UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Class 
 
 V.I 
 
BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 , QiesteTL.0.- 1 - 
 
Blfcorafco Bfcttion 
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND 
 
 8% ^nicherbochtr |lress 
 

 
A 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 

 
 Stf 
 
 tf 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 OR 
 
 EUROPE SEEN WITH KNAPSACK 
 AND STAFF 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 AUTHOR S REVISED EDITION 
 
 OF THF 
 
 UNIVERSE 
 
 OF 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress; ir, t; > year 1855, by 
 G. P. PUTNAM, 
 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 MARIE TAYLOR 
 
 1882 
 
FRANK TAYLOR, 
 
 THIS STORY OF THE PILGRIMAGE 
 
 VHOSE TOILS AND ENJOYMENTS WE SHARED TOGETHER 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 
 BT 
 
 HIS RELATIVE AND FRIEND. 
 
 ^05914 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THIS work was jirst published in December, 1846, 
 six months after my return from Europe. Some litera 
 ry iriends, who had been interested in the letters which 
 i sent home during my pedestrian journeys, encouraged 
 me in the design of collecting them, completing the 
 story from my journals, and producing a book, which, 
 while treating of beaten tracks, might possess some 
 interest from the circumstances under which they were 
 trodden. Mr. N. P. Willis, whose kindness to me was 
 as prompt as his friendship has been generous and con 
 stant, wrote an introduction, giving the buoyancy of 
 his name to a craft which might not otherwise have 
 ridden so fortunately the capricious sea of literary suc 
 cess. Several editions were sold during the following 
 year, and in August, 1848, I added to the eighth edition 
 a chapter containing some practical information for 
 pedestrians, in answer to numerous letters from young 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 men who desired to follow my example. To the same 
 edition I attached the following prefatory remarks : 
 
 " In presenting to the public a new and improved edition of this re 
 cord of his wanderings, the author could not justly suffer the opportu 
 nity to go by, without expressing his grateful acknowledgment of the 
 kindness with which his work has been received. Although his aim 
 was simply to give a narrative of personal experience, which it was hoped 
 might be of some value to many a toiling student in the college of the 
 world, he was aware that it would be considered a test of his literary 
 ability, and that whatever hearing he might have hoped to obtain for the 
 works of maturer years, would be dependent on its success. With a 
 total ignorance of the arts of book-making, and uncertain whether a 
 new voice from the track where thousands had been before him 
 would find a patient auditory, it was therefore not without considera 
 ble anxiety that he gave his volume to the world. But he was not 
 prepared to hope for such an immediate and generous favor as it re 
 ceived. By the press of our own country, as well as the more rigid 
 reviewers of Great Britain, whatever merits it possesses were cordially 
 appreciated, while its faults were but lightly touched perhaps from a 
 sympathy with the youth of the author, and the plan of his enthusias 
 tic pilgrimage. But what was most grateful of all, he learned that 
 many another young and hopeful spirit had been profited and encou 
 raged by his own experience, and was ready to try the world with as 
 little dependence on worldly means. The letters he received from 
 young men whose hopes and circumstances were what his own had 
 been, gave welcome evidence that he had not written in vain. He will 
 not say that this knowledge repaid him for whatever toil and hardship 
 he had undergone ; whoever is subjected to the same experience will 
 learn that it brings its own reward ; but it will nerve him henceforth 
 to bear any lot, however severe, through which he may be enabled 
 to say a word that shall cheer or strengthen another. 
 
 " He i now fully aware how much he has omitted from these pages, 
 which would have been curious and perhaps instructive to the reader; 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 how many blunders of inexperience ; how much thoughtless confi- 
 dence in the world ; how many painful struggles with pride, and a too 
 selfish independence ; how many strange extremities of want and amus 
 ing expedients of relief. His reluctance to relate much that was entire 
 ly personal and could not have been told without some little sacrifice 
 of feeling, has since been regretted, from the belief that it might have 
 been useful to others. Perhaps, however, it will be better that each one 
 should learn these lessons for himself. There is a sensation of novelty, 
 which, even in the most embarrassing situations, produces a desperate 
 kind of enjoyment, and in addition to this, the sufferer s sympathies for 
 humanity are very much deepened and enlarged by an acquaintance 
 with its trials. 
 
 " In preparing the present edition of his book, the author at first 
 contemplated a complete revision. The fact that seven editions had 
 been sold in a year and a half from the publication, seemed to require 
 that he should make such improvements as his riper judgmeir, suggested, 
 and which should render it more worthy of so extensive a circulation. 
 But further reflection convinced him that it would be best to make 
 little change. It was written during his wanderings partly by the 
 wayside, when resting at mid-day, and partly on the rough tables of 
 peasant inns, in the stillness of deserted ruins, or amid the sublime soli 
 tude of the mountain-top. It thus reflects faithfully the impress of his 
 own mind, in every part of the journey, and he would prefer that it 
 should remain a boyish work, however lacking in finish of composition, 
 rather than risk taking away whatever spirit it may have caught from 
 nature. Some particulars, which have been desired by persons about 
 to undertake a similar journey, and which may be generally interesting, 
 have been given in a new chapter at the close." 
 
 At the time the foregoing preface was written, I aid 
 not venture to anticipate that the work- would become 
 permanently popular. It had fulfilled the object of 
 its publication, and I should have been satisfied had 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 it then gradually passed away from the remembrance 
 of the reading public. Since that time, however, 
 twelve more editions have been sold, and there appears 
 to be an increase rather than an abatement of the 
 demand for it. When, therefore, Mr. Putnam, in order 
 to produce a collected and uniform edition of my tra 
 vels, proposed to destroy the original stereotype plates 
 and reprint the work, to correspond with the later 
 volumes, I could not suffer the opportunity to pass with 
 out giving it that careful revision which was rendered 
 necessary by its crudities of style and carelessness of 
 arrangement. 
 
 I have endeavored to make no change which should 
 impair that spirit of boyish confidence and enthusiasm, 
 to which alone I must attribute the success of the work. 
 I have not meddled with the language further than to 
 correct occasional violations of taste. My task has 
 been, to omit much that was irrelevant to the story 
 and to my object in telling it, replacing these omissions 
 with personal particulars, which had been withheld 
 through an unnecessary pride. I have even in some 
 instances suffered opinions to stand, which I have long 
 since outgrown, because they illustrate my ignorance 
 and immaturity at the time. My object is to make 
 this account of my two years experiment more clear 
 and intelligible to the reader to retain everything that 
 is novel or characteristic, while relieving it of an over 
 plus of mere description, which possesses no general 
 interest. I have also added an introductory chapter. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 containing all the particulars mentioned by Mr. Willis 
 in his original introduction, with others which seemed 
 necessary to make the story complete. In with 
 drawing the book from the shelter of that gentle 
 man s name, I can do no less than say that the 
 kindness of heart which made him one of my first 
 literary friends, leaves me still his debtor; but those 
 who know him truly, know that indebtedness to him is 
 a burden lightly and gladly borne. 
 
 In conclusion, I must disclaim any particular talent 
 for economy, which has sometimes been accorded to 
 me, on account of having seen so much on such short 
 allowance. Had I possessed more I should have spent 
 more, and the only value of my experience is, to prove 
 to young men of scanty means that they need not ne 
 cessarily be debarred from enjoying the pleasures and 
 the advantages of travel. The story of this experience 
 has been, and may still be, useful to others ; and I 
 claim for it no further merit than that of truth, without 
 reserve or exaggeration. 
 
 B. T 
 
 NEW YORK, October, 1855. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Introductory , 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Second Cabin Our Fellow Passengers Sea Life The Banks of Newfoundland- 
 Black Fish Unfavorable Weather The Iowa Indians Their Songs and Dances- 
 Raising the Wind Off the Hebrides First Sight of Land Scenery of the North 
 Channel A Burial at Sea The Isle of Man Approach to Liverpool Objects on 
 Landing A Race for the Custom House A Day in Liverpool, .... 24 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Leaving Liverpool The Second Cabin again Irish Fellow Passengers The Channel 
 The Northern Coast of Ireland Port Rush A Rainy Day An Irish Hut 
 Dunluce Castle Rain and Ruin The Giant s Causeway The Giant s Well- 
 Basaltic Columns The Giant s Organ, and Chimneys A Coast Scene The Shore 
 at Night "Wandering in the Storm Return to Port Rush, .... 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Passage to Greenock The Deck Passengers Arrival at Night The Blind Fiddler- 
 Dumbarton Rock An Adventure " On Leven s Banks " Loch Lomond Voyage 
 up the Lake Anecdotes Sailing on a Meadow The Ascent of Ben Lomond- 
 View from the Summit The Descent Highland Scenery Loch Katrine The 
 Boatmen Trip down the Lake Ellen s Isle The Trosachs The Inn of Ard- 
 cheancrochan, . ............. 4^ 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 Horning on Loch Katrine Walk to Stirling Out-door Life The Burns Festival 
 Preparations Journey to Ayr The " Twa Brigs "The Streets of Ayr Scotch 
 Beggars An Incident The Burns Cottage Alloway Kirk English Exclusiveness 
 The Sister and Sons of Burns Lord Eglintoun Professor Wilson The Proces 
 sion Performance of Tarn O Shanter The Burns Monument Speech of Robert 
 Burns An Anecdote of the Poet Crowd at the Station Return to Glasgow, 61 
 
Xli CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Ride to Edinburgh The Monumental City Lost and Found Seeing Edinburgh 
 The March Resumed The Muirfoot Hills American Books at Melrose Wading 
 the Tweed Abbotsford The Armory and Library Scott s Study A "Prospect 11 
 Recovered Ruins of Melrose Abbey Teviot Dale Jedburgh Over the Border 
 Scenery of the Cheviots Appreciative Tourists Shepherds on Chevy Chase The 
 Moorland A Night at Whelpington Knowes Walk to Newcastle Cheap Lodgings 
 The Roman Wall Miners in Distress Passage for London A Meeting The 
 Voyage The Thames at Night London at Dawn, 64 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Entering London Cheap Lodgings and Bad Company The Thoroughfares St. 
 Paul s View from the Dome St. James s Park Westminster Abbey Poet s 
 Corner Tombs of Sovereigns Hall of the Bath The Thames Tunnel The lowas 
 again The Parks Crime and Misery in London The End of our Sojourn Cost 
 of the Tour through Scotland, 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Feelings on Visiting the Continent Imprisonment at Dover Arrival at Ostend 
 A Stroll The Streets of Bruges The Cathedral The Belfry and its Chimes 
 A Night on the Canal Ghent A Rainy Ride Scenery of the Meuse Entering 
 Prussia Aix-la-Chapelle The Cathedral The Tomb of Charlemagne The Ca 
 thedral of Cologne Tradition of its Plan The Smells of the Streets, . . 88 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 [n Heidelberg The Star Hotel at Bonn Passing the Drachenfels Coblentz and 
 Ehrenbreitstein The Charms of the Rhine Lurlei Rock and its Echo A Rainbow 
 at Oberwesel Mayence Ride to Frankfort Hunting an Address Mr. Richard S. 
 Willis The Festival at Darmstadt Scenery of the Bergstrasse German Peasants- 
 Fellow Passengers Heidelberg at Sunset A Resting Place 96 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Booms in Heidelberg The Landlady View from our Window The Valley of the 
 Neckar Heidelberg Castle The Towers The Great Tun The Wolfsbrunnen 
 An Afternoon Party Ascent of the Heiligenberg The Pastor of Zeigelhausen 
 The University Library A Wedding Conscripts German Cookery and Cus 
 tomsThe Melibochus The Sea of Rocks The Giant s Column Return, . 105 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Removal to Frankfort A German Parting Twilight on the Mountains The Inn of 
 Elsbach A ^rosty Morning A Village Fair The Castle of Erbach Historical 
 Armor An Antiquarian Theft Curiosity of the Peasants Castle of the Wild 
 Huntsman An Old Peasant The Emigrant Family, , 117 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Frankfort and Its Associations Our Quarters Mr. Richard S. Willis The Market- 
 WomenInauguration of the Statue of Goethe The Streets of Frankfort Tho 
 Main Bridge The Golden Cock Weather Baron Rothschild The Promenades- 
 Celebration of the Vintage The Poet Freiligrath .125 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 A. "Walk to Heidelberg Winter Journey A Gammers The Red Fisherman The 
 Hall of Assembly The Students Songs and Speeches The Ceremony of the 
 Landsfather Gervinus and Schlosser A Duel at Neuenheim Its Result Charac 
 ter of the Students, 134 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Expenses of the First Six Months Abroad Prospects for the Future Christinas In 
 Germany The Christmas Booths Visit of St. Nicholas Preparations for Christ 
 mas Excitement among the Children Christmas Eve The Christmas Tree- 
 Poetry of the Festival Welcome to the New Tear Scene in the Streets, 148 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Sports on the Ice Lessing s Picture of Huss The Eschernheim Tower Severity 
 of the Winter Sufferings of Men and Beasts My Winter Life Matteus and the 
 Stove Hopes of Spring The Fair Picturesque Crowds A Vender of Black. i;g 
 
 I>j se of the Main The City Inundated Sachsenhausen under Water A Day of 
 
 Sunshine Faces in the Streets German Beauty The Flood Increases Devasta 
 tion The River Falls An Explosion German Fire-Engines and Firemen, . 149 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Beauty of Spring The Frankfort Cemetery Precautions agaiust Burying 
 
 Aiive Monument by Thorwaldsen The Speaking Deaf Manner of Healing them 
 
 Story of a Boy The Hall of the Emperors Mendelssohn, the Composer Seeing 
 
 him iu a Crowd Interview with him His Personal Appearance and Conversation, 
 
 168 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Leaving Frankfort Plan of our German Tour The Country in Spring A " Fighting" 
 Journeyman Giessen The Valley of the Lahn Foot-travelling in Hesse Cassel 
 A Village Inn A Tattling Boy Mountain Scenery Meeting with Students The 
 City of Cassel Carl, the Student Walk to the Wilhelmshohe The Giant s Castle- 
 Cascades and Fountains, 172 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Parting from Carl The Town of Munden Illness Gottingen, and a Physician- 
 Approach to the Hartz Osterode Entering the Mountains Wild Scenery A 
 Stormy Night Climbing the Brocken A Snow Storm Perilous Travelling The 
 Brocken House The Spectre Peeps through the Clouds Descent of the Brockei 
 Valleys of the Hartzr-The Rosstrappe The Landlady s Legend Walk to Hal- 
 berstadt A Suspicious Inn The Sleeping Chamber Anticipation of Murder- 
 Relief, 18 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Magdeburg Suspected Passengers Leipsic View of the Battle-Field The Rosen- 
 thai Schiller s Room Auerbach s Cellar Leipsic Publishers Gerstacker Charms 
 of Dresden The Picture Gallery The Madonna di San Sisto Monument to 
 Moreau The Royal Library The Green Vaults Cages of Gems Royal Play 
 things, 194 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 Farewell to Dresden The King of Saxony Beauty of the Country Sunken Glens-- 
 The Uttewalder Grund- Precipice of the Bastei Effects of the Inundation The 
 Fortress of Konigstein Anecdote of a Baron A Mountain Valley A Cascade 
 Show The Kuhstall The Little Winterberg Cloudy Landscapes The Prebisch- 
 thor Entering Austria Bohemian Scenery The Battle-Field of Kulm The 
 Baths of Teplitz Plains of the Elbe Distant View of Prague, . . . 2C3 
 
 CHAPTEE XXL 
 
 Impressions of Prague Past and Present The Moldau Bridge Johannes of Ncpo- 
 muck A Day Dream The Cathedral The Shrine of Nepomuck Jesuitical 
 Music An Attack of Jews The Old Hebrew Cemetery, ... 215 
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 The Scenery of Bohemia The Inhabitants "Wayside Shrines Disgusting Images- 
 Devotion of the People Iglau The Peasant Girls Bohemian Teams A Eeligions 
 Pageant A New Companion His Astonishment Lodging with the Lancers The 
 City of Znaim Talk with the Handwerker Earn A Drunken Baron Summer 
 Scenery First View of the Alps The Valley ;f the Danube Arrival at Vienna, 
 
 222 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 Vienna The Ferdinand s Bridge The Streets The Old CityThe Suburbs Beau 
 ty of the Prater St. Stephen s Cathedral The Belvidere Gallery The Lower 
 Belvidere Historical Relics The Eespectful Custode The Iron Stick Strauss 
 and his Band The Tomb of Beethoven Galleries of Art The Imperial Library 
 Cabinet of Natural History State Carriages of Austria Prince Liechtenstein s 
 Gallery Correggio s Venus and Cupid The Imperial Armory The Crusty Custode 
 A Pole Eelics of the Past Banners of the Crusaders A Scene at the Police 
 Office Light Hearts and Empty Purses, 232 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 A Strong "Wind The Palace of Schonbrunn The Abbey of Melk The Luxury of 
 Foot-Travel American Scenery Eencontre with Bohemian Gipsies Danubian 
 Landscapes The Styrian Alps Holy Florian Votive Shrines Linz and its Towers 
 More Money Wanted Lambach A Mountain Portrait Falls of the Trauii Bat 
 tle-Field of the Unknown Student, 249 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 the Lake of Gmunden Among the Alps The Lumber Business The Baths of Ischl 
 -St. Wolfgang- Climbing the Schafberg Lost The Track of an Avalanche- 
 Walking over a Forest Panorama from the Summit Descent to St. Gil gen An 
 Alpine Eden The Shoemaker and his Wife" Footsteps of Angels "The Valley 
 of Salzburg- The Alps -The Boy of the Mountain Sights in Salzburg Entering 
 Bavaria People and Scenery -Wasserburg Field of Hohenlinden Arrival at 
 Munich An Enthusiastic Acquaintance, 268 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The Splendor of Munich King Ludwig s Labors The Ludwigstrasse The Library 
 The Church of St. Louis Monument to Eugene Beauharnois The Parks on the 
 Isar The New Residence Magnificence of its Halls Hall of the Throne The 
 King s Apartments The Royal Chapel A Picture of Devotion The Glyptothek 
 Its Sculptures The Son of Niobe The Pinacothek A Giant The Basilica 
 Schwanthaler s Studio History of an Artisan Condition of our Finances, . 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 The Railroad to Augsburg Traces of Ancient Splendor Walk to Ulna Entering 
 Wurtemburg Seeking Lodgings in the Rain The " Golden Wheel" Funds 
 Good-bye to the Alps The Valley of the Fils The Suabian Land Arrival at 
 Stuttgard Thorwaldsen s Statue of Schiller The Bewildered Omnibus Driver- 
 Walking in the Rain Ludwigsburg Empty Pockets Beauty of the Zabergau 
 The Last Night Approaching Heidelberg Familiar Scenes The Castle An End 
 of Hardship A Student s Burial Return to Frankfort A Midnight Farewell, 284 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 On the way to Italy Meeting with a Neighbor A Talk with the Farmers Journey 
 to Freiburg The Minster Market Day The New Railroad The Institute for 
 the Blind The Grand Duchess Stephanie The Kingdom of Heaven The Valley 
 of Hell Natives of the Black Forest Climbing the Feldberg Scenery of the Black 
 Forest The Alps again We enter Switzerland Schaif hausen The Falls of the 
 Rhine, t 296 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Canton Zurich The Country and People The City of Zurich Its Promenades- 
 Friendly Greetings Walk along the Lake Shore The Alp-Glow The Grave of 
 Ulrich von Hutten Freiligrath, the Banished Poet The Alps in the Rain Ein- 
 siedeln The Cathedral and Pilgrims Music Alpine Scenery The Slide of the 
 Rossberg Schwytz The Lake of the Four Cantons The Meadow of Griitli Tell s 
 Chapel Altorf Night in the Valley of the Reuss, 805 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 An Alpine Day Chasm of the Reuss The Devil s Bridge Andermatt Climbing 
 the St. Gothard Summit of the Pass A Rapid Descent into Italy Valley of the 
 Ticino Rugged Scenery Southern Vegetation Vineyards Italian Experiences- 
 Junction with the Spliigen Road Bacchus On Lago Maggiore The Borromea^ 
 Isles Landing in Lombardy An Italian Landlord Arrival at Milan, . . 817 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 The Streets of Milan The Duomo Its Interior-Art based on Nature Italian 
 Priestcraft The Arch of Peace Financial Distress Relieved by a German 
 Lawyer Thunder Sto ms Lions in Pavia Crossing the Po Magnificent View 
 of the Alps-The Second Day s Travel An Italian Sunset A Pinta of Wine- 
 MorningPilgrim Travel First View of the Mediterranean The Descent to 
 Geaoa, . . . ... .827 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Gnoa at Sunset Appearance of the City A Religious Procession Anothei 
 Financial Difficulty Embarking for Leghorn A Night at See Morning in Tus 
 cany--Landing A Polyglott Population The Ardenza Criminals at Work- -Mj 
 Comrades Relieved Approach to Pisa The City The Leaning Tower The 
 Echo in the Baptistery The Campo Santo A Vetturino for Florence -An 
 Italian (Joinpanion Night-Journey in tlie Rain Florence at Last, . . 839 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Rooms In Florence Cost of Living The Royal Gallery-The Venus de Medici- 
 Titian and Raphael Michael Angela- -The Hall of Niobe Value of Art to Italy 
 A Walk to Fiesole View of Val d Arno Ancient Roman Theatre Etruscan 
 Walls The Tombs of Santa Croce The Pitti Palace Titian s "Bella" The Ma 
 donna della Sedia Michael Angelo s " Fates" The Boboli Gardens Royal a^d 
 Republican Children, . .. ..... . 851 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A Pilgrimage to Vallombrosa The Valley of the Arno Rain Tuscan Peasants 
 Pellago Associations Climbing the Mountain Pastoral Scenery Monastic 
 Wealth Arrival at Vallombrosa An Italian Panorama The Paradisino An 
 Escape from the Devil A Capture by the Devil The Chapel Milton in Italy- 
 Departure from Vallombrosa Evening en the Mountain Side The Charms of 
 Italy, 862 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A Walk to Siena The Landlady The Inn at Querciola Siena and its Cathedral- 
 Parting from F The Grapes of Italy The Dome of the Duomo Climbing 
 
 in the Dark A Cathedral Scene Walk to Pratolino The Vintage The Colossus 
 of the Appenines The Grand Duke s Farm Degeneracy of the Modern Italians 
 The Joy of Travel The Races at the Cascine The Holy Places of Florence The 
 Anatomical Museum American Artists in Florence Progress of American Art 
 Brown Kellogg Greenough Ives Mozier Powers The Statue of Eve The 
 Fisher Boy Ibrahim Pasha in Florence Tuscan Winter Galileo s Tower Our 
 Financial Experiences Relief The Memory of Pleasure and Privation An Inci 
 dent Boat Voyage on the Arno Amateur Starvation The Ascent 01 Monte 
 Morello The Chapel of the Medici A Farewell Meditation, . .871 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Departure from Florence Rain among the Appenines The Inn at Cucma Talks 
 with the Tuscan Peasants Central Italy Arezzo Italian Country Inns Engaging 
 a Calesino Lake Thrasymene The Battle-field Night-Ride to Perugia Journey 
 to Foligno Vale of the Clitumnus Our Fellow Passengers Spoleto and Monte 
 Somma Terni without the Cascade Narni Otricoli Travelling by Vetturino 
 Soracte at Sunset Walking with the Dragoon The Campagna First Sight of St. 
 Peter s Entering Rome The Pantheon by Starlight The Dragoons Adieu- 
 Borne, .... .894 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 The First Day in Rome The Corso We find the Forum Trajan s Column Papal 
 Profanation St. Peter s Found The Square and Obelisk The Interior of St* 
 Peter s The Galleries of the Vatican Statues Ancient Ark-Hernicycle of tho 
 Belvidere The Laocoon The Divine Apollo New Years Day in Rome -The 
 Quirinal Hill St. John Lateran The Temple of Vesta The Pyramid of Cestius 
 The Tombs of Keats and Shelley The Ruins of Rome The Coliseum at Sunset 
 Mausoleum of Augustus Crawford s Studio The Square of the Pantheon Pro 
 fane and Pious Beggars The Trattoria del Sole Impressions of Roman Ruins 
 The Coliseum by Moonlight, 407 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Excursion to Tivoli A Sulphur Bath The Temple of the Sibyl A Windy Night 
 The Cascade of the Anio The Cascatelles The Campagna Museum of the 
 Capitol The Dying Gladiator Ruins on the Campagna Tomb of Cecilia Metella 
 The Aqueducts Egeria s Grotto The Villa Borghese Tasso s Tomb Passport 
 Fees in Italy The Turning Point of the Pilgrimage Farewell ! . . . 423 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Departure from Rome The Campagna The Shore of the Mediterranean Civita 
 Vecchia The handsome Sailor Disadvantage of not being Servants Embarking 
 Sleeping on Deck Elba and Corsica by Moonlight Second Night on the Deck 
 A Rainy Day at Genoa A Stormy Night A Sailor s Compassion The Coast 
 of France Approach to Marseilles The Two Servants Marseilles Our Circum 
 stances. 432 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 "he Hills of Provence Rainy Travel A night at Aix Provencal Scenery The 
 Mother of Soldiers Bivouac at Senas The Valley of the Sorgues Approach to 
 Vaucluse The Fountain of Vaucluse More Rain A Gleam of Sunshine Avignon 
 The Blacksmith s Shop Economical Travel The Kindness of the Poor Roman 
 Remains at Orange Travel up the Rhone A Soldier s Camp Daybreak Scene 
 Valence The Rhone A Night at Vienne Approach to Lyons A Quandary 
 Monsieur and Madame Ferrand The Mistrust of Poverty Experiences in Lyons 
 Gloomy Days Le CacTiotr-The Sixth Day The Letter A Plan to Borrow a Franc 
 The Relief Excitement A Marvellous Change, 440 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 The Pleasure of Rest Leaving Lyons ^Voyage up the Saone An Inundation The 
 Strolling Musicians and their Child Walking in Burgundy The Upland Region 
 A Drenching Storm Slow Ride to Auxerre Miseries of a Country Diligence 
 The Bloody Seine Arrival at Paris Getting a Draft Paid Seeing Paris perforce-> 
 Letters from Home. 457 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Rooms to Let A disappointed Landlord Our Apartment, ch&s Lwiribert Living on 
 a Franc a Day Amusements The Streets of Paris The Place de la Concorde 
 The Hotel des Invalides The Garden of the Tuileries What we saw- The Ameri 
 can Minister An Experience of Suicide Empty Pockets again The Sick Mer 
 chaat Lying in Wait^-The Relief I Determine to visit London, . . 404 
 
XV111 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 Leaving Paris Versailles Travel in March The Suspicious Landlord The Scenery 
 of Normandy Eoueti The Vale of the Cailly A Windy Night 1 Hail the Atlantio 
 A Night at Dieppe Crossing the Channel From Brighton to London. . 478 
 
 CHAPTEK XLIV. 
 
 My Circumstances Lodgings in Aldgate Visits to the Printers Illiberal Rules of 
 the Craft Dodging a Landlord Success and Failure Happy and Penniless Visit 
 to Mr. Putnam The Mistrust of Poverty Employment at Last Life in Aldgate 
 Letters of Introduction A Breakfast with Lockhart Bernard Barton Croly 
 Daniol O Connell, and a Temperance Meeting Trip to Greenwich The "Fun of 
 the Fair "Games in the Park Greenwich Hill Ground and Lofty Tumbling A 
 Swinging Experiment London Atmosphere A Fog Arrival of Money and 
 Friends Embarking for Home, 478 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Quarters on Ship-board Passage through the Channel Portsmouth The Voyag 
 Home Excitement of Return Landing Land Sights and Scents The Last Day 
 of the Pilgrimage Approaching Home The Lighted Window Requisites for a 
 Pedestrian Journey Travelling on Small Allowance Cost of Sleeping The Knap 
 sackManner of Travel -Open- Air Life A Pedestrian s Equipment Books- 
 Sketching German Students Companions Ignorance concerning America 
 Hotels Country Taverns Passports Funds Personal Safety Comparative 
 Expense of Different Countries Statement of my Expenses Farewell, . 49 
 
VIEWS A-F GOT 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 AN enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted 
 me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, 
 amounting to positive belief, that I should one day behold 
 Khe scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered. 
 When a boy of ten years I read Willis s " Pencillings by the 
 Way," as they appeared from week to week in the country 
 -newspaper, and the contemplation of those charming pictures 
 of scenery and society filled me with a thousand dreams and 
 aspirations. I wandered along the shores of the Mediter 
 ranean, while hoeing corn or tending cattle in my father s 
 fields ; the geography of Europe and the East was at my 
 tongue s end, and the confidence with which I spoke of 
 going to London, and Paris, and Rome, often subjected me 
 to the ridicule of my schoolfellows. But this confidence 
 
18 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 was too settled for either ridicule or reason to shake in the 
 slightest degree. 
 
 In my fifteenth year, a little book entitled " The Tourist 
 in Europe," written by Mr. George P. Putnam, fell into my 
 hands. In addition to lively sketches of a summer trip on 
 the continent, it contained the programmes of several Euro 
 pean tours, with statements of the time, expenses, and other 
 details of travel, which furnished me with a basis whereon to 
 construct my own plans. The want of means was a serious 
 check to my anticipations ; but I could not content myself 
 to wait until I had slowly accumulated so large a sum as 
 tourists usually expend. It seemed to me that a more hum 
 ble method of seeing the world would place within the 
 power of almost every one, what had hitherto been deemed 
 the privilege of the wealthy few. Meanwhile, two years 
 passed away, and I became an apprentice to the printing 
 business in the neighboring county town. Howitt s " Rural 
 Life in Germany," which appeared about this time, confirm 
 ed me in my ideas, and I resolved to delay no longer, but 
 to undertake a pedestrian tour through Europe, as soon a,s 
 I could obtain sufficient means to start with. It was not 
 simply the desire for a roving life which impelled me ; it 
 was the wish to become acquainted with other languages 
 and other races ; to behold the wonders of classic and 
 mediaeval Art ; to look upon renowned landscapes and feel 
 the magic of grand historical associations ; in short, to 
 educate myself more completely and variously than my 
 situation and circumstances enabled me to do at home. 
 
 With this riew, I wrote to several gentlemen who had 
 made the tour of Europe, requesting information and advice. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 19 
 
 Without a single exception they answered that it would be 
 impossible to travel according to the estimates I had made, 
 or without the possession of sums, which then appeared to 
 me fortunes in themselves. I was not discouraged by their 
 replies, but, although I was entirely without money and 
 could not see where it was to come from, felt myself con 
 tinually drawing nearer to the realization of my hopes. 
 Finally, in January, 1844, my cousin, Dr. Frank Taylor, 
 announced his determination to visit Europe, and urged me 
 to accompany him. I had still two years of my apprentice 
 ship to serve ; the project was opposed by my friends as 
 something utterly visionary and impracticable ; my cousin 
 had barely sufficient means for himself, and my pockets 
 were as empty as they could well be ; but I decided to go. 
 For some months previous, I had been publishing from 
 time to time occasional boyish poems, which had procured 
 me the kind encouragement of Dr. Griswold, who was then 
 editor of " Graham s Magazine," and of Mr. N. P. Willis, 
 who was conducting the " New Mirror." The former gen* 
 tleman had advised me to commence my literary career with 
 a small volume of these effusions, and the idea came into 
 my head that by so doing, I might on the strength of some 
 inherent promise in the poems obtain a newspaper corre 
 spondence which would start me on my way. My friends, 
 whose personal kindness exceeded, for the time, their lite 
 rary taste, subscribed for a sufficient number of copies to 
 defray the expense of publication, and in the following 
 month, a small volume of very crude verses appeared. It 
 was charitably noticed by the Philadelphia press, however, 
 and subserved my plans by introducing me to the acquaint" 
 
20 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 auce of several literary gentlemen, who promised to aid me 
 with their influence. Trusting to this faint prospect of 
 procuring employment, I made preparations to leave the 
 printing-office, which I fortunately accomplished without 
 difficulty, the editor being willing to release me from my 
 engagement on conditions which I was able to fulfil. 
 
 Another friend arid schoolfellow, Mr. Barclay Pennock 
 (whose recently published " Religion of the Northmen" has 
 made his name known to the literary world), joined my 
 cousin and myself, and we at once began to prepare for our 
 departure. I made many applications to different editors, 
 and met with nothing but disappointment, Europe was 
 already becoming familiar to the reading public, and merely 
 descriptive letters, although not yet a drug in the literary 
 market, were no longer in the same demand as formerly. 
 Two weeks before the day fixed upon for leaving home, I 
 had secured no employment, and did not possess a dollar 
 towards my outfit. I then went to Philadelphia and spent 
 two or three days in calling upon all the principal editors 
 and publishers of the city, but I seemed doomed to be 
 unsuccessful. At last, when I was about to return home, 
 not in despair, but in a state of wonder as to where my 
 funds would come from (for I felt certain they would come), 
 Mr. Patterson, at that time publisher of the Saturday Eve 
 ning Post, offered me fifty dollars, in advance for twelve 
 letters, with the promise of continuing the engagement, if 
 the letters should be satisfactory. The Hon. Joseph R,. 
 Chandler, editor of the United States Gazette, then made 
 me a similar offer. It is needless to say that I instantly and 
 joyfully accepted both, and thus found myself in possession 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 21 
 
 of one hundred dollars. Mr. George ft. Graham also paid 
 me liberally for some manuscript poems, and I returned 
 home in triumph, with a fund of one hundred and forty 
 dollars, which at that time seemed sufficient to carry me to 
 the end of the world. 
 
 Our plan was to spend a year and a half in Europe, and 
 I trusted implicitly to future remuneration for letters for 
 my means, or, if that should fail, to my skill as a composi 
 tor, for I supposed I could at the worst work my way 
 through Europe, like the German handwerksbursckcn. My 
 parents, who had good reason to look upon the project at 
 first as the mad whim of a boy, were encouraged by this 
 first success, and their reluctant consent removed the only 
 shadow that hung over my dazzling hopes ; but many good 
 old country friends shook their heads gravely, predicting 
 that we would all return as repentant prodigals, in less than 
 six months. Our slender preparations were soon made. 
 My cousin and myself travelled on foot to Washington, 
 called on Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of State, procured 
 our passports, and walked home again. We took no more 
 baggage than we could carry in our hands, for, as we antici 
 pated being obliged to practise the strictest economy, we 
 determined to commence with the very moment of leaving 
 home. Towards the close of June the farewells were said, 
 and we went with light hearts, and by the cheapest route, 
 to New York. 
 
 I called at once upon Mr. Willis, who sympathized with 
 my own enthusiasm, and strengthened me with his hearty 
 encouragement. He gave me a note of recommendation, 
 with which I visited the editors of the leading journals, but 
 
22 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 failed to make any further engagements, except a condi 
 tional one with Horace Greeley, of the New York Tribune, 
 When I first called upon this gentleman, whose friendship 
 it is now my pride to claim, he addressed me with that 
 honest bluntness which is habitual to him: ".I am sick of 
 descriptive letters, and will have no more of them. But I 
 should like some sketches of German life and society, after 
 you have been there and know something about it. If the 
 letters are good, you shall be paid for them, but don t write 
 until you know something, This I faithfully promised, 
 and kept my promise so well, that I am afraid the eighteen 
 letters which I afterwards sent from Germany, and which 
 were published in the Tribune, were dull in proportion as 
 they were wise. Mr. Willis also gave me letters to some 
 printers of his acquaintance in London, thinking they might 
 be useful in case I should be compelled to resort to my 
 handicraft. 
 
 Our first plan was to take passage to some continental 
 port, and we spent two days in visiting the vessels in the 
 North and East Rivers, but could find none in which the 
 fare was less than fifty dollars. We were on the point of 
 embarking in a Dutch vessel, bound for Antwerp, the cap 
 tain of which agreed to take us for that sum, after Mr. Wil 
 lis had interceded with the consignees in our behalf; but as 
 we afterwards found we should be obliged to furnish our 
 own bedding and incur various other expenses, we relin 
 quished this chance, calculating that a steerage passage to 
 England would cost us but half the money, while the 
 remaining twenty-five dollars would support us for at least 
 a month after our arrival. We therefore took what was 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 23 
 
 then called a second-cabin passage, in the ship Oxford, for 
 Liverpool. The second-cabin was a small space amid-ships, 
 flanked with bales of cotton, and fitted up with temporary 
 berths of rough planks. We paid ten dollars apiece for the 
 passage, with the privilege of finding our own bedding and 
 provisions. At a warehouse of ships stores on Pine street 
 wharf we found everything that we needed, and received 
 great assistance from the salesman, who calculated with per 
 fect honesty and exactness what articles we should need, 
 and what quantity of each. In our inexperience we should 
 probably have gone to sea but half supplied. The ship s 
 cook, for a small compensation, undertook to prepare our 
 provisions, thus relieving us from one of the most disagreea 
 ble necessities of a second-class passage. On summing up 
 our expenses we were gratified to find that we should reach 
 Liverpool at a cost of twenty-four dollars apiece. 
 
 On the 1st of July, 1844, we left New York, sending s 
 last hastily pencilled note by the pilot, to our relatives at 
 home. As the blue hills of Neversink faded away and 
 sank with the sun behind the ocean, and I first felt the 
 swells of the Atlantic and the premonitions of sea-sickness, 
 my heart failed me, for the first and last time. The irre 
 vocable step was taken ; there was no possibility of retreat, 
 and a vague sense of doubt and alarm possessed me. Had 
 I then known anything of the world this feeling would have 
 been more than momentary ; but to my ignorance and 
 enthusiasm all things seemed possible, and the thoughtless 
 *ud happy confidence of youth soon returned. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 The Second Cabin Our Fellow Passengers Sea Life The Banks of Newfoundland- 
 Black Fish Unfavorable Weather The Iowa Indians Their Songs and Dances- 
 Raising the Wind Off the Hebrides First Sight of Land Scenery of the North 
 Channel A Burial at Sea The Isle of Man Approach to Liverpool Objects on 
 Landing A Eace for the Custom House A Day in Liverpool. 
 
 THE second cabin of the Oxford was just abaft the main 
 mast. A hatchway, barely large enough to admit a man s 
 body, communicated with the deck, or rather, with that 
 portion of it which we were allowed to frequent. Below, 
 there were eight berths and nine passengers, two of whom 
 were therefore obliged to turn in together. The lot fell 
 upon my cousin and myself, and as the berths were barely 
 wide enough for one, and not more than five feet long. I 
 suffered nightly tortures from cramped limbs. Our only 
 light came through the hatch, which was battened down in 
 stormy weather, leaving us in almost total darkness, with a 
 horrid sense of suffocation. Our box of stores, with a bag 
 of potatoes, were stowed under the berths, and our barrel of 
 pilot-bread served as a seat. Our fellow-passengers were a 
 
OUR FELLOW PASSENGERS. 26 
 
 motley company. There was an intelligent German student, 
 with a pale, melancholy face ; a wild young Englishman, 
 evidently of good family, but a runaway and heartily tired 
 of sailor life ; an honest Scotch woman, who had been two 
 years in Vermont ; two Irish grocers, and one of those indi 
 viduals whose characters are colorless, and whose presence 
 is almost as blank as the memory of them. We were soon 
 on familiar terms, and did our best to dissipate, by harmless 
 jollity, the annoyances of our situation. The German, 
 whose whole stock of provisions consisted of ten pounds of 
 soda crackers and a few lemons, was soon thrown upon our 
 hospitality, which he accepted with a readiness that made 
 him welcome. The Scotch woman, who entertained us with 
 legends of " that terrible man, Graham of Claverhouse," 
 shared also with us her store of Vermont gingerbread, as 
 long as it lasted. The Englishman sat down beside us with 
 his platter, and encouraged a mutual exchange of delicacies ; 
 but I must d<? the Irish grocers the justice to say that they 
 took care of themselves and were satisfied. Capt. Rathbone^ 
 the commander of the Oxford, was a fine specimen of the 
 hearty, generous sailor character, and never ceased to treat 
 us with kindness. He gave us the use of the cabin library, 
 and ordered the steward to supply us with any article we 
 might need. 
 
 Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt 
 from- the necessity of creature comforts, a sea-voyage would 
 be delightful. To the landsman there is sublimity in the 
 wild and ever-varied forms of the ocean ; they fill his mind 
 with living images of a glory he had only dreamed ef before. 
 But after a fortnight at sea we would have been willing u> 
 
26 VIEWS A-foot. 
 
 forego all this and get back the comforts of the shore. The 
 days dragged on so slowly that as we approached the Euro 
 pean side of the world, the space of a lifetime seemed to 
 separate us from the experiences of home. 
 
 As we approached the Banks of Newfoundland, a gale 
 arose, which for two days and nights carried us on, career 
 ing Mazeppa-like, up hill and down. The sea looked truly 
 magnificent, although the sailors told us it was nothing at all 
 in comparison with the storms of winter. But we were not 
 permitted to pass the Banks, without experiencing one of 
 the calms, for which that neighborhood is noted. For three 
 days we lay almost motionless on the glassy water, some 
 times surrounded by large flocks of sea-gulls. The weed 
 brought by the Gulf Stream floated around, and the branches 
 We fished up were full of beautiful little shells. Once a 
 large school of black-fish came around the vessel, and the 
 carpenter climbed down on the fore-chains with a harpoon, 
 to strike one. Scarcely had he taken his position, when 
 they all darted off in a straight line, through the water, and 
 were soon out of sight. He gravely declared they had 
 smelt the harpoon. 
 
 We congratulated ourselves on having reached the Banks 
 in seven days, as it is considered the longest third-part of 
 the passage. But the hopes of reaching Liverpool in 
 twenty days, were soon overthrown. A succession of 
 southerly winds drove the vessel as far north as Lat. 55 
 without bringing us much nearer our destination. It was 
 extremely cold, for we were but five degrees south of the 
 latitude of Greenland, and the long northern twilights camp 
 on. The last glow of the evening twilight had scarce! 
 
INDIANS AT SEA. 21 
 
 faded, before the first glimmering of dawn appeared. 1 
 found it extremely easy to read, at 10 P. M., on the deck. 
 
 We had much diversion on board from a company of 
 Iowa Indians, under the celebrated chief " White Cloud," 
 who were on a visit to England. They were truly a wild 
 looking company, and helped not a little to relieve the 
 tedium of the passage. The chief was a very grave and 
 dignified person, but some of the braves were merry enough. 
 One day we had a war-dance on deck, which was a most 
 ludicrous scene. The chief and two braves sat upon their 
 haunches, beating a small drum violently, and howling forth 
 their war-song, while the others in full dress, painted in a 
 grotesque style, leaped about, brandishing tomahawks and 
 spears, and terminating each dance with a terrific yell. Some 
 of the men were quite handsome, but the squaws were all 
 ugly. They occupied part of the second cabin, separated 
 only by a board partition from our room. This proximity 
 was anything but agreeable. They kept us awake more 
 than half the night, by singing and howling in the most 
 dolorous manner, with the accompaniment of slapping their 
 hands violently on their bare breasts. We tried an opposi 
 tion, and the German made our room ring with the chorus 
 from Der Fveischiitz but in vain. They would howl and 
 beat their breasts, and the pappoose icould squalJ. Any loss 
 of temper is therefore not to be wondered at, when my 
 cramped limbs alone were enough to drive off half the night s 
 slumber. 
 
 It was a pleasure, at least, to gaze on their strong athletic 
 frames. Their massive chests and powerful limbs put to 
 ihame our lean proportions. One old man. in narticular 
 
2 VIEWS A-FOOf. 
 
 who seemed the patriarch of the band, used to stand foi 
 hours on the quarter-deck, sublime and motionless as a 
 statue of Jupiter. An interesting incident occurred during 
 the calm of which I spoke. They began to be fearful we 
 were doomed to remain there forever, unless the spirits were 
 invoked for a favorable wind. Accordingly the prophet lit 
 his pipe and smoked with great deliberation, muttering all 
 the while in a low voice. Then, having obtained a bottle of 
 beer from the captain, he poured it solemnly over the stern 
 of the vessel into the sea. There were some indications of 
 wind at the time, and accordingly the next morning we had 
 a fine breeze, which the lowas attributed solely to the 
 Prophet s incantation and the offering of beer. 
 
 After a succession of calms and adverse winds, on the 
 25th we were off the Hebrides, and though not within sight 
 of land the southern winds came to us strongly freighted 
 with the meadow freshness of the Irish bogs, so we could at 
 least smell it. That day the wind became more favorable, 
 and the next morning we were all roused out of our berths 
 by sunrise, at the long wished-for cry of "land!" Just 
 under the golden flood of light that streamed through the 
 morning clouds, lay afar-off and indistinct the crags of an 
 island, with the top of a light-house visible at one extremity. 
 To the south of it, and barely distinguishable, so completely 
 was it blended in hue with the veiling cloud, loomed up a 
 lofty mountain. I shall never forget the sight. As we drew 
 nearer, the dim and soft outline it first wore, was broken into 
 a range of crags, with lofty precipices jutting out to the sea. 
 and sloping off inland The white wall of the light-house 
 shone in the morning s light, and the foa* ctf ic 
 
THE NORTH CHANNEL. 29 
 
 dashed up at the foot of the airy cliffs. It was worth all the 
 troubles of a long voyage, to feel the glorious excitement 
 which this herald of new scenes and new adventures created. 
 The light-house was en Tory Island, on the north-western 
 coast of Ireland. The captain decided on taking the North 
 Channel, as it was in our case nearer, as well as more interest 
 ing than the usual route. 
 
 We passed the Island of Ennistrahul, near the entrance 
 of Londonderry harbor, and at sunset saw in the distance 
 the islands of Islay and Jura, off the Scottish coast. Next 
 morning we were close to the promontory of Fairhead, a 
 bold, precipitous headland, like some of the Palisades on the 
 Hudson ; the highlands of the Mull of Cantire were on the 
 opposite side of the Channel, and the wind being ahead, we 
 tacked from shore to shore, running so near the Irish coast, 
 that we could see the little thatched huts, stacks of peat, 
 rind even rows of potatoes in the fields. It was a cheering 
 panorama: the view extended for miles inland, and the 
 fields of different colored grain were spread out before us, a 
 brilliant mosaic. Towards evening we passed Ailsa Crag, 
 the sea-birds home, within sight, though about twenty miles 
 distant. Some fishermen came off to us, towards evening, 
 and we succeeded in exchanging a few pounds of pilot bread 
 for fresh fish, which, fried by our black cook, made us a 
 feast fit for the Gods. Our provisions, which had held out 
 remarkably well, were almost entirely exhausted, and this 
 unexpected supply was as welcome to us as the loaves and 
 fishes to the famished multitude. 
 
 On Sunday, the 28th, we parsed the lofty headland of the 
 Mull of Gallowa.y and entered the Irish Sea. Here there 
 
80 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 wa? an occurrence of an impressive nature. A woman 
 belonging to the steerage, who had been ill the whole pas 
 sage, died the morning before. She appeared to be of a very 
 avaricious disposition, though this might indeed have been 
 the result of a laudable self-denial. In the morning she was 
 speechless, and while they were endeavoring to persuade her 
 to give up her keys to the captain, died. In her pocket were 
 found two parcels, containing forty sovereigns, sewed up with 
 the most miserly care. It was ascertained she had a widowed 
 mother in the north of Ireland, and judging her money 
 could be better applied than to paying for a funeral on 
 shore, *he captain gave orders for committing the body to the 
 waves It rained drearily as her corpse, covered with starred 
 bunting, was held at the gangway while the captain read the 
 funeral service ; then one plunge was heard, and a white ob 
 ject flashed up through the dark waters, as the ship passed on. 
 In the afternoon we passed the Isle of Man, having a 
 beautiful view of the Calf, with a white stream tumbling 
 down the rocks into the sea ; and at night saw the sun set 
 behind the mountains of Wales. About midnight, the pilot 
 came on board, and soon after sunrise I saw the distant 
 spires of Liverpool. The Welsh coast was studded with 
 windmills, all in motion, and the harbor spotted with buoys, 
 bells and floating lights. How delightful it was to behold 
 the green trees on the banks of the Mersey, and to know 
 that in a few hours we should be on land ! About 1 1 
 o clock we came to anchor in the channel of the Mersey, 
 near the docks, and after much noise, bustle and confusion, 
 were transferred, with our baggage, to a small steamboat, 
 giving a parting cheer to the lowas, who remained on board 
 
A RACE FOR THE CUSTOM HOUSE. 8] 
 
 On landing, I halted a moment to observe the scene. The 
 baggage-wagons, drawn by horses, mules and donkeys, wore 
 extraordinary objects to my eyes ; men were going about 
 crying " the celebrated Tralorum gingerbread /" which they 
 carried in baskets, and a boy with long blue gown and yel 
 low knee-breeches, was running to the wharf to look at the 
 Indians. A man came up to me, exclaiming, " These are the 
 genuine Tralorums!" and hunger (for our supplies were all 
 gone), Combined with curiosity, induced me to purchase some 
 of theft). I was not in a good condition to discriminate, but 
 I found the Tralorums worthy of their great renown. 
 
 At last, the carts were all loaded, the word was given to 
 start, and then, what a scene ensued ! Away went the 
 mules, the horses and the donkeys ; away ran men and 
 women and children, carrying chairs and trunks, and boxes 
 and bedding. The wind was blowing, and the dust whirled 
 up as they dashed helter-skelter through the gate and 
 started off on a hot race, down the dock to the customs 
 office. Two wagons came together, one of which was over 
 turned, scattering the broken boxes of a Scotch family over 
 the pavement ; but while the poor woman was crying over 
 her loss, the tide swept on, scarcely taking time to glance at 
 the mishap. 
 
 The wild Englishman advised us to go to the Chorley 
 Tavern, where we could get a good dinner. On finding a 
 porter who knew where it was, we trusted ourselves entirely 
 to his guidance. Taking our baggage, he signified by a 
 mysterious sign, that we should follow him, and marched 
 directly into the city. We had gone about a hundred yards 
 and had lost sight of the Custom House, when one of the 
 
32 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 officers came up at full speed and commanded us to return 
 and submit our baggage to the usual examination. I antici 
 pated a rough handling, but everything we had was passed 
 with little trouble, the officer merely opening the trunks and 
 pressing his hands on the top. Even some American 
 reprints of English works which my companion carried, and 
 feared would be taken from him, were passed over without 
 a word I was agreeably surprised at this, as from the 
 accounts of some travellers, I had been led to fear horrible 
 things of custom-houses. This over, we took a stroll about 
 the city. I was first struck by seeing so many people 
 walking in the middle of the streets, and so many gentlemen 
 going about with pinks stuck in their button-holes. Then, 
 the houses being all built of brown stone or dark brick, 
 gives the town a sombre appearance, which the sunshine 
 (when there is any) cannot dispel. Of Liverpool we saw 
 little except that bountiful dinner at the Chorley Tavern a 
 meal ever to be remembered Before the twilight had 
 wholly faded, we were again tossing on the rough waves of 
 the Irish Sea. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 A DAY IN IRELAND. 
 
 tearing Liverpool The Second Cabin again Irish Fellow Passengers The Channel 
 The Northern Coast of Ireland Port Rush A Kainy Day An Irish Hut> 
 Dunluce Castle Rain and Ruin The Giant s Causeway The Giant s Well- 
 Basaltic Columns The Giant s Organ, and Chimneys A Coast Scene The Shore 
 at Night Wandering in the Storm Return to Port Rush. 
 
 INSTEAD of going directly to London, we decided to take 
 Scotland in our way, as the season was favorable for a pedes 
 trian tour in the Highlands. But there was no boat to 
 leave for Glasgow for two days, and rather than spend the 
 time uselessly in Liverpool, we embarked on board a small 
 steamer for Londonderry, which was to stop at Port Hush, 
 near the Giant s Causeway. The German student, who was 
 bound for Paris, sent his baggage to Havre, retaining only a 
 knapsack, and joined us for the trip. We also forwarded 
 our portmanteaus to London, and took with us only the most 
 necessary articles of clothing. On calling at the steamboat 
 office we found that the fare in the fore cabin was but two 
 shillings and a half, while in the chief cabin it was six times 
 as much. As I had started to make the tour of all Europe 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 with a sum little higher than is given for the mere passagf 
 across the ocean, there was no alternative the twenty -four 
 hours discomfort could be more easily endured than the 
 expense, and as I expected to encounter many hardships, it 
 was best to make a beginning I had crossed the ocean 
 with tolerable comfort for twenty-four dollars, and was 
 determined to try whether England, where I had been told 
 it was almost impossible to breathe without expense, might 
 not also be seen on the same scale of expenditure. We 
 accordingly took our tickets, and laid in a stock of bread 
 and cheese for provision on the way. 
 
 The fore cabin was merely a bare room, with a bench 
 along one side, which was occupied by half a dozen Irish 
 men in knee-breeches and heavy brogans. As we passed 
 out of the Clarence Dock at 10 P. M., I went below and 
 managed to get a seat on one end of the bench, where I 
 spent the night in sleepless misery. The Irish bestowed 
 themselves about the floor as they best could, for there was 
 no light, and very soon the deepness of their snoring gave 
 token of blissful unconsciousness. 
 
 The next morning was misty and rainy, but I preferred 
 walking the deck and drying myself occasionally beside the 
 chimney, to sitting in the dismal room below. We passed 
 the Isle of Man, and through the whole forenoon were 
 tossed about very disagreeably in the North Channel. In 
 the afternoon we stopped at Larne, a little antiquated village, 
 not far from Belfast, at the head of a crooked arm of the 
 sea. There is an old ivy-grown tower near, and high green 
 mountains rise up around. After leaving t, we had a beau 
 tiful panoramic view of the northern coast Many of the 
 
AN IRISH HUT. 35 
 
 precipices are of the same formation as the Causeway : 
 Fairhead, a promontory of this kind, is grand in the extreme. 
 The perpendicular face of fluted rock is about three hundred 
 feet in height, and towering up sublimely from the water, 
 seemed almost to overhang our heads. My companion com 
 pared it to Niagara Falls petrified ; and I thought the simile 
 very striking. It is like a cataract falling in huge waves, 
 in some places leaping out from a projecting rock, in others 
 descending in an unbroken sheet. 
 
 We passed the Giant s Causeway after dark, and about 
 eleven o clock reached the harbor of Port Rush, where, after 
 stumbling up a strange old street, in the dark, we found a 
 little inn, and soon forgot the Irish Coast and everything 
 else. 
 
 In the morning when we arose it was raining, with little 
 prospect of fair weather, but having expected nothing better, 
 we set out on foot for the Causeway. The rain, however, 
 soon came down in torrents, and we were obliged to take 
 shelter in a cabin by the road side. The whole house con 
 sisted of one room, with bare walls and roof, and earthen 
 floor, while a window of three or four panes supplied the 
 light A fire of peat was burning on the hearth, and the 
 breakfast, of potatoes alone, stood on the table. The occu 
 pants received us with rude but genuine hospitality, giving 
 us the only seats in the room to sit upon ; except a rickety 
 bedstead that stood in one corner and a small table, there 
 was no other furniture in the house. The man appeared 
 rather intelligent, and although he complained of the hard 
 ness of their lot, had no sympathy with O Connell or the 
 Repeal movement. 
 
36 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 We left this miserable hut as soon as it ceased raining 
 and, though there were many cabins along the road, few 
 were better than this. At length, after passing the walls of 
 an old church, in the midst of older tombs, we saw the roof 
 less towers of Dunluce Castle, on the sea-shore. It stands 
 on an isolated rock, rising perpendicularly two hundred feet 
 above the sea, and connected with the cliffs of the mainland 
 by a narrow arch of masonry. On the summit of the cliffs 
 are the remains of the buildings where the ancient lords 
 kept their vassals. An old man, who takes care of the cas 
 tle for Lord Antrim, on whose property it is situated, show 
 ed us the way down the cliff. We walked across the 
 narrow arch, entered the ruined hall, and looked down on the 
 roaring sea below. It still rained, the wind swept furiously 
 through the decaying arches of the banqueting hall and 
 waved the long grass on the desolate battlements. Far 
 below, the sea foamed white on the breakers and sent up an 
 unceasing boom. It was the most mournful -and desolate 
 picture I had ever beheld. There were some low dungeons 
 yet entire, and rude stairways, where, by stooping down, I 
 could ascend nearly to the top of one of the towers, and 
 look out on the wild scenery of the coast. 
 
 Going back, I found a way down the cliff, to the mouth of 
 a cavern in the rock, which extends under the whole castle 
 to the sea. Sliding down a heap of sand and stones I stood 
 under an arch eighty feet high ; in front the breakers dashed 
 into the entrance, flinging the spray half-way to the roof, 
 while the sound rang up through the arches like thunder. 
 k t seemed to me the haunt of the old Norse sea-gods ! 
 
 We left the road near Dunluce and walked along the 
 
1HE GIANT S CAUSEWAY. 37 
 
 smooth beach to the cliffs that surround the Causeway. 
 Here we obtained a guide, and descended to one of the 
 caves which can be entered from the shore. Opposite the 
 entrance a bare rock called Sea Gull Isle, rises out of the 
 sea like a church steeple. The roof at first was low, but we 
 shortly came to a branch that opened on the sea, where the 
 arch was forty-six feet in height. The breakers dashed far 
 into the cave, and flocks of sea-birds circled round its mouth. 
 The sound of a gun was like a deafening peal of thunder, 
 crashing from arch to arch till it rolled out of the cavern. 
 
 On the top of the hill a spacious hotel is erected for visi 
 tors to the Causeway ; after passing this we descended to 
 the base of the cliffs, which are here upwards of four hun 
 dred feet high, and soon began to find, in the columnar 
 formation of the rocks, indications of our approach to the 
 spot. The guide pointed out some columns which appeared 
 to have been melted and run together, from which Sir Hum 
 phrey Davy attributed the formation of the Causeway to the 
 action of fire. Near this is the Giant s Well, a spring of the 
 purest water, the bottom formed by three perfect hexagons, 
 and the sides of regular columns. One of us observing that 
 no giant had ever drunk from it, the old man answered 
 " Perhaps not : but it was made by a giant God Almighty !" 
 
 From the well, the Causeway commences a mass of 
 columns from triangular to octagonal, lying in compact forms, 
 and extending into the sea. I was somewhat disappointed 
 at first, having supposed the Causeway to be of great height, 
 but I found the Giant s Loom, which is the highest part of 
 it, to be but about fifty feet from the water. The singular 
 appearance of the columns and the many strange forms 
 
88 TIEWS 
 
 which they assume, render it, nevertheless, an object of tha 
 greatest interest. Walking out on the rocks we came to the 
 Ladies Chair, the seat, back, sides and footstool, being all 
 regularly formed by the broken columns. The guide said 
 that any lady who would take three drinks from the Giant s 
 Well, then sit in this chair and think of any gentleman for 
 whom she had a preference, would be married before a 
 twelvemonth. I asked him if it would answer as well for 
 gentlemen, for by a wonderful coincidence we had each 
 drunk three times at the well! He said it would, and 
 thought he was confirming his statement. 
 
 A cluster of columns about half way up the cliff is called 
 the Giant s Organ from its very striking resemblance to 
 that instrument, and a single rock, worn by the waves into 
 the shape of a rude seat, is his chair. A mile or two further 
 along the coast, two cliffs project from the range, leaving a 
 vast semicircular space between, which, from its resemblance 
 to the old Roman theatres, was appropriated for that pur 
 pose by the Giant. Half-way down the crags are two or 
 three pinnacles of rock, called the Chimneys, and the 
 stumps of several others can be seen, which, it is said, were 
 shot off by a vessel belonging to the Spanish Armada, in 
 mistake for the towers of Dunluce Castle. The vessel was 
 afterwards wrecked, in the bay below, which has ever since 
 been called Spanish Bay, and in calm weather the wreck 
 may be still seen. Many of the columns of the Causeway 
 have been carried off and sold as pillars for mantels anO 
 though a notice is put up threatening persons with the rigor 
 of the law, depredations are occasionally made. 
 
THE SHORE AT NIGHT. 39 
 
 Returning, we left the road at Dunluce, and took a path 
 w-hich led along the summit of the cliffs. The twilight was 
 gathering and the wind blew with great fury, which, com 
 bined with the black and stormy sky, gave the coast an air 
 of extreme wildness. All at once, as we followed the wind 
 ing path, the crags appeared to open before us, disclosing a 
 yawning chasm, down which a large stream, falling in an 
 unbroken sheet, was lost in the gloom below. Witnessed in 
 a calm day, there may perhaps be nothing striking about it, 
 but coming upon us at once, through the gloom of twilight, 
 with the sea thundering below and a scowling sky above, it 
 was absolutely startling. 
 
 The path at last wound, with many a steep and slippery 
 bend, down the almost perpendicular crags, to the shore, at 
 the foot of a giant isolated rock, having a natural arch 
 through it, eighty feet in height. We followed the narrow 
 strip of beach, having the bare crags on one side and a line 
 of foaming breakers on the other. It soon grew dark ; a 
 furious storm came up and swept like a hurricane along the 
 shore. I then understood what Home means by " the 
 lengthening javelins of the blast/ for every drop seemed to 
 strike with the force of an arrow, and our clothes were soon 
 pierced in every part. 
 
 Then we went up among the sand hills, and lost each 
 other in the darkness, when, after stumbling about among 
 the gullies for half an hour, shouting for my companions, I 
 found the road and heard my call answered ; but it happen 
 ed to be two Irishmen, who came up and said " And is it 
 another gintleman ye re callin for? we heard some one 
 eryin , and didn t know but somebody might be kilt. 5 
 
all arrmd at tbe IB* 
 
ER IV. 
 
 BXY LOMOTD A * THM HICHLAW IA! 
 
 :: -^ 
 
42 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 nances there was scarcely a mark of intelligence ; they were 
 a most brutalized and degraded company of beings. Many 
 of them were in a beastly state of intoxication, which, from 
 the contents of the pockets of some, was not likely to 
 decrease. As evening drew on, two or three began singing, 
 and the others collected in groups around them. One of 
 them, who sang with great spirit, was loudly applauded, and 
 poured forth song after song, of the most vulgar and hide* 
 cent character. 
 
 We took a deck passage for three shillings, in preference 
 to paying twenty for the cabin, and having secured a vacant 
 place near the chimney, kept it during the whole passage 
 The waves were as rough in the Channel as I had seen them 
 on the Atlantic, and our boat was tossed about like a play 
 thing. By keeping still, we escaped sickness, but we could 
 not avoi the sight of the miserable beings who crowded 
 the deck. Many of them spoke in the Irish tongue, and 
 our German friend (the student whom I have already men 
 tioned) noticed in many of the words a resemblance to his 
 mother tongue. I procured a bowl of soup from the stew 
 ard, but it was so greasy and repulsive that I was unable to 
 eat it, and gave it to an old man whose hungry look and 
 wistful eyes convinced me it would not be lost on him. Ho 
 swallowed it with ravenous avidity, together with a crust of 
 bread, which was all I had to give him, and seemed for the 
 time as happy and cheerful as if all his earthly wants were 
 satisfied. 
 
 We passed by the foot of Goat Fell, a lofty mountain on 
 the island of Arran, and sped on through the darkness past 
 the hill* of Bute, till we entered the Clyde. We arrived at 
 
THE BLIND FIDDLER. 43 
 
 Greenock at one o clock at night. All the houses were 
 closed, and we walked for some time at random through its 
 silent streets, until we met a policeman, to whom we stated our 
 case, and asked him to show us where we might find cheap 
 lodgings. He took my cousin and myself to the house of a 
 poor widow, who had a spare bed which she let to strangers, 
 and then conducted our comrade and the German to another 
 similar lodging-place. 
 
 An Irish strolling musician, who was on board the Dum 
 barton boat, commenced playing soon after we left Greenock 
 next morning, and, to my surprise, struck at once into <; Hail 
 Columbia." Then he gave the Exile of Erin," with the 
 most touching sweetness , and I noticed that always after 
 playing any air that was desired of him, he would invariably 
 return to the sad lament, which I never heard executed with 
 more feeling. It might have been the mild, soft air of the 
 morning, or some peculiar mood of mind that influenced me, 
 but I have been far less affected by music which would be 
 considered immeasurably superior to his. I had been think 
 ing of America, and going up to the old man, I quietly bade 
 him play " Home." It thrilled with a painful delight that 
 almost brought tears to my eyes. My companion started as 
 the sweet melody arose, and turned towards me, his face 
 kindling with emotion. 
 
 Dumbarton Rock rose higher and higher as we went up 
 the Clyde, and before we arrived at the town I hailed the 
 dim outline of Ben Lomond, rising far off among the high 
 lands. The town is at the head of a small inlet, a short 
 distance from the rock, which was once surrounded by water. 
 We went immediately to the Castle. The rock is nearly 
 
44 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 500 feet high, and from its position and great strength as a 
 fortress has been called the Gibraltar of Scotland. The 
 top is surrounded with battlements, and the armory and 
 barracks stand in a gap between the two peaks. We passed 
 down a green lane, around the rock, and entered the Castle 
 on the south side. A soldier conducted us through a narrow 
 cleft, overhung with crags, to the summit. Here, from the 
 remains of a round building, called Wallace s Tower, from 
 its having been used as a look-out station by that chieftain, 
 we had a beautiful view of the whole of Leven Vale to 
 Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond and the Highlands, and on the 
 other hand, the Clyde and the Isle of Bute. In the soft 
 and still balminess of the morning, it was a lovely picture. 
 In the armory, I lifted the sword of Wallace, a two-liandecl 
 weapon, five feet in length. We also examined a Locha- 
 ber battle-axe, from Bannockburn, and several ancient 
 claymores. I had a little adventure at Dumbarton, which 
 came near bringing my travels to a sudden termination. 
 Noticing a bunch of pink mallows growing in a crevice of 
 the rock, seventy or eighty feet from the ground, I climbed 
 up the projecting points to get them. The rock at last 
 became perpendicular, and I only found a little notch where 
 [ could rest the end of one foot. The mallows were still 
 just beyond my reach, whereupon I caught hold of a bunch 
 of tough grass with one hand, and drew myself slowly up 
 until I plucked the flowers with the other. On lowering 
 myself back again, I could not find the notch, and hung thus 
 by one hand to the frail bunch of grass, which threatened 
 to give way beneath my weight. It could not have been 
 many seconds before I recovered the slender foothold, b"t 
 
"ON LEVEN S BANKS." 45 
 
 when I reached the ground I was bathed from head to foot 
 in a cold perspiration, and had some difficulty in concealing 
 from my comrades the faintness I felt. 
 
 We lingered long upon the summit before we forsook the 
 stern fortress for the sweet vale spread out before us. It 
 was indeed a glorious walk, from Dumbarton to Loch 
 Lomond, through this enchanting valley. The air was mild 
 and clear ; a few light clouds occasionally crossing the sky, 
 chequered the hills with sun and shade. I have as yet seen 
 nothing that in pastoral beauty can compare with its glassy 
 winding stream, its mossy old woods, and guarding hills - 
 and the ivy grown, castellated towers embosomed in its 
 forests, or standing on the banks of the Leven the purest 
 of rivers. At a little village called Renton, is a monument 
 to Smollett, but the inhabitants seem to neglect his memory, 
 as one of the tablets on the pedestal is broken and half 
 fallen away Further up the vale a farmer showed us an 
 vld mansion in the midst of a group of trees on the t ank of 
 the Leveiv, which he said belonged to Smollett or Roderick 
 Random, as he called him. Two or three old pear trees, 
 under which he was accustomed to play in his childhood, 
 were still standing where the garden had formerly been. 
 
 At the head of Leven Vale, we set off in the steamer 
 lk Water Witch over the crystal waters of Loch Lomond, 
 passing Inch Murnn, the deer-park of the Duke of Mon< 
 trose, and Inch Caillach, 
 
 " where gray pines wave 
 
 Their shadows o er Clan Alpine s grav." 
 
 Under the clear skv and golden light of the declining sun 
 
4(1 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 we entered the Highlands, and heard on every side names 
 we had learned long ago in the lays of Scott Here were 
 Grlen Fruin and Bannochar, Ross Dim and the pass of Beal- 
 nia-na. Further still, w$ passed Rob Roy s rock, where the 
 lake is locked in by lofty maintains The cone like peak 
 of Ben Lomond rises far above on the right, Ben Voirlich 
 stands in front, and the jagged crest of Ben Arthur looks 
 over the shoulders of the western hills. A Scotchman on 
 board pointed out to us the remarkable places, and related 
 many interesting legends. Above Inversnaid, where there 
 is a beautiful waterfall, leaping over the rock and glancing 
 out from the overhanging birches, we passed McFarland s 
 Island, concerning the origin of which name he gave a 
 history A nephew of one of the old Earls of Lennox, the 
 ruins of whose castle we saw on Inch Murrin, having mur 
 dered his uncle s cook in a quarrel, was obliged to flee for 
 his life. Returning after many years, he built a castle upon 
 this island, which was always afterwards named, on accoant 
 of his exile, Far-land. On a precipitous point above Inver 
 snaid, are two caves in the rock ; one near the water is called 
 Rob Roy s, though the guides generally call it Bruce s also, 
 to avoid trouble, as the real Bruce s Cave is high up the hill. 
 It is so called, because Bruce hid there one night, from the 
 pursuit of his enemies. It is related that a mountain goat, 
 who used this probably for a sleeping place, entered, trod on 
 his mantle, and aroused him. Thinking his enemies were 
 upon him, he sprang up, and saw the silly animal before him. 
 In token of gratitude for this agreeable surprise, when he 
 became king, a law was passed, declaring goats free through 
 out all Scotland^ ^-unpunishable for whatever trespass they 
 
VOYAGE UP LOCH LOMOND. 47 
 
 might commit, and the legend further says, that not having 
 been repealed, it remains on the statute books at the present 
 day. 
 
 On the opposite shore of the lake is a large rock, called 
 Bull s Rock," having a door in the side, with a stairway 
 cut through the interior to a pulpit on the top, from which 
 the pastor at Arroquliar preaches a monthly discourse. The 
 Gaelic legend of the rock is, that it once stood near the 
 summit of the mountain above, and was very nearly balanced 
 on the edge of a precipice. Two wild bulls, fighting vio 
 lently, dashed with great force against the rock, which, 
 being thrown from its balance, was tumbled down the side 
 of the mountain, until it reached its present position The 
 Scot was speaking with great bitterness of the betrayal of 
 Wallace, when I asked him if it was still considered an 
 insult to turn a loaf of bread bottom upwards in the pre 
 sence of a Monteith. " Indeed it is, sir," said he, " I have 
 often done it myself." 
 
 Until last May, travellers were taken no higher up the 
 lake than Rob Roy s Cave, but another boat having com 
 menced running, they can now go beyond Loch Lomond, 
 two miles up Glen Falloch, to the Inn of Inverarnan, thereby 
 visiting some of the finest scenery in that part of the High 
 lands. It was ludicrous, however, to see the steamboat on 
 a river scarcely wider than herself, in a little valley, hemmed 
 in completely with lofty mountains. She went on, however, 
 pushing aside the thickets which lined both banks, and I 
 began to think she was going to take the shore for it, when 
 we came to a place widened out for her to be turned around 
 
48 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 in ; here we jumped ashore in a green meadow, on whicli 
 the cool mist was beginning to descend. 
 
 When we arose in the morning, at four o clock, to return 
 with the boat, the sun was already shining upon the west 
 ward hills, scarcely a cloud was in the sky, and the air was 
 pure and cool. To our great delight Ben Lomond was 
 unshrouded, and we were told that a more favorable day fbi 
 the ascent had not occurred for two months. We left the 
 boat at Rowardennan, an inn at the southern base of Ben 
 Lomond. After breakfasting on Loch Lomond trout, I stole 
 out to the shore while my companions were preparing for 
 the ascent, and made a hasty sketch of the lake. 
 
 We purposed descending on the northern side and cross 
 ing the Highlands to Loch Katrine. Although it was repre 
 sented as difficult and dangerous by the guide who wished to 
 accompany us, we determined to run the risk of being 
 enveloped in a cloud on the summit, and so set out alone, 
 the path appearing plain before us. We had no difficulty 
 in following it up the lesser heights, around the base. It 
 wound on, over rock arid bog, among the heather and broom 
 with which the mountain is covered, sometimes running up 
 a steep acclivity, and then winding zigzag around a rocky 
 ascent. The rains two days before, had made the bogs 
 damp and muddy, but with this exception, we had little 
 trouble for some time. Ben Lomond is a doubly formed 
 mountain For about three fourths of the way there is a 
 continued aseetvv when it is suadenly terminated by a large 
 barren plain, from one end of which the summit shoots up 
 abruptly, forming at the northern side a precipice five hun 
 
UNI V tKOI I T 
 
 BEN LOMOND. 49 
 
 dred feet high. As we approached the summit of the first 
 part of the mountain, the way became very steep and toil 
 spine ; but the prospect, which had before been only on the 
 south side, began to open on the east, and we saw suddenly 
 spread out below us, the vale cf Menteith, with " far Loch 
 Ard and Aberfoil " in the centre, and the huge front of 
 Benvenue filling up the picture- Taking courage from this 
 sight, we hurried on. The heather had become stunted 
 and dwarfish, and the ground was covered with short brown 
 grass. The mountain sheep, which we saw looking at us 
 from the rock above, had worn so many paths along the 
 side, that we could not tell which to take, but pushed on in 
 the direction of the summit, tvll thinking it must be near at 
 hand ; we found a mile and a half of plain before us, with 
 the top of Ben Lomond at the farther end, The plain was 
 full of wet moss, crossed in all directions by deep ravines or 
 gullies worn in it by the mountain rains, and the wind bwept 
 across with a tempest-like force. 
 
 f met near the base, a young gentleman from Edinburgh, 
 who had left Rowardennan before us. and we commenced 
 ascending together It was hard work, but neither liked to 
 stop, so we climbed up to the first resting place, and found 
 the path leading along the brink of a precipice. We soon 
 attained the summit, and mounting a little mound of earth 
 and stones, I saw the half of Scotland at a glance. The 
 clouds hung just above the mountain tops, which rose all 
 around like the waves of a mighty sea. On every side 
 near and far - stood their misty summits, but Ben Lomond 
 was the monarch of them all. Loch Lomond lay unrolled 
 under my feet like a beautiful map, and just opposite, Loch 
 
 3 
 
50 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Long thrust its head from between the feet of the crowded 
 hills to catch a glimpse of the giant. We could see from 
 Ben Nevis to Ayr from Edinburgh to Staffa. Stirling and 
 Edinburgh Castles would have been visible, but that the 
 clouds hung low in the valley of the Forth and hid them 
 from our sight. 
 
 The view from Ben Lomond is nearly twice as extensive 
 as that from Catskill, being uninterrupted on every side, but 
 it wants the glorious forest scenery, clear, blue sky, and 
 active, rejoicing character of the latter. We stayed about 
 two hours on the summit, taking refuge behind the cairn, 
 when the wind blew strong. I found the smallest of flowers 
 under a rock, and brought it away as a memento. In the 
 middle of the precipice there is a narrow ravine or rather 
 cleft in the rock, to the bottom, from whence the mountain 
 slopes regularly but steeply down to the valley. At the 
 bottom we stopped to awake the echoes, which were repeat 
 ed four times : our German companion sang the Hunter s 
 Chorus, which resounded magnificently through this High 
 land hall. We drank from the river Forth which starts from 
 a spring at the foot of the rock, and then commenced de 
 scending. This was also toilsome enough. The mountain 
 was quite wet and covered with loose stones, which, dis- 
 lodged by our feet, went rattling clown the side, oftentimes 
 to the danger of the foremost ones ; and when we had run 
 or rather slid down the three miles, to the bottom, our kneet 
 trembled so as scarcely to support us. 
 
 Here, at a cottage on the farm of Coman, we procured 
 some oat cakes and milk for dinner, from an old Scotch wo 
 man, who pointed out the direction of Loch Katrine, six 
 
SCENERY OF THE HIGHLANDS. 51 
 
 miles distant ; there was no road, nor indeed a solitary dwell 
 ing between. The hills were bare of trees, covered with 
 scraggy bushes and rough heath, which in some places was 
 so thick that we could scarcely drag our feet through. Added 
 to this, the ground was covered with a kind of moss that 
 retained the moisture like a sponge, so that our boots ere 
 long became thoroughly soaked Several large streams 
 were rushing down the declivities, and many of the wild 
 breed of black Highland cattle were grazing around. After 
 climbing up and down one or two heights, occasionally 
 startling the moorcock and ptarmigan from their heathery 
 coverts, we saw the valley of Loch Con ; while in the middle 
 of the plain on the top of the mountain we had ascended, 
 was a sheet of water which we took to be Loch Achill. 
 Two or three wild fowl swimming on its surface were the 
 only living things in sight. The peaks around shut it out 
 from all view of the world ; a single decayed tree leaned 
 over it from a mossy rock, and gave the whole scene an 
 air of the most desolate wildness. I forget the name of the 
 lake ; but we learned afterwards that the Highlanders con 
 sider it the abode of the fairies, or " men of peace," and that it 
 is still superstitiously shunned by them after nightfall. 
 
 From the next mountain we saw Loch Achill and Loch 
 Katrine below, but a wet and weary descent had yet to be 
 made. I was about throwing off my knapsack on a rock, 
 to take a sketch of Loch Katrine, which appeared very 
 beautiful from this point, when we discerned a cavalcade of 
 ponies winding along the path from Inversnaid to the head 
 of the lake, and hastened down to take the boat when 
 they should arrive. Our haste turned out to be unnecessary, 
 
52 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 however, for they had to wait for their luggage, which was 
 long in coming. Two boatmen then offered to take us for 
 two shillings and sixpence each, with the privilege of stop 
 ping at Ellen s Isle ; the regular fare being two shillings 
 We got in, when, after exchanging a few words in Gaelic, 
 one of them called to the travellers, of whom there were 
 a number, to come and take passage at two shillings then 
 at one and sixpence, and finally concluded by requesting 
 them all to step on board the shilling boat ! At length, 
 having secured nine at this reduced price, we pushed off ; 
 one of the passengers took the helm, and the boat glided 
 merrily over the clear water. 
 
 It appears there is some opposition among the boatmen 
 this summer, which is all the better for travellers. They are 
 a bold race, and still preserve many of the characteristics 
 of the clan from which they sprung. One of ours, who had 
 a chieftain-like look, was a MacGregor, related to Rob Hoy. 
 The fourth descendant in a direct line, now inhabits the 
 Rob Roy mansion, at Glengyle, a valley at the head of the 
 lake. A small steamboat was put upon Loch Katrine a 
 short time ago, but the boatmen, jealous of this new invasion 
 of their privilege, one night towed her out to the middle of 
 the lake and there sunk her. 
 
 Near the point of Brianchoil is a very small island with a 
 few trees upon it, of which the boatman related a story that 
 was new to mo. He said an eccentric individual, many 
 years ago, built his house upon it but it was soon beaten 
 down by the winds and waves. Having built it up with 
 like fortune several times, he at last desisted, saying, 
 "bought wisdom was the best ;" since when it has been call 
 
THE BOATMEN OF LOCH KATRINE. 53 
 
 ed the Island of Wisdom. On the shore below, the boat 
 man showed us his cottage. The whole family were out at 
 the door to witness our progress ; he hoisted a flag, and when 
 we came opposite, they exchanged shouts in Gaelic. As 
 our men resumed their oars again, we assisted in giving three 
 cheers, which made all the echoes of Benvenue ring, 
 Some one observed his dog, looking after us from a project 
 ing rock, when he called out to him, " go home, you brute !" 
 We asked him why he did not speak Gaelic also to his dog. 
 " Very few dogs, indeed," said he, " understand Gaelic, but 
 they all understand English. And we therefore all use 
 English when speaking to our dogs ; indeed, I know some 
 persons, who know nothing of English, that speak it to 
 their dogs !" 
 
 They then sang, in a rude manner, a Gaelic song. The 
 only word I could distinguish was Inch Caillach, the burying 
 place of Clan Alpine. They told us it was the answer of a 
 Highland girl to a foreign lord, who wished to make her his 
 bride. Perhaps, like the American Indian, she would not 
 leave the graves of her fathers. As we drew near the east 
 ern end of the lake, the scenery became far more beautiful. 
 The Trosachs opened before us, Ben Ledi looked down over 
 the bare forehead of Ben An, and, as we turned a rocky 
 point, Ellen s Isle rose up in front. It is a beautiful little 
 turquoise in the silver setting of Loch Katrine. The north 
 ern side alone is accessible, all the others being rocky and 
 perpendicular, and thickly grown with trees. We rounded 
 the island to the little bay, bordered by the silver strand, 
 above which is the rock from which Fitz-James wound his 
 horn, and shot under an ancient oak which flung its long 
 
54 VIKWS A.-FOOT. 
 
 gray arms over the water. Here we found a flight of rocky 
 steps, leadirig to the top, where stood the bower erected by 
 Lady Willoughby D Eresby, to correspond with Scott s 
 description. Two or three blackened beams are all that 
 remain of it, having been burned down some years ago by 
 the carelessness of a traveller. 
 
 The mountains stand all around, like giants, to " sentinel 
 this enchanted land." On leaving the island, we saw the 
 Goblin s Cave, in the side of Benvenue, called by the Gaels, 
 " Coir-nan-Uriskin." Near it is Beal-nam-bo, the pass of 
 cattle, overhung with gray weeping birch trees. 
 
 Here the boatmen stopped to let us hear the fine echo, 
 and the names of " Rob Roy," and " Roderick Dim," were 
 sent back to us nearly as loud as they were given. The de 
 scription of Scott is wonderfully exact, though the forest that 
 feathered over the sides of Benvenue has since been cut 
 down and sold by the Duke of Montrose. When we reached 
 the end of the lake it commenced raining, and we hastened 
 on in the twilight through the pass of Beal-an-Duine, scarce 
 ly taking time to glance at the scenery, till Loch Achray 
 appeared through the trees, and on its banks the ivy-grown 
 front of the inn of Archeancrochan, with its unpronounce- 
 aole name. 
 
CHAPTER V, 
 
 THE BURNS FESTIVAL. 
 
 Morning on Loch Katrine Walk to Stirling Out-door Life The Burns Festiril 
 Preparations-^Journey to Ayr The " Twa Brigs "The Streets of Ayr Scotch 
 Beggars An Incident The Burns Cottage Alloway Kirk English Exclusiveness 
 The Sister and Sons of Burns Lord Egiintoun Professor Wilson The Proces 
 sionPerformance of Tarn O Shanter The Burns Monument Speech of Eobert 
 Burns An Anecdote of the Poet Crowd at the Station Keturn to Glasgow. 
 
 WE passed a glorious summer morning on the banks of Loch 
 Katrine. The air was pure, fresh and balmy, and the warm 
 sunshine glowed upon forest and lake, upon dark crag and 
 purple mountain-top. The lake was a scene in fairy-land. 
 Returning over the rugged battle-plain in the jaws of the 
 Trosachs, we passed the wild, lonely valley of Glenfinlas 
 and Lanric Mead, at the head of Loch Venn a char, rounding 
 the foot of Ben Ledi to Coilantogle Ford. We saw the deso 
 late hills of Uam-var, over which the stag fled from his lair 
 in Glenartney, and keeping on through Callander, stopped 
 for the night at a little inn on the banks of the Teith. The 
 next day we walked through Doune, over the lowlands to 
 Stirling, where we arrived at noon. Crossing Allan Water 
 
5tf VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and the Forth, we climbed Stirling Castle and looked on the 
 purple peaks of the Ochill Mountains, the far Grampians, 
 and the battle-fields of Bannockburn and Sheriff Muir. We 
 were favored with pleasant weather during the whole of 
 this journey, and found that our expenses did not exceed 
 the moderate estimate we had made. In the neat little 
 country inns, we readily procured lodgings for a shilling, 
 while bread, butter, cheese and ham, purchased at the 
 baker s and grocer s, furnished us with the material for our 
 roadside meals. I shall long remember the breakfast we 
 made, sitting in the grass at the foot of Doune Castle, on 
 the banks of the swift Teith, whose clear water filled our 
 cups. At Stirling, we took the coach to Falkirk the same 
 afternoon, and thence proceeded by railroad to Glasgow, in 
 order that we might attend the Burns Festival at Ayr, on 
 the following day, the 6th of August. Our German com 
 panion, feeling little interest in the memory of the poet- 
 ploughman, parted from us and took the steamer to Edin 
 burgh, with the hope of meeting us somewhere on the road 
 to London. 
 
 The 6th of August, 1844, was a great day for Scotland 
 the assembling of all classes to do honor to the memory of 
 her peasant-bard. And right fitting was it, too, that such a 
 meeting should be held on the banks of the Doon, the 
 stream of which he has sung so sweetly, within sight of the 
 cot where he was born, the beautiful monument erected by 
 his countrymen, and more than all, beside " Alloway s witch- 
 haunted wall !" One would think old Albyri would rise up 
 at the call, and that from the wild clansmen of the northern 
 hills to the shepherds of the Cheviots, half her honest 
 
tttfi BURNS FESTIVAL. 5 7 
 
 maniy would be there, to render gratitude to the memory 
 of the bard who was one of them, and who gave their wants 
 and their woes immortal utterance. 
 
 For months before had the proposition been made to hold 
 a meeting on the Doon, similar to the Shakspeare Festival 
 on the Avon, and the 10th of July was first appointed for 
 the day, but owing to the necessity of further time for pre 
 paration, it was postponed until the 6th of August. The Earl 
 of Eglintoun was chosen Chairman, and Professor Wilson 
 Vice-Chairman ; in addition to this, all the most eminent 
 British authors were invited to attend. A pavilion, capable 
 of containing two thousand persons, had been erected near 
 the monument, in a large field, which* was thrown open to 
 the public. 
 
 When we arose at Glasgow it was raining, and I feared 
 that the weather might dampen somewhat the pleasures of 
 the day, as in the case of the celebrated tournament, at 
 Eglintoun Castle. We reached the station in time for the 
 first train, and sped in the face of the wind over the plains 
 of Ayrshire, which, under such a gloomy sky, looked most 
 desolate. We ran some distance along the coast, having a 
 view of the Hills of Arran, and reached Ayr about nine 
 o clock. We came first to the New Bridge, which had a 
 triumphal arch in the middle, and the lines, from the " Twa 
 Brigs of Ayr :" 
 
 "Will your poor narrow foot-path of a street, 
 Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet, 
 Your ruin d, formless bulk o stane and lime, 
 Compare wi bonnie brigs o modern time? 
 3* 
 
> VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 While on the arch of the " old brig " was the reply 
 " I ll be a brig when ye re a shapeless stane." 
 
 As we advanced into the town, the decorations became 
 more frequent. The streets were crowded with people car 
 rying banners and wreaths, many of the houses were adorned 
 with green boughs, and the vessels in the harbor hung out 
 all their flags. We saw the Wallace Tower, a high Gothic 
 building, having in front a statue of Wallace leaning on his 
 sword, by Thorn, a native of Ayr ; and on our way to the 
 green, where the procession was to assemble, passed under 
 the triumphal arch thrown across the street opposite the 
 inn where Tarn O Shanter caroused so long with Souter 
 Johnny. Leaving the companies to form on the long mea 
 dow bordering the shore, we set out for the Doon, three 
 miles distant. Beggars were seated at regular distances 
 along the road, uttering the most dolorous winnings. Both 
 bridges were decorated in the same manner, with miserable 
 looking objects, keeping up, during the whole day, a con 
 tinued lamentation. Persons are prohibited from begging in 
 England and Scotland, but I suppose, this being an extra 
 ordinary day, license was given them as a favor, to beg free. 
 I noticed that the women, wit their usual kindness of heart, 
 bestowed nearly all the alms which these unfortunate objects 
 received. The night before, as I was walking through the 
 streets of Glasgow, a young man of the poorer class, very 
 scantily dressed, stepped up to me and begged me to listen 
 to him for a moment. He spoke hurriedly and agitatedly, 
 begging me, in God s name, to give him something, however 
 little: I gave him what few pence I had with me, when he 
 
THE Bi RNS COTTAGE ALLOWAY KIRK. 59 
 
 grasped my hand with a quick motion, saying, " Sir, you 
 little think how much you have done for me." I was about 
 to inquire more particularly into his situation, but he had 
 disappeared among the crowd. 
 
 We passed the " cairn where the hunters found the mur 
 dered bairn," along a pleasant road to the Burns cottage, 
 where it was spanned by a magnificent triumphal arch of 
 evergreens and flowers. To the disgrace of Scotland, this 
 neat little thatched cot, where Burns passed the first seven 
 years of his life, is now occupied by somebody, who has 
 stuck up a sign over the door, " licensed to retail sjririte, to be 
 drunk on the premises ;" and accordingly the rooms were 
 crowded full of people, all drinking. There was an original 
 portrait of Burns in one room, and in the old-fashioned 
 kitchen we saw the recess where he was born. The hostess 
 looked towards us as if to inquire what we would drink, and 
 I hastened away there was profanity in the thought. But 
 by this time, the bell of Old Alloway, which still hangs in 
 its accustomed place, though the walls only are left, began 
 tolling, and we obeyed the call. The attachment of the 
 people for this bell is so great,, that a short time ago, when 
 it was ordered to be removed, the inhabitants rose en masse, 
 and prevented it. The ruin, which is close by the road, 
 stands in the middle of the church-yard, and the first thing 
 I saw, on going in the gate, was the tomb of the father of 
 Burns. I looked in the old window, but the interior was 
 filled with rank weeds, and overshadowed by a young tree, 
 which had grown nearly to the eaves. 
 
 The crowd was now fast gathering in the large field, in 
 the midst of which the pavilion was situated. We went 
 
60 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 down by the beautiful monument to Burns, to the " Auld 
 Brig o Doon," which was spanned by an arch of evergreens, 
 containing a representation of Tarn O Shanter and his grey 
 mare, pursued by the witches. It had been arranged that 
 the procession was to pass over the old and new bridges- 
 and from thence by a temporary bridge over the hedge into 
 the field. At this latter place a stand was erected for the 
 sons of Burns, the officers of the day, and distinguished 
 guests. Here was a beautiful specimen of English exclusive- 
 ness. The space adjoining the pavilion was fenced around, 
 and admittance denied at first to any, except those who had 
 tickets for the dinner, which, the price being fifteen shillings, 
 entirely prevented the humble laborers, who, more than all, 
 should participate on the occasion, from witnessing the 
 review of the procession by the sons of Burns, and hearing 
 the eloquent speeches of Professor Wilson and Lord Eglin- 
 toun. Thus, of the many thousands who were in the field, 
 but a few hundred who were crowded between the bridge 
 and the railing around the pavilion, enjoyed the interesting 
 spectacle. By good fortune, I obtained a station where I 
 had an excellent view of the scene. The sons of Burns 
 were in the middle of the platform, with Eglintoun on the 
 right, and Wilson on the left. Mrs. Begg, sister of the 
 Poet, with her daughters, stood by the Countess of Eglin 
 toun. She was a plain, benevolent looking woman, dressed 
 in black, and appearing still active and vigorous, though she 
 is upwards of eighty years old. Slis bears some likeness, 
 especially in the large, dark, lustrous eye, to the Poet. 
 Robert Burns, the eldest son, appeared to me to have ft 
 strong resemblance to his father, and it is said he is the 
 
THE PROCESSION. 61 
 
 one who remembers his face. He has for a long time had 
 an office under Government, in London. The others have 
 but lately returned from a residence of twenty years in 
 India. Among other notable characters on the stand were 
 Alison, the historian, who is now Sheriff of Lanark, and 
 Mrs. S C- Hall. Professor Wilson appeared to enter into 
 the spirit of the scene better than any of them. He shout 
 ed and waved his hat, and. with his fine, broad forehead, his 
 long brown locks already mixed with gray, streaming on 
 his shoulders, and that eagle eye glancing over the vast 
 assemblage, seemed a real Christopher North, yet full of the 
 fire and vigor of youth " a gray -haired, happy boy !" 
 
 About half of the procession consisted of lodges of masons, 
 all of whom turned out on the occasion, as Burns was one 
 of the fraternity. I was most interested in several compa 
 nies of shepherds, from the hills, with their crooks and 
 plaids ; a body of archers in Lincoln green, with a handsome 
 chief at their head, and some Highlanders in their most 
 picturesque of costumes As one of the companies, which 
 carried a mammoth thistle in a box, came near the platform, 
 Wilson snatched a branch, regardless of the pricks, and 
 placed it on his coat. After this pageant, which could not 
 have been much less than three miles long, had passed, a 
 band was stationed on the platform in the centre of the field, 
 around which the procession formed in a circle, and the 
 whole company sang, " Ye Banks and Braes o Bonnie Doon." 
 Just at this time, a person dressed to represent Tarn O Shan. 
 ter, mounted on a gray mare, issued from a field near the 
 Burns Monument and rode along towards Alloway Kirk, 
 from which, when he approached it, a whole legion of 
 
62 VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 witches sallied out and commenced a hot pursuit. They 
 turned back, however, at the keystone of the bridge, the 
 witch with the " cutty sark" holding up in triumph the 
 abstracted tail of Maggie Soon after this the company 
 entered the pavilion, and the thousands outside were enter 
 tained, as an especial favor, by the band of the S7th Regi 
 ment, while from the many liquor booths around the field 
 they could enjoy themselves in a grosser way. 
 
 We went up to the Monument, which was of more par 
 ticular interest to us, from the relics within, but admission 
 was denied to all. Many persons were collected around the 
 gate, some of whom, having come from a great distance, 
 were anxious to see it ; but the keeper only said, such were 
 the orders and he could not disobey them. Among the 
 crowd, a grandson of the original Tarn O Shanter was shown 
 to us He was a raw-looking boy of nineteen or twenty, 
 wearing a shepherd s cap and jacket, and muttered his disap 
 probation very decidedly, at not being able to visit the 
 Monument. 
 
 There were one or two showers during the day, and the 
 sky, all the time, was dark and lowering, which was unfavor 
 able for the celebration , but all were glad enough that the 
 rain kept aloof till the ceremonies were nearly over. The 
 speeches delivered at the dinner, which appeared in the 
 papers next morning, are undoubtedly very eloquent. I 
 noticed in the remarks of Robert Burns, in reply to Profes 
 sor Wilson, an acknowledgment which the other speakers 
 forgot. He said, " The Sons of Burns have grateful hearts, 
 and to the last hour of their existence, they will remember 
 the honor that has been paid them this day, by the noble, 
 
ANECDOTE OF BURNS. 63 
 
 the lovely and the talented, of their native land by men of 
 genius and kindred spirit from our sister land and lastly, 
 they owe their thanks to the inhabitants of the far distant 
 West, the country of a great, free, and kindred people/ 
 (loud cheers.) In connexion with this subject, I saw an 
 anecdote of the poet which is not generally known. During 
 his connexion with the Kxcisc, he was one day at a party, 
 where the health of Pitt, then minister, was proposed, as 
 " his master and theirs." He immediately turned down his 
 glass and said, " I will give you the health of a far greater 
 and better man GKOR<JK WASHINGTON !" 
 
 We left the field early and went back through the muddy 
 streets of Ayr. The street before the railway office was 
 crowded, and there was so dense a mass of people on the 
 steps, that it scorned almost impossible to get near. Seeing 
 no other chance, I managed to take my stand on the lowest 
 steps where the pressure of the crowd behind, and the 
 working of the throng on the steps, raised me off my feet, 
 and in about a quarter of an hour carried me, compressed 
 into the smallest possible space, up the steps to the door, 
 where the crowd burst in by fits, like water rushing out of 
 a bottle We esteemed ourselves fortunate in getting room 
 to stand in an open car, where, after a two hours ride 
 through the wiiid and pelting rain, we arrived at Glasgow. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OVER THE BORDER FROM EDINBURGH TO LONDON. 
 
 RMe to Edinburgh The Monumental City Lost and Found Seeing Edinburgh 
 The March Resumed The Muirfoot Hills American Books at Melrose Wading 
 the Tweed Abbotsford The Armory and Library Scott s Study A Prospect" 
 Recovered-Ruins of Melrose Abbey Teviot Dale-Jedburgh Over the Border- 
 Scenery of the Cheviots Appreciative Tourists Shepherds on Chevy Chase The 
 Moorland A Night at Whelpington Knowes Waik to Newcastle Cheap Lodgings 
 The Roman Wall Miners in Distress Passage for London A Meeting The 
 Voyage The Thames at Night London at Dawn. 
 
 WE left Glasgow on the morning after returning from the 
 Burns Festival, taking passage in the open cars for Edin 
 burgh, for six shillings. On leaving the depot, we plunged 
 into the heart of the hill on which Glasgow Cathedral stands, 
 and were whisked through darkness and sulphury smoke 
 to daylight again. The cars bore us past a spur of the 
 Highlands, through a beautiful country where women were 
 at work in the fields, to Linlithgow, the birth-place of Queen 
 Mary. The majestic ruins of its once proud palace stand 
 on a green meadow behind the town. In another hour we 
 were walking through Edinburgh, admiring its palace-like 
 edifices, and stopping every few minutes to gaze up at some 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 05 
 
 lofty monument. Really, thought I, we call Baltimore the 
 " Monumental City" for its two marble columns, and here 
 is Edinburgh with one at every street-corner ! These, too, 
 not in the midst of glaring red buildings, where they seem 
 to have been accidentally dropped, but framed in by lofty 
 granite mansions, whose long vistas make an appropriate 
 background to the picture. 
 
 While intently gazing upon one of these monuments, my 
 friends passed me and were lost in the crowd. All my 
 efforts to find them were vain, and finally giving up the 
 search, I went upon Calton Hill, where I spent two hours in 
 contemplating the noble panorama it commands. A sense of 
 hunger at last recalled me to myself, and I descended to the 
 city to seek for an inn. I had given up all hope of seeing 
 rny friends, and made up my mind to go on alone to London, 
 by the route we had proposed. As I was sauntering along 
 in the crowd, a coarsely-dressed man suddenly accosted me. 
 Your two friends," he said, 4< have sent me out to hunt 
 you. They are at an inn not far from here." ** Are you 
 sure 1 am the right person ?" I asked. " Oh yes," 
 said he, " I knew it as soon as I saw you." I followed him. 
 and, truly enough, found my comrades, installed in a cheer 
 ful tavern, and enjoying a bottle of ale. They had taken 
 it for granted that the man would find me, and were not at 
 all astonished at his success. 
 
 We again looked from Calton Hill on Salisbury Crags and 
 over the Frith of Forth, and then descended to dark old 
 Holyrood, where the memory of lovely Mary lingers like a 
 stray sunbeam in her cold halls, and the fair, boyish face of 
 Eizzio looks down from the canvas on the armor of his 
 
66 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 murderer. We threaded the Canongate and climbed to the 
 Castle ; and finally, after a day and a half s sojourn buckled 
 on our knapsacks and marched out of the Northern Athens. 
 In a short time the tall spire of Dalkeith appeared above 
 the green wood, and we saw to the right, perched on the 
 steep banks of the Esk, the picturesque cottage of Haw- 
 thornden where Drummond once lived in poetic solitude. 
 We made haste to cross before nightfall the dreary waste 
 of Muirfoot Hills, from the highest summit of which we 
 took a last view of Edinburgh Castle and the Salisbury 
 Crags, then blue in the distance Far to the east were the 
 hills of Lammermuir, and the country of Mid-Lothian lay 
 before us. It was all Sroft -\fiml. The inn of Torsonce, 
 beside the Gala Water, was our resting-place for the night. 
 As we approached Galashiels the next morning, where the 
 bed of the silver Gala is nearly emptied by a number of 
 dingy manufactories, the hills opened, disclosing the sweet 
 vale of the Tweed, guarded by the triple peak of the Eil- 
 don, at whose base lay nestled the village of Melrose. 
 
 I stopped at a bookstore to purchase a view of the Abbey, 
 and to my surprise nearly half the works were by Ameri 
 can authors. There were Bryant, Longfellow, Channing, 
 Emerson, Dana, Ware and many others. The bookseller 
 told me he had sold more of Ware s Letters than any other 
 book in his shop, " and also," to use his own words, 4 an 
 immense number of the great Dr. Channing." I have seen 
 English editions of Percival, Willis, Whittier and Mrs. 
 Sigourney, but Bancroft and Prescott are classed among the 
 * standard British historians." 
 
 Crossing the Gala we ascended a hill on the road to Sel 
 
WADING THE TWKED. 67 
 
 kirk, and behold ! the Tweed ran below, and opposite, in 
 the midst of embowering trees planted by the hand of Scott, 
 rose the grey halls of Abbotsford. We went down a lane 
 
 to the banks of the swift stream, but finding no ferry. B 
 
 and I, as the water looked very shallow, thought we might 
 
 save a long walk by wading across F preferred hunting 
 
 for a boat ; we two set out together, with our knapsacks on 
 our backs, and our boots in our hands The current was 
 ice cold and very swift, and as -the bed was covered with 
 loose stones, it required the greatest care to stand upright. 
 Looking at the bottom, through the rapid water, made my 
 head so giddy, that I was forced to stop and shut my eyes ; 
 rny friend, who had firmer nerves, went plunging on to a 
 deeper and swifter part, where the strength of the current 
 made him stagger very unpleasantly. I called to him to 
 return ; but the next thing I saw, he gave a plunge and 
 went down to the shoulder in the cold flood While he was 
 struggling with a frightened expression of face to recover 
 his footing, I leaned on my staff and laughed till I was on 
 the point of falling also. To crown our mortification, F 
 had found a ferry a few yards higher up and was on the 
 opposite shore, watching us wade back again, my friend 
 with dripping clothes and boots full of water. I could not 
 forgive the pretty Scotch damsel who rowed us across, the 
 mischievous lurking smile which told that she too had wit 
 nessed the adventure. 
 
 We found a foot-path on the other side, which led through 
 a young forest to Abbotsford Rude pieces of sculpture, 
 taken from Melrose Abbey, were scattered around the gate, 
 some half buried in the earth and overgrown with weeds 
 
68 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The niches in the walls were filled with pieces of sculpture, 
 and a marble greyhound reposed in the middle of the court 
 yard. We rang the bell in an outer vestibule, ornamented 
 with several pairs of antlers, when a lady appeared, who, 
 from her appearance, I have no doubt was Mrs. Ormand, 
 the " Duenna of Abbotsford," so humorously described by 
 D Arlincourt, in his " Three Kingdoms." She ushered us 
 into the entrance hall, which has a, magnificent ceiling of 
 carved oak, and is lighted by lofty stained windows. An 
 effigy of a knight in armor stood at either end, one holding a 
 huge two-handed sword found on Bosworth Field ; the walls 
 were covered with helmets and breastplates of the olden 
 time. 
 
 Among the curiosities in the Armory are Napoleon s 
 pistols, the blunderbuss of Hofer, Rob Roy s purse and gun, 
 and the offering box of Queen Mary. Through the folding 
 doors between the dining-room, drawing-room and library, 
 is a fine vista, terminated by a niche, in which stands Chan- 
 trey s bust of Scott. The ceilings are of carved Scottish 
 oak and the doors of American cedar. Adjoining the library 
 is the study, the walls of which are covered with books ; the 
 doors and windows are double, to render it quiet and undis 
 turbed. Scott s books and inkstand are on the table and 
 his writing-chair stands before it, as if he had left them but 
 a moment before. In a little closet adjoining, where he 
 kept his private manuscripts, are the clothes he last wore, 
 his cane and belt, to which a hammer and a small axe are 
 attached, and his sword. A narrow staircase led from the 
 study to his sleeping room above, by which he could come 
 down at night and work while his family slept. The silence 
 
A "PROSPECT" RECOVERED. 69 
 
 about the place is solemn and breathless, as if it waited to 
 be broken by his returning footstep. I felt an awe in tread 
 ing these lonely halls, like that which impressed me before 
 the grave of Washington a feeling that hallowed the spot, 
 as if there yet lingered a low vibration of the lyre, though 
 the minstrel had departed forever ! 
 
 Plucking a wild rose that grew near the walls, I left 
 Abbotsford, embosomed among the trees, and turned into a 
 green lane that led down to Melrose. We went immediately 
 to the Abbey, in the lower part of the village, near the 
 Tweed. As I approached the gate, the porteress came out, 
 and having scrutinized me rather sharply, asked my name. 
 I told her ; " Well," she added, " there is a prospect here 
 for you." Thinking she alluded to the ruin, I replied : 
 Yes, the view is certainly very fine." " Oh ! I don t mean 
 that," she replied, " a young gentleman left a prospect Here 
 for you!" whereupon she brought out a spy-glass, which I 
 recognized as one that our German comrade had given to me. 
 He had gone on, and hoped to meet us at Jedburgh. 
 
 Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic arclii* 
 lecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the 
 cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the 
 two windows the south and east oriels are of a lightness 
 and grace of execution really surprising. We saw the tomb 
 of Michael Scott, of King Alexander II., and that of the 
 Douglas, marked with a sword. The heart of Bruce is 
 supposed to have been buried beneath the high altar. The 
 chancel is all open to the sky, and rooks build their nests 
 among the wild ivy that climbs over the crumbling arches. 
 One of these came tamely down and perched upon the hand 
 
70 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of our guide. By a winding stair in one of the towers wo 
 mounted to the top of the arch and looked down on the 
 grassy floor. I sat on the broken pillar, which Scott always 
 used for a seat when he visited the Abbey, and read the dis 
 interring of the magic book, in the " Lay of the Last 
 Minstrel." I never comprehended its full beauty until then, 
 and the memory of Melrose will give it a peculiar interest, in 
 the future. When we left, I was willing to say, with the 
 Minstrel : 
 
 " Was never scene eo sad and fair 1" 
 
 After seeing the home and favorite haunt of Scott, we felt 
 a wish to stand by his grave, but we had Ancrum Moor to 
 pass before night, and the Tweed was between us and Dry- 
 burgh Abbey. We did not wish to try another watery 
 adventure, and therefore walked on to the village of Ancrum, 
 where a gate-keeper on the load gave us lodging and good 
 fare, for a moderate price. Many of this class practise this 
 double employment, and the economical traveller, who looks 
 more to comfort than luxury, will not fail to patronize them. 
 
 Next morning we took a foot-path over the hills to Jed- 
 burgh. From the summit there was a lovely view of the 
 valley of the Teviot, with the lue Cheviots in the distance, 
 I thought of Pringle s beautiful farewell : 
 
 " Our native land, our native 
 
 A long, a last adieu, 
 Farewell to bonny Teviot-dale, 
 And Cheviot s mountains blue!" 
 
 The poet was born in the valley below, and one that looks 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 7 I 
 
 upon its beauty cannot wonder how his heart clung to the 
 scenes he was leaving. We saw Jedburgh and its majestic 
 old Abbey, and ascended the valley of the Jed towards the 
 Cheviots. The hills, covered with woods of a luxuriant and 
 even gorgeous beauty of foliage, shut out this lovely glen 
 completely from the world. I found myself continually 
 coveting the lonely dwellings that were perched on the 
 rocky heights, or nestled, like fairy pavilions, in the laps 
 of the groves. These forests formerly furnished the wood 
 for the celebrated Jedwood axe, used in the border fo 
 rays. 
 
 As we continued ascending, the prospect behind us widen 
 ed, until we reached the summit of the Carter Fell, whence 
 there is a view of great extent and beauty. The Eildon 
 Hills, though twenty-five miles distant, seemed in the fore 
 ground of the picture. With a glass, Edinburgh Castle 
 might be seen over the dim outline of the Muirfoot Hills. 
 After crossing the border, we passed the scene of the 
 encounter between Percy and Douglass, celebrated in 
 " Chevy Chase," and at the lonely inn of Whitelee, in the 
 valley below, took up our quarters for the night. 
 
 Travellers have described the Cheviots as being bleak 
 and uninteresting. Although they are bare and brown, to 
 me the scenery was of a character of beauty entirely original 
 They are not rugged and broken like the Highlands, but lift 
 their round backs gracefully from the plain, while the mor 
 distant ranges are clad in many an airy hue. Willis quaintly 
 and truly remarks, that travellers only tell you the picture 
 produced in their own brain by what they see, otherwise the 
 world would be like a pawnbroker s shop, where each 
 
72 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 traveller wears the cast-off clothes of others. Therefore let 
 no one, of a gloomy temperament, journeying over the 
 Cheviots in dull November, arraign me for having falsely 
 praised their beauty 
 
 I was somewhat amused with seeing a splendid carriage 
 with footmen and outriders, crossing the mountain, the 
 glorious landscape full in view, and the richly dressed lady 
 within lying fast, asleep ! It is no uncommon^ thing to 
 meet carriages in the Highlands, in which the occupants 
 are comfortably reading, while being whirled through the 
 finest scenery. And apropos of this subject, my German 
 friend related to me an incident. His brother was travelling 
 on the Rhine, and when in the midst of the grandest scenes, 
 met a carriage containing an English gentleman and lady, 
 both asleep, while on the seat behind was stationed an 
 artist, sketching away with all his might. He asked the 
 latter the reason of his industry, when he answered, " Oh ! 
 my lord wishes to see every night what he has passed 
 during the day, and so I sketch as we go along ! " 
 
 The hills, particularly on the English side, are covered 
 with flocks of sheep, and lazy shepherds lay basking in the 
 sun, among the purple heather, with their shaggy black 
 dogs beside them. On many of the hills are landmarks, 
 by which, when the snow has covered all the tracks, they 
 can direct their way. After walking many miles through 
 green valleys, down which flowed the Red Water, its very 
 name telling of the conflicts which had crimsoned its tide, 
 we came to the moors, and ten miles of blacker, drearier 
 waste I never saw. Before entering them we passed the 
 pretty little village of Otterbu-rn, near the scene of the 
 
THE INN AT \V HELP1NGTON KNOWES. 13 
 
 battle. I brought away a wild flower that grew on soil 
 enriched by the blood of the Percys. On the village inn is 
 their ancient coat of arms, a lion rampant on a field of gold, 
 with the motto, " Esperance en Dieu" 
 
 Scarcely a house or a tree enlivened the black waste, 
 and even the road was marked on each side by high poles, 
 to direct the traveller in winter. We were glad when at 
 length the green fields came again in sight, and the little 
 village of Whelpington Knowes, with its old ivy -grown 
 church tower, welcomed us after the lonely walk. 
 
 At the only inn in the place, I found it quite impossible 
 to understand the servants, who spoke the rugged North 
 umbrian dialect. The landlady, who spoke tolerable 
 English, came to our assistance, and received us with more 
 cordiality than our knapsacks and dusty garments led us to 
 expect. She quartered us for the night in an out-building, 
 which appeared to be a kind of hunting lodge. It was a single 
 room, with two beds, fowling-pieces and shot-belts hanging 
 on the walls, and some stuffed grouse on the top of a quaint 
 old wardrobe. The evening was cool, and the unintelligible 
 servants made a cheerful fire on the hearth. Our supper 
 was served in a room of the inn, which was occupied by 
 a young lady, whose appearance contrasted strangely with 
 her situation. She was pale, but handsome, dressed with 
 perfect taste, and the few words she spoke gave evidence of 
 thorough refinement and cultivation. Her face was very 
 sad, her manner subdued, yet with a quiet dignity which 
 forced the landlady, who made very unceremonious use of 
 her room, to treat her with respect. A shelf of classic 
 authors, and some flower-pots in the window, were the 
 
 4 
 
74 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tokens of her tastes. Here is a romance, if not a tragedy, 1 
 thought, but I did not venture to ask any questions. 
 
 As one specimen of the intelligence of this part of Eng 
 land, we saw a board conspicuously posted at the com 
 mencement of a private road, declaring that " all persons 
 travelling this way will be persecuted" As the road led to 
 a church, however, there may have been a design in the 
 expression. 
 
 On the fifth day after leaving Edinburgh, we reached a hill 
 overlooking the valley of the Tyne and the German Ocean, 
 as sunset was reddening in the west. A cloud of coal-smoke 
 made us aware of the vicinity of Newcastle. On the summit 
 of the hill a large cattle fair was being held, and crowds of 
 people were gathered in and around a camp of gaudily 
 decorated tents. Fires were kindled here and there, and 
 drinking, carousing, and horse-racing, were flourishing in full 
 vigor. After entering the town, we applied to a policeman 
 to conduct us to a cheap lodging-place. He readily took us 
 to a house in a dingy street near the river, inhabited by a 
 poor family, who furnished us with beds (probably their 
 own), and cooked us frugal meals, during the two days that 
 we were obliged to await the departure of a steamer for 
 London. 
 
 We set out the next morning to hunt the Roman Wall. 
 Passing the fine buildings in the centre of the city and the 
 lofty monumeirt to Earl Grey, we went towards the western 
 gate and soon came to the ruins of a building, about whose 
 origin there could be no doubt. It stood there, blackened 
 by the rust of ages, a remnant of power passed away. 
 There was no mistaking the massive round tower, with its 
 
DISTRESS AMONG THE MINERS. 7 5 
 
 projecting ornaments, such as are often seen in the ruder 
 works of the Romans. On each side a fragment of wall 
 remained standing, and there appeared to be a chamber 
 in the interior, which was choked up with rubbish. There 
 is another tower, much higher, in a public square in another 
 part of the city, a portion of which is fitted up as a dwell 
 ing for the family which takes care of it ; but there was 
 such a ridiculous contrast between the ivy-grown top, and 
 the handsome modern windows and doors of the lower story, 
 that it did not impress me half as much as the first, with 
 all its neglect. These are the farthest limits of that power 
 whose mighty works I hope hereafter to view at the seat of 
 her grandeur and glory. 
 
 I witnessed a scene at Newcastle that cannot soon be 
 forgotten ; as it showed more plainly than I had before an 
 opportunity of observing, the state to which the laboring 
 classes of England are reduced. Hearing singing in the 
 street under my window one morning, I looked out and 
 saw a body of men, apparently of the lower class, but 
 decent and sober-looking, who were singing in a rude and 
 plaintive strain some ballad, tne purport of which I could 
 not understand. On making inquiry, I discovered it was 
 part of a body of miners, who, about eighteen weeks before, 
 in consequence of not being able to support their families 
 with the small pittance allowed them, had struck for higher 
 wages. This their employers refused to give them, and 
 sent to Wales, where they obtained workmen at the former 
 price. The houses these laborers had occupied were all 
 taken from them, and for eighteen weeks they had had no 
 other means of subsistence than the casual charity given 
 
76 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 them for singing the story of their wrongs. It made my 
 blood boil to hear those tones, wrung from the heart of 
 poverty by the hand of tyranny. The ignorance, permitted 
 by the government, causes an unheard amount of misery 
 and degradation. We heard afterwards in the streets, 
 another company who played on musical instruments. 
 Beneath the proud swell of England s martial airs, there 
 sounded to my ears a tone whose gathering murmur will 
 make itself heard ere long by the dull ears of Power. 
 
 At last, at the appointed time, we found ourselves on 
 board the " London Merchant," in the muddy Tyne, waiting 
 for the tide to rise high enough to permit us to descend 
 the river. There is great competition among the steam 
 boats this summer, and the price of passage to London is 
 reduced to five and ten shillings. The second cabin, how 
 ever, is a place of tolerable comfort, and as the steward had 
 promised to keep berths for us, we engaged passage. On 
 going below, the first person we met was our German com 
 rade, who had preceded us all the way from Edinburgh. It 
 was a joyous meeting on both sides. Following the wind 
 ings of the narrow river, we passed Sunderland and Tyne- 
 mouth, where it expands into the German Ocean. The 
 water was barely stirred by a gentle wind, and little re 
 sembled the stormy sea I expected to find. We glided over 
 the smooth surface, watching the blue line of the distant 
 shore till dark, when I went below expecting to enjoy a 
 few hours oblivion. But the faithless steward had given 
 up the promised berth to another, and it was only with 
 difficulty that I secured a seat by the cabin table, where 1 
 dozed half the night with my head on my arms. It grew at 
 
LONDON AT DAWN. 77 
 
 fast *ou close and wearisome ; I went up on deck and lay 
 down on the windlass, taking care to balance myself well 
 before going to sleep. The earliest light of dawn awoke me 
 to a consciousness of damp clothes and bruised limbs. We 
 were in sight of the low shore the whole day, sometimes 
 seeing the dim outline of a church, or a group of trees over 
 the downs or flat beds of sand, which border the eastern 
 coast of England. About dark, the red light of the Nore 
 was seen, and we hoped before many hours to be in London. 
 The lights of Gravesend were passed, but about ten o clock, 
 as we entered the narrow channel of the Thames, we struck 
 another steamboat in the darkness, and were obliged to cast 
 anchor for some time. 
 
 When I went, on deck in the gray light of morning 
 again, we were gliding up a narrow, muddy river, between 
 rows of gloomy buildings, with many vessels lying at 
 anchor. As the day brightened, we turned a point, and 
 right before me lay a vast crowd of vessels, and in the 
 distance, above the wilderness of buildings, stood a dim, 
 gigantic dome in the sky ; what a bound my heart gave at 
 the sight ! And the tall pillar that stood near it I did 
 not need a second glance to recognize the Monument. I 
 knew the majestic bridge that spanned the river above ; 
 but on the right bank a cluster of massive buildings, 
 crowned with many a turret, attracted my eye. A crowd 
 of old associations pressed bewilderingly upon the mind, to 
 see standing there, grim and dark with many a bloody 
 page of England s history the Tower of London ! The 
 morning sky was as yet but faintly obscured by the coal- 
 smoke, and in the misty light of coming sunrise, all objects 
 
78 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 seemed grander than their wont. In spite of the thrilling 
 interest of the scene, I could not help recalling- Byron s 
 ludicrous but most, expressive description. 
 
 " A mighty mass of brick and smoke and shipping, 
 
 Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
 Can reach ; with here and there a sail just skipping 
 
 In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
 Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping 
 
 On tip-toe through their sea-coal canopy ; 
 A huge dun cupola, like a fool s-cap crown 
 OB a fool s head, and there is London iowm." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A WEEK IN LO NDON. 
 
 Entering London Cheap Lodgings and Bad Company The Thoroughfares 8t, 
 Paul s View from the Dome St. James s Park "Westminster Abbey Poet a 
 Corner Tombs of Sovereigns Hall of the Bath The Thames Tunnel The lowas 
 again The Parks Crime and Misery in London The End of our Sojourn Cost 
 of the Tour through Scotland. 
 
 LONDON, Aug. 22, 1844. 
 
 IN the course of time we came to anchor in the stream ; 
 skiffs from the shore pulled alongside, and after some little 
 quarrelling, we were safely deposited in one, with a party 
 who desired to be landed at the Tower Stairs. The dark 
 walls frowned above us as we mounted from the water and 
 passed into an open square on the outside of the moat. 
 The laborers were about commencing work, the fashionable 
 day having just closed, but there was still noise and bustles 
 enough in the streets, particularly when we reached White- 
 chapel, part of the great thoroughfare, extending through 
 the heart of London to Westminster Abbey and the Parlia 
 ment buildings. Our first care was to find a resting-place, 
 ftnd we had not wandered far along Whitechapel before the 
 
80 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 signs " Chop-House," " Lodgings," met our eye. We select 
 ed one of the most decent of these places, where we 
 obtained bare rooms and questionable beds for a shilling a 
 day, while the public room supplied us with a chop and 
 potatoes for sixpence. Our company, I am afraid, was not 
 the most respectable which London can boast of actors of 
 low grade, from low theatres ; dissolute shop boys, sailors 
 and cads, and women whose roses were not the natural bloom 
 of English air. We, did not cultivate their acquaintance, 
 but became so disgusted after a day or two that we shifted 
 our quarters to the Aldgate Coffee House, where the terms 
 were equally cheap and the society a very little better. 
 
 After breakfast, on the first day, we set out for a walk 
 through London. Entering the main artery of this mighty 
 city, we passed on through Aldgate and Cornhill, to St. 
 Paul s, with still increasing winder. Further on, through 
 Fleet street and the Strand what a world ! Here come- 
 the ever-thronging, ever-rolling waves of life, pressing and 
 whirling on in their tumultuous career. Here day and night 
 pours the stream of human beings, seeming, amid the roar 
 and din and clatter of the passing vehicles, like the tide of 
 some great combat. How lonely it makes one to stand still 
 and feel that of all the mighty throng which divides itself 
 around him, not a being knows or cares for him ! What 
 knows he too of the thousands who pass him by ! How 
 many who bear the impress of godlike virtue, or hide 
 beneath a goodly countenance a heart black with crime J 
 How many fiery spirits, all glowing with hope for the yet 
 unclouded future, or brooding over a darkened and desolate 
 past in the agony of despair ! There is a sublimity in thi 
 
81 
 
 human Niagara that makes one look on his own race with 
 something of awe. 
 
 St. Paul s is on a scale of grandeur excelling every thing 
 I have yet seen. The dome seems to stand in the sky, as 
 you look up to it ; the distance from which you view it, 
 combined with the atmosphere of London, gives it a dim, 
 shadowy appearance, that startles one with its immensity. 
 The roof from which the dome springs is itself as high as the 
 spires of most other churches ; blackened for two hundred 
 years with the coal-smoke of London, it stands like a relic 
 of the giant architecture of the early world. The interior 
 is what one would expect to behold, after viewing the out 
 side. A maze of grand arches on every side, encompasses 
 the dome, at which you gaze up as at the sky ; and from 
 every pillar and wall look down the marble forms of the 
 dead. There is scarcely a vacant niche left in all this 
 mighty hall, so many are the statues that meet one on every 
 side. With the exception of John Howard, Sir Astley 
 Cooper and Wren, whose monument is the church itself* 
 they are all to military men I thought if they had all been 
 removed except Howard s, it would better have suited such 
 a temple, and the great soul it commemorated. 
 
 I never was more impressed with the grandeur of human 
 invention, than when ascending the dome. I could with 
 difficulty conceive the means by which such a mighty edi 
 fice had been lifted into the air. The small frame of Sir 
 Christopher Wren must have contained a mind capable of 
 vast conceptions. The dome is like the summit of a moun 
 tain ; so wide is the prospect, and so great the pile upon 
 which you stand, London lay beneath us, like an a- 
 
 4* 
 
82 VIEWS A- FOOT. 
 
 with the black insects swarming to and fro in their long 
 avenues, the sound of their employments coming up like the 
 roar of the sea. A cloud of coal-smoke hung over it, 
 through which many a pointed spire was thrust up j some 
 times the wind would blow it aside for a moment, and the 
 thousands of red roofs would shine out clearer. The bridg 
 ed Thames, covered with craft of all sizes, wound beneath 
 us like a ringed and spotted serpent. 
 
 It was a relief to get into St. James s Park, among the 
 trees and flowers again. Here beautiful winding walks led 
 around little lakes, in which were hundreds of water-fowl, 
 swimming Groups of merry children were sporting on the 
 green lawn, enjoying their privilege of roaming every where 
 at will, while the older bipeds were confined to the regular 
 walks. At the western end stood Buckingham Palace, look 
 ing over the trees towards St. Paul s ; and through the 
 grove on the eminence above, the towers of St. James s 
 could be seen. But there was a dim building with two 
 lofty square towers, decorated with a profusion of pointed 
 Gothic pinnacles, that I looked at with more interest than 
 these appendages of royalty. I could not linger long in 
 its vicinity, but going back again by the Horse Guards, took 
 the road to Westminster Abbey. 
 
 We approached by the general entrance, Poet s Corner. 
 I hardly stopped to look at the elaborate exterior of Henry 
 VII. s Chapel, but passed on to the door. On entering, 
 the first thing that met my eyes were the words, " OH RARE 
 BEN JONSON," under his bust. Near by stood the monu 
 ments of Spenser and Gay, and a few paces further looked 
 down the sublime countenance of Milton. Never was a spot 
 
POET S CORNER. 83 
 
 so full of intense interest. The light was just dim enough 
 to give it a solemn, religious air, making the marble forms 
 ^f poets and philosophers so shadowy and impressive, that 
 \ felt as if standing in their living presence. Every step 
 mlled up some mind linked with the associations of my 
 childhood. There was the gentle feminine countenance of 
 Thomson, and the majestic head of Dryden ; Addison with 
 his classic features, and Gray, full of the fire of lofty 
 thought. In another chamber, I paused long before the 
 tablet to Shakspeare ; and while looking at the monument 
 of Garrick, started to find that I stood upon his grave. 
 What a glorious galaxy of genius is here collected what a 
 constellation of stars whose light is immortal ! The mind is 
 fettered by their spirit, everything is forgotten but the 
 mighty dead, who still " rule us from their urns." 
 
 The side-chapels are filled with tombs of knightly fami 
 lies, the husband and wife lying on their backs on the tombs, 
 with their hands clasped, while their children, about the size 
 of dolls, are kneeling around. Numberless are the Barons 
 and Earls and Dukes, whose grim effigies stare from their 
 tombs. In opposite chapels are the tombs of Mary and 
 Elizabeth, and near the former that of Darnley. After 
 having visited many of the scenes of her life, it was with no 
 ordinary emotion that I stood by the sepulchre of Mary. 
 How differently one looks upon it and upon that of the 
 proud Elizabeth ! 
 
 We descended to the Chapel of Edward the Confessor, 
 within the splendid shrine of which his ashes repose. Here 
 the chair on which the English monarchs have been crowned 
 for several hundred years was exhibited. Under the seat 
 
84 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 is the stone, brought from the Abbey of Scone, whereon the 
 Kings of Scotland were crowned. The chair is of oak, 
 carved and hacked over with names, and on the bottom some 
 one has recorded his name with the fact that he once slept 
 in it. We sat down and rested in it without ceremony. 
 Near this is the hall where the Knights of the order of the Bath 
 met. Over each seat their dusty banners are still hanging, 
 each with its crest, and their armor is rusting upon the wall. 
 It resembled a banqueting hall of the olden time, where the 
 knights had left their seats for a moment vacant. Entering 
 the nave, we were lost in the wilderness of sculpture. Here 
 stood the forms of Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan and Watts, 
 from the chisels of Chantry, Bacon and Westmacott. 
 Further down were Sir Isaac Newton and Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller opposite Andre, and Paoli, the Italian, who died 
 here in exile. How can I convey an idea of the scene ! 
 Notwithstanding all the descriptions I had read, I was totally 
 unprepared for the reality, nor could I have anticipated the 
 hushed and breathless interest with which I paced the dim 
 aisles, gazing, at every step, on the last resting place of some 
 great and familiar name. A place so sacred to all who 
 inherit the English tongue, is worthy of a special pilgrimage 
 across the deep. To those who are unable to visit it, a de 
 scription may be interesting ; but so far does it fall short of 
 the scene itself, that if I thought it would induce a few of 
 our wealthy idlers, or even those who, like myself, must 
 travel with toil and privation, to come hither, I would write 
 till the pen dropped from my hand. 
 
 We walked down the Thames, through the narrow streets 
 of Wapping. Over the mouth of the Tunnel is a large 
 
THE THAiMES TUNNEL. 85 
 
 circular building, with a dome to light the entrance below. 
 Paying the fee of a penny, we descended by a winding 
 staircase to the bottom, which is seventy-three feet below 
 the surface. The carriage-way, still unfinished, will extend 
 further into the city. From the bottom the view of the two 
 arches of the Tunnel, briU antly lighted with gas, is very 
 fine ; it has a much less heavy and gloomy appearance than 
 I expected. As we walked along under the bed of the 
 river, two or three girls at one end began playing on the 
 French horn and bugle, and the echoes, when not sufficient 
 to confuse the melody, were remarkably beautiful. Between 
 the arches of the division separating the two passages, are 
 shops, occupied by venders of fancy articles, views of the 
 Tunnel, engravings, &c. In the middle is a small printing 
 press, where a sheet containing a description of the whole 
 work is printed for those who desire it. As I was no strang 
 er to this art, I requested the boy to let me print one my 
 self, but he had such a bad roller . I did not succeed in get 
 ting a good impression. The air within is somewhat damp, 
 but fresh and agreeably cool, and one can scarcely realize in 
 walking along the light passage, that a river is rolling above 
 his head. The immense solidity and compactness of the 
 structure precludes the danger of accident, each of the sides 
 being arched outwards, so that the heaviest pressure only 
 strengthens the work. It will long remain a noble monu 
 ment of human daring and ingenuity. 
 
 We spent a day in visiting the lung of London, as the 
 two grand parks have been called. From the Strand 
 through Regent Circus, the centre of the fashionable part of 
 the city, we passed to Piccadilly, calling on our way to see 
 
86 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 oui old friends, the lowas. They were at the Egyptian 
 Hall, in connexion with Oatlin s Indian collection. The 
 old braves knew us at once, particularly Blister-Feet, who 
 used often to walk a line on deck with me, at sea. Further 
 along Piccadilly is Wellington s mansion, Apsley House, 
 and nearly opposite it, in the corner of Hyde Park, stands 
 the colossal statue of Achilles, cast from cannon taken at 
 Salamanca and Vittoria. The Park resembles an open com 
 mon, with here and there a grove of trees, intersected by 
 carriage roads. It is like getting into the country again to be 
 out on its broad, green field, with the city seen dimly around 
 through the smoky atmosphere. We walked for a mile or 
 two along the shady avenues and over the lawns, having a 
 view of the princely terraces and gardens on one hand, and 
 the gentle outline of Primrose Hill on the other. Regent ,, 
 Park itself covers a space of nearly four hundred acres ! 
 
 But if London is unsurpassed in splendor, it has also its 
 corresponding share of crime. Notwithstanding the large 
 and efficient body of police, who do much towards the 
 control of vice, one sees enough of degradation and brutality 
 in a short time, to make his heart sick. Even the public 
 thoroughfares are thronged at night with characters of the 
 lowest description, and it is not expedient to go through 
 many of the narrow bye-haunts of the old city in the day 
 time. The police, who are ever on the watch, immediately 
 seize and carry off any offender, but from the statements of 
 persons who have had an opportunity of observing, as well 
 as from my own slight experience, I am convinced that there 
 is an untold amount of concealed misery and crime 
 
 I have now been six days in London, and by making 
 
EXPENSES OF TRAVEL. 87 
 
 good use of my feet and eyes, have managed to become fa 
 miliar with almost every object of interest within its precincts 
 My whole time has been devoted to sight-seeing, and I have 
 neither made a single acquaintance, nor obtained the least 
 insight into the social life of England. Having a plan 
 mapped out for the day, I started from my humble lodgings 
 at the Aldgate Coffee House, where I slept off fatigue for a 
 shilling a night, and walked up Cheapside or down White- 
 chapel, as the case might be, hunting out my way to 
 churches, halls and theatres. In this way, at a trifling 
 expense, I have perhaps seen as much as many who spend 
 here double the time and ten times the money Our whole 
 tour from Liverpool hither, by way of Ireland and Scotland, 
 cost us but twenty-five dollars each ! although, except in one 
 or two cases, we denied ourselves no necessary comfort. 
 This shows that the glorious privilege of looking on the 
 scenes of the old world need not be confined to people of 
 wealth and leisure. It may be enjoyed by all who can 
 occasionally forego a little bodily comfort for the sake of 
 mental and spiritual gain. We leave tins afternoon foi 
 Dover, To-morrow I shall dine in Belgium J 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 
 
 FHngs on Visiting the Continent Imprisonment at Dover Arriral at Ostend-* 
 A Stroll The Streets of Bruges The Cathedral The Belfry and its Chimes 
 A Night on the Canal Ghent A Rainy Ride Scenery of the Meuse Entering 
 Prussia Aix-la-Chapelle The Cathedral The Tomb of Charlemagne The Ca 
 thedral of Cologne Tradition of its Plan The Smells of the Streets, 
 
 ON the Continent at last ! How strangely look the 
 century-old towers, antique monuments, and quaint, narrow 
 streets of the Flemish cities ! It is an agreeable and yet a 
 painful sense of novelty to stand for the first time in the 
 midst of a people whose language and manners are different 
 from one s own The old buildings around, linked with 
 many a stirring association of past history, gratify the 
 glowing anticipations with which one has looked forward 
 to seeing them, and the fancy is busy at work reconciling 
 the real scene with the ideal ; but the want of a communi 
 cation with the living world about, walls one up with a 
 sense of loneliness he could not before have conceived. 
 I envied the children in the streets their childish language. 
 Bidding adieu to our German friend, who took passage 
 
IMPRISONMENT AT DOVER. 89 
 
 direct to Havre, we left London in the afternoon, and sped 
 through the green wooded lawns and vales of England, to 
 Dover, which we reached at sunset, passing by a long 
 tunnel through the lofty Shakspeare Cliff. We had barely 
 time, before it grew dark, to ascend the cliff. The glorious 
 coast view looked still wilder in the gathering twilight, 
 which soon hid from our sight the dim hills of France. On 
 the cliff opposite frowned the massive battlements of the 
 Castle, guarding the town, which lay in a nook of the rocks 
 below. As the Ostend boat was to leave at four in the 
 morning, my cousin aroused us at three, and we felt our 
 way down stairs in the dark. But the landlord was reluc 
 tant to part with us ; we stamped and shouted and rang 
 bells, till the whole house was in an uproar, for the door 
 was double-locked, and the steamboat bell began to sound. 
 At last the scamp could stand it no longer ; we gave a 
 quick utterance to our overflowing wrath, and rushed down 
 to the boat but a second or two before it sailed. 
 
 The water of the Channel was smooth as glass, and as 
 the sun rose, the far chalky cliffs gleamed along the horizon, 
 a belt of fire. I waved a good-bye to Old England and 
 then turned to see the spires of Dunkirk, which were visible 
 in the distance before us. On the low Belgian coast we 
 could see trees and steeples, resembling a mirage over the 
 level surface of the sea ; and at length, about ten o clock, 
 the square tower of Ostend came in sight. The boat passed 
 into a long, muddy basin, in which many unwieldy, 
 red-sailed Dutch craft were lying, and stopped beside a 
 high pier. Here amid the confusion of three languages, an 
 officer came on board and took charge of our passports 
 
90 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and luggage. As we could not get the former for two 01 
 three hours, we did not hurry the passing of the latter, and 
 went on shore quite unencumbered, for a stroll about the 
 city, disregarding the cries of the hackney-coachmen on 
 the pier, " Hotel (V Angleterre," "Hotel des Bams ! " and 
 another who called out in English, "I recommend you 
 to the Royal Hotel, sir ! " 
 
 There is little to be seen in Ostend. We wandered 
 through long rows of plain yellow houses, trying to read the 
 French and Dutch signs, and at last came out on the wall 
 near the sea. A soldier waved us back as we attempted to 
 ascend it, and muttering some unintelligible words, pointed 
 to a narrow street near. Following this out of curiosity, we 
 crossed the moat and found ourselves on the great bathing 
 beach. To get out of the hands of the servants who imme 
 diately surrounded us, we jumped into one of the little 
 wagons and were driven out into the surf. 
 
 To be certain of fulfilling the railroad regulations, we took 
 our seats a quarter of an hour before the time. The dark 
 walls of Ostend soon vanished and we were whirled rapidly 
 over a country perfectly level, but highly fertile and well 
 cultivated. Occasionally there was a ditch or row of trees, 
 but otherwise there was no division between the fields, and 
 the plain stretched unbroken away into the distance. The 
 twenty miles to Bruges we made in forty minutes. The 
 streets of this antique city are narrow and crooked, and the 
 pointed, ornamented gables of the houses, produce a novel 
 impression on one who has been accustomed to the green 
 American forests. Then there was the endless sound of 
 wooden shoes clattering over the rough pavements, and 
 
BRUGES. 91 
 
 people talking in that most unmusical of all languages, 
 Dutch. Walking at random through the streets, we came 
 by chance upon the Cathedral of Notre Dame. I shall long 
 remember my first impression of the scene within. The 
 lofty gothic ceiling arched far above my head and through 
 the stained windows the light came but dimly it was all 
 still, solemn and religious. A few worshippers were kneeling 
 in silence before some of the shrines, and the echo of my 
 tread was like a profaning sound. On every side were pic 
 tures, saints and gilded shrines. A few steps removed one 
 from the bustle and din of the crowd to the stillness and 
 solemnity of the holy retreat. 
 
 We learned from a guide, whom we had engaged because 
 he spoke a few words of English, that there was still a 
 t eckshuyt line on the canals, and that a boat was to leave at 
 ten o clock that night for Ghent. Wishing to try this old 
 Dutch method of travelling, we walked along the Ghent 
 road to the canal, where a moderate sized boat was lying. 
 Our baggage deposited in the plainly furnished cabin, I ran 
 back to Bruges, although it was beginning to grow dark, to 
 get a sight of the belfry ; for Longfellow s lines had been 
 chiming through my head all day : 
 
 "In the market-place of Bruges, stands the belfry old and brown, 
 Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o er the town." 
 
 And having found the square, brown tower in one corner 
 of the open market place, we waited to hear the chimes, 
 which are said to be the finest in Europe. They rang out 
 at last with a clear silvery tone, most beautifully musical 
 indeed. We then returned to the boat in the twilight. We 
 
02 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 were to leave in about an hour, according to the arrange 
 ment, but as yet there was no sound to be heard, and we 
 were the only tenants. However, trusting to Dutch regu 
 larity, we went to sleep in the full confidence of awakening 
 in Ghent. 
 
 I awoke once in the night and saw the dark branches of 
 trees passing before the window, but there was no perceptible 
 sound nor motion the boat glided along like a dream, and 
 , we were awakened next morning by its striking against the 
 pier at Ghent. After paying three francs for the whole 
 night journey, the captain gave us a guide to the railroad 
 station, and as we had nearly an hour before the train left, 
 I went to see the Cathedral of St. Bavon. After leaving 
 Ghent, the road passes through a beautiful country, culti 
 vated like a garden. The Dutch passion for flowers is dis 
 played in the gardens around the cottages ; even every vacant 
 foot of ground along the railway is planted with roses and 
 dahlias. At Ghent, the morning being fair, we took seats in 
 the open cars. About noon it commenced raining and our 
 situation was soon anything but comfortable. My cousin 
 had fortunately a waterproof Indian blanket with him, 
 which he had purchased in the Far West, and by wrapping 
 this around all three of us, we kept partly dry. I was much 
 amused at the plight of a party of young Englishmen, who 
 were in the same car ; one of them held a little parasol 
 which just covered his hat, and sent the water in streams 
 down on his back and shoulders. 
 
 We had a misty view of Liege, through the torrents of 
 rain, and then dashed away into the wild mountain scenery 
 of the Meuse. Steep, rocky hills, covered with pine and 
 
ENTERING PRUSSIA. 93 
 
 crowned with ruined towers, hemmed in the winding and 
 swollen river, and the wet, cloudy sky rested like a canopy 
 on their summits. Instead of threading their mazy defiles, 
 we plunged directly into the mountain s heart, flew over the 
 narrow valley on lofty and light-sprung arches, and went 
 again into the darkness. At Verviers, our baggage was 
 weighed, examined and transferred, with ourselves, to a 
 Prussian train. There was a great deal of disputing on the 
 occasion. A lady, who had a dog in a large willow basket, 
 was not allowed to retain it, nor would they take it as bag 
 gage. The matter was finally compromised by their sending 
 the basket, obliging her to carry the dog, which was none of 
 the smallest, in her arms ! The next station bore the sign 
 of the black eagle, and here we were obliged to give up our 
 passports. Advancing through long ranges of wooded hills, 
 we saw at length, in the dull twilight of a rainy day, the 
 
 
 
 old kingly city of Aix la Chapelle on a plain below us. 
 After a scene at the custom-house, where our baggage was 
 reclaimed with tickets given at Verviers, we drove to the 
 Hotel du Phin, and wliile warming our shivering limbs and 
 drying our damp garments, felt tempted to exclaim with the 
 old Italian author : " O ! holy and miraculous tavern !" 
 
 The Cathedral, with its lofty Gothic tower, was built by 
 the emperor Otho in the tenth century. It seems at present 
 to be undergoing repairs, for a large scaffold shut out the 
 dome. The long hall was dim with incense smoke as we 
 entered, and the organ sounded through the high arches with 
 an effect that startled me. The windows glowed with the 
 forms of kings and saints, and the dusty and mouldering 
 shrines which rose around were colored with the light that 
 
94 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 came through The music pealed out like a triumphal 
 march, sinking at times into a mournful strain, as if it 
 celebrated and lamented the heroes who slept below. In 
 the stone pavement nearly under my feet was a large square 
 marble slab, with the words " CAROLO MAGNO." It was 
 like a dream, to stand there on the tomb of the mighty war 
 rior, with the lofty arches of the Cathedral above, filled with 
 the sound of the divine anthem. I mused above his ashes- 
 till the music ceased and then left the Cathedral, that 
 nothing might break the romantic spell associated with that 
 crumbling pile and the dead it covered. I have always 
 revered the memory of Charlemagne. He lived in a stern 
 age, but he was in mind and heart a man, and like Napoleon, 
 who placed the iron crown which had lain with him centuries 
 in the tomb, upon his own brow, he possessed a breadth and 
 grandeur of mind, which the world was forced to acknowledge. 
 At noon we took the ckars-a-banc, or second-class carriages, 
 for fear of rain ; and continued our journey over a plain dotted 
 with villages and old chateaux. Two or three miles from 
 Cologne we saw the spires of the different churches, con 
 spicuous among which were the unfinished towers of the 
 Cathedral with the enormous crane standing as it did when 
 they left off building, two hundred years ago or more. On 
 arriving, we drove to the Bonn railway, where, finding the 
 last train did not leave for four hours, we left our baggage 
 and set out for the Cathedral. Of all Gothic buildings, 
 the plan of this is certainly the most stupendous ; even 
 ruin as it is, it cannot fail to excite surprise and admiration, 
 The King of Prussia has undertaken to complete it accord 
 ing to the original plan, which was lately found in the pos 
 
LEGEND OF THE COLOGNE CATHEDRAL, 91 
 
 session of a poor man, of whom it was purchased for 40,000 
 florins, but the workmen have not yet finished repairing what 
 is already built. The legend concerning this plan may not 
 be known to every one. It is related of the inventor of it, 
 that in despair of finding any sufficiently great, he was 
 walking one day by the river, sketching with his stick upon 
 the sand, when he finally hit upon one which pleased him 
 so much that he exclaimed, " This shall be the plan !" "I 
 will show you a better one than that r said a voice sudden 
 ly behind him, and a certain black gentleman who figures in 
 many German legends stood by him, and pulled from his 
 pocket a roll containing the present plan of the Cathedral. 
 The architect, amazed at its grandeur, asked an explanation 
 of every part. As he knew his soul was to be the price of 
 it, he occupied himself, while the devil was explaining, in 
 committing its proportions carefully to memory. Having 
 done this, he remarked ihat it did not please him and he 
 would not take it. The devil, seeing through the cheat, 
 exclaimed in his rage : " You may build your Cathedral 
 according to this plan, but you shall never finish it !" This 
 prediction seems likely to be verified, for though it was com 
 menced in 1248, and continued for 250 years, only the choir 
 and nave and one tower to half its proposed height, are finished. 
 We visited the chapel of the Eleven Thousand Virgins, the 
 walls of which are full of curious grated cells, containing 
 their bones, and then threaded the narrow streets of Cologne, 
 which are quite dirty enough to justify Coleridge s lines : 
 " The river Rhine, it is well Laown, 
 Doth wash the city of Cologne ; 
 But tell me, nymphs, what power divine 
 Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine!" 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RHINE TO HEIDELBEfc<. 
 
 In Heidelberg The Star Hotel at Bonn Passing the Drachenfels Coblentz an< 
 Ehrenbreitstein The Charms of the Rhine Lurlei Rock and its Echo A Rainbow 
 at Obcrwesel Mayence Ride to Frankfort Hunting an Address Mr. Richard S. 
 ^rjllis The Festival at Darmstadt Scenery of the Bergstrasse German Peasants- 
 Fellow Passengers Heidelberg at Sunset A Resting Place. 
 
 HEIDELBERG, August 30, 1844. 
 
 HERE at last ! and a charming place it is. This is our 
 first morning in our new rooms, and the sun streams warmly 
 in the eastern windows, as I write, while the old castle rises 
 through the blue vapor on the side of the Kaiserstuhl. The 
 Neckar rushes on below ; and the Odenwald, before me, 
 rejoices with its vineyards in the morning light. The bells 
 of the old chapel near .us are sounding most musically, and a 
 confused sound of voices and the rolling of vehicles comes up 
 from the street. It is a place to live in ! 
 
 I must go back five or six days and take up the record of 
 our journeyings at Bonn. We had been looking over 
 Murray s infallible Handbook, and observed that he recom* 
 mended the " Star " hotel in that city, as " the most mode- 
 
THE STAR HOTEL AT BON1T. 97 
 
 rate in its prices of any on the Rhine;" so when the train 
 from Cologne arrived and we were surrounded, in the dark 
 ness and confusion, by porters and valets, I called out : 
 Hotel de V Etoile d Or /" our baggage and ourselves were 
 transferred to a stylish omnibus, and in five minutes we 
 stopped under a brilliantly-lighted archway, where Mr. 
 Joseph Schmidt received us with the usual number of smiles 
 and bows bestowed upon untitled guests. We were furnished 
 with neat rooms at the summit of the house, and then de 
 scended to the salle d manger. I found a folded note by my 
 plate, which I opened. It contained an engraving of the 
 front of the hotel, a plan of the city and catalogue of its 
 lions > together with a list of the titled personages who have, 
 from time to time, honored the " Golden Star" with their 
 custom. Among this number were " Their Royal High 
 nesses the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Prince Albert," 
 etc. Had it not been for fatigue, I should have spent an 
 uneasy night, thinking of the heavy bill which was to be 
 presented on the morrow. We escaped, however, for seven 
 francs apiece, three of which were undoubtedly for the 
 honor of breathing an aristocratic atmosphere. 
 
 I was glad when we were really in motion on the swift 
 Rhine, the next morning, and nearing the chain of mountains 
 that arose before us. We passed Godesberg on the right; 
 while on our left was the group of the Seven Mountains 
 which extend back from the Drachenfels to the Wolkenberg, 
 or Castle of the Clouds. Here we begin to enter the 
 enchanted land. The Rhine sweeps around the foot of the 
 Drachenfels, while the precipitous rock of Rolandseck 
 opposite, crowned with the castle of the faithful knight, looks 
 
 5 
 
98 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 down upon the beautiful island of Nonnenwerth, the whitt 
 walls of the convent still gleaming through the trees, as they 
 gleamed when the warrior s weary eyes looked upon them 
 for the last time. I shall never forget the enthusiasm with 
 which I saw this scene in the bright, warm sunlight^ the 
 rough crags softened in the haze which filled the atmosphere, 
 and the wild mountains springing up in the midst of vine 
 yards, and crowned with crumbling towers, haunted with 
 the memories of a thousand years. 
 
 After passing Andernach, we saw in the distance the high 
 lands of the middle Rhine, which rise above Coblentz, 
 guarding the entrance to its wild scenery, and the mountains 
 of the Moselle They parted as we approached ; from the 
 foot shot up the spires of Coblentz, and the battlements of 
 Ehrenbreitstein crowning the mountain opposite, grew 
 larger and broader. The air was slightly hazy, and the 
 clouds were laboring among the distant mountains to raise a 
 storm As we came opposite the mouth of the Moselle and 
 under the shadow of the mighty fortress, I gazed up with 
 awe at its massive walls. Apart from its magnitude and 
 almost impregnable situation on a perpendicular rock, it is 
 filled with the recollections of history and hallowed by the 
 voice of poetry. The scene went past like a panorama, the 
 bridge of boats opened, the city glided behind us and we 
 entered the highlands again. 
 
 Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a 
 legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the Past, and 
 its stirring recollections come back upon the mind with irre 
 sistible force. I sat upon the deck the whole afternoon, as 
 mountains, towns and castles passed by on either side, watch 
 
LUKLEI KU K AM) IT-i tCHO. 99 
 
 ing them with a feeling of the most enthusiastic; enjoyment 
 Every place was familiar to me in memory, and they seemed 
 like friends I had long communed with in spirit and now met 
 face to face. The English tourists, with whom the deck 
 was covered, seemed interested too, but in a different man 
 ner. With Murray s Handbook open in their hands, they 
 sat and read about the very towns and towers they were 
 passing, scarcely lifting their eyes to the real scenes, except 
 now and then, to observe that it was " very nice 
 
 As we passed Boppart, I sought out the Inn of the 
 " Star," mentioned in " Hyperion ;" there was a maiden 
 sitting on the steps who might have been Paul Flemming s 
 fair boat-woman. The clouds which had here gathered 
 among the hills, now came over the river, and the rain clear 
 ed the deck of its crowd of admiring tourists. As we were 
 approaching Lurlei Berg, I did not go below, and so enjoyed 
 some of the finest scenery on the Rhine alone. The moun 
 tains approach each other at this point, and the Lurlei Rock 
 rises up for six hundred feet from the water This is the 
 haunt of the water nymph, Lurlei, or Loreley, whose song 
 charmed the ear of the boatman while his barque was dashed 
 to pieces on the rocks below. It is also celebrated for its 
 remarkable echo. As we passed between the rocks, a guard, 
 who has a little house built on the road-side, blew a nourish 
 on his bugle, which was instantly answered by a blast from 
 the rocky battlements of Lurlei. The German students 
 have a witty trick with this echo : they call out, " Who is 
 the Burgomaster of Oberwesel ?" a town just above. The 
 echo answers with the last syllable "Esel!" which is thfl 
 German for ass. 
 
100 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The sun came out of the clouds as we passed OberweseV 
 with its tall round tower, and the light shining through the 
 ruined arches of Schonberg castle, made broad bars of light 
 and shade in the still misty air. A rainbow sprang up out 
 of the Rhine, and lay brightly on the mountain side, color 
 ing vineyard and crag, in the most singular beauty, while 
 its second reflection faintly arched like a glory above the 
 high summits. In the bed of the river were the seven coun 
 tesses of Schuiiberg, turned into seven rocks for their cruelty 
 andhard-heartedness towards the knights whom their beauty 
 had made captive. In front, at a little distance was the 
 castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, and from the 
 heights above Caub frowned the crumbling citadel of Guten- 
 fels. Imagine all this, and tell me if it is not a picture whose 
 memory should last a life-time ! 
 
 We came at last to Bingen, the southern gate of the High- 
 lands. Here on an island in the middle of the stream, is 
 the old Mouse Tower where Bishop Hatto of Mayence was 
 eaten up by the rats for his wicked deeds. Passing Riide- 
 sheim and Geissenheim, celebrated for their wines, at sun 
 set, we watched the varied shore in the growing darkness, 
 till, like a line of stars across the water, we saw before us 
 the bridge of Mayence 
 
 The next morning I parted from my friends, who were 
 going to Heidelberg by way of Mannheim, and set out alone 
 for Frankfort. The cars passed through Hochheim, whose 
 wines are celebrated all over the world ; but there is little 
 to interest the traveller until he arrives at Frankfort, whose 
 spires are seen rising from the groves of trees as he 
 approaches. I left the cars unchallenged for my passport 
 
FRANKFORT-ON THE-MAIK. 101 
 
 greatly to my surprise, as it had cost me a long walk and 
 five shillings in London, to get the signature of the Frank 
 fort Consul I learned afterwards that it was not at all 
 necessary. Before leaving America, Mr. N. P. Willis had 
 kindly given me a letter to his brother, Richard S. Willis, 
 who is now cultivating a naturally fine taste for music in 
 Frankfort, and my first care was to find the American Con* 
 sul, in order to learn his residence. I discovered at last 
 from a gentleman who spoke a little French, that the Con 
 sul s office was in the street Bellevuc, which street I not only 
 looked for through the city, but crossed over the bridge to 
 the suburb of Sachsenhausen, and traversed its narrow, dir 
 ty alleys three several times, but in vain. I was about giv 
 ing up the search, when I stumbled upon the office accidental, 
 ly. The name of the street had been given to me in French, 
 and very naturally it was not to be found. Mr. Willis 
 received me very kindly, and introduced me to the amiable 
 German family with whom he resides. 
 
 After spending a delightful evening with my newly -found 
 friends, I left the next morning in the omnibus for Heidel 
 berg. Four hours driving over the monotonous plain 
 brought me to Darmstadt. The city wore a gay look, left 
 by the recent fetes. The monument of the old Duke Lud- 
 wig had just been erected in the centre of the great square, 
 and the festival attendant upon the unveiling of it, which 
 lasted three days, had just closed. The city was hung with 
 garlands, and the square filled with the pavilions of the 
 royal family and the musicians, of whom there were a thou 
 Jand present, while every where were seen red and white 
 flags the colors of Darmstadt. We met wagons decorated 
 
102 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 with garlands, full of peasant girls in the odd dress which 
 they have worn for three hundred years. 
 
 After leaving Darmstadt we entered upon the Bergstrasse, 
 or Mountain-way, leading along the foot of the mountain 
 chain which extends all the way to Heidelberg on the left, 
 while on the right stretches far away the Rhine-plain, across 
 which we saw the dim outline of the Donnersberg, in 
 France. The hills are crowned with castles and their sides 
 loaded with vines ; along the road the rich green foliage of 
 the walnut trees arched and nearly met above us. The sun 
 shone warm and bright, and every body appeared busy and 
 contented and happy. All whom we met had smiling coun 
 tenances. In some places we saw whole families sitting 
 under the trees shelling the nuts they had beaten down, 
 while others were returning from the vineyards, laden with 
 baskets of purple and white grapes. The scene realized all 
 I had read of the happiness of the German peasantry, and 
 the pastoral beauty of the German plains. With the pas 
 sengers in the omnibus I could hold little conversation. 
 One, who knew about as much French as I did, asked me 
 where I came from, and I shall not forget the expression of 
 incredulity, as I mentioned America. " Why," said he, 
 " you are white the Americans are all black !" 
 
 We passed the ruined castles of Auerbach and Starken- 
 burg, and Burg Windeck, formerly one of the royal residences 
 of Charlemagne, and finally came to the Heiligenberg or 
 H6ly Mountain, guarding the entrance to the valley of the 
 Neckar. The sun was just setting as the ponderous vehicle 
 rounded the foot of the mountain, and Heidelberg the 
 brave, romantic, beautiful old electoral city-^lay spread ou< 
 
HEIDELBERG AT SUNSET. 109 
 
 before me on the opposite side of the river. Far above it 
 rose the wooaed Kaiserstuhl, midway down whose side hung 
 the massive bastions, terraces and roofless halls of the 
 famous Castle. Heavy masses of ivy hung from its arches, 
 and overran the quaint sculpture ot its walls, while the foli* 
 age of its gardens was visible behind, deep in the shadow 
 of the mountain. A faint yellow glow trembled over tha 
 pines and birches on the top of the Kaiserstuhl, and kept 
 the clear blue on the distant hills up the Neckar. Down 
 the steep paths of the Holy Mountain, on our left, came the 
 peasant -girls, with baskets on their heads, laden with the 
 purple clusters of the Muscatel, and talking to each other 
 gaily over garden walls. Careless students, pipe in hand, 
 sauntered along the river bank, listening to the sweet 
 evening chimes, rung first in the belfries of the town, and 
 taken up like an echo, from village to village among the 
 hills. 
 
 Looking forward to Heidelberg as a place for rest and 
 quiet study, there was something peculiarly grateful and 
 tranquillizing in the scene. To my eyes the scenery pre 
 sented a mingling of the wild with the cultivated of the 
 pastoral with the grand a combination so inspiring that I 
 found it difficult to keep my enthusiasm within proper 
 bounds. From the river-bank, above the bridge, cannon were 
 firing a closing salute for the Grand Duke s birth-day, the 
 sound crashing from hill to hill, far away into the Oden- 
 wald. The German passengers in the omnibus were highly 
 gratified by my delight, for they were proud of Heidelberg, 
 By good luck, my friends, who had arrived the day before, 
 
104 VIKWS A-FO.)P 
 
 happened to be passing up the main street, when the vehicle 
 stopped and took me at once to their temporary Quarter* *V 
 the Badischer Ho 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A MONTH AT HEJDELBERO. 
 
 Rooms In Heidelberg The Landlady View from our Window The Valley of tbfl 
 Neckar Heidelberg Castle The Towers The Great Tun The Wolfsbrunnen 
 An Afternoon Party Ascent of the Heiligenberg The Pastor of Zeigelhausen 
 The University Library A Wedding Conscripts German Cookery and Cus 
 toms The Melibochus The Sea of Rocks The Giant s Column Return. 
 
 HEIDELBERG, September 30, 1844. 
 
 THE day after my arrival here, by the help of a valet dt 
 place, who spoke a few words of English, we obtained threi 
 rooms in a large house overhanging the Neckar. We pay 
 for them, with attendance, thirty florins about twelve dol 
 lars a month, and Frau Dr. Grosch, our polite and talkative 
 landlady, gives us a student s breakfast coffee and biscuit 
 for about seven cents apiece. We are often much amused 
 to hear her endeavors to make us understand. As if to con 
 vey her meaning better, she raises both thumbs and fore 
 fingers to her mouth and pulls out the words like a long 
 string ; while her tongue goes so fast that it keeps my mind 
 always on a painful stretch to comprehend an expression 
 
 here and there. Dr. S , from whom we take lessons in 
 
 6* 
 
106 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 German, has kindly consented to our dining with his family 
 for the sake of practice in speaking. The language is fast 
 growing familiar, since women are the principal teachers. 
 
 Opposite to my window rises the Heiligenberg, on the 
 other side of the Neckar. The lower part of it is rich with 
 vineyards, and many cottages are embosomed in shrubbery 
 among them. Sometimes we see groups of maidens standing 
 under the grape arbors, and every morning the peasant 
 women go toiling up the steep paths with baskets on their 
 heads, to labor among the vines. On the Neckar below us, 
 the fishermen glide about in their boats, sink their square 
 nets fastened to long poles, and haul them up with the glit 
 tering fish, of which the stream is full. I often lean out of 
 the window late at night, when the mountains above are 
 wrapped in dusky obscurity, and listen to the low, musical 
 ripple of the river. It tells to my excited fancy a knightly 
 legend of the old German time. Then comes the bell, rung 
 for closing the inns, breaking the spell with its deep clang, 
 which vibrates far away on the night air, and wakes all the 
 echoes of the Odenwald. I then shut the window, turn 
 into the narrow box which the Germans call a bed, and in a 
 few minutes am wandering in America. Half way up the 
 Heiligenberg runs a beautiful walk, dividing the vineyards 
 from the forest above This is called the Philosopher s 
 Way, because it was the favorite ramble of the old Profes 
 sors of the University. It can be reached by a toilsome, 
 winding path among the vines, called the Snake-way, and 
 when one has ascended to it he is well rewarded by the 
 lovely view. In the evening, when the sun is behind the 
 mountain, it is delightful to sit on the stone steps and watcb 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE NECKAR. 10*} 
 
 the golden light creeping up the side of the Kaiserstuhl, 
 until at last twilight begins to darken in the valley and a 
 mantle of mist gathers above the river. 
 
 The valley of the Neckar is narrow, and only the little 
 slopes which here and there lie between the feet of its 
 wooded mountains are capable of cultivation. Higher up, 
 there are glens and meadows of luxuriant grass, to which 
 the peasants drive their cattle ; further still, it is barren and 
 rocky, and upon the summits rests a solitude as complete as 
 upon the unsettled prairies of the West. An hour s walk 
 takes one from the busy streets of the little city to this 
 beautiful and lonely region, and the stranger may explore 
 the paths he finds leading far away among the hills, for 
 weeks together. The people of Heidelberg are rich in 
 places of pleasure and amusement. From the Carl Platz, 
 an open square at the upper end of the city, two paths lead 
 directly up to the castle. By the first walk we ascend a flight 
 of steps to the western gate, passing through which, we 
 enter a delightful garden, between the outer walls of the 
 Castle, and the huge moat which surrounds it. Great linden, 
 oak and beech trees shadow the walks, and in secluded 
 nooks, little mountain streams spring from the side of the 
 wall into stone basins. There is a tower over the moat on the 
 south side, next the mountain, where the portcullis still hangs 
 with its sharp teeth as it was last drawn up ; on each side 
 two grim knights guard the entrance. In one of the wood 
 ed walks is an old tree brought from America in the year 
 1618. It is an arbor vitce, uncommonly tall and slender for 
 one of this species ; yet it does not seem to thrive well in a 
 foreign soil. In the curve of the mountain ip a handsome 
 
108 VIEWS A-FOO1. 
 
 pavilion, surrounded with beds of flowers and fountains; 
 here all classes meet together in the afternoon to take re 
 freshment in the shade, while frequently a fine band of 
 music gives them their invariable recreation. The Germans 
 enjoy life under all circumstances, and are a much happier 
 people than we, who have far greater means of being so. 
 
 At the end of the terrace built for the Princess Elizabeth 
 of England, is one of the round towers which was split in 
 twain by the French. Half has fallen entirely away, and 
 the other semicircular shell which joins the terrace and part 
 of the Castle buildings, clings firmly together, although part 
 of its foundation is gone, so that its outer ends actually hang 
 in the air. Some idea of the strength of the castle may be 
 obtained when I state that the walls of this tower are twen 
 ty-two feet thick, and that a staircase has been made through 
 them to the top, where one can sit under the lindens growing 
 upon it, or look down from the end on the city below, with 
 the pleasant consciousness that the great mass upon which 
 he stands is only prevented from crashing down with him by 
 the solidity of its masonry. On one side, joining the gar 
 den, the statue of the Archduke Louis, in his breastplate 
 and flowing beard, looks out from among the ivy. 
 
 There is little to be seen about the Castle, except the walls 
 themselves. The guide conducted us through passages, in 
 which were heaped many of the enormous cannon balls re 
 ceived in sieges, to some chambers in the foundation. This 
 was the oldest part of the Castle, built in the thirteenth cen 
 tury. We also visited the chapel, which is in a tolerable 
 state of preservation. A kind of narrow bridge crosses it, 
 over which we walked, looking down on the empty pulpit 
 
THE WOLFSBRUNNEN. 109 
 
 and deserted shrines. We then went into the cellar to see 
 the celebrated Tun. In a large vault are kept several 
 enormous hogsheads, one of which is three hundred years 
 old, hut they are nothing in comparison with the tun, which 
 itself fills a whole vault. It is as high as a common two- 
 story house ; on the top is a platform upon which the people 
 used to dance after it was filled. It will contain 800 barrels 
 of wine, but has been empty for fifty years. 
 
 Then there is the Wolfsbrunnen, which one reaches by a 
 beautiful walk up the bank of the Neckar, to a quiet dell in 
 the side of the mountain. Here a path wanders off by 
 rustic mills, always in motion, and orchards laden with ripen 
 ing fruit, to the commencement of the forest, where a quaint 
 stone fountain stands, commemorating the abode of a sorcer 
 ess of the olden time, who was torn in pieces by a wolf. 
 There is a handsome rustic inn here, where every Sunday 
 afternoon a band plays in the portico, while hundreds of 
 people are scattered around in the cool shadow of the trees, 
 or feeding the splendid trout in the basin formed by the little 
 stream. They generally return to the city by a path along 
 the mountain side, to the eastern terrace of the castle, where 
 they have fine views of the great Rhine plain, terminated by 
 the Alsatian hills, stretching along the western horizon like 
 the long crested swells on the ocean. We can even see 
 these from the windows of our room on the bank of the 
 Neckar ; and I often look with interest on one sharp peak, 
 for on its side stands the Castle of Trifels, where Coeur de 
 Lion was imprisoned by the Duke of Austria. 
 
 A few days ago a party was forrrfed by our German friends, 
 and we spent an afternoon at the Wolfsbrunnen. Frau Dr 
 
1 10 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 S , who was always ready for any social undertaking 
 
 had the management of the excursion, and directed us with 
 the skill of a general. Fraulein Elise, her niece, a blooming 
 
 maiden of sixteen, and Madame , a sprightly little 
 
 widow from Mannheim, with Dr. S , one or two students, 
 
 and we Americans, were her subjects. The books, the cards, 
 the guitar and music were distributed among those best able 
 to carry them, and we finally started, without any particular 
 order of march. German etiquette forbids a lady to take the 
 arm of a male friend, unless she is betrothed to him : talking 
 is allowed, fortunately. 
 
 As we climbed to the terraces of the castle, we could see 
 the thread of the Rhine, in the distance, sparkling through 
 the haze. The light air which came down the Neckar was 
 fragrant with pine and the first falling leaves of summer 
 trees. The vineyards below us were beginning to look crisp 
 and brown, but hanging from stake to stake the vines were 
 bent down by blue clusters, with the bloom still upon them. 
 Troops of light-hearted students, children, blue-eyed and 
 blond-haired, and contented citizens, were taking the same 
 path, and like them, we forgot every thing but the sense of 
 present happiness. We had a table spread upon the upper 
 balcony of the inn, after our scattered forces returned from 
 many a long ramble up the glen and out on the meadows. 
 
 Frau Dr. S ordered a repast, and the " landlady s 
 
 daughter" not the sweet maid of Uhland s song, but a 
 stout-armed and stout-waisted damsel brought us a jar of 
 curds, dripping with the cool water in which it had stood. 
 A loaf of brown bread next made its appearance, followed 
 by a stone jug of foaming beer, and two or three dishes of 
 
CLIMBING THE HEILIGENBERG. Ill 
 
 those prune-tarts peculiar to Germany completed the fare 
 On the porch below us, two or three musicians played 
 waltzes, and the tables around the fountain were filled with 
 students, laughing, clinking their beer-glasses, or trolling 
 some burschen chorus. Our own table did not lack the 
 heartiest spirit of mirth ; this could not be otherwise so long 
 
 as Frau Dr. S sat at the head of it. The students were 
 
 gay and full of life, and even Dr. S , the most correct 
 
 and studious of the party, was so far influenced by the spirit 
 of the time, that he sang the " King of Thule " with more 
 warmth than I had thought possible. 
 
 We ascended the Heiligenberg a few days ago. There is a 
 path which leads through the forest, but we took the shortest 
 way, directly up the side, although it was at an angle of 
 nearly fifty degrees. It was hard work enough, scrambling 
 through the thick broom and heather, and over stumps and 
 stones. In one of the stone-heaps I dislodged a large 
 orange : colored salamander, seven or eight inches long. 
 They are sometimes found on these mountains, as well as a 
 very large kind of lizard, which the Germans say is per 
 fectly harmless, and if one whistles or plays a pipe, will 
 come and play around him. The view from the top is simi 
 lar to that from the Kaiserstuhl opposite, but on a smaller 
 scale. Nestled at the base below us, was the little village 
 of Handschuhheim, one of the oldest in this part of Germa 
 ny. The castle of its former lords has nearly all fallen 
 down, but the massive solidity of the walls which yet stand, 
 proves its antiquity. A few years ago, a part of the outer 
 wall which was remarked to have a hollow sound was taken 
 down, when a skeleton, clad in a suit of the old German 
 
112 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 armor, fell from a deep niche built therein. We followed a 
 road through the woods to the peak on which stand the 
 ruins of St. Michael s chapel, which was built in the tenth 
 century and inhabited for a long time by a sect of white 
 monks. It had a wild and romantic look, and I sat on a 
 rock and sketched at it, until night came on, when we got 
 down the mountain the best way we could. 
 
 The village of Ziegelhausen, up the Neckar, with its grim 
 old convent, gardens and cascades, and the delightful arbors 
 of vine, reaching down to the very brink of the river, is 
 another favorite place of resort. The pastor of its church, 
 who is familiar with our German friends, frequently joins us 
 in an afternoon walk, followed by a cup of tea in the garden 
 of the inn, or a share in the games of the village children. 
 The pastor is a most jovial, genial character ; he sings very 
 finely indeed he is brother to the pnmo tenore in the Opera 
 at Brunswick and his wit is inexhaustible. His religion is 
 as genuine as his cheerfulness ; it is no gloomy asceticism, 
 which looks on mirth as sin, but a joyous, affectionate, and 
 abounding spirit, bright as God s sunshine, and as uncon 
 scious of its blessing. How happily pass our September 
 afternoons, warmed by such true social feeling, and re 
 freshed by all the kindly influences of nature ! If a return 
 like this to the simple joys of the child s heart be but 
 obtained by the mature age of a nation, I could almost wish 
 our own country might grow old speedily. The restless 
 energy of Youth is still upon us. The nation overflows 
 with active impulses, which fear nothing, and yield to 
 nothing. We have not yet felt the need of Rest. 
 
 We lately visited the great University Library. You 
 
A WEDDING CONSCRIPTS. US 
 
 walk through hall after hall, filled with books of all kinds, 
 from the monkish manuscript of the middle ages, to the most 
 elegant print of the present day. There is something to me 
 more impressive in a library like this than a solemn Cathedral. 
 I think involuntarily of the hundreds of mighty spirits who 
 speak from these three hundred thousand volumes of the 
 toils and privations with which Genius has ever struggled, 
 and of his glorious reward. As in a church, one feels as it 
 were the presence of God ; not because the place has been 
 hallowed by His worship, but been use all around stand the 
 inspirations of His spirit, breathed through the mind of 
 genius, to men. 
 
 A few nights ago there was a wedding of peasants across 
 the river. The guests assembled at the house where it was 
 given, by torchlight. The night was quite dark, and the 
 bright red torches glowed on the surface of the Neckar, as 
 the two couriers galloped along the banks to the bride 
 groom s house Here, after much shouting and confusion, 
 the procession was arranged, the two riders started back 
 again with their torches, and the wagons containing the 
 guests followed after, with their flickering lights glancing on 
 the water, until they disappeared around the foot of the 
 mountain. The choosing of conscripts also took place 
 lately. The law requires one person out of every hundred 
 to become a soldier, and this, in the city of Heidelberg, 
 amounts to nearly 150 recruits. It was a sad spectacle. 
 I he young men, or rather boys, who were chosen, went 
 about the city with cockades fastened on their hats, shouting 
 and singing, many of them quite intoxicated. Many were 
 rough, ignorant peasants, to whom nearly any kind of life 
 
114 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 would be agreeable ; but there were some whose counte- 
 nances spoke otherwise, and I thought involuntarily that 
 their drunken gaiety was only affected to conceal their 
 repugnance to the lot which had fallen upon them. 
 
 We are gradually becoming accustomed to the German 
 style of living, which is very different from our own. Their 
 cookery is new to us, but is nevertheless palatable. We 
 have every day a different kind of soup, so that I have sup 
 posed they keep a regular list of three hundred and sixty- 
 five, one for every day in the year ! Then we have potato 
 salad, veal flavored with orange peel, barley pudding, boiled 
 artichokes, and rye bread, in loaves a yard long. Neverthe 
 less, we thrive on such diet, and I have rarely enjoyed more 
 sound and refreshing sleep than in the narrow and coffin-like 
 beds, uncomfortable as they seem. Many of the German 
 customs are amusing. We never see oxen working here, 
 but always cows, sometimes a single one in a cart, and some 
 times two fastened together by a yoke across their horns. 
 The women labor constantly in the fields, and from our win 
 dow we can hear the nut-brown maidens singing their cheer 
 ful songs among th<3 vineyards on the mountain side. Their 
 costume, too, is odd enough. Below the tight-fitting vest 
 they wear such a number of short skirts, one above another, 
 that it reminds one of an animated hogshead, with a head 
 and shoulders starting out from the top. I have heard it 
 gravely asserted that the wealth of a German damsel may 
 be known by counting the number of her kirtles. An 
 acquaintance of mine remarked, that it would be an excel 
 lent costume for falling down a precipice. 
 
 We have just returned from a second visit to Frankfort, 
 
THE SEA OF ROCKS. 115 
 
 where the great annual fair filled the streets with noise anu 
 bustle. On our return, we stopped at the village of Zwin- 
 genberg, which lies at the foot of the Melibochus, for the 
 purpose of visiting some of the scenery of the Odenwald. 
 Passing the night at the inn there, we slept with one bed 
 under us and two above, and started early in the morning to 
 climb up the side of the Melibochus. After a long walk 
 through the forests, which were beginning to change their 
 summer foliage for a brighter garment, we reached the sum 
 mit and ascended the stone tower which stands upon it. 
 This view gives one a better idea of the Odenwald, than 
 that from the Kaiserstuhl at Heidelberg. In the soft autumn 
 atmosphere it looked even more beautiful. After an hour 
 in that heaven of uplifted thought, into which we step from 
 the mountain-top, our minds went with the path downward 
 to the earth, and we descended the eastern side into the wild 
 region which contains the Felsenmeer, or Sea of Rocks. 
 
 We met on the way a student from Fulda a fine speci 
 men of that free-spirited class, and a man whose smothered 
 aspiration was betrayed in the flashing of his eye, as he 
 spoke of the present painful and oppressed condition of 
 Germany. We talked so busily together that without notic 
 ing the path, which had been bringing us on, up hill and 
 down, through forest and over rock, we came at last to a 
 halt in a valley among the mountains Making inquiries 
 there, we found we had gone wrong, and must ascend again 
 by a different path. Near the summit of the mountain, in 
 a wild pine wood, was the Felsenmeer a great collection of 
 rocks heaped together like pebbles on the sea shore, and 
 wrorn and rounded as if by the action of water. So much 
 
11 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 do they resemble waves, that one who stands at the bottom 
 and looks up, cannot resist the idea, that they will flow 
 down upon him. It must have been a mighty tide whose re 
 ceding waves left these masses piled together. The same 
 formation continues at intervals, to the foot of the mountains. 
 A little higher up, lies a massive block of granite called the 
 " Giant s Column." It is thirty-two feet long and three or 
 four feet in diameter, and still bears the mark of the chisel. 
 When or by whom it was made remains a mystery. Some 
 have supposed it was intended to be erected for the worship 
 of the Sun, by the wild Teutonic tribes who inhabited this 
 forest ; it is more probably the work of the Romans. A 
 project was once started, to erect it as a monument on the 
 battle-field of Leipsic, but it was found too difficult to carry 
 into execution. 
 
 After dining at the little village of Reichelsdorf in the 
 valley below, where the merry landlord charged my friend 
 two kreutzers less than myself because he was not so tall, 
 we visited the Castle of Schonberg, and joined the Berg- 
 strasse aganic We returned to Heidelberg on foot the same 
 evening, but long before we arrived, the moon shone down 
 on us over the mountains, and when we turned around the 
 foot of the Heiligenberg, the mist descending in the valley 
 of the Neckar, rested like a light cloud on the 
 spirea 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A WAtK THROUGH THE ODENWALD. 
 
 Remoral to Frankfort A German Parting Twilight on the Mountains The Inn of 
 Elsbach A Frosty Morning A Village Fair The Castle of Erbach Historical 
 Armor An Antiquarian Theft Curiosity of the Peasants Castle of the Wild 
 Huntsman An Old Peasant The Emigrant Family. 
 
 FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAINE, Oct. 25, 1844. 
 
 I AM now comfortably settled for the winter in this stately 
 old city, having emigrated hither from Heidelberg three 
 
 weeks ago. My friend B and I, through the assistance 
 
 of Mr. Richard Willis, have obtained quarters with the 
 amiable family with whom he has been residing for two 
 years past. We find that the cost of living is somewhat 
 less here than in Heidelberg, and hope to see more of the 
 domestic and social life of Germany. My cousin, who 
 desires to attend the winter course of lectures at the Uni 
 versity, remains at the latter place. 
 
 Having forwarded our baggage by the omnibus, we came 
 hither on foot, through the heart of the Odenwald, a region 
 
 full of interest, yet little visited by travellers. Dr. S 
 
 and his family walked with us three or four miles of the 
 
118 VTEWR A-FOOT. 
 
 way, and on a hill above Ziegeibausen, with a splendid view 
 
 behind us, through the mountain-door out of which the 
 Neckar enters on the Rhine-plain, we parted. This was a 
 first, and I must confess, a somewhat embarrassing experi 
 ence of German leave-taking. After bidding adieu three or 
 four times, we started to go up the mountain and they down 
 it, but at every second step we had to turn around to 
 acknowledge the waving of hands and handkerchiefs which 
 continued as long as we were in sight. We descended on 
 the other side into a wild and romantic valley, whose mea 
 dows were of the brightest green ; a little brook which 
 wound through them, put now and then its silvery shoulder 
 to the wheel of a rustic mill. By the road-side two or three 
 wild-looking gipsies sat around a fire, with some goats feed 
 ing near them. 
 
 Passing through this valley and the little village of Scho- 
 nau, we commenced ascending one of the loftiest ranges of 
 the Odenwald. The side of the mountain was covered with 
 a thick pine forest. There was no wind to wake its solemn 
 anthem ; all was calm and majestic, and even awful. The 
 trees rose all around like the pillars of a vast Cathedral, 
 whose long arched aisles vanished far below in the deepen 
 ing gloom. We went on and up and ever higher; the beech 
 and dwarf oak took the place of the pine, and at last we 
 arrived at a cleared summit whose long brown grass waved 
 desolately in the dim light of evening. A faint glow still 
 lingered over the forest hills, but down in the valley the 
 dusky shades hid every vestige of life, though its sounds 
 came up softened through the long space. When we reach 
 ed the top, a bright planet stood like a diamond over the 
 
8CBNERT OF THE ODENWALD, 119 
 
 brow of the eastern hill, and the sound of a twilight bell 
 came up clearly and sonorously on the cool, damp air The 
 white veil of mist slowly descended the mountain side, but 
 the peaks rose above it like the wrecks of a world floating 
 in space. We made our way in the dusk down the long 
 path, to the rude little dorf of Elsbach. I asked at the first 
 inn for lodging, and we were ushered into a great room, 
 in which a number of girls who had been at work in the 
 fields, were assembled. They were all dressed in cloth 
 jackets and short gowns, and some had their hair streaming 
 down their backs. The landlord s daughter, however, was a 
 beautiful girl, whose modest, delicate features contrasted 
 greatly with the coarse faces of the others I thought of 
 Uhland s beautiful little poem of " The Landlady s Daugh 
 ter," as I looked on her. In the room hung two or three 
 pair of antlers, and they told us deer were still plenty in 
 the forests. 
 
 When we left the village the next morning, we again 
 commenced ascending. Over the whole valley and half way 
 up the mountain, lay a thick white frost, almost like snow, 
 which, contrasted with the green trees and bushes scattered 
 over the meadows, produced the most singular effect. We 
 plucked blackberries ready iced from the bushes by the 
 road-side, and went on in the cold, for the sun shone only on 
 the top of the opposite mountain, into another valley down 
 which rushed the rapid Ulver. At a little village which 
 bears the beautiful name of AntescMnmattenwag, we took 
 a foot-path directly over a steep mountain to the village of 
 Finkenbach Near the top I found two wild-looking chil 
 dren, cutting grass with knives, both of whom I prevailed 
 
120 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 upon for a few kreutzers to stand and let me sketch them. 
 From the summit the view on the other side was very strik 
 ing. The hills were covered with wood, and not a dwelling 
 in sight. It reminded me of our forest scenery at home, 
 except that the trees were much smaller. 
 
 At length, after scaling another mountain, Ave reached a 
 wide, elevated plain, in the middle of which stood the old 
 dorf of Beerfelden. It was then crowded with people, on 
 account of a great cattle-fair being held there. All the 
 farmers of the neighborhood were assembled, clad in the 
 ancient country costume broad cocked hats and blue frocks. 
 An orchard near the town was filled with cattle and horses, 
 and near by, in the shade, a number of pedlars had arranged 
 their wares. The cheerful looking country people touched 
 their hats to us as we passed. This custom of greeting 
 travellers, universal in Germany, is very expressive of their 
 social, friendly manners. Among the mountains, we fre 
 quently met groups of children who sang together their 
 simple ballads as we passed by. 
 
 From Beerfelden we passed down the valley of the Mim- 
 ling to Erbach, the principal city in the Odenwald, whero 
 we halted a short time to view the Rittersaal in the old 
 family castle of the Counts of Erbach. An officer, who 
 stood at the gates, conducted us to the door, where we were 
 received by a noble-looking, gray-headed steward. He 
 took us into the Rittersaal at once, which was like stepping 
 back three hundred years. The stained windows of the 
 lofty Gothic hall let in a subdued light, which fell on the 
 forms of kings and knights, clad in the armor they wore 
 during life. On the left as we entered, were mail-covered 
 
THE CASTLE OF ERBACM. 121 
 
 figures of John and Cosmo de Medici ; further on stood the 
 Emperor Maximilian, and by his side the celebrated dwarf 
 who was served up in a pie at one of the imperial feasts. 
 His armor was most delicate and beautiful, but small as it 
 was, Tom Thumb would have room to spare in it. Gustavus 
 Adolphus and Wallenstein looked down from the neighboring 
 pedestals, while at the other end stood Goetz von Berlichin- 
 gen and Albert of Brunswick. The steward told me that 
 the iron hand of Goetz was in possession of the family, but 
 not shown to strangers ; he pointed out, however, the buckles 
 on the armor, by which it was fastened. Adjoining the hall 
 is an antique chapel, filled with rude old tombs, and contain 
 ing the sarcophagus of Count Eginhard of Denmark, who 
 lived about the tenth century. There were also monkish 
 garments five hundred years old hanging up in it. 
 
 The collection of antiquities is large and interesting ; but 
 it is said that the old Count obtained some of them in rather 
 a questionable manner. Among other incidents they relate 
 that when in Rome he visited the Pope, taking with him an 
 old servant who accompanied him in all his travels, and was 
 the accomplice in most of his antiquarian thefts. In one of 
 the outer halls, among the curiosities, was an antique shield 
 of great value. The servant was left in this hall while the 
 Count had his audience, arid in a short time this shield was 
 missed. The servant, who wore a long cloak, was missed 
 also ; orders were given to close the gates and search every 
 body, but it was too late the thief was gone. 
 
 Leaving Erbach we found out the direction of Snellert, 
 the castle of the Wild Huntsman, and took a road that led 
 us for two or three hours along the top of a mountain ridge. 
 
I 22 VIK.WS A-FOOT 
 
 Through the openings in the pine and larch forests, we had 
 glimpses of the hills of Spessart, beyond the Main. When 
 we finally left the by-road we had chosen it was quite dark, 
 and we missed the way altogether among the lanes and 
 meadows. We came at last to a full stop at the house of 
 farmer, who guided us by a foot-path over the fields to a 
 small village. On entering the only inn, kept by the Burgo 
 master, the people, on finding we were Americans, regarded 
 us with a curiosity quite uncomfortable. They crowded 
 around the door, watching every motion, and gazed in through 
 the windows. The wild huntsman himself could scarcely have 
 made a greater sensation. The news of our arrival seemed 
 to have spread very fast, for the next morning when we 
 stopped at a prune orchard some distance from the village to 
 buy some fruit, the farmer cried out from a tree, " they are 
 the Americans ; give them as many as they want for 
 nothing !" 
 
 With the Burgomaster s little son for a guide, we went 
 back a mile or two of our route to Snellert, which we had 
 passed the night before, and after losing ourselves two or 
 three times in the woods, arrived at last at the top of the 
 mountain, where the ruins of the castle stand. The walls 
 are nearly level with the ground. The interest of a visit 
 rests entirely on the romantic legend, and the wild view 
 over the hills around. On the opposite mountain are the 
 ruins of Rodenstein, to which the wild Huntsman was wont 
 to ride at midnight where he now rides no more. The 
 echoes of Rodenstein are no longer awakened by the sound 
 of his bugle, and the hoofs of his demon steed clanging on 
 the battlements. But the hills around are wild enough, and 
 
THE EMIGRANT FAMILY. 123 
 
 the roar of the pine forests deep enough to have inspired the 
 simple peasants with the romantic tradition. 
 
 Stopping for dinner at the town of Rheinheim, we met an 
 old man, who, on learning we were Americans, walked with 
 us as far as the next village. He had a daughter in America; 
 and was highly gratified to meet any one from the country 
 of her adoption. He made me promise to visit her, if I 
 ever should go to St. Louis, and say that I had walked with 
 her father from Rheinheim to Zwangenburg. To satisfy his 
 fears lest I might forget it, I took down his name and that 
 of his daughter. He shook me warmly by the hand at 
 parting, and was evidently made happier for that day. 
 
 We reached Darmstadt just in time to take a seat in the 
 omnibus for Frankfort. Among the passengers were a 
 Bavarian family, on their way to Bremen, whence they 
 intended sailing for Texas. I endeavored to discourage 
 the man from choosing such a country for his home, by 
 telling him of the climate and the Indians, but he was too 
 full of hope to be shaken in his purpose. I would have 
 added that it was a slave-land, but I thought on our own 
 country s curse, and was silent. The wife was not so san 
 guine ; she seemed to mourn in secret at leaving her beauti 
 ful fatherland. It was saddening to think how lonely they 
 would feel in that far home, and how they would long, with 
 true German devotion, to look again on the green vintage- 
 hills of their forsaken country. As night drew on, the little 
 girl crept over to her father for his accustomed evening kiss, 
 and then sank back to sleep in a corner of the wagon. The 
 boy, in the artless confidence of childhood, laid his head on 
 my breast, weary with the day s travel, and soon slept also. 
 
124 VIKWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Thus we drove on in the dark, till at length the lights of 
 Frankfort glimmered on the breast of the rapid Main, as we 
 passed over the bridge, and when we stopped near the 
 Cathedral, I delivered up my little charge, and sent my 
 sympathy with the wanderers on their lonely way. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN FRANKFORT. 
 
 Frankfort and its Associations Our Quarters Mr. Kichard S. Willis The Market- 
 WomenInauguration of the Statue of Goethe The Streets of Frankfort The 
 Main Bridge The Golden Cock Weather Baron Rothschild The Promenades- 
 Celebration of the Vintage The Poet Freiligrath. 
 
 FRANKFORT, December 4, 1844. 
 
 THIS is a genuine old German city. Founded by Charle 
 magne, afterwards a rallying point of the Crusaders, and for 
 a long time the capital of the German Empire, it has no 
 lack of interesting historical recollections, and notwithstand 
 ing it is now fast becoming modernized, one is everywhere 
 reminded of the Past. The Cathedral, old as the days of 
 Peter the Hermit, the grotesque street of the Jews, the 
 many quaint, antiquated dwellings and the mouldering watch- 
 towers on the hills around, give it a more interesting charac 
 ter than any German city I have yet seen. The house we 
 dwell in, on the Markt Platz, is more than two hundred 
 years old ; directly opposite is a great castellated building, 
 gloomy with the weight of six centuries, and a few steps to 
 the left brings me to the square of the Romerberg, where 
 
126 VIFWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the Emperors were crowned, in a corner of which is a curi 
 ously ornamented house, formerly the residence of Luther. 
 There are legends innumerable connected with all these 
 buildings, and even yet discoveries of secret chambers and 
 staircases are frequently made in old houses. When you add 
 to all this, the German love of ghost stories, and, indeed, 
 their general belief in spirits, the lover of romance could not 
 desire a more agreeable residence. 
 
 We have two rooms on the second floor, overlooking the 
 crowded market, and commanding the top of the Romerberg. 
 As in all old German houses, there are no carpets, and the 
 furniture is of the simplest and plainest character. We 
 
 take our meals with the family of Herr S , of which, 
 
 indeed, we now form a part, conforming in every respect to 
 their habits, and sharing in all their social enjoyments. The 
 difficulties of the language are at last overcome, and all the 
 more familiar phrases of the hearty German tongue come 
 as naturally to my lips as the corresponding English ones. 
 I now read Hauff, and Uhland, and Schiller, without difficul 
 ty, and look forward to a winter of rich enjoyment, in the 
 
 study of the great German authors. I pay Herr S , 
 
 twenty -five florins about ten dollars monthly, for all the 
 privileges of a home, and thus, in spite of my diminishing 
 funds, I am at least certain of knowing Germany and the 
 Germans, before being obliged to return home. 
 
 Mr. Willis, whose society adds another pleasure to our 
 sojourn here, has been in Frankfort since 1842, studying 
 and preparing himself for the higher branches of musical 
 composition. The talent he displayed while at college, and 
 the success following the publication of a set of beautiful 
 
THE MARKET-WOMEN. 
 
 127 
 
 waltzes be there composed, led him to choose this most diffi 
 cult but lofty path. The result justifies his early promise, 
 and gives the most sanguine anticipation for the future. He 
 studied the first two years here under Schnyder von War- 
 tensee, a distinguished Swiss composer ; and his exercise? 
 have met with the warmest approval from Mendelssohn, ar 
 present the first German composer, and Rinck, the celebrated 
 organist. The enormous labor and application required to 
 go through the preparatory studies alone, would make it 
 seem almost impossible for one with the restless energy of 
 the American character, to undertake it ; but as this very 
 energy gives genius its greatest power, we may now trust 
 with confidence that Mr. Willis, since he has nearly com 
 pleted his studies, will win himself and his country honor in 
 the difficult path he has chosen. 
 
 I often look out on the singular scene below my window. 
 On both sides of the street, leaving barely room to enter 
 the houses, sit the market-women, with their baskets of 
 vegetables and fruit. The middle of the street is filled with 
 female purchasers, and every cart or carriage that comes 
 along, has to force its way through the crowd, sometimes 
 rolling against and overturning the baskets at the sides, an 
 occurrence which is always followed by a Babel of unintel 
 ligible sounds. The country-women in their jackets and 
 short gowns go backwards and forwards with great loads on 
 their heads, sometimes nearly as high as themselves. The 
 market-women sit here from sunrise till sunset, day after 
 day, for years. They have little furnaces for cooking and 
 for warmth in winter, and when it rains they sit in large 
 wooden boxes. One or two policemen are generally on the 
 
128 VIEWS A-FOOT, 
 
 ground in^ the morning to prevent their disputing about 
 places, which often gives rise to grotesque scenes. Perhaps 
 this kind of life in the open air is conducive to longevity ; 
 for certainly there is no country on earth that has as many 
 old women. Many of them resemble walking machines 
 made of leather ; and to judge from what I see in the streets 
 here, I should think they work until they die. 
 
 On the 21st of October a most interesting fete took place. 
 The magnificent monument of Goethe, modelled by the 
 sculptor Schwanthaler, at Munich, and cast in bronze, was 
 unveiled. It arrived a few days before, and was received 
 with much ceremony and erected in the destined spot, an 
 open square in the western part of the city, planted with 
 acacia trees. I went there at ten o clock, and found the 
 square already full of people. Seats had been elected 
 around the monument for ladies, the singers and musicians. 
 A company of soldiers was stationed to keep a vacant space 
 for the procession, which at length arrived with music and 
 banners, and entered the enclosure. A song for the occasion 
 was sung by the choir with such perfect harmony and unity, 
 that it seemed like some glorious instrument touched by a 
 single hand. Then a poetical address was delivered, after 
 which four young men took their stand at the corners of the 
 monument ; the drums and trumpets gave a flourish, and the 
 mantle fell. The noble figure seemed to rise out of the 
 earth, and thus amid shoutings and the triumphal peal of 
 the band, the form of Goethe greeted the city of his birth. 
 He is represented as leaning on the trunk of a tree, holding 
 in his right hand a roll of parchment, and in his left a wreath. 
 The pedestal, which is also of bronze, contains bas-reliefs, 
 
THE STREETS OF FRANKFORT. 12JJ 
 
 representing scenes from Faust, Wilhelm Meister and 
 Egmont. In the evening Goethe s house, in an adjoining 
 street, was illuminated by arches of lamps between the 
 windows, and hung with wreaths of flowers. Four pillars 
 of colored lamps lighted the statue. At nine o clock the 
 choir of singers came again in a procession, with colored 
 lanterns, and after singing two or three songs, the statue was 
 exhibited in the red glare of the Bengal light. The trees 
 and houses around the square were covered with the 
 glow, which streamed in broad sheets up against the dark 
 sky. 
 
 Within the walls the greater part of Frankfort is built in 
 the old German style the houses six or seven stories high, 
 and every story projecting out over the other, so that those 
 living in the attics can nearly shake hands out of the win 
 dows. At the corners one sometimes sees grotesque figures, 
 bearing the projecting upper stories on their shoulders and 
 making horrible faces at the weight. When I state that in 
 all these narrow streets which constitute the greater part of 
 the city, there are no sidewalks, while the windows of the 
 lower stories have iron gratings extending a foot or so into 
 the street, which is only wide enough for one cart to pass 
 along, you can have some idea of the facility of walking 
 through them, to say nothing of the piles of wood, and 
 market-women with baskets of vegetables which one is con 
 tinually stumbling over. 
 
 As I walked across the Main, and looked down at the 
 swift stream on its way from the distant Thuringian forest 
 to join the Rhine, I thought of the time when Schiller stood 
 there in the days of his early struggles, an exile from his 
 
 6* 
 
130 VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 native land, and looking over the bridge, said in the loneli 
 ness of his heart, " That water flows not so deep as my 
 sufferings ! " In the middle, on an iron ornament, stands 
 the golden cock at which Goethe used to marvel when a 
 boy. Perhaps you have not heard the legend connected 
 with this. The bridge was built several hundred years ago 
 with such strength and solidity that it will stand many 
 hundred yet. The architect had contracted to build it 
 within a certain time, but as it drew near, without any 
 prospect of fulfilment, the devil appeared to him and 
 promised to finish it, on condition of having the first soul 
 that passed over it. This was agreed upon, arid the devil 
 performed his part of the bargain. The artist, however, on 
 the day appointed, drove a cock across before he suffered 
 any one to pass over it. His majesty stationed himself 
 under the middle arch of the bridge, awaiting his prey ; 
 but enraged at the cheat, he tore the unfortunate fowl in 
 pieces, and broke two holes in the arch, saying they should 
 never be built up again. The golden cock was erected on 
 the bridge as a token of the event, but the devil has perhaps 
 lost some of his power in these latter days, for the holes 
 were filled up about thirty years ago. 
 
 From the hills on the Darmstadt road, I had a view of the 
 country around the fields were white and bare, and the 
 dark Taunus, with the broad patches of snow on his sides, 
 looked grim and shadowy through the dim atmosphere. It 
 was like the landscape of a dream dark, strange, and 
 silent. The whole of last month we saw the sun but two or 
 three days, the sky being almost continually covered with 
 a gloomy fog. England and Germany seem to have ex 
 
BAKON ISOTHSCHILD. 131 
 
 changed climates this year, for in the former country we 
 had delightfully clear weather. 
 
 I have seen the banker Rothschild Anselmo, the most 
 celebrated of the brothers several times driving about the 
 city. He is a little, bald-headed man, with marked Jewish 
 features, and is said not to deceive his looks. At any rate, 
 his reputation is none of the best, either with Jews or Chris 
 tians. A caricature was published some time ago, in which 
 he is represented as giving a beggar woman by the way 
 side a kreutzer the smallest German coin. She is made to 
 exclaim, " God reward you a thousand fold ! " He imme 
 diately replies, after reckoning up in his head, " How much 
 have I then ? sixteen florins and forty kreutzers ! " 
 
 One evening, after sunset, we took a stroll around the 
 promenades. The swans were still floating on the little 
 lake, and the American poplar beside it, was in its full 
 autumn livery. As we made the circuit of the walks, guns 
 were firing far and near, celebrating the opening of the vin 
 tage the next day, and rockets went glittering and sparkling 
 up into the dark air. Notwithstanding the late hour and 
 lowering sky, the walks were full of people, and we strolled 
 about with them until it grew quite dark, watching the fire 
 works which arose from the gardens around. The next day 
 we went into the Frankfort wood. A party of six Ameri 
 cans (all who are now in Frankfort), we walked over the 
 Main and through the dirty suburbs of Sachsenhausen, 
 where we met with many peasants laden with the first day s 
 vintage, and crowds of people coming down from the vine 
 yards. As we ascended the hill, the sound of muskets was 
 iieard in every direction, and from many vineyards arose 
 
L 32 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the smoke of fires, where groups of merry children were coL 
 lecting and burning the rubbish. We became lost among 
 the winding paths of the pine forest, so that by the time we 
 came out upon the eminence overlooking the valley of the 
 Main, it was quite dark. From every side, far and near, rock 
 ets of all sizes and colors darted high up into the sky. We 
 stopped under a garden wall, by which a laughing company 
 were assembled in the smoke and red blaze, and watched seve 
 ral comets go hissing and glancing far above us. The crack 
 ing of ammunition still continued, and when we came again 
 upon the bridge, the city opposite was lighted as if illumin 
 ated. The full moon had just risen, softening and mel 
 lowing the beautiful scene, while beyond, over the towers 
 of Frankfort, rose and fell the meteors that heralded the 
 vintage. 
 
 Since I have been in Frankfort, an event has occurred, 
 which shows very distinctly the principles at work in Ger 
 many, and gives us some foreboding of the future. Ferdi 
 nand Freiligrath, one of the most popular living poets, has 
 within a few weeks published a volume of poems entitled 
 " My Confessions of Faith, or Poems for the Times." It 
 contains some thrilling appeals to the free spirit of the Ger 
 man people, setting forth the injustice under which they 
 labor, in simple but powerful language, and with the most 
 forcible illustrations, adapted to the comprehension of every 
 one. Viewed as a work of genius aione, it is strikingly 
 powerful and original : but when we consider the effect it is 
 producing among the people the strength it will add to the 
 rising tide of opposition to every form of tyranny, it has a 
 still higher interest. Freiligrath had, three or four years 
 
THE I OET FREILIGRATH. 133 
 
 before, received a pension of three hundred thalers from the 
 King of Prussia, soon after his accession to the throne : he 
 ceased to draw this about a year ago, stating in the preface 
 to his volume that it was accepted in the belief that the 
 King would adhere to his promise of giving the people a 
 ^aew Constitution, but that now, since time has proved there 
 is no dependence to be placed on the King s word, he must 
 speak for his people and for his land. 
 
 The book has not only been prohibited, but Freiligrath 
 has exiled himself voluntarily, to escape imprisonment. He 
 is now in Paris, where the poets Heine and Herwegh, both 
 banished for the same reason, are living. The free spirit 
 which characterizes these men, who come from among the 
 people, shows plainly the tendency of the times ; and it is 
 only the great strength with which tyranny here has envi 
 roned itself, combined with the proverbial apathy of the 
 Germans, which has prevented a change ere this. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF STUDENT LIFE. 
 
 A. Walk to Heidelberg Winter Journey A CommerThe Bed Fisherman Th 
 Hall of Assembly The Students Songs and Speeches The Ceremony of the 
 LandtsfMher Gervinus and Schlosser A Duel at Neuenheim Its Kesult Charac 
 ter of the Students. 
 
 RECEIVING a letter from my cousin one bright December 
 morning, the idea of visiting him struck me, and so, within 
 an hour, B and I were on our way to Heidelberg. It 
 was delightful weather ; the air was mild as the early days 
 of spring, the pine forests around wore a softer green, and 
 though the sun was but a hand s breadth high, even at noon, 
 it was quite warm on the open road. We stopped for the 
 night at Bensheim ; and the next morning was as dark as a 
 cloudy day in the north can be, wearing a heavy gloom I 
 never saw elsewhere. The wind blew the snow down from 
 the summits upon us, but being warm from walking, we. did 
 not heed it. The mountains looked higher than in summer, 
 and the old castles more grim and frowning. From the hard 
 toads and freezing wind, my feet became very sore, and 
 
A COMMERS. 135 
 
 after limping along in excruciating pain for a league or two, 
 I poured some brandy into my boots, which deadened the 
 wounds so much, that I was enabled to go on in a kind of 
 trot, which I kept up, only stopping ten minutes to dinner, 
 until we reached Heidelberg. But I have not yet recovered 
 from the lameness which followed this performance. 
 
 The same evening there was to be a general commers, or 
 meeting of the societies among the students, and I determin 
 ed not to omit witnessing one of the most interesting and 
 characteristic features of student-life. So, borrowing a cap 
 and coat, I looked the student well enough to pass for one 
 of them, although the former article was somewhat of the 
 Philister form. Baader, a young poet of some note, and 
 president of the " Palatia" Society, having promised to take 
 us to the Commers, we met at eight o clock at an inn fre 
 quented by the students, and went to the rendezvous, near 
 the Markt Platz. 
 
 A confused sound of voices came from the inn, as we 
 drew near, and groups of students were standing around the 
 door. In the entrance hall we saw the Red Fisherman, one 
 of the most conspicuous characters about the University, 
 He is a small, stout man, with bare neck and breast, red 
 hair, whence his name, and a strange mixture of roughness 
 and benevolence in his countenance. He has saved many 
 persons at the risk of his own life, from drowning in the 
 Neckar, and on that account is leniently dealt with by the 
 faculty whenever he is arrested for assisting the students in 
 any of their unlawful proceedings. Entering the room I 
 could scarcely see at first, on account of the smoke that 
 ascended from a hundred pipes. All was noise and coufu- 
 
136 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sion. Near the door sat some half dozen musicians, who 
 were getting their instruments ready for action, and the 
 long room was filled with tables, all of which seemed to be 
 full, yet the students were still pressing in. The tables were 
 covered with great stone jugs and long beer glasses ; the 
 students were talking and shouting and drinking. One who 
 appeared to have the arrangement of the meeting, found 
 seats for us together, and having made a slight acquaintance 
 with those sitting next us, we felt more at liberty to witness 
 their proceedings. They were all talking in a sociable, 
 friendly way, and I saw no one who appeared to be intoxi 
 cated. The beer was a weak mixture, which I should think 
 would make one fall over from its weight, rather than its 
 intoxicating properties. Those sitting near me drank but 
 little, and that principally to make or return compliments. 
 One or two at the other end of the table were more bois 
 terous, and more than one glass was overturned upon their 
 legs. Leaves containing the songs for the evening lay at 
 each seat, and at the head, where the President sat, were 
 two swords crossed, with which he occasionally struck upon 
 the table to preserve order. Our President was a fine, 
 romantic-looking young man, dressed in the old German 
 costume, black beaver and plume, and velvet doublet with 
 slashed sleeves. I never saw in any company of young 
 men, so many handsome, manly countenances. If their 
 faces were any index of their characters, there were many 
 noble, free souls among them. Nearly opposite to me sat a 
 young poet, whose dark eyes flashed with feeling as he 
 spoke to those near him. After some time passed in talking 
 and drinking together, varied by an occasional air from the 
 
SONGS AND SPEECHES. 137 
 
 musicians, the President beat order with the sword, and the 
 whole company joined in one of their glorious songs, to a 
 melody at the same time joyous and solemn. Swelled by 
 so many manly voices it arose like a hymn of triumph 
 all other sounds were stilled. Three times during the 
 singing all rose to their feet, clashed their glasses together 
 around the tables and drank to their Fatherland, a health 
 and blessing to the patriot, and honor to those who struggle 
 in the cause of freedom. 
 
 After this song, the same order was continued as before, 
 except that students from the different societies made short 
 speeches, accompanied by some toast or sentiment. One 
 spoke of Germany predicting that all her dissensions would 
 be overcome, and she would arise at last, like a phoenix, 
 among the nations of Europe ; and at the close gave 
 " strong, united, regenerated Germany ! " Instantly all 
 sprang to their feet, and clashing the glasses together, gave 
 a thundering "hoch /" This enthusiasm for their country 
 is one of the strongest characteristics of the German stu 
 dents ; they have ever been first in the field for her freedom, 
 and on them mainly depends her future redemption. 
 
 Cloths were passed around, the tables wiped off, and 
 preparations made to sing the " Landsjather" or consecra 
 tion song. This is one of the most important and solemn 
 of their ceremonies, since by performing it the new students 
 are made bursckcn, and the bands of brotherhood continually 
 kept fresh and sacred. All became still a moment, then 
 commenced the lofty song : 
 
 "Silent bending, each one lending 
 To the solemn tones his ear, 
 
138 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Hark, the song of songs is sounding- 
 Back from joyful choir resounding, 
 Hear it, German brothers, hear I 
 
 * German proudly, raise it loudly, 
 
 Singing of your fatherland 
 Fatherland ! thou land of story, 
 To the altars of thy glory 
 
 Consecrate us, sword in hand ! 
 
 "Take the beaker, pleasure seeker, 
 
 With thy country s drink brimmed o er X 
 In thy left the sword is blinking, 
 Pierce it through the cap, while drinking 
 To thy Fatherland once more ! " 
 
 With the first line of the last stanza, the Presidents 
 sitting at the head of the table, take their glasses in their 
 right hands, and at the third line, the sword in their left, 
 at the end striking their glasses together and drinking. 
 
 " In left hand gleaming, thou art beaming, 
 
 Sword from all dishonor free ! 
 Thus I pierce the cap, while swearing, 
 It in honor ever wearing, 
 I a valiant Bursch will be ! " 
 
 They clash their swords together till the third line is 
 sung, when each takes his cap, and piercing the point of 
 the sword through the crown, draws it down to the guard. 
 Leaving their caps on the swords, the Presidents stand 
 behind the two next students, who go through the same 
 ceremony, receiving the swords at the appropriate time, and 
 giving them back loaded with their caps also. This cere- 
 
CEREMONY OF THE LANDSFATHER. 1^0 
 
 mony is going on at every table at the same time. These 
 two stanzas are repeated for every pair of students, till all 
 have performed it, and the Presidents have arrived at the 
 bottom of the table, with their swords strung full of caps. 
 Here they exchange swords, while all sing : 
 
 " Come, thou bright sword, now made holy, 
 
 Of free men the weapon free; 
 Bring it solemnly and slowly, 
 
 Heavy with pierced caps, to me! 
 From its burden now divest it ; 
 
 Brothers, be ye covered all, 
 
 And till our next festival, 
 Hallowed and unspotted rest it I 
 
 " Up, ye feast companions ! ever 
 
 Honor ye our holy band ! 
 And with heart and soul endeavor 
 
 E er as high-souled men to stand I 
 Up to feast, ye men united ! 
 
 Worthy be your fathers fame, 
 
 And the sword may no one claim, 
 Who to honor is not plighted 1" 
 
 Then each President, taking a cap off his sword, reaches 
 it to the student opposite, and they cross their swords, the 
 ends resting on the two students heads, while they sing the 
 next stanza : 
 
 " So take it back ; thy head I now will cover 
 
 And stretch the bright sword over. 
 Live also then this Bursche, hoch I 
 
 Wherever we may meet him, 
 
 Will we, as Brother, greet him 
 Live also this, our Brother, hoch 1 " 
 
140 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 This ceremony was repeated till all the caps were given 
 back, and they then concluded with the following i 
 
 " Rest, the Burschen-feast is over, 
 
 Hallowed sword, and thou art free! 
 Each one strive a valiant lover 
 
 Of his fatherland to be I 
 Hail to him, who, glory-haunted, 
 
 Follows still his fathers bold ; 
 
 And the sword may no one hold 
 But the noble and undaunted I " 
 
 The Landsfather being over, the students were less order 
 ly ; the smoking and drinking began again, and we left, as it 
 was already eleven o clock, glad to breathe the pure cold air. 
 
 In the University I heard Gervinus, who was formerly 
 professor in Gottingen, but was obliged to leave on account 
 of his liberal principles. He is much liked by the students, 
 and his lectures are very well attended. They had this 
 winter a torchlight procession in honor of him. He is a 
 stout, round-faced man, speaks very fast, and makes them 
 laugh continually with his witty remarks. In the room 1 
 saw a son of Riickert, the poet, with a face strikingly like 
 hi? father s. The next evening I went to hear Schlosser, 
 the great historian. Among his pupils are the two princes 
 of Baden, who are now at the University. He came hur 
 riedly in, threw down his portfolio and began instantly to 
 speak. He is an old, gray-headed man, but still active and 
 full of energy. The Germans find him exceedingly difficult 
 to understand, as the construction of his sentences is said to 
 be English rather than German ; for this reason, perhaps, 
 
A DUEL. 141 
 
 I understood him quite easily. He lectures on the French 
 Revolution, but is engaged in writing a Universal History, 
 the first numbers of which are published. 
 
 Two or three days after, we heard that a duel was to take 
 place at Neuenheim, on the opposite side of the Neckar, 
 where the students have a house hired for that purpose. 
 In order to witness the spectacle, we started immediately 
 with two or three students. Along the road were stationed 
 old women, at intervals, as guards, to give notice of the ap 
 proach of the police, and from these we learned that one duel 
 had already been fought, and they were preparing for the 
 other. The Red Fisherman was busy in an outer room grind 
 ing the swords, which are made as sharp as razors. In the 
 large room some forty or fifty students were walking about, 
 while the parties were preparing. This was done by taking 
 off the coat and vest, and binding on a great thick leather gar 
 ment, which reached from the breast to the knees, completely 
 protecting the body. They then put on a leather glove reach 
 ing nearly to the shoulder, tied a thick cravat around the 
 throat, and donned a cap with a large vizor. This done, they 
 were walked about the room a short time, the seconds holding 
 out their arms to strengthen them j their faces all this time 
 betrayed considerable anxiety. 
 
 All being ready, the seconds took their stations imme 
 diately behind them, each armed with a sword, and gave 
 the words : " ready bind your weapons loose /" They 
 instantly sprang at each other, exchanged two or three 
 blows, when the seconds cried "halt!" and struck their 
 swords up. Twenty-four rounds of this kind ended the duel, 
 without either being hurt, though the cap of one of them was 
 
142 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 cut through and his forehead grazed. All their duels do not 
 end so fortunately, however, as the frightful scars on the 
 faces of many of those present testified. It is a gratification 
 to know that but a small portion of the students keep up this 
 barbarous custom. In Heidelberg, four societies, comprising 
 more than one half the students, have been formed to discon 
 tinue it. A strong desire for such a reform seems to prevail, 
 and the custom will probably be totally discontinued in a 
 short time. 
 
 This view of the student-life was very interesting to me ; 
 it appeared in a much better light than I had been accus 
 tomed to regard it. Their peculiar customs, except duelling 
 and excessive drinking, of course, may be the better tole 
 rated when we consider the stand which they have taken 
 for the liberty of Germany, It is principally through them 
 that a free spirit is kept alive ; they have ever been foremost 
 to rise up for their Fatherland, and bravest in its defence. 
 And though many of their customs have so often been held 
 up to ridicule, among no other class can one find warmer 
 truer, or braver hearts. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CHRISTMAS AND NEW-YEAR IN GERMANY. 
 
 First Six Months Abroad Prospects for the Future Christmas In 
 Germany The Christmas Booths Visit of St. Nicholas Preparations for Christ 
 masExcitement among the Children Christmas Eve The Christmas Tree 
 Poetry of the Festival Welcome to the New Year Scene in the Streets. 
 
 FRANKFORT, January 2, 1845. 
 
 I have lately been computing how much my travels have 
 cost me up to the present time, and how long I can remain 
 abroad to continue the pilgrimage, with my present expecta 
 tions. The result has been most encouraging to my plan. 
 Before leaving home, I wrote to several gentlemen who had 
 visited Europe, asking the probable expense of travel and 
 residence abroad. They sent different accounts ; one said I 
 must calculate to spend at least SI 500 a year ; another 
 suggested $1000, and the most moderate of all, said that it 
 was impossible to live in Europe a year on less than $500. 
 Now, six months have elapsed since I left home six 
 months of greater pleasure and profit than any two years 
 of my former life and my expenses, in full, amount to 
 $130 The sum with which I left home will soon be 
 
144 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 exhausted, it is true, but as the letters which I have sent 
 to the Gazette and Post have proved acceptable, I trust to 
 receive a remittance shortly, in continuance of the engage- 
 ment. I find that it would be almost useless for me to 
 endeavor to obtain employment as a printer, as the wages 
 are comparatively small, and the trade is overstocked with 
 workmen. Besides, after a tough grapple, I am just begin 
 ning to feel at home in German literature, and ,am so fasci 
 nated with the wonderful field it opens to me, that I would 
 rather undergo considerable privation than give up my 
 regular hours of daily study. 
 
 We have lately witnessed the most beautiful and interest 
 ing of all German festivals Christinas which is celebrated 
 in a stylo truly characteristic of the people. About the 
 commencement of December, the Christmarkt, or fair, was 
 opened in the Romerberg, and has continued to the present 
 time. The booths, decorated with green boughs, were filled 
 with toys of various kinds, among which, during the first 
 days, the figure of St. Nicholas was conspicuous. There 
 were bunches of wax candles to illuminate the Christmas 
 tree, gingerbread with printed mottoes in poetry, beautiful 
 little earthenware, basket-work, and a wilderness of play 
 things. The fifth of December, being Nicholas evening, 
 the booths were lighted up, and the square was filled with 
 boys, running from one stand to another, all shouting and 
 talking together in the most joyous confusion. Nurses were 
 going around, carrying the smaller children in their arms, 
 and parents bought presents decorated with sprigs of pine 
 and carried them away. Some of the shops exhibited very 
 beautiful toys, as for instance, a whole grocery store in 
 
VISIT OP ST. NICHOLAS. 145 
 
 miniature, with barrels, boxes, and drawers, filled with 
 sweetmeats, a kitchen with a stove and all suitable utensils, 
 which could readily be used, and sets of dishes of the most 
 diminutive patterns. 
 
 Many of the tables had bundles of rods with gilded bands, 
 which were to be used that evening by the persons who 
 represented St. Nicholas. In the family with whom we 
 reside, one of our German friends dressed himself very 
 grotesquely, with a mask, fur robe, and long tapering cap He 
 came in with a bunch of rods, a sack, and a broom for a 
 sceptre. After we all had received our share of the beating, 
 he threw the contents of his bag on the table, and while we 
 were scrambling for the nuts and apples, gave us many smart 
 raps over the fingers. In many families the children are made 
 to say, " I thank you, Herr Nicholas," and the rods are hung 
 up in the room until Christmas, to keep them in good 
 behavior. This was only a forerunner of the Christ-kind- 
 chen s coming. The Nicolaus is the punishing spirit, the 
 Christ-kindchen the rewarding one. 
 
 When this time was over, we all began preparing secretly 
 our presents for Christmas. Every day there were consulta 
 tions about the things which should be obtained. It was so 
 arranged that all should interchange presents, but nobody 
 must know beforehand what he would receive. What 
 pleasure there was in all these secret purchases and prepara 
 tions ! Scarcely anything was thought or spoken of but 
 Christmas, and every day the consultations became more 
 numerous and secret. The trees were bought some time be 
 forehand, but as we Americans were to witness the festival 
 for the first time, we were not allowed to see them prepared, 
 
 7 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 in order that the effect might be as great as possible. The 
 market in the Romerberg Square grew constantly larger and 
 more brilliant. Every night it was illuminated with lamps 
 and thronged with people. Quite a forest sprang up in the 
 street before our door. The old stone house opposite, with 
 the traces of so many centuries on its dark face, seemed to 
 stand in the midst of a garden. It was a pleasure to go out 
 every evening and see the children rushing to and fro, 
 shouting and selecting toys from the booths, and talking all 
 the time of the Christinas that was so near. The poor 
 people went by with their little presents hid under their 
 cloaks, lest their children might see them ; every heart was 
 glad and every countenance wore a smile of secret pleasure. 
 Finally, the day before Christmas arrived. The streets 
 were so full I could scarce make my way through, and the 
 sale of trees went on more rapidly than ever. These were 
 usually branches of pine or fir, set upright in a little minia 
 ture garden of moss. When the lamps were lighted at night. 
 our street had the appearance of an illuminated garden. 
 We were prohibited from entering the rooms up stairs in 
 which the grand ceremony was to take place, being obliged 
 to take our seats in those arranged for the guests, and wait 
 with impatience the hour when Christ-kindchen should call. 
 Several relatives of the family came, and what was more 
 agreeable, they brought with them five or six children. I 
 was anxious to see how they would view the ceremony. 
 Finally, in the midst of an interesting conversation, we heard 
 the bell ringing at the head of the stairs. We all started up, 
 and made for the door. I ran up the steps with the children 
 at my heels, and at the top met a blaze of dazzling light 
 
POETRY OP THE FESTIVAL. 147 
 
 coming from the open door. In each room stood a great 
 table, on which the presents were arranged, amid flowers 
 and wreaths. From the centre rose the beautiful Christmas 
 tree, covered with wax tapers to the very top, which made 
 it nearly as light as day, while every bough was hung with 
 sweetmeats and gilded nuts. The children ran shouting 
 around the table, hunting their presents, while the older per 
 sons had theirs pointed out to them. I had a little library 
 of German authors as my share ; and many of the others 
 received quite valuable gifts. 
 
 But how beautiful was the heartfelt joy that shone on 
 every countenance ! As each one discovered his presents 
 he embraced the givers, and it was a scene of unmingled joy. 
 It is a glorious feast, this Christmas time ! What a chorus 
 from happy hearts went up on that evening to Heaven ! 
 Full of poetry and feeling and glad associations, it is here 
 anticipated with delight, and leaves a pleasant memory be 
 hind it. We may laugh at such simple festivals at home, 
 and prefer to shake ourselves loose from every shackle that 
 bears the rust of the Past, but we would certainly be 
 happier if some of these beautiful old customs were better 
 honored. They renew the bond of feeling between families 
 and friends, and strengthen their kindly sympathy ; even 
 lifelong associates require occasions of this kind to freshen 
 the tie that binds them together. 
 
 New Year s Eve is also favored with a peculiar celebra 
 tion in Germany. Every body remains up and makes him 
 self merry until midnight. The Christmas trees are again 
 lighted, and while the tapers are burning out the family play 
 for articles which they have purchased and hung on the 
 
148 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 boughs. It is so arranged that each one shall win as much 
 as he gives, and the change of articles creates much amuse 
 ment. One of the ladies rejoiced in the possession of a red 
 silk handkerchief and a cake of soap, while a cup and saucer 
 and a pair of scissors fell to my lot. As midnight drew near, 
 the noise became louder in the streets, and companies of 
 people, some of them singing in chorus, passed by on their 
 way to the Zeil. Finally, three-quarters struck, the windows 
 were opened, and every one waited anxiously for the clock 
 to strike. At the first sound, such a cry arose as one may 
 imagine, when thirty or forty thousand persons all set their 
 lungs going at once. Every body in the house, in the street, 
 over the whole city, shouted, " Prossl Neu Jalir /" In 
 families, all the members embrace each other, with wishes of 
 happiness for the new year. Then the windows are thrown 
 open, and they cry to their neighbors or those passing by. 
 After we had exchanged congratulations, three of us set 
 out for the Zeil. The streets were full of people, shouting 
 to one another and to those standing at the open windows. 
 We failed not to cry " Prosst Neu Jahr f" wherever we saw 
 a damsel at the window, and the words came back to us more 
 musically than we sent them. Along the Zeil the spectacle 
 was most singular. The great wide street was filled with 
 companies of men, marching up and down, while from the 
 mass rang up one deafening, unending shout, that seemed to 
 pierce the black sky above. The whole scene looked 
 stranger and wilder in the flickering light of the swinging 
 lamps, and I could not help thinking it must resemble a night 
 in Paris during the French devolution. 
 
CHAPTER XT. 
 
 INCIDENTS OP A WINTER IN FRANKJORT. 
 
 Sports on the Ice Lessing s Picture of Huss The Eschernheim Tower Severity 
 of the Winter Sufferings of Men and Beasts My Winter Life Matteus and th 
 Stove Hopes of Spring The Fair Picturesque Crowds A Vender of Blacking 
 Rise of the Main The City Inundated Sachsenhausen under Water A Day of 
 Sunshine Faces in the Streets German Beauty The Flood Increases Devasta 
 tion The Eiver Falls An Explosion German Fire-Engines and Firemen. 
 
 AFTER New Year, the Main, just above the city, and the 
 lakes in the promenades, were frozen over. The ice was 
 tried by the police, and having been found of sufficient 
 thickness, to the great joy of the schoolboys, permission was 
 given to skate. The lakes were soon covered with merry 
 skaters, and every afternoon the banks were crowded with 
 spectators. It was a lively sight to see two or three hun 
 dred persons darting about, turning and crossing like a flock 
 of crows, while, by means of arm-chairs mounted on runners, 
 the ladies were enabled to join in the sport, and whirl 
 around among them. Some of the broad meadows near the 
 city, which were covered with ice, were the resort of the 
 
150 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 schools. I went there often in my walks, and always found 
 two or three schools, with the teachers, all skating together, 
 and playing their winter games on the ice. I have often 
 seen them on the meadows along the Main, and the teachers 
 were generally quite as boisterous as the scholars in their 
 sports. 
 
 In the Art Institute I saw the picture of " Huss before 
 the Council of Constance," by the painter Lessing. It con 
 tains upwards of twenty figures. The artist has shown the 
 greatest skill in the expression and grouping of these. Bish 
 ops and Cardinals in their splendid robes are seated around 
 a table, covered with parchment folios, and before them 
 stands Huss alone. His face is pale and thin with long im 
 prisonment ; he has lain one hand on his breast, while with 
 the other he grasps one of the volumes on the table ; there 
 is an air of majesty, of heavenly serenity, on his lofty fore 
 head and in his calm eye. One feels instinctively that he 
 has truth on his side. There can be no deception, no false 
 hood in those noble features. The three Italian cardinals 
 before him appear to be full of passionate rage ; the bishop 
 in front, who holds the imperial pass given to Huss, looks 
 on with an expression of scorn, and the priests around have 
 an air of mingled curiosity and hatred. There is one, how 
 ever, in whose mild features and tearful eye is expressed 
 sympathy and pity for the prisoner. It is said this picture 
 has had a great effect upon Catholics who have seen it, in 
 softening the bigotry with which they regarded the early 
 reformers ; and if so, it is a triumphant proof how much 
 Art can effect in the cause of truth and humanity. 
 
 The Eschernheim Tower, at the entrance of one of the 
 
THE ESCIIKKNIIEIM TOWER. 15 J 
 
 city gates, is universally admired by strangers, on account 
 of its picturesque appearance, overgrown with ivy and ter 
 minated by the little pointed turrets, which one sees so 
 often in Germany, on buildings three or four centuries old, 
 There are five other watch-towers of similar form, which 
 stand on different sides of the city, at the distance of a mile 
 or two, and generally upon an eminence overlooking the 
 country. They were erected several centuries ago, to dis 
 cern from afar the approach of an enemy, and protect the 
 caravans of merchants, which at that time travelled from 
 city to city, from the attacks of robbers. The Eschern- 
 heim Tower is interesting from another circumstance, 
 which, whether true or not, is universally believed. When 
 Frankfort was under the sway of a prince, a Swiss hunter, 
 for some civil offence, was condemned to die. lie begged 
 his life from the prince, who granted it only on condition that 
 he should fire the figure 9 with his rifle through the vane 
 of this tower. He agreed, and did it ; and at the present 
 time, one can distinguish a rude 9 on the vane, as if cut 
 with bullets, while two or three marks at the side appear to 
 be from stray shots. 
 
 The promise of spring, which lately visited us, was no\ 
 destined for fulfilment. Shortly afterwards it grew cold 
 again, with a succession of snows and sharp northerly winds. 
 Such weather at the commencement of spring is not uncom 
 mon in America ; but here they say there has not been such 
 a winter known for a hundred and fifty years. In the north 
 of Prussia many persons have been starved to death on ac 
 count of provisions becoming scarce. Among the Hartz 
 also, the suffering is very great. We saw something of the 
 
152 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 misery even here. It was painful to walk through thft 
 streets and see so many faces bearing plainly the marks of 
 want, so many pale, hollow-eyed creatures, with suffering 
 written on every feature. We were assailed with petitions 
 for help, which could not be relieved, though it pained and 
 saddened the heart to deny. The women, too, labor like 
 brutes, day after day. Many of them appear cheerful 
 and contented, and are, no doubt, tolerably happy, for the 
 Germans have all true, warm hearts, and are faithful to one 
 another, as far as poverty will permit ; but one cannot see 
 old, grey-headed women, carrying loads on their heads as 
 heavy as themselves, exposed to all kinds of weather and 
 working from morning till night, without pity and indig 
 nation. 
 
 So unusually severe has been the weather, that the deer 
 and hares in the mountains near, came nearly starved, and 
 quite tamed by hunger, into the villages to hunt food. The 
 people fed them every day, and also carried grain into the 
 fields for the partridges and pheasants, which flew up to 
 them like domestic fowls. The poor ravens made me really 
 sad ; some lay dead in the fields and many came into the 
 city perfectly tame, flying along the Main with wings hardly 
 strong enough to bear up their skeleton bodies. The storks 
 came at the usual time, but went back again. I hope the 
 year s blessing has not departed with them, according to the 
 old German superstition. 
 
 I have passed the winter days in an almost unbroken 
 routine of study, relieved by a daily stroll through the city 
 and suburbs, with an occasional visit to the Opera, the An 
 Institute, the Library and Museum, or a cheerful social even- 
 
MY WINTER LIFE. 153 
 
 ing in the family of Herr $ . Frankfort is now as fami 
 liar to me as my own home, and I have so completely 
 adopted the (ierman nature that I have totally lost the con 
 sciousness of being a foreigner. I begin to long for the 
 spring, in order to shoulder my knapsack once more, and 
 wander off to the thousand marvels of Europe which yet 
 remain unseen. A letter from home, received not long since, 
 brings me a welcome remittance of one hundred dollars, and 
 I can now look forward confidently to seeing the whole of 
 Germany as well a^ Switzerland. Of this sum, half was 
 advanced by Mr. Patterson, for a further batch of twelve 
 letters, and the other half by Mr. Graham, for some poems 
 which I forwarded to him. The former gentleman has also 
 agreed to continue his engagement for the remainder of my 
 stay in Europe. Thank (ind. all my hazards art 4 now over ! 
 The experiment is successful ; and I only need to exercise 
 strict economy perhaps endure a little privation to accom 
 plish all I have undertaken. 
 
 We have suffered somewhat from the cold this white* 
 The room is heated by an immense earthenware stove, which 
 gives out little warmth until it has devoured much fuel, and 
 fuel is very expensive here. Besides, the draught is very 
 imperfect, and sometimes our fire will not burn at all. The 
 knecht (man-servant) of Herr S , a moon-faced, blue- 
 eyed Suabian, named Matteus, exhausts nrmch of his energy 
 upon our stove, and nothing can exceed his grin of triumph 
 when, after an hour s labor, he pops his flaming face in at 
 the door, points to the huge mass of earthenware, and 
 exclaims: Da ist s ! da ist s /" (There it is !) Matteus 
 
 sometimes hears Herr 8 s bony old schimmel in his 
 
 7* 
 
154 VIKWS A-F9OT, 
 
 antiquated carriage, and drives us four Americans Mr. Wil 
 lis, his brother-in-law, Mr. Dennet, B and myself around 
 
 the suburbs. Nothing can exceed his gravity and dignity 
 on such occasions. There is no other Jsnecht in Frankfort 
 who can drive four Americans through the streets, and Mat 
 teus feels all the responsibility of his position. A r e are also 
 great favorites with all the old market-women m our street, 
 who call me " the tall American," and Willis " the handsome 
 
 American," while Ilerr S s house is known as "the 
 
 American Colony. * 
 
 MarcK J6. 
 
 We have hopes of Spring at last. Three days ago thci 
 rain began, and has continued with little intermission until 
 now. The air is warm, the snow melts, and every thing 
 seems to announce that the long winter is breaking up. 
 The Main rises fast, and rushes by the city like an arrow, 
 whirling large masses of ice upon the banks. The hills 
 around are coming out from under the snow, and the lilac- 
 buds in the promenades begin to expand for the second time. 
 
 The Fair has now commenced in earnest, and it is a most 
 singular and interesting sight. The open squares are filled 
 with booths, leaving narrow streets between them, across 
 which canvas is spread. Every booth is open, and filled 
 with a dazzling display of wares of all kinds. Merchants 
 assemble from all parts of Europe. The Bohemians come 
 with their gorgeous crystal ware ; the Nurembergers with 
 their toys, quaint and fanciful as the old city itself; men 
 from the Thiiringian forest, with minerals and canes, and 
 
I ICTrKK>ijl K CKU\\ M. 155 
 
 traders from Berlin, Vienna, Paris, and Switzerland, with 
 dry-goods and wares of all kinds. Near the Exchange are 
 two or three companies of Tyrolese, who attract much of my 
 attention. Their costume is exceedingly picturesque. The 
 men have all splendid manly figures, and honor and bravery 
 are written on their countenances. One of the girls is a 
 charming mountain maiden, and with her pointed, broad- 
 Immmcd black bat, as romantic in appearance as one could 
 Irsire. The musicians have arrived, and we are entertained 
 the whole day long by wandering bands, some of which play 
 ! -v finely. The best, which is also the favorite company, 
 is from Saxony, called "The Mountain Boys." They are 
 now playing in our street, and while I write, one of the 
 i.eautiful airs of Norma comes nj through the din of the 
 r\\d. In tact, music is heard all over the city, and the 
 throngs that fill every street with their variety of faces and 
 dre>M--. -omrwhat relieve the monotony that was beginning 
 to mak" Frankfort tiresome. 
 
 We have an ever -varied and interesting scene from our 
 window. Besides the motley crowd of passers-by, there are 
 .is and tallies stationed thick below. One man in par- 
 :icular is busily engage. 1 in selling his store of blacking in the 
 auction style, in a manner that would do credit to a real 
 1 own-raster. He has flaming certificates exhibited, and 
 prefaces bis calls to buy with a high-sounding description of 
 li* wonderful qualities. He has a bench in front, where he 
 is : < ; :i the shoes of his customers, or if none of these are 
 is|..;c I to try it, on his own, which shine like mirrors. So 
 * on with am:. /ing fluency in French, German, and 
 1 -b .s, with iiib Hack hir.ird and moustache, and 
 
156 VIEWS A-FOOI. 
 
 his polite, graceful manner, keeps a crowd of customers 
 around him, so that ttie wonderful blacking goes off as fast 
 as he can supply it. 
 
 April fc 
 
 Old Winter s gates are shut close behind us, and the HUH 
 looks down with his summer countenance. The air, after 
 the long cold rain, is like that of Paradise. All things are 
 gay and bright, and every body is in motion. Spring com 
 menced with yesterday in earnest, and lo ! before night the 
 roads were dry and fine as if there had been no rain for a 
 month ; and the gardeners dug and planted in ground which, 
 eight days before, was covered with snow ! 
 
 After having lived through the longest winter here, for 
 une hundred and fifty years, we were destined to witness the 
 greatest flood for sixty, and little lower than any within the 
 last three hundred years. On the 28th of March, the river 
 overflooded the high pier along the Main, and rising higher 
 and higher, began to come into the gates and alleys. Before 
 night the whole bank was covered, and the water intruded 
 into some of the booths in the Romerberg. When I went 
 there the next morning, it was a sorrowful sight. Persons 
 were inside the gate with boats ; so rapidly had it risen, 
 that many of the merchants had no time to move their wares, 
 nd must suffer great damage. They were at work rescuing 
 what property could be seized in haste, and constructing 
 passages into the houses which were surrounded. No one 
 teemed to think of buying or selling, but only on the best 
 method of escaping the danger. Along the Mnin it was still 
 
1IIK CITY INUNDATED. 157 
 
 worse. From the water-gauge, it had risen seventeen feet 
 above its usual level, and the arches of the bridge were filled 
 nearly to the top. At the Upper-Main gate, every thing 
 Nta Hooded houses, gardens, workshops, c. ; the water 
 had even overrun the meadows above and attacked the city 
 from behind, so that a part of the beautiful promenades lay 
 deep under water. < )n the other >ide, we could see houses 
 standing in it up to the roof. It came up through the sewers 
 into the, middle of Frankfort ; a large body of men were 
 kept at work constructing slight bridges to walk on, and 
 transporting boats to places where they were needed. This 
 w ;l s all done at the BXpdftMJ of the city, and the, greatest 
 readiness was everywhere manifested to render all possible 
 a fiance. In the Fischer^a^e. I saw them taking provi 
 sions to tlie people in boats ; one man even fastened a loaf 
 of bread to the end of a broomstick and reached it across the 
 narrow street from an upper story window, to the neighbor 
 opposite. News came that Hans n, a village towards the 
 Taunus, about two miles distant, was quite under water, and 
 that the people clung to the roofs and cried for help; but it 
 w,-is fortunately false. About noon, cannon shots were 
 heard, and twenty boats were sent out from the city. 
 
 In the afternoon I ascended the tower of the Cathedral, 
 which commands a wide view of the valley, up and down. 
 Just above the city the plain resembled a small lake be 
 tween two and three miles wide. A row of new-built housen 
 stretched into it like a long promontory, and in the middle, 
 like an island, stood a country-seat with large out-buildings 
 The river sent a long arm out below, that readied up through 
 the meadows behind the city, as if to clasp it all and bear \l 
 
158 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 away together. A heavy storm was raging along the 
 extent of the Taunus ; but a rainbow stood in the eastern 
 Bky. I thought of its promise, and hoped, for the sake of 
 the hundreds of poor people who were suffering by the 
 waters, that it might herald their fall. 
 
 We afterwards went over to Sachsenhausen, which was, it 
 possible, in a still more unfortunate condition. The water 
 had penetrated the passages and sewers, and from these 
 leaped and rushed up into the streets, as out of a fountain. 
 The houses next to the Main, which were first filled, poured 
 torrents out of the doors and windows into the street 
 below. These people were nearly all poor, and could ill 
 afford the loss of time and damage of property. The stream 
 was filled with wood and boards, and even whole roofs, with 
 the tiles on, went floating down. The bridge was crowded 
 with people : one saw everywhere mournful countenances, 
 and heard lamentations over the catastrophe. After sunset, 
 a great cloud, filling half the sky, hung above ; the reflec 
 tion of its glowing crimson tint, joined to the brown hue of 
 the water, made the river seem like a current of fire. 
 
 What a difference a little sunshine makes ! I could have 
 forgotten the season the next day, but for the bare trees and 
 swelling Main, as I threaded my way through the hundreds 
 of people who thronged its banks. It was that soft warmth 
 that comes with the first spring days, relaxing the body and 
 casting a dreamy hue over the mind. I leaned over the 
 bridge in the full enjoyment of it, and listening to the roar 
 ing of the water under the arches, forgot every thing else for 
 a time. It was amusing to walk up and down the pier and 
 look at the countenances passing by, while the fancy was 
 
FACES IN THE STREET. 169 
 
 ever ready, weaving a tale for each. My favorite Tyrolesc 
 were there, and I saw a Greek leaning over the stone balus 
 trade, wearing the red cap and white frock, and with the 
 long dark hair and fiery eye of the Orient. 1 could not but 
 wonder, as he looked at the dim hills of the Odenwald, 
 along the eastern horizon, whether they called up in hia 
 mind the purple isles of his native Archipelago. 
 
 The general character of a nation is plainly stamped on 
 the countenances of its people. One who notices the faces 
 in the streets, can soon distinguish, by the glance he gives 
 in passing, the Englishman or the Frenchman from the 
 German, and the Christian from the Jew. Not less striking 
 is the difference of expression between the Germans them* 
 selves; and in places where all classes of people are drawn 
 together, it is interesting to observe how accurately these 
 distinctions are drawn. The boy have generally handsome- 
 intelligent faces, and like all boys, they are full of life and 
 spirit, for they know nothing of the laws by which their 
 country is chained down, and would not care for them, if 
 they did. But with the exception of the students, who talk, 
 at least, of Liberty and Right, the young men lose this spirit, 
 and at last settle down into the calm, cautious, apathetic citi 
 zen. One distinguishes an Englishman or an American, also, 
 in this respect, very easily ; the former, moreover, by a cer 
 tain cold stateliness and reserve. There is something, how. 
 ever, about a Jew, whether English or German, which dis 
 tinguishes him from all others. However different their 
 faces, there is a family character which runs through the 
 whole of them. It lies principally in their high cheek 
 bones, prominent nose, and thin, compressed lips ; which, ea- 
 
160 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 pecially in elderly men, gives a peculiar miserly expression 
 that is unmistakable 
 
 I regret to say, one looks almost in vain, in Germany, foi 
 a handsome female countenance. Here and there, perhaps, 
 is a woman with regular features, but that intellectual ex 
 pression, which gives such a charm to the most common face, 
 is wanting. I have seen more beautiful women in one night, 
 in a public assembly in America, than during the seven 
 months I have been on the Continent. Some of the young 
 Jewesses, in Frankfort, are considered handsome, but their 
 features soon become too strongly marked. In a public 
 walk the number of positively ugly faces is really asto 
 nishing. 
 
 About ten o clock that night, I heard a noise of persons 
 running in the street, and going to the Romerberg, found the 
 water had risen, all at once, much higher, and was still rapid 
 ly increasing. People were setting up torches and length 
 ening the rafts, which had been already formed. The lower 
 part of the city was a real Venice the streets were full of 
 boats, and people could even row about in their own houses ; 
 though it was not quite so bad as the flood in Georgia, where 
 they went up stairs to bed in boats ! Persons were calling 
 in all directions " The water ! the water ! it rises continu 
 ally !" The river rushed through the arches of the bridge, 
 foaming and dashing with a noise like thunder, and the red 
 light of the torches along the shore cast a flickering glare on 
 the troubled waves. It was then twenty-one feet above its 
 usual level. Men were busy all around, carrying boats and 
 ladders to the places most threatened, or emptying cellars 
 into which it was penetrating. The sudden swelling was 
 
AN EXPLOSION. 161 
 
 occasioned by the coming down of the floods from the moun 
 tains of Spessart. 
 
 Part of the upper quay cracked next morning and 
 threatened to fall in, and one of the projecting piers of the 
 bridge sank away three or four inches from the main body. 
 In Sachsenhausen the desolation occasioned by the flood is 
 absolutely frightful ; several houses have fallen into total 
 ruin. All business was stopped for the day ; the Exchange 
 was even shut up. As the city depends almost entirely on 
 pumps for its supply of water, and these were filled with the 
 flood, we have been drinking the muddy current of the Main 
 ever since. The damage to goods is very great. The fair 
 was stopped at once, and the loss in this respect alone, must 
 be several millions of florins. The water began to fall on 
 the 1st, and has now sunk about ten feet, so that most of 
 the houses are again released, though in a bad condition. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon, as I was sitting in my room, writing, 
 I heard all at once an explosion like a cannon in the street, 
 followed by loud and continued screams. Looking out of 
 the window, I saw the people rushing by with goods in 
 their arms, some wringing their hands and crying, others 
 running in all directions. Imagining that it was nothing 
 less than the tumbling down of one of the old houses, we 
 ran down and saw a shop a few doors off, wrapped in flames. 
 The windows were bursting out, and the mingled mass of 
 smoke and red flame reached half way across the street 
 We learned afterwards that it was occasioned by the explo 
 sion of a jar of naphtha, which instantly enveloped the whole 
 room in fire, the people barely escaping in time. The per 
 sons who had booths near were standing still in despair 
 
102 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 while the flames were beginning to touch their property. -A 
 few butchers who first came up, did almost everything. A 
 fire-engine arrived soon, but it was ten minutes before it 
 began to play, and by that time the flames were coming out 
 of the upper stories. Then the supply of water soon failed, 
 and though another engine came up shortly after, it was 
 some time before it could be put in order, so that by the time 
 they got fairly to work, the fire had made its way nearly 
 through the house. The water was first brought in barrels 
 drawn by horses, until some officer came and opened the 
 fire-plug. The police were busy at work seizing those who 
 came by and setting them to work ; and as the alarm had 
 drawn a great many together, they at last began to effect 
 something. All the military are obliged to turn out, and the 
 officers appeared eager to use their authority while they 
 could, for every one was ordering and commanding, till it 
 became a scene of perfect confusion and uproar. I could not 
 help laughing heartily, so ludicrous was the spectacle. 
 There were little miserable engines, not much bigger than a 
 hand-cart, and looking as if they had not been used for half 
 a century, the horses running backwards and forwards. 
 dragging barrels which were emptied into tubs, after which 
 the water was finally dipped up in buckets, and emptied 
 into the engines ! These machines can only play into the 
 second or third story, after which the hose was taken up 
 into the houses on the opposite side of the street, and made 
 to play across. After four hours the fire was overcome, the 
 house being thoroughly burnt out ; it happened to have 
 double fire-walls, which prevented the adjoining buildings 
 from catching easily. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SPEAKING DEAF MENDELSOHN. 
 
 The Beauty of Spring Th.- Frankfort Cemetery Precaution* against Burying 
 Alivr -Moiiiini.-Mt l,y Th.irwjiUlscn The Speaking Deaf Manner of Healing them 
 Story of a Boy Tin-. Hall of the Kmprrnr* Mi-ndelssohn, the Composer Seeinp 
 him in a Crowd Interview with him His Personal Appearance and Conversation 
 
 FRANKFORT, April 20, 1845. 
 
 IT is now a luxury to breathe. These spring clays are the 
 perfection of delightful weather. Imagine the delicious 
 temperature of our Indian summer joined to the life and 
 freshness of spring, add to this a sky of the purest azure, 
 and a breeze filled with the odor of violets, the mosf 
 exquisite of all perfumes, and you will have some idea of 
 it. The meadows are beginning to bloom, and I have 
 already heard the larks singing high up in the sky. Those 
 sacred birds, the storks, have returned and taken possession 
 of their old nests on the chimney-tops. They are some 
 times seen walking about in the fields, with a very grave 
 and serious air, as if conscious of the estimation in which 
 they are held. Everybody is out in the open air; the 
 woods, although they still look wintry, are filled with 
 
164 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 people, and the boatmen on the Main are busy ferrying ga} 1 
 parties across. The spring has been so long in coining, 
 that all are determined to enjoy it well while it last-. 
 
 We visited the Cemetery a few days ago. The dead 
 house, where corpses are placed in the hope of resuscita 
 tion, is an appendage to cemeteries found only in Germany. 
 We were shown into a narrow chamber, on each side of 
 which were six cells, into which one could distinctly see, by 
 means of a large plate of glass. Tn each of these is a bier 
 for the body, directly above which hangs a cord, having on 
 the end ten thimbles, which are put upon the fingers of the 
 corpse, BO that the slightest motion strikes a bell in the 
 watchman s room. Lamps are lighted at night, and in 
 winter the rooms are warmed. Tn the watchman s chamber 
 stands a clock with a dial of twenty-four hours, and oppo 
 site every hour is a little plate, which can only be moved 
 two minutes before it strikes. If then the watchman lias 
 slept or neglected his duty at that time, he cannot move it 
 afterwards, and his neglect is seen by the superintendent. 
 In such case, he is severely fined, and for the second or 
 third offence, dismissed. There are other rooms adjoining, 
 containing beds, baths, galvanic battery, &c. Nevertheless, 
 they say there has been no resuscitation during the fifteen 
 years since the Cemetery has been opened. 
 
 We afterwards went to the end of the Cemetery to see 
 the bas-reliefs of Thorwaldsen, in the vault of the Bethmann 
 family. They are three in number, representing the death 
 of a son of the present banker, Moritz von Bethinann, who 
 was drowned in the Arno about fourteen years ago. The 
 middle one represents the young man drooping in his chair, 
 
THE SPEAKING DEAF. 165 
 
 the beautiful Greek Angel of Death standing at his back, 
 with one arm over his shoulder, while his younger brother 
 is sustaining him, and receiving the wreath that drops from 
 his sinking hand. The young woman who showed us these 
 told us of Thorwaldsen s visit to Frankfort, about three 
 years ago. She described him as a beautiful and venerable 
 old man, with long white l.u-ks hanging over his shoulder, 
 and still vigorous and active fur hi-* vcars. There seems to 
 have been mm-h resemblance between him and Dannecker 
 not only in personal appearance and character, but in the 
 simple and classical beauty of their works. 
 
 < >n our return to the city we visited the Institute for the 
 Deaf; for by the n -w method of teaching they arc no longer 
 ilnmh. It is a hands., me building in the gardens skirting the 
 city. We applied, and on learning we were strangers, they 
 gave us permission to enter. The instructress took us into 
 a room where about fifteen small children were assembled, 
 and addressing one of the girls, said in a distinct tone: 
 "These -.nth-men are from America; the deaf children 
 there speak with their lingers canst thou speak so?" To 
 which the child answered distinctly, but with some effort : 
 Xo, we speak with our months." She then spoke to seve 
 ral others with the same success; one of the boys, in parti 
 cular, articulated with astonishing fluency. It was interest 
 ing to watch their countenance, which were alive with 
 eager attention, and to see the apparent efforts thev made 
 to utter the .words. They spoke in a monotonous tone, 
 slowly and deliberately, but their voices had a strange, 
 sepulchral sound, which was at first unpleasant to the ear. 
 1 put one or two. questions to a little boy, which he answered 
 
1 1-6 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 quite readily ; as I was a foreigner, this was the best test 
 that could be given of the success of the method. We con 
 versed afterwards with the director, who received us kindly, 
 and appointed a day for us to come and seethe system more 
 fully. He spoke of Dr. Howe and Horace Mann, of Bos 
 ton, and seemed to take a great interest in the introduction 
 of this system into America. 
 
 We went again at the appointed time, and as their draw 
 ing teacher was there, we had an opportunity of looking 
 over their sketches, which were excellent. The director 
 showed us the manner of teaching them, by means of a look 
 ing-glass, in which they were shown the different positions 
 of the organs of the mouth, and afterwards made to feel the 
 vibrations of the throat and breast, produced by the sound. 
 He took one of the youngest scholars, covered her eyes, and 
 placing her hand upon his throat, articulated the second sound 
 of A. She followed him, making the sound softer or louder 
 as he did. All the consonants were recognized and repeated 
 distinctly, by placing her hand before his mouth. Their ex 
 ercises in reading, speaking with one another, and writing 
 from dictation, succeeded perfectly. He treated them as if 
 they were his own children, and sought by jesting and play 
 ing, to make the exercise appear like sport. They call him 
 father, and appear to be much attached to him. 
 
 One of the pupils, about fourteen years old, interested me 
 through Iris history. He and his sister were found in Sach- 
 senhausen, by a Prankfort merchant, in a horrible condition. 
 Their mother had died about two years and a half before, 
 and during all that time their father had neglected them, 
 until they were near dead through privation and filth. The 
 
TIIK HM.L OK THK FM"RRORB. 16*7 
 
 boy was placed in this Institute, and the girl in that of the 
 Orphans. He soon began to show a talent for modelling 
 figures, and for some time he has been studying under the 
 sculptor Launitz. I saw a beautiful copy of a bas-relief of 
 Thorwaldsen which he made, as well as an original, very 
 interesting, from its illustration of his own history. It was 
 in two parts ; the first represented himself and his sister, 
 kneeling in misery before a ruined tamily altar, by which an 
 angel was standing, who took him by one hand, and pointed 
 to his benefactor, standing near. The other represented the 
 two kneeling in gratitude before a restored altar, on which 
 was the anchor of Hope. From above streamed down a 
 light, where two angels were rejoicing over their happiness. 
 For a hoy of fourteen, deprived of one of the most valu 
 able senses, and taken from such a horrible condition of 
 life, it is a surprising work, and gives brilliant hopes for his 
 future. 
 
 We went lately into the Romerberg, to see the Kaisersaal 
 and the other rooms formerly used by the old Emperors of 
 Germany, and their Senates. The former is now in the 
 process of restoration. The ceiling is in the gorgeous illu 
 minated style of the middle ages ; along each side are rows 
 of niches for tl*e portraits of the Emperors, which have been 
 painted by the best artists in Berlin. Dresden, Vienna and 
 Munich. It is remarkable that the number of the original 
 niches in the old hall should exactly correspond with the 
 number of the German Emperors, so that the portrait of the 
 Emperor Francis of Austria, who was the last, will close the 
 long rank coming down from Charlemagne. The pictures, 
 or at least such of them as are already finished, are kept in 
 
168 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 another room ; they give one a good idea of the changing 
 styles of royal costumes, from the steel shirt and helmet to 
 the jewelled diadem and velvet robe. I looked with interest 
 on a painting of Frederic Barbarossa, by Lessing, and mused 
 over the popular tradition that he sits with his paladins in a 
 mountain cave under the Castle of Kyffhiiuser, ready to 
 come forth and assist his Fatherland in the hour of need. 
 There was the sturdy form of Maximilian ; the martial Con 
 rad ; and Ottos, Siegfrieds and Sigismunds in plenty many 
 of whom moved a nation in their day, but are now dust and 
 almost forgotten. 
 
 Mendelssohn, one of the greatest living composers, has 
 been spending the winter here, and I have been fortunate 
 enough to see him twice. One sunny day, three weeks ago, 
 when all the population of Frankfort turned out upon the 
 budding promenades and the broad quays along the Main, 
 to enjoy the first spring weather, I went on my usual after 
 noon stroll, with my friend Willis, whose glowing talk con 
 cerning his art is quite as refreshing to me after the day s 
 study in the gloomy Markt-platz, as are the blue hills of 
 Spessart, which we see from the bridge over the river. As 
 we were threading the crowd of boatmen, Tyrolese, Sua- 
 bians, and Bohemians, on the quay, my eye was caught by 
 a man who came towards us, and whose face and air were in 
 such striking contrast to those about him, that my whole 
 attention was at once fixed upon him. He was simply and 
 rather negligently dressed in dark cloth, with a cravat tied 
 loosely about his neck. His beard had evidently not been 
 touched for two or three days, and his black hair was long 
 and frowzed by the wind. His eyes, which were large 
 
A GLIMI SE OF MENDELbSOHN. l(j ( J 
 
 dark, and kindling, were directed forward and lifted in the 
 abstraction of some absorbing thought, and as he passed, I 
 heard him singing to himself in a voice deep butoiot loud, 
 and yet with a far different tone from that of one who hums 
 a careless air as he walks. But a few notes caught my ear, 
 yet I remember their sound, elevated and with that scarcely 
 perceptible vibration which betrays a feeling below the 
 soul s surface, as distinctly now as at the time. Willis 
 grasped my arm quickly, and said in a. low voice, " Mendels 
 sohn ! " I turned hastily, and looked after him as he went 
 down the quay, apparently hut half conscious of the stirring 
 scenes around him. I could easily imagine how the balmy, 
 indolent sensation in the air, so like a soothing and tran 
 quillizing strain of music, should have led him into the serene 
 and majestic realm of his own creations. 
 
 It was something to have seen a man of genius thus 
 alone and in communion with his inspired thoughts, and I 
 could not repress a feeling of pleasure at the idea of having 
 unconsciously acknowledged his character before I knew 
 his name. After this passing glimpse, this flash of him, 
 however, came the natural desire to see his features in 
 repose, and obtain some impression of his personality. An 
 opportunity soon occurred. The performance of his " Wal- 
 purgisnacht," by the Caecilien-Verein, a day or two there 
 after, increased the enthusiasm I had before felt for his 
 works, and full of the recollection of its sublime Druid 
 choruses, I wrote a few lines to him, expressive of the 
 delight they had given me, and of my wish to possess his 
 name in autograph, that I might take to America some 
 token connected with their remembrance. The next day J 
 
 8 
 
170 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 received a very kind note in reply, enclosing a manuscript 
 score of a chorus from the " Walpurgisnacht." 
 
 Summoning up my courage the next morning, I decided 
 on calling upon him in person, feeling certain that he would 
 understand the motive which prompted me to take such a 
 liberty. I had no difficulty in finding his residence in the 
 Bockenheimcr Gasse, in the western part of the city. The 
 servant ushered me into a handsomely furnished room, with 
 a carpet, an unusual thing in German houses ; a grand piano 
 occupied one side of the apartment. These struck my eye 
 on entering, hut my observation was cut short by the 
 appearance of Mendelssohn. A few words of introduction 
 served to remove any embarrassment I might have felt on 
 account of my unceremonious call, and I was soon put 
 entirely at ease by his frank and friendly manner. As he 
 sat opposite to me, beside a small table, covered with 
 articles of rertu, I was much struck with the high intel 
 lectual beauty of his countenance. His forehead is white, 
 unwrinkled, and expanding above, in the region of the ideal 
 faculties. His eyes are large, very dark, and lambent with 
 a light that seemed to come through them like the phos 
 phorescent gleam on the ocean at midnight. I have ob 
 served this peculiar character of the eye only in men of the 
 highest genius. None of the engravings of Mendelssohn 
 which have yet been made give any idea of the kindling 
 effect which is thus given to his face. His nose is slightly 
 prominent, and the traces of his Jewish blood are seen in 
 this, as well as the thin but delicate curve of the upper lip, 
 and the high cheek-bones. Yet it is the Jewish face softened 
 and spiritualized, retaining none of its coarser characteristics. 
 
MENDELSSOHN. l7l 
 
 The faces of Jewish youth are of a rare and remarkable 
 beauty, but this is M-.m-cly ever retained beyond the first 
 period of manhood. In Mendelssohn, the perpetual youth 
 of spirit, which is the gift of genius alone, seems to have 
 kept his features moulded to its expression, while the 
 approach of maturer years but heightens and strengthens 
 its character. 
 
 He spoke of German music, and told me I should hear it best 
 performed in Vienna and Berlin. Some remarks on America 
 led him to speak of the proposed Musical Festival in New 
 York. He has received a letter inviting him to assist in it, 
 and said he would gladly attend it, but his duty to his family 
 will not permit of his leaving. He appeared to be much 
 gratified by the invitation, not only for the personal appre 
 ciation which it implied, but as a cheering sign of progress 
 in the musical art. Mr. Willis, who mot with Mendelssohn 
 last summer, at the baths of Kronthal, said that he expressed 
 much curiosity respecting our native negro melodies which, 
 after all, form the only peculiarly national music we possess 
 and that he considers some of them exceedingly beautiful 
 and original. 
 
 I did not feel at liberty to intrude long upon the morning 
 hours of a composer, and took my leave after a short inter 
 view. Mendelssohn, at parting, expressed his warm interest 
 in our country s progress, especially in the refined arts, and 
 gave me a kind invitation to call upon him in whatever Ger 
 man, city I should find him. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JOURNEY ON FOOT FROM FRANKFORT TO CA8SEI* 
 
 Leaving Frankfort Plan of our German Tour The Country in Spring A " Fighting" 
 Journeyman Giessen The Valley of the Lahn Foot-travelling in Hesse Cassel 
 A Village Inn A Tattling Boy Mountain Scenery Meeting with Students The 
 City of Cassi l Carl, the Student Walk to the Wilhelinsholu The Giant s Castle- 
 Cascades and Fountains. 
 
 THE day for leaving Frankfort came at last, and I bade adieu 
 to the gloomy, antique, but still quaint and pleasant city. I 
 felt like leaving a second home, so much had the memories 
 of many delightful hours spent there attached me to it : I shall 
 long retain the recollection of its dark old streets, its massive 
 devil-haunted bridge and the ponderous cathedral, telling of 
 the times of the Crusaders. I toiled up the long hill on the 
 road to Friedberg, and from the tower at the top took a last 
 look at the distant city, with a heart heavier than the knap 
 sack whose unaccustomed weight rested uneasily on my 
 shoulders. Being alone starting out into the wide world, 
 where as yet I knew no one, I felt much more deeply 
 what it was to find friends in a strange land. But parting 
 is the wanderer s lot. 
 
PLAN OF OUR GERMAN TOUR. 1*73 
 
 We had determined on making the complete tour of Ger 
 many on foot, and in order to vary it somewhat, my friend 
 and I proposed taking different routes from Frankfort to 
 Leipsic. He chose a circuitous course, by way of Nurem 
 berg and the Thiiringian forests ; while I, whose fancy had 
 been running wild with Goethe s witches, preferred looking 
 on the gloom and grandeur of the rugged Hartz. We both 
 left Frankfort on the 23d of April, each bearing a letter of 
 introduction to the same person in Leipsir, where we agreed 
 to meet in fourteen days. As we were obliged to travel as 
 cheaply as possible, I started with but seventy-nine florins 
 (a florin is forty cents American), well knowing that if 1 took 
 more, I should, in all probability, spend proportionably more 
 also. Thus, armed with my passport, properly vised, a knap 
 sack weighing fifteen pounds and a cane from the Kentucky 
 MaiMinoth Cave, I began my lonely walk through Northern 
 Germany. 
 
 The warm weather of the week previous had brought out 
 the foliage of the willows and other early trees, and the 
 violets and cowslips were springing up in the meadows. Keep 
 ing along the foot of the Taunus, I passed over great, broad 
 hills, which were brown with the spring ploughing, and by 
 sunset reached Friedberg a large city, on the summit of a 
 hill. The next morning, after sketching its old, baronial 
 castle, I crossed the meadows to Nauheim, to see the salt 
 springs there. They are fifteen in number ; the water, which 
 is very warm, rushes up with such force as to leap several 
 feet above the earth. The buildings made for evaporation 
 are nearly two miles in length ; and a walk along the top 
 gives a delightful view of the surrounding valleys. After 
 
174 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 reaching the ckaussie again, I WHS hailed by a wandering 
 journeyman or handwerker, as they are called, who wanted 
 company. As I had concluded to accept all otters of this 
 kind, we trudged along together very pleasantly He was 
 from Holstein, on the borders of Denmark, and was just return 
 ing home, after an absence of six years, having escaped from 
 Switzerland after the late battle of Luzerne, which he had 
 witnessed. He had his knapsack and tools fastened on 
 wheels, which he drew after him quite conveniently. I could 
 not help laughing at the adroit manner in which he begged 
 his way along, through every village. He would ask me to 
 go on and wait for him at the further end, where he would 
 join me after a short delay, with a handful of small copper 
 money, which he said he had fought for, the handwerker s 
 term for begged. 
 
 We passed over long ranges of hills, with an occasional 
 view of the Vogelsgebirge, or Bird s Mountains, far to the 
 east. I knew at length, by the pointed summits of the hills, 
 that we were approaching Giessen and the valley of the 
 Lalin. Finally, two sharp peaks appeared in the distance, 
 each crowned with a picturesque fortress, and the spires of 
 Giessen rose from the valley below. Parting from my 
 " fighting" companion, I passed through the city without 
 stopping, for it was the time of the university vacation, and 
 Dr. Liebig, the world-renowned chemist, whom I desired to 
 see, was absent. 
 
 Crossing a hill or two, I came down into the valley of the 
 Lahn, which flows through meadows of the brightest green, 
 with red-roofed cottages nestled among gardens and orchards 
 upon its banks. The women here wear a remarkable cos- 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE LAHN. 175 
 
 tume, consisting of a red boddice with white sleeves, and a 
 dozen skirts, one above another, reaching only to the knees. 
 I slept at a little village among the hills, and started early 
 for Marburg. The meadows were of the purest emerald, 
 through which the stream wound its way, with even borders, 
 covered to the water s edge with grass so smooth and 
 velvety, that a fairy might have danced along on it for miles 
 without stumbling over an uneven tuft. This valley is one 
 of the most charming districts in Germany. I thought, as I 
 saw the peaceful inhabitants at work in their fields, that 1 
 had most probably, on the battle-field of Brandywine, 
 walked over the bones of some of their ancestors, whom a 
 despotic prince had torn from their happy homes, to die in 
 a distant laud, lighting a-ainst the cause of freedom. 
 
 I now entered directly into the heart of Hesse Cassel. 
 The country resembled a collection of hills thrown together 
 in confusion sometimes a wide plain left between them, 
 sometimes a cluster of wooded peaks, and here and there a 
 single pointed summit rising high above the rest. The valleys 
 were green as ever, the hill-sides freshly ploughed, and the 
 forests beginning to be colored by the tender foliage of the 
 larch and birch. My custom was to walk two or three 
 hours at a stretch, and then, when I could find a dry, shady 
 bank, I would rest for half an hour and finish some hastily- 
 sketched landscape, or lie at full length, with my head on 
 my knapsack, and peruse the countenances of those passing 
 by. The observation which every traveller excites, soon 
 ceases to be embarrassing. It was at first extremely 
 unpleasant ; but I am now so hardened, that the 
 trange, magnetic influence of the human eye, which we 
 
176 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 cannot avoid feeling, fails to penetrate my acquired indif- 
 ference. 
 
 During the day several showers came by, but as none of 
 them struck quite to the skin, I kept on, and reached about 
 sunset a little village in the valley. I chose a small inn, 
 which had an air of neatness about it, and on going in, the 
 tidy landlady s " be you welcome," as she brought a pair of 
 slippers for my swollen feet, made me feel quite at home. 
 After being furnished with eggs, milk, butter, and bread, for 
 supper, which I ate while listening to an animated discussion 
 between the village schoolmaster and some farmers, I was 
 ushered into a clean, sanded bedroom, and soon forgot all 
 fatigue. For this, with breakfast in the morning, the bill 
 was six and a half groschen about sixteen cents ! The air 
 was freshened by the rain, and I journeyed over the hills at 
 a rapid rate. Stopping for dinner at the large village of 
 Wabern, a boy at the inn asked me if I was going to Ameri 
 ca ? I said no, I came from there. He then addressed to 
 me many silly questions, after which he ran out and told the 
 people of the village. When I set out again, the children 
 pointed at me and cried : " see there ! he is from America !" 
 and the men took off their hats and bowed ! 
 
 The sky was stormy, which added to the gloom of the 
 hills around, although some of the distant ranges lay in 
 mingled light and shade the softest alternation of purple 
 ana brown. There were many isolated, rocky hills, two of 
 which interested me, through their attendant legends. One 
 is said to have been the scene of a battle between the 
 Romans and Germans, where, after a long conflict, the 
 rock opened and swallowed up the former. The other, 
 
MEETING WITH STUDENTS. 177 
 
 which is crowned with a rocky wall, so like a ruined fortress, 
 as at a distance to be universally mistaken for one, tradition 
 says is the death-place of Charlemagne, who still walks 
 around its summit every night, clad in complete armor. On 
 ascending a hill late in the afternoon, I saw at a great dis 
 tance the statue of Hercules, which stands on the Wilhelms- 
 hohe, near Cassel. Night set in with a dreary rain, and I 
 stopped at an inn about five miles short of the city. While 
 tea was preparing, a company of students came in and asked 
 for a separate room. Seeing I was alone, they invited me 
 to join them. They seemed much interested in America, 
 and leaving the table gradually, formed a ring around me, 
 where I had enough to do to talk with them all at once. 
 When the omnibus came along, the most of them went with 
 it to Cassel ; but five remained and persuaded me to set out 
 with them on foot. They insisted on carrying my knapsack 
 the whole way, through the rain and darkness, and when I 
 had passed the city gate with them, unchallenged, conducted 
 me to the comfortable hotel, " Zur Krone." 
 
 It is a pleasant thing to wake up in the morning in a 
 strange city. Every thing is new ; you walk around it for 
 the first time in the full enjoyment of the novelty, or the 
 not less agreeable feeling of surprise, if it is different from 
 your anticipations. Two of my friends of the previous 
 night called for me in the morning, to pilot me around the 
 city, and the first impression, made in such agreeable com 
 pany, prepossessed me very favorably. I shall not, how 
 ever, take up time in describing its many sights, particularly 
 the Frederick s Platz, where the statue of -Frederick the 
 
 Second, who sold ten thousand of his subjects to England, 
 
 8* 
 
178 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 has been re-erected, after having lain for years in a stable 
 where it was thrown by the French. 
 
 I was much interested in young Carl K , one of my 
 
 new acquaintances. His generous and unceasing kindness 
 first won my esteem, and I found, on nearer acquaintance, 
 the qualities of his mind equal those of his heart. He read 
 to me many beautiful poems of his which were of remark 
 able merit, considering his youth, and I thought 1 could read 
 in his dark, dreamy eye, the unconscious presentiment of a 
 power he does not yet possess. He seemed as one I had 
 known for years. 
 
 He, with a brother student, accompanied me in the after 
 noon to Wilhelmshohe, the summer residence of the Prince, 
 on the side of a range of mountains three miles west of the 
 city. The road leads in a direct line to the summit of the 
 mountain, which is thirteen hundred feet in height, surmount 
 ed by a great structure, called the Giant s Castle, on the 
 summit of which is a pyramid ninety -six feet high, support 
 ing a statue of Hercules, copied after the Farnese, and 
 thirty-one feet in height. By a gradual ascent through 
 beautiful woods, we reached the princely residence, a mag 
 nificent mansion standing on a natural terrace of the moun 
 tain. Near it is a little theatre built by Jerome Buonaparte, 
 in which he used to perform occasionally. We looked into 
 the green-house in passing, where the floral splendor of every 
 zone was combined. There were lofty halls, with glass 
 roofs, where the orange grew to a great tree, and one could 
 sit in myrtle bowers, with the brilliant bloom of the tropics 
 around him. It was the only thing there I was guilty of 
 coveting. 
 
CASCADES AT WILH KI.MSH<">HE. 179 
 
 The greatest curiosity is the water-works, which are 
 perhaps unequalled in the world. The Giant s Castle on 
 the summit contains an immense tank in which water is 
 kept for the purpose, but unfortunately, at the time I was 
 there, the pipes, which had been frozen through the winter, 
 were not in condition to play. From the summit an inclined 
 plane of masonry descends the mountain nine hundred feet, 
 broken every one hundred and fifty feet by perpendicular 
 descents. These are the Cascades, down which the water 
 first rushes from the tank. After being again collected in a 
 great basin at the bottom, it passes into an aqueduct, built 
 like a Roman ruin, and goes over beautiful arches through 
 the forest, where it falls in one sheet down a deep precipice. 
 When it has descended several other beautiful falls, made 
 in exact imitation of nature, it is finally collected and forms 
 the great fountain, which rises twelve inches in diameter 
 from the middle of a lake to the height of one hundred and 
 ninety feet ! We descended by lovely walks through the 
 forest to the Lowenburg, built as the ruin of a knightly 
 castle, and fitted out in every respect to correspond with the 
 descriptions of a fortress in the olden time, with moat, draw 
 bridge, chapel and a garden of clipped trees. Further below, 
 there are a few small houses, inhabited by the descendants 
 of the Hessians who fell in America, supported here at the 
 Prince s expense ! 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ADVENTURES AMONG THE HARTI. 
 
 Parting from Carl The Town of Munden Illness Gottingen, and a Physician- 
 Approach to the Hartz Osterode Entering the Mountains Wild Scenery A 
 Stormy Night Climbing the Brocken A Snow Storm Perilous Travelling The 
 Brocken House The Spectre Peeps through the Clouds Descent of the Brocken 
 Valleys of the Hartz The Rosstrappe The Landlady s Legend Walk to Hal- 
 berstadtr A Suspicious Inn The Sleeping Chamber Anticipation of Murder 
 Kelief. 
 
 ON taking leave of Carl at the gate over the Gottingen road, 
 I felt tempted to bestow a malediction upon travelling, from 
 its merciless breaking of all links, as soon as formed. It 
 was painful to think we should meet no more. The tears 
 started into his eyes, and feeling a mist gathering over 
 mine, I gave his hand a parting pressure, turned my back 
 upon Cassel, and started up the long mountain, at a despe 
 rate rate. On the summit I passed out of Hesse into Hano 
 ver, and began to descend the remaining six miles. The 
 road went down by many windings, but I shortened the 
 way considerably by a foot-path through a mossy old 
 forest. The hills bordering the Weser are covered with 
 wood, through which I saw the little red-roofed city of 
 
GOTTINGEN AND A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 Munden, at the bottom. 1 stopped there for the night, and 
 next morning walked around the place. It is one of the old 
 German cities that have not yet felt the effect of the 
 changing spirit of the age. It is still walled, though the 
 towers are falling to ruin. The streets are narrow, crooked, 
 and full of ugly old houses, and while standing in the little 
 square before the public buildings, one would think himself 
 born in the sixteenth century, Just below the city, the 
 Werra and Fulda unite and form the Weser. The triangu 
 lar point has been made into a public walk, and the little 
 steamboat was lying at anchor near, waiting to start for 
 Bremen. 
 
 In the afternoon I got into the omnibus for Gottingen. 
 Hi.- ri.Ie over the wild, dreary, monotonous hills was not at 
 all interesting. There were two other passengers inside, 
 one of whom, a grave, elderly man, took a great interest in 
 America, but the conversation was principally on his side ; 
 for I had been taken with a fever in Munden. I lay 
 crouched up in the corner of the vehicle, trying to keep off 
 the chills which constantly came over me, and wishing only 
 for (;..ttingen, that I might obtain medicine and abed. We 
 reached the city at last, and I got out with my knapsack 
 and walked wearily through half a dozen streets until I saw 
 an inn. But on entering, I found it so dark and dirty and 
 unfriendly, that I immediately went out again and hired the 
 first pleasant looking boy I met, to take me to a good hotel. 
 He conducted me to the best in the city. I felt a trepida 
 tion of pocket, but my throbbing head pleaded more power 
 fully, so I ordered a comfortable room and a physician. The 
 host, Herr Wilhelm, scut for Professor Treiurt, of the Uni 
 
182 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 versity, who told me I had over-exerted myself in walking. 
 He made a second call the next day, when, as he was 
 retiring, I inquired the amount of his fee. He begged to be 
 excused, and politely bowed himself out. I asked the 
 meaning of this of Herr Wilhelm, who said it was customary 
 for travellers to leave what they chose for the physician, as 
 there was no regular fee. He added, moreover, that twenty 
 groschen, or about sixty cents, was sufficient for the two 
 visits ! 
 
 I stayed in Gottingen two dull, dreary, miserable days, 
 without getting much better. I took but one short walk 
 through the city, in which I saw the outsides of a few old 
 churches and got a hard fall on the pavement. Thinking 
 that the cause of my illness might perhaps become its cure, 
 I resolved to resume my walk rather than remain in the 
 melancholy in spite of its black-eyed maidens, melancholy 
 Gottingen. On the afternoon of the second day, I took 
 the post to Nordlieim, about twelve miles distant. The 
 Gjttingen valley, down which we drove, was green and 
 beautiful, and the trees seemed to have come into loaf all at 
 once. We were not within sight of the Hartz, but the 
 mountains along the Weser were visible on the left. The 
 roads were extremely muddy from the late rains, so that I 
 proceeded but slowly. 
 
 A blue range along the horizon told me of the Hartz, as I 
 advanced, but although there were some fine side-glimpses 
 through the hills, I did not see much of them until I reached 
 Osterode, about twelve miles further. Here the country 
 begins to assume a different aspect. The city lies in a 
 narrow valley, and as the road goes down a steep hill 
 
KNTEKIM; TIIK HAKTZ. 183 
 
 towards it, one sees on each side many quarries of gypsum, 
 and in front the gloomy pine mountains are piled one above 
 another in real Alpine style. But alas ! the city, though it 
 looks exceedingly romantic from above, is one of the dirtiest 
 places I ever saw. I stopped at Ilerzberg, six miles farther, 
 for the night. The scenery was very striking ; and its effect 
 was much heightened by a sky full of black clouds, which 
 sent down a hail-storm as they passed over. The hills are 
 covered with pine, fir, and larch. The latter tree, in its first 
 foliage, is most delicate and beautiful. Every bough is like 
 a long ostrich plume, .and when one of them stands among 
 the dark pines, it seems as light and airy as if the wind 
 might carry it away. Just opposite Herzberg, the Hartz 
 lowers in its gloomy and mysterious grandeur, arid I went 
 to sleep with the pleasant thought that an hour s walk on the 
 morrow would shut me up in its deep recesses. 
 
 The next morning I entered them. The road led up a 
 narrow mountain valley, down which a stream was rushing 
 on all sides magnificent forests of pine. It was glorious 
 to look down their long aisles, dim and silent, with a floor of 
 thick green moss. There was just room enough for the road 
 and the wild stream which wound its way zigzag between the 
 hills, affording the most picturesque mountain scenery along 
 the whole route. As I ascended, the mountains became 
 rougher and wilder, and in the shady hollows were still drifts 
 of snow. Enjoying every thing very much, I walked on 
 without taking notice of the road, and on reaching a wild, 
 rocky chasm called the " Schlucht," was obliged to turn 
 aside and take a footpath over a high mountain to Andreas- 
 berg, a town built on a summit two thousand feet above thu 
 
184 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sea. It is inhabited almost entirely by the workmen from 
 the mines. 
 
 The path from Andreasberg to the Brocken leads along 
 the Rehberger Ditches, which carry water about six miles 
 for the ore-works. After going through a thick pine wood ; 
 t came out on the mountain-side, where rough crags over 
 hung the way, and through the tops of the trees J had 
 glimpses into the gorge below. It was scenery of the 
 wildest character Directly opposite rose a mountain wall, 
 dark and stern through the gloomy sky ; far below the little 
 stream of the Oder foamed over the rocks with a continual 
 roar, and one or two white cloud-wreaths were curling up 
 from the forests. 
 
 I followed the water-ditch around every projection of the 
 mountain, still ascending higher amid the same wild scenery, 
 until at length I reached the Oderteich, a great dam, in a 
 kind of basin formed by some mountain peaks on the side 
 of the Brocken. It has a breastwork of granite, very firm, 
 and furnishes a continual supply of water for the works. 
 The rain soon began to fall, and I took a footpath which 
 went winding up through the pine wood. The storrn still 
 increased, and finally became :3O thick and dark that I was 
 obliged to stop about five o clock at Oderbruch, a toll-house 
 and tavern on the side of the Brocken, on the boundary be 
 tween Brunswick and Hanover the second highest inhabit 
 ed house in the Hartz The Brocken was invisible through 
 the storm, and the weather foreboded a difficult ascent. The 
 night was cold, but by a warm fire I let the winds howl and 
 the rain beat. When I awoke the next morning, we were in 
 clouds. They were thick on eve-y side, hiding what little 
 
THE BROCKEN IN A STORM. 185 
 
 view there was through the openings of the forest. Aftef 
 breakfast, however, they appeared to be somewhat thinner, 
 and I decided to start for the Brocken. This is not the 
 usual road for travellers who ascend, being not only rough 
 but difficult to find, as I soon discovered. The clouds 
 gathered around again after 1 set out, and I was obliged tr, 
 walk in a storm of mingled rain and snow. The snow lay 
 several feet deep in the forests, and the path was in many 
 places quite, drifted over. The white cloud-masses were 
 whirled past by the wind, continually enveloping me and 
 shutting out everv view. During the winter the path had 
 become, in many places, the bed of a mountain torrent, so 
 that sometimes I waded knee-deep in snow, and sometimes 
 I walked over the wet, spongy moss, crawling under the 
 long, dripping branches of the stunted pines. After a long 
 time of such dreary travelling, I came to two rocks called 
 the Stag Horns, standing on a little peak. The storm; now 
 all snow, blew more violently than ever, and the path was 
 lost under the deep drifts. 
 
 Comforting myself with the assurance that if I could not 
 find my way, I could at least return, I began searching, and 
 after some time, came upon the path again. Here the forest 
 ceased ; the way led on large stones over a marshy, ascend 
 ing plain, but what was above, or on either side, I could not 
 see. It was solitude of the most awful kind. There was 
 nothing but the storm, which had already wet me through, 
 and the bleak gray waste of rocks. The mountain grew 
 steeper and steeper ; I could barely trace the path by the 
 rocks which were worn, and the snow threatened soon to 
 cover these. Added to this, although the walking and tho 
 
186 VIKWS A-FOO f. 
 
 fresh mountain air had removed my illness, 1 was still weal? 
 from the effects of it, and the consequences of a much longer 
 exposure to the storm were greatly to be feared. After two 
 or three hours spent in this way, I found myself growing 
 chill in spite of the labor of climbing ; the path was wholly 
 lost, the snow was blinding, and the wind increased at such 
 a rate, that I began to think I should be carried away 
 bodily, when suddenly something dark loomed up above me 
 through the storm. A few steps more and I stood beside 
 the Brocken House, on the very summit of the mountain ! 
 The mariner, who has been floating for days on a wreck at 
 sea, could scarcely be more rejoiced at a friendly sail, than I 
 was on entering the low building. Two large Alpine dogs 
 in the passage, gave notice to the inmates, as I walked in, 
 dripping with wet, and I was soon ushered into a warm room, 
 where I changed my soaked garments for dry ones, and sat 
 down by the lire with feelings of comfort not easily imagin 
 ed. The old landlord was quite surprised, on learning the 
 path by which I came, that I had succeeded in finding the 
 way at all. The summit was wrapped in the thickest cloud, 
 and he gave me no hope of any prospect for several hours, 
 so I sat down and looked over the Stranger s Album. 
 
 There were a great many long-winded German poems 
 among them, one by Schelling, the philosopher. Some of 
 the visitors spoke of having seen the Spectre of the Brocken. 
 I inquired of the landlord about the phenomenon ; he says 
 it is frequently seen in winter, but in summer more seldom. 
 It always occurs at sunrise, when the eastern side of the 
 Brocken is free from clouds, and at the same time, the mist 
 rises from the valley on the opposite side. The shadow of 
 
GLIMPSES TIIIUHGII THE CJ-OUDS. lb/ 
 
 every thing on the Brocken is then projected in grand pro 
 portions upon the mist, and sometimes surrounded with a 
 luminous halo. It is somewhat singular that such a spectacle 
 is peculiar to the Brocken alone, but this is probably account 
 ed for by the formation of the mountain, which collects the 
 mist at just such a distance from the summit as to render 
 the shadow visible. 
 
 Soon after dinner the storm subsided and the clouds sepa 
 rated a little. I could see clown through the rifts on the 
 plains of Brunswick, and sometimes, when they opened a 
 little more, the mountains below us to the east and the 
 adjoining plains, as far as Magdeburg. It was like looking 
 on the earth from another planet, or from some point in the 
 air which had no connection with it ; our station was com 
 pletely surrounded by clouds, rolling in great masses around 
 us, now and then giving glimpses through their openings of 
 the blue plains, dotted with cities and villages, far below. 
 At one time when they were tolerably well separated, I 
 ascended the tower, fifty feet high, standing near the 
 Brocken House. The view on three sides was quite clear, 
 and I can easily imagine what a magnificent prospect it 
 must be in fine weather. The Brocken is only about four 
 thousand feet high, nearly the same as the loftiest peak of 
 the Catskill, but being the highest mountain in Northern 
 Germany, it commands a more extensive prospect. Imagine 
 a circle described with a radius of a hundred miles, com 
 prising thirty cities, two or three hundred villages, and one 
 whole mountain district ! We could see Brunswick and 
 Magdeburg, and beyond them the great plain which extends 
 to the North Sea in one direction and to Berlin in the other. 
 
|88 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 while directly below us lay the dark mountains of the Harts, 
 with little villages in their sequestered valleys. It was only 
 during a few moments that I could look on this scene in 
 an instant the clouds swept together again and completely 
 hid it. In accordance with a custom of the mountain, one 
 of the girls made me a " Brocken nosegay," of heather, 
 lichens and moss. I gave her a few pfennings and stowed 
 it away carefully in a corner of my knapsack. 
 
 I now began descending the eastern side of the mountain, 
 by a good road over fields of gray rock and through large 
 forests of pine. Two or three bare brown peaks rose oppo 
 site with an air of the wildest sublimity, and in many places 
 Lofty crags towered above the forest. This is the way by 
 which Goethe brings Faust up the Brocken, and the scenery 
 is graphically described in that part of the poem. At the 
 foot of the mountain is the little village of Schiercke, the 
 highest in the Hartz. Here I took a narrow path through 
 the woods, and after following a tediously long road over 
 the hills, reached Elbingerode, where I spent the night. 
 The next morning I started for Blankenburg. I happened 
 to take the wrong road, however, and went through Rube- 
 land, a little village in the valley of the Bode. There are 
 many iron works here, and two celebrated caves, called 
 < Baumann s Hohle," and " Biel s Hohle." I kept on 
 through the gray, rocky hills to Huttenrode, where I inquir 
 ed the way to the Rosstrappe, but was wrongly directed, 
 and after walking nearly two hours in a heavy rain, arrived 
 at Ludwigshutte, on the Bode, in one of the wildest and 
 loneliest corners of the Hartz. I dried my wet clothes at a 
 little inn, ate a dinner of bread and milk, and learning that 
 
THE ROSSTRAPPE. 180 
 
 I was just as far from the Rosstrappe as ever, and that it 
 was impossible to find the way alone, I engaged an old pea 
 sant woman as a guide. She insisted on carrying my knap 
 sack in a basket which she strapped to her shoulders, and 
 then set off at a pace which I could scarcely keep up with. 
 We went over the mountains through a fine old forest, for 
 about two hours, and came out on the brow of a hill near 
 the end of the Hart/, with a beautiful view of the country 
 below and around. Passing the little inn, the path led 
 through thick bushes a1>n^ the summit, over a narrow ledge 
 of rocks that seemed to stretch out into the air, for on either 
 side the foot of the precipice vanished in the depth below, 
 
 Arrived at last at the end, I looked around me. What a 
 spectacle ! I was standing on the end of a line of precipice 
 which ran out from the mountain like a wall for several hun 
 dred feet the hills around rising perpendicularly from the 
 gorge below, where the Bode, pressed into a narrow channel, 
 foamed its way through. Sharp masses of gray rock sprang 
 from the main body like pillars, with trees clinging to the 
 clefts, and although the defile was nearly seven hundred 
 feet deep, the summits, in one place, seemed almost to touch. 
 Near the point at which I stood, which was secured by a 
 railing, was an impression in the rock like the hoof of a giant 
 horse, from which the place takes its name. It is very dis 
 tinct and perfect, and about two feet in length. 
 
 I went back to the little inn and sat down to rest and chat 
 awhile with the talkative landlady. Notwithstanding her hor 
 rible Prussian dialect, I was much amused with the budget 
 of wonders, which she keeps for the information of travellers. 
 Among other things, she related to rne the legend of the 
 
190 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Rosstrappe, which I give in her own words : " A great many 
 hundred years ago, when there were plenty of giants tli rough 
 the world, there was a certain beautiful princess, who was 
 very much loved by one of them. Now, although the pa 
 rents of this princess were afraid of the giant, and wanted 
 her to marry him, she herself hated him, because she was in 
 love with a brave knight. But, you see, the brave knight 
 could do nothing against the great giant, and so a day was 
 appointed for the wedding of the princess. When they were 
 married, the giant had a great feast, and he and all his ser 
 vants got drunk. So the princess mounted his black horse 
 and rode away over the mountains, till she reached this val 
 ley. She stood on that square rock which you see there 
 opposite to us, and when she saw her knight on this side, 
 where we are, she danced for joy, and the rock is called the 
 Tanzplatz, to this very day. But when the giant found she 
 had gone, he followed her as fast as he might ; then a holy 
 bishop, who saw the princess, blessed the feet of her horse, 
 and she jumped on it across to this side, where his fore feet 
 made two marks in the rock, though there is only one left 
 now. You should not laugh at this, for if there were giants 
 then, there must have been very big horses too, as one can 
 see from the hoofmark, and the valley was narrower then 
 than it is now. My dear man, who is very old now, (you 
 see him through the bushes, there, digging,) says it was so 
 when he was a child, and that the old people living then, 
 told him there were once four just such hoof-tracks, on the 
 Tanzplatz, where the horse stood before he jumped over. 
 And we cannot doubt the words of the good old people, for 
 there were many strange things then, we all know, which the 
 
HALBEKS1AUT A tSUSi IClOUS INN. 191 
 
 dear Lord does not let happen now. But I must lell you, 
 lieber Herr, that the giant tried to jump after her and fell 
 away down the valley, where they say he lives yet in the 
 shape of a big black dog, guarding the crown of the princess, 
 which tumbled off as she was going over. But this part of 
 the story is perhaps not true, as nobody, that I ever heard 
 of, has seen either the black dog or the crown !" 
 
 After listening to similar gossip for a while, I descended 
 the mountain-side, a short distance to the Bulowshohe, 
 This is a rocky shaft that shoots upward from the mountain, 
 having from its top a glorious view through the door which 
 the Bode makes in passing out of the Hartz. I could see at 
 a great distance the towers of Magdeburg, and further, the 
 vast plain stretching away like a sea towards Berlin. From 
 Thale, the village below, where the air was warmer than in 
 the Hartz, and the fruit-trees already in blossom, it was four 
 hours walk to Ilalberstadt, by a most tiresome road over 
 long ranges of hills, all ploughed and planted, and extending 
 ;;> far as the eye could reach, without a single fence or 
 j ILIC. It is pleasant to look over scenes where nature is 
 :. free and unshackled; but the people, alas! wear the 
 fetters. The sotting sun, which lighted up the old Brocken 
 : ..1 his snowy top, showed me also Halberstadt, the end of 
 i:.\ Hartz journey ; but its deceitful towers fled as I ap- 
 1-: cached, and I was half dead with fatigue on arriving 
 there. 
 
 The ghostly, dark and echoing castle of an inn (the Black 
 Ragle) whore I stopped, was enough to inspire a lonely 
 traveller, like myself, with unpleasant fancies. It looked 
 heavy am 1 ;:.assive enough to have been a stout baron s 
 
192 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 stronghold in some former century ; the taciturn landlord 
 and his wife, who, with a solemn servant girl, were the 
 only tenants, had grown into perfect keeping with its gloomy 
 character. When I groped my way under the heavy 
 arched portal into the guests room a large, lofty, cheerless 
 hall all was dark, and I could barely perceive, by the little 
 light which came through two deep-set windows, the inmates 
 of the house, sitting on opposite sides of the room. After 
 some delay, the hostess brought a light. I entreated her to 
 furnish me something for supper, and in half an hour she 
 placed a mixture on the table, the like of which I never 
 wish to taste again. She called it beer-soup / I found, on 
 examination, it was beer, boiled with meat, and seasoned 
 strongly with pepper and salt ! My hunger disappeared, and 
 pleading fatigue as an excuse for want of appetite, I left the 
 table. When I was ready to retire, the landlady, who had 
 been sitting silently in a dark corner, called the solemn servant 
 girl, who took up a dim lamp, and bade me follow her to the 
 " sleeping chamber." Taking up my knapsack and staff, I 
 stumbled down the steps into the arched gateway ; before 
 me was a long, damp, deserted court-yard, across which the 
 girl took her way. 1 followed her with some astonish 
 ment, imagining where the sleeping chamber could be, when 
 she stopped at a small, one-story building, standing alone in 
 the yard. Opening the door with a rusty key, she led me 
 into a bare room, a few feet square, opening into another, 
 equally bare, with the exception of a rough bed. " Cer 
 tainly," said I, " I am not to sleep here ! " " Yes," she 
 answered, " this is the sleeping chamber," at the same time 
 setting down the light and disappearing. I examined the 
 
APPREHENSIONS OF MURDER. J93 
 
 placeit smelt mouldy, and the walls were cold and damp ; 
 there had been a window at the head of the bed, but it was 
 walled up, and another at the foot of the bed was also closed 
 to within a few inches of the top. The bed was coarse and 
 dirty ; and on turning down the ragged covers, I saw with 
 horror, a dark brown stain near the pillow, like "that of 
 blood ! For a moment I hesitated whether to steal out of 
 the inn, and seek another lodging, late as it was ; at last, 
 overcoming my fears, I threw my clothes into a heap, and 
 lay down, placing my neavy staff at the head of the bed. 
 Persons passed up and down the courtyard several times, 
 the light of their lamps streaming through the narrow aper 
 ture up against the ceiling, and I distinctly heard voices, 
 *hich seemed to be near the door. Twice did I sit up in 
 bed, breathless, with my hand on the cane, in the most 
 intense anxiety ; but fatigue finally overcame suspicion, 
 and I sank into a deep sleep, from which I was gladly 
 awakened by daylight. In reality, there may have been no 
 cause for my fears I may have wronged the lonely inn- 
 keepers by them ; but certainly no place or circumstances 
 ever seemed to me more appropriate to a deed of robbery or 
 crime. I left immediately, and when a turn in the street 
 hid the front of the ill-omened inn, I began to breathe with 
 my usual freedom 
 
CHAPTER XIX, 
 
 LEIPSIC AND DRESDEN,- 
 
 Magdeburg Suspected Passengers Leipsic View of the Battle-Field The Kosen- 
 toal Schiller s Room Auerbach s Cellar Leipsic Publishers Gerstacker Charms 
 of Dresden The Picture Gallery The Madonna di San Sisto Monument to 
 Moreau The Koya) LibraryThe Green Vaults Cages of Gems Royal Play- 
 things. 
 
 DRESDEN, May 11, 1845. 
 
 THE delay occasioned by the bad weather obliged me to 
 take the railroad at Halberstadt, to keep the appointment 
 with my friend, in Leipsic. I left at six in the morning for 
 Magdeburg, and after two hours ride over a dull, tiresome 
 olain, passed under the mounds and fortifications by the side 
 or the Elbe, and entered the old town. The day was very 
 cold, and the streets were muddy, so I contented myself 
 with looking at the Broadway, (der breite Wieg t ) the Cathe 
 dral and one or two curious old churches, and with walking 
 along the parapet leading to the fortress, which has a view 
 ol the winding Elbe. The Citadel was interesting from 
 baving been the prison in which Baron Trenck was confined, 
 whose narrative I read years ago, when quite a child. 
 
LKII MC. 195 
 
 We were soon on the road to Leipsic. The way was over 
 one great, uninterrupted plain a more monotonous country, 
 even, than Belgium. Two of the passengers with me in the 
 car were much annoyed at being taken by the railway 
 agents for Poles. Their movements were strictly watched 
 by the gensd armes at every station we passed, and they 
 were not even allowed to sit together ! At Kothen a branch 
 track went off to Berlin. We passed by Halle without 
 being able to see anything of it or its University, and 
 reached Leipsic in four hours after leaving Magdeburg. 
 
 On my first walk around the city, the next morning, I passed 
 the AuTt/.ttt/* Pl<itz a broad green lawn, on which front 
 the University and several other public buildings. A chain 
 of beautiful promenades encircles the city, on the site of its 
 old fortifications. Following their course through walks 
 shaded by large trees and bordered with flowering shrubs, I 
 passed a small but chaste monument to Sebastian Bach, the 
 composer, which was erected almost entirely at the private 
 cost of Mendelssohn, and stands opposite the building in 
 which Bach once directed the choirs. As I was standing 
 beside it, a glorious choral, swelled by a hundred voices, 
 came through the open windows, like a tribute to the genius 
 of the great master. 
 
 Having found my friend, who had arrived on the previous 
 day from Weimar and Jena, we went together to the Stern 
 Warte, or Observatory, which gives a fine view of the 
 country around the city, and in particular the battle-field. 
 The Castellan who is stationed there, is well acquainted 
 with the localities, and pointed out the position of the hostile 
 armies. It was one of the most bloody and hard-fought 
 
196 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 battles which history; records. The army of Napoleon 
 stretched like a semicircle around the southern and eastern 
 sides of the city, and the plain beyond was occupied by the 
 allies, whose forces met together here. Schwarzenburg, with 
 his Austrian s, came from Dresden ; Blucher, from Halle, 
 with the Emperor Alexander. Their forces amounted to 
 three hundred thousand, while those of Napoleon ranked at 
 one hundred and ninety-two thousand men. It must have 
 been a terrific scene. The battle raged four days, and the 
 meeting of half a million of men in deadly conflict was 
 accompanied by the thunder of sixteen hundred cannon- 
 The small rivers which flow through Leipsic were swollen 
 with blood, and the vast plain was covered with upwards 
 of fifty thousand dead. It is difficult to conceive such 
 slaughter, while looking at the quiet and peaceful landscape 
 below. It seemed more like a legend of past ages, when 
 ignorance and passion led men to murder and destroy, than 
 an event which the last half century witnessed. For the 
 sake of humanity it is to be hoped that the world will never 
 see such another. 
 
 There are some lovely walks around Leipsic. We went 
 in the afternoon with a few friends to the Rosenthal, a 
 beautiful meadow, bordered by forests of the German oak, 
 very few of whose Druid trunks have been left standing. 
 There are Swiss cottages embowered in the foliage, where 
 every afternoon the social citizens assemble to drink their 
 coffee and enjoy a few hours escape from the noisy and 
 dusty streets. One can walk for miles along these lovely 
 paths by the side of the velvet meadows, or the banks of 
 some shaded stream. We visited the little village of Golis, 
 
LEIPSIC I t HI.ISIIEKS. 191 
 
 a short distance off, where, on the second story of a little 
 white house, hangs the sign, " Schiller s Room." Some of 
 the Leipsic literati have built a stone arch over the entrance, 
 with the inscription : " Here dwelt Schiller in 1795, and 
 wrote his Hymn to Joy." Everywhere through Germany 
 fhe remembrances of Schiller are sacred. In every city 
 where he lived, they show his dwelling. They know and 
 reverence the mighty spirit who has been among them. 
 
 Another interesting place in Leipsic is Auerbach s Cellar, 
 which, it is said, contains an old manuscript history of Faust, 
 from which Goethe derived the first idea of his poem. He 
 used to frequent this cellar, and one of his scenes in " Faust " 
 is laid in it. We looked down the arched passage ; but not 
 wishing to purchase any wine, we could find no pretence for 
 entering. The streets of Leipsic abound with book stores, 
 and one half the business of the inhabitants appears to con 
 sist in printing, paper-making and binding. The publisher? 
 have a handsome Exchange of their own, and during the 
 Fairs, the amount of business transacted is enormous. The 
 establishment of Brockhaus is contained in an immense build 
 ing, adjoining which stands his dwelling, in the midst oi 
 magnificent gardens. That of Tauchnitz is not less exten 
 sive. I became acquainted at the Museum, with Friedrich 
 Gerstiicker, a young German author who has been some 
 time in America, and is well versed in our literature. He is 
 sow engaged in translating American works, one of which 
 Hoffman s " Wild Scenes of the Forest and Prairie " will 
 eoon appear. In no place in Germany have I found more 
 knowledge of our country, her men and her institutions, thaw 
 in Leipsic, and as yet I have seen few that would lie prefer 
 
398 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 able as a place of residence. Its attractions do not consist in 
 its scenery, but in the social and intellectual character of its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 We are now in the " Florence of the Elbe," as the Sax 
 ons have christened Dresden. Exclusive of its galleries oi 
 art, which are scarcely surpassed by any in Europe, Dresden 
 charms the traveller by the natural beauty of its environs, 
 It stands in a curve of the Elbe, in the midst of green mea 
 dows, gardens, and fine old woods, with the hills of Saxony 
 sweeping around like an amphitheatre, and the craggy 
 peaks of the Highlands looking at it from afar. The domes 
 and spires at a distance give it a rich Italian look, which is 
 heightened by the white villas, embowered in trees, gleaming 
 on the hills around. In the streets there is no bustle of 
 business nothing of the din and confusion of traffic which 
 mark most cities ; it seems like a place for study and quiet 
 enjoyment. 
 
 The railroad brought us in three hours from Leipsic, over 
 the eighty miles of plain that intervene. We came from the 
 station through the Neustadt, passing the Japanese Palace 
 and the equestrian statue of Augustus the Strong. The 
 magnificent bridge over the Elbe was so much injured by 
 the late inundation as to be impassable, and we were obliged 
 to go some distance up the river bank and cross on a bridge 
 of boats. Next morning my first search was for the Picture 
 Gallery. We set off at random, and after passing the 
 Church of Our Lady, with its lofty dome of solid stone, 
 which withstood the heaviest bombs during the war with 
 Frederick the Great, came to an open square, one side of 
 which was occupied by an old, brown, red- roofed build 
 
THE MADONNA DI SAN SISTO. 100 
 
 ing, which T at once recognized as the object of OUT 
 search. 
 
 I have just taken a last look at the gallery this morning, 
 and left it with real regret; for, during the two visits, 
 Raphael s heavenly picture of the Madonna and Child had 
 so grown into my love and admiration, that it was painful 
 to think I should never see it again. There are many more 
 which clung so strongly to my imagination, gratifying in the 
 highest degree the love for the Beautiful, that I left them 
 with sadness, and the thought that I would now only have 
 the memory. I can see the inspired eye and god-like brow 
 of the Jesus-child, as if I were still standing before the 
 picture, and the sweet, holy countenance of the Madonna 
 still looks upon me. Yet, though this picture is a miracle of 
 art, the first glance filled me with disappointment It has 
 somewhat faded, during the three hundred years that have 
 rolled away since the hand of Raphael worked on the can 
 vas, and the glass with which it is covered for better 
 preservation, injures the effect. After 1 had gazed on it a 
 while, every thought of this vanished. The figure of the 
 Virgin seemed to soar in the air, and it was difficult to think 
 the clouds were not in motion. Two divine cherubs look up 
 from below, and in her arms sits the sacred child. Those 
 two faces beam from the picture like those of angels. The 
 dark, prophetic eye and pure brow of the young Jesus 
 ihain one like a spell. There is something more than 
 mortal in its expression something in that infant face which 
 indicates a power mightier than the proudest manhood. 
 There is no glory around the head ; but the spirit whih 
 shines from those features, marks his divinity. In the 
 
200 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Sweet face of the mother a Borrowfhl foreboding mingles 
 with its tenderness, as if she knew the world into which tho 
 Saviour was born, and foresaw the path in which he was to 
 tread. It is a picture which one can scarce look upon with 
 out tears. 
 
 The plain, south of Dresden, was the scene of the hard- 
 fought battle between Napoleon and the allied armies, in 1813. 
 On the heights above the little village of Riicknitz, Moreau 
 was shot on the second day of the battle. We took a foot 
 path through the meadows, shaded by cherry trees in bloom, 
 and reached the spot after an hour s walk. The monument 
 is simple a square block of granite, surmounted by a hel 
 met and sword, with the inscription: " The hero Moreau fell 
 here by the side of Alexander, August \ 1th, 1 813." I gathered, 
 as a memorial, a few leaves of the oak which shades it. 
 
 By applying an hour before the appointed time, we ob 
 tained admission to the Royal Library. It contains three 
 hundred thousand volumes among them the most complete 
 collection of historical works in existence. Each hall is 
 devoted to a history of a separate country, and one large 
 room is filled with that of Saxony alone. There is a large 
 number of rare and curious manuscripts, among which are 
 old Greek works of the seventh and eighth centuries ; a Koran 
 which once belonged to the Sultan Bajazet ; the autographs 
 of Luther and Melancthon ; a manuscript volume with pen 
 and ink sketches, by Albert Diirer, and the earliest specimens 
 of the invention of printing. Among the latter was a book 
 published by Faust and Schaeffer, at Mayence, in 1457. 
 
 We were fortunate in seeing the Grime Gewolbe, or Green 
 Vaults, a collection of jewels and costly articles, unsurpassed 
 
THE UREEN VAULTS 201 
 
 in Europe. Admittance is only granted to six persons at a 
 time, who pay a fee of two dialers. The customary way is 
 to employ a LoJinbcdicn (</-, who goes around from one hotel 
 to another, until he has collected the required number, when 
 he brings them together and conducts them to the keeper, 
 who has charge of the treasures. As our visit happened to 
 be during the Pentecost holidays, when every body in Dres 
 den goes to the mountains, there was some difficulty in 
 effecting this, but alter two mornings spent in hunting up 
 curious travellers, the servant finally conducted us in triumph 
 to the palace. The first hall into which we were ushered, 
 contained works in bronze. They were all small, and 
 chosen with regard to their artistical value. The next room 
 contained statues, and vases covered with reliefs, in ivory. 
 The most remarkable work was the fall of Lucifer and his 
 augels, containing ninety-two figures in all, carved out of a 
 single piece of ivory sixteen inches high ! It was the work 
 of an Italian monk, and cost him many years of hard labor. 
 However costly the contents of these halls, they were only 
 an introduction to those which followed. Kach one exceeded 
 the other in splendor and costliness. The walls were covered 
 to the ceiling with rows of goblets, vases, &c., of polished 
 jasper, agate, and lapis lazuli. "We saw two goblets, each 
 prized at six thousand thalers, made of gold and precious 
 stones ; also the great pearl called the Spanish Dwarf, near 
 ly as large as a pullet s egg ; globes and vases cut entirely 
 out of the mountain crystal ; magnificent Nuremberg watches 
 and clocks, and a great number of figures, made ingeniously 
 of rough pearls and diamonds. The seventh hall contains 
 the coronation robes of Augustus II. of Poland, and inanj 
 
 9* 
 
202 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 costlj specimens of carving in wood. A cherry-stone is 
 shown in a glass case, which has one hundred and twenty- 
 five faces, all perfectly finished, carved upon it ! The next 
 room we entered sent back a glare of splendor that perfect 
 ly dazzled us. It was all gold, diamond, ruby, and sapphire 
 Every case sent out such a glow and glitter that it seemed 
 like a cage of imprisoned lightnings. Wherever the eye 
 turned it was met by a blaze of broken rainbows. They 
 were there by hundreds, and every gem was a fortune. 
 We here saw the largest known onyx, nearly seven inches 
 long and four inches broad ! One of the most remarkable 
 works is the throne and court of Aurungzebe, the Indian 
 king, by Dinglinger, a celebrated goldsmith of the last cen 
 tury. It contains one hundred and thirty-two figures, all of 
 enamelled gold, and each one most perfectly and elaborately 
 finished. It was purchased by Prince Augustus for fifty- 
 eight thousand dialers,* which was not an exorbitant sum, 
 considering that the making of it occupied Dinglinger and 
 thirteen workmen for seven years ! 
 
 It is almost impossible to estimate the value of the trea 
 sures these halls contain. That of the gold and jewels 
 alone must be many millions of dollars, and the amount of 
 labor expended on these toys of royalty is incredible. As 
 monuments of patient and untiring toil, they are interesting : 
 but it is sad to think how much labor and skill and energy 
 have been wasted, in producing things which are useless to 
 the world, and only of secondary importance as works of art 
 Perhaps, however, if men could be diverted by such play 
 things from more dangerous games, it would be all the better 
 
 * A Prussian or Saxon thaler is about 70 eta 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 RAMBLES IN THE SAXON SWITZERLAND. 
 
 ll to Dresden The King of Saxony Beanty of the Country Sunken Glens 
 The Uttewalder Grand Precipice of the Bastei Effects of the Inundation The 
 Fortress of Konigstein Anecdote of a Baron A Mountain Valley A Cascade 
 Show The Kuhstull The Little Winterber^ Cloudy Landscapes The Prebisch- 
 thor Entering Austria Bohemian Scenery The Battle-Field of Kuhn The 
 Baths of Teplitz Plains of the Elbe Distant View of Prague. 
 
 AFTRR four days sojourn in Dresden we shouldered our 
 knapsacks, not to be laid down again until we reached 
 Prague. We were elated with the prospect of getting 
 among the hills again, and we heeded not the frequent 
 showers which had dampened the enjoyment of the Pente 
 cost holidays for the good citizens of Dresden, and might 
 spoil our own. So we trudged gaily along the road to 
 Pillnitz, and waved an adieu to the domes behind U9 as the 
 forest shut them out from view. After two hours walk the 
 road led down to the Elbe, where we crossed in a ferry 
 boat to Pillnitz, the seat of a handsome palace and gardens, 
 belonging to the King of Saxony. He happened to be there 
 at the time, on an afternoon excursion from Dresden ; but 
 
204 VIKNVS A -FOOT. 
 
 as we liad seen liim before, in the latter place, we passed 
 directly on, only pausing to admire the flower-beds in the 
 palace court. The King is a tall, benevolent looking man, 
 and is apparently much liked by his people. As far as 1 
 have yet seen, Saxony is a prosperous and happy country 
 The people are noted all over Germany for their honest, 
 social character, which is written on their cheerful, open 
 countenances. On our entrance into the Saxon Switzerland, 
 at Pillnitz, we were delighted with the neatness and home 
 like appearance of the villages. Every body greeted us ; 
 if we asked for information, they gave it cheerfully. I felt 
 willing to say, in the words of an old ballad, which I believe 
 Longfellow has translated : 
 
 " The fairest kingdom on this earth, 
 It is the Saxon landl" 
 
 Keeping the left bank of the Elbe, we passed over mea 
 dows purple with the tri-colored violet, and every little bank 
 was bright with cowslips. At length the path led down into 
 a cleft or ravine filled with trees, whose tops were on a level 
 with the country around. This is a peculiar feature of 
 Saxon scenery. There are many of these clefts, some of 
 which are several hundred feet deep, having walls of per. 
 pendicular rock, in the crevices of which the mountain pine 
 roots itself and grows to a tolerable height without any 
 apparent soil to keep it alive. We descended by a foot-path 
 into this ravine, called the Liebethaler Grund. It is wider 
 than many of the others, having room enough for a consider 
 able stream and several mills. The sides are of sandstone 
 rock, quite perpendicular. As we proceeded, it grew nar 
 
THE UTTKWAl.DKK GHl M). 20,5 
 
 rower arid deeper, while the trees covering its sides and 
 edges nearly shut out the sky. An hour s walk brought us 
 to the end, where we ascended gradually to the upper level 
 again. 
 
 After passing the night at the little village of Uttewalde, 
 a short distance further, we set out early in the morning for 
 the Bastci, a lofty precipice on the Elbe. The way led us 
 directly through the Uttewalder Grund, the most remarkable 
 of all these chasms. We went down by rocky steps into its 
 depths, which in the early morning were very cold. Water 
 dripped from the rocks, which, but a few feet apart, rose far 
 above us, and a little rill made its way along the bottom, 
 into which the sun has never shone. Heavy masses of rock. 
 which had tumbled down from the sides, encumbered the 
 way, and tall pine trees sprang from every cleft. In one 
 place the defile is only four feet wide, and a large mass of 
 rock, fallen from above, has lodged near the bottom, making 
 a low arch, under which the traveller has to creep. After 
 going under two or three arches of this kind, the defile 
 widened, and an arrow cut upon a rock directed us to a side 
 path, which branched off into the mountains. Here the 
 masses of stone immediately assumed another form. They 
 projected like shelves sometimes as much as twenty feet 
 from the perpendicular walls, and hung over the way, 
 threatening to break off every moment. I felt glad when 
 we had passed under them. Then, as we ascended further, 
 we saw pillars of rock separated entirely from the side of 
 the mountain, and rising a hundred feet in height, with trees 
 growing on their summits. They stood there gray and 
 time-worn, like the ruins of a Titan temple. 
 
20C VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The path finally led ns out into the forest and through 
 the clustering pine trees, to the summit of the Bastei. An 
 inn has been erected in the woods, and an iron balustrade 
 placed around the rock. Protected by this, we advanced to 
 the end of the precipice and looked down on the swift Elbe, 
 more than seven hundred feet below ! Opposite, through 
 the blue mists of morning, rose Konigstein, crowned with an 
 impregnable fortress, and the crags of Lilienstein, with a fine 
 forest around their base, frowned from the left bank. On 
 both sides were horrible precipices of gray rock, with rugged 
 trees hanging from the crevices. A hill rising on one side 
 of the Bastei, terminates suddenly a short distance from it, 
 in an abrupt precipice. In the intervening space stand 
 three or four of those rock-columns, several hundred feet 
 high, with their tops nearly on a level with the Bastei. A 
 wooden bridge has been thrown across from one to the 
 other, and the traveller passes over it, looking on the trees 
 and rocks far below him, until he reaches the hill, where a 
 steep zigzag path takes him down to the Elbe. 
 
 We crossed the river for the fourth time at the foot of the 
 Bastei, and walked along its right bank towards Konigstein. 
 The injury caused by the inundation was everywhere apparent. 
 The receding flood had left a deposit of sand, in many places 
 several feet deep, on the rich meadows, so that the labor of 
 years will be requisite to remove it and restore the land to 
 an arable condition. Even the farm-houses on the hillside, 
 some distance from the river, had been reached, and the 
 long grass hung in the highest branches of the fruit trees. 
 The people were at work trying to repair the injuries, but 
 they will fall heavily upon the poorer classes. 
 
THE FORTRESS OF KONIGSTEIN. 201 
 
 The mountain of Kuuigstein is twelve hundred feet high, 
 A precipice, varying from one to three hundred feet in 
 height, runs entirely round the summit, which is flat, and a 
 mile and a half in circumference. This has been converted into 
 a fortress, whose natural advantages make it entirely impreg 
 nable. During the Thirty Years War and the late war 
 with Napoleon, it was the only place in Saxony unoccupied 
 by the enemy. Hence it is used as a depository for the 
 arc-hives and royal treasures, in times of danger. By giving 
 up our passports at the door, we received permission to 
 enter, and were furnished \\ ith a guide around the battle 
 ments. There is quite a little village on the summit, with 
 gardens, fields, and a wood of considerable size. The only 
 entrance is by a road cut through the rock, which is strongly 
 guarded. A well seven hundred feet deep supplies the 
 fortress with water, and there are storehouses sufficient to 
 hold supplies for many years. The view from the ramparts 
 is glorious, embracing the whole of the Saxon Highlands, as 
 far as the lofty Schneeberg in Bohemia. On the other side, 
 the eye follows the windings of the Elbe, as far as the spires 
 of Dresden. Lilienstein, a mountain of exactly similar for 
 mation, but somewhat higher, stands directly opposite. On 
 walking around the ramparts, the guide pointed out a little 
 square tower standing on the brink of a precipice, with a 
 ledge, about two feet wide, running around it, just below 
 the windows. He said, that during the reign of Augustus 
 the Strong, a baron attached to his court, rose in his sleep 
 after a night of revelry and stepping out of the window, 
 stretched himself at full length along the ledge. A guard 
 fortunately observed his situation and informed Augustus 
 
208 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of it, who had him bound and secured with cords, and then 
 awakened by music. It was a good lesson, and one which 
 no doubt sobered him for the future. 
 
 Passing through the little city of Konigstein, we walked 
 on to Schandau, the capital of the Saxon Switzerland, situ 
 ated on the left bank. It had sustained great damage from 
 the flood, the whole place having been literally under water. 
 Here we turned up a narrow valley which led to the Kuh- 
 stall, some eight miles distant. The mountain sides, as usual, 
 were of steep gray rock, but wide enough apart to give room 
 to some lovely meadows, with here and there a rustic cottage. 
 The mountain maidens, in their bright red dresses, with a 
 fanciful scarf bound around the head, made a romantic addi 
 tion to the scene. There were some quiet secluded nooks, 
 where the light of day stole in dimly through the thick foli 
 age above and the wild stream rushed less boisterously over 
 the rocks. We sat down to rest in one of these cool retreats, 
 and made the glen ring with a cheer for America. 
 
 As we advanced further into the hills the way became 
 darker and wilder. We heard the sound of falling water in 
 a little dell on one side, and going nearer, saw a picturesque 
 fall of about fifteen feet. Great masses of black rock were 
 piled together, over which the mountain-stream fell in a 
 snowy sheet. The pines above and around grew so thick 
 and close, that not a sunbeam could enter, and a mysterious 
 twilight pervaded the spot. In Greece it would have been 
 chosen for an oracle. I have seen, somewhere, a picture of 
 the Spirit of Poetry, sitting beside just such a cataract, and 
 truly the nymph could choose no more appropriate dwelling. 
 But alas for sentiment ! while we were admiring its pic- 
 
THE KUHSTALL. 209 
 
 turesque beauty, we did not notice a man who came from a 
 near hut and went up behind the rocks. All at once there 
 was a roar of water, and a strong torrent came pouring down. 
 I looked up, and lo ! there he stood, with a gate in his hand 
 which had held the water imprisoned, looking down at us to 
 observe our admiration. I ordered him to shut it up again/ 
 and he rejoined us in haste, lest he should lose his fee for 
 the sight. 
 
 Our road now left the valley and ascended through a forest 
 to the Kuhstall, (Cow s Stable,) which we came upon at once. 
 It is a remarkable natural arch, through a rocky wall or 
 rampart, one hundred and fifty feet thick. Passing through, 
 we came at the other end to the edge of a very deep preci 
 pice, while the rock towered abruptly far above. Below 
 us lay a deep circular valley, two miles in diameter, and sur 
 rounded on every side by ranges of crags, such as we saw 
 on the Bastei. It was entirely covered with a pine forest, 
 and there only appeared to be two or three narrow defiles 
 which gave it a communication with the world. The top of 
 the Kuhstall can be reached by a path which runs up through 
 a split in the rock, directly to the summit. It is just wido 
 enough for one person to squeeze himself through ; pieces 
 of wood have been fastened in as steps, and the rocks in 
 many places close completely above. The place derives its 
 name from having been used by the mountaineers as a hiding, 
 place for their cattle in time of war. 
 
 Next morning we descended by another crevice in the 
 rock to the lonely valley, which we crossed, and climbed 
 the Little Winterberg on the opposite side. There is a wide 
 and rugged view from a tower on a precipitous rock near the 
 
210 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 summit, erected to commemorate the escape of Prince 
 Augustus of Saxony, who, being pursued by a mad stag 
 rescued himself by a lucky blow when on the very brink, 
 Among the many wild valleys that lay between the hills 
 we saw scarcely one without the peculiar rocky formation 
 which gives to Saxon scenery its most interesting character, 
 They resemble the remains of some mighty work of art, 
 rather than one of the thousand varied forms in which 
 Nature delights to clothe herself 
 
 The Great Winterberg, which is reached by another hour s 
 walk along an elevated ridge, is the highest of the moun 
 tains, celebrated for the grand view from its summit We 
 found the handsome Swiss hotel recently built there, full of 
 tourists who had come to enjoy the scene, but the morning 
 clouds hid every thing. We ascended the tower, and look 
 ing between them as they rolled by, caught glimpses of the 
 broad landscape below. The Giant s Mountains in Silesia 
 were hidden by the mist, but sometimes when the wind 
 freshened, we could see beyond the Elbe into Bohemian 
 Switzerland, where the long Schneeberg rose conspicuous 
 above the smaller mountains. Leaving the other travellers 
 to wait at their leisure for clearer weather, we set off for 
 the Prebischthor, in company with two or three students 
 from the Polytechnic School in Dresden. An hour s walk 
 over high hills, whose forest clothing had been swept off by 
 fire a few years before, brought us to the spot. 
 
 The Prebischthor is a natural arch, ninety feet high, in a 
 wall of rock which projects at right angles from the precipi 
 tous side of the mountain. A narrow path leads over the 
 top of the arch to the end of the rock, where, protected by 
 
TTIE AUSTRIAN FRO\Tli:i;. 211 
 
 a railing, the traveller ^-eins to hang in the air. Flic vallev 
 is far below him mountains rise up on either side and only 
 the narrow bridge connects him with the earth. W? 
 descended by a wooden staircase to the bottom of the arch. 
 near which a rustic inn is built against the rock, and thence 
 into the valley below, which we followed through rude and 
 lonely scenery, to Hirnischkretschen (!) on the Elbe. 
 
 Crossing the river again for the sixth and last time, we 
 followed the right bank to Neidergrund, the first Austrian 
 village. Here our passports were vised for Prague, and we 
 were allowed to proceed without any examination of bag 
 gage. I noticed a manifest change in our fellow travellers 
 the moment we crossed the border. They appeared anxious 
 and careful ; if we happened to speak of the state of the 
 country, they always looked around to see if anybody was 
 near, and if we even passed a workman on the road, quickly 
 changed to some other subject. They spoke much of the 
 jealous strictness of the government, and from what I heard 
 from Austrians themselves, there may have been ground 
 for their cautiousness. We walked seven or eight miles 
 along the bank of the Elbe, to Tetschen, there left our com 
 panions and took the road to Teplitz. I was pleasantly dis 
 appointed on entering Bohemia. Instead of a dull, uninter 
 esting country, as I expected, it is a land full of the most 
 lovely scenery. There is every thing which can gratify 
 the eye high blue mountains, valleys of the sweetest pas 
 toral aspect, and romantic old ruins. The very name of 
 Bohemia is associated with wild and wonderful legends, of 
 the rude barbaric ages. Even the chivalric tales of the 
 feudal times of Germany grow tame beside these earlier and 
 
212 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 darker histories. The fallen fortresses of tli Rhine, or the 
 robber-castles of the Odemvald, had not for me so exciting 
 an interest as the shapeless ruins cumbering these lonely 
 mountains. The civilized Saxon race was left behind ; I 
 saw around me the features and heard the language of one 
 of those rude Sclavonic tribes, whose original home was on 
 the vast steppes of Central Asia. I have rarely enjoyed 
 travelling more than our first two days journey towards 
 Prague. The range of the Erzgebirge ran along on our 
 right ; the snow still lay in patches upon it, but the valleys 
 between, with their little clusters of white cottages, were 
 green and beautiful. 
 
 About six miles before reaching Teplitz, we passed Kulm, 
 the great battle-field, which in a measure decided the fate of 
 Napoleon. He sent Vandamme with 40,000 men to attack 
 the allies before they could unite their forces, and thus effect 
 their complete destruction. Only the almost despairing 
 bravery of the Russian guards under Ostermann, who held 
 him in check until the allied troops united, defeated Napo 
 leon s design. At the junction of the roads, where the fight 
 ing was hottest, the Austrians have erected a monument to 
 one of their generals. Not far from it is that of Prussia, 
 simple and tasteful. A woody hill near, with the little vil 
 lage of Kulm at its foot, was the station occupied by 
 Vandamme at the commencement of the battle. There is 
 now a beautiful chapel on its summit, which can be seen far 
 and wide. A little distance further, the Emperor of Russia 
 has erected a third monument to the memory of the Rus 
 sians who fell. Four lions rest on the base of the pedestal, 
 and on the top of the shaft, forty-five feet high, Victory is 
 
TIN: r. viii- OF TKi-mx. 
 
 represented as rnjrrax in^ tin- date, " Aug. 30, 1813," on a 
 shield. The dark, pine covered mountains on the right, 
 overlook the whole fieM and the valley of Teplitz ; Napo 
 leon rode ah.ng their cn-sts several days after the battle, to 
 witness the scene of his defeat. 
 
 Teplitz lies in a lovely valley, several miles wide, bounded 
 by the PM.liriiiian mountains on one side, and the Erzgebirge 
 on tlie otlu-r. One straggling peak is crowned with a pic 
 turesque ruin, at whose foot the spacious bath-buildings lie 
 half hidden in foliage. As we walked down the principal 
 street, I noticed that nearly every house was a hotel ; in 
 summer the usual average of visitors is five thousand. The 
 water, n-s.-inhh- those of the celebrated Carlsbad; they are 
 warm, and particularly efficacious in rheumatism and diseases 
 of like character. After leaving Teplitz, the road turned 
 to the east, towards a lofty mountain, which we had seen 
 the morning before. The peasants, as they passed by, salut 
 ed us with " Christ greet you !" 
 
 We stopped for the night at the foot of the peak called 
 the Milleschauer, and must have ascended nearly 2,000 feet, 
 for we had a wide view the next morning, although the mists 
 and clouds hid the half of it. The weather being so un 
 favorable, we decided not to ascend, and taking leave of the 
 Jena student who came there for that purpose, descended 
 through green fields and orchards snowy with blossoms, to 
 Lobositz, on the Elbe. Here we reached the plains again, 
 where every thing wore the luxuriance of summer, and it 
 was a pleasant change from the dark and rough scenery we 
 had left. The road passed through Theresienstadt, the for 
 tress of Northern Bohemia. The little city is surrounded 
 
214 vi i:\vs A- FOOT. 
 
 by a double wall and moat, which can be filled with water, 
 rendering it almost impregnable. In the morning we were 
 ferried over the Moldau, and after journeying nearly all day 
 across barren, elevated plains, saw late in the afternoon the 
 sixty-seven spires of Prague below us ! The dark clouds 
 which hung over the hills, gave us little time to look upon 
 the singular scene ; and wo were soon comfortably settled 
 in the half-barbaric, half-Asiatic city, with a pleasant pros 
 pect of seeing its wonders on the morrow. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SCENES IN PRAGUE. 
 
 Impressions of Prague Past and Present-The Moldau Bridge .Johannes of Nepo- 
 muck A Daj Dreain The Cathedral The Shrine of Nepomuck Jt-suitlcal 
 Muafo-An Attack of Jews-The Old Hebrew Cemetery. 
 
 PRAGUE, May, 1846. 
 
 I PEEL as it out of the world in this strange, fantastic, yet 
 beautiful old city. We have been rambling all morning 
 through its winding streets, stopping sometimes at a church 
 to see the dusty tombs ami shrines, or to hear the fine music 
 which accompanies the morning mass. I have seen no city 
 yet which so forcibly reminds me of the Past. The lan 
 guage adds to the illusion. Three-fourths of the people in 
 the streets speak Bohemian, and many of the signs are 
 written in the same tongue, which lias no resemblance t > 
 German. The palace of the Bohemian kings still looks 
 down on the city from the western heights, and their tombs 
 stand in the Cathedral of the holy Johannes. When one 
 has climbed the stone .steps leading to the fortress, there, is a 
 glorious proven before him. lYa-ne with her spires and 
 
21(j VJKWS A-Jr UOl, 
 
 towers, lies in the valley below, through which curves the 
 Moldau around its green islands until it disappears among 
 the northern hills. The fantastic Byzantine architecture of 
 many of the churches and towers, gives the place a peculiar 
 oriental appearance. They seem to have been transported 
 hither from Persia or Tartary. Its streets are full of 
 palaces, fallen and inhabited now by the poorer classes. Its 
 famous University, which once boasted forty thousand stu 
 dents, has long since ceased to exist. In a word, it is, like 
 Venice, a fallen city ; though, as in Venice, the improving 
 spirit of the age is beginning to give it a little life, and to 
 send a quicker stream through its narrow and winding 
 arteries. The railroad which, joining that to Urimn, con- 
 nects it with Vienna, will be finished this year; and in 
 anticipation of the increased business which will follow, 
 speculators are building enormous hotels in the suburbs and 
 tearing down the old buildings to give place to more 
 splendid edifices. These operations, and the chain bridge 
 which spans the Moldau towards the southern end of the 
 city, are the only things which are modern everything 
 else is old, strange and solemn. 
 
 Having first determined a few of the principal points, we 
 wandered through its difficult labyrinths, seeking every place 
 of note or interest. Reaching the bridge at last, we decided 
 to cross and ascend to the Hradschin the palace of the Bohe 
 mian kings. The bridge was commenced in 1337, and was 
 not finished for a hundred and fifty years. Such was the way 
 the old Germans did their work, and they made a structure 
 which will last a thousand years longer. Every pier is sur 
 mounted with groups of saints and martyrs, all so worn and 
 
TUK MOLDAU IWIDGK. ^17 
 
 weather-beaten, tli.it then is little left of their beauty, if 
 they ever had any. The most important -.1 them, at lea>t 
 to Bohemian-*, is that of the holy Johannes of Xepomuck," 
 now considered as the patron --aim of the land. Many cen 
 turies ago he was a priest whom one of the kings threw from 
 the bridge into the Moldau. because he refused to reveal to 
 him what the |iieen confessed. The legend says the body 
 swam .for some time on the river, with five stars around its 
 head. The l<.th.f M.iv. the dav before our arri\al,was 
 that set apart tor his particular honor ; the statue on the 
 bridge was covered with an arch of given houghs and flow 
 ers, and the shrine lighted with burning tapers. A railing 
 was erected around it, near which numbers of the believer-* 
 were kneeling. The bridge \\a^ <-o\ ( Mvd with passers-by, 
 who all took their hats off until they had passed. Had it 
 been a place of worship, the art would have been natural 
 and appropriate, but to uncover before a statue seemed to us 
 too much like idolatry, and we ventured over without doing 
 it. A few years ; li: ,, it might have been dangerous, but now 
 we only met with scowling looks. There are many such 
 shrines and statues through the city, and I noticed that the 
 people- always removed their hats and crossed themselves in 
 passing. On the hill above the western end of the city, 
 stands a chapel m the *pot where the Bavarians put an end 
 to Protestantism in Bohemia A// tfn 1 .vv//y/, and the deluded 
 peasantry ot the land make pilgrimages t this spot, as if it 
 were rendered holy by an act over which Religion weeps! 
 
 Amending the broad flight of steps to the Hr.idschin, 1 
 paused a moment to gaze upon the scene below. A slight 
 blue haze hung over the clustering towers, and the city glim 
 
218 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 mered through it, like a city seen in a dream. It was well 
 that it should so appear, for not less dim and misty are the 
 memories that haunt its walls. There was no need of a 
 magician s wand to bid that light cloud shadow forth the 
 forms of other times. They came uncalled for, even by fancy. 
 Far, far back in the past, I saw the warrior-princess who 
 founded the kingly city the renowned Libussa, whose 
 prowess and talent inspired the women of Bohemia to rise 
 at her death and storm the land, that their sex might rule 
 where it obeyed before. On the mountain opposite once 
 stood the palace of the bloody Wlaska, who reigned with 
 her Amazon band for seven years over half Bohemia. Those 
 streets below had echoed with the fiery words of Huss, 
 
 the castle of whose follower the blind Ziska, who met 
 
 
 
 and defeated the armies of the German Empire moulders 
 on the mountain above. Many a year of war and tempest 
 has passed over the scene. The hills around have borne the 
 armies of Wallenstein and Frederick the Great ; the war-cries 
 of Bavaria, Sweden and Poland have echoed in the valley, 
 and the glare of the midnight cannon or the flames of burning 
 palaces have often reddened the blood-dyed waters of the 
 Moldau ! 
 
 But this was a day-dream. The throng of people coming 
 up the steps awaked me. We turned and followed the 
 crowd through several spacious courts, until we reached the 
 Cathedral, which is magnificent in the extreme. The dark 
 Gothic pillars, whose arches unite high above, are surround 
 ed with gilded monuments and shrines, and the side chapels 
 are rich in elaborate decorations. A priest was speaking 
 from a pulpit in the centre, in the Bohemian language. 
 
THE SI1KINK OF NEI OMICK. J 1 U 
 
 which not being the most intelligible, I went to the other 
 end to see the shrine of the holy Johannes of Nepomuck. 
 It stands at thf n-l of one of the side aisles, and is composed 
 of a mass of gorgeous silver ornaments. At a little distance, 
 on each M lr, han^r lour mas>i\ c lamps of silver, constantly 
 burning. The pyramid of statues, of the same precious 
 metal, has at each corner a richly carved urn, three feet 
 high, with a crimson lamp burning at the top. Above, four 
 silver an<r< K the M/C of life, are suspended in the air, hold 
 ing up the corners of a splendid drapery of crimson and 
 gold. If these figures were melted down and distributed 
 among the poor and miserable people who inhabit Bohemia, 
 they would then be angels indeed, bringing happiness and 
 blessing to many a ruined home-altar. In the same chapel 
 is the splendid burial-place of the Bohemian kings, of gilded 
 marble and alabaster. On our return to the bridge, wo 
 stepped into the St. Nicholas Church, which was built by 
 the Jesuits. The interior has a rich effect, its colors being 
 only brown and gold. The music chained me there a long 
 time. There was a grand organ, assisted by a full orchestra 
 and large choir of singers. At every sound of the priest s 
 bell, the flourish of trumpets and deep roll of the drums 
 filled the dome with a burst of quivering sound, while the 
 giant pipes of the organ breathed out their full harmony 
 and the very air shook under the peal. It was a triumphal 
 strain ; the soul became filled with thoughts of power and 
 glory, and the senses were merged into one dim, indistinct 
 emotion of rapture. I could almost forgive the Jesuits the 
 superstition and bigotry they have planted in the minds of 
 i, for the indescribable enjoyment that music gave. 
 
220 vi i:\v- \ HJOT. 
 
 When it ceased, we went out to the world again, and the 
 recollection of it is now hut a dream dream whose 
 influence will last longer than many more palpable 
 reality. 
 
 There is another part of Prague which is not less interest 
 ing, though much less poetical the Jews City. In our 
 rambles we got into it before we were aware, but hurried 
 immediately out of it again, perfectly satisfied with one visit. 
 We entered first a dark, narrow street, whose sides were 
 lined with booths of old clothes and second-hand articles. 
 A sharp-featured old woman thrust a coat before my face, 
 exclaiming, " Herr, buy a fine coat !" Instantly a man as 
 sailed me on the other side, " Here are vests ! pantaloons ! 
 shirts !" I broke loose from them and ran on, but it only 
 became worse. One seized me by the arm, crying, " Lte- 
 ber Herr, buy some stockings !" and another grasped my 
 coat ; " Hats, Herr ! hats ! buy something, or sell me xo //> 
 thing r I rushed desperately on, shouting "no! no!" 
 with all my might, and finally got safely through. M v 
 friend having escaped their clutches also, we found our way 
 to the old Jewish Cemetery. It stands in the middle of the 
 city, and has not been used for a hundred years. Wr 
 could find no entrance, but by climbing upon the ruins of 
 an old house near, I looked over the wall. A cold shudder 
 crept over me, to think that warm, joyous Life, as I then felt 
 it, should grow chill and pass back to clay in such a foul char 
 nel-house. Large mounds of earth, covered with black, de 
 caying grave-stones, which were almost hidden under the 
 weeds and rank grass, filled the enclosure. A few dark, 
 crooked alder-trees grew among the crumbling tombs, and 
 
TIIK I1KHKKW CKMKTKRT- 221 
 
 gave the scene an air of gloom and desolation, almost fear* 
 ful. The dust of many a generation lies under these mould 
 ering stones ; they now scarcely occupy a thought in the 
 minds of the living ; and yet the present race toils and seckg 
 for wealth alone, that it may pass away and leave nothing 
 behind not even a memory for that which will follow I 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 JOURWEY THROUGH BOHEMIA AND MORATIA. 
 
 ITie Scenery f Bohemia The Inhabitants Wayside Shrines Disgusting Image** 
 Devotion of the People Iglau The Peasant Girls Bohemian Teams A Religiort 
 Pageant A New Companion His Astonishment Lodging with the Lancers Tin 
 City of Znaim Talk with the Handworker Rain A Drunken Baron Summei 
 Scenery First View of the Alps The Valley of the Danube Arrival at Vienna, 
 
 OUR road for the first two days after leaving Prague led 
 across broad, elevated plains, over which a cold wind camo 
 direct from the summits of the Riesengebirge, far to our left. 
 Were it not for the pleasant view of the rich valley of the 
 Upper Elbe, which afforded a delightful relief to the mono 
 tony of the hills around us, the journey would have been 
 exceedingly tiresome. The snow still glistened on the dis 
 tant mountains ; but when the sun shone out, the broad val 
 ley below, clad in the luxuriance of summer, and extending 
 for at least fifty miles with its woods, meadows, and white 
 tillages, was like a glimpse of Paradise. The long ridges 
 over which we travelled extended for nearly a hundred and 
 fifty miles from the Elbe almost to the Danube. The 
 soil is not fertile, the inhabitants are exceedingly poor, and 
 
BOHEMIA AND ITS PEOPLK. 223 
 
 from our own experience, the climate must be unhealthy. 
 In winter the country is exposed to the full sweep of the 
 northern winds, and in summer the sun shines down on it 
 with unbroken force. There are few streams running through 
 it : and the highest part, which divides the waters of the Baltic 
 from those of the Black Sea, is rilled for a long distance with 
 marshes and standing pools, whose exhalations must inevi 
 tably subject the inhabitants to disease. This was percepti 
 ble in their sallow, sickly countenances ; many of the women 
 are afflicted with the goitre, or swelling of the throat ; and I 
 noticed that towards evening they always carefully muffled 
 up their faces. According to their own statements, the 
 people suffer much from the cold in winter, as the few forests 
 the country affords are in possession of the noblemen to 
 whom the land belongs, and who are not willing the trees 
 should be cut. The dominions of these petty despots are 
 marked along the road with as much precision as the bound 
 aries of an empire. We saw sometimes their stately castle* 
 at a distance, forming quite a contrast to the poor scattering 
 villages of the peasants. 
 
 At Kollin, the road, which had been leading eastward in 
 the direction of Olmiitz, turned to the south, and we took 
 leave of the Elbe after tracing back his course from Magde 
 burg nearly to his home in the mountains of Silesia, The 
 country was barren and monotonous, but a bright sunshine 
 made it look somewhat cheerful We passed, every few 
 paces, some shrine or statue by the roadside. This had 
 struck me, immediately on crossing the border, in the Saxon 
 Switzerland the boundary of Saxony was that of Protest 
 antism. But here in the heart of Bohemia, the extent to 
 
224 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 which this image worship is carried, exceeds anything I had 
 imagined. There is something pleasing as well as poetical 
 in the idea of a shrine by the wayside, where the weary tra 
 veller may rest, and lift his heart in thankfulness to the 
 Power which protects him ; it was no doubt a pious spirit 
 which placed them there ; but the people appear to pay the 
 reverence to the picture which they should give to its spi 
 ritual image, and the pictures themselves are so shocking 
 and ghastly, that they seem better calculated to excite hor 
 ror than reverence. It is truly repulsive to look on images 
 of the Saviour covered with blood, and generally with 
 swords sticking in different parts of the body. The Al 
 mighty is represented as an old man, wearing a Bishop s 
 mitre, and the Virgin always wears a gay silk robe, with 
 beads and other ornaments. From the miserable painting, 
 the faces often have an expression that would have been 
 exceedingly ludicrous, if the shock given to our feelings of 
 reverence were not predominant. The poor degraded pea 
 sants always uncovered or crossed themselves when passing 
 by these shrines, but it appeared to be rather the effect of 
 habit than any good impulse, for the Bohemians are noted 
 all over Germany for their dishonesty, and we learned by 
 experience that they deserve it. It is not to be wondered 
 at, either ; for a people so poor and miserable and oppressed 
 will soon learn to take advantage of all who appear better 
 Off than themselves. They had one custom which was touch, 
 ing and beautiful. At the sound of the church bell, as it 
 rang the morning, noon and evening chimes, every one 
 uncovered, and repeated to himself a prayer. Often, as we 
 rested at noon on a bank by the roadside, that voice spoke 
 
PEASANT GIRLS- 225 
 
 out from the house of worship, and every one heeded its tone. 
 Would that to this innate spirit of reverence were iiuded 
 the light of Knowledge, which a tyrannical government 
 denies them! 
 
 On the third night of our journey we stopped at the little 
 village of Stecken, and the next morning, after three hours 
 walkover the ridgy heights, reached the old Moravian city 
 of Iglati, built on a hill. It happened to be Corpus Christi 
 day, and the peasants of the neighborhood were hastening 
 there in their gayest dresses. The young women wore a 
 crimson scarf around the head, with long fringed and em 
 broidered ends hanging over the shoulders, or falling in one 
 smooth fold from the crown. They were attired in black 
 velvet vests, with full wh te sleeves, and skirts of some 
 gay color, which were short enough to show to advan 
 tage their red stockings and polished shoe-buckles. Manv 
 of them were not deficient in personal beauty, and there 
 was a gipsy-like wildness m fheir eyes, which, combined 
 with their rich hair and graceful costume, reminded me of the 
 Italian maidens. The towns, too, with their open squares 
 and arched passages, have quite a, southern look ; but the 
 damp, gloomy weather was enough to dispel any illusion 
 of this kind. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Tglau, and, in fact, through the 
 whole of Bohemia, we saw some of thf. strangest teams that 
 could well be imagined. I thought the Frankfort milk- 
 women, with their donkeys and hearse-liko carts, comical 
 objects enough, but they bear no comparison with these 
 Bohemian turn-outs. Dogs for economy s sake, perhaps* 
 generally supply the place of oxen or horses, and i* is no 
 
 10* 
 
220 VIEWS A-FOOI 
 
 uncommon tiling to see three large mastiffs abreast, hat 
 nessed to a country-cart, A donkey and a cow together; 
 are sometimes met with : and one man, going to the festival 
 af Iglau, had his wife and children in a little wagon, drawn 
 by a dog and a donkey. These two, however, did not 
 work well together ; the dog would bite his lazy companion, 
 and the man s time was constantly employed in whipping 
 him off the donkey, and in whipping the donkey away from 
 the side of the road. Once I saw a wagon drawn by a dog, 
 with a woman pushing behind, while a man, doubtless her 
 lord and master, sat comfortably within, smoking his pipe 
 with the greatest complacency ! The very climax of all 
 was a woman and a dog harnessed together, taking a load 
 of country produce to market ! I hope, for the honor of the 
 country, it was not emblematic of woman s condition there. 
 But as we saw hundreds of them breaking stone along the 
 road, and occupied at other laborious and not less menial 
 labor, there is too much reason to fear that it is so. 
 
 As we approached Iglau, we heard the sound of cannon ; 
 the crowd increased, and following the road, we came to an 
 open square, where a large number were already assembled; 
 shrines were erected around it, hung with pictures and pine 
 boughs, and a long procession of children was passing down 
 the side as we entered. We went towards the centre, 
 where Neptune and his Tritons poured the water from 
 their urns into two fountains, and stopped to observe the 
 Bcene. The procession came on, headed by a large body 
 of priests, in white robes, with banners and crosses. They 
 stopped before the principal shrine, in front of the Rathhaus, 
 and began a solemn religious ceremony. The whole crowd 
 
A NKW COMPANION. 227 
 
 of not less than ton thousand persons, stood silent and 
 uncovered, and the deep voice of the officiating priest was 
 heard over the whole square. At times the multitude sang 
 responses, the sound swelling and rolling up like a mighty 
 wave, until it broke and slowly sank down again to the 
 deepest stillness. The effect was marred by the rough voices 
 of the officers commanding the soldiery, and the volleys of 
 musketry which were occasionally discharged, degrading 
 the solemnity of the pageant to the level of a military 
 parade. 
 
 In the afternoon we were overtaken by a travelling h tnd- 
 werke , on his way to Vienna, who joined company with us. 
 We walked several miles together, talking on various mat 
 ters, without his having the least suspicion that we were not 
 Germans. He had been at Trieste, and at length began 
 speaking of the great beauty of the American vessels there, 
 " Yes," said I, " our vessels are admired all over the world." 
 He -tared at me without comprehending ; your vessels ?" 
 " Our country s," I replied ; " we are Americans !" I can 
 still see his look of incredulous astonishment, and hear the 
 amazed tone with which he cried, " You Americans it is 
 impossible !" We convinced him nevertheless, to his great 
 joy, for all through Germany there is a curiosity to see our 
 countrymen and a kindly feeling towards them. " I shall 
 write down in my book," said he, " so that I shall never 
 forget it, that I once travelled with two Americans !" We 
 stopped together for the night at the only inn in a large, 
 beggarly village, where we obtained a frugal supper with 
 difficulty ; for a regiment of Polish lancers was quartered 
 there for the night, and the pretty Kellnerin was so busy in 
 
228 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 waiting on the officers that she had no rye lor wandering 
 journeymen, as she took us to be. She even told us the 
 beds were all occupied and we must sleep on the floor. 
 Just, then the landlord came by. "Is it possible, Herr 
 Landlord," asked our new companion, " that there is no bed 
 here for us ? Have the goodness to look again, for we are 
 not in the habit of sleeping on the floor, like dogs ! " This 
 speech had its effect, for the KeUnerin was commanded to 
 find us beds. She came back unwillingly after a time, 
 and reported that two only were vacant. As a German bed 
 is only a yard wide, we pushed these two together, but they 
 were still too small for three persons, and I had a severe 
 cold in the morning, from sleeping crouched up against the 
 damp wall. 
 
 The next day we passed the dividing ridge which sepa 
 rates the waters of the Elbe from the Danube, and in the 
 evening arrived at Znaim, the capital of Moravia. The city 
 is built on a steep hill looking down on the valley of the 
 Thaya, whose waters mingle with the Danube near Press- 
 burg. The old castle on the height was formerly the resi 
 dence of the Moravian monarchs, and traces of the ancient 
 walls and battlements of the city are still to be seen. The 
 handwerker took us to the inn frequented by his craft the 
 leather-curriers and we conversed together until bed-time. 
 While telling me of the oppressive laws of Austria, the 
 degrading vassalage of the peasants, and the horrors of 
 the conscription system, he paused as in deep thought, and 
 looking at me with a suppressed sigh, said, " Is it not true, 
 America is free ? " I told him of our country and her insti 
 tutions, adding that though we were Dot yet as free as w 
 
A IJKI XKXX HAItnX. 
 
 hoped and wished to be, we enjoyed far more liberty than 
 any country in the world. " Ah ! " said he, " it is hard to 
 leave one s fatherland, oppressed as it is, but T wish I could 
 go to America ! " 
 
 We left next morning at eight o clock, after having done 
 full justice to the beds of the "Golden (Stag," and taken 
 leave of Florian Fraiicke, the honest and hearty old land 
 lord. Znaim appears to great advantage from the Vienna 
 road; but the wind which blew with fury against our backs, 
 would not permit us to look long at it, but pushed us on 
 towards the Austrian border. In the course of three hours 
 we \\eiv obliged to stop at a little village ; it blew a hurri 
 cane, and tlie r,-i in began to soak through our garmonts. 
 Here we stayed three hours among the wagoners, who 
 had itopped on account of the weather. Due miserable, 
 drunken wretch, whose face was disgustingly brutal and 
 repulsive, distinguished himself by insulting those around 
 him, and devouring like a beast, -large quantities of food 
 When the reckoning was given him, he declared he had al 
 ready paid, and on the waiter denying it, said, " Stop, I will 
 show you something!" pulled out his passport and pointed 
 to the name " Baron von Reitzenstein." It availed nothing ; 
 he had fallen so low that his title inspired no respect, and 
 when we left the inn they were still endeavoring to get theil 
 money, and threatening him with a summary proceeding if 
 the demand was not complied with. 
 
 Next morning the sky was clear, and a glorious day opened 
 before us. The country became more beautiful as we ap 
 proached the Danube ; the hills were covered with vine 
 yards, just in the tender green of their first leaves, and the 
 
230 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 rich valleys lay in Sabbath stillness in the warm sunshine. 
 Sometimes from an eminence we could see far and wide over 
 the garden-like slopes, where little white villages shone 
 among the blossoming fruit-trees. A chain of blue hills arose 
 in front, and I knew almost instinctively that they stood by 
 the Danube ; but when we climbed to the last height and 
 began to descend to the valley, where the river was still 
 hidden by luxuriant groves, I saw far to the southwest, a 
 range of faint, silvery summits, rising through the dim ether 
 like an airy vision. There was no mistaking those snowy 
 mountains. My heart bounded with a sudden thrill of rap 
 turous excitement at this first view of the Alps ! They were 
 at a great distance, and their outline was almost blended with 
 the blue drapery of air which clothed them. I gazed until 
 my vision became dim, and I could no longer trace their airy 
 lines. They called up images blended with the grandest 
 events in the world s history. I thought of the glorious 
 spirits who have looked upon them and trodden their rugged 
 sides of the storms in which they veil their countenances, 
 and the avalanches they hurl thundering to the valleys of 
 the voices of great deeds, which have echoed from their 
 crags over the wide earth and of the ages which have 
 broken, like the waves of a mighty sea, upon their ever 
 lasting summits ! 
 
 As we descended, the hills and forests shut out this sub 
 lime vision, and I looked to the wood-clothed mountains 
 opposite and tried to catch a glimpse of the current that roll 
 ed at their feet. We here entered upon a rich plain, about 
 ten miles in diameter, which lay between a backward sweep 
 of the hills and a curve of the Danube. It was covered 
 
ARRIVAL AT VIENNA. 231 
 
 with the richest grain, every thing wore the luxuriance of 
 summer, and we seem to have changed seasons since 
 leaving the dreary hills of Bohemia. Continuing over the 
 plain, we had on our left the fields of Wagram and Essling, 
 the scene of two of Napoleon s splendid victories. The out 
 posts of the Carpathians skirted the horizon that great 
 mountain range which stretches through Hungary to the 
 borders of Russia. 
 
 At length the road came to the river s side, and we crossed 
 on wooden bridges over two or three arms of the Danube, 
 all of which together were little wider than the Schuylkill 
 at Philadelphia. When we crossed the last bridge, we 
 came to an island covered with groves of the silver ash. 
 Crowds of people filled the cool walks; booths of refresh 
 ment stood by the roadside, and music was everywhere 
 heard. The road finally terminated in a circle, where 
 beautiful alleys radiated into the groves ; from the opposite 
 side a broad street lined with stately buildings extended 
 into the heart of the city, and through this avenue, filled 
 with crowds of carriages and people on their way to those 
 delightful walks, we entered Vienna ! 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 VIENNA. 
 
 Vienna The Ferdinand * Brldjre The Street* The Old City The Snbnrb* Bean- 
 ty of the Prater 8t. Stephen s Cathedral The Belvldere Gallery The Lower 
 Belvidere Historical Relic* Tho Respectful CuRtode The lr.n Stick Strauw 
 and his Band The Tomb of Beethoven Galleries of Art Tin- IIUJH rial Library 
 Cabinet of Natural History State Carriage* of Austria Prince Lln-ht.-i.-t.-inN 
 
 ^Gallery Correggio 8 Venus an.l Cupid The Imperial Armory The Crusty CusUxle 
 A Pole Relics vf the Past Ban m-rs of tin- Crusaders A Scene at the r..luv 
 Office Light Ik-arts and Empty Purses. 
 
 VIENNA, May 31. 1845. 
 
 I HAVE at last seen tlu> tlnnis.-nul wumlors of this great capi 
 tal this German Paris this connecting link l.dwc cn ilu- 
 civilization of Europe and the barbaric magnificence of the 
 East. It is pleasant to be again in a. city whose streets are 
 thronged with people, and resound with the din and bustle 
 of business. Although the end may be sordid for which so 
 many are laboring, yet the very sight of so much activity is 
 gratifying. It is peculiarly so to an American. After 
 residing in a foreign land for some time, the peculiarities of 
 our nation are more easily noticed ; I find in my country men 
 abroad a vein of restless energy a love for exciting action 
 
THE STREETS OF V!KN\A. 233 
 
 which to many of our good German friends is perfectly 
 incomprehensible. It may have been this activity which 
 me at OIK. a i.ivoral.le impression of Vienna. 
 
 The morning of onr arrival we sallied out from our lodg 
 ings in the Leopoldstadt, to explore the world before us. 
 Entering the hroad Praterstrasse, we passed down to the 
 little arm of the Danube, which separates tliis part of the 
 new city from the old. A row of magnificent coffee-houses 
 occupies the hank, and numbers of persons were taking their 
 breakfasts in the shady porticoes. The Ferdinand s Bri<l- -. 
 which crosses the stream, wan filled with people,; and in the 
 motley crowd we saw the dark-eyed Greek, and Turks in 
 their turbans and Howing robes Little brown Hungarian 
 hoys were selling hunches ot lilie*, and Italians with basket** 
 sf oranges stood by the sidewalk. The throng became 
 greater as we penetrated into the old city. The streets 
 were filled with carts and carriages, and as there are no 
 side-walks, it required constant attention to keep out of their 
 way. Splendid shops, fitted up with irreat taste, occupied 
 the whole of the lower stories, and goods of all kinds hung 
 beneath the canvas awnings in front of them. Almost 
 every store or shop was dedicated to some particular person 
 or place, which was represented on a large panel by the 
 door. The number of these paintings added much to the 
 brilliancy of the scene; and I was gratified to find, among 
 the images of kings and dukes, one dedicated " to the Ameri* 
 -an," with an Indian chief in full costume. 
 
 The A/fxff/t/t. or old city, which contains about sixty 
 thousand inhabitants, is completely separated from the sub- 
 urlis, the population of which, taking the whole extent within 
 
234 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the outer barrier, numbers nearly half a million. The eld 
 city is situated on a small arm of the Danube, and is encom 
 passed by a series of public promenades, gardens and walks, 
 varying from a quarter to half a mile in length, called the 
 Glacis. This once formed part of the fortifications of the 
 city, but as the suburbs grew up so rapidly on all sides, it 
 was appropriately changed to a public walk. It is a beauti 
 ful sight, to stand on the summit of the wall and look over 
 the broad Glacis, with its shady roads branching in every 
 direction, and filled with inexhaustible streams of people. 
 The Vorstaedte, or new cities, stretch in a circle around, 
 beyond this ; all the finest buildings front on the Glacis, 
 among which the splendid Vienna Theatre and the church 
 of Sf*n Carlo Borromeo are conspicuous. The mountains 
 of the Vienna Forest bound the view, with here and there a 
 stately castle on their woody summits. 
 
 There is no lack of places for pleasure and amusement. 
 Besides the numberless walks of the Glacis, there are the 
 Imperial Gardens, with their cool shades and flowers and 
 fountains ; the Augarten, laid out and opened to the public 
 by the Emperor Joseph : and the Prater, the largest and 
 most beautiful of all. It lies on an island formed by the 
 arms of the Danube, and is between two and three miles 
 square. From the circle at the end of the Praterstrasse, 
 broad carriage-ways extend through its forests of oak and 
 silver ash, and over its verdant lawns to the principal stream, 
 which bounds it on the north. These roads are lined with 
 stately horse-chestnuts, whose branches unite and form a 
 dense canopy, completely shutting out the sun. Every 
 afternoon the beauty and nobility of Vienna whirl through 
 
TIIK PRATER. 
 
 flio mo! p-ov, - s in their gay equipages, while the sidewalks 
 .in thnnijrril with pedestrians, and the innnberless tables 
 and sraN with which every house of refreshment is sur 
 rounded, are filled with merry guests. Here, on Sundays 
 and holidays, the people repair in thousands The woods 
 are full of tame deer, which run perfectly free over the 
 \vhoh- Prater. I saw several in one of the lawns, lying 
 own in the <rrass, with a number of children playing 
 around or sitting beside them. It is delightful to walk 
 there in the cool of the evening, when the paths are crowd 
 ed, and everybody is enjoying the release from the dusty 
 city. It is this free, social life which renders Vienna so at 
 tractive t<> foreigners, and yearly draws thousands of visitors 
 from all parts of Europe. 
 
 St. Stephen s Cathedral, in the centre of the old city, is 
 one of the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in Ger 
 many. Its unrivalled tower, which rises to the height of 
 four li und red and twenty-eight feet, is visible from every 
 part of Vienna. It is entirely of stone, most elaborately 
 ornamented. and is supposed to be the strongest in Europe. 
 The inside is solemn and grand , but the effect is injured by 
 tin- number of small chapels and shrines. In one of these 
 rext the remains of Prince Eugene of Savoy, der edit 
 Hitter" known in a ballad to every man, woman and child 
 in Germany. 
 
 The Belvidere Gallery fills thirty-five halls, and contains 
 three thousand pictures. It is absolutely bewildering to 
 walk through such vast collections ; you can do no more 
 than glance at each painting, and hurry by face after face, 
 and figure after figure, on which you would willingly gaze 
 
g36 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 for hours and inhale the atmosphere of beauty th.it Bi 
 them. Then after you leave, the brain is filled with their 
 forms radiant faces look upon you, and you see const;ntiv 
 in fancy, the calm brow of a Madonna, the sweet young 
 face of a child, or the blending of divine with mortal brant \ 
 in an angel s countenance. I endeavor, if possible, always 
 to make several visits to study those pictures which cling 
 first to the memory, and pass over those which make 
 .little or no impression. It is better to have a few images 
 fresh and enduring, than a confused and indistinct memory 
 of many. 
 
 The Lower Belvidere, separated from the ",. pper by a 
 large garden, laid out in the style of that at Versailles, con 
 tains the celebrated Ambrascr Sammlung, a collection of 
 armor. In the first hall I noticed the complete armor of 
 the Emperor Maximilian, for man and horse the armor of 
 Charles V., and Prince Moritz of Saxony, while the walls 
 were filled with figures of German nobles and knights, in 
 Ihe suits they wore in life. There is also the armor of the 
 great Baver of Trient," trabant of the Archduke Ferdi 
 nand. He was nearly nine feet in stature, and his spear, 
 (though not equal to Satan s in Paradise Lost, would still 
 make a tree of tolerable dimensions. In the second hall 
 we saw weapons taken from the Turkish army who besieged 
 Vienna, with the horse-tail standards of the Grand Vizier, 
 Kara Mustapha. The most interesting article was the 
 battle-axe of the unfortunate Monteznina, which was pro 
 bably given to the Emperor Charles V. by Cortez. It is a 
 plain instrument of dark colored stone, about three feel 
 long. 
 
RKI.ICS OF I AST HISTORY. 
 
 \V, aK. visited the /, ir^t Hirfn . Zci/x/ntHi. ;i collection 
 anna nn. I weapon.-,. belonging to tin- citi/enx ..t Vienna 
 It contains sixteen thousand weapons nnd suits .t armor. 
 in- lulling those plnndored from the Turks, when John Sobi 
 Bfki comjUi-r-d tin-in and relieved Vienna from the siege 
 Besides a great number of sabres, lances and horse-tails, 
 !hcre i> the hlo<>d-red banner of the Grand Vizier, as well 
 || his >kull ami shmnd. which is covered with sentences from 
 the Koran. On his return to Belgrade, after the defeat at 
 \ ienn-i, the Sultan sent him a bow-string, and he was ac 
 cordingly strangled. r rhe Anstrians having taken Belgrade 
 xome time alter, they opened his grave and carried off his 
 skull and .shroud as well as the bow-string, as relics 
 An .-t her large and richly embroidered banner, which hun<: 
 in a broad sheet from the ceiling, was far more intrusting to 
 me. It had once waved from the vessels of the Knight- 
 ot Malta, and had, perhaps, on the prow of the Grand 
 M ister a ship, led that romantic band to battle against the 
 Infidel. 
 
 A large number of peasants and common soldiers were ad 
 mitted to view the armory at the same time. The grave 
 custotlc who showed us the curiosities, explaining every thing 
 in phrases known by heart for years and making the same 
 starts of admiration whene\er be came to any thing peculiar 
 ly remarkable, singled us out as the two persons most worthy 
 t.f attention. Accordingly his remarks were directed entirely 
 , and his bumble countrymen might as well have been 
 invisible, for the notice he took of them. On passing out 
 we gave him a coin worth about fifteen cents, which hap 
 pened to be so much more than the others gave him, that 
 
238 VIEWS A-FOOI. 
 
 bowing graciously. In- invited us to write our nainob in tlw 
 album for strangers. While we were doing this, a poor hand 
 worker lingered behind, apparently for the same object 
 whom he scornfully dismissed, shaking the coin in his hand, 
 and saying: "The album is not for such as you it is tor 
 noble gentlemen !" 
 
 On our way through the city, we often noticed a house on 
 the southern side of St. Stephen s Platx, dedicated to "the 
 Iron Stick." In a niche by the window stood what ap 
 peared to be the limb of a tree, completely filled with nails, 
 which were driven in so thick that no part of the original 
 wood is visible. We learned afterwards the legend concern 
 ing it. The Vienna Forest is said to have extended, several 
 hundred years ago, to this place. A locksmith s apprentice 
 was enabled, by the devil s help, to make the iron bars and 
 padlock which confine the limb in its place ; every lock 
 smith s apprentice who came to Vienna after that, drove a 
 nail into it, until finally there was room for no more. It is 
 a singular legend, and whoever may have placed the limb 
 there originally, there it has remained for two or three hundred 
 years at least. 
 
 We spent two or three hours delightfully one evening in 
 listening to Strauss s band. We went about sunset to the 
 Odeon, a new building in the Leopoldstadt. It has a refresh 
 ment hall nearly five hundred feet long, with a handsome 
 fresco ceiling and glass doors opening into a garden walk of 
 the same length. Both the hall and garden were filled with 
 tables, where the people seated themselves as they came, 
 and conversed sociably over their coffee and wine. The 
 orchestra was placed in a little ornamental temple in the 
 
BANDk 23a 
 
 garden, in front of which I stationed myself, for T was anxi. 
 ous to M-e the world s waltz-king, whose magic tones set the 
 heeld of half Christendom in motion. After the band finished 
 tuning their instruments, a middle-sized, handsome man 
 stepped forward with long strides, with a violin in one hand 
 and bow in the other, and began waving the latter up and 
 down, like a magician summoning his spirits. As if he had 
 waved the bound out of his bow, the tones leaped forth from 
 the instruments, and guided by his eye and hand, fell into a 
 merry measure. The accuracy witli which every instrument 
 performed its part, was truly marvellous. He could not have 
 struck the measure or the harmony more certainly from the 
 k-ys ot % Iiis own piano, than from that large band. Some 
 times tin- air rai so exijui>itely light and bounding, that the 
 feet could scarcely keep on the earth ; then it sank into a 
 mournful lament, with .1 Bobbing tremulousness, and died 
 away in a lon--brrathrd sigh. Strauss seemed to feel the 
 music in every limb. He. would wave his fiddle-bow awhile, 
 then commence playing with desperate energy, moving his 
 whole body to the measure, until the sweat rolled from his 
 brow. A book was lying on the stand before him, but he 
 made no use of it. He often glanced around with a half- 
 triumphant smile at the restless crowd, whose feet could 
 ^carcely bo restrained from bounding to tho magic measure, 
 It was the horn of Oberon realized. 
 
 The company, which consisted of several hundred, ap 
 peared to be full of enjoyment. They sat under the trees 
 in the calm, cool twilight, with the stars twinkling above, 
 and talked and lanjrhcd together during the. pauses of the 
 music, or strolled up and down the lighted alleys, W 
 
240 VIEWS A-POOT. 
 
 walked up and down with thoni, and thought "how much w* 
 should enjoy such a scene at home, whore the faces around 
 us would be those of friends, and the language our mother 
 tongue ! 
 
 Wo went a long way through the suburbs one brigh 
 afternoon to a little cemetery about a mile from the city, to 
 6nd the grave of Beethoven. On ringing at the gate, a girl 
 admitted us into the grounds, in which are many monu 
 ments of noble families who have vaults there. I passed up 
 the narrow walk, reading the inscriptions, till I came to the 
 tomb of Franz Clement, a young composer, who died two or 
 three years ago. On turning again, my eye fell instantly 
 on the word " BtiETHOVEN," in golden letters, on a tomb 
 stone of gray marble. A simple gilded lyre decorated the 
 pedestal, above which was a serpent encircling a butterfly 
 the emblem of resurrection to eternal life. Here, then, 
 mouldered the remains of that restless spirit, who seemed to 
 have strayed to earth from another clime, from such a 
 height did he draw his glorious conceptions. The perfection 
 he sought for here in vain, he has now attained in a world 
 where the soul is freed from the bars which bind it in this. 
 There were no flowers planted around the tomb by those 
 who revered his genius ; only one wreath, withered and 
 dead, lay among the grass, as if left long ago by some 
 solitary pilgrim, and a few wild buttercups hung with their 
 bright blossoms over the slab. I could not resist the 
 temptation to pluck one or two, while the old grave-diggei 
 was busy preparing a new tenement. I thought that othei 
 buds would open in a few days, but those I took would bo 
 treasured many a year as sacred relics. A few paces off ij 
 
GALLERIES OF AKT. 241 
 
 tTm grnvo of Schubert, the composer, whose beautiful songs 
 are heard all mvr (iermany. 
 
 It would employ one constantly for a week to visit all tin 
 rich collections of art in Vienna. They are All open to the 
 public on certain days, and we Ime been kept in perpetual 
 motion running from one part of the city to another, in 
 order to arrive at some, gallery at the appointed time 
 Tickets, which must often be procured in quite different 
 parts of the city, are necessary for admittance to many ; 
 and on applying after much trouble and search, we fre 
 quently f -und that \\e came at the wrong hour, and must 
 leave without effecting our object. We employed no guide, 
 but preferred finding e\ ery tiling oiir-el\ es. We made a list 
 .-very morning f the collections open during the day. and 
 employed the res- of the time in visiting the churches and 
 public gardens, or rambling through the suburbs. 
 
 We visited the Imperial Library a day or two ago. Tho 
 hall is 245 feet long, with a magnificent dome in the centre, 
 under which stands the statue of Charles V., of Carrara 
 marble, surrounded by twelve other monarchs of the house 
 of Hapsburg. The walls are of variegated marble, richly 
 ornamei a I with g dd, and the ceiling and dome are covered 
 with brilliant fresco paintings. The library numbers 300,000 
 volumes, and 16,000 manuscripts, which are kept in walnut 
 cases, gilded and adorned with medallions. The rich and 
 harmonious efiect of the whole cannot easily be imagined. 
 U is exceedingly appropriate that a hall of such splendor 
 should be used to hold a library. The pomp of a palace 
 may seem hollow and vain, for it is but the dwelling of a 
 man ; but no building can be too magnificent for the bun 
 
 U 
 
242 
 
 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 dreds of great and immortal spirits, who have visited eartfc 
 during thirty centuries, to inhabit. 
 
 We also visited the Cabinet of Natural History, which 11 
 open twice a week "to all respectably drcwed persons/ 
 the notice at the door says. But Heaven forbid that I should 
 attempt to describe what we saw there. The Mineral Cabi- 
 net had a greater interest me, inasmuch as it called up 
 the recollections of many a schoolboy ramble over the hills 
 and into all kinds of quarries, far and near. It is said to be 
 the most perfect collection in existence. I was pleased to 
 find many old acquaintances there, from the mines of Penn 
 sylvania Massachusetts and New York were also very well 
 represented. I had no idea before, that the mineral wealth 
 of Austria was so great. Besides the iron a. lead mines 
 among the hills of Styria and the quicksilver of Idria, there 
 is no small amount of gold and silver, and the Carpathian 
 mountains are rich in jasper, opal and lapiz lazuli. The 
 largest opal ever found, was in this collection. It weighs 
 thirty-four ounces, and looks like a condensed rainbow. 
 
 In passing the palace, we saw several persons entering the 
 basement story under the Library, and had the curiosity to 
 follow them. By so doing, we saw the splendid equipages 
 Df the house of Austria. There must have been near a 
 hundred carriages and sleds, of every shape, and stylo, from 
 *he heavy, square vehicle of the last century, to the mosi, 
 light and elegant conveyance of the pivM-nt day. One 
 clumsy but magnificent machine, of crimson and gold, was 
 pointed out as being a hundred and fifty years old. The 
 misery we witnessed in starving Bohemia, formed a striking 
 contrast to all this splendor. 
 
1 KP !Tfl M.I.KRY. 248 
 
 Betide! tlic Imperial I icture ( iallerv, there .-in 1 severaj 
 belonging to princes and noblemen in Vienna, which arf 
 scarcely less valuable. The most important of these is thai 
 of Prince Liechten>tein. which \vr visited yesterday. We 
 applied at the porter s lodge for admittance to the gallery : 
 but lie refused .pen it for t\\o persons. As we did not 
 \si>h a long - tor nothing, we determined to wait foi 
 other vi-itors. Presently a gentleman and lady came 
 and iiKjiiired if the gallery was open. We told them 
 it would probably be opened now, although the porter 
 required a larger number. The gentleman went to seek 
 him, and pre^.-mly returned, saying: " He will come imme 
 diately ; 1 thought best to put the number a little higher, 
 and so I told him there were six of us ! " Having little 
 artistic knowledge of paintings, I judge of them according to 
 the effect they produce upon me in proportion as th v 
 gratitV the natural instinctive 1<. \eoftlie IJeautilul. I have 
 been thereiose disappointed in some painters whose names 
 are widely known, and surprised again to find works of 
 great beauty by others of Mnaller tame. .Fudging bv such 
 a standard, I should say that "Cupid sleeping in tin- lap of 
 Venus," bv Currrggio, is the glorv of this collection. The 
 beautiful limbs of the hov-god droop in the repose of slum 
 ber, as " head rests on bi> mother s knee, and there is a 
 smile lingering around his half-parted lips, as if he was 
 dreaming ne^s r triumphs. The face is not that of the wicked, 
 mischief-loving child, but rather a sweot cherub, bringing a 
 blessing to all he Aisit-. The figure of the goddess is ex 
 quisite. Her countenance, unearthly in its loveliness, 
 expresses the tenderness of a young mother, as she sit 
 
244 VIEWS A-KOOT. 
 
 with one finger pressed on her rosy lip, watching 1m 
 slumber. 
 
 One of the most interesting objects in Vienna, is the 
 Imperial Armory. We were admitted by means of tickets 
 previously procured from the Armory Direction. Around 
 the wall on the inside, is suspended the enormous chain 
 which the Turks stretched across the Danube at Buda, in 
 the year 1529, to obstruct the navigation. It has ci-ht thou 
 sand links, and is nearly a mile in length The court is filled 
 with cannon of all shapes and sizes, many of which were 
 conquered from other nations. I saw a great many which 
 were cast during the French Revolution, with the words 
 "Libertei Egalite /" upon them, and a number of others 
 bearing the simple letter "N." 
 
 Finally, a company which had precedence. <>f us, finished 
 their sight-seeing, and the forty or fifty persons who had 
 collected during the interval were admitted, The Armory 
 is a hollow square, and must be at least a quarter of a mile 
 in length. "We were taken into a circular hall, made 
 entirely of weapons, to represent the four quarters of the 
 globe. Here the crusty old guide who admitted us, rapped 
 with his stick on the shield of an old knight who stood near, 
 to keep silence, and then addressed us: "When I speak 
 every one must be silent. No one can write or draw any 
 thing. No one shall touch anything, or go to look at any 
 thing else, before I have done speaking. Otherwise, they 
 shall be taken immediately into the street again ! " Thus 
 in every hall he rapped and scolded, driving the women to 
 one side with his stick and the men to the other, until we 
 had nearly completed the tour of the halls, when the thought 
 
THE CRU8TT CUSTOtE. 24A 
 
 3f the coming 1 fro made him a little more polite. He had a 
 regular set of descriptions by heart, which he delivered witl: 
 a great flourish, pointing particularly to the common military 
 caps of the late Emperors of Prussia and Austria, as "treasures 
 beyond all price to the nation ! " Whereupon, the crowd 
 of common people gazed reverently on the shabby beavers, 
 and I verily believe, would have devoutly kissed them, had 
 the glass covering been removed. I happened to be next to 
 a tall, dignified young man, who looked on all this with a 
 displeasure amounting to contempt. Seeing I was a for 
 eigner, he spoke, in a low tone, bitterly of the Austrian 
 government. You are not then an Austrian ? " I asked 
 No, thank God ! " was the reply ; " but I have seen 
 enough of Austrian tyranny. I am a Pole ! " 
 
 Some of the halls represent a fortification, with walls, 
 ditches, and embankments, made of muskets and swords 
 A long room in the second wing contains an encampment^ 
 in which twelve or fifteen large tents are formed in like 
 manner. Along the sides are grouped old Austrian ban 
 ners, standards taken from the French, and horse-tails and 
 flags captured from the Turks. " They make a great boast/ 1 
 said the Pole. " of a half dozen French colors, but let them 
 go to the Hopital des Invalides, in Paris, and they will 
 find hundreds of the best banners of Austria ! " They also 
 exhibited the armor of a dwarf king of Bohemia and Hun 
 gary, who died, a gray-headed old man, in his twentieth 
 year: the sword of Marlborough ; the coat of Gustavug 
 Adolphus, pierced in the breast and back with the bullet 
 which killed him at Liitzen ; the armor of the old Bohemian 
 princess Libussa and that of the ainazon Wla^ka, with 
 
46 VIKWB A-FOOT. 
 
 steel vizoi made to fit the features oi her lace. The last 
 wing was the most remarkable. Here we saw the helm and 
 breastplate of Attila, king of the Huns, which once gleamed 
 at the head of his myriads of wild hordes, before the walls 
 of Rome; the armor of Count Stahrcmherg who com 
 manded Vienna during the Turkish siege in 1-V>1. and the 
 holy banner of Mahomet, taken at that time irom the Grand 
 Vizier, together with the steel harness of John Sobieski, of 
 Poland, who rescued Vienna from the Turkish troops under 
 Kara Mustapha ; the hat, sword, and breastplate of Godfrey 
 of Bouillon, the Crusader-king of Jerusalem with the ban 
 ners of the cross the Crusaders had borne to Palestine, and 
 the standard they captured from the Turks on the walls of 
 the Holy City ! I felt all my boyish enthusiasm for the 
 romantic age of the Crusaders revive, as 1 looked on the 
 torn and mouldering banners which had once waved on the 
 hills of Judea, or perhaps followed the, sword of the Lion 
 Heart through the fight on the field of Ascalon ! What 
 tales could they not tell, those old standards, cut and 
 shivered by spear and lance ! What brave hands have 
 carried them through the storm of battle, what dying eyes 
 have looked upwards to the cross on their folds, as the 
 las* prayer was breathed for the rescue of the Holy Se 
 pulchre ! 
 
 I must now close the catalogue. This morning we shall 
 ook upon Vienna for the last time. Our knapsacks are 
 repacked, and the passports (precious documents!) vised for 
 Munich. The getting of this vise, however, caused a comi 
 cal scene at the Police Office, yesterday We entered the 
 Inspector s Hall and took our stand quietly among the 
 
SCENE AT THi: POUCI OFFICE. 24* 
 
 crowd of persons who were gathered around a railing which 
 separated them from the main office. One of the clerks 
 came up, scowling at us, and asked in a rough tone, What 
 do you want here / " We handed him our tickets of sojourt 
 (for when a traveller spends more than twenty-four hours in 
 a German city, he must take out a permission and pay for 
 it), with the request that he would give us our passports. 
 He glanced over the tickets, came back, and with constrained 
 politeness, asked us to step within the railing. Here wo 
 were introduced to the Chief Inspector. "Desire Herr 
 
 to come here," said he to a servant ; then turning to 
 
 as, " I am happy to see the gentlemen in Vienna." An 
 officer immediately came up, who addressed us in fluent 
 English. Y..U may speak in your native tongue, said 
 the Inspector : "excuse our neglect; from the facility with 
 which you speak German, we supposed you were natives o<" 
 Austria ! " Our passports were signed at once and given UK 
 with a gracious bow, accompanied by the hope that we 
 would visit Vienna again before long. All this, of course- 
 was perfectly unintelligible to the wondering crowd outside 
 the railing. Seeing, however, the honors we were receiving 
 they fell back, and respectfully made room for us to pass 
 out. I kept a grave face until we readied the bottom of 
 the stairs, when I gave way to restrained laughter in a 
 manner that shocked the dignity of the guard, who looked 
 savagely at me over his forest of moustache. I would 
 nevertheless have felt grateful for the attention we received 
 as Americans, were it not for our uncourteous reception a* 
 suspected Austrians. 
 
 We have just hrcn enjoying a hearty laugh agan, 
 
248 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 though from a very different cause, and one which, accord 
 ing to common custom, ought rather to draw forth tears 01 
 
 at least sighs and groans. This morning B suggested 
 
 an examination of our funds, for we had neglected keeping 
 a strict account, and what with being cheated in Bohemia 
 and tempted by the amusements of Vienna, there was an 
 apparent dwindling away. So we emptied our pockets, 
 counted up the contents, and found we had just ten florins, 
 or four dollars apiece. The thought of our situation, away 
 in the heart of Austria, five hundred miles from our Frank- 
 fort home, seems irresistibly laughable By allowing twenty 
 days for the journey, we shall have half a florin (twenty 
 cents) a day for our travelling expenses. This is a homoeopa 
 thic allowance, indeed, but there is nothing to be done, ex 
 cept to make the attempt. So now adieu, Vienna ! In tw< 
 hours we shall be among the hills again. 
 
C II A P T K U XXIV. 
 
 U P T II K 1) A N U H K . 
 
 A Strong Wind The l ;il:i<-e <>f Sdi.nl. runn Tin- Abbey of Melk The Lu*nry 01 
 Knot-Travel AiinTi-:iii Seeiie: y Kenc.ntre with I .nhoinian Gipsies Danubi<rt 
 Landscapes The Styiian Alps Holy Klorian Votive Mirine.- Linz and itsTowei> 
 More Money Wanted Lambach A Mountain Portrait Falls of the. Traun Bat 
 tie-Field of the Unknown Student, 
 
 WE passed out of Vienna in the face of one of the strongest 
 winds it was ever my lot to encounter. It swept across the 
 plain with such force that we found it almost impossible to 
 advance until we got under the fee of a range of hills. 
 About two miles from the barrier we passed Schonbrunn, 
 the Austrian Versailles. It was built by the Empress Maria 
 Theresa, and was the residence of Napoleon in 1809, when 
 Vienna wa> in the hands of the French. Later, in 1832, 
 he Duke of Reichstadt died in the same room which his 
 father once occupied. Behind the palace is a magnificent 
 garden, at the foot of a hill covered with rich forests and 
 crowned with an open pillared hall, three hundred feet long 
 called the Gloriette. The colossal eagle which surmounts it 
 tan be seen a great distance. 
 11* 
 
250 VIKWS A -FOOT. 
 
 The lovely valley in which Schnnbrunn lies, follows the 
 course of the little river Vienna into the heart of that moun 
 tain region lying between the Styrian Alps and the Danube, 
 and called the Vienna Forest. Into this our road led between 
 hills covered with wood, with here and there a lovely green 
 meadow, where herds of cattle were grazing. On the third 
 day we came to the Danube again at Melk, a little city built 
 under the edge of a steep hill, on the summit of which 
 stands the palace-like abbey of the Benedictine Monks. 
 The old friars must have had a merry life of it, for the wine- 
 cellar of the abbey furnished the French army 50,000 
 measures for several days in succession. The shores of the 
 Danube here are extremely beautiful. Although not so 
 picturesque as the Rhine, the scenery of the Danube is on a 
 grander scale. On the south side the mountains bend down 
 to it with a majestic sweep, and there must be delightful 
 glances into the valleys that lie between, in passing down its 
 current. 
 
 But we soon left the river, and journeyed on through the 
 enchanting inland vales. To give an idea of the glorious 
 enjoyment of travelling through such scenes, let me copy a 
 leaf out of my journal, written as we rested at noon on the 
 top of a lofty hill: " Here, while the delightful mountain 
 breeze that comes fresh from the Alps cools my forehead, 
 and the pines around are sighing their eternal anthem, I 
 seize a few moments to describe the paradise around me. I 
 have felt an elevation of mind and spirit, an unmixed 
 rapture, from morning till night, since we left Vienna. It 
 is the brightest and balmiest June weather ; a fresh breeze 
 sings through the trees and waves the ripening grain on the 
 
THK I.CXUKV OF FOOT-TKAVEU 251 
 
 verdant meadows and hill-slopes The air is filled with 
 bird-music. The larks sing above us out of sight, the bull 
 finch wakes his notes in the grove, and at eve the nightin 
 gale pours forth her passionate strain. The meadows are 
 literally mvi-red with flowers beautiful purple salvias 
 junks such as we have at home in our gardens, and glowing 
 buttercup*, eoh.r the hanks of every stream. I never saw 
 richer or more luxuriant foliage. Magnificent forests clothe 
 the hills, and the villages are embosomed in fruit trees, 
 shrubbery and flowers Sometimes we go for miles through 
 some enchanting valley, lying like a paradise between the 
 mountains, while the distant, white Alps look on it from 
 afar; sometimes over Dwelling ranges of hills, where we cao 
 see to the right the valley of the Danube, threaded by his 
 silver current and dotted with white cottages and glittering 
 spires, and farther beyond, the blue mountains of the Bohe 
 mian Forest. To the left, the range of the Styrian Alps 
 stretches along the sky, summit above summit, the farther 
 ones robed in perpetual snow. I never tire gazing on these 
 glorious hills. They fill the soul with a sense of sublimity, 
 such as one feels when listening to triumphal music They 
 seem like the marble domes of a mighty range of temples, 
 where Earth worships her Maker with an organ-anthem of 
 storms ! 
 
 " There is an exquisite luxury in travelling here. We 
 walk all day through such scenes, resting often in the shade 
 of the fruit trees which line the road, or on a mossy bank 
 by the side of some cool forest. Sometimes for enjoyment 
 as well as variety, we make our dining-place by a clear 
 spring instead of within a smoky tavern ; and our simple 
 
252 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 meals have a relish an epicure could never attain,, Away 
 with your railroads and steamboats and mail-coaches, or kccji 
 them for those who have no eye but for the sordid interests 
 of life! With my knapsack and pilgrim-staff, I ask not 
 their aid. If a mind and soul full of rapture with beauty, 
 a frame in glowing and vigorous health, and slumbers un 
 broken even by dreams, are blessings any one would attain, 
 let him shoulder his knapsack and walk through Lower 
 Austria !" 
 
 I have never been so strongly and constantly reminded 
 of America, as during this journey. Perhaps the balmy 
 season, the same in which I last looked upon the dear 
 scenes of home, may have its effect ; but there is also a rich 
 ness in the forests and waving fields of grain, a wild luxu 
 riance in every landscape, which I have seen nowhere else 
 in Europe. The large farm houses, buried in orchards, 
 scattered over the valleys, add to the effect. Everything 
 seems to speak of happiness and prosperity. 
 
 We were met one morning by a band of wandering Bo 
 hemian gipsies the first of the kind I ever saw. A young 
 woman with a small child in her arms came directly up to 
 me, and looking full in my face with her wild black eyes, 
 said, without any preface : " Yes, he too has met with sor 
 row and trouble already, and will still have more. But he 
 is not false he is true and sincere, and will also meet with 
 good luck !* She said she could tell me three numbers 
 with which I should buy a lottery ticket and win a great 
 prize. I told her I would have nothing to do with the lot 
 tery, and would buy no ticket, but she persisted, saying .* 
 
 Has he a twenty kreutzer piece ? will he give it ? 
 
DANUBIAN LANDSCAPES. 
 
 It in his hand and make a cross over it, and [ will reveal the 
 numbers!" On my refusal, she became angry, and left me, 
 saving: "Let him take care on the third day something 
 will happen to him !" An old, wrinkled hag made the same 
 proposition to my companion with no better success. They 
 reminded me strikingly of our Indians, their comph-xion is 
 a dark brown, and their eyes and hair are black as night. 
 These belonged to a small tribe who wander through the 
 forces of I lolii-mia, and support themselves by cheating and 
 stealing. 
 
 We stopped on the fourth night at Enns, a small city on 
 the river of the same name, which divides Upper from 
 Lower Austria. After leaving the beautiful little village 
 win-re we pa-^ed the previous ui-ht, the road a-cnided one 
 of those long ranges of hills, which stretch off from the 
 Danube towards the Alps \\Y walked for miles over the 
 lro;ul and uneven summit, enjoying the enchanting view 
 which opened on both sides. If we looked to the right, 
 we could trace the windings of the Danube for twenty miles, 
 Ins current studded with grcrn, wooded islands ; white cities 
 nestled at the foot of the hills, which, covered to the summits 
 with grain-fields and vineyards, extended back one behind 
 another, till the farthest were lost in the distance. I was 
 glad we had taken the way from Vienna to Linz by land, 
 for from the heights we had a view of the whole course of 
 the Danube, enjoying besides the beauty of the inland vales 
 and the far-off Styrian Alps From the hills we crossed 
 we could see the snowy range as far as the Alps of Salzburg 
 ^some of them seemed robed to the very base in their white 
 mantles. In the morning the glaciers on their summit glit- 
 
264 VIKWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tered like btars ; it was tlie first time I saw the sun reflected 
 at a hundred miles distan 
 
 On descending the r d-e we came into a garden-like plain, 
 over which rose the town-* ot Knns, built hy the ransom 
 money paid to Austria for the deliverance of the lion-hearted 
 Richard. The comiti legends say that St. Flurian was 
 thrown into the river hy the Romans in the third century. 
 with n millstone around his neck, which, however, held him 
 abavo the water like cork, until he had finished preaching 
 them a sermon. In the villages we often saw his image 
 painted on the houses, in the act of pouring a pail of water 
 on a burning building, with the inscription beneath ( >h, 
 holy Florian, pray for us!" This was supposed to be a 
 charm against fire. In I ppcr Austria, it is customary to erect 
 a shrine on the road, wherever an accident lias happened, 
 with a descriptive painting, and an admonition to all travel 
 lers to pray for the soul of the unfortunate person. On one 
 of them, for instance, was a cart with a wild ox, which a man 
 \/as holding by the horns ; a woman kneeling by the wheels 
 appeared to be drawing a little girl by the feet from under 
 it, and the inscription stated : " By calling on Jesus, Mary 
 and Joseph, the girl was happily rescued." Many of the- 
 shrines had images which the people no doubt, in their igno 
 ranee and simplicity, considered holy, but to us they were 
 impious and almost blasphemous. 
 
 From Enns a morning s walk brought us to Linz. The 
 peasant girls in their broad straw hats were weeding the 
 young wheat, looking as cheerful and contented as the larks 
 that sang above them. A mile or two from Linz we passed 
 one or two of the round towers belonging to the new fortiti- 
 
! IN / AM) US TOWERS. 255 
 
 cations of tin- t/ Ai \\alls have grown out of fashion, 
 Duke Maximilian substituted an invention of his own. The 
 city is surniiinded liy thin \-two towers, one to three miles 
 distant from it, and so placed that they form a complete line 
 of communication and defence. They are sunk in the earth, 
 surrounded with a ditch and embankments, and each is capa 
 ble of containing ten cannon a- id three hundred men. The 
 pointed roofs of tlu M towers aro seen on all the hills around. 
 \\V were obliged to give up our pa-Np,,rN at the barrier, the 
 officer telling us to call for them in three hours at the Cit} 
 Police Otlice ; we spent the inten cning time very agreeably in 
 rambling through the gay, cheerful-looking town. With its 
 gilded spires and ornamented houses, with their green lattice- 
 blinds, it is strongly suggestive of Italy. Although we had 
 not exceeded our daily allowance by more than a few kreut- 
 zers, we found that twenty days would be hardly sufficient 
 to accomplish the journey, and our funds would therefore 
 need to be replenished before we could reach Frankfort. 
 Accordingly I wrote from Linz to a friend at Frankfort, di 
 recting a small sum to be forwarded to Munich, which city we 
 hoped to reach in eight days. 
 
 We took the horse cars at Linz for Lambach, seventeen 
 miles on the way towards Gnmnden. The mountains were 
 covered with clouds as we approached them, and the storms 
 they had been brewing for two or three days began to march 
 down on the plain. They had nearly reached us, when we 
 crossed the Traun and arrived at Lambach, a small city built 
 upon a hill. Wr left the next day at noon, after the storm had 
 ceased, and on ascending the hill after crossing the Traun, 
 had an opportunity of seeing the portrait on th Traunsteiiii 
 
256 
 
 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of which the old landlord at Lain bach told us. I recognized 
 it at the first glance, and certainly it is a most remarkable 
 freak of nature. The rough back of the mountain forms the 
 exact profile of the human countenance, as if regularly hewn 
 out of the rock. What is still more singular, it is said to be 
 a correct portrait of the unfortunate Louis XVI. The land 
 lord said it was immediately recognized by all Frenchmen. 
 The road followed the course of the Traun, whose green waters 
 roared at the bottom of the glen below us. we walked foi 
 several miles in a fine forest, through whose openings we 
 caught glimpses of the mountains we longed to reach. 
 
 The river roared at last somewhat louder, and on looking 
 down the bank, I saw rocks and rapids, and a few h. : 
 built on the edge of the stream. Thinking we must be near 
 
 the celebrated fall, we went down the path, and lo ! on u 
 
 ing a little wooden bridge, the whole affair burst in sight ! 
 Judge of our surprise at finding a cascade of fifteen feet, 
 after we had been led to expect a tremendous leap of forty 
 or fifty, with all the accompaniment of rocks and precipir >. 
 Of course the whole descent of the river at the place was 
 much greater, and there were some romantic rapids over the 
 rocks which blocked its course. 
 
 The Traunstein grew higher as we approached, pn->ei t- 
 ing the same profile until we had nearly reached Gmunden. 
 From the green upland meadows above the town, the view 
 of the mountain range was glorious, and I could easily con 
 ceive the effect of the Unknown Student s appeal tc> the 
 people to fight for those free hills. I think it is Howitt who 
 relates the incident one of the most romantic in German 
 history. Count Pappenheim led his forces here in the 
 
BATTI.F.-FIKF.n OK 1HK INKNOWN STUDENT. 2.57 
 
 year I l^i, t> suppress a revolution of the people of the 
 whole Salzburg region, who had risen against an invasion of 
 their rights by the Austrian government. The battle which 
 took place on these meadows was about being decided in 
 favor of the oppressors, when a young man, clad as a stu 
 dent, suddenly appeared and addressed the people, pointing 
 to the Alps above them and the sweet lake below, and ask 
 ing if that land should not be free. The effect was electri 
 cal ; they returned to the charge and drove back the troops 
 of Pappenheim, who were about taking to flight, when the 
 unknown leader fell, mortally wounded. This struck a sud 
 den panic through his followers, and the Austrians, turning 
 again, gained a complete victory. But the name of the 
 brave student is unknown, his deed unsung ly his countrjV 
 bards, and almost forgotten. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE AUSTRIAN ALPS. 
 
 The Lake of Gmunden Among the Alps The Lumber Business The Baths of IsoW 
 St. Wolfgang Climbing the Schafberp Lost The Track of an Avalanche 
 Walking over a Forest Panorama from the Summit Descent to St. Gilgen AD 
 Alpine Eden The Shoemaker and his \Vit\- Fnnt-teps of Angels "The Valley 
 of Salzburg The Alps The Boy of the Mountain Sights in Salzburg Entering 
 Bavaria People and Scenery Wasserburir Field of Hoheiilinden Arrival at 
 Munich An Enthusiastic Acquaintance. 
 
 IT was nearly dark when we came to the end of the plain, 
 and looked on the city at our feet and the lovely lake that 
 lost itself in the mountains before us. We were early on 
 board the steamboat next morning, with a cloudless sky 
 above us and a snow-crested Alp beckoning on from the 
 end of the lake. The water was of the loveliest green hue, 
 the morning light colored the peaks around with purple, and 
 a misty veil rolled up the rocks of the Traunstein. We 
 stood on the prow and enjoyed to the fullest extent the 
 enchanting scenery. The white houses of Gmunden sank 
 down to the water s edge like a flock of ducks ; half-way 
 we passed castle Ort, on a rock in the lake, whose summit 
 is covered with trees. 
 
AMONti TIIK All-. 
 
 As wo nearod tlio other extremity, the mountains became 
 per ami loftier; there was no path along their wild 
 sides, nor even a timer s hut nestled at their feet, and tin 
 snow filh-d the ravine* more than half-way t roin the summiL. 
 An hour and a quarter brought us to Ebensee, at the head of 
 the lake, \\here we landed and plodded on towards Isc hi, fol 
 lowing the Trann up a narrow \alley, who>e mountain-walls 
 shut out more than half the sky. They are covered with 
 forests, and the country is inhabited entirely by the wood 
 men who fell the mountain pines and float the timber rafts 
 down to the Danube. The steeps are marked with white 
 lines, \\heiv the trees have been rolled, or rather tumbled from 
 the summit. Often they descend several miles over rocks and 
 precipices, where the least deviation from the track would 
 da-h them in a thousand pieces. This transportation is 
 generally accomplished in the winter when the sides are 
 covered with snow and ice. It must be a dangerous busi 
 ness, for there are many crosses by the way-side, where the 
 pictures represent persons accidentally killed by the trees; 
 an additional painting shows them burning in the flames of 
 purgatory, and the pious traveller is requested to pray an 
 Ave or a Paternoster foi the repose of their souls. 
 
 On we went, up the valley of the Traun, between moun 
 tains five and six thousand feet high, through scenes con 
 stantly changing and constantly grand, for three or four 
 hours. Finally the hills opened, disclosing a little triangu 
 lar valley, whose base was formed by a mighty mountain 
 covered with clouds. Through the two side-angles came 
 the Traun and his tributary the Ischl, while the little town 
 of Ischl lay in the centre Within & few years this has 
 
260 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 become a very fashionable bathing-place, and the influx of 
 rich visitors, which in the summer sometimes amounts to twQ 
 thousand, has entirely destroyed the primitive simplicity 
 which the inhabitants originally possessed. From Isi-hl we 
 took a road through the forests to St. Wolfgang, on the lako 
 cf the same name. The last part of the way led along the 
 banks of the lake, disclosing some delicious views. These 
 Alpine lakes surpass any scenery I have yet seen. The 
 water is of the most beautiful green, like, a sheet of molten 
 beryl, and the cloud-piercing mountains that encompass 
 them shut out the sun for nearly half the day. St. Wolf- 
 g ing is a lovely village, in a cool and quiet nook at the foot 
 of the Schaf berg. The houses are built in the picturesque 
 Swiss style, with flat, projecting roofs> and ornamented bal 
 conies, and the people are the very picture of neatness and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 We started next morning to ascend the Schafbeig, whitL 
 is called the Righi of the Austrian Switzerland. It is some 
 what higher than its Swiss namesake, and commands a 
 prospect scarcely less extensive and grand. We followed 
 a footpath through the thick forest by the side of a roaring 
 torrent. The morning mist still covered the lake, but the 
 white summits of the Salzburg and Xoric Alps opposite 
 us, rose above it, and stood pure and bright in the upper 
 air. We passed a little mill and one or two cottages, and 
 then wound round one of the lesser heights into a deep ravine, 
 down in whose dark shadow we sometimes heard the axe 
 and saw of the mountain woodmen. Finally the path dis 
 appeared altogether under a mass of logs and rocks, which 
 to have been whirled together by a sudden flood. 
 
CI.IMKINU THE 8CHAKBKKO. 26* 
 
 Wo drlibrrateil what to do; the summit rose several 
 thousand feet above us, almost precipitously steep, but we 
 did not like to turn buck, and there was still a hope of 
 meeting with the path again. Clambering over the ruins 
 and rubbish, we pulled ourselves by the limbs of tre38 up a 
 steep ascent and descended again to tho stream. We hero 
 saw tin- ravine was closed by a wall of rock, and our only 
 rhance was to cross to tho west side of the mountain, where 
 the ascent seemed somewhat easier. A couple of mountain 
 maidens whom we fortunately met, carrying home grass for 
 thrlr goat", told us the mountain could be ascended on that 
 side, by one who could climb well laying a strong emphasis 
 on the word. Tho very doubt implied in this expression 
 was enough to diM-idt us; so we bp.jran the work. And 
 work it was, too ! The side was very steep, the trees all 
 leaned downwards, and we slipped at every step on the dry 
 leaves and grass. After making a short distance this way 
 with the greatest labor, we came to the track of an ava 
 lanche, which had swept away the trees and earth. Hero 
 the rock had been worn rough by torrents, but by using 
 both hands and feet, we climbed the precipitous side of the 
 mountain, sometimes dragging ourselves up by the branches 
 of trees where the rocks were smooth. After half an hour 
 of such work we came above the forests, on the bare side of 
 the mountain. The summit was far above us, and so steep 
 that our limbs involuntarily shrank from the task of climbing. 
 The side sloped at an angle of nearly sixty degrees, and tho 
 least slip threw us flat on our faces. \\Y had to use both 
 hand arid foot, and were obliged to rest every few minutes 
 to recover breath. Crimson-flowered moss and bright blua 
 
202 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 gentians covered the rocks, and I filled rny books with 
 blossoms for friends at home. 
 
 Up and up, for what seemed an age, we clambered. So 
 steep was it, that the least rocky projection hid my friend 
 from sight, as he was climbing below me. 1 sometimes 
 started stones, which went down, down, like cannon-balls 
 till I could see them no more. At length we reached the 
 region of dwarf pines, which was even more difficult to pass 
 through. Although the mountain was not so steep, this 
 forest, centuries old, reached no higher than our breasts, 
 and the trees leaned downwards, so that we were obliged to 
 take hold of the tops of those above us, and drag ourselves 
 over the others. Here and there lay large patches ot snow ; 
 we sat down in the glowing June sun, and bathed our hands 
 and faces in it. Finally, the sky became bluer and broadei, 
 the clouds seemed nearer, and a few more steps through the* 
 bushes brought us to the summit of the mountain, on the 
 edge of a precipice a thousand feet deep, whose bottom stood 
 in a vast field of snow ! 
 
 We lay down on the heather, exhausted by five hours 
 incessant toil, and drank in, like a refreshing draught, the 
 sublimity of the scene. The green lakes of the Salzburg 
 Alps lay far below us, and the whole southern horizon was 
 filled with the mighty range of the Styrian and Noric Alps, 
 their summits of never-melting snow mingling and blending 
 with the clouds On the other side the mountains of Salz 
 burg lifted their ridgy backs from the plains of Bavaria, and 
 the Chiem lake lay spread out in the blue distance. A line 
 of mist far to the north betrayed the path of the Danube, 
 and beyond it we could barely trace the outline of the Bo 
 
DC* ! M TO SI. (ilUJKN. 1 liT 
 
 hemian mountains. With a glass the spires of Munich, one 
 hundred and twenty miles distant, can be seen. It was a 
 view whose grandeur I can never forget. In that dome 
 of the cloud we seemed to breathe a purer air than that of 
 earth. 
 
 After an hour or two, we began to think of descending, 
 as the path was yet to be found. The summit, which was a 
 inik or more in length, extended farther westward, and by 
 climliing vcr the dwarf pines for some time, we saw a little 
 wooden house above us. It stood near the highest part of 
 the peak, and two or three men were engaged in repairing 
 it, as a shelter fur travellers. They pointed out the path 
 which went down on the side toward St. Gilgen, and we 
 began descending. Tin- mountain on this side is much less 
 steep, but the descent is fatiguing enough. The path led 
 along the side of a glen where mountain goats were grazing, 
 and further down we saw cattle feeding on the little spots of 
 heritage which lay in the forest. My kuees became so weak 
 from this continued descent, that they would scarcely sup 
 port me ; but we, were three hours, partly walking and 
 partly running down, before we reached the bottom. Half 
 an hour s walk around the head of the St. Wolfgang See, 
 brought us to the little village of St. Gilgen. 
 
 The valley of St. Gilgen lies like a little paradise between 
 the mountains. Lovely green fields and woods slope gradu 
 ally from the mountain behind, to the still greener lake 
 spread out before it, in whose bosom the white Alps are 
 mirrored. Its picturesque cottages cluster around the neat 
 church with its lofty spire, and the simple inhabitants have 
 countenances as bright and cheerful as the blue sky above 
 
264 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 them. We breathed an air of poetry. The Arcadian sim 
 plicity of the people, the pastoral beauty of the fields around 
 and the grandeur of the mountains which shut it out from 
 the world, realized my ideas of a dwelling-place, where t 
 with a few kindred spirits, the bliss of Eden might almost 
 be restored. 
 
 We stopped there two or three hours to relieve our hunger 
 and fatigue. My boots had suffered severely in our moun 
 tain adventure, and I called at a shoemaker s cottage to get 
 them repaired. 1 sat down and talked for half an hour 
 with the. family. The man and his wife spoke of the delight 
 ful scenery around them, and expressed themselves with 
 correctness and even elegance. They were much pleased 
 that L admired their village so greatly, and related every 
 thing which they supposed could interest me. As I rose to 
 go, my head nearly touched the ceiling, which was very 
 low. The man exclaimed : " Ach Gott ! how tall !" I told 
 him the people were all tall in our country ; he then asked 
 where I came from, and I had no sooner said "America," 
 than he threw up his hands and uttered an ejaculation of the 
 greatest surprise. His wife observed that " it was wonder 
 ful how far man was permitted to travel." They wished 
 me a prosperous journey and a safe return home. 
 
 St. Gilgen was also interesting to me from that beautiful 
 chapter in " Hyperion" " Footsteps of Angels," and on 
 passing the church on my way back to the inn, I entered 
 the grave-yard mentioned in it. The green turf grows thick- 
 ly over the rows of mounds, with here and there a rose 
 planted by the hand of affection, and the white crosses were 
 hung with wreaths, some of which had been freshly added 
 
265 
 
 Behind the church, under the shade of a tree, stood a small 
 chapel: I opened the unfastened door, and entered. The 
 afternoon sun ^hone through the side window, and all was 
 still around. A little .shrine, adorned with flowers, stood at 
 the other end, and there, were two tablets on the wall, to 
 persons who slumbered beneath. I approached these and 
 read on one of them with feelings not easily described : " Look 
 not mournfully into the past it conies not again ; wisely 
 improve the present it is thine ; and go forward to meet the 
 shadowy future, without fear, and with a manly heart!" 
 This then \\a> the spot where Paul Flemming came in lone 
 liness and sorrow to muse over what he had lost, and these 
 were the w.>rds whose truth and eloquence strengthened and 
 consoled him, "as if the unknown tenant of the grave had 
 opened his lips of duM and spoken the words of consola 
 tion his sonl needed." 
 
 AVe reached a little village on the Fuschel See, the same 
 evening, and set ulf the next morning for Salzburg. The 
 day was hot and we walked slowly, so that it was not until 
 two o clock that we saw the castellated rocks on the side of 
 the (lai^berg, guarding the entrance to the valley of Salz 
 burg. A short distance further, the whole glorious pano 
 rama was spread out below us. From the height on which 
 we stood, we looked directly on the summit of the Capuchin 
 Mountain, which hid part of the city from sight ; the double 
 peak of the Staufen rose opposite, and a heavy storm was 
 raging along the Alpine heights around it, while the lovely 
 valley lay in sunshine below, threaded by the bright current 
 of the Salza. As we descended and passed around the foot 
 of the hill, the Untersberg came in sinht, whoso broad sum- 
 
 12 
 
JOG \IK\\S A-FOOT. 
 
 mits lift themselves Beven thousand feet above the piain. 
 The legend says that Charlemagne and his warriors sit in 
 its subterraneous caverns in complete armor, and that they 
 will arise and come forth again, when Germany recovers 
 her former power and glory. 
 
 I wish I could convey in words some idea of the elevation 
 of spirit experienced while looking on these eternal moun 
 tains. They fill the soul with a sensation of power and 
 grandeur which frees it awhile from the cramps and fetters 
 of common life. It rises and expands to the level of their 
 sublimity, until its thoughts soar solemnly aloft, like their 
 summits, piercing the heart of heaven. Their dazzling and 
 imperishable beauty is to the mind an image of its own 
 enduring existence. When 1 stand upon some snowy summit 
 the invisible apex of that mighty pyramid there seems a 
 majesty in my weak will which might defy the elements. 
 This sense of power, inspired by a silent sympathy with the 
 forms of Nature, is beautifully described as shown in the 
 free, unconscious instincts of childhood by the poet U bland, 
 in his ballad of the " Mountain Boy." 
 
 A herd-boy on the mountain s brow, 
 I see the castles all below. 
 The sunbeam here is earliest cast 
 And by my side it lingers last 
 I am the boy of the mountain I 
 
 The mother-house of streams is here 
 I drink them in their cradles clear; 
 From out the rock they foam below, 
 I spring to catch them as they go ! 
 I am the boy of the mountain J 
 
TIIK M M MAIN HUY. 26 
 
 To me helots the nfoiintain ft bound, 
 "When- gnthfring li inpest-* iium-h around; 
 But though from north and south they shout. 
 Above them still my song rings out 
 " I am the boy of the mountain 
 
 Belovr me clouds and thunders move; 
 1 stand amid the blue above, 
 I shout to them with fearless breast ; 
 * Ck> leave my father s house in rest P* 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 And when the loud bell shakes the spires 
 And flame aloft the signal-fires, 
 I go below and join the throng, 
 And -swing my sword and sing my song: 
 " I am the boy of the mountain !" 
 
 Sal/burg lies on both sides of the Salza, hemmei in on 
 either bend by precipitous mountains A large fortress 
 overlook^ it on the south, from the summit of a perpemlicu- 
 iar roc 1 ; auaii -t which the houses in that part of the city 
 an- built. The streets are narrow and crooked, but the 
 iM>\vei part contains many open squares adorned with hand 
 some fountains. The variety of costume among the people 
 is very interesting. The inhabitants of the salt district have 
 a peculiar dress -, the women wear round fur caps, with 
 little wings of gauze at the side. I saw other women with 
 head -dresses of gold or silver filigree, something in shape 
 like a Roman helmet, with a projection at the back of the 
 head, a foot long. The most interesting objects in Salzburg 
 t< us, were the house of Mozart, in which the composer was 
 x>in, and ths monument lately erected to him The St 
 
2*)C YIK\\- .\ -FOOT. 
 
 Pe*er s f hurcli, near by, contains the tomb of Haydn, the 
 great composer, and the Cliurci: <>! >:. > ! aMian th t the 
 renowned Paracelsus, \\lio \\a also a native of Salzburg. 
 
 Two or three hours sufficed to see every thing of intent. 
 in the city. We had intended to go further through tin 
 A.ips, to the beautiful vales of the Tyrol, but our time Mrai 
 getting short ; our boots, which are the pedestrian s sole do 
 pcndence, began to show symptoms "f wearing out ; and our 
 expenses among the lakes and mountain* of I pper Austria. 
 left OB but two florins apiece, so we reluctantly turned our 
 backs upon the snowy hills and >et out for Munich, ninetv 
 miles distant. After passing the night at Saalbnirk. on th 
 banks of the stream which separates the two kingdoms, we 
 entered Bavaria next morning. I could not help feeling 
 glad to leave Austria, although within her bounds I had 
 passed scenes whose beauty will long haunt me. and me; 
 with many honest, friendly hearts among her people. \Ve 
 noticed a change as soon as we had crossed the border. 
 The roads were neater and handsomer, and the country 
 people greeted us in passing, with a friendly cheerfulness that 
 made us feel half at home. The houses are built in the 
 pictuiesquc Swiss fashion, then l<alc< nies oft.-: 1 ornamented 
 with curious figures, carved in wood. Many of them, where 
 they are situated remote from a church, have a little bell on 
 the roof which they ring for morning and evening prayers, 
 md we often heard these simple monitors sounding from the 
 cottages as we passed by. 
 
 The next night we stopped at the little village of Stein, 
 famous in former times for its robber knight, Hans von Stein. 
 The ruins of his castle stand on the rock above, and the 
 
mi i IKI.I >F HMIIKM IMIEK. 
 
 hewn in the sides of the precipice, where he nscd 
 to continr his prisoners, are still visible. Walking on through 
 a pleasant, well-cultivated country, we came to Wasserburg 
 on the Inn. The situation of the city is peculiar. Tin- Inn 
 has gradually worn his channel deeper in the sandy soil, so 
 that he now flows at the bottom of a glen, a hundred feet 
 In-low the plains around. Wa^rrlmr;: li -*> in a IMMII formed 
 liv the change of the current, which Hows around it like a 
 horse-shoo, leaving only a narrow neck of land which con 
 nects it with the country above. 
 
 We left the little village where wo were quartered for 
 the night and took a foot-path which led across the country 
 to the field of Hiihriilinden, about six miles distant. Tin- 
 name had hec-n familiar to me from childhood, and my love 
 for Campbell, with the recollection of the school-exhibitions 
 when- < hi I/mden when the sun was low" had been so 
 often declaimed, induced me to make the excursion to it. 
 We traversed a large forest, belonging to the King of Bava 
 ria, and came out on a plain covered with grain-fields and 
 bounded on the right by a semicircle of low hills. Over 
 the fields, about two miles distant, a tall minaret-like spire 
 rose from a small cluster of houses, and this was Hohenlin- 
 den ! To tell the truth, I had been expecting something 
 more. The " hills of blood-stained snow " are very small 
 hills indeed, and the " Isar rolling rapidly, M is several mile*. 
 off; it was the spot, however, and we recited Ctamphell s 
 poem, of course, and brought away a few wild flowers as 
 memorials. There i< no monument or any other token of 
 the battle, and the people seem t > have already forgotten the 
 icene of Moreau s victory and their defeat. 
 
270 VIKWs A- FOOT. 
 
 From a hill twelve miles off \\ e had <>ni first \iew of tho 
 spires of Munich, like distant ships over the sea-like plain 
 They kept in sight until we arrived at eight o clock in the 
 evening, after a walk of more than thirty miles. We cross 
 ed the rapid Is;;r on three bridges, entered the magnificent 
 Isar Gate, and were soon comfortably quartered in the heart 
 of Munich. Entering the city without knowing a single 
 soul within it, we made within a few minutes an agreeable 
 acquaintance. After we passed the Isar (late. we began 
 looking for a decent inn, for tho day s walk bad 1 
 fatiguing. Presently a young man, who bad been watching 
 us for some time, came up, and said that it we would allo.v 
 him, he would conduct us to a good lodging-place. Finding 
 we were Strangers, he expressed the greatest regret that he 
 had not time to go with us every day around the city. < hir 
 surprise and delight at the splendor of Munich, he said, 
 would more than repay him for the trouble. In his anxiety 
 to show us something, he took us some distance out of the 
 -way, (although it was growing dark and we were very 
 tired,) to see the Palace and the Theatre, with its front of 
 rich frescoes. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MUNICH. 
 
 The Splendor of Munich King Lndwlg s Labors The Ludwigfltrasse The Library 
 
 - Tin- < luin-h <>f >t I...ui M.-niiinriit to Kn_-.-u- B.-.-mli.arnoj* Th<- Parks <>n (he 
 Isar The New l:.-Ml.-m-.-- Munificence of its Halls Hall of the Throne The 
 Klnir * A|i:irtinM.t The l:-}al Chap.-! A IM.-turp of I^votimi The <;iyptotln-k 
 Its Sculptures Tb< Son of Mini,, The I inacnthek A Giant The BaflMca- 
 Schwauthaler 8 Studio History of an Artisan Condition of our Finances. 
 
 Ml M. li. .Inn, 1 1. 1S45. 
 
 I THOi uffT I liad srcn every tiling in Vienna tliat could 
 i xcitc admiration or r ratify fancy ; lint here 1 have my 
 fi inner sensations to live over again, in an augmented degree. 
 It is well I was at first somewhat prepared hy onr previous 
 travel, ttlier\\ise the trlare and splendor of wealth and art 
 in this < in-mail Athens might Wind me to the beauties of the 
 cities we shall yet vi>it. I have been walking in a dream 
 where the fairy tales of boyhood were realized, and tho 
 golden and jewelled halls of the Eastern genii rose glittering 
 around me a vision of the brain no more. All I had con 
 ceived ot oriental magnificence, all descriptions of the splen 
 dor of kingly halls and palaces, fall short of what I here 
 
2*72 VIEWS A- FOOT. 
 
 see. Where shall I begin to describe the crowd of splendid 
 edifices that line its streets, or how give an idea of the pro 
 fusion of paintings and statues of marble, jasper and gold ? 
 
 Art has done every thing for Munich. It lies on a large, 
 flat plain, sixteen hundred feet above the sea, and continually 
 exposed to the cold winds from the Alps. At the beginning 
 of the present century it was but a third-rate city, and was 
 rarely visited by foreigners. Since that time its population 
 and limits have been doubled, and magnificent edifices 
 in every style of architecture erected, rendering it scarcely 
 secondary in this respect to any capital in Europe. Kvn-y 
 art that wealth or taste could devise, seems to have been spent 
 in its decoration. Broad, spacious streets and squares have 
 been laid out, churches, halls and n.llrp - erected, and 
 schools of painting and sculpture established, which draw 
 artists from all parts of the world. All this is the result of 
 the taste of the present king, Ludwig I., who began twenty 
 or thirty years ago, when he was Crown Prince, to collect 
 the best German artists annuid him and form plans for the 
 execution of his grand design. He can boast of having 
 done more for the arts than any other living monarch, and 
 if he had accomplished it all without oppressing his people, 
 he would deserve an immortality of fame. 
 
 Let us take a stroll down the Ludwigstrasse. As we pass 
 the Theatiner Church, with its dome and towers, the broad 
 street opens before us, stretching away to the north, between 
 rows of magnificent buildings. Just at this southern end, 
 is the &:hlusslialh t an open temple of white marble, terminat 
 ing the avenue. To the right of us extend the arcades, 
 with the trees of the Royal (iarden peeping above them; 
 
< IKKCII OK 
 
 073 
 
 on the, loft }* the spacious bonceri building of the Odeon, 
 an. I tin- palacv of the Duke ,,f Leuchtcnbe: -. , u of Kugene 
 Beauharnois. I a-ing through a row of palace-like private 
 buildings, we come to the Army Department, on the right 
 a neat and tasteful building of white sandstone. Beside it 
 stands the Library, which possesses the first special claim on 
 our admiration. With its splendid front of five hundred 
 and eighteen feet, the yellowish brown cement with which 
 the body is covered, making an agreeable contrast with the 
 dark red window-arches and cornices, and the statues of 
 Homer, Hippocrates, Thucydides and Aristotle guarding the 
 portal, is it not a worthy receptacle for the treasures of 
 ancient and modern lore which its halls contain ? 
 
 Nearly opposite stands the Institute for the Blind, a plain 
 but large building of dark red brick, covered with cement, 
 and further, the Ludwig s Kirche, or Church of St. Louis. 
 How lightly the two square towers of gray marble lift their 
 network of sculpture ! Over the arched portal stand marble 
 statues by Schwanthaler, and the roof of brilliant tiles 
 worked into mosaic, resembles a rich Turkey carpet covei in- 
 the whole. We must enter, to get an idea of the splmdor of 
 this church. Instead of the pointed arch which one would 
 expect to find ahoy,- his head, the lofty pillars on each side 
 bear an unbroken semicircular vault, which is painted a 
 brilliant blue, and spanned with silver stars. These pillars, 
 and the little arches above, which spring from them, are 
 illuminated with gold and brilliant colors, and each side- 
 chapel is a casket of richness and elegance. The Ayindows 
 are of silvered irlass. throu-h which the lijrht glimmers softly 
 on the splendor within. The end of the chancel behind the 
 
274 vnwi \ i OT. 
 
 high altar, is taken up \\itli Cornelius s celebrated fr--c.i 4 
 painting of the "Last Judgment," the largest painting in 
 the world and the circular dome in the centre of tin- cross 
 contains groups of martyrs, prophets, saints, and kings, 
 painted in fresco on a ground of gold. The work of Cor 
 nelius has been greatly praised for sublimity of design and 
 beauty of execution, by many acknowledged judges , 1 mm 
 disappointed in it, but the fault possibly lay in me, and not 
 in the painting. The richue*> and elegance of the church 
 were so new to me, that I can scarcely decide whether 1 am 
 impressed by its novelty or charmed by its beauty. 
 
 As we leave the church and walk further, the street expands 
 suddenly into a broad square. One side is formed by the new 
 Cniversity building, and the other by the Royal Seminary. 
 both displaying in their architecture new forms of the ;rr 
 ful Byzantine school, which the architects of Munich have 
 adapted in a striking manner to so many varied purposes. 
 On each side stands a splendid colossal fountain of bron/.e, 
 throwing up a great mass of water, which fall> in a triple 
 cataract to the marble basin below. A short distance 
 beyond this square the Ludwigstrasse terminates. The end 
 will be closed by a magnificent gate, in a style to correspond 
 with the unequalled avenue to which it will give entrance. 
 
 We went one morning to see the collection of paintings 
 formerly belonging to Eugene Beauharnois. \\ ho 
 brother-in-law to the present king of Bavaria, in the palace 
 of his son, the Duke of Leuchtenberg. We have >ince seen 
 in the St. Michael s Church, the monument to Kn^ene, from 
 the chisel of Thorwaldsen. The noble figure of the son of 
 Josephine is represented in the Roman mantle, with his 
 
THK P4RKS ON THE I8AR. 275 
 
 .helmet and sword Ivin^ m the ground beside him. On one 
 side sits Ili-t-.rv, writing on a tablet; on the other, stand 
 the two brother-angels, Death and Immortality. They lean 
 lovingly together, with arms around each other, hut the 
 iweet countenance of Death has a cast of sorrow, as he 
 stands with inverted torch and a wreath of poppies among 
 his clustering locks. Immortality, crowned with never- 
 fading Howern, looks pwards with a smile of triumph, and 
 holds in one hand his blazing torch. It is a beautiful idea, 
 and I horwaldBen has inacle the marble eloquent with feeling. 
 
 The inside of the square formed by the Arcades and the 
 New Residence, is filled with noble old trees, which in sum 
 mer make a leafy roof over the pleasant walks. Passing 
 through the northern Arcade, me comes into the magnificent 
 park, railed tin- Knglish Garden, which extends more than 
 four miles along the bank of the Isar, several branches of 
 whose milky current wander through it, and form one or two 
 iscades. It is a beautiful alternation of forest and 
 low, and has all the richness and garden-like luxuriance 
 i .nirlish scenery. Winding walks lead along the Isar, or 
 through the wood of venerable oaks, and sometimes a lawn 
 of half a mile in length, with a picturesque temple at its 
 tart her end, comes in sight through the trees. I was 
 better pleased with this park than with the Prater in Vienna. 
 Its paths are always filled with persons enjoying the, change 
 from the du-tv streets to its <juiet and cool retirement. 
 
 The N L < -idence is not only one of the wonders of 
 
 M i-iich, but of the world. Although commenced in 1 *!(} and 
 
 d on < "iKtantl v >ince that time by a number of architects, 
 
 sculptors, and painters, it is not yet finished; and if Art 
 
27G VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 were not inexhaustible, it w,uld IK- ditlicult to imagii " 
 more could be added. Tin - north >id ot the Max 
 IM-itx is taken up by its front of tour hundred and thirty 
 feet, which was nine years in building, under the. direct! m 
 of the architect Klenze. Tin- exterior i- copied after tlio 
 Palazzo Pitti. in Florence. r l he northern front, which fat - 
 on the Royal (iarden, is now nearly finished. It has th 
 enormous length of eight hundred feet ; in the middle, is a 
 portico of ten Ionic columns, hut instead of supporting a 
 triangular faeade, each pillar stands -eparate. and btV-irs a 
 marble statue from the chisel of Sch\\ anthaler. 
 
 The interior of the building dor-* not disappoint the pro 
 mise of the outside. It is open every afternoon in the absence 
 of the king, for the inspection of visitors; fortunately for us, 
 his majesty is at present on a journey through his provii 
 on the Rhine. We went early to the waiting hall, where 
 >c\ eral travellers were alreaily assembled, and at four o clock, 
 were admitted into the newer part of the palace, containing 
 the throne hall, ball-room, etc. On entering the first hall, 
 designed for the lackeys and royal servants, \\ e were, all 
 ibliged to thrust our feet into cloth slippers to walk o\er th 
 polished mosaic floor. The second hall, aKo for servants, 
 gives tokens of increasing splendor iu the richer decorations 
 of the walls and the more elaborate mosaic of the floor. \Vn 
 next entered the receiving saloon, in which the Court Mar. 
 shal receives the guests. The ceiling is of arabesque, sculp 
 ture, profusely painted and gilded. 1 assing through a little 
 cabinet, we entered the great dancing saloon. Its floor 18 
 the richest mosaic of wood of different colors, the sides are 
 of polished scagliola, and the ceiling a dazzliug bla/o of 
 
THE THItOVK HALL. 
 
 \ one end is a gall-ry for the orchestra, 
 Hlpparted I IT six columns of variegated marble, above which 
 are six dancing nymphs, painted to represent life. 
 
 We next entered two smaller rooms containing the por 
 traits of beautiful women, principally from the German no 
 bility. I gave the preference to the daughter of Marco 
 Bozzaris, now maid of honor to the Queen of Greece. Sho 
 ha.l a wild dark eye, a beautiful proud lip, and her rich 
 black hair rolled in glossy waves down her neck, from under 
 the red Grecian "cp stuck jauntily on the side of her head 
 She wore a scarf and close-fitting vest embroidered with gold, 
 and there was a free lofty spirit in her countenance worthy 
 the name she bore. These pictures form a galln-v of beauty, 
 whose equal cannot ea.sily be found. 
 
 Finally we entered the Hall of the Throne. Here the 
 encaustic decoration, so plentifully employed in the othef 
 rooms, is dropped, and an effect even more brilliant obtained 
 by the simple use of marble and gold. Picture a long hall 
 with a floor of polished marble, on each side twelve columns 
 of white marblo with gilded capitals, between which stand 
 colossal statues of gold. At the other end is the throne of 
 gold and crimson, with gorgeous hangings of crimson velvet 
 The twelve statues in the hall are called the " Wittelsbach 
 Ancostor>," and represent renowned members of the house 
 ! WitteUhacli. from which the royal family of Havana if 
 iles ( -ended. They were cast in bron/e hv Stiglmaier, alter 
 the models of Schwanthaler, and then completely covered 
 with a coating of gold, so that they resemble *olid golden 
 statues. The value of the preeious metal on each one is 
 about &i,00t>, as they are nine feet in height 1 \VLat would 
 
278 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 llic politicians whr, make such an outcry about the papering 
 vf the President s House, say to such a palace as this? 
 
 Returning to the starting point, we crossed to the othef 
 wing of the edifice and joined the party who came to visit 
 the apartments of the king. Here we were led through two 
 ^r three rooms, appropriated to the servants, with all the 
 splendor of marble doors, floors of mosaic, and frescoed 
 ceilings. From these we entered the king s apartments 
 The entrance halls are decorated with paintings of the Ar- 
 pmauts and illustrations of the Hymns of Hesiod, after 
 drawings by Scliwantlialor. Then came the Service Hall 
 containing frescoes illustrating Homer, by Schnorr, and the 
 Throne Hall, with Schwanthaler s bas-reliefs of the songs of 
 Pindar, on a ground of gold. The throne stands under a 
 splendid crimson canopy. The Dining Room, with its floor 
 of polished wood, is filled with illustrations of the songs of 
 Anacreon. To these follow the Dressing Room, with twen 
 ty-seven illustrations of the Comedies of Aristophanes, and 
 the sleeping chamber with frescoes after the poems of Theo- 
 critus s and two beautiful bas-reliefs representing angels 
 bearing children to Heaven. It is no wonder the King 
 writes poetry, when he breathes, eats, and sleeps in an atmo 
 sphere of it 
 
 Adjoining the new residence on the east, is the Royal 
 Chapel, lately finished in the Byzantine style, under the 
 direction of Klenze. To enter it, is like stepping into a 
 casket of jewels. The sides are formed by a double range 
 of arches, the windows being so far back as to be almost out 
 of sight, so that the eye falls on nothing but coloring and 
 gold. The lower row of arches is of alternate green and 
 
THE KOYAL CHAPEL 279 
 
 purple marble, beautifully polished ; but the upper, as well 
 as the small chancel behind tin- high altar, is entirely covered 
 "tfith fresco paintings on a ground of gold. The richness and 
 splendor of the. whole church is absolutely incredible. Even 
 after one has > n tin* Ludwig s Kircho and the Residence 
 itself, it excites astonishment I was surprised, however, 
 to find at this ago a painting on tin; wall behind the altar. 
 repreM-nting thu Almighty. It Q6Eftf ;is if human presump 
 tion ha> no limit. The simple altar of Athens, with its in 
 scription " TV the [ nl-inni n (, <>,/," was more -truly reverent 
 than this. As I .-at do\\ n awhile under one of the arches, a 
 poor woman came in, carrying a heavy basket, and going 
 to thu sieps which led to the altar, knelt down and prayed, 
 .spreading her arms out in the form of a cross. Then, after 
 stooping and kissing the first step, she dragged her knees 
 upon it, and commenced praying again with outspread arms. 
 This performance she continued until she had climbed them 
 all, which occupied some time ; then, as if she had fulfilled a 
 vow, she turned and departed. She was undoubtedly sin 
 cere in her piety, but it made me sad to look upon such de 
 luded superstition. 
 
 Yesterday morning we visited the Glyptothek, the finest 
 collection of ancient sculpture, except that in the British 
 Museum, I have yet seen, and perhaps elsewhere unsurpass 
 ed, north of the Alps. The building, which was finished by 
 Klenze in 1830, has an Ionic portico of white marble, with 
 a group of allegorical figures, representing Sculpture 
 and the kindred arts. On each side, of the portico, there are 
 three niches in the front, containing on one side, Pericles. 
 Phidias and Vulcan; on the other, Hadrian, Prometheu* 
 
280 VIEWS A-FOOT 6 
 
 and Daedalus. The building forms a hollow square, and it 
 lighted entirely from the inner side. There are in all 
 twelve halls, each containing the remains of a particular era 
 in the art, and arranged according to time, so that, beginning 
 with the clumsy productions of the ancient Egyptians, one 
 passes through the different stages of Grecian art, afterwards 
 that of Rome, and finally ends with the works of our own 
 times the almost Grecian perfection of Thorwaldsen and 
 Canova. These halls are worthy to hold such treasures, and 
 what more could be said of them ? The floors are of 
 marble mosaic, the sides of green or purple scagliola, 
 and the vaulted ceilings covered with raised ornaments on a 
 ground of gold. No two are alike in color and decoration, 
 and yet there is a unity of taste and design in the whole, 
 which renders the variety delightful. 
 
 From the Egyptian Hall, we enter one containing the 
 oldest remains of Grecian sculpture. Then follow the cele 
 brated Egina marbles, from the temple of Jupiter Panhel- 
 lenius, on the island of Egina. They formerly stood in the 
 two porticoes, the one group representing the fight for the 
 body of Laomedon, the other the struggle for the dead Pa- 
 troclus. The parts wanting have been admirably restored 
 by Thorwaldsen. They form almost the only existing spe 
 cimens of the Eginetan school. Passing through the Apollo 
 Hall, we enter the large hall of Bacchus, in which the pro- 
 gress of the art is distinctly apparent. A satyr, lying asleep 
 on a goat-skin which he has thrown over a rock, is believed 
 to be the work of Praxiteles. The relaxation of the figure 
 and perfect repose of every limb, is wonderful. The coun* 
 tenance has traits of individuality which led me to think if 
 
THE SON OF NIOBE. 281 
 
 have been a portrait, perhaps of some rude country 
 Bwain. 
 
 In the Hall of Niobe, which follows, is one of the most 
 perfect works that ever grew into life under a sculptor ? 
 chisel. Mutilated as it is, without head and arms, I never 
 saw a more expressive figure. Ilioneus, the son of Niobe, 
 is represented as kneeling, apparently in the moment in 
 which Apollo draws his bow, and there is an imploring sup 
 plication in his attitude which is touching in the highest 
 degree. His beautiful young limbs shrink involuntarily 
 from the deadly shaft ; there is an expression of prayer, of 
 agony, in the position of his body. It should be left un 
 touched. No head could be added, which would equal that 
 which one pictures to himself, while gazing upon it. 
 
 The Pinacothek is a magnificent building of yellow sand 
 stone, five hundred and thirty feet long, containing thirteen 
 hundred pictures, selected with great care from the private 
 collection of the king, which amounts to nine thousand. 
 Above the cornice on the southern side, stand twenty-five 
 colossal statues of celebrated painters, by Schwanthaler. 
 As we approached, the tall bronze door was opened by a 
 servant in the Bavarian livery, whose size harmonized so 
 well with the giant proportions of the building, that, until I 
 stood beside him and could contrast him with myself, I did 
 aot notice his enormous frame. I saw then that he must bo 
 aear eight feet high, and stout in proportion. He reminded 
 me of the great " Baver of Trient," in Vienna. The Pina 
 cothek contains the most complete collection of works by 
 old German artists, anywhere to be found. There are, in 
 the hall of the Spanish masters, half a dozen of Murillo s 
 
282 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 inimitable beggar groups. It was a relief, after looking 
 upon tlie distressingly stiff figures of the old German school, 
 to view these fresh natural countenances. 
 
 One of the most remarkable buildings now in the course 
 of erection is the Basilica, or Church of St. Bonifacius. It 
 represents another form of the Byzantine style, a double 
 edifice, a little like a North River steamboat, with a two- 
 story cabin on deck. The inside is not yet finished; 
 although the artists have been at work on it for six years, 
 but we heard many accounts of its splendor, which is said to 
 exceed anything that has been yet done in Munich. We 
 visited to-day the atelier of Schwanthaler, which is always 
 open to strangers. The sculptor himself was not there, but 
 five or six of his scholars were at work in the rooms, build 
 ing up clay statues after his models, and working out bas- 
 reliefs in frames. We saw here the original models of the 
 statues on the Pinacothek, and the " Wittelsbach Ancestors,* 
 in the Throne Hall of the palace. 
 
 Our new-found friend came to visit us last evening and 
 learn our impressions of Munich. In the course of conver 
 sation we surprised him by revealing the name of our coun 
 try, for he had taken us for wandering German students. 
 His countenance brightened up, and he asked us many ques 
 tions about the state of society in America. In return, he 
 told us something more about himself his story was simple, 
 but it interested me. His father was a merchant, who, hav 
 ing been ruined by unlucky transactions, died, leaving a 
 numerous family without the means of support. His chil 
 dren were obliged to commence life alone and unaided, 
 which, in a country where labor is so cheap, is difficult and 
 
THE STORY OF AN ARTISAN. 283 
 
 disheartening. Our friend chose the profession of a machin* 
 ist, which, after encountering great obstacles, he succeeded 
 in learning, and now supports himself as a common laborer. 
 But his position in this respect, prevents him from occupying 
 that station in society for which he is intellectually fitted, 
 His own words, uttered with a simple pathos which I can 
 never forget, will best describe how painful this must be to 
 a sensitive spirit. " I tell you thus frankly my feelings," 
 said he, " because I know you will understand me. I could 
 not say this to any of my associates, for they would not 
 comprehend it, and they would say I am proud, because I 
 cannot bring my soul down to their level. I am poor and 
 have but little to subsist upon ; but the spirit has needs as 
 well as the body, and I feel it a duty anel a desire to satisfy 
 them also. When I am with any of my common fellow- 
 laborers, what do I gain from them ? Their leisure hours 
 are spent in drinking and idle amusement, and I cannot join 
 them, for I have no sympathy with such things. To mingle 
 with those above me, would be impossible. Therefore I am 
 alone I have no associate !" 
 
 I have gone into minute, and it may be tiresome detail, 
 in describing some of the edifices of Munich, because it 
 seemed the only way in which I could give an idea of their 
 wonderful beauty. It is true that in copying after the man 
 ner of the daguerreotype, there is danger of imitating its 
 exaggeration. We leave to-morrow morning, having receiv 
 ed the sum written for, twenty florins (eight dollars), which, 
 after paying the expenses of our stay here, will barely ena 
 ble us to reach Heidelberg. It is a week s journey, and wo 
 have even less than twenty kreutzers a day, to travel -upon, 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 JOURNEY THROUGH WURTEMBURG AND 
 RETURN TO FRANKFORT. 
 
 The Railroad to Augsburg Traces of Ancient Splendor Walk to Ulm Entering 
 "WTirtemburg Seeking Lodgings in the Rain The " Golden Wheel" Funds 
 Guod-bye to the Alps The Valley of the Fils The Suabian Land Arrival t 
 Stuttgard Thorwaldsen s Statue of Schiller The Bewildered Omnibus Driver- 
 Walking in the Rain Ludwigsburg Empty Pockets Beauty of the Zabergau 
 The Last Night Approaching Heidelberg Familiar Scenes The Castle An End 
 of Hardship A Student s Burial Return to Frankfort A Midnight Farewell. 
 
 WE left Munich in the morning train for Augsburg. Be 
 tween the two cities extends a vast unbroken plain, exceed 
 ingly barren and monotonous. Here and there is a little 
 scrubby woodland, and sometimes we passed over a muddy 
 stream which came down from the Alps. The land is not 
 more than half- cultivated, and the villages are small and 
 poor. We saw many of the peasants at the stations, in 
 their gay Sunday dresses, the women wearing short gowns 
 with laced boddices of gay colors, and little caps on the top 
 of their heads, with streamers of ribbons three feet long. 
 After two hours ride, we saw the tall towers of Augsburg, 
 and alighted on the outside of the wall. The deep moai 
 
AUGSBURG. . 285 
 
 which surrounds the city is overgrown with velvet turf, the 
 towers and bastions are empty and desolate, and we passed 
 unchallenged under the gloomy archway. Immediately on 
 entering the city, signs of its ancient splendor are apparent. 
 The houses are old, many of them with quaint, elaborately 
 carved ornaments, and faded fresco paintings. The latter 
 generally represent some scene from the Bible history, 
 encircled with arabesque borders, and pious maxims in 
 illuminated scrolls. We went into the old Rathhaus, whose 
 golden hall still speaks of the days of Augsburg s pride. I 
 saw in the basement a bronze eagle, weighing sixteen tons, 
 with an inscription on the pedestal stating that it was cast 
 in 1606, and formerly stood on the top of an old public 
 building, since torn down. In front of the Rathhaus is a 
 fine bronze fountain, with a number of figures of angels and 
 tritons. 
 
 The same afternoon we left Augsburg for Ulm. Long, 
 low ranges of hills, running from the Danube, stretched far 
 across the country, and between them lay many rich, green 
 valleys. We passed, occasionally, large villages, perhaps 
 as old as the times of the Crusaders, and appearing quite 
 pastoral and romantic from the outside ; but we were always 
 glad when we had gone through their filth and into the 
 clean country again. On the afternoon of the second day 
 we came in sight of the fertile plain of the Danube ; far to 
 the right lay the field of Blenheim, where Marlborough 
 and the Prince Eugene conquered the united French and 
 Bavarian forces and decided the war of the Spanish suc 
 cession. 
 
 We determined to reach ITlm the same evening although 
 
286 VIKWS A-FOOT, 
 
 a heavy storm was raging along the distant hills of Wiirtem- 
 burg. The dark mass of the mighty Cathedral rose m the 
 distance through the twilight, a mountain in comparison 
 with the little houses clustered around its base. We 
 reached New Ulm, finally, and passed over the heavy 
 wooden bridge into Wiirtemburg, unchallenged for passport 
 or baggage. The Danube is here a little muddy stream, 
 hardly as large as my native Brandywine, and a traveller 
 who sees it at Ulm for the first time would most probably be 
 disappointed. It is not until below Vienna, where it receives 
 the Drave and Save, that it becomes a river of more than 
 ordinary magnitude. 
 
 We entered Ulm, as I have already said. It was after 
 nine o clock, nearly dark, and beginning to rain ; w r e had 
 walked thirty-three miles, and being of course tired, we 
 entered the first inn we saw. But, to our consternation, it 
 was impossible to get a place the fair had just commenced 
 and the inn was full to the roof. We must needs hunt 
 another, and then another, and yet another, with like fate at 
 each. It grew quite dark, the rain increased, and we were 
 unacquainted with the city. I became desperate, and at 
 last, when we had stopped at the eighth inn in vain, 1 tola 
 the people we must have lodgings, for it was impossible we 
 should walk around in the rain all night. Some of the 
 guests interfering in our favor, the hostess finally sent a ser 
 vant with us to the first hotel in the city. I told him on the 
 way we were Americans, strangers in Ulm, and not accus 
 tomed to sleeping in the streets. " Well," said he, " I will 
 go before, and recommend you to the landlord of the Golden 
 Wheel." I knew not what magic he used, but in half an 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE F1L?. 
 
 hour our weary limbs were stretched in delightful repose, 
 and we thanked Heaven more gratefully than ever, for the 
 blessing of a good bed. The night s lodging, however, told 
 severely upon our finances and when we left the city, for 
 our walk of a hundred and twenty miles, to Heidelberg, we 
 had but sixty cents apiece in our pockets. 
 
 There is an immense fortification now in progress of erec 
 tion behind Ulm. It leans on the side of the hill which 
 rises from the Danube, and must be nearly a mile in length 
 Hundreds of laborers are at work, and from the appearance 
 of the foundations, many years will be required to finish it. 
 The lofty mountain-plain which we afterwards traversed for 
 eight or ten miles, divides the waters of the Danube from 
 the Rhine. From the heights above Ulm, we bade adieu to 
 the far, misty Alps, until we shall see them again in Swit 
 zerland. Late in the afternoon, we came to a lovely green 
 valley, sunk as it were in the earth Around us, on all 
 sides, stretched the bare, lofty plains ; but the valley lay 
 below, its deep sides covered with the richest forest. At 
 the bottom flowed the Fils. Our road led directly down the 
 side ; the glen spread out broader as we advanced, and 
 smiling villages stood beside the stream. A short distance 
 before reaching Esslingen, we came upon the banks of the 
 Neckar, whom we hailed as an old acquaintance, although 
 much smaller here in his mountain home than when hi 
 sweeps the walls of Heidelberg 
 
 Delightful Wiirtemburg ! Shall I ever forget thy lovely 
 green vales, watered by the classic current of the Neckar t 
 or thy lofty hills covered with vineyards and waving forests, 
 and crowned with heavy ruins, that tell many a tale of Bar- 
 
288 VIEWS A-FOOl. 
 
 barossa and Duke Ulric and Goetz with the Iron Hand! 
 No were even the Suabian hills less beautiful were the 
 Suabian people less faithful and kind and true, still I would 
 love the land for the great spirits it has produced ; still 
 would the birth-place of Frederick Schiller, of Uhland and 
 Hauff, be sacred. I do not wonder that Wiirtemburg can 
 boast such glorious poets. Its lovely landscapes seem to 
 have been made expressly for the cradle of Genius; amid 
 no other scenes could his childhood catch a more benign 
 inspiration. Even the common people are deeply imbued 
 with a poetic feeling. We saw it in "heir friendly greetings, 
 and open, expressive countenances ; it is shown in their love 
 for their beautiful homes, and the rapture and reverence with 
 which they speak of their country s bards. No river in the 
 world, equal to the Neckar in size, flows for its whole course 
 through more delightful scenery, or among kinder and hap 
 pier people. 
 
 After leaving Esslingen, we followed its banks for some 
 time, at the foot of an amphitheatre of hills, covered to the 
 very summit, as far as the eye could reach, with vineyards. 
 The morning was cloudy, and white mist-wreaths hung 
 along the sides. We took a road that led over the top of a 
 range, and on arriving at the summit, saw all at once the 
 city of Stuttgard, lying beneath our feet. It lay in a basin 
 encircled by mountains, with a narrow valley opening to the 
 south-east, and running off between the hills to the Neckar, 
 The situation of the city is one of wonderful beauty, and even 
 after seeing Salzburg, I could not but be charmed with it. 
 
 I inquired immediately for the monument of Schiller, fol 
 there was little else in the city I cared to see. We had be- 
 
THE STATUE OF SCHILLItt. 289 
 
 come tired of running about cities, hunting this or that old 
 church or palace, which perhaps was nothing when found, 
 Stuttgard has neither galleries, ruins, nor splendid buildings, 
 to interest the traveller ; but it has Thorwaldsen s statue of 
 Schiller, calling up at the same time its shame and its glory 
 For the poet in his youth was obliged to fly from this very 
 same city from home and friends, to escape the persecution 
 of the government on account of the free sentiments expressed 
 in his early works. We found the statue, without much dif 
 ficulty. It stands in the Schloss Platz, at the southern end of 
 the city, in an unfavorable situation, surrounded by dark old 
 buildings. It should rather be placed aloft on a mountain 
 summit, in the pure, free air of heaven, braving the storm 
 and the tempest. The figure is fourteen feet high, and stands 
 on a pedestal of bronze, with bas-reliefs on the four sides. 
 The head, crowned with a laurel wreath, is inclined as if in 
 deep thought, anfl all the earnest soul is seen in the coun 
 tenance. Thorwaldsen has copied so truly the expression 
 of poetic reverie, that I waited, half-expecting he would lift 
 his head and look around him. 
 
 As we passed out the eastern gate, the workmen were busy 
 near the city, making an embankment for the new railroad 
 to Heilbronn, and we were obliged to wade through half a 
 mile of mud. Finally the road turned to the left over a 
 mountain, and we walked on in the rain, regardless of ti.c 
 touching entreaties of an omnibus-driver, who felt a great 
 concern for our health, especially as he had two empty seats. 
 I shall never forget the man s amazement when I gravely 
 assured him that we preferred walking in the rain. " Yoi, 
 need only pay me half the fare," he urged. " If it was fur. 
 
 13 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 weather," said I, " I would ride ; but I would rather wall? 
 when it rains." " You will get .sick," he persisted. " No," I 
 answered, " I would get sick if I rode." The man must have 
 thought us insane, for he turned at last with a look of mingled 
 pity and horror, whipped his horses, and drove away from us. 
 There is a peculiarly agreeable sensation in walking in a 
 storm, when the winds sweep by and the rain-drops rattle 
 through the trees, and the dark clouds roll past just above 
 one s head. It gives a dash of sublimity to the most common 
 scene. If the rain did not finally soak through the boots, 
 and if one did not lose every romantic feeling in wet gar 
 ments, I would prefer storm to sunshine, for visiting some 
 kinds of scenery. We saw the North Coast of Ireland and the 
 Giant s Causeway in stormy weather, at the expense of being 
 completely drenched, it is true ; but our recollections of that 
 wild day s journey are as vivid as any event of our lives 
 and the name of the Giant s Causeway cafls up a series of 
 pictures as terribly sublime as any we would wish to behold. 
 
 The rain at last came down a little too hard for comfort, 
 and we were quite willing to take shelter when we reached 
 Ludwigsburg. This is here called a new city, having been 
 laid out with broad streets and spacious squares, about a 
 century ago, and is now about the size of our five-year old 
 city of Milwaukie ! It is the chief military station of Wiir- 
 ternburg, and has a splendid castle and gardens, belonging to 
 the king. A few miles to the eastward is the little village 
 where Schiller was born. It is said that the house in which 
 liis parents lived is still standing 
 
 It was not the weather alone which prevented our making 
 & pilgrimage thither, nor was it alone a peculiar fondues for 
 
THE 7ABEHGAD. 291 
 
 rain which induced us to persist in walking in the storm, 
 Our feeble pockets, if they could have raised an audible 
 jingle, would have told another tale. Our scanty allowance 
 was dwindling rapidly away, in spite of a desperate system of 
 economy. It was the evening of the third day since leaving 
 Ulm, and our sixty cents were almost exhausted. As soon 
 therefore as the rain slackened a little, we started again, 
 although the roads were very bad. At Betigheim, where we 
 passed the night, the people told us of a much nearer and 
 more beautiful road, passing through the Zabergau, a region 
 famed for its fertility and pastoral beauty. At the inn we 
 were charged higher than usual (five cents) for a bed, so that 
 we had but thirteen kreutzers to start with in the morning. Our 
 fare that day was a little bread and water ; we walked steadily 
 on, but, owing to the wet roads, made only thirty miles. 
 
 A more delightful region than the Zabergau I have seldom 
 seen. The fields were full of rich, heavy grain, and the 
 trees had a luxuriance of foliage that reminded me of the 
 vale of the Jed, in Scotland. The long hills were covered 
 with waving fields of grain, except where they were steep 
 and rocky, and the vineyard terraces rose one above another. 
 Sometimes a fine old forest grew along the summit, like a 
 mane waving back from the curved neck of a steed, and 
 white villages lay coiled in the valleys between. A line of 
 blue mountains always closed the vista, on looking down 
 one of these long valleys ; occasionally a ruined castle with 
 donjon tower, was seen on a mountain at the side, making 
 the picture complete. As we lay sometimes on the hillside 
 and looked on one of those sweet vales, we were astonished 
 at its Arcadian beauty. The meadows were as smooth as a 
 
292 VIEWS A FOOT. 
 
 mirror, and there seemed to be scarcely a grass-blade out of 
 place. The streams wound through with a subdued ripple, 
 as if they feared to displace a pebble ; and the great ash 
 trees which stood here and there, had lined each of their 
 leaves as carefully with silver and turned them as gracefully 
 to the wind, as if they were making their toilettes for the 
 gala-day of Nature. 
 
 That evening brought us into the dominions of Baden, 
 within five hours walk of Heidelberg. At the humblest 
 inn in an humble village, we found a bed which we could 
 barely pay for, leaving a kreutzer or two for breakfast. 
 Soon after starting the next morning, the distant Kaiserstuhl 
 suddenly emerged from the mist, with the high tower on its 
 summit, where, nearly ten months before, we sat and looked 
 at the summits of the Vosges in France, with all the excite 
 ment one feels on entering a foreign land. Now, the scenery 
 around that same Kaiserstuhl was nearly as familiar to us 
 as that of our own homes. Entering the hills again, we 
 knew by the blue mountains of the Odenwald, that we were 
 approaching the Neckar. At length we reached the last 
 height. The town of Neckargemund lay before us on the 
 steep hillside, and the mountains on either side were scarred 
 with quarries of the rich red sandstone, so much used in 
 building. The blocks are hewn out, high up on the moun 
 tain side, and then sent rolling and sliding down to the river, 
 where they are laden in boats and floated with the current 
 to the distant cities of the Rhine. 
 
 We were rejoiced, on turning around the corner of a 
 mountain, to see on the opposite side of the river, the road 
 winding up through the forests, where last September ouj 
 
RETURN TO HEIDELBERG. 293 
 
 Heidelberg friends accompanied us, as we set out to walk to 
 Frankfort, through the Odenwald. Many causes combined 
 to render it a glad scene to us. We were going to meet 
 our friend again, after a separation of months ; we were 
 bringing an eventful journey to its close ; and finally, we 
 were weak and worn out from fasting and the labor of walk 
 ing in the rain. A little further we saw Kloster Neuburg, 
 formerly an old convent, and remembered how we used to 
 look at it every day from the windows of our room on the 
 Neckar ; but we shouted aloud, when we saw at last the 
 well-known bridge spanning the river, and the glorious old 
 castle lifting its shattered towers from the side of the moun 
 tain above us. I always felt a strong attachment to this 
 matchless ruin, and as I beheld it again, with the warm sun 
 shine falling through each broken arch, the wild ivy draping 
 its desolate chambers, it seemed to smile on me like the face 
 of a friend, and I confessed I had seen many a grandei 
 scene, but few that would cling to the memory so familiarly. 
 While we were in Heidelberg, a student was buried by 
 torchlight. His brethren assembled at dusk in the Univer 
 sity Square, each with a blazing pine torch three feet long, 
 and formed into a double line. Between the files walked at 
 short distances an officer, who, with his sword, broad lace 
 collar, and the black and white plumes in his* cap, looked 
 like a cavalier of the olden time. The thick smoke from 
 the torches filled the air, and a lurid, red light was cast over 
 the hushed crowds in the streets and streamed into the dark 
 alleys. The Hauptstrasse was filled with two lines of flame, 
 as the procession passed down it ; but when they reached 
 the extremity of the city, the hearse went on, attended witb 
 
294 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 torch-bearers, to the Cemetery, some distance further, and 
 the students turned back, running and whirling their torches 
 in mingled confusion. The music struck up a merry march, 
 and in the smoke and glare, they resembled a company of 
 mad demons. The presence of death awed them to silence 
 for awhile, but as soon as it had left them, they turned re 
 lieved to revel again, and thought no more of the lesson. 
 They assembled again in the square, and tossing their torches 
 up into the air, cast them blazing into a pile ; while the 
 flame and black smoke rose in a column into the air, they 
 sang in solemn chorus, the song " Gaudeamus igitur" with 
 which they close all public assemblies. 
 
 I shall neglect telling how we left Heidelberg, and 
 walked along the Bergstrasse again, for the sixth time ; how 
 we passed the old Melibochus and through the quiet city of 
 Darmstadt ; how we watched the blue summits of the Tau- 
 nus rising higher and higher over the plain, as a new land 
 rises from the sea; and finally, how we reached at last the 
 old watch-tower and looked down on the valley of the 
 Main, clothed in the bloom and verdure of summer, with 
 the houses and spires of Frankfort in the middle of the well 
 known panorama. We again took possession of our old 
 rooms, and having to wait for a remittance from America, 
 we sat down to a month s rest and study. Towards the end 
 
 of July, Mr. Willis and the family of Herr S returned 
 
 from the baths of Kreuznach, where they had been spending 
 the warm weather, and our happy family circle was re 
 stored. I received another remittance of a hundred dollars, 
 which secured me Switzerland and Italy, and immediately 
 began to prepare for my departure. 
 
A FAREWELL AT MIDNIGHT. 295 
 
 FRANKFORT, July 29 1845 
 
 IT would be ingratitude towards the old city in which 1 
 have passed so many pleasant and profitable hours, to leave 
 it, perhaps for ever, without a few words of farewell. How 
 often will the old bridge, with its view up the Main, over the 
 houses of Oberrad to the far mountains of the Odenwald, 
 rise freshly and distinctly in memory, when I shall have 
 been long absent from them ! How often will I hear in 
 fancy, as I now hear in reality, the heavy tread of pas 
 sers-by on the rough pavement below, and the deep bell 
 of the Cathedral, chiming the swift hours, with a hollow 
 tone that seems to warn me, rightly to employ them ! 
 Even this old room, with its bare walls, little table and 
 chairs, in which I have thought and studied so long, that it 
 seems difficult to think and study anywhere else, will crowd 
 out of memory images of many a loftier scene. May I but 
 preserve for the future the hope and trust which have 
 cheered and sustained me here, through the sorrow of 
 absence and the anxiety of uncertain toil ! It is growing 
 towards midnight, and I think of many a night when I sat 
 here at this hour, thinking of the pleasant past, and the 
 doubtful future, and my beloved home across the sea. All 
 this has now an end. I must begin a new wandering, and 
 perhaps in ten days more I shall have a better place for 
 thought, among the valleys of the everlasting Alps. - 1 look 
 forward to the journey with romantic, enthusiastic anticipa 
 tion. for afar in the golden distance stand the Coliseum and 
 St. Peter s, Vesuvius and the lovely Naples. Farewell, 
 friends who have so long given me a home in a strange 
 land! 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FREIBURG AND THE BLACK FOREST. 
 
 On the way to Italy Meeting with a Neighbor A Talk with the Farmers Journey 
 to Freiburg The Minster Market Day The New Railroad The Institute for 
 the Blind The Grand Duchess Stephanie The Kingdom of Heaven The Valley 
 of Hell Natives of the Black Forest Climbing the Feldberg -Scenery of the Black 
 Forest The Alps again We enter Switzerland Schaffhausen The Falls of the 
 Ehine. 
 
 OF our walk to Heidelberg over the oft-trodden Bergstrasse, 
 I shall say nothing, nor how we spent two last delightful 
 days with our friends, lingered about the Castle, climbed 
 the Kaiserstuhl again, and danced around on the top of the 
 tower for an hour, amid cloud and mist, while there was 
 sunshine below in the valley of the Neckar. I left Heidel 
 berg on the 8th of August, in the ttehw igen, for Carlsruhe. 
 The engine whistled, the train started, and although I kept 
 my eyes steadily fixed on the spire of the Hauptkirche, 
 three minutes hid it and all the rest of the city from sight. 
 Carlsruhe, the capital of Baden, which we reached in an 
 hour and a half, is unanimously pronounced by travellers to 
 be a most dull and tiresome city. Even its name, in Ger 
 man, signifies a place of repose. 
 
A TALK WITH THE FARMERS. 297 
 
 I stopped at Kork, on the branch road leading to Stras 
 bourg, to meet a German-American about to return to my 
 home in Pennsylvania, where he had lived for some time. I 
 inquired according to the direction he had sent me to Frank 
 fort, but he was not there ; however, an old man, finding 
 who I was, said that Herr Otto had directed him to go with 
 me to Hesselhurst, a village four or five miles off, where he 
 would meet me. So we set off immediately over the plain, 
 and reached the village at dusk. 
 
 Several of the farmers of the neighborhood were at the 
 little inn, and seemed to consider it as something extraordi 
 nary to see a real, live, native-born American. They over 
 whelmed me with questions about our country, and its 
 government. The hostess brought me a supper of fried eggs 
 and wur .t, while they gathered around the table and began 
 a long category in the dialect of the country, which is diffi 
 cult to understand. I gave them the best information I 
 could, about our mode of farming, the different kinds of 
 produce raised, and the prices paid to laborers ; and one 
 honest old man cried out, on my saying I had worked on a 
 farm, "Ah! little brother, give me your hand !" which he 
 shook most heartily. I told them also something about our 
 government, and the militia system, so different from the 
 conscription of Europe, when a farmer, becoming quite warm 
 in our favor, said to the others with an air of the greatest 
 decision : " One American is better than twenty Germans !" 
 What particularly amused me, was, that although I spoke 
 German with them, they seemed to think that I did not 
 understand what they said to one another, and therefore 
 commented very freely on my appearance. I suppose they 
 
 13* 
 
298 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 had the idea that we were a rude, savage race, for I over 
 heard one say : " One sees, nevertheless, that he has been 
 educated!" Their honest, unsophisticated character was 
 very interesting to me, and we talked together until a late 
 hour, 
 
 My friend arrived at three o clock the next morning, and 
 after two or three hours talk about home, and the friends 
 whom he expected to see so much sooner than I, a young 
 farmer drove me in his wagon to Offenburg, a small city at 
 the foot of the Black Forest, where I took the cars for Frei 
 burg. The scenery between the two places is grand. The 
 broad mountains of the Black Forest rear their fronts on the 
 east, and the blue lines of the French Vosges meet the 
 clouds on the west. The night before, in walking over the 
 plain, I saw distinctly the whole of the Strasburg Minster, 
 the spire of which is the highest in Europe, being four hun 
 dred and ninety feet, or but twenty-five feet lower than the 
 Pyramid of Cheops. 
 
 The Minster of Freiburg is a grand, gloomy old pile, dat 
 ing from the eleventh century one of the few Gothic 
 churches in Germany that have ever been completed. The 
 tower of beautiful fretwork, rises to the height of three 
 hundred and ninety-five feet, and the body of the church, 
 including the choir, is of the same length. The interior is 
 solemn and majestic. The day after my arrival was the 
 great market-day, and the peasantry of the Black Forest 
 came down from the mountains to dispose of their produce. 
 The square around the Minster was filled with them, and 
 the singular costume of the women gave the scene quite a 
 picturesque appearance. Many of them wore bright red 
 
THE INSTITUTE FOR THE BLIND. 209 
 
 head-dresses and shawls, others had high-crowned hats of 
 yellow oil-cloth ; the young girls wore their hair in long 
 plaits, reaching nearly to their feet. 
 
 The railroad has only been open to Freiburg within a few 
 days, and is consequently an object of great curiosity to the 
 peasants, many of whom never saw the like before. They 
 throng around the station at the departure of the train, and 
 watch with great interest the operations of getting up the 
 steam and starting. One of the scenes that grated most 
 harshly on my feelings, was seeing one day a company of 
 women employed on the unfinished part of the road. They 
 were digging and shovelling away in the rain, nearly up to 
 their knees in mud and clay ! 
 
 I called at the Institute for the Blind, under the direction 
 of Mr. M tiller. He showed me some beautiful basket and 
 woven work by his pupils, made with astonishing accuracy 
 and skill. They read with great facility from the raised 
 type, and by means of frames are taught to write with ease 
 and distinctness. In music, that great solace of the blind, 
 they most excelled. I was indebted to Mr. Miiller, to whom 
 I was introduced by an acquaintance with a friend of his in 
 America, for many kind attentions. He accompanied me to 
 the Jcigerhaus, on a mountain near, where we had a very fine 
 view of the city and its great black Minster, with the plain 
 of the Briesgau, broken only by the Kaiserstuhl, a long 
 mountain near the Rhine, whose golden stream glittered in 
 the distance. On climbing the Schlossberg, an eminence 
 near the city, we met the Grand Duchess Stephanie, who is 
 now generally believed to be the mother of Caspar Hauser. 
 Through a work lately published, which has since been sup* 
 
300 VFEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 pressed, the whole history has come to light. Caspar Han- 
 ser was the lineal descendant of the house of Baden, and 
 heir to the throne. The guilt of his imprisonment and mur 
 der rests, therefore, upon the present reigning family. 
 
 After two days delightfully spent, we shouldered our 
 knapsacks and left Freiburg. The beautiful valley, at the 
 mouth of which the city lies, runs like an avenue for seven 
 miles directly into the mountains, and presents in its loveli 
 ness such a contrast to the horrid defile which follows, that 
 it almost deserves the name which has been given to a little 
 inn at its head the " Kingdom of Heaven." The moun 
 tains of the Black Forest inclose it on each side like walls, 
 covered to the summit with luxuriant woods, and in some 
 places with those forests of gloomy pine which give this re 
 gion its name. After traversing its whole length, just before 
 plunging into the mountain-depths, the traveller rarely meets 
 with a finer picture than that which, on looking back, he 
 sees framed between the hills at the other end. Freiburg- 
 looks around the foot of one of the heights, with the spire 
 of her cathedral peeping above the top, while the French 
 Vosges grow dim in the far perspective. 
 
 The road now enters a wild, narrow valley, which grows 
 smaller as we proceed. From Himmelreich, a large rude 
 inn by the side of the green meadows, we enter the Hollen- 
 thal that is, from the " Kingdom of Heaven " to the " Val 
 ley of Hell !" The latter place better deserves its appella 
 tion than the former. The road winds between precipices 
 of black rock, above which the thick foliage shuts out the 
 brightness of day, and gives a sombre hue to the scene. A 
 torrent foams down the chasm, arid in one place two mighty 
 
CLIMBING THE FELDBERG. 301 
 
 pillars interpose to prevent all passage. The stream, how 
 ever, has worn its way through, and the road is hewn in the 
 rock by its side. This cleft is the only entrance to a valley 
 three or four miles long, which lies in the very heart of the 
 mountains. It is inhabited by a few woodmen and their 
 families, and but for the road which passes through, would 
 be as perfect a solitude as the Happy Valley of Rasselas. 
 At the farther end, a winding road called " The Ascent," 
 leads up the steep mountain to an elevated region of country, 
 thinly settled and covered with herds of cattle. The cher 
 ries, which in the Rhine-plain below had long gone, were 
 just ripe here. The people spoke a most barbarous dialect, 
 but they were social and friendly, for everybody greeted us, 
 and sometimes, as we sat on a bank by the roadside, 
 those who passed would say " Rest thee !" or " Thrice 
 rest!" 
 
 Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which 
 was spread out among the hills like a sheet of ink, so black 
 was its hue, we commenced ascending a mountain. The 
 highest peak of the Schwarzwald, the Feldberg, rose not 
 far off, and on arriving at the top of this mountain, we saw 
 that a half hour s walk would bring us to its summit. This 
 was too great a temptation for my love of climbing heights ; 
 so, with a look at the descending sun to calculate how much 
 time we could spare, we set out. There was no path, but 
 we pressed directly up the steep side, through bushes and 
 long grass, and in a short time reached the top, breathless 
 from such exertion in the thin atmosphere. The pine woods 
 shut out the view to the north and east, which is said to be 
 magnificent, as the mountain is about five thousand feet high. 
 
302 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The wild, black peaks of the Black Forest were spread be 
 low us, and the sun sank through golden mist towards the 
 Alsatian hills. Afar to the south, through cloud and storm, 
 we could just trace the white outline of the Swiss Alps. 
 The wind swept through the pines around, and bent the 
 long yellow grass among which we sat, with a strange, 
 mournful sound, well suiting the gloomy and mysterious 
 region. It soon grew cold, the golden clouds settled down 
 towards us, and we made haste to descend to the village of 
 Lenzkirch before dark. 
 
 Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see 
 the trial of archery which was to take place among the 
 mountain youths. Their booths and targets, gay with ban 
 ners, stood on a green meadow beside the town. We walked 
 through the Black Forest the whole forenoon. It might be 
 owing to the many wild stories the scenes whereof are laid 
 among these hills, but to me there was a peculiar feeling of 
 solemnity pervading the whole region. The great pine 
 woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and down 
 their hoary, moss-floored aisles, daylight seems never to 
 have shone. The air was pure and clear, and the sunshine 
 bright, but it imparted no gaiety to the scenery : except the 
 little meadows of living emerald which lay occasionally in 
 the lap of a dell, the landscape wore a solemn and serious 
 air. In a storm, it must be sublime. 
 
 About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we 
 had a glorious view. The line of the distant Alps could be 
 faintly traced high in the clouds, and all the heights between 
 were plainly visible, from the Lake of Constance to the 
 misty Jura, which flanked the Vosges on the we&t. From 
 
ENTERING SWITZERLAND. 303 
 
 our lofty station we overlooked half Switzerland, and had 
 the air been a little clearer, we could have seen Mont Blanc 
 and the mountains of Savoy. I could not help envying 
 the feelings of the Swiss, who, after long absence from their 
 native land, first see the Alps from this road. If to the 
 emotions with which I then looked on them were added the 
 passionate love of home and country which a long absence 
 creates, such excess of rapture would be almost too great to 
 be borne. 
 
 In the afternoon we crossed the border, and took leave of 
 Germany with regret, after near a year s residence within 
 its borders. Still it was pleasant to know that we were in 
 a republic once more, and the first step we took made us 
 aware of the change. There was no policeman to call for our 
 passports or search our baggage. It was just dark when 
 we reached the hill overlooking the Rhine, on whose 
 steep banks is perched the antique town of Schaffhausen. 
 It is still walled in, with towers at regular intervals ; the 
 streets are wide and spacious, and the houses rendered ex 
 tremely picturesque by the quaint projecting windows. The 
 buildings are nearly all old, as we learned by the dates 
 above the doors. At the inn, I met with one of the free 
 troopers who marched against Luzerne. He was full of 
 spirit, and ready to undertake another such journey. Indeed 
 it is the universal opinion that the present condition of things 
 cannot last much longer. 
 
 We took a walk before breakfast to the falls of the Rhine, 
 about a mile and a half from Schaffhausen. I confess I WAS 
 somewhat disappointed in them, after the glowing descrip 
 tions of travellers. The river at this place is little more 
 
304 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 than thirty yards wide, and the body of water, although 
 issuing from the Lake of Constance, is not remarkably strong. 
 For some distance above, the fall of the water is very rapid, 
 and as it finally reaches the spot where, narrowed between 
 rocks, it makes the grand plunge, it has acquired a great 
 velocity. Three rocks stand in the middle of the current, 
 which thunders against and around their bases, but cannot 
 shake them down. These and the rocks in the bed of the 
 stream, break the force of the falT, so that it descends to the 
 bottom, about fifty feet below, not in one sheet, but shivered 
 into a hundred leaps of snowy foam. The precipitous 
 shores, and the tasteful little castle which is perched upon 
 the steep just over the boiling spray, add much to its beauty, 
 taken as a picture. As a specimen of the picturesque, the 
 whole scene is perfect. I should think Trenton Falls, in 
 New York, must excel these in wild, startling effect; but 
 there is such a scarcity of waterfalls in this land, that the 
 Germans go into raptures about them, and will hardly be 
 lieve that Niagara itself possesses more sublimity. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A WALK THROUGH EASTERN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Canton Zurich The Country and People The City of Zurich Its Promenades- 
 Friendly Greetings Walk along the Lake Shore The Alp-Glow The Grave of 
 Ulrich von Hutten Freiligrath, the Banished Poet The Alps in the Rain Ein- 
 siedeln The Cathedral and Pilgrims Music Alpine Scenery The Slide of the 
 Rossberg Schwytz The Lake of the Four Cantons The Meadow of Griitli Tell s 
 Chapel Altorf Night in the Valley of the Reuss. 
 
 WE left Schaffhausen for Zurich, in mist and rain, and 
 walked for some time along the northern bank of the Rhine. 
 We could have enjoyed the scenery much better, had it not 
 been for the rain, which not only hid the mountains from 
 sight, but kept us constantly half soaked. We crossed 
 the rapid Rhine at Eglisau, a curious antique village, and 
 then continued our way through the forests of Canton Zu 
 rich, to Biilach, with its groves of lindens " those tall and 
 stately trees, with velvet down upon their shining leaves, 
 and rustic benches placed beneath their overhanging eaves." 
 When we left the little village where the rain obliged us to 
 stop for the night, it was clear and delightful. The far 
 mers were out, busy at work, their long, straight scythe* 
 
306 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 glancing through the wet grass, while the thick pines 
 sparkled with thousands of dewy diamonds. The farm 
 houses were scattered over the country in real American 
 style, and the glorious valley of the Limmat, bordered on 
 the west by a range of woody hills, reminded me of some 
 scenes in my native Pennsylvania. The houses were neat 
 ly and tastefully built, with little gardens around them, and 
 the countenances of the people spoke of intelligence and 
 independence. I fancied I could read on the brows of the 
 Swiss a lofty self-respect, a consciousness of the liberties 
 they enjoy, which the Germans of the laboring class never 
 show. 
 
 As we approached Zurich, the noise of employment from 
 mills, furnaces and factories, came to us like familiar sounds, 
 reminding us of the bustle of our home towns. The situa 
 tion of the city is lovely. It lies at the head of the lake, 
 and on both sides of the little river Limmat, whose clear 
 green waters carry the collected meltings of the Alps to the 
 Rhine. Around the lake rise lofty green hills, which, slop 
 ing gently back, bear on their sides hundreds of pleasant 
 country-houses and farms, and the snowy Alpine range ex 
 tends along the southern sky. The Limmat is spanned by 
 a number of bridges, and its swift waters turn many mills 
 which are built above them. From these bridges one can 
 look out over the blue lake and down the thronged streets 
 of the city on each side, whose bright, cheerful houses are 
 prophetic of Italy. 
 
 Zurich can boast of finer promenades than any other city 
 in Switzerland. The old battlements arc planted with trees 
 and transformed into pleasant walks, which being elevated 
 
FRIENDLY GREETINGS. 307 
 
 above the city, command views of its beautiful environs. A 
 favorite place of resort is the Lindenhof, an elevated court 
 yard, shaded by immense trees. The fountains of water 
 under them are always surrounded by washerwomen, and in 
 the morning groups of merry school children may be seen 
 tumbling over the grass. The teachers take them there in 
 a body for exercise and recreation. The Swiss children are 
 beautiful, bright-eyed creatures ; there is scarcely one who 
 does not exhibit the dawning of an active, energetic spirit. 
 It may be partly attributed to the fresh, healthy climate of 
 Switzerland, but I am republican enough to believe that the 
 influence of the Government under which they live, has also 
 its share in producing the effect. 
 
 While enjoying the cool morning breeze on the bastion, 
 and listening to the stir of the streets below us, we were 
 also made aware of the social and friendly politeness of the 
 people. Those who passed us, on their walk around the 
 ramparts, greeted us almost with the familiarity of acquaint 
 ances. Simple as was the act, we felt grateful, for it had at 
 least the seeming of a friendly interest and a sympathy with 
 the loneliness which the stranger sometimes feels. A school 
 teacher leading her troop of merry children on their morn 
 ing walk around the bastion, nodded to us pleasantly, and 
 forthwith the whole company of chubby-cheeked rogues, 
 looking up at us with a pleasant archness, lisped a " guten 
 mogen " that made the hearts glad within us. I know of 
 nothing that has given me a more sweet and tender delight 
 than the greeting of a little child, who, leaving his noisy 
 playmates, ran across the street to me, and taking my hand 
 which he could barely clasp in both his own soft little ones, 
 
308 V1KWS A-FOOT. 
 
 looked up in my face with an expression so winning and 
 affectionate, that I loved him at once. The happy, honest 
 farmers, too, spoke to us cheerfully everywhere. We learned 
 a lesson from all this we felt that not a word of kindness 
 is ever wasted, that a simple friendly glance may cheer the 
 spirit and warm the lonely heart, and that the slightest 
 deed, prompted by generous sympathy, becomes a living 
 joy in the memory of the receiver, which blesses unceasingly 
 him who bestowed it. 
 
 We left Zurich the same afternoon, for Stafa, where we 
 were told the poet Freiligrath resided. The road led along 
 the bank of the lake, whose shores sloped gently up from the 
 water, covered with gardens and farm-houses, which, with 
 the bolder mountains that rose behind them, made a com 
 bination of the lovely and grand, on which the eye rested 
 with rapture. The sweetest cottages were embowered among 
 the orchards, and the whole country bloomed like a garden. 
 The waters of the lake are of a pale, transparent green, and 
 so clear that we could see its bottom of white pebbles, for 
 some distance. Here and there a quiet boat floated on its 
 surface. The opposite hills were covered with a soft blue 
 haze, and white villages sat along the shore, " like swans 
 among the reeds." Behind, we saw the woody range of the 
 Brunig Alp. The people bade us a pleasant good evening ; 
 there was a universal air of cheerfulness and content on 
 their countenances. 
 
 Towards evening, the clouds, which had hung in the south 
 all day, dispersed a little, and we could see the Bodiberg and 
 the Alps of Glarus. As sunset drew on, the broad summits 
 of snow and the clouds which wo;c i ! - 1 ;.- .,innl them, as 
 
THE ALP-GLOW. 309 
 
 Burned a Soft rosy hue, which increased in brilliancy as the 
 light of day faded. The rough, icy crags and snowy steeps 
 were fused in the warm light and half blended with the 
 bright clouds. This blaze of tlie mountains at sunset is called 
 the Alp-glow, and exceeds all one s highest conceptions of 
 Alpine grandeur. We watched the fading glory until it quite 
 died away, and the summits wore a livid, ashy hue, like the 
 mountains of a world wherein there was no life. In a few 
 minutes more the dusk of twilight spread over the scene, the 
 boatmen glided home over the still lake, and the herdsmen 
 drove their cattle back from pasture on the slopes and 
 meadows. 
 
 On inquiring for Freiligrath at Stafa, we found he had 
 removed to Rapperschwyl, some distance further. As it was 
 already late, we waited for the steamboat which leaves 
 Zurich every evening. It came along about eight o clock, 
 a little boat carried us out through rain and darkness to 
 meet it, and in half an hour we landed on the wharf at Rap 
 perschwyl. 
 
 There are two small islands in the lake, one of which, 
 with a little chapel rising from among its green trees, is 
 Ufnau, the grave of Ulrich von Hutten, one of the fathers of 
 the German Reformation. His fiery poems have been the 
 source from which many a German bard has derived his in 
 spiration ; and Freiligrath, who now lives in sight of his tomb 
 has published an indignant poem, because an inn with gam 
 ing tables has been established in the ruins of the castle neai 
 Creuznach, where Hutten found refuge from his enemies with 
 Franz von Sickingen, brother-in-law of "Goetz with the Iron 
 Hand." The monks of Einsiedeln, to whom Ufnau belongs. 
 
10 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 have carefully obliterated all traces of liis grave, so that the 
 exact spot is not known, in order that even a tombstone 
 might be denied him who once strove to overturn their 
 order. It matters little to that bold spirit whose motto was - 
 "The die is cast 7 have dared it /" the whole island is 
 his monument, if he need one 
 
 I spent the whole of the next morning with Freiligrath. 
 the poet, who was lately banished from Germany on account 
 of the liberal principles his last volume contains. He liven 
 in a pleasant country-house on the Meyerberg, an eminence 
 near Rapperschwyl, overlooking a glorious prospect. Ho 
 received me kindly and conversed much upon American lite 
 rature. He is a warm admire* of Bryant and Longfellow, 
 and has translated many of their poems into German. He 
 said he had received a warm invitation from a colony of 
 Germans in Wisconsin, to join them and enjoy that freedom 
 which his native land denies, but that his circumstances 
 would not allow it at present. He is perhaps thirty-five 
 years of age. His brow is high and noble, and his eyes, 
 which are large and of a clear gray, beam with serious, sad 
 dened thought. His long chestnut hair, uniting with a hand 
 some beard and moustache, gives a lion-like dignity to his 
 energetic countenance. His talented wife, Ida Freiligrath, 
 who shares his literary labors, and an amiable sister, are with 
 him in exile, and he is happier in their faithfulness than wher 
 lie enjoyed the favors of a corrupt king, 
 
 We crossed the long bridge from Ilapperschwyl, and took 
 the road over the mountain opposite, ascending for nearly 
 two hours along the side, with glorious views of the Lake of 
 Zurich and the mountains which inclose it. The upper and 
 
EI5SIEDELN. 311 
 
 lower ends of the lake were completely hidden by the storms, 
 which, to our regret, veiled the Alps, but that portion below 
 us lay spread out dim and grand, like a vast picture. It rained 
 almost constantly, and we were obliged occasionally to take 
 shelter in the pine forests, whenever a heavier cloud passed 
 over. The road was lined with beggars, who dropped on 
 their knees in the rain before us, or placed bars across the 
 way, and then took them down again, for which they de 
 manded money. 
 
 At length we reached the top of the pass, where many pil 
 grims to Einsiedeln had stopped at a little inn. Some of them 
 had come a long distance to pay their vows, especially as 
 the next day was the Ascension day of the Virgin, whose 
 image at Einsiedeln is noted for performing many miracles. 
 Passing on, we crossed a wild torrent by an arch called the 
 " Devil s Bridge." The lofty, elevated plains were covered 
 with scanty patches of grain and potatoes, and the boys 
 tended their goats on the grassy slopes, sometimes trilling or 
 yodling an Alpine melody. An hour s walk brought us to 
 Einsiedeln, a small town, whose only attraction is the Abbey 
 after Loretto, in Italy, the most celebrated resort for pil 
 grims in Europe. 
 
 We immediately entered the great church. The gorgeous 
 vaulted roof and long aisles were dim with the early evening ; 
 hundreds of worshippers sat around the sides, or knelt in 
 groups on the broad stone pavements, repeating their Pater* 
 nosters and Ave Marias in a shrill, monotonous tone, while 
 the holy image near the entrance was surrounded by persons, 
 many of whom came in the hope of being healed of some dis 
 order under which they suffered. I could not distinctly 
 
312 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 make out the image, for it was placed back within the 
 grating, and a crimson lamp behind it threw a strong lustre 
 on all sides, in the form of a glory. Many of the pilgrims 
 came a long distance. I saw some in the costume of the 
 Black Forest, others who appeared to be natives of the 
 Italian Cantons, and a group of young women wearing conical 
 fur caps, from the forests of Bregenz, on the Lake of Constance. 
 
 I was astonished at the splendor of this church, situated 
 in a lonely and unproductive Alpine valley. The lofty 
 arches of the ceiling, which are covered with fresco paint 
 ings, rest on enormous pillars of granite, and every image 
 and shrine is richly ornamented with gold. Some of the 
 chapels were filled with the remains of martyrs, and these 
 were always surrounded with throngs of believers. The 
 choir was closed by a tall iron grating ; but a single lamp, 
 which swung from the roof enabled me to see through the 
 darkness, that though much richer in ornaments than the 
 body of the church, it was less grand and impressive. The 
 frescoes which cover the ceiling are said to be the finest 
 paintings of the kind in Switzerland. 
 
 In the morning our departure was delayed by the rain, 
 and we took advantage of it to hear mass in the Abbey and 
 enjoy the heavenly music. The latter was of the loftiest 
 kind ; there was one voice among the singers I shall not 
 soon forget. It was like the warble of a bird which sings 
 out of very wantonness. On and on it sounded, making its 
 clear, radiant sweetness heard above the chant of the choir 
 and the thunder of the orchestra. Such a rich, varied, and 
 untiring strain of melody I have rarely listened to. 
 
 When the service ceased, we took a small road leading to 
 
THE SLIDE OP THE ROSSBERG. 313 
 
 Schwytz. We had now fairly entered the Alpine region, 
 and our first task was to cross a mountain. This having 
 been done, we kept along the back of the ridge which 
 bounds the lake of Zug on the south, terminating in the well 
 known Rossberg. The scenery became wilder with every 
 step. The luxuriant fields of herbage on the mountains 
 were spotted with the picturesque chalets of the hunters and 
 Alp-herds ; cattle and goats were browsing along the de 
 clivities, their bells tinkling most musically, and the little 
 streams fell in foam down the steeps. I here began to 
 realize my anticipations of Swiss scenery. Just on the 
 other side of the range, along which we travelled, lay the 
 little lake of Egeri and the valley of Morganten, where Tell 
 and his followers overcame the army of the German Em 
 peror. As we wound around the lake of Lowertz, we saw 
 the valley lying between the Rossberg and the Righi, which 
 latter mountain stood full in view. To our regret, and that 
 of all other travellers, the clouds hung low upon it, as they 
 had done for a week at least, and there was no prospect of 
 a change. The Rossberg, from which we descended, is 
 about four thousand feet in height ; a dark brown stripe 
 from its very summit to the valley below, shows the track 
 of the avalanche which, in 1806, overwhelmed Goldau, and 
 laid waste the beautiful vale of Lowertz. Four hundred 
 and fifty persons perished by this catastrophe, which was so 
 sudden that in five minutes the whole lovely valley was 
 transformed into a desolate wilderness. 
 
 An hour s walk through a blooming Alpine vale brought 
 us to the little town of Schwytz, the capital of the Canton, 
 -which stands at the foot of a tremendous rock-mountain, 
 
 14 
 
314 vr:-:Ws A-Foov. 
 
 The bare and rugged summits hang directly over the town 
 but the people dwell below without fear, although the 
 warning ruins of Goldau are full in sight. A narrow blue 
 line at the end of the valley which stretches westward, 
 marks the lake of the Four Cantons. Down this valley we 
 hurried, that we might not miss the boat which plies daily 
 from Luzerne to Fluelen. I regretted not being able to visit 
 Luzerne, as I had a letter to the distinguished Swiss com 
 poser, Schnyder van Wartensee, who resides there at present. 
 
 The scenery of the lake is exceedingly grand. Looking 
 towards Luzerne, we could see the dark mass of Mount 
 Pilatus on one side, and on the other the graceful outline of 
 the Highi, still wearing his hood of clouds. We put off in 
 a skiff to meet the boat, with two Capuchin friars in long 
 brown mantles and cowls, carrying rosaries at their girdles. 
 
 Nearly opposite Schwytz is the meadow of Griitli, where 
 the union of the Swiss patriots took place, and the bond was 
 sealed that enabled them to cast off their chains. It is a 
 little green slope on the side of the mountain, between the 
 two Cantons of Uri and Unterwalden, surrounded on all 
 sides by precipices. A crystal spring in the centre is 
 believed by the common people to have gushed up on the 
 spot where the three " men of Griitli " joined their hands in 
 the cause of Swiss liberty. It is also a popular belief that 
 they slumber in a rocky cavern near the spot, and that they 
 will arise and come forth when the nation is in danger. 
 Switzerland at present stands greatly in need of a new triad 
 to restore the ancient harmony. 
 
 We passed this glorious scene, almost the only green spot 
 on the bleak mountain-side, and swept around the base of 
 
TELL S CHAPSL. 31-5 
 
 the Axenberg, at the foot of which, in a rocky cave, stands 
 the chapel of William Tell, built on the spot where he leaped 
 from Gessler s boat during the storm. It sits at the base of 
 the rock, on the water s edge, and can be seen far over the 
 waves. The Alps, whose eternal snows are lifted dazzling 
 to the sky, complete the grandeur of a scene so hallowed by 
 the footsteps of Freedom, The grand and lonely solemnity 
 of the landscape impressed me with an awe, like that one 
 feels when standing in a mighty cathedral, when the aisles 
 are dim with twilight. And how full of interest to a citizen 
 of young and free America is a shrine where the votaries of 
 Liberty have turned to gather strength and courage, through 
 the storms and convulsions of five hundred years ! 
 
 We stopped at the village of Fluelen, at the head of the 
 fake, and walked on to Altorf, a distance of half a league. 
 Here, in the market-place, is a tower, said to be built on the 
 spot where the linden tree stood, under which the child of 
 Tell was placed, while, about a hundred yards distant, is a 
 fountain with Tell s statue, on the spot from whence he shot 
 the apple. If these localities are correct, he must indeed 
 have been master of the cross-bow. The tower is covered 
 with rude paintings of the principal events in the history of 
 Swiss liberty. I viewed these scenes with double interest 
 from having read Schiller s " Wilhelm Tell," just before 
 leaving Germany. The beautiful reply of his boy, when he 
 described to him the condition of the "land where there are 
 no mountains,* was sounding in my ears during the whole 
 
 day s journey : 
 
 Father, I d feel oppressed in that broad lanfl, 
 I d rather dwell beneath the avalanche ! n 
 
8 1C VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The little village of Burglen, whose spire we saw above 
 the forest, in a glen near by, was the birth-place of Tell, 
 and the place where his dwelling stood, is now marked by a 
 small chapel. In the Schachen, a noisy mountain stream 
 that comes down to join the Reuss, he was drowned, when 
 an old man, in attempting to rescue a child who had fallen 
 in a death worthy of the hero ! We bestowed a blessing 
 on his memory in passing, and then followed the banks of 
 the rapid Reuss, Twilight was gathering in the deep 
 Alpine glen, and the mountains on each side, half-seen 
 through the mist, looked like vast, awful phantoms. Soon 
 they darkened to black, indistinct masses; all was silent 
 except the deepened roar of the falling floods ; dark clouds 
 brooded above us like the outspread wings of night, and we 
 were glad when the little village of Amstegg was reached, 
 and the parlor of the inn opened to us a more cheerful, if 
 less romantic scene. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PASSAGE OF THE ST. GOTHARD. 
 
 In Alpine Day Chasm of the Eeuss The Devil s Bridge Andermatt Climbing 
 the St. Gothard Summit of the Pass A Rapid Descent into Italy Valley of the 
 Jicino Rugged Scenery Southern Vegetation Vineyards Italian Experiences 
 Junction with the Splfigen Road Bacchus On Lago Maggiore The Borromean 
 Isles Landing in Lombardy An Italian Landlord Arrival at Milan. 
 
 LEAVING Amstegg, I passed the whole day among snowy, 
 sky-piercing Alps, torrents, chasms and clouds ! The clouds 
 appeared to be breaking up as we set out, and the white 
 iop of the Reussberg was now and then visible in the sky. 
 Just above the village are the remains of Zwing Uri, the 
 castle begun by the tyrant Gessler, for the complete subju 
 gation of the canton. Following the Reuss up through a 
 narrow valley, we passed the Bristenstock, which lifts its 
 jagged crags nine thousand feet in the air, while on the 
 other side stand the snowy summits which lean towards the 
 Rhone Glacier and St. Gothard. From the deep glen 
 where the Reuss foamed down towards the Lake of the 
 Forest Cantons, the mountains rose with a majestic sweep 
 so far into the sky that the brain grew dizzy in following 
 
318 VIEWS A- FOOT. 
 
 their outlines. Woods, chalets, and slopes of herbago 
 covered their bases, where the mountain cattle and goats 
 were browsing, while the herd-boys sang their native melo 
 dies or woke the ringing echoes with the loud, sweet sounds 
 of their wooden horns ; higher up, the sides were broken 
 into crags and covered with stunted pines ; then succeeded 
 a belt of bare rock with a little snow lying in the crevices, 
 and the summits of dazzling white looked out from the 
 clouds half-way to the zenith. Sometimes when the vale 
 was filled with clouds, it was startling to see them parting 
 around a solitary summit, apparently isolated in the air at 
 an immense height, for the mountain to which it belonged 
 was hidden to the very base ! 
 
 The road passed from one side of the valley to the other, 
 crossing the Reuss on bridges sometimes ninety feet high. 
 After three or four hours walking, we reached a frightful 
 pass called the Schollenen, So narrow is the defile that, be 
 fore reaching it, the road seemed to enter directly into the 
 mountain. Precipices a thousand feet high tower above, and 
 the stream roars arid boils in the black depth below. The 
 road is a wonder of art ; it winds around the edge of horri 
 ble chasms or is carried on lofty arches across, with some 
 times a hold apparently so frail that one involuntarily shud 
 ders. At a place called the Devil s Bridge, the Reuss leaps 
 about seventy feet in three or four cascades, sending up a 
 continual cloud of spray, while a wind created by the fall,, 
 blows and whirls around, with a force that nearly lifts one 
 from his feet. 
 
 Beyond the Devil s Bridge, the mountains which nearly 
 touched before, interlock into each other, and a tunnel three 
 
CLIMBING THE ST. GOTHARD. 319 
 
 hundred and seventy-five feet long leads through the rock 
 into the vale of Urseren, surrounded by the Upper Alps 
 The little town of Andermatt lies in the middle of this val 
 ley, which, with the peaks around, is covered with short yel 
 lowish-brown grass. We met near Amstegg a little Italian 
 boy walking home from Germany, quite alone and without 
 money, for we saw him give his last kreutzer to a blind beg 
 gar along the road. We therefore took him with us, as he 
 was afraid to cross the St. Gothard alone. 
 
 After refreshing ourselves at Andermatt, we started, five 
 in number, including a German student, for the St. Gothard. 
 Behind the village of Hospiz, which stands at the bottom of 
 the valley leading to Realp and the Furca pass, the way 
 commences winding backwards and forwards, higher and 
 higher, through a valley covered with rocks, with the mighty 
 summits of the Alps around, untenanted save by the chamois 
 and mountain eagle. Not a tree was to be seen. The sides 
 of the mountains were covered with loose rocks waiting for 
 the next rain to wash them down, and the tops were robed 
 in eternal snow. A thick cloud rolled over us as we went 
 on, following the diminishing brooks to their snowy source 
 in the peak of St. Gothard. We cut off the bends of the 
 road by footpaths up the rocks, which we ascended 
 in single file, little Pietro with his staff and bundle 
 bringing up the rear. The rarefied air we breathed, seven 
 thousand feet above the sea, was like exhilarating gas. We 
 felt no fatigue, but ran and shouted and threw snow-balls in 
 the middle of August ! 
 
 After three hours walk we reached the two clear and 
 silent lakes which send their waters to the Adriatic and the 
 
320 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 North Son. Here, as we looked down on the Italian side, the 
 sky became clear ; we saw the top of St. G-othard many 
 thousand feet above, and stretching to the south, the sum 
 mits of the mountains which guard the vales of the Ticino 
 and the Adda. The former monastery has been turned 
 into an inn ; there is, however, a kind of church attached, 
 attended by a single monk. It was so cold that, although 
 late, we determined to descend to the first village. The 
 Italian side is very steep, and the road, called the Via 
 Trimola, is like a thread dropped down and constantly 
 doubling back upon itself. The deep chasms were filled with 
 snow, although exposed to the full force of the sun, and for 
 a long distance there was scarcely a sign of vegetation. 
 
 I thought, as we went down, that every step was bringing 
 me nearer to a sunnier land that the glories of Italy, 
 which had so long lain in the airy background of the future, 
 would soon spread themselves before me in their real or 
 imagined beauty. Beaching at dusk the last height above 
 the vale of the Ticino, we saw the little village of Airolo, 
 with its musical name, lying in a hollow of the mountains. A 
 few minutes of leaping, sliding, and rolling, took us down 
 the grassy declivity, and we found we had descended from 
 the top in an hour and a half, although the distance by 
 the road is nine miles ! I need not say how glad we were 
 to relieve our trembling knees and exhausted limbs. When 
 at night, I looked out of my chamber-window, the silver 
 moon of Italy (for we fancied that her light was softer and 
 that the skies were already bluer) hung trembling above the 
 fields of snow that stretched in their wintry brilliance along 
 the mountains around. I heard the roar of the Ticino and 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE TICINO. 321 
 
 the deepened sound of falling cascades, and thought, if I 
 were to take those waters for my guide, to what glorious 
 places they would lead me ! 
 
 We left Airolo early the next morning, to continue our 
 journey down the valley of the Ticino. The mists and 
 clouds of Switzerland were exchanged for a sky of the 
 purest blue, and we felt, for the first time in ten days, 
 uncomfortably warm. The mountains which flank the Aips 
 on this side, are still giants lofty and bare, and covered 
 with snow in many places. The limit of the German 
 dialect is on the summit of St. Gothard, and the peasants 
 saluted us with a " luon giorno" as they passed. This, 
 with the clearness of the skies and the warmth of the air, 
 made us feel that Italy was growing nearer. 
 
 On our first day s journey we passed through two terrific 
 mountain gorges, almost equalling in grandeur the defile of 
 the " Devil s Bridge." The Ticino, in its course to Lago 
 Maggiore, has to make a descent of nearly three thousand 
 feet, passing through three valleys, which lie like terraces, 
 one below the other. In passing from one to the other, it 
 forces its way in twenty cataracts through a cleft in the 
 mountains. The road, constructed with the utmost labor, 
 threads these dark chasms, sometimes carried in a tunnel 
 through the rock, sometimes passing on arches above the 
 boiling flood. I here noticed a very beautiful effect of the 
 water, perhaps attributable to some mineral substance it 
 contained. The spray and foam thrown up in the dashing 
 of the vexed current, was of a light, delicate pink, although 
 the stream itself was a soft blue ; and the contrast of these 
 two colors was very remarkable. 
 
 14* 
 
322 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 As we kept on, however, there was a very perceptible 
 change in the scenery. The gloomy pines disappeared, and 
 the mountains were covered, in their stead, with picturesque 
 chestnut trees, with leaves of a shining green. The grass 
 and vegetation were much more luxuriant than on the other 
 side of the Alps, and fields of maize and mulberry orchards 
 covered the valley. We saw the people busy at work reel 
 ing silk in the villages. Every mile we advanced made a 
 sensible change in the vegetation. The chestnuts were larg 
 er, the maize higher, the few straggling grape-vines increased 
 into bowers and vineyards, while the gardens were filled 
 with plum, pear and fig-trees, and the display of delicious 
 fruit which we saw in the villages, gave us promise of the 
 luxuriance that was to come. 
 
 The vineyards are much more beautiful than the German 
 fields of stakes. The vines are not trimmed, but grow from 
 year to year over a frame higher than the head, supported 
 through the whole field on stone pillars. They interlace 
 and form a complete leafy screen, while the clusters hang 
 below. The light came dimly through the green, transpa 
 rent leaves, and nothing was wanting to make them real 
 bowers of Arcadia. Although we were still in Switzerland, 
 the people began to have that lazy, indolent look which 
 characterizes the Italians ; most of the occupations wore, 
 earned on in the open air, and brown-robed, sandalled friars 
 were going about from house to house, collecting money and 
 provisions for their support. 
 
 We passed Faido and Giornico, near which last village 
 are the remains of an old castle, supposed to have been 
 built by the ancient Gauls, and stopped for the night at 
 
ALPINE VALLEYS. 323 
 
 Cresciano, which being entirely Italian, we had an opportu 
 nity to put in practice the few words we had picked up from 
 Pietro. The little fellow had parted from us with regret a 
 few hours before, at Biasco, where he had relations. The 
 rustic landlord at Cresciano was an honest young fellow, 
 who tried to serve us as well as he could, but we made some 
 ludicrous mistakes through our ignorance of the language- 
 Three hours walk brought us to Bellinzona, the capital 
 of the canton. Before reaching it, our road joined that of 
 the Spliigen which comes down through the valley of 
 Bernardino. From the bridge where the junction takes 
 place we had a triple view, the grandeur of which took me 
 by surprise, even after coming from Switzerland. We stood 
 at the union of three valleys that leading to St. Gothard, 
 terminated by the glaciers of the Bernese Oberland, that 
 running off obliquely to the Spliigen, and finally the broad 
 vale of the Ticino, extending to Lago Maggiore, whose pur 
 ple mountains closed the vista. Each valley was perhaps 
 two miles broad and from twenty to thirty long, and the 
 mountains that inclosed them from five to seven thousand 
 feet in height, so you may perhaps form some idea what a 
 view down three such avenues in this Alpine temple 
 would be. 
 
 We left Bellinzona at noon, and saw, soon after, from an 
 eminence, the blue line of Lago Maggiore stretched across 
 the bottom of the valley. We saw sunset fade away over 
 the lake, but it was clouded, and did not realize my ideal of 
 such a scene in Italy. A band of wild Italians paraded up 
 and down the village, drawing one of their number in a hand 
 cart. They made a great noise with a drum and trumpet, 
 
324 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and were received everywhere with shouts of laughter. A 
 great jug of wine was not wanting, and the whole seemed 
 to me a very characteristic scene 
 
 We were early awakened at Magadino, at the head of 
 Lago Maggiore, and after swallowing a hasty breakfast, went 
 on board the steamboat " San Carlo," for Sesto Calende. We 
 got under way at six o clock, and were soon in motion over 
 the crystal mirror. The water is of the loveliest green hue, 
 and so transparent that we seemed to be floating in mid-air. 
 Another heaven arched far below us ; other chains of moun 
 tains joined their bases to those which surrounded the lake, 
 and the mirrored cascades leaped upward to meet their ori 
 ginals at the surface. It may be because I have seen it more 
 recently, that the water of Lago Maggiore appears to me the 
 most beautiful in the world. I was delighted with the 
 Scotch lakes, and enraptured with the Traunsee and " Zurich s 
 waters," but this last exceeds them both. I am now incapa 
 ble of any stronger feeling, until I see the Egean from the 
 Grecian Isles. 
 
 The morning was cloudy, and the white wreaths hung low 
 on the mountains, whose rocky sides Avere covered every 
 where with the rank and luxuriant growth of this climate. 
 As we advanced further over this glorious mirror, the houses 
 became more Italian-like ; the lower stories rested on arched 
 passages, and the windows were open, without glass, while 
 in the gardens stood the solemn, graceful cypress, and vines, 
 heavy with ripening grapes, hung from bough to bough 
 through the mulberry orchards. Half-way down, in a broad 
 bay, which receives the waters of a stream that descends 
 with the Simplon, are the celebrated Borromean Islands. 
 
ON LAGO MAGGIORE. 325 
 
 They are four in number, and seem to float like fairy crea 
 tions on the water, while the lofty hills form a background 
 whose grandeur enhances by contrast their exquisite beauty. 
 
 On passing by Isola Madre, we could see the roses in its 
 terraced gardens and the broad-leaved aloes clinging to the 
 rocks. Isola Bella, the loveliest of them all, as its name 
 denotes, was farther off; it rose like a pyramid from the 
 water, terrace above terrace to the summit, and its gardens 
 of never fading foliage, with the glorious panorama around, 
 might make it a paradise, if life were to be dreamed away. 
 On the northern side of the bay lies a large town with a lofty 
 Romanesque tower, and noble mountains sweep around as 
 if to shut out the world from such a scene. The lake was 
 perfectly calm, and groves and gardens slept mirrored in the 
 dark green wave, while the Alps rose afar through the dim, 
 cloudy air. Towards the other end the hills sink lower, and 
 slope off into the plains of Lombardy. Near Arona, on the 
 western side, is a large monastery, overlooking the lower 
 part of the lake. Beside it, on a hill, is a colossal statue of 
 San Carlo Borromeo, who gave his name to the lovely islands 
 above. 
 
 After a seven hours passage, we ran into Sesto Calende, 
 at the foot of the lake. Here passengers and baggage were 
 tumbled promiscuously on shore, the latter gathered into the 
 office to be examined, and the former left at liberty to ram 
 ble about an hour until their passports could be signed. We 
 employed the time in trying the flavor of the grapes and 
 peaches of Lombardy, and in looking at the groups of tra 
 vellers who had come down from the Alps with the annual 
 avalanche at this season. The custom-house officers were 
 
326 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 extremely civil and obliging, as they did not think necessary 
 to examine our knapsacks, and our passports being soon signed, 
 we were at liberty to enter again into the dominions of his 
 Majesty of Austria. Our companion, the German, whose 
 feet could carry him no further, took a seat on the top of a 
 diligence for Milan ; we left Sesto Calende on foot, and 
 plunged into the cloud of dust which was whirling towards 
 the capital of Northern Italy. 
 
 We spent the night at the little village of Casina, about 
 sixteen miles from Milan, and here made our first experience 
 of the honesty of Italian inns. We had taken the precaution 
 to inquire beforehand the price of a bed ; but it seemed un 
 necessary and unpleasant, as well as evincing a mistrustful 
 spirit, to do the same with everv article we asked for, so we 
 decided to leave it to the host s conscience not to overcharge 
 us Imagine our astonishment, however, when at starting, 
 a bill was presented to us, in which the smallest articles 
 were set down at three or four times their value. We re 
 monstrated, but to little purpose ; the fellow knew scarcely 
 any French, and we as little Italian, so rather than lose time 
 and temper, we paid what he demanded and went on, leav 
 ing him to laugh at the successful imposition. 
 
 About noon, the road turned into a broad and beautiful 
 avenue of poplars, down which we saw at a distance, the 
 triumphal arch terminating the Simplon road, which we had 
 followed from Sesto Calende. Beyond it rose the slight and 
 airy pinnacle of. the Duomo. We passed by the exquisite 
 structure, gave up our passports at the gates, traversed the 
 broad Piazza d Armi, and found ourselves at liberty to choose 
 one of the dozen streets that led into the heart of the city. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MILAN AND THE JOURNEY TO GENOA. 
 
 The Streets of Milan The Duomo Its Interior Art based on Nature Italian 
 Priestcraft The Arch of Peace Financial Distress Believed by a German 
 Lawyer Thunder Storms Lions in Pavia Crossing the Po Magnificent View 
 of the Alps The Second Day s Travel An Italian Sunset A Pinto, of Wine- 
 Morning Pilgrim Travel First View of the Mediterranean The Descent to 
 ^enoa. 
 
 seeking our way at random to the " Pension Suisse," 
 whitlier we had been directed by a German gentleman, we 
 were agreeably impressed with the gaiety and bustle of 
 Milan. The shops and stores are all open to the street, so 
 that the city resembles a great bazaar. It was odd to see 
 blacksmiths, tailors, and shoemakers, working unconcernedly 
 in the open air, with crowds continually passing before them. 
 The streets are filled with venders of fruit, who call out the 
 names with a long, distressing cry, like that of a person 
 in great agony. Organ-grinders parade constantly about, 
 and snatches of song are heard among the gay crowd, on 
 every side. 
 
328 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 In this lively, noisy Italian city, nearly all there is to see 
 may be comprised in four things : the Duomo, the triumphal 
 arch over the Simplon, La Scala, and the Picture Gallery. 
 The first alone is more interesting than many an entire 
 city. It stands in an irregular open place, closely hemmed 
 in by houses on two sides, so that it can be seen to advan 
 tage from only one point. It is a mixture of the Gothic and 
 Romanesque styles ; the body of the structure is entirely 
 covered with statues and richly wrought sculpture, with 
 needle-like spires of white marble rising up from every 
 corner. But of the exquisite, airy look of the whole mass, 
 although so solid and vast, it is impossible to convey an 
 idea. It resembles some fabric of frost-work which winter 
 traces o\i the window panes. 
 
 Ascending the marble steps which lead to the front, I 
 lifted the folds of the heavy curtain and entered. What a 
 glorious aisle ! The mighty pillars support a magnificent 
 arched ceiling, painted to resemble fretwork, and the little 
 light that falls through the small windows above, enters 
 tinged with a dim golden hue. A feeling of solemn awe 
 comes over one as he steps with a hushed tread along the 
 colored marble floor, and measures the massive columns 
 until they blend with the gorgeous arches above. There 
 are four rows of these, nearly fifty in all, and when I state 
 that they are eight feet in diameter, and sixty or seventy in 
 height, some idea may be formed of the grandeur of the 
 building. The Duomo is not yet entirely finished, the 
 workmen being still employed in various parts, but it is said 
 that, when completed, there will be four thousand statues 
 on different parts of it. 
 
ART BASED ON NATURE. 329 
 
 The design of the Duomo is said to be taken from Monte 
 Rosa, one of the loftiest peaks of the Alps. Its hundreds 
 of sculptured pinnacles, rising from every part of the body 
 of the church, certainly bear a striking resemblance to the 
 splintered ice-crags of Savoy. Thus we see how Art, 
 mighty and endless in her forms though she be, is in every 
 thing but the child of Nature. Her divinest conceptions are 
 but copies of objects which we behold every day. The 
 faultless beauty of the Corinthian capital the springing 
 and intermingling arches of the Gothic aisle the pillared 
 portico or the massive and sky-piercing pyramid are but 
 attempts at reproducing, by the studied regularity of Art, 
 the ever-varied and ever-beautiful forms of mountain, rock 
 and forest. But there is oftentimes a more thrilling sensa 
 tion of enjoyment produced by the creation of man s hand 
 and intellect than the grander effects of Nature, existing 
 constantly before our eyes. It would seem as if man mar 
 velled more at his own work than at the work of the Powei 
 which created him. 
 
 The streets of Milan abound with priests in their cocked 
 hats and long black robes. No sight lately has saddened 
 lie so much as to see a bright, beautiful boy, of twelve or 
 thirteen years, in those gloomy garments. Poor child ! he 
 little knows now what he may have to endure. A lonely, 
 cheerless life, where every affection must be crushed as un 
 holy, and every pleasure denied as a crime ! And I knew 
 by his fair brow and tender lip, that he had a warm and 
 loving heart. It is mournful to see a people oppressed in 
 the name of rcligio n. Immense treasures, wrung drop by 
 drop from the credulity of the poor and ignorant, are made 
 
330 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 use of to pamper the luxury of those who profess to be 
 mediators between man and the Deity. The poor wretch 
 may perish of starvation on a floor of precious mosaic which 
 perhaps his own pittance has helped to form, while ceilings 
 and shrines of inlaid gold mock his dying eye with their 
 useless splendor. Such a system of oppression, disguised 
 under the holiest name, can only be sustained by the con 
 tinuance of ignorance and blind superstition. Knowledge 
 Truth Reason these are the ramparts which Liberty 
 throws up to guard her dominions from usurpation. 
 
 Next to the Duomo, the most beautiful specimen of archi 
 tecture in Milan is the Arch of Peace on the northern side 
 of the city, at the termination of the Simplon Road. It was 
 the intention of Napoleon to carry the road under this 
 arch, across the Piazza d Armi, and to cut a way for it direct 
 ly into the heart of the city, but the fall of his dynasty pre 
 vented the execution of this magnificent design, as well as 
 the completion of the arch itself. This has been done by 
 the Austrian government, according to the original plan ; 
 but they have inscribed upon it the name of Francis I., and 
 changed the bas-reliefs of Lodi and Marengo into those of 
 fields where their forces had gained the victory. It is even 
 said that in many parts which were already finished, they 
 altered the splendid Roman profile of Napoleon into the hag 
 gard features of Francis of Austria. 
 
 The bronze statues on the top were made by an artist of 
 Bologna, by Napoleon s order, and are said to be among the 
 finest works of modern times. In the centre is the goddess 
 of Peace, in a triumphal car, drawn by six horses, while on 
 the corners four angels, mounted, are setting out to convey 
 
FINANCIAL DISTRESS. 331 
 
 the tidings to the four quarters of the globe. The artist has 
 caught the spirit of motion and chained it in these moveless 
 figures. One would hardly feel surprised if the goddess, 
 chariot, horses and all, were to start and roll away through 
 the air. 
 
 We saw the opera of William Tell at La ScaJa, visited 
 the famous Picture Gallery in the Palazzo Cabrera, and after 
 a stay of two days, were ready to continue our journey, but 
 for one very disagreeable circumstance. Nearly all our 
 funds were contained in a draft on a Saxon merchant in 
 Leghorn, which was useless in Milan ; we had failed to re 
 ceive at Heidelberg a sum which our host in Frankfort 
 promised to send us, and there was barely enough in our 
 pockets to pay our bill at the Pension Suisse. Our German 
 companion had gone off to Como, on his way homeward, 
 and we knew no one in the city. What was to be done 1 
 We racked our brains to find some expedient, but without 
 success, when, on coming out of the Duomo one afternoon, 
 we encountered Mitterma ier, the distinguished Law Profes 
 sor in the University of Heidelberg, with whom my cousin 
 was slightly acquainted. It was a bold undertaking to ask 
 
 assistance of such a man, but F resolved to do it, and 
 
 accordingly visited him in the evening at his hotel. Herr 
 Mittermaier was no doubt accustomed to applications of the 
 kind, and very likely his confidence had often been abused, 
 for he showed great reluctance, but finally consented, with a 
 bad grace, to advance two napoleons, to be repaid in Heidel 
 berg, at the commencement of the next University term. 
 
 We shared thoroughly in F s mortification and wounded 
 
 pride when he returned to us, and resolved to undergo any- 
 
332 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 thing but starvation before asking a similar favor of any one 
 again. We paid our bill the same night, and in order to 
 make our slender store last as long as possible, arose at dawn 
 and set out on foot for Genoa. 
 
 Once fairly outside of the city we took the road to Pavia, 
 along the banks of the canal, just as the rising sun gilded 
 the marble spire of the Duomo, The country was a perfect 
 level, and the canal, which was in many places higher than 
 the land through which it passed, served also as a means of 
 irrigation for the many rice -fields. The sky grew cloudy 
 and dark, and before we reached Pavia gathered to a heavy 
 storm. Torrents of rain poured down, accompanied with 
 heavy thunder ; we crept under an old gateway for shelter, 
 as no house was near. Finally, as the clouds cleared away, 
 the square brown towers of the old city rose above the trees, 
 and we entered the gate through a fine shaded avenue. Our 
 passports were of course demanded, but we were only de 
 tained a minute or two. The only thing of interest is the 
 University, formerly so celebrated ; it has at present about 
 eight hundred students. 
 
 We have reason to remember the city from another circum 
 stance the singular attention we excited. I doubt if 
 Columbus was an object of greater curiosity to the simple 
 natives of the new world, than we three Americans were to 
 the good people of Pavia. I know not what part of our 
 dress or appearance could have caused it, but we were 
 watched like wild animals. If we happened to pause and 
 look at anything in the street, there was soon a crowd of 
 attentive observers, and as we passed on, every door and 
 window was full of heads. We stopped in the market-place 
 
CROSSING THE PO. 333 
 
 to purchase some bread and fruit for dinner, which increased, 
 if possible, the sensation. We saw eyes staring and fingers 
 pointing at us from every door and alley. I am generally 
 willing to contribute as much as possible to the amusement 
 or entertainment of others, but such attention was absolutely 
 embarrassing. There was nothing to do but to appear 
 unconscious of it, and we went along with as much noncha 
 lance as if the whole town belonged to us. 
 
 We crossed the Ticino, on whose banks near Pavia, was 
 fought the first great battle between Hannibal and the 
 Romans. On the other side our passports were demanded 
 at the Sardinian frontier and our knapsacks searched, which 
 having proved satisfactory, we were allowed to enter the 
 kingdom. Late in the afternoon we reached the Po, which 
 in winter must be a quarter of a mile wide, but the summer 
 heats had dried it up to a small stream, so that the bridge of 
 boats rested nearly its whole length in sand. We sat on the 
 bank in the shade, and looked at the chain of hills which 
 rose in the south, following the course of the Po, crowned 
 with castles and villages and shining towers. It was here 
 that I first began to realize Italian scenery. Although the 
 hills were bare, they lay so warm and glowing in the sun 
 shine, and the deep blue sky spread so calmly above, that it 
 recalled all my dreams of the fair land we had entered. 
 
 We stopped for the night at the little village of Casteggio, 
 which lies at the foot of the hills, and next morning resumed 
 our pilgrimage. Here a new delight awaited us. The skj 
 was of a heavenly blue, without even the shadow of a cloud, 
 and full and fair in the morning sunshine we could see the 
 whole range of the Alps, from the blue hills of Friuli, which 
 
334 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sweep down to Venice and the Adriatic, to the lofty peaks 
 which stretch away to Nice and Marseilles ! Like a summer 
 cloud, except that they were far more dazzling and glorious, 
 lay to the north of us the glaciers and untrodden snow-fields 
 of the Bernese Oberland ; a little to the right we saw the 
 double peak of St. Gothard, where six days before we shi 
 vered in the region of eternal winter, while far to the north 
 west rose the giant dome of Mont Blanc. Monte Rosa stood 
 near him, not far from the Great St. Bernard, and further to 
 the south Mont Cenis guarded the entrance from Piedmont 
 into France. I leave the reader to conceive the majesty of 
 such a scene, and he may perhaps imagine, for I cannot de 
 scribe, the feelings with which I gazed upon it. 
 
 At Tortona, the next post, a great market was being held; 
 the town was filled with country people selling their produce, 
 and with venders of wares of all kinds. Fruit was very 
 plentiful grapes, ripe figs, peaches and melons were abun 
 dant, and for a trifle one could purchase a sumptuous ban 
 quet. On inquiring the road to Novi, the people made us 
 imderstand, after much difficulty, that there was a nearer 
 way across the country, which came into the post-road again, 
 and we agreed to take it. After two or three hours walk 
 ing in a burning sun, where our only relief was the sight of 
 the Alps and a view of the battle-field of Marengo, which lay 
 just on our right, we came to a stand the road terminated 
 at a large stream, where workmen were busily engaged in 
 making a bridge across. We pulled off our boots and 
 waded through, took a refreshing bath in the clear waters, 
 and walked on through by-lanes. The sides were lined 
 with luxuriant vines, bending under the ripening vintage, 
 
SUNSET VIEW OF THE ALPS. 335 
 
 and wo often cooled our thirst with some of the rich 
 bunches. 
 
 The large branch of the Po we crossed, came down from 
 the mountains, which we were approaching. As we reached 
 the post-road again, they were glowing in the last rays of the 
 sun, and the evening vapors that settled over the plain con 
 cealed the distant Alps, although the snowy top of the Jung- 
 frau and her companions the Wetterhorn and Schreckhorn, 
 rose above it like the hills of another world. A castle or 
 church of brilliant white marble glittered on the summit of 
 one of the mountains near us, and as the sun went down 
 without a cloud, the distant peaks changed in hue to a glowing 
 purple, amounting almost to crimson, which afterwards dark 
 ened into a deep violet. The western half of the sky was 
 of a pale orange, and the eastern a dark rose-color, which 
 blended together in the blue of the zenith, that deepened as 
 twilight came on. 
 
 We stopped the second night at Arquato, a little village 
 among the mountains, and after having bargained with the 
 merry landlord for our lodgings, in broken Italian, took a last 
 look at the plains of Piedmont and the Swiss Alps, in the 
 growing twilight. On ordering our supper, the landlord 
 asked whether we would have a pinto, of wine. In our igno 
 rance of Italian we supposed that a pinta of course meant 
 a pint, and on learning that it cost about seven cents, sup 
 posed that the wine must be very good. But the pinta 
 proved to be three quarts at least, and we drank the whole 
 of it (having paid for it) without exhilaration. We gazed 
 out on the darkening scene until the sky was studded with 
 stars, and went to rest wit<b tb^ exciting thought of seeing 
 
336 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Genoa and the Mediterranean on the morrow. Next morn, 
 ing we started early, and after walking some distance made 
 our breakfast in a grove of chestnuts, on the cool mountain 
 side, beside a fresh stream of water. The sky shone like a 
 polished gem, and the glossy leaves of the chestnuts gleamed 
 in the morning sun. Here and there, on a rocky height, 
 stood the remains of some knightly castle, telling of the Goths 
 and Normans who descended through these mountain passes 
 to plunder Home. 
 
 As the sun grew high, the heat and dust became intolera 
 ble, and this, in connection with the attention we raised 
 everywhere, made us somewhat tired of foot-travelling in 
 Italy. I verily believe the people took us for pilgrims on 
 account of our long white blouses, and had I a scallop shell 
 I would certainly have stuck it into my hat to complete the 
 appearance. We stopped once to ask a priest about the 
 road, and when he had told us, he shook hands with us and 
 gave us a parting benediction. At the common inns, where 
 we stopped, we always met with civil treatment, though, in 
 deed, as we only slept in them, there was little chance of 
 practising imposition. We bought our simple meals at the 
 baker s and grocer s, and ate them in the shade of the grape 
 bowers, whose rich clusters added to the repast. In this 
 manner, we enjoyed Italy at the expense of a franc 
 daily. 
 
 About noon, after winding about through the narrow de 
 files, the road began ascending. The reflected heat from 
 the hills on each side made it like an oven ; there was not 
 a breath of air stirring ; but we all felt, although no one said 
 it, that from the summit we should see the Mediterraneaa 
 
FIRST VIEW OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 337 
 
 and we pushed on as if life or death depended on it. 
 Finally, the highest point came in sight we redoubled our 
 exertions, and a few minutes more brought us to the top, 
 breathless with fatigue and expectation. I glanced down 
 the other side, and a confusion of barren mountains lay be 
 fore me ; the farthest peaks rose up afar and dim, crowned 
 with white towers, and between two of them which stood apart, 
 like the pillars of a gateway, we saw the broad expanse of 
 blue water stretching away to the horizon ! 
 
 It would have been a thrilling delight to see any ocean, 
 when one has rambled thousands of miles among the moun 
 tains and vales of the inland, but to behold this sea, of all 
 others, was glorious indeed ! This sea, whose waves wash 
 the feet of Naples, Constantinople and Alexandria, and 
 break on the hoary shores where Troy and Tyre and Car 
 thage have mouldered away whose breast has been fur 
 rowed by the keels of a hundred nations through more than 
 forty centuries, from the first rude voyage of Jason and his 
 Argonauts to the thunders of Navarino that heralded the 
 second birth of Greece ! You cannot wonder that we grew 
 romantic ; but short space was left for sentiment in the 
 burning sun, with Genoa to be reached before night. The 
 mountain we crossed is called the Bochetta, one of the 
 loftiest of the sea- Alps (or Appenines). The road winds 
 steeply down towards the sea, following a broad mountain 
 rivulet, now dried up, as is nearly every stream among the 
 mountains. It was a long way to us ; the mountains seem 
 ed as if they would never unfold and let us out on the 
 shore, and our weary Kmbs did penance enough for a multi 
 tude of sins. The dusk was beginning to deepen over the 
 
 15 
 
338 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 bay, and the purple hues of sunset were dying away from 
 its amphitheatre of hills, as we came in sight of the gorge 
 ous city. Half the population were out to celebrate a fes 
 tival, and we made our entry in the triumphal procession of 
 some saint. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 SCENES IN GENOA, LEGHORN, AND PISA. 
 
 Genoa at Snnset Appearance of the City A Religious Procession Another 
 Financial Difficulty Embarking for Leghorn A Night at Sea Morning in Tus^ 
 cany Landing A Polyglott Population The Ardenza Criminals at Work My 
 Comrades Relieved Approach to Pisa The City The Leaning Tower The 
 Echo in the Baptistery The Campo Santo A Vetturino for Florence An 
 Italian Companion Night-Journey in the Rain Florence at Last. 
 
 HAS the reader ever seen some grand painting of a city, 
 rising with its domes and towers and palaces from the edge 
 of a glorious bay, shut in by mountains the whole scene 
 clad in those deep, delicious, sunny hues, which we admire 
 so much in the picture, although they appear unrealized in 
 Nature? If so, he can figure to himself Genoa, as she 
 appeared to us at sunset, from the battlements west of the 
 city. When we had passed through the gloomy gate of the 
 fortress that guards the western promontory, the whole 
 scene opened on us at once in all its majesty. The battle 
 ments where we were standing, and the blue mirror of the 
 Mediterranean just below, with a few vessels moored near the 
 shore, made up the foreground ; just in front lay the queenly 
 
340 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 city, stretching out to the eastern point of tlie bay, like a 
 great meteor this point, crowned with the towers and 
 dome of a cathedral, representing the nucleus, while the tail 
 gradually widened out and was lost among the numberless 
 villas that reached to the top of the mountains behind. As 
 we gazed, a purple glow lay on the bosom of the sea, while 
 far beyond the city, the eastern half of the mountain cres 
 cent around the gulf was tinted with the loveliest hue of 
 orange. The impressions which one derives from looking 
 on remarkable scenery depend, for much of their effect, on 
 the time and weather. I have been very fortunate in this 
 respect in two instances, and shall carry with me through 
 life, two glorious pictures of a very different character the 
 wild sublimity of the Brocken in cloud and storm, and the 
 splendor of Genoa in an Italian sunset. 
 
 Genoa has been called the " city of palaces," and it well 
 deserves the appellation. Row above row of magnificent 
 structures rise amid gardens along the side of the hills, and 
 many of the streets, though narrow and crooked, are lined 
 entirely with the splendid dwellings of the Genoese nobles. 
 All these speak of the republic in its days of wealth and 
 power, when it could cope successfully with Venice, and 
 Doria could threaten to bridle the horses of St. Mark. At 
 present its condition is far different ; although not so fallen 
 as its rival, it is but a shadow of its former self. 
 
 We entered Genoa, as I have already said, in a religious 
 procession. On passing the gate we saw from the concourse 
 of people and the many banners hanging from the windows 
 or floating across the streets, that it was the day of a festa. 
 Before entering the city we reached the procession itself; 
 
A KKLIGiOl S IMluCKh SION. 341 
 
 which was one of unusual solemnity. As it was impossible 
 in the dense crowd to pass it, we struggled through until we 
 reached a good point for seeing the whole, and slowly moved 
 on with it through the city. First went a company of boys 
 in white robes; then followed a body of friars, dressed in 
 long black cassocks, and with shaven crowns ; then a com 
 pany of soldiers with a band of music ; then a body of nuns, 
 wrapped from head to foot in blue robes, and chanting in a 
 low voice ; then followed another company of friars, and 
 after them a great number of priests in white and black 
 robes, bearing the statue of the saint, with a pyramid of 
 flowers, crosses, and blazing wax tapers, while companies of 
 soldiery, monks, and music, brought up the rear. The 
 whole scene, dimly lighted by the wax tapers, produced in 
 me a feeling nearly akin to fear, as if I were witnessing 
 some ghostly, unearthly spectacle. To rites like these, 
 however, which occur every few weeks, the people must be 
 well accustomed. 
 
 Although we had spent but three francs apiece since 
 leaving Milan, and hoped to save enough to enable one of 
 us to go on to Leghorn and have our draft cashed, we found 
 that the signing of a passport would cost twenty francs (ten 
 of which went to the American Consulate), and a second- 
 cabin passage to Leghorn as much more. We again fell 
 short, and in this emergency applied to Mr. Moro, the Ameri 
 can Vice-Consul. After submitting the draft to his secretary, 
 who was a German and pronounced it genuine, and who 
 made many unsuccessful inquiries among the merchants to 
 ascertain whether the house on which it was drawn had any 
 correspondents in Genoa, Mr. Moro finally agreed to advance 
 
342 VIEWS A-FOOTo 
 
 me money for my passage, with the understanding that I 
 should immediately forward enough to repay him, and to 
 relieve my two friends, who were to remain behind as 
 hostages. Our second embarrassment was thus overcome, 
 and we now felt confident of getting to Florence before 
 any further difficulties occurred. There was a boat to 
 leave the same evening for Leghorn, and I at once took 
 passage. 
 
 The Virjilio was advertised to leave at six o clock, and I 
 accordingly went out to her in a little boat half an hour 
 beforehand ; but we were delayed much longer, and I saw 
 sunset again fade over the glorious amphitheatre of palaces 
 and mountains, with the same orange glow the same purple 
 and crimson flush, deepening into twilight as before. An 
 old blind man in a skiff, floated around under the bows of the 
 boat on the glassy water, singing to the violin a plaintive air 
 that appeared to be an evening hymn to the Virgin. There 
 was something very touching in his venerable countenance, 
 with the sightless eyes turned upward to the sunset heaven 
 whose glory he could never more behold. 
 
 The lamps were lit on the tower at the end of the mole as 
 we glided out on the open sea ; I stood on deck and watched 
 the receding lights of the city, until they and the mountains 
 above them were blended with the darkened sky. The sea- 
 breeze was fresh and cool, and the stars glittered with a 
 frosty clearness, which would have made the night delicious, 
 had not a slight rolling of the waves obliged me to go below. 
 Here, besides being half sea-sick, I was placed at the mercy 
 of many voracious fleas. This was the first time I had suf 
 fered from these cannibals, and such were my torments, that 
 
MORNING IN TUSCANY. 343 
 
 I almost wished some bloodthirsty Italian would come and 
 put an end to them with his stiletto. 
 
 The first ray of dawn that stole into the cabin sent me on 
 deck. The hills of Tuscany lay in front, sharply outlined 
 on the reddening sky ; near us was the steep and rocky isle 
 of Gorgona ; and far to the south-west, like a low mist along 
 the water, ran the shores of Corsica the birth-place of 
 Columbus and Napoleon ! As the dawn brightened we saw 
 on the southern horizon a cloud-like island, also imperishably 
 connected with the name of the latter the prison-kingdom 
 of Elba. North of us extended the rugged mountains of 
 Carrara that renowned range whence has sprung many a 
 form of almost breathing beauty, and where yet slumber, 
 perhaps, in the unhewn marble, the god-like shapes of an 
 age of Art, more glorious than any the world has ever yet 
 beheld ! 
 
 The sun rose from behind the Appenines, and masts and 
 towers became visible through the golden haze, as we 
 approached the shore. On a flat space between the sea and 
 the hills, not far from the foot of Montenero, stands Leg 
 horn. The harbor is protected by a mole, leaving a narrow 
 passage, through which we entered, and after waiting two 
 hours for the visit of the health and police officers, we were 
 permitted to go on shore. The first thing that struck me, 
 was the fine broad streets ; the second, the motley character 
 of the population. People were hurrying about, noisy and 
 bustling Greeks in their red caps and capotes ; grave 
 turbaned and bearded Turks ; dark Moors ; the corsair- 
 looking natives of Tripoli and Tunis, and seamen of nearly 
 every nation. At the hotel where I stayed, we had a eingu- 
 
344 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 lar mixture of nations at dinner : two French, two Swiss, 
 one Genoese, one Roman, one American and one Turk 
 and we were waited on by a Tuscan and a Moor ! 
 
 The only place of amusement here in summer is a drive 
 along the sea shore, called the Ardenza, which is frequented 
 every evening by all who can raise a vehicle. I visited it 
 twice with a German friend. The road leads out along the 
 Mediterranean, past an old fortress, to a large establishment 
 for sea bathers, where it ends in a large ring, around which 
 the carriages pass and re-pass, until sunset has gone out over 
 the sea, when they return to the city in a mad gallop, or as 
 fast as the lean horses can draw them. In driving around, 
 we met two or three carriages of Turks, in one of which I 
 saw a woman of Tunis, with a curious gilded head-dress, 
 eighteen inches in height. 
 
 I frequently witnessed a spectacle which wa exceedingly 
 revolting to me. The condemned criminals, chained two and 
 two, are kept at work through the city, cleaning the streets. 
 They are dressed in coarse garments of a dirty red color, 
 with the name of the crime for which they were convicted, 
 painted on the back. I shuddered to see so many marked 
 with the words " omicidio premeditate" All day they are 
 thus engaged, exposed to the scorn and contumely of the 
 crowd, and at night dragged away to be incarcerated in 
 :lamp, unwholesome dungeons, excavated under the public 
 thoroughfares. 
 
 I presented my draft, drew a sufficient amount of money 
 for my needs, and forwarded the requisite sum to Genoa. 1 
 noticed that Mr. Moro s correspondent insisted on sending 
 the money to him, instead of to mv friends probably to 
 
APPROACH TO PISA. 345 
 
 make sure of the payment of the loan. On going down to 
 
 the wharf two days afterwards, I found F and B = 
 
 just stepping on shore from the steamboat, tired enough of 
 the discomforts of the voyage, yet anxious to set out for Flo 
 rence as soon as possible. After we had shaken off the crowd 
 of porters, pedlars and vetturini, and taken a hasty breakfast 
 at the Cafe Americano, we went to the Police Office to get 
 our passports, and had the satisfaction of paying two francs 
 for permission to proceed to Florence. The weather had 
 changed since the preceding day, and the sirocco-wind 
 which blows over from the coast of Africa, filled the streets 
 with clouds of dust, which made walking very unpleasant 
 The clear blue sky had vanished, and a leaden cloud hung 
 low on the Mediterranean, hiding the shores of Corsica and 
 the rocky isles of Gorgona and Capraja. 
 
 The country between Leghorn and Pisa is a flat marsh, 
 intersected in several places by canals to carry off the stag 
 nant water which renders this district so unhealthy. The 
 entire plain between the mountains of Carrara and the hills 
 back of Leghorn has been gradually formed by the deposits 
 of the Arno and the receding of the Mediterranean, which 
 is so shallow along the whole coast, that large vessels have to 
 anchor several miles out. As we approached Pisa over the 
 level marsh, I could see the dome of the Cathedral and the 
 Leaning Tower rising above the gardens and groves which 
 surround the city. 
 
 Our baggago underwent another examination at the gate, 
 where we were again assailed by the vetturini, one of whom 
 hung on us like a leech until we reached a hotel, and there 
 was finally no way of shaking him off except by engaging 
 
 15* 
 
346 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 him to take -as to Florence. The bargain having been con 
 eluded, we had still a few hours left, and set off to hunt the 
 Cathedral. We found it on an open square near the outer 
 wall, and quite remote from the main part of the town. 
 Emerging from the narrow and winding street, one takes in 
 at a glance the Baptistery, the Campo Santo, the noble Cathe 
 dral and the Leaning Tower forming altogether a view 
 rarely surpassed in Europe for architectural effect. But the 
 square is melancholy and deserted, and rank, untrampled 
 grass fills the crevices of its marble pavement. 
 
 I was surprised at the beauty of the Leaning Tower. 
 Instead of an old, black, crumbling fabric, as I always supposed, 
 it is a light, airy, elegant structure, of white marble, and its 
 declension, which is interesting as a work of art (or accident), 
 is at the same time pleasing from its novelty. There have 
 been many conjectures as to the cause of this deviation, 
 which is upwards of fourteen feet from the perpendicular ; 
 but it is new generally believed that the earth having siink 
 when the building was half finished, it was continued by 
 the architects at the same angle. The upper gallery, which 
 is smaller than the others, shows a very perceptible inclina 
 tion back towards the perpendicular, as if in some degree 
 to counterbalance their deviation. There are eight galleries 
 in all, supported by marble pillars, but the inside of the 
 Tower is hollow to the very top. 
 
 We ascended by the same stairs which were trodden so 
 often by Galileo in going up to make his astronomical ob 
 servations. In climbing spirally around the hollow cylinder 
 in the dark, it was easy to tell on which side of the Tower 
 we were, from the proportionate steepness of the staircase. 
 
THE ECHO IN THE BAPTISTERY. 347 
 
 There is a fine view from the top, embracing the whole 
 plain as far as Leghorn on one side, with its gardens and 
 grain fields spread out like a vast map. In a valley of the 
 Carrarese Mountains to the north, we could see the little 
 town of Lucca, much frequented at this season on account 
 of its baths ; the blue summits of the Appenines shut in the 
 view to the east. In walking through the city I noticed 
 two other towers, which had nearly as great a deviation 
 from the perpendicular. We met a person who had the key 
 of the Baptistery, which he opened for us. Two ancient 
 columns covered with rich sculpture form the doorway, and 
 the dome is supported by massive pillars of the red marble 
 of Elba. The baptismal font is of the purest Parian mar 
 ble. The most remarkable thing was the celebrated musical 
 echo. Our cicerone stationed himself at the side of the font 
 and sang a few notes. After a moment s pause they were 
 repeated aloft in the dome, but with a sound of divine sweet 
 ness as clear and pure as the clang of a crystal bell. 
 Another pause and WG heard them again, higher, fainter 
 and sweeter, followed by a dying note, as if they were fad 
 ing far away into heaven. It seemed as if an angel lingered 
 in the temple, echoing with his melodious lips the common 
 harmonies of earth. 
 
 The Campo Santo, on the north side of the Cathedral, 
 was, until lately, the cemetery of the city ; the space in 
 closed within its marble galleries is filled to the depth of 
 eight or ten feet, with earth from the Holy Land. The ves 
 sels which carried the knights of Tuscany to Palestine were 
 filled at Joppa before returning, with this earth as ballast, 
 and on arriving at Pisa it was deposited in the Cemetery 
 
348 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 It has a peculiar property of decomposing all human bodies 
 in a very short time. A colonnade of marble incloses it, 
 with windows of exquisite sculpture opening on the inside, 
 At each end are two fine, green cypresses, which thrive re 
 markably in the soil of Palestine. The dust of a German 
 emperor, among others, rests in this consecrated ground. 
 There are other fine churches in Pisa, but the four build 
 ings I have mentioned, are the principal objects of inter 
 est. The tower where Count Ugolino and his sons were 
 starved to death by the citizens of Pisa, who locked them 
 up and threw the keys into the Arno, has lately been 
 destroyed. 
 
 An Italian gentleman having made a bargain in the 
 meantime with our vetturino, we found every thing ready 
 on returning to the hotel. On the outside of the town we 
 mounted into the vehicle, a rickety-looking concern, and as 
 it commenced raining, I was afraid we would have a bad 
 night of it. After a great deal of bargaining, the vetturino 
 agreed to take us to Florence that night for five francs 
 apiece, provided one person would sit on the outside with 
 the driver. I accordingly mounted in front protected by a 
 blouse and umbrella, for it was beginning to rain dismally. 
 The miserable, bare-boned horses were fastened with rope- 
 traces, and the vetturino having taken the rope-lmes in his 
 hand, gave i flourish with his whip ; one old horse tumbled 
 nearly to the ground, but he jerked him up again and we 
 rattled off. 
 
 After riding ten miles in this way, it became so wet and 
 dreary, that I was fain to give the driver two francs extr^ 
 for the privilege of an inside seat. Our Italian companion 
 
NIGHT-JOURNEY IN THE RAIN. 349 
 
 was agreeable and talkative, but as we were still ignorant 
 of the language, I managed to hold a scanty conversation 
 with him in French. He seemed delighted to learn that we 
 were from America ; his polite reserve gave place to a 
 friendly familiarity, and he was loud in his praises of the 
 Americans. I asked him why it was that he and the Italians 
 generally were so friendly towards us. " I hardly know," 
 he answered ; " you are so different from any other nation ; 
 and then, too, you have so much sincerity." 
 
 The Appenines were wreathed and hidden in thick mist, 
 and the prospect over the flat cornfields bordering the road 
 was not particularly interesting. We had made about one- 
 third of the way as night set in, when on ascending a hill 
 
 soon after dark, F happened to look out, and saw one 
 
 of the axles bent and nearly broken off. We were obliged 
 to get out and walk through the mud to the next village, 
 when, after two hours delay, the vetturino came along with 
 another carriage. Of the rest of the way to Florence, I 
 cannot say much. Cooped up in the narrow vehicle, we 
 jolted along in the dark, rumbling now and then through 
 some silent village, where lamps were burning before the 
 solitary shrines. Sometimes a blinding light crossed the 
 road, where we saw the tile-makers sitting in the red glare 
 of their kilns, and often the black boughs of trees were 
 painted momentarily on the cloudy sky. If the jolting 
 carriage had even permitted sleep, the horrid cries of the 
 vetturino, urging on his horses, would have prevented it ; 
 and I decided, while trying to relieve my aching limbs, that 
 three days walking in sun and sand was preferable to one 
 night of such travel. 
 
350 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Finally about four o clock in the morning the carriage 
 stopped ; my Italian friend awoke and demanded the cause. 
 " Signor," said the vetturino, " we are in Florence ! " I 
 blessed the man, and the city too. The good-humored 
 officer looked at our passports and passed cur baggage without 
 examination ; we gave the gatekeeper a paul and he ad 
 mitted us. The carriage rolled through the dark, silent 
 streets passed a public square came out on the Arno 
 crossed and entered the city again and finally stopped at a 
 hotel. The master of the "Lione Bianco " came down in 
 an undress to receive us, and we shut the growing dawn out 
 of our rooms to steal that repose from the day which the 
 night had not given. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN FLORENCE. 
 
 Rooms in Florence Cost of Living The Royal Gallery The Venus de Medici* 
 Titian and Raphael Michael Angelo The Hall of Niobe Value of Art to Italy 
 A Walk to Fiesole View of Val d Arno Ancient Roman Theatre Etruscan 
 Walls The Tombs of Santa Croce The Pitti Palace Titian s " Bella" The Ma 
 donna della Sedia Michael Angelo s "Fates" The Boboli Gardens Royal and 
 Republican Children. 
 
 FLORENCE, September, 1845. 
 
 ON the day after our arrival here we met an American at 
 the table d hote of the Lione Bianco, who was kind enough 
 to assist us in procuring rooms, and in twenty -four hours we 
 were comfortably and permanently installed in Florence. 
 We have taken three large and tolerably well furnished 
 rooms in the house of Signor Lazzeri, a wealthy goldsmith, 
 in the Via Vacchereccia, for which we pay ten scudi per 
 month a scudo being a trifle more than an American dollar. 
 This includes lights, and the attendance of servants, to 
 whom, however, we are expected to give an occasional 
 gratuity. We live at the Caffe< and Trnttorie very readily 
 for about twenty-five cents a day, so that our expenses will 
 
352 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 not exceed twelve dollars a month, each. For our dinners at 
 the Trattoria del Cacciatore we pay about fourteen cents, 
 and are furnished with soup, three or four dishes of meat 
 and vegetables, fruit and a bottle of wine ! These dinners 
 are made exceedingly pleasant and cheerful by the society 
 of several American artists whose acquaintance we have 
 made. Another countryman, Mr. Tandy, of Kentucky, 
 occupies a room in the same building with us, and will make 
 our trio complete after the departure of my cousin, who will 
 
 leave shortly for Heidelberg. B and I are so charmed 
 
 with the place and the beautiful Tuscan dialect, that we 
 shall endeavor to spend three or four months here and master 
 the language, before proceeding further. 
 
 Our first walk in Florence was to the Royal Gallery. 
 Crossing the neighboring Piazza del Granduca, we passed 
 Michael Angelo s colossal statue of David, and an open gal 
 lery containing, besides some antiques, the master-piece of 
 John of Bologna. The palace of the Ujfizii, fronting on 
 the Arno, extends along both sides of an avenue running 
 back to the Palazzo Vecchio. We entered the portico 
 which passes around under the great building, and after 
 ascending three or four flights of steps, came into a long hall, 
 filled with paintings and ancient statuary. Towards the 
 end of this, a door opened into the Tribune that celebrated 
 room, unsurpassed by any in the world for the number and 
 value of the gems it contains. I pushed aside a crimson 
 curtain and stood in the presence of the Venus de Medici. 
 
 It may be considered heresy, but I confess I did not go 
 into raptures, nor at first perceive any traces of superhuman 
 "beauty. The predominant feeling was satisfaction ; the eye 
 
TITIAN AND RAPHAEL. 353 
 
 dwells on its exquisite outline with a gratified sense, that 
 nothing is wanting to render it perfect. It is the ideal of a 
 woman s form a faultless standard by which all beauty may 
 be measured, but without marked expression, except in the 
 modest and graceful position of the limbs. The face, though 
 regular, is not handsome, and the body appears small, being 
 but fire feet in height, which, I think, is a little below the 
 average stature of women. On each side, as if to heighten 
 its elegance by contrast with rude and vigorous nature, are 
 the statues of the Wrestlers, and the slave listening to the 
 conspiracy of Catiline, called also The Whetter. 
 
 As if to correspond with the value of the works it holds, 
 the Tribune is paved with precious marbles and the ceiling 
 studded with polished mother-of-pearl. A dim and subdued 
 light fills the hall, and throws over the mind that half- 
 dreamy tone necessary to the full enjoyment of such objects. 
 On each side of the Venus de Medici hangs a Venus by 
 Titian, the size of life, and painted in that rich and gorgeous 
 style of coloring which has been so often and vainly attempt 
 ed since his time. Here also are six of Raphael s best pre 
 served paintings. I prefer the " St. John in the Desert" to 
 any other picture in the Tribune. His glorious form, in the 
 fair proportions of ripening boyhood the grace of his atti 
 tude, with the arm lifted eloquently on high the divine 
 inspiration which illumines his young features chain the 
 step irresistibly before it. It is one of those triumphs of the 
 pencil which few but Raphael have accomplished. 
 
 The " Drunken Bacchus" of Michael Angelo is greatly 
 admired, and indeed it might pass for a relic of the palmiest 
 times of Grecian art. The face, amidst its half-vacant, 
 
354 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sensual expression, shows traces of its immortal origin, and 
 there is still an a ! r of dignity preserved in the swagger of 
 his beautiful form. At one end of the gallery is a fine copy 
 in marble of the Laocoon, by Bandinelli, one of the rivals 
 of Michael Angelo. When it was finished, the former boast 
 ed it was better than the original, to which Michael made 
 the apt reply : " It is foolish for those who walk in the foot 
 steps of others, to say they go before them !" 
 
 Let us enter the hall of Niobe. One starts back on seeing 
 the many figures in the attitude of flight, for they seem at 
 first about to spring from their pedestals. At the head of 
 the room stands the afflicted mother, bending over the 
 youngest daughter, who clings to her knees, with an upturn 
 ed countenance of deep and imploring agony. In vain ! 
 the shafts of Apollo fall thick, and she will soon be childless. 
 No wonder the strength of that woe depicted on her counte 
 nance should change her into stone. One of her sons a 
 beautiful, boyish form, is lying on his back, just expiring, 
 with the chill languor of death creeping over his limbs. We 
 seem to hear the quick whistling of the arrows, and look 
 involuntarily into the air to see the hovering figure of the 
 avenging god. In a chamber near is kept the head of a 
 faun, made by Michael Angelo, at the age of fourteen, in 
 the garden of Lorenzo de Medici, from a piece of marble 
 given him by the workmen. 
 
 Italy still remains the home of Art, and it is but just she 
 should keep these treasures, though the age that brought 
 them forth has passed away. They are her only support 
 now ; her people are dependent for their subsistence on the 
 glory of the Past. The spirits of the old painters, living 
 
VALUE OK ART TO ITALY. 355 
 
 still on their canvas, earn from year to year the bread of 
 an indigent and oppressed people. This ought to silence 
 those utilitarians at home, who oppose the cultivation of the 
 fine arts, on the ground of their being useless luxuries. Let 
 them look to Italy, where a picture by Raphael or Correggio 
 is a rich legacy for a whole city. Nothing is useless that 
 gratifies that perception of Beauty, which is at once the most 
 delicate and the most intense of our mental sensations, bind 
 ing us by an unconscious link nearer to nature and to Him, 
 whose every thought is born of Beauty, Truth and Love. I 
 envy not the man who looks with a cold and indifferent 
 spirit on these immortal creations of the old masters these 
 poems written in marble and on the canvas. They who 
 oppose every thing which can refine and spiritualize the 
 nature of man, by binding him down to the cares of the 
 work-day world alone, cheat life of half its glory. 
 
 The sky was clear and blue, as it always is in this Italian 
 paradise, when we left Florence a few days ago for Fiesole. 
 We passed the Porta San Gallo, with its triumphal arch to 
 the Emperor Francis, striding the road to Bologna, and 
 took the way to Fiesole along the dried-up bed of a mountain 
 torrent. The dwellings of the Florentine nobility occupy the 
 whole slope, surrounded with rich and lovely gardens. The 
 mountain and plain are covered with luxuriant olive or 
 chards, whose foliage of silver gray gives the scene the look 
 of a moonlight landscape. At the base of the mountain of 
 Fiesole we passed one of the summer palaces of Lorenzo the 
 Magnificent, and a little distance beyond, took a foot-path 
 overshadowed by magnificent cypresses, between whose 
 
356 VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 dark trunks we looked down on the lovely Val d Arno. But 
 I will reserve all description of the view until we arrive a/ 
 the summit. 
 
 The modern village of Fiesole occupies the site of an 
 ancient city, generally supposed to be of Etrurian origin. 
 Just above, on one of the peaks of the mountain, stands the 
 Acropolis, formerly used as a fortress, but now untenanted 
 save by a few monks. From its walls, beneath the shade of 
 a few cypresses, there is a magnificent view of the whole of 
 Val d Arno, with Florence the gem of Italy in the cen 
 tre. Stand with me a moment on the height, and let us 
 gaze on this grand panorama, around which the Apennines 
 stretch with a majestic sweep, wrapped in a robe of purple air, 
 through which shimmer the villas and villages on their sides ! 
 The lovely vale lies below us in its garb of olive groves, 
 among which beautiful villas are sprinkled as plentifully as 
 white anemones in the woods of May. Florence is in front 
 of us, the magnificent cupola of the Duomo crowning its 
 clustered palaces. We see the airy tower of the Palazzo 
 Vecchio the new spire of Santa Croce and the long front of 
 the Palazzo Pitti, with the dark foliage of the Boboli Gardens 
 behind. Beyond, far to the south, are the summits of the 
 mountains near Siena. We can trace the sandy bed of the 
 Arno down the valley until it disappears at the foot of the 
 Lower Appenines, which mingle in the distance with the 
 mountains of Carrara. 
 
 Galileo was wont to make observations " at evening from 
 the top of Fiesole," and the square tower of the old church 
 JR still pointed out as the spot. Many a right did he ascend 
 
ANCIENT ROMAN THEATRE. 357 
 
 to its projecting terrace, arid watch the stars as they rolled 
 around through the clearest heaven to which a philosopher 
 ever looked up. 
 
 We passed through an orchard of fig trees, and vines 
 laden with beautiful purple and golden clusters, and in a few 
 minutes reached the remains of an amphitheatre, in a little 
 nook on the mountain side. This was a work of Roman 
 construction, as its form indicates. Three or four ranges of 
 seats alone are laid bare, and these have only been dis 
 covered within a few years. A few steps further we came 
 to a sort of cavern, overhung with wild fig-trees. After 
 creeping in at the entrance, we found ourselves in an oval 
 chamber, tall enough to admit of our standing upright, and 
 rudely but very strongly built. This was one of the dens 
 in which the wild beasts were kept ; they were fed by a 
 hole in the top, now closed up. This cell communicates 
 with four or five others, by apertures broken in the walls. I 
 stepped into one, and could see in the dim light, that it was 
 exactly similar to the first, and opened into another beyond. 
 
 Further down the mountain we found the ancient wall of 
 the city, without doubt of Etrurian origin. It is of immense 
 blocks of stone, and extends more or less dilapidated around 
 the whole brow of the mountain. In one place there stands 
 a solitary gateway, of large stones, which appears to have 
 been one of the first attempts at using the principle of the 
 arch. These ruins are all gray and ivied, and it startles 
 one to think what a history the Earth has lived through, 
 since their foundations were laid ! 
 
 One of my first visits was to the church of Santa Croce. 
 This is one of the oldest in Florence, venerated alike by 
 
358 
 
 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 foreigners and citizens, for the illustrious dead whose 
 remains it holds. It is a plain, gloomy pile, the front of 
 which is still unfinished, though at the base one sees that it 
 was originally designed to be covered with black marble. 
 On entering the door we first saw the tomb of Michael 
 Angelo. Around the marble sarcophagus which contains 
 his ashes are three mourning figures, representing Sculpture, 
 Painting, and Architecture, and his bust stands above a 
 rough, stern countenance, like a man of vast but impatient 
 mind. Further on are the tombs of Alfieri and Machiavelli, 
 and the colossal cenotaph lately erected to Dante. Opposite 
 reposes Galileo. What a world of renown in these few 
 names ! It makes one venerate the majesty of his race, to 
 stand beside the dust of such lofty spirits. 
 
 In that part of the city, which lies on the south bank of 
 the Anio. is the palace of the Grand Duke, known by the 
 name of the Palazzo Pitti, from a Florentine noble of that 
 name, by whom it was first built. It is a very large, impos 
 ing pile, preserving an air of lightness in spite of the rough, 
 heavy masonrv. It is another example of a magnificent 
 failure. The Marquis Strozzi, having built a palace which 
 was universally admired for its beauty, (which stands yet, a 
 model of chaste and massive elegance,) his rival, the Marquis 
 Pitti, made the proud boast that he would build a palace, in 
 the court-yard of which could be placed that of Strozzi. 
 These are actually the dimensions of the court -yard ; but in 
 building the palace, although he was liberally assisted by the 
 Florentine people, he ruined himself, and his magnificent 
 residence passed into other hands, while that of Strozzi is 
 inhabited by his descendants to this very day. 
 
GALLERY OF THE P1TTI PALACE. 359 
 
 The gallery of the Palazzo Pitti is one of the finest in 
 Europe. It contains six or seven hundred paintings, select 
 ed from the best works of the Italian masters. By the 
 praiseworthy liberality of the Duke, they are open to the 
 public, six hours every day, and the rooms are thronged 
 with artists of all nations. Among Titian s works, there is 
 his celebrated "Bella," a half-length figure of a young wo 
 man. It is a masterpiece of warm and brilliant coloring, 
 without any decided expression. The countenance is that 
 of vague, undefined thought, as of one who knew as yet 
 nothing of the realities of life. In another room is his 
 Magdalen, a large, voluptuous form, with her brown hair 
 falling like a veil over her shoulders and breast, but in 
 her upturned countenance one can sooner read a prayer 
 for an absent lover than repentance for sins she has com 
 mitted. 
 
 What could excel in beauty the Madonna della Sedia of 
 Raphael ? It is another of those works of that divine artist, 
 on which we gaze and gaze with a never-satisfied enjoyment 
 of its angelic loveliness. Like his unrivalled Madonna in the 
 Dresden Gallery, its beauty is spiritual as well as earthly ; 
 and while gazing on the glorious countenance of the Jesus- 
 child, I feel an impulse I can scarcely explain a longing 
 to tear it from the canvas as if it were a breathing form, and 
 clasp it to my heart in a glow of passionate love. 
 
 There is a small group of the " Fates," by Michael Angelo, 
 which is one of the best of the few pictures that remain of 
 him. As is well known, he disliked the art, saying it was 
 only fit for women. This picture shows, however, how much 
 he might have done for it, had he been so inclined. The 
 
360 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 three weird sisters are ghostly and awful the further one 
 holding the distaff, almost frightful. She who stands ready 
 to cut the thread as it is spun out, has a slight trace of pity on 
 her fixed and unearthly lineaments. It is a faithful embodi 
 ment of the old Greek idea of the Fates. I have wondered 
 why some artist has not attempted the subject in a different 
 way. In the Northern Mythology they are represented as 
 wild maidens, armed with swords and mounted on fiery cour 
 sers. Why might they not also be pictured as angels, with 
 countenances of a sublime and mysterious beauty one all 
 radiant with hope and promise of glory, and one with the 
 token of a better future mingled with the sadness with which 
 she severs the links of life ? 
 
 Occupying all the hill back of the Pitti Palace, are the 
 Boboli Gardens, three times a week the great resort of the 
 Florentines. They are said to be the most beautiful gar 
 dens in Italy. Numberless paths, diverging from a magni 
 ficent amphitheatre in the old Roman style, opposite the 
 court-yard, lead either in long flights of steps and ter 
 races, or gentle windings among beds sweet with roses, to 
 the summit. Long avenues entirely arched and embowered 
 with the thick foliage of the laurel, which here grows to a 
 tree, stretch along the slopes or wind in the woods through 
 thickets of the fragrant bay. Parterres, rich with flowers and 
 shrubbery, alternate with delightful groves of the Italian 
 pine, acacia, and the laurel-leaved oak ; and along the hill 
 side, gleaming among the foliage, are placed statues of 
 marble, some of which are from the chisels of Michael 
 Angelo and Bandinelli. In one part there is a little sheet 
 of water, with an island of orange-trees in the centre, from 
 
ROYAL AND REPUBLICAN CHILDREN. 361 
 
 which a broad avenue of cypresses and statues leads to the 
 very summit of the hill. 
 
 We often go there to watch the sun set over Florence 
 and the vale of the Arno. The palace lies directly below, 
 and a clump of pine trees on the hillside, that stand out in 
 bold relief on the glowing sky, makes the foreground to one 
 of the loveliest pictures this side of the Atlantic. I saw one 
 afternoon the Grand Duke and his family get into their 
 carriage to drive out. One of the little dukes, who seemed 
 a mischievous imp, ran out on a projection of the portico, 
 where considerable persuasion had to be used to induce him 
 to jump into the arms of his royal papa. I turned from 
 these titled infants to watch a group of beautiful American 
 children playing, for my attention was drawn to them by 
 the sound of familiar words, and I learned afterwards they 
 were the children of the sculptor Powers. I contrasted 
 involuntarily the destinies of each ; one to the enjoyment 
 and proud energy of freedom, and one to the confining and 
 vitiating atmosphere of a court. The merry voices of the 
 latter, as they played on the grass, came to my ears most 
 gratefully. There is nothing so sweet as to hear one s 
 native tongue in a foreign land from the lips of children ! 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE TO VALLOMBROSA. 
 
 A Pilgrimage to Vallombrosa The Valley of the ArnoEain Tuscan Peasants 
 Pellago Associations Climbing the Mountain Pastoral Scenery Monastic 
 Wealth Arrival at Vallombrosa An Italian Panorama The Paradisino An 
 Escape from the Devil A Capture by the Devil The Chapel Milton in Italy- 
 Departure from Vallombrosa Evening on the Mountain Side The Charms ol 
 Italy. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE to Vallombrosa ! in sooth it has a romantic 
 sound. The phrase calls up images of rosaries, and crosses, 
 and shaven-headed friars. Had we lived in the olden days, 
 such things might verily have accompanied our journey to 
 that holy monastery. We might then have gone barefoot, 
 snying prayers as we toiled along the banks of the Arno 
 and up the steep Appenines, as did Benvenuto Cellini, be 
 fore he poured the melted bronze into the mould of his 
 immortal Perseus. But we are pilgrims to the shrines of 
 Art and Genius; the dwelling-places of great minds are our 
 sanctuaries. The mean dwelling, in which a poet has bat- 
 Ted down poverty with the ecstasy of his lofty conceptions, 
 and t .o clnngcon ia wl.ich <\ persecuted philosopher has 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE ARNO. 363 
 
 languished, are to us sacred ; we turn aside from the palaces 
 of kings and the battle-fields of conquerors, to visit them. 
 The famed miracles of San Giovanni Gualberto added little, 
 in our eyes, to the interest of Vallombrosa, but there was 
 reverence and inspiration in the names of Dante, Milton, and 
 Ariosto. 
 
 We left Florence early, taking the way that leads from 
 the Porta della Croce, up the north bank of the Arno. It 
 was a bright morning, but there was a shade of vapor on the 
 hills, which a practised eye might have taken as a prognostic 
 of the rain that too soon came on. Fiesole, with its tower 
 and Acropolis, stood out brightly from the blue background, 
 and the hill of San Miniato lay with its cypress groves in 
 the softest morning light. The Contadini were driving into 
 the city in their basket wagons, and there were some fair 
 young faces among them, which made us think that Italian 
 beauty is not altogether in the imagination. 
 
 After walking three or four miles, we entered the Appe- 
 nines, keeping along the bank of the Arno, whose bed is 
 more than half dried up from the long summer heats. The 
 mountain sides were covered with vineyards, glowing with 
 their wealth of white and purple grapes, but the summits 
 were naked and barren. We passed through the little town 
 of Ponte Sieve, at the entrance of a romantic valley, where 
 our view of the Arno was made more interesting by the 
 lofty range of the Appenines, amid whose forests we could 
 soo the white front of the monastery of Vallombrosa. But 
 the clouds sank low and hid it from sight, and the rain came 
 on so hard that wo wore obliged to take shelter occasionally 
 in the, cottages by the wayside. In one of these wo made 
 
3C4 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 a dinner of the hard, black bread of the country, rendered 
 palatable by the addition of mountain cheese and some chips 
 of an antique Bologna sausage. We were much amused in 
 conversing with the simple hosts and their shy, gipsy -like 
 children, one of whom, a dark-eyed, curly-haired boy, bore 
 the name of Raphael. We also became acquainted with a 
 shoemaker and his family, who owned a little olive orchard 
 and vineyard, which they said produced enough to support 
 them. Wishing to know how much a family of six consum 
 ed in a year, we inquired the yield of their property. They 
 answered, twenty small barrels of wine, and ten of oil. It 
 was nearly sunset when we reached Pellago, and the wet 
 walk and coarse fare we were obliged to take on the road, 
 well qualified us to enjoy the excellent supper the pleasant 
 landlady gave us. 
 
 This little town is among the Appenines, at the foot of the 
 magnificent mountain of Vallombrosa. What a blessing it 
 was for Milton, that he saw its loveliness before his eyes 
 closed on this beautiful earth, and gained from it another hue 
 in which to dip his pencil, when he painted the bliss of 
 Eden ! I watched the hills all day as we approached them, 
 and thought how often his eyes had rested on their out 
 lines, and how he had carried their forms in his memory for 
 many a sunless year. The banished Dante, too, had trod 
 den them, flying from his ungrateful country ; and man^ 
 another, whose genius has made him a beacon in the dark 
 sea of the world s history. It is one of those places where 
 the enjoyment is all romance, and the blood thrills as we 
 gaze upon it. 
 
 We started early next morning, crossed the ravine, and 
 
PASTORAL SCENERY. 365 
 
 took the well-paved way to the monastery along the moim- 
 tain side. The stones are worn smooth by the sleds in 
 which ladies and provisions are conveyed up, drawn by the 
 beautiful white Tuscan oxen. The hills are covered with 
 luxuriant chestnut and oak trees, of those picturesque forms 
 which they only wear in Italy : one wild dell in particular 
 is much resorted to by painters for the ready-made fore- 
 giounds it supplies. Further on, we passed the Puterno, 
 a rich farm belonging to the Monks. The vines which hung 
 from tree to tree, were almost breaking beneath clusters as 
 heavy and rich as those which the children of Israel bore 
 on staves from the Promised Land. Of their flavor, we can 
 Bay, from experience, they were worthy to have grown in 
 Paradise. We then entered a deep dell of the mountain, 
 where little shepherd girls were sitting on the rocks tending 
 their sheep and spinning with their fingers from a distaff, in 
 the same manner, doubtless, as the Roman shepherdesses 
 two thousand years ago. Gnarled, gray olive trees, centu 
 ries old, grew upon the bare soil, and a little rill fell m many 
 a tiny cataract down the glen. By a mill, in one of the 
 coolest and wildest nooks I ever saw, two of us acted the 
 part of water-sprites under one of these, to the great 
 astonishment of four peasants who watched us from a dis 
 tance. 
 
 Beyond, our road led through forests of chestnut and oak, 
 and a broad view of mountain and vale lay below us. We 
 asked a peasant boy we met, how much land the Monks of 
 Vallombrosa possessed. " All that you see !" was the re 
 ply. The dominion of the good fathers reached once even 
 to the gates of Florence. At length, about noon, we emerged 
 
366 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 from the woods into a broad avenue leading across a lawn, 
 at the extremity of which stood the massive buildings of 
 the monastery. On a rock that towered above it, was 
 the Paradisino, beyond which rose the mountain, covered 
 with forests 
 
 " Shade above shade, a woody theatre 
 Of stateliest view." 
 
 We were met at the entrance by a young monk in cowl 
 and feassock, to whom we applied for permission to stay until 
 the next day, which was immediately given. Brother Pla- 
 cido (for that was his name) then asked us if we would not 
 have dinner. We replied that our appetites were none the 
 worse for climbing the mountain ; and in half an hour sat 
 down to a dinner, the like of which we had not seen for a 
 long time. Verily, thought I, it must be a pleasant thing to 
 be a monk, after all ! that is, a monk of Vallombrosa. 
 
 In the afternoon we walked through a grand pine forest 
 to the western brow of the mountain, where a view opened 
 which it would require a wonderful power of the imagina 
 tion for the reader to see in fancy, as I did in reality. From 
 the height where we stood, the view was uninterrupted to 
 the Mediterranean, a distance of more than seventy miles ; 
 a valley watered by a branch of the Arno swept far to the 
 east, to the mountains near the lake of Thrasymene ; north-* 
 westwards the hills of Carrara bordered the horizon ; and 
 the space between these wide points was filled with moun 
 tains and valleys, all steeped in that soft blue mist which 
 makes Italian landscapes more like heavenly visions than 
 realities. Florence was visible afar off, and the current of 
 
AN ESCAPE FROM THE DEVIL. 36*7 
 
 the Arno flashed in the sun. A cool and almost chilling 
 wind blew constantly over the mountain, although the 
 country below basked in summer heat. We lay on the 
 rocks, and let our souls luxuriate in the lovely scene until 
 near sunset. Brother Placido brought us supper in the 
 evening, with his ever-smiling countenance, and we soon 
 after went to our beds in the neat, plain chambers, to get 
 rid of the unpleasant coldness. 
 
 Next morning it was damp and misty, and thick clouds 
 rolled down the forests towards the convent. I set out for 
 the " Little Paradise," taking in my way the pretty cascade 
 which falls some fifty feet down the rocks. The building is 
 not now as it was when Milton lived there, having been 
 rebuilt within a short time. I found no one there, and 
 satisfied my curiosity by climbing over the wall and looking 
 in at the windows. A little chapel stands in the cleft of the 
 rock below, to mark the miraculous escape of St. John 
 Gualberto, founder of the monastery. Being one day very 
 closely pursued by the Devil, he took shelter under the 
 rock, which immediately became soft and admitted him into 
 it, while the fiend, unable to stop, was precipitated over the 
 steep. All this is related in a Latin inscription, and we saw 
 a large hollow in the rock near, which must have been 
 intended for the imprint left by his sacred person. 
 
 One of the monks told us another legend, concerning a 
 little chapel which stands alone on a wild part of the 
 mountain, above a rough pile of crags, called the " Peak of 
 the Devil." " In the time of San Giovanni Gualberto, the 
 holy founder of our order," said he, " there was a young 
 man, of a noble family in Florence, who was so moved by 
 
368 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the words of the saintly father, that he forsook the world, 
 wherein he had lived with great luxury and dissipation, and 
 became monk. But, after a time, being young and tempted 
 again by the pleasures he had renounced, he put off the 
 sacred garments. The holy San Giovanni warned him of 
 the terrible danger in which he stood ; and at length the 
 wicked young man returned. It was not a great while, 
 however, before he became dissatisfied, and in spite of all 
 holy counsel, did the same thing. But behold what hap 
 pened ! As he was walking along the peak where the 
 chapel stands, thinking nothing of his great crime, the deviJ 
 sprang suddenly from behind a rock, and catching the young 
 man in his arms, before he could escape, carried him with a 
 dreadful noise and a great red flame and smoke over the 
 precipice, so that he was never afterwards seen." 
 
 The church attached to the monastery is small, but very 
 solemn and venerable. I went several times to muse in its 
 still, gloomy aisle, and hear the murmuring chant of the 
 monks, who went through their exercises in some of the 
 chapels. At one time I saw them all, in long, black cas 
 socks, march in solemn order to the chapel of St. John 
 Gualberto, where they sang a deep chant, which to me had 
 something awful and sepulchral in it. Behind the high altar 
 I saw their black, carved chairs of polished oak, with pon 
 derous gilded foliants lying on the rails before them. The 
 attendant opened one of these, that we might see the manu 
 script notes, three or four centuries old, from which they sang. 
 
 We were much amused in looking through two or three 
 Italian books, which were lying in the travellers room. One 
 of these which our friend, Mr. Tandy, read, described the 
 
MILTON IN. ITALY. 369 
 
 miracles of the patron saint with an air of the most ridicu 
 lous solemnity. The other was a description of the Monas 
 tery, its foundation, history, etc. In mentioning its great 
 and far-spread renown, the author stated that even an Eng 
 lish poet, hy the name of Milton, had mentioned it in the 
 following lines, which I copied verbatim from the book ; 
 
 "Thick as autumnal scares that strow she brooks 
 In vallombrosa, whereth Etruian Jades 
 Stigh over orch d embrover 1" 
 
 We were so delighted with the place that we would have 
 stayed another day, but for fear of trespassing too much on 
 the lavish and unceasing hospitality of the good fathers. So 
 in the afternoon we shook hands with Brother Placido, and 
 turned our backs regretfully upon one of the loneliest and 
 loveliest spots of which earth can boast. The sky became 
 gradually clear as we descended, and the mist raised itself 
 from the distant mountains. We ran down through the 
 same chestnut groves, diverging a little to visit the village oi 
 Tosi, which is very picturesque when seen from a distance, but 
 extremely dirty to one passing through. I stopped in the 
 ravine below to take a sketch of the mill and bridge, and as 
 we sat, the line of golden sunlight rose higher on the moun 
 tains above. On walking down the shady side of this glen, 
 we were enraptured with the scenery. A brilliant yet mel 
 low glow lay over the whole opposing height, lighting up 
 the houses of Tosi and the white cottages, half seen among 
 the olives, while the mountain of Vallombrosa stretched far 
 heavenward like a sunny painting, with only a misty wreath 
 floating and waving around its summit. The glossy foliage 
 of the chestnuts was made still brighter by the warm light, 
 
 Ki* 
 
 aa^^ 
 
 H; 
 
 OF THE 
 
 1 1 XII \ICOO t TV 
 
370 ViEVVri A FOOT, 
 
 and the old olives softened down into a silvery gray, whose 
 contrast gave the landscape a character of the mellowest 
 beauty. As we wound out of the deep glen, the broad val 
 leys and ranges of the Appenines lay before us, forests, cas 
 tles, and villages steeped in the soft, vapory blue of the Ita 
 lian atmosphere, and the current of the Arno flashing like a 
 golden belt through the middle of the picture. 
 
 The sun was nearly down, and the mountains just below 
 him were of a deep purple hue, while those that ran out to 
 the eastward wore the most aerial shade of blue. A few 
 scattered clouds, floating above, soon put on the sunset robe 
 of orange, and a band of the same soft color encircled the 
 western horizon. It did not reach half way to the zenith, 
 however ; the sky above was blue, of such a depth and 
 transparency, that to gaze above was like looking into 
 eternity. Then how softly and soothingly the twilight came 
 on ! How deep a hush sank on the chestnut glades, broken 
 only by the song of the cicada, chirping its good-night carol ! 
 The mountains, too, how majestic they stood in their deep 
 purple outlines ! Sweet, sweet Italy ! I can feel now how 
 the soul may cling to thee, since thou canst thus gratify its 
 insatiable thirst for the Beautiful. Even thy plainest scene 
 is clothed in hues that seem borrowed of heaven ! In the 
 twilight, more radiant than light, and the stillness, more elo 
 quent than music, which sink down over the sunny beauty 
 of thy shores, there is a silent, intense poetry that stirs the 
 soul through all its impassioned depths. With warm, bliss 
 ful tears filling the eyes and a heart overflowing with its 
 own happy fancies, I wander in the solitude and calm of 
 such a time, and love thee as if I were a child of thy soil ! 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IT L O R E N O E EXCURSIONS AND INCIDENTS 
 
 A. Walk to Siena The Landlady The Inn at Querciola Siena and its Cathedral- 
 Parting from F The Grapes of Italy The Dome of the Duomo Climbing 
 
 In the Dark A Cathedral Scene Walk to Pratolino The Vintage The Colossus 
 of the Appenines The Grand Duke s Farm Degeneracy of the Modern Italians 
 The Joy of Travel The Races at the Cascine The Holy Places of Florence The 
 Anatomical Museum American Artists in Florence Progress of American Art- 
 Brown Kellogg Greenough Ives Mozier Powers The Statue of Eve The 
 Fisher Boy Ibraham Pasha in Florence Tuscan Winter Galileo s Tower Our 
 Financial Experiences Relief The Memory of Pleasure and Privation An Inci 
 dentBoat Voyage on the Arno Amateur Starvation The Ascent of Mont* 
 Morello The Chapel of the Medici A Farewell Meditation. 
 
 FLORENCE, October 22, 1845. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of September, my cousin, who was 
 anxious to reach Heidelberg before the commencement of 
 the winter term of the University, left Florence on foot for 
 Rome, whence he intended returning to Genoa by way of 
 Civita Vecchia. We accompanied him as far as Siena, forty 
 miles from here, and then returned to our old quarters and 
 the company of our friend, Mr. Tandy. The excursion was 
 very pleasant, and the more interesting because B and 
 
372 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 I intend taking the mountain road to Rome by way of 
 Perugia. 
 
 We dined the first day seventeen miles from Florence, at 
 Tavenella, where, for a meagre dinner, the hostess had the 
 assurance to ask us seven pauls. We told her we would 
 give but four and a half, and by assuming a decided manner, 
 with a respectful use of the word " Signora" she was per 
 suaded to be fully satisfied with the latter sum. From a 
 height near, we could see the mountains coasting the Medi 
 terranean, and shortly after, on descending a long hill, the 
 little town of Poggibonsi lay in the warm afternoon light, on 
 an eminence before us. It was soon passed with its dusky 
 towers, then Stagia looking desolate in its ruined and ivied 
 walls, and following the advice of a peasant, we stopped for 
 the night at the inn of Querciola. As we knew something 
 of Italian by this time, we thought it best to inquire the price 
 of lodging, before entering. The padrone asked if we meant 
 to take supper also. We answered in the affirmative ; " then," 
 said he, " you will pay half a paul (about five cents) apiece 
 for a bed." We passed under the swinging bunch of boughs, 
 which in Italy is the universal sign of an inn for the common 
 people, and entered the bare, smoky room appropriated to 
 travellers. A long table, with well-worn benches, was the 
 only furniture : we threw our knapsacks on one end of it 
 and sat down, amusing ourselves, while supper was preparing, 
 in looking at a number of grotesque charcoal drawings on 
 the wail, which the flaring light of our tall iron lamp reveal 
 ed to us. At length the hostess, a kindly-looking woman, 
 with a white handkerchief folded gracefully around her head, 
 brought us a dish of fried eggs, which, with the coarse black 
 
SIENA AND ITS CATHEDRAL. 373 
 
 bread of the peasants and a basket full of rich grapes, made 
 us an excellent supper. We slept on mattresses stuffed with 
 corn-husks, placed on square iron frames, which are the bed 
 steads most used in Italy. A brightly -painted caricature of 
 some saint, or rough crucifix, trimmed with bay -leaves, hung 
 at the head of each bed, and under their devout protection 
 we enjoyed a safe and unbroken slumber. 
 
 Next morning we set out early to complete the remaining 
 ten miles to Siena. The only thing of interest on the road, 
 is the ruined wall and battlements of Castiglione, circling a 
 high hill and looking as old as the days of Etruria. The 
 towers of Siena are seen at some distance, but the traveller 
 does not perceive its romantic situation until he arrives. It 
 stands on a double hill, which is very steep on some sides ; 
 the hollow between the two peaks is occupied by the great 
 public square, ten or fifteen feet lower than the rest of the 
 city. We left our knapsacks at a cafe and sought the cele 
 brated Cathedral, which stands in the highest part of the 
 town, forming with its flat dome and lofty marble tower, an 
 apex to the pyramidal mass of buildings. 
 
 The interior is rich and elegantly perfect. The walls are 
 alternate bands of black and white marble, which has a sin 
 gular but agreeable effect. The inside of the dome and the 
 vaulted ceilings of the chapels, are of blue, with golden 
 stars ; the pavement in the centre is so precious a work that 
 it is kept covered with boards and only shown once a year. 
 In an adjoining chamber, with frescoed walls and a beautiful 
 tesselated pavement, is the library, consisting of a few huge 
 old volumes, which, with their brown covers and brazen 
 clasps, look as much like a collection of flat leather trunks 
 
374 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 as any thing else. In the centre of the room stands tta 
 mutilated group of the Grecian Graces, found in digging the 
 foundation of the Cathedral. The figures are still beautiful 
 and graceful, with that exquisite curve of outline which is such 
 a charm in the antique statues Canova has only perfected 
 the idea in his celebrated group, which is nearly a copy of 
 this. 
 
 We strolled through the square and then accompanied 
 
 F to the Roman gate, where we took leave of him for 
 
 six months at least. He felt lonely at the thought of walking 
 in Italy without a companion, but was cheered by the antici 
 pation of soon reaching Rome. We watched him awhile, 
 walking rapidly over the hot plain towards Radicofani, and 
 then, turning our faces towards Florence, we commenced 
 the return walk. I must not forget to mention the delicious 
 grapes which we bought, begged and stole on the way. 
 The w-hole country is a vineyard and the people live, in a 
 great measure, on the fruit during this part of the year. 
 Would the reader not think it highly romantic and agreeable 
 to sit in the shade of a cypress grove, beside some old 
 weather-beaten statues, looking out over the vales of the 
 Appenines, with a pile of white and purple grapes beside 
 him, the like of which can scarcely be had in America for 
 love or money, and which had been given him by a dark- 
 eyed peasant girl ? If so, he may envy us, for such was 
 exactly our situation on the morning before reaching Flo 
 rence. 
 
 Being in the Duomo, two or three days ago, I met a Ger 
 man traveller, who has walked through Italy thus far, and 
 intends continuing his journey to Rome and Naples. His 
 
THE DOME OF THE DUOMO. 375 
 
 name was Von Raumer. He was well acquainted with the 
 present state of America, and I derived much pleasure from 
 his intelligent conversation. We concluded to ascend the 
 cupola in company. Two black-robed boys led the way ; 
 after climbing an infinite number of steps, we reached the 
 gallery around the foot of the dome. The glorious view of 
 that paradise, the vale of the Arno, shut in on all sides by 
 mountains, some bare and desolate, some covered with villas, 
 gardens, and groves, lay in soft, hazy light, with the sha 
 dows of scattered clouds moving slowly across it. They 
 next took us to a gallery on the inside of the dome, where 
 we first saw the immensity of its structure. Only from a 
 distant view, or in ascending it, can one really measure its 
 grandeur. The frescoes, which from below appear the size 
 of life, are found to be rough and monstrous daubs ; each 
 figure being nearly as many fathoms in length as man is 
 feet. Continuing our ascent, we mounted between the in 
 side and outside shells of the dome. It was indeed a bold 
 idea for Brunelleschi to raise such a mass in air. The dome 
 of St. Peter s, which is scarcely as large, was not made 
 until a century after, and this was, therefore, the first attempt 
 at raising one on so grand a scale. 
 
 There was a small door in one of the projections of the 
 lantern, which the sacristan told us to enter and ascend still 
 higher. Supposing there was a fine view to be gained, two 
 priests, who had just come up, entered it ; the German fol 
 lowed, and I after him. After crawling in at the low door, 
 we found ourselves in a hollow pillar, little wider than our 
 bodies. Looking up, I saw the German s legs just above 
 my head, while the other two were above him, ascending by 
 
8*76 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 means of little iron bars fastened in the marble The priests 
 were very much amused, and the German said : " This is 
 the first time I ever learned chimney-sweeping !" We 
 emerged at length into a hollow cone, hot and dark, with a 
 rickety ladder going up somewhere ; we could not see where, 
 The old priest not wishing to trust himself to it, sent his 
 younger brother up, and we shouted after him : " What 
 kind of a view have you ?" He climbed up until the cone 
 got so narrow that he could go no further, and answered 
 back in the darkness : " I see nothing at all !" Shortly 
 after he came down, covered with dust and cobwebs, and we 
 all descended the chimney quicker than we went up. The 
 old priest considered it a good joke, and laughed till his fat 
 sides shook. We asked the sacristan why he sent us up, 
 and he answered : " To see the construction of the Church !" 
 I attended service in the Cathedral one dark, rainy morn 
 ing, and was never before so deeply impressed with the 
 majesty and grandeur of the mighty edifice. The thick, 
 cloudy atmosphere darkened still more the light which came 
 through the stained windows, and a solemn twilight reigned 
 in the long aisles. The mighty dome sprang far aloft, as if 
 it inclosed a part of heaven, for the light that straggled 
 through the windows around its base, lay in broad bars on 
 the blue, hazy air. I should not have been surprised at 
 seeing a cloud float along within it. The lofty burst of the 
 organ boomed echoing away through dome and nave, with 
 a chiming, metallic vibration, shaking the massive pillars 
 which it would defy an earthquake to rend. All was wrap 
 ped in dusky obscurity, except where, in the side-chapels, 
 crowns of tapers were burning around the images. One 
 
THE COLOSSUS OF THE AITENINES. 371 
 
 knows iiot which most to admire, the genius which could 
 conceive, or the perseverance which could accomplish such 
 a work. On one side of the square, the colossal statue of 
 the architect, glorious old Brunelleschi, is most appropriately 
 placed, looking up with pride at his performance. 
 
 We lately made an excursion to Pratolino, on the Appe- 
 nines, to see the, vintage and the celebrated colossus, by 
 John of Bologna. Leaving Florence in the morning, with 
 a cool, fresh wind blowing down from the mountains, we 
 began ascending by the road to Bologna. We passed Fiesole 
 with its tower and acropolis on the right, ascending slowly, 
 with the bold peak of one of the loftiest Appenines on our 
 left. The abundant fruit of the olive was beginning to turn 
 brown, and the grapes were all gathered in from the vine 
 yards, but we learned from a peasant-boy that the vintage 
 was not finished at Pratolino. 
 
 We finally arrived at an avenue shaded with sycamore?, 
 leading to the royal park. The vintagers were busy in the 
 fields around, unloading the vines of their purple tribute, 
 and many a laugh and jest among the merry peasants en 
 livened the toil. We assisted them in disposing of some fine 
 clusters, and then sought the " Colossus of the Appenines." 
 He stands above a little lake, at the head of a long moun 
 tain-slope, broken with clumps of magnificent trees. This 
 remarkable figure, the work of John of Bologna, impresses 
 one like a relic of the Titans. He is represented as half- 
 kneeling, supporting himself with one hand, while the other 
 is pressed upon the head of a dolphin, from which a little 
 stream falls into the lake. The height of the figure, when 
 erect, would amount to more than sixty feet ! We measured 
 
7- 
 
 one of the feet, which is a single piece of rock about eight feet 
 long; from the ground to the top of one knee is nearly twenty 
 feet. The limbs are formed of pieces of stone, joined toge 
 ther, and the body of stone and brick. His rough hair and 
 eyebrows, and the beard, which reaches nearly to the ground, 
 are formed of stalactites, taken from eaves, and fastened 
 together in a dripping and crusted mass. These hung also 
 from Ins limbs and body, and gave him the appearance of 
 Winter in his mail of icicles. By climbing up the rocks at 
 lot back, we entered his body, which contains a small-sized 
 room; it was even possible to ascend through his neck and 
 look out at his ear ! The face is in keeping with the figure 
 stern and grand* and the architect (one can hardly say 
 sculptor) has given to it the majestic air and sublimity of 
 the Appenines. But who* could build up an image of the Alp ? 
 We visited the factory on the estate, where wine and oil 
 are made. The men had just brought in a cart-load of large 
 wooden vessels, filled with grapes, which they were mashing 
 with heavy wooden pestles. When the grapes were ] 
 wefl reduced to pulp and juice, they emptied them into an 
 enormous ton, which they told us would be covered air-tight, 
 and left lor three or four weeks, after which the wine wonld 
 be drawn off at the bottom. They showed us also a great 
 stone mill for grinding olives ; this estate of the Grand 
 Duke produces five hundred barrels of wine and a hundred 
 and fifty of A every year. The former article is the 
 universal beverage of the laboring classes in Italy, or I 
 might say, of all classes ; it is, however, the pure blood of 
 the grape, and although used in such quantities, one sees 
 little drunkenness far less than in our own land. 
 
ITALIAN MORAIjS. 379 
 
 Although this sweet climate,, with its wealth of sunlight 
 and balmy airs, may enchant the traveller for awhile and 
 make him wish at times that his whole life might be spent 
 amid such scenes, it exercises a most enervating influence on 
 those who are born to its enjoyment. It relaxes mental and 
 physical energy, and disposes body and mind to dreamy 
 inactivity. The Italians, as a race, are indolent and effemi 
 nate. Of the moral dignity of human nature they have 
 little conception. Those classes who are engaged in active 
 occupation seem even destitute of common honesty, practis 
 ing all kinds of deceits in the most open manner and appa 
 rently without the least shame. The state of morals is low 
 er than in any other country of Europe : what little virtue 
 exists is found among the peasants. Many of the most 
 >acred obligations of society are universally violated, and as 
 a natural consequence, the people are almost entire strangers 
 to that domestic happiness, which constitutes the true enjoy 
 ment of life. 
 
 This dark shadow in the moral atmosphere of Italy haiurs 
 like a curse on her beautiful soil, weakening the sympathies 
 of citizens of freer lands with her fallen condition, \ 
 people can ever become truly great or free, who are not 
 virtuous. If the soul aspires for liberty pure and perfect 
 liberty it also aspires for everything that is noble in Truth, 
 everything that is holy in Virtue. It is greatly to be feared 
 that all those nervous and impatient etVorts which have been 
 made and are still being made by the Italian people to bet 
 ter their condition, will be 01 little avail, until they set up a 
 better standard of personal principle and improve the cha* 
 racter of their lives. 
 
380 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 I attended to-day tlie fall races at the Caserne. This is a 
 dairy farm of the Grand Duke on the Arno, below the city ; 
 part of it, shaded with magnificent trees, has been made into 
 a public promenade and drive, which extends for three miles 
 down the river. Towards the lower end, on a smooth green 
 lawn, is the race-course. To-day was the last of the season, 
 for which the best trials had been reserved. It was the very 
 perfection of autumn temperature, and I do not remember 
 to have ever seen so blue hills, so green meadows, so fresh 
 air and so bright sunshine combined in one scene before. 
 Travelling increases very much one s capacity for admira 
 tion. Every beautiful scene appears as beautiful as if it had 
 been the first ; and although I may have seen a hundred 
 times as lovely a combination of sky and landscape, the 
 pleasure which it awakens is never diminished. This is one 
 of the greatest blessings we enjoy the freshness and glory 
 which Nature wears to our eyes for ever. It shows that the 
 soul never grows old that the eye of age can take in the 
 impression of beauty with the same enthusiastic joy which 
 leaped through the heart of childhood. 
 
 We found the crowd around the race-course but thin ; 
 half the people there, and all the horses, appeared to be 
 English. It was a good place to observe the beauty of 
 Florence, which, however, may be seen in a short time, as 
 there is not much of it. There is beauty in Italy, undoubt 
 edly, but it is either among the peasants or the higher ranks 
 .if the nobility. I will tell our American women confiden 
 tially, for I know they have too much sense to be vain of it, 
 that they surpass the rest of the world as much in beauty as 
 they do in intelligence and virtue I saw in one of the 
 
RACES AT THE CASCINE. 381 
 
 carriages the wife of Alexander Dumas, the French author. 
 She is a large, fair-complexioned woman, and is now, from 
 what cause I know not, living apart from her husband. 
 
 The jockeys paced up and down the fields, preparing their 
 beautiful animals for the approaching heat, and as the hour 
 drew nigh the mounted dragoons busied themselves in clear 
 ing the space. It was a one-mile course, to the end of the 
 lawn and back. At last the bugle sounded, and off went 
 three steeds like arrows let fly. They passed us, their light 
 limbs bounding over the turf, a beautiful dark-brown taking 
 the lead. We leaned over the railing and watched them 
 eagerly. The bell rang they reached the other end we 
 saw them turn and come dashing back, nearer, nearer ; the 
 crowd began to shout, and in a few seconds the brown one 
 had won it by four or five lengths. The fortunate horse was 
 led around in triumph, and I saw an English lady, remark 
 able for her betting propensities, come out from the crowd 
 and kiss it in apparent delight. 
 
 Florence is fast becoming modernized. The introduction 
 of gas, and the construction of the railroad to Pisa, which is 
 nearly completed, will make sad havoc with the air of poe 
 try which still lingers in its silent streets. There is scarcely 
 a bridge, a tower, or a street, which is not haunted by some 
 stirring association. In the Via San Felice, Raphael used 
 to paint when a boy ; near the Ponte Santa Trinita stands 
 Michael Angelo s house, with his pictures, clothes, and paint 
 ing implements, just as he left it three centuries ago ; on the 
 south side of the Arno is the house of Galileo, and that of 
 Machiavelli stands in an avenue near the Ducal Palace. While 
 threading my way through some dark, crooked streets in 
 
382 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 an unfrequented part of the city, I noticed an old untenant- 
 ed house, bearing a marble tablet above the door. I drew 
 near and read : " In this house of the Alighieri was born 
 the Divine Poet !" It was the birth-place of Dante ! 
 
 We lately visited the Florentine Museum. Besides the 
 usual collection of objects of natural history, there is an 
 anatomical cabinet, very celebrated for its preparations in 
 wax. All parts of the human frame are represented so 
 wonderfully exact, that students of medicine pursue their 
 studies here in summer with the same facility as from real 
 subjects. Every bone, muscle, and nerve in the body is 
 perfectly counterfeited, the whole forming a collection as 
 curious as it is useful. One chamber is occupied with repre 
 sentations of the plague in Rome, Milan, and Florence. 
 They are executed with horrible truth to nature, but I re 
 gretted afterwards having seen them. There are enough 
 forms of beauty and delight in the world on which to em 
 ploy the eye, without making it familiar with scenes which 
 can only be remembered with a shudder. 
 
 We derive much pleasure from the society of the Ameri 
 can artists who are now residing in Florence. At the 
 houses of Powers, and Brown, the painter, we spend many 
 delightful evenings in the company of our gifted country* 
 men. " They are drawn together by a kindred, social feeling, 
 as well as by their mutual aims, and form among themselves 
 a society so unrestrained, American-like, that the traveller 
 who meets them forgets his exile for a time. These no 
 ble representatives of our country, all of whom possess the 
 true, inborn spirit of republicanism, have made the Ame 
 rican name known and respected in Florence. Powersi 
 
AMERICAN ARTISTS IN FLORENCE. 383 
 
 especially, who is intimate with many of the principal Ita 
 lian families, is universally esteemed. The Grand Duke has 
 more than once visited his studio and expressed the highest 
 admiration of his talents. 
 
 In Florence, and indeed through all Italy, there is much 
 reason for our country to be proud of the high stand her 
 artists are taking. The sons of our rude western clime, 
 brought up without other resources than their own genius 
 and energy, now fairly rival those, who from their cradle 
 upwards have drawn inspiration and ambition from the glo 
 rious masterpieces of the old painters and sculptors. 
 Wherever our artists are known, they never fail to create a 
 respect for American talent, and to dissipate the false notions 
 respecting our cultivation and refinement, which prevail in 
 Europe. There are now eight or ten of our painters, and 
 sculptors in Florence, some of whom, I do not hesitate to 
 say, take the very first rank among living artists. 
 
 I have been greatly delighted with the Italian landscapes 
 of Mr. George L. Brown ; they have that golden mellow 
 ness and transparency of atmosphere which gives such a 
 charm to the real scenes. He has wooed Nature like a 
 lover, and she has not withheld her favors. Mr. Kellogg, who 
 has just returned from the Orient, brought with him a rich 
 harvest of studies, which he is now maturing on the canvas. 
 His sketches are of great interest and value, and their re 
 sults will give him an enviable reputation. Greenough,who 
 has been some time in Germany, returned lately to his stu 
 dio, where he has a colossal group in progress for the por 
 tico of the Capitol. It represents a backwoodsman just 
 triumphing in the struggle with an Indian, and promises t 
 
584 VIEW8 A-FOOT 
 
 be a very powerful and successful work. Mr. Ives, a young 
 sculptor from Connecticut, has just completed the clay 
 models of two works a boy with a dead bird, charmingly 
 simple and natural, and a head of Jephthah s Daughter. 
 There are several other young countrymen here, just com 
 mencing their studies, who show all that enthusiasm and ex 
 travagance, without which there is no success in Art. 
 
 Mr. Mozier, an American gentleman, who has been resid 
 ing here for some time with his family, recently took a piece 
 of clay for pastime, and to the astonishment of his friends, 
 has now nearly completed an admirable bust of- his little 
 daughter. He has been so successful that he intends devot 
 ing himself to the art a devotion so rare, that it must surely 
 meet with some return. 
 
 Would it not be better for some scores of our rich mer 
 chants to lay out their money on statues and pictures, 
 instead of balls and spendthrift sons ? A few such expendi 
 tures, properly directed, would do much for the advancement 
 of the fine arts. An occasional golden blessing, bestowed 
 on genius, might be returned to the giver, in the fame he had 
 assisted in creating. There seems, however, to be at pres 
 ent a rapid increase in refined taste, and a better apprecia 
 tion of artistic talent in our country. And as an American, 
 nothing has made me feel prouder than this, and the steadily 
 increasing reputation of our artists. 
 
 Of these, no one has done more within the last few years, 
 than Powers. With a tireless and persevering energy, such 
 as could have belonged to few but Americans, he has al 
 ready gained an imperishable name in his art. I cannot de- 
 icribe the enjoyment I have derived from looking at hii 
 
THE " EVE " OF POWERS. 385 
 
 matchless works. I should hesitate in giving my own im 
 perfect judgment of their excellence, if I had not found it 
 to coincide with that of many others who are better versed 
 in the rules of art. When I read a notice seven or eight 
 years ago, of the young sculptor of Cincinnati, whose Lusts 
 exhibited so much evidence of genius, I little dreamed that 
 I should meet him in Florence, with the experience of years 
 of toil added to his early enthusiasm, and every day increas 
 ing his renown. 
 
 The statue of Eve is in my opinion one of the finest works 
 of modern times. So completely did the first view excite my 
 surprise and delight, and thrill every feeling that awakes at the 
 sight of the Beautiful, that my mind dwelt intensely on it for 
 days afterwards. This is the Eve of Scripture the Eve of 
 Milton mother of mankind and fairest of all her race. 
 With the full and majestic beauty of ripened womanhood, 
 she wears the purity of a world as yet unknown to sin. 
 With the bearing of a queen, there is in her countenance the 
 softness and grace of a tender, loving woman : 
 
 " God-like erect, with native honor clad 
 In naked majesty." 
 
 She holds the fatal fruit extended in her hand, and her face 
 expresses the struggle between conscience, dread, and desire. 
 The serpent, whose coiled length under the leaves and 
 flowers entirely surrounds her, thus forming a beautiful 
 allegorical symbol, is watching her decision from an ivied 
 trunk at her side. 
 
 Powers has now nearly finished an exquisite figure of a 
 fisher-boy, standing on the shore, with his net and rudder in 
 
 17 
 
886 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 one hand, while with the other he holds a shell to his ear, 
 and listens if it murmur to him of a gathering storm. His 
 slight, boyish limbs are full of grace and delicacy you feel 
 that the youthful frame could grow up into nothing less than 
 an Apollo. Then the head how beautiful ! Slightly benf 
 on one side, with the rim of the shell thrust under his locks 
 lips gently parted, and the face wrought up to the most 
 hushed and breathless expression, he listens whether the 
 sound be deeper than its wont. It makes you hold your 
 breath and listen, to look at it. Mrs. Jameson somewhere 
 remarks, that repose or suspended motion should be always 
 chosen for a statue that shall present a perfect, unbroken 
 impression to the mind. If this be true, the enjoyment must 
 be much more complete where not only the motion, but 
 breath and thought are suspended, and all the faculties are 
 wrought into one hushed and intense sensation. In gazing 
 on this exquisite conception, I feel my admiration filled to 
 the utmost, without that painful, aching impression, so often 
 left by beautiful works. It glides into my vision like a form 
 long missed from the gallery of beauty I am forming in my 
 mind, and I gaze on it with an ever new and increasing 
 delight. 
 
 The other day I saw Ibrahim Pacha, the son of old Me- 
 hemet Ali, driving in his carriage through the streets. He 
 is here on a visit from Lucca, where he has been spending 
 some time on account of his health. He is a man of ap 
 parently fifty years of age ; his countenance wears a stern 
 and almost savage look, very consistent with the character 
 he bears and the political part he has played. He is rather 
 portly in person, the pale olive of his complexion contrasting 
 
GALILEO S TOWER. 387 
 
 strongly with a beard perfectly white. In common with all 
 his attendants, he wears the high red cap, picturesque blue 
 jacket, and full trowsers of the Egyptians. There is 
 scarcely a man of them whose face with its wild, oriental 
 beauty, does not show to advantage among as civilizec and 
 prosaic Christians. 
 
 December 19, 1845. 
 
 I took a walk lately to the tower of Galileo. In company 
 with three friends, I left Florence by the Porta Romana, and 
 ascended the Poggie lrnper : ale. This beautiful avenue, a 
 mile and a quarter in length, leading up a gradual ascent to 
 a villa of the Grand Duke, is bordered with splendid 
 cypresses and evergreen oaks, and the grass banks are 
 always fresh and green, so that even in winter it calls up a 
 remembrance of summer. In fact, Winter does not wear the 
 scowl here that he has at home ; he is robed rather in a 
 threadbare garment of autumn, and it is only high up on the 
 mountain tops, out of the reach of his enemy, the sun, that 
 he dares to throw it off, and bluster about with his storms 
 and scatter down his snow-flakes. The roses still bud and 
 bloom in the hedges, the emerald of the meadows is not a 
 whit paler, the sun looks down lovingly as yet, and there 
 are only the white helmets of some of the Appenines, with 
 the leafless mulberries and vines, to tell us that we have 
 changed seasons. 
 
 A quarter of an hour s walk, part of it by a path through 
 an olive orchard, brought us to the top of a hill, which was 
 surmounted by a square, broken, ivied tower, forming part of 
 
388 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 a storehouse for the produce of the estate. We entered, 
 saluted by a dog, and passing through a court-yard, in which 
 stood two or three carts full of brown olives, found our way 
 to the rickety staircase. I spared my sentiment in going 
 up, thinking the steps might have been renewed since Ga 
 lileo s time, but the glorious landscape which opened around 
 us when we reached the top, time could not change, and I 
 gazed upon it with interest and emotion, as my eye took in 
 those forms which had once been mirrored in the philosopher s. 
 Our Tuscan life is at last at an end. After a residence of 
 nearly four months, we shall take leave of beautiful Florence 
 to-morrow. Our departure has been somewhat delayed by 
 the necessity of waiting for remittances from home. By the 
 first of November, our means were entirely exhausted, but 
 our friend, Mr. Tandy, generously shared his purse with us 
 until the long-expected letters arrived. Finally, I received 
 a draft for one hundred dollars, sixty of which were due to 
 Mr. T., who, in his turn, was beginning to look anxiously 
 for remittances, and had stinted himself for our sakes. 
 
 B was out of money, and does not expect to get any 
 
 more until we reach Paris, so that we had only forty dollars 
 between us, for the journey to Home and thence to Paris. 
 We had already pushed economy to its furthest point, and 
 it was evident that the thing was impossible. But it was 
 equally impossible to give up our plan of travel. I finally 
 went to Mr. Powers, who has treated me with the greatest 
 kindness and hospitality during our residence here, and 
 asked him to lend me fifty dollars for two or three months. 
 He complied with a readiness and cordiality which was most 
 grateful, and relieved me of the painful embarrassment 
 
AN AMUSING EXPERIENCE. 389 
 
 which I could not help feeling. We have now ninety 
 dollars, which we are confident will carry us through. But 
 Greece Greece is lost to us ! Oh for a hundred dollars, 
 that I might see the Parthenon before I die ! 
 
 My residence in Florence has been thoroughly happy and 
 delightful, and I leave it with sincere regret. These priva 
 tions, and anxieties, and embarrassments, are forgotten the 
 moment they are over, while the memory of pleasure re 
 mains as distinct as the reality. I know I shall hereafter 
 find even a delight in thinking of the hardest of my 
 experiences ; one of them is already sufficiently amusing, 
 and may amuse the reader also. Mr. Tandy, as I said, 
 shared his own means with us, after our own had failed, 
 until what he had in Florence was nearly exhausted. His 
 banker lived in Leghorn, and he determined to go there and 
 draw for more, instead of having it sent through a corres 
 pondent. B decided to accompany him, and two young 
 
 Englishmen, who had just arrived on foot from Geneva, 
 joined the party. They resolved on making an adventure 
 out of the expedition, and it was accordingly agreed that 
 they should take one of the market-boats of the Arno, and 
 sail down to Pisa, more than fifty miles distant, by the 
 river. We paid one or two visits to the western gate of the 
 city, where numbers of these craft always lie at anchor, and 
 struck a bargain with a sturdy boatman, that he should take 
 them for a scudo each. 
 
 The hour of starting was nine o clock in the evening, and 
 I accompanied them to the starting-place. The boat had a 
 slight canvas covering, and the crew consisted only of the 
 owner and his son Antonio, a boy of ten. I shall not recount 
 
390 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 their voyage all that night (which was so cold, that they tied 
 each other up in the boatmen s meal-bags, around the neck n 
 and lay down in a heap on the ribbed bottom of the boat) 
 nor their adventures in Pisa and Leghorn. They were to be 
 absent three or four days, and had left me money enough to 
 live upon in the meantime, but the next morning our bill for 
 washing came in, and consumed nearly the whole of it. 1 
 had about four crazie (three cents) a day left for my meals, 
 and by spending one of these for bread, and the remainder 
 for ripe figs, of which one crazie will purchase fifteen or 
 twenty, and roasted chestnuts, I managed to make a diminu 
 tive breakfast and dinner, but was careful not to take much 
 exercise, on account of the increase of hunger. As it hap 
 pened, my friends remained two days longer than I had ex 
 pected, and the last two crazie I had were expended for one 
 day s provisions. I then decided to try the next day with 
 out anything, and actually felt a curiosity to know what 
 one s sensations would be, on experiencing two or three days 
 of starvation. I knew that if the feeling should become insup 
 portable, I could easily walk out to the mountain of Fiesole, 
 where a fine fig orchard shades the old Roman amphitheatre. 
 But the experiment was broken off in its commencement, by 
 the arrival of the absent ones, in the middle of the following 
 night. Such is the weakness of human nature, that on find- 
 ing I should not want for breakfast, I arose from bed, and 
 ate the two or three remaining figs which, by a strong exer 
 tion, I had saved from the scanty allowance of the day. I 
 began to experience a powerful feeling of weakness and 
 vacuity, and my breakfast the next day the most delicious 
 meal I ever ate cost me at least ten cents 
 
ASCENT OF MONTE MORELLO- 39] 
 
 Whoever looks on the valley of the Arno from San Miniato, 
 and observes the Appenine range, of which Fiesole is one, 
 bounding it on the north, will immediately notice to the 
 northwest a double peak rising high above all the others. 
 The bare, brown forehead of this, known by the name of 
 Monte Morello, seemed so provokingly to challenge an 
 ascent, that we determined to try it. So we started early, 
 a few days ago, from the Porta San Gallo, with nothing but 
 the frosty grass and fresh air to remind us of the middle of 
 December. Leaving the Prato road, at the base of the 
 mountain, we passed Careggi, a favorite farm of Lorenzo the 
 Magnificent, and entered a narrow glen where a little brook 
 was brawling down its rocky channel. Here and there stood 
 a rustic mill, near which women were busy spreading their 
 washed clothes on the grass. Following the footpath, we 
 ascended a long eminence to a chapel where some boys were 
 amusing themselves with a common country game. They 
 have a small wheel, around which they wind a rope, and, 
 running a little distance to increase the velocity, let it off with 
 a sudden jerk. On a level road it can be thrown upwards of 
 a quarter of a mile. 
 
 From the chapel, a gradual ascent along the ridge of a 
 hill brought us to the foot of the peak, which rose high be 
 fore us, covered with bare rocks and stunted oaks. The 
 wind blew coldly from a snowy range to the north, as we 
 commenced ascending with a good will. A few shepherds 
 were leading their flocks along the sides, to browse on the 
 grass and withered bushes, and we started up a large hare 
 occasionally from his leafy covert. .The ascent was very 
 toilsome ; I was obliged to stop frequently on account of the 
 
392 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 painful throbbing of my heart, which made it difficult to 
 breathe. When the summit was gained, we lay down awhile 
 on the leeward side to cover ourselves. 
 
 We looked on the great valley of the Arno, perhaps 
 twenty-five miles long, and five or six broad, lying like a 
 long elliptical basin sunk among the hills. I can liken it to 
 nothing but a vast sea ; for a dense, blue mist covered the 
 level surface, through which the domes of Florence rose up 
 like a craggy island, while the thousands of scattered villas 
 resembled ships, with spread sails, afloat on its surface. The 
 sharp, cutting wind soon drove us down, with a few hundred 
 bounds, to the path again. Three more hungry mortals did 
 not dine at the Cacciatore that day. 
 
 The chapel of the Medici, which we visited, is of wonder 
 ful beauty. The walls are entirely encrusted with pielra 
 dura and the most precious kinds of marble. .The ceiling is 
 covered with gorgeous frescoes by Benevenuto, a modern 
 painter. Around the sides, in magnificent sarcophagi of 
 marble and jasper, repose the ashes of a few Cosmos and 
 Ferdinands. I asked the sacristan for the tomb of Lorenzo 
 the Magnificent. " Oh !" said he, " lie lived during the Re 
 public he has no tomb; these are only for Dukes!" I 
 could not repress a sigh at the lavish waste of labor and 
 treasure on this one princely chapel. They might have 
 slumbered unnoted, like Lorenzo, if they had done as much 
 for their country and Italy. 
 
 It is with a heavy hejart, that I sit down to-night to make 
 my closing note in this lovely city and in the journal which 
 
A FAREWELL MEDITATION. 393 
 
 has recorded my thoughts and impressions since leaving 
 America. I should find it difficult to analyse my emotions, 
 but I know that they oppress me painfully. So much rushes 
 at once over the mind and heart memories of what has 
 passed through both, since I made the first note in its pages 
 alternations of hope and anxiety and aspiration, but never 
 despondency that it resembles, in a manner, the closing of a 
 life. I seem almost to have lived through the common term 
 of a life in this short period. Much spiritual and mental ex 
 perience has crowded into a short time the sensations of 
 years. Painful though some of it has been, it was still wel 
 come. Difficulty and toil give the soul strength to crush, in 
 a loftier region, the passions which draw strength only from 
 the earth. So long as we listen to the purer promptings 
 within us, there is a Power invisible, though not unfelt, which 
 protects us amid the toil and tumult and soiling struggle, 
 there is ever an eye that watches, ever a heart that over 
 flows with Infinite and Almighty Love ! Let us trust then 
 in that Eternal Spirit, who pours out on us his warm and 
 boundless blessings, through the channels of so many kin 
 dred human hearts ! 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WINTER TRAVELLING AMONG THE APPENINES, 
 
 Departure from Florence Eain among the Appenines The Inn at Cucina Talk* 
 with the Tuscan Peasants Central Italy Arezzo Italian Country Inns Engaging 
 a Calesino Lake Thrasymene The Battle-field Night-Ride to Perugia Journey 
 to Foligno Vale of the Clitumuus Our Fellow Passengers Spoleto and Monte 
 Somma Terni without the Cascade Narni Otricoli Travelling by Vetturino 
 Soracte at Sunset Walking with the Dragoon The Campagna First Sight of St. 
 Peter s Entering Rome The Pantheon by Starlight The Dragoon s Adieu- 
 Rome. 
 
 ROME, December 28, 1845. 
 
 WE left Florence on the 20th, while citizens and strangers 
 were vainly striving to catch a glimpse of the Emperor of 
 Russia. He is, from some cause, very shy of being seen, in 
 his journeys from place to place, using the greatest art and 
 diligence to prevent the time of his departure and arrival 
 from being known. I waited some time in front of his hotel 
 to see him drive out, and at that very time he was in the 
 Pitti Palace, with the Grand Duke. The sky did not pro. 
 mise much, as we set out ; and when we had entered the 
 Appenines and taken a last look at the lovely valley behind 
 us, and the great dome of the city where we had spent four 
 
THE INN AT CUCINA. 395 
 
 delightful months, it began to rain heavily. Determined to 
 conquer the weather at the beginning, we kept on, although 
 before many miles were passed, it became too penetrating 
 to be agreeable. The mountains grew nearly black under 
 the shadow of the clouds, and the storms swept drearily 
 down their passes and defiles, until the scenery was more like 
 the Hartz than Italy. We were obliged to stop at Font* 
 Sieve and dry our saturated garments : when, as the rain 
 slackened somewhat, we rounded the foot of the mountain 
 of Vallombrosa, above the swollen and noisy Arno, to the 
 little village of Cucina. 
 
 We entered the only inn in the place, followed by a crowd 
 of wondering boys, for two such travellers had probably 
 never been seen there. They made a blazing "fire for us in 
 the broad chimney, and after the police of the place had satis 
 fied themselves that we were not dangerous characters, they 
 asked many questions about our country. I excited the 
 sympathy of the women greatly in our behalf by telling 
 them we had three thousand miles of sea between us and 
 our homes. They exclaimed in the most sympathizing 
 tones : " Poverini ! so far to go ! three thousand miles of 
 water !" 
 
 The next morning we followed the right bank of the Arno. 
 At Incisa, a large town on the river, the narrow pass broad 
 ens into a large and fertile plain, bordered on the north by 
 the mountains. The snow storms were sweeping around 
 their summits the whole day, and I thought of the desolate 
 situation of the good monks who had so hospitably enter 
 tained us three months before. It was weary travelling ; but 
 at Levane our fatigues were soon forgotten. Two or three 
 
396 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 peasants were sitting at night beside the blazing fire, and we 
 were amused to hear them talking about us. I overheard 
 one asking another to converse with us awhile. " Why 
 should I speak to them ?" said lie ; " they are not of our 
 profession we are swineherds, and they do not care to talk 
 with us." However, his curiosity prevailed at last, and we 
 had a long conversation together. It seemed difficult for 
 them to comprehend how there could be so much water to 
 cross, without any land, before reaching our country. Find 
 ing we were going to Rome, I overheard one remark that 
 we were pilgrims, which seemed to be the general supposition, 
 as there are few foot-travellers in Italy. The people said to 
 one another as we passed along the road : " They are 
 making a journey of penance !" These peasants expressed 
 themselves very well for persons of their station, but they 
 were remarkably ignorant of every thing beyond their own 
 olive orchards and vine fields. 
 
 On leaving Levane, the morning gave a promise, and the 
 sun winked at us once or twice through the broken clouds, 
 with a watery eye ; but our cup was not yet full. After 
 crossing one or two shoulders of the range of hills, we de 
 scended to the great upland plain of Central Italy, watered 
 by the sources of the Arno and the Tiber. The scenery is 
 of a remarkable character. The hills appear to have been 
 washed and swept by some mighty flood. They are worn 
 into every shape pyramids, castles, towers standing deso 
 late and brown, in long ranges, like the ruins of mountains. 
 The plain is scarred with deep gullies, adding to the look of 
 decay which accords so well with the Cyclopean relics of the 
 country. A storm of hail which rolled away before us, dig 
 
ITALIAN COUNTRY INNS. 397 
 
 closed the city of Arezzo, on a hill at the other end of the 
 plain, its heavy cathedral crowning the pyramidal mass of 
 buildings. Our first care was to find a good trattoria, for 
 hunger spoke louder then sentiment, and then we sought 
 the house where Petrarch was born. A young priest show 
 ed it to us on the summit of the hill. It has not been 
 changed since he lived in it. 
 
 On leaving Florence, we determined to pursue the same 
 plan as in Germany, of stopping in the inns frequented by 
 the common people. They treated us here, as elsewhere, 
 with great kindness and sympathy, and we were freed from 
 the outrageous impositions practised at the greater hotels. 
 They always built a large fire to dry us, after our day s 
 walk in the rain, and placing chairs in the hearth, which was 
 raised several feet above the floor, stationed us there, like 
 the giants Gog and Magog, while the children, assembled 
 below, gazed up at our elevated greatness. They even 
 invited us to share their simple meals with them, and it was 
 amusing to hear their good-hearted exclamations of pity at 
 finding we were so far from home. We slept in the great 
 beds (for the most of the Italian beds are calculated for a 
 man, wife, and four children !) without fear of being assas 
 sinated, and only met with banditti in dreams. 
 
 This is a very unfavorable time of the year for foot-travel- 
 
 
 
 ling, as we found before the close of the third day. We 
 walked until noon over the Val di Chiana to Camuscia, the 
 last post-station in the Tuscan dominions. On a mountain 
 near it is the city of Cortona, still inclosed within its Cyclo 
 pean walls, built long before the foundation of Rome. Here 
 our patience gave way, melted down by the unremitting 
 
398 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 rains, and while eating dinner we made a bargain for a 
 vehicle to take us to Perugia. We gave a little more than 
 half of what the vetturino demanded, which was still an 
 exorbitant price two scudi each for a ride of thirty miles. 
 
 In a short time we were called to take our seats. I be 
 held with consternation a rickety, uncovered, two-wheeled 
 vehicle, to which a single lean horse was attached. " What !" 
 said I : "is that the carriage you promised ? " " You bar 
 gained for a calesino," said he, " and there it is ! " adding, 
 moreover, that there was nothing else in the place. So we 
 clambered up, thrust our feet among the hay, and the 
 machine rolled off with a kind of saw-mill motion, at the 
 rate of five miles an hour. Soon after, in ascending the 
 mountain of the Spelunca, a sheet of blue water was re 
 vealed below us the lake of Thrasyrnene ! From the emi 
 nence around which we drove, we looked on the whole of 
 its broad surface and the mountains which encompass it. It 
 is a magnificent sheet of water, in size and shape somewhat 
 like New York Bay. While our calesino was stopped at 
 the papal custom-house, I gazed on the memorable field 
 below us. A crescent plain, between the mountain and the 
 lake, was the arena where two mighty empires met in com 
 bat. The place seems marked by nature for the scene of 
 some great event. I experienced a thrilling emotion, such 
 as no battle plain has excited, since, when a schoolboy, I 
 rambled over the field of Brandy wine. I looked through 
 the long arcades of patriarchal olives, and tried to cover the 
 field with the shadows of the Roman and Carthaginian 
 myriads. I recalled the shock of meeting legions, the clash 
 of swords and bucklers, and the waving of standards amid 
 
A NIGHT-RIDE IN THE RAIN. 399 
 
 the dust of battle, while stood on the mountain amphi* 
 theatre, trembling and invisible, the protecting deities of 
 Borne. 
 
 We rode over the plain, passed through the dark old town 
 of Passignano, built on a rocky point by the lake, and 
 dashed along the shore. A dark, stormy sky bent over us, 
 and the roused waves broke in foam on the rocks. The 
 winds whistled among the bare oak boughs, and shook the 
 olives until they twinkled all over. The vetturino whipped 
 our old horse into a gallop, and we were borne on in unison 
 with the scene, which would have answered for one of Hoff 
 man s wildest stories. 
 
 Ascending a long hill, we took a last look in the dusk at 
 Thrasymene, and continued our journey among the Ap- 
 penines. The vetturino was to have changed horses at 
 Magione, thirteen miles from Peiagia, but there were none 
 to be had, and our poor beast was obliged to perform the 
 whole journey without rest or food. It grew very dark, 
 and a storm, with thunder and lightning, swept among the 
 hills. The clouds were of pitchy darkness, and we could 
 see nothing beyond the road, except the lights of peasant- 
 cottages trembling through the gloom. Now and then a flash 
 of lightning revealed the black masses of the mountains, on 
 which the solid sky seemed to rest. The wind and cold rain 
 swept wailing past us, as if an evil spirit were abroad on the 
 darkness. Three hours of such nocturnal travel brought us 
 to Perugia, wet and chilly, as well as our driver, but I pitied 
 the poor horse more than him. 
 
 When we looked out the window, on awaking, the 
 clustered house-tops of the city, and the summits of the 
 
400 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 mountains near, were covered with snow. As the rain con 
 tinued, we left for Foligno the next morning, in a close but 
 covered vehicle, and descending the mountain, crossed the 
 muddy and rapid Tiber in the valley below. All day wo 
 rode slowly among the hills ; where the ascent was steep, 
 two or four large oxen were hitched before the horses. I 
 saw little of the scenery, for our Italian companions would 
 not bear the windows open. Once, when we stopped, I got 
 out and found we were in the region of snow, at the foot of 
 a stormy peak, which towered sublimely above. At dusk, 
 we entered Foligno, and were driven to the " Croce Bianca" 
 glad to be thirty miles further on our way 10 Rome. 
 
 After some discussion with a vetturino, who was to leave 
 next morning, we made a contract with him for the re 
 mainder of the journey, for the rain, which fell in torrents, 
 forbade all thought of pedestrianism. At five o clock we 
 rattled out of the gate, and drove by the waning moon and 
 morning starlight, down the vale of the Clitummis- As the 
 dawn stole on I watched eagerly the features of the scene. 
 Instead of a narrow glen, as my fancy had pictured, we 
 were in a valley, several miles broad, covered with rich 
 orchards and fertile fields. A glorious range of mountains 
 bordered it on the north, resembling Alps in their winter 
 garments. A rosy flush stole over the snow, which kindled 
 with the growing morn. The Olitumnus, beside us, was the 
 purest of streams. The heavy rains which had fallen, had 
 not soiled in the least its limpid crystal. 
 
 When it grew light enough, I looked at our companions 
 for the three days journey. The two other inside seats 
 Were occupied by a tradesman of Trieste, with his wife and 
 
8POLETO AND MONTE SOMMA. 401 
 
 child ; an old soldier, and a young dragoon going to visit his 
 parents after seven years absence, occupied the front seat 
 Persons travelling together in a carriage are not long in 
 becoming acquainted close companionship soon breed? 
 familiarity. Before night, I had made a fast friend of the 
 young soldier, learned to bear the perverse humor of the 
 child with as much patience as its father, and even drawn 
 looks of grim kindness from tiie crusty old vetturino. 
 
 Our mid-day resting-place was Spoleto. As there were 
 two hours given us, we took a ramble through the city, 
 visited the ruins of its Roman theatre, and saw the gate 
 erected to commemorate the victory gained here over Han 
 nibal, which stopped his triumphal march towards Rome. 
 A great part of the afternoon was spent in ascending the 
 denies of Monte Somma, the highest pass on the road 
 between Ancona and Rome. Assisted by two yoke of oxen 
 we slowly toiled up through the snow, the mountains on 
 both sides covered with thickets of box and evergreen oaks, 
 among whose leafy screens the banditti hide themselves. It 
 is not considered dangerous at present, but as the dragoons 
 who used to patrol this pass have been sent off to Bologna, 
 to keep down the rebellion, the robbers will probably return 
 to their old haunts again. We saw many suspicious looking 
 coverts, where they might have hidden 
 
 We slept at Terni and did not see the falls not exactly 
 on Wordsworth s principle of leaving Yarrow unvisited, but 
 because, under the circumstances, it was impossible. The 
 vetturino did not arrive there until after dark ; he was to 
 leave before dawn; the distance was five miles, and the 
 roads very bad. Besides, we had seen falls quite- as grand, 
 
402 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 which needed only a Byron to make them as renowned we 
 had been told that those of Tivoli, which we shall see, were 
 equally fine. The Velino, which we crossed near Terni, 
 was not a large stream in short, we sought as many reasons 
 as possible, why the falls need not be seen. 
 
 Leaving Terni before day, we drove up the long vale 
 towards Narni. The roads were frozen hard; the ascent 
 becoming more difficult, the vetturino was obliged to stop at 
 a farm-house and get another pair of horses, with which, 
 and a handsome young contadino as postillion, we reached 
 Narni in a short time. In climbing the hill, we had a view 
 of the whole valley of Terni, shut in on all sides by snow- 
 crested Appenines, and threaded by the Nar. At Otricoli, 
 while dinner was preparing, I walked around the crumbling 
 battlements to look down into the valley and trace the far 
 windings of the Tiber. In rambling through the crooked 
 streets, we saw everywhere the remains of the splendor 
 which this place boasted in the days of Rome. Fragments 
 of fluted pillars stood here and there in the streets ; large 
 blocks of marble covered with inscriptions were built into 
 the houses, defaced statues were used as door-ornaments, and 
 the stepping-stone to our rude inn, worn every day by the feet 
 of grooms and vetturini, contained some letters of an inscrip 
 tion which may have recorded the glory of an emperor. 
 
 Travelling with a vetturino, is unquestionably the plea- 
 antest way of seeing Italy. The easy rate of the journey 
 allows time for becoming well acquainted with the country, 
 and the tourist is freed from the annoyance of quarrelling 
 with cheating landlords. A translation of our written con 
 tract will best explain this mode of travelling : 
 
80BACTE AT SUNSET. 401 
 
 " CARRIAGE *OR ROMS. 
 
 u Our contract is, to be conducted to Rome for the sum of twentj 
 francs each, say 20f. and the buona mano, if we are well served 
 We must have from the vetturino, Giuseppe Nerpiti, supper each 
 night, a free chamber with two beds, and fire, until we shall arrive 
 at Rome. I, Geronymo Sartarelli, steward of the Inn of the White 
 Cross, at Foligno, in testimony of the above contract." 
 
 Beyond Otricoli, we passed through some relics of an age 
 anterior to Rome. A few soiled masses of masonry, black 
 with age, stood along the brow of the mountain, on the 
 extremity of which were the ruins of a castle of the middle 
 ages. We crossed the Tiber on a bridge buil j by Augustus 
 Caesar, and reached Borghetto as the sun was gilding with 
 its last rays the ruined citadel above. As the carriage with 
 its four horses was toiling slowly up the hill, we got out and 
 walked in advance, to gaze on the green meadows of the 
 Tiber. 
 
 On descending from Narni, I noticed a high, prominent 
 mountain, whose ridgy back, somewhat like the profile of a 
 face, reminded me of the Traunstein, in Upper Austria. As 
 we approached, its form gradually changed, until it stood on 
 the Campagna 
 
 " Like a long-swept wave about to break, 
 That on the curl hangs pausing " 
 
 and by that token of a great bard, I recognized Monte So 
 racte. The dragoon took us by the arms, and away w 
 scampered over the Campagna, with one of the loveliest sun- 
 Beta before us, that ever painted itself on my retinue. I can- 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 not portray in words the glory that flooded the whole west 
 ern heaven. It was a sea of melted ruby, amethyst and 
 topaz deep, dazzling, and of crystal transparency. Th* 
 color changed in tone every few minutes, till in half an 
 hour it sank away before the twilight to a belt of deep 
 orange along the west. 
 
 We left Civita Castellana before daylight. The sky was 
 red with dawn as we approached Nepi, and we got out to 
 walk in the clear, frosty air. The dragoon, who had become 
 my bosom friend, threw one arm around my neck and gave 
 me half of his thick military cloak, and thus, muffled up 
 together, we walked nearly all forenoon. In traversing the 
 desolate Campagna, we saw many deep chambers dug in 
 the earth, used by the charcoal burners ; the air was filled 
 with sulphureous exhalations, very offensive to the smell, 
 which rose from the ground in many places. Miles and 
 miles of the dreary waste, covered only with flocks of graz 
 ing sheep, were passed, and about noon we reached Bac- 
 cano, a small post station, twenty miles from Rome. A long 
 hill rose before us, and we sprang out of the carriage and 
 ran ahead, to see Rome from its summit. As we approached 
 the top, the Campagna spread far before and around us 
 level and blue as an ocean. I climbed up a high bank by 
 the roadside, and the whole scene came in view. Perhaps 
 eighteen miles distant rose the dome of St. Peter s near the 
 horizon a small spot on the vast plain. Beyond it and 
 farther east, were the mountains of Albano on our left 
 Soracte and the Apennines, and a blue line along the west 
 betrayed the Mediterranean. There was nothing peculiarly 
 beautiful or sublime in the landscape, but few other scenei 
 
ENTERING ROME, 405 
 
 on earth combine in one glance such a myriad of mighty 
 associations, or bewilder the mind with such a crowd of con 
 fused emotions. 
 
 As we approached Rome, my dragoon became anxious and 
 impatient. He had not heard from his parents for a long 
 time, and knew not if they were living, His desire to 
 reach the end of his journey finally became so great, that 
 he hailed a peasant who was driving past in a light vehicle, 
 left our slow carriage and went out of sight in a gallop. 
 
 As we descended to the Tiber in the dusk of evening, the 
 domes and spires of Rome came gradually into view, St. 
 Peter s standing like a mountain in the midst of them. Cross 
 ing the yellow river by the Ponte Molle, two miles of road, 
 straight as an arrow, lay before us, with the light of the 
 Porto, del Popolo at the end. I felt strangely excited as the 
 old vehicle rumbled through the arch, and we entered a 
 square with fountains and an obelisk of Egyptian granite in 
 the centre. Delivering up our passports, we waited until 
 the necessary examinations had been made, and then weni 
 forward. Three streets branch out from the square, the 
 middle one of which, leading directly to the Capitol, is the 
 Corso, the Roman Broadway. Our vetturino chose that to 
 the left, the Via della Scrota, leading off towards the bridge 
 of St. Angelo. I looked out the windows as we drove along, 
 but saw nothing except butcher-shops, grocer-stores> etc. 
 horrible objects for a sentimental traveller ! 
 
 Being emptied out on the pavement at last, our first care 
 was to find rooms ; after searching through many streets, 
 with a coarse old Italian who spoke like an angel, we ar 
 rived at a square where the music of a fountain was heard 
 
406 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 through the dusk, and an obelisk cut out some of the star 
 light. At the other end I saw a portico through the dark 
 ness, and my heart gave a breathless bound on recognising 
 the Pantheon -the matchless temple of Ancient Rome ! And 
 now while I am writing, I hear the gush of the fountain 
 and if I step to the window, I see the time-worn but still 
 glorious edifice. 
 
 On returning for our baggage, we met the funeral proces 
 sion of the Princess Altieri. Priests in white and gold car 
 ried flaming torches, and the coffin, covered with a magnifi 
 cent golden pall, was borne in a splendid hearse, attended 
 by four priests. As we were settling our account with the 
 vetturino, who demanded much more buona mano than we 
 were willing to give, the young dragoon returned. He was 
 greatly agitated. " I have been at home ! " said he, in a 
 voice trembling with emotion. I was about to ask him fur 
 ther concerning his family, but he stopped me by saying : 
 51 1 have only come to say addio / I hope we shall meet 
 again." He then threw his arms around me, kissed me 
 twice, said " addio ! " with an unsteady voice, and was gone, 
 I almost wish we had not met, for I shall never see him 
 again. I stop writing to ramble through Rome. This city 
 of all cities to me this dream of my boyhood giant, god 
 like, fallen Rome is around me, and I revel in a glow of 
 anticipation and exciting thought that seems to change my 
 whole state of being. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 ROME. 
 
 The First Day In RomeThe Corso We find the Forum Trajan a Column Pap*H 
 Profanation St. Peter s Found The Square and Obelisk The Interior of St. 
 Peter s The Galleries of the Vatican Statues Ancient Ark-Hemicycle of the 
 Belvidere The Laocoon The Divine Apollo New Year s Day in Rome The 
 Quirinal Hill St. John Lateran The Temple of Vesta The Pyramid of Cestius 
 The Tombs of Keats and Shelley The Euins of Rome The Coliseum at Sunset 
 Mausoleum of Augustus Crawford s Studio The Square of the Pantheon Pro 
 fane and Pious Beggars The Trattoria del Sole Impressions of Roman Ruins 
 The Coliseum by Moonlight. 
 
 ROME, December 29, 1845. 
 
 ONE day s walk through Rome how shall I describe it 1 
 The Capitol, the Forum, St. Peter s, the Coliseum what 
 few hours ramble ever took in places so hallowed by poetry, 
 history and art ] It was a golden leaf in my calendar of 
 life. In thinking over it now, and drawing out the threads 
 of recollection from the varied web of thought I have woven 
 to-day, I almost wonder how I dared so much at once ; but 
 within reach of them all, how was it possible to wait ? Let 
 me give a sketch of our day s ramble. 
 
 Hearing that it was better to visit the ruins by evening or 
 
408 VIEWS A-J- OOT. 
 
 moonlight (alas ! there is no moon now), we set out to hunt 
 St. Peter s. Going in the direction of the Corso, we passed 
 the ruined front of the magnificent Temple of Antoninus, 
 iiow used as the Papal Custom House. We turned to the 
 right on enterirg the Corso, expecting to have a view of the 
 city from the hill at its southern end. It is a magnificent 
 street, lined with palaces and splendid edifices of every kind, 
 and always filled with crowds of carriages and people. On 
 leaving it, however, we became bewildered among the narrow 
 streets passed through a market of vegetables, crowded 
 with beggars and contadini threaded many by-ways between 
 dark old buildings saw one or two antique fountains and 
 many modern churches, and finally arrived at a hill. 
 
 We ascended many steps, and then descending a little 
 towards the other side, saw suddenly below us the Roman 
 Foru n. ! I knew it at once and those three Corinthian 
 columns that stood near us what could they be but the re 
 mains of the temple of Jupiter Stator 1 We stood on the 
 Capitoline Hill ; at the foot was the Arch of Septimus Se- 
 verus, brown with age and shattered ; near it stood the ma 
 jestic front of the Temple of Fortune, its pillars of polished 
 granite glistening in the sun, as if they had been erected 
 yesterday, while on the left the rank grass was waving from 
 the arches and mighty walls of the Palace of the Caesars ! 
 In front ruin upon ruin lined the way for half a mile, where 
 the Coliseum towered grandly through the blue morning 
 mist, at the base of the Esquiline Hill ! Good heavens, 
 vfhat a scene ! Grandeur, such as the world has never 
 bince beheld, once rose through that blue atmosphere; 
 splendor inconceivable, the spoils of a world, the triumph* 
 
TRAJAN S COLUMN. 409 
 
 of a thousand armies had passed over that earth minds, 
 which for ages moved the ancient world, had thought there ; 
 and words of power and glory, from the lips of immortal 
 men, had been syllabled on that hallowed air. To call back 
 all this on the very spot, while the wreck of what once was 
 rose mouldering and desolate around, kindled a glow of 
 thought and feeling too powerful for words. 
 
 Returning at hazard through the streets, we came sud 
 denly upon the column of Trajan, standing in an excavated 
 square below the level of the city, amid a number of broken 
 granite columns, which formed part of the Forum dedicated 
 to him by Rome, after the conquest of Dacia. The column 
 is one hundred and thirty-two feet high, and entirely cover 
 ed with bas-reliefs representing his victories, winding about 
 it in a spiral line to the top. The number of figures is com 
 puted at two thousand five hundred, and they were of such 
 excellence that Raphael used many of them for his models. 
 They are now much defaced, and the column is surmounted 
 by a statue of some saint. The inscription on the pedestal 
 has been erased, and the name of Sixtus V. substituted 
 Nothing can exceed the ridiculous vanity of the old popes 
 in thus mutilating the finest monuments of ancient art. 
 You cannot look upon any relic of antiquity in Rome, but 
 your eyes are assailed by the words " PONTIFEX MAXIMUS," 
 in staring modern letters. Even the magnificent bronzes of 
 the Pantheon were stripped to make the baldachin under the 
 dome of St. Peter s. 
 
 Finding our way back again, we took a fresh start, happi 
 ly in the right direction, and after walking some time came 
 out on the Tiber, at the Bridge of St. Angelo. The river 
 
 IS 
 
410 VIKV S A-FOOT. 
 
 rolled below in his muddy glory, and in front, on the oppo 
 site bank, stood "the pile which Hadrian reared on high " 
 now, the Castle of St. Angelo. Knowing that St. Peter s 
 was to be seen from this bridge, I looked about in search of 
 it. There was only one dome in sight, large and of beauti 
 ful proportions. I said at once, " surely that cannot be St. 
 Peter s !" On looking again, however, I saw the top of a 
 massive range of building near it, which corresponded so 
 nearly with the pictures of the Vatican, that I was unwiJ 
 lingly forced to believe the mighty dome was really before 
 rne. I recognised it as one of those we had seen from the 
 Capitol, but it appeared so much smaller when viewed from 
 a greater distance, that I was quite deceived. On consider 
 ing we were still three fourths of a mile from it, and that 
 we could see its minutest parts distinctly, the illusion was 
 explained. 
 
 Going directly down the Borgo Vecchio, it seemed a long 
 time before we arrived at the square of St. Peter s ,- and 
 when at length we stood in front, with the majestic colonnade 
 sweeping around the fountains on each side sending up 
 their showers of silvery spray the mighty obelisk of Egyp 
 tian granite piercing the sky and beyond, the great facade 
 and dome of the Cathedral, I confessed my unmingled ad 
 miration. It recalled to my mind the grandeur of ancient 
 Rome, and mighty as her edifices must have been, I doubt 
 if she could boast many views more overpowering than this. 
 The facade of St. Peter s seemed close to us, but it waH 
 a third of a mile distant, and the people ascending the steps 
 dwindled to pigmies. 
 
 I passed the obelisk, went up the long ascent, crossed the 
 
411 
 
 portico, pushed aside the heavy leathern curtain at the 
 entrance, and stood in the great nave. I need not describe 
 my feelings at the sight, but I will give the dimensions, and 
 the reader may then fancy what they were. Before me 
 was a marble plain six hundred feet long, arid under the 
 cross four hundred and seventeen feet wide ! One hundred 
 and fifty feet above, sprang a glorious arch, dazzling with 
 inlaid gold, and in the centre of the cross there were four 
 hundred feet of air between me and the top of the dome ! 
 The sunbeam, stealing through the lofty window at one end 
 of the transept, made a bar of light on the blue air, hazy 
 with incense, one tenth of a mile long, before it fell on the 
 mosaics and gilded shrines of the other extremity. The 
 grand cupola alone, including lantern and cross, is two hun 
 dred and eighty-five feet high, or sixty feet higher than the 
 Bunker Hill Monument, and the four immense pillars on 
 which it rests are each one hundred and thirty-seven feet in 
 circumference ! It seems as if human art had outdone 
 itself in producing this temple the grandest which the 
 world ever erected for the worship of the Living God ! The 
 awe I felt in looking up at the colossal arch of marble and 
 gold, did not humble me ; on the contrary, I felt exalted, 
 ennobled beings in the form I wore planned the glorious 
 edifice, and it seemed that in godlike power and persever 
 ance, they were indeed but a little lower than the angels. 
 I felt that, if fallen, my race was still mighty and immortal, 
 The Vatican is only open twice a week, on days which 
 are mtfestas ; most fortunately, to-day happened to be one 
 of these, and we took a run through its endless halls. The 
 extent and magnificence of the gallery of sculpture ii 
 
412 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 amazing. The halls, which are filled to overflowing- with 
 the iinest works of ancient art, would, if placed side by side, 
 make a row more than two miles in length ! You enter at 
 once into a hall of marble, with a magnificent arched ceiling, 
 a third of a mile long; the sides are covered for a grout 
 distance with Roman inscriptions of every kind, divided into 
 compartments according to the era of the empire to which 
 they refer. One which I examined, appeared to be a kind 
 of index of the roads in Italy, with the towns on them ; and 
 we could decipher on that time-worn block, the very route 
 we had followed from Florence hither. 
 
 Then came the statues, and here I am bewildered, how to 
 describe them. Hundreds upon hundreds of figures statues 
 of citizens, generals, emperors, and gods fauns, satyrs, and 
 nymphs children, cupids, and tritons in fact, they seemed 
 inexhaustible. Many of them, too, were forms of matchless 
 beauty ; there were Venuses and nymphs, born of the 
 loftiest dreams of grace; fauns on whose faces shone the 
 very soul of humor, and heroes and divinities with an air 
 of majesty worthy the " land of lost gods and godlike men !" 
 
 I am lost in astonishment at the perfection of art attained 
 by the Greeks and Romans. There is scarcely a form of 
 beauty, that has ever met my eye, which is not to be found 
 in this gallery. I should almost despair of such another 
 blaze of glory on the world, were it not my devout belief 
 that what has been done may be done again, and had I not 
 iaith that the dawn in which we live will bring on another 
 day equally glorious. And why should not America, with 
 the experience and added wisdom which three thousand 
 years have slowly yielded to the old world, joined to the 
 
THE LAOCOON. 413 
 
 giant energy of her youth and freedom, re-bestow on the 
 world the divine creations of Art ? 
 
 But let us step on to the hemicycle of the Belvidere, and 
 view some works greater than any we have yet seen, or 
 even imagined. The adjoining gallery is filled with master 
 pieces of sculpture, but we will keep our eyes unwearied 
 and merely glance along the rows. At length we reach a 
 circular court with a fountain flinging up its waters in the 
 centre. Before us is an open cabinet ; there is a beautiful, 
 manly form within, but you would not for an instant take it 
 for the Apollo. By the Gorgon head it holds aloft, we re 
 cognise Canova s Perseus he has copied the form and atti 
 tude of the Apollo, but he could not breathe into it the same 
 warming fire. It seemed to me particularly lifeless, and I 
 greatly preferred his Boxers, who stand on either side of it. 
 
 Now we look on a scene of the deepest physical agony. 
 Mark how every muscle of old Laocoon s body is distended 
 to the utmost in the mighty struggle ! What intensity of 
 pain in the quivering, distorted features ! Every nerve, 
 which despair can call into action, is excited in one giant 
 effort, and a scream of anguish seems just to have quivered 
 on those marble lips. The serpents have rolled their stran 
 gling coils around father and sons, but terror has taken away 
 the strength of the latter, and they make but feeble resist 
 ance. After looking with indifference on the many casts of 
 this group, I was the more moved by the magnificent 
 original. It deserves all the admiration that has been 
 heaped upon it. 
 
 I absolutely trembled on approaching the cabinet of the 
 Apollo. I had built up in fancy a glorious ideal, drawn from 
 
414 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 all that bards have sung or artists have rhapsodized about 
 its divine beauty. I feared disappointment I dreaded to 
 have my ideal displaced and my faith in the power of human 
 genius overthrown by a form less than perfect. However, 
 with a feeling of desperate excitement, I entered and looked 
 upon it. Now what shall I say of it 1 How describe its 
 immortal beauty ? To what shall I liken its glorious per 
 fection of form, or the fire that imbues the cold marble with 
 the soul of a god 1 Not with sculpture, for it stands alone 
 and above all other works of art nor with men, for it has 
 a majesty more than human. I gazed on it, lost in wonder 
 and joyjoy that I could, at last, take into my mind a fault 
 less ideal of god-like, exalted manhood. The figure seems 
 actually to possess a soul, and I looked on it, not as on a piece 
 of marble, but as on a being of loftier mould, and waited to 
 see him step forward when the arrow had reached its mark. 
 I would give worlds to feel one moment the sculptor s 
 triumph when his work was completed ; that one exulting 
 thrill must have repaid him for every ill he might have suf 
 fered on earth. 
 
 January 1, 1846. 
 
 New Year s Day in the Eternal City ! It will be some 
 thing to say in after years, that I have seen one year open 
 In Rome that, while my distant friends were making up 
 for the winter without, with good cheer around the merry 
 board, I have walked in sunshine by the ruins of the 
 Coliseum, watched the orange groves gleaming with golden 
 fruitage in the Farnese gardens, trodden the daisied meadow 
 
NEW-YEARS DAY IN ROME. 415 
 
 around the sepulchre of Caius Cestius, and mused by the 
 graves of Shelley, Keats and Salvator Rosa ! The Palace 
 of the Caesars looked even more mournful in the pale, slant 
 sunshine, and the yellow Tiber, as he flowed through the 
 "marble wilderness," seemed sullenly counting up the long 4 
 centuries during which degenerate slaves have trodden his 
 banks. A leaden-colored haze clothed the seven hills, and 
 heavy silence reigned among the ruins, for all work was 
 prohibited, and the people were gathered in their churches. 
 Rome never appeared so desolate and melancholy as 
 to-day. 
 
 In the morning I climbed the Quirinal Hill, now called 
 Monte Cavallo, from the colossal statues of Castor and 
 Pollux, with their steeds, supposed to be the work of Phi 
 dias and Praxiteles. They stand on each side of an obelisk 
 of Egyptian granite, beside whicn a strong stream of water 
 gushes up into a magnificent bronze basin, found in the old 
 Forum. The statues, entirely browned by age, are consider 
 ed masterpieces of Grecian art, and whether or not from the 
 great masters, show in all their proportions, the conceptions 
 of lofty genius. 
 
 We kept on our way between gardens filled with orange 
 groves, whose glowing fruit reminded me of Mignon s beau 
 tiful reminiscence " Im dunkeln Laub die gold-Orangen 
 gliihn !" Rome, although subject to cold winds from the 
 Appenines, enjoys so mild a climate that oranges and palm 
 trees grow in the open air, without protection. Daisies and 
 violets bloom the whole winter, in the meadows of never 
 fading green. The basilica of the Lateran equals St. Peter s 
 in splendor, though its size is much smaller. The walls are 
 
416 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 covered with gorgeous hangings of velvet embroidered with 
 gold, and before the high altar, which glitters with precious 
 stones, are four pillars of gilt bronze, said to be those which 
 Augustus made of the spars of Egyptian vessels captured at 
 the battle of Actium. 
 
 We descended the hill to the Coliseum, and passing undef 
 the Arch of Constantine, walked along the ancient triumphal 
 way, at the foot of the Palatine Hill, which is entirely 
 covered with the ruins of the Caesars Palace. A road, 
 rounding its southern base towards the Tiber, brought us to 
 the Temple of Vesta a beautiful little relic which has been 
 singularly spared by the devastations that have overthrown 
 so many mightier fabrics. It is of circular form, surrounded 
 by nineteen Corinthian columns, thirty-six feet in height ; a 
 clumsy tiled roof now takes the place of the elegant cornice 
 which once gave the crowning charm to its perfect propor 
 tions. Close at hand are the remains of the temple of For- 
 tuna Virilis, of which some Ionic pillars alone are left, and 
 the house of Cola di Rienzi the last Tribune of Rome. 
 
 As we approached the walls, the sepulchre of Caius Cestius 
 came in sight a single solid pyramid, one hundred feet in 
 height. The walls are built against it, and the light apex risea 
 far above the massive gate beside it, which was erected by 
 Belisarius. But there were other tombs at hand, for which 
 we had more sympathy than that of the forgotten Roman, 
 and we turned away to look for the graves of Shelley and 
 Keats. They lie in the Protestant burying ground, on the 
 side of a mound that slopes gently up to the old wall of 
 Rome, beside the pyramid of Cestius. The meadow around 
 is still verdant and sown thick with daisies, and the soft 
 
GRAVES OF KEATS AND SHE^LET. 411 
 
 green of the Italian pine mingles with the dark cypress 
 above the slumberers. Huge aloes grow in the shade, and 
 the sweet bay and bushes of rosemary make the air fresh 
 and fragrant. There is a solemn, mournful beauty about the 
 place, green and lonely as it is, beside the tottering walls of 
 ancient Rome, that takes away the gloomy associations of 
 death, and makes one wish to lie there, too, when his thread 
 shall be spun to the end. 
 
 We found first the simple head-stone of Keats, alone, in 
 the grassy meadow. Its inscription states that on his death 
 bed, in the bitterness of his heart, at the malice of hi* 
 enemies, he desired these words to be written on his tomb 
 stone : "Here lies one whose name was written in water." 
 
 Shelley lies at the top of the shaded slope, in a lonely 
 spot by the wall, surrounded by tall cypresses. A little 
 hedge of rose and bay surrounds his grave, which bears the 
 simple inscription " PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ; Cor Cor- 
 dium" 
 
 " Nothing of him that doth fade, 
 But doth suffer a sea-change 
 Into something rich and strange." 
 
 Glorious Shelley ! He sleeps calmly now in that silent 
 nook, and the air around his grave is filled with sighs from 
 those who mourn that so pure a star of poetry should have 
 been blotted out before it reached its meridian. I plucked 
 a leaf from the fragrant bay, as a token of his fame, and a 
 gprig of cypress from the bough that bent lowest over his 
 gra^e ; and passing between tombs shaded with blooming 
 
 18* 
 
418 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 roses, or covered with unwithered garlands, left the lovely 
 spot. 
 
 Amid the excitement of continually changing scenes, I 
 have forgotten to mention our first visit to the Coliseum, 
 The day after our arrival we set out with two English 
 friends, to see it by sunset. Passing by the glorious foun 
 tain of Trevi, we made our way to the Forum, and from 
 thence took the road to the Coliseum, lined on both sides 
 with the remains of splendid edifices. The grass-grown 
 ruins of the Palace of the Caesars stretched along on our 
 right ; on our left we passed in succession the granite front 
 of the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, the three grand 
 arches of the Temple of Peace and the ruins of the Temple 
 of Venus and Rome. We went under the ruined triumphal 
 arch of Titus, with broken friezes representing the taking of 
 .Jerusalem, and the mighty walls of the Coliseum gradually 
 rose before us. They grew in grandeur as we approached 
 them, and when at length we stood in the centre, with the 
 shattered arches and grassy walls rising above and beyond 
 one another, far around us, the red light of sunset giving 
 them a soft and melancholy beauty, I was fain to confess 
 that another form of grandeur had entered my mind, of 
 which I knew not before. 
 
 A majesty like that of nature clothes this wonderful edi 
 fice. Walls rise above walls, and arches above arches from 
 every side of the grand arena, like a sweep of craggy, pin 
 nacled mountains around an oval lake. The two outer cir 
 cles have almost entirely disappeared, torn away by the ra 
 pacious nobles of Eome, during the middle ages, to build 
 their palaces. When entire, and filled with its hundred 
 
THE COLISEUM AT SUNSET. 419 
 
 thousand spectators, it must have exceeded any pageant 
 which the world can now produce. While standing in the 
 arena, impressed with the spirit of the scene around me, 
 which grew more spectral and melancholy as the dusk of 
 evening began to fill up the broken arches, my eye was as 
 sailed by the shrines ranged around the space, doubtless to 
 remove the pollution of paganism. In the centre stands 
 also a cross, with an inscription, granting an absolution of 
 forty days to all who kiss it. Now, although a simple cross 
 in the centre might be very appropriate, both as a token of 
 the heroic devotion of the martyr Telemachus and the 
 triumph of a true religion over the barbarities of the Past, 
 this congregation of shrines and bloody pictures mars very 
 much the unity of association so necessary to the perfect 
 enjoyment of any such scene We saw the flush of sunset 
 fade behind the Capitoline Hill, and passed homeward by 
 the Forum, as its shattered pillars were growing solemn and 
 spectral in the twilight. 
 
 In the Via de Pontefici, not far distant from the Borghese 
 Palace, we saw the Mausoleum of Augustus. It is a large 
 circular structure somewhat after the plan of that of Hadrian, 
 but on a much smaller scale. The interior has been cleared 
 out, seats erected around the walls, and the whole is now a 
 summer theatre, for the amusement of the peasantry and 
 tradesmen. What a commentary on greatness ! Harlequin 
 playing his pranks in the tomb of an Emperor, and the 
 spot which nations approached with reverence, resounding 
 with the mirth of beggars and degraded vassals ! 
 
 I was in the studio of Crawford, the sculptor , he has at 
 present nothing finished in the marble. There were many 
 
420 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 casts of his former works, which, judging from their appear 
 ance in plaster, must be of no common excellence for the 
 sculptor can only be justly judged in marble. I saw some 
 fine bas-reliefs of classical subjects, and an exquisite group 
 of Mercury and Psyche, but his masterpiece is undoubtedly 
 the Orpheus. The face is full of the inspiration of the poet, 
 softened by the lover s tenderness, and the whole fervor of 
 his soul is expressed in the eagerness with which he gazes 
 forward, on stepping past the sleeping Cerberus. 
 
 We are often amused with the groups in the square of the 
 Pantheon, which we can see from our chamber window. 
 Shoemakers and tinkers carry on their business along the 
 sunny side, while the venders of oranges and roasted chest 
 nuts form a circle around the Egyptian obelisk and fountain. 
 Across the end of an opposite street we get a glimpse of the 
 vegetable market, and now and then the shrill voice of a 
 pedlar makes its nasal solo audible above the confused chorus. 
 As the beggars choose the Corso, St. Peter s, and the ruins 
 for their principal haunts, we are now spared the hearing 
 of their lamentations. Every time we go out we are 
 assailed with them. " Maladetta s a la vostra testa f" 
 Curses be upon your head!" said one whom I passed 
 without notice. The priests are, however, the greatest beg 
 gars. In every church are kept offering-boxes, for the sup 
 port of the church or some unknown institution ; they even 
 go from house to house, imploring support and assistance in 
 the name of the Virgin arid all the saints, Avhile their bloat 
 ed, sensual countenances and capacious frames tell of any 
 thing but fasts and privations. Once, as I was sitting among 
 the ruins, I was suddenly startled by a loud, rattling sound/ 
 
THE TRATTORIA DEL SOLE. 42 J 
 
 turning my head, I saw a figure clothed in white from head 
 to foot, with only two small holes for the eyes. He held in 
 his hand a money-box, on which was a figure of the Virgin, 
 which he held close to my lips, that I might kiss it. This I 
 declined doing, but dropped a baiocco into his box, when 
 making the sign of the cross, he silently disappeared. 
 
 Our present lodging (Trattoria del Sole) is a good speci 
 men of an Italian inn for mechanics and common tradesmen 
 Passing through the front room, which ip an eating-place for 
 the common people with a barrel of wine in the corner, 
 and bladders of lard hanging among orange boughs in the 
 window we enter a dark court-yard filled with heavy carts, 
 and noisy with the neighing of horses and singing of grooms, 
 for the stables occupy part of the house. An open staircase, 
 running all around this hollow square, leads to the second, 
 third, and fourth stories. On the second story is the dining- 
 room for the better class of travellers, who receive the same 
 provisions as those below for double the price, and the ad 
 ditional privilege of giving the waiter two baiocchi. The 
 sleeping apartments are in the fourth story, and are named 
 according to the fancy of a former landlord, in mottos above 
 each door. Thus, on arriving here, the Triester, with his 
 wife and child, more fortunate than our first parents, took 
 refuge in " Paradise/ while we Americans were ushered 
 into the " Chamber of Jove." We have occupied it ever 
 since, and find a paul (ten cents) apiece cheap enough for a 
 good bed and a window opening on the Pantheon 
 
 I have been now several days loitering and sketching 
 among the ruins, and I feel as if I could willingly wander 
 for months beside these mournful relics, and draw inspiration 
 
422 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 from the lofty yet melancholy lore they teach. There is a 
 spirit haunting them, real and undoubted. Every shattered 
 column, every broken arch and mouldering wall, but calls 
 up more vividly to mind the glory that has passed away. 
 Each lonely pillar stands as proudly as if it still helped to 
 bear up the front of a glorious temple, and the air seems 
 scarcely to have ceased vibrating with the clarions that 
 heralded a conqueror s triumph. 
 
 I have seen the flush of morn and eve rest on the Coli 
 seum , I have seen the noon-day sky framed in its broken 
 loopholes, like plates of polished sapphire ; and last night, 
 as the moon has grown into the zenith, I went to view it 
 with her. Around the Forum all was silent and spectral 
 a sentinel challenged us at the Arch of Titus, under which 
 we passed, and along the Caesar s wall, which lay in black 
 shadow. Dead stillness brooded around the Coliseum ; the 
 pale, silvery lustre streamed through its arches, and over 
 the grassy walls, giving them a look of shadowy grandeur 
 which day could not bestow. The scene will remain fresh 
 in my memory for ever. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 TIVOLI AND THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA. 
 
 Excursion to Tivoli A Sulphur Bath The Temple of the Sibyl A Windy Night- 
 Th Cascade of the Anio The Cascatelles The Campagna Museum of the 
 Capitol The Dying Gladiator Ruins on the Campagna Toinb of Cecilia Metella 
 The Aqueducts Egeria s Grotto The Villa Borghese Tasso s Tomb Passport 
 Fees in Italy The Turning Point of the Pilgrimage Farewell ! 
 
 ROME, Jan. 9, 1846. 
 
 A FEW days ago we made an excursion to Tivoli, one of the 
 loveliest spots in Italy. We left the Eternal City by the 
 Gate of 8an Lorenzo, and twenty minutes walk brought 
 us to the bare and bleak Campagna, which was spread 
 around us for leagues in every direction. Here and there a 
 shepherd-boy in his woolly coat, with his flock of browsing 
 sheep, were the only objects that broke its desert-like 
 monotony. At the fourth mile we crossed the rapid Teve- 
 rone, the ancient Anio, formerly the boundary between 
 Latium and the Sabine dominions, and at the tenth, came 
 upon some fragments of the old Tiburtine way, formed of 
 large irregular blocks of basaltic lava. A short distance 
 further we saw across the plain the ruins of the bath of 
 
424 VIEWS A-FOOT, 
 
 Agrippa, built by the side of the Tartarean Lake. The 
 wind, blowing from it, bore to us an overpowering smell of 
 sulphur ; the waters of the little river Solfatara, which 
 crosses the road, are of a milky blue color, and carry those 
 of the lake into the Anio. Finding the water quite warm, 
 we determined to have a bath. So we ran down the plain, 
 which was covered with a thick coat of sulphur, and sounded 
 hollow to our tread, until we reached a convenient place, 
 where we threw off our clothes, and plunged in. The warm 
 wave was delightful to the skin, but extremely offensive to 
 the smell, and when we came out, our mouths and throats 
 were filled with the stifling gas. 
 
 It was growing dark as we mounted through the narrow 
 streets of Tivoli, but we endeavored to gain some sight of 
 the renowned beauties of the spot, before going to rest. 
 From a platform on a brow of the hill, we looked down into 
 the defile, at the bottom of which the Anio was roaring, and 
 caught a sideward glance of the Cascatelles, sending up 
 their spray amid the evergreen bushes that fringe the rocks. 
 Above the deep glen that curves into the mountain, stands 
 the beautiful temple of the Sibyl a building of the most 
 perfect and graceful proportion. It crests the rocky brow 
 like a fairy dwelling, and looks all the lovelier for the wild 
 caverns below. Grazing downward from the bridge, one 
 sees the waters of the Anio tumbling into the picturesque 
 grotto of the Sirens ; around a rugged corner, a cloud of 
 white spray whirls up continually, while the boom of a 
 cataract rumbles down the glen. All these we marked in 
 the deepening dusk, and then hunted an albergo. 
 
 The shrill -voiced hostess gave us a good supper and clean 
 
THE CASCADE OF THE ANIO. 425 
 
 beds ; and in return we diverted the people very much by 
 the description of our sulphur bath. We were awakened in 
 the night by the wind shaking the very soul out of our loose 
 casement. I fancied I heard torrents of rain dashing against 
 the panes, and groaned in bitterness of spirit on thinking of 
 a walk back to Rome in such weather. When the morning 
 came, we found it was only a hurricane of wind which was 
 strong enough to tear off pieces of the old roofs. I saw some 
 capuchins nearly overturned in crossing the square, by the 
 wind seizing their wide robes. 
 
 I had my fingers frozen and my eyes filled with sand, in 
 trying to draw the Sibyl s temple, and therefore left it to 
 join my companions, who had gone down into the glen to 
 see the great cascade. The Anio bursts out of a cavern in 
 the mountain-side, and like a prisoner giddy with recovered 
 liberty, reels over the edge of a precipice more than two 
 hundred feet deep. The bottom is hid in a cloud of boiling 
 spray, which shifts from side to side, and driven by the wind, 
 sweeps whistling down the narrow pass. It stuns the ear 
 with a perpetual boom, giving a dash of grandeur to the 
 enrapturing beauty of the scene. I tried a foot-path that 
 appeared to lead down to the Cascatelles, but after advanc 
 ing some distance along the side of an almost perpendicular 
 precipice, I came to a corner that looked so dangerous, espe 
 cially as the wind was nearly strong enough to carry me of!, 
 that it seemed safest to return. We made another vain 
 attempt to get down, by creeping along the bed of a torrent, 
 filled with briars. The Cascatelles are formed by that part 
 of the Anio which is used in the iron works, made out of the 
 ruins of Mecsenas villa. They gush out from under the 
 
426 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ancient arches, and tumble more than a hundred feet down 
 the precipice, their white waters gleaming out from the dark 
 and feathery foliage. Not far distant are the remains of the 
 villa of Horace. 
 
 On our return to Rome we took the road to Frascati, and 
 walked for miles among cane-swamps and over plains cover 
 ed with sheep. The people we saw, were most degraded 
 and ferocious-looking, and there were many I would not 
 willingly meet alone after nightfall. Indeed it is still con 
 sidered quite unsafe to venture without the walls of Rome, 
 after dark. The women, with their yellow complexions, 
 and the bright red blankets they wear folded around the 
 head and shoulders, resemble Indian squaws. 
 
 I lately spent three hours in the Museum of the Capitol, 
 on the summit of the sacred hill. In the hall of the Gladia 
 tor I noticed an exquisite statue of Diana. The Faun of 
 Praxiteles, in the same room, is a glorious work ; it is the 
 perfect embodiment of that wild, merry race the Grecian 
 poets dreamed of. One looks on the Gladiator with a hushed 
 breath and an awed spirit. He is dying ; the blood flows 
 more slowly from the deep wound in his side ; his head is 
 sinking downwards, and the arm that supports his body 
 becomes more and more nerveless. You feel that a dull 
 mist is coming over his vision, and wait to see his relaxing 
 limbs sink suddenly on his shield. That the rude, barba 
 rian form has a soul, may be read in his touchingly expres 
 sive countenance. It warms the sympathies like reality to 
 look upon it. Yet how many Romans may have gazed on 
 this work, moved nearly to tears, who have seen hun 
 dreds perish in the arena without a pitying emotion ! Why 
 
KUINS ON THE CAMPAGNA. 427 
 
 is it that Art has a voice frequently more powerful than 
 Nature ? 
 
 Two days ago we took a ramble outside the walls. Pass 
 ing the Coliseum and Caracalla s Baths, we reached the 
 tomb of Scipio, a small sepulchral vault, near the roadside. 
 The ashes of the warrior were scattered to the winds long 
 ago, and his mausoleum is fast falling to decay. The old 
 arch over the Appian way is still standing, near the modern 
 Porta San Sebastiano, through which we entered on the far- 
 famed road. Here and there it is quite entire, and we walk 
 ed over the stones once worn by the feet of Virgil and 
 Horace and Cicero. After passing the temple of Romulus 
 a shapeless and ivy-grown ruin and walking a mile or 
 more beyond the walls, we reached the Circus of Caracalla, 
 whose long and shattered walls fill the hollow of one of the 
 little dells of the Campagna. The original structure must 
 have been of great size and splendor, but those twin Van 
 dals Time and Avarice have stripped away everything 
 but the lofty brick masses, whose nakedness the pitying ivy 
 strives to cover. 
 
 Further, on a gentle slope, is the tomb of " the wealthiest 
 Roman s wife," familiar to every one through Childe Har 
 old s musings. It is a round, massive tower, faced with large 
 blocks of marble, and still bearing the name of Cecilia 
 Metella. One side is much ruined, and the top is overgrown 
 with grass and wild bushes. The wall is about thirty feet 
 thick, so that but a small round space is left in the interior, 
 which is open to the rain, and filled with rubbish. The echoes 
 pronounced hollowly after us the name of the dead for whom it 
 was built, but they could tell us nothing of her life s history, 
 
428 VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 I made a hurried drawing of it, and we then turned to 
 the left, across the Campagna, to seek the grotto of Egeria. 
 Before us, across the brown plain, extended the Sabine 
 Mountains; in the clear air the houses of Tivoli, twenty 
 miles distant, were plainly visible. The giant aqueduct 
 stretched in a long line across the Campagna to the moun 
 tain of Albano, its broken and disjointed arches resembling 
 the vertebrae of some mighty monster. With the ruins of 
 temples arid tombs strewing the plain for miles around it, 
 it might be called the spine of the skeleton of Rome. 
 
 We passed many ruins, made beautiful by the clinging 
 ivy, and reached a solemn grove of evergreen oak, overlook 
 ing a secluded valley. I was soon in the meadow, leaping 
 ditches, rustling through cane-brakes, and climbing up to 
 mossy arches to find the fountain of Numa s nymph, while 
 my companion, who had less taste for the romantic, looked 
 on complacently from the leeward side of the hill. At 
 length we found an arched vault in the hill side,, overhung 
 with wild vines, and shaded in summer by umbrageous trees 
 which grow on the soil above. At the further end a stream 
 of water gushed out from beneath a broken statue, and an 
 aperture in the wall revealed a dark cavern behind. This, 
 then, was " Egeria s grot." The ground was trampled by 
 the feet of cattle, and the taste of the water was anything 
 but pleasant. I tried to creep into the grotto, but it was 
 unpleasantly dark, and no nymph appeared to chase away 
 the shadow with her lustrous eyes. 
 
 I went afterwards to the Villa Borghese, outside the Porto 
 del Popolo. The gardens occupy thirty or forty acres, and 
 are always thronged in the afternoon with the carriages of 
 
THE TOMB OF TASSO. 42D 
 
 the Roman and foreign nobility. In summer, it must be a 
 heavenly place ; even now, with its musical fountains, long 
 avenues, and grassy slopes crowned with the fan-like branches 
 of the Italian pine, it reminds one of the fairy landscapes of 
 Boccaccio. We threaded our way through the press of car 
 riages on the Pincian hill, and saw the enormous bulk of 
 St. Peter s loom up against the sunset sky. I counted forty 
 domes and spires in that part of Rome which lay below us 
 but on what a marble glory looked that sun eighteen centu 
 ries ago ! Modern Rome it is, in comparison, a den of filth, 
 cheats and beggars ! 
 
 Yesterday, while taking a random stroll through the city, 
 I visited the church of St. Onofrio, where Tasso is buried. 
 It is not far from St. Peter s, on the summit of a lonely hill. 
 The building was closed, but an old monk admitted us on 
 application. The interior is quite small, but very old, and 
 the floor is covered with the tombs of princes and prelates 
 of a past century. Near the end I found a small slab with 
 the inscription : " TORQ.UATI TASSI : OSSA : me JACENT." 
 That was all but what more was needed ? Who knows 
 not the name and fame and sufferings of the glorious bard ? 
 The pomp of gold and marble are not needed to deck the 
 slumber of genius. On the wall, above, hangs an old and 
 authentic portrait of him, very similar to the engravings in 
 circulation. A crown of laurel encircles the lofty brow, 
 and the eye has that wild, mournful expression which ac 
 cords so well with the mysterious tale of his love and 
 madness. 
 
 Owing to the mountain storms, which imposed on us the 
 expense of a carriage-journey to Rome, we shall be prevent- 
 
430 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ed from going further. One great cause of this is the heavy 
 fee required for passports in Italy. In most of the Italian 
 cities, the cost of the different vises amounts to $4 or $5 ; 
 and a few such visits as these reduce our funds very materi 
 ally. The American Consul s fee is $2, owing to the illibe 
 ral course of our government, in withholding all salary from 
 her Consuls in Europe. Mr. Brown, however, in whose 
 family we spent last evening very pleasantly, on our request 
 ing that he would deduct something from the usual fee, 
 kindly declined accepting anything. We felt this kindness 
 the more, as from the character which some of our late Con 
 suls bear in Italy, we had not anticipated it. We shall re 
 member him with deeper gratitude than many would sup 
 pose, who have never known what it is to be a foreigner. 
 
 To-morrow, therefore, we leave Rome here is, at last, 
 the limit of our wanderings. We have endured much toil 
 and privation to reach here, and now, after two weeks 
 rambling and musing among the mighty relics of past glory, 
 we turn our faces homeward. The thrilling hope I cherish 
 ed during the whole pilgrimage to climb Parnassus and 
 drink from Castaly, under the blue heaven of Greece to 
 sigh for fallen Art, beneath the broken friezes of the Par 
 thenon, and look with a pilgrim s eye on the isles of Homer 
 and Sappho must be given up, unwillingly and sorrowfully 
 though it be. These glorious anticipations among the 
 brightest that blessed my boyhood are slowly wrung from 
 me by stern necessity. Even Naples, the lovely Parthenope, 
 where the Mantuan bard sleeps on the sunny shore, by the 
 bluest of summer seas, with the disinterred Pompeii beyond, 
 and Paestum amid its roses on the lonely Calabrian plain 
 
FAREWELL! 431 
 
 even this, almost within sight of the cross of St. Peter s, is 
 barred from me. Farewell then, since it must be I Fare 
 well Greece, that I shall not see and, Rome, for all thon 
 hast taught me, take in return a pilgrim s blessing I 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE MEDITERRANEAN IN WINTER. 
 
 3eparture from Eome The Campagna The Shore of the Mediterranean Civita 
 Vecehia The handsome Sailor Disadvantage of not being Servants Embarking 
 Sleeping on Deck Elba and Corsica by Moonlights-Second Night on the Deck 
 A Eainy Day at Genoa A Stormy Night A Sailor s Compassion The Coast 
 of France Approach to Marseilles The Two Servants Marseilles Our Circum 
 stances. 
 
 MARSEILLES, January 16, 1846. 
 
 WE repacked our knapsacks on the morning of the 10th, 
 bade adieu to the two young Englishmen, and the tal! 3 mys 
 terious Swede, who had been our only companions in Rome, 
 and started on foot for Civita Vecchia. When we emerged 
 from the cool alleys of the city, and began to climb up and 
 down the long, barren swells of the Campagna, the sun beat 
 down on us with almost a summer heat. On crossing a ridge 
 near Castel Guido, we took our last look at Rome, and saw 
 from the other side the sunshine lying like a dazzling belt 
 an the far Mediterranean, The country is one of the most 
 wretched that can be imagined Miles and miles of uncul 
 tivated land, with scarcely a single habitation, extend OP 
 
THE SHORE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 433 
 
 either side of the road, and the few shepherds who watch 
 their flocks in the marshy hollows, look wild and savage 
 enough for any kind of crime. It made me shudder to see 
 every face bearing such a villanous stamp. 
 
 We made twenty -five miles, and spent the night at the 
 village of Palo, on the sea-shore. Rising early, we walked 
 in the cool of the morning beside the blue Mediterranean. 
 On the right, the low outposts of the Appenines rose, bleak 
 and brown, the narrow plain between them and the shore 
 resembling a desert, so destitute was it of the signs of civil 
 ized life. A low, white cloud that hung over the sea, afar 
 off, showed us the locality of Sardinia, although the land was 
 not visible. The sun shone down warmly, and with the blue 
 sky and bluer sea we could easily have imagined a milder 
 season. The barren scenery took a new interest in my eyes, 
 when I remembered that the day on which I saw it completed 
 my twenty -first year. In the afternoon we found a beautiful 
 cove in a curve of the shore, and went to bathe in the cold 
 surf. It was very refreshing, but not quite equal to the 
 sulphur-bath on the road to Tivoli. The mountains now ran 
 closer to the sea, and the road was bordered with thickets 
 of myrtle. I stopped often to beat my staff into the bushes, 
 and inhale the fragrance that arose from their crushed 
 leaves. 
 
 The sun was sinking in a sky of orange and rose, as Civita 
 Vecchia came in sight on a long headland before us. Be 
 yond the sea stretched the dim hills of Corsica. We walked 
 nearly an hour in the clear moonlight, by the sounding shore, 
 before the gate of the city was reached. We found a cheap 
 inn called La Stella, where fleas and dirt were plentiful, but 
 
 19 
 
434 TIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 our rapidly declining means made us blind to discomfort. Be 
 sides, there was a handsome Italian sailor at the inn, who 
 treated me with the greatest kindness, and to whom I took 
 a strong liking. He devoted himself to making me as com 
 fortable as the place would allow, and in spite of our despe 
 rate circumstances, his bright, honest, affectionate face made 
 me entirely happy. 
 
 About the old town of Civita Vecchia there is not much 
 to be said, except that it has the same little harbor which 
 Trajan dug for it, and is as dirty and disagreeable as a town 
 can well be. We saw nothing except a little church, and 
 the prison-yard, full of criminals, where the celebrated ban 
 dit, Grasparoni, has been confined for eight years. 
 
 The Neapolitan Company s boat, Mongibello, was adver 
 tised to leave on the 12th, so, after procuring our passports, 
 we went to the office to take passage. The official, however, 
 refused to give us tickets for the third place, because, for 
 sooth, we were not servants or common laborers ! and words 
 were wasted in trying to convince him that it would make 
 no difference. As the second cabin fare was nearly three 
 times as high, and would have exhausted all our money at 
 once, we went to the office of the Tuscan Company, whose 
 boat was to leave in two days. Through the influence of an 
 Italian gentleman, whom we accidentally met in the street, 
 the agent agreed to take us for forty-five francs, on deck, 
 the fare on the Neapolitan boat being thirty. 
 
 Rather than stay two days longer in the dull town, we 
 went again to the latter Company s office and offered forty- 
 five francs to go that day in their boat. This removed the 
 former scruples, and tickets were immediately made out 
 
SLEEPING ON DECK. 435 
 
 After a plentiful dinner at the albergo, to prepare ourselves 
 for the exposure, we filled our pockets with a supply of 
 bread, cheese, and figs, for the voyage. We then engaged 
 a boatman, who agreed to row us out to the steamer for two 
 pauls, but after he had us on board and an oar s length from 
 the quay, he said two pauls apiece was his bargain. The 
 other boatmen took his part, and as our kind sailor friend 
 was not there, we were obliged to pay. 
 
 The hour of starting was two o clock, but the boat lay 
 quietly in the harbor until four, when we glided out on the 
 open sea, and went northward, with the blue hills of Corsica 
 far on our left. A gorgeous sunset faded away over the 
 water, and the moon rose behind the low mountains of the 
 Italian coast. Having found a warm and sheltered place 
 near the chimney, I drew my hat further over my eyes, to 
 keep out the moonlight, and lay down on the deck with my 
 knapsack under my head. It was a hard bed, indeed ; and 
 the first time I attempted to rise, I found myself glued to 
 the floor by the pitch which was smeared along the seams 
 of the boards ! Our fellow-sufferers were a company of 
 Swiss soldiers going home after a four years service under 
 the King of Naples, but they took to their situation more 
 easily than we. 
 
 Sleep was next to impossible, so I paced the deck occa 
 sionally, looking out on the moonlit sea and the dim shores 
 on either side. A little after midnight we passed between 
 Elba and Corsica. The dark crags of Elba rose on our 
 right, and the bold headlands of Napoleon s isle stood oppo 
 site, at perhaps twenty miles distance. There was some 
 thing dreary and mysterious in the scene, viewed at such a 
 
436 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 time the grandeur of his career, who was born on one and 
 exiled to the other, gave it -a strange- and thrilling interest. 
 
 We made the light-house before the harbor of Leghorn at 
 dawn, and by sunrise were anchored within the mole. I sat 
 on the deck the whole day, watching the picturesque vessels 
 that skimmed about with their lateen sails, and wondering 
 how soon the sailors, on the deck of a Boston brig anchored 
 near us, would see my distant country. Leaving at four 
 o clock we dashed away, along the mountain coast of Car 
 rara,, at a rapid rate. The wind was strong and cold, but I 
 lay down behind the boiler, and though the boards were as 
 hard as ever, slept two or three hours. When I awoke at 
 half-past two in the morning, after a short rest, Genoa was 
 close at hand. We glided between the two revolving lights 
 on the mole, into the harbor, with the amphitheatre on which 
 the superb city sits, dark and silent around us. It began 
 raining soon, the engine-fire sank down, and as there was 
 no place of shelter, we were shortly wet to the skin. How 
 long those dreary hours seemed, until the dawn came ! All 
 was cold and rainy and dark, and we waited in a kind of 
 torpid misery for daylight. I passed the entire day, sitting 
 in a coil of rope under the eaves of the cabin, and even the 
 beauties of the glorious city scarce affected me. We lay 
 opposite the Doria palace, and the constellation of villas and 
 towers still glittered along the hills ; but who, with his teeth 
 chattering and limbs numb and damp, could feel pleasure in 
 looking on Elysium itself ? 
 
 We got under way again at three o clock. The rain very 
 soon hid the coast from view, and the waves pitched our 
 boat about in a most violent and disagreeable manner. I 
 
431 
 
 soon experienced sea-sickness in all its horrors. We had 
 accidentally made the acquaintance of one of the sailors, a 
 swarthy Neapolitan, who had been in America. He was 
 one of those rough, honest natures which abound in his class 
 tender-hearted as women, with all their rudeness and pro 
 fanity. As we were standing by the chimney, wet, cold and 
 sick, reflecting dolefully how we should pass the coming 
 night, he came up and said ; " I am in trouble about you, 
 poor fellows ! I don t think I shall sleep three hours to 
 night, for thinking of you. I shall tell the officers to give 
 you beds. They should see you are gentlemen, and 1 will 
 tell them so !" The noble fellow was as good as his word. 
 I knew not what he said or did, but in half an hour a ser 
 vant called us into the second cabin, gave us first some warm 
 soup, and then pointed out our berths. 
 
 I turned in with a feeling of relief not easily imagined, and 
 forgave the fleas willingly, in the comfort of a shelter from 
 the storm. When I awoke, it was broad day. A fresh 
 breeze was drying the deck, and the sun was half-visible 
 among breaking clouds. We had just passed the Isle of the 
 Titan, one of the Isles des Hye ex, and the bay of Toulon 
 opened on our right. It was a rugged, rocky coast, but the 
 hills of sunny Provence rose beyond. The sailor came up 
 with a smile of satisfaction on his rough countenance, shook 
 hands with us heartily, and said : " Ah, you slept last night, 
 t think ! I told the officers, every one of them, and they 
 would be cursed rascals not to give beds to you gentlemen !" 
 
 We ran along, beside the brown, bare crags, until nearly 
 noon, when we reached the eastern point of the Bay of Mar- 
 leilles. A group of small islands, formed of bare rocks- 
 
438 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 rising in precipices three or four hundred feet high, guards 
 the point ; on turning into the Gulf, we saw on the left the 
 rocky islands of Pomegues, and If, with the castle crowning 
 the latter, in which Mirabeau was confined. The ranges of 
 hills which rose around the great bay, were spotted and 
 sprinkled over with thousands of the country cottages of the 
 Marseilles merchants, called Bastides ; the city itself was 
 hidden from view. We saw apparently the whole bay, but 
 there was no crowd of vessels, such as would befit a great 
 sea-port ; a few spires peeping over a hill, with some fortifi 
 cations, were all that was visible. At length we turned 
 suddenly aside and entered a narrow strait, between two 
 forts. Immediately a broad harbor opened before us, locked 
 in the very heart of the hills on which the city stands 
 It was covered with vessels of all nations ; on leaving the 
 boat, we rowed past the " Aristides," bearing the blue cross 
 of Greece, and I searched eagerly and found, among the 
 crowded "masts, the starry banner of America. 
 
 As we were preparing to go ashore, the servant who had 
 summoned us to the second cabin, and who had behaved 
 very civilly towards us, came up and bade us welcome to 
 Marseilles. I thanked him, whereupon the other servant, 
 who had not taken the least notice of us, laughed sneering- 
 ly. I gave the former a two-franc piece for his courtesy, 
 which stopped the other s laugh at once. He came up very 
 respectfully, and began to make some polite remarks, which 
 I answered by turning my back on him and walking off. 
 We lodged in a neat little tavern, frequented by the Pro- 
 vengal teamsters, and found it a pleasant change from the 
 Italian inns. In the evening, as we were walking on the 
 
MARSEILLES. 439 
 
 quay, we were suddenly hailed by a cheerful voice. It was 
 the Neapolitan sailor, who greeted us with an oath of delight. 
 I thanked him once more for his kindness, but he answered, 
 bluntly : "Don t say anything more about it I saw you 
 were gentlemen !" 
 
 I have rambled through all the principal parts of Mar 
 seilles, and am very favorably impressed with its appear 
 ance. Its cleanliness, and the air of life and business which 
 marks the streets, are the more pleasant after coming from 
 the dirty and depopulated Italian cities The broad avenues 
 lined with trees, which traverse its whole length, must be 
 delightful in summer. I am often reminded, by its spacious 
 and crowded thoroughfares, of our American cities. Al 
 though founded by the Phoceans, three thousand years ago, 
 it has scarcely an edifice of greater antiquity than three or 
 four centuries, and the tourist must content himself with 
 wandering through the narrow streets of the old town, ob 
 serving the Provencal costumes, or strolling among Turks 
 and Moors on the Quai d 1 Orleans. 
 
 We have been detained here a day longer than was neces 
 sary, owing to some misunderstanding about the passports. 
 This has not been favorable to our reduced circumstances, 
 for we have now but fifteen francs each left to take us to 
 Paris. Our boots, too, after serving us so long, begin to 
 show signs of failing in this hour of adversity. Although 
 we are somewhat accustomed to such circumstances, I cannot 
 help shrinking when I think of the solitary napoleon an 1 
 the five hundred miles to be travelled. Perhaps, however, 
 the coin will do as much as its great namesake, and achieve 
 for us a Marengo in the war with fate. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THROUGH PROVENCE AND UP THE RHONB. 
 
 The Hills of Provence Kainy Travel A night at Aix Provencal Scenery The 
 Mother of Soldiers Bivouac at Senas The Valley of the Sorgues Approach to 
 Vaucluse The Fountain of Vaucluse More Kain A Gleam of Sunshine Avignon 
 The Blacksmith s Shop Economical Travel The Kindness of the Poor Koman 
 Eemains at Orange Travel up the Ehone A Soldier s Camp Daybreak Scene- 
 Valence The Rhone A. Night at Vienne Approach to Lyons A Quandary- 
 Monsieur and Madame Ferrand The Mistrust of Poverty Experiences in Lyons 
 Gloomy Days Le CacMtThe Sixth Day The Letter A Plan to Borrow a Franc 
 The Kelief Excitement A Marvellous Change. 
 
 WE left Marseilles about nine o clock, on a dull, rainy morn 
 ing, for Avignon and the Rhone, intending to take in our 
 way the glen of Vaucluse. The dirty fiubourgx stretch out 
 along the road for a great distance, and we trudged through 
 them, past foundries, furnaces and manufactories, considera 
 bly disheartened with the prospect. We wound among the 
 bleak stony hills, continually ascending, for nearly Uiree 
 hours Great numbers of cabarets, frequented by the com 
 mon people, lined the roads, and we met continually trains 
 of heavily laden wagons, drawn by large mules. The coun 
 try is very wild and barren, and would have been tiresome^ 
 
RAINY TRAVEL. 441 
 
 except for the pine groves with their beautiful green foliage. 
 We got something to eat with difficulty at an inn, for the 
 people spoke nothing but the Provengal dialect, and the place 
 was so cold and cheerless we were glad to go out. again into 
 the storm. It mattered little to us, that we heard the lan 
 guage in which the gay troubadours of King Reno sang their 
 songs of love. We thought more of our dripping clothes 
 and numb, cold limbs, and would have been glad to hear in 
 stead, the strong, hearty German tongue, full of warmth and 
 kindly sympathy for the stranger. The wind swept dreari 
 ly among the hills ; black, gusty clouds covered the sky, 
 and the incessant rain filled the road with muddy pools. We 
 looked at the country chateaux, so comfortable in the 
 midst of their sheltering poplars, with a sigh, and thought 
 of homes afar off, whose doors were never closed to us. 
 
 This was all forgotten, when we reached Aix, and the 
 hostess of the Cafe d Afrique filled her little stove with fresh 
 coal, and hung our wet garments around it, while her daugh 
 ter, a pale-faced, crippled child, smiled kindly on us and 
 tried to talk with us in French. Putting on our damp, heavy 
 
 coats again, B and I rambled through the streets, while 
 
 our frugal supper was preparing. We saw the statue of the 
 Bon Roi Rene, who held at Aix his court of shepherds 
 and troubadours the dark Cathedral of St Sauveur the 
 ancient walls and battlements, and gazed down the valley 
 at the dark, precipitous mass of Mont St. Victor, at the base 
 of which Marius obtained a splendid victory over the bar 
 barians. 
 
 The shallow, elevated valleys we passed in the forenoon s 
 walk next day, were stony and barren, but covered 
 
 19* 
 
442 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 with large orchards of almond trees, the fruit of which 
 forms a considerable article of export. This district 
 borders on the desert of the Crau, a vast plain of stones, 
 reaching to the mouth of the Rhone, and almost entirely un 
 inhabited We caught occasional glimpses of its sea-like 
 waste, between the summits of the hills. At length, after 
 threading a high ascent, we saw the valley of the Durance 
 suddenly below us. The sun, breaking through the clouds, 
 shone on the mountain wall, which stood on the opposite 
 side, touching with his glow the bare and rocky precipices 
 that frowned far above the stream. Descending to the 
 valley, we followed its course towards the Rhone, with the 
 ruins of feudal bourgs crowning the crags above us. 
 
 It was dusk, when we reached the village of Senas, tired 
 with the day s march. A landlord, standing in his door, on 
 the look-out for customers, invited us to enter, in a manner 
 so polite and pressing, we could not choose but do so. This 
 is a universal custom with the country innkeepers. In a 
 little village which we passed towards evening, there was a 
 tavern with the sign : " The ^Mother of Soldiers." A portly 
 woman, whose face beamed with kindness and cheerfulness, 
 stood in the door, and invited us to stop there for the night. 
 No, mother!" I answered; "we must go much further 
 to-day." " Go, then," said she, " with good luck, my chil 
 dren ! a pleasant journey !" On entering the inn at Senas, 
 two or three bronzed soldiers were sitting by the table. My 
 French vocabulary happening to give out in the middle of a 
 consultation about eggs and onion-soup, one of them came 
 to my assistance and addressed me in German. He was from 
 Fulda, in Hesse Cassel, and had served fifteen years in Africa 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE SORGUES. 443 
 
 Two other young soldiers, from the western border of Ger 
 many, came during the evening, and one of them being part 
 ly intoxicated, created such a tumult, that a quarrel arose, 
 which ended in his being beaten and turned out of the 
 house. We all bivouacked together in the loft, and there 
 was so much noise that I got very little sleep. We met 
 every day, large numbers of recruits in companies of 
 one or two hundred, on their way to Marseilles to em 
 bark for Algiers. They were mostly youths, from sixteen 
 to i:vpnty years of age, and seemed little to forebode their 
 probable fate. 
 
 Leaving next morning at day-break, we walked on before 
 breakfast to Orgon, a little village in the corner of the 
 cliffs which border the Durance, and crossed the muddy river 
 by a suspension bridge a short distance below, to Cavaillon, 
 where the country people were holding a great market. 
 From this place a road led across the meadow-land to L Isle, 
 six miles distant. This little town is so named, because it 
 is situated on an island formed by the crystal Sorgues, 
 which flows from the fountains of Vaucluse. It is a very 
 picturesque and pretty place. Great mill-wheels, turning 
 slowly and constantly, stand at intervals in the stream, 
 whose grassy banks are now as green as in spring-time. We 
 walked along the Sorgues, which is quite as beautiful and 
 worthy to bo sung as the Clitumnus, to the end of the vil 
 lage, to take the road to Vaucluse. Beside its banks stands 
 a dirty, modern " Hotel de Petrarque ct Laure," 
 
 The bare mountain in whose heart lies the poet s solitude, 
 now rose before us, at the foot of the lofty Mont Ventoux, 
 whose summit of snows extended beyond, We left the 
 
444 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 river and walked over a barren plain, across which the wind 
 b ew most drearily. The sky was rainy and dark, and com 
 pleted the desolateness of the scene, which in no wise 
 heightened pur anticipations of the renowned glen. At 
 length we rejoined the Sorgues and entered a little green 
 valley running up into the mountain. The narrowness of 
 the entrance entirely shut out the wind, and except the roll 
 ing of the waters over their pebbly bed, all was still and 
 lonely and beautiful. The sides of the dell were covered 
 with olive trees, and a narrow strip of emerald meadow lay 
 at the bottom. It grew more hidden and sequestered as we 
 approached the little village of Vaucluse. Here, the moun 
 tain towers far above, and precipices of grey rock, many 
 hundred feet high, hang over the narrowing glen. On a 
 crag over the village are the remains of a castle ; the slope 
 below this, now rugged and stony, was once graced by the 
 cottage and garden of Petrarch. All traces of them have 
 long since vanished, but a simple column, bearing the in 
 scription, * A PETRARQUE," stands beside the Sorgues. 
 
 We ascended into the defile by a path among the rocks, 
 overshadowed by olive and wild-fig trees, to the celebrated 
 fountains of Vaucluse. The glen seems as if struck into the 
 mountain s depths by one blow of an enchanter s wand ; and 
 just at the end, where the rod might have rested in its down 
 ward sweep, is the fathomless well whose overbrimming ful 
 ness gives birth to the Sorgues. We climbed up over the 
 rnossy rocks and sat down in the grot, beside the dark, still 
 pool. It was the most absolute solitude. The rocks 
 towered above and over us, to the height of six hundred 
 feet, and the gray walls of the wild glen below shut out all 
 
THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUCLUSH. 445 
 
 appearance of life. I leaned over the rock and drank of the 
 blue crystal that grew gradually darker towards the centre, 
 until it became a mirror, and gave back a perfect reflection 
 of the crags above it. There was 110 bubbling no gushing 
 up from its deep bosom but the wealth of sparkling waters 
 continually welled over,- as from a too-full goblet. 
 
 It was with actual sorrow that I turned away from the 
 silent spot. I never visited a place to which the fancy clung 
 more suddenly and fondly. There is something holy in its 
 solitude, making one envy Petrarch the years of calm and 
 unsullied enjoyment which blessed him there. As some 
 persons, whom we pass as strangers, strike a hidden chord 
 in our spirits, compelling a silent sympathy with them, so 
 some landscapes have a character of beauty which harmo 
 nizes entirely with the mood in which we look upon them, 
 until we forget admiration in the glow of spontaneous attach 
 ment. They seem like abodes of the Beautiful, which the 
 soul in its wanderings long ago visited, and now recognises 
 and loves as the home of a forgotten dream. It was thus I 
 felt by the fountains of Vaucluse ; sadly and with weary 
 steps I turned away, leaving its loneliness unbroken as 
 before. 
 
 We returned over the plain in the wind, under the gloomy 
 sky, passed L Isle at dusk, and after walking an hour with 
 a rain following close behind us, stopped at an auberge in Le 
 Thor, where we rested our tired frames and broke our long 
 days fasting. We were greeted in the morning with a dis 
 mal rain and wet roads, as we began the march. After a 
 time, however, it poured down in such torrents, that we were 
 obliged to take shelter in a remise by the road-side, where a 
 
449 TI- 
 
 good woman who addressed us in the unintelligible Proven- 
 jal, kindled up a blazing fire to dry us. On climbing a long 
 hill, when the storm had abated, we experienced a deligbt- 
 fal surprise. Below us lay the broad valley of the Rhone, 
 its meadows looking fresh and spring-like after the rain. The 
 clouds were breaking away ; clear blue sky was visible 
 Avignon, and a belt of sunlight lay warmly along the moun 
 tains of Langnedoe. Many villages, with their tall, pictur 
 esque towers, dotted the landscape, and the groves of green 
 olive enlivened the barrenness of winter. Two or three 
 boors walk over the plain, by a road fringed with willows, 
 brought us to the gates of Avignon, 
 
 We walked aiound its picturesque turreted wall, and 
 rambled through its narrow streets, washed here and there 
 by streams which turn the old mill-wheels lazily around. 
 We elirnbed to the massive palace, which overlooks tL- 
 from its craggy seat, attesting the splendor it enjoyed, when 
 for thirty years the Papal Court was held there, and the 
 gray, weather-beaten, irregular building, resembling a pile 
 of precipitous rocks, echoed with the revels of licentious pre 
 lates. We could not enter to learn the terrible secrets of 
 -iquisition, here unveiled, but we looked up at the tow 
 er, from which the captive Uienzi was liberated at the inter 
 cession of Petrarch. 
 
 er leaving Avignon, we took the road up the Bbone 
 .yon*, turning our backs upon the rainy South. We 
 reached the village of Sorgue* by dufek, arid accepted the 
 invitation of an old darne to lodge at her inn, which proved 
 to be A blacksmith s shop ! It wa- less clea. 
 
 *ad we gat down in one corner, out of the 
 
TRAVELLING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 44T 
 
 of the | a of sparks, which flew hissing from a red-hot 
 horse-shoe, which the smith and his appro: hammer 
 
 ing. A Piedmontese pedlar, who carried the " Song of the 
 Holy St. Philonune" to sell among the peasants, came in 
 directly, and bargained for a sleep on some hay. for two sous, 
 For a bed in the loft over the shop, we were charged rive 
 sous each, which, with seven sons for supper, made our ex 
 penses for the night about eleven cents ! Our circums: . 
 demanded the greatest economy, and we began to feajr 
 whether even this spare allowance would enable us to reach 
 Lyons. Owing to a day s delay in I . s. we had left 
 
 that city with but ritteen francs each ; the incessant storms 
 of winter and the worn-out state of our shoes, which were 
 no longer proof against water or mud, prolonged our jour 
 ney considerably, so that by starting before dawn and walk 
 ing until dark, we were only able to make thirty miles a 
 day. We could always procure beds for rive sous, and as 
 in the country inns one is only charged for what he chooses 
 to order, our frugal suppers cost us but little. We purchas 
 ed bread and cheese in the villages, and made our break 
 and dinners on a bank by the roadside, or climbed the rocks 
 and sat down by the source of some trickling rill. This 
 simple tare had an excellent relish, and although we walked 
 in wet clothes from morning till night, often lying down on 
 the damp, cold earth to rest, our health was never affected. 
 It is worth all the toil and privation we havens yet under 
 gone, to gain, from actual experience, the blessed knowledge 
 that man always retains a kindness and brotherly I 
 towards his fellow that under all the weight of vice and 
 misery which a grinding oppression of soul and body brings 
 
448 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 on the laborers of earth, there still remain many bright 
 tokens of a better nature. Among the starving mountaineers 
 of the Hartz the degraded peasantry of Bohemia the 
 savage contadini of Central Italy, or the dwellers on the hills 
 of Provence and beside the swift Rhone, we almost invaria 
 bly found kind, honest hearts, and an aspiration for some 
 thing better, betokening the consciousness that such brute- 
 like, obedient existence was not their proper destiny. We 
 found few so hardened as to be insensible to a kind look or a 
 friendly word, and nothing made us forget we were among 
 strangers so much as the many tokens of sympathy which 
 met us when least looked for. A young Englishman, who 
 had travelled on foot from Geneva to Rome, enduring many 
 privations on account of his reduced circumstances, said to 
 me, while speaking on this subject : "A single word of kind 
 ness from a stranger would make my heart warm, and my 
 spirits cheerful, for days afterwards." There is not so much 
 evil in man as men would have us believe ; and it is a happy 
 comfort to know and feel this. 
 
 Leaving our little inn before day -break the next morning, 
 we crossed the Sorgues, grown muddy since its infancy at 
 Vaucluse. The road passed over broad, barren ranges of 
 hills, and the landscape was destitute of all interest, until we 
 approached Orange. This city is built at the foot of a rocky 
 height, a great square projection of which seemed to stand in 
 its midst. As we approached nearer, however, arches and 
 lines of cornice could be discerned, and we recognised it as 
 the celebrated amphitheatre, one of the grandest Roman 
 relics in the south of France. 
 
 I stood at the foot of this great fabric, and gazed up at it 
 
UP THE EHONB. 449 
 
 in astonishment. The exterior wall, three hundred and 
 thirty -four feet in length, and rising to the height of one 
 hundred and twenty -one feet, is still in excellent preserva> 
 tion, and through its rows of solid arches one looks on the 
 broken ranges of seats within. Passing through the city, we 
 came to the beautiful Roman triumphal arch, which to my eye 
 is a finer structure than that of Constantine at Rome. It is 
 built of a rich yellow marble, and highly ornamented with 
 sculptured trophies. From the barbaric shields and the letters 
 MARIO, still remaining, it has been supposed to commemorate 
 the victory of Marius over the barbarians, near Aix. 
 
 For the rest of the day the road was monotonous, though 
 varied somewhat by the tall crags of Mornas and Mont- 
 dragon, towering over the villages of the same name. Night 
 came on as the rock of Pierrelatte, at whose foot we were to 
 sleep, appeared in the distance, rising like a Gibraltar from 
 the plain, and we only reached it in time to escape the rain 
 that came down the valley of the Rhone. Next day we 
 passed several companies of soldiers on their way to Africa. 
 Near Montelimart, we lost sight of Mont Ventoux, whose 
 gleaming white crest had been visible all the way from Vau- 
 cluse, and passed along the base of a range of hills running 
 near to the river. So went our march, without particular 
 incident, until we bivouacked for the night among a company 
 of soldiers in the little village of Loriol. They were steady, 
 merry fellows, and we fraternized thoroughly. We were all 
 tired with the day s journey, and the loft, which was our 
 common sleeping-room, was quiet enough in five minutes 
 after we went to bed. 
 
 Leaving at six o clock, wakened by the trumpets whiclj 
 
450 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 called up the soldiers to their day s march, we reached th 
 river Drome at dawn, and from the bridge over its rapid 
 current, gazed at the dim, ash-colored masses of the Alps of 
 Dauphine, piled along the sky, far up the valley. The 
 coming of morn threw a yellow glow along their snowy sides, 
 and lighted up, here and there, a flashing glacier. The 
 peasantry were already up and at work, and caravans of 
 pack-wagons rumbled along in the morning twilight. We 
 trudged on with them, and by breakfast-time had made 
 some distance of the way to Valence. The road, which does 
 not approach the Rhone, is devoid of interest and tiresome, 
 though under a summer sky, when the bare vine-hills are 
 latticed over with green, and the fruit-trees covered with 
 blossoms and foliage, it may be a scene of great beauty. 
 
 Valence, which we reached towards noon, is a common 
 place city on the Rhone ; and my only reasons for traversing 
 its dirty streets in preference to taking the road, which passes 
 without the walls, were to get something for dinner, and 
 because it might have been the birth-place of Aymer de 
 Valence, the valorous Crusader, chronicled in " Ivanhoe," 
 whose tomb I had seen in Westminster Abbey. One of the 
 streets, which was marked " Rue Bayard," shows that my 
 valiant namesake the knight without fear and reproach is 
 still remembered in his native province. The ruins of his 
 chateau are still standing among the Alps near Grenoble. 
 
 In the afternoon we crossed the Lsere, a swift, muddy 
 river, which rises among the Alps of Dauphine. We saw 
 their icy range, among which is the desert solitude of the 
 Grand Chartreuse, far up the valley ; but the thick atmo 
 sphere hid the mighty Mont Blanc, whose cloudy outline, 
 
VIENNE. 451 
 
 eighty miles distant in a bee line, is visible in fair weather. 
 At Tain, we came upon the Rhone again, and walked along 
 the base of the hills which contract its current. Here, 1 
 should call it beautiful. The scenery has a wildness that 
 approaches to that of the Rhine. Winding around the 
 curving hills, the scene is constantly varied, and the little 
 willowed islets clasped in the embrace of the stream, mingle 
 a trait of softened beauty with its sterner character. 
 
 After passing the night at a village on its banks, we left it 
 again at St. Vallier, the next morning. At sunset, the spires 
 of Vienne were visible, and the lofty Mont Pilas, the snows 
 of whose riven summits feed the springs of the Loire on its 
 western side, stretched majestically along the opposite bank 
 of the Rhone. Vienne, which is mentioned by several of 
 the Roman historians under its present name, was the capital 
 of the Allobroges, and I looked upon it with a new and 
 strange interest, on calling to mind my school-boy days, 
 when I had become familiar with that warlike race, in toil 
 ing over the pages of Caesar. We walked in the mud and 
 darkness for what seemed a great distance, and finally took 
 shelter in a little inn at the northern end of the city. Two 
 Belgian soldiers, coming from Africa, were already quartered 
 there, and we listened to their tales of the Arab and the 
 Desert, while supper was preparing. 
 
 The morning of the 25th was dull and rainy ; the road, 
 very muddy and unpleasant, led over the hills, avoiding the 
 westward eurve of the Rhone, directly towards Lyons. About 
 noon, we came in sight of the broad valley in which the 
 "Rhone first clasps his Burgundian bride, the Saone, and a 
 ?loud of impenetrable coal--smoke showed us the location of 
 
452 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Lyons. A nearer approach revealed a large flat dome, and 
 some ranges of tall buildings near the river. We soon en 
 tered the suburb of La Guillotiere, which has sprung up on 
 the eastern bank of the Rhone. Notwithstanding our clothes 
 were like sponges, our boots entirely worn out, and out 
 bodies somewhat thin with nine days exposure to the wintry 
 storms in walking two hundred and forty miles, we entered 
 Lyons with suspense and anxiety But one franc apiece 
 remained out of the fifteen with which we left Marseilles. 
 
 B wrote home some time ago, directing a remittance to 
 
 be forwarded to a merchant at Paris, to whom he had a 
 letter of introduction, and in the hope that this had arrived, 
 he determined to enclose the letter in a note, stating our 
 circumstances, and requesting the merchant to forward a 
 part of the remittance to Lyons. We had then to wait at 
 least four days ; people are suspicious and mistrustful in 
 cities, and if no relief should come, what was to be done ? 
 
 After wading through the mud of the suburbs, we chose 
 a common-looking inn near the river, as the comfort of our 
 stay depended wholly on the kindness of our hosts, and our 
 experiences had taught us that there is most genuine kind 
 ness among the poorer classes. We engaged lodgings for 
 four or five days ; after dinner the. letter was dispatched, and 
 we wandered about through the dark, dirty city until night. 
 Our landlord, Monsieur Ferrand, was a rough, vigorous 
 man, with a gloomy, discontented expression ; his words 
 were few and blunt ; but a certain restlessness of manner, 
 and a secret flashing of his cold, forbidding eye, betrayed to 
 me some strong hidden excitement. Madame Ferrand was 
 kind and talkative, though passionate ; but the appearance 
 
A MISTRUSTFUL LANDLORD. 453 
 
 of the place gave me an unfavorable impression, which was 
 heightened by the thought that it was now impossible to 
 change our lodgings until relief should arrive. When bed 
 time came, a ladder was placed against a sort of high plat 
 form along one side of the kitchen ; we mounted and found 
 a bed, concealed from the view of those below by a dusty 
 muslin curtain. We lay there, between heaven and earth 
 the dirty earth of the brick floor and the sooty heaven of 
 the ceiling listening until midnight to the boisterous songs, 
 and loud, angry disputes in the room adjoining. Thus ended 
 our first day in Lyons. 
 
 Five weary days, each of them containing a month of 
 torturing suspense, succeeded. A man who has no money 
 in his pocket soon begins to suspect that he is a vagabond, 
 and fears that he shall be found out. I believe Monsieur Fer- 
 rand mistrusted us from the beginning. One night, when 
 he thought us asleep, he carefully felt our knapsacks, which 
 Madame Ferrand kept at the head of her bed, just under 
 our platform. I had a small pocket telescope, which he at 
 first took for a roll of five-franc pieces, but after much feel 
 ing decided that it was something else. I lay awake nearly 
 all night, trying to devise some plan of relief, in case no 
 money should come, but could think of nothing that was at 
 all practicable. In order to account for our stay, we pre 
 tended to have business in the city, so we wandered all day 
 long through the misty, muddy, smoky streets, taking refuge 
 in the covered bazaars when it rained heavily. We walked 
 BO incessantly up and down the same streets, that the market- 
 women knew us, and made their daily comments when we 
 appeared. The policemen knew us, too, and some of them 
 
454 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 (so TV thought) watched us. I soon became intimately ac 
 quainted with every part of Lyons, from Presqu isle Pe>- 
 racht, to Croix Rousse. I knew the contents of every shop 
 in the Bazaar, and the passage of the Hotel Dieu the title 
 of every volume in the bookstores in the Place Belcour 
 and the countenance of every boot-black and apple woman 
 on the Quais on both sides of the river. 
 
 It rained every day, and the sun was not once visible. 
 The gloom of everything around us, entirely smothered 
 that lightness of heart which made us laugh over our em 
 barrassments at Vienna. When at evening, the dull, leaden 
 hue of the clouds seemed to make the air dark and cold 
 and heavy, we walked beside the swollen and turbid Rhone, 
 under an avenue of leafless trees, the damp soil chilling our 
 feet and striking a numbness through our frames, and then 
 I knew what those must feel who have no hope in their des 
 titution, and not a friend in all the great world, who is not 
 as wretched as themselves. One night, as we were pacing 
 dismally along the Rhone, a man who was walking before 
 us, kept saying to himself: " le cachot ! lecachot /" (the dun 
 geon.) " Yes," said I, involuntarily, " we shall have either 
 the cash O ! or the cachot, before long." The man turned 
 around, shrugged his shoulders, gave a curious spring into 
 the air, snapped his fingers two or three times, and then ran 
 off, still exclaiming : " le cachot, ! le cachot /" 
 
 On the morning of the sixth day I said to B" , " this 
 morning will terminate our suspense." 1 fejt cheerfnJ in 
 spite of myself; and this was like a presentiment of coming 
 good-luck. To pass the time until nine o clock, when the 
 Post Office was opened, I climbed to the chapel 
 
A PLAN TO BORROW A FRANC. 455 
 
 on the western bank of the Saone. But at the precise min 
 ute I was at the office, where B was already in waiting. 
 
 What an intensity of suspense was crowded into those few 
 seconds, while the clerk was looking over the letters ! What 
 an electric shock of joy, when it came at last ! But the 
 postage was fourteen sous, and we had not a centime. The 
 clerk put the letter back again. Hope was more suggestive 
 than anxiety, and I instantly hit upon a plan for getting it. 
 " You know that I went out first this morning," I said to my 
 friend, " and Madame Ferrand knows it too. Go back and 
 ask if I have returned. Of course, she will say no. 
 Then tell her that I carry our common stock of money, (!) 
 that you don t know where I have gone, that there is 
 a letter in the office for you, and you can t get it. Ask 
 her to lend you a franc until you find me, when I will 
 repay it." 
 
 This was a desperate experiment, for there might be no 
 money in the letter after we got it, in which case we should 
 only have added to our difficulties. I paced up and down 
 
 the square, until B returned with the franc, my plan 
 
 having succeeded. It required a deal of courage to break 
 the seal, but then, thank God ! our suspense was over. 
 The remittance from home had reached the merchant only 
 
 the day before he received B s letter, and he enclosed 
 
 an order for part of the money on his correspondent in 
 Lyons. This providential relief gave rise to an overpower 
 ing revulsion of feeling. For my part, my nerves were 
 strung to such a pitch that not knowing what else to do, 
 I walked up to the statue of Louis XIV. in the middle of 
 the square, seized with both hands the heavy iron railing 
 
456 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 which surrounds it, and pulled until I expected to see the 
 rails give way. 
 
 After getting the money, the first thing we did (so weak is 
 human nature !) was to step into a pastry-cook s and pur 
 chase two delicate cheese-cakes, which we had heen examin^ 
 ing with hungry eyes, for five days. The market-women in 
 the square, who knew us too well, saw this unusual action, 
 and shouted with laughter. But nothing disturbed us, for 
 all mankind was changed in our eyes. The policemen 
 looked at us with calm confidence ; the cold and suspicious 
 faces of the crowd had suddenly become kind and cheerful. 
 Our own faces, too, must have shown a change, for when 
 we returned to the inn Madame Ferrand met us with a 
 friendly smile, and prepared us a much better dinner than 
 we had had before. In the afternoon we purchased new 
 shoes at a small shop in the suburbs. I gave the cobbler 
 my old pair, which he instantly flung into the street, with 
 ihe exclamation : " Us ne valent pas un sous, Monsieur *" 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO PARII. 
 
 Phe Pleasure of Rest Leaving Lyons Voyage up the Saone An Inundation The 
 Strolling Musicians and their Child Walking in Burgundy The Upland Region 
 A Drenching Storm Slow Ride to Auxerrc Miseries of a Country D ligence 
 The Bloody Seine Arrival at Paris Getting a Draft Paid Seeing Paris perforce- 
 Letters from Horn*. 
 
 PARIS, February 6. 1840. 
 
 EVERY letter of the date is traced with an emotion of joy, 
 for our dreary journey is at an end. There was a rnagic in 
 the name that revived us during anxious days, and now the 
 thought that it is all over that these walls which inclose 
 us, stand in the heart of the gay city seems almost too 
 joyful to be true. Yesterday I marked with the whitest 
 chalk, for I got out of the cramped diligence at the Barriere 
 de Charenton, and saw before me in the morning twilight, 
 the immense grey mass of Paris. I forgot my numbed and 
 stiffened frame, and every other of the thousand disagreea 
 ble feelings of diligence travelling, in the pleasure which 
 that sight afforded. 
 
 We arose in the dark at Lyons, and after bidding adieu to 
 20 
 
468 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 morose Monsieur Ferrand, traversed the silent city, and found 
 our way in the mist and gloom to the steamboat landing on 
 the Saone. The waterg were swollen much above their 
 usual level, which was favorable for the boat, as long as 
 there was room enough left to pass under the bridges. 
 After a great deal of bustle we got under way, and were 
 dashing out of Lyons, against the swift current, before day 
 break. We passed L Isle Barbe, once a favorite residence 
 of Charlemagne, and now the haunt of the Lyonnaise on 
 summer holidays, and going under the suspension bridges 
 with levelled smoke-stacks, entered the picturesque hills 
 above, which are covered with vineyards nearly to the top ; 
 the villages scattered over them have those square, pointed 
 towers, which give such a quaintness to French country 
 scenery. 
 
 The stream being very high, the meadows on both sides 
 were deeply overflowed., To avoid the strong current in the 
 centre, our boat ran along the banks, pushing aside the 
 alder thickets and poplar shoots. A little after noon, we 
 passed the large town of Macon, the birth-place of the poet 
 Lamartine. The valley of the Saone, no longer inclosed 
 among the hills, spread out to several miles in width. Along 
 the west lay in sunshine the vine-mountains of Cote d Or ; 
 among the dark clouds in the eastern sky, we could barely 
 distinguish the outline of the Jura. The waters were so 
 much swollen as to cover the plain for two or three miles. We 
 seemed to be sailing over a lake, with rows of trees spring 
 ing up out of the water, and houses and villages lying like 
 islands on its surface^ A sunset that promised better weather 
 tinged the broad brown flood, as Chalons came in sight. We 
 
STROLLING MUSICIANS AND THEIR CHILD. 4o9 
 
 squeezed through the crowd of porters and diligence men, 
 declining their kind offers, and hunted quarters to suit 
 ourselves. 
 
 We left Chalons on the morning of the 1st, in high spirits 
 at the thought that there were but little more than two hun 
 dred miles between us and Paris. In walking over the cold, 
 muddy plain, we passed a family of strolling musicians, who 
 were sitting on a heap of stones by the roadside. An ill- 
 dressed, ill-natured man and woman, each carrying a violin, 
 and a thin, squalid girl, with a tambourine, composed the 
 group. Their faces bore that unfeeling stamp, which springs 
 from depravity and degradation. When we had walked 
 somewhat more than a mile, we overtook a little girl, who 
 was crying bitterly. By her features, from which the fresh 
 beauty of childhood had not been worn, and the steel triangle 
 which was tied to her belt, we knew that she belonged to 
 the family we had passed. Her dress was thin and ragged, 
 and a pair of wooden shoes but ill protected her feet from 
 the sharp cold. I stopped and asked her why she cried, but 
 she did not at first answer. However, by questioning, I 
 found her unfeeling parents had sent her on without food ; 
 she was sobbing with hunger and cold. Our pockets were 
 full of bread and cheese which we had bought for breakfast, 
 and we gave her half a loaf, which stopped her tears at 
 once. She looked up and thanked us, smiling ; and sitting 
 down on a bank, began to eat as if half famished. 
 
 The physiognomy of this region is very singular. The 
 country seems to have originally been a vast elevated plain, 
 in which some great power has scooped out, as with a hand, 
 deep circular valleys all over its surface. In winding along 
 
460 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 the high ridges, we often looked down, on either side, into 
 such hollows, several miles in diameter, and sometimes en 
 tirely covered with vineyards. At La Rochepot, a quaint, 
 antique village, lying in the bottom of one of these dells, we 
 saw the finest ruin of the middle ages that I have met with 
 in France. We passed the night at Ivry (not the Ivry which 
 gained Henri Quatre his kingdom), and then continued our 
 march over roads which I can only compare to our country 
 roads in America during the spring thaw. In addition to 
 this, the rain commenced early in the morning arid continued 
 all day, so that we were completely wet the whole time. 
 The plains, too high and cold to produce wine, were varied 
 by forests of beech and oak, and the population was thinly 
 scattered over them in small villages. Travellers generally 
 complain very much of the monotomy of this part of 
 France, and, with such dreary weather, we could not dis 
 agree with them. 
 
 As the day wore on, the rain increased, and the sky put 
 on that dull, gray cast, which denotes a lengthened storm. 
 We were fain to stop at nightfall, but there was no inn near 
 at hand not even a hovel of a cabaret in which to shelter 
 ourselves, and, on inquiring of the wagoners, we received 
 the comfortable assurance that there was yet a league and a 
 half to the nearest stopping place. On, then, we went, with the 
 pitiless storm beating in our faces and on our breasts, until 
 there was not a dry spot left, except what our knapsacks 
 covered. We could not have been more completely satu 
 rated if we had been dipped in the Yonne. At length, 
 after two hours of slipping and sliding along in the mud 
 and wet and darkness, we reached Saulieu, and by the 
 
MISERIES OF A COUNTRY DILIGENCE. 461 
 
 warm fire, thanked our stars that the day s dismal tramp 
 was over. 
 
 By good or bad luck (I have not decided which) a vehicle 
 was to start the next morning for Auxerre, distant sixty 
 miles, and the fare being but five francs, we thought it wisest 
 to take places. It was always with reluctance that we de 
 parted from our usual mode of travelling, but, in the present 
 instance, the circumstances absolutely compelled it. 
 
 Next morning, at sunrise, we took our seats in a large 
 square vehicle on two wheels, calculated for six persons and 
 a driver, with a single horse. But, as he was fat and round 
 as an elephant, and started oft at a brisk pace, and we were 
 well protected from the rain, it was not so bad after all, 
 barring the jolts and jarred vertebrae. We drove on, over 
 the same dreary expanse of plain and forest, passing through 
 two or three towns in the course of the day, and by evening 
 had made somewhat more than half our journey. Owing to 
 the slowness of our fresh horse, we were jolted about the 
 whole night, and did not arrive at Auxerre until six o clock 
 in the morning. After waiting an hour in a hotel beside the 
 rushing Yonne, a lumbering diligence was got ready, and we 
 were offered places to Paris for seven francs. As the dis 
 tance is one hundred and ten miles, this would be considered 
 cheap fare, but I should not want to travel it again and be 
 paid for doing so. Twelve persons were packed into a box 
 not large enough for a cow. and no joiner ever dove-tailed 
 his corners tighter than did we our knees and nether extre 
 mities. It is my lot to be blessed with abundance of stature, 
 and none but tall persons can appreciate the misery of sitting 
 for hours with their joints in an immovable vice. The close- 
 
462 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ness of the atmosphere for the passengers would not permit 
 the windows to be opened for fear of taking cold combined 
 with loss of sleep, made me so drowsy that my head was 
 continually falling on my next neighbor, who, being a heavy 
 country lady, thrust it indignantly away. I would then try 
 my best to keep it up awhile, but it would droop gradually, 
 until the crush of a bonnet or a smart bump against some 
 other head would recall me, for a moment, to consciousness. 
 
 We passed Joigny, on the Yonne, Sens, with its glorious 
 old cathedral, and at dusk reached Montereau, on the Seine. 
 This was the scene of one of Napoleon s best victories, on 
 his return from Elba. In driving over the bridge, I looked 
 down on the swift and swollen current, and hoped that its 
 hue might never be darkened again so fearfully as the last 
 sixty years have witnessed. No river in Europe has such 
 an association connected with it. We think of the Danube, 
 for its majesty, of the Rhine, for its wild beauty, but of the 
 Seine for its blood ! All that night did we endure squeez 
 ing and suffocation, and no morn was ever more welcome 
 than that which revealed to us Paris. With matted hair, 
 wild, glaring eyes, and dusty and disordered clothes, we en 
 tered the gay capital, and blessed every stone upon which 
 we placed our feet, in the fulness of our joy. 
 
 In paying our fare at Auxerre, I was obliged to use a draft 
 on the banker, Rougemont de Lowenberg. The ignorant 
 conductor hesitated to change this, but permitted us to go, 
 on condition of keeping it until we should arrive. There 
 fore, on getting out of the diligence, after forty-eight hours 
 of sleepless and fasting misery, the facteur of the office went 
 with me to get it paid, leaving B to wait for us. I kne\V 
 
SEEING PARIS PERFORCE. 463 
 
 nothing of Paris, and this merciless man kept me for three 
 hours at his heels, following him on all his errands, before 
 he did mine, in that time traversing the whole length of the 
 city, in order to leave a haunch of venison at an aristocratic 
 i-esidence in the Faubourg St. Germain. Yet even combined 
 weariness and hunger could not prevent me from looking 
 with vivid interest down a long avenue, at the Column of 
 the Place Vendome, in passing, and gazing up in wonder at 
 the splendid portico of the Madeleine. But of anything else 
 I have a very faint remembrance. " You have an appetite 
 for breakfast, now, I should think ;" said he, when he re 
 turned, " we have walked more than four leagues !" 
 
 About noon we sat down quietly to a most complete break 
 fast. Our first walk was to a bath, and then, with com 
 plexions several shades lighter, and limbs that felt as if lifted 
 by invisible wings, we hurried away to the Post Office. I 
 seized the welcome missives from my far home, with a beat 
 ing heart, and hastening back, read until the words became 
 indistinct in the twilight. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 LIFE IN PARIS. 
 
 Rooms to Let A disappointed Landlord Our Apartment, ch&s Lcviribert Living on 
 a Franc a Day Amusements The Streets of Paris The Place de la Concorde 
 The Hotel des Invalides The Garden of the Tuileries What we saw The Ameri 
 can Minister An Experience of Suicide Empty Pockets again The Sick Mei 
 chant Lying in Wait The Belief I Determine to visit London. 
 
 OUR first care on reaching Paris, was to find cheap quar 
 ters, for we had a residence of at least two months in pros 
 pect, and the remittance which my friend had received 
 consisted of two hundred and eighty francs only. The inn, 
 to which we had been taken by the mercilessfacfem; was a 
 dingy place, somewhere in the Faubourg St. Antoine, fre 
 quented by Burgundian teamsters, and for the gloomy room 
 we occupied the hard-visaged landlord demanded thirty 
 francs a month. We sallied out the next morning, and after 
 inspecting a number of " chambres a louer," finally found a 
 little room at the top of a tall house in the Rue de la Harpe, 
 " chez Lambert, Coiffeur," for twelve francs a month, and 
 instantly engaged it. The Burgundian landlord thought he 
 bad uSj and was so vexed that we had slipped through his 
 
OUR APARTMENT. 465 
 
 fingers, that he charged us enormously for the few meals we 
 had had, and refused to give us our passports until we had 
 paid him. Not content with this, he assailed us with a 
 variety of coarse epithets, which I, who was boiling over 
 with rage, repaid with ironical politeness, only yielding so 
 far as to say " adieu, vieux diable /" the worst French I 
 knew when we left. 
 
 Our new abode was a box, rather than a room. We were 
 obliged to pass through M. Lambert s hair-dressing room, 
 then through Madame Lambert s apartment, then to mount 
 four flights of steep old stairs, with very dark landing-places 
 between, after which we reached the topmost story, in which 
 was our room, containing a small single bed, two chfirs, a 
 table, a washstand, and a diminutive mirror. There was 
 neither stove nor fire-place, and the only window faced the 
 north, giving us a prospect of tiled roofs and chimneys. It 
 was a bleak little den, but it seemed delightful after our 
 experience in Lyons, and the only thing that embarrassed 
 us was the excessive politeness of Monsieur and Madame 
 Lambert, which seemed misapplied to persons in our cir 
 cumstances. There was another lodger a pale young man 
 from Gascony, who was consumptive, and a hater of Louis 
 Philippe : he was very bitter and cynical, and we did not 
 cultivate his acquaintance. 
 
 Our wardrobe was by this time in such a dilapidated con 
 dition, that we found it necessary to make various pur 
 chases, which consumed so much of our funds that we 
 determined at the outset to spend no more than a franc a 
 day each, for our meals. After a number of experiments, 
 
 20* 
 
466 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 we discovered a cafe near the Pantheon, where it was pos 
 sible to get a large bowl of coffee (chicory), with a roll, for 
 six sous ; a restaurant in the Rue de la Harpe furnished us 
 with soup, " unplat " and " marmalade d* abricofs," for twelve 
 sous ; and we invested the remaining two sous in rolls and a 
 kind of fish-cake, which we purchased at the stands on the 
 quay where they were baked, and ate in the privacy of our 
 room. Our dinners, it is true, were so disguised that the 
 original materials were not always to be ascertained, and 
 our favorite " baeuf provenfal " had a flavor very suggestive 
 of horse-flesh, but there was always enough to satisfy 
 hunger, and we were content. We could not afford the 
 luxury of a French teacher, but we subscribed to a circu 
 lating library for two francs a month, and read Victor Hugo 
 and Theophile Gautier, until we became chill and numb in 
 our fireless room, when we would go forth into the streets 
 and extend our acquaintance with that out-door Parisian 
 life which is always fresh and entertaining. 
 
 What a lively little world in miniature it is ! I wonder 
 not that the French, with their exuberant gaiety of spirit, 
 should revel in its ceaseless tides of pleasure, as if it were 
 an earthly Elysium. I soon felt the influence of the cheer 
 ful atmosphere, and have rarely threaded the crowds of a 
 foreign city with so light a heart. And yet it would be 
 difficult to describe wherein consists this agreeable peculi 
 arity. You can find streets as dark and crooked and dirty 
 anywhere in Germany, and squares and gardens as gay and 
 sunny beyond the Alps, and yet they would affect you fai 
 differently. You could not, as in Paris, divest yourself of 
 
THE PLACE DE T. A COXCORDE. 467 
 
 every particle of sad or serious thought, and be content to 
 gaze for hours on the showy scene, without an idea beyond 
 the present moment. 
 
 Our favorite walk was through the Place du Carrousel 
 and the Gardens of the Tuileries, to the Place de la Con 
 corde. What is there in Europe nay, in the world equal 
 to this ? In the centre, the mighty obelisk of red granite 
 pierces the sky, on either hand showers of silver spray are 
 thrown up from splendid bronze fountains statues and pil 
 lars of gilded bronze sweep in a grand circle around the 
 Place, and on each side magnificent vistas lead the eye off. 
 and combine the distant with the near, to complete this 
 unparalleled view ! Eastward, beyond the tall trees in the 
 garden of the Tuileries, rises the long front of the Palace, 
 with the tri-color floating above ; westward, in front of us, 
 is the Forest of the Elysian Fields, with the Arc de Tri- 
 omphe nearly a mile and a half distant, looking down from 
 the end of the avenue, at the Barriere de Neuilly. To the 
 right and left are the marble fronts of the Church of the 
 Madeleine and the Chamber of Deputies, the latter on the 
 other side of the Seine. Thus the groves and gardens of 
 Paris the palace of her kings the proud monument of her 
 military glory and the masterpieces of modern French 
 architecture, are all embraced in this one superb coup d ceil. 
 
 Following the motley multitude to the bridge, I crossed 
 and made my way to the Hotel des Invalides. Along the 
 esplanade, playful companies of children were running and 
 tumbling in their sports over the green turf, which was as 
 fresh as a meadow ; while, not the least interesting feature 
 of the scene, numbers of scarred and disabled veterans, in 
 
468 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the livery of the Hospital, basked in the sunshine, watching 
 with quiet satisfaction the gambols of the second generation 
 they have seen arise. What tales could they not tell, those 
 wrinkled and feeble old men ! What visions of Marengo, 
 and Austerlitz, and Borodino, shift with a fiery vividness 
 through their fading memories ! Some may have left a limb 
 on the Libyan desert ; and the sabre of the Cossack may 
 have scarred the brows of others. They witnessed the rising 
 and setting of that great meteor, which intoxicated France 
 with such a blaze of power and glory, and now, when the 
 recollection of that wonderful period seems almost like a 
 stormy dream, they are left to guard the ashes of their 
 ancient General, brought back from his exile to rest in the 
 bosom of his own French people. It was to me a touching 
 and exciting thing, to look on those whose eyes had wit 
 nessed the filling up of such a fated leaf in the world s 
 history. 
 
 As we step out the western portal of the Tuileries, a beau 
 tiful scene greets us. We look on the palace garden, 
 fragrant with flowers and classic with bronze copies of 
 ancient sculpture. Beyond this, broad gravel walks divide 
 the flower-bordered lawns, and ranks of marble demigods 
 and heroes look down on the joyous crowd. Children troll 
 their hoops along the avenues or. skip the rope under the 
 clipped lindens, whose boughs are now tinged a pale yellow 
 by the bursting buds. The swans glide about on a pond in 
 the centre, begging bread of the bystanders, who watch a 
 miniature ship which the soft breeze carries steadily across. 
 Paris is unseen, but heard, on every side ; only the Column 
 of Luxor and the Arc de Triomphe rise blue and grand 
 
WHAT WE SAW IN PARIS. 409 
 
 above the top of the forest. What with the sound of voices, 
 the merry laughter of the children and a host of smiling 
 faces, the scene touches a happy chord in one s heart, and 
 he mingles with it, lost in pleasant reverie, until the sounds 
 fade away with the fading light. 
 
 In the course of two or three weeks these long daily ram 
 bles, which we were obliged to take in order to keep ourselves 
 warm, made us acquainted with every part of Paris, from 
 Pere la Chaise to the Bois de Boulogne, and from St Denis 
 to the Jardin des Plantes. We visited all objects of interest 
 and curiosity all the galleries of art which are open to the 
 public in short, everything which could be seen without 
 expense, except the famous Rachel, for whom we paid and 
 by whom we were repaid tenfold. We saw Louis Philippe 
 ride to St. Cloud with the Prince de Joinville and the Duke 
 de Nemours ; we witnessed the saturnalia of the Carnival 
 and the Procession of the Boeuf Gras j we tried to procure 
 admission to the Chamber of Deputies, but our notes (sent 
 in the manner prescribed) were never answered. I called 
 upon the American Minister, the Hon. William Hufus King, 
 who received me with great kindness and invited me to a 
 ball at the Legation on the 22d of February. I declined, 
 on account of lacking the necessary dress, but called upon 
 him twice afterwards and was treated with the same cordi 
 ality. With this exception, I did not make a single acquaint 
 ance during the whole of our stay in Paris. With regard 
 to the temptations of the gay city, I was safe enough. They 
 do not assail a man who is limited to a franc a day. 
 
 Towards the end of February I had a little experience, 
 which came near terminating seriously. I was preparing my 
 
470 VIKWfl A-FOOT. 
 
 letters to send home, and had written until I was thoroughly 
 chilled, when the idea of procuring a brazier of coals, such 
 as are used in Italy, came into my head. On applying to 
 Madame Lambert, she at once furnished me with the article, 
 for four sous, assuring me, in reply to my question, that the 
 coals were not made from charcoal, but from wood. I fas 
 tened the door and window tightly, in order to retain the 
 heat, placed the brazier under the table, at my feet, and re 
 sumed my letters. In about half an hour I became conscious 
 of a heavy and painful sensation in the head, which I attribut 
 ed to my cold hands and feet. The feeling increased, until 
 a sharp spike driven through my temples could scarcely 
 have given me greater pain. The paper became blurred, so 
 that I could no longer write ; a dull gray mist floated before 
 my eyes ; I dropped the pen and laid my head on the table. 
 I was fast losing consciousness, when my friend, who had 
 been out, opened the door. He at once noticed that the 
 room was filled with a stifling gas, and threw open the win 
 dow. I arose, staggered down stairs and went into the 
 streets, but, finding that I saw nothing distinctly and was 
 constantly on the point of falling, I returned to my bed, 
 which I kept for two days, before I fully recovered. If the 
 suicides by charcoal suffer in proportion as I did, their deaths 
 must be terrible. 
 
 Our resources, at last, were reduced to a few francs, and 
 
 it became necessary to find some method of relief. B 
 
 had written for another remittance, but could not expect to 
 receive it for a month to come. He determined, however, 
 to state our situation to the merchant through whom the 
 former remittance had been received, and ask for a small 
 
THE SICK MERCHANT. 47 1 
 
 advance. But the merchant was absent in the country, and 
 before his return M. Lambert presented his bill for another 
 month s rent of our room. I asked him to wait a day or 
 two, as our banker was absent, to which he replied with a 
 politeness that disconcerted me : " Tres lien, Monsieur." 
 Finally, the merchant returned and my friend called again, 
 but failed to see him : he was sick. By this time our funds 
 had dwindled to a single franc, and we could not afford to 
 lose time. My friend called on the second day, but the mer 
 chant was still sick. "Well," said he to the servant, "let 
 me speak with him." " But he is not able to speak ; his 
 
 throat is affected," was the reply ; and B returned to 
 
 me with a melancholy mistrust, more than half convinced 
 that the merchant had suspected his errand, and feigned 
 sickness to avoid seeing him. " Still," said I, " it may be 
 true. Go back and write a note, stating our circumstances, 
 send it to him and wait for an answer. This will decide 
 the matter one way or the other." He went back, and I 
 agreed to wait for him at the nearest corner. After waiting 
 ten minutes, however, I could no longer endure the suspense, 
 and resolved to secrete myself near the house, in order that 
 
 I might guess, from B s appearance as he came out, 
 
 whether he had been successful. There was a cart standing- 
 opposite the door, and I crouched behind it as if for shelter, 
 for the day was cold and rainy. I waited about ten minutes 
 longer, when the door opened and my friend issued forth. 
 His face had a wild, excited expression ; one hand was 
 clenched tightly, but as he reached the trottoir and started 
 for the street-corner, his feet were lifted as if the cobble 
 stones were red-hot under them. This was enough : I jumped 
 
472 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 up from behind the cart, rushed across the street, and slap 
 ped him on the back with a mighty shout, causing his clench 
 ed hand to open and disclose a roll of twenty five-franc 
 pieces which the good merchant (who was really ill) had 
 sent in answer to his note. 
 
 This was the last of our financial troubles in Paris. My 
 cousin, who wished to spend a month or two in the French 
 capital before going home, arrived from Heidelberg early in 
 March, and took a room near us. The season grew milder 
 and our condition became more pleasant ; but as I had order 
 ed my next remittance to be sent to London, and feared to 
 bring my friend into further difficulties, I decided to go on 
 alone to that city. My conscience reproached me for the 
 idle life I was leading. I had letters to several printers in 
 London, and hoped to be able to find employment, in case of 
 necessity I accordingly borrowed enough for the journey, 
 took what clothing my German knapsack would hold, and 
 prepared for a walk to Dieppe. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 A WALK THROUGH NORMANDY. 
 
 Leaving Paris Versailles Travel in March The Suspicions Landlord The Scenerj 
 of Normandy Rouen The Vale of the Cailly A Windy Night 1 H dl the Atlanta 
 A Night at Dieppe Crossing the Channel From Brighton to London. 
 
 AFTER a residence of five weeks, which in spite of our few 
 troubles, passed away quickly and delightfully, I turned my 
 hack on Paris. It was not regret I experienced on taking 
 my seat in the cars for Versailles, but that feeling of reluc 
 tance with which we leave places whose brightness and gaiety 
 force the mind away from serious toil. Steam, however, 
 cuts short all sentiment, and in much less time than it takes 
 to bid farewell to a German, I had whizzed passed the 
 Place d Europe, through the barrier, and was watching the 
 spires start up from the receding city, on the way to St. 
 Cloud. 
 
 At Versailles I spent three hours in a hasty walk through 
 the palace, which allowed but a bare glance at the gorgeous 
 paintings of Horace Vernet. His " Taking of Constantine " 
 1ms the vivid look of reality. The white houses shine in 
 the sun, and from the bleached earth to the blue and dazzling 
 
474 VIEWS A-Foor. 
 
 sky, there seems to hang a heavy, scorching atmosphere. 
 The white smoke of the artillery curls almost visibly off the 
 canvas, and the cracked and half sprung walls seem about 
 to topple down on the besiegers. The afternoon was some 
 what advanced by the time I had seen the palace and gar 
 dens. After a hurried dinner at a restaurant, I shouldered 
 my knapsack, and took the road to St. Germain. The day 
 was gloomy and cheerless, and I should have felt very lone 
 ly but for the thought of soon reaching England. There is 
 no time of the year more melancholy than a cold, cloudy 
 day in March ; whatever may be the delights of pedestrian 
 travelling in fairer seasons, my experience dictates that dur 
 ing winter storms and March glooms, it had better be dis 
 pensed with. However, I pushed on to St. Germain, 
 threaded its long streets, looked down from the height over 
 its magnificent tract of forest and turned westward down the 
 Seine. Owing to the scantiness of villages, I was obliged 
 to walk an hour and a half in the wind and darkness, before 
 I reached a solitary inn. As I opened the door and asked 
 for lodging, the landlady, inquired if I had the necessary 
 papers. I answered in the affirmative and was admitted- 
 While I was eating supper, they prepared their meal on the 
 other end of the small table and sat down together. They 
 fell into the error, so common to ignorant persons, of think 
 ing a foreigner could not understand them, and began talk 
 ing quite unconcernedly about me. " Why don t he take the 
 railroad ?" said the old man : " he must have very little 
 money it would be bad for us if he had none." " Oh !" 
 remarked his son, " if he had none, he would not be sitting 
 there so quiet and unconcerned." I thought there was some 
 
ROUEN VALE OF THE CAILLY. 475 
 
 knowledge of human nature in this remark. " And besides," 
 added the landlady, " there is no danger for us, for we have 
 his passport." Of course I enjoyed this in secret, and men 
 tally pardoned their suspicions, when I reflected that the high 
 roads between Paris and London are frequented by many 
 impostors, which makes the people naturally mistrustful. 
 
 I walked all the next day through a beautiful and richly 
 cultivated country. The early fruit trees were bursting into 
 bloom, and the farmers led out their cattle to pasturage in 
 the fresh meadows. The scenery must be delightful in sum- 
 mer worthy of all that has been said or sung about lovely 
 Normandy. On the morning of the third day, before reach 
 ing Rouen, I saw at a distance the remains of Chateau Gal- 
 Hard, the favorite castle of Richard Creur de Lion. Rouen 
 breathes everywhere of the ancient times of Normandy. 
 Nothing can be more picturesque than its quaint, irregular 
 wooden houses, and the low, mossy mills, spanning the 
 clear streams which rush through its streets. The Cathe 
 dral, with its four towers, rises from among the clustered cot 
 tages like a giant rock, split by the lightning and worn by 
 the rains of centuries into a thousand fantastic shapes. 
 
 Resuming my walk in the afternoon, I climbed the heights 
 west of the city, and after passing through a suburb four or 
 five miles in length, entered the vale of the Cailly. This is 
 one of the sweetest scenes in France. It lies among the 
 woody hills like a Paradise, with its velvet meadows and 
 villas and breathing gardens. The grass was starred with 
 daisies, and if I took a step into the oak and chestnut woods, 
 T trampled on thousands of anemones arid fragrant daffodils. 
 The upland plain, stretching inward from the coast, wears a 
 
476 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 different character. As I ascended, towards evening, and 
 walked over its monotonous swells, I felt almost homesick 
 beneath its saddening influence. The sun, hazed over with 
 dull clouds, gave out that cold and lifeless light which is 
 more lonely than complete darkness. The wind, sweeping 
 dismally over the fields, sent clouds of blinding dust down 
 the road, and as it passed through the forests, the myriads 
 of fine twigs made a sound as deep and grand as the roar 
 of a roused ocean. Every chink of the Norman cottage 
 where I slept, whistled most drearily, and as I looked out 
 the little window of my room, the trees were swaying in the 
 gloom, and long, black clouds scudded across the sky. 
 Though my bed was poor and hard, it was a sublime sound 
 that cradled me into slumber. Homer might have used it as 
 the lullaby of Jove. 
 
 My last day on the continent came. I arose early and 
 walked over the hills towards Dieppe. The scenery grew 
 more bleak as I approached the sea, but the low and shelter 
 ed valleys preserved the pastoral look of the interior. In 
 the afternoon, as I climbed a long, elevated ridge, over which 
 a strong northwester was blowing, I was struck with a beau 
 tiful rustic church, in one of the dells below me. While 
 admiring its neat tower I gained unconsciously the summit 
 of the hill, and on turning suddenly around, lo ! there was 
 the glorious old Atlantic stretching far before and around me ! 
 A shower was sweeping mistily along the horizon, and I 
 eould trace the white line of the breakers that foamed at 
 the foot of the cliffs. The scene came over me like a vivid 
 electric shock, and I gave an involuntary shout, which might 
 have been heard in all the valleys around. After a year 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 477 
 
 and a half of wandering over the continent, that gray ocean 
 was something to be revered and loved, for it clasped the 
 shores of my native America. 
 
 I entered Dieppe in a heavy shower, and after finding an 
 inn suited to my means and obtaining a pe mis d embarque- 
 ment from the police office, I went out to the battlements 
 and looked again on the sea. The landlord promised to call 
 me in time for the boat, but my anxiety awakened me sooner, 
 and mistaking the strokes of the cathedral bell, I dressed, 
 unlocked several doors, felt my way through dark passages, 
 and finally gained the street. When I reached the wharf 
 it was only one o clock, and no one was stirring on board 
 the boat, so that I was obliged to pace the silent, gloomy 
 streets of the town for full two hours. I watched the steamer 
 glide out on the rainy Channel, and turning into the topmost 
 berth, drew the sliding curtain and strove to keep out cold 
 and sea-sickness. But it was unavailing ; a heavy storm of 
 snow and rain rendered our passage so dreary that I did not 
 stir until we were approaching the chain pier of Brighton. 
 
 I looked out on the foggy shores of England with a feel 
 ing of relief; my tongue would now be freed from the diffi 
 cult bondage of foreign languages, and my ears be rejoiced 
 with the music of my own. After two hours delay at the 
 Custom House, I took my seat in an open car for London. 
 The day was dull and cold ; the sun resembled a milky 
 blotch in the midst of a leaden sky. I sat and shivered, as 
 we flew onward, amid the rich, cultivated English scenery. 
 At last the fog grew thicker ; the road was carri ed over the 
 tops of houses ; the familiar dome of St. Paul s stood out 
 above the spires ; and I was again in London J 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 EXPERIENCES IN LONDON. 
 
 My Circumstances Lodgings in A Idgate Visits to the Printers Illiberal Kules oi 
 the Craft Dodging a Landlord Success and Failure Happy and Penniless Visit 
 to Mr. Putnam The Mistrust of Poverty Employment at Last Life in Aldgate 
 Letters of Introduction A Breakfast with Lockhart Bernard Barton -Croly 
 Daniel O Connell, and a Temperance Meeting Trip to Greenwich The "Fun of 
 the Fair "Games in the Park Greenwich Hill Ground and Lofty Tumbling A 
 Swinging Experiment London Atmosphere A Fog Arrival of Money and 
 Friends Embarking for Home. 
 
 WHEN I got out of the third-class car in which I had ridden 
 from Brighton, and found myself, benumbed with cold, on 
 London Bridge again, my funds consisted of a franc and a 
 half just enough to pay for one night s lodging. In this 
 emergency, I remembered the coffee-house in Church Row, 
 Aldgate, where we had lodged in the summer of 1844, and 
 when the dreary day darkened into a foggy, starless night, 
 I was seated in the well-known room, smelling of ale and 
 tobacco. The landlord and his wife evidently felt some 
 curiosity concerning me, but they were respectful and asked 
 no questions. They gave me a room on the second floor, 
 looking down into Aldgate Churchyard a little room with 
 
VISITS TO THE PRINTERS. 479 
 
 a bad bed, a rickety chest of drawers and a piano of the 
 past century, the keys of which had long been silent : all for 
 a shilling a night. I did not venture to eat anything, but 
 went to bed soon and drowned my forebodings in slumber. 
 The next morning I took a slender breakfast, for which I 
 offered the franc in payment, but the landlord refused to 
 take it. " Well," said I, " I have just come from France and 
 have nothing but French money. I shall get it changed to 
 day and pay you this evening." I then went out, determin 
 ed to seek instant employment as a printer. Before leaving 
 New York, Mr. Willis had given me a note to three printers 
 of his acquaintance in London. I called upon the first of 
 these, who referred me to his foreman, who informed me 
 that although printers were in demand and were receiving 
 very good pay, the rules of the trade prohibited him from 
 employing any one who had not passed through a regular 
 apprenticeship, and could not present his indentures certify 
 ing to the fact. This, of course, I was not able to do. I 
 then, after much search, discovered the second printer to 
 whom the note was addressed, was again referred to the 
 foreman and received the same answer. At two or three 
 other printing establishments in the same street, my applica 
 tion met with a similar fate. All were willing to employ 
 me, all needed my services, but the rules of the trade pre 
 vented them : their regular journeymen would desert them, 
 rather than permit it. By this time the day was drawing 
 to a close, and I wandered back to Aldgate. On the way I 
 stopped at the Post Office, and saw that there was a letter for 
 myself advertised a letter from home but I had no money 
 to pay the postage, and went away savage and disheartened. 
 
480 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 On paying the landlord for my breakfast, he informed me 
 that it was customary to settle every day for the lodging, 
 but added : " You can pay for both days to-morrow morning, 
 if you choose." " Very well," said I, although I had not 
 enough to pay for a single night. The next morning I got 
 up early, while the master and mistress were still in bed, 
 and went into the streets, determined to find some relief 
 before returning. I was obliged to walk the raw, misty 
 thoroughfares for three hours before I could find the master- 
 printers in their offices. I called on the third and last 
 printer addressed by Mr. Willis, who gave me the same 
 answer, but referred me to another establishment, where he 
 thought I might be accepted. I went thither, and after 
 some conversation with the foreman, was told I might go to 
 work. I took off my coat, rolled up my sleeves, and was 
 getting a case in order, when I noticed that the workmen, 
 of whom there were a number, were looking at me and 
 whispering among themselves. Presently the foreman came 
 up to me arid said : " I am very sorry but you can t work 
 here. The men won t allow it, because you cannot show 
 that you have served the usual term of apprenticeship." I 
 thereupon put on my coat and went into the street again, 
 and that was all the type-setting I ever did in Europe. 
 
 By one of those curious psychological laws which have 
 never been explained by philosophers, the last chance of 
 obtaining employment was no sooner taken away from me, 
 than I became perfectly happy and contented. I had but 
 two-pence in my pocket, which I spent for some biscuits, to 
 satisfy my keen hunger, and then, as the day was rather 
 milder than usual, I wandered into St. James s Park, where 
 
INTERVIEW WITH MR. PUTNAM. 481 
 
 I sat for two or three hours, looking at the swans. 1 
 scarcely thought of my desperate situation , my mind was 
 tranquil, and a purely animal confidence in being provided 
 for, took possession of me. The thought of the letter from 
 home finally recalled me to my anxieties, and I determined 
 to crush the pride which made me blush to think of such a 
 thing, and ask some one to help me. I remembered then io 
 have heard that there was a branch of an American pub 
 lishing house in London, and by inquiring at a bookstore, 
 procured the address. In half an hour I was at Waterloo 
 Place, and found myself in the presence of Mr. Putnam. I 
 first asked for employment, but he had none to give, and 
 knew of none which I could procure. The consciousness of 
 being a vagabond (which every man feels when he is penni 
 less in a strange land) made me suppose that he looked upon 
 me as such. To my morbid mood, his manner seemed con 
 strained and mistrustful ; and I was about to turn and 
 leave, when the thought of my letter impelled me to ask the 
 loan of a sovereign. He gave it to me without hesitation, 
 but I still saw mistrust everywhere, and did not feel as 
 grateful for the kindness as I ought. 
 
 I went with rapid steps to the Post Office, secured the 
 precious letter, returned to Aldgate, paid my score, and 
 established a credit with the fat landlord, which was not 
 shaken afterwards. Mr. Putnam had requested me to call 
 the next day, when, after some conversation, he furnished 
 me with sufficient employment in his establishment to sup 
 port myself until the receipt of my final remittance. I saw 
 plainly that he made employment for me, for all that I did 
 might readily have been done by his other assistants. I 
 
 21 
 
482 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 packed up books, made out catalogues, visited all the pub 
 lishing houses in London, in order to fill orders from Ameri 
 ca, and did occasional copying. Mr. Stevens, who was 
 engaged in supplying several private libraries in New Eng 
 land, also gave me similar employment, so that I was sure 
 of the daily three shillings on which I managed to live. I 
 still remained at the Aldgate Coffee-house, in the room 
 with the silent piano. The master and mistress treated me 
 with marked respect, and never asked more than my name, 
 while I had no inclination to tell them more. The tap-room 
 was frequented by actors from low theatres, a few half- 
 starved clerks, and some sailors, and though I frequently 
 passed the evening there, for the sake of the fire, and the 
 three-days-old Times, they never annoyed me with their 
 curiosity. Sometimes their visits were prolonged far into 
 the night, and became boisterous. I was then sure to sec 
 swollen faces next morning, and the little servant-girl would 
 say, in a confidential way : " Oh, but didn t master and 
 missus fight last night ! " 
 
 As soon as I was sure of being able to live in London, I 
 delivered two letters of introduction which Mrs. Trollope 
 had given me in Florence, to her brother, Mr. Milton, and to 
 Mr. Murray, the publisher. The former received me in a 
 very friendly manner, and I spent several delightful even, 
 ings at his residence in Little Chelsea. By Mr. Murray I 
 was treated with no less kindness, and received through 
 him an invitation to breakfast one morning with Lockhart, 
 and Bernard Barton, the Quaker poet, at the house of the 
 former. Mr. Murray accompanied me thither. I was much 
 pleased with Lockhart s appearance and manners. He has 
 
A BREAKFAST WIl Fi LOCKHART 483 
 
 a noble, manly countenance in fact, the handsomest Eng 
 lish face I ever saw a quick, dark eye, and an ample fore 
 head, shaded by locks which show, as yet, but few threads 
 of gray. There is a peculiar charm in his rich, soft voice ; 
 especially when reciting poetry, it has a clear, organ-like 
 vibration, which thrills deliciously on the ear. His daughter, 
 a very lovely girl, sat at the head of the table. 
 
 Bernard Barton, who is now quite an old man, is a very 
 lively and sociable Friend. His head is gray and almost 
 bald, but there is still plenty of fire in his eyes and life in 
 his limbs. His many kind and amiable qualities endear him 
 to a large circle of literary friends. He still continues 
 writing, and within the last year has brought out a volume 
 of simple, touching " Household Verses." We went after 
 wards into Lockhart s library, which was full of interesting 
 objects. I saw the private diary of Scott, kept until within 
 a short time of his death. It was melancholy to trace the 
 gradual failing of all his energies in the very wavering of 
 the autograph. In a large volume of his correspondence, 
 containing letters from Campbell, Wordsworth, Byron, and 
 all the distinguished characters of the age, I saw Campbell s 
 " Battle of the Baltic " in his own hand. I was highly in 
 terested and gratified with the visit ; the more so, as Mr. 
 Lockhart had invited me without previous acquaintance. 
 
 I went one Sunday to the Church of St. Stephen, to hear 
 Croly, the poet. The service, read by a drowsy clerk, was 
 long and monotonous ; I sat in a side-aisle, looking up at the 
 dome, and listening to the rain which dashed in torrents 
 against the window-panes. At last, a tall, gray-haired man 
 caine down the passage. He bowed with a sad smile, so fuJJ 
 
484 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of benevolence and resignation, that it weni into my heart 
 at once, and I gave him an involuntary tribute of sympathy. 
 He has a heavy affliction to bear the death of his gallant 
 son, one of the officers who were slain in the late battle of 
 Ferozeshah. His whole manner betrayed the tokens of sub- 
 dued but constant grief. 
 
 I attended a Temperance Meeting in Exeter Hall, for the 
 purpose of hearing Daniel O Connell. There were about 
 two thousand persons present. The great Agitator was evi 
 dently not inspired by the subject, for his remarks were very 
 common-place and his manner heavy and unimpressive. 
 Nevertheless, the people cried "hear ! hear !" at the end of 
 every sentence, whether it was worth hearing or not. I 
 never saw an audience with less taste and discrimination. 
 O Connell was followed by two or three excessively stupid 
 speakers, who were listened to with solemn endurance, after 
 which a physician a man of real intelligence commenced 
 making an admirable speech, and was hooted down, for no 
 cause that I could perceive, except his want of the stupidity 
 which seemed to be so attractive. 
 
 One day in April Mr. Stevens invited me to accompany 
 him to Greenwich Fair. We took a penny steamer from 
 Hungerford Market to London Bridge, and jumped into the 
 cars, which go every five minutes. Twelve minutes ride 
 above the chimneys of London and the vegetable fields of 
 Rotherhithe and Deptford brought us to Greenwich, and we 
 followed the stream of people which was flowing from all 
 parts of th-3 city into the Park. Here began the merriment. 
 We heard on every side the noise of the " scratches," or, 
 as the venders of these articles denominated them " the 
 
SCENES IN GREENWICH PARK. 485 
 
 fun of the fair." This is a little notched wheel, with a 
 piece of wood fastened on it, like a miniature watchman s 
 rattle. The " fun " consists in drawing them down the back 
 of any one you pass, when they make a sound precisely 
 like that of ripping cloth. The women took great delight 
 in this, and as it is only deemed politeness to return the com 
 pliment, we soon had enough to do. No one seemed to take 
 the thing amiss, but it was irresistibly droll to see a large 
 crowd engaged in this singular amusement. 
 
 As we began ascending Greenwich Hill, we were assailed 
 with another kind of game. The ground was covered with 
 smashed oranges, with which the people above and below 
 were stoutly pelting each other. Half a dozen heavy ones 
 whizzed uncomfortably near my head as I went up, and I 
 saw several persons get the full benefit of a shot on their 
 backs and breasts. The young country lads and lasses 
 amused themselves by running at full speed down the steep 
 side of a hill. This was, however, a feat attended with some 
 risk ; for I saw one luckless girl describe an arc of a circle, 
 of which her feet was the centre and her body the radius. 
 All was noise and nonsense. They ran to and fro under the 
 long, hoary boughs of the venerable oaks which crest the 
 summit, and clattered down the magnificent forest-avenues, 
 whose budding foliage gave them little shelter from the pass 
 ing April showers. 
 
 The view from the top is superb. The stately Thames 
 curves through the plain below, which loses itself afar off 
 in the mist ; Greenwich, with its massive hospital, lies just 
 at one s feet, and in a clear day the domes of London skirt 
 the horizon. The wood of the Park is entirely oak the 
 
486 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 majestic, dignified, English oak which covers, in picturesque 
 clumps, the sides and summits of the two billowy hills. It 
 must be a sweet place in summer, when the dark, massive 
 foliage is heavy on every mossy arm, and the smooth and 
 curving sward shines with thousands of field flowers. 
 
 Owing to the showers, the streets were coated with mud, 
 of a consistence as soft and yielding as the most fleecy Per 
 sian carpet. Near the gate, boys were holding scores of 
 donkeys, which they offered us at threepence for a ride of 
 two miles. We walked down towards the river, and came 
 at last to a group of tumblers, who with muddy hands and 
 feet were throwing summersaults in the open street. I re 
 cognised them as old acquaintances of the Rue St. Antoine 
 and the Champs Elysees ; but the little boy who cried be 
 fore, because he did not want to bend his head and feet into 
 a ring, had learned his part better by this time, so that he 
 went through it all without whimpering and came off with 
 only a fiery red face. The exercises of the young gentle 
 men were of course very graceful and classic, and the effect 
 of their poses of strength was very much heightened by the 
 muddy foot-marks which they left on each other s orange- 
 colored skins. 
 
 The centre of the square was occupied by swings, where 
 some eight or ten boat-loads of persons were flying topsy 
 turvy into the air, making one giddy to look at them, and 
 cojistant fearful shrieks arose from the female swingers, at 
 finding themselves in a horizontal or inverted position, Ijigli 
 above the ground. One of the machines was like a great 
 wheel, with four cars attached, which mounted and de- 
 tcended with their motley freight. We got into a swinging 
 
WONDERFUL EXHIBITIONS. 487 
 
 boat by way of experiment. The starting motion was plea 
 sant, but very soon it flew with a swiftness and to a height 
 rather alarming. I began to repent having chosen such a 
 mode of amusement, but held on as well as I could, in my 
 uneasy place. Presently we mounted until the long beam 
 of the swing was horizontal ; at one instant, I saw three 
 young ladies below me, with their heads downward, then 
 I was turned heels up, looking at them. I was fast becom 
 ing sea-sick, when after a few minutes of such giddy soaring, 
 the ropes were slackened and we all got out, looking some 
 what pale, and feeling nervous, if nothing else. 
 
 There were also many great tents, hung with boughs and 
 lighted with innumerable colored lamps, where the people 
 danced their country dances in a choking cloud of dry saw 
 dust. Conjurors and gymnastic performers were showing 
 off on conspicuous platforms, and a continual sound of drums, 
 cymbals and shrill trumpets called the attention of the crowd 
 to some " Wonderful Exhibition" some infant phenomenon, 
 giant, or three-headed pig. A great part of the crowd be 
 longed evidently to the worst classes of society, but the 
 watchfulness of the police prevented any open disorder. We 
 came away early and in a quarter of an hour were in busy 
 London, leaving far behind us the revel and debauch, which 
 was prolonged through the whole night. 
 
 London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy at 
 mospheres in the world. During the opening spring weather, 
 no light and scarcely any warmth can penetrate the dull, 
 yellowish-gray mist, which incessantly hangs over the city. 
 Sometimes at noon we had for an hour or two a sickly gleam 
 of sunshine, but it was soon swallowed up by the smoke and 
 
488 VIEWS A-FOOt. 
 
 drizzling fog. The people carry umbrellas at all times, for 
 the rain seems to drop spontaneously out of the very air, 
 without waiting for the usual preparation of a gathering 
 cloud. One day there was a genuine London fog a speci 
 men of November weather, as the people said. The streets 
 were wrapped in a veil of dense mist, of a dirty yellow 
 color, as if the air had suddenly grown thick and mouldy. 
 The houses on the opposite sides of the street were invisible, 
 and the gas-lamps, lighted in the shops, burned with a white 
 and ghastly flame. Carriages ran together in the streets, 
 and I was kept constantly on the look-out, lest some one 
 should come suddenly out of the cloud around me, and we 
 should meet with a shock like that of two knights at a tour 
 nament. 
 
 I led thus a misty, monotonous life for about six weeks, 
 enlivened by an occasional visit to Mr. Murray or Mr. Put 
 nam, or my kind friends at Chelsea, after which I returned 
 to my room over the Aldgate Churchyard, the dreariness of 
 which became pleasant after the annoyances of London streets 
 at night. There is no city in the world where vice has so 
 brazen a front, as in London. At last, on the 20th of April, 
 I received a remittance of fifty dollars, and my friends, who 
 had also replenished their funds, arrived from Paris two or 
 three days afterwards. We immediately made preparations 
 to return home, and succeeded in engaging passage in the 
 Victoria, which was to sail on the 26th. The price of a 
 passage in the second cabin was 12 10s., which included 
 sailors fare. Our funds were insufficient to pay the whole 
 fare, after our final expenses in London had been defrayed; 
 but Capt. Morgan, who was not so mistrustful as my NOP 
 
EMBARKING FOR HOME. 489 
 
 man landlord, agreed that the rest should be paid on our 
 arrival in New York. On the day of our departure, we took 
 dinner, for the first time, at the coffee-house, and the fat 
 landlord made us a pudding as round and puffy as his own 
 face, in honor of the event. He desired me to write to him, 
 which was the only act of familiarity he was guilty of. 
 After dinner I heard the old Aldgate clock strike for the 
 last time, and set out for St. Katharine s Docks overjoyed 
 at the thought of returning home, and Reeling satisfied that, 
 now my pilgrimage in Europe was over, I had done all, and 
 more than all, which I had set out to do. 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE RETURN HOM E H INT8 FOR PEDESTRIANS. 
 
 Quarters on Ship-board Passage through the Channel Portsmouth- The Voyage 
 Home Excitement of Return Landing- Land Sights and Scents The Last Day 
 of the Pilgrimage Approaching Home The Lighted Window Requisites for a 
 Pedestrian Journey Travelling on Small Allowance Cost of Sleeping The Knap- 
 Back Manner of Travel -Open-Air Life A Pedestrian s Equipment Books- 
 Sketching- German Students- Companions Ignorance concerning America - 
 Hotels Country Taverns Passports Funds Personal Safety Comparative 
 Expense of Different Countries Statement of my Expenses Farewell. 
 
 WE slid out of St. Katharine s Dock at noon on the appoint 
 ed day, and with a pair of sooty steamboats hitched to our 
 vessel, moved slowly down the Thames in mist and drizzling 
 rain. I stayed on the wet deck all afternoon, that I might 
 more forcibly and joyously feel we were again in motion on 
 
 the waters and homeward bound ! B * and I, with two 
 
 young Englishmen, took possession of a state-room of rough 
 boards, lighted by a bull s-eye, which in stormy weather 
 leaked so much that our trunks swam in water. A narrow 
 mattress and blanket, with a knapsack for a pillow, formed 
 a passable bed. A long entry between the rooms, lighted 
 by a feeble swinging lamp, was filled with a board table. 
 
PASSAGE THROUGH THE CHANNEL. 491 
 
 around which the thirty-two second cabin passengers met to 
 discuss politics and salt pork, favorable winds and hard sea- 
 biscuit. 
 
 We lay becalmed opposite Sheerness the whole of the 
 second day. At dusk a sudden squall came up, which drove 
 us foaming towards the North Foreland. When I went on 
 deck in the morning, we had passed Dover and Brighton, and 
 the Isle of Wight was rising dim ahead of us. The low 
 English coast on our right was bordered by long reaches of 
 dazzling chalky sand, which glittered along the calm blue 
 water. Gliding into the Bay of Portsmouth, we dropped 
 anchor opposite the romantic town of Hyde, built on the 
 sloping shore of the green Isle of Wight. Eight or nine 
 vessels of the Experimental Squadron were anchored near 
 us, and over the houses of Portsmouth, I saw the masts of 
 the Victory the flag-ship in the battle of Trafalgar, on 
 board of which Nelson was killed. The wind was not strong 
 enough to permit the passage of the Needles, so at midnight 
 we succeeded in wearing back again into the channel, around 
 the Isle of Wight. A head wind forced us to tack away 
 towards the shore of France. We were twice in sight of 
 the rocky coast of Brittany, near Cherbourg, but the misty 
 promontory of Land s End was our last glimpse of the Old 
 World. 
 
 We had the usual experience of an Atlantic voyage 
 pleasant weather for a week, a very severe gale for five 
 days off the coast of Ireland, variable winds in mid-ocean, 
 a calm on the Banks of Newfoundland, and a fresh breeze 
 from the eastward, which failed us on the 31st of May, 
 when but thirty-five miles from Sandy Hook. We lay there 
 
492 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 all day in the fog, listening to the surf on the Long Island 
 shore. A pilot who found us, gave us newspapers with the 
 first account of the war with Mexico and the battles of Palo 
 Alto and Resaca de la Palma. The next morning at sun 
 rise we saw Sandy Hook ; at eleven o clock a tug-boat took 
 hold of us, and at noon we were gliding up the Narrows, 
 with the whole ship s company of four hundred persons on 
 deck, gazing on the beautiful shores of Staten Island, and 
 agreeing almost universally, that it was the most delightful 
 scene they had ever looked upon. 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe the excitement of that 
 afternoon. After thirty-seven days between sky and water, 
 any shore would have been beautiful, but when that shore 
 was Home, after we had been two years absent, during an 
 age when time is always slow, it required -a powerful effort 
 to maintain any propriety of manner. The steward prepar 
 ed a parting dinner, much better than any we had had at 
 sea ; but I tried in vain to eat. Never were trees such a 
 glorious green as those around the Quarantine Buildings, 
 where we lay to for half an hour, to be visited by the physi 
 cian. The day was cloudy, and thick mist hung on the tops 
 of the hills, but I felt as if I could never tire looking at the 
 land. 
 
 At last we approached the city. It appeared smaller 
 than when I left, but this might have been because I was 
 habituated to the broad distances of the sea. Our scanty 
 baggage was brought on deck, for the inspection of the 
 custom-house officer, but we were neither annoyed nor delay 
 ed by the operation. The steamer by this time had taken 
 us to the pier at Pine-street wharf, and the slight jar of the 
 
LAM) SIC! FITS AXD SCENTS. 493 
 
 vessel as she came alongside, sent a thrill of delight through 
 our frames. But when finally the ladder was let down, and 
 we sprang upon the pier, it was with an electric shock, as if 
 of recognition from the very soil. It was about four o clock 
 in the afternoon, and we were glad that night was so near at 
 hand. After such strong excitement as we had felt since 
 morning, the prospect of rest was very attractive. 
 
 Life at sea sharpens one s sensibilities to the sounds and 
 scents of land, in a very high degree. We noticed a differ 
 ence in the atmosphere of different streets, and in the scent 
 of leaves and grass, which a land friend who was with us 
 failed entirely to distinguish. The next day, as we left 
 New York, and in perfect exultation of spirit sped across 
 New Jersey (which was never half so beautiful to our eyes), 
 I could feel nothing but one continued sensation of the 
 country fragrant hay-field and wild clearing, garden and 
 marshy hollow, and the cool shadow of the woodlands I 
 was by turns possessed with the spirit of them all. The 
 twilight deepened as we passed down the Delaware ; I stood 
 on the promenade deck, and watched the evening star 
 kindling through the cloudless flush of sunset, while the 
 winds that came over the glassy river bore me the odor of 
 long-remembered meadow flowers. We asked each other 
 what there was in the twilights of Florence and Vallambrosa 
 more delicious than this 1 
 
 A night in neat, cheerful, home-like Philadelphia, whose 
 dimensions were also a little shrunken in our eyes, and a 
 glorious June morning broke on the last day of our pil 
 grimage. Again we were on the Delaware, pacing the deck 
 in rapture at the green, luxuriant beauty of its shores. Is 
 
494 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 it not worth years of absence, to learn how to love one s 
 land as it should be loved ? Two or three hours brought us 
 to Wilmington, in Delaware, and within twelve miles of 
 home. Now came the realization of a plan we had talked 
 over a hundred times, to keep up our spirits when the 
 weather was gloomy, or the journey lay through some 
 waste of barren country. Our knapsacks, which had been 
 laid down in Paris, were again taken up, slouched German 
 hats substituted for our modern black cylinders, belt and 
 blouse donned, and the pilgrim staff grasped for the rest of 
 our journey. But it was part of our plan, that we should 
 not reach home till after nightfall ; we could not think of 
 seeing any one we knew before those who were nearest to 
 us ; and so it was necessary to wait a few hours before 
 starting. 
 
 The time carne ; that walk of three or four hours seemed 
 longer than many a day s tramp of thirty miles, but every 
 step of the way was familiar ground. The people we met 
 stared, laughed, or looked suspiciously after us, but we were 
 quite insensible to any observation. We only counted the 
 fields, measured the distance from hill ^to hill, and watched 
 the gradual decline of the broad, bright sun. It went down 
 at last, and our homes were not far off. When the twilight 
 grew deeper, we parted, each one of us thinking what an 
 experience lay between that moment and the next morning. 
 I took to the fields, plunged into a sea of dewy clover, and 
 made for a light which began to glimmer as it grew darker. 
 When I reached it, and looked with the most painful ex 
 citement through the window on the unsuspecting group 
 within, there was not one face missing. 
 
REQUISITES FOR A PEDESTRIAN JOURNEY. 495 
 
 Although the narrative of my journey, " with knapsack 
 and staff," is now strictly finished, a few more words of 
 explanation seem necessary, to describe more fully the 
 method of travelling which we adopted. I add them the 
 more willingly, as it is my belief that many, whose circum 
 stances are similar to mine, desire to undertake the same 
 romantic journey. Some matter-of-fact statements may be 
 to them useful as well as interesting. 
 
 To see Europe as a pedestrian requires little preparation, 
 if the traveller is willing to forego some of the refinements 
 of living to which he may have been accustomed, for the 
 sake of the new and interesting fields of observation which 
 will be opened to him. He must be content to sleep on 
 hard beds, and partake of coarse fare ; to undergo rudeness 
 at times from the officers of the police and the porters of 
 palaces and galleries ; or to travel for hours in rain and 
 storm without finding a shelter. The knapsack will at first 
 be heavy upon the shoulders, the feet will be sore and the 
 lirnbs weary with the day s walk, and sometimes the spirit 
 will begin to flag under the general fatigue of body. This, 
 however, soon passes over. In a week s time, if the pedes 
 trian does not attempt too much on setting out, his limbs are 
 stronger, and his gait more firm and vigorous ; he lies down 
 at night with a feeling of refreshing rest, sleeps with a 
 soundness undisturbed by a single dream, that seems almost 
 like death, if he has been accustomed to restless nights ; and 
 rises invigorated in heart and frame for the next day s 
 journey. The coarse black bread of the peasant inns, with 
 cheese no less coarse, and a huge mug of milk or the 
 nourishing beer of Germany, have a relish to his keen 
 
496 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 appetite, which excites his own astonishment. And if he is 
 willing to regard all incivility and attempts at imposition as 
 valuable lessons in the study of human nature, and to keep 
 his temper and cheerfulness in any situation which may try 
 them, he is prepared to walk through the whole of Europe, 
 with more real pleasure to himself, and far more profit, than 
 if he journeyed in style and enjoyed (?) the constant ser 
 vices of couriers and valets de place. 
 
 Should his means become unusually scant, he will find it 
 possible to travel on an amazingly small pittance, and with 
 more actual bodily comfort than would seem possible, to one 
 who has not tried it. I was more than once obliged to walk 
 a number of days in succession, on less than a franc a day, 
 and found that the only drawback to my enjoyment was the 
 fear that I might be without relief when this allowance 
 should be exhausted. One observes, admires, wonders, and 
 learns quite as extensively, under such circumstances, as if 
 he had unlimited means. 
 
 The only expense that cannot be reduced at will, in 
 Europe, is that for sleeping. You may live on a crust of 
 bread a day, but lower than four cents for a bed you cannot 
 go ! In Germany this is the regular price paid by travel 
 ling journeymen, and no one need wish for a more comforta 
 ble resting-place than those massive boxes (when you have 
 become accustomed to their shortness) with their coarse but 
 clean linen sheets, and healthy mattresses of straw. In Italy 
 the price varies from half a paul to a paul (ten cents), but a 
 person somewhat familiar with the language would not often 
 be asked more than the former price, for which he has a bed 
 stuffed with corn-husks, large enough for at least three mem- 
 
MANNER OF TRAVEL. 497 
 
 I was asked in France, five sous in all the village inns, from 
 Marseilles to Dieppe. The pedestrian cares far more for a 
 good rest than for the quality of his tare, and a walk of 
 thirty miles prepares him to find it, on the hardest couch. I 
 usually rose before sunrise, and immediately began the day s 
 journey, the cost of lodging having been paid the night 
 before a universal custom among the common inns, which 
 are frequented by the peasantry. At the next village, I 
 would buy a loaf of the hard brown bread, with some cheese, 
 or butter, or whatever substantial addition could be made 
 at trifling cost, and breakfast on a bank by the roadside, 
 lying at full length on the dewy grass, and using my knap 
 sack as a table. I might also mention that a leathern pouch, 
 fastened on one side of this table, contained a knife and fork, 
 and one or two solid tin boxes, for articles which could not 
 be carried in the pocket. A similar pouch at the other side 
 held pen and ink, and a small bottle, which was filled some 
 times with the fresh water of the streams, and sometimes 
 with the common country wine, which costs from three to 
 six sous the quart. 
 
 After walking more than half the distance to be accom 
 plished, with half an hour s rest, dinner would be made in 
 the same manner, and while we rested the full hour allotted 
 to the mid-day halt, guide-books would be examined, jour 
 nals written, or a sketch made of the landscape. If it was 
 during the cold, wet days of winter, we sought a rock, or 
 sometimes the broad abutment of a chance bridge, upon 
 which to lie ; in summer, it mattered little whether we rested 
 in sun or shade, under a bright or rainy sky. The vital 
 energy which this life in the open air gives to the constitu- 
 
498 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tion, is remarkable. The very sensation of health and 
 strength becomes a positive luxury, and the heart overflows 
 with its buoyant exuberance of cheerfulness. Every breath 
 of the fresh morning air was like a draught of some spark 
 ling elixir, gifted with all the potency of the undiscovered 
 Fountain of Youth. We felt pent and oppressed within the 
 walls of a dwelling ; it was far more agreeable to march in 
 the face of a driving shower, under the beating of which the 
 blood grew fresh and warm, than to sit by a dull fireplace 
 waiting for it to cease. Although I had lived mainly upon 
 a farm until the age of seventeen, and was accustomed to 
 out-door exercise, I never before felt how much life one may 
 draw from air and sunshine alone. 
 
 Thus, what at first was borne as a hardship, became at 
 last an enjoyment, and there seemed to me no situation so 
 extreme, that it did not possess some charm to my mind, 
 which made me unwilling to shrink from the experience. 
 Still, as one depth of endurance after another was reached, 
 the words of Cicero would recur to me as encouragement 
 " Perhaps even this may hereafter be remembered with plea 
 sure." Once only, while waiting six days at Lyons in 
 gloomy weather and among harsh people, without a sous 
 and with a strong doubt of receiving any relief, I became in 
 different to what might happen, and would have passively 
 met any change for the worse as men who have been ex 
 posed to shipwreck for days, scarce make an effort to save 
 themselves when the vessel strikes at last. 
 
 A few words in relation to a pedestrian s equipment may 
 be of some practical value. It is best to take no more 
 clothing than is absolutely required, as the traveller will not 
 
499 
 
 desire to carry more than fifteen pounds on his back, knap 
 sack included. A single suit of good dark cloth, with a 
 supply of linen, will be amply sufficient. The strong linen 
 blouse, confined by a leather belt, will protect it from the 
 dust, and when this is thrown aside on entering a city, the 
 traveller makes a very respectable appearance. The slouched 
 hat of finely woven felt, is a delightful covering to the 
 head, serving at the same time as umbrella or night cap, 
 travelling dress or visiting costume. No one should neglect 
 a good cane, which, besides its feeling of companionship, is 
 equal to from three to five miles a day, and may serve as a 
 defence against banditti, or savage Bohemian dogs. In the 
 Alps, the tall staves, pointed with iron, and topped with a 
 curved chamois horn, can be bought for a franc apiece, and 
 are of great assistance in crossing ice-fields, or sustaining the 
 weight of the body in descending steep and difficult passes. 
 
 An umbrella is inconvenient, unless it is short and may 
 be strapped on the knapsack, but even then, an ample cape 
 of oiled silk or India rubber cloth is far preferable. The 
 pedestrian need not be particular in this respect ; lie Avill 
 soon grow accustomed to an occasional drenching, and I am 
 not sure that men, like plants, do not thrive under it, when 
 they have outgrown the hot-house nature of civilization, in 
 a life under the open heaven. A portfolio, capable of hard 
 service, with a guide-book or two, pocket-compass and spy 
 glass, completes the contents of the knapsack, though if there 
 is still a small corner to spare, I would recommend that it be 
 filled with pocket editions of one or two of the good old 
 English classics. It is a rare delight to sit down in the 
 gloomy fastnesses of the Hartz, or in the breezy valleys of 
 
500 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Styria, and read the majestic measures of our glorious Saxon 
 bards. Milton is first fully appreciated, when you look up 
 from his page to the snowy ramparts of the Alps, which shut 
 out all but the Heaven of whose beauty he sang ; and all 
 times and places are fitting .for the universal Shakspeare. 
 Chil le Harold bears such a glowing impress of the scenery 
 on which Byron s eye has dwelt, that it spoke to me like the 
 answering voice of a friend from the crag of Drachenfels, in 
 the rushing of the arrowy Rhone, and beside the breathing 
 marbles of the Vatican and the Capitol. 
 
 A little facility in sketching from nature is a most useful 
 and delightful accomplishment for the pedestrian. He may 
 bring away the features of wild and unvisited landscapes, 
 the picturesque fronts of peasant cottages and wayside 
 shrines, or the simple beauty of some mountain child, watch 
 ing his herd of goats. Though having little knowledge and 
 no practice in the art, I persevered in my awkward attempts, 
 and was soon able to take a rough and rapid but tolerably cor. 
 rect outline of almost any scene. These memorials of two 
 years of travel have now a value to me, which I would not 
 exchange for the finest engravings, however they might ex 
 cel in faithful representation. Another article of equipment 
 which I had almost forgotten to mention, is a small bottle of 
 the best Cognac, with which to bathe the feet, morning and 
 evening, for the first week or two, or as long as they con 
 tinue tender with the exercise. It was also very strengthen 
 ing and refreshing, when the body was unusually weary with 
 a long day s walking or climbing, to use as an external sti 
 mulant ; for I never had occasion to apply it internally 
 Many of the German students wear a wicker flask, slung 
 
GERMAN STUDENTS. 50] 
 
 over tlieir shoulder, containing kirschwasser, which they mix 
 with the water of the mountain streams, but this is not at 
 all necessary to the traveller s health and comfort. 
 
 These students, with all their irregularities, are a noble, 
 warm-hearted class, and make the best companions in the 
 world. During the months of August and September, hun 
 dreds of tlie-Tn ramble through Switzerland and the Tyrol, 
 extending their route sometimes to Venice and Rome. With 
 their ardent love for every thing republican, they will 
 always receive an American heartily, consecrate him as a 
 bursch, and admit him to their fellowship. With the most 
 of them, an economy of expense is part of the habit of their 
 student-life, and they are only spendthrifts on the articles of 
 beer and tobacco. A month s residence in Heidelberg, the 
 most beautiful place in Germany, will serve to make the 
 young American acquainted with their habits, and able to 
 join them for an adventurous foot-journey, with the greatest 
 advantage to himself. 
 
 We always accepted a companion, of whatever kind, while 
 walking from chimney-sweeps to barons. In a strange 
 country one can learn something from every peasant, and we 
 neglected no opportunity, not only to obtain information, but 
 to impart it. We found every where great curiosity respect 
 ing America, and we were always glad to tell them all they 
 wished to know. In Germany, we were generally taken for 
 Germans from some part of the country where the dialect 
 was a little different, or, if they remarked our foreign pecu 
 liarities, they supposed we were either Poles, Russians, or 
 Swiss. The greatest ignorance in relation to America, pre 
 vails among the common people. They imagine we are a 
 
502 VIEWS A- FOOT. 
 
 savage race, without intelligence and almost without law. 
 Persons of education, who had some slight knowledge of 
 our history, showed a curiosity to know something of our 
 political condition. They are taught hy the German news, 
 papers (which are under a strict censorship in this respect) 
 to look only at the evil in our country, and they almost in 
 variably began by adverting to Slavery and Repudiation. 
 "W kile we admitted, often with shame and mortification, the 
 existence of things so inconsistent with true republicanism, 
 we endeavored to make them comprehend the advantages 
 enjoyed by the free citizen the complete equality of birth 
 which places America, despite her faults, far above any 
 other nation on earth 
 
 In large cities we always preferred to take the second or 
 third-rate hotels, which are generally visited by merchants 
 and persons who travel on business ; for, with the same 
 comforts as those of the first rank, they are nearly twice as 
 cheap. A traveller, with a guide-book and a good pair of 
 eyes, can also dispense with the services of a courier, whose 
 duty it is to conduct strangers about the city, from one 
 lion to another, We chose rather to find out and view the 
 sights at our leisure. In small villages, where we were often 
 obliged to stop, we chose the best hotels, which, particularly 
 in Northern Germany and in Italy, are none too good. But 
 if it was a post, that is, a town where the post-chaise stops 
 to change horses, we usually avoided the post-hotel, where 
 one must pay high for having curtains before his windows 
 and a more elegant cover on his bed. In the country 
 taverns we always found neat, comfortable lodging, and 
 a pleasant, friendly reception from the people. They 
 
COUNTRY INNS PASSPORTS. 503 
 
 saluted us, on entering, with " Be you welcome," and 
 on leaving, wished us a pleasant journey and good fortune. 
 The host, when he brought us supper or breakfast, lifted his 
 cap, and wished us a good appetite and when he lighted us 
 to our chambers, left us with " May you sleep well !" We 
 generally found honest, friendly people ; they delighted in 
 telling us about the country around ; what ruins there were 
 in the neighborhood and what strange legends were con 
 nected with them. The only part of Europe where it is 
 unpleasant to travel in this manner, is Bohemia. We could 
 scarcely find a comfortable inn ; the people all spoke an un 
 known language, and were not particularly celebrated for 
 their honesty. Beside this, travellers rarely go on foot in 
 those regions ; we were frequently taken for travelling hand- 
 werker, and subjected to imposition. 
 
 With regard to passports, although they were vexatious 
 and often expensive, we found little difficulty when we had 
 acquainted ourselves with the regulations concerning them. 
 In France and Germany they are comparatively little trou 
 ble ; in Italy they are the traveller s greatest annoyance. 
 Americans are treated with less strictness, in this respect, 
 than citizens of other nations, and, owing to the absence of 
 rank among us, they also enjoy greater advantages of ac 
 quaintance and intercourse. 
 
 The expenses of travelling in England, although much 
 greater than in our own country, may, as we learned by 
 experience, be brought, through economy, within the same 
 compass. Indeed, it is my belief, from observation, that 
 with few exceptions, throughout Europe, where a traveller 
 enjoys the same comfort and abundance as in America, he 
 
504 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 must pay the same prices. The principal difference is, that 
 he only pays for what he gets, so that, if he be content with 
 the necessities of life, without its luxuries, the expense is in 
 proportion. 
 
 The best coin for the traveller s purpose, is English gold, 
 which passes at a considerable premium on the Continent, 
 and is readily accepted at all the principal hotels. Having 
 to earn my means as I went along, I was obliged to have 
 money forwarded in small remittances, generally in drafts 
 on the house cf Hottingeur & Co., in Paris, which could be 
 cashed in any large city of Europe. If only a short tour is 
 intended, and the pedestrian s means are limited, he may 
 easily carry the necessary amount with him. There is little 
 danger of robbery for those who journey in such an humble 
 style. I never lost a single article in this manner, and 
 rarely had any feeling but that of perfect security. No part 
 of our own country is safer in this respect than Germany, 
 Switzerland or France. Italy still bears an unfortunate 
 reputation for honesty ; the denies of the Apennines and the 
 hollows of the Roman Campagna are haunted by banditti, 
 and persons who travel in their own carriages are often 
 plundered. I saw the caves and hiding-places of these out 
 laws among the evergreen shrubbery, in the pass of Monte 
 Soi uma, near Spoleto. A Swedish gentleman in Rome told 
 me that he had walked from Ancona, through the mountains 
 to the Eternal City, partly by night, but that, although he 
 met with many suspicious faces, he was not disturbed in any 
 way. An English artist of rny acquaintance walked from 
 Leghorn along the Tuscan and Tyrrhene coast to Civita 
 Vecchia, through a barren and savage district, overgrown 
 
COMPARATIVE EXPENSES OF DIFFERENT LANDS. 506 
 
 with aloes and cork-trees, without experiencing any trouble, 
 except from the extreme curiosity of the ignorant inhabitants. 
 The fastnesses of the Abruzzi have been explored with like 
 facility by daring pedestrians ; indeed, the sight of a knapsack 
 seems to serve as a free passport with all highwaymen. 
 
 I have given, at times, through the foregoing chapters, the 
 cost of portions of my journey and residence in various cities 
 of Europe. The cheapest country for travelling, as far as 
 my experience extended, is Southern Germany, where one 
 can travel comfortably on twenty -five cents a day. Italy and 
 the south of France come next in order, and are but little more 
 expensive ; then follow Switzerland and Northern Germany, 
 and lastly, Great Britain. The cheapest city, and one of 
 the pleasantest in the world, is Florence, where we break 
 fasted on five cents, dined sumptuously on twelve, and went 
 to a good opera for ten. A man would find no difficulty in 
 spending a year there, for about $250. This fact may be 
 of some importance to those whose health requires such a 
 stay, yet are kept back from attempting the voyage through 
 fear of the expense. Counting the passage to Leghorn at 
 fifty or sixty dollars, it will be seen how little is necessary 
 for a year s enjoyment of the sweet atmosphere of Italy. In 
 addition to these particulars, the following connected state 
 ment of my expenses, will better show the minimum cost of 
 a two years pilgrimage . 
 
 Voyage to Liverpool, in the second cabin, . . . $24 00 
 
 Three weeks travel in Ireland and Scotland, . . 25 00 
 
 A week in London, at three shillings a day, . . 4 50 
 
 From London to Heidelberg, . . . . 15 00 
 
 Amount carried ove^ . $68 50 
 
 22 
 
506 VIEWS A-FOOT, 
 
 Amount brought forward, . , $68 50 
 
 A month at Heidelberg, and trip to Frankfort, 20 00 
 
 Seven months in Frankfort, at $10 per month, . . 70 00 
 
 Fuel, passports, excursions and other expenses, . 30 00 
 
 Tour through Cassel, the Hartz, Saxony, Austria, Bavaria, &c., 40 00 
 
 A month in Frankfort, . . . . . . 10 00 
 
 From Frankfort through Switzerland, and over the Alps to Milan, 15 00 
 
 From Milan to Genoa, ...... ( >0 
 
 Expenses from Genoa to Florence, . . . 14 00 
 
 Four months in Florence, . . . . . 50 00 
 
 Eight days journey from Florence to Rome, two weeks in Koine, 
 
 voyage to Marseilles, and journey to Paris, . . 40 00 
 
 Five weeks in Paris, . . . . 15 00 
 
 From Paris to London, ...... 
 
 Six weeks in London, at three shillings a day, . 31 00 
 
 Passage home, CO 00 
 
 $472 10 
 
 The cost for places of amusement, guides fees, and other 
 small expenses, not included in this list, increase the sum 
 total to $500, for which I made the tour, and for which 
 others may make it. May the young reader, whom this 
 book has encouraged to attempt the same pilgrimage, meet 
 with equal kindness on his way, and come home as well re 
 paid for his labors ! 
 
 Till END. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 
 
 AND 
 
 TALES OF HOME 
 
 BY 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 AUTHOR S REVISED EDITION 
 
gntercd accord. eg to Act of Congress, in the yt;ar 1872, by 
 
 GEO. P. PUTNAM & SONS, 
 IB the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 71.9K 
 
 BFAUTY AND THE BEAST 7 
 
 THE STRANGE FRIEND .... 75 
 
 JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY ... .107 
 
 CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 139 
 
 TWIN-LOVE ,69 
 
 THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. . , 193 
 
 FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER 241 
 
 Miss BARTRAM S TROUBLE . . 283 
 
 MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT . 307 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 A STORY OF OLD RUSSIA. 
 
 E are about to relate a story 
 of mingled fact and fancy. The 
 facts are borrowed from the 
 Russian author, Petjerski ; the 
 fancy is our own. Our task 
 will chiefly be to soften the out 
 lines of incidents almost too sharp and rugged for literary 
 use, to supply them with the necessary coloring and 
 sentiment, and to give a coherent and proportioned 
 shape to the irregular fragments of an old chron 
 icle. We know something, from other sources, of the 
 customs described, something of the character of the 
 people from personal observation, and may therefore the 
 more freely take such liberties as we choose with the rude, 
 vigorous sketches of the Russian original. One who hap 
 pens to have read the work of Villebois can easily com 
 prehend the existence of a state of society, on the banks 
 
: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 of the Volga, a hundred years ago, which is now impos 
 sible, and will soon become incredible. What is strangest 
 in our narrative has been declared to be true. 
 
 IL 
 
 WE are in Kinesma, a small town on the Volga, be 
 tween Kostroma and Nijni-Novgorod. The time is about 
 the middle of the last century, and the month October. 
 
 There was trouble one day, in the palace of Prince 
 Alexis, of Kinesma. This edifice, with its massive white 
 walls, and its pyramidal roofs of green copper, stood 
 upon a gentle mound to the eastward of the town, over 
 looking it, a broad stretch of the Volga, and the opposite 
 shore. On a similar hill, to the westward, stood the 
 church, glittering with its dozen bulging, golden domes. 
 Tbese two establishments divided the sovereignty of 
 Kinesma between them. Prince Alexis owned the bodies 
 of the inhabitants, (with the exception of a few merchants 
 and tradesmen,) and the Archimandrite Sergius owned 
 their souls. But the shadow of the former stretched also 
 over other villages, far beyond the ring of the wooded hor 
 izon. The number of his serfs was ten thousand, and his 
 rule over them was even less disputed than theirs over 
 their domestic animals. 
 
 The inhabitants of the place had noticed with dismay 
 that the slumber-flag had not been hoisted on the castle, 
 although it was half an hour after the usual time. So 
 rare a circumstance betokened sudden wrath or disaster, 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BE $ 
 
 on the part of Prince Alexis, Long experience had pre 
 pared the people for anything that might happen, and 
 they were consequently not astonished at the singular 
 event which presently transpired. 
 
 The fact is, that in the first place, the dinner had been 
 prolonged full ten minutes beyond its accustomed limit, 
 owing to a discussion between the Prince, his wife, the 
 Princess Martha, and their son Prince Boris. The last 
 was to leave for St Petersburg in a fortnight and wished 
 to have his departure preceded by a festival at the castle. 
 The Princess Martha was always ready to second the de 
 sires of her only child. Between the two they had 
 pressed some twenty or thirty thousand rubles out of the 
 old Prince, for the winter diversions of the young one. 
 The festival, to be sure, wouM have been a slight expend 
 iture for a noble of such immense wealth as Prince Alex 
 is ; but he never liked his wife, and he took a stubborn 
 pleasure in thwarting her wishes. It was no satisfaction 
 that Boris resembled her in character. That weak suc 
 cessor to the sovereignty of Kinesma preferred a game 
 of cards to a bear hunt, and could never drink more than 
 a quart of vodki without becoming dizzy and sick. 
 
 " Ugh ! " Prince Alexis would cry. with a shudder of 
 disgust " the whelp barks after the dam ! " 
 
 A state dinner he might give ; but a festival, with 
 dances, dramatic representations, burning tar barrels, and 
 cannon, no ! He knitted his heavy brows and drank 
 deeply, and his fiery gray eyes shot such incessant glances 
 from side to side that Boris and the Princess Martha 
 i* 
 
10 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 could not exchange a single wink of silent advice. The 
 pet bear, Mishka, plied with strong wines, which Prince 
 Alexis poured out for him into a golden basin, became at 
 last comically drunk, and in endeavoring to execute a 
 dance, lost his balance, and fell at full length on his back. 
 
 The Prince burst into a yelling, shrieking fit of laugh 
 ter. Instantly the yellow-haired serfs in waiting, the Cal- 
 mucks at the hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who 
 crawled around the table in his tow shirt, began laughing 
 in chorus, as violently as they could. The Princess Mar 
 tha and Prince Boris laughed also ; and while the old 
 man s eyes were dimmed with streaming tears of mirth, 
 quickly exchanged nods. The sound extended all over 
 the castle, and was heard outside of the walls. 
 
 " Father ! " said Boris, " let us have the festival, and 
 Mishka shall perform again. Prince Paul of Kostroma 
 would strangle, if he could see him." 
 
 " Good, by St. Vladimir I " exclaimed Prince Alexis. 
 " Thou shalt have it, my Borka ! * Where s Simon Pe- 
 trovitch ? May the Devil scorch that vagabond, if he 
 doesn t do better than the last time ! Sasha ! " 
 
 A broad-shouldered serf stepped forward and stood 
 with bowed head. 
 
 " Lock up Simon Petrovitch in the southwestern 
 tower. Send the tailor and the girls to him, to learn 
 their parts. Search every one of them before they go in 
 and if any one dares to carry vodki to the beast, twenty 
 five lashes on the back ! " 
 
 * Little Boris 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. I 1 
 
 Sasha bowed again and departed. Simon i etrovitch 
 was the court-poet of Kinesma. He had a mechanical 
 knack of preparing allegorical diversions which suited 
 the conventional taste of society at that time ; but he had 
 also a failing, he was rarely sober enough to write. 
 Prince Alexis, therefore, was in the habit of locking him 
 up and placing a guard over him, until the inspiration 
 had done its work. The most comely young serfs of both 
 sexes were selected to perform the parts, and the court- 
 tailor arranged for them the appropriate dresses. It de 
 pended very much upon accident that is to say, the mood 
 of Prince Alexis whether Simon Petrovitch was reward 
 ed with stripes or rubles. 
 
 The matter thus settled, the Prince rose from the 
 table and walked out upon an overhanging balcony, 
 where an immense reclining arm-chair of stuffed leather 
 was ready for his siesta. He preferred this indulgence in 
 tne open air ; and although the weather was rapidly grow 
 ing cold, a pelisse of sables enabled him to slumber 
 sweetly in the face of the north wind. An attendant 
 stood with the pelisse outspread ; another held the hal 
 yards to which was attached the great red slumber-flag, 
 ready to run it up and announce to all Kinesma that the 
 noises of the town must cease ; a few seconds more, and 
 all things would have been fixed in their regular daily 
 courses. The Prince, in fact, was just straightening his 
 shoulders to receive the sables; his eyelids were drop 
 ping, and his eyes, sinking mechanically with them, fell 
 upon the river-road, at the foot of the hill. Along this 
 
12 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 road walked a man, wearing the long cloth caftan of a 
 merchant. 
 
 Prince Alexis started, and all slumber vanished out 
 of his eyes. He leaned forward for a moment, with a 
 quick, eager expression ; then a loud roar, like that ol 
 an enraged wild beast, burst from his mouth. He gave a 
 stamp that shook the balcony. 
 
 " Dog ! " he cried to the trembling attendent, " rny 
 cap ! my whip ! " 
 
 The sables fell upon the floor, the cap and whip ap 
 peared in a twinkling, and the red slumber-flag was folded 
 up again for the first time in several years, as the Prince 
 stormed out of the castle. The traveller below had heard 
 the cry, for it might have been heard half a mile. He 
 seemed to have a presentiment of evil, for he had already 
 set off towards the town at full speed. 
 
 To explain the occurence, we must mention one of 
 the Prince s many peculiar habits. This was, to invite 
 strangers or merchants of the neighborhood to dine with 
 him, and, after regaling them bountifully, to take his pay 
 in subjecting them to all sorts of outrageous tricks, with 
 the help of his band of willing domestics. Now this par 
 ticular merchant had been invited, and had attended ; 
 but, being a very wide-awake, shrewd person, he saw 
 what was coming, and dexterously slipped away from the 
 banquet without being perceived. The Prince vowed 
 vengeance, on discovering the escape, and he was not a 
 man to forget his word. 
 
 Impelled by such opposite passions, both parties ran 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 1 3 
 
 with astonishing speed. The merchant was the taller 
 but his long caftan, hastily ungirdled, swung behind him 
 and dragged in the air. The short, booted legs of the 
 Prince beat quicker time, and he grasped his short, 
 heavy, leathern whip more tightly as he saw the space 
 diminishing. They dashed into the town of Kinesma a 
 hundred yards apart. The merchant entered the main 
 street, or bazaar, looking rapidly to right and left, as he 
 ran, in the hope of espying some place of refuge. The 
 terrible voice behind him cried, 
 
 " Stop, scoundrel ! I have a crow to pick with you ! " 
 
 And the tradesmen in their shops looked on and 
 laughed, as well they might, being unconcerned specta 
 tors of the fun. The fugitive, therefore, kept straight on, 
 notwithstanding a pond of water glittered across the 
 farther end of the street. 
 
 Although Prince Alexis had gained considerably in 
 the race, such violent exercise, after a heavy dinner, de 
 prived him of breath. He again cried, 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 " But the merchant answered, 
 
 " No, Highness ! You may come to me, but I will 
 not go to you " 
 
 " Oh, the villian ! " growled the Prince, in a hoarse 
 whisper, for he had no more voice. 
 
 The pond cut of all further pursuit. Hastily kicking 
 off his loose boots, the merchant plunged into the water, 
 rather than encounter the princely whip, which already 
 began to crack and snap in fierce anticipation. Prince 
 
14 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 Alexis kicked off his boots and followed ; the pond grad 
 ual 1) deepened, and in a minute the tall merchant stood 
 up to his chin in the icy water, and his short pursuer like 
 wise but out of striking distance. The latter coaxed and 
 entreated, but the victim kept his ground. 
 
 " You lie, Highness ! " he said, boldly. " If you want 
 me, come to me." 
 
 " Ah-h-h ! " roared the Prince, with chattering teeth, 
 " what a stubborn rascal you are ! Come here, and I 
 give you my word that I will not hurt you. Nay," see 
 ing that the man did not move, " you shall dine with 
 me as often as you please. You shall be my friend ; by 
 St. Vladimir, I like you !" 
 
 " Make the sign of the cross, and swear it by all the 
 Saints," said the merchant, composedly. 
 
 With a grim smile on his face, the Prince stepped 
 back and shiveringly obeyed. Both then waded out, sat 
 down upon the ground and pulled on their boots ; and 
 presently the people of Kinesma beheld the dripping pair 
 walking side by side up the street, conversing in the most 
 cordial manner. The merchant dried his clothes from 
 within, at the castle table ; a fresh keg of old Cognac was 
 opened ; and although the slumber-flag was not unfurled 
 that afternoon, it flew from the staff and hushed the town 
 nearly all the next day. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE festival granted on behalf cf Prince Boris was 
 o of the grandest ever given at the castle. In charac 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 15 
 
 ter it was a singular cross between the old Muscovite 
 revel and the French entertainments which were then in 
 troduced by the Empress Elizabeth. All the nobility, foi 
 fifty versts around, including Prince Paul and the chief 
 families of Kostroma, were invited. Simon Petrovitch 
 had been so carefully guarded that his work was actually 
 completed and the parts distributed ; his superintendence 
 of the performance, however, was still a matter of doubt, 
 as it was necessary to release him from the tower, and 
 after several days of forced abstinence he always mani 
 fested a raging appetite. Prince Alexis, in spite of this 
 doubt, had been assured by Boris that the dramatic part 
 of the entertainment would not be a failure. When he 
 questioned Sasha, the poet s strong-shouldered guard, the 
 latter winked familiarly and answered with a proverb, 
 
 " I sit on the shore and wait for the wind," which 
 was as much as to say that Sasha had little fear of the 
 result. 
 
 The tables were spread in the great hall, where places 
 for one hundred chosen guests were arranged on the 
 floor, while the three or four hundred of minor importance 
 were provided for in the galleries above. By noon the 
 whole party were assembled. The halls and passages 
 of the castle were already permeated with rich and unc 
 tuous smells, and a delicate nose might have picked out 
 and arranged, by their finer or coarser vapors, the dishes 
 preparing for the upper and lower tables. One of the 
 parasites of Prince Alexis, a dilapidated nobleman, offici 
 ated as Grand Marshal, an office which more than com 
 
1 6 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 pen sated for the savage charity he received, for it was per 
 formed in continual fear and trembling. The Prince had 
 felt the stick of the Great Peter upon his own back, and 
 was ready enough to imitate any custom of the famous 
 monarch. 
 
 An orchestra, composed principally of horns and brass 
 instruments, occupied a separate gallery at one end of the 
 dining-hall. The guests were assembled in the adjoining 
 apartments, according to their rank ; and when the first 
 loud blast of the instruments announced the beginning of 
 the banquet, two very differently attired and freighted 
 processions of servants made their appearance at the same 
 rime. Those intended for the princely table numbered 
 two hundred, two for each guest. They were the hand 
 somest young men among the ten thousand serfs, clothed 
 in loose white trousers and shirts of pink or lilac silk ; 
 their soft golden hair, parted in the middle, fell upon their 
 shoulders, and a band of gold-thread about the brow pre 
 vented it from sweeping the dishes they carried. They 
 entered tjie reception-room, bearing huge trays of sculp 
 tured silver, upon which were anchovies, the finest Finnish 
 caviar, sliced oranges, cheese, and crystal flagons of Cog 
 nac, rum, and k dmmel. There were fewer servants for 
 the remaining guests, who were gathered in a separate 
 chamber, and regaled with the common black caviar, 
 onions, bread, and vodki. At the second blast of trum 
 pets, the two companies set themselves in motion and en 
 tered the dining-hall at opposite ends. Our business, 
 however, is only with the principal personages, so we will 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. I? 
 
 allow the common crowd quietly to mount to the galleries 
 and satisfy their senses with the coarser viands, while their 
 imagination is stimulated by the sight of the splendor and 
 luxury below. 
 
 Prince Alexis entered first, with a pompous, mincing 
 gait, leading the Princess Martha by the tips of her fin 
 gers. He wore a caftan of green velvet laced with gold, 
 a huge vest of crimson brocade, and breeches of yellow 
 satin. A wig, resembling clouds boiling in the confluence 
 of opposing winds, surged from his low, broad forehead, 
 and flowed upon his shoulders. As his small, fiery eyes 
 swept the hall, every servant trembled : he was as severe 
 at the commencement as he was reckless at the close of a 
 banquet. The Princess Martha wore a robe of pink satin 
 embroidered with flowers made of small pearls, and a 
 train and head-dress of crimson velvet. Her emeralds 
 were the finest outside of Moscow, and she wore them all. 
 Her pale, weak, frightened face was quenched in the daz 
 zle of the green fires which shot from her forehead, ears, 
 and bosom, as she moved. 
 
 Prince Paul of Kostroma and the Princess Nadejda 
 followed ; but on reaching the table, the gentlemen took 
 their seats at the head, while the ladies marched down to 
 the foot. Their seats were determined by their relative 
 rank, and woe to him who was so ignorant or so absent- 
 minded as to make a mistake ! The servants had been 
 carefully trained in advance by the Grand Marshal ; and 
 whoever took a place above his rank or importance found, 
 when he came to sit down, that his chair had miraculous!) 
 
1 8 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 disappeared, or, not noticing the fact, seated himself al> 
 surdly and violently upon the floor. The Prince at the 
 head of the table, and the Princess at the foot, with their 
 nearest guests of equal rank, ate from dishes of massive 
 gold ; the others from silver. As soon as the last of the 
 company had entered the hall, a crowd of jugglers, tum 
 blers, dwarfs, and Calmucks followed, crowding them 
 selves into the corners under the galleries, where they 
 awaited the conclusion of the banquet to display their 
 tricks, and scolded and pummelled each other in the 
 mean time. 
 
 On one side of Prince Alexis the bear Mishka took 
 his station. By order of Prince Boris he had been kept 
 from wine for several days, and his small eyes were keen 
 er and hungrier than usual. As he rose now and then, 
 impatiently, and sat upon his hind legs, he formed a curi 
 ous contrast to the Prince s other supporter, the idiot, who 
 sat also in his tow-shirt, with a large pewter basin in his 
 hand. It was difficult to say whether the beast was most 
 man or the man most beast. They eyed each other and 
 watched the motions of their lord with equal jealousy; 
 and the dismal whine of the bear found an echo in the 
 drawling, slavering laugh of the idiot. The Prince glanced 
 fftm one to the other ; they put him in a capital humor, 
 which was not lessened as he perceived an expression of 
 envy pass over the face of Prince Paul. 
 
 The dinner commenced with a botvinia something 
 between a soup and a salad of wonderful composition. 
 It contained cucumbers, cherries, salt fish, melons, bread, 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 19 
 
 salt, pepper, and wine. While it was being served, four 
 huge fishermen, dressed to represent mermen of the Volga, 
 naked to the waist, with hair crowned with reeds, legs 
 finned with silver tissue from the knees downward, and 
 preposterous scaly tails, which dragged helplessly upon 
 the floor, entered the hall, bearing a broad, shallow tank 
 of silver. In the tank flapped and swam four superb ster 
 lets, their ridgy backs rising out of the water like those 
 of alligators. Great applause welcomed this new and 
 classical adaptation of the old custom of showing the living 
 fish, before cooking them, to the guests at the table. The 
 invention was due to Simon Petrovitch, and was (if the 
 truth must be confessed) the result of certain carefully 
 measured supplies of brandy which Prince Boris himself 
 had carried to the imprisoned poet. 
 
 After the sterlets had melted away to their backbones, 
 and the roasted geese had shrunk into drumsticks and 
 breastplates, and here and there a guest s ears began to 
 redden with more rapid blood, Prince Alexis judged that 
 the time for diversion had arrived. He first filled up the 
 idiot s basin with fragments of all the dishes within his 
 reach, fish, stewed fruits, goose fat, bread, boiled cabbage, 
 and beer, the idiot grinning with delight all the while, 
 and singing, " Neuyesjdi golubchik moi" (Don t go away, 
 my little pigeon), between the handfuls which he crammed 
 into his mouth. The guests roared with laughter, espec 
 ially when a juggler or Calmuck stole out from under the 
 gallery, and pretended to have designs upon the basin. 
 Mishka, the bear, had also been well fed, and greedilj 
 
20 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 drank ripe old Malaga from the golden dish. But, alas i 
 he would not dance. Sitting up on his hind legs, with his 
 fore paws hanging before him, he cast a drunken, lan 
 guishing eye upon the company, lolled out his tongue, 
 and whined with an almost human voice. The domestics, 
 secretly incited by the Grand Marshal, exhausted their 
 ingenuity in coaxing him, but in vain. Finally, one of 
 them took a goblet of wine in one hand, and, embracing 
 Mishka with the other, began to waltz. The bear 
 stretched out his paw and clumsily followed the move 
 ments, whirling round and round after the enticing goblet. 
 The orchestra struck up, and the spectacle, though not 
 exactly what Prince Alexis wished, was comical enough 
 to divert the company immensely. 
 
 But the close of the performance was not upon the 
 programme. The impatient bear, getting no nearer his 
 goblet, hugged the man violently with the other paw, 
 striking his claws through the thin shirt. The dance- 
 measure was lost ; the legs of the two tangled, and they 
 fell to the floor, the bear undermost. With a growl of 
 rage and disappointment, he brought his teeth togethei 
 through the man s arm, and it might have fared badly with 
 the latter, had not the goblet been refilled by some one 
 and held to the animal s nose. Then, releasing his hold. 
 he sat up again, drank another bottle, and staggered out 
 of the hall. 
 
 Now the health of Prince Alexis was drunk, by the 
 guests on the floor of the hall in Champagne, by those in 
 the galleries in kislischi and hydromel. The orchestra 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 21 
 
 played ; a choir of serfs sang an ode by Simon Petrovitch, 
 in which the departure of Prince Boris was mentioned j 
 the tumblers began to posture ; the jugglers came forth 
 and played their tricks ; and the cannon on the ramparts 
 announced to all Kinesma, and far up and down the Volga, 
 that the company were rising from the table. 
 
 Half an hour later, the great red slumber-flag floated 
 over the castle. All slept, except the serf with the 
 wounded arm, the nervous Grand Marshal, and Simon Pe- 
 trovich with his band of dramatists, guarded by the inde 
 fatigable Sasha. All others slept, and the curious crowd 
 outside, listening to the music, stole silently away ; down 
 in Kinesma, the mothers ceased to scold their children, 
 and the merchants whispered to each other in the bazaar \ 
 the captains of vessels floating on the Volga directed their 
 men by gestures ; the mechanics laid aside hammer and 
 axe, and lighted their pipes. Great silence fell upon the 
 land, and continued unbroken so long as Prince Alexis 
 and his guests slept the sleep of the just and the tipsy. 
 
 By night, however, they were all awake and busily pre 
 paring for the diversions of the evening. The ball-room 
 was illuminated by thousands of wax-lights, so connected 
 with inflammable threads, that the wicks could all be kin 
 dled in a moment. A pyramid of tar-barrels had been 
 erected on each side of the castle-gate, and every hill or 
 mound on the opposite bank of the Volga was similarly 
 crowned. When, to a stately march, the musicians blow 
 ing their loudest, Prince Alexis and Princess Martha led 
 the way to the ball-room, the signal was given : candles 
 
22 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 ai)d tar-barrels burst into flame, and not only within the 
 castle, but over the landscape for five or six versts, around 
 everything was bright and clear in the fiery day. Then 
 the noises of Kinesma were not only permitted, but en 
 couraged. Mead and qvass flowed in the very streets, and 
 the castle trumpets could not be heard for the sound of 
 troikas and balalaikas. 
 
 After the Polonaise, and a few stately minuets, (copied 
 from the court of Elizabeth), the company were ushered 
 into the theatre. The hour of Simon Petrovitch had 
 struck: with the inspiration smuggled to him by Prince 
 Boris, he had arranged a performance which he felt to be 
 his masterpiece. Anxiety as to its reception kept him so 
 ber. * The overture had ceased, the spectators were all 
 in their seats, and now the curtain rose. The background 
 was a growth of enormous, sickly toad-stools, supposed to 
 be clouds. On the stage stood a girl of eighteen, (the 
 handsomest in Kinesma), in hoops and satin petticoat, 
 powdered hair, patches, and high-heeled shoes. She held 
 a fan in one hand, and a bunch of marigolds in the other. 
 After a deep and graceful curtsy to the company, she came 
 forward and said, 
 
 " I am the goddess Venus. I have come to Olympus 
 to ask some questions of Jupiter." 
 
 Thunder was heard, and a car rolled upon the stage. 
 Jupiter sat therein, in a blue coat, yellow vest, ruffled shin 
 and three-cornered hat. One hand held a bunch of thun 
 derbolts, which he occasionally lifted and shook ; the oth 
 cr, a gold-headed cane. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 23 
 
 " Here am, I Jupiter," said he ; " what does Venus 
 desire?" 
 
 A poetical dialogue then followed, to the effect that 
 the favorite of the goddess, Prince Alexis of Kinesma, was 
 about sending his son, Prince Boris, into the gay world, 
 wherein himself had already displayed all the gifts of all 
 the divinities of Olympus. He claimed from her, Venus, 
 like favors for his son : was it possible to grant them ? Ju 
 piter dropped his head and meditated. He could not an 
 swer the question at once : Apollo, the Graces, and the 
 Muses must be consulted : there were few precedents 
 where the son had succeeded in rivalling the father, yet the 
 father s pious wishes could not be overlooked. 
 
 Venus said, 
 
 " What I asked for Prince Alexis was for his sake 
 what I ask for the son is for the father s sake." 
 
 Jupiter shook his thunderbolt and called " Apollo ! " 
 
 Instantly the stage was covered with explosive and 
 coruscating fires, red, blue, and golden, and amid 
 smoke, and glare, and fizzing noises, and strong chemical 
 smells, Apollo dropped down from above. He was accus 
 tomed to heat and smoke, being the cook s assistant, and 
 was sweated down to a weight capable of being supported 
 by the invisible wires. He wore a yellow caftan, and 
 wide blue silk trousers. His yellow hair was tv/isted 
 around and glued fast to gilded sticks, which stood out 
 from his head in a circle, and represented rays of light. 
 He first bowed to Prince Alexis, then to the guests, then to 
 Jupiter, then to Venus. The matter was explained to him 
 
24 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 He promised to do what he could towards favoring the 
 world with a second generation of the beauty, grace, intel 
 lect, and nobility of character which had already won his 
 regard. He thought, however, that their gifts were unnec 
 essary, since the model was already in existence, and 
 nothing more could be done than to imitate it. 
 
 (Here there was another meaning bow towards Prince 
 Alexis, a bow in which Jupiter and Venus joined. This 
 was the great point of the evening, in the opinion of Simon 
 Petrovitch. He peeped through a hole in one of the 
 clouds, and, seeing the delight of Prince Alexis and the 
 congratulations of his friends, immediately took a large glass 
 of Cognac). 
 
 The Graces were then summoned, and after them the 
 Muses, all in hoops, powder, and paint. Their songs 
 had the same burden, intense admiration of the father, 
 and good-will for the son, underlaid with a delicate doubt. 
 The close was a chorus of all the deities and semi-deities 
 in praise of the old Prince, with the accompaniment of 
 fireworks. Apollo rose through the air like a frog, with 
 his blue legs and yellow arms wide apart ; Jupiter s char 
 iot rolled off; Venus bowed herself back against a moul 
 dy cloud ; and the Muses came forward in a bunch, with 
 a wreath of laurel, which they placed upon the venerated 
 head. 
 
 Sasha was dispatched to bring the poet, that he migh! 
 receive his well-earned praise and reward. But alas for 
 Simon Petrovitch ? His lei^s had already doubled under 
 him. He was awarded fifty rubles and a new caftan, 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 2$ 
 
 * fiich he was not in a condition to accept until several 
 days afterward. 
 
 The supper which followed resembled the dinner, ex 
 cept that there were fewer dishes and more bottles. When 
 the closing course of sweatmeats had either been consumed 
 or transferred to the pockets of the guests, the Princess 
 Martha retired with the ladies. The guests of lower rank 
 followed ; and there remained only some fifteen or twen 
 ty, who were thereupon conducted by Prince Alexis to a 
 smaller chamber, where he pulled off his coat, lit his pipe, 
 and called for brandy. The others followed his example, 
 and their revelry wore out the night. 
 
 Such was the festival which preceded the departure of 
 Prince Boris for St. Petersburg. 
 
 IV. 
 
 < BEFORE following the young Prince and his fortunes, 
 in the capital, we must relate two incidents which some 
 what disturbed the ordered course of life in the castle of 
 Kinesma, during the first month or two after his departure. 
 It must be stated, as one favorable trait in the charac 
 ter of Prince Alexis, that, however brutally he treated his 
 serfs, he allowed no other man to oppress them. All they 
 had and were their services, bodies, lives belonged to 
 him ; hence injustice towards them was disrespect towards 
 their lord. Under the fear which his barbarity inspired 
 lurked a brute-like attachment, kept alive by the recogni 
 tion of this quality. 
 
26 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 One day it was reported to him that Gregor, a merchant 
 in the bazaar at Kinesma, had cheated the wife of one of 
 his serfs in the purchase of a piece of cloth. Mounting 
 his horse, he rode at once to Gregor s booth, called for 
 the cloth, and sent the entire piece to the woman, in the 
 merchant s name, as a confessed act of reparation. 
 
 " Now, Gregor, my child," said he, as he turned his 
 horse s head, " have a care in future, and play me no more 
 dishonest tricks. Do you hear ? I shall come and take 
 your business in hand myself, if the like happens again." 
 
 Not ten days passed before the like or something 
 fully as bad did happen. Gregor must have been a 
 new comer in Kinesma, or he would not have tried the 
 experiment. In an hour from the time it was announced, 
 Prince Alexis appeared in the bazaar with a short whip 
 under his arm. 
 
 He dismounted at the booth with an ironical smile on 
 his face, which chilled the very marrow in the merchant s 
 bones. 
 
 " Ah, Gregor, my child," he shouted, " you have al 
 ready forgotten my commands. Holy St. Nicholas, what 
 a bad memory the boy has ! Why, he can t be trusted to 
 do business : I must attend to the shop myself. Out of 
 the way ! march ! " 
 
 He swung his terrible whip ; and Gregor, with his two 
 assistants, darted under the counter, and made their es 
 cape. The Prince then entered the booth, took up a 
 yard-stick, and cried out in a voice which could be heard 
 from one end of the town to the other, " Ladies and 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 27 
 
 gentlemen, have the kindness to come and examine oui 
 stock of goods ! We have silks and satins, and all kinds 
 of ladies wear ; also velvet, cloth, cotton, and linen for 
 the gentlemen. Will your Lordships deign to choose? 
 Here are stockings and handkerchiefs of the finest. We 
 understand how to measure, your Lordships, and we sell 
 cheap. We give no change, and take no small money. 
 Whoever has no cash may have credit. Every thing sold 
 below cost, on account of closing up the establishment. 
 Ladies and gentlemen, give us a call ? " 
 
 Everybody in Kinesma flocked to the booth, and for 
 three hours Prince Alexis measured and sold, either for 
 scant cash or long credit, until the last article had been 
 disposed of and the shelves were empty. There was 
 great rejoicing in the community over the bargains made 
 that day. When all was over, Gregor was summoned, 
 and the cash received paid into his hands. 
 
 " It won t take you long to count it," said the Prince ; 
 but here is a list of debts to be collected, which will fur 
 nish you with pleasant occupation, and enable you to ex 
 ercise your memory. Would your Worship condescend 
 to take dinner to-day with your humble assistant ? He 
 would esteem it a favor to be permitted to wait upon you 
 with whatever his poor house can supply." 
 
 Gregor gave a glance at the whip under the Prince s 
 arm, and begged to be excused. But the latter would 
 take no denial, and carried out the comedy to the end 
 by giving the merchant the place of honor at his table, 
 and dismissing him with the present of a fine pup of his 
 
28 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 favorite breed. Perhaps the animal acted as a mnemonic 
 symbol, for Gregor was never afterwards accused of for 
 getfulness. 
 
 If this trick put the Prince in a good humor, some 
 thing presently occurred which carried him to the oppo 
 site extreme. While taking his customary siesta one af 
 ternoon, a wild young fellow one of his noble poor rela 
 tions, who " sponged " at the castle happened to pass 
 along a corridor outside of the very hall where his High 
 ness was snoring. Two ladies in waiting looked down 
 from an upper window. The young fellow perceived 
 them, and made signs to attract their attention. Having 
 succeeded in this, he attempted, by all sorts of antics 
 and grimaces, to make them laugh or speak ; but he failed, 
 for the slumber-flag waved over them, and its fear was 
 upon them. Then, in a freak of incredible rashness, he 
 sang, in a loud voice, the first line of a popular ditty, and 
 took to his heels. 
 
 No one had ever before dared to insult the sacred quiet 
 The Prince was on his feet in a moment, and rushed into 
 the corridor, (dropping his mantle of sables by the way,) 
 shouting. 
 
 " Bring me the wretch who sang ! " 
 
 The domestics scattered before him, for his face was 
 terrible to look upon. Some of them had heard the voice, 
 indeed, but not one of them had seen the culprit, who al 
 ready lay upon a heap of hay in one of the stables, and 
 appeared to be sunk in innocent sleep. 
 
 " Who was it ? who was it ? " yelled the Prince, foam 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 2Q 
 
 ing at the mouth with rage, as he rushed from chamber to 
 chamber. 
 
 At last he halted at the top of the great flight of steps 
 leading into the court-yard, and repeated his demand in a 
 voice of thunder. The servants, trembling, kept at a safe 
 distance, and some of them ventured to state that the of 
 fender could not be discovered. The Prince turned and 
 entered one of the state apartments, whence came the 
 sound of porcelain smashed on the floor, and mirrors 
 shivered on the walls. Whenever they heard that sound, 
 the immates of the castle knew that a hurricane was let 
 loose. 
 
 They deliberated hurriedly and anxiously. What was 
 to be done ? In his fits of blind animal rage, there was 
 nothing of which the Prince was not capable, and the fit 
 could be allayed only by finding a victim. No one, how 
 ever, was willing to be a Curtius for the others, and mean 
 while the storm was increasing from minute to minute. 
 Some of the more active and shrewd of the household 
 pitched upon the leader of the band, a simple-minded, 
 good-natured serf, named Waska. They entreated him 
 to take upon himself the crime of having sung, offering 
 to have his punishment mitigated in every possible way. 
 He was proof against their tears, but not against the 
 money which they finally offered, in order to avert the 
 storm. The agreement was made, although Waska both 
 scratched his head and shook it, as he reflected upon the 
 probable result. 
 
 The Prince, after his work of destruction, again aj> 
 
3O BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 peared upon the steps, and with hoarse voice and flashing 
 eyes, began to announce that every soul in the castle 
 should receive a hundred lashes, when a noise was heard 
 in the court, and amid cries of " Here he is ! " " We ve 
 got him, Highness 1 " the poor Waska, bound hand and 
 foot, was brought forward. They placed him at the 
 bottom of the steps. The Prince descended until the two 
 stood face to face. The others looked on from court 
 yard, door, and window. A pause ensued, during which 
 no one dared to breathe. 
 
 At last Prince Alexis spoke, in a loud and terrible 
 voice 
 
 " It was you who sang it ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Highness, it was I," Waska replied, in a 
 scarcely audible tone, dropping his head and mechanic 
 ally drawing his shoulders together, as if shrinking from 
 the coming blow. 
 
 It was full three minutes before the Prince again 
 spoke. He still held the whip in his hand, his eyes fixed 
 and the muscles of his face rigid. All at once the spell 
 seemed to dissolve : his hand fell, and he said in his or 
 dinary voice 
 
 " You sing remarkably well. Go, now : you shall 
 have ten rubles and an embroidered caftan for your sing 
 ing." 
 
 But any one would have made a great mistake who 
 dared to awaken Prince Alexis a second time in the same 
 manner. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 31 
 
 V. 
 
 PRINCE BORIS, in St. Petersburg, adopted the usual 
 habits of his class. He dressed elegantly ; he drove a 
 dashing troika ; he played, and lost mor.e frequently than 
 he won ; he took no special pains to shun any form of 
 fashionable dissipation. His money went fast, it is true ; 
 but twenty-five thousand rubles was a large sum in those 
 days, and Boris did not inherit his father s expensive 
 constitution. He was presented to the Empress ; but 
 his thin face, and mild, melancholy eyes did not make 
 much impression upon that ponderous woman. He fre 
 quented the salons of the nobility, but saw no face so 
 beautiful as that of Parashka, the serf-maiden who per 
 sonated Venus for Simon Petrovitch. The fact is, he had 
 a dim, undeveloped instinct of culture, and a crude, half- 
 conscious worship of beauty, both of which qualities 
 found just enough nourishment in the life of the capital 
 to tantalize ana never satisfy his nature. He was excited 
 by his new experience, but hardly happier. 
 
 Athough but three-and-twenty, he would never know 
 the rich, vital glow with which youth rushes to clasp all 
 forms of sensation. He had seen, almost daily, in his 
 father s castle, excess in its most excessive development. 
 It had grown to be repulsive, and he knew not how to 
 fill the void in his life. With a single spark of genius, 
 and a little more culture, he might have become a pass 
 able author or artist ; but he was doomed to be one of 
 those deaf and dumb natures that see the movements of 
 the lips of others, yet have no conception of sound. No 
 
j 2 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 wonder his savage old father looked upon him with con 
 tempt, for even his vices were without strength or charac 
 ter. 
 
 The dark winter days passed by, one by one, and the 
 first week of Lent had already arrived to subdue the 
 glittering festivities of the court, when the only genuine 
 adventure of the season happened to the young Prince. 
 For adventures, in the conventional sense of the word, he 
 was not distinguished ; whatever came to him must come 
 by its own force, or the force of destiny. 
 
 One raw, gloomy evening, as dusk was setting in, he 
 saw a female figure in a droschky, which was about turn 
 ing from the great Morskoi into the Gorokhovaya (Pea) 
 Street. He noticed, listlessly, that the lady was dressed 
 in black, closely veiled, and appeared to be urging the 
 istwstchik (driver) to make better speed. The latter cut 
 his horse sharply : it sprang forward, just at the turning, 
 and the droschky, striking a lamp-po<fc was instantly 
 overturned. The lady, hurled with great force upon the 
 solidly frozen snow, lay motionless, which the driver ob 
 serving, he righted the sled and drove off at full speed, 
 without looking behind him. It was not inhumanity, 
 but fear of the knout that hurried him away. 
 
 Prince Boris looked up and down the Morskoi, but 
 perceived no one near at hand. He then knelt upon the 
 snow, lifted the lady s head to his knee, and threw back 
 her veil. A face so lovely, in spite of its deadly pallor, 
 he had never before seen. Never had he even imagin 
 ed so perfect an oval, such a sweet, fair forehead, such 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 33 
 
 delicately pencilled brows, so fine and straight a nosfe, 
 such wonderful beauty of mouth and chin. It was for 
 tunate that she was not very severely stunned, for Prince 
 Boris was not only ignorant of the usual modes of restor 
 ation? in such cases, but he totally forgot their necessity, 
 in his rapt contemplation of the lady s face. Presently 
 she opened her eyes, and they dwelt, expressionless, but 
 bewildering in their darkness and depth, upon his own, 
 while her consciousness of things slowly returned. 
 
 She strove to rise, and Boris gently lifted and sup 
 ported her. She would have withdrawn from his help 
 ing arm, but was still too weak from the shock. He, 
 also, was confused and (strange to say) embarrassed ; 
 but he had self-possession enough to shout, " Davail" 
 (Here !) at random. The call was answered from the Ad 
 miralty Square ; a sled dashed up the Gorokhovaya and 
 halted beside him. Taking the single seat, he lifted 
 her gently upon his lap and held her very tenderly in 
 his arms. 
 
 "Where ? " asked the istvostchik. 
 
 Boris was about to answer " Anywhere ! " but the 
 lady whispered in a voice of silver sweetness, the name 
 of a remote street, near the Smolnoi Church. 
 
 As the Prince wrapped the ends of his sable pelisse 
 about her, he noticed that her furs were of the common 
 foxskin worn by the middle classes. They, with her heavy 
 boots and the threadbare cloth of her garments, by no 
 means justified his first suspicion, that she was a grandt 
 
 dame engaged in some romantic " adventure." She was 
 2* 
 
34 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 riot more than nineteen or twenty years of age, and he 
 felt without knowing what it was the atmosphere of 
 sweet, womanly purity and innocence which surrounded 
 her. The shyness of a lost boyhood surprised him. 
 
 By the time they had reached the Litenie, she had 
 fully recovered her consciousness and a portion of her 
 strength. She drew away from him as much as the nar 
 row sled would allow. 
 
 " You have been very kind, sir, and I thank you," she 
 said ; " but I am now able to go home without your fur 
 ther assistance." 
 
 " By no means, lady ! " said the Prince. " The streets 
 are rough, and here are no lamps. If a second~accident 
 were to happen, you would be helpless. Will you not 
 allow me to protect you ? " 
 
 She looked him in the face. In the dusky light, she 
 saw not the peevish, weary features of the worldling, but 
 only the imploring softness of his eyes, the full and per 
 fect honesty of his present emotion. She made no fur 
 ther objection ; perhaps she was glad that she could trust 
 the elegant stranger. 
 
 Boris, never before at a loss for words, even in the 
 presence of the Empress, was astonished to find how awk 
 ward were his attempts at conversation. She was pre 
 sently the more self-possessed of the two, and nothing 
 was ever so sweet to his ears as the few commonplace re 
 marks she uttered. In spite of the darkness and the 
 chilly air, the sled seemed to fly like lightning. Before 
 he supposed they had made half the way, she gave a sign 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 35 
 
 to the istvostchik, and they drew up before a plain nousc 
 of squared logs. 
 
 The two lower windows were lighted, and the dark fig 
 ure of an old man, with a skull-cap upon his head, was 
 framed in one of them. It vanished as the sled stopped ; 
 the door was thrown open and the man came forth hur 
 riedly, followed by a Russian nurse with a lantern. 
 
 " Helena, my child, art thou come at last ? What has 
 befallen thee ? " 
 
 He would evidently have said more, but the sight of 
 Prince Boris caused him to pause, while a quick shade of 
 suspicion and alarm passed over his face. The Prince 
 stepped forward, instantly relieved of his unaccustomed 
 timidity, and rapidly described the accident. The old 
 nurse Katinka, had meanwhile assisted the lovely Helena 
 into the house. 
 
 The old man turned to follow, shivering in the night- 
 air. Suddenly recollecting himself, he begged the Prince 
 to enter and take some refreshments, but with the air and 
 tone of a man who hopes that his invitation will not be 
 accepted. If such was really his hope, he was disap 
 pointed ; for Boris instantly commanded the istvostchik to 
 wait for him, and entered the humble dwelling. 
 
 The apartment into which he was ushered was spa 
 cious, and plainly, yet not shabbily furnished. A violon 
 cello and clavichord, with several portfolios of music, and 
 scattered sheets of ruled paper, proclaimed the profession 
 or the taste of the occupant Having excused himself a 
 moment to look after his daughter s condition, the old 
 
36 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 man, on his return, found Boris turning over the leaves 
 of a musical work. 
 
 " You see my profession," he said. " I teach music ? 
 " Do you not compose ? " asked the Prince. 
 " That was once my ambition. I was a pupil of Se 
 bastian Bach. But circumstances necessity brought 
 me here. Other lives changed the direction of mine. It 
 was right ! " 
 
 " You mean your daughter s ? " the Prince gently sug 
 gested. 
 
 " Hers and her mother s. Our story was well known 
 in St. Petersburg twenty years ago, but I suppose no one 
 recollects it now. My wife was the daughter of a Baron 
 von Plauen, and loved music and myself better than her 
 home and a titled bridegroom. She escaped, we united 
 our lives, suffered and were happy together, and she 
 died. That is all." 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance 
 of Helena, with steaming glasses of tea. She was even 
 lovelier than before. Her close-fitting dress revealed the 
 symmetry of her form, and the quiet, unstudied grace of 
 her movements. Although her garments were of well- 
 worn material, the lace which covered her bosom was gen 
 uine point d Alen9on, of an old and rare pattern. Boris 
 felt that her air and manner were thoroughly noble ; he 
 rose and saluted her with the profoundest respect. 
 
 In spite of the singular delight which her presence oc 
 casioned him, he was careful not to prolong his visit be 
 yond the limits of strict etiquette. His name,Boris Alex- 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 37 
 
 eivitch, only revealed to his guests the name of his father, 
 without his rank ; and when he stated that he was employ 
 ed in one of the Departments, (which was true in a meas 
 ure, for he was a staff officer,) they could only look upon 
 him as being, at best, a member of some family whose 
 recent elevation to the nobility did not release them from 
 the necessity of Government service. Of course he em 
 ployed the usual pretext of wishing to study music, and 
 either by that or some other stratagem managed to leave 
 matters in such a shape that a second visit could not oc 
 casion surprise. 
 
 As the sled glided homewards over the crackling snow, 
 he was obliged to confess the existence of a new and pow 
 erful excitement. Was it the chance of an adventure, 
 such as certain of his comrades were continually seeking? 
 He thought not ; no, decidedly not. Was it could it be 
 love ? He really could not tell j he had not theslightset 
 idea what love was like. 
 
 VI. 
 
 IT was something at least, that the plastic and not un- 
 virtuous nature of the young man was directed towards a 
 definite object. The elements out of which he was made, 
 although . jomewhat diluted, were active enough to make 
 him uncomfortable, so long as they remained in a confused 
 state. He had very little power of introversion, but he 
 was sensible that his temperament was changing, that he 
 grew more cheerful and contented with life, that a chasm 
 
3^ BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 somewhere was filling up, just in proportion as his ac 
 quaintance with the old music-master and his daughter be 
 came more familiar. His visits were made so brief, were 
 so adroitly timed and accounted for by circumstances, that 
 by the close of Lent he could feel justified in making the 
 Easter call of a friend, and claim its attendant privileges, 
 without fear of being repulsed. 
 
 That Easter call was an era in his life. At the risk of 
 his wealth and rank being suspected, he dressed himself 
 in new and rich garments, and hurried away towards the 
 Smolnoi. The old nurse, Katinka, in her scarlet gown, 
 opened the door for him, and was the first to say, " Christ 
 is arisen ! " What could he do but give her the usual kiss ? 
 Formerly he had kissed hundreds of serfs, men and wo 
 men, on the sacred anniversary, with a passive good-will. 
 But Katinka s kiss seemed bitter, and he secretly rubbed 
 his mouth after it The music-master came next : grisly 
 though he might be, he was the St. Peter who stood at the 
 gate of heaven. Then entered Helena, in white, like an 
 angel. He took her hand, pronounced the Easter greet 
 ing, and scarcely waited for the answer, " Truly he has 
 arisen 1 " before his lips found the way to hers. For a 
 second they warmly trembled and glowed together ; and 
 in another second some new and sweet and subtle relation 
 seemed to be established between their natures. 
 
 That night Prince Boris wrote a long letter tc bis 
 " Mre maman" in piquantly misspelt French, giving her 
 the gossip of the court, and such family news as she usual 
 ly craved. The purport of the letter, however, was only 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 39 
 
 disclosed in the final paragraph, and then in so negative a 
 way that it is doubtful whether the Princess Martha fullj 
 understood it. 
 
 " Poingde mariajes pour moix I " he wrote, but we will 
 drop the original, " I don t think of such a thing yet 
 Paohkoff dropped a hint, the other day, but I kept my 
 eyes shut. Perhaps you remembet her ? fat, thick lips, 
 
 and crooked teeth. Natalie D said to me, " Have 
 
 you ever been in love, Prince ? " Have /, maman ? I did 
 not know what answer to make. What is love ? How does 
 one feel, when one has it ? They laugh at it here, and of 
 course I should not wish to do what is laughable. Give me 
 a hint : forewarned is forearmed, you know," etc., etc. 
 
 Perhaps the Princess Martha did suspect something ; 
 perhaps some word in her son s letter touched a secret 
 spot far back in her memory, and renewed a dim, if not 
 very intelligible, pain. She answered his question at 
 length, in the style of the popular French romances of 
 that day. She had much to say of dew and roses, turtle 
 doves and the arrows of Cupid. 
 
 " Ask thyself," she wrote, " whether felicity comes with 
 her presence, and distraction with her absence, whether 
 her eyes make the morning brighter for thee, and her 
 tears fall upon thy heart like molten lava, whether heav 
 en would be black and dismal without her company, and 
 the flames of hell turn into roses under her feet." 
 
 It was very evident that the good Princess Martha had 
 never felt nay, did not comprehend a passion such as 
 she described. 
 
40 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 Prince Boris, however, whose veneration for his moth 
 cr was unbounded, took her words literally, and applied 
 the questions to himself. Although he found it difficult, 
 in good faith and sincerity, to answer all of them affirm a 
 lively (he was puzzled, for instance, to know the sensation 
 of molten lava falling upon the heart), yet the general con 
 clusion was inevitable : Helena was necessary to his hap 
 piness. 
 
 Instead of returning to Kinesma for the summer, as 
 had been arranged, he determined to remain in St. Peters 
 burg, under the pretence of devoting himself to military 
 studies. This change of plan occasioned more disap 
 pointment to the Princess Martha than vexation to Prince 
 Alexis. The latter only growled at the prospect of being 
 called upon to advance a further supply of rubles, slightly 
 comforting himself with the muttered reflection, 
 
 " Perhaps the brat will make a man of himself, aftei 
 all." 
 
 It was not many weeks, in fact, before the expected 
 petition came to hand. The Princess Martha had also 
 foreseen it, and instructed her son how to attack his fath 
 er s weak side. The latter was furiously jealous of certain 
 other noblemen of nearly equal wealth, who were with him 
 at the court of Peter the Great, as their sons now were at 
 that of Elizabeth. Boris compared the splendor of these 
 young noblemen with his own moderate estate, fabled a 
 few " adventures " and drinking-bouts, and announced his 
 determination of doing honor to the name which Prince 
 Alexis of Kinesma had left behind him in the capital. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 41 
 
 There was cursing at the castle when the letter arrived. 
 Many serfs felt the sting of the short whip, -.he slumber 
 flag was hoisted five minutes later than usual, and the con 
 sumption of Cognac was alarming ; but no mirror was 
 smashed, and when Prince Alexis read the letter to his 
 poor relations, he even chuckled over some portions of it. 
 Boris had boldly demanded twenty thousand rubles, in the 
 desperate hope of receiving half that amount, and he 
 had calculated correctly. 
 
 Before midsummer he was Helena s accepted lover. 
 Not, however, until then, when her father had given his 
 consent to their marriage in the autumn, did he disclose 
 his true rank. The old man s face lighted up with a glow 
 of selfish satisfaction ; but Helena quietly took her lover s 
 hand, and said, 
 
 " Whatever you are, Boris, I will be faithful to you." 
 
 VII. 
 
 LEAVING Boris to discover the exact form and sub 
 stance of the passion of love, we will return for a time to 
 the castle of Kinesma. 
 
 Whether the Princess Martha conjectured what had 
 transpired in St. Petersburg, or was partially informed of 
 it by her son, cannot now be ascertained. She was suffi 
 ciently weak, timid, and nervous, to be troubled with the 
 knowledge of the stratagem in which she had assisted in 
 order to procure money, and that the ever-present con 
 sciousness thereof would betray itself to the sharp eyes 
 
42 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 of her husband. Certain it is, that the demeanor of the 
 latter towards her and his household began to change 
 about the end of the summer. He seemed to have a 
 haunting suspicion, that, in some way he had been, or was 
 about to be, overreached. He grew peevish, suspicious, 
 and more violent than ever in his excesses. 
 
 When Mishka, the dissipated bear already described, 
 bit off one of the ears of Basil, a hunter belonging to the 
 castle, and Basil drew his knife and plunged it into Mish- 
 ka s heart, Prince Alexis punished the hunter by cutting 
 off his other ear, and sending him away to a distant es 
 tate. A serf, detected in eating a few of the pickled cher 
 ries intended for the Prince s botvinia, was placed in a 
 cask, and pickled cherries packed around him up to the 
 chin. There he was kept until almost flayed by the acid. 
 It was ordered that these two delinquents should never 
 afterwards be called by any other names than " Crop-Ear " 
 and " Cherry." 
 
 But the Prince s severest joke, which, strange to say, 
 in no wise lessened his popularity among the serfs, occur 
 red a month or two later. One of his leading passions 
 was the chase, especially the chase in his own forests, 
 with from one to two hundred men, and no one to dis 
 pute his Lordship. On such occasions, a huge barrel of 
 wine, mounted upon a sled, always accompanied the crowd, 
 and the quantity which the hunters received depended 
 upon the satisfaction of Prince Alexis with the game they 
 collected. 
 
 Winter had set in early and suddenly, and one day, aa 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 43 
 
 the Prince and his retainers emerged from the forest with 
 their forenoon s spoil, and found themselves on the bank 
 of the Volga, the water was already covered with a thin 
 sheet of ice. Fires were kindled, a score or two of hares 
 and a brace of deer were skinned, and the flesh placed on 
 sticks to broil ; skins of mead foamed and hissed into the 
 wooden bowls, and the cask of unbroached wine towered 
 in the midst. Prince Alexis had a good appetite; the 
 meal was after his heart ; and by the time he had eaten a 
 hare and half a flank of venison, followed by several bowls 
 of fiery wine, he was in the humor for sport. He ordered 
 a hole cut in the upper side of the barrel, as it lay ; then, 
 getting astride of it, like a grisly Bacchus, he dipped out 
 the liquor with a ladle, and plied his thirsty serfs until 
 they became as recklessly savage as he. 
 
 They were scattered over a slope gently falling from 
 the dark, dense fir-forest towards the Volga, where it ter 
 minated in a rocky palisade, ten to fifteen feet in height. 
 The fires blazed and crackled merrily in the frosty air ; 
 the yells and songs of the carousers were echoed back 
 from the opposite shore of the river. The chill atmos 
 phere, the lowering sky, and the approaching night could 
 not touch the blood of that wild crowd. Their faces 
 glowed and their eyes sparkled ; they were ready for any 
 deviltry which their lord might suggest. 
 
 Some began to amuse themselves by flinging the clean- 
 picked bones of deer and hare along the glassy ice of the 
 Volga. Prince Alexis, perceiving this diverson, cried out 
 in ecstasy, 
 
44 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 k< Oh, by St. Nicholas the Miracle- Worker, I ll give 
 you better sport than that, ye knaves ! Here s the ver> 
 place for a reisak, do you hear me children ? a retsakj 
 Could there be better ice ? and then the rocks to jump 
 from ! Come, children, come ! Waska, Ivan, Daniel, 
 you dogs, over with you ! " 
 
 Now the reisak was a gymnastic performance peculiar 
 to old Russia, and therefore needs to be described. It. 
 could become popular only among a people of strong 
 physical qualities, and in a country where swift rivers 
 freeze rapidly from sudden cold. Hence we are of the 
 opinion that it will not be introduced into our own winter 
 diversions. A spot is selected where the water is deep 
 and the current tolerably strong ; the ice must be about 
 half an inch in thickness. The performer leaps head 
 foremost from a rock or platform, bursts through the ice, 
 is carried under by the current, comes up some distance 
 below, and bursts through again. Both skill and strength 
 are required to do the feat successfully. 
 
 Waska, Ivan, Daniel, and a number of others, sprang 
 to the brink of the rocks and looked over. The wall 
 was not quite perpendicular, some large fragments having 
 fallen from above and lodged along the base. It would 
 therefore require a bold leap to clear the rocks and strike 
 the smooth ice. They hesitated, and no wonder. 
 
 Prince Alexis howled with rage and disappointment. 
 
 "The Devil take you, for a pack of whimpering 
 hounds I " he cried. " Holy Saints ! they are afraid to 
 
 make a retsak I " 
 
 tr;* 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 45 
 
 Ivan crossed himself and sprang. He cleared the 
 rocks, but, instead of bursting through the ice with his 
 head, fell at full length upon his back. 
 
 " O knave ! " yelled the Prince, " not to know where 
 his head is ! Thinks it s his back ! Give him fifteen 
 stripes." 
 
 Which was instantly done. 
 
 The second attempt was partially successful. One ot 
 the hunters broke through the ice, head foremost, going 
 down, but he failed to come up again ; so the feat was 
 aly half performed. 
 
 The Prince became more furiously excited. 
 
 " This is the way I m treated ! " he cried. " He forgets 
 all about finishing the reisak, and goes to chasing sterlet ! 
 May the carps eat him up for an ungrateful vagabond ! 
 Here, you beggars ! " (addressing the poor relations,) 
 " take your turn, and let me see whether you are men." 
 
 Only one of the frightened parasites had the courage 
 to obey. On reaching the brink, he shut his eyes in mor 
 tal fear, and made a leap at random. The next moment 
 he lay on the edge of the ice with one leg broken against 
 a fragment of rock. 
 
 This capped the climax of the Prince s wrath. He fell 
 into a state bordering on despair, tore his hair, gnashed 
 his teeth, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " They will be the death of me ! " was his lament. 
 " Not a man among them ! It wasn t so in the old times. 
 Such beautiful reisaks as I have seen ! But the people are 
 becoming 
 
46 BEAUTY AND THE: BEAST. 
 
 lains, will you force me to kill you ? You have dishon 
 ored and disgraced me ; I am ashamed to look my neigh 
 bors in the face. Was ever a man so treated ? " 
 
 The serfs hung down their heads, feeling somehow re 
 sponsible for their master s misery Some of them wept 
 out of a stupid sympathy with his tears. 
 
 All at once he sprang down from the cask, crying in a 
 gay, triumphant tone, 
 
 " I have it ! Bring me Crop-Ear. He s the fellow foi 
 a reisak, he can make three, one after another." 
 
 One of the boldest ventured to suggest that Crop-Ear 
 had been sent away in disgrace to another of the Prince s 
 estates. 
 
 " Bring him here, I say ? Take horses, and don t draw 
 rein going or coming. I will not stir from this spot until 
 Crop-Ear comes." 
 
 With these words, he mounted the barrel, and recom 
 menced ladling out the wine. Huge fires were made, for 
 the night was falling, and the cold had become intense, 
 ^resli game was skewered and set to broil, and the tragic 
 interlude of the revel was soon forgotten. 
 
 Towards midnight the sound of hoofs was heard, and 
 the messengers arrived with Crop- Ear. But, although the 
 latter had lost his ears, he was not inclined to split 
 his head. The ice, meanwhile, had become so strong 
 that a cannon-ball would have made no impression upon 
 it. Crop-Ear simply threw down a stone heavier than 
 himself, and, as it bounced and slid along the solid floor, 
 said to Prince Alexis, 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 47 
 
 " Am I to go back, Highness, or stay here ? " 
 "Here, my son. Thou rt a man. Come hither to 
 me." 
 
 Taking the serf s head in his hands, he kissed him on 
 both cheeks. Then he rode homeward through the dark, 
 iron woods, seated astride on the barrel, and steadying 
 himself with his arms around Crop-Ear s and Waska s 
 necks. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE health of the Princess Martha, always delicate, now 
 began to fail rapidly. She was less and less able to en 
 dure her husband s savage humors, and lived almost ex 
 clusively in her own apartments. She never mentioned 
 the name of Boris in his presence, for it was sure to throw 
 him into a paroxysm of fury. Floating rumors in regard 
 to the young Prince had reached him from the capital, 
 and nothing would convince him that his wife was not 
 cognizant of her son s doings. The poor Princess clung 
 to her boy as to all that was left her of life, and tried to 
 prop her failing strength with the hope of his speedy re 
 turn. She was now too helpless to thwart his wishes in 
 any way ; but she dreaded, more than death, the terrible 
 something which would surely take place between father 
 and son if her conjectures should prove to be true. 
 
 One day, in the early part of November, she received 
 a letter from Boris, announcing his marriage. She hau 
 barely strength and presence of mind enough to conceal 
 
48 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 the paper in her bosom before sinking in a swoon. 65 
 some means or other the young Prince had succeeded in 
 overcoming all the obstacles to such a step : probably the 
 favor of the Empress was courted, in order to obtain her 
 consent The money he had received, he wrote, would 
 be sufficient to maintain them for a few months, though 
 not in a style befitting their rank. He was proud and 
 happy ; the Princess Helena would be the reigning beau 
 ty of the court, when he should present her, but he de 
 sired the sanction of his parents to the marriage, before 
 taking his place in society. He would write immediate!] 
 to his father, and hoped, that, if the news brought a storm 
 Mishka might be on hand to divert its force, as on a form 
 er occasion. 
 
 Under the weight of this imminent secret, the Princes?* 
 Martha could neither eat nor sleep. Her body wasted 
 to a shadow ; at every noise in the castle, she started and 
 listened in terror, fearing that the news had arrived. 
 
 Prince Boris, no doubt, found his courage fail him 
 when he set about writing the promi ted letter ; for a fort 
 night elapsed before it made its appearance. Prince Al 
 exis received it on his return from the chase. He rei. \ it 
 hastily through, uttered a prolonged roar like that if a 
 wounded bull, and rushed into the castle. The souml of 
 breaking furniture, of crashing porcelain and shivered 
 glass, came from the state apartments : the domestics fell 
 on their knees and prayed ; the Princess, who heard the 
 noise and knew what it portended, became almost insensi 
 ble from fright 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 49 
 
 One of the upper servants entered a chamber as the 
 prince was in the act of demolishing a splendid malach- 
 te table, which had escaped all his previous attacks. He 
 was immediately greeted with a cry of, 
 
 " Send the Princess to me ! " 
 
 " Her Highness is not able to leave her chamber," 
 the man replied. 
 
 How it happened he could never afterwards describe 
 but he found himself lying in a corner of the room. When 
 he arose, there seemed to be a singular cavity in his 
 mouth : his upper front teeth were wanting. 
 
 We will not narrate what took place in the chambei 
 of the Princess. The nerves of the unfortunate woman 
 had been so wrought upon by her fears, that her husband s 
 brutal rage, familiar to her from long experience, now 
 possessed a new and alarming significance. His threats 
 were terrible to hear she fell into convulsions, and be 
 fore morning her tormented life was at an end. 
 
 There was now something else to think of, and the 
 smashing of porcelain and cracking of whips came to an 
 end. The Archimandrite was summoned, and prepara 
 tions, both religious and secular, were made for a funeral 
 worthy the rank of the deceased. Thousands flocked to 
 Kinesma ; and when the immense procession moved 
 away from the castle, although very few of the persons had 
 ever known or cared in the least, for the Princess Martha, 
 all, without exception, shed profuse tears. Yes, there 
 was one exception, one bare, dry rock, rising alone out 
 
 of the universal deluge, Prince Alexis himself, who walked 
 3 
 
50 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 behind the coffin, his eyes fixed and his features rigid 
 as stone. They remarked that his face was haggard, and 
 that the fiery tinge on his cheeks and nose had faded into 
 livid purple. The only sign of emotion which he gave 
 was a convulsive shudder, which from time to time pass 
 ed over his whole body. 
 
 Three archimandrites (abbots) and one hundred priests 
 headed the solemn funeral procession from the castle to 
 the church on the opposite hill. There the mass for the 
 dead was chanted, the responses being sung by a choir 
 of silvery boyish voices. All the appointments were of 
 the costliest character. Not only all those within the 
 church, but the thousands outside, spared not their tears, 
 but wept until the fountains were exhausted. Notice was 
 given, at the close of the services, that " baked meats" 
 would be furnished to the multitude, and that all beggars 
 who came to Kinesma would be charitably fed for the 
 space of six weeks. Thus, by her death, the amiable 
 Princess Martha was enabled to dispense more jcharity 
 than had been permitted to her life. 
 
 At the funeral banquet which followed, Prince Alexis 
 placed the Abbot Sergius at his right hand, and convers 
 ed with him in the most edifying manner upon the necessi 
 ty of leading a pure and godly life. His remarks upon 
 the duty of a Christian, upon brotherly love, humility, and 
 self-sacrifice, brought tears into the eyes of the listening 
 priests. He expressed his conviction that the departed 
 Princess, by the piety of her life, had attained unto salva 
 tion, and added, that his own life had now no fur 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 5 1 
 
 ther value unless he should devote it to religious ex 
 ercises. 
 
 "Can you not give me a place in your monastery ? 
 he asked, turning to the Abbot. " I will endow it with a 
 gift of forty thousand rubles, for the privilege of occupy 
 ing a monk s cell." 
 
 " Pray, do not decide too hastily, Highness," the Ab 
 bot replied. " You have yet a son." 
 
 " What ! " yelled Prince Alexis, with flashing eyes, 
 every trace of humility and renunciation vanishing like 
 smoke, " what ! Borka ? The infamous wretch who 
 has ruined me, killed his mother, and brought disgrace 
 upon our name ? Do you know that he has married a 
 wench of no family and without a farthing, who would 
 be honored, if I should allow her to feed my hogs ? Live 
 for him ? live for him ? Ah-r-r-r ! " 
 
 This outbreak terminated in a sound between a snarl 
 and a bellow. The priests turned pale, but the Abbot 
 devoutly remarked 
 
 " Encompassed by sorrows, Prince, you should hum 
 bly submit to the will of the Lord." 
 
 " Submit to Borka?" the Prince scornfully laughed. 
 "I know what I ll do. There s time enough yet for a 
 wife and another child, ay, a dozen children ! I can 
 have my pick in the province ; and if I couldn t I d 
 sooner take Masha, the goose-girl, than leave Borka the 
 hope of stepping into my shoes. Beggars they shall be, 
 beggars ! " 
 
 What further he might have said was interrupted b> 
 
52 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 the priests rising to chant the Blajennon uspennie (blessed 
 be the dead), after which, the trisna, a drink composed 
 of mead, wine, and rum, was emptied to the health of the 
 departed soul. Every one stood during this ceremony, 
 except Prince Alexis, who fell suddenly prostrate before 
 the consecrated pictures, and sobbed so passionately that 
 the tears of the guests flowed for the third time. There 
 he lay until night ; for whenever any one dared to touch 
 him, he struck out furiously with fists and feet. Finally 
 he fell asleep on the floor, and the servants then bore him 
 to his sleeping apartment. 
 
 For several days afterward his grief continued to be 
 so violent that the occupants of the castle were obliged 
 to keep out of his way. The whip was never out of his 
 hand, and he used it very recklessly, not always selecting 
 the right person. The parasitic poor relations found 
 their situation so uncomfortable, that they decided, one 
 and all, to detach themselves from the tree upon which 
 they fed and fattened, even at the risk of withering on a 
 barren soil. Night and morning the serfs prayed upon 
 their knees, with many tears and groans, that the Saints 
 might send consolation, in any form, to their desperate 
 lord. 
 
 The Saints graciously heard and answered the prayer. 
 Word came that a huge bear had been seen in the forest 
 stretching towards Juriewetz. The sorrowing Prince 
 pricked up his ears, threw down his whip, and ordered a 
 chase. Sasha, the broad-shouldered, the cunning, the 
 ready, the untiring companion of his master, secretly or 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 53 
 
 dered a cask of vodki to follow the crowd of hunters and 
 serfs. There was a steel-bright sky, a low, yellow sun, 
 and a brisk easterly wind from the heights of the Ural. 
 As the crisp snow began to crunch under the Prince s 
 sled, his followers saw the old expression come back to 
 his face. With song and halloo and blast of horns, they 
 swept away into the forest. 
 
 Saint John the Hunter must have been on guard over 
 Russia that day. The great bear was tracked, and after 
 a long and exciting chase, fell by the hand of Prince 
 Alexis himself. Halt was made in an open space in the 
 forest, logs were piled together and kindled on the snow, 
 and just at the right moment (which no one knew better 
 than Sasha)the cask of vodki rolled into its place. When 
 the serfs saw the Prince mount astride of it, with his ladle 
 in his hand, they burst into shouts of extravagant joy. 
 " Slava JBogu!" (Glory be to God !) came fervently from 
 the bearded lips of those hard, rough, obedient children. 
 They tumbled headlong over each other, in their efforts 
 to drink first from the ladle, to clasp the knees or kiss the 
 hands of the restored Prince. And the dawn was glim 
 mering against the eastern stars, as they took the way to 
 the castle, making the ghostly fir-woods ring with shout 
 and choric song. 
 
 Nevertheless, Prince Alexis was no longer the same 
 man ; his gian. strength and furious appetite were broken. 
 He was ever ready, as formerly, for the chase and the 
 drinking-bout ; but his jovial mood no longer grew into a 
 crisis which only utter physical exhaustion or the stupidi- 
 
54 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 ty of drunkenness could overcome. Frequently, while 
 astride the cask, his shouts of laughter would suddenly 
 cease, the ladle would drop from his hand, and he woula 
 sit motionless, staring into vacancy for five minutes at a 
 time. Then the serfs, too, became silent, and stood still, 
 awaiting a change. The gloomy mood passed away as 
 suddenly. He would start, look about him, and say, in a 
 melancholy voice, 
 
 " Have I frightened you, my children ? It seems to 
 me that I am getting old. Ah, yes, we must all die, one 
 day. But we need not think about it, until the time comes. 
 The Devil take me for putting it into my head ! Why, 
 how now ? can t you sing, children ? " 
 
 Then he would strike up some ditty which they all 
 knew : a hundred voices joined in the strain, and the hills 
 once more rang with revelry. 
 
 Since the day when the Princess Martha was buried, 
 the Prince had not again spoken of marriage. No one, 
 of course, dared to mention the name of Boris in his pres 
 ence. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE young Prince had, in reality, become the happy 
 husband of Helena. His love for her had grown to be a 
 shaping and organizing influence, without which his na 
 ture would have fallen into its former confusion. If a 
 thought of a less honorable relation had ever entered his 
 mind, it was presently banished by the respect which a 
 nearer intimacy inspired ; and thus Helena, magnetically 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 55 
 
 drawing to the surface only his best qualities, loved, un 
 consciously to herself, her own work in him. Ere long, 
 she saw that she might balance the advantages he had 
 conferred upon her in their marriage by the support and 
 encouragement which she was able to impart to him ; and 
 this knowledge, removing all painful sense of obligation, 
 made her both happy and secure in her new position. 
 
 The Princess Martha, under some presentiment of 
 her approaching death, had intrusted one of the ladies in 
 attendance upon her with the secret of her son s marriage, 
 in addition to a tender maternal message, and such pres 
 ents of money and jewelry as she was able to procure 
 without her husband s knowledge. These presents reached 
 Boris very opportunely ; for, although Helena developed 
 a wonderful skill in regulating his expenses, the spring 
 was approaching, and even the limited circle of society in 
 which they had moved during the gay season had made 
 heavy demands upon his purse. He became restless and 
 abstracted, until his wife, who by this time clearly com 
 prehended the nature of his trouble, had secretly decided 
 how it must be met. 
 
 The slender hoard of the old music-master, with a few 
 thousand rubles from Prince Boris, sufficed for his mod 
 est maintenance. Being now free from the charge of his 
 daughter, he determined to visit Germany, and, if circum 
 stances were propitious, to secure a refuge for his old age 
 in his favorite Leipsic. Summer was at hand, and the 
 court had already removed to Oranienbaum. In a few 
 weeks the capital would be deserted. 
 
5 6 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 " Shall we go to Germany with your father ? " asked 
 Boris, as he sat at a window with Helena, enjoying the 
 long twilight. 
 
 " No, my Boris," she answered ; " we will go to 
 Kinesma." 
 
 "But Helena, golubchik, mon ange, are you in 
 earnest ? " 
 
 " Yes, my Boris. The last letter from your our 
 cousin Nadej da convinces me that the step must be taken. 
 Prince Alexis has grown much older since your mother s 
 death ; he is lonely and unhappy. He may not welcome 
 us, but he will surely suffer us to come to him ; and we 
 must then begin the work of reconciliation. Reflect, my 
 Boris, that you have keenly wounded him in the tenderest 
 part, his pride, and you must therefore cast away your 
 own pride, and humbly and respectfully, as becomes a 
 son, solicit his pardon." 
 
 " Yes," said he, hesitatingly, " you are right. But I 
 know his violence and recklessness, as you do not. For 
 myself, alone, I am willing to meet him ; yet I fear for 
 your sake. Would you not tremble to encounter a mad 
 dened and brutal mujik ? then how much more to meet 
 Alexis Pavlovitch of Kinesma ! " 
 
 " I do not and shall not tremble," she replied. " It 
 is not your marriage that has estranged your father, but 
 your marriage with me. Having been, unconsciously, the 
 cause of the trouble, I shall deliberately, and as a sacred 
 duty, attempt to remove it. Let us go to Kinesma, as 
 humble, penitent children, and cast ourselves upon youi 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 57 
 
 father s mercy. At the worst, he can but reject us ; and 
 you will have given me the consolation of knowing that I 
 have tried, as your wife, to annul the sacrifice you have 
 made for my sake." 
 
 " Be it so, then ! " cried Boris, with a mingled feeling 
 of relief and anxiety. 
 
 He was not unwilling that the attempt should be 
 made, especially since it was his wife s desire ; but he 
 knew his father too well to anticipate immediate success. 
 All threatening possibilities suggested themselves to his 
 mind ; all forms of insult and outrage which he had seen 
 perpetrated at Kinesma filled his memory. The suspense 
 became at last worse than any probable reality. He wrote 
 to his father, announcing a speedy visit from himself and 
 his wife ; and two days afterwards the pair left St. Peters 
 burg in a large travelling kibitka. 
 
 X. 
 
 WHEN Prince Alexis received his son s letter, an ex 
 pression of fierce, cruel delight crept over his face, and 
 there remained, horribly illuminating its haggard features. 
 The orders given for swimming horses in the Volga one 
 of his summer diversions were immediately counter 
 manded ; he paced around the parapet of the castle-wall 
 un .il near midnight, followed by Sasha with a stone jug 
 of vodki. The latter had the useful habit, notwithstand 
 ing his stupid face, of picking up the fragments of solilo 
 quy which the Prince dropped, and answering them as if 
 
$8 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 talking to himself. Thus he improved upon and per 
 fected many a hint of cruelty, and was too discreet evei 
 to dispute his master s claim to the invention. 
 
 Sasha, we may be sure, was busy with his devil s work 
 that night The next morning the stewards and agents 
 of Prince Alexis, in castle, village, and field, were sum 
 moned to his presence. 
 
 " Hark ye ! " said he ; " Borka and his trumpery wife 
 send me word that they will be here to-morrow. See to 
 it that every man, woman, and child, for ten versts out on 
 the Moskovskoi road, knows of their coming. Let it be 
 known that whoever uncovers his head before them shall 
 uncover his back for a hundred lashes. Whomsoever 
 they greet may bark like a dog, meeouw like a cat, or bray 
 like an ass, as much as he chooses ; but if he speaks a 
 decent word, his tongue shall be silenced with stripes. 
 Whoever shall insult them has my pardon in advance. 
 Oh, let them come ! ay, let them come ! Come they 
 may : but how they go away again " 
 
 The Prince Alexis suddenly stopped, shook his head, 
 and walked up and down the hall, muttering to himself. 
 His eyes were bloodshot, and sparkled with a strange 
 light. What the stewards had heard was plain enough \ 
 but that something more terrible than insult was yet held in 
 reserve they did not doubt It was safe, therefore, not 
 only to fulfil, but to exceed, the letter of their instruc 
 tions. Before night the whole population were acquainted 
 with their duties ; and an unusual mood of expectancy 
 not unmixed with brutish glee, fell upon Kinesma. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 59 
 
 By the middle of the next forenoon, Boris and his 
 wife, seated in the open kibitka, drawn by post-horses, 
 reached the boundaries of the estate, a few versts from 
 the village. They were both silent and slightly pale at 
 first, but now began to exchange mechanical remarks, to 
 divert each other s thoughts from the coming reception. 
 
 " Here are the fields of Kinesma at last ! " exclaimed 
 Prince Boris. " We shall see the church and castle from 
 the top of that hill in the distance. And there is Peter, 
 my playmate, herding the cattle ! Peter ! Good-day, 
 brotherkin ! " 
 
 Peter looked, saw the carriage close upon him, and, 
 after a moment of hesitation, let his arms drop stiffly by 
 his sides, and began howling like a mastiff by moonlight. 
 Helena laughed heartily at this singular response to the 
 greeting ; but Boris, after the first astonishment was over, 
 looked terrified. 
 
 "That was done by order," said he, with a bitter 
 smile. "The old bear stretches his claws out. Dare 
 you try his hug ? " 
 
 " I do not fear," she answered ; her face was calm. 
 
 Every serf they passed obeyed the order of Prince 
 Alexis according to his own idea of disrespect. One 
 turned his back \ another made contemptuous grimaces 
 and noises ; another sang a vulgar song \ another spat 
 upon the ground or held his nostrils. Nowhere was a 
 cap raised, or the stealthy welcome of a friendly glance 
 given. 
 
 The Princess Helena met these insults with a calm 
 
60 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 proud indifference. Boris felt them more keenly ; for tta 
 fields and hills were prospectively his property, and so 
 also were the brutish peasants. It was a form of chas 
 tisement which he had never before experienced, and 
 knew not how to resist. The affront of an entire com 
 munity was an offence against which he felt himself to be 
 helpless. 
 
 As they approached the town, the demonstrations of 
 insolence were redoubled. About two hundred boys, be 
 tween the ages of ten and fourteen, awaited them on the 
 hill below the church, forming themselves into files on 
 either side of the road. These imps had been instructed 
 to stick out their tongues in derision, and howl, as the 
 carriage passed between them. At the entrance of the 
 long main street of Kinesma, they were obliged to pass 
 under a mock triumphal arch, hung with dead dogs and 
 drowned cats ; and from this point the reception assumed 
 an outrageous character. Howls, hootings, and hisses 
 were heard on all sides ; bouquets of nettles and vile 
 weeds were flung to them ; even wreaths of spoiled fish 
 dropped from the windows. The women were the most 
 eager and uproarious in this carnival of insult : they beat 
 their saucepans, threw pails of dirty water upon the 
 horses, pelted the coachman with rotten cabbages, and 
 filled the air with screeching and foul words. 
 
 It was impossible to pass through this ordeal with in 
 difference. Boris, finding that his kindly greetings were 
 thrown away, that even his old acquaintances in the 
 bazaar howled like the rest, sat with head bowed and 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 6 1 
 
 despair in his heart. The beautiful eyes of Helena were 
 heavy with tears ; but she no longer trembled, for she 
 knew the crisis was yet to come. 
 
 As the kibitka slowly climbed the hill on its way to 
 the castle-gate, Prince Alexis, who had heard and enjoyed 
 the noises in the village from a balcony on the western 
 tower, made his appearance on the head of the steps 
 which led from the court-yard to the state apartments. 
 The dreaded whip was in his hand ; his eyes seemed 
 about to start from their sockets, in their wild, eager, 
 hungry gaze ; the veins stood out like cords on his fore 
 head j and his lips, twitching involuntarily, revealed the 
 glare of his set teeth. A frightened hush filled the castle. 
 Some of the domestics were on their knees ; others watch 
 ing, pale and breathless, from the windows : for all felt 
 that a greater storm than they had ever experienced was 
 about to burst. Sasha and the castle-steward had taken 
 the wise precaution to summon a physician and a priest, 
 provided with the utensils for extreme unction. Both of 
 these persons had been smuggled in through a rear en 
 trance, and were kept concealed until their services should 
 be required. 
 
 The noise of wheels was heard outside the gate, which 
 stood invitingly open. Prince Alexis clutched his whip 
 with iron fingers, and unconsciously took the attitude of a 
 wild beast about to spring from its ambush. Now the 
 hard clatter of hoofs and the rumbling of wheels echoed 
 from the archway, and the kibitka rolled into the court 
 yard. It stopped near the foot of the grand staircase, 
 
62 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 Boris, who sat upon the farther side, rose to alight, in 
 order to hand down his wife ; but no sooner had he made 
 a movement than Prince Alexis, with lifted whip and 
 face flashing fire, rushed down the steps. Helena rose, 
 threw back her veil, let her mantle (which Boris had 
 grasped, in his anxiety to restrain her action,) fall behind 
 her, and stepped upon the pavement. 
 
 Prince Alexis had already reached the last step, and 
 but a few feet separated them. He stopped as if struck 
 by lightning, his body still retaining, in every limb, the 
 impress of motion. The whip was in his uplifted fist ; 
 one foot was on the pavement of the court, and the other 
 upon the edge of the last step; his head was bent 
 forward, his mouth open, and his eyes fastened upon the 
 Princess Helena s face. 
 
 She, too, stood motionless, a form of simple and per 
 fect grace, and met his gaze with soft, imploring, yet 
 courageous and trustful eyes. The women who watched 
 the scene from the galleries above always declared that 
 an invisible saint stood beside her in that moment, and 
 surrounded her with a dazzling glory. The few moments 
 during which the suspense of a hundred hearts hung upon 
 those encountering eyes seemed an eternity. 
 
 Prince Alexis did not move, but he began to tremble 
 from head to foot. His fingers relaxed, and the whip fell 
 ringing upon the pavement. The wild fire of his eyes 
 changed from wrath into an ecstasy as intense, and a 
 piercing cry of mingled wonder, admiration and delight 
 burst from his throat. At that cry Boris rushed forward 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 63 
 
 and knelt at his feet. Helena, clasping her fairest hands, 
 sank beside her husband, with upturned face, as if seek 
 ing the old man s eyes, and perfect the miracle she had 
 wrought 
 
 The sight of that sweet face, so near his own, tamed 
 the last lurking ferocity of the beast. His tears burst 
 forth in a shower; he lifted and embraced the Princess, 
 kissing her brow, her cheeks, her chin, and her hands, 
 calling her his darling daughter, his little white dove his 
 lambkin. 
 
 " And, father, my Boris, too ! " said she. 
 
 The pure liquid voice sent thrills of exquisite delight 
 through his whole frame. He embraced and blessed Bo 
 ris, and then, throwing an arm around each, held them to 
 his breast, and wept passionately upon their heads. By 
 this time the whole castle overflowed with weeping. Tears 
 fell from every window and gallery ; they hissed upon the 
 hot saucepans of the cooks ; they moistened the oats in 
 the manger ; they took the starch out of the ladies 
 ruffles, and weakened the wine in the goblets of the 
 guests. Insult was changed into tenderness in a moment. 
 Those who had barked or stuck out their tongues at Bo 
 ris rushed up to kiss his boots ; a thousand terms of en 
 dearment were showered upon him. 
 
 Still clasping his children to his breast, Prince Alexis 
 mounted the steps with them. At the top he turned, 
 cleared his throat, husky from sobbing, and shouted 
 
 " A feast ! a feast for all Kinesma ! Let there be riv 
 ers of vodki, wine and hydromel 1 Proclaim it everywhere 
 
64 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 that my dear son Boris and my dear daughter Helena 
 have arrived, and whoever fails to welcome them to Kines- 
 ma shall be punish ert with a hundred stripes ! Off, ye 
 scoundrels, ye vagabonds, and spread the news ! " 
 
 It was not an hour before the whole sweep of the 
 circling hills resounded with the clang of bells, the blare 
 of horns, and the songs and shouts of the rejoicing multi 
 tude. The triumphal arch of unsavory animals was 
 whirled into the Volga ; all signs of the recent reception 
 vanished like magic ; festive fir-boughs adorned the houses, 
 and the gardens and window-pots were stripped of their 
 choicest flowers to make wreaths of welcome. The two 
 hundred boys, not old enough to comprehend this sudden 
 boukversement of sentiment, did not immediately desist 
 from sticking out their tongues : whereupon they were 
 dismissed with a box on the ear. By the middle of the 
 afternoon all Kinesma was eating, drinking, and singing , 
 and every song was sung, and every glass emptied in 
 honor of the dear, good Prince Boris, and the dear, beau 
 tiful Princess Helena. By night all Kinesma was drunk. 
 
 XI. 
 
 IN the castle a superb banquet was improvised. Mu 
 sic, guests, and rare dishes were brought together with 
 wonderful speed, and the choicest wines of the cellar 
 were drawn upon. Prince Boris, bewildered by this sud 
 den and incredible change in his fortunes, sat at his fa 
 ther s right hand, while the Princess filled, but with much 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 65 
 
 more beauty and dignity, the ancient place of the Prin 
 cess Martha. The golden dishes were set before her, 
 and the famous family emeralds in accordance with the 
 command of Prince Alexis gleamed among her dark 
 hair and flashed around her milk-white throat. Her 
 beauty was of a kind so rare in Russia that it silenced 
 all question and bore down all rivalry. Every one ac 
 knowledged that so lovely a creature had never before 
 been seen. " Faith, the boy has eyes ! " the old Prince 
 constantly repeated, as he turned away from a new stare 
 of admiration, down the table. 
 
 The guests noticed a change in the character of the 
 entertainment. The idiot, in his tow shirt, had been 
 crammed to repletion in the kitchen, and was now asleep 
 in the stable. Razboi, the new bear, the successor of 
 the slaughtered Mishka, was chained up out of hearing. 
 The jugglers, tumblers, and Calmucks still occupied 
 their old place under the gallery, but their performances 
 were of a highly decorous character. At the least sign 
 of a relapse into certain old tricks, more grotesque 
 than refined, the brows of Prince Alexis would grow 
 dark, and a sharp glance at Sasha was sufficient to cor 
 rect the indiscretion. Every one found this natural 
 enough ; for they were equally impressed, with the ele 
 gance and purity of the young wife. After the healths 
 had been drunk and the slumber-flag was raised over the 
 castle, Boris led her into the splendid apartments of his 
 mother, now her own, and knelt at her feet. 
 
 " Have I done my part, my Boris ? " she asked. 
 
66 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 " You are an angel ! " he cried. " It was a mi-racle 
 My life was not worth a copek, and I feared for yours. li 
 it will only last ! if it will only last ! " 
 
 " It will" said she. " You have taken me from pov 
 erty, and given me rank, wealth, and a proud place in the 
 world : let it be my work to keep the peace whrch God 
 has permitted me to establish between you and your 
 father!" 
 
 The change in the old Prince, in fact, was more radi 
 cal than any one who knew his former ways of life would 
 have considered possible. He stormed and swore occa 
 sionally, flourished his whip to some purpose, and rode 
 home from the chase, not outside of a brandy cask, as 
 once, but with too much of its contents inside of -him : 
 but these mild excesses were comparative virtues. His 
 accesses of blind rage seemed to be at an end. A pow 
 erful, unaccustomed feeling of content subdued his strong 
 nature, and left its impress on his voice and features. 
 He joked and sang with his " children," but not with the 
 wild recklessness of the days of reisaks and indiscriminate 
 floggings. Both his exactions and his favors diminished 
 in quantity. Week after week passed by, and there was 
 no sign of any return to his savage courses. 
 
 Nothing annoyed him so much as a reference to his 
 former way of life, in the presence of the Princess He 
 lena. If her gentle, questioning eyes happened to rest 
 on him at such times, something very like a blush rose 
 into his face, and the babbler was silenced with a terri 
 bly significant look. It was enough for her to say, when 
 
BF.AUTY AND THE BEAST. 6? 
 
 he threatened an act of cruelty and injustice, " Father, is 
 that right ? " He confusedly retracted his orders, rather 
 than bear the sorrow of her face. 
 
 The promise of another event added to his happi 
 ness : Helena would soon become a mother. As the time 
 drew near he stationed guards at the distance of a verst 
 around the castle, that no clattering vehicles should pass, 
 no dogs bark loudly, nor any other disturbance occur 
 which might agitate the Princess. The choicest sweet 
 meats and wines, flowers from Moscow and fruits from 
 Astrakhan, were procured for her ; and it was a wonder 
 that the midwife performed her duty, for she had the fear 
 of death before her eyes. When the important day at last 
 arrived the slumber-flag was instantly hoisted, and no 
 mouse dared to squeak in Kinesma until the cannon an 
 nounced the advent of a new soul. 
 
 That night Prince Alexis lay down in the corridor, out 
 side of Helena s door : he glared fiercely at the nurse as she 
 entered with the birth-posset for the young mother. No 
 one else was allowed to pass, that night, nor the next 
 Four days afterwards, Sasha, having a message to the 
 Princess, and supposing the old man to be asleep, at 
 tempted to step noiselessly over his body. In a twinkle 
 the Prince s teeth fastened themselves in the serfs leg, 
 and held him with the tenacity of a bull-dog. Sasha 
 did not dare to cry out : he stood, writhing with pain, 
 until the strong jaws grew weary of their hold, and then 
 crawled away to dress the bleeding wound. After that, 
 no one tried to break the Prince s guard. 
 
68 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 The christening was on a magnificent scale. Prince 
 Paul of Kostroma was godfather, and gave the babe the 
 name of Alexis. As the Prince had paid his respects to 
 Helena just before the ceremony, it may be presumed 
 that the name was not of his own inspiration. The father 
 and mother were not allowed to be present, but they 
 learned that the grandfather had comported himself through 
 out with great dignity and propriety. The Archimandrite 
 Sergius obtained from the Metropolitan at Moscow a very 
 minute fragment of the true cross, which was encased in a 
 hollow bead of crystal, and hung around the infant s neck 
 by a fine gold chain, as a precious amulet. 
 
 Prince Alexis was never tired of gazing at his grandson 
 and namesake. 
 
 " He has more of his mother than of Boris," he would 
 say. " So much the better ! Strong dark eyes, like the 
 Great Peter, and what a goodly leg for a babe 1 Ha ! 
 he makes a tight little fist already, fit to handle a whip, 
 or " (seeing the expression of Helena s face) " or a 
 sword. He ll be a proper Prince of Kinesma, my daugh 
 ter, and we owe it to you." 
 
 Helena smiled, and gave him a grateful glance in re 
 turn. She had had her secret fears as to the complete con 
 version of Prince Alexis ; but now she saw in this babe a 
 new spell whereby he might be bound. Slight as was her 
 knowledge of men, she yet guessed the tyranny of long- 
 continued habits ; and only her faith, powerful in propor 
 tion as it was ignorant, gave her confidence in the result 
 of the difficult work she had undertaken. 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 69 
 
 XII. 
 
 ALAS ! the proud predictions of Prince Alexis, and tne 
 protection of the sacred amulet, were alike unavailing 
 The babe sickened, wasted away, and died in less than 
 two months after its birth. There was great and genuine 
 sorrow among the serfs of Kinesma. Each had received 
 a shining ruble of silver at the christening ; and, more 
 over, they were now beginning to appreciate the milder re 
 gime of their lord, which this blow might suddenly termin 
 ate. Sorrow, in such natures as his, exasperates instead 
 of chastening : they knew him well enough to recognize 
 the danger. 
 
 At first the old man s grief appeared to be of a stub 
 born, harmless nature. As soon as the funeral ceremonies 
 were over he betook himself to his bed, and there lay for 
 two days and nights, without eating a morsel of food. The 
 poor Princess Helena, almost prostrated by the blow, 
 mourned alone, or with Boris, in her own apartments. Her 
 influence, no longer kept alive by her constant presence, 
 as formerly, began to decline. When the old Prince 
 aroused somewhat from his stupor, it was not meat that 
 he demanded, but drink ; and he drank to angry excess. 
 Day after day the habit resumed its ancient sway, and the 
 whip and the wild-beast yell returned with it. The serfs 
 even began to tremble as they never had done, so long as 
 his vices were simply those of a strong man ; for now a 
 fiendish element seemed to be slowly creeping in. He 
 became horribly profane : they shuddered when he cursed 
 the venerable Metropolitan of Moscow, declaring that the 
 
7O BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 old sinner had deliberately killed his grandson, by send 
 ing to him, instead of the true cross of the Saviour, a piece 
 of the tree to which the impenitent thief was nailed. 
 
 Boris would have spared his wife the knowledge of 
 this miserable relapse, in her present sorrow, but the in 
 formation soon reached her in other ways. She saw the 
 necessity of .regaining, by a powerful effort, what she had 
 lost. She therefore took her accustomed place at the ta 
 ble, and resumed her inspection of household matters. 
 Prince Alexis, as if determined to cast off the yoke which 
 her beauty and gentleness had laid upon him, avoided 
 looking at her face or speaking to her, as much as possi 
 ble : when he did so, his manner was cold and unfriendly. 
 During her few days of sad retirement he had brought 
 back the bear Razboi and the idiot to his table, and vod- 
 ki was habitually poured out to him and his favorite serfs 
 in such a measure that the nights became hideous with 
 drunken tumult. 
 
 The Princess Helena felt that her beauty no longer 
 possessed the potency of its first surprise. It must now 
 be a contest of nature with nature, spiritual with animal 
 power. The struggle would be perilous, she foresaw, but 
 she did not shrink ; she rather sought the earliest occasion 
 to provoke it. 
 
 That occasion came. Some slight disappointment 
 brought on one of the old paroxysms of rage, and the ox-like 
 bellow of Prince Alexis rang through the castle. Boris 
 was absent, but Helena delayed not a moment to venture 
 into his father s presence. She found him in a hall over 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. /I 
 
 looking the court-yard, with his terrible whip in his hand, 
 giving orders for the brutal punishment of some scores of 
 serfs. The sight of her, coming thus unexpectedly upon 
 him, did not seem to produce the least effect. 
 
 " Father ! " she cried, in an earnest, piteous tone, 
 " what is it you do ? " 
 
 " Away, witch ! " he yelled. " I am the master in 
 Kinesma, not thou ! Away, or- 
 
 The fierceness with which he swung and cracked the 
 whip was more threatening than any words. Perhaps she 
 grew a shade paler, perhaps her hands were tightly clasped 
 in order that they might not tremble; but she did not 
 flinch from the encounter. She moved a step nearer, fixed 
 her gaze upon his flashing eyes, and said, in a low, firm 
 voice 
 
 " It is true, father, you are master here. It is easy to 
 rule over those poor, submissive slaves. But you are not 
 master over yourself ; you are lashed and trampled upon 
 by evil passions, and as much a slave as any of these. Be 
 not weak, my father, but strong ! " 
 
 An expression of bewilderment came into his face. No 
 such words had ever before been addressed to him, and 
 he knew not how to reply to them. The Princess Helena 
 followed up the effect she was not sure that it was an ad 
 vantage by an appeal to the simple, childish nature 
 which she believed to exist under his ferocious exterior. 
 For a minute it seemed as if she were about to re-establish 
 her ascendancy : then the stubborn resistance of the beast 
 returned. 
 
72 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 Among the portraits in the hall was one of the d& 
 ceased Princess Martha. Pointing to this, Helena cried 
 
 " See, my father ! here are the features of your sainted 
 wife ! Think that she looks down from her place among 
 the blessed, sees you, listens to your words, prays that 
 your hard heart may be softened ! Remember her last 
 farewell to you on earth, her hope of meeting you " 
 
 A cry of savage wrath checked her. Stretching one 
 huge, bony hand, as if to close her lips, trembling with 
 rage and pain, livid and convulsed in every feature of his 
 face, Prince Alexis reversed the whip in his right hand, 
 and weighed its thick, heavy butt for one crashing, fatal 
 blow. Life and death were evenly balanced. For an in 
 stant the Princess became deadly pale, and a sickening 
 fear shot through her heart. She could not understand 
 the effect of her words : her mind was paralyzed, and 
 what followed came without her conscious volition. 
 
 Not retreating a step, not removing her eyes from the 
 terrible picture before her, she suddenly opened her lips 
 and sang. Her voice of exquisite purity, power, and sweet 
 ness, filled the old hall and overflowed it, throbbing in 
 scarcely weakened vibrations through court-yard and cas 
 tle. The melody was a prayer the cry of a tortured 
 heart for pardon and repose ; and she sang it with almost 
 supernatural expression. Every sound in the castle was 
 hushed : the serfs outside knelt and uncovered their 
 heads. 
 
 The Princess could never afterwards describe, or more 
 than dimly recall, the exaltation of that moment. She 
 
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 73 
 
 sang in an inspired trance : from the utterance of the first 
 note the horror of the imminent fate sank out of sight 
 Her eyes were fixed upon the convulsed face, but she be 
 held it not : all the concentrated forces of her life flowed 
 into the music. She remembered, however, that Prince 
 Alexis looked alternately from her face to the portrait of 
 his wife ; that he at last shuddered and grew pale ; and 
 that, when with the closing note her own strength suddenly 
 dissolved, he groaned and fell upon the floor. 
 
 She sat down beside him, and took his head upon her 
 lap. For a long time he was silent, only shivering as if in 
 fever. 
 
 " Father ! " she finally whispered, " let me take you 
 away ! " 
 
 He sat up on the floor and looked around ; but as his 
 eyes encountered the portrait, he gave a loud howl and cov 
 ered his face with his hands. 
 
 " She turns her head ! " he cried. " Take her away, 
 she follows me with her eyes ! Paint her head black, and 
 cover it up ! " 
 
 With some difficulty he was borne to his bed, but he 
 would not rest until assured that his orders had been obey 
 ed, and the painting covered for the time with a coat of 
 lamp-black. A low, prolonged attack of fever followed, 
 during which the presence of Helena was indispensable to 
 his comfort. She ventured to leave the room only while 
 he slept. He was like a child in her hands ; and when 
 she commended his patience or his good resolutions, his 
 face beamed with joy and gratitude. He determined ( in 
 4 
 
74 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 
 
 good faith, this time) to enter a monastery and devote the 
 rest of his life to pious works. 
 
 But, even after his recovery, he was still too weak and 
 dependent on his children s attentions to carry out this res 
 olution. He banished from the castle all those of his poor 
 relations who were unable to drink vodki in moderation j 
 he kept careful watch over his serfs, and those who became 
 intoxicated (unless they concealed the fact in the stables 
 and outhouses) were severely punished : all excess disap 
 peared, and a reign of peace and gentleness descended 
 upon Kinesma. 
 
 In another year another Alexis was born, and lived, 
 and soon grew strong enough to give his grandfather the 
 greatest satisfaction he had everknown in his life, by tug 
 ging at his gray locks, and digging the small fingers into 
 his tamed and merry eyes. Many years after Prince Alex 
 is was dead the serfs used to relate how they had seen 
 him, in the bright summer afternoons, asleep in his arm 
 chair on the balcony, with the rosy babe asleep on his 
 bosom, and the slumber-flag waving over both. 
 
 Legends of the Prince s hunts, reisaks, and brutal revels 
 are still current along the Volga ; but they are now linked 
 to fairer and more gracious stories ; and the free Russian 
 farmers (no longer serfs) are never tired of relating inci 
 dents of the beauty, the courage, the benevolence, and the 
 saintly piety of the Good Lady of Kinesma. 
 
TALES OF HOME. 
 
 THE STRANGE FRIEND. 
 
 T would have required an intimate famil 
 iarity with the habitual demeanor of the 
 people of Londongrove to detect in them 
 an access of interest (we dare not say excite 
 ment), of whatever kind. Expression with 
 them was pitched to so low a key that its 
 changes might be compared to the slight variations in the 
 drabs and grays in which they were clothed. Yet that there 
 was a moderate, decorously subdued curiosity present in 
 the minds of many of them on one of the First-days of the 
 Ninth-month, in the year 1815, was as clearly apparent 
 to a resident of the neighborhood as are the indications 
 of a fire or a riot to the member of a city mob. 
 
 The agitations of the war which had so recently come 
 to an end had hardly touched this quiet and peaceful 
 community. They had stoutly " borne their testimony," 
 and faced the question where it could not be evaded , 
 and although the dashing Philadelphia militia had been 
 
/ TALES Ot HOME. 
 
 stationed at Camp Bloomfield, within four miles of them, 
 the previous year, these good people simply ignored the 
 fact. If their sons ever listened to the trumpets at a dis 
 tance, or stole nearer to have a peep at the uniforms, no 
 report of what they had seen or heard was likely to be 
 made at home. Peace brought to them a relief, like the 
 awakening from an uncomfortable dream : their lives at 
 once reverted to the calm which they had breathed for 
 thirty years preceding the national disturbance. In their 
 ways they had not materially changed for a hundred years. 
 The surplus produce of their farms more than sufficed for 
 the very few needs which those farms did not supply, and 
 they seldom touched the world outside of their sect ex 
 cept in matters of business. They were satisfied with 
 themselves and with their lot ; they lived to a ripe and 
 beautiful age, rarely " borrowed trouble," and were pa 
 tient to endure that which came in the fixed course of 
 things. If the spirit of curiosity, the yearning for an 
 active, joyous grasp of life, sometimes pierced through 
 this placid temper, and stirred the blood of the adoles 
 cent members, they were persuaded by grave voices, of 
 almost prophetic authority, to turn their hearts towards 
 " the Stillness and the Quietness." 
 
 It was the pleasant custom of the community to ar 
 rive at the meeting-house some fifteen or twenty minutes 
 before the usual time of meeting, and exchange quiet and 
 kindly greetings before taking their places on the plain 
 benches inside. As most of the families had lived during 
 the week on the solitude of their farms, they liked to see 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 77 
 
 their neighbors faces, and resolve, as it were, their sense 
 of isolation into the common atmosphere, before yielding 
 to the assumed abstraction of their worship. In this pre 
 liminary meeting, also, the sexes were divided, but rather 
 from habit than any prescribed rule. They were already 
 in the vestibule of the sanctuary ; their voices were sub 
 dued and their manner touched with a kind of reverence. 
 If the Londongrove Friends gathered together a few 
 minutes earlier on that September First-day ; if the younger 
 members looked more frequently towards one of the 
 gates leading into the meeting-house yard than towards 
 the other ; and if Abraham Bradbury was the centre of a 
 larger circle of neighbors than Simon Pen nock (although 
 both sat side by side on the highest seat of the gallery), 
 the cause of these slight deviations from the ordinary 
 behavior of the gathering was generally known. Abra 
 ham s son had died the previous Sixth-month, leaving a 
 widow incapable of taking charge of his farm on the 
 Street Road, which was therefore offered for rent. It 
 was not always easy to obtain a satisfactory tenant in 
 those days, and Abraham was not more relieved than sur 
 prised on receiving an application from an unexpected 
 quarter. A strange Friend, of stately appearance, called 
 upon him, bearing a letter from William Warner, in Ad 
 ams County, together with a certificate from a Monthly 
 Meeting on Long Island. After inspecting the farm ana 
 making close inquiries in regard to the people of the 
 neighborhood, he accepted the terms of rent, and had 
 now, with his family, been three or four days in possession 
 
; TALES OF HOME. 
 
 In this circumstance, it is true, there was nothing 
 strange, and the interest of the people sprang from some 
 other particulars which had transpired. The new-comer, 
 Henry Donnelly by name, had offered, in place of the 
 usual security, to pay the rent annually in advance ; his 
 speech and manner were not, in all respects, those of 
 Friends, and he acknowledged that he was of Irish birth j 
 and moreover, some who had passed the wagons bearing 
 his household goods had been struck by the peculiar pat 
 terns of the furniture piled upon them. Abraham Brad 
 bury had of course been present at the arrival, and the 
 Friends upon the adjoining farms had kindly given their 
 issistance, although it was a busy time of the year. 
 While, therefore, no one suspected that the farmer could 
 possibly accept a tenant of doubtful character, a general 
 sentiment of curious expectancy went forth to meet the 
 Donnelly family. 
 
 Even the venerable Simon Pennock, who lived in the 
 opposite part of the township, was not wholly free from 
 the prevalent feeling. " Abraham," he said, approaching 
 his colleague, " I suppose thee has satisfied thyself that 
 the strange Friend is of good repute." 
 
 Abraham was assuredly satisfied of one thing that 
 the three hundred silver dollars in his antiquated secre 
 tary at home were good and lawful coin. We will not say 
 that this fact disposed him to charity, but will only testify 
 that he answered thus : 
 
 " I don t think we have any right to question the cer 
 tificate from Islip, Simon ; and William Warner s word 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 79 
 
 (whom thee knows by hearsay) is that of a good and 
 honest man. Henry himself will stand ready to satisfy 
 thee, if it is needful." 
 
 Here he turned to greet a tall, fresh-faced youth, who 
 had quietly joined the group at the men s end of the meet 
 ing-house. He was nineteen, blue-eyed, and rosy, and a 
 little embarrassed by the grave, scrutinizing, yet not un 
 friendly eyes fixed upon him. 
 
 " Simon, this is Henry s oldest son, De Courcy," said 
 Abraham. 
 
 Simon took the youth s hand, saying, " Where did thee 
 get thy outlandish name ? " 
 
 The young man colored, hesitated, and then said, in a 
 low, firm voice, " It was my grandfather s name." 
 
 One of the heavy carriages of the place and period, 
 new and shiny, in spite of its sober colors, rolled into the 
 yard. Abraham Bradbury and De Courcy Donnelly set 
 forth, side by side, to meet it Out of it descended a tall, 
 broad-shouldered figure a man in the prime of life, 
 whose ripe, aggressive vitality gave his rigid Quaker garb 
 the air of a military undress. His blue eyes seemed to 
 laugh above the measured accents of his plain speech, and 
 the close crop of his hair could not hide its tendency to 
 curl. A bearing expressive of energy and the habit of 
 command was not unusual in the sect, strengthening, but 
 not changing, its habitual mask ; yet in Henry Donnelly 
 this bearing suggested one could scarcely explain why 
 a different experience. Dress and speech, in him, ex 
 pressed condescension rather than fraternal equality. 
 
80 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 He carefully assisted his wife to alight, and De Courcy 
 led the horse to the hitching-shed. Susan Donnelly was 
 a still blooming woman of forty ; her dress, of the plainest 
 color, was yet of the richest texture ; and her round, gen 
 tie, almost timid face looked forth like a girl s from the 
 shadow of her scoop bonnet. While she was greeting 
 Abraham Bradbury, the two daughters, Sylvia and Alice, 
 who had been standing shyly by themselves on the edge 
 of the group of women, came forward. The latter was a 
 model of the demure Quaker maiden ; but Abraham ex 
 perienced as much surprise as was possible to his nature 
 on observing Sylvia s costume. A light-blue dress, a 
 dark-blue cloak, a hat with ribbons, and hair in curls 
 what Friend of good standing ever allowed his daughter 
 thus to array herself in the fashion of the world ? 
 
 Henry read the question in Abraham s face, and pre 
 ferred not to answer it at that moment. Saying, " Thee 
 must make me acquainted with the rest of our brethren," 
 he led the way back to the men s end. When he had 
 been presented to the older members, it was time for 
 them to assemble in meeting. 
 
 The people were again quietly startled when Henry 
 Donnelly deliberately mounted to the third and highest 
 bench facing them, and sat down beside Abraham and 
 Simon. These two retained, possibly with some little in 
 ward exertion, the composure of their faces, and the 
 strange Friend became like unto them. His hands were 
 clasped firmly in his lap ; his full, decided lips were set 
 together, and his eyes gazed into vacancy from under the 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 8l 
 
 broad brim. De Courcy had removed his hat on enter 
 ing the house, but, meeting his father s eyes, replaced it 
 suddenly, with a slight blush. 
 
 When Simon Pennock and Ruth Treadwell had spoken 
 the thoughts which had come to them in the stillness, the 
 strange Friend arose. Slowly, with frequent pauses, as 
 if waiting for the guidance of the Spirit, and with that in 
 ward voice which falls so naturally into the measure of a 
 chant, he urged upon his hearers the necessity of seeking 
 the Light and walking therein. He did not always em 
 ploy the customary phrases, but neither did he seem to 
 speak the lower language of logic and reason ; while his 
 tones were so full and mellow that they gave, with every 
 slowly modulated sentence, a fresh satisfaction to the ear. 
 Even his broad a s and the strong roll of his r s, which 
 verified the rumor of his foreign birth, did not detract 
 from the authority of his words. The doubts which had 
 preceded him somehow melted away in his presence, and 
 he came forth, after the meeting had been dissolved by 
 the shaking of hands, an accepted tenant of the high 
 seat. 
 
 That evening, the family were alone in their new home. 
 The plain rush-bottomed chairs and sober carpet, in con 
 trast with the dark, solid mahogany table, and the silver 
 branched candle-stick which stood upon it, hinted of 
 former wealth and present loss ; and something of the 
 same contrast was reflected in the habits of the inmates. 
 While the father, seated in a stately arm-chair, read aloud 
 to his wife and children, Sylvia s eyes rested on a guitar- 
 4* 
 
82 TALES AROUND HOME. 
 
 case in the corner, and her fingers absently adjusted 
 themselves to the imaginary frets. De Courcy twisted 
 his neck as if the straight collar of his coat were a bad 
 fit, and Henry, the youngest boy, nodded drowsily from 
 time to time. 
 
 " There, my lads and lasses ! " said Henry Donnelly, 
 as he closed the book, " now we re plain farmers at last, 
 and the plainer the better, since it must be. There s 
 only one thing wanting " 
 
 He paused ; and Sylvia, looking up with a bright, 
 arch determination, answered : " It s too late now, father, 
 they have seen me as one of the world s people, as I 
 meant they should. When it is once settled as some 
 thing not to be helped, it will give us no trouble." 
 
 "Faith, Sylvia!" exclaimed De Courcy, "I almost 
 wish I had kept you company." 
 
 " Don t be impatient, my boy/ said the mother, gently. 
 " Think of the vexations we have had, and what a rest 
 this life will be ! " 
 
 " Think, also," the father added, " that I have the 
 heaviest work to do, and that thou lt reap the most of 
 what may come of it. Don t carry the old life to a land 
 where it s out of place. We must be what we seem to be, 
 every one of us 1 " 
 
 " So we will 1 " said Sylvia, rising from her seat, " I, 
 as well as the rest. It was what I said in the beginning, 
 you no, thee knows, father. Somebody must be inter 
 preter when the time comes ; somebody must remembei 
 while the rest of you are forgetting. Oh, I shall be talked 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 83 
 
 about, and set upon, and called hard names ; it won t be 
 so easy. Stay where you are, De Courcy ; that coat will 
 fit sooner than you think." 
 
 Her brother lifted his shoulders and made a grimace. 
 "I ve an unlucky name, it seems," said he. "The old 
 fellow I mean Friend Simon pronounced it outlandish. 
 Couldn t I change it to Ezra or Adonijah ? " 
 
 " Boy, boy" 
 
 " Don t be alarmed, father. It will soon be as Syl 
 via says ; thee s right, and mother is right. I ll let Syl 
 via keep my memory, and start fresh from here. We 
 must into the field to-morrow, Hal and I. There s no 
 need of a collar at the plough-tail." 
 
 They went to rest, and on the morrow not only the 
 boys, but their father were in the field. Shrewd, quick, 
 and strong, they made available what they knew of farm 
 ing operations, and disguised much of their ignorance, 
 while they learned. Henry Donnelly s first public ap 
 pearance had made a strong public impression in 
 his favor, which the voice of the older Friends soon 
 stamped as a settled opinion. His sons did their share, 
 by the amiable, yielding temper they exhibited, in ac 
 commodating themselves to the manners and ways of 
 the people. The graces which came from a better educa 
 tion, and possibly, more refined associations, gave them 
 an attraction, which was none the less felt because it was 
 not understood, to the simple-minded young men who 
 worked with the hired hands in their fathers fields. If 
 the Donnelly family had not been accustomed, in fbnnei 
 
84 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 days, to sit at the same table with laborers in shirt-sleeves, 
 and be addressed by the latter in fraternal phrase, no 
 little awkwardnesses or hesitations betrayed the fact 
 They were anxious to make their naturalization complete, 
 and it soon became so. 
 
 The " strange Friend " was now known in London- 
 grove by the familiar name of " Henry." He was a con 
 stant attendant at meeting, not only on First-days, but 
 also on Fourth -days, and whenever he spoke his words 
 were listened to with the reverence due to one who was 
 truly led towards the Light. This respect kept at bay 
 the curiosity that might still have lingered in some minds 
 concerning his antecedent life. It was known that he 
 answered Simon Pennock, who had ventured to approach 
 him with a direct question, in these words : 
 
 "Thee knows, Friend Simon, that sometimes a seal is 
 put upon our mouths for a wise purpose. I have learned 
 not to value the outer life except in so far as it is made 
 the manifestation of the inner life, and I only date my 
 own from the time when I was brought to a knowledge 
 of the truth. It is not pleasant to me to look upon 
 what went before ; but a season may come when it shall 
 be lawful for me to declare all things nay, when it shall 
 be put upon me as a duty. Thee must suffer me to wait 
 the call." 
 
 After this there was nothing more to be said. The 
 family was on terms of quiet intimacy with the neighbors ; 
 and even Sylvia, in spite of her defiant eyes and worldly 
 ways, became popular among the young men and maid 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 85 
 
 ens. She touched her beloved guitar with a skill which 
 seemed marvellous to the latter ; and when it was known 
 that her refusal to enter the sect arose from her fondness 
 for the prohibited instrument, she found many apologists 
 among them. She was not set upon, and called hard 
 names, as she had anticipated. It is true that her father, 
 when appealed to by the elders, shook his head and said, 
 " It is a cross to us ! " but he had been known to re 
 main in the room while she sang " Full high in Kilbride," 
 and the keen light which arose in his eyes was neither 
 that of sorrow nor anger. 
 
 At the end of their first year of residence the farm 
 presented evidences of much more orderly and intelligent 
 management than at first, although the adjoining neigh 
 bors were of the opinion that the Donnellys had hardly 
 made their living out of it. Friend Henry, nevertheless, 
 was ready with the advance rent, and his bills were prompt 
 ly paid. He was close at a bargain, which was considered 
 rather a merit than otherwise, and almost painfully ex 
 act in observing the strict letter of it, when made. 
 
 As time passed by, and the family became a perma 
 nent part and parcel of the remote community, wearing 
 its peaceful color and breathing its untroubled atmos 
 phere, nothing occurred to disturb the esteem and respect 
 which its members enjoyed. From time to time the post 
 master at the corner delivered to Henry Donnelly a letter 
 from New York, always addressed in the same hand. The 
 first which arrived had an " Esq." added to the name, 
 but this " compliment " (as the Friends termed it) soon 
 
86 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 ceased. Perhaps the official may have vaguely wondered 
 whether there was any connection between the c ccasional 
 absence of Friend Henry not at Yearly-Meeting time 
 and these letters. If he had been a visitor at the farm 
 house he might have noticed variations in the moods of its 
 inmates, which must have arisen from some other cause, 
 than the price of stock or the condition of the crops. 
 Outside of the family circle, however, they were serenely 
 reticent. 
 
 In five or six years, when De Courcy had grown to be 
 a hale, handsome man of twenty-four, and as capable of 
 conducting a farm as any to the township born, certain 
 aberrations from the strict line of discipline began to be 
 rumored. He rode a gallant horse, dressed a little more 
 elegantly than his membership prescribed, and his unusu 
 ally high, straight collar took a knack of falling over. 
 Moreover, he was frequently seen to ride up the Street 
 Road, in the direction of Fagg s Manor, towards those 
 valleys where the brick Presbyterian church displaces the 
 whitewashed Quak ./ meeting-house. Had Henry Don 
 nelly not occupv l o high a seat, and exercised such an 
 acknowledged >*:thority in the sect, he might sooner have 
 received counsel, or proffers of sympathy, as the case 
 might be ; but he heard nothing until the rumors of De 
 Courcy s excursions took a more definite form. 
 
 But one day, Abraham Bradbury, after discussing 
 some Monthly-Meeting matters, suddenly asked : " Is this 
 bue that I hear, Henry, that thy son De Courcy keeps 
 company with one of the Alison girls ? " 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 8? 
 
 * Who says that ? " Henry asked, in a sharp voice. 
 
 "Why, it s the common talk! Surely, thee s heard 
 of it before ? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 Henry set his lips together in a manner which Abra 
 ham understood. Considering that he had fully performed 
 his duty, he said no more. 
 
 That evening, Sylvia, who had been gently thrumming 
 to herself at the window, began singing " Bonnie Peggie 
 Alison." Her father looked at De Courcy, who caught 
 his glance, then lowered his eyes, and turned to leave the 
 room. 
 
 " Stop, De Courcy," said the former ; " I ve heard 
 a piece of news about thee to-day, which I want thee to 
 make clear." 
 
 " Shall I go, father ? " asked Sylvia. 
 
 "No ; thee may stay to give De Courcy his memory. 
 I think he is beginning to need it. I ve learned which 
 way he rides on Seventh-day evenings." 
 
 " Father, I am old enough to choose my way," said 
 De Courcy. 
 
 " But no such ways now, boy ! Has thee clean forgot 
 ten ? This was among the things upon which we agreed, 
 and you all promised to keep watch and guard over your 
 selves. I had my misgivings then, but for five years I ve 
 trusted you, and now, when the time of probation is so 
 nearly over " 
 
 He hesitated, and De Courcy, plucking up courage, 
 spoke again. With a strong effort the young man threvi 
 
88 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 off the yoke of a self-taught restraint, and asserted his 
 true nature. " Has O Neil written ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 "Then, father," he continued, " I prefer the certainty 
 of my present life to the uncertainty of the old. I will 
 not dissolve my connection with the Friends by a shock 
 which might give thee trouble ; but I will slowly work 
 away from them. Notice will be taken of my ways ; there 
 will be family visitations, warnings, and the usual routine 
 of discipline, so that when I marry Margaret Alison, no 
 body will be surprised at my being read out of meeting. 
 I shall soon be twenty-five, father, and this thing. has gone 
 on about as long as I can bear it. I must decide to be 
 either a man or a milksop." 
 
 The color rose to Henry Donnelly s cheeks, and his 
 eyes flashed, but he showed no signs of anger. He moved 
 to De Courcy s side and laid his hand upon his shoul 
 der. 
 
 " Patience, my boy ! " he said. " It s the old blood, 
 and I might have known it would proclaim itself. Sup 
 pose I were to shut my eyes to thy ridings, and thy 
 merry-makings, and thy worldly company. So far I might 
 go ; but the girl is no mate for thee. If O Neil is alive, 
 we are sure to hear from him soon ; and in three years, 
 at the utmost, if the Lord favors us, the end will come. 
 How far has it gone with thy courting ? Surely, surely, 
 not too far to withdraw, at least under the plea of my pro 
 hibition ? " 
 
 De Courcy blushed, but firmly met his father s eyes 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 85 
 
 " 1 have spoken to her," he replied, " and it is not the 
 custom of our family to break plighted faith." 
 
 " Thou art our cross, not Sylvia. Go thy ways now. 
 I will endeavor to seek for guidance." 
 
 " Sylvia," said the father, when De Courcy had left 
 the room, " what is to be the end of this ? " 
 
 " Unless we hear from O Neil, father, I am afraid it 
 cannot be prevented. De Courcy has been changing for 
 a year past ; I am only surprised that you did not sooner 
 notice it. What I said in jest has become serious truth ; 
 he has already half forgotten. We might have expected, 
 in the beginning, that one of two things would happen : 
 either he would become a plodding Quaker farmer or take 
 to his present courses. Which would be worse, when this 
 life is over, if that time ever comes ? " 
 
 Sylvia sighed, and there was a weariness in her voice 
 which did not escape her father s ear. He walked up and 
 down the room with a troubled air. She sat down, took 
 the guitar upon her lap, and began to sing the verse, com 
 mencing, " Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken," 
 when perhaps opportunely Susan Donnelly entered the 
 room. 
 
 " Eh, lass ! " said Henry, slipping his arm around his 
 wife s waist, " art thou tired yet ? Have I been trying 
 thy patience, as I have that of the children ? Have there 
 been longings kept from me, little rebellions crushed, bat 
 tles fought that I supposed were over ? " 
 
 " Not by me, Henry," was her cheerful answer. " 1 
 have never have been happier than in these quiet ways 
 
90 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 with thee. I ve been thinking, what if something has hap 
 pened, and the letters cease to come ? And it has seem 
 ed to me now that the boys are as good fanners as any, 
 and Alice is such a tidy housekeeper that we could man 
 age very well without help. Only for thy sake, Henry ; 
 I fear it would be a terrible disappointment to thee. Or 
 is thee as accustomed to the high seat as I to my place on 
 the women s side ? " 
 
 " No ! " he answered emphatically. " The talk with 
 De Courcy has set my quiet Quaker blood in motion. The 
 boy is more than half right ; I am sure Sylvia thinks so 
 too. What could I expect ? He has no birthright, and 
 didn t begin his task, as I did, after the bravery of youth 
 was over. It took six generations to establish the seren 
 ity and content of our brethren here, and the dress we 
 wear don t give us the nature. De Courcy is tired of the 
 masquerade, and Sylvia is tired of seeing it. Thou, my 
 little Susan, who wert so timid at first, puttest us all to 
 shame now ! " 
 
 " I think I was meant for it, Alice, and Henry, and 
 I," said she. 
 
 No outward change in Henry Donnelly s demeanor be 
 trayed this or any other disturbance at home. There 
 were repeated consultations between the father and son, 
 but they led to no satisfactory conclusion. De Courcy 
 was sincerely attached to the pretty Presbyterian maiden, 
 and found livelier society in her brothers and cousins than 
 among the grave, awkward Quaker youths of London- 
 grove. With the occasional freedom from rej^ (i> he 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. QI 
 
 awoke in him a desire for independence a thirst for the 
 suppressed license of youth. His new acquaintances 
 were accustomed to a rigid domestic regime, but of a dif 
 ferent character, and they met on a common ground of re 
 bellion. Their aberrations, it is true, were not of a very 
 formi dable character, and need not have been guarded but 
 for the severe conventionalities of both sects. An occa 
 sional fox-chase, horse-race, or a " stag party " at some 
 outlying tavern, formed the sum of their dissipation ; they 
 sang, danced reels, and sometimes ran into little excesses 
 through the stimulating sense of the trespass they were 
 committing. 
 
 By and by reports of certain of these performances 
 were brought to the notice of the Londongrove Friends, 
 and, with the consent of Henry Donnelly himself, De Cour 
 cy received a visit of warning and remonstrance. He had 
 foreseen the probability of such a visit and was prepared. 
 He denied none of the charges brought against him, and 
 accepted the grave counsel offered, simply stating that 
 his nature was not yet purified and chastened ; he was 
 aware he was not walking in the Light ; he believed it to 
 be a troubled season through which he must needs pass 
 His frankness, as he was shrewd enough to guess, was a 
 scource of perplexity to the elders ; it prevented them 
 from excommunicating him without further probation, 
 while it left him free to indulge in further recreations. 
 
 Some months passed away, and the absence from 
 which Henry Donnelly always returned with a good sup 
 ply of ready money did not take place. The knowledge of 
 
92 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 farming which his sons had acquired now came into play 
 It was necessary to exercise both skill and thrift in ordei 
 to keep up the liberal footing upon which the family had 
 lived ; for each member of it was too proud to allow the 
 community to suspect the change in their circumstances. 
 De Courcy, retained more than ever at home, and bound 
 to steady labor, was man enough to subdue his impatient 
 spirit for the time ; but he secretly determined that with 
 the first change for the better he would follow the fate he 
 had chosen for himself. 
 
 Late in the fall came the opportunity for which he had 
 longed. One evening he brought home a letter, in the 
 well-known handwriting. His father opened and read it 
 in silence. 
 
 " Well, father ? " he said. 
 
 " A former letter was lost, it seems. This should have 
 come in the spring ; it is only the missing sum." 
 
 " Does O Neil fix any time ? " 
 
 " No ; but he hopes to make a better report next year." 
 
 " Then, father," said De Courcy, " it is useless for me 
 to wait longer ; I am satisfied as it is. I should not have 
 given up Margaret in any case ; but now, since thee can 
 live with Henry s help, I shall claim her." 
 
 " Must it be, De Courcy ? " 
 
 "It must/ 
 
 But it was not to be. A day or two afterwards the 
 young man, on his mettled horse, set off up the Street 
 Road, feeling at last that the fortune and the freedom of 
 his life were approaching He had become, in habits and 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 93 
 
 in feelings, one of the people, and the relinquishment of 
 the hope in which his father still indulged brought him a 
 firmer courage, a more settled content. His sweetheart s 
 f amily was in good circumstances ; but, had she been poor, 
 he felt confident of his power to make and secure for her 
 a farmer s home. To the past whatever it might have 
 been he said farewell, and went carolling some cheerful 
 ditty, to look upon the face of his future. 
 
 That night a country wagon slowly drove up to Henry 
 Donnelly s door. The three men who accompanied it 
 hesitated before they knocked, and, when the door was 
 opened, looked at each other with pale, sad faces, before 
 either spoke. No cries followed the few words that were 
 said, but silently, swiftly, a room was made ready, while 
 the men lifted from the straw and carried up stairs an un 
 conscious figure, the arms of which hung down with a hor 
 rible significance as they moved. He was not dead, for 
 the heart beat feebly and slowly ; but all efforts to restore 
 his consciousness were in vain. There was concussion 
 of the brain the physician said. He had been thrown 
 from his horse, probably alighting upon his head, as there 
 were neither fractures nor external wounds. All that 
 night and next day the tenderest, the most unwearied care 
 was exerted to call back the flickering gleam of life. The 
 shock had been too great ; his deadly torpor deepened 
 into death. 
 
 In their time of trial and sorrow the family received 
 the fullest sympathy, the kindliest help, from the whole 
 neighborhood. They had never before so fully apprecia 
 
94 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 ted the fraternal character of the society whereof they 
 were members. The plain, plodding people living on the 
 adjoining farms became virtually their relatives and fellow 
 mourners. All the external offices demanded by the sad 
 occasion were performed for them, and other eyes than 
 their own shed tears of honest grief over De Courcy s cof 
 fin. All came to the funeral, and even Simon Pennock, 
 in the plain yet touching words which he spoke beside the 
 grave, forgot the young man s wandering from the Light, 
 in the recollection of his frank, generous, truthful nature. 
 
 If the Donnellys had sometimes found the practical 
 equality of life in Londongrove a little repellent they 
 were now gratefully moved by the delicate and refined 
 ways in which the sympathy of the people sought to ex 
 press itself. The better qualities of human nature always 
 develop a temporary good-breeding. Wherever any of the 
 family went, they saw the reflection of their own sorrow ; 
 and a new spirit informed to their eyes the quiet pastoral 
 landscapes. 
 
 In their life at home there was little change. Abra 
 ham Bradbury had insisted on sending his favorite grand 
 son, Joel, a youth of twenty-two, to take De Courcy s 
 place for a few months. He was a shy, quiet creature, with 
 large brown eyes like a fawn s, and young Henry Donnelly 
 and he became friends at once. It was believed that 
 he would inherit the farm at his grandfather s death \ but 
 he was as subservient to Friend Donnelly s wishes in re 
 gard to the farming operations as if the latter held the fee 
 of the property. His coming did not fill the terrible gap 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 95 
 
 which De Courcy s death had made, but seemed to make 
 it less constantly and painfully evident. 
 
 Susan Donnelly soon remarked a change, which she 
 could neither clearly define nor explain to herself, both in 
 her husband and in their daughter Sylvia. The former, 
 although in public he preserved the same grave, stately 
 face, its lines, perhaps, a little more deeply marked, 
 seemed to be devoured by an internal unrest. His dreams 
 were of the old times : words and names long unused 
 came from his lips as he slept by her side. Although he 
 bore his grief with more strength than she had hoped, he 
 grew nervous and excitable, sometimes unreasonably pet 
 ulant, sometimes gay to a pitch which impressed her with 
 pain. When the spring came around, and the mysterious 
 correspondence again failed, as in the previous year, his 
 uneasiness increased. He took his place on the high seat 
 on First-days, as usual, but spoke no more. 
 
 Sylvia, on the other hand, seemed to have wholly lost 
 her proud, impatient character. She went to meeting much 
 more frequently than formerly, busied herself more actively 
 about household matters, and ceased to speak of the un 
 certain contingency which had been so constantly present 
 in her thoughts. In fact, she and her father had changed 
 places. She was now the one who preached patience, who 
 held before them all the bright side of their lot, who 
 brought Margaret Alison to the house and justified her 
 dead brother s heart to his father s, and who repeated tu 
 the latter, in his restless moods, " De Courcy foresaw the 
 truth, and we must all in the end decide as he did." 
 
9^ TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Can thee do it, Sylvia ? " her father would ask. 
 
 " I believe I have done it already," she said. " If it 
 seems difficult, pray consider how much later I begin n)) 
 work. I have had all your memories in charge, and now I 
 must not only forget for myself, but for you as well." 
 
 Indeed, as the spring and summer months came and 
 went, Sylvia evidently grew stronger in her determination. 
 The fret of her idle force was allayed, and her content in 
 creased as she saw and performed the possible duties of 
 her life. Perhaps her father might have caught something 
 of her spirit, but for his anxiety in regard to the suspended 
 correspondence. He wearied himself in guesses, which 
 all ended in the simple fact that, to escape embarrass 
 ment, the rent must again be saved from the earnings of 
 the farm. 
 
 The harvests that year were bountiful ; wheat, barley 9 
 and oats stood thick and heavy in the fields. No one 
 showed more careful thrift or more cheerful industry than 
 young Joel Bradbury, and the family felt that much of the 
 fortune of their harvest was owing to him. 
 
 On the first day after the crops had been securely 
 housed, all went to meeting, except Sylvia. In the walled 
 graveyard the sod was already green over De Courcy s 
 unmarked mound, but Alice had planted a little rose-tree 
 at the head, and she and her mother always visited the 
 spot before taking their seats on the women s side. The 
 meeting-house was very full that day, as the busy Season 
 of the summer was over, and the horses of those who .ived 
 at a distance had no longer such need of rest 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 97 
 
 It was a sultry forenoon, and the windows and doors 
 of the building were open. The humming of insects was 
 heard in the silence, and broken lights and shadows of the 
 poplar-leaves were sprinkled upon the steps and sills. 
 Outs .de there were glimpses of quiet groves and orchards, 
 and blue fragments of sky, no more semblance of life in 
 the external landscape than there was in the silent meet 
 ing within. Some quarter of an hour before the shaking 
 of hands took place, the hoofs of a horse were heard in 
 the meeting-house yard the noise of a smart trot on the 
 turf, suddenly arrested. 
 
 The boys pricked up their ears at this unusual sound, 
 and stole glances at each other when they imagined them 
 selves unseen by the awful faces in the gallery. Presently 
 those nearest the door saw a broader shadow fall over 
 those flickering upon the stone. A red face appeared for 
 a moment, and was then drawn back out of sight. The 
 shadow advanced and receded, in a state of peculiar rest 
 lessness. Sometimes the end of a riding-whip was visi 
 ble, sometimes the corner of a coarse gray coat. The boys 
 who noticed these apparitions were burning with impa 
 tience, but they dared not leave their seats until Abraham 
 Bradbury had reached his hand to Henry Donnelly. 
 
 Then they rushed out. The mysterious personage was 
 still beside the door, leaning against the wall. He was a 
 short, thick-set man of fifty, with red hair, round gray 
 eyes, a broad pug nose, and projecting mouth. He wore 
 a heavy gray coat, despite the heat, and a waistcoat with 
 many brass buttons ; also corduroy breeches and riding 
 5 
 
9$ TALES OF HOME. 
 
 boots. When they appeared, he started forward with open 
 mouth and eyes, and stared wildly in their faces. They 
 gathered around the poplar-trunks, and waited with some 
 uneasiness to see what would follow. 
 
 Slowly and gravely, with the half-broken ban of silence 
 still hanging over them, the people issued from the house. 
 The strange man stood, leaning forward, and seemed to 
 devour each, in turn, with his eager eyes. After the young 
 men came the fathers of families, and lastly the old men 
 from the gallery seats. Last of these came Henry Don 
 nelly. In the meantime, all had seen and wondered at 
 the waiting figure ; its attitude was too intense and self- 
 forgetting to be misinterpreted. The greetings and re 
 marks were suspended until the people had seen for whom 
 the man waited, and why. 
 
 Henry Donnelly had no sooner set his foot upon the 
 door-step than, with something between a shout and a 
 howl, the stranger darted forward, seized his hand, and 
 fell upon one knee, crying : " O my lord ! my lord ! Glory 
 be to God that I ve found ye at last ! " 
 
 If these words burst like a bomb on the ears of the 
 people, what was their consternation when Henry Don 
 nelly exclaimed, " The Divel ! Jack O Neil, can that be 
 you ? " 
 
 " It s me, meself, my lord ! When we heard the letters 
 went wrong last year, I said * I ll trust no such good news 
 to their blasted mail-posts: I ll go meself and carry it to 
 his lordship, if it is t other side o the say. Him and 
 my lady and all the chi Idren went, and sure I can go too 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 99 
 
 And as I was the one that went with you from Dunleigh 
 Castle, I ll go back with you to that same, for it stands 
 awaitin , and blessed be the day that sees you back in 
 your ould place ! " 
 
 " All clear, Jack ? All mine again ? " 
 
 " You may believe it, my lord ! And money in the 
 chest beside. But where s my lady, bless her sweet face 1 
 Among yon women, belike, and you ll help me to find her, 
 for it s herself must have the news next, and then the 
 young master " 
 
 With that word Henry Donnelly awoke to a sense of 
 time and place. He found himself within a ring of star 
 ing, wondering, scandalized eyes. He met them boldly, 
 with a proud, though rather grim smile, took hold of 
 O NeiFs arm and led him towards the women s end of the 
 house, where the sight of Susan in her scoop bonnet so 
 moved the servant s heart that he melted into tears. Both 
 husband and wife were eager to get home and hear 
 O Neil s news in private ; so they set out at once in their 
 plain carriage, followed by the latter on horseback. As for 
 the Friends, they went home in a state of bewilderment. 
 
 Alice Donnelly, with her brother Henry and Joel 
 Bradbury, returned on foot. The two former remembered 
 O Neil, and, although they had not witnessed his first in 
 terview with their father, they knew enough of the family 
 history to surmise his errand. Joel was silent and troub 
 led. 
 
 "Alice, I hope it doesn t mean that we are going back, 
 don t you ? " said Henry. 
 
100 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, and said no more. 
 
 They took a foot-path across the fields, and reached 
 the farm-house at the same time with the first party. As 
 they opened the door Sylvia descended the staircase dress 
 ed in a rich shimmering brocade, with a necklace of ame 
 thysts around her throat. To their eyes, so long accus 
 tomed to the absence of positive color, she was completely 
 dazzling. There was a new color on her cheeks, and 
 her eyes seemed larger and brighter. She made a stately 
 courtesy, and held open the parlor door. 
 
 "Welcome, Lord Henry Dunleigh, of Dunleigh Cas 
 tle ! " she cried ; " welcome, Lady Dunleigh ! " 
 
 Her father kissed her on the forehead. " Now give us 
 back our memories, Sylvia ! " he said, exultingly. 
 
 Susan Donnelly sank into a chair, overcome by the 
 mixed emotions of the moment. 
 
 " Come in, my faithful Jack ! Unpack thy portman 
 teau of news, for I see thou art bursting to show it; let 
 us have every thing from the beginning. Wife, it s a little 
 too much for thee, coming so unexpectedly. Set out the 
 wine, Alice ! " 
 
 The decanter was placed upon the table. O Neil fill 
 ed a tumbler to the brim, lifted it high, made two or three 
 hoarse efforts to speak, and then walked away to the win 
 dow, where he drank in silence. This little incident touch 
 ed the family more than the announcement of their good 
 fortune. Henry Donnelly s feverish exultation subsided : 
 he sat down with a grave, thoughtful face, while his wife 
 wept quietly beside him. Sylvia stood waiting with an 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. IO1 
 
 abstracted air; Alice removed her mother s bonnet and 
 shawl ; and Henry and Joel, seated together at the farthei 
 end of the room, looked on in silent anticipation. 
 
 O NeiPs story was long, and frequently interrupted. 
 He had been Lord Dunleigh s steward in better days, as 
 his father had been to the old lord, and was bound to the 
 family by the closest ties of interest and affection. When 
 the estates became so encumbered that either an immedi 
 ate change or a catastrophe was inevitable, he had been 
 taken into his master s confidence concerning the plan 
 which had first been proposed in jest, and afterwards 
 adopted in earnest. The family must leave Dunleigh Cas 
 tle for a period of probably eight or ten years, and seek 
 some part of the world where their expenses could be re 
 duced to the lowest possible figure. In Germany or Italy 
 there would be the annoyance of a foreign race and lan 
 guage, of meeting of tourists belonging to the circle in 
 which they had moved, a dangerous idleness for their sons, 
 and embarrassing restrictions for their daughters. On 
 the other hand, the suggestion to emigrate to America 
 and become Quakers during their exile offered more ad 
 vantages the more they considered it. It was original in 
 character ; it offered them economy, seclusion, entire lib 
 erty of action inside the limits of the sect, the best moral 
 atmosphere for their children, and an occupation which 
 would not deteriorate what was best in their blood and 
 breeding. 
 
 How Lord Dunleigh obtained admission into the sect 
 as plain Henry Donnelly is a matter of conjecture with 
 
102 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the Londongrove Friends. The deception which had 
 been practised upon them although it was perhaps less 
 complete than they imagined left a soreness of feeling 
 behind it. The matter was hushed up after the departure 
 of the family, and one might now live for years in the 
 neighborhood without hearing the story. How the shrewd 
 plan was carried out by Lord Dunleigh and his family, 
 we have already learned. O Neil, left on the estate, in 
 the north of Ireland, did his part with equal fidelity. He 
 not only filled up the gaps made by his master s early 
 profuseness, but found means to move the sympathies of 
 a cousin of the latter a rich, eccentric old bachelor, 
 who had long been estranged by a family quarrel. To 
 this cousin he finally confided the character of the exile, 
 and at a lucky time ; for the cousin s will was altered in 
 Lord Dunleigh s favor, and he died before his mood of 
 reconciliation passed away. Now, the estate was not only 
 unencumbered, but there was a handsome surplus in the 
 hands of the Dublin bankers. The family might return 
 whenever they chose, and there would be a festival to wel 
 come them, O Neil said, such as Dunleigh Castle had 
 never known since its foundations were laid. 
 
 " Let us go at once 1 " said Sylvia, when he had con 
 cluded his tale. "No more masquerading, I never 
 knew until to-day how much I have hated it ! I will not 
 say that your plan was not a sensible one, father ; but I 
 wish it might have been carried out with more honor to 
 ourselves. Since De Courcy s death I have begun to ap 
 preciate our neighbors : I was resigned to become one of 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 103 
 
 these people had our luck gone the other way. Will 
 they give us any credit for goodness and truth, I wonder ? 
 Yes, in mother s case, and Alice s ; and I believe both 01 
 them would give up Dunleigh Castle for this little farm." 
 
 "Then," her father exclaimed, "it is time that we 
 should return, and without delay. But thee wrongs us 
 somewhat, Sylvia : it has not all been masquerading. We 
 have become the servants, rather than the masters, of our 
 own parts, and shall live a painful and divided life until 
 we get back- in our old place. I fear me it will always be 
 divided for thee, wife, and Alice and Henry. If I am 
 subdued by the element which I only meant to asssume, 
 how much more deeply must it have wrought in your na 
 tures! Yes, Sylvia is right, we must get away at once. 
 To-morrow we must leave Londongrove forever ! " 
 
 He had scarcely spoken, when a new surprise fell 
 upon the family. Joel Bradbury arose and walked for 
 ward, as if thrust by an emotion so powerful that it trans 
 formed his whole being. He seemed to forget every 
 thing but Alice Donnelly s presence. His soft brown 
 eyes were fixed on her face with an expression of unutter 
 able tenderness and longing. He caught her by the 
 hands. " Alice, O, Alice !" burst from his lips; "you 
 are not going to leave me ? " 
 
 The flush in the girl s sweet face faded into a deadly 
 paleness. A moan came from her lips ; her head drop 
 ped, and she would have fallen, swooning, from the chair 
 had not Joel knelt at her feet and caught her upon his 
 breast 
 
104 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 For a moment there was silence in the room. 
 
 Presently, Sylvia, all her haughtiness gone, knelt be 
 side the young man, and took her sister from his arms, 
 "Joel, my poor, dear friend," she said, "I am sorry thai 
 the last, worst mischief we have done must fall upon you. 
 
 Joel covered his face with his hands, and convulsively 
 uttered the words, " Must- she go ? " 
 
 Then Henry Donnelly or, rather, Lord Dunleigh, as 
 we must now call him took the young man s hand. He 
 was profoundly moved ; his strong voice trembled, and 
 his words came slowly. " I will not appeal to thy heart, 
 Joel," he said, "for it would not hear me now. But thou 
 hast heard all our story, and knowest that we must leave 
 these parts, never to return. We belong to another station 
 and another mode of life than yours, and it must come to 
 us as a good fortune that our time of probation is at an end. 
 Bethink thee, could we leave our darling Alice behind us, 
 parted as if by the grave ? Nay, could we rob her of the 
 l*fe to which she is born of her share in our lives ? On 
 Jhe other hand, could we take thee with us into relations 
 where thee would always be a stranger, and in which a 
 nature like thine has no place ? This is a case where 
 duty speaks clearly, though so hard, so very hard, to 
 follow." 
 
 He spoke tenderly, but inflexibly, and Joel felt that 
 his fate was pronounced. When Alice had somewhat 
 revived, and was taken to another room, he stumbled 
 blindly out of the house, made his way to the barn, and 
 there flung himtelf upon the harvest-sheaves which, three 
 
THE STRANGE FRIEND. 1 05 
 
 days before, he had bound with such a timid, delicious 
 nope working in his arm. 
 
 The day which brought such great fortune had thus a 
 sad and troubled termination. It was proposed that the 
 family should start for Philadelphia on the morrow, leav 
 ing O*Neil to pack up and remove such furniture as they 
 wished to retain ; but Susan, Lady Dunleigh, could not 
 forsake the neighborhood without a parting visit to the 
 good friends who had mourned with her over her first 
 born ; and Sylvia was with her in this wish. So two 
 more days elapsed, and then the Dunleighs passed down 
 the Street Road, and the plain farm-house was gone from 
 their eyes forever. Two grieved over the loss of their 
 happy home; one was almost broken-hearted; and the 
 remaining two felt that the trouble of the present clouded 
 all their happiness in the return to rank and fortune. 
 
 They went, and they never came again. An account 
 of the great festival at Dunleigh Castle reached London- 
 grove two years later, through an Irish laborer, who 
 brought to Joel Bradbury a letter of recommendation 
 signed " Dunleigh." Joel kept the man upon his farm, 
 and the two preserved the memory of the family long 
 after the neighborhood had ceased to speak of it. Joel 
 never married ; he still lives in the house where the great 
 sorrow of his life befell. His head is gray, and his face 
 deeply wrinkled ; but when he lifts the shy lids of liis 
 soft brown eyes, I fancy I can see in their tremulous 
 depths the lingering memory of his love for Alice Dun- 
 leigh. 
 
 5* 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 
 
 F there ever was a man crushed out of 
 all courage, all self-reliance, all comfort 
 in life, it was Jacob Flint. Why this 
 should have been, neither he nor any 
 one else could have explained ; but so 
 it was. On the day that he first went 
 to school, his shy, frightened face marked him as fair 
 game for the rougher and stronger boys, and they sub 
 jected him to all those exquisite refinements of torture 
 which boys seem to get by the direct inspiration of the 
 Devil. There was no form of their bullying meanness or 
 the cowardice of their brutal strength which he did not 
 experience. He was born under a fading or falling star, 
 the inheritor of some anxious or unhappy mood of his 
 parents, which gave its fast color to the threads out ol 
 which his innocent being was woven. 
 
 Even the good people of the neighborhood, never ac 
 customed to look below the externals of appearance and 
 manner, saw in his shrinking face and awkward motions 
 only the signs of a cringing, abject soul. " You ll be no 
 
108 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 more of a man than Jake FHnt! " was the reproach wiiich 
 many a farmer addressed to his dilatory boy ; and thus 
 the parents, one and all, came to repeat the sins of the 
 children. 
 
 If, therefore, at school and " before folks," Jacob s 
 position was always uncomfortable and depressing, it was 
 little more cheering at home. His parents, as all the 
 neighbors believed, had been unhappily married, and, 
 though the mother died in his early childhood, his father 
 remained a moody, unsocial man, who rarely left his farm 
 except on the ist of April every year, when he went to 
 the county town for the purpose of paying the interest 
 upon a mortgage. The farm lay in a hollow between two 
 hills, separated from the road by a thick wood, and the 
 chimneys of the lonely old house looked in vain for a 
 neighbor-smoke when they began to grow warm of a 
 morning. 
 
 Beyond the barn and under the northern hill there 
 was a log tenant-house, in which dwelt a negro couple, 
 who, in the course of years had become fixtures on the 
 place and almost partners in it. Harry, the man, was the 
 medium by which Samuel Flint kept up his necessary in 
 tercourse with the world beyond the valley ; he took the 
 horses to the blacksmith, the grain to the mill, the turkeys 
 to market, and through his hands passed all the incomings 
 and outgoings of the farm, except the annual interest on 
 the mortgage. Sally, his wife, took care of the household, 
 which, indeed, was a light and comfortable task, since 
 the table was well supplied for her own sake, and there was 
 
JACOB FLINTS JOURNEY. 109 
 
 no sharp eye to criticise her sweeping, dusting, and bed- 
 making. The place had a forlorn, tumble-down aspect, 
 quite in keeping with its lonely situation ; but perhaps 
 this very circumstance flattered the mood of its silent, 
 melancholy owner and his unhappy son. 
 
 In all the neighborhood there was but one person 
 with whom Jacob felt completely at ease but one who 
 never joined in the general habit of making his name 
 the butt of ridicule or contempt. This was Mrs. Ann 
 Pardon, the hearty, active wife of Farmer Robert Pardon, 
 who lived nearly a mile farther down the brook. Jacob 
 had won her good-will by some neighborly services, some 
 thing so trifling, indeed, that the thought of a favor con 
 ferred never entered his mind. Ann Pardon saw that it 
 did not ; she detected a streak of most unconscious good 
 ness under his uncouth, embarrassed ways, and she deter 
 mined to cultivate it. No little tact was required, how 
 ever, to coax the wild, forlorn creature into so much confi 
 dence as she desired to establish ; but tact is a native qual 
 ity of the heart no less than a social acquirement, and so she 
 did the very thing necessary without thinking much- about it. 
 
 Robert Pardon discovered by and by that Jacob was a 
 steady, faithful hand in the harvest-field at husking-time, 
 or whenever any extra labor was required, and Jacob s 
 father made no objection to his earning a penny in this 
 way ; and so he fell into the habit of spending his Satur 
 day evenings at the Pardon farm-house, at first to talk over 
 matters of work, and finally because it had become a wel 
 come relief from his dreary life at home. 
 
I 10 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Now it happened that on a Saturday in the beginning 
 of haying-time, the village tailor sent home by Harry a 
 new suit of light summer clothes, for which Jacob had 
 been measured a month before. After supper he tried 
 them on, the day s work being over, and Sally s admir 
 ation was so loud and emphatic that he felt himself grow 
 ing red even to the small of his back. 
 
 * Now, don t go for to take em off, Mr. Jake," said 
 she. " I spec you re gwine clown to Pardon s, and so you 
 jist keep em on to show em all how nice you kin look." 
 
 The same thought had already entered Jacob s mind. 
 Poor fellow ! It was the highest form of pleasure of which 
 he had ever allowed himself to conceive. If he had been 
 called upon to pass through the village on first assuming 
 the new clothes, every stitch would have pricked him as 
 if the needle remained in it ; but a quiet walk down the 
 brookside, by the pleasant path through the thickets and 
 over the fragrant meadows, with a consciousness of his 
 own neatness and freshness at every step, and with kind 
 Ann Pardon s commendation at the close, and the flat 
 tering curiosity of the children, the only ones who never 
 made fun of him, all that was a delightful prospect. He 
 could never, never forget himself, as he had seen other 
 young fellows do ; but to remember himself agreeably was 
 certainly the next best thing. 
 
 Jacob was already a well-grown man of twenty-three, 
 and would have made a good enough appearance but for 
 the stoop in his shoulders, and the drooping, uneasy way 
 in which he carried his head. Many a time when he was 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. in 
 
 alone in the fields or woods he had straightened himself 
 and looked courageously at the buts of the oak trees or in 
 the very eyes of the indifferent oxen ; but, when a human 
 face drew near, some spring in his neck seemed to snap, 
 some buckle around his shoulders to be drawn three holes 
 tighter, and he found himself in the old posture. The 
 ever-present thought of this weakness was the only drop 
 of bitterness in his cup, as he followed the lonely path 
 through the thickets. 
 
 Some spirit in the sweet, delicious freshness of the 
 air, some voice in the mellow babble of the stream, leap 
 ing in and out of sight between the alders, some smile of 
 light, lingering on the rising corn-fields beyond the mead 
 ow and the melting purple of a distant hill, reached to 
 the seclusion of his heart. He was soothed and cheered ; 
 his head lifted itself in the presentiment of a future less 
 lonely than the past, and the everlasting trouble vanished 
 from his eyes. 
 
 Suddenly, at a turn of the path, two mowers from the 
 meadow, with their scythes upon their shoulders, came 
 upon him. He had not heard their feet on the deep turf. 
 His chest relaxed, and his head began to sink ; then, with 
 the most desperate effort in his life, he lifted it again, and, 
 darting a rapid side glance at the men, hastened by. 
 They could not understand the mixed defiance and sup 
 plication of his face ; to them he only looked " queer." 
 
 "Been committin a murder, have you? " asked one 
 of them, grinning. 
 
 " Startin off on his journey, I guess," said the other 
 
112 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 The next instant they were gone, and Jacob, with set 
 teeth and clinched hands, smothered something that 
 would have been a howl if he had given it voice. Sharp 
 lines of pain were marked on his face, and, for the first 
 time, the idea of resistance took fierce and bitter posses 
 sion of his heart. But the mood was too unusual to last ; 
 presently he shook his head, and walked on towards Par 
 don s farm-house. 
 
 Ann wore a smart gingham dress, and her first excla 
 mation was : " Why, Jake ! how nice you look. And so 
 you know all about it, too ? " 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 " I see you don t," said she. " I was too fast ; but it 
 makes no difference. I know you are willing to lend me 
 a helping hand." 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," Jacob answered. 
 
 " And not mind a little company ? " 
 
 Jacob s face suddenly clouded ; but he said, though 
 with an effort : " No not much if I can be of any 
 help." 
 
 " It s rather a joke, after all," Ann Pardon continued, 
 speaking rapidly. ; " they meant a surprise, a few of the 
 young people ; but- sister Becky found a way to send me 
 word, or I might have been caught like Meribah Johnson 
 last week, in the middle of my work ; eight or ten, she 
 said, but more may drop in : and it s moonlight and warm, 
 so they ll be mostly under the trees ; and Robert won t 
 be home till late, and I do want help in carrying chairs, 
 and getting up some ice, and handing around; and, 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 113 
 
 though I know you don t care for merry-makings, you can 
 help me out, you see " 
 
 Here she paused. Jacob looked perplexed, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Becky will help what she can, and while I m in the 
 kitchen she ll have an eye to things outside," she said. 
 
 Jacob s head was down again, and, moreover, turned 
 on one side, but his ear. betrayed the mounting blood. 
 Finally he answered, in a quick, husky voice : " Well, I ll 
 do what I can. What s first ? " 
 
 Thereupon he began to carry some benches from 
 the veranda to a grassy bank beside the sycamore-tree. 
 Ann Pardon wisely said no more of the coming surprise- 
 party, but kept him so employed that, as the visitors ar 
 rived by twos and threes, the merriment was in full play 
 almost before he was aware of it. Moreover, the night 
 was a protecting presence : the moonlight poured splen 
 didly upon the open turf beyond the sycamore, but every 
 lilac-bush or trellis of woodbine made a nook of shade, 
 wherein he could pause a moment and take courage for 
 his duties. Becky Morton, Ann Pardon s youngest sis 
 ter, frightened him a little every time she came to con 
 sult about the arrangement of seats or the distribution of 
 refreshments ; but it was a delightful, fascinating fear, 
 such as he had never felt before in his life. He knew 
 Becky, but he had never seen her in white and pink, with 
 floating tresses, until now. In fact, he had hardly looked 
 at her fairh , but now, as she glided into the moonlight 
 and he paused in the shadow, his eyes took note of hei 
 
1 14 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 exceeding beauty. Some sweet, confusing influence, he 
 knew not what, passed into his blood. 
 
 The young men had brought a fiddler from the vil 
 lage, and it was not long before most of the company were 
 treading the measures of reels or cotillons on the grass. 
 How merry and happy they all were ! How freely and 
 unembarrassedly they moved and talked ! By and by all 
 became involved in the dance, and Jacob, left alone and 
 unnoticed, drew nearer and nearer to the gay and beauti 
 ful life from which he was expelled. 
 
 With a long-drawn scream of the fiddle the dance 
 came to an end, and the dancers, laughing, chattering, 
 panting, and fanning themselves, broke into groups and 
 scattered over the enclosure before the house. Jacob was 
 surrounded before he could escape. Becky, with two 
 lively girls in her wake, came up to him and said : " Oh 
 Mr. Flint, why don t you dance ? " 
 
 If lie had stopped to consider, he would no doubt 
 have replied very differently. But a hundred questions, 
 stirred by what he had seen, were clamoring for light, and 
 they threw the desperate impulse to his lips. 
 
 " If I could dance, would you dance with me ? " 
 
 The two lively girls heard the words, and ookt^d at 
 Becky with roguish faces. 
 
 " Oh yes, take him for your next partner ! " cried one. 
 
 "I will/ said Becky, "after he comes back from his 
 journey. 
 
 Then all three laughed. Jacob leaned against the 
 tree, his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. IIS 
 
 " Is it a bargain ? " asked one of the girls. 
 
 " No," said he, and walked rapidly away. 
 
 He went to the house, and, finding that Robert had 
 arrived, took his hat, and left by the rear door. There 
 was a grassy alley between the orchard and garden, from 
 which it was divided by a high hawthorn hedge. He had 
 scarcely taken three paces on his way to the meadow, 
 when the sound of the voice he had last heard, on the 
 other side of the hedge, arrested his feet. 
 
 " Becky, I think you rather hurt Jake Flint," said the 
 girl. 
 
 " Hardly," answered Becky ; "he s used to that." 
 
 " Not if he likes you ; and you might go further and 
 fare worse." 
 
 u Well, I must say ! " Becky exclaimed, with a laugh ; 
 " you d like to see me stuck in that hollow, out of your 
 way ! " 
 
 " It s a good farm, I ve heard," said the other. 
 
 " Yes, and covered with as much as it ll bear ! " 
 
 Here the girls were called away to the dance. Jacob 
 slowly walked up the dewy meadow, the sounds of fid 
 dling, singing, and laughter growing fainter behind him. 
 
 " My journey ! " he repeated to himself, " my jour 
 ney ! why shouldn t I start on it now ? Start off, and 
 never come back ? " 
 
 It was a very little thing, after all, which annoyed him, 
 but the mention of it always touched a sore nerve of his 
 nature. A dozen years before, when a boy at school, he 
 had made a temporary friendship with another boy of hia 
 
Il6 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 age, and had one day said to the latter, in the warmth of 
 his first generous confidence : " When I am a little older, 
 I shall make a great journey, and come back rich, and buv 
 Whitney s place ! " 
 
 Now, Whitney s place, with its stately old brick man 
 sion, its avenue of silver firs, and its two hundred acres of 
 clean, warm-lying land, was the finest, the most aristocratic 
 property in all the neighborhood, and the boy-friend could 
 not resist the temptation of repeating Jacob s grand design, 
 for the endless amusement of the school. The betrayal 
 hurt Jacob more keenly than the ridicule. It left a wound 
 that never ceased to rankle ; yet, with the inconceivable 
 perversity of unthinking natures, precisely this joke (as 
 the people supposed it to be) had been perpetuated, until 
 "Jake Flint s Journey " was a synonyme for any absurd 
 or extravagant expectation. Perhaps no one imagined 
 how much pain he was keeping alive ; for almost any other 
 man than Jacob would have joined in the laugh against 
 himself and thus good-naturedly buried the joke in time. 
 " He s used to that," the people said, like Becky Morton, 
 and they really supposed there was nothing unkind in the 
 remark ! 
 
 After Jacob had passed the thickets and entered the 
 lonely hollow in which his father s house lay, his pace be 
 came slower and slower. He looked at the shabby old 
 building, just touched by the moonlight behind the sway 
 ing shadows of the weeping-willow, stopped, looked again, 
 and finally seated himself on a stump beside the path. 
 
 " If I knew what to do ! " he said to himself, rocking 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 117 
 
 backwards and forwards, with his hands clasped over his 
 knees, " if I knew what to do ! " 
 
 The spiritual tension of the evening reached its cli 
 max : he could bear no more. With a strong bodily shud 
 der his tears burst forth, and the passion of his weeping 
 filled him from head to foot. How long he wept he knew 
 not ; it seemed as if the hot fountains would never run dry. 
 Suddenly and startlingly a hand fell upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Boy, what does this mean ? " 
 
 It was his father who stood before him. 
 
 Jacob looked up like some shy animal brought to bay, 
 his eyes full of a feeling mixed of fierceness and terror ; 
 but he said nothing. 
 
 His father seated himself on one of the roots of the 
 old stump, laid one hand upon Jacob s knee, and said 
 with an unusual gentleness of manner, " I d like to know 
 what it is that troubles you so much." 
 
 After a pause, Jacob suddenly burst forth with : " Is 
 there any reason why I should tell you ? Do you care any 
 more for me than the rest of em ? " 
 
 " I didn t know as you wanted me to care for you par 
 ticularly," said the father, almost deprecatingly. " I al 
 ways thought you had friends of your own age." 
 
 " Friends ? Devils ! " exclaimed Jacob. " Oh, what 
 have I done what is there so dreadful about me that I 
 should always be laughed at, and despised, and trampled 
 upon ? You are a great deal older than I am, father : 
 what do you see in me ? Tell me what it is, and how to 
 get over it 1 " 
 
Il8 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 The eyes of the two men met. Jacob saw his father s 
 face grow pale in the moonlight, while he pressed his hand 
 involuntarily upon his heart, as if struggling with some 
 physical pain. At last he spoke, but his words were 
 s 4 range and incoherent. 
 
 " I couldn t sleep," he said; " I got up again and came 
 out o doors. The white ox had broken down the fence 
 at the corner, and would soon have been in the cornfield. 
 I thought it was that, maybe, but still your your mother 
 would come into my head. I was coming down the edge 
 of the wood when I saw you, and I don t know why it was 
 that you seemed so different, all at once " 
 
 Here he paused, and was silent for a minute. Then 
 he said, in a grave, commanding tone : " Just let me know 
 the whole story. I have that much right yet." 
 
 Jacob related the history of the evening, somewhat 
 awkwardly and confusedly, it is true ; but his father s brief, 
 pointed questions kept him to the narrative, and forced 
 him to explain the full significance of the expressions he 
 repeated. At the mention of " Whitney s place," a singu- 
 \ar expression of malice touched the old man s face. 
 
 " Do you love Becky Morton ? " he asked bluntly, when 
 all had been told. 
 
 " I don t know," Jacob stammered ; " I think not ; be 
 cause when I seem to like her most, I feel afraid of her. 
 
 "It s lucky that you re not sure of it ! " exclaimed the 
 old man with energy ; " because you should never have her." 
 
 " No," said Jacob, with a mournful acquiescence, " I 
 can never have her, or any other one." 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 119 
 
 " But you shall and will ! when I help you. It s true 
 I ve not seemed to care much about you, and I suppose 
 you re free to think as you like ; but this I say : I ll not 
 stand by and see you spit upon ! Covered with as much 
 as it ll bear ! That s a piece o luck anyhow If we re 
 poor, your wife must take your poverty with you, or she 
 don t come into my doors. But first of all you must make 
 your journey ! " 
 
 " My journey ! " repeated Jacob. 
 
 " Weren t you thinking of it this night, before you took 
 your seat on that stump ? A little more, and you d have 
 gone clean off, I reckon." 
 
 Jacob was silent, and hung his head. 
 
 " Never mind ! I ve no right to think hard of it. In 
 a week we ll have finished our haying, and then it s a fort 
 night to wheat ; but, for that matter, Harry and I can 
 manage the wheat by ourselves. You may take a month, 
 two months, if any thing comes of it. Under a month I 
 don t mean that you shall come back. I ll give you twenty 
 dollars for a start ; if you want more you must earn it 
 on the road, any way you please. And, mark you, Jacob ! 
 since you are poor, don t let anybody suppose you are 
 rich. For my part, I shall not expect you to buy Whit 
 ney s place ; all I ask is that you ll tell me, fair and 
 square, just what things and what people you ve got ac 
 quainted with. Get to bed now the matter s settled ; 1 
 will have it so." 
 
 They rose and walked across the meadow to the house. 
 Jacob had quite forgotten the events of the evening in the 
 
12O TALES OF HOME. 
 
 new prospect suddenly opened to him, which filled him with 
 a wonderful confusion of fear and desire. His father said 
 nothing more. They entered the lonely house together at 
 midnight, and went to their beds; but Jacob slept very 
 little. 
 
 Six days afterwards he left home, on a sparkling June 
 morning, with a small bundle tied in a yellow silk hand 
 kerchief under his arm. His father had furnished him 
 with the promised money, but had positively refused to 
 tell him what road he should take, or what plan of action 
 he should adopt. The only stipulation was that his ab 
 sence from home should not be less than a month. 
 
 After he had passed the wood and reached the high 
 way which followed the course of the brook, he paused to 
 consider which course to take. Southward the road led 
 past Pardon s, and he longed to see his only friends once 
 more before encountering untried hazards ; but the vil 
 lage was beyond, and he had no courage to walk through 
 its one long street with a bundle, denoting a journey, un 
 der his arm. Northward he would have to pass the mill 
 and blacksmith s shop at the cross-roads. Then he re 
 membered that he might easily wade the stream at a point 
 where it was shallow, and keep in the shelter of the woods 
 on the opposite hill until he struck the road farther on, 
 and in that direction two or three miles would take him 
 into a neighborhood where he was not known. 
 
 Once in the woods, an exquisite sense of fieedom 
 came upon him. There was nothing mocking in the soft, 
 graceful stir of the expanded foliage, in the twittering of 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 121 
 
 Che unfrightened birds, or the scampering of the squirrels, 
 over the rustling carpet of dead leaves. He lay down 
 upon the moss under a spreading beech-tree and tried to 
 think j but the thoughts would not come. He could not 
 even clearly recall the keen troubles and mortifications 
 he had endured : all things were so peaceful and beauti 
 ful that a portion of their peace and beauty fell upon men 
 and invested them with a more kindly character. 
 
 Towards noon Jacob found himself beyond the limited 
 geography of his life. The first man he encountered was 
 a stranger, who greeted him with a hearty and respectful 
 " How do you do, sir ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," thought Jacob, " I am not so very differ 
 ent from other people, if I only thought so myself." 
 
 At noon, he stopped at a farm-house by the roadside 
 to get a drink of water. A pleasant woman, who came 
 from the door at that moment with a pitcher, allowed him 
 to lower the bucket and haul it up dripping with precious 
 coolness. She looked upon him with good-will, for he 
 had allowed her to see his eyes, and something in their 
 honest, appealing expression went to her heart. 
 
 " We re going to have dinner in five minutes," said 
 she ; " won t you stay and have something ? " 
 
 Jacob stayed and brake bread with the plain, hospit 
 able family. Their kindly attention to him during the 
 meal gave him the lacking nerve ; for a moment he re 
 solved to offer his services to the farmer, but he presently 
 saw that they were not really needed, and, besides, the 
 place was still too near home. 
 6 
 
122 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Towards night he reached an old country tavern, lord 
 ing it over an incipient village of six houses. The land 
 lord and hostler were inspecting a drooping-looking horse 
 in front of the stables. Now, if there was any th ng 
 which Jacob understood, to the extent of his limited ex 
 perience, it was horse nature. He drew near, listened to 
 the views of the two men, examined the animal with his 
 eyes, and was ready to answer, " Yes, I guess so," when 
 the landlord said, " Perhaps, sir, you can tell what is the 
 matter with him." 
 
 His prompt detection of the ailment, and prescription 
 of a remedy which in an hour showed its good effects, in 
 stalled him in the landlord s best graces. The latter 
 said, " Well, it shall cost you nothing to-night," as he led 
 the way to the supper-room. When Jacob went to bed 
 he was surprised on reflecting that he had not only been 
 talking for a full hour in the bar-room, but had been 
 looking people in the face. 
 
 Resisting an offer of good wages if he would stay and 
 help look after the stables, he set forward the next morn 
 ing with a new and most delightful confidence in himself. 
 The knowledge that now nobody knew -him as "Jake Flint " 
 quite removed his tortured self-consciousness. When he 
 met a person who was glum and ungracious of speech, he 
 saw, nevertheless, that he was not its special object. He 
 was sometimes asked questions, to be sure, which a little 
 embarrassed him, but he soon hit upon answers which 
 were sufficiently true without betraying his purpose. 
 
 Wandering sometimes to the right and sometimes 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 123 
 
 to the left, he slowly made his way into the land, until, on 
 the afternoon of the fourth day after leaving home, he 
 found himself in a rougher region a rocky, hilly tract, 
 with small and not very flourishing farms in the valleys. 
 Here the season appeared to be more backward than m 
 the open country ; the hay harvest was not yet over. 
 
 Jacob s taste for scenery was not particularly culti 
 vated, but something in the loneliness and quiet of the 
 farms reminded him of his own home ; and he looked at 
 one house after another, deliberating with himself whether 
 it would not be a good place to spend the remainder of 
 his month of probation. He seemed to be very far from 
 home about forty miles, in fact, and was beginning to 
 feel a little tired of wandering. 
 
 Finally the road climbed a low pass of the hills, and 
 dropped into a valley on the opposite side. There was 
 but one house in view a two-story building of logs and 
 plaster, with a garden and orchard on the hillside in the 
 rear. A large meadow stretched in front, and when the 
 whole of it lay clear before him, as the road issued from 
 a wood, his eye was caught by an unusual harvest picture. 
 
 Directly before him, a woman, whose face was con 
 cealed by a huge, flapping sun-bonnet, was seated upon a 
 mowing machine, guiding a span of horses around the 
 great tract of thick grass which was still uncut. A little 
 distance off, a boy and girl were raking the drier swaths 
 together, and a hay-cart, drawn by oxen and driven by a 
 man, was just entering the meadow from the side next the 
 
124 TALES OF HOME 
 
 Jacob hung his bundle upon a stake, threw his coat 
 and waistcoat over the rail, and, resting his chin on his 
 shirted arms, leaned on the fence, and watched the hay 
 makers. As the woman came down the nearer side she 
 appeared to notice him, for her head was turned from time 
 to time in his direction. When she had made the round, 
 she stopped the horses at the corner, sprang lightly from 
 her seat and called to the man, who, leaving his team, 
 met her half-way. They were nearly a furlong distant, 
 but Jacob was quite sure that she pointed to him, and 
 that the man looked in the same direction. Presently 
 she set off across the meadow, directly towards him. 
 
 When within a few paces of the fence, she stopped, 
 threw back the flaps of her sun-bonnet, and said, " Good 
 day to you ! " 
 
 Jacob was so amazed to see a bright, fresh, girlish 
 face, that he stared at her with all his eyes, forgetting to 
 drop his head. Indeed, he could not have done so, for 
 his chin was propped upon the top rail of the fence. 
 
 "You are a stranger, I see," she added. 
 
 " Yes, in these parts," he replied. 
 
 " Looking for work ? " 
 
 He hardly knew what answer to make, so he said, at a 
 venture, "That s as it happens." Then he colored a 
 little, for the words seemed foolish to his ears. 
 
 " Time s precious," said the girl, " so I ll tell you at 
 once we want help. Our hay must be got in while the 
 fine weather lasts." 
 
 " I ll help you ! " Jacob exclaimed, taking his arms 
 from the rail, and looking as willing as he felt. 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 12$ 
 
 " I m so glad ! But I must tell you, at first, that we re 
 not rich, and the hands are asking a great deal now. 
 How much do you expect ? " 
 
 " Whatever you please ? " said he, climbing the fence. 
 
 " No, that s not our way of doing business. What do 
 you say to a dollar a day, and found ? " 
 
 " All right ! " and with the words he was already at 
 her side, taking long strides over the elastic turf. 
 
 " I will go on with my mowing," said she, when they 
 reached the horses, " and you can rake and load with my 
 father. What name shall I call you by ? " 
 
 " Everybody calls me Jake." 
 
 " Jake ! Jacob is better. Well, Jacob, I hope you ll 
 give us all the help you can." 
 
 With a nod and a light laugh she sprang upon the 
 machine. There was a sweet throb in Jacob s heart, 
 which, if he could have expressed it, would have been a 
 triumphant shout of " I m not afraid of her ! I m not 
 afraid of her!" 
 
 The farmer was a kindly, depressed man, with whose 
 quiet ways Jacob instantly felt himself at home. They 
 worked steadily until sunset, when the girl, detaching her 
 horses from the machine, mounted one of them and led 
 the other to the barn. At the supper-table, the farmer s 
 wife said : " Susan, you must be very tired." 
 
 " Not now, mother ! " she cheerily answered. " I was, 
 I think, but after I picked up Jacob I felt sure we should 
 get our hay in." 
 
 " It was a good thing," said the farmer ; "Jacob don t 
 need to be told how to work." 
 
126 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Poor Jacob ! He was so happy he could have cried. 
 He sat and listened, and blushed a little, with a smile on 
 his face which it was a pleasure to see. The honest peo 
 ple did not seem to regard him in the least as a stranger 
 they discussed their family interests and troubles and 
 hopes before him, and in a little whHe it seemed as if he 
 had known them always. 
 
 How faithfully he worked ! How glad and tired he 
 felt when night came, and the hay-mow was filled, and the 
 great stacks grew beside the barn ! But ah ! the haying 
 came to an end, and on the last evening, at supper, 
 everybody was constrained and silent. Even Susan looked 
 grave and thoughtful. 
 
 " Jacob," said the farmer, finally, " I wish we could 
 keep you until wheat harvest ; but you know we are poor, 
 and can t afford it. Perhaps you could " 
 
 He hesitated ; but Jacob, catching at the chance and 
 obeying his own unselfish impulse, cried: "Oh, yes, I 
 can; I ll be satisfied with my board, till the wheat s 
 ripe." 
 
 Susan looked at him quickly, with a bright, speaking 
 face. 
 
 " It s hardly fair to you," said the farmer. 
 
 " But I like to be here so much ! " Jacob cried. " I 
 like all of you ! " 
 
 " We do seem to suit," said the farmer, " like as one 
 family. And that reminds me, we ve not heard your fam 
 ily name yet" 
 
 "Flint" 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 127 
 
 " Jacob Flint J " exclaimed the farmer s wife, with sud 
 den agitation. 
 
 Jacob was scared and troubled. They had heard of 
 him, he thought, and who knew what ridiculous stcries? 
 Susan noticed an anxiety on his face which she could not 
 understand, but she unknowingly came to his relief. 
 
 " Why, mother," she asked, " do you know Jacob s 
 family?" 
 
 " No, I think not," said her mother, " only somebody 
 of the name, long ago." 
 
 His offer, however, was gratefully accepted. The 
 bright, hot summer days came and went, but no flower of 
 July ever opened as rapidly and richly and warmly as his 
 chilled, retarded nature. New thoughts and instincts 
 came with every morning s sun, and new conclusions were 
 reached with every evening s twilight. Yet as the wheat 
 harvest drew towards the end, he felt that he must leave 
 the place. The month of absence had gone by, he scarce 
 knew how. He was free to return home, and, though he 
 might offer to bridge over the gap between wheat and 
 oats, as he had already done between hay and wheat, he 
 -imagined the family might hesitate to accept such an offer. 
 Moreover, this life at Susan s side was fast growing to be 
 a pain, unless he could assure himself that it would be 
 so forever. 
 
 They were in the wheat-field, busy with the last 
 sheaves, she raking and he binding. The farmer and 
 younger children had gone to the barn with a load. 
 Jacob was working silently and steadily, but when they 
 
128 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 had reached the end of a row, he stopped, wiped his wel 
 brow, and suddenly said, " Susan, I suppose to-day fin 
 ishes my work here." 
 
 " Yes," she answered very slowly. 
 
 " And yet I m very sorry to go." 
 
 " I we don t want you to go, if we could help it." 
 
 Jacob appeared to struggle with himself. He attempt 
 ed to speak. " If I could " he brought out, and then 
 paused. " Susan, would you be glad if I came 
 back ? " 
 
 His eyes implored her to read his meaning. No doubt 
 she read it correctly, for her face flushed, her eyelids fell, 
 and she barely murmured, "Yes, Jacob." 
 
 "Then I ll come!" he cried; "Til come and help 
 you with the oats. Don t talk of pay ! Only tell me I ll 
 be welcome ! Susan, don t you believe I ll keep my 
 word?" 
 
 " I do indeed," said she, looking him firmly in the 
 face. 
 
 That was all that was said at the time ; but the two 
 understood each other tolerably well. 
 
 On the afternoon of the second day, Jacob saw again* 
 the lonely house of his father. His journey was made, 
 yet, if any of the neighbors had seen him, they would 
 never have believed that he had come back rich. 
 
 Samuel Flint turned away to hide a peculiar smile 
 when he saw his son ; but little was said until late that 
 evening, after Harry and Sally had left. Then he requir 
 ed and received an exact account of Jacob s experience 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 129 
 
 during his absence. After hearing the story to the end, 
 he said, " And so you love this Susan Meadows ? " 
 
 " I d I d do any thing to be with her." 
 
 " Are you afraid of her ? " 
 
 " No ! " Jacob uttered the word so emphatically that 
 it rang through the house. 
 
 "Ah, well ! " said the old man, lifting his eyes, and speak 
 ing in the air, " all the harm may be mended yet. But there 
 must be another test." Then he was silent for some time. 
 
 " I have it ! " he finally exclaimed. " Jacob,you must 
 go back for the oats harvest. You must ask Susan to be 
 your wife, and ask her parents to let you have her. But, 
 pay attention to my words ! you must tell her that 
 you are a poor, hired man on this place, and that she can 
 be engaged as housekeeper. Don t speak of me as your 
 father, but as the owner of the farm. Bring her here in 
 that belief, and let me see how honest and willing she is. 
 I can easily arrange matters with Harry and Sally while 
 you are away ; and I ll only ask you to keep up the ap 
 pearance of the thing for a month or so." 
 
 " But, father," Jacob began. 
 
 " Not a word ! Are you not willing to do that much 
 for the sake of having her all your life, and this farm after 
 me ? Suppose it is covered with a mortgage, if she is all 
 you say, you two can work it off. Not a word more I It 
 is no lie, after all, that you will tell her." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Jacob, " that she could not leave 
 her home now. She is too useful there, and the family is 
 so poor." 
 
 6* 
 
130 TAl ES OF HOME. 
 
 " Tell them that both your wages, for the first year, 
 shall go to them. It ll be my business to rake and scrape 
 the money together somehow. Say, too, that the house 
 keeper s place can t be kept for her must be filled at 
 once. Push matters like a man, if you mean to be a com 
 plete one, and bring her here, if she carries no more with 
 her than the clothes on her back ! " 
 
 During the following days Jacob had time to familiar 
 ize his mind with this startling proposal. He knew his 
 father s stubborn will too well to suppose that it could be 
 changed ; but the inevitable soon converted itself into the 
 possible and desirable. The sweet face of Susan as she 
 had stood before him jn the wheat-field was continually 
 present to his eyes, and ere long, he began to place her, 
 in his thoughts, in the old rooms at home, in the garden, 
 among the thickets by the brook, and in Ann Pardon s 
 pleasant parlor. Enough ; his father s plan became his 
 own long before the time was out. 
 
 On his second journey everybody seemed to be an 
 old acquaintance and an intimate friend. It was evening 
 as he approached the Meadows farm, but the younger 
 children recognized him in the dusk, and their cry of, 
 u Oh, here s Jacob ! " brought out the farmer and his 
 wife and Susan, with the heartiest of welcomes. They 
 had all missed him, they said even the horses and oxen 
 had looked for him, and they were wondering how they 
 should get the oats harvested without him. 
 
 Jacob looked at Susan as the farmer said this, and 
 her eyes seemed to answer, " I said nothing, but I knew 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 131 
 
 
 
 you would come." Then, first, he felt sufficient courage 
 for the task before him. 
 
 He rose the next morning, before any one was stirring, 
 and waited until she should come down stairs. The sun 
 had not risen when she appeared, with a milk-pail in each 
 hand, walking unsuspectingly to the cow-yard. He way 
 laid her, took the pails in his hand and said in nervous 
 haste, " Susan, will you be my wife ? " 
 
 She stopped as if she had received a sudden blow \ 
 then a shy, sweet consent seemed to run through her heart 
 O Jacob ! " was all she could say. 
 
 " But you will, Susan ? " he urged ; and then (neither 
 of them exactly knew how it happened) all at once his 
 arms were around her, and they had kissed each other. 
 
 " Susan," he said, presently, " I am a poor man only 
 a farm hand, and must work for my living. You could 
 look for a better husband." 
 
 " I could never find a better than you, Jacob." 
 
 " Would you work with me, too, at the same place ? " 
 
 " You know I am not afraid of work," she answered, 
 " and I could never want any other lot than yours." 
 
 Then he told her the story which his father had prompt 
 ed. Her face grew bright and happy as she listened, and 
 he saw how from her very heart she accepted the humble 
 fortune. Only the thought of her parents threw a cloud 
 over the new and astonishing vision. Jacob, however, 
 grew bolder as he saw fulfilment of his hope so near. 
 They took the pails and seated themselves beside neigh 
 bor cows, one raising objections or misgivings which thfl 
 
132 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 i 
 
 other manfully combated. Jacob s earnestness uncon 
 sciously ran into his hands, as he discovered when the im 
 patient cow began to snort and kick. 
 
 The harvesting of the oats was not commenced that 
 morning. The children were sent away, and there was a 
 council of four persons held in the parlor. The result of 
 mutual protestations and much weeping was, that the far 
 mer and his wife agreed to receive Jacob as a son-in-law ; 
 the offer of the wages was four times refused by them, and 
 then accepted ; and the chance of their being able to live 
 and labor together was finally decided to be too fortunate 
 to let slip. When the shock and surprise was over all 
 gradually became cheerful, and, as the matter was more 
 calmly discussed, the first conjectured difficulties somehow 
 resolved themselves into trifles. 
 
 It was the simplest and quietest wedding, at home 
 on an August morning. Farmer Meadows then drove the 
 bridal pair half-way on their journey, to the old country 
 tavern, where a fresh conveyance had been engaged for 
 them. The same evening they reached the farm-house in 
 the valley, and Jacob s happy mood gave place to an anx 
 ious uncertainty as he remembered the period of deception 
 upon which Susan was entering. He keenly watched his 
 father s face when they arrived, and was a little relieved^ 
 when he saw that his wife had made a good first impres 
 sion. 
 
 " So, this is my new housekeeper," said the old man. 
 tt I hope you will suit me as well as your husband does." 
 
 " I ll do my best, sir," said she ; " but you must have 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 133 
 
 patience with me for a few days, until I know your ways 
 and wishes." 
 
 " Mr. Flint," said Sally, " shall I get supper ready ? " 
 
 Susan looked up in astonishment at hearing the name 
 
 " Yes," the old mar remarked, " we both have the 
 same name. The fac f *s, Jacob and I are a sort of rela 
 dons." 
 
 Jacob, in spite of his new happiness, continued ill at 
 ease, although he could not help seeing how his father 
 brightened under Susan s genial influence, how satisfied 
 he was with her quick, neat, exact ways and the cheerful 
 ness with which she fulfilled her duties. At the end of a 
 week, the old man counted out the wages agreed upon for 
 both, and his delight culminated at the frank simplicity 
 with which Susan took what she supposed she had fairly 
 earned. 
 
 " Jacob," he whispered when she had left the room, 
 " keep quiet one more week, and then I ll let her know." 
 
 He had scarcely spoken, when Susan burst into the 
 room again, crying, " Jacob, they are coming, they have 
 come ! " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Father and mother ; and we didn t expect them, you 
 know, for a week yet." 
 
 All three went to the door as the visitors made their 
 appearance on the veranda. Two of the party stood as 
 if thunderstruck, and two exclamations came together : 
 
 " Samuel Flint ! " 
 
 " Lucy Wheeler 1 " 
 
134 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 There was a moment s silence ; then the farmer s wile, 
 with a visible effort to compose herself, said, " Lucy Mead 
 ows, now." 
 
 The tears came into Samuel Flint s eyes. " Let us 
 shake hands, Lucy," he said : " my son has married your 
 daughter." 
 
 All but Jacob were freshly startled at these words. 
 The two shook hands, and then Samuel, turning to Su 
 san s father, said : " And this is your husband, Lucy. I 
 am glad to make his acquaintance." 
 
 " Your father, Jacob ! " Susan cried ; " what does it all 
 mean ? " 
 
 Jacob s face grew red, and the old habit of hanging his 
 head nearly came back upon him. He knew not what to 
 say, and looked wistfully at his father. 
 
 u Come into the house and sit down," said the latter. 
 " I think we shall all fee! better when we have quietly and 
 comfortably talked the matter over." 
 
 They went into the quaint, old-fashioned parlor, which 
 had already been transformed by Susan s care, so that 
 much of its shabbiness was hidden. When all were seated, 
 and Samuel Flint perceived that none of the others knew 
 what to say, he took a resolution which, for a man of his 
 mood and habit of life, required some courage. 
 
 " Three of us here are old people," he began, " and 
 the two young ones love each other. It was so long ago, 
 Lucy, that it cannot be laid to my blame if I speak of it 
 now. Your husband, I see, has an honest heart, and will 
 not misunderstand either of us. The same thing often 
 
JACOB FLINT S JOURNEY. 135 
 
 turns up in life ; it is one of those secrets that everybody 
 knows, and that everybody talks about except the persons 
 concerned. When I was a young man, Lucy, I loved you 
 truly, and I faithfully meant to make you my wife." 
 
 " I thought so too, for a while," said she, very calmly. 
 
 Farmer Meadows looked at his wife, and no face was 
 ever more beautiful than his, with that expression of gen 
 erous pity shining through it. 
 
 "You know how I acted," Samuel Flint continued, 
 " but our children must also know that I broke off from 
 you without giving any reason. A woman came between 
 us and made all the mischief. I was considered rich then, 
 and she wanted to secure my money for her daughter. I 
 was an innocent and unsuspecting young man, who be 
 lieved that everybody else was as good as myself; and 
 the woman never rested until she had turned me from my 
 first love, and fastened me for life to another. Little by 
 little I discovered the truth ; I kept the knowledge of the 
 injury to myself; I quickly got rid of the money which 
 had so cursed me, and brought my wife to this, the lone 
 liest and dreariest place in the neighborhood, where I 
 forced upon her a life of poverty. I thought it was a just 
 revenge, but I was unjust. She really loved me : she was, 
 if not quite without blame in the matter, ignorant of the 
 worst that had been done (I learned all that too late), and 
 she never complained, though the change in me slowly 
 wore out her life. I know now that I was cruel ; but at 
 the same time I punished myself, and was innocently pun 
 bhing my son. But to him there was one way to make 
 
136 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 amends. * I will help him to a wife/ I said, who wiH 
 gladly take poverty with him and for his sake. I forced 
 him, against his will, to say that he was a hired hand on 
 this p ace, and that Susan must be content to be a hired 
 housekeeper. Now that I know Susan, I see that this 
 proof might have been left out ; but I guess it has done 
 no harm. The place is not so heavily mortgaged as peo 
 ple think, and it will be Jacob s after I am gone. And 
 now forgive me, all of you, Lucy first, for she has most 
 cause ; Jacob next ; and Susan, that will be easier ; and 
 you, Friend Meadows, if what I have said has been hard 
 for you to hear." 
 
 The farmer stood up like a man, took Samuel s hand 
 and his wife s, and said, in a broken voice : " Lucy, I ask 
 you, too, to forgive him, and I ask you both to be good 
 friends to each other. 1 
 
 Susan, dissolved in tears, kissed all of them in turn ; 
 but the happiest heart there was Jacob s. 
 
 It was now easy for him to confide to his wife the 
 complete story of his troubles, and to find his growing 
 self-reliance strengthened by her quick, intelligent sympa 
 thy. The Pardons were better friends than ever, and the 
 fact, which at first created great astonishment in the 
 neighborhood, that Jacob Flint had really gone upon a 
 journey and brought home a handsome wife, began to 
 change the attitude of the people towards him. The old 
 place was no longer so lonely ; the nearest neighbors be 
 gan to drop in and insist on return visits. Now that Ja 
 cob kept his head up, and they got a fair view of his 
 
JACOB FLINTS JOURNEY. 137 
 
 they discovered that he was not lacking, after all, in sense 
 or social qualities. 
 
 In October, the Whitney place, which had been leased 
 for several years, was advertised to be sold at public sale. 
 The owner had gone to the city and become a successful 
 merchant, had outlived his local attachments, and now 
 took advantage of a rise in real estate to disburden him 
 self of a property which he could not profitably control. 
 
 Everybody from far and wide attended the sale, and, 
 when Jacob Flint and his father arrived, everybody said 
 to the former : " Of course ^Wve come to buy, Jacob." 
 But each man laughed at his own smartness, and consid 
 ered the remark original with himself. 
 
 Jacob was no longer annoyed. He laughed, too, and 
 answered : " I m afraid I can t do that ; but I ve kept half 
 my word, which is more than most men do." 
 
 " Jake s no fool, after all," was whispered behind him. 
 
 The bidding commenced, at first very spirited, and 
 then gradually slacking off, as the price mounted above 
 the means of the neighboring farmers. The chief aspi 
 rant was a stranger, a well-dressed man with a lawyer s 
 air, whom nobody knew. After the usual long pauses 
 and passionate exhortations, the hammer fell, and the auc 
 tioneer, turning to the stranger, asked, "What name? " 
 
 " Jacob Flint ! " 
 
 There was a general cry of surprise. All looked at 
 Jacob, whose eyes and mouth showed that he was as 
 dumbfoundered as the rest 
 
 The stranger walked coolly through the midst of the 
 
138 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 crowd to Samuel Flint, and said, " When shall I have the 
 pr^ers drawn up ? " 
 
 " As soon as you can," the old man replied ; then seiz 
 ing Jacob by the arm, with the words, " Let s go home 
 now ! " he hurried him on. 
 
 The explanation soon leaked out. Samuel Flint had 
 not thrown away his wealth, but had put it out of his own 
 hands. It was given privately to trustees, to be held for 
 his son, and returned when the latter should have married 
 with his father s consent. There was more than enough 
 to buy the Whitney place. 
 
 Jacob and Susan are happy in their stately home, and 
 good as they are happy. If any person in the neighbor 
 hood ever makes use of the phrase " Jacob Flint s Jour 
 ney," he intends thereby to symbolize the good fortune 
 which sometimes follows honesty, reticence, and shrewd 
 ness. 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 
 
 HAD been reading, as is my wont from 
 time to time, one of the many volumes of 
 "The New Pitaval," that singular record 
 of human crime and human cunning, and 
 also of the inevitable fatality which, in ev 
 ery case, leaves a gate open for detection. 
 Were it not for the latter fact, indeed, one would turn 
 with loathing from such endless chronicles of wickedness. 
 Yet these may be safely contemplated, when one has dis 
 covered the incredible fatuity of crime, the certain weak 
 mesh in a network of devilish texture ; or is it rather the 
 agency of a power outside of man, a subtile protecting 
 principle, which allows the operation of the evil element 
 only that the latter may finally betray itself? Whatever 
 explanation we may choose, the fact is there, like a tonic 
 medicine distilled from poisonous plants, to brace our faith 
 in the ascendancy of Good in the government of the world. 
 Laying aside the book, I fell into a speculation con 
 cerning the mixture of the two elements in man s nature. 
 The life of an individual is usually, it seemed lo me, a 
 
140 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 series of results, the processes leading to which are not 
 often visible, or observed when they are so. Each act is 
 the precipitation of a number of mixed influences, more 
 or less unconsciously felt ; the qualities of good and evil 
 are so blended therein that they defy the keenest moral 
 analysis; and how shall we, then, pretend to judge of 
 any one ? Perhaps the surest indication of evil (I further 
 reflected) is that it always tries to conceal itself, and the 
 strongest incitement to good is that evil cannot be con 
 cealed. The crime, or the vice, or even the self-acknowl 
 edged weakness, becomes apart of the individual conscious 
 ness ; it cannot be forgotten or outgrown. It follows a 
 life through all experiences and to the uttermost ends of 
 the earth, pressing towards the light with a terrible, demo 
 niac power. There are noteless lives, of course lives 
 that accept obscurity, mechanically run their narrow round 
 of circumstance, and are lost ; but when a life endeavors 
 to lose itself, to hide some conscious guilt or failure, 
 can it succeed ? Is it not thereby lifted above the level 
 of common experience, compelling attention to itself by 
 the very endeavor to escape it ? 
 
 I turned these questions over in my mind, without ap 
 proaching, or indeed expecting, any solution, since I 
 knew, from habit, the labyrinths into which they would 
 certainly lead me, when a visitor was announced. It 
 was one of the directors of our county almshouse, who 
 came on an errand to which he attached no great impor 
 tance. I owed the visit, apparently, to the circumstance 
 that my home lay in his way, and he could at once relieve 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 141 
 
 his conscience of a very trifling pressure and his pocket 
 of a small package, by calling upon me. His story was 
 told in a few words ; the package was placed upon my 
 table, and I was again left to my meditations. 
 
 Two or three days before, a man who had the appear 
 ance of a " tramp" had been observed by the people of a 
 small village in the neighborhood. He stopped and looked 
 at the houses in a vacant way, walked back and forth 
 once or twice as if uncertain which of the cross-roads to 
 take, and presently went on without begging or even speak 
 ing to any one. Towards sunset a farmer, on his way to 
 the village store, found him sitting at the roadside, his 
 head resting against a fence-post. The man s face was 
 so worn and exhausted that the farmer kindly stopped 
 and addressed him ; but he gave no other reply than a 
 shake of the head. 
 
 The farmer thereupon lifted him into his light country- 
 wagon, the man offering no resistance, and drove to the 
 tavern, where, his exhaustion being so evident, a glass of 
 whiskey was administered to him. He afterwards spoke 
 a few words in German, which no one understood. At 
 the almshouse, to which he was transported the same 
 evening, he refused to answer the customary questions, 
 although he appeared to understand them. The physician 
 was obliged to use a slight degree of force in administer 
 ing nourishment and medicine, but neither was of any 
 avail. The man died within twenty-four hours after be 
 ing received. His pockets were empty, but two small 
 leathern wallets were found under his pillow ; and these 
 
14-2 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 formed the package which the director left in my charge 
 They were full of papers in a foreign language, he said, 
 and he supposed I might be able to ascertain the stran 
 ger s name and home from them. 
 
 I took up the wallets, which were worn and greasy 
 from long service, opened them, and saw that they were 
 filled with scraps, fragments, and folded pieces of paper, 
 nearly every one of which had been carried for a long 
 time loose in the pocket. Some were written in pen and 
 ink, and some in pencil, but all were equally brown, worn, 
 and unsavory in appearance. In turning them over, how 
 ever, my eye was caught by some slips in the Russian 
 character, and three or four notes in French ; the rest 
 were German. I laid aside " Pitaval" at once, emptied 
 all the leathern pockets carefully, and set about examin 
 ing the pile of material. 
 
 I first ran rapidly through the papers to ascertain the 
 dead man s. name, but it was nowhere to be found. There 
 were half a dozen letters, written on sheets folded and 
 addressed in the fashion which prevailed before envelopes 
 were invented ; but the name was cut out of the address 
 in every case. There was an official permit to embark 
 on board a Bremen steamer, mutilated in the same way ; 
 there was a card photograph, from which the face had 
 been scratched by a penknife. There were Latin senten 
 ces ; accounts of expenses ; a list of New York addresses, 
 covering eight pages ; and a number of notes, written 
 either in Warsaw or Breslau. A more incongruous collec 
 tion I never saw, and I am sure that had it not been for 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 143 
 
 the train of thought I was pursuing when the directoi 
 called upon me, I should have returned the papers to him 
 without troubling my head with any attempt to unravel 
 the man s story. 
 
 The evidence, however, that he had endeavored to 
 hide his life, had been revealed by my first superficial ex 
 amination ; and here, I reflected, was a singular opportu 
 nity to test both his degree of success and my own power 
 of constructing a coherent history out of the detached 
 fragments. Unpromising as is the matter, said I, let me 
 see whether he can conceal his secret from even such un 
 practised eyes as mine. 
 
 I went through the papers again, read each one rapid 
 ly, and arranged them in separate files, according to the 
 character of their contents. Then I rearranged these 
 latter in the order of time, so far as it was indicated ; and 
 afterwards commenced the work of picking out and thread 
 ing together whatever facts might be noted. The first 
 thing I ascertained, or rather conjectured, was that the 
 man s life might be divided into three very distinct 
 phases, the first ending in Breslau, the second in Poland, 
 and the third and final one in America. Thereupon I 
 once again rearranged the material, and attacked that 
 which related to the first phase. 
 
 It consisted of the following papers : Three letters, in 
 a female hand, commencing " My dear brother," and ter 
 minating with "Thy loving sister, Elise;" part of a diplo 
 ma from a gymnasium, or high school, certifying that 
 [here the name was cut out] had successfully passed his 
 
144 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 examination, and was competent to teach, and here 
 again, whether by accident or design, the paper was torn 
 off; a note, apparently to a jeweller, ordering a certain 
 gold ring to be delivered to " Otto," and signed " B. v. 
 H. ," a receipt from the package-post for a box forwarded 
 to Warsaw, to the address of Count Ladislas Kasincsky j 
 and finally a washing-list, at the bottom of which was 
 written, in pencil, in a trembling hand : " May God pro 
 tect thee ! But do not stay away so very long." 
 
 In the second collection, relating to Poland, I found 
 the following : Six orders in Russian and three in French, 
 requesting somebody to send by "Jean" sums of money, 
 varying from two to eight hundred rubles. These orders 
 were in the same hand, and all signed " Y." A charming 
 letter in French, addressed " cher ami," and declining, in 
 the most delicate and tender way, an offer of marriage 
 made to the sister of the writer, of whose signature only 
 " Amelie de " remained, the family name having been 
 torn off. A few memoranda of expenses, one of which 
 was curious : " Dinner with Jean, 58 rubles ; " and imme 
 diately after it : " Doctor, 10 rubles." There were, more 
 over, a leaf torn out of a journal, and half of a note which 
 had been torn down the middle, both implicating " Jean " 
 in some way with the fortunes of the dead man. 
 
 The papers belonging to the American phase, so far 
 as they were to be identified by dates, or by some inter 
 nal evidence, were fewer, but even more enigmatical in 
 character. The principal one was a list of addresses in 
 New York, divided into sections, the street boundaries of 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 145 
 
 which were given. There were no names, but some of the 
 addresses were marked -f , and others ?, and a few had 
 been crossed out with a pencil. Then there were some 
 leaves of a journal of diet and bodily symptoms, of a very 
 singular character ; three fragments of drafts of letters, in 
 pencil, one of them commencing, " Dog and villain ! " and 
 a single note of " Began work, September ioth, 1865." 
 This was about a year before his death. 
 
 The date of the diploma given by the gymnasium at 
 Breslau was June 27, 1855, and the first date in Poland 
 was May 3, 1861. Belonging to the time between these 
 two periods there were only the order for the ring (1858), 
 and a little memorandum in pencil, dated " Posen, Dec., 
 1859." The last date in Poland was March 18, 1863, an( * 
 the permit to embark at Bremen was dated in October of 
 that year. Here, at least, was a slight chronological 
 framework. The physician who attended the county 
 almshouse had estimated the man s age at thirty, which, 
 supposing him to have been nineteen at the time of 
 receiving the diploma, confirmed the dates to that ex 
 tent 
 
 I assumed, at the start, that the name which had been 
 so carefully cut out of all the documents was the man s 
 own. The " Elise " of the letters was therefore his sister. 
 The first two letters related merely to "mother s health," 
 and similar details, from which it was impossible to ex 
 tract any thing, except that the sister was in some kind of 
 service. The second letter closed with : " I have enough 
 work to do, but I keep well. Forget thy disappointment 
 7 
 
146 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 30 far as / am concerned, for I never expected any thing ; 
 I don t know why, but I never did." 
 
 Here was a disappointment, at least, to begin with. I 
 jnade a note of it opposite the date, on my blank pro 
 gramme, and took up the next letter. It was written in 
 November, 1861, and contained a passage which keenly 
 excited my curiosity. It ran thus : " Do, pray, be more 
 careful of thy money. It may be all as thou sayest, and 
 inevitable, but I dare not mention the thing to mother, 
 and five thalers is all I can spare out of my own wages. 
 As for thy other request, I have granted it, as thou seest, 
 but it makes me a little anxious. What is the joke? 
 And how can it serve thee? That is what I do not 
 understand, and I have plagued myself not a little to 
 guess." 
 
 Among the Polish memoranda was this : " Sept. i to 
 Dec. i, 200 rubles," which I assumed to represent a sal 
 ary. This would give him eight hundred a year, at least 
 twelve times the amount which his sister who must 
 either have been cook or housekeeper, since she spoke 
 of going to market for the family could have received. 
 His application to her for money, and the manner of her 
 reference to it, indicated some imprudence or irregularity 
 on his part. What the " other request " was, I could not 
 guess ; but as I was turning and twisting the worn leaf in 
 some perplexity, I made a sudden discovery. One side 
 of the bottom edge had been very slightly doubled ovei 
 in folding, and as I smoothed it out, I noticed some di 
 minutive letters in the crease. The paper had been woin 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 147 
 
 nearly through, but I made out the words: "Write very 
 soon, dear Otto ! " 
 
 This was the name in the order for the gold ring, 
 signed " B. v. H." a link, indeed, but a fresh puzzle. 
 Knowing the stubborn prejudices of caste in Germany, 
 and above all in Eastern Prussia and Silesia, I should 
 have been compelled to accept " Otto," whose sister was 
 in service, as himself the servant of " B. v. H.," but for 
 the tenderly respectful letter of "Amelie de ," declin 
 ing the marriage offer for her sister. I re-read this letter 
 very carefully, to determine whether it was really intended 
 for " Otto." It ran thus : 
 
 l DEAR FRIEND, I will not say that your letter was 
 entirely unexpected, either to Helmine or myself. I 
 should, perhaps, have less faith in the sincerity of your 
 attachment if you had not already involuntarily betrayed 
 it. When I say that although I detected the inclination 
 of your heart some weeks ago, and that I also saw it was 
 becoming evident to my sister, yet I refrained from men 
 tioning the subject at all until she came to me last even 
 ing with your letter in her hand, when I say this, you 
 will understand that I have acted towards you with the 
 respect and sympathy which I profoundly feel. Helmine 
 fully shares this feeling, and her poor heart is too pain 
 fully moved to allow her to reply. Do I not say, in say 
 ing this, what her reply must be ? But, though her heart 
 cannot respond to your love, she hopes you will always 
 believe her a friend to whom your proffered devotion was 
 an honor, and will be if you will subdue it to her de 
 serts a grateful thing to remember. We shall remain in 
 Warsaw a fortnight longer, as I think yourself will agree 
 
148 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 that it is better we should not immediately return to the 
 castle. Jean, who must carry a fresh order already, will 
 bring you this, and we hope to have good news of Henri. 
 I send back the papers, which were unnecessary ; we 
 never doubted you, and we shall of course keep your se 
 cret so long as you choose to wear it. 
 
 "AMELIE DE " 
 
 The more light I seemed to obtain, the more inexpli 
 cable the circumstances became. The diploma and the 
 note of salary were grounds for supposing that " Otto " 
 occupied the position of tutor in a noble Polish family. 
 There was the receipt for a box addressed to Count Lad- 
 islas Kasincsky, and I temporarily added his family name 
 to the writer of the French letter, assuming her to be his 
 wife. " Jean " appeared to be a servant, and " Henri " I 
 set down as the son whom Otto was instructing in the cas 
 tle or family seat in the country, while the parents were 
 in Warsaw. Plausible, so far ; but the letter was not such 
 a one as a countess would have written to her son s tutor, 
 under similar circumstances. It was addressed to a social 
 equal, apparently to a man younger than herself, and for 
 whom supposing him to have been a tutor, secretary, or 
 something of the kind she must have felt a special sym 
 pathy. Her mention of " the papers " and " your secret " 
 must refer to circumstances which would explain the mys 
 tery. " So long as you choose to wear it," she had writ 
 ten : then it was certainly a secret connected with his 
 personal history. 
 
 Further, it appeared that u Jean " was sent to him with 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 149 
 
 * an order." What could this be, but one of the nine or 
 ders for money which lay before my eyes ? I examined 
 the dates of the latter, and lo ! there was one written 
 upon the same day as the lady s letter. The sums drawn 
 by these orders amounted in all to four thousand two hun 
 dred rubles. But how should a tutor or secretary be in 
 possession of his employer s money ? Still, this might be 
 accounted for ; it would imply great trust on the part of 
 the latter, but no more than one man frequently reposes 
 in another. Yet, if it were so, one of the memoranda 
 confronted me with a conflicting fact : " Dinner with Jean, 
 58 rubles." The unusual amount nearly fifty dollars 
 indicated an act of the most reckless dissipation, and in 
 company with a servant, if " Jean," as I could scarcely 
 doubt, acted in that character. I finally decided to as 
 sume both these conjectures as true, and apply them to the 
 remaining testimony. 
 
 I first took up the leaf which had been torn out of a 
 small journal or pocket note-book, as was manifested by 
 the red edge on three sides. It was scribbled over with 
 brief notes in pencil, written at different times. Many of 
 them were merely mnemonic signs ; but the recurrence 
 of the letters J and Y seemed to point to transactions with 
 " Jean," and the drawer of the various sums of money, 
 The letter Y reminded me that I had been too hasty in 
 giving the name of Kasincsky to the noble family ; in 
 deed, the name upon the post-office receipt might have no 
 connection with the matter I was trying to investigate. 
 Suddenly I noticed a * Ky " among the mnemonic signs, 
 
150 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 and the suspicion flashed across my mind that Count Ka- 
 sincsky had signed the order with the last letter of his 
 family name ! To assume this, however, suggested a secret 
 reason for doing so ; and I began to think that I had 
 already secrets enough on hand. 
 
 The leaf was much rubbed and worn, and it was not 
 without considerable trouble that I deciphered the follow 
 ing (omitting the unintelligible signs) : 
 
 "Oct. 30 (Nov. 12) talk with Y ; 20 Jean. Con 
 sider. 
 
 " Nov. 15 with J H hope. 
 
 " Dec. i Told the C. No knowledge of S there 
 fore safe. Uncertain of C. to Warsaw. Met J. as 
 
 agreed. Further and further. 
 
 " Dec. 27 All for naught ! All for naught ! 
 
 "Jan. 19, 63 Sick. What is to be the end? Threats. 
 No tidings of Y. Walked the streets all day. At .night 
 as usual. 
 
 " March i News. The C. and H. left yesterday. No 
 more to hope. Let it come, then ! " 
 
 These broken words warmed my imagination power 
 fully. Looking at them in the light of- my conjecture, I 
 was satisfied that " Otto " was involved in some crime, or 
 dangerous secret, of which "Jean" was either the insti 
 gator or the accomplice. " Y.," c r Count Kasincsky, and 
 I was more than ever inclined to connect the two, also 
 had his mystery, which might, or might not, be identical 
 with the first. By comparing dates, I found that the en 
 try made December 27 was three days later than the date 
 of the letter of " Amelie de " ; and the exclamation 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 151 
 
 " All for naught ! " certainly referred to the disappoint 
 ment it contained. I now guessed the " H." in the sec 
 ond entry to mean " Helmine." The two last suggested 
 a removal to Warsaw from the country. Here was a lit 
 tle more ground to stand on ; but how should I ever get 
 at the secret ? 
 
 I took up the torn half of a note, which, after the first 
 inspection, I had laid aside as a hopeless puzzle. A closer 
 examination revealed several things which failed to impress 
 me at the outset. It was written in a strong and rather 
 awkward masculine hand ; several words were under- 
 sco i d, two misspelled, and I felt I scarcely knew why 
 that it was written in a spirit of mingled contempt and 
 defiance. Let me give the fragment just as it lay before 
 me : 
 
 " ARON ! 
 
 It is quite time 
 be done. Who knows 
 is not his home by this 
 
 concern for the 
 that they are well of^ 
 sian officers are 
 
 cide at once, my 
 risau, or I must 
 t ten days delay 
 money can be divi- 
 tier, and you may 
 ever you please, 
 unless goes, and she 
 will know who you 
 
52 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 time, unless you carry 
 friend or not 
 decide, 
 ann Helm." 
 
 Here, I felt sure, was the clue to much of the mystery. 
 The first thing that struck me was the appearance of a new 
 name. I looked at it again, ran through in my mind all pos 
 sible German names, and found that it could only be " Jo- 
 hann," and in the same instant I recalled the frequent 
 habit of the Prussian and Polish nobility of calling their 
 German valets by French names. This, then, was 
 " Jean ! " The address was certainly " Baron," and why 
 thrice underscored, unless in contemptuous satire ? Light 
 began to break upon the matter at last. " Otto " had 
 been playing the part, perhaps assuming the name, of a 
 nobleman, seduced to the deception by his passion for the 
 Countess sister, Helmine. This explained the reference 
 to "the papers," and " the secret," and would account for 
 the respectful and sympathetic tone of the Countess let 
 ter. But behind this there was certainly another secret, 
 in which " Y." (whoever he might be) was concerned, and 
 which related to money. The close of the note, which I 
 filled out to read, " Your friend or not, as you may de 
 cide," conveyed a threat, and, to judge from the halves of 
 lines immediately preceding it, the threat referred to the 
 money, as well as to the betrayal of an assumed charac 
 ter. 
 
 Here, just as the story began to appear in faint outline, 
 my discoveries stopped for a while. I ascertained the 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 15^ 
 
 breadth of the original note by a part of the middle-crease 
 which remained, filled out the torn part with blank paper, 
 completed the divided words in the same character of man 
 uscript, and endeavored to guess the remainder, but no 
 clairvoyant power of divination came to my aid. I turn 
 ed over the letters again, remarking the neatness with 
 which the addresses had been cut off, and wondering why 
 the man had not destroyed the letters and other memor 
 anda entirely, if he wished to hide a possible crime. The 
 fact that they were not destroyed showed the hold which 
 his past life had had upon him even to his dying hour. 
 Weak and vain, as I had already suspected him to be, 
 wanting in all manly fibre, and of the very material which 
 a keen, energetic villain would mould to his needs, I felt 
 that his love for his sister and for " Helmine," and other 
 associations connected with his life in Germany and Po 
 land, had made him cling to these worn records. 
 
 I know not what gave me the suspicion that he had 
 not even found the heart to destroy the exscinded names ; 
 perhaps the care with which they had been removed ; per 
 haps, in two instances, the circumstance of their taking 
 words out of the body of the letters with them. But the 
 suspicion came, and led to a re-examination of the leath 
 ern wallets. I could scarcely believe my eyes, when feel 
 ing something rustle faintly as I pressed the thin lining of 
 an inner pocket, I drew forth three or four small pellets 
 of paper, and unrolling them, found the lost addresses ! 
 I fitted them to the vacant places, and found that the first 
 letters of the sister in Breslau had been forwarded to 
 7* 
 
154 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 "Otto Lindenschmidt," while the letter to Poland was 
 addressed " Otto von Herisau." 
 
 I warmed with this success, which exactly tallied with 
 the previous discoveries, and returned again to the Polish 
 memoranda. The words " [Rusjsian officers " in "Jean s " 
 note led me to notice that it had been written towards the 
 close of the last insurrection in Poland a circumstance 
 which I immediately coupled with some things in the note 
 and on the leaf of the journal. " No tidings of Y " might 
 indicate that Count Kasincsky had been concerned in the 
 rebellion, and had fled, or been taken prisoner. Had he 
 left a large amount of funds in the hands of the supposed 
 Otto von Herisau, which were drawn from time to time by 
 orders, the form of which had been previously agreed 
 upon ? Then, when he had disappeared, might it not have 
 been the remaining funds which Jean urged Otto to divide 
 with him, while the latter, misled and entangled in decep 
 tion rather than naturally dishonest, held back from such 
 a step ? I could hardly doubt so much, and it now re 
 quired but a slight effort of the imagination to complete 
 the torn note. 
 
 The next letter of the sister was addressed to Bremen. 
 After having established so many particulars, I found it 
 easily intelligible. " I have done what I can," she wrote. 
 f% I put it in this letter ; it is all I have. But do not ask 
 me for money again ; mother is ailing most of the time, 
 and I have not yet dared to tell her all. I shall suffer 
 great anxiety until I hear that the vessel has sailed. My 
 mistress is very good ; she has given me an advance on mj 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? I$5 
 
 wages, or I could not have sent thee any thing. Mother 
 thinks thou art still in Leipzig : why didst thou stay there 
 so long ? but no difference ; thy money would have gone 
 anyhow." 
 
 It was nevertheless singular that Otto should be with 
 out money, so soon after the appropriation of Count 
 Kasincsky s funds. If the " 20 " in the first memorandum 
 on the leaf meant " twenty thousand rubles," as I conject 
 ured, and but four thousand two hundred were drawn by 
 the Count previous to his flight or imprisonment, Otto s 
 half of the remainder would amount to nearly eight thou 
 sand rubles ; and it was, therefore, not easy to account for 
 his delay in Leipzig, and his destitute condition. 
 
 Before examining the fragments relating to the Ameri 
 can phase of his life, which illustrated his previous his 
 tory only by occasional revelations of his moods and feel 
 ings, I made one more effort to guess the cause of his 
 having assumed the name of " Von Herisau." The ini 
 tials signed to the order for the ring (" B. v. H.") certainly 
 stood for the same family name ; and the possession of 
 papers belonging to one of the family was an additional 
 evidence that Otto had either been in the service of, or 
 was rel ated to, some Von Herisau. Perhaps a sentence 
 in one of the sister s letters " Forget thy disappointment 
 so far as /am concerned, for I never expected any thing 
 refetred to something of the kind. On the whole, ser 
 vice seemed more likely than kinship ; but in that case 
 the papers must have been stolen. 
 
 I had endeavored, from the start, to keep my sympa- 
 
156 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 thies out of the investigation, lest they should lead me tc 
 misinterpret the broken evidence, and thus defeat my ob 
 ject. It must have been the Countess letter, and the 
 brief, almost stenographic, signs of anxiety and unhappi- 
 iiess on the leaf of the journal, that first beguiled me into 
 a commiseration, which the simple devotion and self-sac 
 rifice of the poor, toiling sister failed to neutralize. How 
 ever, I detected the feeling at this stage of the examina 
 tion, and turned to the American records, in order to get 
 rid of it. 
 
 The principal paper was the list of addresses of which 
 I have spoken. I looked over it in vain, to find some in 
 dication of its purpose ; yet it had been carefully made out 
 and much used. There was no name of a person upon it, 
 only numbers and streets, one hundred and thirty-eight 
 in all. Finally, I took these, one by one, to ascertain if 
 any of the houses were known to me, and found three, out 
 of the whole number, to be the residences of persons whom 
 I knew. One was a German gentleman, and the other 
 two were Americans who had visited Germany. The rid 
 dle was read ! During a former residence in New York, 
 I had for a time been quite overrun by destitute Germans, 
 men, apparently, of some culture, who represented them 
 selves as theological students, political refugees, or unfor 
 tunate clerks and secretaries, soliciting assistance. 1 
 found that, when I gave to one, a dozen others came with 
 in the next fortnight ; when I refused, the persecution 
 ceased for about the same length of time. I became con* 
 vinced, at last, that these persons were members of an or- 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 1 57 
 
 ganized society of beggars, and the result proved it ; for 
 when I made it an inviolable rule to give to no one who 
 could not bring me an indorsement of his need by some 
 person whom I knew, the annoyance ceased altogether. 
 
 The meaning of the list of addresses was now plain. 
 My nascent commiseration for the man was not only 
 checked, but I was in danger of changing my role from 
 that of culprit s counsel to that of prosecuting attorney. 
 
 When I took up again the fragment of the first draught 
 of a letter commencing, " Dog and villain ! " and applied 
 it to the words "Jean" or "Johann Helm," the few lines 
 which could be deciphered became full of meaning. " Don t 
 think," it began, " that I have forgotten you, or the trick 
 you played me ! If I was drunk or drugged the last night, 
 I know how it happened, for all that. I left, but I shall 
 go back. And if you make use of" (here some words 
 were entirely obliterated) . ..." is true. He gave me 
 the ring, and meant" .... This was all I could make 
 out. The other papers showed only scattered memoran 
 da, of money, or appointments, or addresses, with the ex 
 ception of the diary in pencil. 
 
 I read the letter attentively, and at first with very lit 
 tle idea of its meaning. Many of the words were abbre 
 viated, and there were some arbitrary signs. It ran over 
 a period of about four months, terminating six weeks be 
 fore the man s death. He had been wandering about 
 the country during this period, sleeping in woods and 
 barns, and living principally upon milk. The condition 
 of his pulse and other physical functions was scrupulously 
 
TALES OF HOME. 
 
 set down, with an occasional remark of " good " or " bad. : 
 The conclusion was at last forced upon me that he had 
 been endeavoring to commit suicide by a slow course of 
 starvation and exposure. Either as the cause or the re 
 sult of this attempt, I read, in the final notes, signs of an 
 aberration of mind. This also explained the singular de 
 meanor of the man when found, and his refusal to take 
 medicine or nourishment. He had selected a long way 
 to accomplish his purpose,but had reached the end at last. 
 
 The confused material had now taken shape ; the dead 
 man, despite his will, had confessed to me his name and 
 the chief events of his life. It now remained looking at 
 each event as the result of a long chain of causes to 
 deduce from them the elements of his individual charac 
 ter, and then fill up the inevitable gaps in the story from 
 the probabilities of the operation of those elements. This 
 was not so much a mere venture as the reader may sup 
 pose, because the two actions of the mind test each other. 
 If they cannot, thus working towards a point and back 
 again, actually discover what was, they may at least fix 
 upon a very probable might have been. 
 
 A person accustomed to detective work would have 
 obtained my little stock of facts with much less trouble, 
 and would, almost instinctively, have filled the blanks as 
 he went along. Being an apprentice in such matters. I 
 had handled the materials awkwardly. I will not here 
 retrace my own mental zigzags between character and 
 act, but simply repeat the story as I finally settled and 
 accepted it 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF t 1 59 
 
 Otto Lindenschmidt was the child of poor parents in 
 or near Breslau. His father died when he was young ; 
 his mother earned a scanty subsistence as a washerwom 
 an his sister went into service. Being a bright, hand 
 some boy, he attracted the attention of a Baron von He- 
 risau, an old, childless, eccentric gentleman, who took him 
 first as page or attendant, intending to make him a su 
 perior valet de chambre. Gradually, however, the Baron 
 fancied that he detected in the boy a capacity for better 
 things j his condescending feeling of protection had grown 
 into an attachment for the handsome, amiable, grateful 
 young fellow, and he placed him in the gymnasium at 
 Breslau, perhaps with the idea, now, of educating him to 
 be an intelligent companion. 
 
 The boy and his humble relatives, dazzled by this op 
 portunity, began secretly to consider the favor as almost 
 equivalent to his adoption as a son. (The Baron had 
 once been married, but his wife and only child had long 
 been dead.) The old man, of course, came to look upon 
 the growing intelligence of the youth as his own work : 
 vanity and affection became inextricably blended in his 
 heart, and when the cursus was over, he took him home 
 as the companion of his lonely life. After two or three 
 years, during which the young man was acquiring habits 
 of idleness and indulgence, supposing his future secuie, 
 the Baron died, perhaps too suddenly to make full 
 provision for him, perhaps after having kept up the ap 
 pearance of wealth on a life-annuity, but, in any case, 
 leaving very little, if any, property to Otto. In his dis- 
 
160 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 appointment, the latter retained certain family papers 
 which the Baron had intrusted to his keeping. The ring 
 was a gift, and he wore it in remembrance of hi* bene 
 factor. 
 
 Wandering about, Micawber-like, in hopes that some 
 thing might turn up, he reached Posen, and there either 
 met or heard of the Polish Count, Ladislas Kasincsky, 
 who was seeking a tutor for his only son. His accom 
 plishments, and perhaps, also, a certain aristocratic grace 
 of manner unconsciously caught from the Baron von 
 Herisau, speedily won for him the favor of the Count and 
 Countess Kasincsky, and emboldened him to hope for 
 
 the hand of the Countess sister, Helmine , to whom 
 
 he was no doubt sincerely attached. Here Johann Helm, 
 or " Jean," a confidential servant of the Count, who looked 
 upon the new tutor as a rival, yet adroitly flattered his 
 vanity for the purpose of misleading and displacing him, 
 appears upon the stage. " Jean " first detected Otto s 
 passion ; " Jean," at an epicurean dinner, wormed out of 
 Otto the secret of the Herisau documents, and perhaps 
 suggested the part which the latter afterwards played. 
 
 This " Jean " seemed to me to have been the evil 
 agency in the miserable history which followed. After 
 Helmine s rejection of Otto s suit, and the flight or cap 
 tivity of Count Kasincsky, leaving a large sum of- money 
 in Otto s hands, it would be easy for " Jean," by mingled 
 persuasions and threats, to move the latter to flight, after 
 dividing the money still remaining in his hands. After 
 the theft, and the partition, which took place beyond the 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? l6l 
 
 Polish frontier, " Jean " in turn, stole his accomplice s 
 share, together with the Von Herisau documents. 
 
 Exile and a year s experience of organized mendican 
 cy did the rest. Otto Lindenschmidt was one of those 
 natures which possess no moral elasticity which have 
 neither the power nor the comprehension of atonement 
 The first real, unmitigated guilt whether great or small 
 breaks them down hopelessly. He expected no chance 
 of self-redemption, and he found none. His life in Amer 
 ica was so utterly dark and hopeless that the brightest 
 moment in it must have been that which showed him the 
 approach of death. 
 
 My task was done. I had tracked this weak, vain, 
 erring, hunted soul to its last refuge, and the knowledge 
 Bequeathed to me but a single duty. His sins were bal 
 anced by his temptations ; his vanity and weakness had 
 revenged themselves; and there only remained to tell 
 the simple, faithful sister that her sacrifices were no longer 
 required. I burned the evidences of guilt, despair and 
 suicide, and sent the other papers, with a letter relating 
 the time and circumstances of Otto Lindenschmidt s 
 death, to the civil authorities of Breslau, requesting that 
 they might be placed in the hands of his sister Elise. 
 
 This, I supposed, was the end of the history, so far as 
 my connection with it was concerned. But one cannot 
 track a secret with impunity ; the fatality connected with 
 the act and the actor clings even to the knowledge of the 
 act I had opened my door a little, in order to look out 
 upon the life of another, but in doing so a ghost had en- 
 
1 62 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 tered in, and was not to be dislodged until 1 had done its 
 service. 
 
 In the summer of 1867 I was in Germany, and during 
 a brief journey of idlesse and enjoyment came to the 
 lovely little watering-place of Liebenstein, on the southern 
 slope of the Thuringian Forest. I had no expectation or 
 even desire of making new acquaintances among the gay 
 company who took their afternoon coffee under the noble 
 linden trees on the terrace ; but, within the first hour of 
 my after-dinner leisure, I was greeted by an old friend, 
 an author, from Coburg, and carried away, in my own de 
 spite, to a group of his associates. My friend and his 
 friends had already been at the place a fortnight, and knew 
 the very tint and texture of its gossip. While I sipped 
 nay coffee, I listened to them with one ear, and to Wag 
 ner s overture to " Lohengrin " with the other ; and I 
 should soon have been wholly occupied with the fine or 
 chestra had I not been caught and startled by an unex 
 pected name. 
 
 " Have you noticed," some one asked, " how much at 
 tention the Baron von Herisau is paying her ? " 
 
 I whirled round and exclaimed, in a breath, " The 
 Baron von Herisau ! " 
 
 " Yes," said my friend ; " do you know him ? " 
 
 I was glad that three crashing, tremendous chords 
 came from the orchestra just then, giving me time to col- 
 ect myself before I replied : " I am not sure whether it 
 is the same person : I knew a Baron von Herisau long 
 ago how old is the gentleman here ? " 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 163 
 
 " About thirty-five, I should think, my friend an 
 swered. 
 
 " Ah, then it can t be the same person," said I : " still 
 if he should happen to pass near us, will you point him 
 out to me ? " 
 
 It was an hour later, and we were all hotly discussing 
 the question of Lessing s obligations to English literature, 
 when one of the gentlemen at the table said: "There 
 goes the Baron von Herisau : is it perhaps your friend, 
 sir ? " 
 
 I turned and saw a tall man, with prominent nose, 
 opaque black eyes, and black mustache, walking beside 
 a pretty, insipid girl. Behind the pair went an elderly 
 couple, overdressed and snobbish in appearance. A car 
 riage, with servants in livery, waited in the open space 
 below the terrace, and having received the two couples, 
 whirled swiftly away towards Altenstein. 
 
 Had I been more of a philosopher I should have 
 wasted no second thought on the Baron von Herisau. 
 But the Nemesis of the knowledge which I had throttled 
 poor Otto Lindenschmidt s ghost to obtain had come 
 upon me at last, and there was no rest for me until I had 
 discovered who and what was the Baron. The list of 
 guests which the landlord gave me whetted my curiosity 
 to a painful degree ; for on it I found the entry : " Aug. 
 15 Otto v. Herisau, Rentier, East Prussia." 
 
 It was quite dark when the carriage returned. I 
 watched the company into the supper-room, and then, 
 whisking in behind them, secured a place at ihe nearest 
 
164 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 table. I had an hour of quiet, stealthy observation before 
 my Coburg friend discovered me, and by that time I was 
 glad of his company and had need of his confidence. 
 But, before making use of him in the second capacity, I 
 desired to make the acquaintance of the adjoining partu 
 carr ee. He had bowed to them familiarly in passing, and 
 when the old gentleman said, " Will you not join us, Herr 
 
 ? " I answered my friend s interrogative glance with 
 
 a decided affirmative, and we moved to the other table. 
 
 My seat was beside the Baron von Herisau, with whom 
 I exchanged the usual commonplaces after an introduction. 
 His manner was cold and taciturn, I thought, and there 
 was something forced in the smile which accompanied his 
 replies to the remarks of the coarse old lady, who con 
 tinually referred to the " Herr Baron " as authority upon 
 every possible subject. I noticed , however, that he cast 
 a sudden, sharp glance at me, when I was presented to 
 the company as an American. 
 
 The man s neighborhood disturbed me. I was obliged 
 to let the conversation run in the channels already se 
 lected, and stupid enough I found them. I was consider 
 ing whether I should not give a signal to my friend and 
 withdraw, when the Baron stretched his hand across the 
 table for a bottle of Affenthaler, and I caught sight of a 
 massive gold ring on his middle finger. Instantly I re 
 membered the ring which " B. v. H." had given to Otto 
 Lindenschmidt, and I said to myself, " That is it ! The 
 inference followed like lightning that it was "Johann 
 Helm " who sat beside me, and not a Baron von Herisau ) 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 165 
 
 That evening my friend and I had a long, absorbing 
 conversation in my room. I told him the whole story, 
 which came back vividly to memory, and learned, in re 
 turn, that the reputed Baron was supposed to be wealthy, 
 that the old gentleman was a Bremen merchant or banker, 
 known to be rich, that neither was considered by thost 
 who had met them to be particularly intelligent or refined, 
 and that the wooing of the daughter had already become 
 so marked as to be a general subject of gossip. My 
 friend was inclined to think my conjecture correct, and 
 willingly co-operated with me in a plan to test the matter. 
 We had no considerable sympathy with the snobbish par 
 ents, whose servility to a title was so apparent ; but the 
 daughter seemed to be an innocent and amiable creature, 
 however silly, and we determined to spare her the shame 
 of an open scandal. 
 
 If our scheme should seem a little melodramatic, it 
 must not be forgotten that my friend was an author. The 
 next morning, as the Baron came up the terrace after his 
 visit to the spring, I stepped forward and greeted him po 
 litely, after which I said : " I see by the strangers list that 
 you are from East Prussia, Baron ; have you ever been in 
 Poland ? " At that moment, a voice behind him called 
 out rather sharply, " Jean ! " The Baron started, turned 
 round and then back to me, and all his art could not pre 
 vent the blood from rushing to his face. I made, as if by 
 accident, a gesture with my hand, indicating success, and 
 went a step further. 
 
 " Because/ said I, " I am thinking of making a visit 
 
1 66 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 to Cracow and Warsaw, and should be glad of any infor 
 mation " 
 
 "Certainly!" he interrupted me, "and I should bfl 
 very glad to give it, if I had ever visited Poland." 
 
 "At least," I continued, "you can advise me upon 
 one point ; but excuse me, shall we not sit down a mo 
 ment yonder? As my question relates to money, I should 
 not wish to be overheard." 
 
 I pointed out a retired spot, just before reaching 
 which we were joined by my friend, who suddenly stepped 
 t ut from behind a clump of lilacs. The Baron and he 
 saluted each other. 
 
 " Now," said I to the former, " I can ask your advice, 
 Mr. Johann Helm ! " 
 
 He was not an adept, after all. His astonishment 
 and confusion were brief, to be sure, but they betrayed 
 him so completely that his after-impulse to assume a 
 ! aughty, offensive air only made us smile. 
 
 " If I had a message to you from Otto Lindenschmidt, 
 what then ? " I asked. 
 
 He turned pale, and presently stammered out, " He 
 he is dead ! " 
 
 "Now," said my friend, " it. is quite time to drop the 
 mask before us. You see we know you, and we know 
 your history. Not from Otto Lindenschmidt alone ; 
 Count Ladislas Kasincsky " 
 
 " What ! Has he come back from Siberia ? " exclaim 
 ed Johann Helm. His face expressed abject terror; 
 1 think he would have fallen upon his knees before 
 
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF? 1 67 
 
 us if he had not somehow felt, by a rascal s instinct, 
 that we had no personal wrongs to redress in unmasking 
 him. 
 
 Our object, however, was to ascertain through him the 
 complete facts of Otto Linden Schmidt s history, and then 
 to banish him from Liebenstein. We allowed him to 
 suppose for awhile that we were acting under the author 
 ity of persons concerned, in order to make the best possi 
 ble use of his demoralized mood, for we knew it would 
 not last long. 
 
 My guesses were very nearly correct. Otto Linden- 
 schmidt had been educated by an old Baron, Bernhard 
 von Herisau, on account of his resemblance in person to 
 a dead son, whose name had also been Otto. He could 
 not have adopted the plebeian youth, at least to the ex 
 tent of giving him an old and haughty name, but this the 
 latter nevertheless expected, up to the time of the Baron s 
 death. He had inherited a little property from his bene 
 factor, but soon ran through it. " He was a light-headed 
 fellow," said Johann He)m, " but he knew how to get the 
 confidence of the old Junkers. If he hadn t been so 
 cowardly and fidgety, he might have made himself a 
 career." 
 
 The Polish episode differed so little from my inter 
 pretation that I need not repeat Helm s version. He 
 denied having stolen Otto s share of the money, but could 
 not help admitting his possession of the Von Herisau 
 papers, among which were the certificates of birth and 
 baptism of the old Baron s son, Otto. It seems that he 
 
1 68 TALKS OF HOME. 
 
 had been fearful of Lindenschmidt s return from America, 
 for he managed to communicate with his sister in Breslau, 
 and in this way learned the former s death. Not until 
 then had he dared to assume his present disguise. 
 
 We let him go, after exacting a solemn pledge that he 
 would betake himself at once to Hamburg, and there 
 ship for Australia. (I judged that America was already am 
 ply supplied with individuals of his class.) The sudden de 
 parture of the Baron von Herisau was a two days wonder 
 at Liebenstein ; but besides ourselves, only the Bremen 
 banker knew the secret. He also left, two days after 
 wards, with his wife and daughter their cases, it was re 
 ported, requiring Kissingen. 
 
 Otto Lindenschmidt s life, therefore, could not hide 
 itself. Can any life ? 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 
 
 . HEN John Vincent, after wait 
 ing twelve years, married Phebe 
 Etheridge, the whole neighbor- 
 hood experienced that sense of 
 relief and satisfaction which fol 
 lows the triumph of the right. 
 
 Not fb.at the fact of a true love is ever generally recog 
 nized u.nd respected when it is first discovered ; for 
 there is a perverse quality in American human nature 
 which will not accept the existence of any tine, un 
 selfish passion, until it has been tested and established 
 beyond peradventure. There were two views of the case 
 when John Vincent s love for Phebe, and old Reuben 
 Etheridge s hard prohibition of the match, first became 
 known to the community. The girls and boys, and some 
 of the matrons, ranged themselves at once on the side of 
 Ihe lovers, but a large majority of the older men and a 
 fnw of the younger supported the tyrannical father. 
 
 Reuben Etheridge was rich, and, in addition to what 
 his daughter would naturally inherit from him, she already 
 possessed more than her lover, at the time of their be- 
 8 
 
1 70 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 trothal. This in the eyes of one class was a sufficient rea 
 son for the father s hostility. When low natures live (as they 
 almost invariably do) wholly in the present, they neither 
 take tenderness from the past nor warning from the poS 
 sibilities of the future. It is the exceptional men and 
 women who remember their youth. So, these lovers re 
 ceived a nearly equal amount of sympathy and condem 
 nation; and only slowly, partly through their quiet fidel 
 ity and patience, and partly through the improvement in 
 John Vincent s worldly circumstances, was the balance 
 changed. Old Reuben remained an unflinching despot 
 to the last : if any relenting softness touched his heart, he 
 sternly concealed it ; and such inference as could be 
 drawn from the fact that he, certainly knowing what would 
 follow his death, bequeathed his daughter her proper 
 share of his goods, was all that could be taken for consent. 
 They were married : John, a grave man in middle 
 age, weather-beaten and worn by years of hard work and 
 self-denial, yet not beyond the restoration of a milder 
 second youth ; and Phebe a sad, weary woman, whose 
 warmth of longing had been exhausted, from whom youth 
 and its uncalculating surrenders of hope and feeling had 
 gone forever. They began their wedded life under the 
 shadow of the death out of which it grew ; and when, 
 after a ceremony in which neither bridesmaid nor grooms 
 man stood by their side, they united their divided homos, 
 it seemed to their neighbors that a separated husband and 
 wife had come together again, not that the relation wag 
 new to either. 
 
TWIN-LOVE. I/! 
 
 John Vincent loved his wife with the tenderness of an 
 innocent man, but all his tenderness could not avail to 
 lift the weight of settled melancholy which had gathered 
 upon her. Disappointment, waiting, yearning, indulgence 
 in long lament and self-pity, the morbid cultivation of un 
 happy fancies all this had wrought its work upon her, 
 and it was too late to effect a cure. In the night she 
 awoke to weep at his side, because of the years when she 
 had awakened to weep alone ; by day she kept up her old 
 habit of foreboding, although the evening steadily refuted 
 the morning ; and there were times when, without any 
 apparent cause, she would fall into a dark, despairing mood 
 which her husband s greatest care and cunning could only 
 ilowly dispel. 
 
 Two or three years passed, and new life came to the 
 Vincent farm. One day, between midnight and dawn, the 
 family pair was doubled j the cry of twin sons was heard 
 in the hushed house. The father restrained his happy 
 wonder in his concern for the imperilled life of the moth 
 er ; he guessed that she had anticipated death, and she 
 now hung by a thread so slight that her simple will might 
 snap it. But her will, fortunately, was as faint as her con 
 sciousness; she gradually drifted out of danger, taking 
 her returning strength with a passive acquiescence rather 
 than with joy. She was hardly paler than her wont, but 
 the lurking shadow seemed to have vanished from her 
 eyes, and John Vincent felt that her features had assumed 
 a new expression, the faintly perceptible stamp of some 
 spiritual change. 
 
1 72 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 It was a happy day for him when, propped againsi 
 his breast and gently held by his warm, strong arm, the 
 twin boys were first brought to be laid upon her lap 
 Two staring, dark-faced creatures, with restless fists and 
 feet, they were alike in every least feature of their grotes 
 que animality. Phebe placed a hand under the head oi 
 each, and looked at them for a long time in silence. 
 
 " Why is this ? " she said, at last, taking hold of a 
 narrow pink ribbon, which was tied around the wrist of 
 one. 
 
 " He s the oldest, sure," the nurse answered. " Only 
 by fifteen minutes or so, but it generally makes a differ 
 ence when twins come to be named ; and you may see 
 with your own eyes that there s no telling of em apart 
 otherways." 
 
 "Take off the ribbon, then," said Phebe quietly; "J 
 know them." 
 
 " Why, ma am, it s always done, where they re so like ! 
 And I ll never be able to tell which is which ; for they 
 sleep and wake and feed by the same clock. And you 
 might mistake, after all, in giving em names 
 
 " There is no oldest or youngest, John ; they are two 
 and yet one this is mine, and this is yours." 
 
 " I see no difference at all, Phebe," said John ; " and 
 how can we divide them ? " 
 
 " We will not divide," she answered j " I only meant 
 it as a sign." 
 
 She smiled, for the first time in many days. He was 
 glad of heart, but did not understand her. " What shaU 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 173 
 
 we call them ? " he asked. " Elias and Reuben, after our 
 fathers?" 
 
 "No, John; their names must be David and Jona 
 than." 
 
 And so they were called. And they grew, not less, 
 but more alike, in passing through the stages of baby 
 hood. The ribbon of the older one had been removed, 
 and the nurse would have been distracted, but for Phebe s 
 almost miraculous instinct. The former comforted her 
 self with the hope that teething would bring a variation to 
 the two identical mouths; but no! they teethed as one 
 child. John, after desperate attempts, which always 
 failed in spite of the headaches they gave him, postponed 
 the idea of distinguishing one from the other, until they 
 should be old enough to develop some dissimilarity of 
 speech, or gait, or habit. All trouble might have been 
 avoided, had Phebe consented to the least variation in 
 their dresses ; but herein she was mildly immovable. 
 
 " Not yet," was her set reply to her husband ; and one 
 day, when he manifested a little annoyance at her persist 
 ence, she turned to him, holding a child on each knee, and 
 said with a gravity which silenced him thenceforth : 
 " John, can you not see that our burden has passed into 
 them ? Is there no meaning in this that two children 
 who are one in body and face and nature, should be given 
 to us at our time of life, after such long disappointment 
 and trouble ? Our lives were held apart ; theirs were uni 
 ted before they were born, and I dare not turn them in 
 different directions. Perhaps I do not know all that the 
 
174 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Lord intended to say to us, in sending them ; but His hand 
 is here ! " 
 
 " I was only thinking of their good," John meekly an 
 swered. " If they are spared to grow up, there must be 
 some way of knowing one from the other." 
 
 " They will not need it, and I, too, think only of them. 
 They have taken the cross from my heart, and I will lay 
 none on theirs. I am reconciled to my life through them, 
 John ; you have been very patient and good with me, and 
 I will yield to you in all things but in this. I do not think 
 I shall live to see them as men grown ; yet, while we are 
 together, I feel clearly what it is right to do. Can you 
 not, just for once, have a little faith without knowledge, 
 John?" 
 
 " I ll try, Phebe," he said. " Any way, I ll grant that 
 the boys belong to you more than to me." 
 
 Phebe Vincent s character had verily changed. Her 
 attacks of semi-hysterical despondency never returned ; 
 her gloomy prophecies ceased. She was still grave, and 
 the trouble of so many years never wholly vanished from 
 her face ; but she performed every duty of her life with at 
 least a quiet willingness, and her home became the abode 
 of peace ; for passive content wears longer than demon 
 strative happiness. 
 
 David and Jonathan grew as one boy : the taste and 
 temper of one was repeated in the other, even as the voice 
 and features. Sleeping or waking, grieved or joyous, well 
 or ill, they lived a single life, and it seemed so natural for 
 one to answer to the other s name, that they probably 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 175 
 
 would have themselves confused their own identities, bu 
 for their mother s unerring knowledge. Perhaps uncon 
 sciously guided by her, perhaps through the voluntary ac 
 tion of their own natures, each quietly took the other s 
 place when called upon, even to the sharing of praise or 
 blame at school, the friendships and quarrels of the play 
 ground. They were healthy and happy lads, and John 
 Vincent was accustomed to say to his neighbors, " They re 
 no more trouble than one would be ; and yet they re four 
 hands instead of two." 
 
 Phebe died when they were fourteen, saying to them, 
 with almost her latest breath, " Be one, always ! " Before 
 her husband could decide whether to change her plan of 
 domestic education, they were passing out of boyhood, 
 changing in voice, stature, and character with a continued 
 likeness which bewildered and almost terrified him. He 
 procured garments of different colors, but they were ac 
 customed to wear each article in common, and the result 
 was only a mixture of tints for both. They were sent to 
 different schools, to be returned the next day, equally pale, 
 suffering, and incapable of study. Whatever device was 
 employed, they evaded it by a mutual instinct which ren 
 dered all external measures unavailing. To John Vin 
 cent s mind their resemblance was an accidental misfor 
 tune, which had been confirmed through their mother s 
 fancy. He felt that they were bound by some deep, mys 
 terious tie, which, inasmuch as it might interfere with all 
 practical aspects of life, ought to be gradually weakened. 
 Two bodies, to him, implied two distinct men, and it was 
 
r/6 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 wrong to permit a mutual dependence which prevented 
 either from exercising his own separate will and judgment 
 
 But, while he was planning and pondering, the boys 
 became young men, and he was an old man. Old, and 
 prematurely broken ; for he had worked much, borne 
 much, and his large frame held only a moderate measure 
 of vital force. A great weariness fell upon him, and his 
 powers began to give way, at first slowly, but then with ac 
 celerated failure. He saw the end coming, long before 
 his sons suspected it ; his doubt, for their sakes, was the 
 only thing which made it unwelcome. It was " upon his 
 mind " (as his Quaker neighbors would say) to speak to 
 them of the future r and at last the proper moment came. 
 
 It was a stormy November evening. Wind and rain 
 whirled and drove among the trees outside, but the sitting- 
 room of the old farm-house was bright and warm. Da 
 vid and Jonathan, at the table, with their arms over each 
 other s backs and their brown locks mixed together, read 
 from the same book : their father sat in the ancient rock 
 ing-chair before the fire, with his feet upon a stool. The 
 housekeeper and hired man had gone to bed, and all was 
 still in the house. 
 
 John waited until he heard the volume closed, and then 
 spoke. 
 
 " Boys," he said, " let me have a bit of talk with you 
 
 don t seem to get over my ailments rightly, never will 
 
 maybe. A man must think of things while there s time 
 
 and say them when they have to be said. I don t know as 
 
 there s any particular hurry in my case ; only, we never 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 17; 
 
 can tell, from one day to another. When I die, ever) 
 thing will belong to you two, share and share alike, eithei 
 to buy another farm with the money out, or divide this : I 
 won t tie you up in any way. But two of you will need 
 two farms for two families ; for you won t have to wait 
 twelve years, like your mother and me." 
 
 " We don t want another farm, father ! " said David 
 and Jonathan together. 
 
 " I know you don t think so, now. A wife seemed far 
 enough off from me when I was your age. You ve always 
 been satisfied to be with each other, but that can t last 
 It was partly your mother s notion ; I remember her say 
 ing that our burden had passed into you. I never quite 
 understood what she meant, but I suppose it must rather 
 be the opposite of what we had to bear." 
 
 The twins listened with breathless attention while their 
 father, suddenly stirred by the past, told them the story of 
 his long betrothal. 
 
 "And now," he exclaimed, in conclusion, "it may be 
 putting wild ideas into your two heads, but I must say it ! 
 That was where I did wrong wrong to her and to me, 
 in waiting ! I had no right to spoil the best of our lives ; 
 I ought to have gone boldly, in bi oad day, to her father s 
 house, taken her by the hand, and led her forth to be my 
 wife. Boys, if either of you comes to love a woman truly, 
 and she to love you, and there is no reason why God ( I 
 don t say man) should put you asunder, do as I ought tc 
 have done, not as I did ! And, maybe, this advice is the 
 best legacy I can leave you." 
 8* 
 
t;8 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " But, father," said David, speaking for both, u w* 
 have never thought of marrying." 
 
 " Likely enough," their father answered ; " we hardly 
 ever think of what surely comes. But to me, looking 
 back, it s plain. And this is the reason why I want you 
 to make me a promise, and as solemn as if I was on my 
 death-bed. Maybe I shall be, soon." 
 
 Tears gathered in the eyes of the twins. " What is i* 
 father ? " they both said. 
 
 " Nothing at all to any other two boys, but I don t 
 know how you ll take it. What if I was to ask you to live 
 apart for a while ? " 
 
 " Oh father ! " both cried. They leaned together, cheek 
 pressing cheek, and hand clasping hand, growing white 
 and trembling. John Vincent, gazing into the fire, did 
 not see their faces, or his purpose might have been shaken. 
 
 " I don t say now" he went on. " After a while, when 
 well, when I m dead. And I only mean a beginning, to 
 help you toward what has to be. Only a month ; I don t 
 want to seem hard to you ; but that s little, in all con 
 science. Give me your word : say, For mother s sake ! " 
 
 There was a long pause. Then David and Jonathan 
 said, in low, faltering voices, " For mother s sake, I prom 
 ise." 
 
 " Remember that you were only boys to her. She 
 might have made all this seem easier, for women have rea 
 sons for things no man can answer. Mind, within a yeal 
 after I m gone ! " 
 
 He rose and tottered out of the room. 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 1 79 
 
 The twins looked at each other. David said, " Must 
 we ? " and Jonathan, " How can we ? " Then they both 
 thought, " It may be a long while yet." Here was a pres 
 ent comfort, and each seemed to hold it firmly in holding 
 the hand of the other, as they fell asleep side by side. 
 
 The trial was nearer than they imagined. Their father 
 died before the winter was over ; the farm and other 
 property was theirs, and they might have allowed life to 
 solve its mysteries as it rolled onwards, but for their prom 
 ise to the dead. This must be fulfilled, and then one 
 thing was certain ; they would never again separate. 
 
 " The sooner the better," said David. " It shall be 
 the visit to our uncle and cousins in Indiana. You will 
 come with me as far as Harrisburg ; it may be easier to 
 part there than here. And our new neighbors, the Brad- 
 leys, will want your help for a day or two, after getting 
 home." 
 
 " It is less than death," Jonathan answered, " and 
 why should it seem to be more? We must think of 
 father and mother, and all those twelve years ; now I 
 know what the burden was." 
 
 "And we have never really borne any part of it. 
 Father must have been right in forcing us to promise." 
 
 Every day the discussion was resumed, and always 
 with the same termination. Familiarity with the inevita 
 ble step gave them increase of courage ; yet, when the 
 moment had come and gone, when, speeding on opposite 
 trains, the hills and valleys multiplied between them with 
 terrible velocity, a pang like death cut to the heart of each, 
 and the divided life became a chill, oppressive dream. 
 
ISO TALES OF HOME. 
 
 During the separation no letters passed between them 
 When the neighbors asked Jonathan for news of his broth 
 er, he always replied, " He is well/ and avoided furthei 
 speech with such evidence of pain that they spared him. 
 An hour before the month drew to an end, he walked 
 forth alone, taking the road to the nearest railway station. 
 A stranger who passed him at the entrance of a thick 
 tvood, three miles from home, was thunderstruck on meet 
 ing the same person shortly after, entering the wood from 
 the other side ; but the farmers in the near fields saw two 
 figures issuing from the shade, hand in hand. 
 
 Each knew the other s month, before they slept, and 
 the last thing Jonathan said, with his head on David s 
 shoulder, was, " You must know our neighbors, the Brad- 
 leys, and especially Ruth." In the morning, as they 
 dressed, taking each other s garments at random, as of old, 
 Jonathan again said, " I have never seen a girl that I like 
 so well as Ruth Bradley. Do you remember what father 
 said about loving and marrying ? It comes into my mind 
 whenever I see Ruth ; but she has no sister." 
 
 " But we need not both marry," David replied, "that 
 might part us, and this will not. It is for always now." 
 
 u For always, David" 
 
 Two or three days later Jonathan said, as he started 
 on an errand to the village : " I shall stop at the Bradleys 
 this evening, so you must walk across and meet me there. 
 
 When David approached the house, a slender, girlish 
 figure, with her back towards him, was stooping over a 
 bush of great crimson roses, cautiously clipping a blossom 
 
TWIN-LOVE. l8l 
 
 here and there. At the click of the gate-latch she started 
 and turned towards him. Her light gingham bonnet, fall 
 ing back, disclosed a long oval face, fair and delicate, 
 sweet brown eyes, and brown hair laid smoothly over the 
 temples. A soft flush rose suddenly to her cheeks, and he 
 felt that his own were burning. 
 
 " Oh Jonathan ! " she exclaimed, transferring the roseg 
 to her left hand, and extending her right, as she came for 
 ward. 
 
 He was too accustomed to the name to recognize her 
 mistake at once, and the word " Ruth ! " came naturally 
 to his lips. 
 
 " I should know your brother David has come," she 
 then said ; " even if I had not heard so. You look sc 
 bright. How glad I am ! " 
 
 " Is he not here ? " David asked. 
 
 " No ; but there he is now, surely ! " She turned to 
 wards the lane, where Jonathan was dismounting. " Why. 
 it is yourself over again, Jonathan ! " 
 
 As they approached, a glance passed between the 
 twins, and a secret transfer of the riding-whip to David 
 set their identity right with Rdtb, whose manner toward 
 the latter innocently became shy with all its friendliness, 
 while her frank, familiar speech \* as given to Jonathan, as 
 was fitting. But David also took the latter to himself, and 
 when they left, Ruth had apparently forgotten that there 
 was any difference in the length of the.Jr acquaintance. 
 
 On their way homewards David said . " ^ar nei was 
 right. We must marry, like others,, an^ R*uh ^ tl:e wife 
 
1 82 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 for us, I mean for you, Jonathan. Yes, we must learn to 
 say mine audyvurs, after all, when we speak of her." 
 
 " Even she cannot separate us, it seems," Jonathan 
 answered. " We must give her some sign, and that wiU 
 also be a sign for others. It will seem strange to divide 
 ourselves ; we can never learn it properly ; rather let us 
 not think of marriage." 
 
 " We cannot help thinking of it ; she stands in moth 
 er s place now, as we in father s." 
 
 Then both became silent and thoughtful. They felt 
 that something threatened to disturb what seemed to be 
 the only possible life for them, yet were unable to distin 
 guish its features, and therefore powerless to resist it. The 
 same instinct which had been born of their wonderful 
 spiritual likeness told them that Ruth Bradley already 
 loved Jonathan : the duty was established, and they must 
 conform their lives to it. There was, however, this slight 
 difference between their natures that David was gener 
 ally the first to utter the thought which came to the minds 
 of both. So when he said, " We shall learn what to do 
 when the need comes," it was a postponement of all fore 
 boding. They drifted contentedly towards the coming 
 change. 
 
 The days went by, and their visits to Ruth Bradley 
 were continued. Sometimes Jonathan went alone, but 
 they were usually together, and the tie which united the 
 three became dearer and sweeter as it was more closely 
 drawn. Ruth learned to distinguish between the two when 
 they were before her : at least she said so, and they were 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 183 
 
 willing to believe it. But she was hardly aware how nearly 
 alike was the happy warmth in her bosom produced by 
 either pair of dark gray eyes and the soft half- smile which 
 played around either mouth. To them she seemed to be 
 drawn within the mystic circle which separated them from 
 others she, alone ; and they no longer imagined a life in 
 which she should not share. 
 
 Then the inevitable step was taken. Jonathan de 
 clared his love, and was answered. Alas ! he almost for 
 got David that late summer evening, as they sat in the 
 moonlight, and over and over again assured each other 
 how dear they had grown. He felt the trouble in David s 
 heart when they met. 
 
 " Ruth is ours, and I bring her kiss to you." he said, 
 pressing his lips to David s ; but the arms flung around 
 him trembled, and David whispered, " Now the change 
 begins." 
 
 " Oh, this cannot be our burden ! " Jonathan cried, 
 with all the rapture still warm in his heart. 
 
 " If it is, it will be light, or heavy, or none at all, as 
 we shall bear it," David answered, with a smile of infin 
 ite tenderness. 
 
 For several days he allowed Jonathan to visit the 
 Biadley farm alone, saying that it must be so on Ruth s 
 account. Her love, he declared, must give her the fine 
 instinct which only their mother had ever possessed, and 
 he must allow it time to be confirmed. Jonathan, how 
 ever, insisted that Ruth already possessed it ; that she was 
 beginning to wonder at his absence, and to fear that she 
 
184 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 would not be entirely welcome to the home which must 
 always be equally his. 
 
 David yielded at once. 
 
 " You must go alone," said Jonathan, " to satisfy 
 yourself that she knows us at last." 
 
 Ruth came forth from the house as he drew near. 
 Her face beamed ; she laid her hands upon his shoulders 
 and kissed him. " Now you cannot doubt me, Ruth ! " 
 he said, gently. 
 
 " Doubt you, Jonathan ! " she exclaimed with a fond 
 reproach in her eyes. " But you look troubled ; is any 
 thing the matter ? " 
 
 " I was thinking of my brother," said David, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " Tell me what it is," she said, drawing him into the 
 little arbor of woodbine near the gate. They took seats 
 side by side on the rustic bench. " He thinks I may 
 come between you : is it not that ? " she asked. Only 
 one thing was clear to David s mind that she would 
 surely speak more frankly and freely of him to the sup 
 posed Jonathan than to his real self. This once he 
 would permit the illusion. 
 
 " Not more than must be," he answered. " He knew 
 all from the very beginning. But we have been like one 
 person in two bodies, and any change seems to divide 
 us." 
 
 " I feel as you do," said Ruth. "I would never con 
 sent to be your wife, if I could really divide you. I love 
 you both too well for that." 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 185 
 
 * Do you love me ? " he asked, entirely forgetting his 
 representative part. 
 
 Again the reproachful look, which faded away as she 
 met his eyes. She fell upon his breast, and gave him 
 kisses which were answered with equal tenderness. Sud 
 denly he covered his face with his hands, and burst into 
 a passion of tears. 
 
 " Jonathan ! Oh Jonathan ! " she cried, weeping with 
 alarm and sympathetic pain. 
 
 It was long before he could speak ; but at last, turn 
 ing away his head, he faltered, " I am David ! " 
 
 There was a long silence. 
 
 When he looked up she was sitting with her hands 
 rigidly clasped in her lap : her face was very pale. 
 
 "There it is, Ruth " he said ; "we are one heart and 
 one soul. Could he love, and not I ? You cannot decide 
 between us, for one is the other. If I had known you 
 first, Jonathan would be now in my place. What fol 
 lows, then ? " 
 
 " No marriage," she whispered. 
 
 " No ! " he answered ; " we brothers must learn to be 
 two men instead of one. You will partly take my place 
 with Jonathan j I must live with half my life, unless I 
 can find, somewhere in the world, your other half." 
 
 " I cannot part you, David ! " 
 
 " Something stronger than you or me parts us, Ruth. 
 If it were death, we should bow to God s will : well, it 
 can no more be got away from than death or judgment. 
 Say no more : the pattern of all this was drawn long be 
 
1 86 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 fore we were born, and we cannot do any thing but work 
 it out." 
 
 He rose and stood before her. " Remember this, 
 Ruth," he said; "it is no blame in us to love each other. 
 Jonathan will see the truth in my face when we meet, 
 and I speak for him also. You will not see me again un 
 til your wedding-day, and then no more afterwards but, 
 yes ! once, in some far-off time, when you shall know me 
 to be David, and still give me the kiss you gave to-day." 
 
 " Ah, after death ! " she thought : " I have parted 
 them forever." She was about to rise, but fell upon the 
 seat again, fainting. At the same moment Jonathan ap 
 peared at David s side. 
 
 No word was said. They bore her forth and sup 
 ported her between them until the fresh breeze had re 
 stored her to consciousness. Her first glance rested on 
 the brother s hands, clasping ; then, looking from one to 
 the other, she saw that the cheeks of both were wet. 
 
 " Now, leave me," she said, " but come to-morrow, 
 Jonathan ! " Even then she turned from one to the 
 other, with a painful, touching uncertainty, and stretched 
 out both hands to them in farewell. 
 
 How that poor twin heart struggled with itself is 
 only known to God. All human voices, and as they be 
 lieved, also the Divine Voice, commanded the division of 
 their interwoven life. Submission would have seemed 
 easier, could they have taken up equal and similar bur 
 dens ; but David was unable to deny that his pack was 
 overweighted. For the first time, their thoughts began 
 to diverge. 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 1 8^ 
 
 At last David said : " For mother s sake, Jonathan 
 as we promised. She always called you her child. And 
 for Ruth a sake, and father s last advice . they all tell me 
 what I must do." 
 
 It was like the struggle between will and desire, in 
 the same nature, and none the less fierce or prolonged be 
 cause the softer quality foresaw its ultimate surrender. 
 Long after he felt the step to be inevitable, Jonathan sought 
 to postpone it, but he was borne by all combined influ 
 ences nearer and nearer to the time. 
 
 And now the wedding-day came. David was to leave 
 home the same evening, after the family dinner under his 
 father s roof. In the morning he said to Jonathan : " I 
 shall not write until I feel that I have become other than 
 now, but I shall always be here, in you, as you will be in 
 me, everywhere. Whenever you want me, I shall know 
 it j and I think I shall know when to return. 5 
 
 The hearts of all the people went out towards them as 
 they stood together in the little village church. Both 
 were calm, but very pale and abstracted in their expres 
 sion, yet their marvellous likeness was still unchanged. 
 Ruth s eyes were cast down so they could not be seen ; 
 she trembled visibly, and her voice was scarcely audible 
 when she spoke the vow. It was only known in the 
 neighborhood that David was going to make another jour 
 ney. The truth could hardly have been guessed by per 
 sons whose ideas follow the narrow round of their own 
 experiences ; had ii been, there would probably have been 
 more condemnation than sympathy. But in a vague way 
 
188 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the presence of some deeper element was felt the fall 
 ing of a shadow, although the outstretched wing was un 
 seen. Far above them, and above the shadow, watched 
 the Infinite Pity, which was not denied to three hearts 
 that day. 
 
 It was a long time, more than a year, and Ruth was 
 lulling her first child on her bosom, before a letter came 
 from David. He had wandered westwards, purchased 
 some lands on the outer line of settlement, and appeared 
 to be leading a wild and lonely life. " I know now," he 
 wrote, "just how much there is to bear, and how to bear 
 it. Strange men come between us, but you are not far off 
 when I am alone on these plains. There is a place where 
 I can always meet you, and I know that you have found it, 
 under the big ash-tree by the barn. I think I am nearly 
 always there about sundown, and on moonshiny nights, 
 because we are then nearest together ; and I never sleep 
 without leaving you half my blanket. When I first begin 
 to wake I always feel your breath, so we are never really 
 parted for long. I do not know that I can change much ; 
 it is not easy ; it is like making up your mind to have dif 
 ferent colored eyes and hair, and I can only get sunburnt 
 and wear a full beard. But we are hardly as unhappy as 
 we feared to be ; mother came the other night, in a dream, 
 arid took us on her knees. Oh, come to me, Jonathan, 
 but for one day ! No, you will not find me ; I am going 
 across the Plains ! " 
 
 And Jonathan and Ruth? They loved each other 
 tenderly ; no external trouble visited them ; their home 
 
TWIN-LOVE. l8g 
 
 was peaceful and pure ; and yet, every room and stairway 
 and cha ; r was haunted by a sorrowful ghost. As a 
 neighbor said after visiting them, " There seemed to be 
 something lost." Ruth saw how constantly and how un 
 consciously Jonathan turned to see his own every feeling 
 reflected in the missing eyes ; how his hand sought another, 
 even tthile its fellow pressed hers ; how half-spoken words, 
 day and night, died upon his lips, because they could not 
 reach the twin-ear. She knew not how it came, but her 
 own nature took upon itself the same habit. She felt that 
 she received a less measure of love than she gave not 
 from Jonathan, in whose whole, warm, transparent heart 
 no other woman had ever looked, but something of her 
 own passed beyond him and never returned. To both 
 their life was like one of those conjurer s cups, seemingly 
 filled with red wine, which is held from the lips by the 
 false crystal hollow. 
 
 Neither spoke of this : neither dared to speak. The 
 years dragged out their slow length, with rare and brief 
 messages from David. Three children were in the house, 
 and still peace and plenty laid their signs upon its lintels. 
 But at last Ruth, who had been growing thinner and paler 
 ever since the birth of her first boy, became seriously ill. 
 Consumption was hers by inheritance, and it now mani 
 fested itself in a form which too surely foretold the result. 
 After the physician had gone, leaving his fatal verdict 
 behind him, she called to Jonathan, who, bewildered by 
 his grief, sank down on his knees at her bedside and sob 
 bed upon her breast 
 
19 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Don t grieve," she said ; " this is my share of th 
 burden. If I have taken too much from you and David, 
 now comes the atonement. Many things have growi 
 clear to me. David was right when he said that there 
 was no blame. But my time is even less than the doctor 
 thinks : where is David ? Can you not bid him come ? " 
 
 " I can only call him with my heart," he answered. 
 " And will he hear me now, after nearly seven years ? " 
 
 " Call, then ! " she eagerly cried. " Call with all the 
 strength of your love for him and for me, and I believe 
 he will hear you 1 " 
 
 The sun was just setting. Jonathan went to the great 
 ash-tree, behind the barn, fell upon his knees, and cov 
 ered his face, and the sense of an exceeding bitter cry 
 filled his heart All the suppressed and baffled longing, 
 the want, the hunger, the unremitting pain of years, came 
 upon him and were crowded into the single prayer, 
 " Come, David, or I die 1 " Before the twilight faded, 
 while he was still kneeling, an arm came upon his shoul 
 der, and the faint touch of another cheek upon his own. 
 It was hardly for the space of a thought, but he knew 
 the sign. 
 
 " David will come ! " he said to Ruth. 
 
 From that day all was changed. The cloud of coming 
 death which hung over the house was transmuted into 
 fleecy gold. All the lost life came back to Jonathan s 
 face, all the unrestful sweetness of Ruth s brightened into 
 a serene beatitude. Months had passed since David had 
 been heard from ; they knew not how to reach him with 
 
TWIN-LOVE. 19! 
 
 out many delays; yet neither dreamed of doubting his 
 coming. 
 
 Two weeks passed, three, and there was neither word 
 nor sign. Jonathan and Ruth thought, "He is near," 
 and one day a singular unrest fell upon the former. Ruth 
 saw it, but said nothing until night came, when she sent 
 Jonathan from her bedside with the words, "Go and 
 meet him?" 
 
 An hour afterwards she heard double steps on the 
 stone walk in front of the house. They came slowly to 
 the door ; it opened ; she heard them along the hall and 
 ascending the stairs ; then the chamber-lamp showed her 
 the two faces, bright with a single, unutterable joy. 
 
 One brother paused at the foot of the bed ; the other 
 drew near and bent over her. She clasped her thin 
 hands around his neck, kissed him fondly, and cried, 
 "Dear, dear David!" 
 
 " Dear Ruth," he said, " I came as soon as I could. 
 I was far away, among wild mountains, when I felt that 
 Jonathan was calling me. I knew that I must return, 
 never to leave you more, and there was still a little work 
 to finish. Now we shall all live again ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Jonathan, coming to her other side, " rrj 
 to live, Ruth ! " 
 
 Her voice came clear, strong, and full of authority 
 " I do live, as never before. I shall take all my life with 
 me when I go to wait for one soul, as I shall find it there 
 Our love unites, not divides, from this hour ! " 
 
 The few weeks still left to her were a season of almost 
 
192 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 superhuman peace. She faded slowly and painlessly, 
 taking the equal love of the twin-hearts, and giving an 
 equal tenderness and gratitude. Then first she saw the 
 mysterious need which united them, the fulness and joy 
 wherewith each completed himself in the other. All the 
 imperfect past was enlightened, and the end, even that 
 now so near, was very good. 
 
 Every afternoon they carried her down to a cushioned 
 chair on the veranda, where she could enjoy the quiet of 
 the sunny landscape, the presence of the brothers seated 
 at her feet, and the sports of her children on the grass. 
 Thus, one day, while David and Jonathan held her hands 
 and waited for her to wake from a happy sleep, she went 
 before them, and, ere they guessed the truth, she was 
 waiting for their one soul in the undiscovered land. 
 
 And Jonathan s children, now growing into manhood 
 and girlhood, also call David " father." The marks left 
 by their divided lives have long since vanished from their 
 faces ; the middle-aged men, whose hairs are turning gray, 
 still walk hand in hand, still sleep upon the same pillow, 
 still have their common wardrobe, as when they were 
 boys. They talk of " our Ruth " with no sadness, for 
 they believe that death will make them one, when, at the 
 same moment, he summons both. And we who know 
 them, to whom they have confided the touching myster) 
 of their nature, believe so too. 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 
 
 RIDGEPORT ! Change cars for the 
 Naugatuck Railroad ! " shouted the 
 conductor of the New York and Bos- 
 ton Express Train, on the evening 
 of May 27th, 1858. Indeed, he does 
 it every night (Sundays excepted), 
 for that matter ; but as this story refers especially to Mr. 
 J. Edward Johnson, who was a passenger on that train, 
 on the aforesaid evening, I make special mention of the 
 fact. Mr. Johnson, carpet-bag in hand, jumped upon the 
 platform, entered the office, purchased a ticket for Water- 
 bury, and was soon whirling in the Naugatuck train to 
 wards his destination. 
 
 On reaching Waterbury, in the soft spring twilight, 
 Mr. Johnson walked up and down in front of the station, 
 curiously scanning the faces of the assembled crowd. 
 Presently he noticed a gentleman who was performing 
 the same operation upon the faces of the alighting pas 
 sengers. Throwing himself directly in the way of the 
 latter, the two exchanged a steady gaze. 
 
 " Is your name Billings ? " " Is your name Joh nson ? * 
 9 
 
194 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 were simultaneous questions, followed by the simultane 
 ous exclamations" Ned ! " " Enos ! " 
 
 Then there was a crushing grasp of hands, repeated 
 after a pause, in testimony of ancient friendship, and Mr. 
 Billings, returning to practical life, asked 
 
 " Is that all your baggage ? Come, I have a buggy 
 here : Eunice has heard the whistle, and she ll be impa 
 tient to welcome you." 
 
 The impatience of Eunice (Mrs. Billings, of course,) 
 was not of long duration, for in five minutes thereafter 
 she stood at the door of her husband s chocolate-colored 
 villa, receiving his friend. 
 
 While these three persons are comfortably seated at the 
 tea-table, enjoying their waffles, cold tongue, and canned 
 peaches, and asking and answering questions helter-skelter 
 in the delightful confusion of reunion after long separation, 
 let us briefly inform the reader who and what they are. 
 
 Mr. Enos Billings, then, was part owner of a manu 
 factory of metal buttons, forty years old, of middling 
 height, ordinarily quiet and rather shy, but with a large 
 share of latent warmth and enthusiasm in his nature. 
 His hair was brown, slightly streaked with gray, his eyes 
 a soft, dark hazel, forehead square, eyebrows straight, 
 nose of no very marked character, and a mouth moder 
 ately full, with a tendency to twitch a little at the comers, 
 His voice was undertoned, but mellow and agreeable. 
 
 Mrs. Eunice Billings, of nearly equal age, was a good 
 specimen of the wide-awake New-England woman. Her 
 face had a piquant smartness of expression, which might 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 1 95 
 
 have been refined into a sharp edge, but for her natural 
 hearty good-humor. Her head was smoothly formed, her 
 face a full oval, her hair and eyes blond and blue in a 
 strong light, but brown and steel-gray at other times, and 
 her complexion of that ripe fairness into which a ruddiei 
 color will sometimes fade. Her form, neither plump nor 
 square, had yet a firm, elastic compactness, and her slight 
 est movement conveyed a certain impression of decision 
 and self-reliance. 
 
 As for J. Edward Johnson, it is enough to say that he 
 was a tall, thin gentleman of forty-five, with an aquiline 
 nose, narrow face, and military whiskers, which swooped 
 upwards and met under his nose in a glossy black mus 
 tache. His complexion was dark, from the bronzing of 
 fifteen summers in New Orleans. He was a member of a 
 wholesale hardware firm in that city, and had now revisit 
 ed his native North for the first time since his departure. 
 A year before, some letters relating to invoices of metal 
 buttons signed," Foster, Kirkup, & Co., per Enos Billings," 
 had accidentally revealed to him the whereabouts of the 
 old friend of his youth, with whom we now find him dom 
 iciled. The first thing he did, after attending to some 
 necessary business matters in New York, was to take the 
 train for Waterbury. 
 
 " Enos," said he, as he stretched out his hand for the 
 third cup of tea (which he had taken only for the purpose 
 of prolonging the pleasant table-chat),"! wonder which 
 of us is most changed." 
 
 "You, of course." said Mr. Billings, " with your brown 
 
196 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 face and big mustache. Youi own brother wouldn t have 
 known you if he had seen you last, as I did, with smooth 
 cheeks ard hair of unmerciful length. Why, not even 
 your voice is the same ! " 
 
 "That is easily accounted for," replied Mr. Johnson. 
 * But in your case, Enos, I am puzzled to find where the 
 difference lies. Your features seem to be but little changed, 
 now that I can examine them at leisure ; yet it is not the 
 same face. But, really, I never looked at you for so long a 
 time, in those days. I beg pardon ; you used to be so 
 so remarkably shy." 
 
 Mr. Billings blushed slightly, and seemed at a loss 
 what to answer. His wife,- however, burst into a merry 
 laugh, exclaiming 
 
 " Oh, that was before the days of the A. C ! " 
 
 He, catching the infection, laughed also ; in fact Mr. 
 Johnson laughed, but without knowing why. 
 
 " The A. C. ! " said Mr. Billings. " Bless me, Eu 
 nice ! how long it is since we have talked of that summer ! 
 I had almost forgotten that there ever was an A. C." 
 
 " Enos, could you ever forget Abel Mallory and the 
 beer ? or that scene between Hollins and Shelldrake ?- 
 or" (here she blushed the least bit) "your own fit of can 
 dor ? " And she laughed again, more heartily than ever. 
 
 " What a precious lot of fools, to be sure ! " exclaimed 
 her husban 1. 
 
 Mr. Johnson, meanwhile, though enjoying the cheerful 
 humor of his hosts, was not a little puzzled with regard to 
 its cause. 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 197 
 
 " What is the A. C. ? " he ventured to ask. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Billings looked at each other, and smiled 
 without replying. 
 
 " Really, Ned," said the former, finally, " the inswet 
 to your question involves the whole story." 
 
 " Then why not tell him the whole story, Enos ? " re 
 marked his wife. 
 
 " You know I ve never told it yet, and it s rather a 
 hard thing to do, seeing that I m one of the heroes of the 
 farce for it wasn t even genteel comedy, Ned," said Mr. 
 Billings. " However," he continued, " absurd as the 
 story may seem, it s the only key to the change in my 
 life, and I must run the risk of being laughed at." 
 
 " I ll help you through, Enos," said his wife, encourag 
 ingly ; " and besides, my rile in the farce was no better 
 than yours. Let us resuscitate, for to-night only, the con 
 stitution of the A. C." 
 
 " Upon my word, a capital idea ! But we shall have 
 to initiate Ned." 
 
 Mr. Johnson merrily agreeing, he was blindfolded and 
 conducted into another room. A heavy arm-chair, rolling 
 on casters, struck his legs in the rear, and he sank into it 
 with lamb-like resignation. 
 
 " Open your mouth ! " was the command, given with 
 mock solemnity. 
 
 He obeyed. 
 
 " Now shut it ! " 
 
 And his lips closed upon a cigar, while at the samt 
 time the handkerchief was whisked away from his eyes 
 He found himself in Mr. Billing s library. 
 
198 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Your nose betrays your taste, Mr. Johnson," said the 
 lady, " and I am not hard-hearted enough to deprive you 
 of the indulgence. Here are matches." 
 
 " Well," said he, acting upon the hint, " if the remain 
 der of the ceremonies are equally agreeable, I should like 
 to be a permanent member of your order." 
 
 By this time Mr. and Mrs. Billings, having between 
 them lighted the lamp, stirred up the coal in the grate, 
 closed the doors, and taken possession of comfortable 
 chairs, the latter proclaimed 
 
 "The Chapter (isn t that what you call it?) will now 
 be held ! " 
 
 " Was it in 43 when you left home, Ned ? " asked 
 Mr. B. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, the A. C. culminated in 45. You remember 
 something of the society of Norridgeport, the last winter 
 you were there ? Abel Mallory, for instance ? " 
 
 " Let me think a moment," said Mr. Johnson reflect 
 ively. "Really, it seems like looking back a hundred 
 years. Mallory wasn t that the sentimental young man 
 with wispy hair, a tallowy skin, and big, sweaty hands, 
 who used to be spouting Carlyle on the reading even 
 ings at Shelldrake s ? Yes, to be sure ; and there was 
 Hollins, with his clerical face and infidel talk, and Pau 
 line Ringtop, who used to say, The Beautiful is the 
 Good/ I can still hear her shrill voice, singing, * Would 
 that /were beautiful, would that /were fair ! " 
 
 There was a hearty chorus of laughter at poor Miss 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 199 
 
 Ringtop s expense. It harmed no one, however ; for the 
 tar-weed was already thick over her Californian grave. 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Mr. Billings, "you still remember 
 the absurdities of those days. In fact, I think you partial 
 ly saw through them then. But I was younger, and far 
 from being so clear-headed, and I looked upon those 
 evenings at Shelldrake s as being equal, at least, to the 
 symposia of Plato. Something in Mallory always repelled 
 me. I detested the sight of his thick nose, with the flaring 
 nostrils, and his coarse, half-formed lips, of the bluish color 
 of raw corned-beef. But I looked upon these feelings as un 
 reasonable prejudices, and strove to conquer them, seeing 
 the admiration which he received from others. He was an 
 oracle on the subject of Nature. Having eaten nothing 
 for two years, except Graham bread, vegetables without 
 salt, and fruits, fresh or dried, he considered himself to 
 have attained an antediluvian purity of health or that he 
 would attain it, so soon as two pimples on his left temple 
 should have healed. These pimples he looked upon as 
 the last feeble stand made by the pernicious juices left 
 from the meat he had formerly eaten and the coffee he 
 had drunk. His theory was, that through a body so 
 purged and purified none but true and natural impulses 
 could find access to the soul. Such, indeed, was the the 
 ory we all held. A Return to Nature was the near Mil 
 lennium, the dawn of which we already beheld in the sky. 
 To be sure there was a difference in our individual views 
 as to how this should be achieved, but we were all agreed 
 as to what the result should be. 
 
200 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " I can laugh over those days now, Ned ; but the) 
 were really happy while they lasted. We were the salt of 
 the earth ; we were lifted above those grovelling instincts 
 which we saw manifested in the lives of others. Each con 
 tributed his share of gas to inflate the painted balloon to 
 which we all clung, in the expectation that it would pres 
 ently soar with us to the stars. But it only went up over 
 the out-houses, dodged backwards and forwards two 01 
 three times, and finally flopped down with us into a swamp. 
 
 " And that balloon was the A. C. ? " suggested Mr. 
 Johnson. 
 
 " As President of this Chapter, I prohibit questions," 
 said Eunice. " And, Enos, don t send up your balloon un 
 til the proper time. Don t anticipate the programme, or 
 the performance will be spoiled." 
 
 " I had almost forgotten that Ned is so much in the 
 dark," her obedient husband answered. " You can have 
 but a slight notion," he continued, turning to his friend, 
 " of the extent to which this sentimental, or transcendental, 
 element in the little circle at Shelldrake s increased after 
 you left Norridgeport. We read the Dial, and Emerson ; 
 we believed in Alcott as the purple Plato of modern 
 times ; we took psychological works out of the library, 
 and would listen for hours to Hollins while he read Schel- 
 ling or Fichte, and then go home with a misty impression 
 of having imbibed infinite wisdom. It was, perhaps, a 
 natural, though very eccentric rebound from the hard, prac 
 tical, unimaginative New-England mind which surround 
 ed us ; yet I look back upon it with a Kind of wor.der 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 2O1 
 
 I was then, as you know, unformed mentally, and might 
 have been so still, but for the experiences of the A. C. 
 
 Mr. Johnson shifted his position, a little impatiently, 
 Eunice looked at him with laughing eyes, and shook hei 
 finger with a mock threat. 
 
 " Shelldrake," continued Mr. Billings, without noticing 
 this by-play, " was a man of more pretence than real cul 
 tivation, as I afterwards discovered. He was in good cir 
 cumstances, and always glad to receive us at his house, as 
 this made him, virtually, the chief of our tribe, and the out 
 lay for refreshments involved only the apples from his own 
 orchard and water from his well. There was an entire ab 
 sence of conventionality at our meetings, and this, con- 
 pared with the somewhat stiff society of the village, was 
 really an attraction. There was a mystic bond of union 
 in our ideas : we discussed life, love, religion, and the fu 
 ture state, not only with the utmost candor, but with a 
 warmth of feeling which, in many of us, was genuine. 
 Even I (and you know how painfully shy and bashful I 
 was) felt myself more at home there than in my father s 
 house ; and if I didn t talk much, I had a pleasant feeling 
 of being in harmony with those who did. 
 
 " Well, twas in the early part of 45 I think in April, 
 when we were all gathered together, discussing, as usual, 
 the possibility of leading a life in accordance with Nature. 
 Abel Mallory was there, and Hollins, and Miss Ringtop, 
 and Faith Levis, with her knitting, and also Eunice 
 Hazleton, a lady whom you have never seen, but you 
 may take my wife at her representative " 
 Q* 
 
202 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Stick to the programme, Enos," interrupted Mrs. Bil 
 lings. 
 
 " Eunice Hazleton, then. I wish I could recollect 
 5ome of the speeches made on that occasion. Abel had 
 but one pimple on his temple (there was a purple spot 
 where the other had been), and was estimating that in two 
 or three months more he would be a true, unspoiled man. 
 His complexion, nevertheless, was more clammy and whey- 
 like than ever. 
 
 " Yes, said he, I also am an Arcadian ! This false 
 dual existence which I have been leading will soon be 
 merged in the unity of Nature. Our lives must conform 
 to her sacred law. Why can t we strip off these hollow 
 Shams/ (he made great use of that word,) and be our 
 true selves, pure, perfect, and divine ? * 
 
 " Miss Ringtop heaved a sigh, and repeated a stanza 
 from her favorite poet : 
 
 " Ah, when wrecked are my desires 
 
 On the everlasting Never, 
 And my heart with all its fires 
 
 Out forever, 
 
 In the cradle of Creation 
 Finds the soul resuscitation ! 
 
 a Shelldrake, however, turning to his wife, said 
 
 " Elviry, how many up-stairs rooms is there in that 
 house down on the Sound ? 
 
 " * Four, besides three small ones undei the roof, 
 Why, what made you think of that, Jesse ? said she. 
 
 " I ve got an idea, while Abel s been talking, he an 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 203 
 
 swered. * We ve taken a house for the summer, down the 
 other side of Bridgeport, right on the water, where there s 
 good fishing and a fine view of the Sound. Now, there s 
 room enough for all of us at least all that can make it 
 suit to go. Abel, you and Enos, and Pauline and Eunice 
 might fix matters so that we could all take the place in 
 partnership, and pass the summer together, living a true 
 and beautiful life in the bosom of Nature. There we shall 
 be perfectly free and untrammelled by the chains which 
 still hang around us in Norridgeport. You know how of 
 ten we have wanted to be set on some island in the Pa 
 cific Ocean, where we could build up a true society, right 
 from the start. Now, here s a chance to try the experiment 
 for a few months, anyhow. 
 
 " Eunice clapped her hands (yes, you did ! ) and cried 
 out 
 
 " Splendid ! Arcadian ! I ll give up my school for the 
 summer. 
 
 "Miss Ringtop gave her opinion in another quota 
 tion: 
 
 " The rainbow hues of the Ideal 
 
 Condense to gems, and form the Real ! 
 
 " Abel Mallory, of course, did not need to have the pro- 
 posal repeated. He was ready for any thing which prom 
 ised indulgence, and the indulgence of his sentimental 
 tastes. I will do the fellow the justice to say that he was 
 not a hypocrite. He firmly believed both in himself and 
 his ideas especially the former. He pushed both hands 
 
204 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 through the long wisps of his drab- colored Lair, and ihrew 
 his head back until his wide nostrils resembled a double 
 door to his brain. 
 
 " Oh Nature ! he said, * you have found your lost 
 children ! We shall obey your neglected laws ! we shall 
 hearken to your divine whispers ! we shall bring you back 
 from your ignominious exile, and place you on your ances 
 tral throne ! 
 
 " * Let us do it ! was the general cry. 
 
 " A sudden enthusiasm fired us, and we grasped each 
 other s hands in the hearty impulse of the moment. My 
 own private intention to make a summer trip to the White 
 Mountains had been relinquished the moment I heard 
 Eunice give in her adhesion. I may as well confess, at 
 once, that I was desperately in love, and afraid to speak 
 to her. 
 
 " By the time Mrs. Sheldrake brought in the apples 
 and water we were discussing the plan as a settled thing. 
 Hollins had an engagement to deliver Temperance lec 
 tures in Ohio during the summer, but decided to postpone 
 his departure until August, so that he might, at least, spend 
 two months with us. Faith Levis couldn t go at which, 
 I think, we were all secretly glad. Some three or four 
 others were in the same case, and the company was finally 
 arranged to consist of the Shelldrakes, Hollins, Mallory, 
 Eunice, Miss Ringtop, and myself. We did not give much 
 thought, either to the preparations in advance, or to our 
 mode of life when settled there. We were t> live near to 
 Nature : that was the main thing. 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 205 
 
 " * What shall we call the place ? asked Eunice. 
 
 " Arcadia ! said Abel Malloiy, rolling up his large 
 green eyes. 
 
 " Then/ said Rollins, * let us constitute ourselves the 
 Arcadian Club ! " 
 
 " Aha ! " interrupted Mr. Johnson, " I see ! The 
 
 A. C. ! " 
 
 " Yes, you can see the A. C. now," said Mrs. Billings \ 
 " but to understand it fully, you should have had a share 
 in those Arcadian experiences." 
 
 " I am all the more interested in hearing them descri 
 bed. Go on, Enos." 
 
 " The proposition was adopted. We called ourselves 
 The Arcadian Club ; but in order to avoid gossip, and the 
 usual ridicule, to which we were all more or less sensitive, 
 in case our plan should become generally known, it was 
 agreed that the initials only should be used. Besides, 
 there was an agreeable air of mystery about it : we thought 
 of Delphi, and Eleusis, and Samothrace : we should dis 
 cover that Truth which the dim eyes of worldly men and 
 women were unable to see, and the day of disclosure 
 would be the day of Triumph. In one sense we were 
 truly Arcadians : no suspicion of impropriety, I verily be 
 lieve, entered any of our minds. In our aspirations after 
 what we called a truer life there was no material taint. We 
 were fools, if you choose, but as far as possible from being 
 sinners. Besides, the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Shell- 
 drake, who naturally became the heads of our proposed 
 community were sufficient to preserve us from slandei 
 
2o6 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 or suspicion, if even our designs had been publicly an 
 nounced. 
 
 " I won t bore you with an account of our prepara 
 tions. In fact, there was very little to be done. Mr 
 Shelldrake succeeded in hiring the house, with most of its 
 furniture, so that but a few articles had to be supplied. 
 My trunk contained more books than boots, more blank 
 paper than linen. 
 
 " Two shirts will be enough, said Abel : you can 
 wash one of them any day, and dry it in the sun. 
 
 " The supplies consisted mostly of flour, potatoes, and 
 sugar. There was a vegetable-garden in good condition, 
 Mr. Shelldrake said, which would be our principal depend 
 ence. 
 
 " Besides, the clams ! I exclaimed unthinkingly. 
 
 " * Oh, yes ! said Eunice, we can have chowder-par 
 ties : that will be delightful ! 
 
 " Clams ! chowder ! oh, worse than flesh ! groaned 
 Abel. Will you reverence Nature by outraging her first 
 laws ? 
 
 " I had made a great mistake, and felt very foolish. 
 Eunice and I looked at each other, for the first time." 
 
 " Speak for yourself only, Enos," gently interpolated 
 his wife. 
 
 " It was a lovely afternoon in the beginning of June 
 when we first approached Arcadia. We had taken two 
 double teams at Bridgeport, and drove slowly forward to 
 our destination, followed by a cart containing our trunks 
 und a few household articles. It was a bright, balmy day 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 207 
 
 the wheat-fields were rich and green, the clover showed 
 faint streaks of ruby mist along slopes leaning southward, 
 and the meadows were yellow with buttercups. Now and 
 then we caught glimpses of the Sound, and, far beyond 
 it, the dim Long Island shore. Every old white farm 
 house, with its gray-walled garden, its clumps of lilacs, vi 
 burnums, and early roses, offered us a picture of pastoral 
 simplicity and repose. We passed them, one by one, in the 
 happiest mood, enjoying the earth around us, the sky 
 above, and ourselves most of all. 
 
 "The scenery, however, gradually became more rough 
 and broken. Knobs of gray gneiss, crowned by mournful 
 cedars, intrenched upon the arable land, and the dark-blue 
 gleam of water appeared through the trees. Our road, 
 which had been approaching the Sound, now skirted the 
 head of a deep, irregular inlet, beyond which extended a 
 beautiful promontory, thickly studded with cedars, and 
 with scattering groups of elm, oak and maple trees. To 
 wards the end of the promontory stood a house, with 
 white walls shining against the blue line of the Sound. 
 
 " There is Arcadia, at last! exclaimed Mr. Shell- 
 drake. 
 
 " A general outcry of delight greeted the announce 
 ment. And, indeed, the loveliness of the picture surpass 
 ed our most poetic anticipations. The low sun was throw 
 ing exquisite lights across the point, painting the slopes of 
 grass of golden green, and giving a pearly softness to the 
 gray rocks. In the back-ground was drawn the far-off 
 water-line, over which a few specks of sail glimmered 
 
2O8 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 against the sky. Miss Ringtop, who, with Eunice, Mai- 
 lory, and myself, occupied one carriage, expressed hei 
 gushing feelings in the usual manner: 
 
 " Where the turf is softest, greenest, 
 Doth an angel thrust me on, 
 Where the landscape lies serenest, 
 In the journey of the sun ! 
 
 " Don t, Pauline ! said Eunice ; * I never like to hear 
 poetry flourished in the face of Nature. This landscape 
 surpasses any poem in the world. Let us enjoy the best 
 thing we have, rather than the next best. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! sighed Miss Ringtop, * tis true ! 
 
 " * They sing to the ear ; this sings to the eye ! 
 
 " Thenceforward, to the house, all was childish joy and 
 jubilee. All minor personal repugnances were smoothed 
 >ver in the general exultation. Even Abel Mallory be 
 came agreeable ; and Hollins, sitting beside Mrs. Shell- 
 drake on the back seat of the foremost carriage, shouted 
 to us, in boyish lightness of heart. 
 
 " Passing the head of the inlet, we left the country- 
 road, and entered, through a gate in the tottering stone 
 wall, on our summer domain. A track, open to the field 
 on one side, led us past a clump of deciduous trees, be 
 tween pastures broken by cedared knolls of rock, down 
 the centre of the peninsula, to the house. It was quite 
 an old frame-building, two stories high, with a gambre) 
 roof and tall chimneys. Two slim Lombardy poplars and 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 
 
 a broad-leaved catalpa shaded the southern side, and a 
 kitchen-garden, divided in the centre by a double row of 
 untrimmed currant-bushes, flanked it on the east. Foi 
 flowers, there were masses of blue flags and coarse tawny- 
 red lilies, besides a huge trumpet-vine which swung its 
 pendent arms from one of the gables. In front of the 
 house a natural lawn of mingled turf and rock sloped 
 steeply down to the water, which was not more than two 
 hundred yards distant. To the west was another and 
 broader inlet of the Sound, out of which our Arcadian 
 promontory rose bluff and bold, crowned with a thick 
 fringe of pines. It was really a lovely spot which Shell- 
 drake had chosen so secluded, while almost surrounded 
 by the winged and moving life of the Sound, so simple, 
 so pastoral and home-like. No one doubted the success 
 of our experiment, for that evening at least. 
 
 " Perkins Brown, Shelldrake s boy-of-all-work, awaited 
 us at the door. He had been sent on two or three days 
 in advance, to take charge of the house, and seemed to 
 have had enough of hermit-life, for he hailed us with a 
 wild whoop, throwing his straw hat half-way up one of the 
 poplars. Perkins was a boy of fifteen, the child of poor 
 parents, who were satisfied to get him off their hands, re 
 gardless as to what humanitarian theories might be tested 
 upon him. As the Arcadian Club recognized no such 
 thing as caste, he was always admitted to our meetings, 
 and understood just enough of our conrersation to excite 
 a silly ambition in his slow mind. His animal nature was 
 predominant, and this led him to be deceitful. At that 
 
210 TALES OF HOME, 
 
 time, however, we all looked upon him as a proper young 
 Arcadian, and hoped that he would develop into a second 
 Abel Mallory. 
 
 " After our effects had been deposited on the stoop, 
 and the carriages had driven away, we proceeded to ap 
 portion the rooms, and take possession. On the first floor 
 there were three rooms, two of which would serve us as 
 dining and drawing rooms, leaving the third for the Shell- 
 drakes. As neither Eunice and Miss Ringtop, nor Hol- 
 lins and Abel showed any disposition to room together, 
 I quietly gave up to them the four rooms in the sec 
 ond story, and installed myself in one of the attic cham 
 bers. Here I could hear the music of the rain close 
 above my head, and through the little gable window, as I 
 lay in bed, watch the colors of the morning gradually 
 steal over the distant shores. The end was, we were all 
 satisfied. 
 
 " * Now for our first meal in Arcadia ! was the next 
 cry. Mrs. Shelldrake, like a prudent housekeeper, 
 marched off to the kitchen, where Perkins had already 
 kindled a fire. We looked in at the door, but thought it 
 best to allow her undisputed sway in such a narrow 
 realm. Eunice was unpacking some loaves of bread and 
 paper bags of crackers ; and Miss Ringtop, smiling 
 through her ropy curls, as much as to say, You see, J 
 also can perform the coarser tasks of life ! occupied her 
 self with plates and cups. We men, therefore, walked 
 out to the garden, which we found in a promising condi 
 tion. The usual vegetables had been planted and were 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 2 1 1 
 
 growing finely, for the season was yet scarcely warm 
 enough for the weeds to make much headway. Radishes, 
 young onions, and lettuce formed our contribution to the 
 table. The Shelldrakes, I should explain, had not yer 
 advanced to the antediluvian point, in diet : nor, indeed, 
 had either Eunice or myself. We acknowledged the fas 
 cination of tea, we saw a very mitigated evil in milk and 
 butter, and we were conscious of stifled longings after the 
 abomination of meat. Only Mallory, Hollins, and Miss 
 Ringtop had reached that loftiest round on the ladder of 
 progress where the material nature loosens the last fetter 
 of the spiritual. They looked down upon us, and we 
 meekly admitted their right to do so. 
 
 " Our board, that evening, was really tempting. The 
 absence of meat was compensated to us by the crisp and 
 racy onions, and I craved only a little salt, which had 
 been interdicted, as a most pernicious substance. I sat 
 at one corner of the table, beside Perkins Brown, who 
 took an opportunity, while the others were engaged in 
 conversation, to jog my elbow gently. As I turned to 
 wards him, he said nothing, but dropped his eyes signifi 
 cantly. The little rascnl had the lid of a blacking-box, 
 
 filled with salt, upon his knee, and was privately season- 
 
 
 ing his onions and radishes. I blushed at the thought 
 
 of my hypocrisy, but the onions were so much better that 
 I couldn t help dipping into the lid with him. 
 
 " Oh, said Eunice, we must send for some oil and 
 vinegar! This lettuce is very nice. 
 
 " * Oil and vinegar ? exclaimed Abel. 
 
212 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Why, yes, said she, innocently : they are both 
 vegetable substances. 
 
 " Abel at first looked rather foolish, but quickly re 
 covering himself, said 
 
 " All vegetable substances are not proper for food , 
 you would not taste the poison-oak, or sit under the 
 upas-tree of Java. 
 
 " l Well, Abel, Eunice rejoined, * how are we to dis 
 tinguish what is best for us ? How are we to know whai 
 vegetables to choose, or what animal and mineral sub 
 stances to avoid ? 
 
 " I will tell you, he answered, with a lofty air. See 
 here ! pointing to his temple, where the second pimple 
 either from the change of air, or because, in the ex 
 citement of the last few days, he had forgotten it was 
 actually healed. My blood is at last pure. The strug 
 gle between the natural and the unnatural is over, and I 
 am beyond the depraved influences of my former taste. 
 My instincts are now, therefore, entirely pure also. What 
 is good for man to eat, that I shall have a natural desire 
 to eat : what is bad will be naturally repelled. How does 
 the cow distinguish between the wholesome and the poi 
 sonous herbs of the meadow ? And is man less than a 
 cow, that he cannot cultivate his instincts to an equal 
 point? Let me walk through the woods and I can tell 
 you every berry and root which God designed for food, 
 though I know not its name, and have never seen it be 
 fore. I shall make use of my time, during our sojourn 
 here, to test, by my purified instinct, every substance, an- 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 213 
 
 imal, mineral, and vegetable, upon which the human race 
 subsists, and to create a catalogue of the True Food of 
 Man! 
 
 " Abel was eloquent on this theme, and he silenced 
 not only Eunice, but the rest of us. Indeed, as we were 
 al. half infected with the same delusions, it was not easy 
 to answer his sophistries. 
 
 " After supper was over, the prospect of cleaning the 
 dishes and putting things in order was not so agreeable j 
 but Mrs. Shelldrake and Perkins undertook the work, 
 and we did not think it necessary to interfere with them. 
 Half an hour afterwards, when the full moon had risen, 
 we took our chairs upon the stoop, to enjoy the calm, 
 silver night, the soft sea-air, and our summer s residence 
 in anticipatory talk. 
 
 " * My friends, said Hollins (and his hobby, as you 
 may remember, Ned, was the organization of Society, 
 rather than those reforms which apply directly to the In 
 dividual), my friends, I think we are sufficiently ad 
 vanced in progressive ideas to establish our little Arca 
 dian community upon what I consider the true basis: 
 not Law, nor Custom, but the uncorrupted impulses of 
 our nature. What Abel said in regard to dietetic reform 
 is true ; but that alone will not regenerate the race. We 
 must rise superior to those conventional ideas of Duty 
 whereby Life is warped and crippled. Life must not be 
 a prison, where each one must come and go, work, eat, 
 and sleep, as the jailer commands. Labor must not be 
 a necessity, but a spontaneous joy. Tis true, but little 
 
214 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 labor is required of us here : let us, therefore, have no 
 set tasks, no fixed rules, but each one work, rest, eat, 
 sleep, talk or be silent, as his own nature prompts. 
 
 "Perkins, sitting on the steps, gave a suppressed 
 chuckle, which I think no one heard but myself. I was 
 vexed with his levity, but, nevertheless, gave him a warning 
 nudge with my toe, in payment for the surreptitious salt. 
 
 " c That s just the notion I had, when I first talked 
 of our coming here, said Shelldrake. * Here we re 
 alone and unhindered ; and if the plan shouldn t happen 
 to work well (I don t see why it shouldn t though), no 
 harm will be done. I ve had a deal of hard work in my 
 life, and I ve been badgered and bullied so much by 
 your strait-laced professors, that I m glad to get away 
 from the world for a spell, and talk and do rationally, 
 without being laughed at. 
 
 " * Yes, answered Hollins, and if we succeed, as I 
 feel we shall, for I think I know the hearts of all of us 
 here, this may be the commencement of a new tepoch for 
 the world. We may become the turning-point between 
 two dispensations : behind us every thing false and un 
 natural, before us every thing true, beautiful, and good. 1 
 
 " Ah, sighed Miss Ringtop, it reminds me of Ga 
 maliel J, Gawthrop s beautiful lines : 
 
 ** * Unrobed man is lying hoary 
 
 In the distance, gray and dead ; 
 There no wreaths of godless glory 
 
 To his mist-like tresses wed, 
 And the foot-fall of the Ages 
 
 Reigns supreme, with noiseless, tread.* 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 21 $ 
 
 " * I am willing to try the experiment, said I, on be 
 ing appealed to by Hollins j but don t you think we had 
 better observe some kind of order, even in yielding every 
 thing to impulse ? Shouldn t there be, at least, a plat- 
 foim, as the politicians call it an agreement by which 
 we shall all be bound, and which we can afterwards ex 
 hibit as the basis of our success ? 
 
 " He meditated a few moments, and then answered 
 
 " I think not. It resembles too much the thing we 
 are trying to overthrow. Can you bind a man s belief 
 by making him sign certain articles of Faith ? No : his 
 thought will be free, in spite of it ; and I would have Ac 
 tion Life as free as Thought. Our platform to adopt 
 your image has but one plank : Truth. Let each only 
 be true to himself: be himself, act himself, or herself with 
 the uttermost candor. We can all agree upon that. 
 
 " The agreement was accordingly made. And cer 
 tainly no happier or more hopeful human beings went to 
 bed in all New England that night. 
 
 " I arose with the sun, went into the garden, and com 
 menced weeding, intending to do my quota of work before 
 breakfast, and then devote the day to reading and convei- 
 sation. I was presently joined by Shelldrake and Mai- 
 lory, and between us we finished the onions and radishes, 
 stuck the peas, and cleaned the alleys. Perkins, after 
 milking the cow and turning her out to pasture, assisted 
 Mrs. Shelldrake in the kitchen. At breakfast we were 
 joined by Hollins, who made no excuse for his easy morn 
 ing habits ; nor was one expected. I may as well tell you 
 
216 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 now, though, that his natural instincts never led him tc 
 work. After a week, when a second crop of weeds was 
 coming on, Mallory fell off also, and thenceforth Shelldrake 
 and myself had the entire charge of the garden. Perkins 
 did the rougher work, and was always on hand when he 
 was wanted. Very soon, however, I noticed that he was 
 in the habit of disappearing for two or three hours in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 "Our meals preserved the same Spartan simplicity. 
 Eunice, however, carried her point in regard to the salad ; 
 for Abel, after tasting and finding it very palatable, de 
 cided that oil and vinegar might be classed in the cata 
 logue of True Food. Indeed, his long abstinence from 
 piquant flavors gave him such an appetite for it that our 
 supply of lettuce was soon exhausted. An embarrassing 
 accident also favored us with the use of salt. Perkins 
 happening to move his knee at the moment I was dipping 
 an onion into the blacking-box lid, our supply was knock 
 ed upon the floor. He picked it up, and we both hoped 
 the accident might pass unnoticed. But Abel, stretching 
 his long neck across the corner of the table, caught a 
 glimpse of what was going on. 
 
 " What s that? he asked. 
 
 " Oh, it s it s only, said I, seeking for a synonyme, 
 only chloride of sodium 1* 
 
 " Chloride of sodium ! what do you do with it ? 
 
 " Eat it with onions, said I, boldly : it s a chemical 
 substance, but I believe it is found in some plants. 
 
 "Eunice, who knew something of chemistry (she 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 2 1/ 
 
 taught a class, though you wouldn t think it), grew red 
 with suppressed fun, but the others were as ignorant as 
 Abel Mallory himself. 
 
 " Let me taste it, said he, stretching out an onion. 
 
 "I handed him the box-lid, which still contained a 
 portion of its contents. He dipped the onion, bit off a 
 piece, and chewed it gravely. 
 
 " Why, said he, turning to me, it s very much like 
 salt. 
 
 " Perkins burst into a spluttering yell, which discharg 
 ed an onion-top he had just put between his teeth across 
 the table ; Eunice and I gave way at the same moment : 
 and the others, catching the joke, joined us. But while 
 we were laughing, Abel was finishing his onion, and the 
 result was that Salt was added to the True Food, and 
 thereafter appeared regularly on the table. 
 
 " The forenoons we usually spent in reading and writ 
 ing, each in his or her chamber. (Oh, the journals, Ned ! 
 but you shall not see mine.) After a midday meal, 
 I cannot call it dinner, we sat upon the stoop, listening 
 while one of us read aloud, or strolled down the shores on 
 either side, or, when the sun was not too warm, got into 
 a boat, and rowed or floated lazily around the promontory. 
 
 " One afternoon, as I was sauntering off, past the gar 
 den, towards the eastern inlet, I noticed Perkins slipping 
 along behind the cedar knobs, towards the little woodland 
 at the end of our domain. Curious to find out the cause 
 of his mysterious disappearances, I followed cautiously. 
 From the edge of the wood I saw him enter a little gap 
 
2l8 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 between the rocks, which led down to the water. Pres 
 ently a thread of blue smoke stole up. Quietly creeping 
 along, I got upon the nearer bluff and looked down. There 
 was a sort of hearth built up at the base of the rock, with 
 a brisk little fire burning upon it, but Perkins had disap 
 peared. I stretched myself out upon the moss, in the 
 shade, and waited. In about half an hour up came Per 
 kins, with a large fish in one hand and a lump of clay in 
 the other. I now understood the mystery. He carefully 
 imbedded the fish in a thin layer of clay, placed it on the 
 coals, and then went down to the shore to wash his hands. 
 On his return he found me watching the fire. 
 
 " Ho, ho, Mr. Enos ! said he, * you ve found me out ; 
 But you won t say nothin . Gosh ! you like it as well I do. 
 Look ee there ! breaking open the clay, from which 
 arose a steam of rich distilled perfumes/ and, I say, 
 I ve got the box-lid with that ere stuff in it, ho ! ho 1 
 and the scamp roared again. 
 
 " Out of a hole in the rock he brought salt and the end 
 of a loaf, and between us we finished the fish. Before long, 
 I got into the habit of disappearing in the afternoon. 
 
 " Now and then we took walks, alone or collectively, 
 to the nearest village, or even to Bridgeport, for the papers 
 or a late book. The few purchases we required were 
 made at such times, and sent down in a cart, or, if not too 
 heavy, carried by Perkins in a basket. I noticed that 
 Abel, whenever we had occasion to visit a grocery, would 
 go sniffing around, alternately attracted or repelled by the 
 various articles : now turning away with a shudder from a 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 2 19 
 
 ham, now inhaling, with a fearful delight and uncertain 
 ty, the odor of smoked herrings. * I think herrings must 
 feed on sea-weed, said he, there is such a vegetable at 
 traction about them. After his violent vegetarian haran 
 gues, however, he hesitated about adding them to his 
 catalogue. 
 
 " But, one day, as we were passing through the village, 
 he was reminded by the sign of * WARTER CRACKERS^* in 
 the window of an obscure grocery that he required a sup 
 ply of these articles, and v?e therefore entered. There 
 was a splendid Rhode Island cheese on the counter, from 
 which the shop-mistress was just cutting a slice for a cus 
 tomer. Abel leaned over it, inhaling the rich, pungent 
 fragrance. 
 
 " * Enos, said he to me, between his sniffs, this im 
 presses me like flowers like marigolds. It must be 
 really yes, the vegetable element is predominant. My 
 instinct towards it is so strong that I cannot be mistaken. 
 May I taste it, ma am ? 
 
 " The woman sliced off a thin corner, and presented it 
 to him on the knife. 
 
 " Delicious ! he exclaimed ; I am right, this is the 
 True Food. Give me two pounds and the crackers, 
 ma am. 
 
 " I turned away, quite as much disgusted as amused 
 with this charlatanism. And yet I verily believe the fellow 
 was sincere self-deluded only. I had by this time lost 
 my faith in him, though not in the great Arcadian princi 
 ples. On reaching home, after an hour s walk, I found 
 
220 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 our household in unusual commotion. Abel was writhing 
 in intense pain : he had eaten the whole two pounds of 
 cheese, on his way home ! His stomach, so weakened b) 
 years of unhealthy abstinence from true nourishment, was 
 now terribly tortured by this sudden stimulus. Mrs. Shell- 
 drake, fortunately, had some mustard among her stores, 
 and could therefore administer a timely emetic. His life 
 was saved, but he was very ill for two or three days. Hol- 
 lins did not fail to take advantage of this circumstance to 
 overthrow the authority which Abel had gradually acquired 
 on the subject of food. He was so arrogant in his nature 
 that he could not tolerate the same quality in another, 
 even where their views coincided. 
 
 " By this time several weeks had passed away. It was 
 the beginning of July, and the long summer heats had 
 come. I was driven out of my attic during the middle hours 
 of the day, and the others found it pleasanter on the doubly 
 shaded stoop than in their chambers. We were thus 
 thrown more together than usual a circumstance which 
 made our life more monotonous to the others, as I could 
 see ; but to myself, who could at last talk to Eunice, and 
 who was happy at the very sight of her, this heated term 
 seemed borrowed from Elysium. I read aloud, and the 
 sound of my own voice gave me confidence ; many passa 
 ges suggested discussions, in which I took a part ; and you 
 may judge, Ned, how fast I got on, from the fact that I 
 ventured to tell Eunice of my fish-bakes with Perkins, and 
 invite her to join them. After that, she also often disap 
 peared from sight for an hour or two in the afternoon." 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 221 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Johnson," interrupted Mrs. Billings, 
 
 " it wasn t for the fish ! " 
 
 " Of course not," said her husband ; " it was for m) 
 sake." 
 
 " No, you need not think it was for you. Enos," she 
 added, perceiving the feminine dilemma into which she 
 had been led, " all this is not necessary to the story." 
 
 " Stop ! " he answered. " The A. C. has been re 
 vived for this night only. Do you remember our plat 
 form, or rather no-platform ? I must follow my impulses, 
 and say whatever comes uppermost." 
 
 " Right, Enos," said Mr. Johnson ; " I, as temporary 
 Arcadian, take the same ground. My instinct tells me 
 that you, Mrs. Billings, must permit the confession." 
 
 She submitted with a good grace, and her husband 
 continued : 
 
 " I said that our lazy life during the hot weather had 
 become a little monotonous. The Arcadian plan had 
 worked tolerably well, on the whole, for there was very little 
 for any one to do Mrs. Shelldrake and. Perkins Brown 
 excepted. Our conversation, however, lacked spirit and 
 variety. We were, perhaps unconsciously, a little tired 
 of hearing and assenting to the same sentiments. But 
 one evening, about this time, Rollins struck upon a vari 
 ation, the consequences of which he little foresaw. We 
 had been reading one of Bulwers works (the weather 
 was too hot for Psychology), and came upon this para 
 graph, or something like it : 
 
 " Ah, Behind the Veil ! We see the summer smile 
 
222 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 of the Earth enamelled meadow and limpid stream, 
 but what hides she in her sunless heart ? Caverns of ser 
 pents, or grottoes of priceless gems ? Youth, whose soul 
 sits on thy countenance, thyself wearing no mask, strive 
 not to lift the masks of others ! Be content with what 
 thou seest; and wait until Time and Experience shall 
 teach thee to find jealousy behind the sweet smile, and 
 hatred under the honeyed word ! 
 
 " This seemed to us a dark and bitter reflection ; but 
 one or another of us recalled some illustration of human 
 hypocrisy, and the evidences, by the simple fact of repeti 
 tion, gradually led to a division of opinion Rollins, 
 Shelldrake, and Miss Ringtop on the dark side, and the 
 rest of us on the bright. The last, however, contented 
 herself with quoting from her favorite poet, Gamaliel J. 
 Gawthrop : 
 
 " I look beyond thy brow s concealment ! 
 I see thy spirit s dark revealment ! 
 Thy inner self betrayed I see : 
 Thy coward, craven, shivering ME ! 
 
 " * We think we know one another, exclaimed Rol 
 lins ; but do we ? We see the faults of others, their 
 weaknesses, their disagreeable qualities, and we keep 
 silent. How much we should gain, were candor as uni 
 versal as concealment ! Then each one, seeing himself 
 as others see him, would truly know himself. How much 
 misunderstanding might be avoided how much hidden 
 shame be removed hopeless, because unspoken, love 
 made glad honest admiration cheer its object uttered 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 22$ 
 
 sympathy mitigate misfortune in short, how much brightei 
 and happier the world would become if each one express 
 ed, everywhere and at all times, his true and entire feeling ! 
 Why, even Evil would lose half its power ! 
 
 " There seemed to be so much practical wisdom in 
 these views that we were all dazzled and half-convinced 
 at the start. So, when Hollins, turning towards me, as 
 he continued, exclaimed Come, why should not this 
 candor be adopted in our Arcadia ? Will any one will 
 you, Enos commence at once by telling me now to my 
 face my principal faults ? I answered after a moment s 
 reflection You have a great deal of intellectual arro 
 gance, and you are, physically, very indolent. 
 
 " He did not flinch from the self-invited test, though 
 he looked a little surprised. 
 
 " Well put, said he, though I do not say that you 
 are entirely correct. Now, what are my merits ? 
 
 " You are clear-sighted, I answered, an earnest 
 seeker after truth, and courageous in the avowal of your 
 thoughts. 
 
 " This restored the balance, and we soon began to 
 confess our own private faults and weaknesses. Though 
 the confessions did not go very deep, no one betraying 
 anything we did not all know already, yet they were suf 
 ficient to strength Hollins in his new idea, and it was 
 unanimously resolved that Candor should thenceforth be 
 the main charm of our Arcadian life. It was the very thing 
 / wanted, in order to make a certain communication to 
 Eunice ; but I should probably never have reached the 
 
224 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 point, had not the same candor been exercised towards 
 me, from a quarter where I least expected it. 
 
 " The next day, Abel, who had resumed his researches 
 after the True Food, came home to supper with a healthiei 
 color than I had before seen on his face. 
 
 " Do you know, said he, looking shyly at Hollins, 
 1 that I begin to think Beer must be a natural beverage ? 
 There was an auction in the village to-day, as I passed 
 through, and I stopped at a cake-stand to get a glass of 
 water, as it was very hot. There was no water only 
 beer : so I thought I would try a glass, simply as an ex 
 periment. Really, the flavor was very agreeable. And 
 it occurred to me, on the way home, that all the elements 
 contained in beer are vegetable. Besides, fermentation 
 is a natural process. I think the question has never been 
 properly tested before/ 
 
 " But the alcohol ! exclaimed Hollins. 
 
 " I could not distinguish any, either by taste or smell. 
 A know that chemical analysis is said to show it ; but may 
 not the alcohol be created, somehow, during the analysis? 
 
 " Abel, said Hollins, in a fresh burst of candor, 
 you will never be a Reformer, until you possess some of 
 the commonest elements of knowledge. 
 
 " The rest of us were much diverted : it was a pleasant 
 relief to our monotonous amiability. 
 
 " Abel, however, had a stubborn streak in his charac 
 ter. The next day he sent Perkins Brown to Bridgeport 
 for a dozen bottles of Beer. Perkins, either intention 
 ally or by mistake, (I always suspected the former,) 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 22$ 
 
 brought pint-bottles of Scotch ale, which he placed in the 
 coolest part of the cellar. The evening happened to be 
 exceedingly hot and sultry, and, as we were all fanning 
 ourselves and talking languidly, Abel bethought him of 
 his beer. In his thirst, he drank the contents of the first 
 bottle, almost at a single draught 
 
 " The effect of beer, said he, depends, I think, on 
 the commixture of the nourishing principle of the grain 
 with the cooling properties of the water. Perhaps, here 
 after, a liquid food of the same character may be invented, 
 which shall save us from mastication and all the diseases 
 of the teeth. 
 
 " Hollins and Shelldrake, at his invitation, divided a 
 bottle between them, and he took a second. The potent 
 beverage was not long in acting on a brain so unaccus 
 tomed to its influence. He grew unusually talkative and 
 sentimental, in a few minutes. 
 
 " Oh, sing, somebody ! he sighed in a hoarse rap 
 ture : the night was made for Song. 
 
 " Miss Ringtop, nothing loath, immediately commen 
 ced, When stars are in the quiet skies; but scarcely 
 had she finished the first verse before Abel interrupted 
 her. 
 
 " Candor s the order of the day, isn t it ? he asked. 
 
 " Yes ! < Yes ! two or three answered. 
 
 * Well then, said he, candidly, Pauline, you ve got 
 the darn dest squeaky voice J 
 
 " Miss Ringtop gave a faint little scream of horror. 
 
 u Oh, never mind ! he continued. We act according 
 10* 
 
226 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 to impulse, don t we ? And I ve the impulse to swear 
 and it s right. Let Nature have her way. Listen/ 
 Damn, damn, damn, damn 1 I never knew it was so 
 easy. Why, there s a pleasure in it 1 Try it, Pauline ! try 
 it on me ! 
 
 " * Oh-ooh ! was all Miss Ringtop could utter. 
 
 " Abel ! Abel ! exclaimed Rollins, the beer has 
 got into your head. 
 
 " No, it isn t Beer, it s Candor! said Abel. It s 
 your own proposal, Hollins. Suppose it s evil to swear : 
 isn t it better I should express it, and be done with it, 
 than keep it bottled up to ferment in my mind ? Oh, 
 you re a precious, consistent old humbug, you are ! 
 
 " And therewith he jumped off the stoop, and went 
 dancing awkwardly down towards the water, singing in a 
 most unmelodious voice, Tis home where er the heart 
 is. 
 
 " Oh, he may fall into the water 1 exclaimed Eunice, 
 in alarm. 
 
 " He s not fool enough to do that/ said Shelldrake. 
 His head is a little light, that s all. The air will cool 
 him down presently. 
 
 But she arose and followed him, not satisfied with this 
 assurance. Miss Ringtop sat rigidly still. She would 
 have received with composure the news of his drowning. 
 
 " As Eunice s white dress disappeared among the ce 
 dars crowning the shore, I sprang up and ran after her. 
 I knew that Abel was not intoxicated, but simply excited, 
 and I had no fear on his account : I obeyed an involun- 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 22; 
 
 tary impulse. On approaching the water, I heard theii 
 voices hers in friendly persuasion, his in sentimental 
 entreaty, then the sound of oars in the row-locks. Look 
 ing out from the last clump of cedars, I saw them seated 
 in the boat, Eunice at the stern, while Abel, facing her, 
 just dipped an oar now and then to keep from drifting 
 with the tide. She had found him already in the boat ; 
 which was loosely chained to a stone. Stepping on one 
 of the forward thwarts in her eagerness to persuade him 
 to return, he sprang past her, jerked away the chain, and 
 pushed off before she could escape. She would have 
 fallen, but he caught her and placed her in the stern, and 
 then seated himself at the oars. She must have been some 
 what alarmed, but there was only indignation in her voice. 
 All this had transpired before my arrival, and the first words 
 I heard bound me to the spot and kept me silent. 
 " Abel, what does this mean ? she asked 
 " It means Fate Destiny ! he exclaimed, rather 
 wildly. Ah, Eunice, ask the night, and the moon, ask 
 the impulse which told you to follow me ! Let us be can 
 did like the old Arcadians we imitate. Eunice, we know 
 that we love each other : why should we conceal it any 
 longer ? The Angel of Love comes down from the stars 
 on his azure wings, and whispers to our hearts. Let us 
 confess to each other ! The female heart should not be 
 timid, in this pure and beautiful atmosphere of Love 
 which we breathe. Come, Eunice ! we are alone : let 
 your heart speak to me ! 
 
 " Ned, if you ve ever been in love, (we ll talk of that 
 
228 TALES OF HOME 
 
 after a while,) you will easily understand what tortures J 
 endured, in thus hearing him speak. That he should love 
 Eunice ! It was a profanation to her, an outrage to me. 
 Yet the assurance with which he spoke ! Could she love 
 this conceited, ridiculous, repulsive fellow, after all ? I 
 almost gasped for breath, as I clinched the prickly boughs 
 of the cedars in my hands, and set my teeth, waiting to 
 hear her answer. 
 
 " I will not hear such language ! Take me back to 
 the shore ! she said, in very short, decided tones. 
 
 " Oh, Eunice, he groaned, (and now, I think he was 
 perfectly sober,) don t you love me, indeed ? / love you, 
 -from my heart I do : yes, I love you. Tell me how 
 you feel towards me. 
 
 " * Abel, said she, earnestly, I feel towards you only 
 as a friend ; and if you wish me to retain a friendly inter 
 est in you, you must never again talk in this manner. I 
 do not love you, and I never shall. Let me go back to 
 the house. 
 
 " His head dropped upon his breast, but he rowed back 
 to the shore, drew the bow upon the rocks, and assisted 
 her to land. Then, sitting down, he groaned forth - 
 
 " * Oh, Eunice, you have broken my heart ! and put 
 ting his big hands to his face, began to cry. 
 
 " She turned, placed one hand on his shoulder, and 
 said in a calm, but kind tone 
 
 " I am very sorry, Abel, but I cannot help it. 
 
 " I slipped aside, that she might not see me, and we 
 returned by separate paths. 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 229 
 
 " I slept very little that night. The conviction which 
 I chased away from my mind as often as it returned, that 
 our Arcadian experiment was taking a ridiculous and at 
 the same time impracticable development, became clearei 
 and stronger. I felt sure that our little community could 
 not hold together much longer without an explosion. I 
 had a presentiment that Eunice shared my impressions 
 My feelings towards her had reached that crisis where n 
 declaration was imperative : but how to make it ? It wa c 
 a terrible struggle between my shyness and my affection 
 There was another circumstance in connection with this 
 subject, which troubled me not a little. Miss Ringtop 
 evidently sought my company, and made me, as much as 
 possible, the recipient of her sentimental outpourings. I 
 was not bold enough to repel her indeed I had none of 
 that tact which is so useful in such emergencies, and she 
 seemed to misinterpret my submission. Not only was 
 her conversation pointedly directed to me, but she looked 
 at me, when singing, (especially, * Thou, thou, reign st in 
 this bosom ! ) in a way that made me feel very uncom 
 fortable. What if Eunice should suspect an attachment 
 towards her, on my part. What if oh, horror ! I had 
 unconsciously said or done something to impress Miss 
 Ringtop herseif with the same conviction ? I shuddered 
 as the thought crossed my mind. One thing was very 
 certain : this suspense was not to be endured much 
 longer. 
 
 "We had an unusually silent breakfast the next morn 
 ing. Abel scarcely spoke, which the others attributed to 
 
230 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 a natural feeling of shame, after his display of the pre 
 vious evening. Hollins and Shelldrake discussed Tem 
 perance, with a special view to his edification, and Misg 
 Ringtop favored us with several quotations about the 
 maddening bowl, but he paid no attention to them. 
 Eunice was pale and thoughtful. I had no doubt in my 
 mind, that she was already contemplating a removal from 
 Arcadia. Perkins, whose perceptive faculties were by no 
 means dull, whispered to me, Shan t I bring up some 
 porgies for supper ? but I shook my head. I was busy 
 with other thoughts, and did not join him in the wood, 
 that day. 
 
 "The forenoon was overcast, with frequent showers. 
 Each one occupied his or her room until dinner-time, 
 when we met again with something of the old geniality. 
 There was an evident effort to restore our former flow of 
 good feeling. Abel s experience with the beer was freely 
 discussed. He insisted strongly that he had not been 
 laboring under its effects, and proposed a mutual test. He, 
 Shelldrake, and Hollins were to drink it in equal meas 
 ures, and compare observations as to their physical sensa 
 tions. The others agreed, quite willingly, I thought, 
 but I refused. I had determined to make a desperate at 
 tempt at candor, and Abel s fate was fresh before my 
 eyes. 
 
 " My nervous agitation increased during the day, and 
 after sunset, fearing lest I should betray my excitement 
 in some way, I walked down to the end of the promon 
 tory, and took a seat on the rocks. The sky had cleared 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE AC. 231 
 
 and the air was deliciously cool and sweet. The Sound 
 was spread out before me like a sea, for the Long Island 
 shore was veiled in a silvery mist. My mind was soothed 
 and calmed by the influences of the scene, until the moon 
 arose. Moonlight, you know, disturbs at least, when 
 one is in love. (Ah, Ned, I see you understand it !) I 
 felt blissfully miserable, ready to cry with joy at the 
 knowledge that I loved, and with fear and vexation at my 
 cowardice, at the same time. 
 
 " Suddenly I heard a rustling beside me. Every nerve 
 in my body tingled, and I turned my head, with a beating 
 and expectant heart. Pshaw ! It was Miss Ringtop, 
 who spread her blue dress on the rock beside me, and 
 shook back her long curls, and sighed, as she gazed at the 
 silver path of the moon on the water. 
 
 " Oh, how delicious ! she cried. How it seems to 
 set the spirit free, and we wander off on the wings of 
 Fancy to other spheres ! 
 
 " * Yes/ said I, It is very beautiful, but sad, when one 
 is alone. 
 
 " I was thinking of Eunice. 
 
 " Fow inadequate, she continued, * is language to ex 
 press the emotions which such a scene calls up in the 
 bosom ! Poetry alone is the voice of the spiritual world, 
 and we, who are not poets, must borrow the language of 
 the gifted sons of Song. Oh, Enos, I wish you were a 
 poet ! But you fee/ poetry, I know you do. I have seen 
 it in your eyes, when I quoted the burning lines of Adeli- 
 za Kelley, or the soul-breathings of Gamaliel J. Gawthrop 
 
232 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 In him> particularly, I find the voice of my own nature 
 Do you know his Night-Whispers ? How it embodies 
 the feelings of such a scene as this 1 
 
 Star-drooping bowers bending down the spaces, 
 And moonlit glories sweep star-footed on ; 
 And pale, sweet rivers, in their shining races, 
 Are ever gliding through the moonlit places, 
 With silver ripples on their tranced faces, 
 And forests clasp their dusky hands, with low and sullen 
 moan ! 
 
 " Ah ! she continued, as I made no reply, this is an 
 hour for the soul to unveil its most secret chambers! 
 Do you not think, Enos, that love rises superior to all 
 conventionalities? that those whose souls are in unison 
 should be allowed to reveal themselves to each other, re 
 gardless of the world s opinions ? 
 
 " Yes! said I, earnestly. 
 
 " Enos, do you understand me ? she asked, in a ten 
 der voice almost a whisper. 
 
 " Yes, said I, with a blushing confidence of my own 
 passion. 
 
 " Then, she whispered, our hearts are wholly in uni 
 son. I know you are true, Enos. I know your noble na 
 ture, and I will never doubt you. This is indeed happi 
 ness ! 
 
 "And therewith she laid her head on my shoulder, 
 and sighed 
 
 " Life remits his tortures cruel, 
 Love illumes his fairest fuel, 
 When the hearts that once were dual 
 Meet as one, in sweet renewal ! 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 233 
 
 " Miss Ringtop ! I cried, starting away from her, in 
 alarm, you don t mean that that 
 " I could not finish the sentence. 
 " Yes, Enos, dear Enos ! henceforth we belong to 
 each other. 
 
 " The painful embarrassment I felt, as her true mean 
 ing shot through my mind, surpassed anything I had im 
 agined, or experienced in anticipation, when planning how 
 I should declare myself to Eunice. Miss Ringtop was at 
 least ten years older than I, far from handsome (but you 
 remember her face,) and so affectedly sentimental, that I, 
 sentimental as I was then, was sick of hearing her talk. 
 Her hallucination was so monstrous, and gave me such a 
 shock of desperate alarm, that I spoke, on the impulse of 
 the moment, with great energy, without regarding how her 
 feelings might be wounded. 
 
 " You mistake ! I exclaimed. c I didn t mean that, 
 I didn t understand you. Don t talk to me that way, 
 don t look at me in that way, Miss Ringtop ! We were 
 
 never meant for each other I wasn t You re so 
 
 much older I mean different. It can t be no, it can 
 never be ! Let us go back to the house : the night is 
 cold. 
 
 " I rose hastily to my feet. She murmured something, 
 what, I did not stay to hear, but, plunging through 
 the cedars, was hurrying with all speed to the house, when, 
 half-way up the lawn, beside one of the rocky knobs, I 
 met Eunice, who was apparently on her way to join us. 
 In my excited mood, after the ordeal through which I had 
 
234 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 just passed, everything seemed easy. My usual timidity 
 was blown to the four winds. I went directly to her, took 
 her hand, and said 
 
 " * Eunice, the others are driving me mad with theii 
 candor ; will you let me be candid, too ? 
 
 " * I think you are always candid, Enos, she an 
 swered. 
 
 " Even then, if I had hesitated, I should have been 
 lost But I went on, without pausing 
 
 * * Eunice, I love you I have loved you since we first 
 met I came here that I might be near you ; but I must 
 leave you forever, and to-night, unless you can trust youi 
 life in my keeping. God help me, since we have been to 
 gether I have lost my faith in almost everything but you. 
 Pardon me, if I am impetuous different from what I 
 have seemed. I have struggled so hard to speak ! I have 
 been a coward, Eunice, because of my love. But now I 
 have spoken, from my heart of hearts. Look at me : I 
 can bear it now. Read the truth in my eyes, before you 
 answer. 
 
 " I felt her hand tremble while I spoke. As she 
 turned towards me her face, which had been averted, the 
 moon shone full upon it, and I saw that tears were upon 
 her cheeks. What was said whether anything was said 
 I cannot tell. I felt the blessed fact, and that was 
 enough. That was the dawning of the true Arcadia." 
 
 Mrs. Billings, who had been silent during this re 
 cital, took her husband s hand and smiled. Mr. Johnson 
 felt a dull pang about the region of his heart. If he had 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 235 
 
 a secret, however, I do not feel justified in betra) T 
 ing it. 
 
 " It was late," Mr. Billings continued, " before we re 
 turned to the house. I had a special dread of again en 
 countering Miss Ringtop, but she was wandering up and 
 down the bluff, under the pines, singing, * The dream is 
 past. There was a sound of loud voices, as we approach 
 ed the stoop. Hollins, Shelldrake and his wife, and Abel 
 Mallory were sitting together near the door. Perkins 
 Brown, as usual, was crouched on the lowest step, with one 
 leg over the other, and rubbing the top of his boot with a 
 vigor which betrayed to me some secret mirth. He look 
 ed up at me from under his straw hat with the grin of a 
 malicious Puck, glanced towards the group, and made a 
 curious gesture with his thumb. There were several 
 empty pint-bottles on the stoop. 
 
 " Now, are you sure you can bear the test ? we heard 
 Hollins ask, as we approached. 
 
 " Bear it ? Why to be sure ! replied Shelldrake ; if 
 I couldn t bear it, or if you couldn t, your theory s done 
 for. Try ! I can stand it as long as you can. 
 
 " * Well, then, said Hollins, * I think you are a very 
 ordinary man. I Derive no intellectual benefit from my 
 intercourse with you, but your house is convenient to me. 
 I m under no obligations for your hospitality, however, 
 because my company is an advantage to you. Indeed if 
 I were treated according to my deserts, you couldn t do 
 enough for me. 
 
 " Mrs. Shelldrake was up in arms. 
 
236 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Indeed, she exclaimed, * I think you get as good 
 as you deserve, and more too. 
 
 " * Elvira, said he, with a benevolent condescension, 
 I have no doubt you think so, for your mind belongs to 
 the lowest and most material sphere. You have youi 
 place in Nature, and you fill it ; but it is not for you to 
 judge of intelligences which move only on the upper 
 planes. 
 
 " * Rollins, said Shelldrake, < Elviry s a good wife 
 and a sensible woman, and I won t allow you to turn up 
 your nose at her. 
 
 " I am not surprised, he answered, * that you should 
 fail to stand the test. I didn t expect it. 
 
 " Let me try it on you \ cried Shelldrake. You, 
 now, have some intellect, I don t deny that, but not so 
 much, by a long shot, as you think you have. Besides 
 that, you re awfully selfish in your opinions. You won t 
 admit that anybody can be right who differs from you. 
 You ve sponged on me for a long time ; but I suppose I ve 
 learned something from you, so we ll call it even. I think, 
 however, that what you call acting according to impulse is 
 simply an excuse to cover your own laziness. 
 
 " Gosh ! that s it ! interrupted Perkins, jumping up ; 
 then, recollecting himself, he sank down on the steps 
 again, and shook with a suppressed Ho ! ho ! ho 
 
 " Hollins, however, drew himself up with an exasper 
 ated ah-. 
 
 " Shelldrake, said he, I pity you. I always knew 
 your ignorance, but I thtught you honest in your human 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 237 
 
 character. I never suspected you of envy and malice. 
 However, the true Reformer must expect to be misunder 
 stood and misrepresented by meaner minds. That lovt 
 which I bear to all creatures teaches me to forgive you. 
 Without such love, all plans of progress must fail. Is it 
 not so, Abel ? 
 
 " Shelldrake could only ejaculate the words, f Pity ! 
 Forgive ? in his most contemptuous tone ; while Mrs. 
 Shelldrake, rocking violently in her chair, gave utterance 
 to that peculiar clucking, ts, ts, ts, /j, 1 whereby certain 
 women express emotions too deep for words. 
 
 " Abel, roused by Hollins s question, answered, with 
 a sudden energy 
 
 " Love ! there is no love in the world. Where will 
 you find it? Tell me, and I ll go there. Love ! I d like 
 to see it ! If all human hearts were like mine, we might 
 have an Arcadia ; but most men have no hearts. The 
 world is a miserable, hollow, deceitful shell of vanity and 
 hypocrisy. No : let us give up. We were born before 
 our time : this age is not worthy of us. 
 
 " Hollins stared at the speaker in utter amazement; 
 Shelldrake gave a long whistle, and finally gasped out 
 
 "< Well, what next? 
 
 " None of us were prepared for such a sudden and 
 complete wreck of our Arcadian scheme. The founda 
 tions had been sapped before, it is true ; but we had not 
 perceived it ; and now, in two short days, the whole edi 
 fice tumbled about our ears. Though it was inevitable, 
 we felt a shock of sorrow, and a silence fell upon us 
 
 or THE . 
 UNIVERSltY 
 
238 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Only that scamp of a Perkins Brown, chuckling and rub 
 bing his boot, really rejoiced. I could have kicked him. 
 
 " We all went to bed, feeling that the charm of our Ar 
 cadian life was over. I was so full of the new happiness 
 of love that I was scarcely conscious of regret. I seemed 
 to have leaped at once into responsible manhood, and a 
 glad rush of courage filled me at the knowledge that my 
 own heart was a better oracle than those now so shame 
 fully overthrown on whom I had so long implicitly relied. 
 In the first revulsion of feeling, I was perhaps unjust to 
 my associates. I see now, more clearly, the causes of 
 those vagaries, which originated in a genuine aspiration, 
 and failed from an ignorance of the true nature of Man, 
 quite as much as from the egotism of the individuals. 
 Other attempts at reorganizing Society were made about 
 the same time by men of culture and experience, but in 
 the A. C. we had neither. Our leaders had caught a few 
 half-truths, which, in their minds, were speedily warped 
 into errors. I can laugh over the absurdities I helped to 
 perpetrate, but I must confess that the experiences oi 
 those few weeks went far towards making a man of me." 
 
 " Did the A. C. break up at once ? " asked Mr. John 
 son. 
 
 " Not precisely ; though Eunice and I left the house 
 within two days, as we had agreed. We were not married 
 immediately however. Three long years years of hope 
 and mutual encouragement passed away before that hap 
 py consummation. Before our departure, Hollins had 
 fallen into his old manner, convinced, apparently, that 
 
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C. 239 
 
 Candor must be postponed to a better age of the world. 
 But the quarrel rankled in Shelldrake s mind, and espe 
 cially in that of his wife. I could see by her looks and 
 little fidgety ways that his further stay would be very in 
 comfortable. Abel Mallory, finding himself gaining in 
 weight and improving in color, had no thought of return 
 ing. The day previous, as I afterwards learned, he had 
 discovered Perkins Brown s secret kitchen in the woods. 
 
 " ( Golly ! said that youth, in describing the circum 
 stance to me, I had to ketch two porgies that day. 
 
 " Miss Ringtop, who must have suspected the new re 
 lation between Eunice and myself, was for the most part 
 rigidly silent. If she quoted, it was from the darkest and 
 dreariest utterances of her favorite Gamaliel. 
 
 " What happened after our departure I learned from 
 Perkins, on the return of the Shelldrakes to Norridge- 
 port, in September. Mrs. Shelldrake stoutly persisted in 
 refusing to make Hollins s bed, or to wash his shirts. Her 
 brain was dull, to be sure ; but she was therefore all the 
 more stubborn in her resentment. He bore this state of 
 things for about a week, when his engagements to lecture 
 in Ohio suddenly called him away. Abel and Miss Ring- 
 top were left to wander about the promontory in company, 
 and to exchange lamentations on the hollowness of human 
 hopes or the pleasures of despair. Whether it was owing 
 to that attraction of sex which would make any man and 
 any woman, thrown together on a desert island, finally be 
 come mates, or whether she skilfully ministered to Abel s 
 sentimental vanity, I will not undertake to decide : but 
 
240 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the fact is, they were actually betrothed, on leaving Area 
 dia. I think he would willingly have retreated, after his 
 return to the world ; but that was not so easy. Miss 
 Ringtop held him with an inexorable clutch. They were 
 not married, however, until just before his departure for 
 California, whither she afterwards followed him. She 
 died in less than a year, and left him free." 
 
 " And what became of the other Arcadians ? " asked 
 Mr. Johnson. 
 
 "The Shelldrakes are still living in Norridgeport 
 They have become Spiritualists, I understand, and culti 
 vate Mediums. Hollins, when I last heard of him, was a 
 Deputy-Surveyor in the New York Custom-House. Per 
 kins Brown is our butcher here in Waterbury, and he often 
 asks me Do you take chloride of soda on your beef 
 steaks ? He is as fat as a prize ox, and the father of five 
 children." 
 
 " Enos ! " exclaimed Mrs. Billings, looking at the 
 clock, " it s nearly midnight I Mr. Johnson must be very 
 tired, after such a long story. The Chapter of the A. C. 
 is hereby closed I " 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 
 
 HE mild May afternoon was draw 
 ing to a close, as Friend Eli Mitch- 
 enor reached the top of the long 
 hill, and halted a few minutes, to 
 allow his horse time to recover 
 breath. He also heaved a sigh of 
 satisfaction, as he saw again the green, undulating val 
 ley of the Neshaminy, with its dazzling squares of 
 young wheat, its brown patches of corn-land, its snowy 
 masses of blooming orchard, and the huge, fountain- 
 like jets of weeping willow, half concealing the gray 
 stone fronts of the farm-houses. He had been ab 
 sent from home only six days, but the time seemed almost 
 as long to him as a three years cruise to a New Bedford 
 whaleman. The peaceful seclusion and pastoral beauty 
 of the scene did not consciously appeal to his senses j but 
 he quietly noted how much the wheat had grown during 
 his absence, that the oats were up and looking well, that 
 Friend Comly s meadow had been ploughed, and Friend 
 Martin had built his half of the line-fence along the top 
 of the hill-field. If any smothered delight in the loveliness 
 ii 
 
243 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 of the spring-time found a hiding-place anywhere in the 
 well-ordered chambers of his heart, it never relaxed 01 
 softened the straight, inflexible lines of his face. As eas 
 ily could his collarless drab coat and waistcoat have 
 flushed with a sudden gleam of purple or crimson. 
 
 Eli Mitchenor was at peace with himself and the 
 world that is, so much of the world as he acknowl 
 edged. Beyond the community of his own sect, and 
 a few personal friends who were privileged to live 
 on its borders, he neither knew nor cared to know 
 much more of the human race than if it belonged to a 
 planet farther from the sun. In the discipline of the 
 Friends he was perfect ; he was privileged to sit on the 
 high seats, with the elders of the Society ; and the trav 
 elling brethren from other States, who visited Bucks 
 County, invariably blessed his house with a family-meet 
 ing. His farm was one of the best on the banks of the 
 Neshaminy, and he also enjoyed the annual interest of a 
 few thousand dollars, carefully secured by mortgages on 
 real estate. His wife, Abigail, kept even pace with him 
 in the consideration she enjoyed within the limits of the 
 sect j and his two children, Moses and Asenath, vindicated 
 the paternal training by the strictest sobriety of dress and 
 conduct. Moses wore the plain coat, even when his ways 
 led him among " the world s people ; " and Asenath had 
 never been known to wear, or to express a desire for, a 
 ribbon of a brighter tint than brown or fawn-color. Friend 
 Mitchenor had thus gradually ripened to his sixtieth year 
 in an atmosphere of life utterly placid and serene, and 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 243 
 
 looked forward with confidence to the final change, as a 
 translation into a deeper calm, a serener quiet, a prosper 
 ous eternity of mild voices, subdued colors, and suppressed 
 emotions. 
 
 He was returning home, in his own old-fashioned 
 " chair " with its heavy square canopy and huge curved 
 springs, from the Yearly Meeting of the Hicksite Friends, 
 in Philadelphia. The large bay farm-horse, slow and 
 grave in his demeanor, wore his plain harness with an air 
 which made him seem, among his fellow-horses, the coun 
 terpart of his master among men. He would no more 
 have thought of kicking than the latter would of swearing 
 a huge oath. Even now, when the top of the hill was 
 gained, and he knew that he was within a mile of the sta 
 ble which had been his home since colthood, he showed 
 no undue haste or impatience, but waited quietly, until 
 Friend Mitchenor, by a well-known jerk of the lines, gave 
 him the signal to go on. Obedient to the motion, he there 
 upon set forward once more, jogging soberly down the 
 eastern slope of the hill, across the covered bridge, 
 where, in spite of the tempting level of the hollow-sound 
 ing floor, he was as careful to abstain from trotting as if 
 he had read the warning notice, along the wooded edge 
 of the green meadow, where several cows of his acquaint 
 ance were grazing, and finally, wheeling around at the 
 proper angle, halted squarely in front of the gate which 
 gave entrance to the private lane. 
 
 The old stone house in front, the spring-house in a 
 green little hollow just below it, the walled garden, with 
 
244 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 its clumps of box and lilac, and the vast barn on the left 
 all joining in expressing a silent welcome to their owner, 
 as he drove up the lane. Moses, a man of twenty-five, 
 left his work in the garden, and walked forward in his 
 shirt-sleeves. 
 
 " Well, father, how does thee do ? " was his quiet greet 
 ing, as they shook hands. 
 
 " How s mother, by this time ? " asked Eli. 
 
 " Oh, thee needn t have been concerned," said the son. 
 " There she is. Go in : I ll tend to the horse." 
 
 Abigail and her daughter appeared on the piazza. The 
 mother was a woman of fifty, thin and delicate in frame, 
 but with a smooth, placid beauty of countenance which had 
 survived her youth. She was dressed in a simple dove- 
 colored gown, with book-muslin cap and handkerchief, so 
 scrupulously arranged that one might have associated with 
 her for six months without ever discovering a spot on the 
 former, or an uneven fold in the latter. Asenath, who fol 
 lowed, was almost as plainly attired, her dress being a 
 dark-blue calico, while a white pasteboard sun-bonnet, with 
 broad cape, covered her head. 
 
 " Well, Abigail, how art thou ? " said Eli, quietly giv 
 ing his hand to his wife. 
 
 " I m glad to see thee back," was her simple welcom? 
 
 No doubt they had kissed each other as lovers, but 
 Asenath had witnessed this manifestation of affection but 
 once in her life after the burial of a younger sister. The 
 fact impressed her with a peculiar sense of sanctity and 
 solemnity : it was a caress wrung forth by a season of trib- 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 245 
 
 ulation, and therefore was too earnest to be profaned to 
 the uses of joy. So far, therefore, from expecting a pa 
 ternal embrace, she would have felt, had it been given, 
 like the doomed daughter of the Gileadite, consecrated to 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Both she and her mother were anxious to hear the pro 
 ceedings of the meeting, and to receive personal news of 
 the many friends whom Eli had seen ; but they asked few 
 questions until the supper-table was ready and Moses had 
 come in from the barn. The old man enjoyed talking, 
 but it must be in his own way and at his own good time. 
 They must wait until the communicative spirit should 
 move him. With the first cup of coffee the inspiration 
 came. Hovering at first over indifferent details, he gradu 
 ally approached those of more importance, told of the ad 
 dresses which had been made, the points of discipline dis 
 cussed, the testimony borne, and the appearance and gene 
 alogy of any new Friends who had taken a prominent part 
 therein. Finally, at the close of his relation, he said 
 
 " Abigail, there is one thing I must talk to thee about 
 Friend Speakman s partner, perhaps thee s heard of him, 
 Richard Hilton, has a son who is weakly. He s two or 
 three years younger than Moses. His mother w*as con 
 sumptive, and they re afraid he takes after her. His father 
 wants to send Jiim into the country for the summer to 
 some place where he ll have good air, and quiet, and moder 
 ate exercise, and Friend Speakman spoke of us. I thought 
 I d mention it to thee, and if thee thinks well of it, we can 
 send word down next week, when Josiah Comly goes." 
 
246 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 "What does thee think ? " asked his wife, after a pause 
 
 " He s a very quiet, steady young man, Friend Speak- 
 man says, and would be very little trouble to thee. I 
 thought perhaps his board would buy the new yoke of 
 oxen we must have in the fall, and the price of the fat 
 ones might go to help set up Moses. But it s for thee to 
 decide." 
 
 " I suppose we could take him," said Abigail, seeing 
 that the decision was virtually made already ; " there s the 
 corner room, which we don t often use. Only, if he should 
 get worse on our hands " 
 
 " Friend Speakman says there s no danger. He is 
 only weak-breasted, as yet, and clerking isn t good for 
 him. I saw the young man at the store. If his looks 
 don t belie him, he s well-behaved and orderly." 
 
 So it was settled that Richard Hilton the younger was 
 to be an inmate of Friend Mitchenor s house during the 
 summer. 
 
 II. 
 
 AT the end of ten days he came. 
 
 In the under-sized, earnest, dark-haired and dark-eyed 
 young man of three-and- twenty, Abigail Mitchenor at 
 once felt a motherly interest. Having received him as a 
 temporary member of the family, she considered him en 
 titled to the same watchful care as if he were in reality an 
 invalid son. The ice over an hereditary Quaker nature 
 is but a thin crust, if one knows how to break it ; and in 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 247 
 
 Richard Hilton s case, it was already broken before his ar 
 rival. His only embarrassment, in fact, arose from the 
 difficulty which he naturally experienced in adapting him 
 self to the speech and address of the Mitchenor family 
 The greetings of old Eli grave, yet kindly, of Abigail, 
 quaintly familiar and tender, of Moses, cordial and slight 
 ly condescending, and finally of Asenath, simple and nat 
 ural to a degree which impressed him like a new revelation 
 in woman, at once indicated to him his position among 
 them. His city manners, he felt, instinctively, must be 
 unlearned, or at least laid aside for a time. Yet it was 
 not easy for him to assume, at such short notice, those 
 of his hosts. Happening to address Asenath as " Miss 
 Mitchenor," Eli turned to him with a rebuking face. 
 
 "We do not use compliments, Richard," said he ; " my 
 daughter s name is Asenath. 
 
 " I beg pardon. I will try to accustom myself to your 
 ways, since you have been so kind as to take me for a 
 while," apologized Richard Hilton. 
 
 "Thee s under no obligation to us," said Friend Mitch 
 enor, in his strict sense of justice ; " thee pays for what 
 thee gets." 
 
 The finer feminine instinct of Abigail led her to inter 
 pose. 
 
 " We ll not expect too much of thee, at first, Richard," 
 she remarked, with a kind expression of face, which had 
 the effect of a smile : " but our ways are plain and easily 
 learned, Thee knows, perhaps, that we re no respecters 
 of persons " 
 
248 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 It was some days, however, before the young man 
 could overcome his natural hesitation at the familiarity 
 implied by these new forms of speech. " Friend Mitche 
 nor " and " Moses " were not difficult to learn, but it 
 seemed a want of respect to address as "Abigail" a wo 
 man of such sweet and serene dignity as the mother, and 
 he was fain to avoid either extreme by calling her, with hef 
 cheerful permission, " Aunt Mitchenor." On the other 
 hand, his own modest and unobtrusive nature soon won 
 the confidence and cordial regard of the family. He oc 
 casionally busied himself in the garden, by way of exer 
 cise, or accompanied Moses to the corn-field or the wood 
 land on the hill, but was careful never to interfere at inop 
 portune times, and willing to learn silently, by the simple 
 process of looking on. 
 
 One afternoon, as he was idly sitting on the stone wall 
 which separated the garden from the lane, Asenath, attired 
 in a new gown of chocolate-colored calico, with a double- 
 handled willow work-basket on her arm, issued from 
 the house. As she approached him, she paused and 
 said 
 
 "The time seems to hang heavy on thy hands, Rich 
 ard. If thee s strong enough to walk to the village and 
 back, it might do thee more good than sitting still." 
 
 Richard Hilton at once jumped down from the wall. 
 
 " Certainly I am able to go," said he, " if you will al 
 low it." 
 
 a Haven t I asked thee ? " was her quiet reply. 
 
 a Let me carry your basket," he said, suddenly, aftei 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 249 
 
 they had walked, side by side, some distance down the 
 lane. 
 
 "Indeed, I shall not let thee do that I m only going 
 for the mail, and some little things at the store, that make 
 no weight at all. Thee mustn t think I m like the young 
 women in the city, who, I m told, if they buy a spool of 
 cotton, must have it sent home to them. Besides, thee 
 mustn t over-exert thy strength." 
 
 Richard Hilton laughed merrily at the gravity with 
 which she uttered the last sentence. 
 
 " Why, Miss Asenath, I mean what am I good for; 
 if I have not strength enough to carry a basket ? " 
 
 " Thee s a man, I know, and I think a man would al 
 most as lief be thought wicked as weak. Thee can t help 
 being weakly-inclined, and it s only right that thee should 
 be careful of thyself. There s surely nothing in that that 
 thee need be ashamed of." 
 
 While thus speaking, Asenath moderated her walk, in 
 order, unconsciously to her companion, to restrain his 
 steps. 
 
 " Oh, there are the dog s-tooth violets in blossom ? " 
 she exclaimed, pointing to a shady spot beside the brook ; 
 " does thee know them ? " 
 
 Richard immediately gathered and brought to her a 
 handful of the nodding yellow bells, trembling above their 
 large, cool, spotted leaves. 
 
 " How beautiful they are ! " said he ; " but I should 
 never have taken them for violets." 
 
 " They are misnamed," she answered. * The flower is 
 
250 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 an Erythronium \ but I am accustomed to the common 
 name, and like it. Did thee ever study botany? " 
 
 " Not at all. I can tell a geranium, when I see it, 
 and I know a heliotrope by the smell. I could never mis 
 take a red cabbage for a rose, and I can recognize a hol 
 lyhock or a sunflower at a considerable distance. The 
 wild flowers are all strangers to me ; I wish I knew some 
 thing about them." 
 
 " If thee s fond of flowers, it would be very easy to 
 learn. I think a study of this kind would pleasantly oc 
 cupy thy mind. Why couldn t thee try ? I would be very 
 willing to teach thee what little I know. It s not much, 
 indeed, but all thee wants is a start. See, I will show 
 thee how simple the principles are." 
 
 Taking one of the flowers from the bunch, Asenath, 
 as they slowly walked forward, proceeded to dissect it, 
 explained the mysteries of stamens and pistils, pollen, 
 petals, and calyx, and, by the time they had reached the 
 village, had succeeded in giving him a general idea of 
 the Linnaean system of classification. His mind took 
 hold of the subject with a prompt and profound interest. 
 It was a new and wonderful world which suddenly opened 
 before him. How surprised he was to learn that there 
 were signs by which a poisonous herb could be detected 
 from a wholesome one, that cedars and pine-trees bios 
 somed, that the gray lichens on the rocks belonged to the 
 vegetable kingdom ! His respect for Asenath s knowledge 
 thrust quite out of sight the restraint which her youth and 
 sex had imposed upon him. She was teacher, equal. 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 2$1 
 
 friend ; and the simple candid manner which was the 
 natural expression of her dignity and purity thoroughly 
 harmonized with this relation. 
 
 Although, in reality, two or three years younger than 
 he, Asenath had a gravity of demeanor, a calm self-pos 
 session, a deliberate balance of mind, and a repose of 
 the emotional nature, which he had never before ob 
 served, except in much older women. She had had, as 
 he could well imagine, no romping girlhood, no season 
 of careless, light-hearted dalliance with opening life, no 
 violent alternation even of the usual griefs and joys of 
 youth. The social calm in which she had expanded had 
 developed her nature as gently and securely as a sea- 
 flower is unfolded below the reach of tides and 
 storms. 
 
 She would have been very much surprised if any one 
 had called her handsome : yet her face had a mild, unob 
 trusive beauty which seemed to grow and deepen from 
 day to day. Of a longer oval than the Greek standard, 
 it was yet as harmonious in outline ; the nose was fine 
 and straight, the dark-blue eyes steady and untroubled, 
 and the lips calmly, but not too firmly closed. Her brown 
 hair, parted over a high white forehead, was smoothly 
 laid across the temples, drawn behind the ears, and 
 twisted into a simple knot. The white cape and sun- 
 bonnet gave her face a nun-like character, which set her 
 apart, in the thoughts of " the world s people " whom she 
 met, as one sanctified for some holy work. She might 
 have gone around the world, repelling every rude word, 
 
252 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 every bold glance, by the protecting atmosphere of purit) 
 and truth which inclosed her. 
 
 The days went by, each bringing some new blossom 
 to adorn anu illustrate the joint studies of the young man 
 and maiden. For Richard Hilton had soon mastered 
 the elements of botany, as taught by Priscilla Wakefield, 
 the only source of Asenath s knowledge, and entered, 
 with her, upon the text-book of Gray, a copy of which he 
 procured from Philadelphia. Yet, though he had over 
 taken her in his knowledge of the technicalities of the 
 science, her practical acquaintance with plants and their 
 habits left her still his superior. Day by day, exploring 
 the meadows, the woods, and the clearings, he brought 
 home his discoveries to enjoy her aid in classifying and 
 assigning them to their true places. Asenath had gen 
 erally an hour or two of leisure from domestic duties in 
 the afternoons, or after the early supper of summer was 
 over ; and sometimes, on " Seventh-days," she would be 
 his guide to some locality where the rarer plants were 
 known to exist. The parents saw this communiJy of in 
 terest and exploration without a thought of nvsgiving. 
 They trusted their daughter as themselves ; or, if any 
 possible fear had flitted across their hearts, it was allayed 
 by the absorbing delight with which Richard Hilton pur 
 sued his study. An earnest discussion as to whethex a 
 certain leaf was ovato or lanceolate, whether a ct rtain 
 plant belonged to the species scandens or canadensis, was, 
 in their eyes, convincing proof that the young brains wert 
 touched, and therefore not the young hearts. 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 253 
 
 But love, symbolized by a rose-bud, is emphatically a 
 botanical emotion. A sweet, tender perception of beauty, 
 such as this study requires, or develops, is at once the 
 most subtile and certain chain of communication between 
 impressible natures. Richard Hilton, feeling that his 
 years were numbered, had given up, in despair, his boy 
 ish dreams, even before he understood them : his fate 
 seemed to preclude the possibility of love. But, as he 
 gained a little strength from the genial season, the pure 
 country air, and the release from gloomy thoughts which 
 his rambles afforded, the end was farther removed, and a 
 future though brief, perhaps, still a future began to 
 glimmer before him. If this could be his life, an end 
 less summer, with a search for new plants every morning, 
 and their classification every evening, with Asenath s help 
 on the shady portico of Friend Mitchenor s house, he 
 could forget his doom, and enjoy the blessing of life un 
 thinkingly. 
 
 The azaleas succeeded to the anemones, the orchis 
 and trillium followed, then the yellow gerardias and the 
 f eathery purple pogonias, and finally the growing gleam 
 of the golden-rods along the wood-side and the red um 
 bels of the tall eupatoriums in the meadow announced 
 the close of summer. One evening, as Richard, in dis 
 playing his collection, brought to view the blood-red leaf 
 of a gum-tree, Asenath exclaimed 
 
 " Ah, there is the sign ! It is early, this year." 
 
 "What sign? "he asked. 
 
 "That the summer is over. We shall soon have 
 
2$4 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 frosty nights, and then nothing will be left for us except 
 the asters and gentians and golden-rods." 
 
 Was the time indeed so near ? A few more weeks, 
 ind this Arcadian life would close. He must go back to 
 the city, to its rectilinear streets, its close brick walls, its 
 artificial, constrained existence. How could he give up 
 the peace, the contentment, the hope he had enjoyed 
 through the summer ? The question suddenly took a 
 more definite form in his mind : How could he give up 
 Asenath ? Yes the quiet, unsuspecting girl, sitting be 
 side him, with her lap full of the September blooms he 
 had gathered, was thenceforth a part of his inmost life. 
 Pure and beautiful as she was, almost sacred in his re 
 gard, his heart dared to say "I need her and claim 
 her ! " 
 
 " Thee looks pale to-night, Richard," said Abigail, 
 as they took their seats at the supper-table. "I hope 
 thee has not taken cold." 
 
 IIL 
 
 " WILL thee go along, Richard ? I know where the 
 rudbeckias grow," said Asenath, on the following 
 " Seventh-day " afternoon. 
 
 They crossed the meadows, and followed the course 
 of the stream, under its canopy of magnificent ash and 
 plane trees, into a brake between the hills. It was an al 
 most impenetrable thicket, spangled with tall autumnal 
 flowers. The eupatoriums, with their purple crowns, 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 2$$ 
 
 stood like young trees, with an undergrowth of aster and 
 blue spikes of lobelia, tangled in a golden mesh of dod 
 der. A strong, mature odor, mixed alike of leaves and 
 flowers, and very different from the faint, elusive sweet 
 ness of spring, filled the air. The creek, with a few faded 
 leaves dropped upon its bosom, and films of gossamer 
 streaming from its bushy fringe, gurgled over the pebbles 
 in its bed. Here and there, on its banks, shone the deep 
 yellow stars of the flower they sought. 
 
 Richard Hilton walked as in a dream, mechanical!} 
 plucking a stem of rudbeckia, only to toss it, presently, 
 into the water. 
 
 " Why, Richard ! what s thee doing ? " cried Asenath 
 " thee has thrown away the very best specimen." 
 
 " Let it go," he answered, sadly. " I am afraid every 
 thing else is thrown away." 
 
 " What does thee mean ? " she asked, with a look of 
 surprised and anxious inquiry. 
 
 " Don t ask me, Asenath. Or yes, I will tell you. 
 I must say it to you now, or never afterwards. Do you 
 know what a happy life I ve been leading since I came 
 here ? that I ve learned what life is, as if I d never known 
 it before ? I want to live, Asenath, and do you know 
 why?" 
 
 " I hope thee will live, Richard," she said, gently and 
 tenderly, her deep-blue eyes dim with the mist of unshed 
 tears. 
 
 " But, Asenath, how am I to live without you ? But 
 you can t understand that, because you do not know what 
 
256 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 you are to me. No, you never guessed that all this while 
 I ve been loving you more and more, until now I have no 
 other idea of death than not to see you, not to love you, 
 not to share your life ! " 
 
 " Oh, Richard 1 " 
 
 " I knew you would be shocked, Asenath. I meant 
 to have kept this to myself. You never dreamed of it, 
 and I had no right to disturb the peace of your heart. 
 The truth is told now, and I cannot take it back, if I 
 wished. But if you cannot love, you can forgive me for 
 loving you forgive me now and every day of my life." 
 
 He uttered these words with a passionate tenderness, 
 standing on the edge of the stream, and gazing into its 
 waters. His slight frame trembled with the violence of 
 his emotion. Asenath, who had become very pale as he 
 commenced to speak, gradually flushed over neck and 
 brow as she listened. Her head drooped, the gathered 
 flowers fell from her hands, and she hid her face. For a 
 few minutes no sound was heard but the liquid gurgling 
 of the water, and the whistle of a bird in the thicket be 
 side them. Richard Hilton at last turned, and, in a voice 
 of hesitating entreaty, pronounced her name 
 
 "Asenath!" 
 
 She took away her hands, and slowly lifted her face. 
 She was pale, but her eyes met his with a frank, appealing, 
 tender expression, which caused his heart to stand still a 
 moment. He read no reproach, no faintest thought oi 
 blame ; but was it pity ? was it pardon ? or 
 
 " We stand before God, Richard," said she, in a low 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 257 
 
 sweet, solemn tone. " He knows that I do not need to 
 forgive thee. If thee requires it, I also require His for 
 giveness for myself." 
 
 Though a deeper blush now came to cheek and brow, 
 she met his gaze with the bravery of a pure and innocent 
 tieart. Richard, stunned with the sudden and unexpected 
 bliss, strove to take the full consciousness of it into a be 
 ing which seemed too narrow to contain it. His first im 
 pulse was to rush forward, clasp her passionately in his 
 arms, and hold her in the embrace which encircled, for 
 him, the boundless promise of life ; but she stood there, 
 defenceless, save in her holy truth and trust, and his heart 
 bowed down and gave her reverence. 
 
 " Asenath," said he, at last, " I never dared to hope 
 for this. God bless you for those words ! Can you trust 
 me ? can you indeed love me ? " 
 
 " I can trust thee, I do love thee ! " 
 
 They clasped each other s hands in one long, clinging 
 pressure. No kiss was given, but side by side they walk 
 ed slowly up the dewy meadows, in happy and hallowed 
 silence. Asenath s face became troubled as the old farm 
 house appeared through the trees. 
 
 " Father and mother must know of this, Richard," said 
 she. " I am afraid it may be a cross to them." 
 
 The same fear had already visited his own mind, but 
 he answered, cheerfully 
 
 " I hope not. I think I have taken a new lease of 
 .ife, and shall soon be strong enough to satisfy them 
 Besides, my father is in prosperous business." 
 
258 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " It is not that," she answered ; " but thee is not one 
 of us." 
 
 It was growing dusk when they reached the house. 
 In the dim candle-light Asenath s paleness was not re 
 marked ; and Richard s silence was attributed to fatigue. 
 
 The next morning the whole family attended meeting 
 at the neighboring Quaker meeting-house, in the prepara 
 tion for which, and the various special occupations of 
 their "First-day" mornings, the unsuspecting parents 
 overlooked that inevitable change in the faces of the lov 
 ers which they must otherwise have observed. After din 
 ner, as Eli was taking a quiet walk in the garden, Rich 
 ard Hilton approached him. 
 
 " Friend Mitchenor," said he, " I should like to have 
 some talk with thee." 
 
 " What is it, Richard ? " asked the old man, breaking 
 off some pods from a seedling radish, and rubbing them 
 in the palm of his hand. 
 
 "I hope, Friend Mitchenor," said the young man, 
 scarcely knowing how to approach so important a crisis 
 in his life, " I hope thee has been satisfied with my con 
 duct since I came to live with thee, and has no fault to 
 find with me as a man." 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Eli, turning around and looking 
 up, sharply, " does thee want a testimony from me ? I ve 
 nothing, that I know of, to say against thee." 
 
 " If I were sincerely attached to thy daughter, Friend 
 Mitchenor, and she returned the attachment, could thee 
 trust her happiness in my hands ? " 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 259 
 
 " What ! " cried Eli, straightening himself and glaring 
 upon the speaker, with a face too amazed to express any 
 other feeling. 
 
 " Can you confide Asenath s happiness to my care t 
 I love her with my whole heart and soul, and the fortune 
 of my life depends on your answer." 
 
 The straight lines in the old man s face seemed to grow 
 deeper and more rigid, and his eyes shone with the chill 
 glitter of steel. Richard, not daring to say a word more, 
 awaited his reply in intense agitation. 
 
 " So ! " he exclaimed at last, " this is the way thee s 
 repaid me ! I didn t expect this from thee ! Has thee 
 spoken to her ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Thee has, has thee ? And I suppose thee s persua 
 ded her to think as thee does. Thee d better never have 
 come here. When I want to lose my daughter, and can t 
 find anybody else for her, I ll let thee know." 
 
 "What have you against me, Friend Mitchenor?" 
 Richard sadly asked, forgetting, in his excitement, the 
 Quaker speech he had learned. 
 
 " Thee needn t use compliments now ! Asenath shall 
 be a Friend while / live ; thy fine clothes and merry-mak 
 ings and vanities are not for her. Thee belongs to the 
 world, and thee may choose one of the world s women." 
 
 " Never ! " protested Richard ; but Friend Mitchenor 
 was already ascending the garden-steps on his way to the 
 house. 
 
 The young man, utterly overwhelmed, wandered tc 
 
260 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the nearest grove and threw himself on the ground 
 Thus, in a miserable chaos of emotion, unable to grasp 
 any fixed thought, the hours passed away. Towards even 
 ing, he heard a footstep approaching, and sprang up. It 
 was Moses. 
 
 The latter was engaged, with the consent of his parents 
 and expected to "pass meeting" in a few weeks. He 
 knew what had happened, and felt a sincere sympathy for 
 Richard, for whom he had a cordial regard. His face was 
 very grave, but kind. 
 
 " Thee d better come in, Richard," said he ; " the even 
 ings are damp, and I v e brought thy overcoat. I know 
 everything, and I feel that it must be a great cross for 
 thee. But thee won t be alone in bearing it." 
 
 " Do you think there is no hope of your father relent 
 ing?" he asked, in a tone of despondency which anticipa 
 ted the answer. 
 
 "Father s very hard to move, 7 said Moses; "and 
 when mother and Asenath can t prevail on him, nobody 
 else need try. I m afraid thee must make up thy mind 
 to the trial. I m sorry to say it, Richard, but I think 
 thee d better go back to town." 
 
 " I ll go to-morrow, go and die ! " he muttered 
 hoarsely, as he followed Moses to the house. 
 
 Abigail, as she saw his haggard face, wept quietly. 
 She pressed his hand tenderly, but said nothing. Eli 
 was stern and cold as an Iceland rock. Asenath did not 
 make her appearance. At supper, the old man and his 
 son exchanged a few words about the farm-work to be 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 26] 
 
 done on the morrow, but nothing else was said. Richara 
 soon left the room and went up to his chamber to spend 
 his last, his only unhappy night at the farm. A yearning, 
 P tying look from Abigail accompanied him. 
 
 " Try and not think hard of us ! " was her fare 
 well the next morning, as he stepped into the old chair, 
 in which Moses was to convey him to the village where 
 he should meet the Doylestown stage. So, without a 
 word of comfort from Asenath s lips, withqut even a last 
 look at her beloved face, he was taken away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 TRUE and firm and self-reliant as was the nature of 
 Asenath Mitchenor, the thought of resistance to her 
 father s will never crossed her mind. It was fixed that 
 she must renounce all intercourse with Richard Hilton ; 
 it was even sternly forbidden her to see him again during 
 the few hours he remained in the house ; but the sacred 
 love, thus rudely dragged to the light and outraged, was 
 still her own. She would take it back into the keeping 
 of her heart, and if a day should ever come when he 
 would be free to return and demand it of her, he would 
 find it there, unwithered, with all the unbreathed perfume 
 hoarded in its folded leaves. If that day came not, she 
 would at the last give it back to God, saying, " Father, 
 here is Thy most precious gift, bestow it as Thou wilt." 
 
 As her life had never before been agitated by any 
 fttrong emotion, so it was not outwardly agitated now 
 
262 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 The placid waters of her soul did not heave and toss 
 before those winds of passion and sorrow : they lay in 
 dull, leaden calm, under a cold and sunless sky. What 
 struggles with herself she underwent no one ever knew 
 After Richard Hilton s departure, she never mentioned 
 his name, or referred, in any way, to the summer s com 
 panionship with him. She performed her household du 
 ties, if not cheerfully, at least as punctually and carefully 
 as before ; and her father congratulated himself that the 
 unfortunate attachment had struck no deeper root. Abi 
 gail s finer sight, however, was not deceived by this exter 
 nal resignation. She noted the faint shadows under the 
 eyes, the increased whiteness of the temples, the uncon 
 scious traces of pain which sometimes played about the 
 dimpled corners of the mouth, and watched her daughter 
 with a silent, tender solicitude. 
 
 The wedding of Moses was a severe test of Asenath s 
 strength, but she stood the trial nobly, performing all the 
 duties required by her position with such sweet compo 
 sure that many of the older female Friends remarked to 
 Abigail, " How womanly Asenath has grown ! " Eli 
 Mitchenor noted, with peculiar satisfaction, that the eyes of 
 tne young Friends some of them of great promise in the 
 sect, and well endowed with worldly goods followed her 
 admiringly. " It will not be long," he thought, " before 
 she is consoled." 
 
 Fortune seemed to favor his plans, and justify his 
 harsh treatment of Richard Hilton. There were unfav 
 orable accounts of the young man s conduct His fathei 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 263 
 
 had died during the winter, and he was represented as 
 having become very reckless and dissipated. These re 
 ports at last assumed such a definite form that Friend 
 Mitchenor brought them to the notice of his family. 
 
 " I met Josiah Comly in the road," said he, one day 
 at dinner. " He s just come from Philadelphia, and 
 brings bad news of Richard Hilton. He s taken to drink, 
 and is spending in wickedness the money his father left 
 him. His friends have a great concern about him, but it 
 seems he s not to be reclaimed." 
 
 Abigail looked imploringly at her husband, but he 
 either disregarded or failed to understand her look. As 
 enath, who had grown very pale, steadily met her father s 
 gaze, and said, in a tone which he had never yet heard 
 from her lips 
 
 " Father, will thee please never mention Richard Hil 
 ton s name when I am by ? " 
 
 The words were those of entreaty, but the voice was 
 that of authority. The old man was silenced by a new 
 and unexpected power in his daughter s heart : he sud 
 denly felt that she was not a girl, as heretofore, but a 
 woman, whom he might persuade, but could no longer 
 compel. 
 
 " It shall be as thee wishes, Asenath," he said ; " we 
 had best forget him." 
 
 Of their friends, however, she could not expect this 
 reserve, and she was doomed to hear stories of Richard 
 which clouded and embittered her thoughts of him. And 
 a still severer trial was in store. She accompanied her 
 
264 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 father, in obedience to his wish, and against her own de 
 sire, to the Yearly Meeting in Philadelphia. It has 
 passed into a proverb that the Friends, on these occa 
 sions, always bring rain with them ; and the period of her 
 v sit was no exception to the rule. The showery days of 
 ft Vearly Meeting Week" glided by, until the last, and she 
 looked forward with relief to the morrow s return to 
 Bucks County, glad to have escaped a meeting with 
 Richard Hilton, which might have confirmed her fears 
 and could but have given her pain in any case. 
 
 As she and her father joined each other, outside the 
 meeting-house, at the close of the afternoon meeting, a 
 light rain was falling. She took his arm, under the capa 
 cious umbrella, and they were soon alone in the wet 
 streets, on their way to the house of the Friends who en 
 tertained them. At a crossing, where the water pouring 
 down the gutter towards the Delaware, caused them to 
 halt, a man, plashing through the flood, staggered towards 
 them. Without an umbrella, with dripping, disordered 
 clothes, yet with a hot, flushed face, around which the 
 long black hair hung wildly, he approached, singing to 
 himself with maudlin voice a song that would have been 
 sweet and tender in a lover s mouth. Friend Mitchenor 
 drew to one side, lest his spotless drab should be brushed 
 by the unclean reveller ; but the latter, looking up, stop 
 ped suddenly face to face with them. 
 
 " Asenath ! " he cried, in a voice whose anguish 
 pierced through the confusion of his senses, and struck 
 down into the sober quick of his soul. 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 265 
 
 " Richard ! " she breathed, rather than spoke, in a low, 
 terrified voice. 
 
 It was indeed Richard Hilton who stood before her, 
 01 rather as she afterwards thought, in recalling the in 
 terview the body of Richard Hilton possessed by an 
 evil spirit. His cheeks burned with a more than hectic 
 red, his eyes were wild and bloodshot, and though the 
 recognition had suddenly sobered him, an impatient, 
 reckless devil seemed to lurk under the set mask of his 
 features. 
 
 " Here I am, Asenath," he said at length, hoarsely. 
 " I said it was death, didn t I ? Well, it s worse than 
 death, I suppose ; but what matter ? You can t be more 
 lost to me now than you were already. This is thy doing, 
 Friend Eli," he continued, turning to the old man, with a 
 sneering emphasis on the "thy" " I hope thee s satisfied 
 with thy work ! " 
 
 Here he burst into a bitter, mocking laugh, which it 
 chilled Asenath s blood to hear. 
 
 The old man turned pale. " Come away, child ! said 
 he, tugging at her arm. But she stood firm, strengthened 
 for the moment by a solemn feeling of duty which tram 
 pled down her pain. 
 
 " Richard," she said, with the music of an immeasur 
 able sorrow in her voice, " oh, Richard, what has thee 
 done ? Where the Lord commands resignation, thee has 
 been rebellious ; where he chasteneth to purify, thee turns 
 blindly to sin. I had not expected this of thee, Richard ; 
 I thought thy regard for me was of the kind which would 
 
 12 
 
266 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 have helped and uplifted thee, not through me, as an 
 unworthy object, but through the hopes and the pure de 
 sires of thy own heart. I expected that thee would so 
 act as to justify what I felt towards thee, not to make my 
 affection a reproach, oh, Richard, not to cast over ray 
 heart the shadow of thy sin ! " 
 
 The wretched young man supported himself against 
 the post of an awning, buried his face in his hands, and 
 wept passionately. Once or twice he essayed to speak, 
 but his voice was choked by sobs, and, after a look from 
 the streaming eyes which Asenath could scarcely bear to 
 meet, he again covered his face. A stranger, coming 
 down the street, paused out of curiosity. " Come, come ! " 
 cried Eli, once more, eager to escape from the scene. 
 His daughter stood still, and the man slowly passed on. 
 
 Asenath could not thus leave her lost lover, in his des 
 pairing grief. She again turned to him, her own tears 
 flowing fast and free. 
 
 " I do not judge thee, Richard, but the words that 
 passed between us give me a right to speak to thee. It 
 was hard to lose sight of thee then, but it is still 
 harder for me to see thee now. If the sorrow and pity I 
 feel could save thee, I would be willing never to know any 
 other feelings. I would still do anything for thee except 
 that which thee cannot ask, as thee now is, and I could 
 not give. Thee has made the gulf between us so wide 
 that it cannot be crossed. But I can now weep for thee 
 and pray for thee as a fellow-creature whose soul is still 
 precious in the sight of the Lord. Fare thee well 1 " 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 267 
 
 He seized the hand she extended, bowed down, and 
 showered mingled tears and kisses upon it. Then, with a 
 wild sob in his throat, he started up and rushed down the 
 street, through the fast-falling rain. The father and 
 daughter walked home in silence. Eli had heard every 
 word that was spoken, and felt that a spirit whose utteran 
 ces he dared not question had visited Asenath s tongue. 
 
 She, as year after year went by, regained the peace 
 and patience which give a sober cheerfulness to life. The 
 pangs of her heart grew dull and transient ; but there were 
 two pictures in her memory which never blurred in out 
 line or faded in color : one, the brake of autumn flowers 
 under the bright autumnal sky, with bird and stream mak 
 ing accordant music to the new voice of love ; the other 
 a rainy street, with a lost, reckless man leaning against an 
 awning-post, and staring in her face with eyes whose un 
 utterable woe, when she dared to recall it, darkened the 
 beauty of the earth, and almost shook her trust in the 
 providence of God. 
 
 V. 
 
 YEAR after year passed by, but not without bringing 
 change to the Mitchenor family. Moses had moved to 
 Chester County soon after his marriage, and had a good 
 farm of his own. At the end of ten years Abigail died ; 
 and the old man, who had not only lost his savings by an 
 unlucky investment, but was obliged to mortgage his farm, 
 finally determined to sell it and join his son. He was 
 
268 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 getting too old to manage it properly, impatient under the 
 unaccustomed pressure of debt, and depressed by the loss 
 of the wife to whom, without any outward show of tender 
 ness, he was, in truth, tenderly attached. He missed her 
 more keenly in the places where she had lived and moved 
 than in a neighborhood without the memory of her presence. 
 The pang with which he parted from his home was weak 
 ened by the greater pang which had preceded it. 
 
 It was a harder trial to Asenath She shrank from 
 the encounter with new faces, and the necessity of crea 
 ting new associations. There was a quiet satisfaction in 
 the ordered, monotonous round of her life, which might 
 be the same elsewhere, but here alone was the nook which 
 held all the morning sunshine she had ever known. Here 
 still lingered the halo of the sweet departed summer, 
 here still grew the familiar wild-flowers which the first 
 Richard Hilton had gathered. This was the Paradise in 
 which the Adam of her heart had dwelt, before his fall. 
 Her resignation and submission entitled her to keep those 
 pure and perfect memories, though she was scarcely con 
 scious of their true charm. She did not dare to express 
 to herself, in words, that one everlasting joy of woman s 
 heart, through all trials and sorrows " I have loved, I 
 have been beloved." 
 
 On the last u First-day " before their departure, she 
 walked down the meadows to the lonely brake between 
 the hills. It was the early spring, and the black buds of 
 the ash had just begun to swell. The maples were dusted 
 with crimson bloom, and the downy catkins of the swamp 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 269 
 
 willow dropped upon the stream and floated past her, as 
 once the autumn leaves. In the edges of the thickets 
 peeped forth the blue, scentless violet, the fair} 7 cups of 
 the anemone, and the pink-veined bells of the miskodeed 
 The tall blooms through which the lovers walked still 
 slept in the chilly earth ; but the sky above her was mild 
 and blue, and the remembrance of the day came back to 
 her with a delicate, pungent sweetness, like the perfume 
 of the trailing arbutus in the air around her. In a shel 
 tered, sunny nook, she found a single erythronium, lured 
 forth in advance of its proper season, and gathered it as a 
 relic of the spot, which she might keep without blame. 
 As she stooped to pluck it, her own face looked up at her 
 out of a little pool filled by the spring rains. Seen against 
 the reflected sky, it shone with a soft radiance, and the 
 earnest eyes met hers, as if it were her young self, evoked 
 from the past, to bid her farewell. " Farewell!" she 
 whispered, taking leave at once, as she believed, of youth 
 and the memory of love. 
 
 During those years she had more than once been 
 sought in marriage, but had steadily, though kindly, re 
 fused. Once, when the suitor was a man whose character 
 and position made the union very desirable in Eli Mitch- 
 enor s eyes, he ventured to use his paternal influence. 
 Asenath s gentle resistance was overborne by his arbitrary 
 force of will, and her protestations were of no avail. 
 
 " Father," she finally said, in the tone which he had 
 once heard and still remembered, thee can take away, 
 but thee cannot give." 
 
270 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 He never mentioned the subject again. 
 
 Richard Hilton passed out of her knowledge shortlj 
 after her meeting with him in Philadelphia. She heard, 
 indeed, that his headlong career of dissipation was not 
 arrested, that his friends had given him up as hopelessly 
 ruined, and, finally, that he had left the city. After 
 that, all reports ceased. He was either dead, or reclaim 
 ed and leading a better life, somewhere far away. Dead, 
 she believed almost hoped ; for in that case might he 
 not now be enjoying the ineffable rest and peace which 
 she trusted might be her portion ? It was better to think 
 of him as a purified spirit, waiting to meet her in a holier 
 communion, than to know that he was still bearing the 
 burden of a soiled and blighted life. In any case, her 
 own future was plain and clear. It was simply a pro 
 longation of the present an alternation of seed-time 
 and harvest, filled with humble duties and cares, until 
 the Master should bid her lay down her load and follow 
 
 Him. 
 
 Friend Mitchenor bought a small cottage adjacent to 
 his son s farm, in a community which consisted mostly of 
 Friends, and not far from the large old meeting-house in 
 which the Quarterly Meetings were held. He at once 
 took his place on the upper seat, among the elders, most 
 of whom he knew already, from having met them, year 
 after year, in Philadelphia. The charge of a few acres of 
 ground gave him sufficient occupation ; the money left to 
 him after the sale of his farm was enough to support him 
 comfortably ; and a late Indian summer of contentment 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 27 1 
 
 seemed now to have come to the old man. He was done 
 with the earnest business of life. Moses was gradually 
 taking his place, as father and Friend j and Asenath would 
 be reasonably provided for at his death. As his bodily 
 energies decayed, his imperious temper softened, his mind 
 became more accessible to liberal influences, and he even 
 cultivated a cordial friendship with a neighboring farmer 
 who was one of " the world s people." Thus, at seventy-five 
 he was really younger, because tenderer of heart and more 
 considerate, than he had been at sixty. 
 
 Asenath was now a woman of thirty-five, and suitors 
 had ceased to approach her. Much of her beauty still 
 remained, but her face had become thin and wasted, and 
 the inevitable lines were beginning to form around her 
 eyes. Her dress was plainer than ever, and she wore the 
 scoop-bonnet of drab silk, in which no woman can seem 
 beautiful, unless she be very old. She was calm and grave 
 in her demeanor, save that her perfect goodness and be 
 nevolence shone through and warmed her presence ; but, 
 when earnestly interested, she had been known to speak her 
 mind so clearly and forcibly that it was generally surmised 
 among the Friends that she possessed " a gift," which 
 might, in time, raise her to honor among them. To the 
 children of Moses she was a good genius, and a word from 
 " Aunt Senath " oftentimes prevailed when the authority 
 of the parents was disregarded. In them she found a new 
 source of happiness ; and when her old home on the 
 Neshaminy had been removed a little farther into the past, 
 so that she no longer looked, with every morning s sun, 
 
272 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 for some familiar feature of its scenery, her submission 
 brightened into a cheerful content with life. 
 
 It was summer, and Quarterly-Meeting Day had ar 
 rived. There had been rumors of the expected presence 
 of " Friends from a distance," and not only those of the 
 district, but most of the neighbors who were not connected 
 with the sect, attended. By the by-road, through th< 
 woods, it was not more than half a mile from Friend Mitch- 
 enor s cottage to the meeting-house, and Asenath, leaving 
 her father to be taken by Moses in his carriage, set out 
 on foot. It was a sparkling, breezy day, and the forest 
 was full of life. Squirrels chased each other along the 
 branches of the oaks, and the air was filled with fragrant 
 odors of hickory-leaves, sweet fern, and spice-wood. 
 Picking up a flower here and there, Asenath walked on 
 ward, rejoicing alike in shade and sunshine, grateful for 
 all the consoling beauty which the earth offers to a lonely 
 heart. That serene content which she had learned to call 
 happiness had filled her being until the dark canopy was 
 lifted and the waters took back their transparency under 
 a cloudless sky. 
 
 Passing around to the " women s side " of the meeting 
 house, she mingled with her friends, who were exchanging 
 information concerning the expected visitors. Micajah Mor- 
 rill had not arrived, they said, but Ruth Baxter had spent 
 the last night at Friend Way s, and would certainly be 
 there. Besides, there were Friend Chandler, from Nine 
 Partners, and Friend Carter, from Maryland : they had 
 been seen on the ground. Friend Carter was said to have 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 2/3 
 
 a wonderful gift, Mercy Jackson had heard him once, in 
 Baltimore. The Friends there had been a little exercised 
 about him, because they thought he was too much in 
 clined to "the newness," but it was known that the Spirit 
 had often manifestly led him. Friend Chandler had vis 
 ited Yearly Meeting once, they believed. He was an old 
 man, and had been a personal friend of Elias Hicks. 
 
 At the appointed hour they entered the house. After 
 the subdued rustling which ensued upon taking their seats, 
 there was an interval of silence, shorter than usual, be 
 cause it was evident that many persons would feel the 
 promptings of the Spirit. Friend Chandler spoke first, 
 and was followed by Ruth Baxter, a frail little woman, 
 with a voice of exceeding power. The not unmelodious 
 chant in which she delivered her admonitions rang out, at 
 times, like the peal of a trumpet. Fixing her eyes on va 
 cancy, with her hands on the wooden rail before her, and 
 her body slightly swaying to and fro, her voice soared far 
 aloft at the commencement of every sentence, gradually 
 dropping, through a melodious scale of tone, to the close. 
 She resembled an inspired prophetess, an aged Deborah, 
 crying aloud in the valleys of Israel. 
 
 The last speaker was Friend Carter, a small man, not 
 more than forty years of age. His face was thin and in 
 tense in its expression, his hair gray at the temples, 
 and his dark eye almost too restless for a child of 
 "the stillness and the quietness." His voice, though not 
 loud, was clear and penetrating, with an earnest, sympa 
 thetic quality, which arrested, not the ear alone, but the 
 
274 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 serious attention of the auditor. His delivery was bui 
 slightly marked by the peculiar rhythm of the Quaker 
 preachers ; and this fact, perhaps, increased the effect of 
 his words, through the contrast with those who preceded 
 him. 
 
 His discourse was an eloquent vindication of the law 
 of kindness, as the highest and purest manifestation of 
 true Christian doctrine. The paternal relation of God to 
 man was the basis of that religion which appealed directly 
 to the heart : so the fraternity of each man with his fellow 
 was its practical application. God pardons the repentant 
 sinner : we can also pardon, where we are offended ; we 
 can pity, where we cannot pardon. Both the good and 
 the bad principles generate their like in others* Force 
 begets force ; anger excites a corresponding anger j but 
 kindness awakens the slumbering emotions even of an evil 
 heart. Love may not always be answered by an equal 
 love, but it has never yet created hatred. The testimony 
 which Friends bear against war, he said, is but a general 
 assertion, which has no value except in so far as they 
 manifest the principle of peace in their daily lives in the 
 exercise of pity, of charity, of forbearance, and Christian 
 love. 
 
 The words of the speaker sank deeply into the hearts 
 of his hearers. There was an intense hush, as if in truth 
 the Spirit had moved him to speak, and every sentence 
 was armed with a sacred authority. Asenath Mitchenor 
 looked at him, over the low partition which divided her 
 ?nd her sisters from the men s side, absorbed in his rapt 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 2/5 
 
 earnestness and truth. She forgot that other hearers were 
 present : he spake to her alone. A strange spell seemed 
 to seize upon her faculties and chain them at his feet : had 
 he beckoned to her, she would have arisen and walked to 
 his side. 
 
 Friend Carter warmed and deepened as he went on. 
 " I feel moved to-day," he said, " moved, I know not 
 why, but I hope for some wise purpose, to relate to you 
 an instance of Divine and human kindness which has come 
 directly to my own knowledge. A young man of delicate 
 constitution, whose lungs were thought to be seriously af 
 fected, was sent to the liouse of a Friend in the country, 
 in order to try the effect of air and exercise." 
 
 Asenath almost ceased to breathe, in the intensity with 
 which she gazed and listened. Clasping her hands tightly 
 in her lap to prevent them from trembling, and steadying 
 herself against the back of the seat, she heard the story 
 of her love for Richard Hilton told by the lips of a 
 stranger ! not merely of his dismissal from the house, but 
 of that meeting in the street, at which only she and her 
 father were present ! Nay, more, she heard her own 
 words repeated, she he;r;d Richard s passionate outburst 
 of remorse described in language that brought his living 
 face before her ! She gasped for breath his face was 
 before her ! The features, sharpened by despairing grief, 
 which her memory recalled, had almost anticipated the 
 harder lines which fifteen years had made, and \vhich now, 
 with a terrible shock and choking leap of the heart, she rec 
 ognized. Her senses faded, and she would have fallen 
 
276 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 from her seat but for the support of the partition against 
 which she leaned. Fortunately, the women near her were 
 too much occupied with the narrative to notice her condi- 
 ion. Many of them wept silently, with their handker 
 chiefs pressed over their mouths. 
 
 The first shock of death-like faintness passed away, 
 and she clung to the speaker s voice, as if its sound alone 
 could give her strength to sit still and listen further. 
 
 " Deserted by his friends, unable to stay his feet on 
 the evil path," he continued, " the young man left his 
 home and went to a city in another State. But here it 
 was easier to find associates in evil than tender hearts 
 that might help him back to good. He was tired of 
 life, and the hope of a speedier death hardened him in 
 his courses. But, my friends, Death never comes to 
 those who wickedly seek him. The Lord withholds de 
 struction from the hands that are madly outstretched to 
 grasp it, and forces His pity and forgiveness on the un 
 willing soul. Finding that it was the principle of lift 
 which grew stronger within him, the young man at last 
 meditated an awful crime. The thought of self-destruc 
 tion haunted him day and night. He lingered around 
 the wharves, gazing into the deep waters, and was re 
 strained from the deed only by the memory of the last 
 loving voice he had heard. One gloomy evening, when 
 even this memory had faded, and he awaited the approach 
 ing darkness to make his design secure, a hand was laid 
 on his arm. A man in the simple garb of the Friends 
 stood beside him, and a face which reflected the kindness 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 277 
 
 of the Divine father looked upon him. ( My child, said 
 he, I am drawn to thee by the great trouble of thy mind. 
 Shall I tell thee what it is thee meditates ? The young 
 man shook his head. I will be silent, then, but I will 
 save thee. I know the human heart, and its trials and 
 weaknesses, and it may be put into my mouth to give thee 
 strength. He took the young man s hand, as if he had 
 been a little child, and led him to his home. He heard 
 the sad story, from beginning to end ; and the young 
 man wept upon his breast, to hear no word of reproach, 
 but only the largest and tenderest pity bestowed upon 
 him. They knelt down, side by side, at midnight ; and 
 the Friend s right hand was upon his head while they 
 prayed. 
 
 " The young man was rescued from his evil ways, to 
 acknowledge still further the boundless mercy of Provi 
 dence. The dissipation wherein he had recklessly sought 
 death was, for him, a marvellous restoration to life. His 
 lungs had become sound and free from the tendency to 
 disease. The measure of his forgiveness was almost more 
 than he could bear. He bore his cross thenceforward with 
 a joyful resignation, and was mercifully drawn nearer and 
 nearer to the Truth, until, in the fulness of his convictions, 
 he entered into the brotherhood of the Friends. 
 
 " I have been powerfully moved to tell you this story." 
 Friend Carter concluded, "from a feeling that it may be 
 needed, here, at this time, to influence some heart trem 
 bling in the balance Who is there among you, my friends, 
 that ma) not snatch a brand from the burning ! Oh, be- 
 
278 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 lieve that pity and charity are the most effectual weap* 
 ons given into the hands of us imperfect mortals, and 
 leave the awful attribute of wrath in the hands of the 
 Lord ! " 
 
 He sat down, and dead silence ensued. Tears of emo 
 tion stood in the eyes of the hearers, men as well as women, 
 and tears of gratitude and thanksgiving gushed warmly 
 from those of Asenath. An ineffable peace and joy de 
 scended upon her heart. 
 
 When the meeting broke up, Friend Mitchenor, who 
 had not recognized Richard Hilton, but had heard the 
 story with feelings which he endeavored in vain to control, 
 approached the preacher. 
 
 " The Lord spoke to me this day through thy lips," 
 said he ; " will thee come to one side, and hear me a min 
 ute ? " 
 
 " Eli Mitchenor ! " exclaimed Friend Carter ; " Eli ! I 
 knew not thee was here ! Doesn t thee know me ? " 
 
 The old man stared in astonishment. " It seems like 
 a face I ought to know," he said, "but I can t place thee." 
 They withdrew to the shade of one of the poplars. Friend 
 Carter turned again, much moved, and, grasping the old 
 man s hands in his own, exclaimed 
 
 " Friend Mitchenor, I was called upon to-day to speak 
 of myself. I am or, rather, I was the Richard Hilton 
 whom thee knew." 
 
 Friend Mitchenor s face flushed with mingled emotions 
 of shame and joy, and his grasp on the preacher s hands 
 tightened. 
 
FRIEND ELI S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " But thee calls thyself Carter?" he finally said. 
 
 " Soon after I was saved," was the reply, " an aunt on 
 the mother s side died, and left her property to me, on con 
 dition that I should take her name. I was tired of my 
 own then, and to give it up seemed only like losing my 
 former self; but I should like to have it back again now." 
 
 " Wonderful are the ways of the Lord, and past find 
 ing out ! " said the old man. " Come home with me, 
 Richard, come for my sake, for there is a concern on my 
 mind until all is clear between us. Or, stay, will thee 
 walk home with Asenath, while I go with Moses ? " 
 
 "Asenath?" 
 
 " Yes. There she goes, through the gate. Thee can 
 easily overtake her. I m coming, Moses ! " and he hur 
 ried away to his son s carriage, which was approaching. 
 
 Asenath felt that it would be impossible for her to meet 
 Richard Hilton there. She knew not why his name had 
 been changed ; he had not betrayed his identity with the 
 young man of his story ; he evidently did not wish it to be 
 known, and an unexpected meeting with her might sur 
 prise him into an involuntary revelation of the fact. It 
 was enough for her that a saviour had arisen, and her lost 
 Adam was redeemed, that a holier light than the autumn 
 sun s now rested, and would forever rest, on the one land 
 scape of her youth. Her eyes shone with the pure bright 
 ness of girlhood, a soft warmth colored her cheek and 
 smoothed away the coining lines of her brow, and her step 
 was light and elastic as in the old time. 
 
 Eager to escape from the crowd, she crossed the high- 
 
28O TALES OF HOME* 
 
 way, dusty with its string of returning carriages, and enter 
 ed the secluded lane. The breeze had died away, the aii 
 was full of insect-sounds, and the warm light of the sink 
 ing sun fell upon the woods and meadows. Nature seem 
 ed penetrated with a sympathy with her own inner peace. 
 
 But the crown of the benignant day was yet to come. 
 A quick footstep followed her, and ere long a voice, near 
 at hand, called her by name. 
 
 She stopped, turned, and for a moment they stood 
 silent, face to facs 
 
 " I knew thee, Richard ! " at last she said, in a trem 
 bling voice ; " may the Lord bless thee ! " 
 
 Tears were in the eyes of both. 
 
 " He has blessed me," Richard answered, in a reverent 
 tone ; " and this is His last and sweetest mercy. Asenath, 
 let me hear that thee forgives me." 
 
 " I have forgiven thee long ago, Richard forgiven, 
 but not forgotten." 
 
 The hush of sunset was on the forest, as they walked 
 onward, side by side, exchanging their mutual histories 
 Not a leaf stirred in the crowns of the tall trees, and tht 
 dusk, creeping along between their stems, brought with it 
 a richer woodland odor. Their voices were low and sub 
 dued, as if an angel of God were hovering in the shadows, 
 and listening, or God Himself looked down upon them 
 from the violet sky. 
 
 At last Richard stopped. 
 
 " Asenath," said he, " does thee remember that spot 
 on the banks of the creek, where the rudbeckias grew ? " 
 
FRIEND ELl S DACJGHTER. 28 1 
 
 " I remember it," she answered, a girlish blush rising 
 to her face. 
 
 " If I were to say to thee now what I said to thee 
 there, what would be thy answer?" 
 
 Her words came brokenly. 
 
 * I would say to thee, Richard, I can trust thee, 
 I do love thee ! " 
 
 " Look at me, Asenath." 
 
 Her eyes, beaming with a clearer light than even then 
 when she first confessed, were lifted to his. She placed 
 her hands gently upon his shoulders, and bent her head 
 upon his breast. He tenderly lifted it again, and, for the 
 first time, her virgin lips knew the kiss of man. 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 
 
 T was a day of unusual excitement at the 
 Rambo farm-house. On the farm, it is 
 true, all things were in their accustomed 
 order, and all growths did their accustomed 
 credit to the season. The fences were in 
 good repair ; the cattle were healthy and 
 gave promise of the normal increase, and the young corn 
 was neither strangled with weeds nor assassinated by 
 cut-worms. Old John Rambo was gradually allowing 
 his son, Henry, to manage in his stead, and the lattel 
 shrewdly permitted his father to believe that he exercised 
 the ancient authority. Leonard Clare, the strong young fel 
 low who had been taken from that shiftless adventurer, his 
 father, when a mere child, and brought up almost as one 
 of the family, and who had worked as a joiner s apprentice 
 during the previous six months, had come back for the 
 harvest work so the Rambos were forehanded, and 
 probably as well satisfied as it is possible for Pennsyl 
 vania farmers to be. 
 
 In the house, also, Mrs. Priscilla Rambo was not se 
 verely haunted by the spectre of any neglected duty. The 
 
284 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 simple regular routine of the household could not be 
 changed under her charge ; each thing had its appropriate 
 order of performance, must be done, and was done. II 
 the season were backward, at the time appointed for white 
 wash og or soap- making, so much the worse for the sea 
 son ; if the unhatched goslings were slain by thunder, 
 she I/ id the blame on the thunder. And if but no, it is 
 quite impossible to suppose that, outside of those two 
 inevitable, fearful house-cleaning weeks in each year, there 
 coul 1 have been any disorder in the cold prim, varnish- 
 odored best rooms, sacred to company. 
 
 It was Miss Betty Rambo, whose pulse beat some ten 
 strokes faster than its wont, as she sat down with the rest 
 to their early country dinner. Whether her brother Hen 
 ry s participated in the accelerated movement could not 
 be guessed from his demeanor. She glanced at him now 
 and then, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, eager to 
 speak yet shrinking from the half magisterial air which was 
 beginning to supplant his old familiar banter. Henry was 
 changing with his new responsibility, as she admitted to 
 herself with a sort of dismay ; he had the airs of an in 
 dependent farmer, and she remained only a farmer s daugh 
 ter, without any acknowledged rights, until she should 
 acquire them all, at a single blow, by marriage. 
 
 Nevertheless, he must have felt what was in her mind ; 
 for, as he cut out the quarter of a dried apple pie, he said 
 carelessly : 
 
 " I must go down to the Lion, this afternoon. There s 
 a fresh drove of Maryland cattle just come." 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 285 
 
 "Oh Harry ! " cried Betty, in real distress. 
 
 " I know," he answered ; " but as Miss Bartram is going 
 to stay two weeks, she ll keep. She s not like a drove 
 that s here one day, and away the next. Besides, it is 
 precious little good I shall have of her society, until yoy 
 two have used up all your secrets and small talk. I know 
 how it is with girls. Leonard will drive over to meet the 
 train." 
 
 " Won t I do on a pinch ? " Leonard asked. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," said Betty, a little embarrassed, 
 " only Alice Miss Bartram might expect Harry, because 
 her brother came for me when I went up." 
 
 "If that s all, make yourself easy, Bet," Henry an 
 swered, as he rose from the table. " There s a mighty dif 
 ference between here and there. Unless you mean to 
 turn us into a town family while she stays high quality, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Go along to your cattle ! there s not much quality 
 high or low, where you are." 
 
 Betty was indignant; but the annoyance exhausted it 
 self healthfully while she was clearing away the dishes and 
 restoring the room to its order, so that when Leonard 
 drove up to the gate with the lumbering, old-fashioned 
 carriage two hours afterwards, she came forth calm, cheer 
 ful, fresh as a pink in her pink muslin, and entirely the 
 good, sensible country-girl she was. 
 
 Two or three years before, she and Miss Alice Bartram, 
 daughter of the distinguished lawyer in the city, had been 
 room-mates at the Nereid Seminary for Young Ladies 
 
286 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Each liked the other for the contrast to her own self t 
 both were honest, good and lovable, but Betty had the 
 stronger nerves and a practical sense which seemed to be 
 admirable courage in the eyes of Miss Alice, whose in 
 stincts were more delicate, whose tastes were fine and 
 high, and who could not conceive of life without certain 
 luxurious accessories. A very cordial friendship sprang up 
 between them, not the effusive girl-love, with its iterative 
 kisses, tears, and flow of loosened hair, but springing 
 from the respect inspired by sound and positive qualities 
 
 The winter before, Betty had been invited to visit her 
 friend in the city, and had passed a very excited and de 
 lightful week in the stately Bartram mansion. If she 
 were at first a little fluttered by the manners of the new 
 world, she was intelligent enough to carry her own na 
 ture frankly through it, instead of endeavoring to assume 
 its character. Thus her little awkwardnesses became 
 originalities, and she was almost popular in the lofty cir 
 cle when she withdrew from it. It was therefore, per 
 haps, slightly inconsistent in Betty, that she was not quite 
 sure how Miss Bartram would accept the reverse side of 
 this social experience. She imagined it easier to look 
 down and make allowances, as a host, than as a guest \ 
 she could not understand that the charm of the change 
 might be fully equal. 
 
 It was lovely weather, as they drove up the sweet, 
 ever-changing curves of the Brandywine valley. The 
 woods fairly laughed in the clear sunlight, and the soft, 
 incessant, shifting breezes. Leonard, in his best clothes, 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 287 
 
 and with a smoother gloss on his brown hair, sang to 
 himself as he urged the strong-boned horses into a trot 
 along the levels ; and Betty finally felt so quietly happy 
 that she forgot to be nervous. When they reached the 
 station they walked up and down the long platform to 
 gether, until the train from the city thundered up, and 
 painfully restrained its speed. Then Betty, catching 
 sight of a fawn-colored travelling dress issuing from the 
 ladies car, caught hold of Leonard s arm, and cried 
 "There she is!" 
 
 Miss Bartram heard the words, and looked down 
 with a bright, glad expression on her face. It was not her 
 beauty that made Leonard s heart suddenly stop beating 
 for she was not considered a beauty, in society. It was 
 something rarer than perfect beauty, yet even more diffi 
 cult to describe, a serene, unconscious grace, a pure, 
 lofty maturity of womanhood, such as our souls bow down 
 to in the Santa Barbara of Palma Vecchio. Her features 
 were not " faultlessly regular," but they were informed 
 with the finer harmonies of her character. She was a 
 woman, at whose feet a noble man might kneel, lay his 
 forehead on her knee, confess his sins, and be pardoned. 
 
 She stepped down to the platform, and Betty s arms 
 were about her. After a double embrace she gently dis 
 engaged herself, turned to Leonard, gave him her hand, 
 and said, with a smile which was delightfully frank and 
 cordial : " I will not wait for Betty s introduction, Mr. 
 Rambo. She has talked to me so much of her brothei 
 Harry, that I quite know you already." 
 
TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Leonard could neither withdraw his eyes nor his hand. 
 It was like a double burst of warmth and sunshine, in 
 which his breast seemed to expand, his stature to grow., 
 and his whole nature to throb with some new and won- 
 Jerful force. A faint color came into Miss Bartram s 
 cheeks, as they stood thus, for a moment, face to face. 
 She seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but of this he 
 never thought ; had any words come to his mind, his 
 tongue could not have uttered them. 
 
 " It is not Harry," Betty explained, striving to hide 
 her embarrassment. " This is Leonard Clare, who lives 
 with us." 
 
 " Then I do not know you so well as I thought," Miss 
 Bartram said to him ; " it is the beginning of a new ac 
 quaintance, after all." 
 
 "There isn t no harm done," Leonard answered, and 
 instantly feeling the awkwardness of the words, blushed 
 so painfully that Miss Bartram felt the inadequacy of her 
 social tact to relieve so manifest a case of distress. But 
 she did, instinctively, what was really best : she gave 
 Leonard the check for her trunk, divided her satchels 
 with Betty, and walked to the carriage. 
 
 He did not sing, as he drove homewards down the 
 valley. Seated on the trunk, in front, he quietly governed 
 the horses, while the two girls, on the seat behind him 
 talked constantly and gaily. Only the rich, steady tones 
 of Miss Bartram s voice would make their way into his ears, 
 and every light, careless sentence printed itself upon his 
 memory. They came to him as if from some inaccessible 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 289 
 
 planet Poor fellow ! he was not the first to feel " the de 
 sire of the moth for the star." 
 
 When they reached the Rambo farm-house, it was nec 
 essary that he should give his hand to help her down from 
 the clumsy carriage. He held it but a moment j yet in 
 that moment a gentle pulse throbbed upon his hard palm, 
 and he mechanically set his teeth, to keep down the im 
 pulse which made him wild to hold it there forever. 
 " Thank you, Mr. Clare ! " said Miss Bartram, and pass 
 ed into the house. When he followed presently, shoulder 
 ing her trunk into the upper best-room, and kneeling upon 
 the floor to unbuckle the straps, she found herself wonder 
 ing : " Is this a knightly service, or the menial duty of a 
 porter ? Can a man be both sensitive and ignorant, chiv 
 alrous and vulgar ? " 
 
 The question was not so easily decided, though no one 
 guessed how much Miss Bartram pondered it, during the 
 succeeding days. She insisted, from the first, that her 
 coming should make no change in the habits of the house 
 hold ; she rose in the cool, dewy summer dawns, dined at 
 noon in the old brown room beside the kitchen, and only 
 differed from the Rambos in sitting at her moonlit win 
 dow, and breathing the subtle odors of a myriad leaves, 
 long after Betty was sleeping the sleep of health. 
 
 It was strange how frequently the strong, not very 
 giaceful figure of Leonard Clare marched through these 
 reveries. She occasionally spoke to him at the common 
 table, or as she passed the borders of the hay-field, where 
 he and Henry were at work : but his words to her were 
 
290 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 always few and constrained. What was there in his eyes 
 that haunted her ? Not merely a most reverent admiration 
 of her pure womanly refinement, although she read that 
 also ; not a fear of disparagement, such as his awkward 
 speech implied, but something which seemed to seek 
 agonizingly for another language than that of the lips, 
 something which appealed to her from equal ground, 
 and asked for an answer. 
 
 One evening she met him in the lane, as she returned 
 from the meadow. She carried a bunch of flowers, with 
 delicate blue and lilac bells, arid asked him the name. 
 
 " Them s Brandywine cowslips," he answered j " I 
 never heard no other name." 
 
 "May I correct you ? " she said, gently, and with a 
 smile which she meant to be playful. " I suppose the 
 main thing is to speak one s thought, but there are neat 
 and orderly ways, and there are careless ways." There 
 upon she pointed out the inaccuracies of his answer, he 
 standing beside her, silent and attentive. When she 
 ceased, he did not immediately reply. 
 
 " You will take it in good part, will you not ? " she 
 continued. " I hope I have not offended you." 
 
 " No ! " he exclaimed, firmly, lifting his head, and 
 looking at her. The inscrutable expression in his dark 
 gray eyes was stronger than before, and all his features 
 were more clearly drawn. He reminded her of a picture 
 of Adam which she had once seen : there was the same 
 rather low forehead, straight, even brows, full yet strong 
 mouth, and that broader form of chin which repeats and 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 291 
 
 balances the character of the forehead. He was not posi 
 tively handsome, but from head to foot he expressed a 
 fresh, sound quality of manhood. 
 
 Another question flashed across Miss Bartram s mind : 
 Is life long enough to transform this clay into marble ? 
 Here is a man in form, and with all the dignity of the per- 
 feet masculine nature : shall the broad, free intelligence, 
 the grace and sweetness, the taste and refinement, which 
 the best culture gives, never be his also ? If not, woman 
 must be content with faulty representations of her ideal. 
 
 So musing, she walked on to the farm-house. Leon 
 ard had picked up one of the blossoms she had let fall, 
 and appeared to be curiously examining it. If he had 
 apologized for his want of grammar, or promised to re 
 form it, her interest in him might have diminished ; but his 
 silence, his simple, natural obedience to some powerful 
 inner force, whatever it was, helped to strengthen that 
 phantom of him in her mind, which was now beginning to 
 be a serious trouble. 
 
 Once again, the day before she left the Rambo farm 
 house to return to the city, she came upon him, alone. 
 She had wandered off to the Brandywine, to gather ferns 
 at a rocky point where some choice varieties were to be 
 found. There were a few charming clumps, half-way up 
 a slaty cliff, which it did not seem possible to scale, and 
 she was standing at the base, looking up in vain longing, 
 when a voice, almost at her ear, said : 
 
 " Which ones do you want ? " 
 
 Afterwards, she wondered that she did not start at 
 
292 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the voice. Leonard had come up the road from one of 
 the lower fields : he wore neither coat nor waistcoat, and 
 his shirt, open at the throat, showed the firm, beautiful 
 white of the flesh below the strong tan of his neck. Miss 
 Bartram noticed the sinewy strength and elasticity of his 
 form, yet when she looked again at the ferns, she 
 shook her head, and answered : 
 
 " None, since I cannot have them." 
 
 Without saying a word, he took off his shoes, and com 
 menced climbing the nearly perpendicular face of the 
 cliff. He had done it before, many a time ; but Miss 
 Bartram, although she was familiar with such exploits 
 from the pages of many novels, had never seen the reality, 
 and it quite took away her breath. 
 
 When he descended with the ferns in his hand, she 
 said : " It was a great risk ; I wish I had not wanted 
 them." 
 
 " It was no risk for me," he answered. 
 
 " What can I send you in return ? " she asked, as 
 they walked forwards. " I am going home to-morrow." 
 
 " Betty told me," Leonard said ; " please, wait one 
 minute." 
 
 He stepped down to the bank of the stream, washed 
 his hands carefully in the clear water, and came back to 
 her, holding them, dripping, at his sides. 
 
 " I am very ignorant," he then continued, " ignorant 
 and rough. You are good, to want to send me somethingj 
 but I want nothing. Miss Bartram, you are very good." 
 
 He paused ; but with all her tact and social experience, 
 she did not know what to say. 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 293 
 
 " Would you do one little thing for me not for the 
 ferns, that was nothing no more than you do, without 
 thinking, for all your friends ? J 
 
 " Oh, surely ! " she said. 
 
 " Might I might I now, there ll be no chance to 
 morrow, shake hands with you ? " 
 
 The words seemed to be forced from him by the 
 strength of a fierce will. Both stopped, involuntarily. 
 
 " It s quite dry, you see," said he, offering his hand. 
 Her own sank upon it, palm to palm, and the fingers 
 softly closed over each, as if with the passion and sweet 
 ness of a kiss. Miss Bartram s heart came to her eyes, 
 and read, at last, the question in Leonard s. It was : " I 
 as man, and you, as woman, are equals ; will you give me 
 time to reach you ? " What her eyes replied she knew not. 
 A mighty influence drew her on, and a mighty doubt and 
 dread restrained her. One said : " Here is your lover, 
 your husband, your cherished partner, left by fate below 
 your station, yet whom you may lift to your side ! Shall 
 man, alone, crown the humble maiden, stoop to love, 
 and, loving, ennoble ? Be you the queen, and love him 
 by the royal -right of womanhood ! " But the other stern 
 ly whispered : " How shall your fine and delicate fibres 
 be knit into this coarse texture ? Ignorance, which years 
 cannot wash away, low instincts, what do you know ? 
 all the servile side of life, which is turned from you, 
 what madness to choose this, because some current of 
 earthly magnetism sets along your nerves? He loves 
 you : what of that ? You are a higher being to him, and 
 
294 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 he stupidly adores you. Think, yes, dare to think of all 
 the prosaic realities of life, shared with him I " 
 
 Miss Bartram felt herself growing dizzy. Behind the 
 impulse which bade her cast herself upon his breast 
 swept such a hot wave of shame and pain that her face 
 burned, and she dropped her eyelids to shut out the sight 
 of his face. But, for one endless second, the sweeter 
 voice spoke through their clasped hands. Perhaps he 
 kissed hers ; she did not know ; she only heard herself 
 murmur : 
 
 " Good-bye ! Pray go on ; I will rest here." 
 
 She sat down upon a bank by the roadside, turned 
 away her head, and closed her eyes. It was long before 
 the tumult in her nature subsided. If she reflected, with 
 a sense of relief, " nothing was said," the thought imme 
 diately followed, " but all is known." It was impossible, 
 yes, clearly impossible j and then came such a wild 
 longing, such an assertion of the right and truth and jus 
 tice of love, as made her seem a miserable coward, the 
 veriest slave of conventionalities. 
 
 Out of this struggle dawned self-knowledge, and the 
 strength which is born of it. When she returned to the 
 house, she was pale and weary, but capable of respond 
 ing to Betty Rambo s constant cheerfulness. The next 
 day she left for the city, without having seen Leonard 
 Clare again. 
 
 II. 
 
 HENRY RAMBO married, and brought a new mistress 
 to the farm-house. Betty married, and migrated to a 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 295 
 
 new home in another part of the State. Leonard Clare 
 went back to his trade, and returned no more in harvest 
 time. So the pleasant farm by the Brandy wine, having 
 served its purpose as a background, will be seen no more 
 in this history. 
 
 Miss Bartram s inmost life, as a woman, was no lon 
 ger the same. The point of view from which she had 
 beheld the world was shifted, and she was obliged to 
 remodel all her feelings and ideas to conform to it. But 
 the process was gradual, and no one stood near enough 
 to her to remark it. She was occasionally suspected of 
 that " eccentricity" which, in a woman of five-ancl-twenty, 
 is looked upon as the first symptom of a tendency to old- 
 maidenhood, but which is really the sign of an earnest 
 heart struggling with the questions of life. In the society 
 of cities, most men give only the shallow, flashy surface 
 of their natures to the young women they meet, and Miss 
 Bartram, after that revelation of the dumb strength of an 
 ignorant man, sometimes grew very impatient of the plati 
 tudes and affectations which came to her clad in elegant 
 words, and accompanied by irreproachable manners. 
 
 She had various suitors ; for that sense of grace and 
 repose and sweet feminine power, which hung around 
 her like an atmosphere, attracted good and true men to 
 wards her. To some, indeed, she gave that noble, un 
 troubled friendship which is always possible between the 
 best of the two sexes, and when she was compelled to 
 deny the more intimate appeal, it was done with such 
 frank sorrow, such delicate tenderness, that she never lost 
 
296 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 the friend in losing the lover. But, as one year after an 
 other went by, and the younger members of her familj 
 fell off into their separate domestic orbits, she began to 
 shrink a little at the perspective of a lonely life, growing 
 lonelier as it receded from the Present. 
 
 By this time, Leonard Clare had become almost a 
 dream to her. She had neither seen him nor heard of 
 him since he let go her hand on that memorable evening 
 beside the stream. He was a strange, bewildering chance, 
 a cypher concealing a secret which she could not intelli 
 gently read. Why should she keep the memory of that 
 power which was, perhaps, some unconscious quality of 
 his nature (no, it was not so ! something deeper than rea 
 son cried :), or long since forgotten, if felt, by him ? 
 
 The man whom she most esteemed came back to her. 
 She knew the ripeness and harmony of his intellect, the 
 nobility of his character, and the generosity of a feeling 
 which would be satisfied with only a partial return. She 
 felt sure, also, that she should never possess a sentiment 
 nearer to love than that which pleaded his cause in her 
 heart. But her hand lay quiet in his, her pulses were 
 calm when he spoke, and his face, manly and true as it 
 was, never invaded her dreams. All questioning was 
 vain ; her heart gave no solution of the riddle. Perhaps 
 her own want was common to all lives : then she was 
 herishing a selfish ideal, and rejecting the positive good 
 offered to her hands. 
 
 After long hesitation she yielded. The predictions of 
 society came to naught ; instead of becoming an " eccen- 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 297 
 
 trie " spinster, Miss Bartram was announced to be the 
 affianced bride of Mr. Lawrie. A few weeks and months 
 rolled around, and when the wedding-day came, she al 
 most hailed it as the port of refuge, where she should find 
 a placid and peaceful life. 
 
 They were married by an aged clergyman, a relative 
 of the bridegroom. The cross-street where his chapel 
 stood, fronting a Methodist church both of the simplest 
 form of that architecture fondly supposed to be Gothic, 
 was quite blocked up by the carriages of the party. The 
 pews were crowded with elegant guests, the altar was 
 decorated with flowers, and the ceremony lacked nothing 
 of its usual solemn beauty. The bride was pale, but 
 strikingly calm and self-possessed, and when she moved 
 towards the door as Mrs. Lawrie, on her husband s arm, 
 many matrons, recalling their own experience, marvelled 
 at her unflurried dignity. 
 
 Just as they passed out the door, and the bridal car 
 riage was summoned, a singular thing happened. An 
 other bridal carriage drew up from the opposite side, and 
 a newly wedded pair came forth from the portal of the 
 Methodist church. Both parties stopped, face to face, 
 divided only by the narrow street. Mrs. Lawrie first 
 noticed the flushed cheeks of the other bride, her white 
 dress, rather showy than elegant, and the heavy gold or 
 naments she wore. Then she turned to the bridegroom. 
 He was tall and well-formed, dressed like a gentleman, but 
 like one who is not yet unconscious of his dress, and had 
 the air of a man accustomed to exercise some authoiity 
 
 13* 
 
298 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 She saw his face, and instantly all other faces disap 
 peared. From the opposite brink of a tremendous gulf 
 she looked into his eyes, and their blended ray of love 
 and despair pierced her to the heart. There was a roaring 
 in her ears, followed a long sighing sound, like that of the 
 wind on some homeless waste j she leaned more heavily 
 on her husband s arm, leaned against his shoulder, slid 
 slowly down into his supporting clasp, and knew no 
 more. 
 
 " She s paying for her mock composure, after all," 
 said the matrons. " It must have been a great effort" 
 
 III. 
 
 TEN years afterwards, Mrs. Lawrie went on board a 
 steamer at Southampton, bound for New York. She 
 was travelling alone, having been called suddenly from 
 Europe by the approaching death of her aged father. 
 For two or three days after sailing, the thick, rainy spring 
 weather kept all below, except a few hardy gentlemen who 
 crowded together on the lee of the smoke-stack, and kept 
 up a stubborn cheerfulness on a very small capital of com 
 fort. There were few cabin-passengers on board, but the 
 usual crowd of emigrants in the steerage. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrie s face had grown calmer and colder du 
 ring these years. There was yet no gray in her hair, no 
 wrinkles about her clear eyes ; each feature appeared to 
 be the same, but the pale, monotonous color which had 
 replaced the warm bloom of her youth, gave them a dif- 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 299 
 
 ferent character. The gracious dignity of her manner, the 
 mellow tones of her voice, still expressed her unchanging 
 goodness, yet those who met her were sure to feel, in some 
 inexplicable way, that to be good is not always to be hap 
 py. Perhaps, indeed, her manner was older than her face 
 and form : she still attracted the interest of men, but with 
 a certain doubt and reserve. 
 
 Certain it is that when she made her appearance on 
 deck, glad of the blue sky and sunshine, and threw back 
 her hood to feel the freshness of the sea air, all eyes fol 
 lowed her movements, except those of a forlorn individ 
 ual, who, muffled in his cloak and apparently sea-sick, lay 
 upon one of the benches. The captain presently joined 
 her, and the gentlemen saw that she was bright and per 
 fectly self-possessed in conversation : some of them im 
 mediately resolved to achieve an acquaintance. The dull, 
 passive existence of the beginning of every voyage, seemed 
 to be now at an end. It was time for the little society of 
 the vessel to awake, stir itself, and organize a life of its 
 own, for the few remaining days. 
 
 That night, as Mrs. Lawrie was sleeping in her berth, 
 she suddenly awoke with a singular feeling of dread and 
 suspense. She listened silently, but for some time distin 
 guished none other than the small sounds of night on ship 
 board the indistinct orders, the dragging of ropes, the 
 creaking of timbers, the dull, regular jar of the engine, and 
 the shuffling noise of feet overhead. But, ere long, she 
 seemed to catch faint, distant sounds, that seemed like 
 cries ; then came hurry and confusion on deck ; then 
 
300 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 voices in the cabin, one of which said : " they never can 
 get it under, at this rate ! " 
 
 She rose, dressed herself hastily, and made her way 
 through pale and excited stewards, and the bewildered 
 passengers who were beginning to rush from their state 
 rooms, to the deck. In the wild tumult whic .i prevailed, 
 she might have been thrown down and trampled under 
 foot, had not a strong arm seized her around the waist, 
 and borne her towards the stern, where there were but few 
 persons. 
 
 "Wait here ! " said a voice, and her protector plunged 
 into the crowd. 
 
 She saw, instantly, the terrible fate which had fallen 
 upon the vessel. The bow was shrouded in whirls of 
 smoke, through which dull red flashes began to show 
 themselves ; and all the length and breadth of the deck was 
 filled with a screaming, struggling, fighting mass of des 
 perate human beings. She saw the captain, officers, and 
 a few of the crew working in vain against the disorder : 
 she saw the boats filled before they were lowered, and 
 heard the shrieks as they were capsized ; she saw spars and 
 planks and benches cast overboard, and maddened men 
 plunging after them ; and then, like the sudden opening 
 of the mouth of Hell, the relentless, triumphant fire burst 
 through the forward deck and shot up to the foreyard. 
 
 She was leaning against the mizen shrouds, between 
 the coils of rope. Nobody appeared to notice her, a! 
 though the quarter-deck was fast filling with persons driven 
 back by the fire, yet still shrinking from the terror and 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 301 
 
 uncertainty of the sea. She thought : " It is but death 
 why should I fear ? The waves are at hand, to save me 
 from all suffering." And the collective horror of hundreds 
 of beings did not so overwhelm her as she had both fan. 
 cied and feared ; the tragedy of each individual life was lost 
 in the confusion, and was she not a sharer in their doom ? 
 
 Suddenly, a man stood before her with a cork life- 
 preserver in his hands, and buckled it around her securely, 
 under the arms. He was panting and almost exhausted, 
 yet he strove to make his voice firm, and even cheerful, as 
 he said : 
 
 " We fought the cowardly devils as long as there was 
 any hope. Two boats are off, and two capsized ; in ten 
 minutes more every soul must take to the water. Trust 
 to me, and I will save you or die with you ! " 
 
 " What else can I do ? " she answered. 
 
 With a few powerful strokes of an axe, he broke off 
 the top of the pilot-house, bound two or three planks to 
 it with ropes, and dragged the mass to the bulwarks. 
 
 "The minute this goes," he then said to her, "you 
 go after it, and I follow. Keep still when you rise to the 
 surface." 
 
 She left the shrouds, took hold of the planks at his 
 side, and they heaved the rude raft into the sea. In an 
 instant she was seized and whirled over the side ; she 
 instinctively held her breath, felt a shock, felt herself 
 swallowed up in an awful, fathomless coldness, and then 
 found herself floating below the huge towering hull which 
 slowly drifted away. 
 
302 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 In another moment there was one at her side. " Laj 
 your hand on my shoulder," he said ; and when she did 
 so, swam for the raft, which they soon reached. While 
 she supported herself by one of the planks he so arranged 
 and bound together the pieces of timber that in a short 
 time they could climb upon them and rest, not much 
 washed by the waves. The ship drifted further and 
 further, casting a faint, though awful, glare over the sea, 
 until the light was suddenly extinguished, as the hull sank. 
 
 The dawn was in the sky by this time, and as it broad 
 ened they could see faint specks here and there, where 
 others, like themselves, clung to drifting spars. Mrs. Lawrie 
 shuddered with cold and the reaction from an excitement 
 which had been far more powerful than she knew at the time. 
 
 Her preserver then took off his coat, wrapped it 
 around her, and produced a pocket-flask, saying ; " this 
 will support us the longest ; it is all I could find, or bring 
 with me." 
 
 She sat, leaning against his shoulder, though partly 
 turned away from him : all she could say was : "you are 
 very good." 
 
 After awhile he spoke, and his voice seemed changed 
 to her ears. " You must be thinking of Mr. Lawrie. 
 It will, indeed, be terrible for him to hear of the disaster, 
 before knowing that you are saved." 
 
 "God has spared him that distress," she answered 
 " Mr. Lawrie died, a year ago." 
 
 She felt a start in the strong frame upon which she 
 leaned. After a few minutes of silence, he slowly shifted 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 303 
 
 his position towards her, yet still without facing her, and 
 said, almost in a whisper : 
 
 "You have said that I am very good. Will you put 
 your hand in mine ? " 
 
 She stretched hers eagerly and gratefully towards him. 
 What had happen ed ? Through all the numbness of her 
 blood, there sprang a strange new warmth from his strong 
 palm, and a pulse, which she had almost forgotten as a 
 dream of the past, began to beat through her frame. She 
 turned around all a-tremble, and saw his face in the glow 
 of the coming day. 
 
 " Leonard Clare ! " she cried. 
 
 " Then you have not forgotten me ? " 
 
 " Could one forget, when the other remembers ? " 
 
 The words came involuntarily from her lips. She 
 felt what they implied, the moment afterwards, and said 
 no more. But he kept her hand in his. 
 
 " Mrs. Lawrie," he began, after another silence, " we 
 are hanging by a hair on the edge of life, but I shall glad 
 ly let that hair break, since I may tell you now, purely 
 and in the hearing of God, how I have tried to rise to you 
 out of the low place in which you found me. At first 
 you seemed too far ; but you yourself led me the first step 
 of the way, and I have steadily kept my eyes on you, and 
 followed it. When I had learned my trade, I came to 
 the city. No labor was too hard for me, no study too 
 difficult. I was becoming a new man, I saw all that was 
 still lacking, and how to reach it, and I watched you, un 
 known, at a distance. Then I heard of your engagement . 
 
304 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 you were lost, and something of which I had begun to 
 dream, became insanity. I determined to trample it out 
 of my life. The daughter of the master-builder, whose 
 first assistant I was, had always favored me in her society \ 
 and I soon persuaded her to love me. I fancied, too, 
 that I loved her as most married men seemed to love their 
 wives; the union would advance me to a partnership in 
 her father s business, and my fortune would then be secur 
 ed. You know what happened ; but you do not know 
 how the sight of your face planted the old madness again 
 in my life, and made me a miserable husband, a misera 
 ble man of wealth, almost a scoffer at the knowledge I 
 had acquired for your sake. 
 
 " When my wife died, taking an only child with her, 
 there was nothing left to me except the mechanical am 
 bition to make myself, without you, what I imagined I 
 might have become, through you. I have studied and 
 travelled, lived alone and in society, until your world 
 seemed to be almost mine : but you were not there ! " 
 
 The sun had risen, while they sat, rocking on their 
 frail support. Her hand still lay in his, and her head 
 rested on his shoulder. Every word he spoke sank into 
 her heart with a solemn sweetness, in which her whole 
 nature was silent and satisfied. Why should she speak ? 
 He knew all. 
 
 Yes. it seemed that he knew. His arm stole around 
 her, and her head was drawn from his shoulder to the 
 warm breadth of his breast. Something hard pressed hei 
 cheek, and she lifted her hand to move it aside. He 
 
MISS BARTRAM S TROUBLE. 305 
 
 drew forth a flat medallion case ; and to the unconscious 
 question in her face, such a sad, tender smile came to his 
 lips, that she could not repress a sudden pain. Was it 
 the miniature of his dead wife ? 
 
 He opened the case, and showed her, under the glass, 
 a faded, pressed flower. 
 
 " What is it? "she asked. 
 
 "The Brandywine cowslip you dropped, when you 
 spoke to me in the lane. Then it was that you showed 
 me the first step of the way." 
 
 She laid her head again upon his bosom. Hour after 
 hour they sat, and the light swells of the sea heaved them 
 aimlessly to and fro, and the sun burned them, and the 
 spray drenched their limbs. At last Leonard Clare 
 roused himself and looked around : he felt numb and 
 faint, and he saw, also, that her strength was rapidly 
 failing. 
 
 " We cannot live much longer, I fear," he said, clasp 
 ing her closely in his arms. " Kiss me once, darling, and 
 then we will die." 
 
 She clung to him and kissed him. 
 
 "There is life, not death, in your lips!" he cried. 
 "Oh, God, if we should live!" 
 
 He rose painfully to his feet, stood, tottering, on the 
 raft, and looked across the waves. Presently he began 
 to tremble, then to sob like a child, and at last spoke, 
 through his tears : 
 
 " A sail ! a sail ! and heading towards us 1 n 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 
 
 R. EDITOR, If you ever read 
 the " Burroak Banner" (which you 
 will find among your exchanges, as 
 the editor publishes your prospec 
 tus for six weeks every year, and 
 sends no bill to you) my name will 
 not be that of a stranger. Let me throw aside all affec 
 tation of humility, and say that I hope it is already and not 
 unfavorably familiar to you. I am informed by those who 
 claim to know that the manuscripts of obscure writers are 
 passed over by you editors without examination in short, 
 that I must first have a name, if I hope to make one. The 
 fact that an article of three hundred and seventy-five 
 pages, which I sent, successively, to the " North Ameri 
 can Review," the "Catholic World," and the "Radical," 
 was in each case returned to me with my knot on the tape 
 by which it was tied, convinces me that such is indeed the 
 case. A few years ago I should not have meekly submit 
 ted to treatment like this; but late experiences have 
 taught me the vanity of many womanly dreams. 
 
308 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 You are acquainted with the part I took ;i am sure 
 you must have seen it in the "Burroak Banner" eight 
 years ago) in creating that public sentiment in our favor 
 which invested us with all the civil and political rights of 
 men. How the editors of the " Revolution," to which 1 
 subscribe, and the conventions in favor of the equal rights 
 of women, recently held in Boston and other cities, have 
 failed to notice our noble struggle, is a circumstance for 
 which I will not try to account I will only say and it is 
 a hint which some persons will understand that there are 
 other forms of jealousy than those which spring from love. 
 
 It is, indeed, incredible that so little is known, outside 
 the State of Atlantic, of the experiment I mean the 
 achievement of the last eight years. While the war 
 lasted, we did not complain that our work was ignored j 
 but now that our sisters in other States are acting as if LI 
 complete unconsciousness of what we have done no* 
 that we need their aid and they need ours (but in differ 
 ent ways), it is time that somebody should speak. Were 
 Selina Whiston living, I should leave the task to her pen ; 
 she never recovered from the shock and mortification of 
 her experiences in the State Legislature, in 64 but I 
 will not anticipate the history. Of all the band of female 
 iconoclasts, as the Hon. Mr. Screed called us in jest 
 it was no jest afterwards, his image being the first to go 
 down of all, I say, " some are married, and some are 
 dead," and there is really no one left so familiar with the 
 circumstances as I am, and equally competent to give a 
 report of them. 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 309 
 
 Mr. Spelter (the editor of the " Burroak Banner") 
 suggests that I must be brief, if I wish my words to reach 
 the ears of the millions for whom they are designed ; and 
 I shall do my best to be so. If I were not obliged to be 
 gin at the very beginning, and if the interests of Atlantic 
 had not been swalloWetl up, like those of other little States, 
 in the whirlpool of national politics, I should have much 
 less to say But if Mr. George Fenian Brain and Mrs. 
 Candy Station do not choose to inform the public of either 
 the course or the results of our struggle, am I to blame ? 
 If I could have attended the convention in Boston, and 
 had been allowed to speak and I am sure the distin 
 guished Chairwoman would have given me a chance it 
 would have been the best way, no doubt, to set our case 
 before the world. 
 
 I must first tell you how it was that we succeeded in 
 forcing the men to accept our claims, so much in advance 
 of other States. We were indebted for it chiefly to the 
 skill and adroitness of Selina Whiston. The matter had 
 been agitated, it is true, for some years before, and as 
 early as 1856, a bill, drawn up by Mrs. Whiston herself, 
 had been introduced into the Legislature, where it re 
 ceived three votes. Moreover, we had held meetings 
 in almost every election precinct in the State, and our An 
 nual Fair (to raise funds) at Gaston, while the Legislature 
 was in session, was always very brilliant and successful. 
 So the people were not entirely unprepared. 
 
 Although our State had gone for Fremont in 1856, by 
 a small majority, the Democrats afterwards elected their 
 
310 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 Governor ; and both parties, therefore, had hopes of suc 
 cess in 1860. The canvass began early, and was very 
 animated. Mrs. Whiston had already inaugurated the 
 custom of attending political meetings, and occasionally 
 putting a question to the stump orator no matter of which 
 party ; of sometimes, indeed, taking the stump herself, 
 after the others had exhausted their wind. She was very 
 witty, as you know, and her stories were so good and so 
 capitally told, that neither Democrat nor Republican 
 thought of leaving the ground while she was upon the stand. 
 
 Now, it happened that our Congressional District was 
 one of the closest. It happened, also, that our candidate 
 (I am a Republican, and so is Mr. Strongitharm) was 
 rather favorably inclined to the woman s cause. It hap 
 pened, thirdly and this .is the seemingly insignificant 
 pivot upon which we whirled into triumph that he, Mr. 
 Wrangle, and the opposing candidate, Mr. Turn-brill, had 
 arranged to hold a joint meeting at Burroak. This meet 
 ing took place on a magnificent day, just after the oats- 
 harvest; and everybody, for twenty miles around, was 
 there. Mrs. Whiston, together with Sarah Pincher, 
 Olympia Knapp, and several other prominent advocates 
 of our cause, met at my house in the morning ; and we 
 all agreed that it was time to strike a blow. The rest of 
 us magnanimously decided to take no part in the concert 
 ed plan, though very eager to do so. Selina Whiston de 
 clared that she must have the field to herself; and when 
 she said that, we knew she meant it. 
 
 It was generally known that she was on the ground 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 311 
 
 In fact, she spent most of the time while Messis. Wrangle 
 and Tumbrill were speaking, in walking about through 
 the crowds so after an hour apiece for the gentlemen, 
 and then fifteen minutes apiece for a rejoinder, and the 
 Star Spangled Banner from the band, for both sides, we 
 were not a bit surprised to hear a few cries of " Whiston ! " 
 from the audience. Immediately we saw the compact 
 gray bonnet and brown serge dress (she knew what would 
 go through a crowd without tearing !) splitting the wedge 
 of people on the steps leading to the platform. I noticed 
 that the two Congressional candidates looked at each 
 other and smiled, in spite of the venomous charges they 
 had just been making. 
 
 Well I won t attempt to report her speech, though it 
 was her most splendid effort (as people will say, when it 
 was no effort to her at all) . But the substance of it was 
 this : after setting forth woman s wrongs and man s tyranny, 
 and taxation without representation, and an equal chance, 
 and fair-play, and a struggle for life (which you know all 
 about from the other conventions), she turned squarely 
 around to the two candidates and said : 
 
 " Now to the practical application. You, Mr. Wran 
 gle, and you, Mr. Tumbrill, want to be elected to Congress. 
 The district is a close one : you have both counted the 
 votes in advance (oh, I know your secrets !) and there 
 isn t a difference of a hundred in your estimates. A very 
 little will turn the scale either way. Perhaps a woman s 
 influence perhaps my voice might do it. But I will 
 you an equal chance. So much power is left to 
 
312 TALES OF HOME 
 
 woman, despite what you withhold, that we, the women 
 of Putnam, Shinnebaug, and Rancocus counties, are able 
 to decide which of you shall be elected. Either of you 
 would give a great deal to have a majority of the intelli 
 gent women of the District on your side : it would a ready 
 be equivalent to success. Now, to show that we under 
 stand the political business from which you have exclu 
 ded us to prove that we are capable of imitating the 
 noble example of men we offer to sell our influence, as 
 they their votes, to the highest bidder ! " 
 
 There was great shouting and cheering among the 
 people at this, but the two candidates, somehow or other, 
 didn t seem much amused. 
 
 " I stand here," she continued, " in the interest of my 
 struggling sisters, and with authority to act for them. 
 Which of you will bid the most not in offices or material 
 advantages, as is the way of your parties, but in the way 
 of help to the Woman s Cause? Which of you will here 
 publicly pledge himself to say a word for us, from now 
 until election-day, whenever he appears upon the stump ? 
 
 There was repeated cheering, and cries of " Got em 
 there ! " (Men are so vulgar). 
 
 I pause for a reply. Shall they not answer me ? " she 
 continued, turning to the audience. 
 
 " Then there were tremendous cries of " Yes I yes ! 
 Wrangle ! Tumbrill ! " 
 
 Mr. Wrangle looked at Mr. Tumbrill, and made a 
 motion with his head, signifying that he should speak. 
 Then Mr. Tumbrill looked at Mr. Wrangle, and made a 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 313 
 
 motion that he should speak. The people saw all this, 
 and laughed and shouted as if they would never finish. 
 
 Mr. Wrangle, on second thoughts (this is my private 
 surmise), saw that boldness would just then be popular, 
 so he stepped forward. 
 
 " Do I understand," he said, "that my fair and elo 
 quent friend demands perfect political and civil equality 
 for her sex ? " 
 
 "I do ! " exclaimed Selina Whiston, in her firmest 
 manner. 
 
 " Let me be more explicit," he continued. " You 
 mean precisely the same rights, the same duties, the 
 same obligations, the same responsibilities ? " 
 
 She repeated the phrases over after him, affirmatively 
 with an emphasis which I never heard surpassed. 
 
 " Pardon me once more," said Mr. Wrangle ; " the 
 right to vote, to hold office, to practise law, theology* 
 medicine, to take part in all municipal affairs, to sit on 
 juries, to be called upon to aid in the execution of the 
 law, to aid in suppressing disturbances, enforcing public 
 order, and performing military duty ? " 
 
 Here there were loud cheers from the audience ; and 
 a good many voices cried out : " Got her there ! " (Men 
 are so very vulgar.) 
 
 Mrs. Whiston looked troubled for a moment, but she 
 saw that a moment s hesitation would be fatal to oui 
 scheme, so she brought out her words as if each one 
 were a maul-blow on the butt-end of a wedge 
 
 " All that we demand ! " 
 4 
 
TALES OF HOME. 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Wrangle, " I bid my support in 
 exchange for the women s ! Just what the speaker de 
 mands, without exception or modification equal privi 
 leges, rights, duties and obligations, without regard to 
 Ihe question of sex ! Is that broad enough ? " 
 
 I was all in a tremble when it came to that. Some 
 how Mr. Wrangle s acceptance of the bid did not in 
 spire me, although it promised so much. I had antici 
 pated opposition, dissatisfaction, tumult. So had Mrs. 
 Whiston, and I could see, and the crowd could see, that 
 she was not greatly elated. 
 
 Mr. Wrangle made a very significant bow to Mr. 
 Tumbrill, and then sat down. There were cries of 
 " Tumbrill ! " and that gentleman none of us, of course, 
 believing him sincere, for we knew his private views 
 came forward and made exactly the same pledge. I will 
 do both parties the justice to say that they faithfully kept 
 their word ; nay, it was generally thought the repetition 
 of their brief pleas for woman, at some fifty meetings 
 before election came, had gradually conducted them to 
 the belief that they were expressing their own personal 
 sentiments. The mechanical echo in public thus de 
 veloped into an opinion in private. My own political 
 experience has since demonstrated to me that this is a 
 phenomenon very common among men. 
 
 The impulse generated at that meeting gradually 
 ^wead all over the State. We the leaders of the 
 W > ten s Movement did not rest until we had exacted 
 thi one pledge from a.l he candidates of both parties ; 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 315 
 
 and the nearer it drew towards election-day, the more 
 prominence was given, in the public meetings, to the 
 illustration and discussion of the subject. Our State 
 went for Lincoln by a majority of 2763 (as you will find 
 by consulting the "Tribune Almanac"), and Mr. Wrangle 
 was elected to Congress, having received a hundred and 
 forty-two more votes than his opponent. Mr. Tumbril) 
 has always attributed his defeat to his want of courage 
 in not taking up at once the glove which Selina Whiston 
 threw down. 
 
 I think I have said enough to make it clear how the 
 State of Atlantic came to be the first to grant equal civ! 
 and political rights to women. When the Legislature oJ 
 i86o- 6i met at Gaston, we estimated that we might 
 count upon fifty-three out of the seventy-one Republican 
 Senators and Assemblymen, and on thirty-four out of the 
 sixty-five Democrats. This would give a majority of 
 twenty-eight in the House, and ten in the Senate. Should 
 the bill pass, there was still a possibility that it might be 
 vetoed by the Governor, of whom we did not feel sure. 
 We therefore arranged that our Annual Fair should be 
 held a fortnight later than usual, and that the proceeds 
 (a circumstance known only to the managers) should be 
 devoted to a series of choice suppers, at which we enter 
 tained, not only the Governor and our friends in both 
 Houses, but also, like true Christians, our legislatorial 
 enemies. Olympia Knapp, who, you know, is so very 
 beautiful, presided at these entertainments. She put 
 forth all her splendid powers, and with more effect than 
 
316 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 any of us suspected. On the day before the bill reached 
 its third reading, the Governor made her an offer of 
 marriage. She came to the managers in great agitation, 
 and laid the matter before them, stating that she was 
 Dverwhelmed with surprise (though Sarah Pincher always 
 maintained that she wasn t in the least), and asking their 
 advice. We discussed the question for four hours, and 
 finally decided that the interests of the cause would 
 oblige her to accept the Governor s hand. " Oh, I am so 
 glad !" cried Olympia, " for I accepted him at once." It 
 was a brave, a noble deed ! 
 
 Now, I would ask those who assert that women are 
 incapable of conducting the business of politics, to say 
 whether any set of men, of either party, could have 
 played their cards more skilfully ? Even after the 
 campaign was over we might have failed, had it not been 
 for the suppers. We owed this idea, like the first, to the 
 immortal Selina Whiston. A lucky accident as mo 
 mentous in its way as the fall of an apple to Newton, or 
 the flying of a kite to Dr. Franklin gave her the secret 
 principle by which the politics of men are directed. Her 
 house in Whittletown was the half of a double frame 
 building, and the rear-end of the other part was the 
 private office of but no, I will not mention the name 
 a lawyer and a politician. He was known as a " wire 
 puller," and the other wire-pullers of his party used to 
 meet in his office and discuss matters. Mrs. Whiston 
 always asserted that there was a mouse-hole through the 
 partition ; but she had energy enough to have made a 
 hole herself, for the sake of the cause. 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 3,7 
 
 She never would tell us all she overheard. It is 
 enough," she would say, " that I know how the thing is 
 done." 
 
 I remember that we were all considerably startled u hec 
 she first gave us an outline of her plan. On my saying 
 that I trusted the dissemination of our principles would 
 soon bring us a great adhesion, she burst out with : 
 
 " Principles ! Why if we trust to principles, we shall 
 never succeed ! We must rely upon influences, as the 
 men do j we must fight them with their own weapons, 
 and even then we are at a disadvantage, because we can 
 not very well make use of whiskey and cigars." 
 
 We yielded, because we had grown accustomed to be 
 guided by her ; and, moreover, we had seen, time and 
 again, how she could succeed as, for instance, in the 
 Nelson divorce case (but I don t suppose you ever heard 
 of that), when the matter seemed nigh hopeless to all of 
 us. The history of 1860 and the following winter proves 
 that in her the world has lost a stateswoman. Mr. 
 Wrangle and Governor Battle have both said to me 
 that they never knew a measure to be so splendidly en 
 gineered both before the public and in the State Legis 
 lature. 
 
 After the bill had been passed, and signed by the 
 Governor, and so had become a law, and the grand 
 Women s Jubilee had been held at Gaston, .the excite 
 ment subsided. It would be nearly a year to the next 
 State election, and none of the women seemed to care 
 for the local and municipal elections in the spring. Be 
 
318 TALES OF HOME 
 
 sides, there was a good deal of anxiety among them in 
 regard to the bill, which was drawn up in almost 
 the exact terms used by Mr. Wrangle at the political 
 meeting. In fact, we always have suspected that he 
 wrote it. The word " male" was simply omitted from 
 all laws. "Nothing is changed," said Mrs. Whiston, 
 quoting Charles X., " there are only 201,758 more citi 
 zens in Atlantic ! " 
 
 This was in January, 1861, you must remember ; 
 and the shadow of the coming war began to fall over 
 us. Had the passage of our bill been postponed a 
 fortnight it would have been postponed indefinitely, for 
 other and (for the men) more powerful excitements fol 
 lowed one upon the other. Even our jubilee was thinly 
 attended, and all but two of the members on whom 
 we relied for speeches failed us. Governor Battle, who 
 was to have presided, was at Washington, and Olympia, 
 already his wife, accompanied him. (I may add that she 
 has never since taken any active part with us. They 
 have been in Europe for the last three years.) 
 
 Most of the women here in Burroak, at least ex 
 pressed a feeling of disappointment that there was no 
 palpable change in their lot, no sense of extended liberty, 
 such as they imagined would come to transform them 
 into brighter and better creatures. They supposed that 
 they would at once gain in importance in the eyes of the 
 men ; but the men were now so preoccupied by the 
 events at the South that they seemed to have forgotten 
 our political value. Speaking for myself, as a good 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 319 
 
 Union woman, I felt that I must lay aside, for a time, the 
 interests of my sex. Once, it is true, I proposed to 
 accompany Mr. Strongitharm to a party caucus at the 
 Wrangle House ; but he so suddenly discovered that he 
 had business in another part of the town, that I withdrew 
 my proposition. 
 
 As the summer passed over, and the first and second 
 call for volunteers had been met, and more than met, by 
 the patriotic men of the State (how we blessed them !) 
 we began to take courage, and to feel, that if our new 
 civil position brought us no very tangible enjoyment, 
 at least it imposed upon us no very irksome daties. 
 
 The first practical effect of the new law cane to light 
 at the August term of our County Court. The names of 
 seven women appeared on the list of jurors, but only 
 three of them answered to their names. One, the wife of 
 a poor farmer, was excused by the Judge, as there was no 
 one to look after six small children in her absence ; 
 another was a tailoress, with a quantity of work on hand, 
 some of which she proposed bringing with her into Court, 
 in order to save time ; but as this could not be allowed, 
 she made so much trouble that she was also finally let 
 off. Only one, therefore, remained to serve; fortunately 
 for the credit of our sex, she was both able and willing 
 to do so ; and we afterward made a subscription, and 
 presented her with a silver fish-knife, on account of her 
 having tired out eleven jurymen, and brought in a verdict 
 of $5,000 damages against a young man whom she con 
 victed of seduction. She told me that no one would ever 
 
TALES OF HOME. 
 
 know what she endured during those three days ; but the 
 morals of our county have been better ever since. 
 
 Mr. Spelter told me that his State exchanges showed 
 that there had been difficulties of the same kind in all the 
 other counties. In Mendip (the county-town of which ii 
 Whittletown, Mrs. Whiston s home) the immediate result 
 had been the decision, on the part of the Commissioners, 
 to build an addition at the rear of the Court-House, with 
 large, commodious and well-furnished jury-rooms, so 
 arranged that a comfortable privacy was secured to the 
 jury-women. I did my best to have the same improve 
 ment adopted here, -but, alas ! I have not the ability of 
 Selina Whiston in such matters, and there is nothing to 
 this day but the one vile, miserable room, properly fur 
 nished M no particular except spittoons. 
 
 The nominating Conventions were held in August, 
 also, and we were therefore called upon to move at once f 
 in order to secure our fair share. Much valuable time 
 had been lost in discussing a question of policy, namely, 
 whether we should attach ourselves to the two parties 
 already in existence, according to our individual inclina 
 tions, or whether we should form a third party for our 
 selves. We finally accepted the former proposition, and 
 I think wisely ; for the most of us were so ignorant of 
 political tricks and devices, that we still needed to learn 
 from the men, and we could not afford to draw upon us 
 the hostility of both parties, in the very infancy of our 
 movement 
 
 Never in my life did I have such a task, as in drum- 
 
MRS. STRONGITH ARM S REPORT. 32! 
 
 ming up a few women to attend the primary township meet 
 ing for the election of delegates. It was impossible to make 
 them comprehend its importance. Even after I had done 
 my best to explain the technicalities of male politics, and 
 fancied that I had made some impression, the answer 
 would be : " Well, I d go, I m sure, just to oblige you, 
 but then there s the tomatoes to be canned " or, " I m so 
 behindhand with my darning and patching" or, "John 11 
 be sure to go, and there s no need of two from the same 
 house" and so on, until I was mightily discouraged. 
 There were just nine of us, all told, to about a hundred 
 men. I won t deny that our situation that night, at the 
 Wrangle House, was awkward and not entirely agreeable. 
 To be sure the landlord gave us the parlor, and most of 
 the men came in, now and then, to speak to us but 
 they managed the principal matters all by themselves, in 
 the bar-room, which was such a mess of smoke and stale 
 liquor smells, that it turned my stomach when I ventured 
 in for two minutes. 
 
 I don t think we should have accomplished much, but 
 for a cute idea of Mrs. Wilbur, the tinman s wife. She 
 went to the leaders, and threatened them that the women s 
 vote should be cast in a body for the Democratic candi 
 dates, unless we were considered in making up the ticket 
 That helped : the delegates were properly instructed, and 
 the County Convention afterward nominated two men and 
 one woman as candidates for the Assembly. That woman 
 was as I need hardly say, for the world knows it my 
 self. I had not solicited the honor, and therefore could 
 14* 
 
322 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 not refuse, especially as my daughter Melissa was then 
 old enough to keep house in my absence. No woman 
 haa applied for the nomination for Sheriff, but there were 
 seventeen schoolmistresses anxious for the office of 
 County Treasurer. The only other nomination given to 
 the women, however, was that of Director (or rather, Di 
 rectress) of the Poor, which was conferred on Mrs. Bas- 
 sett, wife of a clergyman. 
 
 Mr. Strongitharm insisted that I should, in some wise, 
 prepare myself for my new duties, by reading various po 
 litical works, and I conscientiously tried to do so but, 
 dear me ! it was much more of a task than I supposed. 
 We had all read the debate on our bill, of course ; but I 
 always skipped the dry, stupid stuff about the tariff, and 
 finance, and stay laws and exemption laws, and railroad 
 company squabbles ; and for the life of me I can t see, to 
 this day, what connection there is between these things 
 and Women s Rights. But, as I said, I did my best, 
 with the help of Webster s Dictionary ; although the fur 
 ther I went the less I liked it. 
 
 As election-day drew nearer, our prospects looked 
 brighter. The Republican ticket, under the editorial 
 head of the " Burroak Banner," with my name and Mrs. 
 Bassett s among the men s, was such an evidence, that 
 many women, notably opposed to the cause, said : " We 
 didn t want the right, but since we have it, we shall make 
 use of it" This was exactly what Mrs. Whiston had fore< 
 told. We estimated that taking the County tickets all 
 over the State we had about one-twentieth of the Re- 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 323 
 
 publican, and one-fiftieth of the Democratic, nominations. 
 This was far from being our due, but still it was a good 
 beginning. 
 
 My husband insisted that I should go very early tc 
 the polls. I could scarcely restrain a tear of emotion as 
 I gave my first ballot into the hands of the judges. There 
 were not a dozen persons present, and the act did not 
 produce the sensation which I expected. One man cried 
 out : " Three cheers for our Assemblywoman ! " and the) 
 gave them ; and I thereupon returned home in the best 
 spirits. I devoted the rest of the day to relieving poorer 
 women, who could not have spared the time to vote, if I 
 had not, meanwhile, looked after their children. The last 
 was Nancy Black, the shoemaker s wife in our street, who 
 kept me waiting upon her till it was quite dark. When 
 she finally came, the skirt of her dress was ripped nearly 
 off, her hair was down and her comb broken ; but 
 she was triumphant, for Sam Black was with her, and 
 sober. " The first time since we were married, Mrs. 
 Strongitharm ! " she cried. Then she whispered to me, 
 as I was leaving : " And I ve killed his vote, anyhow ! " 
 
 When the count was made, our party was far ahead. 
 Up to this time, I think, the men of both parties had be 
 lieved that only a few women, here and there, would 
 avail themselves of their new right but they were 
 roundly mistaken. Although only ten per cent, of the 
 female voters went to the polls, yet three-fourths of them 
 voted the Republican ticket, which increased the majority 
 of that party, in the State, about eleven thousand. 
 
$24 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 It was amazing what an effect followed this result 
 The whole country would have rung with it, had we no! 
 been in the midst of war. Mr. Wrangle declared that he 
 had always been an earnest advocate of the women T s 
 cause. Governor Battle, in his next message, congratu 
 lated the State on the signal success of the experiment, 
 and the Democratic masses, smarting under their defeat, 
 cursed their leaders for not having been sharp enough 
 to conciliate the new element. The leaders themselves 
 said nothing, and in a few weeks the rank and file recov 
 ered their cheerfulness. Even Mrs. Whiston, with all her 
 experience, was a little puzzled by this change of mood. 
 Alas ! she was far from guessing the correct explanation. 
 
 It was a great comfort to me that Mrs. Whiston was 
 also elected to the Legislature. My husband had just 
 then established his manufactory of patent self-scouring 
 knife-blades (now so celebrated), and could not leave ; 
 so I was obliged to go up to Gaston all alone, when the 
 session commenced. There were but four of us Assem 
 blywomen, and although the men treated us with great 
 courtesy, I was that nervous that I seemed to detect 
 either commiseration or satire everywhere. Before I had 
 even taken my seat, I was addressed by fifteen or twenty 
 different gentlemen, either great capitalists, or great en 
 gineers, or distinguished lawyers, all interested in varioui 
 schemes for developing the resources of oui State by new 
 railroads, canals or ferries. I then began to comprehend 
 the grandeur of the Legislator s office. My voice could 
 assist in making possible these magnificent improvements 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 325 
 
 and I promised it to all. Mr. Filch, President of the 
 Shinnebaug and Great Western Consolidated Line, was 
 so delighted with my appreciation of his plan for reduc 
 ing the freight on grain from Nebraska, that he must have 
 written extravagant accounts of me to his wife ; for she 
 sent me, at Christmas, one of the loveliest shawls I ever 
 beheld. 
 
 I had frequently made short addresses at our public 
 meetings, and was considered to have my share of self- 
 possession ; but I never could accustom myself to the 
 keen, disturbing, irritating atmosphere of the Legislature. 
 Everybody seemed wide-awake and aggressive, instead 
 of pleasantly receptive; there were so many "points of 
 order," and what not ; such complete disregard, among 
 the members, of each other s feelings ; and, finally a 
 thing I could never understand, indeed such inconsis 
 tency and lack of principle in the intercourse of the two 
 parties. How could I feel assured of their sincerity, when 
 I saw the very men chatting and laughing together, in 
 the lobbies, ten minutes after they had been facing each 
 other like angry lions in the debate ? 
 
 Mrs. Whiston, also, had her trials of the same char 
 acter. Nothing ever annoyed her so much as a little 
 blunder she made, the week after the opening of the ses 
 sion. I have not yet mentioned that there was already a 
 universal dissatisfaction among the women, on account 
 of their being liable to military service. The war seemed 
 to have hardly begun, as yet, and conscription was already 
 talked about ; the women, therefore, clamored for an ex 
 
3~>6 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 emption on account of sex. Although we all felt that this 
 was a retrograde movement, the pressure was so great that 
 we yielded. Mrs. Whiston, reluctant at first, no sooner 
 made up her mind that the thing must be done, than she 
 furthered it with all her might. After several attempts to 
 introduce a bill, which were always cut off by some " point 
 of order," she unhappily lost her usual patience. 
 
 I don t know that I can exactly explain how it hap 
 pened, for what the men call "parliamentary tactics" al 
 ways made me ficlgetty. But the " previous question" 
 turned up (as it always seemed to me to do, at the wrong 
 time), and cut her off before she had spoken ten words. 
 
 " Mr. Speaker ! " she protested ; " there is no ques 
 tion, previous to this, which needs the consideration of 
 the house ! This is first in importance, and demands 
 your immediate " 
 
 " Order ! order I " came from all parts of the house. 
 
 " I am in order the right is always in order ! " she ex 
 claimed, getting more and more excited. " We women 
 are not going to be contented with the mere show of oui 
 rights on this floor ; we demand the substance " 
 
 And so she was going on, when there arose the most 
 fearful tumult. The upshot of it was, that the speaker 
 ordered the sergeant-at-arms to remove Mrs. Whiston ; 
 one of the members, more considerate, walked across the 
 floor to her, and tried to explain in what manner she was 
 violating the rules ; and in another minute she sat down, 
 so white, rigid and silent that it made me shake in my 
 shoes to look at her. 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 32; 
 
 " I have made a great blunder," she said to me, that 
 evening j " and it may set us back a little j but I shall re 
 cover my ground." Which she did, I assure you. She 
 cultivated the acquaintance of the leaders of both parties, 
 studied their tactics, and quietly waited for a good oppor 
 tunity to bring in her bill. At first, we thought it would 
 pass ; but one of the male members presently came out 
 with a speech, which dashed our hopes to nothing. He 
 simply took the groung! that there must be absolute equal 
 ity in citizenship ; that every privilege was balanced by a 
 duty, every trust accompanied with its responsibility. He 
 had no objection to women possessing equal rights with 
 men but to give them all civil rights and exempt them 
 from the most important obligation of service, would be, 
 he said, to create a privileged class a female aristocracy. 
 It was contrary to the spirit of our institutions. The 
 women had complained of taxation without representa 
 tion ; did they now claim the latter without the former ? 
 
 The people never look more than half-way into a sub 
 ject, and so this speech was immensely popular. I will 
 not give Mrs. Whiston s admirable reply ; for Mr. Spelter 
 informs me that you will not accept an article, if it should 
 make more than seventy or eighty printed pages. It is 
 enough that our bill was " killed," as the men say (a bru 
 tal word) j and the women of the State laid the blame of 
 the failure upon us. You may imagine that we suffered 
 under this injustice ; but worse was to come. 
 
 As I said before, a great many things came up in the 
 Legislature which I did not understand and, to be can- 
 
328 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 did, did not care to understand. But I was obliged to 
 vote, nevertheless, and in this extremity I depended 
 pretty much on Mrs. Whiston s counsel. We could not 
 well go to the private nightly confabs of the members 
 indeed, they did not invite us ; and when it came to the 
 issue of State bonds, bank charters, and such like, I felt 
 as if I were blundering along in the dark. 
 
 One day, I received, to my immense astonishment, a 
 hundred and more letters, all from the northern part of 
 our county. I opened them, one after the other, and 
 well, it is beyond my power to tell you what varieties of 
 indignation and abuse fell upon me. It seems that I had 
 voted against the bill to charter the Mendip Extension 
 Railroad Co. I had been obliged to vote for or against 
 so many things, that it was impossible to recollect them 
 all. However, I procured the printed journal, and, sure 
 enough ! there, among the nays, was " Strongitharm." It 
 was not a week after that and I was still suffering in 
 mind and body when the newspapers in the interest of 
 the Rancocus and Great Western Consolidated accused 
 me (not by name, but the same thing you know how 
 they do it) of being guilty of taking bribes. Mr. Filch, 
 of the Shinnebaug Consolidated had explained to me so 
 beautifully the superior advantages of his line, that the 
 Directors of the other company took their revenge in this 
 vile, abominable way. 
 
 That was only the beginning of my trouble. What 
 with these slanders and longing for the quiet of our deal 
 eld home at Burroak, I was almost sick ; yet the Legista 
 
MRS. STRONGITH ARM S REPORT. 329 
 
 lure sat on, and sat on, until I was nearly desperate, 
 Then one morning came a despatch from my husband . 
 " Melissa is drafted come home ! " How I made the 
 journey I can t tell ; I was in an agony of apprehension, 
 and when Mr. Strongitharm and Melissa both met me at 
 the Burroak Station, well and smiling, I fell into a hyster 
 ical fit of laughing and crying, for the first time in my life. 
 
 Billy Brandon, who was engaged to Melissa, came for 
 ward and took her place like a man ; he fought none the 
 tforse, let me tell you, because he represented a woman, 
 ind (I may as well say it now) he came home a Captain, 
 vithout a left arm but Melissa seems to have three arms 
 or his sake. 
 
 You have no idea what a confusion and lamentation 
 here was all over the State. A good many women were 
 drafted, and those who could neither get substitutes for 
 ove nor money, were marched to Gaston, where the re- 
 :ruiting Colonel was considerate enough to give them a 
 separate camp. In a week, however, the word came from 
 Washington that the Army Regulations of the United 
 States did not admit of their being received ; and they 
 came home blessing Mr. Stanton. This was the end of 
 drafting women in our State. 
 
 Nevertheless, the excitement created by the draft did 
 not subside at once. It was seized upon by the Demo 
 cratic leaders, as part of a plan already concocted, which 
 they then proceeded to set in operation. It succeeded 
 only too well, and I don t know when we shall ever see 
 the end of it 
 
33O TALES OF HOME 
 
 We had more friends among the .Republicans at tbt 
 start, because all the original Abolitionists in the State 
 came into that party in 1860. Our success had been sc 
 rapid and unforeseen that the Democrats continued their 
 opposition even after female suffrage was an accomplished 
 fact ; but the leaders were shrewd enough to see that an 
 other such election as the last would ruin their party in 
 the State. So their trains were quietly laid, and the 
 match was not applied until all Atlantic was ringing with 
 the protestations of the unwilling conscripts and the la 
 ments of their families. Then came, like three claps of 
 thunder in one, sympathy for the women, acquiescence in 
 their rights, and invitations to them, everywhere, to take 
 part in the Democratic caucuses and conventions. Most 
 of the prominent women of the State were deluded for a 
 time by this manifestation, and acted with the party foi 
 the sake of the sex. 
 
 I had no idea, however, what the practical result of 
 this movement would be, until, a few weeks before elec 
 tion, I was calling upon Mrs. Buckwalter, and happened 
 to express my belief that we Republicans were going to 
 carry the State again, by a large majority. 
 
 " I am very glad of it," said she, with an expression 
 of great relief, " because then my vote will not be needed. 
 
 " Why ! " I exclaimed ; " you won t decline to vote, 
 surely ? " 
 
 " Worse than that," she answered, " I am afraid I shall 
 have to vote with the other side." 
 
 Now -as I knew her to be a good Republican, I could 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 331 
 
 scarcely believe my ears. She blushed, I must admit 
 when she saw my astonished face. 
 
 " I m so used to Bridget, you know," she continued 
 " and good girls are so very hard to find, nowadays. She 
 has as good as said that she won t stay a day later than 
 election, if I don t vote for her candidate ; and what am I 
 to do?" 
 
 " Do without 1 " I said shortly, getting up in my indig 
 nation. 
 
 "Yes, that s very well for you, with your wonderful 
 6hysique" said Mrs. Buckwalter, quietly, " but think of me 
 with my neuralgia, and the pain in my back ! It would 
 be a dreadful blow, if I should lose Bridget." 
 
 Well what with torch-light processions, and meetings 
 on both sides, Burroak was in such a state of excitement 
 when election came, that most of the ladies of my acquaint 
 ance were almost afraid to go to the polls. I tried to get 
 them out during the first hours after sunrise, when I went 
 myself, but in vain. Even that early, I heard things that 
 made me shudder. Those who came later, went home re 
 solved to give up their rights rather than undergo a second 
 experience of rowdyism. But it was a jubilee for the servant 
 girls. Mrs. Buckwalter didn t gain much by her apostasy, 
 for Bridget came home singing " The Wearing of the 
 Green," and let fall a whole tray full of the best china be 
 fore she could be got to bed. 
 
 Burroak, which, the year before, had a Republican 
 majority of three hundred, now went for the Democrats 
 by more than five hundred. The same party carried the 
 
332 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 State, electing their Governor by near twenty thousand 
 The Republicans would now have gladly repealed the 
 bill giving us equal rights, but they were in a minority, 
 and the Democrats refused to co-operate. Mrs. Whiston, 
 who still remained loyal to our side, collected information 
 from all parts of the State, from which it appeared that 
 four-fifths of all the female citizens had voted the Demo 
 cratic ticket. In New Lisbon, our great manufacturing 
 city, with its population of nearly one hundred thousand, 
 the party gained three thousand votes, while the acces 
 sions to the Republican ranks were only about four hua 
 dred. 
 
 Mrs. Whiston barely escaped being defeated ; her ma 
 jority was reduced from seven hundred to forty-three. 
 Eleven Democratic Assemblywomen and four Senator- 
 esses were chosen, however, so that she had the consola 
 tion of knowing that her sex had gained, although her 
 party had lost. She was still in good spirits : " It will all 
 right itself in time," she said. 
 
 You will readily guess, after what I have related, that 
 I was not only not re-elected to the Legislature, but that 
 I was not even a candidate. I could have born the out 
 rageous attacks of the opposite party ; but the treatment 
 I had received from my own " constituents " (I shall al 
 ways hate the word) gave me a new revelation of the ac 
 tual character of political life. I have not mentioned half 
 the worries and annoyances to which I was subjected 
 the endless, endless letters and applications for office, or 
 for my influence in some way the abuse and threats when 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 33 : 
 
 I could not possibly do what was desired the exhibitions 
 of selfishness and disregard of all great and noble princi 
 ples and finally, the shameless advances which were 
 made by what men call " the lobby," to secure my vote 
 for this, that, and the other thing. Why, it fairly made my 
 hair stand on end to hear the stories which the pleasant 
 men, whom I thought so grandly interested in schemes 
 for "the material development of the country/ told 
 about each other. Mrs. Filch s shawl began to burn my 
 shoulders before I had worn it a half a dozen times. (I 
 have since given it to Melissa, as a wedding-present). 
 
 Before the next session was half over, I was doubly 
 glad of being safe at home. Mrs. Whiston supposed that 
 the increased female representation would give her more 
 support, and indeed it seemed so, at first. But after her 
 speech on the Bounty bill, only two of the fifteen Demo 
 cratic women would even speak to her, and all hope of 
 concord of action in the interests of women was at an 
 end. We read the debates, and my blood fairly boiled 
 when I found what taunts and sneers, and epithets she 
 was forced to endure. I wondered how she could sit still 
 under them. 
 
 To make her position worse, the adjoining seat was 
 occupied by an Irishwoman, who had been elected by the 
 votes of the laborers on the new Albc.narle Extension, in 
 the neighborhood of which she kept a grocery store. 
 Nelly Kirkpatrick was a great, red-haired giant 01 a wo 
 man, very illiterate, but with some native wit, and good- 
 hearted enough, I am told, when she was in her right 
 
334 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 mind. She always followed the lead of Mr. Gorhani 
 (whose name, you see, came before hers in the call), and 
 a look from him was generally sufficient to quiet her when 
 she was inclined to be noisy. 
 
 When the resolutions declaring the war a failure were 
 introduced, the party excitement ran higher than ever. 
 The " lunch-room" (as they called it I never went there 
 but once, the title having deceived me) in the basement- 
 story of the State House was crowded during the discus 
 sion, and every time Nelly Kirkpatrick came up, her face 
 was a shade deeper red. Mr. Gorham s nods and winks 
 were of no avail speak she would, and speak she did, 
 not so very incoherently, after all, but very abusively. To 
 be sure, you would never have guessed it, if you had read 
 the quiet and dignified report in the papers on her side, 
 the next day. 
 
 Then Mrs. Whiston s patience broke down. "Mr. 
 Speaker," she exclaimed, starting to her feet, " I protest 
 against this House being compelled to listen to such a 
 tirade as has just been delivered. Are we to be disgraced 
 before the world " 
 
 Oh, hoo ! Disgraced, is it ? " yelled Nelly Kirkpat- 
 /ick, violently interrupting her, " and me as dacent a wom 
 an as ever she was, or ever will be ! Disgraced, hey ? 
 Oh, I ll larn her what it is to blaggard her betters ! " 
 
 And before anybody could imagine what was coming, 
 she pounced upon Mrs. Whiston, with one jerk ripped off 
 her skirt (it was silk, not serge, this time), seized her by 
 the hair, and gave her head such a twist backwards, that 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 335 
 
 the chignon not only came off in her hands, but as her 
 victim opened her mouth too widely in the struggle, the 
 springs of her false teeth were sprung the wrong way, and 
 the entire set flew out and rattled upon the floor. 
 
 Of course there were cries of " Order ! Order ! " and 
 the nearest members Mr. Gorham among the first- 
 rushed in ; but the mischief was done. Mrs. Whiston had 
 always urged upon our minds the necessity of not only be 
 ing dressed according to the popular fashion, but also as 
 elegantly and becomingly as possible. " If we adopt the 
 Bloomers," she said, " we shall never get our rights, while 
 the world stands. Where it is necessary to influence men, 
 we must be wholly and truly women, not semi-sexed non 
 descripts ; we must employ every charm Nature gives us 
 and Fashion adds, not hide them under a forked ex 
 tinguisher ! " I give her very words to show you her way 
 of looking at things. Well, now imagine this elegant 
 woman, looking not a day over forty, though she was 
 but no, I have no right to tell it, imagine her, I say, with 
 only her scanty natural hair hanging over her ears, her 
 mouth dreadfully fallen in, her skirt torn off, all in open 
 day, before the eyes of a hundred and fifty members (and 
 I am told they laughed immensely, in spite of the 
 scandal that it was), and, if you are human beings, you 
 will feel that she must have been wounded to the very 
 heart. 
 
 There was a motion made to expel Nelly Kirkpatrick, 
 and perhaps it might have succeeded but the railroad 
 hands, all over the State, made a heroine of her, and her 
 
33 6 TALES OF HOME 
 
 party was afraid of losing five or six thousand votes j 
 so only a mild censure was pronounced. But there 
 was no end to the caricatures, and songs, and all 
 sorts of ribaldry, about the occurrence ; and even our 
 ftarty said that, although Mrs. Whiston was really and 
 truly a martyr, yet the circumstance was an immense 
 damage to them. When she heard that, I believe it killed 
 her. She resigned her seat, went home, never appeared 
 again in public, and died within a year. " My dear 
 friend," she wrote to me, not a month before her death, 
 " I have been trying all my life to get a thorough knowl 
 edge of the masculine nature, but my woman s plummet 
 will not reach to the bottom of that chaotic pit of selfish 
 ness and principle, expedience and firmness for the right, 
 brutality and tenderness, gullibility and devilish shrewd 
 ness, which I have tried to sound. Only one thing is 
 clear we women cannot do without what we have 
 sometimes, alas ! sneered at as the chivalry of the sex The 
 question of our rights is as clear to me as ever ; tat we 
 must find a plan to get them without being forced to share, 
 or even to see, all that men do in their political lives. We 
 have only beheld some Principle riding aloft, not the 
 mud through which her chariot wheels are dragged. The 
 ways must be swept before we can walk in them but how 
 aod by whom shall this be done ? " 
 
 For my part, / uu t say, and I wish somebody would 
 tell me. 
 
 Well after seeing our State, which we used to be 
 proud of, delivered over for two years to the control of a 
 
MRS. STRONGITH ARM S REPORT. 337 
 
 party whose policy was so repugnant to all our feelings of 
 loyalty, we endeavored to procure, at least a qualification 
 of intelligence for voters. Of course, we didn t get it : the 
 exclusion from suffrage of all who were unable to read and 
 write might have turned the scales again, and given us 
 the State. After our boys came back from the war, we 
 might have succeeded but their votes were over-balanced 
 by those of the servant-girls, every one of whom turned 
 out, making a whole holiday of the election. 
 
 I thought, last fall, that my Maria, who is German, 
 would have voted with us. I stayed at home and did the 
 work myself, on purpose that she might hear the oration 
 of Carl Schurz ; but old Hammer, who keeps the lager- 
 beer saloon in the upper end of Burroak, gave a supper 
 and a dance to all the German girls and their beaux, after 
 the meeting, and so managed to secure nine out often of 
 their votes for Seymour. Maria proposed going away a 
 week before election, up into Decatur County, where, she 
 said, some relations, just arrived from Bavaria, had settled. 
 I was obliged to let her go, or lose her altogether, but I 
 was comforted by the thought that if her vote were lost 
 for Grant, at least it could not be given to Seymour. Aftei 
 the election was over, and Decatur County, which we had 
 always managed to carry hitherto, went against us, the 
 whole matter was explained. About five hundred girls, 
 we were informed, had been colonized in private families, 
 as extra help, for a fortnight, and of course Maria waj 
 one of them. (I have looked at the addresses of her let 
 ters, ever since, and not one has she sent to Decatur). A 
 
338 TALES OF HOME. 
 
 committee has been appointed, and a report made on the 
 election frauds in our State, and we shall see, I suppose, 
 whether any help comes of it. 
 
 Now, you mustn t think, from all this, that I am an 
 apostate from the principle of Women s Rights. No, in 
 deed ! All the trouble we have had, as I think will be 
 evident to the millions who read my words, comes from 
 the men. They have not only made politics their monop 
 oly, but they have fashioned it into a tremendous, elaborate 
 system, in which there is precious little of either principle 
 or honesty. We can and we must " run the machine " (to 
 use another of their vulgar expressions) with them, until 
 we get a chance to knock off the useless wheels and thing 
 umbobs, and scour the whole concern, inside and out 
 Perhaps the men themselves would like to do this, if they 
 only knew how : men have so little talent for cleaning-up. 
 But when it comes to making a litter, they re at home, let 
 me tell you ! 
 
 Meanwhile, in our State, things are about as bad as 
 they can be. The women are drawn for juries, the same 
 as ever, but (except in Whittletown, where they have a sep 
 arate room,) no respectable woman goes, and the fines 
 come heavy on some of us. The demoralization among 
 our help is so bad, that we are going to try Co-operative 
 Housekeeping. If that don t succeed, I shall get brothei 
 Samuel, who lives in California, to send me two China 
 men, one for cook and chamber-boy, and one as nurse for 
 Melissa. I console myself with thinking that the end of 
 it all must be good, since the principle is right : but, deal 
 
MRS. STRONGITHARM S REPORT. 339 
 
 me ! I had no idea that I should be called upon to go 
 through such tribulation. 
 
 Now the reason I write and I suppose I must hurry 
 to the end, or you will be out of all patience is to beg, 
 and insist, and implore my sisters in other States to lose 
 no more time, but at once to coax, or melt, or threaten 
 the men into accepting their claims. We are now so iso 
 lated in our rights that we are obliged to bear more than 
 our proper share of the burden. When the States around 
 us shall be so far advanced, there will be a chance for new 
 stateswomen to spring up, and fill Mrs. Whiston s place, 
 and we shall then, I firmly believe, devise a plan to cleanse 
 the great Augean stable of politics by turning into it the 
 river of female honesty and intelligence and morality. 
 But they must do this, somehow or other, without letting 
 the river be tainted by the heaps of pestilent offal it must 
 sweep away. As Lord Bacon says (in that play falsely 
 attributed to Shakespeare) " Ay, there s the rub ! " 
 
 If you were to ask me, now, what effect the right of 
 suffrage, office, and all the duties of men has had upon 
 the morals of the women of our State, I should be puzzled 
 what to say. It is something like this if you put a chem 
 ical purifying agent into a bucket of muddy water, the 
 water gets clearer, to be sure, but the chemical substance 
 takes up some of the impurity. Perhaps that s rather too 
 strong a comparison ; but if you say that men are worse 
 than women, as most people do, then of course we im 
 prove them by closer political intercourse, and lose a little 
 ourselves, in the process. I leave you to decide the rela- 
 
34O TALES OF HOME. 
 
 tive loss and gain. To tell you the truth, this is a feature 
 of the question which I would rather not discuss ; and I 
 see, by the reports of the recent Conventions, that all the 
 champions of our sex feel the same way. 
 
 Well, since I must come to an end somewhere, let it be 
 here. To quote Lord Bacon again, take my " round, un 
 varnished tale," and perhaps the world will yet acknowledge 
 that some good has been done by 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 JANE STRONGITHARM. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 NOV 22 1?33 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 APR H 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY