connection with reci-
procity of trade.
A project is on foot to build a railroad from
Savannah to Pensacola, which it is estimated
will shorten the travel between New York and
New Orleans to four days.
The British North American, published at
Halifax, comes out in favor of a union of the
British North American Provinces and the island
of Jamaica in one confedcra-^y.
Counterfeit threes on the Tradesman's Bank,
Chelsea, have made their appearance. The gen-
uine have a view of Chelsea, which is not on the
counterfeits.
An exchange states that a medicine, " war-
ranted to bring the hair out," took the hair all.
out of a gentleman's head at Galena, leaving him
entirely bald.
Mr. Webster's executors have given notice
that they will publish a complete edition of his
works as soon as they can be properly prepared
for the press.
Mr. Stone, the sculptor, is now engaged upon
a fine marble bust of President Fillmore, got up
by the senators, and to l)e placed in the Presi-
dential Mansion or " White House."
Vicenza Vichioni was tried at New Orleans
on the ISth ult., for the murder of Manuel Cu-
tino, in January last, and a verdict returned by
the jury of " guilty, without capital punishment."
The work upon the" important light-house at
Sand Key will be resumed in January, and the
appropriation being large, and the materials on
the spot, it is confidently expected that the lan-
tern will be lighted on the 1st of May.
The Methodist Episcopal Committee of New
York have appropriated $1^10,000 for missions,
of which the Foreign Missions receive S5n,000,
Domestic Missions $144,000, and New Missions
$15,000.
Twenty millions of dollars are now annually
paid by the United States to Cuba for her pro-
ductions, and of this only about six millions are
paid for in the produce of this country and goods;
the balance in specie and bills on London.
Mr. Flett, clerk at Mr. Magee's shippers' press,
in Mobile, committed suicide recently, by throw-
ing himself into the Alabama river. Depression
of spirits, caused by ill health, is said to have
been the cause.
William Howard has been convicted in La
Grange, Ky., of a murder in the lirst degree, for
stabbing Henry Dirohans. A motion for a new
trial was overruled. Howard was sentenced to
be hung on the 14th of January cext.
The oldest living printer in the United States
is a man named Carly, in Yorkville, S. C He
worked with Ben. Russell on the Boston Centi-
ncl, over half a century ago, and he yet sets type
by candle light, and is 97 years of age. Alas !
poor old typo.
The Lowell News states that the city govern-
ment of Lowell have invited the Rev. J. H.
Towne (formerly of this city) to deliver a eulogy
on the life and character of the Hon, Daniel
Webster, in April next. Mr. Towne has accept-
ed the invitation.
The following are some of the bills paid by the
city government of New York for the mo'-k fun-
eral of Henry Clay. For decor^itiug the city
hall, S2547; scaifs for marshals, S940 for under-
takers, S14SI, and for the hoard of six senators,
three days, at the Irving House, 82,161 75!
The Zanesville (Ohio) Gazette notes the dis-
covery on the line of the Central Ohio Railroad,
in ihe eastern portion of that city, of the remains
of a mastodon, or fossil elephant, apparently
double the size of the Asiatic elephant. The
molar teeth were sound and unbroken, and the
two largest weighed twenty pounds each.
A tragic affair occurred near Vicksburg, be-
tween Judge James and Thomas Carneal, the
former being fatally stabbed by a bowie knife.
The son of Judge James then f-hot Carneal dead.
Sheriff Ycager, and Roberts, a magistrate, were
also wounded whilst endeavoring to stop the
affair. Young James surrendered himself to the
authorities.
JTorcign iSIisrfillans.
Mr. Rives, the American Minister to France,
delivered an appropriate eulogy on the death of
Daniel Webster.
Louis Napoleon says that the reason that he
runs in debt with everybody, is because he wish-
es to gain credit with all classci;.
So many young men have emigrated to Aus-
tralia from England, that there cannot be found
sufficient to fill the vacancies in the police.
Very high floods had recently occurred in the
Tiiames, Wye and other rivers, causing much
damage to property in the neighborhood.
The Constitutionnel newspaper has been late-
ly sold to the proprietor of the Payp, and the two
papers are to be amalgamated. The Constitu-
tionnel had about 42,000 subscribers,
A book called "British Pomology" has ap-
peared, contiining a description of 942 kinds of
apples. All these are traceable to the common
crab.
The circulation of the entire daily press of
Paris, excepting the Moniteur, the official organ
of the government, has fallen ofi' some 65,000
sheets daily under the reign of the new Napoleon.
Tennyson's " Ode on the Death of the Duke
of Wellington," written in his capacity of " Poet
Laureate," is severely criticised in the English
papers. It is undoubtedly the most stupid thing
he ever wrote.
A line of steamers is projected between Bor-
deaux, in France, and the Isthmus of Panama.
A conference has been insiituted at Havre, by
the minister of finance, to examine and discuss
all the questions relating to transatlantic com-
munication.
Some Christian Jews are making great exer-
tions to promote an interest in agriculture in the
vicinity of Jerusalem, and ihey solicit donations
of seeds, plants and implements from the United
States. Several valuable gifts have already been
sent them.
A dreadful accident occun-ed at the Arenes
Kationales, in Pari^. A rope on which two rope
dancers v/ere performing, at a height of thirty
yards, suddenly broke, and they were both pre-
cipitated to the ground ; one was killed on the
spot, and the other was so dreadfully injured
that he died an hour afcer.
Lord Byron's grandson, who was lately ad-
vertised in the London Times as having run
away from his parents, has been recovered by
the London police, in Liverpool, whither he had
gone to ship as a cabin boy, to avoid being put
on board of a man-in-war. He is the son of
Ada, apostrophized by the poet as "sole daugh-
ter of my bouse and heart."
lobfs SBuiiget.
jSania of ©olir.
.... When one wi/l not, two cannot quarrel.
.... Woman should rule, but not govern.
.... That is a base and narrow mind to which
suspicion is natural.
.... Poeti-y is venerable on a tombstone, but
shabby on the man's back.
A good conscience breeds great resolu-
tion, and an innocent soul is impregnable.
.... Money in your purse will credit you —
wisdom in your head adorn you — but both in
your necessity will serve you.
.... When onr desires are fulfilled to the very
letter, we always find some mistake which ren-
ders them anything but what we expected.
.... Love and respect are rarely found in
lost fortune, and adversity seldom meets with
the returns of friendship.
.... Prodigals may be compared to fig trees
growing on a precipice, whose fruit men taste
not, but crows and vultures devour.
.... Have a care in making any man your
friend twice, except the rupture was by your own
mistake, and you have done penance for it.
.... Affection, like spring Holers, breaks
through the most frozen ground at last ; and the
heart which seeks but another heart to make it
happy will never seek in vain.
.... Le^rn to admire rightly, said Thackeray;
for it is a great pleasure of life, to admire what
great men admire — great things; the narrow
spirits admire basely, and worship mean things.
Of all learning, the most difficult depart-
ment is to unlearn ; drawing a mistake or preju-
dice out of the head is as painful as drawing a
tooth, and the patient never thanks the operator.
.... Years are the sum of hours. Vain is it,
at wide intervals to say : " I'll save this year," if
at each narrow interval you do not say; "I'll
save this hour."
In mixed company, be readier to hear
than to ppeak, and put people upon talking of
what is in their own way; for then yon will
both oblige them, and be most likely to improve
by their conversation.
.... If you have been once in company with
an idle person, it is enough. You need never
go again. You have heard all he knows. And
he has had no opportunity of learning anything
new ; for idle people make no improvements.
.... To try whether your conversation is
likely to ba acceptable to people of sense, imag-
ine what you say written down or printed, aud
consider how it would rend; whether it would
appear natural, improving or entertaining; or
fefl'ected, unmeaning, or mischievous.
The man who attempted to smoke a pipe of
brandy is troubled with dizziness of the brain.
Why are washenvomen the silliest of people 1
Because they put out their tubs to catch sojl
water when it rains hard.
One charge in a lawyer's bill against a client,
was for " waking up in the night, and thinking
of your business — $5."
Some one advertises for the recovery of a lost
wallet belonging to a gentleman made of calf-
skin !
An editor received a letter iu which weather
was spelled "wethur." He said that it was the
worst spell of weather he had ever seen.
"Sam, why am lawyers like fishes?" "I
doesn't meddle wid dat subject at all." " Why,
kase dey am fond ob debate!"
"Ma, whereabouts shall I find the sfafe of mat-
rimony ?" " You will find that to be one of the
Uniled States/' was the answer.
An Austrian upon being asked for a definition
of paradise, said 1 " I believe it to be a kingdom
where you can travel backwards and forwards
without a passport."
" A tailor is the ninth part of a man," said a
would-be-wit in tlie presence of a knight of the
shears. " But," responded the latter, " a fool is
no part at all."
The Spaniards do not pay hyberbolical com-
pliments; but one of their admired writers,
speaking of a lady's black eyes, says " they were
in mourning for the murders they had com-
mitted."
A country fellow came to the city to see his
intended wife, and for a long time could tliinkof
nothing to say. At la-t a great snow falling, he
took occasion to tell her that his father'^ sheep
would all be undone. " Well," said she. taking
him by the hand, " I'll keep one of them."
A certain preacher having remarked, in his
sermon, that everything made by the Almighty
was peifect, a deformed man in a pew beneath,
said: "What do }ou think of me ;" "Think
of you," replied the minister, "why, that you
are the most perfict hunchback ihat I ever beheld."
VOLUMES 1st & 2d.
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL.
We have volumes Ist and 2d of the Pictorial Drawinb
Room CoMpANTcn elegantly bound in cloth, -vrith gilt edges
and hack, and illuinined sides, forming a superb and moefc
attractive parlor ornament in the shape of a book of
Betweer rojj and Five Hundred Pag-es,
AND CONTAINING KEARLY
ONE THOUSAND ENGRAVINGS
of Men, Manners, and current Events all over the world ;
of Scenery in all parts of the Globe ; of famous Cities, and
beautiful Villages ; of Pageants at home and abroad; of
fine Maritime Views ; and, in short, of an indnite variety
of interesting and instructive subjects ; with an
ELLtJMINED TITLE-PAGE AND INDEX
of great beauty and artistic excallence, and forming a very
brilhant frontispiece to the volume.
Besides the many illustratioHs, it embraces in its pages
a vast amount of original Tales, Sketche?, Poems and Nov-
elettes, from the best of American authors, with a cuiTent
News Record of the times ; altogether forming an exceed-;
ingly novel and elegant volume, for future reference and
present enjoyment, both la regard to reading matter and
illufitratiocs.
For sale at the PubUcation Office, by our Wholesale
Agents, and at all the Periodical Depots throughout the
Tlnion, for Three Dollars per volume.
THE FLAG OF OUR UNIOIs^
AX ELEGANT, MOKAL AND REFINED
Miscellaneous Family Journal,
Devoted to polite literature, wit and humor, prose and
poetic gems, and original prize tales, written expressly for
this paper, and at a very great cost. Iu politics, and on
all sectarian questions, it is strictly neutral. Nothinp; of
an immoral nature will ever be admitted into its columns }
therefore making it emphatically,
A PAPEK FOK THE MULIOI^,
AND A TVELCOME VISITOR TO THE HOME CIRCLE.
It is generally acknowledged that the Flag is now the
leading weekly paper in the United State.':, and its literary
contents are allowed, hy the best judges, to be unsurpassed.
It contains the foreign and domestic news of the day,
BO condensed as to enable us to give the greatest possible
amount of intelligence. No advertisements are admitted
to the paper, thus offering the entire sheet, which is of
THE MAMMOTH SIZE,
for the instruction and amusement of the general reader.
An unrivalled corps of contributors are regularly engaged,
and every department is under the most finished and per-
fect system that experience can suggest, or money produce.
Lacking neither the means nor the will, we can lay before
our hundreds of thousands of readers an
the present circulation of which far exceeds that of any
other weekly paper in the Union.
TEEMS TO SUESCEIBEES.
1 subscriber, one year, $2 00
3 subscribers, " S 00
4 '■ " 6 00
8 " " 11 00
16 » "■ 20 00
One copy of the Flag of odr U^■IO^', and one copy of the
Pictorial DaAWiXG-Rooai Oompasiox, one year, for S5 00.
(C/^ Invariably in advance.
Subscribers or postmasters are requested to act as agents,
and form clubs, on the above terms.
[HT" Alt orders shindd he addressed, post paid, to llie
PCBLISHER OP THE FLAQ OP OCR UKION.
*^* T/ie Flag can be obtained at any nf the nrtcspnper
depots in the Unitrd Slates, and of newspaper carriers, at
i'OUR CE-NTS ptr single copy.
F. GLEASON,
PCBLISUER iND PnOPRlETOJl, BOSTON, MASS.
416
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM CX)MPANION.
«fcj
GENIN S NEW AND NOVEL BRIDGE, EXTENDING ACROSS BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
GEININ'S BRIDGE.
The above engraving represents the design of
a free bridge for foot passengers, which Mr.
GeniQ, of New York, the celebrated hatter, pro-
poses to erect, at his own expense, across Broad-
way. He has applied to the Common Council
for permission to build the structure, and the
application is now before a committee of that
body. The arch, which is in the ornate Moris-
co style, is intended to span the street from St.
Paul's Church to Mr. Genin's hat store, 214
Broadway, which directly faces that edifice. At
this point, the streams of travel from five streets
may be said to meet, and it is decidedly the
most dangerous crossing in the city. The arch,
if constructed, will be several feet higher than
any car or omnibus, and (as may be supposed
from the engraving) an ornament to Broadway.
Of its convenience, we need not speak. At pre-
sent, it is in the highest degree liazardous for la-
dies or children to cross at the point referred to.
By the " Genin Bridge," they might pass over
pleasantly and safely. The cost of the structure
would be about $5000. The ladies, as a matter
of course, are unanimously in favor of it, and
we think that if the Common Council consult
the wishes of these constituents, they will per-
mit Mr. Genin to carry out the project. As we
have said, he is willing to incur the whole ex-
pense of erecting the bridge, and of keeping it in
repair. The enterprise of the merchant princes
of New York is proverbial, but this of Mr. Ge-
nin's bids fair to supersede all others. For our
own part, we most heartily wish the city authori-
ties of New York would give Mr. Genin permis-
sion to carry out his novel and excellent idea ; if
in no other way, it might be granted to him to
erect this bridge conditionally ; that is, if after its
construction it should be found to be objection-
able, the city should be at liberty to order its re-
moval at once. This would obviate, we think,
all objections as to its construction, and require
no further delay in granting the necessary per-
mission for Mr. Genin to act upon, and to carry
out a very reasonable plan, as it regards safety
and ornament, for this portion of Broadway.
LIFE IN THE HAREM.
Mr. St. John gives an insight into an Egyp-
tian harem : '* We probably form a false con-
ception of the life of the harem, misled by writers
who suppose its inhabitants to be swayed by a
system of ideas different from that which really
prevails among them. My own opinion is, that
they are quite as happy as the rest of their sex ;
otherwise nature would not have given perpetui-
ty to the institution, which seems quite as suit-
able to the East as very different institutions to
the North. At any rate, the women themselves
are the best judges, and they appear, upon the
whole, no less contented than their sisters of
Frankestan. Besides, their seclusion is not so
absolute as we imagine. I have seen respect-
able men and their wives going out to spend the
evening pleasantly in the fields, between Cairo
and Shoubra, forming little groups, but not so
far removed as to prevent conversation. They
did not, of course, belong to the upper classes,
which, everywhere, sacrifice the heart and its
best affections to pride and vanity ; but were,
probably, shop-keepers, or, what are called in
the East, little merchants, extremely comfortablt^,
and, as we express it, well to do. At any rate,
if mirth be a criterion, they were as happy as
Greeks, for they talked, laughed, related stories
and anecdotes, smoked, drank sherbet, and ate
sweetmeats and all sorts of delicacies, with much
greatei- gusto than the same number of princes
and princesses in the sombre North. Again,
when I visited the Mosque of Flowers, I saw, at
least, four or five hundred women, many of them
of the Iiighest rank, distributed through the va-
rious aisles, in pleasant little groups, seated on
carpets, some sewing, others suckling their chil-
dren, others talking and laughing, or eating and
drinking, while their slaves stood round in
attendance. As I was dressed like a Turk,
they bestowed no more attention on me than
on any other person. So I gazed on them at
my leisure, while I affected to be regarding
the architecture, the colors of the painted win-
dows, and the materials of the pavement." —
Home Journal.
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l.P.L.B