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For the National Kra
XII ? Conc'odoi.
" Never mind it, Helen," said he, soothingly;
' that is all past, and shall not come ftgain. 1
am free from the chain at last."
" Oh, papa!" cried the, sobbing a* if her
heart were sore indeed, "why have you been
so cruel! You are killing us, mother and me?
breaking our hearts. Why will you do so?
You keep away?you shun us?you will aot let
us console yon?and all the while, yoa are
chahng yonr heart away with some hidden grief
in this dismal, uncouth den ! It must not be?
you are killing me?killing me I "
" Let me not think that, dearest," said ha,
gently. " I have enough to answer for as it is.
And, pet, I will do better now; I have some
sense of duty, and can perform it, sometimes,
though you may think otherwise. I shall be
lietter now?oh, Helen, darling," and he shuddered
palpably, "I have so suffered! That
must be my excuse. I have so wished to die?
to steep myself in uuthonght I Great God!
child, it has been Hell, here in my heart, all
this long time?dark, seething, smouldering
Hell: no hope, no joy?only ceaseless woe,
ceaseless pain, ceaseless despair!"
"But you will shake it off? You will come
to me, to mother, when you suffer most, instead
of languishing here?you will come to
us?" said she, eagerly, tremulously, clasping
hirn to her with warm, loving arras.
" Yes, dearest, I will come."
"And oh, my father, promise me you will
give up this horrid cell! that you will never
again enter it, but will let me lock it, and keep
the key. 'Tis this place has made you suffer
so?I know it. That mournful cry of despair,
written there upon the wall, is enough to chill
yo >r blood?oh, promise ! "
"I promise, Helen."
" That is my dearest father! Oh, we will be
so happy together, presently. And mamma
will learn how to smile again. And you?'tis
a pity you do not laugh?when you have such
white teeihl I am happy already, papa, so
happy?for, dear, I was so, so afraid some awful
thing was the matter, and we had lost you, forever
!/ Oh, such an awful fear it was ! I hare
dreamed it at night, pa, until I had to start out
of bed and light my lamp to weep by"
"Dreams!" murmured he, as if the shadows
of those terrible presences had fallen suddenly
athwart him, chilling him like contact with the
black death-ilood of Acheron. He shuddered,
paled, and pressed his hand before his eyes.
" But we will have no more such fearful
dreams," said she, gaily ; " our dreams henceforth
will be all music and flowers and sunshine.
Yes, you must never come here any
more ; we must lock all the horrid shadows and
inoody thoughts in here?this door will keep
them safe euough, I think. And I will fix you
up such r delicious nook, papa. You know
that little room with the great sun-painted window,
between yoer chaadhn and jour parb??fWall,
there's a little carp t will just suit if, and
George shall get some shelves made, and I will
cheat you into telling ine what are just your
favorite books, and, some day, when you and
mamma are out riding on the Cornice road, or
towards Monte Kaecio?yon must drive her out,
you know, for both need exercise and the fresh
air?1 will nt the shelves up, so that when
you come home you will smile to see yourself
suddenly in the company of those beloved old
friends. Won't it be nice, aud such a glad surprise
! Meantime, the room shall be put in order
this very day, and we will have your desk
and papers moved up, and you can study there
in the clear daylight ? ob, so much better!
And sometimes, when you are busy, and
gloomy thoughts vex you, you must not stay
alone, bnt send for me, and I will come with
my book or my work, and keep still *s a mouse,
so as not to disturb you. Only when I see by
your brow that some thought troubles you, I
will steal up to you, noiselessly, and kiss you?
thu3?that will drive the shadow away. And
then 1 will invite you sometimes to write in
my room; and mamma will be there, and Rupert?you
do not know rfhat a noble heart Rupert
has, papa, and l?sw much he loves you?
and our low talk, instead of annoying, will help
you, like the accompaniment of a song. Happy
days in reserve tbr us I Why have we not anI
ticipated them ere now?"
She did not know what the painful expression
which flitte/ then across his brow meauL To
her, these A ings were very easy; one had but
to say, II shall be so, and all was done. But,
to higj^-?h, how the black interlining of his
despair shone through and spoiled the pink silken
r<V>es of joy which she would fling over his
shojdders! Instructed by the past, he dared
no? indulge hopes for the future. And then?
hdw black the shadow backward thrown from
diose days and nights in the Oubliette !
" We will try to be happy, ray darling child ;
and if I fail in the effort, 'twill be no fault of
A Irooflr I fae\ crvnr nrefinna sunshine.
Helen. How much I have lost! How much 1
How mnch! Now, again, dear, I know what
hope is."
" Oh, papa, I cannot tell you how much comfort
it gives me to hear you speak thus I You
have hope ? Then all must go well; fear slinks
away when hope comes. With you and Italy?
how I shall smile and sing! How I shall grow
up into a real woman ! "
"A real woman now, my Helen?a woman
like your sex?
u! When rain *nd anguish wring the brow,
A ministering aneel, thou !'
Hut this letter. It is most important. Yon say
the bearer waits? Where is he ? I will go see
him. And be careful that we are not interrupted."
" He is in the tapestry room, papa. Bnt you
must first go to your dressing room, and fix up
a little. 1 am a great girl for 'primming,' you
know, bnt I like my sweetheart papa to look
well. Who wonld not, when he is such a handsome
man? I will call George; you must be
shaved, your beard is too long; it makes you
look really haggard."
So saving, she linked her arm in his, and
wont up the stairs with him, dancingly, her
heart full of joy. While George was shaving
her father she sat by, chatting, commenting
upon sights visible from the window, or reading
him some lively item from a late number of
' George," said Mr. Lloyd, with a slight
tremor in his tone, " Miss Helen will give you
the key of the?the room in the basement, and
I wish you to take the papers on my desk, all
of them, and bnm them. Helen, see that it is
properly done, will you, child ? And?do not
p-ad them."
" Oh, I will attend to it,"' cried Helen, joyfully
; " I know that those wicked papers have
done you harm. What a bonfire wc will hare,
won't we, George ??a perfect auto-da-fe
George stared at them in a very bewildered
sort of way.
" I may tell him ?*' asked she, half by whisper,
half by look, of her father; then she twirled
the key of the Oubliette triumphantly in her
hand, saying, with the brightest smile, " See,
George, good, kind George, thio is mine?mine!
^ ou know what that means? We are never
going into that dark place any more, bat we
are going to work and study together; and oh,
I am so happy!"
i he negro's eyes fairly glistened, bnt he said
[nothing, only proceeded with his brushing and
manipulations with redoubled vigor and spirit.
" George," said Mr. Lloyd, holding out his
band, "lam going to try, ifiy faithful friend. f<
You will help me?" b
George touched the hand a moment with his ii
own, while he gazed into bis master's face, n
Then he turned quickly awiy, his hands seem- u
ing possessed with unusual bustle. a
" Sar, ef you want me to shave you, don't *
talk to me now, please. Vse jest got 'boat as 1
much es I kin hold. Mori too. You look t]
somewhar else, Miss Heine, else you got to y
shave you father youself. ] knows jeet one *
thin'. Yisteddav, I wisht r was outcn dis pal +
lis?prayed to de Lord to le'trime go. Jest
now, said he, with a smile and tone fall of an ii
indescribably humorous pathos; "jest now et a
'pens to me 'bout es good % plxe to live in as u
I ever see. Miss Helen 1" 'trie 4 he, with a sad- s
den passionate impulse, " fou ft an angel! I r
know'd it, fust time I seed'yoa. Oh. you kin r
laugh, but me an* yon knows all about dat, c
don't we, marsler ? <1
" Yes, George, and we nr net prove our sense v
of God's goodness, in send ng us such a bless- a
ing" f
u Why, pa, what have I d?me to be so exalted
? You woold not have jne selfish, would ?
juu i i utu iu*yvy cuuu^u IVJ HTC lit tuc Dun- "
shine, and I only wanted /on to share it with
me. There is room enough for us all. And I
one is happier for seeing all around her happy." 1
u Not always, my child," said Mr. Lloyd, 1
sadly, remembering his fee'ir^s upon that sub- s
ject ia the height of his glcom and the mad- j
neas of his defiance. '
" I likes my cystera to be bettcr'n anybody
else's," confessed George wi h a candid nairetd,
which made Mr. Lloyd jmile, in spite of
Then, George having 'lashed his offices,
Helen declared sh? was detej ai?ed to see her
father nicely fixed ; and to j?at end was very
busy about him before the "gt arranging his
collar, tying his cravat in a^dainty knot, and
mingling little kisses and ci reuses, and lively
words, with her pleasant tasl. At last, having
done all she could, she gavd) into his face a
moment, saying, "You look rn years younger.
Now go and see the visiter, r;id he very good.
After he is gone, you must e-fjse to my rooms,
which I will darken up, so jpat you can He
down upon the sofa, and hgys a good nap before
dinner. I will watch you, for I see you
need rest very much. Ani, Tf you are very
good, you shall dine en fawtdle to-day. Be
sure, now, to come to me as sfira as that h ideous
black-bearded monster is tt eve has finished
his talk. I expect he comes hogging."
With these words, and a kiss, she suffered
him to go, dancing off her < I", and twigging
George's ear, as she skipb^l past him along
the corridor. She was very happy, because she
had helped to cause happiue^t.
That is woman's way, aiwrjs. The more
diffusive she can make he'.fight, the brighter
glows that light itself. God rf ess thee, woman,
heart-full, true, loving wonsati! God hath
blessed thee, and with a bier tin.? mightier than
the blessing of man, for !?, ?ath given thee,
instead of the cavilling u? k rstanding, that
which is far higher, nobler,_:<C"Te Godlike, the
Pare Reason, which feels, t . - is convinced,
which acts by the heart, y>e not postulate
from the brain 5 and lie h? h given thee Love
so great, that there is ple^Mtrt to thee in loving,
aye, in the very act 1 ove, aside from
its gifts and offices, its rovafc p ace and its imperial
emoluments. Shall xi ./onder that our
original father was comforteo in his banishment,
with the desert stretel\n? all before him,
and the glare of the sword-driving him on?
comforted, because his hagd was linked in
?? ? ??4 lk??Aian.' tlm f.i nil !
mine, wuiiiau, auu vuj ?mvc ^j-uiuci imv mu.v .
Ecre sujnum! By this lovtf^by weakness con- (
quers death.
M By t|y *n p*
w And aspiration, by ?Ar lr--t <ind faith.
U exceed tha ? am . ^ >fci% aHgf I! "
This love?by it thou r- .c.iest again the
Heaven which once thou l_?i*us, and from it '
reaehest down thy hand to^if1 us up. If we
be too heavy, this love ofline even brings J
thee back ^Fain to our side,'j,o Rhare whatever
may be our lot. 80, we my1. bless thee ;
" If sin ca. j> fey thee,
And by rin, <*ewth?the rmirq i? iRlitenusnesss, '
The heavenly life anil rnmp?) "tfcve rest
Come by ll ee loo. .
Besnii *!d;
Something Hon bast to beer f o eh wotr.anhood?
Peculiar suffering an?weri>iR k^e *in.
But ro u ! *hy love
Shall chant il*elf its own bee' odes, I
After it? own life-working ? a
* S*uc-._* crown
I net upon thy head, to keep t~7J 'Hear
Of all reproa-h aeaii-el the >reRone?
Thy hand whirh plucked the ? -c-'e I rlsrp cloee ;
The lips which spake wrong < i*el, I kiss close?
I bless ihee in the name of P< f)%M,
And by the memory of Kdenl- *y? I
Forfeit and lott "
u I.et I.ovd ciasp Grief, leat b? . *? drowned,
I^l darkness keep her rnv ^n?* ;
Ah' tweeter to he drunk a *>rs.
To dance with death, to beat ^ ; ound
" Than that the victor hours . d scorn
The Ion* result of lore, anl- at:
Bebola the man that love. >" J lost,
Bat all he was is overworn.'}'
II Palazzo Citco had shadows in its
lofty rooms, in its oubliettes, r? its long, sounding
corridors, aud athwart its broad, stately
stairs. Shadows gloomy enough at times;
shadows that lay long ant) Kl.?*k, like the form
of some one murdered and c i ; shadows that
decked the wainscot, and s . ^ed the marble
tlags like gouts of blood i< farionsly shed ;
shadows that Uitted to am fro, aud up and
down, with the raysteriout noiselessness of
ghosts. Why should not th?se fallen Garame
lis revisit their old familiar halls, and, sighing,
peep into their own familiar chambers, which
the plebeian Foreatiere were now desecrating ?
And the lovers?shall we wonder if lovely Mary
comes bock to Holyrood, and sighs and wrings
her hands by the spot where the cruel daggers
pierced poor Rizzio? And in Venice, at midnight,
hast never seen that spectral gondola gliding,
noiseless, with no music of scull, no verses
of Tasso, along the Grand Canal ? 'Tis Lucrezia;
she of the pale yellow hair, seeking her
Gennaro, whom she has poisoned, whom she
loves, whose voice she will never, never hear
again, for he is deadl Ah, miserable death,
coming thus ever, with tby cold breath, between
But we are no ghost-seers ; and if we were,
there would be small chance of our being gratified
now, for to-day the shadows are weak and
faint and pale?very pale?-in Palazzo Cieco.
It is quite a happy palacb to-day. The sun
shines as if determined to out do his youth?as
if resolved to hint to us of some of those resplendent
glories he shed doVn upon Eden on
that day when Adam, walking through the garden,
found his bride a toying with her tresses
by the fountain's brink. Sunshiny Pepe, in
the garden, tumbles about ?ke a kitten, singing,
and keeping up a lively Castanet accompaniment
with thumb and fingers. Orazio has received
a largesse, and now sits in the doorway
with a bottle of sweet wine and a platter of
figs. Bene! Bene! Life is like Madonna's
smile this day 1 The lizards are exuberantly
merry; they rnn np and down, they spread
themselves in the warm ledges and cracks of '
the wail, now darting upon a fly, now snoozing
won one eye open, uuw piuuo U|nU mEU
with legs stretched out, sunning their yellow
bellies ! Verily, Palazzo Cioco is a happy palace
to-day. George has mounted a stupendous
white cravat, tied in the most outrageous of
bow-kaots; his hair is wonderfully combed,
whether we consider the puffs at the sides, the <
well-winnowed u part," or the rounded, oiled,
ambitious " top-knot." And George has taken
possession of happiness this morning?has
made it his own?and wrapped his person
about it as closely and completely as a black
kidglove can enwrap a hand!
Whence, then, does it happen that to-day the
shadows are so faint, so impotent, so insignificant,
in Phlazzo Cieco t
Suppose that, today, to-morrow, or next
week, or some time, it were to be proclaimed
in Venice, and throughout the whole State of
Venetia ? proclaimed with bray of trumpet
and voice of herald, from senate, church, and
guard room, by voice of magistrate, and printed
manifesto, that?his Imperial Majesty Francis
Joseph, with a due regard to the well-being of
his people^ hath absolutely decreed, and now
makes it known, that, from this time, hencew
. m.. * . ... .
>rth, forever more, persecution shall cease in
is good kingdom of Venetia; that men shall
>How the dictates of their own conscience in
eligious matters ; that the dungeons are nc
lore open to political prisoners ; that all such
re free from this day; and, that Spielberg is
bolished, and Mantna's vanlts to be filled up !
'hink yoo the shadows would fail heavy athwart
he lion of St. Mark's on such a day? Think
ou those palaces and lagoous and canal;
rould not wake up for once, and blaze and
oar with one mighty feu de joief
And why shall we not equally rejoice to-daj
q Falazao Cieco! For this is the day of the
\ulo-da-fe; to day, the dismal Oubliette is ev&c
ated forever, is locked up, henceforth to sub
ist as exclusively a thing of the past, to be
emetnhered perhaps with a shadder, but nevei
nore to be watched with pain and dismay ? to
lay, also, the prisoner is free ; he has fongbt a
lireful combat with the spectres, but be hat
anquished them?they have fled in a dismayed
md broken rout, and the prisoner is regenerate
rom this hoar.
Bo thinks Helen, child of hope and sunshine
md let us cast no shadow athwart the pleasant
Mr. Beale's interview with that " hideout
tearded monster"?who was none other tbar
i'ierro, the disciple of Mariamne, as the readei
tas already guessed?was quite a long one; am
vhen her father came to her room, as he hac
iromised, she noticed that he gave evidence
>oth of excitement and exhaustion. She
wheeled the lounge into an easy position, tool
lis hot hands in hers, led him to it, and mad<
urn lie down, with a tender, persuasive forot
hat was irresistible. Tht-ti. nl&pincr & abnw
icross his feet, she darkeued the room, anc
ook her seat qnietlv by hia side, holding on<
>f his hands, and passing her hand gentle
icross his hot, flashed brow. He murmurer
inly a few worda of thanks, in a tremulous
mice, and then rewarded her cares by gradu
illy dropping off to sleep.
While it pained her greatly, she was fjlad tc
iave witnessed that sleep of his, since it gav?
ler a clearer idea than she could have obtainet
n any other way, of the extent and horrible na
ure of hia Bufferings, and of the necessity fo
immediate relief in hia case. For he coul<
lot sleep without dreaming, and such dreams
l'hey trausccnded any conception she hacbevei
iiitertaine'1 of terror; now he would murmu
ndistinguishable words of entreaty, of depreca
ion, of agonized prayer, while the cold swea
itarted out in great beads upon bis forehead
low he would shiver, and shrink, and moan
painfully and feebly, as if despair had full pos
session of hia soul; now he would whisper o
iecrets intrusted to his care, dire aud awful se
irets, to reveal any of which was death, death
while his hands made the motion of strange an<
mystic signs, and his lips formed to wliispe
pass worda ; now he would start up, shriekiDg
md tear the scorpions from his bosom, plucl
die vipers from his throat, or rend the flainin/
garments that burnt him to the core ! But a
loon as her hand touched him, he was soothed
would fall quietly back, and murmur gentli
words of hope or of blessing. Thus Helen kep
her painful vigils at her father's side, and wai
rewarded by seeing him wake up more calm
more composed, his fever gone, himself refresh
;d,and more inclined to quiet converse than sh<
:iad ever seen him. He was very grave, ver
houghtful, but he seemed better able to re
drain his feelings, more rational, and mori
master of himself, than ever before.
At dinner, this happy state of things contin
led, and was observed of all. Even Mademoi
lelle took occasion to remark, privately, t<
George, that
" M'sicur Beale, he 'av' von sane inter \all
You see ? Zen I sink he get ver' veil, von day
Become gentleman, of raison vraie ei proprc, a
he is of 1ITI* irllr yrntulsur rt d'tinc telle beaut
le la fit/nre"
11 We, madamselle," responded George, gra
piously, " me an' Miss Helen is goiu' to briiq
hiin round, all right."
Miss Helen indeed spared no efforts to ac
complish that desirable object. She had talk
sd with liupert, asking him to exert all hi
powers of pleasing; and now she sought he
mother, who v an in her own room, sitting will
hands in lap, the shadow over pale fa^e, list
less, weary, broken-spirited. Hers was thi
gradual prostration that comes after long, Ion/
years of suffering, a chronic woe, which yield,
sc arcely ever to any treatment?never excep
to the assuaging touch-of time.
" Mamma, mamma," cried Helen, embracin;
her. Mthis must not he. Yonr looks are a con
stant reproach to papa, and he will recove
now, if we wjtch over him, and treat him right
You must rouse yourself. You must be chcei
ful, must smile,and talk. It is our duty, audit
is our place to woo papa back to life and hope
He could not have endured what he ha9 gon
through much longer, mother, and he may evei
now be on the eve of a crisis. We must bel|
to support him through it. Come, now, yoi
never failed him before; do not fail him now
in what may be the hour of his greatest need
If he falls back now, mamma, he will die ; bu
if we succeed, he is our/, henceforth. Yo
know what that means."
Thus did this loving and lovely girl become
as it were, a David's harp, before'whose powei
ful sonl-music the shadows flitted and were n
more, the evil spirits vanished, shrieking, am
all this house of Saul was comiorted and mad
Yet Helen confessed to herself that the shad
ows were not quite gone, yet; it would hav
been unreasonable to expect so soon this con
summation ; and, moreover, there came one o
two unexpected clouds in her sunshine, so tha
on the whole light and shade were pretty equa
ly blended in the picture, and the brilliancy c
the rhiaro was perhaps relieved and enhance'
by opacity and sombreness of the osairo. Stil
Helen drew a liappy augury even from this; t
her hopeful fancy, the shadows, the mist, th
gloom, were of the early morning ; when the da
should fully break, and the sun have mounte
sufficiently towards the zenith, these childre
of the night would be completely dispelled
they dared not face the majestic presence of th
" garish day."
Besides what his sleep had taught her of he
father's infirmities, and of his enfeebled, nn
vons condition, she was further enlightenec
and still more pained, at beholding his condoc
during dinner. She saw that he wished to tnak
himself agreeable, to please and entertain then
and it gave her a great shock to observe hir
struggling almost blindly amid the confuse
suggestions of a shattered mind, seeking to ca1
up vanished ideas, and grasping impotently a
ter expressions that his memory refused to suf
ply. Now and then his thoughts would get th
upper hand of him, too, and he would waude
off in abstracted fashiotf, forgetting his purpose
and where he was. And again, Helen conl
see by his pursed brow, and his distraught eyi
aud his quivering lip, that he was hack agaii
among the spectres, in the red light of th
smoking lamp, locked in behind that iron-stn<3
ded door of the Oubliette. At these times wa
it that Helen proved her thoughtful, her nobl
womanhood. Her hand it was that touched hi
gently, to call him back ; her voice that rouse
him, with a question, a merry banter, a su$
gesiive idea; and ever with watchful care sh
helped out his confused talk, invested bis vagn
questions with consistency, gave him new sut
jects upon which to converse; led him gentl
away from all exciting topics, and flattered hir
into self-content and patience with his infirm
ities. It is only a woman who can make us sal
isfied with our shortcomings; can persuade u
that gout is symbolic of fortano, sciatica an en
blem of industry, gray hair graceful, and bait
ness dignified. If we stammer, 'tis from exi
berance ot ttiougnt ana iaea; n we are poor, s
was Cincjnn?itus-~-none but the poor are hoi
orable; if we fail in love, 'tis lucky for us, sine
our virtues transcend so infinitely her deserti
Sweet prover of our weaknesses! Thou mak'i
us vain in spite of our intentions, using us s
the music used the chill old Beadsman, in Joh
Keats's poem;
?t-" Music's golden tongue
Flatt? r'd to tears this aged man and poor "
What count poverty, and age, and numbnes
when snch a voice melts into our ears?
* m
i AU went merry enough so, until Rupert,
i turning towards his sister, saia :
u Helen, I met Morivale again this morning,
at the Feder. He aayi he will eal! for yon tomorrow,
to show you the Cariguano church,
and wishes to know if pa and mamma will not
join the party. It is a fine chance, for he knows
all about such things."
Helen saw her father glance quickly np, Bbe
i noticed the gathering clond about his brow and
1 the compression of his lips.
" I am too unwell to go," said Mrs. Beale,
r languidly, "and you and Helen must accom
pany him, unless Mr. Beale wishes to go with
. you."
" Of whom do yon speak? " asked the father,
i in a harsh tone; " I know no one of that name,
and I have never been informed that Miss Heleu
- received visiters in my house." .There was much
t sarcasm in these words, and Rupert's face coli
ored with anger, as he said, rapidly:
I "You have kept yourself so much aloof from
; us, sir, that there is small wonder if you know
nothing of what has been going on amougst us;
, Mr. Merivale "
t Here he paused, reluctantly, but unable to
resist Helen's imploring glance ; and she qoicki
ly resumed where be left off.
i " Mr. Merivale, papa/' said tba," is a travelr
ling acquaintance of ours, an artist, to whom
I Rupert and 1 are under many obligations;"
1 here she briefly recounted their adventures at
i Como, and sketched an account of his assist>
ance to them in Milan ; " he came to (Jenoa
i to study some frescoes here, and, having found
; us out, of coarse paid us a visit. I remembered
> what you told us the day after our arrival,
1 papa," added she, a little reproachfully, " but 1
1 had no intention of keeping the acquaintance
> a secret, since I am sure you will consent to
r exempt Mr. Merivale from your prohibition
1 during his visit to Genoa. He has promised
? to show me all the celebrities of the city, a feast
- I should hate to be deprived of."
" And he has promised to give me some les>
sons in art," quoth Rupert; " I'm tired of doing
> nothing, and, i' faith, 1 do not see why I may
1 not become an artist."
u Humph ; a Titian or a Correggio, no doubt,"
r said Mr. Beale, dryly; but who is this Merivale ?
1 What do you know about him, that induces yon
! to think so highly of him 'I"
r " He is a Virginian, I believe," said Helen,
r " He is a gentleman," struck in Rupert; " a
- man of education and refinement, and, withal,
t not ashamed to confess that he makes his living
; by his peucil."
, " That, certainly, is a commendable feature
- in an F. F. V.," sneered Mr. Beale; adding,
f after a pause, " Well, I have no right to con
trol you in this matter, hut do uot make many
! acquaintance*, if you value my peace of mind,
1 or yours either. And, Rupert, remember that
r time is money to the artist; so, if you ' culti,
vate' this Mr. Merivale to any great extent,
i you had better make a bargain with him. I
r have seem souie F. F. V.'s drive quite a sharp
s bargain, in my time."
, " You seem to be in a very had humor, sir,"
e said Rupert, with a frown on his brow and a
t flush on his cheek.
s His father started, and frowned full as dark.
, But he caught a glimpse of Helen's pale, en
treating face, his brow cleared np, aud he exe
tended a hand to his son, saying:
j " Nay, my son, do not be angry. When you
- are as old as I am, and have seeu so much of
3 the dark side of life, have gono through as
many fiery furnaces of pain, and shame, and
- trial, aud disappointment, and grief, you will
- know how very readily to excuse and forgive
J these outbreaks ot gloom, this rugged temper."
. " Forgive me, father/' said Rupert, grasping
. his hand with emotion; " forgive me that I
. have shown so little respect to your troubles."
s " And I shall sing a song presently lliat will
* onMo the song of that 'blithe spirit,' the skylark,"
cried Helen, her e^es full of sparkle and
glisten?twin alpha stars they, shining down
I from their blue dome, blessing all mortal lovers
who embrace and exchange vows in their se'*
rene light. There is no happiness equal to
" the bliss we derive from seeing others happy
4 whom we love, and knowing that for a portion
r at least of that happiness they are indebted to
1 us aud our influence. And this Helen !
" Ah ' if any poet knew her,
3 llr would ?ing of her with falls
j U?-(i in 'ovely madrigal*.
And if any po? t drew her,
3 He would [> .int her. unaware,
t With a IihIg around her heir.
And all heart* do' pray, God lave her!'
Aye, and crrtee, in good *?Mh,
I We may all be sure He doth
From this time there was a visible improver
ment in her father's condition, which amendment
Helen contiuually strove to forward by
every means in her power. Indeed, she was
ever with him when he was not employed, seek'*
ing to prevent his mood from regaining dominP
ion over him. He did not return to the Ou1
blieite, nor did he exclude his family from keepP
ing him company, but much of his time was
f given to regular and engrossing business, and
he had frequent visiters, all of whom, George
' remarked, sent up their cards, containing, in
addition to their names, a mystic sign, whose
a purport he could not comprehend, but which
gained them instant admission. The two who
'> came most often were a cadaverous, black-bearded
chap, with wild, hollow eyes, and a corpulent
0 priest, with erysipelatous nose and cheeks, both
^ of whom George hated with a most cordial
e hatred, because he suspected them of evil de
signs against his master. In the rarely reeur"
rinir periods of his leisure. Mr. Beale exerted
e himself to please his family. Two or three
" times he rode out in a close carriage with Helen
r and her mother. He joined often in their quiet
talk at the table, and especially seemed to
'* strive to render his wife as happy as possible,
' by little attentions and tendernesses of speech
'' and touch, sued) as she had never known be'
fore. He appeared to have an acute sense of
? the wrlwig he had done her during so long a
e time, and to endeavor thus to compensate her.
J She, poor soul, was happy as a child in its
mother's smile?passively happy, that is, for
n the days when she could exult had long since
> fled. He also strove to participate in the hape
py flow of lift that bore Rupert aud Helen
along upon its rippling bosom, taking pains to
r ask them in r4card to their sight seeing, joking
r- Helen about her glow and joy and loveliness,
I, aud in a sad conuterfeit of humor pretending
't to be jealous of this paragon ,of a Merivale,
e whose name was so constantly upon their lips,
i, Yet Helen did not permit herself to be den
ceived, nor did she relax her watebfal care over
d him. She know intiutively that this cheerfulII
ncss of tone Was but superficial, rather an anf
gury of that bttter state of things, than an evi)
deuce that the Best was already attained. She
e felt that this conduct was rather to spare them
r pain than from natural feeling ; that by hims
self he very likely gave over his efforts, while
d his jaw* sunk,? his brow clouded, and his lip
?, quivered as df old ; again came the spectres,
n and the dreams, and the moody thoughts,
e What if, in one of those fits, he should revert
I- again to that quick Key; wish again to tempt
? that dark corridor! She would never forgive
e herself, and sd she watched hint closely.
8 Not so ckw4ly, however, but that there were
^ numomnf nniuinnn when she ihnncht it Ben
missible to delegate this supervision to ber
e mother and to (ilorge, while $he herself, ac.
e companied bv her brother Rupert, and one
'* Mr. W. Denham "Merivale, wandered np and
y down, eight-seeing, in Genoa. The exercise
n was weeded by her, she said; Genoa was
' such a place of wonders, that she would never
forgive herself if she left anything unseen that
a was worthy to engage the eve ; and then, she
I' must confess she was deeply interested in a
search Mr. Mfrivale had iustitnted after a certain
rare pictdre, snpposed to be in Genoa, but
0 a sight of which had not eo far rewarded hie ind
us trio us zeal 4 We propose, in the next cbap?
ter, to accompany Miss Beale and her versatile
9* cicerone in their walks through the proud city
,l of Palaces, heir them praise its pictures, morallS
ize upon its stones, and wonder at its qnaint,
n busy, crowded life. Just now, we shall eon fine
ourselves to the remark, that one of Miss Beale's
objects seemed amply secured?namely, the results
to be expected from exercise. Fef she
> grew brighter and lovelier every day, and more
' and more exuberant in life and happiness.
i... . , .
The rich color mantled easily to her cheek ; her
voice hid grown richer, deeper, more capable
of giving expression to the whole gamut of
emotion ; her form hod spread and ripened;
her eye was grown softer, and had acquired new
and more inscrutable depths than ever; and in
entry way the pure bliss and loveliness of her
soul poured itself around, like an overflowing
honeycomb, that dripped and was fragrant with
the lucent honey of Hymettus.
Nevertheless, this lair day of regeneration,
this day when the autc-iq fe was celebrated,
and the Oubliette locked up, was not permitted
to pass without its peculiar shadow. Helen wan
standing at the wihdoW, among the oleanders,
and her mother was glancing over the pages of
a new book, wh?n he heard her exclaim, faintly,
and looking np, saw that she was very pale, and
gazed with intent eyes at some object on the
street. He hastened to her, and she pointed
with trembling finger at a shadow that was
passing slowly up along the opposite side of the
way?the shadow of a square-built, jaunty Englishman,
with light hair and florid face, who
pnt his feet down firmly, arid flourished his
cane in a most nonchalant fashion.
" It is the Hyaena 1" she murmured.
u Why do you fear that man ? " said Rupert,
impatiently ; M granting he is all you think hinj,
what has he to do with us ? "
M Oh, X do nor know?but I dread him so
much! See! What is he doing? He makes
a mark upon the wall of the house opposite?a
chalk-mark cross! What does it mean ? Thuuk
God, he is gone."
" And I will send George to rub that mark
out," said Rupert, thoughtfully; u bnt fear not,
Helen; Merivalc and I are more than matches
for all the Hyaenas in Italy."
No. II.
Life and Observations among Civilized
Fishomikc City, C. N., Jan. 11, 18G0.
To the Editor of the National Era :
There are four other tribes or nations of civilised
Indians occupying the territory south of
the Cherokees. According to the traditious
and legends of those people, these four tribes
have ever been neighbors, and closely allied to
each other.
The Choctaws, or Pafallayes, the Chickasaws,
and the Creeks, or Mascogees, chum, that at the
time of the Spanish invasion of Mexico by Hernando
Cortea, in the early part of the sixteeuth
century, their ancestors resided in the northern
portion of that country. " Wanderer," a correspondent
of Forney'* Pre**, makes mention
of this fact in a very interesting letter from the
Indian country to that paper. As far as I have
been able to gather information in relation to
the history of these three nations, I have seen
nothing to lead to a different conclusion as to
their origin, but rather much to confirm this
traditional history.
At that early date, so the tradition goes, the
Choctaws, Creeks, and Chickasaws, formed a
powerful confederacy, and enjoyed a republican
form of government. They lived a settled
life, had villages and cities, tilled the soil,
aud raised grain and vegetables, possessed immense
wealth in all kinds of property then
known, and worshipped the fire and the sun, to
which they erected temples, and offered sacrifices.
When Hernando Cortcz, the bloody conqueror,
entered Mexico with l-.is boats of fierce
Spaniards, and almost literally waded through
blood, from Vera Cruz to the city of Mexico, j
slaying thousands onhi3 triumphal march, and j
finally murdering Montezuma, the mighty abo- !
riginal King, and despoiling his capital city, !
great terror seized upon all the natives who j
heard of his cruel and bloody deeds.
This northern confederacy, which had re- j
fused to acknowledge the rule of the most j
powerful monarch America ever knew, became '
panic-stricken, and fled the country and the I
homes they loved so well, leaving most of their !
riches behind them. The direction of their
flight lay toward the northeast. After arriving
at the Gulf of Mexico, they wandered through
me country wn ten is now iexasant i.,ouisiana,
crossed the Mississippi river, and took up their
abode in the flowery savannas and shady forests
of the sunny South, where now are the
States of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South
Carolina, and Florida.
How many years elapsed from the time they
left their homes in okl Mexico, until they arrived
at their new homes, where they were
found by De Soto, is not known. But we are
informed by tradition, that during their exodus
they \pst their property and wealth, and were
greatly diminished in numbers, by hardships,
sickness, and wars. They made war upon all
tribes with whom they came in contact, either
en route, or aft>r their arrival at their new
homes, and whom they conquered, dispossessed,
and, like the ancient Romans, adopted into
their own nations.
When l>e Soto, the famous explorer, discovered
the Mississippi river at the Chickasaw
Ford, ho found the Choctaws, Creeks, Cherokees,
and Chickasaw?, to he powerful and warlike
nations, and formidable contestants to the
Spanish occupancy of the fair country. In
1340, the great battle of Manbila was fought at
the place now known as the Choctaw Bluff, in
Clarke county, Alabama. De Soto, at the head
of an army of about three thousand Spaniards,
well-armed and equipped, and experienced warriors,
marched against the powerful Indian army
composed of Choctaws, Creeks, Cherokees,
and Chickasaw8, whose numbers were unknown,
but supposed to be fifteen or twenty thousand
It was at first, De Soto's intention to hold a
festival on the large plot of greensward in
front of the town, have a talk with the chief
men, and with presents of gaudy tinsels and
false promises cheat them out of their lands.
Tuscaloosa, the head chief of the allied powers,
had previously been captured by strgtegem,
and held a prisoner. But on this occasion,
for the purpose of making a favorable impression;
and showing their magnanimity, he was
safely delivered over to his people, having first
promised to exert bis influence in the Couucil to
induce favorable concessions to be made in be
balf or the Spanish invaders. The festival and j
scenes of merry-making then commenced. The j
Spaniards, with great pomp, exhibited their gorgeous
splendors and pagantry. The Indians also
produced their peculiar entertainments. Hundreds
of tender and beautiful maidens, with
long waving hair dishevelled and falling over
their shoulders, and attired in ail the finery
that savage taste could devise, came and
danced, and sang, and played, before the chivalric
and gallant Spaniards.
But the promises of the great Tuscaloosa
proved to be only a cunning ruse of his invention,
to obtain nis liberty. And, as soon as
released, he commenced preparing his warriors,
and making arrangements to pounce upon the
haughty invaders. Soon, spies and scouts,
whom De Soto had taken the precaution to
have out scouring the adjacent country, came
in with the ominous intelligence that the old
men, women, and babes, were heiDg removed
to a dense forest behind the bluff, and severaL
miles in the rear of their town. The spies had
scarcely done speaking, when the terrible warcry
of the fierce savages rang upon the welkin
with a startling add awe-inspiring effect. The
Spaniard^ flew ta their arms, and prepared to
defend themselves against the assault, leaving
most of their horses tied and tethered in the
adjacent groves, At first they were repulsed,
and driven from the field; but they soon rallied,
mounted their well-trained war-steeds,
and charged upon the foe. The charge was a
terrible one. Living and dead were trampled
beneath the iron-shod feet of the horses. In/
y ? 1 i
dian breasts were pierced with Spanish lances,
and Indian skulls were cloven on the right and
ou the left by Spanish sabres.
The Indians, although vastly outnumbering
their pale-faced assailants, could not stand before
such superior weapons, wielded by skillful
hands; and were obliged 10 retreat within the
walls of their fortified town, from the ramparts
of which they renewed the contest, pelting their
assailants with stones and other missiles until
they were compelled to retreat again.
I)e Soto and hiB army retired a short distance,
to rest and form new plans of attack,
whereby tbey could make their victory more
complete. While thus engaged, the notes of
fresh bugles were heard with joy, and he was
soon reinforced with near a thousand men,
eager to slain their blades in blood.
It was resolved to storm the town. Then
commenced the "tug of war." Both sides
fought bravely and desperately. Four times
th? Spaniards were driven back, but finally
forced an entrance. As they poured into the
enclosure, they were met by new and unlookedfor
foes. Those fascinating singing maidens,
who had appeared before them in tho morning,
now sprang upon them with all the ferocity of
maddened tigers. But their tender youth,
their beauty, nor their sex, saved them from
the terrible rage of the Spaniards. Streams
of blood gushed from the jnarced bosoms of
maidens ; heavy sabres ana battle-axes caalt*
down with an awful crash upon the heads and
shoulders of young women. The spirit of
chivalry and the pride of gallantry were entirely
forgotten by the fierce and bloodthirsty
followers of the proud De Soto, and deeds of
blood and horror continued to be perpetrated
as long as the light of day lasted.
The shades of night at last hovered over the
tragic scene, but the work of slaughter did not
cease. The torch was applied to the houses,
and lurid ilames ascended high, as the Indian's
god revelled in bis power; and by the light
thereof the demoniac butchery continued, as
long as a poor victim could be found. On that
memorable day and night, over six thousand
T ndtun OAiild nnnnftn(/ nil a*\A *?/\r?tww
?wvava ;wu
and female, maidens and babes, were sent on
their journey to the spirit land. The loss of
De Soto's forces-in the slain did not exceed
oue hundred j while nearly all were wounded
by arrows, or missiles thrown by hand ?at
that time the onl) weapons of Indian warfare.
Since the great battle at Maubilia, the
Creeks, Choctaws, and Chickasaws, have been
under the Spanish, French, English, and finally
under our own dominion. From all of their
conquerors they have learned lessons of treachery,
bad faith, falsehood, and vice.
About the year 1831, our Govern uient effected
satisfactory treaties with the Choctaws and
Chiekasaws, and these two nations willingly
exchanged lauds, and quietly emigrated to
their new country in the territory west of Arkansas,
where they now reside, and have made
such rapid strides in improvement. Government
paid the expenses of the removal, and
furnished them with food for the first year.
The Choctaws and Chickasawa formerly resided
in Alabama and Mississippi, where the
institution of African slavery was first taught
them. And ever since then, the Federal Government
has, through its agents and superintendents,
sought to foster and encourage slavery
among the civilized Indians, in order to
ultimately secure their territory to the area of
slave soil. If the different Administrations
have not always had this darling object in
view, the slave power " behind the throne"
has ; and its commands have ever been obeyed.
Gjct Oaki.bak.
For tbe National Era. ?
Lady Nina stands at the parlor window, her
blonde curls playing amid the caraelias and
azalias, and her Jewelled arm auj.poiting the
fairest of little oval-faces and the most coquettish
little mouth that ever pouted in the twilight
shade. The embroidered toe of the little kid
"slipper is patting nervously and pettishly on the
velvet carpet, revealing a strange commotion
in the tiny understanding.
Alas! how few can saylife is worth what it
costs. Why is Lady Nina sad? Beautiful
muse, how trail and tender, and how young, to
meet life's conflicts, to brave life's battles.
Nina's mamma had but just laid out Nina's
first campaign in society, when Nina's grandpapa,
like auy other simple old man of seventy,
who never knows what's the right time to go
off, must needs die, and so Nina must wear
mourning for the space of six weeks ; and
while all lier dear five thousand particular
friends were enjoying the first rush of the season,
dear stricken Nina was laid away in the
chrysalis state under the black veil, whose only
consolation was, that it rendered her beauty
still more effulgent by the exquisite shade upon
her ivory complexion. How celestial the effect
of those long silken eyelashes in their downcast
holiness, and the subdued smile, with its touching
suspicion of grief, so becomingly subdued,
and in such perfect harmony with the thule
halo all around the little oval face. How gracefully
she bowed her head beneath this heavy
dispensation, and how beautiful her resignation
of the pink cr&pe and opAl silk?ahe needed
but the fetters, to stand for the Greek 8iave.
But the days of mourning for grandpapa arc
accomplished, and it is the ?ve of Nina's first
grand assemble. Say, Lady Nina, what new
twilight phantom has crossed the threshold of
thy peace?
u These odious country relations ; when will
they ever learn modesty ? Nervous and feeble 1
What business have country folks with nerves ?
Horrid old Choctaw. I wish the law would fix
their boundaries with their fellow-savages, the
red men, beyond the Kocky Mountains, and
keep them in their fastnesses under its penalty.
I wonder if she will pin her cap strings over
head at supper, and bring master Jakey, in his
blue coat and buttons ; it will kill me. When
will trouble end with papa's relations ?" and
the little foot fluttered like a dying bird, as Nina
energetically built up her hobgoblin, and became
her own tormentor.
Alas! poor Cowslip, it is thy destiny to choose
fVo mnal inaiianioiAiifl <1ura nl' tliA tkrAA
",V- ? ? ? ?J" V. UU..Mid
and sixty-five for thy visitation. How thankfully
wouldst thou take the return train, and be
once more with thy children on that ill-starred
night; but self respect bids thee hold up thy
drooping bead, and see the trial through ; and
one thought of thy noble husband says to the
conflict within, " Peace, be still; for his sake I
will endure." Then Nina's mamma, with admirable
forecast, sees that it would be very expensive
to take the children to Saratoga next
summer, and, rather than forego their welcome
to the old farm, likewise cries, " Peace, be still,"
to her revolting pride, and protests that cousin
Hetty has come in the nick of time. Nina's
party will make such a pleasant variety in her
visit, and she will entertain the children vastly
I with what she saw and heard?in fact, it is just
| what Stephen bad said in his letter she most
needed, ' waking up to new thoughts."
Poor Cowslip, she had felt dreadful misgivings
in her mind at the thought of the plain,
little, best drees, with its inferior country store
trimmings, and antiquated air, ga she regarded
the flowing elegance of her relations, and their
devotion to fashion , but oitv palaver quite reassured
bur, and her tender conscience reproached
itself for having suspected them of
coldness or meanness. With willing bands and
cheerful heart she now assists her cousin in all
the nameless last things which fall to the care
.of a Western housekeeper even in onr large
cities; and all unconscious of the gangrene at
their hearts, she rejoices that she is with them
in their mqny perplexities of preparation which
she is so adequate to meet.
The gas is lit, and the stately parlors await
in solemn silence the expected crowd. Nina,
in the oik banting realization of the pink crfepe, C
float* lik^a summer clou J before the brilliant d
pier glass, ami that friend to fairness sends
back a full triumph to her inquiring gaze. v
AnoLiiqr hour, and the tide of life pours in. U
Moustachiod chattering, deafening music,
hoarse yqiced men, low voiced mammas, {jig- w
gling girls, simpering widows, and jabbering U
old mmd.'., all mingled in the universal hubbub, o
What a t*le of life it is?the blonde, the satis, n
the jeVreFJ, that cover over those wearj hearts, tl
Why ueed there ever h* masked bails ? Is not U
society itfelf a mask ? How manv young ladies u
will go home from Nina's ball, wno are not dis- h
guated with the mask, and disgusted with the d
beggarly elements of their own hearts! and like ci
Cinderella ait down in the dusky chimney cor- p<
ners of their own discontent, end the hateful
rags of self-abasement.
Apart from all this din and strife, sits our
little dove-colored Cowslip, unnoticed and unknown,
overwhelmed amid surging crinoline, .
half overturned now and then by the bumping
waltsers, -pinched and jammed on all sides, C
weary with silent watching of the naolby pambv
flirtation, and dizzy with the whirling and twirl- J
ing of the danoe ; sick at heart with the supercilious
dandyism which stands on her toes and o
offers tio apology, she at last turns her face to d
the wall U-conceal the thick falling tears. There u
is a great black picture of Samson Agonistee U
no the rQUf which servos for a theme of ab- ti
sorptiou; -and while her simple heart is relieving u
itself iu this poor luxury, she hears some one ti
whisper, * This little oddity seems immensely af- d
fected by Samson's bald head." She had hoped U
no oae no ticed her, and now what could she do. tl
There waf no chance of escape with her swollen r
eyes ; she could not face her tormentor, and the il
sense of dyeing ridiculous was rending her very ti
soul with,*biUorness. u
Sweet primrose dignity, Heaven help thee; t
the gulf hetwixt Dives and Lazarus was not u
broader rnd deeper than that between thee aud i
coxcomb impudence; thy timid eyes dream not p
of apologf. Does the prostrate chick-weed, torn ii
up by tlu root from the pot of the lordly came- c
lia, demand courtesy of the gardener's knife? v
One is b<rn for the rich mans parlor, and the ?
other for ;he shady lane of life ; aud it is a cruel i
infatuatiigi to imagine that they can syuipa- c
tbize. (ital himself hath decreed the boundary t
line betaken the lilies of the valley and purple
and fine pnen. e
Supper is announced; the great buzz moves u
along fcbn brilliant passage, and down the curved I
stair-wb\ , its crescendos and diminuendos filling v
the whon. house with its tumult. Presently the r
bull-room is deserted by all but the little dove- t
colored figure, who seems riveted to the spot i
where she has stood for the last hour. Fly, Cow- ?i
slip ; set * thv own chamber, forgotten one, aud t
there iu darkness and silence woep thy lonely v
tears, recall the days of patient forbearance t
with th<s* noisy school-children, let loose on s
thy peaceful home during the heat and toil of t
harvest; calm thyself with the recollection 1
of the c jicken-pies and choicest fruit served i
up uu viic ^iauu utuaaiun* wucu purpic miu
fiue linen bath vouchsafed a passing visit ou
the way to fashionable resort; think of the
w&6ted diys of dressing dollies for little homesick
Nina, beneath those dear old sheltering
oaks. Sveet thoughts, are they not ? Press thy
cold finy ?rs to thy hot eye-balls, force back the
sickeninp vision of ingratitude. Presently, ministering
ingels faa thy throbbing temples into
quiet, wi h gentle dreams of the husband arm
once more around thee, and the weary heart is
at rest. Next
norning, at breakfast, they say to Cowslip,
" Why, cousin Hetty, what ou earth became
oftyou at supper-time ; we lost sight of
you euliiely ; there are always so many unreasonable
people to look after in society, people
who are never satisfied without especial attention.
Jt is a great bore. We hoped you would
make yoirself at home. Did you pass a pleasant
evening'( " Poor Cowslip cannot trust her
self to raise her eyes, but replies - |s her
saucer, that she bad retired early, at late
hours dj> not suit couutry people." "You
were quite excusable. We thought you would
feel at-liberty to do just as you were
disposed*' Keep back that swelling sob;
don't gej up a scene : there is nothing more
ungenterl; swallow thy scalding coti'ee ; the
struggle will soon be over ; another sunset will
find the^ in thy own sweet pastures, never,
never ta be torn awav, until called to miugle
with the grave yard dust. One visit to town
will last*tbee the rest of thy life.
NctbPiive Qualities or Sugar.?As by
salts an<j acids, so by sugar and honey, is the
quantity of the digestive juices increased, and
the digestion promoted. And the sugar, while
being di jested, enriches the gastric juice with
a substa-ice which assists in dissolving the aliments
; lor the augar, on coming in contact
with the saliva, has been partly transformed
into lacUc acid, which acts upon the alimentary
principles in the same manner as does the hydrochloric
acid of the gastric juice. For this
reason, sugar at once appears infinitely better
than its reputation. But, even to the present
time, the popular belief that sngar injures the
teeth is as widely spread as, 011 the oounter
testimony of both experience and science, the
opposite doctrine ougnt to be. The teeth of the
negroes of the West Indies?a community remarkable
for the abundance of sugar consumed
smAni* tknm wma /tf a
iUVIU B1V U1 M UII^Ul nUIIVi A uivjo |y u? t.c
of lime is the chief conslitaeat of the bones and 1
teeth, but not before adult age ; and an increase 1
of the phosphate of litne is the essential char- 1
actcristic 'of the development of the bones of 1
children. Lactic acid dissolves the phosphate '
of lime of the food; and, as sugar indirectly 1
supports this solution, it facilitates the convey- <
ante of lime to the teeth. To this it may he 1
objected, that sugar causes pain in the hollow '
tooth ; but, like sugar, a thousand other sub- 1
stances irritate the nerves. Sugar is not dan- <
gerous to the teeth, but, on the contrary, assists 1
in providing them with lime; it is also useful '
to the stomach, if it docs not, by being taken '
in excess, produce too great a quantity of lactic '
acid. '
A First Interview with Goethe.?"He is i
of middle statqre, holds himself stiffly, and t
walks in the same manner; the expression of :
his countenance is reservea, but his eye is full 1
of thought and animation, and I watch bis i
looks with pleasure. His voice is peculiarly t
agreeable, aud his mode of talking fluent, in ?
tellectual, and lively. On the whole, the lofty t
idea I bad formed of him has not been low- i
ered by personal acquaintance; but I doubt
whether we shall ever cordially approximate." t
In another place, contrasting his lot with that <
of his formidable competitor, he says: "This 1
man, this Qoethe, stands in my path, constant- c
)y reminding me that fate has dealt hardly with |
me. How joyously his destiny sustained his s
genius; and how have I been forced to strive and
struggle even to this hour."?Life of Schiller, i
Dr. Warrkx a*d Locrs Napoleov.?In the c
year 1837, the late Dr. John C. Warren made a i
voyage to Europe, and among his fellow-pas- c
sengers in the ship, he mentions Lonis Napo- i
leon, the present Emperor of the French. In 1
i.;? n. w- ?i? J
scribes him:
"With Napoleon I conversed in French,
thongh he spoke English very well.
"This was after his first attempt to excite a
revolution in France, from which he had come
to America, and was theaoe returning to his
mother, who wu quite ill at Geneva. He conversed
very pleasantly on any subject proposed.
He was well versed m clasical literature, and
fond of it; quite a proficient in mathematics,
and showed me a thick octavo volume he had
composed on the science of artillery and engineering.
He was versed in the small accomplishments
which make a part of French
education?comic acting, tricks at cards, 4c.,
some of which were very remarkable. All these
things he did with imperturbable gravity?never
laughing as if he enjoyed them, hot did them
for the amusement of others. He never talked
politics. We always used the title of Prince,
and gave him a place next to the Captain. He
made himself very agreeable to the ladies, and
gave them small presents occasionally. He
landed at Liverpool with as, made his way to
leneva, and reached his mother two or three
ays beiore she expired."?Vol. 1, p. 282.
Thirteen years after, during a subsequent
isit to Europe, Dr. Warren saw Louis Naposon
under other circumstances. He says :
" I weut to the President's fete at St. Cloud;
as introduced to the President by our Minis;r,
and hnd some conversation with him about
ur voyage to Europe iu 1837, which he reauiiy
^collected. There were present about two
lousaud persons, of all nations; very beautiful
idies?a vast number of officers in brilliant *
niforms. The day was very fine, and about a
undred fountains playiug. The President waa
ressed in a plain black suit, with white waistoat
and brown colored scarf. He did not apear
to feel at ease."?Vol. II, pp. 66?67.
We find in the Lagrange (Ind.) Standard
ie following letter from the Hon. Charles
ase, M. C.:
Washington, D. C., Dwembcr 31, 1859.
festrt. Morrow dc Dcvor:
The kind favor of your Mr. Morrow has been
n my table some days. An answer has been
elayed, because, on one or two topics referred
> in his letter, I desired to write at some
ingth, and it is not often that I can take the v
mu to get up long letters. But this last day
b year 01 grace qou^ me coin para.rely
?t my mm, for tbe lloune does not sit toay,
aud I have leisure to bore you with an extnded
epistle. Moreover, the last a tie moon of
he waning year is a tit occasion for a partial
eview of some of the signs of the times. As
ls gloaming hours creep on and enshroud naure
with darkness, it will be but in keeping
rilh the solemn glooiu of the fleeting momenta
a look out on the political sky, and scrutinize
ot so closely its clear space and its stars, as
he clouds that thre&teu to involve all in 1m- I
euetrable night. Such clouds exist; and peraps
tbe one which more than all others gives
ause for anxiety, is the disunion sentiment, so
rurmly denounced by my friend Morrow, but
rhich is unblushingly proclaimed as the favorle
idea of muuy a Democrat, and which, we
uust believe, is rapiuly growing in favor in all
he Democratic slaveholding States.
True, the threat of disunion has thr.? ihr genirally
been conditional. Few have &s yet boldly *
advocated it us best under alt circumstances,
tut the coudiiiou attached only adds to the
ricked ness of the threat. It is proposed as a
einedy for political defeat ? as a means of
hwarliug the will of a majority; and that, too,
n a Government based on the axiom that the
uajority must rule ! There ore not wanting
hose who say it should be resorted to to preent
even a partial and temporary success of
he Republicans. For example : Senator lver- j
ou, of Georgia, says it should follow the elecion
of Sherman to the Speakership of the
louse. 1 give his language, as it may be found
n the othcial report, (Congressional Globe,
>. 30:)
h Sir." says the Senator, M I will tell you what
would do, if I had control of the Southern
nembers of this House nod the other, when you
;lect John-Sherman, as I suppose you will, be:ause
I take it for granted that you will And
raitors enough in the rauks of the Northern
Democracy to elect him ; you have not got the
>ower in your own ranks, but 1 reckon you will
ake a few of the Anti-Lccompton Northern
Democrats finally to do it. If 1 had control of
he public sentiment, the very moment that you
sleet John Sherman, thus giving to the South
he example of iusult as well as injury, 1 would
valk every one of us out of the halls of this
Capitol, aud cousult our constituents; and I
vould never enter again until 1 was bode to do
>o by those who had the right to control me.
Sir, 1 go further than that. 1 would counsel
ny constituents instantly to dissolve all politi>al
ties with a party and people who thus tram
)le on our right*. That is what I would do !
Quite in Kiruiony with this outburst of the
Deorgia Senator is the language of Mr. Rust,
>f Arkansas, to be found in n speech by him
lelivered in the House on Wednesday last, and
Torn which, as it was pablished in the Daily
Globe, 1 clip the following:
" Mr. Clerk, in the preseut state of the public
iiiud at the ?outh, irritated and exasperated
ilmost to phreusy by receut and still occurring
>utrages, can the people of that section regard
he election of Mr. Sherman, with his hostile
lentimeuts, his offensive associations and antecedents,
to preside over the deliberations of this
douse, as less than the last drop in the cup al
eady lull ot' wrong, and insult, and outrage,
which they have suffered at the hands of the
dlack Republican party of this country ? "
It is but justice to Mr. Rust to add, tbr.'v m
mother part of his speech he intimated that
Arkansas would follow, rather than ondertAkj
o lead, Southern sentiment on t^e question of
'I here are those who repudiate the ordinary
louditiou, and go for immediate separation. |
llr. Singleton, of Mississippi, in his speech of
,he lyth instant, said :
M it may be asked, when will the time come
when we shall separate from the North? I say
candidly, if the views expressed by the gentlenan
from Iowa are, as he says, common to the
Republican party, and if they are determined
o enforce those views, I declare myself ready
o day. I would not aik to delay the time a
tingle hour. I atu willing to unite with the
jeople of the South for this purpose, at any
irue. I speak the words of truth and soberless
when 1 say, that I believe a majority of my
:onstituents are prepared to take that step. In
he last canvass, 1 occupied the same ground I
>ccupy to-day. An independent Democrat ran
igaiust me, and attempted to put me down
ipon my ultra Southern views; and yet, in a j
listrict of fourteen thousand votes, 1 was electjd
by five thousand five hundred and sixty-four
Majority. Rut not ouly my district, but I beieve
every district iu my State, is prepared to
ake ground in favor of a dissolution o*f the
Union, when you tell them that such are your ft
icntiments and purposes. But it is not proba- .7
>le that we will do it to-day or to morrow. You
isk me when will the t me rnino??lion ?III
he South be united ? It will be when y^n elect
t Black Republican?Hale, Seward .>r Chase?
President of the U uited States. Whenever you
ludcrtake to place such a mat. to preside over
he destinies of the South, you may expect to
tee us undivided and indivisible friends, aud to
tee all parties of the South arrayed to resist his
Thus it appears that while Mr. Singleton
loea not expect it to be done uutil a Republi- 1
;an President is elected, and only to prevent
lis inauguration, he is ready now, as are many
>f his constituents, for disunion. In another
>art cf his remarks, as published in the Globe,
peaking the sentimeut of the South, ho says :
"Their determination is fixed aud unalterable,
that they will have an expansion of glare,
errilury in this Union, if you will allow it, or
>ultide of the Union, if they must. [Applause
11 the galleries.] With me, the excuecnent
ipon this subject has passed away in a great
neosure. The paroxysm is over, and the deirium
of fever following the first agitation of
his subject has subsided. Upon the supposiion
that the gentleman from Iowa speaks the
lentiments of the Black Republican party, and
hat their purpose is fixed to exclude us forever
rom the Territories, aud to confine us to our
)resent limits, and that the fugitive slave law is
o be repealed, or.so altered as to render it intficieut,
if you desire to kuow my counsel to
be people of Mississippi, it is, that they take
ueasures immediately, in conjunction with
ither Southern States, to separate from you. I
telieve that the sooner we get out of this conederation
of States, the better it will be for us,
a every day we remain with you, under such
ircumstances, but weakens and impairs our
trensrth, and renders ua less able to cope with
To the same effect, only with more directtess,
speaks Mr. Crawford, of Ga. I quote,
rom the edition of his speech published tor
listribution, the closing paragraph :
u Now, I speak for myself, and not for the
lelegation. We have endeavored for forty
rears to settle this question between the North
tnd the South, and hud it impossible. I there

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