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The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, November 17, 1859, Image 1

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terms op subscription.
The National Era is published every Than
d*y, on the following terms:
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For the National Era
Wool i?t know what Lore ta ! Tesdi thy pnlas to thrill.
At the light (Turing of a rummer leaf.
Wake at the faintest dawn, and call it grief
Tnatthou bast slumbered, when thy heart might fill,
Ik dreams from purer founts than those of sleep,
Watch curiously the day begin to creep,
And find new charms in Nature; bid Ibine eye*
Bathe at 11* pearly gates ; and when the ski* a
At night grow radiant, teach thy soul t> mount
On purest wings of prayerjo Love < pure fount ?
Tne Giver of all Goo i 1 Then shall thy heait
Be sw?pt and garnished, and wnatsVr thou art.
Tiii n a>t made ready for that heavenly Guest,
it ail God's holy gifts the holiest and the best'
Would*! know how woman lovrsT Then teach thy will
i u <ink great weiia of wonder in thy heart,
And build strong walls of patience, and impart
Trie martyr-power to sudrr and he still!
Know tbou'lt be wronged in laving ; learn to feei
That all thy rubies buy but little gold
To casket them . and when the WV*t it rolled
Into great splendor, think those fiery gates,
Thst open to the sunset, are but sold
To that fierce threshold where thy spirit watts
To plunge in passion's furnace; ah! too late,
Thou shall eome forth well ir.ed?to walk in white,
With angel* fall of pity, or with blight
Deep in dry heart'* dull core, learn wointn't common fate '
Wouldsl love as man loves? Clumber when the tuoin
Lies pearl'd am! sml.er'd in the tremulous east,
And when the matin dews their thrill have ceased
Lpon the shadow'd leaves, w hen faint and worn
The moon smiles at thy lattice, raise thine eyes,
And dream thou loves!?some one! thou hast borne
A grief (thou sayest) daily, and thy sighs
Should find an answer?somewhere ' then be wise,
And choose a golden censer, thai thy prise
May grandly set thine incense; thou art called
World-happy?and ihou art! For thou hast pall'd
And hears'd the soul God gave thee ; and, enthralled
Nature no more shall nurse thee, nor restore
To thy enfeebled heart one generous impulse more!
November 1, 1859.
My Dear : Did it. ever happen to you to take
" a realising sense" that your trnnks, and
drawers, and boxes, needed a "cl'arin' out ? " If
it never did?if you are one of those inexplicable
individuals whose affairs alwavs move in a
right line, whose collars never get rumpled,
whose pencils never are missing, whose back
hair never tumbles down when you are riding,
who never get the figure upside down in making
a dress, and never overturn the inkstand
on Webster's large dictionary?if your worldly
possessions are always arranged in rank and
file, with the precision and deftness of a Spartan
phalanx, so that you can summon all your
resources in any emergency ?a state of things
on wkich I look, I must confess, with an admiration
not unmingled with awe?why, then,
you may as well skip this article, and go on to
the poetry and the politics, which, I dare say,
you will find highly entertaining and instructive.
But if your sewing-silk has a habit of getting
tangled in with your paper of pins, if there is a
steady and unexplained decrease of population
in your needU-ljook, if your gaiter-boots persist
in walking off separately on their own ac
count, if your scissors are continually proving
an alibi, and your thimble is the centre of perpetual
occnltation ; in short, if you have insensibly
and inevitably contracted the habit of
looking upon your personal property as a band
of conspirators, sworn to rob you of your time
onrt tomrtnr tton rnn will rw>rhnn9 recollect
modest reflection that they are not half so good
as the letters you sent in return?wonder how
you could have been so interested in the correspondence,
and where the writer is now?tie
>p the parcel again, and toss it one side humming,
" Where are the bird* in last yeat'i nest?"
?0 on with your assorting, but " hand passibu.i
tytiis, yawn dismally, look at the clock, think
of the sunshine out doors, compare your nondescript
keap to the widow's cruise of oil; and
at last, choking down a few conscientious compunctions,
open your largest trunk, swoop up
all that remains, by the armful, cram them in,
put down the cover as far as it will go, jump on
it when it stops, lock it, hide the key, so that
your mother wont find it to constitute herself a
committee of one on unfinished business?and
?o! your room is in order, and you walk off as
happy as a bird.
Now for the application. Several hundred
years ago, (counting time
~ By hran-:brob?, by fetrling*, net by ftnger* on a dial,")
waxing very cosmopolitan in my affections, I
thought I would write a few letters to the readers
of the Era?a class which, as you very well
know, comprises the large majority of the re5
spec-tability, learning, wit, and wisdom of the
I country. 1 expected to do a great many wonI
dertul things, and think of a great many more ;
I and you know how pleasant it is to talk such
V things over with your friends afterwards ; so I
V thought, that when your wonderful things were
""" '"'"r") J ? I r
that on one tine morning you arose, bright
and early, with the fell purpose in your heart
of making a descent on this ne9t of rebellion,
crushing out the insurrection, and forcing the
insurgents each into his proper place in the
body politic.
You began by emptying all your boxes and
bureaus in a heap in the middle of the floor.
Then you folded yourself up "Turk fashion''
beside them, and, as a belt-ribbon hung over
the apex of the somewhat irregular pyramid,
vuu decided to hunt out all the belt-ribbons
first, and put them in one place. So you roll
the belt-ribbon round your fingers, and lay that
aside, and begin your explorations; but that
belt-ribbon was a false flag; for, although you
know yon have one to match every dress, yeti
as you dive deeper, you find no more belt-rib*
tons, but a glut of gloves. Yon conclude to
change your basis of operations. You will take
out whatever comes to hand, and arrange separate
piles. The plan works well. You very
soon have a 9emi-circle of laces, and bows, and
stockings, and bracelets, as far as your arms
can reach. It is very interesting work, too.
Here is a little wrought rufflo that disappeared
*ix months ago, and baffled your researches. It
was caught between the drawer and the bureau.
It has grown very yellow, and must be laid out
on the grass : then it will be as good as new.
Ht-re is that Paris slipper that you raved about
S". when von were going to visit the B's, and
couldn't find it to pack ; forgetting that you
had wrapped it up and tucked it into that box
to send to your friend, that she might take a
pattern of the embroidery. VV hat is this stuffed
into the thumb of an old woollen mitten ? Well
dune ! Those elegant buttons that you hunted
for, high and low, when your blue silk was
building?price six dollars a dozen?bought
them yourself?just brought them home?sure
you brought them home?charged everybody
with having fotind and concealed them on purI
t>03e to annov vou?non est invention?went
out in a rage and bought "another set for a shilling,
>artly to punish yourself for your carelessness,
and parlly because your treasury was depleted
down to a crossed nine pence and a brass
watch-key. How well now you remember
thrusting them in there, while you left the
room for a moment, lest the baby might swallow
them. You mentally resolve to run the
rwk of his swallowing them next time, as thev
art- of no more use to you now than if he hacf,
being quite out of fashion. Feeling slightly
cramped, you conclude to place the several
i a reels in their appropriate drawers, then you
go down and take a lunch, then return to your
work. A great many things have been taken
out, yet the heap looks as large as ever. Here's
a handle of old letters?you break the string?
look through half a dozen of them?make the .
Vol. XIII.
done, and you were sitting quiet in the twilight,
you would perhaps like to have me bring
in my little budget, and, twining the trellis of fact
with the purple clusters of fancy, make some
lUlIlg UK'C MiU^CUiCr Ul it, ovation ug luviai
lessons, of course, a la water-cart, along the
dusty way, and being especially careful never,
on any temptation, to mix metaphors ! \
But, dear me 1 I didn't know anything about
it. It is very eharming to write letters in your
own chimney-corner. Yon can invent all sorts
of remarkable scenes, attractive, repulsive, ex- *
perimental; perils by field and flood ; thrilling '
adventures and hair breadth escapes ; but if 1
you actually are bumping round the world, you |
find the hardest thing in the world is to " make
a note of it." When you were in school, you
doabtless wrote pages every day in your jour- '
nal. hammering out all your fancies and feel- I
ings to the utmost limits of malleability ; but .
when you left' school, and did the things you
had only breamed of, your diary experienced a
sudden collapse. This, I take it, is generally
the case. You must live your life, one way or
another?on battle-field or quarter-deck; i? ^
cabinet, laboratory, pulpit, \r nursery. Boys ;
expend theirs on Virgil an^ bandy; men, on |
farm and ledger, with a small surplus that goes .
to liquidate the claims of Srnith and Jones to :
the strtFrages of an enligf ,^ned community. ;
Girls read Lalla Rookb, crochet lamp-mats, i
write interminable letters to immortal female >
friendship, and so manage to drain off their
spare life, till, in the course of human events,
it runs naturally to housekeeping and babies,
and takes the whole force to keep the mill
a going.
But sometimes the farm,' and nursery, and
workshop, do not use up all the fluid ; then, ac- !
cording as it makes for itself a channel, or is
pent up in too narrow bounds, you have Shake- |
speare chaining the ages to his triumphal car,
or Chatterton flinging down life at sixteen
years, as a burden too heavy to be borne. You
have Raleigh leaving the apple-orchards of
beautiful Devon, for an unknown Land of j
n- t i
1" j t% new UiWUU W(*uucinig nuiiu-muc lut
a golden fleece; Spenser walking'with Genii in
encbanted woods, and weaving a mightier spell
than they; Burns, up heaving not only the soil
with his plow, but the land with his song;
Browning, voicing on her many stringed lyre
the "Cry of the Children" who pass through
the fire to Moloch ; Bronte chained to her desolate
rock, and eating her own heart out with a
sharper than Promethean torture ; Stowe, throwing
open to the shuddering day a sepulchre full
of dead men's bones, and all uncleatiness ; Sappho,
harping her own requiem on the Leueadian
cliff; Socrates, calmly quenching with
hemlock the life that would no otherwise be
stayed ; Dante, gazing in rapt beatific vision on
the glorified face of Beatrice ; Galileo, spinning
the world around in spite of the pious dunces
who sat on it in solemn conclave to hold it
down ; Kane, walking in silence with the Spirit
of Storms ; Paul, transported with a holy ardor,
denouncing woe to himself if he reign, in the
fiery words that leap to his lips ; David, th^.
stripling, ruddy, and of a beautiful countenance,
changed by the spear-touch of an heroic purpose
from the dreaming shepherd-boy to the
champiou of Israel; and William of Orange,
and Alfred the Great, and Milton, and Tasso,
and Napoleon, and Ilomor, and Mozart, and?
me! (Pin ever so flimsy a rag on the tail of a
kite, and they will all rise together. I might
have strung uay people up in chronological order,
and not made such a hash of ancients and
J I.-it I aoonrrinnt t/i t hn
uiouerus, Ulll * IUUI% ouvu. w
Golden Rule : " first come, first serve.*')
Corollary 1. Everybody has just so much life
to live, and if it is dammed up in one direction
it will overflow in another.
Corollary 2. Greatness, heroism, glory7?pring
from what is left over and above necessity.
That is, some people have just soul enough for
salt. You cannot conceive It further diminution
of their mental endowments unattended by
immediate physical decomposition. Of course
they have nothing to spare for fame. But the
highest must have body as well as the lowest
intellect. The body is the strong cord which
keeps the "animula vagula blandula from flying
off in a tangent. They cannot live in a
state of pure mind, auy more than the others
can live in a state of pure matter. Consequently,
there is a plane on which they both meet, and
that plane is bread aud butter. But the one
never soars above it, while the other never remains
upon-it. Herein consists the difference
between the two. It is from the latter, roaming
about in the empyrean, that we get our
grandeur anil sublimity, our pathos and poetry.
Corollary 3. Feminine authorship, instead of
being deprecated, ought to be encouraged as
the great safety-valve of society ; and those who
ridicule and oppose it, show themselves far behind
the age in endeavoring to put down an
army of women with no better weapon than
that wherewith Samson slew a thousand Philistines,
fifty centuries ago. (That last turn is so
good, that I don't believe it could have originated
with me. Somebody must have said it
before me, though I don't recollect ever to have
seen or heard it. If anybody did, I have only
to say, with old Donatus : uPereaut isti qui ante
nostra dixerunt! ") If I were not the very soul
of honor, I should let that quotation go as if I
happened to meet it in my intercourse with that
individual, but the fact is, I got it second hand
from Saxe. As for Donatus, I never heard of
the fellow in my life, before.
Now. as Cicero says, " ubniam gentium
sumusWhere in the world are we? (That
remarkable quotation is iny own.) anil where
did I leave my heap of muslins and ribbons?
No matter, however; what 1 wanted to say is,
that my plan about the letters did not work well.
I began bravely, but could not(> like Yankee
Doodle, " keep it up." Yet, as 1 always like to
have things finished in One way or another,
I have concluded to swoop up my experiences
and observations, and cram them as succinctly
as possible into this letter, or, as this letter has
already reached a tolerable (1 hope not an intolerable]
length, perhaps I would better " close
the concern,'' and defer my " more last words"
till next week. Gait, Hamilton.
Moral of the Habpf.r's Ferry Affair.?
At the bar of disinterested and dispassionate
reason, the affair at Harper's Ferry is enough,
of itseli, to prove that Slavery is a wrong, and
a source of weakness and danger; that it can
never be the part of the Christian or the patriot
to defend or prolong its existence; that, on the .
contrary, all who love their country, and who
would make their country lovely, and contribute
what they can to its union, strength, and prosperity,
in order that the people may dwell together
in peace and quietness and mutual
helpfulness, through all our borders; that all
such ought earnestly to labor together to remove,
as soon as practicable, this disturbing
and weakening and dividing and distracting
and debasing and every way wrong and dangerous
Against what system not esseqtially and
enormously wrong, could such a man as Brown
is described to be, even by Governor Wise,
ever be induced to plot and labor in that way?
The primal guilt of the tragedy is palpably in
the system.
And again, in what healthful and right state
of society could such a movement, by twenty
men, in a village of 2,000 inhabitants, have
spread consternation and sent a thrill of alarm
through large cities and populous States, causing
unquiet sleep in every household, and
arousing State and National authorities to
arms? Such phenomena are possible only in
cases of weakness and exposure resulting from
great public wrong.
For our Northern readers it is not necessary,
but for Southern eyes we take the precaution
of saying that, whatever may be our judgment
and feeling in regard to Slavery, and whatever
sympathy may be felt for the deluded sufferer,
none here justify Browns undertaking; and
the very small number that, at the end of three
years from its conaeption, he was able to enlist,
shows that no such movement can find
favor with any considerable number anywhere.?
i Vermont Chronicie.
., i
? fi
Tfc i T r -n *rr n r\ r m rv r\ a -vi
i? A 1 JLi ? I , E D 1 T U It AJ>
For the National F.ra
Rupert Beale, a youth, and scarce ;n his
twenty-first year yet, was much more distinguished
looking than the artist. There was an
sir of haul ton about him, in his dress and adiress,
in his movements and in his features. He
was tall and not fully developed in form, his
broad high brow, his large black eyes shaded
by deep arching brows, his thin, prominent
nose, and fine, nervous lip, which, curling continually,
often seemed to writhe with the intensity
of his inward emotions?these combined to
give to his features and expression a peculiarly
earnest character. There was the einpressemcnt
of the hero about him, so to speak. Give him
_ i _i~_i_ .1 i~ V7--1 ?. : ?
a uuuuiui biiu tiuaft u (U f cius^ur^ put a rapit'i
at his hip, and a poignard in his vest, and,
presto! you have one of Don John of Austria's
knights, a doer of valiant deeds at Lepanto,
one ready equally to battle for Santa Cruz, or
climb balconies of Seville by moonlight. As it
was, Merivale thought his dress too rich, not
glaring, but soft and recherche and luxurious.
"I'll bet he sports a velvet dressing-gown,
Turkish slippers, and a jewelled nargil'heh,"
thought the artist. Still, these things suited
him better than they would almost any one
else, and his youth was sufficient to pardon the
blending in his appearance between the Don
Juan of Seville?not Mozart's, but Julia's?and
the?Byron that Ouicciola loved?the domesti
eated and untrammelled Byron of Ravenna.
Mr. Beale, however, scarcely won more than
a passing glance of appreciation from the
artist. The sister offered him a far more
pleasing study, both as an artist and as a man
of the world. So far as she was like her
brother, she resembled him as the doe does
her lord and master ; but the points of resem
blance were fewer by far than the points of
difference, and these latter most attracted Merivale.
Carlo's enthusiastic statement of her
charms did not seem highly colored to our
frion<l mKn 1 onnAol oaf ir> onnnrrK 111 mAaf mut.
'VV?V?.?O..V " """'
ters, had never been able to laugh himself out
of his intense proclivities for beauty-worship
Miss Beale was a girl yet, not having achieved
her eighteenth summer, but her figure was
rounded and developed, had outgrown the angularity
of girlhood, and, never a hearth flower
nor a mignonette, now showed itself a rich
curved rose bud, ripening into bloom. Still,
the moon was not at its full, and her face proved
beautifully that she was lingering yet in the
laud of faery,
"Standing wufa reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet.
Womanhood and childhood fleet."
Merivale saw her more than once, and what I
write respecting her must be regarded rather
as a rcxumg of his impressions, than as the
vague image of loveliness that came into his
vision while the dark-eyed Maddalena was gone
after fresh olives. She had a semi-blonde complexion?
(a contralto, so to speak, in comparison
with the pure soprano of England her
hair was of a rich glossy chestnut hue, and her
hazel eyes were so full and rich, so various and
many lighted, that at one time they hinted of
"green Erin," at another almost breathed the
warmth and phosphorescent glow of Italy. She
had great freedom from girlish timidity, and a
confident rianle sort ot naivete which gave
Merivale great delight, especially as it did not
resemble Die Vernonisin, nor in any respect
infringe upon the finer promptings of woman's
most beautiful modesty. It was simply an unaffected
naturalness, which some women are
able to attain by means of consummate art. but
which whs in her a thousand fold more charming,
because so palpably innate. Thus Merivale
saw in her what she was, the promise of a
true and genuine woman?a woman not trammelled
nor laced up in the stricter conventionalities,
" wild with sport, half-woman, halfchild,"
exuberant of healthy and prismatic life,
a joyous spirit of wit and fun, " part banter,
part affection "?a loud toned murmuring brook,
dancing onward, merrily glancing in the sunshine,
yet echoing, in its many voices, deep
and eloquent utterances of the grand and solemn
Ocean of Life, into which it was about to
empty. That arching brow, with its smooth
white plain above, indicates thought enough,
when there is occasion, said Merivale to himself.
And he was right. The girl before him
was a rich and rare Promise, capable of as high
destinies as any woman, and of properest wielding
of them, though, to the casual observer, she
might reveal herself as only
"A ro?e-bud s?t with little wilfeil thorn*."
"IIow admirably you use that language,"
said Merivale, as Miss Beale, before they sat
down to breakfast, gave some directions to her
maid in French ; " and both of you are so an
fait in the sweet lingva Tosrana that I would
have been decidedly puzzled as to your nationality,
had I simply heard you."
"Oh, I can scarcely call myself an American,"
replied the young lady ; " it is seven years
since I came abroad, and Rupert has been
away from home in England and Germany almost
nine years. So we are qaite European."
" Ah?your family reside on the continent,
then ? "
" No," responded Rupert; "I believe that our
parents, who are now waiting our arrival in
Genoa, are in Europe for the first time."
"Think of it, Mr. Merivale ! I have not seen
my mother since I wore high neck aprons, and
played with my dolls ! Seven years locked up
in a jyensinn at Bruxelles, with nothing but an
occasional visit from Rupert to enliven my
tedium ! French girls are so heartless, one
can't make friends with them; the Dutch Franleins
are good, but terribly stupid; and the sisters,
dear Heavens 1 I think the ward of the
enntajts in Purgatory must be in charge of the
Beguines. True, we had?at a distance?our
snuffy music master, who used to exhaust all
his energies iu informing rae that my 'tinkers
vas all t'umbs;' and there was the priest, but I
did uot go to confession. N'importe ? c'est
Jini, now, that dismal time. I have graduated
with all the accomplishments, and am resolved
to use my liberty."
" By Jove, Helen, I think you have done so,
already. Would you believe it, Mr. Merivale,
she insisted on playing rmigc-et noir at Baden,
and not only lost the contents of her own purse,
but ten Napoleons which she borrowed of me!
I thought Heidelberg burschen led the race
when out of bounds, but I yield the^ crown to
boarding-school girls. At Brieg, she had the
consummate impudence to make a corpulent
old Burgomaster stand still while she sketched
his portrait, and assuaged the old fellow's rage
by offering him some bon-bons, and telling him
he was the fac simile of Zwinglius the reformer."
''Indeed, though, I could not help it," said
Miss Beale, with a most musical laugh, " he put
me so much in mind of quaint old Nurnberg,
that the temptation to sketch him was almost
irresistible. And it is scarcely fair to lei fly the
banner of my foibles, Rupert, and keep your
own close folded. Mr. Merivale, ask brother
the cost of that bouquet he bought of the flowergirl
at Baveno ? Aba, Mr. Critic I For my part,
1 think we have done remarkably well. Yon
cannot expect a boy and girl, just from school,
and making the grande tour saru chaperon, to
sit twirling their thumbs and primming their
features Quaker-fashion, can you, Mr. Merivale
? "
"The morning rose is always dewy, Miss
She glanced comically at the artist. " Do
you excel in that kind of compliment, Mr. Merivale
? If you do, I shall give you plenty of
chances to exercise your talent, for I am passionately
fend of a well-turned tour <f esprit. I
shall write that down iu my diary, apropoa of
Como and its other beauties."
i rz ....... n .. I"
l nanus lor tnat outer. nave your a unci pa i
tions been realized in Como T " added he, put- ]
ting the question generally. <
" Ma foi! save the drive here yesterday, and
a short boat excursion on the lake last evening, i
with ten eager minutes at the villa Sowariva, i
we have seen nothing at all of the place," said
Rupert. The fact is, we loitered so long in the i
early part of our journey, that we have over- l
stayed our limits, and our parents, who ought
to have reached Genoa last week, will be anxious
about us. So we musChurry on, stopping
in Milan long enough to dispose of our carriage, i
see the Cathedral, and have one look at Lion- 1
ardo's Last Supper. Then to Genoa by railroad."
" I would not advise you to raise any false
hopes in regard to Lionardo's Cenacolo. Morghen
does its present condition more than jus- i
tiee, and really it impresses me painfully to behold
the sad ruin of so much grandeur."
w Do jou not like ruins ? " asked Miss Beale. j
" Some ruins, Miss Beale ; but this is not the
ruin that softens and crumbles gently away be- >
fore the refining touch of time, like a halfbreathed
sigh ; it is the ruin of disease, neglect, '
fikh. There is no hint of the ivy-grown tower,
but, like the broken windows and dismantled
exterior of an occupied house, simply a re j
minder of the depravity of those concerned. 1
They have cut a door through the wall, the top i
of which pierces the picture ; the French bul- I
let-marks are still on it, and it is mouldy, soiled,
and faded, though it has been frequently retouched.
However, you will find much to in- '
nroot vr?? iri M ilo n tk n TLinmCi ia A krilliaot
mass, though not purely beautiful, and then
there is the famous Ambrosian Library, the
Brera Gallery with its Raphael, and its Guercino,
the great Im. Seala, and inany other points
of iqf^rest. What most delights me in Milan
is the study of the people, how their souls
writhe under the heel of Austrian despotism,
and how, nevertheless, through that despotism,
they derive one of the greatest boons possible
to an Italian?glorious music. If you should
remain in Milan a day or two, it would give me
pleasure to act as your cicerone. I am en route
i'or Florence just now, having filled my portfolio,
and am beginning to long for palette and
44 If you could make it convenient," said Rupert,
" we will be delighted to have you join us
and give us the beneGt of your experience."
44 Oh yes! " struck in the young lady, 41 do,
Mr. Merivale! I so much want to know Italy,
and there is nobody to teach me."
14 But your mode of travelling is too rapid for
me. I saunter on afoot, and you would lose
your patience before the first day was over."
44 There is a vacant scat in our vettura, now
that rogue Friedrich is gone, and indeed we
would like exceedingly to have you join us, for
we are entirely untravelled, and "
44 I have dismissed your courier," said
Merivale, laughing. 44 It is a tempting offer,
certainly, a fair 4 auch in Arcadien to a poor
devil of an artist like me," added he, glancing
at Miss Beale ; 44 if I had a couple more pockets
in this utilized coat of mine, I should certainly
be able to look the courier to perfection. Bicn!
We will strike no bargain, but go on so long as
we like each other. I will play Herr Pedagocus.
and vou "
" Will be most willing pHpils, worshipful Artmaster,"
said Miss Beale. " It is entirely agreed
upon, and now, Meister, begin your instructions.
I tli uie what to think of Como, i. e., what I must
write about it in my diary."
" Como, Signorina, is one of the spots which
were set apart to the use and benefit of Diana,
when this world was building, so that in ca^e
she suffered any sudden access of vanity, she
might find a mirror meet for ber divine use.
Faugh ! 'tis a concettO lhat would not even pass
in Delia Crusca. You have seen an American
lake ? "
*' 1," said Rupert, " used to swim in Cayuga
Lake in New York, and I remember, when a
small boy, paying a brief visit to Lake George,
the Hohcon. I do not remember much of it,
but, for the sake of Ticonderoga and Jane McCrea,
blood and battle which tire4 my youthful
fancy?I can also bring back to mind fairy T
island, and?the trout."
' Biavo ! I'll wager you could remember the
trout without the aid of sealping-knife, bloody
legend, or Peale's pictures. The stomach is
never a mirror ; it is a daguerrotvpe plate."
" At the Convent, they used to talk much of
good Samuel Champlaiu, and tell us many very
pleasant legends of Lac du Sacrement," said
Miss Beule, " so 1 love Lake George from association."
" Then," quoth, Merivale, flourishing his finger
like a iuaestro's batonlet lloricon rank as
Pocahontas, Nature's child, rippling her 'native
wood-notes wild,' and Como will be a fairer
still?the Lucrezia Borgia."
" A paste diamond, then ? " inquired Rupert.
" Never less. Fair and lovely, loving and
passionate ; there is no artifice about her, only
deadly art to the too lingering wooer. Genuine
enough is the beauty, and you know
' Heauiy is us own excuse for being '
The miasma so deathly emanated not from it,
uui dwelt witnin tne lovers bosom.
" What you say is so strange to me," remarked
Helen, with a troubled look. " I have always
thought of that woman as having on a terrible
black mask, and gliding about in a gondola,
with a vial of poison in her hand, and curses
on her lips."
" You will forget that, when you look at the
one single strand ofher pale yellow hair which
they show you in Milan in the library. Luorezia
could take off the mask for those that loved
her, and it was an iron mask, worn over her
heart, for those whom she hated. Shall we
blame her if she wore the mask at all times?
I have a fancy comes over me at times that
she did so from pure compassion ? the story of
Helen had frightened her with such lying fables
of the fatal gift of beauty, and, in her own house,
she must have in some sort found saddest verifications
of it. Hut?Como also wears a mask
at times, when her bridegroom up there, those
glittering Btrmese Alps, grows jealous of her,
and sends down bis chill mists to veil her from
all rude eyes."
" It is our turn to say bravo now, Mr. Merivale,"
remarked Rupert, his eyes glowing, as
he walked towards the window. " Ah, look at
her now, sir; your words have given her a uew
indviduality in my eyes; save ior her beaming
cimDu Qii/1 rlnpnrnna UKP iipulloa
at the foot of the mountains as Io crouched at
the feel of the grand old suffering Titan?singing,
too, but of love, and joy, and June?soft
kisses aud too happy sighs ! "
" Nay, Rupert, forbear," said his sister, merrily
laughing ; " having given the thing life,
you will next turn Pygamalion, eonvert it into
an Eliza, and adore it. So I think we had best
hurry out of the fatal sphere of this olive-crowned
Lucrezia. What say you, Mr. Merivale?
There may be poison in the amber wine she
proffers us. Come, order the carriage, you,
and Mr. Merivale will make his own preparations,
while I set my baudboxes in order. Va!''
En Route.
"Beneath is spread, like a j?recn sea.
The w lTrlets plain 01 Lom*'ar<ly,
Bounded by the vaporous i ir,
Islanded by cities fair."
Prut! what a douche-bath was that mention
of bandboxes to the imagination of Merivale,
which, already afloat in mid-ether, was
pluming its wings for still higher poetic flights! ,
He fairly groaned as he went into his room and
began to strap the portmanteau which Maddalena
had so nicely packed for him ; and, while
he substituted a more decorous sombrero for his \
impudent kepi, plaid trqwsers for his corduroy ,
leggins, boots for gaiters, and a tolerably decent
shooting-jacket for his faithful velveteen, besides
adding a pair of gloves to his equipments,
he burst expletively forth into the following:
" A generous ass I am ! Bandboxes! Pestel i
I shall have to trot through Milan Cathedral, 1
carrying a fan and guide-book, with a school- <
girl giggling at my elbow! Fidediddle dolde- <
riddle! She's pretty, though, and sensible? <
cum grano?if she is somewhat childish; and, i
then, ! can pot on the paterfamilias?or?the <
elder brother. Diantre 1 what would the fel- '
lows who use about Caff? Greco say, seeing my 1
inveterate baccal&ureanism saddle with all these
petticoats! Wouldn't they trot me out! I wonder
who they are! Evidently well bred, and
persons of property. And that youngster could
not be a more stately gentleman, an he boasted
an hundred quarterings. Sang de won crayon !
I'll have her portrait, whether she is willing or
not, and make it a fine one, and, cospetto 1 if
they bore me, I'll sell.it, and have mv revenge.
Beale?Beale?wonder where they're from ?
There are Beales ir Massachusetts ?but these
young people's noses do not sport the proper
angle-?pig against the wind?for Bostonians.
They resemble Marvlanders, and Miss Helen
might be a belle even in Baltimore. Well, I'm
in for it, as Tom Owens said, when life lost his
passport in Tyrol, and I do not think it will
prove such a bad bargain, after all. They are
a frank, open pair, and as inexperienced as can
be, so I can save them from being cheated.
Per Baccho! I'd like to possess Titan's secret,
111 at tn nomt lUo a! /?k/\?l. '7
,-w. * """" v-"*TCR.
When, half an hour afterward?, the vetturino
announced his vehicle and everything was
ready for departure, Merivale was much pleased
to find that the bandboxes were not very numerous;
that Adfele, the lady's maid, was a
neat girl of Arras : that the coach was large
and roomv ; and that Miss Helen, like a genuine
travelfer, had discarded frippery in herdress; j
and, instead of a novel, carried a genuine red
bound Murray in her lap. The hotel family
were all gathered to witness the start, no other
travellers being then at Cadenabbia. Meritrale
placed Miss Boale in the coach, arranged
her parcels, secured his portfolio inside at her
request, and turned to see Maddalena stand
ing behind him, looking like a veritable Nausicaa.
u Via vol o ! " he said to himself, " we shall
have a scene here, and via petite is going to
make me out a terrible Lothario in the young
lady's eyes. Then to the girl, holding out his
hand, and kissing her on the forehead, ik Von
zella cara mia, tell not Giulio that I have kissed
his bride, and (slipping a coin into her hand,) j
there's for a favor when the wedding-day comes 1
round, Addio, belle oechi"
Maddalena stood like Ariadne as he sprang
into the coach ; then, turning towards Miss
Beale, with a quick Hash of the eye, she said,
" The signorina is fortunate?she'"
u Allans! postillion rite!" shouted Merivale,
not knowing what would next transpire.
" Addio Carlo?Toni?Como?tutti?addio
Maddalena?I'll come again next year?au
' Addio sign ore e signorina."
But Maddalena uttered no farewell as the
norltr /^rAtra nff
' What a pretty Italian face Maddalena has,''
said Helen, " and sneh a lovely profusion of
hair." She looked slyly at the artist.
"Do you think so?" replied he, curtly.
" Well, it is very lovely, amis double, but hardly
adapted to practical purposes, I fancy."
" No?" inquired the young lady.
" I don't think combs, particularly smalltoothed
ones, are over plentiful in tliis land
' where the bright lemon blows.' "
" Oh," laughed Helen, " is it so? Methinks
even Bayard's chivalry could not stand that."
" Yet Byron loved the Italian women," retorted
" So he did the Greeks?because he could
make pretty poetry upon theui ; and, besides,
aristocrat though he was, Byron could not appreciate
a refined woman. He was afraid of
them ; nay, more, he hated them, because he
felt they would not worship) him. Italy is a
glorious field for poetry, doubtless, and a still
more fertile Sold for the poets, through whom
we have learned to bless it justly, and also to
believe that it is all that Shelley has called it :
??' Thou lost Paradise ol this divine
?\ud tpunou- world ' Thou ti .w ry wilderness '
Tbnu island ol" <-ti-rnity ' Tnou -h i if
Where desolation, clothed wi.h 'ove iness,
-".tr f ; tba thui}.- :1m u v cm ' O truly '
" But the Poets, poor one-sided enthusiasts,
would have us believe the Muse reigns supreme.
I know better. Her empery is divided.
She knows a brother near the throne?a ruthless,
exorbitant, practical, unimaginative tyrant,
whose name is King Flea! I was onee I
so profane as to caricature Italy," added he,
laughingly, taking his portfolio, and extracting
from a small crayon sketch, which he handed
to Miss Beale. " See, you have the olive, the
vine, the orange, the ruined arch?these are j
the Poet's Italy. Flanking it you have the ;
Traveller's Italy ? Polenta, fleas, douanieis,!
and dust, all mingled pHe niile. Schramm, a
quondam pupil of Cornelius, and one of the
best of the German artists in Rome, was so
much taken with it as a piece of 'subjective
identity through the medium of objective symbolism,'
as he styled it, that he wrote a round
dozen of JTcnien in its praise, and published
them in some (iermau Afunen Almanack, whence
I got a commission from good King Ludwig
of Bavaria."
Thus pleasantly conversing, the hours slipped
by unnoticed almost, while the rettura took its
leisurely course towards Milan?over the fat
plains of Lorabardy, battle-riven, blood enriched,
but now waving with wealth. It wan a strange
country for them, just from the ice locked Alps,
these green and irrigated plains, these long
stretches of level road, ditch-lined, and fringed
everywhere with elms, and mulberries, and poplars,
spire like, or pollarded. Now they would
meet a peasant train coming from the maizefields,
singing some song that brought tears to
Helen's eyes?Italians in Italy, singing their
own songs?or a string of mules, with the bells
about their necks waking chi*erfullest echoes,
so that they seemed to dance along under their
burdens?provision-sacks or casks of wine from
Chiavenna, each cask decked out with crowns
of leaves, which, meant simply to keep away
the sun, seemed in fact to be parts of some
Bacchic worship, for which these brown, halfclad
people were so adapted. Then Merivala
would call their attention to a group of idlers, in
the shadow ot some crumbling arch, eagerly
playing the mora, a game perhaps as old as
eternal Rome herself. How picturesque the
costumes, how graceful the movements and unstudied
postures of the men ; and with what
life, intensity, animation, flash and sparkle,
they flung up the quick fingers, eyed each other, j
and screamed out the numbers ! Will there j
not be murder ? asked Helen, shuddering a !
dozen times. No ; 'twas but the decision of a
simple question, involving 110 man's honor?
' dtie o ire did."
At another time, they would pass a wayside
shrine, and Merivale's artistic eye would single
out some woman of the Lombards, with calm,
almost majestic face?broad, smooth brow?eyes
wide apart, and, oh, so large, and gray, and
calm ! Then his face would brighten up, and
poetrv would melt over his lips, almost unconsciously
to him.
And when, with bray of trumpet, and clanking
sabres, and supercilious stare, a troop of
Austrian soldiery would dash bv?Huzzarsofj
Prague, Hulans from the South, or lancers
from the Polish frontier?very gay in their
snow-white uniforms, faced and turned down
with blue, or with cherry-color?as if they were
cannibals from a hasty meal, who had suffered
their victims' blood to drip upon their bosoms?
their pipe-elayed belts, their worsted and marocco
tassels, their high-plnmed hats and heavy
boots?when these dashed by, turning their
white, flaxen moustached faces, and staring insolently
at the occupants of the carriage?then
Helen saw Merivale's brow grow dark with
frowns, aad he pressed his lips tight, and
clenched his teeth, in the manner of one who
invoked a enrse he would not utter aloud.
" What is yonr thought ?:! asked?Rupert.
" I was trying to realize it?those verses of
the poet, rfnd the doctrine which they typify:
Though the mill* of f5od grind slowly, yet they grind
exceeding email;
rhcugb with patience he standi waning, *1 h cxactucM
grinds he all.'
[t must be; yet, oh when shall that iron shod,
rnthless heel be lift off of our land ? You have
beard me laugh at this land; hear my Palinode:
I wonder indeed at Italy. That they can
?ndure at all, mueh less smile, choked so with
dost, and so stormed through and tempestshaken
with hatred as they are, gives me especial
wonder. Those pink-faced dogB who rode
by just now, so gay, so beplutned, so belaced?
would yon believe it? these same hounds have
i EI
1859. .
assisted at the scourging of a woman ! Aye, it
shocks yon; it sounds very strange and very
awful, but it is a truth and a fact, and a matter
in the hands of God, for Him to deal with it
how He lists. Wonder not that I speak bitterly
about it; she was my friend?the sister of my
dearest and nearest friend?and they whipped
her for not betraying him. I saw her once;
she came to Rome while he was there with
me?a noble, calm browed girl, with exalted
eyes, slow-speaking and enthusiastic. He went
back to his native town with her, took part in
some conspiracy, and, when it failed, she hid
him. They led her out?that noble, high born,
delicate girl?they led her out into the open
air, into the very square facing God's temple,
and, while the people tied as they did in Coventry
when Lady Godiva freed the town?fled
in shame and agony and despair?they led her
out there, before the pink-faced brutes, they
tied her tender hands, they stripped off her
clothing, hared her white skin, and lashed her
till the blood stained the white coat of the
officer near by. She did not weep; she uttered J
no cry; she did not even faint, but wandered
off an idiot, to be ministered to by pitying
hands. My friend was far off then, but he !
heard it, be came back, he watched his chances,
and every u^te whom her blood bad sprinkled
had to wash it out with his own?every one 1
save the Colonel; he was reserved. If my friend j
be not dead, he is rotting somewhere in an 1
Austrian dungeon, and she?she lives in Flor !
cnce now, aud has many friends?she sines, i
and picks flowers to pieces. They call her an
idiot, but they dare not let her go near the Austrian
band in the Cascine."
"And the Colonel?" inquired Rupert,
through his clenched teeth.
" The Mariamne sent him a dagger, and he
never knew a moment's peace after that?never
knew what it was to rest. He resigned his 1
commission, and came secretly to Florence; '
but he had not gone into the C^jf^ Dmtei/
before he found a bloody dagger l'n his plate.
A friend of the artist found out who he was,
smo'.e him in the face, and banished him from
a ball. There was a challenge, a meeting,
when, just as the parties were about to fire, a
masked horseman dashed up, smote him once,
and was gone. When we picked him up, there
was a dagger in his heart 'from the Mari
amne.1 "
For the Nationii! Era
Most of the modern nations of Europe are
either of Celtic, Gothic, or Slavonian origin.
The Celtic element is found only in the west of
Europe, in Rretagne, Wales, Ireland, and some
parts of Scotland. England, France, Germany,
Scandinavia, <Stc., are peopled by the Gothic
race, and the Slaves, who were last in the great
swarm of nomads that poured from the hive of
n ? t tu 1 ~c ??: >' ?
V/triiiiai tuc siuic uuusc ui imiiuiia, sjmcupy
the extreme east of Europe?Russia, Poland,
Hungary, and some parts of Turkey. Of
all these races, the Gothic has most attracted the
attention of modem antiquarians and ethnologists.
The richness of its letters, and the peculiar
characteristics of its people, are of the
greatest importance to them in tracing hack
the history of nations far beyond any written
record ; and it is by means of the ancient j
monuments of its literature that the philologist
detects, in the polished phrases of to-day, vestiges
of a language, the rude chords and liar- ,
monies or which still quiver ou the ear. Scandinavia,
especially Iceland, is rich in this spe
cies of literature. Much has been unfortunate
ly lost or destroyed, but her Kddas, Sagas, and
Skaldic compositions, still remain to us, " those
fragments, petrified as it were by time, of a |
gigantic poesy, each a hieroglyph, revealing to 1
us, from the by-gone times of the north, the lie
roic deeds, recollections, and manners, of the
great emigrations, in the full energy of primeval
paganism." It is remarkable that by far the
greater part of this literature is furnished by
Iceland. Settled by a hardy band of Norsemen,
who sought amid 6re and ice the liberty
denied them elsewhere, the population of this
little republic never at oue time exceeded
4,000 ; and yet, such was the mental activity of
her inhabitants, that the compositions of her
Skalds and Saga-meu were renowned among
contemporaries, and even now she is regarded
by many as the foster mother of northern history.
Interesting and even fascinating as are
these records of the rude nations who peopled
Norway, Sweden, and the northern Peninsula,
it is a matter of surprise that they are so rarely |
read and studied by many Americans. There
is nothing in which we should feel more pride,
than that we are of the same stock with those
sturdy heroes of old, who so long ruled the
northern seas ; of those Vikings, who, by their
daring forays, struck terror to the hearts of the
effeminate people of the south of Europe, and
who, aniid all the terrors of death, sung of Odin
and the delights of Valhalla. It was the coursing
of their love of freedom and intolerance of
restraint iu the veins of their descendants that
wrung from a reluctant King the Great Charter
of English liberties, and that laid the head
of another of England's oppressors in the dust.
And, too, it was the same indomitable spirit
that made " Resistance to Tyrants is Obedience
to " fhp watchword of American Freedom
Bat revenous d nos montons, let us return to j
the point we were endeavoring to make plain. ,
In surveying the literature of the Scandinavians,
the Elder, or Sumnndic, Edda at once strikes
the eye as the most ancient and venerable
record of the Norse-Jolk. The thirty-nine
{>oems of which it is composed were first colected
in the latter part of the eleventh century
by Sacmund Sigfusson, a learned Icelander,
from Runic staves and inscriptions, as some
suppose, but, according to the opinion of most
writers, from oral tradition. The antiquity of
these poems is undeniable, bearing internal evidence
of a remote origin. Handed down from
inouth to mouth, for many generations, they
finally came to embody the cosmogony, mythology,
religious belief, and forms of worship, of
the Northmen. It is here that we find their j
conceptions of a future state, and their acknowl
edgment of the immortality of the human soul
In rude poetry, they sing of Odin the eloquent,
who first taught them the art of song, " whose
every word was believed to be true, and whose
discourse wore the garb of poetry; " of the
crafty and treacherous Loke, the gentle Baldtir,
and Foigga, with her attendant nymphs. In
more elevated strains they tell of Hela in her i
dreary palace of death, where were congregated j
those who died a cowardly or ignoble death ; of
Valhalla and its many gates, iu halls crowded j
with heroes, who after daily combat quaffed
foaming mead from the skulls of their enemies:
and they attain a rugged sublimity when describing
Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods,
when the world will be scourged by wars and
bloodshed. " When brother shall rise against
brother, and there will be no mercy, even from
parents to their children."
The most interesting of these poems is the
u Vtihtspd" (the Song of the Prophetess.} It
is a kind of sybilline lay, containing the whole j
system of Scandinavian mythology?" the creation,
the origin of man, how evil and death were i
brought into the world, and concludes by a !
prediction of the destruction and renovation of j
the universe, and a description of the future i
ahndM nf Kliua und misprv." This lutfm ia inn.
posed to have been recited before the people at
stated intervals, probably on their festive and
holidays. We are thus particular in describing
it, inasmuch as the poem in its general features,
and in the use made of it, bears a strking analogy
to similar features in the religious observances
of entirely distinct races. The reader
will remember, that in a former article we referred
to the use of the " Books of Thoth," by
the Egyptian priests. These books were formed
from the earliest traditions and religious notions
of the Egyptians, and it was customary for the
No. 672.
priests to read them for the instruction of the
common people on festivals and sacred occasions.
So, too, among the Druids?of whom, perhaps,
it is proper to premise few things. Turner,
in his liistory of the Anglo-Saxons, writes
thus :
" The Druidical order consisted of three sorts
of men : Druids, Bards, and Ouates. The Bards
were the poets and musicians, of whom some
were Satirists and soine Encomiasts. The
Ouates sacrificed, divined, and contemplated
the nature of things. The Druids cultivated
physiology and moral philosophy ; or, as Diodorus
says, were their philosophers and histo
This complicated system, however, was not
the primitive Druidism, but was introduced bv
those priests of the order, who, by intercouse
with the Continent, acquired many of the refined
habits of thought and discrimination
consequent upon the rapid advance of Roman
civilization. The primitive religiou of the
Britons was rude in the extreme, yet, such as
it was, it commanded the reverence of the people,
and exempted its ministers from many
burdens. Excited by such advantages, many
voluntarily submitted themselves to the Druidical
discipline, and others were sent by their
friends and relatives. " They were said to
learn a great number of verses there : so that
some remained twenty years under the education.'1
These verses embraced the fundamental
doctrines of Druidism, and, indeed, the whole
religious belief of the Britons. They were
often recited to the people, who by hearing
them, were confirmed and strengthened in the
religion of their forefathers.
The reader must acknowledge the resemblance
between these religious customs of en
tirely different nations to be very evident.
Looking at the most antique monuments of
v-uj/ui:, vjoimc, ana uettic literature, we find
not only the same suhjecf treated of, but also
the same use made of the subject. And this
not only proves our point?that poetry is of antiquity
above all prose ? bnt makes eloar
another and greater truth. For it is remarkable
that the primeval records of a nation's history
are found in its religious compositions, and
its fir.-t intellectual effort is to comprehend the
great truths of the universe. We see the hand
of God in all things, and in nothing is it more
manifest than in the divine workings of the human
soul, which, however rude and unlearned,
still forms some idea of the attributes of Deity,
aud erects some altar, unformed and uncouth
though it be, at which it can offer sacrifice and
prayer. Whilst contemplating this proof of an
overruling and divine providence, one cannot
but pity the follv aud blindness of those in our
day, who, denying the existence of a God and
the immortality of the soul, live in worse than
Epicurean darkness?when even the Pagan
could say, " Sunt enim e terrfl homines non tit
incolae et habitores scd quasi sjtedatores supera
rum rem m at que cctlestium
A further examination of the Norse literature
is not necessary, for what little has been
instanced is suflicient to establish oar point.
But we cannot refrain here from calling attention
to the similarity of the Eddaic to the
ancient Homeric or heroic verse, the oldest
national verse of Greece. The learned antiquarian.
Finn Magnusen, first pointed out this
resemhlanflo- amt o? fimi aw.V,? mnr.
, --f-,-- ? ??
appear improbable, yet either the Greek or
Latin hexameter, by decomposition, makes a
perfect Icelandic narratire verse. Indeed,
Kask, in his Anglo Saxon grammar, says that
" the hexameter seems to be merely a somewhat,
though very little, restricted variety of
the freer, rougher, and probably elder, form ex
hibited in the narrative verse.
( a,
Camp on Epsom Ckexk.
To the Editor of the National Era :
Epsom Creek is so called from the peculiar
quality of its water, which tastes as would a
quart of rain water impregnated with a tablespoonfull
of Epsom salts. The peculiar tiavor
of this water renders it unpleasant and almost
undrinkable for the men, but the horses and
other animals seem to like it better than water
nut thus impregnated. We, after some searching,
found a fine pool of pure rain-water, held
by a r%d clay reservoir, and shaded from the
sun's rays by the steep clay batiks of a ravine,
from whence we carried water for drinking and
making coffee. The grass in the vicinity being
of sufficient quantity and good quality, the
commanding officer, with the consent of the
doctor, determined to remain encamped for
several days.
After the tents were pitched, I took my fowling
piece, and strolled down the creek on foot,
for the purpose of bagging a few young turkeys,
rabbits, grouse, or quails, to fry, broil, or roast,
at supper, for our mess, one of whom had promised
to make a "pot " of extra good and strong
coffee, while another undertook to have ready a
lot of fine, tempting, warm biscuits. I had not
proceeded more than a mile before I succeeded
in " bagging " a hare, three grouse, and two
quails, and was about returning with my game,
when 1 noticed that a stream of fresh blood
had recently been trickling over the short
grass. Some wounded and bleeding thing of
life had certainly but just passed that way.
From the manner the blood, st'll warm, was
, i.|
sprinkled on the grass, whatever it was had
been going up out of the creek and passing !
through a spur of scrubby oaks. My hounds !
had not followed me, and my only canine company
was a small setter, who evinced great
fear, and appeared reluctant to follow the trail
of blood, unless accompanied by me. So we
set out together in a tour of discovery, the setter
being very careful not to get far in advance
of me. On nearing the outskirts of the grove,
1 espied a very large panther, (indeed he appeared
as large as a mule,) standing over the
dead body of a fine, large deer which he had
just slain, and was doubtless carrying to his
female companion and her young whelps in
their cavern home in some neighboring canonlike
ravine. His majesty had doubtless discovered
Tasso, the setter, who was a little to
my right, for he had assumed a half-crouching
position, and was closely watching the movements
of the little fellow, but seemed determined
not to be frightened out of his "resting
spellI cautiously gained a nearer proximity,
and, taking aim right at the small of his
back, fired. The shot took effect, for his panthership
suddenly bounded forward with a quick
and painful howl. But the laithful mate and
lather, though wounded, had no idea of relin- I
Juishing his prize, and returned, took up the 1
eer as a large dog would a rabbit, and was
about to bound off with it, when I pulled trig- I
ger, and gave him the contents of my other
barrel just behind the left shoulder. The last
barrel discharged had a heavier load of larger
shot thpn the first, and therefore a more serious
effect. The poor fellow uttered a sharp shriek,
bounded high in the air, fell heavily to the
ground, and rolled over several times in ex- j
cruciating agony ; after which, he rose to his
feet, and doubtless would either have engaged
me in a hand-to hand fight, or relinquished the
field and fled, but while he was going through
his painful contortions, I drew my revolver,
charged upon him, and, jost as he gained his
feet, i sent a pistol-ball through his brain. He
fell forward, and turned on his side to breathe
his last. But I did not relish the idea of trust- i
ing anything to so formidable and ferocious an
animal, and did not cease firing until I had
put the six halls through hi* huge skull.
By this little adventure, I added a fine deer
to our larder, and wofully disappointed Mrs.
Panther and her family ot young ones in their
anticipations of a delicious supper. Thi9 panther
is one of the largest I ever saw?measur
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Q. BAILEY, Washington, D. C. %
ing nine feet four inches from the tip of his
nose to the tip of his tail. *
i ne next (lay, wnue out on one ot my botanizing
rambles, 1 was struck by the picturesque
pictifre which our camp presents, when viewed
from a distance. It is situated in the centcg of
a bowl-shaped hollow or basin. The narrow
ravine, through which fipsom Creek runs, gives
this basin or bowl the appearance of having
been broken in halves, each half standing
separate and upright. Iu the bottom of one
half lies a white canvas city, with all the evidences
of busy life and rural quiet combined. 1 p
In the foreground are to be seen groups of
men engaged in animated conversation; groups
of men leisurelv strolling bilher and thither, as
if their only object was to kill the time hanging
heavily about them; groups of men lazily
lounging on the soft, greensward; groups of
men sitting on the banks, of the creek angling
for the finny tribe; and now then a man sitting
in the door of a tent, smoking his pipe, while he
peruses the pages of some favorite author. In
the background are the camp fires, with the
mess cooks engaged in their duties. Here and
there the stars and stripes maybe seen floating .
above the steeple like tops of tents, and lazily
fluttering in the gentle breezes. On the opposite
side of this broken bowl arc to be seen
vast numbers of horses, mules, and horned cattle,
leisurely nipping the sweet and tender | (
grass. All day, golden-fleece clouds have been
rapidly chasing each other across the heavens.
The rays of the sun, struggling through these
goldeu clouds, impart a soft and mellow tinge
to the landscape. Altogether the scenery is
peculiarly romantic and affecting. Reclining
here on a gentle southern slope, far above the
picturesque catnp and its surroundings, one
realizes that he is far from the bustling haunts
of civilization and the handiwork of art?in the
midst of primitive prandeur and quiet sublimity.
Here Nature paints pictures that outvie
those noble efforts of Rubens, Tenuiers, and
other old Flemish artists, who have left an admirinp
world immortal proofs of their great
While gazing upon these aniet and beautiful
pictures, one involuntarily falls into a oontem
plative reverie, and dreams of the great artists
who have so well and so faithfully imitated the
grandeur, the sublimity, the beauty, and the
truth of Nature, and spread their immortal inspirations
on canvas, and handed it down to
gladdcu the hearts and spiritualize the intellects
of future generations; and he fervently
thanks God that minds have been thus endowed.
While thus absorbed in pleasing meditations,
indulged in the quiet of blissful repose, and
soul-feasted on the transcendent beauties of
Nature, dark and heavy clouds chase away '
those light and gold-fleeced ones. A portentous
shadow thickens around. The landscape t '
scenery assumes a Ilemhrandtic hue. The
little birds, just now so joyous, raise their tiny
notes of alarm, and hastily flit hither aud
thither in search of shelter and a retreat of*
safety from the gathering storm. Darker and
darker grow the heavens, until they seem to be
shrouded in a funeral pall; and the blar-kneo ,
of liiuht seems tn have usiirned (Im l\?Wt r\C
-- ?pi-- ? r? ?" ?
<lay. Low muttered thunder finds utterance I
far away in the distance. It rolls up from
every direction, and as it receives re enforce
mcnts becomes louder and more noisy, until
crash after crash comes with such terrific and
awe inspiring effect as to deafen the sense, and
combine all the bombardments and cannona
dings that mortal mind ever read of, or the
imagination ever conceived. The lightning,
which at first but faintly flashed here and there , J
along the horizon, has now become one vast
sheet of flame, through which millions of monster
Bwords, of denser heat aud more glaring
color, are cutting and slashing at a fearful rate.
No use to i un from the storm. We would
probably lie overtaken in a worse position.
We are safer here on this isolated spot than
wo would be in camp, where there is so much i
animal electricity. And then it will be a rare
treat to have Nature give us a real earnest
shower bath. It will be so reviving, after the
hot and sultry day; so we will quietly fold our
arms, while the elements rage around us. St ill
the lightnings continue incessantly to angrily
flash and dart, and cut and slash, back and
forward. Onward rolls the deep toned thunder,
roAring, rumbling, cracking, and crashing,
in awful majesty. Oh, what a terrific warfare
of the elements 1 waiting for the rain to de
acend in welcome and refreshing torrents.
Now come drops, " like angels' visits, few and
far between." Large drops they are. They if
strike the ground with a dull, heavy, and splashing
sound. For a few minutes they continue
to fall, and then cease altogether. The thunder
retires, growling like u discomfited lion.
Forked streaks of lightning chase each other ,
away. Still the heavens are shrouded in dense
blackness, and darkness prevails. A noisy
wind comes rushing up from the southwest,
with a hollow, moaning sound. All of a sudden
the clouds break away from a narrow slip ,
of the western horizon, and reveal the sun,
(only half an hour high,) in all his glaring 3M
light and resplendent glory. Oh I what a
grand and magniticent picture is now presented
to our enraptured view! The sun and the
heavy black clouds, striving lor the ascendency,
give the scene such a strange and peculiar
appearance. The feathered songsters
leave their hiding places aud sail forth, sing- .
ing their joyous praise in sweetest strains of ?
melody The clouds begin to break up and
run away. The few heavy drops that fell k i i
would doubtless have been massive hailstones,
had the upper atmosphere been cooler. They
have had the effect to raise a sweet and delicious
perfume from the herbs and flowers.
But sufficient rain to lay the dust has not
fallen 1 All the mighty preparation has proved j
u much ado about nothing." And thus, at 1
this season of the year, all attempts at rain in '
this country prove a stupendous failure. And ]
vet these plains far surpass any other country
1 have ever visited in celestial pyrotechny and
artillerv. ft
One of those storms of thunder and lightning ' J
is generally preceded by alternate hot and cold I
breezes, coining invariably from the southwest. 1
The hot breezes sometimes remind one of the
blast from the mouth of an intensely-heated
furnace. These counter currents of air con
stitute' an atmospherical phenomenon I have
never heard explained.
I have unwittingly suffered my pen to glide ?
along, endeavoring to draw a faint picture of
one day of life on the plains, until I fear I have
exhausted yeur patience. Next week I wili
give you a visit to Prairiedogtown, and observations
among the small animals of the plains.
^ruly, yours, Qcy Oak leaf.
Skf.lktox Strata.?The skeletons in oar
crowded London graveyards lie in layers which i
are quite historical in their significance, and
which would be often startling if the circum
stances of their juxtaposition could be made
known. A cutting from an old London uewspaper,
(title and date uncertain,) and which
exists in the well-known repository of Mr.
Green, of Covent Garden, contains an example
of skeleton contact, which is unnsuallly curious,
if reliable. It is there stated that Dr. Sacheverell
is buried in St. Andrew's, Uolborn, and
that the notorious Mother Xeedham, of Ho
1 ' 1 ? l! i . 1 1 _
trartn, 18 lying aoyye aim, aim move ner again
is interred Booth, the actor?a strange stratiGcation
of famous or notorious clay.? English
The Gas.? The Providence Journal haj
been asked by several persons u to say something
about the gas," and replies, " ^Ve don't
dare to. Whenever we venture even a hint
against the quality of the gas, the very courteous
agent of the works comes into our office
nnd, in the mildest and most persuasive maq
ner in the world, convinces ns that we were
wrong, and makes us take it all back. If,
therefore, we should say that latterly the gas
has been very deficieut in illuminating power,
we should ^e obliged to retract to-morrow. So
we will say nothing about it j but if anybody
wishes to have our private opinion of the illuminating
quality of the gas by which we writq
this paragraph, we are ready to give it,"

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