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THE 
 
 £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
MARK TWAIN'S WORKS. 
 
 Crown 8i-o. doth extra, 7s. Gd. each. 
 
 THE CHOICE WORKS OP MARK TWAIN. Revised and Cor- 
 rected throughout by the Author. With Life, Portrait, and 
 numerous Illustrations. 
 
 ROUGHING IT, and THE INNOCENTS AT HOME. With 
 200 Illustrations by F. A. Eraser. 
 
 MARK TWAIN'S LIBRARY OF HUMOUR. With numerous 
 Illustrations. ^ 
 
 Crown 8l-o. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each; post Svo. (wiihoul Illustralions), 
 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 THE INNOCENTS ABROAD ; or, The New Pilgrim's Progress 
 
 (MARK TWAIN'S PLEASURE TRIP). 
 THE GILDED AGE. By Mark Twain and Charles Dudley 
 
 Warner, With 212 Illustrations by T. Copplv. 
 THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. With 111 Illustrations. 
 THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER. With nearly 200 lUustrations. 
 A TRAMP ABROAD. With 314 Illustrations. 
 LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI. With 300 Hlustrations. 
 THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN. With 174 
 
 Illustrations by E. W. Kemble. 
 A YANKEE AT THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR. With 
 
 220 Illustrations by Dax Beard. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth extra, 35. 6J. each. 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT. With numerous Illustrations by 
 
 Hal Hurst and Dax Beaud. 
 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE, and other New Stories. 
 
 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. Post Svo. illustrated boards, 2s. 
 THE STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT, kc. Crown Svo. cluth 
 extra, 6s. ; post Svo. illustrated boards, 2*-. 
 
 London: CHATTO & WINDUS, 214 Piccadilly, W. 
 
THE 
 
 £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 AND OTHER NEW STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 MARK TWAIN 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 1893 
 
 \_All rights reserved 
 
PP.INTED BY 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREKT SQUARE 
 
& / V 
 Cd/1' >^ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The £1,000,000 Bank-note - . . . 
 Mental Telegraphy 
 
 • • . , 
 
 A Cure for the Blues 
 
 ^HB Enemy Conquered ; or, Love Triumphant . 
 
 About all Kinds of Ships 
 
 Playing Courier . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 
 
 41 
 77 
 114 
 
 193 
 225 
 
 The German Chicago 253 
 
 \ Petition to the Queen of England . . . 277 
 A Majestic Literary Fossil .... 287 
 
THE £ifiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE 
 
 When I was twenty-seven years old, I was a 
 mining-broker's clerk in San Francisco, and an 
 expert in all the details of stock traffic. I was alone 
 in the world, and had nothing to depend upon but 
 my wits and a clean reputation ; but these were 
 setting my feet in the road to eventual fortune, and 
 I was content with the prospect. 
 
 My time was my ovm after the afternoon 
 board, Saturdays, and I was accustomed to put it 
 in on a little sail-boat on the bay. One day I 
 ventured too far, and was carried out to sea. Just 
 at nightfall, when hope was about gone, I was 
 picked up by a small brig w4iich was bound for 
 London. It was a long and stormy voyage, and 
 they made me work my passage without pay, as a 
 common sailor. When I stepped ashore in London 
 my clothes w^ere ragged and shabby, and I had 
 only a dollar in my pockei This money fed and 
 
 B 
 
2 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 sheltered me twenty-four hours. Durmg the next 
 twenty-four I went without food and shelter. 
 
 About ten o'clock on the following morning, 
 seedy and hungry, I was dragging myself along 
 Portland Place, .when a child that was passing, 
 towed by a nursemaid, tossed a luscious big pear — 
 minus one bite — into the gutter. I stopped, of 
 course, and fastened my desiring eye on that 
 muddy treasure. My mouth watered for it, my 
 stomach craved it, my whole being begged for it. 
 But every time I made a move to get it some 
 passing eye detected my purpose, and of course I 
 straightened up, then, and looked indifferent, and 
 pretended that I hadn't been thmking about the 
 pear at all. This same thing kept happening and 
 happening, and I couldn't get the pear. I was 
 just getting desperate enough to brave all the 
 shame, and to seize it, when a window behind mo 
 was raised, and a gentleman spoke out of it, 
 saying : 
 
 ' Step in here, please.' 
 
 I was admitted by a gorgeous flunkey, and 
 shown into a sumptuous room where a couple of 
 elderly gentlemen were sitting. Tliey sent away 
 the servant, and made me sit down. They had 
 just finished their breakfast, and the sight of the 
 
THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE 3 
 
 remains of it almost overpowered me. I could 
 hardly keep my wits together in the presence of 
 that food, but as I was not asked to sample it, I 
 had to bear my trouble as best I could. 
 
 Now, something had been happening there a 
 little before, which I did not know anything about 
 until a good many days afterwards, but I will tell 
 you about it now. Those two old brothers had 
 been having a pretty hot argument a couple of days 
 before, and had ended by agreeing to decide it by 
 a bet, which is the English way of settling every- 
 thing. 
 
 You will remember that the Bank of England 
 once issued two notes of a million pounds each, to 
 be used for a special purpose connected with some 
 pubHc transaction with a foreign country. For 
 some reason or other only one of these had been 
 used and cancelled ; the other still lay in the vaults 
 of the Bank. Well, the brothers, chatting along, 
 happened to get to wondering what might be the 
 fate of a perfectly honest and intelligent stranger 
 who should be turned adrift in London without a 
 friend, and with no money but that milHon-pound 
 bank-note, and no way to account for his being in 
 possession of it. Brother A said he would starve 
 to death ; Brother B said he wouldn't. Brother A 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 said he couldn't offer it at a bank or anyAvliere else, 
 because he would be arrested on the spot. So 
 they went on disputing till Brother B said he would 
 bet twenty thousand pounds that the man would 
 live thirty days, any Kciy, on that million, and keep 
 out of jail, too. Brother A took him up. Brother 
 B went down to the Bank and bought that note. 
 Just like an Enghshman, you see; pluck to the 
 backbone. Then he dictated a letter, which one 
 of his clerks wrote out in a beautiful round hand, 
 and then the two brothers sat at the window a 
 whole day watching for the right man to give it to. 
 
 They saw many honest faces go by that were 
 not intehigent enough ; many that were intelligent 
 but not honest enough ; many that were both, but 
 the possessors were not poor enough, or, if poor 
 enough, were not strangers. There was always a 
 defect, until I came along ; but they agreed that I 
 filled the bill all around ; so they elected me unani- 
 mously, and there I was, now, waiting to know why 
 I was called in. They began to ask me questions 
 about myself, and pretty soon they had my story. 
 Finally they told me I would answer their purpose. 
 I said I was sincerely glad, and asked what it was. 
 Then one of them handed me an envelope, and said 
 I would Und the explanation inside. I was going 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 5 
 
 to open it, but he said no ; take it to my lodgings, 
 and look it over carefully, and not be hasty or rash. 
 I was puzzled, and wanted to discuss the matter a 
 little further, but they didn't ; so I took my leave, 
 feeling hurt and insulted to be made the butt of 
 what was apparently some kind of a practical joke, 
 and yet obliged to put up with it, not being in cir- 
 cumstances to resent affronts from rich and strong 
 folk. 
 
 I would have picked up the pear, now, and eaten 
 it before all the world, but it was gone ; so I had 
 lost that by this unlucky business, and the thought 
 of it did not soften my feeling towards those men. 
 As soon as I was out of sight of that house I opened 
 my envelope, and saw that it contained money ! My 
 opinion of those people changed, I can tell you ! I 
 lost not a moment, but shoved note and money into 
 my vest-pocket, and broke for the nearest cheap 
 eating-house. Well, how I did eat ! When at last 
 I couldn't hold any more, I took out my money 
 and unfolded it, took one glimpse and nearly fainted. 
 Five millions of dollars ! Wliy, it made my head 
 swim. 
 
 I must have sat there stunned and blinking at 
 the note as much as a minute before I came rightly 
 to myself again. The first thing I noticed, then, 
 
6 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 was the landlord. His eye ^Yas on the note, and 
 he was petrified. He was worshipping, with all his 
 body and soul, but he looked as if he couldn't stir 
 hand or foot. I took my cue in a moment, and 
 did the only rational thing there was to do. I 
 reached the note towards him, and said carelessly : 
 
 ' Give me the change, please.' 
 
 Then he wRs restored to his normal condition, 
 and made a thousand apologies for not being able 
 to break the bill, and I couldn't get him to touch 
 it. He wanted to look at it, and keep on looking 
 at it ; he couldn't seem to get enough of it to quench 
 the thirst of his eye, but he shrank from touching 
 it as if it had been something too sacred for poor 
 common clay to handle. I said : 
 
 *I am sorry if it is an inconvenience, but I 
 must insist. Please change it ; I haven't anything 
 else.' 
 
 But he said that wasn't any matter; he was 
 quite willing to let the trifle stand over till another 
 time. I said I might not be in his neighbourhood 
 again for a good while ; but he said it was of no 
 consequence, he could wait, and, moreover, I could 
 have anything I wanted, any time I chose, and let 
 the account run as long as I pleased. He said he 
 hoped he wasn't afraid to trust as rich a gentleman 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 7 
 
 as I was, merely because I was of a merry dispo- 
 Bition, and chose to play larks on the public in the 
 matter of dress. By this time another customer 
 was entering, and the landlord hinted to me to put 
 the monster out of sight ; then he bowed me all 
 the way to the door, and I started straight for that 
 house and those brothers, to correct the mistake 
 which had been made before the police should hunt 
 me up, and help me do it. I was pretty nervous, 
 in fact pretty badly frightened, though, of course, I 
 was no way in fault ; but I knew men well enough 
 to know that when they find they've given a tramp 
 a milHon-pound bill when they thought it was a 
 one-pounder, they are in a frantic rage against ]iim 
 instead of quarrelling with their own near-sighted- 
 ness, as they ought. As I approached the house 
 my excitement began to abate, for all was quiet 
 there, which made me feel pretty sure the blunder 
 was not discovered yet. I rang. The fcame servant 
 appeared. I asked for those gentlemen. 
 
 ' They are gone.' This in the lofty, cold way 
 of that fellow's tribe. 
 
 ' Gone ? Gone where ? ' 
 
 * On a journey.' 
 
 ' But whereabouts ? ' 
 
 ' To the Continent, I think,' 
 
8 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 ' Tlie Continent ? ' 
 *Yes, sir.' 
 
 * Whicli way— by what route ? ' 
 ' I can't say, sir.' 
 
 * When will they be back ? ' 
 
 * In a month, they said.' 
 
 < A month ! Oh, this is awf al ! Give me some 
 sort of idea of how to get a word to them. It's of 
 the last importance.' 
 
 ' I can't, indeed. I've no idea where they've 
 
 gone, sir.' 
 
 ' Then I must see some member of the family.' 
 
 ' Family's away too ; been abroad months— in 
 Egypt and India, I think.' 
 
 * Man, there's been an immense mistake made. 
 They'll be back before night. Will you tell them 
 I've been here, and that I will keep coming till it's 
 all made right, and they needn't be afraid ? ' 
 
 ' I'll tell them, if they come back, but I am nut 
 expecting them. They said you would be here in 
 an hour to make inquiries, but I must tell you 
 it's all right, they'll be here on time and expect 
 you.' 
 
 So I had to give it up and go away, mat a 
 riddle it all was ! I was like to lose my mind. 
 They would bo here 'on time.' What could that 
 
 1 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 9 
 
 mean? Oh, the letter would explain, maybe. I 
 had forgotten the letter ; I got it out and read it. 
 This is what it said : 
 
 ' You are an intelligent and honest man, as one 
 may see by your face. We conceive you to be 
 poor and a stranger. Inclosed you will find a sum 
 of money. It is lent to you for thirty days, without 
 interest. Eeport at this house at the end of that 
 time. I have a bet on you. If I win it you shall 
 have any situation that is in my gift —any, that is, 
 that you shall be able to prove yourself famihar 
 with and competent to fill.' 
 
 No signature, no address, no date. 
 
 Well, here was a coil to be in ! You are posted 
 on what had preceded all this, but I was not. It 
 was just a deep, dark puzzle to me. I hadn't the 
 least idea what the game was, nor whether harm 
 was meant me or a kindness. I went into a park, 
 and sat down to try to think it out, and to consider 
 what I had best do. 
 
 At the end of an hour, my reasonings had 
 crystallised into this verdict. 
 
 Maybe those men mean me well, maybe they 
 mean me ill; no way to decide that — let it go. 
 They've got a game, or a scheme, or an experiment 
 of some kind on hand ; no way to determine what 
 
.t 
 
 10 THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE 
 
 it is— let it go. There's a bet on me ; no T\'ay to 
 find out ^Yhat it is— let it go. That disposes of the 
 indeterminable quantities; the remainder of the 
 matter is tangible, sohd, and may be classed and 
 labelled with certainty. If I ask the Bank of 
 England to place this bill to the credit of the man 
 it belongs to, they'll do it, for they know him, 
 although I don't; but they will ask me how I 
 came in possession of it, and if I tell the truth, 
 they'll put me in the asylum, naturally, and a lie 
 will land me in jail. The same result would follow 
 if I tried to bank the bill anywhere or to borrow 
 money on it. I have got to carry this immense 
 burden around until those men come back, whether 
 I want to or not. It is useless to me, as useless as 
 a handful of ashes, and yet I must take care of it, 
 and watch over it, while I beg my living. I 
 couldn't give it away, if I should try, for neither 
 honest citizen nor highwayman would accept it or 
 meddle with it for anything. Those brothers are 
 safe. Even if I lose their bill, or burn it, they are 
 still safe, because they can stop payment, and the 
 Bank will make them whole ; but meantime, I've 
 got to do a month's suffering without wages or 
 profit— unless I help win that bet, whatever it may 
 be, and get that situation that I am promised. I 
 
 ♦ 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE II 
 
 slioiild like to get that; men of their sort have 
 situations in their gift that are worth having. 
 
 I got to thinking a good deal about that situa- 
 tion. My hopes began to rise high. Without 
 doubt the salary would be large. It would begin 
 in a month; after that I should be all right. 
 Pretty soon I was feeling first-rate. By this time 
 I was tramping the streets again. The sight of a 
 tailor- shop gave me a sharp longing to shed my 
 rags, and to clothe myself decently once more. 
 Could I afford it? No ; I had nothing in the 
 world but a miUion pounds. So I forced myself to 
 go on by. But soon I was drifting back again. 
 The temptation persecuted me cruelly. I must 
 have passed that shop back and forth sis times 
 during that manful struggle. At last I gave in ; I 
 had to. I asked if they had a misfit suit that had 
 been thrown on their hands. The fellow I spoke 
 to nodded his head towards another fellow, and gave 
 me no answer. I went to the indicated fellow, 
 and he indicated another fellow with Ms head, and 
 no words. I went to him, and he said : 
 ' 'Tend to you presently.' 
 
 I waited till he was done with what he was at, 
 I then he took me into a back room, and overhauled 
 a pile of rejected suits, and selected the rattiest one 
 
 i 
 
12 THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE 
 
 for me. 1 put it on. It didn't fit, and wasn't in 
 any ^Yay attractive, but it was new, and I was 
 anxious to have it ; so I didn't find any fault, but 
 said with some diffidence : 
 
 ' It would be an accommodation to me if you 
 could wait some days for the money. I haven't 
 any small change about me.' 
 
 The fellow worked up a most sarcastic expres- 
 sion of countenance, and said : 
 
 'Oh, you haven't? AY ell, of course, I didn't 
 expect it. I'd only expect gentlemen like you to 
 carry large change.' 
 
 I was nettled, and said : 
 
 'My friend, you shouldn't judge a stranger 
 always by the clothes he wears. I am quite able 
 to pay for this suit ; I simply didn't wish to put 
 you to the trouble of changing a large note.' 
 
 He modified his style a little at that, and said, 
 though still with something of an air : 
 
 * I didn't mean any particular harm, but as long 
 as rebukes are going, I might say it wasn't quite 
 your affair to jump to the conclusion that we 
 couldn't change any note that you might happen 
 to be carrying around. On the contrary, we can' 
 
 I handed the note to him, and said : 
 
 * Oh, very well ; I apologise.' 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE if 
 
 He received it with a smile, one of those largo 
 smiles which goes ah around over, and has folds in 
 it, and wrinkles, and spirals, and looks like the 
 place where you have thrown a brick in a pond ; 
 and then in the act of his taking a glimpse of the 
 bill this smile froze solid, and turned yellow, and 
 looked like those wavy, wormy spreads of lava 
 which you find hardened on little levels on the side 
 of Vesuvius. I never before saw a smile caught 
 like that, and perpetuated. The man stood there 
 holding the bill, and looking like that, and the 
 proprietor hustled up to see what was the matter, 
 and said briskly : 
 
 * Well, what's up? what's the trouble? what's 
 wanting ? ' 
 
 I said, 'There isn't any trouble. I'm waiting 
 for my change.' 
 
 * Come, come ; get him his change, Tod ; get 
 him his change.' 
 
 Tod retorted : * Get him his change ! It's easy 
 to say, sir ; but look at the bill yourself.' 
 
 The proprietor took a look, gave a low, eloquent 
 whistle, then made a dive for the pile of rejected 
 clothing, and began to snatch it this way and that, 
 talking all the time excitedly, and as if to himself : 
 
 * Sell an eccentric millionaire such an unspeak- 
 
14 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 able suit as that ! Tod's a fool-a born fool. Al- 
 ways doing something like this. Drives every mil- 
 lionaire away from this place, because he can't tell 
 a millionaire from a tramp, and never could. Ah, 
 here's the thing I'm after. Please get those things 
 off, sir, and throw them in the fire. Do me the 
 favour to put on this shirt and this suit ; it's just 
 the thing, the very thing— plain, rich, modest, and 
 just ducally nobby ; made to order for a foreign 
 prince— you may know him, sir, his Serene High- 
 ness the Kospodar of HaUfax ; had to leave it with 
 us and take a mourning-suit because his mother 
 was going to die— which she didn't. But that's all 
 right ; we can't always have things the way we— 
 that is, the way they— there ! trousers all right, 
 they fit you to a charm, sir ; now the waistcoat : 
 aha, right again ! now the coat— lord ! look at that, 
 now 1 Perfect, the whole thing ! I never saw such 
 a triumph in all my experience.' 
 I expressed my satisfaction. 
 * Quite right, sir, quite right ; it'll do for a make- 
 shift, I'm bound to say. But wait till you see wjiat 
 we'll get up for you on your own measure. Come, 
 Tod, book and pen ; get at it. Length of leg, 32 ' 
 —and so on. Before I could get in a word he had 
 measured me, and was giving orders for dress-suits, 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 15 
 
 morning suits, shirts, and all sorts of things. When 
 I got a chance I said : 
 
 *But, my dear sir, I can't give these orders, 
 unless you can wait indefinitely, or change the 
 bill.' 
 
 * Indefinitely ! It's a weak word, sir, a weak 
 word. Eternally— ^/mi's the word, sir. Tod, rush 
 these things through, and send them to the gentle- 
 man's address without any waste of time. Let the 
 minor customers wait. Set down the gentleman's 
 address and ' 
 
 * I'm'changing my quarters. I will drop in and 
 leave the new address.' 
 
 ' Quite right, sir, quite right. One moment — 
 let me show you out, sir. There—good day, sir, 
 good day.' 
 
 Well, don't you see what was bound to happen ? 
 I drifted naturally into buying whatever I wanted, 
 and asking for change. Within a week I was 
 sumptuously equipped with all needful comforts and 
 luxuries, and was housed in an expensive private 
 hotel in Hanover Square. I took my dinners 
 there, but for breakfast I stuck by Harris's humble 
 feeding-house, where I had got my first meal on 
 my million-pound bill. I was the making of 
 Harris. The fact had gone all abroad that ''^0 
 
 1 
 
i6 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 foreign crank who carried million-pound bills in 
 his vest-pocket was the patron saint of the place. 
 That was enough. From being a poor, strugghng, 
 Httle hand-to-mouth enterprise, it had become 
 celebrated, and overcrowded with customers. 
 Harris was so grateful that he forced loans upon 
 me, and would not be denied ; and so, pauper as I 
 was, I had money to spend, and was living like the 
 rich and the great. I judged that there was going 
 to be a crash by and by, but I was in, now, and 
 xnust swim across or drown. You see there was 
 just that element of impending disaster to give a 
 serious side, d sober side, yes, a tragic side, to a 
 state of things which would otherwise have been 
 purely ridiculous. In the night, in the dark, the 
 tragedy part was always to the front, and always 
 warnmg, always threatening ; and so I moaned and 
 tossed, and sleep was hard to find. But in the 
 cheerful daylight the tragedy element faded out 
 and disappeared, and I walked on air, and was 
 happy to giddiness, to intoxication, you may say. 
 
 And it was natural ; for I had become one of 
 the notorieties of the metropohs of the world, and 
 it turned my head, not just a little, but a good 
 deal. You could not take up a newspaper, English, 
 ^-otch, or Irish, without finding in it one or more 
 
 \ 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 17 
 
 references to the ' vest-pocket million-pounder ' and 
 his latest doings and sayings. At first, in these 
 mentions, I was at the bottom of the personal 
 gossip column ; next, I was listed above the 
 knights, next above the baronets, next above the 
 barons, and so on, and so on, climbing steadily, as 
 my notoriety augmented, until I reached the 
 highest altitude possible, and there I remained, 
 taking precedence of all dukes not royal, and of all 
 ecclesiastics except the Primate of all England. 
 But, mind, this w^as not fame ; as yet I had achieved 
 only notoriety. Then came the climaxing stroke — 
 the accolade, so to speak— which in a single instance 
 transmuted the perishable dross of notoriety into 
 the enduring gold of fame : ' Punch ' caricatured 
 me ! Yes, I was a made man, now : my place was 
 established. I might be joked about still, but 
 reverently, not hilariously, not rudely ; I could be 
 smiled at, but not laughed at. The time for that 
 had gone by. * Punch' pictured me all a-flutter 
 wdth rags, dickering with a beefeater for the Tower 
 of London. Well, you can imagine how it was 
 with a young fellow who had never been taken 
 notice of before, and now all of a sudden couldn't 
 say a thing that wasn't taken up and repeated 
 everywhere ; couldn't stir abroad without con- 
 
 0 
 
i8 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 stantly overhearing the remark flying from lip to 
 lip, ' There he goes ; that's him ! ' couldn-t take his 
 hrlakfast without a crowd to look on ; couldn't ap- 
 pear in an opera-box without concentrating there 
 the fire of a thousand lorgnettes. Why, I just 
 swam in glory all day long-that is the amount 
 of it. 
 
 You know, I even kept my old suit of rags, and 
 every now and then appeared in them, so as^ to 
 have the old pleasure of buying trifles, and being 
 insulted, and then shooting the scoffer dead with 
 the million-pound bill. But I couldn't keep that 
 up. The illustrated papers made the outfit so 
 familiar that when I went out in it I was at once 
 recognised and followed by a crowd, and if I 
 attempted a purchase the man would offer me his 
 whole shop on credit before I could pull my note 
 
 About the tenth day of my fame I went to fulfil 
 my duty to my flag by paying my respects to the 
 American minister. He received me with the en- 
 thusiasm proper in my case, upbraided me for bemg 
 so tardy in my duty, and said that there was only 
 one way to get his forgiveness, and that was to 
 take the seat at his dinner-party that night made 
 vacant by the illness of one of his guests. I said I 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 would, and we got to talking. It turned out tbat 
 he and my father had been schoolmates in boy- 
 hood, Yale students together later, and always 
 warm friends up to my father's death. So then he 
 required me to put in at his house all the odd time 
 I might have to spare, and I was very willing, of 
 course. 
 
 In fact I was more than willing ; I was glad. 
 When the crash should come, he might somehow 
 be able to save me from total destruction ; I didn't 
 know how, but he might think of a way, maybe. I 
 couldn't venture to unbosom myself to him at this 
 late date, a thing w^hich I would have been quick to 
 do in the beginning of this awful career of mine in 
 London. No, I couldn't venture it now ; I was in 
 too deep; that is, too deep for me to be risking 
 revelations to so new a friend, though not clear be- 
 yond my depth, as / looked at it. Because, you 
 see, with all my borrowing, I was carefully keeping 
 within my means — I mean within my salary. Of 
 course I couldn't knoio what my salary was going 
 to be, but I had a good enough basis for an esti- 
 mate in the fact that, if I won the bet, I was to have 
 choice of any situation in that rich old gentleman's 
 gift provided I was competent — and I should cer- 
 tainly prove competent ; I hadn't any doubt about 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE £1,000,000 BAXK-NOTE 
 
 tliat. And as to the bet, I wasn't worrying about 
 that ; I had always been hicky. Now, my estimate 
 of the salary was six hundred to a thousand a 
 year ; say, six hundred for the first year, and so on 
 up year by year, till I struck the upper figure by 
 proved merit. At present I was only in debt for 
 my first year's salary. Everybody had been trying 
 to lend me money, but I had fought off the most of 
 them on one pretext or another ; so this indebted- 
 ness represented only £300 borrowed money, the 
 other £300 represented my keep and my purchases. 
 I beheved my second year's salary would carry me 
 through the rest of the month if I went on being 
 cautious and economical, and I intended to look 
 sharply out for that. My month ended, my em- 
 ployer back from his journey, I should be all right 
 once more, for I should at once divide the two 
 years' salary among my creditors by assignment, 
 and get right down to my work. 
 
 It was a lovely dinner party of fourteen. The 
 Duke and Duchess of Shoreditch, and their daughter 
 the Lady Anne-Grace-Eleanor-Celeste-and-so-forth- 
 and-so-forth-de-Bohun, the Earl and Countess of 
 Newgate, Viscount Cheapside, Lord and Lady 
 Blatherskite, some untitled people of both sexes, 
 the minister and his wife and daughter, and his 
 
irilE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 21 
 
 daughter's visiting friend, an English girl of twenty- 
 two, named Portia Langham, whom I fell in love 
 with in two minutes, and she with me — I could see 
 it without glasses. There was still another guest, 
 an American — but I am a little ahead of my story. 
 While the people were still in the drawing-room, 
 whetting up for dinner, and coldly inspecting the 
 late comers, the servant announced : 
 
 * Mr. Lloyd Hastings.' 
 
 The moment the usual civilities were over, Hast- 
 ings caught sight of me, and came straight with 
 cordially outstretched hand; then stopped short 
 when about to shake, and said with an embarrassed 
 look : 
 
 * I beg your pardon, sir, I thought I knew you.' 
 
 * Why, you do know me, old fellow.' 
 ' No ! Are you the —the ? ' 
 
 * Yest-pocket monster? I am, indeed. Don't be 
 afraid to call me by my nickname ; I'm used to it.' 
 
 * Well, well, well, this is a surprise. Once or twice 
 I've seen your own name coupled with the nickname, 
 but it never occurred to me that you could be the 
 Henry Adams referred to. Yv'hy, it isn't six months 
 since you were clerking away for Blake Hopkins in 
 Frisco on a salary, and sitting up nights on an ex- 
 tra allowance, helping me arrange and verify the 
 
22 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 Gould and Curry Extension papers and statistics. 
 The idea of your being in London, and a vast mil- 
 lionaire, and a colossal celebrity ! Why, it's the 
 Arabian Nights come again. Man, I can't take it 
 in at all ; can't realise it ; give me time to settle the 
 whirl in my head.' 
 
 ' The fact is, Lloyd, you are no worse off than I 
 am. I can't realise it myself.' 
 
 ' Dear me, it is stunning, now, isn't it ? Why, 
 it's just three months to-day since we went to the 
 
 Miners' restaurant •' 
 
 'No; the What Cheer.' 
 
 ' Eight, it was the What Cheer ; went there at 
 two in the morning, and had a chop and coffee after 
 a hard sis hours' grind over those Extension papers, 
 and I tried to persuade you to come to London with 
 me, and offered to get leave of absence for you and 
 pay all your expenses, and give you something over 
 if I succeeded in making the sale ; and you would 
 not listen to me, said I wouldn't succeed, and you 
 couldn't afford to lose the run of business and be, 
 no end of time getting the hang of things again 
 when you got back home. And yet here you are. 
 How odd it all is ! How did you happen to come, 
 and whatever did give you this incredible start?' 
 ' Oh, just an accident. It's a long story—a 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 23 
 
 romance, a body may say. I'll tell you all about 
 it, but not now. 
 *Wlien?' 
 
 * The end of this month.' 
 
 ' That's more than a fortnight yet. It's too much 
 of a strain on a person's curiosity. Make it a 
 week.' 
 
 ' I can't. You'll know why, by and by. But 
 
 how's the trade getting along ? ' 
 
 His cheerfulness vanished like a breath, and he 
 said with a sigh : 
 
 * You were a true prophet, Hal, a true prophet. 
 I wish I hadn't come. I don't w^ant to talk about 
 it.' 
 
 *But you must. You must come and stop 
 with me to-night, when we leave here, and tell me 
 all about it.' 
 
 * Oh, may I ? Are you in earnest ? ' and the 
 water showed in his eyes. 
 
 'Yes; I want to hear the whole story, every 
 word.' 
 
 * I'm so grateful ! Just to find a human 
 interest once more, in some voice and in some eye, 
 in me and affairs of mine, after what I've been 
 through here — lord ! I could go down on my 
 knees for it ! ' 
 
24 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 He gripped my hand hard, and braced up, and 
 was all right and lively after that for the dinner— 
 which didn't come off. No ; the usual thing hap- 
 pened, the thing that is always happening under 
 that vicious and aggravating Enghsh system— the 
 matter of precedence couldn't be settled, and so 
 there was no dinner. Enghshmen always eat 
 dinner before they go out to dinner, because i]ieij 
 know the risks they are running ; but nobody ever 
 warns the stranger, and so he walks placidly into 
 the trap. Of course nobody was hurt this time, 
 because we had all been to dinner, none of us being 
 novices except Hastings, and he ha\ing been in- 
 formed by the minister at the time that he invited 
 him that in deference to the Enghsh custom he 
 had not provided any dinner. Everybody took a 
 lady and processioned down to the dining-room, 
 because it is usual to go through the motions ; but 
 there the dispute began. The Duke of Shoreditch 
 wanted to take precedence, and sit at the head of 
 the table, holding that he outranked a minister 
 who represented merely a nation and not a mon- 
 arch ; but I stood for my rights, and refused to 
 yield. In the gossip column I ranked all dukes 
 not royal, and said so, and claimed precedence^ of 
 this one. It couldn't be settled, of course, struggle 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 25 
 
 as we might and did, he finally (and injudiciously) 
 trying to play birth and antiquity, and I * seeing ' 
 his Conqueror and * raising ' him with Adam, 
 whose direct posterity I was, as shown by my 
 name, while he was of a collateral branch, as 
 shown by Ms, and by his recent Norman origin ; 
 so we all processioned back to the drawing-room 
 again and had a perpendicular lunch — plate of sar- 
 dines and a strawberry, and you group yourself 
 and stand up and eat it. Here the religion of 
 precedence is not so strenuous ; the two persons of 
 highest rank chuck up a shilHng, the one that wins 
 has first go at his strawberry, and the loser gets 
 the shilling. The next two chuck up, then the 
 next two, and so on. After refreshment, tables 
 were brought, and we all played cribbage, sixpence 
 a game. The English never play any game for 
 amusement. If they can't make something or lose 
 something — they don't care which — they won't 
 play. 
 
 We had a lovely time ; certainly two of us had, 
 Miss Langham and I. I was so bewitched with 
 her that I couldn't count my hands if they went 
 above a double sequence ; and when I struck home 
 I never discovered it, and started up the outside 
 row again, and would have lost the game every 
 
26 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 time, only the ghl did the same, she being in just 
 my condition, you see ; and consequently neither 
 of us ever got out, or cared to ^Yonder why we 
 didn't ; we only just knew we were happy, and 
 didn't wish to know anything else, and didn't want 
 to be interrupted. And I told her-I did indeed- 
 told her I loved her ; and she-well, she blushed 
 till her hair turned red, but she liked it; she 
 she did. ■ Oh, there was never such an evening ! 
 Every time I pegged I put on a postscript; every 
 time she pegged she acknowledged receipt of it, 
 counting the hands the same. AVhy, I couldn't 
 even say, ' Two for his heels,' without adding, ' My, 
 how sweet you do look ! ' And she would say, 
 * Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, and a pair 
 are eight, and eight are sixteen-f?o you think so ? ' 
 peeping out aslant from under her lashes, you 
 know, lo sweet and cunning. Oh, it was just too- 
 too ! 
 
 • Well, I was perfectly honest and square with 
 her ; told her I hadn't a cent in the world but just 
 the million-pound note she'd heard so much talk 
 about, and it didn't belong tome ; and that started 
 her curiosity, and then I talked low, and told her 
 the whole history right from the start, and it nearly 
 killed her, laughing. What in the nation she 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 27 
 
 could find to laugh about, / couldn't see, but there 
 it was ; every half mmute some new detail would 
 fetch her, and I would have to stop as much as a 
 minute and a half to give her a chance to settle 
 down again. Why, she laughed herself lame, she 
 did indeed ; I never saw anything like it. I mean 
 I never saw a painful story— a story of a person's 
 troubles and worries and fears— produce just that 
 kind of effect before. So I loved her all the more, 
 seeing she could be so cheerful when there wasn't 
 anything to be cheerful about ; for I might soon 
 need that kind of wife, you know, the way things 
 looked. Of course I told her we should have to 
 wait a couple of years, till I could catch up on my 
 salary ; but she didn't mind that, only she hoped 
 I would be as careful as possible in the matter of 
 expenses, and not let them run the least risk of 
 trenching on our third year's pay. Then she 
 began to get a little worried, and wondered if we 
 were making any mistake, and starting the salary 
 on a higher figure for the first year than I would 
 get. This was good sense, and it made me feel a 
 httle less confident than I had been feeling before ; 
 but it gave me a good business idea, and I brought 
 it frankly out. 
 
 'Portia, dear, would you mind going with 
 
28 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 me that day, when I confront those old gentle- 
 men? ' 
 
 She shrank a little, but said : 
 
 * N-o ; if my being with you would help hearten 
 you. But— would it be quite proper, do you 
 think ? ' 
 
 ' No, I don't know that it would ; in fact, I'm 
 afraid it wouldn't ; but, you see, there's so miidi 
 dependent upon it that ' 
 
 * Then I'll go anyway, proper or improper,' she 
 said, with a beautiful and generous enthusiasm. 
 * Oh, I shall be so happy to think I'm helping.' 
 
 * Helping, dear ? Why, you'll be doing it all. 
 You're so beautiful, and so lovely, and so winning, 
 that with you there I can pile our salary up till I 
 break those good old fellows, and they'll never 
 have the heart to struggle.' 
 
 Sho! you should have seen the rich blood 
 mount, and her happy eyes shine ! 
 
 * You wicked flatterer ! There isn't a word of 
 truth in what you say, but still I'll go with you. 
 Maybe it will teach you not to expect other people 
 to look with your eyes.' 
 
 Were my doubts dissipated? Was my con- 
 fidence restored? You may judge by this fact: 
 privately I raised my salary to twelve hundred the 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 29 
 
 first year on the spot. But I didn't tell her ; I 
 saved it for a surprise. 
 
 All the way home I was in the clouds, Hastings 
 talking, I not hearing a word. When he and I 
 entered my parlour he brought me to myself with 
 his fervent appreciations of my manifold comforts 
 and luxuries. 
 
 * Let me just stand here a little and look my 
 fill ! Dear me, it's a palace ; it's just a palace ! 
 And in it everything a body coiM desire, in- 
 cluding cozy coal fire and supper standing ready. 
 Henry, it doesn't merely make me realise how rich 
 you are ; it makes me realise to the bone, to the 
 marrow, how poor I am — how poor I am — and how 
 miserable, how defeated, routed, annihilated ! ' 
 
 Plague take it ! this language gave me the cold 
 shudders. It scared me broad awake, and made 
 me comprehend that I was standing on a half-inch 
 crust, with a crater underneath. I didn't know I 
 had been dreaming — that is, I hadn't been allowing 
 myself to know it for a while back ; but now — oh, 
 dear ! Deep in debt, not a cent in the world, a 
 lovely girl's happiness or woe in my hands, and 
 nothing in front of me but a salary which might 
 never — oh, would never — materialise ! Oh, oh, oh, 
 I am ruined past hope ; nothing can save me ! 
 
30 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 * Henry, the mere unconsidered drippings of 
 your daily income would ' 
 
 * Oh, my daily income ! Here, down with this 
 hot Scotch, and cheer up your soul. Here's with 
 you ! Or, no— you're hungry ; sit down and ' 
 
 * Not a bite for me ; I'm past it. I can't eat, 
 these days; but I'll drink with you till I drop. 
 Come ! ' 
 
 'Barrel for barrel, I'm with you! Eeady! 
 Here we go ! Now, then, Lloyd, unreel your story 
 while I brew.' 
 
 ' Unreel it ? What, again ? ' 
 
 ' Again ? What do you mean by that ? ' 
 
 'Why, I mean do you want to hear it over 
 again ? ' 
 
 * Do I want to hear it over again ? This is 
 a puzzler. Wait; dont take any more of that 
 liquid. You don't need it.' 
 
 'Look here, Henry, you alarm me. Didn't 
 I tell you the whole story on the way here ? ' 
 'You?' 
 'Yes, I.' 
 
 ' I'll be hanged if I heard a word of it.' 
 
 ' Henry, this is a serious thing. It troubles 
 me. What did you take up yonder at the 
 minister's ? ' 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 31 
 
 Then it all flashed on me, and I owned up, like 
 a man. 
 
 'I took the dearest girl in this world- 
 prisoner ! ' 
 
 So then he came with a rush, and we shook, 
 and shook, and shook till our hands ached ; and he 
 didn't blame me for not having heard a word of a 
 story which had lasted while we walked three miles. 
 He just sat down then, like the patient, good 
 fellow he was, and told it all over again. Synop- 
 sised, it amounted to this : He had come to England 
 with what he thought was a grand opportunity; he 
 had an * option' to sell the Gould and Curry 
 Extension for the ' locators ' of it, and keep all he 
 could get over a million dollars. He had worked 
 hard, had pulled every wire he knew of, had left no 
 honest expedient untried, had spent nearly all the 
 money he had in the world, had not been able to 
 get a solitary capitaHst to listen to him, and his 
 option would run out at the end of the month. In 
 a word, he was ruined. Then he jumped up and 
 cried out : 
 
 ' Henry, you can save me ! You can save me, 
 and you're the only man in the universe that can. 
 Will you do it ? WorCt you do it ? ' 
 
 *■ Tell me how. Speak out, my boy.' 
 
33 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 ' Give me a million and my passage home for 
 my ' option ' ! Don't, dont refuse ! ' 
 
 I was in a kind of agony. I was right on the 
 point of coming out with the words, ' Lloyd, I'm a 
 pauper myself— absolutely penniless, and in debt! ' 
 But a white-hot idea came flaming through my 
 head, and I gripped my jaws together, and calmed 
 myself down till I was as cold as a capitahst. Then 
 I said, in a commercial and self-possessed way : 
 
 * I will save you, Lloyd ' 
 
 ' Then I'm already saved ! God be merciful to 
 you for ever ! If ever I ' 
 
 'Let me finish, Lloyd. I will save you, but 
 not in that way ; for that would not be fair to you, 
 after your hard work, and the risks you've run. 
 I don't need to buy mines ; I can keep my capital 
 moving, in a commercial centre like London, 
 without that ; it's what I'm at, all the time ; but 
 here is what I'll do. I know all about that mine, 
 of course ; I know its immense value, and can 
 swear to it if anybody wishes it. You shall sell 
 out inside of the fortnight for three millions cash, 
 using my name freely, and we'll divide, share and 
 Bharc alike.' 
 
 Do you know, he would have danced the furni- 
 ture to kindling-wood in his insane joy, and broken 
 
77^5" £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 33, 
 
 everything on the place, if I hadn't tripped him up 
 and tied him. 
 
 Then he lay there, perfectly happy, saying : 
 ' I may use your name ! Your name — think of 
 it ! Man, they'll flock in droves, these rich Lon- 
 doners ; they'll figlit for that stock ! I'm a made 
 man, I'm a made man for ever, and I'll never 
 forget you as long as I live ! ' 
 . In less than twenty-four hours London was 
 abuzz ! I hadn't anything to do, day after day, 
 but sit at home, and say to all comers : 
 
 ' Yes ; I told him to refer to me. I know the 
 man and I know the mine. His character is above 
 reproach, and the mine is worth far more than he 
 asks for it.' 
 
 Meantime I spent all my evenings at the 
 minister's with Portia. I didn't say a word to her 
 about the mine; I saved it for a surprise. We 
 talked salary; never anything but salary and love ; 
 sometimes love, sometimes salary, sometimes love 
 and salary together. And my ! the interest the 
 minister's wife and daughter took in our little 
 affair, and the endless ingenuities they invented to 
 save us from interruption, and to keep the minister 
 in the dark and unsuspicious — well, it was just 
 lovely of them ! 
 
 D 
 
34 THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE 
 
 "When the month was up, at last, I had a 
 minion dollars to my credit m the London and 
 County Bank, and Hastings was fixed in the same 
 way. Dressed at my level hest, I drove by the 
 house in Portland Place, judged by the look of 
 things that my birds were home again, went on 
 towards the minister's and got my precious, and 
 we started back, talking salary with all our might. 
 She was so excited and anxious that it made her 
 just intolerably beautiful. I said : 
 
 * Dearie, the way you're looking it's a crime to 
 strike for a salary a single penny under three 
 thousand a year.' 
 
 ' Henry, Henry, you'll ruin us ! ' 
 
 * Don't you be afraid. Just keep up those 
 looks, and trust to me. It'll all come out 
 right.' 
 
 So, as it turned out, I had to keep bolstering up 
 her courage all the way. She kept pleading with 
 me, and saying : 
 
 * Oh, please remember that if we ask for too 
 much we may get no salary at all ; and then what 
 will become of us, with no way in the world to earn 
 our living ? ' 
 
 We were ushered in by that same servant, and 
 there they were, the two old gentlemen. Of course 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 35 
 
 they were surprised to see that wonderful creature 
 with me, but I said : 
 
 'It's all right, gentlemen; she is my future 
 stay and helpmate.' 
 
 And I introduced them to her, and called them 
 by name. It didn't surprise them ; they knew I 
 would know enough to consult the directory. They 
 seated us, and were very polite to me, and very 
 soHcitous to relieve her from embarrassment, and 
 put her as much at her ease as they could. Then 
 I said : 
 
 ' Gentlemen, I am ready to report.' 
 
 ' We are glad to hear it,' said my man, 'for now 
 we can decide the bet which my brother Abel and 
 I made. If you have won for me, you shall have 
 any situation in my gift. Have you the million- 
 pound note ? ' 
 
 ' Here it is, sir,' and I handed it to him. 
 
 ' I've won ! ' he shouted, and slapped Abel on 
 the back. ' Now what do you say, brother ? ' 
 
 'I say he did survive, and I've lost twenty 
 thousand pounds. I never would have believed 
 it.' 
 
 *I've a further report to make,' I said, ' and a 
 pretty long one. I want you to let me come soon, 
 and detail my whole month's history; and I 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 
 
 promise you it's worth hearing. Meantime, take 
 a look at that.' 
 
 'What, man! Certificate of deposit for 
 £200,000 ? Is it yours ? ' 
 
 *Mine! I earned it by thirty days' judicious 
 use of that httle loan you let me have. And the 
 only use I made of it was to buy trifles and offer 
 the bill in change.' 
 
 'Come, this is astonishing! It's incredible, 
 man ! ' 
 
 'Never mind, I'll prove it. Don't take my 
 word unsupported.' 
 
 But now Portia's turn was come to be surprised. 
 Her eyes were spread wide, and she said : 
 
 * Henry, is that really your money ? Have you 
 been fibbing to me ? ' 
 
 ' I have indeed, dearie. But you'll forgive me, 
 I know.' 
 
 She put up an arch pout, and said : 
 
 * Don't you be so sure. You are a naughty thing 
 to deceive me so ! ' 
 
 *0h, yow'W get over it, sweetheart, you'll get 
 over it ; it was only fun, you know. Come, let's 
 be going,' 
 
 * But wait, wait ! The situation, you know. I 
 want to give you the situation,' said my man. 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 37 
 
 ' Well,' I said, * I'm just as grateful as I can be, 
 but really I don't want one.' 
 
 * But you can have the very choicest one in my 
 gift; 
 
 * Thanks again, with all my heart ; but I don't 
 even want that one.' 
 
 * Henry, I'm ashamed of you. You don't half 
 thank the good gentleman. May I do it for 
 you?' 
 
 * Indeed you shall, dear, if you can improve it. 
 Let us see you try.' 
 
 She walked to my man, got up in his lap, put 
 her arm round his neck, and kissed him right on 
 the mouth. Then the two old gentlemen shouted 
 with laughter, but I was dumfounded, just petrified, 
 as you may say. Portia said : 
 
 * Papa, he has said you haven't a situation in 
 your gift that he'd take ; and I feel just as hurt 
 as ' 
 
 * My darling ! is that your papa ? ' 
 
 * Yes ; he's my step-papa, and the dearest one 
 that ever was. You understand now, don't you, 
 why I was able to laugh when you told me at the 
 minister's, not knowing my relationships, what 
 trouble and worry papa's and Uncle Abel's scheme 
 was giving you ? ' 
 
38 THE £1/J00fi00 BANK-NOTE 
 
 Of course I spoke right up, now, without any 
 fooHng, and went straight to the point. 
 
 ' Oh, my dearest dear sir, I want to take back 
 what I said. You have got a situation open that I 
 want.' 
 
 * Name it.' 
 
 * Son-in-law.' 
 
 ' Well, well, well ! But you know, if you haven't 
 ever served in that capacity, you of course can't 
 furnish recommendations of a sort to satisfy the 
 conditions of the contract, and so ' 
 
 ' Try me— oh, do, I beg of you ! Only just try 
 me thirty or forty years, and if ' 
 
 ' Oh, well, all right ; it's but a httle thing to 
 ask. Take her along.' 
 
 Happy, we too ? There are not words enough 
 in the unabridged to describe it. And when London 
 got the whole history, a day or two later, of my 
 month's adventures with that bank-note, and how 
 they ended, did London talk, and have a good 
 time ? Yes. 
 
 My Portia's papa took that friendly and hos- 
 pitable bill back to the Bank of England and cashed 
 it; then the Bank cancelled it and made him a 
 present of it, and he gave it to us at our wedding, 
 and it has always hung in its frame in the sacredest 
 
THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 39 
 
 place in our home, ever since. For it gave me my 
 Portia. But for it I could not have remained in 
 .London, would not have appeared at the minister's, 
 never should have met her. And so I always say, 
 * Yes, it's a million-pounder, as you see ; but it 
 never made but one purchase in its life, and then 
 got the article for only about a tenth part of its 
 value.' 
 
4t 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 A MANUSCRIPT WITH A HISTORY 
 
 Note to the Editoe. — By glancing over the enclosed bundle 
 of rusty old manuscript, you will perceive that I once made 
 a great discovery : the discovery that certain sorts of things 
 which, from the beginning of the world, had always been 
 regarded as merely ' curious coincidences ' — that is to say, 
 accidents — were no more accidental than is the sending and 
 receiving of a telegram an accident. I made this discovery 
 sixteen or seventeen years ago, and gave it a name — ' Mental 
 Telegraphy.' It is the same thing around the outer edges 
 of which the Psychical Society of England began to grope 
 (and play with) four or five years ago, and which they named 
 ' Telepathy.' Within the last two or three years they have 
 penetrated towards the heart of the matter, however, and 
 have found out that mind can act upon mind in a quite de- 
 tailed and elaborate way over vast stretches of land and 
 water. And they have succeeded in doing, by their great 
 credit and influence, what I could never have done — they 
 have convinced the world that mental telegraphy is not a jest, 
 but a fact, and that it is a thing not rare, but exceedingly 
 common. They have done our age a service — and a very 
 great service, I think. 
 
 In this old manuscript you will find mention of an extra- 
 ordinary experience of mine in the mental telegraphic line, 
 of date about the year 1874 or 1875— the one concerning the 
 
42 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 Great Bonanza book. It was this experience that called my 
 attention to the matter under consideration. I began to keep 
 a record, after that, of such experiences of mine as seemed 
 explicable by the theory that minds telegraph thoughts to 
 each other. In 1878 I went to Germany and began to write 
 the book called A Tramp Ahroad. The bulk of this old batch 
 of manuscript was written at that time and for that book. 
 But I removed it when I came to revise the volume for the 
 press ; for I feared that the public would treat the thing as 
 a joke and throw it aside, whereas I was in earnest. 
 
 At home, eight or ten years ago, I tried to creep in under 
 shelter of an authority grave enough to protect the article 
 from ridicule— the North American Beview. But Mr. Met- 
 calf was too wary for me. He said that to treat these mere 
 'coincidences' seriously was a thing which the Bevieiu 
 couldn't dare to do ; that I must put either my name or my 
 nom de plume to the article, and thus save the Eevieiv from 
 harm. But I couldn't consent to that ; it would be the surest 
 possible way to defeat my desire that the public should re- 
 ceive the thing seriously, and be willing to stop and give it 
 some fair degree of attention. So I pigeon-holed the MS., 
 because I could not get it pubHshed anonymously. 
 
 Now see how the world has moved since then. These 
 small experiences of mine, which were too formidable at that 
 time for admission to a grave magazine — if the magazine 
 must allow them to appear as something above and beyond 
 'accidents' and 'coincidences' — are trifling and common- 
 place now, since the flood of light recently cast upon mental 
 telegraphy by the intelligent labours of the Psychical Society. 
 But I think they are worth publishing, just to show what 
 harmless and ordinary matters were considered dangerous 
 and incredible eight or ten years ago. 
 
 As I have said,'the bulk of this old manuscript was written 
 in 1878 ; a later part was written from time to time, two, 
 three, and four years afterwards. The ' Postscript ' I add to- 
 day. 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 43 
 
 May, '78. — Another of those apparently trifling 
 things has happened to me which puzzle and per- 
 plex all men every now and then, keep them think- 
 ing an hour or two, and leave their minds barren 
 of explanation or solution at last. Here it is — and 
 it looks inconsequential enough, I am obliged to 
 say. A few days ago I said : ^ It must be that 
 Frank Millet doesn't know we are in Germany, or 
 he would have written long before this. I have 
 been on the point of dropping him a line at least a 
 dozen times during the past six weeks, but I always 
 decided to wait a day or two longer, and see if we 
 shouldn't hear from him. But now I ivill write.' 
 And so I did. I directed the letter to Paris, and 
 thought, ' 'Now we shall hear from him before this 
 letter is fifty miles from Heidelberg — it always 
 happens so.' 
 
 True enough ; but idiy should it ? That is the 
 puzzling part of it. We are always talking about 
 letters * crossing ' each other, for that is one of the 
 very commonest accidents of this life. We call it 
 * accident,' but perhaps we misname it. We have 
 the instinct a dozen times a year that the letter we 
 are writing is going to * cross ' the other person's 
 letter ; and if the reader will rack his memory a 
 little he will recall the fact that this presentiment 
 
44 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 had strength enough to it to make him cut his letter 
 down to a decided briefness, because it would be a 
 waste of time to write a letter which was going to 
 * cross,' and hence be a useless letter. I think that 
 in my experience this instinct has generally come 
 to me in cases where I had put off my letter a good 
 while in the hope that the other person would 
 write. 
 
 Yes, as I was saying, I had waited five or six 
 weeks ; then I wrote but three lines, because I felt 
 and seemed to know that a letter from Millet would 
 cross mine. And so it did. He wrote the same day 
 that I wrote. The letters crossed each other. His 
 letter went to Berlin, care of the American minister, 
 who sent it to me. In this letter Millet said he had 
 been trying for six weeks to stumble upon somebody 
 who knew my German address, and at last the idea 
 had occurred to him that a letter sent to the care 
 of the embassy at Berlin might possibly find me. 
 
 Maybe it was an ' accident ' that he finally de- 
 termined to write me at the same moment that I 
 finally determined to WTite him, but I think not. 
 
 With me the most irritating thing has been to 
 wait a tedious time in a purely business matter, 
 hoping that the other party will do the writing, and 
 then sit down and do it myself, perfectly satisfied 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 45 
 
 that that other man is sitting down at the same 
 moment to write a letter which will ' cross ' mine. 
 And yet one must go on writing, just the same ; be- 
 cause if you get up from your table and postpone, 
 that other man will do the same thing, exactly as if 
 you two were harnessed together hke the Siamese ■ 
 twins, and must duplicate each other's movements. 
 
 Several months before I left home a New York 
 firm did some work about the house for me, and did 
 not make a success of it, as it seemed to me. When 
 the bill came, I wrote and said I wanted the work 
 perfected before I paid. They replied that they were 
 very busy, but that as soon as they could spare the 
 proper man the thing should be done. I waited 
 more than two months, enduring as patiently as 
 possible the companionship of bells which would 
 fire away of their own accord sometimes when no- 
 body was touching them, and at other times wouldn't 
 ring though you struck the button with a sledge- 
 hammer. Many a time I got ready to write and 
 then postponed it ; but at last I sat down one even- 
 ing and poured out my grief to the extent of a page 
 or so, and then cut my letter suddenly short, be- 
 cause a strong instinct told me that the firm had 
 begun to move in the matter. When I came down 
 to break-fast next morning the postman had not yet 
 
46 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 taken my letter away, but the electrical man had 
 been there, done his work, and was gone again ! 
 He had received his orders the previous evening 
 from his employers, and had come up by the night 
 train. 
 
 If that was an ' accident,' it took about three 
 months to get it up in good shape. 
 
 One evening last summer I arrived in Washing- 
 ton, registered at the Arlington Hotel, and went to 
 my room. I read and smoked until ten o'clock ; 
 then, finding I was not yet sleepy, I thought I would 
 take a breath of fresh air. So I went forth in the 
 rain, and tramped through one street after another 
 in an aimless and enjoyable way. I knew that Mr. 
 
 0 , a friend of mine, was in town, and I wished 
 
 I might run across him ; but I did not propose to 
 hunt for him at midnight, especially as I did not 
 know where he was stopping. Towards twelve 
 o'clock the streets had become so deserted that I 
 felt lonesome ; so I stepped into a cigar shop far 
 up the Avenue, and remained there fifteen minutes 
 listening to some bummers discussing national poli- 
 tics. Suddenly the spirit of prophecy came upon 
 me, and I said to myself, ' Now I will go out at this 
 door, turn to the left, walk ten steps, and meet Mr. 
 0 face to face.' I did it, too ! I could not see 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 47 
 
 his face, because he had an umbrella before it, and 
 it was pretty dark, anyhow, but he interrupted the 
 man he was walking and talking with, and I recog- 
 nised his voice and stopped him. 
 
 That I should step out there and stumble upon 
 Mr. 0 was nothing, but that I should know be- 
 forehand that I was going to do it was a good deal. 
 It is a very curious thing when you come to look at 
 it. I stood far within the cigar shop when I de- 
 livered my prophecy ; I walked about five steps to 
 the door, opened it, closed it after me, walked down 
 a flight of three steps to the sidewalk, then turned 
 to the left and walked four or five more, and found 
 my man. I repeat that in itself the thing was 
 nothing ; but to know it would happen so beforehand, 
 wasn't that really curious ? 
 
 I have criticised absent people so often, and then 
 discovered, to my humiliation, that I was talking 
 with their relatives, that I have grown superstitious 
 about that sort of thing and dropped it. How like 
 an idiot one feels after a blunder like that ! 
 
 "VYe are always mentioning people, and in that 
 very instant they appear before us. We laugh, and 
 say, * Speak of the devil,' and so forth, and there 
 we drop it, considering it an ' accident.' It is a 
 cheap and convenient way of disposing of a grave 
 
48 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 and very puzzling mystery. The fact is, it does 
 seem to happen too often to be an accident. 
 
 Now I come to the oddest thing that ever hap- 
 pened to me. Two or three years ago I was lying 
 in bed, idly musing, one morning — it was the 2nd 
 of March — when suddenly a red-hot new idea came 
 whistling down into my camp, and exploded with 
 such comprehensive effectiveness as to sweep the 
 vicinity clean of rubbishy reflections, and fill the air 
 with their dust and flying fragments. This idea, 
 stated in simple phrase, was that the time was ripe 
 and the market ready for a certain book ; a book 
 which ought to be written at once ; a book which 
 must command attention and be of peculiar interest 
 — to wit, a book about the Nevada silver mines. 
 The ' Great Bonanza ' w^as a new wonder then, and 
 everybody was talking about it. It seemed to me 
 that the person best qualified to write this book was 
 Mr. William H. . Wright, a journalist of Virginia, 
 Nevada, by whose side I had scribbled many months 
 when I was a reporter there ten or twelve years be- 
 fore. He might be alive still ; he might be dead ; 
 I could not tell ; but I would write him, anyway. 
 I began by merely and modestly suggesting that he 
 make such a book ; but my interest grew as I went 
 on, and I ventured to map out what I thought ought 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 49 
 
 to be the plan of the work, he bemg an old friend, 
 and not given to taking good intentions for ill. I 
 even dealt with details, and suggested the order and 
 sequence which they should follow. I was about to 
 put the manuscript in an envelope, when the thought 
 occurred to me that if this book should be written 
 at my suggestion, and then no pubHsher happened 
 to want it, I should feel uncomfortable ; so I con- 
 cluded to keep my letter back until I should have 
 secured a publisher. I pigeon-holed my document, 
 and dropped a note to my own publisher, asking 
 him to name a day for a business consultation. He 
 was out of town on a far journey. My note re- 
 mained unanswered, and at the end of three or four 
 days the whole matter had passed out of my mind. 
 On the 9th of March the postman brought three or 
 four letters, and among them a thick one whose 
 superscription was in a hand w^hich seemed dimly 
 familiar to me. I could not ' place ' it at first, but 
 presently I succeeded. Then I said to a visiting 
 relative who was present : 
 
 'Now I will do a miracle. I will tell you 
 everything this letter contains — date, signature, and 
 all — without breaking the seal. It is from a 
 Mr. Wright, of Virginia, Nevada, and is dated 
 March 2, — seven days ago. Mr. Wright proposes 
 
so. MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 to make a book about the silver mines and the Great 
 Bonanza, and asks what I, as a friend, think of the 
 idea. He says his subjects are to be so-and-so, their 
 order and sequence so-and-so, and he will close 
 with a history of the chief feature of the book, the 
 Great Bonanza.' 
 
 I opened the letter, and showed that 1 had stated 
 the date and the contents correctly. Mr. Wright's 
 letter simply contained what my own letter, written 
 on the same date, contained, and mine still lay in 
 its pigeon-hole, where it had been lying during the 
 seven days since it was written. 
 
 There was no clairvoyance about this, if I 
 rightly comprehend what clairvoyance is. I thmk 
 the clairvoyant professes to actually zee concealed 
 writing, and read it off word for word. This was 
 not my case. I only seemed to know, and to know 
 absolutely the contents of the letter in detail and 
 due order, but I had to ivord them myself. I 
 translated them, so to speak, out of Wright's 
 language into my own. 
 
 Wright's letter and the one which I had written 
 to him but never sent were in substance the same. 
 
 Necessarily this could not come by accident ; 
 Buch elaborate accidents cannot happen. Chance 
 might have duphcated one or two of the details, but 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 51 
 
 she would have broken down on the rest. I could 
 not doubt — there was no tenable reason for doubt- 
 ing — that Mr. Wright's mind and mine had been 
 in close and crystal- clear communication with each 
 other across three thousand miles of mountain and 
 desert on the morning of March 2. I did not 
 consider that both minds originated that succes- 
 sion of ideas, but that one mind originated them, 
 and simply telegraphed them to the other. I was 
 curious to know which brain was the telegrapher 
 and which the receiver, so I wrote and asked for 
 particulars. Mr. Wright's reply showed that his 
 mind had done the originating and telegraphing 
 and mine the receiving. Mark that significant 
 thing, now; consider for a moment how many a 
 splendid 'original' idea has been unconsciously 
 stolen from a man three thousand miles away ! If 
 one should question that this is so, let him look 
 into the Cyclopaedia, and con once more that curious 
 thing in the history of inventions which has puzzled 
 everyone so much — that is, the frequency with 
 which the same machine or other contrivance has 
 been invented at the same time by several persons 
 in different quarters of the globe. The world was 
 without an electric telegraph for several thousand 
 years ; then Professor Henry, the American, Wheat- 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINUIS LIBRARY 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
52 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 stone in England, Morse on the sea, and a German 
 in Munich, all invented it at the same time. The 
 discovery of certain ways of applying steam was 
 made in two or three comitries in the same year. 
 Is it not possible that inventors are constantly and 
 unwittingly stealing each other's ideas whilst they 
 stand thousands of miles asunder ? 
 
 Last spring a literary friend of mine,^ who lived 
 a hundred miles away, paid me a visit, and in the 
 course of our talk he said he had made a discovery 
 — conceived an entirely new idea — one which cer- 
 tainly had never been used in literature. He told 
 me what it was. I handed him a manuscript, and 
 said he would find substantially the same idea in 
 that — a manuscript which I had written a week be- 
 fore. The idea had been in my mind since the pre- 
 vious November ; it had only entered his while I 
 was putting it on paper, a week gone by. He had 
 not yet written his ; so he left it unwritten, and 
 gracefully made over all his right and title in the 
 idea to me. 
 
 The following statement, which I have clipped 
 from a newspaper, is true. I had the facts from Mr. 
 Howells's lips when the episode was new : 
 
 * A remarkable story of a Kterary coincidence is 
 > W. D. Howell!?. 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 53 
 
 told of Mr. Howells's Atlantic Monthly" serial, 
 Dr. Brccn's Practice." A lady of Kochester, New 
 York, contributed to the magazine, after ''Dr. 
 Breen's Practice " was in type, a short story which 
 so much resembled Mr. Howells's that he felt it 
 necessary to call upon her and explain the situation 
 of affairs in order that no charge of plagiarism might 
 be preferred against him. He showed her the proof- 
 sheets of his story, and satisfied her that the simi- 
 larity between her work and his was one of those 
 strange coincidences which have from time to time 
 occurred in the literary world.' 
 
 I had read portions of Mr. Howells's story, both 
 in manuscript and in proof, before the lady offered 
 her contribution to the magazine. 
 
 Here is another case. I clip it from a news- 
 paper : 
 
 *The republication of Miss Alcott's novel 
 "Moods" recalls to a writer in the Boston Vo^l a 
 singular coincidence which was brought to light 
 before the book was first published: ''Miss Anna 
 M. Crane, of Baltimore, pubHshed ' Emily Chester,' 
 a novel which was pronounced a very striking and 
 strong story. A comparison of this book with 
 * Moods ' showed that the two writers, though entire 
 strangers to each other, and living hundreds of miles 
 
54 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 apart, had both chosen the same subject for their 
 novels, had followed almost the same line of treatment 
 up to a certain point, where the parallel ceased, and 
 the denouements were entirely opposite. And even 
 more curious, the leading characters in both books 
 had identically the same names, so that the names 
 in Miss Alcott's novel had to be changed. Then the 
 book was published by Loring." ' 
 
 Four or five times within my recollection there 
 has been a lively newspaper war in this country 
 over poems whose authorship was claimed by two 
 or three different people at the same time. There 
 was a war of this kind over 'Nothing to Wear,' 
 * Beautiful Snow,' 'Eock Me to Sleep, Mother,' 
 and also over one of Mr. Will Carleton's early bal- 
 lads, I think. These were all blameless cases of 
 unintentional and unwitting mental telegraphy, I 
 judge. 
 
 A word more as to Mr. Wright, He had had 
 his book in his mind some time ; consequently he, 
 and not I, had originated the idea of it. The 
 subject was entirely foreign to my thoughts ; I was 
 wholly absorbed in other things. Yet this friend, 
 whom I had not seen and had hardly thought of 
 for eleven years, was able to shoot his thoughts at 
 me across three thousand miles of country, and fill 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 55 
 
 my head with them, to the exclusion of every other 
 interest, in a single moment. He had begun his 
 letter after finishing his work on the morning paper 
 —a little after three o'clock, he said. When it was 
 three in the morning in Nevada it was about six m 
 Hartford, where I lay awake thinking about nothing 
 in particular ; and just about that time his ideas 
 came pouring into my head from across the con- 
 tinent, and I got up and put them on paper, under 
 the impression that they were my own original 
 thoughts. 
 
 I have never seen any mesmeric or clairvoyant 
 performances or spiritual manifestations which 
 were in the least degree convincing— a fact which 
 is not of consequence, since my opportunities have 
 been meagre ; but I am forced to believe that one 
 human mind (still inhabiting the flesh) can com- 
 municate with another, over any sort of a distance, 
 and without any artificial preparation of ' sym- 
 pathetic conditions ' to act as a transmitting agent. 
 I suppose that when the sympathetic conditions 
 happen to exist the two minds communicate with 
 each other, and that otherwise they don't ; and I 
 suppose that if the sympathetic conditions could be 
 kept up right along, the two minds would continue 
 to correspond without limit as to time. 
 
56 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 Now there is that curious thing which happens 
 to everybody : suddenly a succession of thoughts 
 or sensations flock in upon you, which startles you 
 with the weird idea that you have ages ago experi- 
 enced just this succession of thoughts or sensations 
 in a previous existence. The previous existence is 
 possible, no doubt, but I am persuaded that the 
 solution of this hoary mystery lies not there, but in 
 the fact that some far-off stranger has been tele- 
 graphing his thoughts and sensations into your 
 consciousness, and that he stopped because some 
 counter-current or other obstruction intruded and 
 broke the line of communication. Perhaps they 
 seem repetitions to you because they are repetitions 
 got at second hand from the other man. Possibly 
 Mr. Brown, the 'mind-reader,' reads other people's 
 minds, possibly he does not; but I know of a 
 surety that I have read another man's mind, and 
 therefore I do not see why Mr. Brown shouldn't do 
 the like also. 
 
 I wrote the foregoing about three years ago, in 
 Heidelberg, and laid the manuscript aside, purpos- 
 ing to add to it instances of mind-telegraphing from 
 time to time as they should fall under my experi- 
 ence. Meantime the * crossing ' of letters has been 
 so fre(juent as to become monotonous. However, I 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 57 
 
 have managed to get something useful out of this 
 hint ; for now, when I get tired of waiting upon a 
 man whom I very much wish to hear from, I sit 
 down and comj)d him to write, whether he wants 
 to or not ; that is to say, I sit down and write him, 
 and then tear my letter up, satisfied that my act 
 has forced him to write me at the same moment. 
 I do not need to mail my letter— the writing it is 
 the only essential thing. 
 
 Of course I have grown superstitious about this 
 letter-crossing business — this was natural. We 
 stayed awhile in Venice after leaving Heidelberg. 
 One day I was going down the Grand Canal in a 
 gondola, when I heard a shout behind me, and 
 looked around to see what the matter was; a 
 gondola was rapidly following, and the gondoHer 
 was making signs to me to stop. I did so, and the 
 pursuing boat ranged up alongside. Tliere was an 
 American lady in it— a resident of Venice. She 
 was in a good deal of distress. She said : 
 
 * There's a New York gentleman and his wife 
 at the Hotel Britannia who arrived a week ago, 
 expecting to find news of their son, whom they 
 have heard nothing about during eight months. 
 There was no news. The lady is down sick with 
 despair ; the gentleman can't sleep or eat. Their 
 
^8 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 son arrived at San Francisco eight months ago, 
 and announced the fact in a letter to his parents 
 the same day. That is the last trace of him. The 
 parents have been in Europe ever since ; but their 
 trip has been spoiled, for they have occupied their 
 time simply in drifting restlessly fi'om place to 
 place, and writing letters everywhere and to every- 
 body, begging for news of their son; but the 
 mystery remains as dense as ever. Now the 
 gentleman wants to stop writing and go to cabling. 
 He wants to cable San Francisco. He has never 
 done it before, because he is afraid of — of he 
 doesn't know what — death of his son, no doubt. 
 But he wants somebody to advise him to cable — 
 wants me to do it. Now I simply can't ; for if no 
 news came that mother yonder would die. So I 
 have chased you up in order to get you to support 
 me in urging him to be patient, and put the thing 
 off a week or two longer ; it may be the saving of 
 this lady. Come along ; let's not lose any time.' 
 
 So I went along, but I had a programme of my 
 own. When I was introduced to the gentleman I 
 said : * I have some superstitions, but they are 
 worthy of respect. If you will cable San Francisco 
 immediately, you will hear news of your son inside 
 of twenty-four hours. I don't know that you will 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 59 
 
 get the news from San Francisco, but you will get 
 it from somewhere. The only necessary thing is 
 to ca5Ze— that is all. The news will come within 
 twenty-four hours. Cable Pekin, if you prefer; 
 there is no choice in this matter. This delay is all 
 occasioned by your not cabling long ago, when you 
 were first moved to do it.' 
 
 It seems absurd that this gentleman should 
 have been cheered up by this nonsense, but he 
 was ; he brightened up at once, and sent his cable- 
 gram ; and next day, at noon, when a long letter 
 arrived from his lost son, the man was as grateful 
 to me as if I had really had something to do with 
 the hurrying up of that letter. The son had 
 shipped from San Francisco in a sailing vessel, and 
 his letter was written from the first port he touched 
 at, months afterwards. 
 
 This incident argues nothing, and is valueless. 
 I insert it only to show how strong is the super- 
 stition which ' letter-crossing ' has bred in me. I 
 was so sure that a cablegram sent to any place, no 
 matter where, would defeat itself by * crossing ' the 
 incoming news, that my confidence was able to 
 raise up a hopeless man, and make him cheery and 
 hopeful. 
 
 But here are two or three incidents which come 
 
6o 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 strictly under the head of mind-telegraphmg. One 
 Monday morning, about a year ago, the mail came 
 in, and I picked up one of the letters, and said to 
 a friend : * Without opening this letter I will tell 
 
 you what it says. It is from Idrs. , and she says 
 
 she was in New York last Saturday, and was pur- 
 posing to run up here in the afternoon train and 
 surprise us, but at the last moment changed her 
 mind and returned westward to her home.' 
 
 I was right ; my details were exactly correct. 
 
 Yet we had had no suspicion that Mrs. was 
 
 coming to New York, or that she had even a remote 
 intention of visiting us. 
 
 I smoke a good deal — that is to say, all the 
 time— so, during seven years, I have tried to keep 
 a box of matches handy, behind a picture on the 
 mantelpiece; but I have had to take it out in 
 trying, because George (coloured), who makes the 
 fires and lights the gas, always uses my matches 
 and never replaces them. Commands and per- 
 suasions have gone for nothing with him all these 
 seven years. One day last summer, when our 
 family had been away from home several months, 
 I said to a member of the household : 
 
 * Now, with all this long holiday, and nothing 
 in the way to interrupt ' 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 6i 
 
 *I can finish the sentence for you/ said the 
 member of the household. 
 ' Do it, then,' said I. 
 
 * George ought to be able, by practising, to 
 learn to let those matches alone.' 
 
 It was correctly done. That was what I was 
 going to say. Yet until that moment George and 
 the matches had not been in my mind for three 
 months, and it is plain that the part of the sentence 
 which I uttered offers not the least cue or suggestion 
 of what I was purposing to follow it with. 
 
 My mother ^ is descended from the younger of 
 two English brothers named Lambton, who settled 
 in this country a few generations ago. The tradi- 
 tion goes that the elder of the two eventually fell 
 heir to a certain estate in England (now an 
 earldom), and died right away. This has always 
 been the way with our family. They always die 
 when they could make anything by not doing it. 
 The two Lambtons left plenty of Lambtons behind 
 them ; and when at last, about fifty years ago, the 
 English baronetcy was exalted to an earldom, the 
 great tribe of American Lambtons began to bestir 
 themselves — that is, those descended from the 
 elder branch. Ever since that day one or another 
 * She was still living when this was written. 
 
62 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 of these has been fretting his Hfe uselessly away 
 with schemes to get at his * rights.' The present 
 'rightful earl' — I mean the American one— used to 
 write me occasionally, and try to interest me in his 
 projected raids upon the title and estates by offermg 
 me a share in the latter portion of the spoil ; but I 
 have always managed to resist his temptations. 
 
 Well, one day last summer I was lying under a 
 tree, thinking about nothing in particular, when an 
 absurd idea flashed into my head, and I said to a 
 member of the household, ' Suppose I should live 
 to be ninety-two, and dumb and blind and tooth- 
 less, and just as I was gasping out what was left of 
 me on my death-bed ' 
 
 *Wait, I will finish the sentence,' said the 
 member of the household. 
 
 * Go on,' said I. 
 
 'Somebody should rush in with a document, 
 and say, All the other heirs are dead, and you are 
 the Earl of Durham ! " ' 
 
 That is truly what I was going to say. Yet 
 until that moment the subject had not entered my 
 mind or been referred to in my hearing for months 
 before. A few years ago this thing would havo 
 astounded me, but the like could not much surprise 
 me now, though it happened every week; for I 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 63 
 
 think I know now that mind can communicate 
 accurately with mind without the aid of the slow 
 and clumsy vehicle of speech. 
 
 This age does seem to have exhausted inven- 
 tion nearly; still, it has one important contract 
 on its hands yet— the invention of the phreno- 
 plione) that is to say, a method whereby the 
 communicating of mind with mind may be brought 
 under command and reduced to certauity and 
 system. The telegraph and the telephone are 
 going to become too slow and wordy for our needs. 
 We must have the tliouglit itself shot into our 
 minds from a distance ; then, if we need to put it 
 into words, we can do that tedious work at our 
 leisure. Doubtless the something which conveys 
 our thoughts through the air from brain to brain 
 is a finer and subtler form of electricity, and all we 
 need do is to find out how to capture it and how to 
 force it to do its work, as we have had to do in the 
 case of the electric currents. Before the day of 
 telegraphs neither one of these marvels would have 
 seemed any easier to achieve than the other. 
 
 While I am writing this, doubtless somebody 
 on the other side of the globe is writing it too. 
 The question is, am I inspiring him or is he in- 
 spiring me ? I cannot answer that ; but that these 
 
64 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 thoughts have been passing through somebody else's 
 mind all the time I have been setting them down 
 I have no sort of doubt. 
 
 I will close this paper with a remark which I 
 found some time ago in BoswelFs ' Johnson ' : 
 
 * Voltaire's " Candide " is wonderfully similar in 
 its plan and conduct to Johnson's Easselas " ; 
 hisomuch that I have heard Johnson say that if 
 they had not been published so closely one after 
 the other that there w^as not time for imitation, it 
 U'oiild have been in vain to deny that the scheme of 
 that ivhich came latest ivas tahcn from the other.' 
 
 The two men were widely separated from each 
 other at the time, and the sea lay between. 
 
 PosTscrjrT 
 
 In the ^Atlantic' for June 1882, Mr. John 
 Fiske refers to the often-quoted Darwin-and-Wallace 
 * coincidence ' : 
 
 'I alluded, just now, to the ''unforeseen cir- 
 cumstance " which led Mr. Darwin in 1859 to break 
 his long silence, and to write and publish the 
 ''Origin of Species." This circumstance served, 
 no less than the extraordinary success of his book, 
 to show how ripe the minds of men had become 
 for entertaining such views as those which Mr. 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 65 
 
 Darwin propounded. In 1858 Mr. Wallace, who 
 was then engaged m studying the natural history 
 of the Malay Archipelago, sent to Mr. Darwin (as 
 to the man most likely to understand him) a paper 
 in which he sketched the outKnes of a theory 
 identical with that upon which Mr. Darwin had 
 so long been at work. The same sequence of ob- 
 served facts and inferences that had led Mr. 
 Darwin to the discovery of Natural Selection and 
 its consequences had led Mr. Wallace to the very 
 threshold of the same discovery ; but in Mr. Wal- 
 lace's mind the theory had by no means been 
 wrought out to the same degree of completeness to 
 which it had been wrought in the mind of Mr. 
 Darwin. In the preface to his charming book on 
 Natural Selection, Mr. Wallace, with rare modesty 
 and candour, acknowledges that whatever value his 
 speculations may have had, they have been utterly 
 surpassed in richness and cogency of proof by those 
 of Mr. Darwin. This is no doubt true, and Mr. 
 Wallace has done such good work in further 
 illustration of the theory that he can well afford to 
 rest content with the second place in the first 
 announcement of it. 
 
 *The coincidence, however, between Mr. Wal- 
 lace's conclusions and those of Mr. Darwin was 
 
66 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 very remarkable. But, after all, coincidences of 
 this sort have not been uncommon in the history 
 of scientific inquiry. Nor is it at all surprising 
 that they should occur now and then, when we 
 remember that a great and pregnant discovery 
 must always be concerned with some question 
 which many of the foremost minds in the world 
 are busy thinking about. It was so with the dis- 
 covery of the differential calculus, and again with the 
 discovery of the planet Neptune. It was so with 
 the interpretation of the Egyptian hieroglyphics, 
 and with the establishment of the undulatory 
 theory of light. It was so, to a considerable 
 extent, with the introduction of the new chemistry, 
 with the discovery of the mechanical equivalent of 
 heat, and the whole doctrine of the correlation of 
 forces. It was so with the invention of the electric 
 telegraph and with the discovery of spectrum 
 analysis. And it is not at all strange that it 
 should have been so with the doctrine of the origin 
 of species through natural selection.' 
 
 He thinks these * coincidences ' were apt to 
 happen because the matters from which they 
 sprang were matters which many of the foremost 
 minds in the world were busy thinking about. But 
 perhaps one man in each case did the telegraphing 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 67 
 
 to the others* The aberrations which gave Lever- 
 rier the idea that there must be a planet of such 
 and such mass and such and such an orbit hidden 
 from sight out yonder in the remote abysses of 
 space were not new; they had been noticed by 
 astronomers for generations. Then why should it 
 happen to occur to three people, widely separated 
 — Leverrier, Mrs. Somerville, and Adams — to sud- 
 denly go to worrying about those aberrations all at 
 the same time, and set themselves to work to find 
 out what caused them, and to measure and weigh 
 an invisible planet, and calculate its orbit, and hunt 
 it down and catch it ? — a strange project which no- 
 body but they had ever thought of before. If one 
 astronomer had invented that odd and happy pro- 
 ject fifty years before, don't you think he would have 
 telegraphed it to several others without knowing it ? 
 
 But now I come to a puzzler. How is it that 
 inanimate objects are able to affect the mind? They 
 seem to do that. However, I wish to throw in a 
 parenthesis first— just a reference to a thing every- 
 body is familiar with — the experience of receiving a 
 clear and particular ansiver to your telegram before 
 your telegram has reached the sender of the answer. 
 That is a case where your telegram has gone straight 
 from your brain to the man it was meant for, far out- 
 s' 2 
 
68 
 
 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 stripping the wire's slow electricity, and it is an 
 exercise of mental telegraphy w^hich is as common 
 as dining. To return to the influence of inanimate 
 things. In the cases of non-professional clairvoyance 
 examined by the Psychical Society the clairvoyant 
 has usually been blindfolded, then some object 
 which has been touched or worn by a person is 
 placed in his hand ; the clairvoyant immediately de- 
 scribes that person, and goes on and gives a history 
 of some event with which the text object has been 
 connected. If the inanimate object is able to affect 
 and inform the clairvoyant's mind, maybe it can do 
 the same when it is working in the interest of men- 
 tal telegraphy. Once a lady in the West wrote me 
 that her son was coming to New York to remain 
 three weeks, and w^ould pa}" me a visit if invited, 
 and she gave me his address. I mislaid the letter, 
 and forgot all about the matter till the three weeks 
 were about up. Then a sudden and fiery irruption 
 of remorse burst up in my brain that illuminated all 
 the region round about, and I sat down at once and 
 wrote to the lady and asked for that lost address. 
 But, upon reflection, I judged that the stirring up 
 of my recollection had not been an accident, so I 
 added a postscript to sa}^ never mind, I should get 
 a letter from her son before night. And I did get 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 69 
 
 it ; for the letter was already in the town, although 
 not delivered yet. It had influenced me somehow. 
 I have had so many experiences of this sort — a dozen 
 of them at least— that I am nearly persuaded that 
 inanimate objects do not confine their activities to 
 helping the clairvoyant, but do every now and then 
 give the mental telegraphist a lift. 
 
 The case of mental telegraphy which I am com- 
 ing to now comes under I don't exactly know what 
 head. I clipped it from one of our local papers six 
 or eight years ago. I know the details to be right 
 and true, for the story was told to me in the same 
 form by one of the two persons concerned (a clergy- 
 man of Hartford) at the time that the curious thing 
 happened : 
 
 *A Eemarkable Coincidence. — Strange coin- 
 cidences make the most interesting of stories and 
 most curious of studies. Nobody can quite say how 
 they come about, but everybody appreciates the fact 
 when they do come, and it is seldom that any more 
 complete and curious coincidence is recorded of 
 minor importance than the following, which is 
 absolutely true and occurred in this city : 
 
 * At the time of the building of one of the finest 
 residences of Hartford, which is still a very new 
 house, a local firm supplied the wall-paper for 
 
70 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 certain rooms, contracting both to furnish and to 
 put on the paper. It happened that they did not 
 calculate the size of one room exactly right, and the 
 paper of the design selected for it fell short just half 
 a roll. They asked for delay enough to send on to 
 the manufacturers for what was needed, and were 
 told that there w^as no especial hurry. It happened 
 that the manufacturers had none on hand, and had 
 destroyed the blocks from which it was printed. 
 They wrote that they had a full list of the dealers 
 to whom they had sold that paper, and that they 
 w^ould write to each of these, and get from some of 
 them a roll. It might involve a delay of a couple 
 of weeks, but they would surely get it. 
 
 * In the course of time came a letter saying that, 
 to their great surprise, they could not find a single 
 roll. Such a thing was very unusual, but in this 
 case it had so happened. Accordingly the local 
 firm asked for further time, sajdng they would write 
 to their own customers who had bought of that 
 pattern, and would get the piece from them. But 
 to their surprise, this effort also failed. A long 
 time had now elapsed, and there was no use of de- 
 laying any longer. They had contracted to paper 
 the room, and their only course was to take off that 
 which was insufficient and put on some other of 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 7i 
 
 which there ^vas enough to go around. Accordingly, 
 at length a man was sent out to remove the paper. 
 He got his apparatus ready, and was about tobegm 
 work, under the direction of the owner of the build- 
 ing, when the latter was for the moment called 
 away. The house was large and very interestmg, 
 and so many people had rambled about it that 
 finally admission had been refused by a sign at the 
 door. On the occasion, however, when a gentleman 
 had knocked and asked for leave to look about, the 
 owner, being on the premises, had been sent for to 
 reply to the request in person. That was the call 
 that for the moment delayed the final preparations. 
 The gentleman went to the door and admitted the 
 stranger, saying he would show him about the 
 house, but first must return for a moment to that 
 room to finish his directions there, and he told the 
 curious story about the paper as they went on. 
 They entered the room together, and the first thing 
 the stranger, who lived fifty miles away, said on 
 looking about was, "Why, I have that very paper 
 on a room in my house, and I have an extra roll of 
 it laid away, which is at your service." In a few 
 days the wall was papered according to the original 
 contract. Had not the owner been at the house, 
 the stranger would not have been admitted; had 
 
7* MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 he called a , ay later, it would have been too late • 
 had not the facts been almost accidentally to o' 
 him, he would probably have said nothing of th 
 paper, and so on. The exact fitting of all the •! 
 cumstances :s something very remarkable, and 
 make one of those stories that seem hardly a 
 eidental m their nature ' ^ 
 
 -yhrryM?;^*'^^^^^^^^ 
 
 diJit o, f f . T ' '^"^ I ^^-e to 
 
 itTy^Jdit'^"^^^^^ 
 
 whenLakfp.-ij^r:b::;\r'^'^~-- 
 
 ,1. XT , answer promnflv 
 
 when the last two words of the question begTto 
 grow ana spread and swell, and presently t l ey a 
 ained to vast dimensions. She did not know'hat 
 theywereimportant;andIdidnotat first b t I 
 
 -„ saw that they were putting me on the Id 0 
 the solution of a mystery which had perplexed me 
 a good deal. You will see what I mean In " 
 d wn to ,t. Ever since the English Society fo 
 Psychical Eesearch began its searching invesia 
 ;ons 0 ghost stories, haunted houses, and a p ^ • " 
 -ns 0 the living and the dead, I ha.; readTh i^ 
 
 one of thea- commonest inquiries of a dreamer or 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 73 
 
 a vision- seer is, ' Are you sure you were awake at 
 the time ? ' If the man can't say he is sure he was 
 awake, a doubt falls upon his tale right there. But 
 if he is positive he was awake, and offers reasonable 
 evidence to substantiate it, the fact counts largely 
 for the credibility of his story. It does with the 
 Society, and it did with me until that lady asked 
 me the above question the other day. 
 
 The question set me to considering, and brought 
 me to the conclusion that you can be asleep— at 
 least wholly unconscious — for a time, and not sus- 
 pect that it has happened, and not have any way 
 to prove that it Ifias happened. A memorable case 
 was in my mind. About a year ago I was standing 
 on the porch one day, when I saw a man coming 
 up the walk. He was a stranger, and I hoped he 
 would ring and carry his business into the house 
 without stopping to argue with me ; he would have 
 to pass the front door to get to me, and I hoped he 
 wouldn't take the trouble ; to help, I tried to look 
 like a stranger myself — it often works. I was 
 looking straight at that man ; he had got to within 
 ten feet of the door and within twenty-five feet of 
 me — and suddenly he disappeared. It was as as- 
 tounding as if a church should vanish from before 
 your face and leave nothing behind it but a vacant 
 
74 MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 
 
 lot. I was unspeakably delighted. I had seen an 
 apparition at last, with my own eyes, in broad day- 
 light. I made up my mind to write an account of 
 it to the Society. I ran to where the spectre had 
 been, to make sure he was playing fair, then I ran 
 to the other end of the porch, scanning the open 
 grounds as I went. No, everything was perfect ; 
 he couldn't have escaped without my seeing him ; 
 he was an apparition, without the slightest doubt, 
 and I would write him up before he was cold. I 
 ran, hot with excitement, and let myself in with a 
 latch-key. When I stepped into the hall my lungs 
 collapsed and my heart stood still. For there sat 
 that same apparition in a chair, all alone, and as 
 quiet and reposeful as if he had come to stay a 
 year ! The shock kept me dumb for a moment or 
 two, then I said, ' Did you come in at that door ? ' 
 ^Yes.' 
 
 * Did you open it, or did you ring ? ' 
 
 * I rang, and the coloured man opened it.' 
 
 I said to myself : ' This is astonishing. It 
 takes George all of two minutes to answer the door- 
 bell when he is in a hurry, and I have never seen 
 him in a hurry. How did this man stand two 
 minutes at that door, within five steps of me, and I 
 did not see him ? * 
 
MENTAL TELEGRAPHY 75 
 
 I should have gone to my grave puzzUng over 
 that riddle but for that lady's chance question last 
 week: 'Have you ever had a vision— when awake?' 
 It stands explained now. During at least sixty 
 seconds that day I was asleep, or at least totally 
 unconscious, without suspecting it. In that interval 
 the man came to my immediate vicinity, rang, 
 stood there and waited, then entered and closed 
 the door, and I did not see him and did not hear 
 the door slam. 
 
 If he had slipped around the house in that 
 interval and gone into the cellar— he had time 
 enough— I should have written him up for the 
 Society, and magnified him, and gloated over him, 
 and hurrahed about him, and thirty yoke of oxen 
 could not have pulled the belief out of me that 
 I was of the favoured ones of the earth, and had 
 seen a vision— while wide awake. 
 
 Now, how are you to tell when you are awake ? 
 What are you to go by ? People bite their fingers 
 to find out. Why, you can do that in a dream. 
 
77 
 
 A CURB FOR THE BLUES 
 
 By courtesy of Mr. Cable I came into possession of 
 a singular book eight or ten years ago. It is 
 likely that mine is now the only copy in existence. 
 Its title-page, unabbreviated, reads as follows : 
 
 * The Enemy Conquered ; or, Love Triumphant. 
 By G. Kagsdale McClintock,^ author of An 
 Address," etc., delivered at Sunflower Hill, South 
 Carolina, and member of the Yale Law School, 
 New Haven : pubhshed by T. H. Pease, 83 Chapel 
 Street, 1845.' 
 
 No one can take up this book, and lay it down 
 again unread. Whoever reads one line of it is 
 caught, is chained ; he has become the contented 
 slave of its fascinations ; and he will read and 
 read, devour and devour, and will not let it go out 
 of his hand till it is linished to the last Hne, though 
 the house be on fire over his head. And after a 
 
 1 The name here given is a substitute for the one actually 
 attached to the pamphlet. 
 
78 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 first reading, he will not throw it aside, but will 
 keep it by him, with his Shakspeare and his 
 Homer, and will take it up many and many a 
 time, when the world is dark, and his spirits are 
 low, and be straightway cheered and refreshed. 
 Yet this work has been allowed to lie wholly 
 neglected, unmentioned, and apparently unre- 
 gretted, for nearly half a century. 
 
 The reader must not imagine that he is to find 
 in it wisdom, brilliancy, fertility of invention, 
 ingenuity of construction, excellence of form, 
 purity of style, perfection of imagery, truth to 
 nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible 
 situations, humanly possible people, fluent narra- 
 tive, connected sequence of events — or f)hilosopliy, 
 or logic, or sense. No ; the rich, deep, beguiling 
 charm of the book lies in the total and miraculous 
 ahsence from it of all these qualities — a charm 
 which is completed and perfected by the evident 
 fact that the author, whose naive innocence easily 
 and surely wins our regard, and almost our wor- 
 ship, does not know that they are absent, does not 
 even suspect that they are absent. When read by 
 the light of these helps to an understanding of the 
 situation, the book is delicious — profoundly and 
 satisfyingly delicious. 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 79 
 
 1 call it a book because the author calls it a 
 book ; I call it a work because he calls it a work ; 
 but in truth it is merely a duodecimo pamphlet of 
 thirty-one pages. It was written for fame and 
 money, as the author very frankly — yes, and very 
 hopefully, too, poor fellow — says in his preface. 
 The money never came ; no penny of it ever came ; 
 and how long, how pathetically loiTg, the fame has 
 been deferred — forty-seven years ! He was young 
 then, it would have been so much to him then ; 
 but will he care for it now ? 
 
 As time is measured in America, McClintock's 
 epoch is antiquity. In his long- vanished day the 
 Southern author had a passion for ' eloquence ' ; it 
 was his pet, his darling. He would be eloquent, 
 or perish. And he recognised only one kind of 
 eloquence, the lurid, the tempestuous, the volcanic. 
 He liked words ; big words, fine words, grand 
 words, rumbling, thundering, reverberating words 
 — with sense attaching if it could be got in with- 
 out marring the sound, but not otherwise. He 
 loved to stand up before a dazed world, and pour 
 forth flame, and smoke, and lava, and pumice- 
 stone, into the skies, and work his subterranean 
 thunders, and shake himself with earthquakes, 
 and stench himself with sulphur fumes. If he 
 
8o A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 consumed his own fields and vineyards, that was 
 a pity, yes ; but he would have his eruption at 
 any cost. Mr. McClintock's eloquence — and he is 
 always eloquent, his crater is always] spouting — 
 is of the pattern common to his day, but he 
 departs from the custom of the time in one respect : 
 his brethren allowed sense to intrude when it did 
 not mar the sound, but he does not allow it to 
 intrude at all. For example, consider this figure, 
 which he uses in the village ' Address ' referred to 
 with such candid complacency in the title-page 
 above quoted — * like the topmast topaz of an 
 ancient tower.' Please read it again ; contemplate 
 it ; measure it ; w^alk around it ; climb up it ; try 
 to get at an approximate realisation of the size of 
 it. Is the fellow to that to be found in literature, 
 ancient or modern, foreign or domestic, living or 
 dead, drunk or sober ? One notices how fine and 
 grand it sounds. We know that if it was loftily 
 uttered, it got a noble burst of applause from the 
 villagers ; yet there isn't a ray of sense in it, or 
 meaning to it. 
 
 McClintock finished his education at Yale in 
 1843, and came to Hartford on a visit that same 
 year. I have talked with men who at that time 
 talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was 
 real. One needs to remember that fact, and to 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 8i 
 
 keep fast hold of it ; it is the only way to keep 
 McClintock's book from undermining one's faith in 
 McClintock's actuality. 
 
 As to the book. The first four pages are 
 devoted to an inflamed eulogy of Woman— simply 
 Woman in general, or perhaps as an Institution — 
 wherein, among other compliments to her details, 
 he pays a unique one to her voice. He says it 
 ' fills the breast with fond alarms, echoed by every 
 rill.' It sounds well enough, but it is not true. 
 After the eulogy he takes up his real work, and the 
 novel begins. It begins in the woods, near the 
 village of Sunflower Hill. 
 
 'Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the 
 mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread their 
 beauty over the thick forest, to guide the hero 
 whose bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the 
 enemy that would tarnish his name and to win 
 back the admiration of his long-tried friend.' 
 
 It seems a general remark, but it is not 
 general ; the hero mentioned is the to-be hero of 
 the book ; and in this abrupt fashion, and without 
 name or description, he is shovelled into the tale. 
 'With aspirations to conquer the enemy that 
 would tarnish his name ' is merely a phrase flung 
 in for the sake of the sound— let it not mislead the 
 
 o 
 
82 
 
 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 reader. No one is trying to tarnish this person ; 
 no one has thought of it. The rest of the sentence 
 is also merely a phrase ; the man has no friend as 
 yet, and of course has had no chance to try him, 
 or win back his admiration, or disturb him in any 
 other way. 
 
 The hero climbs up over ' Sawney's Mountain,' 
 and down the other side, making for an old Indian 
 ' castle ' — which becomes ' the red man's hut ' in 
 the next sentence ; and when he gets there at last, 
 he ' surveys with wonder and astonishment ' the 
 invisible structure, ' which time had buried in the 
 dust ; and thought to himself his happiness was 
 not yet complete.' One doesn't know why it 
 wasn't, nor how near it came to being complete, 
 nor what was still wanting to round it up and 
 make it so. Maybe it was the Indian ; but the 
 book does not say. At this point we have an 
 episode : 
 
 ' Beside the shore of the brook sat a young 
 man, about eighteen or twenty, who seemed to be 
 reading some favourite book, and who had a 
 remarkably noble countenance — eyes which be- 
 trayed more than a common mind. This, of 
 course, made the youth a welcome guest, and 
 gained him friends in whatever condition of life he 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 83 
 
 might be placed. The traveller observed that he 
 was a well-built figure which showed strength and 
 grace in every movement. He accordingly ad- 
 dressed him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and 
 inquired of him the way to the village. After he 
 had received the desired information, and was 
 about taking his leave, the youth said, ''Are you 
 not Major Elfonzo, the great musician i— the 
 champion of a noble cause— the modern Achilles, 
 who gained so many victories in the Florida 
 War?" ''I bear that name," said the Major, 
 " and those titles, trusting at the same time that 
 the ministers of grace will carry me triumphantly 
 through all my laudable undertakings, and if," 
 continued the Major, " you, sir, are the patroniser 
 of noble deeds, I should like to make you my 
 confidant, and learn your address." The youth 
 looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for 
 a moment, and began : '' My name is Eoswell. I 
 have been recently admitted to the bar, and can 
 only give a faint outline of my future success in 
 that honourable profession ; but I trust, sir, like 
 the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon 
 the dwellings of man, and shall ever be ready to 
 
 > Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert on the 
 fiddle, and has a three-township fame. 
 
 » 2 
 
84- A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 give you any assistance in my official capacity, and 
 whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, when- 
 ever it shall be called from its buried greatness." 
 The Major grasped him by the hand, and ex- 
 claimed : 0 ! thou exalted spirit of inspiration — 
 thou flame of burning prosperity, may the Heaven- 
 directed blaze be the glare of thy soul, and battle 
 down every rampart that seems to impede your 
 progress ! " ' 
 
 There is a strange sort of originality about 
 McClintock; he imitates other people's styles, but 
 nobody can imitate his, not even an idiot. Other 
 people can be windy, but McClintock blows a gale ; 
 other people can blubber sentiment, but McClintock 
 spews it ; other people can mishandle metaphors, 
 but only McClintock knows how to make a business 
 of it. McClintock is always McClintock, he is 
 always consistent, his style is always his own stj'le. 
 He does not make the mistake of being relevant on 
 one page and irrelevant on another ; he is irrele- 
 vant on all of them. He does not make the mis- 
 take of being lucid in one place and obscure in 
 another ; he is obscure all the time. He does not 
 make the mistake of slipping in a name here and 
 there that is out of character with his work ; he 
 always uses names that exactly and fantastically 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 85 
 
 fit his lunatics. In the matter of undeviating 
 consistency he stands alone in authorship. It is 
 this that makes his style unique, and entitles it to a 
 name of its own— McClintocldan. It is this that 
 protects it from being mistaken for anybody 
 else's. 
 
 Uncredited quotations from other writers often 
 leave a reader in doubt as to their authorship, but 
 McClintock is safe from that accident; an un- 
 credited quotation from him would always be 
 recognisable. When a boy nineteen years old, 
 who had just been admitted to the bar, says, 'I 
 trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall look down from 
 lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man,' we know 
 who is speaking through that boy; we should 
 recognise that note anywhere. There be myriads 
 of instruments in this world's literary orchestra, 
 and a multitudinous confusion of sounds that they 
 make, wherein fiddles are drowned, and guitars 
 smothered, and one sort of drum mistaken for 
 another sort ; but whensoever the brazen note of 
 the McClintockian trombone breaks through that 
 fog of music, that note is recognisable, and about it 
 there can be no blur of doubt. 
 
 The novel now arrives at the point where the 
 Major goes home to see his father. When McClin- 
 
86 
 
 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 tock wrote this interview, he probabl}^ beHeved it 
 was pathetic. 
 
 *The road which led to the town presented 
 many attractions. Elfonzo had bid farewell to the 
 youth of deep feeling, and was now wending his 
 way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The 
 south winds whistled through the woods, as the 
 waters dashed against the banks, as rapid fire in 
 the pent furnace roars. This brought him to re- 
 member while alone that he quietly left behind the 
 hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered 
 the world, with higher hopes than are often realised. 
 But as he journeyed onward he was mindful of 
 the advice of his father, who had often looked 
 sadly on the ground, when tears of cruelly deceived 
 hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had been some- 
 what of a dutiful son, yet fond of the amusements 
 of life — had been in distant lands, had enjoyed the 
 pleasure of the world, and had frequently returned 
 to the scenes of his boyliood almost destitute of 
 many of the comforts of life. In this condition 
 he would frequently say to his father, ''Have I 
 offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, 
 and frown upon me with stinging looks ? "Will 
 you not favour me with the sound of your voice ? 
 If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 87 
 
 spread a humid veil of darkness around your ex- 
 pectations, send me back into the world, where no 
 heart beats for me— where the foot of man has 
 never yet trod; but give me at least one kind 
 ^Yord— allow me to come into the presence some- 
 times of thy winter-worn locks." Forbid it, 
 Heaven, that I should be angry with thee," 
 answered the father, my son, and yet I send thee 
 back to the children of the world— to the cold 
 charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I 
 read another destiny in thy countenance — I learn 
 tby inclinations from the flame that has already 
 kindled in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek 
 thee, my dear Elfonzo, it will find thee— thou canst 
 not escape that Kghted torch, which shall blot out 
 from the remembrance of men a long train of 
 prophecies which they have foretold against thee. 
 I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but 
 now the path of life is plain before me, and my 
 sight is clear ; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy worldly 
 occupation — take again in thy hand that chord of 
 sweet sounds — struggle with the civiHsed world, 
 and with your own heart ; fly swiftly to the en- 
 chanted ground— let the night-owl send forth its 
 screams from the stubborn oak— let the sea sport 
 upon the beach, and the stars sing together ; but 
 
88 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, and thy hiding- 
 place. Our most innocent as well as our most 
 lawful desires must often be denied us, that we 
 may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will." 
 
 * Eemembering such admonitions with gratitude, 
 Elfonzo was immediately urged by the recollection 
 of his father's family to keep moving.' 
 
 McClintock has a fine gift in the matter of sur- 
 prises ; but as a rule they are not pleasant ones, 
 they jar upon the feehngs. His closing sentence 
 in the last quotation is of that sort. It brings one 
 down out of the tinted clouds in too sudden and 
 collapsed a fashion. It incenses one against the 
 author for a moment. It makes the reader want 
 to take him by his winter-worn locks, and trample 
 on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold 
 charity of combat, and blot him out with his own 
 lighted torch. But the feeling does not last. The 
 master takes again in his hand that concord of 
 sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified. 
 
 * His steps became quicker and quicker— he 
 hastened through the piny woods, dark as the 
 forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the 
 little village of repose, in whose bosom rested the 
 boldest chivalry. His close attention to every 
 important object— his modest questions about 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 89 
 
 whatever was new to him— his reverence for wise 
 old age, and his ardent desire to learn many of the 
 fine arts, soon brought him into respectable notice. 
 
 * One mild winter day, as he walked along the 
 streets towards the Academy, which stood upon a 
 small eminence, surrounded by native growth — 
 some venerable in its appearance, others young 
 and prosperous— all seemed inviting, and seemed 
 to be the very place for learning as well as for 
 genius to spend its research beneath its spreading 
 shades. He entered its classic walls in the usual 
 mode of Southern manners.' 
 
 The artfulness of this man ! None knows so 
 well as he how to pique the curiosity of the reader 
 — and how to disappoint it. He raises the hope, 
 here, that he is going to tell all about how one 
 enters a classic wall in the usual mode of Southern 
 manners; but does he? No; he smiles in his 
 sleeve, and turns aside to other matters. 
 
 ' The principal of the Institution begged him 
 to be seated, and Hsten to the recitations that were 
 going on. He accordingly obeyed the request, and 
 seemed to be much pleased. After the school was 
 dismissed, and the young hearts regained their 
 freedom, with the songs of the evening, laughing 
 at the anticipated pleasures of a happy home, 
 
90 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 while others tittered at the actions of the past day, 
 he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a 
 resolution — with an undaunted mind. He said he 
 had determined to become a student, if he could 
 meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he, "I 
 have spent much time in the world. I have 
 travelled among the uncivilised inhabitants of 
 America. I have met with friends, and combated 
 with foes ; but none of these gratify my ambition, 
 or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the 
 learned world have an influence with the voice of 
 the people themselves. The despoilers of the 
 remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their differ- 
 ences to this class of persons. This the illiterate 
 and inexperienced little dream of ; and now, if you 
 will receive me as I am, with these deficiencies — 
 with all my misguided opinions, I will give you 
 my honour, sir, that I will never disgrace the 
 Institution or those who have placed you in this 
 honourable station." The instructor, who had 
 met with many disappointments, knew how to feel 
 for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the 
 charities of an unfeeling community. He looked 
 at him earnestly, and said : "Be of good cheer — 
 look forward, sir, to the high destination you may 
 attain. Eemember, the more elevated the mark 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 91 
 
 at which you ami, the moiu sure, the more 
 glorious, the more magnificent the prize." From 
 wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the 
 impatient Hstener. A strange nature bloomed 
 before him — giant streams promised him success- 
 gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. 
 All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new 
 witchery from his glowing fancy.' 
 
 It seems to me that this situation is new in 
 romance. I feel sure it has not been attempted 
 before. Military celebrities have been disguised 
 and set at lowly occupations for dramatic effect, 
 but I think McCHntock is the first to send one of 
 them to school. Thus, in this book, you pass from 
 wonder to wonder, through gardens of hidden 
 treasure, where giant streams bloom before you, 
 and behind you, and all around, and you feel as 
 happy, and groggy, and satisfied, with your quart 
 of mixed metaphor aboard, as you would if it had 
 been mixed in a sample-room, and delivered from 
 a jug. 
 
 Now we come upon some more McClintockian 
 surprises— a sweetheart who is sprung upon us 
 without any preparation, along with a name for 
 her which is even a Httle more of a surprise than 
 she herself is. 
 
92 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 * In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid 
 progress in the English and Latin departments. 
 Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity 
 that he was like to become the first in his class, 
 and made such unexpected progress, and was so 
 studious, that he had almost forgotten the pictured 
 saint of his affections. The fresh wreaths of the 
 pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop 
 once more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of 
 those who had so often poured forth the tender 
 emotions of their souls under its boughs. He was 
 aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So 
 one evening, as he was returning from his reading, 
 he concluded he would pay a visit to this en- 
 chanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing 
 a shadow of his former happiness, though no 
 doubt he wished it might be so. He continued 
 sauntering by the road- side, meditating on the 
 past. The nearer he approached the spot, the 
 more anxious he became. At that moment a tall 
 female figure flitted across his path, with a bunch 
 of roses in her hand; her countenance showed 
 uncommon vivacity, with a resolute spirit ; her 
 ivory teeth already appeared as she smiled beauti- 
 fully, promenading, while her ringlets of haii- 
 dangled unconsciously around her snowy neck. 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 93 
 
 Nothing was wanting to complete her beauty. 
 
 The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her 
 
 cheek; the charms of sensibility and tenderness 
 
 were always her associates. In Ambulinia's bosom 
 
 dwelt a noble soul— one that never faded— one that 
 
 never was conquered.' 
 
 Ambulinia! It can hardly be matched in 
 
 fiction. The full name is Ambulinia Valeer. 
 
 Marriage will presently round it out and perfect it. 
 
 Then it will be Mrs. AmbuUnia Valeer Elfonzo. It 
 
 takes the chromo. 
 
 * Her heart yielded to no feeling but the love of 
 Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight, 
 and to whom she felt herself more closely bound, 
 because he sought the hand of no other. Elfonzo 
 was roused from his apparent reverie. His books 
 no longer were his inseparable companions — his 
 thoughts arrayed themselves to encourage him to 
 the field of victory. He endeavoured to speak to 
 his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared 
 not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire 
 that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration 
 and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia 
 had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his 
 duty. As she walked speedily away through the 
 piny woods she calmly echoed : 0 ! Elfonzo, 
 
94 
 
 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 thou wilt now look from thy sunbeams. Thou 
 shalt now walk in a new path — perhaps thy way 
 leads through darkness ; but fear not, the stars 
 foretell happiness." ' 
 
 To McClintock that jingling jumble of fine words 
 meant something, no doubt, or seemed to mean 
 something ; but it is useless for us to try to divine 
 what it was. Ambulinia comes — we don't know 
 whence nor why ; she mysteriously intimates — we 
 don't know what ; and then she goes echoing away 
 — we don't know whither; and down comes the 
 curtain. McClintock's art is subtle ; McClintock's 
 art is deep. 
 
 ' Not many days afterwards, as surrounded by 
 fragrant flowers, she sat one evening at twihght 
 to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered notes of 
 melody along the distant groves, the little birds 
 perched on every side, as if to watch the move- 
 ments of their new visitor. The bells were tolHng, 
 when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood 
 flowers, holding in his hand his favourite instru- 
 ment of music — his eye continually searching for 
 Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him as 
 she played carelessly with the songsters that hopped 
 from branch to branch. Nothing could be more 
 striking than the difference between the two. 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 95 
 
 Nature seemed to have given the more tender soul 
 to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous 
 to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes 
 of Elfonzo — such a feeling as can only be ex- 
 pressed by those who are blessed as admirers, and 
 by those who are able to return the same with 
 sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than 
 Ambulinia : she had turned a little into her seven- 
 teenth. He had almost grown up in the Cherokee 
 country, with the same equal proportions as one 
 of the natives. But little intimacy had existed 
 between them until the year forty-one — because the 
 youth felt that the character of such a lovely girl 
 w^as too exalted to inspire any other feeling than 
 that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not 
 always be insulted, at all times and under all 
 circumstances, by the frowns and cold looks of 
 crabbed old age, which should continually reflect 
 dignity upon those around, and treat the unfor- 
 tunate as well as the fortunate with a graceful 
 mien, he continued to use diligence and perseve- 
 rance. 
 
 'All this lighted a spark in his heart that 
 changed bis whole character, and, like the unyield- 
 ing Deity that follows the storm to check its rage in 
 the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off 
 
96 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 his embarrassment, and return where he had before 
 only worshipped.' 
 
 At last we begin to get the Major's measure. We 
 are able to put this and that casual fact together, 
 and build the man up before our eyes, and look at 
 him. And after we have got him built, we find him 
 worth the trouble. By the above comparison 
 between his age and Ambulinia's, we guess the 
 war-worn veteran to be twenty-two ; and the other 
 facts stand thus : he had grown up in the Cherokee 
 country with the same equal proportions as one of 
 the natives — how flowing and graceful the language, 
 and yet how tantalising as to meaning ! — he had 
 been turned adrift by his father, to whom he had 
 been ' somewhat of a dutiful son ' ; he wandered m 
 distant lands ; came back frequently ' to the scenes 
 of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the 
 comforts of life,' in order to get into the presence of 
 his father's winter-worn locks, and spread a humid 
 veil of darkness around his expectations ; but he was 
 always promptly sent back to the cold charity of the 
 combat again ; he learned to play the fiddle, and 
 made a name for himself in that line ; he had 
 dwelt among the wild tribes ; he had philosophised 
 about the despbJlers of the kingdoms of the earth, 
 and found out — the cunning creature — that they 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 97 
 
 refer their differences to the learned for settlement ; 
 he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain, 
 the Achilles of the Florida campaigns, and then had 
 got him a spelling-book and started to school ; he 
 had fallen in love with Ambulinia Valeer while she 
 was teething, but had kept it to himself awhile, out 
 of the reverential awe which he felt for the child ; 
 but now at last, like the unyielding deity who 
 follows the storm to check its rage in the forest, he 
 resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to 
 return where before he had only worshipped. The 
 Major, indeed, has made up his mind to rise up 
 and shake his faculties together, and to see if he 
 can't do that thing himself. This is not clear. 
 But no matter about that : there stands the hero, 
 compact and visible ; and he is no mean structure, 
 considering that his creator had never created 
 anything before, and hadn't anything but rags and 
 wind to build with this time. It seems to me that 
 no one can contemplate this odd creature, this 
 quaint and curious blatherskite, without admiring 
 McClintock, or, at any rate, loving him and feeling 
 grateful to him; for McClintock made him; 
 he gave him to us ; without McClintock we 
 could not have had him, and would now be 
 poor. 
 
 H 
 
9^ A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 But we must come to the feast again. Here is 
 a courtship scene, down there in the romantic 
 glades among the raccoons, alligators, and things, 
 that has merit, peculiar literary merit. See how 
 Achilles wooes. Dwell upon the second sentence 
 (particularly the close of it), and the beginning of 
 the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos, 
 who is intruded upon us unheralded and unex- 
 plained. That is McClintock's way ; it is his habit ; 
 it is a part of his genius ; he cannot help it ; he 
 never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make 
 introductions : 
 
 *It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating 
 eye that he sought an interview with her, which 
 she as anxiously avoided, and assumed a more dis- 
 tant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all 
 hope. After many efforts and struggles with his 
 own person, with timid steps the Major approached 
 the damsel, with the same caution as he would have 
 done in a field of battle. Lady Ambulinia," said 
 he, trembling, *^ I have long desired a moment like 
 this. I dare not let it escape. I fear the conse- 
 quences ; yet I hope your indulgence will at least 
 hear my petition. Can you not anticipate what I 
 would say, and what I am about to express ? Will 
 you not, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 99 
 
 of Jupiter, release me from thy winding chains or 
 
 cure me " " Say no more, Elfonzo," answered 
 
 Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand as 
 if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the 
 whole world; another lady in my place would 
 have perhaps answered your question in bitter cold- 
 ness. I know not the little arts of my sex. I care 
 but little for the vanity of those who would chide 
 me, and am unwilling as well as ashamed to be 
 guilty of anything that would lead you to think * all 
 is not gold that glitters ' ; so be not rash in your 
 resolution. It is better to repent now, than to do 
 it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you 
 would say. I know you have a costly gift for me— 
 the noblest that man can make — your heart ! You 
 should not offer it to one so unworthy. Heaven, 
 you know, has allowed my father's house to be made 
 a house of solitude, a home of silent obedience, 
 which my parents say is more to be admired than 
 big names and high-sounding titles. Notwithstand- 
 ing all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest 
 heart — allow me to say in the fulness of my hopes 
 that I anticipate better days. The bird may stretch 
 its wings towards the sun which it can never reach ; 
 and flowers of the field appear to a.scend in the same 
 direction, because they cannot do otherwise : but 
 
 H 2 
 
TOO A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 man confides his complaints to the saints in whom 
 he beheves ; for in their abodes of hght they know 
 no more sorrow. From your confession and in- 
 dicative looks, I must be that person : if so, deceive 
 not yourself." 
 
 ' Elfonzo replied, " Pardon me, my dear madam, 
 for my frankness. I have loved you from my 
 earliest days — everything grand and beautiful hath 
 borne the image of Ambulinia : while precipices on 
 every hand surrounded me, your guardian angel 
 stood and beckoned me away from the deep abyss. 
 In every trial— in every misfortune, I have met 
 with your helping hand ; yet I never dreamed or 
 dared to cherish thy love, till a voice impaired with 
 age encouraged the cause, and declared they who 
 acquired thy favour should win a victory. I saw 
 how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthi- 
 ness. I began to know jealousy, a strong guest 
 indeed, in my bosom, yet I could see if I gained 
 your admiration, Leos was to be my rival. I was 
 aware that he had the influence of 3'our parents, 
 and the wealth of a deceased relative, which is too 
 often mistaken for permanent and regular tran- 
 quillity ; yet I have determined by your permission 
 to beg an interest in your prayers — to ask you to 
 animate my drooping spirits by your smiles and 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES loi 
 
 your winning looks ; for, if you but speak, I shall 
 be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus 
 shakes. And though earth and sea may tremble, 
 and the charioteer of the sun may forget his dash- 
 ing steed ; yet I am assured that it is only to arm 
 me with divine weapons, which will enable me to 
 complete my long-tried intention." ''Return to 
 yourself, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly, ''a 
 dream of vision has disturbed your intellect— you 
 are above the atmosphere, dwelling in the celestial 
 regions, nothing is there that urges or hinders, 
 nothing that brings discord into our present litiga- 
 tion. I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a 
 man, and forget it all. When Homer describes the 
 battle of the gods and noble men, fighting with 
 giants and dragons, they represent under this image 
 our struggles with the delusions of our passions. 
 You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, to the 
 skies ; you have called me a saint, and portrayed 
 in your imagination an angel in human form. 
 Let her remain such to you— let her continue to 
 be as you have supposed, and be assured that she 
 will consider a share in your esteem as her highest 
 treasure. Think not that I would allure you from 
 the path in which your conscience leads you ; for 
 you know I respect the conscience of others, as I 
 
I02 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of 
 thy love, let such conversation never again pass 
 between us. Go, seek a nobler theme ! we will seek 
 it in the stream of time as the sunset in the 
 Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped 
 the hand of Elfonzo, saying at the same time— 
 " Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero : 
 be up and doing." Closing her remarks with 
 this expression, she walked slowly away, leaving 
 Elfonzo astonished and amazed. He ventured 
 not to follow, or detain her. Here he stood alone, 
 gazing at the stars— confounded as he was, here 
 he stood.' 
 
 Yes; there he stood. There seems to be no 
 doubt about that. Nearly half of this delirious 
 story has now been delivered to the reader. It 
 seems a pity to reduce the other half to a cold 
 synopsis. Pity! it is more than a pity, it is a 
 crime ; for, to synopsise McClintock is to reduce a 
 sky-flushing conflagration to dull embers, it is to 
 reduce barbaric splendour to ragged poverty. 
 McClintock never wrote a line that was not pre- 
 cious ; he never wrote one that could be ^spared ; 
 he never framed one from which a word could be 
 removed without damage. Every sentence that 
 this master has produced may be likened to a 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 103 
 
 perfect set of teeth— white, uniform, beautiful. If 
 you pull one, the charm is gone. Still, it is now 
 necessary to begin to pull, and to keep it up ; for 
 lack of space requires us to synopsise. 
 
 We left Elfonzo standing there, amazed. At 
 what, we do not know. Not at the girl's speech. 
 No ; we ourselves should have been amazed at it, 
 of course, for none of us has ever heard anything 
 resembling it: but Elfonzo was used to speeches 
 made up of noise and vacancy, and could listen to 
 them with undaunted mind like the Hopmost topaz 
 of an ancient tower ' ; he was used to making them 
 himself; he— but let it go, it cannot be guessed 
 out ; we shall never know what it was that aston- 
 ished him. He stood there awhile ; then he said, 
 * Alas ! am I now Grief's disappointed son at last.' 
 He did not stop to examine his mind, and to try to 
 find out what he probably meant by that, because, 
 for one reason, * a mixture of ambition and great- 
 ness of soul moved upon his young heart,' and 
 started him for the village. He resumed his bench 
 in school, ' and reasonably progressed in his educa- 
 tion.' His heart was heavy, but he went into 
 society, and sought surcease of sorrow in its Hght 
 distractions. He made himself popular with his 
 violin, * which seemed to have a thousand chords — 
 
I04 
 
 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 more symphonious than the Muses of Apollo, and 
 more enchanting than the ghost of the Hills/ 
 This is obscure, but let it go. 
 
 During this interval Leos did some unencour- 
 aged courting, but at last, ' choked by his under- 
 taking,' he desisted. 
 
 Presently ' Elfonzo again \Yends his way to the 
 stately walls and new-built village.' He goes to 
 the house of his beloved ; she opens the door her- 
 self. To my surprise — for Ambulinia's heart had 
 still seemed free at the time of their last interview 
 — love beamed from the girl's eyes. One sees that 
 Elfonzo w^as surprised, too; for when he caught 
 that light 'a halloo of smothered shouts ran 
 through every vein.' A neat figure— a very neat 
 figure, indeed ! Then he kissed her. ' The scene 
 was overwhelming.' They went into the parlour. 
 The girl said it was safe, for her parents were abed 
 and would never know. Then we have this fine 
 picture — flung upon the canvas with hardly an 
 effort, as you will notice. 
 
 * Advancing towards him she gave a bright dis- 
 play of her rosy neck, and from her head the 
 ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; her 
 robe hung wwing to his view, while she stood like 
 a goddess confessed before him.' 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 105 
 There is nothing of interest in the couple's 
 interview. Now, at this point the girl invites 
 Elfonzo to a village show, where jealousy is the 
 motive of the play, for she wants to teach him a 
 wholesome lesson if he is a jealous person. But 
 this is a sham, and pretty shallow. McClintock 
 merely wants a pretext to drag in a plagiarism ol 
 his upon a scene or two in ' Othello.' 
 
 The lovers went to the play. Elfonzo was one 
 of the fiddlers. He and Ambulinia must not be 
 seen together, lest trouble follow with the girl's 
 malignant father ; we are made to understand that 
 clearly. So the two sit together in the orchestra, 
 in the midst of the musicians. This does not seem 
 to be good art. In the first place, the girl would 
 be in the way, for orchestras are always packed 
 closely together, and there is no room to spare for 
 people's girls; in the next place, one cannot con- 
 ceal a girl in an orchestra without everybody taking 
 notice of it. There can be no doubt, it seems to 
 me, that this is bad art. 
 
 Leos is present. Of course one of the first 
 things that catches his eye is the maddening spec- 
 tacle of Ambulinia ' leaning upon Elfonzo's chair.' 
 This poor girl does not seem to understand even 
 the rudiments of concealment. But she is ' in her 
 
io6 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 seventeenth,' as the author phrases it, and that is 
 her justification. 
 
 Leos meditates, constructs a plan — with per- 
 sonal violence as a basis, of course. It was their 
 way, down there. It is a good plain plan, without 
 any imagination in it. He will go out and stand 
 at the front door, and when these two come out he 
 will 'arrest Ambulinia from the hands of the 
 insolent Elfonzo,' and thus make for himself a 
 'more prosperous field of immortality than ever 
 was decreed by Omnipotence, or ever pencil drew, 
 or artist imagined.' But, dear me, while he is 
 waiting there the couple climb out at the back 
 window and scurry home ! This is romantic 
 enough, but there is a lack of dignity in the 
 situation. 
 
 At this point McClintock puts in the whole of 
 his curious play — which we skip. 
 
 Some correspondence follows now. The bitter 
 father and the distressed lovers write the letters. 
 Elopements are attempted. They are idiotically 
 planned, and they fail. Then we have several 
 pages of romantic powwow and confusion signi- 
 fying nothing. Another elopement is planned ; it 
 is to take place on Sunday, when everybody is at 
 church. But the ' hero ' cannot keep the secret ; 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 107 
 
 he tells everybody. Another author would have 
 found another instrument when he decided to 
 defeat this elopement ; but that is not McClintock's 
 tvay. He uses the person that is nearest at 
 hand. 
 
 The evasion failed, of course. Ambulinia, in 
 her flight, takes refuge in a neighbour's house. 
 Her father drags her home. The villagers gather, 
 attracted by the racket. 
 
 ' "Blfonzo was moved at this sight. The people 
 followed on to see what was going to become of 
 Ambulinia, while he, with downcast looks, kept at 
 a distance, until he saw them enter the abode of 
 the father, thrusting her, that was the sigh of his 
 soul, out of his presence into a solitary apartment, 
 when she exclaimed, ^'Elfonzo! Elfonzo ! oh! 
 Elfonzo! where art thou, with all thy heroes? 
 haste, oh ! haste, come thou to my relief. Eide on 
 the wings of the wind ! Turn thy force loose like 
 a tempest, and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, 
 over this mountain of trouble' and confusion. Oh, 
 friends ! if any pity me, let your last efforts throng 
 upon the green hills, and come to the relief of 
 Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing but innocent 
 love." Elfonzo called out with a loud voice, My 
 God, can I stand this ! arouse up, I beseech you, 
 
io8 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 and put an end to this tyranny. Come, my brave 
 boys," said he, are you ready to go forth to your 
 duty ? " They stood around him. Who," said he, 
 will call us to arms ? Where are my thunderbolts 
 of war ? Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe ! 
 Who will go forth with me in this ocean of grievous 
 temptation ? If there is one who desires to go, let 
 him come and shake hands upon the altar of devo- 
 tion, and swear that he will be a hero ; yes, a 
 Hector in a cause like this, which calls aloud for a 
 speedy remedy." " Mine be the deed," said a young 
 lawyer, " and mine alone ; Venus alone shall quit 
 her station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of 
 my promise to you ; what is death to me ? what is 
 all this warlike army, if it is not to win a victory ? 
 I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty ; nor 
 would I give it over till the blood of my enemies 
 should wreak with that of my own. But God 
 forbid that our fame should soar on the blood of 
 the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door 
 with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his 
 dangerous weapon^ ready to strike the first man 
 who should enter his door. Who will arise and 
 go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue 
 of my Ambulinia ? " said Elfonzo. All," exclaimed 
 
 ' It is a crowbar. 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES 109 
 
 the multitude ; and onward they went, with their 
 implements of battle. Others, of a more timid 
 nature, stood among the distant hills to see the re- 
 sult of the contest.' 
 
 It will hardly be believed that after all this 
 thunder and lightning not a drop of rain fell ; but 
 such is the fact. Elfonzo and his gang stood up 
 and blackguarded Mr. Yaleer with vigour all night, 
 getting their outlay back with interest ; then in 
 the early morning the army and its general retired 
 from the field, leaving the victory with their soH- 
 tary adversary and his crowbar. This is the first 
 time this has happened in romantic literature. 
 The invention is original. Everything in this 
 book is original ; there is nothing hackneyed about 
 it anywhere. Always, in other romances, when 
 you find the author leading up to a climax, you 
 know what is going to happen. But in this book 
 it is different; the thing which seems inevitable 
 and unavoidable never happens; it is circumvented 
 by the art of the author every time. 
 
 Another elopement was attempted. It failed. 
 We have now arrived at the end. But it is not 
 exciting. McClintock thinks it is ; but it isn't. 
 One day Elfonzo sends Ambulinia another note— a 
 note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the 
 
no A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 plan is admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, 
 imaginative, deep— oh, everything, and perfectly 
 easy. One wonders why it was never thought of 
 before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to 
 leave the breakfast table, ostensibly to ' attend to 
 the placing of those flowers, which ought to have 
 been done a week ago ' — artificial ones, of course ; 
 the others wouldn't keep so long — and then, in- 
 stead of fixing the flowers, she is to walk out to 
 the grove, and go off with Elfonzo. The invention 
 of this plan overstrained the author, that is plain, 
 for he straightway shows failing powers. The 
 details of the plan are not many or elaborate. 
 The author shall state them himself— this good 
 soul, whose intentions are always better than his 
 English : 
 
 *''You walk carelessly towards the academy 
 grove, where you will find me with a lightning 
 steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where we 
 shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial 
 rights." ' 
 
 Last scene of all, which the author, now much 
 enfeebled, tries to smarten up and make acceptable 
 to his spectacular heart by introducing some new 
 properties— silver bow, golden harp, olive branch, 
 — things that can all come good in an elopement. 
 
A CURE FOR THE BLUES in 
 
 no doubt, yet are not to be compared to an 
 umbrella for real handiness and reliability in an 
 excursion of that kind. 
 
 <And away she ran to the sacred grove, sur- 
 rounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her 
 coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and 
 his golden harp. They meet— Ambulinia's counte- 
 nance brightens— Elfonzo leads up his winged 
 steed. ''Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, ye 
 fearless soul— the day is ours." She sprang upon 
 the back of the young thunderbolt ; a briUiant star 
 sparkles upon her head, with one hand she grasps 
 the reins, and with the other she holds an olive 
 branch. Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they 
 exclaimed, ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host 
 of heaven, witness the enemy conquered." ''Hold," 
 said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." "Eide on," 
 said Ambulinia, " the voice of thunder is behind 
 us." And onward they went with such rapidity 
 that they very soon arrived at Eural Eetreat, 
 where they dismounted, and were united with all 
 the solemnities that usually attend such divine 
 operations.' 
 
 There is but one Homer, there was but one 
 Shakspeare, there is but one McClintock— and his 
 immortal book is before you. Homer could not 
 
TI2 A CURE FOR THE BLUES 
 
 have written this book, Shakspeare could not have 
 written it, I could not have done it myself. There 
 is nothing just like it in the literature of any 
 country or of any epoch. It stands alone, it is 
 monumental. It adds G. Eagsdale McClintock's 
 to the sum of the republic's imperishable names. 
 
THE 
 
 CURIOUS BOOK 
 
 COMPLETE 
 
 [The foregoing review of the great work of G. Eagsdale 
 McClintock is liberally illuminated with sample extracts, but these 
 cannot appease the appetite. Only the complete book, unabridged, 
 can do that. Therefore it is here printed.— M. T.] 
 
 I 
 
114 THE ENEMY CONQUERED i 
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; OR, LOVE 
 TRIUMPHANT 
 
 Sweet girl, thy smiles are full of charms, 
 
 Thy voice is sweeter still, 
 It fills the breast with fond alarms, 
 
 Echoed by every rill. 
 
 I BEGIN this little work with an eulogy upon woman, 
 who has ever been distinguished for her persever- 
 ance, her constancy, and her devoted attention to 
 those upon whom she has been pleased to place 
 her affections. Many have been the themes upon 
 which writers and public speakers have dwelt with 
 intense and increasing interest. Among these 
 delightful themes stands that of woman, the balm 
 to all our sighs and disaj)pointments, and the most 
 pre-eminent of all other topics. Here the poet and 
 orator have stood and gazed with wonder and with 
 admiration ; they have dwelt upon her innocence, 
 the ornament of all her virtues. First viewing 
 her external charms, such as are set forth in her 
 form and her benevolent countenance, and then 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT nS 
 
 passing to the deep hidden springs of loveliness 
 and disinterested devotion. In every clime, and 
 in every age, she has been the pride of her nation. 
 Her watchfulness is untiring; she who guarded 
 the sepulchre was the first to approach it, and the 
 last to depart from its awful yet sublime scene. 
 Even here, in this highly-favoured land, we look to 
 her for the security of our institutions, and for our 
 future greatness as a nation. But, strange as it 
 may appear, woman's charms and virtues are but 
 shghtly appreciated by thousands. Those who 
 should raise the standard of female worth, and 
 paint her value with her virtues, in living colours, 
 upon the banners that are fanned by the zephyrs 
 of heaven, and hand them down to posterity as 
 emblematical of a rich inheritance, do not properly 
 estimate them. 
 
 Man is not sensible, at all times, of the nature 
 and the emotions which bear that name ; he does 
 not understand, he will not comprehend; his 
 intelligence has not expanded to that degree of 
 glory which drinks in the vast revolution of 
 humanity, its end, its mighty destination, and the 
 causes which operated, and are still operating, to 
 produce a more elevated station, and the objects 
 which energise and enliven its consummation. 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 THE ENEMY CONQUERED) 
 
 This he is a stranger to ; he is not aware that 
 woman is the recipient of celestial love, and that 
 man is dependent upon her to perfect his charac- 
 ter; that without her, philosophically and truly 
 speaking, the brightest of his intelligence is but the 
 coldness of a winter moon, whose beams can pro- 
 duce no fruit, whose solar light is not its own, but 
 borrowed from the great dispenser of effulgent 
 beauty. We have no disposition in the world to 
 flatter the fair sex ; we would raise them above 
 those dastardly principles which only exist in little 
 souls, contracted hearts, and a distracted brain. 
 Often does she unfold herself in all her fascinating 
 loveliness, presenting the most captivating charms ; 
 yet we find man frequently treats such purity of 
 purpose with indifference. Why does he do it ? 
 Why does he bafHe that which is inevitably the 
 source of his better days? Is he so much of 
 a stranger to those excellent qualities, as not to 
 appreciate woman, as not to have respect to her 
 dignity ? Since her art and beauty first captivated 
 man, she has been his delight and his comfort ; 
 she has shared alike in his misfortunes and in his 
 prosperity. 
 
 Whenever the billows of adversity and the 
 tumultuous waves of trouble beat high, her smiles 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 1I7 
 
 Bubdue their fury. Should the tear of sorrow and 
 the mournful sigh of grief interrupt the peace 
 of his mind, her voice removes them all, and 
 she bends from her circle to encourage him onward. 
 When darkness would obscure his mind, and a 
 thick cloud of gloom would bewilder its operations, 
 her intelligent eye darts a ray of streaming light 
 into his heart. Mighty and charming is that 
 disinterested devotion which she is ever ready to 
 exercise towards man, not waiting till the last 
 moment of his danger, but seeks to relieve him in 
 his early afflictions. It gushes forth from the 
 expansive fulness of a tender and devoted heart, 
 where the noblest, the purest, and the most ele- 
 vated and refined feelings are matured, and deve- 
 loped in those many kind offices which invariably 
 make her character. 
 
 In the room of sorrow and sickness, this un- 
 equalled characteristic may always be seen, in the 
 performance of the most charitable acts ; nothing 
 that she can do to promote the happiness of him 
 who she claims to be her protector will be omitted ; 
 all is invigorated by the animating sunbeams which 
 awaken the heart to songs of gaiety. Leaving this 
 point, to notice another prominent consideration, 
 which is generally one of great moment and of vital 
 
ii8 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 importance. Invariably she is firm and steady in 
 all her pursuits and aims. There is required a 
 combination of forces and extreme opposition to 
 drive her from her position ; she takes her stand, 
 not to be moved by the sound of Apollo's lyre, or 
 the curved bow of pleasure. 
 
 Firm and true to what she undertakes, and 
 that which she requires by her own aggrandise- 
 ment, and regards as being within the strict rules 
 of propriety, she will remain stable and unflinching 
 to the last. A more genuine principle is not to be 
 found in the most determined, resolute heart of 
 man. For this she deserves to be held in the 
 highest commendation, for this she deserves the 
 purest of all other blessings, and for this she 
 deserves the most laudable reward of all others. 
 It is a noble characteristic, and is worthy the 
 imitation of any age. And when we look at it in 
 one particular aspect, it is still magnified, and 
 grows brighter and brighter the more we reflect 
 upon its eternal duration. What will she not do, 
 when her word as well as her affections and love are 
 pledged to her lover ? Everything that is dear to 
 her on earth, all the hospitahties of kind and lovmg 
 parents, all the sincerity and loveliness of sisters, 
 and the benevolent devotion of brothers, who have 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT "9 
 Surrounded her with every comfort ; she will forBake 
 them all, quit the harmony and sweet sound of the 
 Land the harp. a.d throw hersef upon th 
 
 affections of some devoted ^d^;-' ^J^^ 
 fondly hopes to find more than she has left behmd 
 thich is not often realised by many. Truth and 
 virtue all combined! How deserving our admi- 
 ration and love ! Ahlcruelwoulditbemman 
 after she has thus manifested such an unshaken 
 nfidence in him, and said by her determmatron 
 Abandon all the endearments and "shmen 
 of home, to act a villainous part and ^laitor 
 in the revolution of his mission, and then turn 
 Hector over the innocent victim whom he swore to 
 protect, in the presence of Heaven, recorded by the 
 
 ^^\t:r:TstHs trait may unfold itself in her 
 character, and as pre-eminent as it may stand 
 tong the fair display of her other qualities, yet 
 Ce is another, which struggles into existence, 
 adds an additional lustre to what she already 
 possesses. I mean that disposition _ in woman 
 ;Hch enables her, in sorrow m ^^^^ 
 distress, to bear all with endurmg patien e. This 
 lets done, and can and will do, amid the dm o 
 wTr and clash of arms. Scenes and occurrences 
 
I20 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 which, to every appearance, are calculated to rend 
 the heart with the profoundeBt emotions of trouble, 
 do not fetter that exalted principle imbued in her 
 very nature. It is true, her tender and feeling 
 heart may often be moved (as she is thus consti- 
 tuted), but still she is not conquered, she has not 
 given up to the harlequin of disappointments, her 
 energies have not become clouded in the last 
 moment of misfortune, but she is continually in- 
 vigorated by the archetype of her affections. She 
 may bury her face in her hands, and let the tear of 
 anguish roll, she may promenade the delightful 
 walks of some garden, decorated with all the 
 flowers of nature, or she may steal out along some 
 gently rippling stream, and there, as the silver 
 waters uninterruptedly move forward, sheds her 
 silent tears, they mingle with the waves, and take 
 a last farewell of their agitated home, to seek a 
 peaceful dwelling among the rolling floods ; yet 
 there is a voice rushing from her breast, that pro- 
 claims victory along the whole line and battlement 
 of her affections. That voice is the voice of 
 patience and resignation ; that voice is one that 
 bears everything calmly and dispassionately ; amid 
 the most distressing scenes, when the fates are 
 arrayed against her peace, and apparently plotting 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT i^-' 
 for her destruction, still she is resigned. Woman's 
 affections are deep, consequently her troubles may 
 be made to sink deep. Although you may not b 
 able to mark the traces of her grief and the 
 furrowings of her anguish upon her — g 
 countenance, yet be assured they are neverthel^ 
 preying upon her inward person, sappmg the 
 Ly foundation of that heart which alone was 
 niade for the weal and not the woe of man. The 
 deep recesses of the soul are fields for their opera- 
 tion. But they are not destined sxmply to ake 
 the regions of the heart for their dominion they 
 are not satisfied merely with interrupting her better 
 feelings ; but after a while you may see the bloom- 
 ing cheek beginning to droop and fade, her mtelli- 
 gent .ye no longer sparkles with the starry hght of 
 heaven, her vibrating pulse long since changed i s 
 regular motion, and her palpitating bosom bea s 
 once more for the mid-day of her glory. Anxie^ 
 and care ultimately throw her into the arms of the 
 haggard and grim monster, Death. But, oh how 
 patient, under every pining mfluence! Let us 
 view the matter in bolder colours; see her when 
 the dearest object of her affections recklessly seeks 
 every bacchanalian pleasure, contents himself mth 
 the last rubbish of creation. With what solicitude 
 
122 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 she awaits his return ! Sleep fails to perform its 
 office — she weeps while the nocturnal shades of the 
 night triumph in the stillness. Bending over some 
 favourite book, whilst the author throws before her 
 mind the most beautiful imagery, she startles at 
 every sound. The midnight silence is broken by 
 the solemn announcement of the return of another 
 morning. He is still absent : she listens for that 
 voice which has so often been greeted by the 
 melodies of her own ; but, alas ! stern silence is all 
 that she receives for her vigilance. 
 
 Mark her unwearied watchfulness, as the night 
 passes away. At last, brutalised by the accursed 
 thing, he staggers along with rage, and, shivering 
 with cold, he makes his appearance. Not a mur- 
 mur is heard from her lips. On the contrary, she 
 meets him with a smile — she caresses him with 
 her tender arms, with all the gentleness and soft- 
 ness of her sex. Here, then, is seen her disposition, 
 beautifully arrayed. Woman, thou art more to be 
 admired than the spicy gales of Arabia, and more 
 sought for than the gold of Golconda. We believe 
 that woman should associate freely with man, 
 and we believe that it is for the preservation of 
 her rights. She should become acquainted with 
 the metaphysical designs of those who condescend 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 123 
 
 to sing the siren song of flattery. This, we think, 
 should he according to the unwritten law of 
 decorum, which is stamped upon every innocent 
 heart. The precepts of prudery are often steeped 
 in the guilt of contamination, which hlasts the 
 expectations of better moments. Truth, and beau- 
 tiful dreams— loveliness, and delicacy of character, 
 with cherished affections of the ideal woman- 
 gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold 
 her in the storms of darkness, without the trans- 
 ferred colourings of a stained sufferer. How often 
 have we seen it in our puUic prints, that woman 
 occupies a false station in the world! and some 
 have gone so far as to say it was an unnatural 
 one. So long has she been regarded a weak crea- 
 ture, by the rabble and iUiterate-they have looked 
 upon her as an insufficient actress on the great 
 stage of human life— a mere puppet, to fill up the 
 drama of human existence-a thoughtless inactive 
 being,-that she has too often come to the same 
 conclusion herself, and has sometimes forgotten her 
 high destination, in the meridian of her glory. We 
 have but little sympathy or patience for those who 
 treat her as a mere Eosy Melinda-who are always 
 fishing for pretty compliments -who are satisfied 
 by the gossamer of romance, and who can be 
 
124 THE ENEMY CONQUERED \ 
 
 allured by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich 
 
 in language, but poor and barren in sentiment. 
 
 Beset, as she has been, by the intellectual vulgar, 
 
 the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden, 
 
 and the artful— no wonder she has sometimes folded 
 
 her wings in despair, and forgotten her heavenly 
 
 mission in the delirium of imagination ; no wonder 
 
 she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful 
 
 home. But this cannot always continue. A new 
 
 era is moving gently onward, old things are rapidly 
 
 passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices, 
 
 and old notions are now bidding farewell to their 
 
 old associates and companions, and giving way to 
 
 one whose wings are plumed with the Hght of heaven, 
 
 and tinged by the dews of the morning. There is 
 
 a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite 
 
 of all evil influence— there is enough of the Divine 
 
 Master left, to accomplish the noblest work ever 
 
 achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies ; 
 
 and that time is fast approaching, when the picture 
 
 of the true woman will shine from its frame of 
 
 glory, to captivate, to win back, to restore, and to 
 
 call into being once more, the object of her mission. 
 
 Star of the brave ! thy glory shed, 
 
 O'er all the earth, thy army led— 
 
 Bold meteor of immortal birth 1 
 
 Why come from Heaven to dwell on earth ? 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 Mighty and glorious are the days of youth; 
 happy the moments of the lover, mingled with 
 smiles and tears of his devoted, and long to be 
 remembered are the achievements which he gains 
 with a palpitating heart and a trembling hand. A 
 bright and lovely dawn, the harbinger of a fair and 
 prosperous day, had arisen over the beautiful little 
 village of Gumming, which is surrounded by the 
 most romantic scenery in the Cherokee country. 
 Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of 
 the fair Chattahoochee, to spread their beauty over 
 the thick forest, to guide the hero whose bosom 
 beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that 
 would tarnish his name, and to win back the admi- 
 ration of his long-tried friend. He endeavoured to 
 make his way through Sawney's Mountain, where 
 many meet to catch the gales that are continually 
 blowing for the refreshment of the stranger and the 
 traveller. Surrounded as he was, by hills on every 
 side, naked rocks dared the efforts of his energies. 
 Soon the sky became overcast, the sun buried itself 
 in the clouds, and the fair day gave place to gloomy 
 twilight, which lay heavily on the Indian Plains. 
 He remembered an old Indian Castle, that once 
 stood at the foot of the mountain. He thought if 
 he could make his way to this, he would rest con- 
 
126 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 tented for a short time. The mountain air breathed 
 fragrance— a rosy tinge rested on the glassy waters 
 that murmured at its base. His resolution soon 
 brought him to the remains of the red man's hut : 
 he surveyed with wonder and astonishment the 
 decayed building, which time had buried in the 
 dust, and thought to himself, his happiness was not 
 yet complete. Beside the shore of the brook sat a 
 young man, about eighteen or twenty, who seemed 
 to be reading some favourite book, and who had a 
 remarkably noble countenance— eyes which betrayed 
 more than a common mind. This of course made 
 the youth a welcome guest, and gained him friends 
 in whatever condition of life he might be placed. 
 The traveller observed that he was a well-built 
 figure which showed strength and grace in every 
 movement. He accordingly addressed him m quite 
 a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the 
 way to the village. After he had received the 
 desired information, and was about taking his 
 leave, the youth said, ' Are you not Major Elfonzo, 
 the great musician— the champion of a noble cause 
 —the modern Achilles, who gained so many vic- 
 tories in the Florida War ? ' a bear that name,' 
 said the Major, ^and those titles, trusting at the 
 same time, that the ministers of gi-ace wiU carry 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 127 
 
 me triumphantly through all my laudable under- 
 takings, and if,' continued the Major, ^ you, sir, are 
 the patroniser of noble deeds, I should like to make 
 you my confidant, and learn your address.' The 
 youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused 
 for a moment, and began : * My name is Eoswell. 
 I have been recently admitted to the bar, and can 
 only give a faint outline of my future success in 
 that honourable profession ; but I trust, sir, like 
 the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon 
 the dwellings of man, and shall ever be ready to 
 give you any assistance in my official capacity, and 
 whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, when- 
 ever it shall be called from its buried greatness: 
 The Major grasped him by the hand, and exclaimed: 
 * 0 ! thou exalted spirit of inspiration— thou flame 
 of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed 
 blaze be the glare of thy soul, and battle down 
 every rampart that seems to impede your pro- 
 
 gress ' ' 
 
 The road which led to the town presented many 
 attractions. Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth 
 of deep feeling, and was now wending his way to 
 the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south 
 winds whistled through the woods, as the waters 
 dashed against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent 
 
128 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 furnace roars. This brought him to remember 
 while alone, that he quietly left behind the hos- 
 pitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the 
 world, with higher hopes than are often realised. 
 But as he journeyed onward, he was mindful of the 
 advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on 
 the ground, when tears of cruelly deceived hope 
 moistened his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of 
 a dutiful son ; yet fond of the amusements of life 
 —had been in distant lands — had enjoyed the 
 pleasure of the world, and had frequently returned 
 to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute of 
 many of the comforts of life. In this condition he 
 would frequently say to his father, * Have I offended 
 you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and 
 frown upon me with stinging looks ? Will you not 
 favour me with the sound of your voice ? If I 
 have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread 
 a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, 
 send me back into the world where no heart beats 
 for me — where the foot of man has never yet trod ; 
 but give me at least one kind word — allow me to 
 come into the presence sometimes of thy winter- 
 worn locks.' ' Forbid it. Heaven, that I should be 
 angry with thee,' answered the father, *my son, 
 and yet I send thee back to the children of the 
 
OR, l.OVn TRIUMPHANT '^9 
 ,.o.U -to the cold charity of the combat, and to a 
 land of victory. I read another destiny m thy 
 countenance-I learn thy inclinatrons from the 
 flame that has already Idndled in my Boul a strange 
 Bensation. It will seel, thee, my Elfonzo rt 
 ^vill find thee-thon canst not escape that hghted 
 torch which shall blot out from the remembrance 
 of men a long train of prophecies which they have 
 foretold against thee. I once thought not so. 
 Once I was blind ; but now the path of hfe rs plam 
 before me, and my sight is clear ; yet, Elfon.o, 
 return to thy worldly occupa,tion-take agam m 
 thy hand that chord of sweet sounds-strugg e 
 with the civilised world, and with your own heart ; 
 fly swiftly to the enchanted ground-let the mght- 
 owl send forth its screams from the stubborn oak 
 _let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars 
 sing together; but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy 
 aoom, and thy hiding-place. Our most mrrocen 
 as well as our most lawful desires must often be 
 denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them to a 
 
 Hisher will.' 
 
 Eemembering such admonitions With gra rtude, 
 Elfonzo was immediately urged by the recollection 
 of his father's family to keep moving. His steps 
 became quicker and quicker-he hastened through 
 
130 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 the piny woods, dark as the forest was, and with 
 joy he very soon reached the Httle village of repose, 
 in whose bosom rested the boldest chivaby. His 
 close attention to every important object— his 
 modest questions about whatever was new to him 
 —his reverence for wise old age, and his ardent 
 desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought 
 him into respectable notice. 
 
 One mild winter day, as he walked along the 
 streets towards the Academy, which stood upon a 
 
 small eminence, surrounded by native growth 
 
 some venerable in its appearance, others young 
 and prosperous— all seemed inviting, and seemed 
 to be the very place for learning as well as for 
 genius to spend its research beneath its spreading 
 shades. He entered its classic walls in the usual 
 mode of Southern manners. The principal of the 
 Institution begged him to be seated, and Hstcn to 
 the recitations that were going on. He accordingly 
 obeyed the request, and seemed to be much pleased. 
 After the school was dismissed, and the 3'oung 
 hearts regained their freedom, with the songs of 
 the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures 
 of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions 
 of the past day, he addressed the teacher in a tone 
 that indicated a resolution— with an undaunted 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 131 
 
 mind. He said he had determined to become a 
 student, if he could meet with his approbation. 
 * Sir,' said he, ' I have spent much time in the 
 world. I have travelled among the uncivilised in- 
 habitants of America. I have met with friends, 
 and combated with foes ; but none of these gratify 
 my ambition, or decide what is to be my destiny. 
 I see the learned world have an influence with the 
 voice of the peof)le themselves. The despoilers of 
 the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their 
 differences to this class of persons. This the 
 illiterate and inexperienced little dream of; and 
 now if you will receive me as I am, with these 
 deficiencies — with all my misguided opinions, I will 
 give you my honour, sir, that I will never disgrace 
 the Institution, or those who have placed you in 
 this honourable station.' The instructor, who had 
 met with many disappointments, knew how to feel 
 for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the 
 charities of an unfeeling community. He looked 
 at him earnestly, and said : * Be of good cheer — 
 look forward, sir, to the high destination you may 
 attain. Eemember, the more elevated the mark at 
 which you aim, the more sure, the more glorious, 
 the more magnificent the prize.' From wonder to 
 wonder, his encouragement led the impatient lis- 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 tener. A strange nature bloomed before him — 
 giant streams promised him success— gardens of 
 hidden treasures opened to his view. All this, so 
 vividly described, seemed to gain a new ^Yitchery 
 from his glo^Ying fancy. 
 
 In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid 
 progress in the English and Latin departments. 
 Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity, 
 that he was like to become the first in his class, 
 and made such unexpected progress, and was so 
 studious, that he had almost forgotten the pictured 
 saint of his affections. The fresh wreaths of the 
 pine and c^^press had waited anxiously to drop once 
 more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of those 
 who had so often poured forth the tender emotions 
 of their souls under its boughs. He was aware of 
 the pleasure that he had seen there. So one even- 
 ing, as he was returning from his reading, he con- 
 cluded he would pay a visit to this enchanting 
 spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow 
 of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished 
 it might be so. He continued sauntering by the 
 road-side, meditating on the past. The nearer he 
 approached the spot, the more anxious he became. 
 At that moment, a tall female figure flitted across 
 liis path, with a bunch of roses in her hand ; her 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 133 
 
 countenance showed uncommon vivacity, with a 
 resolute spirit ; her ivory teeth already appeared as 
 she smiled beautifully promenading, while her ring- 
 lets of hair dangled unconsciously around her 
 snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete 
 her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full 
 bloom upon her cheek ; the charms of sensibility 
 and tenderness were always her associates. In 
 Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul — one that 
 never faded — one that never was conquered. Her 
 heart yielded to no feeling but the love of Elfonzo, 
 on whom she gazed with intense delight, and to 
 whom she felt herself more closely bound because 
 he sought the hand of no other. Elfonzo was 
 roused from his apparent reverie. His books no 
 longer were his inseparable companions — his 
 thoughts arrayed themselves to encourage him to 
 the field of victory. He endeavoured to speak to 
 his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared 
 not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire, 
 that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration, 
 and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia 
 had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his 
 duty. As she walked speedily away through the 
 piny woods, she calmly echoed : ' 0 ! Elfonzo, thou 
 wilt now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now 
 
134 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 walk in a new path — perhaps thy ^Yay leads through 
 darkness; but fear not, the stars foretell happi- 
 ness.' 
 
 Not many days afterwards, as surrounded by 
 fragrant flowers, she sat one evening at twilight, to 
 enjoy the cool breeze that whispered notes of 
 melody along the distant groves, the little birds 
 perched on every side, as if to watch the move- 
 ments of their new visitor. The bells were tolling, 
 when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood 
 flowers, holding in his hand his favourite instru- 
 ment of music — his e^^e continually searching for 
 Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him, as 
 she played carelessly with the songsters that 
 hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be 
 more striking than the difference between the two. 
 Nature seemed to have given the more tender soul 
 to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous 
 to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes 
 of Elfonzo— such a feehng as can only be expressed 
 by those who are blessed as admirers, and by those 
 who are able to return the same with sincerity of 
 heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia, 
 she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He 
 had almost grown up in the Cherokee country, 
 with the same equal proportions as one of the 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 135 
 
 natives. But little intimacy had existed between 
 them until the year forty-one — because the youth 
 felt that the character of such a lovely girl was too 
 exalted to inspire any other feeling than that of 
 quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be 
 insulted, at all times and under all circumstances, 
 by the frowns and cold looks of crabbed old age, 
 which should continually reflect dignity upon those 
 around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the 
 fortunate with a graceful mien, he continued to use 
 diligence and perseverance. All this lighted a 
 spark in his heart that changed his whole character, 
 and like the unyielding Deity that follows the 
 storm to check its rage in the forest, he resolves for 
 the first time to shake off his embarrassment, and 
 return where he had before only worshipped. 
 
 It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye, 
 that he sought an interview with her, which she as 
 anxiously avoided, and assumed a more distant 
 calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. 
 After many efforts and struggles with his own 
 person, with timid steps the Major approached the 
 damsel, with the same caution as he would have 
 done in a field of battle. ' Lady AmbuHnia,' said 
 he, trembling, ' I have long desired a moment like 
 this. I dare not let it escape. I fear the cojI- 
 
136 THE ENEMY CONQUERED ; 
 
 sequences ; yet I hope your indulgence will at least 
 hear my petition. Can you not anticipate what I 
 would say, and what I am about to express ? AVill 
 you not, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain 
 of Jupiter, release me from thy winding chains, or 
 
 cure me ' ' Say no more, Elfonzo,' answered 
 
 Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand as 
 if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the 
 whole world, ' another lady in my place would have 
 perhaps answered your question in bitter coldness. 
 I know not the little arts of my sex. I care but 
 little for the vanity of those who would chide me, 
 and am unwilling, as well as ashamed to be guilty 
 of anything that would lead you to think all is 
 not gold that glitters : " so be not rash in your 
 resolution. It is better to repent now, than to do 
 it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you 
 would say. I know you have a costly gift for me — 
 the noblest that man can make — your heart! you 
 should not offer it to one so unworthy. Heaven, 
 you know, has allowed my father's house to be 
 made a house of sohtude, a home of silent obedi- 
 ence, which, my parents say, is more to be admired 
 than big names and high-sounding titles. Not- 
 withstanding all this, let me speak the emotions 
 of an honest heart— allow me to say in the fulness 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 137 
 
 of my hopes that I anticipate better days. The 
 bird may stretch its wings towards the sun, which 
 it can never reach ; and flowers of the field appear 
 to ascend in the same direction, because they 
 cannot do otherwise : but man confides his com- 
 plaints to the saints in whom he believes : for 
 in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. 
 From your confession and indicative looks, I must 
 be that person : if so, deceive not yourself.' 
 
 Elfonzo replied, * Pardon me, my dear madam, 
 for my frankness. I have loved you from my 
 earliest days — everything grand and beautiful 
 hath borne the image of Ambulinia : while preci- 
 pices on every hand surrounded me, your guardian 
 angel stood and beckoned me away from the deep 
 abyss. In every trial — in every misfortune, I 
 have met with your helping hand ; yet I never 
 dreamed or dared to cherish thy love, till a voice 
 impaired v/ith age encouraged the cause, and 
 declared they who acquired thy favour should win 
 a victory. I saw how Leos worshipped thee. I 
 felt my own unworthiness. I began to know 
 jealousy y a strong guest indeed, in my bosom ; yet I 
 could see, if I gained your admiration, Leos was 
 to be my rival. I was aware that he had the 
 influence of your parents, and the wealth of a 
 
138 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for 
 permanent and regular tranquillity; yet I have 
 determined by your permission to beg an interest 
 in your prayers— to ask you to animate my droop- 
 ing spirits by your smiles and your ^Yinning looks ; 
 for, if you but speak, I shall be conqueror, my 
 enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. And 
 though earth and sea may tremble, and the 
 charioteer of the sun may forget his dashing steed; 
 yet I am assured that it is only to arm me with 
 divine weapons, which will enable me to complete 
 my long-tried intention.' ^ Eeturn to yourself, 
 Elfonzo,' said Ambulinia, pleasantly, 'a dream of 
 vision has disturbed your intellect— you are above 
 the atmosphere, dwelling in the celestial regions ; 
 nothing is there that urges or hinders, nothing 
 that brings discord into our present litigation. I 
 entreat you to condescend a httle, and be a man 
 and forget it all. When Homer describes the battle 
 of the gods and noble men, fighting with giants 
 and dragons, they represent under this image our 
 struggles with the delusions of our passions. You 
 have exalted me, an unhappy girl, to the skies— 
 you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your 
 imagination an angel in human form. Let her 
 remain such to you— let her continue to be as you 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 139 
 
 have supposed, and Lo assured that she will con- 
 sider a share in your esteem as her highest trea- 
 sure. Think not that I would allure you from the 
 path in which your conscience leads you ; for you 
 know I respect the conscience of others, as I would 
 die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy 
 love, let such conversation never again pass be- 
 tween us. Go, seek a nobler theme ; we will seek 
 it in the stream of time, as the sun set in the 
 Tigris.' As she s^^ake these words, she grasped 
 the hand of Elfonzo, saying at the same time, 
 * Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero ; be up 
 and doing.' Closing her remarks with this expres- 
 sion, she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo 
 astonished and amazed. He ventured not to follow 
 or detain her. Here he stood alone, gazing at the 
 stars ; — confounded as he was, here he stood. The 
 rippling stream rolled on at his feet. Twilight had 
 already begun to draw her sable mantle over the 
 earth, and now and then the fiery smoke would 
 ascend from the little town which lay spread out 
 before him. The citizens seemed to be full of life 
 and good humour; but poor Elfonzo saw not a 
 brilliant scene. No, his future life stood before 
 him, stripped of the hopes that once adorned all 
 his sanguine desires. * Alas ! ' said he, ' am I now 
 
I40 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 Griefs disappointed son at last ! ' Ambulinia's 
 image rose before his fancy. A mixture of ambi- 
 tion and greatness of soul moved upon his young 
 heart, and encouraged him to bear all his crosses 
 with the patience of a Job, notwithstanding he had 
 to encounter with so many obstacles. He still 
 endeavoured to prosecute his studies, and reason- 
 ably progressed in his education. Still he was not 
 content; there was something yet to be done 
 before his happiness was complete. He would 
 visit his friends and acquaintances. They would 
 invite him to social parties, insisting that he should 
 partake of the amusements that were going on. 
 This he enjoyed tolerably well. The ladies and 
 gentlemen were generally well pleased with the 
 Major, as he delighted all with his violin, which 
 seemed to have a thousand chords— more sympho- 
 nious than the Muses of Apollo, and more enchant- 
 ing than the ghost of the Hills. He passed some 
 days in the country. During that time Leos had 
 made many calls upon Ambulinia, who was gene- 
 rally received with a great deal of courtesy by the 
 family. They thought him to be a young man 
 worthy of attention, though he had but httle in his 
 soul to attract the attention, or even win the affec- 
 tions of her whose graceful manners had almost 
 
OR, LOVn TRIUMPHANT 141 
 
 made him a slave to every bewitching look that 
 fell from her eyes. Leos made several attempts to 
 tell her of his fair prospects — how much he loved 
 her, and how much it would add to his bliss if he 
 could but think she would be willing to share these 
 blessings with him ; but, choked by his under- 
 taking, he made himself more like an inactive 
 drone than he did like one who bowed at beauty's 
 shrine. 
 
 Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately 
 w^alls and new-built village. He now determines 
 to see the end of the prophecy which had been 
 foretold to him. The clouds burst from his sight ; 
 he believes if he can but see his Ambulinia, he can 
 open to her view the bloody altars that have been 
 misrepresented to stigmatise his name. He knows 
 that her breast is transfixed with the sword of 
 reason, and ready at all times to detect the hidden 
 villainy of her enemies. He resolves to see her in 
 her own home, with the consoling theme : ' I can 
 but perish if I go. Let the consequences be what 
 they may,' said he, * if I die, it shall be contending 
 and struggling for my own rights.' 
 
 Night had almost overtaken him when he 
 arrived in town. Colonel Elder, a noble-hearted, 
 high-minded, and independent man, met him at 
 
142 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 his door as usual, and seized him by the hand. 
 ' Well, Elfonzo,' said the Colonel, ' how does the 
 world use you in your efforts ? ' 'I have no objec- 
 tion to the world,' said Elfonzo, *but the people 
 are rather singular in some of their opinions.' 
 * Aye, well,' said the Colonel, 'you must remember 
 that creation is made up of many mysteries : just 
 take things by the right handle — be always sure you 
 know which is the smooth side before you attempt 
 your pohsh— be reconciled to your fate, be it what 
 it may, and never find fault with your condition, 
 unless your complaining will benefit it. Persever- 
 ance is a principle that should be commendable in 
 those who have judgment to govern it. I should 
 never have been so successful in my hunting ex- 
 cursions, had I waited till the deer by some magic 
 dream had been drawn to the muzzle of the gun, 
 before I made an attempt to fire at the game that 
 dared my boldness in the wild forest. The great 
 mystery in hunting seems to be — a good marks- 
 man, a resolute mind, a fixed determination, and 
 my word for it, you will never return home with- 
 out sounding your horn with the breath of a new 
 victory. And so with every other undertaking. 
 Be confident that your ammunition is of the right 
 kind— always pull your trigger with a steady hand, 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 143 
 
 and so soon as you perceive a calm, touch her off, 
 and the spoils are yours.' 
 
 This filled him with redoubled vigour, and he 
 set out with a stronger anxiety than ever to the 
 home of Ambulinia. A few short steps soon 
 brought him to the door, half out of breath. He 
 rapped gently. Ambulinia, who sat in the parlour 
 alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near, ventured to 
 the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood 
 in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as 
 they caught each other's looks, the light of peace 
 beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia. Elfonzo 
 caught the expression ; a halloo of smothered 
 shouts ran through every vein, and for the first 
 time he dared to impress a kiss upon her cheek. 
 The scene was overwhelming ; had the temptation 
 been less animating, he w^ould not have ventured 
 to have acted so contrary to the desired wish of his 
 Ambulinia; but who could have withstood the 
 irresistible temptation? What society condemns 
 the practice, but a cold, heartless, uncivilised 
 people, that know nothing of the warm attach- 
 ments of refined society ? Here the dead w^as 
 raised to his long-cherished hopes, and the lost was 
 found. Here all doubt and danger were buried in 
 the vortex of oblivion; sectional differences no 
 
1 14 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 longer disunited their opinions ; like the freed bird 
 from the cage, sportive claps its rustling wings, 
 wheels about to Heaven in a joyful strain, and 
 raises its notes to the upper sky. Ambulinia in- 
 sisted upon Elfonzo to be seated, and give her a 
 history of his unnecessary absence ; assuring him 
 the family had retired, consequently they would 
 ever remain ignorant of his visit. Advancing 
 to^vards him, she gave a bright display of her rosy 
 neck, and from her head the ambrosial locks 
 breathed divine fragrance ; her robe hung waving 
 to his view, while she stood like a goddess confessed 
 before him. 
 
 * It does seem to me, my dear sir,' said Ambu- 
 linia, * that you have been gone an age. Oh, the 
 restless hours I have spent since I last saw you, in 
 yon beautiful grove ! There is where I trifled with 
 your feelings for the express purpose of trying your 
 attachment for me. I now find you are devoted ; 
 but ah ! I trust you live not unguarded by the 
 powers of Heaven. Though oft did I refuse to join 
 my hand with thine, and as oft did I cruelly meek 
 thy entreaties with borrowed shapes : yes, I feared 
 to answer thee by terms, in w^ords sincere and 
 undissembled. 0 ! could I pursue, and you had 
 leisure to hear the annals of my woes, the evening 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT MS 
 
 star would shut Heaven's gates upon the impend- 
 ing day, before my tale would be finished, and this 
 night would find me soliciting your forgiveness. 
 * Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts,' replied Elfonzo. 
 ' Look 0 ! look : that angelic look of thine— bathe 
 not thy visage in tears ; banish those floods that 
 are gathering ; let my confession and my presence 
 bring thee some relief.' ' Then, indeed, I will be 
 cheerful,' said Ambulinia; ' and I think, if we will 
 go to the exhibition this evening, we certainly will 
 see something worthy of our attention. One of 
 the most tragical scenes is to be acted that has 
 ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous- 
 hearted person should learn a lesson from. It 
 cannot fail to have a good effect, as it will be per- 
 formed by those who are young and vigorous, and 
 learned as well as enticing. You are aware. Major 
 Elfonzo, who are to appear on the stage, and what 
 the characters are to represent.' ' I am acquainted 
 with the circumstances,' replied Elfonzo, * and as 
 I am to be one of the musicians upon that inte- 
 resting occasion, I should be much gratified if you 
 would favour me with your company during the 
 hours of the exercises.' 
 
 *What strange notions are in your mind?' 
 inquired Ambulinia. * Now I know you have some- 
 
 L 
 
146 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 thing in view, and I desire you to tell me why it 
 is that you are so anxious that I should continue 
 with you while the exercises are going on ; though, 
 if you think I can add to your happiness and predi- 
 lections, I have no particular objection to acquiesce 
 in your request. Oh, I think I foresee, now, what 
 you anticipate.' ' And will you have the goodness 
 to tell me what you think it to be ? ' inquired 
 Elfonzo. 'By all means,' answered Ambulinia; 
 * a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind ; 
 but let me say to you, fear not ! fear not ! I will 
 be one of the last persons to disgrace my sex, by 
 thus encouraging every one who may feel disposed 
 to visit me, who may honour me with their grace- 
 ful bows and their choicest compliments. It is 
 true that young men too often mistake civil polite- 
 ness for the finer emotions of the heart, which is 
 tantamount to courtship ; but, ah ! how often are 
 they deceived when they come to test the weight 
 of sunbeams, with those on whose strength hangs 
 the future happiness of an untried life.' 
 
 The people were now rushing to the Academy 
 with impatient anxiety; the band of music was 
 closely followed by the students ; then the parents 
 and guardians ; nothing interrupted the glow of 
 spirits which ran through every bosom, tinged 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHA^T I47 
 
 with the songs of a Virgil and the tide of a Homer. 
 Elfonzo and AmbuHnia soon repaired to the scene, 
 and, fortunately for them both, the house was so 
 crowded that they took their seats together in the 
 music department, which was not in view of the 
 auditory. This fortuitous circumstance added more 
 to the bliss of the Major than a thousand such 
 exhibitions would have done. He forgot that he 
 was man; music had lost its charms for him; 
 whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string 
 of the instrument would break, the bow became 
 stubborn, and refused to obey the loud calls of the 
 audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his 
 home, the long-sought-for opportunity ; he felt as 
 though he could send a million supplications to the 
 throne of heaven for such an exalted privilege. 
 Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd, look- 
 ing as attentively as if he was searching for a needle 
 in a haystack ; here he stood, wondering to him- 
 self why Ambulinia was not there. * Where can 
 she be ? Oh ! if she was only here, how I could 
 relish the scene ! Elfonzo is certainly not in 
 town ; but what if he is ? I have got the wealth, 
 if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that the 
 squire and his lady have always been particular 
 friends of mine, and I think with this assurance I 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE ENEMY CONQUERED \ 
 
 shall be able to get upon the blmd side of the rest 
 of the family, and make the heaven-born Ambu- 
 linia the mistress of all I possess.' Then, again, he 
 would drop his head, as if attempting to solve the 
 most difficult problem in Euclid. While he was 
 thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very inte- 
 resting part of the exhibition was going on, which 
 called the attention of all present. The curtains of 
 the stage waved continually by the repelled forces 
 that were given to them, which caused Leos to be- 
 hold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo. 
 Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the 
 chandelier, filled his heart with rapture, he knew 
 not how to contain himself ; to go where they were 
 would expose him to ridicule ; to continue where he 
 was, with such an object before him, without being 
 allowed an explanation in that trjdng hour, would 
 be to the great injury of his mental as well as of 
 his physical powers ; and, in the name of high 
 heaven, what must he do ? Finally, he resolved 
 to contain himself as well as he conveniently could, 
 until the scene was over, and then he would plant 
 himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from 
 the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make 
 for himself a more prosperous field of immor- 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 tality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence, or 
 ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly 
 he made himself sentinel, immediately after the 
 performance of the evening— retained his position 
 apparently in defiance of all the world, he waited, 
 he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled; 
 here he stood until everything like human shape 
 had disappeared from the Institution, and he 
 had done nothing ; he had failed to accomplish 
 that which he so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfor- 
 tunate creature ! he had not the eyes of an Argus, 
 or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo, 
 assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape 
 from the window, and, with the rapidity of a race- 
 horse, hurry through the blast of the storm, to the 
 residence of her father, without being recognised. 
 He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the 
 endless chain of their existence was more closely 
 connected than ever, since he had seen the virtuous, 
 innocent, imploring, and the constant Amelia 
 murdered by the jealous^hearted Farcillo, the 
 accursed of the land. 
 
 The following is the tragical scene, which is only 
 introduced to show the subject matter that enabled 
 Elfonzo to come to such a determinate resolution, 
 
I50 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 that nothing of the kind should ever dispossess him 
 of his true character, should he be so fortunate as 
 to succeed in his present undertaking. 
 
 Ameha was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous 
 woman ; Gracia, a young lady, was her particular 
 friend and confidant. Farcillo grew jealous of 
 Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was de- 
 ceived, and stabs himself, Amelia appears alone, 
 talking to herself. 
 
 A. Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred 
 tombs and silent walks ! it is your aid I invoke; it 
 is to you, my soul, wrapt in deep meditation, pours 
 forth its prayer. Here I wander upon the stage of 
 mortahty, since the world hath turned against me. 
 Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas ! are 
 now my enemies, planting thorns in all my paths, 
 poisoning all my pleasures, and turning the past to 
 pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs and 
 tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom 
 with the fleeting dream of humanity, which must 
 shortly terminate ! And to what purpose will all 
 this bustle of life, these agitations and emotions of 
 the heart, have conduced, if it leave behind it no- 
 thing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement ? 
 Can it be that I am deceived in my conclusion ? 
 No, I see that I have nothing to hope for, but 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 151 
 
 everything to fear, which tends to drive me from 
 the walks of time. 
 
 Oh ! in this dead night, if loud winds arise, 
 To lash the surge and bluster in the skies, 
 May the west its furious rage display, 
 Toss me with storms in the watery way. 
 
 {Enter Gracia.) 
 
 G, Oh, Amelia, is it you, the object of grief, the 
 daughter of opulence, of wisdom and philosophy, 
 that thus complaineth ? It cannot be you are the 
 child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of 
 former ages, which were allotted not for the reflec- 
 tion of the distressed, but for the fearless and bold. 
 
 A, Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir 
 of glory and peace, but of fate. Eemember, I have 
 wealth more than wit can number ; I have had 
 power more than kings could encompass ; yet the 
 world seems a desert ; all nature appears an afflic- 
 tive spectacle of warring passions. This blind 
 fatahty, that capriciously sports with the rules and 
 lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will 
 never again send forth the water of their springs 
 to my thirst. Oh, that I might be freed and set at 
 liberty from wTetchedness ! But I fear, I fear this 
 will never be. 
 
 G, Why, AmeHa, this untimely grief? What 
 
152 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 has caused the sorrows that bespeak better and 
 happier days, to thus lavish out such heaps of 
 misery? You are aware that your instructive 
 lessons embelhsh the mind with holy truths, by 
 wedding its attention to none but great and noble 
 affections. 
 
 A, This, of course, is some consolation. I will 
 ever love my own species with feelings of a fond 
 recollection, and while I am studying to advance 
 the universal philanthropy, and the spotless name 
 of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon 
 the pleasing belief that I have accelerated the 
 advancement of one who whispers of departed con- 
 fidence. 
 
 And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside 
 
 Kemote from friends, in a forest wide. 
 Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require, 
 Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire. 
 
 G, Look up, thou poor disconsolate ; j^ou speak 
 of quitting earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom 
 to a friend, who would be willing to sacrifice every 
 enjoyment for the restoration of that dignity and 
 gentleness of mind which used to grace your 
 walks, and which is so natural to yourself; not 
 only that, but your paths were strewed with flowers 
 of every hue and of every order. 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 153 
 
 With verdant green the mountains glow, 
 For thee, for thee, the Hhes grow ; 
 Far stretched beneath the tented hills, 
 A fairer flower the valley fills. 
 
 A, Oil, would to heaven I could give you a 
 short narrative of my former prospects for happi- 
 ness, since you have acknowledged to be an un- 
 changeable confidant — the richest of all other 
 blessings ! Oh, ye names for ever glorious, ye 
 celebrated scenes, ye renowned spot of my hy- 
 meneal moments ; how replete is your chart with 
 sublime reflections ! How many profound vows, 
 decorated with immaculate deeds, are written upon 
 the surface of that precious spot of earth, where I 
 yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth with all 
 its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the 
 laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my 
 juvenile career ! It was then I began to descend 
 towards the valley of disappointment and sorrow ; 
 it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious 
 ocean of wedlock, with him who then smiled and 
 caressed me, but, alas ! now frowns with bitter- 
 ness, and has grown jealous and cold towards me, 
 because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. 
 Oh, bear me, ye flowers of memory, softly through 
 the eventful history of past times ; and ye places 
 that have witnessed the progression of man in the 
 
154 THE ENEMY CONQUERED-, 
 
 circle of so many societies, aid, oh aid my recollec- 
 tion, while I endeavour to trace the vicissitudes of 
 a Hfe devoted in endeavouring to comfort him that 
 I claim as the ohject of my wishes ! 
 
 •Ah !^ ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few 
 Act just to Hecaven and to your promise true ! 
 But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye, 
 The deeds of men lay open without disguise ; 
 Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear,' 
 For all the oppressed are his pecuhar care. 
 
 [F, makes a slight noise.) 
 A, Who is there— Far cillo ? 
 G. Then I must he gone. Heaven protect you. 
 Oh, Amelia, farewell, he of good cheer. 
 
 May you stand, like Olympus' towers, 
 Against earth and all jealous powers ! 
 May you, with loud shouts ascend on high, 
 Swift as an eagle in the upper sky. 
 
 A, Why so cold and distant to-night, Farcillo ? 
 Come, let us each other greet, and forget all the 
 past, and give security for the future. 
 
 F. Security ! talk to me ahout giving security 
 for the future-what an insulting requisition! 
 Have you said your prayers to-night. Madam 
 Amelia ? 
 
 A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, 
 particularly when we expect to be caressed by others! 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 155 
 
 F, If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of 
 any fault, that is yet concealed from the courts of 
 Heaven and the thrones of grace, I bid you ask 
 and solicit forgiveness for it now. 
 
 A, Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so ! 
 What do you mean by all this ? 
 
 jP. Be kind, you say ; you, madam, have forgot 
 that kindness you owe to me, and bestowed it upon 
 another ; you shall suffer for your conduct when you 
 make your peace with your God. I would not slay 
 thy unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my 
 guard and my watch — I would not kill thy soul, 
 in which all once seemed just, right, and perfect ; 
 but I must be brief, woman. 
 
 A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farcillo, 
 Farcillo, what is the matter ? 
 
 F, Aye, I do, without doubt ; mark what I say, 
 Amelia. 
 
 A, Then, 0 God, 0 Heaven, and Angels, be 
 propitious, and have mercy upon me ! 
 
 F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart 
 and with all my soul. 
 
 A, Farcillo, listen to me one moment ; I hope 
 you will not kill me. 
 
 F, Kill you, aye, that I will ; attest it, ye fair 
 host of light ; record it, ye dark imps of hell ! 
 
156 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 A. Oh, I fear you — you are fatal when darkness 
 covers your brow ; yet I know not why I should 
 fear, since I never wronged you in all my life. I 
 stand, sir, guiltless before you. 
 
 F, You pretend to say you are guiltless ! 
 Think of thy sins, Amelia ; think, oh think, hidden 
 woman ! 
 
 A, Wherein have I not been true to you? 
 That death is unkind, cruel, and unnatural, that 
 kills for loving. 
 
 F, Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee. 
 
 A, I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent, 
 tell me the cause of such cruel coldness in an hour 
 like this. 
 
 F. That ring, oh that ring I so loved, and 
 gave thee as the ring of my heart ; the allegiance 
 you took to be faithful, when it was presented ; the 
 kisses and smiles with which you honoured it. You 
 became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague, 
 and finally gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile 
 traitor ! 
 
 A. No, upon my word and honour, I never did ; 
 I appeal to the Most High to bear me out in this 
 matter. Send for Malos, and ask him. 
 
 F. Send for Malos, aye ! Malos you wish to see ; 
 I thought so. I knew you could not keep his 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT I57 
 
 name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia, take heed, 
 take heed of perjury ; you are on the stage of death, 
 to suffer for your sins, 
 
 A. What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my 
 
 ever beloved ? 
 
 F, Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death. 
 Shortly your spirit shall take its exit; therefore 
 confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends only to 
 make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast 
 made for me. Thou art to die with the name of 
 traitor on thy brow ! 
 
 A, Then, 0 Lord, have mercy upon me; give 
 me courage, give me grace and fortitude to stand 
 this hour of trial ! 
 
 F. Amen, I say, with all my heart. 
 A. And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too ? 
 I never intentionally offended you in all my hfe ; 
 never loved Malos, never gave him cause to think 
 so, as the high court of Justice will acquit me before 
 its tribunal. 
 
 F, Oh, false, perjured woman, thou dost chill 
 my blood, and makest me a demon like thyself. I 
 
 saw the ring. 
 
 A, He found it, then, or got it clandestinely; 
 send for him, and let him confess the truth ; let his 
 confession be sifted. 
 
158 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 F . And you still wish to see him ! I tell you, 
 madam, he hath already confessed, and thou know- 
 est the darkness of thy heart. 
 
 A, What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him 
 the ring, in which all my affections were concen- 
 trated ? Oh, surely not. 
 
 F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it 
 will speak with a voice of thunder to thy soul. 
 A, He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot. 
 F. No, he will not say so now, because his 
 mouth, I trust, is hushed in death, and his body 
 stretched to the four winds of heaven, to be torn to 
 pieces by carnivorous birds. 
 
 A, What, is he dead, and gone to the world of 
 spirits with that declaration in his mouth? Oh, 
 unhapy man ! Oh, insupportable hour ! 
 
 F, Yes, and had all his sighs and looks and 
 tears been lives, my great revenge could have slain 
 them all, without the least condemnation. 
 
 A. Alas ! he is ushered into eternity without 
 testing the matter for which I am abused and sen- 
 tenced and condemned to die. 
 
 F . Cursed, infernal woman ! Weepest thou for 
 him to my face ? He that hath robbed me of my 
 peace, my energy, the whole love of my life? 
 Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT ISO 
 
 live and perish, survive and die, until the sun itself 
 would grow dim with age. I would make him 
 have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the wheel of 
 an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their 
 brilliant stations. 
 
 A. Oh, invincible God, save me ! Oh, unsup- 
 portable moment! Oh, heavy hour ! Banish me, 
 FarciUo-send me where no eye can ever see me, 
 where no sound shall ever greet my ear; but, oh, 
 slay me not, FaroiUo ; vent thy rage and thy spite 
 upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my 
 life! 
 
 F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia. 
 A. Oh, FarciUo, perpetrate the dark deed to- 
 morrow ; let me live till then, for my past kindness 
 to you, and it may be some kind angel will show to 
 you that I am not only the object of innocence, but 
 one who never loved another but your noble self. 
 
 F. Ameha, the decree has gone forth, it is to be 
 done, and that quickly ; thou art to die, madam. 
 
 A. But half an hour allow me, to see my father 
 and my only child, to tell her the treachery and 
 vanity of this world. 
 
 F. There is no alternative, there is no pause ; 
 my daughter shall not see its deceptive mother die ; 
 your father shall not know that his daughter fell 
 
i6o THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting 
 Malos. 
 
 A Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger 
 into its scabbard ; let it rest and be still, just while 
 I say one prayer for thee and for my child. 
 
 F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast 
 not confessed to Heaven or to me, my child's pro- 
 tector-^thou art to die. Ye powers of earth and 
 heaven, protect and defend me in this alone. 
 {Sials her, iMe imploring for mercy.) 
 
 A, Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die. 
 
 F. Die ! die ! die ! 
 
 {Gracia enters running, falls to her knees 
 weeping, and kisses Amelia.) 
 
 G. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo ! oh, Farcillo ! 
 
 F. I am here, the genius of the age, and the 
 avenger of my wrongs. 
 
 G. Oh, lady, speak once more ; sweet Ameha, 
 oh, speak again ! Gone, gone-yes, for ever gone ! 
 Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo, some evil fiend 
 hath urged you to do this, Farcillo. 
 
 F. Say you not so again, or you shall receive 
 the same fate. I did the glorious deed, madam- 
 beware, then, how you talk. 
 
 G. I fear not your implements of war ; I will 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT i6i 
 
 let you know you have not the power to do me 
 harm. If you have a heart of triple brass, it shall 
 be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill 
 thy veins and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is 
 the ring of the virtuous and innocent murdered 
 Amelia ; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives, in 
 hopes that he will survive the wound given him, 
 and says he got it clandestinely— declares Amelia 
 to be the princess of truth and virtue, invulnerable 
 to anything like forgetting her first devotion to 
 thee. The world has heard of your conduct and 
 your jealousy, and with one universal voice declares 
 her to be the best of all in piety ; that she is the 
 star of this great universe, and a more virtuous 
 woman never lived since the wheels of time began. 
 Oh, had you waited till to-morrow, or until I had 
 returned, some kind window would have been 
 opened to her relief. But, alas ! she is gone— yes, 
 for ever gone, to try the realities of an unknown 
 world ! 
 
 (Farcillo leaning over the hody of Amelia.) 
 
 F. Malos not dead, and here is my ring ! Oh, 
 Amelia! falsely, falsely murdered! Oh, bloody 
 deed ! Oh, wretch that I am ! Oh, angels, forgive 
 me ! Oh, God, withhold Thy vengeance ! Oh, 
 
 M 
 
1 62 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 Amelia, if Heaven ^Youl(l make a thousand worlds 
 like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect 
 chrysolite, I would not have done this for them all, 
 I w^ould not have frowned and cursed as I did. 
 Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very lap 
 of bright angels ! Cursed slave that I am ! 
 Jealousy, oh ! thou infernal demon ! Lost, lost to 
 every sense of honour ! Oh ! Amelia— heaven-born 
 Amelia— dead, dead ! Oh ! oh ! oh !— then let me 
 die with thee. Farewell ! farewell ! ye world that 
 deceived me ! {Stahs himself,) 
 
 Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene 
 was over, and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had 
 grown more buoyant with Elfonzo and Ambulinia, 
 he determined to visit his retired home, and make 
 the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day ; 
 consequently he conveyed the following lines to 
 Ambulinia : 
 
 Go tell the world that hope is glowing, 
 Go bid the rocks their silence break. 
 
 Go tell the stars that love is glowing, 
 Then bid the hero his lover take. 
 
 In the region where scarcely the foot of man 
 hath ever trod, where the woodman hath not found 
 his way, lies a blooming grove, seen only by the 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 163 
 
 snn when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only 
 by the light of the stars, to whom are entrusted 
 the guardianship of earth, before the sun sinks to 
 rest in his rosy bed. High cliffs of rock surround 
 the romantic place, and in the small cavity of the 
 rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure ; and 
 as the wind blows along the enchanting Httle 
 mountain which surrounds the lonely spot, it 
 nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven. 
 Here is the seat of Elfonzo; Darkness claims but 
 little victory over this dominion, and in vain does 
 she spread out her gloomy wings. Here the waters 
 flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops to- 
 gether to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse. 
 Elfonzo, during his short stay in the country, had 
 fully persuaded himself that it was his duty to 
 bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that 
 he individually owed, as a gentleman, to the 
 parents of Ambuhnia, a duty in itself involving not 
 only his own happiness and his own standing in 
 society, but one that called aloud the act of the 
 parties to make it perfect and complete. How he 
 should communicate his intentions to get a favour- 
 able reply, he was at a loss to know ; he knew not 
 whether to address Squire Valeer in prose or in 
 poetry, in a jocular or an argumentative manner, or 
 
 M 2 
 
i64 THE ENEMY CONQUERED i 
 
 whether he should use moral suasion, legal injunc- 
 tion, or seize and take by reprisal ; if it was to do 
 the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding 
 in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honour was 
 at stake ; so he concluded to address the folio win 
 letter to the father and mother of Ambulinia, 
 as his address in person he knew would only 
 aggravate the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady. 
 
 ' Gumming, Ga., January 22, 1844. 
 
 * Mr. and Mrs. Valeer, — 
 
 * Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing 
 you, and once more beg an immediate answer to 
 my many salutations. From every circumstance 
 that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to 
 comply with my obligations; to forfeit my word 
 would be more than I dare do : to break my pledge, 
 and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and 
 delivered in the presence of an unseen Deitv, 
 would be disgraceful on my part, as well as ruinous 
 to Ambulinia. I wish no longer to be kept in 
 suspense about this matter. I wish to act gentle- 
 manly in every particular. It is true the promises 
 I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia, 
 and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate 
 them, as they who promise the most generally 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 165 
 
 perform the least. Can you for a moment doubt 
 my sincerity or my character ? My only wish is, 
 sir, that you may calmly and dispassionately look 
 at the situation of the case, and if your better 
 judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations 
 may induce me to pluck the flower that you so 
 diametrically opposed. We have sworn by the 
 saints— by the gods of battle, and by that faith 
 whereby just men are made perfect, to be united. 
 I hope, my dear sir, you will find it convenient as 
 well as agreeable to give me a favourable answer, with 
 the signature of Mrs. Valeer as well as yourself. 
 * With very gi-eat esteem, 
 
 * Your humble servant, 
 
 ' J. I. Elfonzo.' 
 
 The moon and stars had grown pale w^hen 
 Ambulinia had retired to rest. A crowd of un- 
 pleasant thoughts passed through her bosom. 
 Solitude dwelt in her chamber — no sound from the 
 neighbouring world penetrated its stillness ; it 
 appeared a temple of silence, of repose, and of 
 mystery. At that moment she heard a still voice 
 calling her father. In an instant, like a flash of 
 lightning, a thought ran through her mind, that it 
 must be the bearer of Elfonzo's communication. 
 
1 66 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 ^It is not a dream! ' she said, 'no, I cannot read 
 dreams. Oh ! I would to Heaven I was near that 
 glowing eloquence— that poetical language,— it 
 charms the mind in an inexpressible manner, and 
 warms the coldest heart.' While consoling herself 
 ^vith this strain, her father rushed into her room 
 almost frantic with rage, exclaiming : * 0, Ambu- 
 linia! Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter! 
 What does this mean ? Why does this letter bear 
 such heartrending intelligence ? Will you quit a 
 father's house with this debased wretch, without a 
 place to lay his distracted head; going up and 
 down the country, with every novel object that 
 may chance to wander through this region ? He is 
 a pretty man to make love known to his superiors, 
 and you, Ambulinia, have done but little credit to 
 yourself by honouring his visits. 0 wretchedness ! 
 can it be that my hopes of happiness are for ever 
 blasted? Will you not hsten to a father's en- 
 treaties, and pay some regard to a mother's tears ? 
 I know, and I do pray that God will give me 
 fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and 
 rescue my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand 
 from the eternal burning.' ^Forgive me, father. 
 Oh ! forgive thy child,' replied Ambulinia. ' My 
 heart is ready to break, when I see you in this 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 167 
 
 grieved state of agitation. Oli ! think not so 
 meanly of me, as that I mourn for my own danger. 
 Father, I am only woman. Mother, I am only the 
 templement of thy youthful years ; but will suffer 
 courageously whatever punishment you think 
 proper to inflict upon me, if you will but allow me 
 to comply with my most sacred promises— if you 
 will but give me my personal right, and my per- 
 sonal liberty. Oh, father ! if your generosity will 
 but give me these, I ask nothing more. When 
 Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand, 
 never to forsake him; and now may the mighty 
 God banish me before I leave him in adversity ! 
 "What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity 
 with him whose offers I have accepted, and then, 
 when poverty comes, haggard as it may be,— for 
 me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven, and change 
 with every fluctuation that may interrux)t our 
 happiness,— like the politician who runs the 
 political gauntlet for office one day, and the next 
 day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is 
 seen running for his life, for fear he might perish 
 in its ruins. Yvhere is the philosophy; where is 
 the consistency ; where is the charity ; in conduct 
 like this ? Be happy, then, my beloved father, 
 and forget me; let the sorrow of parting break 
 
168 THE ENEMY COXQUERED; 
 
 down the wall of separation and make us equal in 
 our feeling; let me now say how ardently I love 
 you ; let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should 
 iny tears bedew thy face, I will wipe them away. 
 Oh, I never can forget you ; no, never, never ! ' 
 
 ' Weep not,' said the father, ' Ambulinia. I 
 will forbid Elfonzo my house, and desire that you 
 may keep retired a few days. I will let him know 
 that my friendship for my family is not linked 
 together by cankered chains ; and if he ever enters 
 upon my premises again, I will send him to his 
 long home.' ' Oh, father ! let me entreat you to be 
 calm upon this occasion ; and though Elfonzo may 
 be the sport of the clouds and winds, yet I feel 
 assured that no fate will send him to the silent 
 tomb until the God of the Universe calls him 
 hence with a triumphant voice.' 
 
 Here the father turned away, exclaiming: 'I 
 will answer his letter in a very few words, and you 
 madam, will have the goodness to stay at home 
 with your mother: and remember, I am determined 
 to protect you from the consuming fire that looks 
 60 fair to your view.' 
 
 ' Camming : January 22, 1844. 
 
 ' Sin,-In rogar.l to your request, I am as I ever 
 liave been, utterly opposed to your marrying into 
 
OR, LOVJS TRIUMPHANT i6g 
 
 my family ; and if you have any regard for your- 
 self, or any gentlemanly feeling, I hope you will 
 mention it to me no more ; but seek some other 
 one who is not so far superior to you in standing. 
 
 * W. W. Valeer.' 
 
 When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became 
 so much depressed in spirits, that many of his 
 friends thought it advisable to use other means to 
 bring about the happy union. * Strange,' said he, 
 * that the contents of this diminutive letter should 
 cause me to have such depressed feelings; but 
 there is a nobler theme than this, I know not why 
 my military title is not as great as that of Squire 
 Valeer. For my life I cannot see that my ancestors 
 are inferior to those who are so bitterly opposed to 
 my marriage with Ambulinia. I know I have seen 
 huge mountains before me ; yet, when I think that 
 I know gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate 
 matter, should I become angry at fools and babblers 
 who pride themselves in their impudence and 
 ignorance ? No. My equals ! I know not where to 
 find them. My inferiors ! I think it beneath me : 
 and my superiors ! I think it presumption : there- 
 fore, if this youthful heart is protected by any of 
 the divine rights, I never will betray my trust.' 
 
170 TJIE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 He was aware that Auabuliuia had a confidonce 
 that was. indeed, as fu-m and as resoh.te as she 
 was beautiful and interesting. He hastened to th-^ 
 cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual 
 mode of pleasantness, and informed him that 
 Ambulinia had just that moment left. ' Is it pos 
 sible?'saidElfonzo. ' Oh, murdered hour ! Why 
 did she not remain and be the guardian of my 
 secrets? But hasten and tell me how she has 
 stood this trying scene, and what are her future 
 de termmations.' < You know,' said Louisa, < Major 
 E ron.o, that you have Ambulinia's first love 
 wlHch IS of no small consequence. She came here' 
 about twilight, and shed many precious tears in 
 consequence of her own fate with yours. We 
 walked silently in yon little valley, you see, where 
 we spent a momentary repose. She seemed to be 
 quite as determined as ever, and before we left that 
 beautifu spot she offered up a prayer to Heaven 
 or thee. ' I will see her, then,' replied Elfonzo, 
 tbough legions of enemies may oppose. She i 
 
 nmie by foreordination-she is mine by prophecy- 
 lie IS mine by her own free will, and I will rescue 
 i.m he hands of her oppressors. Will you 
 no , Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture?' <! 
 will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence ' 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 171 
 
 answered Louisa, ' endeavour to break those slavisli 
 chains that bind the richest of prizes ; though 
 allow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh 
 means on this important occasion ; take a decided 
 stand, and write freely to Ambulinia upon this 
 subject, and I will see that no intervening cause 
 hinders its passage to her. God alone will save a 
 mourning people. Now is the day, and now is the 
 hour to obey a command of such valuable worth.' 
 The Major felt himself grow stronger after this 
 Bhort interview with Louisa. He felt as if he 
 could whip his weight in wild-cats — he knew he 
 was master of his own feelings, and could now 
 write a letter that would bring this litigation to an 
 issue, 
 
 ♦ Gumming, January 24, 1844. 
 
 * Dear Ambulinia, — 
 
 * We have now reached the most trying moment 
 of our lives; we are pledged not to forsake our 
 trust ; we have waited for a favourable hour to 
 come, thinking your friends would settle the 
 matter agreeably among themselves, and finally be 
 reconciled to our marriage ; but as I have w^aited in 
 vain, and looked in vain, I have determined in my 
 own mind to make a proposition to you, though you 
 may think it not in accordance with your station, or 
 
172 THE ENEMY CONQUERED 
 
 compatible with your rank ; yet, sub hoc signo 
 vinces." You know I cannot resume my visits, in 
 consequence of the utter hostihty that your father 
 has to me; therefore the consummation of our 
 union will have to be sought for in a more sublime 
 sphere, at the residence of a respectable friend of 
 this village. You cannot have any scruples upon 
 this mode of proceeding, if you will but remember 
 it emanates from one who loves you better than his 
 own life— who is more than anxious to bid you 
 welcome to a new and a happy home. Your 
 warmest associates say, come ; the talented, the 
 learned, the wise and the experienced say, come 
 all these with their friends say, come. Viewing 
 these, with many other inducements, I flatter 
 myself that you will come to the embraces of your 
 Elfonzo ; for now is the time of your acceptance 
 and the day of your liberation. You cannot be 
 ignorant, Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of 
 my heart; its thoughts are too noble, and too pure, 
 to conceal themselves from you. I shall wait for 
 your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you 
 will set the time to make your departure, and to 
 be in readiness at a moment's warnmg to share the 
 joys of a more preferable life. This will be handed 
 you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in commu- 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT I73 
 
 nicating anything to you that may relieve your de- 
 jected spirits, and will assure you that I now stand 
 ready, willing and waiting to make good my vows. 
 * I am, dear Ambulina, 
 
 ' Yours truly and for ever, 
 
 ' J. I. Elfonzo.* 
 
 Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer's, 
 though they did not suspect her in the least the 
 bearer of love epistles: consequently, she was 
 invited in the room to console Ambulinia, where 
 they were left alone. Ambuhnia was seated by a 
 small table— her head resting on her hand— her 
 briUiant eyes were bathed in tears. Louisa handed 
 her the letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit 
 animated her features—the spirit of renewed confi- 
 dence that never fails to strengthen the female 
 character in an hour of grief and sorrow like this ; 
 and as she pronounced the last accent of his name, 
 she exclaimed, 'And does he love me yet ? I never 
 will forget your generosity, Louisa. Oh, unhappy 
 and yet blessed Louisa ! may you never feel what 
 I have felt— may you never know the pangs of 
 love ! Had 1 never loved, I never would have been 
 unhappy : but I turn to Him who can save, and if 
 His wisdom does not will my expected union, I 
 
174 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 know He will give me strength to bear my lot. 
 Amuse yourself with this little book, and take it as 
 an apology for my silence,' said Ambuhnia, ^ while 
 I attempt to answer this volume of consolation.' 
 'Thank you; said Louisa, 'you are excusable upon 
 this occasion ; but I pray you, Ambuhnia, to be 
 expert upon this momentous subject, that there 
 may be nothing mistrustful upon my part.' a 
 will,' said Ambulinia, and immediately resumed 
 her seat and addressed the following to Elfonzo 
 
 'Gumming, Ga., January 28, 1844. 
 
 ' Devoted Elfonzo, — 
 
 ^ a hail your letter as a welcome messenger of 
 faith, and can now say truly and firmly, that my 
 feelings correspond with yours. Nothing shall be 
 wanting on my part to make my obedience your 
 fidelity. Courage and perseverance will accomphsh 
 success. Eeceive this as my oath, that while I 
 grasp your hand in my own imagination, we stand 
 united before a higher tribunal than any on earth. 
 All the powers of my hfe, soul, and body, I devote 
 to thee. Whatever dangers may threaten me, I 
 fear not to encounter them. Perhaps I have 
 determined upon my own destruction, by leaving 
 the house of the best of parents ; be it so, I flee to 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 175 
 
 you, I sliare your destiny, faithful to the end. The 
 day' that I have concluded upon for this task is 
 Sahhath next, when the family with the citizens 
 are generally at church. For Heaven's sake let 
 not that day pass unimproved : trust not till to- 
 morrow, it is the cheat of life-the future that 
 never comes-the grave of many noble births-the 
 cavern of ruined enterprise: which like the light- 
 ning's flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the 
 voice of him who sees can cxj, Behold/ behold/.' 
 You may trust to what I say ; no power shall tempt 
 me to betray confidence. Suffer me to add one 
 word more. 
 
 I will soothe thee, in all thy grief, 
 
 Beside the gloomy river : 
 And though thy love may yet be brief, 
 
 Mine is fixed for ever. 
 
 * Receive the deepest emotions of my heart for 
 thy constant love, and may the power of inspiration 
 be thy guide, thy portion, and thy all. In great 
 haste, 'Yours faithfully, 
 
 « Ambulinia.' 
 
 « I now take my leave of you, sweet girl,' said 
 Louisa, ^sincerely wishing you success on Sabbath 
 next.' When Ambulinia's letter was handed to 
 Elfonzo, he perused it without doubting its 
 
176 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 contents. Louisa charged him to make but few 
 confidants; but, hke most young men who 
 happened to win the heart of a beautiful girl, he 
 was so elated with the idea, that he felt as a com- 
 manding general on parade, who had confidence in 
 all, consequently gave orders to all. The ap- 
 pointed Sabbath, with a delicious breeze and 
 cloudless sky, made its appearance. The people 
 gathered in crowds to the church— the streets were 
 filled with the neighbouring citizens, all marching 
 to the house of worship. It is entirely useless for 
 me to attempt to describe the feelings of Elfonzo 
 and Ambulinia, who were silently watching the 
 movements of the multitude, apparently counting 
 them as they entered the house of God, looking for 
 the last one to darken the door. The impatience 
 and anxiety wath which they waited, and the 
 bhss they anticipated on the eventful day, is alto- 
 gether indescribable. Those that have been so 
 fortunate as to embark in such a noble enterprise, 
 know all its realities ; and those who have not had 
 this inestimable privilege, will have to taste its 
 sweets, before they can tell to others its joys, its 
 comforts, and its Heaven-born worth. Immediately 
 after AmbuHnia had assisted the family off to 
 church, she took the advantage of that oppor- 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT ill 
 
 tunity to make good her promises. She left a 
 home of enjoyment to be wedded to one whose 
 love had been justifiable. A few short steps brought 
 her to the presence of Louisa, who urged her to 
 make good use of her time, and not to delay a 
 moment, but to go with her to her brother's house, 
 where Elfonzo would for ever make her happy. 
 "With lively speed, and yet a graceful air, she 
 entered the door and found herself protected by 
 the champion of her confidence. The necessary 
 arrangem-ents were fast making to have the two 
 lovers united— everything was in readiness except 
 the Parson ; and as they are generally very sancti- 
 monious on such occasions, the news got to the 
 parents of Ambulinia before the everlasting knot 
 was tied, and they both came running, with up- 
 lifted hands and injured feelings, to arrest their 
 daughter from an unguarded and hasty resolution. 
 Elfonzo desired to maintain his ground, but 
 Ambulinia thought it best for him to leave, to 
 prepare for a greater contest. He accordingly 
 obeyed, as it would have been a vain endeavour 
 for him to have battled against a man who was 
 armed with deadly weapons ; and, besides, he could 
 not resist the request of such a pure heart. 
 Ambulinia concealed herself in the upper story of 
 
 N 
 
178 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 the house, fearing the rebuke of her father ; the 
 door was locked, and no chastisement was now 
 expected. Squire Valeer, whose pride was akeady 
 touched, resolved to preserve the dignity of his 
 family. He entered the house almost exhausted, 
 looking wildly for Ambulinia. 'Amazed and 
 astonished indeed I am,' said he, ' at a people who 
 call themselves civiHsed, to allow such behaviour as 
 this. Ambulinia, Ambulinia ! ' he cried, ' come to 
 the calls of your first, your best, and your only 
 friend. I appeal to you, sir,' turning to the gentle- 
 man of the house, 'to know where Ambuhnia has 
 gone, or where is she ? ' 'Do you mean to insult 
 me, sir, in my own house ? ' inquired the con- 
 founded gentleman. ' I . will burst,' said Mr. V., 
 ' asunder every door in your dwelling, in search of 
 my daughter, if you do not speak quickly, and tell 
 me where she is. I care nothing about that outcast 
 rubbish of creation, that mean, low-lived Elfonzo, if 
 I can but obtain Ambulinia ! Are you not going 
 to open this door ? ' said he. 'By the Eternal that 
 made heaven and earth ! I will go about the work 
 instantly, if it is not done.' The confused citizens 
 gathered from all parts of the village to know 
 the cause of this commotion. Some rushed into 
 the house; the door that was locked flew open, and 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 179 
 
 there stood Ambulinia, weeping. * Father, be still,' 
 said she, * and I will follow thee home.' But the 
 agitated man seized her, and bore her off through 
 the gazing multitude. ' Father,' she exclaimed, * I 
 humbly beg your pardon — I will be dutiful — I will 
 obey thy commands. Let the sixteen years I have 
 lived in obedience to thee be my future security.' 
 
 * I don't like to be always giving credit, when the 
 old score is not paid up, madam,' said the father. 
 The mother followed almost in a state of derange- 
 ment, crying and imploring her to think before- 
 hand, and ask advice from experienced persons, 
 and they wo Jd tell her it was a rash undertaking. 
 
 * Oh ! ' said she, * Ambulinia, my daughter, did 
 you know what I have suffered — did you know how 
 many nights I have whiled away in agony, in pain, 
 and in fear, you would pity the sorrows of a heart- 
 broken mother.' 
 
 * Well, mother,' replied Ambulinia, ' I know I 
 have been disobedient; I am aware that what I 
 have done might have been done much better; 
 but oh ! what shall I do with my honour ? it is so 
 dear to me ; I am pledged to Elfonzo. His high 
 moral worth is certainly worth some attention; 
 moreover, my vows, I have no doubt, are recorded 
 in the book of life, and must I give these all up ? 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 must my fair hopes be for ever blasted ? Forbid it, 
 father ; oh ! forbid it, mother ; forbid it, heaven.' 
 ' I have seen so many beautiful skies overclouded/ 
 replied the mother, ' so many blossoms nipped by 
 the frost, that I am afraid to trust you to the care 
 of those fair days, which may be interrupted by 
 thundering and tempestuous nights. You no doubt 
 think as I did— hfe's devious ways were strewed 
 with sweet-scented flowers ; but ah ! how long they 
 have lingered around me and took their flight in 
 the vivid hope that laughs at the drooping victims 
 it has murdered.' Elfonzo was moved at this sight. 
 The people followed on to see what was going to 
 become of Ambulinia, while he, with downcast 
 looks, kept at a distance, until he saw them enter 
 the abode of the father, thrusting her, that was the 
 sigh of his soul, out of his presence into a solitary 
 apartment, when she exclaimed, ' Elfonzo ! El- 
 fonzo ! oh, Elfonzo ! where art thou, with all thy 
 heroes ? haste, oh ! haste, come thou to my relief. 
 Bide on the wings of the wind ! Turn thy force 
 loose like a tempest, and roll on thy army like a 
 whirlwind over this mountain of trouble and con- 
 fusion. Oh, friends ! if any pity me, let your last 
 efforts throng upon the green hills, and come to the 
 rehef of Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing but 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT i8i 
 
 innocent love.' Elfonzo called out with a loud 
 voice, ' My God, can I stand this ? Arouse up, I 
 beseech you, and put an end to this tyranny. 
 Come, my brave boys,' said he, ' are you ready to 
 go forth to your duty ? ' They stood around him. 
 ' Who,' said he, * will call us to arms ? Where are 
 my thunderbolts of war ? Speak ye, the first who 
 will meet the foe ! Who will go forward with me 
 in this ocean of grievous temptation ? If there is 
 one who desires to go, let him come and shake 
 hands upon the altar of devotion, and swear that 
 he will be a hero ; yes, a Hector in a cause like 
 this, which calls aloud for a speedy remedy.' 
 *Mine be the deed,' said a young lawyer, * and mine 
 alone ; Venus alone shall quit her station before I 
 will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you ; 
 what is death to me? what is all this warlike 
 army, if it is not to win a victory? I love the 
 sleep of the lover and the mighty ; nor would I give 
 it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak 
 with that of my own. But God forbid that our 
 fame should soar on the blood of the slumberer.' 
 Mr. Valeer stands at his door with the frown of a 
 demon upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon 
 ready to strike the first man who should enter his 
 door. 'Who will arise and go forward through 
 
iS2 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 blood and carnage to the rescue of my Ambulinia?' 
 said Elfonzo. ' All,' exclaimed the multitude ; and 
 onward they went, with their implements of battle. 
 Others, of a more timid nature, stood among the 
 distant hills to see the result of the contest. 
 
 Elfonzo took the lead of his band. Night arose 
 in clouds ; darkness concealed the heavens ; but 
 the blazing hopes that stimulated them gleamed in 
 every bosom. All approached the anxious spot; 
 they rushed to the front of the house, and with one 
 exclamation demanded AmbuKnia. ' Away, begone, 
 and disturb my peace no more,' said Mr. Valeer. 
 'You are a set of base, insolent, and infernal 
 rascals. Go, the northern star points your path 
 through the dim twilight of the night ; go, and 
 vent your spite upon the lonely hills ; pour forth 
 your love, you poor, weak-minded wretch, upon 
 your idleness and upon your guitar, and your 
 fiddle ; they are fit subjects for your admiration, 
 for, let me assure you, though this sword and iron 
 lever are cankered, yet they frown in sleep, and let 
 one of you dare to enter my house this night and 
 you shall have the contents and the weight of 
 these instruments.' 'Never yet did base dis- 
 honour blur my name,' said Elfonzo; * mine is a 
 cause of renown ; here are my warriors, fear and 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 183 
 
 tremble, for this night, though hell itself should 
 oppose, I wiU endeavour to avenge her whom thou 
 hast banished in solitude. The voice of Ambulinia 
 shall be heard from that dark dungeon.' At that 
 moment Ambulinia appeared at the window above, 
 and with a tremulous voice said, 'Live, Elfonzo ! 
 oh ! live to raise my stone of moss ! why should 
 such language enter your heart? why should thy 
 voice rend the air with such agitation ? I bid thee 
 live, once more remembering these tears of mine 
 are shed alone for thee, in this dark and gloomy 
 vault, and should I perish under this load of 
 trouble, join the song of thrilling accents with the 
 raven above my grave, and lay this tattered frame 
 beside the banks of the Chattahoochee, or the 
 stream of Sawney's brook; sweet will be the song 
 of death to your Ambulinia. My ghost shall visit 
 you in the smiles of Paradise, and tell your high 
 fame to the minds of that region, which is far more 
 preferable than this lonely cell. My heart shall 
 speak for thee till the latest hour; I know faint 
 and broken are the sounds of sorrow, yet our souls, 
 Elfonzo, shall hear the peaceful songs together. 
 One bright name shall be ours on high, if we are 
 not permitted to be united here ; bear in mind that 
 I still cherish my old sentiments, and the poet will 
 
184 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 mingle the names of Elfonzo and Ambulinia in the 
 tide of other days.' < Fly, Elfonzo/ said the voices 
 of his united band, 'to the wounded heart of your 
 beloved. All enemies shall fall beneath thy sword 
 Fly through the clefts, and the dim spark shall 
 Bleep in death.' Elfonzo rushes forward and strikes 
 his shield against the door, which was barricaded 
 to prevent any intercourse. His brave sons throng 
 round him. The people pour along the streets, 
 both male and female, to prevent or witness the 
 melancholy scene. 
 
 _ 'To arms, to arms! ' cried Elfonzo, 'here is a 
 victory to be won, a prize to be gained, that is 
 more to me than the whole world beside.' 'It 
 cannot be done to-night,' said Mr. Valeer. ' I bear 
 the clang of death; my strength and armour shall 
 prevail. My Ambulinia shall rest in this hall 
 until the break of another day, and if we fall, we 
 a together. If we die, we die clinging to our 
 tattered rights, and our blood alone shall tell the 
 mournful tale of a murdered daughter and a ruined 
 father.' Sure enough, he kept watch all night, and 
 was successful in defending his house and family 
 The bright morning gleamed upon the hills, night 
 vanished away, the Major and his associates felt 
 somewhat ashamed that they had not been as 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 185. 
 
 fortunate as they expected to have been ; however, 
 they still leaned upon their arms in dispersed 
 groups; some were walking the streets, others 
 were talking in the Major's behalf. Many of the 
 citizens suspended business, as the town presented 
 nothing but consternation. A novelty that might 
 end in the destruction of some worthy and respect- 
 able citizens. Mr. Valeer ventured in the streets, 
 though not without being well armed. Some of 
 his friends congratulated him on the decided stand 
 he had taken, and hoped he would settle the matter 
 amicably with Elfonzo, without any serious injury. 
 * Me,' he replied, * what, me, condescend to fellow- 
 ship with a coward, and a low-lived, lazy, under- 
 mining villain? No, gentlemen, this cannot be; 
 I had rather be borne off, like the bubble upon the 
 dark blue ocean, with Ambulinia by my side, than 
 to have him in the ascending or descending line of 
 relationship. Gentlemen,' continued he, ' if Elfonzo 
 is so much of a distinguished character, and is so 
 learned in the fine arts, why do you not patronise 
 such men? why not introduce him into your 
 famihes as a gentleman of taste and of unequalled 
 magnanimity ? why are you so very anxious that 
 he should become a relative of mine ? Oh, gentle- 
 men, I fear you yet are tainted with the curiosity 
 
iS6 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 of our first parents, who were beguiled by the poi- 
 sonous kiss of an old ugly serpent, and who, for 
 one ai^i[)le, damned all mankind. I wish to divest 
 myself, as far as possible, of that untutored custom. 
 I have long since learned that the perfection of 
 wisdom and the end of true philosophy is to pro- 
 portion our wants to our possessions, our ambition 
 to our capacities ; we will then be a happy and a 
 virtuous people.' Ambulinia was sent off to prepare 
 for a long and tedious journey. Her new ac- 
 quaintances had been instructed by her father how 
 to treat her, and in what manner, and to keep the 
 anticipated visit entirely secret. Elfonzo was 
 watching the movements of everybody; some friends 
 had told him of the plot that was laid to carry off 
 Ambulinia. At night, he ralHed some two or three 
 of his forces, and went silently along to the stately 
 mansion; a faint and glimmering light showed 
 through the windows ; Hghtly he steps to the door, 
 there were many voices rallying fresh in fancy's 
 eye ; he tapped the shutter, it was opened instantly, 
 and he beheld once more, seated beside several 
 ladies, the hope of all his toils ; he rushed towards 
 her, she rose from her seat, rejoicing: he made one 
 mighty grasp, when Ambuhnia exclaimed, ' Huzza 
 for Major Elfonzo ! I will defend myself and you, 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 187 
 
 too, with this conquering instrument I hold in my 
 hand; huzza, I say, I now invoke time's broad 
 wing to shed around us some dewdrops of verdant 
 spring.' 
 
 But the hour had not come for this joyous re- 
 union ; her friends struggled with Elfonzo for some 
 time, and finally succeeded in arresting her from 
 his hands. He dared not injure them, because 
 they were matrons whose courage needed no spur ; 
 she was snatched from the arms of Eifonzo, with 
 so much eagerness and yet with such expressive 
 signification, that he calmly withdrew from this 
 lovely enterprise, with an ardent hope that he 
 should be lulled to repose by the zephyrs which 
 whispered peace to his soul. Several long days 
 and nights passed unmolested, all seemed to have 
 grounded their arms of rebellion, and no caUidity 
 appeared to be going on with any of the parties. 
 Other arrangements were made by AmbuHnia ; she 
 feigned herself to be entirely the votary of a mother's 
 care, and said, by her graceful smiles, that man- 
 hood might claim his stern dominion in some other 
 region, where such boisterous love was not so pre- 
 valent. This gave the parents a confidence that 
 yielded some hours of sober joy ; they believed that 
 Ambulinia would now cease to love Elfonzo, and 
 
1 88 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 that her stolen affections would now expire with 
 her misguided opinions. They therefore declined 
 the idea of sending her to a distant land. But oh ! 
 they dreamed not of the rapture that dazzled the 
 fancy of Ambulinia, who would say, when alone, 
 youth should not fly away on his rosy pinions, and 
 leave her to grapple in the conflict with unknown 
 admirers. 
 
 No frowning age shall control 
 The constant current of my soul, 
 Nor a tear from pity's eye 
 Shall check my sympathetic sigh. 
 
 With this resolution fixed in her mind, one dark 
 and dreary night, when the winds whistled and the 
 tempest roared, she received intelligence that 
 Elfonzo was then waiting, and every preparation 
 was then ready, at the residence of Dr. Tully, and 
 for her to make a quick escape while the family 
 were reposing. Accordingly she gathered her 
 books, went to the wardrobe supplied with a variety 
 of ornamental dressing, and ventured alone in the 
 streets to make her way to Elfonzo, who was near 
 at hand, impatiently lookmg and watching her 
 arrival. ' What forms,' said she, * are those rising 
 before me ? What is that dark spot on the clouds? 
 I do wonder what frightful ghost that is, gleaming 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 189 
 
 on the red tempest ? Oh, be merciful and tell me 
 what region you are from. Oh tell me, ye strong 
 spirits, or ye dark and fleeting clouds, that I yet 
 have a friend.' ' A friend,' said a low, whispering 
 voice. ' I am thy unchanging, thy aged, and thy 
 disappointed mother. Oh, Ambulinia, why hast 
 thou deceived me ? Why brandish in that hand 
 of thine a javelin of pointed steel? Why 
 suffer that lip I have kissed a thousand times, to 
 equivocate? My daughter, let these tears sink 
 deep into thy soul, and no longer persist in that 
 w^hich may be your destruction and ruin. Come, 
 my dear child, retrace your steps, and bear me 
 company to your welcome home.' Without one 
 retorting word, or frown from her brow, she yielded 
 to the entreaties of her mother, and with all the 
 mildness of her former character she went along 
 with the silver lamp of age, to the home of candour 
 and benevolence. Her father received her with cold 
 and formal politeness — ' Where has Ambulinia been, 
 this blustering evening, Mrs. Valeer ? ' inquired he. 
 * Oh, she and I have been taking a solitary walk,' 
 said the mother ; * all things, I presume, are now 
 working for the best.' 
 
 Elfonzo heard this news shortly after it hap- 
 pened. * What,' said he, * has heaven an^^. earth 
 
190 THE ENEMY CONQUERED; 
 
 turned against me ? I have been disappointed 
 times without number. Shall I despair ? Must I 
 give it over? Heaven's decrees will not fade; I 
 will wi-ite again— I wOl try again ; and if it traverses 
 a gory field, I pray forgiveness at the altar of 
 justice.' 
 
 ' Desolate Hill, Camming, Geo., lS4i. 
 
 'Unconquered and Beloved Ambulinia,— 
 
 ' I have only time to say to you, not to despair; 
 thy fame shall not perish ; my visions are bright- 
 ening before me. The whirlwind's rage is past.Ind 
 we now shall subdue our enemies without doubt. 
 On Monday morning, when your friends are at 
 breakfast, they will not suspect your departure, or 
 even mistrust me being in town, as it has been 
 reported advantageously that I have left for the 
 west. You walk carelessly towards the academy 
 grove, where you will find me with a lightning steed, 
 elegantly equipped to bear you off where we shall be 
 joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights. 
 Fail not to do this-think not of the tedious relating 
 of our wrongs-be invincible. You alone occupy 
 all my ambition, and I alone will make you my 
 bappy spouse, with the same unimpeached veracity. 
 I remain, for ever, your devoted friend and 
 
 'J. I. Elfonzo.' 
 
OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 191 
 
 The appointed day ushered in undisturbed by 
 any clouds; nothing disturbed Ambulinia's soft 
 beauty. With serenity and loveliness she obeys 
 the request of Elfonzo. The moment the family 
 seated themselves at the table— ' Excuse my 
 absence for a short time,' said she, ' while I attend 
 to the placing of those flowers which should have 
 been done a week ago.' And away she ran to the 
 sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls that 
 indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his 
 silver bow and his golden harp. They meet— 
 Ambulinia's countenance brightens— Elfonzo leads 
 up his winged steed. * Mount,' said he, 'ye true- 
 hearted, ye fearless soul— the day is ours.' She 
 sprang upon the back of the young thunderbolt, a 
 brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand 
 she grasps the reins, and with the other she holds 
 an olive branch. ' Lend thy aid, ye strong winds,' 
 they exclaimed ; ' ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair 
 host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered.' 
 ' Hold,' said Elfonzo, ' thy dashing steed.' ' Kide 
 on,' said Ambuhnia, Uhe voice of thunder is 
 behind us.' And onward they went, with such 
 rapidity that they very soon arrived at Eural 
 Eetreat, where they dismounted, and were united 
 with all the solemnities that usually attend such 
 
192 THE ENEMY CONQUERED. 
 
 divine operations. They passed the day in thanks- 
 giving and great rejoicing, and on that evening 
 they visited their uncle, where many of their friends 
 and acquaintances had gathered to congratulate 
 them in the field of untainted bliss. The kind old 
 gentleman met them in the yard : ' Well,' said he, 
 ' I wish I may die, Elfonzo, if you and Ambulinia 
 haven't tied a knot with your tongue that you can't 
 untie with your teeth. But come in, come in ; 
 never mind, all is right— the world still moves on, 
 and no one has fallen in this great battle.' 
 
 Happy now is their lot! Unmoved by mis- 
 fortune, they live among the fair beauties of the 
 South. Heaven spreads their peace and fame upon 
 the arch of the rainbow, and smiles propitiously at 
 their triumph, through the tears of the storm. 
 
X93 
 
 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 THE MODEBN STEAMER AND THE OBSOLETE STEAMER 
 
 We are victims of one common superstition— the 
 superstition that we realise the changes that are 
 daily taking place in the world because we read 
 about them and know what they are. I should not 
 have supposed that the modern ship could be a 
 surprise to me, but it is. It seems to be as much 
 of a surprise to me as it could have been if I had 
 never read anything about it. I walk about this 
 great vessel, the ' Havel,' as she ploughs her way 
 through the Atlantic, and every detail that comes 
 under my eye brings up the miniature counterpart 
 of it as it existed in the little ships I crossed the 
 ocean in, fourteen, seventeen, eighteen, and twenty 
 years ago. 
 
 In the * Havel ' one can be in several respects 
 more comfortable than he can be in the best hotels 
 on the Continent of Europe. For instance, she 
 
 0 
 
194 ABOUT ALL KLNDS OF SHIPS 
 
 has several bath-rooms, and they are as convenient 
 and as nicely equijoped as the bath-rooms in a fine 
 private house in America ; whereas in the hotels of 
 the Continent one bath- room is considered sufficient, 
 and it is generally shabby and located in some out- 
 of-the-way corner of the house ; moreover, you need 
 to give notice so long beforehand that you get over 
 wanting a bath by the time you get it. In the 
 hotels there are a good many different kinds of 
 noises, and they spoil sleep ; in my room in the 
 ship I hear no sounds. In the hotels they 
 usually shut off the electric light at midnight ; in 
 the ship one may burn it in one's room all night. 
 
 In the steamer * Batavia,' twenty years ago, one 
 candle set in the bulkhead between two state-rooms 
 was there to light both rooms, but did not light 
 either of them. It was extinguished at eleven at 
 night, and so were all the saloon lamps, except one 
 or two, which were left burning to help the pas- i 
 senger see how to break his neck trying to get 
 around in the dark. The passengers sat at table 
 on long benches made of the hardest kind of wood ; 
 in the * Havel ' one sits on a swivel chair with a 
 cushioned back to it. In those old times the din- 
 ner bill of fare was always the same : a pint of some 
 simple, homely soup or other, boiled codfish and 
 
ABOUT ALL KLNDS OF SHIPS 19S 
 
 potatoes, slab of boiled beef ; stewed prunes for des- 
 sert— on Sundays * dog in a blanket,' on Thursdays 
 *plum duff.' In the modern ship the menu is 
 choice and elaborate, and is changed daily. In the 
 old times dinner was a sad occasion ; in our day a 
 concealed orchestra enlivens it with charming music. 
 In the old days the decks were always wet ; in our 
 day they are usually dry, for the promenade-deck is 
 roofed over, and a sea seldom comes aboard. In a 
 moderately disturbed sea, in the old days, a lands- 
 man could hardly keep his legs, but in such a sea 
 in our day, the decks are as level as a table. In 
 the old days the inside of a ship was the plainest 
 and barrenest thing, and the most dismal and un- 
 comfortable, that ingenuity could devise ; the modern 
 ship is a marvel of rich and costly decoration and 
 sumptuous appointment, and is equipped with every 
 comfort and convenience that money can buy. The 
 old ships had no place of assembly but the dining- 
 room; the new ones h^ve several spacious and 
 beautiful drawing-rooms. The old ships offered 
 the passenger no chance to smoke except in the 
 place that was called the * fiddle.' It was a repul- 
 sive den made of rough boards (full of cracks), and 
 its office was to protect the main hatch. It was 
 grimy and dirty ; there were no seats ; the only 
 
 o 2 
 
196 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 light was a lamp of the rancid-oil-ancl-rag kmd ; 
 the place was very cold, and never dry, for the seas 
 broke in through the cracks every little while and 
 drenched the cavern thoroughly. In the modern 
 ship there are three or four large smoking-rooms, 
 and they have card tables and cushioned sofas, and 
 are heated by steam and lighted by electricity. 
 There are few European hotels with such smoking- 
 rooms. 
 
 The former ships were built of wood, and had 
 two or three water-tight compartments in the hold 
 with doors in them, which were often left open, par- 
 ticularly when the ship was going to hit a rock. 
 The modern leviathan is built of steel, and the water- 
 tight bulkheads have no doors in them ; they divide 
 the ship into nine or ten water-tight compartments 
 and endow her with as many lives as a cat. Their 
 complete efficiency was established by the happy 
 results following the memorable accident to the 
 ' City of Paris ' a year or two ago. 
 
 One curious thing which is at once noticeable in 
 the great modern ship is the absence of hubbub, 
 clatter, rush of feet, roaring of orders. That is all 
 gone by. The elaborate manoeuvres necessary in 
 working the vessel into her dock are conducted 
 without sound : one sees nothing of the processes, 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 197 
 
 hears no commands. A Sabbath stillness and so- 
 lemnity reign in place of the turmoil and racket of 
 the earlier days. The modern ship has a spacious 
 bridge, fenced chin-high with sail-cloth, and floored 
 with wooden gratings ; and this bridge, with its 
 fenced fore-and-aft annexes, could accommodate a 
 seated audience of a hundred and fifty men. There 
 are three steering equipments, each competent if 
 the others should break. From the bridge the 
 ship is steered, and also handled. The handling is 
 not done by shout or whistle, but by signalling with 
 patent automatic gongs. There are three tell-tales 
 with plainly lettered dials — for steering, handling 
 the engines, and for communicating orders to the 
 invisible mates who are conducting the landing of 
 the ship or casting off. The officer who is astern is 
 out of sight, and too far away to hear trumpet 
 calls ; but the gongs near him tell him to haul in, 
 pay out, make fast, let go, and so on ; he hears, but 
 the passengers do not, and so the ship seems to land 
 herself without human help. 
 
 This great bridge is thirty or forty feet above the 
 water, but the sea climbs up there sometimes ; so 
 there is another bridge twelve or fifteen feet higher 
 still, for use in these emergencies. The force of water 
 is a strange thing. It slips between one's fingers like 
 
198 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 air, but upon occasion it acts like a solid body, and 
 will bend a thin iron rod. In the 'Havel ' it has 
 splintered a heavy oaken rail into broom-straws, 
 instead of merely breaking it in two as would have 
 been the seemingly natural thing for it to do. At 
 the time of the awful Johnstown disaster, according 
 to the testimony of several witnesses, rocks were 
 carried some distance on the surface of the stupen- 
 dous torrent ; and at St. Helena, many years ago, a 
 vast sea-wave carried a battery of cannon forty feet 
 up a steep slope, and deposited the guns there in a 
 row. But the water has done a still stranger thing, 
 and it is one which is credibly vouched for. A 
 marlinspike is an implement about a foot lon<]f 
 which tapers from its butt to the other extremity, 
 and ends in a sharp point. It is made of iron, and 
 is heavy. A wave came aboard a ship in a storm 
 and raged aft, breast high, carrying a marlinspike 
 point-first with it, and with such lightning-like 
 swiftness and force as to drive it three or four 
 inches into a sailor's body and kill him. 
 
 In all ways the ocean greyhound of to-day is 
 imposing and impressive to one who carries in his 
 head no ship-picturcs of a recent date. In bulk 
 she comes near to rivalling the Ark; yet this 
 monstrous mass of steel is driven five hundred miles 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 199 
 
 through the waves in twenty-four hours. I re- 
 member the brag run of a steamer which I travelled 
 in once on the Pacific — it was two hundred and 
 nine miles in twenty-four hours; a year or so 
 later I was a passenger in the excursion-tub 
 * Quaker City/ and on one occasion, in a level and 
 glassy sea, it was claimed that she reeled off two 
 hundred and eleven miles between noon and noon, 
 but it was probably a campaign lie. That little 
 steamer had seventy passengers and a crew of 
 forty men, and seemed a good deal of a bee- hive ; 
 but in this present ship we are living in a sort of 
 solitude, these soft summer days, with sometimes a 
 hundred passengers scattered about the spacious 
 distances, and sometimes nobody in sight at all; 
 yet, hidden somewhere in the vessel's bulk, there 
 are (including crew) near eleven hundred people. 
 
 The stateliest lines in the literature of the sea 
 are these : 
 
 Britannia needs no bulwark, no towers along the steep — 
 Her march is o'er the mountain wave, her home is on the 
 deep 1 
 
 There it is. In those old times the little ships - 
 climbed over the waves and wallowed down into 
 the trough on the other side ; the giant ship of our 
 day does not climb over the waves, but crushes her 
 
200 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 way through them. Her formidable weight and 
 mass and impetus give her mastery over any but 
 extraordinary storm-waves. 
 
 The ingenuity of man ! I mean in this passing 
 generation. To-day I found in the chart-room a 
 frame of removable wooden slats on the wall, and 
 on the slats was painted uninforming information 
 like this : 
 
 Trim-Tank .... Empty 
 
 Double-Bottom No. 1 , , Full 
 
 Double-Bottom No. 2 . , Full 
 
 Double-Bottom No. 3 , , Full 
 
 Double-Bottom No. 4 , , Full 
 
 While I was trying to think out what kmd of a 
 game this might be, and how a stranger might best 
 go to work to beat it, a sailor came in and pulled 
 out the * Empty ' end of the first slat and put it 
 back with its reverse side to the front, marked 
 'Full.' He made some other change, I did not 
 notice what. The slat-frame was soon explained. 
 Its function was to indicate how the ballast in the 
 ship was distributed. The striking thing was, that 
 that ballast was water. I did not know that a ship 
 had ever been ballasted with water. I had merely 
 read, some time or other, that such an experiment 
 was to be tried. But that is the modern way ; be- 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 201 
 
 fcween the experimental trial of a new thing and its 
 adoption there is no wasted time, if the trial proves 
 its value. 
 
 On the wall, near the slat-frame, there was an 
 outline drawing of the ship, and this betrayed the 
 fact that this vessel has twenty-two considerable 
 lakes of water in her. These lakes are in her bot- 
 tom ; they are imprisoned between her real bottom 
 and a false bottom. They are separated from each 
 other, thwartships, by water-tight bulkheads, and 
 separated down the middle by a bulkhead running 
 from the bow four-fifths of the way to the stern. It 
 is a chain of lakes four hundred feet long and from 
 five to seven feet deep. Fourteen of the lakes con- 
 tain fresh water brought from shore, and the aggre- 
 gate weight of it is four hundred tons. The rest 
 of the lakes contain salt water — six hundred and 
 eighteen tons. Upwards of a thousand tons of 
 water altogether. 
 
 Think how handy this ballast is. The ship 
 leaves port with the lakes all full. As she lightens 
 forward, through consumption of coal, she loses 
 trim — her head rises, her stern sinks down. Then 
 they spill one of the sternward lakes into the sea, 
 and the trim is restored. This can be repeated 
 right along as occasion may require. Also, a lake 
 
202 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 at one end of the ship can be moved to the other 
 end by pipes and steam pumps. When the sailor 
 changed the slat-frame to-day, he was posting a 
 transference of that kind. The seas had been in- 
 creasing, and the vessel's head needed more 
 weighting, to keep it from rising on the waves 
 instead of ploughing through them; therefore, 
 twenty-five tons of water had been transferred to 
 the bow from a lake situated well towards the stern. 
 
 A water compartment is kept either full or 
 empty. The body of water must be compact, so 
 that it cannot slosh around. A shifting ballast 
 would not do, of course. 
 
 The modern ship is full of beautiful ingenuities, 
 but it seems to me that this one is the king. I would 
 rather be the originator of that idea than of any of 
 the others. Perhaps the trim of a ship was never 
 perfectly ordered and preserved until now. A ves- 
 sel out of trim wiU not steer, her speed is maimed, 
 she strains and labours in the seas. Poor creature ! 
 for six thousand years she has had no comfort until 
 these latest days. For six thousand years she swam 
 through the best and cheapest ballast in the world, 
 the only perfect ballast, but she couldn't tell her 
 master, and he had not the wit to find it out for 
 himself. It is odd to reflect that there is nearly as 
 
ABOm ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 203 
 much water inside of this ship as there is outside, 
 and yet there is no danger. 
 
 noah's ark 
 
 The progress made in the great art of ship-build- 
 ing since Noah's time is quite noticeable. Also, the 
 looseness of the navigation laws in the time of Noah 
 is in quite striking contrast with the strictness of 
 the navigation laws of our time. It would not be 
 possible for Noah to do in our day what he was per- 
 mitted to do in his own. Experience has taught us 
 the necessity of being more particular, more con- 
 servative, more careful of human life. Noah would 
 not be allowed to sail from Bremen in our day. 
 The inspectors would come and examine the Ark, 
 and make all sorts of objections. A person who 
 knows Germany can imagine the scene and the 
 conversation without difficulty and without missing 
 a detail. The inspector would be in a beautiful 
 military uniform ; he would be respectful, dignified, 
 kindly, the perfect gentleman, but steady as the 
 north star to the last requirement of his duty. He 
 would make Noah tell him where he was born, and 
 how old he was, and what rehgious sect he belonged 
 to, and the amount of his income, and the grade 
 
204 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 and position he claimed socially, and the name and 
 style of his occupation, and how many wives and 
 children he had, and how many servants, and the 
 name, sex, and age of the whole of them ; and if he 
 hadn't a passport he would be courteously required 
 to get one right away. Then he would take up the 
 matter of the Ark : 
 
 ' What is her length ? ' 
 
 ' Six hundred feet.' 
 
 ' Depth ? ' 
 
 ' Sixty-five.' 
 
 ' Beam ? ' 
 
 ' Fifty or sixty.* 
 
 * Built of » 
 
 ' Wood.' 
 
 ' What kind ? * 
 
 ' Shittim and gopher.* 
 
 'Interior and exterior decorations?' 
 
 ' Pitched within and without. 
 
 * Passengers ? ' 
 'Eight.' 
 
 ' Sex ? ' 
 
 'Half male, the others female.' 
 ' Ages ? ' 
 
 ' From a hundred years up.' 
 ' Up to where ? ' 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 205 
 
 * Six hundred.' 
 
 « Ah ! gomg to Chicago ; good idea, too. Sur- 
 geon's name ? ' 
 
 * We have no surgeon.' 
 
 * Must provide a surgeon. Also an undertaker 
 —particularly the undertaker. These people must 
 not be left without the necessities of life at their age. 
 
 Crew ? ' 
 
 * The same eight.' 
 
 * The same eight ? ' 
 
 * The same eight.' 
 
 * And half of them women ? * 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 * Have they ever served as seamen ? ' 
 
 * No, sir.' 
 
 * Have the men ? ' 
 
 * No, sir.' 
 
 ' Have any of you ever been to sea ? ' 
 
 * No, sir.' 
 
 * Where were you reared ? ' 
 
 * On a farm— all of us.' 
 
 * This vessel requires a crew of eight hundred 
 men, she not being a steamer. You must provide 
 them. She must have four mates and nine cooks. 
 Who is captain ? ' 
 
 * I am, sir.' 
 
2c6 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 ' You must get a captain. Also a chambermaid. 
 Also sick nurses for the old people. "W- ho designed 
 this vessel ? ' 
 
 a did, sir.' 
 
 * Is it your first attempt ? * 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' I partly suspected it. Cargo ? • 
 'Animals.' 
 
 * Kind ? ' 
 
 ' All kinds.' 
 'Wild or tame?' 
 ' Mainly wild.' 
 
 * Foreign or domestic ? * 
 ' Mainly foreign.' 
 
 * Principal wild ones ? ' 
 
 ' Megatherium, elephant, rhinoceros, lion, tiger, 
 wolf, snakes— all the wild things of all climes— two 
 of each.' 
 
 * Securely caged ? ' 
 
 * No, not caged.' 
 
 * They must have iron cages. Who feeds and 
 waters the menagerie ? ' 
 
 'We do.' 
 
 ' The old people ? ' 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 * It is dangerous— for both. The animals must 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 207 
 
 be cared for by a competent force. How many ani- 
 mals are there ? ' 
 
 ' Big ones, seven thousand ; big and little to- 
 gether, ninety-eight thousand.' 
 
 'You must provide twelve hundred keepers. How 
 is the vessel lighted ? ' 
 
 ' By two windows.' 
 
 * Where are they ? ' 
 
 * Up under the eaves.' 
 
 * Two windows for a tunnel six hundred feet long 
 and sixty-five feet deep ? You must put in the elec- 
 tric light— a few arc lights and fifteen hundred in- 
 candescents. What do you do in case of leaks? 
 How many pumps have you ? ' 
 
 * None, sir.' 
 
 *You must provide pumps. How do you get 
 water for the passengers and the animals ? ' 
 « We let down the buckets from the windows.' 
 
 * It is inadequate. What is your motive power ? ' 
 
 * What is my which ? ' 
 
 * Motive power. What power do you use in 
 driving the ship ? ' 
 
 ' None.' 
 
 < You must provide sails or steam. "Wliat is the 
 nature of your steering apparatus ? ' 
 
 * W^e haven't any.' 
 
2o3 ABOUT ALL KLNDS OF SHIPS 
 
 * Haven't you a rudder ? ' 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 * How do you steer the vessel ? * 
 ' We don't.' 
 
 * You must provide a rudder, and properly equip 
 it. How many anchors have you ? ' 
 
 'None.' 
 
 * You must provide six. One is not permitted to 
 sail a vessel like this without that protection. How 
 many life-boats have you ? ' 
 
 * None, sir.' 
 
 * Provide twenty-five. How many hfe-pre- 
 servers ? ' 
 
 * None.' 
 
 * You will provide two thousand. How long are 
 you expecting your voyage to last ? ' 
 
 * Eleven or twelve months.' 
 
 * Eleven or twelve months. Pretty slow— but 
 you will be in time for the Exj)osition. "What is your 
 ship sheathed with — copper ? ' 
 
 * Her hull is bare— not sheathed at all.' 
 
 ' Dear man, the wood-boring creatures of the 
 sea would riddle her like a sieve and send her to the 
 bottom in three months. She cannot be allowed to 
 go away in this condition ; she must be sheathed. 
 Just a word more : Have you reflected that Chicago 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 209 
 
 is an inland city, and not reachable with a vessel 
 like this ? ' 
 
 ' Shecargo ? What is Shecargo ? I am not going 
 to Shecargo.' 
 
 * Indeed ? Then may I ask what the animals 
 
 are for ? ' 
 
 ' Just to breed others from.' 
 
 * Others? Is it possible that you haven't 
 enough ? ' 
 
 * For the present needs of civilisation, yes ; but 
 the rest are going to be drowned in a flood, and 
 these are to renew the supply.' 
 
 * A flood?' 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 * Are you sure of that ? ' 
 
 'Perfectly sure. It is going to rain forty days 
 and forty nights.' 
 
 ' Give yourself no concern about that, dear sir, 
 it often does that here.' 
 
 ' Not this kind of rain. This is going to cover 
 the mountain-tops, and the earth will pass from 
 sight.' 
 
 ' Privately— but of course not officially— I am 
 sorry you revealed this, for it compels me to with- 
 draw the option I gave you as to sails or steam. I 
 must require you to use steam. Your ship cannot 
 
 p 
 
2IO ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 carry the hundredth part of an eleven-months' 
 water-supply for the animals. You will have to 
 have condensed water.' 
 
 * But I tell you I am going to dip water from 
 outside with buckets.' 
 
 ' It will not answer. Before the flood reaches the 
 mountain-tops the fresh waters will have joined the 
 salt seas, and it will all be salt. You must put in 
 steam and condense your water. I will now bid you 
 good-day, sir. Did I understand you to say that 
 this was your very first attempt at ship-building ? ' 
 
 * My very first, sir, I give you the honest truth. 
 I built this Ark without having ever had the slight- 
 est training or experience or instruction in marine 
 architecture.' 
 
 ' It is a remarkable work, sir, a most remarkable 
 work. I consider that it contains more features that 
 are new — absolutely new and unhackneyed — than 
 are to be found in any other vessel that swims the 
 seas.' 
 
 * This compliment does me infinite honour, 
 dear sir, infinite ; and I shall cherish the memory 
 of it while life shall last. Sir, I offer my duty, and 
 most grateful thanks. Adieu.' 
 
 No, the German inspector would be limitlessly 
 courteous to Noah, and would make him feel that 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 21. 
 he waB among friends, but he wouldn't let him go 
 to sea with that Ark. 
 
 Columbus's craft 
 Between Noah's time and the time of Columbus 
 naval architecture underwent some changes and 
 from being unspeakably bad was improved to a 
 point which may be described as less unspeakably 
 bad. I have read somewhere, some time or other, 
 that one of Columbus's ships was a nmety-ton 
 vessel. By comparing that ship with the ocean 
 greyhounds of our time one is able to get down to a 
 Comprehension of how small that Spanish bark was, 
 
 and how little fitted she would be to run opposition 
 in the Atlantic passenger trade to-day. It would 
 take seventy-four of her to match the tonnage 0 
 the 'Havel- and carry the 'Havel's' tnp. H I 
 remember rightly, it took her ten weeks to make 
 the passage. With our ideas this would now be 
 consLed an objectionable gait. She pi.bably 
 had a captain, a mate, and a crew consistmg of 
 four seamen and a boy. The crew of a modern 
 greyhound numbers two hundred and fifty persons. 
 
 Columbus's ship being smaU and very old we 
 toow that we may draw from these two facts 
 several absolute certainties in the way of mmor 
 
212 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 details which history has left unrecorded. For 
 instance, being small, we know that she rolled and 
 pitched and tumbled in any ordinary sea, and stood 
 on her head or her tail, or lay down with her ear 
 in the water, when storm- seas ran high ; also, that 
 she was used to having billows plunge aboard and 
 wash her decks from stem to stern ; also, that the 
 storm-racks were on the table all the way over, 
 and that, nevertheless, a man's soup was oftener 
 landed in his lap than in his stomach ; also, that 
 the dining-saloon was about ten feet by seven, dark, 
 airless, and suffocating with oil-stench ; also, that 
 there was only about one state-room — the size of a 
 grave— with a tier of two or three berths in it, of 
 the dimensions and comfortableness of coffins, and 
 that when the light was out, the darkness in there 
 was so thick and real that you could bite into it 
 and chew it like gum ; also, that the only pro- 
 menade was on the lofty poop-deck astern (for the 
 ship was shaped like a high-quarter shoe)— a 
 streak sixteen feet long by three feet wide, all the 
 rest of the vessel being Httered with ropes and 
 flooded by the seas. 
 
 We know all these things to be true, from the 
 mere fact that we know the vessel was small. As 
 the vessel was old, certain other truths follow as 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 213 
 
 matters of course. For instance, she was Ml of 
 rats, she was full of cockroaches, the heavy seas 
 made her seams open and shut like your fingers, 
 and she leaked like a basket; where leakage is, 
 there also, of necessity, is hilgewater ; and where 
 bilgewater is, only the dead can enjoy life. This 
 is on account of the smell. In the presence of 
 bilgewater, Limburger cheese becomes odourless 
 
 and ashamed. 
 
 From these absolutely sure data we can com- 
 petently picture the daily life of the great discoverer. 
 In the early morning he paid his devotions at the 
 Bhrine of the Virgin. At eight bells he appeared 
 on the poop-deck promenade. If the weather was 
 chilly, he came up clad from plumed helmet to 
 spurred heel in magnificent plate armour mlaid 
 with arabesques of gold, having previously warmed 
 it at the galley fire. If the weather was warm, he 
 came up in the ordinary sailor toggery of the time : 
 great slouch hat of blue velvet, with a flowing brush 
 of snowy ostrich plumes, fastened on with a flash- 
 ing cluster of diamonds and emeralds; gold- 
 embroidered doublet of green velvet, with slashed 
 sleeves exposmg under-sleeves of crimson satin; 
 deep collar and cuff-ruffles of rich limp lace ; trunk 
 hose of pink velvet, with big knee knots of brocaded 
 
214 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 yellow ribbon; pearl-tinted silk stockings, clocked 
 and daintily embroidered ; lemon-coloured buskins 
 of unborn kid, funnel-topped, and drooping low to 
 expose the pretty stockings ; deep gauntlets of 
 finest white heretic skin, from the factory of the 
 Holy Inquisition, formerly part of the person of a 
 lady of rank ; rapier with sheath crusted with 
 jewels, and hanging from a broad baldric upholstered 
 with rubies and sapphires. 
 
 He walked the promenade thoughtfully; he 
 noted the aspects of the sky and the course of the 
 wind ; he kept an eye out for drifting vegetation 
 and other signs of land ; he jawed the man at the 
 wheel for pastime; he got out an imitation egg 
 and kept himself in practice on his old trick of 
 making it stand on its end ; now and then he hove 
 a life-line below and fished up a sailor who was 
 drowning on the quarter-deck ; the rest of his 
 watch he gaped and yawned and stretched and 
 Baid he wouldn't make the trip again to discover 
 six Americas. For that was the kind of natural 
 human person Columbus was when not posing for 
 posterity. 
 
 At noon he took the sun and ascertained that 
 the good ship had made three hundred yards in 
 twenty-four hours, and this enabled him to win 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 215 
 
 the pool. Anybody can win the pool when nobody 
 but himself has the privilege of straightening out 
 the ship's run and getting it right. 
 
 The Admiral has breakfasted alone, in state : 
 bacon, beans, and gin ; at noon he dines alone in 
 state : bacon, beans, and gin ; at six he sups alone 
 in state: bacon, beans, and gin; at 11 p.m. he 
 takes a night relish, alone, in state : bacon, beans, 
 and gin. At none of these orgies is there any 
 music ; the ship-orchestra is modern. After his 
 final meal he returned thanks for his many blessings, 
 a little over-rating their value, perhaps, and then 
 he laid off his silken splendours or his gilded hard- 
 ware, and turned in, in his little coffin-bunk, and 
 blew out his flickering stencher, and began to re- 
 fresh his lungs with inverted sighs freighted with 
 the rich odours of rancid oil and bilgewater. The 
 sighs returned as snores, and then the rats and the 
 cockroaches swarmed out in brigades and divisions 
 and army corps and had a circus all over him. 
 Such was the daily life of the great discoverer in 
 his marine basket during several historic weeks ; 
 and the difference between his ship and his 
 comforts and ours is visible almost at a glance. 
 
 When he returned, the King of Spain, marvel- 
 ling, said— as history records : 
 
2i6 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 * This ship seems to be leaky. Did she leak 
 badly?' 
 
 'You shall judge for yourself, sire. I puniped 
 the Atlantic Ocean through her sixteen times on the 
 passage.' 
 
 This is General Horace Porter's account. Other 
 authorities say fifteen. 
 
 It can be shown that the differences between 
 that ship and the one I am writing these historical 
 contributions in, are in several respects remarkable. 
 Take the matter of decoration, for instance. I 
 have been looking around again, yesterday and to- 
 day, and have noted several details which I con- 
 ceive to have been absent from Columbus's ship, or 
 at least slurred over and not elaborated and per- 
 fected. I observe state-room doors three inches 
 thick, of solid oak, and polished. I note com- 
 panionway vestibules with walls, doors, and ceilings 
 panelled in polished hard-woods, some light, some 
 dark, all dainty and delicate joiner-work, and yet 
 every joint compact and tight ; with beautiful 
 pictures inserted, composed of blue tiles — some of 
 the pictures containing as many as sixty tiles — 
 and the joinings of those tiles perfect. These are 
 daring experiments. One would have said that 
 the first time the ship went straming and labour- 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 2i7 
 ing through a storm-tumbled sea those tiles would 
 gape apart and drop out. That they have not 
 done so is evidence that the joiner's art has 
 advanced a good deal since the days when ships 
 were so shaekly that when a giant sea gave them a 
 wench the doors came unbolted. I find the walls 
 of the dining-saloon upholstered with mellow pic- 
 tures wrought in tapestry, and the ceiling aglow 
 with pictures done in oil. In other places of 
 assembly I find great panels filled with embossed 
 Spanish leather, the figures rich with gilding and 
 bronze. Everywhere I find sumptuous masses of 
 colour-colour, colour, colour-colour all about, 
 colour of every shade and tint and variety ; and as 
 a result, the ship is bright and cheery to the eye, 
 and this cheeriness invades one's spirit and con- 
 tents it. To fully appreciate the force and spiritual 
 valueof this radiant and opulent dream of colour, one 
 must stand outside at night in the pitch dark and 
 the rain, and look in through a port, and observe it 
 in the lavish splendour of the electric Ughts. The 
 old-time ships were dull, plain, graceless, gloomy, 
 and horribly depressing. They compelled the 
 blues; one could not escape the blues in them. 
 The modern idea i3 right: to surround the pas- 
 senger with conveniences, luxuries, and abundance 
 
218 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 of inspiriting colour. As a result, the ship is the 
 pleasantest place one can be in, except, perhaps, 
 one's home. 
 
 A VANISHED SENTIMENT 
 
 One thing is gone, to return no more for ever — 
 the romance of the sea. Soft sentimentality about 
 the sea has retired from the activities of this life, and 
 is but a memory of the past, already remote and 
 much faded. But within the recollection of men 
 still living, it was in the breast of every individual ; 
 and the further any individual lived from salt water 
 the more of it he kept in stock. It was as per- 
 vasive, as universal, as the atmosphere itself. The 
 mere mention of the sea, the romantic sea, would 
 make any company of people sentimental and mawk- 
 ish at once. The great majority of the songs that 
 w^ere sung by the young people of the back settle- 
 ments had the melancholy wanderer for subject, and 
 his mouthings about the sea for refrain. Picnic 
 parties, paddling down a creek in a canoe when the 
 twilight shadows were gathering, always sang 
 
 Homeward boimd, homeward bomid 
 From a foreign shore ; 
 
 and this was also a favourite in the West with the 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 219 
 
 passengers on sternwheel steamboats. There was 
 another — 
 
 My boat is by the shore, 
 
 And my bark is on the sea, 
 But before I go, Tom Moore, 
 
 Here's a double health to thee. 
 
 And this one, also — 
 
 Oh, pilot, 'tis a fearful night. 
 There's danger on the deep. 
 
 And this — 
 
 A life on the ocean wave, 
 And a home on the rolling deep, 
 
 Where the scattered waters rave, 
 And the winds their revels keep ! 
 
 And this — 
 
 A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 
 And a wind that follows fair. 
 
 And this— 
 
 My foot is on my gallant deck, 
 Once more the rover is free ! 
 
 And the ' Larboard Watch '—the person referred to 
 below is at the masthead, or somewhere up there— 
 
 Oh, who can tell what joy he feels, 
 As o'er the foam his vessel reels. 
 And his tired eyelids slumb'ring fall, 
 He rouses at the welcome call 
 
 Of ♦ Larboard watch — ahoy ! ' 
 
220 ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 
 
 Yes, and there was for ever and always some 
 jackass-voiced person braying out — 
 
 Bocked in the cradle of the deep, 
 I lay me down in peace to sleep 1 
 
 Other favourites had these suggestive titles; 
 *The Storm at Sea; ' *The Bird at Sea; ' ' The Sailor 
 Boy's Dream ; ' * The Captive Pirate's Lament ; ' 
 * We are far from Home on the Stormy Main ' — and 
 so on, and so on, the list is endless. Everybody on 
 a farm lived chiefly amid the dangers of the deep on 
 those days, in fancy. 
 
 But all that is gone now. Not a vestige of it is 
 left. The iron-clad, with her unsentimental aspect 
 and frigid attention to business, banished romance 
 from the war-marine, and the unsentimental steamer 
 has banished it from the commercial marine. 
 The dangers and uncertainties which made sea 
 life romantic have disappeared and carried the 
 poetic element along with them. In our day 
 the passengers never sing sea-songs on board a 
 ship, and the band never plays them. Pathetic 
 songs about the wanderer in strange lands far 
 from home, once so popular and contributing 
 such fire and colour to the imagination by reason 
 of the rarity of that kind of wanderer, have 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 221 
 
 lost their charm and fallen silent, because every- 
 body is a wanderer in the far lands now, and the 
 interest in that detail is dead. Nobody is worried 
 about the wanderer; there are no perils of the 
 sea for him, there are no uncertainties. He is safer 
 in the ship than he would probably be at home, for 
 there he is always liable to have to attend some 
 friend's funeral, and stand over the grave in the 
 sleet, bareheaded — and that means pneumonia for 
 him, if he gets his deserts ; and the uncertainties 
 of his voyage are reduced to whether he will arrive 
 on the other side in the appointed afternoon, or have 
 to wait till morning. 
 
 The first ship I was ever in was a sailing vessel. 
 She was twenty-eight days going from San Fran- 
 cisco to the Sandwich Islands . But the main reason 
 for this particularly slow passage was, that she got 
 becalmed, and lay in one spot fourteen days in the 
 centre of the Pacific, two thousand miles from land. 
 I hear no sea-songs in this present vessel, but I heard 
 the entire layout in that one. There were a dozen 
 young people — they are pretty old now I reckon — 
 and they used to group themselves on the stern, in 
 the starlight or the moonlight, every evening, and 
 sing sea-songs till after midnight, in that hot, silent, 
 motionless calm. They had no sense of humour. 
 
222 ABOUT ALL KhNDS OF SHIPS 
 
 and they always sang * Homeward Bound,' with- 
 out reflecting that that was practically ridiculous, 
 since they were standing still and not proceeding 
 in any direction at all ; and they often followed that 
 song with *Are we almost there, are we almost 
 there, said the dying girl as she drew near home ? ' 
 
 It was a very pleasant company of young people, 
 and I wonder where they are now. Gone, oh, none 
 knows whither ; and the bloom and grace and beauty 
 of their youth, where is that ? Among them was a 
 liar ; all tried to reform him, but none could do it. 
 And so, gradually, he was left to himself, none of us 
 would associate with him. Many a time since I have 
 seen in fancy that forsaken figure, leaning forlorn 
 against the taffrail, and have reflected that perhaps 
 if we had tried harder, and been more patient, we 
 might have won him from his fault and persuaded 
 him to relinquish it. But it is hard to tell ; with him 
 the vice was extreme, and was probably incurable. 
 I like to think — and, indeed, I do think — that I did 
 the best that in me lay to lead him to higher and 
 better ways. 
 
 There was a singular circumstance. The ship 
 lay becalmed that entire fortnight in exactly the same 
 spot. Then a handsome breeze came fanning over 
 the sea, and we spread our white wings for flight. 
 
ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS 223 
 
 But the vessel did not budge. The sails bellied out, 
 the gale strained at the ropes, but the vessel moved 
 not a hair's breadth from her place. The captain 
 was surprised. It was some hours before we found 
 out what the cause of the detention was. It was 
 barnacles. They collect very fast in that part of the 
 Pacific. They had fastened themselves to the ship's 
 bottom ; then others had fastened themselves to the 
 first bunch, others to these, and so on, down and 
 down and down, and the last bunch had glued the 
 column hard and fast to the bottom of the sea, which 
 is five miles deep at that point. So the ship was 
 simply become the handle of a walking-cane five 
 miles long— yes, and no more movable by wind and 
 sail than a continent is. It was regarded by every 
 one as remarkable. 
 
 Well, the next week— however, Sandy Hook is 
 
 in sight. 
 
225 
 
 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 A TIME would come when we must go from Aix- 
 les-Bains to Geneva, and from thence, by a series 
 of day-long and tangled journeys, to Bayreuth 
 in Bavaria. I should have to have a courier, 
 of course, to take care of so considerable a party 
 as mine. 
 
 But I procrastinated. The time slipped along, 
 and at last I woke up one day to the fact that we 
 were ready to move and had no courier. I then re- 
 solved upon what I felt was a foolhardy thing, but 
 I was in the humour of it. I said I would make the 
 first stage without help— I did it. 
 
 I brought the party from Aix to Geneva by my- 
 self—four people. The distance was two hours and 
 more, and there was one change of cars. There 
 was not an accident of any kind, except leaving a 
 valise and some other matters on the platform— a 
 thing which can hardly be called an accident, it is 
 
 Q 
 
226 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 BO common. So I offered to conduct the party all 
 the way to Bayreuth. 
 
 This was a blunder, though it did not seem so 
 at the time. There was more detail than I thought 
 there would be : 1. Two persons whom we had left 
 in a Genevan pension some weeks before must be 
 collected and brought to the hotel. 2. I must notify 
 the people on the Grand Quay who store trunks to 
 bring seven of our stored trunks to the hotel and 
 carry back seven which they would find piled in the 
 lobby. 3. I must find out what part of Europe 
 Bayreuth was in and buy seven railway tickets for 
 that point. 4. I must send a telegram to a friend 
 in the Netherlands. 5. It was now two in the 
 afternoon, and we must look sharp and be 
 ready for the first night train, and make sure of 
 sleeping-car tickets. 6. I must draw money at the 
 bank. 
 
 It seemed to me that the sleeping-car tickets 
 must be the most important thing, so I went to the 
 station myself to make sure; hotel messengers are 
 not always brisk people. It was a hot day and I 
 ought to have driven, but it seemed better economy 
 to walk. It did not turn out so, because I lost my 
 way and trebled the distance. I applied for the 
 tickets, and they asked me which route I wanted to 
 
go 
 
 m 
 
 PLAYING COURIER 2^7 
 
 . by, and that embarrassed me and made me lose 
 ..^y head, there %Yere so many people standing around, 
 and I not knowing anything about the routes, and 
 not supposing there were going to be two ; so I 
 judged it best to go back and map out the road and 
 come again. 
 
 I took a cab this time, but on my way upstairs 
 at the hotel I remembered that I was out of cigars, 
 so I thought it would be well to get some while the 
 matter was in my mind. It was only round the 
 corner and I didn't need the cab. I asked the cab- 
 man to wait where he was. Thinking of the tele- 
 gram and trying to word it in my head, I forgot the 
 cigars and the cab, and walked on indefinitely. I 
 was going to have the hotel people send the tele- 
 gram, but as I could not be far from the Post OfBce 
 by this time, I thought I would do it myself. But 
 it was further than I had supposed. I found the 
 place at last, and wrote the telegram and handed it 
 ,in. The clerk was a severe-looking, fidgety man, 
 and he began to fire French questions at me in such 
 a liquid form that I could not detect the joints be- 
 tween his words, and this made me lose my head 
 again. But an Englishman stepped up and said 
 the clerk wanted to know where he was to send 
 the telegram. I could not tell him, because it was 
 
 a 2 
 
228 
 
 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 not my telegram, and I explained that I was 
 merely sending it for a member of my party. But 
 nothing would pacify the clerk but the address ; so 
 I said that if he was so particular I would go back 
 and get it. 
 
 However, I thought I would go and collect those 
 lacking two persons first, for it would be best to do 
 everything systematically and in order, and one 
 detail at a time. Then I remembered the cab was 
 eating up my substance down at the hotel yonder ; 
 BO I called another cab, and told the man to go 
 down and fetch it to the Post Office and wait till I 
 came. 
 
 I had a long hot walk to collect those people, 
 and when I got there they couldn't come with me 
 because they had heavy satchels, and must have a 
 cab. I went away to find one, but before I ran 
 across any I noticed that I had reached the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Grand Quay — at least, I thought I 
 had — so I judged I could save time by stepping 
 around and arranging about the trunks. I stepped 
 around about a mile, and although I did not find 
 the Grand Quay, I found a cigar shop, and remem- 
 bered about the cigars. I said I was going to Bay- 
 reuth, and wanted enough for the journey. The 
 man asked me which route I was going to take. 
 
PLAYING COURIER 229 
 
 I said I did not know. He said he would recom- 
 mend me to go by Zurich and various other places 
 which he named, and offered to sell me seven 
 second-class through tickets for ^^22 apiece, which 
 would be throwing off the discount which the 
 railroads allowed him. I was already tired of 
 riding second class on first-class tickets, so I took 
 him up. 
 
 By-and-by I found Natural & Co.'s storago 
 office, and told them to send seven of our trunks 
 to the hotel and pile them up in the lobby. It 
 seemed to me that I was not delivering the whole 
 of the message ; still, it was all I could find in my 
 head. 
 
 Next I found the bank, and asked for some 
 money, but I had left my letter of credit somewhere 
 and was not able to draw. I remembered now that 
 I must have left it lying on the table where I wrote 
 my telegram ; so I got a cab and drove to the Post 
 Office and went upstairs, and they said that a letter 
 of credit had indeed been left on the table, but that 
 it was now in the hands of the police authorities, 
 and it would be necessary for me to go there and 
 prove property. They sent a boy with me, and we 
 went out the back way and walked a couple of miles 
 and found the place ; and then I remembered about 
 
230 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 my cabs, and asked the boy to send them to ma 
 when he got back to the Post Office. It was night- 
 fall now, and the Mayor had gone to dmner. I 
 thought I would go to dinner myself, but the officer 
 on duty thought differently, and I stayed. The 
 Mayor dropped in at half past ten, but said it was 
 too late to do anything to-night— come at 9.30 in 
 the morning. The officer wanted to keep me all 
 night, and said I was a suspicious-looking person, 
 and probably did not own the letter of credit, and 
 didn't know what a letter of credit was, but merely 
 saw the real owner leave it lying on the table, and 
 wanted to get it because I was probably a person 
 that would want anything he could get, whether it 
 was valuable or not. But the Mayor said he saw 
 nothing suspicious about me, and that I seemed a 
 harmless person, and nothing the matter with me 
 but a wandering mind, and not much of that. So I 
 thanked him and he set me free, and I went home 
 in my three cabs. 
 
 As I was dog-tired, and in no condition to 
 answer questions with discretion, I thought I would 
 not disturb the Expedition at that time of night, 
 as there was a vacant room I knew of at the other 
 end of the hall ; but I did not quite arrive there, as 
 a watch had been set, the Expedition being anxious 
 
PLAYING COURIER 231 
 
 about me. I was placed in a galling situation. 
 The Expedition sat stiff and forbidding, on four 
 chairs in a row, with shawls and things all on, 
 satchels and guide-books in lap. They had been 
 sitting like that for four hours, and the glass going 
 down all the time. Yes, and they were waiting- 
 waiting for me. It seemed to me that nothing but 
 a sudden, happily contrived, and brilliant torn deforce 
 could break this iron front and make a diversion 
 in my favour ; so I shied my hat into the arena, 
 and followed it with a skip and a jump, shouting 
 blithely : 
 
 ^ Ha, ha, here we all are, Mr. Merryman ! ' 
 Nothing could be 'deeper or stiller than the 
 absence of applause which followed. But I kept on ; 
 there seemed no other way, though my confidence, 
 poor enough before, had got a deadly check, and 
 was in effect gone. 
 
 I tried to be jocund out of a heavy heart ; I 
 tried to touch the other hearts there and soften 
 the bitter resentment in those faces by throwing 
 off bright and airy fun, and making of the whole 
 ghastly thing a joyously humorous incident ; but 
 this idea was not well conceived. It was not the 
 right atmosphere for it. I got not one smile; not 
 one line in those offended faces relaxed ; I thawed 
 
232 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 nothing of the wmter that looked out of those frosty 
 eyes. I started one more breezy, poor effort, but 
 the head of the Expedition cut into the centre of 
 it, and said : 
 
 * Where have you been ? ' 
 
 I saw by the manner of this that the idea was 
 to get down to cold business now. So I began my 
 travels, but was cut short again. 
 
 * Where are the two others ? We have been 
 in frightful anxiety about them.' 
 
 ' Oh, they're all right. I was to fetch a cab. I 
 will go straight off, and ' 
 
 * Sit down ! Don't you know it is 11 o'clock ? 
 Where did you leave them ? ' 
 
 * At the pension.' 
 
 ' Wli}^ didn't you bring them ? * 
 ' Because we couldn't carry the satchels. And 
 so I thought ' 
 
 * Thought ! You should not try to think. 
 One cannot think without the proper machinery. 
 It is two miles to that pension. Did you go there 
 without a cab ? ' 
 
 *I — well, I didn't intend to; it only happened 
 
 BO.' 
 
 * How did it happen so ? ' 
 
 'Because I was at the Post Office, and I re- 
 
PLAYING COURIER 233 
 
 membered that I had left a cab waiting here, 
 and so, to stop the expense, I sent another cab to— 
 to ' 
 
 * To what ? ' 
 
 * Well, I don't remember now, but I think the 
 new cab was to have the hotel pay the old cab, and 
 send it away. ' 
 
 * What good would that do ? ' 
 
 ' What good would it do ? It would stop the 
 expense, wouldn't it ? ' 
 
 * By putting the new cab in its place to con- 
 tinue the expense ? ' 
 
 * I didn't say anything. 
 
 * Why didn't you have the new cab come back 
 for you ? ' 
 
 *0h, that is what I did! I remember now. 
 Yes, that is what I did. Because I recollect that 
 when I ' 
 
 ' * Well, then, why didn't it come back for you ? ' 
 
 * To the Post Office ? Why, it did.' 
 
 * Very well, then, how did you come to walk to 
 the pension ? ' 
 
 * I— I don't quite remember how that happened. 
 Oh, yes, I do remember now. I wrote the despatch 
 to send to the Netherlands, and ' 
 
 * Oh, thank goodness, you did accompHsh some- 
 
234 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 thing ! I wouldn't have had you fail to send 
 
 What makes you look like that? You are trying 
 to avoid my eye. That despatch is the most im- 
 
 portant thing that . You haven't sent that 
 
 despatch ! ' 
 
 ' I haven't said I didn't send it.' 
 
 ' You don't need to. Oh, dear, I wouldn't have 
 had that telegram fail for anything. Why didn't 
 you send it ? ' 
 
 _ 'Well, you see, with so many things to do and 
 think of, I-they're very particular there, and after 
 
 I had written the telegram ' 
 
 •Oh, never mind, let it go, explanations can't 
 help the matter now— what will he think of us ? ■ 
 
 'Oh, that's all right, that's all right! He'll 
 think we gave the telegram to the hotel people, and 
 that they ^ 
 
 'Why, certainly! Why didn't you do that? 
 There was no other rational way.' 
 
 'Yes, I know, but then I had it on my mind 
 that I must be sure and get to the bank and draw 
 some money ' 
 
 'Well, you are entitled to some credit, after all 
 for thinking of that, and I don't wish to be too 
 hard on you, though you must acknowledge yourself 
 that you have cost us all a good deal of trouble, 
 
PLAYING COURIER 235 
 and some of it not necessary. How much did you 
 draw ? ' 
 
 ( Well, I— I had an idea that—that ' 
 
 < That what?' 
 
 * That— well, it seems to me that in the circum- 
 stances—so many of us, you know, and— and ' 
 
 ' What are you mooning about ? Do turn your 
 
 face this way and let me Why, you haven't 
 
 drawn any money ! ' 
 
 * Well, the banker said ' 
 
 < Never mind what the banker said. You must 
 have had a reason of your own. Not a reason, 
 exactly, but something which ' 
 
 ' Well, then, the simple fact was that I hadn't 
 my letter of credit.' 
 
 * Hadn't your letter of credit ? ' 
 ' Hadn't my letter of credit.' 
 
 < Don't repeat me like that. "Where was it ? * 
 ' At the Post Office.' 
 
 ' What was it doing there ? ' 
 
 « Well, I forgot it, and left it there.' 
 
 < Upon my word, I've seen a good many couriers, 
 but of all the couriers that ever I ' 
 
 * I've done the best I could.' 
 
 ' Well, so you have, poor thing, and I'm wrong 
 to abuse you so when you've been working yourself 
 
236 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 to death while we've been sittmg here, only think- 
 ing of cm vexations instead of feeling grateful for 
 what jou were trying to do for ns. It will all come 
 out right. We can take the 7.30 train in the 
 morning just as well. You've bought the tickets ? ' 
 
 ' I have— and it's a bargain, too. Second class.' 
 
 ' I'm glad of it. Everybody else travels second 
 class, and we might just as well save that ruinous 
 extra charge. What did you pay ? ' 
 
 * Twenty-two dollars apiece— through to Bay- 
 reuth.' 
 
 *Why, I didn't know you could buy through 
 tickets anywhere but in London and Paris.' 
 
 * Some people can't, maybe ; but some people 
 can— of whom I am one of which, it appears.' 
 
 *It seems a rather high price.' 
 ' On the contrary, the dealer knocked off his 
 commission.' 
 'Dealer?' 
 
 * Yes— I bought them at a cigar shop.' 
 
 * That reminds me. We shall have to get up 
 pretty early, and so there should be no packing to 
 
 do. Your umbrella, your rubbers, your cigars 
 
 What is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' Hang it ! I've left the cigars at the bank.' 
 
 * Just think of it ! Well, your umbrella ? ' 
 
PLAYING COURIER 237 
 
 ' I'll have that all right. There's no hurry.' 
 
 * What do you mean by that ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's all right ; I'll take care of ' 
 
 * Where is that umbrella ? ' 
 
 *It's just the merest step— it won't take 
 
 me ' 
 
 * Where is it ? ' 
 
 'Well, I think I left it at the cigar shop; but 
 
 any way ' 
 
 * Take your feet out from under that thing. It's 
 just as I expected ! Where are your rubbers ? ' 
 
 'They— well ' 
 
 * Where are your rubbers ? ' 
 
 at's got so dry now— well, everybody says 
 there's not going to be another drop of ' 
 
 * Where— are —your— rubbers ? ' 
 
 'Well, you see— well, it was this way. First, 
 
 the officer said ' 
 
 'What officer?' 
 
 ' Pohce officer ; but the Mayor, he ' 
 
 ' What Mayor ? ' 
 
 ' Mayor of Geneva ; but I said — 
 
 ' Wait. What is the matter with you ? ' 
 
 'Who, me? Nothing. They both tried to 
 
 persuade me to stay, and ' 
 
 ' Stay where ? ' 
 
238 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 * Well— the fact is 
 
 * Where have you been ? What's kept you out 
 till half past ten at night ? ' 
 
 * Oh, you see, after I lost my letter of credit, 
 I ' 
 
 'You are beating around the bush a good deal. 
 Now, answer the question in just one straightfor- 
 ward word. Where are those rubbers ? ' 
 
 'They — well, they're in the county jail.' 
 
 I started a placating smile, but it petrified. 
 The climate was unsuitable. Spending three 
 or four hours in jail did not seem to the Expe- 
 dition humorous. Neither did it to me, at bot- 
 tom. 
 
 I had to explain the whole thing, and of course 
 it came out then that we couldn't take the early 
 train, because that would leave my letter of credit 
 in hock still. It did look as if we had all got to go 
 to bed estranged and unhappy, but by good luck 
 that was prevented. There happened to be mention 
 of the trunks, and I was able to say I had attended 
 to that feature. 
 
 ' There, you are just as good and thoughtful and 
 painstaking and intelligent as j^ou can be, and it's 
 a shame to find so much fault with you, and there 
 shan't be another word of it ! You've done beauti- 
 
PLAYING COURIER 239 
 
 fully, admirably, and I'm sorry I ever said one un- 
 grateful word to you.' 
 
 This hit deeper than some of the other things, 
 and made me uncomfortable, because I wasn't feel- 
 ing as solid about that trunk errand as I wanted 
 to. There seemed, somehow, to be a defect about 
 it somewhere, though I couldn't put my finger on 
 it, and didn't like to stir the matter just now, it 
 being late and maybe well enough to let well enough 
 alone. 
 
 Of course there was music in the morning, when 
 it was found that we couldn't leave by the early 
 train. But I had no time to wait ; I got only the 
 opening bars of the overture, and then started out 
 to get my letter of credit. 
 
 It seemed a good time to look into the trunk 
 business and rectify it if it needed it, and I had a 
 suspicion that it did. I was too late. The con- 
 cierge said he had shipped the trunks to Zurich 
 the evening before. I asked him how he could do 
 that without exhibiting passage tickets. 
 
 * Not necessary in Switzerland. You pay for 
 your trunks and send them where you please. 
 Nothing goes free but your hand baggage.' 
 
 ' How much did you pay on them ? ' 
 
 * A hundred and forty francs.' 
 
'40 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 'Twenty-eight dollars. There's something 
 wrong about that trunk business, sure.' 
 Next I met the porter. He said : 
 ' You have not slept well, is it not ? You have 
 the worn look. If you would like a courier, a good 
 one has arrived last night, and is not engaged for 
 five days already, by the name of Ludi. We recom- 
 mend him ; "das heisst," the Grande Hotel Beau 
 Eivage recommends him.' 
 
 I declined with coldness. My spirit was not 
 broken yet. And I did not like having my condi- 
 tion taken notice of in this way. Iwas at the county 
 jail by nine o'clock, hoping that the Mayor mic-ht 
 chance to come before his regular hour; but he didn't 
 n was dull there. Every time I offered to touch 
 anything, or look at anything, or do anything or 
 refram from doing anything, the policeman said it 
 was 'defendu.' I thought I would practise my 
 French on him, but he wouldn't have that either 
 It seemed to make him particularly bitter to hear his 
 own tongue. 
 
 The Mayor came at last, and then there was no 
 trouble; for the minute he had convened the Su- 
 preme Court-which they always do whenever there 
 IS valuable property in dispute-and got everythinc, 
 shipshape, and sentries posted, and had prayer by 
 
PLAYING COURIER 
 
 241 
 
 tlie chaplain, my unsealed letter was brought and 
 opened, and there wasn't anything in it but some 
 photographs : because, as I remembered now, I had 
 taken out the letter of credit so as to make room for 
 the photographs, and had put the letter in my other 
 pocket, which I proved to everybody's satisfaction 
 by fetching it out and showing it with a good deal 
 of exultation. So then the court looked at each 
 other in a vacant kind of way, and then at me, and 
 then at each other again, and finally let me go, but 
 said it was imprudent for me to be at large, and 
 asked me what my profession was. I said I was a 
 courier. They lifted up their eyes in a kind of 
 reverent way and said, ' Du heber Gott ! ' and I said 
 a word of courteous thanks for their apparent ad- 
 miration and hurried off to the bank. 
 
 However, being a courier was already making 
 me a great stickler for order and system and one 
 thing at a time and each thing in its own proper 
 turn ; so I passed by the bank and branched off and 
 started for the two lacking members of the Expedi- 
 tion. A cab lazied by and I took it upon persuasion. 
 I gained no speed by this, but it was a reposeful 
 turn out and I liked reposefulness. The week-long 
 jubilations over the six-hundredth anniversary of 
 the birth of Swiss liberty and the Signing of the 
 
242 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 Compact was at flood tide, and all the streets were 
 clothed in fluttering flags. 
 
 The horse and the driver had been drunk three 
 days and nights, and had known no stall nor bed 
 meantime. They looked as I felt — dreamy and 
 seedy. But w.e arrived in course of time. I went 
 in and rang, and asked a housemaid to rush out the 
 lacking members. She said something which I did 
 not understand, and I returned to the chariot. The 
 girl had probably told me that those people did not 
 belong on her floor, and that it would be judicious 
 for me to go higher, and ring from floor to floor till 
 I found them ; for in those Swiss flats there does 
 not seem to be any way to find the right family but 
 to be patient and guess your way along up. I calcu- 
 lated that I must wait fifteen minutes, there being 
 three details inseparable from an occasion of this 
 sort : 1, put on hats and come down and climb in ; 
 2, return of one to get * my other glove ' ; 3, pre- 
 sently, return of the other one to fetch * my French 
 Verbs at a Glance.' I would muse during the 
 fifteen mmutes and take it easy. 
 
 A very still and blank interval ensued, and then 
 I felt a hand on my shoulder and started. The in- 
 truder was a policeman. I glanced up and per- 
 ceived that there was new scenery. There was a 
 
PLAYING COURIER 243 
 
 good deal of a crowd, and they had that pleased 
 and interested look which such a crowd wears when 
 they see that somebody is out of luck. The horse 
 was asleep, and so was the driver, and some boys 
 had hung them and me full of gaudy decorations 
 stolen from the innumerable banner poles. It was 
 a scandalous spectacle. The officer said : 
 
 * I'm sorry, but we can't have you sleeping here 
 all day.' 
 
 I was wounded, and said with dignity : 
 
 * I beg your pardon, I was not sleeping ; I was 
 thinking.' 
 
 * Well, you can think, if you want to, but you've 
 got to think to yourself; you disturb the whole 
 neighbourhood,' 
 
 It was a poor joke, and it made the crowd laugh. 
 I snore at night sometimes, but it is not likely that 
 I would do such a thing in the daytime and in such 
 a place. The officer undecorated us, and seemed 
 sorry for our friendlessness, and really tried to be 
 humane, but he said we mustn't stop there any 
 longer or he would have to charge us rent — it was 
 the law, he said, and he went on to say in a sociable 
 way that I was looking pretty mouldy, and he 
 wished he knew 
 
 I shut him off pretty austerely, and said I hoped 
 
 E 2 
 
244 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 one might celebrate a little, these days, especially 
 when one was personally concerned. 
 ' Personally ? ' he asked. * How ? ' 
 
 * Because six hundred years ago an ancestor of 
 mine signed the Compact.' 
 
 He reflected a moment, th^n looked me over and 
 said : 
 
 * Ancestor ! It's my opinion 3^ou signed it your- 
 self. For of all the old ancient relics that ever I — 
 but never mind about that. What is it you are 
 w^aiting here for so long ? ' 
 
 I said : 
 
 ' I'm not wwting here so long at all. I'm waiting 
 fifteen minutes till they forget a glove and a book 
 and go back and get them.' Then I told him who 
 they were that I had come for. 
 
 He was very obliging, and began to shout in- 
 quiries to the tiers of heads and shoulders pro- 
 jecting from the windows above us. Then a woman 
 aw^ay up there sang out : 
 
 ' Oh, they ? Why, I got them a cab and they left 
 here long ago — half-past eight, I should say.' 
 
 It was annoying. I glanced at my watch, but 
 didn't say anything. The officer said : 
 
 ' It is a quarter of twelve, you see. You should 
 have inquired better. You have been asleep three- 
 
PLAY TNG COURT RR 245 
 
 quarters of an hour, and in such a sun as this ! 
 You are baked — baked black. It 13 wonderful. And 
 you will miss your train, perhaps. You interest me 
 greatly. What is your occupation ? ' 
 
 I said I was a courier. It seemed to stun him, 
 and before he could come to we were gone. 
 
 "When I arrived in the third story of the hotel I 
 found our quarters vacant. I was not surprised. 
 The moment a courier takes his eye off his tribe 
 they go shopping. The nearer it is to train time 
 the surer they are to go. I sat dow^n to try and 
 think out what I had best do next, but presently the 
 hall boy found me there, and said the Expedition 
 had gone to the station half an hour before. It w^as 
 the first time I had known them to do a rational 
 thing, and it was very confusing. This is one of the 
 things that make a courier's life so difficult and un- 
 certain. Just as matters are going the smoothest, 
 bis people will strike a lucid interval, and down go 
 all his arrangements to wreck and ruin. 
 
 The train was to leave at twelve noon sharp. It 
 was now ten minutes after twelve. I could be at 
 the station in ten minutes. I saw I had no great 
 amount of leeway, for this was the lightning 
 express, and on the Continent the lightning 
 expregfies are pretty fastidious about getting 
 
246 
 
 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 away some time dming the advertised day. My 
 people were the only ones remaining in the waiting 
 room ; everybody else had passed through and 
 'mounted the train,' as they say in those regions. 
 They were exhausted with nervousness and fret, 
 but I comforted them and heartened them up, and 
 we made our rush. 
 
 But no ; we were out of luck again. The door- 
 keeper was not satisfied with the tickets. He ex- 
 amined them cautiously, deliberately, suspiciously : 
 then glared at me awhile, and after that he called 
 another official. The two examined the tickets and 
 called another official. These called others, and the 
 convention discussed and discussed, and gesticulated 
 and carried on until I begged that they would con- 
 sider how time was flying, and just pass a few 
 resolutions and let us go. Then they said very 
 courteously that there was a defect in the tickets, 
 and asked me where I got them. 
 
 I judged I saw what the trouble was, now. 
 You see, I had bought the tickets in a cigar shop, 
 and of course the tobacco smell was on them : 
 without doubt the thing they were up to was to 
 work the tickets through the Custom House and to 
 collect duty on that smell. So I resolved to be per- 
 fectly frank: it is sometimes the best way. I said: 
 
PLAYING COURIER 
 
 247 
 
 'Gentlemen, I will not deceive you. These 
 railway tickets ' 
 
 ' Ah ! pardon, monsieur ! These are not rail- 
 way tickets.' 
 
 ' Oh,' I said, ' is that the defect ? ' 
 
 *Ah, truly yes, monsieur. These are lottery 
 tickets, yes; and it is a lottery which has been 
 drawn two years ago.' 
 
 I affected to be greatly amused ; it is all one 
 can do in such circumstances ; it is all one can 
 do, and yet there is no value in it ; it deceives no- 
 body, and you can see that everybody around pities 
 you and is ashamed of you. One of the hardest 
 situations in life, I think, is to be full of grief and a 
 sense of defeat and shabbiness that way, and yet 
 have to put on an outside of archness and gaiety, 
 while all the time you know that your own expedi- 
 tion, the treasures of your heart, and whose love and 
 reverence you are by the custom of our civilisation 
 entitled to, are being consumed with humiliation 
 before strangers to see you earning and getting a 
 compassion, which is a stigma, a brand— a brand 
 which certifies you to be — oh, anything and every- 
 thing which is fatal to human respect. 
 
 I said, cheerily, it was all right, just one of those 
 little accidents that was likely to happen to any- 
 
248 
 
 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 body — I would have the right tickets in two minutes, 
 and we would catch the train yet, and, moreover, 
 have something to laugh about all through the 
 journey. I did get the tickets in time, all stamped 
 and complete ; but then it turned out that I 
 couldn't take them, because, in taking so much 
 pains about the two missing members, I had skipped 
 the bank and hadn't the money. So then the train 
 left, and there didn't seem to be anything to do but 
 go back to the hotel, which we did ; but it was kind 
 of melancholy and not much said. I tried to start 
 a few subjects, like scenery and transubstantiation, 
 and those sorts of things, but they didn't seem to 
 hit the weather right. 
 
 We had lost our good rooms, but we got some 
 others which were pretty scattering, but would 
 answer. I judged things would brighten now, but 
 the Head of the Expedition said, ' Send up the 
 trunks.' It made me feel pretty cold. There 
 was a doubtful something about that trunk busi- 
 ness. I wa^ almost sure of it. I was going to 
 suggest 
 
 But a wave of the hand sufficiently restrained 
 me, and I was informed that wc would now camp for 
 three days and see if we could rest up. 
 
 I said all right, never mind ringing ; I would go 
 
PLAYING COURIER 249 
 
 down and attend to the trunks myself. I got a cab 
 and went straight to Mr. Charles Natural's place, 
 and asked what order it was I had left there. 
 
 * To send seven trunks to the hotel.' 
 
 * And were you to bring any back ? ' 
 'No.' 
 
 ' You are sure I didn't tell you to bring back 
 seven that would be found piled in the lobby ? ' 
 
 * Absolutely sure you didn't.' 
 
 ' Then the whole fourteen are gone to Zurich 
 or Jericho or somewhere, and there is going to be 
 more debris around that hotel when the Expedi- 
 tion ' 
 
 I didn't finish, because my mind was getting to 
 be in a good deal of a whirl, and when you are 
 that way you think you have finished a sentence 
 when you haven't, and you go mooning and 
 dreaming away, and the first thing you know you 
 get run over by a dray or a cow or something. 
 
 I left the cab there — I forgot it — and on my 
 way back I thought it all out and concluded to 
 resign, because otherwise I should be nearly sure 
 to be discharged. But I didn't believe it would be 
 a good idea to resign in person ; I could do it by 
 message. So I sent for Mr. Ludi and explained 
 that there was a courier going to resign on account 
 
250 PLAYING COURIER 
 
 of incompatibility or fatigue or something, and as 
 he had four or five vacant days, I would like to 
 insert him into that vacancy if he thought he could 
 fill it. When everything was arranged I got him 
 to go up and say to the Expedition that, owing to 
 an error made by Mr. Natural's people, we were 
 out of trunks here, but would have plenty in 
 Zurich, and we'd better take the first train, 
 freight, gravel, or construction, and move right 
 along. 
 
 He attended to that and came down with an 
 invitation for me to go up-yes, certainly; and, 
 while we walked along over to the bank to get 
 money, and collect my cigars and tobacco, and to 
 the cigar shop to trade back the lottery tickets and 
 get my umbrella, and to Mr. Natural's to pay that 
 cab and send it away, and to the county jail to get 
 my rubbers and leave p. p. c. cards for the Maj^or 
 and Supreme Court, he described the weather to 
 me that was prevailing on the upper levels there 
 with the Expedition, and I saw that I was doing 
 very well where I was. 
 
 I stayed out in the woods till 4 p.:\r., to let the 
 weather moderate, and then turned up at the 
 station just in time to take the three o'clock express 
 for Zurich along with the Expedition, now in the 
 
PLAYING COURIER 
 
 251 
 
 hands of Ludi, who conducted its complex affairs 
 with little apparent effort or inconvenience. 
 
 Well, I had worked like a slave while I was in 
 office, and done the very best I knew how ; yet all 
 that these people dwelt upon or seemed to care to 
 remember was the defects of my administration, 
 not its creditable features. They would skip over 
 a thousand creditable features to remark upon and 
 reiterate and fuss about just one fact, till it seemed 
 to me they would wear it out ; and not much of a 
 fact, either, taken by itself — the fact that I elected 
 myself courier in Geneva, and put in work enough 
 to carry a circus to Jerusalem, and yet never even 
 got my gang out of the town. I finally said I 
 didn't wish to hear any more about the subject, it 
 made me tired. And I told them to their faces 
 that I would never be a courier again to save any- 
 body's life. And if I live long enough I'll prove it. 
 I think it's a difficult, brain-racking, overworked, 
 and thoroughly ungrateful office, and the main 
 bulk of its wages is a sore heart and a bruised 
 spirit. 
 
 4 
 
253 
 
 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 I FEEL lost, in Berlin. It has no resemblance to 
 the city I had supposed it was. There was once a 
 Berlin, which I would have known, from descriptions 
 in books— the Berlin of the last century and the 
 beginning of the present one: a dingy city in a 
 marsh, with rough streets, muddy and lantern- 
 lighted, dividing straight rows of ugly houses all 
 alike, compacted into blocks as square and plain 
 and uniform and monotonous and serious as so 
 many dry-goods boxes. But that Berlin has dis- 
 appeared. It seems to have disappeared totally, 
 and left no sign. The bulk of the Berlin of to-day 
 has about it no suggestion of a former period. The 
 site it stands on has traditions and a history, but 
 the city itself has no traditions and no history. It 
 is a new city, the newest I have ever seen. Chicago 
 would seem venerable beside it ; for there are 
 many old-looking districts in Chicago, but not 
 
254 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 many in Berlin. The main mass of the city looks 
 as if it had been built last week ; the rest of it has 
 a just perceptibly graver tone, and looks as if it 
 might be six or even eight months old. 
 
 The next feature that strikes one is the spacious- 
 ness, the roominess of the city. There is no other 
 city, in any country, ^Yhose streets are so generally 
 wide. Berlin is not merely a city of wide streets, 
 it is tlie city of wide streets. As a wide-street city 
 it has never had its equal, in any age of the world. 
 * Unter den Linden ' is three streets in one ; the 
 Potsdamerstrasse is bordered on both sides by 
 sidewalks which are themselves wider than some 
 of the historic thoroughfares of the old European 
 capitals ; there seem to be no lanes or alleys ; 
 there are no short-cuts ; here and there, where 
 several important streets empty into a common 
 centre, that centre's circumference is of a magni- 
 tude calculated to bring that word spaciousness 
 into your mind again. The park in the middle of 
 the city is so huge that it calls up that expression 
 once more. 
 
 The next feature that strikes one is the straight- 
 ness of the streets. The short ones haven't so 
 much as a waver in them ; the long ones stretch 
 out to prodigious distances and then tilt a little to 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 255 
 
 the right or left, then stretch out on another im- 
 mense reach as straight as a ray of Hght. A result 
 of this arrangement is, that at night Berlin is an 
 inspiring sight to see. Gas and the electric light 
 are employed with a wasteful liberality, and so, 
 wherever one goes, he has always double ranks of 
 brilhant lights stretching far down into the night 
 on every hand, with here and there a wide and 
 splendid constellation of them spread out over an 
 intervening ' Platz ' ; and between the interminable 
 double procession of street lamps one has the 
 swarming and darting cab lamps, a lively and 
 pretty addition to the fine spectacle, for they 
 counterfeit the rush and confusion and sparkle of 
 an invasion of fire-flies. 
 
 There is one other noticeable feature— the ab- 
 solutely level surface of the site of Berlin. Berlin 
 —to capitulate— is newer to the eye than is any 
 other city, and also blonder of complexion and 
 tidier ; no other city has such an air of roominess, 
 freedom from crowding; no other city has so 
 many straight streets ; and with Chicago it con- 
 tests the chromo for flatness of surface and for 
 phenomenal swiftness of growth. Berlin is the 
 European Chicago. The two cities have about the 
 same population— say a million and a half. I 
 
2 56 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 cannot speak in exact terms, because I only know 
 what Chicago's population was week before last ; 
 but at that time it was about a million and a half. 
 Fifteen years ago Berlin and Chicago were large 
 cities, of course, but neither of them was the giant 
 it now is. 
 
 But now the parallels fail. Only parts of 
 Chicago are stately and beautiful, whereas all of 
 Berlin is stately and substantial, and it is not 
 merely in parts but uniformly beautiful. There 
 are buildings in Chicago that are architecturally 
 finer than any in BerHn, I think, but what I have 
 just said above is still true. These two flat cities 
 would lead the world for phenomenal good health 
 if London were out of the way. As it is, London 
 leads, by a point or two. Berlin's death rate is 
 only nineteen in the thousand. Fourteen years 
 ago the rate was a third higher. 
 
 BerHn is a surprise in a great many ways— in 
 a multitude of ways, to speak strongly and be exact. 
 It seems to be the most governed city in the world, 
 but one must admit that it also seems to be the 
 best governed. Method and system are observable 
 on every hand-in great things, in little things, in 
 all details, of whatsoever size. And it is not 
 method and system on paper, and there an end- 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 2%1 
 
 it is mctliocl and system in practice. It has a rule 
 for everything, and puts the rule in force ; puts it 
 in force against the poor and powerful alike, without 
 favour or prejudice. It deals with great matters 
 and minute particulars with equal faithfulness, 
 and with a plodding and painstaking diHgence 
 and persistency which compel admiration— and 
 sometimes regret. There are several taxes, and they 
 are collected quarterly. Collected is the word; 
 they are not merely levied, they are collected— 
 every time. This makes light taxes. It is in cities 
 and countries where a considerable part of the 
 community shirk payment that taxes have to 
 be lifted to a burdensome rate. Here the pohce 
 keep coming, calmly and patiently, until you pay 
 your tax. They charge you five or ten cents 
 per visit after the first call. By experiment you 
 will find that they will presently collect that 
 money. 
 
 In one respect the million and a half of Berlin's 
 population are like a family ; the head of this large 
 family knows the names of its several members, 
 and where the said members are located, and when 
 and where they were born, and what they do for a 
 living, and what their rehgious brand is. Whoever 
 comes to Berlin must furnish these particulars to 
 
 s 
 
258 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 the police immediately ; moreover, if he knows how 
 long he is going to stay, he must say so. If he 
 take a house he will be taxed on the rent and taxed 
 also on his income. He will not be asked what 
 his income is, and so he may save some lies for 
 home consumption. The police will estimate his 
 income from the house-rent he pays, and tax him 
 on that basis. 
 
 Duties on imported articles are collected with 
 inflexible fidelity, be the sum large or httle; but 
 the methods are gentle, prompt, and full of the 
 spirit of accommodation. The postman attends to 
 the whole matter for you, in cases where the article 
 comes by mail, and you have no trouble, and suffer 
 no inconvenience. The other day a friend of mine 
 was informed that there was a package in the 
 post-office for him, containing a lady's silk belt with 
 gold clasp, and a gold chain to hang a bunch of 
 keys on. In his first agitation he was going to try 
 to bribe the postman to chalk it through, but acted 
 upon his sober second thought and allowed the 
 matter to take its proper and regular course. In 
 a little while the postman brought the package and 
 made these several collections : duty on the silk 
 belt, 7i cents ; duty on the gold chain, 10 cents ; 
 charge for fetching the package, 5 cents. These 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 259 
 devastating imposts are exacted for tlic protection 
 of German home industries. 
 
 The calm, quiet, courteous, cussed persistence 
 of the police is the most admirable thing I have 
 encountered on this side. They undertook to per- 
 suade me to send and get a passport for a S^Yiss 
 maid whom we had brought with us, and at the 
 end of six weeks of patient, tranquil, angelic daily 
 effort they succeeded. I was not intending to give 
 them trouble, but I was lazy, and I thought they 
 would get tired. Meanwhile they probably thought 
 I would be the one. It turned out just so. 
 
 One is not allowed to build unstable, unsafe, or 
 unsightly houses in Berlin ; the result is this comely 
 and conspicuously stately city, with its security from 
 conflagrations and break-downs. It is built of 
 architectural Gibraltars. The Building Commis- 
 sioners inspect while the building is going up. It 
 has been found that this is better than to wait till 
 it falls down. These people are full of whims. ^ 
 
 One is not allowed to cram poor folk into 
 cramped and dirty tenement houses. Each indi- 
 vidual must have just so many cubic feet of room- 
 space, and sanitary inspections are systematic and 
 frequent. 
 
 Everything is orderly. The fire brigade march 
 
 s 2 
 
260 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 m rank, curiously uniformed, and so grave is their 
 demeanour that they look like a Salvation Army 
 under conviction of sin. People tell me that ^Yhen 
 a fire alarm is sounded, the firemen assemhle 
 calmly, answer to their names when the roll is 
 called, then procesd to the fire. There they are 
 ranked up, military fashion, and told off in detach- 
 ments hy the chief, who parcels out to the detach- 
 ments the several parts of the work which they are 
 to undertake in putting out that fire. This is all 
 done with low- voiced propriety, and strangers think 
 these people are working a funeral. As a rule the 
 fire is confined to a single floor in these great 
 masses of bricks and masonry, and consequently 
 there is Httle or no interest attaching to a fire here 
 for the rest of the occupants of the house. 
 
 There are abundance of newspapers in Berlin, 
 and there was also a newsboy, but he died. At 
 intervals of half a mile on the thoroughfares there 
 are booths, and it is at these that you buy your 
 papers. There are plenty of theatres, but they do 
 not advertise in a loud way. There are no big 
 posters of any kind, and the display of vast type 
 and of pictures of actors and performance, framed 
 on a big scale and done in rainbow colours, is a 
 thing unknown. If the big show-bills existed there 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 261 
 
 would be no place to exhibit them ; for there are no 
 poster-fences, and one would not be allowed to dis- 
 figure dead walls with them. Unsightly things are 
 forbidden here ; Berlin is a rest to the eye. 
 
 And yet the saunterer can easily find out what 
 is going on at the theatres. All over the city, at 
 short distances apart, there are neat round pillars 
 eighteen feet high and about as thick as a hogs- 
 head, and on these the little black-and-white 
 theatre bills and other notices are posted. One 
 generally finds a group around each pillar read- 
 ing these things. There are plenty of things in 
 Berlin worth importing to America. It is these 
 that I have particularly wished to make a note 
 of. When Buffalo Bill was here his biggest poster 
 was probably not larger than the top of an ordinary 
 trunk. 
 
 There is a multiplicity of clean and comfortable 
 horse-cars, but whenever you think you know where 
 a car is going to, you would better stop ashore, 
 because that car is not going to that place at all. 
 The car-routes are marvellously intricate, and often 
 the drivers get lost and are not heard of for years. 
 The signs on the cars furnish no details as to the 
 course of the journey ; they name the end of it, and 
 then experiment around to see how much territory 
 
262 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 they can cover before they get there. The con- 
 ductor will collect your fare over again, every few 
 miles, and give you a ticket which he hasn't 
 apparently kept any record of, and you keep it till 
 an inspector comes aboard by-and-by and tears a 
 corner off it (which he does not keep), then you 
 throw the ticket away and get ready to buy another. 
 Brains are of no value when you are trying to 
 navigate Berlin in a horse-car. When the ablest of 
 Brooklyn's editors was here on a visit he took a 
 horse-car in the early morning and wore it out try- 
 ing to go to a point in the centre of the city. He 
 was on board all day and spent many dollars in 
 fares, and then did not arrive at the place which 
 he had started to go to. This is the most thorough 
 way to see Berlin, but it is also the most expensive. 
 
 But there are excellent features about the car 
 system, nevertheless. The car will not stop for you 
 to get on or off, except at certain places a block or 
 two apart, where there is a sign to indicate that 
 that is a halting station. This system saves many 
 bones. There are twenty places inside the car; 
 when these seats are filled, no more can enter. 
 Four or five persons may stand on each platform— 
 the law decrees the number— and when these 
 standing places are all occupied the next applicant 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 263 
 
 is refused. As there is no crowding, and as no 
 rowdyism is allowed, women stand on the platforms 
 as well as men ; they often stand there when there 
 are vacant seats inside, for these places are com- 
 fortable, there being little or no jolting. A native 
 tells me that when the first car was put on, thirty 
 or forty years ago, the public had such a terror of 
 it that they didn't feel safe inside of it, or outside 
 either. They made the company keep a man at 
 every crossing with a red flag in his hand. Nobody 
 would travel in the car except convicts on the way 
 to the gallows. This made business in only one 
 direction, and the car had to go back hght. To 
 save the company, the city government transferred 
 the convict cemetery to the other end of the line. 
 This made traffic in both directions, and kept the 
 company from going under. This sounds like some 
 of the information which travelling foreigners are 
 furnished with in America. To my mind it has a 
 doubtful ring about it. 
 
 The first-class cab is neat and trim, and has 
 leather-cushion seats and a swift horse. The 
 second-class cab is an ugly and lubberly vehicle, 
 and is always old. It seems a strange thing that 
 they have never built any new ones. Still, if such 
 a thing were done everybody that had time to flock 
 
264 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 would flock to see it, and that would make a crowd, 
 and the police do not Hke crowds and disorder here. 
 If there were an earthquake in Berlin the police 
 would take charge of it, and conduct it in that sort 
 of orderly way that would make you think it was a 
 prayer meeting. That is what an earthquake 
 generally ends in, but this one would be different 
 from those others ; it would be kind of soft and 
 self-contained, like a republican praying for a 
 mugwump. 
 
 For a course (a quarter of an hour or less), one 
 pays twenty-five cents in a first-class cab, and fifteen 
 cents in a second-class. The first-class will take 
 you along faster, for the second-class horse is old— 
 always old— as old as his cab, some authorities say 
 —and ill-fed and weak. He has been a first-class 
 once, but has been degraded to second-class for 
 long and faithful service. 
 
 Still, he must take you as far for fifteen cents 
 as the other horse takes you for twenty-five. If he 
 can't do his fifteen-minute distance in fifteen 
 minutes, he must still do the distance for the 
 fifteen cents. Any stranger can check the distance 
 off— by means of the most curious map I am ac- 
 quainted with. It is issued by the city government 
 and can be bought in any shop for a trifle. In it 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 265 
 
 every street is sectioned off, like a string of long 
 beads of different colours. Each long bead repre- 
 sents a minute's travel, and when you have covered 
 fifteen of the beads you have got your money's 
 worth. This map of Berlin is a gay-coloured 
 maze, and looks like pictures of the circulation of 
 the blood. 
 
 The streets are very clean. They are kept so— 
 not by prayer and talk, and the other New York 
 methods, but by daily and hourly work with 
 scrapers and brooms ; and when an asphalted street 
 has been tidily scraped after a rain or a light snow- 
 fall, they scatter clean sand over it. This saves 
 some of the horses from falling down. In fact, this 
 is a city government which seems to stop at no 
 expense where the pubKc convenience, comfort, and 
 health are concerned — except in one detail. That 
 is the naming of the streets and the numbering of 
 the houses. Sometimes the name of a street will 
 change in the middle of a block. You will not find 
 it out till you get to the next corner and discover 
 the new name on the wall, and of course you don't 
 know just when the change happened. 
 
 The names are plainly marked on the corners — 
 on all the corners— there are no exceptions. But 
 the numbering of the houses— there has never been 
 
266 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 anything like it since original chaos. It is not pos- 
 sible that it was done by this wise city government. 
 At first one thinks it was done by an idiot ; but 
 there is too much variety about it for that ; an idiot 
 could not think of so many different ways of making 
 confusion and propagating blasphemy. The num"^ 
 bers run up one side the street and down the other. 
 That is endurable, but the rest isn't. They often 
 use one number for three or four houses— and some- 
 times they put the number on only one of the houses, 
 and let you guess at the others. Sometimes they 
 put a number on a house- 4, for instance— then put 
 46f, 4^, 4c, on the succeeding houses, and one be- 
 comes old and decrepit before he finally arrives at 
 5. A result of this systemless system is, that 
 when you are at No. 1 in a street, you haven't any 
 idea how far it may be to No. 150 ; it may be only 
 six or eight blocks, it may be a couple of miles. 
 Frederick Street is long, and is one of the great 
 thoroughfares. The other day a man put up his 
 money behind the assertion that there were more 
 refreshment places in that street than numbers on 
 the houses— and he won. There were 254 numbers 
 and 257 refreshment places. Yet, as I have said, it 
 is a long street. 
 
 But the worst feature of all this complex busi- 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 267 
 
 nessis, that inBcrlin the numbers donottravcl in any 
 one direction ; no, they travel along until they get 
 to 50 or 60, perhaps, then suddenly you find your- 
 self up in the hundreds— 140, maybe ; the next will 
 be 139— then you perceive by that sign that the 
 numbers are now travelling towards you from the 
 opposite direction. They will keep that sort of 
 insanity up as long as you travel that street ; every 
 now and then the numbers will turn and run the 
 other way. As a rule there is an arrow under the 
 number, to show by the direction of its flight which 
 way the numbers are proceeding. There are a 
 good many suicides in Berlin-I have seen six re- 
 ported in a single day. There is always a deal of 
 learned and laborious arguing and ciphering going 
 on as to the cause of this state of things. If they 
 will set to work and number their houses in a 
 rational way, perhaps they will find out what was 
 the matter. 
 
 More than a month ago Berlin began to prepare 
 to celebrate Professor Yirchow's seventieth birth- 
 day. When the birthday arrived, the middle of 
 October, it seemed to me that all the world of science 
 arrived with it ; deputation after deputation came, 
 bringing the homage and reverence of far cities and 
 centres of learning, and during the whole of a long 
 
268 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 day the hero of it sat and received such witness of 
 his greatness as has seldom heen vouchsafed to any 
 man in any walk of life in any time ancient or 
 modern. These demonstrations were continued in 
 one form or another day after day, and were 
 presently merged in similar demonstrations to his 
 twin in science and achievement, Professor Helm- 
 holtz, whose seventieth birthday is separated from 
 Virchow's by only about three weeks ; so nearly as 
 this did these two extraordinary men come to being 
 born together. Two such births have seldom sig^ 
 nalised a single year in human history. 
 
 But perhaps the final and closing demonstra- 
 tion was peculiarly grateful to them. This was a 
 Commers given in their honour the other night, 
 by a thousand students. It was held in a huge 
 hall, very long and very lofty, which* had five 
 galleries, far above everybody's head, which were 
 crowded with ladies— four or five hundred, I 
 judged. 
 
 It was beautifully decorated with clustered flags 
 and various ornamental devices, and was brilHantly 
 lighted. On the spacious floor of this place were 
 ranged, in files, innumerable tables, seating twenty- 
 four persons each, extending from one end of the 
 great hall clear to the other, and with narrow aisles 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 269 
 
 between the files. In the centre, on one side, was a 
 high and tastefully decorated platform twenty or 
 thirty feet long, with a long table on it behind which 
 sat the half dozen chiefs of the givers of the Com- 
 mers in the rich mediaeval costumes of as many dif- 
 ferent college corps. Behind these youths a band 
 of musicians was concealed. On the floor, directly 
 in front of this platform, were half a dozen tables 
 which were distinguished from the outlying conti- 
 nent of tables by being covered instead of left naked. 
 Of these the central table was reserved for the two 
 heroes of the occasion and twenty particularly emi- 
 nent professors of the Berlin University, and the 
 other covered tables were for the occupancy of a 
 hundred less distinguished professors. 
 
 I was glad to be honoured with a place at the 
 table of the two heroes of the occasion, although I 
 was not really learned enough to deserve it. In- 
 deed there was a pleasant strangeness in being in 
 such company ; to be thus associated with twenty- 
 three men who forget more every day than I ever 
 knew. Yet there was nothing embarrassing about 
 it, because loaded men and empty ones look about 
 alike, and I knew that to that multitude there I was 
 a professor. It required but little art to catch the 
 ways and attitude of those men and imitate them, 
 
270 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 and I had no difficulty in looking as much like a 
 professor as anybody there. 
 
 We arrived early ; so early that only Professors 
 Virchow and Helmholtz and a dozen guests of the 
 special tables were ahead of us, and three or four 
 hundred students. But people were arriving in 
 floods, now, and within fifteen minutes all but the 
 special tables were occupied, and the great house 
 was crammed, the aisles included. It was said that 
 there were four thousand men present. It was a 
 most animated scene, there is no doubt about that ; 
 it was a stupendous beehive. At , each end of 
 each table stood a corps student in the uniform of 
 his corps. These quaint costumes are of brilliant- 
 coloured silks and velvets, with sometimes a high 
 plumed hat, sometimes a broad Scotch cap, with a 
 great plume wound about it, sometimes— oftenest— 
 a little shallow silk cap on the tip of the crown, like 
 an inverted saucer ; sometimes the pantaloons are 
 snow-white, sometimes of other colours ; the boots 
 in all cases come up well above the knee ; and in 
 all cases also white gauntlets are worn ; the sword 
 is a rapier with a bowl-shaped guard for the hand, 
 painted in several colours. Each corps has a uniform 
 of its own, and all are of rich material, brilhant in 
 colour, and exceedingly picturesque ; for they are 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 271 
 
 survivals of the vanished costumes of the Middle 
 Ages, and they reproduce for us the time when men 
 were beautiful to look at. The student who stood 
 guard at our end of the table was of grave coun- 
 tenance and great frame and grace of form, and he 
 was doubtless an accurate reproduction, clothes 
 and all, of some ancestor of his of two or three 
 centuries ago— a reproduction as far as the out- 
 side, the animal man, goes, I mean. 
 
 As I say, the place was now crowded. The 
 nearest aisle was packed with students standing up, 
 and they made a fence which shut off the rest of 
 the house from view. As far down this fence as 
 you could see, all these wholesome young faces were 
 turned in one direction, all these intent and wor- 
 shipping eyes were centred upon one spot— the place 
 where Virchow and Helmholtz sat. The boys 
 seemed lost to everything, unconscious of their own 
 existence; they devoured these two intellectual 
 giants with their eyes, they feasted upon them, and 
 the worship that was in their hearts shone in their 
 faces. It seemed to me that I would rather be 
 flooded with a glory like that, instinct with sincerity, 
 innocent of self-seeking, than win a hundred battles 
 and break a million hearts. 
 
 There was a big mug of beer in front of each of 
 
2/2 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 us, and more to come when wanted. There was 
 also a quarto pamphlet containing the words of the 
 songs to be sung. After the names of the officers 
 of the feast were these words in large type : 
 
 Wdhrend des Kommerses herrscht allgemeiner 
 Burgfriede, 
 
 I was not able to translate this to my satisfaction, 
 but a professor helped me out. This was his ex- 
 planation : The students in uniform belong to dif- 
 ferent college corps; not all students belong to 
 corps ; none join the corps except those who enjoy 
 fighting. The corps students fight duels with swords 
 every week, one corps challenging another corps to 
 furnish a certain number of duellists for the occasion, 
 and it is only on this battle-field that students of 
 different corps exchange courtesies. In common life 
 they do not drink with each other or speak. The 
 above line now translates itself: There is truce 
 during the Commers, war is laid aside, and fellow- 
 ship takes its place. 
 
 Now the performance began. The concealed 
 band played a piece of martial music ; then there 
 was a pause. The students on the platform rose to 
 their feet, the middle one gave a toast to the Emperor, 
 then all the house rose, mugs in hand. At the call 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 273 
 
 ' One — two — three ! ' all glasses were drained and 
 then brought down with a slam on the tables in 
 unison. The result was as good an imitation of 
 thunder as I have ever heard. From now on, 
 during an hour, there was singing, in mighty chorus. 
 During each interval between songs a number of the 
 special guests — the professors — arrived. There 
 seemed to be some signal whereby the students on 
 the platform were made aware that a professor had 
 arrived at the remote door of entrance ; for you 
 would see them suddenly rise to their feet, strike an 
 erect military attitude, then draw their swords ; the 
 swords of all their brethren standing guard at the 
 innumerable tables would flash from the scabbards 
 and be held aloft — a handsome spectacle. Three 
 clear bugle notes would ring out, then all these swords 
 would come down with a crash,- twice repeated, on 
 the tables, and be uplifted and held aloft again ; 
 then in the distance you would see the gay uniforms 
 and uplifted swords of a guard of honour, clearing 
 the way and conducting the guest down to his place. 
 The songs were stirring ; the immense outpour from 
 young life and young lungs, the crash of swwds and 
 the thunder of the beer-mugs, gradually worked a 
 body up to what seemed the last possible summit of 
 excitement. It surely seemed to me that I had 
 
 T 
 
274 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 reached that summit, that I had reached my limit, 
 and that there was no higher Hft desirable for me. 
 When apparently the L.st eminent guest had long 
 ago taken his place, again those three bugle blasts 
 rang out, and once more the swords leaped from their 
 scabbards. Who might this late comer be ? No- 
 body was interested to inquire. Still, indolent eyes 
 were turned towards the distant entrance ; we saw 
 the silken gleam and the lifted swords of a guard of 
 honour ploughing through the remote crowds. Then 
 we saw that end of the house rising to its feet ; saw 
 it rise abreast the advancmg guard all along, like a 
 wave. This supreme honour had been offered to no 
 one before. Then there was an excited whisper at 
 our table — ' Mommsen ! ' and the whole house rose. 
 Eose and shouted and stamped and clapped, and 
 banged the beer-mugs. Just simply a storm. Then 
 the little man with his long hair and Emersonian 
 face edged his way past us and took his seat. I 
 could have touched him with my hand — Mommsen ! 
 — think of it ! 
 
 This was one of those immense surprises that can 
 happen only a few times in one's life. I was not 
 dreaming of him, he was to me only a giant myth, 
 a world-shadowing spectre, not a reality. The sur- 
 prise of it all can be only comparable to a man's 
 
THE GERMAN CHICAGO 275 
 
 suddenly coming upon Mont Blanc, with its awful 
 form towering into the sky, when he didn't suspect 
 he was in its neighbourhood. I would have walked 
 a great many miles to get a sight of him, and here 
 he was, without trouble or tramp or cost of any kind. 
 Here he was, clothed in a Titanic, deceptive modesty 
 which made him look like other men. Here he 
 was, carrying the Eoman world and all the Caesars 
 in his hospitable skull, and doing it as easily as 
 that other luminous vault, the skull of the universe, 
 carries the Milky Way and the constellations. 
 
 One of the professors said that once upon a time 
 an American young lady was introduced to Momm- 
 sen, and found herself badly scared and speechless. 
 She dreaded to see his mouth unclose, for she was 
 expecting him to choose a subject several miles 
 above her comprehension, and didn't suppose he 
 couU get down to the world that other people lived 
 in ; but when his remark came, her terrors disap- 
 peared : * Well, how do you do ? Have you read 
 Howells's last book ? I think it's his best.' 
 
 The active ceremonies of the evening closed with 
 the speeches of welcome, delivered by two students, 
 and the replies made by Professors Virchow and 
 Helmholtz. 
 
 Virchow has long been a member of the city 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE GERMAN CHICAGO 
 
 government of Berlin. He works as hard for the 
 city as does any other Berlin alderman, and gets 
 the same pay— nothing. I don't know that we in 
 America could venture to ask our most illustrious 
 citizen to serve in a board of aldermen, and if we 
 might venture it I am not positively sure that we 
 could elect him. But here the municipal system is 
 such that the best men in the city consider it an 
 honour to serve gratis as aldermen, and the people 
 have the good sense to prefer these men, and to elect 
 them year after year. As a result, Berlin is a 
 thoroughly well-governed city. It is a free city; 
 its affairs are not meddled with by the State; 
 they are managed by its own citizens, and after 
 methods of their own devising. 
 
A PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF 
 ENGLAND 
 
 Hartford: Nov. 6, 1887. 
 Madam— You will remember that last May Mr. 
 Edward Bright, the clerk of the Inland Eevenue 
 Office, wrote me about a tax which he said was due 
 from me to the Government on books of mine pub- 
 lished in London— that is to say, an income tax on 
 the royalties. I do not know Mr. Bright, and it is 
 embarrassing to me to correspond with strangers ; 
 for I was raised in the country and have always 
 lived there, the early part in Marion county, 
 Missouri, before the war, and this part in Hartford 
 county, Connecticut, near Bloomfield, and about eight 
 miles this side of Farmington, though some call it 
 nine, which it is impossible to be, for I have walked 
 it many and many a time in considerably under 
 three hours, and General Hawley says he has done 
 it in two and a quarter, which is not lik-lv : po i i - 
 
278 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 
 
 seemed best that I write your Majesty. It is true 
 that I do not know your Majesty personally, but I 
 have met the Lord Mayor, and if the rest of the 
 family are like him, it is but just that it should be 
 named royal ; and likewise plain that in a family 
 matter like this, I cannot better forward my case 
 than to frankly carry it to the head of the family 
 itself. I have also met the Prince of Wales once, in 
 the fall of 1873, but it was not in any familiar way, 
 but in a quite informal way, being casual, and was, 
 of course, a surprise to us both. It was in Oxford 
 Street, just where you come out of Oxford into Ee- 
 gent Circus, and just as he turned up one side of the 
 circle at the head of a procession, I went down the 
 other side on the top of an omnibus. He will re- 
 member me on account of a grey coat with flap 
 pockets that I wore, as I was the only person on 
 the omnibus that had on that kind of a coat; I re- 
 member him, of course, as easy as I would a comet. 
 He looked quite proud and satisfied, but that is not 
 to be wondered at, he has a good situation. And 
 once I called on your Majesty, but you were out. 
 
 But that is no matter, it happens with everybody. 
 However, I have wandered a little away from what 
 I started about. It was this way. Young Bright 
 wrote my London publishers, Chatto and "Windus— 
 
PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 279 
 
 their place is the one on the left as you come doNvn 
 Piccadilly, about a block and a half above where 
 the minstrel show is-he wrote them that he wanted 
 them to pay income tax on the royalties of some 
 foreign authors, namely, 'Miss De La Eame 
 (Ouida), Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Mr. Francis 
 Bret Harte, and Mr. Mark Twain.' Well, Mr. 
 Chatto diverted him from the others, and tried to 
 divert him from me, but in this case he failed. So 
 then young Bright wrote me. And not only that, 
 but he sent me a printed document the size of a 
 newspaper, for me to sign, all over in different 
 places. Well, it was that kind of a document that 
 the more you study it the more it undermines you, 
 and makes everything seem uncertain to you ; and 
 so, while in that condition, and really not respon- 
 sible for my acts, I wrote Mr. Chatto to pay the tax, 
 and charge to me. Of course my idea was, that it 
 was for only one year, and that the tax would be 
 only about one per cent, or along there somewhere, 
 but last night I met Professor Sloane of Princeton 
 —you may not know him, but you have probably 
 seen him every now and then, for he goes to Eng- 
 land a good deal ; a large man and very handsome, 
 and absorbed in thought, and if you have noticed 
 such a man on platforms after the train is gone, 
 
2So PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 
 
 that is the one, he generally gets left, like all those 
 speciahsts and other scholars who know everything 
 but how to apply it-and he said it was a back tax 
 lot three years, and not one percent, but two and a 
 half ! 
 
 That gave what had seemed a Httle matter a 
 new aspect. I then began to study the printed docu- 
 ment again, to see if I could find anything in it 
 that might modify my case, and I had what seems 
 to be a quite promising success. For instance, it 
 opens thus— pohte and courteous, the way those 
 English Government documents always are— I do 
 not say that to hear myself talk, it is just the fact, 
 and it is a credit : 
 
 'To Mb. Make Twain: IN PUKSUANCE of 
 the Acts of Parhament for granting to Her Majesty 
 Duties and Profits,' &c. 
 
 I had not noticed that before. My idea had 
 been that it was for the Government, and so I wrote 
 to the Government ; but now I saw that it was a 
 private matter, a family matter, and that the pro- 
 ceeds went to yourself, not the Government. I 
 would always rather treat with principals, and lam 
 glad I noticed that clause. With a principal one 
 can always get at a fair and right understanding, 
 whether it is about potatoes, or continents, or any 
 
PETITION TO THE QUEEN OE ENGLAND 281 
 
 of those things, or something entirely different ; for 
 the size or nature of the thing does not affect the 
 fact ; whereas, as a rule, a subordinate is more or 
 less troublesome to satisfy. And yet this is not 
 against them, but the other way. They have their 
 duties to do, and must be harnessed to rules, and 
 not allowed any discretion. Why, if your Majesty 
 should equip young Bright with discretion— I mean 
 his own discretion — it is an even guess that he would 
 discretion you out of house and home in two or three 
 years. He would not mean to get the family into 
 straits, but that would be the usphot, just the same. 
 Now then, with Bright out of the way, this is not 
 going to be any Irish question ; it is going to be settled 
 pleasantly and satisfactorily for all of us, and when 
 it is finished your Majesty is going to stand with the 
 American people just as you have stood for fifty years, 
 and surely no monarch can require better than that 
 of an alien nation. They do not all pay a British 
 income tax, but the most of them will in time, for we 
 have shoals of new authors coming along every year ; 
 and of the population of your Canada, upwards of 
 four-fifths are wealthy Americans, and more going 
 there all the time. 
 
 Well, another thing which I noticed in the docu- 
 ment was an item about ' Deductions.' I will come 
 
282 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 
 
 to that presently, your Majesty. And another thing 
 was this : that Authors are not mentioned in the 
 document at alh No, we have 'Quarries, Mines, 
 Iron Works, Salt Springs, Alum Mines, Water 
 Works, Canals, Docks, Drams, Levels, Fishings, 
 Fah'S, Tohs, Bridges, Ferries,' and so forth and so 
 forth and so on — well, as much as a 3'ard or a yard 
 and a half of them, I should think— anyway a very 
 large quantity or number. I read along— down, and 
 down, and down the list, further, and further, and 
 further, and as I approached the bottom my hopes 
 began to rise higher and higher, because I saw that 
 everything in England, ^/^a^ far, was taxed by name 
 and in detail, except, perhaps, the family, and may 
 be Parhament, and yet stih no mention of Authors. 
 Apparently they were going to be overlooked. And 
 sure enough, they were ! My heart gave a great 
 bound. But I was too soon. There was a footnote, 
 in Mr. Bright's hand, which said : ' You are taxed 
 under Schedule D, Section 14.' I turned to that 
 place, and found these three things : * Trades, Offices, 
 Gas Works.' 
 
 Of course, after a moment's reflection, hope came 
 up again, and then certainty : Mr. Bright was in 
 error, and clear off the track; for Authorship is ( 
 not a Trade, it is an inspiration ; Authorship does 
 
PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 283 
 
 not keep an Office, its habitation is all out under 
 the sky, and everywhere where the winds are blow- 
 ing and the sun is shining and the creatures of God 
 are free. Now then, since I have no Trade and 
 keep no Office, I am not taxable under Schedule D, 
 Section 14. Your Majesty sees that ; so I will go on 
 to that other thing that I spoke of, the ' Deductions ' 
 —deductions from my tax which I may get allowed, 
 under conditions. Mr. Bright says all deductions 
 to be claimed by me must be restricted to the pro- 
 visions made in Paragraph No. 8, entitled 'Wear ami 
 Tear of Machinery or Plant.' This is curious, and 
 shows how far he has gotten away on his wrong 
 course after once he has got started wrong; for 
 Offices and Trades do not have Plant, they do not 
 have Machinery, such a thing was never heard of; 
 and, moreover, they do not wear and tear. You 
 see that, your Majesty, and that it is true. Here 
 is the Paragraph No. 8 : 
 
 * Amount claimed as a deduction for diminished 
 value by reason of Wear and Tear, where the Machi- 
 nery or Plant belongs to the Person or Company 
 carrying on the Concern, or is let to such Person or 
 Company so that the Lessee is bound to maintain 
 and deliver over the same in good condition:— 
 Amount £ ' 
 
284 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 
 
 There it is — the very words. 
 
 I could answer Mr. Bright thus : 
 
 It is my pride to say that my Brain is my Plant; 
 and I do not claim any deduction for diminished 
 value by reason of Wear and Tear, for the reason 
 that it does not wear and tear, but stays sound and 
 whole all the time. Yes, I could say to him, my 
 Brain is my Plant, my Skull is my Workshop, my 
 Hand is my Machinery, and I am the Person carry- 
 ing on the Concern ; it is not leased to anybody, 
 and so there is no Lessee bound to maintain and 
 deliver over the same in good condition. There ! 
 I do not wish to any way overrate this argument 
 and answer, dashed off just so, and not a word of 
 it altered from the way I first wrote it, your Majesty, 
 but, indeed, it does seem to pulverise that young 
 fellow, you can see that yourself. But that is all 
 I say ; I stop there ; I never pursue a person after 
 I have got him down. 
 
 Having thus shown your Majesty that lam not 
 taxable, but am the victim of the error of a clerk 
 who mistakes the nature of my commerce, it only 
 remains for me to beg that you will of your justice 
 annul my letter that I spoke of, so that my pubhsher 
 can keep back that tax-money which, in the con- 
 fusion and aberration caused by the document, I 
 
PETITION TO THE QUEEN OE ENGLAND 285 
 
 ordered him to pay. You will not miss the sum, 
 but this is a hard year for authors ; and as for 
 lectures, I do not suppose your Majesty ever saw 
 such a dull season. 
 
 "With always great, and ever increasing, respect, 
 I beg to sign myself your Majesty's servant to com- 
 mand, Maek Twain. 
 
 Her Majesty the Queen, London. 
 
287 
 
 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL, 
 
 If I were required to guess off-hand, and without 
 collusion with higher minds, what is the bottom 
 cause of the amazing material and intellectual 
 advancement of the last fifty years, I should guess 
 that it was the modern-born and previously non- 
 existent disposition on the part of men to believe 
 that a new idea can have value. With the long 
 roll of the mighty names of history present in our 
 minds, we are not privileged to doubt that for the 
 past twenty or thirty centuries every conspicuous 
 civiHsation in the world has produced intellects able 
 to invent and create the things which make our 
 day a wonder; perhaps we may be justified in 
 inferring, then„that the reason they did not do it 
 was that the public reverence for old ideas and 
 hostility to new ones always stood in their way, 
 and was a wall they could not break down or cHmb 
 over. The prevailing tone of old books regarding 
 
288 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 new ideas is one of suspicion and uneasiness at 
 times, and at other times contempt. By contrast, 
 our day is indifferent to old ideas, and even con- 
 siders that their age makes their value question- 
 able, but jumps at a new idea with enthusiasm and 
 high hope— a hope which is high because it has 
 not been accustomed to being disappointed. I 
 make no guess as to just when this disposition was 
 born to us, but it certainly is ours, was not possessed 
 by any century before us, is our peculiar mark and 
 badge, and is doubtless the bottom reason why we 
 are a race of lightning- shod Mercuries, and proud 
 of it— instead of being, like our ancestors, a race of 
 plodding crabs, and proud of that. 
 
 So recent is this change from a three or four 
 thousand year twihght to the flash and glare of open 
 day that I have walked in both, and yet am not old. 
 Nothing is to-day as it was when I was an urchin ; 
 but when I was an urchin, nothing was much 
 different from what it had always been in this 
 world. Take a single detail, for example— medi- 
 cine. Galen could have come into my sick-room at 
 any time during my first seven years— I mean any 
 day w^hen it wasn't fishing weather, and there 
 wasn't any choice but school or sickness— and he 
 could have sat down there and stood my doctor's 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY EOSSIL 289 
 
 watch without asking a question. He would have 
 smelt around among the wilderness of cups and 
 bottles and phials on the table and the shelves, and 
 missed not a stench that used to glad him two thou- 
 sand years before, nor discovered one that was of a 
 later date. He would have examined me, and run 
 across only one disappointment— I was already sali- 
 vated ; I would have him there ; for I was always 
 salivated, calomel was so cheap. He would get out 
 his lancet then ; but I would have him again ; our 
 family doctor didn't allow blood to accumulate in 
 the system. However, he could take dipper and 
 ladle, and freight me up with old familiar doses that 
 had come down from Adam to his time and mine ; 
 and he could go out with a wheelbarrow and gather 
 weeds and offal, and build some more, while those 
 others were getting in their work. And if our 
 reverend doctor came and found him there, he would 
 be dumb with awe, and would get down and worship 
 him. Whereas, if Galen should appear among 
 us to-day, he could not stand anybody's watch ; he 
 would inspire no awe ; he would be told he was a 
 back number, and it would surprise him to see 
 that that fact counted against him, instead of in 
 his favour. He wouldn't know our medicines; 
 he wouldn't know our practice; and the first 
 
 u 
 
290 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 time he tried to introduce his own, we would hang 
 him. 
 
 This introduction brings me to my literary 
 rehc. It is a Dictionary of Medicine, by Dr. James, 
 of London, assisted by Mr. Boswell's Doctor Samuel 
 Johnson, and is a hundred and fifty years old, it 
 having been published at the time of the rebellion 
 of '45. If it had been sent against the Pretender's 
 troops there probably wouldn't have been a sur- 
 vivor. In 1861 this deadly book was still working 
 the cemeteries — down in Virginia. For three 
 generations and a half it had been going quietly 
 along, enriching the earth with its slain. Up to 
 its last free day it was trusted and believed in, and 
 its devastating advice taken, as was shown by 
 notes inserted between its leaves. But our troops 
 captured it and brought it home, and it has been 
 out of business since. These remarks from its 
 preface are in the true spirit of the olden time, 
 sodden with worship of the old, disdain of the 
 new : 
 
 * If we inquire into the Improvements which 
 have been made by the Moderns, we shall be forced 
 to confess that we have so little Keason to value 
 ourselves bej^ond the Antients, or to be tempted to 
 contemn them, that we cannot give stronger or 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY EOSSIL 291 
 
 more convincing Proofs of our own Ignorance, as 
 well as our Pride. 
 
 ' Among all the sj^stematical Writers, I think 
 there are very few who refuse the Preference to 
 Hieron, Fahricias ah Aquapendente, as a Person of 
 unquestion'd Learning and Judgment ; and yet is 
 he not asham'd to let his Readers know that Celsus 
 among the Latins, Paulus Aegineta among the 
 Greeks, and Alhucasis among the Arabians, whom 
 I am unwilling to place among the Moderns, tho' 
 he liv'd but six hundred Years since, are the 
 Triumvirate to whom he principally stand§ in- 
 debted, for the Assistance he had receiv'd from 
 them in composing his excellent Book. 
 
 ' [In a previous paragraph are puffs of Galen, 
 Hippocrates, and other debris of the Old Silurian 
 Period of Medicine.] How many Operations are 
 there now in Use which were unknown to the 
 Antients ? ' 
 
 That is true. The surest way for a nation's 
 scientific men to prove that they were proud and 
 ignorant was to claim to have found out something 
 fresh in the course of a thousand years or so. 
 Evidently the peoples of this book's day regarded 
 themselves as children, and their remote ancestors 
 as the only grown-up people that had existed. Con- 
 
 u 2 
 
292 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 sider the contrast : without offence, without over- 
 egotism, our own scientific men may and do regard 
 themselves as grown people and their grandfathers 
 as children. The change here presented is pro- 
 bably the most sweeping that has ever come over 
 mankind in the history of the race. It is the utter 
 reversal, in a couple of generations, of an attitude 
 which had been maintained without challenge or 
 interruption from the earliest antiquity. It 
 amounts to creating man over again on a new 
 plan ; he was a canal boat before, he is an ocean 
 greyhound to-day. The change from reptile to 
 bird was not more tremendous, and it took longer. 
 
 It is curious. If you read between the lines 
 what this author says about Brer Albucasis, you 
 detect that in venturing to compliment him he has 
 to whistle a little t^ keep his courage up, because 
 Albucasis Miv'd but six hundred Years since,' and 
 therefore came so uncomfortably near being a 
 * modern' that one couldn't respect him without 
 risk. 
 
 Phlebotomy, Venesection — terms to signify 
 bleeding — are not often heard in our day, because 
 we have ceased to beHeve that the best way to 
 make a bank or a body healthy is to squander its ( 
 capital; but in our author's time the ph3'sician 
 
A MAJESTIC UrERARV FOSSIL 293 
 
 went around with a hatful of lancets on his person 
 all the time, and took a hack at every patient whom 
 he found still alive. He robbed his man of pounds 
 and pounds of blood at a single operation. The 
 details of this sort in this book make terrific reading. 
 Apparently even the healthy did not escape, but 
 were bled twelve times a year, on a particular day 
 of the month, and exhaustively purged besides. 
 Here is a specimen of the vigorous old-time practice ; 
 it occurs in our author's adoring biography of a 
 Doctor Aret^Bus, a licensed assassin of Homer's time, 
 or thereabouts : 
 
 ' In a Quinsey he used Venesection, and allow'd 
 the Blood to flow till the Patient was ready to faint 
 away.' 
 
 There is no harm in trying to cure a headache-— 
 in our day. You can't do it, bat you get more or 
 less entertainment out of trying, and that is some- 
 thing ; besides, you hve to tell about it, and that is 
 more. A century or so ago you could have had 
 the first of these features in rich variety, but you 
 might fail of the other once— and once would do. 
 I quote : 
 
 * As Dissections of Persons who have died of 
 severe Headachs, which have been related by 
 Authors, are too numerous to be inserted in this 
 
294 A MAJESTIC LITERARY EOSSIL 
 
 Place, we shall here abridge some of the most 
 cmious and important Observations relating to 
 this Subject, collected by the celebrated Bonetus: 
 
 The celebrated Bonetus's ' Observation No. 1 ' 
 seems to me a sufficient sample, all by itself, of 
 ^^hat people used to have to stand any time betNveen 
 the creation of the world and the birth of your father 
 and mine when they had the disastrous luck to get 
 a ' Head-ach ' : 
 
 'A certain Merchant, about forty Years of Age, 
 of a Melancholic Habit, and deeply involved in the 
 Cares of the World, was, during the Dog-days, 
 seiz'd with a violent pain of his Head, which some 
 time after obhg'd him to keep his Bed. 
 
 a, being call'd, order'd Venesection in the 
 Arms, the Application of Leeches to the Vessels of 
 his Nostrils, Forehead, and Temples, as also to 
 those behind his Ears: I likewise prescrib'd the 
 Application of Cupping-glasses, with Scarification, 
 to his Back : But, notwithstanding these Precau- 
 tions, he dy'd. If any Surgeon, skill'd in Arteri- 
 otomy, had been present, I should have also order'd 
 that Operation.' 
 
 I looked for ' Arteriotomy ' in this same Dic- 
 tionary, and found this definition, ' The opening of 
 an Artery with a View of taking away Blood.' 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 295 
 
 Here was a person who was being bled in the arms, 
 forehead, nostrils, back, temples, and behind the 
 ears, yet the celebrated Bonetus was not satisfied, 
 but wanted to open an artery, ' with a View ' to 
 inserting a pump, probably. * Notwithstanding 
 these Precautions'— he dy'd. No art of speech 
 could more quaintly convey this butcher's innocent 
 surprise. Now that we know what the celebrated 
 Bonetus did when he wanted to relieve a Head- 
 ach, it is no trouble to infer that if he wanted to 
 comfort a man that had a Stomach-ach he disem- 
 bowelled him. 
 
 I have given one ' Observation ' — a single Head- 
 ach case; but the celebrated Bonetus follows it 
 with eleven more. Without enlarging upon the 
 matter, I merely note this coincidence— they all 
 ' dy'd.' Not one of these people got well ; yet this 
 obtuse hyena sets down every little gory detail of 
 the several assassinations as complacently as if he 
 imagined he was doing a useful and meritorious 
 work in perpetuating the methods of his crimes. 
 ' Observations,' indeed ! They are confessions. 
 
 According to this book, 'the Ashes of an Ass's 
 hoof mix'd with Woman's milk cures chilblains.' 
 Length of time required not stated. Another 
 item : * The constant Use of Milk is bad for the 
 
296 A MAJESTIC LITERARY TOSSIL 
 
 Teeth, and causes them to rot, and loosens the 
 Gums.' Yet in our day habies use it constantly 
 without hurtful results. This author thinks you 
 ought to wash out your mouth with wine before 
 venturing to drink milk. Presently, when we 
 come to notice what fiendish decoctions those 
 people introduced into their stomachs by way of 
 medicine, we shall wonder that they could have 
 been afraid of milk. 
 
 It appears that they had false teeth in those 
 days. They were made of ivory sometimes, some- 
 times of bone, and were thrust into the natural 
 sockets, and lashed to each other and to the neigh- 
 bouring teeth with wires or with silk threads. 
 They were not to eat with, nor to laugh with, 
 because they dropped out when not in repose. 
 You could smile with them, but you had to prac- 
 tise first, or }'ou would overdo it. They were not 
 for business, but just decoration. They filled the 
 bill according to their lights. 
 
 This author says * the Flesh of Swine nour- 
 ishes above all other eatables.' In another place 
 he mentions a number of things, and says ' these 
 are very easy to be digested ; so is Pork.' This is 
 probably a lie. But he is pretty handy in that 
 line; and when he hasn't anything of the sort in 
 
A MAJESTIC LlTERAkV FOSSIL 29? 
 
 stock himself he gives some other expert an open- 
 ing. For instance, under the head of ' Attractives' 
 he introduces Paracelsus, who tells of a nameless 
 * Specific —quantity of it not set down— which is 
 able to draw a hundred pounds of flesh to itself — 
 distance not stated— and then proceeds, ' It hap- 
 pened in our own Days that an Attractive of this 
 Kind drew a certain Man's Lungs up into his Mouth, 
 by which he had the Misfortune to be suffocated.' 
 This is more than doubtful. In the first place, his 
 Mouth couldn't accommodate his Lungs— in fact, 
 his Hat couldn't ; secondly, his Heart being more 
 eligibly Situated, it would have got the Start of his 
 Lungs, and being a lighter Body, it would have 
 Sail'd in ahead and Occupied the Premises ; thirdly, 
 you will Take Notice, a Man with his Heart in his 
 Mouth hasn't any Eoom left for his Lungs— he has 
 got all he can Attend to; and, finally, the Man 
 must have had the Attractive in his Hat, and when 
 he saw what was going to Happen he would have 
 Eemov'd it and Sat Down on it. Indeed he would ; 
 and then how could it Choke him to Death? I 
 don't believe the thing ever happened at all. 
 
 Paracelsus adds this effort: 'I myself saw a 
 Plaister which attracted as much Water as was 
 sufficient to fill a Cistern; and by these very 
 
298 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 Attractives Branches may be torn from Trees ; 
 and, \Thicli is still more surprising, a Cow may be 
 carried up into the Air.' Paracelsus is dead now ; 
 he was always straining himself that way. 
 
 They Hked a touch of mystery along with their 
 medicine in the olden time ; and the medicme-man 
 of that day, Hke the medicine-man of our Indian 
 tribes, did what he could to meet the require- 
 ment : 
 
 'Arcanum, A Kind of Eemedy whose Manner 
 of Preparation, or singular Efficacy, is industriously 
 concealed, in order to enhance its Value. By the 
 Chymists it is generally defined a thing secret, in- 
 corporeal, and immortal, which cannot be Known 
 by Man, unless by Experience ; for it is the Virtue 
 of every thing, which operates a thousand times 
 more than the thing itself.' 
 
 To me the butt end of this explanation is not 
 altogether clear. A Httle of what they knew about 
 natural history in the early times is exposed here 
 and there in the Dictionary. 
 
 ' The Spider, It is more common than welcome 
 in Houses. Both the Spider and its Web are used in 
 Medicine : The Spider is said to avert the Paroxysms 
 of Fevers, if it be apply'd to the Pulse of the 
 Wrist, or the Temples ; but it is pecuharly recom- 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 299 
 
 mended against a Quartan, being enclosed in the 
 Shell of a Hazlenut. 
 
 ' Among approved Kemedies, I find that the 
 distill' d Water of Black Spiders is an excellent 
 Cm^e for Womids, and that this was one of the 
 choice Secrets of Sir Walter Ealeigh. 
 
 * The Spider which some call the Catcher, or 
 Wolf, being beaten into a Plaister, then sew'd up 
 in Linen, and apply'd to the Forehead or Temples, 
 prevents the Eeturns of a Tertian. 
 
 * There is another Kind of Spider, which spins 
 a white, fine, and thick Web. One of this Sort, 
 wrapp'd in Leather, and hung about the Arm, will 
 avert the Fit of a Quartan. Boil'd in Oil of Eoses, 
 and instilled into the Ears, it eases Pains in those 
 Parts. Dioscorides, Lib. 2, Cap. 68. 
 
 * Thus we find that Spiders have in all Ages 
 been celebrated for their febrifuge Virtues ; and it 
 is worthy of Eemark, that a Spider is usually 
 given to Monkeys, and is esteem'd a sovereign 
 Eemedy for the Disorders those Animals are princi- 
 pally subject to.' 
 
 Then follows a long account of how a dying 
 woman, who had suffered nine hours a day with 
 an ague during eight weeks, and who had been 
 bled dry some dozens of times meantime without 
 
3O0 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 apparent benefit, was at last forced to swallow 
 several wads of * Spiders-web,' whereupon she 
 straightway mended, and promptly got well. So 
 the sage is full of enthusiasm over the spider-webs, 
 and mentions only in the most casual way the 
 discontinuance of the daily bleedings, plainly never 
 suspecting tha^t this had anything to do with the 
 cure. 
 
 * As concerning the venomous Nature of Spiders, 
 Scaliger takes notice of a certain Species of them 
 (which he had forgotten), whose Poison was of 
 so great Force as to affect one Vincentinus thro' 
 the Sole of his Shoe, by only treading on it.' 
 
 The sage takes that in without a strain, but 
 the following case was a trifle too bulky for him, as 
 his comment reveals : 
 
 * In Gascony, observes Scaliger, there is a very 
 small Spider, which, running over a Looking-glass, 
 will crack the same by the Force of her Poison. {A 
 mere Fable.) ' 
 
 But he finds no fault with the following facts : 
 *Kemarkable is the Enmity recorded between 
 this Creature and the Serpent, as also the Toad : 
 Of the former it is reported, That, lying (as he 
 thinks securely) under the Shadow of some Tree, 
 the Spider lets herself down by her Thread, and, 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 301 
 
 striking her Proboscis or Sting into the Head, 
 with that Force and Efficacy, injecting Hkewise her 
 venomous Juice, that, wringing himself about, he 
 immediately grows giddy, and quickly after dies. 
 
 ' When the Toad is bit or stung in Fight with 
 this Creature, the Lizard, Adder, or other that is 
 poisonous, she finds rehef from Plantain, to which 
 she resorts. In her Combat with the Toad, the 
 Spider useth the same Stratagem, as with the 
 Serpent, hanging by her own Thread from the 
 Bough of some Tree, and striking her Sting into 
 her enemy's Head, upon which the other, enraged, 
 swells up, and sometimes bursts. 
 
 <To this Effect is the Relation of Erasmus, 
 which he saith he had from one of the Spectators, 
 of a Person lying along upon the Floor of his 
 Chamber, in the Summer-time, to sleep in a supine 
 Posture, when a Toad, creeping out of some green 
 Eushes, brought just before in, to adorn the 
 Chimney, gets upon his Face, and with his Feet 
 sits across his Lips. To force off the Toad, says 
 the Historian, would have been accounted sudden 
 Death to the Sleeper ; and to leave her there, very 
 cruel and dangerous ; so that upon Consultation it 
 was concluded to find out a Spider, which, together 
 with her Web, and the Window she was fasten'd 
 
302 A MAJESTIC LITERARY EOSSIL 
 
 to, was brought carefully, and so contrived as to 
 be held perpendicularly to the Man's Face ; which 
 was no sooner done, but the Spider, discovering his 
 Enemy, let himself down, and struck in his Dart, 
 afterwards betaking himself up again to his Web ; 
 the Toad swell'd, but as yet kept his Station: 
 The second Wound is given quickly after by the 
 Spider, upon which he swells yet more, but re- 
 main'd alive still.— The Spider, coming down again 
 by his Thread, gives the third Blow ; and the Toad, 
 taking off his Feet from over the Man's Mouth, 
 fell off dead.' 
 
 To which the sage appends this grave remark, 
 ' And so much for the historical Part.' Then he 
 passes on to a consideration of *the Effects and 
 Cure of the Poison.' 
 
 One of the most interesting things about this 
 tragedy is the double sex of the Toad, and also of 
 the Spider. 
 
 Now the sage quotes from one Turner : 
 
 ' I remember, when a very young Practitioner, 
 being sent for to a certain Woman, whose Custom 
 was usually, when she went to the Cellar by Candle- 
 light, to go also a Spider-hunting, setting Fire to 
 their Webs, and burning them with the Flame of 
 the Candle still as she pursued them. It happen 'd 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY EOSSIL 303 
 
 at length, after this Whimsy had been follow'd a 
 long time, one of them sold his Life much dearer 
 than those Hundreds she had destroy'd ; for, Hght- 
 ing upon the melting Tallow of her Candle, near the 
 Flame, and his legs being entangled therein, so that 
 he could not extricate himself, the Flame or Heat 
 coming on, he was made a Sacrifice to his cruel 
 Persecutor, who, dehghting her Eyes with the 
 Spectacle, still waiting for the Flame to take hold 
 of him, he presently burst with a great Crack, and 
 threw his Liquor, some into her Eyes, but mostly 
 upon her Lips ; by means of which, flinging away 
 her Candle, she cry'd out for Help, as fansying her- 
 self kill'd aheady with the Poison. However, in 
 the Night, her Lips swell' d up excessively, and one 
 of her Eyes was much inflam'd ; also her Tongue 
 and Gums were somewhat affected ; and, whether 
 from the Nausea excited by the Thoughts of the 
 Liquor getting into her Mouth, or from the poison- 
 ous Impressions communicated by the Nervous 
 Fihrillce of those Parts to those of the Ventricle, a 
 continual Vomiting attended : To take off which, 
 when I was call'd, I order'd a Glass of muU'd Sack, 
 with a Scruple of Salt of Wormwood, and some 
 hours after a Theriacal Bolus, which she flung up 
 a^^ain. I embrocated the Lips with the Oil of 
 
304 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 Scorpions mix'd with the Oil of Eoses ; and, in 
 Consideration of the Ophthalmy, the' I ^Yas not 
 certain but the Heat of the Liquor, rais'd by the 
 Flame of the Candle before the Body of the Crea- 
 ture burst, might, as well as the Venom, excite the 
 Disturbance, (altho' Mr. Boyle's Case of a Person 
 bhnded by this Liquor dropping from the Hving 
 Spider, makes the latter sufficient ;) yet observing 
 the great Tumefaction of the Lips, together with 
 the other Symptoms not likely to arise from simple 
 Heat, I was inclin'd to believe a real Poison in the 
 Case ; and therefore not daring to let her Blood in 
 the Arm [If a man's throat were cut in those old 
 days, the doctor would come and bleed the other 
 end of him]. I did, however, with good Success, 
 set Leeches to her Temples, which took off much 
 of the Inflammation ; and her Pain was likewise 
 abated, by instilling into her Eyes a thin Mucilage 
 of the Seeds of Quinces and white Poppies extracted 
 with Eose-water; yet the Swelling on the Lips 
 increased ; upon which, in the Night, she wore a 
 Cataplasm prepared by boiling the Leaves of Scor- 
 dium, Eue, and Elderflowers, and afterwards 
 thicken'd with the Meal of Vetches. In the mean 
 time, her Vomiting having left her, she had given 
 her, between whiles, a little Draught of distill'd 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 30S 
 
 Water of Carduus Benedictus and Scordium, with 
 some of the Theriaca dissolved ; and upon going off 
 of the Symptoms, an old Woman came luckily in, 
 who, with Assurance suitable to those People 
 (whose Ignorance and Poverty is their Safety and 
 Protection), took off the Dressings, promising to 
 cure her in two Days' time, altho' she made it as 
 many Weeks, yet had the Eeputation of the Cure ; 
 applying only Plantain Leaves bruis'd and mixed 
 with Cobwebs, dropping the Juice into her Eye, 
 and giving some Spoonfuls of the same inwardly, 
 two or three times a day.' 
 
 So ends the wonderful affair. Whereupon the 
 sage gives Mr. Turner the following shot — strength- 
 ening it with italics — and passes calmly on : 
 
 *J must remark iq^on this History, that the 
 Plantain, as a Cooler, tvas much more likely to 
 cure this Disorder than warmer Applications and 
 Medicines,' 
 
 How strange that narrative sounds to-day, and 
 how grotesque, when one reflects that it was a grave 
 contribution to medical 'science' by an old and 
 reputable physician ! Here was all this to-do — two 
 weeks of it — over a woman who had scorched her 
 eye and her lips with candle grease. The poor 
 wench is as elaborately dosed, bled, embrocated, 
 
3o6 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 and otherwise harried and bedevilled, as if there 
 had been really something the matter with her ; 
 and when a sensible old woman comes along at last, 
 and treats the trivial case in a sensible wa}^ the 
 educated ignoramus rails at her ignorance, serenely 
 unconscious of his own. It is pretty suggestive of 
 the former snail pace of medical progress that the 
 spider retained his terrors during three thousand 
 years, and only lost them within the last thirty or 
 forty. 
 
 Observe what imagination can do. ' This same 
 young Woman ' used to be so affected by the strong 
 (imaginary) smell which emanated from the burning 
 spiders that ' the Objects about her seem'd to turn 
 round ; she grew faint also with cold Sweats, and 
 sometimes a light Vomiting.' There could have 
 been Beer in that cellar as well as Spiders. 
 
 Here are some more of the effects of imagina- 
 tion : * Se7inertus takes Notice of the Signs of the 
 Bite or Sting of this Insect to be a Stupor or Numb- 
 ness upon the Part, with a sense of Cold, Horror, 
 or Swelling of the Abdomen, Paleness of the Face, 
 involuntary Tears, Trembling, Contractions, a 
 (****), Convulsions, cold Sweats ; but these latter 
 chiefly when the Poison has been received inwardly;' 
 whereas the modern physician holds that a few 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 307 
 
 spiders taken inwardly, by a bird or a man, will do 
 neither party any harm. 
 
 The above ' Signs ' are not restricted to spider 
 l^ites— often they merely indicate fright. 1 have 
 seen a person with a hornet in his pantaloons ex- 
 hibit them all. 
 
 ' As to the Cure, not slighting the usual Alexi- 
 pharmics taken internally, the Place bitten must 
 be immediately washed with Salt Water, or a 
 Sponge dipped in hot Yinegar, or fomented with a 
 Decoction of Mallows, Origanum, and Mother of 
 Thyme ; after which a Cataplasm must be laid on 
 of the Leaves of Bay, Kue, Leeks, and the Meal of 
 Barley, boiled with Yinegar, or of Garlick and 
 Onions, contused with Goat's Dung and fat Figs. 
 Mean time the Patient should eat Garlick and 
 drink Wine freely.' 
 
 As for me, I should prefer the spider bite. Let 
 us close this review with a sample or two of the 
 earthquakes which the old-time doctor used to in- 
 troduce into his patient when he could find room. 
 Under this head we have * Alexander's Golden 
 Antidote,' which is good for— well, pretty much 
 everything. It is probably the old original first 
 • patent-medicine. It is built as follows : 
 
 * Take of Afarabocca, Henbane, Carpobalsamum, 
 
3o8 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 each two Drams and a half; of Cloves, Opium, 
 Myrrh, Cyperus, each two Drams; of Opobal- 
 Bamum, Indian Leaf, Cinnamon, Zedoary, Ginger, 
 Coftus, Coral, Cassia, Euphorbium, Gum Traga- 
 canth. Frankincense, Styrax Calamita, Celtic, 
 Nard, Spignel, Hartwort, Mustard, Saxifrage, Dill, 
 Anise, each one Dram; of Xylaloes, Eheum, 
 Ponticum, Alipta Moschata, Castor, Spikenard, 
 Galangals, Opoponax, Anacardium, Mastich, Brim- 
 stone, Peony, Eringo, Pulp of Dates, red and white 
 Hermodactyls, Eoses, Thyme, Acorns, Pennyroyal, 
 Gentian, the Bark of the Eoot of Mandrake, 
 Germander, Valerian, Bishops Weed, Bay-Berries, 
 long and white Pepper, Xylobalsamum, Carna- 
 badium, Macodonian, Parsley-seeds, Lovage, the 
 Seeds of Eue, and Sinon, of each a Dram and a 
 half; of pure Gold, pure Silver, Pearls not per- 
 forated, the Blatta Byzantina, the Bone of the 
 Stag's Heart, of each the Quantity of fourteen 
 Grains of Wheat; of Sapphire, Emerald, and 
 Jasper Stones, each one Dram ; of Hasle-nut, two 
 Drams ; of Pellitory of Spain, Shavings of Ivory, 
 Calamus Odoratus, each the Quantity of twenty- 
 nine Grains of Wheat; of Honey or Sugar a 
 sufficient Quantity.' 
 
 Serve with a shovel. No; one might expect 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 309 
 
 such an injunction after such formidable prepara- 
 tion ; but it is not so. The dose recommended is 
 * the Quantity of an Hasle-nut.' Only that ; it is 
 because there is so much jewellery in it, no doubt. 
 
 * Aqua Limacum. Take a great Peck of Garden- 
 snails, and wash them in a great deal of Beet, and 
 make your Chimney very clean, and set a Bushel 
 of Charcoal on Fire ; and when they are tho- 
 roughly kindled, make a Hole in the Middle of the 
 Fire, and put the Snails in, and scatter more 
 Fire amongst them, and let them roast till they 
 make a Noise ; then take them out, and, with a 
 Knife and coarse Cloth, pick and wipe away all the 
 green Froth : Then break them, Shells and all, in a 
 Stone Mortar. Take also a Quart of Earth-worms, 
 and scour them with Salt, divers times over. Then 
 take two Handfuls of Angelica and lay them in the 
 Bottom of the Still ; next lay two Handfuls of 
 Celandine; next a Quart of Eosemary-flowers ; 
 then two Handfuls of Bears-foot and Agrimony; 
 then Fenugreek ; then Turmerick ; of each one 
 Ounce: Bed Dock-root, Bark of Barberry-trees, 
 Wood-sorrel, Betony, of each two Handfuls. — Then 
 lay the Snails and Worms on the Top of the Herbs ; 
 and then two Handfuls of Goose-dung, and two 
 Handfuls of Sheep-dung. Then put in thre© 
 
3ib A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 
 
 Gallons of Strong Ale, and place the pot where you 
 mean to set Fire under it : Let it stand all Night, 
 or longer ; in the Morning put in three Ounces of 
 Cloves well beaten, and a small Quantity of Saffron, 
 dry'd to Powder ; then six Ounces of Shavings of 
 Hartshorn, which must be uppermost. Fix on the 
 Head and Eefrigeratory, and distil according to 
 • Art.' 
 
 There ! The book does not say whether this is 
 all one dose, or whether you have a right to split 
 ifc and take a second chance at it, in case you 
 live. Also, the book does not seem to specify 
 what ailment it was for; but it is of no conse- 
 quence, for of course that would come out on the 
 inquest. 
 
 Upon looking further, I find that this formidable 
 nostrum is ' good for raising Flatulencies m the 
 Stomach '—meaning from the stomach, no doubt. 
 So it would appear that when our progenitors 
 chanced to swallow a sigh, they emptied a sewer 
 down their throats to expel it. It is like dislodging 
 skippers from cheese with artillery. 
 
 When you reflect that your own father had to 
 take such medicines as the above, and that you would 
 be taking them to-day yourself but for the intro- 
 duction of homoeopathy, which forced the old-school 
 
A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL Zii 
 
 doctor to stir around and learn sometliing of a 
 rational nature about his business, you may 
 honestly feel grateful that homoeopathy survived 
 the attempts of the allopathists to destroy it, even 
 though you may never employ any physician but 
 an allopathist while you live. 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 SPOTTISTVOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUAES 
 LONDON 
 
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