CONQUEST 
 
 ND SELF-CONQUEST 
 
 WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " WOMAN AX ENIGMA," ETC. 
 
 lie that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls.' 1 
 
 Proverbs, xxr. 28. 
 
 " And on reason build resolve, 
 That column of true majesty in man." YOUXG. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BRUCE AND WYLD, 84, FARRINGDON STREET. 
 
 SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1844.
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 . 
 
 OB. 
 
 WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 
 
 And first the la-Jglrnj; schn.i'.bor, 
 
 With bis Sc.tchel uuJ shining miirning face. 
 
 SllAKSi'EAUK. 
 
 " WELL, Frederic, are you ready ?" 
 "Yes, papa; are you going with me?" 
 " Certainly, my son. I will not leave you to 
 make your first 'entrance into a public school 
 alone." 
 
 " And how long will you stay, papa ?" 
 " Just long enough to introduce you to your 
 teacher, and give him a list of your accomplish- 
 ments. By-the by" and Ihe speaker proceeded 
 more lightly as he saw a tear twinkling in the 
 eye of a lady who, having risen from the break- 
 fast-table to' prepare Frederic's satchel of hooks, 
 now stood beside him "by-the-by, I should 
 have obtained the list from your mother. What 
 can he do, Mary ?" 
 
 The lady saw his kind intention, and repaid 
 jt with a smile as she replied, " What he can do 
 with books Mr. ilulbert has already told you; 
 as for his other accomplishments, I can only 
 give you his own report. He boasts that he can 
 send an arrow, a quoit, or a football farther than 
 any one with whom he has played; and for a 
 run and a jump, no one has yet come near him." 
 '' Well, we can test his powers in the last at 
 once. Down with your satchel, sir, and let us 
 see you run and jump from that piazza. Here 
 T^ give me the satchel. Now, one two three, 
 and away !" 
 
 Frederic, with a laughing face and a heart 
 from which all thought of school was banished, 
 obeyed his father's merry mandate, and did his 
 best. lie would have felt no little mortification 
 could he have seen how little observation was 
 given to his achievement. He had no sooner 
 looked away than Colonel Stanley drew his 
 
 wife within the breakfast parlour they had just 
 left, saying, as he did so, " Now, Mary, no leave- 
 taking. Our boy must not show himself at 
 school with red eyes and a swollen face. Re- 
 member, he will return in a few hours." He 
 turned, and was standing on the piazza as Fre- 
 deric looked back to claim due honour for his 
 agility. " Pretty well," he replied to the api 
 pealing look ; " but now stand aside, you brag- 
 gadocio, and see what can be done with a ruu 
 and a jump." 
 
 He threw the satchel he was holding into 
 the yard, and the next minute had alighted far 
 beyond Frederic's mark. 
 
 " There, sir, mark that, and catch it if you 
 can, when you come back this evening. Now 
 you must pick up your satchel and walk briskly, 
 cr you will be too late." Frederic obeyed, and 
 by this manoeuvre all the sadness of a first de- 
 parture from home to enter that mimic world 
 a school was avoided. 
 
 Colonel Stanley had lately returned home from 
 one of our distant frontier military stations, 
 where he had been five weary years, separated 
 from wife and children. Gladly would Mrs. 
 Stanley have accompanied him, but this could 
 not be ; for when he was ordered away, her 
 own health was delicate, her youngest child a 
 feeble infant of only a few weeks old, and it was 
 the very depth of an unusually severe winter. 
 They parted, however, with the expectation 
 that a few months would be the limit of their 
 absence from each other. Summer would then 
 have come, the travelling would be easy, Mrs. 
 Stanley's strength would be restored, and her 
 infant able to bear some exposure and fatigue. 
 But, before summer came, Colonel Stanley had 
 sadly but firmly decided that a frontier mil;-, 
 tary station was no place in which to form the 
 minds and manners of his children. It would, 
 be " an o'er long tale" to iccount all the reasons 
 which led to this conclusion ; but it was formed 
 on no slight grounds and no. sooner .formed 
 
 2037100
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST : 
 
 than communicated, with all those reasons, to 
 his sorrowing wife. Mrs. Stanley grieved at 
 this prolonged separation from her husband, for 
 she was an affectionate wife ; but she submitted 
 to the judgment of him whom she reverenced 
 as wall as loved. She had ever been a tender 
 and attentive mother, but she now devoted her- 
 self to her children with new ardour, for she 
 felt as if they were a sacred deposite, intrusted 
 to her care by their absent father, and the 
 desire to approve herself worthy of his con- 
 fidence mingled with a mother's earnest ten- 
 derness and anxious feelings of responsibility. 
 The best public instruction might have been ob- 
 tained in the town of H., in which she resided; 
 yet, fearing that her son would be exposed at a 
 public school to the contaminating influence of 
 evil companionship, she preferred securing for 
 him the daily attendance of a good tutor at her 
 own house. 
 
 Frederic, who was only seven years old when 
 his father left home, had been now for more 
 than four years receiving lessons from a very 
 able and judicious teacher, and few boys of his 
 age could be found who had learned so much 
 and so thoroughly. This Colonel Stanley ac- 
 knowledged ; yet, while doing so, and fully ap- 
 preciating the excellence of his wife's motives 
 in choosing a home education for their son, he 
 did not quite agree with her in relation to its 
 desirableness. 
 
 " True," he said, " my dear Mary, our boy's 
 mind may thus be kept free from much evil, 
 but this evil he must one day encounter ; is this 
 the education which will best fit him for with- 
 standing its influence ? Will not the temptations 
 and trials of the school be a better preparation 
 for the temptations and trials of the world ?" 
 
 Mrs. Stanley yielded to her husband's wishes, 
 if she was not quite convinced by his arguments, 
 and it was decided that Frederic should attend 
 a day-school in H., kept by Dr. "Wilby, a clergy- 
 man of high character and great attainments, 
 whose health had obliged him to relinquish the 
 duties of a pastor. This arrangement was, on 
 Colonel Stanley's part, a compromise between 
 his own opinions and his wife's feelings. He 
 would have preferred sending his son to a dis- 
 tance from home, where, being no longer able to 
 appeal to the judgment of his parents, he might 
 acquire self-reliance and decision. But Mrs. 
 Stanley, though she would not oppose her hus- 
 band's wishes, could not readily consent to this 
 arrangement. 
 
 <; If our boy," she said, " must be exposed to 
 temptation, at least let him meet it fortified by 
 the influences of home. Let him go forth each 
 day shielded with a mother's prayers, and let 
 him have the. remembrance that at evening 
 hour he is to meet a father's searching eye, to 
 stimulate him in keeping himself blameless." 
 
 And BO Frederic went forth, as we have seen, 
 fp a dajvgchoql, 
 
 Frederic'* constant esswrietjou wjth his mo. 
 
 ther and sister had given unusual gentleness to 
 his manners, and this, it may be, had made 
 Colonel Stanley more urgent in his desire to 
 send him into rougher society. Such gentleness 
 seemed too much akin to timidity to be alto- 
 gether pleasing to one whose education and 
 habits of life, as a military man, had tended to 
 give to personal courage a great, perhaps an un- ^ 
 due importance in the estimate of character. 
 Yet none could look on Frederic Stanley's 
 bright, bold brow could mark how his cheek 
 flushed and his eye sparkled at the narration of 
 a deed of daring, without feeling that his was 
 no fearful spirit. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SCHOOL. 
 
 Youth at the prow and passion at the helm. 
 GRAV. 
 
 Frederic kept pace with his father, though it 
 required no slight fxertion on his part to do so, 
 till they were within a hundred yards of the 
 school-house. He then checked himself, and 
 said, " Stay, father, let me catch my breath. I 
 shall wan' it, you know, to answer Dr. Wilby's 
 questions." 
 
 Colonel Stanley walked more slowly. Look- 
 ing at Frederic, he found his eyes were fixed 
 intently, and with a grave expression, on the 
 building which they were approaching. " Well, 
 Fred, how do you like it :" said he playfully. 
 
 " Not much, father. It has a very solemn 
 look about it, and makes me feel afraid " 
 
 Had Colonel Stanley allowed Frederic to con- 
 clude his sentence, and thus learned of what he 
 felt afraid, he would not, perhaps, have looked 
 quite so sternly as he replied, " Afraid ! That is a 
 word, sir, I desire never to hear from you again, 
 as it is a feeling which I hope you will never 
 indulge." 
 
 Frederic looked wonderingly in his father's 
 face, but he had no time to ask any questions, 
 as they were already at the door, which bore, 
 engraved en a large brass plate, " Dr. Wilby's 
 select school for young gentlemen." 
 
 The doctor was in his place, though but few 
 of his scholars were yet collected. He received 
 Frederic very graciously, and his countenance 
 wore such an expression of benevolence, that, 
 had the fears which Colonel Stanley so sternly 
 rebuked borne reference to him, Frederic could 
 not long have retained them. Colonel Stanley 
 remained, according to his promise, till Dr. 
 Wilby had so far acquainted himself with Frede- 
 ric's acquirements as to assign him his place in 
 the school. The classes to which he was at- 
 tached were composed of boys older than him- 
 self, and, as this was remarked by Dr. Wilby in 
 a manner complimentary to him sJ somewhat
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 reproachful to them, it is not surprising that 
 they viewed with no friendly eye one who had 
 thus occasioned them mortification. The dis- 
 pleasure thus excited was evidenced even before 
 they left Dr. Wilby's presence, by their enjoy- 
 ment of any blunder into which Frederic's ig- 
 norance of the manners and customs of a school 
 betrayed him. These blunders were the result 
 of Frederic's home education, in which he had 
 felt himself the object of his teacher's undivided 
 attention. Mr. Hulbert had always invited his 
 observations on his lessons, and it was therefore 
 with a perfect unconsciousness that he was 
 doing anything singular, that Frederic, while 
 studying his Latin lesson, turned to say, " Dr. 
 Wilby, these Gauls, of whom Caesar speaks, are 
 they the same with the people afterward con- 
 quered by the Franks, and from whom the 
 French are sometimes called Gauls at this day ?" 
 
 " The same, sir. But, Master Stanley, you 
 must attend to one thing at a time : your Latin, 
 for the present; history we will take" at another 
 time." 
 
 Dr. Wilby said this with a quiet smile, which 
 the sneering boys considered a sufficient warrant 
 for their loud and taunting laugh. A quick rap 
 of Dr. Wilby's rule on the table before him re- 
 stored silence. " I know not at what you are 
 laughing, young gentlemen. Master Stanley's 
 question showed a degree of intelligence and 
 thought which I fear I should vainly expect 
 from any other of his class. I hope 'you will 
 remember the information it conveyed." Poor 
 Frederic ! He had again unwittingly mortified 
 his classmates, and, consequently, still farther 
 provoked their resentment. 
 
 The class in which Frederic had been placed 
 consisted of three boys besides himself. Arthur 
 Macon, the eldest of these boys, was almost 
 fourteen. Arthur's father died in his infancy, 
 and, as he was an only child, his mother had 
 lavished on him all her tenderness. She had 
 riches, and every luxury which they could com- 
 mand was showered upon her boy. How differ- 
 ently had Mrs. Stanley an equally devoted 
 mother evinced her desire for her "children's 
 happiness. She had tried to interest them in 
 rational pursuits, to teach them to think and 
 feel cheerfully, to be contented even though 
 some of their wishes remained ungratified. Mrs. 
 Macon, on the contrary, by striving to anticipate 
 Arthur's wishes, by aiming ever to bestow on 
 him new gratification, had taught him that 
 restless craving for something not yet possessed, 
 which could not fail to produce a fretful and 
 dissatisfied temper. Differently educated, Ar- 
 thur Macon's would have been a noble charac- 
 ter, for he was affectionate and not ungenerous in 
 his nature ; but we cannot wonder that the at- 
 tention paid to his lightest wish at home, and 
 the flattery won from the selfish and base-minded 
 among his companions abroad, by those indul- 
 gences which his very liberal supply of pocket- 
 money enabled him to bestow on his favourites, 
 
 should have made him vain and selfish, haughty 
 and arrogant a perfect contrast to the frank, 
 generous, joyous, and unpretending Frederic 
 Stanley. Their characters were not more dis- 
 similar than were Frederic's light brown curls, 
 laughing blue eye, and skin of pearly he said 
 of girlish whiteness to Arthur's black hair and 
 eyes, and swarthy complexion. Arthur did not 
 want talent, but he had never needed to exert it, 
 for he had found no difficulty hitherto in keeping 
 at the head of his class, and he had no higher 
 ambition. 
 
 When the class was called up for recitation, 
 Arthur Macon held his usual place at its head, 
 and Frederic Stanley was, of course, as a new- 
 comer, placed at its foot. Their lesson, as Fre- 
 deric's question about the Franks has probably 
 already betrayed, was the translation of a part 
 of Caesar's Commentaries. Arthur, having con- 
 structed a sentence with tolerable accuracy, 
 commenced its translation. Dr. Wilby's atten- 
 tion was withdrawn from him for a moment by 
 an application from another pupil for some in- 
 formation, and an egregious mistake passed 
 without correction. Frederic, whose whole 
 soul was intent upon the lesson, listened with 
 surprise, wondered at Dr. Wilby's silence, and at 
 last asked himself, " Can I be in error ?" He 
 would not interrupt the other boys by a ques- 
 tion, but when it was his turn to be attended 
 to, instead of beginning with his own sentence, 
 he said, " Dr. Wilby, Arthur Macon said" re- 
 peating Arthur's false translation " is this 
 right ?" 
 
 Dr. Wilby looked at Arthur. " Did you say 
 so, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 He turned to Frederic : " No, sir, it is not 
 right : now can you tell me what it should be ?" 
 Frederic gave his translation. " Right, sir 
 go up." 
 
 " Oh no, sir !" said Frederic, earnestly, " I do 
 not want his place ; I only wanted to know if 
 that was right." 
 
 " Go up, sir," said Dr. Wilby authoritatively, 
 and Frederic reluctantly walked up. 
 
 Arthur Macon's face flushed, and he bit his 
 lip with anger, for he felt himself disgraced, 
 and nothing could have made him believe that 
 this had not been Frederic's motive for calling 
 Dr. Wilby's attention to what, but for his ques- 
 tion, would have passed unnoticed. 
 
 It was the custom of this school for the 
 pupils to have an intermission of half an hour 
 at twelve o'clock, after which they resumed 
 their studies, and continued in school till half- 
 past three, when they were dismissed for the 
 day. On this day, Dr. Wilby proclaimed the 
 intermission at the usual hour, and, charging 
 the boys to be punctual in returning at half- 
 past twelve, left the room. Arthur Macon fol- 
 lowed him to the door, and stood there in a 
 listening attitude till the sound of his footsteps 
 had died away ; then walking up to Frederic, he
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 exclaimed fiercely, " Now, sir, that your protector 
 is gone, what did you mean by insulting me 
 to-day ?" Frederic looked amazed. " I say, sir, 
 what did you mean?" demanded Arthur, with 
 increasing passion. 
 
 ' \Vhy, Macon," said Frederic, " you are 
 crazy, man. I have done nothing to you." 
 " Done nothing to me ! It was nothing, was 
 it, to make Dr. Wilby reprimand the whole 
 class before visitors ! It was nothing to watch 
 my words, arid the very first mistake I made, 
 instead of saying something at the time which 
 would have called my attention to it, and made 
 me correct what any fool might have seen was 
 a blunder, to wait till it was too late for that, 
 and then make Dr. Wilby notice it, that you 
 might get my place. You shall not keep it, sir 
 I tell you that." 
 
 " I did not wish to take your place, as you 
 call it, though I do not see why it belongs to 
 you any more than to any other boy who can 
 get it. It is mine for the present, and, in spite 
 of your threat, I shall keep it, if I can." 
 
 " You will, will you ?" said Arthur, almost 
 choked with rage ; " yon set yourself up to be 
 my equal, do you ? Well, sir, if you will go to 
 tht: green behind the church after school, I will 
 see if I can't beat you at something. Will you 
 go, sir ? Have you spirit enough to fight for 
 your place?" 
 
 ' Why, really, Arthur Macon, I do not very 
 well see what fighting has to do with my place 
 in a Latin class." 
 
 " Oh, you don't you don't see what fighting 
 has to do with your place in a Latin class' and 
 the enraged boy made a vain effort to imitate 
 Frederic's calm tones. " I thought so I thought 
 you were a coward. Cowardice and meanness 
 always go together." 
 
 It is probable that, had all the boys been 
 present, Frederic would have found some just 
 and brave enough to take his part even against 
 Arthur Macon ; but before the scene we have been 
 narrating had commenced, all were gone except 
 a few of Arthur's most cringing flaiterers, who 
 were, of course, his prime favourites. These 
 uotv repeated the word coward, with every 
 taunting expression and action which their 
 various fancies could devise. Frederic tried to 
 remember his mother's counsels against quarrel- 
 ling, but his very temples were crimson, his 
 eyes flashed, his heart swelled, and he feared to 
 open his lips lest the torrent of passion which 
 he still struggled to control should burst forth. 
 At this moment of fearful strife with his own 
 nature, one boy, who, more timid than the rest, 
 had hitherto kept at the outer edge of the circle 
 and said nothing, gathering strength from what 
 he thought to be Frederic's weakness, called 
 out, " I could have told you he was a coward 
 before ; for I was walking behind him when he 
 was coming to school this morning; and I heard 
 his father scold him for being afraid." 
 
 And Frederic could not deny it. He remem- 
 
 bered it well. He had not understood his 
 father then, but he understood him now. His 
 lather, too, thought him a coward. All self- 
 command, all endeavour after it, was over: he 
 would fight Arthur Macon he would light 
 them all he would fight the whole world. 
 They might beat him kill him, but his father, 
 his own brave father, should never think him a 
 coward again. How Frederic announced his 
 determination in what language he gave vent 
 to his excited feelings, he could not afterward 
 remember ; but the words came in such torrents, 
 that from the moment he began to speak all 
 others were still, and before the half hour's in- 
 termission had expired, all the preliminaries had 
 been agreed upon for a battle between Arthur 
 ai.d Frederic, which was to take place immedi- 
 ately after school, on the usual fighting-ground 
 the green behind the church. 
 
 How Frederic got through his tas!<s in the 
 afternoon we know not, but we fear that he 
 scarcely held so high a place in Dr. Wilby 's es- 
 timation at half-past three as he had done at 
 twelve o'clock. 
 
 As soon as the school was dismissed Arthur 
 stepped up to him. " Are you ready, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes," was the prompt reply ; and, accom- 
 panied by almost all the school, they set off for 
 the place of meeting. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIRST FIGHT. 
 
 Alns! the brpast that inly LW<!s 
 
 Hath nuUgut lo (Jreavl irum uuuvaril Moi 
 
 That quiet green looked little like a fighting- 
 ground. It had been originally intended ior a 
 graveyard, and, when the church was built, had 
 been surrounded with a high brick ur.il, around 
 the innersideof which the elm-tree aiid ;he weep- 
 ing willow had been planted. It was scarcely com- 
 pleted before one of the elders of that congre- 
 gation to which the church belonged had been 
 laid to sleep under its sod. Very shortly alter 
 his death, a law had been passed prohibiting 
 burials within the limits of the town ot' II., and 
 thenceforth the green sod was never broken by 
 the spade of the sexton. The body which had 
 already been buried there was not, however, re- 
 niovcd,and the white marble tablet which marked 
 its place of rest remained the only memorial of 
 the first designation of the ground, which now 
 daily echoed to the voice of boyish glee and 
 frolic, or, as on the present occasion, to the less 
 pleasing sound of boyish passion. 
 
 Do you wonder that they should give the 
 rein to passion within sight of the church and the 
 grave? Do we not all thus? Are there not 
 churches all around us, with their high steeple?
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 pointing up to heaven, reminding us of the God 
 that dwells there, and whose commands are 
 weekly taught us from their pulpits ? Is not 
 the grave ever opening at our feet ? And yet, 
 do these restrain us from wrong-doing? No; 
 our restraints must come from within our own 
 hearts from such an earnest love of God that 
 we shall need no church, no grave to remind us 
 of His presence, or of how soon we may be 
 called to give an account to him of our actions. 
 If we are led at church to pray to him earnestly 
 for this love if we are taught in what way we 
 may attain it, the church has done for us all it 
 can do. But we must not forget our two heroes. 
 There they stand, not far from the elder's 
 grave, their coats and vests off, their heads 
 bound with handkerchiefs, waiting the signal 
 which is to bid them rush upon each other. 
 Their companions circle them round, eager to 
 see the fight. To Frederic all is new. Herein 
 his home education has been greatly defective 
 he has never even seen a light. He knows 
 nothing of boxing, little of wrtstlinjr. The 
 boys around have almost begun to pity him, as 
 they have discovered how utterly ignorant he 
 is of all connected with a fight, and have 
 remembered that Arthur Macon two years 
 older, and full a head taller than himself 
 was thought the strongest boy in school, and 
 had taken lessons of a boxing-master. They 
 had, in consequence, given Frederic some kindly- 
 meant hints. JJy their advice he had stripped 
 off his coat and vest, and bound up his head. 
 One of them, more generous than the rest, had 
 even been willing to sacrifice the pleasure of 
 seeing a fight, and had whispered to Frederic 
 that, if he were in his place, he would tell 
 Arthur he was sorry. " The worst he could do, 
 then," he added, " would be to call you a 
 coward, and that is better than being beaten. 
 Hard words break no bones, but hard falls 
 sometimes do." 
 
 And did Frederic take this advice ? From 
 the time he entered the churchyard and the 
 preparations began, he had been deadly pale, 
 yet he looked steadily on, and obeyed all the 
 directions given him. His hand did not tremble, 
 nor his eye wink. One thought was in his 
 heart : " I will prove to my father that I am 
 no coward." When his kind adviser would 
 have had him avoid the encounter, he scarcely 
 heard him till the word " coward" fell on his 
 ear. He started then, and the blood rushed to 
 his face, but it was only for an instant, and 
 again he was pale and still. Frederic had been 
 angry with Arthur, very angry, but this had 
 passed away : he thought of him now but as 
 the one through v;hom he was to prove his 
 courage. He did not wish to hurt him ; he did 
 not think much of what he was to do himself; his 
 heart was full of what he was -to bear of his 
 resolution to endnre anything, everything, to 
 make his father feel that he was not a coward. 
 Had Colonel Stanley always lived at home- 
 
 had Frederic been accustomed to receive reproof 
 from him it is not probable that anything he 
 could have said would have awakened so deep 
 and powerful a feeling. But, as we have already 
 said, he had just returned after five years' 
 absence, during which Mrs. Stanley had ever 
 presented to her hoy's miud his father as the 
 object of his deepest reverence his father's dis- 
 pleasure as his most grievous punishment his 
 father's approbation as his noblest reward. His 
 father was a soldier, an approved soldier and to 
 be brave like him had been the summit of poor 
 Frederic's boyish ambition ; and now, is it won- 
 derful that the thought, " my father believes 
 me a coward," should have had such power 
 over him ? 
 
 At length the signal was given, and the boys 
 advanced Arthur with a quick, Frederic with 
 a composed step. He scarcely made an effort 
 to ward off the blows which were showered upon 
 him, and it was not till he had felt them that 
 he attempted to inflict any on Arthur. Then, 
 with a natural instinct, he would have given 
 blow for blow ; but, though he made the attempt 
 with hearty good will, it was so unskilfully 
 done that scarce a blow found its mark. Such 
 a contest could not last long, and it was accord- 
 ingly but a brief minute before Frederic lay on the 
 ground, blinded, stunned, while the triumphant 
 Arthur stood over him, exclaiming, " Have you 
 had enough ? Will you acknowledge that you're 
 a coward now ?" 
 
 " Never !" firmly responded Frederic, as he 
 rose and prepared again for the struggle. He 
 had learned something from the past : he was 
 more on the alert now he avoided some blows 
 and succeeded in giving some ; but he was yet 
 no match for Arthur, who had scarcely received a 
 bruise when Frederic again lay at his feet, and 
 this time bleeding from the nose and mouth. 
 Some of the larger boys now stepped forward, 
 and their sympathy for Frederic thoroughly con- 
 quering their fears of Arthur, said warmly, as 
 they assisted him to rise, " Give it up, Stanley ; 
 you are no match for Arthur Macon, and you have 
 proved that you are no more a coward than he 
 is, let him call you so as much as he will." 
 
 Arthur's better feelings had been aroused by 
 Frederic's firm and manly spirit, and, had this 
 taunt not been uttered, he would, perhaps, have 
 acted generously ; but this reflection on him si- 
 lenced the good in him. He had read Frederic's 
 feelings well, and he knew that what he was 
 about to say would wound him to the quick. 
 " 'Twas not I only that called him coward : his 
 own father called him so, and I am sure he must 
 know him." 
 
 Frederic threw off the restraining arms of his 
 companions, and exclaiming vehemently, " No 
 one shall call me coward," stood again in a pos- 
 ture, of defence. Arthur did not now strike 
 him, but, catching him in his arms, aimed at 
 throwing him. In this Frederic could play his 
 part better. It was not till after many efforts
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 that he was thrown, and then Arthur fell with 
 him, though above him. The struggle had 
 drawn them hither and thither, and it was at 
 last on the elder's gravestone that Frederic fell. 
 He tried to hold Arthur till he could make an 
 effort to rise with him, but one of his arms had 
 fallen under him ; he could not move it, and 
 Arthur, soon escaping the grasp of the other, 
 started to his feet. Frederic too moved as if 
 he would have risen, but Arthur stooped over 
 him, saying, " Not till you say you give it up. I 
 will not call you a coward again." A faint smile 
 passed over Frederic's face, but it was very faint, 
 and as he moved again, a groan burst forth. He 
 turned so pale that Arthur became alarmed, and 
 asked quickly, " What's the matter is it your 
 head?" 
 
 " No my arm it is under me, and I cannot 
 move it." 
 
 The boys had now ail gathered around, and 
 it was with the utmost gentleness that Frederic 
 was raised and the arm withdrawn ; but every 
 movement caused him such agonizing pain that 
 he became sick and faint. " Arthur, I give up 
 now," said he, again trying to smile, " for my 
 arm is broken." 
 
 "Broken!" exclaimed the shocked Arthur ; 
 " oh no, I hope not ;" and he took hold of the 
 arm. 
 
 While this was passing, one of the boys, whose 
 home was very near the church, had hastened 
 there to take his father's advice on what had 
 best be done for Frederic. This gentleman, Mr. 
 Merton, was an acquaintance of Colonel Stanley, 
 and was fortunately at home. He went back 
 with his son, and finding Frederic still making 
 painful efforts to rise, he bade him keep still, 
 arranged a sling for his arm, and, calling in a 
 passing labourer, prepared, with his assistance, 
 to take him home. 
 
 "Home! must I go home so? My poor 
 mother !" said Frederic, mournfully. 
 
 "True, true," said Mr. Merton; "better 
 take him to Dr. Mills's first ; he will make him 
 look somewhat better before his mother sees 
 him." 
 
 " But you will go for my father, sir, won't 
 you won't you please to go for my father at 
 once, before my arm -has anything done to it ?" 
 
 Arthur stood by, penitent and silent, while 
 all the other boys were eager in their offers of 
 assistance. " Arthur," said Frederic, kindly, 
 " you must not feel so badly ; you did not break 
 my arm, you know it was the gravestone that 
 broke it." Tears rushed to Arthur's eyes, but 
 he thought it was not manly to weep, and he 
 twinkled them away. 
 
 " Is there nothing I can do for you, Frederic ?" 
 
 "Yes, Arthur, you can tell my father I am 
 not a coward." 
 
 " I will go with you, Frederic, on purpose to 
 tell him so," said Arthur, losing all fear of Colo- 
 nel Stanley's auger to himself in his newly- 
 awakened feelings for Frederic. And so they 
 
 set off for Dr. Mills's, Frederic carried between 
 Mr. Merton and the labourer whom he had 
 called to his assistance, and Arthur walking by 
 his side. All the boys would have followed", 
 but this was forbidden by Mr. Merton : so they 
 gazed after Frederic as long as he was in 
 sight, and then turned off with sad faces 
 to carry the tale to their various homes. 
 One group of these boys was met by Colo- 
 nel Stanley, who, having observed that Mrs. 
 Stanley looked somewhat anxiously from the 
 windows as the afternoon wore away without 
 Frederic's ^appearance, had walked out, intending 
 to look for'himand send him home. As he passed 
 the boys, one of them said, in a tone quite loud 
 enough to reach bis ear, " That's his father." 
 Believing from this that they were Frederic's 
 school-fellows, he stopped, saying, " Can any of 
 you tell me where Frederic Stanley is, young 
 gentlemen ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, sir," exclaimed every voice, eager 
 to tell the storv ; " they have carried him to Dr. 
 Mills's." 
 
 " Carried him to Dr. Mills's ! for what ? Was 
 anything the matter with him ?" 
 
 " His arm was broken, Mr. Merton said." 
 
 " His arm broken ! How did it happen ?" 
 exclaimed Colonel Stanley; then, before an 
 answer could be given, he was hurrying to Dr. 
 Mills's. The boys followed him, running to keep 
 pace with his hasty strides, while they told him 
 that Frederic had fought with Arthur Macon, 
 and Arthur Macon had thrown him and broken 
 his arm. 
 
 Colonel Stanley was too much agitated to 
 think very collectedly, yet he could not but 
 wonder what could have roused Frederic to a 
 fight. Frederic, whose voice he had never 
 heard since he came home except in an affec- 
 tionate or a merry tone whose clear whistle 
 or ringing laugh made the music of his home 
 who hovered around his mother and sister with 
 -tenderness so like their own, that he had almost 
 feared he would become too gentle. Colonel 
 Stanley walked so rapidly that these thoughts 
 had scarcely more than darted through his 
 hrain when he arrived at Dr. Mills's house. 
 The door was not yet closed through which 
 Frederic and his bearers had passed when lie 
 appeared at it, and he entered the doctor's 
 office without waiting to be announced. 
 There lay Frederic, with his face bruised at:d 
 bloody, and his arm in a sling. His eyes were 
 closed, and his lips pressed firmly together, as 
 if he was determined that no sound should 
 escape them. Dr. Mills stood beside him with 
 a basin of warm water and a sponge. He saw 
 Colonel Stanley before he had uttered a word, 
 and, motioning to him to be still, proceeded 
 tenderly to sponge off the congealed blood from 
 Frederic's face. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Frederic, in a half 
 whisper, without opening his eyes, as this was 
 done.
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 u 
 
 " Now bring the splints and bandages," said 
 Dr. Mills to a young student who had been pre- 
 paring them, "'and we will set the arm at once. 
 It will give you some pain, Frederic, but you 
 must bear it like a man." 
 
 " I should not mind the pain, doctor, if my 
 father could only be here. Can't you wait, sir, 
 till he comes ?" 
 
 Dr. Mills had supposed that Frederic would 
 be agitated at seeing his father, from fear that 
 he would reprove him, and therefore he had 
 kept Colonel Stanley from speaking. Perceiving 
 uow that he had no such fear, he beckoned Colo- 
 nel Stanley to his side, and then said, " Open 
 your eyes," Frederic, and see who is by you." 
 
 Frederic obeyed, and as Colonel Stanley met 
 that thrilling look, he stooped and pressed his 
 lips to his boy's forehead, that he might hide 
 an emotion which men like not to betray. 
 " Arthur where's Arthur ?" asked Frederic, in 
 feeble tones. Arthur, who had withdrawn from 
 the sofa only to give place to the doctor and 
 Colonel Stanley, approached. 
 
 " Now, Arthur, tell papa. But, papa," added 
 the generous boy, as he saw the stern look with 
 which Arthur was regarded, " it was not Arthur's 
 fault that I broke my arm." Arthur's right 
 feelings were all aroused, and he replied : 
 
 " But it was my fault that we fought at all, or 
 quarrelled at all, Frederic. Frederic would not 
 iiave fought, sir, if he could have helped it ; 
 and yet, sir, Frederic is not a coward." 
 
 " A coward ! And pray, sir, who thought 
 my son was a coward ?" 
 
 Arthur was somewhat abashed by this recep- 
 tion of his well-meant assurance, and it was 
 with hesitation that he replied, " The boys 
 thought so at first, sir, and and one of them 
 said he heard you scold him when coming to 
 school this morning for being afraid, and I 
 believe it was this that made Frederic fight." 
 
 A pang darted through Colonel Stanley's 
 heart as he exclaimed, " My poor boy ! And 
 did a hasty word of mine cause you all this 
 suffering ?" 
 
 Frederic had been watching his father's face 
 during Arthur's communication. He now said 
 with eagerness, " Then, papa, you don't think 
 me a coward ?" 
 
 " No, my dear boy. I do not think that you 
 very well understand what true courage is, and 
 when you are quite well again we will talk about 
 it ; but I am sure that you are no coward, and 
 I have no doubt jrou wiU prove that you are not 
 tby the manner in which you will bear the ope- 
 ration of setting your arm." 
 
 " I will not mind it at all now, papa, if you 
 iwill stay by me," and, in spite of pain, Frederic's 
 .countenance was beaming with exultation as he 
 spoke. " But, Arthur," he added, " you had 
 .better not stay ; it will make you feel badly. 
 Only tell the boys, Arthur, what my father says." 
 
 Arthur gladly availed himself of this permis- 
 sion to depart, and Dr, Mills, who had been 
 
 waiting for the termination of this scene that 
 his patient might be quiet, immediately had 
 Frederic placed on a mattress, on which he 
 might be removed at any time to his father's 
 house without any disturbance of the fractured 
 arm. 
 
 " Put your hand on me, papa let me feel 
 that you are by me," said Frederic, again closing 
 his eyes when this was accomplished. Colonel 
 Stanley seated himself on the mattress, and 
 laid his hand on Frederic's head. " Now, doctor, 
 I am ready," said Frederic, in a steady voice, 
 and the operation commenced. It was very 
 painful, for the arm had been broken in two 
 places, and the doctor feared that a little boy 
 like Frederic would hardly be able to bear it 
 without crying or struggling ; but he was mis- 
 taken. Frederic was very pale : so pale, that 
 Dr. Mills thought more than once that he 
 would faint; but he made no movement 
 uttered no sound. There was one groan, but it 
 came from Colonel Stanley as he heard the 
 bones grit in his son's arm. As the doctor se- 
 cured the last bandage, he said, " Frederic, you 
 have borne it bravely like a hero ; more bravely 
 than your father; he has been the coward this 
 time, Fred." 
 
 How deeply was the father's heart touched, 
 as, unclosing his eyes, Frederic murmured in 
 feeble tones, " Did I stand it well, papa ?" 
 
 " Nobly, my boy," was the proud reply, as 
 Colonel Stanley bowed his head again to conceal 
 his glistening eyes. 
 
 " Now, then, tell mamma, poor mamma." 
 Colonel Stanley found his wife already so 
 anxious about Frederic that a broken arm was 
 a relief to the much worse evils she had antici- 
 pated, and in telling his story, he so skilfully 
 mingled praises of Frederic with the account of 
 misfortunes, that the mother wept almost as 
 much from pride in her son's noble conduct, and 
 joy at his father's admiration of it, as from sor- 
 row at his sufferings. 
 
 But even while she wept, Mrs. Stanley made 
 all the preparations necessary for her boy's 
 comfort, and when he was brought in on the 
 mattress, attended by Dr. Mills himself, she was 
 ready to receive him with a composed and even 
 cheerful manner. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TRUE COURAGE. 
 
 I dare do all which may become a man : 
 Who dares do moie is none. SHAKSPKAKF. 
 
 Frederic recovered rapidly from his bruises, 
 yet it was more than three weeks before Dr. 
 Mills considered it proper for him to walk about 
 again. While he was thus confined to one 
 room, he was not, however, alone. Besides the
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 company of his mother and sister, one of whom 
 was almost always with him, he had visits from 
 several of his school-fellows from none so fre- 
 quently as from Arthur Macon ; and his father, 
 when in the house, passed much of his time at 
 his bedside. As he was sitting there one morn- 
 ing, Frederic said, " Papa, you told me at Dr. 
 Mills's, the day my arm was broken, that you 
 did not think I knew what true courage was, 
 and that wheii I got well yon would talk to me 
 about it. Can you not tell me now what it is ?" 
 
 ' Yes, my son ; but, before I tell you what it 
 is, I should like to hear what you think it is ?" 
 
 " What I think it is ?" repeated Frederic ; 
 " why, it is it is stay, let me consider ;" and 
 Frederic paused for a moment, while his father 
 looked smilingly but silently in his face. " Well, 
 papa, I think true courage is when a man is not 
 afraid of any person, nor of ever so many people, 
 but will fight them all, just as you were not 
 afraid when you met all those Indians, with 
 such a very few men on your side ; and when 
 your men would have tried to get off, you made 
 them stay and fight till the Indians themselves 
 were glad to run away. I think that was true 
 courage. 
 
 " And is that all, Frederic ?" asked Colonel 
 Stanley, still smilingly. 
 
 " Why, papa. I don't know anything else ; for 
 if a person is not afraid of any man, or of a whole 
 army of men. he certainly will not be afraid of 
 anything else : he will not be afraid of horses or 
 dogs, or of lions or tigers even." 
 
 Colonel Stanley laughed as he replied, " lam 
 not so sure of that, Fred. I should much 
 rather meet even an army of Indians than a hand 
 of lions and tigers. But, to he serious, have you 
 ever thought, Frederic, that there were things 
 of which men were more afraid than of any 
 bodily pain more afraid even than of death ?"" 
 
 Frederic fixed his eyes earnestly on his father 
 as he answered, " No, papa, I "did not know 
 there were." 
 
 " Have you ever heard, my son, of two men 
 going out together to fight what is called a duel 
 that is, to stand up and shoot at each other ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " And you have probably thought them very 
 courageous to stand up and be shot at, have YOU 
 not ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And yet, my dear boy, in nine cases out of 
 ten it was nothing but. fear that kept them steady 
 fear of being ridiculed of being thought cow- 
 ardly; and this fear this real cowardice 
 when all their anger, perhaps, had passed away, 
 made them do what they would have given 
 worlds to avoid." Colonel Stanley paused. 
 Frederic was deeply interested. 
 
 He had not removed his eyes from his father's 
 face while he was speaking, and he now impa- 
 tiently asked, " Well, papa^vhat is tn;e courage ? 
 Who is courageous, if people that fight are not ?" 
 
 " He that is truly courageous, my son, fears 
 but two beings in the universe." 
 
 "Two, papa!" exclaimed Frederic, in sur- 
 prise; "I thought the man of true courage 
 feared only one only God." 
 
 " God and himself, my son." 
 
 "Himself!" ejaculated Frederic. 
 
 " Yes, Frederic, he fears lest his own rash 
 passions or mistaken views may lead him into 
 wrong-doing ; hut, once assured that he is right, 
 lie cares not for one man or for many men. 
 lie cares not for their threats or blows,' as you 
 have said ; but neither does he care for their 
 ridicule or contempt, dice certain that his 
 course is right, he will not step from it for all 
 that they can say or do. Now, Frederic, do you 
 not see that true courage may be shown' in 
 other things besides fighting nay, that some- 
 times he who will not fight shows more courage 
 than he who does ':" 
 
 " Yes, papa; and I am thinking" Frederic 
 paused. 
 
 " Thinking what, my son ?" 
 
 " That, after all, I would have shown more 
 courage in not fighting Arthur Macon than in 
 fighting him." 
 
 " I see you understand me, Frederic, for that 
 is a good illustration of what I mean. In not 
 fighting Arthur Macon, because you felt it would 
 be wrong to do so; in being willing to endure 
 ridicule and contempt from the boys, and even 
 to be misjudged, as you feared you "would be by 
 me, rather than do wrong, you would have 
 shown a much higher degree of courage than 
 in fighting him. Yet I do not blame you," 
 Colonel Stanley added, as he saw Frederic" look 
 down abashed, " for it was a degree of courage 
 scarcely to be expected from a little boy who 
 was undergoing his first trial, and who had never 
 thought much on this subject." 
 
 " But when will a man of true courage fight, 
 papa ?" 
 
 " Yl henever, Frederic, he feeis that the right 
 demands it. When he sees a weak person op- 
 pressed or ill treated, he will take his part: 
 when danger threatens his friends or his country, 
 he will be among the foremost to meet and to 
 repel it; and if, in the defence or support of 
 what is right, he is compelled to stand alone 
 against many threatening arms, it will move 
 him as little from his onward course as when. 
 in pursuing the same riijht, he stood alone 
 amid many scoffing tongues and sneering lips." 
 Colonel Stanley spoke \\ith energy. After a short 
 pause he resumed : " I speak to' you, Frederic, 
 with much interest on this subject, for on your 
 possession of this one single quality "true 
 courage depends in a great Degree your success 
 nay, rny son, more than your success, your 
 worth as a man." 
 
 " Why, papa, are cowardly men never good 
 men ?" 
 
 " They may have good feelings, Frederic 
 amiable dispositions ; but feelings dispositions,
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 are little to be depended on, add little to a 
 man's worth, if fear fear of the world's laugh 
 or the world's frown will make him suppress 
 them or act in opposition to them. My beloved 
 boy," here Colonel Stanley drew near the bed, 
 .mid, putting his hand on Frederic's head, looked 
 earnestly, solemnly, iuto his face, "when the 
 time comes for you to go forth into life to act 
 the part of a man your father's duties as a 
 soldier may have called him far away from yon, 
 remember then his words : Thai which you are 
 convinced is right, DO ; that which you are con- 
 vinced is wrong, AVOID, without regard to the 
 frowns or the smiles of any or of all otbers : 
 only so can you prove yourself a brave man 
 only so, Frederic, can you be a free man." 
 
 His father's solemnity awed Frederic's spirit ; 
 and it was in a low, earnest tone that he re- 
 peated, " A freeman, papa ?" 
 
 " Yes, Frederic ; he who rules another through 
 fear, whether that, fear be of his ridicule or of 
 Lis bodily strength, is his master : the man so 
 ruled is a slave. Will yon remember what I 
 liavc said, my son ? Will you promise me to 
 endeavour always to be in tins sense a freeman ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa, I will," said Frederic. 
 
 " Then, Frederic, will you remove a great 
 care from your father's mind; for while you 
 keep this promise, I have no doubt of your doing 
 well, in every sense of the expression." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NEW PRINCIPLES. 
 
 B -in, be bold, and venture to be wise. COWI.FY. 
 
 In the morning of the day on which Frederic 
 reti.rned tr his school, his mother came into 
 hii room quite early, and said, " Frederic, your 
 ; at her has told me of his conversation wiili xou. 
 Yon now understand, my dear boy, what true ecu- 
 rate is. You will, 1 hone, have this true courage, 
 at d never let any fear oi what men may tsy or do 
 oa'.ite XGU to do what would lie displeasing to 
 ()(.d, cr what your own lirart tells xou is not 
 right. But >ou will have many trials, Frederic, 
 Isoih now and when \ou are a man. Then you 
 xv ill probably be far away from your parents, 
 and their teachings mijjht be forgotten ; biit I 
 Jitn going to give you something which, being 
 ;ilv. r.ys about yon, may meet your eye when xou 
 ;::Y. ;cmpuu, and aid xou to resist the temptation, 
 by hnngii.g to XOIT mind the lessons xou have 
 now ric(ixtd." Mrs. Stanley took Fiederic's 
 hand in hers as she spoke, and drawing from 
 her <>v. n li'.iiur a plain gold ring, put it upon cue 
 oi his. 
 
 "Bet, mother, what shall I do when my 
 too large for it ?" asked Frederic. 
 
 It now fits your largest finger: it will pro- 
 Imbly neyet be too small for your smallest ; 
 
 should it become ?o, you must put another in.its 
 place ; but I would' rather you should always 
 be able to wear this very one, Frederic, that 
 when you look at it, yon may say to you^e'.:", 
 my mother placed it there as the seal to my 
 father's instructions, and the token that their 
 blessing was upon me so long as I observed 
 those instructions." 
 
 Frederic's appearance among his school-fel- 
 lows was hailed with great pleasure by them all, 
 and by none more than by Arthur Macon. 
 
 We' said that Arthur had visited Frederic fre- 
 quently during his confinement to the house. 
 In Arthur an affectionate and naturally not un- 
 generous temper had been spoiled by a fond 
 mother's weak indulgence ; but all his good 
 feelings had been touched by Frederic's kind- 
 ness to him his efforts to avoid giving pain to 
 one who had caused him so much suffering. At 
 first Arthur's visits were intended as a sort of 
 repayment of this kindness. He went to amuse 
 Frederic, not to please himself. After a while, 
 however, he became really attached to Frederic ; 
 and though he often differed from him in his 
 opinions, and despaired of ever being so amiable 
 as his friend, he sometimes almost wished he 
 could be. Frederic, on his part, loved Arthur 
 sincerely, adaiired his talents and spirit, and 
 though he could not deny that he had some 
 faults, he always repeated to himself, and some- 
 times to others, that Arthur had not been told 
 of them, and believed, with a boy's sanguine 
 feelings, that he would correct them as soon as 
 he was. 
 
 It was not quite nine o'clock, the school 
 hour, when Frederic again approached Dr. 
 Wilby's door. Two or three boxs weie ton.ii.g 
 ficm en opposite direction, ai.d he Mopped to 
 spetk io them bcH.ve he entcied the ^atc. 
 They also s;.w and quickened il.cir pace. Li c, 
 Artl.ur Macon, *piaiig beioie the rest with ex- 
 tended hand, exclaiming, " lied ! outiigain, ii:\ r 
 boy ? liow glad 1 am to see you. litAv is the 
 aim well as exer :" seizing the lately Iractuitd 
 arm by the elhoxv. 
 
 " Net quite so strong as it v as, Arthur, but 
 Dr. Mills says it soon will be." 
 
 The oilier boxs had now icathed Frederic, 
 and greeted him vith much cordiality and no 
 little noi;e. 
 
 ' Ready for a fight again, Fred !" cried one 
 of them. 
 
 " No," said Arthur ; " before Fred fights again 
 he must ta! e boxing '.(,; c,i;s <iom n.c. 'iiu he- 
 has done that, I x\ill light all his battles." 
 
 " Thank xou, Arthur," taid Frcdciic, lurch- 
 ing; " but J do not nitan to have ;;i,y I;.;; :<:> 
 to lij;ht, ihi.i:vh I will t;.ke the b<,\i: ji-iu^ons 
 from XOM vith j 
 
 " Bi.t v.hi't (.o xi.u v.cnt v.ith boxing-lesions 
 if xou (!o i;oi mean to pght?." 
 
 " V !,y, ihcu'uii i cio nut n.e; n to fj:h;, I .-hi.I 
 not biiik'r in \j oil to be beaten if 1 c;.n h*_ip> ill 
 and, besides,! \vt>uid like to feel nijuijf, and have
 
 14 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 other people feel too, that, if I do not fight, it 
 is not because I cannot." 
 
 " And, pray, what is it for, then ?" asked one 
 of the boys. 
 
 " Because I do not think it right." 
 
 " Because you do not think it right ! Not 
 think it right to fight when you are imposed 
 upon !" exclaimed all the boys together, except 
 Arthur, who remained silent, though he looked 
 as little satisfied as any. 
 
 " I do not mean to be imposed upon," said 
 Frederic, as he looked around him with a 
 smiling, yet spirited countenance. 
 
 " How will you help it, if you don't fight ?" 
 
 "Did I not tell you that I would not be 
 beaten if I could help it ; but I will never be such 
 a coward as to fight again with no better reason 
 than that which made me fight Arthur Macon." 
 
 " Such a coward as to fight ! "What does he 
 mean, Arthur ? I don't understand him." 
 
 " Nor I, very well," replied Arthur. " What 
 do you mean, Stanley ?" 
 
 " Why, Arthur, you know that if I had not been 
 afraid of what the boys would say or what my 
 father would think, I would not have fought you 
 the other day. Now I never mean to be afraid 
 again, as long as I live, so I never mean to fight 
 except for some better reason than I had then 
 some reason that will make me feel myself 
 that I am right." 
 
 The boys looked upon each other in silence 
 for a minute ; then, just as the bell began to 
 sound, one of them said to Arthur, " Do, Macon, 
 tell me what Stanley means, for I don't under- 
 stand him now." 
 
 " Ob," said Arthur, as they walked towards 
 the schoolroom, " he means that he won't fight 
 you, but if you knock him, he'll knock you 
 back." 
 
 Frederic laughed as he said, " That's not it 
 exactly, Merton ; I won't let you knock me, as 
 Arthur calls it, if I have strength to prevent 
 you ; and if I have not, I shall think that, 
 In attacking one weaker than yourself, jou are 
 the coward, and not I." 
 
 Dr. Wilby inquired how Frederic was, and 
 expressed his pleasure at seeing him again in 
 the school. This was the only allusion he made 
 to what had passed till he was about to dismiss 
 the school in the afternoon, when a request 
 that Masters Arthur Macon and Frederic Stanley 
 would remain for a few minutes, led the boys 
 to suppose that some punishment was about to 
 be inflicted on these culprits for their past trans- 
 gression of rules. 
 
 When all the others had passed out and they 
 were left alone, Dr. Wilby spoke very gravely 
 to Frederic and Arthur of the offence which 
 they had committed, assuring them that, under 
 ordinary circumstances, he should have felt it his 
 duty to'mark his displeasure at their conduct in 
 some very serious manner ; as it was, he thought 
 they had been, for this time, sufficiently punished 
 the one in suffering, the other in inflicting so 
 
 much pain ; but he must demand from them a 
 promise that, while attached to his school, 
 they would not be again guilty of such a mis- 
 demeanor. " Do you understand me, Maste 
 Macon ? Will you promise me, sir, that this 
 shall not be repeated ?" 
 
 Arthur's face flushed, and he looked down 
 without speaking. Dr. Wilby looked at him a 
 moment, and then, glancing his eye from him to 
 Frederic Stanley, said, " I do not know how- 
 matters stand now between you two voting 
 gentlemen. Such a promise may seem to imply 
 some concession if you are still at variance. If 
 so, the concession should be demanded first, 
 perhaps, of the youngest." 
 
 " There is no quarrel now, sir, between Ar- 
 thur and me," said Frederic, seeing that Dr. 
 Wilby supposed there was, from Arthur's hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, sir ; it will then be 
 easier for you to make the promise I demand. 
 Do you make it ? I am sure you must yourself 
 feel its propriety." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Frederic, promptly ; " and I 
 will promise never to fight if I can help it." 
 
 " If you can help it ?" repeated Dr. Wilby, 
 inquiringly ; " what do you mean by that, sir ?" 
 
 " I cannot say I never will fight at all, sir," 
 said Frederic, seriously, " because ever, my mo- 
 ther says there are some cases in which it would 
 be right. But I will promise never to fight ex- 
 cept when I am quite sure it is right ; and that 
 is what I mean by if I can help it" 
 
 " Very well, sir," said Dr. Wilby, smiling at 
 Frederic's reasoning; " I hope we shall not 
 differ about these cases, none of which are, in 
 my opinion, very likely to occur to a schoolboy. 
 And now Master Macon, what do you say ?" 
 
 " That I will promise as much as Frederic 
 does, sir ; that I will not fight if I can help it." 
 
 Dr. Wilby looked hard at Arthur as he said, 
 "With a very different meaning, I fear, sir, 
 from Frederic's. Well, I will promise that I 
 will not punish you if I can help it ; so now we 
 understand each other. Good afternoon, young 
 gentlemen." 
 
 They made their bows, and walked together 
 from the school. 
 
 " Fred, what a lucky thing it was for me that 
 you made that prim speech." 
 
 " What prim speech, Arthur ?" 
 
 " Why, that you would not fight if you could 
 help it it was such a capital come off forme." 
 
 " Arthur," said Frederic, gravely, " why 
 should it be only a come off? I am sure you 
 think I am right : why will you not resolve as 
 1 have done ?" 
 
 " Oh, Fred, it's all right enough for you, but 
 it would not do for me at all." 
 
 " But why not, Arthur ?" persisted Frederic; 
 " I am sure you are brave enough to do what 
 you think right, without being afraid of other 
 people." 
 
 " Afraid !" ejaculated Arthur, in acontemptu.
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO: 
 
 ous tone. " Yes; but then, Frederic, I uever 
 could be like you, so good-tempered and rea- 
 sonable ; I will get into a passion, and abuse 
 people every now and then ; and after you have 
 abused a boy, then to refuse to fight him would 
 be too sneaking don't you think so yourself?" 
 
 " I don't know what to say to that," said 
 Frederic, puzzled for an instant ; " but stay, 
 Arthur, let us think what is right." Then, after 
 a little thought, he resumed, " No, Arthur, I 
 don't think it would be sneaking at all, if you 
 felt you were wrong, to tell him so, and ask 
 his pardon ; and then, you know, there could be 
 no fight." 
 
 " Tell him so, and ask his pardon !" ejaculated 
 Arthur ; " not till I had whipped him, Fred, 
 and then I would do it as quick as anybody." 
 
 " But suppose he whipped you, Arthur ':" 
 
 " There are not many who can do that," said 
 Arthur, proudly. 
 
 " But some might." 
 
 " Oh, then I must try it again ; and if he is 
 too strong for me in one way, why we must 
 take another. You know they say a weak man 
 is as good as a strong one when it comes to 
 shooting." 
 
 " Arthur, how can you talk so ? and you are 
 speaking now of a case in which you would 
 know yourself to be in the wrong." 
 
 "Well, Frederic," said Arthur, getting warmer 
 as he felt that he could not sustain his cause, " it 
 is of no use talking about it : I will not be a 
 coward." 
 
 " Do you think me a coward, Arthur ?" 
 
 "No, Frederic: no one who knows you as I 
 do think you so ; but some who do not know 
 you well, may." 
 
 " My father says they will know me in time, 
 and that, till they do, I must try not to care 
 for them at least, not to let fear of them" 
 Frederic laid great stress on the word fear 
 " make me do wrong." 
 
 The boys had reached Mr. Stanley's door, 
 and they parted. Frederic fearing that it would 
 not be quite so easy to correct Arthur's faults 
 as he had hoped. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A CHAMPION, THOUGH NO TIGHTER. 
 
 He's gentle, but not fearful. SHAKSPEAKE. 
 
 Frederic's arm grew strong. He took boxing 
 lessons of Arthur Macou, and fencing lessons, 
 by his father's wish, from a good master, and 
 the boys felt before long to use Frederic's own 
 language that if he did not fight, it was not 
 because he could not. As Arthur Macon was 
 now his firm friend, and his kind feelings and 
 obliging disposition prevented his giving just 
 cause of complaint to any of his companions, 
 it did not sew probable that, vhil at 
 
 his principles on this subject would be tried. 
 But improbable things do sometimes happen, 
 and so did this. 
 
 The youngest boy attending Dr. Wilby's 
 school was William Spencer, an orphan, feeble 
 in constitution, and gentle and timid in temper. 
 Since the death of his mother, which had 
 occurred about a year before the incident we 
 are going to relate, he had lived with an uncle, 
 who seemed a stern, harsh man, and whose 
 eldest son was also one of Frederic's fellow- 
 pupils. James Thome seemed to have inherited 
 his father's temper. He was passionate, over- 
 bearing, and, to his little cousin, tyrannical. Mr. 
 Thome had forbidden these boys remaining on 
 the play-ground for more than an hour after 
 they were dismissed from school in the after- 
 noon. Too much accustomed to his son's false- 
 hood to place any reliance upon his word, 
 he had exacted from William a promise of 
 punctuality with much formality and many 
 threats threats which, to the poor boy, who 
 till lately had known nothing rougher than his 
 mother's gentle rebuke, were terrifying indeed. 
 The very day on which this command was given 
 had been appointed for a famous game of ball, 
 which was to be played between the boys of Dr. 
 Wilby's school and those of another school in 
 the same street. Both schools were dismissed at 
 three o'clock ; but so much time was taken up in 
 getting to the play-ground and arranging all the 
 preliminaries of the game, that when the clock 
 struck four, the hour at which, according to their 
 promise, James Thorne and William Spencer 
 were to return home, the play had just com- 
 menced. William sighed at this interruption of 
 his pleasure, but without a thought of disobe- 
 dience, dropped his bat and picked up his satchel. 
 
 " Why, what are you going to do, William ?" 
 asked one of the boys. 
 
 " Going home," said William. " Uncle Thorne 
 told me I must not stay a minute longer than 
 one hour after school." 
 
 James Thorne heard him and came up, bat 
 in hand. " W : hat's that you say, sir, about 
 going home ?" he asked, in an excited tone. 
 
 " Cousin James, it's four o'clock, and you 
 know what your father said." 
 
 " Well, my father didn't say we must come 
 home at four o'clock, did he ?" 
 
 " No ; but he said we must come home in one 
 hour, and you know school was out at three." 
 
 "And how is he to know at what hour school 
 was out, unless you tell him ?" 
 
 " He will ask me, I am sure he will," said 
 poor William, looking at the church clock as if 
 frightened already at the time that had passed. 
 
 " W r ell, if he does ask you, can't you say you 
 don't know ? I am sure I don't, for I have heard 
 my father say a hundred times that clock was 
 no guide," looking up at the church steeple as 
 he spoke, 
 
 " Oh, cousin James, do lefr roe gp," said tta 
 now almost wiping boy \ " you? fether will
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQlE.ST: 
 
 whip me with that great whip, and I can't tell 
 him a story indeed I can't." 
 
 " And do you mean to say, sir, that I tell 
 stones ? You' are a liar yourself if you do ; and 
 now, sir, if you dare to move a single step till 
 I give you leave, I'll give you a worse thrashing 
 with my hat than ever my father did with his 
 whip ; so now go, if you dare." 
 
 William hurst into tears as the young tyrant 
 turned away, sobbing out, " Oh, what shall I do 
 what shall I do :-" 
 
 SeTeral boys had heard the dialogue, and 
 were now gathered around William. Among 
 these was Frederic Stanley. He felt a peculiar 
 interest in William, for Mrs. Spencer had been 
 an intimate friend of his own dear mother, who 
 often pitied the orphan boy. 
 
 " Do what is right, William," said Frederic ; 
 " if you promised your uncle to go home, go." 
 
 William looked "at him gratefully as he took 
 a step homeward ; but James Thome had heard 
 him too, and, rushing back, he seized William 
 by the arm, saying passionately, " You shall not 
 stir a step, sir, I tell you." 
 
 Frederic now interfered again : " Thome, let 
 him go ; if you keep him here against his will, 
 I will go myself to your father, and tell him the 
 whole affair. William shall not be whipped 
 without any fault of his own." 
 
 " What business is it of yours, sir ?" 
 
 " It is everybody's business to keep a poor 
 little boy, who is too weak to fight his own 
 battles, from being ill-treated." 
 
 " So you mean to fight his battles, do you ? 
 Very well, sir, I am ready to fight you ;" and 
 he stepped up to Frederic, leaving William free. 
 
 " Run, William, run," cried a dozen voices at 
 once, while Frederic intercepted every movement 
 which Thome made again to seize his victim. 
 It was but an instant that this was necessary, 
 for William made good use of his freedom, and 
 fear lending him wings.it would very soon have 
 been impossible for Thome to overtake him. 
 Doubly enraged by disappointment, he turned 
 again upon Frederic : " Do you mean to fight 
 me, sir ?" 
 
 " No, Thorne, you know I will not fight you." 
 
 " You're a cowardly, sneaking " 
 
 " If I had been afraid of you, Thorne, I would 
 not have taken poor William's part." 
 
 " I'll knock you down, sir;" and Thorne 
 raised his bat as he spoke. 
 
 " That's easier said than done," was Frederic's 
 quiet rejoinder, as, seizing the arm in which the 
 bat was, he held it suspended in the air. Thorne 
 raised the other arm threateningly it was 
 also seized; he attempted to kick with the 
 trick of a practised wrestler, Frederic tripped 
 him. and, supporting him by the arms he still 
 held in such a manner as to prevent his having 
 a very hard fall, laid him at his length upon 
 the ground. " Xov, Thorne, you see it is of 
 no use to attack me ; but I do not vish to hurt 
 jou, and if you will promise to T>c qniet, 
 
 you shall get up. Will you promise?" A 
 gulky " yes" was with some difficulty obtained 
 from the prostrate boy, and Frederic let him 
 rise, saying, " William is at home by this time ; 
 and when your passion is over, instead of being 
 angry with ine, you will feel very glad that I 
 did not let you strike him." 
 
 He received no reply bnt an angry look as 
 Thorne passed out of the yard. The other boys, 
 however, were all loud in their acclamations'of 
 his self-possession and his skill. 
 
 " That was well done, Stanley," they voci- 
 ferated. " Yes, Fred, that was well "done," 
 said Arthur Macon ; " but suppose Thorne had 
 been the strongest what would you have done 
 then ?" 
 
 " Why, if none of you had been willing to 
 help me, I must then have taken his blows : 
 they would probably have been no worse 
 than I should, in that case, have got in fighting 
 him." 
 
 " But in fighting you would have had the 
 comfort of knowing that you gave him some." 
 
 " The comfort of knowing that I had done 
 wrong ! Sorry comfort, Arthur." 
 
 "And would you just have stayed quietly, 
 and let that boy beat you. if you had not ha'd 
 strength enough to ward off his blows ?" 
 
 ' No, Arthur, I should not have stayed quietly. 
 If I could not have kept off his blows, I should 
 certainly have tried to return them ; that, you 
 know, would have been very different from a 
 regular fight. My father says, when another 
 person attacks you, it is self-defence to do what 
 you can to keep them from hurting you, and self- 
 defence is always right." 
 
 " Why, Fred, you talk like a lawyer. Do you 
 mean to be one ?" 
 
 " Be a lawyer ! Oh, no." 
 " What then ':" 
 
 " I do not know yet, exactly I have not 
 quite made up my mind ; but either a soldier 
 or a sailor." 
 
 "Whew v w!" whistled Arthur. A 
 soldier or a sailor, and not fight !" 
 
 " Not fight, Arthur, without a gocd reason ; 
 not fight, unless I feel that it is right that 
 some good object is to be gained by it. Sol- 
 diers and sailors fight to defend their country, 
 and that is a good reason." 
 
 " Fred, I tell you you should be a lawyer." 
 " And I tell you I won't." 
 " Well, if you go in the army or navy, so 
 will I," said "Arthur, laughing, '"'if it be "only 
 to see how you get along without fighting. So 
 let me know when you have made up your 
 mind which it is to be."
 
 OB, WHICH MARES iiiE HKfi'J? 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AX IMPORTANT DECISION. 
 
 Here Jo I cLoose, and thrive I as I may. 
 
 SUAKSl'KAKK. 
 
 When Frederic was fifteen, Colonel Stanley 
 thought it was time that he should decide on 
 the profession which he would desire to pursue, 
 as his choice would influence very greatly the 
 course of his studies. He had long known that 
 Frederic's inclinations pointed either to ihe 
 army or navy. This he regrettc-d; for, like 
 most men. even while attached to his profession, 
 and feeling it the best of all others for himself, 
 he had an exaggerated opinion of its inconve- 
 niences, and would have preferred some other 
 for his only son. He would not, however, in- 
 fluence Frederic in a matter so important to his 
 individual happiness, farther than by point- 
 ing out, as fully and as fairly as he could, the 
 advantages and disadvantages of each line of 
 life which was open to him. This he did 
 when, as we Lave already said, Frederic was 
 fifteen, very seriously and earnestly. He re- 
 quested him to take time for his decision, as it 
 was too important to be made hastily ; he would 
 rather not receive it under a week. Mrs. Stanley 
 was present at this conversation, and difficult, 
 indeed, was it for her to forbear some attempt 
 to influence her son to such a choice as wnild 
 ensure his remaining at home ; but she had 
 promised her husband to refrain from doing so, 
 and she was silent. She was silent! but scarce 
 could any words have said more than the half, 
 smothere'd sigh which met Frederic's ear as 
 his father reminded him that, in choosing a 
 military life, be would relinquish all command 
 over his time and movements, and must expect 
 to spend most of his life at a distance from 
 home. 
 
 It was very wise in Colonel Stanley to wish 
 that Frederic should take a week to think on a 
 subject so important as this, and yet, at the end 
 of the week, poor Frederic was no nearer to a 
 decision than he had been at the beginning. 
 His desire was for the sea. Mrs. Stanley had a 
 brother who was a naval cfiicer of high rank, 
 and in his occasional visits, Frederic had hung 
 with breathless interest on his narratives of the 
 adventurous and exciting incidents of a sailor's 
 life. The careless mirth, which forget, in the 
 enjoyment of a sunny day, the just-escaped 
 shipwreck or the coming storm the chivalric 
 spirit with which every nerve was braced, when 
 the occasion required, to meet the strife of ele- 
 ments or the strife of men the storm or the 
 battle had wonderful charms for an animated 
 and high-spirited boy. Yet Frederic had hitherto 
 felt that the sea was to Lira a forbidden hope, 
 fearing that his mother would "be deeply pained 
 by such a choice. But i:ow Hs father had 
 sjioTcen of this choice as possible as pc ntn'.ted ; 
 iiVy, he fcafl said that he did net clcv.M VeSng 
 
 able, through the inUreot he could command 
 at Washington, to procure hiui a midshipman's 
 warrant. Ever, as Frederic arrived at this point 
 in his reflections, his heart would heal, h-N 
 check flush, his eye kindle, and he was for ji 
 moment resolved; but then would come the 
 remembrance of his mother's low, qmverin-.j 
 sigh, and his resolution and his pleasure would 
 fade away, as he felt that his gratification was 
 to be purchased by her pain. 
 
 Thus passed the week, and, siiil undecided, 
 Frederic obeyed his father's summons to tlm 
 parlour, where he and Mrs. Stanley awaited 
 his important communication. Colonel Stanley- 
 saw that his son was agitated, and endeavoured 
 to put him at his eas.e by his own cheerful voice 
 and manner as he said, " "Well, Frederic, how 
 is it ? Am I to send you to college, and be 
 paid hereafter in lawyers' pleas or doctors' 
 pills, or am I to take a young ensign back to 
 the army with me, or to send your uncle a mid- 
 shipman ?" 
 
 Frederic smiled opened his lips to speak 
 but his thoughts were strangely confused, and 
 he could not find a word with which to begin. 
 
 " Speak, my son. I only desire to know 
 what are your wishes. These it cannot be 
 difficult for you to tell." 
 
 " I know w hat I wish, papa ; but " Frederic 
 paused. 
 
 " Well, my son, let us hear what you wish 
 first; we will have the buts afterward. Now, 
 then, what is your wish ?" 
 " To he in the navy, papa." 
 Colonel Stanley glanced at his wife, and saw 
 that she had drawn back so that Frederic could 
 not see her, and covered her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 " And now, what are the buts, Frederic ?" 
 Frederic lowered his eyes as he replied, " I 
 was afraid mamma would not like me to go 
 that it would grieve her." 
 
 " Your mother w ill doubtless grieve when her 
 boy leaves her to go out and try the world for 
 himself, in whatever profession it may be ; and 
 as there are peculiar trials attached to a sailor's 
 life, she may well wish that you had chosen 
 another. But your mother is too wise not to 
 know that very much of your success and com- 
 fort in life depend upon your carrying into your 
 pursuits that hearty good-will which you could 
 not feel for employments prescribed by another, 
 and to which your own inclinations were op- 
 posed. I need not add, Frederic, that your 
 mother loves you too well not to reconcile 
 herself readily to what is for your advantage." 
 
 Colonel Stanley had spoken to Frederic, but 
 for his wife. Mrs. Stanley felt this, and when 
 he added, " Come, Mary, you must set Frederic's 
 mind at rest, and let him see that he has not 
 quite such a cowardly mother as he tLinks for," 
 she commanded herself and spoke cheerful 
 words, though in a tremulous voice. Frederic's 
 bc?rt flnng aside all fear and doul! as lie heard
 
 18 
 
 those words, and again and again he kissed his 
 mother in his gladness and gratitude as he re- 
 peated, " How good it is in you, mamma, to let 
 me go how very good !" 
 
 Colonel Stanley saw hy the quivering of his 
 wife's lip that she could not much longer con- 
 trol her tears, and he exclaimed, " Well, well, 
 he off now : I should think your mother would 
 he glad to get rid of such a pest. See Arthur 
 Macon, and if he really wishes to go with 
 you, as you told me he did, I will apply for a 
 warrant for him too." 
 
 " Oh, thank you thank you, papa ; I am 
 sure he will wish it," said Frederic, as, tossing 
 his cap in the air, and catching it as it fell, he 
 bounded off, little suspecting, in his own ex- 
 uherant delight, that before he was out of sight 
 his mother was weeping bitterly, and replying 
 to her husband's tender soothings. 
 
 " Such sorrow must have way, my husband, 
 if only for a moment. You know not how that 
 boy's joyous spirit has supported me in your 
 absence. Oh, how desolate will my home be 
 when you are gone from me, and I can no 
 longer hear his bounding step and ringing 
 laugh !" 
 
 " Mary ! desolate, do you say, -with our 
 gentle girl to comfort you, and the hope of our 
 return to lighten your sorrow ? This is wrong. 
 Besides, think you that those who go suffer 
 nothing ? It is not quite like my own generous 
 wife to be more mindful of her own sorrows 
 than of ours. I am sure that if Frederic saw 
 you now, the sea would lose its charm to him ; 
 he would repent of his choice till it was too 
 late to return to it, and then, it is probable, 
 repent of his repentance." 
 
 " Do not fear. Let me go to my room now, 
 and before you see me again I will have schooled 
 this rebellious heart. I will not, by my sadness, 
 disturb your peace, or dim the brightness of my 
 boy's opening life. I feel that I am happy in 
 having such objects for whose absence to 
 grieve." 
 
 Mrs. Stanley kept her word ; and when she 
 joined her husband and son at dinner, it was 
 with a manner so serenely cheerful, that even 
 Colonel Stanley thought her mind was as peace- 
 ful as her brow. 
 
 When will it be known what woman has 
 borne in uncomplaining silence for the sake of 
 those she loves ? When we stand in that light 
 by which all hearts shall be revealed the light 
 of Heaven. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOME, AS LEFT. 
 
 I hare already told you tbe dangers of your 
 choice. The path teems now plain and even ; but 
 there are asperities and pitfalls over Tvhich religion 
 only can conduct jou. JOHNSON. 
 
 Arthur Macon, when told that Frederic would 
 enter the navy, hesitated as little on accompany. 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 ing him as he would have done in determining 
 on a day's fishing party, or an excursion into 
 the country. How he won his mother's consent 
 none knew ; but it was won, and Colonel Stan- 
 ley added his name to Frederic's in his applica- 
 tion. The warrants were obtained in a few 
 months, and Frederic was not yet sixteen, nor 
 Arthur eighteen, when they received orders to 
 report themselves for service on board the ship 
 
 L , then lying at Norfolk, and commanded 
 
 by Mrs. Stanley's brother, Capt. B. From the 
 moment these orders were received, all was 
 bustle and preparation, both with Mrs. Stanley 
 and Mrs. Macon, to get their young adventurers 
 ready at the time which Colonel Stanley had 
 appointed, and which seemed to them unreason- 
 ably early. For this early time the colonel gave 
 some excellent reasons, and had one still more 
 influential which he did not give : this was his 
 wish to keep Mrs. Stanley so much engaged 
 that she should have no time for the indulgence 
 of regrets. He was so far successful that it was 
 not till the afternoon of the last day that Mrs. 
 Stanley could think of Frederic's departure with- 
 out finding all regret displaced by the question, 
 What is next to be done for his comfort ? But 
 that afternoon all was done : the trunk was 
 packed the clothes to be worn on his journey 
 put aside even the marks affixed to his baggage"; 
 and now she felt in very deed that he was 
 going. With what loving earnestness did her 
 eyes now fix themselves upon him ; how did her 
 ears drink every tone of his dear voice ; what a 
 shudder would thrill through her frame, if he 
 left the room but for a moment, at the thought 
 that soon he would pass out and return no 
 more, it might be, for ever ! Well is it for our 
 freedom that we cannot read each other's 
 hearts ; for if such yearning tenderness were 
 fully perceived, would it not bind us with 
 stronger chains than were ever wrought by 
 human hands ? 
 
 The travellers were to be early astir, and 
 Colonel Stanley advised that Frederic should 
 retire early to bed. He hesitated and lingered ; 
 for, as the still evening came on, he had drawn 
 closer to his mother's side, with something of 
 the feeling with which, in years past, he had 
 clung to her to the last possible moment, when 
 threatened with a separation of even an hour. 
 Mrs. Stanley saw this feeling, and was soothed 
 by it ; but as Frederic still found something to 
 delay his departure from the room even after 
 he had risen to say "good-night," she whis- 
 pered, " Go to your room, my son ; I will come 
 there." 
 
 When Mrs. Stanley entered her son's room, 
 she found that he had left his night-lamp in the 
 hall, and that his room was lighted by the soft 
 beams of a full and cloudless moon. The 
 windows of this room looked into a large and 
 highly-cultivated garden, filled with flowering 
 plants and shrubs. The sashes were raised, for 
 it was June, and the day had been very warmj
 
 OK, WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 and now, on the evening breeze, was wafted up 
 into the room the mingled fragrance of the 
 honeysuckle and the night jessamine. To one 
 who had looked upon that scene, knowing 
 nothing of its accompanying circumstances, the 
 room, with its curtains of spotless white its 
 neat, yet simple furniture the garden, with its 
 ma.5s of shrubbery, from which here and there 
 shot up some graceful stem, loaded with flowers, 
 that gleamed with softened beauty in the moon- 
 light those figures, standing motionless and 
 silent, as if the loveliness and fragrance around 
 them had awakened enjoyment too full for 
 speech all would have seemed to indicate a 
 scene of such serene happiness as earth rarely 
 presents. And yet sorrow was there. 
 
 Mrs. Stanley entered so noiselessly that Fre- 
 deric heard her not, neither did he see her, for 
 he was standing with his back to the entrance, 
 leaning against the casement of a windov, from 
 which he looked into the garden. Mrs. Stanley 
 was unwilling to interrupt the thoughts which 
 seemed so absorbing, and she moved silently 
 across the room, and stood near him, yet not in 
 sight. The moon shone brightly on Frederic's 
 face, and his mother could read every emotion 
 of his heart mirrored there. She had stood 
 but a short time thus engaged, when a low sigh 
 met her ear, and Frederic murmured, " I never 
 thought it so beautiful before ; I wonder when 
 I shall see it again." 
 
 Mrs. Stanley passed her arm around his neck. 
 
 " My mother! How softly you must have 
 come in : have you just come ?" 
 
 " No, Frederic ; I have been here some 
 minutes, and I heard what you just now said. 
 But, my dear son, the important question is not 
 when you shall revisit your home, but Jiou-. 
 Will you bring back to it the same true heart- 
 the same honest purposes ?" 
 
 " I will try to do so, mother." 
 
 " Frederic, you have thought it was your 
 mother's cowardice which made her dread' for 
 you the life you have chosen. It was cowardice ; 
 but my worst fears, Frederic, are neither of 
 storm nor battle my worst fears are of your- 
 self." 
 
 " Of me, mother ?" 
 
 " Yes, of yon. Your dispositions, my dear 
 boy, are good your affections warm ; but these 
 affections may give to those with whom you 
 associate undue influence over jour character, 
 How can I trust to the principles of fifteen !" 
 
 " Mother, you know I will be with my uncle ; 
 he will, of course, have more influence over me 
 than strangers ?" 
 
 Mrs. Stanley was silent for a moment, and an 
 expression of painful thought passed over her 
 features. At length she spoke. " Frederic, it 
 pains me to say, that not even to your uncle's 
 influence am 1 willing wholly to consign jou. 
 The very soul of honour possessing a heart 
 full of all kindly affections, he yet considers some 
 thmgs as necessary many things as venial- 
 Tan NOVEL NEWSPAPER, No. 346. 
 
 which are not only plainly contrary to the com- 
 mand of God, but unworthy of a rational, and 
 degrading to an immortal being." 
 
 As his mother paused, Frederic said, " Mother, 
 why did you not say this to me before ? 1 would 
 not have gone in the navy if I had supposed it 
 would give you so much pain." 
 
 " It was for that verj reason I did not speak 
 thus to you before, my son. I believed that a 
 knowledge of my feelings would control your 
 choice as much as my command, and your 
 fa; her wished you to be left perfectly free. But 
 now I must speak. I cannot send you from me 
 unwarned; and now, my beloved boy, listen to 
 me as if the words you were hearing were the 
 last which, from my lips, could ever reach 
 your ear. Life, dear Frederic, is ever a conflict. 
 A few years hence, and you will understand 
 these words ; but now they need explanation. 
 I mean, that the principles which wisdom and 
 truth sanction, are not those which govern 
 society. In every pursuit in life, you will find 
 that these principles are often evaded, if not 
 positively rejected that honours and emolu- 
 ments do not always attend those who most 
 rigidly observe them. You have learned already, 
 Frederic, that in doing right you have often to 
 resist your own inclinations, your own feelings 
 have you not." 
 
 ' Yes, mother, I have." 
 
 " You have hitherto been aided in this resist- 
 ance by the approbation of your parents and 
 friends, which you knew would be the reward 
 of your well-doing : but you must hereafter 
 fight frequently single-handed against these in- 
 clinations, strengthened, it may be, by the in- 
 fluence of all your associates. Their applause, 
 and honour, and affection will often present 
 themselves as the reward of your yielding 
 their jeers and coldness wait upon your victory. 
 Will the quiet satisfaction of your own heart 
 the consciousne-s that you are giving joy to 
 your mother's spirit, whether that spirit be on 
 earth or in heaven the solemn sense of God's 
 approval will these, my son, outweigh with 
 you all present influences, all worldly considera- 
 tions ; for these, will you strive ever to keep 
 yourself spotless from the evil which may be 
 around you ?" 
 
 Mrs. Stanley had spoken with deep and 
 solemn feeling, and it was in an awed tone 
 that Frederic replied, " Mother, I will." 
 
 " So, my son, will your mother's blessing be 
 yours. You have chosen, as I have already said, 
 a position where there is more than common 
 temptation to evil ; but in proportion to your 
 trial will be your triumph, if you overcome, and 
 proudly indeed shall 1 receive my son, if he 
 come to me a conqueror from such a contest." 
 
 The fond mother pressed her lips to the brow 
 which now rested on her bosom. Both were 
 silent for a moment. Mrs. Stanley was the first 
 to break this silence. Taking Frederic's hand, 
 and touching the ring which she had given him,
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 she said, " Let this be a talisman, dear Fre- 
 deric, to preserve you from the contagion of evil 
 example. You promised me, when you put it 
 on, that you would not let the fear of others 
 lead you to do wrong in one important respect; 
 will you now promise that this fear shall govern 
 you in no respect ? Just so far as it does, re- 
 member, you are a slave, boast as you will of 
 freedom and manliness. When you are tempted 
 by gay and thoughtless companions to join with 
 them in scenes of dissipation, from which you 
 would have shrunk in the quiet and holy atmo- 
 sphere of home, ask not what will they say 
 what will they think, but what does my own 
 heart say what will God think. Let these, 
 your own heart and God, he your only masters. 
 And remember, Frederic, it is at its first ap- 
 pearance that evil may be most successfully re- 
 sisted." Suddenly clasping her hands together 
 with earnest feeling, Mrs. Stanley ejaculated, 
 " Oh, my son ! would I could believe that you 
 would have strength never to lift the wine-cup 
 to your lip never to approach the gaming- 
 table. Assured of this, I think I could bid you 
 go in peace." 
 
 Frederic raised his head from his mother's 
 bosom, and taking her hands in his, looked her 
 steadfastly in the face as he said, " Then, 
 mother, bid me go in peace ; for I here solemnly 
 promise you, by this ring, and by the one dear 
 word ' mother,' which is engraved on it, that I 
 never will lift the wine-cup to iny lip or ap- 
 proach the gaming-table." As he concluded, 
 he bent his head down and touched the ring 
 with his lip. 
 
 " Frederic, you have vowed a vow it is al- 
 ready registered in heaven God give you 
 power to keep it: for this shall my daily 
 prayers ascend ; for this, if you would indeed 
 be true, must you too prostrate your spirit daily 
 before your Father who is in heaven; from 
 Him, dear Frederic, in prayer, must you gather 
 strength every morning to meet the trials of the 
 day, and derive consolation every evening for 
 the failures which, with all your efforts to do 
 right, each day will bring. And now good- 
 night, my beloved son. I leave you with a 
 tranquillised spirit; for sure am I, that if you 
 keep the pledges you have made to me, your 
 course through life will be as ' the path of the 
 just, that shineth more and more unto the 
 perfect day.' " 
 
 When Arthur Macon presented himself at 
 Colonel Stanley's the next morning, though he 
 strove to laugh and talk as usual, his red eyes 
 bore witness to his having parted with a son's 
 tenderness from his doting mother. Soon after 
 his appearance, Colonel Stanley rose from table, 
 saying, " Come, my son." Frederic became very 
 pale. He first took leave of his sister, who had 
 been in tears all the morning, and who now- 
 hung upon his neck, weeping convulsively, till 
 her father drew her away. Frederic turned to 
 his mother. One embraceone earnest whisper: 
 
 " Mother, I will keep my promise" one long, 
 eager gaze, and they had parted. 
 
 How different from the calm scene on which 
 Frederic looked the last evening, was that to 
 which twelve hours' rapid sailing brought our 
 travellers. Before them was New York, with 
 its encompassing waters : then came the landing, 
 whose confusion of sights and sounds beggars 
 all description. To Frederic and Arthur, all 
 was one meaningless Babel ; but Colonel Stan- 
 ley's more practised eye and ear readily dis- 
 covered what he desired to find. One night of 
 rest, and they were again on their way to Phila- 
 delphia, Baltimore, Norfolk. They went not as 
 travellers go now, for in those days there were 
 neither steamboats nor railroads ; 'yet it seemed 
 to them that they had left their homeb but a 
 few days, when they stood on the deck of their 
 gallant ship, watching the boat which was con- 
 veying Colonel Stanley to the shore on his way 
 homeward. He had bidden them adieu. They 
 are fairly out on the sea of life ; their pilot has 
 departed; and heuceforth, by their own skill 
 must their sails be trimmed and their helm 
 directed. Storms we know that they will 
 meet ; for who does not ? Shall they outlive 
 them, and arrive safe at their destined haven, 
 or shall we pursue their course but to give 
 tidings of their wreck ? 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A NEW HOME. 
 
 "Wheu ranting round in Pleasure's ring, 
 
 Religion may be blinded ; 
 Or, if she gi'e a random sting, 
 
 It may be little minded. 
 But when upon the world we're driven, 
 
 A conscience but a canker, 
 A correspondence fixed wi' Heaven 
 
 Is sure a noble anchor. 
 
 BUBXS. 
 
 The first introduction of a midshipman to the 
 punctilious etiquette of the quarter-deck, and 
 the very unceremonious associations of the 
 steerage of a man-of-war, have been depicted 
 by those with whom we would disclaim all 
 competition, either for practical acquaintance 
 with such scenes, or skill in delineating them. 
 Fortunately for us, any such delineation is un- 
 necessary to our purpose. Ours is a history of 
 the mind, and we shall only present to the view 
 of our readers those points in the career of our 
 youug heroes which tested the strength or illus- 
 trated the effects of those principles which pa- 
 rental tenderness had inculcated and early 
 habits fostered. 
 
 During the first two years of their sea-life, 
 little occurred to Frederic and Arthur worthy 
 of our attention. The ship to which they 
 were attached had been sent to the West Indies,
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO 
 
 21 
 
 and there they had experienced all the varieties 
 of storm and calm common to tropical climates : 
 to-day sailing gently along, over a sea so smooth 
 that it mirrored with unbroken faithfulness the 
 lightest cloud floating over the blue sky; to- 
 morrow tossed on mountain waves, that threat- 
 ened every moment to ingulf them. These 
 alternations of storm and calm were felt, too, 
 within their little society. Now all was smiling, 
 friendly, jovial ; and now frowning brows, harsh 
 voices, and bitter words were seen and heard. 
 Frederic's good-temper and obligingness had, 
 however, made him a general favourite. Arthur, 
 too, was liked, and all acknowledged him to be 
 spirited, active, intelligent, and affectionate ; 
 yet his impetuous and unrestrained temper had 
 involved him in more than one broil, from 
 which he had been extricated by the coolness 
 and self-possession of his friend. With Frederic 
 Arthur never quarrelled, though they often 
 differed in their opinions ; but there was not 
 another midshipman in their mess with whom 
 he had not had words, which, but for Frederic's 
 readiness to act the peacemaker, would have 
 grown into more serious affairs. But one scene 
 will tell more of their characters and positions 
 than pages of description. 
 
 It was September, 1811. The good ship 
 
 had experienced some very severe weather, and, 
 having entered the harbour of New Orleans, lay 
 safely moored near the shore. The weather 
 was sultry, and it was not till evening that any 
 who had not a home or friends within the city 
 felt disposed to leave the ship. But the cool 
 night-breeze brought new energy on its wings, 
 and all not immediately on duty began to think 
 how they might most pleasantly spend an even- 
 ing on shore. In such a consultation the opinion 
 of no other was so much regarded as that of 
 George Fulton, the oldest midshipman on board, 
 for he had been in New Orleans, and knew all 
 its varied places of amusement. 
 
 " Poh, poh !" said young Fulton to those who 
 had proposed a stroll through the city or a visit 
 to its theatres ; " I will show you the place to 
 enjoy yourselves, and make money besides." 
 
 " Enjoy ourselves, and make money besides !" 
 exclaimed all at once ; " that will be a grand 
 secret ; for we have always found it enjoy 
 yourself, and you spend money." 
 
 " Yes, but you never were at a faro-table in 
 New Orleans." 
 
 " A faro-table !" said Frederic Stanley: " no, 
 nor ever mean to be." 
 
 The rest were silent except Arthur Macon, 
 who said, " Speak for yourself, Fred. I should 
 think it would be grand fun if one were only 
 sure of winning." 
 
 " And one is sure of winning," said George 
 Fulton, " if he only knows how to play. I always 
 win." 
 
 "But I do not know how to play I never 
 saw a faro-table." 
 
 " Nor I nor I," was exclaimed on every side. 
 " So, Fulton, you must hit upon some other 
 amusement faro won't do." 
 
 " Well, there's rouge et noir." 
 
 " Rouge et noir ! What's that ?' 
 
 " Why, rouge et noir means red and black." 
 
 " Well, we all have French enough for that," 
 said Arthur, impatiently, while the rest greeted 
 this information with a loud laugh ; " but what 
 have red and black to do with our amusements, 
 or with yours, rather ? for it will be my watch 
 in half an hour, and I must stay on board." 
 
 " Why, it's a game, man : rouge et noir is a 
 game, and the simplest in the world. You just 
 put your money down on one colour or the 
 other, and everybody puts their money down, 
 and a man calls out either rouge or noir, and 
 those who have their money on the right colour 
 take all that was on the other." 
 
 "That all sounds very well, Fulton," said 
 Frederic Stanley; "but how is it with those 
 whose money is on the wrong colour ?" 
 
 " Oh ! why they lose ; but think how little it 
 is in comparison with what they gain, if they 
 are lucky." 
 
 " Well," said one of the young men, " at least 
 let us go on shore ; we shall certainly find some- 
 thing better to do there than standing in this 
 hot place talking about what we will do." 
 
 This caused an instantaneous movement to- 
 wards the deck ; but again there was a pause : 
 ' Who is going who has leave ?" 
 
 " I have and I and I," exclaimed one and 
 another. Frederic and Arthur were both silent. 
 
 " Why, Stanley, don't you go ? I know you 
 got leave this afternoon," said Fulton. 
 
 " Yes, but I do not care to go this evening. 
 I will stay and keep Arthur company in his 
 watch." 
 
 " That's very good of you, Fred ; but I should 
 like it better if you would take my watch, and 
 let me go instead of you," said Arthur ; " that 
 is, if you really do not wish to go this evening 
 yourself." 
 
 Arthur paused; but Frederic seemed to be 
 thinking, and made him no reply. 
 
 " You know," Arthur resumed, " that I would 
 do as much for you another time." 
 
 "Go on," said Frederic to his companions: 
 " we will follow you in a moment." 
 
 They were left alone. " Arthur," said Fre- 
 deric, "I would take your watch with all my 
 heart, if I was not afraid that you would get 
 into some scrape on shore. I do not like these 
 proposals of George Fulton." 
 
 "Why, Frederic," said Arthur, with a littte 
 impatience in his tone, "you are as wise and 
 prudent as if you were a great-grandfather. 
 What sort of scrape can I get into ? If I were 
 even to lose a little money, it would he no such 
 great misfortune." 
 
 " But, Arthur, it will be a great misfortune 
 if you were to contract a fondness for gaming.
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST 
 
 JVomise me that yon will not go to any gaming- 
 house, and I will take your watch." 
 
 At this moment there was a call from the 
 (]c'ck : " Tlia boat is ready, and we are waiting." 
 " Well, well, Fred, you are a good fellow to 
 slay, a .yhow, and I promise for this evening 
 B:ind, only for this evening," repeated Arthur, 
 as he sprang up to the deck. 
 
 Frederic followed him more leisurely. The 
 moon was just rising as the boat shoved off with 
 its gay passengers, and as Frederic walked the 
 d'-ck during the hours which should have been 
 Arthur's watch, his thoughts wandered back to 
 hi$ home. He remembered the last evening he 
 had spent there, when he had looked upon its 
 fl.iwers and shrubbery by the same silvery light 
 w hich now gleamed upon the dark forests, or 
 was reflected from the still river before him. 
 lie remembered his mother her earnest and 
 tender appeals to his heart; and as he touched 
 the ring which she had placed upon his finger, 
 he murmured an almost audible thanksgiving 
 to God that he l.ad been hitherto preserved 
 from sinning against love so tender and holy as 
 hers. 
 
 Frederic's watch having passed, the only mid- 
 shipman besides himself who had remained on 
 board, succeeded him on deck, and he went 
 below alone. This solitude at the last waking 
 hour was a rare luxury to Frederic. It was an 
 hour which be had been taught from childhood 
 to dedicate to serious thought, and the remem- 
 brances which had lately occupied his mind, 
 made the habits of his home-life very dear to 
 him. It was with a pleasant feeling, therefore, 
 that he looked around upon the strangely-still 
 apartment, usually so riotously noisy, and draw- 
 ing from his chest the little pocket Bible, his 
 mother's gift, seated himself to read. He had 
 not read long before he heard ihe step of some 
 one coming down from the deck, and, looking 
 op, met the somewhat clouded countenance of 
 Arthur Macon. 
 
 " What ! on board already, Arthur ! And 
 where are the rest ?" 
 
 " I am sure I cannot tell where they are ; 
 and as to my being on hoard already, I had 
 rather stay on board all the time than to go 
 wandering' alone again through a strange city." 
 " Alone! And did all the others go with 
 George Fulton ?" 
 
 " Yes. And I should judge, by the time 
 they stay, that they must be enjoying them- 
 selves." 
 
 They were both silent, till Arthur began to 
 recollect that Frederic had stayed on board to 
 gratify him had kept a tiresome watch in his 
 place and that his present sulky mood was not 
 the most grateful possible return for such 
 favours. Making an effort to oveicome his ill 
 humour, he looked up to say something, he 
 scarcely knew what, when his eye rested on 
 Frederic's Bible. 
 " What a good boy you are, Fred, to sit here 
 
 all alone reading your Bible !'' said he, with a 
 smile, which wanted little of being a sneer. 
 
 " I don't know that simply reading it, Arthur, 
 would prove me to be very good." 
 
 " Why, only your very good people do read 
 it," said Arthur, with a yawn. 
 
 " I know," said Frederic, " that all people 
 ought to read it who believe that there is 
 another state of being, and that they have 
 spirits which shall exist when this world and 
 all that is in it have passed away." 
 
 " Why, Fred," said Arthur, with another 
 yawn, " 1 told you once that you ought to be a 
 lawyer, but that was a mistake. I now see that 
 you were made for a preacher. You have 
 missed your vocation grievously in becoming 
 a wicked sailor." 
 
 " I hope I am not a wicked sailor, Arthur ; 
 and I shall endeavour to prove that one of those 
 you call very good people may be a very good 
 sailor too. As to my preaching, I do not think 
 I can be accused of troubling any one with it 
 very often." 
 
 " No ; I believe you never give it to any one 
 but me, Fred, which, I must say, I don't think 
 is quite fair, for I am sure I ani no worse than 
 the others. Why don't you attack them some- 
 times ?" 
 
 " To attack them, Arthur, as you call it, 
 would be to expose myself, and what were far 
 worse the truth I would desire to recommend, 
 to their ridicule. You, Arthur, have seemed to 
 me as one of my own family : you came from 
 my own dear home ; and I could not believe 
 you were altogether a scorner of what I had there 
 been taught to reverence. Besides, I hoped, for 
 my sake " 
 
 Frederic spoke with earnest feeling, and Ar- 
 thur, whose fit of petulance had been wear- 
 ing away ever since he began talking, now 
 seized his friend's hand, and interrupted him 
 with, "Don't mind me, Fred. I am sure I am 
 very glad that you care enough about me to 
 preach to me, and I don't doubt I am a great 
 deal better for it ; though you may wonder," he 
 added, laughing, " if that's the case, what I 
 would be without it. But, Fred, to be serious 
 now do you think you will always be able 
 to read your Bible, and all that sort of thing, if 
 you remain in the navy ?" 
 
 "Why not. Arthur? What would prevent 
 roe ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't know it seems so out of 
 character with all the rest of a sailor's life." 
 
 "It is out of character, I acknowledge, with 
 some of our frolicsome scenes down here ; but 
 in these, when they l>ecaine riotous, you know I 
 have never joined ; and yet I do not think that 
 any of our companions consider me gloomy, or 
 dislike me in the least." 
 
 " Oh no ! I am sure thev do not : they all 
 think you the very cleverest fellow in the world 
 they say you are so good-natured and oblig- 
 ing." *
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 23 
 
 ' Then," t>;iid Frederic, with a smile, " my 
 reading the Bible and all that sort of thing has 
 not made me unpopular, and I a;n sure ii has 
 not made me more dull in learning or more 
 careless in performing my duties in the ship. I 
 don't think I made the worst sailor among you 
 in the last gales \ve had." 
 
 " No, no, Fred, that you did not, by a great 
 deal:" then, after a moment's pause, Arthur 
 added, "Well, I suppose you are right, Fred, 
 and I wish I was half as good." 
 
 " I wish you were a great deal better, Arthur. 
 But, no'v that we have got through with my 
 preaching, tell me what you have been doing 
 with yourself this evening, and what made you 
 look so vexed when you came on board." 
 
 " Why, I have been to a theatre. The play 
 was in French, and I did not understand more 
 than one word in ten. Stiil I was amused with 
 what I saw, and came down in fine spirits to 
 the boat, expecting to find the rest of them 
 waiting for me. Instead of this, nothing had 
 been heard of them, and after waiting half an 
 hour, I had to corne off without them." 
 
 ' Well, I see nothing so very provoking in all 
 this, Arthur." 
 
 " To tell the truth, Fred, I hardly know what 
 provoked me, except that, as I waited that half 
 hour, I thought how merry they probably were, 
 and how much enjoyment they must have had 
 to stay so long ; and then I felt half mad with 
 myself, and you too, for the promise which kept 
 me from joining them. But there they come : 
 I hear Fulton's voice ; and, by George, he don't 
 seem to be in any better humour than I was." 
 
 This exclamation of Arthur was occasioned by 
 hearing, amid the shuffling of feet and the 
 various noises attendant on the descent of his 
 companions from the deck, a low muttering 
 from George Fulton, of which only a word here 
 and there coidd be distinguished ; but these few 
 words, and an occasional exclamation in a louder 
 key, were sufficient to show that the current of 
 George Fulton's temper was not, just at that 
 moment, running very smoothly. 
 
 " The deuce was in the cards, I believe," was 
 the first connected sentence which Arthur and 
 Frederic could distinguish. 
 
 " Would you have had the deuce wanting, 
 Fulton :" 
 
 " I suppose you think that very witty, Master 
 William Guthrie. I will take care, when I go 
 to a card-table again, not to take a chatterer 
 with me, to be for ever breaking in with, ' I say, 
 Fulton, that's a good hit ;' or, Fulton, which 
 shall I play ?' I have no doubt I am indebted 
 to your interruptions for losing my money to- 
 night." 
 
 " I'll forgive you the debt, Fulton, more 
 readily than any of thos e who won yor in oucy." 
 " Do you mean to accuse me, sir, o not hav- 
 ing paid what I lost to-night ? If you do, I 
 pronounce you a " 
 
 "Stop sto}),' 1 said Frederk .Stanley, laying 
 
 his hand on Fulton's lip before he could give 
 voice to the offensive epithet ; " Guthrie did not 
 mean any such thing, I am sure, and you are 
 too good-natured and too really brave, Fulton, 
 to desire to make a quarrel with a lad like 
 William for a mere jest." 
 
 " Well, young as he is, he is not too young," 
 said Fulton. " to learn that the worst time in 
 the world to jest with a man is when he has just 
 been losing all his money." 
 
 " Losing all his money !" exclaimed Arthur 
 Macon : " why, Fulton, I thought you always 
 won." 
 
 " Mr. Macon, if you will please to recollect, 
 I said I always won at faro ; and if you will con- 
 descend to inquire, you will learn that I did not 
 play at faro this evening." 
 
 " Poor Fulton ! I am sorry for you," said 
 Arthur, with a most provoking pity in his tone. 
 " What a pity you did not go with me, and hear 
 a fine play, and get a good supper all for two 
 dollars, and bring the rest of your 'money safe 
 back," jingling the silver in his pocket as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed one of Fulton's companions, 
 " the supper. I should not have cared much 
 for the play, but the supper would have been a 
 grand thing; for, would you believe it, Macon, 
 we have not had a thing to eat, and I have come 
 back as hungry as a hawk." 
 
 George Fulton sat disdainfully silent until the 
 provoking Arthur, shaking his head with an air 
 whose gravity would have become a judge, said, 
 " Poor fellow poor fellow ! I hope, my dear 
 boy, you will learn hereafter not to listen to the 
 voice of the tempter, or follow the multitude to 
 do evil." 
 
 George Fulton could stand no more, but start- 
 ing from his chair, with a flushed face and angry 
 manner, exclaimed, " Mr. Micon, I presume 
 your remarks are meant to reflect upon me, as 
 I invited these gentlemen to go where they 
 spent the evening : let me say, sir, in return, 
 that whatever evil they may learn from me, 
 hypocrisy will not be among the lessons : and 
 that I should take little credit to myself for 
 avoiding any thing, if I was only kept from it by 
 my fear of another." 
 
 " Fear, sir," cried the fiery Arthur, starting 
 forward in his turn; but Frederick drew him 
 back, saying, 
 
 " Hold hold, Arthur : you have been reall* 
 too provoking, and owe Fulton an apology." 
 
 " Xo, sir ; I will apologize to no man who 
 supposes that I would do any thing from fear;" 
 and Arthur impatiently shook off the grasp of 
 his friend. 
 
 " Arthur," said Frederic, " you are one cf 
 the last, I know, who should shrink from such 
 an accusation, because you are one of the last 
 of whom it could with' any show of truth be 
 said. Fulton, I am sure, feels as well assured 
 of this as I, and if he is the clever fellow I havg
 
 24 
 
 always taken him to be, he will say so, and 
 smooth the way for your apology. Ha, Fulton ?" 
 
 Mr. Macon knows that I could not mean fear 
 in the sense in which he has taken it," returned 
 Fulton, somewhat sulkily ; " though I must say, 
 I think his language was very unkind to me, 
 especially as he was kept from the same scrape 
 only through the influence of a friend." 
 
 All looked at Arthur. He saw that he was 
 expected to apologize ; but the flush had not yet 
 left his cheek, nor the heat passed from his 
 temper. "With an ironical smile and an evi- 
 dently forced calmness, he replied, " I really do 
 not well know for what I am to apologize to 
 Mr. Fulton ; but as I am willing to do my ut- 
 most to assist his restoration to equanimity, I 
 will aver, most solemnly, that I never, evea 
 in imagination, applied to him the idea of a 
 charmer or tempter. They are synonymous 
 terms, you know," with a significant glance 
 around the circle, " and that I see not by what 
 possibility he could suspect me of supposing 
 him to imbody a multitude in his person." 
 
 Arthur's whole manner, and especially the 
 look at George Fulton's rather diminutive per- 
 son which accompanied the concluding remark, 
 made this seeming apology an insult. It is, 
 however, the most difficult thing in the world 
 to fix a quarrel on a man for his looks or man- 
 ner, and George Fulton bit his lip with an anger to 
 which he could give no vent in words, while the 
 rest of the circle bit theirs to repress the mirth 
 to which Fulton's flashing eye forbade expres- 
 sion. Frederic alone was neither angry nor 
 mirthful. He was deeply grieved, and looked 
 with sad reproach on Arthur, who, however, saw 
 not the glance, for he studiously averted his 
 eyes from his friend. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then 
 George Fulton, commanding himself, said, with 
 a haughty bow, " Since Mr. Macon declares 
 that his language had no reference to me, I can, 
 of course, have no cause of complaint with him ;" 
 and, withdrawing from the table around which 
 they had been seated, he retired immediately 
 to his hammock. 
 
 From this time Arthur Macon and George Ful- 
 ton were never very good friends. They had each 
 teen mortified by the other, and there had been 
 no frankness in their apologies. Had either of 
 them possessed magnanimity enough to come 
 forward when anger that shortlived madness 
 had passed by, and say to the other what 
 each really felt that he had been unjust, all 
 would have been well. But already the world's 
 false maxims had acquired control over them, 
 and each refrained from doing what he knew to 
 l>e right, for/ear mark the word for fear he 
 should be thought to shrink from meeting the 
 consequences of his words. 
 
 But it was not among his companions that 
 Frederic found his adherence to the promises 
 which he had given his mother most severely 
 tested. 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 One day, a gentleman who had been inti- 
 mately acquainted with Colonel Stanley, dining 
 with Captain B., and inquiring of him' respect- 
 ing the family of his brother-in-law, was told 
 that he had a son on board. Mr. Manvers 
 this was the gentleman's name requested to 
 see him, and Captain B. sent his steward to in- 
 invite Frederic to dine in his cabin. In order 
 to avoid all suspicion of partiality, he had made 
 it a rule to invite some other midshipman with 
 Frederic; and he now desired him to bring Arthur 
 Macon along with him. They came, and were in- 
 troduced to Mr. Manvers, who won Frederic's 
 heart by his high encomiums on, and warm ex- 
 pressions of regard for his father. 
 
 Mr. Manvers and Colonel Stanley had been 
 college friends, and many an anecdote did he 
 remember and repeat of their gay pranks. " So 
 you have never heard your father speak of these 
 things ! Ah ! we none of us like our children 
 to hear of such frolics : it would be too much 
 of a license to them to do the same; and yet I 
 would not give much for the man who had 
 always been sedate. Here, B., pass us that 
 decanter ; let me have the pleasure of a glass of 
 wine with Mr. Stanley ; we will drink to your 
 father's heahh." 
 
 Mr. Manvers held the decanter elevated over 
 Frederic's glass, while Captain B., who had 
 been a little annoyed by his nephew's singularity 
 on this point, looked on with a triumphant, and 
 Arthur Macon with a roguish smile ; for both 
 thought that he could not refuse the reciproca- 
 tion of such a courtesy from an elderly gentleman 
 like Mr. Manvers, and a friend of his father. 
 But Frederic rested his hand upon his glass, and, 
 looking at Mr. Manvers, said steadily, though 
 his very brow crimsoned with the effort, "It 
 must be in cold water on my part, then, Mr. 
 Manvers, for I drink no wine.' 
 
 There was an almost imperceptible elevation 
 of the eyebrows in Mr. Manvers's face, and the 
 slightest possible curl of the lip, as, turning.to 
 the other side of the table, he asked, " And is 
 Mr. Macon equally abstemious ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Arthur, quickly, as if defend- 
 ing himself from a disgraceful imputation ; I 
 consider it a positive contempt of Providence to 
 refuse a good glass of wine wherever or when- 
 ever it may present itself." 
 
 " Then, sir, permit me the pleasure." 
 
 Arthur acknowledged the compliment and 
 drank the wine, and, after a little chat with him, 
 .Mr. Manvers rose from table. 
 
 Before the young men left the cabin, Mr. 
 Manvers took some cards from his pocket, say- 
 ing, " Here are some cards, young gentlemen, 
 which Miss Manvers placed in my hands this 
 morning. They are cards of invitation to a little 
 fete which is to be given on her birthday. Your 
 acceptance of them will give her pleasure, and, 
 if you have any companions whom you would 
 like to bring with you, I should be happy to see 
 them. How many cards shall I give you ?" he
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 asked, looking smilingly up at the waiting 
 youths. 
 
 " Four if you please, sir," said Frederic. 
 " Provided Captain B. will give us all leave," 
 added Arthur, with a sly glance at his com- 
 mander. 
 
 "Ah ! Mr. Macon, you want to get the wea- 
 ther gauge of me, I see. Take the cards, sir, 
 take the cards, and we'll talk of the leave after- 
 wards.'' 
 
 " Well, here are four cards of invitation for 
 the evening; but we expect to receive a few 
 intimate friends at dinner, and among these I 
 should be very happy to see the son of my old 
 friend Stanley, and you too, Mr. Macon. We 
 will try not to be too gay for you, Stanley, and 
 we will let you drink water if you insist on it." 
 " I thank you, sir, for that last permission ; 
 and I assure you, you will not find it easy to be 
 too gay for me." 
 
 Frederic spoke with a smile, but there was 
 some sadness in it ; for he felt that his father's 
 old friend considered him as a pragmatical 
 Puritan, and that he looked more lovingly on 
 Arthur. Frederic was not jealous; but his 
 heart had warmed towards one who loved his 
 distant father, and he would have liked to be 
 regarded by him. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TRIAL AND VICTORY. 
 
 Others were enticed by intemperance to ramble 
 in search of those fruits that hung over the rocks, 
 and filled the air with their fragrance. JOHNSON. 
 
 The cards of invitation for the fete that was 
 to be given on Ella Manvers's birthday had been 
 issued a week beforehand. Great was the pre- 
 paration of midshipman and lieutenant on board 
 Captain B.'s ship, for they had been assured on 
 every side that they would meet the elite of 
 Louisianian society at the house of Mr. Manvers. 
 
 This gentleman, himself a native of Connecti- 
 cut, had sought and won the lady who was now 
 Mrs. Manvers while she was at a northern 
 boarding-school. She was the only child of a 
 wealthy planter, and her parents' consent to 
 their marriage could only be obtained on the 
 condition that Mr. Manvers should adopt her 
 home as his own. This really involved no great 
 sacrifice on his part, as his father and mother 
 had been long dead, and his only sister was 
 married. Yet there is something in the place 
 which we have been accustomed to call home 
 which exercises an indescribable influence over 
 the heart; and young Manvers. as he looked 
 for the last time at the rustic farm-house 
 which had sheltered his infancy and the old age 
 of his parents at the orchard which had been 
 the scene of many a boyish frolic and caught a 
 glimpse of the steeple of the church ia whose 
 
 shadow his father and mother were lying in their 
 last, dreamless sleep, felt a pang which scarce 
 the remembrance of her who awaited but his 
 coming to become his bride could assuage. He 
 comforted himself, however, with the thought 
 that in the summer wanderings to which the 
 unhealthy climate of Louisiana would condemn 
 them, he might visit the old homestead with 
 his Eliza, and should they survive her parents, 
 they might return to it, and grow old amid its 
 hallowed scenes. 
 
 But alas ! for the stability of man. A year 
 afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Manvers, leaving her 
 father and mother at Saratoga, came home, as 
 he impressively said ; but his eye had become 
 accustomed to objects on a far different scale of 
 magnitude. Compared with the extensive plan- 
 tation of his father-in-law, the farm appeared 
 a patch ; the large and handsome dwelling-house 
 at Laurel Grove, and its well-appointed out- 
 buildings, made the neat and comfortable, but 
 small farm-house seem a cabin. Their visit was 
 short. 
 
 Mr. Manvers had returned to this once-che- 
 rished spot but once since, and then unaccom- 
 panied by his wife; and it was now several 
 years since he had made it a present to his 
 sister's second son, who was named after him. 
 
 Few would have blamed him for this incon- 
 stancy to the attachments of his boyhood who 
 had seen Laurel Grove. This place was situated 
 on the Mississippi, a few miles above New Or- 
 leans, on a bluff rising from sixteen to twenty 
 feet above the river, except where, to form a 
 landing-place, it had been cut down into a 
 gradual slope, and a better soil having been laid 
 over its clay, had "been planted with the short, 
 thick Bermuda grass, the fine fibres of whose 
 roots, becoming closely matted, present a better 
 defence against the incursions of the water than 
 the roots of large trees would do. The house 
 stood back about three hundred yards from this 
 landing-place. It was so much elevated above 
 the ground, that from the piazza, which ex- 
 tended around it on all sides, you could com- 
 mand a view of the river for miles of its course. 
 In front of the house was a court-yard, in which 
 choice shrubs and rare flowers were tastefully 
 disposed, charming the eye with their beauty, 
 and filling the air with rich and delicate per- 
 fume. The piazzas were shaded with a screen 
 of honeysuckle, jessamine, and eglantine. At 
 the back of the house lay extensive gardens, 
 orchard, and greenhouse ; and there was scarce 
 a luxury which wealth might win from a fertile 
 soil and sunny skies that was not there. 
 
 But we have not yet named that which gave 
 its chief charm to Laurel Grove in the eye of a 
 lover of nature its beautiful natural growth. 
 On a smooth and level lawn were scattered 
 clumps of trees, which, though carefully under- 
 brushed, were left themselves untouched. Here 
 the oak threw its branches far and wide in all 
 ~>the fantastic freedom of nature, and there the
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 laurel rose up a perfect cone, the gray moss of 
 the one waving its sombre drapery over the sil- 
 very leaves and magnificent snow-white flowers 
 of the other. 
 
 But those who have partaken of the hospitali- 
 ties of Laurel Grove will be disposed to think 
 that we have already too long neglected the 
 fairest flower in its domain the petted, but not 
 spoiled, Ella Manvers. 
 
 An only child and grandchild, Ella had learned 
 from dictionaries, but never from life, the mean- 
 ing of the word control. Her very governess 
 had been her playmate ; and as she was edu- 
 cated entirely at 'home, it was fortunate that 
 her inquisitive mind found pleasure in the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge, for she would else have 
 remained ignorant. 
 
 'We would not call Ella Manvers a beauty. 
 No one, in describing her, would think of 
 Grecian contour, or exquisitely-arched brows, 
 or any of the set phrases of connoisseurship ; yet 
 uone looked at her who did not turn to look 
 again, and feel that on that young, guileless 
 brow still rested the light of Heaven, its pure 
 beam scarce dimmed by the dark shades of 
 earth. Ella's delicately, almost too delicately 
 fair complexion hair, of that pale chestnut 
 seldom found except in very young children, 
 falling in natural ringlets over her neck and 
 shoulders and form, graceful both in its out- 
 line and its movements, were prettinesses which 
 might please the eye for a moment, yet win no 
 after-thought. But her irresistible attraction 
 lay in a countenance which, in repose, bore a 
 striking resemblance in its gentle seriousness, its 
 lovingness of expression, to that which painters 
 have given to the beloved disciple, and when 
 gay, was lighted up with such a spirit of glee, 
 that she might have sat for the portrait of some 
 " tricksy sprite." 
 
 And tliis countenance was a faithful repre- 
 sentative of Ella's spirit. The child of sunshine 
 and flowers, there was danger that life would 
 seem to her a sport, the earth a playground; 
 that the serious aims, the solemn results of her 
 being, would be shut from her view ; but He 
 who watches over the falling sparrow had not 
 left this lonely child without a teacher and a 
 guide. 
 
 \Ve have said that Mr. Manvers had won the 
 consent of his wife's parents to their marriage 
 only on condition of his residing with them 
 during their lives. In less than two years after 
 that marriage his father-in-law died. The 
 widowed Mrs. Delaneux continued to live with 
 her children, and if ever filial piety brought with 
 it a blessing, it was theirs ; for where such a 
 spirit as hers dwelt, peace and charity could 
 not but abide. A disposition naturally gentle 
 and generous had, in her, been elevated and re- 
 lined by religion religion, " pure and unde- 
 filed " by bigotry or sectarianism religion, 
 whose nature was expressed in one word, love 
 love to God, and to the creatures of His hand. 
 
 Age had come slowly aud stealthily upon her ; 
 but she was now seventy, and though her heart 
 was unchilled, and her mind still clear in its 
 perceptions, her h'mbs had become feeble, and 
 it was with slow and tottering steps, and sup- 
 ported by a stick, that at rare intervals, and in 
 tine weather, she moved about among the gar- 
 dens and shrubberies of Laurel Grove. Farther 
 than this she had not attempted to go for more 
 than a year, except once that an old and faith- 
 fully-attached servant asked on her deathbed to 
 see her " old missis." Then, leaning on the 
 arm of Mr. Manvers, she walked almost a quar- 
 ter of a mile, to the negro houses. 
 
 Ella Manvers, the youngest of many children, 
 and the only one who had survived infancy, was 
 to Mrs. Delaneux as the child of her old age: 
 from her lips had Ella received her religious 
 instructions, at her knee had she lisped her in- 
 fant prayer. The teachings of one so reverenced 
 and so loved could not be lightly regarded ; and 
 a deep sense of the value and truth of the 
 Christian religion, a profound prostration of 
 spirit before the Holy of Holies revealed in it, 
 were the earliest feelings of which Ella was 
 conscious. It was this which gave all it had of 
 earnestness to her character and seriousness to 
 her countenance this which counterbalanced 
 the influences whose tendencies were to make 
 her altogether a sportive, pretty trifler. Whe- 
 ther this religious sentiment would become a 
 religious principle, remained yet to be proved 
 by the experiences of life. At fourteen, little 
 can be asserted of the character of one whose 
 life has been an unclouded day. Mrs. Delaneux 
 sometimes feared that when she was removed, 
 the influences which were opposed to her teach- 
 ings would prevail ; while Mr. Manvers drcad e d 
 lest this good mother-in-law, whom he loved 
 and respected too much to interfere with, should 
 transform his merry-hearted Ella into a stupid, 
 melancholy mope. 
 
 But stupidity and melancholy were banished 
 far from Laurel Grove on that twenty-eighth day 
 of October on which Ella Manvers attained her 
 fifteenth year. Through an atmosphere mild 
 and balmy as May the May of the poets the 
 sun looked down, unveiled by a cloud, upon 
 faces beaming like himself. Mr. Manvers roamed 
 from room to room, superintending all the ar- 
 rangements of the fete, which he had planned 
 himself, and declaring that he would for ones 
 have his own way, with an energy and frequency 
 which might have led the uninitiated to suppose 
 that he was thwarted and opposed at every step. 
 He would even have extended his jurisdiction 
 to Ella's dress ; but, aided by her mother, she 
 resisted his control, and presented herself to 
 him, just before their dinner guests began to 
 assemble, attired, with all her usual simplicity, 
 in a white muslin dress. Mr. Manvers felt quite 
 satisfied with her appearance ; and, as he pressed 
 a kiss upon her brow, parental tenderness
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 27 
 
 prompted something of grateful feeling to Him 
 from whom such a blessing was derived. 
 
 " Well, papa," said Ella, as they stood toge- 
 ther in the drawing-room, " whom have you 
 invited to dinner ?" 
 
 "Why, there are your grandmother's friends, 
 Dr. and Mrs. Cotton " 
 
 " Oh yes, I know Dr. and Mrs. Cottou and 
 Mary are coming, and I am very glad of it, for 
 they are my friends as well as grandmamma's." 
 " Very excellent people they are, my dear, and 
 I am always glad to see them. I do not believe 
 there is a better clergyman in the world than 
 Dr. Cotton." 
 
 " Well, but who else is coming, papa ?" 
 " Mr. Hanley and his daughter, and and 
 oh ! I forget how many from the city. But there 
 
 are my friend Captain B., from the ship , 
 
 and two of his midshipmen." 
 " Do they come to dinner ?" 
 " Yes. One of them, young Stanley, is the 
 son of one of my earliest friends, and he is a 
 fine-looking lad, and I liked him very much at 
 first." 
 
 " Only at first, papa ?" 
 
 " Why, Ella, I don't know where the fellow 
 has been living. His father is a colonel in the 
 array, and is, I know, in the very best society, 
 and yet would you believe it ? he refused to 
 take \vine with me." 
 
 " Refused to take wine with you ! Perhaps 
 he was not well." 
 
 " Perfectly. I tell you he is a fine, healthy- 
 looking young man." 
 
 "What could he have meant by it then, 
 papa?" 
 
 ' Why, some rigmarole, his uncle tells me, 
 which he has got in his head, about its being 
 wrong to drink ; but see what a quiz it must 
 make of him in society. Now I am willing, for 
 Stanley's sake, to take a little trouble with his 
 son in trying to get him over this notion. How 
 shall I manage it, Ella?" 
 
 " .Manage what ?" asked Mrs. Mauvers, who 
 just then entered. 
 
 Frederic's delinquencies were detailed to her. 
 " It must be bashfulness," said she, when the 
 narration was completed. " Leave him to me. 
 I wiii get him over it." 
 
 " I will willingly leave it to you," said Mr. 
 llanvers; "hut, depend on it, there is no hash- 
 fulness in the case. He is not in the least shy. 
 But here he comes to speak for himself, for 
 that, I am sure, is a man-of-war's boat," point- 
 ing to one which had just touched at the 
 landing. 
 
 Ella looked at it for a moment, and then 
 crossed the room to tell her grandmother of 
 what they had been talking. While she does 
 so, let us remark, that these events occurred 
 before the era of temperance societies at a 
 period when an invitation to drink was amou^ 
 the first courtesies offered by a gentleman to his 
 guest, and when the refusal to accept this cour- 
 
 tesy was considered the greatest solecism in 
 good manners. Probably even the charitable 
 and gentle Mrs. Delaneux thought it was not 
 very polite" in a very young man like Frederic 
 Stanley to decline an attention from one so 
 much older than himself as Mr. Manvers. But 
 they had little time to talk or think about it 
 after the landing of the boat, for Captain B. 
 soon made his appearance, accompanied by his 
 young companions. The quiet and gentlemanly 
 self-possession evinced by Frederic at his en- 
 trance and introduction almost made Mrs. Man- 
 vers give up her theory of bashfulness ; while 
 the reverence with which he looked at and spoke 
 to her grandmother made Ella feel sure that he 
 must have some very good reason for his pecu- 
 liarities, and satisfied Mrs. Delaneux that at 
 least he was not deficient in that good feeling 
 from which true politeness springs. 
 
 Guest after guest arrived. At length the 
 number was complete, and dinner was an- 
 nounced. Frederic was standing near Ella at 
 the moment this was done, and he had the 
 honour of leading her into the dining-room. 
 He was, of course, seated by her at table ; an 
 arrangement which Mrs. Manvers saw with 
 pleasure, because it facilitated her plan for over- 
 coming this singular instance of mauraise fonte, 
 as she considered it, in one whose manners were 
 in other respects remarkably good. 
 
 On the other side of Ella were seated Arthur 
 Macon and her friend Mary Cotton. These young 
 people conversed with ease and playfulness, and, 
 except when some one of the company would, 
 in compliment to her birthday, call on her to 
 take wine with them, Ella would forget that 
 there was any thing about Frederic to excite 
 wonder. Mrs. Manvers, however, did not for- 
 get; and before the last course of meats was 
 removed from table, she said, " Mr. Stanley, you 
 take no wine. Is it not within your reach :" 
 
 " I do not wish any, I thank you, ma'am," 
 said Frederic. 
 
 " Not wish any !" repeated Mrs. Manvers, 
 with apparent surprise. " Ella, my love young 
 ladies may take some liberties on their birth- 
 days fill Mr. Stanley's glass. He will not 
 refuse to drink your health to-day." 
 
 Frederic certainly felt very awkwardly ; his 
 resolution had almost failed him ; but his eye 
 fell upon his ring, and then came the thought, 
 " If I conquer now, I am safe for ever ;" and he 
 was nerved again. He had looked down but an 
 instant, and the flush which that instant's em- 
 barrassment had called up still burned on his 
 check, as, looking with a smile at Mrs. Manvers, 
 he said, " Certainly not, madam ; to her health 
 and happiness, in the only drink which deserves 
 to be so honoured the drink of Paradise;" 
 and, bowing to Ella, he raised the glass of 
 water beside him to his lips. 
 
 " No hashfulness there," thought Mrs. Man- 
 vers, as, glancing at her husband, she caught 
 his halt-triumphant smile.
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 Arthur Macon, too, had observed this by- 
 scene with nn little interest, and, half provoked 
 by its conclusion, he said, " Miss Manvers, what 
 do you think of my friend's gallantry ?" 
 
 Frederic looked earnestly at her ; she hesi- 
 tated, and he said, " Miss Manvers would not, 
 I am sure, accept a compliment paid her at the 
 expense of her father. I declined to take wine 
 with Mr. Manvers, you know." 
 
 " But why ?" said Ella. Then, colouring, she 
 added quickly, " I did not mean to ask such a 
 question, Mr. Stanley. I I dare say you have 
 a very good reason." 
 
 " I have a reason which I think very good," 
 said Frederic, lowering his voice so as only to 
 be heard by her ; not a very difficult manoeuvre 
 to accomplish amid the rattling of knives and 
 forks, plates, dishes, and glasses. " I have a 
 reason which I think very good, and I should 
 be much gratified if any of Mr. Manvers's 
 family took interest enough in the son of his old 
 friend to permit me to trouble them with it." 
 
 He paused, but Ella begged he would go on. 
 " I should not have asked your reason, Mr. 
 Stanley," said she, "if 1 had thought a mo- 
 ment ; but if you are willing to tell it, I shall 
 be very glad to listen, for it has puzzled us all 
 very much." 
 
 Frederic, raising his hand, showed the plain 
 gold ring which now encircled the next to the 
 smallest finger, and said, " That ring, Miss Man- 
 vers, was placed on my hand many years since 
 by my mother, to remind me never to turn aside 
 from that which I felt right from any fear not 
 even the fear of that which we all dread most, 
 ridicule or contempt. When I parted from this 
 dear mother, I promised her that I would never 
 put the wine-cup to my lip. Should I be right 
 to break that promise ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no !" said Ella, eagerly ; " but" 
 and she hesitated. 
 
 " But what, Miss Manvers ?" 
 
 " Might you not, by only seeming to take 
 wine, keep your promise to your mother, and 
 yet avoid what must be a painful degree of 
 singularity ?" 
 
 " Oh, no !" said Frederic ; " I must not even 
 seem to relinquish my principles from any fear 
 of others." 
 
 " Oh ! I understand it all now," said Ella, 
 with animation ; " this is what grandmamma 
 calls moral courage, and she says it is the best 
 of all courage. Oh, Mr. Stanley ! grandmamma 
 will love you dearly." Agreeable as this as- 
 surance was, perhaps Frederic would rather have 
 been told that the granddaughter would love 
 him dearly. 
 
 When "the ladies had left the table, Frederic 
 ran the gauntlet of argument and ridicule for 
 what seemed his strange opinions, and Arthur 
 Macon became a general favourite for his very 
 decided dissent from them. He was frequently 
 invited to drink, and did so with less caution 
 than he usually practised, in his earnest desire 
 
 to show that he was in no degree tainted with 
 the quizzical notions of his friend. The effect 
 of these frequent potations was soon visible in 
 his excited manner, and the early adjournment 
 from the table caused by the evening's enter- 
 tainment was scarcely less acceptable to Frederic 
 for his friend's sake than his own. 
 
 Frederic, on entering the drawing-room, 
 looked around for Ella Manvers, with whom he 
 seemed to himself to have established some sort 
 of sympathy by the communication of his mo- 
 tives. She was at the farther end of the apart- 
 ment, and so surrounded by her young acquaint- 
 ances that it was long ere he could reach her 
 side. On perceiving him near her, she ex- 
 claimed, "Oh, Mr. Stanley, I have :epeated to 
 grandmamma what you told me, and siie thinks 
 you are very right to keep your promise, and 
 she praises you so much ! I told you she would 
 love you dearly." 
 
 " I am very much obliged by her good 
 opinion," said Frederic, with a smile. 
 
 The really beautiful gardens of Laurel Grove 
 were illuminated with festoons of coloured 
 lamps. A fine band of music was stationed in 
 the balcony of the house. The company dis- 
 persed themselves in groups through the garden 
 walks, and occasionally returned to the house 
 to partake of refreshments, spread on a table 
 which was placed in one of the wide piazzas, 
 enclosed for the evening with a rough lattice- 
 work, and decorated with boughs of the laurel 
 and cedar, and wreaths of the jessamine. With 
 these refreshments wine was profusely served; 
 and we think, before the evening was over, there 
 were few present who would not have preferred 
 Frederic's natural, unstimulated cheerfulness, to 
 the uproarious hilarity of his brother midship- 
 men. And when Arthur Macon, towards the 
 close of the evening, addressed the shrinking 
 Ella in a tone of such rhapsodical compliment 
 that, half frightened and half ashamed, she re- 
 treated behind her mother, and then greeting 
 Mr. Manvers, who stood near, with a slap on 
 the back, and the familiar appellation of " old 
 boy," assured' him that he had " done the thing 
 handsomely " in the entertainment of the even- 
 ing, that gentleman would probably have ad- 
 mitted that it would have been better if the 
 young man had taken less wine. 
 
 Frederic was approaching Mr. Manvers to 
 make his adieu when this scene occurred. He 
 saw a cloud on his brow, and could not help 
 saying to him, as he glanced at his retreating 
 friend, " Mr. Manvers cannot, I am sure, regret 
 that the son of his old friend has not so forgot- 
 ten himself." 
 
 " No, young man," said Mr. Manvers. with 
 something of irritation in his tone for we none 
 of us like to be proved wrong " no ; but thera 
 is moderation in all things." 
 
 " I acknowledge it, Mr. Manvers ; but, sir, 
 let me say, in excuse at once for my friends 
 and myself, a youth who is sent from home,
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 and left in all matters of individual conduct to 
 his own control, at an age when others are kept 
 under the influence of parents or friends, ac- 
 quires his habits before he has learned to think, 
 before he knows the meaning of the word mo- 
 deration. Believe me, sir, for such a one, the 
 only security is abstinence. Touch not ! taste 
 not ! must be his watchword, if he would be 
 safe." 
 
 " Perhaps yon are right, Stanley, perhaps you 
 are right. At least I am glad you are not like 
 those young men," added Mr. Manvers, as a 
 burst of boisterous and senseless laughter, from 
 the group of departing midshipmen, reached his 
 ear. 
 
 " Do not judge them hardly, sir," said Fre- 
 deric. " They are very clever fellows in'most 
 respects, and are generally moderate ; they are 
 not accustomed to Champagne in such quan- 
 tities as you have served out to them this 
 evening." 
 
 A few days after this entertainment, a group 
 of gentlemen, of whom Mr. Manvers was one, 
 stood on the shore at New Orleans, watching 
 an outward-bound ship, as, with all her sails 
 spread to a favouring breeze, she was rapidly 
 leaving the city. The officers on her quarter- 
 deck were yet visible ; and as Mr. Manvers 
 waved his handkerchief, three of them stepped 
 to the side of the ship, and taking off their hats, 
 flourished them in return ; while one of the 
 three, taking a trumpet from the hand of a 
 person near him, shouted through it an adieu, 
 which came faintly to Mr. Manvers's ear. This 
 was Captain B. : the others were Arthur Macon 
 and Frederic Stanley. 
 
 " Where are they going ?" asked one of those 
 on shore, addressing himself to Mr. Mauvers. 
 
 " To the Mediterranean," was the reply. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A FRIEND IX NEED. 
 
 I saw him beat the surges under him, 
 And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, 
 Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
 The surge most swollen that met him. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 On a lovely April morning, about eighteen 
 months after the events recorded in the last 
 chapter, the ship lay off the little town of Adra, 
 on the coast of Spain. Built immediately on 
 the shore on which break the blue waves of the 
 Mediterranean, this town has no harbour, and 
 is seldom visited by vessels of war. Captain B. 
 was on his way home from Port Mahon to 
 Gibraltar, where he expected to receive des- 
 patches probably containing his recal to Ame- 
 rica, when a long continuance of head-winds 
 and the want of water caused him to make this 
 
 unusual port. The ship had dropped anchor 
 within a mile of the town, as near an approach 
 as was judged safe to a coast which would afford 
 no protection in case of sudden storm. Nothing 
 but a sailor's experience would then have 
 thought any such caution necessary, for the 
 sea was perfectly calm, and scarce a cloud 
 floated over the blue sky. 
 
 The officers were very hospitably received by 
 the inhabitants of Adra, and the antiquities of 
 its neighbourhood having been exhibited to some 
 of them, they returned to the ship with such 
 tales of Moorish castles and Egyptian walls, 
 that Frederic Stanley and Arthur Macon, who 
 had not been of the party, determined to see 
 them before they sailed. Accordingly, on the 
 next day, they solicited leave of absence, and 
 going up to the town with two of the lieute- 
 nants, who had engaged to dine with the Ame- 
 rican consul, they soon procured mules and 
 muleteers who would act as their guides, and 
 set out on their excursion. 
 
 One castle had been examined, and proceed- 
 ing several miles farther, they were in sight of 
 another yet more remarkable, when their atten- 
 tion was attracted to the beautiful effect pro- 
 duced on the landscape by the rapid alternation 
 of light and shade caused by the misty clouds 
 now driving quickly across the sky. They had 
 scarcely reached the castle when the mist be- 
 came rain. Unwilling to relinquish any part of 
 their promised pleasure, they determined to 
 await there the termination of what they hoped 
 was but a passing shower. For more than an 
 hour they remained, their hopes changing with 
 the changing sky, which now showed a gleam 
 of light, and anon was obscured by thicker dark- 
 ness. At length, however, the rain fell so 
 steadily, and there were so many indications of 
 a coming storm, that they judged it wiser to 
 hasten back to the port, lest the fear of worse 
 weather should cause the other officers to return 
 to the ship without them. The wind continued 
 to increase during their ride, and as it blew 
 directly in their faces, their progress was slow. 
 When they arrived at the hotel which had been 
 appointed as a rendezvous for their party, they 
 found their friends already gone. A note was 
 awaiting them, from the oldest lieutenant of the 
 party, in which, after saying that he did not 
 like the appearance of the weather well enough 
 to trust it longer, he added " that the boat 
 should be sent back for them, with orders to 
 wait as long as it seemed safe. Should they 
 not return to the port till this boat had again 
 left it, they must remain on shore till the storm 
 was over." 
 
 Frederic and Arthur went immediately, on 
 reading this note, to the shore to look out for 
 their boat, scarcely expecting, however, to find 
 it still awaiting them. As soon as they were in 
 sight of the sea, they perceived it already about 
 twenty yards from the land, the boatmen 
 evidently labouring violently against a heavy
 
 30 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 sea and powerful wind. They had, indeed, 
 waited to the last moment of safety, and, by 
 the looks cast towards the shore, seemed still 
 unwilling to leave those for whom they had 
 been sent. As soon as they saw the two young 
 men they rented on their oars, while a rapid 
 consultation was held, one of them pointing to 
 a quarter of the heavens at which the clouds 
 seemed darker and more threatening than else- 
 where. This was but for a minute, and then 
 the boat was put about, and rowed vigorously 
 and rapidly, with wind and sea now in their 
 favour, back to the beach. Frederic and Arthur 
 had shouted to them to keep on, but their voices, 
 in such a wind, did not reach half way to the 
 boat, and if those in her saw the effort, it pro- 
 bably only quickened their movements in re- 
 turning. The men touched their hats as the 
 boat struck the shore, and all, in a breath, an- 
 nounced that the wind was rising every moment. 
 The oldest of them, a man who was known to 
 be an excellent sailor, and had been much in 
 this sea, added that he should hardly think it 
 safe now to venture. 
 
 " Why, the ship lies little more than half a 
 mile offj" said Arthur Macon. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the seaman ; " but, then, 
 half a mile takes us into the very roughest of 
 the sea, and right in the teeth of the wind as 
 it blows now ; and we shall soon have more of 
 it, too, from that cloud," pointing to the one to 
 which he had already directed the attention of 
 his companions. 
 
 He had not yet lowered the hand with which 
 he was pointing, when the already whitened 
 sea was tossed into the wildest uproar, and the 
 gale became so violent that to go or not to go 
 was no longer a question. The boat was drawn 
 up and secured for the night ; the men, having 
 found shelter in a house hard by, were ordered 
 to hold themselves in readiness to leave when- 
 ever the storm abated, and Arthur and Frederic 
 returned to their hotel. 
 
 Nothing could be more dreary than their 
 prospect both without and within the house, 
 where little comfort and less amusement were 
 presented. They experienced all the misery of 
 having nothing to do, and, before the evening 
 had passed, envied their brother officers their 
 wet and stormy watch upon the ship's deck. 
 At length they determined to go to bed and 
 sleep off the remaining hours of inaction to 
 which the storm might condemn them. A 
 waiter answered their call, and prepared to 
 show them to their apartments. Arthur looked 
 at his watch : it was only eight. With a faint 
 hope of discovering some Vtter pastime than 
 sleep, he inquired of the attendant, in Spanish, 
 " Have you a billiard-table ?" 
 
 " No," senor, no billiard-tables, but plenty of 
 card-tables." 
 
 " For what game ?" 
 
 For every game. Will not the sonor come 
 and see ?" 
 
 " Come, Frederic," said Arthur, in English ; 
 " you cannot think there is any thing wrong in 
 looking on." 
 
 " To me it would offer no amusement. 
 Arthur," said Frederic, ' and to you it would 
 be dangerous. We shall probably be called 
 early, for I think the storm is even now 
 abating; let us go to bed." 
 
 " To bed at eight o'clock !" exclaimed Arthur, 
 with as much apparent astonishment as if he 
 had not just before made the same proposition 
 himself. " What ! you will go ?" he continued, 
 as he saw Frederic lighting his lamp. " Weil, 
 good night. I will look on at the card-players 
 a while before I follow you." 
 
 " Take, care," said Frederic, smiling signifi- 
 cantly, " that you do nothing more than look 
 on." 
 
 Frederic was long kept awake by anxious 
 thoughts about Arthur, who had more than once 
 lost large sums at cards ; but he slept at length, 
 and so soundly that his friend found it no easy 
 matter to awake him when he entered his room 
 about three o'clock in the morning. Repeated 
 calls having at length aroused Frederic, he 
 started up, and saw Arthur standing by his bed 
 with a light in his hand. 
 
 " Fred, I am glad to see you open your eyes. 
 Why, I almost began to think you were dead, 
 and I could not spare you very well just now, 
 for I have come to bonow some money from 
 you." 
 
 " Arthur ! what have you been doing with 
 yourself all this time ? It is morning, is it not ? 
 And what do you want with money ?" 
 
 "Never mind what I want with it, Fred: 
 that is my business. You lend it to me till we 
 get back to the ship, and the purser shall pay 
 you." 
 
 By this time Frederic's recollection had re- 
 turned. He remembered that Arthur bad left 
 him to go to a card-table, and he conjectured at 
 once that his demand for money had some con- 
 nexion with that. "Arthur," he replied, "if 
 you want money for any purpose but gambling 
 if it be to pay your debts, even though those 
 debts have been contracted at cards all I have 
 is yours as much as it is my own. But if it is 
 to gamble still longer that you want it " 
 
 " Say no more, sir," said Arthur, haugluiir: 
 " spare me the indignity of hearing your refusal. 
 I only asked a loan for a few hours, a favour 
 which I would not deny to a stranger," and 
 Arthur turned away, and walked to a distant 
 window. 
 
 Frederic had noticed that Arthur's face was 
 much flushed, and this, together with his un- 
 usual irritability, had made him suspect that 
 he had been drinking more freely than be was 
 accustomed to do, a suspicion which his un- 
 steady movements now corroborated. 
 
 A few muttering, indistinct sentences were 
 spoken by Arthur Macon at the window, which 
 Frederic felt glad he did not hear, as they were
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO 
 
 not probably agreeable. At length, however. 
 Arthur turned sharply round, saying, " I think, 
 Mr. Stanley, we shall only be obeying the or- 
 ders given us in going at once to the ship. 
 There is certainly nothing in the weather to 
 prevent us." 
 
 "But, Arthur, you have had no rest, and 
 there is nothing to make it necessary for us to 
 go before daylight." 
 
 " 1 do not know what you may think neces- 
 sary, Mr. Stanley, but I know that our orders 
 were to go as soon as we could. AYe can go 
 now, and I shall obey them." He paused a 
 moment, and then added, " Do you intend to 
 accompany me, sir ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Arthur, if you insist on going, I 
 will go with you; but I still think you had 
 better wait ior daylight. There must be a very 
 heavy sea running. It will be hard rowing for 
 the men; and I should judge, from the sounds 
 without, there is still too much wind to trust 
 our sail." 
 
 " If you are afraid, sir," with a sneer, " you 
 can stay, and I will report that you did not 
 think it safe. I do, and I shall go." 
 
 Frederic saw that all argument was useless 
 with Arthur in his excited state, and he only 
 replied, " I will be ready in a few minutes," as, 
 throwing himself from the bed, he commenced 
 a hasty toilet. That completed, he followed 
 Arthur down stairs. 
 
 Our readers must not suppose that intempe- 
 rance in drinking was habitual with Arthur 
 Macon. It was not ; but he who drinks at all 
 is always in danger of excess, and never in so 
 much danger as at the card-table, where depres- 
 sion at one moment impels him to take the 
 stimulus to which, at the next, elation gives 
 double power. 
 
 Arthur's rapid walk to the beach did not, as 
 may well be supposed, at all tend to abate his 
 excitement ; and when Frederic had, with some 
 difficulty, collected their men, he perceived with 
 pain that, spite of all his efforts to shield his 
 friend, his condition was evident to them. The 
 view which presented itself from the beach was 
 by no means inviting. It had ceased to rain, 
 and the moonbeams broke faintly through the 
 watery clouds which still covered the face of the 
 sky ; but the waves were yet capped with foam 
 and breaking heavily upon the shore, and the 
 wind, though greatly abated, was still, as Fre- 
 deric had supposed, too high to permit any 
 thought of raising a sail in so small a boat as 
 theirs without great risk. Frederic would have 
 raadc a last effort to dissuade Arthur from go- 
 ing, but his countenance and manner showed 
 110 signs of yielding ; and as he had no authority 
 to detain him, and had determined not to let 
 him go alone, he thought it unwise to renew 
 t'ae argument in the presence of their men. As 
 the boat was about to be shoved off, Frederic 
 sprang in, and placed himself at the helm. Ar- 
 thur followed him. The men took their oars ; 
 
 hut with all their efforts they went but slowly 
 through the water. Great as were their efforts, 
 however, and little as they accomplished by 
 them, they were not more pleased than Frederic 
 when Arthur Macon proposed unfurling the 
 sail. 
 
 Averse as Frederic was to draw attention to 
 his friend, he could not consent to this, and he 
 said, with an effort to speak lightly, " Come, 
 come, Arthur, we bear no charmed lives ; it is 
 bad enough to insist on going at all in such 
 weather to sail is impossible." 
 
 " Nothing is impossible to a strong will," ex- 
 claimed Arthur, in an elevated voice, and with 
 theatrical emphasis and gesture. " Let go that 
 sail, sir," he continued, in a tone of command, 
 to one of the men. The man hesitatingly moved 
 to obey him. Frederic felt that enough per- 
 haps too much had already been sacrificed to 
 Arthur's feeling. Could the sail have been 
 raised with perfect safety, it would have been 
 of little advantage to them with the wind in its 
 present quarter, but the violence of the wind, 
 the state of the sea every thing in their situa- 
 tion made the attempt to raise it so perilous that 
 only the maddest recklessness could have sanc- 
 tioned it. The safety of all in that boat, there- 
 fore, now depended on Frederic's firmness and 
 decision. These thoughts had probably passed 
 rapidly through his mind while the man to 
 whom Arthur had addressed himself was draw- 
 ing in his oar and rising from his seat, for, ere 
 he had taken a step forward, Frederic shouted, 
 " Touch not the sail ; a thread of canvass would 
 be more than we could bear." 
 
 His tones startled all who heard him, accus- 
 tomed as they were to his usually gentle manner. 
 Even the intemperate Arthur was checked by 
 it, and gazed on him for an instant in speech- 
 less surprise. But this was only for an instant; 
 then he exclaimed, " Do you mean to abet 
 mutiny, sir?" 
 
 Frederic noticed him not, except by saying to 
 the man, " Take your oar, sir ; I will bear you 
 blameless." 
 
 " I say that sail shall be unfurled," exclaimed 
 the enraged Ai thur. 
 
 " And I say it shall not," rejoined Frederic, in 
 equally decided, though calmer tones. 
 
 " That shall soon be tried, for I will do it 
 myself." 
 
 Arthur started forward ; but we have already 
 said that his movements were unsteady; the 
 boat, too, had, during t he confusion of the last 
 few moments, been suffered to swing round in 
 a position which left her broadside exposed to 
 the waves, and when Arthur rose she was lean- 
 ing fearfully ; he made one step forward stag- 
 gered strove in vain to recover himself, and, 
 ere a hand could be stretched out, he was in 
 the sea. 
 
 There are moments in which action follows 
 thought so instantaneously that it seems but its 
 shadow. This, with Frederic Stanley, was such
 
 32 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 a moment. Arthur had disappeared immedi- 
 ately ; but, knowing him te be an expert swim- 
 mer', and trusting that his immersion would 
 sober him, he doubted not that he would soon 
 rise again, aud nearer the shore, as the sea was 
 driving in. He had scarce touched the water 
 ere Frederic had cried to the oarsmen, " Hold 
 on," while his gaze was rivetred on the waves, 
 at the point where he thought it most probable 
 Arthur would reappear. 
 
 Another instant, an instant in which, to Fre- 
 deric, ages seemed concentrated, and the boat's 
 head was rapidly turned landward, as again his 
 voice was heard : " There he is row for your 
 lives." With what straining intensity was Fre- 
 deric's gaze fixed on that one dark object in the 
 waste of waters. They are on the spot; but 
 where is that from which he has never removed 
 hin eye, and which was even now visible ? 
 Disappeared ! Then on this very spot must he 
 have sunk so near the shore it cannot he 
 very deep there is hope yet. Ere these 
 thoughts could have formed themselves into 
 language, Frederic's coat and shoes were off, 
 and, crying " Keep her as she is," he had 
 plunged beneath the waves. He soon rose 
 again, as Arthur had done, nearer the shore ; 
 but, unlike him, he did not even try to reach 
 the boat, for he knew that in so doing he would 
 only have exhausted himself, as he had done, in 
 vain struggles. Instead of this, he limited his 
 efforts to keeping himself, and what he some- 
 times feared was his lifeless burden, afloat, suf- 
 fering the current to drift them passively on. 
 The moon was now shining brightly. They 
 were quickly seen. Then a few seconds brought 
 the boat near them. Friendly hands were ex- 
 tended, the senseless Arthur was lifted in, and, 
 with slight assistance, Frederic followed. He 
 looked for an instant to the town, then to the 
 ship, and, with the promptness with which all 
 his movements during this eventful night had 
 been marked, silently turned the boat's head 
 towards the last, and in feebler, but yet impres- 
 sive accents, said, " Now, my men, his lite is 
 in your oars." 
 
 Frederic knew that, though the town was 
 nearer, he would probably be much longer in 
 obtaining the necessary aid for Arthur there 
 than in getting him on board the ship, where 
 every effort would at once be made to restore 
 him. He spread over him his own dry coat, 
 and more than one pea-jacket was soon care- 
 fully wrapped around him, while every oar was 
 pulled as if not only his life, but all their lives, 
 depended on the vigour of then- strokes. In 
 fifteen minutes they w ere at the ship's side. 
 
 The consternation of those on deck may be 
 readily imagined when the seemingly lifeless 
 Arthur was brought up between one of the 
 sailors and the dripping and half-disrobed Fre- 
 deric. All felt, however, that there was no time 
 to be wasted in asking questions. The ship's 
 surgeon was called, aud every measure at once 
 
 resorted to for restoring suspended animation. 
 Arthur had been but a short time immersed, 
 and the anxious spectators were soon relieved 
 by seeing the colour returning to his face. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Stanley, 1 will be obliged to 
 you to give some account of this affair. What 
 urgent necessity sent you from the shore at such 
 an hour, when, by waiting only till daylight, 
 you would have had a smooth sea? You appear 
 to have been overboard as well as Mr. Macon, 
 and it certainly seems that neither of you were 
 very capable of taking care of yourselves." 
 
 This was said by the first lieutenant of the 
 ship, who was rather irritable at all times, and 
 perhaps felt not particularly good-humoured at 
 having been aroused from his slumbers by the 
 unusual bustle on board. 
 
 " \Ve had been ordered, sir," Frederic replied, 
 " to come on board as soon as we could, and 
 when we set out there was nothing, with pru- 
 dent management, to prevent our coming safely. 
 Arthur's fall overboard was accidental, and 
 might have happened at any time, and I got 
 wet in attempting to save him." 
 
 The surgeon, who was still busy about Arthur, 
 saw that, during this question and answer, he 
 seemed uneasy, and more than once moved his 
 lips, as if with an effort to speak, and said, 
 " Gentlemen, if any further investigation of this 
 subject is necessary, it must take place out of 
 my patient's hearing ; he is now conscious, and 
 must not be disturbed." A movement of Ar- 
 thur's hand caused the surgeon to bend his head 
 down to him. In feeble whispers he said, 
 " Frederic was not to blame. I will tell all " 
 "When you are stronger you may, Mr. 
 Macon," said the surgeon, interrupting him; 
 " in the mean time you must not speak. Mr. 
 Cox," he added, turning to the lieutenant, "Mr. 
 Macon assures me that Mr. Stanley was in no 
 degree to blame : he will answer all your ques- 
 tions when he is stronger. Now he had better 
 be left in quiet. I shall remain with hin: for an 
 hour ; and, Mr. Stanley, let me advise you to 
 get rid of your wet clothing ; you have been in 
 it too long already." 
 
 Frederic was glad of this advice, for it gave 
 him an opportunity to escape from the curiosity 
 of his shipmates to be alone, where his heart 
 might ascend in uninterrupted, unwitnessed 
 thanksgivings to the Being who had rescued his 
 friend from danger so imminent. With this 
 gratitude to God mingled hope fur Arthur. 
 Such a lesson, he thought, could not be with- 
 out its salutary influence upon him. He could 
 not fail now to see the evil of those habits 
 which had been so nearly fatal to him. 
 
 It was noon of the following day before Ar- 
 thur awoke from the sleep into which he had 
 fallen soon after his recovery. He opened his 
 eyes languidly, and looked around with a be- 
 wildered air, till his glance rested on Frederic, 
 who was seated by the side of his hammock. 
 Recollection of the last night's events seemed
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 then suddenly to flash upon him, and while one 
 hand was extended to his friend, the other was 
 pressed upon his closed eyes, as if he shrank 
 from seeing him. 
 
 Frederic grasped warmly the hand presented 
 to him, and said, in cheerful tones, " Well, Ar- 
 thur, how is it with you to-day ?" 
 
 " Oh, Frederic, how might it have been but 
 for you !" was the agitated reply. 
 
 " Not for me, but for the goodness of God, 
 dear Arthur, to whom we are both so deeply 
 indebted." 
 
 " I feel it, Frederic ; but you ! how few would 
 have risked their lives as you did ; and for one, 
 too. who had just treated you so unkindly !" 
 
 " Say nothing of that, Arthur say nothing 
 of that : you were not yourself then." 
 
 " True," Frederic, true ; but that is, I feel, 
 only a poor excuse. One atonement I have 
 already vowed to God, and now promise to you. 
 1 will never touch a card again ; for the excite- 
 ment produced by my losses at cards was the 
 cause of my rash speeches and more rash 
 actions last night." 
 
 Frederic's pleasure sparkled in his eyes as, 
 catching Arthur's hand, he exclaimed, " My joy 
 at this resolution, dear Arthur, more than re- 
 pays me for the suffering of last night." After 
 a moment's pause Frederic added, with a smile, 
 " This is the first step, Arthur, towards a nobler 
 victory than any you have obtained before a 
 victory over your hitherto unconquered self. 
 Now if you would only extend the war to one 
 other habit, which had at least as much to do 
 with the events of last evening as cards " 
 
 Arthur's face flushed quickly as he interrupted 
 his friend with, " I understand you, Frederic ; 
 but I cannot quite agree with you on this sub- 
 ject. My habits are certainly not intemperate." 
 Arthur paused, and Frederic replied, " I ad- 
 mit they are not; but " 
 
 " Then, Frederic," again interrupted Arthur, 
 " if I avoid all those occasions which are likely 
 to produce intemperance, I do all which can be 
 demanded. I cannot consent to make myself 
 unnecessarily singular to set myself in opposi- 
 tion to all with whom I associate." 
 
 " Well, well, Arthur ; I can only repeat that 
 I am truly rejoiced at your renunciation of 
 cards." 
 
 There was a silence for a few minutes, and 
 then Arthur said, " Frederic, I feel that it must 
 appear ungrateful in me to refuse to do any 
 thing which you desire you, to whom I owe 
 my life; but, to tell the truth, I would find it 
 easier, I think, to jump into a raging sea for 
 you, as you did for me last night, than to meet 
 the observation and the ridicule which I have 
 seen your peculiarities on this subject excite." 
 " I can realise it, Arthur, for it was a very 
 great trial to me at first; and that I did not 
 yield to that trial, but came off conqueror from 
 it, gave me more pride and pleasure than I ever 
 experienced in any act of my life. But let us 
 
 talk no more about it, for I would not have you 
 do it from any feeling of gratitude to me. By 
 the by, how did you learn that I had any thing 
 more to do with getting you out of the water 
 than the others who were in the boat ? for I 
 think you were never conscious from the time 
 I found you till after you were brought on 
 board." 
 
 " No, I was not. When I rose after my first 
 plunge, I had my senses perfectly, and strove to 
 swim towards your voice, for I could not see the 
 boat ; but I was seized with a cramp probably 
 the effect of a cold bath when I was in such a 
 heated state. I was unable to use my limbs, 
 and felt myself sinking. From that moment I 
 remember nothing till I found myself here ; but 
 as soon as I recovered last night, the doctor, at 
 my request, called one of the men who had been, 
 with us, and from him I had the whole scene. 
 I wish you could have heard his praises, 
 Frederic." 
 
 " Praises easily won, Arthur ; for I am sure 
 there is not a man on board who would not 
 jump into the water to save his friend from 
 drowning." 
 
 " Perhaps not, Fred," said Arthur, looking 
 affectionately at him ; " but few, if any, on 
 board would show the coolness, and decision, 
 and promptitude which you did, and which had 
 quite as much to do with saving my life as your 
 jumping in the water." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BEAUTY OP GOODNESS. 
 
 Oh woman ! in our hours of easo 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please ; 
 When pain and sickness wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou. SCOTT. 
 
 The rumours respecting the early recal of the 
 ship commanded by Capt. B., to which we al- 
 luded in our last chapter, proved to be correct. 
 She returned to the United States in less than 
 a month after the events here recorded ; hut 
 Frederic and Arthur did not return in her. By 
 the advice of Capt. B., and on his application, 
 they had been transferred to the brig Enterprise, 
 commanded by Captain L., which it was thought 
 would yet remain some time abroad. In Ja- 
 nuary, 1812, however, this vessel was ordered to 
 the West Indies, and in March of the same 
 year Frederic and Arthur once more found 
 themselves lying off New Orleans. It was but 
 a few days after their arrival that Frederic, 
 having obtained leave of absence for the day, set 
 out with pleasant anticipations for the house of 
 Mr. Manvers. He found Laurel Grove looking 
 even more beautifully than when he had last 
 seen it ; for in that warm climate Nature had 
 already assumed her spring garb. The foliage
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 was more vividly green, newly opened flowers 
 met his eve on every side, and the fragrant 
 wild jessamine threw its graceful tendrils and 
 yellow clusters from tree to tree along his path. 
 
 It was noon when he arrived. On inquiring 
 for Mr. Manvers, he was told that this gentle- 
 man had ridden out, but would return to 
 dinner. 
 
 " Were the ladies in :" 
 
 " Mrs. Delaneux was indisposed. Miss Ella 
 had walked out, but would be back very soon. 
 Would the gentleman walk in " 
 
 " No," Stanley replied to this invitation ; " I 
 will walk for a while, and return in an hour." 
 
 " Very well, sir. And if you take that path," 
 pointing to the left, "that goes by the orchard 
 to the negro houses, you will be likely to meet 
 Miss Ella," said the very polite and attentive 
 black man who officiated as porter at Laurel 
 Grove. 
 
 Frederic pursued the direction pointed out, 
 walking very leisurely, stopping occasionally to 
 observe such objects as excited Ins admiration or 
 curiosity, and wondering all the while whether 
 Ella Manvers had altered much, and whether 
 she would remember him. A short walk only 
 a quarter of a mile brought Frederic to the 
 negro houses. They were small houses, built 
 on each side of a street, which was wide and 
 clean. To each house was attached a small 
 garden. Before one of them was collected a 
 group of negro children, none of whom were 
 over teu years old, and most were natch younger. 
 Frederic inquired of one, if he knew where Miss 
 Manvers was. 
 
 " Sir ?" exclaimed the child, with a puzzled 
 look. 
 
 " Who you bin ax for, sir ?" asked another, 
 with a bright, intelligent face, drawing near him. 
 
 " Miss Manvers Miss Ella Manvers," said 
 Frederic. 
 
 " Oh ! 'tis Miss Ella you mean. Him da to 
 Aunt Judy house." 
 
 44 And which is Aunt Judy's house ?" asked 
 Frederic, with a smile. 
 
 " De las house on de udder side." 
 
 Frederic was soon at " de las house on de 
 udder side." The door stood open as if inviting 
 entrance, yet he approached slowly, hesitatingly, 
 for it had, within the last few minutes, occurred 
 to him that, however kindly he had been re- 
 ceived by the family of Mr. Manvurs, he had 
 been but a short time in their society, and was 
 still, in reality, but the acquaintance of a day. 
 Ella might not even recollect him ; and to seek 
 her thus, and then have to announce himself, 
 would be in no slight degree embarrassing. 
 Checked by such thoughts, he was, as we have 
 said, advancing slowly, when low, gentle tones 
 came upon his ear the tones, not of tiift'erent 
 voices, as in conversation ; but of one soft voice 
 reading. Frederic stepped aside from the path, 
 and drew quite near to a windo<v, only partly 
 open, through which he could see if the reader 
 
 was Ella, wiihout inteirupting her, aa hi* 
 entrance must have done. The picture which 
 presented itself to his view vithin that humble 
 room was one which deeply touched bis heart 
 one which he never forgot. 
 
 On a crib built against the wall lay an old 
 blac.< woman, whose emaciated face bore tes- 
 timony to disease. Her eyes were closed, her 
 hands clasped together over her breast, and 
 there was something in her attitude and counte- 
 nance betokening earnest attention. By her 
 side, on a rough but clean stool, was seated 
 Ella Manvers. A large book was open on her 
 knee, above which her head was bent till the 
 drooping curls entirely concealed her face, and 
 from this book she was reading to the old 
 woman in a grave and earnest tone. The first 
 sentence which Frederic heard was, " I am the 
 Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth in 
 ine, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; 
 and he that liveth and belie'veth in me shall 
 never die." 
 
 " Read dat agen, missis," said the feeble voice 
 of the old woman. 
 
 Ella obeyed, and she repeated after her, "I 
 am the Resurrection and the Life," &c. As the 
 passage was concluded, raising her still clasped 
 handi, she said, " 'Tis a blessed '*ord, missis 
 a blessed word and I tank God for it. I bin 
 hear Mr. Cotton preach 'bout dat same word 
 once, and he say it mean dat if any body, even to 
 poor old Judy, b'lieve in de blessed Saviour and 
 lub him, he shall rise up agen after he is dead, 
 and goto lib wid him for ever in lieal>t>n. Ain't 
 dat a joyful word, Miss Ella? in heabeu, where 
 your good ma is gone, and where, by and by, 
 Judy will see her kind old missis, and her young 
 missis too. I hope." 
 
 The old woman's voice became very feeble, 
 and Ella lifted a cup from a table near her, aud 
 held it to her lips. She dr.ink from it, and 
 then lay quite still for several minutes. Fre- 
 deric could not see Ella's face, but he saw her 
 tears as they fell slowly and unheeded upon the 
 hook on her lap. After a while she said, 
 " Mnum Judy, shall 1 read again ?'' 
 
 " No, tank you, my dear young missis ; dat 'a 
 'nough for Judy to lemember forgone day. But 
 now, Miss Ella, won't you please to pray wid 
 de old woman once more? maybe to-morrow 
 she'll be a prayin, up in heaben, for you." 
 
 Ella rose from her seat. Frederic stepped 
 quickly aside, lest she should see him. M hen 
 he looked cgain. she was kneeling by ihc crib, 
 and in simple words, suited to the apprehension 
 of the being beside her, yet earnest, fervent, as 
 from her own spirit, did she address herself to 
 Him who was the Father of both. Tears started 
 to Frederic's eyes. He removed his hat aud 
 bent his head, with a reverence deeper, perhaps, 
 than he had ever felt before. As the solemn 
 " amen" reached his ear, he turned away, feel- 
 ing that it might be painful to Ella to know 
 that he had been a listener to her prayer, till
 
 OR. WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 35 
 
 farther acquaintance with him should convince 
 her that he had listened with sympathy. 
 
 As he proceeded towards the house, Ella's 
 black dress and Judy's words, together with the 
 recollection, that when he had inquired for the 
 ladies, the servant had said nothing of Mrs. 
 Manvers, led Frederic to the conclusion that 
 this lady was no more. Of this he received 
 farther confirmation when he met Mr. Manvers, 
 in his deep mourning dress and melancholy 
 countenance and manners. A smile brightened 
 Ids face on Frederic's first appearance, but it 
 was in an instant again darkened with gloom ; 
 and though he would occasionally rouse himself 
 to converse with animation, he would quickly 
 relapse into silent reverie. Ella returned soon 
 after Frederic, and entered the room in which 
 he sat with her father. She had evidently not 
 heard of his arrival, for she looked at him 
 hesitatingly, as if but imperfectly recollecting 
 him even with the key which his uniform must 
 have given her ; yet, when he was named by 
 her father, she advanced with a pleased smile, 
 and held out her hand as to an old acquaintance. 
 Ella had grown taller, her figure had become 
 fuller and more womanly, and some of those 
 tresses which had formerly been permitted to 
 float unconfined over her shoulders, were now 
 gathered up into a comb : her cheek was some- 
 what pale, and her countenance more frequently 
 grave ; but, excepting in these things, Frederic 
 thought her not at all changed. Her manners 
 were as simple, as natural, almost as childlike 
 as ever. 
 
 Mrs. Delaneux did not appear till dinner 
 was announced. Then Ella went for her, and 
 she entered leaning on her arm. She had been 
 told that Frederic was there, and welcomed him 
 with all her former kindness. He soon found 
 that this lady was the most cheerful of the 
 family. To her, the separation from those who 
 had passed away from earth seemed short indeed, 
 for she knew that she must soon follow them. 
 
 During dinner, Ella asked her father where 
 he had spent his morning. 
 
 " In New Orleans," Mr. Manvers replied ; 
 then, after a few minutes' thoughtful silence, he 
 added, " I have within a few days been urged 
 to become a candidate for Congress, in the 
 place of poor L., who is coming home, it is 
 feared, to die. The only person who has been 
 nominated to supply his place is one whose 
 political principles seem to me, as well as to the 
 party with which I am connected, ruinous, in 
 the present state of our public affairs." 
 
 "And do you mean to go, father?" asked 
 Ella. 
 
 " I scarce know how to answer you, my 
 daughter. At one moment, the duty to my 
 country seems one from whose obligations I 
 cannot escape. At another, other duties and 
 other feelings preponderate. I must, however, 
 decide soon, for in three weeks the election will 
 be made." 
 
 THE NOVEL NEWSPAPER. No. 346. 
 
 " Is it certain," asked Mrs. Delaneux, with a 
 smile, " that you will go if you consent to be- 
 come a candidate ?" 
 
 " I sincerely believe it is," said Mr. Manvers, 
 " not on account of any personal popularity, 
 but from the general prevalence of the political 
 sentiments of which I should, in that case, be 
 considered the representative." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Mrs. Delaneux, 
 " that services which would be so generally 
 acceptable you have no right to withhold, un- 
 less you were convinced that you had yet more 
 important and conflicting duties." 
 
 " My business," said Mr. Manvers, " could, I 
 know, be confided to safe hands ; but how could 
 I leave you and Ella ?" 
 
 " You need not leave Ella," said Mrs. De- 
 laneux ; " take her with you : the change will 
 do her good; as for me," she added, " with a 
 cheerful smile, " I shall do well enough without 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed, grandmamma," said Ella, quickly, 
 " I am sure papa would not wish me to leave 
 you ; and and " she paused with a flushed 
 cheek. 
 
 " And if he did, you would be very apt to 
 refuse. Hey ! little rebel ?" 
 
 " Not to refuse, sir; but to make some 
 suggestions which might induce you to recon- 
 sider the question. Is not that a congressional 
 phrase ?" said Ella, with more sportiveness 
 than she had for a long time evinced. 
 
 Mrs. Delaneux wiped away a tear as she said, 
 " Well, if you must leave us both, it will be for 
 a little while only. Congress will soon adjourn ; 
 and I really think our claims upon you are not 
 such as to interfere with a plain duty to your 
 country. What say you, Mr. Stanley ?" 
 
 The conversation now became more general. 
 The then perplexed state of our commercial 
 relations with foreign states, and the probabili- 
 ties of a war with England, were discussed be- 
 tween Mr. Manvers and Frederic. Mrs. Dela- 
 neux occasionally evinced her interest in the 
 conversation by some remark, always tending to 
 advocate the cause of peace, and Ella by ques- 
 tions which, while they showed diffidence in her 
 own opinions, indicated a reflective mind. 
 
 When Frederic rose to take his leave, Mr. 
 Manvers asked if he could not procure leave of 
 absence for a longer time than one day : he 
 would be glad to have him spend a week with 
 him, or longer, if possible ; " and bring young 
 Macon with you," he added. 
 
 " That, sir, will, I fear, be hardly possible," 
 Frederic replied. " We are to be some time, 
 probably, in port, but Captain L. is not very 
 well supplied with officers, and will scarcely be 
 induced to spare both Arthur and myself at one 
 time." 
 
 " Wei!, then, you must come separately," 
 said Mr. Manvers. " I shall expect a long visit 
 from you ; and tell Mr. Macon 1 shall be glad to 
 see as much of him as his duties wiil permit."
 
 36 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-COtfQUBST ; 
 
 On consultation between Arthur and Fre- 
 deric, after the return of the latter from the 
 brig, it was agreed that Frederic should en- 
 deavour to obtain from Captain L. a week's 
 leave of absence for himself immediately, ami 
 the promise of the same liberty to Arthur when 
 this had expired. This was done, and on the 
 morrow Frederic returned to Laurel Grove. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 VISITS AND THEIR COXSEdUENCES. 
 
 Thus, from afar, we linger to survey 
 
 The promised joys of life's unmeasured way'; 
 
 Thus, from alar, each dim-distinguished scene 
 
 More pleasing seems than all the past hath beeo, 
 
 And every form that fancy can repair 
 
 From dark oblivion glows divinely there. 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 Mr. Manvers had consented to become a 
 candidate for the vacant seat in Congress, and 
 the arrangements preparatory to the election 
 caused him to be frequently absent from home. 
 As these arrangements were not of a character 
 likely to interest Frederic, he left him to amuse 
 himself with riding, walking, shooting, or to be 
 entertained at home by Mrs. Delaneux and Ella. 
 Even when abroad, however, Frederic had not 
 to complain of being much alone, for Ella rode 
 with him and walked with him, pleased to point 
 out the beauties she herself admired in the 
 country around her home to one who had taste 
 to appreciate them. "Within the house he read 
 to her and Mrs. Delaneux, or conversed with 
 them or, rather, conversed with Mrs. Delaneux, 
 for Ella said little, though a smile, a sudden 
 flushing of the cheek, or sometimes a starting 
 tear, would evince her interest in his communi- 
 cations. These communications sometimes re- 
 lated to the scenes which he had visited, or the 
 persons with whom he had been associated 
 while in the Mediterranean ; but more frequently 
 did the kind Mrs. Delaneux lead him to speak 
 of his home and its dear inhabitants his father, 
 his mother, and sister. In such familiar daily 
 intercourse, more of character is revealed, more 
 of intimacy established in one week, than in 
 months of casual companionship, surrounded 
 with those barriers to free communication which 
 society ordinarily presents. Accordingly, ere 
 Frederic's visit was at an end he began to feel 
 very uncomfortable at the thought that he might 
 soon be ordered on a distant cruise, that it 
 might be years before he revisited New Orleans, 
 and that, when he did, all might be altered in 
 this pleasant abode. Mrs. Delaneux might be 
 dead and Ella married. Frederic made a yet 
 farther discovery of his own sensations. He 
 found that, with all his respect, and even at- 
 tachment to Mrs. Delaneux, the last supposition, 
 that of Ella's marriage, was the most disagree- 
 
 able to him. Her character, her tastes, her 
 opinions, had become an interesting study to 
 him, and lie felt that speculations regarding his 
 own future were connecting themselves with 
 this study. It was not Eilu's beauty it was 
 not even her sweet manners, or the good sense, 
 right principles, and kind feelings displayed in 
 her conversation or her actions, which had so 
 rapidly excited such an interest: it was that 
 over all these, the scene by the bedside of the 
 dying negro, to which Frederic had been an un- 
 suspected witness, shed a halo. 
 
 " Time rolls his ceaseless course," 
 
 unheeding our joys and sorrows, and the last 
 day of Frederic's visit arrived ere it was desired. 
 On this day Mr. Manvers had returned from 
 the city to dinner. All lingered longer than 
 usual at table, for Frederic was to take his de- 
 parture when they arose. At length the clock 
 struck four, and he felt that delay was no lon- 
 ger possible. Rising hastily, he approached 
 Mrs. Delaneux and tendered his adieu. " Fare- 
 well, my son," said the venerable lady, taking 
 his hand in both of hers ; " I shall always re- 
 member your visit with pleasure, and be'grati- 
 fied to hear of your welfare. Will you not write 
 to us sometimes ?" 
 
 "Thank you thank you, madam, for the 
 permission. I will avail myself of it with plea- 
 sure ; but may I not hope to receive something 
 in return to hear from you ?" 
 
 " It is many years since I wrote a letter," 
 said Mrs. Delaneux, smiling. 
 
 " I was not so presumptuous as to hope to 
 hear from you under your own hand, madam ; 
 but you might employ an amanuensis. Would 
 not Miss Manvers write for you ? You would 
 not object, sir, to her doing so ?" turning, with 
 a little hesitation of manner, towards Mr. Mau- 
 vers. 
 
 " Object to Ella's answering your letters for 
 her grandmother ! Oh no !" said Mr. Manvers, 
 laughing at the idea. 
 
 Had he noticed the sparkling of Frederic's 
 eye as he looked towards Ella on obtaining his 
 consent, he would have felt that to him it was 
 an important favour granted. With such a 
 medium of communication open, all things 
 seemed possible to the elastic spirit of youth, 
 and he turned to Ella with a countenance so 
 nearly joyous that, had she been a keen ob- 
 server, she might have experienced some sur- 
 prise at such seeming pleasure in parting. 
 
 Mr. Manvers accompanied Frederic to the 
 boat which was to convey him to the brig, and 
 to bring Arthur back in his place. During the 
 walk Frederic was silent and abstracted, and 
 when they were within a few yards only of the 
 landing, he suddenly halted, and said, abruptly, 
 " Mr. Manvers, I am afraid I should do wrong 
 to avail myself of your permission that your 
 daughter should correspond with me, without 
 explaining to you the feelings and hopes which
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 37 
 
 induced me to solicit your consent ;" and then 
 he expressed the feelings which Ella had excited, 
 the regret he felt at parting with her, and the 
 hope he entertained of making the correspond- 
 ence so kindly proposed by Mrs. Delaneux, anr 1 
 to which he (Mr. Manners) had so readily con 
 sented, the medium of awakening kindred sen 
 timents in her mind. 
 
 Mr. Manvers heard him with grave attention, 
 and, when he had ended, asked, "Have you 
 spoken of these feelings to my daughter, sir ?" 
 
 " Not a word," Frederic promptly answered ; 
 " not even by a look have I consciously revealed 
 them. To do so, under existing circumstances, 
 would have been as presumptuous towards her 
 as dishonourable towards you." 
 
 " Very well, sir, very "well," said Mr. Man- 
 vers, suffering his countenance to relax a littk ; 
 " you have done rightly. You are a young man 
 a very young man and I am glad, for youi 
 sake as well as Ella's, that you have not com- 
 mitted yourself by word or look ; for it is very 
 probable the next pleasing girl in whose society 
 you are thrown may erase the impression she 
 has made." Frederic would have interrupted 
 him. " Nay, nay," said he, with a smile, " I 
 know all you would say, for I too have been 
 young ; but I know, also, that what I have sup- 
 posed is quite possible. For this correspondence 
 it is to pass through Mrs. Delaneux's hands, 
 if I understand aright ?" Frederic bowed. " I 
 see, then, no objection to it. Only be as honour- 
 able in your mode of conducting it as you have 
 been in this conversation. Let there be no 
 inuendoes, no secret enclosures. Let it be only 
 what it pretends to be. Use it only as a means 
 of continuing and improving your acquaintance 
 with Ella. If, three years hence, after the 
 opportunity thus afforded you of learning her 
 character and testing your own feelings, you 
 come to me for my consent to woo and win her, 
 it shall not be withheld, unless my views of you 
 have greatly changed." 
 
 " Thank you. sir, thank you," said Frederic, 
 eagerly ; " only abate somewhat of the time 
 you have named, and I can ask nothing more." 
 
 " Not a jot, not a jot," said Mr. Manvers, 
 firmly, but pleasantly. " You are both young. 
 Your characters will be scarcely formed then." 
 
 Mr. Manvers had already resumed his pro- 
 gress to the boat, and there was no time for 
 farther remark. "When he reached it, he wrung 
 Frederic's hand warmly, and, as the boat shoved 
 off, called out, " Three years soon pass." 
 
 " Three years soon pass," repeated Frederic 
 to himself, with a happy smile, and delivered 
 himself to a reverie so absorbing that the boat- 
 men had more than once to remind him that 
 he was approaching an adverse current which 
 would greatly retard their progress. "With the 
 aid of such remembrances from them, he at 
 length reached the brig, leaving them with a 
 conviction of his inexpertness as a helmsman, 
 which made it long their ultimatum of dispraise 
 
 that any performance was " as bad as dat Mr. 
 Stanley's steerin'." 
 
 It was with a sensation nearer akin to envy 
 than any he had experienced before, that Fre- 
 deric saw Arthur depart to take his place at 
 Laurel Grove ; to be Ella's companion in the 
 morning ride and the evening walk ; to read 
 no ; he did not think Arthur would read much 
 with her, or recommend himself to Mrs. Dela- 
 neux, or, he added, with a brightened counte- 
 nance, be asked to correspond with her. But 
 Arthur, he was sure, would please Mr. Manvers, 
 and he might please his daughter. Ella cer- 
 tainly pleased him. He admired her appear- 
 ance ; she rode well, sang sweetly, played skil- 
 fully on more than one musical instrument, and 
 chatted agreeably. This was all which Arthur 
 knew of her, and" this, to his impulsive and un- 
 reflecting nature, was enough. He strove most 
 assiduously during that week to win her favour, 
 and was too sanguine in his temperament to 
 feel very doubtful of success. 'With such senti- 
 ments, and little practised in self-control, it was 
 scarcely to be expected that Arthur would, like 
 Frederic, forbear the expression of liis feelings. 
 More than once, accordingly, during the last 
 two days of his visit, he was on the point of 
 revealing them, but was checked by the per- 
 fect simplicity and seeming unconsciousness of 
 Ella. 
 
 The last morning had come, and he found 
 himself alone with her. They had been singing 
 together a duet which he had expressed a desire 
 to learn, and as she left the pianoforte and took 
 a seat on a sofa, he followed her, and, seating 
 himself near her, he said, " It is a painful 
 thought that it may be long, very long, before 
 I enjoy this pleasure again." 
 
 "Why?" said Ella, simply enough. "Are 
 you not permitted to sing on board a ship ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I take little pleasure in singing 
 alone." 
 
 " And do none of your brother officers sing?" 
 
 " I know not, I care not. Miss Manvers, is 
 it that you do not or that you will not under- 
 stand me ? Must I tell you " 
 
 " Tell me nothing, Mr. Macon, which you 
 would not be willing my father or my grand- 
 mother should hear ; nothing which may make 
 you think hereafter with dissatisfaction of a 
 visit which I hope has not been altogether un- 
 pleasant to you." 
 
 She rose to leave the room, but Arthur placed 
 himself before her. 
 
 " But, Ella Miss Manvers I am quite mill- 
 ing your father should know my sentiments. I 
 intend he shall know them as" soon as I have 
 ascertained yours." 
 
 " Mine, Mr. Macon, are precisely such as they 
 might be supposed to be for an acquaintance of 
 a week, entitled, by my father's introduction, to 
 my respect." She bowed, and passed from the 
 room, without any farther effort on Arthur's 
 . r part to detain her.
 
 38 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 " Dignified enough !" he exclaimed, when he 
 recovered his first surprise ; " and plain enough 
 too. Who would have believed it of her, as 
 simple as she seemed?" He paused a moment, 
 and then, while his face reddened with shame 
 and anger, continued, " A pretty figure I must 
 have cut in her eyes for the last two or three 
 days, striving to make her see what she doubt- 
 less saw clearly enough, and what she was 
 playing off as skilfully as the most arrant co- 
 quette could have done. Simply indeed 1" 
 
 Ah ! Arthur Macon, you have learned two 
 important lessons, that simplicity and dignity 
 are not incompatible, and that it is as well 
 not to believe too implicitly in a woman's igno- 
 rance of feelings which she does not appear to 
 see. 
 
 Arthur Macon would gladly have left Mr. 
 Manvers's house immediately after his explana- 
 tion with Ella, and thus have avoided meeting 
 her again, could he have found an excuse for so 
 doing. Ella was, on her part, no less desirous 
 to escape another interview, and when she left 
 Arthur it was with the intention not to see him 
 again. This was an intention more easily enter- 
 tained than accomplished, as Ella felt when the 
 dinner hour arrived. No unexceptionable apo- 
 logy presented itself to her for remaining in her 
 own apartment. Indisposition, which she might 
 have alleged, as her unusual excitement had 
 occasioned a slight headache, would cause pain- 
 ful anxiety to her father and grandmother, and 
 rather than do this, would have encountered a 
 much greater annoyance than an hour of Arthur 
 Macon's society. Should she explain the real 
 motive of her seclusion, it would, she thought, 
 excite her father's displeasure against Arthur, 
 and this she was generously disposed to avoid. 
 For the completion of this generous purpose, 
 Ella felt that she must not only appear at din- 
 ner, hut that her manner must be such as 
 Tieither to awaken observation nor induce in- 
 quiry. She therefore appeared, as usual, with 
 her grandmother, and, to Arthur's surprise, ex- 
 hibited to him all her usual courtesy, though, 
 perhaps, with not quite her usual ease. This 
 difference of manner was, however, so slight, 
 that it WP.S perceived only by Arthur himself, 
 to whom it was not displeasing. He began to 
 acknowledge to himself that he had been in too 
 great haste that feminine propriety had posi- 
 tively demanded of Ella that she should check 
 his apparent presumption, whatever her own 
 feelings towards him might be. He resolved to 
 do his utmost to retrieve his false step. "SYhilc 
 his ship remained in port, he would act the 
 humble and submissive lover to her, and before 
 he sailed he would intercede, through her father, 
 for her forgiveness and acceptance." If he might 
 truts the deepening -colour on her cheek when- 
 ever he addressed her, he thought the interces- 
 sion would not be rejected. 
 
 Indulging hopes thus slightly grounded, Ar- 
 thur bade adieu to his hospitable entertainers. 
 
 and departed with scarce less pleasant anticipa- 
 tions than Frederic. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TRUTH FEARLESS AND TRIUMPHANT, 
 
 For though I am not splenetive and rash, 
 Yet have I in me soraethiug dangerous, 
 Whicu let thy wisdom 1'ear. Hold off thy hand. 
 HAMLET. 
 
 The day appointed for the political contest in 
 which Mr. Manvers was to play so important a 
 part having arrived, Frederic 'and Arthur ob- 
 tained permission to spend it in the city, where 
 they might observe the aspect of affairs, and 
 receive the earliest assurance of the success of 
 Mr. Manvers, of which they flattered themselves 
 there was little doubt. Having little practical 
 acquaintance with elections, they never sus- 
 pected that in entering, about two o'clock in 
 the afternoon, a house in which refreshments 
 appeared to be liberally dispensed, they were 
 identifying themselves with a party, and that 
 the party opposed to their friend. As they 
 reached the door, Arthur suddenly recollected 
 an appointment he had made to meet a gentle- 
 man elsewhere at thut hour, and he turned off, 
 saying, " Set to, Fred, without ceremony ; if I 
 find him there I will bring him along with me, 
 or apologise and return without him." 
 
 Frederic went in, but, determining not to 
 dine till Arthur's return, drew his chair to a 
 window, and took up a newspaper to pass away 
 the time. He found it impossible, however, so 
 to interest himself in its communications as to 
 avoid hearing the buzz around him, out of 
 which only a few words now and then reached 
 him with any distinctness, and these always 
 bore reference to the business of the day the 
 election. At length one speaker fixed his at- 
 tention, by his louder tones and greater fluency. 
 Frederic looked up, and found him to be a 
 person whom he had occasionally seen in the 
 streets of New Orleans, and of whom, he had 
 been told, little was known except that he 
 styled himself Colonel Granby, of the British 
 army, and that he was last from one of the 
 AVes't India islands. He had brought no letters 
 of introduction with him, relying, as it would 
 seem, on his own merits. These few were 
 willing to take upon trust, and, in consequence, 
 many, and among others Mr. Manvers, had de- 
 clined inviting him to their houses, or recipro. 
 eating his somewhat persevering civilities. 
 
 This man now stood within a few feet ot 
 Frederic ; his slight figure, thin, sharp features, 
 dark complexion, raven hair and whiskers, and 
 jetty eyes, which wandered restlessly from ob- 
 ject to object as he spoke, only fixing themselves 
 for a moment at long intervals on the person he
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO 
 
 was addressing, contrasting singularly with the 
 appearance of this latter, who was an honest 
 countryman, broad chested and round shoul- 
 dered, with good-humoured face, blue eyes, and 
 sandy hair. When Frederic looked up, the 
 countryman was saying, with a puzzled air, 
 " Well, Mr. What's-your-name, you talk very 
 fair, and yet I don't hardly know what to make 
 of it, for I don't think the Manvers I know'd 
 would a' done sich a shabby thing ; and I 
 reckon as how he must be the same Manvers 
 they've got on this piece of paper," showing a 
 ticket which he held in his hand. 
 
 " Perhaps not, my good friend," said Colonel 
 Granby, in soft tones and with singularly rapid 
 enunciation, " perhaps not. Do you know the 
 first name of your friend Mr. Manvers ?" 
 
 " No ; but 'l think it was Charles, and this 
 one, I see, is named Charles ; but I know that 
 my Mr. Manvers came from somewhere North, 
 and he married a daughter of old Delaneux's, 
 and when I know'd 'em they used to live at the 
 old man's handsome place Laurel Grove." 
 
 " Oh ! my good sir, that is quite another in- 
 dividual. Vvhy this Mr. Manvers came over 
 here from the West Indies ; and though he 
 professes to have been born in America, many 
 persons suppose him to be still a British 
 subject." 
 
 " Now you don't tell !" exclaimed the amazed 
 countryman ; ' and so I liked to have gived my 
 vote to one of them Britishers. Well, he don't 
 get no vote from old Ben Bird, that's settled," 
 and he tore his ticket and threw it on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Hurra ! my friend ; there's a true American 
 spirit. Now let me give you another ticket 
 one for Mr. Lamotte, a real Louisianian, born 
 and raised here, like yourself." 
 
 " There you miss it, my clever fellow," said 
 Ben Bird, with a chuckle, " for I'm a rale 
 Georgy, up-country cracker, and wasn't born 
 here, nr raised here at all ; but, anyhow, 
 Louisiana's better than the West Ingies so 
 give us your ticket." 
 
 Frederic had listened to this conversation first 
 with amusement, and then with amazement at 
 the bold falsehoods of the specious colonel and 
 the easy gullibility of the honest countryman ; 
 but, as the latter stretched out his hand to re- 
 ceive the offered ticket, he rose and said, in a 
 very quiet but very firm manner, " My friend, 
 before you take that ticket, just allow me to say 
 that I am intimately acquainted with Mr. Man- 
 vers, the candidate for Congress, and that he is 
 a native of Connecticut, who came here early in 
 life, married Miss Delaneux, of Laurel Grove, 
 on which place he now resides with the aged 
 and widowed Mrs. Delaneux, and that I, as well 
 as you, feel assured that he could not be guilty 
 of a shabby action." 
 
 The old man looked from Frederic to the 
 colonel, and from the colonel to Frederic, and 
 then said, with a flushed and angry face, " I 
 
 wish I know'd which of you two chaps was a 
 lying." 
 
 Frederic met his gaze fully, and said, with a 
 smile, " Laurel Grove is only four miles off; if 
 you will drive there with me you will soon as- 
 certain that I am not." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that I am, sir ?" asked 
 the colonel, with considerable bluster in bis 
 manner. 
 
 " I mean to say nothing at all to you, sir ; 
 my inferences are pretty plain, but you must 
 take the trouble to draw them for yourself." 
 
 " I presume, sir, you are prepared to meet 
 the consequences of your words. We gentle- 
 men of the army have an easy way of settling 
 such affairs. I shall send a friend to you to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " You may save yourself the trouble of doing 
 so," said Frederic ; " I am always prepared to 
 meet the consequences of my words, as I speak 
 only truth; but I take the "liberty of settling 
 my affairs in my own way." 
 
 " That's right, lad. I do believe you're the 
 true blue, after all," exclaimed Ben Bird. 
 
 Encouraged by Frederic's quietness, which, 
 though it could by no one be mistaken for 
 timidity, seemed to offer impunity for consider- 
 able bluster, the colonel advanced towards him 
 with threatening gestures, saying, " Do you iu- 
 sult a gentleman, and then think to escape from 
 him thus ?" 
 
 Frederic did not recoil a step, or raise an arm 
 to repel his advance, but, looking him steadily 
 in the face, said, " I am making, as you per- 
 ceive, no attempt to escape. As for insult, I 
 have offered none. I have told the trutli ; if 
 that is an insult to you, it is your own fault for 
 placing yourself in opposition to it. For the 
 rest, you may bluster as much as you will; but, 
 if you have any affection for your person, I ad- 
 vise you not to touch me. I should endeavour 
 to handle you gently, but I might not be able to 
 avoid hurting you." 
 
 A low laugh from the pleased Ben Bird gave 
 additional bitterness to this pill, and the colonel 
 could by no means digest it. Retreating a few 
 steps, so as to place himself out of reach of 
 Frederic's arm, he called loudly, " Here is an 
 emissary from the Manvers side carrying off our 
 voters." 
 
 The room was nearly filled with men, some 
 eating or drinking, but most collected into 
 various groups, conversing earnestly. Engaged 
 as all were, however, this call attracted instant 
 attention, and from every side came cries of 
 " Hustle him out," " Throw him through the 
 window," coupled with epithets little suited to 
 our pages. 
 
 Ben Bird braced himself up, and assumed a 
 boxing attitude, saying, " Come on ; you'll have 
 two to hustle out! It won't be easy to throw 
 me through the window, I reckon." But above 
 his voice above all the confusion, arose Fre- 
 ieric's clear, unfaltering tones. " I demand a
 
 40 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 hearing from every man of truth and honour 
 here. Hear ine, my friends, and then 1 am 
 willing you should judge me." 
 
 " That's fair hear him first," shouted many 
 voices. A few still cried, " No ; throw him out 
 what business had he in our quarters ?" But 
 these last were evidently too much intoxicated 
 to accomplish their own threats, and their voices 
 were soon silenced. 
 
 Frederic's face neither paled with dismay nor 
 flushed \\ith auger during this scene. Standing 
 quietly, he watched, with a wary eye, the ad- 
 vance of those who were endeavouring to make 
 their way to him, till the tumult had abated. 
 Then he called out, " I am the emissary of no 
 party noc even entitled to a vote, as my uni- 
 form will show you. I came to this house only 
 to procure a dinner, not knowing that it was 
 appropriated to any set of men. I have sought 
 no quarrel, and have not spoken of Mr. Man- 
 vers cvcept to assure this man by my side that 
 Mr. Manvers, the candidate, is the same man 
 with Mr. Manvers, the proprietor of Laurel 
 Grove. If in this I have spoken falsely, I am 
 in your power, and you may punish me ; if 
 truly, and you are men of honour, you can have 
 no quarrel with me." 
 
 As Frederic spoke many frowning brows re- 
 laxed, and if some still scowled upon him, it 
 was evident that any attempt of theirs to injure 
 him would have been resistedby a greater number 
 of their own party ; and, to render his triumph 
 complete, there now appeared a new and power- 
 ful ally on the scene, in a gentleman who, when 
 he commenced speaking, had entered through a 
 door communicating with an inner apartment. 
 He remained quietly near the door till Frederic 
 had ended what he had to say, when, advancing 
 towards him through the opening crowd, he 
 said, ' No, Mr. Stanley, no quarrel with you, 
 and no quarrel with truth let it come ironi 
 whom it will." 
 
 " Ah, Mr. De Yillars," said Frederic, spring- 
 ing forward to meet him. ' I am verv glad to 
 see you." 
 
 : " You have conquered without my aid, I 
 see," said Mr. De Yillars, as he shook his hand 
 warmly ; " but I am glad 1 have come in time 
 to assure my friends that they have yielded only 
 to truth." Then turning to those around, he 
 added, " I am well acquainted with this gentle- 
 man, and assure you that he is, as he says, the 
 emissary of no party." 
 
 Mr. De Yillars invited Frederic to dine witk 
 kirn, but this he declined, as he was desirous to 
 meet Arthur, and prevent his return to this 
 house. As he was going out he looked around 
 for Ben Bird : " I'm a coming," said that worthy, 
 perceiving the glance ; " but I jist want, before 
 I go, to see that 'ere fellow that tried to bam- 
 boozle me." 
 
 This want was not satisfied ; for the gallant 
 colonel had departed during the confusion he 
 bad himself excited, and honest Ben Bird had 
 
 to postpone his benevolent design of " giving 
 him a piece of his mind " till another opportu- 
 nity should present itself. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PASSION" AND ITS FRUITS A DUEL. 
 
 Thou cao'st hurt no man's fame with thy ill word : 
 Thy tongue is full as harmless as tliy sword. 
 
 SCKOPE. 
 
 And where was Arthur during this scene? 
 At the hotel at which he had engaged to meet 
 his friend Mr. Rousseau at two "o'clock. Mr. 
 Rousseau was a perfect model of punctuality. 
 He had presented himself at the place appointed 
 precisely at two, waited ten minutes, and Mr. 
 Macon not appearing, had departed, leaving in a 
 note his regrets that another engagement com- 
 pelled him to be off before his arrival, and an 
 assurance that he would return in half an hour 
 precisely, when he hoped to find him. He was. 
 scarcely out of sight when Arthur arrived. 
 
 \ exed to find him gone, and yet more vexed 
 to be compelled by this note to await his return, 
 Arthur walked impatiently up and down the 
 wide hall of the hotel, examining his watch 
 every fesv seconds, and more than once putting 
 it to his ear with the conviction that it had 
 stopped. Perhaps ten minutes had passed in 
 this way from the time of his entrance, when 
 two gentlemen, ascending arm in arm the steps 
 of the hotel, proceeded into the bar-room. 
 Seating themselves where, though not in Ar- 
 thur's sight, they were so near a door opening 
 on the scene of his promenade that every word 
 they said could be distinctly heard by him, one 
 of them continued a narration, which appeared 
 in a high degree to excite the merriment of 
 both. Their laughter was annoying to Arthur 
 in his present chafed mood, and "he was turning 
 away to seek some place in which it would not 
 l>e audible, when the name of Manvers arrested 
 Ids attention. As he had no scruples of con- 
 science in listening to a conversation for which 
 the speakers evidently sought no secrecy, he 
 remained. 
 
 " And w hat did the countryman say to all 
 this ?" asked one of the gentlemen. 
 
 " Oh, honest Clodpole, never having played 
 off a hoax in his life, of course had no suspicion 
 of one ; so he was as good as won, when up starts 
 a young meddler in the shape of a seadog, and 
 with a canting tone, for the pure love of truth, 
 as he professed, undid all which I had done. I 
 could have forgiven him the loss of a vote for 
 the sake of Clodpole's amazed looks ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! it was the best farce 1 ever saw ; but 
 then, you know, the interference with myself 
 could not be passed over ; so I just cave the 
 young gentleman a slight hint of how we of
 
 OK, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 41 
 
 the army arrange such affairs, and in all my 
 service I never saw such a rapid retreat as he 
 executed." 
 
 " What ! showed the white feather ?" 
 " The white feather ! I wish you could have 
 seen him, or have heard him that would have 
 been amusement enough while he begged my 
 pardon, and did not mean to offend me, and all 
 that sort of thing, till, finding there was no 
 fight in him, and that Clodpole had hecoine too 
 wary to be caught again, I came off." 
 
 " And who was this very peaceably-disposed 
 young gentleman ?" 
 
 " Ah ! that's the strangest part of the story ; 
 a naval officer rather a good-looking young 
 man too, if he was not so fair." 
 
 " You surely do not mean young Stanley, of 
 the Enterprise"?" 
 
 "The same," said Captain Granby, whose 
 inventive powers our readers have probably 
 already recognised in this account of his inter- 
 view with Frederic Stanley. 
 
 The last words had scarcely left the captain's 
 lips before he was lying prostrate, while Arthur 
 Macon, whose blow had struck him from liis 
 chair to the floor, was standing over him, ex- 
 claiming, " Cowardly slanderer ! you know that 
 every word you have uttered of Mr. Stanley is 
 a lie. Retract it instantly." 
 
 But the captain's fall and Arthur's Joud tones 
 had drawn several persons to the spot, and 
 while the gentleman with whom he had been 
 conversing assisted the former to rise, many 
 hands were outstretched to restrain the latter 
 from farther outrage. 
 
 Ascertaining that his fiery assailant was thus 
 secured, Captain Granby advanced towards him 
 with a menacing air, saying, " You may thank 
 the protection of these gentlemen, sir, for saving 
 you from immediate punishment." 
 
 A quick movement on Arthur's part to escape 
 from the " protection " thus commended to his 
 gratitude caused the captain to step back ; but, 
 recovering himself, with a haughty erection of 
 his figure he said, " You shall soon hear from 
 me, sir," and left the room, accompanied by his 
 friend. 
 
 The hotel in which this scene had occurred 
 was that which Captain Granby at present 
 honoured with his abode. He therefore proceeded 
 with his friend, Mr. Kirkpatrick, to his own 
 apartment. This gentleman, Mr. Kirkpatrick, 
 was thoroughly acquainted with the most ap- 
 proved modes of healing wounded honour, and 
 he at once prescribed for Captain Granby 's with 
 the most perfect self-reliance. 
 
 " You are, I think, not much acquainted in 
 New Orleans, Captain Granby : it will give me 
 great pleasure to act as your friend in this little 
 affair." 
 
 "Thank you thank you, my dear sir; yon 
 are very kind ; but " a long pause, during 
 which Mr. Kirkpatrick looked hard at the cap- 
 tain. " Do you know who this young man is " 
 
 " No, except that he wears a uniform, and is 
 therefore entitled to the treatment of a gentle- 
 man. But, if you accept my services, I will 
 soon ascertain all which is necessary, by taking 
 your card to him and requesting his in re- 
 turn." 
 
 "Oh, thank you thank you. I shall be 
 much obliged to you." 
 
 Mr. Kirkpatrick waited a moment, and then 
 said, " I must trouble you for a card then." 
 " Oh yes ! I had fa-gotten." 
 The card was handed, and Mr. Kirkpatrick 
 departed on his mission. Captain Graaby re- 
 mained, execrating his own folly, which" had 
 placed him in such a position, and planning how- 
 he could avoid the fight, for which he had litll 
 appetite. The only way of doing this which, 
 suggested itself to him was an immediate and 
 secret removal from New Orleans. This was 
 inconvenient, as he had found it a profitable 
 field for his arts as a gamester; but it would be 
 better than to run the risk of a duel with Ar- 
 thur, or the yet greater risk of one with Mr. 
 Kirkpatrick, which he feared, since that gen- 
 tleman had interested himself so deeply in his 
 honour, must follow any attempt at an evasion 
 of what he considered necessary for its preser- 
 vation. We suspect that few have ever prayed 
 " Deliver me from my enemies " with more fer- 
 vour than Captain Granby, on this eventful day, 
 would have besought deliverance from this, his 
 self-constituted friend. 
 
 Mr. Kirkpatrick soon returned, bringing Ar- 
 thur's card, and reporting that Mr. Macon had 
 retired with his friend, Mr. Rousseau, to his 
 rooms, which were not distant, and would there 
 await any communication from Captain Granby. 
 There was no escape for the captain from at 
 least writing a challenge. It was written, and 
 contained a very obvious allusion to the con- 
 ciliatory powers of an apology. 
 
 "An apology !" exclaimed Mr. Kirkpatrick, 
 on reading it, " an apology for knocking a man 
 down. Excuse me, sir ; I cannot be the bearer 
 of such an epistle." 
 
 " But, my good sir, he is very young such a 
 mere boy," said the kind, pitying captain. 
 
 " A boy who can strike such a blow is en- 
 titled to be met as a man." 
 
 The note was re-written, and this time, under 
 Mr. Kirkpatrick's dictation, its style became so 
 determined that Captain Granby was yet more 
 convinced that nothing but the flight he con- 
 templated could save him from becoming a 
 target for the exhibition of Mr. Macon's skill as 
 a marksman. 
 
 And now let us turn to Arthur the nobler 
 Arthur, as he sat in Mr. Rousseau's rooms 
 asvaitiug this missive. Mr. Rousseau had left 
 him to seek for Captain L., with whom he was 
 acquainted, and procure from him an extension 
 of Arthur's leave of absence. He was also to 
 see Frederic Stanley, and say to him that his 
 friend had made engagements whicli would pre-
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 vent his returning with him to the brig. Ar- 
 thur was therefore alone ; and what were his 
 thoughts? Were they triumphant, self-gratu- 
 lating, such as would have inspired a spirit 
 fearless as his in meeting even certain death in 
 a holy cause ? 
 
 Far otherwise. His faculties never before 
 appeared so active ; and as he felt the full pulse 
 of existence bounding through his veins as 
 memory woke, from their death-like sleep, forms 
 and tones which had long lain buried in her 
 cells, and imagination brought thronging around 
 him the creations with which she makes the 
 future glorious, life seemed to him brighter, 
 dearer than ever ; the grave darker, and eter- 
 nity but there his thoughts shrank back 
 
 "He dared not look beyond the grave." 
 
 Back back to earth turned the spirit which 
 might soon leave it for ever; and with what 
 lingering tenderness did it hover over all its 
 loveliness ! His home his mother the gentle 
 being who had cradled him on her breast and 
 folded him in her arms, strong only in her love 
 who had, without a murmur, suffered him to 
 go when he willed it, yet lived only in the hope 
 of his return ! And this hope the star of her 
 life he was about to darken! How vividly 
 came back the moment of parting; again his 
 head was on her bosom, her kisses on his lips, 
 her tears upon his cheek. Arthur covered his 
 eyes with his hand and groaned aloud; then 
 starting from his seat, walked rapidly across 
 the room, saying, "Frederic deserves it of me. 
 Did he not risk his life to save mine ?" And 
 you are risking yours, Arthur, for what ? To 
 save his ? It is not even threatened. But his 
 honour is not that dearer than life ? But can 
 his honour suffer from the breath of a Captain 
 Granby ? If so, let it perish ; it is not worth 
 preserving. But I attacked him. What will 
 the world say if I refuse his challenge? Ah, 
 Arthur ! you have at last touched the spring ; 
 what will the world say ? Coward ! do you 
 dread its lash ? Then be its slave, and obey 
 your master the master who puts his chains, 
 not on your wrists and ankles, but on your 
 spirit ; and hark ! he calls you even now. 
 
 There was a tap at the door, and in an in- 
 stant all agitation had passed from Arthur's 
 face, and with a quietness of manner which 
 would have deceived the most vigilant eye, he 
 opened it. It was only a servant to announce 
 Mr. Kirkpatrick. Aithur invited him to walk 
 up. He entered with ceremonious politeness, and, 
 handing the note of which he was the bearer, 
 watched Arthur's countenance while he read. 
 It told no tales ; except a slight curl of the lip, 
 all was still there. As he finished the note, he 
 said, " Pray be seated, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Mr. 
 Rousseau must be in soon, and he will make 
 the necessary arrangements with you for the 
 meeting, which can be my only answer to this 
 note." 
 
 Even while he spoke Mr. Rousseau entered. 
 He was acquainted with Mr. Kirkpatrick, and 
 divined his eiraud there. Arthur handed him 
 the note, and when he had read it, said, "Rous- 
 seau, I have told Mr. Kirkpatrick that you will 
 act as my friend, and make the necessary ar- 
 rangements with him for this meeting. Before 
 I leave you I have but one tiling to say, and 
 that regards time. What is done must be done 
 quickly ; this evening if possible ; for, once on 
 board the brig, I am no longer my own master, 
 and may be compelled to sail when I least ex- 
 pect it. In every other respect I leave myself 
 in your hands." 
 
 Arthur withdrew to another room, and it was 
 nearly an hour before Mr. Rousseau joined him, 
 there. But, though again alone, he did not re- 
 sume the train of thought which had been inter- 
 rupted by Mr. Kirkpatrick's arrival. There was 
 no suspense, no doubt now in relation to his 
 course. He was resolved. He had taken the 
 first and decisive step, and Arthur was not one 
 to pursue any path falteringly, hesitatingly. 
 He endeavoured to put away from his thoughts 
 the whole subject, and succeeded, at least, in, 
 resolutely turning away from every remembrance 
 or imagination which could depress his spirits 
 or make his nerves unsteady. 
 
 When Mr. Rousseau rejoined him, he asked 
 eagerly when the meeting was to be. 
 
 " To-morrow morning," was the reply ; " on 
 the opposite side of the river." 
 
 " Not till to-morrow morning !" said Arthur, 
 in a disappointed tone. 
 
 " Why, it is sunset now, Macon ; before we 
 could be there it would be dark." 
 
 " Well, it must be so, I suppose." 
 
 " Have you nothing else to ask ?" said Mr. 
 Rousseau. 
 
 " No ; I told you I would leave every thing 
 else to you. Pistols, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and Arthur, 
 starting up, said, " Come, Rousseau, the polls 
 must have closed ; let us see how the election 
 has terminated." 
 
 Away they went. Mr. Manvers had been 
 elected by a very large majority, and none of 
 his friends evinced their triumph by louder 
 gratulation than Arthur. From the polls he 
 carried Mr. Rousseau to the theatre, but the 
 play seemed tame to his excited mood, and he 
 proposed to collect a party of friends and ad 
 journ to some hotel, where he would provide a 
 supper in honour of Mr. Mauvers's success. 
 Mr. Rousseau readily agreed to this proposal. 
 Six or eight choice spirits were soon secured, 
 and, till long past midnight, Arthur's song and 
 jest brightened the hours to others and himself. 
 He went immediately to bed on his return 
 home. We know not if he slept, but with the 
 first gray dawn he was up, and a\voke his 
 friend. As they were leaving the house, Rous-
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 43 
 
 seau said, hesitatingly, " No directions letters 
 messages, Macon ?" 
 
 " No, no," said Arthur, Lurrying on ; " Fre- 
 deric Stanley will do all that is necessary." 
 Then, pausing a moment, he added, "Tell him, 
 Rousseau, that I honour him more than I ever 
 did, and wish I could have been more like him ; 
 but it's no use thinking of that now," he added, 
 as he again walked rapidly on. They were soon 
 at the river-side. Their boat was in waiting, 
 and they left the shore just as the eastern sky 
 began to show a tinge of red, herald of the 
 coming sun. 
 
 There was no pallor on Arthur's face there 
 was no quivering of his nerves there was no 
 shadow on his brow. " What a fearless spirit !" 
 said Mr. Rousseau to himself. Could he have 
 seen the spirit he would have given a different 
 award, for he would have seen it with its eyes 
 determinately closed, not daring to face the 
 images thronging around it not daring to read 
 the decree of conscience not daring to look 
 upon its future destinies. He might have said 
 truly, " What a strong will which can thus 
 resolutely close the spirit's eyes ! what iron 
 nerves which can thus meet, without a thrill, 
 the worst physical ills !" 
 
 The strong* will, the iron nerves these make 
 the courage of the lion or the tiger; but the 
 fearless spirit that belongs to man im- 
 mortal man alone, and seldom even to him. 
 It is his only who dares to look upon the 
 spiritual world who shrinks not from a view 
 of all which he may encounter through a never- 
 ending existence, and who, having marked out 
 his course by the light which eternity pours on 
 his unblenching vision, pursues it calmly, se- 
 renely, fixedly, though a world's jeers attend 
 him. 
 
 And how had Captain Granby passed this 
 night ? Not, as he would have desired, in a 
 rapid flight from New Orleans 
 
 " East west he cared not whither' 1 
 
 for the attentive friend his fate had raised up 
 for him in Mr. Kirkpatrick, never left his side 
 long enough to give him an opportunity of ac- 
 complishing this desire. 
 
 Something in the captain's manner, at the 
 time of writing the challenge, had awakened 
 Mr. Kirkpatrick's doubts whether his friend was 
 quite as brave as Julius Caesar. But the honour 
 which Mr. Kirkpatrick had takentmder his care 
 must be borne through all difficulties scatheless ; 
 and never did faithful sentry guard a prisoner 
 more vigilantly than that gentleman guarded his 
 dismayed friend. He ate with him, drank with 
 him, slept with him. Drank with him we may 
 well say, for, having a strong head himself, he 
 plied him with wine till wild excitement sank 
 inte drunken stupor. Sleep followed, and, ere 
 the captain \vas awake, Mr. Kirkpatrick had 
 again prepared the stimulants, to which he 
 trusted for giving him at least temporary 
 
 courage. All this would scarcely have suc- 
 ceeded, had there not been something on Mr. 
 Kirkpatrick's brow, and in his manner, which 
 said to Captain Granby, as plain as any words 
 could have done, " You fight him or you fight 
 me take your choice." Thus hedged in, he 
 perforce proceeded on his perilous path. 
 
 During their passage across the river, Mr. 
 Kirkpatrick gave many lessons and admonitions 
 to his trembling neophyte, and managed so 
 dexterously to insinuate that what must be 
 done might as well be done gracefully, that the 
 captain began to assume something of the resolu- 
 tion of the child who, finding that he must 
 swallow a nauseous dose, determines to do it 
 without being held. Accordingly, when he 
 arrived on the ground, his pallid face and the 
 tremulousness of his movements were all that 
 gave evidence of the dastardly fear under which 
 his spirit writhed, and these might have been 
 ascribed to his night's dissipation and his early 
 rising. He had secretly indulged a lingering, 
 faint hope that Arthur would at the last apolo- 
 gise ; but that was now gone. In Arthur's face 
 he saw only fixed determination. 
 
 We will not dwell on the details of this scene 
 of licensed murder licensed by the laws of 
 society, if not by the land from which our soul 
 recoils with horror and disgust. It has been 
 with painful reluctance that we have so far 
 pursued its history; but we could not avoid 
 showing of what miserable elements, alike in 
 the noble and the base, that feeling is composed, 
 which, under such circumstances, wears the as- 
 pect and is dignified with the name of courage. 
 Having done this, we obey our inclinations, and 
 hurry on to the result. 
 
 Arthur Macon faces his antagonist with un- 
 blenching eye, erect figure, and firm hand ; but 
 some lurking pity in his soul forbids him to take 
 deliberate aim, and his bullet flies wide of the 
 mark. 
 
 Captain Granby's eyes roll wildly around, 
 and his hand trembles as, scarcely conscious, he 
 touches the trigger. Arthur reels falls falls 
 bv such a hand alas I alas ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A DUEL DOES XOT ESTABLISH THE TRUTH. 
 
 The angels of affliction spread their foils alike for 
 the virtuous and the wicked. RASSELAS. 
 
 The surgeon, whose attendance Mr. Rousseau 
 had secured, having examined Arthur's wound, 
 declared that, though likely to prove severe, it 
 had not, apparently, affected any vital part. He 
 then proceeded to apply such bandages as would 
 stanch the bleeding, saying that farther ex- 
 amination must be postponed till Mr. Macon 
 had been removed to some place where he might
 
 44 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 be kept perfectly quiet after the ball was ex- 
 tracted and the wound dressed. With his usual 
 determination, Arthur insisted that this place 
 should be on board the Enterprise. It was 
 nearer than the city ; he should have there the 
 attendance of Dr. Ferris, the ship's surgeon, iu 
 whom he placed the highest confidence, as well 
 as that of Dr. Leconte, the surgeon now with him. 
 In a word, he must go to the ship. His wound 
 was beginning to be painful, and, as Dr. Leconte 
 marked the fitful flushing of his face, but a 
 moment before pale with the loss of blood, he 
 counselled Mr. Rousseau to yield to his friend's 
 wishes, without the delay or irritation of farther 
 argument. Such a bed as could be prepared of 
 coats and a sail was made in the bottom of the 
 boat, and Arthur being laid upon it, and sup. 
 ported by the surgeon, Mr. Rousseau steered 
 towards the ship. 
 
 Frederic Stanley was on deck when the boat 
 arrived in which lay his friend, with pallid face 
 and closed eyes, on which death seemed already 
 to have laid his hand. His dismay, his sorrow, 
 were indescribable , but they were expressed in 
 his countenance, and Mr. Rousseau hastened to 
 relieve him. Rapidly ascending the ship's side, 
 he caught Frederic's hand, saying, " Your friend 
 is severely wounded, Mr. Stanley, but the 
 surgeon assures me his life is in no danger." 
 
 " Thank God !" ejaculated Frederic, and, 
 without another question, busied himself with 
 the arrangements necessary for Arthur's comfort. 
 
 We have said already that Arthur Macon was 
 a favourite on board, and this was now fully 
 evinced. Captain L. surrendered one of his 
 state-rooms to the invalid, and there was not 
 one of the officers who would not readily have 
 yielded to him any of his own comforts. A 
 fuller examination of the wound was now made 
 than had been practicable on the ground, and it 
 was found that the ball had entered the side and 
 broken two of the ribs. It had then been 
 diverted in some way from its seemingly fatal 
 course, and lay in a position which made it easy 
 of extraction. Yet Arthur fainted more than 
 once during the operation, from pain and loss of 
 blood ; and when it was over Dr. Ferris begged 
 that he might be left entirely to his care for a 
 time, as he considered perfect stillness and re- 
 pose of the utmost importance to him. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Rousseau," said Frederic 
 Stanley, when they were again on deck, " pray 
 explain all this. With whom had Arthur this 
 meeting?" 
 
 ' With Captain Granby,of the British army," 
 said Mr. Rousseau. 
 
 Captain L. was near eaough to hear the 
 question and reply, and he repeated, in a tone 
 of contempt, " Captain Granby, of the British 
 anny I Why, Rousseau, that man kept a faro- 
 table in Havana, where I have seen him myself. 
 He was horsewhipped there, and forced to 
 leave the place for some of his malpractices at 
 
 " Is it possible ?" exclaimed Mr. Rousseau. 
 
 " You would not find it difficult to believe, 
 sir," said Frederic, " if you had been with me 
 yesterday, when, after uttering the most atro- 
 cious falsehoods of Mr. Manvers, he stole away, 
 under cover of an uproar he had himself excited, 
 from the anger of the man he attempted to 
 deceive." 
 
 " You surprise me," said Mr. Rousseau. I 
 saw no backwardness to fight in him." 
 
 " There may have been a great deal which 
 you did not see," said Frederic, with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Captain L. ; "I have never 
 thought duelling any great test of courage. A 
 rat, they say, will fight if you corner him." 
 
 " But what caused Arthur's quarrel with this 
 man ?" asked Frederic. 
 
 " Mr. Rousseau hesitated a moment, and then 
 said, " I may as well tell you, Mr. Stanley, for, if 
 I do not, some other, I suppose, will. It was 
 on your account. Some misrepresentation, it is 
 probable, by Captain Granby, of the very inter- 
 view to which you have alluded." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Rousseau," said Frederic, " had I 
 but known of this meeting, how easily I could 
 have prevented it ! Of that interview there 
 were many witnesses some of them highly re- 
 spectable men and their testimony would 
 have made this man's falsehood and baseness so 
 evident, that no man of honour could have 
 met him. Now that he has fought a duel, he 
 is an honourable man, and his word will doubt- 
 less carry ten times more weight with it than 
 before. So much for the use of duelling !" 
 
 Frederic spoke bitterly, but the facts were 
 couvincing to all ; and even Mr. Rousseau, as 
 he was rowed back to the city, wished that his 
 friend Macon had not been quite so precipitous. 
 
 The fever which succeeded Arthur's wound 
 was severe, and Frederic saw that Dr. Ferris 
 felt some uneasiness while it continued. In a 
 week, however, this fever was overcome, and 
 Arthur had only to contend with debility and 
 the pain of an unhealed wound. The d'octor 
 then said to Frederic, "Now, Mr. Stanley, I 
 can say that your friend is not in the slightest 
 immediate danger; but he may, nevertheless, 
 feel for many months, or even years, the en- 
 feebling effects of this wound on his constitu- 
 tion This warm climate is bad for him. If he 
 could go home for the summer months, he 
 would recover more rapidly." 
 
 " But how could he travel, doctor ?" 
 
 " Go by water, sir go by water ; he could 
 do that all the way to II ." 
 
 " He could not go alone," said Frederic, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "No; but Captain L. would, I am sure, 
 give you the leave of absence necessary to ac- 
 company him, and, when you are at home, a 
 word from a friend at Washington iu the secre- 
 tary's ear will procure you a furlough if you 
 wish it, or a transfer to another ship or, at 
 worst, you can come back to us."
 
 OR, WHieH MAKES THE HERO, 
 
 Frederic was silent for some minutes, .and 
 then said, " I will consult Captain L." 
 
 He did so ; and Captain L., feeling the im- 
 portance to Arthur of a return home, and the 
 advantage of his having Frederic as a compa- 
 nion on his voyage, and having rather more 
 than the usual complement of midshipmen for 
 vessels of 'the class of that which he commanded, 
 readily agreed to give him leave of absence, 
 and to use his influence with the secretary to 
 procure him a furlough, or another appoint- 
 ment, if he preferred that, on his return home. 
 The captain added, " I would advise you not to 
 ask a long furlough, Mr. Stanley ; for if signs 
 are to be trusted, we are not far from a fight 
 with John Bull, and though there is not much 
 chance of our beating him at sea, we may win 
 some credit by giving him a hard victory ; and 
 one gallant action will help you towards promo- 
 tion~more than years of steady service." 
 
 When the advice of Dr. Ferris was made 
 known to Arthur, he objected strongly to leav- 
 ing the brig. He was sure there was no neces- 
 sity for his going home ; he was getting better ; 
 he would soon be well, especially if he could 
 get to sea. Sea air would strengthen him di- 
 rectly. 
 
 " Well," said Captain L., when Arthur's ob- 
 jections were reported to him, " he will soon 
 have an opportunity to try the effect of a voy- 
 age, for in two days we shall be in the Gulf. A 
 few days will test the correctness of Mr. Ma- 
 con's opinions in his own case, and, if he find 
 himself getting worse, he will then be willing 
 to go home. In the Gulf we shall have almost 
 daily opportunities of putting him on board 
 some northern-bound packet or merchantman." 
 
 Frederic intended, before the two days to 
 which Captain L. had limited his stay at New 
 Orleans were expired, to visit Mrs. Delaneux 
 and Ella Manvers. Mr. Manvers, he knew, 
 had already set out for Washington. This in- 
 tention had not yet been executed, when, as he 
 sat beside Arthur the next morning, a letter 
 was handed to him. Arthur having read it, 
 turned to Frederic, saying, "This letter is 
 from Mr. Manvers, Fred. He has heard on 
 the road some garbled account of this foolish 
 affair, which leads him to believe that it was on 
 his account I met that knave. Here, read his 
 letter ; there is a message in it to you which I 
 do not understand. You will find," he added, 
 with a languid smile, as Frederick began to 
 read, " that he is rather more grateful for my 
 supposed defence of his honour than another 
 friend of mine was on the like occasion." 
 
 " I could not be grateful to you for exposing 
 your life, Arthur, which was in far more dan- 
 ger from that man's ball than I trust my honour 
 would be from the false reports of such a noto- 
 rious villain." 
 
 Frederick found that the letter contained the 
 highest compliments from Mr. Manvers to 
 Arthur on his gallant conduct, and the warmest 
 
 thanks for the exertion of that gallantry in de- 
 fence of his honour. In the concluding sen- 
 tence he first named Frederic ; it was to say, 
 " Tell Mr. Stanley that my opinions have un- 
 dergone very great change since we parted on 
 the subject upon which we conversed just as he 
 was leaving Laurel Grove after his week's visit 
 there. I beg he will dismiss from his mind all 
 thought in regard to it." 
 
 Frederic fixed his eyes musingly upon the 
 letter for some minutes after having read it, 
 and then, returning it to Arthur, rose and left 
 the cabin without saying a word. Perhaps the 
 only instance in which these young men had 
 ever practised reserve towards each other was 
 in relation to the feelings which Ella Manvers 
 had inspired ; a reserve, the causes of which 
 they could scarce have analyzed themselves. 
 
 Frederic, after leaving his friend, walked the 
 deck, thinking over and over again of the mes- 
 sage from Mr. Mauvers, and making vain ef- 
 forts to understand the motives which had 
 prompted it. At length, as he recollected the 
 false intelligence which Mr. Manvers had re- 
 ceived respecting Arthur's meeting with the 
 self-styled Captain Granby, it occurred to him 
 that probably the report of his fracas with that 
 veracious personage had been equally incorrect. 
 It might have been such as to persuade Mr. 
 Manvers that he had evinced want of friendship 
 towards himself or want of spirit towards his 
 defamer. " And this false impression would 
 probably never have been communicated but 
 for Arthur's attempt to defend me," said Fre- 
 deric to himself: "another practical lesson on 
 the uses of duelling." 
 
 There is, perhaps, no position more painful 
 than that which places you at a distance from a 
 friend at the moment you become aware that 
 his confidence in you has been destroyed by 
 means which one hour's ay, one half hour's 
 interview would render powerless. Such now 
 was Frederic's position. One who was colder, 
 more phlegmatic than he, would have found 
 comfort in the assurance that truth would ulti- 
 mately prevail, and Mr. Manvers admit the 
 propriety of his actions. But Frederic's was an 
 impetuous nature, as his first day at school may 
 have testified ; though a nature possessing in a 
 great degree that highest of all power power 
 over itself, and too noble to surrender itself 
 wholly to those blind guides impulses how- 
 ever strong they might be. To him no sooth- 
 ing anticipation of future triumph came to re- 
 lieve his present half-indignant sorrow at the 
 thought that Mr. Manvers believed him a false 
 friend or a cowardly foe ; and that, ere he could 
 convince him of his mistake, the poison might 
 be infused into Ella's mind. He looked sadly 
 towards Laurel Grove, but his face grew 
 brighter as he gazed, and he asked himself the' 
 question, almost aloud, " Why may I not see 
 Mrs. Delaneux, and relate all the circam- 
 stances of this affair to her ? Then the evil will
 
 46 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 rest with Mr. Manvers, and she may even have 
 an earlier opportunity than 1 of expelling it 
 from his mind." The thought was scarcely en- 
 tertained before he commenced its execution, 
 by obtaining Captain L.'s permission for his 
 visit. Landing at New Orleans, he soon ob- 
 tained a horse, and rode with no laggard pace 
 towards Laurel Grove. There, every thing was 
 unusually still around the house. It was a 
 warm day, and the parlour windows were 
 raised, but no person was visible. He knocked, 
 and the servant who opened the door looked so 
 dejected that Frederic asked, hastily, " What is 
 the matter ?" 
 
 " Our old mistress, Mrs. Delaneux, is so ill 
 that the doctor is afraid she will never get 
 well." 
 
 " And Miss Ella ?" 
 
 " Well, sir, but very much distressed." 
 
 Frederic could well believe this, for, apart 
 from any selfish thought, he was himself dis- 
 tressed by the intelligence of Mrs. Delaneux's 
 dancer. "Who is with Miss Manvers?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Either Mrs. Cotton or Miss Mary is with 
 her constantly, and the doctor never leaves the 
 house, sir." 
 
 Frederic hesitated. He could not ask to see 
 Ella, and he could not resolve to leave her 
 without some expression of his sympathy. He 
 obtained permission to come in and write a 
 note, yet, when he was seated in the parlour 
 with writing materials before him, he was more 
 at a loss than he had ever been in his life, fear- 
 ful of saying too much or too little. At length 
 he wrote with a pencil on one of his cards, 
 " We leave N. O. to-morrow, dear Miss Man- 
 vers, and I could not go without expressing to 
 you my deep regret at the intelligence, just re- 
 ceived, of your dear grandmother's illness. If 
 if. will not disturb her, pray express this to her, 
 and believe me, you have my sincere prayers 
 that God would preserve her and bless you 
 both." 
 
 He returned to his ship with a heart as full 
 of sorrow as he had left it with ; but it was a 
 sorrow less hitter, for no indignation mingled 
 with it. It was not for himself he sorrowed 
 now it was for Ella. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PIRATES. 
 
 Ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be 
 water-thieves and land-thieves I mean pirates. 
 SHYLOCK. 
 
 The next day the brig was on the Gulf, and 
 Arthur Macon, as he looked forth from his 
 .state-room upon sky and water, and felt 
 " The waves bound beneath him as a steed 
 That knows its rider," 
 
 exclaimed exultingly, "Now [ shall be well 
 again." But when a week had passed, his 
 pulses heat as languidly and his aching head 
 throbbed as painfully as ever; and with the 
 heart-sickness of disappointed hope, Arthur 
 closed his eyes upon the flashing waters, and 
 thought of the green fields and flowery walks of 
 his home, and yet more of the mother's hand 
 which would there bathe his burning temples, 
 and the gentle voice which would soothe his fe- 
 verish irritation. These feelings were expressed 
 to Frederic, and reported by him to Captain L., 
 who promised that he would put the friends on 
 board the first vessel they spoke bound to any 
 northern port in the United States. The ob- 
 ject of the present cruise of the brig Enterprise 
 was the protection of American commerce by 
 the overawing, and, if possible, capturing some 
 of those lawless cruisers which had long in- 
 fested these seas, and which of late, under the 
 control of the celebrated Lafitte, had greatly in- 
 creased both in number and audacity. With 
 this intention, they sailed at first right across 
 the Gulf, coasted around several of the West 
 India Islands, without touching at any of them ; 
 swept west towards the Mexican coast, then 
 changed their course to the north and east, ap- 
 proaching as near the land as they dared, and 
 keeping a sharp look-out on the many indenta- 
 tions of those shores, which formed the lurking 
 places of the adventurers they were seeking. 
 Lafitte was at this period in the zenith of 
 his power, and, notwithstanding his professions 
 of amity towards the American government, his 
 cruisers showed as little regard to American 
 rights and as much for American property as 
 any other. The Enterprise was, by the calcula- 
 tion of those on board, nearly 'opposite the 
 Island of Barrataria, whose outline was not dis- 
 tinguishable from the neighbouring coast, when 
 in the early morning they discovered a vessel 
 with her sails furled, lying apparently at an- 
 chor, about half a mile nearer in shore, and a 
 mile farther east than themselves. Her posi- 
 tion was suspicious, and Captain L. determined 
 to approach near enough to bring her within 
 reach of his shot, and then send a boat oil 
 board to ascertain what she was. 
 
 A nearer approach rather diminished than in- 
 creased any suspicion of her warlike character; 
 for there was nothing in her build or her rigging 
 which indicated to the experienced eyes now 
 upon her, the fast-sailing privateersman. Be- 
 sides, she was evidently making no attempt to 
 escape their threatened supervision, but lay 
 as quietly as if she had been a packet taking in 
 a cargo or waiting for passengers at the quay at 
 New Orleans. Various opinions were formed 
 and uttered by the officers on deck as they drew 
 nearer and nearer to the quiet, but evidently 
 not deserted ship. We say " evidently not de- 
 serted," for figures might be seen moving about 
 her deck, among whom some thought they could 
 distinguish the waving garments of women
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 " Why, Stanley," said one of the young mid- 
 shipmen, " I've made her out. She is a packet 
 just run down here to take you and Macon on 
 board." 
 
 " That's no bad idea," exclaimed Frederic ; 
 41 for though it is not likely she has come for 
 that special purpose, she \vill serve us just as 
 well if it turn out that she is a packet." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Captain L. said, 
 " I cannot make out her business here ; but of 
 one thing I am certain she is a packet." He 
 then turned to give some order respecting the 
 boat that was to board her. Frederic stepped 
 up, and preferred a request that he might be 
 permitted to go in the boat, in order to ascer- 
 tain the destination of the vessel, and inspect 
 the accommodations which she could offer to 
 his friend, should she prove to be a packet. 
 Captain L. mused a moment after hearing him, 
 cast another look at the strange sail, and then 
 said, " Why, yes, Mr. Stanley ; I think she is 
 more likely to" serve your purpose than to give 
 us any work. You will take the command of 
 the boat, sir." 
 
 After giving him some orders, Captain L. 
 added, " I do not even suspect danger, Mr. 
 Stanley, or I should think it my duty to place a 
 more experienced hand at the helm ; but be 
 cautious, sir, be cautious ! for these sea-robbers 
 are as cunning as they are desperate." 
 
 The boat had already been lowered, and Fre- 
 deric, making his parting obeisance to his com- 
 mander, stepped into it, and was rowed rapidly 
 away. As he approached the other vessel, his 
 movements were observed with interest from 
 the ene he had left, and one of the officers, who 
 was looking through a glass, exclaimed, " Why, 
 they crowd to the side of the ship to welcome 
 Stanley as if he was an acquaintance. I sup- 
 pose the sight of his uniform is pleasant here- 
 about, willing as they seem to have been to 
 shake hands with Monsieur Lafitte. There he 
 is among them on deck : but what's the matter ? 
 he is in the boat again, and pulling off as if 
 all the pirates of the Gulf were in chase of him. 
 No, no ! he is only getting round to her other 
 side what can that be for ':" 
 
 At this moment the men on board the other 
 ship were seen to lower a boat and put off to- 
 wards the man-of-war, so that the curiosity of 
 the lookers-on was likely soon to be satisfied. 
 But we will not await their intelligence ; we will 
 follow Frederic Stanley, and learn his fortunes 
 for ourselves. 
 
 The observers from the brig had not been 
 wrong in saying that he was greeted as an ac- 
 quaintance on board the vessel he went to ex- 
 amine, for more than one lady and gentleman 
 there had met him frequently in New Orleans, 
 and, recognising them, he sprang with new 
 animation up the ship's side ; but there a tale 
 was told which sent him, as we have seen, even 
 more rapidly back to his boat. 
 
 The ship was, as had been supposed, a packet, 
 the William and Mary, bound to Baltimore from 
 New Orleans, and carrying, besides passengers, 
 a large quantity of specie in boxes. Of this the 
 pirates had probably been informed, for, soon 
 after entering the Gulf, she was met and takeu 
 possession of by one of their brigantines. They 
 had immediately altered the ship's course to- 
 wards her present anchorage-ground, and occu- 
 pied themselves, while approaching it, in getting 
 up the most valuable part of the cargo on deck, 
 showing no disposition to molest any one on 
 board who did not interfere with their move- 
 ments. They had cast anchor where the ship 
 now lay, this morning, about an hour before 
 the Enterprise was visible from her deck ; but 
 she was probably sooner seen from the topmast, 
 for the passengers had observed some unusual 
 commotion among their unwelcome visitors, 
 who, immediately on anchoring, had communi- 
 cated with the shore, between which and the 
 ship their boats had come and gone rapidly, 
 landing the cargo. These boats had probably 
 escaped observation from the Enterprise by 
 keeping the William and Mary in a range be- 
 tween them and her, till they had reached such 
 a distance as placed them under the shadow of 
 the shore, whose low line was still veiled by the 
 morning fog. The last boat had put off from 
 the ship on one side, almost as Frederic 
 touched the other. The pirates had seen his 
 approach, and fear of pursuit apparently had 
 made them commit the only outrage perpetrated 
 on the passengers. After the last box had been 
 lowered, and all but three of the men had taken 
 their places in the boat, these three, approach- 
 ing rapidly to the shrinking females, had 
 snatched two of their number, and, crying 
 " Hostages hostages !" had borne them, spite 
 of their struggles or the resistance of their un- 
 armed friends, over the ship's side into their 
 boat. These ladies were Miss De Villars, a 
 lovely girl from New Orleans, and Ella Manvei>. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A VISIT TO LAFITTE IN BARK AT ARIA. 
 
 'Tis much he dares, 
 
 And to that dauntless temper of Lis mind 
 He hath a isdorn that doth guide his valour 
 To act in safety. MACBETH. 
 
 It may be supposed that the account received 
 by Frederic Stanley of these events wa far more 
 rapid and less connected than that which we 
 have given. 
 
 He probably knew not, when he left the ship. 
 her name, or destination, or cargo ; but he knew 
 that pirates had been on board that one of 
 their boats had just left and that in that boat 
 was Ella Manvers. It was enough. Even his
 
 48 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; 
 
 untutored boatmen saw, by the flashing eye, the 
 dilated nostril, the compressed lip, the knitted 
 brow, as he flung himself again into the boat, 
 that something had occurred greatly to discom- 
 pose their leader. A few rapid words told them 
 all which it was necessary they should know 
 that pirates had been on board that they had 
 carried off women that they did not probably 
 outnumber themselves were, like them, in an 
 open boat, and might be reached before they 
 could land. The promises of reward made by 
 the excited Frederic to them, if successful, were 
 scarcely necessary to nerve every arm and lire 
 every heart to do and dare its utmost. 
 
 They shot, like an arrow, around the ship, 
 and there before them was the pirates' boat, 
 and, conspicuous in her stern, the two female 
 forms, placed there, doubtless, to prevent any 
 attempt to fire on them, should they be pursued. 
 They were already full half way to the shore, 
 but 'they were evidently deeply laden, and, as 
 their cargo was too valuable to be willingly re- 
 linquished, Frederic hoped yet to overtake them. 
 His boat was larger and better manned, as well 
 as he could judge at that distance. Could he 
 once get alongside of them, all he wished might 
 be accomplished. 
 
 The oars bent to the vigorous strokes of his 
 men the boat flew like a sea-gull over the 
 waves yet still he cried, " On ! on ! the largest 
 reward for him who pulls the best oar." 
 
 As he neared the other boat, he tried to at- 
 tain a position which would enable his crew, 
 when within pistol-shot, to use their fire-arms 
 without danger to those they were striving to 
 rescue ; but this design was seen, and skilfully 
 baffled by him who guided the pirate bark. But 
 the chase could not last long. Frederic's lighter 
 and better- manned boat was nearing the other 
 every moment, and he exclaimed, exultingly, 
 "We shall have them we shall have them." 
 
 An old boatswain, who had probably been 
 less excited than the young men around him, 
 said, cautiously, " They be leading us very close 
 in shore, Mr. Stanley ; and don't you think it 
 sort o' strange, sir, that they ha'n't fired on us ?" 
 
 " No, no ; they are afraid of being heard by 
 the brig, and drawing other eyes upon them. 
 We shall have them now we shall have them." 
 
 It did, indeed, seem so, for they had reached 
 a broad line of marsh, which, extending a mile 
 or more along the shore, appeared to present, 
 during its whole course, an insuperable barrier 
 to lauding, and Frederic's boat was so near that 
 he could distinguish the graceful form and 
 bowed head of Ella Manners could see the 
 dark faces and energetic movements of the 
 pirate crew. A moment more, and, with a skil- 
 ful movement of the helm, he was by their side. 
 His hand was extended to grasp their boat, 
 when suddenly it wheeled away from him, and 
 darted through an opening in the marsh, im- 
 perceptible till you reached it. " Back ! back !" 
 
 shouted Frederic to his men, for his boat had 
 overshot it. 
 
 Two back strokes of their oars, aud they too 
 were in the deep, but narrow passage. The 
 pirate boat was already out of sight ; bat there 
 was a jutting point of land thickly wooded, 
 around which the creek they were pursuing 
 swept boldly up. At one glance, Frederic's 
 eye took in these features of the scene ; the 
 next moment it seemed but a moment his 
 boat dashed around the point, and her keel 
 touched the sandy beach, on which already 
 stood the pirate crew and their fair hostages, 
 while in a cove on their right, whose deep basin 
 had been probably at least enlarged by the hand 
 of man, lay a brigantine, with its cannon point- 
 ing towards their heads. A grin of exultation 
 sat on the features of those whom he had been 
 chasing, while dismay was visible in the f.tces 
 of his own men. 
 
 But Frederic Stanley was now to feel and to 
 evince the advantages of that self-discipline to 
 which he had subjected himself. No fear either 
 for others or himself dimmed his perceptions, 
 retarded his decisions, or flung even a passing 
 shadow on his face. Calm, self-possessed, he 
 rose in his boat, and sprang lightly to the land. 
 While surprise at this movement still held those 
 near him in check, Frederic glanced around, and 
 selecting one who seemed the leader, advanced 
 towards him, saying, " I wish to see Monsieur 
 Lafitte. I come from Captain L., of the United 
 States brig Enterprise." 
 
 He had already accomplished much for him- 
 self; he was an envoy, not a prisoner. The 
 man he had addressed "looked towards the brig- 
 antine before he replied, but then it was with 
 some show of respect, though in sullen tones, that 
 he said, "I willlead you to Captain Lafitte, sir.'' 
 
 Frederic looked back at Ella and her com- 
 
 Eanion with an encouraging expression. Ella 
 ad evidently recognised his voice, and even 
 through her veil he could see the bright eye 
 and the smiling lip, which told that hope al- 
 most confidence of safety, had entered her 
 heart ; but, except the tightened clasp of her 
 hands and a single quick step towards him, 
 there was nothing to show to a spectator that 
 she had heard or seen aught to move her. That 
 step had been seen, and a man stretched out 
 his arm to seize her. Shrinking from his touch, 
 Ella drew herself back and stood still, as if de- 
 termined not again to risk such profanation. 
 
 Not so was it with Miss De Villars. Too 
 much stupified by terror to notice what was 
 passing, it was not till Frederic turned his face 
 towards her that she had been conscious of his 
 presence. Then, darting forward, before she 
 could be arrested, she had wound her arms 
 around his, crying, " Oh, Mr. Stanley ! save 
 us ! save us !" 
 
 She was roughly seized, while Frederic vainly 
 endeavoured to soothe her with assurances of 
 safety and speedy deliverance.
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 49 
 
 Her cries brought another actor on the scene 
 one who had witnessed the events we have 
 described from the cabin of the brigantine, and 
 who had probably intended to receive Frederic 
 Stanley there ; but who, having perceived that 
 he wore the American uniform, and desiring, 
 therefore, to make a favourable impression on 
 him, judged it wise to interfere between the 
 struggling and shrieking girl and his rough and 
 unscrupulous follower. We need scarcely add 
 that the new-comer was the famous Lafitte, who 
 long held undisputed sovereignty over the Island 
 of Barrataria, on which these occurrences took 
 place. 
 
 Rumour, with her hundred tongues, has 
 doubtless greatly magnified the difficulty and 
 the daring of Lafitte's achievements. The con- 
 ception of his plan indicated boldness, reck- 
 lessness of spirit ; its execution was compara- 
 tively easy. The Gulf of Mexico, the highway 
 for all vessels trading to the rich islands which 
 it imbosoms, was at that time destitute of any 
 effective marine for the protection of commerce, 
 England being too much occupied in maintain- 
 ing her ocean sovereignty nearer home to be 
 very attentive to it here, and our own naval 
 power being yet in its infancy. It scarcely 
 needed a practical acquaintance with the smug- 
 gler's trade to enable Lafitte to perceive the 
 adaptation to its purposes of shores, in which 
 numerous creeks and small bays would give 
 shelter and concealment to small vessels, while 
 they were unapproachable to those of a larger 
 class. When he joined bolder robbery to smug- 
 gling, he could start out from these lurking- 
 places, like a spider from its web, on the un- 
 armed trader, rifle her stores, and be again safe 
 in his covert ere the report of the robbery had 
 reached the ear of that authority which, unable 
 to protect, aimed only to punish. The lawless 
 and ungoverned state of society in the Spanish 
 West Indies, and in that part of the United 
 States of which he was a neighbour, enabled 
 him easily to dispose of his ill-gotten stores. 
 He was probably not blood-thirsty by nature, 
 and as murder was not a profitable business, he 
 had no temptation to pursue a course which 
 would have excited against him the determined 
 vengeance of the whole civilized world. It was 
 in the hands of his more brutal or more cow- 
 ardly successors that his trade became a bloody 
 butchery, from which humanity starts back ap- 
 palled. Such, according to the best authenti- 
 cated accounts, was Lafitte ; and thus the chi- 
 valric Charles De Moor of the sea sinks into a 
 smuggler and pirate, who, preferring gold to 
 blood, would not kill those who submitted 
 quietly to being robbed. His lavish expendi- 
 ture on his pleasures or his caprices of the 
 wealth which he had snatched from the honest, 
 pains-taking trader, or from his helpless widow 
 and feeble orphan, gained him the often mis- 
 used epithet of generous, and his fine personal 
 appearance in no small degree increased the 
 
 illusion in his favour with those who were 
 brought into actual contact with him. 
 
 " Let the lady alone, Pedro," cried a voice 
 from the brigantine, whose deep, stern tones 
 caused all to start who heard it, some with sur- 
 prise alone, some, perchance, with fear. Of 
 these last was not Frederic Stanley. He looked 
 in the direction whence it came, and saw on the 
 deck of the vessel a man of tall and well-propor- 
 tioned figure, and erect and haughty carriage, 
 the fine features of whose face were stamped 
 with an expression of intelligence and spirit, 
 while his dark complexion seemed rather the 
 effect of exposure to sun and sea than the 
 original colouring of nature. 
 
 Frederic felt at once that he was in the pre- 
 sence of the wild chieftain of whom he had 
 heard such incredible tales ; and when, the next 
 moment, this man, springing from the deck 
 with a lightness which would have seemed 
 scarcely possible for one of his size, alighted 
 within a few feet of him, he advanced towards 
 him without the slightest hesitation, and, taking 
 off his hat, said, " Captain Lafitte, I presume ?" 
 
 With a gentlemanly courtesy and ease which 
 would have suited a very different station from 
 that he at present occupied, Lafitte received and 
 returned the greeting, adding, " An officer in 
 the United States service, I perceive by your 
 uniform, sir." 
 
 " You are right, sir. Mr. Stanley, of the 
 United States brig Enterprise, now lying off this 
 shore." 
 
 " I am aware of that fact, Mr. Stanley." 
 As Lafitte spoke, a slight smile was perceptible 
 upon his lip, succeeded instantly by a sterner 
 expression of the brow as he added, " I am ac- 
 quainted with the cruise just made by the En- 
 terprise, and its objects." 
 
 " Its object, Captain Lafitte, was the protec- 
 tion of American property, which has of late 
 suffered much in this sea, and the punishment 
 ., of those who do not regard it with the respect 
 ;: which we have understood, sir, you demand for 
 it from your cruisers." 
 
 Frederic Stanley's concluding words dissipated 
 the cloud which the early part of this address 
 had called up on Lafitte's face. He replied to 
 it only by a bow, and then said, " Permit me, 
 Mr. Stanley, before I inquire to what cause I am 
 indebted for the honour of your visit, to say a 
 few words to these ladies, who have been al- 
 ready too long neglected." Stepping towards 
 the ladies, he added, witli a graceful bow, " I 
 trust you will pardon, ladies, the discourtesy 
 which brought you here unwilling visitors. It 
 was a measure not dictated by myself, yet I 
 doubt not it was necessary, being, as I have 
 understood, a precaution suggested by some 
 doubt of the peaceable intentions of your friend 
 here," glancing with a smile towards Stanley. 
 " You have not, I hope, been treated with any 
 indignity ; if you have," here his voice lost all 
 its softness, " point out the offender, arid you
 
 50 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 shall witness his punishment." He paused, 
 looking sternly around on his followers. 
 
 Ella Manvers saw that he awaited au answer, 
 and in low but firm tones, she replied, No 
 indignity, but that of being forced from our 
 friends." 
 
 " That, I have already said, was necessary," 
 Lafitte quickly responded ; " but you are, I 
 assure you, in no danger, and will be at liberty 
 to return with Mr. Stanley, if his boat will ac- 
 commodate you." 
 
 " Perfectly well, perfectly well," said Fre- 
 deric ; " but before we go, Captain Lafitte " 
 
 " Before you go, sir," interrupted Lafitte, " I 
 hope that the ladies and yourself will honour 
 my poor dwelling with your presence, and par- 
 take of some refreshments." 
 
 The sudden retreat of both ladies marked 
 their reluctance, and Frederic began to decline 
 the invitation, but, again interrupting him, 
 Lafitte said, " With you, sir, I must have some 
 more private conference before we part. The 
 ladies, I presume, would prefer accompanying 
 us a short distance to remaining herewith their 
 present companions." 
 
 Ella Manvers looked in the ruffianly faces 
 around her, and felt that she should indeed be 
 loth to remain with them without the protection 
 of Frederic's presence, or the control of their 
 more civilised, if not less dangerous commander. 
 Miss De Villars would probably still have feared 
 to advance, but Ella, drawing her arm through 
 her own, stepped forward, thus manifesting 
 their intention to proceed. Lafitte immediately 
 spoke to one of his followers, who set off briskly 
 through the wood on their left, and then, turn- 
 ing to the ladies, said, " Now, ladies, if you will 
 pardon me for preceding you in a path which 
 will admit but one at a time, I will show the 
 way to you and Mr. Stanley." 
 
 A narrow footpath through the luxuriant 
 woods which clothed the fertile soil of this 
 island terminated, at about two hundred yards 
 from the spot where this interview had occurred, 
 in an opening sufficiently extensive to give space 
 for a moderately large country-house, with a 
 yard containing the usual outbuildings, while 
 stretching on one side towards the wood lay a 
 garden; on the other an orchard, filled, ap- 
 parently, with young fruit-trees. The house 
 was two stories in height, but roughly con- 
 structed, and unpainted. As they approached 
 it, Lafitte drew back, and ushered his guests 
 through a piazza and a hall, which extended from 
 the front to the rear of the building, into a 
 parlour. Nowhere was there visible any of 
 that barbaric magnificence which the dwellings 
 of pirates have been supposed to exhibit. The 
 floors were uncarpetcd, and the furniture simple 
 and rude in its construction. 
 
 As soon as the ladies were seated, Lafitte 
 drew a whistle from his vest and sounded it. In 
 a few minutes a servant entered bearing refresh- 
 ments, among which was quite an array of wine 
 
 and liqueurs. These were, of course, declined ; 
 but Ella, willing to show her acceptance of the 
 courtesy with which their strange host seemed 
 disposed to treat them, took an orange, and 
 persuaded her friend to share it with her. 
 Frederic waited a few minutes for Lafitte to 
 commence the conference to which he had 
 alluded, but, as he did not, he at length said, 
 " It is getting late, Captain Lafitte, and I must, 
 with your permission, return to the brig as soon 
 as possible ; but, before we part, I am com- 
 pelled, sir, to tell you, that the vessel fro:n 
 which these ladies were taken is an America'-, 
 packet, sailing from one port in the United 
 States to another, and, consequently, that your 
 followers, in molesting her, have violated the 
 sanctity of American rights and property." 
 
 A dubious smile passed over Latitte's face as 
 he replied, " On this subject, Mr. Stanley, I am 
 better informed than you are. The ship is 
 American, and therefore she has neither been 
 injured, nor was it intended to detain her longer 
 than was necessary to land that portion of her 
 cargo which was Spanish wholly Spanish, sir, 
 and owned by Spaniards." 
 
 " But, by the laws of nations, being in an 
 American vessel, Captain Lafitte, it should have 
 been respected as American property." 
 
 " I know little, and care, perhaps, less, Mr. 
 Stanley, about the laws of nations. My own 
 law is to take possession of Spanish property 
 wherever I hear of it and can get at it. But I 
 will write to Captain L. himself on this subject. 
 You will take my letter, if I convince you that 
 it contains nothing contraband ?" said Lafitte, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Certainly," was Frederic's reply. 
 Lafitte instantly seated himself at a table, and, 
 unlocking a small portable desk, occupied him- 
 self for some minutes in writing. He soon handed 
 his letter to Frederic, bidding him read it. As 
 Frederic read it, the colour deepened on his 
 cheek, and before he returned the letter, his 
 eyes turned anxiously on Ella. Should he, by- 
 opposition, arouse the sleeping tiger in tin's 
 man, what might be the consequences to her ? 
 Another glance at the letter decided him. Re- 
 turning it, he said, firmly, " Captain Lafitte, I 
 cannot take that letter to Captain L." 
 
 " And why not, sir ':" The red flush bad 
 risen to the pirate's brow the sparkle of passion 
 was in his eye. 
 
 Frederic fixed his gaze full upon him as he 
 replied, " Because, in doing so, I should lose 
 both your respect and my own. You woulu 
 feel, Captain Lafitte, that uothirg but cowardice 
 could induce me to do it, and you arc too brave 
 yourself not to despise a coward/' 
 
 " But to what do you object ':" asked Lafitto, 
 in a less excited tone ; for he was impressed by 
 the coolness of his guest, and pleased with the 
 compliment to his bravery. 
 
 " To that sentence, sir," said Frederic, laying 
 his finger on the letter. " And I object to it
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 51 
 
 because it conveys the impression that I have 
 acquainted myself with the character of this 
 cargo, and approved your course in relation to 
 it. This impression may not be intended " 
 
 " Oh no ! I see it now ! I will change it," 
 interrupted Lafitte ; then added, " your English 
 language is so ambiguous." 
 
 This expression was the only thing that would 
 have led any who heard him to suppose that the 
 English was not his language, for he spoke it 
 perfectly well. 
 
 The objectionable passage being changed in 
 the second copy of the letter, Frederic took it. 
 and promised to deliver it as soon as he reached 
 the ship, to which, he added, he would now, 
 with Captain Lafitte's permission, return. His 
 companions instantly rose, and their host again 
 marshalling the way, they were soon at the 
 little cove, where their boat awaited them. 
 
 As they came in sight of it Lafitte said, " You 
 may think, Mr. Stanley, that you have obtained 
 an important secret in learning one approach to 
 this island ; but, besides that the brigantine's 
 guns command it, as you see, and that it is so 
 narrow as to admit but one boat at a time, I 
 doubt whether you could find it again without 
 a knowledge of certain marks which you are not 
 likely to have observed, or without having, as 
 at present, one of my own boats for a guide." 
 
 When the ladies had taken their places in the 
 boat, Frederic made his adieu, thanking Lafitte 
 for his courtesies. 
 
 " I only wish," said Lafitte in reply, " that 
 you could have stayed longer, Mr. Stanley, and 
 allowed me to show you what fine sport we have 
 c;i this island. You would have enjoyed it, I 
 am sure, and your society would have given me 
 pleasure. I like a frank, bold spirit wherever I 
 find it, and I saw that yours Mas such in the 
 first movement you made after I looked upon 
 you. Had it been otherwise, I might have 
 acted differently. Farewell, sir." 
 
 They shook hands cordially, and Frederic en- 
 tered the boat. 
 
 " May I not hope for one kind word at part- 
 ing from you, fair ladies ?" asked Lafitte, with 
 a smile. 
 
 ' Good morning, sir," faltered Miss De Vil- 
 lars. 
 
 " Farewell, sir," said the sweet, low voice of 
 Ella Manvers ; " mr.ny thanks for your fair 
 treatment." 
 
 " Shove off/' said Frederic to his men, and 
 in a brief minute the point was rounded, and 
 the island and its inhabitants concealed from 
 him and his companions. A few more strokes, 
 and they were through the narrow opening in 
 the marsh. Before them was the glassy sea/the 
 friendly vessels, and more than one boa't return- 
 ing from different directions to the man-of-war, 
 from which Frederic instantly conjectured they 
 had been sent in search of him. The full sense 
 of safety awakened by this scene was manifested 
 very differently by his two companions. 
 THE NOVEL NFWSPAPER. No. 34 T. 
 
 " Thank Heaven '." exclaimed Miss De Vu- 
 lars, lightly and joyously, as she threw up her 
 veil, " we are out of the lion's den." 
 
 Ella Manvers had thrown up her veil too, for 
 she was faint, and needed air, but she said not 
 a word ; and as Frederic looked at her, he saw 
 her face pale with intense emotion, and her 
 serene eyes and clasped hands elevated to the 
 Heaven before which her heart was doubtless 
 prostrated. Suddenly she turned her head 
 their eyes met, and catching his hand before he 
 could prevent her, she touched it with her lips. 
 exclaiming, il God bless you, Mr. Stanley !" 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 " Ella, dear Ella," said Frederic, uncon- 
 sciously, in his agitation, using that familiar 
 epithet, which had never before escaped his lips 
 "Ella, dear Ella, how I have suffered for 
 you ; but you are safe now." 
 
 He might have said more more than he 
 could afterward have excused himself for, with 
 his engagement to Mr. Manvers and his know- 
 ledge of that gentleman's present impressions ; 
 but, though the presence of the boatmen would 
 have opposed no barrier to their murmured 
 tones, Miss De Villars did not suffer them long 
 to forget that they had an attentive observer a: 
 their side. 
 
 " Why, Ella," she exclaimed, " what is the 
 matter now ? While we were on that detestable 
 island, and I was ready to cry my eyes out, you 
 were looking as composed and moving as quietly 
 as if you were in your own parlour at home : 
 and now that I am wild with delight, you are 
 in tears. I do not understand you at all, Ella." 
 " I do not understand myself, Louisa," said 
 Ella, smiling through her tears, " except that 
 the tears which I would not suffer to come then 
 will not be restrained now." 
 
 Little more was said before they reached the 
 packet. Frederic ascended her deck with the 
 ladies, and, amid the tumult of congratulations 
 and thanks, drew the captain aside, and, ascer- 
 taining that he had accommodations for his 
 friend and himself, secured his promise to 
 wait where he then was till Arthur and he 
 should come on board. From Mr. de Villars he 
 learned that Mrs. Delaneux's illness had proved 
 fatal, and that Ella Manvers was going from 
 her now lonely and desolate home to join her 
 father in Washington. 
 
 The report conveyed by the boat from the 
 William and Mary had caused Frederic Stan- 
 ley's movements to be observed from the Enter- 
 prise with the most intense interest. Doubt- 
 less Captain L. wished then that he had placed 
 a more experienced hand at the helm ; but that 
 was no time to rectify mistakes or make 
 changes. A boat sent then from the man-of- 
 war could have no hope of Hearing the pirates 
 before they reached the shore, and, once on 
 land, they were safe and the ladies at their 
 mercy. Though sometimes screened from their 
 view by the William and Mary, Frederic was
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST 
 
 often enough visible to permit those whose eyes 
 never wandered from his course to trace his 
 progress; and, like him, they were exulting in 
 the certainty of his success, when his boat and 
 that he chased vanished as suddenly as if 
 the sea, over which they had just been riding so 
 buoyantly, had ingulfed them. After a half 
 hour's vain watching for his reappearance, 
 Captain L. sent out two boats, with directions 
 to proceed, as nearly as possible, to the point at 
 which he had last been seen, and ascertain 
 whether there was any inlet that he might have 
 entered. It will not seem surprising that none 
 in these boats should have perceived the nar- 
 row opening in the marsh through which Fre- 
 deric had followed the pirates, ^uid that they 
 were returning, bewildered, from a bootless 
 search, when he again emerged into the open sea. 
 Captain L. received Frederic's report in pri- 
 vate, and, notwithstanding the conciliatory and 
 respectful tone of Lafitte's communication to 
 himself, he seemed greatly disposed to avail 
 himself of Frederic's accidental discovery for 
 making an effort, with all his boats well 
 manned and armed, to destroy the tiger in his 
 lair. He was soon convinced, however, of the 
 impracticability of such an attempt, as his 
 boats must approach singly, and land under the 
 guns of the brigantine. 
 
 " But if the creek is so narrow, how did 
 they get the brigantine in ?" asked Captain L. 
 
 "Doubtless by some other passage, sir, 
 which they were too much on their guard 
 to betray to me." 
 
 At the conclusion of their conference Captain 
 L. said, " It gives me pleasure, Mr. Stanley, to 
 express my high approbation of your conduct 
 this morning. Many men most men would, 
 under the like circumstances, have been led 
 into the same peril, but few very few of any 
 age or experience would have extricated them- 
 selves with such mingled prudence and spirit. 
 It shall not be forgotten, sir." 
 
 How Frederic's cheek flushed and his eye 
 kindled at such praise ! 
 
 In less than an hour the friends were on 
 board the William and Mary. Captain L. 
 handed to each of them, at parting, an open let- 
 ter for the Secretary of the Navy. Arthur 
 found, on perusing his, that he was presented to 
 that functionary by his commander handsomely 
 and kindly, and, though the state of his health 
 was -.mentioned as the cause of his return, nothing 
 was said of the duel, which, probably, Captain 
 L. did not regard as at all reprehensible. 
 But yet higher was Frederic's gratification when 
 he read, in addition to the general terms of ap- 
 probation and interest coupled with his name, 
 Captain L.'s eulogium on the qualities he had 
 displayed in the adventures of the morning, 
 which, as they comprised the only uncompel- 
 led visit that had probably then been made to 
 the pirates of Barrataria, he had judged worthy 
 of a very full narration. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HOMEWARD-BOUND. 
 Though the seas threaten, they ore rafrciful. 
 
 The arrival of Frederic Stanley and Arthur 
 Macon on board the William and Mary was the 
 signal for her departure. The " Yo, heave oh" 
 of her seamen was soon heard on board the 
 brig, as they raised the anchor and unfurled 
 her sails to the light but favouring breeze. The 
 Enterprise, too, proceeded on her course, 
 which, without departing from her original in- 
 tentions, enabled her to convoy the packet be- 
 yond the limits within which her late visi- 
 tors had hitherto confined their depredations. 
 
 The passage of the Gulf was tedious, but, af- 
 ter leaving that, fair breezes wafted 'he packet 
 quickly on towards her destined port. Arthur 
 Macon's pallid face and languid movements ex- 
 cited much interest in his fellow-passengers, 
 and all were desirous to add to his comfort or 
 to beguile his weariness. Supported by Fre- 
 deric, he left his uncomfortable berth each morn- 
 ing for the deck, where he lay all day upon a 
 settee, with some friend ever near him, ready 
 to talk for his amusement, or to be silent for 
 his repose. Yet Arthur was sad. He felt him- 
 self so feeble, so dependent, that he became 
 nervously fearful lest his state should continue, 
 so as to forbid his being in service soon again ; 
 and to retire now now, when all seemed 
 to render a war inevitable with the greatest na- 
 val power on earth, would be destruction 
 indeed to Arthur's aspiring hopes. Depressed 
 by such thoughts as these, he would look at 
 Frederic, at his vigorous frame and buoyant 
 movements, till sometimes compelled to close 
 his eyes quickly, that he might hide from 
 others the springing tears he was too weak 
 wholly to suppress, or sometimes, in a less 
 gentle mood, would burst forth into execra- 
 tion of his unfortunate destiny. Destiny ! 
 when the web of our fortunes is dark and 
 gloomy, how few are willing to admit that they 
 have woven it themselves. 
 
 Frederic saw with the deepest pity this de- 
 jection, and used every effort to rouse him 
 from it. He spoke to Ella Manvers of his evi- 
 dent mental sufferings, till her gentle spirit 
 longed to soothe and win him back to cheerful- 
 ness. Daily, as she walked the deck, she 
 would pause beside his couch to inquire of his 
 health, and when the presence of Mrs. De Vil- 
 lars gave her courage, she would sit nc~: him 
 and converse. 
 
 One evening a still, beautiful evening 
 when the sun had set in a cloudless sky, and 
 the new moon and a few bright stars were 
 shedding a mild, chastened light upon the 
 waters, Mrs. and Miss De Villars, Ella, and 
 Frederic were seated on the deck, near Ar-
 
 OR. WHICH MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 53 
 
 thur's couch. It was an hour and a scene more 
 favourable to thought than to conversation, 
 and, except by an occasional remark from Mrs. 
 or Miss De Villars, silence had been long unin- 
 terrupted, when Arthur said, " Miss Manvers, I 
 have been haunted to-day by the half-re- 
 membered words and tones of a song I once 
 heard from you, of which the concluding line 
 of each verse is, ' The man is coming home.' " 
 
 " You mean the Wanderer's Return ?'' said 
 Ella. 
 
 " Yes; will you not sing it for me ?" 
 *Had Arthur been well Ella would have 
 declined, not from bashfulness, or prudery, or 
 coquetry, for Ella was quite free from all these, 
 but from a natural and pure emotion. Her 
 grandmother had loved to hear her sing, and 
 even in her last illness the restlessness of fever 
 had been sometimes soothed by Ella's chanting, 
 in low under-tones, some simple melody. Since 
 her death Ella had never sang, and it will 
 be easily believed that she could not do so for 
 the first time without a rush of tender thoughts 
 and feelings welluigh overpowering. Still she 
 subdued them. Ella's voice was at all times 
 more remarkable for its sweetness and flexibility 
 than for its compass. Its tones were now un- 
 usually soft and touching, as she sang to a 
 plaintive melody the following stanzas. 
 
 THE WANDERER'S RETURN. 
 
 The boy went forth with hope, whose glow 
 
 Was like the noon of day, 
 And heart as white as winter's snow 
 
 Ere touched by morning's ray. 
 With hope, whose glow had faded all 
 
 To twilight's dusky gloom, 
 And heart too darkly shaded all, 
 
 The man is coming home. 
 
 Buoyant and fresh, and full of life, 
 The boy went forth to roam : 
 
 Weary and worn with toil and strife, 
 The man is coming home. 
 
 " Mother, farewell ! bv sea by shore- 
 Free as the wind I'll roam." 
 
 " Mother, I couie oh ! take once more 
 Thy weary wanderer home." 
 
 When Ella paused no voice thanked her, no 
 word was spoken till she rose to leave the 
 deck, when Arthur, withdrawing his hands 
 from his face, over which they had been clasped 
 while she sang, said, " Thank you, thank you, 
 Miss Manvers. Your song expressed my feel- 
 ings so perfectly, that my spirit seemed breath- 
 ing itself out through your sweet tones." 
 
 More than once afterward Arthur asked 
 the same indulgence, and was never re- 
 fused. Yet, with all Ella's kindness to Arthur 
 Macon, there was in her manner a certain 
 indescribable something which guarded him 
 from any misapprehension of her feelings. He 
 could not hope that her interest in him had in 
 
 it one spark of that feeling he had once sought 
 to awaken. Her tones her looks her actions 
 were gentle, and soothing, and compassionate ; 
 but Arthur felt that her compassion was not 
 " akin to love," and he sometimes wonderingly 
 asked himself, where did one so unsophisti- 
 cated, so untutored in the world's ways, learn 
 thus to evince the most earnest kindness, yet 
 check the slightest presumption ? It was an in- 
 stinct- the gift of nature to a delicate woman. 
 The world cannot teach it. 
 
 We have said that Ella's manner forbade Ar- 
 thur to hope ; we will not as confidently aver 
 that it gave Frederic no fear ; for he was under 
 the influence of a sentiment not always reason- 
 able in its requirements. Indeed, we must 
 acknowledge that more than once, when 
 he heard Ella's softened tones as she ad- 
 dressed his friend, or marked her countenance, 
 pensive as it was from her own late bereave- 
 ment, become yet more deeply shaded while 
 she listened to his sad retrospections or sadder 
 forebodings, Frederic turned away with a pang 
 at his heart. His susceptibility was probably 
 increased by his own painful position. 
 
 His intercourse with Ella, after their first ex- 
 citing interview, had been constrained pain- 
 fully constrained on his part, and certainly 
 wanting, on hers, in that frank simplicity 
 which had, till then, characterized her man- 
 ners to him, and which would, doubtless, have 
 quickly restored him to his former ease. Fre- 
 derick was constrained, because there was 
 much in his heart which, in the present state 
 of Mr. Manvers's feelings towards himself, he 
 did not think it proper to express to Ella, and 
 which yet struggled wildly for expression. He 
 never was alone with Ella, that he did not de- 
 termine to ascertain whether she was ac- 
 quainted with her father's evident change of 
 feelings towards him, and its cause; and 
 should that cause he, as he supposed, misappre- 
 hension of his conduct in his interview with 
 Captain Granby we continue, for our own 
 convenience, to call this adventurer by bis 
 self-assumed name and title to make her 
 acquainted with the real circumstances of that 
 interview. Yet this determination was never 
 executed. The words of question or of ex- 
 planation just hovering on his lips were ever 
 driven back by a countenance and a manner 
 in Ella so composed, or, as Frederic felt, so 
 cold, that he found it impossible to speak 
 to her of himself. " I will not trouble her 
 with any thing so uninteresting," he would say 
 bitterly to himself at such times, yet in less 
 than an hour would blame Ms folly for letting 
 the opportunity he had desired pass unim- 
 proved, and resolve to be more linn the next 
 time. 
 
 And why was Ella changed to Frederic 
 Stanley ? Had she discovered his feelings, and 
 did she desire here, too, to silence what she 
 could not return ? or was she less frank, less
 
 54 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 natural, because she -was for the first time con- 
 scious of something in her own heart that she 
 desirerl to conceal ? Time will reveal. What- 
 ever was the cause, it may be supposed that, 
 while their intercourse continued such as we 
 have described, it could give little pleasure to 
 Frederic Stanley. Indeed, more than once, 
 after some vain effort to overleap the barrier 
 which forbade his approach to the frank friend- 
 liness of their > past acquaintance a barrier, 
 probably, imperceptible to others, though too 
 plain to him he turned away, saying, in his 
 heart, " I am thankful that this cannot last 
 long; for better not meet at all than meet 
 thus." Yet, when he found himself within 
 a day's easy sail of Baltimore, with strange 
 inconsistency he shrank from the approach- 
 ing separation, feeling that, with her in- 
 difference and her father's present coldness 
 towards him, there could be little hope of 
 their reunion. 
 
 The evening before their arrival, Ella Man- 
 vers had withdrawn from her friends, and 
 stood long at the ship's side, looking forth 
 upon the moonlit waters of the Bay of Chesa- 
 peake and the dim, outline of its distant shore. 
 She was happy, for she thought of her father, 
 and the rapidly-approaching moment when she 
 should again be folded to his heart ; yet she 
 was sad, for she thought, too, of those whom 
 life could never give back to her embrace. 
 
 Frederick passed and repassed her many 
 times in his deck promenade, wishing to speak 
 to her, yet fearing to annoy her by breaking in 
 upon the loneliness she had evidently sought. 
 At length he ventured to pause by her side, 
 with some observation on the beauty of the 
 evening. 
 
 " Beautiful indeed !" 
 
 This slight reply did not seem to encourage 
 farther attempt at conversation, and Frederic 
 was about to pass on ; but, remembering how 
 soon they would part, he checked his steps and 
 made another effort. 
 
 " With this breeze we shall be in Baltimore 
 in a few hours." 
 
 " And to-morrow, Mr. De Villars says, we 
 shall be in Washington with my father." 
 
 " Ah," thought Frederic, " no sorrow t 
 parting here !" 
 
 Again he was turning away, when Ella, in a 
 low and timid voice, said, "Mr. Stanley, I 
 received the card which you left on your last 
 visit to Laurel Grove. I delivered your message 
 to my dear grandmother, and and " 
 
 Ella had spoken from the first with hesi- 
 tation ; her voice was now broken by a sob, 
 and as Frederic looked at her, he saw that 
 tears were streaming down her cheeks. Deeply 
 affected, he said, " Do not distress yourself 
 thus, Miss Manvers. I know how greatly any 
 reference to that period must affiict you ; and, 
 believe me, I valued her you mourn too highly 
 not to sympathize truly with your affliction ; 
 
 but let us now turn to happier thoughts 
 the meeting of to-morrow " 
 
 Ella had by this time acquired the control of 
 her emotion, and thjugh her tears continued to 
 flow and her voice to falter, she interrupted 
 him, saying, " Nay, Mr. Stanley, there are no 
 thoughts happier than those of my dear grand- 
 mother, though they cause my tears ; besides, I 
 have a message to you, which I must deliver. I 
 read your note to her, sir, and she bade me, 
 should I ever meet you, to say that she left 
 you her blessing." 
 
 " This is, indeed, a precious message," said 
 Frederic, after a moment's pause. " It is very 
 pleasant to know that I was regarded by one so 
 excellent one in whose counsel I placed such 
 confidence, that, on the verv afternoon to 
 which you allude, I was about to ask it on 
 a subject in which both my peace and my repu- 
 tation were involved." 
 
 He paused, and Ella looked at him for a 
 moment inquiringly; but, ere he could pro- 
 ceed, she lowered her eyes, saying, " She felt a 
 true regard for you, sir;" then, with a formal 
 " good night," moved towards the cabin. 
 
 Thus baffled again, and conscious that it was 
 the last opportunity he could have for explana- 
 tion, Frederic turned disappointed away, and, 
 ere the next morning's sun arose, the William 
 and Mary was lying at the dock in Baltimore. 
 
 It was now May, 1812, and the declaration 
 of war with England, made in little more than 
 a month afterward, was confidently anticipated. 
 Assertions of its certainty met the eye in every 
 public journal the ear from almost every 
 group of men. In view of such an event, Fre- 
 derick was doubly anxious to present himself 
 to the Secretary of the Navy, and secure an 
 early return to active service. Our marine was 
 too small to give employment to all our officers, 
 and as all were eager to be employed, the 
 slightest delay in his application might' be fatal 
 to his hopes. Arthur was no less interested in 
 this than himself, and he vehemently urged his 
 friend to go at once to Washington,' and to in- 
 clude his name in the application for orders. It 
 was therefore decided that Mrs. and Miss 
 I)e Villars, and Mr. Macon, having been estab- 
 lished in an hotel in Baltimore, Miss Manvers, 
 under the protection of Mr. De Villars, and ac- 
 companied by Frederic, should proceed to 
 Washington in an extra, as a coach appropriated 
 to one party is called. 
 
 That this arrangement was agreeable to Fre- 
 deric Stanley will not be doubted. His pleasure 
 in it was not limited to another day's compa- 
 nionship with Ella Manvers. In Mr. De Villars 
 he had a witness of his interview with Captain 
 Granby, whose testimony Mr. Manvers coulil 
 not hesitate to accept. Could he ascertain, 
 therefore, before Mr. De Villars had left Wash- 
 ington, that misapprehension on this subject 
 was the cause of the evident change towards 
 him in the feelings of Mr. Manvers, all might
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 yet be well. How often, during that day's 
 drive, did these thoughts rush through his mind, 
 causing his heart to beat high and quickly, while 
 the unconscious Ella wondered what could make 
 Mr. Stanley, who formerly seemed to take such 
 pleasure in conversing with her, so silent and 
 abstracted. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. 
 
 April morning clouds, that pass, 
 With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
 But imitate, on field and furrow, 
 Life's checkered scenes of joy aad sorrow. 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 If great interest was evinced even in the re- 
 mote extremities of our country on the subject 
 of a war with England, it could not fail to 
 manifest itself yet more powerfully in its heart 
 in Washington where each hour gave new 
 food for excitement in some agitating Congres- 
 sional debate, or yet more agitating report of 
 degradation and wrong from our powerful and 
 noble enemy, whom our patience had rendered 
 arrogant. 
 
 The city had an unquiet aspect. Men's move- 
 ments were hurried. A more than usual num- 
 ber of strangers daily arrived at the hotels, and 
 were seen traversing the streets in the direction 
 of the various official bureaus, or lounging 
 around the capitol. Many of these were mili- 
 tary men, summoned there by government, or 
 led by ti.eir own desire to gain the earliest in- 
 telligence, or to evince their readiness to be 
 brought into active service. Among those 
 whom the last-named object had brought to 
 Washington was Colonel Stanley. He had in- 
 quired for Mr. Manvers on his arrival, and 
 found him an inhabitant of the same hotel with 
 himself. With these gentlemen life, though not 
 exempt from painful disappointments and chill- 
 ing experiences, had been passed in the per- 
 formance of active duties and the exercise of 
 healthful domestic affections. In these the 
 heart's youth finds its best preservative, and 
 they met, if not with all the enthusiasm, with 
 ail the sincerity and cordiab'ty of their early 
 friendship. There was but one subject on which 
 Colonel Stanley felt that there was a want of 
 sympathy with him on his friend's part his 
 son. 
 
 It was almost six years since Frederic had 
 left his home a stripling; it was but a few 
 months since Mr. Manvers had seen him a man, 
 and the father longed to hear him spoken of. 
 Frederic had written of Mr. Manvers's special 
 kindness to himself, as well as of his general 
 hospitality, in grateful terms, and Colonel Stan- 
 ley had hoped that the pleasure of the acquaint- 
 ance was mutual. It was, therefore, with a 
 
 father's pride, as well as a father's affection 
 glowing at his heart and lighting his eyes, that 
 he alluded to Frederic, and thanked Mr. Man- 
 vers for the kindness with which he had re- 
 ceived him. A shade, which perhaps the eye 
 of affection only could have perceived, passed 
 over the face and chilled the manner of Mr. 
 Manvers as he replied, " It surely is not a sub- 
 ject of thanks that the son of an old friend was 
 received with the hospitality to which even a 
 stranger would have been entitled !" 
 
 " But Frederic considered himself indebted to 
 you and your family for personal kindness as 
 well as general hospitality." 
 
 " He overrated our services," said Mr. Man- 
 vers, yet more coldly. 
 
 Painfully perplexed, Colonel Stanley was silent 
 for a few minutes. His next remark showed 
 that his thoughts were yet hovering around 
 Frederic. 
 
 " You saw Mr. Macon too ?" 
 
 " Yes, frequently," said Mr. Manvers. 
 
 " I feared," said Colonel Stanley, " that he 
 was too much of a spoiled child to succeed in a 
 profession in which it is so necessary to know 
 how to obey; but Frederjp says he is much 
 liked. How did it seem toyou ?" 
 
 " That he is both liked and esteemed, and 
 deservedly so," said Mr. Manvers, warmly. " I 
 never saw a more pleasing young man, or one 
 of whom I should more readily predict that he 
 would make a distinguished officer." 
 
 Colonel Stanley felt a sincere interest in Ar- 
 thur, and though there was at his heart, perhaps, 
 a little jealous feeling for Frederic, he answered 
 both truly and cordially, " I am glad to hear it. 
 His character in boyhood was so wildly im- 
 pulsive, so passionate, that I feared for him." 
 
 " You need not," said Mr. Manvers. " He 
 may commit some youthful indiscretions, may 
 give the rein a little too freely to his inclina- 
 tions, but he is, I am convinced, free from any 
 habitual vice, and so brave and honourable that 
 he cannot tail to win for himself high dis- 
 tinction." 
 
 " He seems, at least, to have a warm friend 
 in you." 
 
 " He deserves to have. The duel, from whose 
 effects he is even now suffering, was engaged 
 in>, if I am rightly informed, from a jealous re- 
 gard for my honour." 
 
 " The duel !" exclaimed Colonel Stanley ; 
 " why, has he been engaged in a duel :" 
 
 " Did you not know it ?" 
 
 " No ; I and my family have been absent 
 from home for some weeks, and the latest letter 
 I have seen from Frederic was dated very soon 
 after his week's visit to your house. I am truly 
 sorry to hear this of Arthur ; but I hope he is 
 not seriously wounded ?" 
 
 " Seriously, but not dangerously, I hope. But 
 you should hardly be sorry, I think, to hear 
 that he had spirit enough to resent an insult to 
 an absent friend."
 
 56 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 " A spirit at once firm and fearless might 
 prevent an insult to a friend being offered in his 
 presence, or compel its recantation, without 
 submitting: to the senseless and unchristian 
 practice of duelling." 
 
 " I do not see how," Mr. Manners began ; but 
 the approach of a mutual acquaintance inter- 
 rupted the conversation, and it was not renewed. 
 
 Mr. Manvers had, in expectation of his 
 daughter's arrival, taken a private parlour at 
 the hotel, and Colonel Stanley was sitting there 
 with him in the afternoon a day or two after 
 the occurrence of the conversation we have just 
 given, when the door was suddenly thrown open 
 by a waiter, and Ella Manvers, Mr. De Villars, 
 and Frederic Stanley entered. It may be sup- 
 posed that the entrance of the last into the par- 
 lour of Mr. Manvers was quite unintentional. 
 It was, in truth, a mistake of the waiter, who, 
 as Mr. De Yillars had inquired for Mr. Manvers, 
 supposed that the whole party w r ere in search 
 of him, and ushered them into his apartment, 
 while they believed that he was leading them 
 to one of the public reception rooms of the 
 hotel. 
 
 With one hound, one joyful cry, Ella Manvers 
 lay sobbing on her father's bosom. Her bonnet, 
 which the warmth of the weather had caused 
 her to untie, fell at her feet, and her sunny 
 ringlets streamed over her shoulders. 
 
 " My child ! my precious child !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Manvers, as again and again he pressed his 
 lips to iier forehead, laid his hand, as in bless- 
 ing, on her head, and bade her, for his sake, 
 hush her sobs and be comforted. And for his 
 sake she did hush them. 
 
 Frederic, though touched to the soul by this 
 scene, and still ignorant of Mr. Manvers's claim 
 to the room in which it occurred, felt that he 
 was not privileged to look on it, and would 
 therefore liave withdrawn ; but as he turned to 
 do so his eye met that of a gentleman who, 
 from the moment of his entrance, had watched 
 his every movement with a throbbing heart, and 
 a countenance full of strange excitement, half 
 gladness and half doubt. He sprang forward 
 with outstretched arms, exclaiming, " My 
 father !" and for an instant father and son 
 were locked in close, but mute embrace. Then 
 Colonel Stanley, releasing himself, rested his 
 hands on Frederic's shoulders, and, gazing in 
 his flushed and smiling face, and on his tall and 
 well-proportioned form, said, " Sixteen and 
 twenty-two ! how unlike !" 
 
 " Did you not know me, father ?" 
 
 " Not certainly till I met your eye. How 
 could I," he added, smiling, " suppose that I 
 saw my fair-faced boy, whose pale "brown curls 
 were the envy of all the ladies, in a whiskeradoed 
 grenadier, with hair of almost as dark a brown 
 as my own." 
 
 Colonel Stanley, perceiving that Ella's sobs 
 had ceased, and that Mr. Mauvers, though he 
 still kept his arm around her, was speaking to 
 
 Mr. De Villars, stepped up to them, and ex- 
 tending his hand to Ella, said, " Miss Manvers, 
 I will not wait an introduction to you ; I am 
 your father's old friend, Colonel Stanley, aud 
 feel that I have a sort of hereditary claim to 
 your regard." 
 
 Ella gave him her hand frankly, and looked 
 at him with a pleased smile. 
 
 Mr. Manvers had hitherto taken no notice of 
 Frederic. He now bowed to him courteously, 
 but coldly. Indignation at the injustice of Mr. 
 Manvers sorrow for the loss of his friendship 
 apprehension of the influence of his coldness 
 upon Ella's feelings sent the blood for one in- 
 stant back to Frederic's heart with a sickening 
 recoil as he met that bow ; the next, it was 
 rushing madly through his veins. Whether 
 Ella, who had glanced at him as her father pro- 
 nounced his name, read these emotions in his 
 face, or that the formality of her father's man- 
 ner to one to whom she owed so much gave 
 pain to herself, we know not ; but there was 
 regret as well as surprise in her countenance as, 
 turning to Mr. Manvers, she said, " If you value 
 your Ella, father, you must thank Mr. Stanley 
 for rescuing her from great peril, and restoring 
 her to you." 
 
 " Rescuing you ! from what, Ella :" asked 
 Mr. Manvers quickly, yet with a smiling face. 
 
 " From the pirates of Barrataria," was the 
 reply, in grave and earnest tones. 
 
 Involuntarily Mr. Manvers drew his child 
 again to his bosom, as if to shield her there 
 from the very memory of such danger, while he 
 exclaimed, Ella, Ella, what mean you? Can 
 this be so ?" 
 
 " I was in their hands," she repeated, shiver- 
 ing at the thought even in his arms, "but, thanks 
 to Mr. Stanley, I escaped uninjured." 
 
 Mr. De Villars, to whom Mr. Manvers had 
 looked with a bewildered expression as he thus 
 questioned his daughter, replied too, " Indeed, 
 Mr. Manvers, it can be and is so. Both your 
 daughter and mine were taken from our ship by 
 pirates and borne to Barrataria, and they were 
 followed by Mr. Stanley with only a boat's crew, 
 and by a happy and rare union of courage and 
 discretion, brought back in safety." 
 
 Mr. Manvers was a strong-hearted man, but 
 he was also a warm-hearted man, and this 
 daughter, his only child, now the only object on 
 which his affections could pour themselves out, 
 was so gentle, so blameless, so pure in aspect as 
 in heart, that he had ever believed that from 
 her very looks 
 
 " Dark vice would turn abusli'd away, 
 Blinded like serpents when they gaze 
 Upon ihe emerald's virgin blaze ;" 
 
 and now he heard that she had been in the 
 hands of men whose foul impurities brought the 
 blood rushing back to cheeks blanched by sick 
 horror at their murderous cruelties. He was 
 told this, and yet he held her safe, unharmed
 
 OR. WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 57 
 
 within his arms ! Is it wonderful that the 
 pride of manhood gave way before the emotion 
 awakened by such facts ? Making that ac- 
 knowledgment of God's providence which the 
 most thoughtless do when they have been made 
 to tremble for their dearest treasures, he raised 
 his eyes to heaven, exclaiming, " God, I thank 
 thee !" and sinking on a chair, rested his head 
 on Ella's shoulder and wept the strong man 
 wept. It was but a moment, however, that he 
 thus yielded ; before his friends could leave the 
 apartment, with a mighty effort he had regained 
 his self-command, and stood before them calm. 
 
 " Forgive this weakness," he said, as he rose 
 from his chair ; " you know not I knew not 
 till now, how I love this child." 
 
 Again he placed his hand upon her head and 
 raised his eyes to heaven ; then advancing to- 
 wards Frederic, he gave him his hand, saying, 
 " From you, Mr. Stanley, I have to ask forgive- 
 ness for a graver fault. I was cold, distant, 
 perhaps rude to you, when you had a claim to 
 my highest praise and warmest thanks. You 
 have pardoned me already," he added, with a 
 smile, as Frederic shook his hand with assur- 
 ances that " he owed him nothing ; that in 
 striving to rescue defenceless women from such 
 a terrible fate, he had but done his duty a 
 duty which Lafitte's unexpected courtesy had 
 rendered easy, and for which he had been amply 
 rewarded already in the safety of of " a 
 glance towards Ella, which her father under- 
 stood and answered with a smile " of the 
 ladies." 
 
 " We must not let you depreciate your own 
 heroism, Mr. Stanley," said Mr. De Villars. 
 " Lafitte's truly unexpected courtesy was, as he 
 himself admitted, the effect of the admirable 
 self-possession evinced by you." 
 
 " Pray say no more, Mr. De Villars," ex- 
 claimed Frederic ; " such praise will make me 
 forget myself." 
 
 " Besides," said Colonel Stanley, " I think 
 fatigue and agitation will make Miss Manvers 
 quite willing to dispense with our company for 
 a time." 
 
 He rose, but Mr. Manvers detained him, say- 
 ing that he would not permit his friends to 
 leave him so soon, unless they would promise 
 to return and sup with him at nine o'clock. 
 They readily promised, and the father and 
 daughter were left alone to the sweet inter- 
 change of the teriderest sympathies and most 
 deeply-rooted affections of our nature. Parent 
 and child ! other love may grow to a loftier 
 height and spread its branches wider, but none 
 strikes its root so deep in the heart as theirs. 
 
 At a little before the appointed hour, Colonel 
 Stanley and Mr. De Villars presented themselves 
 at the apartment of Mr. Manvers, and were 
 welcomed by that gentleman alone, fatigue 
 having sent Ella early to her pillow. To the 
 inquiries of Mr. Manvers, Colonel Stanley re- 
 plied that Frederic had been detained by some 
 
 of his brother officers, who had already learned 
 his arrival, but that he would follow them as 
 soon as he could disengage himself. 
 
 " Ella tells me," said Mr. Manvers, address- 
 ing himself to Mr. De Villars, " that young 
 Macon also came on in the ship with you. Is 
 his wound considered dangerous ?" 
 
 " Not immediately so ; but, from his con- 
 tinued feebleness, I fear greater internal injury 
 has been sustained than his surgeons supposed. 
 Poor young man ! he is much depressed, and, 
 since his arrival here, almost frantic at the 
 thought of war while he is unable to take a 
 part in the game. He has applied, through his 
 friend Stanley, for early orders ; but I do not 
 believe he will be fit for active service in 
 months." 
 
 " I grieve to hear it," said Mr. Manvers, 
 earnestly, " I grieve to hear it ; and the more, 
 because I have heard that his wound was re- 
 ceived in my cause." 
 
 " Received in your cause ! that is a mistake," 
 said Mr. De Villars. " The challenge was given 
 by his antagonist, Captain Granby, who had 
 been violently assaulted by young Macon for his 
 vilification of his friend Stanley, and gross mis- 
 representation of a fracas he had had with him. 
 That fracas, I know, was on your account, for I 
 was witness to a part of it, and had testimony 
 as worthy of credence as my own eyes and ears 
 for the remainder." 
 
 " You amaze me," said Mr. Manvers. " I 
 wish you would tell me what occurred, if if " 
 and he glanced at Colonel Stanley. 
 
 " Pray do not let me be any hindrance to the 
 gratification of your curiosity, Manvers," said 
 Colonel Stanley^ with a proud smile. " I am 
 as curious as you, and quite willing to hear any 
 thing which an honourable man like Mr. De 
 Villars can testify of my son." 
 
 " lie is worthy of alj your confidence, sir," 
 said Mr. De Villars, with a bow to the colonel ; 
 " and I have nothing to say of him which will 
 not gratify a father's affection and excite a 
 father's pride." 
 
 " Well, well," exclaimed Mr. Manvers, im- 
 patiently, " to your story to your story, before 
 the hero interrupts us." 
 
 " You may well say the ' hero ;' for such 
 calm intrepidity as he evinced I never before 
 witnessed ; such superiority to his own passions 
 as well as those cf others." Mr. De Villars 
 then, after a slight allusion to his own connexion 
 with the political opponents of Mr. Manvers, 
 proceeded to narrate, with much less of detail 
 than we used in giving them to rhe reader, the 
 circumstances that had occxirred during Fre- 
 deric's unwitting intrusion into the hotel ap- 
 propriated to that party on the day of the 
 election. 
 
 " And to this dastardly coward poor Macon 
 falls a victim !" ejaculated Mr. Manvers, as Mr. 
 De Villars concluded his recital with the nois.e-
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 less and well-executed retreat of the gallant 
 captain. 
 
 " Nay," said Mr. De Villars, " rather to his 
 own ungoverned passions. Had he asserted his 
 conviction of Granby's falsehood, and demanded 
 that he should retract the hnguage so injurious 
 to his friend, I have no doubt his demand would 
 have been complied with, and the disgraced man 
 have been driven from New Orleans ; but, un- 
 fortunately, Macon commenced by knocking him 
 down. The duel has whitewashed Granby, 
 though I shrewdly suspect he was forced into it 
 at last by Kirkpatrick, and he is now received 
 where he would not have dared before to show 
 his face. But here comes our hero," he added, 
 with a smile, as there was a quick footstep on 
 the stairs, and then a rap at the door. 
 
 He was right ; it was Frederic, who entered 
 with an apology for his delay, " Though I hoped 
 my father would prevent your waiting for me," 
 he added. 
 
 " We have neither of us, I suspect, been con- 
 scious that we were waiting," said Mr. Manvers, 
 " we have been so well entertained by Mr. De 
 Villars, who has shown me that I have still 
 farther cause than I knew of to-day to be 
 grateful to you ; still farther injustice to be 
 ashamed of. Can you forgive me for it all, 
 Frederic ?" 
 
 " Pray say no more of it, Mr. Manvers," said 
 Frederic. " You know how dearly I value your 
 good opinion ; if I am reinstated in that, I am 
 satisfied." 
 
 Frederic showed so sincere a desire to check 
 all farther allusion to himself or his actions, that 
 Mr. Manvers yielded, and said nothing more of 
 his gratitude ; though he evinced, in the un- 
 restrained cordiality of his manners, his high 
 esteem and regard for his young friend. Per- 
 haps there was no instance of this so much 
 Talucd by Frederic as his ready accordance with 
 a suggestion of ColoneF Stanley, that a visit he 
 had promised for his daughter as well as him- 
 self to H., should be made while Frederic was 
 at home ; " if," he added, " I can obtain leave 
 of absence myself." 
 
 " If your Congressional duties continue to ab- 
 sorb your time as they have done," said Colonel 
 Stanley, " I fear Miss Manvers will find her 
 abode in Washington somewhat dull. I wish I 
 could induce her to go with me to II., and re- 
 main with Mrs. Stanley and my daughter till 
 you were at liberty to join her there." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Mr. Manvers, 
 thoughtfully ; then, after a moment's silence, 
 added, " It would be a very agreeable arrange- 
 ment to me, and if I can prevail on Elia to leave 
 me so soon, I will accept it for her gratefully." 
 
 Frederic's heart bounded ; and often, ere he 
 slept that night, had he pictured to himself 
 Elia Manvers an inmate of his own home and 
 ihe cherished companion of his mother and 
 s ster. The next morning dawned on him bright 
 w ith enjoyment, yet brighter with hope. He 
 
 made an early appearance in the breakfast -room. 
 Mr. Manvers was not there. He soon entered, 
 however, hut without his daughter. On inquir- 
 ing for her, Frederic learned that she had takca 
 her breakfast in her own apartment, but was so 
 far recovered from her fatigue as to intend 
 walking out with her father. Looking at his 
 watch, Mr. Manvers added, "Her walk will be 
 short, for I must look in at the Post-office be- 
 fore going to the House. I expect a letter, 
 which may require to be answered to-day, and 
 I shall scarcely have time for that if I wait the 
 movements of our letter-carrier." 
 
 " Permit me to inquire for your letters," said 
 Frederic. " I will bring the'm to you, either 
 here or at the House, as soon as they arrive." 
 
 " Thank you thank you. You'will oblige 
 me by doing so, if it will not interfere with your 
 own business." 
 
 " No ; my only business in Washington is 
 with the Secretary of the Navy, and I am" told I 
 cannot see him for some hours to come." 
 
 It was but little after nine o'clock when the 
 arrival of the Southern mail put Frederic in 
 possession of a packet for Mr. Manvers. He 
 hastened back to the hotel, thinking to meet 
 him there on his return from his walk. 
 
 " Is Mr. Manvers in ?" he inquired of a 
 waiter. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he has just gone up to his parlour 
 with Miss Manvers.'' 
 
 Frederic turned quickly away, and hurried 
 up the stairs. Was it any design upon Ella's 
 free-will any determination to have at least & 
 sight of her, that made him, after hesitating a 
 moment, turn the latch of the door very gently, 
 and enter without warning ? If it was, he was 
 quickly punished. Mr. Manvers and Ella were 
 in the parlour, but the faces of both were 
 averted from the door at which he entered. 
 Ella was still bonneted, and Mr. Manvers held 
 his hat in his hand. He seemed already to have 
 bidden her adieu, and to be only lingering for 
 those last words of which the heart finds so 
 many when parting from those we love, even 
 for an hour. 
 
 " It disturbs me to leave you so long alone, 
 Ella. I do wish you would accept Stanley's 
 invitation," were the first words that fell on 
 Frederic's ear. 
 
 " I do not mind being alone, papa," said 
 Ella ; and Frederic thought her tones were 
 tremulous, as from agitation. " I do not mind 
 being alone, papa ; but, if it disturbs you, send 
 me any where any where but there." 
 
 " Ella," said Mr. Manvers, gravely, " for the 
 first time in your life you seem to me unreason- 
 able. Has young Stanley offended you ?" 
 
 What would not Frederic have given to hear 
 the answer to that question ? but honour for- 
 bade him. He had heard more already than he 
 should have done more than he would have 
 done, had he not been stupified by surprise and 
 chagrin. His hand was still on the unclosed
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 door he stepped out as noiselessly as he had 
 entered closed it carefully behind him, and, 
 rushing to his room, paced the floor for many 
 minutes with a whirling brain and wildly- 
 throbbing heart, " send me any where any 
 where but there," sounding ever in his ears. 
 At length his eye fell on the packet of letters 
 still in his hand. He had promised to deliver 
 them immediately, and, snatching his hat from 
 the table, he descended the stairs, left the 
 hotel, and proceeded towards the Capitol with 
 the hurried movements that indicate an excited 
 mind. He soon overtook the more deliberate 
 Mr. Manvers. 
 
 The very first glance at Frederic revealed to 
 this gentleman his agitation, and he inquired, 
 with interest, " What is the matter, Stanley ? 
 What has happened ?" 
 
 For many reasons Frederick had designed to 
 tell Mr. Manvers what he had overheard in his 
 unsuspected vfcjt 5 yet it was with painful agi- 
 tation that he made his communication. 
 
 " You say," observed Mr. Manvers, when he 
 ceased to speak, " that you heard me ask Ella if 
 you had offended her. Did you hear her 
 reply ?" 
 
 " I did not I could not, though I would have 
 given worlds to do so. My very anxiey re- 
 stored the consciousness of the impropriety of 
 my position, of which surprise and grief had 
 deprived me." 
 
 " I wish you had heard it. She protested, 
 even with vehemence, that you had done no- 
 thing to displease her ; that she was not dis- 
 pleased with you, but deeply grateful " 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Manvers, say nothing of your 
 daughter's gratitude she owes me none," said 
 Frederic, interrupting him. 
 
 For some minutes Mr. Manvers walked si- 
 lently on ; then, turning suddenly to Frederic, 
 he said, " Stanley, I cannot undertake to read a 
 woman's heart, though the woman be my 
 daughter ; but I will at least assure you that 
 you have my warm friendship, and that, satis- 
 fied with the tests of character you have lately 
 undergone, I should rejoice to call you my son, 
 without the probationary three years of which I 
 once spoke, were Ella's heart yours." 
 
 ' Thank you, my dear sir," said Frederic, as 
 he grasped the hand of Mr. Manvers with 
 strong emotion. " I ought to find pleasure in 
 such words ; but I can think at present only of 
 my disappointment." 
 
 " And of your duties, Frederic." 
 
 " Yes, yes my duties I would not be un- 
 mindful of them." 
 
 " That is right ; in their performance you 
 will find the only stable peace peace, indepen- 
 dent of the accidents of life as well as of the ca- 
 prices of others." 
 
 " Do not use the word caprices in relation to 
 your daughter," said Frederic, "for I am sure it 
 is unjust. I doubt not that even now she 
 is governed by pure and high principle." 
 
 " Well, well, we will not talk of her now, 
 but of your duties. You are to call on the 
 Secretary of the Navy this morning. He is an 
 old friend of mine, and I left on my table a 
 note for him, which may make him more ready 
 to grant any request you have to prefer. Get it, 
 and take it with you. You will see no one 
 in my room," added Mr. Manvers, as he ob- 
 served something of reluctance iu Frederic's 
 countenance; "Ella had retired to her own 
 apartment before I left." 
 
 Frederic thanked Mr. Manvers, and they se- 
 parated. 
 
 Though, under the influence of sudden and 
 painful surprise, Frederic Stanley had yielded to 
 his feelings and betrayed his agitation, his 
 dominion over himself had been only shaken, 
 not overthrown. His habitual self-control was 
 already resumed, and he proceeded towards the 
 hotel with a deliberate step and thoughtful 
 countenance, instead of the wildly-excited man- 
 ner with which he had left it. On the way he 
 met his father, with whom he arranged his 
 proceedings for the morning, promising, after 
 his interview with the secretary, to seek him at 
 the Capitol. 
 
 Long after his return to his room, Frederic 
 obeyed the Divine mandate, " Commune with 
 thy own heart and be still." Seating himself 
 near a table, he leaned his arms upon it, and 
 rested his head upon his clasped hands. Thus 
 shutting out the actual world, he left the mind 
 free to summon around it from the past, the 
 present, or the future from earth or heaven, 
 all which might influence his decision, or give 
 him strength for its fulfilment. The thought of 
 Ella as he had seen her at the bedside of the 
 dying negro as she had hovered a ministering 
 spirit around her beloved grandmother as she 
 had stood in the island home of Lafitte, with 
 all a woman's timidity, yet with a holy sere- 
 nity, which had some influence even on her 
 brutal captors, making them more chary of 
 their defiling touch to her than to her less dig- 
 nified companion. He thought of her in the 
 first moments of recovered freedom, when her 
 grateful offerings were presented to Heaven and 
 to him ; he remembered that from that time she 
 had been distant and reserved to him, and he 
 believed that he could read the heart which 
 had been unintelligible to her father. He 
 doubted not that' in his sympathy -with her joy 
 he had unveiled his heart, and that, seeing 
 there a love which she.could not return, she 
 had conscientiously striven to suppress its 
 growth. And should he blame her for this ? 
 No ; it was a new claim upon his admiration. 
 Should he cloud the brightness of her young 
 life by the pain which a sensitive nature must 
 experience in being even the unintentional 
 cause of sorrow to another ? No. He could 
 not cease to love her, for in her he loved the 
 good, and pure, and true ; and the love founded 
 on these is enduring, like themselves. But be
 
 60 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 would strive to cast out from his love all the 
 dwss of selfishness; he would strive to be 
 happy for her sake, and he would rejoice in 
 her happiness, howsoever or by whomsoever 
 obtained. 
 
 We have thus marked the course of Frede- 
 ric's thoughts ; but it must by no means be in- 
 ferred that he arrived as rapidly as we have 
 done at his desirable conclusion. At many 
 points of his progress towards it his mind ex- 
 perienced a painful recoil ; and it was with se- 
 vere contest, and with all the aid which he 
 could bring from his religious principles from 
 his faith in God as the kind as well as wise 
 Disposer of events, that he was enabled to rise 
 from his two hours' silent reverie again master 
 of himself. But he did so rise, and if his 
 countenance and movements were less joyous 
 and buoyant than they had been in the early 
 morning, they had acquired instead a serenity 
 scarce less pleasing and more admirable. 
 
 The chiming of the midday hour from a 
 neighbouring clock had recalled" Frederic to the 
 claims of present duties, and he prepared him- 
 self for his visit to the Secretary of the Navy, 
 endeavouring to dismiss from his mind, as he 
 did so, all thoughts not connected with his offi- 
 cial position. As he took from his portefeuille 
 the letters of Captain L. to the secretary which 
 had been given to Arthur and himself, he 
 remembered the note of which Mr. Manvers 
 had spoken, and went to seek it on his table. 
 
 Having been told that he would find no one 
 in the parlour, he, of course, made no appli- 
 cation for admittance. Again the latch yielded 
 to his touch, the door opened noiselessly, and 
 he stood once more within the room which had 
 been the scene of his morning's disappointment, 
 and before ELLA MAXVERS. 
 
 Mr. Manvers had been correct in saying 
 that Ella had gone to her own apartment be- 
 fore he left the hotel. He had been equally 
 correct in supposing that she did not intend to 
 leave it till his return ; but the desire to write a 
 letter, the difficulty of getting at her own yet 
 unpacked writing materials, the remembrance 
 of the inkstand which stood on the table in the 
 parlour, brought her there. As she approached 
 the table, her eye rested on a note which lay 
 upon it. Something in the address of this note 
 seemed to attract her attention, for, taking it 
 up, she seated herself, and, fixing her eyes upon 
 it, sank into a reverie almost as concen- 
 trated as that of Frederic almost as concen- 
 trated, and quite as 'sad, for tears gathered 
 in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks : 
 and thus Frederic found her. 
 
 But for those tears, he would have retreated 
 ere she had had time to see who was the in- 
 truder. As it was, he hesitated a moment ; she 
 looked up ; their eyes met, and, uttering his 
 name in an accent of surprise, Ella rose, blush- 
 ing and confused, and advanced towards the 
 Opposite door. As she rose, the note she had 
 
 held fell on the floor. Frederic picked it up, 
 and his own name on it met his glance. That 
 name, her attitude her tears did not these 
 prove him correct in his understanding of her 
 feelings ? did they not prove that she sorrowed 
 for his sorrow ? He would tell her all ; tell her 
 of his conflict and his victory ; tell her that he 
 had found in his regard for her a new impulse 
 to well-doing ; that, if that regard had caused 
 him some pain, it had opened to him new 
 sources of moral strength and of pure and 
 serene enjoyment. We talk of the lightning's 
 flash: it scarce expresses the rapidity of thought 
 when stimulated by intense emotion. Ere Fre- 
 deric had raised the note from the floor, his 
 resolution had been taken, and Ella's ejacula- 
 tion of his name was answered with, "Miss 
 Manvers, leave me not thus, I entreat you. 
 Suffer me to say a few words to you before' we 
 part for many years, perhaps for ever." Ella 
 paused irresolutely, and he proceeded rapidly. 
 
 " I heard accidentally this morning your re- 
 fusal to visit my home. I now find you in tears. 
 I believe I understand both the refusal and the 
 sorrow." 
 
 Had Frederic been less absorbed by his owu 
 emotion, he might have wondered at that which 
 was evinced in the face before him. The tears 
 were dried on the crimson cheeks ; the head, 
 which had been bent down with painful con- 
 fusion from the moment of his entrance, was 
 elevated ; and there was in the dilated eyes an 
 expression of pride far removed from their usual 
 softness. But Frederic saw not all this, and he 
 continued: 
 
 " Your father's commands have till now pre- 
 vented any intentional expression of my feel- 
 ings, but I can well believe that they haye not 
 been concealed from you. You have perceived 
 my admiration my love ; and, with a freedom 
 from all coquetry which elevates you still more 
 in my esteem, you have endeavoured to repress 
 by your reserve feelings to which you could not 
 respond. You would not run the risk of in- 
 creasing those feelings by an intimacy which an 
 abode of weeks under the same roof would have 
 rendered inevitable ; and now the tears which 
 were on your cheeks when I surprised you are 
 witnesses to your compassionate sympathy with 
 the disappointment the sorrow you have in- 
 nocently caused. Is it not so ?" 
 
 Frederic paused, though scarce expecting any 
 other answer than the assent which silence 
 gives ; but, bending still lower and lower the 
 face from which its unusual aspect of pride had 
 long since passed away, Ella said, almost in a 
 whisper, " Oh no, Mr. 'Stanley ! I I did not 
 know " she stopped abruptly, as if unable to 
 proceed. 
 
 " No !" exclaimed Frederic, " no I why, then, 
 this sorrow ? why, then, your refusal thia morn- 
 ing ?" 
 
 Pretty egotistical this, Mr. Stanley, that you 
 should suppose they must have reference, in
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 some way, to you. But Ella did not seem to 
 perceive his egotism, or, at least, to be angry at 
 it ; for she answered as gently as before, " I I 
 did not know that that you wished me to go 
 to H." 
 
 " Did not know that I wished you to go ! 
 Was my heart, indeed, so well disguised ? Now, 
 then, Ella, that you do know how very much I 
 wish it that you know all my wishes, will you 
 go ?" 
 
 Whether Ella consented immediately, or whe- 
 ther she required farther solicitation, we know 
 not ;' but she did consent not only to go to H., 
 but some day or other, with her father's per- 
 mission, to change the name of Ella Manvers 
 for Ella Stanley, which we do not ourselves 
 think half so euphonious. 
 
 It was about one o'clock that Mr. Manvers, 
 availing himself of an unexpected opportunity 
 for escape from the House of Representatives, 
 determined to spend the hour of 'freedom with 
 Ella, of whose loneliness he had thought with 
 painful regret more than once during the morn- 
 ing. On his way he met Colonel Stanley look- 
 ing out for his son, and wondering at his delay. 
 In order that he might have the more time for 
 Ella, Mr. Manvers called a carriage. " Step in, 
 colonel," said he, when it drew up in obedience 
 to his signal. " We will drive round by the 
 Navy Department, and pick up your laggard." 
 
 Colonel Stanley, after a moment's hesitation, 
 complied, and they drove round by the Navy De- 
 partment, but they did not pick up Frederic. 
 They found him in Mr. Manvers's parlour. He 
 \vas alone. 
 
 "Why, Frederic," said Colonel Stanley, as he 
 perceived him, " I thought you promised to 
 meet me at the Capitol when you had seen the 
 secretary ?" 
 
 " You must excuse me, father," said Frederic ; 
 " I have been so much engaged that I really 
 forgot it." 
 
 " Well, Frederic, what does he say ?" asked 
 Mr. Manvers, he, of course, standing for his 
 friend the secretary. 
 
 " She says she will go to H.," replied Fre- 
 deric. 
 
 " Who ! the secretary will go to H. ?" 
 ' " Oh, no," stammered Frederic, colouring, 
 and becoming more and more inextricably con- 
 fused ; " I have not seen the secretary I meant 
 Ella." 
 
 " Ella !" exclaimed Mr. Manvers ; " and, pray, 
 have you found out her reasons for refusing to 
 go this morning ?" 
 
 l She did not know that 1 wished her to go." 
 
 Colonel Stanley and Mr. Manvers looked at 
 each other, and their irrepressible laughter 
 aroused the half-dreaming Frederic. He joined 
 their laugh, though against himself, and then, 
 with graceful and manly frankness and feeling, 
 claimed the congratulations of Ella's father and 
 his own. From both he received them, made 
 with earnest affection. 
 
 When alone with Colonel Stanley, Frederic 
 revealed to him all the incidents of the morn- 
 ing, and not only its incidents, but its feelings 
 his first abandonment to the bitterness of his 
 disappointment his long, resolute, and prayer- 
 ful struggle with and conquest over himself, 
 and the serenity which he had reaped from that 
 conquest, even while yet he believed that the 
 affection he most desired to obtain could never 
 be his." 
 
 " Frederic," said Colonel Stanley, when he 
 had heard it all, " I am rejoiced that you have 
 been subjected to this trial. You now know 
 that there is no emotion of our nature over 
 which a spirit at once prayerful and resolute 
 may not obtain the mastery." 
 
 For this lesson it has been that we have 
 dwelt somewhat longer on this portion of Fre- 
 deric Stanley's history than may to some persons 
 have seemed desirable. We have exhibited the 
 strength of his affection the brightness of his 
 hopes the depth of his despondency, that each 
 who reads may feel that, whatever be his trials, 
 for him, too, there is, through God's help, vic- 
 tory and peace. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE WANDERERS HAVE RETURNED. 
 
 And your experience makes you sad. I had 
 rather have a fool to make me merry than experi- 
 ence to make me sad ; and to travel for it, too. 
 
 Mr. Manvers accompanied Frederic to the 
 office of the Secretary of the Navy, but his 
 friendly interest was not needed there. The 
 high commendations of Captain L. secured the 
 approbation of the secretary for his late mid- 
 shipmen, and he readily promised to do all that 
 he could, consistently with the rights of others, 
 for the promotion of their interests and the 
 gratification of their wishes. 
 
 To this promise, in Arthur's case, was ap- 
 pended a condition that he would pledge him- 
 self, should his health continue feeble, not to 
 accept an appointment to the performance of 
 whose duties he felt himself unequal. The 
 secretary added, that the prospect of a war 
 rendered it more than ever important that, in 
 making appointments, those should be prefer- 
 red who could best serve the country. 
 
 The business which had brought him to 
 Washington thus completed, Frederic Stanley 
 did not suffer his own happiness to make him 
 unmindful of his friend. The day after his in- 
 terview with the secretary he was on his way to 
 Baltimore, leaving his father still in Washing- 
 ton, where he would probably be detained a 
 week longer, when Ella bad promised to ac- 
 company him to H. Arthur was impatient to 
 be at home, and no delay was made in Baltimore 
 after Frederic's arrival there.
 
 62 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 Their journey homeward was slow, for the 
 stage-coach or packet-sloop was then the best 
 mode of public travelling in the interior of the 
 United States. But, though slow, it was 
 pleasant. They recognised the scenes through 
 which they had passed, six years before, wich 
 minds ail speculation hearts all hope. In the 
 prominent features of those scenes the frequent 
 village or town the rivers gliding between 
 steep and rocky banks the hills covered with 
 ripening grain they recognised those to which 
 their childhood had been accustomed, and 
 which commanded their observation the more 
 from their contrast with the low, marshy 
 shores, and majestic, but wild and interminable 
 forests of the South. How many half-extin- 
 guished memories were awakened by these 
 scenes ! The spell of home was upon them. It 
 aroused many tender and joyful thoughts in the 
 minds of both; but in the light of Arthur's 
 spirit there was a shadow. He was going back, 
 a feeble sufferer, to rest again upon the mother 
 who should now have found support in him. 
 But this was not all. He felt that to his own 
 rashness he owed his present suffering ; but, 
 again, this was not all. 
 
 There are moments in which the questions, 
 For what have we lived ? What have been the 
 results ? "What are the aims of our being ? force 
 themselves upon us, and compel us to respond. 
 This, to Arthur Macon, was such a moment, 
 and the response which his heart uttered oc- 
 casioned him both humiliation and pain. He 
 had lived for himself ; the aims of his being had 
 been uncertain and varying as his impulses : its 
 results a few hours of pleasure, whose memory 
 was, at best, a blank sometimes, alas ! a blot. 
 He felt that in all which makes the true nobility 
 of man the lofty purpose the firm resolve 
 the steadfast pursuit he was wanting. \Vhy 
 was it so ? he asked himself. \Vhy was it that 
 his younger and not more gifted companion was 
 yet more a MAN than he ? These thoughts 
 were expressed to Frederic one evening, when 
 they had both been sitting long in thoughtful 
 silence on the deck of a vessel in which they 
 were approaching Philadelphia. " \\l\y are 
 these things so, Frederic ?'" asked Arthur. " I 
 do not think it can be a fault of m> nature ; for 
 in roy boyhood I seldom found an equal either 
 in mental or physical exercises seldom an 
 equal never a conqueror. You know," he 
 continued, more lightly, " that I whipped you 
 in our first and only battle." 
 
 " Yes, Arthur," replied Frederic ; " and that 
 defeat was worth more to me than twenty vic- 
 tories would have been. I was led by that de- 
 feat to ask myself what constituted true manli- 
 ness what elevated the man into the hero 
 and, guided by my father, I arrived at the con- 
 clusion that it was not conquest over others, 
 which must often be decided by circumstances 
 having no connexion with personal merit, but 
 self-conquest. He who rules others, said my 
 
 father, one day, to me, may be admired he 
 only is admirable who rules himself." 
 
 Arthur was silent for a few minutes ; then, 
 turning with a smile to Frederic, said, " But 
 suppose one has acquired this rule over himself 
 has got the helm in his own hands how 
 shall he know what course to steer ?" 
 
 " By studying the chart ?" 
 
 " The chart ! where s'&all that be found ?" 
 
 " In the Bible the chart which God himself 
 has laid down for man." 
 
 Letters from our travellers announcing their 
 approach had been received in H. several days 
 before they arrived. Mrs. Macon had prepared 
 every thing which tenderness could suggest for 
 the comfort of her invalid, and awaited his 
 coming with a heart in which joy and sorrow 
 held divided empire. She had calculated the 
 days which would be occupied on his journey, 
 and on the last of these she watched the flight 
 of hours, minutes, seconds ; listened to the roll 
 of every passing carriage, and walked from win- 
 dow to window of her house overlooking the 
 street by which he would approach. The after- 
 noon was fading into mellow evening, when she 
 saw a carriage draw near. Her heart throbbed 
 painfully ; the carriage stopped ; and over- 
 powered by agitation, she leaned for support 
 against the window through which she was 
 gazing. A young man opened the door and 
 sprang out. Could that be Arthur ? No ; the 
 mother could not see, for a mist was before her 
 eyes, but she felt it was not. But the steps are 
 lowered ; a feeble and emaciated form slowly 
 and painfully approaches the door of the coach, 
 and, with the assistance of his companion and 
 the coachman, descends the steps. ' Leaning 
 heavily upon the first, he enters the house 
 turns into the room from which she has been 
 unable to move totters to a sofa, and as, half 
 fainting, he sinks upon it, whispers, " My 
 mother !" Her arms are around him ; his head 
 sinks upon the bosom which was his earliest 
 pillow ; the hand whose soft touch he felt in his 
 fever dreams lovingly puts back the hair from 
 his sunken temples, and, as Frederic consider- 
 ately withdraws, he hears the deep-heaved sob 
 of manhood mingling with the soothing accents, 
 ' My beloved Arthur my own, my only son !" 
 
 Man of sin and of sorrow of broken hopes 
 and bitter memories if earth still holds for 
 thee a mother's love, despond not ; rather re- 
 joice and be thankful. 
 
 In another house in H. there have been pre- 
 parations for a returning wanderer, and joy- 
 ful all joyful anticipations. In this house a 
 mother and daughter are seated together. They 
 too have drawn near a window which overlooks 
 the street, and though they still strive to employ 
 themselves, the mother with her needle, the 
 daughter with a book, from which she reads 
 aloud, their eyes are often on the window. At 
 length the young girl lays her book aside.
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 * Mother, I can read uo longer. If he is coining 
 to-day, he must be here soon very soon." The 
 mother answers not ; her eyes are rivetted on an 
 approaching carriage. It stops. The girl springs 
 to the door, opens it, and is clasped in a bro- 
 ther's eager embrace. " My brother !" " Mary, 
 ~xij dear sister !" are their only words ; and, 
 while she leans against the door weeping for 
 joy, he passes quickly on, and enters the apart- 
 ment at the window of which he had seen his 
 mother. In an instant he is kneeling at her 
 side. "Mother! bless me, mother; for, with 
 God's help, I have kept my pledge." 
 
 The mother glides from her seat upon her 
 knees, and clasped in those beloved arms, and 
 resting her head upon that manly bosom, ex- 
 claims, " Father, I thank thee ! bless thou my 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE HERO MANIFESTED HIS REWARD. 
 
 A garland for the hero's crest, 
 
 And twined by her be loves the best. SCOTT. 
 
 And now, having guided back to the sanctu- 
 ary of home those whose course from childhood 
 to manhood we have traced in the preceding 
 pages, we might leave them there, did we not 
 flatter ourselves that they have excited sufficient 
 interest in the mind of the reader to make him 
 desirous of learning the effects on their fortunes 
 of the war then so near. For information on 
 this subject, a rapid sketch will suffice. 
 
 The Secretary of the Navy remembered and 
 fulfilled his promises. In less than a month 
 Arthur and Frederic received the orders they 
 had solicited. No time was lost in obeying 
 them. Arthur had recruited so rapidly under 
 the healing influence of home, that none but 
 his mother thought him very icrony in accept- 
 ing his appointment. The friends went together 
 to a new ship and a new commander. They 
 were fortunate their ship was one among the 
 first to meet the enemy, and prove that, gal- 
 lant and skilful as Britons are, they are yet not 
 invincible. la this action both Arthur Macon 
 and Frederic Stanley so distinguished them- 
 selves that their names were mentioned with 
 honour in the official report made by their 
 commander, am! they received, in consequence, 
 their commissions as lieutenants. But even 
 here, in this bright hour of his life, when he 
 seemed within reach of the honour and com- 
 mand which his soul coveted, the evil spirit to 
 whose dominion Arthur had submitted un- 
 resistingly from his boyhood, asserted his su- 
 premacy and blasted his hopes. 
 
 We have said that his commander was a 
 stranger. He was a just, but stern man, and 
 less disposed than Arthur's old friends, Captain 
 B. and Captain L., to overlook or to excuse 
 
 the rash acts into which his violent and uncon- 
 trolled temper too frequently led him. More 
 than once he had given to these acts dignified 
 and severe, though merited rebuke ; and 
 when delivering to Arthur his commission, he 
 mingled with his praise of the courage that had 
 gained it, reproval of the insubordinate spirit 
 so often manifested, and which, if not quelled 
 now, would render him wholly unfit for the 
 command delegated to him. At this period 
 
 the ship was lying at the navy-yard at , 
 
 hastily refitting for another cruise. The in- 
 censed Arthur, blind to all but the gratification 
 of his resentment, requested, perhaps we should 
 rather say demanded, to be detached from her. 
 He was gratified, but a letter from his com- 
 mander to the secretary gave such an account 
 of the transaction as greatly lessened the favour 
 his gallantry had procured him at the department. 
 For many months his solicitation for sea service 
 was vain. At length, the application of Captain 
 B. procured for him orders to his ship; but he 
 was never again so fortunate as to encounter 
 the enemy, while the ship he had so hastily 
 left was twice afterwards engaged, capturing 
 her antagonist once, and once executing a re- 
 treat from a force more than treble her su- 
 perior, with such masterly skill and coolness as 
 rendered it not less admirable than a victory. 
 On both these occasions Frederic Stanley re- 
 ceived from his rigidly just commander the 
 highest plaudits for the manifestation of a cool- 
 ness and self-possession rarely found in so 
 young a man, however brave. He was again 
 promoted, and as a proof of the high esti- 
 mation in which his qualities and his services 
 were held by government, the intermediate 
 grade was overpassed, and he left his ship 
 to take a command himself, with the highest 
 rank attainable in our naval service that of 
 post-captain. 
 
 It is the 21st of May, 1815. Peace has been 
 declared for months troops have been dis- 
 banded vessels laid by, and soldiers and sailors 
 who have escaped the sword and the cannon 
 are daily returning to their homes, to reap the 
 reward of their gallantry in the applause of 
 their country and the proud affection of those 
 who make home dear. A busy day is this 21st 
 of May in II., for one of the noblest of her sons, 
 whose career has been as fortunate as meritori- 
 oxis, is to-day to receive in public a testimonial 
 of the approbation of his native state, bestowed 
 on him by the unanimous vote of her Legislative 
 Assembly. 
 
 The hour has almost arrived, and in a spa- 
 cious room many hundreds of persons are col- 
 lected to witness the interesting ceremony. Old 
 age, with bending form and silver hairs man- 
 hood, with thoughtful brow and youth, with 
 eye of fire, are there. Woman, too. sheds the 
 light of her smile upon the scene. Among 
 these hundreds there is but one whose face is 
 shadowed with gloom but one who does not
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST ; 
 
 seem to feel himself honoured in the honour of 
 his townsman. This one has taken his stand 
 in the remote corner of the room. His dark 
 hair hangs dishevelled over a frowning brow, 
 his eyes are cast down, and his countenance 
 that of one busied rather with the inner than 
 the outer world. 
 
 Some one in his neighbourhood whispers, 
 ' That is Lieutenant Macon." Yet he wears a 
 plain citizen's dress, for Arthur feels to-day as 
 if the uniform and single epaulet of a lieutenant 
 were a disgrace. 
 
 But ladies are entering, who attract even 
 more attention than the beautiful are wont to 
 do in such a scene. One of these is a matron, 
 in whom a noble countenance and graceful 
 carriage prolong the charm of youth. She leads 
 the way, and is followed by her younger com- 
 panions, linked arm in arm, like sister graces. 
 Would you know who they are ? The elder 
 lady is Mrs. Stanley. Except that her cheek is 
 paler than usual, there is little sign about her 
 of peculiar emotion. She neither seeks nor 
 avoids the eyes of others. Should she yield to 
 her feelings, we think she would look upward 
 to the Heaven which has made her so joyful a 
 mother. One of the younger ladies she who 
 walks with her head erect, and looks around 
 her with a proud eye, is Mary Stanley. She 
 inherits much of her mother's beauty, yet she 
 is scarcely so lovely as her companion, whose 
 soft hazel eye was lowered beneath the first 
 glance which she encountered on entering, 
 whose very temples wear a crimson flush where 
 her sunny ringlets permit them to be seen, and 
 whose whole countenance beams with the sun- 
 shine of a pure and happy heart. This lady is 
 Ella Stanley a name for which, but a few 
 weeks since, she relinquished that of Ella Man- 
 ners. 
 
 But the " most potent, grave, and reverend 
 signiors" who have been commissioned to ex- 
 press the thanks of the state, and to convey her 
 gift to her honoured son, have entered and 
 taken their places and hark! the appointed 
 hour strikes ; and, as the door again opens, a 
 band of music commence the inspiriting strain, 
 " He comes the conquering hero comes." 
 
 Animated by one spirit, the multitude rise as 
 one man, and turn their eager glances on a 
 group advancing slowly towards the elevated 
 platform, on which sat the representatives of 
 the state. Foremost of that group comes one 
 in whom the vigour of manhood has not yet 
 displaced the elastic grace of youth. Truth and 
 honour sit enthroned on his open brow. His 
 eye is bright, and his face glows with mingled 
 modesty and pleasure. He wears the uniform 
 of a post-captain in the navy of the United 
 States. Near him, in the costume of a general 
 in the American army, walks one who might be 
 taken for his elder self. Among the others who 
 accompany him we recognise our old acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Manvers. He soon -withdraws from 
 
 them. The rest advance. They ascend the 
 platform. Captain Stanley is presented by the 
 mayor of H. to the delegates, who have risen 
 to receive him. One of their number steps for- 
 ward, and, raising a costly and splendid sword 
 from the table before him, addresses him with 
 feeling and eloquence, presenting him the sword 
 as a testimony of the gratitude of the state to 
 one who " had done honour to her character 
 and protected her institutions." And now Cap- 
 tain Stanley replies, and so deep is the hush, 
 that, though he speaks not loudly, not a syllable 
 is lost in the remotest part of the building. 
 Even where Arthur Macon stands he is heard, 
 for see his cheek suddenly flushes his eye 
 kindles. What moves him thus ? Listen ! " On 
 the brightness of this day, sir, there is but one 
 shadow the regret that all who were in arms 
 for their country had not equal opportunities 
 for manifesting the valour and the patriotism 
 which animated them especially that one, a 
 fellow-townsman and long companion in arms, 
 less fortunate, but not less deserving, stands 
 not by my side." There is a softened feeling at 
 Arthur Macon's heart, such as the disappointed 
 and imbittered man has not known for long. 
 But the flush fades from his cheek as he shakes 
 his head and mutters, " Ay, less fortunate, be- 
 cause less deserving." 
 
 The imposing ceremony is over. Frederic 
 Stanley gives one rapid glance to his mother 
 and sister, suffers his eye to rest a moment 
 longer on his happy wife, and turns to look for 
 Arthur Macon. He was already leaving the 
 building. Frederic advanced tow'ards him, all, 
 as his object was perceived, making way for 
 him. He overtook him, and passing his arm 
 through his with an affectionate greeting, walked 
 on with him for some distance, conversiiig in 
 low tones. At length, as they were about to 
 part, Frederic said, "I shall see you at this 
 dinner to-day." 
 
 With a sudden knitting of the brow, Arthur 
 answered quickly, " No, no, Frederic, I cannot 
 be there." 
 
 Frederic looked grieved. 
 
 " Do not think, Frederic, that I am jealous 
 of your success. Had it been as you Jdndly 
 said to-day had I been only less fortunate, not 
 less deserving than yourself,' I should have en- 
 joyed your welcome your honour as my own ; 
 but it is the consciousness of demerit that de- 
 presses me it is the knowledge, Frederic, that 
 I lost the opportunity of conquering others by 
 failing to conquer myself." 
 
 " Then, Arthur, dear Arthur, begin to strive 
 for that nobler victory to-day. Conquer to-day, 
 for my sake, the feelings which would forbid 
 me to see the friend of my boyhood, the 
 brother of my heart, by my side." 
 
 Arthur's eyes glistened as he looked into his 
 friend's earnest, anxious face, and suddenly 
 grasping Frederic's hand, he exclaimed, " True
 
 OR, WHICH MAKES THE HERO ? 
 
 63 
 
 friend, you deserve the effort, and I will make 
 it. I will be there." 
 
 Arthur Macon was there, and with this good 
 omen for the future we take our leave of him. 
 His past life has proved that nature and fortune 
 shower their gifts in vain on him who is not 
 lord of himself. Should he henceforth strive 
 for this dominion, though fearful must be his 
 struggle with impulses so long untamed, for 
 him, too, we predict, " with God's help, victory 
 and peace." 
 
 We would not have our readers take their 
 last look of Frederic Stanley amid the glare of 
 public applause and public display, for not in 
 these did he find his best reward. This was 
 
 enjoyed in the calm pleasures and pure affection! 
 of his horn 3 in the reverent love of her who 
 had " committed her gentle spirit to his to be 
 directed" in the holy tenderness and proud 
 reliance of father, mother, sister, friend. These 
 affections were peaceful, because they were 
 trusting their brightness veiled by no cloud 
 of doubt their repose broken by no wave of 
 
 Reader, wouldst thou build for thyself such 
 a home ? Remember that its foundations must 
 be laid on just and true principles, and its key- 
 stone, without which all would be incomplete 
 and insecure, must be SELF-MASTERY. 
 
 1..VD OF CO'CtCEST A:;D SELF-CON ftUBST. 
 
 Printed by BRUCE aod WYLD, 84, Farringdou-street.
 
 000024697 5