BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library PS 1S29.C7 1870 Condensed novels and other papers. 3 1924 021 970 029 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 924021 970029 COIDEISED lOYELS. Mtrck-A-MucK, the haughty, untaught, untrammeled son of the forest. - (After CooPEB. , See page 13. CONDENSED NOYELS. OTHER PAPERS. BX F. BEET HAETE. yms como jjuLxtsiatxiasB by ebanx beuuew. M^ NEW YORK: Carleion, Publisher, Madison Square. LONDON : S. LOW, SON & CO. M DCCC LXX. Entered, according to Act of CJongresB, in tbe f ear 1867, by G. W. CABLETON & CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the T7mted States for the Southern District of New Xork. THE MEMORY OP THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCBIBES PEEFACE. The Biyle and finish of the follo'wing sketches may make it suf- ficiently obvious to the reader, -without farther statement, that ihey are ^nitten -vdth no higher ambition than that of filling the ephemeral pages of a -weekly paper. But their publication in that form, has been the means of giving them a popularity which theix author trusts justifies him in reproducing them in a collected and more permanent shape. The " Condensed Novels," to which this mor^ particularly refers, claim no other originality in their general conception, than that shown by their title — a humorous condensaiion of the salient characteristics of certain vreiters, select- ed without reference to their standing or prominence inliteiature. In one or two instances the parody has been based upon some indi- vidual vrork — but in most cases the author has endeavored to show the general idiosyncrasies of each author. For the other sketches, though comprising the greater part of the volume, their introduction here must rest solely upon the as- sumed popularity of the ' ' Condensed Novels. " They were selected from -writings, scattered through the California press during a period of five or six years. Though based upon local scenery and local subjects, no one is better aware than their author, of their deficiency in local coloring, a deficiency which he nevertheless believes is made up by such general interest and abstract fidelity, as may make them apphcable to any locality. Sis TaixoiBao, JUly, 1867. CONTENTS. I.-CONDENSED NOYELS. FAQE MuCKAHnCE. An Indian Novel, after Cooper •• 16 Terence Deuyille. By Oh— Is Lo— r. 21 Selisa Sbdilia. By Miss B— dd— n and Mrs. H— y W— d 29 Ninety-Nine Goabdsmeii. By A1— x— ndr D— m-^s 40 !fHE DwBLLBB OP THE Threshold. BySir Ed— dL. B— Iw-r 49 TBi! Haunted Mam. By Ci— 1— s D— k— ns 66 Miss Mix. By Cli— 1— tte Br— nte 67 Gut Heattstone. By Author of Sword and Gun 80 Mr. Midshipman Breezy. By Capt. M— ry— t 90 John Jenkins. By T. S. A— rtli— r 101 NoTiTLE. By W— Ik— e C— U- ns 108 N. A French Paragraphic NoveL 119 'Fantine. 4/eer the French of Victor Hugo 125 LaFemme. 4^1!e»- the French of M. Mlohelet 182 Mary Mo Gn-LDP, a Southern Novel 138 II-CIVIC SKETCHES. A Venerabie Impostor 151 From A Balcony 150 Melons 1«3 SDRPKISINQ AdTENTUBES OP MB. OHAS. SUMMEBTON 1T3 X. OONTENT& PAGE SiDEWALKINGS 179 A Boy's DOG 187 CHAKITABIJ: BEMINISCENCES 194 Seeing the Steamer Off 200 NEIGHBOBHOODSIHAJE MOVED FBOM 208 Ut Subcbban Residence 219 A ViJLGAB Little BOT 227 WAITIKG FOB THE SHIP 230 III.-LEGENDS AND TALES. The Legend OF Monte DEL Diablo 23T ADTENTUBES OF FADBE YlNCENTIO 267 The Legend of Detil's Point 267 The Detil AND THE Bboeeb. 273 The Ogbess OF Silteb Land 284 BDINS OF SA}I Fbakcisco 293 Night AT WiNQDAM ; 296 MUCK-A-MUCK. ^ Itfflr^rn InHan 'gainL AFTER COOPEE. OHAPTEK 1 ' It was toward tlie close of a Lright October day, Tlie last rays of tlie setting sun were reflected from one of tliose sylvan lakes peculiar to the Sierras of California. On the right the curling smoke of an Indian village rose between the columns of the lofty pines, while to the left the log cottage of Judge Tompkins, embowered in buckeyes, completed the en- chanting picture. Although the exterior of the cottage was humble "] and unpretentious, and in keeping with the wildness of the landscape, its interior gave evidence of the cultivation and refinement of its inmates. An aqua- rium, containing goldfishes, stood on a marble cen- tre table at one end of the apartment, while a magnificent grand piano occupied the other. The 12 MUCK-A-MUCK. floor was covered witli a yielding tapestry carpet, and the walls were adorned witli paintings from the pencils of Yan Dyke, Rubens, Tintoretto, Michael Angelo, and the productions of the more modem Turner, Kensett, Church and Bierstadt. Although Judge Tompkins had chosen the frontiers of civiliz- ation as his home, it was impossible for him to entirely forego the habits and tastes of his former life. He was seated in a luxurious arm-chair, writ- ing at a mahogany Scriteire, while his daughter, a lovely young girl of seventeen summers, plied her crochet needle on an ottoman beside him. A bright fire of pine logs flickered and flamed on the ample heartL Genevra Octavia Tompkins was Judge Tompkins's only child. Her mother had long since died on the Plains. Eeared in affluence, no pains had been spared with the daughter's education. She was a graduate of one of the principal seminaries, and spoke French with a perfect Benicia accent Peer- lessly beautiful, she was dressed in a white moire antique robe trimmed with tulk. That simple rosebud, with which most heroines excllisively decorate their hair, was all she wore in her raven locks. The Judge was the first to break the silence : "Genevra, the logs which compose yonder fire seem to have been incautiously chosen. The sibil- ation produced by the sap, which exudes copiously therefrom, is not conducive to composition." " True, father, but I thought it would be prefera- able to the constant crepitation which is apt to at- MUCK-A-MUCK. 13 tend the combustion of more seasoned ligneous fragments. The Judge looked admiriaglj at the intellectual features of the graceful girl, and half fiorgot the slight annoyances of the. green wood in the musical accents of his daughter. He was smoothing her hair tenderly, when the shadow of a tall figure, which suddenly darkened the doorway, caused him to look.up. CHAPTEEIL It needed but a glance at the new comer to detect at once the form and features of the haughty aborig- ine — ^the untaught and untrammeled son of the for- est Over one shoulder a blanket, negligently but gracefully thrown, disclosed a bare and jJbwerfiil breast, decorated with a quantity of three cent post- age stamps which he had despoiled from an Overland. Mail stage a 'few weeks previous. A cast-off beaver of Judge Tompkins's, adorned by a simple feather,! covered his erect head, from beneath which his straight locks descended. His right hand hung lightly by his side, while his left was engaged in holding on a pair of pantaloons, which the lawless grace and freedom of his lower limbs evidently could not brook. "Why," said the Indian, in a low sweet tone, "why does the Pale Face still follow the track of the Eed Man ? Why does he pursue him, even as, 14 MUOK-A-MUCK. 0-hee-chow, tlie wild-cat, chases Xa-ka, the 'skunk ? Why are the feet of Sorrel-top, the white chief, among the acorns of Muck-a-Muck, the mountain forest? Why," he .repeated, quietly but firmly, abstracting a silver spoon fi:om the table, " why do you seek to drive him fi-om the wigwams of his fathers? His brothers are already gone to the happy hunting grounds. Will the Pale Face seek him there?" And, averting his face from the Judge, he .hastily slipped a silver cake-basket beneath his blanket, to conceal his emotion. "Muck-a-Muck has spoken," said Genevra softly. " Let him now listen. Are the acorns of the moun- tain sweeter than the esculent and nutritious bean of the Pale Face miner ? Does my brother prize the edible qualities of the snail above that of the crisp and oleaginous bacon ? Delicious are the grasshop- pers thtt sport on the hillside — are they better than the dried apples of the Pale Faces ? Pleasant is the gur- gle of the torrent, Kish-Kish, but is it better than the cluck-cluck of old Bourbon from the old stone bot- tle?" "Ughl" said the Indian, "Ugh! good. The White Eabbit is wise. Her words fall as the snow on Tootoonolo, and the rocky heart of Muck-a-Muck is hidden. What says my brother the Gray Gopher of Dutch Flat?' " She has spoken, Muck-a-Muck," said the Judge, gazing fondly on his daughter. It is well. Our treaty is concluded. No, thank you — ^you need not dance the Dance of Snow Shoes, or the Moccasin MUOK-A-MTJOK. 15 Dance, tlie Dance of Green Com, or the Treaty Dance. I would be alone. A strange sadness overpowers me." '^I go," said tlie Indian. " Tell your great chief in "Wasliington, tlie Sachem Andy, that the Eed Man is retiring before the footsteps of the adTcnturous Pioneer. Inform him, if you please, that westward the star of empire takes its way, that the chiefs of the Pi-Ute nation are for Eeconstruction to a man, and that Klamath will poll a heavy EepubUcan vote in the falL And folding his blanket more tightly around him, Muck-a Muck withdrew. CHAPTEEm. Genevba Tompkins stood at the door of the log cabin, looking after the retreating Overland Mail stage which conveyed her father to Virginia City. " He may never return again," sighed the young girl as she glanced at the frightfully rolling vehicle and wildy careering horses — "at least, with unbroken bones. Should he meet with an accident ! I mind me now a fearful legend, familiar to my childhood. Can it be that the drivers on this line are privately (instructed to dispatch all passengers maimed 'by ac- cident, to prevent tedious litigation ? No, no. But why this weight upon my heart ?" She seated herself at the piano and lightly passed 16 MUCK-A-MUOK. her hand over the keys. Then, in a clear mezzo- soprano voice, she sang the first verse of one of the most popular Irish ballads : " O Arrah, ma dheelish, the diBtantdudheen Lies soft in the moonlight, ma bouchal voumeen : The springing gossoons on the heather ore still And the cavbeens and coUeens are heard on the hills." But as the ravishing notes of her sweet voice died upon the air, her hands sank listlessly to her side. Music could not chase away the mysterious shadow from her heart Again she rose. Putting on a white crape bonnet, and carefully drawing a pair of lemon-colored gloves over her taper fingers, she seized her parasol and plunged into the depths of the pine forest CHAPTER IV. Gbnevra had not proceeded many miles before a weariness seized upon her fi:agile limbs, and she would fain seat herself upon the trunk of a prostrate pine, which she> previously dusted with her handker- chief. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, and the scene was one of gorgeous and sylvan beau- ty. " How beautifal is Nature," murmured the in- nocent girl, as, reclining gracefully against the root of the tree, she gathered up her skirts and tied the handkerchief around her throat. But a low growl interrupted her meditation. Starting to her feet, MUCK-A-MUOK. 17 her eyes met a sight which froze her blood with terror. The only outlet to the forest was the narrow path, barely wide enough for a single person, hemmed in by trees and rocks, which she had just traversed. Down this path, in Indian file, came a monstrous grizzly, closely followed by a California lion, a wild cat, and a buffalo, the rear being brought up by a wild Spanish bull. The mouths of the three first animals were distended with frightful significance ; the horns of the last were Ibwered as ominously. As Genevra was preparing to faint, she hear^ a low voice behind her. " Eternally dog-gone my sMn ef this ain't the put- tiest chance yet" At the same moment, a long, shining barrel dropped lightly from behind her, and rested over her shoulder. Grenevra shuddered . " Dem ye — don't move !" Genevra became motionless. The crack of a rifle rang through the woods. Three frightful, yells were heard, and two sullen roars. Five animals bounded into the air and five lifeless bodies lay upon the plain. The well-aimed bullet had done itM work. Entering the open throat of the grizzly, it had traversed his body, ojolj to en- ter the throat of the California lion, and in like man- ner the catamount, until it passed through into the respective foreheads of the bull and the buffalo, and finally fell flattened from the rocky hillside. 18 MUCK-A-MUCK. Genevra turned qiiicMy. " My preserver I" slie shrieked, and fell into the arms of Natty Bumpo — the celebrated Pike Eanger of Donner Lake. OHAPTEB V. The moon rose cheerfully above Donner Lake. On its placid bosom a dug-out canoe glided rapidly, containing Natty Bumpo and Genevra Tompkins. Both were silent The same thought possessed each, and perhaps there was sweet companionship even in the unbroken quiet Genevra bit the han- dle of her parasol and blushed. Natty Bumpo took a fresh chew of tobacco. At length Genevra said, as if in half-spoken reverie : "The soft shining of the moon and the peaceful ripple of the waves, seem to say to us various things of an instructive and moral tendency." " You may bet yer pile on that, Miss," said her companion gravely. "It's all the preachin' and psalm-singin' I've heem since I was a boy." "Noble being I" said Miss Tompkins to herself, glancing at the stately Pike as he bent over his pad- dle to conceal his emotion. " Reared in this wild seclusion, yet he has become penetrated with visible consciousness of a Gre^t First Cause." Then, col- lecting herself she said aloud : " Methinks 'twere pleasant to glide ever thus down the stream of life, hand in hand with the one being whom the soul Genbvra Tompkins and Katty Bumpo gliding down tlie stream of life in sweet companionship,— After Coopek.) See page 18. MUOK-A-MUOK. 19 claims as its affinity. But wliat am I saying ?" — and the delicate-minded girl hid her face in her hands. A long silence ensued, which was at length bro- ken by her companion. "Ef you mean you're on the marry," he said, thoughtfully, I ain't in no wise partikler I" " My husband," faltered the blushing girl ; and she fell into his arms. In ten minutes more the loving couple had land- ed at Judge TompMns'a CHAPTER VL A TEAR has passed away. Natty Bumpo was re- turning from Gold Hill, where he had been to pur- chase provisions. On his way to Donner Lake, ru- mors of an Indian uprising met iiis ears. " Dem their pesky skins, ef they dare to touch my Jenny," Ke muttered between his clenched teeth. It was dark when he reached the borders of the lake.. Around a glittering fire he dimly discerned dusky figures dancing. They were in war paint Conspicuous among them was the^ renowned Muck- a-Muck. Bat why did the fingers of Natty Bumpo . tighten convulsively around his rifle ? The chief held in his hand long tufbs of raven hair. The heart of the pioneer sickened as he recog- nized the clustering curls of Gfenevra. In a moment his rifle was at his shoulder, and with a sharp " ping," 20 MXrCK-A-MUCK. Muck-a-Muck leaped into tlie air a corpsa To dash out the brains of the remaining savages, tear the tresses from the stiffening hand of MTick-a.Muck, and dash rapidly forward to the cottage of Judge Tompkins, was the work a moment He -burst open the door. Why did he stand trans- fixed with open mouth and distended eye-balls? Was the sight too horrible to be borne ? On the contrary, before him, in her peerless beauty, stood Genevra Tompkins, learning on her father's arm. " Ye'r not scalped, then !" gasped her lover. " No. I have no hesitation in saying that I am not ; but why this abruptness ?" responded Genevra. Bumpo could not speak, but frantically produced the silken tresses! Genevra turned her face aside. " Why, that's her waterfall," said the Judge. Bumpo sank fainting to the floor. The famous Pike chieftain never recovered from the deceit, and refused to marry Genevra, who died, twenty years afterwards, of a broken heart Judge Tompkins lost his fortune in Wild Cat The stage passes twice a week the deserted cottage at Donner Lake. Thus was the death of Muck-a-Muok avenged. TERENCE DEUYILLE. BT OH— Ii — a CHAPTER L The little village of Pilwiddle is one of the smallest and obscurest hamlets on the western coast of Ireland. On a lofty crag, overlooking the hoarse Atlantic, stands " Deuville's Shot Tower" — a corrup- tion bj the peasantry of D^Miuville's ChUeau, so called from my great grandfather, Phelim St. Eemy D'Euville, who assumed the name and title of a French heiress with whom he ran away. To this feet my familiar knowledge and excellent pronun- ciation of the French language may be attributed, as W£ll as many of the events which covered my after life. The Deuvilles were always passionately fond of field sports. At the age of four, I was already the boldest rider and the best shot in the country. When only eight, I won the St. Eemy Cup at the Pilwiddle races — ^riding my favorite bloodmare Hell- 22 TEEENCB DEUTILLE. fire. As I approaclied the stand amidst tlie plaudits of the assembled multitude, and cries of " Thrue for ye, Masther Terence," and " Oh, but it's a Diuville !" there was a slight stir among the gentry, who sur- rounded the Lord Lieutenant, and other titled per- sonages whom the race had attracted thither. " How young he is — 2, mere child ; and yet how noble look- ing," said a sweet, low voice, which thrilled my soul. I looked up and met the full liquid orbs of the Hon. Blanche Fitzroy Sackville, youngest daughter of the Lord Lieutenant She blushed deeply. I turned pale and almost fainted. But the cold, sneer- ing tones of a masculine voice sent the blood back again into my youthful cheek. "Very likely the ragged scion of one of these ban- ditti Irish gentry, who has taken naturally to ' the road.' He should be at school— though I warrant me his knowledge of Terence will not extend beyond his own name," said Lord Henry Somerset, aid-de- camp to the Lord Lieutenant A moment and I was perfectly calm, though cold as ice. Dismounting, and stepping to the side of the speaker, I said in a low, firm voice : " Had your Lordship read Terence more carefully, . you would have learned that banditti are sometimes proficient in other arts beside horsemanship^" and I touched his holster significantly with my hand. I had not read Terence myself, but with the skUlfiil audacity of my race I calculated that a vague allu- sion, coupled with a threat, would embarrass him. It did. CD a" g. m TERENCE DEUVHiE. 23 " All — -whsit mean you ?" lie said, white witlirage, "EnoTigli, we are observed," I replied; "Father Tom will wait on you this evening: and to-morrow morning, ihy lord, in the glen below Pilwiddle we will meet again." " Father Tom — ^glen !" ejaculated the Englishman, with genuine surprise. "What? do priests carry challenges and act as seconds in your infernal coun- try?" " Yes !" I answered scornfully, " why should they not ? Their services are more often necessary than those of a surgeon," I added significantly, turning away. The party slowly rode off, with the exception of the Hon. Blanche Sackville, who lingered for a mo- ment behind. In an instant I was at her side. Bending her blushing face over the neck of her white filly, she said hurriedly : " "Words have passed between Lord Somerset and yoursel£ You are about to fight. Don't deny it — but tear me. You will meet him — ^I know your skill of weapons. He will be at your mercy. I en- treat you to spare his life I" I hesitated. "iNTever!" I cried passionately ; "he has insulted a Deuville !" "Terence," she whispered, "Terence— /or my sake?" The blood rushed to my cheeks at the loving epithets, and her eyes sought the ground in bashful confusion. " You love him then ?" I cried, bitterly. 24 ' TEEENOE DEUYILLE. " No, no," she said, agitatedly, " no, you wrong. I — T — cannot explain myseE Mjr father I ' — the Lady Dowager Sackville — :tlie estate of Sack- ville — tlie boroTigli — my uncle, Fitzroy Somerset. Ah ! what am I saying ? Forgive me. Oh, Terence," she said, as her beautiful head sank on my shoulder, " you know not what I suffer 1" I seized her hand and covered it with passionate kisses. But the high-bred English girl, recovering something of her former hauteur, said hastily, " Leave me, leave me, but promise!" " I promise," I replied, enthusiastically : " I will spare his life !" " Thanks, Terence — thanks !" and disengaging her hand from my lips she rode rapidly away. The next morning, the Hon. Capt Henry Somer- set and myself exchanged nineteen shots in the glen, and at each fire I shot away a button from his uni- form. As my last bullet shot off the last button from his sleeve, I remarked quietly, "You seem now, my lord, to be almost as ragged as the gentry you sneered at," and rode haughtily away. CHAPTER IL THE FIGHTING TUTY-SHTH. Whek I was nineteen years old my father sold the Chateau cP Euville and purchased my commission in the "Fifty-sixth" with the proceeds. "I say, TEEENCE DETJVILLE. 25 Deuville," said yoimg McSpadden, a boy-faced en- sign, wlio had just joined, " you'll represent the es- tate in the Army, if you won't in the House." Poor fellow, he paid for his meaningless joke with his life, for I shot him through the heart the next morning. You're a good fellow, Deuville," said the poor boy faintly, as I knelt beside him : " good bye !" For the first time since my grandfather's death I wept. I could not help thinking that I would have been a better man if Blanche — ^but why proceed? Was she not now in Morenoe — ^the belle of the En- glish Embassy. But JSTapoleon had returned fi-om Elba. Europe was m a blaze of excitement. The Allies were pre- paring to resist the Man of Destiny. We were or- dered from Gibraltar home, and were soon again en route for Brussels. I did not regret that I was to be placed in active service. I was ambitious, and longed for an opportunity to distinguish myself. My garrison life in Gibraltar had been monotonous and dulL I had killed five men in duel, and had an affatr with the colonel of my regiment, who hand- somely apologized before the mattter assumed a seri- ous aspect. I had been twice in love. Yet these were but boyish freaks and follies. I wished to be a man. The time soon came. — ^t^he morning of Waterloo. But why describe that momentous battle, on which the fate of the entire world was hanging ? Twice were the Fifty-sixth surrounded by French cuiras- siers, and twice did we mow them down by our fire. 2 26 TEEENCE DEtrVILLE. I had seven horses shot under me, and was mount- ing the eighth, when an orderly rode up hastily, touched his cap, and handing me a despatch, gal- loped rapidly away. I opened it hurriedly and tead : "Let Pictok advajstcb immediately on the BIGHT." I saw it all at a glance. I had been mistaken for a general officer. But what was to be done ? Pic- ton's division was two miles away, only accessible through a heavy cross fire of artillery and musketry. But my mind was made up. In an instant I was engaged with an entire squad-~ ron of cavalry, who endeavored to surround me. Cutting my way through them, I advanced boldly upon a battery and sabred the gunners before they could bring their pieces to bear. Looking around, I saw that I had ra fact penetrated the French centre. Before I was well aware of the locality, I was hailed by a sharp voice in French : " Come here, sir 1" I obeyed, and advanced to the side of a little man in a cocked hat " Has Grouchy come ?" " Not yet, sire," I replied — ^for it was the Emperor. " Ha !" he said suddenly, bending his piercing eyes on my uniform ; '' a prisoner?" " No, sire," I said, proudly. " A spy?" I placed my hand upon my sword, but a gesture from the Emperor bade me forbear. TEEENOE DEUVnXE. 27 " You are a brave man," he said. I took my snuff-box from my pocket, and taking a piach; replied by banding it, with a bow, to tbe Emperor. His quick eye caught the cipher on the lid. " What ! a D'Euville ? Ha 1 this accounts for the purity of your accent Any relation to Eoderick d'Euville. "My father, sire." " He was my schoolfellow at the Ecole Politechnique. Embrace me 1" and the Emperor fell upon my neck in the presence of his entire staff. Then recovering himself, he gently placed in my hand his own mag- nificent snuff-box, in exchange for mine, and hang- ing upon my breast the cross of the Legion of Honor which he took from his own, he bade one of his Marshals conduct me back to my regiment. I was so intoxicated with the honor of which I had been the recipient, that on reaching our lines I utter- ed a shout of joy and put spurs to my horse. The intelligent animal seemed to sympathize with my feelings, and faisly flew over the ground. On a ris- ing eminence a few yards before me stood a gray- haired officer, surrounded by his staff I don't know what possessed me, but putting spurs to my horse, I rode at him boldly, and with one bound cleared him, horse and alL A shout of indignation arose from the assembled staff. I wheeled suddenly, with the intention of apologizing, but my mare misunder- stood me, and again dashing forward, once more vaulted over the head of the officer, this time unfor- 28 TEEENOE DEtJVnJJ!. tunately uncovering him by a vicious kick of Iter hoof. " Sei2;e him 1" roared the entire army. I was seized. As the soldiers led me away, I asked the name of the gray -haired officer. " That — ^why that's the Duke of Wellington I" r fainted. ***** » * , For six months I had brain fever. During my illness the grapeshot were extracted from my body which I had unconsciously received during the bat- tle. When I opened my eyes I met the sweet glance of a Sister of Charity. " Blanche I" I stammered feebly. " The same," she replied. "You here?" " Yes, dear ; but hush I It's a long story. You see, dear Terence, your grandfather married my great aunt's sister, and your father again married my grandmother's niece, who, dying without a will, was, according to the French law " "But I do not comprehend," I said. " Of course not," said Blanche, with her old sweet smile; "you've had brain fever; so go to sleep." I understood, however, that Blanche loved me; and I am now, dear reader, Sir Terence Sackville, K 0. B., and Lady Blanche is Lady Sackville. SELHi SEDttlA. BY MISS M. E. B-DD-N AND MBS. H-N— T W-D. CHAPTEE L The sun was setting over Sloperton Irrange, and reddened the window of tke lonely chamber in the western tower, supposed to be haunted by Sir Ed- ward Sedilia, the founder of the Grange. In the dreamy distance arose the gUded mausoleum of Lady Felicia Sedilia, who haunted that portion of Sedilia Manor, know as " Stiff-uns Acre." A little to the left of the Grange might have been seen a moulder- ing ruin, known as " Guy's Keep," haunted by the spirit of Sir Guy Sedilia, who was found, one morn- ing, crushed by one of the fallen battlements. Yet, as the setting sun gilded these objects, a beautiful and almost holy calm seemed diffused about the Grange. The Lady Selina sat by an oriel window, over- looking the park. The sun sank gently in the bosom of the Gorman Ocean, and yet the lady did 30 SELINA SEDIIJA. not lift her beautiful head from the finely curved arm and -diminutive hand which supported it. When darkness finally shrouded the landscape, she started, for the sound of horse-hoofs clattered over the stones of the avenue. She had scarcely risen before an aris- tocratic young man fell on his knees before her. "MySeUna!" "Edgardol You here ?" " Yes, dearest." "And — ^you — ^you — ^have — seen nothing?" said the lady in an agitated voice and nervous manner, turning her face aside to conceal her emotion. " Nothing — ^that is nothing of any account," said Edgardo. " I passed the ghost of your aunt in the park, noticed the spectre 6f your uncle in the ruined keep, and observed the familiar features of the spirit of your great-grandfather at his post But nothing beyond these trifles, my Selina. Nothing more, love, absolutely nothing." The young man turned his dark liquid orbs fond- ly upon the ingenuous face of his betrothed. " My own Edgardo I — and you still love me ? You still would marry me in spite of this dark mystery which surrounds me ? In spite of the fatal history of my race ? In spite of the ominous predictions of my aged nurse ?" " I would, Selina ;" and the young man passed his arm around her yielding waist The two lovers gazed at each other's faces in unspeakable bliss. Suddenly Selina started. " Leave me, Edgardo ! leave me I A mysterious SEUNA SEDILIA. 31 something — a fatal misgiving — a dark ambiguity — ah equivocal mistrust oppresses me. I would be alone !" The young man arose, and cast a loving glance on the lady. " Then we will be married on the seven- teenth." " The seventeenth," repeated Selina, with a mys- terious shudder. They embraced and parted. As the clatter of hoofs in the court-yard died away, the Lady Selina saiLk into the chair she had just quitted. "The seventeenth," she -repeated slowly, with the same fatal shudder. " Ah ! — ^what if he should know that I have another husband living ? Dare I reveal to him that I have two legitimate and three natural children ? Dare I repeat to him the history of my youth? Dare I confess that at the age of seven I poisoned my sister, by putting verdigris in her cream-tarts — ^that I threw my cousin from a swing at the age of twelve ? That the lady's maid who in curredthe displeasure of my girlhood now lies at the bottom of the horse-pond ? No ! no ! he is too pure — ^too good — ^too innocent, to hear such improper conversation !" and her whole body writhed as she rocked to and fro in a paroxysm of grief. But she was soon calm. Eising to her feet, she opened a secret panel in the wall, and revealed a slow-match ready for lighting. " This match," said the Lady Selina, " is connect- ed with a mine beneath the western tower, where my three children are, confined ; another branch of it 32 SELINA SEDILIA. lies Tiader tlie parish. cIitifcIi, where the record of my firat marriage is kept I have only to light this match and the whole of my past life is swept away !" She approached the match with a lighted candle. But a hand was laid upon her arm, and with a shriek the Lady Selina fell on her knees before the spectre of Sir Guy. CHAPTEE n. "FoRBEAE, Selina, said the phantom in a hollow voice. " Why should I forbear ?" responded Selina haugh- tily, as she recovered her courage. " You know the secret of our race ?" " I do. Understand me — I do not object to the eccentricities of your youth. I know the fearful fate which, pursuing you, led you to poison your sister and drown your lady's maid. I know the awful doom which I have brought apon this house 1 But if you make way with these children " " Well," said the Lady Selina, hastily. " They will haunt you !" " Well, I fear them not," said Selina, drawing her superb figure to its fall height. " But what place are they to haunt ? The ruin is sacred to your uncle's spirit. Your aunt monopo- lizes the park, and, I must be allowed to state, not un&equently trespasses upon the grounds of others. The horsepond is requented by the spirit of your tnaid, and your murdered sister walks these corri- SEUNA SEDILIA. 33 dors. To be plain, there is no room at Sloper- ton Grange fbr another ghost. I cannot have them in my room — for you know I don't like children. Think of this, rash girl, and forbear ! Would you, Selina," said the phantom mournfully, "would you force your great-grandfather's spirit to take lodgings elsewhere?" Lady Selina's hand trembled ; the lighted candle fell from her nerveless fingers. " No," she cried passionately ; " Never !" and fell fainting to the floor. CHAPTER in. Edgardo galloped rapidly towards Sloperton. When the outline of the Grange had faded away in the darkness, he reined his magnificent steed beside the ruins of Guy's Keep. " It wants but a few minutes of the hour," he said, consulting his watch by the light of the moon. " He dare not break his word. He wUl come." He paused, and peered anxiously into the darkness. " But come what may, she is mine," he continued, as his thoughts reverted fondly to the fair lady he had quitted. " Yet, if she knew all. J£ she knew that I were a disgraced and ruined man-^— a felon and an outcast. If she knew that at the age of four- teen I murdered my Latin tutor and forged my un- cle's will. If she knew that I had three wives already, and that the fourth victim of misplaced con- 2* 34 SEIINA SEDILIA. fidence and my unfortunate peculiarity is expected to be at Slopertonby to-night's train with her baby. But no ; she must not know it. Constance must not arrive. Burke the Slogger must attend to that" " Ha I here he is ! Well?" These words were addressed to a ruffian in a slouched hat, who suddenly appeared from Gruy's Keep. "I he's here, measter," said the villain, with a disgracefully low accent and complete disregard of grammatical rules. " It is well. Listen : I'm in possession of facts that will send you to the gallows. I know of the murder of Bill Smithers, the robbery of the toll-gate, keeper, and the making away of the youngest daugh- ter of Sir Eeginald de Walton. A word from me, and the officers of justice are on your track." Burke the Slogger trembled. " Hark ye I serve my purpose, and I may yet save you The 5.30 train from Olapham will be due at Sloperton at 9.25. It must not arrive /" The villain's eyes sparkled as he nodded at Ed- gardo. "Enough— you understand; leave me I" CHAPTEE IV. About half a mile from Sloperton Station the South Clapham and Medway line crossed a bridge over SELINA SEDILIA. 35 Sloperton-on-Trent As tlie shades of evening were closing, a man in a slouelied hat might have been seen carrying a saw and axe under his arm, hanging about the bridge. From time to time he disappeared in the shadow of its abutments, but the sound of a saw and axe still betrayed his vicinity. At exactly nine o'clock he re-appeared, and crossing to the Slop- erton side, rested his shoulder against the abutment and gave a shove. The bridge swayed a moment, and then fell with a splash into the water, leaving a space of one himdred feet between the two banks. This done, Burke the Slogger — for it was he — ^with a fiendish chuckle seated himself on the divided railway track and awaited the coming of the train. A shriek fi:om the woods announced its approach. For an instant Burke the Slogger saw the glaring of a red lamp. The ground trembled. The train was going with fearful rapidity. Another second and it had reached the bank. Burke the Slogger uttered a fiendish laugh. But the next moment the train leaped across the chasm, striking the rails exactly even, and, dashing out the life of Burke the Slogger, sped away to Sloperton. The first object that greeted Edgardo as he rode up to the station on the arrival of the train, was the body of Burke the Slogger hanging on the cow-catch- er ; the second was the face of his deserted wife look- ing firom the windows of a second-class carriage. 36 SELINA SEDILI4. OHAPTEE y. A NAMELESS terror seemed to have taken posses- sion of Clarissa, Lady Selina's maid, as she rushed into the presence of her mistress. " Oh, my lady, such news !" "Explain yourself," said her mistress, rising. "An accident has happened on the railway, and a man has been killed." " "What — ^not Edgardo !" almost screamed Selina. " No, Burke the Slogger !" your ladyship. " My first husband !" said Lady Seliaa, sinking on her knees. "Just heaven, I thank thee !" CHAPTER VL The morning of the seventeenth dawned brightly over Sloperton, " A fine day for the wedding," said the sexton to Swipes, the butler of Sloperton Grange. The aged retainer shook his head sadly. "Alas! there's no trusting in signs !" he continued., " Seven- ty-five years ago, on a day hke this, my young mis- tress — " but he was cut short by the appearance of a stranger. " I would see Sir Edgardo," said the new-comer, impatiently. The bridegroom, who, with the rest of "the wedding- train, was about stepping into the carriage to proceed to the parish church, drew the stranger aside. SEUNA SEDILIA. 37 "It's donel" said the stranger, in a hoarse wliis- per. " Ah ! and you buried her?" "With the others!" "Enough. No more at present Meet me after the ceremony, -and you shall have your reward. The stranger shuffled away, and Edgardo returned to his bride. " A trifling matter of busiaess I had forgotten, my dear Seliaa; let us proceed," and the young man pressed the timid hand of his blushing bride as he handed her into the carriage. The cav- alcade rode out of the courtyard. At the same moment, the deep bell on Guy's Keep tolled omi- nously. CHAPTER Vn. "** ScAECELT had the wedding-train left the Grange, than Alice SediHa, youngest daughter of Lady Seliaa, made her escape from the western tower, owing to a lack of watchfulness on the part of Clarissa. The innocent child, freed from restraint, rambled through the lonely corridors, and finally, opening a door, found herself in her mother's boudoir. For some time she amused herself by examining the various ornaments and elegant trifles with which it was filled. Then, in pursuance of a childish freak, she dressed herself in her mother's laces- and ribbons. In this occupation she chanced to touch a peg which proved to be a spring that opened a secret panel in the wall. Alice utered a cry of delight as she noticed what, to 88 SEUNA SEDIUA. her cluldisli fancy, appeared to be tlie slow-matcli of a fire-work. Taking a luoifer matcli in lier hand she approached the ftise. She hesitated a moment "What woiild her mother and her nurse say ? Suddenly the ringing of the chimes of Sloperton parish church met her ear. Ahce knew that the sound signified that the marriage party had entered the church, and that she was secure firom interruption. With a childish smile upon her lips, Ahce Sedilia touched off the slow-match CHAPTEE VrX At exactly two o'clock on the seventeenth, Eu- pert Sedilia, who had just returned fi:om India, was thoughtfully descendiag the hill toward Sloperton manor. " If I can prove that my aunt Lady Selina was married before my father died, I can establish my claim to Sloperton Grange," he uttered, half aloud. He paused, for a sudden trembling of the earth be- neath his feet, and a terrific explosion, as of a park of artillery, arrested his progress. At the same moment he beheld a dense cloud of smoke envelope the churchyard of Sloperton, and the western tower of the Grange seemed to .be lifted bodily from its foun- dation. The air seemed filled with falhng fragments, and two dark objects struck the earth close at his feei Eupert picked them up. One seemed to be a heavy volume bound in brass. The secret panel in the wall. -(After Braddon. ) See page 38. SELINA SEDILIA. 39- A cry burst from Lis lips. "The Parisli Eecords." He opened the volmne hastily. It contaiaed the marriage of Lady Sehna to "Burke the Slogger." The second object proved to be a piece of parch- ment He tore it open -with trembling fingers. It was the missing -will of Sir James Sedilia I CHAPTEE TY. WheS" the bells again rang on the new parish chnrch of Sloperton it was for the marriage of Sir Rupert Sedilia and his cousin, the only remaining members of the family. Five more ghosts were added to the supernatural population of Sloperton Granga Perhaps this wag, the reason why Sir Rupert sold the property shortly afterward, and that for many years a dark shadow seemed to hang over the ruins of Sloperton Grange. THE HNETY-MNE GUARDSMEN. BY Ali-X-D-B D-M-S. CHAPTEK I SHOWINa THE QTTATiTTY OF THE CTJSTOMEBS 01" THE Cm^EEPEB OJ PEOYIN3.' Twenty years after, the gigantic innkeeper of Proving stood looking at a cloud of dust on the high- way. This cloud of dust betokened the approach of a traveler. Travelers had been rare that season on the highway between Paris and Provins. The heart of the innkeeper rejoiced. Turning to Dame Perigord, his wife, he said, stroking his white apron : St Denis 1 make haste and spread the cloth. Add a bottle of Charlevoix to the table. This traveler, who rides so fast, by, his pace must be a Monsei- gneur. Truly the traveler, clad in the uniform of a mus- keteer, as he drew up to the door of the hostelry, THE NINETY-UmE GUAED8MFN. 41 did Bot seem to have spared Ms horse. Throwing his reins to the landlord, he leaped lightly to the ground. He was a young man of four and twenty, and spoke with a slight Gascon accent. " I am hungry, Morbku 1 1 wish to dine I" The gigantic innkeeper bowed and led the way to a heat apartment, where a table stood covered with tempting viands. The musketeer at once set to work. Fowls, fish and pat^ disappeared before him. Perigord sighed as she witnessed the devasta- tions. Only once the stranger paused. " Wine !" Perigord brought wine. The stranger drank a dozen bottles. Finally he rose to depart. Turning to the expectant landlord, he said : "Charge it." " To whom, your highness ?" said Perigord, anx- iously. "To his Eminence!" " Mazarin !" ejaculated the innkeeper. " The same. Bring me my horse," and the mus- keteer, remounting his favorite animal, rode away. The innkeeper slowly turned back into the inn. Scarcely had he reached the courtyard, before the clatter of hoofs again called him to the doorway. A young musketeer of a light and graceful figure, rode up. " Parhleu, my dear Perigord, I am famishing.. What have you got for dinner?" " Venison, capons, larks and pigeons, your excel- lency," replied the obsequious landlord, bowing to the ground. 42 THE NINETY-NmE GUABDSMEN. "Enougli!" The young musketeer dismounted and entered tlie inn. Seating himself at the table replenished by tte careful Perigord, he speedily swept it as clean as the first comer. " Some wine, my brave Perigord," said the graceful young musketeer, as soon as he could fi^d utterance. Perigord brought three dozen of Charlevoix.* The young man emptied them almost at a draught " By-by, Perigord," he said lightly, waving his hand, as, preceding the astonished landlord, lie slow- ly withdrew. " But, your highness — ^thebill," said the astound- ed Perigord. " Ah, the bill. Charge it I" "To whom?" " The Queen I" "What, Madame?" " The same. Adieu my good Perigord," and the graceful stranger rode away. An interval of quiet succeeded, in which the innkeeper gazed woefully at his wife. Suddenly he was startled by a clatter of hoofe, and an aristocratic figure stood in the door- way. " Ah," said the courtier good naturedly. " What, do my eyes deceive me ? No, it is the festive and luxurious Perigord. Perigord, listen. I famisL I languish. I would dine." , The innkeeper again covered the table with viands. Again it was swept clean as the fields of Egypt be- fore the miraculous swarm of locusts. The stranger looked up. THE NINETY-NINE GTJAEDSMEN. 43 " Bring me another fowl, my Perigord." "Impossible, your excellency, tte larder is stripped clean." " Another flitcli of bacon, tben." " Impossible, your Mghness — ^tbere is no more." " Well, then, wine !" The landlord brought one hundred and forty-four bottles. The courtier drank them all. " One may drink if one cannot eat," said the aris- tocratic stranger, good-humoredly. The innkeeper shuddered. The guest rose to depart. The innkeeper came slowly forward with his bill, to which he had covertly added the losses which he had suffered from the pre- vious strangers. "•Ah ! the bill— charge it." " Charge it ! to whom ?" " To the King," said the guest. "What! his Majesty?" " Certainly. Farewell, Perigord." The innkeeper groaned. - Then he went out and . took down his sign, ThenTemarked to his wife : " I am a plain man, and don't understand poli- tics. It seems, however, that the country is in a troubled state. Between his Eminence the Cardinal, his Majesty the King, and her Majesty the Queen, I am a ruined man." * " Stay," said Dame Perigord, " I have an idea," "And that is " " Become yourself a musketeer." 44 THE NINETT-HINE GtJAEDSMEN. CHAPTEEn. 'I' M Hi COMBAT, On leaving Provins tlie first musketeer proceeded to Nangis, where lie was reinforced by thirty-tkree followers. The second musketeer, arriving at Nangis at the same moment, placed himself at the head of thirty-three more. The third guest of the Landlord of Provins arrived at Nangis in time to assemble to- gether thirty-three other musketeers. The first stranger led the troops of his Eminence. The second led the troops of the Queen. The third led the troops of the King. The fight commenced. It raged terribly for seven hours. The first musketeer killed thirty of the Queen's troops. The second musketeer killed thirty of the King's troops. The third musketeer killed thirty of his Eminence's troops. By this time it will be perceived the number of musketeers had been narrowed down to four on each side. Naturally the three principal warriors approached each other. They simultaneously uttered a cry : " AramisJ" " Athos 1" " D'Artagnan 1" They fell into each other's arms. " And it seems that we are fighting against each THE NmETY-NINE GUAEDSMEN. 45 otlier, my cMldren," said tlie Count de la Fere, mournfully. " How singular !" exclaimed Aramis and D'Arta- gnan. "Let us stop this fratricidal warfare," said Athos. " We will 1" they exclaimed together. "But how to disband 6ur followers?" queried D'Artagnan. Aramis winked. They understood each other. " Let us cut 'er^ down !" They cut 'em down. Aramis killed three. D'Ar- tagnan three. Athos three. The friends again embraced. "How like old times," said Aramis. " How touching !" exclaimed the serious and philosophic Count de la Fere. The galloping of hoofs caused them to withdraw from each other's embraces. A gigantic figure la- pidly approached. / " The innkeeper of Provins I they cried, drawing their swords. " Perigord, down with him 1" shouted D'Artagnan. " Stay," said Athos. The gigantic figure was beside them. He uttered a cry. " Athos, Aramis, D'Artagnan I" " Porthos !" exclaimed the astonished trio. " The same." They all fell in each other's arms. The Count de la Fere slowly raised his hands to Heaven. " Bless you ! Bless us, my children ! However different our opinion may be in regard to politics, we have but one opinions in regard to our 46 THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN. own merits. Where can you find a better man than Aramis ?" " Than Porthos ?" said Aramis. " Than D'Artagnan?" said Porthos. " Than Athos ?" said D'Artagnan. CHAPTEE UL SHOWING HOW THE EXNG OF FBANOE WENT UP A LASDEB. The King descended into the garden. Proceed- ing cautiously along the terraced walk, he came to the wall immediately below the windows of Madame. To the left were two windows, concealed by Tiaes. They opened into the apartments of La VaUiere. The King sighed. " It is about nineteen feet to that window," said the King. " If I had a ladder about nineteen feet long, it would reach to that window. This is logic." Suddenly the King stumbled over something. " St Denis !" he exclaimed, looldng down. It was a lad- der, just nineteen feet long. The King placed it against the wall. In so doing, he fixed the lower end upon the abdomen of a man who lay concealed by the wall The man did not utter a cry or winca The King suspected nothing. He ascended the ladder. The ladder was too short. Louis the Grand was not a tall man. He was stiU two feet below the win- dow. THE NINETr-NmE GUABDSMEN, 47 " Dear me I" said tlie King. Suddenly tlie ladder was lifted two feet from be- low. This enabled tbe King to leap in tbe window. At tbe furtlier end of tbe apartment stood a young girl, with red bair and a lame leg. Ske was trem- bling witb emotion. "Louise!" " Tbe King I" " Ah, my Grod, mademoiselle." " Ah, my God, sire." But a low knock at the door interrupted the lov- ers. The King uttered a cry of rage ; Louise one of despair. The door opened and DArtagnan entered " Good evening, sire," said the musketeer. The King touched a belL Porthos appeared in the doorway. " Good evening, sire." " Arrest M. DArtagnaa" Porthos looked at D'Artagnan, and did not move. The King almost turned purple with rage. He again touched the bell. Athps entered. " Count, arrest Porthos and D'Artagnan." The Count de la Fere glanced at Porthos and D'Artagnan, and smiled sweetly. " Saare ! Where is Aramis ?" said the King, vio- lently. " Here sire," and Aramis entered. " Arrest Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan, Aramis bowed and folded his arms. " Arrest yourself I" 4B THE NIKETY-NINE GUABDSMEN. Aramis did not move. The King skaddered and tioraed pale. "Am I not King of France ?" " Assuredly sire, but we are also severally, Por- thos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, and Atlios." " Ah 1" said the King. "Yes, sire." " What does this mean ?" " It means, your majesty," said Aramis, stepping forward, " that your conduct as a married man is highly improper. I am an Abb^, and I object to these improprieties. My Mends here, D'Artagnan, Athos and Porthos, pure-minded young men, are also terribly shocked. Observe sire, how they blush 1" Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan blushed. " Ah," said the King, thoughtfully. " You teach me a lesson. You are devoted and noble young gentlemen, but your only weakness is your excessive modesty. From this moment I make you all Mar- shals and Dukes, with the exception of Aramis. " And me, sire ?" said Aramis. " You shall be an Archbishop 1" The four friends looked up and then rushed kito each other's arms. The King embsraced Louise de la Valliere, by way of keeping them company. A pause ensued. At last Athos spoke : " Swear, my children, that next to yourselves, you win respect — ^the King of France ; and remember that ' Forty years after ' we will meet again." THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD. BY SIB ED-D L-TT-N B-LW-R. BOOK I. THE PEOMPnNGS OF TBS IDBATi. It was noon. Sir Edward had stepped from his brougham and was proceeding on foot down the' Strand. He was dressed with his usual faultless taste, but in alighting from his vehicle his foot had slipped, and a small round disk of conglomerated soil, which instantly appeared on his high arched instep, marred the harmonious glitter of his boots. Sir Edward was fastidious. Casting his ejes around, at a little distance he perceived the stand of a youth- fixl bootblack. Thither he sauntered, and carelessly placing his foot on the low stool, he waited the appli- cation of the polisher's Art " 'Tis true," said Sir Edward to himself, yet half aloud, "the contact of the Foul and the Disgusting inars the general effect of the Shiny and the Beautiful — and, yet, why am I here? I repeat it, calmly and deliberately — ^v^[^.am I here? Hal Boy I" '*^" 50 THE bWELLEB OF THE THEESHOLD. The Boy looked up — ^Ms dark Italian eyes glanced intelligently at the Philosoplier, and, as with one hand he tossed back his glossy curls from his marble brow, and with the other he spread the equally glossy Day & Martin over the Baronet's boot, he answered in deep rich tones : " The Ideal is subjec- tive to the EeaL The exercise of apperception gives a distinctiveness to idiocracy, which is, however, sub- ject to the limits of Me. You are an admirer of the Beautiful, sir. You wish your boots blacked. The Beautiful is attainable by means of the Coin." ''Ah," said Sir Edward thoughtfully, gazing upon the almost supernal beauty of the Child before him ; "you speak weU. You have read Kant." The Boy blushed deeply. He drew a copy of Kant from his blouse, but in his confusion several other volumes dropped from his bosom on the ground. The Baronet picked them up. " Ah !" said the Philosopher, " what's this ? Oicero's De Senectute, at your age, too ? MartiaVs Epigrams, Caesar's Commentaries. What I a classical scholar?" "E pluribus Unum. Nux vomica. Nildesperan- dum. NihU. fit!" said the Boy, enthusiastically. The Philosopher gazed at the Child. A strange presence^seemed to transfuse and possess him. Over the brow of the Boy glittered the pale nimbus of the Student " Ah, and Schiller's Bobbers, too ?" queried ■ the Philosopher. ^ " jbas ist ausgespielt," said the Boy modestly. " Then you have read my translation of Schiller's The fastidious Philosopher of the Ideal and the classic young Italian. (After 'BvirwE'R.) See page 50. THE DWELLER OF THE THKESHOLD. 51 Ballad's 2" continued the Baronet, -with, some show of interest. " I have, and infinitely prefer them to the Origi- nal," said the Boy, with intellectual warmth. " You have shown how in Actual life we strive for a Goal we cannot reach ; how in the Ideal the Groal.is attain- able, and there effort is victory. You have given us the Antithesis which is a key to the Remainder, and constantly balances before us the conditions of the Actual and the privileges of the Ideal." "My very words," said the Baronet; "wonderful, wonderful I" and he gazed fondly at the Italian boy, who again resumed his menial employment. Alas 1 the wings of the Ideal were folded. The Student had been absorbed in the Boy. But Sir' Edward's boots were blacked, and he turned to depart Placing his hand upon the cluster- ing tendrUs that surrounded the classic nob of the infant Italian, he said softly, like a strain of distant music : "Boy, you have done welL Love the Good. Protect the Innocent Provide for The Indigent Respect the Philosopher." . . . . " Stay I Can you tell me what w The True, The Beautiful, The Innocent, The Virtuous ? " They are things that commence with a capital letter," said the Boy, promptly. "Enough! Respect everything that commences with a capital letter ! Respect Me !" and dropping a half-penny in the hand of the Boy, he departed. The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A fiightfiil 52 THE DWELLER OP THE THRESHOLD. and instantaneous change overspread Ms featurea His noble brow was corrugated witb. baser lines of calculation. His black eye, serpent-like, glittered with suppressed passion. 'Dropping upon his bands and feet, be crawled to the curbstone and hissed after the retreatiag form of the Baronet, the single word : "Bilk!" BOOK II. m THE WOBLD. "Eleven years ago," said Sir Edward to himself, as his brougham slowly rolled him toward the Com- mittee Eoom; "just eleven years ago my natural son disappeared mysteriously. I have no doubt in the world but that this little bootblack is ha His mother died in Italy. He resembles his mother very much. Perhaps I ought to provide for him. Shall I disclose myself? No ! no ! Better he should taste the sweets of Labor. Penury ennobles the mind and kindles the Love of the BeautifaL I will act to him, not like a Father, not like a Guardian, not like a Friend — ^but like a Philosopher !" With these words. Sir Edward entered the Com- mittee Eoom. His Secretary approached him. " Sir Edward, there are fears of a division in the House, and the Prime Minister has sent for you." " I will be there," said Sir Edward, as h^ placed his hand on his chest and uttered a hollow cough ! No one who heard the Baronet that rdght, in his THE DWELLEB OE THE THEESHOLD. 53 sarcastic and witkering speecli on the Drainage and Sewerage BUI, would have recognised the lover of the Ideal and the Philosopher of the Beautiful No one who listened to his eloquence would have dreamed of the Spartan resolution this iron man had taken ia regard to the Lost Boy — ^his own beloved Lionel None ! "A fine speech, from Sir Edward, to-night," said Lord Billingsgate, as, arm-and-arm with the Premier, he entered his carriage. " Yes ! but how dreadfiilly he coughs !" " Exactly. Dr. Bolus says his lungs are entirely gone ; he breathes entirely by an effort of will, and altogether independent of pulmonary assistance." " How^strange !" and the carriage rolled awaw. BOOK III. THE DWELLEB OF THE THEESHOLD, " Adon Ai, appear ! appear 1" And as the Seer spoke, the awfiil Presence ghded out of Nothingness, and sat, sphiuxlike, at the feet of the Alchemist. " I am come 1" said the Tiling. "You should say, 'I have come' — ^it's better grammar," said the Boy-Neophyte, thoughtfully accenting the substituted expression. " Hush, rash Boy," said the Seer sternly. " "Would you oppose your feeble knowledge to the iofinite ia- 54 THE DWELLEB OF THE THBESHOLD. ' telligence of tlie UnmistakaUe? A word, and you are lost forever." The Boy breathed a silent prayer, and handing a sealed package to the Seer, begged him to hand it to his father in case of his premature decease. "YoTi have sent for me," hissed the Presence. " Behold me,, Apokatharticon — ^the Unpronoimceabla In me all things exist that are not already co-existent I am the Unattainable, the Intangible, the Cause and the Effect In me observe the Brahma of Mr. Emerson ; not only Brahma himself, but also the sacred musical composition rehearsed by the faithfiil Hindoo. I am the real Gyges. None others are genuine." And the veiled Son of the Starbeam laid himself loosely about the room, and permeated Space gen- erally. "Unfathomable Mystery," said the Eosicrucian in a low, sweet voice. Brave Child with the Vitreous Optic ! Thou who pervadest all things and rubbest against us without abrasion of the cuticle. I com- mand thee, speak I" And the misty, intangible, indefinite Presence spoka BOOK IV. MYSELF. Aftee the events related in the last chapter, the reader will perceive that nothing was easier than to THE DWEIiER OE THE THRESHOLD. 55 reconcile Sir Edward to his son Lionel, nor to resus- citate tlie beautiftd Italian girl, who, it appears, was not dead, and to cause Sir Edward to marry Ms first and boyish love whom he had deserted. They were married in St George's, Hanover Square. As the bridal party stood before the altar, Sir Edward, with a sweet sad smile, said, in quite his old manner: " The Sublime and Beautiful are the Eeal ; the only Ideal is the Eidiculous and Homely. Let us always remember thia Let us through life endeavor to personify the virtues, and always begin 'em with a capital letter. Let us, whenever we can find an opportunity, deliver our sentiments in the form of round hand copiea Eespect the Aged. Eschew Vulgarity. Admire Ourselves. Eegard the Novelist." THE PAUNTED MAN. BY OH-E-S D-C-K-N-S. PAET L THE ITBST PTtANTOM, Don't tell me that it wasn't a knocker. I Had seen it often enougli, and I ought to know. So ought the three o'clock beer, in dirty high-lows, swinging himself over the railing, or executing a de- moniacal jig upon the doorstep ; so ought the butcher, although butchers as a general thing are scornful of such trifles ; so ought the postman, to whom knock- ers of the most extravagant description were merely human weaknesses, that were to be pitied and used. And so ought, for the matter of that, etc., etc., etc. But then it was such a knocker. A wUd, extrava- gant and utterly incomprehensible knocker. A knocker so mysterious and suspicious that Police- THE HAUNTED MAN. 57 man X*37, first coming upon it, felt inclined to take it instantly in custody, but compromised with Ms professional instincts by sbarply and sternly notiag it with an eye that admitted of no nonsense, but con- fidently expected to detect its secret yet An ugly knocker; a knocker with a hard, human face, that was a type of the harder human face within. A hu- man face that held between its teeth a brazen rod. So hereafter, in the mysterious fiiture should be held, etc., etc. But if the knocker had a fierce human aspect in the glare of day, you should have seen it at night, when it peered out of the gathering shadows and sug- gested an ambushed figure ; when the light of the street lamps fell upon it, and wrought a play of sinis- ter expression in its hard outlines ; when it seemed to wink meaningly at a shrouded figure who, as the night fell darkly, crept up the steps and passed into the mysterious house ; when the swinging door disclosed a black passage into which the figure seemed to lose itself and become a part of the mysterious gloom ; when the night grew boisterous and the fierce wind made furious charges at the knocker, as if to wrench it off and carry it away in triimiph. Such a night |is this. It was a wild and pitiless wind. A wind that had commenced life as a gentle country zephyr, but wan dering through manufacturing towns had become de moralized, and reaching the city had plunged into extravagant dissipation and wild excesses. A roy stering wind that indulged in BacchanaHan shouts on 58 THE HAUNTED MAN. the street comers, that knocked off tlie hats frora .the heads of helpless passengers, and then falfiUed its duties by speeding away, hke all young prodigals — to sea. He sat alone in a gloomy hbrary Hstening to the wind that roared in the chimney. Around him nov- els and story-books were strewn thickly ; in his lap he held one with its pages freshly cut, and turned the leaves wearily until his eyes rested upon a por- trait in its frontispiece. And as the wind howled the more fiercely, and the darkness without fell blacker, a strange and fatefiil likeness to that portrait appear- ed above his chair and leaned upon his shoulder. The Haunted Man gazed at the portrait and sighed- The figure gazed at the portrait and sighed too. " Here again ?" said the Haunted Man. " Here again," it repeated in a low voice. "Another novel ?" "Another novel" " The old story ?" " The old story." " I see a child," said the Haunted Man, gazing from the pages of the book into the fire — " a most unnatural child, a model infant It is prematurely old and philosophic. __ It d^es in poverty to slow, music. It dies surrounded by luxury to slow music. It dies with an accompaniment of golden water and rattling carts to slow music. Previous to its decease it makes a wiU ; it repeats the Lord's prayer, it kisses the ' boofer lady.' That child ." " Is mine," said the phantom. THE HAUNTED MAN. 59 " I see a good woman, undersized. I see several charming women, but they are all undersifiei They are more or less imbecile and idiotic, but always fas- cioatiDg and undersized. They wear coquettish caps and aprons. I observe that feminine virtue is inva- riably below the mediimi height, and that it is always babyish and infantina These women " "Are mine." " I see a haughty, proud, and wicked lady. She is tall and queenly. I remark that all proud and wicked women are tall and queenly. That wo- man " " Is mine," said the phantom., wringing his hands. "I see several things continually impending. I observe that whenever an accident, a murder, or death is about to happen, there is something in the furniture, in the locality, in the atmosphere that fore; shadows and suggests it years in advance. I cannot say that in real hfe J have noticedTit — ^the perception of this surprising fact belongs- " " To me !" said the phantom. The Haunted Man continued, in a despairing tone : " I see the influence of this in the magazines and daily papers : I see weaik imitators rise up and_ en- feeble the world with senseless formula. I am get- ting tired of it. It, won't do, Charles I it won't do !" and the Haunted Man buried his head in his hands and groaned. The figure looked down upon him sternly : the portrait in the frontispiece frowned as he gazed. "Wretched man," said the phantom, "and how have these things affected you ?" 60 THE HAUNTED MAN. " Once I laughed and cried, but then I was youn- ger. Now, I would forget them if I could." " Have then yoxu* wish. And take this with you, man whom I renounce. From this day henceforth you shall live with those whom I displace. Without forgetting me, 'twill be your lot to walk through life as if we had not met But first you shall survey these scenes that henceforth must be yours. At one to-night, prepare to meet the phantom I have raised. Farewell !" The sound of its voice seemed to fade away with the dying wind, and the Haunted Man was alone. But the firelight fiickered gayly, and the light danced on the walls, making grotesque figures of the furni- ture. " Ha, ha 1" said the Haunted Man, rubbing his hands gleefully ; " now for a whiskey punch and a cigar." BOOK IL THE SECOND PHANTOM. One ! The stroke of the far-off beU had hardly died before the front door closed with a reverberating clang. Steps were heard along the passage ; the library door swung open of itself, and the Knocker — yes, the Knocker — slowly strode into the room. The Haunted Man rubbed his eyes-— no ! there could be no mistake about it — ^it was the Knocker's face, mounted on a misty, almost imperceptible body THE HAUNTED MAN. 61 The brazen rod was transferred from its moutli to its right hand, where it' was held like a ghostly trun- cheon. " It's a cold evening," said the Haunted Man. " It is," said the Goblin, in a hard, metallic voice. " It must be pretty cold out there," said the Haunt- ed Man, with vague politeness. "Do you ever — will you — take some hot water and brandy ?" " No," said the Goblin. " Perhaps you'd like it cold, by way of change ?" continued the Hannted Man, correcting himself, as he remembered the peculiar temperature with which the GobHn was probably familiar. " Time flies," said the Goblin coldly. " "We have no leisure for idle talk Come !" He moved his ghostly truncheon toward the window, and laid his hand upon the other's arm. At his touch the body of the Haunted Man seemed to become as thin and incorporeal as that of the Goblin himself, and together they glided out of the window into the black and blowy night In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the Haunted Man seemed to leave -him. At length they stopped suddenly. " What do you see?" asked the GobHn. "I see a battlepaented medieval castle. Gallant men in mail ride over the drawbridge, and kissjiheir gauntleted fingers to fair ladies, who wave their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray and tourna- ment I hear roaring heralds bawling the charms of delicate women, and shamelessly proclaiming their 62 THE HAUNTED MAN. lovers. Stay. I see a Jewess about to leap from a battlement I see knigbtly deeds, violence, rapine, and a good deal of blood. I've seen pretty mucL tlie same at Astley's." "Look again. " I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, bare- legged men, priggish book worms, more violence, physical excellence, and blood. Always blood — and the superiority of physical attainments." "And how do you feel now?" said the Goblin. The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders. " None the better for being carried back and asked to sympathize with a barbarous age." The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm; they again sped rapidly through the -black night, and again halted. " What do you see ?" said the Goblin. " I see a barrack room, with a mess table, and a group of intoxicated Celtic officers telling funny stories, and giving challenges to duel. I see a young Irish gentleman capable of performing prodigies of valor. I learn incidentally that the acme of all heroism is the cornetcy of a dragoon regiment. I hear a good deal of French 1 No, thanlc you," said the Haunted Man hurriedly, as he stayed the waving hand of the Goblin ; " I would rather not go to the Penijisula, and don't care to have a private interview with Napoleon." Again the Goblin flew away with the unfortunate man, and from a strange roaring below them, he judged they were above the ocean. A ship hove in THE HAUNTED MAN 63 sigTit, and the Goblin stayed its fliglit " Look," lie said, squeezing his companion's arm. The Haunted Man yawned. "D,on't you think, Charles, you're rather running this thing into the ground ? Of course, it's very moral and instructive, and all that. But ain't there a little too much panto- mime about it ? Come now !" "Look!" repeated the Goblin, pinching his arm malevolently. The Haunted Man groaned. " Oh, of course, I see Her Majesty's ship Arethusa. Of course I am familiar with her stern First Lieuten- ant, her eccentric Captain, her one fascinating and several mischievous midshipmen. Of course, I know it's a splendid thing ,to see all this, and not to be sea-sick. Oh, there the young gentlemen are going to play a trick on the purser. For God's sake, let us go," and the unhappy man absolutely dragged the Goblin away with him. When they next halted, it was at the edge of a broad and boundless prairie, in the middle of an oak opening. " T see," said the Haunted Man, without waiting for his cue, but mechanically, and as if he were re- peating a lesson which the Goblin had taught him, " I see the Noble Savage. He is very fine to look at ! But I observe under his war paint, feathers and picturesque blanket — dirt, disease, and an unsym- metrical contour. I observe beneath his inflated rhetoric deceit and hypocrisy. Beneath his physical hardihood, cruelty, malice and revenga The Noble Savage is a humbug. I remarked the same to Mr. Catlin." 64 THE HAUNTED MAN. " Come," said the phantom. The Haunted Man sighed, and took out his watcL " Couldn't ve do the rest of this another time ?" " My hour is almost spent, irreverent being, but there is yet a chance for your reformation. Come 1" Again they sped through the night, and again halted. The sound of delicious but melancholy music fell upon their ears. " I see," said the Haunted Man, with something of interest in his manner, " I see an old moss-covered manse beside a sluggish, flowing river. I see weird shapes: witches, Puritans, clergymen, little children, judges, mesmerized maidens, moving to the sound of melody that thrills me with its sweetness and purity. But, although carried along its calm .and evenly- flowing current, the shapes are strange and fidghtful : an eating lichen gnaws at the heart of each ; not only the clergymen, but witch, maiden, judge, and Puritan, all wear Scarlet Letters of some kind burned upon their hearts. I am fascinated and thrilled, but I feel a morbid sensitiveness creeping over me. I — I beg your pardon." The Goblin was yawning fiightfolly. " Well, perhaps, we had better go." " One more, and the last," said the G-oblin. They were moving home. Streaks of red were beginning to appear in the eastern sky. Along the banks of the blackly flowing river by ■ moorland and stagnant fens, by low houses, clustering close to the water's edge, like strange moUusks, crawled upon the beach to dry ; • by misty black barges, the more misty and THE HAUNTED MAN. 65 indistinct seen throTigli its mysterious veil, the river fog was slowing rising. So rolled away and rose from the heart of the Haunted Man, etc., etc. They stopped before a quaint mansion of red brick. The Goblin waved his hand without speaking. " I see," said the Haunted Man, " a gay drawing- room. I see my old friends of the club, of the col- lege, of society, even as they lived and moved. I see the gallant and unselfish men, whom I have loved, and the snobs whom I have hated. I see strangely mingling with them, and now and then blending with their forms, our old friends Dick Steele, Addison, and Congreve. I observe, though, that these gentle- men have a habit of getting too much in the way. The royal standard of Queen Anne, not in itself a beautiful ornament, is rather too prominent in the picture. The long. galleries of black oak, the formal furniture, the old portraits, are picturesque, but de- pressing. The house is damp. I enjoy myself bet- ter here on the lawn, where they are getting up a Vanity Fair. See, the bell rings, the curtaia is rising, the puppets are brought out for a new play. Let me see." The Haunted Man was pressing forward in his eagerness, but the hand of the Goblin stayed him, and .pointing to his feet, he saw between him and the rising curtain, a new-made grave. And bending above the grave in passionate grief, the Haunted Man beheld the phantom of the previous night ***** The Haunted Man started, and — ^woke. The 66 THE HAUNTED MAN. brigHt sunslune streamed into the room. Tlie air was sparkling with frost He ran joyously to the window and opened it A small boy saluted him with "Merry Christmas." The Haunted Man in- stantly gave him a Bank of England note. " How much like Tiny Tim, Tom and Bobby that boy looked — ^bless my soul, what a gemus this Dickens has!" A knock at the door, and Boots entered. " Consider your salary doubled instantly. Have you read David CopperfieMT' "Yezzur." " Your salary is quadrupled. "What do you thiuk of the Old Curiosity Shop ?" The man instantly burst into a torrent of tears, and then into a roar of laughter. " Enough ! Here are five thousand pounds. Open a porter-house, and call it, ' Our Mutual Friend.' Huzza 1 I feel so happy I" And the Haunted Man danced about the room. And so, bathed in the light of that blessed sun, and yet glowing with the warmth of a good action, the Haunted Man, haunted no longer, save by those shapes which make the dreams of children beautiful, reseated himself in his chair, and finished Our Mutual Friend, MISS MIX. BY CH-L-TTE BE-NTE. CHAPTEK L Mt earliest impressions are of a liuge, mis-sliapen rock, against wMeli the hoarse waves beat unceasing- ly. On this rock three pelicans are standing in a defiant attituda A dark sky lowers ia the back- gtound, while two sea-gulls and a gigantic cormorant eye with extreme disfavor the floating corpse of a drowned woman in the foreground. A few brace- lets, coral necklaces, and other articles of jewelry, scattered around loosely, complete this remarkable pictTore. It is one which, in some vague, unconscious way, symbolizes, to my fancy, the character of a man. I have never been able to explain exactly why. I think I must have seen the picture in some illustrated volume, when a baby, or my mother may have dreamed it before I was bom. 68 MISS MK. As a cMld I was not handsome. When I con- sulted the triangular bit of looking-glass which I always carried with me, it showed a pale, sandy and freckled face, shaded by locks like the color of sea- weed when the sun strikes it in deep water. My eyes were said to be indistinctive ; they were a feint, ashen gray ; but above them rose — ^my only beauty • — a high, massive, domelike forehead, with polished temples, like door-knobs of the purest porcelain. Our family was a family of governesses. My mother had been one, and my sisters had the same occupation. Consequently, when at the age of thir- teen, my eldest sister handed me the advertisement of Mr. Eawj ester, clipped from that day's Times, I accepted it as my destiny. Nevertheless, a mysteri- ous presentiment of an indefinite future haunted me in my dreams that night, as I lay upon my little snow-white bed. The next morning, with two band- boxes tied up in silk handkerchief, and a hair trunk, I turned my back upon Miuerva Cottage forever. CHAPTER n. Blundeeboee Hall, the seat of James Eawjester, Esq., was encompassed by dark pines and ftmereal hemlocks on all sides. The wind sang weirdly in the turrets and moaned through the long-drawn avenues of the park. As I approached the house I saw several mysterious figures flit before the wiadows, MISS ME. 69 and a yell of demoniac laughter answered my sum- mons at the belL While I strove to repress my gloomy forebodings, the housekeeper, a timid, scared looking old woman, showed me into the library. I entered, overcome with conflicting emotions. I was dressed in a narrow gown of dark serge, trimmed with black bugles. A thick green shawl was pinned across my breast. My hands were encased with black half-mittens worked with steel beads; on my feet were large paTttens, biiginally the property of my de- ceased grandmother. I carried a blue cotton um- brella. As I passed before a mirror, I could not help glancing at it, nor could I disguise fi:om myself the fact that I was not handsome. Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with folded hands, calmly awaiting the arrival of my mas- ter. Once or twice a fearful yell rang through the house, or the rattliag of chains, and curses uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon the oppressive .still- ness. I began to feel my soul rising with the emer- gency of the moment. "You look alarmed, miss.' You don't hear any- thing, my dear, do you?" asked the housekeeper nervously. " Nothing whatever," I remarked calmly, as a ter- rific scream, followed by the dragging of chairs and tables ia the room above, drowned for a moment my reply. "It is the silence, 'on the contrary, which has made me foolishly nervous." The housekeeper looked at me approvingly, and instantly made some tea for me. 70 MISS MIX. I drank seven cups ; as I was begmning the eighth, I heard a crash, and the next moment a man leaped into the room through the broken window. CHAPTER nx The crash startled me from my self-controL The housekeeper bent toward me and whispered : "Don't be excited. It's Mr. Eawjaster — ^he pre- fers to come in sometimes in this way. It's his playfulness, ha I ha ! ha 1" " I perceive,'' I said calmly. " It's the unfettered impulse of a lofty soul breaking the tyrannizing bonds of custom," and I turned toward him. - He had never once looked at me. He stood with his back to the fire, which set off the herculean breadth of his shoulders. His face was dark and ex- pressive ; his under jaw squarely formed, and re- markably heavy. I was struck with his remarkable likeness to a Gorilla. As he absently tied the poker into hard knots with his nervous fingers, I watched him with some interest Suddenly he turned toward me : " Do you think I'm handsome, young woman ?" ."Not classically beautiful," I returned calmly ; " but you have, if I may so express myself, an abstract manhness — a sincere and wholesome barbarity which, involving as it does the naturalness " — ^but I stopped, for he yawned at that moment — an action which sin- gularly developed the immense breadth of his lower MISS MIX. 71 jaw — and I saw lie had. forgotten ma Presently lie turned to the housekeeper : • "Leave us." The old woman withdrew with a courtesy. Mr. /Eawjester deliberately turned his back upon me and remained silent for twenty minutes. I drew my shawl the more closely around my shoulders and closed my eyes. " You are the governess ?" at length he said "I am, sir." "A creature who teaches geography, arithmetic, and the use of the globes — ha ! — a. wretched remnant of femininity — a. skimp pattern of girlhood with a premature flavor of tealeaves and morality. Ugh !" I bowed mj head silently. " Listen to me, girl I" he said sternly ; " this child you have come to teach — ^my ward — is not legitimate. She is the offspring of my mistress — a common har-' lot. Ah! Miss Mix, what do you think of me now ?" "I admire," I replied calmly, " your sincerity. A mawkish regard fdr delicacy might have kept this disclosure to yourself I only recognize ia your frankness that perfect community of thought and sentiment which should exist between original na- /tuxes." I looked up ; he had already forgotten my pres- ence, and was engaged in pulling off his boots and coat This done, he sank down in an arm-chair be- fore the fire, and ran the poker wearily through his hair. P«6uld not help pityiag him. 72 MISS MIX The wind howled dismally without, and the rain beat fariously against the windows. I crept toward him and seated myself on a low stool .b6side his chair. Presently he turned, without seeing me, and placed his foot absently in my lap. I affected not to notice it. But he started and looked down. " You here yet — Carrothead ? Ah, I forgot Do you speak French ?" "Om", Monsieur." " Taisez-vous I" he said sharply, with singular purity of accent I complied The wind moaned fearfolly in the chimney, and the light burned dim. I shuddered in spite of myself. " Ah, you tremble, girl !" " It is a fearful night. " ^ " Fearful ! OaU you this fearful, ha ! ha I ha ! 'Look! you wretched little atom, lookl" and _ he dashed forward, and, leaping out of the window, stood like a statue in the pelting storm, with folded arms. He did not stay long, but in a few minutes returned by way of the hall chimney. I saw from the way that he wiped his feet on my dress that he had again forgotten my presence. " You are a governess. What can you teach ?" he asked, suddenly and fiercely thrustiag his face in mine. " Manners 1" I replied calmly. "Hal teach me/" " You' mistake yourself," I said, adjusting my mit- tens. "Your manners require not theij^ifioial re- MISS ME. 73 straint of society. Yoti are radically polite; this impetaosity and ferociousness is simply the sincerity ■whicli is the basis of a proper deportment. Your in- stincts are moral ; your better nature, I see, is religious. As St. Paul justly remarks — see chap. 6, 8, 9 and 10—" He sei2;ed a heavy candlestick, and threw it at me. I dodged it submissively but firmly. " Excuse me," he remarked, as his under jaw slow- ly relaxed. " Excuse me. Miss Mix — ^but I can't stand St Paul! Enough — ^you are engaged." CHAPTEB rV. I FOLLOWED the housekeeper as she led the way timidly to my room. As we passed into a dark hall in the wing, I noticed that it was closed by an iroii gate with a grating. Three of the doors on the cor- ridor were likewise grated- A strange noise, as of shuffling feet, and the howling of infuriated animals rang through the halL Bidding the housekeeper good night, and taking the candle, I entered my bed- chamber. I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow flan- nel night-gown, which I could not help feeling did not agree with my complexion, I composed myself to rest by reading Blair's Rhetoric and Paki/s Moral Philosophy. I had just put out the light, when I heard yoices in the corridor. I listened attentively. I recognized Mr. Eawjester's stern tones. 4: 74 MISS MIX. "Have you fed No. 1?" he asked. "Yes sir," said a gruff voice, apparency belong- ing to a domestic. "How's No. 2?" " She's a little off her feed, just now, but will pick up in a day or two !" "And No. 3?" "Perfectly forious, sir. Hertantroms are ungov- ernabla" "Hush!" The voices died away, and I sank into a fitfal slumber. I .dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical forest. Suddenly I saw the figure of a gorilla approach- ing me. As it neared me, I recognized the features of Mr. Eawjester. He held his hand to his side as if in pain. I saw that he had been wounded. He rec- ognized me and called me by name, but at the same moment the vision changed to an Ashantee village, where, around the fire, a group of negroes were danc- ing and participating in some wild Obi festival I awoke with the strain still surging in my ears. Hokee-pokee wokee fiim I" Good Heavens! could I be dreaming? I heard the voice distinctly on the floor below, and smelt something burrdng. I arose, with an indistinct pre- sentiment of evil, and hastily putting some cotton in my ears and tying a towel about my head, I wrapped myself in a shawl and rushed down stairs. The door of Mr. Eawj ester's room was open. I entered. Mr. Ea'wjester lay apparently in a deepi slumber, Miss Mix saves the life of Mr. Rawjebtkk. {After Bkonte.) See page 75. MISS MIX. 75 from wMcli even, tlie clouds of smoke that came from the burning curtains of his bed could not rouse him. Around the room a large and powerful ne- gress, scantUy attired, with her head adorned with feathers, was dancing wildly, accompanying herself with bone castanets. It looked like some terrible fetich. I did not lose my calmness. After firmly empty- ing the pitcher, basin and slop-jar on the burning bed, I proceeded cautiously to the gajden, and, re- turning with the garden-engine, I directed a small stream at Mr. Eawjester. -^ At my entrance the gigantic negresa fled. Mr. Eawjester yawned and woke. I explained to him, as he rose dripping from the bed, the reason of my presence. He did not seem to be excited, alarmed or discomposed. He gazed at me curiously. " So you risked your life to save mine, eh ? you canary-colored teacher of infants ?" I blushed modestly, and drew my shawl tightly over my yellow flannel night-gown. " You love me, Mary Jane— don't deny it I This trembling shows it !" He drew me closely toward him, and said, with his deep voice tenderly modulat- ed: , " How's her pooty tootens — did she get her 'ittle tootens wet — ^bess her?" I understood his allusion to my feet. I glanced down and saw that in my hurry I had put on a paiir of his old India-rubbers. My feet were not small or pretty, and the addition did not g,dd to their beauty. 76 MISS MIX. " Let me go, sir," I remarked quietly.. " This is all improper ; it sets a bad example foi" yottr cMld ;" and I firmly but gently extricated myself from his grasp. I approached the door. He seemed for a moment buried in deep thought " You say this was a negress ?" "Yes, sir.'= " Humph, JSTo. 1, I suppose ?" " Who is Number One, sir ?" "My first," he remarked, with a significant and sarcastic smile. Then, relapsing into his old manner, he threw his boots at my head, and bade me begone. I withdrew eahnly. OHAPTEE V. Mt pupil was a bright little girl, who spoke. French with a perfect accent. Her mother had been a French ballet-dancer, which probably accounted for it Although she was only six years old, it was easy to perceive that she had been several times in love. She once said to me : " Miss Mix, did you ever have the grande passion ? Did you ever feel a fluttering here ?" and she placed her hand upon her small chest, and sighed, quaintly, " a kind of distaste for bonbons and caromels, when the world seemed as tasteless and hollow as a broken cordial drop." " Then you have felt it, Nina ?" I said quietly. " dear, yea There was Buttons — ^that was our page, you know — ^I loved him dearly, but papa sent MISS MIX 77 him away. Then there was Dick, the groom, but he laughed at me, and I suffered misery 1" and she struck a tragic French attitude. " There is to be company here to-morrow," she added, rattling on with childish nalveti, "and papa's sweetheai't — Blanche Marabout — is to be hera You know they say she is to be my mamma." What thrill -v^s this shot through me ? But I rose calmly, and administering a slight correction to the child, left the apartment. Blunderbore House, for the next week, was the scene of gaiety and merriment That portion of the mansion closed with a grating was walled up, and the midnight shrieks no longer troubled ma But I felt more keenly the degradation of my sit- uation. I was obliged to help Lady Blanche at her toilette and help her to look" beautifuL For what ? To captivate him ? Oh — ^no, no — ^but why this sud- den thrill and faintness ? Did he really love her ? I had seen him pinch and swear at her. But I re- flected that he had thrown a candlestick at my head, and my foolish heart was reassured. It was a night of festivity, when a sudden message obliged Mr. Eawjester to leave his guests for a few hours. " Make yourselves merry, idiots," he added, under his breath, as he passed me. The door closed and he was^one. An half hour passed. In the midst of the danc- ing a shriek was heard, and out of the swaying crowd of fainting women and excited men, a wild Sgure strode into the room. One glance showed it 78 MISS inx to be a higliwayinaii, heavily armed, holding a pis- tol in each hand- " Let no one pass out of this room I" he said, in a voice of thunder. " The house is surrounded and you cannot escape. The first- one who crosses yon- der threshold wiU be shot like a dog. Gentlemen, I'll trouble you to approach in single file, and hand me your purses and watches." * . Finding resistance useless, the order was ungra- ciously obeyed. " Now, ladies, please to pass up your jewelry and trinkets." This order was still more ungraciously complied with. As Blanche handed to the bandit captain her bracelet, she endeavored to conceal a diamond neck- lace, the gift of Mr. Eawj ester, in her bosom. But, with a demoniac grin, the powerful brute tore it firom its concealment, and administering a hearty box on the ear of the young girl, flung her aside. It was now my turn. With a beating heart, I made my way to the robber chieftain, and sank at his feet. " Oh, sir, I am nothing but a poor gover- ness, pray let me go." " Oh, ho I A governess ? Give me your last month's wages, then. Give me what you have sto- len firom your master !" and he laughed fiendishly. I gazed at him quietly, and said, in a low voice, "I have stolen nothing from you, Mr. Rawjesterl" " Ah, -discovered ! Hush ! listen, girl !" he hissed, in a fiercer whisper, " utter a syllable to frustrate my plans and you die — aid me, and — " but he was gona MISS MIX. 79 In a few moments tlie party, witli tlie exception of myself, were gagged and locked in the cellar. Tlie next moment torches were applied to the rich hang- ingSj and the house was in flames. I felt a strong hand seize me, and bear me out in the open air and place me upon the hillside, where I could overlook the burning mansion. It was Mr. Eawjester. " Burn 1" he said, as he shook his fist at the flames. Then sinking on his knees before me, he said hur- riedly : "Mary Jane, I love you; the obstacles to our. union are or will be soon removed- In yonder man- sion were confined my three crazy wives. One of them, as you know, attempted to Mil me ! Ha I this is vengeance ! But will you be mine ?" I feE, without a word, upon his. neck. GUT HEAYYSTOIE; OR, "ENTIEE." % Purato ^M. BY THE ATJTHOE OF " SWORD AND GUK." CHAPTEE L " Nerei repandirostrum incnrvioervictun peons." A DINGY, swashy, splashy afternoon in October ; a sctool-yard filled with a mob of riotous boys. A lot of ns standing outside. Suddenly came a dull, crashjng sound from the school-room. At the ominous interruption I shud- dered involuntarily, and called to Smithsye : " What's up, Smithums ?" " G-uy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied. At the same moment George de Coverly passed me, holding his nose, from whence the bright Nor- GITT HEAVYSTONE. 8l man blood streamed redly. To Mm the plebeian Smithsye laugMngly : " Cully ! bow's bis nibs ?" I pusbed the door of tbe scbool-room open. Tbere are some spectacles wbicb a man never forgets. Tbe burning of Troy probably seemed a large-sized con- flagration to tbe pious ^neas, and made an impres- sion on Mm wMcb be carried away witb tbe feeble AncMses. In tbe centre of tbe room, Hgbtly brandisbing tbe piston-rod of a steam engine, stood Gruy Heavy- stone alone. I say alone, for tbe pile of small boys on tbe floor in tbe comer could hardly be called company. I win try and sketch him for tbe reader. Guy Heavystone was then only fifteen. His broad, deep chest, his sinewy and quivering flank, his straight pastern showed him to be a thorough-bred. Perhaps be was a trifle heavy in the fetlock, but be held his bead haughtily erect His eyes were glittering but pitiless. Tbere was a sternness about the lower part of Ms face — the old Heavystone look-^ sternness, heightened, perhaps, by tbe snaffle-bit wMcb, in one of bis strange freaks, be wore in bis mouth to curb bis oc- casional ferocity. His dress was well adapted to bis square set and herculean frame. A striped knit un- dershirt, close fitting striped tigbtS, and a few span- gles set off his figure ; a neat Grlengarry cap adorned Ms head. On it was displayed the Heavystone crest, a cock regardant on a dunghill or, and the motto, " Devil a better !" 82 GUT HEAVYSTOKE. I thoiiglit of Horatius on tte bridge, of Hector before the walls. I always make it a point to think of something classical at such times. He saw me, and his sternness partly relaxed. Something like a smile straggled through his grim lineaments. It was like looking on the Jungfrau after having seen Mont Blanc — a trifle, only a 1;rifle less sublime and awful. Eesting his hand lightly on the shoulder of the head-master, who shuddered and collapsed under his touch, he strode toward me. His walk was peculiar. You could not call it a stride. It was like the " crest-tossing Bellerophon" — a kind of prancing gait Gruy Heavystone pranced toward me. CHAPTER n. "Lord Lovel he stood at the garden gate, A-combiug his milk-white steed." It was the winter of 186-, when I next met Guy Heavystone. He had left'the University and had entered the 76th "Heavies." "I have exchanged the gown for the sword, you see," he said, grasping my hand, and fracturing the bones of my little fin- ger, as he shook it." I gazed at him with unmixed admiration. He was squarer, sterner anH. in every way smarter and more remarkable than ever. I began to feel toward this man as Phalaster felt towards Phyrgino, as somebody must have felt toward Archididasculus, as Boswell felt toward Johnson. GOT HEAYYSTONE. 83 " Come into my den," lie said, and lifting me gen- tly by the seat of my pantaloons, he carried me up stairs and deposited me, before I could apologize, on the sofa. I looked around the room. It was a bachelor's apartment, characteristically furnished in the taste, of the proprietor. A few claymores and battle-axes were ranged against the wall, and a cul- verin, captured by Sir Ealph Heavystone, occupied the comer, the other end of the room being taken up by a light battery. Foils, boxing-gloves, saddles and fishing-poles lay around carelessly. A small pile of billets-doux lay upon a silver salver. The man was not an anchorite, nor yet a Sir Galahad. I never could tell what Gruy thought of women. " Poor little beasts," he would often say when the conversation turned on any of his fresh conquests. Then, passing his hand over his marble brow, the old look of stem fixedness of purpose and unflinch- ing severity would straighten the lines of his mouth, and he would mutter, half to himself, " S'death 1" "Come with me to* Heavystone Grange. The Exmoor Hounds throw off to-morrow. I'll give you a mount," he said, as he amused himself by rolling up a silver candlestick between his fingers. " You shall have Cleopatra. But stay," he added, thought- fully; " now I remember, I ordered Cleopatra to bA shot this morning." "And why?" I queried. " She threw her rider yesterday and fell on him — " "AndkUledhim?" " No. That's the reason why I have ordered her 84 , GUY HEAYSrSTONE. to be sliot I keep no animals that are not danger- ous — I should add — deadly T He hissed the last sentence between his teeth, and a gloomy frown de- scended over his calm brow. I affected to turn over the tradesman's bills that lay on the table; for, like all of the Heavystone race, Guy seldom paid cash, and said : " You remind me of the time when Leon- idas " " 0, bother Leonidas and your classical allusiona Come !" We descended to dinner. CHAPTEB in. ' He carries weight, he rides a race, "Tis foi a thousand pound." " Theee is Flora Billingsgate, the greatest coquette and hardest rider in the country," said my compan- ion, Ealph Mortmain, as we stood upon Dingleby Common before the meet I looked up and beheld Guy Heavystone bending haughtily over the saddle, as he addressed a beauti- fdl brunette. She was indeed a splendidly groomed and high-spirited woman. , We were near enough to overhear the following conversation, which any high- toned reader will recognize as the common and nat- ural expression of the higher classes. " When Diana takes the field the chase is not GUY HEATYSTOKE. 85 ■wholly confined to objects /erce naturm" said Guy, darting a significant glance at his companion. Flora did not~shrink either fi^om the glance or the meaning implied in the sarcasm. " If I were looking for an Endymion, now — " she said archly, as she playfully cantered osc^x a few hounds and leaped a five-barred gate. Guy whispered a few words, inaudible to the rest of the party, and curvetting slightly, cleverly cleared two of the huntsmen in a flying leap, galloped up the firont steps of the mansion, and dashing at full speed through the hall, leaped through the di-aWing- room window and rejoined me, languidly, on the lawn. " Be careful of Flora Billingsgate," he said to me, in low stem tones, while his pitiless eye shot a bale- ful fire. " Qardez vous /" " GnotM seauion," I replied calmly, not-wishing to appear to be behind him in perception or verbal feli- city. Guy started off in high spirita He was well car- ried. He and the first whip, a ten-stone man, were head and head at the last fence, while the hounds were rolHng over their fox, a hundred yards farther in the open. But an unexpected circumstance occurred. Com- ing back, his chestnut mare refused a ten-foot wall. She reared and fell backward. Again he led her up to it lightly ; again she refused, falling heavily from the coping. Guy started to his feet The old piti- less fire shone in his eyes ; the old stern look settled 86 GUY HEAVY8T0NE. around Ms moutli. Seizing the mare by the tail and mane he threw -her over the -wall She landed twen- ty feet on the other side, erect aiid trembling. Lightly leaping the same obstacle himself, he re- mounted her. She did not refuse the wall the next time. CHAPTEB IV. " He holds him by his glittering eye." GtTT was in the north of Ireland, cock-shooting. So Ralph Mortmain told me, and also that the match between Mary Brandagee and Gruy had been broken off by Flora BilUiigsgate. " I don't like those Bil- lingsgates," said Ralph, " they're a bad stock. Her father, Smithfield de Billingsgate, had an unpleasant way of turning up the knave frcTm the bottom of the pack. But nous verrons; let us go and see Gruy." The next morning we started for Pin-ma-Coul's Crossing. When I reached the shooting-box, where Guy was -entertaining a select company of fiiends, Flora Billingsgate greeted me with a saucy smile. "Guy was even squarer and sterner than ever. His gusts of passion were more frequent, and it was with ^difficulty that he could keep an able-bodied- servant in his family. His present retainers were more or less maimed from exposure to the fury of their master. There was a strange cynicism, a cut- ting sarcasm in his address piercing through his polished manner. I thought of Timon, etc., etc. GXJT HEAVYSTONK 87 One evening, we were sitting over onr Ohambertin, after a hard day's work, and Guy was listlessly turning over some letters, wlien suddenly he ut- tered a cry. Did you ever hear the trumpeting of a wounded elephant ? It was like that. I looked at him with consternation. He was glancing at a letter which he held at arm's length, and snorting, as it were, at it as he gazed. The lower part of his face was stem, but,not as rigid as usual. He was slowly grinding between his teeth the fragments of the glass he had just been drinking from. Suddenly, he seized one of his servants, and, forcing the wretch upon his knees, exclaimed with the roar of- a tiger: " Dog ! why was this kept from me ?" " Why, please, sir, Miss Flora said as how it was a reconciliation, from Miss Brandagee, and it was to be kept from you where you would not be likely to see it — and — and " " Speak, dog ! and you " " I put it among your bills, sir !" With a groan, like distant thunder, Gruy fell swooning to the floor. He soon recovered, for the nexf moment a servant came rushing into the room with the information that a number of the ingenuous peasantry of the neighborhood were about to indulge that evening in the national pastime of burning a farmhouse and shooting a landlord. Gruy smiled a fearful smile, without, however, altering his stern and pitiless ex- pression. 88 GUT HEAYYSTOOT!. "Let them come," he said calmly; "I feel like entertaining company." "We barricaded the doors and windows, and then chose our arms from the armory. Guy's choice was a singular one : it was a landing net with a long handle, and a sharp cavalry sabre. We were not destined to remain long in ignorance of its use. A howl was heard from without, and a party of fifty or sixty armed men precipitated them- selves against the door. Suddenly the window opened. With the rapidity of lightning,. Guy Heavystone cast the net over the head of the ring-leader, ejaculated " Habet /" and with a back stroke of his cavalry sabre, severed the member from its trunk, and drawing the net back again, cast the gory head upon the floor, saying quietly : " One." Again the net was cast, the steel flashed, the net was withdrawn. and an ominous " Two !" accompan- ied the head as it rolled on the floor. " Do you remember what Pliny says of the gladia- tor?" said Guy, calmly wiping his sabre. "How graphic is that passage commencing : ' Inter nos, etc' " The sport continued until the heads of twenty des- peradoes had been gathered in. The rest seemed inclined to disperse. Guy incautiously showed him- self at the door ; a ringing shot was heard, and he staggered back pierced through the heart Grasping the door post in the last unconscious throes of his mighty frame, the whole side of the house yielded to GUY HEAVYSTONE. 89 that earthquake tremor, and we had barely time to 'escape before the whole building fell in ruins. I thought of Samson, the Giant Judge, etc., etc. ; but all was over. Gruy Heavystone had died as- he had lived — hard. MR. HDSHIPMAK BREEZY. ^Ifalral (B ft it it. BY CAPTAIN M-E E Y-T, B. N. CHAPTER L Mt father was a nortli-country siirgeon. He had retired, a -widower, from her Majesty's navy many years before, and had a small practice in Ms native village. When I was seven years old he employed me to carry medicines to his patients. Beiag of a lively disposition, I sometimies amused myself, during' my daily rounds, by mixing the contents of the dif- ferent phials. Although I had no reason to doubt that the general result of this practice was beneficial, yet, as the death of a consumptive curate followed the addition of a strong mercurial lotion to his expecto- rant, my father concluded to withdraw me from the profession and send me to school. Grubbins, the schoolmaster, was a tyrant, and it was not long befi)re my impetuous and self-willed na- ture rebelled against his authority. I soon began to ME. IDDSHrPMAH BBEEZY. 91 form plans of revenge. In this I was assisted by Tom Snaffle — a scLoolfellow. One day Tom sug- gested : " Suppose we blow bim up. I've got two pounds of powder !" " No, that's too noisy," I replied. , Tom was silent for a miaute, and again spoke : "You remember h.ow you flattened out the curate, Pills ! Couldn't you give.Grrubbins something — some- thing to make him leathery sick — eh ?" A flash of inspiration crossed my mind. I went to the shop of the village, apothecary. He knew me ; I had often purchased vitriol, which I poured into Grubbins's inkstand to corrode his pens and burn up his coat-tail, on which he was in the habit of wiping them. I boldly asked for an ounce of chloroform. The young apothecary winked and handed me the bottle. It was Grubbins's custom to throw his handker- chief over his head, recline in his chair and take a short nap during recess. Watching my opportunity, as he dozed, 1 managed to slip his handkerchief from his face and^ substitute my own, moistened with chlo- rcrform. In a few minutes he was insensible. Tom and I then quickly shaved his head, beard and eye- brows, blackened' his face with a mixture of vitriol and burnt cork, and fled. There was a row and scandal the next day. My father always excused me by asserting that Grubbins had got drunk-^but somehow found it convenient to procure me an ap- pointment in Her Majesty's navy at an early day. 92 ME. MIDSHIPMAN EEEEZT. CHAPTER n, Asr official letter, witli the Admiralty seal, informed me that I was expected to join H. M. sMp Belcher, Captain Boltrope, at Portsmouth, without delay. In a few days I presented myself to a tall, stern-visaged man, who was slowly pacing the leeward side of the quarter-deck. As I touched my hat he eyed me sternly : " So ho I Another yotmg suckHug. The service is going to the devil. Nothing but babes in the cockpit and grannies in the board. Boatswain's mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek !" Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched his hat '" Introduce Mr. Breezy to the young gentlemen. Stop ! Where's Mr. Swizzle ?" " At the masthead, sir." "Where's Mr. Lankey?" "At the masthead, sir." "Mr.Briggs?" " Masthead, too, sir." " And the rest of the young gentlemen ?" roared the enraged officer. "All masthead, sir.". " Ah !" said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled grimly, " under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, you had bet- ter go to the masthead too." ME. MTDHTrrPM-AN BBEEZY. 98 CHAPTKE m. At the mastliead I made tlie acquaintance of two youngsters of about my own age, one of whom in- formed me that he had been there 332 days out of the year. " In rough weather, when the old cock is out of sorts, you know, we never come down," added a young gentleman of nine years, with a dirk nearly as long as himself, who had been introduced to me as Mr. Briggs. "By the way. Pills," he continued, " how did you come to omit giving the captain a naval salute?" " Why, I touched my hat/' I said, innocently. "Yes, but that isn't enough, you know. That will do very well at other times. He expects the the naval salute when you first come on board — greeny !" I began to feel alarmed, and begged him to explain. "Why, you see, after touching your hat, you should have touched him lightly with yoiir forefinger in his waistcoat, so, and asked ' How's his nibs ?' — you see ?" "How's his nibs?" I repeated. " Exactly. He would have drawit back a little, and then you should have repeated the salute remarking 'How's his royal nibs? ' asking cautiously after his wife and family, and requesting to be intro- duced to the gunner's daughter." " The gunner's daughter ?" 94 ME. MIDSHIPMAN BKEEZY. " The same; you know slie takes carfe of us young gentlemen ; now don't forget, POlsy 1" When we were called down to the deck I thought it a good chance to profit by this instruction. I approached Captain Boltrope and repeated the salute , without conscientiously omitting a single detail. He remained for a moment, livid and speechless. At length he gasped out : " Boatswain's mate ?" "If you please, sir," I asked, tremulously, "I should like to be introduced to the gunner's daughter !" "O, very good, sir!" screamed Captain Boltrope, rubbing his hands and absolutely capering about the deck with rage. " d — ^n you I Of course you shall ! ho ! the gunner's daughter 1 0, h — ^11 ! this is too muchl Boatswain's mate I" Before I well knew where I was, I was seiiied, borne to an eightpounder, tied upon it and flogged I CHAPTER IV. As we sat together in the cockpit, picking the weevils out of our biscuit, Briggs consoled me for my late mishap, adding that the " naval salute," as a cus- tom, seemed just then to be honored more in the hreach than the observance. I joined m the hilarity., occasioned by the witticism, and in a few moments we were all friends. Presently Swizzle turned to me: ME. TVnDSTTTPIvrAW BEEEZT. 95 " "We have heen just planiag how to confiscate a keg of claret, which Nips, the purser, keeps under his bunk. The old nipcheese lies there drunk half the day, and there's no getting at it" "Let's get beneath the stateroom and bore through the deck, and so tap it," said Lankey. The proposition was received with a shout of ap- plause. A long half-inch auger and bit was procured from Chips, the carpenter's mate, and Swizzle, after a careful examiaation of the timbers beneath the ward- room, commenced operations. The auger at last dis- appeared, when suddenly there was a slight disturb- ance on the deck above. Swi2;zle withdrew the auger hurriedly; from its poiat a few bright red drops trickled. " Huzza ! send her up again !" cried Lankey. The augenwas again applied. . This time a shriek was heard from the purser's cabin. Instantly the light was doused, and the party retreated hurriedly to the cockpit A sound of snoring was heard as the sentry stuck his head into the door. " All right, sir," he replied in answer to the voice of the officer of the deck. The next morning we heard that Nips was ia the surgeon's hands, with a bad wound in the fleshy part of his leg, and that the auger had not struck claret QHAPTEK v. " Now, Pills, you'll have a chance to smeU pow- der." said Briggs as h^ entered the cockpit and 96 MR. DODSHIPIIAN BBEEZI. buckled around Ms waist an enormous cutlass. " We haye just sighted a Frencli sHp." "We went on deck. Captain Boltrope grinned as we touched our hats. He hated the purser. . " Come, young gentlemen, if you're boring for French. claret, yonder's a good quality. Mind your con, sir," he added, turning to the quartermaster, who was grin- ning. The ship was already cleared for action. The men, in their eagerness, had started the coffee from the the tubs and filled them with shot Presently the Frenchman yawed, and a shot from a long thirty-two came skipping over the water. It killed the quarter- master and took off both of Lankey's legs. " Tell the purser our account is squared," said the dying boy, with a feeble smUe. The fight raged fiercely for two hours. I remem- ber killing the French Admiral, as we boarded, but on looking around for Briggs, after the smoke had cleared away, I was intensly amused at witnessing the following noTel sight : » Briggs had pinned the French captain against the mast with his cutlass, and was now engaged, with all the hilarity of youth, in pulling the captain's coat- tails between his legs, in imitation of a dancing-jack. As the Frenchman lifted his legs and arms, at each jerk of Briggs's, I could not help participating in the general mirth. "You young devil, what are you doing? " said a stifled voice behind me. I looked up and beheld Captain Boltrope, endeavoring to calm his stern fea- ME. MIDSHIPMAN BEEEZY. 97 - tares, but the twitching around Ms mouth betrayed his intense enjoyment of the scene. "Go to the masthead — up with you, sir !" he repeated sternly to Briggs. " Very good, sir," said the boy, coolly preparing to mount the shrouds. "Good-bye, Johnny Orapaud. Humph 1" he added, in a tone intended for my ear, " A pretty way to treat a hero-^the service is going to the devil I" I thought so too. CHAPTEB VI. We were ordered to the West Indies. Although Captain Boltrope's manner toward me was still se- vere and even harsh, I understood. that my name had been favorably mentioned in the dispatches. Eeader were you ever at Jamaica. If so, you re- member the negresses, the oranges. Port Eoyal Tom — ^the yellow fever. After being two weeks at the station, I was taken sick of the fever. In a month I was delirious. During my paroxysms, I had a wild distempered-dream of a stern face bending anxiously over my pillow, a rough hand smoothing my hair, and a kind voice saying : " Bess his 'ittle heart ! Did he have the naughty fever !" This face seemed again changed to the weU- known stern features of Captain Boltrope. When I was convalescent, a packet edged in black was put hi my hand. It contained the news of my 5 98 ME. mDSHrPMiN BEEEZY. father's death, and a sealed letter wMcli lie liad reques- ted to be given to me on his deceasa I opened it tremblingly. It read thus : "My Dear Boy: — ^I regret to inform yon that in all probability yoa are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to say, was a highly improper person. Who your fiither may be, I really can- not say, but perhaps the Honorable Heniy Boltrope, Captain B. N., may be able to inform you. Circumstances oyer which I have no control, have deferred this important disclosure. • YOUB StBIOBBN PiJlENT." And so Captain Boltrope was my father. Heavens I "Was it a dream ? I recalled his stem manner, his observant eye ; his ill-concealed uneasiness when in my presence. I longed to embrace him. Stagger- ing to my feet I rushed in my scanty apparel to the deck where Captain Boltrope was just then engaged in receiving the Governor's wife and daughter. The ladies shrieked; the youngest, a beautiful girl, blushed deeply. Heeding them not, I sank at his feet and embracing them cried : "My Father!" "Chuck him overboard I" roared Captain Bolt- ropa " Stay," pleaded the soft voice of Clara Maitland, the Governor's daughter. " Shave his head I he's a wretched lunatic I" con- tinued Captain Boltrope, while his voice trembled with excitement " No, let me nurse and take care of him," said the lovely girl, blusMng as she spok& " Mamma, can't we take him home." ME. MIDSHIPMAN BEEEZY. 99 The daughter's pleading was not witliout effect In the meantime I had fainted. "When I recovered my senses I found myself in Grov^mor Maitland's mansion. OHAPTEB YIL The reader will guess what followed I fell deep- ly in love with Clara Maitland, to whom I confided the secret of my birth. The generous :girl asserted that she had detected the superiority of my manner at onca We plighted our troth, and resolved to wait upon events. Briggs called to see me a few days afterward. He said that the purser had insulted the whole cock- pit, and all the midshipmen had called him out But he added thoughtfally : "I don't see how we can arrange the duel. You see there are six of us to fight him." "Very easily," I replied. "Let your fellows all stand in a row, and take his fire ; that, you see, gives him six chances to one, and he must be a bad shot if he can't hit one of you ; while, on the other hand, you see, he gets a volley fi-om you six, and one of you'll be certain to fetch, him." "Exactly;" and away Briggs went, but soon re- turned to say that the purser had declined — "like, a d — d coward," he added. But the news of the sudden and serious illness of Captain Boteope put off the dueL I hastened to his 100 ME. MIDSHIPMAN BEEEZY. bedside, but too late— an hour previous be bad giv- en up tbe ghost I resolved to return to England. I made known tbe secret of my birth, and exhibited my adopted father's letter to Lady Maitland, who at once sug- gested my marriage with her daughter, before I re- turned to claim the property. We were married,, and took our departure next day. I made no delay in posting at once, in company with my wife and my friend Briggs, to my native village. Judge of my horror and surprise when my late adopted father came out of his shop to welcome me. " Then you are not dead !" I gasped. " No, my dear boy." "And this letter?". My father — as I mast still call him — ^glanced on the paper, and pronounced it a forgery. Briggs roared with laughter. I turned to him and demanded an explanation. " Why, don't you see. Greeny, it's all a joke — ^a midshipman's joke !" "But "I asked, "Don't be a fooL You've got a good wife — ^be satisfied." I turned to Clara, and was satisfied. Although Mrs. Maitland never forgave me, the jolly- old Gov- ernor laughed heartily over the joke, and so well tised his influence that I soon became, dear reader, Admiral Breezy, K. 0. B. JOHN JENKINS; BY T. 8. A-TH-B. CHAPTER I. " One cigar a day !" said Judge Boompointer. " One cigar a day !" repeated Jolin Jenkins, as with trepidation lie dropped his half-consumed cigar un- der his work-bench. " One cigar a day is three cents a day," remarked Judge Boompointer, gravely, " and do you know, sir, what one cigar a day, or three cents a day, amounts to in the course of four years ?" John Jenkins, in his boyhood, had attended the village school, and possessed considerable arithme- tical ability. Taking up a shingle which lay upon his work-bench, and producing a piece of chalk, with a feeling of conscious pride he made an exhaus- tive calculation : " Exactly forty three dollars and eighty cents," he replied, wiping the perspiration from his heated 102 JOHN JENEINS. brow, while Ms face flushed with honest enthu- siasm. " Well, sir, if you saved three cents a day, in- stead of wasting it, you would now be the pos- sessor of a new suit of clothes, an illustrated Fam- ily Bible, a pew in the church, -a complete set of Patent Of&ce Eeports, a hymn-book, and a paid subscription to Arthur's Home Magazine, which could be purchased for exactly forty -three dollars and eigh- ty cents — and," added the Judge, with increasing sternness, " if you - calculate leap-year, which you seem to haye strangely omitted — ^you have three cents more, sir; three cents more/" "What would that buy you, sir ?" "A cigar," suggested John JenMns; but, coloring again deeply, he hid his face. " Ho, sir," said the Judge, with a sweet smile of benevolence stealing over his stem features ; " pro- perly invested, it would buy you that which passeth all price. Dropped into the missionary box, who can tell what heathea, now idly and joyously wan- toning in nakedness and sin, might be brought to a sense of his miserable condition, and made, through that three cents, to feel the torments of the wick- ed?" With these words the Judge retired, leaving John Jenkins buiied in profound thought " Three cents a day," he muttered, "In forty years I might be worth four hundred and thirty-eight dollars and ten cents — and then I might marry Mary. Ah, Mary !" The young carpenter sighed, and drawing a twenty-" JOHN JENKINS. 103 five cent daguerreotype from Ms vest pocket, gazed long and fervidly upon the features of a young girl in book muslin and a coral necklace. Then, with a resolute expression, he carefully locked the door of his workshop and departed. Alas ! his good resolutions were too late. We tri- fle with the tide of fortune which too often nips us in the bud and casts the dark shadow of mis- fortune over the bright lexicon of youth ! That night the half-consumed fragment of John Jenkins's cigar set fire to his work-shop and burned it up, to- gether with all his tools and materials. There was no insuranca CHAPTEB n. THE DO'WNWABD PATH. " Then you still persist in marrying John Jen- kins?" queried Judge Boonipointer, as he play- fully, with paternal familiarity, lifted the golden curls of the village belle, Mary Jones. "I do," replied the fair young girl, in a low voice, that resembled rock candy in its saccharine firmness; "I do. He has promised to reform. Since he lost all his property by fire " " The result of his pernicious habit, though he illogically persists in charging it to me," interrupted the Judge. " Since then," continued the young girl, " he haa 104 JOHN JENKINS. endeavored to break himself of tlie habit. . He tells me that lie has substituted the stalks of the Indian r.atnn the outer part of a leguminous plant called the smoking-bean, and the fragmentary and uncon- sumed remainder of cigars which occur at rare and uncertain intervals along the road, which, as he informs me, though deficient in quality and strength, are comparatively inexpensive." And, blushing at her own eloquence, the young girl hid her curls on the Judge's arm. "Poor thing," muttered Judge Boompointer. " Dare I tell her all ? Yet I must." " I shall cling to him," continued the young girl, rising with her theme, " as the young vine clings to some hoary ruin. Nay, nay, chide me not, Judge Boompointer. I will marry John Jenkins !" The Judge was evidently affected. Seating him- self at the table, he wrote a few lines hurriedly upon a piece of paper, which he folded and placed in the fingers of the destined J)ride of John Jenlrihs. "Mary Jones," said the Judge, with impressive earnestness, "take this trifle. as a wedding gift from one who respects your fidelity and truthfalness. At the altar let it be a reminder of me." And covering his face hastily with a handkerchief, the stem and iron-willed man left the room. As the door closed, Mary unfolded the paper, ft was an order on the corner grocery for three yards of flannel, a paper of needles, four pounds of soap,- one pound of starch, and two boxes of matches ! " Noble and thoughtful man I" was all Mary Jones JOHN JENKINS. 105 could exclaim, as slie hid her face in her liands and burst into a flood of tears. ********* The beUs of Cloverdale are ringing merrily. It is a wedding. " How beautiful they look !" is the ex clamation that passes- from lip to lip, as Mary Jones, leaning timidly on the arm of John Jenkins, enters the church. But the bride is agitated, and the bride- groom betrays a feverish nervousness. As they stand in the vestibule, John Jenkins fumbles ear- nestly in his vest pocket Can it be the ring he is anxious about ? No. He draws a small brown sub- stance from his po«ket, and biting off a piece, hastily replaces the fragment and gazes furtively 'around. Surely no one saw him ? Alas ! the eyes of two of that wedding party saw the fatal act. Judge Boompointer shook his head sternly. Mary Jones sighed and breathed a silent prayer. Her husband chewed ! OHAPTEK in. AND LAST. " "What ! more bread ?" said John Jenkins, gruffly. " You're always asking for money for bread. D — ^na- tion! Do you want to ruin me by your extrava- gance?" and as he uttered these words he drew from his pocket a bottle of whisky, a pipe and a paper of tobacco. Emptying the first at a draught, he threw the empty bottle at the head of his eldest boy, a youth of twelve summers. The missile struck the child 106 JOHN JENKINS. full in the temple, and stretched liina a lifeless corpse. Mrs. Jenldns, wliom the reader will hardly recog- as the once gay and beautiful Mary Jones, raised the dead body of her son in her arms, and, carefully placing the unfortunate youth beside the pump in the back-yard, returned with saddened step to the house. At another time, and in brighter days, she might have wept at the occurrence. She was past tears now. " Father, your conduct is reprehensible !" said lit- tle Harrison Jenkins, the youngest boy. "Where do you expect to go when you die ?" "Ah!" said John Jenkins, fiercely; "this comes of giving children a liberal education; this is the re- sult of Sabbath schools. Down, viper!" A tumbler thrown from the same parental fist laid out the youthful Harrison cold. The four other chil- dren had, in the meantime, gathered around the table with anj:ious expectancy. "With a chuckle, the now changed and brutal John Jenkins produced four pipes, and, filling them with tobacco, handed one to each of his offspring and bade them smoke. ~" It's better than bread !" laughed the wretch hoarsely. Mary Jenkins, though of a patient nature, felt it her duty now to speak. " I have borne much, John Jenkins," she said. "But I prefer that the children should not smoke. It is an unclean hab- it,, and soils their clothes. I ask this as a spe- cial favor! John Jenkins hesitated — ^the pangs of remorse be- gan to seize him. JOHN JENKINS. 107 " Promise me this, Jonn !" urged Mary upon her knees. "I promise!" reluctantly answered John. "And you will put the money in a savings bank?" ■ I will," repeated her husband ; " and Til give U.JJ smoking, too." " Tis well, John Jenkins !" said Judge Boompoint- er, appearing suddenly from behind the door, where he had been concealed during this iaterview. " No- bly said ! my man. Cheer up ! I will see that the children are decently buried." The husband and wife fell into each other's arms. And Judge Boom- pointer, gazing upon the aifecting spectacle, burst into tears. From that day John Jenkins was an altered man. NO TITLE. BT W-LK-E C-LL-NS. PROLOGUE. The following advertisement appeared in the In^ of the 17th of June, 1845 : TFANTED. — A few young men for a light genteel employment. iV Address J. W., P. O. In the same paper, of yame date, in another column : CO LET. — That commodious and elegant family mansion, No. 27 Limehouse Eoad, Pultneyville, will be rented low to a re- pectable tenant if applied for immediately, the family being bout to remove to the continent. Under the local intelligence, in another column : MissiNO. — An unknown elderly gentleman a week ago left his idgings in the Kent Koad, since which nothing has been henrd " him. He left no trace of his identity except a portmanteau mtaining a couple of shirts marked "209, Waed." To find the connection between the mysterious dis- ppearance of the elderly gentleman and the anohy- lous communication, the relevancy of both, these icidents to the letting of a commodious family man- NO TITLE. 109 sion, and tlie dead secret involved in the three occur- rences, is the task of the writer of this history. A slim young man with spectacles, a large hat, drab gaiters, and a note-book, sat late that night with a copy of the Times before him, and a pencil which he rattled nervously between his teeth in the coffee' room of the "Blue Dragon." CHAPTER I. MABY JONES S TSXEBiXTTE. I AM upper housemaid to -the femily that live at No. 27 Limehouse Eoad, Pultneyville. I have been requested by Mr. Wilkey Colhngs, which I takes the liberty of here stating is a gentleman bom and bred, and has some consideration for the feehngs of ser- vants, and is not above rewarding them for their trouble, which is more than you can say for some who ask questions and gets short answers enough, gracious knows, to tell what I know about them. I have been requested to tell my story in my own lan- gwidge, though, being no schoUard, mind cannot con- ceive. I think my master is a brute. Do not know that he has ever attempted to poison my missus — which is too good for him, and how she ever came to marry him, heart only can tell — ^but believe him to be capable of any such hatrosity. Have heard him swear dreadful because of not having bis shaving 110 NO TITLE. water at 9 o'clock precisely. Do not know wlietlier lie ever forged a will or tried to get my missus' prop- erty although, not having confidence in the man, should not be surprised if he had done so. Believe that there was always soinething mysterious in his conduct Eemember distinctly how the family left home to go abroad. Was putting up my back hair, last Saturday morning, when I heard a ring. Says cook, " That's missus' bell, and mind you hurry or the master 'ill know why." Says I, " Humbly thank- ing you mem, but taking advice of them as is com- petent to give it, I'll take my time." Found missus dressing herself and master growling as usuaL Says missus, quite calm and easy like, " Mary, we begin to pack to-day." " What for, mem," says I, taken aback. "What's that hussy asking?" says master from the bedclothes quite savage like. "For the Continent— 'Italy," says missus — " Can yougo Mary ?" Her voice was quite gentle and saintlike, but I knew the struggle it cost, and says I, "With you mem, to India's torrid chme, if required, but with African Gorillas," says I, looking toward the bed, " never." " Leave the room," says master, starting up and catching of his bootjack. " Why Charles !" says missus, " how you talk !" affecting surprise. " Do go Mary," says she, slipping a half-crown into my hand. I left the room scorning to take notice of the odious wretch's conduct Cannot say. whether my master and missus were ever legally married. What with the dreadful state of morals now-a-days and them stories in the circulat- NO TITLE. Ill ing libraries, innocent girls don't know into what society they might be obliged to take situations. Never saw missus' marriage certificate, tbongb I have quite accidental-like looked in her desk when open, and would have seen it. Do not know of any lovers missus might have had. Beheve she had a liking for John Thomas, footman, for she was always spitefdl-like — ^poor lady — ^when we were together — though there was nothing between ns, as Cook well knows, and dare not deny, and missus needn't have been jealous. Have never seen arsenic or Prussian acid in any of the private drawers — ^but have seen paregoric and camphor. One of my master's fiiends was a Count Moscow, a Eussian papist — ^which- I detested. CHAPTER n. THE SUM TOima UAH S STOBY. I AM by profession a reporter, and writer for the press. I live at Pultneyville. I have always had a passion for the marvelous, and have been distin- guished for my facility in tracing out mysteries, and solving enigmatical occurrences. On the night of the 17th June, 1845, I left my office and walked honieward. The night was bright and starlight. T was revolving in my mind the words of a singular item I had just read in the Times. I had reached the dark- est portion of the road, and found myself mechan- ically repeating : " An elderly gentleman a week ago 112 NO ITTLE. left his lodgings on tlie Kent Eoad," when suddenly I heard a step behind me. I turned quickly, with an expression of horror in my face, and by the light of the newly risen moon beheld an elderly gentleman, with green cotton um- brella, approaching me. His hair, which was snow- white, was parted over a broad, open forehead. The expression of his face, which was slightly flushed, was that of amiability verging almost upon imbecil- ity. There was a strange, inquiring look about the widely-opened mild blue eye — a look that might have been iatensified to insanity, or modified to idiocy. As he passed me, he paused and partly turned his face, with a gesture of inquiry. I see him still, his white locks blowing in the evening breeze, his hat a little on the back of "his head, and his figure painted in relief against the dark blue sky. Suddenly he turned his mild eye full upon me. A weak smile played about his thin lips. In a voice which had something of the tremulousness of age and the self-satisfied chuckle of imbecility in it, he asked, pointing to the rising moon, " Why ? — Hush !" He had dodged behind me, and appeared to be looking anxiously down the road. I could feel his aged frame shaking with terror as he laid his thin hands upon my shoulders and faced me in the direc- tion of the supposed danger. " Hush I did you not hear them coming?" I listened; there was no sound but the soughing of the roadside trees in the evening wind. I en- deavored to reassure him, with such success that in a NO TITLE. 113 few moments tlie old weak smile appeared on Ms be- nevolent face. ^' Wliy ? — " But tlie look of interrogation was suc- ceeded by a bopeless blankness. " ~Whj !" I repeated with, assuring accents : " Why," he said, a gleam of intelligence flickering over his face, " is yonder moon, as she sails in the blue empyrean, casting a flood of light o'er hill and dale, like — AVTiy," he repeated, with a feeble smile, "is yonder moon, as she sails in the blue empy- rean — " He hesitated — stammered — and gazed at me hopelessly, with the tears drippiag from his moist and widely-opened eyes. I took his hand kindly in my own. " Casting a shadow o'er hill and dale," I repeated quietly, lead- ing him up the subject, " like — Come, now." " Ah !" he said, pressing my hand tremulously, " you know it ?" " I do. Why is it like — the — eh — ^the commodious mansion on the Limehouse Eoad_?" A blank stare only followed He shook his head sadly. "Like the young men wanted for a light, genteel employment?" ' He wagged his feeble' old head cunningly. " Or, Mr. Ward," I said with bold confidence, "like the mysterious disappearance from the Kent Koad" The moment was full of suspense. He did not seem to hear me. Suddenly he turned "Hal" I darted forward But he had vanished in the darkness. 114 NO TITLB. CHAPTER m. NO. 27 limEHOTTSE BOAS. It was a hot midsummer evemng. Limeliouse Eoad was deserted save by dust and a few rattling butchers' carts, and the bell of the muf&n and crum- pet man. A commodious mansion which stood on the right of the road as you enter Pultneyville sur- rounded by stately poplars and a high fence sur- mounted by a chevaux defrise of broken glass, look- ed to the passing and footsore pedestrian like the genius of seclusion and solitude. A bill announcing in the usual terms that the house was to let, hung from the bell at the servants' entrance. As the shades of evening closed, and the long shadows of the poplars stretched across the road, a man carrying a small kettle stopped and gazed, first at the bill and then at the house. When he had reached the comer of the fence, he again stopped and looked cautiously up and down the road. Appar- ently satisfied with the result of his scrutiny, he de- liberately sat himself down in the dark shadow of the fence, and at once busied himself in some employ- ment, so well concealed as to be invisible to the gaze of passers-by. At the end of an hour he retired cau- tiously. But not altogether unseen. A slim young man, with spectacles and note-book, stepped from behind a tree as the retreating figure of the intruder was lost in the twilight, and transferred from the fence NO TITLE. 115 to liis note-book tlie freslily stenciled inscription — " S— T— 1860— X" OHAPTEK IV. COtJNT Moscow's NAEHATrTE. I AM a foreigner. Observe I To be a foreigner ia England is to be mysterious, suspicions, intriguing, M. Collins bas requested tbe bistory of my compli- city witb certain occurrences. It is notbing — ^bab — absolutely notbing. I write witb ease and fluency. Wby sbould I not write ? Tra la la ! I am wbat you Englisb call corpulent Ha, ba ! I am a pupil of Maccbiavelli. I find it mucb better to disbelieve everytbing, and to approacb my subject and wisbes circuitously, tban in a direct manner. You bave observed tbat play- ful animal, tbe cat. Call it, and it does not come to you directly, but rubs itself against all tbe farmture in tbe room, and reaches you finally — and scratcbes. Ab, ba, scratcbes ! I am of tbe feline species. Peo- ple call me a villain — ^bab I I know tbe family, living No. 27 Limebouse Eoad, I respect tbe gentleman — a fine, burly specimen of your Engbsbman — and Madame, cbarming, ravisb- ing, deligbtful. Wben it became known to me tbat tbey designed to let tbeir deligbtful residence, and visit foreign sbores, I at once called upon tbem. I kissed tbe band of madame. I embraced tbe great Englisbman. Madame blusbed sligbtly. Tbe great Bnglisbman sbook my band like a mastiff 116 NO TITLE. I began in that dexterous, insinuating manner, of whicli I am truly proud. I thouglit madame was ill. All — no. A change, then, was all that was re-, quired. I sat down at the piano and sang. In a few nainutes madame retired. I w^ alone with my friend. Seizing his hand, I began with every demonstra- tion of courteous sympathy. I do not repeat my words, for my intention was conveyed more in ac- cent, emphasis, and manner, than speech. I hinted to him that he had another wife living. I suggested that this was balanced — ha ! — ^by his wife's lover. That, possibly, he wished to fly — Whence the letting of his delightful mansion. That he regularly and systematically beat his wife in the English manner, and that she repeatedly deceived me. I talked of hope, of consolation, of remedy. I carelessly pro- duced a bottle of strychnine and a small vial of stra- monium from my pocket, and enlarged on the effi- ciency of drugs. His face, which had gradually be- come convulsed, suddenly became fixed with a fright' ful expression. He started to his feet, and roared : "You d — d Frenchman !" I instantly changed my tactics, and endeavored to embrace him. He kicked me twice, violently. I begged permission to kiss madame's hand. He re- plied by throwing me down stairs. I am in bed with my head bound up, and beef- steaks upon my eyes, but still confident and buoy- ant. I have not lost faith in Macchiavelli. Tra la la I as they sing in the opera. I kiss everybody's hands. NO TITLE. 117 OHAPTEE V. DB. DIOGS'S STATEMENT. My name is David Diggs. I am a surgeon living at iSTo. 9 Tbttenham Court. On the 15tli of June, 1854, I was called to see an elderly gentleman lodg- ing on the Kent Eoad. Found him highly excited, with strong febrile symptoms, pulse 120, increasing. Eepeated incoherently what I judged to be the pop- ular form of a conundrum. On closer examination found acute hydrocephalus and both lobes of the brain rapidly filling with water. In consultation with an eminent phrenologist, it was further discov- ered that all the organs were more or less obliterated except that of Comparison. Hence the patient was enabled to only distinguish the most common points- of resemblance between objects, without drawing ^pon other faculties, such as Ideality or Language, for assistance. Later in the day found him sinking — ^beiag evidently unable to carry the most ordinary conundrum to a successful, issue. Exhibited Tinct. "Val., Ext Opii, and Camphor, and prescribed quiet and emollienta On the 17th the patient was missing. CHAPTER LAST. STATEMENT OP THE PUBZJSHEB. Ok the 18th of June, Mr. Wilkie Collins left a roll of manuscript with us for publicalion, without title 118 NO TITLE. or direction, since which time he has not been heard from. In spite of the care of the proof-readers, and valuable Kterary assistance, it is feared that the con- tinuity of the story has been destroyed by some ac- cidental misplacing of chapters during its progress. How and what chapters are so misplaced, the pub- lisher leaves to an indulgent public to discover. 1S% — Mademoiselle, I swear to jou that J love you. — ^You wlio read tliese pages. You who turn ypur burning eyes upon tliese words — ^words that I trace — ^Ah, Heaven I the thought maddens me. ■ — ^I will be calm. I wiU imitate the reserve of the festive Englishman, who wears a spotted handker- chief which he calls a JBelchio, who eats bijiek, and caresses a bull-dog. I will subdue myself like him. — ^Ha ! Poto-beer I All right — Goddam 1 — Or, I will conduct myself as the free-bom Amer- ican — ^the gay Brother Jonathan ! I will whittle me a stick. I will whistle to myself "Yankee Doodle," and forget my passion in excessive expectoration, — ^Hoho ! — ^wake snakes and walk chalks. The world is divided into two great divisions: 120 N N. Paris and the provinces. There is but one Paris. There are several provinces, among -which may be numbered England, America, Eussia, and Italy. N N. was a Parisian. But N N. did not live in Paris. Drop a Parisian in the proviaces, and you drop a part of Paris with him. Drop him in Senegambia, and in three days he will give you an omelette soufflSe or a j>ati de foie gras, served by the neatest of Senegambian fiUes, whom he will call Mademoisella In three weeks he will give you an opera. N N". was not dropped in Senegambia, but-ia San Francisco — quite as awkward. They find gold in San Francisco, but they don't un- derstand gilding. NN. existed three years in this place. He be- came bald on the top of his head, as all Parisians do. Look down from your box at the Opera Comique, Mademoiselle, and count the b3,ld crowns of the fast young men in the pit Ah — ^you tremble! They show where the arrows of love have struck and glanced ofE N N. was also near-sighted, as all Parisians finally become. This is a gallant provision of Nature to spare them the mortification of observing that their lady friends grow old. After a certain age every woman is handsome to a Parisian. One day, NN". was walking dovm Washington street Suddenly he stopped. He was standing before the door of a mantua- maker. Beside the counter, at the further extremity N N. 121 of the shop, stood a young and elegantly formed wo- man. Her face was turned from N" IST. He entered, With a plausible excuse, and seeming indifference, he gracefally opened conversation with the mantua- maker as only a Parisian can. But he had to deal with a Parisian, His attempts to view the features of the fair stranger by the. counter were deftly com- bated by the shop-woman. He was obliged to re- tire. IST- IT. went home and lost his appetite. He was haunted by the elegant basque and graceful shoul- ders of the fair unknown, during the whole night The next day he sauntered by the mantua-maker. Ah I Heavens ! A thrill ran through his frame, and his fingers tingled with a delicious electricity. The fair inconnu was there I He raised his hat gracefully. He was not certain, but he thought that a slight mo- tion of her faultless bonnet betrayed recognition. He would have wildly darted into the s]iop, but just then the figure of the mantua-maker appeared in the doorway. — ^Did Monsieur wish anything? Misfortune! Desperation, NIST. purchased a bot- tle of Prussic acid, a sack of charcoal, and a quire of pink note paper, and returned home. He wrote a letter of farewell to the closely fitting basque, and opened'the bottle of Prussic acid. Some one knocked at his door. It was a China- man, with his weekly linen. These Chinese are docUe, but not intelligent They are ingenious, but not creative. They are cunning 6 ' 122 N N. in expedients, but deficient in tact. In love they are simply barbarous. They purcliase their wives openly, and not constructively by attorney. By offering small sums for their sweethearts, they de- grade the value of the sex. Nevertheless, NN. felt he was saved. He ex- plained all to the faithful Mongolian, and exhibited the letter he had written^ He implored him to de- Hver it The Mongolian assented. The race are not cleanly or sweet savored, but N N. fell upon his neck. He embraced him with one hand, and closed his nostrils with the other. Through him, he felt he clasped the close-fitting basque. The next day was one of agony and suspense. Evening came, but no Mercy. N N. lit the charcoal. But, to compose his nerves, he closed his door and first walked niildly up and down Montgomery Street When he returned, he found the faithful MongoHan on the steps. — AU Hty ! These Chinese are not accurate in their pronunci- ation. They avoid the r, like the English nobleman. N N. gasped for breath. He leaned heavily against the Chinaman. — Then you have seen her, Ohing Long? — ^Yes. AU lity. She cum. Top side of house. The dbcUe barbarian pointed up the stairs, sind chuckled. — She here— impossible I Ah, Heaven I do I dream ? N N. 123 — ^Yes. All lity — ^top side of House. Good. bye Jolin. This is the familiar parting epithet^ of the Mongo- lian. It is e(|iiivalent to our au revair. ■ " N" ]Sr. gazed with a stupefied air on the departing servant He placed his hand on his throbbing heart She here — alone beneath this roof. Oh, Heavens — ^what happiness ! But how? Tom from her home. Euthlessly dragged, perhaps, from her evening devotions, by the hands of a relentless barbarian. Could she forgive him? He dashed frantically up the stairs. He opened the door. She was standing beside his couch with averted face. ■ ' -'^ .,.;!- .• . ■ ■ A strange giddiness overtook him. He sank upon his knees at the threshold. — ^Pardon, pardon. My angel, can you forgive me? A terrible nausea now seemed added to the fear- ful giddiness. His utterance grew thick and slug- gish. — Speak, speak, enchantress. Forgiveness is all I ask. My Love, my Life 1 She did not answer. He staggered to his feet As he rose, his eyes fell on the pan of burning char- coal. A terrible suspicion flashed across 'his mind. This giddiness — ^this nausea. The ignorance of the barbarian. This silence. O merciful heavens ! she was dying ! 124 N N, He crawled toward her. He touclied her. She fell forward with a lifeless sound upon the floor. He uttered a piercing shriek, and threw himself beside her. • * * * * * * * A file of gendarmes, accompanied by the Chef Burke, found him the next morning lying lifeless upon the floor. They laughed brutally — ^these cruel minions of the law — and disengaged his arm from the waist of the wooden dummy which they had come to reclaim for the mantua maker. Emptying a few bucketfiils of water over his form, they finally succeeded in robbing him, not only of his mistress, but of that Death he had coveted with- out her. Ah I we live in a strange world, Messieurs. FMTINE. APTEE THE FEENCH OF VICTOE HUGO- PEOLOGUE. As long as there shall exist three paradoxes; a moral Frenchmai a religious Atheist, and a believing skeptic — so long, in fact, £ bookseUers shall wait — say twenty-five years — for a new gospe so long as paper shall remain cheap and ink three sous a bottle, have no hesitation in saying that such books as these are not u terly profitless. VioTOE Hugo. To be good is to be queer. WHat is a good man Bishop Myriel. Mj friend, you will possibly object to this. Yo- will say you know what a gojd man is. Perhap you will say your clergyman is a good man, fei instanca • Bah ! you are mistaken; you are an Englishmar and an Englishman is a beast. Englishmen think they are moral when they ar 126 FANTINE. only serious. These Englislunen also wear ill-shaped hats, and dress horribly ! Bah ! they are canaille. Still, Bishop Myriel was a good man — quite as% good as you. Better than you, in fact One day M. Myriel wa^ iij Paris. This angel used to walk about the streets like. any other man. He was not proud, though fine-looking. Well, three gamins de Paris called him bad names. Says one7 " Ah, mon Dieu I there goes a priest ; look out for your eggs and chickens !" "What did this good man do ? He called to them Idndly : • "My children," said he, "this is clearly not your fault I recognize in this insult and irreverence only the fault of your imn^ediate progenitors. Let us pray for your immediate progenitors," _ They knelt down and prayed for their immediate progenitors. The effect was touching. The Bishop looked calmly around : " On reflection," said he, gavely, " I was mistaken ; this is clearly the fault of Society. Let us pray for Society. They knelt down and prayed for Society. The effect was sublimer yet What do you think bf.that ? You, I mean. Everybody remembers the story of the,Bishop and Mother Nez Eetrousse. Old, Mother ISTez Eetrousse sold asparagus. She was poor ; there's a great deal of meaning in that word, my friend. Some people say " poor but honest ;" I say, Bah ! FAlimNE. 127 Bishop Myriel bougtit six biinclies of asparagus. THs good man had. one charming failing; he was fend, of asparagus. He gave her & franc and received three sous change. The SOULS were bad — counterfeit "Vifhat did this good Bishop do ? He said : " I should not have taken change from a poor woman." Then afterwards, to his housekeeper : " Never take change from a poor woman." Then he added to himself: "For the sous will probably be bad." IL "When a man commits a- crime society claps him in prison., A prison is one of the worst hotels imag- inable. The people there are low and vulgar. The butter is bad, the coffee is green. Ah, it is horrible ! In prison, as in a bad hotel, a man soon loses, not only his morals, but what is much worse to a French- man, his sense of refinement and delicacy. Jean Yaljean came from prison with confiised no- tions of society. He forgot the modem peculiarities of hospitality. So- he walked off with the Bishop's candlesticks. Let us consider : candlesticks were stolen ; that was evident Society put Jean Valjean in prison ; that was evident, too. In prison, Society took away his refinement ; that is evident, likewise. Who is Society ? You and I are Society. My friend, you and I stole those candlesticks I 128 FANTINE. m. The Bishop thought so, too. He meditated pro- foundly for six days. On the morning of the seventh he went to the Prefecture of Police. He said : " Monsieur, have me arrested. I have stolen candlesticks." The ofELcial was governed by the law of Society, and refused. What did this Bishop do ? He had a charming ball and chain made, affixed to his leg, and wore it the rest of his life. This is a fact ! IV. Love is a mystery. * A little friend of mine down in the country, at Auvergne, said to me one day : " Victor, Love is the world — ^it contains everything." She was only sixteen, this sharp-witted little girl, and a beautiful blonde. She thought everything of me. Fantine was one of those women who do wrong in the most /irtuous and touching manner. This is a peculiarity of French gi-isettes. You are an Englishman, and you don't under- stand. Learn, my friend, learn. Come to Paris and improve your morals. Fantine was the soul of modesty. She always wore high-neck dresses. High-neck dresses are a sign of modesty. PAKTINE. 129 Fantdne loved Thomolyea Why? My God! Wliat are you to ^o ? It was tlie fault of lier parents, and she hadn't any. How shall you teach her? , You must teach the parent if you wish to educate the child. How would you become virtuous J Teach your grandmother ! "When Tholmoyes ran away froxxx Fantine — which was done in a charming, gentlemanly manner — Fan- tine became convinced that a rigid sense of propriety might look upon her conduct as immoral She was a creature of sensitiveness — and her eyes were opened. She was virtuous still, and resolved to break off the liaison at once. So she put up her wardrobe and baby in a bundle. Child as she was, she loved them both. Then left Paris. Fantine's native place had changed. M. Madeline — an angel, and inventor of jetwork, had been teaching the villagers how to make spuri- ous jet! This is a grogpessive age. Those Americans — ■ children of the "West — ^they make nutmegs out of wood. I, myself, have seen hams made of pine, in the wigwams of those children of the forest But civilization has acquired deception too. Soci- 130 FAIWINE. ety is made up of deception. Even tlie best FrencL society. Still there was one sincere episode. Ell? The Frencli Kevolution I YIL M. Madeline was, if anything, better than MyrieL , M; Myriel was a saint M. Madeline a good man. M. Myriel was dead. M. Madeline was living. That made all the difference. M. Madeline made virtue profitable. I have seen it written ; " Be virtuous and you will be happy." "Where did I see this written? In the modem Bible? No. In the Koran? No. In Eousseau? No. Diderot? No. Where then? In a copy book. YUL M. Madeline was M. le Maire. This is how it came about For a long time he refdsed the honor. One day an old woman, standing on the steps, said : " Bah, a good mayor is a good thing. You are a good thing. Be a good mayor." This woman was a rhetorician. She understood inductive ratiocination. FANTINE. 131 IX. When this good M. Madeline, whom the reader Mil perceive miist have been a former convict, and a very bad man — ^gave himself up to justice as the real Jean Valjean; about this same time, Fantine was turned away from the manufactory, and met with a number of losses from society. Society attacked her, and this is what she lost : First her lover. Then her child. Then her placa Then her hair. Then her teetk Then her liberty. Then her life. What do you think of society after that? I tell you the present social system is a h,umbug. This is necessarily the end of Fantine. There are other things that will be stated in other volumes to follow. Don't be alarmed; there are plenty of miserable people left. Au revoir — taj friend. "LA FEME." APTEB THE FRENCH OF M, MICHELET. I. WOMEN AS AN INS'iTi'UTlON. " If it were not for -women, few of us would at present be in existence." This is tlie remark of a oautious and discreet writer. He was also sagacious and intelligent. "Woman 1 Look upon her and admire lier. Gaze upon her and love her. If she wishes to embrace you, permit her. Eemember she is weak and you are strong. But don't treat her unkindly. Don't make love to another woman before her face, even if she be your wife. Don't do it. Always be polite, even should she fancy somebody better than you. If your mother, my dear Amadis, had not fancied your father better than somebody, you might have been that somebody's son. Consider this. Always be a philosopher, even about women. LA PEMME. 133 Few men mideratand women. FrencKmen per- haps better than any one else. I am a Frenchman. • n. THE DWAirr. She is a child — a little thing — an infant She has a mother and father. Let us suppose, for example, they are married. Let ns be moral if we cannot be happy and free — ^they are married — ^per- haps — ^they love one another — ^who knows ? But she knows nothing of this ; she is an infant — a small thing — ^a trifle ! She is not lovely at first It is cruel, perhaps — but she is red — and positively ugly. She feels this keenly, and cries. She weeps. Ah, my God ! how she weeps! Her cries and lamentations now are really distressing. Tears stream from her in floods. Slje feels deeply and copiously like M. Alphonse de Lamartiae in his ConfessioTis. If you are her mother, Madame, you will fancy worms ; you wUl examine her hnen for pins and what not Ah, hypocrite ! you, even you, misunder- stand her. Yet she has charming natural impulses. See how she tosses her dimpled arms. She looks longingly at her mother. She has a language of' her own. She says, " goo goo," and " ga ga." She demands something — ^this infant I 134; LA FRMMT!. She is . faint, poor- thing. She famishea Slie wishes to be restored. ' Restore her, Mother ! It is the first duty of a mother to restore her child J THE DOUJ. She is hardly able to walk — she already tottera under the weight of a dolL It is a charming and elegant affair. It has pink cheeks and purple-black hair. She prefers bru- nettes, for she has already, with the quick knowledge of a French infant, perceived she is a blonde and that her doU cannot rival her. Moh Dieu, how touching ! Happy child ! She spends hours in pre- paring its toiletta She begins to show her taste in the exquisite details of its dresa She loves it madly, devotedly. She will prefer it to honbons. She al- ready anticipates the wealth of love she wiU hereaf- ter pour out on her lover, her mother, her father, and finally perhaps her husband. This is the time the anxious parent will guide these first outpourings. She will read her extracts irom Michelet's L Amour, Rousseau's Hihise, and the Beime des dewx Mondes. lA FEMME. 135 IV. THE MUD PCS. She was in tears to-day. She liad stolen away from lier honne and was with ^some rustic infants. They had noses in the air, and large,. coarse hands and feet. They had seated themselves arotind a pool in the road,' and were fashioning faintastic shla|pes in the clayey soil with their hands. Her throat swteUed and her eyes sparkled with delight as, for" the first time,' her soft' palms touched the plastic mud. She made a graceful and lovely pie. She stuffed it with ston6S for' almonds and plums. She forgot' everything: It was being baked in ' the solar rays, when madamS came and took her away. She weeps. It is night, and she is weeing stilL V. TTTTR FIBBT liOTE. / She no longer doubts her beauty. She is loved She saw him secretly. He is vivacious and apright- 'ly. He is famous. He has already had an affair with Finfin, the filh. de chambre, and poor Finfin is desolate. He is nobla She knows he is the son of Madame la Baronne Couturiere. She adores hitn. She affects not to notice him. Poor liltle thing I Hippolyte is distracted — annihilated — ^inconsolable and charming. 136 LA lEMME. She admires Ms boots, his cravat, Ms little gloves — ^Ms exquisite pantaloons — Ms coat, and cane. She offers to run away with him. He is transport- ed, but raagnanimous. He is wearied, perhaps. She sees him the next day offering flowers to the daugh- ter of Madame la Comtesse BlancMsseuse. She is again in tears. She reads Paul et Virginie. She is secretly trans- ported. When she reads how the exemplary young woman laid down her life rather than appear en dis- hahilU to her lover, she weeps again Tastefal and virtuous Bemardine de St Pierre 1 — the daughters of France admire you ! All tMs time her doll is headless ia the cabinet. The mud pie is broken on the road. VL She is tired of loving and she marriea Her mother thinks it, on the whole, the best thing. As the day approaches, she is found frequently in tears. Her mother will not permit the affianced one to see her, and he makes several attempts to commit suicida But something happens. Perhaps it is winter, and the water is cold. Perhaps there are not enough people present to witness his heroism. In tMs way her future husband is spared to her. La femme. 137 Slie -will offer pHlosopliy. She will tell lier she was married herself. But what is this new and ravishing light that breaks upon her ? The toilette and wedding clothes ! She is in a new sphere. She makes out her list in her own charming writ- iag. Here it is. Let every mother heed it* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * She is married. On the day aftes, she meets her Hippolyte. He is again transported. HEB OliS AOE, A French women never grows old. * The delicate reader will appreciate the omission of certain articles for which English synonyms are forbidden. MART MoGILIUP. AFTER BELLE BOYD; WITH AN INTRODTJCTION BY G. AS-LA- INTBODUOTION. " Wni you ■write me up 1" The scene was near Temple Bar. The speaker was the famous rebel Mary McGrillup — a young girl of fragile frame, and long, lus- trous black hair. I must confess that the question was a peculiar one, and under the oiromnstanoes, somewhat puzzling. It was ' true I had been Mndly treated by the Northerners, and, though prejudiced against them, was to some extent under obligations to them. It was true that I knew little or nothing of American politics, history, or geography. But when did an English writer ever weigh such trifles? Turning to the speaker, I inqtiired with some caution the amount of pecuniary compensation offered for the work. "Sir!" she said, drawing her fragile form to its full height, "You insult me — ^you insult the South." "But look ye here, d'ye see — the tin — the blunt — the ready — the stif^ you know. Don't ye see, we can't do without that, you know!" "It shall be contingent on the success of the story," she an- MABY MC GILLTJP. 139 swored haughtUy. " In the meantime take this precious gem.'' And dramng a diamond ring from her finger, she placed it with a roll of MSS. in my hands and vanished. Although unable to procure more than £1 2?. 6d. from an intelligent pa^i^nbroker to whom I stated the circumstances and with whom I pledged the ring, my sympathies with the cause of a down-troiden and chivalrous peoplb were at once enlisted. I could not help wondering that in rich England, the home of the oppressed and the free, a young and lovely woman like the feii author of those pages shotild be obliged to thus pawn her jewels — her marriage gift — for the means to procure her bread ! With the exception of the English aristocracy — ^who much resemble them — I do not know of a class of people that I so much admife as the Southern planters. May I become better acquainted with both. Since writing the above, the news of Mr. Lincoln's assassina- tion has reached me. It is enough for me to say that I am dissat- isfied with the result. I do not attempt to excuse the assassin. Yet there will be men who will charge this act upon the chivalrous South. This leads me to repeat a remark once before made by me in this connection, which has become justly celebrated. It is this: "It is usuial, in oases of murder, to look for the criminal among those who expect to be benefited by the crime. la the death of Lincoln, his immediate successor in of&ce alone receives the benefit of his dying.' " If Her Majesty Queen Victoria were assassinated, which Heaven forbid, the one most benefited by her decease would, of course, be His Eoyal Highness the Prince of Wales, her immediate suc- cessor. It would be unnecessary to state that suspicion would at once point to the real culprit, \ifhioh would of course be His Eoyal Highness. This is logic. But I have done. After having thus stated my opinion in favor of the South, I would merely remark that there is One who judgeth all things — who weigheth the cause between brother and brother — and awardeth the perfect retribution; and whose ulti- mate decision, I, as a British subject, have only anticipated. G. A. S. 140 MAEY MO GnXUP. CHAPTEB I. EVEEY reader of Belle Boyd's narrative will re- member an allusion to a "lovely, fragile looking girl of nineteen," wlio rivaled BeUe Boyd in devo- tion to tlie Southern cause, and who, like her, earned the enviable distinction of being a "rebel spy." I am that " fragile " young creature. Although on friendly terms with the late Miss Boyd, now Mrs. Harding, candor compels me to state that nothing but our common politics prevents me from exposing the ungenerous spirit she has displayed in this allu- sion. To be dismissed in a single paragraph after years of — ^biit I anticipate. To put up with this feeble and forced acknowledgment of services ren- dered would be a confession of a craven spirit, which, thank God, though "fragile" and only '■'■nineteen" I do not possess. I may not have the " hhod of a How- ard" in my veins, as some people, whom I shall not disgrace myself by naming, claim to have, but I have yet to learn that the race of McGillup ever yet brooked slight or insult. I shall not say that attention in certain quarters seems to have turned some people^s heads ; nor that it would have been more dehcate if certain folks had kept quiet on the subject of their courtship, and the rejection of certain offers, when it is known that their forward conduct was all that pro- cured them a hiisband ! Thank Heaven, the South has some daughters who are above such base consid- erations. While nothing shall tempt me to reveal the promises to share equally the fame of certain en- MAEY MC GILLtrP. 141 terprises, wMcli were made by one wlio sliall now be nanieless, I have deemed it only just to myself to put my own adventures upon record. If they are not equal to those of another individual, it is because though "fragile," my education has taught me to have- some consideration for the truth. I am done. CHAPTEE n. I WAS bom in Missouri, My dislike for thcjN'orth- em scum Vas inherent This was shown, at an early age, in the extreme distaste I exhibited for Webster's spelhng-book — ^the work of a well-known Eastern Abolitionist, I cannot be too grateful for the consid- eration shown by my chivalrous father — a gentleman of the old school — ^who resisted to the last an attempt to introduce Mitchell's Astronomy and Geography into the public school of our district. When I state that this same Mitchell became ^Jterward a hireling helot in the Yankee Army, every intelligent reader will appreciate the prophetic discrimination of this true son of the South. I was eight years old when I struck the first blow for Southern freedom against the Northern Tyrant. It is hardly necessary to state that in this instance the oppressor was a pale, over-worked New England " school-marm." The principle for which I was con- tending, I felt, however, to be the same. Eesenting an affront put upon me, I one day heaved a rock * at * Note, by G-. A. S.— In the Southwest, any stone larger than a pea is termed "a rook.'' 142 MABY MO GILLUP. the head of the Vandal schoolmistress. I was seized and overpowered. My pen falters as I reach the climax. English readers will not give credit to this sickening story — ^the civilized world will avert its head — ^but I, Mary McGillup, was publicly spanked 1 CHAPIEK m. But the chaotic vortex of civil war approached, and fell destruction, often procrastinated, brooded in storm.* As the English people may like to know what was really the origin of the rebellion, I have no hesitation in giving them the true and only cause. Slavery had nothing to do with it, although the vio- lation of the Declaration of Independence, in the dis- regard by the North of the Fugitive Slave Law,f might have provoked a less fiery people than the Southrons. At the inception of the struggle a large amount of Southern indebtedness was held by the peo- ple of the North. To force payment from the gen- erous but insolvent debtor — ^to obtain liquidation from the Southern planter — ^was really the soulless and mercenary object of the craven Northerners. Let the common people of England look to this. Let the improvident literary hack ; the starved impecu- • I make no pretension "to fine writing, but perhaps Mrs. Hardinge can lay over that. Oh, of course ! M. McG. t The Declaration of Independence grants to each subject "the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness." A fugitive slaTe may be said to personify " life, liberty and happiness." Hence his pur- suit is really legal This is logic. Gr. A. S. MAET MO Gnxxrp. 143 nious Grub Street debtor; tbe newspaper 'frequentei of sponging-hoTises, remember tbis in their criticisms of tbe vile and slavish Yankea CHAPTEE IV. The roasting of an Abolitionist, by a greatly inftt- riated community, was my first taste of the horrors of civil war. Heavens I "Why will the North per sist in this fratricidal warfare ? The expulsion of several Union refugees, which soon followed, now fairly plunged my beloved State iu the seething vor- tex. I was sitting at the piano one afternoon, singing that stirring refrain, so justly celebrated, but which a craven spirit, unworthy of England,, has excluded from some of her principal restaurants, and was dwelling with some enthusiasm on the following line: " Huzza ! she spTjms the Northern scum !" when a fragment of that scum, clothed in that detest- able blue 'uniform which is the symbol of oppression, entered -the apartment. " I have the "honor of ad- dressing the celebrated rebel spy. Miss McGillup," said the Vandal officer. In a moment I was perfectly calm.' With the exception of slightly expectorating twice in the face of the minion, I did not betray my agitation. Haughtily, yet firmly,'! replied: 144 MAET MO GILLUP. "lam." " Yoa looked as if you might be," tlie brute re- plied, as lie turned on bis heel to leave the apart, ment In an instant I tbrew myself before him. " You shall not leave here' thus,'' I shrieked, grappling him with an energy which no one, seeing my frail figure, would have believed. "I know the reputation of your hireling crew. I read your dreadful purpose in your eye. Tell me not that your designs are not sinister. You came here to insult me — to Idss me, perhaps. You shan't — ^you naughty man. Go away !" The blush of conscious degradation rose to the cheek of the Lincoln hireling as he turned- his face away from mine. In an instant I drew my pistol from my belt, which, in anticipation of some such outrage, I always carried, and shot him. CHAPTER V. " Thy forte was less to act than speak, Maryland I Thy politics were changed each week, Maryland! With Northern Vandals thou was't meek, With sympathizers thou wouldst shriek, I know thee — O 'twas like thy cheek ! Maryland ! my Maryland !" After committing the act described in the preced- ing chapter, which every English reader -vpU pardon, MABT MO GILLTJP. 145 I -went up stairs, put on a clean pair of stobMngs, and placing a rose in my lustrous black hair, proceeded at once to tlie camp of Generals Price and Mosby to put tliem in possession of information which would lead to the destruction of a portion of the Federal army. During a great of my flight I was exposed to 'a runing fire from the Federal pickets of such coarse expressions as, "Go it, SallyEeb," "Dustit, my Con- federate beauty," but I succeeded in reaching the glorious Southern camp uninjured. In a week afterwards I was arrested, by' a lettre de cachet of Mr. Stanton, and plftced in the Bastile. British readers of my story will express surprise at these terms, but I assure them that not only these arti- cles but tumbrils, guillotines and conciergeries were in active use among the Federals. If substantiation be required, I refer to the Charleston Mercury, the only reliable organ, next to the New York Daily News, published in the country. At the Bastile I made the acquaintance of the accomplished and elegant author of Ghiy Idvingstone * to whom I presented a curiously carved thigh bone of a Union officer, and from whom I received the following beautiful ac- knowledgment : " DemoiseUe: Should I ever win hame to myain coiintrie, I make mine avow to enshrine in my reliquaire this elegant * The recent conduct of Mr. Livingstone renders him unworthy of my notice. His disgusting praise of Belle Boyd, and complete ignoring of my claims, show the artfulness of some females and puppyism of some men. M. MoG. ' 7 146 MAEY MC GILLUP. bijmcterie and offering of La BeUe Bebelle. Nay, methinks this frac- tion of man's anatomy where some compensation for the rib lost by the 'grand old gardener," Adam." CHAPTER VL Released at last from durance vile and placed on board of an Erie canal boat, on my way to Canada, I for a moment breathed the sweets of liberty. Per- haps the interval gave me opportunity to indulge ia certain reveries which I had hithertD sternly dis- missed- Henry Breakinridge Folair, a consistent cop- perhead, captain of the canal-boat, agaia and again pressed that suit I had so often rejected. It was a lovely moonlight night "We sat on the deck of the gliding craft. The moonbeam and the lash of the driver fell softly on the flanks of the off- horse, and only the surging of the tow-rope broke the silence. Folair's arm clasped my waist. I suf- fered it to remaia Placing in my lap a small but not tmgrateftil roll of checkerberry lozenges, he took the occasion to repeat softly ia my ear the words of a motto he had just unwrapped — ^with its gracefiil cov- ering of the tissue paper — ^from a sugar almond. The heart of the wicked little rebel, Mary McGillup, was won ! The story of Mary McGillup is done. I might have added the journal of my husband, Henry Breckinridge Folair, but as it refers chiefly to his freights, and a schedule of his passengers, I have been obliged, reluctantly, to suppress it MAET MC QTLLVF. 147 It is due to my friends to say tliat I liave been re- quested not to -write this book. Expressions liave reacted my ears, tlie reverse of complimentary. I have been told that its publication -will probably en- sure my banishment for life. Be it so. ~ If the cause for which I labored have been subserved, I am con- tent London', May, 1865. CIYIC SKETCHES. A YMEMBLE IMPOSTOR. As I glance across my table, I am somewtat dis- tracted by tlie spectacle of a venerable head whose crown occasionally appears beyond, at about its level The apparition of a very small hand — whose fingers are bunchy and have the appearance of being slightly webbed — ^which is frequently lifted above the table in a vain and impotent attempt to reachthe inkstand, always affects me'^as a novelty at each re- currence of the phenomenon. Yet both the venera- ble head and bunchy fingers belonged to an individual with whom I am familiar, and to whom, for certain reasons hereafter described, I choose to apply the epithet written above this article. His advent in the family was attended with pecu- liar circumstances. He was received with some con- cern — ^the nwnber of retainers having been increased by one in honor of his arrivaL He appeared to be weary — ^his pretence was that he had come from a long journey — so that for days, weeks, and even months, he did not leave his bed except when he was carried. But it was remarkable that his appetite was invariably regular and healthy, and that his meals, which he required should be brought to him, were 152 A TENEEABLE IMPOSTOE. aeld^b. rejected. During this time lie had little con- yersation^with the famUy, his knowledge of our ver- nacular heing limited, b«t occasionalfy spoke to him- self in his own language — a foreign tongue. The difficulties attending this eccentricity were obviated by the young woman who had from the first taken liim under her protection — ^being, like the rest of her sex, peculiarly open to impositions — and who at once disorganized her own tongue to suit his. This was effected by the contraction of the syllables of some words, the addition of syllables to others, and an in- genious disregard for tenses and the governing powers of the verb. The same singular law which impels people in conversation with foreigners to imitate their" broken English, governed the family in their com- munications with him. He received these evidences of his power with an indifference not wholly free from scorn. The expression of his eye would occa- sionally denote that his higher nature revolted from them. I have no doubt myself that his wants were frequently misinterpreted ; that the stretching forth of his hands toward the moon and stars might have been the performance of some religious rite peculiar to his own country, which was in ours misconstrued into a desire for physical nourishment His repeti- tion of the word " goo-goo" — ^which was subject to a variety of opposite interpretations — ^when taken in conjunction with his size, in my mind seemed to in- dicate his aboriginal or Aztec origin. I incline to this belief, as it sustains the impression I have already hinted at, that his extreme youth is a A VEKEBABLE IMPOSTOR. 153 simulation and deceit ; that lie is really older a»d liaa lived before at some remote period, and that his con- duct fully juStfles his title as A Veneralale Impos- tor. A variety of circumstances corroborate this im- pression : His tottering walk, which is a senile as well as a juvenile condition ; his venerable head, thatched with such imperceptible hair that, at a distance, it looks like a mild am-eola, and his imperfect dental exhibition. But beside these physical peculiarities may be observed certain moral symptoms, which go to disprove his assumed youth. He is in the habit of falling into reveries, caused, I have no doubt, by some circumstance which suggests a comparison with his experience in his remoter boyhood, or by some serious retrospection of the past years. He has- been detected lying awake, at times when he should have been asleep, engaged in curiously com- paring the bed-clothes, walls and furniture with some recollection of his youth. At such moments he has been heard to smg softly to himself fragments of some unintelligible composition, which probably still linger in his memory as the echoes of a music he haa long outgrown. He has the habit of receiv- ing strangers with the familiarity of one who had met them before, and to whom their antecedents and peculiarities w«re matters of old acquaintance, and so unerring is his judgment of their previous ch|rac- ter that when he withholds his confidence I am apt to withhold mine. It is somewhat remarkable that while the maturity of his years and the respect due to them is denied by man, his superiority and vener- 154 A VENEKABLE IMPOSTOB. able age is never questioned by tbe brute creation. Tbe dog treats him with a respect and consideration accorded to none others, and the cat j^mits a famil- iarity which I should shudder to attempt. It may be considered an evidence of some Pantheistic qual- ity in his previous education, that he seems to rec- ognize a fellowship even in inarticulate objects ; he has been known to verbally address plants, flowers and fruit, and to extend his confidence to such inan- imate objects as chairs and tables. There, can be little doubt that, in the remote period of his youth, these objects were endowed with not only sentient natures but moral capabilities, and he is still in the habit of beating them when they collide with him, and of pardoning them with a kiss. As he has grown older — ^rather let me say, as we have approximated to his years — he has, in spite of the apparent paradox, lost much of his senile gravity. It must be confessed that some of his actions of late appear to our imperfect comprehension inconsistent with his extreme age. A habit of marching up and down with a string tied to a soda-water bottle, a dis-' position to ride anything that could by any exercise of the liveliest fancy be made to assume equine pro- portions, a propensity to blacken his venerable white hair with ink and coal dust, and an omnivorous ap- petite which did not stop at chalk, clay, or ciuders, were peculiarities not calculated to excite respect. In fact, he would seem to have become demoralized, and when, after a prolonged absence the other day, he was finally discovered standing upon the front A VENERABLE IMPOSTOB. 155 steps, addressing a group of delighted children out of Ms limited vocabulary, the circumstance could only be accounted for as the garrulity of age. But I lay aside my pen amidst an ominous silence and the disappearance of the venerable head from my plane of vision. As I step to the other side of the table, I find that sleep has overtaken him in an overt act of hoary wickedness. The very pages I have devoted to an exposition of his deceit he has quietly abstracted, and I find them covered with cabalistic figures and wild-looking hieroglyphs traced with his forefinger dipped in ink, which doubtless in his own language conveys a scathing commentary on my composition. But he sleeps peacefully, and there is something in his face which tells me" that he has already wandered away to that dim reign of his youth where I cannot foUowhim. And as there comes a strange stirring at my heart when I contem- plate the immeasurable gulf which lies between us, and how slight and feeble as yet is his grasp on this world and its strange realities, I find too late that I also am a willing victim of the Venerable Im- postor. FROM A BALCONY. The little stone balcony, wMcli, by a popular fal- lacy, is supposed to be a necessary appurtenance of my window, has long been to me %, source of curi- ous interest The fact that the asperities of our sum- mer weather will not permit me to use it but once or twice in six months, does not alter my concern for thi^ incongruous ornament. It affects me as I suppose the conscious possession of a linen coat or a nankeen ti'ousers might affect a sojourner here who has not entirely outgi-own his memory of Eastern summer heat and its glorious compensations — a luxurious providence against a possible but by no means prob- able contingency. I do no longer wonder at the persistency with which San Franciscans adhere to this architectural superfluity in the face of climatical impossibilities. The balconies in which no one sits, the piazzas on which no one lounges, are timid ad- vances made to a climate whose churlishness we are trying to temper by an ostentation of confidence. Bidiculous as this_ spectacle is at all seasons, it is never more so than in that bleak interval between EBOM A BALCONY. 157 sunset and dart, wlien the shrill scream of the facto- ry whistle seems to have concentrated all the hard unsympathetic quality of the climate into one vocal expression. Add to this the appearance of one or two pedestrians, manifestly too late for their dinners, and tasting in the shrewish air a bitter premonition of the welcome that awaits them at home, and you have one of those ordinary views from my balcony, which makes the balcony itself ridiculous. But as I lean over its balustrade to-night— ?a night rare in its kindness and beauty — and watch the fiery ashes of my cigar drop into the abysmal darkness below, I am inclined to take back the whole of that preceding paragraph, although it cost me sdme la- bor to elaborate its polite malevolence. I can even recognize some melody in the music which comes ir- regularly and fitfully irom the balcony of the Museum on Market Street, although it may be broadly stated that, as a general thing, the music of all museums, menageries, and circuses, becomes greatly demoral- ized—possibly through associations with the beasts. So soft and courteous is this atmosphere that I have de- tected the flutter of one or two light dresses on the adjacent balconies and piazzas, and the^front parlor windows of a certain aristocratic mansion in the vi- cinity which have always maintained a studious re- serve in regard to the interior, to-night are suddenly thrown into the attitude of familiar disclosure. A few young people are strolling up the street with a lounging step which is quite a relief to that usual brisk, business-like pace which the chilly nights im- 158 FROM A BALCONY. pose upon even the most sentimental lovers. The genial influences of the air are not restricted to the opening of shutters and front doors ; other and more gentle disclosures are made, no doubt, beneath this moonlight The bonnet and hat which passed beneath my balcony a few moments ago, were sus- piciously close together. I argued from this that my friend the editor will probably receive any quantity of verses for his next issue, containing allusions to " Luna," in which the original epithet of " silver," will be applied to this planet, and that a "boon" will be asked for the evident purpose of rhyming with'" moon," and for no other. Should neither of the parties be equal to this expression, the pent-up feelings of the heart will probably find vent later in the evening over the piano, in " I wandered by the brookside," or "When the moon on the lake is beam- ing." But it has been permitted me to hear the fal- filhnent of my prophecy oven as it was uttered. From the window of number Twelve hundred and Seven, gushes upon the slumbrous misty air, the maddening ballad, "Ever of Thee," while at Twelve Hundred and Eleven, the "Star of the Evening" rises with a chorus. I am inclined to think that there is some- thing is the utter vacuity of the refrain in this song, which especially commends itself to the young. The simple statement, " Star of theE vening," is again and again repeated with an imbecile relish ; while the adjective "beautiful " recurs with a steady persistency, too exasperating to dwell upon here. At occasional intervals, a bass voice enunciates " Star-r 1 Star-rl" MOM A BALCONY. 159 as a solitary and independent effort. Sitting here in my balcony, I picture the possessor of that voice as a small, stout young man, standing a little apart from the other singers, with his hands behind him. tinder his coat-tail, and a severe expression of coun- tenance. He sometimes leans forward, with a futile attempt to read the music over somebody else's shoulder, but always resumes his old severity of atti- tude before siugihg his part Meanwhile, the celes- tial subjects of this choral adoration look down upon the scene with a tranquillity and patience which can only result from the security with which their immeasurable remoteness invests them. I would remark that the stars are not the only topics subject to this " damnable iteration." A certain popular song, which contains the statement, "I will not for- get you, mother," apparently reposes all its popular- ity on the constant and dreary repetition of this unim- portant information, which at least produces the de- sired result among the audience. If the best operatic choruses are not above this weakness, the unfamil- iar language in which they are sung offer less viola- tion to common sense. It may be parenthetically stated here that the songs alluded to above may be found in sheet music on the top of the piano of any young lady who has just come from boarding-school. " The Old Arm Chair," or " "Woodman, Spare that Tree,'' will be also found in easy juxtaposition. The latter songs are usually brought into service at the instance of an uncle or bachelor brother, whose request is generally 160 FEOM A BALCONY. prefaced by a -semark deprecatory of tbe opera, and the gratuitous observation that " we are retro- grading, sir — retrograding ;" and that " there is no music like the old songs." He sometimes conde- scends to accompany " Marie"' in a tremulous bari- tone, and is particularly -forcible in those passages where the word " repeat" is written, for reasons stated above. When the song is over, to the success of which he feels he has materially contributed, he will inform you that you may talk of yom* '' arias," and your "romanzas," "but for music, su- — music — " at which point he becomes incoherent and unintelligi- ble. It is this gentleman who suggests " China," or "Brattle Street," as a suitable and cheerful exercise for the social circle. There are certain amatory songs, of an arch and coquettish character, familiar to these localities, which the young lady being called upon to sing, declines with a bashful and tantalizing hesitation. Prominent among these may be men- tioned an erotic effusion entitled "I'm Talking in my Sleep," which, when sung by a young person vi- vaciously and with appropriate glances, can be made to drive languishing swains to the A'-erge of madness. Ballads of this quality afford splendid opportunities for bold young men, .who, by ejaculating " Oh" and " Ah" at the affecting passages, frequently gain a fascinating reputation for wildness and skepticism. But the music which called up these parenthetical reflections has died away, and with it the slight ani- mosities it inspired. The last song has been sung, the piano closed, the lights are withdrawn from the ■ FROM A BAICONT. 161 windows, and the white skirts flutter away from stoops and balconies. The silence is broken only by the sattle and rumble of carriages coming from theatre and opera. I fancy that this sound— which, seeming to be more distinct at this hour than at any other time, might be called one of the civic voices of the night — ^has certain urbane suggestions, not un- pleasant to those bom and bred in large cities. The moon, round and full, gradually usu.rps the twink- ling lights of the city, that one by one seem to fade away and be absorbed in her superior lustre. The distant Mission hills are outlined against the sky, but through one gap the outlying fog which has stealthily invested us, seems to have effected a breach, and only waits 'the co-operation of the lag- gard sea breezes to sweep down and take the belea- gaered city by assault; An ineffable calm sinks over the landscape. In the magical moonlight the shot-tower loses its angular outline and practical re- lations, and becomes a minaret from whose balcony an invisible muezzin calls the Faithful to prayer. " Prayer is better than Sleep." But what is this ? a shuffle of feet on the pavement, a low hum of voices, a twang of some diabolical instrument, a preliminary hem and cough. Heavens ! it cannot be ! Ah, yes — ^it is — ^it is — Serenadees ! Anathema Maranatha ! May purgatorial pains seize you, William, Count of Poitou, Girard de Boreuil, Arnaud de Marveil, BertrancJ de Bom, mis- chievous progenitors oi jongleurs^ troubadours, pro- ven$als, minnesingers, minstrels and singers of cansos 162 FBOM A BAXCONT. ■ and love chants I Confession overtake and confoni^d your modem descendants, the " metre ballad mon- gers," who carry the shamelessness of the middle ages into the nineteenth century, and awake a sleep- ing neighborhood to the brazen knowledge of their loves and wanton fancies. Destruction and demor- , ahzation pursue these pitiable imitators of a barbar- ous age, when ladies' names and charms were shout- ed through the land, and modest maidens never lent presence to tilt or tourney without hearing a chroni- cle of her virtues go round the lists, shouted by whee2y heralds and taken up by roaring swashbuck- lers. Perdition overpower such ostentatious wooers . Marry ! shall I shoot the aniorous feline who nightly iterates his love songs on my roof, and yet withhold my trigger finger from yonder pranksome gallant ? Gro to ! Here is an orange left of last week's repast Decay hath overtaken it — ^it possesseth neither savor nor cleanliness. Ha 1 cleverly thrown ! A hit— a palpable hit ! Peradventure I have still a boot that hath done me service, and, baring a looseness of the heel, an omiaous yawning at the side, 'tis in good case I Na'theless, 'twill serve. So ! so ! "What I- dispersed ! Nay, then, I too wiU retire. MELONS. As I do not suppose tie most gentle of readers ■will believe tliat anybody's sponsors in baptism eve] ■vnllfally assumed the responsibility of such a name I may as well state that I have reason to infer thai Melons was simply the nick-name of a small boy ] once knew. If he had any other, I never knew it. Various theories were often projected by me, to account for this strange cognomen. His head, which was covered with a transparent down, like that which clothes very small chickens, plainly permit- ting the scalp to show through, to an imaginative mind might have suggested that succulent vegetable. That his parents, recognizing some poetical signifi- cance in the Jfruits of the season, might have given this name to an August chUd, was an Oriental expla- nation. That frpnci his infancy, he was fond of in- dulgiag in melons, seemed oii the whole the most likely, particularly as Fancy was not bred in McGinnis's Court. He dawned upon me as melons. His proximity was indicated by shrill, youthful voipes, as " Ah, Mplons !" — or ' playfully, " Hi, Melons !" or authoritatively, " You, Melons I" 164: MELONS. McGrinnis's Court was a democratic expression of some obstinate and radical property-liolder. Occupy- ing a limited space between two fashionable thorougb- fares, it refused to conform to circumstances, but sturdi- ly paraded its umkempt glories, and frequently assert- ed itself in ungrammatical language My window — a rear room on tbe ground floor — ^in this way derived blended bgbt and shadow from the Court So low was the window-sill,' that had I been the least predisposed to somnambulism, it would have broken out under such favorable auspices, and I should have haunted McGinnis's Court My specu- lations as to the origin of the Court were not alto- gether gratuitous, for by means of this window I once saw the Past, as through a glass darkly. It was a Celtic shadow that early one morning obstructed my ancient lights. It seemed to belong to an iirai- vidual with a pea-coat, a stubby piije and bristling beard. He was gazing intently at the Court, resting on a heavy cane, somewhat in the way that heroes dramatically visit the scenes of their boyhood. As there was little of architectxiral beauty in the Court, I came to' the conclusion that it was McGinnis looking after his property. The fact that he care- fully kicked a broken bottle out of the road, some- what strengthened me in the opinion. But he pres- ently walked away, and the Court knew him no mora He probably collected his rents by proxy — ^if he collected them at all. Beyond Melons, of whom all this is purely intro- ductory, there was little to interest the most sanguine MELONS. 165 and hopeful nature. In common witli all sucli locali- ties, a great deal of washing was done, in comparison with the visible results. — There was always some- thing whisking on the line, and always something whisking through the Court, that looked as if it ought to be there. A fish geranium — of all plants kept for the recreation of mankind, certainly the greatest allusion— straggled under thfe window. Through its dusty leaves I caugfit the first glance of Melons. His age was about seven. He looked older, from the venerable whiteness of his head, and it was impossible to conjecture his size, as he always wore clothes apparently belonging to some shapely youth of nineteen. A pair of pantaloons, that, when sus- tained by a single suspender, completely equipped him — ^formed his every-day suit. How, with this lavish superfluity of clothing, he managed to perform the surprising gymnastic feats it has been my privi- lege to witness, I have never been able to telL His " turning the crab," and other minor dislocations, were always attended with success. It was not an unusual sight at any hour of the day to find Melons suspend- ed on a line, or to see his venerable head appearing above the roofs of the outhouses. Melons knew the exact height of every fence in the vicinity, its facil- ities for scaling, and the possibility pf seizure on the other side. His more peaceful and quieter amus- ments consisted in dragging a disused boiler by a large string, with hideous outpries, to imaginary firea Melons was not gregarious in his habits. A few 166 MELONS. youtli of Ids own age sometimes called upon him, but tLey eventually became abusive, and their visits were more strictly predatory incursions for old bottles and junk which formed the staple of McGinnis's Court Overcome by loneliness one day, Melons inveigled a blind harper into the Court. For two hours did that wretched man prosecute his unhal- lowed calling, unrecompensed, and going round and round the Court, apparently under the impression that it was some other place, while Melons surveyed him fi-on an adjoining fence with calm satisfaction. It was this absence of conscientious motives that brought Melons into disrepute with his aristocratic neighbors. Orders were issued that ho child of wealthy and pious parentage should play with him. This mandate, as a matter of course, invested Melons with a fascinating interest to them. S^dmiring gl|an- ces were cast at Melons from nursery windowa Baby fingers beckoned to him. Invitations to tea (on wood and pewter) were lisped to him from aristocratic back-yards. It was evident he was looked upon as a pure and noble being, untrammeled by the conven- tionalities of parentage, and physically as well as mentally exalted above them. One afternoon an un- usual commotion prevailed in the vicinity of McGin- nis's Court Looking from my window I saw Melons perched on the roof of a stable, pulling up a rope by which one " Tommy," an infant scion of an adjacent and wealthy house, was suspended in mid-air. In vain the female relatives of Tommy, congregated in tjie back-yard, expostulated with Melons; in vain MELONS. 167 the imliappy father stools: his fist at him. Seciire in his position, Melons redoubled his exertions and at last landed Tommy on the roof. Then it was that the humiliating fact was disclosed that Tommy had been acting in collusion with Melons. He grinned de- lightedly back at his parents, as if " by merit raised to that bad eminence." Long before the ladder arriyed that was to succor him, he became the sworn ally of Melons, and I regret to say, incited by the sarde "audacious boy, " chaffed " his own flesh and blood below him. He was eventually taken, though-^of course — Melons escaped. But Tommy was restrict- ed to the window after that, and the companionship was limited to " Hi, Melons !" and "" You Tommyl" and Melons, to all practical purposes, lost him forever. I looked afterward to see some signs of sorrow on Melon's part, but ia vain ; he buried his grief, if he had any, somewhere in his one voluminous garment At about this time my opportunities of knowing Me- lons became more extended. I was engaged in filling a void in the Literature of the Pacific. Coast As this void was a pretty large one, and as I was informed that the Pacific Coast languished under it, I set apart two hours each day to this work of filling in. It was necessary that I should adopt a methodical sys- tem, so I retired firom the world and locked myself in my room at a certain hour each day, after coming from my office. I then carefully di-ew out my port- folio and read what I had written the day befora This would suggest some alteration^ and I would carefully re- write it During this operation I would 168 MELONS. turn to consult a book of reference, whicli invaria- bly proved extremely interesting and attractive. It would generally suggest another and better method of "iilling in." Turning this method over reflec- tively ill my mind, I would finally commence the new method which I eventually abandoned for the original plan. At this time I would become con- vinced that my exhausted faculties demanded a cigar. The operation of lighting a cigar usually suggested that a little quiet reflection and meditation would be of service to me, and I alwiiys allowed myself to be guided by prudential instincts. Eventually, seated by my window, as before ■ stated. Melons asserted himself Though our conversation rarely went further than " Hello, Mister !" and " Ah, Melons !" a yaga- bond instinct we felt in common implied a commun- ion deeper than words. In this spiritual commingling the time passed, often beguiled by gymnastics on the fence or line (always with an eye to my window) until dinner was announced, and I found a more practical void required my attention. An unlooked for inci- dent drew us in closer relation, A sea-faring friend just from a tropical voyage had presented me with a bunch of bananas. They were not quite ripe, and I hung them before my window to mature in the sun of McGrinnis's Court, whose forc- ing qualities were remarkable. In the mysteriously mingled odors "of ship and shore which they difiused throughout my room, there was a lingering reminis- cence of low latitudes. But even that joy was fleet- ing and evanescent : they never reached maturity. MELONS. 169 •Coming home one day as I turned the corner of tliat fashionable thoroughfare before alluded to, I met a small boy eating a banana. There was noth- ing remarkable in that, but as I neared McGinnis's Court I presently met another small boy, also eating a banana. A third small boy engaged in a like oc- cupation obtruded a painful coincidence upon my mind. . I leave the psychological reader to determine the exact co-relation between this circumstance and the sickening sense of loss that overcame me on wit- nessing it I reached my room — and found the bunch of bananas were gone. There was but one who knew of their existence, but one who frequented my window, but one capa- ble of the gymnastic effort to procure them, and that was — ^I blush to say it — Melons. Melons the depre- dator — Melons, despoiled by larger boys of his ill- gotten booty, or reckless and indiscreetly liberal; Melons — ^now .a fugitive on some neighboring house- top. I lit a cigar and drawing my chair to the win- dow sought surcrease of sorrow in the contemplation of the fish geranium. In a few moments some- thing white passed my window at about the level of the edge. There was no mistaking that hoary head, which now represented to me only aged iniquity. It was Melons, that venerable, juvenile hypocrite. He affected not to observe me, and would have withdrawn quietly, but that horrible fascination which causes' the murderer to revisit the scene of his crime, impelled him toward my window. I smoked calmly and gazed at him without speaking. He walked 8 170 MELONS. several times up and down tte Court witli a half rigid, half belligerent expression of eye and shonl- der, intended to represent the carelessness of inno- cence. Once or twice he stopped, and putting his arms their whole length into his capacious trowsers, gazed with some interest at the additional width they thus acquired. Then he whistled. The singular conflict- ing conditions of John Brown's body and soul were at that time beginning to attract the attention of youth, and Melons's performance of that melody was always remarkable. But to-day he whistled falsely and shrilly between his teeth. At last he met my eye. He winced slightly, but recovered himself, and going to the fence, stood for a few moments on his hands, with his bare feet quivering in the air. Then he turned toward me and threw out a conversational preliminary. " They is a ch-kis " — said Melons gi'avely, hang- ing with his back to the fence and his arms twisted around the palings — "a cirkis over yonder!" — indi- cating the locality with his foot — " with hosses, and hossback riders. They is a man wot rides six hosses to onct — six hosses to onct — and nary saddle " — and he paused in expectation. Even this equestrian novelty did not affect me. I still kept a fixed gaze on Melons's eye, and he began to tremble and visibly shrink in his capacious gar- ment Some other desperate means — conversation with Melons was always a desperate means — must be resorted to. He reconunenced more artfully. MELONS. 171 "Do you know Carrots?' I had. a faint remembrance of a boy of thai eupho- nious name, with scarlet hair, who was a playmate and persecuter of Melons. But I said nothing. " Carrots is a bad boy. Killed a policeman onct Wears a dirk knife in his boots, saw him to-day look- ing in your windy." I felt that this must end here. I rose sternly and addressed Melons. " Melons, this is all irrelevant and impertinent to the case. You took those bananas. Your proposi- tion regarding Carrots, even if I were inclined to ac- cept it as credible information, does not alter the ma- terial issue. You took those bananas. The offence under the statutes of California is felony. How far Carrots may have been accessory to the fact either before or after, is not my intention at present to dis- cuss. The act is complete. Your present conduct shows the aniino furandi to have been equally clear." By the time I had finished this exordium. Melons had disappeared, as I fully expected. He never re-appeared. The remorse that I have experienced for the part I had taken In what I fear may have resulted in his utter and complete exter- mination, alas, he may not know, except through these pages. For I have never seen him since. Whether he ran away and went to sea to re-appear at some fature day as the most ancient of mariners, or whether he buried himself completely in his trousers, I never shall know. I have read the papers anxiously for 172 MELONS. accounts of Mm. I have gone to tlie Police Office m the vain attempt of identifying him as a lost child. But I never saw or heard of him since. Strange fears have sometimes crossed my mind that his ven- erable appearance may have been actually the result of senility, and that he may have been gathered peacefdlly to his fathers in a green old aga I have even had doubts of his existence, and have some- times thought that he was providentially and mys- teriously offered to fill the void I have before-alluded to. In that hope I have written these pages. SURPRISING ADYENTURES MASTEE CHARLES SUMMEETOK At exactly half-past nine o'clock on the morning of Saturday, August 2.6th, 1865, Master Charles Summerton, aged five years, disappeared mysteri- ously from his paternal residence on Folsqjn Street, San Francisco. At twenty-five minutes past nine he had been observed, by the butcher, amusing himself by going through that popular youthful exercise known as " turning the crab," a feat in which he was singularly proficient. At a court of inquiry sum- marily held in the back parlor at 10.15, Bridget, cook, deposed to have detected him at twenty min- utes past nine, in the felonious abstraction of sugar from the pantry, which, by the same token, had she known what was a-comia', she'd have never previnted. Patsey, a sTirUl-voiced youth from a neighboring alley, testified to having seen " Chowley," at half past nine, in front of the butcher's shop round the comer, but as this young gentleman chose to throw 174 SUEPEISING ADVENTUEES. out the gratuitous belief that the missing child, had been converted into sausages by the butcher, his tes- timony was received with some caution by the female portion of the court, and with downright scorn and contumely by its masculine members. But what- ever might have been the hour of his departure, it was certain that from half-past ten A, M. until nine P. M., when he was brought home by a policeman, Charles Summerton was missing. Being naturally of a reti- cent disposition, he has since resisted, with but one exception, any attempt to wrest from him a state- ment of his whereabouts during that period. That exception has been myself. He has related to me the following in the strictest confidence : His intention on leaving the door-steps of his dwelling was to proceed without delay to Van Die- man's Land, by way of Second and Market streets. This project was subsequently modified so far as to permit a visit to Otaheite, where Captt Cook was killed. The outfit for his voyage consisted of two car tickets, five cents in silver, a fishing line, the brass capping of a spool of cotton, which, in his eyes, bore some resemblance to metallic currency, and a Sunday school library ticket His garments, admir- ably adapted to the exigencies of any climate, were severally, a straw hat with a pink ribbon, a striped shirt, over which a pair of trousers, uncommonly wide in comparison to their length, were buttoned, striped balmoral stockings, which gave his youthful legs something of the appearance of wintergreen candy, and copper- toed shoes with iron heels, capa- SXmPEISING ADVENTUBES. 175 ble of striking fire from any flag-stone. This latter quality, Master Charley could not help feeling, would be of infinite service to him in the wilds of Van Die- man's Land, which, as pictorially represented in his ge'ogifephy, seemed to be deficient in corner^ groceries and matches. Exactly as tbe clock struck the half hour, the short lega^and straw hat of Master Charles Summer- ton disappeared around the comer. He ran rapidly, partly by way of inuring himself to the fatigues of the journey before Mm, and partly by way of testing his speed with that of a North Beach car which was proceeding in his direction. The conductor not be- ing aware of this generous and lofty emulation, and being somewhat concerned at the spectacle of a pair of very short, twinkling legs so far in the rear, stopped, his car and generally assisted the youthful Summerton upon the platform. From this point a hiatus of several hours' duration occurs in Master Charles's narrative. He is under the impression that lie " rode out" not only his two tickets, but that he became subsequently indebted to the company for sev- eral trips to and from the opposite termini, and that at last, resolutely refusing to give any explanation of his conduct, he was finally ejected, much to Ms relief, on a street comer. Although, as he informs us, he felt perfectly satisfied with tMs arrangement, he was impelled under the circumstances to hurl after the conductor an opprobrious appellation which he had ascertained from Patsey was the correct^ tMng in such emergencies, and possessed peculiarly exas- perating properties. 176 SUBPEISING ADYEaSTUBES We now approacli a tlirilling part of tte narrative, before -which most of the adventures of the " Boys' Own Book" pale into insignificance. There are times when tlie recollection of this adventure causes Master Charles to break out in a cold sweat, and he has several times since its occurrence been awakened by lamentations and outcries in tlie night season by merely dreaming of it On the corner of the street lay several large empty sugar hogsheads. A few young gentlemen disported themselves therein, armed witb sticks, with which they removed the. sugar which still adhered to the joints of the staves, and conveyed it to their mouths. Finding a cask not yet pre-empted, Master Charles set to work, and for a few moments reveled in a wild saccharine dream, whence he was finally roused by an angry voice and the mpidly retreating footsteps of his comrades. An ominous sound smote his ear, and the next moment he felt the cask wherein he lay uplifted and get up- right against the wall He was a prisoner, but as yet undiscovered. Being satisfied in his mind that hanging was the systematic and legalized penalty for the outrage he had committed, he kept down man- fully the cry that rose to his lips. In a few moments he felt the cask again lifted* by a powerful hand, which appeared above him at the edge of his prison, and which he concluded belonged to the ferocious giant Blunderbore, whose features and limbs he had fi?equently met in colored pictures. Before he could recover from his astonishment, his cask was placed with several others on a cart, and SUEPEISING ADVENTUKES. 177 rapidly driven away. The ride wMch ensued, lie describes as being fearful in tbe extreme. EoUed around like a pill in a box, tbe agonies ■wMch. be suffered may be hinted at, not spoken. Evidences of that protracted struggle were visible in his gar- ments, which were of the consistency of syrup, and his hair, which for several hours, under the treatment of hot water, yielded a thin treacle. At length the cart stopped on one of the wharves, and the cartman began to unload. As he tilted over the cask in which Charles lay, an exclamation broke from his lips, and the edge of the cask fell from his hands, sliding its late occupant upon the wharf To regain his short legs, and to put th^" greatest possible distance between himself and the cartman, were his first movements on regaining his liberty. He did not stop until he had reached the corner of Front street Another blank succeeds in this veracious history. He cannot remember how or when he found himself in front of the circus tent He has an indistinct rec- ollection of having passed through a long street of stores which were all closed, and which made him fear that it was Sunday, and that he had spent a miserable night in the sugar cask. But he remem- bers hearing the sound of music within the tent, and of creeping on his hands and knees, when no one was looking, until he passed under the canvas. His idescription of the, wonders contained within that cir- cle ; of the terrific feats which were performed by a man on a pole, since practised by him in the back yard ; of the horses, one of which was spotted and 178 SUEPEISING ADVENTUEES. resembled an animal in Ids Noali's Ark, hitherto un- recognized and undefined, of the female equestrians, whose dresses could only be equaled in magnifi- cence to the fi-ocks of his sister's doll, of the painted- clown, whose jokes excited a meniment, somewhat "tinged by an undefined fear, was an effort of language which this pen could but weakly transcribe, and which no quantity of exclamation points could suffi- ciently illustrate. He is not quite certain what fol- lowed. He remembers that almost immediately on leaving the circus it became dark, and that he fell asleep, waking up at intervals on the corners of the streets, on front steps, in somebody's arms, and finally in his own bed- He was not aware of experiencing any regret for his conduct, he does not recall feeling at any time a disposition to go home — ^he remembers disttnctly that he felt hungry. He has made this disclosure in confidence. He wishes it to be respected. He wants to know if you have five cents about you. SIDEWALKOGS. The time occupied in walking to and from my business I liave always found to yield jne a certain mental enjoyment whicli no other part of the twenty-four hours could give. Perhaps the physi- cal exercise may have acted as a gentle stimulant of the brain, but more probably the comfortable consciousness that I could not reasonably be ex- pected to be doing anything else — ^to be stul&ying or improving my mind, for instance — always gave a joyous liberty to my fancy. I once thought it necessary to employ this interval in doing sums in arithmetic — ^in which useful study I was 'and still am lamentably deficient — ^but after one or two at- tempts at peripatetic computation, I gave it up. I am satisfied that much enjoyment is fcst to the world by this nervous anxiety to improve our leisure moments, which, like the "shining hours" of Dr. Watts, unfortunately ofier the greatest facili- ties for idle pleasure. I feel a profound pity for those misguided beings who are still impelled to carry text-books with- them in cars, omnibuses and ferry-boats, and who generally manage- to defraud 180 BIDEWAIKINGS. themselves of tliose intervals of rest they most re quire. Natiire must must have her fallow moments, when she covers her exhausted fields with flowers instead of grain. Deny her this, and the next crop suffers for it I offer this axiom as some apology for obtruding upon the reader a few of the specula- tions whicli have engaged my mind during these daily perambulations. Few Califomians know how to lounge gracefully. Business habits and a deference to the custom, even with those who have no business, give an "air of rest- less anxiety to every pedestrian. The exceptions to this rule are apt to go to the other extreme, and wear a defiant, obtrusive kind of indolence which suggests quite as much inward disquiet and unrest. The shiftless lassitude of a gambler can never be mistaken for the lounge of a gentleman. Even the brokers who loiter upon Montgomery Street at high noon are not loungers. Look at them closely and you will see a feverishness and anxiety under the mask of listlessness. They do not lounge — ^they lie in wait No surer sign, I imagine, of our peculiar civilization can be found than this lack of repose in its constituent elements. You cannot keep Oalifor- nians quiet even in their amusements. They dodge in and out of the theatre, opera and lecture-room ; they prefer the street cars to walking because they think they get along faster. The difference of loco- motion between Broadw,ay, New York, and Mont- gomery Street, San Francisco, is a comparative view of eastern and western civilization. SIDEWALKINGS. 181 There is a habit peculiar to many walkers, which Punch, some years ago, touched upon satirically, but which seems to have survived the jester's ridicule. It is that custom of stopping friend^ in the street, to whom we have nothing whatever to communicate, but whom we embarrass, for no other purpose than simply to show our friendship. Jones meets his friend "Smith, whom he has met in nearly the same locality but a few hours before. During that inter- val, it is highly probable that no event of any im- portance to' Smith, nor indeed to Jones, which by a friendly construction Jones could imagine Smith to be interested in, has occurred, or is likely to occur. Yet both gentlemen stop and shake hands earnestly. " "Well, how goes it?" remarks Smith with a vague hope that something may have happened. " So so," replies the eloquent Jones, feeling intuitively the deep vacuity of his friend answering to his own. A pause ensues, in which both gentlemen regard each other with an imbecile smile and a fervent pressure of the hand. Smith draws a long breath and looks up the street ; Jones sighs heavily and gazes down the street. Another pause, in which both gentle- men disengage their respective hands and glance anxiously around for some conventional avenue of escape. Finally, Smith (with a sudden assumption of having forgotten an important engagement,) ejacu- lates, " "Well, I must be off," — a remark instantly echoed by the voluble Jones, and these gentlemen separate, only to repeat their miserable formula the next day. In the above example I have compas- 182 SIDEWALKINGS. sionately shortened the usual leave-taking, which in skillful hands may be protracted to a length which I shudder to recall. I have sometimes, when an active participant in these atrocious transactions, lingered in the hope of saying something natural to my friend, (feeling that he too was groping in the mazj laby- rinths of his mind for a like expression,) until I have felt that we ought to have been separated by a policeman. It is astonishing how far the most wretched joke will go in these emergencies, and how it will, as it were, convulsively detach the two cohe- ring particles. I have laughed (albeit hysterically) at some witticism under cover of which I escaped, that five minutes afterward I could not perceive pos- sessed a grain of humor. I would, advise any per- son who may fall into this pitiable strait, that, next to getting in the way of a passing di'ay and being forcibly disconnected, a joke is the most ef&cacious. A foreign phrase often may be tried with success ; I have sometimes known Au revoir pronounced " 0-re- veer," to have the effect (as it ought) of severing friends. But this is a harmless habit compared to a certain reprehensible practice ia which sundry feeble-minded young men indulge. I have been stopped in the street and enthusiastically accosted by some fashion- able young man who has engaged me in animated conversation, until (quite accidentally) a certain young belle would pass, whom my friend, of course, saluted. As, by a strange coincidence, this occurred several times in the course of the week, and as my SrDEWAJ.KINGS. 183 young Mend's conversational powers invariably flagged after the lady had passed, I am forced to be- lieve that the deceitful- young wretch actually used me as a conventional background to display the graces of his figure to the passing fair. When I de- tected the trick, of course I made a poiat of keeping my friend, by strategic movements, with his back to- ward the young lady, while I bowed to her myself Since then, I understand that it is a regular custom of these callow youths, to encounter each other, with simulated cordiality, some paces in front of the young lady they wish to recognize, so that she can- not possibly cut them. The corner of California and Montgomery Streets is their favorite haunt. They may be easily detected by their furtive expression of eye, which betrays them even in the height of their apparent enthusiasm. Speaking of eyes, you can generally settle the average gentility and good breeding of the people you meet in the street by the manner in which they return or evade your glance. " A gentleman," as the Autocrat has wisely said, is always "calm-eyed." There is just enough abstraction in his look to denote his iudividual power and the capacity for self-contem- plation, while he is, nevertheless, quietly and unobtru- sively observant He does not seek, neither does he evade, your observation. Snobs and prigs do the first ; bashful -and mean people do the second. There are some men who, on meeting your eye, immediate- ly assume" an expression quite different from the one which they previously wore, which, whether an im- 184: ' SIDEWALKINGS. provement or not, suggests a disagreeable self-con.- scioTisness. Perhaps they fancy they are betraying something. There are others-who return your look with unnecessary defiance, which suggests a like con- cealment The symptoms of the eye are generally borne out in the figure. A man is very apt to be- tray his character by the manner in which he appro- priates his part of the sidewalk. The man who reso- lutely keeps the middle of the pavement, and delib- erately brushes against you, you may be certain would take the last piece of pie at the hotel table, and empty the cream jug on its way to your, cup. The man who sidles by you, keeping close to the houses, and seleeting the easiest planks, manages to slip through life in some such way, and to evade its sternest duties. The awkward man, who gets in your way, and throws you back upon the man behind you, and so manages to derange the har- monious procession of an entire block, is very apt to do the same thing in political and social economy. The inquisitive man, who deliberately shortens his pace, so that he may participate iu the confidence you impart to your companion, has an eye not unfamiliar to keyholes, and probably opens his wife's letters. The loud man, who talks with the intention of being overheard, is the same egotist elsewhere. If there was any justice in laigo's Bn^er, that there were some " so weak of soul that in ..their sleep they mutter their afifairs," what shall be said of the walking reverie-babblers? I have met men who were evidently rolling over, " like a SIDEWALKINGS. 185 sweet morsel under tlie tongue," some speecTi they were about to make, and otliers who wore framing curses. I remember once tbat, while walking be- hind an apparently respectable old gentleman, he suddenly uttered the exclamation, "Well, -I'm d — d ! " and then quietly resumed his usual manner. Whether he had at that moment become impressed with a truly orthodox disbelief in his ultimate salva- tion, or whether he was simply indignant, I never could tell. I have been hesitating for some time to speak — or if indeed to speak at all — of that lovely and critic- defying sex, whose bright eyes and voluble prattle have not been without effect in tempering the aus- terities of my peripatetic musing. I have been hum- bly thankfiil that I have been permitted to view their bright dresses and those charming bonnets which seem to have brought the birds and flowers of spring within the dreary limits of the town, and — ^I trust I shall not be deemed unkind in saying it — ^my pleasure was not lessened by the reflection that the display, to me at least, was inexpensive. I have walked in — and I fear occasionally on — ^the train of the loveliest of her sex who has preceded me. If 1 have sometimes wondered why two young ladies al- ways began to talk vivaciously on the approach of any good-looking fellow ; if I have wondered whether- the mirror-like qualities of all large show-windows at all influenced their curiosity regarding silks and calicoes ; if I have ever entei^ained the same ungentle- manly thought concerniii^ daguerreotype show cases ; 186 SEDEWAIiKINGS. if I liave ever misinterpreted the eye-sliot wliicli lias passed between two pretty women — ^more searcliing, exlianstive and sincere than any of our feeble ogles ; if I have ever committed these or any other imper- tinences, it was only to retire beaten and discomfit- ted, and to confess that naascuHae philosophy, while it soars beyond Sirius and the ring of Saturn, stops short at the steel periphery which encompasses the simplest school-girL A BOYS' DOG-. As I lift my_ eyes from tlie paper, I observe a dog lying on the steps of tlie opposite house. His atti- tude might induce passers-by and casual observers to believe him to belong to the people who live there, and to apcord to him a certain standing position. I have seen visitors pat him, under the impression that they were doing an act of courtesy to his master — ^he lending himself to the fraud by hypocritical contor- tions of the body. But his attitude is one of deceit and simulation. He has neither master nor habita- tion. He is a. very Pariah and outcast ; in brief " A Boys' Dog." There is a degree of hopeless and irreclaimable vagabondage expressed in this epithet, which may not be generally understood. Only those who are familiar with the roving nature and predatory instincts of boys in large cities will appreciate its strength. It is the lowest step in the social scale to, which a re- spectable canine can descend. A blind man's dog, or the companion of a knife-grinder, is comparatively elevated. He at least owes allegiance to but one master. But the Boys' Dog is the thraU of an entire 188 A boys' dog. juvenile commumty, obedient to tlie beck and call of tbe smallest imp in tlie neighborbood, attacbed to and serving not tbe individual boy so mucb as tbe boy element and principle. In tbeir active sports — in small tbefts, raids into back-yards, window-break- ing and otber minor juvenile recreations — be is a full participant. In tbis way be is tbe reflection of tbe wickedness of many masters, without possessing tbe virtues or peculiarities of any particular one. If leading a " dog's life " be considered a peculiar pbase of buman misery, tbe life of a Boys' dog is still more infelicitous. He is associated in all schemes of wrong-doing, and unless be be a dog of experience, is always the scape-goat He never shares the booty of bis associates. In absence of legitimate amusement, be is considered fair game for bis companions ; and I have seen him reduced to tbe ignominy of having a tin kettle tied to his tail. His ears and tail have generally been docked to suit tbe caprice of tbe unholy band of which be is a mem- ber ; and if be bas any spunk, be is invariably pitted against larger dogs in mortal combat He is poorly fed and hourly abused ; tbe reputation of bis asso- ciates debars Mm from outside sympathies ; and once a Boys' dog, he cannot change bis condition. He is not unfrequently sold into slavery by bis inbumam companions. I remember once to have been accosted on my own doorsteps by a couple of precocious youths, who offered to sell me a dog which they were then leading by a rope. The price was ex- tremely moderate, being, if I remember rightly, but A boys' dog. 189 fifty cents. Imagining the unfortunate animal to have lately fallen into their •wicked hands, and anx- ious to reclaim him from the degradation of becom- ing a Boys' dog, I was about to conclude the bar- gain, when I saw a look of intelligence pass between the dog and his two masters. I promptly stopped all negotiation, and drove the youthful swindlers and their four-footed accomplice from my presence. The ^whole thing was perfectly plaiil. The dog was an old, experienced, and hardened Boys' dog, and I was perfectly satisfied that he would run away and re^ join his old companions at the first opportunity. This I afterwards learned he did, on the occasion of a kind-hearted but unsophisticated neighbor buying him : and a few days ago I saw him exposed for sale by those. two Arcadians, in another neighborhood, having been bought and paid for half-a-dozen times in this. But, it will be asked, if the life of a Boys' dog is so unhappy, why do they enter upon such an unenvi- able situation, and why do they not dissolve the part- nership when it taecomes unpleasant ? I will confess that I have been often puzzled by this question. For some time I could not make up my mind whether their unholy alliance was the result of the influence of the dog on the boy, or vice versa, and which was the weakest and most impressible nature. I am sat- isfied now that, at first, the dog is undoubtedly influ- enced by the boy, and, as it were, is led, while yet a puppy, from the paths of canine rectitude by artful and designing boys. Ashe grows older and more 190 A boys' dog. experienced in tlie ways of tis Boliemian friends, he becomes a willing decoy, and takes delight in lead- ing boyish innocence astray — ^in beguiling children to play truant, and thus revenges his own degrada- tion on the boy nature generally. It is in this rela- tion, and in regard to certain unhallowed practices I have detected him in, that I deem it proper to expose to parents and guardians the danger to which their offspring are exposed by the Boys' dog. The Boys' dog lays his plans artfully. He begins to influence the youthful mind by suggestions of un- restrained freedom and frolic which he offers in his own person. He will lie in wait at the garden gate for a very small boy, and endeavor to lure him out- side its sacred precincts, by gambolling and jumping " a little laeyond the inclosure. He will set off on an imaginary chase and run around the block in a perfectly frantic manner, and then return, breathless, to his former position, with a look as of one who would say, " There, you see how perfectly easy it's done !" Should the unhappy infant find it difficult to resist the effect which this glimpse of the area of freedom produces, and step beyond the gate, from that moment he is utterly demoralized. The Boys' 'dog owns him body and soul. Straightway he is led by the deceitful brute into the unhallowed circle of his Bohemian masters. Sometimes the unfortunate boy, if he be very small, turns up eventually at the station-house as a lost child. Whenever I meet a stray boy in the street looking utterly bewildered and astonished, I generally find a Boys' dog lurking A boys' dog. 191 on tlie comer. When I read tlie adyertisments.of lost children, I always add mentally to the descrip- tion, "was last seen in company with a Boys' dog." Nor is his influence wholly confined to small boys. I have seen him waiting patiently for larger boys on the way to school, and by artful and sbpliistical practices inducing them to play truant. I have seen him lying at the school-house door, with the inten- tion of enticing the children on their way home to distant and remote loc^ities. He has led many an unsuspecting boy to the wharves and quays by as- suming the character of a water-dog, which he was not, and again has induced others to go with him on a gunning excursion by pretending to be a sporting dog, in which quality he was knowingly deficient. Unsgrupulous, hypocritical and deceitful, he has won many children's hearts by answering to any name they might call him, attaching himself to their per- sons until they got into trouble, and deserting them at the very moment they most needed his assistance. I have seen him rob small school-boys of their din- ners by pretending to knock them down by accident ; and have seen larger boys in turn dispossess him of his ill-gotten booty, for their own private gratifica- tion. From being a tool, he has grown to be an ac- complice — ^through much imposition he has -learned to impose on others — ^in his best character he is sim- ply a vagabond's vagabond^ I could find it in my heart to pity him, as he lies there through the long sunamer afternoon, enjoying brief intervals of tranquillity and rest which he 192 A BOYS DOG. surreptitioTisly snatches from a stranger's doorstep. For a slirill whistle is heard in the streets, the boys are coining home from school, and he is startled from his dreams by a deftly-thrown potato which hits him on the head, and awatens him to the stem reality that he is now and forever — a Boys' dog. CHARITABLE REHMSCENCES. ^ As tlie new Benevolent Association lias had. tlie effect of witlidrawing beggars from the streets, and as Professional Mendicancy bids fair to be presently ranked with the Lost Arts, to preserve some records of thi§ noble branch of industry, I have endeavored to recall certain traits and peculiarities of individual members of the order whom I have known, and whose forms I now miss from their accustomed haunts. In so doing, I confess to feeling a certain regret at this decay of Professional Begging, for I hold the theory that mankind are bettered by the occasional spectacle of misery, whether simulated or not, on the same principle , that our sympathies are enlarged by the fictitious woes of the Drama, though we know that the actors are insincere. Perhaps I am indiscreet in saying that I have rewarded the artfully dressed and well acted performance of the begging impostor through the same impulse that impelled me to ex- pend a dollar in witnessing the counterfeited sorrows of poor " Triplet," as represented by Charles Wheat- leigh. I did not quarrel with deceit in either case. 9 _194: CHAEITABLE EEMINISOENCES. My coin was given in recognition of the sentiment • the moral responsibility rested with the performer. The principal figure that I now mourn over as lost forever is one that may have been familiar to many of my readers. It was that of a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, foreign-looking woman, who supported in her arms a sickly baby. As a pathological phe- nomen on the baby was especially interesting, having presented the Hippocratic face and other symptoms of immediate dissolution, without change for the past three years. The woman never verbally soli- cited arms. Her appearance was always mute, mys- terious and sudden. She made no other appeal than that which the dramatic tableau of herself and baby suggested, with an outstretched hand and deprecating eye sometimes superadded. She usually stood in my doorway, silent and patient, intimating her pres- ence; if my attention were preoccupied, by a slight cough from her baby, whom I shall always believe had its part to play in this little pantomime, and gen- erally obeyed a secret signal from the maternal hand. It was useless for me to refuse alms, to plead bus- iness or affect inattention. She never moved ; her position was always taken with an appearance of latent capabilities of endurance and experience in waiting which never failed to impress me 'with awe and the futility of any hope of escape. There was also something m the reproachful expression of her eye, which plainly said to me, as I bent over my paper, "Go on with your mock sentimentalities and siniu- lated pathos; portray the imaginary sufferings of CHAEITABLE EEMINISCENCES. 195 your bodiless creations, spread your thin web of pM- losophy, but look you, sir, here is real misery ! Here is genuine suffering !" I confess that this artfal sug- gestion usually brought me down. In three minutes after she had thus invested the citadel, I usually sur- rendered at discretion without a gun having been fired on either side. She received my offering and retired as mutely and. mysteriously as she had ap- peared, Pferhaps it was well for me that she did not know her strengtL I might have been forcedy had this terrible woman been conscious of her real power, to have borrowed money which I could not pay, or have forged a check to purchase immunity from her awful presence. I hardly know if I make- myself understood, and yet I am unable to define my meaning more clearly when I say that there was something in her glance which suggested to the per- son appealed to, when in the presence of others, a certain idea of some individual responsibility for her sufferings, which, while it never failed to affect him with a mingled sense of ludicrousness and terror, al- ways made an impression of unqualified gravity on the minds of the bystanders. As she has disappeared within the last month, I imagine that she has found a home at the San Francisco Benevolent Association — > at least, I cannot conceive of any charity, however guarded by wholesome checks or sharp-ey«d almoners, that could resist that mute- apparition. I should like to go there and inquire abont her and also learn if the baby was 'convalescent or dead, but I am sat- isfied that she would rise up a mute and reproachful 196 CHAEITABLE KEMINISCENCES » appeal, so personal in its artful suggestions, that it would end in tlie Association instantly transferring her to my hands. My neKt familiar mendicant was a vendor of printed ballads. These' effusions were so stale, atro- cious, and unsalable in their character, that it was easy to detect that hypocrisy, which — ^in imitation of more ambitious beggary — ^veiled the real eleemosy- nary appeal, under the thin pretext of offering an equivalent This beggar — an aged female in a rusty bonnet — ^I unconscioiisly precipitated upon myself in an evil moment. On our first meeting, while dis- tractedly turning over the ballads, I came upon a cer- tain production entitled, I think, " The Fire Zouave," and was struck with the truly patriotic and American manner in which " Zouave " was made to rhyme in different stanzas with " grave, brave, save and glaive." As I purchased it at once, with a gratified expres- sion of c&untenance, it soon became evident that the act was misconstrued by my poorfi-iend, who, irom that moment, never ceased to haunt me. Perhaps, in the whole course of her precarious existence, she had never before sold a ballad. My solitary pur- chase evidently itiade me, in her eyes, a customer, and in a measure exalted her vocation; so, thereafter, she regularly used to look in at my door, with a chirping confident air, and the question, " Any more songs to-day ?" as though it were some necessary article of daily consumption. I never took any more of her songs, although that circumstance did hot shake her faith in my literary taste ; my abstinence from this CHAEITABLE EEMINISCENCES. 197 exciting mental pabvilam being probably ascribed to cbaritable motives. She was finally absorbed by tbe S. F. B. A., wbo have probably made a proper dis- position of ber effects. She was a little old woman, of Celtic origin, predisposed to melancboly, and look- ing as if she bad read most of ber ballads. My next reminiscence takes tbe sbape of a very seedy individual, wbo bad, for tbree or four years, been vainly attempting to get back to Ms relatives in Illinois, wbere sympathizing friends and a comforta- ble alms-house awaited him. _ Only a few dollars, he informed me— the uncontributed remainder of the amount necessary to purchase a steerage ticket — stood in bis way. These last few dollars seem to have been most difELcult to get — and he had wandered about, a sort of antithetical Flying Dutchman, fore- ever putting to sea, yet never getting away from shore. He was a "49-er," and had recently been blown up in a tunnel, or had fallen down a shaft, I forget which. This sad accident obliged him to use large quantities of whisky as a liniment, which, he informed me, occasioned the mild fragrance 'v^hich his garments exhaled. Though belonging to the same class, he was not to be confounded with the un- fortunate niiaer who could not get back to his claim without pecuniary assistance, or tbe desolate Italian, who hopelessly handed you a document in a foreign language, very much bethumbed and illegible— which, in your ignorance of the tongue, you couldn't _help suspiciously feeling might have been a price current — but which you could see was proffered as an ex- 198 CHAEITABLE EEMINISCENCE3. cuse for alms. Indeed, whenever any stranger hand' ed me, without speaking, an open document, which bore the marks of having been carried in the greasy lining of a hat, I always felt saf& in giving him a quarter and dismissing him without further question- ing. 1 always noticed that these circular letters, when written in the vernacular, were remarkable for their beautiful caligraphy and^ammatical inaccu- racy, and that they all seemed to have been written by the same hand. Perhaps indigence exercises a peculiar and equal effect upon the handwriting. I recall a few occasional mendicants whose faces were less familiar. One afternoon a most extraor- dinary Irishman, with a black eye, a bruised hat, and other traces of past enjoyment, waited upon me with a pitiful story of destitution and want, and concluded by requesting the usual trifle. I replied, with some severity, that if I gave him a dime he would proba- bly spend it for drink. "Be Gorra! but you're roight — 1 wad that I" he answered promptly. I was so muchj;aken aback by this imexpected exhibition of frankness that I instantly handed over the dime. It seems that Truth had survived the wreck of his other virtues ; he did get drunk, and, impelled by a like conscientious sense of duty, exhibited himself to me in that state, a few hours after, to show that my boimty had not been misapplied. In spite of the peculiar characters of these remin- iscences, I cannot help feeling a certain regret at the decay of Professional Mendicancy. Perhaps it may be owing to a lingering trace of that youthful super- CHAEITABtE EEMINISCENCES 199 stitioix which saw in all beggars a possible prince or fairy, and invested their calling with a mysterious awe. Perhaps it may be froni a belief that there is something m the old-fashioned alms-giyings and act- ual contact with misery, that is wholesome for both donor and recipient, and that any system which in- terposes a third party between them is only putting on a thick glove, which, while it preserves us from contagion, absorbs and deadens the kindly pressure of our hand. It is a very pleasant thing to purchase re- lief from annoyance and trouble of having to weigh the claims of an afflicted neighbor. As I turn over these printed tickets, which the courtesy of San Francisco Benevolent Association has — ^by a slight stretch of the imagination in supposing that any sane unfortunate might rashly seek relief from a newspaper office — conveyed to these editorial hands, I cannot help wondering whether, when in our last extremity we come to draw upon the Immeasur- able Bounty, it will be necessary to present a ticket "SEEING THE STEAMER OFF." I HATE sometimes thought, while- watchiiig the departure of an Eastern steamer, that the act of part- ing from friends — so generally one of bitterness and despondency — ^is made by an iagenious Califomian custom to yield a pleasurable excitement This lux- ury of leave-taking in which most Californians in- dulge, is often protracted to the hauling in of the gang-plank. Those last words, injunctions, promises, and embraces, which are mournful and depressing perhaps, in that privacy demanded on other occa- sions, are here, by reason of their very publicity, of an edifying and exhilarating character. A parting kiss blown from the deck of a steamer into a miscellaneous crowd, of course loses much of that sacred solem- nity with which foolish superstition is apt to invest it, A broadside of endearing epithets, even when properly aimed and apparently raking the whole wharf, is apt to be impotent and harmless. A hus- band who prefers to embrace his wife for the last time at the door of her stateroom, and finds himself the centre of an admiring group of unconcerned SEEING THE SIEAMEE OFF. 201 spectators, of course feels himself lifted above any feeling save tliat of ludicrousness whicli tlie situation suggests. The mother, parting from her offspring, should become a Eoman matron under the like influ- ences; the lover who takes leave of his sweetheart, is not apt to mar the general hilarity by any emotional folly. In fact, this system of delaying our parting .sentiments until the last moment — this removal of domestic scenery and incident to a public theatre — may be said to be worthy of a stoical and democratic people, and is an event in our lives which may be shared with the humblest coal-passer, or itinerant vendor of oranges. It is a return to that classic out- of-door experience and minghng of public and do- mestic economy which so ennobled the straight-nosed Athenian. So universal is this desire to be present at the de- parture of any steamer that, aside from the regular crowd of loungers who make their appearance con- fessedly only to look on, there are others who take advantage of the slightest intimacy to go through the leave-taking formula. People whom you have quite forgotten, people to whom you have been lately n- troduced, suddenly and unexpectedly make their appearance and wring your hands with fervor. The friend, long estranged, forgives you nobly at the last moment, to take- advantage of this, glorious opportu-> nity of "seeing you off." Your bootmaker, tailor, and hatter — ^haply with no ulterior motives and unaccompanied by official friends — ^visit you with enthusiasm. You find great difficulty in detaching 9* 202 SEEING THE STEAMEE OFF. your rektives and intimates from tlie trunks on wMcli they resolutely seat themselves, up to the moment when the paddles are moving, and you are hb,unted continually hj an ill-defined idea that they may be carried off, and foisted on you — ^with the .payment of their passage, which, under the circum- stances, you could not refuse — ^for the rest of the voyage. Acquaintances will make their appearance at the most inopportune moments, and from the most unexpected places — dangling from hawsers, climhing up paddle-boxes, and crawling through cabin win- dows at the imminent peril of their lives. You are nervous and crushed by this added weight of respon- sibility. Should you be a stranger, you will find any nimiber of people, on board, who will cheerfully and at a venture take leave of you on the slightest ad- vances made on your part A friend of mine assures me that he once parted, with great enthusiasm and cordiality, from a party of gentlemen, to him personally unknown, who had apparently mistaken his state-room. This party — evidently connected with some fire company — on comparing notes on the wharf, being somewhat dissatisfied with the result of their performances, afterward rendered my friend's position on the hurricane deck one of extreme peiil and inconvenience, by reason of sMllfiilly projected oranges and apples, not unaccompanied with inyec- tive. Yet there is certainly something to interest us in ..the examination of that cheerless damp closet, whose painted woodftn walls no famiture or company can SEEING THE STEAMEE OIT. 203 make habitable, wberein our fiiend is to spend so many vapid days and restless nights. The sight of these apartments, yclept state-rooms — Heaven knows why, except it be from their want of coziness — is full of keen reminiscences to most Califomians ■ who have not outgrown the memories of that dreary interval when, in obedience to Nature's wise compen- sations, homesickness was blotted out by seasickness, and both at last resolved into a chaotic and distem- pered dream, whose details we now recognize. The steamer chair that we used to drag out upon the nar- row strip of deck and doze in, over the pages of a well-thumbed novel ; the deck itself — of afternoons, redolent with the skins of oranges and bananas — :of mornings, damp with salt-water and mopping ; the netted bulwark, smelling of tar in the tropics, and fretted on the windward side with little saline crys- tals : the villainously compounded odors of victuals from the pantry, and oil from the machinery; the young lady that we used to flirt with, and with whom we shared our last novel, adorned with marginal an- notation; our own chum; our own bore; the man who was never sea-sick ; the two events of the day, breakfast and dinner, and the dreary interval be- tween ; the tremendous importance given to trifling events and trifling people ; the young lady who kept a journal; the newspaper, published on board, filled with mild pleasantries and impertmences, elsewhere unendurable ; the young lady who sang ; the wealthy passenger ; the popular passenger ; the — pjet us sit down for a moment until this qualmish- 204 SEEraa the steamer off. ness, wHcL. sucli associations and some infectious quality of tlie atmosphere seems to produce, has passed away. What becomes of our steamer fi-iends ? Why are we now so apathetic about them ? Why is it that we drift away from them so unconcernedly, forgetting even their names and faces ? Why, when' we do remember them, do we look at them so sus- piciously, with an undefined idea that, in the unre- strained freedom of the voyage, they become possess- ed of some confidence and knowledge of our weak- nesses that we never should have imparted? Did we make any such confessions ? Perish the thought The popular man, however, is not now so f)opular. We have heard^ finer voices than that of the young lady who sang so sweetly. Our chum's fascinating qualities, somehow, have deteriorated on land ; so have those of the fair young novel-reader, now the wife of an honest miner iu Virginia City.J — The passenger who made so many trips, and ex- hibited a reckless familiarity with the of&cers; the officers themselves, now so modest and undemon- strative, a few hours later so all-powerful and impor- tant — ^these are among the reminiscences of most Californians, and these are to be remembered among the experiences of our friend. Yet he feels as we all do, that his past experience will be of profit to him, and has already the confident air of an old voy- ager. As you stand on the wharf again, and listen to the cries of itinerant fruit vendors, you wonder why it is that grief at parting and the unpleasant novel- SEEING THE STEAMEB OFF, 205 ties of travel are supposed to be assuaged by orange and apples, even at ruinously low prices. Perhaps it may be, figuratively, the last oiTering of the fruit- ful earth, as the passenger commits himself to the bosom of the sterile and unproductive ocean. Even while the wheels are moving and the lines are cast off, some hardy apple merchant, mounted on the top of a pile, concludes a trade with a steerage passenger — twenty feet interposing between buyer and seller — and achieves, under these difficulties, the delivery of his wares. Handkerchiefs wave, hurried orders mingle with parting blessings, and the steamer is' " off." - As you turn your face cityward, and glance hurriedly around at the recreating crowd, you will see a reflection of your own wistfal face in theirs, and read the solution of one of the problems which perplex the California enthusiast. Before you lies San Francisco, with her hard angular outlines, her brisk, invigorating breezes, her bright, but unsym- pathetic sunshine, her restless and energetic popula- tion ; behind you fades the recollection of changeful but honest sides : of extremes of heat and cold, mod- ified and made enjoyable through social and physical laws, of pastoral landscapes, of accessible Nature in her kindliest forms, of inherited virtues, of long- tested customs and habits, of old friends and old faces — of Home ! NEIGHBORHOODS I HAVE MOVED FROM. A BAT WINDOW once settled the choice of my house and compensated for many of its inconvenien- ces. When the chimney smoked, or the doors alter- nately shrunk and swelled, resisting any forcible at- tempt to open them, or opening of themselves with ghostly deliberation, or when suspicious blotches appeared on the ceiling in rainy weather, there was always the bay window to turn to for comfort. And the view was a fine one. Alcatraz, Lime Point, Fort Point and Saucelito were plainly visible over a rest- less expanse of water that changed continually, glit- tering in the sunlight, darkening in rocky shadow, or sweeping in mimic waves on a miniature beach below. Although at first the bay window was supposed to be sacred to myself and my writing materials, in obedience to some organic law, it by-and-bye be- came a general lounging-place. A rocking-chair and crochet-basket one day found their way thera Then NEIGHBOEHOODS I HA,VE MOTED FEOM. 207 the baby invaded its recesses, fortifying bimself be- hind intrenchments of colored .worsteds and spools of cotton, from which he was only dislodged by con- certed assault, and carried lamenting into captivity. A subtle glamour crept over all who came within its influence. To apply oneself to serious work there was an absurdity. An incoming ship, a gleam on the water, a cloud lingering about Tamaulipas, were enough to distract the attention. Reading or writ- ing, the bay window was always. showing something to be looked at. Unfortunately, these views were not always pleasant, but the window gave equal prominence and importance to all, without respect to quality. The landscape in the vicinity was unimproved, but not rural The adjacent lots had apparently just given up bearing scrub-oaks, but had not seriously taken to bricks and mortar. In one direction the vista was closed by the Home of the Inebriates, not in itself a cheerfal-looking, building, and, as the ap- parent terminus of a ramble in a certain direction, having all the effect of a moral lesson. To a certain extent, however, this building was an imposition. The enthusiastic members of my family, who confi- dently expected to see its inmates hilariously disport- ing themselves at its windows in the different stages of inebriation portrayed by the late W. E. Burton were mach disappointed. The Home was reticent of its secrets. The County Hospital, also in range of the bay window, showed much more animation. At certain hours of the day convalescents passed in re- 208 NEIGHBOBHOODS I HATE MOYEaD FEOM. view before tlie window on their way to an airing. This spectacle was the still more depressing from a singular lack of sociability that appeared to prevail among them. Each man was encompassed by the impenetrable atmosphere of his own peculiar suffer- ing. They did not talk or walk together. From the window I have seen half a dozen sunning them- selves against a wall within a few feet of each other, to all appearance utterly oblivious of the fact Had they but quarreled or fought — anything would have been better than this horrible apathy. The lower end of the street on which the bay win- dow was situate, opened invitingly from a popular thoroughfare ; and after beckoning- the unwary stran- ger into its recesses, ended unexpectedly at a fright- ful precipice. On Sundays, when the travel North- Beachwards was considerable, the bay window de- lighted in the spectacle afforded by unhappy pedes- trians who were seduced into taking this street as a short cut somewhere else. It was amusing to notice how these people invariably, on coming to the preci- pice, glanced upward to the bay window and endea- vored to assume a careless air before they retraced their steps, whistling ostentatiously, as if they 'had previously known all about it. One high-spirited young man in particular, being incited thereto by a pair of mischievous bright eyes in an opposite win- dow, actually descended this fearful precipice rather than return, to the great peril of life and limb, and manifest injury to his Sunday clothes. Dogs, goats and horses constituted the fauna oi SEIGHBOEHOODS I HATE MOTED FEOM. 209 our neigliborliood. Possessing tlie lawless freedom of their normal condition, they still evinced a tender attachment to. man and liis habitations. Spirited , steeds got up extempore races on the sidewalks, turn- ing the street into a miniature /7orso;dogs wrangled in the areas ; while from the hill beside the house a goat browsed peacefully upon my wife's geraniums in the flower-pots of the sec&nd-story window. " We had a fine hail-storm last night," remarked a newly- arrived neighbor, who had just moved into the adjoin- ing house. It would have been a pity to set him right, as he was quite enthusiastic about the view and the general sanitary qualifications of the locality. So I didn't tell him anything- about the goats who were in the habit of using his house as a stepping stone to the adjoining hUl. But the locality was remarkably healthy. People who fell down the embankments found their wounds heal rapidly in the steady sea breeze. Ventilation was complete and thorough. The opening of the bay window produced a current of wholesome air which effectually removed all noxious exhalations, together with the curtains, the hinges of the back door, and the window shutters. Owing to this pecu- liarity, some of my writings acquired an extensive circulation and publicity in the neighborhood, which years in another . locality might not have produced. Several articles of wearing apparel, which were mys- teriously transposed from our clothes-line to that of an humble though honest neighbor, was undoubted- ly the result of these sanitary winds. Yet in spite of these advantages I found it convenient in a few 210 NEIGHBOEHOODS I ^AVE MOVED FEOM. mouths to move. And the result wTiereof I shall communicate in other papers. n. " A HOUSE with a fine garden and extensive shrub- bery, in a genteel neighborhood," were, if I remem- ber rightly, the general terms of an. advertisement which once decided my choice of a dwelling. I should add that this occurred at an early stage of my household experience, when I placed a trustful reli- ance in advertisements. I have since learned that the most truthful people are apt to indulge a slight vein of exaggeration in describing their own posses- sions, as though the mere circumstance of going into print were an excuse for a certain kind of mendacity. But I did not fully awaken to this fact until a much later period, when, in answering an advertisement which described a highly advantageous tenement, I was referred to the house I then occupied, and from which a thousand inconveniences were impelling me to move. The "fine garden" alluded to was not large, but contaiaed several peculiarly-shaped flower beds. I was at first struck with the singular resemblance which they bore to the mutton-chops that are usually brought on the table at hotels and restaurants — a re- semblance the more striking from the sprigs of par- sley which they produced freely. One plat ia par- ticular reminded me, not unpleasantly, of a peculiar cake, known to my boyhood as a bolivar. The NEIGHBOEHOODS I HAYE MOTED FEOM. 211 owner of the property, however, who seemed to be a man of original sesthetic ideas, had banked up one of these beds with bright-colored sea-shells, so thJlt in rainy weather it suggested an aquarium, and of- fered the elements of botanical and conchological study in pleasing j uxtaposition. I have since thought that the fish geraniums, which it also bore to a sur- prising extent, were introduced originally from some such idea of consistency. But it was very pleasant, after dinner, to ramble up and down the gravelly paths, (whose occasional boulders reminded me of the dry bed of a somewhat circuitous .mining stream,) smoking a cigar, or inhaling the rich aroma of fennel, or occasionally stopping to pluck one of the holly- hocks with which the garden abounded. The proli- fic qualities of this plant alarmed us greatly, for although, in the first- transport of enthusiasm, my wife planted several different kinds of flower seeds, nothing ever came up but hollyhocks ; and although, impelled by the same laudable impulse, I procured a copy of Downing' s Landscape Gardening, and a few gardening tools, and worked for several hours in the garden, my efforts were equally futile. The extensive shrubbery consisted of several dwarfed trees. One was very weak young weeping willow, so very limp and maudlin, and so evidently bent on establishing its reputation, that it had to be tied up against the house for support The damp- ness of that portion of the house was usually attribu- ted to the presence of this lachrymose shrub. And to these a couple of highly objectionable trees, known, I think, by the name of Malva, which made an inor- 212 NEIGHBOEHOODS I HAYE MOYED FBOM. dinate, show of clieap blossoms tliat they were con tinually shedding, and one or two dwarf oaks, with scaly leaves and a generally spiteful exterior, and you have what was not inaptly termed by one Miles- ian handmaid "the scrubbery." The gentility of- our neighbor suffered a blight from the unwholesome vicinity of McGinnis Court This court was a kind of cul de ^c that, on being penetrated, discovered a primitive people living in a state of barbarous freedom, and apparently spend- ing the greater portion of their lives on their own door-steps. Many of those details of the toilette which a popular prejudice restricts to the dressing-room in other localities, were here performed in the open court without fear and without reproach. Early in the week the court was hid in a choking, soapy mist, which arose from innumerable wash-tubs. This was fol- lowed in a day or two later by an extraordinary ex- hibition of wearing apparel of divers colors, flutter- ing on lines like a display of buntiag on ship-board, and whose flapping in the breeze was like irregular discharges of musketry. It was evident also that the court exercised a demoralizing influence over the whole neighborhood. A sanguine property-owner once put up a handsome dwelling on the corner of our street, and lived thereiu ; but although he, ap- peared frequently an his balcony, clad in a bright crimson dressing-gown, which made him look like a tropical bird of some rare and gorgeous species, he failed to woo any kindred dressing-gown to the vi- cinity, and only protoked opprobrious epithets from NEIGHBOEHOODS I HATE MOVED FROM. 213 the gamins of tlie court. He moved away sbortly aft- er, and on going by tlie house one day, I noticed a bill of "Eooms to let, with board," posted conspicu- ously on the Corinthian columns of the porcL Mc- Ginnis Court had triumphed. An interchange of civilities at once took place between the court and the servants' area of the palatial mansion, and some of the young men boarders exchange playful slang with the adolescent members of the court. From that mo- ment we felt that our claims to gentility were forever abandoned. ^ Yet, we enjoyed intervals of unalloyed content- ment When the twilight toned down the hard out- lines of the paks, and made shadowy clumps and formless masses of other bushes, it was quite roman- tic to sit by the window and inhale the faint, sad odor of the fennel in the walks below. Perhaps this economical pleasure was much enhanced by a pic- ture in my memory, whose faded colors the odor of this humble plant never failed to restore. Sq I often sat there of evenings and closed my eyes until the forms and benches of a country school-room came back to me, redolent with the incense of fennel cov- ertly stowed away in my desk, and gazed again in si- lent rapture on the round, red cheeks and long black braids of that peerless creature whose glance had of- ten caused my cheeks to glow over the preternatural collar, which at that period of my boyhood it was my pride and privilege to wear. As I fear I may be often thought hypercritical and censorious in these articles, I am willing to record this as one of the ad- 214 NEIGHBOEHOODS I HATE MOVED FROM. vantages of our new house, not mentioned in the ad- vertisement nor cliargeable in the rent May the present tenant, who is a stock-broker, and who im- presses me with the idea of having always been call- ed "Mr." from his cradle up, enjoy this advantage, and try sometimes to remember he was a boy ! nx Soon after I "moved into Happy Valley I was struck with the remarkable infelicity of its title. Generous as Oalifomians are in the use of adjectives, this passed into the domain of irony. But I was ia- clined to think it sincere — the production of a weak but gushing mind, just as the feminine nomenclature of streets in the vicinity was evidently bestowed by one in habitual communion with " Friendship's Gifts" and " Affection's Offerings." Our house on Laura Matilda Street looked some- what like a toy Swiss Cottage — a style of architect- ure so prevalent, that in walking down the block it was quite difficult to resist an impression of fresh glue and pine shavings. The few shade trees might have belonged originally to those oval Christmas boxes which contain toy villages ; and even thB peo- ple who sat by the windows had a stiffness that made them- appear surprisingly unreal and artificial A little dog belonging to a neighbor was known to the members of my household by the name of " Glass," from the general suggestion he gave of having been NEIGHBOEHOODS I HAVE MOTKD FBOM. 2l5 spun of tliat article. Perhaps I tave somewhat ex- aggerated tliese illustrations of the dapper nicety of' our neighborhood — a neatness and conciseness which I think has a general tendency to belittle, dwarf and contract their objects. For we gradually fell into small ways and narrow ideas, and to some extent squared the round world outside to the correct angles of Laura Matilda Street. One reason for this insincere quality may have been the fact that the very foundations of our neigh- borhood were artificial. Laura Matilda Street was "made grouncj." The land, not yet quite reclaimed, was continually struggling with its old enemy. We had not been long in our new home btifore we found a,n older tenant, not yet wholly divested of hiS rights, who sometimes showed himself in clammy peispiration on the basement • walls, whose damp breath chilled our dining-room, and in the night struck a niortal chilliness through the house. There were no patent fastenings thkt could keep him out — no writ of unlawful detainer that could eject him. In the winter his presence was quite palpable ; he sapped the roots of the trees, he gurgled under the kitchen floor, he wrought an unwholesome greehtless on the side of the verandah. In summer he became invisible, but stiU exercised a familiar influence over the locality. He planted little stitches in the small of the back, sought out old aches and weak joints, and sportively punched the tenants of the Swiss Cottage under the ribs. He inveigled little children to play with him, but his plays generally ended i^ 216 NEIGHBOEHOODS I HAVE MOVED rEOM. scarlet fever, diphtheria, whooping cough, and mea- sles. He sometimes followed strong men about until they sickened suddenly and took to their beds. But he kept the green-plants in good order, and was very fond of verdure, bestowing it even upon lath and plaster and soulless stone. He was generally invisible, as I have said ; but some time after I ,had moved, I saw him one morning from the hUl, stretch- ing his grey wings over the valley, like some fabu- lous vampire, who had spent the night sucking the wholesome juices of the sleepers below, and was sluggish from the effects of his repast It was then that I recognized him as Malaria, and knew his abode to be the dread Valley of the shadow of Mi- asma — miscalled the Happy Valley ! On week days there was a pleasant melody of boil- er-making from the foundries, and the gas works in the vicinity sometimes lent a mild perfame to the breeze. Our street was usually quiet, however — a foot-ball being sufficient to draw the inhabitants to their front vnndows, and to oblige an incautious trespasser to run the gauntlet of batteries of blue and black eyes on either side of the way. A carriage passing through it communicated a singular thrill to the floors, and caused the china on the dining-table to rattle. Although we were comparatively free from the prevailing winds, wandering gusts sometimes got bewildered and strayed unconsciously into our street, and finding an unencumbered field, incontinently set up a shriek of joy and went gleefully to work on the clothes-lines and chimney-pots, and had a good NETQHBOKHOODS I HAVE MOTED FEOM. 217 time generally uBtil they were quite exhausted. I liave a very vivid picture in my memory of an organ- grinder who was at one time blown into tlie end. of ouj street, and actually blown through it in spite of several ineffectual efforts to come to a stand before the different dwellings, but who was finally whirled out of the other -extremity, still playing and vainly endeavoring to pursue his unhallowed calling. But these were noteworthy exceptions to the.calm and even tenor of our life. There was contiguity but not much sociability in our. neighborhood. From my bed-room window I could plainly distinguish the peculiar kind of victuals spread on my neighbor's dining table ; while, on the other hand, he obtained an equally uninterrupted view of the mysteries of my toilette. Still that "low vice, curiosity," was regulated by certain laws, and a kind of rude chivalry ^invested our observa- tions. A pretty girl, whpse bed-room window was the cynosure of neighboring eyes, was once brought under the focus of an opera glass in the hands of one of our ingenious youth; but this act met such prompt and universal condemnation as an unmanly advantage, from the lips of married men and bache- lors who didn't own opera glasses, that it was never repeated. "With this brief sketch I cqnclude my record of the neighborhoods I have moved from. I have moved from many others since then, but' they have generally presented features not dissimilar to the three I have endeavored to describe in these pages. 10 218 NEIGHBORHOODS I HATE MOVED FROM. I offer them as types containing the salient pecu- larities of all. Let no inconsiderate reader rashly move on account of them. My experience has not been cheaply bought From the nettle Change I have tried to pluck the flower Security. Draymen have grown rich at my expense. House-agents have known me and were glad, and landlords have risen up to meet me from afar. The force of habit impels me stQl to consult all the bills I see in the streets, nor can the war telegrams divert my first attention from the advertising columns of the daily papers. I repeat, let no man think I have disclosed the weak- nesses of the neighborhood, nor rashly Open that closet which contains the secret skeleton of his dwell- ing. My carpets have been altei-ed to fit all sized odd shaped apartments from parallelopiped to hexa- gons. Much of my furniture has been distributed among my former dwellings. These limbs have stretched upon uncarpeted floors, or have been let down suddenly from imperfectly-established bed- steads. I have dined in the parlor and slept in the back kitchen. Yet the. result of these sacrifices and trials may be briefly summed up in the statement that I am now on the eve of removal from my Present Neighborhood. MY SUBURBAN BESIDEICE. I LIVE in, tlie suburbs. My residence, to quote the pleasing fiction of tbe advertisement, " is witliiQ fifteen minutes' walk of tbe City Hall." Wby the City Hall should be considered as an eligible ter- minus of anybody's walk, under any circumstances, I have not been able to determiue. Never Having walked fi-om my residence to tbat' place, I am una- ble to verify the assertion, tbough. I may state as a purely abstract a,nd separa,te proposition, tbat it takes me tbe better part of an hour to reach Montgomery street My selection of locality was" a compromise between my wife's desire to go into the country, and my own predilections for civic habitation. Like most com- promises, it ended in retaining the objectionable fea- tures of both propositions — ^I procured the inconven- iences of the country without losing the discomforts of the city, I increased my distance from the butcher and green-grocer, without approximating to herds and kitchen-gardens. But I anticipate. Fresh air was to be the principal thing sought for. 220 MT SUBUEBAN EESIDENCE. That there might be too much of this did not enter into my calculations. The first day I entered my residence, it blew. The second day was windy. The third, fresh, with a strong breeze stirring. On the fourth, it blew ; on the fifth, there was a gale, which has continued to the present writing. That the air is fresh, the above statement suffi- ciently establishes. That it is bracing, I argue from the fact that I find it impossible to open the shutters on the windward side of the house. That it is healthy, I am also convinced, believing that there is no other force in Nature that could so buffet and ill- use a peraon without serious injury to him. Let me offer an instance. The path to my door crosses a slight eminence. The unconscious visitor, a little exhausted by the ascent and the general effects of the gentle gales which he has faced in approaching my hospitable mansion, relaxes his efforts, smoothes his brow, and approaches with a fascinating smUe. Eash and too confident man ! The wind delivers a succession of rapid blows, and he is thrown back. He staggers up again — ^in the language of the P. R., " smiling and confident" The wind now makes for a vulnerable point, and gets his hat in chancery. All ceremony is now thrown away — ^the luckless wretch seizes his hat with both hands, and charges niadly at the front door. Inch by inch, the wind contests the ground,; another struggle, and he stands upon the verandah. On such occasions I make it a point to open the door myself, with a calmness and seren- ity that shall offer a marked contrast to his feverish, MT SUBXmBAN EESIDENOE. 221 and excited air — ^ttat shall throw suspicion of inebri- ety upon him. If he be inclined to timidity and bashfulness, during the best of the evening he is all too-conscious of the disarrangement of his hair and crayat If he is less sensitive, the result is often more distressing. A valued elderly friend once called upon me after undergoing a two-fold struggle with the wind and a large Newfoundland dog, (which I keep for reasons hereinafter stated,) and not only his hat, but his wig, had suffered. He spent the evening with me, totally unconscious of the fact that his hair presented the singular spectacle of having been parted diagonally from the right temj^e to the left ear. When ladies called, my wife preferred to receive them. They were generally hysterical, and often in tears. I remfember, one Sunday, to have been startled by what appeared to be the balloon from Hayes Valley drifting rapidly past my conser- vatory, closely followed by the N"ewfoundland dog. I rushed to the front door, but was anticipated by my wifa A strange lady appeared at lunch, but the phenomenon remained otherwise unaccounted for. Egress from my residence is much more easy. My guests seldom " stand upon the order of their going, but go at once ;" the Jfewfoundland dog playfully har- rassing their rear. I was standing one day, with my. hand on the open hall door, in serious conversation with the minister of the parish, when the back door was cautiously opened. The watchful breeze seized the opportunity, and charged through the defenceless passage. The front door closed violently in the mid- 222 MT SUBUEBAN EESIDENCE. die of a sentence, precipitating tlie reverend gentler man into tlie garden. The Newfoundland dog, with that sagacity for which his race is so distinguished, at. once concluded that a personal collision had taken place between myself and visitor, and flew to my de- fence. The reverend gentleman never called again. The Newfoundland dog above alluded to was part of a system of protection which my suburban home once required. Robberies were frequent in the neighborhood, and my only fowl fell a victim to the spoiler's art One night I awoke, and found a man in my room. With singular delicacy and respect for the feelings of others, he had been careful not to awaken any of the sleepers, and retired upon my ris- ing, without waiting for any suggestion. Touched by his delicacy, I forebore giving the alarm until after he had made good his retteat I then wanted to go after a policeman, but my wife remonstrated, as this would leave the house ei^posed. Remember- ing the gentlemanly conduct of. the burglar, I sug- gested the plan of following him and requesting him to give the alarm as he went in town. But this pro- position was received with equal disfavor. The next day I procured a dog and a revolver. The for- mer went off — ^but the latter wouTdn't. I then, got a new dog and chained him, and a duelling pistol, with a hair-trigger. The result was so far satisfactory that neither could be approached with safety, and for some time I left them out, indifferently, during the night But the chain one day gave way,, and the dog, evidently having no other attachment to the JIT SUBtTBBAUr EESIDENOE 223 touse, took tlie opportmiity to leave. His place was soon filled by the Newfoundland, wliose fidelity and sagacity I liave just recorded. Space is one of tlie desirable features of my sub- urban residence. I do not know the number of acres the grounds contain except from the inordinate quantity of hose required for irrigating. I perform daily, like some gentle shepherd, upon a quarter-inch pipe without any visible result, and have had serious thoughts of contracting with some disbanded fire company for their hose and equipments. It is quite a walk to the wood-house. Every day some new feature of the grounds is discovered. My youngest boy was one day missing for several hours. His head — ^a peculiarly venerable and striking object- was at last discovered just above the grass, at some distance firom the house. On examination he was found_ comfortably seated in a disused drain, in com- pany with a silver gpoon and a dead rat On being removed firom this locality he howled dismally and refiised to be- comforted. The view fi-om my suburban residence is fine. Lone Mountain, with its white obelisks, is a sugges- tive if not cheering termination of the vista in one direction, while the old receiving vault of Yerba Buena Cemetery limits the view in another. Most of the fiinerals which take place pass my house. My children, with the charming imitativeness that be- longs to youth, have caught the spirit of these pass- ing corteges, and reproduce in the back yard, with creditable skill, the salient features of the lugubrious 224 MY SUBUEBAN BESIDENCE. procession.' A doll, from whose features all traces of vitality and expression have been removed, repre- sents the deceased. Yet tmfortunately I have been obliged to promise them more active participation in this ceremony at some fiiture time, and I fear that they look anxiously forward with the glowing impatience of youth to the spegedy removal of some of my circle of friends. I am told that the eldest, with the unsophisticated frankness that belongs to his age, made a personal request to that effect to one of my acquaintances. One singular result of the frequency of these funerals is the development of a critical and fastidious taste in such matters on the part of myself and family. If I may so express my- self, without irreverence, we seldom turn out for any- thing less than six carriages. Any number over this is usually breathlessly announced by Bridget as, " Here's another, mum — and a good long one." With these slight drawbacks my suburban resi- dence is charming. To the serious poet, and wri- ter of elegiac verses, the aspect of Nature, viewed from my veranda, is suggestive. I myself have experienced moments when the " sad mechanic exer- cise" of verse would have been of infinite relief The following stanzas, by a young friend who has been stopping with me for the benefit of his health, ad- dressed to a duck that frequented a small pond in the vicinity of my mansion, may be worthy of peru- sal, as showing the debilitated condition of his system. I think I have met the idea conveyed in the first verse in some of Hood's prose, but as my friend assm-es MT SUBURBAN EESIDENCE. 225 me that Hood was too conscientious to appropriate anything, I conclude I am mistaken : LINES TO A VATEK FOWL. {Inira Muros.) FoTra,, 4hat sing'st in yonder pool, Where the summer winds blow cool, Are there hydropathic cures For the ills that man endures ? Know'st thou Priessnitz ? What? alack Hast no other word but " Quack f" n. Cleopatra's barge might pale To the splendors of thy taU, Or the stately carayal Of some " high-pooped admiral. " , Never yet left such a wake E'en the navigator Drake I m. Jhisc thou art, and leader, too. Heeding not what's "falling due," Knowing not of debt or dun — Thou dost heed no bill but one ; And, though scarce conceivable, That's a bill Eeceivable, Made — that thou thy stars might'st thank- Payable at the next bank. 0?{ A yULGAR LITTLE BOY. The subject of tliis article is at present leaning against a tree directly opposite to my window. He wears his cap with the wrong side before, apparently for no other object than that which seems the most obvious — of showing more than the average quantity of veiy dirty face. His clothes, which are worn with a certain buttonless ease and freedom, display, in the differ- ent quality of theii- frait-stains, a pleasing indication of the progress of the seasons. The nose of this vulgar little boy turns up at the end. I have no- ticed this in several other vulgar little boys, although it is by no means improbable that youthfal vulgar- ity may be present without this facial peculiarity. Indeed, I am inclined to the belief that it is rather the result of early inquisitiveness — of furtive pres- sures against window panes, and of looking over fences, or of the habit of biting lai-ge apples hastily — ^than an indication of scorn or juvenile superciliousness. The vulgar little boy is more remarkablfe for his ob- trusive familiarity. It is my experience of his pre- disposition to this quality which has induced me to write this article. OK A VDLGAE LTTTLE BOY. 227 My acquaintance witli Him began in a moment of weakness. I have an unforttmate predilection to cul- tivate originality in people, even when accompanied by objectionable character. But, as I lack, the firm- ness and skillfulness which usually accompanies this taste in others, and enables them to drop acquaint- ances when troublesome, I have surrounded myselT with divers unprofitable friends, among whom I count the vulgar little boy. The manner in which he first attracted my attention was purely accidental. He was playing in the street, and the driver of a passing vehicle cut at him, sportively, with his whip. The vulgar little boy rose to his feet and hurled after his tormentor a single sentence of invective. I re- frain fi:om repeating it, for I feel that I coiild not do justice to it here. If I remember rightly, it convey ed, in a very few words, a reflection on the legitimacy of the driver's birth ; it hinted a suspicion of his fath- er's integrity, and impugned the fairfame of his moth- er ; it suggested incompetency in his present position, personal uncleanliness, and evinced a skeptical doubt of his fature salvation. A^ his youthful lips closed over the last syllable, the eyes of the vulgar little boy met mine. Something in my look emboldened him. to wink. I did not repel the action nor the complicity it implied. From that moment I fell into the power of the vulgar little boy, and he has never left me since. He haunts me in the streets and by-ways. He accosts me, when in the company of friends, with re- pulsive fireedom. He lingers about the gate of my 228 ON A VULGAB LITTLE BOY. dwelling to waylay me as I issue fortli to business. Distance he overcomes by main strength of lungsj and he hails me from the next street. He met me at the theatre the other evening, and demanded my eheck with the air of a young footpad. I foolishly gave it to him, but re-entering some time after, and comfortably seating myself in the parquet, I was electrified by hearing my name called from the gal- lery with the addition of a playftd adjectiva It was the vulgar. little boy. During the performance he projected spirally-twisted playbills in my direction, and indulged in a running commentary on the super- nimieraries as they entered. To-day has evidently been a duU one with him. I observe he whistles the popular airs of the period with less shrillness and intensity. Providence, how- ever, looks not unkindly on him, and delivers into his hands as it were two nice little boys who have at this moment innocently strayed into our street They are pink and white children, and are dressed alike, and exhibit a certain air of neatness and re- finment which is alone f uf&cient to awaken the an- tagonism of the vulgar little boy. A sigh of satis- faction breaks from his breast. What does he do ? Any other boy would content himself with simply knocking the hats off their respective heads, and so vent his superfluous vitality in a single act, besides precipitating the flight of the enemy. But there are aesthetic considerations not to be overlooked ; insult is to be added to the injury inflicted, and in the struggles of the victim some justification is to be OH A VULGAE LITTLE BOY. 229 sought for extreme measures. The two nice little boys perceive their danger and draw closer to each other. The vnlgar little boy begins by irony. He affects to be oveij)owered by the magnificenQe of their Costume. He addresses me, (across the street and through the closed window,) and requests infor- mation if there haply be a circus in the vicinity. He makes affectionate inquiries after the health of their parents. He expresses a fear of maternal anxiety in in regard to their welfare. He offers to conduct them home. One nice httle boy feebly retorts ; but alas ! his correct pronunciation, his grammatical ex- actitude and his moderate epithets only provoke a scream of derision feom the vulgar little boyT' who now rapidly changes his tactics. Staggering under the weight of his vituperation, they fall easy victims to his dexter mawley. A waU of lamentation goes up from our street But as the subject bf this article seems to require a more vigorous handling than I had purposed to give it, I find it necessary to aban- don my present dignified position, seize my hat, open the front door, and try a stronger method. WAITMG rOR THE SHIP. A FOET POINT IDTL. ABbuT an hour's ride fi-om the Plaza there is a high bluff with the ocean breaking uninterruptedly along its rocky beach There are several cottages on the sands, which look as if they had recently been, cast up by a heavy sea. , The cultivated patch be- hind each tenement is fenced in by bamboos, broken spars and drift-wood. With its few green cabbages and turnip-tops, each garden looks something like an aquarium with the water turned off. In fact you would not be surprised to meet a merman digging among the potatoes, or a mermaid milking a sea cow hard by. . Near this place formerly arose a great semaphorio telegraph with its gaunt arms tossed up against the horizon. It has been replaced by an observatory, connected with an electric nerve to the heart of the great commercial city. From this point the incom- ing ships are signaled, and again checked off at the ■WAITING FOE THE SHIP. 231 City Exchange, And while we are here looking for the expected steamer, let me tell you a story. Not long ago, a simple, hard-working mechanic, had amassed sufficient by diligent labor in the mines to send home for his wife and two childreix He ar- rived in San Francisco a month before, the time the ship was due, for he was a western man and had made the overland journey and knew little of ships or seas or gales. He procured work in the city,, but as the time approached he wo.uld go to the shipping office regularly every day. The month passed, but the ship came not ; then a month and a %eek, two weeks, three weeks, 'two months, and then a year. The rough, patient face; with soft lines overlying its hard features, which had become a daily appari- tion at the shipping agent's, then disappeared.' It turned up one afternoon at the observatory as the setting sun relieved the operator from his duties. There was something s6 childlike and simple in the few questions asked by this stranger, touching his business, that the operator spent some time to ex- plain. When the mystery of signals and telegraphs was unfolded, the stranger had_one more question to ask. "How long might a vessel be absent before they would give up expecting her?" The operator couldn't tell ;• it would depend on circumstances. "Would it be a year? Yes, it might be a year, and vessels had been given up for lost after two years and had come home. The stranger put his rough hand on the operator's, and thanked him for his " troubil " and went away. 232 WAITING FOR THE SHIP. Still the sliip came not. Stately clippers swept into the Gate, and merchantmen went by with colors flying, and the welcoming gun of the steamer often reverberated among the hills. Then the patient face, with the old resigned expression, but a brighter, wistful look iQ the eye, was regularly met on the crowded decks of the steamer as she disembarked her living freight He may have had a dimly-defined hope that the missing ones might yet come this way, as only another road over that strange unknown ex- panse. But he talked with ship captains and sailors, and even this last hope seemed to fail When the careworn face and bright eyes were presented again at the observatory, the operator, busily engaged, could not spare time to answer foolish interrogatories, so he went away. But as night fell, he was seen ^t- ting on the rocks with his face turned seaward, and was seated there all that night. "When he became hopelessly insane, for that was • what the physiciatis said made his eyes so bright, and wistfiil, he was cared for by a fellow-craftsman who had known his troubles. He was allowed to indulge his fancy of going out to watch for the ship, in which she " and the children " were, at night when no one else was watching. He had made up his mind that the ship would come in at night This, and the idea that he would relieve the operator, who would be tired with watching all day, seemed to please him. So he went out and relieved the opera- tor evCTy night! For two years the ships came and went He was ■WAITING FOE THE SHIP, 283 there to see tlie outward-boTind clipper, and greet lier on her return. He was known only by a few who frequented the place. "When he was missed at last from his accustomed spot, a day or two elapsed be- fore any alarm was felt. One Sunday, a party of pleasure-seekers clambering, over the rocks were at- tracted by the barking of a dog that had run on be- fore them. When they came up they found a plain- ly dressed man lying there dead. . There were a few papers in his pocket — chiefly slips cut from different journals of old marine memoranda — and his face was turned towards the distant sea. lEGEMDS AID TALES. THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. The cautious reader will detect a lack of authen- ticity in the following pages. I am not a cautious reader myself, yet I confess with some concern to the absence of much documentary evidence in support of the singular incident I am about to relate. Dis- jointed memoranda, the proceedings of ayuniamientos and early departmental ywntas, with other records of a primitive and superstitious people, have been my inadequate authorities. It is but just to state, how- ever, that, though this particular story lacks corrob- oration, in ransacking the Spanish archives of Upper California I have met with many more surprising and incredible stories, attested and supported to a degree that would have placed this legend beyond a cavil or doubt I have, also, never lost faith in the legend myself, and in so doing have profited much from the examples of divers grant-claimants, who have' often, jostled me in their more practical researches, and who have my sincere sympathy at the skepticism of a modem hard-headed and practical world. For many years after Father Junipero Serro firat 238 THE LEGEND OP MONTE DIABLO. rang his bell in the wilderness of Upper California, the spirit which animated that adventurous priest did not wane. The conversion of the heathen went on rapidly in the establishment of Missions throughout the land. So sedulously did the good Fathers set 'about their work, that around their isolated chapels there presently arose adohe huts, whose mud -plastered and savage tenants partook regularly of the provis- ions, and ocoasionally of the Sacrament, Of their pious hosts. Nay, so great was their progress, that one zealous Padre is reported to have administered the Lord's Supper one Sabbath morning to "over three hundred heathen Salvages.'' It was not to be wondered that the Enemy of Souls, being greatly incensed thereat, and alarmed at his decreasing pop- ularity, should have grievously tempted and embar- rassed these Holy Fathers, as we shall presently see. Yet they were happy, peaceful days for California. The vagrant keels of prying Commerce had not as yet, ruffled the lordly gravity of her bays. No torn and ragged gulch betrayed the. suspicion of golden treasure. The wild oats drooped idly in the morn- ing heat, or wrestled with the afternoon breezes. Deer and antelope dotted the plain. The water- courses brawled in their familiar channels, nor dreamed of ever shifting their regular tide. The wonders of the Yo-Semite and Calaveras were as yet Tinrecorded. The Holy Fathers noted little of the landscape beyond the barbaric prodigality ^ with which the quick soil repaid the sowing. A new con- version, the advent of a Saint's day, or the baptism THE LEGEND OF MONTE DIABLO. 239 of an Indian baby, was at once the chronicle and marvel of their day. At this blissful epoch, there lived, at th3 Mission of San Pablo, Father Jose Antonio Haro, a worthy brother of the Society of Jesus. He was of tall and cadaverous aspect A somewhat romantic history had given a poetic interest to his lugubrious visage. While a youth, pursuing his studies at famous Sala- manca, he had become enamored of the charms of Dona Carmen de Torrencevara, as that lady passed to her matutinal devotions. Untoward circum- stances, hastened, perhaps, by a wealthier suitor, brought this amour to a disastrous issue ; and Father Jose entered a monastery, taking upon himself the vows of celibacy. It was here that his natural fervor and poetic enthusiasm conceived expression as a missionary. A longing to convert the uncivilized heathen succeeded his frivolous earthly passion, and a desire to explore and develop unknown fastnesses continually possessed him. In his flashing eye and sombre exterior was detected a singular comming- ling of the discreet Las Casas and the impetuous Balboa. _ Fired by this pious zeal. Father Jos4 went forward in the van of Christian pioneers. On reaching Mexico, he obtained authority to establish the Mis- sion of San Pablo. Like the good Jimipero, accom- panied only by an acolyth and muleteer, he unsaddled his mules in a dusky canon, and rang his bell in the wilderness. The savages — a peaceful, inoffensive, and inferior race — ^presently flocked around him. 240 THE LEGEND OP MONTE DIABLO. The nearest military post was far away, wliicli con- tributed mucti to the security of these pious pilgrims, who found their open trustfalness and amiability better fitted to repress hostility than the presence of an armed, suspicious and brawling soldiery. So the good Father Jos^ said matins and prime, mass and vespers, in the heart of Sin and Heathenism, taking no heed to himself, but looking only to the welfare of the Holy Church. Conversions soon followed, and, on the 7th of July, 1760, the first Indian baby was baptized -^an event which, as Father Jose piously records, " exceeds the richnesse of gold or precious jewels or the chancing upon the Ophir of Solomon." I quote this incident as best suited to show the in- genuous blending of poetry and piety which distin- guished Father Jose's record. The Mission of San Pablo progressed and pros- pered until the pious founder thereof, like the infidel Alexander, might have wept that there were no more heathen worlds to conquer. But his ardent and en- thusiastic spirit could not long brook an idleness that seemed begotten of sin; and one pleasant August morning, in the year of grace 1770, Father Jose issued from the outer court of the Mission biiilding, equipped to explore the field for new missionary la- bors. Nothing could exceed the quiet gravity andun- pretentiousness of the little cavalcade. First rode a stout muleteer, leading a pack-mule laden with the provisions of the party, together with a few cheap crucifixes and hawks' bells.. After him came the do- THE LEGEND OF MOHTE DEL DIABLO. 241 vout Padre Jose, bearing his breviary and cross, with. a black serapa thrown around his shoulders ; while oh either side trotted a dusky convert, anxious to show a proper sense of their regeneration by acting as guides into the wilds of their heathen brethren- Their new condition was agreeably shown by the ab- sence of the usual mud-plaster, which in their uncon- verted state they assumed to keep away Vermin and cold. The morning was bright and propitious. Be- fore their departure, mass had been said in the chapel, and the protection of St Ignatius invoked against all contingent evils, but especially against bears, which, like the fiery dragons of old, seemed to cherish unconquerable hostility to the Holy Church. As they wound throu^ the canon, charming birds disported upon boughs and sprays, and sober quails piped from the alders; the willowy water-courses gave a musical utterance, and the long grass whis- pered on the hillside. On entering the deeper defiles, above them towered dark green masses of pine, and occasionally the madrono shook its bright scarlet ber- ries. As they toiled up many a steep ascent, Father Jose sometimes picked up fragments of scoria, which spake to his imagination of direfal volcanoes and im- pending earthquakes. To the less scientific mind, of the muleteer Ignacio they had even a more terrifying significance; and he once or twice snuffed the air* suspiciously, and declared that it smelt of sulphur. So the first day of their journey wore away, and at night they encamped without having met a siugle heathen face. 11 242 THE LEGEND OE MONTE DEL DIABLO. It was on this night that the Enemy of Souls ap- peared to Ignacio in an appalling form. He had re- tired to a secluded part of the camp, and had sunk upon his knees in prayerful meditation, when he looked up and perceived the Arch-Fiend in the like- ness of a monstrous bear. The Evil One was seated on his hind legs immediately before him, with his fore paws joined together just below his black muzzle. Wisely conceiving this remarkable attitude to be in mockery and derision of his devotions, the worthy muleteer was transported with fury. Seizing an ar- quebuse, he instantly closed his eyes and fired. When he had recovered firom the effects of the terrific dis- charge, the apparition had disappeared. Father Jose, awakened by the report, reached the spot only in time to chide the muleteer for wasting powder and ball in a contest with one whom a single ave would have been suf&cient to utterly discomfit What further reliance he placed on Ignacio's story is not known ; but, in commemoration of a worthy Californian custom, the place was called La Canada de la Tentacion del Pio Muletero, or "The Glen of the Temptation of the Pious Muleteer," a name which it retains to this day. The next morning, the party, issuing from a nar- row gorge, came upon a long valley, sear and burnt with the shadeless heat Its lower extremity was lost in a fading line of low hills, which, gathering might and volume toward the upper end of the val- ley, upheaved a stupendous bulwark against the breezy Nortk The peak of this awful spur was just touched by a fleecy cloud that shifted to and fro like THE UEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. 243 a banneret. Father Jos6 gazed with mingled awe and admiration. By a singular coincidence, the muleteer Ignacio uttered the simple ejaculation ''Diablo I" As they penetrated the valley, they soon began to miss the agreeable life and companionable echoes of the canon they had quitted. Huge fissures in th e parch- ed soil seemed to gape as with thirsty mouths. A few squirrels darted from the earth, and disappeared as mysteriously before the jingling mules. A gray wolf trotted leisurely along just ahead. But which- ever way Father Jose turned, the mountain always asserted itself and arrested his wandering eye. Out of the dry and arid valley, it seemed to spring into cooler and bracing life. Deep cavernous shadows dwelt along its base ; rocky fastnesses appeared mid- way of its elevation ; and on either side huge black hills diverged like massy roots from a central trunk. His lively fancy pictured these hills peopled with a majestic and intelligent race of savages ; and looking into futurity, he already saw a monstrous cross crowning the dome-like summit. Far different were the sensations of the muleteer, who saw in those aw-' fal solitudes only fiery dragons, colossal bears, and break-neck trails. The covnerts, Concepcion and Incarnacion, trotting modestly beside the Padre, re- cognized, perhaps, some manifestation of their former weird mythology. At nightfall they reached the base of the moun- tain. Here Father Jose unpacked his mules, said vespers, and, formally ringing his bell, called upon 244 THE MGEND 01" MONTE DEL DIABLO. the, Grentiles within hearing to come and accept the Holy Faith. The echoes of the black frowning hills around him caught up the pious invitation, and re- peated it at intervals ; but no Grentiles appeared that night Nor were the devotions of the muleteer again disturbed, although he afterward asserted, that, when the Father's exhortation was ended, a mock- ing peal of laughter came from the mountain. Noth- ing daunted by these intimations of the near hostility of the Evil One, Father Jos6 declared his intention to ascend the mountain at early dawn ; and before the sun rose the next morning he was leading the way. The ascent was in many places difficult and dan- gerous; Huge fragments of rock often lay across the trail, and after a few hoars' climbing they were forced to leav^ their mules in a little gully, and continue the ascent afoot Unaccustomed to such exertion. Father Jose often stopped to wipe the perspiration from his thin cheeks. As the day wore on, a strange silence oppressed them. Except tbe occasional pattering of a squirrel, or a rustling in the chimisal bushes, there were no signs of life. The half-human print of a bear's foot sometimes appeared before them, at which Ignacio always crt)ssed himself piously. The eye was sometimes cheated by a dripping from the rocks, which on closer inspection proved to be a resinous oily liquid with an abominable sulphurous smell. When they were within a short distance of the sum- mit, the discreet Ignacio, selecting a sheltered nook for the camp, slipped aside and busied himself in preparations fbr the evening, leaving the Holy Father THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. 245 to continue the ascent alone. N"ever was there a more thoughtless act of prudence, never a more im- prudent piece of caution. Without noticing the de- sertion, buried in pious reflection, Father Jose pushed mechanically on, and, reaching the sununit, cast him- self down and gazed upon the prospect. Below him lay a succession of valleys opening into each other lake gentle lakes, until they were lost to the southward. Westerly the distant range hid the bosky Canada which sheltered the mission of San Pablo. In the farther distance the Pacific Ocean stretched away, bearing a cloud of fog upon its bosom, which crept through the entrance of the bay, and rolled thickly between him and the North- eastward; the same fog hid the base of mountain and the view beyond. Still, from time to time the fleecy veil parted, and timidly disclosed charming glimpses of mighty rivers, mountain-defiles, and rolhng plains, sear with ripened oats, and bathed in the glow of the setting sun. As Father Jose gazed, he was penetrated with a pious longing. . Already his imagination, filled with enthusiastic conceptions, beheld all that vast expanse gathered under the mild sway of the Holy Faith, and peopled with zealous converts. Each little knoll in fancy becomes crowned with a chapel; from each dark canmi gleamed the white walls of a mission building. Growing bolder in his enthusiasm, and looking farther into futurity, he beheld a new Spain rising on these savage shores. He already saw the spires of stately cathedrals, the domes of palaces, vineyards, gardens, and grovea 246 THE LEGEND OP MOHTE DEL DIABLO.' Convents, half liid among tlie hills, peeping from plantations 'of branching limes ; and long processions of chanting nuns wound through the defiles. So completely was the good Father's conception of the future confounded with the past, that even in their choral strain the well-remembered accents of Carmen struck his ear. He was busied in these fanciful im- aginings, when suddenly over that extended prospect the faint, distant tolling of a bell rang sadly out and died. It was the Angelus. Father Jose ligtened with superstitious exaltation. The mission of San Pablo was far away, and the sound must have been some miraculous omen. But never before, to his enthusi- astic sense, did the sweet seriousness of this angelic symbol come with such strange significance. With ' the last faint peal, his glowing fancy seemed to cool ; the fog closed in below him, and the good Father re- membered he had not had his supper. He had risen and was wrapping his serapa around him, when he perceived for the first time that he was not alone. Nearly opposite, and where should have been the faithless Ignacio, a grave and decorous figure was seated. His appearance was that of an elderly hidal- go, dressed in mourning, with moustaches of iron- gray carefully waxed and twisted around a pair of lantem-jawa The monstrous hat and prodigious feather, the enormous ruff and exaggerated trunk- hose, contrasted with a frame shriveled and wizened, aU belonged to a century previous. Yet Father Jose was not astonished. His adventurous life and poetic imagination, continually on the look-out for the mar- THE LEGEND OE MONTE DEL DIABLO. 247 velous, gave Kim a certain advantage over the practi- cal and material minded- He instantly detected the diabolical quality of his visitant, and was prepared. "With equal coolness and courtesy he met the cava- lier's obeisance. " I ask your pardon, Sir Priest," said the stranger, "for disturbing your meditations. Pleasant they must have been, and right fanciful, I iniagine, when occasioned by so fair a prospect." "Worldly, perhaps, Sir Devil, — for such I take you to be," said the Holy Father, as the stranger bowed his black plumes to the ground; "worldly, perhaps ; for it hath pleased Heaven to retain even in our regenerated state much that pertaineth to the flesh, yet still, I trust, not without some speculation for the welfare of the Holy ChurcL In dwelling upon yon fair expanse, mine eyes have been gracious- ly opened with prophetic inspiration, and the promise of the heathen as ah inheritance hath marvelously re^ curred to me. For there can be none lack such dili- gence in the True Faith, but may see that even the con- version of these pititul salvages hath a meaning. As the blessed St Ignatius discreetly observes," contin- ued Father Jose, clearing his throat and slightly ele- vating his voice, " ' the heathen is given to the war- riors of Christ, even as the pearls of rare discovery which gladden the hearts of shipmen.' Nay, I mighj; say'' But here the stranger, who had been wrinkling his brows and twisting his moustaches with well-bred patience, took advantage of an oratorical pause to 248 -THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DLVBLO. " It grieves me, Sir Priest, to interrupt the ciirrent of your eloquence as discourteously as I have al- ready broken your meditations ; but'the day already waneth to night. I have a matter of serious im- port to make with you, could I entreat your cautious consideration a few moments." Father Jos6 hesitated. The temptation was great, and the prospect of acquiring some knowledge of the Great Enemy's plans not the least trifling object. And if the truth must be told, there was a certain decorum about the stranger that interested the Padre. Though well aware of the Protean shapes the Arch- Fiend could assume, and though free from the weak- nesses of the flesh, Father Jose was not above the temptations of the spirit. Had the Devil appeared, as in the case of the pious St Anthony, in the like- ness of a comely damsel, the good Father, with his certain experience of the deceitful sex, would have whiskeH her away in the saying of a paternoster. But there was, added to the security of age, a grave sadness about tne stranger, — a thoughtful conscious- ness as of being at a great moral disadvantage, — which at once decided him on a magnanimous course of conduct The stranger then proceeded to inform him, .that he had been dihgently observing the Holy Father's triumphs in the valley. That, fer from being great- ly exercised thereat, he had been only grieved to see so enthusiastic and chivalrous an antagonist wasting his zeal in a hopeless work Forj he observed, the issue of the great battle of Good and Evil had been THE lEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. 249 otherwise settled, aa lie would presently show lira. " It wants but a few moments of night," lie contin- ued, ." and over tMs interval of twiHght, as you know, I have been given complete control. Look to the West" As the Padre turned, the stranger took his enor- mous hat from his head, and waved it three times before him. At each sweep of the pirodigious feath- er, the fog grew thinner, until it melted impalpably away, and the former landscape returned, yet wann with the glowing sun. As Father Joso gazed, a strain of martial music arose from the valley, and issued from a deep canon, the good Father beheld a long cavalcade of gallant cavaliers, habited like his companion. As they swept dOwn the plain, they ■were joined by like processions, that slowly defiled from every ravine and canon of the mysterious mountain. From time to time the peal of a trumpet swelled fitfully upon the breeze ; the cross of Sant- iago glittered, and the royal banners of Castile and Aragon wayed over the moving column. So they moved on solemnly toward the sea, where, in the distance. Father Jose saw stately caravels, bearing the same familiar banner, awaiting them. The good Padre gazed with conflicting emotions, and the seri- ous voice of the stranger broke the silence. " Thou hast beheld. Sir Priest, the fading foot- prints of adventurous Castile. Thou hast seen the declining glory of old Spain, — dechning as yonder brilliant sun. The spectre she hath wrested from the heathen is f?ist dropping from her decrepit and flesh- 250 THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. less grasp. The cliildren she hath fostered shall know her no longer. The soil she hath acquired shall be lost to her as irrevocably as she herself hath thrust the Moor from her own Granada." The stranger paused, and his voice seemed broken by emotion ; at the same time, Father Jose, whose sympathi^ng heart yearned toward the departing banners, cried in poignant accents — " Farewell ye gallant cavaliers and Christian sol- diers f Farewell, thou, Nunes de Balboa! thou, Alonzo de Ojeda ! and thou, most venerable Las Oasas I Farewell, and may Heaven prosper stiU the seed ye left behind !" Then turning to the stranger, Father Jose beheld him gravely draw his pocket-handkerchief from the basket-hilt of his rapier, and apply it decorously to his eyes. "Pardon this weakness. Sir Priest," said the cava- lier, apologetically; "but these worthy gentlemen were ancient friends of mine, and have done me many a delicate service, — much more, perchance, than these poor sables may signify," he added, with a grim gesture toward the mourning suit he wore. Father Jose was too imuch preoccupied in reflec- tion to notice the equivocal nature of this tribute, and, after a few moments' silence, said, as if continuing his thought — " But the seed they have planted shall thrive and prosper on this fruitful soil ?" As if answering the interrogatory, the stranger turned to the opposite direction, and, again waving his hat, said, in the same serious tonp — THE LEGEND OF MONTE DaL DIABLO. 251 " Look to the East !" The Father turned, and, as the fog broke away be- fore the waving plume, he saw that the' sun was rising. Issuing with its bright beams through the passes of the snowy mountains beyond, appeared a strange and motley crew. Instead of the dark and romantic visages of his last phantom train, the Father beheld with strange concern the blue eyes and flaxen hair of a Saxon race. In place of martial airs and musical utterance, there rose upon the ear a strange din of harsh gutturals and singular sibilation. Instead of the decorous tread and stately mien of the cavaliers of the former vision, they came pushing, bustling, panting, and swa^ering. And as they passed, the good Father noticed that giant trees were prostrated as with the breath of a tornado, and the bowels of the earth were torn and rent as with a convulsion. And Father Jose looked in vain for^holy cross or Christian symbol ; there was but one that seemed an ensign, and he crossed himself with holy horror as he perceived it bore the e&gf of a bear ! " Who are these swaggering Ishmaehte^ ?" he ask- ed, with something of asperity in his tone. The stranger was gravely silent " What do they here, with neither cross nor holy symbol ?" he again demanded. " Have you the courage to see. Sir Priest ?" respond- ed the straiiger, quietly. Father Jos6 felt his crucifix, as a lonely traveler might his rapier, and assented. " Step under the shadow of my plume," said the stranger. 252 THE LEGEND OE MONTE DEL DIABLO. Father Jose stepped beside him, and they instantly sank through the earth. When he opened his eyes, which had remained closed in prayerful meditation during his rapid de- scent, he found himself in a vast vault, bespangled over-head with luminous points like the starred fir- mament It was also lighted by a yellow glow that seemed to proceed from a mighty sea or lake that oc- cupied the centre of the chamber. Around this sub- terranean sea dusky figures flitted, bearing ladles filled with the yellow fluid, which they had replen- ished from its depths. From this lake diverging streams of the same mysterious flood penetrated like mighty rivers the cavernous distance. As they walked by the banks of this glittering Styx, Father Jose perceived how the liquid stream at certain places became solid. The ground was strewn with glittering flakes. One of these the Padre picked up and curiously examined. It was virgin gold. An expression of discomfiture overcast the good Father's face at thii discovery; but there was ti'ace neither of malice nor satisfaction in the stran- ger's air, which was still of serious and fateful con- templation. When Father Jose recovered his equan- imity, he said, bitterly — " This, then. Sir Devil, is your work ! This is your deceitful lure for the weak souls of sinfal na- tions ! So would you replace the Christian grace of holy Spain !" " This is what must be," returned the stranger, gloomily. " But listen, Sir Priest It lies with you THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO. 253 to avert tlie issue for a time. Leave me here in peace. Go back to Castile, and take with you your bells, your images, and your missions. Continue here, and you only precipitate results. Stay ! promise me you will do this, and you shall not lack that which will render your old age an ornament and a blessing ;" and the stranger motioned significantly to the lake. It was here, the legend discreetly relates, that the Devil showed — as he always shows sooner or later — ^his cloven hoof The worthy Padre, sorely per- plexed by his threefold vision, and, if the truth must be told, a little nettled at this wresting away of the glory of holy Spanish discovery, had shown some hesitation. But the unlucky bribe of the- Enemy of Souls touched his CastHian spirit. Starting back in deep disgust, he brandished his crucifix in the face of the unmasked Fiend, and, in a voice that made the dusky vault resound, cried — " Avaunt thee, ^athanas ! Diabolus, I defy thee ! What ! wouldst thou bribe me, — ^me, a brother of the Sacred Society oifthe Holy Jesus, Licentiate of Cordo- va and Inquisitor of Gruadalaxara ? Thinkest thou to buy me with thy sordid treasui'e ? Avaunt !" "What might have been the issue of this rupture, and how complete might have been th^ triumph of the Holy Father over the Arch-Fiend^ who was re- coiling aghast at these sacred titles and the flourishing symbol, we can never know, for at that moment the crucifix slipped through his fingers. Scarcely had it touched the ground before Deyil and Holy Father simultaneously cast themselves to 254 THE LEGEND OP MONTE DEL DIABLO. ward it. In the struggle they clinched, and the pious Jose, who was as much the superior of his an- tagonist in bodily as in spiritual strength, was about to treat the Great Adversary to a back somersault, when he suddenly felt the long nails of the stranger piercing his flesh. A new fear seized his heart, a numbing clullness crept through his body, and he struggled to free himself, but in vain, A strange roaring was in his ears ; the lake and cavern danced before his eyes and vanished ; and with aloud dry he sank senseless to the ground. When he recovered his consciousness he was aware of a gentle swaying motion of his body. He opelied his eyes, and saw it was high noon, and that he was being carried in a htter through the valley. He felt stiff, and, looking down, perceived that his arm was tightly bandaged to his side. He closed his eyes, and after a few words of thank- ful prayer, thought how miraculously he had been preserved, and made a vow of candlesbicks to the blessed Saint Jose. He then called in a faint voice, and presently the penitent Ignacio stood beside him. The joy the poor fellow felt at his patron's return- ing consciousness for some time choked his utter- ance. He could only ejaculate, " A miracle 1 Blessed Saint Jose, he hves !" and kiss the Padre's bandaged hand. Father Jose, more intent on his last night's experience, waited for his emotion to subside, and asked where he had been found. "On the mountain, your Eeverence, but a few varas from where he attacked you." THE IJ5GEND OF MONTE DEL DliBLO. 255 "How? — ^you saw him, tHen?" asked tlie Padre, in Tinfeigned astonisHment " Saw him, your Eevereuce ! Mother of God, I should think I did I And your Eeverence shall see him too, if he ever comes again within range of Ig- nacio's arquebuse." " "What mean you, Ignacio ?" said the Padre, sit- ting holt-upright in his litter. " Why, the bear, your Eeverenc%, — ^the bear, Holy Father, who attacked your worshipful person while you were meditating on the top of yonder moun- tain." " Ah I" said the Holy Father, lying down again. " Ohut, child ! I would be at peace." When he reached the Mission, he was tenderly cared for, and in a few weeks was enabled to resume those duties from which, as will be seen, not even the machinations of the Evil One could divert him. The news of his physical disaster spread over the coun- try ; and a letter to the Bishop of Guadalaxara con- tained a confidential and detailed account of the good Father's spiritual temptation. But in some way the story leaked out ; and" long after Jose was gathered to his fathers, his mysterious encounter formed the theme of thrilling and wEispered narrative. The mountain was generally shunned. It is true that Sefior Joaquin Pedrillo afterward located a grant near the base of the mountain; but as Senora Pe- drillo was known to be a termagant half-breed, the Sefior was not supposed to be over-fastidious. 256 THE LEGEND OE MONTE DEL DIABLO. Such is the Legend of Monte del Diablo. As I said before, it may seem to lack essential corrobora- tion. The discrepancy between the Father's narra- tive and the actual climax has given rise to some skepticism on the part of ingenious quibblers. All such I would simply refer to that part of the report of SeQor Julio Serro, Sub-Prefect of San Pablo, be- fore whom attest of the above was made. Touching this matter the worthy Prefect observes, — " That al- though the body of Father Jose doth show evidence of grievous conflict in the flesh, yet that is no proof that the enemy of Souls, who could assume the figure of a decorous, elderly caballero, could not at the same time transform himself into a bear for hia own vile purposes." THE ADVENTURE. OF PADRE YICENTIO. A LEGEND OP SAN FKANCISOO. One pleasant New Year's Eve, alDout forty years ago, Padre Vicentio was slowly picking Ms way across the sand-liills from tlie Mission Dolores. As lie climbed tlie crest of the ridge beside Mission Creek, bis broad, sbining face might bave been easily mistaken for the beneficent image of the rising moon, so bland was its smile and so indefinite its features. For the padre was a man of notable reputation and cbaracter; his ministration at the Mission of San Jos6 had been marked with cordiality and unction ; he was adored by the simple-minded savages, and bad succeeded in impressing his individuality so strongly upon them that the very children were said to have miraculously resembled him in feature. As tie holy man reached the loneliest portion of the road, be naturally put spurs to his mule as if to quicken that decorous pace which the obedient ani- mal had acquired through long experience of its 258 THE ADVENTUEE OP PADKE YICENTIO. master's habits. The locality had an unfavorable reputation. Sailors — deserters from whaleships — ■ had been seen lurking about the outskirts of the town, and low scrub oaks which everywhere beset the trail might have easily concealed some desperate runaway. Besides these material obstructions, the devil, whose hostility to the church was well known, was said to sometimes haunt the vicinity in the like- ness of a spectral whaler, who had met his death in a drunken bout, from a harpoon in the hands of a companion. The ghost of this unfortunate mariner was frequently observed sitting on the hill toward the dusk of evening, armed with his favorite weapon and a tub containing a coil of line, looking out for some belated traveler on whom to exercise his pro- fessional skill. It is related that the good father Jose Maria of the Mision Dolores had been twice at- tacked by this phantom sportsman; that once, on returning from "San Francisco, and panting with ex- ertion from climbing the hill, he was startled by a stentorian cry of "There she blows!" quickly fol- lowed by a hurtling harpoon, which buried itself in' the sand beside him; that on another occasion he narrowly escaped destruction, his serapa having been transfixed by the diabolical harpoon and dragged away in triumph. Popular opinion seems to have been divided as to the reason for the devil's particu- lar attention to Father Jose, some asserting that the extreme piety of the padre excited the EvU One's animosity, and others that his adipose tendency sim- ply rendered him, from a professional view-point, a profitable capture. THE ABYENTUEE OF PADRE TECENTIO. 259 Had Father Vicentio been inclined to scoff at this apparition as a heretical inno^tion, there was still the story of Ooncepcion, the Demon Vaqaero, whose terrible riata was fully as potent as the whaler's har- poon. Ooncepcion, when in the ilesh, had been a celebrated' herder of cattle and wUd horses, and was reported to have chased the devil in the shape of a fleet pinto colt all the way from San Luis Obispo to San Francisco, vowing not to give up the chase until he had overtaken the disguised Arch-Enemy. This the devil prevented by resuming his own shape, but kept the unfortunate vaquero to the fulfillment of his rash vow ; and Ooncepcion still scoured the coast on a phantom steed, beguiling the monotony of his eter- nal pursuit by lassoing travelers, dragging them at the heels of his unbroken mustang until they were eventually picked up, half-strangled, by the road-side. The padre listened attentively for the tramp of this terrible rider. But no footfall broke the. stillness of the night; even the hoofs of his own mule sank noiselessly in the shifting sand. Now and then a rabbit bounded lightly by him, or a quail ran into the brush. ''The melancholy call of plover from the adjoining marshes of Mission Creek came to him so faintly and fitfully that it seemed almost a recol- lection of the past rather than a reality of the pres- ent To add to his discomposure one of those heavy sea fogs peculiar to the locality began to drift across the hilLs and presently encompassed him. While en- deavoring to evade its cold embraces, Padre Vicentio 260 THE ADVENTUEE OS" PADEE TICENTIO. incautiously di'ove his heavy spurs into the flanks of his mule as that puj^led animal was hesitating on the brink of a steep declivity. Whether the poor beast was indignant at this novel outrage, or had been for some time reflecting on the evils of being priest-ridden, has not transpired ; enough that he suddenly threw up his heels, pitching the reverend man over his head, and, having accomplished thif feat, coolly dropped on his knees and tumbled after his rider. Over and over went the padre, closely followed by his faithless mule. Luckily the little hollow which received the pair was of sand that yielded to the superincumbent weight,, half burying them without further injury. For some moments the poor man lay motionless, vainly endeavoring to collect his scattered senses. A hand irre;verently laid upon his collar, and a rough shake, assisted to recall his con- sciousness. As the padre staggered to his feet he found himself confronted by a stranger. Seen dimly through the fog, and under circum- stances that to say the least were not prepossessing, the new comer had an inexpressibly mysterious and brigand-like aspect. A long boat-cloak concealed his figure, and a slouched hat hid his features, per- mitting only his eyes to glisten in the depths. With a deep groan the padre slipped from the stranger's grasp and subsided into the soft sand again. " Gad's life !" said the stranger, pettishly, " hast no more bones in thy fat carcass than a jelly-fish? Lend a hand, here I Yo, heave ho !" and he dragged THE ADTENTUBE OF PADEE TIOENTIO. 261 tlie padre into an upriglit position. " Now, tlaen, who and what art tlioia ?" The padre could not help thinldng that the ques- tion might have more properly been asked by him- self; but with an odd mixture of dignity and trepi- dation he began enumerating his different titles, which were by no means brief, and would have been alone sufficient to strike awe in the bosom of an or- dinary adversary. The stranger irreverently broke in upon his formal phrases, and assuring him that a priest was the very person he was looldng for, coolly replaced the old man's hat, which had tumbled off, and bade him accompany him at once on an errand of spiritual counsel to one who was even then lying in extremity. " To think," said the stranger, " that I should stumble upon the very man I was seeldng! Body of Bacchus ! but this is lucky ! Follow me quickly, for there is no time to lose." Like most easy natures the positive assertion of the stranger, and withal a certaia authoritative air of command, overcame what slight, objections the padre might have feebly nurtured during this remarkable interview. The spiritual invitation was one, also, that he dared not refiise ; not only that : but it tended somewhat to remove the superstitious dread with which he had begun to regard the mysterious stran- ger. Following at a respectful distance, the padre could not help observing with a thrill of horror that the stranger's footsteps made no impression . on the sand, and his figure seemed at times to blend and in- corporate itself with the fog, until the holy man was 262 THE ADVENTUEE OP PADEE VICEKTIO. obliged to wait for its reappearance. In one of tliese intervals of embarrassment lie heard tbe ringing of tbe far-off Mission bell, proclaiming the hour of mid- night. Scarcely had the last' stroke died away be- fore the announcement was taken up and repeated by a multitude of bells of all sizes, and the air was filled with the sound of striking clocks and the peal ■ ing of steeple chimes. The old man uttered a cry of alarm. The stranger sharply demanded the cause. " The bells ! did you not hear them ?" gasped Padre .Vicentio. " Tush ! tush 1" answered the stranger, "thy fall hath set triple bob-majors ringing in thine ears. Come on !" The padre was only too glad to accept the explan- ation conveyed in this discourteous answer. But he was destined for another singular experience. When they had reached the summit of the eminence now known as Eussian Hill, an exclamation again burst from the padre. The stranger turned to his com- panion with an impatient gesture; but the padre heeded him not The view that burst upon his sight was such as might well have engrossed the attention of a more enthusiastic nature. The fog had not yet reached the hill, and the long valleys and hillsides of the embarcadero below were glittering with the light of a populous city. "Look!" said the padre, stretching his hand over the spreading landscape. " Look, dost thou not see the stately squares and brilliantly-Ughted avenues of a mighty metropolis. Dost thou not see, as it were, another firmament below ?" THE ADVENTtniE OF PADEE TICENTIO. 263 " Avast heaving, reverend man, and quit this folly," said the stranger, dragging the bewildered padre after him. " Behold rather the stars knocked cat of thy hollow noddle by the fall thou hast had. Prithee, get over thy visions and rhapsodies, for the time is nearing apace." The padre humbly followed without another word. Descending the hill toward the north, the stranger leading the way, in a few moments the padre de- tected the wash of waves, and presently his feet struck the firmer sand of the beach. Here the stran- ger paused, and the padre perceived a boat lying in readiness hard by. As he stepped into the stern- sheets, in obedience to the command of his com- panion, he noticed that the rowers seemed to partake of the misty incorporeal texture of his companion, "a similarity that became the more distressing when he also perceived that their oars in pulling together made no noise. The stranger, assuming the helm, guided the boat on quietly, while the fog, settling over the face of the water and closingaround them, seemed to interpose a muffled wall between themselves and the rude jarring of the outer world. As they pushed further into this penetralia, the padre listened anxious- ly for the sound of creaking blocks and the rattling of cordage, but no vibration broke the veiled still- ness or disturbed the warm breath of the fleecy fog. Only one' incident occnrred to break the monotony of their mysterious journey. A one-eyed rower, who sat in front of the padre, catching the devout father's eye, immediately grinned such a ghastly 264 THE ADYENTDIUE OF PADEE YTCENTIO. smile, and winked liis remaining eye with sncli dia- bolical intensity of meaning that the padre was con- strained to utter a pious ejaculation, which, had the disastrous effect of causing the marine Codes to " catch a crab," throwing his heels in the air and his head into the bottom of the boat But even this ac- cident did not disturb the gravity of the rest of the ghastly boat's crew. When, as it seemed to the padre, ten minutes had elapsed, the outhne of a large ship loomed up directly across their bow. Before he could utter the cry of warning that rose to his lips, or brace himself against the expected shock, the boat passed gently and noise- lessly through the sides of the vessel, and the holy man found himself standing on the berth deck of what seemed to be an ancient caraveL The boat and boat's crew had vanished. Only his mysterious friend, the stranger, remained. By the light of a swinging lamp the padre beheld him standing beside a hammock, whereon, apparently, lay the dying man to whom he had been so mysteriously summoned. As the padre, in obedience to a sign from his com- panion, stepped to the side of the suEerer, he feebly opened his eyes and thus addressed him : " Thou seest before thee, reverend father, a help- less mortal, struggling not only with the last agonies of the flesh, but beaten down and tossed with sore anguish of the spirit It matters little when or how I becamis what thou now seest me. Enough that my life has been ungodly and sinful, and that my only hope of thy absolution lies in my imparting to thee a THE ADYENTUEE OF PADEE YICENTIO. 265 secret ■whicli is of vast importance to the holy Church, and affects greatly her power, wealth and dominion on these shores. But the terms of this secret and the conditions of my absolution are pecu- liar. I have but five minutes to Hve. . In that time I must receive the extreme unction of the Church." " And thy secret ?" said the holy father. " Shall be told afterwards," answered the dying man. " Come, my time is short. Shrive me quick- ly-" The padre hesitated. " Couldst thou not tell this secret first ?" " Impossible I" said the dying man, with what seemed to the padre a momentary gleam of triumph. Then as his breath grew feebler he called impatiently, " shrive me ! shrive me 1" " Let me know at least what this secret concerns ?" suggested the padre, insinuatingly. " Shrive me first," said the dying man. But the priest still hesitated, parleying with the sufferer until the ship's bell struck, when, with a tri- umphant, mocking laugh from the stranger, the vessel suddenly fell to pieces, amid the rushing of waters which at once involved the dying, man, the priest, and the mysterious stranger. The padre did not recover his consciousness until high noon the next day, when he found himself lying in a little hollow between the Mission Hills, and his faithful mule a few paces from him, cropping the sparse herbage. The padre made the best of his way home, but wisely abstained firom narrating the' facts 12 266 THE ADYENTUEE OF PADEE TICENTIO. mentioned above, until after tlie discovery of gold, when tlie whole of tMs veracious incident was rela- ted, with the assertion jaf the padre that the secret which was thus mysteriously snatched from his pos- session was nothing more than the discovery of gold, years since, by the runaway sailors fromthe expedi- tion of Sir Francis Drake, THE LEGEND OF DEYE'S POINT. On the northerly shore of San Francisco Bay, at a point where theGlolclen Gate broadens into the Paci- fic stands a bluff, promontory. It affords shelter from the prevailing winds to a semicircular bay on the East. Around this bay the hillside is bleak and bar- ren, but there are traces of former habitation in a weather-beaten cabin and deserted corral. It is said that these were originally built by an enterprising squatter, who for some unaccountable reason aban- doned them shortly after. The " Jumper " who sue" ceeded him disappeared one day, quite mysterious- ly. The third tenant, who seemed to be a man of sanguine, hopeiul temperament, divided the property into building lots, staked off the hill-side, and pro- jected the map of a new metropolis. Failing, how- ever, to convince the citizens of San Francisco that they had mistaken the site of their city, he presently fell into dissipation and despondency. He was fire- 268 THE LEGEND OF DEVIl'S POINT. quently observed hauBting tlie narrow strip of beacli at low tide, or perched upon the cliff at highwater. In the latter position a sheep-tender one day found him, cold and pulseless, with a map of his property in his hand, and his face turned toward the distant sea. Perhaps these circumstances gave the locality its infelicitous reputation. Vague rumors were bruited of a supernatural influence that had been exercised on the tenants. Strange stories were circulated of the origin of the diabolical title by which the prom- ontory was known. By some it was believed to be haunted by the spirit of one of Sir Francis Drake's sailors who had deserted his ship in consequence of stories told by the Indians of gold discoveries, but who had perished by starvation on the rocks. A vaquero who had once passed a night in the ruined cabin, related how a strangely-dressed and emaciat- ed figure had knocked at the door at midnight and demanded food. Other story-tellers, of more histori- cal accuracy, roundly asserted that Sir Francis him- self had been little better than a pirate, and had chosen this spot to conceal quantities of ill-gottea booty, taken from neutral bottoms, and had protect- ed his hiding-place by the orthodox means of hell- ish incantation and diabolic agencies. On moonlight nights a shadowy ship was sometimes seen standing off-and-on, or when fogs encompassed sea and shore, the noise of oars rising and falling in their row-locks could be heard muffled and indistinctly during the night Whatever foundation there might have been THE LEGEND OP DEYIL'S POINT. 269 for these stories, it was certain that a more weird and desolate-looldng spot could not have been selected for their theatre. High hills, verdureless and enfilad- ed with dark caQadas, cast their gaunt shadows on the tide. During a greater portion of the day the wind, which blew furiously and incessantly, seemed pos- sessed with a spirit of fierce disquiet and unrest. Toward nightfall the sea-fog crept with soft step through the portals of the Golden Grate, or stole in noise- less marches down the hillside, tenderly soothing the wind-buffeted face of the cliff, until sea and sky were hid together. At such times the populous city beyond and the nearer settlement seemed removed to an infinite distance. An immeasurable loneliness settled upon the cliff. The creaking of a windlass, or the monotonous chant of sailors on some unseen, outlying ship, came faint and far, and full of mystic suggestion. About a year ago, a well-to-do middle-aged broker of San Francisco found himself at night-fall the sole occupant of a " plunger," encompassed in a dense fog, and drifting toward the Qolden Gate. This unex- pected termination of an afternoon's sail was partly attributable to his want of nautical skill, and partly to the effect of his usually sanguine nature. Having given up the guidance of his boat to the wind and tide, he had trusted too implicitly for that reaction which his business experience assured him was cer- tain to occur in all affairs, aquatic as well as terres- trial " The tide will turn soon," said the broker, confidently, " or something will happen." He had 270 THE LEGEND OF DEYTl's POINT. scarcely settled Mmself back again in tlie stem-slieets, before tbe bow of the plunger, obeying some myste- rious impulse, veered slowly around and a dark ob- ject loomed up before him. A gentl^eddy carried the boat further in-shore, until at last it was complete- ly embayed under the lee of a rocky point now faintly discernible through the fog. He looked around 1dm in the vain hope of recognizing some familiar headland. The tops of the high hills which-rose on either side were hidden in the fog. As the boat swung around, he succeeded in fastening a line to the rocks, and sat down again with a feeling of re- newed confidence and security. It was very cold. The insidious fog penetrated his tightly -buttoned coat, and set his teeth to chattering in spite of the aid he sometimes drew from a pocket- flask. His clothes were wet and the- stem-sheets were covered with spray. The comforts of fire and shelter continually rose before his fancy as he gazed wistfully on the rocks. In sheer despair he finally drew the boat toward the most accessible part of the cliff and essayed to ascen^. This was less difficult than it appeared, and in a few moments he had gained the hill above. A dark object at a little distance at- tracted liis attention, and on approaching it proved to be. a deserted cabin. The story goes on to say, that having built a roaring fire of stakes pulled from the adjoining corral, with the aid of a flask of excellent brandy, he managed to pass the early part of the evening with comparative comfort There was no door in the cabin, and the windows THE LEGEND OF DETIL'S POINT. 271 were simply square openings, wMcli freely admitted the searching fog. But in spite of these discomforts — ^being a man of cheerful, sanguine temperament — ■ he amused himself by poking the fire, and watching the ruddy glow which the flames threw on the fog from the open door. In this innocent occupation a great weariness overcame him and he fell asleep. He was awakened at midnight by a loud " halloo," which seemed to proceed directly from the sea. Thinking it might be the cry of .some boatman lost in the fog, he walked to the edge of the cliff, but the thick veil that covered sea and land rendered all objects at the distance of a few feet indistinguishable. He heard, however, the regular strokes of oars rising and falling on the water. The halloo was repeated. He was clearing his throat to reply, when to his sur- prise an answer came apparently from the very cabin he had quitted- . Hastily retracing his steps, he was the more amazed, on reaching the open door,' to find a stranger warming himself by the fire. Stepping back far enough to conceal his own person, he took a good look at^the intruder. He was a man of about forty, with a cadaverous fece. B ut the oddity of his dress attracted the broker's attention more than his lugubrious physiognomy. His legs were hid in enormously wide trowsers descend- ing to his knee, where they met long boots of seal- skin. A pea jacket with exaggerated cuffs, almost as large as the breeches, covered his chest, and around his waist a monstrous belt, with a buckle like a dentist's sign, supported two trumpet-mouthed pis- 272 THE lEGEND OF DEVIL'S POINT. tols and a curved- tanger. He wore a long qaene whicli depended lialf way down his back. As the fire-light fell on his ingenuous countenance the bro ker observed with some concern that this queue was . formed entirely of a kind of tobacco, known as pig- tail or twist Its effect, the broker remarked, was much heightened when in a moment of thoughtful ab- straction the apparition bit off a portion of it, and roll- ed it as a quid into the cavernous recesses of his jaws. Meanwhile, the nearer splash of oars indicated the approach of the unseen boat. The broker had bare- ly time to conceal himself behind the cabin before a number of uncouth-looking figures clambered up the hill towards the ruined rendezvous. They were dressed like the previous comer, who, as they pass- ed through the open door, exchanged greetings with each iu antique phraseology, bestowing at the same time some familiar nickname. Flash-in-the-Pan, Spitter-of-Frogs, Malmsey Butt, Latheyard-Will, and Mark-the-Pinker, were the few sobriquets the broker remembered. "Whether these titles were given to ex- press some peculiarity of their owner he could not tell, for a silence followed as they slowly ranged them- selves upon the floor of the cabin in a semi-circle around their cadaverous host At length Malmsey Butt, a Spherical-bodied man- of-war's-man with a mbicund nose, got on his legs somewhat unsteadily, and addressed himself to the company. They had met that evening, said the speaker, in accordance with a time-honored custom. This was simply to. relieve that one of their number THE LEGEND OF DEYEL's POINT. 273 wliQ for fifty years had kept watcli and ward over tlie locality where certain treasures had been buried. At this point the broker pricked up his ears. " If so be, camarados and brothers all," he continued, " ye are jeady to receive the report of our expellent and well-beloved brother, Master Slit-the-Weazand, touch- ing his search for this treasure, why, inarry, to't and begin.' A murmur of assent went around the circle Us the speaker»resumed his seat Master Slit-the-Weazand slowly opened his lantern jaws, then began. He had spent much of his time in determining the exact lo- cation of the treasure. He believed — nay, he could state positively — ^that its position was now settled. It was true he had done some trifling little business outside. Modesty forbade his mentioning the, par- ticulars, but he would simply state that of the three tenants who had occupied the cabin during the past ' ten years, none were now alive. [Applause, and cries of " Gro to I thou wast always a tall-fellow !" and the like.] Mark-the-Pinker next arose. Before proceeding to business, he had a duty to perform in the sacred name of Friendship. It ill became him to pass an eulogy upon the qualities of the speaker who had preceded him, for he had known him fi-om " boy- hood's hour." Side by side they had wrought to- gether in the Spanish war. For a neat hand with a toledo he challenged his equal, while how nobly and beautifully he had won his present title of Slit-the- Weazand, all could testify. The speaker, with some 274 THE LEGEND OF DETIl's POINT. show of emotion, asked to be pardoned if lie dwelt too freely on passages of their early companionsHp ; he then detailed, with a fine touch of humor, his com- rade's peculiar manner of slitting the ears and lips of a refractory Jew, who had heen captured in one of their previous, voyages. He would not weary the patience of his hearers, but would briefly propose that the report of Slit-fhe-Weazand be accepted, and that the thanks of the company be tendered hioa. A breaker of strong spirits was then rolled into the hut, and cans of grog, were circulated freely from hand to hand. The health, of Slit-the-Weazand was proposed in a neat speech by Mark-the-Pinker, and responded to by the former gentleman in a manner that drew tears to the eyes of aU present. To the broker, in his concealment, this momentary diver- sion firom the real business of the meeting, occasioned much anxiety. As yet nothing had been said to in- dicate the exact locality of the treasure to which they had mysteriously alluded. Fear restrained him from open inquiry, and curiosity kept him from making good his escape during the orgies which followed. But his situation was beginning to become critical Flash-in-the-Pan, who seemed to have been a man of choleric humor, taking fire during some hotly-con- tested argument, discharged both his pistols at the breast of his opponent The balls passed through on each side immediately below his arm-pits, making a clean hole, through which the horrified broker could see the fii-e-light behind him. The wounded man, without betraying any concern, excited the laughter THE LEGEND OF DEYIL'S POINT. 275 of tlie company, by jocosely putting his arms akimbo, and inserting his thumbs into the orifices of the ■wounds, as if they had been arm-holes. This hav- ing in a measure restored good humor, the party joined hands and formed a circle preparatory to dancing. The dance was commenced by some mono- tonous stanzas hummed, in a very high key by one of the party, the rest joining in the following chorus, which seemed to present a familiar sound to the bro- ker's ear. " Her Majestie is very sioke, Lord Essex hath ye measles, " Our Admiral hath licked ye French — Poppe ! saith ye weasel !" At the regular recurrence of the last line, the party discharged their loaded pistols in all directions, ren- dering the position of the unhappy broker one of ex- treme peril and perplexity. When the tumult had partially subsided, Flash- in-the-Pan called the meeting to order, and most of the revelers returned to their places, Malmsey Butt, however, insisting upon another chorus, and singing at the top of Ms voice : " I am yoleped J. Keyser — I was bom at Spring, hys Garden, My fether toe make me ane clerke erst did essaye. But a fico for ye offis— I spnrn ye losels offeire ; For I fain would be ane butcher by'r ladykin alwaye." Flash-in-the-Pan drew a pistol from his belt, and bidding some one gag Malmsey Butt with the stock ,of it, proceeded to read from a portentous roll of parchment that he held in his hand. It was a semi- 276 THE LEGEND OP DEYIL's POINT. legal document, clotlied in tlie quaint phraseology of a by-gone period. After a long preamble, asserting their loyalty as lieges of Her most bountiful Majesty and Sovereign Lady the Queen, the document declar- ed that they then and there took possession of the promontory, and all the treasure trove therein con- tained, formerly buried by Her Majesty's most faith- ful and devoted Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, with the right to search, discover and appropriate the same ; and for the purpose thereof they did then and there form a guild or corporation to so discover, search for and disclose said treasures, and by virtue thereof they solemnly subscribed their names. But at this moment the reading of the parchment was arrested by an exclamation from the assembly, and the broker was seen frantically struggling at the door in the strong arms of Mark-the-Pinker. " Let me go I" he cried as he made a desperate at- tempt to reach the side of Master Flash-in -the-Pan. "Let me go I I tell you, gentlemen, that document is not worth the parchment it is written on. The laws of the State — ^the pustoms of the country — the mining ordinances — are all against it Don't, by all that's sacred, throw away such a capital investment throiigh ignorance and informality. Let me go I I assure you, gentlemen, professionally, •^that you have a big thing — a remarkably big thing, and even if I ain't in it, I'm not going to see it fall through. Don't, for God's sake, gentlemen, I implore ■ you, put your names to such a ridiculous paper. There isn't a no- tary " THE LEGEND OF DEVIL'S POINT. 277 He ceased. The figures around him, which were beginning to grow fainter and more indistinct, as he • went on, swam Tjefore his eyes, flickered, re-appeared again, and finally went out He rubbed his eyes and gazed around him. The cabin was deserted. On the hearth the red embers of his fire were fading away in the bright beams of the morning sun, that looked aslant through the open window. He ran out to the clifE The sturdy sea-breeze fanned his feverish cheeks, and tossed the white caps of waves that beat in pleasant music on the beach below. A stately merchantman with snowy canvas was enter- ing the Gate. The voices of sailors came cheerfally from a bark at anchor below the point The mus- kets of the sentries gleamed brightly on Alcatraz, and the rolling of drums swelled on the breeze. Farther on, the hills of San Francisco, cottage- crowned and bordered with wharves and warehouses, met his longing eye. -Such is the Legend of Devil's Point. Any objec- tions to its reliability may be met with the statement that the broker who tells the story has since incorporated a company under the title of " Flash- in-the Pan Gold and Silver Treasure Mining Com- pany," and that its shares are already held at a stiff figure. A copy of the original document is said to be on record in the office of the company, and on any clear day, the locality of the claim may be dis- tinctly seen from the hills of San Francisco. THE DEVIL AND THE BROKER. A MEDLEVAL LEGEND. The cturcli clocks in San Francisco were striking ten. The Devil, wko had been flying over the city that evening, just then alighted on the roof of a church near the corner of Bush and Montgomeiy streets. It will be perceived that the popular belief that the Devil avoids holy edifices, and vanishes at the sound of a Oredo or Paternoster, is long since ex- ploded. Indeed, modem skepticism asserts that he is not averse to these orthodox discourses, which par- ticularly bear reference to himself, and in a measure recognize his power and importance. I am inclined to think, however, that his choice of a resting-place was a good deal influenced by its contiguity to a populous thoroughfare. When he was comfortably seated he began pulling out the joints of a small rod which he held in his hand, and which presently proved to be an extraordinary fish- ing-pole, with a telescopic adjustment that permitted its protraction to a marvelous extent Affixing a THE DEVIL AND THE BEOKEE. 279 line thereto, lie selected a fly of a particular pattern from a small box wMcli lie carried witli him, and, making a skillftil cast, threw- his line into the very centre of that living stream which ebbed and flowed through Montgomery Street. Either the people were very virtuous that evening or the bait was not a taking one. In vain the Devil whipped the stream at an eddy in front of the Occi- dental, or trolled his line into the shadows of the Cosmopolitan; five minutes passed without even a nibble. "Dear me!" quoth the Devil, "that's very- singular ; one of my most popular flies, too ! Why, they'd have risen by shoals in Broadway or Beacon street, for that. Well, here goes another," and) fitting a new fly from his well filled box, he grace- fully recast his line. For a few moments there was every prospect , of sport. The line was continually bobbing and the nibbles were distinct and gratifying. Once or twice the bait was apparently gorged and carried off' in the upper stories of the hotels to be digested at leisure. At such times the professional manner in which the Devil played out his line would have thrilled the heart of Izaak' Walton. But his efforts were unsuc- cessful ; th^i bait was invariably carried off without hooking the victim, and the Devil finally lost his temper. " I've heard of these San Franciscans be. fore," he muttered; "wait till I get hold of one — that's all !" he added malevolently, as he re-baited his hook. A sharp tug and a wriggle foiled his next trial, and finally, with considerable effort, he landed a portly 200-lb. broker upon the church roof. 280 THE DEVIL AND THE BBOKEE. As the victim lay tTiere gasping, it was evident tliat the Devil was in no Imrry to remove tlie hook from his gills; nor did he exhibit in this delicate operation that "courtesy of manner and graceful manipulation which usually distinguished him. " Come," he said gruffly, as he grasped the broker by the waistband, " quit that whining and grunting. Don't flatter yourself that you're a prize, either. I was certain to have had you. It was only a question of time." "It is not that, my lord,' which troubles me," whined the unfortunate wretch, as he painfully wriggled his head, "but that I should have been fooled by such a paltry bait "What will they say of me down there? To have let 'bigger things' go by, and to be tak^n in by this cheap trick,'' he added, as he groaned and glanced at the fly which the Devil was carefully re-arranging, " is what — ^par- don me, my lord — ^is what gets me !" "Yes," said the Devil, philosophically, "I never caught anybody yet" who didn't say that ; but tell me, ain't you getting somewhat fastidious down there ? Here is one of my most popular flies, the greenback," he continued, exhibiting an emerald looking insect, which he drew from his box. " This, so generally considered excellent in election season, has jiot even been nibbled at Perhaps your sagacity, which, in spite of this unfortunate contre- temps, no one can doubt," added the Devil, with a graceful return to his usual courtesy, " may explain the reason or suggest a substitute." THE DEVIL AND THE BEOKEE. 281 The broker glanced at the contents of the box with a supercilious smile. " Too old-fashioned, my lord — long ago played out" " Yet," he added, with a gleam of interest, "for a consideration I might offer something — ahem ! — ^that would make a taking substitute for these trifles. Give me," he continued, ia a brisk, business-like way, '• a slight percentage and a bonus down, and I'm your man." " Name your terms," said the Devil earnestly. " My liberty and a percentage on all you take, and the thing's done." The Devil .caressed his tail thoughtfully, for a few moments. He was certain of the broker any way — and the risk was slight. " Done !" he said; "Stay a moment," said the artful broker. "There are certain contingencies. Give me your fishing rod and let me apply the bait myself. It requires a skillful hand, my lord; even your well-known ex- perience might fail. Leave me alone for half an hour, and if you have reason to complain of my success I wUl forfeit my deposit — I mean my' liberty." The Devil acceded to his request, bowed and with- drew. Alighting gracefally in M ontgomery Street, he dropped into Meade & Go.'s clothing store, where, hav- ing completely equipped himself a la mode, he sallied forth intent on his personal enjoyment. Determining to sink his professional character, he mingled with the current of human life, and enjoyed, with that immense capacity for excitement peculiar to his nature, the whirl, bustle and feverishness of the people, as a 282 THE DETIL AND THE BEOKEB. purely sesthetic gratification unalloyed' by the cares of business. What he did that evening does not be- long to our story. We return to the broker, whom we left on the roof When he made sure that the Devil had retired, he carefully drew from his pocket-book a slip of paper and affixed it on the hook. The line' had scarcely reached the current before he felt a bite. The hook was swallowed. To bring up his victim rapidly, disengage him from the hook and re-set his line was the work of a moment Another bite and the same result Another, and another. In a very few min- utes the roof was covered with his panting spdil. The broker could himself distinguish that many of them were personal friends-^-nay, some of them were fami- har frequenters of the building on which they were now miserably stranded. That the broker felt a cer- ' tain satisfaction in being instrumental in thus mis- leading his fellow-brokers no one acquainted with human nature wUl for a moment doubt But a strong- er pull on his line caused him to put forth all his strength and skill. The magic pole bent like a coach- whip. The broker held firm, assisted by the battle- ments of the church. Again and again it was almost wrested from his hand, and again again he slowly reeled in a portion of the tightening line. At last, with one mighty effort, he lifted to the level of the roof a straggling object A howl Hke Pandemonium rang through the air as the broker successfully land- ed at his feet — ^the Devil himself! The two glared fiercely at each other. The broker, THE DE7IL AND THE BROKER, 283 peAaps mindful of Ms former treatment, evinced no haste to remove the hook from his antagonist's jaw. When it was finally accomplished, he asked quietly if the Devil was satisfied. That gentleman seemed absorbed in the contemplation of the bait which he had just taken from his mouth. " I am," he said, finally, " and forgive ybn — ^but what do you call this ?" " Bend low,I' replied the Broker, as he buttomed ap his coat ready to depart. The Devil inclined his ear. " I caU it Wild Oat ?" THE OGMSS OF SHYER LMD ; OB, THE DIVERTING HISTOEY OF PEINCE BADFELLAH AND PRINCE BULLEBOTE. In the second year of tte reign of the renowned Caliph Lo there dwelt in Silver Land, adjoining his territory, a certain terrible ogress. She lived in the bowels of a dismal mountain, where she was in the habit of confining such unfortunate travelers as ven- tured within her domain. The country for miles around was sterile and barren. In some places it was covered with a white powder, which was called in the language of the country Al Ka Li, and was sup- posed to be the pulverized bones of those who had per- ished miserably in her service. In spite of this, every year, gi-eat numbers of young men devoted themselves to the service of the ogress, hoping to become her godsons, and to enjoy the good fortune which belonged to that privileged '^class. For these godsons had no work to perform, neither at the mountain nor elsewhere, but roamed about the world with credentials of their relationship in their pockets, which they called stokh, which was THE OGEESS OF SILTEB LANE. 285 stamped witli tlie stamp and sealed with the seal of ogress, and %liich enabled them at the end of each moon to draw large quantities of gold and silver from her treasury. And the wisest and most favor- ed of those godsons were the Princes Badfellah and BuLLEBOYE. They knew all the secrets of the ogress, and how to wheedle and coax her. They were also the favorites of Soopah Intendent, who was her Lord High Chamb,erlain and Prime Minis- ter, and who dwelt in Silvee Land. One day, Soopah Intendbnt said to his servants, "What is that which travels the most surely, the most secretly, and the most swiftly?" And they all answered as one man , " Lightning, my Lord, travels the most surely, the most swiftly and the most secretly !" Then said Soopah Intendent, "Let lightning car- ry this message secretly, swiftly and surely ^o my be- loved friends the Princes Badfellah and Bulle- BOYE, and tell them that theii- godmother is dying, .and bid them seek some other godmother or sell their stokh ere it becomes hadjee — worthless." " Bekhesm ! On our heads be it !" answered the servants ; and they ran to Lightning with the message, who flew with it to the City by the Sea, and deliv- ered it, even at that moment, into the hands of the Princes Badfellah and Bulleboye. Now the Prince Badfellah was a wicked youiig man, and when he had received this message he tore his beard and rent his garment and reviled his god- teiother, and his friend Soopah Littendent. But 286 . THE OGKESS OF SILVER LAOT). presently he arose, and dressed himself in Ms finest stuffs, and went forth into the Bazaars and among the merchants, capering and dancing as he walked, and crying in a loud voice, "Oh, happy day — oh, day worthy to be marked with a white stone !" This he said cunningly, thinking the merchants and men of the bazaars woTild gather about him, which they presently did, and began to question him : " "What news, O most worthy and serene Highness ? Tell us,- that we make merry, too !" Then replied the cunning prince, " Good news, my brothers, for I have heard this day that my god- mother in Silver Land is well," The merchants who were not aware of the substance of the real mes- sage, envied him greatly, and said one to another: " Surely our brother the Prince Badfellah is favor- ed by Allah above all men ;" and they were about to retire, when the prince checked them, saying : " Tarry for a moment Here are my credentials or STOKH. The same I will sell you for fifty thousand sequins, for I have to give a feast to-day, and need much gold. Who will give fifty thousand?" And he again fell to capering and dancing. But this time the merchants drew a little apart, and some of the oldest and wisest said : " What dirt is this which the prince would have us swallow. If his godmother were well, why should he sell his STOKH. Bismillah I The olives are old and the jar is broken !" When Prince Badfellah perceived them whispering, his countenance fell, and his knees smote against each other through fear ; but dissembling again, he said : THE OGEESS OF SILVEE LAND. 287 " "Well, SO be it ! Lo, I liave mucli more tlian shall abide with me, for my days kie many and my wants are few. Say forty thousand sequins for my STOKH and let me depart in Allah's name. Who will give forty thousand sequins to become the godson of such a healthy mother?" And he again fell to capering and dancing, but not as gaily as before, for his heart was troubled, "^e merchants, however, only moved farther away. "Thirty thousand sequins," cried Prince Badfellah ; but even as he spoke they fled be- fore his face crying : " His godmother is dead. Lo, the jackals are defiling her grave. Mashalla ! he has no godmother." And they sought out Panik, the swift- fobted messenger, and bade him shout through the bazaars that the godmother of Peince Badfellah was dead. "When he heard this, the prince fell upon his face, and rent his garments, and covered himself , with the dust of the market place. As he was sit- ting thus, a porter passed him with jars of wine on his shoulders, and the prince begged him to give him a jar, for he was exceeding thirsty and faint. But the porter said, " "What will my lord give me first ?" And the prince, in very bitterness of spirit, said, " Take this," and handed him his STOKH and so ex- changed it for a jar of wine. Now the Prince BuLLEBOTE was of a very differ- ent disposition. When he recieved the message of SooPAH Intendent he bowed his head, and said, "It is the will of God." Then h'e rose, and without speaking a word entered the gates of his palace. But his wife, the peerless Maeee Jahann, perceiving the 288 THE OGBESS OF SILYEB LAND, gravity of his countenance, said, " Why is my lord cast down and silent? "Why are those rare and priceless pearls, his words, shut up so tightly be- tween those gorgeous oyster shells, his lips ?" But to this he made no reply. Thinking further to di- vert him, she brought her lute into the chamber and stood before him, and sang the song and danced the dance of Ben Kotton, which is^alled Ibrahim's Daughtee, but she could not lift the veil of sadness from his brow. When she had ceased, the Prince Btjllebote arose and said, " Allah is great, and what am I, his servant, but the dust of the earth ! Lo, this day has my godmother sickened unto death, and my stokh become as a withered palm leaf. Call hither my servants and camel drivers, and* the merchants that have furnished me with stuffs, and the beggars who have feasted at my table, and bid them take all that is here, for it is mine no longer !' With these words he buried his face in his mantle and wept aloud. But Maeee Jahann", his wife, plucked him by the sleeve : " Prithee, my lord," said she, " bethink thee of the Beokah or scrivener, who besought thee but yesterday to share thy stokh with him and gave thee his bond for fifty thousand sequins ?" But the noble Prince Bulleboye, raising his head, said : " Shall I sell to him for fifty thousand sequins that which I know is not worth a Soo Maekee. For is not all the Beokah's wealth — even his wife and children, pledged on that bond? Shall I ruin him to save myself? Allah forbid I Ealher let me eat the THE OGEESS OF Sn,VEE LAOTJ. - 289 salt fish of honest penury, than the Mbobs of dishon- orable affluence : rather let me wallow in the mire of virtuous oblivion, than repose on the divan of luxu- rious wickedness." When the prince had given utterance to this beau- tiful and edifying sentiment a strain of gentle music was heard, and the rear wall of the apartment, which had been ingeniously constructed like a flat, opened and discovered the Ogress of SiLVEE Land in the glare of blue fire, seated on a triumphal car attached to two ropes which were connected with the flies, in the Very act of blessing the unconscious prince. When the walls closed again without attracting his attention. Prince Bullebote arose, dressed himself in- his coarsest and cheapest stuffs, and sprinkled ash- es on his head, and in this guise, having embraced his wife, went forth into the bazaars. In this it will be perceived how differently the good Prince BuLLE- BOY-K acted from the wicked Prince Badpellah, who put on his gayest garments to simulate and deceive. Now when Prince Bullebote entered the chief bazaar, where the merchants of the city were gath- ered in council, he stood up. in his accustomed place, and all that were there held their breath, for the no- ble Prince BuLLEBOYE was much respected, " Let the Beokah, whosis bond I hold for fifty thousand sequins, stand forth!" said the prince. And the Beokah stood forth firom among the merchants. Then said the prince : " Here is thy bond for fifty thousand sequins, for which I was to deliver unto thee one-half of my stokh. Know, then, my 13 290 THE OGEESS OF SILVEB LAND. brother— and thou, too, Aga of the Bbokahs— that this mj stokh which I pledged to thee is worth- less. For my godmother, the Ogress of Silver Land, is dying. Thus do I release thee from thy bond, and from the poverty which might overtake thee as it has even me, thy brother, the Prince BuLLEBOTE." And with that the noble Prince BuLLEBOTE tore the bond of the Beokah into pieces and scattered it to the four winds. Now when the prince tore up the bond there was a great commotion, and some said : " Surely the Prince BuLLEBOYB is drunken with wine ;" and others : " He is possessed of an evil spirit ;" and his friends expostulated with him, sayiag: "What thou hast done is not the custom of the bazaars — ^behold, it is not Biz 1" But to all the prince answered gravely : " It is right — on my own head be it !" But the oldest and wisest of the merchants, they who had talked with Prince Badfellah the same morning, whispered together, and gathered around the Beokah whose bond the Prince Bulleboye had torn up. "Hark ye," said they, "our brother the Prince Bulleboye is cunning as a jackal. "What bosh is this about ruining himself to save thee? Such a thing was never heard before in the bazaars. It is a trick, thou mooncalf of a Beokah ! Dost thou not see that he has heard good news from his godmother, the same that was even now told us by the Prince Badfellah, his confederate, and that he would destroy thy bond for fifty thousand sequins THE OGBESS OP SILVER lAND. 291 because his stokh is yrorth a hundred thousand! Be not deceived, O too ci'edulous Beokah ! for this what our brother the princo doeth is not in the name of Allah, biit of Biz, the only god \nown in the bazaars of the city." When the foolish Brokah heard these things he cried : " Justice, Aga of i;he' Beokahs — -justice and the fulfillment of my bond ! Let the prince de- liver unto me the sTOKH. Here are my fifty thou- sand sequins." But the prince said : " Have I not told that my godmother is dying, and that my stokh is valueless?" At this the Beokah only clamored the more for justice and the fulfillment of his bond. Then the Aga of the Brokahs said. " Since the bond is destroyed, behold thou hast no claim. Go thy ways I" But the Brokah again cried : " Justice, my lord Aga ! Behold, I offer the prince seventy thou- sand sequins for his stokh !" But the prince said : " It is not worth one sequin !" Then the Aga said : " Bismillah ! I cannot understand this. Whether thy godmother be dead, or dying, or immortal, does not seem to signify. Therefore, prince, by the laws of Biz and of Allah, thou art released. Give the Brokah thy stokh for seventy thousand sequins and bid him depart in peace. On his own head be it!" When the prince heard this command, he handed Ms stokh to the Brokah, who counted out to him seventy thousand sequins. But the heart of the virtuous prince did not rejoice, nor did the Brokah, -whea. he found his stokh was valueless •. 292 THE OGEESS. OB SILTBE LAITO. but tbe mercljaiiits lifted their hands in wonder at the sagacity and wisdom of the famoas Prince Bulle- BpYE. For none would believe that it was the law of Allah that the prince followed, and not the rules of Biz. TIE RUINS OF SIN FRMCISGO. ToWAHDS tlie close of the I9t]l century \h& city of San Francisco was totally engulfed by an earthquake. Although the whole coast line must have been much shaken, the accident seems to have been purely local and even the city of Oakland escaped. Schwappei- fort, the celebrated German geologist, has endeavored to explain this singular fact by suggesting that there are some things the earth cannot swallow-^a state- ment that should be received with some caution, as exceeding the latitude of ordinary geological specu' lation. Historians disagree in the exact date of the calam- ity. Tulu Krish, the well-known New Zealander, whose admirable speculations on the ruins of St. Paul as seen from London Bridge have won for him the at- tentive consideration of the scientific world, fixes the occurrence in A. D. 1880. This, supposing the city to have been actually founded in 1850,~as asserted, would give but thirty years for it to have assumed the size and proportions it had evidently attained at the time of its destruction. It is not our purpose, however, to question the conclusions of the justly 294 THE ETHNS OF SAN FaANCISCO. famed Maorian pMosopiier. Our present business lies with tlie excavations that are now being prose- cuted by order of the Hawaiian Government upon the site of the lost city. Every one is familiar with the story of its discovery. For many years the bay of San Francisco had been famed for the luscious quality of its oysters. It ia stated that a dredger one day raked up a large bell, which prove to belong to the City Hall, and led to the discovery of the cupola of that building. The attention of the Govemment was at once directed to the spot The bay of San Francisco was speedily drained by a system of patent syphons, and the city, deeply imbedded in mud, brought to light after a burial of many centuries. The City Hall, Post Office-, Mint and Custom House were readily recognized by the large full-fed barnacles which adhered to their walls. Shortly afterwards the first skeleton was dis- covered, that of a broker, whose position in the up- per strata' of mud nearer the surface, was supposed to be t)wing to the exceeding buoyancy or inflation of scrip which he had secured about his person while endeavoring to escape. Many skeletons, supposed to be those of females, encompassed in that peculiar steel coop or cage, which seems to have been worn by the women of that period, were also found in the upper stratum. Alexis von Puffer, in his admirable work on San Francisco, accounts for the position of these unfortunate creatures, by asserting that the steel cage was originally the frame of a parachute-like garment which distended the skirt, and in the submersion of THE BUINS OP SAN rEANOISCO. 295 tTie city prevented tliem from sinking. " If anything," says Von Puifer, " could liave been wanting to add intensity to the horrible catastrophe which took place as tlie waters first entered the city, it would have been furnished in the forcible separation of the sexes at this trying moment. Buoyed up by their peculiar garments, the female population instantly ascended to to the surface. As the drowning husband turned his eyes above, what must have been his agony as he saw his wife shooting upward, and knew that he was de- barred the privilege of perishing with her? To the lasting honor of the male inhabitants, be it said that but few seem to have availed themselves of their wives' superior levity. Only one skeleton was found still grasping the ankles of another in their upward jour- ney to the surface." For many years California had been subject to slight earthquakes, more or less generally felt, but not of sufficient importance to awaken anxiety or fear. Per- haps the absorbing nature of the San Franciscans' pursuits of gold getting, which metal seems to have been valuable in -those days, and actually used as a medium of currency, rendered the inhabitants reck- less of all other matters. Bveiything tends to show that the calamity was totally unlocked for. We quote the graphic langulge of Schwappelfurt : " The morning of the tremendous catastrophe pro- bably dawned upon the.usual restless crowd of gold ' getters intent upon their several avocations. The streets were filled with the expanded figures of gaily- dressed women, acknowledging with coy glances the 296 THE EUINS OF SAN EEANCISCO. respectful salutations of beaux as they gracefully- raised their remarkable cylindrical bead-coverings, a model of wbicb is still preserved in the Honolulu Museum. The brokers bad gathered at their respec- tive temples. The shopmen were exhibiting their goods. The idlers, or 'Bummers' — ^a term applied .to designate an aristocratic, privileged class who en- joyed immunities from labor and from whom a ma- jority of the rulers are chosen — ^were listlessly regard- ing the promenaders from the street comers or the doors of their bibulous tem,ples. A slight premon- itory thrill runs through the city. The busy life of this restless microcosm is arrested. The shopkeeper pauses as he elevates the goods to bring them into a favorable light, and the glib professional recommenda- tion sticks on his tongue. In the drinking saloon the glass is checked half way to the lips ; on the streets the promenaders pause. Another thrill and the city begins to go down a few of the more persis- tent topers tossing off their liquor at the same m.o- ment. Beyond a terrible sepsation of nausea, the crowds who now throng the streets do not realize the extent of the catastrophe. The waters of the bay recede at first from the centre of depression, assum- ing a concave shape, the outer edge of the circle tow- ering many thousand feet above the city. Another convulsion, and the water instantly resumes its level. The city is smoothly engulfed nine thousand feet be- low, and the regular swell of the Pacific calmly rolls over it Terrible," says Schwappelfurt, in conclusion, " as the calamity must have been, in direct relation THE EUINS OF SAN FBANCISCO. 297 to tte individuals immediately concerned therein, we cannot but admire its artistic management ; tlie divi- . sion of the catastrophe into three periods, the com- pleteness of the cataclysms .and the rare combination of sincerity of intention with felicity of execution." A NIGHT AT WHGDAM. I HAD been stage-ridden and bewildered all day, and wben we swept down with the darkness into the Arcadian hamlet of " Wingdam," I resolved to go no_ further, and rolled out in a gloomy and dyspeptic stata The effects of a mysterious pie, and some sweetened carbonic acid known to the proprietor of the "Half "Way House" as "lemming sody," still oppressed me. Even the facetiae of the gallant ex- pressman who knew everybody's christian name along the route, who rained letters, newspapers and bundles from the top of the stage, whose legs fre- quently appeared in frightful proximity to the wheels, who got on and off while we were going at full speed, whose gallantry, energy and superior knowledge of travel crushed all us other passengers to envious silence, and who just then was talking with several persons and manifestly doing something else at the same time — even this had failed to inter- est me. So I stood gloomily, clutching my shawl and carpet bag, and watched the stage roll away, taking a parting look at the gallant expressman as he hung on the top rail with one leg, and lit hia A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. 299 cigar from the pipe of a running footman. I tlien turned toward the "Wingdam Temperance HoteL It jmay have been the -weather, or it may have been the pie,' but I was not impressed favorably with the house. Perhaps it was the name extending the whole length of the building, with a letter under each window, making the people who looked out dreadiuUy conspicuous. Perhaps it was tMt " Tem- perance " always suggested to my mind, rusks and weak tea. It was uninviting. It might have been called the " Total Abstinence " Hotel, from the lack of anything to intoxicate or enthrall the senses. It was designed with an eye io artistic dreariness. It was so much too large for the settlement, that it ap- peared to be a very slight improvement on out-doors. It was unpleasantly new. There was the forest fla- vor of dampness about it, and a slight spicing of pine. Nature outraged, but not entirely subdued, sometimes broke out afresh in little round, sticky, resinous tears on the doors and windows. It seemed to me that boarding there must seem like a perpetual picnic. As I entered the door, a number of the reg- ular boarders rushed out of a long room, and set about trying to get the taste of something out of their mouths, by the application of tobacco in various forms. A few immediately ranged themselves around the fire-place, with their legs over each other's chairs, and in that position silently resigned themselves to indigestion. Eemembering the pie, I waived the in- vitation of the landlord to supper, but suffered my- self to be conducted into the sitting-room. " Mine, 800 A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. host" was a magnificent looking, heavily bearded specimen of tlie animal man. He reminded me of somebody or something connected with the drama. I was sitting beside the fire, mutely wondering what it could be, and trying to follow the particular chord of memory thus touched, into the intricate past, when a little delicate-looldng woman appeared at the door, and leaning heavily against the casing, said in an ex- hausted tone. " Husband !•" As the landlord turned toward her, that particular remembrance flashed be- fore me, in a single line of blank verse.' It was tliis : " Two souls with but one single thought, two hearts that beat as one." • It was Ingomar and Parthenia his wife. I im- agined a different denouement from the play. In^ gomar had taken Parthenia back to the mountains, and kept a hotel for the benefit of the Alemanni, who resorted there in large numbers. Poor Parthenia was pretty well fagged out, and did all the work without "help." She had two " young barbarians," a boy ajid a girl. She was faded^ — ^but still good looking. I sat and talked with Ingomar, who seemed perfectly at home and told me several stories of the Alemanni, all bearing a strong flavor of the wilderness, and being perfectly in keeping with the house. How he, In- gomar, had killed a certain dreadful " bar," whose skin was just up "yar," over his bed. How he, In- gomar, had killed several " bucks," whose skins had been prettily fringed and embroidered by Parthenia, and even now clothed him. How he, ligomar, had A NIGHT AT WINeDAM. 301 killed several " Injins," and was once nearly scalped himself. All this with that ingenious candor which is perfectly justifiable in a barbarian, but which a Greek might feel inclined to look upon as "blow- ing." Thinking of the wearied Parthenia, I began to consider Sov the first time that perhaps she had better married the old Greek. Then she would at least have al\^ays looked neat. Then she would not have worn a woolen dressflavored with all the dinners of the'^ast year. Then she would not have been obliged to wait on the table with her hair half down. Then the two children would not have hung about her skirts with dirty fingers, palpably dragging her down day by day. I suppose it was the pie which put such heartless and improper ideas in my head, and so I rose up and told Ingomar I believed I'd go to bed. Preceded by that redoutable barbarian and a flaring tallow candle, I followed him up stairs to my room. It was the only single room he had, he told me; he had built it for the convenience of .rharried" parties who might stop here, but that event not happening yet, he had left it half' famished. It had cloth on one side, and large cracks on the other. The wind, which always swept over Wingdam at night time, puffed through the apartment from different apertures. The window was too small for the hole in the side of the house where, it hung, and rattled noisily. Everything looked cheerless an'd dis- piriting. Before Ingomar left me, he brought that " bar-pkin," and throwing it- over the solemn bier which stood in one comer, told me he reckoned that 302 A NIGHT AT 'WINGDAM. ■would keep me warm, and tlieii bade me good niglit I undressed myself, the light blowing out in the middle of that ceremony, crawled under the " bar- skin," and tried to compose myself to sleep. But I was staringly wide awake. I heard the wind sweep down the mountain side, and toss the branches of the melancholy pine, and then enter the house, and try all the doors along the passage. Some- times strong currents of air blew my hair all over the pillow, as with strange whispering breaths. The green timber along the walls seemed to be sprouting, and sent a dampness even through the bar-skin." I felt like Eobinson Crusoe in his tree, with the ladder pulled up — or like the rocked baby of the nursery song. After lying awake half an hour, I regretted having stopped at " Wingdam ;" at the end of the third quarter, I wished I had not gone to bed, and when a restless hour passed, I got up and dressed myseK There had been a fire down in the big room. Perhaps it was still burning. I opened the door and groped my way along a passage, vocal with the snores of the Alemanni and the whistling of the night wind ; I partly fell down stairs, and at last entering the big room, saw the fire still burning. I drew a chair toward it, poked it with my foot, and was as- tonished to see, by the up-springing flash, that Parthe- nia was sitting there also, holding a faded looking baby I asked her why she was sitting up ? She did not go to bed on Wednesday night, be- fore the mail arrived, and then she awoke her hus' band, and there were passengers to 'tend to." A NIGHT AT -WINGDAIL 303 " Did slie.not get tired, sometimes ?" " A little, but Abner," (the Barbarian's Christian name,) "had promised to get her more help next spring, if business was good-" " How many boarders had she ?" " She believed about forty came to regular -meals, and there was transient custom, which was as much as she and her husband could 'tend to. But he did a great deal of work." " What work ?" " Oh ! bring- ing in the wood, and looking after the traders' things.'' "How long had she been married?" "About nine years. She had lost a little girl and boy. Three childxen living. He was from Illinois. She from Boston. Had an education, (Boston Female High School — Geometry, Algebra, a little Latin aiid Greek.) Mother and father died. Came to Hhnois alone, to teach school. Saw him — ^yes — a love match, (' Two souls,' etc., etc.) Married and emigrated to Kansas. Thence across the Plains to California. Always on the outskirts of civili2;ation. He liked it." " She might ' sometimes have wished to go home. Would like to, on account of her children. Wpuld like to give them an education. Had taught them a little herself, but couldn't do much on account of other wofk. Hoped that the boy would be like his father — strong and hearty. Was fearful the girl would be more like her. Had often thought she was not fit for a pioneer's wife." "Why?" " Oh she was not strong enough, and had seen some of his friends' wives in Kansas who could do more 304 A NIGHT AT "WiNGDAM. work. But he never complained — ^he was so kind" — (^« Two souls," etc.) Sitting tliere with lier head leaning pensively on one hand, holding the poor, wearied and limp-looking" baby wearily on the other arm — dirty, drabbled and forlorn, with the firelight playing upon her features no longer fi'esh or young, but still refined and delicate, and even in her grotesque slovenliness, still bearing^a faint reminiscence of birth and breeding, it was not to be wondered that I did not fall info excessive rap- tures over the barbarian's kindness. Emboldened by my sympathy, she told me how she had given up,- little by little, what she imagined to be the weakness of her early education, until she found that she ac- quired but little strength in her new experience. How, translated to a backwoods society, she was hated by the women and called proud and "fine," and how her dear husband lost popularity on that account with his fellows. How, led partly by his roving instincts, and partly from other circumstances, he started with her to California^ An account of that tedious journey. How it was a dreary, dreary waste in her memory, only a blank plain marked by a little cairn of stones- — a child's grave. How she had noticed that little Willie failed. How she had called Abner's attention to it, but, man like, he knew nothitig about children, and pooh-poohed it, and was worriied by the stock. How it happened that after they had passed Sweetwater, she was walking beside the wagon one night, and looking . at the western sky, and she heard a little voice say " mother." How she looked into the wagon and sa-s? A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. 305 that little Willie was sleeping comfortably and did not ■wisli to waike him. How that in ,a few moments more she heard the same voice saying "mother." How she came back to the wagon and leaned down over him, and felt his breath upon her face, and again covered him np tenderly, and once more resumed her weaiy journey beside him, praying to God for his recovery. How with her face turned to the sky she heard the same voice saying "mother," and directly a great bright star shot away from its brethren and expired. And how s.he knew what had happened, and ran to the wagon again only to pillow a little pinched and cold white face upon her weary bosom. The thin, red hands went up to her eyes here, and for a few mo- ments she sat stilL The wind tore round the house and made a frantic rush at the front door, and from his coach of skins in the inner room — ^Ingomar, the barbarian, snored peacefally. Of course she always found a protector from insult and outrage in the great courage and strength of her husband ? Oh yes ; when Ingoniar was with her she feared nothing. But she was nervous and had been fright- ened once ! How? They had just arrived in California. They kept house then, and had to sell liquor to traders. Ingo- mar was hospitable, and drank with everybody, for the sake of popularity and business, and Ingomar got to like liquor, and was easily affected by it. And how one night there was a boisterous crowd 'in the 306 A NIGHT AT WrNGDAM, bar-room ; slie went in and tried to get him away, but only succeeded in awakening the coarse gallantry of the half crazed revelers. And how, when she had at last got him in the room with her frightened children, he sank down on the bed in a stupor, which made her think the liquor was drugged. And how she sat beside him all night, and near morning heard a step in the passage, and looking toward the door, saw the latch slowly moving up and down, as if somebody were trying it And how she shook her husband, and tried to waken him, but without effect. And how at last the door yielded slowly at the top, (it was bolted below,) as if by a gradual pressure without ; and how a hand protruded through the opening. And how as quick as lightning she nailed that hand to the wall with her scissors, (her only weapon,) but the point broke, and somebody got away with a fear- ful oath. How she never told her husband of it, for fear he would kill that somebody ; but how on one day a stranger called here, and as she was handing him his coffee, she saw a queer triangular scar on the back of his hand. She was still talking, and the wind was still blow- ing, and Ingomar was still snoring from his couch of skins, when there was a shout high up the straggling street, and a clattering of hoofs, and rattling of wheels. The mail had arrived. Parthenia ran with the faded baby to awaken Ingomar, and almost simultaneously the gallant expressman stood again before me address- ing me by my Christian name, and inviting me to drink out of a mysterious black bottle. The horses A NIGHT AT WINGDAM. 307 were speedily -watered, and the business of tlie gal- lant expressman cpncluded, and bidding; Parthenia good-bye, I got on tbe stage, and immediately fell asleep, and dreamt of calling on Parthenia and Ingo- mar, and being treated with pie to an unlimited ex- tent untU I woke up the next morning in Sacra- mento. I have some doubts as to whether all this was not a dyspeptic dream, but I never witness the drama, and hear that noble sentiment concerning "Two souls," etc., without thinking of Wingdam and poor Parthenia. "THE EKl). ^. 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