Lippincott's Magazine, August, 1885 Read online

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  [Note: The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber.Footnotes will be found at the end of the text.]

  LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE.

  AUGUST, 1885.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS.

  ON THIS SIDE. by F.C. BAYLOR. VIII.

  OUR VILLE. by MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT.

  THE PRIMITIVE COUPLE. by M.H. CATHERWOOD. I. PARADISE. II. FORBIDDEN FRUIT. III. THE FLAMING SWORD.

  PROBATION. by FLORENCE EARLE COATES.

  THE PIONEERS OF THE SOUTHWEST. by EDMUND KIRKE. TWO PAPERS. II.

  A PLEASANT SPIRIT. by MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

  FISHING IN ELK RIVER. by TOBE HODGE.

  ON A NOBLE CHARACTER MARRED BY LITTLENESS. by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.

  THE SCOTTISH CROFTERS. by DAVID BENNETT KING.

  MY FRIEND GEORGE RANDALL. by FRANK PARKE.

  THE WOOD-THRUSH AT SUNSET. by MARY C. PECKHAM.

  A FOREST BEAUTY. by MAURICE THOMPSON.

  OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. Daniel Webster's "Moods." by F.C.M. Feuds and Lynch-Law in the Southwest. by J.A.M. The Etymology of "Babe." by S.E.T.

  LITERATURE OF THE DAY.

  Recent Fiction.

  FOOTNOTES.

  * * * * *

  LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE.

  _AUGUST, 1885_.

  * * * * *

  ON THIS SIDE.

  VIII.

  Not the least delightful of Sir Robert's qualities was his capacity forenjoying most things that came in his way, and finding some interest inall. When Mr. Ketchum joined him in the library, where he was jottingdown "the _sobriquets_ of the American States and cities," and told himof the Niagara plan, his ruddy visage beamed with pleasure.

  "A delightful idea. Capital," he said. "I suppose I can read up a bitabout it before we start, and not go there with my eyes shut.Ni-a-ga-rah,--monstrously soft and pretty name. Isn't there something onyour shelves that would give me the information I want? But we can cometo that presently. Just now I want to find out, if I can, how thesenicknames came to be given. They must have originated in some greatpopular movement, eh? I thought I saw my way, as, for example, the'Empire State' and the 'Crescent City' and some others, but this 'SuckerState,' now, and 'Buckeye' business,--what may that mean in plainEnglish?"

  Mr. Ketchum shed what light he could on these interesting questions, andSir Robert thoughtfully ran his hands through his side-whiskers, while,with an apologetic "One moment, I beg," or "Very odd, very; that must godown verbatim," he entered the gist of Mr. Ketchum's queer remarks inhis note-book.

  On the following morning he rose with Niagara in his soul. He had morequestions to ask at the breakfast-table than anybody could answer, andwas eager to be off. Mr. Ketchum, who had that week made no less thanfifty thousand dollars by a lucky investment, was in high spirits.Captain Kendall, who had been allowed to join the party, was vastlypleased by the prospect of another week in Ethel's society. Mrs. Sykeswas tired of Fairfield, and longed to be "on the move" again, as shefrankly said. So that, altogether, it was a merry company that finallyset off.

  The very first view of "the ocean unbound" increased their pleasure toenthusiasm. Mrs. Sykes, without reservation, admitted that it was "agrand spot," and felt as though she were giving the place a certificatewhen she added, "_Quite_ up to the mark." She was out on the SuspensionBridge, making a sketch, as soon as she could get there; she took onefrom every other spot about the place; and when tired of her pencil, shestalked about with her hammer, chipping off bits of rock that promisedgeological interest. But she found her greatest amusement in the bridesthat "infested the place" (to quote from her letter to her sisterCaroline), indulged in much satirical comment on them, and, choosing onefoolish young rustic who was there as her text, wrote in her diary,"American brides like to go from the altar to some large hotel, wherethey can display their finery, wear their wedding-dresses every evening,and attract as much attention as possible. The national passion fordisplay makes them delight in anything that renders them conspicuous, nomatter how vulgar that display may be. If one must have a fools'paradise, generally known as a honeymoon, this is about as pleasant aplace as any other for it; and, as there are several runaway couplesstopping here, and the place is just on the border, this is doubtlessthe American Gretna Green, where silly women and temporarily-infatuatedmen can marry in haste, to repent at leisure."

  Mr. Heathcote gave his camera enough to do, as may be imagined. He andSir Robert traced the Niagara River from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, andphotographed it at every turn, made careful estimates of its length,breadth, depth, the flow of currents, scale of descent to the mile, wearof precipice, and time necessary for the river to retire from the fallsbusiness altogether and meander tranquilly along on a level like otherrivers. They arrayed themselves in oil-skin suits and spent anunconscionable time at the back of the Horseshoe Fall, roaring outobservations about it that were rarely heard, owing to the deafeningdin, and had more than one narrow escape from tumbling into the water inthese expeditions. They carefully bottled some of it, which theyafterward carefully sealed with red wax and duly labelled, intending toadd it to a collection of similar phials which Sir Robert had made offamous waters in many countries. They went over the mills and factoriesin the neighborhood, and Sir Robert had long confabs with the managers,of whom he asked permission to "jot down" the interesting factsdeveloped in the course of their conversations, surprising them by hisknowledge of mechanics and the subjects in hand.

  "Man alive! what do you want with _those_?" said he to one of them, akeen-faced young fellow, who was showing him the boiler-fires. Hepointed with his stick as he spoke, and rattled it briskly about thebrick-work by way of accompaniment as he went on: "Such a waste offorce, of money! downright stupidity! You don't want it. You don't needit, any more than you need an hydraulic machine tacked to the back ofyour trains. You have got water enough running past your very door to--"

  "I've told that old fool Glass that a thousand times," broke in theyoung man; "but if he wants to try and warm and light the world with agas-stove when the sun is up I guess it's no business of mine, though itdoes rile me to see the power thrown away and good coal wasted. If I hadthe capital, here's what _I_'d do. Here."

  Seizing Sir Robert's stick, the enthusiast drew a fondly-loved idealmill in the coal-dust at his feet, while Sir Robert looked and listened,differed, suggested, with keen interest, and Mr. Heathcote gave buthaughty and ignorant attention to the talk that followed.

  "Yes, that's the way of it; but Glass has lived all his life with hishead in a bag, and he can't see it. I am surprised to see you take aninterest in it. Ever worked at it?" said the man in conclusion.

  "A little," said Sir Robert affably, who could truthfully have said asmuch of anything. "Who is this Glass?"

  "Oh, he's the man that owns all this; the stupidest owl that ever lived.I wish he could catch on like you. I'd like very well to work with you,"was the reply.

  "A bumptious fellow, that," commented Mr. Heathcote when they left."He'd 'like to work with you,' indeed!"

  "A fellow with ideas. I'd like to work with him," replied his uncle;"though he isn't burdened with respect for his employers."

  Miss Noel meanwhile tied on her large straw hat, took her cane, basket,trowel, tin box, and, followed by Parsons with her sketching-apparatus,went off to hunt plants or wash in sketches, a most blissfully occupiedand preoccupied old lady.

  To Mr. Ketchum's great amusement, Miss Noel, Mrs. Sykes, and Mr.Heathcote all arrived at a particular spot within a few moments of eachother one morning, all ali
ke prepared and determined to get the view itcommanded.

  Miss Noel had said to Job _en route,_ "Do you think that I shall be ableto get a fly and drive about the country a bit? I should so like it. Arethey to be had there?"

  And he had replied, "You will have some difficulty in _not_ taking 'afly' there, I guess. The hackmen would rather drive your dead bodyaround town for nothing than let you enjoy the luxury of walking aboutunmolested. But I will see to all that."

  Accordingly, a carriage had been placed at their disposal, and they hadtaken some charming drives, in the course of which Parsons, occupyingthe box on one occasion, was seen to be peering very curiously abouther.

  "A great pity, is it not, Parsons, that we can't see all this in theautumn, when the thickets of scarlet and gold are said to be so verybeautiful?" said Miss Noel, addressing her affably.

  "Yes, mem," agreed Parsons. "And, if you please, mem, where are theestates of the gentry, as I 'ave been lookin' for ever since we camehover?"

  "Not in this part," replied Miss Noel. "The red Indians were here notvery long since. You should really get a pin-cushion of theirdescendants, those mild, dirty creatures that work in bark and beads.Buy of one that has been baptized: one shouldn't encourage them toremain heathens, you know. Your friends in England will like to seesomething made by them; and they were once very powerful and spread allover the country as far as--as--I really forget where; but I know theywere very wild and dreadful, and lived in wigwams, and wore moccasins."

  "Oh, indeed, mem!" responded Parsons, impressed by the extent of hermistress's information.

  "A wigwam is three upright poles, such as the gypsies use for theirkettles, thatched with the leaves of the palm and the plantain," MissNoel went on. "Dear me! It is very odd! I certainly remember to haveread that; but perhaps I am getting back to the Southern Americansagain, which does so vex Robert. I wonder if one couldn't see a wigwamfor one's self? It can't be plantain, after all: there is none growingabout here."

  She asked Mabel about this that evening, and the latter told her husbandhow Miss Noel was always mixing up the two continents.

  "I don't despair, Mabel. They will find this potato-patch of ours aftera while," he said good-humoredly.

  But he was less amiable when Mrs. Sykes said at dinner next day, "Ishould like to try your maize. Quite simply boiled, and eaten withbutter and salt, I am told it is quite good, really. I have heard thatthe Duke of Slumborough thought it excellent."

  "You don't say so! I am so glad to hear it! I shall make it generallyknown as far as I can. Such things encourage us to go on trying to makea nation of ourselves. It would have paralyzed all growth anddevelopment in this country for twenty years if he had thought it'nasty,'" said Job. "Foreigners can't be too particular how they expresstheir opinions about us. Over and over again we have come within an aceof putting up the shutters and confessing that it was no use pretendingthat we could go on independently having a country of our own, withdistinct institutions, peculiarities, customs, manners, and evenproductions. It would be so much better and easier to turn ourselvesover to a syndicate of distinguished foreigners who would govern usproperly,--stamp out ice-water and hot rolls from the first, as unlawfuland not agreeing with the Constitution, give us cool summers, preventchildren from teething hard, make it a penal offence to talk through thenose, and put a bunch of Bourbons in the White House, with a divineright to all the canvas-back ducks in the country. There are so manykings out of business now that they could easily give us a bankrupt oneto put on our trade dollar, or something really _sweet_ in emperors whohave seen better days. And a standing army of a hundred thousand men,all drum-majors, in gorgeous uniforms, helmets, feathers, gold lace,would certainly scare the Mexicans into caniptious and unconditionalsurrender. The more I think of it, the more delightful it seems. It ismere stupid obstinacy our people keeping up this farce ofself-government, when anybody can see that it is a perfect failure, andthat the country has no future whatever."

  "Oh, you talk in that way; but I don't think you would really like it,"said Mrs. Sykes. "Americans seem to think that they know everything:they are above taking any hints from the Old World, and get as angry aspossible with me when I point out a few of the more glaring defects thatstrike me."

  "I am surprised at that. Our great complaint is that we can't get anyadvice from Europeans. If we only had a little, even, we might in timeloom up as a fifth-rate power. But no: they leave us over here in thiswilderness without one word of counsel or criticism, or so much as asuggestion, and they ought not to be surprised that we are going to thedogs. What else can they expect?" said Mr. Ketchum.

  "Husband, dear, you were very sharp with my cousin to-day, and it wasnot like you to show temper,--at least, not temper exactly, butvexation," said Mabel to him afterward in mild rebuke. "She has told methat you quite detest the English, so that she wonders you should havemarried me. And I said that you were far too intelligent and just tocherish wrong feelings toward any people, much less my people."

  "Well, if _she_ represented England I should drop England quietly overthe rapids some day when I could no longer stand her infernalpatronizing, impertinent airs, and rid the world of a nuisance," saidMr. Ketchum, with energy. "Excuse my warmth, but that woman would poisona prairie for me. Fortunately, I happen to know that she only representsa class which neither Church nor State there has the authority to shoot,_yet_, and I am not going to cry down white wool because there are blacksheep. Look at Sir Robert, and Miss Noel, and all the rest of them, howdifferent they are."

  Captain Kendall certainly found Niagara delightful, for, owing to theabsorption of the party in their different pursuits, he was able to seemore of Ethel than he had ever done. He was so different from the menshe had known that he was a continual study to her. Instead of thestudied indifference, shy avoidance, shy advances, culminating in ablunt and straightforward declaration of "intentions," which she wouldhave thought natural in an admirer, followed by transparent, honestdelight in the event of acceptance, or manly submission to theinevitable in the event of rejection, Captain Kendall had surprised herby liking her immediately, or at least by showing that he did, andseeking her persistently, without any pretence of concealment. He talkedto her of politics, of social questions in the broadest sense, of books,scientific discoveries, his travels, and the travels of others. He readwhole volumes of poetry to her. He discoursed by the hour on the manlycharacter, its faults, merits, peculiarities, and possibilities, andthen contrasted it with the womanly one, trait for trait, and it seemedto her that women had never been praised so eloquently,enthusiastically, copiously. At no time was he in the least choked byhis feelings or at a loss for a fresh word or sentiment. Such romance,such ideality, such universality, as it were, she had never met. Whenhis admiration was most unbridled it seemed to be offered to her as therepresentative of a sex entirely perfect and lovely. Everything inheaven and earth, apparently, ministered to his passion and made himtalk all around the beloved subject with a wealth of simile andsuggestion that she had never dreamed of. But, if he gave fullexpression to his agitated feelings in these ways, he was extremelydelicate, respectful, reserved, in others. He wrapped up his heart in somany napkins, indeed, that, being a practical woman not extraordinarilygifted in the matter of imagination, she frequently lost sight of italtogether, and she sometimes failed to follow him in a broad road ofsentiment that (like the Western ones which Longfellow has described)narrowed and narrowed until it disappeared, a mere thread, up a tree. Ifhe looked long, after one of these flights, at her sweet English face tosee what impression he had made, he was often forced to see that it wasnot the one he had meant to make at all.

  "Is anything amiss?" she asked once, in her cool, level tone, fixingupon him her sincerely honest eyes. "Are there blacks on my nose?"Although she had distinctly refused him at Kalsing, as became a girldestitute of vanity and coquetry and attached to some one else, she hadnot found him the less fluent, omnipresent, persuasive, at Niagara. Itwas diverting to see them seated
side by side on Goat Island, he wavinghis hand toward the blue sky, apostrophizing the water, the foliage, theclouds, and what not, in prose and verse, quite content if he but got aquiet glance and assenting word now and then, she listening demurely ina state of protestant satisfaction, her fair hair very dazzling in thesunshine, an unvarying apple-blossom tint in her calm face, her fingerstatting industriously not to waste the time outright. It was veryagreeable in a way, she told herself, but something must really be doneto get rid of the man. And so, one morning when they chanced to bealone, and he was being unusually ethereal and beautiful in his remarks,telling her that, as Byron had said, she would be "the morning star ofmemory" for him, she broke in squarely, "That is all very nice; verypretty, I am sure. But I do hope you quite understand that I have notthe least idea of marrying you. There is no use in going on like this,you know, and you would have a right to reproach me if I kept silent andled you to think that I was being won over by your fine speeches. Yousee, you don't really want a star at all. You want a wife; thoughmilitary men, as a rule, are better off single. I do thank you heartilyfor liking me for myself, and all that, and I shall always remember thekind things you have done, and our acquaintance, but you must put mequite out of your head as a wife. I should not suit you at all. Youwould have to leave the American service, and I should hate feeling Ihad tied you down, and I couldn't contribute a penny toward thehousehold expenses, and, altogether, we are much better apart. It wouldnot answer at all. So, thank you again for the honor you have conferredupon me, and be--be rather more--like other people, won't you, for thefuture? Auntie fancies that I am encouraging you, and is getting veryvexed about it. Perhaps you had better go away? Yes, that would be best,I think."

  Thus solicited, Captain Kendall went away, taking a mournfully-eloquentfarewell of Ethel, which she thought final; but in this she wasmistaken.

  Our party did not linger long after this. Sir Robert met a titledacquaintance, who inflamed his mind so much about Manitoba that hedecided to go to Canada at once, taking Miss Noel, Ethel, and Mr.Heathcote; Mrs. Sykes had taken up on her first arrival with some NewYork people, who asked her to visit them in the central part of theState,--which disposed of her; Mabel was secretly longing to get back toher "American child," as Mrs. Sykes called little Jared Ponsonby; andthey separated, with the understanding that they should meet againbefore the English guests left the country, and with a warm liking foreach other, the Sykes not being represented in the pleasant covenants offriendship formed.

  "I am glad that we have not to bid Ketchum good-by here," said SirRobert. "Such a hearty, genial fellow! And how kind he has been to us!His hospitality is the true one; not merely so much food and drink andmoneyed outlay for some social or selfish end, but the entertainment offriends because they _are_ friends, with every possible care for theirpleasure and comfort, and the most unselfish willingness to do anythingthat can contribute to either. I am afraid he would not find many suchhosts as himself with us. We entertain more than the Americans, but I donot think we have as much of the real spirit of hospitality as a nation.The relation between host and guest is less personal, there is littlesense of obligation, or rather sacredness, on either side, and theconvenience, interest, or amusement of the Amphitryon is more apt to beconsidered, as a general thing, than the pleasure of the guest: at leastthis has been growing more and more the case in the last twenty years,as our society has broken away from old traditions and levelled all itsbarriers, to the detriment of our social graces, not to speak of ourmorals and manners. As for that charmingly gentle, sweet woman Mrs.Ketchum, it is my opinion that we are not likely to improve on that typeof Englishwoman. A modest, simple, religious creature, a thoroughgentlewoman, and a devoted wife and mother. My cousin Guy Rathbone isengaged to a specimen of a new variety,--one of the 'emancipated,'forsooth; a woman who has a betting-book instead of a Bible and playscards all day Sunday. He tells me that she is wonderfully clever, andthat it is all he can do to keep her from running about the kingdomdelivering lectures on Agnosticism; as if one wanted one's wife to be atrapesing, atheistical Punch-and-Judy! And the fellow seemed actuallypleased and flattered. He told me that she had 'an astonishing grasp ofsuch subjects' and was 'attracting a great deal of attention.' And Itold him that if I had a wife who attracted attention in such ways Iwould lock her up until she came to her senses and the public hadforgotten her want of modesty and discretion. This ought to be calledthe Age of Fireworks. The craze for notoriety is penetrating our veryalmshouses, and every toothless old mumbler of ninety wants to gethimself palmed off as a centenarian in the papers and have a lot ofstuff printed about him."

  "I see what you mean, Robert," said Miss Noel, "and it certainly cannotbe wholesome for women to thirst for excitement, and one would think alady would shrink from being conspicuous in any way; but things are verymuch changed, as you say. And I agree with you in your estimate of theKetchums. She is a sweet young thing, and I heartily like him. Onlythink! his last act was to send a great basket of fine fruits up to myroom, and quite an armful of railway-novels for the journey. Suchbeautiful thought for our comfort as they have shown!"

  "He is rather a good sort in some ways, but a very ignorant man. Ishowed him some of my specimens the other day, and he thought themgranitic, when they were really Silurian mica schist of some kind," putin Mrs. Sykes, who never could bear unqualified praise. "Still, on thewhole, the Americans are less ignorant than might have been expected."

  "_I_ consider Mr. Ketchum a most kind, gentlemanly, sociable, cleverman," said Miss Noel, with an emphatic nod of her head to eachadjective, "geology or no geology. And I must say that it is veryungrateful of you to speak of him so sneeringly always."

  Sir Robert only waited to write the usual batch of letters, including alast appeal to the editor of the "Columbia Eagle" to know whether heintended to apologize for and publicly retract a certain article, andasking "whether it was possible that any considerable or respectableportion of the Americans could be so arbitrary, illiberal, and exclusiveas to wish to exclude the English from America." This done, he left forCanada with his relatives. With his stay there we have nothing to do. Itconsumed six weeks of exhaustive travel and study of Canadian conditionsand resources, resulting ultimately in the conclusion that Manitoba wasnot the place he was looking for. The ladies, who had been left inMontreal, were then taken for a short tour through the country, whichthey all enjoyed, after which Sir Robert asked Miss Noel whether shewould be willing to take Ethel back to Niagara and wait there afortnight, or perhaps a little longer, while he and Mr. Heathcote cameback by way of New England and from there went down into Maryland andVirginia, where, according to "a member of the Canadian Parliament,"lands were to be had for a song.

  "A fortnight? I could spend a twelve-month there," exclaimed she. "Hadit not been that I was ashamed to insist upon being let off thisjourney, I should have stopped there as it was."

  To Niagara the aunt and niece and Parsons went, as agreed, and therethey found Mr. Bates wandering languidly about the place in chronicdiscontent with everything for not being something else. He had burned agood deal of incense on Ethel's shrine when she was at Kalsing, and nowhailed their advent with some approach to enthusiasm, and attachedhimself to their suite, _vice_ Captain Kendall, retired. He liked to beseen with them, thought the views from the Canadian side were "deucedlyfine," was cruelly affected by the advertisements in the neighborhood,which he denounced as "dreadfully American," trickled out much feeblecriticism of and acid comment on his surroundings, gave utterance tofervent wishes that he was "abrard," and in his own unpleasant way gaveEthel to understand that she might make a fellow-countryman happy bybecoming Mrs. Samuel Bates if she liked to avail herself of a goldenopportunity. "I would live in England, you know. I am really far more athome there than here," said the expatriated suitor. "I have been takenfor an Englishman as often as three times in one week, do you know.Curious, isn't it? I ought to be down in Kent now, visiting LadySimpson, a great friend of mine, who has asked me there aga
in and again.You would like her if you knew her. She is quite the great lady downthere."

  "A foolish little man, and evidently a great snob, or else rather daftupon some points," Ethel reported to her aunt. "And such a dull,discontented creature, with all his money!" Ethel had some trials of herown just then, and it was no great felicity to listen to Mr. Bates'sendless complaints, nor could she spare much sympathy for the sufferingsof the exile of Tecumseh, with his rose-leaf sensibilities, inanities,absurdities.

  Meanwhile, the young gentleman who was indirectly responsible for many asad thought of two charming girls that we know of--and who shall say howmany more?--was enjoying as much happiness as ever fell to any man inthe capacity of ardent sportsman. He had joined the duke and his partyat St. Louis, and from there they had gone "well away from anywhere," ashe said in describing his adventures to Mr. Heathcote. He had at lastreached the ideal spot of all his wildest imaginations and mostcherished hopes,--"the wild part,"--really the great prairies, about twohundred miles west of the Mississippi and east of the Rockies. The dreamof his life was being fulfilled. He related, in a style not conspicuousfor literary merit, but very well suited to the simple annals of therich, how, having first procured guides, tents, ambulances,camp-equipage, they had pushed on briskly to a military fort, where,having made friends with "a pleasant, gentlemanly set of fellows," thecommanding officer, "a friendly old buffer," had courteously given theman escort to protect them from "those dirty, treacherous brutes, theIndians." Not a joy was wanting in this crowning bliss. The guide was "awonderful chap named Big-Foot Williams, so called by the Indians, goodall around from knocking over a rabbit to tackling a grizzly," with anamazing knowledge of woodcraft, "a nose like a bloodhound, an eye ascool as a toad's." No special mention was made of his ear; but the firsttime he got off his horse and applied it to the earth, listening forthe tramp of distant hoofs in a hushed silence, one bosom could hardlyhold all the rapture that filled Mr. Ramsay's figurative cup up to thebrim. And the tales he told of savageness long drawn out were as dew tothe parched herb, greedily absorbed at every pore. A portrait of "BlackEagle," a noted chief, was given when they got among the Indians,--"agreat hulking slugger of a savage, awfully interesting, long, reachingstep, magnificent muscles, snake eye, could thrash us all in turn if heliked. The best of the lot."

  Even the noble red man was not insensible to the charms of thisgraceful, handsome young athlete who smiled at them perpetually andsaid, "_Amigo! amigo_!" at short intervals,--a phrase suggested by theredoubtable Williams and varied occasionally by a prefix of his own,"_Muchee amigo_!" The way in which he tested the elasticity of theirbows, inspected their guns, the game they had killed, the other naturalobjects about them, aroused a certain sympathy, perhaps. At any rate,they were soon teaching him their mode of using the most picturesquelymurderous of all weapons, and Black Eagle offered, through theinterpreter, to give him a mustang and a fine wolf-skin. The pony wasdeclined, the skin accepted, a _quid pro quo_ being bestowed on thechief in the shape of one of Mr. Ramsay's breech-loaders, a gift thatmade the snake eyes glitter. But what earthly return can be made forsome friendly offices? Could a thousand guns be considered as anadequate payment for the delirious thrill that Mr. Ramsay felt when heshot an arrow straight through the neck of a big buffalo, and, wheeling,galloped madly away, like the hero of one of his favorite stories? Wasnot the duke, who "knew a thing or two about shooting" and had huntedthe noble bison in Lithuania, almost as much delighted as though he haddone it himself? Is it any wonder that these intoxicating pleasures wereall-sufficient for the time to Mr. Ramsay? Perhaps Thekla would havebeen forgotten by her Max, and Romeo would never have sighed and diedfor love of Juliet, if those interesting lovers had ceased from wooingand gone a-hunting of the buffalo instead. Not the most deadly and cruelpangs of the most unfortunate attachment could have taken away all thezest from such an occupation, provided they had had what the Mexicanjournals call the "_corazon de los sportsmans_." Youth, strength,courage, skill, exercised in a vagabondage that has all the nomadiccharm without any of its drawbacks, are apt to sponge the old figuresoff the slate of life, leaving a teary smear, perhaps, to show wherethey have been, and room for fresh problems. At night over the camp-fireMr. Ramsay gave a few pensive thoughts to the girl who regularly put twohandkerchiefs under her pillow to receive the tears that welled outcopiously when she was at last alone and unobserved after a day ofvirtuous hypocrisy. Poor child! The pain was very real, and the tearswere bitter and salty enough, though they were to be dried in due time.If he had known of them, perhaps he might have kept awake a littlelonger; but when he wasn't sleepy he was hungry, and when he wasn'thungry he was tired, and when he wasn't tired he was too activelyemployed to think of anything but the business in hand. Happily, atfive-and-twenty it is perfectly possible to postpone being miserableuntil a more convenient season; and, though he would have denied itemphatically afterward, he certainly thought only occasionally of Bijouat this period, and of Ethel not at all.

  Miss Noel heard very regularly from Mrs. Sykes all this while; and thatenergetic traveller had not been idle. She had made her new friends"take her about tremendously," she said. She had seen all the largetowns in that part of the country, and thought them "very ugly andmonotonously commonplace, but prosperous-looking,--like theinhabitants." The scenery she had found "far too uninteresting to repaythe bother of sketching it." But she had made a few pictures of "theviews most cracked up in the White Mountains,"--where she had been,--"asort of second-hand Switzerland of a place; really nothing after theHimalayas, but made a great fuss over by the Americans." She describedwith withering scorn a drive she took there.

  "We came suddenly one day upon a party in a kind of Cheap-Jack van," shewrote,--"gayly-dressed people, tricked off in smart finery, and larkinglike a lot of Ramsgate tradesmen on the public road. One of the impudentcreatures made a trumpet of his great ugly fist and spelt out the nameof the hotel at which they were stopping, and then put his hand to hisear, as if to listen for the response. Expecting _me_ to tell _them_anything about myself! But I flatter myself that I was a match for them.I just got out my umbrella and shot it up in their very faces as wepassed, in a way not to be mistaken. And--would you believe it?--therude wretches called out, 'The shower is over now! and 'What's the priceof starch?' and roared with laughing." A highly-colored description of "avisit to a great Dissenting stronghold, Marbury Park," followed: "I wasimmensely curious to see one of these characteristic nationalexhibitions of hysteria, ignorance, superstition, and immorality, calleda 'camp-meeting.' to which the Americans of all classes flock annuallyby the thousands, so I quite insisted upon being taken to one, though myfriends would have got out of it if they could. I fancy they were veryashamed of it; and they had need to be. I will not attempt to describeit in detail here,--you will hear what I have said of it in mydiary,--but a more glaringly vulgar, intensely American performance youcan't fancy. I have made a number of sketches of the grounds, the tentsand tent-life, with the people bathing and dressing and all that in themost exposed manner; of the pavilion, where the roaring and ranting isdone; and of the great revivalist who was holding forth when I gotthere, and who had got such a red face and seemed so excited that it ismy belief he was _regularly screwed_, though my friends denied it, ofcourse. With such a preacher, you can 'realize,' as they say, what thepeople were like. A regular Derby-day crowd having a religioussaturnalia,--that is what it is. It would not be allowed at home, I amsure. Disgusting! One can't wonder at the state of society in Americawhen one sees what their religion is. An unpleasant incident occurred tome while sketching in the pavilion, that shows what I have often pointedout to you,--the radicalism and odious impertinence of this people. Iwas just putting the finishing-touches to my picture of the Rev. (?)'Galusha Wickers' (the revivalist: such names as these Americans have!),when I heard a voice behind me saying, 'Lor! Why, that's splendid!perfectly splendid! Well, I declare, you've got him to a t. Lemmy see.'And, if you please, a hand was thrust over my shoulder and t
he sketchseized, without so much as a 'By your leave.' Can you fancy a moreunwarrantable, insufferable liberty? But they are all alike over here. Iturned about, and saw a woman who was examining the reverend revivalistwith much satisfaction. 'Well, you _have_ got him, to be sure,' shesaid, returning my angry glance with one of admiration, and quiteunabashed. 'What'll you take for it? I've sat under him for five years;and for taking texteses from one end of the Bible to the other, andleading in prayer, and filling the mourners' bench in five minutes, Iwill say he hasn't got his equal in the universe. He's got a toweringintellect, I tell you. I'll give you fifty cents for this, if you'llcolor it up nice for me and throw in a frame.' Of course I took thepicture away from the brazen creature and told her what I thought of herconduct. 'Well, you air techy,' she said, and walked off leisurely."Before closing her letter, Mrs. Sykes remarked of her hostess, "Quitegood for nothing physically, and absurdly romantic. She has been abroada good deal, and bores me dreadfully with her European reminiscences.She is always talking in a foolish, rapturous sort of way about 'dearMelrose,' or 'noble Tintern Abbey,' or 'enchanting Warwick Castle;' andshe has read simply libraries of books about England, and puts methrough a sort of examination about dozens of places and events, asthough I could carry all England about in my head. I really know less ofit than of most other countries: there is nothing to be got by runningabout it. If one knew every foot of it, everybody would think it amatter of course; but to be able to talk of Siam and the Fiji Islands,Cambodia and Alaska, and the like, is really an advantage in society.One gets the name of being a great traveller, and all that, and is askedabout tremendously and taken up to a wonderful extent. I know a man thatdidn't wish to go to the trouble and expense of rambling all over theworld, and wanted the reputation of having done it, so he went intolodgings at intervals near the British Museum and got all the books thatwere to be had about a particular country, and, having read them, wouldcome back to the West End and give out that he had been there. Itanswered beautifully for a while, and he was by way of being asked tobecome a Fellow of the Royal Geographical, and was thought quite anauthority and wonderfully clever; but somehow he got found out, whichmust have been a nuisance and spoiled everything. I can see that thesepeople consider it quite an honor to have me visit them, all because ofmy having been around the world, I dare say. And of course I have letthem see that I know who is who and what is what. They are imploring meto stay on; but I told them yesterday that it wouldn't suit my book atall to stay over two weeks longer, when I had seen all there was to see.That young Ramsay seems to be enjoying himself out there among thosenasty savages; and, as hunting is about the only thing he is fit for, hehad best stay out there altogether."

  The unwritten history of Mrs. Sykes's visit to Marbury Park would havebeen more interesting than the account she gave. She took with her acamp-chair, which she placed in any and every spot that suited her orcommanded the pictorial situations which she wished to make her ownpermanently. To the horror and surprise of her friends, she plumped itdown immediately in front of Mr. Wickers (after marching past an immensecongregation), and, wholly unembarrassed by her conspicuous position,settled herself comfortably, took out her block and pencil, andproceeded to jot down that worthy's features line upon line, as thoughhe had been a newly-imported animal at the "Zoo" on exhibition, payingno attention to the precept upon precept he was trying to impress uponhis audience.

  She walked all over the place repeatedly, went poking and prying intosuch tents as she chanced to find empty, nor considered this anessential requisite to the conferring of this honor. When less sociablyinclined, she established herself outside, close at hand, and in thisway made those valuable observations and spirited drawings whichsubsequently enriched her diary and delighted a discerning Britishpublic. But this is anticipating. When she tired of New York, she wroteto Sir Robert that she wished to give as much time as possible to theMormons, and would leave at once for Salt Lake City, where she wouldbusy herself in laying bare the domestic system as it really existed,and hold herself in readiness to join the party again when they shouldarrive there _en route_ to the Yosemite.

  Sir Robert, being an heroic creature, felt that he could bear thistemporary separation with fortitude, and, being about to start forBoston when he got the news, forthwith threw himself upon the NewEngland States in a frenzied search for all the information to be hadabout them,--their exact geographical position, by whom discovered, whensettled, climate, productions, population, principal towns and rivers.He studied three maps of the region as he rattled along in thesouth-bound train, and devoted the rest of the time to getting anoutline of its history: so that his nephew found him but an indifferentcompanion.

  "I suppose there are authorized maps and charts, geographical,hydrographical, and topographical, issued by the government, and to beseen at the libraries. I must get a look at them at once. These areamateur productions, the work of irresponsible men, contradicting eachother in important particulars as to the relative positions of places,and inaccurate in many respects, as I find by comparison," he said,emerging from a prolonged study of his authorities. "You don't seem totake much interest in all this. You should be at the pains to informyourself upon every possible point in connection with this country, orany other in which you may find yourself; else why travel at all?"

  Mr. Heathcote, not having his uncle's thirst for information, wasreading a French novel at the time, and did not attempt to defend hisposition, knowing it probably to be indefensible.

  Before getting to Boston the air turned very chill, and a fine,penetrating rain set in that for a while disturbed the student ofAmerican history with visions of rheumatism. "God bless my soul! I shallbe laid by the heels here for weeks. Damp is the one thing that I can'tstand up against. And I have not left my coat out!" he exclaimed,tugging anxiously at his side-whiskers and annoyed to find how dependenthe had grown on his valet. "What shall I do? Ah! I have an idea. Damp.What resists it and is practically water-proof? _Newspapers_!" With thishe stood up, seized the "Times" supplement, made a hole in the middle ofthe central fold, and put it over his head. "Now I have improvised aSouth-American _serape_" he observed, in a tone that betrayed thepleasure it gave him to exercise his ingenuity. He then took two othersheets and successively wrapped them around his legs, after the fashionin vogue among gardeners intent upon protecting valuable plants from therigors of winter. This done, he smoothed down the _serape_, which showeda volatile tendency to blow up a good deal, and, with a brief comment tothe effect that "oilskin or india-rubber could not be better," and nostaring about him to observe the effect of his action on the passengers,replaced his hat, sat down, picked up his book again, readjusted hiseye-glasses, and went on with the episode he had been reading aloud tohis nephew, who, mildly bored by King Philip's war, was mildly amused bythe spectacle the baronet presented, and surprised to see that theirfellow-travellers thought it an excellent joke. A loud "Haw! haw!" andmany convulsive titters testified their appreciation of the absurdcontrast between Sir Robert's highly-respectable head, his grave,absorbed air, and the remarkable way in which he was finished off belowthe ears; but he read on and on, in his round, agreeable voice,unconscious of the effect he was producing, until the train came to thefinal stop, when Mr. Porter and a very dignified, rigid style of friendcame into the car to look for him.

  "My dear Porter, I am delighted to see you, and I shall be with you inone moment. I shall then have ceased to be a grub and have become a mostbeautiful butterfly, ready to fly away home with you as soon as ever youlike," he called out in greeting, and in a twinkling had torn off hiswrappers, and stood there a revealed acquaintance, carefully collectinghis "traps," and beaming cheerfully even upon the friend, who had notcome to a pantomime and showed that he disapproved of harlequins inprivate life.

  Mr. Porter, however, was all cordiality, and very speedily transferredhis guests to his own house in the vicinity of Boston.

  The season was not the one for gaining a fair idea of the society of thecity and neighborho
od; but if all the people who were away at thesea-side and the mountains were half as charming as those left behindand invited by Mr. Porter, to meet his friends, it is certain that SirRobert lost a great deal. On the other hand, it is equally certain thatif they had been at home Sir Robert would most likely be there now, andthis chronicle of his travels would end here. As it was, he foundsomething novel and agreeable at every step, a fresh interest every hourof his stay. He began at the beginning, and promptly found out what kindof soil the city was built on, went on to consider such questions asdrainage, elevation, water-supply, wharves, quays, bridges, and workedup to libraries, museums, public and private collections of pictures,and what not. He ordered three pictures of Boston artists,--two autumnalscenes, and an interior, a negro cabin, with an hilarious sable groupvariously employed, called "Christmas in the Quarters." Then thequestions of fisheries, maritime traffic, coast and harbor defences,light-houses, the ship-building interests, life-saving associations, andrailway systems, pressed for investigation, to say nothing of the millsand manufactories, wages of operatives, trades-unions, trade problems,and all the pros and cons of free trade _versus_ protective tariff. Overthese he pondered and pored until all hours every night; and the diaryhad now to be girt about with two stout rubber bands to keep it fromscattering instructive leaflets about promiscuously and prematurely. Andby day there were sites literary, historical, or generally interestingto be visited, engagements with many friends to keep, endlessoccupations apparently.

  There was so much to see and do that the place was delightful to him,and he certainly made himself vastly agreeable in return to such of itsinhabitants as came in his way.

  "I have added to my circle some very valuable acquaintances, whom Ishall hope to retain as friends," he wrote to England, "notably amedical man who confirms my germ-propagation theory of the 'vomito,'which is now raging in the Southern part of the States (I had it, youremember, on the west coast of Africa, and studied it in theBarbadoes),--an exceptionally clever man, and, like all such men,inclined to be eccentric. I think I was never more surprised than tocome upon him the other day in a side-street, where he was positivelyhaving his boots polished _in public_ by a ragged gamin who offered to'shine' me for a 'dime.' He behaved sensibly about it,--betrayed noembarrassment, though he must have felt excessively annoyed, made noapologies, and only remarked that he had been out in the country, anddid not wish to be taken for a miller in the town.

  "I was led to believe before coming here that I should not be able totell that Boston was not an English town. It did not so impress me on asurface-view, but it was not long before I recognized that the warp andwoof of the social fabric is that of our looms, though the pattern is alittle different,--a good sort of stuff, I think, warranted _to wash_and wear. The variation, such as it is, tried by what I call mydifferential nationometer, gives to the place its own peculiar,delightful quality." The rigid gentleman, who was a great deal at thePorters', was rather inclined to insist upon the great purity and beautyof his English, to which he repeatedly invited attention, and, as Mr.Ramsay would have said, "went in for" certain philological refinementswhich Sir Robert had never heard before, and thoroughly disliked. But asthere are more Scotchmen in London than in Edinburgh, and better orangescan be bought for less money in New York than in New Orleans, so it maybe that if you want to find really superior English you must leaveEngland altogether,--abandon it to its defective but firmly-rooted_patois_, and seek in more classic shades for the well--spring of Saxonundefiled. But Sir Robert was not inclined to do this. There were limitsto his liberality and spirit of investigation. When the rigid gentlemaninstanced certain words to which he gave a pronunciation that made thembear small resemblance to the same words as spoken by any class ofpeople laboring under the disadvantage of having been born and bred inEngland, Sir Robert got impatient, and testily dismissed the subjectwith, "Oh, come, now! I can stand a good deal, but I can't stand beingtold that we don't know how to speak English in England." Something,however, must be pardoned to a foreigner. If Sir Robert would notconsent to set Emerson a little higher than the angels, as some otherBostonians could have wished, and had never so much as heard of Thoreauand other American celebrities not wholly insignificant, he had animmense admiration for Longfellow, and could spout "Hiawatha" or"Evangeline" with the best, associated Hawthorne with something besideshis own hedges in the month of May, and was eager to be taken out toBeverly Farms, that he might "do himself the honor to call upon" thewisest, wittiest, least-dreaded, and best-loved of Autocrats. When theday fixed for his departure came, he was still revelling in what theHistorical Society of Massachusetts had to show him, and actuallystayed over a day that he might see the finest collection of cacti inthe country, and at last tore himself away with much difficulty andlively regrets, carrying with him a collection of Indian curiositiesgiven him by Mr. Porter, whom he considered to have behaved "mosthandsomely" in making him such a present. "I can't rob you outright, mydear fellow. I feel a cut-purse, almost, when I think of taking allthese valuable and deeply-interesting objects illustrative of the lifeand civilization of the aborigines," he said. "Give me duplicates, ifyou will be so generous, but nothing unique, I insist." He finallyaccepted one gem in the collection,--a towering structure of feathersthat formed "a most delightful head-dress, quite irresistiblyfascinating," tried it on before a mirror that gave back faithfully thecomical reflection, and incidentally delivered a lecture on thehead-ornaments of many savage and civilized nations of every age, thoughnot at all in the style of the famous Mr. Barlow.

  Mr. Heathcote at least was not sorry to find that they were, as he said."booked for Baltimore." The image of the beautiful Miss Bascombe had notbeen effaced. Perhaps he had photographed it by some private process onhis heart with the lover's camera, which takes rather idealized but verycharming pictures, some of which never fade. At all events, there itwas, very distinct and very lovely, and always hung on the line in hismental picture-gallery. It was positively with trepidation that hepresented himself before her very soon after his arrival; and anundeniable blush "mantled" his cheek--if a blush can be said with anypropriety to mantle the male cheek--- when he marched into thedrawing-room, where she was doing a dainty bit of embroidery, and withmuch simplicity and directness said, "You said I might come, you know,and I have come; and I begged of Ethel to come too, but she could notleave my aunt," before he had so much as shaken hands. Of course nowell-regulated and well-bred young woman--and Miss Bascombe wasboth--ever permits herself to remember any man until she is engaged tohim; but she need not forget one that has impressed her agreeably. MissBascombe had not forgotten the handsome Englishman she had met at JennyDe Witt's, nor the little lecture she had given him on the duties ofbrothers to sisters, and it did not strike her that his inauguraladdress was at all eccentric or mysterious. He had been told what heought to do; he had tried to do it, as was quite right and proper. Hedeserved some reward. And he got it,--though only as an encouragement toabstract virtue, of course. The young lady was pleased to be friendly,gracious, charming. Her mother came in presently, was equally friendlyand gracious, and almost as charming. Her father came home to dinner,and was friendly too, and hearty, and very hospitable. Her brothers werefriendliest of all. He knew quite well that he had no claim on them,that he had not saved the life of any member of the family or laid themunder any sort of obligation, individually or collectively, and noreception could have seemed more special and dangerously cordial, yet noanxieties oppressed, no fears distracted him. The weight of excessiveeligibility suddenly slipped off him, like the albatross from the neckof the Ancient Mariner, leaving him a thankful and a happy man, and ina week he had established himself firmly at the Bascombes', declined toaccompany his uncle to Virginia, and definitely settled in his own mindthat he would take the step matrimonial,--the step from the sublimeto--well, not always the ridiculous. With this resolution he naturallythought that the greatest obstacle to success had been removed; but hewas soon disillusionized. He had already come to see that Ame
rican girlswere very much in the habit of being gracious to everybody, and sayingpretty and pleasant things, with no thought of an hereafter; also thatthey did not live with St. George's, Hanover Square, or its Americanequivalent, Trinity Church, New York, stamped on the mental retina. MissBascombe was "very nice" to him, he told himself, but she was quite asnice to a dozen other men. She was uniformly kind, courteous, agreeable,to every one who came to the house. Her cordiality to him meant nothingwhatever. Yes, he was quite free,--free as air; he saw that plainly, andperversely longed to assume the fetters he had so long and so skilfullyavoided. What was the use of having serious intentions when not theslightest notice was taken of the most compromising behavior? It wastrue that he was perfectly at liberty to see more of Edith than anEnglishman ever does of any woman not related to him, and to say and doa thousand things any one of which at home would have necessitated aproposal or instant flight. But no importance whatever seemed to beattached to them here, and he was utterly at a loss how to make hisseriousness felt. Yet it was quite clear that if there was to be anywooing done, he would have to do it,--go every step of the way himself,with no assistance from Miss Bascombe. "How on earth am I to show herthat I care for her?" he thought. "Other men send her dozens ofbouquets, and box after box of expensive sweets, and loads of books, andmusic without end, and they come to see her continually, and take herabout everywhere, and are entirely devoted to her. I wonder whatfellows over here do when they are serious? How do they make themselvesunderstood when they go on in this way habitually? It is a mostextraordinary state of affairs! And neither party seems to feel in theleast compromised by it. There is that fellow Clinch, who fairly livesat the Bascombes', and when I asked her if she was engaged to him shesaid, 'Engaged to George Clinch? What an idea! _No_. What put that inyour head? He is a nice fellow, and I like him immensely, but there'snothing of that sort between us. What made you think there was? And whenI explained, she said, 'Oh, _that's_ nothing! He is just as nice to lotsof other girls.' And when I suggested to him that he was attached toher, he said, 'Edith Bascombe? Oh, no! She is a great friend of mine,and a charming girl, but I have never thought of that, nor has she. I gothere a good deal, but I have never paid her any marked attention.' Nomarked attention, indeed! Nothing seems to mean anything here: it isworse than being in England, where everything means something. No, itisn't, either. I vow that when I am at the Clintons' in Surrey Iscarcely dare offer the girls so much as a muffin, and if I ask thecarroty one, Beatrice, the simplest question, she blushes and stammersas if I were proposing out of hand. But what am I to do? I can't singand take to serenading Edith on moonlit nights with a guitar and a blueribbon around my neck. I can't push her into the river that I may pullher out again. I dare say there is nothing for it but to adopt theAmerican method,--enter with about fifty others for a sort ofsentimental steeple-chase, elbow or knock every other fellow out of theway in the running, work awfully hard to please the girl, and get in byhalf a length, if one wins at all. There is no feeling sure of her untilone is coming back from the altar, evidently."

  Some of his conversations with Edith were certainly anything butencouraging. At other times he felt morally sure that she shared thatderangement of the bivalvular organ technically defined as "a muscularviscus which is the primary instrument of the blood's motion," whoseworst pains are said to be worth more than the greatest pleasures. Hewas very much in earnest, and entirely straightforward, There were nobalancing indecisions now, but the most downright affirmation ofpreference. His little speeches were not veiled in rosy clouds ofmetaphor and poetry and distant allusions, like Captain Kendall's, nordid they flow out in an unfailing stream of romantic eloquence, likethat gifted warrior's. They were so honest and so clumsy, indeed, thatEdith could not help laughing at them merrily sometimes, to his greatdiscomfiture, consisting as they did chiefly of such statements as, "Youknow that I am most awfully fond of you. I was tremendously hard hitfrom the first. If you don't believe me, you can ask Ramsay. I told himall about it. You aren't in the least like any other girl that I haveever known, except Mrs. De Witt a little. I suppose you know that Iwould have married her at the dropping of a hat if I could have done so.But that is all over now. I care an awful lot for you now, and shall bequite frightfully cut up if you won't have anything to say to me,--Ishall, really. I have got quite wrapped up in you, upon my word. And Ishall be intensely glad and proud if you will consent to be my wife."

  When Edith failed to take such speeches as these seriously, poor Mr.Heathcote was quite beside himself, and, in reply to her banteringaccusations as to his being "a great flirt" and not "really meaning oneword that he said," opposed either burly negation or a deeply-vexedsilence. They looked at so many things differently that they found apiquant interest in discussing every subject that came up.

  "There go May Dunbar and Fred Beach," she said to him one Sunday as theywere coming home from church. "Isn't he handsome? They have been engaged_three years_. Did you ever hear of such constancy?"

  "Do you call that constancy? Why, if a fellow can't wait three years fora lovely girl like that, he must be a poor stick. Why, my uncleMontgomery was engaged to his wife seventeen years, while he went out toIndia and shook the pagoda-tree, after which he came back, paid all hisfather's debts, and they married and went into the house they had pickedout before he sailed," said Mr. Heathcote.

  "Good gracious! what a time! I hope the poor things were happy at last.Were they?" asked Edith.

  "H-m--pretty well. He is a rather fiery, tyrannical old party. Shedoesn't get her own way to hurt," he replied.

  "I have heard that Englishwomen give way to the men in everything andare always, voluntarily or involuntarily, sacrificed to them. It must beso bad for both," said Edith sweetly.

  "Oh, you go in for woman's rights and that sort of thing, I suppose," hesaid, in a tone of annoyance.

  "Indeed I don't do anything of the kind," replied she, with warmth. "IfI did, I should be aping the men when I wasn't sneering at them. But Irespect your sex most when they most deserve to be respected, and Idon't see anything to admire in a selfish, tyrannical man that is alwaysimposing his will, opinions, and wishes upon the ladies of his householdand expects to be the first consideration from the cradle to the gravebecause he happens to be a man."

  "But he is the head of his house. He ought to get his own way, ifanybody does, and, if he is not a coward, he will, too," said Mr.Heathcote rather hotly. "Would you have a man a molly-coddle, tied tohis wife's apron-string, and not daring to call his soul his own?"

  "Not at all," replied Edith. "It is the cowards that are the tyrants.'The bravest are the tenderest, the loving are the daring,' as ourAmerican poet says. And women have souls of their own, except in theEast. Why shouldn't _they_ be the first consideration and do as theyplease, pray? They are the weaker, the more delicate and daintily bred.If there is any pampering and spoiling to be done, they should be theobjects of it. And as to rights, there is no divine right of way givento man, that I know of. I don't believe in that sort of thing at all. Ofcourse no reasonable woman wants or expects everybody to kootoo beforeher and everything to give way to her."

  "And no gentleman fails to show a proper respect for his wife's wishesand comfort, not to mention her happiness," said Mr. Heathcote. "But ofcourse that sort of thing is only to be found in America. Englishmen areall selfish, and tyrants, and domestic monsters, I know."

  "I didn't say anything of the kind," replied Edith quickly, her cheekspink with excitement. "I don't know anything about Englishmen or thedomestic system of England, and I never expect to. But, if what I haveheard is true, it is a system that tends to make men mortally selfish;and selfish people, whether they are men or women, and whether they knowit or not, are _all_ monsters. But I apologize for my remarks, and, as Iam not interested in the subject _in the least_, we will talk ofsomething else, if you please."

  This very feminine conclusion, delivered loftily and with suddenreserve, left Mr. Heathcote in anything but an agreeable frame of min
d,and for an hour or two made him doubt the wisdom of internationalmarriages; but this mood passed away, and he remained a fixture at the_maison_ Bascombe, where the very postman came to know him andgenerously sympathized with the malady from which he was suffering. Norwas this the only house in which he was made very welcome. Baltimore isone of many American cities that suffer from the vague but painfulaccusation of being "provincial;" but, admitting this dreadful charge,it has social, gastronomic, and other charms of its own that ought tocompensate for the absence of that doubtful good, cosmopolitanism. Mr.Heathcote certainly found no fault with it, and did not miss thepopulation, pauperism, or other institutions of Paris, London, orVienna. On the contrary, he took very kindly to the pretty place, andheartily liked the people. There was nothing oppressive or ostentatiousin the attentions he received, but just the cordiality, grace, and charmof an old-established society of most refined traditions, perfect_savoir-vivre_, and chronic hospitality.

  "You are making a Baltimorean of me, you are so awfully kind to me," hewould say, pronouncing the _a_ in Bal as he would have done in sal; butthe truth was that he had become primarily a Bascomite and only veryincidentally a Baltimorean. The city counts hundreds of such convertsevery year. He was so happy and entirely content that he would havequite forgotten what it was to be bored just at this period but forcertain individuals,--a boastful, disagreeable Irishman, who fastenedupon him apparently for no other reason than that he might abuse Englandat great length and talk of his own valor, accomplishments, and"paddygree" (as he very properly called the record that established hisconnection with Brian Boroo and Irish kings generally), and a lady whoseemed to take the most astounding, unquenchable interest in the Englishnobility, as more than one lady had seemed to him to do, to his greatannoyance.

  "I don't know a bit about them, I assure you," he said to her; "but Ihave the 'Peerage.' If you would like to see that, I will send it youwith pleasure."

  This only diverted her conversation into a different but equallydistasteful channel,--the great distinction and antiquity of her ownfamily. It really seemed as though she had a dread of Mr. Heathcote'sleaving the country with some wrong impression on this important subjectand was determined that he should be put in possession of all theinformation she had or imagined herself to have about it. She talked tohim about it so much that the poor man was at incredible pains to keepout of her way.

  "I don't care a brass copper about her," he complained to Edith; "andif the family has been producing women like her as long as she says, andis going on at it, all I can say is that it is a pity they have lastedthis long, and the sooner they die out the better. What do I care abouther family, pray? I never heard as much about family in all my life, Igive you my word, as I have done since I came to America. The storiestold me are something wonderful,--all about the two brothers that leftEngland, and all that, you know. They seem all to have come away inpairs, like the animals in the ark. I said to one fellow that wasbeginning with those two brothers, '_Couldn't you make it three_, don'tyou think?' And you'll not believe me, but I speak quite withoutexaggeration, when I say that one woman out in Raising assured megravely that she was descended from the houses of York and Lancaster!"

  "_She didn't!"_ exclaimed Edith. "That is, if she did, she must havebeen _crazy_; and I won't have you going back to England and givingfalse impressions of us by repeating such stories. Promise me that youwill never repeat it there."

  "Oh, that's all right," he replied soothingly. "It's an extreme case, Igrant, and I'll say no more about it if it vexes you, but it is a truetale all the same. Howe was her name, I remember; and I felt likesaying,--I'll eat my hand if I understand Howe this can possiblybe,'--that's in the Bab Ballads,--but I didn't."

  Sir Robert had small opportunity of making acquaintance with Baltimore.He was very eager to get down into Virginia, and stayed there but twodays. On the second of these he attended a gentleman's dinner-party, theannual mile-stone of a military society composed of men who had worn thegray and marked the well-known tendency of tempus to fugit in thisagreeable fashion. Their ex-enemies of the blue were also there, but notin the original overwhelming numbers, and the battle was now to oneparty, now to the other, the race to the best _raconteur_, rivers ofchampagne flowed instead of brave blood, and the smoke of cannon wasexchanged for that of Havanas. Sir Robert's face beamed more and morebrightly as the evening wore on, and reminiscences, anecdotes, stories,jests, songs, were fluently and cleverly poured out in rapid successionby the hilarious company. The fun was at its height, when he suddenlyleaned forward with his body at an insinuating angle and smilinglyaddressed an officer opposite: "You must really let me say that I havebeen delighted by all that I have heard here to-night, and appreciatethe compliment you have paid me in permitting me to join you. And now Iam going to ask a great favor. Could you, would you, give me some ideaof 'the rebel yell,' as it was called? We heard so much about that. I ammost curious to hear it. It is always spoken of as perfectly terrifying,almost unearthly."

  The gentleman whom he addressed looked down the table and rapped to callattention to what he had to say: "Boys, this English gentleman is askingwhether we can't give him some idea of what the rebel yell is like. Whatdo you say? If our Federal friends are afraid, they can get under thetable, where they will be perfectly safe, and a good deal morecomfortable than they used to be behind trees or in baggage-wagons," hecalled out.

  A hearty laugh followed, and, their blood having got bubbles in it bythis time, a general assenting murmur was heard.

  The next instant a shriek, sky-rending, blood-curdling, savage beyonddescription, went up,--a truly terrific yell in peace, and enough tocreate a panic, one would think, in the Old Guard in time of war.

  "Thank you, thank you. _I am entirely satisfied"_ said Sir Robert, in acomically rueful tone, as soon as he could say anything for the uproar."I never imagined anything like it, never. Where did you get it? Whoinvented it? Is it an adaptation of some war-cry of the North AmericanIndians? It sounds like what one would fancy their cries might be,doesn't it? It has got all the beasts of the forest in it; and I confessthat I for one, would have fled before it and stayed in the wagons aslong as there was the slightest danger of hearing it. By Jove! it musthave been heard in Boston when given in Virginia. It is curious how veryancient the practice of--"

  But the company heard no more of curious practices, for their yell hadbeen heard, if not in Boston, in a far more remarkable quarter,--namely,by the police, who now rushed in, prepared to club, arrest, and carryoff any and all disorderly and dreadful disturbers of the peace.

  If Sir Robert had been in any danger of being murdered, all experiencegoes to show that no policeman could have been found before thefollowing morning, and then only in the remotest part of the city. As hewas merely being wined, dined, and amused, quite a formidable body ofthese devoted but easily-misled guardians of respectability andinnocence poured into the room, where at first they could see nothingfor the smoke. Matters were explained, they were invited to "takesomething" before they went, and took it, and, quite placated, filed outinto the passage again, and from thence into the street.

  Sir Robert sat up late that night, or rather began early on thefollowing day, to copy the stories he had most relished into the diary,and do what justice he could to "the rebel yell," and, having added anadmirably discriminating chapter on "the present political situation inthe States," concluded with, "How striking is the good sense, the goodfeeling, that both the conquerors and the conquered have shown, on thewhole! In other countries, how often has a war far less bloody andprotracted left in its wake evils far greater than the original one, inguerilla warfare, murders, ceaseless revolt, and smouldering hatredlasting for centuries on one side, and centuries of tyranny, oppression,executions, confiscations, on the other! A brave and fine race this, notmade of the stuff that goes to keep up vendettas, shoot landlords, blowup rulers, assassinate enemies. They can fight as well as any, and theyhave shown that they can forgive better than most,--taken toget
her, truemanliness. It may be that they are influenced by a consideration whichis said to be always present to an American,--'Will it pay?' and ofcourse so practical a people as this see that anarchy doesn't pay; but Iwould rather attribute their conduct to nobler, more generous motives,and in doing this seem to myself to be doing them no more than justice."

  F.C. BAYLOR.

  [TO BE CONCLUDED.]