Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by M. DOOLADY, In the Clerk's Office of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York. JOHN J. REED, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, 43 Centre Street, N.Y. CUPID'S ALBUM DEDICATED, WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE-TIME, TO GENERAL AND MRS. STERLING PRICE, BY ARCHIE ARGYLE. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Address to the Ladies............................................ 7 CHAPTER II. A short Chapter, into which the Gentlemen are politely requested not to look .................................................. 9 CHAPTER III. Glenarny......................................................... 11 CHAPTER IV. California--A Curative............................................ 14 CHAPTER V. Overland......................................................... 16 CHAPTER VI. St. Jo........................................................... 19 CHAPTER VII. A Perfect Fright................................................. 22 CHAPTER VIII. The Commodore.................................................... 23 CHAPTER IX. The Levee........................................................ 26 CHAPTER X. Lilian and Roland................................................ 30 CHAPTER XI. Madam Le Cook.................................................... 37 CHAPTER XII. The Water Spout.................................................. 43 CHAPTER XIII. Masculine Conceit--The Cure thereof.............................. 45 CHAPTER XIV. Domestic Difficulties............................................ 47 CHAPTER XV. Rocky Mountains.................................................. 50 CHAPTER XVI. The War of Castes again.......................................... 51 CHAPTER XVII. Our Fears Realized............................................... 53 CHAPTER XVIII. Up the Mountains--Bitter Creek................................... 56 CHAPTER XIX. Salt Lake City........................................ 60 {centered} CHAPTER XX. Visiting the Palace................................... 63 {centered} CHAPTER XXI. Ringing the Bell...................................... 65 {centered} CHAPTER XXII. Letter from Lilian.................................... 69 {centered} CHAPTER XXIII. Visiting the Neighbors................................ 74 {centered} CHAPTER XXIV. One of the Twelve..................................... 80 {centered} CHAPTER XXV. Mysterious Springs--The Wedding....................... 85 {centered} CHAPTER XXVI. Evangeline and Basil.................................. 91 {centered} CHAPTER XXVII. The Crowded Coach.................................... 95 {centered} CHAPTER XXVIII. Passing Lake Tahoe................................... 100 {centered} CHAPTER XXIX. Roland and Lillian................................... 106 {centered} CHAPTER XXX. Sacramento and the Bay............................... 108 {centered} CHAPTER XXXI. The Occident and the Orient.......................... 112 {centered} CHAPTER XXXII. The Mongolian Esculpians with the Lamp of Alladin.... 119 [centered} CHAPTER XXXIII. The Cliff and the Bachelors.......................... 129 {centered} CHAPTER XXXIV. Reminiscences........................................ 133 {centered} CHAPTER XXXV. Azrael's Wing........................................ 137 {centered} CHAPTER XXXVI. Santa Clara.......................................... 144 {centered} CHAPTER XXXVII. My Friend and my Tickets............................. 156 {centered} CHAPTER XXXVIII. Woman's Love......................................... 167 { {CENTERED} BOOK THE SECOND. {CENTERED} CHAPTER I. Over the Seas........................................ 171 {centered} CHAPTER II. Chiarosucro.......................................... 181 {centered} CHAPTER III. Sabbath upon the Sea.............................. 186 {centered} CHAPTER IV. Neptune and Cupid................................. 194 {centered} CHAPTER V. Pets and Loves.................................... 199 {centered} CHAPTER VI. Miss Penault's Ride.............................. 204 {centered} CHAPTER VII. Charles the Brave................................ 211 {centered} CHAPTER VIII. Where the Continents Meet........................ 224 {centered} CHAPTER IX. In the Caribbean Sea............................. 237 {centered} CHAPTER X. True Stories of True Love........................247 {centered} CHAPTER XI. White Rose Buds..................................258 {centered} CHAPTER XII. Night and Morning................................264 {centered} CHAPTER XIII. Photography and Phenology.......................270 {centered} CHAPTER XIV. Gossip on the High Seas.........................293 {centered} CHAPTER XV. Beatrice........................................299 {centered} CHAPTER XVI. The Haven at Last in View......................308 {centered} CHAPTER XVII. The Shipwreck..................................324 {centered} CHAPTER XVIII. Robert Van Armat...............................330 PREFACE.

THE cause, which is my inspiration, will, I trust, be accepted as my apology for offering these hastily--written pages to the intelligent public. Hope, however, refers me to impromptu efforts which have appeared especially blessed of heaven.

During the fervor of composition, when what seemed to me to be beautiful flowers of thought, sprang spontaneously beneath my pen, I own I believed I must please the reader. But when Finis was written, and reflection stood over it, reminding me that my style did not in the least resemble that of the popular Mr. Arp, so called, nor the renowned Artemas Ward, Esq.; neither that of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "The Woman in White," nor "Three Times Dead;" nor had I so much as a single pair of lovers making love, and taking tea in the library, as has been the case with so many of the fashionable novels, which have followed in the wake of Jane Eyre; I sank almost insensible into the affectionate embraces of my old arm chair, cherry-cheeked hope for the moment deserting me,--pale spectral despair usurping her place, and sending from the tips of her icy fingers a chill of horror over my frail anatomy. Being a creature of impulse, I verily believe had the manuscript then been within my reach, I would have applied the sacrificial torch, offering all my heroes and heroines upon the altar of Moloch. Since that time, however, hopes and fears have alternated. And now, instead of viewing with your mental eye a proud woman, clothed in purple, with arms folded in all the beatitude of Pharisaic self-sufficiency, behold prostrate at your feet an humble suppliant for that charity which thinketh no evil.

{right justified}THE AUTHOR. CUPID'S ALBUM. BOOK THE FIRST. IN SEARCH OF HYGEIA. CHAPTER I. ADDRESS TO THE LADIES.

PARDON me, gentlemen, for proscribing you. My reasons are complimentary. I have neither the vanity nor presumption to aspire to the instruction or amusement of my superiors; hence I am content if, happily, I may fall upon something which will serve as a divertisement for my peers.

Should you, however, but condescend now and then to take a peep into "Cupid's Album," you may possibly "hear of something to your advantage." But fancy not, oh sapient sirs! that I have any idea of turning king's evidence and giving you an infallible recipe for the management of your spouses, present and prospective. My object, I assure you, is quite the reverse; for I hold that he (not she) is happiest who is best managed.

But mark the treatment. If you will but continue, fair ladies, to keep your lieges in love with themselves, there will be little danger of their falling out of love with you; and so long as you retain your hold upon their affections, you can guide them as you wish, with no care about the reins.

But you are to remember, ladies, that it requires a greater effort to retain than to gain their affections. The one appears to be the result of magic. The other requires means.

But lest you, gentlemen, should hear of this, and feel disposed to turn up your cynical though lordly noses, at the idea of a woman's presuming to sound the depths of masculine nature, I will state that I can, if required, produce a diploma from the highest institution for the acquisition of that style of knowledge on this planet. I leave it to your ingenuity, however, to locate my Alma Mater. More anon!

Now, you are not to fancy, gentlemen, that we are afraid of you--this pen of mine and I--oh, no! We have received attentions entirely too flattering from the most refined of your sex, to feel the least particle of fear of any mortal man, unless, indeed, he be a Dutchman. Since I think of it, I do believe I am afraid of Johnny Bull; in fact, I seldom see one of his boys without an instinctive dread of the horns. But, as to Irishmen, I am fully prepared, from personal knowledge, to endorse the truth of that aphorism, with which you are all familiar, as to the Irish gentleman's being the finest of all gentlemen, and, I will add, the most charming of lovers, though they tell me the most indifferent of husbands. My friend Mr. O'Shaughnessy refutes this latter clause in this wise: "Irishmen," he says, "are so much more charming as lovers that the contrast is felt all the more acutely when they subside into husbands, as other men." So they are not worse husbands, but better lovers. This willful pen of mine has led me into a work more profound than I intended beginning in the present chapter. I simply sought to make acquaintance with you. We have been firm friends, this little pen and I. Even now it flies so loosely hither and thither, and acts so capriciously, one can see it has been spoiled by fond indulgence. Ah, yes! my little darling, we have had pleasant times together. We did not dwell in Attica--classic Attica, cradle of letters--place ever sacred to genius and rats--in those days, did we? Ah, no! We lived in a fairy home; a fountain played beneath our window, and the delicate multiflora climbed up and peeped in through snowy embroideries upon us; and we heard sweet words from those whose names are ever destined to live in song and story. But we were not partners in business then; we were simply loving friends. We had no carping cares nor vulgar thoughts. We worked for love, not money. Ah! could I but think thou wouldst demean thyself as thou didst when I had troops of other friends, I would embrace thee; I would bless thee, and say to thee, thou hast taught me to know myself--thou hast consoled me for the loss of all.

CHAPTER II. {SMALL CAPS} A SHORT CHAPTER INTO WHICH THE GENTLEMEN ARE POLITELY REQUESTED NOT TO LOOK.

COME, my little friend, dost thou mean to serve me well, this day, and is thy mood gay or grave, lively or severe? Shall we soar away on golden pinions of fancy, to the sunlit realms of poesy, or come down to this dull, unromantic work-a-day world of ours?

Verily, I believe thou art a Jemima, for thou sayest already too much fancy work is done by the ladies of the day.

And the gentlemen, pen--what shall we say of them? Shall we coquet them a little bit, pen--just a little bit? for thou knowest well, Jemima though thou art, that there's no use trying to win them unless we tickle their vanity. Ahem!

In truth, pen, they are not so romantic and silly as our sex. They have no curiosity, no vanity, no fondness for display nor fear of age; in fact, from none of the weaknesses common to us do they suffer. One would imagine they had no mothers, or at least never took after them. Suppose an artist were to attempt to embody any of the attributes of humanity enumerated in the above category, think you there would be a masculine figure in the group? Never!

Curiosity would be personated by a feminine head with a peering eye and a delicate finger prying into somebody's else's pie. Vanity would be a ball-room belle, fondly gazing upon the pleasing image reflected by her mirror, or else a rustic lassie tricked out for a festival and pausing upon the banks of some crystal streamlet to behold her charms. Pride would play the part of a stiff-necked matron blazing with jewels, while fear of age would be, alas! an old maid, starting back, with thin, disheveled locks and looks affrighted, warding off, with arms uplifted, the approach of the monster, Time, who threatens her with his embraces. And yet we know a thing or two on this point, do we not, pen?

We haven't spent our winters in the gay society of fashionable capitals, and witnessed the sensibility of grave and dignified senators and autocrats of the land on this little point, nor graduated in the highest institution extant for the acquisition of this sort of knowledge, for nothing, have we, pen? Now, I dare say somebody thinks we have learned all we know in a certain time-honored institution--yclept matrimony. Ha! ha! ha! Arn't they mistaken, with all their acuteness--arn't they? No, indeed; it was a far more prosaic institution than matrimony, as we view it. But thereby hangs a tale, the first chapter of which will be called Glenarny, ladies, gentlemen, mules, mountains, Mormons, miners, monkeys, whales, children, Chinamen, Cupid's Album presented me by Neptune, while sailing over a tropical sea, follows; and so the show begins, the curtain rises, the entertainment is varied--tragic, comic, and hippodromic.

CHAPTER III. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} GLENARNY.

WHEN nature went round over the face of the earth, scattering beauty about, I think she must have lingered lovingly over Glenarny, giving it here and there an extra touch, and smiling, well-pleased at the marvelous beauty of her handiwork.

Right well I remember how it distressed me in my childhood's happy days, as I passed the place on my way to a country school, to see it in possession of an indolent man of limited means, and how I besought my uncle Arny, brother-in-law to the chieftain, and of the same name, to purchase it, that we might assist nature in her evident design of making it an elegant seat for a country gentleman.

This uncle was wealthy and childless, and although he had a score of nieces and nephews, it was supposed that the graceful mantle of lady of the manor would descend to my shoulders. At length, no less to my surprise than my delight--for it was the verification of a bright dream--I learned that my uncle had purchased Glenarny, and determined upon improving it. Young as I was, my love for the beautiful, and my attempts to imitate and even originate objects of beauty, often brought a smile and a knowing wink from my elder relatives, who marveled at my youthful performances. And thus it came about. I was promised, that in the embellishmeut of the place, my tastes alone should direct. To this end I became a keen observer of architectural beauty, and a faithful student of works of art and taste. The most accomplished architects, with no less professional skill than bigotry, submitted plan after plan--none suited my romantic views. And many a homily they delivered upon my ignorance, my conceit, and my willfulness.

But they passed unheeded. I clung pertinaciously to the idea of an old Baronial Castle of mediæval times, which I had seen in my travels. No modern mansion I had ever beheld would satisfy me. The castle of Glenarny must be one which would awaken sleeping memories of times when knights of chivalry, and queens of beauty, not creatures in the common mould like those I saw around me, peopled the earth. Neither would I submit to professional skill in the decorations of the grounds; my own poetic fancy dictated every thing, nature being allowed to revel in her wild luxuriance. Only here and there we lent her a helping hand, and then not as master, but eléve.

Ah yes, my loved, my lost, my beautiful Glenarny!

Where is the air so fresh and pure, the elms so old and stately, the oaks so tall and aristocratic, the wild vines so graceful and affectionate, as they cling round the stalwart hackberry, or the slender wild cherry? Where is the hickory so promising of winter cheer, and the fruit so delicious as upon thy broad lands, oh beautiful Glenarny! Where is the grass so green, and where do the sheep, and the little pigs, and the lowing cattle, speak so eloquently of plenty as upon thy broad lands, oh lovely Glenarny?

How often have I wandered along the banks of thy rippling streams with all thy minature Niagaras, pausing ever and anon to admire the handiwork of nature or to laugh at my own futile attempts to imitate the native songsters of the forest! Here the mocking bird plays prima donna, the dove coos the sentimental heroine, the woodpecker is the man of business, the red bird the beau, the partridge acts the watchful mother, while the squirrel frisks nimbly around, displaying his talent in comedy. Here have I sat and whiled away the live-long day, realizing that there is no book for the study of æsthetics to equal the great volume of nature. Had Eve left paradise with a conscience void of offense, I marvel if her heart had been heavier than mine when we left Glenarny.

The war came. The whole army clan sprang to arms. And not more moved was Bruce, or Wallace or William Tell, than Glenarny's gray-haired chieftain. You might pass whole blocks of palaces in the cities of the land, and princely country seats, and if you asked "Who dwells here?" the answer would be "The master of the mansion is with the army, fighting for his country." Our situation was such that we were subject to visits from predatory bands, belonging to either or neither army. O sad, sad hour of my country's peril! Oh that thou and I, my pen, shouldst have lived to record the desolation of Glenarny! Her daughters wandering in distant lands, and her sons fighting in the sacred cause of liberty.

But there was another enemy of our race more feared for me than all the dread enginery of war. Already the pride of our house, just when nature, education and manhood had severally conferred their patents of nobility upon him paused, and rested his head beneath the friendly sod of a foreign soil. A white tablet with roses clustering round it told where another in her youth and beauty lay sleeping in her bridal robes.

CHAPTER IV. {CENTERED SMALL CAPS} CALIFORNIA, A CURATIVE.

AND so it was that when another cheek grew pale, and another step became languid, those who loved her were only too eager to agree with the high priests of medical science in banishing her to a more genial clime.

Try every thing before you resort to medicine, was the honest advice of the distinguished son of Esculapius in his diagnosis of the case. A journey over the plains, and a residence for a year or two in California, would be a specific for you.

Live night and day in the open air. Hope, and a certain love of adventure and of novelty, induced me to hail the proposition with joy. The time was favorable. I knew a party of choice spirits who contemplated emigrating to the peaceful Pacific shore, and I resolved to accompany them. When the intelligence was communicated to my friends, with one accord they all exclaimed: "What, you make that hard trip? You, whose head the winds of heaven have never been permitted to visit too roughly? You, undertake that long journey over desert waste and mountain top? The idea is absurd. You'll never go. I'll wager any amount of jewels and silks upon it."

With a degree of obstinacy truly feminine or masculine, (I vow I cannot tell you, pen, whether to say that characteristic is an inheritance from my father or my mother), these rebuffs and discouragements only confirmed my decision all the more speedily. And then the practicality as well as the romanticality, (if I may be allowed to trifle with the king's vernacular, and my own as well), pleased me. Naturally I had a susceptible conscience, and education had rendered it so arbitrary that it was perpetually interfering with my most innocent pleasure, continually twitching me upon the uselessness of my mode of life even while my friends were lauding for what they were pleased to term my efficiency. We all know what resolutions amount to; like promises, they seem only made to be broken.

But here before me was a prospect of returning to those primitive habits of life which I had heard my ancestors panegyrize, and which were warranted to make a woman of me. Subsequently I found that a no less elegant than practical apothegm, which for the sake of consistency I must render into more refined and classic English than that in which it is usually clothed, was the motto for the plains.

But you have already anticipated me, ingenious reader. Ah! when will I remember that to be considered profound, a writer must become obscure? Who shall deliver me from my old fashioned affection for conciseness and perspicuity?

How I long for a set of literary weights! There is apothecary's weight for drug-store things, and avoirdupois weight, and various other weights known to the school-boy, at some time or other, to his sorrow; but where are the weights by which to test to a mathematical certainty the specific gravity of literary matter? I like the notion of the distinguished gentleman who wrote to his friend to "excuse the length of his letter; he had not time to make it shorter." But how we have digressed! We were speaking of that little motto, the essence of conciseness and perspicuity, but which we were endeavoring to render into that profound and ornate English demanded by the fashion of the day.

Now, as the aphorism in question is quite as applicable to those who live in California, as those on their way, or indeed, I may say to those whose destiny is cast in the present age, I will attempt to reproduce it, premising merely that you will pardon the classic allusion embodied in the substantive, and for which I am indebted to a certain temper of the muses to which San Franciscans delight to have recourse. So here goes it: "Dive among the radicals' diminutive squelogean, or shuffle off this mortal coil."

{centered} CHAPTER V. {CENTERED} OVERLAND.

WHAT pleased me most of all was, that I was so often told by the senior wranglers in the school I was about entering, that it was the finest institution imaginable in which to learn human nature.

Some even went so far as to say, that a man might live twenty years with his spouse and then not know her unless he had crossed the plains with her.

Surely no human being who ever lived or died, stood so much in need of tuition in this school as I. I always contended that if we should hold a grand moral carnival with a general unmasking of hearts, it would end in a fraternal jubilee, with a shaking of hands and a kissing all round. But not so thought the worldly wise.

Well, with the outfitting my instructions began. What a dear, good, kind family the human family is, to be sure--when they have things to sell you, and how liberally they give advice! I found that every shop-keeper, man or woman, though their existence had been bound by the city limits, knew precisely what I needed far better than I could possibly be supposed to know myself.

Had I been preparing for a voyage to New Zealand or Kamschatka, the cases would have been identical. Every body who had shoes, or blankets, or baskets, or goggles or anything whatever pertaining to traveling gear to sell, knew just exactly what would suit me. Thus they seemed to reason: here in my own person is the embodiment of all good sense, while there, alas, is but a silly child who cannot be expected to know what she requires. "That lady appears to be outfitting for California," said the astute Mr. Grinn, of the flourishing firm of Grinn & Barrett, to my lady friend. "Who is she?" "Mrs. Argyle," was the answer. "Oh yes, Jones knows her." Then touching his clerk with a yard stick (I saw that some sort of mercantile cabalism was going on), he whispered: "Smith, don't let Mrs. Argyle escape you."

At length the sad hour of parting came, saddest day of all the journey. But there were gleams of sunshine to gladden even this dark day. Presents and demonstrations of good will and affection sprang up from most unexpected quarters. Letters came from persons to whom we had hitherto imagined ourselves objects of but trifling interest, all regretting to give us up and wishing invariably that our "golden dreams might be realized." We found the packet crowded with emigrants, and emigrating apparatus, mules, horses, and wagons.

And now, for the first time, I began to realize what an important part the mule plays in the animal creation. How we watched the good creatures, and how learnedly we discoursed of them! I as well as the rest; for had I not invested largely in the long-eared tribe, and who had a better right to know the points of a mule than I?

Every one chided us for looking sad, when we were only traveling for health and pleasure, with the expectation of returning in one short year.

"Oh," said some of the ladies, with tears in their eyes, "if I were only half so happily circumstanced, I would never murmur; as for us we have no hope of ever seeing home again. We passed all the loved scenes of our childhood. Every spot, endeared by some fond association--many rendered classic by incidents of the war, in which we have played a part."

{centered} CHAPTER VI. {CENTERED} ST. JO.

FINALLY we landed at St. Joseph; and now began the work of outfitting in earnest. We felt much relieved to hear on the levee that our mules had all arrived safely, as they were in no little danger from bushwhackers, jay-hawkers, red legs and other parties with cabalistic cognomens.

We even drove to the camp before going to the hotel. There must be something of the natural nomad about us which all these years of civilization has not eradicated, we take so readily to tents. Upon this occasion we were introduced to a no less important functionary than our cook. We ladies had, however, no sooner laid our eyes upon her than we pronounced her unfit for her high position. I make no pretensions to anything above charlatanry in medical science; but I am firmly of the opinion that the treatment administered by the renowned Mr. Squeers to the luckless boys at Datheby's hall would have done that woman good. I glanced at her digits, and in every little red pustule discovered an additional reason for her husband's anxiety for a written contract.

We ladies, in the excess of our indignation, considered the agreement annulled by her unfitness for the post, but not so our brother. He paid her handsomely and discharged her.

Cooks and employees abounded in St. Joseph, as every body seemed frantically rushing from the war. Next time we engaged a restaurant cook of the masculine persuasion, compensating ourselves for the little pecuniary sacrifice by wholesale denunciation of the whole tribe of cuisine feminines.

We occupied ten days in training our mules and buying everything everybody advised us to buy. Such was the reputation of our party, more especially of the clergyman, that we received letters from parties far and near, begging to be permitted to join us. Many deeply regretted their inability to join us: an opportunity to cross the plains in such society might never again occur. All of which was very pleasant. But now came the good things: Great big ginger cakes, and greater and bigger plum cakes, and boiled hams, and red blankets and baskets, and demijohns and cans hermetically sealed, etc., poured in upon the pastor, who, with tears of love and gratitude to his well-beloved charge, bade them adieu!

Quite a crowd was assembled in front of the Pacific Hotel to await our departure and bid us God speed.

And now came the delightful part for me--i.e., that of being introduced to the dramatis personæ of the little play we were about to enact upon this new theatre. Here is my hero, thought I, as I bowed to a graceful cavalier with pearly teeth and a moustache that a Greek might have envied--handsome, graceful, gentlemanly, congenial in every respect;--just the material of which I am in search.

I am ready to ascribe to him every good and noble quality that adorns and dignifies human nature. Shall I be deceived in him? for here I am to read men as books; such were my thoughts.

We left the city about three o'clock, only journeying about a mile and a half, just to see how we should feel camping out, I suppose. And now, O all ye lady friends, ye who have spent your lives in a series of domestic vicissitudes, if you have tears of sympathy for your fellow-sufferers, prepare to shed them now; for we found ourselves minus the professional cook--plus, a raw Irishman, whose wit and good nature were our sole compensation for his inexperience.

The scene of our first camp was very beautiful. A Gothic cottage crowned the summit of the hill; velvety blue grass and stately trees adorned the sides; while at the base our white tents, with ladies, gentlemen and little children dispersed in picturesque groups, all cheerful and busy, completed a charming tableaux. I confess to some misgivings in regard to our first meal; but as Jamie seemed to be embarrassed by the presence of ladies in his department, we concluded it would be but fair to grant him a trial. His faith in himself was unbounded, and that, you know, always inspires confidence. Finally, we saw him get out the little pine table, screw in the legs and arrange the "silver-ware" in fantastic fashion. I am of the opinion that there was a little flour in the saleratus of which our biscuit were composed, probably enough to preserve them from disseveration.

"Jamie," said I, eyeing them askance, "these are beautiful yellow like gold--typical of the fruition that is to crown our golden dreams in the El Dorado towards which we are hieing."

"Yes, mim," says Jamie, with an expression of mortification in his countenance, "but golden dreams is dreams, and golden biscuits is--biscuits."

"Realities, you mean, Jamie."

"Precisely so, mim, and may your ladyship niver lack for the likes of them."

{centered} CHAPTER VII. {CENTERED} A PERFECT FRIGHT.

NEXT morning I started out in advance of the train for a walk. Presently I stopped to rest, and had the satisfaction of beholding various vehicles which I knew must be additions to our train, slowly rolling over the hills.

As I was standing beside the way abstractedly gazing upon them, I was startled by the familiar voice of our clergyman, calling out to some one "to get out of the way there, you'll frighten my horses." I stood still, bowing and smiling to the ladies, never dreaming that any allusion was made to myself, when the injunction was repeated, with no little vim either. And upon looking into the little peripatetic boudoir of an ambulance, in which I saw the aforesaid lovely ladies, I perceived an expression akin to amazement upon their countenances. On the other side of the way stood a plough-boy, looking for all the world as though his neck had been caught in a mouse-trap. His eyes fairly protruded from their sockets, and his tongue seemed to be hanging by a ligament. Every hair was erect, and his face red as Mars. A country gentleman passed on his way to the city and I distinctly heard him invoke the shade of Mephistophiles--only he addressed the gentleman by his Saxon title. Well, there I stood innocently looking from one member of the group to the other. I examined my dress, and fitness being recognized, according to Lord Kames and other eminent authorities, as an essential attribute of beauty, it was unexceptionable. Gray plaid poplin trimmed with steel buttons, sacque ditto, Balmoral boots, with patent-leather tips, and two long elaborate rows of eyelets, every one of which received a bran new cord--tied probably with a view to the audience--in a double bow knot at the top, Shaker bonnet neatly (and as I flattered myself), somewhat coquetishly trimmed, with a long brown vail and a portfolio attached to a broad ribbon, which rested upon one shoulder and passed under the other, as the queen wears her ribbon. What could be in better taste--all things considered?

And then as to my person, I bethought me of my first ball-room compliment, "elle est la rose de la salon," and have I not fondly cherished the delusion that one glance of my blue eye, was sufficient to melt the heart of--of--well, after all I can think of nothing harder than the heart of a bachelor, (but then you know I did not like to say that), and yet there I was, literally accused of frightening a horse--and a preacher's horse at that. And all because of a little chamois skin mask which my mama, a true lady of the old school, insisted I should wear to preserve my complexion from the evils of tan and alkaline excoriation.

{centered} CHAPTER VIII. {CENTERED} THE COMMODORE.

COME, jog along, my little pen. The ladies may be growing weary since the way is long and the wind is cold, "thought the minstrel is not infirm and old." So if thou never didst understand tachygraphy before, bestir thyself now, for I felicitate myself that thou at least owest thy paternity to the feathery tribe, and shouldst betake thyself to flight as a duck to the water. So tell the ladies briefly as thou mayest, how after this trifling interruption to our vanity and our walk, we stumbled upon an oak-embowered tent, around which was disposed a family group in such picturesque fashion as to remind one of Meg Merilles and her half elfin race. As I stood gazing upon the scene, two ladies ran out exclaiming, "Oh, how I do admire you! I am not jesting, that mask is perfection! So much superior to ours, Jennie. But who are you?"

"Maskers always have other people at advantage," I replied, "and I see nature has been so lavish in her gifts to you, that I am not disposed to resign any little fortuitous favors fortune may throw in my way. Mentally I christened her the Sultana." "I am so anxious to know your name," she continued, without paying any attention to this remark. I cried "Here comes the commodore." "And who is the commodore?" she bewilderingly inquired.

The Commodore, ladies, is a gentleman of exceedingly high bred and distinguished bearing--as you will see. So superior indeed are his mental and physical endowments, that he fully merits his exalted title. His mien is majestic, lordly. He wears a glossy sorrel coat, and on his legs there are sundry dark colored stripes, seeming to betoken his descent from the zebra tribe. He is none the lest interesting to me from that fact, however, for I am a descendant of the Asiatics myself. His eyes are a brilliant hazel, and his ears just long enough to give him the proper expression--for a mule he is. The barber has left him but a scanty fly-bush on the end of his tail which he has a way of switching in a manner peculiar to himself. I do wish you could see him hitched up beside "the Judge," a very dignified quadruped indeed, and one who owes his patronymic to an advocate of no mean pretensions.

The Commodore half turns his head, giving us a look and a shake of the tail, which says as plainly as words, "It is altogether useless to put the Judge in here; I can command this craft myself and not half try; but inasmuch as you have taken the trouble to hitch him up, I'll let him stay, for it will take a gentleman of superior qualifications to get any work out of him. And now, ladies, this way if you please; permit me to present to you the beauty of the train, a lady no less gifted in her sphere than the illustrious personage to whom she is indebted for her name. This, ladies, is Jessie Fremont." Pompey! ladies, allow me, gracious ladies, to present Pompey! an exceedingly useful fellow, with a glossy black coat, and the very cunningest eye you ever beheld. He has such a self-satisfied air, and withal so many cute little tricks, that he is destined to make a figure somewhere. "There can be nothing impossible to the man who believes in himself," says Mirabeau. And I feel that I shall be guilty of no disrespect to the great Frenchman if I apply this sententious phrase of his to animals of a lower grade.

Pompey, as I was saying, has a trick of making believe he is doing wonders when he isn't pulling a pound; and yet, if occasion requires it, he will take the whole load upon himself and walk off with an air which seems to say, "See what I can do when it pleases me to try; but it doesn't always suit me to exert myself; heigh ho!" I would be doing my race injustice, ladies, were I to introduce to you these specimens of our serving folks, and fail to present the driver. A most excellent fellow he is, with a freckled face and red hair; his lips always have a moist look, and but for his evident admiration for the fair sex; you would think him too lazy for any thing.

I can compare the all-overishness of his manner of taking a seat to nothing in nature but a wet rag. When he sits down, he seems to sit down all over. The only command I ever heard him give his mules, was to cry out authoritatively and laconically, "Pomp!" which Pompey understood to mean, that his master was aware of the deception he was attempting to practice upon him, and to repeat the tactics of that famous military commander, who ordered his company to prepare for to git up and git--now git.

{centered} CHAPTER IX. {CENTERED} THE LEVEE.

WE encamped early these spring afternoons, thinking it wise to husband the strength of our animals in the outset. I remember we had a levee at the Captain's tent, and the gentlemen were decidedly merry at the expense of the ladies and the masks. Mr. Armathe, of the Grecian moustache, declared so sagacious a brute as Joseph Trotwell would never have carried a certain lady ten miles on that day had he known what a frightful burden he was bearing. The Captain talked of issuing a decree abolishing the mask system. The Sultana thought I ought to present her with my mask, as it was necessary for me to have all the air and sunshine possible, while I contended that the mind had a powerful influence over the body, and that my complexion being out of danger, my mind was at rest, so the mask system should be continued as a sanitary measure. Vanitas vanitatum! was the exclamation of the preacher, and the gentlemen all applauded.

Now, whether my arguments were conclusive, or whether, in fact, hygeia or the goddess of fashion presided over the deliberations of the ladies in this train, I shall never know; but, as a faithful historian, I can state that we had no sooner arrived at Nebraska city than every woman in the train, old and young, mistress and maid, wore a mask, and one old cook lady went so far as to procure a false countenance, in which some gentleman had probably appeared as Falstaff.

In this connection I remember how one gallant gentleman went so far as to declare that he was not going to be cheated out of his rights in that style.

"Where is the good," said he, "of packing all these ladies and their trunks along if one is never to have a glance at a pretty face?"

Behold us, ladies, fairly launched upon the plains; not a vestige of vegetation, except dwarfish grass of emerald green is to be seen; not a switch or twig of any kind; husbands and children may be as refractory as they please. There being no fear of Indians on the "Nebraska cut off," our tents are pitched ad libitum, around a crystal spring, the sole jewel of which the undulating hills and vales, under another day's travel, can boast. To liken it to a diamond amid a cluster of emeralds would be to compare gold to dross. It is with pride and pleasure, ladies, that we take advantage of the levee above alluded to to present you our friends on tableaux. The Captain chosen for his personal popularity is a young lawyer by profession, traveling chiefly for health and pleasure. He is tall, well-formed, and has whiskers, which are the admiration of the ladies, as well as a countenance worth all the written testimonials ever devised. He is playing with exquisite taste the violin, one of the drivers playing second meanwhile. His wife sits beside him in quite a luxurious camp chair. She has been a belle and a beauty, and remains one, if a husband's devotion is evidence upon this premise. The gentleman reclining amid a group of ladies upon the buffalo robe is Mr. Armathe of the Grecian moustache. His breathing is short and quick, being audible, and the deceitful hectic illumines his classic face. His manners are especially refined and gentlemanly, and his pronunciation distinguished by an individuality peculiarly attractive. In his weak state of health there is danger of his being literally killed with kindness by the ministering angels by whom he is surrounded. The Sultana--Mrs. Hallet--who is seated beside him, has flashing black eyes, a clear, smooth complexion, long, luxuriant black hair, all her own, and a very expressive mouth; her figure is almost faultless, slightly inclined to embonpoint, and her social talents only excelled by her personal and moral beauty. The lady sitting beside one of the ministers is his wife; he regards her with evident admiration, as well he may, for even the refiner's fire of an overland trip leaves her character as pure gold. We have a fine looking company of gentlemen dispersed in groups upon the grass, disciples of divinity, medicine, law, merchants, tailors boot-makers, blacksmiths, sailors and what not.

The lady who sat in the ambulance laughing at me the morning I frightened the minister's horses, and whom I mentally denominated "the Peri," is sitting apart upon a camp-stool, while your humble servant, ladies, is listening to her charming conversation. A person of extraordinary culture, she never overpowers you by grand demonstrations, yet amid the simplicity of her style, the treasures she has culled from Mount Parnassus do spring up now and then, taking you so by surprise you feel like applauding.

Clyde, the young brother of the writer, with his youthful nephew, "Brooks, of Sheffield," as he is facetiously styled by the gentlemen by his side, is narrating his adventures on a late mule hunt, to Miss Virgie Lee, a young lady who became exceedingly popular with the gentlemen, because of her beauty, her amiability and her--biscuit; thus proving the truth of that unpoetic aphorism, as to the way to a man's heart being down his throat. At a little distance Julia and Rosa Le Ray, charming sisters of the Sultana, are engaged in earnest conversation with Lilian De Laureal, the heroine of our story--the Evangeline who is destined to find her lost Basil upon the borders of the Golden State. Lilian has large rare eyes of violet blue; sometimes they are blue as the summer sky; anon, they are almost brilliantly black. Her hair is light brown, and beautifully disposed about her low, faultless brow. Her mouth is not perfect in repose, yet when her lips part, revealing her expressive teeth, you conclude that nature fashioned it thus in order to heighten your pleasure by the surprise she has held in reserve for you.

{centered} CHAPTER X. {CENTERED} LILIAN AND ROLAND.

SOME years ago, there lived in the city of Philadelphia, a family named Grattan. They occupied a palatial residence on Arch street. The season is September, the hour twilight. The first fire of the season imparts a cheery, inviting aspect to the room.

Beside it sits Mrs. Grattan, a richly dressed and beautiful lady, watching alternately with a mother's eye, the tableaux enacted upon the rug by little Mary and her kitten, and gazing abstractedly into the fire.

The door-bell rings, Mary springs to her father's embrace. The gas light now reveals a middle-aged, benevolent looking gentleman, attended by his two sons. One a young man of nineteen, the other, a lad of fifteen. "Louise," said Mr. Grattan, addressing his wife, "who do you suppose is in the city, arrived by the morning train from ----?"

"Judge De Laureal," quickly responded the wife, pleased with the idea of surprising, rather than of being surprised by her husband. "I met him with his little black-eyed niece, on Chestnut street, this afternoon."

"Black-eyed niece!" exclaimed Mr. Grattan. "Why, I never saw a pair of eyes so beautifully blue in all my life: they are like spring violets."

"Indeed, Mr. Grattan, they are strikingly, brilliantly black."

"Only think," said Willie, "of papa's noticing eyes at all."

"They must be blue-black," spoke up Roland. "There is such a color, is'nt there, mother?"

Quite an animated discussion ensued. Finally, Mr. Grattan, unwilling to yield his point, waived the subject by saying: "Well, boys, you can decide the matter for yourselves to-morrow evening, as I have invited the Judge and his niece to tea. I hope it will be convenient for you to receive them, Louise."

"Entirely so."

Roland Grattan was the light of his mother's eyes, the pride of her life, the idol of her heart. Although a stalwart young man of nineteen, and looking older, she seldom addressed him without a prefix of endearment. Sometimes her excessive fondness seemed to annoy him.

He was tall and well formed, with a peculiarly broad, manly looking chest and shoulders: his face was pale, his features regular and beautifully chiselled, and his eyes, of yellowish hazel, had at times an exceedingly genial, winning expression; habitually, however, a restless unhappy look, which invariably awakened interest, sat upon his face. Though he never complained of ill health, it seemed just possible to the casual observer, that this peculiar expression might be the result of physical suffering. This well-beloved son, gave his mother many anxious moments. Of late, a reckless young man, son of a gentleman of world-wide reputation, had become quite intimate with Roland. He did not, however, visit the house openly, but was forever calling about twilight, and luring him out to spend his evenings. How to win her son imperceptibly--for so it must be done--from such associations, became a question of vital importance to Mrs. Grattan.

To-morrow evening came. As the boys were descending to the parlor, Willie said, "Roland, what will you bet on that Chick-a-ro-kee's eyes, black or blue; Chockitaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee; which is she?" sang Willie, who had a fit of rhyming on him.

"Chickarokee, and blue-black eyes," responded Roland, smiling at Willie's gaiety.

The appearance of the Judge was very gentlemanly and dignified. The boys exchanged sly glances upon sight of the timid looking little creature who sat beside him. She was attired in a blue delaine dress, which fitted exquisitely. A snowy frill confined with a canary colored ribbon, encircled her throat, while a band of the same, served to confine the braids of her light brown hair.

Willie looked at Roland, and if eyes ever spake, his said, "blue eyes or black, what will you bet?"

Roland was thinking to himself, how is one ever to tell the color of those eyes with such long, black, silken, fringes over them. Meanwhile, the little stranger sat gazing unconsciously into the brightly blazing fire. At table, she was Roland's vis-a-vis. In reply to some trifling civility, she raised her eyes and politely thanked him. To save his life, he could not have told their color. Presently, Mrs. Grattan said:

"Lilian, we have excellent schools in Philadelphia; but do you think you will be contented so far from home?"

"I reckon so." Stammered poor little Lilian, almost ready to cry.

"Capital," said Willie to himself, "I wish she would speak again--her eyes are blue; father was right--I am glad I bet on him. 'I reckon so,' what a little Chick-a-rokee, sure enough."

Mrs. Grattan was heartily happy in seeing her eldest son evince so much interest in the conversation of Judge De Laureal. Nothing was said to Lilian. The conversation being very animated among the senior members of the circle.

At length Willie, who was about Lilian's age, crept quietly up to her side. Little May was before him, however. "Lilian," said May, "Willie was saying, out in the dining-room, just now, that he did wish you would say something, he loved to hear you talk." "What shall I say?" inquired Lilian, turning her blue eyes full upon Willie. "Oh, anything," rejoined Willie; "say 'I reckon so.'" "I see you are laughing at my provincial expressions. I am very sure it is my own fault if I do not use good English. Professor Gregory has taken great pains with my French and English, both; and then my father is very critical."

"I only wished to hear you speak; the expression about your mouth is so peculiar and your voice so unlike that of any one else I ever heard."

Roland was listening with a degree of interest his watchful mother could not fail to observe, to all this.

A bright idea flashed upon her. Accordingly it was decided that Lilian's Saturdays and holidays were to be spent with Mrs. Grattan. And so, when that lady kissed the little stranger good-bye, and called her Precious--a word she never in her life forgot--she felt as though her future in the great city would not be so cheerless after all. In time, Lilian was left in charge of the well-known Mrs. Chalmers--the Hannah More of the age, as Mr. Grattan, who knew her well, styled her. Saturday came, and ten o'clock Saturday evening came with many repetitions, but Willie's turn to escort Lilian back to her school room never came; it was always Roland; and yet, such was his manner, that Lilian thought Roland avoided her. It was with pleasure that Mrs. Grattan watched Lilian gradually conquering Roland's aversion to feminine society. Emboldened by her success she resolved upon putting it to a stronger test. There was to be a wedding in high life--the event of the season. Roland positively refused to attend. Mrs. Grattan accordingly procured an invitation for Lilian, which she handed her, saying, "My dear, would you like to do me a little favor?" "With all my heart," Lilian earnestly replied. "Well, then, ask Roland to accompany you to this wedding." Lilian blushed deeply; then she said, "I have no influence with him, Mrs. Grattan, I am sure he avoids me." "Why, my child, you are the only girl I could ever get him to treat with civility. I am sure he loves you as a sister." During the long walk to Spruce street that evening, Lilian, whose resources had been sorely taxed, said, "Roland, will you attend Mr. Taylor's wedding?" "No, I never go to such places," replied Roland, with the genial look in his eye, however. Lilian's poor little fluttering heart sank within her, but she rallied. What effort would she not have made to please Mrs. Grattan? "Roland, I shall never have another opportunity of seeing so grand a wedding. And unless you go I shall mope around like a wallflower. Of all the people who will be there I only know Commodore Jones' daughters, and they will have no time to bestow upon me, unless it be to show me up as a little Chickarokee, as Willie called me the evening I first came to your house." Lilian got these words out, she scarcely knew how. A long silence ensued; finally, as they were about to part on the door step, Roland, to Lilian's delight, said, "Really, Lily, if so trifling a thing as my going to that wedding, will make you happy for a whole evening, I'll go."

Next morning to Mrs. Grattan's pleasure, she heard Roland and his father discussing the merits of rival tailors, and she knew Lilian had succeeded.

Time passed very much in this peaceful, pleasant fashion, until Judge de Laureal came for his niece.

One day some beautiful dresses were displayed in Roland's presence, dresses made with a view to Lilian's debut into society. Roland looked at them with much apparent interest, saying, "Lily, you will be a belle out west, won't you? How those pretty things will set you off. But, Lily, we have better taste here in Philadelphia; you had better stay; you will be appreciated here. Jesting aside, Lilian, I am this day bearer of a proposal from one of the partners in our house, a bashful bachelor, who is deeply smitten with our little prairie Lily. I assure you, Lily, he asked yesterday in the gravest and most serious manner, to find out, if possible, whether you could be induced to write your name Lilian Pennington?"

Tears bedimmed poor Lilian's eyes. Roland did not love her then; if he could talk so coolly of marrying her to stiff Mr. Pennington, with whose eccentricities he had so often amused her. His next words, however, re-assured her. "I knew, Lilian, you would refuse him, but I promised, and I performed;" this was uttered in a serio-comic manner. How it all came about, Lilian could not have told, often as the poetic words resounded through the recesses of her heart--but she went home the betrothed bride of Roland.

Her nature was singularly reticent. She seldom mentioned Roland's name, except in her dreams. Her mother, even, knew not of her engagement. And when Lilian in the course of her first winter in society refused the best offers of marriage, of which the State could boast, Mrs. De Laureal said, with a heart-felt sigh, "My Lilian either loves Roland Grattan, or she is bereft of her senses." One short year brought sad changes to the fortunes of the Grattan family. Fires and losses at sea reduced them from opulence to bankruptcy. The good father, whose smile was a tower of strength to his family, died.

Roland, who expected to have gone west to claim his promised bride, wrote her detailing all the sad circumstances, informing her that he would embark with a party of friends for the golden shores of the Pacific, where they all confidently expected to make their fortunes in a year. "Droop not, my beautiful Lily: in a year at most, I will return to plant you forever by my side. Meanwhile, the memory of your love and your loveliness, will be a talisman to preserve me from danger." This was the last letter Lilian ever received from him. Three years passed, at the end of which Lilian heard that Roland had been married to a wealthy lady, the marriage of whose parents had been promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Grattan. Lilian had often heard the pleasant story repeated around the fireside. The circumstantial evidence of the truth of this report was so strong that Lilian's hopes could not even delude her into harboring a doubt.

Roland, meanwhile, so far from marrying an heiress, had been battling manfully, but adversely, with fortune. He received no replies to his letters to Lilian. Just when hope was on the point of deserting him, he received a handsome sum of money by a speculation in which he had engaged. His whole thoughts now were of mother and Lilian. About this time he met a gentleman from the west, who told him that Lilian De Laureal had been married to Mr. Lee Campbell, a gentleman of whom Roland had often heard Lilian speak. In fact, her father and uncle desired nothing so much as this very marriage.

Lilian's health declined. Her father loved her so tenderly that he perceived she had a secret grief and respected it. Her mother, however, urged her to accept either Mr. Campbell, or some of her other suitors. She only replied sadly enough: "My health is so delicate, that my conscience forbids my inflicting myself upon any one, mother."

About this time a gentleman, who subsequently became the captain of "our train," applied to a celebrated physician of St. Louis, for medical advice: informing him that he meditated a trip to California, overland. By a singular coincidence, Mr. Armat, Miss De Laureal, and another lady, in search of the lost daughter of Esculapius, consulted this justly distinguished physician, Dr. J. B. Johnson, the same day. He advised them all to join the overland party. Singularly enough they all belonged to the same mess, though neither knew of the existence of the other previous to this time.

{centered} CHAPTER XI. {CENTERED} MADAM LE COOK.

ALL this time our culinary vicisitudes were a source of mingled regret and mirth. We found that wit and good nature, though excellent as condiments were, by no means nutritious as articles of diet; so we sent an advertisement on ahead to Nebraska city, for a cook. No sooner had we arrived, than our typographical summons was answered by a stout, elderly, cleanly looking English woman. She was, certainly, the heaviest looking feminine of the genus homo, it has ever been my fortune to meet. She had not so much consideration for our mules as we afterwards learned, or I think we would scarcely have taken her up so readily; under the circumstances, we thought only of her ability to wash clothes, and make light rolls. Jamie's dignity was, I think, somewhat offended by the idea of being superseded, though, fortunately for him, his chagrin was held in abeyance by his all powerful good nature, for we did, as royalty has been known to do upon such occasions: we created a new office for the favorite. If we dismissed Jamie, who would awaken us to the tune of "Larry O'Brien" every morning at daylight?

Once when we were in a dangerous part of the country, some suspicious characters visited the camp. The night previous, three horses had been stolen in the neighborhood. Our guard found it necessary to fire a signal gun in the dead hour of night. Our imaginations were quite excited. These people spoke to Jamie of coming to church on Sunday, as we invariably rested and held religious services. Jamie replied:

"Certainly, gentlemen, certainly, we will be glad to see you at church on Sunday, only our preachers are after liftin' a collection when there's strangers about."

Upon another occasion, Joe, our Teutonic blacksmith, in saddling the captain's horse, reversed the position of the saddle, placing the pummel toward the animal's tail. Joe had a way of being exceedingly nice and deliberate in all his actions, so he buckled the last strap, and tied the horse securely. Jamie, meantime, gave quiet, but unmistakable evidence that his risible were agitated. We both watched Joe, as he with a self-satisfied air retired. Jamie could stand it no longer, so he called out: "Joe! Joe! I guess you don't know which way the master's going!"

Joe only gave a shrug of the shoulders and a grin, using his favorite expletive, "By gracious!" and proceeded to adjust the trappings.

From the evening of the levee until we struck the Platte, those natural guardians of our feminine welfare, who are, after all, the only sentient beings endowed with an unfailing fountain of common sense--in their own opinion--frequently found it necessary to remind us that this part of the way was but a pleasure trip.

I well remember I wrote not a line home without asking that beautiful though sober-clad lady, whose breath is pure as the air of morning, and who rules in the councils of Heaven, though she is, alas! too often jilted by the tourist, to take me under the shadow of her wing. I was well aware that all my little world of friends were at that time restless and ready to fly to some other point of the compass than that upon which they now sojourned.

But conscientious as I was, I am afraid some of the coloring of my own enthusiastic nature will slip into those pen pictures. I knew there were few who would find so much to enjoy in the social circle, to say nothing of the bright sunshiny days, the pure, dewless, starry nights on these expansive, grassy plains, so I tried to write very carefully lest some one should be induced to follow my example and find it a delusion. For the sake of novelty, I suppose, we ladies were exceedingly anxious to get beyond the pale of civilization.

Though we looked forward from day to day with pleasure at the idea of meeting the overland coach with its heavy freight of passengers, these were invariably gentlemen who grew merry at the expense of the maskers. One day I was walking alone; the gentleman on the outside of the coach was boisterous in his merriment. I could feel the hot blood tingling through my veins. "He looked like a gentleman," thought I, "and he might have known I was a lady, (or I would not be taking so much pains with myself;)" but suddenly I remembered that every feminine in the train had followed the fashion. In one of these walks, I encountered a gentleman from Iowa, who concluded, (either from the expression of my chamois skin countenance, or from the fact that I was a woman, and could not be expected to understand such mysteries,) that I had never heard of the Crittenden Com-promise, (accent on the second syllable,) so he treated to an explanation of it, ending by assuring me that it would have saved the Union.

At length we reached the Platte--the shallow, turbulent, treacherous Platte--with its thousand fairy islands, all full of leafy trees, while we in sight must buy wood at fabulous prices or starve.

And now we began to fall in with the mass of emigration, the traveling city of one hundred thousand inhabitants.

At noonday I fell asleep, and I dreamed of a giant horse. His mien was majestic and his trappings were gay. His eyes were brilliant as burning coals, and from his nostrils issued flame and smoke. His mane and tail were bristling with carbines, and scimetars, and swords of polished steel, and as he moved hither and thither, he dragged a ponderous chariot over the bodies of bleeding and dying men. When I saw his fiery eyes and heard his hoarse roar, it sounded more fiercely far than the lions of Abysinia or the tigers of Bengal.

Then as the awful echo died away, the piteous wail of the widow and the helpless cry of orphanage resounded from afar. Verily, thought I, as I awoke and looked out upon the tented city, who would not fly before the face of a monster of such hideous mien?

The sunsets along the Platte were gorgeous beyond conception, and the scenery, though not varied, was always beautiful. On either side extended the boundless grassy plain. Even with its banks was this restless, rushing, roaring river; wave lashing wave, as if in mad haste to rush into the embrace of the mighty Father of Waters.

The roads were as smooth as if made to order. And nature's emerald carpet, often relieved by patches of brilliant scarlet flowers, with the perfume of heliotrope, also large beds of delicate white flowers which bloomed in clusters, the fragrance of which was identical with Patchouly.

We kept our ambulance gaily and aromatically decorated. Those romantic nomads, of whom I was one, who were so anxious to get beyond the pale of civilization, had their equanimity no little disturbed by the continual presence of the telegraph wires, as well as the neat, comfortable looking cedar and adobe cottages, distributed every four or five miles along the way. And was it not absolutely provoking, when one was so desirous of turning Arab for the nonce, to be perpetually beholding ladies fashionably dressed, sometimes crotcheting, sometimes making ice-cream, with long rows of ultra-civilized looking oyster-cans, hermetically sealed, vegetation, Brown Stout, English ale, porter, creme de vie, etc., etc., ornamenting the stiffest and most painfully enlightened looking shelves of cedar that ever anybody beheld!

About this time, however, a visit from our would-be nomadic brethren had the effect of shaking our romance from turret to foundation stone.

Sunday evening it was, just after services, when three gaily painted and picturesque looking warriors, came boldly driving a little cart, drawn by a black and speckled pony, right into the midst of our august cooking camp. Think of the audacity! Out they pitched their wood, however, and while one went begging the others began making the fire. Every one it seems directed the former to the Captain's domicil. Mr. Armat was reposing upon the buffalo robe, while I, who was writing a letter, was startled by the words "Boano Squaw give money. Paper money no goot."

I imagined that the adjective was meant to be complimentary, so I smiled, and began playing the agreeable hostess, by exhibiting the curiosities of our lodge. First and foremost of which was a superb Henry's rifle. I remember counting the seventeen cartridges to the astonished aborigines with no little pride and pleasure.

Just as I had concluded this display of firearms, informing him that our squaws understood their use, the Captain came in and peremptorily ordered the trio who had assembled to pay their respects, to vacate the premises. Obediently as dogs they hitched up the little ponies, and trotted off, camping, as we could see by the smoke that so gracefully curled, beyond a fairy islet, behind which the sun was making his brilliant exit.

Wood on this part of the way was very scarce, being of the market value of bacon, twenty-five cents per pound.

One day the Captain bought some, commanding his trusty Squire Joe, the Dutchman, to take it in charge. Joe looked at the little wee bit of wood, which was by no means an armful or even a handful for him, and true to his instincts he thought of the dollar invested; so he made a desparate effort to get his money's worth. The keen eyes of the landlady were not to be evaded, however. She openly accused Joe of theft. "He is not a thief; he's a Dutchman," says the Captain.

"More thief than Dutch," was the sharp retort. But even while the captain was defending Joe, he made another desperate effort to appropriate more than his share of the wood.

The orders Joe now received were peremptory. Nevertheless as I was about to retire that night, I discovered Joe lugging a weight of wood, even he seemed to feel, and stowing it away beside his couch. "What," said I, "Joe, taking wood to bed with you?"

Joe muttered, "By gracious," coupled with some fader-land phrases beyond my comprehension.

"Well," exclaimed I, "Joe, that is about the most striking exemplification of the truth of the proverb, set a rogue to catch (or anticipate) a rogue, I ever observed."

{centered} CHAPTER XII. {CENTERED} THE WATER-SPOUT.

ONE Saturday evening, just after pitching our tents upon the side of a hill, Jamie interrupted "the Peri" and myself, who were discussing the merits of a new recipe for ginger cakes, by exclaiming, "Come, ladies, and see a sight I have never beheld any where but at sea." Awhile we gazed in silent awe and admiration--"Saw you ever such clouds, and that trumpet-like water-spout draining the mad mountain torrent? It is sublime. It is as the voice of Deity," I said.

"See! see!" cried Mrs. Ellis, "winged messengers of Jove, flying through the air singing weird songs, and brandishing their torches. Saturn is there, seated in his car drawn by unicorns, and filled with the flames of omnipotent wrath. Neptune is riding his dolphin and dripping with spray; even little Robin Goodfellow sits upon a toad-stool, a sea-shell upon his head and a lizzard within his dimpled hands. Calliope, Urania, Euterpe, Terpsichore--all, all the tuneful nine are there, piping and dancing and singing and sketching the scenes enacted at the storm-god's festival."

Almost in agony I groaned, "O Nature, why hast thou given me the soul of a poet and yet left me the poor miserable little dumb creature that I am?" Then a voice came floating over the waves of memory, saying, "Deep calleth unto deep, at the noise of thy water-spouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me. Yet the Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me." This was the answer remembrance brought to my unuttered inquiry, "Will it be hurled upon our heads?" Next day Clyde returned to Julesburg in search of missing mules: then he learned that the bottom of the Platte had been drained by the water spout, that wagon sheets and tents had been torn into shreds, that a man and some mules had been killed, two other poor emigrants lost their wives, (wagons and provisions), drowned by the sudden rise in the creek, upon the dry bed of which they had encamped. Subsequently we heard confirmation of some of these melancholy casualties.

When we asked Clyde if the waters of the Platte stood upon either side as those of the Red Sea, he curtly replied that we were more inquisitive than he.

{centered} CHAPTER XIII. {CENTERED} MASCULINE CONCEIT.--THE CURE THEREOF.

IN truth, about this time we began to find that the gentlemen of our mess were entirely too attractive for their own moral welfare. We scarcely sat down to a meal that some delicacy was not sent with the compliments of Miss or Madam, for the invalid or the Captain. Now instead of all these little attentions rendering them all the more submissive and agreeable, they only served to render them unbearably conceited. In vain we reminded them that there always seemed a provident oversight as to the number at the board.

The compliment was theirs and they were inclined to make the most of it. In a fit of desperation, I remember one day fairly bribing a gentleman to send me a present of some game. Once I got out some of those sweet little effusions which poured in upon me as I was leaving home, and like a child displayed the most dulcet portions.

It was no use. There is but one way under the sun of taking down such an amount of conceit as is capable of being stowed away in a masculine mind. But, ladies, the mills of the gods grind slowly; we had to wait until we got to Austin, the place of aromatic shrubs and bright shining bricks, and where handsome and gallant gentlemen do congregate.

If we failed to give them dessert one day they vowed they had never seen a dessert since they left St. Jo. If we reminded them of such or such plum pudding, or hot cake, with butter sauce and brandy in it, and how they always called for the brandy bottle, complaining that we did not season our sauces sufficiently, they pretended to ransack their memories in vain. Mr. Armat, upon occasions, was exceedingly caustic in his remarks upon the ladies; held them responsible, from mother Eve down, for all the trouble in the world. "Allow me, Mrs. Hallet," said he to the Sultana, "to reproduce a short sermon, which exemplifies the weight of responsibility which rests upon the shoulders of you ladies. The text was this--I may not quote correctly, but your mind will readily supply any omissions: 'And with one accord they all began to make excuses. One said, I have bought a piece of land and must go and see it. And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen and must go to prove them; I pray you have me excused. Another, I have married a wife and cannot come.' And I tell you, my hearers," said the preacher, closing his book and looking earnestly at his brethren, "One woman can draw a man farther from the kingdom of heaven than ten yoke of oxen."

Notwithstanding Mr. Armat's light way of talking, there was in his manner toward ladies that respectful deference which is the most subtle flattery. There was also a certain gentlemanly reticence about him which never fails to interest, as it involves a little mystery. His good looks went a great ways too.

When I beheld Mrs. Hallet, charming with her radiance every man, woman and child in the train, I thought what a glorious birthright is beauty, winning without effort, and giving its possessor credit for every good and noble quality.

A woman myself, I feel the power of beauty in other women. I do not marvel that Thackeray should say: "Woe be unto men if women and wild beasts knew their power over them!"

One day Mrs. Hallet caught "Brooks" earnestly and energetically engaged in polishing his teeth. "Why, Brooks, what a good boy you are to be so careful of your teeth on such a long, troublesome voyage as this; one would suppose a little fellow like you would forget the duties of his toilet. You are sure to make a gentleman, Brooks," and she made him display his dentals. "They are white as two rows of pearls, Brooks." Then, with those full, rosy lips of hers, she kissed him. Ever after that you should have seen Brooks burnishing his grinders. From what untold horrors may not that kiss and compliment save Brooks! I dare say the hinges upon which destiny turns are little things.

Certainly "little things" make up the essence of the compound we call human happiness or misery.

{CENTERED} CHAPTER XIV. {CENTERED} DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES.

I WOULD not be a woman (and I have no desire to be anything but that which the Good Father, who knows better than I do what object he had in my creation, though I suspect that, bereft of my weakness, I should be as Samson shorn of my locks) were I to fail to narrate our domestic difficulties.

When we met Mrs. Balkey in the streets of Nebraska city, she had her character in her hands. Would that she had been in the condition of those ladies who attended a masquerade in ordinary evening toilet, and were astounded by hearing the artless usher announce them as "Mrs. So and So, without any characters." The morning before we reached Fort Kearney, some one sent Mr. Armat a nice little mess of fish.

I arose early, knowing that Mrs. Balkey's incompetency was scarcely less than Jamie's. Already the fish were on the fire, however, and in a suspicious looking tin plate, with a spoonfull of water and a piece of butter embroidered with molasses.

"Is that the way you cook fish, Mrs. Balkey?" I asked with all the suavity I could command.

"Yes!" she curtly replied, giving me a stinging look out of that basilisk eye of hers.

"Please take them off and put some lard in the frying-pan, and when it is hot put in the fish."

She stood perfectly still, looking fixedly at me, puffing away at her stump of a pipe, with arms akimbo.

Her dress upon this occasion consisted of a cotton velvet basque, with what had been bugle trimming. At this time, however, there remained but a solitary bachelor or maid of a bead, each eyeing the other askance, and seeming to say, "Why can't you come up closer and be sociable?" but never moving, owing to insurmountable difficulties. Her skirt was a Balmoral, striped in ambitious imitation of the rainbow; and her bonnet a very small Shaker, trimmed with black lace, and with such a peculiar curtain as to remind one when she moved about of the tail of a terrier.

I saw by the expression of her face that she had no idea of attending to my request, so I whisked the fish off the fire in a jiffy, crying, "Come out of here, you dear little swimmers: you came into the world swimming, and I am determined you shall go out of it swimming."

When the lard began to hiss, I returned them to the pan, and sure enough they sissed and sputtered until they were done for. Meanwhile the old lady stood leisurely whiffing away at her pipe. Finally she took it out of her mouth, coolly remarking, "There's a deal o' ways of cooking, to be sure."

"Aspacially if ye're after spalling it, d-e-i-l," slyly put in Jamie, who rather liked the entertainment.

I saw that trouble was brewing, but I little suspected the quarter whence it came. The vexed question of caste was agitating the train, and this was but the prelude to the gathering storm.

Seeing that breakfast was ready, I asked her to set the table. She had already partly done so, though I was not aware of it. She turned upon me sharply, saying, "You treat me as if I was an inferior."

"Will you be so good as to define your status, Mrs. Balkey?" I asked.

"I am as good as you are," she emphatically rejoined, "if you have been used to your lady's maid," then she went on ad infinitum, ad libitum, with a queer mixture of gossip and invective.

She was a servant and as old as my mother. It was beneath my dignity to retort; there were plenty of spectators to witness this little play. At first Mr. Armat looked as though he would like to bet on the fight as it progressed. However, amusement, amazement and indignation struggled for the mastery. When it would have ended I can not say, had not the Captain put down his foot, saying angrily, "Mrs. Balkey, if you are ever guilty of such disrespect to the ladies of my family again, I'll leave you on these plains." In a moment she was as mute as a mouse.

After this I did not speak to her for several days; when I did, however, I found her decidedly penitent, even obedient.

{centered} CHAPTER XV. {CENTERED} ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

NOTWITHSTANDING our domestic troubles, we found time to assemble every day at some tent and speculate upon the future. During our long morning walks, we also chatted hopefully of the El Dorado. In a country in which the hill-sides were the impersonation of Bacchus crowned and drunken, where roses bloomed, and strawberries ripened all the year round; in which if there were any human beings struggling with grim want and gaunt hunger, they were such as we never heard of,--what could we expect but that fortune would meet us on the threshold, take us by the hand and bid us a smiling welcome? Did we ot hear repeatedly from the oracular pioneers in the train, that on this western coast of the world, the air was so exhilarating as to impart to the cheek and eye a brilliancy, and to the step an elasticity which caused the ladies to rival Helen of Troy?

And as to the gentlemen, was not every one not only an Adonis, but must not King Crœsus have been a pauper to him? In California husbands staid at home and nursed their wives and babies, and were not running all over the face of the earth as husbands at home had been compelled to do since the war began. There every one is rich and happy. While we were thus hopefully descanting upon the future on a peculiarly bright and beautiful day, the superintendent rode up to the ambulance, calling out: "Ladies, do you see those clouds over against the horizon?"

"They are indeed beautiful," we replied.

"Well, that's the Snowy Range; they are over a hundred miles distant."

We got out our glass, and were confident his words were true.

Three days thereafter, I sat on the front seat of the ambulance, gazing in speechless admiration upon the glittering, cloud-like, tangible, intangible, silvery, sheeny summits of the Rocky Mountains, with their dark, fir-colored shadows relieved anon by a bronzed giant lifting his head in scarcely less majesty than his bejeweled brothers. Nor do I believe that earth displays another scene which can impress me as that first view of the Snowy Range. Directly in front of us Long's Peak, supported on either side by a minister of state, displayed his gloriously brilliant coronet. To the left, the more celebrated Pike's Peak was distinctly to be seen. As I gazed on the shrine upon which the brightest gems of so many human hearts had been offered up, I thought, Oh, wonderful thou art, old Peak of Pike! But what to me are the golden treasures at thy feet to the silvery beauty which sits enthroned upon thy summit?

{centered} CHAPTER XVI. {CENTERED} THE WAR OF CASTES AGAIN.

I SHALL never forget the same hills between Julesburg and Latham. The sand was so deep that you would take a step forward, clinch it and prepare for another, or run the risk of an involuntary slide in the contrary direction. The ladies, who had by this time become famous pedestrians, invariably got out of our carriages and walked up the steep hill-sides in sheer humanity to our poor struggling, over-burdened mules.

I recollect our stopping to water the animals one day, just after passing through and being heavily taxed at a toll-gate, a sure sign of impassable roads. While the mules were drinking, we ladies formed a party and gaily trudged up the sand hill. Now there was a family in the train to whom the Captain had furnished transportation in consideration of the affection he bore them. The gentleman, a minister, had a black-eyed wife and two babies. This wagon was so heavily laden that some of the Captain's finest mules had been hors du combat for several weeks. Seeing that neither the wife nor the cook had any intention of giving themselves any extra exertion on this occasion, the Captain requested the head of the family to order his cook to resign her seat beside the driver, and take it afoot, as his (the Captain's) wife and the other ladies were doing up the precipitous hill-sides. The Captain then joined his own party, thinking no more of the matter. Now, what does John the driver do, but draw himself up in all his Jehuian dignity, and avow that that was no place for a lady to walk, and if there was any walking to do, he was prepared to do it himself. By this time the train was in motion, only a few of the extra serving men remaining to watch the combat. The war of caste now blazed out brilliant as a flame that has gathered strength by being smothered. Driven to desperation, the minister ordered his cook to take her luggage and go to a neighboring ranche, throwing out a carpet-sack as he did so.

Jehu took up a stick and ordered the gentleman to return the luggage to its proper place within the wagon. The cook brandished a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, threatening to cut his throat with them. The minister pulled down his rifle. Jehu drew a pistol. The black-eyed wife (always in the situation of Olive Newcomb's Rosa), caught her liege by the tails of his coat and swooned. That good Christian gentleman who, every night and morning, on all the long journey, assembled his little family around him within his tent, and, like Abraham of old, offered up prayer and praise to the good God who had guarded us through so many dangers, caught the clergyman by the arm and reminded him of his high vocation.

Jehu stood over him with drawn stick and pistol. The black-eyed wife was in spasms. The gentleman entreated; the minister restored the luggage, and the varlets gained the day.

The pair were left at the ranche, however. The driver became deeply penitent. The cook took the coach for Denver.

{centered} CHAPTER XVII. {CENTERED} OUR FEARS REALIZED.

AT Latham we were invited to dine out, or in rather. In fact it seemed almost as strange to be sitting at table within the four walls of a house as though we had been born gipsies.

When the door was closed, I could scarcely get my breath. Mentally I ran over the whole code of table etiquette lest I should be guilty of some unpardonable breach of manners. However, we enjoyed our return to civilized society and its conventionalities exceedingly, congratulating each other upon getting through without a faux pas. But that night the most direful calamity that could have befallen us transpired.

About daylight a herdsman came in hot haste to tell us that our invaluable mules had every one stamped. The bell mare was gone. There was not even a saddle-horse upon which to hunt them. Speculation was rife. Those wily thieves, the Cheyennes, had crept into the herd, thrown up a red blanket, or used some other means to frighten them. The herdsmen were reprimanded for neglecting to picket the bell mare. They averred that the poor old creature would starve to death, being forever picketing.

One of them, jesting in the midst of our calamities, declared she had enough on her mind, with a family of one hundred and fifty forever following her, to send any ordinary piece of horseflesh to a lunatic asylum. It was too much for his humanity to see her forever picketed, so that she could only graze to her rope's end. Mr. Armat, between whom and myself there was a standing controversy as to the superiority of our mules, advised me to walk during the day and ride Jessie Fremont at night--truly a feasible plan, seeing that Jessie, too, was in the hands of the Cheyennes. The extreme gravity of some of the woe-be-gone faces around us effected a revulsion of feeling upon the part of others. It was an anxious, critical moment to each and all, however.

The scenery is magnificent; the overland stage station kept by a perfect gentleman; we are only forty miles from Denver; so we gossiped.

The man on the lookout with the glass, suddenly descries a cloud of dust. A thousand eager inquiries are made. "I only see a cloud of dust," he impatiently answers. "Now a horseman--a greater cloud of dust. It is the herd. The ranche-man and some Cheyennes, five miles back, caught the bell-mare and penned her affectionate family, charging us only a dollar per head."

There were probably five hundred persons waiting at this point to cross the Platte. We had to bide our time. Next night we made a carall of our fifty wagons and seven ambulances, with only a small entrance, which was to be guarded.

That night there was such an incessant chewing upon the cover of my sleeping wagon, that I could not rest.

Next night a gentleman, who frequently overhauled us, concluded to camp with us. The animals were all again carelled. At an unusual hour, Madame la Visiteur lights a lamp and flashes it around.

Ye gods! has a waterspout burst upon our devoted heads? Or has an avalanche from the snowy range, in full view, slid down upon us? No! It is the hundred and fifty frightened, frantic, furious beasts, rushing over each other and the sentry.

Thank Heaven, the bell-mare is picketed this time. About noonday we recovered them, crossed the Platte in a flat-boat, paying our money and working our passage, and returning our thanks.

The Captain's family were the last to cross; the train being three days in getting over. We had a social time with our neighbors.

The history of the interesting family at the ranche would have furnished a theme for the novelist. A neighboring emigrant lady came to see us dressed up. The dust at this place was bottomless, so to speak. Our visitor wore slippers, open-work stockings, a skirt with English embroidery six inches in depth, a blue silk dress and a lace collar. I left Madame la Captain to do the honors, merely opining that she might have been mistaken for a lady, if she had come in ordinary overland costume.

Mrs. Balkey gave unmistakable evidence of derangement. There was method in her manners, I must admit, as she invariably dressed herself in her flashiest attire, tied on her bonnet with two vails, and drew on her brown kids whenever she got in a tantrum, or to adopt more classic parlance, on the rampage. We paid her passage to Denver, and concluded to be our own domestics.

Our mules were, however, too much demoralized to admit of our traveling with so many in one company. We separated, and by this means secured a male cook; one who had been ship's cook in the Paraguay Expedition under Judge Bowlin.

{centered} CHAPTER XVIII. {CENTERED} UP THE MOUNTAINS.--A BITTER CREEK.

THE ever-varying panorama which was now opened to our view, repaid us for all the monotony of the plains along the Platte. Am I a child again, or has this intimate association with nature in her changing modes and tenses, brought back the bright smiles of Hygeia, which have deluded me into this self-inquiry?

Upon reaching La Porte, the station at the foot of the mountains, we found the whole earth glittering with shining particles of what we novices supposed to be gold and silver; really, it is mica. When attached to red, it assumes the appearance of gold; when to white, it resembles silver.

The Captain is sick from unusual exertion in getting the train across the Platte. The doctor advises us to lay over a day. Here we escaped trouble singularly enough. A woman of the east, and in sympathy with Mrs. Balkey, and Jehu, gave herself extra exertion to inform some soldiers, encamped in the neighborhood, that we were a set of "red hot rebels" accustomed to have "niggers" wait on us, and expecting white folks to do the same. The soldiers smiled, inquiring for the captain of the train; some of them declaring that he should be lynched and ducked in the Cache le Pondu. When they beheld him, however, they trotted off, saying he was not the man. The woman who gave information, supposed we would assuredly meet with our deserts, and was in high feather. Upon inquiry, however, it appears that these men were searching for a captain who had insulted some of their number at the Platte crossing; and were, in fact, rebel soldiers, who preferred guarding the border against Indian depredations, to imprisonment at Johnson's Island. In truth, they were said to be John Morgan's men; if so, the tables might have been turned, and a gallows erected for our feminine Hamaan.

Will I ever again taste such water as the melted snow of the sparkling Cache le Pondu, as it goes leaping down the mountain side and laving its base? And those blue bells, those purple ipomias, those lilies, looking like china cups, floating over the tall, undulating green grass! the purple larkspur, and the mountain tulip, shall I ever see your like again, ye peerless, uncultured beauties?

Taking advantage of the day's delay, we form a party to ascend the mountains. Mr. Armat declares his mule can climb any crag or precipice a woman can ascend. So he starts off laden with the shawls. We toil up peak after peak with ever a loftier peak in view. Our breathing becomes difficult. Looking down upon the camp, we behold Mr. Armat's mule galloping riderless toward the herd. We are very much alarmed for him. Has his strength failed him? However, we know assistance will be sent to him from camp, so we resolve to continue our journey. At length Lilian sinks down from exhaustion, resting her head upon the lap of the affectionate Sultana. Rosa goes to sleep. Mr. Armat, (incredible to relate), has joined us. It is not so cold as we expected, but oh, the view! monument rocks, the crowning glory of a range of mountains themselves, are at our feet. Around us the numberless cones of the fir-covered Black Butes. In the back ground the Snowy Range kissing the clouds, are seeming a part of them. The coach route, at our feet, resembles a ribbon streamer tossed by the breeze up and down the canon. While the meandering Cache le Pondu, like "an airy, fairy, flitting fairy," shows its laughing face now and then from the tall waving grass which fringes the hills with their feet planted upon the plain, which is embraced by the horizon. All about us are immense piles of fantastic rocks, brilliant with gold and silver. What would not such a mass of rainbow-colored bespangled rocks be worth in Central Park? Flora too, has come from the valley, scattering her treasures up the mountain-side, and over its summit. Oh! how unsearchable, and how good is the great God! Here, as elsewhere, when I behold nature in her grand and solemn moods, language deserts me: beautiful passages from the sublime imagery of the Bible, alone, floating most unsatisfactorily, owing to my own ignorance, through my mind.

Mr. Jefferson says it would repay one for a visit from Europe to behold Harper's Ferry. If so, it must be worth a journey from the remotest island in all the seas to see Virginia Dale. Oh! the wondrous beauty of those castellated rocks! mosques, towers, temples, pagodas, castles, all ornamented with the picturesque pines, relieved by patches of brilliant flowers, moss, and grass. Then the laughing streamlets, as they go leaping over the rocks, and hiding amid the verdure. There are huge boulders rivaling the gymnast in maintaining their position upon smaller piles. Anon, the rocks seem to have been dashed by some mountain torrent down the declivity, and petrified in the descent.

At Bridge's Pass, the dividing ridge, on the ninth day of July, we drank snow juleps. Here we met a party of engineers: from them we learned that we were nine thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. The atmosphere was so clear that we sat out for a quarter-mile walk to the snow, but we found it three miles. Literally gathering snow with one hand, and red, red roses, pale spring beauties, and wild mint with the other. Our juleps, it is true, would have been much less painful taken scalding hot, but then it is not every ninth of July, one can have snow juleps.

After this we entered upon the desert route along Bitter Creek. The earth and air looked blue and lurid. Masks were brought into requisition; even the teamsters improvised them with pocket handkerchiefs and corners of quilts.

On all sides there were beds of alkali as white and as smooth as plaster. Jamie made bread with it--preferred it to saleratus. We had to eat our food well-peppered with dust. Boreas came very near taking our tent sky-larking. Clyde said, if all this was the result of volcanic action--pointing to our surroundings--it came form pretty deep down, in his opinion.

One day Mr. Armat, who had frequently remarked that he meant to take a bridal trip across the plains, so as to have her properly broken in before settling down in earnest, concluded to abandon the idea, as his fair young bride might be guilty of profanity. The dust was so deep and the water (sulphurous alkaline and chalybeate), so intolerable, it was a hard struggle for human nature to hide the other side of the tapestry. Finally, when we got to Green River, (head waters of the Rio Colorado), the mules fairly quivered with delight.

I sprang out of the ambulance, and began dipping up water and pouring it out, just for the pleasure of wasting it. Never did a woman spend money in the brilliant shops of the city, with half so much delight. We now encamped nightly upon streams that were tributary to the Pacific, which made us feel as though we were indeed leaving home behind us.

{centered} CHAPTER XIX. {CENTERED} SALT LAKE CITY.

WE examined the fortifications at Fort Bridget, with great interest, from the fact that they were planned by Gen. Albert Sydney Johnson, a man who (whether we view him politically as saint or sinner,) certainly died as the hero of heroes, the most sublime of human deaths. At this place we began making anxious inquiries respecting Salt Lake City. Some told us that the President-- as he is styled--was not only a great, but a good man.

One said, "If a Mormon owes a Gentile, and refuses to pay him, Brigham himself assumes the debt." We heard no little of his extraordinary administrative abilities.

At a blacksmith shop, the gentlemen propounded the following problem: "How is it these Mormons continue to manage so many wives, when a Gentile finds one more than a match for him?"

The knight of the forge looked up earnestly, replying: "Oh, them Mormons, they larrups the--the--tantrums out of their wives like all natur!"

The gentlemen laughed, and proposed to adopt the Mormon plan.

The entrance to the Valley of the Saints is wild and picturesque beyond conception. Echo Canon, is a narrow pass between two immense ledges of yellowish red rock towering to the clouds. The cracking of the driver's whip, the song of a bird, reverberates again and again. In the dim distance upon the summit, rude Mormon fortifications add to the romance of the scene. We emerge from this canon to behold the abodes of civilized man, and to drive through long lanes. Novel institutions to such Nomads. We enter another canon; as we descend this, the squares of Great Salt Lake City are as distinctly visible as those of a chequer-board. From its romantic beauty I am not surprised that the saints should be so ready to fall in with the idea of its being the New Jerusalem. Environed on all sides by mountains of such altitude that the snow was still lingering upon them in August, awakening even in the heart of a Gentile associations of sublimity and beauty rarely equalled,--I marvel not that those who, for the first time in their lives here find a home, should with willing faith receive even the curious doctrines of this modern prophet as of divine origin. Every "saint" has a garden and wheat field of one or two acres attached to his house, with a stream of clear water running along the gutters (which are nicely paved,) for purposes of irrigation. In the distance, on the California route, the lake, brilliant as the surface of a mirror in the sunlight, and apparently bearing a mountain upon its bosom, lights up the landscape.

We heard some interesting stories of this mountain which rises from the centre of the lake, and which the President uses as a pasture for his horses, some of which are of the wooly tribe. They told us also of strange animals, not classified in any of the natural histories with which I am familiar, as inhabiting this island and the surrounding mountains. Reader, saw you ever a painting or a statue representing "Incredulity?" Well, if it was not a male, then the artist had not studied nature, that's all.

I loved to talk to these zealous, enthusiastic Mormons, and to half-way believe their wonderful stories, which lent some little romance to their horribly unpoetic lives; but the gentlemen of our party invariably shook their heads, allowing us to indulge no fantasies, however innocent.

{centered} CHAPTER XX. {CENTERED} VISITING THE PALACE

NO sooner had we stationed ourselves upon Emigration Square, than I attired myself in a new traveling dress, brilliant with steel buttons, and sallied out to see the sights, never once thinking of asking any one to accompany me. Of a little boy, whom his companions denominated "Brig," I inquired which was the President's house.

"That's the Lion House, that," says he, "and over yonder is the Bee-Hive; that's the Theatre with the eagle over the gate."

I strolled along in the direction of the Lion House: over the door-way, sure enough, the king of beasts sculptured in marble stood sentinel. There was a porter's lodge, and of the dignitary who presided, I inquired whether Gentile ladies ever visited the President's family.

"Not without a great deal of ceremony," he answered.

At another time I should have been intimidated! However, I said: "Will you give one of the President's wives my card; I shall leave the city to-morrow, and would like to see the interesting family of the President."

The porter looked at the card, and then at me. "Come into the office and take a seat while I deliver your card."

"Are there gentlemen in the office?" I asked.

"Yes, Mr. ----, one of the twelve, is in there!"

"Oh! oh!! oh!!!" I exclaimed, starting to run.

Just then a pleasant looking girl came out, saying to me with a smile, "Come in, do come in. Sister Caroline, this lady wishes to see you."

Sister Caroline--they invariably sister each other--conducted me into a room which looked truly luxurious to a dweller in tents, and treated me very kindly indeed.

I was, of course, too well bred to ask questions, though I managed to learn much that I wished to know. Sister Caroline had a cheerful countenance, and treated me in a very lady-like manner. She soon sent to the garden for a basket of apricots; insisted that I should eat them all, and then loaded me with all the fruit my hands and pockets were capable of carrying. There were about twenty of my species collected in the room; they insisted that I should attend the theatre, and gave me many warnings in case I ventured to bathe in the lake. "There is no danger whatever of drowning," said they; "but unless you are very careful in selecting a bathing-place near, but not too near, the mouth of the river, the vitriol will cause your skin to bleed." "In fact," said one, "my feet bled and pained me severely when I first attempted to bathe in the lake." They assured me, however, that I would find it very difficult to keep my feet under me from the buoyancy of the water.

I was amused at this experiment. Was it the natural kindness of the feminine heart, which prompted this polite reception, or was it my new traveling-dress and otherwise stylish appearance which won their respect, are questions which will never be settled to my entire satisfaction.

Thus encouraged, I visited several quite aristocratic looking mansions.

My surprise upon returning to camp to find some of the habitues of a certain fashion, with whom I was familiar, and to whom I was called upon to relate my adventures, can scarcely be imagined.

"So you went to Brigham's mansion! Visitors are not received without the strictest ceremony. Did you see any gentlemen?"

These questions were addressed in such peculiarly quizical fashion, that I felt the blushes mounting to my cheeks, and wondered if they could be seen by moonlight. However, I passed round the point and braved it out as best I could.

Finally, I confess I grew rather desperate at some of the queries, and answered--struggling with the blushes--that I had been used to governors' houses myself, and knew that people in high places, if they happened to be well-bred, were the most accessible people in the world. The hardest trials I had to bear, however, were the reproaches of Mrs. Hallet and my lady friends, because I had not invited them to accompany me, as though it had been a premeditated thing, this adventure of mine. Even Clyde had to say, with all a younger brother's impertinence, "And where will you be poking your nose next?"

{centered} CHAPTER XXI. {CENTERED} RINGING THE BELL.

DESPITE the importunities of our lady friends, who presented in glowing colors the charms of the Gentile society, especially that about Camp Douglas, Lilian and myself determined upon going to the country. After spending but a day in the city, we concluded that all women who prated of their rights, and their spheres, and their fates, ought to be paroled to Utah. At first I felt much delicacy, stammering and blushing, and hesitating about asking a woman if her husband had more than one wife, but finding that they evinced no sensibility, I got bravely over my verdancy. It was truly amusing to hear them style themselves saints as familiarly as we would call ourselves sinners. At the tabernacle, Mrs. Hallet asked an old lady the name of an individual who attracted her attention.

"Whar, child," she indignantly answered, "has you ben raised not to know President Young, the greatest man living!"

All the drivers were ingloriously drunk; nevertheless, the minister's lady, Lilian and myself, turned our backs upon the gay capital of the Wilderness, seeking refuge in a lonely canon, deep down amid mountains of such position and such altitude that the stars seemed millions upon millions of miles away. For the first time in my life I realized their true distance from us. Every one else, however, appeared to be infatuated with the beautiful city. Some of our emigrant neighbors even sent their mules out with ours, shirking all care. This gave us trouble, so we advised them, if they intended pursuing their journey, to send for them, as we would not be responsible for losses and accidents. When they did send, we had an interesting time separating them. Mules, like human beings, sometimes form very sudden and very warm attachments. It was almost impossible for us to keep even a small guard around camp, as the woods were literally full of delicious service berries and raspberries.

As I was busily engaged in the performance of some of my domestic duties, I heard an unusual commotion, and, looking up the mountain side, I beheld Clyde dodging in and out among the bushes, screaming vociferously, "Hallo, there, McCarty's Bee! whoa! Black Bess! Commodore! Pomp! Paxton! Confound the mules! Ring that bell, there, some of you!"

"What bell?" I inquired.

"The bell-mare's bell, you goosey; been traveling twelve hundred miles to the tune of that bell, and ask me 'what bell?'"

I sprang up, seeing there was no one in camp but Mrs. F., Lilian and myself, and catching the old mare by the neck, began jingling the bell furiously. And there I stood for a mortal half hour clanking that old copper bell. Upon the least abatement of the sound, the herds would rush back to each other; but so long as our mules could hear our bell, they kept up a steady line of march towards camp. So in time the bell-mare and myself had the intense satisfaction of being surrounded by our entire four-footed family. Meantime Mrs. F. and Lilian sat in the ambulance laughing at me. Upon my being released, and approaching them, Mrs. F. said: "Is that the invalid lady I behold? the nervous lady--the lady I saw last winter brilliant in jewels and satin sheen?"

"Yes, madam," I gravely replied, "I hope I may be pardoned for saying I have played the belle upon many occasions--seldom, however, to better advantage than upon the present."

One evening in my rambles through these woods, I heard an old Mormon woman calling "Lizzie! Lizzie!" She was somewhat startled by my sudden appearance, but addressed me in a peculiarly sweet voice, with a Welsh accent.

"You are anxious about your daughter; there she is," said I, pointing up the mountain.

"She is not my daughter; she is a poor girl I have raised. Whenever we go after the kews, Lizzie will room aboot through the booshes. Now I am not a bit offraid to go in the booshes meself, but I don't like for Lizzie to get out of sight."

"Is there danger?" I inquired.

"Oh, yes! there are wolves and grizzly bears in these woods; I am not offraid of them meself; they are jist as apt to run from me as I am from them; but then I can't help feeling uneasy when Lizzie goes. You need not be so much offraid of the bears, for they seldom come down the mountain for water at any time but just about daylight." Every now and then the old lady would dart into the bushes, calling "Pinkey! Cherry! Patty! Broonie!" in very winning tones. In fact, the cows seemed to know and appreciate them as the spontaneous music of a good heart. Lizzie and I meanwhile gathered berries and talked. Lizzie said the young people formed parties in the fall when the waters of the lake subsided, and went salting. All they had to do to provide salt for the year was to throw the native salt, as deposited around the borders of the lake, into wagon-beds, with shovels; then allow it to drain, and when they wished to prepare it for table use, grind it in a coffee-mill. When the old lady joined us we walked down the pathway after the cows.

"Do you believe in polygamy?" I asked of the old lady.

"In the days that the chosen of the Lord were on earth before, the men had many wives; that was before the coming of our Saviour," she said. "He is coming again, and his chosen are commanded to take as many as they like. Brigham, they say, has ninety wives, and he'll take a great many more."

I had learned that day from a gentleman who came from the city, that he had seen eighty of Brigham's little girls on their way to school; and that Heber Kimball, who suffers from obliquity of vision, boasted of seventy little cross-eyed masculine certificates of the fidelity of his spouses.

"Lizzie," said I, "when you get married, do you think you would be happy if your husband took another wife?"

"No," she rejoined with the most charming naiveté. "I would rather have me mon all to meself!"

{centered} CHAPTER XXII. {CENTERED} LETTER FROM LILIAN. {right justified} "DELL DELIGHT, August 1st. "DEAR MRS. HALLET:

We are encamped beside the most delightful spring, and amid the most charming scenery we have seen in all our travels. Mrs. F., Archie and myself, have a sylvan parlor erected by Clyde and William Q. almost over this spring, from which we drink perpetually, never feeling satiated.

We have improved so greatly in appearance since we have been here, that we have called it the Fountain of Beauty. So you need not be surprised if we return to you endowed with that coveted boon, perfect feminine loveliness. We have also some soldier beaux (whether the spring or ourselves is the attraction, we cannot say). They are common soldiers, but not by any means common men--who supply us with British periodical literature, and relate interesting legends of the mountains by which we are surrounded; that Pluto, in person, came down these mountains a few years since, they say, is firmly believed by the Saints. Yesterday we were visited by some Indians who are in the habit of camping beside the spring. They came at once to beg us for meat. We offered them fresh mutton. 'No! no!'said they, 'wano sqauw, give piggy meat.' As the heads of the train were in the city, we felt no little alarm lest they should commit some depredations when night came on.

The ladies were talking of doubling the guard. To our great relief, however, just at twilight they packed their ponies and departed, saying there would be a storm that night. To this we paid very little attention, as there were no indications of it to our perceptions upon the face of nature. About nine o'clock, however, the winds in the mountains about us, raved and shrieked, and moaned, and lashed each other, like giants drunk with blood, and rushing upon each other in mortal combat. We were encamped upon a little island; there were rivulets on either side of us; in a storm, however, they might prove to be mountain torrents. The fate of our fellow wayfarers who perished by the water-spout, occurred to us. The rivulets now began to assert their consequence, rushing and raging furiously. I put my head out of my dormitory window, crying, 'Jamie! Jamie! the torrent is taking off the tin pan.' Jamie was just in time to rescue it. From this moment I scarcely thought of danger, so fascinated was I by the wild, varied character of the scene.

'Jamie,' I whispered, (fearful it would hear me, and vanish), 'there is a ghost.'

'Sure, mim, an' it looks like one,' he replied, advancing. I almost regretted when he dispelled the illusion by telling me it was young Burchell, in his night-clothes, looking up the tin pans. Never, never, shall I forget that night, for never do I expect again to hear any sound so weird and unearthly as the raging of those winds and the pelting of that storm.

Next morning, however, the face of nature was bright and beautiful as ever, little being left of the storm, but its memory.

Apropos, among the attractions of the place, I must not omit to mention a witch, a genuine counterpart of Bulwer's witch of the Alps. Three times, daily, she may be seen bending over a seething cauldron, muttering her incantations.

Yesterday I distinctly heard her say:--

{poem} 'Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble; Fat of ham, and tongue of ox, Brooks, bring on the pepper-box; Root of tater, digg'd in dew, In the cauldron boil and stew;

Her verses, it is true, are rude and barbarous. However, she appears a beneficent sort of a being; for those who partake of the contents of her cauldron, go away with a pleasant expression of countenance, and are ever ready to partake again. Of late she has adopted a pleasant costume: Balmoral and sacque, with bonnet of brown. She is, of course, endowed with the gift of prophecy, and desires greatly to see Rose, Julia and Virgie, that she may uplift the vail which hides the future from their view, and disclose the handsome lovers standing with arms full of gold upon the Pacific strand awaiting their arrival.

In the hope, dear Mrs. Hallet, of soon welcoming you to Dell Delight, I am as ever,

{centered} Your attached friend, {right justified} LILIAN DE LAUREAL." {centered} MRS. HALLET'S REPLY. "DEAR LILIAN:

Your delightfully characteristic letter afforded us much amusement. We exhibited it to our gentlemen friends, who have arleady formed the idea that you were an odd and an interesting compound; you may judge by this of the reputation we have given you. Come to us at once; depend upon it you have lost more than you have gained by remaining in the country. We have no Fountain of Beauty, though we have delightful, warm sulphur-baths, which have bleached our complexions genuine lily white. Mrs. Ellis is especially benefited by them; your soldier beaux are not to be compared with our gentlemen friends--Gentiles doing business temporarily in the city. Do come at once; they are so anxious to see you. We have attended the theatre twice; they have a very passable Hamlet; six of the President's daughters appeared in character on the stage among the stock actors; Brigham himself and his newest wife, the reigning favorite, were in his box. This lady, it is said, was betrothed to a young Mormon, to whom she was much attached, when the Prophet in his rounds met her, fell desperately in love with her, and sent her lover on a foreign mission, appropriating his bride to himself. She threatens to kill her liege the Prophet, and behaves very unsaintly. The theatre compares very favorably with the Louisville and St. Louis theatres; it is always crowded to repletion; must be quite a source of revenue to the head of the church.

There are other urgent reasons for your coming; the dreary prospect of being separated from you is before us. The captain and the gentlemen of our family not agreeing as to the routes before us, we are compelled to adhere to the overland-mail route while the Captain thinks the Humboldt more favorable to the health of you ladies--and the mules; wood, grass and water, being more, and alkali less abundant. Our road is, however, about three hundred miles nearer: so you see it will be impossible for us to visit Dell Delight. We hear that your cooks have all deserted, turning their attention to silver mining; in fact, they sent us per Monsieur Monté, any amount of sulphurets and pyrites, which, they say, augur rich diggings. We all at once recognized the witch by character, and desire to be presented most lovingly to her, as well as to Mrs. F., and dear little Brooks.

Come at once, or we may not meet again until we reach the Pacific coast.

{centered} Your friend truly, {right justified} SUSAN B. HALLET. {CENTERED} CHAPTER XXIII. {CENTERED} VISITING THE NEIGHBORS.

DURING my stay in the country, I frequently called to see a lady in whose society I took no little interest. She averred that it was utterly useless for me to be going on to California, as it had been predicted by the prophets that the war would drive all the chosen of the Lord (of whom she was confident from my voice, I was one), back to the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem. Indeed, she contended that she was entirely satisfied that I would one day become an exemplary Mormon woman.

With all the gravity of which I was mistress, I told her I should have one insuperable objection to becoming a saint, and that was the fear that my husband would take another wife.

"Ah, child!" she earnestly rejoined, "when your heart is converted, and your eyes opened to the exaltation of your husband in the heavenly city, with his wives and his children around him, you will look at the matter differently. Every saint is to be a king and a prince, and for a man to pretend to set up a kingdom with one wife, would be ridiculous. When you die you'll have no husband; you are only married for time, while we are sealed to all eternity."

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Parks," I answered, "we sometimes make bad bargains matrimonially, in which case I should think it a happy thing indeed, to be released before the end of time, to say nothing of eternity. Are good women, when sealed to wicked men, compelled to follow them to their eternal abode?"

"Oh, no," she replied, smiling at my simplicity. "Good women will be divorced from the sinful husbands and given to the faithful. Oh, it's a marvellous work, and a wonder."

"Mrs. Parks," I inquired, "Is there danger of the President's taking a fancy to Gentile women?"

"Were you afraid to stay in the city on that account?" said she, laughing heartily, and telling me of some Missouri ladies who put their masculine guardians to much trouble to take them by a circuitous route around the city, for fear Brigham would become enamored of their charms.

"Well," rejoined I, gravely, "being pretty good-looking when I am dressed up, I thought I might be in some danger, though I gave myself no especial anxiety on that account, I must say."

"Indeed, you might consider yourself highly honored," was her answer. "I told sister Lawson, last week, that if I was as young and as handsome as she, I would expect to ride in that fine carriage with the white horses."

Here were these grave old Mormon matrons jesting of the Prophet as a beau. Meanwhile the old man sat watching my countenance. "You are thinking you would not consider it much of an honor," he said significantly.

"No, I rather think not; but when I am converted, I shall look upon it differently."

"Ah, yes; when you are converted," remarked the old lady, rolling her eyes reverentially upwards, "you will see things in another light. Oh, it is a marvellous work, and a wonder"--just then I espied a very tempting-looking pan of berries on the table. Mr. Armat who had just come from the city, had seen none like them. So I sat there resolving to try my personal fascinations, and the effect of a little (unjustifiable, I own) flattery upon the old couple.

"Mrs. Parks," I began, "I do not know anything about your religion, though I agree with you in thinking it must be a 'marvellous work and a wonder,' for I find very good, kind, generous-hearted people among the Mormons." My friend, the minister's wife, looked at me in quiet amazement.

"Mrs. Parks," I continued, "these are very nice berries. When I was at President Young's house as I passed through the city, his wife, sister Caroline, gave me some of the most delicious fruit I ever saw, and then insisted upon my carrying Brooks all I could." Still the old lady said nothing.

Again I remarked that the saints were such good, kind-hearted people. "Mrs. Parks, I have a sick friend who is traveling for his health; I think he would relish some of these berries. Aren't you going to give me some for him?" The minister's wife evidently considered this very saucy.

"You may take a cup-full," rejoined the old lady.

"Take the pan along wi' you," says the old man. It was a large tin pan; but I lugged it in triumph to the camp. The fruit was such a treat that I found it difficult to convince Mr. Armat that I really wished him to eat as much as he relished.

Next day, Mrs. Parks came to the camp, inquiring for the lady who wore "that thing" on her face, meaning my mask. I think if there is a place on earth in which a lady shows off to greater advantage than all others, it is when doing the honors of her own house. My parlor on this occasion, consisted of a cool spot in the shadow of a wagon.

The old lady, who retained unusual beauty for her years, brought me some books handsomely bound in purple morocco and gold. They were the Prophecies of Joseph, which she wished me to read. "Joseph," said she, "predicted this war. I could have told you all about it even to its beginning in South Carolina, before it began. The angel told Joseph to importune even to the feet of the President, and, 'if he hearken not unto you, then will I vex the nation.' And I'd like to know if the nation aint vexed now!" She firmly believed that the war was only the just judgment of Heaven for the banishment of the Saints from the States.

"Brigham says," she continued, "that if the Saints are driven from Utah, then the earth will refuse to bring forth a blade of grass or an ear of corn. Oh! it is a marvellous work and a wonder."

"Joseph disapproved of polygamy, Mrs. Parks," I ventured to say.

"Oh, no! His wife tried to poison him because he not only believed in it, but practiced it. And this disobedient wife brought up her son to disbelieve in the will of Heaven, as revealed to his father. The Josephites are not the followers of the prophet Joseph, but of his son, who was trained up by this wicked woman. I see," she went on to say, "the trouble with you is this plurality of wives; but you'll be a Saint one of these days; I see it in your face."

"Angels and ministers of grace defend me," was the fervent ejaculation that inwardly rose from my heart. "Let me rather be a maiden as ancient as Enoch's daughter, or a lone, lorn creature like poor old Mrs. Gummage, than a mere sharer with others, in the name and affections of any man."

"How I do wish you could have seen the temple at Nauvoo," she continued: "the baptismal font was mounted on the backs of twelve oxen, the most natural looking things you ever saw. In this font the Saints were baptized for their dead relations. I was immersed twelve times for mine."

"And did your baptism wash away the sins they committed while on earth, and restore them to the place of the blessed?"

"Yes, we believe it did, as plainly as though we had seen them enter the gates. Oh! it is a marvelous work and a wonder."

"Mrs. Parks," I ignorantly inquired, "when Brigham dies, will the succession be hereditary, or Apostolic?"

"You'll see. He'll not die. He is to be President of the United States, and to hold his capital in Independence, Jackson county, Missouri. He'll reign on earth as the Prophet of the Lord. Oh! it is a marvelous work and a wonder. You laugh at all this now, but in time you'll see. Read the prophecies of Joseph, and tell me to-morrow what you think of them."

"Mrs. Parks," said I, "you can well afford to defend polygamy since you know nothing of it experimentally. Your husband, I see, is quite satisfied with you alone."

"You are wrong," she answered. "I have had a trial of it." Her lips quivered despite her efforts at self-control.

"You speak of it as a trial: I can well believe it," I interposed; she, however, quickly rejoined,

"I did not mean it in that sense. I was as cool and as calm as I am at this moment"--here again her eyes twitched and her lips trembled--"when I took another woman by the hand and gave her in marriage to my husband."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"Well," replied the old lady, a little confused, "she wasn't agreeable, that is, she wouldn't work; but sat around for me to wait on her, and we sent her back to her father."

"Had she any children?" I inquired.

"One little boy."

"You loved him as though he had been your own, I suppose?" This was a hard question.

"Mr. Parks is educating and supporting him," was the dry reply.

After this, she spoke of her son's falling in love with the beauty of the village, Miss Julia Sessions. I was quite interested in the story of the young lovers; listened to it with delight, until I thought that John Parks would marry Julia Sessions, live happily with her a year or so, then break her young heart by taking another woman to glean his barley fields and bear him children. Oh this horrible, killing, chilling, unromantic social atmoshpere! It suffocates me. I can scarcely shake off the fearful nightmare; can scarcely realize that I have been born and bred a lady, and that the noblest Romans of them all have been accustomed to take off their hats to me, as such.

Mrs. Parks now rose to leave.

"Come to-morrow," said she, "and bring all your pans and buckets, and gather all the berries you wish. You may bring your friends with you, if you like. You can have some for jelly and cordial too."

The expression upon the face of the minister's wife was truly amusing. A Mormon doctor now joined our circle.

"How many wives have you?" some one asked.

"Only one. Of late my wife tells me she has reached that degree of spiritual exaltation which will enable her to say to me, 'Do as you please in the matter.'"

I ran off, in the direction of the lake. Ignorance of the doctrine he was now promulgating was bliss in my case. He was shattering my ideal before my eyes. I may have meditated suicide, and probably was checked by the remembrance that the waters of the Lake were unfriendly to self-destructionists.

{centered} CHAPTER XXIV. {CENTERED} ONE OF THE TWELVE.

SINCE entering upon the Bitter-Creek route, we have seen no more green grass nor bright flowers. The vegetation, which consists solely of stunted trees of sage, grease wood and oil-weed, has a bluish tint, and burns like tinder. Even in its green state, the blue leaves blaze and crackle as though oil had been poured upon the flames. It is supposed that an extract from these oleaginous plants will one day be introduced into the markets, which will rival petroleum.

Since we have been in Utah, however, we find brilliant beds of sunflowers, alternating with these strange products of the desert. These sunflower-lands are exceedingly fertile.

After seventeen days' rest, we resume our journey. In all this travel we have only lost two mules. The minister's died of mountain pharcy. Clyde's Alice, in attempting one morning before day, to scratch her ear, hitched her iron shoe in her rope necklace, choking herself to death.

On our way from the city we visited the warm sulphur baths. Verily, mother Nature has been kind to her children in Utah, in furnishing baths so delightfully tempered, already for use. About two miles farther up the road, we stopped to see the hot springs. Standing upon the rocks, looking at the mysterious cavern from whence the boiling waters flow, I found my feet growing delightfully warm, the day being raw and cold, from contact with the hot rocks. We also passed a sulphur lake. For three days our route lay along the margin of Great Salt Lake. In fact, we found some of its fresh-water tributaries rather difficult to navigate from shore to shore.

We now missed our charming compagnons de voyage, Mrs. Hallet, Rose, Julia and Mrs. Ellis, whom we left with her husband in Salt-Lake city, no little. Our appreciation of the marvellous works of nature by which we were surrounded being heightened by being shared. However, we had a very pleasant circle left. At City Bountiful we attended Church. The tabernacle was a compound of the beautiful stones with which the country abounds, in their native state, but the mosaic was so skillfully wrought that a very creditable edifice became the result. The plastering was, indeed, beautifully executed. In the pulpit there were seven Mormon Elders. He who rose first to address the audience, had on no coat; his vest, however, was gay, and his pantaloons curious; he had lost the hair off the top of his head, and the teeth out of the front of his mouth. However, he had two immense ivory tusks standing sentinel on either side of his tongue, keeping guard over that unruly member, as it were. On either side of his head he had also two locks, which took a reverent curl upwards, causing him, however, to fill my ideal of Mephistophiles, much better than some dramatic representations of the gentleman I have seen.

In the centre of the church there was a long table, and around this the choir was disposed. The music was manufactured by a bass viol and two smaller instruments of the same genus and species, accompanied by some dozen masculine and feminine voices. My pen here fails--utterly breaks down--appealing, reader, to your imagination, which must help us, or we sink. I supposed prayer would follow, but heard nothing of the kind. The brother I have so poorly described above, however, rose, saying he had been instructed by the convention to make known the prices fixed at its late session upon produce. Wheat was to be sold to the emigrants at twenty-one dollars per bushel. Barley, at seven; "for," said the speaker, "the Good Book says: 'A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley;' but vex not the oil and the wine, that is, sell to the stranger; don't let them suffer, but sell at your own prices. There is a man in this house, under the sound of my voice, that has sold barley below the convention prices; he knowed well what he was adoin' of when he done it, and he will be reported at the October convention." Our soldier visitors in the canon had told us previously that the Saints were all considered stewards of the Lord, and that any one who did not obey Brigham's edicts, as issued by these conventions, would have his property taken from him and given to some worthier and more faithful steward. After some further remarks bearing upon trade, followed by music by the choir, our orator introduced one of the most distinguished among the apostles, and retired. This worthy wore an apple-green alpaca coat, black vest and pants, making a brilliant display of a scarlet bandana pocket-handkerchief. He had a book before him, from which, I think, he read a text; that is, however, n'importe, as it bore no relation to his remarks. He "had been raised in York State," he said, "on the poor hills of which he had been compelled to glean the barley fields upon his knees, lest a grain of it should be lost. Now," said he, "see what the Lord has done for his faithful followers; He has led us to this valley, which is richer far than the places they drive us from. Whar! my brethren," says he, "can you find such fields of grain, (here he waved his hand, bending over and looking out the door), as these before us!--eighty bushels of barley to the acre;--ain't that what your land fetches, brother Adcock?"

"That's it!" emphatically rejoined the brother.

"And the taters," continued the apostle, "why, my brethren, I have seen the big mechanics crowd one 'nuther in the hills till they fairly cracked the ground open, a hollerin' to the clouds to git eout o' the way thar, and gimme room to grow. Now, brethren, it is the purpose of the Lord to try these people with riches. It may bring damnation to their souls!--I can't tell; but if it's got to come, it mout as well come now as any time. You must, I repeat it--I say it over agin and agin, brethren,--you must stick up to the prices fixed by the kinvention. If you don't do it, why, my hearers, a pair of coarse stoga boots will soon cost you more'n a bushel o' wheat. Brethren, the prices fixed by the kinvention is inspiration. Brigham didn't say so, adjactly, but then it is--it's all the same. It 'pears like, my brethren, that the Lord he put us in this rich and fertile valley, jist to show this ere people as hav driv us from pillar to poss, that they can't git to the golden lands of Californy nor the silver mountains of Nevady, 'thout buyin' corn and grain of us. And who sez we ought'nt to make 'em pay for it? Now, my brethren, you hev ben told that thar is times when it is the dooty of a Saint to kill his brother 'cordin' to the flesh, or 'cordin' to the tabernacle, fur the good of that brother's soul. Now, ef any of you see the brethren agoin' astray, and departin' from the rules laid down by the kinvention, it is better, my brethren, for you to kill thar bodies of flesh in this world, rather'n fur thur souls to be eternally lost hereafter. Brethren, them as kills a Saint fur the good o' that Saint's sould, will be that Saint's master in paradise,--so sez the prophet. Thar's them as talks and fusses moutly 'bout polygamy. All I hev to say is, it's the law of the church--it's inspiration, preached by the prophet Joseph: to him the angel of the Lord appeared, and he delivered to him the golden plates, whereon was writ: 'A man shill hev as many wives as he likes.' And more'n all o' that, it's nobody's biziness but our'n, no how! My brethren, I've been a Mormon all my life. Fustly, I jined the Pressbyterins, then I jined on to the Methodys, and lastly, the Babtisses; but, my brethren, thar was allers sumthin' lackin'. Then I heered a Mormon preacher preach, and, my brethren, I got so happy that day I knowed I'd been a Mormon all my life, but I did'nt know it. Sence that blessed day there has been no dubiety in my mind. Brethren, them Saints as listens to what Gentiles and outsiders sez 'pon polygamy is in danger of loosin' thar crowns in paradise jist from follering arter the hallucinations of other men's brains. I repeat it--I proclaim it agin and agin--thar's no dubiety in my mind 'pon taht pint--none! Now, brethren, when you work for a Saint, don't be too pertickiler in jowerin' 'bout prices. Leave it all to the Saint's honor, and ten to one he'll pay you more'n ef you jowered and jowered 'bout it. Brethren, be faithful to the prices fixed by the kinvention; be faithful to one another; be faithful to the law and the gosspill and the profits, and thar's no power on the yerth as kin keep us from bein' a rich, a exhalted and a prosperous nation--the chosen of the Lord. You all remember, brethren, how Conner axed Brigham fur soldiers to whip the rebels and the Injins. And Brigham, he hists a little flag behind Conner's back. And in a moment, in the twinklin' of an eye, two thousand on 'em sprung to arms. Conner couldn't see the flag behind him and he was skeered. 'Don't want 'em now Gov,' said Conner, 'but you must hev em in readiness.' Sez Brigham, 'I kin hev twenty thousand at two hours warnin'.' Brigham did'nt say how, but you all know what little flags stuck out 'pon the mountain-tops of Utah means--eh!" After music of the choir we were dismissed.

Not wishing to attract attention upon this occasion, we endeavored to look as much like Mormons as possible. There must be some sort of freemasonry, however, which we omitted, as it was evident that we were recognized as Gentiles.

{centered} CHAPTER XXV. {CENTERED} MYSTERIOUS SPRINGS- THE WEDDING.

SOME of the gentlemen in our train were told by army officers in Salt-lake City that there were certain springs upon our route from which a single taste of water would cause instant death. Others were informed that a herd of horses had been wintered beside these very springs. Mr. Armat seemed inclined to believe the report of the army officers. The Captain credited the other story. So, when we approached them, after a long drive, with only the water in our kegs, the drivers were ordered to give each mule half a bucket, but no more. We then drove on, stopping to noon, and watch the effect. In the course of three hours or less time, the herd was driven back, to drink at their own discretion.

One evening, in this locality, as we sat at twilight around the minister's tent, a gentleman came from a neighboring camp, making inquiries as to the preacher's identity. After a definite understanding between the parties, the minister said: "May I ask the name of the bridegroom?"

"I myself am the happy chum," rejoined the gentleman, his face all wreathed in smiles.

It proved to be a Gretna-Green affair. It seems, however, that the lady was stolen from a rival lover, and not from a watchful guardian, and the elopement was entered upon in order to evade the dire consequences of love's entanglements.

This was a wilderness for us; the streamlets upon which we now encamped nightly, had an unnatural way of hiding their mouths in the dust, rather than of mingling their waters with their betters. We were delighted to reach the Humboldt Wells, or Thousand-Spring Valley, as it is called--head-waters of the Humboldt River, however. These springs were usually about ten feet deep, crystal clear and cool. Moreover, they contained beautiful, moutain-speckled trout.

One night we encamped beside a stream of warm water, just the proper temperature for bathing. The waters now began to be blue, and pink, and sulphurous warm, hot and alkaline. The water we had been accustomed to consider in its natural state was quite unnatural. Indeed, it was very difficult to find such as we needed. This was in Humboldt Canon. The scenery was gloriously grand. Italian marble, beautifully veined with pink, paved the way. The pavement was not very skillfully adjusted, however, as immense boulders appeared to have been hurled from the mountain-tops into our pathway. The very mountains looked like silent volcanoes, and the rocks seemed to have been charred in a furnace. How we ever passed through the Canon with the upsetting of but one wagon is yet a mystery. That evening, after we encamped, Virgie came over to our tent to learn a new stitch in crochet-work, as we could crochet very well in our ambulances.

"What a mysterious country this is, Virgie?" said I, "with its pink and blue waters, its sublime scenery and its curious vegetation. I almost expected to see gnomes and goblins step out from beneath the willows which fringed that sulphurous creek. Even the atmosphere seemed charged with some unearthly odor."

"Yes!" said Virgie, looking up artlessly from her knitting-work. "And did you perceive that curious smell of whiskey in the Canon."

"Certainly, Virgie," I solemnly replied; "I have no doubt there is a whiskey spring in that Canon; but don't let's say anything about it, for we could never get the boys on the other side of it. Jamie, I know, would desert."

Virgie looked at me earnestly, as if considering the import of my words.

I could restrain my humorous proclivities no longer.

"Virgie," said I, "we broke the bottom out of our demijohn thumping over the rocks."

"Well," laughingly rejoined Virgie, "I thought I never smelt such a strong smell of whiskey in all my life."

Our mules became very jaded and weary traveling over these rocky mountain steeps; however, we had excellent grass and generally contrived to find good water. The Indians among which we were now traveling were represented as wily and dangerous. Occasionally we would see a fire in the mountains, but no other sign of them.

About this time we were overtaken by Captain Rodgers' train. This gentleman had a consumptive wife who had started upon a bed, in an old-fashioned stage coach; now, however, she had so far recovered as to be sitting beside her husband in a lighter vehicle. In the Larimie country, thirteen Cheyennes had dashed upon them while at breakfast, capturing eleven horses. The Captain and three men pursued them. Captain Rodgers, in the chase, found himself separated from his men, and directly in front of two savages, one armed with a rifle, the other with a bow and arrow. The Captain himself carried a double-barrelled shot gun; with this he coolly took aim at the Indian who held the bow, but turning, fired upon his companion, killing him instantly. The other took refuge in flight, though he bore the marks of the reserved fire, swearing to be avenged. Under the circumstances, Captain Rodgers' party suffered no little anxiety, as may be imagined, in these mountain fastnesses.

In this train I had the fortune to make an acquaintance. Said she, "How does your teamsters do?"

"We had some trouble at first," I replied, "but we get on very well now."

"Well, ourn jest lazes and lumoxes round in de waggions, and my man, he hes de wirk to do hisself, arter paying 'em well. I jaws and jaws 'em 'bout it, but lors, woman, it don't do no good."

Next day, while I was nooning, my siesta was disturbed by a strange voice, in this wise: "I jest come over here to get clear of the plaguey wimmen." "Wimmen!" says Jamie, "Faith and don't you like the wimmen folks, mon?" "Yes," was the gruff rejoinder, "I likes 'em well nouff when they know their places." Upon looking out I recognized the "lazin lumoxin" fellow.

One day, in this locality, two Indians came up dressed in civilized garb; this we considered a bad indication, as it argued the presence of unprincipled whites in their midst, who would doubtless lead them on to desperate deeds. These Indians told us they were Pyutes. "Pyute berry good Injun; next you come to Shoshone; Shoshone berry bad Injun; steal horse, moal, cow." One had a paper upon which some wag had endorsed his character in these words: "This is a very good Indian to keep grub from spoiling: if you don't believe me, try him." The innocent knew not how directly "to the point" were his credentials.

We crossed and re-crossed the Humboldt. At length we came upon a camp or "wake-up" of Shoshone warriors, with not a squaw among them--an alarming sign. There were also white men with them; these latter met us, voluntarily advising us to take a certain one of two routes; you may depend we took the other. At night the Indians would crowd around the camp, offering speckled mountain trout for sale. First, they would hold up the fish, saying, "biscuit, swap." If you swapped a shirt for a fish, a biscuit had to be thrown in, and they would put the garment on right before your face. We saw one with no less than five shirts, one over the other. Poor fellow, he had no wardrobe but his back, from which they would not be stolen. A red rag was taken in preference to a pair of Brooks' pants, by a little Indian boy, in exchange for his fish.

One evening while upon the Humboldt, we met a party of gentlemen from California, who advised us to stop in the mountains of Nevada and winter our mules, as the drought had rendered it very expensive feeding stock in California. One of them proposed to act as guide; so we went across the sage brush to Austin, the silver-mining city of Nevada.

On this route Mr. Armat's mule gave out. I was happy to lend him Celeste Price, thus settling the long standing controversy between us.

All our mules now became so jaded that we resolved upon a day's rest. This was in the valleys of Nevada. Cold water here is almost as rare as Champagne. The cattle learn to drink warm water. From various points around our camp we could see the steam arising from hot springs. Clyde and I visited those nearest, about a mile from camp.

There was a mound upon the top of which we found a bathing pool of warm water. It seemed to be about ten feet in diameter, and Clyde, who had tried it, assured me its depth would not appal me. He insisted I should try it, while he washed his pocket handkerchief in some hot springs under the projecting rocks, which on one side supported the mound. Nature seemed indeed to have taken my measure, as the delicious warm waters just came to my neck. My feet had, however, scarcely touched the peculiar vegetable matter which lined the bottom, ere I exclaimed, "Clyde! Clyde! there are eels in here."

"Who ever heard of eels in warm water, goosey?" he gruffly replied. I never expect on the face of the globe to find another such bathing pool; old ocean is nothing to it. Nature had paved the pool as elaborately as though art had come to her assistance, and the water was certainly superior as a washing mixture to those of any pharmaceutist, I care not how distinguished he be. Never saw I anything so deliciously cleansing and stimulating as its effect upon the skin. Upon returning to camp, I, however, spoke quite modestly of its merits, (advising every one, however, to try it,) as there were certain parties who were perpetually throwing my enthusiasm in my teeth.

Upon this occasion, I am happy to say, they came back with the famous answer of the Queen of Sheba in their mouths.

{centered} CHAPTER XXVI. {CENTERED} EVANGELINE AND BASIL.

AT Austin we had the happiness of being re-united to the friends from whom we parted at Salt-Lake City. They were keeping house temporarily, and resting, preparatory to resuming the journey over the Siera's. I thought I had seen hospitality and appreciated it; but never as now, for never was I in a position to enjoy it with such relish. Every evening our parlor was brilliant with glad, familiar faces. And now Nemesis paid back that little debt we held against the gentlemen when they were in the ascendancy. Even the haughty Mr. Armat said almost humbly, "Miss Lilian will not allow me to promenade Montgomery street with her--I see it already."

One morning two ladies strolled up into the Resse River Mining City. Chance brought them to a drug-store. A well-known physician of California was standing beside the counter. At once he began to rally the whilom belle and beauty of St. Joseph upon her travel-worn appearance.

"You speak, Doctor, as though vanity was a weakness exclusively feminine. I am sure you must find it very pleasant to be so good-looking," said one of the ladies.

Leaving the elegant Mrs. Hallet, the physician approached her lady friend, saying: "You are the daughter of Arthur de Laureal. I knew him well."

"And you, Doctor, I hear, are brother to the husband of my adopted sister, Mary Grattan."

"Do you know anything of the family?"

"Roland," he replied, "is here, sick."

The strange lady almost clutched the Doctor's arm.

"Roland here! Roland here, sick! Then," she added, "he is married to Belle Evelyn."

"No; Roland has never married. Rumor tells of a disappontment."

"Doctor," said Lilian, "find me but a Ganymede and I will search for him in the deepest, darkest mine of all Nevada."

"I will only be too happy to undertake the office myself," rejoined the Doctor, "wait here until I prepare him for the interview."

"Ladies," said Mrs. Hallet's gallant friend, the druggist, "suppose we await the Doctor in the restaurant opposite?"

While the ladies were praising Nevada cream, pronouncing it superior to any they had ever seen, the Doctor returned. Evangeline and Basil met. That evening the Doctor visited the ladies.

"All my skill for weeks," said he, "has failed to accomplish what that little visit has done for my patient. Now, he will recuperate. I see it already."

Next day, Roland's friend, a gentleman of San Francisco, placed him tenderly in a carriage, and brought him to see Lilian. All day he lay on a lounge, and she sat by his side bestowing those little attentions which make bestower and receiver so happy.

"Now, you have been so long deprived of the old-times luxuries, for what do you most wish?" said Roland; "speak and it shall be yours."

"Music!" was the answer.

"Ah! I see you have changed so little; your hair is as soft, and brown, and your eyes as gentle as ever. There are silver threads in my hair," and he ran his pale hands through his black hair.

"They are premature, Roland."

"But you are just the same, always longing for music. I shall have every opportunity of gratifying you. They have fine musical taste in the Queen City of the Pacific. Your slightest wish shall be anticipated. Was it not ever thus in the far-off Quaker City when we were boy and girl? Our home shall be in one of the cities which enwreath the beautiful bay. You will not go on with the party; in a few days I shall be able to attend to business. Then we will enjoy together the weird scenery of the Siera's. A few days we will rest at the beautiful lake which glistens like a jewel in the crown of the monarch of mountains. In a little boat we will glide over its waters. Then I will stop awhile in my home at the foot hills of the Siera's, and in three weeks join you at the Sacramento Fair, never! never! Lilian, to leave you again. Is it not so, my own one?"

Next day, Roland was so much improved, that he came to see Lilian on horseback, and the following morning he walked.

"Lilian," said Roland, "when I entered the room this morning, and found it filled with company, I thought I should never get a second glance at those eyes. Did you observe the searching glance I gave you?"

Lilian's answer was a smile and a conscious blush.

"Lilian, those eyes are as the light of morning to me. They bring back childhood! home! mother! Oh! Lilian, I have wandered in my loneliness over these wild romantic Pacific slopes, seeking forgetfulness. My only solace being the sympathy of my one friend Harry Wood, who confided in me also. Reverse of fortune compelled him to leave wife and children, of whom he talked to me upon the lonely mountain top, or amid scenes of excitement, in which we sometimes sought oblivion. He also knows of one Lilian, the dream of my boyhood. Ah! Lilian, he will rejoice, and yet half annoy me, when he knows that we have been re-united. Some of these days, Lilian, in the bright future, we will visit the Cascade Mountains in Oregon, so awfully sublime are they that you feel as though you were standing face to face with the Great, Omnipotent, Invisibile Visible Architect of the Universe. And you came here seeking health, Lilian," said he, changing the subject suddenly. "The delicious climate of California will restore you--it shall restore you. Lilian, I have sometimes numbered my days--but I shall number them no longer now. See how rapidly I have recuperated since you came. Oh, Lilian, when you came into my sick room that day, and took me by the hand, calling me Roland, your voice was sweeter music than the harp of David. All you have heard, Lilian, of this anomalous but charming country is true; strawberries ripen almost perpetually; the grapes rival those of the famous Rhine Lauer, in the volcanic regions of Europe. You will see the black pepper of commerce growing and bearing fruit in the yards and gardens of Sacramento. The almond, the nutmeg--all fruits of all countries flourish in this blessed land. And flowers! Lilian, you will feel as if you had never seen flowers, when you behold those of Santa Cruz and San Jose. Their dyes are so brilliant and their development so superior to those of the inland and Atlantic States. Ah! Lilian, now that you are with me, the future is all wreathed in flowers, bright as the flowers of Santa Cruz and Santa Clara. Lilian, I am not like other men, I cannot adapt myself to circumstances, unless I have those about me whom I love. I live solitary and alone. But whatever may have been the sins of my nature, they have been expiated. Henceforth, Lilian and love shall dwell with me. San Francisco shall be gay for you this winter, my Lily, and next summer we will visit the giant trees, and you shall behold the wondrous Bridal Vail of Gosemite.

{CENTERED} {CHAPTER XXVII.} {CENTERED} THE CROWDED COACH.

WHILE Lilian and Roland were love-making, we were having our troubles. Such was the utter stagnation of business, resulting from the reaction of the flush times of sixty-three, that property would not command a fourth of its value. And such at this time was the depreciation of our national currency, and the exorbitant price demanded for articles of actual necessity, that temporary bankruptcy seemed impending. Moreover, our drivers and serving men, some of whom proved themselves nature's noblemen, and to all of whom we became attached, despite their faults, could not find employment by which to make their bread. Expensive as the living was, we fed them some time after dismissing them. It was singular to observe the change in the Munchausen characteristics of the narratives of Mr. "Wonderful," of whom more anon.

We hear no shrewd but ofttimes rough encounters of wit at the men's camp-fires now. However, when Lilian came out to see them, Jamie cried out:--

"Sure an' its Miss Lilian. Faith an' I didn't know you, mim. Your eyes are so bright, and your face is so round and so rosy, you looks more like a blush rose than our same pale Miss Lily. Sure, Miss Lily, an I wish ye all 'appiness, for they do say, as ye've found your swate heart, him that you've been breaking your heart after. But it's all going right now, Miss Lily, I see it in your blue ee, Miss Lily, an' I wish ye's all 'appiness ye an' the handsome master. Yesterday I see him, Miss Lily, and I tould him how I had brought you out on the long-eared rabbits, which I made into stems, and the antelope, and plover, an' sage hens, which ye said yerself, Mither Nature had flavored with sage, and I tould him, too, how I most killed ye, which I wouldn't 'ave done for the life of me--on salerathus when we started off from St. Jo. An' he larfed, Miss Lily, till I thought he would split his sides at the tales I told him. An' the gentleman that was with him he it was that was afther saying, sure an' Mrs. Roland could nather ate nor slape for the drameing of yes. An' he said, faith an' it was Mr. Roland that said, here, Jamie, be afther drinking to the health of Miss Lilian, an' then he tossed jist a yallow boy into me hand sure."

At length we bade our friends in Austin good-by, taking the coach for Virginia City. Roland recuperated so rapidly, and looked so cheerful and well, that Lilian decided to go on with the party, especially as Roland's business (fortune had smiled upon him) was somewhat beyond immediate control. Roland, however, looked at her longingly and regretfully.

"Lily," he said, "you know it will be as though the light of day had been withdrawn from me, and I had been left in darkness when you leave me. However, Lily, since you think it best, go. I will meet you at most in three weeks at the Sacramento Fair. I respect your decision, Lily, though I am so selfish as to regret it."

Think, reader, of Corinne's considering prudence and expediency, when invited by Oswala to ride in the easy coaches behind the dashing horses, over the Siera's and beside Lake Tahoe.

Sorely Lilian was punished. Roland revived so rapidly and looked so happy and handsome, how could she know that disease was still preying upon him? To the last he hoped she would remain. The coach had no sooner left than his friend came.

"Before I take my seat," said he, "tell me if Miss De Laureal has left? The coach was so crowded Roland hopes she may yet be here." She was gone.

The horrors of that journey can never be appreciated by any but the actual sufferers. Had the minister been so tortured for opinion's sake, he might have merited a place among the martyrs. Whenever I moved my feet, I had to request the gentleman from Sonoma to move his first. But for the fine old wine sent with the compliments of our friend, the gallant druggist aforenamed, I think we could scarcely have survived it. The ladies were, however, very much pleased with our introduction to the California gentleman. They were so polite and considerate, always offering some delicate attention. Brooks they adopted for the nonce, relieving his mother of all care. The gentleman from Placerville tried to pass himself for a bachelor, but was so proud and happy in his marriage that he betrayed himself, as is usual in such cases. We arrived in Virginia City just before day, too much exhausted to look about. Next morning when we beheld from our windows the wonderful city, the gem of the mountains, we felt as though we had been reading a fairy tale. The transition from prison-walls to those of an airy, fairy palace, could not have been more startling. In order to rest to see the far-famed Gould and Carry, in the subterranean palaces of which you are attended by servants in livery, and to pass Lake Tahoe in the day time, we spent a day or two at the International. How we enjoyed a sight of the forest monarchs that tower around Lake Tahoe! But for this journey I never could have realized what an effort tree-making requires on the part of Nature. The trees of Glenarny had been my companions and friends in childhood. I had never thought of them but in reverence and admiration.

The California gentlemen in the coach after smiling at my enthusiasm upon sight of my old associates, told me how Nature had overdone her ornamental work in some parts of the State. I concluded that it was at the expense of a vast amount of her territory that she had concentrated her efforts in this coup de maitre. Among the passengers in the coach, (its capacity was nine--thirteen, however, were crowded on and in), I must not omit to mention a lady quite becomingly dressed and a sweet little wee baby. This person talked of her relations in Philadelphia, quite a distinguished family in commercial circles, and of her husband, who appeared, as indeed he should, to be the pride of her heart. She also exhibited a set of valuable diamonds which he had lately presented to her. Fortunately or unfortunately, as the case may be, dress and jewels cannot constitute even a temporary lady, unless that little tell-tale, which lies between the teeth, has been tutored in the paths of refinement. Indeed, it was amusing on this journey to see what a poor criterion was dress, and how effectually language and manner asserted their dignity under all circumstances. Among the casualties of the coach-ride I may be pardoned for mentioning the loss of the baggage I had put up for temporary use at the hotel in Sacramento, until my trunks which were forwarded by the slow freight or mountain-schooner express, should arrive.

I went to the company's office. The agent insisted all the baggage had been delivered. Gave me no satisfaction; indeed, behaved quite insolently. This was the opposition line which had been recommended in Austin, from its giving time to lay over at night. The fare was also less and we were getting out of funds.

At Virginia city our gentlemen who were in a high state of indignation at the crowd forced upon us as well as the treatment we received generally from the line, compelled them to refund the money; and we took the regular line for Sacramento.

Meantime, I sent for a lawyer; the lawyer sent for a notary. I made a statement of the value of my baggage. The notary looked it over carefully.

"Why did'nt you value your clothes at something? why, I never heard of such cheap clothing!"

"That is all they cost me," I replied. "I thought I had to make affidavit to the statement, and I am not used to oaths, they are very solemn things to me."

"All I have to say is, if you are compelled to replace them in this country you'll find out their value in gold coin," rejoined the notary smiling, probably at my simplicity.

Subsequently the lawyer waited upon the company hoping to bring them to terms without the expense of a lawsuit. They avowed their readiness to swear to any thing to save themselves. I concluded to abandon the suit. Afterwards, in San Francisco, a gentleman told me I should have valued my clothing at one thousand dollars, just ten times the amount I had given.

"In that case" said he, "you could have had something to pay the cost of a lawsuit, and--nothing ever goes against a woman in this country, did you not know that?"

{centered} CHAPTER XXVIII. {CENTERED} PASSING LAKE TAHOE.

FRIDAY morning at half past six o'clock, September twenty-third, A.D., 1864, we left Virginia city in th luxurious coaches of the overland-mail company. W had only three new faces this time. One was a lady, probably twenty-five years of age, and with a good wholesome look about her. Her face was somewhat soiled; however, that was a casualty which might befall any of us at any time on this route. The morning air though delicious was somewhat cool in this altitude, and our lady companion appeared socially inclined. Finally she informed us gratis, that she was following a certain feminine who proved to be our lady with the diamonds, for the purpose of killing her, and avenging the wrongs of a noble woman, her relative. This information was given sotto voce, confidentially to one of our number. I should say, as for myself, I had enough to do with watching the wonder-workings of nature and--money. The latter appeared to have stepped into the shoes of old Father Time, and to have thrown the wondrous lamp of Alladdin into the shade. For six miles along the canon, (the topography of the country admitting of but one street of any length), the cities of Virginia and Gold Hill with their magnificent mills and mystic mining auxiliaries, extended.

Nor did the wonder-workings of King Specie cease here. Throughout Carson Valley we saw hotels and other improvements which ofttimes threw those of the Atlantic and Inland States in the back ground. And the ladies we observed about these hotels were invariably elegantly and tastefully attired. At length we reached the beautiful Lake Tahoe. The name signifying sparkling waters.

Talk no more of Lock Lomond, and Ben Nevis, ye poets. Como, Baden, and Brighton, I know only in my dreams. But have you a diadem which towers above the clouds, and a jewel in that coronet thirty miles in length by twelve in breadth, which flashes in the sunlight with a radiance of which the korinoor dare not boast? And has this jewel a setting marvelously gorgeous and grand? Are its colors those of the amethyst, the sapphire, the ruby, the emerald, the opal? Have you luxurious hotels for the accommodation of visitors? Do beautiful ladies and gentlemen, handsome, noble and gallant, sail in pleasure-boats over your waters, angle for your numberless speckled mountain-trout, hunt the swift hare, the elk, the deer, the cayote, and bear, in their wild forest fastnesses? Does the giant pine, the umbrella fir, the camel-like mansinita, bedeck your lawns and parterres? Does the faded beauty leave you refreshed with the roses of health, and the feeble consumptive bless you for your beneficence, saying, I owe you a life? Then look aloft, I pronounce you the peers of Tahoe.

The overland-mail route, or grade, is kept in excellent order, being watered to prevent the dust from annoying passengers. In many places, however, it is necessarily so narrow that timid voyagers upon looking down upon the frightful precipices below us, and hearing the merry bells which give warning of the approach of the cumbrous mountain schooner, become the victims of their fears, and the jests of their bolder comrades, who are merciless in their unsympathy. The mules attached to these immense wagons are so superb, that you begin at once to credit the stories you have heard of the wonderful vigor with which animal life flourishes on the Pacific coast. The Commodore who had traveled nearly two thousand miles over sand and sage brush, and then attempted to run away with a wagon, being only after all, an ordinary animal by comparison. At length after zig-zagging slowly up the mountains often coming back apparently to the point from which we set out, we reached the apex of the Sieras. Now bid your nerves avaunt, ye timorous mortals! For the autocratic coachman is lashing, and his fiery steeds are dashing down the Sieras, as if in a mad race with the American river, which goes rumbling and tumbling, and raging and fretting itself into sea horses' manes, in its haste to get over the boulders which lie in its bed. Oh! that moon-light night in the Sieras, and beside the rushing river! Living witness that "a thing of beauty is a joy forever." Finally, supper at Strawberry, is announced. A poet could not eat amid such scenes, nor did I, though the fare was excellent. Alas, I might starve myself to a shadow, and never be mistaken for a laureate. Though I believe there is poetry in me, a-lack-a-day that it should not be such as lies upon booksellers' shelves.

At the risk of committing that greatest of conversational blunders, a twice-told tale, I will relate the origin of the name of this romantic station. Now, reader, if you have seen this story in the writings of Ross Browne already, I conjure you to remember that all human nature is subject to the like infirmities, and you know not when you may be telling somebody a tale they have heard before. Be charitable, therefore; it becometh humanity to wear the graceful mantle of charity. At an early day, some emigrants stopped at this ranche, in the hope of procuring provender for their famishing animals. Nothing could be obtained but straw. The feelings of the disappointed wayfarer were beyond control, and so was his language. Imagine the feelings of the innocent rancheman, whose name was Berry, upon hearing himself anathematized for a good-for-nothing Straw-Berry. So the place was christened Strawberry, and a charming strawberry it is to this day. At the City of Placerville, once famed for its rich placer diggings, we had a bed from three o'clock until breakfast, which consisted of tea and toast, cream and peaches, and for which Brooks and myself paid seven dollars and fifty cents specie. We had, however, our money's worth, though no charge for that was entered against us, a good comedy being always worth money, and it was quite as good as a comedy to watch the swell who officiated as chief clerk at this hotel. There, also, for the first time, we came in contact with the long-cued mongolian. The hills were crowned with luscious grapes, and the soil, a rich deep sea, as if partaking of the nature of gold. A gentleman bought a dime's worth of grapes; found he had so many he could not manage them, divided with Brooks. Talk no more to me of your grapes, ye poor, insignificant little Atlantic and inland vineyards. Only let those who hail from Rhineland boast of the glories of the vine. In time we reached Latrobe, heard the familiar whistle of the iron horse; in a few moments he was snorting over the golden strand and bearing us to the Pacific shore. In consequence of the loss of my baggage, I stopped at Folsom rather than go to the fashionable hotels of Sacramento to await my trunks. At the hotel--the Central, I think, it was called--we had luxurious fare. The company, however, was too gay for me, in my one dusty traveling dress, and I sought a private boarding-house. Mrs. Short was recommended.

"How long do you warnt to stay?" demanded my landlady.

"Only a few days, until my trunks reach Sacramento."

"Well, I dunno as it'll pay to rid up a room for ye," replied Mrs. Short, scratching her head. "I'll see what Miranda says."

Miranda reported favorably, and for the first time in four months, a prospect of rest and home comforts was around me. After supper, which was very good, the old lady called out with a nasal twang: "Ah, Chu! ah, Chu! come and help me to rid up the table."

At first I thought she was sneezing; when I found, however, that her invocation brought forth a Chinaman, I felt as though I was growing enlightened. While the ridding process was going on, she catechised me in this wise:

"You have got a mighty sweet little boy; but you hain't no husband livin', I 'spose? This is a hard country on lone wimmen. Are you a dress-maker?"

"No," I replied, thinking to myself (in ironical fashion), that the superiority of my dress and manner had probably procured me the compliment.

"You ain't no dress-maker?" she continued.

"No," I again gravely rejoined. A pause.

"Well, if you ain't no dress-maker, what do you do for a livin'."

"Nothing," I answered. A long pause this time, broken by the old lady's saying in a manner which indicated some entanglement of her faculties:

"And you ain't no dress-maker?"

"No; I think if I had to make my living, I would teach school." This I said in the hope of satisfying her.

"Oh, well, this is the very place for you; thar's some as gits as high as a hundred dollars a month, right here in this town. You would like to git up a school, would'nt you?"

"No, I thank you, I have never taught."

"Well, if you ain't no dress-maker, an' you ain't no school-teacher, an' you ain't got no money to live on, I tell you what you kin do--you kin marry." Oh! Moses!

"How long do you think it would take?" I inquired in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Pshaw! jist next to no time at all," she replied. She advised me, however, to be very careful in the selection of a supporter, as divorces and matrimonial infelicities were so common they were thought unworthy of notice in that country. I learned upon inquiry that the Chinamen had a monopoly of the laundry business. Went to bed and sent my clothes to one Hop Lee.

Received letters from Sacramento, urging me to come on immediately. Was heartily sick of Folsom. The beauty of its innumerable dogs, its magpies and its vegetation was, however, an entertaining subject of study. Borrowed a dress, and went in search of Hop Lee. Hop Lee's were so numerous, and there was so little individuality about them, that I might as well have asked for John Smith at the Continental, or Mr. Jones at Barnum's. I was in despair; it was almost car-time. Mrs. Short's clothes were not becoming. Just as I gave up, who should appear but the Merry Hop Lee, with my ruffles all daintily fluted, and my dress looking as spie and span as though it had been born to the water. Bathing and dressing, and getting to the cars in time, were alike exhilarating, so Brooks and I had a charming railroad ride that day, despite our toilet vicissitudes.

{centered} CHAPTER XXIX. {CENTERED} ROLAND AND LILIAN.

AS Lilian sat in the crowded coach she was dreaming all the way dreaming. As she passed the beautiful Lake Tahoe, she could but think what bliss she had renounced. Roland will be so lonely; and he may be in danger; may undertake the journey prematurely. Was she sleeping or waking when she dreamed that Roland was by her side; that, weary and exhausted, he had fallen asleep, resting his head upon her lap; that the passengers were all asleep; that she bent over him, imprinting a kiss upon his pale brow--a little kiss--so slight, that had he perceived it, he would have thought it a dream, or the wing of a passing zephyr. It would have been nothing, and then she might have preserved the memory of it in her heart--as one locks up a jewel in a casket, secure from observers, taking it out now and then, to enjoy its radiance. Time passed. The Sacramento fair came on. In a beautiful phaeton, drawn by a pair of spirited greys, a lady and gentleman might have been seen. The gentleman was obedient to the lady's slightest wish--seemed ven striving to anticipate her caprices--but she was looking wistfully into the crowd, and her heart was saying, "Will Roland never, never come?"

Time still sped on. She came at length to the beautiful bay. Kind, loving friends embraced her. Noble pater familias said:--

"Let her alone. You treat her as though she were sugar or salt; you kill her with kindness."

But they replied, "We knew her when she was a little child; she has been so used to being loved."

In the long autumn evenings her lady friend with the brilliant conversational powers, and the wonderfully retentive memory, would charm her with thrilling stories of the old-time life in California. She would listen, alternately weeping and smiling, but ever and anon the curtains would be thrown aside, and she would be looking at the steamers as they glided over the bay, and wondering if they would bring her no tidings of Roland. At length she dreamed that Roland was sick, oh! so sick. Next day the expressman brought a letter. It ran thus:--

{small caps} "MY OWN LITTLE WOMAN:--

"I have been so ill as to be unconscious for weeks. My attendants say it will yet be a month before I can join you at the Bay. And the rain and the snow in the Siera's will prevent your coming to me. I will write you fully in a few days. Ever your own,

(right justified, small caps) "ROLAND." {centered} CHAPTER XXX. {CENTERED} SACRAMENTO AND THE BAY.

THE night of our arrival at Sacramento there was a fire next door. Every evening the entertainment was repeated in some part of the city. The boys, in fact, seemed to have a taste for pyrotechnics, and everybody knows that children are not checked in any indulgence for which they have a fancy in California. The citizens talked of the great flood which had well-nigh obliterated Sacramento two years before, as the Parisians would of Carnival. Grave gentlemen and ladies asserting that they had never more gay and delightful times. "It will be a year or two before you can understand this feeling among Californians," said they. "A man may borrow money of you to pay for his breakfast to-day, and to-morrow he may be worth an hundred thousand. And you respect him no more to-day than you did yesterday."

During the flood, as fast as the waters of the American and Sacramento swept over part of the city, the inhabitants would visit their neighbors upon more elevated ground, and when the whole city was about to be submerged, they got in boats and merrily set sail for the Bay City.

If Mrs. Noah ever experienced a feeling of sadness, when she in after life reverted to the Deluge, then her daughters in Sacramento certainly did not take after her.

Sacramento was not the Paradise for which I was looking, though it might be a new Jerusalem, if one judged by the number of Jewish merchants, and the unmistakable black-eyed ladies one met on their way to the synagogue, with diamonds in their ears and elegant Parisian toilets. However, Flora had done her part toward making it fairy land.

There sure enough was the beautiful black pepper-tree with its dark-green miniature locust leaves, its tiny pink berries, with the old familiar odor, but as if tinctured with the otter of rose, the pomegranate with its luscious looking fruit, while oleanders pink and white appeared to claim this as their domain. The golden, the pink, the brilliant scarlet velvet, and the waxen white rose, also, blossomed, and perfumed the air in apparent consciousness of the regal estate to which they were heir. The pumpkins might well have answered as a prison for the faithless spouse of the renowned Peter Eter, whom circumstantial evidence proves to have been a Californian. And the onions by bisecting, would have served a destitute emigrant fond of their flavor, as a breakfast plate. With the advantage, if he chanced to be a bachelor, having no wife to subject his platter to the necessary ablutions, of serving as a dessert, thereby avoiding the trouble of keeping a dog, whose tongue, so Bohemians have gravely informed me, answers as an admirable mop in emergencies.

Then the peaches, plums, figs grapes and wine challenge your admiration wherever you go. But unless you have gold, you had better be on the Rock of St. Helena so far as your palate is concerned. Grapes, wine, and pure brandy were, however, very reasonable, provided you supplied yourself, as did my friends--from the vineyards.

The mornings were very warm. About eleven o'clock, however, the breezes from the Golden State affected us poor children of a different clime shockingly. The acclimated, however, appeared to enjoy the bracing air. The mosquitoes in Sacramento waved all their banners and charged with all their chivalry: fair women and brave men, were at their mercy, unless protected by the inevitable window-net.

There was at this time in the city a certain nomad, whom these nets well-nigh suffocated; her nights were nights of sleeplessness, and her days days of wretchedness. One day she was standing beside the window, marveling at the mountain schooners with their matchless dozens of mules, as they went jingling their merry bells through the streets, as they came into Sacramento for goods, with which to supply the mountain mining town. Now, this American gipsy had made a lady acquaintance, with a genius for grapes and for humor; so the two were twin souls. And as she stood by the window, she cried, "Eureka!"

"What is it? what is it?" murmured her friend.

"But an idea which struck me," was the reply.

"And was the blow severe, or is your brain accustomed to such missiles? Remember the proverb, 'Two heads are better than one.'"

"These civilized walls are fading my roses. The mosquitoes, little worse than their nets, are devouring my flesh. I'll--I'll set my cap for the captain of a mountain schooner, and live in a tent the residue of my days. Think you there is one to be found with tastes refined?"

"Ay, there's the rub, but that little wagon attached to the schooner is just the place for a gipsy like you."

At length the nomad despaired of regaining her lost roses in the valley of Sacramento; so she took the steamer Yosemite for the city which sits between the beautiful bay and the peaceful ocean. Among the passengers there was a lady almost beautiful; her manner was charming, and she spoke French, English and Spanish with elegance and facility. We had an intensely interesting conversation. She gave me her card, and intimated that she would like to have mine. My experience with the lady of diamond notoriety, who proved to be a gambler, and the avenger induced me to be very cautious. Subsequently, I heard of my interesting companion on the Yosemite as a stage debutante. I know her to be an elegant lady--I believe her to be a modest one, and often since have I longed to see her once more. Here we met some of our quondam acquaintances at St. Joseph. We had, at our last meeting, expected to sell our outfits, upon which we had expended thousands in currency, for the same amount in gold. We now enjoyed (something like enjoying bad health) a grim smile over the delusion. We found mules cheaper than provender. In fact, our chance acquaintance was now buying horses which had sold the fall previous at from three to five hundred dollars in gold, for thirty dollars per dozen, and sending them to Salt-Lake City, at which place he subsequently realized that amount upon each animal. When the horses were starting off for the Mormon Mecca, the herdsman made much ado over five or six refractory brutes, which refused to keep company with their mates. "Pshaw, man, come along without them," cried Mr. ----, "what's five or six horses!"

{centered} CHAPTER XXXI. {CENTERED} THE OCCIDENT AND THE ORIENT.

THE morning after my arrival at San Francisco, my California mother (God bless her) again embraced me, saying she could scarcely wait for me to make my appearance, so great was her impatience to see me and talk of lang syne. We had fish for breakfast, of course, San Francisco boasting of the finest fish-market in the world. My appetite was at fault; curiosity in regard to the neat-looking Mongolian who officiated as major-domo, having possibly tripped it up. As I, however, began gradually to see behind the curtain, I caught it back again, and in a month, received so many compliments upon my rejuvenation, that there seemed a prospect of my being mistaken for Brooks' sister. Oh! ye bracing zephyrs from the spicy isles of the far-off Orient, I love you; though ye did buffet me, and pelt me, it was with rose leaves from the girdle of Hygeia, and I bless you. But to return to the child of the Celestial Empire, between whom and myself there was an interchange of curiosity, he regarding me as the embodiment of verdancy. He had a remarkably pleasant face for his race, and was as sharp as the traditional Yankee,--money rivaling Josh in his affections. For some time, he regarded me with evident interest. At length he said, with an air of such Asiatic innocence as I shall not soon forget, "You no likee me?"

"Oh, yes, I like you very much, Ah Ching."

"Den whar for you no eatee breakfas? You no likee China cook. You no sabbe me?"

"Yes," I said, "you very good boy, good cook," I replied, unconsciously imitating him.

Evidently he was anxious to enlighten the poor, benighted barbarian, to show off his trans-Pacific accomplishments. He contrived to place his ironing in my way. You should have seen his little black eyes, which glistened like black diamonds, as he threw from his capacious mouth a shower of mist rivaling the spray of Niagara, over the linen. "Surely you don't let him spit on your pocket-handkerchiefs that way," I exclaimed.

Mrs. B. laughed, saying, we had our washing done at the laundry some time; then we took our clothing just as we found it, and so lost sight of the process. They did not tell me then, but I learned subsequently that some lady of San Francisco, who boasted very much of her biscuit, chanced to get up rather earlier than usual one morning and discovered that her cook was sprinkling the water into the biscuit just as he sprinkled the clothes for ironing. This much they did intimate, i. e., that no one who had crossed the plains need turn up their noses at Chinamen.

"Oh, but one eats clean dirt on the plains," I rejoined; "moreover, you naturally become suspicious, because you know you've had your peck."

It is now ten o'clock, scarcely time for Boreas to enter the arena, so we set out for Montgomery Street. Lilian was persuaded to accompany us. Our mother said, "Lilian, you must not give up to your anxiety so completely. That very friend of Mr. Grattan's who brought him to see you in the carriage that day, had mountain fever, and lingered for months on the verge of the grave, but is as robust as ever now." True, people get very sick here, but when once they get up, the bracing air soon restores them to health. No countryman ever gazed upon city sign literature with more abandon than I viewed the sights and scenes along San Francisco's Fifth Avenue.

"Look! look," cried Marion, my princess of hospitality, "see those bricks."

"Bricks!" I repeated, a little bewildered; "are bricks a curiosity here?"

"I supposed they would be to you," she replied.

"Bricks! Why wasn't I raised under bricks?"

"Not gold and silver bricks," she rejoined.

"Oh, that alters the case."

I looked, and sure enough there stood a dray beside the Mint and men were pitching out bullion, as carelessly almost as they handle pig-lead at Galena.

"There, isn't that a tasteful toilet?" said Marion.

The lady wore a black cashmere shawl embroidered and trimmed with deep guipure lace, a grey poplin ornamented with black lace and velvet; lace bonnet with pink roses and ribbons. There, look again, at that superb Russian sable, worn nearly all the year round, but so are lace mantles--the sun sometimes shining and the breezes blowing so gently that a window of heaven seems to have been left open: in the same day the winds will blow so furiously that the sable is deliciously grateful. There goes Mrs. ---, in her camel's hair shawl, and that lady who bowed to me just now, recently sent a Confederate officer a diamond ring, intimating that he had her permission to sell it. In case he needed the money, Tucker would give him three hundred dollars coin for it. But that it might be better to retain it, as it might procure his ransom some time.

"Did you see that pale lady in widow's weeds as she passed? There, quick! look at that superb velvet cloak trimmed with real lace and jet. New Almaden quick-silver mines--my friend was so fluent and my nomadic mind so lost in mazes, that I mentally groped, as it were, to the conclusion that the feminine who wore the cloak was attached by affinity to some masculine of the quick-silver notoriety.

"But who was the lady in mourning weeds?" I inquired, remembering her face despite the confusion reigning within my mental optics.

"She is the widow of that hero who refused surgical attentions, after he received his death-wound, saying his presence upon the battle-field was worth more to his country than his life. A shame upon those who bear the name of Southron everywhere that she should toil for the bread which sustains his children.

"Come," said my friend, "step into this car."

I obeyed, and in a few moments we found ourselves among the Orientals. Pork was the only meat displayed in the butcher's stalls. Chickens are, however, so tempting to them, that the rights of property are entirely overlooked in their case. And woe be unto the luckless hen-coops and chicken-roosts upon which the Mongolian feasts his almond-shaped eyes. We stood for some time beside the windows looking in upon them--to their amusement--as they ate rice with chop-sticks, or wooden knitting-needles, as we would have called them, or ironing with fire in sauce-pans. Others were deftly fluting the frills of the dainty skirts, which, along Montgomery Street, challenged our admiration.

To our pleasure we here met Mr. Armat, whom curiosity had conducted to the same place. He had heard nothing of Roland's illness, having just come down from Lake Tahoe. So at once he began rallying Miss Lilian upon her appearance.

"You scarcely seem so bright and beautiful as you looked in Austin. Excuse me, I would say you look less bright but more beautiful."

Tears came to poor Lilian's eyes. Whereupon we told him that she was breaking her heart with grief and anxiety.

"Oh," replied he, lightly, "that mountain fever is nothing. True, it is severe at the time, but so many outlive it after long lingering spells. I have a cousin in this city," continued Mr. Armat, turning to me, "who has spent ten years in China, and he predicts that these people, of whom there are teeming millions, will eventually become the serving population of the whole United States. Already they have penetrated to Nevada and Montana. It is notorious that they are the best economists of their class in the world. And for this reason they can afford to work for less."

"They make excellent servants," interposed Marion. "True, you see no great displays of neatness along here, but yet such is their love of money, that they will with incredible facility acquire any habit that pleases an employer. Wherever they find anything, when you first engage them, there they will forever keep it. One of my friends was moving into a new house, when she engaged a fresh Chinaman. Things were of course strewn around promiscuously. I have often heard her say since, that, after laughing herself almost sick at his curious displays of local memory, she was compelled to discharge him, because of that same propensity to place things where he found them.

"When we first engaged Ale Ching it was a week before we could teach him the proper place for the broom, because he chanced to find it out of place and upside down when he came."

Five or six Chinese women now came by. Their waterfalls were worthy of observation, since they differed materially from the Parisian style; not running down smoothly as the waters of Yuba mill-dam, of which classic scholars in the present day have all heard, but jutting out suddenly as the stream from a fire-engine. They had also another advantage of the Occidental damsels, as they sustained the character of Water Nymph throughout: each shoe in fact resembling a miniature canoe. Indeed as they walked along, not side by side, but in single file, they bore no inapt resemblance to a flock of ducks, with the tails of roosters swimming one after the other--for which appearance they were mainly indebted to their waterfalls. Their skirts were short; upper one shortest, and hoopless of course; while some indefinable drapery hung in limp folds from their shoulders. After gazing with utter disregard of all Chesterfieldian tenets upon them, for sometime, Mr. Armat proposed that we should go to North Beach. Again we took the cars, and in a few moments were listening to the breakers' roll. And the language of little Paul Dombey changed the current of my thoughts. "What are the wild waves saying?" was the problem by which my mind was now burdened. Had I indeed seen the ocean and heard the wild waves roar so vividly in my dreams that the scene so far surpassing conception, seemed a familiar one, or was it the divine in human nature recognizing the divine in physical creation?

In the distance was the old Presidio, or Spanish fort. Nearer and distinctly in view, rose Alcatraz Island from the bay. Its grim fortifications, frowning in apparent consciousness of military grandeur, and the merciless breakers which washed its coast, making it, though a romantic spot, rather an undesirable residence for the refractory children of the Republic.

But hark! Who is that laughing? It must be a drunken fellow. Marion laughs, we all laugh: it is an Australian bird. "What's the matter?" cries a voice. The uninitiated look bewilderingly about, the sound comes from above. It is an Australian magpie quoting Mr. Beecher unconsciously. While you are examining the California cinnamon bear, some flutist, probably, strikes up "Pop goes the Weasel." How clear, and wild, and beautiful are his notes, and how well he carries the air! It is the Australian magpie again.

Now for the Willows: the same car takes us up to this charming resort. Nature and her hand-maiden, Art, were certainly thinking of lovers--probably they were in love with each other--when they designed this retreat. The willows grow up and bend over, trailing their long branches upon the ground and forming nooks and bowers so romantic, that the most obdurate bachelor must be tempted to recant, amid scenes so suggestive of love. Mr. Armat asks Lilian if she isn't very sorry Roland is so far away. There are elk, and deer, and bears, and this--what is this? Surely nature has tried her hand at burlesque embodied comicality in this little black, disjointed Australian-monkey, did you call it? Here are the black swans, gracefully sailing over this lakelet, and this cage contains a great armless, wingless biped, which digests nails, and frightens women and children. Indeed, one day he got out of his cage and devoured a lady's dinner before her eyes, without returning the basket or his thanks either.

But what is this? Brooks and Katy, Marion's little fairy girl, have found it: it is another cage of Australian birds. The male is evidently a loyal subject of her Britannic Majesty, since his uniform is scarlet and gold: he also wears a military chapeau with a plume in it, and his mate is a dainty lady in a speckled lawn dress, a white mantle, a red velvet neckerchief, and she wears a plume, which she tosses coquettishly about her as she gives a side-long glance at her lord, or turns to behold the curious featherless biped, who is intruding upon her domestic felicity.

We are back home in time for a five o'clock dinner, and instead of feeling exhausted, we might well attend a party. So bracing is the air in the great city which sits beside the soft sea.

{centered} CHAPTER XXXII. {CENTERED} THE MONGOLIAN ESCULAPIUS WITH THE LAMP OF ALADIN.

ONE day as I was strolling along Montgomery street, in search of something fashionable in the way of a button, I chanced to meet a lady on her way to visit the renowned Doctor Li-Po-Tai. I gladly accepted her invitation to bear her company, for I felt every day as though I was neglecting something I should hereafter regret in not examining more closely the novelties of the city. We entered the consultation-rooms by a dingy hall, through which a stream of from forty to fifty ladies continually poured in and out.

After waiting several hours--they seemed short ones, I was so agreeably entertained by my observations--the Doctor obtained a respite from his male patients and entered our room by a side-door. I was struck with his appearance, detecting a resemblance to my idea of Confucius. It required but a glance to convince me that one of two things in regard to this wonderful nan was true; i. e. he was either superior to any Caucassian I had ever seen, physician, or otherwise, or he used Spalding's glue in the preparation of his toilet. There was no other way under the sun for him to encase himself in his peculiarly-fashioned habiliments, especially down about where his boot-tops would have come had he been costumed a la mode de Paris. He wore a long cue reaching almost to his feet, and a skull-cap, surmounted by a button resembling the knob of a door.

The Doctor, all unconscious of the scrutiny he was undergoing, took his seat beside a table, adjusted a long and curiously-fashioned pipe in his mouth, procured a little cushion with dragon's claws all over it, requested the patient to place her hand upon the cushion, felt her right and then her left pulse, closed his eyes and delivered his opinion. To the first lady he said:

"Your kidneys is all gone. You has no recuperative power." She moved a little to one side and fainted. Gentlemen carried her out into a hall, remaining around her some time. It occurred to me, meanwhile, that a soothing word from some of her own sex might be of service, so I slipped my petite figure through the gaps in the masculine railing around her, and bending down whispered some simple words, which had the effect of causing her to smile and open her eyes.

The words were these: "I hope you did not believe one single word that old humbug uttered."

"He is a onfeelink mon," she replied.

Her surroundings all disappeared now, except the stake to which she was lashed for life; so I sat awhile agreeing with him in anathematizing every lost man of medicine, who would presume to number any mortal's days. Returned to the consulting-room, to hear him tell some lady she was "very much rack, too much rack for one so young." Another, with her pulse on the cushion, was told she had "no blood in liver, no blood in lungs, no blood in heart." No wonder there was a concentration of it in her face. One remarked that her physician had recommended her to "apply fourteen leeches to her spine." "I would consult the Celestial too," thought I, "before fastening fourteen blood-suckers upon my anatomy."

The Doctor now observed, "I have very much bad cases to-day."

"Yes, Doctor," rejoined a sprightly little lady, sipping a cup of bitterest tea, prepared under the Doctor's supervision, "none apply to you but old chronic cases whom other physicians have given up."

"I have very much bad women cases, to-day," continued the benign-looking son of the Sun. He asked one lady of a certain age--which Byron says means certainly aged--her age. She whispered it so low, that I doubt whether he heard.

Presently I slipped my hand upon the magical cushion, as consultations were free. After feeling both pulses, he said, "Oh, I gif you mecines take home wid you." I could see by his countenance he thought lightly of my case. He meditated awhile, and resumed, "I take you in private room."

"Oh! no, no, Doctor," I replied, "I am not aware of the existence of any mortal malady in my system; I only thought I would consult you and be certain." So many were pressing upon him he paid no attention to my impertinence. I remarked to my friend that the majority of the people there appeared to be of the ordinary type.

"All classes come," was her reply, scarcely uttered, when a fashionably-attired and lady-like person entered, accosting my companion thus: "You did not tell me you came here. Come on the sly, do you?" Jocose remarks followed. Again we listened to the Doctor. To one he said, "Blood too tick, blood too tin;" to another, "Too tin in heart, too tick in kidney;" to a third, "You havee husband?" "Yes." "You havee babee?" "No." "Your blood too tin; your blood git tick, den you havee babee." The night following my visit, he fainted from exhaustion at four o'clock in the morning--having been continually engaged day and night, until nature rebelled against ill-usage. At this time he had three or four hundred patients under his care, each paying him from ten to twenty dollars a week for advice and treatment. Thus it will be seen that Dr. Li-Po-Tai is blessed with an income which may be set down in round numbers as amounting to $15,000 a month, consultation fee in advance, and no money loaned over the counter. "Think of it--picture it--is the mind of man adequate to grasp the subject?" so wrote one of the city journalists, concluding thus: "As you may well imagine, our regular physicians are very much incensed at the tide of practice which has set in towards Li-Po-Tai, who is neither a graduate of any known college, nor yet the seventh son of the seventh son of a gun. If ever he is taken sick, it will probably be safer for him to put in practice the satirical injunction, 'Physician, heal thyself!' than take any prescription that might be ordered by the faculty, as otherwise he might lose his fifteen thousand a month. So great has been his success that numerous rivals have set up, and the shingles of Wo-Tsuen-Yuen and Wing-Lung, may be seen over their respective doors. My own impression is, that members of the regular profession are disguising themselves as Chinamen, and endeavoring to avail themselves of the sudden current. I never pass the office of two friends of mine without looking to see the old-time signs displaced, and Tchar-Hitch-Kok or Geo-Feo-Wood-Ward displayed in their stead." Before leaving Dr. Li-Po-Tai, I visited his laboratory; saw sundry tea-pots, with mysterious characters upon cards attached to their handles, and plodding sons of the central flowery kingdom superintending them. Heard one say to a lady, "Earthquake shake California up, me no caree, California no'long to me." The interpreter, a gentlemanly-looking Americanized subject of Napoleon, explained to a lady who bore the name of Ewing, the signification of her name in the Chinese tongue: "Benevolent, evergreen; benevolent ever-living, everlasting, benevolent." Alas! that a man with such a name should have rivaled the tyrant who drove the Arcadians from their native vales, sending Evangeline and Basil on their weary rounds, roaming the world over, in search of each other. But we have digressed. The interpreter walked round the room, rubbing his hands and talking to the ladies, his services only being called into requisition when a technicality or a dictionary word came to be dissected.

Doctor Li-Po-Tai recommended temperance in health; total abstinence in illness from all indulgences: oysters, fish, vegetables, especially potatoes, fruits, cold water, cold milk, and liquors of all kinds were interdicted. Beefsteak, rice, bread, tea, coffee, and warm water, milk, etc., were to be used ad libitum. His patients, upon hearing these specifications, would make wry faces, whereupon he would exclaim: "When you git well, you eat eberyting you like; when you sick, and take my mecine, you do like I tell you; you no do so you die."

One of Dr. Li-Po-Tai's confreres, about this time, elated by the success of his countryman, catechised a gentleman in this wise: "You drikee whiskee?" "Yes." "You smokee cigar?" "Yes." "You do so no more for ninety days. Now you pay me tirty dollar," said the confident Mongolian.

One day when I was amusing myself with observations of Occidental and Oriental nature, which I found very much the same, subject to slight modifications from education, I saw the parents of a little boy--a distressing looking object--bearing him into the room.

The doctor examined the face of the child with his searching almond-shaped eyes, felt his pulse, alarming the poor boy with his long finger-nails--insignia of rank--bared his bosom, and traced the course of worms, which were preying upon his vitality. The stories I afterwards heard of the monsters expelled were marvelous and sickening.

One person who had traveled over the continents of Europe and America for the cure of consumption, procuring advice from the highest sources to be found in the schools, was entirely relieved by the doctor's vermifuge.

Subsequently I visited Doctor Bing Sung, whose dress and quarters were much more pretentious than those of Dr. Li-Po-Tai. There was also more of my ideas of Oriental elegance in his manners. In truth, I can scarcely imagine how a man accustomed to regard my sex with so little respect as is accorded it by the Chinese, could embody so much of deference, almost reverence in a salutation.

Dr. Bing Sung's patients had the advantage of Dr. Li-Po-Tai's, inasmuch as the former had time to give them proper attention. The grown Asiatic disciple of Esculapius, sat on one side of a centre-table, the interpreter vis-a-vis, and I between the two, Brooks taking items. He felt both pulses, then looked at the clock, saying, "It is now one o'clock, and your pulse should be so and so. You have had cold; you feel chilly." Then pausing to paint some characters with a little brush upon a piece of paper--his manner of writing--he resumed:--"You been in bad health, but you well now. You still suffer many times from chilly sensations; you so cold." Brooks laughed. "I cure you in a year; first gif tea, then pills."

But for the proverbial cupidity of the race, I should have felt highly complimented in the leave-taking. However, I told him I should probably not remain sufficient time upon the Pacific Coast to render it necessary to place myself under his treatment. So after all I believe I will do myself the satisfaction of appropriating the compliment.

There was, I could but think, something of Eastern grace and elegance in his fine blue cloth cloak, handsome cap, with a tassel of silk, and orange-colored silk sash, tastefully tied on one side, as he bowed me out, coming to the bottom step on the outside of the door, and waving me a graceful adieu. Previously, however, he had asked me whether I would entrust Brooks to his care for one evening, as he wished to take him to the Chinese theatre. He promised to send him safely home. I consented. He then gave Brooks two car tickets, bidding him return in the evening.

That young gentleman's account of the performance may not be uninteresting, and as Dr. Bing Sung never beheld this narrative, I trust I am guilty of no breach of courtesy in reproducing it.

"Mamma," said Brooks, "the music went linktata, tinklyte, tinklati, tinktato, tinklatu, tinktyty--and it was so weak and feeble. 'Twasn't one bit like Billy Burch's music at his theatre, (negro minstrels). But mamma, they did swallow knives, sharp knives, and they did'nt cut 'em open neither. Then one with a great long cue, he run out, and another ran after him, and they jabbered and jabbered China. If I had a twisted my tongue into a nest of fishing worms, I could'nt a repeated one word they said. 'Tinna mucka hieni hi yi yi,' is the only China words I know, and Ching has been trying ever since I came here to teach me."

"What does 'Tinna mucka hieni hi yi yi' mean in English, Brooks?"

"Oh! mamma, it is a bad word, a very bad word, it's--it's--d-a-m-n."

"Why, my dear little Brooks, go get some water and wash your mouth, scrape your tongue," said I, smiling in spite of myself.

"Do you know, Brooks, that these Chinese call us barbarians?"

"Call us barbarians, and they worship Josh!" reiterated Brooks indignantly. "You know I went to see Josh with Ching, and, mamma, our washer-man has little tin gods setting all round, like old black mammy's candle sticks."

"What would you think, Brooks, if I should tell you that these Chinamen, even these Coolies, who do our washing, have a trait of character which must go a long way with the good God, toward washing away their sin of idolatry?"

"What can that be, mamma?" cried the child, opening his eyes in incredulity.

"It is their reverence for the aged; for their parents, especially: the young Chinamen will not suffer their parents to work. I have known many who profess to worship one God, who do indeed deserve the name of barbarian at their hands."

"Well then, mamma, if that makes people barbarians, don't you be afraid for me. You know how I love Grandma, and Grandma Wilson too, and how they pet me for it."

One of my friends had a Chinese boy about fifteen, in her service. So faithful was he, and so attached to his mistress, that he would suffer no one, not even her own daughter, to touch any thing about the house, especially in the kitchen and pantry, without watching closely, and threatening to tell. Upon one occasion, he was taken sick. His mistress employed an American physician, who inquired his symptoms. Ah-You shook his head dubiously, saying:

"Melican doctor no goot. Melican doctor ask me what's matter. China doctor tell me what's matter. Feel dim, eh?"

I understood that the medical high dignitaries in the city visited their celestial rivals, endeavoring to learn the secret of their success in diagnosticating by the pulse. Subsequently this was denied. Such a step I think could scarcely have detracted from their dignity, as the countrymen of Confucius must in all these years have made some progress, and certainly, medical science is not so far advanced in our schools, that instruction from any source should be disdained.

I must now conclude my remembrances of the Mongolians with the monkey story of which I made promise in the outset. The parents of a boy, who had some unyielding disease, consulted Dr. Li-Po-Tai, after exhausting the legitimate skill of the city.

The Doctor shook his skull-cap with the big button on the top of it, pronouncing the disorder, as it was commonly called in his country, the monkey disease. So at once he advised them to procure a monkey play-mate for the boy. The monkey, he predicted, would take the disease and die, the boy recover. Accordingly, they borrowed a monkey--the boy improved perceptibly, the monkey died. The father was compelled to pay thirty-five dollars for the lost pet of his neighbor's household. The child relapsed. Another monkey suffered the fate of his predecessor. The boy improved so rapidly by association with his wild companion that the parents were induced to try, but with the same results, the third experiment. Monkey bills were now becoming more fearful than medical bills; so they gave the case up, feeling unable to bear further expense. The child lingered on some months, dying, so said the regular physicians, of heart disease.

Since leaving San Francisco, I have heard that Dr. Li-Po-Tai returned to the paradise of the Celestials, Hong Kong, with a purse filled to repletion by credulous Americans, whom he probably left wiser, if not better men--physically.

For myself, I incline to the belief that the immense ring the Doctor wore on his thumb, was an amulet with powers preservative against burglars and bank-robbers, and that the button, which tipped off the top of his scull-cap so satisfactorily, was a dark lantern on the order of the lamp of Aladin.

{centered} CHAPTER XXXIII. {CENTERED} THE CLIFF AND THE BACHELORS.

I HAD, of course, some acquaintance with the bachelors (who, it appears, have their name up from their numbers, if nothing else), flirtation being acknowledged as one of the legitimate pleasures of travel. There is, indeed, a bountiful crop of them, and they are handsome and gallant. And it is my belief, that ladies, such as have been the boast of America, (whose daughters were treated with more deference than any other women on the face of the globe, because they deserved to be), could, with a glance of the eye, or the sight of the tip of the toe of a slipper, convert them into Benedicts and benedictions. But hear them as they cry, "Spare us, Cupid! spare us, insatiate archer! spare us any more importations from the modern free schools of She-Cargo." One morning, succeeding an evening at the opera, one of these Bohemians said to me, "Will you allow me the pleasure of escorting you to the Cliff House? To-morrow morning, at eight o'clock, quite early for me, I will come up, and we will have a drive through the sea air, which will give us a relish for the French breakfast we get at the Cliff." To-morrow morning came, and as we drove along, the bracing zephyrs from the snowy mountains were greeting the rosy daughters of the spice-laden isles of the Levant, when, for the first time, I beheld {indented, smaller font, poem stanza} "That glorious mirror wherein the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time Calm or convulsed--in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, Dark heaving,--boundless, endless, and sublime-- The image of eternity--the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest for the dread fathomless Alone."

We sat awhile in the veranda, watching the wild waves dancing over the bounding deep, and dashing themselves into diamonds of spray against the rocks which lay in their way. Breakfast was announced; the Bohemian glass and silverware were resplendent; and the dishes dainty enough to set before the king. At each plate were three sets of silver knives and forks. We had fish and sauce, boiled quail, and California beefsteak (equal at any time to venison), with mushrooms, delicate muffins, French rolls, tea, coffee and claret. But the most enchanting feature of the table was the bouquet of Escolsias, or California poppies, smiling in all the glory of their native golden magnificence. Presently, the monsters of the deep came out by thousands, sunning themselves upon the rocks which jut up like immense sugar-loaves, to the height of eighty feet above the water. My escort had provided himself with superb opera-glasses, and we could see them climbing up to the very apex, like the lazy loafers they were, lounging around the corners. Later, a magnificent monster came up to survey the scene. The garçon said to my friend, "See, monsieur, ze great beass, ze king oo beass--Ben Butler is his name. He is out earlier than usual to-day. See, he is larger than an ox." A short time since a whale had washed ashore at this place, and its bones were being dried for commerce. We drove for miles along the strand, the waves toying with the carriage wheels. My Bohemian friend said at length, "You are so fond of Nature, in her lofty moods, you should see Yosemite and the big trees. I have visited them; but if you will go, it will afford me pleasure to accompany you. We cannot start earlier than the last of June or the first of July, as the snows in the Sieras render the way impassable; then," he said, "You will go with me?"

"Yes, I am anxious to go; but we expect to sail in May."

"Your visit will be very unsatisfactory without seeing those places. In a few years they will be the resort of pleasure-seekers the world over. At Yosemite there is a rift in the rocks five thousand feet high, over which the rivers unite and flow; this water falls over turrets of gray, brown and white rock, in ribbons and mists, like the veils of illusion you ladies wear; and the name Bridal Veil has sometimes been given to it. Even the unthinking horse will stop and prick up his ears, and testify that he is impressed with the wonders around him. It seems originally to have been a vast granite mountain, which has been rent asunder by some grand convulsion, leaving its more than perpendicular castellated walls a monument of the power of One who must have shaken the everlasting hills, and caused the globe itself to reel and stagger when He made it. There are cedars and pines, and a carpet of green grass, and from some points of view, the pictured city of San Francisco has been seen." I looked my incredulity. "Have you not seen the mirage which deludes the traveler over the desert?"

"Oh, yes, frequently in crossing the plains I have been deceived by these optical illusions."

"But what are verbal portraits of scenery worth? Nothing. You must see it. Will you go?"

"Yes, indeed I will."

He paused awhile, and then he said, "Would you think it necessary to consult your mother?"

"My mother! Yes, I believe it is customary upon such occasions. What, are you proposing to start upon a life-long voyage via Yosemite?"

"You are very slow to comprehend, for one usually so quick," he replied. "And then we will see the big trees," he continued, "thirty-two feet in diameter, think of it! the size of a small house, and so perfectly proportioned that you lose sight of their immensity. They are all named in the Caleveras forest, and the old maid is leaning perceptibly toward the old bachelor. If it was a certain lady now she wouldn't treat him so well."

"Out upon your flatteries. Did you tell Mrs. Harden the other day that you abhorred children?"

In a moment his face was scarlet. "I--I--" he stammered.

"You have heard of one Murdstone, haven't you?"

"Murdstone!" he repeated.

"Yes, of Brooks, of Sheffield notoriety."

He stopped at the Willows for a glass of champagne and drove home. The next evening he took Brooks to the hippotheatre, and treated him to ice-cream and strawberries.

About this time we were invited to the birthday festival of Miss Jessie H----. The dinner was prepared by Leland, of the Occidental. Anything further in its praise would amount to tautology. At table we were comparing the fruits and vegetables of California with those of the older States. Some contended that the changing seasons were preferable to the perpetual autumn of the Pacific coast. They also thought our apples, which are as much superior to theirs as their peaches, grapes, berries, etc., are to ours, were an off-set to all their fruits, and our blue grass, to which they are a stranger, was worth numberless California equivalents. Said General W., "You have never seen our wild oats and wild mustard. These oats are quite equal to those you raise, with so much labor in the States, and here they grow everywhere spontaneously."

"Why, General," said a lady at the board, "you surprise me! I thought everybody had heard of our abundant crops of wild oats."

"Wild oats! Why, madam, I have lived in Virginia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Missouri, and New York, and I never so much as heard of a blade of wild oats. You are mistaken, quite."

"Begging your pardon, General," rejoined the lady, "we have luxuriant crops; but, since I think of it, they are sown by the young gentlemen."

{centered} CHAPTER XXXIV. {CENTERED} REMINISCENCES.

AMONG the attractive features of San Francisco, I must not omit to mention its architectural beauty--Harrison Street, upon which we lived, rivaling the famed Clinton Avenue of Brooklyn or Michigan Avenue of Chicago.

In a country in which fuscias climb to the house eaves, leaving a shower of scarlet bells behind them, rose geraniums acquire the stature of crab-apple trees; and the tractable, bright-varnished ceonophas becomes an arch over your gateway, a pyramid, an obelisk, a bower, or a hedge, where roses are called lilies, vegetable sea-shells as they are, smile as brightly in December as May--why should not beauty brighten man's pathway? Another noticeable feature is the number of houses upon which one sees placards announcing rooms "to let." Many thus domiciled take their meals at restaurants. Reverting one day to some of our culinary vicissitudes during our life in tents, it occurred to me that this must be a charming way to live. I was induced to try it, but concluded that the vast number of suicides and lunatics one hears of, and even sees in California, was attributable to this mode of life. Glad enough was I to lay my head in my California mother's lap, and beg her to take me in out of the cold. Notwithstanding the hard times, of which great complaint was made, houses were going up everywhere. Nor was it any uncommon sight to see them moving through the streets, and with the people in them sewing or knitting or pursuing their ordinary avocations. In this connection I shall borrow the reminiscences of the elegant writer and accomplished gentleman, quoted in the preceding chapter. Would the heavenly muse but deign to inspire me with a mental offering worthy to cancel the obligation, I would make a bonfire, erect an altar, placing upon it all my velvets and laces and silks and jewels--relics though they be of the old regime--and with my own hand apply the sacrificial torch, should they require such a propitiatory oblation.

{centered, small caps} REMINISCENCES.

In a former letter I told you how the houses of this town had a singular habit of sliding around from place to place, and disappearing suddenly. But the truth of the statement was fully impressed upon me when, after dining at the old Louisiana Rotissary one day, I went there for breakfast the next morning or morning after and found every vestige of the building gone and men digging the cellar for an immense brick edifice. And now I notice that the old Tehama house has tipped its anchor from the corner of California and Sansome Streets, where it has been moored since '51, to go cruising about the streets, finally bringing up in some out-of-the-way place, where it will feel strangely not at home. Originally christened Jones' Hotel, it was built by a gentleman of that name for Captain Folsom, in the winter of '50-'51, at the corner where it so long stood, standing then on piles and on the very edge of the bay, so that passengers had to be brought to its doors in boats. It escaped the great fire of '51, and was opened on the 20th of May, 1852, as the swell hotel of the coast. Captain Folsom being of the regular-army service, it was always a sort of military headquarters, having given the shelter of its roof to Generals Clark, Sumner, Sherman, Grant, Hooker, Parks, Ingalls, McClellan, McPherson, Gibson, Allen; as well as to the rebel Generals Magruder, Whiting, Fauntleroy and Mickle. Admiral Farragut has taken his meals there, and Captain Semmes, beneath its little square tables, has stretched the length of his piratical legs. It was there that Derby, the Squibob and Phœnix of immortal humor and illustrious memory, collated the papers of "Phœnixiana;" there three McDougalls, a Governor, a General and a Commodore have had their homes. It has also been distinguished by the stamp of the tripod, for there the first and only Editorial Convention of the State was held; and there John Nugent lay wounded after the first illustration of his favorite idea that an editor was bound to fight every one who asked him to. From off its veranda Colonel Woodcliffee stepped when he went out to fight a duel, from which he never returned; in one of its low-ceiled rooms McNulty shot himself, and Dr. Hill sought, by poison, the mouldering portals of the suicide's grave; there the first transaction was made in Ophir, murder, suicide, love, swindling--what crime, what tragedy, or what delight, have not its walls witnessed? Along the sounding floors of its embowered verandahs, the gay young officer has promenaded, breathing his love into willing ears; there, too, has oft been told the tale of guilty passion, and women's souls have been bartered like children's toys. Men's hearts have been broken, and no record have the corridors preserved; and down upon scenes that might split the plants and make an infidel of Abraham, the walls have looked, yet are they dumb as the pyramids, and not a syllable is theirs. It is said that walls have ears--a blessed thing it is, indeed, that they have not tongues as well.

Those who think, if indeed any there be, that your Californian has any sense of new countryism, of out-of-the-wayism or provincialism, are much in the dark. Indeed they more complacently lay claim to somewhat of classicality than any new people on the face of the globe. In fact, most of those I saw would proudly have proclaimed their State sovereignty upon the dome of St. Peter's or in the Champ Elisage. Since I left, however, they do say the earthquake has shaken down their corner lots, and their conceit as well. In this I do most sincerely offer my sympathies, conjuring them to bear it philosophically. The gnomes and goblins down below have but given them a scare, while we have but lately lulled to his rest the demon who slayed his millions right in our midst.

{centered} CHAPTER XXXV. {CENTERED} AZRAEL'S WING.

AND, this brings us to a bright morning, when we were pleasantly communing with our little friend, Mrs. Steel, but whether she came that day in the form of a needle or pen, we cannot at this instance remember. Be that as it may, Marion interrupted our gossip by rushing wildly into the room with gardening gloves, and disordered locks, and great, lustrous, staring eyes, with their pupils almost inverted, looking like a waning moon; she gasped for breath, and at last by fits and starts her words came out. And they were these:--

"The Southern Confederacy has gone up!"

"Surely, Marion," I replied, "surely but quietly we all knew, when our great Captain and our mighty man of valor was brought low, that all was lost, save honor. Don't you remember when the school-teacher told all the children who rejoiced over the tidings of victory to give three cheers, how our little Brooks burst into a cry, sobbing his poor little heart out, while other boys were sounding their pæans to the conqueror?"

"Oh, Archie, Archie!" gasped Marion, "why will you be so obtuse! The lightning has brought the direful tidings that our President and Premier have been assassinated. Mr. Lincoln is dead, Mr. Seward mortally wounded. The streets of New York and St. Louis are flowing in blood."

"Then, indeed, are our altars and our firesides gone," I replied, and my thoughts were of home and of mother. Hastily I tied on my bonnet, the one with the fading roses, and hurriedly I rushed through the streets. The air seemed laden with almost visible angels, who were softly murmuring--H-u-s-h! hush! At length I reached the minister's house. He met me at the threshold, and I saw the words, "The hand of the Lord is upon us; his judgments are abroad in the land," as plainly engraved upon his brow as though they had been stamped in characters of fire. Presently another came, a beautiful black-eyed friend. She was thinking not of herself, but of her husband. "Surely," said she, "it was a private grievance which prompted the deed. Our people are a brave and a magnanimous people, and such can have no complicity in a deed so dastardly and yet so startling and brilliant. Where will you find its like?"

There were low-muttered thunderings upon the street, and a spark would have set the lightning of passion in a blaze. Palaces and cottages, and poor men's cabins were draped in mourning. Upon the princely residence of a banker there was a streamer of white drapery, merely looped with roses of crape, as though its owner was in doubt as to the depth of the calamity. There was another mansion, fit for a king, and it was draped in folds of deepest woe. And as I passed along the street I saw crape dangling from the ribs of a skeleton skirt; and shrewd Jews and sharper Yankees vieing with each other in cheating the newspaper man by making an advertising medium of the emblems of woe.

Mephistophe Hoodwinking Azrael and my friend came, saying, "Go with me to the corner of Montgomery and Market Streets; there I have secured a seat for you in the office of a physician, a friend, and from his windows we will view the grandest funeral procession the continent has witnessed."

As we stood upon the balcony, the band came, wailing forth its dirge-notes upon the peaceful ocean strand as well as beside the stormy Atlantic. Then came citizens on foot--lawyers in their black broadcloth and elegant attire. But stop, what is that strange sight? a negress, in a turban of yellow cloth, a dress of linsey-woolsey, and a stuff apron, is leisurely parading beside them.

"What does that mean?" says Marion.

In times like these, who can say what such flitting shadows may typify? Possibly it read thus: "With the emancipation of her race and their assertion of rights of equality, begins a reign of lawlessness. And these mighty men, learned in the mysteries of law, may keep to their posts upon the watch-towers of our Zion, or we shall be lost in chaos."

But as the band again wailed forth its death-song--such a medley is life--that I heard one say:

"See you that old bugler, blowing his trumpet there in the band? Last year that man put sixty thousand dollars in a Mexican mine: to-day he is blowing those blasts for bread."

Then came by the merchants, the doctors, the board of brokers--and another said, "See you those money-changers? Well, all the diablerie they do not know, his majesty cares nothing about." But here are the marshals of the day on their superb chargers with their brilliant insignia of rank. And what is this? It is the catafalco--splendid in its dimensions and deep drapery of sorrow, but with bier of scarlet velvet and gold, worthy of an ancient monarch. Slowly it passes us by. And this? Oh! surely, my poor little democratic eyes will be exhausted with staring. This is an elegant phaeton in which are seated the representatives of Napoleon the great, the mysterious man of whom all the world says, "There is none like unto him." These are the naval officers, in part, and the consuls of different nations in court dress, brilliant with glittering medals and crosses of the legion of honor. Verily, until this moment, I knew not how imposing was outward adornment. And here come the Chinese nobility, proxies of the brother to the Sun and Moon, in long cues and flowing silken robes and equipage of State. Of a truth the very ends of the earth have met to do homage to this man. And who is he? Born in obscurity, born without a name, the maul and the wedge befit his escutcheon. Gradually he ascends to the temples of law. Anon, he wears the senator's robes. Lastly, we behold him seated amid men born to thrones and sceptres. His enemies, even the proud Southrons, he tramples under his feet. But who says that character is not destiny? He jested when others were dying, he died amid jesting. In his capital it was notorious that the portals of heaven were closed, and the very gates of hell were opened, when widows and orphans were wailing.

He died in a gambling-house, attended by a reputed daughter of Bacchante. He liberated the happiest peasantry on the face of the earth, giving in place of the comforts of home, delusions for pillows, and the world's cold charity for coverings. And his minions ran before his chariot-wheels, crying aloud, "Hallelujah! Amen, praises be forevermore to the saviour of the sons of Ham." And forthwith they go up and down the highways selling counterfeit presentments of his apotheosis, in which Washington is represented in the act of crowning him as he ascends to heaven with a scroll, supposed to be the emancipation proclamation, in his hands. The scroll, in my own humble opinion, more properly represents the programme of "Our American Cousin."

He thinks he has restored the union. He goes forth with his queen to listen to his favorite jests: she is arrayed in flowing robes with jewels, and a brilliant boquet of flowers crowning her republican brow. Surely, what drama is this? sounding the RESTORATION OF THE GREATEST GOVERNMENT UPON WHICH THE SUN EVER SHONE. As I live it is a tissue of slang. The ladies are in full toilet, the officers in the glittering livery of Mars. The band is playing, its notes gayly, wildly careering through space. The disciples of the Drama are jubilant. The conscious favorite, the buffoon, makes his entrée. In return for the compliment paid him, he paraphrases the play. "That," says he, "reminds me of a little joke." The house is convulsed at the happy allusion. But, hark! hist! a pistol-shot--Is it a part of the play? No, a thousand times no! HE HAS FALLEN. The assassin, with the beauty of Apollo, stands upon the historic stage, boldly brandishing his dagger. Slowly come forth the words, "Sic semper tyrannis," from lips attuned to historic parts. Low comedy becomes high tragedy. Anon, the world echoes "Sic transit gloria mundi." The brief reign of comedy is over. All, all, is tragedy. Moloch is not yet appeased. Human sacrifices must still go up to be devoured by the Radical god.

"Surely my people have been trodden in the wine-press of the Lord." But the end is not yet. Another inexplicable man stands at the helm. A world is gazing in hope and wonder upon him. Could but a corner of the mystic vail of futurity have been uplifted, disclosing him as he ran a little sharp-pointed instrument into an ebony bureau with pandora-box compartments, blowing it into fragments right in the midst of its astounded votaries, many a pang would have been spared the people. He has proved himself a giant, but he is battling with giants drunk with the blood and spoils. Come to the rescue, O, ye mothers! let go every thing and teach your children virtue; for the Lord is coming, in the majesty of His wrath He is coming. If He comes not in the wind, He will come in the earthquake; if He comes not in the earthquake, He will come in the fire; if He comes not in the fire, He will come in the still small voice summoning all, both great and small, before the judgment throne. Mothers, He will require a nation at your hands. If you teach not your daughters the priceless worth of virtue, then your sons will go astray. The horrors of Babylon, that great city with the name so terrible that my feminine-pen refuses to trace it, are upon us. Rise, ye fathers! and shake off your lethargy: let not this great black shadow, more fearful than the death-angel's wing, enter your temple doors. Surely, we deserve to be trodden in the wine-press of the Lord, for we have abused our blessings, have gone astray. But we have never set up gods of our own, nor have we made unto ourselves strange gods: we have stood like the publican afar off, not so much as lifting our eyes to heaven, but smiting upon our breasts and crying, "God be merciful unto us, for we are sinners!" And thou hast inspired our leaders, even our great captains, and our mighty men of valor, such as the world never saw, with thy precepts. They have converted their swords into plough-shares and pruning-hooks, and are saying, "Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's." But the terrible shadow still haunts us. Grant, O most high God, to inspire our women with wisdom, and our men with courage to rise to the help of Andrew Jackson, (the name is miss-spelled, but not amiss in significance), he of the iron nerve, and shake it from us.

And Azrael gradually lifted the shadow of his wing from the city with the golden portals, which sits between the sea and the bay. Time is passing; the angel is folding over the scroll whereon the deeds of mortal men are written, and how fares it with the widowed queen, queen of the king whose loss the ends of the earth have met to deplore. Does she take the bouquet from the top of her head, and in sack-cloth and ashes bewail and lament the loss of the love of her youth, the father of her children; or goes she westward, in a car of state, followed by forty car-loads of furniture, dowry bequeathed by Uncle Sam, and befitting the wife of the man who sat in the seat of Washington? Do shrewd New Yorkers and sharper Bostonians itinerate from door to door, calling upon Northron and Southron, Eastron and Westron, to subscribe a mite to create a fund wherewith to endow the widow of the man who sat in the seat of Jefferson, so she can cancel those little bills for bouquets to adorn the top of her head, and fancy costumes to grace regattas which precede battles such as Manassas? Such a step would become the spouse of the man who sat in the seat of Jackson. You have looked upon that picture, now look upon this:--While Azrael stood with one foot upon the land and the other upon the sea, slaying his millions, there arose a mighty captain, one of Nature's kings; and he flashed like a meteor over the valleys, scattering his enemies to the right and the left; only pausing to bow his knee, in humble prayer before Almighty God. And one such prayer is worth to a nation ten billion times Ben Butler's gains. How fares it with the wife of his bosom, and the pledge of his love, the widowed queen--queen of the man at whose deeds the world blew its loudest blasts with the trumpet of fame, and whose death even his enemies said, was a sufficient oblation to sanctify any cause? Friends from afar send her gold, saying it is but a shadow of what we owe the heirs of the man who honored our name; but take it, we will do better another time. Now, O all ye who fling our vaunted pride in our teeth! hear what our representative says: "Your offering does you honor, and I thank you; but we have bread, and cannot accept money: for his deeds of daring were the patriot's deeds. Leave us to heaven." And voices from our hills and vales everywhere echo the refrain. Even from far-western Texas one writes: "By the sweat of my brow I can now earn bread, and I decline your kind offers, my friends." Now taunt us with pride and with chivalry; the ordeal is passed. We have been trodden in the wine-press of the Lord; we have been burnished as the diamond under the lapidary; we have been sifted as wheat; we have been weighed in a balance, but we have not been found WANTING! The stars in their courses have fought against us, but the end is not yet. Time was, time is, but time shall be no more!

{centered} CHAPTER XXXVI. {CENTERED} SANTA CLARA.

ONE day there was a beautiful vision seen standing upon our door-step on Rincon Hill. It wore a blue silk dress, blue ribbons upon a straw hat, blue flowers, and had blue eyes and golden hair. And this being--for she was not all fairy--touched the harp with the fire of genius. I sat and listened to her notes, and lost myself in a dream of blue-eyed angels chanting love-songs. Possibly her beauty was brighter and her songs were sweeter, that she had so lately bowed before the Crucifix. She broke the spell, by addressing me thus: "Go with me, to the beautiful valley of Santa Clara; there I have a little cottage, with roses of gold and lilies of purple; the bright ceonophas and the feathery leaves of the roseate tamerisk blossom around it. I have also a gentle horse and a carriage which I drive myself, and I will take you through the old Almaden of Willows, and show you the Paradise of earth. Moreover, we will go to the Quicksilver Mines of New Almaden, the richest in the world." But Marion said: "Wait until next week, and I will go with you: to-night, remember, we go to hear Sconscia in Traviata, and two days after Adelaide Phillips in Il Trovatore. We are invited to a pic-nic on Alcatily Island; to that we must go, and if Archie escapes its grim frowning walls, we'll come next Wednesday, and bring Lilian with us, provided she will go." At the Opera House, I beheld such an array of beauty and taste as I have seldom seen in any theatre. If I should say I was charmed with the syren Sconscia, there are those who would at once conclude that I was no judge of music, not from any deficiency in the arts of the artist, but for the obvious reason that critics are invariably judges. The fact that every one can criticise, though every one can by no means execute, is not appreciated. {centered, small letters.} "A man must serve his time to every trade Save censure--critics all are ready made." I must say she was far more pleasing as Camille than the American Camille, as she calls herself. That she should attract crowded houses in New York for sixty nights, is one of those mysteries beyond the ken of unsophisticated mortals such as myself. Can it be that Mrs. Siddons was a humbug, and was Rachel merely the fashion? but there it is again, alas! poor human nature--"Critics all are ready made." One thing I can say for the San Franciscans--i. e., in public, they are pinks of propriety; indeed, I have never seen more orderly or more elegantly-dressed assemblies anywhere. It was said that the Keans appeared in tawdry finery the first evening in San Francisco, but that the audience so completely dazzled their Anglican optics, that their forty tons of baggage was upset from bottom to top for their second appearance. During the evening, a gentleman of Falstaffian proportions seated himself a slight distance from us. My Bohemian friend whispered: "That is one of the richest men on the continent of America, and a bachelor." I affected to finger the roses in the face of my opera bonnet, and turning to my escort said: "Do you think there is any prospect of a conquest for me in that quarter?" "No," he replied, "not the ghost of a chance; he is not such a Muggins as I." Upon one of those mornings when a window of heaven seemed to have been left ajar, we got in a fishing smack and sailed across the bay to Alcatias. The gallant commander treated us with all that grace and elegance of manner for which his race has been so distinguished, and intimated that we might say what we pleased, he was not one of those who made war upon a class whose most dangerous weapons were the arrows of Cupid. As a matter of course, we were not pleased to say anything that was not pleasant. Some of the gentlemen of the party were, however, so suspicious, as to remark that the gallant commander had an eye for beauty, and was in hopes his encouragement might give rise to language the penalty of which was imprisonment. As there were a number of ladies in company, nothing personal could be extracted from this conclusion, very natural for one of his class; so, after a day to be remembered, we set sail for the city. Wednesday morning, our Bohemian friend sent a carriage to take us to the depot for the San Jose cars, with an apology for not appearing in personâ propriâ. The morning was cool, and as we flew over the iron rails, the flowers seemed more thickly embroidered upon Nature's bright carpet than upon the fabrics of Brussels. And the wind-mills--for they raise the water with the wind--and, to use a figure of speech, they in turn "raise the wind" with the water in this country, added no little to the picturesqueness of the scene. What a blessed thing it is, indeed, to have the rain in due season, as it comes to us at home! This matter of irrigation is a troublesome business. People ought to have roses all the year round, and vegetable monsters and anomalies, who are compelled to force the wind to raise the water, and the "water to raise the wind." Appreciatez-vous, reader mine? well, l'importe; it is borrowed coin, and your loss, not mine. There was a pic-nic party for San Matteao in the cars, and a party of gentlemen with piscatorial equipments for Santa Cruz. Here again was the ubiquitous Bohemian; but this time he was a foreigner, and I verily believe the only German bachelor I ever laid eyes upon. I was rather amused at his remarks--remarks so out of keeping with his class. He was talking to a French woman with a beautiful little girl, and said he to her, "Lash Shunday I vash to de peek-neek, dat vash down der Alemeda, an I see de mans an de vimmins, an de leetle shelder, mit de baskets an der deener all spread roun, an de shelder a playin mit demself, an de mans an de vimmins look so gay and so appish, rompin an playin mit der leetle shelder, an I jeest looks up, an I looks roun, an I sez ebery bodish is appish, an has some ting to leeve for, but de ole bachelorsh.

Time and the iron horse brought us to the depot, and a common horse (no disrespect meant to him) and chaise carried us safely to the cottage above described. All San Jose was on the alert for a grand party for the next evening. Not expecting to remain long, I had taken but a limited wardrobe. The best dress I had with me was a new black repp silk, trimmed with real lace and bugles--a dress, to tell the truth, of which I was rather proud. Imagine my feelings when the blue-eyed fairy said,--

"Haven't you got anything better than this, that is more suitable? Why didn't you bring so and so? Telegraph for it. I'll send a messenger to the office."

I was obstinate, however, being so charmed with our drives through the grand old Almaden, with its roof of arching willows planted forty years ago by the Spanish missionaries of the Catholic faith, and the novelties Nature had spread around us, that toilet even became a secondary consideration.

One of those domestic convulsions, heralded by paint-buckets, so upset the cottage about this time, that we became in fact the guest of the mother of my friend, who lived next door. She had a sister very like herself, except for a shower of dark-brown curls. I have never met a lady who, perhaps, had stronger claims to the character of heroine; a gentleman especially sound upon matters of business and in other respects, having entirely lost his sanity upon the one subject of herself. Every day he writes her a letter, pouring forth his love in extravagant strains. The post-master was requested not to forward any such letters to her address. He then walked a mile down the Almaden, with the morning's dawn, and dropped his love-missives upon the door-steps. Once during my stay, he chanced to see her sweeping something from the hall-floor. Notwithstanding his often rebuffs he could not resist, but ventured in. She swept on, and tried in fact to sweep him out, but in vain. He called her cruel charmer, and wound up by saying, he knew his constancy would yet be rewarded. A gentleman of San Jose attempted to remonstrate with him upon what he called his persecutions of Miss Hamilton.

"Oh!" replied the lover, "I see through you. You want her yourself, and you are only afraid my constancy will be rewarded."

In our drives through the city of San Jose, wherever he caught sight of the fair face of Miss Sally Hamilton, he would start up and walk after the carriage, looking wistfully in, but never giving any of the rest of us so much as a glance of curiosity. One morning, Judge Hamilton said, as he buttoned up his overcoat--

"I am going over to the riverside farm, suppose you go with me. We shall have a long but a delightful drive through the Almaden to Santa Clara, thence by the famous mill, which has cost its owner four hundred thousand dollars, and of which all the wood-work is solid mahogany. I have five Artesian wells on the riverside farm, and as you have never seen any, I think you had better go with me."

We found Santa Clara a lovely village. Our blue-eyed devotee being in company as far as Santa Clara, the holy father with whom she seemed an especial favorite, showed us with evident pleasure over Santa-Clara College, paved grounds, pointing out olive trees bearing fruit, which had been planted by the original missionaries forty years before. The old church still stands, though but for its classic associations, quite eclipsed by the superb edifices for educational purposes by which it is surrounded. Riverside joined the grounds of one of my acquaintances of lang syne. Could you have seen the cordiality with which he greeted me in his new home, you would have overestimated my claims to his hospitality, I am sure. Some remarks were of course made about the terrible tragedy which had thrown the nation in gloom. Judge Hamilton was so excited about it that he denounced the Southron people, among whom were his best friends, by wholesale.

My friend and his English wife took reverse ground. I was happy to hear the Gray-family carriageannounced. As we stood in the door watching the carriage winding its way up the avenue, and admiring the fountain playing over the rich vegetation, among which I must mention the celebrated Eucaforbia trees of Australia, which attain the height of three hundred feet, I said,--

"Mrs. Gray has twin babies," to my hostess.

"Yes," she replied, "they are about thirteen months old."

"Yes," rejoined I, "and she has another pair, not so many weeks of age."

"No, indeed, you are quite mistaken. I see the family of her brother quite often, and I am sure you are thinking of the first pair; such a thing would be terrible."

Mrs. Gray came. Two little fellows just toddling in fantastic uniform were handed out, and then another pair, looking like little roses or kittens. Anything that is abundant in that country would serve as a simile, however. My hostess gave a scream, "And to think I never heard of this!"

The pater familias of the quartette was the jolliest man I ever saw. That word quartette slipped unconsciously off the end of my pen; seeing it is a musical term I am glad I used it, since it gives me an opportunity of wishing for their mother's sake that this infant band will confine themselves to the letter of the text--only giving Upsoatic entertainments solo. In the course of the morning I heard Mrs. Gray remark,--

"California was a great country, and emigration not to be depended upon."

We next visited the Artesian wells. The wells had ceased to flow. At first they eject a stream of water sometimes thirty feet in height, throwing up live fish with eyes to them, giving rise to the opinion that the boasted Santa Clara valley is but an incrustation over a subterranean lake. Quite as well I suppose to have a lake of water as one of fire beneath us. And we have material proof of the truth of the latter proposition. So it is, we are not only fearfully and wonderfully made, but existence once received, there is but one issue from its fearful and wonderful adjuncts, and that is through the merits of One who holdeth the sea in the hollow of his hand, and is yet of such tender pity, that he noteth the fall of the sparrow. "If I make my bed in hell," says the Psalmist, "He is there."

I never saw grounds so beautifully kept. The apple-trees were in full blossom, and the strawberries, to which there seemed no limit, looked as though they had been created trees in miniature. There was a rich purple haze hanging over the coast range on either side of us, and the air seemed laden with the freshness of the snowy mountains and the softness of the tropical seas as we drove home.

"We had a charming drive, Mrs. Hamilton," said I, upon returning; "and I am convinced that the sun shines upon no fairer spot than the Valley of Santa Clara."

"It was quite a long jaunt," remarked Mrs. Hamilton.

"Did you talk politics?"

"Talk politics, driving through the Almaden, Mrs. Hamilton! I am surprised at you. No, indeed, we talked sentiment, madam."

"Don't flatter yourself too much," replied Mrs. H., "the Judge has a habit of falling in love with my guests."

"Mother is growing jealous," said Miss Sally.

Our pleasantries were interrupted by the arrival of the evening papers.

"Archie! Archie, the Constitution has arrived," Marion exclaims. "And among the list of passengers I see the names of the party you were expecting from New York."

"I must take the cars for San Francisco to-morrow morning, if that is the case," I said.

"Oh, no, you must never return without seeing the New-Almaden quicksilver mines," said two or three voices.

Then again was the courteous California bachelor ready for this emergency as for every other of a similar nature. The one in question was, however, sorely stricken by the arrows of Cupid, the blind god having conducted him to within a week of the hymenial altar.

The drive from San Jose to the Hiacienda is through a nearly level country, ornamented with beautiful groves of live oak, gracefully trailing willows, and stately trees native and to the manor born. This Hiacienda (head quarters,) is an imposing mansion with extensive verandas, around the portals of which Flora's queen, with her native pink, crimson, gold and vestal white, with a train of fuscias, lilies, ranunculus, and other beauties, keep watch and ward. We also find graperies and shady groves, and graveled walks, and hear the songs of birds of brilliant plumage, and the music of rippling streams. Verily there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of, in the philosophy of those whose destiny is all cast in countries solely agricultural and manufacturing.

By what moral and social epidemics, what wheels within wheels, what mysterious, but perfect, circles of coincidences does not Providence accomplish His grand designs? Here we learn that the discovery of gold and silver in California and the adjacent countries, would have been of but little worth but for the discovery of gold and silver in California and the adjacent countries, would have been of but little worth for the discovery of quicksilver, without which the precious metals, and some which are not so very precious, cannot be separated from their baser associates and gathered into the form of an amalgam. Previous to the discovery of these mines, the world was dependent upon three others, one in Austria, one in Peru, and those of old Almaden, in Spain. My polite cicerone tells me that these mines were found by the Indians long years ago, but only known as the Vermillion cave. The brilliant treasures of the grotto, however, did not agree so well with the physique of the savage discoverers as with their gaudy tastes, and they concluded it was a snare prepared by the spirit of evil, whom they endeavored, in vain, to appease by sacrifices. The deep, dark, mysterious, weird caverns, the lurid light of the lamps and irradiant furnaces, the enigmatical machinery, and the reduction works quite overpower the novice. But the most wonderful thing of all is the fact that mortal men can be found who will work in places in which the poisonous odors produce salivation, palsy, vertigo, and other diseases of the brain. Delicate ladies have been salivated by merely passing the furnaces. Under the present management the works have been so much improved, that these difficulties are measurably obviated.

Verily, California is a land of wonders, a richly endowed child of Nature; but like many an heiress I have seen, fortune seems to have bestowed all her gifts, and then made them, too often, unavailing for happiness. Chiefly in this instance it seems to be, because the rain comes not in due season, and the refreshing dews of the religion of Christ have not been appreciated as they should be. And yet, one must own that fabulous genii seem to have been at work, and to have accomplished marvelous results in so short a space of time.

The ladies of the family now did all that could be done to induce me to remain to the bachelor's wedding. Marion refused positively to accompany me back. But such was my impatience to see my friends who arrived by the steamer, and hear orally from those near and dear to me, who had taken refuge in New York from the bloody deeds which follow in the wake of the chariot of Mars, that remonstrances and counter temptations were powerless. But see how man proposes, and God disposes: The evening of my arrival, word was conveyed to my friends. One was sick, threatened it was supposed with Panama-fever; the other could not leave him.

Next morning I set out for a short visit to the minister's dwelling, saying, "I will be gone but a short time to my California mother." The invalid who had received my compliments and anxious inquiries as to his health, coupled with such a bouquet as only California can produce, through Brooks on his way to school, was tempted to try the bracing air, and what he was graciously pleased to term the soothing effects of ladies' society. My overestimate of my friend's danger of the dreaded Isthmus-fever, induced me to prolong my morning call. Meanwhile, my affectionate California mother was exhausting her rich and varied conversational resources, her cabinet of curiosities from the vasty deep, and her collection of floral treasures; among which a flock of quails, with their jaunty plumes gracefully bending to the ground as they lowered their heads in search of food, and numberless tiny humming birds, with dazzling plumage, lingered. Two hours thus passed. The shrill whistle of the Sacramento boat gave warning that they must depart or be too late for their journey to Virginia City; and so they left without my seeing them;--ten minutes after, I, who had been leisurely gossipping with my friends, made my appearance. Ah! what a scoring I got, but not a greater one than my conscience said I deserved. Pater familias, meanwhile, met my Bohemian friend of Cliff-House notoriety.

"Madam has returned: come up and see her," said he.

The Bohemian came.

"How did you get up from the depot?" inquired he.

"I took the street cars."

"That is very singular," he replied: "I told that Irishman who drove you to the depot, to observe you closely, watch for you as you returned from San José, and bring you home in the carriage. Gallant fellows, ar'nt they?"

{centered} CHAPTER XXXVII. {CENTERED} MY FRIEND AND MY TICKETS.

ABOUT this time I received letters from my sister in Sacramento, urging upon me the necessity of buying steamer-tickets at once, as all the vessels homeward bound were crowded to repletion with the disaffected emigration of the preceding year, chiefly. I had also letters from my mother, urging us with the return of peace to come to her at once. I had had too many proofs that her very life was wrapped up in her children, to hesitate long in obeying her wishes. One evening, as we were discussing the subject, my California mother said: "Why, I thought you had made up your mind to remain with us. Come, tell me all about it; we have known Mr. ---- for years, and think him unexceptionable, and then he is so good-looking; tell me, now, in time to prepare for the reception; I assure you I will spare no pains." Finally, she said, "You are, certainly, the most mysterious, reticent, uncommunicative woman I ever beheld."

"Brooks, come and take this note to Mr. ----" (our ministerial friend), said I, folding the paper and directing it. Next morning, the clergyman came, looking, as he always did, the embodiment of clerical dignity. In a few moments after his arrival, I came down stairs with my bonnet on, having bestowed rather more than usual pains upon my toilet, without any designs, however, unless there were lurking, anticipatory ones, in regard to the paying-teller of the Bank of California (who proved to be a very handsome person, and a polite one), of which I was not conscious. I saw that my beloved mother looked restless. At length her impulsive nature could stand it no longer; so she astounded us by exclaiming, as we closed the gate: "Say! stop a minute; you are such a queer woman. Archie, tell me surely, you are not going to the church to be married, and not telling me of it! It would be so unkind, when you know so well the interest I take in you." That laugh was the most unclerical laugh I ever heard our minister give; as soon as he could command himself, he assured Mrs. ---- that he was only going to the bank to identify me. We visited the opposition steamer, the America. I concluded I would prefer becoming a Californian to trusting myself from twenty to thirty days in her close little state-rooms, upon the broad bosom of the bottomless ocean, and through tropical climes. About this time the following letter came from my friend Mrs. Ellis, dated Salt-Lake City, April 15th:

"MY DEAR FRIEND:--I have been trying almost every day, for three weeks, to find time to write to you; but, until now, without success: and, when I tell you why, you will find I deserve great credit for writing at all, when there is so much to deter me. First, I have just gone to housekeeping and before that event (although I had brought all of my house linen, a great part of which is cotton, with me), I still had piles of sewing to do; and then Salt-Lake is a miserable place in which to outfit. I was foot-sore for days, from running around hunting tins, pots, and kettles. Now, my great fear is, that some evil-disposed 'Biddy' will not appreciate, as highly as I desire, my bran-new stove, spotless tins and immaculate dresser. At present, I have a 'help!' who would try the patience of Job himself, heavenly as that virtue was in him. She is a Swedish girl, who speaks no English; and, as I am not conversant with the Swedish dialect, you may imagine the signs and motions to which we resort. She is much given to using the dish-cloth for everything, and everything for the dish-cloth. She also has a habit (I think a disagreeable one), of taking advantage of my absence to use my brushes and combs. I always find her head combed to perfection after being away half-an hour. My tooth-brush I keep under lock and key. Her sole accomplishment is making puddings. Of these she makes not only an astonishing but an alarming variety. I fear to let anything eatable pass from my hands, let it be vegetable, animal or mineral, for I always have a presentiment that when I again behold it it will have been converted into pudding. Now I wish to know if anything in your experience can equal this? I am very nicely "fixed up" for Salt-Lake; have four rooms and a large kitchen; or, as my girl, greatly to Sally's amusement, calls it, "the chicken." I succeeded in getting beautiful carpets for the floors, and the furniture--especially that of the dining-room--is quite pretty. In the parlor it is covered with green and drab damask, and the curtains match; so it presents quite a respectable appearance. But enough of housekeeping.

"I have found more cultivation and intelligence among the people of this city than I expected. And in all particulars, save one, they are like the rest of the world. The longer I stay the less I see to impress me with the purity of the principles of plurality. I find but few first wives who approve of polygamy. Three of the President's daughters are to be married this week, and none of them to be first wives. We have had the warmest hospitality extended to us. I find that strangers who come here and say nothing against the 'Saints', are very kindly treated; but they are a sensitive people, and cannot brook expressions of disapprobation. I have a charming Mormon neighbor, wife of a former delegate to Congress. She defends her religion like a lawyer. I am surprised that so intelligent a woman can believe Smith a prophet. Have you had your photograph taken yet, and will you not send me one? I have been wishing to have mine and Sally's taken, but our artist here is an apathetic creature, not caring if he gives satisfaction or not; and, as he occupies his leisure moments in extracting teeth, I am not sure I will escape with all my grinders if ever I am seated in his chair. My mother has often told me it was a hard matter to teach an old dog new tricks; but, in spite of her saying, I am trying a new trick, that of making myself mistress of the French language. Mr. Ellis slyly hints at the importance of being able to speak and write the English with elegance; but I pass by such remarks as ill-natured, to say the least. I have an excellent teacher, and hope to succeed.

"Supper is announced, and supper in my house is like 'time and tide,' it waits for no man. I will, in consequence, take a hasty leave of you. Do write very soon, and tell me the name of the friends with whom you are staying. I have a friend who is anxious to know. Tell Brooks Sally often speaks of him, and wonders if he is a big man yet. I got some 'Harpers' to read, and am delighted with Armadale. Our Mutual Friend, in spite of some cheery, never-to-be-forgotten characters, and some pleasant flashes of Dickens for herself, is so far the dreariest penny-a-liner I ever labored through. Sally likes Ross Browne's account of the fast-woman, and I hear 'Heigh-ho Rickety Jo' a dozen times a day. As ever, your affectionate.

{right justified} "ANNA ELLIS." {centered, small caps} LETTER FROM SALLY ELLIS TO BROOKS.

"DEAR BROOKS:--I want to see you so bad; I want to come over as soon as I can, and I'd try to come in the train. Brooks, I got so many letters--one from Mollie Ramage and one from Lizzie Inslee; but, Brooks, yours was the sweetest of them all. Ma read it to me so much, and pa read it to me so much, that I took it by heart, and can now read it for myself. I think the China children must look very funny with tails sticking down their backs; I guess they look like cows. Brooks, I hope you are comtiful, and have you growed much? I would like to see you, but I am so far off as Salt-Lake City, and I can't. I have some friends and playmates, and they are very fond of me, and come to see me all the time; but ma does not let me go to see them much: I reckon she thinks they will want me for their other wife. Brooks, have you some mejections to my sending my love to all the people there? Papa took me to the theatre; it was perfect beautiful. The man said, "Open, sesame," and I saw some little fairies and some great big geese at their sides. Don't you wish I would come there and inscort you to the theatre? Dear Brooks, you must write to me very often, and tell me if you feel sick or not. I have been very sick, but am tolible well now. Your dear little

{right justify} "SALLY ELLIS." {CENTERED SMALL CAPS} LETTER FROM MRS. HALLET. {RIGHT JUSTIFY} OAKDALE, March 19th. {small caps} "MY VERY DEAR FRIEND:--

"Not a day passes that we do not speak of you; anything so entirely customary may be thought unworthy of mention, but as will be seen, I have reason. Mr. Hallet yesterday received a letter from the Captain, in which he says he thinks of leaving the country. You can scarcely imagine into what a state of consternation the bare possibility has thrown our quiet little household. Rose and Julia both exclaimed in a breath, 'Can dear Archie be going too?' My friend, we hope not. We have a pleasant house with eight rooms, which William has furnished with that fastidious taste which is a part of his nature, and we long for a visit from you and dear little Brooks. If you return, all my castles in the air will topple to the ground. Already I have seen myself located in San Francisco, and received your social visits, as well as promenaded Montgomery Street by your side. You should take your health into consideration, friends write us from home. Our summer has been unusually hot and dry, our autumn chilly and disagreeable. But if next winter should be a counterpart of that of '64, how many such do you think your constitution, enervated by the long hot summers, could stand!

"But let me take breath, and tell you why your interesting letter has so long remained unanswered. Rose wrote to Mr. Grattan's friend in Austin, making inquiries for Lilian's sake, of his health. He followed her in a few days after her departure, but nothing further was known to her correspondent. I am so sorry to think that our circle is already broken by the departure of Mr. Armat. How sad it is to think that we may never see his pleasant face again, nor have the pleasure of ministering to his comfort! In talking over the long trip, we sometimes revert to its dark, disagreeable phases, though we invariably wind up with the reflection that we owe to those plains two of the most pleasant acquaintances of our whole lives,--quiet, gentlemanly Mr. Armat and yourself. Rose, Julia and Mr. Hallet desire to be most affectionately remembered to you. I almost forgot to say I will pass through the city on Monday, on my way to Jenny's. Meet me at the minister's. William sends regard, and begs you to command him in any service you may need. {off center}Your loving friend,

{right justified} S.B.H.

We heard of the good Christian gentleman who, every night, in the wilderness assembled his family around him, and like Abraham of old offered prayer and praise to his Maker. He had gotten through with all his stock and chattels safely, and the good wife was getting a dollar a dozen in gold for all the eggs her hens laid, and they needed no coaxing. Her son, Jug, who could never be wakened in time for an early start, but kept his anxious parent calling in his bland, amiable tones, "Come, my son, get up! Jug, it is time you were up! Come feed the mare, Jug. That's a good boy, Jug; the mare will have no time to eat, Jug," to the no small amusement of the whole train who heard the same entreaties every morning on all the long route. Jug, I sat out to say, had improved greatly on these sluggish habits, as will be seen. During one of our romantic morning-walks in the Humboldt mountains, I met the old lady walking along by the side of Jug, who was riding the mare. Said she to me--

"When we started, that yallar mar was the finest nag in the whole country. She was so purty we loved to have her potografted, but now she is nothing more'n a walkin' skelipin."

The bracing air of the valleys of Tonoma had brought her back to her pristine beauty, we learned, for we made special inquiries. The old man, moreover, had a fine wheat crop; but they were homesick, and thought the people wasn't their kind.

On the journey I frequently looked behind me at a sturdy yeoman who drove one of the Captain's wagons. Thus I pictured his life: William will wed some California maiden. She'll find her liege's ways a trifle arbitrary, but then he'll be tender and true, and their lives will glide as peacefully to the grave as though they addressed each other in cancated phrases. That honest fellow walked the streets of Sacramento three days and nights without food, too proud to beg and unable to get work. Even Jamie, who said, jocosely, "Faith an' it took very little work to satisfy him," wore a long, sober face. Subsequently Jamie told Clyde he had saved seven hundred dollars in gold from his labors at his trade--that of shoe-making in Virginia City, and in two more months he would have it up to a thousand. Nearly all the teamsmen, (as poor old Mrs. Balkey called them,) as soon as they could, by charity or otherwise, returned to the war-devastated land. The winter of '65 will doubtless be long remembered by the emigrants of the year previous. I heard of whole families, the character of whose lives might be given in the language of the old philosopher, when he says it is the whole duty of man to "serve God and go a-fishing," who survived, having lived in camp this cold, trying, wet winter. I have neglected to mention "Wonderful," so styled from the character of the narratives with which he beguiled the hours around the camp-fires. He was a corpulent youth, bearing no inapt resemblance to the Pickwickian fat boy. Like William, he walked the streets of San Francisco, chewing the bitter cud of disappointment. Finally, in the extremity of his need, he applied to the whole-souled agent of the Mazattan line of steamers, upon whose acquaintance he had remote claims. He was directed to go to the steamer John L. Stephens, and remain until he received further instructions. Unfortunately the sailors were on a strike for higher wages. Thinking poor Wonderful was an underbidder, they "fell afoul of him," to quote his own words, and beat him unmercifully. They suffered for their pains, however, and Wonderful received a berth. A sailor's life did not suit him, however; so Mr. Agent and another gentleman, noted for his charities, gave him the means to return.

Rose and Julia are probably married by this time. I am sure it is not the fault of the California bachelors if they are not. Virgie has returned, and possibly sometimes thinks of the "Mysterious Spring" in Humboldt Canon. My own experiences remind me of a saying of quaint old Isaac Walton, who gave utterance to something like the following: "Doubtless God could make a better berry than the strawberry, but doubtless he never did." And so I say of my San Francisco friends. Doubtless God could make better, kinder, nobler beings, but I do not think he ever has. In future San Franciscan hospitality shall be my standard: to those who have been as father, mother, sister to me, my gratitude is too profound for utterance.

I found the people exceedingly deferential to the goddess of fashion, and yet they do not wait to overpower you with a grand demonstration upon every occasion, but go straight to the point to make it agreeable. How often in my dreams, whether waking or sleeping, the fair faces of two friends smile upon me! One of them had a mother whose destiny was cast in Richmond, and whose fate it was to witness and play part in all the tragical scenes there enacted; a brother who suffered with the fall of New Orleans, and another with the burning of Columbia, South Carolina. Her sympathy and her kindness were very grateful to me, and I often wish I could commune with her again upon earth.

The other placed me under such lasting obligations for her elegant hospitality and her thoughtful kindnesses, that I seldom wrote my mother ever without making mention of a social supper or a splendid fête at her house. Time passed on fleeting golden pinions now. Our friends from Virginia City returned. "We have three weeks yet before the sailing of the Mazattan steamer," said they. "We shall spend it in visiting the Geysers, Tosemite and the big trees. Come, go with us? We will give you a premium. Society is the life of travel."

Oh! those miserable, miserable, miserable, abominable little steamer tickets, which cost me two hundred and ninety dollars in gold, and were now scorching my pocket, as it were, and of which I had said nothing to my friends, partly from a feeling of reticence, which is very unwomanly, and for which I am not accountable, it being a part of my nature, and partly because farewell is so sad a word. Had I returned that morning, as I said I would, "in a little while," those tickets would never have been bought.

Meanwhile I spent an afternoon with my Bohemian friend at the Woodward Villa. During the evening some association of ideas recalled a reminiscence of my early girlhood, and this reminiscence, the narration of which may be regarded as intentional, evoked a confession from my escort. Certainly, I respected him for his honesty, but Brooks' future was dearer to me than my own. It was the morning after this that the steamer tickets were purchased.

"Am I to be convicted on my own testimony?" said the noble Bohemian. "If you will not go with me to Yosemite, go with those friends from New York, and I will go in company: do not be so hasty--come, put on your bonnet, and we will go to the office of the steam-ship company and try to induce them to postpone your sailing. It can make no difference to them whether you go by the Constitution or Sacramento."

We went. That man in the office, "dressed in a little brief authority, played such fantastic tricks before high heaven," as might make an angel feel like taking him by the hair of his head and wringing his neck. Although the office was crowded with men and women, all eager to buy tickets, he would neither allow me to transfer mine, nor would he sell them for me. Marion knew him, and she who had but just returned from San José, exclaimed, "Well, if that is'nt more like you, to go and buy those tickets and say nothing about it, than anything I ever heard of! I know Mr. Knight, the agent, and he'll oblige me, I am confident."

California gentlemen are proverbially gallant. So Marion tied on her hat and almost dragged me to the office. "She has bought her tickets; we do no child's-play here," said the autocrat of the office.

We called at the Cosmopolitan to see the bride of our bachelor friend of quicksilver memory. The morning of his wedding, two young ladies, who knew his worth and wished him all happiness, had stolen up to his room at the hotel while he was making his toilet, and literally covered the hall and stairway with flowers. When he came out they cried out from some ambuscade, "O! that won't do, you must walk on them!" And so they forced him to crush the roses under his boot.

Our Bohemian friend was true to the last. He came in a carriage and took us to the steamer, even being so thoughtful as to provide a steamer-chair. On the way down to the quay, he said, he hoped from the bottom of his heart "that the man who invented navigation suffered shipwreck!" Our bridegroom met us at once. "What does this mean? Thought you were going to stay."

Look at him! what a graceful carriage he has as he walks along the pier; and thunder! What a fine looking fellow he is--how could you? I have never told anybody before, reader, but I kissed him and we parted. Certainly an invisible angel walked by my side and led me away.

{centered} CHAPTER XXXVIII. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} WOMAN'S LOVE.

I HAVE neglected the heroine of my story, reader, not from any wish to play that rôle myself, but I preferred when: {poem format, one stanza}

My task is done- my song has ceased- my theme Has died into an echo: it is fit The spell should break of this protracted dream: The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit My midnight lamp--and what is writ is writ. Would it were worthier."

To leave a picture of the sweet, undying love of woman lingering in the portals of your memory, rather than the accidents of an hour, to such as I.

Lilian had carried Roland's short letter about her as a talisman, reading the words, "I will write you fully in a few days," over and over again, gathering hope with every perusal. So every day she waited and watched for the expressman; but he came not. Again she dreamed Roland was sick, oh, so sick! Next morning at breakfast while looking over the "Alta California," she discovered among the items these lines:

"L. Roland Grattan, at one time clerk of the Treasury under----, lies dangerously ill at----of heart-disease."

Did the compositors when they set up that little paragraph know that every letter would pierce, as a cold steel, that poor woman's heart? She wrote to him and to his physician. The latter replied: "We cannot give him your letter nor can you see him: the slightest excitement would precipitate the end."

One morning as she lay upon her couch in her little chamber which overlooked the bay, just as the rosy robes of Aurora were tinting its waters, she, upon her pillow, beheld Roland kneeling beside her. There was a wonderful expression in those eyes still lit with the beauty of love, when, leaning over her, he kissed her and whispered, as in his boyhood, "My sister."

Two days thereafter a lady friend was reading the "Alta." She looked up with a sad countenance saying, "Nerve that poor heart of thine; buckle on its armor: a barbed arrow is waiting to pierce it." Then she read in that column, so fraught with meaning to some, regarded so lightly by others:

"Died, February 27th, at---- L. Roland Grattan, one of California's best citizens."

Saw you one pass this way decked in jewels and fine laces? Was there health in her step, and sat beauty enthroned upon her brow? Had she friends by troops, and lovers by the dozens, and did you think her blessed? Could Lilian but have borne her Roland's name, and soothed his dying pillow, then you might have envied her rather than that other. O ye wild birds! as ye carol your lays over his tomb, will ye not whisper, "The lone one is waiting and weeping, and loving you still?" And you, ye pines! as ye murmur your requiem over his grave, ever pointing the watcher to the skies, will ye not bid him look for a frail bark which must one day cross the stream of time, and to welcome the way-worn voyager to the other shore?

{large caps, centered}BOOK THE SECOND. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} CHAPTER I. {CENTERED, SMALLER CAPS} OVER THE SEAS. {poem stanzas, every other line indented}

"Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean--roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin--his control Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deeds, nor doth remain, A shadow of man's ravage, save his own. When for a moment, like a drop of rain, She sinks into thy deeps with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

"The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake They melt into thy yeast of waves which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.

"And I have loved thee, ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here."

SINCE creation's dawn, I think the sun has seldom shone upon a more chaotic mass of humanity than that assembled upon the good ship Sacramento, as she weighed anchor in the bay--known on the old maps as the Bay of Sir Francis Drake--eleven o'clock, Thursday morning, May 18th, A.D., 1865. Passed Angel Island, Alcatraz, the old Presidio, and the Golden Gate, in a slight shower.

Jupiter Pluvius, however, receives very little respect in this climate, as he injures one's clothing more than one's constitution. So Brooks and his mother remain on deck, casting fond, farewell glances at the old familiar scenes, around which the perfume of sweet memories lovingly linger. At the cliff we behold the pure emblem of peace and good will, heaving us, we trust, a regretful adieu, from that veranda upon which we first beheld the mighty, the magnificent, the beautiful ocean, upon which our destiny is now cast. Brooks energetically returns the compliment. A moment more and the shore is lost to view, and memory taunts us with duties neglected, kindnesses unrequited. She cannot exaggerate the deep debt of gratitude we owe, though let us hope she amplifies our delinquencies. The rain has sent most of the passengers below. However, at a little distance from us we behold an exceedingly interesting looking couple.

"Mamma," says Brooks, "that lady told the gentleman who is with her, that he might not appreciate such things, but that the trimming on your dress and mantle was really beautiful."

"Excuse me, madam," said the gentleman, "but am I mistaken in supposing you to be Mrs. Reese, who has been placed in my charge by her husband, but with whom I am unacquainted?"

"Mrs. Reese," I replied, "is one of my friends, and will, I hope, be the means of promoting our acquaintance."

The beautiful lady answered,--

"I think we shall need no further introduction; we have a long voyage before us, and society becomes a matter of deep interest to all of us. Suppose we go below and take observations?"

Below we hear a strange sort of vocal music resounding from almost every state-room. Sounds not altogether of the earth earthly, but of the water. Oh, horror! what hast thou led me into, my pen?--watery. Some countenances are pictures of woe, and others of mirth. In the midst of it, dinner is announced by a sonorous gong. Our party take the first seats which present themselves. My beauty turns pale and leaves the table, her husband conducting her to her stateroom. In a few moments more my elegant, gentlemanly-looking vis-a-vis is laughing in my face. I too have dropped my knife and fork. Les miserables grow sociable. Sociability being promoted by le misère generale. After this I retired to my room, slept soundly; arose much refreshed. Concluded to take a look at my room-mates. Lilian had the sofa beneath mine. There was a pleasant looking lady with dark curls, and a wizen-faced old woman who was cross to Brooks, but wondrously tender of two children whom I supposed to be her grand progeny.

"Has that boy got to stay in this room?" inquired she, boring holes into my flesh with her two screws of eyes.

"No," I politely replied; "he sleeps on the sofa in the cabin, near my window.

"Well, he has got no business poking in here so much--leastwise there's them as sez he hesen't."

Poor little Brooks was pale as a moonbeam, and the tears were standing in his eyes; he, too, was sea-sick. But the tears were tears of anxiety for his mother, whom the lady with the curls told me he had been watching through her slumbers with tenderness beautiful to contemplate. I took a second look at the shrew with the screws for eyes, the long screw for a nose, the grizzled screw-twist on the back of her head, the screwed-up mouth; and, thinks I to myself, I must let her know her status at once, or she will be a screw in my flesh all the day. Looking her in the eye, said I, "Madam, I have traveled a good deal, and met a great many different kinds of people, but you are the first one who ever yet spoke an unkind word to Brooks. I have no patience with people who are unreasonable to children. We have a long voyage before us, and it behooves us all to make friends in the outset."

With these words I swept indignantly into the cabin. No sooner, however, was this move accomplished, than I fell forward. My vis-a-vis at table, whom I shall call Mr. Marshall, pointed to a bucket, into which my evil-assorted dinner came tumbling. I crept back to my sofa-bed. Brooks' tears brought the cabin-boy, a kind-hearted Irishman, who made me as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances, getting out a little tin-box, which he hooked on to the sofa, so that I could "throw up" at pleasure, without moving. I slept until aroused by Patrick. "Let me undress you, mim," says he, "I am usened to undressing sick ladies. You will be more aisy if you take off your dress, mim."

"Thank you, Patrick; if you will hand me that carpet-bag, and see that Brooks is covered up, I will not trouble you further."

Whether I disrobed in the presence of that Irishman or not, I shall never know, as I fell back just as I got on the last sleeve of my robe de nuit (there seemed to be a dozen of them), remembering nothing farther until awakened by the nightmare. My sufferings from impeded circulation were intolerable; finally, a dim consciousness that I had fallen asleep just as Patrick had taken my stocking by the toe, and slipped it from under the elastic by which it was confined, came over me. Mechanically I unclasped my tormentors, and fell asleep once more.

The breakfast gong aroused me this time, and peeping out to see what had become of Brooks, for whom I had had no fears after committing him to good Patrick's care, I beheld one quite tastily attired, but upon whose brow, Magdalen, no, not Magdalen, but "scarlet woman" was unmistakably written. I sat there, gazing upon her tasteful toilet appointments and coquettish ways, and I thought, who knows but that she may be like one of whom I heard in San Francisco, whose husband deserted her for an inferior, and whose sole remaining friend betrayed and left her to the cruel scorn of the world. She made attempts to support herself, but in desperation she fell, never to rise again; and thus I soliloquized: "Oh, woman! patient, devoted, self-sacrificing, noble thou art; but ever unpitying to thy sister woman." Meantime the "femme écarlate" coquetted a red-faced, showily-dressed man, with no trifling display of watch and chain. Indeed an almost irresistible impulse of mischief, which prudence had much ado to hold in abeyance, prompted me to tell Brooks to inquire the time, by the gentleman's watch and chain, for really the chain seemed to be the more important adjunct of the two. And little did I then dream that the history of this coarse, gaudily bedecked individual would, in time, furnish a contribution to "Cupid's Album," rivaling in sentimentality that of many a modern hero. I had also made an error in my calculations respecting the relative value of the watch and chain, as we shall see. After making as careful a breakfast toilet as I could, struggling with the nausea, the old woman and the children bobbing in and out, I made my appearance at table. As I stood in the narrow passway, testing my steps to see if they were sufficiently steady to be trusted, a person whom it was somewhat difficult to classify, handed me a book, asking me if I would not like to read it, remarking that it had been presented him yesterday in San Francisco. Unconsciously I opened at the fly-leaf, and read, "Presented Ine Caldwell, with the compliments of the author." At table, the femme écarlate, or Mrs. Coleburn, as she called herself, and by which name she will be known hereafter, was seated not far from me; in her arms she held a beautiful King Charles spaniel, with a golden collar, resembling a lady's bracelet, upon which his name was engraven. She chewed the dog's food, transmitting it to his mouth with her fingers, while he took an occasional lap from a saucer of cream and strawberries. As I sat there sipping a cup of strong coffee without cream or sugar, such a thing as never passed my lips before, it became a problem with me, whether to pity most the dog which was eating after the woman, or the woman who was eating the strawberries after the dog. And I thought of one of whom my friend Mrs. Harden, in San Francisco, had spoken. This beautiful creature had been the life of the ship; every one loving her for her kindness of heart, as well as her attractive social attributes. Just before entering the Golden Gate, however, she had taken my friend a-part, and told her she was not such as Mrs. Harden must recognize in the streets of San Francisco. This one may one day have become the Christ-loving Magdalen, if Mary Magdalen was ever such, but for our "femme écarlate" I fear there is no hope. Her deeds, if there is truth in rumor, might have brought palor to the cheek of a fiend. No sooner had I drank the cup of coffee for which appetite capriciously called, than the nausea vanished, and my countenance cleared; and when I ascended to the deck, I felt in a better mood for the appreciation of the sublime and beautiful, even upon the mountain top, than I did upon this untried, unstable, but magnificently beautiful element. He of the chain, and whom I shall call Col. Fisher, for he had worn his spurs in the Florida war, though he still looked young comparatively, seated himself on a sofa beside Brooks, whom he playfully catechised. Finally, he handed me some oranges, saying: "Your son tells me you are from"---- I assented.

"Did you ever visit G---?"

"The brightest as well as the saddest associations of my life cluster around G---. There I was married--to that place I first carried Brooks on a visit to his grandfather, who lies buried on one of those old hill sides."

"I lived there many years ago," he said. "What was your father's name?" I told him.

"I know your family well by reputation," he replied, "though your father moved to G--- after I left there."

He then inquired whether I knew Mr. Rutherford, formerly of G---, but now of St. Louis.

"He is one of my best friends," I answered. He then asked whether I was acquainted with the family of a certain New York millionaire.

"Only through mutual friends," I rejoined.

Then pulling the chain from his pocket, he displayed a superb chronometer, upon the inner case of which his name was inscribed, and beneath, that of the donor, the New York Crœsus. Another party now appeared upon deck. At once I recognized Mrs. Judge Reese and my charming acquaintances of yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. McMurtry. We exchanged greetings, after which Mrs. McMurtry said: "I wish to introduce the Purser of the steamer and two other gentlemen friends."

"You had better not be introducing too many," chimed in my chance companion of the chain, "for some of them may be getting their brains blown out."

We all laughed, as was of course expected of us, and joining my friends, we passed on. Four gentlemen were introduced to us, Mr. Purser, who is the grand high dignitary whom all the ladies, if possible, propitiate, he being the social arbiter of destiny for the nonce, the Captain having his hands full with his compass and chart. The second officer who was presented had been represented to me as one of Cupid's victims, the busy archer having sent an arrow straight from the raven tresses or the large, dark eyes of our rosy-cheeked beauty of Rincon Hill, Miss Julia H---, whose graceful hospitalities I have so often enjoyed--straight to the heart of the handsome cavalier. Thinks I to myself as I bowed, "There is no danger of my being neglected on this ship now." A Mr. Mathew, who had been a great traveler, and to whom I became deeply indebted for kind attentions, and a Bostonian, who had a holy horror of Southrons, completed the list.

Mrs. Reese and Mrs. McMurtry were still quite sea-sick, and had come upon deck to try the fresh air. We seated ourselves beside a Mr. and Mrs. Dodge from Oregon.

"How are you this morning, Mrs. Dodge?" said Mrs. Reese.

"Oh nicely, thank you," was the response.

It was the second time I had ever heard the expression. Once while promenading Montgomery street, my friend, Mrs. W., had made inquiry concerning the health of the wife of an ex-Governor of California, and had been answered by "Madame la excellentissime, I'm nicely, thank you." And the answer was so novel that I had not recovered from the ludicrous impression it made upon me even at this time. The Governor's wife had, however, furnished me farther entertainment, for in reply to an invitation to lunch, she had said: "I would admire to spend a day with you, I would especially love to see those flowers, I forget their name, but those which smell so beautiful." I regretted not to have seen the ex-Governor's lady again. But here before me was a chance for twenty-one days association with a lady whose health was nicely, and who hailed from a section which boasted of its grammars and spelling-books. By this time I observed that Mrs. Dodge did not trouble herself to place a title of any kind before her husband's name, but simply called him Dodge. A new thing under the sun in my experience, and it struck upon my untutored ear with all the attraction of a novelty. In a casual remark to Mrs. McMurtry, I mentioned the name of a friend in St. Louis--Dodge (how soon I caught it), repeated it.

"And so you knows the Ormsbeys. I guess they are Copperheads, there's plenty of 'em 'bout here, I guess," (he looks leisurely around), "but they darsen't blow as they used to. Yes, they must be Copperheads, Miss Nagg knows 'em."

"You are mistaken, Mr. Dodge, Mr. Ormsbey is not only a Republican, but a member of Congress."

"Well, I thought by Miss Nagg's knowing them that they must be Copperheads," he replied.

"You hadn't oughter to talk so about Miss Nagg, Dodge, she be a good woman, and Copperheads, they be's pizenous."

"Miss Nagg, Miss Nagg! Who is Miss Nagg?" I inquired, impressed by the "Dickensy" name.

"Miss Nagg is the wife of John Nagg of the Miners' Restaurant, and I guess he's made a sight o' money out of it," replied Mr. Dodge.

I had heard upon occasions, married ladies entitled Miss before, though I must say the misapplication of the Miss never failed to go amiss with my unsophisticated auriculars. Now, oh all ye who hail from the land of grammars, countrymen of Mr. and Mrs. Dodge, pitch not your talons into my literary anatomy! This is no scandalum magnum; I have but reproduced the language verbatim et literatim, "non commentatum." And yet I must, in order to prevent myself from running my pen through the words I have traced, keep in mind the journals of the North, those who said to the men of the South-land, "Go on, thou glorious nation of princes and principalities, we'll stand by you when the crisis comes," your support to us all these years has been so liberal! Journals which have since degenerated into little less than an unceasing stream of philippics against the men whose hands they strengthened for the combat: until, upon the principle of a certain old maxim, too obvious to require repetition, a generation will scarcely have passed away under such tuition, ere the noble people of the South will come to be regarded as mere myths, never having had an actual existence. I can but smile now as I remember, in parlors in Eastern cities, to have heard men, with the air of trade perched upon the tops of their heads, and in the corners of their eyes, roosting in fact upon their very finger nails, reproducing the grossest provincialisms as the language of Southern and Western people--men who were themselves guilty of the grossest solecisms, and yet folded their arms in all the beatitude of self-sufficiency, saying in their hearts, "I thank God I am not as other men."

{Centered} CHAPTER II. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} CHIAROSCURO.

MRS. COLBURN talked loudly of her accomplished daughter, who had been five years at school in Europe. She also made frequent and very elegant changes of toilet, and talked to the King Charles in this wise: "Mamma's darlin litty petty was sea-sicky, mamma wanted to pay Mr. Pursy twenty-five dollars for his deary, sweety, little passage to New Yorky, but Misty Pursy wouldn't taky nossin 'tall, sweety litty sugy doggy, mamma knows he papa wants to see it." And then she told how deep was her husband's attachment for the dog. Ill natured people around said "they did not believe the dog had any papa."

My sister continued to suffer from sea-sickness. "Come out," said I, "and see the lights and shadows of California life as you never saw them before. Depend upon it, there is nothing like fresh air and moral resistance. Come, the lights and shadows are curious to contemplate."

There are highly cultivated and interesting Messieurs returning to Paris to enjoy the results of successful mining operations. There are educated, but ever inelegant Mienheers, with their fraus and frauliens, bound for Hamburg and other ports, with pockets filled to repletion, as one can see by the luxuries with which they surround themselves at table. There are graceful senoritas, grave senors and senoras, with eyes almost as brilliant as the diamonds which flash with every movement of their fingers, on their way to Madrid to dazzle the eyes of jealous Spaniards with the treasure shipped through the Golden Gate. There is also a Chinese Catholic Priest bound from Canton to Rome, on a mission to His Holiness, Pope Pio Nino. I have also seen some unusually interesting Englishmen and their wives, from Van Couver's Island, who ship at Panama for Liverpool. Nearly all our passengers, however, go first to New York. There are numbers of pleasure-seekers en route for Newport, Saratoga, and other popular resorts, with the intention of returning in the fall. Other families go to Kentucky, and various western States to visit relatives. Then there are free negroes, who doubtless went to California, as did some of their betters, with the expectation of picking up such a lump of gold as one of which Monsieur Langlais was telling me, which was found in 1854, in Calaveras County, (the County with the big trees, you remember), and which weighed one hundred and ninety-five pounds. It is said of the fortunate stumbler, that being unable to remove his treasure he sent for assistance, and in the meantime paid one thousand dollars for a plate of pork and beans. Again, there are numberless merchants on their way to New York and Europe to replenish their stocks, and who think existence outside of California is a bore. Then you should see the Original Cheap Johnnys retiring to Europe with their piles, or seeking new fields for speculation in fancy soaps, needles, pins, and tapes. These are the lights, now I will give you a faint picture of the shades.

In the steerage there is a maniac who calls himself Washington the Second, and dresses himself in complete Continental costume. His cue is as white as flax, and his whole appearance is cleanly in the extreme. In his hand he carries a small galvanic battery. "Try it, gentlemen," says he, "it is exhilarating, but not intoxicating. Ladies! try it. Ladies gratis, gentlemen half-price." He has his passage in the steerage for sixteen dollars, though the Captain, (he and a few women in the steerage are probably the only persons on board who would have dared to penetrate to the Captain's sanctum), has given him the entré of the ladies' cabin, and he makes no little by his "ladies gratis, gentlemen half-price battery." There is a poor cripple with his leg amputated at the hip, on his way to New York for a new one. Yesterday I saw him sitting so long solitary and neglected, I took a seat beside him, endeavoring to interest him; he was so coarse, however, and so unappreciative that he frightened me off. In the steerage there is a pitiful sight: a boy dying of consumption, and who is more grateful to God for the sixteen dollars which enables him to turn his face mother-ward, than is the signora for the treasure with which she is to dazzle the eyes of the denizens of Madrid. Mrs. McMurtry and Mrs. Reese watch over him like guardian angels, and see every day that he is carried on deck for air and sunshine, as well as that he had his food from the purser's table. Never did you lay eyes on such a herd as that in the second cabin, to say nothing of the steerage. It is enough to make an infidel turn Christian for fear of meeting such associates in the next world; really, I think fear might awaken him to a sense of a hereafter. And yet there are excellent people, people whose intrinsic worth the pen of a Dickens might teach one to appreciate, as well as people who never knew second-class any thing, until they lost their all in California, only too happy in the means of securing a second-class ticket. There are dozens who would have paid me a premium on my tickets, but for the unobliging agent, Knight. I have seen a very respectable looking lady who passed Marion and myself, the day we went to beg him to transfer the tickets, on the very steps of the company's office, and who says she would have given me whatever sum I might have demanded for the tickets. She was compelled to be at home to attend a law-suit, and took second-class accommodations; but she rues it bitterly. There are scores of miserable nondescript creatures--and what do you think of three hundred and thirty-three children--and already a birth! Mrs. Marshall has taken the poor mother in her charge, and is begging old linen, in which to dress the baby. Poor little thing, born in the steerage!

"You bewilder me," said sister; "take breath, and let me tell you of my limited experience;--Henry, you know, paid four hundred dollars in coin for our passage to New York. This is my berth, and the one above it belongs of right to him. But you should see the grand Moguless who honors us not by sharing but appropriating our vested rights. She is a curate's wife, of Norwegian parentage, and comes from the north-west. She has three children like stair-steps, with only a year between them. Well, she puts the children, two of them to bed in Henry's berth, and herself in her own with the youngest. Every drawer, and shelf, and hook upon which anything might be hung, you see, she has appropriated. The children scream, and 'throw up,' and quarrel with each other, and ignore my existence quite as much as their mother. Henry is making arrangements to secure another room; she will then have it all to herself."

The knight of the chain now came by. "Your sister continues sea-sick, I hear," said he; "I have ample supplies, and if you need anything whatever, call upon me. Remember," said he, jocosely, "half of everything I own is yours."

In a moment he returned, with some extract of ginger; she tried it, and found it beneficial. Subsequently he informed me that he had made all the money he wanted, and was on his way to Europe to enjoy it.

"Did you make it mining?" inquired I.

"No," he replied, "I made it keeping of a saloon."

Monsieur Langlais, who is probably the only one of the Messieurs whose name will appear in these pages, placed me at once under obligations for courtesy. We found also a tie in our mutual acquaintance with Roland Grattan. "Mr. Grattan," he told us, "was deeply lamented in the place in which he resided. In fact, he was a young man of a high order of talent. Mrs. Marshall, however, can tell you more about his death than I." Mrs. Marshall gave us the following short but deeply interesting account of his illness: "Our minister, Rev. Mr. Logan, told him he must die. Mr. Grattan replied: 'I know it; I am not afraid to die.' 'But, said Mr. Logan, 'it is one thing to die like the unthinking horse expiring upon the battle-field, and another quite to die the death of the Christian.' 'I trust I am prepared to meet my God,' was Roland's answer. Mr. Logan then administered the sacrament, and Mr. Grattan expired during the following day." Lilian had no sooner heard this than her countenance brightened. She seemed to regard Roland as no longer dead, but living in a better land. And she dreamed of him waking or sleeping. Indeed, her memory painted him so vividly, that she saw the loving glances of his eyes, and heard the winning tones of his voice calling her to the fairer, purer land. Ay, sorrow had softened her young heart, and she seemed only anxious to strew her pathway to Roland's abode, with the flowers of faith, love and charity. On the voyage she became deeply attached to Mrs. Marshall, who evidently reciprocated her affection. Sometimes, with Sir Walter Scott she would say, {poem, centered, smaller font}

"When musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone."

Again, she dwelt in thought so much with Roland, that she could say with Campbell-- {poem, centered, small font}

"Nor would I change my buried love For any one of living mould."

{centered} CHAPTER III. {CENTERED, SMALL FONT} SABBATH UPON THE SEA.

SUNDAY, May 20th, the sun rose upon us somewhere in the latitude of Cape St. Lucas, and with my first glance at the smiling face of ocean, these lines of Byron flitted through my memory-- {poem, centered, small font}

"Time writes no wrinkles on thy azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld thee, thou rollest now."

To the Christian, the Sabbath of the soul asserts her calm, serene, conscious majesty as well upon the sea as upon the land. Nearly every one is upon deck, enjoying the scene. This morning, several strange, pale faces, which tell their own tale of suffering, are to be seen for the first time. Everybody--even Washington the Second--comes out fresh in holiday attire. The English Doctor from Vancouver's Island reads the sublime ritual of his church, and the prayers for those who go to sea in ships. After lunch the scene is still so enchanting, that we again assemble upon deck. Not a ripple appears to disturb the glassy surface of the ocean. Presently Brooks cries out: "Oh, mamma, I see the sign of a hotel." As the blue summits of the coast range could barely be distinguished in the dim distance, Monsieur Langlais and some of his party require of Brooks an explanation. "Don't you see, mamma, the whale spouts?" by this time everybody was looking at them. I shook my head at Brooks.

"Brooks," said Monsieur Langlais, "tell me vat have vale sphouts to do vid de hotel shigns?"

"When I was a little boy," replied Brooks, stretching himself to his full height, "Mamma wrote a story for me, and she called it 'The Hotel which Jonah Stopped at on His Way to Tarshish.'"

"Madame! madame!" cried Monsieur Langlais. "Vat vas von idea capital; vat vas quite orishinal, madame."

Colonel Fisher took it up and laughed quite boisterously, as was his style, remarking to Brooks, "Well, my son, there's no lack of Jonah's hotels now, if we can judge by the signs."

"There have been at least a dozen fountains playing upon the ocean's surface. You should have been here to see them," said I to Mrs. Reese, who had just come up.

"Yes, madame," added Monsieur Langlais, "and you should get Brooks to tell you about Jonah's hotel, l' est tres bein, madame."

We sat upon the deck until the sun sank to rest in his ocean bed, and our first Sabbath upon the sea passed away. As the moon came out, and the twinkling stars one by one joined her, Monsieur Langlais said, "Madame, have you observe ze phosphoz like stars following ze wessel in ze vaters?"

As neither of us were at all affected by the motion of the vessel, which is much more perceptible at the stern than about the centre, we sat there a long time watching the sea-horses' manes gaily studded with the mysterious phosphorescent stars, as they followed frolicking in the wake of the ship.

Monsieur Langlais made several desperate efforts to express his thoughts. Finally, seeing the language he wished for would not come, he said, "Madame, I navir so much regret zat I have take so leetle pains to acquire ze Anglice langwash as now. Surely, madame, vous parlez Francais besser as I do ze Anglice."

"Je ne le pense pas, Monsieur."

About this time we noticed that the vessel seemed to stem the current more laboriously than usual, and upon inquiry, we learned that we were encountering the current from the Gulf of California, and that we would be fortunate, indeed, if we passed Tehauntepec without a storm. From Point Lobos down, we have had up-head lights, as the privateer Shenandoah was last heard from off the coast of Australia; and our captain thinks she may be by this time on his trail. At Manzanilla we cast anchor and sent passengers ashore. Monsieur Langlais brought me his opera glasses, through which we could see the lazy natives carrying water upon their heads, or lounging about under the shadows of the cocoa-nut and palm-trees.

The morning before we reached Acapulco, Monsieur told me that a party were going ashore for lunch, and asked if I would not join them.

No sooner had we anchored in the beautiful little bay of Acapulco, than a swarm of little statuesque-looking natives came paddling their canoes, with far more grace and dexterity and less fear than most boys would handle a bridle-rein, around the steamer. And up they threw their ropes, to which baskets were attached, for you to send down your gold and silver money in exchange for oranges, bananas, lemons, limes, cocoa-nuts, aligator pears, plums, and various fruits, delicious but unknown to us, as well as shells, coral, etc. I was watching them trade with Brooks with no little interest, when Mr. Mathew came hurriedly, inquiring if I was all ready to go ashore. As we ladies descended into the little boat, with an awning over it, the young native, in all his innocence and simplicity, commenced dunning us at once for our fare. Mr. Mathew, I could but observe, made several ineffectual attempts to check him. Finally, despairing, he said, "Signor pay all, signoras no pay." The native seemed satisfied, and commenced vigorously plying his oars. As we approached the shore, several little divers came swimming around the boat. Mr. Mathew pitched a piece of silver into the sparkling waters of the bay. In an instant a little Mexican came to the surface, blowing the water from his mouth and showing the dime between his teeth. They shook their heads, however, saying they did not care much about diving, as a shark had caught a boy the week previous in the bay. No sooner had my feet touched the landing than a signorita of unusual beauty, and apparently as innocent as Mother Eve the day of her creation, handed me a bouquet, saying, "I give it you." Meantime, another boat had landed just after ours, and its inmates had joined us. Mr. Mathew, who held on his arm the little "Pearl" from the Pacific--a young lady named Pearl, and born on the Pacific Ocean, near Cape Horn, apparently about eighteen years ago--very willingly, no doubt, consigned me to a Mr. Rollins, who spoke Spanish like a native, and who had been mining in Durango. My dark-eyed signorita, of the Oleander bouquet, however, continued to follow me and chatter Spanish, the only word of which I could understand being picayune.

Mr. Rollins turned and handed her a piece of silver, saying, "They are so polite they do not offer to sell their flowers, but expect you to give them a present of money in return." As Mr. Rollins was an entire stranger to me, I could not resist a feeling of slight remorse for my stupidity and verdancy.

Almost every step we took was interrupted by natives with delicious fruits and flowers for sale. At length we reached the hotel. Monsieur Langlais, who had gone ahead with the San Francisco ladies, met me at once. "Come, madame, an see my countrywoman." So saying, he led me into the kitchen. Beside the range there was a man standing, busy with some culinary concerns, but I saw no one else. "Where is your countrywoman, Monsieur?"

"There she is," he replied, pointing to the man. "She dresses in masculine attire, has her hair cut short, and supervises all the duties of the hotel, which belongs to her. She is van femme grande," says Monsieur, laughing and shrugging his shoulders. Monsieur then threw a long string of shells over my shoulders. "See, madame, Mademoiselle Alvord and Madame Eaton vears necklace like yours. Vill you keep it, madame, as a memento of Acapulco?"

"Thank you, Monsieur. I will wear it for your sake; it is picturesque--it is becoming, Monsieur."

"Je vous remercie."

The houses had very thick walls and large rooms, so that they were quite cool and pleasant. There was an old chapel built soon after the landing of Cortez, by the Spaniards, and Monsieur Langlais informed me that the troops of his Maitre Imperiale had occupied the place a short time anterior to our visit. There were shops, but with no signs to indicate who kept them, or what they contained for sale. I was very much in need of a thick, barege veil, and quite provoked to learn that a friend had purchased one, upon my return to the Sacramento. Handkerchiefs and veils, and in fact any thing of a floating nature, disappeared most mysteriously on the ship; and so my veil, two yards in length, had flown, leaving that complexion, of which I had taken such care upon the sanded plain, exposed to the burning rays of a tropical sun, on the watery main. To my surprise, however, I did not tan so much on the whole voyage as I have on fishing excursions, before now, in one day. There was a splendid United States man-of-war in the harbor, and upon our return to the vessel, we met some of the officers, with exceedingly lady-like, graceful signoritas, as well as some very accomplished Spanish gentlemen who had been to pay the Sacramento a visit.

The signoritas wore their mantillas so very gracefully, that a bonnet would have detracted from the ensemble. Had our American ladies but a tithe of this Spanish grace, I would advocate the abrogation of the bonnet lace entirely, quite as much from a feeling of mercy to milliners, who seem to have run to the little end of their wits in the present day, as from admiration of the charming mantillas of the signoritas of Acapulco. I came upon the party of visitors quite unexpectedly, and to my surprise, one of the senors took pains to bid me a very complimentary adois. Subsequently I learned that he had mistaken me for my sister, who had charmed him by her admiration of his music, and possibly by her black eyes.

About twilight we left the beautiful bay, with its islands, or mountains rising from the sea, and covered with tropical vegetation, behind us. We begin now to look out for the Southern Cross, and mistake a constellation we have seen from our infancy, for it. Mr. Mathew, who has made the voyage many times, tells us that we can only see it by getting up at four o'clock in the morning, even when we are within a few degrees of the equator, as we shall be in the Bay of Panama. This evening, as usual, the San Francisco ladies are promenading on deck. Every body is talking about the surgeon's being so desperately smitten of a lady on her way to Washington city. Miss Alvord, and a young and very attractive widow, Mrs. Eaton, Mr. Mathew and his Pearl, Monsieur Langlais and beautiful Mrs. Marshall, all of the élite in fact, are exercising.

Brooks and I also take our usual evening stroll, finally we drop down upon a vacant sofa. Not far from us we behold a fat woman, not so very fat either, but so heavy and inert, that she looks as though she must go to the bottom sooner than a shark could possibly catch her. The tall and graceful Miss Alvord and her lover came by. Says the envious lump of human lead, by name Mrs. Edinger, "That's it; just tie your hair up in a gundy sack, and put some red streamlets on't, and a string of shells round your neck, like a Injun, and strut around, and you'd be better'n your betters. Look at that un, how high she steps," as the surgeon and his enamorata passed. And so they continued, she and her second-cabin companions, to make malicious remarks about every one who made any pretension whatever. At length the subject changed to one of pecuniary interest to the ladies of the second cabin, viz., the extra charge for baggage in crossing the Isthmus of Darien.

Said Mrs. Edinger, who seemed to think she did the talking so well, that she was of right entitled to a monopoly, "I am as mad as a hornet, when I think of what lots of good things I left behind in Sacramento. Twenty cents a pound for plunder, may be, is monstrous steep, but for all a' that, I am sorry now I hadn't a nipped that castor unbeknowns to Edinger. Ef I had a done it, I'd a had a blowin' up at Panamare when the stuff was weighed, and we'd be thar afore long. We've crosst the troffix now."

"I be's glad of it," says Mrs. Cohen, (wife of Michael, the original Cheap Johnny, seeking a new field for speculation), "dem's a bad lot of dems down in der shecon carbin. I navir vas mit sish beebles perfore."

"That's so," emphatically rejoins Mrs. Edinger. "I thought in my soul I would burst open a laffin at dem wimmin quarreling over the chair. Don't you b'lieve one of 'em went clean to de captain! and nobody haint 'lowed to go to de captain; it's de pusser that 'tends to 'sputes 'mong de passengers and sich like."

"Vat did de do mit de shair?" asks Mrs. Cohen.

"Oh, they jiked it in two pieces, and one flung her'n overboard, and t'other kept her half for the satisfaction of provin' 'twas her'n. Ha! ha! ha!" continues Mrs. Edinger, "did you see dem wimmin last night? Miss Little, she stole Miss Coonses' hoops, and ha! ha! her false teeth, what she had slipped away under the head of her bed, ha! ha! ha! 'twas better'n a show, clown an all flung in."

Finally Mrs. Edinger and her companions disappeared, leaving very few, except Brooks and myself, on deck.

{centered} CHAPTER IV. {CENTERD, SMALL FONTS} NEPTUNE AND CUPID.

BROOKS was sleeping sweetly, and as I sat there gazing fondly upon him, musing upon the mysteries of sea, and earth, and sky, Mr. Rollins recognized me and seated himself beside us. And somewhat in this fashion he conversed:

"I have traveled a great deal by land and water, and I have always found it of the first importance to make friends. Once I saved a lady's life in a disaster at sea, merely because she had been polite to me, i.e. I should have passed her by as I did others, but that I singled her out simply because she had been so affable, and I fancied her. I have been over the length and breadth of the continent on business for 'our house' in New York, (a firm of world-wide reputation), until one place is almost as much home to me as another."

"I supposed you were a Southern or a Western gentleman," said I.

"No, I was born in New York: my father died when I was very young, and my mother soon married again. I had a brother John, two years older than myself. He did not like the treatment he received from our step-father, so he told me one night, in confidence, that he meant to run away. I had no thought of his carrying out any such rash purpose; but sure enough, with the light of morning we discovered that he was gone.

"Years passed, my step-father died, and I kept a little shop, by which I supported my mother and myself by working at my trade, that of a silversmith. We were getting along very smoothly, when one evening my brother John, quite as unceremoniously as he left, walked in. He had been all these years at sea, and he told us many tales of his adventures, though he remained with us but a short time. He had been with us but two weeks in fact, when he one day stretched himself up, remarking, with a yawn, that the land was a dry place, and with no intimation of his intentions, he again put out to sea. Mother and I pursued once more the even tenor of our way. So one night as we sat by the fireside, she said, 'James, I think it is time you were looking up a wife--I am getting old and cannot be expected to remain with you long.'

"'Well, mother,' I answered, 'that is something I never thought of, but if you say so I'll marry to-morrow. But where am I to find a woman who will have me? I don't know any body.'

"'You remember dancing with a girl, a tall girl with black eyes, at your uncle John's, last Christmas, don't you?' inquired my mother.

"'Oh, yes. I believe I do--Mehetible Waters was her name. Is she the one you have picked out for me?'

"'I think she will make you a good wife,' was mother's answer.

"I went at once to see Mehetible, told her I came to ask her to marry me. She referred me to her father. The old man said, 'he thought the whole thing rather sudden; I had better consider on it; we knew so little of each other.'

"The next time I went to the house it was to my own wedding. As luck would have it, my wife turned out to be a very good woman: but that's no way to do; a man needs something more than goodness in a wife. Poor thing, I haven't seen her for three years; her health is very bad. I do not think she will live long."

The story was so quaint and simple, so out of the way, and yet so in the ways of the children of men, that after Mr. Rollins left I relapsed into my reveries, which he had so pleasantly interrupted. At length I fell into a slumber, with my head pillowed upon Brooks' innocent bosom. He had moved a little; but opening his eyes and seeing who it was that disturbed his slumbers, he had smiled and fallen asleep once more. As I lay there in the moonlight, I saw the white beard of Neptune floating over the waves. Now and then the dolphin he bestrode would rise to the surface, but so charmed was I with his diamond-bestudded beard, white as the driven snow, and his eyes radiant as Jupiter and Venus in the heavens above me, that I gazed transfixed in speechless fascination. Presently he spake in a voice which, though powerful, was strangely low and sweet. "Mortal," said he, "here is a book, which has been dropped into the sea. It is written in a strange tongue to the mermaids below, and I give it to you." And I saw that it was a curiously shaped volume, with lids like a sea-shell, and leaves of the roseate hue, of Roman pearls, and with golden lettering and a clasp of gold, surmounted by a winged Cupid, carved so cunningly that it must have been done in the Eternal city which reposes upon the banks of the beautiful Mediterranean. At this moment, a tiny being came floating upon a pearly boat with a rosy lining, over the beard of great Neptune. Evidently, as is his wont, he had paid some attention to appearances, for he wore a rainbow girdle, carried with peerless grace a gilded bow and arrow, and his fairy bark was enwreathed in green sea-weed. And as Neptune disclosed the volume, Cupid, for he it was, cried, "Hold; the book is mine. It tells of my deeds upon land and sea." But haughty Neptune gave a scornful laugh, saying, "Take it who can: since the morning stars sang together, the inspired poets have sung of my power."

"The sea is His, and he made it," says One, thus typifying Omnipotence by me.

"And when the morning stars sang together," replies Cupid, "man, my slave, was made lord of earth and sea."

Neptune made answer somewhat hoarsely, and with less of hauteur in his manner, though with the fire gleaming from his eyes: "And what, pray you, good sir, would be Earth, man's heritage, without me? A desert waste, but for the children who draw nourishment from my bosom."

"True," rejoined Cupid; "but, as well might it be a desert waste, if I dwelt not among the children of men. Beside your boasted offspring, who go singing their songs of praise to the Almighty, on their way to receive their parent's kiss, dwell my happy children. And millions of them are sleeping the sleep that knows no waking, upon your coral reefs, and beside your murmuring rivers."

Even in my dream I thought of Ivanhoe,--he who loved and was beloved by my youngest sister, save she who {poem, small font, first line indented}

"Lay i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!"

Ivanhoe, who sleeps "with his martial cloak around him," beside the low, murmuring Alabama. By this time great Neptune appeared somewhat appeased, for he said, "The moonbeams are kissing the cheek of one of your sleeping daughters, on yonder frail bark, which I might lash into a thousand atoms by a stroke of my hand; she knows the tongue in which the book is writ, and I but proposed to give it her."

"She who sleeps beside her fair-haired boy?" asked Cupid.

"Yes; she knows me well. Give to her."

Neptune then threw the volume upon the surface of a wave, towards the vessel. I caught it; but just then some one touched me on the shoulder, saying: "It is time to go below, as they are putting out the lights," and I dropped it into the sea.

The vision was so palpable, that I sat there in the soft tropical moonlight, gazing abstractedly into the ocean, half hoping to see, with my mortal eyes, the fabled gods of whom I had been dreaming. I had much ado to waken Brooks, and when we entered the cabin, there was but a solitary lamp glimmering in the distance. As soon as I disposed of my half-sleeping charge, I sat in the dark, unbraiding my hair, and this thought came to me:

There are some fugitive pieces in my portfolio which my good California mother insisted I should send by pater familias to the office of the "Golden Era," and of which my friends--partial ones, no doubt--said pleasant things.

I'll collect the little fugitives, and with the addition of stories, such as that related this evening by Mr. Rollins, I'll make a book, and call it "Cupid's Album."

The idea pleased me, and yet it half startled me. What, I write a book? Am I the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, to be thinking of such a thing? The laughing philosopher, what was his name? He should be here to hear me say so. But I said nothing of it to any one, least of all to my sister, because I knew they would be thinking it presumptuous in one whom they saw drinking ice-water, eating oranges and bananas, to say nothing of beef-steak, to be meditating upon an occupation so ethereal. People in the present day, if they but choose it, may have such dainty food, that one might well be expected to feed upon nectar who aspired to pander to the public palate.

However, I clung to the idea, and was so well entertained thereby, that I half-way forgave the ungallant knight, because, thought I, had he transferred the tickets, I should not have heard the simple story which suggested the dream.

But then, I remembered the prophecy of the La Fayette sybil, which I had an idea would be fulfilled, in the visits we proposed to nature in her grandest manifestations, so my pardon was but partial.

{centered} CHAPTER V. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} PETS AND LOVES.

I HAVE written to little purpose, O most courteous reader! if you have not formed the opinion that we had a full cargo, with our three hundred and thirty-three children--and two births now--and so what will you think when I relate how, at Acapulco, we took on a super-cargo (there is such a term, is there not?) of chattering paroquets. I was scarcely aware of its extent until next morning, when I looked along the guards, beholding senhoras and their black-eyed piccaninnies, fraus and their little frauliens, mesdames and their enfants, even my sister's whilom room-mate with her triplets, Mrs. Calburn and the "King Charles," Mrs. Edinger and her friend Mrs. Cohen, all with baskets full of the soulless, green, limping, quaking paroquets.

We had likewise additional, human freight. There was a Spanish lady, fair as the fairest Anglo-Saxon, and she had a handsome husband of a darker type. They had no children and no paroquets, though the senhora carried a lap-dog in her arms perpetually. I forget to tell you in the outset of Patrick asking me early in the morning to put up my things, as he wished every day at eleven o'clock to have the room ready for "inspection."

Now, it so happened that the purser, in his rounds, discovered the lap-dog, refusing to allow it to be kept in the state-room.

And the senhora, with a devotion worthy of a better cause, took, in place of a berth in the state-room, a sofa in the lower first cabin, so as to remain with the darling dog, from which she had not been separated for eleven years. There was an air of nobility about the handsome Spaniard, and I could but observe with interest and curiosity his tenderness to the dog as well as to the senhora. "Love me, love my dog," was the principle upon which I accounted for it.

One day I asked some one, "How it was that my sister's whilom room-mate, Mrs. Callahan, escaped 'inspection?'" "Oh, the purser had heard of her, so he stood off at a long distance, peeping in, and turning his back in a jiffy," was the reply.

The weather was beautiful; the surface of the sea calm as that of a lakelet, and with the idea of the album still in my mind, I put on my hat and gloves and ascended to the deck.

There was a lady on board with whom we had traveled up the Missouri to St. Joseph on the steamer Fanny Ogden. She was a very industrious body, being always busy with knitting or sewing, or some feminine handicraft. As she was sitting a little apart from the assembled mass of humanity under the awning, I drew my steamer-chair, of pleasant memory, beside her, and said I, "Mrs. Sullivan, I have a fancy for love stories. Will you not tell me the history of your courtship and marriage?" Her sweet face brightened, and after describing her, I will relate her simple narrative. She had almost too much flesh to be symmetrical, and yet she was by no means devoid of grace, if you can understand the paradox. Her eyes were a bright hazel, and her mouth wore a very winning expression. Moreover, she had a sweet voice; in fact, she looked as though she had been made expressly to be loved. Her husband, who was nearly always by her side, was a born Irishman, with the generous impulses of his race; in fact, with many of the characteristics of the gentlemen who have been aforetime complimented in these pages, though betraying the want of education and lack of polish requisite to the character. He was, however, quite as far above the ordinary type of his countrymen one sees in America as he was beneath the paragon Celt. The voyage to California had been made on Mr. Sullivan's account, he being like unto some of the rest of us, in search of Hygeia.

The doctors at home, however, had not treated him quite so well as ours, since he had paid them up per thousands, before they sent him journeying. His faithful wife had left her three little children in charge of his mother, and nursed him, no tongue can tell how patiently. One charm about this couple was, that they made no pretension whatever, and yet they carried about them that air of unconscious ease and confidence which a consciousness of money invariably imparts. Says Mrs. Sullivan, beginning her story, "I was a poor orphan child, and early was sent out to service. Barney, when I was about fifteen, was a rich mechanic, who came to the house about some business. It was in answer to the door-bell that I first met him. After this he came to see me frequently; indeed, the first time he saw me, he asked me if he might keep company with me. Whenever he came," said she, laughing with all the simplicity of a child, "I would never stand on the front door-step beside him, nor go to the door so as to be seen, because I knew the neighbors would say, 'The rich Barney Sullivan meant no good by his going so often to see poor Mary Rosche.' He loved me, though, and he told me so, and the priest married us. I went to live with his relations; he was always kind and tender, and gave me nice things, such as I never expected to be able to afford, and his people were good to me too, but we did not suit each other, his mother and sisters and I, and I was often unhappy. So one day he came home, and I was in tears--tears I could not hide--and he said, 'What are you crying about, Mary?' I told him his mother and sisters were good people, better, maybe, than I, but we did not suit, and I had not been happy for some time. 'And what is the use of crying about it?' said Barney. 'Why not tell me about it at once? I will get you another house right away.' Barney then moved West, and he became a great horse trader, and he lost his money. We had a cabin, and my first baby was born on a buffalo robe on the floor. Barney did not stay poor long, though. Maybe you heard of his buying horses by the dozen, in California, and sending them to Salt-Lake, where he made a nice little spec on them. Wasn't it funny, buying horses like chickens!" Mrs. Barney--Mrs. Sullivan, I should say--laughed, and I saw that she had something amusing on her mind, so I asked her of what she was thinking. "You remember," said she, "when we were at the Pacific Hotel, in St. Joseph, you and I were talking of buying side saddles, and promising ourselves great pleasure in riding horseback." I remembered it perfectly. "Your party and ours took different routes all the way," she continued. "You went by the coach over the Sieras, while we took the Truckee route. Well, on the borders of California, or I should say in Nevada, we commenced selling off our extras. I told Thomas, one of the drivers, that now was a good time to sell my saddle, as we were near the journey's end. Well, one day we met a man with a woman riding behind him. Just after they passed Thomas said: 'There was a chance to sell your saddle.' 'Maybe so,' said I, 'try him.' Thomas soon came back, asking how much I would take for it; fifteen dollars, I told him, would be fair, (I had given twenty.) The man agreed to give ten, but no more. I told Thomas to take it. The couple then rode up to a ranche, and pretty soon I saw the man put my saddle on a horse which the woman, a young thing, mounted, and on they went. Not long after this we stopped to noon. While we were eating dinner a stranger came up: said he, 'Do you know who that was you sold your saddle to?' 'I do not,' I answered. 'Well,' he replied, 'that was my wife that man was running off with. You might have asked him any price for the saddle, he'd a paid it. We have just been married a year and I did love her; but if she prefers his gold to my love, she's welcome to go--that's all I have to say.'"

Mr. Sullivan came up, saying something about "she," she being a great personage in his eyes, and, after laughing at his joke, I left. In so doing, I encountered Mrs. Wilgus, from Portland, Oregon. "You seem to have been having a social time with Mrs. Sullivan over there," she said.

"Yes, she has been relating her experience in matters of love and matrimony," I rejoined. "There is something very lovable about Mrs. Sullivan--so much of the native lady--and she is so artless, withal, that I love to listen to her talk, it is refreshing." I then repeated the saddle anecdote, whereupon Mrs. Wilgus remarked that she had been one of the minor characters in an affair quite out of the usual way "in the domain of Cupid," which will be given in the next chapter.

{centered} CHAPTER VI. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} MISS PENAULT'S RIDE. "Ill betide the school wherein I learned to ride." {right justified} BYRON.

"IN the spring of 1848, I was one of a party of emigrants who started across the Plains. You may think, madam, that you know something of the difficulties and hardships attending the journey overland, and of the out and the in turns human nature takes; but I am convinced from your own accounts that it can be nothing now to what it was then. There were half a dozen families in our company, and we made the journey with ox-teams, preferable in some respects to mules. Mr. Penault's family, consisting of his wife and six children, Mr. Satterlee's, of a wife and four children, the eldest son, Frederick, being then about twenty-one years of age; my own three daughters, all now the mothers of happy families; and the sons and daughters of Mr. Dickerson, Mr. Mealey, and Mr. Johnson,--as you may imagine had many ups and downs on a seven months' voyage in those times. The young people, however, appeared to enjoy it highly; and they flirted and broke off, and made love again, and quarreled as lovers will--all except Julia Penault and Frederick Satterlee. And Mrs. Penault said that 'their constancy was all pure stubbornness,' because she was so much opposed to it.

"Julia was a tall girl with flashing black eyes, and cheeks from which she was forever trying in vain to rob the roses. She had long black waving hair, and a figure as beautiful as her face. Whatever Julia Penault wore, looked pretty. She could not even disguise the beauty of her feet in the coarse shoes, necessary to be worn on such a journey. I remember she wore a peculiar ring, shaped like the dial of a clock, such a ring as might have looked no better than a pewter ring on my fingers, but which looked so beautiful on her's that all the girls were wishing for one like it. No one could ever tell why it was that Mrs. Penault disliked Frederick Satterlee so much: true he was by no means a match in beauty for Julia, but he was well enough looking, and I dare say Julia, who was deeply in love with him, thought him handsome enough. I think it quite probable that Mrs. Penault thought that Julia's beauty ought to command a higher price in the market, for the Satterlees were poor. Julia was, however, as obstinate as she was beautiful, and in order to prevent the marriage from taking place immediately upon their reaching their destination, Mrs. Penault, to gain time, agreed to give her consent when they became settled. The likes and dislikes one forms on the Plains, are life-lasting you know from experience, probably."

"Indeed I do, Mrs. Wilgus," I replied, "and the sort of education one receives there, can be obtained no where else. I remember in Salt Lake Valley how one good minister laughed at Lilian for saying she 'would hereafter consider no one her equal who had not crossed the Plains, and that she had learned to sympathise with the Israelites in their wanderings through the wilderness, and to forgive them for sins at which she used to marvel.' By-the-way, speaking of the Israelites, one day as we were slowly wending our way in sight of City Rocks, the point at which you turn off for Oregon, Mrs. Wilgus, we saw a cloud come down from the mountain and stop right in front of us and commence raining down its contents as distinctly as I see that sea-gull now following the ship: and at another time, while I was driving the ambulance, we saw a cloud of dust rise and continue to ascend, taking its place among the other clouds, and looking as silvery in the sunlight as they, and yet we knew, for we had not taken our eyes off it, that it was nothing but dust. Excuse me, Mrs. Wilgus, for the interruption, you little know how deeply I am interested."

"The first settlement we reached," continued Mrs. Wilgus, "was a Protestant Mission under the supervision of the Reverend Mr. Robinson, who represented that they were very much in need of a teacher. It was late in the season, snow was falling, prospects for winter-quarters poor. Mr. Penault and my husband concluded it was best for us to remain at the mission until spring. I was especially anxious to find a resting place, as I was just recovering from a long spell of sickness. In order to please her mother, Julia Penault consented to accept the situation as teacher. Frederick was bitterly opposed to it, but respecting Julia's deference to her mother, deeply as he felt it, he went on his way to Portland in search of employment. Before they parted, however, they renewed their vows of constancy--Julia promising that if a given length of time did not find her mother's prejudices obliterated, she would reward him for his present sacrifice, despite her parent's opposition. The Catholics had planted a mission at this place previous to the Protestants, and converted a number of Indians to their faith. After resting several weeks, I began to get about and to long for the genial climate which we had nndertaken the journey to search for, and it seemed to be impressed on my mind that I must go away with my daughters. At my urgent request my husband gathered up and started; the other families accompanied us to the lower part of Oregon, where we all stopped for the winter.

"Just one week after we left the mission it was attacked by Indians, and thirty-five or forty persons killed, leaving only two or three men. The young chief of the Indians was a fine athletic specimen of his race, with that rare grace and dignity of mien which is nowhere else to be seen except in these wild, untutored "children of the wind," as they call themselves.* The young chief had been about the mission frequently, and there had become deeply enamored of the charms of Julia Penault. At the massacre, he was absent, professing to {footnote, centered, small font}

* The Apaches worship the Spirit of the Wind.

be a devout Catholic, but commissioned his men to bring Julia to him. She, poor thing, vowed she would resist unto death. They sent a swift messenger to know his will. "Bring her dead or alive," was the answer.

"Those who surived the massacre were held as prisoners, and were told that not one would be left alive, if they did not use their utmost endeavors to induce her to go to him. Of course they gathered around her, beseeching and entreating her to preserve their lives and her own. For their sakes--not her own, she consented to go. Poor, poor Julia, she might well say, "I'll betide the school wherein I learned to ride."

"They lashed her to a pony, lengthwise, starting at daylight, made full gallop, traveling until nearly dark, over the mountains, when they reached a small hut which proved to be the house of a priest. The chieftain, or Son of the Wind, as he was called, was there, came out, took her off the pony, carrying her in his arms, more dead than alive; got warm water, bathed her, put new clothes on her, and cooked something for her to eat, which she refused; and for three days she resisted taking a mouthful. Good Father Kealty, with tears of sympathy in his eyes, besought her to spare their lives. He knew the Indians well, and that their thirst for blood was not half appeased. Not long before the massacre, the fears of the whites had been aroused, and in order to try the Indians, they had held a council to which they invited the old chief, father of the Wind. Upon a table the white men placed their presents; silver and gold on one side, and bullets, lead, powder, and butchers' knives on the other; as they feared, the Indians chose the latter, which told the whites with a fearful voice, that they must look to their lives.

"The priest was not present at this treaty, though he had been warned of the appetite for blood, indicated by the choice, and the massacre was but a fearful fulfillment of his forebodings."

"Mrs. Wilgus, permit me to interrupt you a moment: "Did the white men allow them to take the bullets and knives?"

"Oh, no; that was merely intended to try the Indians; the whites refused to give them any thing when they chose the implements of war, because they knew it would never do to seem afraid of them; but they watched them, sleeping for some time on their arms. These children of the wind are, however, as fleet and subtle as the spirit they profess to worship, and instead of attacking those who were prepared for them, they fell upon the unsuspecting Protestants at their mission. Beyond a doubt, at the instigation of the young chief, however, whose evident admiration for Julia, had been the subject of many a thoughtless jest among the ladies at the mission. All this time 'Son of the Wind'--I wish I could remember his Indian name--watched Julia narrowly; at length he left her, placing food and water by her side, and sending Father Kealty to expostulate with her.

"It must have been a picture to look upon, Julia, in her brilliant brunette beauty, with her long, waving hair, black as the raven's wing, and most beautiful in its graceful disorder, and her faultless figure robed in soft folds of bright scarlet oil chintz, a dress the chieftain himself had prepared for her, and the priest in his black cossack and rosary kneeling beside her. 'Child,' said he, 'would you witness another frightful human sacrifice, another feast of the flesh and blood of your own dear friends, then refuse longer to partake of this food. You may not value your life as you do your virgin innocence; but the lives of others--the lives of fathers and mothers are in your hands. Can you have heard their helpless bairns calling to you to spare their parents? You relent, Julia, I know you cannot.' As he said this, his voice faltered, and he held the food to her lips. Nature gave way. The food she smelled as only the famishing can smell, overcame her. She partook of it.

"The chief, meanwhile, was looking unobserved upon the scene. He could restrain his savage joy no longer. He laughed, and danced, and clapped his hands in wild delight, ending by taking her in his arms and carrying her to his wigwam.

"Poor, poor Julia?{sic} she felt that youth, and hope, and life, and love were winging their everlasting flight, and the key of doom was turned upon her.

"The other women at the mission were compelled to become the wives of Indians; but, strange to say, in all these instances, there was no offspring to perpetuate the sacrifice. As soon as word could be sent to Washington, troops were ordered to the rescue; but, owing to the slow way of communication, it was late in the spring before the captives were released--by purchase. Frederick Saterlee meanwhile was almost a maniac in his grief. And when he met Julia, she looked as though her heart had been turned to stone.

"Frederick," said she, "I release you from all the vows we so hopefully renewed the morning of our separation."

"Julia," he replied, (the memory of her wrongs and her tortures, and his own, choking his voice), "Julia, would you add the last drop to the bitter cup of sorrow I have already drained to the dregs! Julia, I know that your mother only persuaded you to remain as a teacher, in the hope of breaking our engagement forever; but if you have been true to me in heart, I would prove to her that she had made a just estimate of my character, if I released you for the misfortunes that have befallen you. So, dearest, if I can but see the roses upon your cheeks, and the smile once more in your bright eyes, I shall ask for nothing more."

Mrs. Penault was now more than willing, and they were married in Portland by the Rev. Mr. J----, of the Episcopal Church. Julia looked much chastened and subdued by her sufferings, but my daughter, Mrs. Dickerson, said she thought she had never seen her look so beautiful as upon her wedding-day. Mrs. Wilgus assured me that, so far from adding to or embellishing the romantic reality, she had not been able to do it justice. After thanking her most heartily for it, we obeyed the sonorous summons of the dinner-gong.

{centered} CHAPTER VII. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} CHARLES THE BRAVE.

TEN suns have sank to rest upon the bosom of the peaceful ocean, and the "sacred seventh" is again rising upon the sea, to find us in the Central Pacific, three days from Panama. The sixth day and the seventh are, however, all the same to the seamen. Fifteen times a day, week in and week out, the table, in the forcible language of my friend Mrs. Short, of Folsom, has to be "rid up." The Isthmus and the connecting vessel on the other side are now the fruitful topics of conversation.

"The Costy Ricy," says Mrs. Edinger, "is nothin' but a little, small tub of a thing, but it's bran new, that's a blessin'. Now, there's the Ocean Queen, they do say she's a rickety old consarn, and took fire six times comin' down. It's a good thing to have a new ship for sartain, but whar's they gwine to pack these eight hundred--some sez there's a thousand--passengers, on a boat with a compacity of only five hundred, is more 'n I kin tell. It's too heavy for my cyferin', shure." And Mrs. Edinger was but echoing the refrain from the first cabin. We had service again, and this time it was read by a gentleman of very interesting appearance, and to whose name I could come no nearer on the whole voyage, than Dr. Somebody, though I made diligent inquiry.

In the afternoon, the fire-drill, which I neglected to mention last Sabbath, was repeated. When the first drill took place, most of the passengers were told that there would be a false alarm of fire. Mrs. Edinger and Mrs. Cohen were, however, so busily engaged in conversation, that the word passed by them unheeded. So when the alarm was given, Mrs. Edinger screamed--"I knowed it! I knowed it! I told Edinger I'd go to the bottom."

Michael Cohen, however, quieted her fears in this wise: "It be's not de rale fire, Mish Edinshur; it be's norshin but de zreel mit de firemans. Lukee, dar's one mit de uniforms on to him now." Mrs. Edinger's chair groaned and crashed as she sank into it, however, despite Michael's eloquence.

Three hundred and thirty-three children, and I have made mention of none but Brooks, though every one of the mothers of the alliterative three hundred and thirty-three thought their young crows, beyond a doubt as white as mine. Boy-fights were as common on deck, and witnessed with almost as much interest as bull-fights in Spain, or dog-fights in the streets of a village. There was one peculiar-looking boy, apparently about twelve, upon whom half-a-dozen usually pounced, not all at once, but one at a time, the remaining five standing by, aiding, abetting, and betting on the result. Peculiar, as I shall call him, (as good a name as some of the model Plymouth Rock people gave their children), demanded upon one occasion a truce; and, with looks of defiance, he started to the second-cabin, in quest of his arms. His antagonist, in a greasy suit of faded brown, with no collar on his neck, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, followed, peering cautiously after him. I, who had been witnessing the combat, felt no little curiosity to know the character of arms with which the boy would return. Nor could I restrain my risibles, which lie too near the surface, when I saw him coming with his arms on his feet, booted but not spurred, prepared, in fact, to kick.

It is needless to add that for some time he paced the deck in conscious invincibility, holding the doughty six at bay. Among the English passengers I observed an old gentleman with a son. They were both persons of very interesting appearance; and although they dressed in much coarser fabrics than the Americans would wear, their clothing was artistically made, and they bore about them a look of refinement and distinction very pleasing to me. Since I first beheld the young man, I had, to say truth, been quite in love with him. They seemed as devoted a pair as Brooks and his mother, whom they appeared to observe with some curiosity. At length, one day, the elder called Brooks to him, saying, "They tell me that young lady with you is your mother. I took her to be your sister. You are sure to be a good man, Brooks, because you are such a devoted, obedient son." The Jewish fiddler also amused Brooks by asking him if he was promenading with his sister. Really Brooks is a source of very great pleasure to his mother, who said, "Brooks, dear, you didn't say anything about your elder brother at home, did you? That's right, Brooks--and you might mention that your mother married very young."

"Elder brother!" said Mr. McMurtry; "has he an elder brother? I thought he was your sole treasure. But I must say I admire your training. Sotto voce next time. But I'll not tell, eh."

To egotistical people, egotism in others is especially offensive. Therefore, I hope my readers, if any I have, do not belong to this rare class. Sorry am I, indeed, I had not called myself Davidella Copperfield, or Mrs. Perdennis, or even Jemima, in the outset. But, reader dear, if ego is a dose for you, do try and hold your mental nose, and bear with me while I tell you how the Colonel, he of the watch and chain, took me a little apart, and in a mysterious manner presented his photograph. Alas! that I should have lost it on the Isthmus. I--who had reasons of my own for prizing it--reasons beyond the polished beauty of the nose and pate. "Now remember," said he, upon this occasion, "I take all your banboxes and contraptions across the Isthmus." I could but feel grateful for this proof of his kindness, especially as I had been dodging him on account of his boisterous ways for some time. "No, you don't assist her, Colonel, in getting her extra parcels across the Isthmus," cried Mrs. Wilgus. Don't you know you promised Mrs. Green and myself that service the other day?" The Colonel looked as though he had been caught in a steel trap. And Mrs. Wilgus, to secure him, avowed that she had heard half a dozen Frenchmen offering their attentions to me, in that line.

"Hallo, there! what's that?" exclaimed the Colonel, and sure enough, every one is looking toward one point. The ship has run into a school of porpoises, and each one trying to see if he cannot leap higher than all the others. Evidently they are of the opinion that they are making a leap for life. I could but think, as I stood and looked at them, that they might possibly trace their genealogy back to the swine which ran violently down a steep place into the sea; fins versus feet, being the only points of distinction, apparently. Mrs. McMurtry is out to see the sight, and how charming she looks in her black alpaca skirt with a narrow fluting, her exquisitely fitting Swiss waist trimmed with that rare French embroidery which ladies value so highly, and with a little rosette of scarlet velvet and black lace at her throat. She has been sea-sick almost constantly, and even now retires immediately, leaving Mr. McMurtry in conversation with Mrs. Reese and myself.

"Mr. McMurtry," said I, "you have never given me a history of your courtship and marriage. I am sure you must have had a number of rivals and a spicy time." He had very bright black eyes and a pleasant face, which looked quite radiant, as he asked me if I held all my friends in duty bound to make such recital. "Assuredly I do," I replied.

"Then make her first promise to give you her late experience in San Francisco," cries Mrs. Reese, with a knowing air.

"I'll consent to this bargain, Mr. McMurtry," I rejoined, "if you will tell me the whole story without extenuation or exaggeration. I'll relate a story of the war, in which I played heroine, and with which I expect to regale my grand-children one of these days."

"Really," began Mr. McMurtry, "there's not much to tell after all. No duels, nor anything of that sort. I had, it is true, some rivals, as you say; but inasmuch as I bore off the prize, I kept no especial account of them. I was born in Philadelphia; sailed round the Horn to California at an early day. Being becalmed in the South Pacific, we had a nine months' voyage, and as our rations grew smaller by degrees and fearfully less, and rats got into the water, you may imagine it was not a pleasure-trip, by any means. As a matter of course, I went to California to seek my fortune, which met me half way. I soon sent for my father and sisters to join me. My sisters spent my money freely, I assure you. We had a very pleasant house, all nicely furnished, and everything comfortable about us. So I concluded to go back to Philadelphia, by steamer, and have some pleasure with my old friends. Well, I left my sisters as pleasantly situated as money could make them, and giving them four hundred dollars a month to keep house upon, I set sail. In the midst of my pleasures in my native city, I received a letter from my sister, saying four hundred dollars a month was insufficient. Well, the letter was not pleasant to contemplate, and so, while reading it, I made a rash resolve, and that was to get married and enjoy my money myself. At that time I had a slight acquaintance with Mrs. McMurtry, who was the only sister and idol of three brothers, all in business in the Quaker City. We were married, and sailed for San Francisco, after traveling over the greater part of the United States. We expect to spend this summer at home, and next fall to go to Europe. If we can be contented in any other atmosphere, we will not return to California. A very unromantic tale," said Mr. McMurtry, laughing and leaving us. Mrs. McMurtry had crept out again.

"What a treasure," said she, "that boy of yours is! How you must love him."

"Every body on the ship is talking of Brooks," put in Mrs. Reese.

"I am quite used to flatteries on Brooks' account," I replied, "and I imagine I bear them gracefully. Have you no children, Mrs. McMurtry?"

"I had a darling babe that died, and I came near following it to the grave," was the answer. "Mr. Mc. nursed me night and day--in fact, for six weeks he did not take off his clothes, but sat and watched every changing pulsation."

Mr. Mc. now returned with a waiter and champagne, oranges, prunes, bananas, and other delicacies. "You've got to tell your story now," he said.

"I was just thinking that you were certainly one couple in whose closet there could be no skeleton," I rejoined.

"And I trust there never will be," he answered. "It was never intended that this earth should be Paradise; but really it can be made a very pleasant place after all, I think. But let's have the romance in which you played heroine."

"Oh, I was not the soprano; I only played second air,"

"Very well; begin with it if you please."

"I think it was in the fall of '60, that I was riding in the family carriage of my aunt, Mrs. Governor Arny, through the Charitan bottom, as the rich, low lands between that river and the Missouri are called. One of the party, an invalid and an old lady, stopped to light her pipe and rest. As the carriage drew up before a new log-house, I beheld in the door a young girl, of blushing, budding, almost blooming sixteen; she looked as wild and quite as artless as a fawn, as she stood in the door-way, combing a perfect mantle of rich chestnut brown hair. Her dress was quite picturesque in its rudeness and simplicity, and her whole appearance reminded one of those flowers which are 'born to blush unseen, to die unknown, and waste their sweetness on the desert air.' Is that the way it goes? I never was good at recital. There were six or eight children, of various ages, in the room, and they had a step-mother nearly as young and beautiful as our heroine. 'You had a stout heart,' said my aunt to the mistress of the house, 'to undertake such a charge as this.' I was struck with the philosophy of the answer, which implied that she considered life a round of duties, and they might as well take that form as another. We passed on our way and sometimes reverted in our conversation to the cottage and its inmates.

"Next spring, the bombardment of Sumter sent a shiver over us, as though lightning had struck the nation. Our uncle of Glenarny, was appointed Commander-in-chief of our State forces, with headquarters in the capital. Madam Arny came to see her husband; she did not remain long, however, as word came by electricity that an attack might be expected hourly, so the General said to me, 'Archie, go with your aunt, and be a comfort to her--this will be no child's play. Since I read the Governor's answer to the President's call for Missouri's quota of the seventy-five thousand troops, I have not slept. Where is the man's reflection? We are totally defenceless. And--they are both high officers--dignity beseemeth such. My men now, however, cannot be restrained. But yesterday when I made a treaty with the venerable Harney, they tied the black silk neckcloths upon their bayonets, and went marching through the streets in sullen disapprobation. Go with her, Archie, and be a comfort to her, for heaven alone knows when I shall again behold her.' And with a kiss almost solemn in its dignity, he handed me into the carriage; and I am not sure but he brushed a tear away--in fact, I know he did, though he is a man of iron nerve, and emotions with him play not upon the surface.

"The summer passed, and the historic newspaper was our only company. At length, Madam Arny received advices from her husband, bidding her go Southward at once. I, who had a sweet sister--my youngest, my Beatrice, my inspiration, sick unto the light and glorious door of heaven, from which she has since returned in the form of a dove to bless me--could not go with her in the haste the times demanded; so I remained with my youngest sister, save this dying one--the betrothed of Ivanhoe, of whom I will sometime tell you, and we took the homestead in charge. Up to this time the neighbors had sworn by Arny, and though they loved him, still they shook their heads regretfully, and clung to the shattered masts of the old ship. Now it so chanced that one, a woman, had a son in league with men who were coming to burn Glenarny to the ground. He warned us in secret. My sister, myself, and a young cousin were the sole remaining inhabitants of the mansion, except a maid, Brooks and his brother. We buried the silver and gold, and hampers of old wine, sending the furniture away to safer places. Now, there was an old man, almost but not quite blind, whom we had hired to do duty in the tobacco fields, which were superb in their green and rosy beauty. Said he to me, one day, 'You have a Virginian name, madam; may I ask if you belong to the family who dwelt at Maple Dell?' 'The same,' I answered. 'I knew you had blood in you the moment I seed you,' he rejoined, 'and I'll fight for you till I die.' That night we prepared for them; they came not. But next day, Richmond, Brooks' brother, who has the large black eyes, and the talents of his father, came into the house, creeping stealthily up-stairs, and with a wisdom and retinence rare for so young a child, he crept out upon the roof. After satisfying himself he came down. 'Mamma,' said he, 'they are coming, thirty or forty of them,' and his eyes were almost as large and lustrous as the fixed stars. Slightly excited, I sprang up the steps; but they were now going from us--the thirty horsemen, with their glittering spears, their brilliant uniforms, and I could hear the clattering hoofs of their steeds. 'I have no fears that they will harm us, children,' said I; 'stay here, until I go beyond the tobacco factory and take observations. No sooner had I reached the corner of the factory, than I saw a horseman in blue, bending over the side of his mettled charger, and swearing, O heavens! I never heard such an oath before nor since--an idle oath is nothing, nothing, sinful as it is, compared to that. Said he, with the terrible name of Deity upon his lips, 'Stand, or I'll put this bullet through you.' And as I looked, I saw the waving corn bending slightly as though moved by a man's retreating figure, and I prayed that he might save himself by flight, for I knew that he was unarmed. Hark! a shot--another--and another--'Three souls had gone to the judgment tribunal,' says one whom I met.

"That night, in a cart by the way-side, the ghastly faces of two dead men were upturned in the sad moonlight, and a mother and her babies were watching for a husband and father, their all--who came not, for he was sleeping his last sleep beneath the sycamore tree, and the pale moonbeams, not his fond wife, were kissing his cheek. The other, who lay in the cart stiff and stark, with the icy breath of death upon him, was the sole stay and prop of an aged mother. While stretched upon a couch in the house of a friend, lay what was but yesterday the noblest, finest-looking young sovereign of all the people who dwelt in the rich Charitan bottom.

"He had been shot in the shoulder, and seeing that he did not die, he had been kicked, and told with an awful oath that it was hard for him to give up the ghost--but still he lived, if such a struggle with the grim monster could be called life.

"In the morning he had said: 'What is it all about? This fight, is it for slavery? these brown hands have toiled for all the bread I ever ate.'

"'It matters not,' said a neighbor, 'the vandals are coming this night to burn your neighbor's house, the good Arny, he who sat in the Governors's seat, who yet was the kindest friend and the most genial company in all the land, he and his good lady; so ask not what it's all about, but shoulder your musket like the Southron you are, and come to the Ferry at dawn.'

"If this be so, then by my troth, it will be over my dead body,' cried Charles Robinet, and up he sprang. Alas! his comrades were lying in the moonlight, and he was moaning upon a couch, lying with his manly beauty gone forever; his right arm amputated at the shoulder, taken from its socket as it were, and the arteries tied within two inches of his heart. 'It were a miracle if he recover,' they said.

"Meanwhile my sister, my two babes, our maid, (my young cousin, the gallant Captain Heber, our sole protector, had yielded to our entreaties and was in the green woods rallying his men), sat waiting to receive them, the thirty gaily caparisoned horsemen, and thus we reasoned: 'If we go they will assuredly burn the old homestead with the honey suckles and the roses round it, which our uncle and aunt so loved--no, they are not men if they resist a woman's tears, a woman's soft pleading!'

"Anon, I looked at Rowena in her youth and beauty. I thought of Ivanhoe, and I said, 'you go, I will stay with my children--they will not harm a mother and her helpless babes.' But she proved herself in this hour of trial worthy of the knight who loved her; for she drew up her proud, graceful figure, and she said: 'What I leave you? No, we go or stay together, but if we go they burn the place.' I then thought of a pony, a milk-white pet, which stood in the stable; so I said, 'Richmond, they will impress the pony--get you on him, my child, and may God protect you: go through the corn to Mr. Claiborne's, and tell him the news of the three dead men.' As I saw him fly off, the pony looked no larger than a good sized cat with a kitten upon its back. But Richmond flew on: at length the pony snuffed the air and shied--a man rose from the corn: 'Is that you, bub?' cried the voice, and my boy recognized the old man, he who had sworn by his mother's blood to protect her with his right arm, as long as he could wield it.

"As we sat in the veranda, awaiting the next scene in the fearful tradegy, we heard the thirty horses with their clattering hoofs, coming. Our hearts stood still: I caught my sister Rowena by the waist. 'Shall we go, or stay?' Ere she answered I turned, and catching sight of him who swore the oath to the man in the corn, I felt my courage come, and we sat there determined to receive them in person. And the thirty sat upon their prancing steeds with their bayonets glistening in the sunlight; and in their bright new blue uniforms, they sat looking at us. Involuntarily I arose to receive them advancing to the edge of the veranda, so did Rowena; but they consulted. Meantime, a picket came in; they turned their backs upon us and rode off, saying, as one heard them: 'It was not their business to make war upon women and children.' The vidette had, however, brought word that a thousand men were in the bushes near by, swearing 'that if a rail or shingle on Arny's plantation was displaced, the house of every Federal in the county would pay the debt.' Nor did they trouble us more. When it was over, we went to see poor Charles Robinet--he was dying, so they said, and they sent for the maiden to whom he was betrothed. As I sat by his bedside trying to read the volume of consolation to him, and chiding myself for my ignorance of those phrases I had heard the simplest people so beautifully repeat around sick couches, I looked up from the sacred Book, and beheld my rustic beauty who stood in the doorway combing her tresses, last September.

"She was wondrous beautiful now, and she had been learning in a new school since I saw her, for she was robed in black silk with a flounce upon it. And those who yesterday looked at them admiringly, saying, 'In all the country where will you find a pair so comely?' now wondered if she would be faithful; beautiful women, alas! are so seldom so. While she illumined the room with her presence, he grew better; when she left his pulse sank. And his undulating life was bright or sad as she frowned or smiled. At length, despite the oracular physician's prophecy, he was beyond danger; and alas! alas! that I should be compelled to say the coquette stood beside the altar with another. But Charles Robinet was not alone brave upon the battlefield, he was morally brave; he accepted his invitation to the wedding, though none knew what it cost him. The ways of Providence are not as our ways. In time a gentle girl, whom his mother had reared, and who loved him with a love of which the vain beauty could have no conception, stood beside him a happy, blushing bride. It may be that his feelings for her were not so fresh and joyous as in the days when he loved his first love; but he knew that his happiness was founded upon a surer basis, and he loved her truly."

When I had concluded the narrative, Mrs. McMurtry said--

"You are superstitious."

"Why do you think so?"

"You spoke of Beatrice coming back to bless you."

"So I did; I will tell you of that another time."

{centered} CHAPTER VIII. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} WHERE THE CONTINENTS MEET. {FIRST LINE RIGHT JUSTIFIED, THE REST, CENTERED, BUT LEFT JUSTIFIED.} "Love Hath ever thought that pearl the best He finds beneath the stormiest water."--MOORE.

READER, I love to fancy that you are near me, and that you regard me as a loving friend and not an authoress, and to hope it is not necessary to hold over your head the probability of the ship's being wrecked off Bermudas, and of how we all got safely into the life-boats--frail barks for the stormy sea--all except Reginald Mathew and his Pearl, who was dressed in Swiss muslin, and who was last seen clinging to a plank, refusing to be placed in the life-boat, in which there was not room for her lover; and how they were rescued from a watery grave by the Bermudese, who dressed the Pearl in a new Swiss, and who made the pair they had recovered from the sea, the founders of a new dynasty. I say I trust it will not be necessary to hold out to you the promise of any such denouement, barring anachronisms, or be left alone in my glory. Ah, no, I have no such inducements to offer, for I scarce know, as I spin my thread, what colors it will take, or how the woof and warp may match.

We are now within seven degrees of the Equator, the track of the vessel lying to the south of the Isthmus. We have run into the porpoises again, and I am bidding Mrs. Reese and Mrs. McMurtry come see the sea-serpent nine thousand miles long, as they say the sailors say. Do you see one?"

"Sure enough," exclaims Mrs. McMurtry, impressed by my looks rather than by my words. "Yes, I do see one--two--three--four--five. Oh, it is useless trying to count them."

Everybody is looking out for them. Some cannot see them, look they never so hard. Already I have counted twenty. If they only had sense enough to take each other by the tail, what a sensation they might create when we get to New York!

"You see twenty and more, madame--and zey are nine tousand miles long, did you say?"

"No, monsieur. We have only the sailor's warrant for that. These are not nine miles, nor nine feet; they are but the third of nine. Yellow and black they are; and we seem as badly frightened as the porpoises. Nor do I regard these as children of the monsters who inhabit a sphere, watery though it be, too dense for the mermaids, and the dolphins, and the seals, which play upon the surface, being only driven above when in their battles they become frightened, knowing not what course they take."

"Then you believe in the sea-serpint, madame?"

"Certainly, monsieur. I am but a woman, and such are all credulity."

"You believes zey are nine tousand mile long, madame?"

"I cannot vouch for the exact number, monsieur, though I am inclined to think that nine thousand metaphorical miles are not too many. I will tell you why I am so easy of belief in this case. This Pacific Coast is, as you know, especially subject to physical convulsions, called earthquakes. In Japan, China, and Chili, every where in fact, they feel such shocks much more sensibly than do those who dwell beside the stormy Atlantic. The ancient city of Panama, with ninety thousand inhabitants, sunk into the sea. And a gentleman, who knows a little of everything, tells me that by going out in a boat, the ruins, tops of houses, etc., can be seen yet. The Jesuits, they say, have a prophecy of another. I pray God it may not be San Francisco."

"And vat hash ze sea-sarpints to do vid it, madame?"

"Excuse me, monsieur, I had forgotten the text, only this--I imagined that upon such occasions, the sea-serpents, and gnomes, and goblins have festivals, fall out over some Helen of Troy, or upon some question of political economy, giving those upon the uncertain surface the benefit of an upheaval. Probably they consider they have a right to shake their own roof, which is our floor. In proof of my theory, the captain of a little vessel, which plies between San Francisco and the Faraolene Isles, said at such a time when the city suffered from the shock, that he thought he had fallen upon sunken rocks, so did the tide run back upon him."

"So, madame, you tinks ze Atlantic is not long enough to hold ze sea-serpint nine tousand miles long, and zey meets ze gnomes, and ze gobelins, on ze Pacifique, and has ze race-course and ze barbecue, eh?"

"Precisely so, monsieur. Plausible, is it not?"

"Vat an imashination, madame!"

Now, oh, all ye land lubbers, ye who have spent your days upon the dry land, never venturing your precious anatomies upon the wet water, what know ye of the great day upon which I am about to descant! That you may have heard something of pay-day, I grant you, but what can you know of weigh day? The former is a foregone conclusion, to which you must resign yourself, or work your wits warily. But when the latter comes, borne on the cycles of time, hopes and fears alternate; and if patience and resignation be not your hand-maiden, woe betide you.

First comes the hope that your trunks, for which you have as yet no checks, may be found at all, in that mysterious live oak grotto (in which the explorer finds nothing so green as himself), into which they have been thrust with the trunks of eight hundred or a thousand individuals, all pell-mell, helter-skelter, topsy-turvy, heels-over-head. Then, if you have a masculine attache, he either gets a lamp, descending to this airless cavern, peering right and left for the alphabetics which represent you, until he comes out as wet with perspiration as though he had been all this time in the bottomless deep making love to the mermaids; or he does at once what, ten chances to one he must do in the end, i.e., pay the cabin-boy five dollars in gold coin for each trunk rescued from chaos.

Some suspect these individuals, always on the qui vive for douceurs, of hiding them; but I imagine that is unnecessary.

Then, when your trunks are found, you must see that they are properly checked, and for all over one hundred pounds (and what is that to a fashionable lady?) you must pay twenty cents per pound. Monstrous steep, in the language of Mrs. Edinger. While on the subject of perquisites and extras, I must mention, that for all the ice we get we must pay one dollar for seven tickets, one ticket entitling you to almost as much ice as you require at dinner. On the Pacific side, where we imagined the ice came from (the dominions of H. B. M. or the Czar's possessions), it sounded so superlatively grandissime and so far off, that no one murmured, even in thought. But when we found that they kept up the custom on the Atlantic, upon which we had insignificant ice--hot ice--ice frozen in Maine, or some such familiar locality, it appeared slightly extortionary.

Well, we have passed Tehauntepec without a storm; we have seen the perpetually smoking volcanoes on the coast of Central America; regaled our mortal eyes with a sight of the beautiful ball of tropical vegetation, stationed in the sea, and known as Captain Kidd's Island, which, they tell us, has been literally plowed by searchers for the hidden treasure of the great pirate. We are nearing Panama, and weigh-day is upon us.

Alas for you who know nothing of "life on the ocean wave," except what you may have tasted in an occasional draught from the Pierian spring, a more refreshing one, I trust, than the goblet I have in my poor womanly way held out to you. Alas! I say, that I can present to you no clearer simile by which you can form an idea of weigh-day, than the one offered above.

"Give me your tickets," says Henry: "I will go down and have your baggage weighed, and bring you your checks." No sooner had he reached amidships, however, than he returned, saying, with a smile upon his wan and sea-sick face, "Probably you had better go yourself; they will think the baggage mine, and with these seamen I scarcely think a woman will weigh so heavily." I took the tickets, pushing off with Brooks. On the way down I met Mrs. Edinger, and heard her say to Mrs. Cohen, "That's what allers comes of givin' in to the men folks. He dogged an' dogged me 'bout havin' too much plunder an' stuff, till here I am at Panama, and I hain't not even got my rightful 'lowance. An' thars that castor, I am so sorry I hadn't a nipped it unbeknowns to Edinger.'

"Mr. Purser," said I, presenting my tickets, as the weigher called out my number, "I scarcely think I have more baggage than I am entitled to; I have a ticket and a half ticket."

The gentlemanly official took the tickets, glanced at them and then at me, and fixing his eyes on Mrs. Kittle, he asked her how she and Mrs. Doubleday settled that little matter of the chair. Mrs. Kittle fairly boiled over in this wise: "Pusser, I got my satyfaction outen that chur for sartain; I flung it overboard."

Mr. Purser then handed me my checks, and I ascended to the first cabin, heartily content with my first and only view of the second. The baggage is all weighed, and to-morrow morning at three o'clock we land at Panama.

"Madame, shall we not ave von more leetle game at cards vile we are on ze Pacifique," says Monsieur Langlais.

Now, if I have conveyed the idea to any mind that Monsieur is a little, blackish, Jewish-appearing person, with large feet, as I fear I may have done, I am guilty of the grossest injustice, for I have rarely seen a finer-looking or more gentlemanly man. He was large and well-formed, and you would have taken him for an American, unless you chanced to hear him speak in any assembly. And his language, though very imperfect, was more than redeemed by his elegant simplicity of manner.

After our little game at cards, Monsieur Langlais and Mr. McMurtry furnish one of those inimitable treats for which they have made themselves so famous; and their fine faces indicate how much happiness may be received in bestowing. Patrick tells me we have cast anchor in the Bay of Panama. The lights are brightly burning on the ship. We are up and dressed. Aurora, in her supernal robes, is rising from the sea. Circular masses of luxuriant vegetation seem to be floating over the waters. Upon one near by there is a castle all verandas, over which a flag is flying. And so there are the everlasting mountains, lifting their diadems above the ocean. On one side we behold the coast of Grenada. You seem to realize the rotundity of the earth, and to feel that you are standing on the highest point. Your conscious exhilaration of spirit is heightened by the extacy of the feathered orchestra, brilliant in the mingled liveries of earth and heaven.

To the south-west, the view is unobstructed, and the mind wanders over leagues and leagues of the blue sea, which is kissing his blushing bride, with the silvery vail, the ever-smiling sky, to the thousand daughters of the deep, and sisters of earth, the fairy isles, with aromatic breath which guard as maidens a queen, the lone continent, the empress of the South Seas, the affluent Australia. Involuntarily you hope you may not be nearer this rich realm, wrapped in its mantle of mystery, where the women are half mermaid, the birds part human, and the trees sweep the clouds, than you may be again. You gaze entranced, exclaiming: Water, water! type of purity, symbol of regeneration, where art thou so majestically, so bewilderingly regal, as in thy native home, the boundless Pacific? Then you turn your eyes to the shore, where the Continents kiss, and Aurora! Aurora! all glorious in her beauty, comes rolling over the verdant hills in a chariot of state, heralded by her rosy daughters, in fluttering scarfs and mantles of Tyrian purple, azure, vermillion, and gold. O Titian! O Rembrandt! When you painted her thus, had you beheld her in the Bay of Panama? Or was it some other haven blest of beauty where kindred earth, and sky, and waters meet?

"Have you written that note to Miss Julia?" says the officer, wounded of the arrows of Cupid, shivering my reveries.

"Sure enough, sure enough, I did promise, oh! how remiss I have been--forgive me for my base ingratitude, you have all been so kind to me on the Sacamento. Pardon me, and I will. Oh! you know not what sweet mention I will make of you in my private letters."

Cupid has, however, as I know, a queer way of mingling matters, the most trivial and the most momentous; so I could but reproach myself for the disappointment which would peep out upon the fine countenance of my friend.

"Mr. Worthington," said I, for such was the name of him who wore the silken fetters so gracefully, "here I am at the last moment, like an old maid who has been a belle, with nobody to help me across the Isthmus; and yet I assure you, I have been struck with the gallantry of gentlemanly-looking strangers, to say nothing of numbers of friends who have come to me, saying, 'Madam, I see you have no one but your little boy with you, and it will give me pleasure to carry your band-boxes and uncheckable parcels over the bridge between the ships;' and, Mr. Worthington, don't you think, here I am, after declining offer after offer, left to bear my burdens single-handed and alone! True, I am not much of a band-box woman, always contriving to pack my love of a bonnet in my trunk; but then I own, to use a common expression, that I am great on little bags and portfolios, and such things; and then there's a parcel almost as inconvenient as a certain Pickwickian brown paper parcel we wot of, which is too ungraceful for me and too heavy for Brooks, and Henry has been so sea-sick he looks like a spectre; moreover, his wife and Lilian are quite a handful for him, and so it is. What am I to do with that package?"

"That's easy enough, give a native two bits--no more--and mind you do not take your eyes off him, or he will steal it; these Jamaica negroes are the grandest rogues in creation, to say nothing of the natives, who excel them, if you can decipher the paradox; and you will have no trouble. Mind you let him know you are watching him."

"Farewell, happiness attend you; and may Hymen bless you and the fair Julia," I replied, as he handed me down a stairway from the leviathan Sacramento to the sprat of a steamer, which was to convey us to the shore.

We are jammed in like the cattle in a cattle-car, and some one is tugging at my dress. I look around, and behold Mrs. Edinger, who is pointing to a spot upon which I can possibly unfold my steamer-chair, which is upon my arm. My predicament is somewhat awkward, with Brooks, and the chair, and the portfolio, and the parcels; and I look around, mentally returning my thanks, that neither my elegant friends on the Sacramento nor my rejected offers are in sight. Had I known how little prospect there was of my being recognized in that "melange," I would have been more comfortable. I was even separated from sister and Henry by reason of my tête-a-téte with Mr. Worthington. The little boat touches the shore. You look about you and barely have time to behold the City of Panama, of twelve thousand inhabitants, with its white houses half hidden among the cocoa and palm trees, and the vines that frisk, and caper, and curl, and revel in all the freedom of tropical luxuriance, before you are hurried on to the cars. The native has my parcels--not a friend, thank fortune, has seen me--I am in the cars. How did I ever get through that chaotic assembly of Jamaica negroes, with fruits, and wines, and lemonade, and pearls, and birds--oh, most beautiful birds--and natives with monkeys, and all manner of queer things, which they are begging you to buy--in a medley of musical Spanish and fragmentary English, calling you endearing names! "Will you buy a monkey, my dear?" cries one to me.

Brooks, who is terribly discomfited by my mismanagement, reminds me of the offers he has heard me waive or decline, saying, with a little-manish sort of sneer, "No wonder he takes you for a show-woman! Just buy the monkey, and you'll need nothing more. You can stretch a little tent on deck, and I'll be door-keeper." And thereupon the merry juvenile gave evidence of the fertility of his resources by snatching a comb from my traveling-bag, and improvising, by the aid of a piece of paper, an harmonican, upon which he performed, with infinite glee, the enlivening air of "Johnny Schmoker."

I look up; my vis-a-vis is a person whom I have frequently seen, but with whom I am unacquainted. He is a widower, with a little girl, whom he suffers to take all manner of liberties with my dress and appurtenances. She tears my fan to shreds (we are in the land of palms, however) and, worse than all, he leans on my dress and touches my shoulder. What am I to do?--evidently, it is pure artlessness; by his dialect, I know him for a down-easter, and, strange to say, the ladies in that cold clime, all I have ever seen, tolerate more familiarity than those of our sunny land. I do not wish to hurt his feelings--it is pure artlessness. I see the bright face of Monsieur Langlais and Miss Alvord; they make room for me over their way. I can afford to smile as I take leave of my chance acquaintance. Monsieur, as usual, is laden with good things, but Miss Alvord, who had Isthmus fever for three years after crossing to California, implores me not to touch a particle of fruit or a draught of water. Brooks has already eaten oranges, pine-apples and bananas, and I am alarmed about it; I caution him, and he promises to be a good boy; says he is looking forward to the post of door-keeper, and will try to keep well. Now the iron-horse is cantering over the bridge, the beautiful mountains wrapped in the mystic vail, with the purple and gold, and rosy, and azure, and silvery shimmer, the wild luxuriance of the vegetation, the rude huts, built of rushes, and the picturesque costumes of the natives, who look more like mulattoes than Indians, keep you on the qui vive. The men wear shirts and pants of linen, and the women skirts and chemises with two flounces of English embroidered muslin depending from the band. They look neat and cleanly; possibly they dress up steamer-day, for they are proverbially indolent. The cars have stopped--the first train has met with an accident;--we will, in all probability, be detained five hours in this scorching sun. The engineer saw a cow on the track, but trusted to the cow-catcher to frighten her off. An inch more, and we might have buried our comrades beside the Chagres.

"Come," says Monsieur, "let us go and see the natives in their huts." Miss Alvord is so much afraid of the sun, she hesitates; but seeing us start, she follows, despite the admonitions of prudence.

I had often heard of the refinement of delicacy characteristic of the lowest classes of these mongrel Spaniards:--for instance, I have been told that they cannot be induced to ask you a question, that you might have the most remote possible objection to answering; be your idiosyncracies whatsoever they may, they anticipate them. The house we entered was built of round logs, with natural windows between each layer. Monsieur conversed with the natives in Spanish, with the Fraulien Hiedenfeldt in German, as fluently as with Madame Soumarde in French; but in English he was as a bird with its wings clipped. However, he in his own artless way afforded us much amusement. "Madame, come," said he, "look at ze piccaniny." The mother looked up with conscious maternal pride, as I advanced to behold a little tiny creature lying on its face. Monsieur turned down the thin muslin covering which protected it from the flies, disclosing what appeared more like the anatomy of a skinned squirrel than a human being. He then looked up, saying, with irresistible simplicity, "How cunning it looks, madame." Monsieur and the mother conversed in Spanish; finally, I saw her glance toward Miss Alvord, saying, "Signorita?" Monsieur assented; then looking toward me, the word "Senora" was arrested, though I read what she had too much native delicacy to express--viz., that she divined the language of maternity upon my brow. "Have some lemonade, madame?" I could not resist, though Miss Alvord, through fear of the dreadful fever again, refused even a sup of water.

"Come, ladies, swing in ze hammock."

We both got in; it was a beautiful fabric of grasses, and, as he had nothing better to do, Monsieur swung us back and forth some time. What a pleasant thing it is, to be sure, to swing in a hammock, especially if you have a handsome Frenchman to amuse you meanwhile. There was a hen of the common domestic breed in the hut, and she began to cackle. Says Monsieur, "Madame, there is one egg--I know there is," and looking up the nest he found it. "See, madame, it is fresh." I took it from him, offering to return it.

"No, no; you keep it, madame; you know it is fresh."

"Oh, no, Monsieur, don't take the woman's egg."

"I pay her for it, madame; you know it is fresh; you keep it."

How ridiculous this simplicity would have looked in an American; and yet how gracefully it sat upon the interesting Frenchman! They tell us the day is very pleasant; to us it is scorching. The breath of the seas, however, will redeem even an equatorial climate; we have had delightful breezes all the way.

To our delight, no less than our astonishment, the cars are ready to depart sooner than we expected. We find some very pleasant-looking houses, dazzlingly white, and all verandas, surrounded by gorgeous flowers; and then comes the swampy, slimy, snaky, alligatory-looking Chagres country. All beautiful--beautiful as a painter's dream of Paradise, with its blue mountains and rich vegetation, are many of the changing scenes, however. The date palms are beautiful and curious, no larger at the base than a man's arm, and at the height of ten or twenty feet; when they branch out, they become quite as large as a lady's waist--not Mrs. Edinger's--nor yet a fashionable lady's, but a compromise between the two. The fruit is of a brilliant golden hue, and looks somewhat like an ear of corn, provided you imagine each grain a persimmon. Really, I never knew until this paragraph slipped off my pen, how faithful it was at description.

"How is it, Mr. Mathew, that Americans contrive to live in this climate? I suppose our country people inhabit these white houses with the verandas?"

"They take quinine all the time; by the way, did you take it as I told you? I commenced several days before we got here. You had better take it and give it to Brooks too, for you will find this Isthmus fever no trifle." Saying this, Mr. Mathew passed on to his Pearl, which he evidently regarded as a priceless jewel. We are on the other side, at Aspinwall, at last.

{centered} CHAPTER IX. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS.} IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA.

"Boatswain.--What care these waters for the name of king? To Cabin; silence! trouble us not.

"Gonzalo.--Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

"Boatswain.--None that I love more than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you've lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap."

{right justified}SHAKSPEARE.

WE have stopped in front of the hotel. The Costa Rica will be ready for our reception at twilight.

Telegraph brings intelligence that the America, the opposition steamer, has just come into port. She started four days before us--anchored in her accustomed harbor, Greytown, I believe, but finding the San Juan river too low for navigation, has come down to Panama. We must hasten off: these cars are to go back for the America's passengers. How we are to get to the hotel is the question.

We look about us. Other people are quite as heavily laden, and appear quite as ludicrous as we.

Finally we employ a native of Jamaica; something like, in the way of variation, if not improvement upon a certain Australian monkey we once saw at the Willows in San Francisco, and he agrees to take our parcels to the hotel. Arrived at this blessed haven of repose, we find Mrs. Callahan and the triplets, Mrs. Edinger, Mrs. Cohen--and--but a parliamentary roll-call would scarcely suffice in enumeration of the various parties scattered through the halls, parlors, and reception-rooms, and in front of the door. Some are emerging from the dining-room and abusing the fare.

Mrs. Callahan, with the triplets, has bought a monkey; verily I believe she has. No--she does not conclude the bargain for the monkey; but she buys more paroquets--no, not more paroquets, but some little birds, dressed in scraps of blue satin and black velvet; really they are so beautiful I cannot blame her, though she is going home for purposes of economy, expecting to be separated from her reverend husband two years. Now a Jamaica darkey comes along with a glass globe, with a ship inside of it--the globe being full of water. It is a pretty toy, and one I would like to have if I were in a stationary state of existence. Surely that woman with the triplets--all three have eruptions upon their faces which are never straight--is not going to purchase that frail, tottering toy, which looks as though a glance of the eye would shiver it to atoms. Yes, she does, and pays three dollars for it. Oh, the tableaux and the donation parties it took to get her started home for purposes of economy!

"Now, boys," exclaims the landlord, pacing up and down the hall, waving a stick, "if anything is stolen here, you suffer for it. I am on the watch this evening." The comical-looking, intensified Africans from Jamaica grin, showing the whites of their eyes and their ivories to advantage, as they chuckle over the admonition, which they evidently regard as a most excellent joke, the big stick in his hand to the contrary notwithstanding.

Some of the ladies, among which are Mrs. Reese and Mrs. McMurtry, have gone off to buy linens and lawns and laces, which they say can be bought marvelously cheap--free of duty.

"Come, my lub, and buy some oranges," cries a coal-black darkey to one of the gentlemen we saw on the Sacramento. He is taken aback. "My sweet-heart, do buy some oranges," she implores, grinning in Ethiopian innocence of the contrawise effect of her endearing terms. He walks away; but seeing us gather round her, he comes back. She my dears, and my loves, and sweet-hearts us still more enthusiastically, for we are buying her fruit; and so does he this time.

Reader, if you are bent on making money, go to Aspinwall and keep a saloon, or run a line of steamers in opposition to the Vanderbilts--particulars anon.

I must tell you now how the American ladies who live on the Isthmus dress. Here are two; we'll take them for fashion plates. They are walking through the halls at the hotel, hanging on to the arms of gentlemen. They are not brides, and yet they wear white kid slippers, blue dresses with white waists, white barege mantles, and white hats with white veils. The sight is refreshing; but such is the custom. In these tropical latitudes even the gentlemen have white muslin twined around their hats. I am frantically thirsty. I can heed Miss Alvord's warning no longer. I catch sight of an old colored woman making through the hall with a bucket of water. I seize the glass and drink. Merciful heavens! it must have come out of the Chagres! "No, it's only be'n sottin' up two or three days," says the innocent, who let me drink it unheeded. I almost felt the fever on me.

Twilight comes at last, and how beautiful it is beneath the feathery tropical trees which wave over our heads, as we wend our way to the Costa Rica.

Now, you see what one gets for using strong terms. I felt it once before, when I, for the first time, ascended the Rocky Mountains, and in casting about me for terms in which to express my admiration, found that the whole category of adjectives had been so debased, that none suitable for my purpose was left. So I had to gaze in mute adoration. This time, however, I am the guilty party myself, for I it was who called the mass of humanity assembled upon the Sacramento the day we weighed anchor in the bay of San Francisco, chaotic.

Now, if that was not hyperbole, what am I to say of the state of things on the Costa Rica? Nothing is left for me but to call it chaos turned inside out and upside down. Our vessel, as Mrs. Edinger told us truly, has a "compacity" of only five hundred, and we take on at Aspinwall one hundred way passengers--naval officers, Chilians, Peruvians, etc. Had the Grecian Sphinx sat at the gate, asking each one how he was to eat, sleep, and have his being, for seven days upon the ocean in this craft, no larger, relatively, than a certain bowl in which two jolly men are said to have gone to sea, I fear our heads would have come off, every one of them. Our party have a state-room all to ourselves this time, and it looks promising. The Costa Rica is constructed for the billowy Caribbean, and the boisterous Atlantic, and is not so elegant or convenient as those vessels intended for the soft sea, with the mighty, majestic, but gently swelling waves. The dining saloon is below, and our state-room, which would be comfortable were we bound in search of Sir John Franklin, is somewhat close and illy ventilated for the Caribbean, the Windward Passage and the south-east coast of the United States. Enigma first is solved: we have all passed the night, and awake to find ourselves tossed upon blue mountains of water; but how gracefully our staunch little ship rides them!

"Just go forward, mamma, for the fun of it, and see how she mounts the waves."

"Sure enough, Brooks, she does look as if she must go under next time. What a little duck she is to be swimming in such a pond."

"Have you a state-room?"

"Yes; but---"

"Oh, don't put in any buts, if you have a place to hide your head; half the first cabin passengers lay on the guards or upon deck, looking at the stars--men, women, and children being strewn around promiscuously. There is Dr. Choan, from San Francisco, traveling with his invalid wife, and a family of children, who paid one thousand dollars for his state-room to New York, and you should see the place in which they have been stowed. Mrs. Choan's berth (the best of them) looks, for all the world, like a coffin; she has but room enough barely to get her head out, the rest of her body is boxed up. I paid two hundred dollars in gold for my berth, and last night I went to the steward, seeing I could get no room, and I said, 'Steward, give me a mattress.' 'Not a mattress left,' says he. I slipped a two-dollar-and-a-half gold piece in his hand, and he brought me one in a very short time; but if I get it again to-night, I have got to do it all over again. I might as well have taken second-cabin passage, and saved my money. The second-cabiners fare as well as we do--we all lay upon deck, any how. And the mischief of it is, here are these way-passengers, with first-class state-rooms--our passage paid in advance at San Francisco, too. It is a burning shame! I think I'll call on the ship-owners and give them a piece of my mind. The secret of it is, these Spaniards, and that Peruvian there, with the pretty wife and the white muslin on his hat, paid 'em two hundred dollars apiece for himself and wife, to New York, the swindlers; and these naval officers, they pretend to say, threatened to pour a broadside into the ship, if they were not accommodated. It's all bosh--swindlers every one of them."

These remarks, though made by Col. Fisher, might have been heard from any of the malcontents who were roomless. Mrs. Callahan has got into trouble. Nobody appears to know her, though every one knows of her. She seems to have no friends, nor does she care for any. She is evidently of the class who believe that her church, alias the priest, is salvation, and not a mere means to that end, provided you accept and improve the grace granted you. So she, in virtue of being "so husbanded," walks the deck as though she deemed herself the Ocean's Queen, in majestic, sullen silence. Silence, as I have observed, only broken when she raises her voice to some chance companion in defamation or disparagement of the human race. "The ladies," says she, "are very good about getting up tableaux for the church; but it seems to me they do it all more to show off themselves than to benefit the church." That she has her hands full with triplets, and the paroquets, and the glass globe full of water, in which a miniature of the Costa Rica rides at anchor, cannot be denied, so we should be charitable. This is scarcely to the point, however. Mrs. Dougherty, it seems, by some honest means, came into possession of the check for one of Mrs. Callahan's trunks; Mrs. Callahan demanded the check; Mrs. Dougherty says she will give it up when she gets to New York, but not before, as she would then have no proof of ever having had a trunk. But as soon as the baggage is overlooked, and if hers is not found, as soon as she shows that she has had ground upon which to prosecute an action for damages, she will then hand it over to Mrs. Callahan. Mrs. Callahan appeals to Mr. Purser. Mr. Purser is a high dignitary, I grant you, but no match for Mrs. Dougherty, with justice on her side. The contest waxes warm, the battle rages, but the besieged is invincible.

Finally, an old lady with grey curls and bright eyes, who evidently has been a beauty and remains a belle, consoles Mrs. Callahan by taking her under her protecting wing. Mrs. McLean, as we shall call her, has made the journey over the seas seven times, and thinks nothing of it. It is reported that one of her sons in San Francisco is the first lawyer of the city, and that he and his brother in New York, are the ships' company's lawyers.

Be that as it may, Mrs. McLean is treated with much respect, though they are no respecters of persons at sea, where everything must go like clock-work, even though Alonzo, king of Naples, and Ferdinand, son to the king of Naples, be aboard. Brooks even observes the attention shown this lady, and, with some display of acumen, attributes it to the position of her sons. So, creeping up to me and leaning over my shoulder, he says, "Mamma, when I get a man, you shall travel in as much style as Mrs. McLean."

We had heard all along that the fare, no trifle at sea when it tells upon the beauty so, was much better on the Pacific than the Atlantic side--the cattle being butchered on board on the former, and the meats being packed in ice for the voyage to Aspinwall and back on the latter. On board the Sacramento they also kept cows.

Our captain is a Teuton, somewhat distinguished for his nautical skill and administrative talent. And the cabin-boys, with the exception of the darkey, who performs on the gong fifteen times daily, belong to the same phlegmatic race.

I slept late the first morning, being aroused by the magnificently musical whirr-r-r-rah of this beautiful instrument, accompanied by the voice of a son of that race, which should be engrafted upon the Anglo-Saxon by reason of its claim to the title of the "natural human lyre."

Possibly Orpheus was black. Did you ever think of it, reader? If so, a pity it is he had not lived in our day. Then with his lyre, and by the aid of Cupid and Hymen, he might have rivaled Frederick the Great, the antitype, unfortunately, of Peter the Great, who is as yet the founder of no tropical St. Petersburg--the redoubtable Douglas, and ruled the clan without the assitance of a bureau. But I am depriving you of the music. So here goes it. "Whirrr-r-r-ri-re-rah, reh-rah. Breakfuss!!! fur de se-ac-con' cayrbn!" Semibreve rest. "Whirr-r-r-ri-re-reh-re-rah. Breakfuss!!! fur de se-ac-con' settin' ob de se-ac-con' cayrbn!" Minim rest. "Whirr-r-r-ri-re-rah. Breakfuss!!! fur de fuss cayrbn!" Crotchet rest. "Whirr-r-r-ri-ra-rah-rih. Breakfuss! fur de se-ac-con' settin' ob de fuss cayrbn!" Quaver rest. "Breakfuss!!! fur de chiellen!" Da capa, at lunch and dinner, except that the first cabin takes precedence at these meals, and the rest are reversed, our time coming first.

Of the three hundred and thirty-three--and three births now--I didn't learn what proportion were infants at nurse nor how many belonged in the steerage. That the little creatures fared rather poorly at table, I am afraid was true.

One day Brooks was so interested by the sights of society on deck, that he failed to get to table in time; consequently, his seat was occupied. He came to me with tears in his eyes, protesting that his hunger was unbearable. I went to the stewardess. Her high mightiness expected, on all such occasions, or upon every application, a douceur, which, failing to get, she was a lofty know-nothing. I then addressed myself to the first cabin-boy I met. "I knows nothing about," was the answer I received; he however muttered something about the steward being the proper person to settle such matters. "Oh," said I, with a slight affectation of innocence, "I supposed you were the steward!" The compliment so got the upper hand of his dignity that he made a place for Brooks and waited upon him quite condescendingly.

This reminds me that we have three sea-captains on board. One, they say, has been dismissed from this line because of ungallant conduct to a lady. Thus the story runs: After dinner, Mrs. Adams, we will call her, filled her hands with prunes, or oranges, or something pertaining to the desert, starting to her state-room. Says the then, captain, who had just finished his dinner and should have been in a better humor, "Cannot you manage to eat enough at the table, madam?" with other remarks equally beneath the dignity of his office.

"You will learn in future, and to your cost, captain, whose wife it is you have insulted," replied the lady. The captain is now in the position of the Moor of Venice.

Another of these gentlemen is going to take a steamer round the Horn. Inasmuch as I have constituted myself the sole chronicler of the affairs of Cupid on this voyage, I trust I shall not be suspected of exceeding my prerogatives, if I should give the public a hint of the desperate flirtation which was progressing between this marine official and a lady of Boston. The lady is very pretty, and the captain exceedingly good-looking and agreeable. So people are naturally wondering what they see in each other to fancy--and if either, or both, are married--nor do I know that the laws of literature compel me to inform against them.

The third commander belongs to a more romantic, picturesque-looking class of vessels than our steamers--i. e., to those which are propelled by the winds of heaven. Says this gentleman, in my hearing, to Mr. Marshall and some other persons who had made their fortunes mining, "I have a great fancy for mining; I think I will buy an interest."

Mr. Marshall replied emphatically thus: "Captain Knox, take my advice, and whatever you do, don't you never let anything induce you to put a dollar in a mine. Depend upon it, you'll never buy a mine for less than it's worth, and it takes a gold mine to open a silver mine. I have made something, it is true, but I have lost more. Taking the time, the anxiety and the vicissitudes, and all things into consideration, it does not pay!"

"But," says Captain Knox, "see how many there are on this one ship, who are retiring with fortunes."

"The greater portion by far have made their money by speculation; some by keeping eating-houses, and in various other ways. Langlais, and La Rue, and Kane, have made in mining; but the proportion of those who win to those who lose, would tax your credulity, I assure you."

{centered} CHAPTER X. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} TRUE STORIES OF TRUE LOVE. {LINES FROM A POEM} "What would you rather do 'an to go a fishin'?" (*right justified} NOT SHAKSPEARE. {CENTERED, LINE FROM POEM} "Love laughs at locksmiths!" {right justified} OLD PROVERB.

BEAUTIFUL little Minnie Marshall now came tottering toward her father, followed by her nurse. I said something sweet to Minnie--who woudln't? Mr. Marshall smiled upon the fairy, saying, "Minnie is a California girl, and such are always untutored;" then, raising his voice, so that Mrs. Marshall could hear, continued: "A California mother is never so well pleased as when she sees her child acting just as naughtily as possible. My wife is no exception; I am always talking to her about it, but I might as well sing psalms to a sea-gull as preach to any California woman of the importance of training up a child in the way it should go."

The lady thus apostrophized looked up at me with a knowing smile, which said, "Old songs lose their power from familiarity." There was a nameless something about Mrs. Marshall which rendered her exceedingly attractive, though I cannot define a specialty which distinguished her from a dozen. The ensemble was, however, unusually winning. In all my life, I have not seen six gentlemen handsomer than Mr. Marshall. As I sat looking at them, I could but think how I would like to hear the history of the "affaire du coeur" which resulted in their marriage. By a little chicanery, which happily I am bound to divulge, but without the necessity of resorting to questions, I heard from Mr. Marshall's lips the following story:

"Cupid," began the gentleman, "is a subtle sprite, obtruding himself upon the eyes: I know he crept into mine, and I fancied I detected him in those of a young lady of my acquaintance. She was, however, so cold and coy, and nonchalant, that I could not feel at all easy over the matter. I really think--in fact I know--she enjoyed my embarrassment, which amounted to torture. At length one day we went fishing in a crystal stream, which winds along the foot-hills of the Sieras, {poem, first line right justified}

"'Like a fairy thing Which the eye watches in its wandering.'

Well, there we sat angling for some time, but without success. Finally, I grew weary of it, and approaching Annie, I placed my hand on her rod, just below her own. Almost immediately we drew out of the water a beautiful silvery trout a foot in length. After securing it, I resumed my hook and line again. We angled in solemn silence unsuccessfully, until I placed my hand once more on Annie's rod, when we captured another shining victim. Again I resumed my line, but fortune refused to favor us. At length I said: 'We'll try it again, Annie;' and, to our delight and surprise, the third, a golden salmon, came glittering in the sunlight, to reward our joint effort. 'Well, Miss Annie,' said I, 'what do you think of that? Does it not look as though you and I were destined to pull together?' She gave me a bright smile, and that thin veil of affectation she had been wearing to conceal her feelings, fell off, in this unguarded moment. And so you see she is Mrs. Marshall. How was it about Ada Woodward, Annie? I can remember nobody's love affairs but my own, remarked the gentleman."

"Ada was one of my old school-mates in the States, as we say on the Pacific coast. She was rather a pretty girl, and as is quite unusual with such, made as pretty a picture. Ada and myself had a mutual friend in Mrs. Quinn Leonard, of a certain mining city, a place in which bachelors and Benedicts are apt to congregate."

"I was impressed with the numbers of the latter class I met in Austin and Virginia City, Nevada," I said. "We supposed when we were on the way out, that on this Pacific coast, blest of the angel of Peace, husbands staid at home and nursed their wives and babies, and were not running to and fro on the earth, as husbands at home had been compelled to do of late. But we did not find it so. Husbands congregated in the mines of gold, silver, quick-silver, copper, and wives were at home either working for a living, flirting, or pining. Please proceed with the story, Mrs. Marshall."

"Mrs. Leonard and I often longed for Ada's society. So one day when we were talking of her, and her interesting ways, 'Julia Leonard,' said I, 'do you not think Dr. Oglesby would suit Ada, admirably? Suppose we send him for her.' Not long after this, Mrs. Leonard met Dr. Oglesby in the street: she had an arch, mischievous way about her that was very taking. 'Dr. Oglesby,' said she, 'was that your marriage I saw in the San Francisco papers the other day?' 'No, Mrs. Leonard; you know very well it was not,' the doctor indignantly replied. 'Well, it is high time you were getting married; I am heartily tired of you myself, and if Mrs. Marshall and I desert you, who cantell what is to become of you?' she saucily rejoined. 'The truth is, Mrs. Leonard, I have never yet seen any lady whom I fancied,' answered the doctor, in a tone which betrayed that he was by no means so incorrigible as he seemed. 'There is a face that will please you,' remarked Mrs. Leonard, producing an ambrotype, encased in blue velvet. Dr. Oglesby looked at it some time, with evident interest. 'I do like it,' said he, slipping it complacently into his vest pocket. 'What is her name?' Then taking out a pencil and paper, he noted down her address in full--seeming very particular indeed, about the matter. Upon the same day he wrote to Ada, inclosing his carte de visite, and requesting, with her father's consent, permission to correspond with her. Mr. Woodward concluded that so reasonable a request from so prudent a gentleman need not be denied, and an engagement upon conditions ensued. Dr. Oglesby was extensively engaged in mining, as well as popular in the practice of his profession, so he could not leave at once. Accordingly it was decided that, during the ensuing year, she might expect him. Meanwhile the accidents of war deprived Mr. Woodward of nearly all his means, and Ada, without making any mention of it in her letters to her lover, accepted a situation as teacher in a neighboring village. Now, it so happened that a gentleman of Dr. Oglesby's acquaintance, sojourning temporarily in the mining city, received a letter from his wife, in which casual mention was made of the fact that Mr. Woodward's family had been so reduced by the fortunes of war, that Ada was compelled to wear out her life teaching young children. This person showed the letter to Dr. Oglesby, that he might enjoy some displays of wit, on the part of his wife, who was a very piquant writer; but never dreaming that the contents would otherwise interest the doctor in the least. Nor did Dr. Oglesby mention it, though he was greatly concerned about the news upon which he had stumbled. He wrote Ada immediately, to prepare for his reception in three months at most, possibly sooner. In three months they met, found their ideals of each other were not overdrawn, were married, and at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in San Francisco, en route for our Mining City--appeared as happy and as confident they were made for each other, as though their marriage had come about in the ordinary way."

"Quite romantic; but all true," added Mr. Marshall. "Dr. Oglesby says he is confident that matches are made in Heaven."

"Sometimes I am almost a fatalist," continued Mrs. Marshall, "especially when I look at such cases as that of Roland Grattan and Lilian De Laureal."

It was in the very same city of which we have been speaking, that we made Mr. Grattan's acquaintance, and I cannot wonder that a woman ever beloved by such a man, should find human nature's daily food all distasteful to her. "It was very sad," I replied. "When we parted last September in Austin their prospects were so bright and hopeful."

"It was not to be--not to be," slowly rejoined Mrs. Marshall. Mr. Marshall left us, and Mr. Caldwell, whose book I had some time ago returned, inquired how I liked the author. "A very pleasant magazine writer," I answered. "I can scarcely judge of him in that volume, as I have read some of the sketches before."

"You appear to be very well; you have not been at all sea-sick," he remarked.

"Not since the first day and night on board.'

"Is this your first sea voyage?"

"It is."

"Then you crossed the Plains. Did you stop any time in Salt-Lake City?"

"Seventeen days in the valley," I answered. We left a charming lady-friend there, a Mrs. Ellis."

"I knew her well by reputation," he rejoined; but I went on, somewhat hastily, to say that Mrs. Ellis pronounced the Saints very kind-hearted people, hospitable to strangers, provided they did not wound them on their tender point, polygamy. In a moment he gave me to understand that he was one of the anointed of the Prophet, and I remembered distinctly seeing four of his wives who were pointed out to me as the "better quarters" of one of the greatest Mormon dignitaries. Involuntarily I turned away. Possibly there was a lurking fear, of which I was scarcely conscious, that he might be looking up another, proselyting in fact. Mr. Lane and Monsieur Langlais now joined Mrs. Marshall and myself.

"Madame," said Monsieur, "you seem to 'ave ze hap pee facultie of make every von talk upon subject za please zem most."

"Indeed, Monsieur! I was unconscious of possessing so pleasant a gift. I love to hear people talk of themselves and their love affairs."

"Is zat ze simple secret of your success, madame?"

"Assuredly, Monsieur; have you no 'affaire d'amour' to relate?"

"Not of my own; but I 'ave heard von, vich I will tell you. 'Ave you observe, madame, von leetle couple? Ze ladee is very pretty, with blue eyes and red hairs; her skin is as clear and white as a lily, and her cheeks as roses red. The gentleman has black hairs and very heavy beard."

"Certainly, Monsieur, I have noticed them frequently."

"Vell, you know, madame, zere is a provob which says, 'Love laughs at locksmiths;' and zat leetle pair are living monuments of its trute. Her father vas a vealthy planter, and ze young man vas poor. Ze ole gentleman had ambitious views for his daughter, and he forbade ze lover ze entrée of his house. So, von day he surprise Miss Marif in ze act of packing up her vardrobe to elope vid her lover. Now, vat does ze old man do but make a jail of his meat-house. So he lock up his child in zar vid de bacon hams. But you know, madame, in zese smoke-housees zey leaves places for ventellationg, openings in ze valls. By some means, through ze servants probably, ze gentleman heard of ze dismal prison house assigned his lady love, and off he goes for ze priest. Ze preacher, madame, and a friend, waited until dark, and zen cautiously approaching ze back of ze Bastil, ze called Miss Marie by name, telling her to put her hand through ze opening in ze wall. She did so; and zen ze preacher ask her, 'Vill you take zis man, whom you hold by ze han', to be your lawful husband?' 'I vil,' she reply, and after the saremonie was concluded, zey all march boldly up to ze ole man, demanding ze key to ze prison-house. At first he stormed and raved furiously, but passionate peebles are sometime very zensible and very good-hearted at bottom, and in a few days ze old man sent for them, saying, 'For my daughter's happiness I opposed your marriage; probably I was wrong in choosing for her. And now, for her sake, I forgive you.' Madame, as near as I can, I 'ave repeat ze story in ze language of ze hero of it himself."

"I am indeed much indebted, Monsieur; it is unique and interesting. Now, Mr. Kane, it is your time to beguile the tedious hours on ship-board with a story."

"With pleasure," he replied, bowing gracefully, "I will contribute my modicum to your entertainment. A few years ago, a friend, named Frank Irving, and myself were traveling in the West on business. Do not understand me, madam, as locating the scene in California or any of the adjacent territories. They all belong to the Pacific--not the West--the Mississippi Valley is what one understands by the West. We had a fine pair of horses and a good buggy, and wherever night caught us, there we stayed. So one evening we stopped at a cabin with but a solitary room, in which the whole family, consisting of father, mother and two daughters, all slept, took their meals, and spent their days. The girls were rather pretty, but as untutored as the wild-flowers which grew along the highway. Frank and I, however, sat there some time amusing ourselves with their simplicity. Finally the old man arose with a yawn, saying, 'Come, boys, let us go to the stable and see about the nags. They looked game when they stopped, but it's well enough to see arter 'em now and then.'

We took the hint, and upon returning we saw that the old lady and the girls had retired. The old couple slept in the middle bed, while we were on one side and the girls on the other. The fire was burning in the hearth, shedding a bright light upon objects near it, and Frank, who was always full of mischief, concluded, after we had been in bed awhile, that he would raise up and see how the girls looked. No sooner had he done so, however, than the old lady brought the broom-stick down upon his head, with such a whack I thought his skull must have been fractured; and I lay there, shaking with suppressed laughter, until my sides were sore. Next day it rained, and we remained until afternoon. In the meantime, Miss Jedida Wolf's lover came courting her, and Frank vouches for the genuineness of the declaration, which was this:

"If you and your folks loves me and my folks, as me and my folks loves you and your folks, then thar never was no folks loved me and my folks as you and your folks loves me and my folks."

"Did you attend the Sacramento fair last fall?" inquired Mr. Kane, after being required to report this novel courtship several times, so that all the listeners could take it in.

"Yes, I was there," I replied.

"Do your remember a black-eyed lady among the equestrians, she who bore off the prize, I verily believe?"

"I recollect her perfectly," I answered. "She wore a Marie Louise blue habit, trimmed with steel buttons, a black velvet hat, with a large white plume."

"Do you remember how many buttons there were on the dress?" asked the gentleman in a quiet, but comic manner, glancing at Monsieur.

"I think I could tell you if you will give me time to make the calculation."

"Well, time on shipboard is not so very precious, suppose you try," said he.

"To a French merino there must be five breadths; to each breadth six strips of velvet, each terminating in a point, with a button right on the end of the point:--five times six are--thirty. For the skirt, it takes ten or a dozen to confine it in front, ten for each cap, and five for each cuff:--seventy-two, and two in the back seventy-four."

"The fair took place last September," he said, "and you have kept all that in your mind till May?"

"It cost me no effort; why should I not remember?" I replied.

"Your memory must be a perfect wardrobe," he rejoined, laughing.

"It is, I confess, for beautiful objects. With me 'a thing of beauty is a joy forever;' happily, however, I never retain unpleasing impressions of any kind long. Pray let us have the story. I much prefer to ring my mental wardrobe with beautiful stories of love, than loves of dresses, I assure you."

"You are such a close observer, I presume you remember the gentleman who attended this lady?"

"Did he wear brass buttons?" I thoughtlessly inquired.

"You seem to have buttons on the brain," said Mr. Kane, dryly. Monsieur laughed heartily.

"I confess I have," I retorted slyly; "but they are bachelor's buttons."

Now, Mr. Kane, who, though eligible, did not belong to this classification, shrugged his shoulders, affecting not to relish the implied compliment to Monsieur; so he contended that they were not bachelor's buttons, but golden buttons--buttons of wit and pearly buttons of wisdom.

"A truce to flatteries, gentlemen," I cried, "those buttons are disjoining the thread of our love story."

"You recollect the lady and the buttons, but seem to have no memory for the gentleman,--a singular sort of woman, I should say."

"I know very well that neither the gentleman nor the buttons made the slightest impression upon my mind. Since I think of the party, I believe I can describe him:--Light hair, blue eyes, long nose, medium size," I answered.

"Precisely; you have a mental photograph gallery as well as a wardrobe, I see."

"Please proceed, Mr. Kane, I am weary of waiting."

"Well to begin: This black-eyed damsel, who really made a splendid appearance in her equestrian costume, (did she not?) and Edgar Shaw, her attendant, had been for some time quite hopelessly in love with each other--hopelessly because Shaw was a mere clerk--and Miss Mary, though poor, was just the sort of woman of whom the world in general, and her friends in particular, expect a brilliant match. Matters went on in this way for some time, until one day poor Edgar found himself dying of a broken heart, suffering all the pangs of rejected love. At this time Shaw was in the employ of Mr. Asa Girard--a name of itself suggestive of the precious metals. As Mr. Girard was a bachelor, with nothing else to love, he set his whole heart upon his money; and as it became necessary at this period that he should visit the eastern cities on business of importance, he conceived the very ingenious plan of securing the fidelity of his clerk, to whom he was probably as much attached as any living being, by making him legal heir to all his possessions in case he died. And marvelous to relate, but nevertheless true, the old gentleman sure enough laid himself down quietly in his bed and died of a fever, in New York, just in the nick of time. All obstacles being removed, the wedding took place, as such festivities in high life usually pass off, for I witnessed the ceremony myself. I cannot now, however, remember what the bridegroom wore, though I think he sported a white vest; and if the bride had any buttons on her dress, it was all so white and cloud-like, I could not perceive them. There was, however, a veil of gossamer and a ring of gold, I know."

{centered} CHAPTER XI. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} WHITE ROSE BUDS.

DURING a summer which has but lately gone to join its sisters of the past, there lived in the city of San Francisco a young lady named Effie Scholten. She was greatly admired by an old gentleman, considered by her parents a very desirable match. Now, Effie was a dutiful daughter, and with all her might she tried to regard her venerable suitor in the light of a lover, but feeling as ever, refused to be fettered by will. The more she thought of him in that character the more distasteful he became to her. Finally, the conflict in her mind so impaired her health, that her mother insisted she should try a change of air and scene. Accordingly the bracing zephyrs from the Golden Gate were exchanged for their gentler sisters of the lovely valley of San Ramone. A poor place, indeed, to which to send a maiden, striving to reconcile herself to the immolation of all those roseate dreams of which one of the many poetic children of Albion's sea-girt, muse-enchanted isle has said, "Oh, that they could be concentrated in a dye for the curtains of my chamber window!"

Let those who think they have seen the roses bloom, and the willows weep, keep silence unless they have visited the beautiful valley of San Ramone. So thought Effie as she strayed beneath the waving willows--but Paradise should take some other name if "the only bliss which has survived the fall" dwells not there. The father of our heroine was a German, who had married a lady of Louisiana, of which State Effie was a native; and although she loved him dearly, as evidenced by the most daughterly conduct in this soul-trying ordeal, she had ever held an unconquerable, undefinable objection to uniting her destiny with any scion of his race. Unhappily for our venerable lover, his nativity was east, in one of the Hanseatic cities of Germany. Of all passions, love is said to be the most superstitious and the most engrossing. Even our grave Herr Reuss was found nursing presentiments. And as he escorted his fancy's queen to the boat, upon which she was to take passage for Martinely, he said, "Effie, I feel as if something would befall you, as though I should never see you again." She smiled at his fears, asking him if he believed she would die. "No, my thoughts of danger to you take not that shape. I imagine you will marry some one who does not love you so well as I."

"I have no acquaintances, nor any engagement of that kind, and your apprehensions are entirely unfounded," answered Effie.

About a week after this young lady's departure, there came to the house at which her mother was boarding, a young gentleman named Hardoman, whose family had been old acquaintances of Mrs. Scholten's landlady, who one day invited Mr. Hardoman into the private parlor of Mrs. Scholten. On the centre-table there was an album, which the gentleman picked up, carelessly examining the faces therein. When he came to that of Effie, he started, exclaiming, "Who is she? So sweet a face I never saw--I must know her." As Mrs. Scholten was not at home, he made many inquiries respecting her.

The same evening he sought an introduction to the mother of the lady whose photograph so charmed him, and as soon as consistent with propriety, he asked her when she expected her daughter home. It was her wish, she replied, that Effie should remain several weeks in San Ramone. This he regretted deeply, as he must leave the city during the ensuing week. The day was Saturday. On Sunday morning Mrs. Scholten was surprised to receive a letter from Effie, saying that her health had not improved, and, with her mother's permission, she desired to return Tuesday. To this the mother immediately replied, advising her to remain longer, and give herself more time to recuperate; but if she could not be contented, it would be useless to do so. Young Hardoman heard of the letter of his unknown enamorato, and besought her mother to urge her to return. She gave him no encouragement. However, nothing daunted, he requested permission to go to the boat and escort her home. Mrs. Scholten told him she did not expect her.

"At any rate, I will go down, and, if she is there, say to her, 'I came with your mother's approbation, to escort you home.'"

"You will not know her," rejoined Mrs. Scholten.

"I can never forget that face," was all the answer he gave. He then provided himself with a beautiful bouquet of white rosebuds, ("I saw it afterwards," said the lady from whom I have the story), wended his way to the boat, stationed himself by the stairway, observing closely all the feminine faces which emerged from the cabin. When Effie appeared, he approached her, doffing his beaver and saying, "It gives me pleasure to bow in the presence of Miss Scholten, with the consent of whose mother I am here to escort her home. And in token, Miss Scholten, of your appreciation of my good intentions, I beg you to accept this bouquet."

Effie, perfectly bewildered, mechanically received the flowers, starting out. Mrs. Scholten was not expecting her, and when the pair walked in, she could scarcely believe her eyes. This was Tuesday evening. To a victim so forcibly and so suddenly striken of the unerring archer, as young Hardoman, the green-eyed monster, of course, presented himself--and so he repeated to Effie, probably, at all events to himself, of these old fellows, the words of the bard of Avon: {poem stanza} "Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows, 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not king, And Nature as it grows again toward earth, Is fashioned for the journey--dull and heavy."

The bouquet is not withered, for flowers fade not readily in this bracing sea-air. It is Thursday evening, the white roses are on Effie's brow; she is standing beside her young and handsome lover, and the minister--"our minister"--he whose horses I so sorely frightened upon a certain memorable morning in my history, and who, by his devotion and energy, has erected, in less than a year, a beautiful temple wherein the denizens of the Pacific metropolis meet to chant their Maker's praises--is saying, "Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." Next day, the bridegroom's imperative business engagements compelled him to leave for Humboldt Bay. The bride had much preparation for her new position to make, so she remained with her mother, intending in two weeks to join her husband. She then took passage on the Del Norte, the steamer that was sent up the coast to search for the wreck of humanity on the ill-fated Brother Jonathan. The bay on this stormy coast was so rough, the vessel could not make the port for which our bride was destined, and she was compelled to go on to Victoria. On the downward voyage, however, the Del Norte restored her to her now anxiously expectant husband.

"It was a match made in haste," said my informant, "but if the mother's satisfaction is a barometer by which to judge of the daughter's happiness, the old story of 'repentance at leisure' is falsified in this instance."

Now, there are some children to whom, if you relate the story of Daniel in the lion's den, they will wish to know the exact length of each lion from his nasal to his caudal extremity. And so there are young ladies, to whom, if you describe the style of a bridal robe, they will inquire the length of the trail and the texture, dimensions and quality of the veil, and the weight of the wedding ring. And in evidence that I have a sympathy for such, I will reproduce a story related by our fellow-passenger on the Costa Rica, Mr. La Rue:

"When we were first married," said this gentleman, "we spent some time in Cuba. Have you been in Havana, madam?" "I have not," I replied. "I am sorry," he rejoined; "though you have a pleasure in anticipation. My wife was charmed with the island, they are so hospitable and make you so entirely at home. If you take off your hat, or throw aside your cigar, these graceful daughters of the evergreen island will bid you make yourself easy and comfortable, assuring you that their happiness is best promoted thereby, with such a charming, irresistibly winning way about them, that you at once place yourself at ease to oblige them. If I had not been a bridegroom at the time, I do not know whether Mrs. La Rue would have relished altogether my enthusiastic admiration of the dark-eyed senoritas of Havana. However, she bore about her a happy consciousness that I had had much ado to win her, (I hope she doesn't hear me), and such a thing as a doubt of my devotion never entered her head--just as it should be with a good wife such as mine. We had no cares then--nothing but pleasure to seek; so one day we accepted an invitation from Don Juan Castillo to visit his country seat. It was a castle, after the fashion of some European model, and, in addition to the floral attractions of the place--a coffee plantation--there were rare paintings and statues, and articles of vertu, of endless variety and extent. And the china, and glass, and silver from which we were served, was so dainty and exquisite, they seemed fit alone for the festal board of a princess of the realm. Said Mrs. La Rue, who was, if I may judge by myself, (no bad criterion in most cases), very happy in her newly-married life, to our host: 'Don Juan, you have everything to make you happy but some one to love and share your happiness. Why do you live alone?' 'I am no longer young, madame,' replied the Don; 'I cannot fancy a woman suitable in years for me, and if I marry a young woman she put--something in my coffee!'"

Reader, I trust you see the application without my taking the trouble to make it stick out like the handle of a jug, as a certain gifted man, who unfortunately knew too much about jugs, would say.

And this story of Cuba brings us to the windward passage, through which the Costa Rica, with her heavy burden of human freight, is sailing. The skies are bright, and the sea is returning their smile. We have not seen land since leaving the Isthmus, nor do we again behold the face of mother earth after passing these islands, the last of which is Mayaguana, upon which we are now gazing, as though we had never seen land before until we reach Sandy Hook.

{centered} CHAPTER XII. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} NIGHT AND MORNING. {poem line} "Night; Oh, not night. Where are its comrades twain--silence and sleep?" {right justified} L. E. L.

"YOU bade us good-night too early last night," said my friend, Mrs. Crosby, as we sat in the dawn, in our steamer chairs, with our feet resting in the lap of the chairs of our friends, who had rooms more airy and could afford to sleep while the decks were being washed off.

"Why so? Had you a monkey-show or fire-works after we retired?"

"Better than either; we had a comedy of errors surpassing that of Shakspeare. There was a great rush for mattresses last night, and bribery never ran higher in the Congress of the United States, nor in the Legislature of my native State, New York, than it did last night on this little Costa Rica. Some old gentleman who had paid his first-cabin fare to New York, had succeeded, after extraordinary exertion, in securing a mattress and blanket. So he made down his bed, and going upon deck, was detained by some of his friends. During his absence, a young person whom you may have observed, a milliner from San Francisco, who had one of the best state-rooms on the Sacramento, and on this side has not where to lay her head, spied the mattress unappropriated. So, taking your chair and mine with two or three others, she improvises a bed, upon which she places the mattress; and, lying down in her dress, she covered herself up, dreaming of one blessed night of rest. Presently the ancient gentleman, whom she had robbed, came back, and when he saw that his bed had been stolen, he raved and stamped until every one of us, on the guards as well as those in the upper state-rooms, rose up to see what was to pay. No sooner had the audience arisen, however, than he spied the novel sleeping arrangement of the young milliner, and rushing up to her, took hold of the mattress of the pretended sleeper, toppling her out of the chairs and into the midst of a party of men, women and children, who make their beds over that way. The girl had on her dress, and nothing daunted, she sprang up, giving chase, jerking the mattress, until I thought they would each have a half. We all laughed until midnight. I am surprised you did not hear us below; they heard it above and some came down to see what was going on. But the play did not end here. You have probably observed on board a doctress, dressed in stuff with immense flowers on it. She is a large person herself, however. Well, she espoused the cause of the milliner, she being in the like category, and so the twain repaired to the purser's office. The young lady was inclined to regard it as a joke and to laugh over it; but not so the anointed of Esculapius. The officer who had, in all probability, been lying there with direful forebodings of such interruption, was very difficult to rouse. {poem} (first line right justified} "'Who knocks so late, And knocks so loud at our convent gate?' or something to that effect, said the purser, at length. The irate doctress answered,

"'We both paid first-cabin fare to New York, purser, and here we are without even so much as a pillow to lay our heads upon. And the people who got on at Aspinwall, great stout men, are lying up here now in state-rooms, snoring like porpoises, and here we are sitting up all night in chairs, or wandering about like spirits. I guess, if we was like some women aboard, we'd have state-rooms.' The officer shut the door in her face; but he underrated the metal of his antagonist. She battered away, demanding the room in which he was so comfortably ensconced as her right. Finally another mattress was produced, and the disconsolate pair lay down to such repose as they could find in such narrow limits."

Just as Mrs. Crosby had concluded these remarks, the subjects of them walked by. "How did you settle the matter with the purser last night?" says Mrs. Crosby to the doctress, whom I recognized by the poppies and marigolds on her dress.

"We got a piece of a mattress," says she. The milliner laughed. "I don't see how you can laugh at being cheated out of your rights. I guess if we was like that woman with the spaniel, we'd have state-rooms, eh?"

"Oh, I liked the fun. Wasn't that old gentleman in a fury?" lightly replied her companion, who was rather an interesting girl. She had a complexion of milky whiteness, auburn hair and blue eyes, and wore a white dress with blue ribbons and little blue spots, which formed an admirable contrast, and yet corresponded with the minute and not unsightly freckles on her face.

I am thus particular in describing her, because this midnight adventure and the good-nature she displayed served to render her quite a belle for the time being. Every body, especially every body who was in a similar situation, talked of her and her amiability; many winding up by saying, "No wonder old Vanderbilt is worth 'forty millions.' The state-rooms on the Sacramento averaged a thousand dollars a piece to New York, and she is steaming back with the load the Costa Rica took down; and in addition, here are these way-passengers. That Peruvian with the pretty wife paid 'em four hundred dollars from the Isthmus, and the couple sit there enjoying a state-room all to themselves. And these Spanish ladies, they've got good rooms--how did that happen?"

"They ought to be published!" such remarks and many more were uttered on all sides. And how is it with the three hundred and thirty-three children? Positively I never saw such insufficient protection on the most insignificant Missouri or Mississippi river steamboat as that afforded by the guards around the Costa Rica's deck.

I was talking to a very pleasant lady, a Mrs. Anderson, of the fashionable topic. "You, I perceive, have one of the lowest state-rooms; so have I. In mine there is but one round port-hole by which we can get a breath of air; and that old lady, your room-mate, on the other side, she tells me, gives us battle every time we open that. Positively, in the mornings we seem to have risen from a vapor bath."

"Ah, and so you have her--the old screw. However, she was very polite to me after the first morning, when I intimated to her that it would be as well she treated us courteously, as, in an emergency, even Brooks might push her a plank. And although she has not spoken a word to me since, which I regard as a happy circumstance indeed, she is careful to accord to me the right of way which I, in virtue of her years, as gracefully wave back upon her, on all occasions."

"I supposed she was especially charmed with you, as a room-mate," replied Mrs. Anderson, "from some remarks she made."

"You should see," said I, "the Signora Armijo on her way to Madeira, she and a person bound for Dublin have the room opposite ours, without even a port-hole, as you call it. Sometimes in the morning they come stumbling into our room, begging us for a breath of air, their room being by that time equal to an exhausted air-receiver. On this ship, the line of Shelly, 'Good night--how can such a night be good?' is very appropriate, and yet we have much to be thankful for. It is a new vessel; and that accident on the railway in crossing, came very near being a serious one. I verily believe the engineer was in league with the hotel-keepers and surgeons at Aspinwall. Such carelessness I never heard of. Did you know we buried a man on the Isthmus?"

"No; was it the consumptive boy?"

"Yes; it was one of the three; but not Mrs. McMurtry's protegé. Miss Alvord and Miss Eaton have been collecting funds for the remaining two, who will, in all probability, live to get home."

Brooks now came along with his friend, Col. Fisher; the latter commenced talking to Mrs. Anderson, and the former putting his arms around my neck, whispered: "Mamma, when I get a man I think I'll get me a little Spanish wife. That Spanish lady from Aspinwall is the very prettiest lady on the ship--if she didn't paint her face so. Mamma, you just ought to see that boy that belongs to the navy. If you just want to ruin a boy, mamma, send him to the navy. That one drinks, and he smokes, and he--cusses too."

Col. Fisher was telling Mrs. Anderson a story of the Chilian party, which I insisted he should repeat from the beginning, as I had an especial interest in love-stories.

"You have observed a tall person, with brown whiskers and brown clothing who got on at Aspinwall--he is very often to be seen with the pretty Spanish widow--Brooks is in love with her."

"I know. I heard him tell her last evening that he was very fond of making love; her face brightened for an instant, then changed expression, when he added: 'But only to my wife.'"

"The same person," resumed the colonel; "he has been eighteen years in Chili. Only once has he been back home, and on that visit, he met in answer to the door-bell of a friend, a beautiful, golden-haired child. He was so enchanted with her that he made a contract at once, to educate her for him. He then returned to Chili, and last year wrote her mother, begging her to bring her daughter--now seventeen--to him at his expense. She came in care of her brother; they were married, and a man so fearfully in love I never saw He raves of his own wife."

"Rather an ancient Romeo," said I, laughing.

"And I fear she is no Juliet," replied the colonel, with a strange expression upon his face, for which I afterwards learned to account. "She remained with him a few months, when she grew weary of the society around her, desiring to visit her parents. A slave to his wealth, as rich men so often are, he could not leave; so giving her in all twenty-five thousand dollars, he placed her in charge of a friend, seeing her safely on board a steamer homeward bound. Since that time he has not heard from her. He is madly jealous; fancies she has a lover at home, and is now on his way, unheralded by any letters or dispatches, to observe unobserved her movements. There he is now."

"I have observed his restless air frequently," remarked Mrs. Anderson.

{centered} CHAPTER XIII. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} PHOTOGRAPHY AND PHRENOLOGY. {centered, line} "Your gown is a most rare fashion, i' faith!" {right justified} SHAKSPEARE.

UPON this occasion our heroine is unlike Desdemona, Juliet, Ophelia, Pauline, Corinne, Kate Aubrey, Kate Nickleby, Becky Sharp, Die Vernon, Joan of Arc; indeed, I know of no heroine of whom she is not the antithesis--possibly a single exception occurs to me. Happily, however, I am not pledged to give the reader the benefit of all my fine thoughts. And yet Baily says: {poem stanza, small font} "Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which Men are, and ought to be, accountable."

Alas! I fear, there are but too many in the present day who take the same view of the subject. But writers in the Elizabethan age so murmured, and Solomon says of making books there is no end. So let them think and render an account; if, in their thinking, they but pause to consider accountability to the proper tribunal.

We have wandered far from our present purpose, however, which is simply an introduction; not so very simple a thing either, if done gracefully, whether in the drawing-room or upon paper. Though we trust after making such ado over it, you will feel some desire to know a heroine so unlike her sister heroines. Behold, then, a stout person, much inclined to embonpoint. For one of her age she has excellent hair and teeth, and she really fancies that years, though they have nipped the blooming beauty of her contemporaries, have left her unscathed. And her tastes and manners unhappily belong to a period of the past.

At the time of which we write, she is attired in a robe made too short for the fashion, of orange stripes, shaded into royal purple, this gaudy gown being flounced and fringed to the waist. On her neck she wears a lace collar, with long points, the proper adjustment of which has cost her a mental struggle, since she considers nothing so becoming as a bow of ribbon, with long flowing ends, and yet these desirable ends would hang down and conceal the classic points of elaborately worked lace, which brought her collar to so satisfactory a termination. Finally, however, a compromise was effected, by the conversion of these refractory ends into a bow for the top of her head; said brilliant scarlet bow becoming the centre of a nest of lace. And her fine hair, of which she is justly proud, has been subjected to a fiery ordeal before consenting to be distorted into little wiry cork-screw curls, which add to rather than diminish the smiling breadth of her smooth face, upon which scarce a wrinkle is to be traced. That the most gifted, as well as the best of people, are guilty of errors in taste, will not be denied by any one at all experienced. Goldsmith's peach-bloom coat, which no biographer ever fails to mention, as well as his objections to the ministry, because the profession demanded a grave coat of black cloth, and who astounded the Bishop of Elphin, before whom he appeared for ordination (as Mr. Irving tells), luminously arrayed in scarlet breeches, is proof sufficient if evidence be needed in support of my theory. For Goldsmith was not only one of the most gifted, but one of the very best-hearted men whose histories dignify and adorn the annals of human nature. Cotemporaneous biography is, however, the object of the sketch in question; so we will proceed with our heroine, Mrs. Fishpool, to the photographic gallery, of which she is in search--viz., that of Howland & Co., Market, near Montgomery street, San Francisco. It was, of course, with a view to this visit that the elaborate toilet we have described was projected.

"Well! well! them steps is monstrous hard to clime," remarks Mrs. Fishpool, throwing herself back into a chair, puffing and blowing and fanning herself with a Chinese fan of feathers. "Good mornin' to you, Mr. Painter," says she, "I'm come at last for to git my potograft struck. Now, Mr. Painter, I warnt you for ter make it kinder churfull like; I want to send it to my niece, Mary Jane Scruggs, as was, though she has latterly married Jim Pendergnast--Jeems, I should say--Jeems Pendergnast, son of ole man--gentleman Pendergnast, as owns the mill close on to the thrivin' little town of Slanty, in the State of Michigan. Well, Mary Jane, my niece, she's made a bargain, shure--for Jeems he's well to do--and Mary Jane, she's got a fine parlor and a centre-table with a album for photografts and sich likes on it. And so lass week she written me a letter a beggin' me for tu hev my pictur struck and send it to her for to ornament her centre-table."

"Please take this seat, madam. I am happy to serve you; think I can make a good likeness of you," said the artist.

"No, thankee, sir, if it's all one ter you, I'd just set here by the winder and be a looking at the comers and goers, for 'tain't offen I gets to town noways."

"But, madam, it is necessary for me to take an impression."

"Oh, sartainly, sartainly, take all de 'pressions yer likes; jest so as yer makes it look kinder lively like, bein' as I want to send it to my niece, Mary Jane Scruggs, that was, though she has latterly married Jim--I should say Jeems Pendergnast"---

"Madam," begins the artist,---

"For ter chur her up," continues Mrs. Fishpool.

"Yes, I understand, madam, perfectly, madam; but in order to secure a correct position"---

"Oh, sartainly, sartainly; jist strike it in any persition yer likes, so as you makes it look churful, like I want it, for to chur up my niece, Mary Jane Scruggs, that was"---

The artist looks at his watch, saying, somewhat abruptly, "Madam, time is money to me; there are at least a dozen waiting on me now."

"Time is money, eh!" satirically replies Mrs. Fishpool; "like as I hadn't hearn' that before you was born, or thought of bein' born. Well, I dunno as I hearn' it that long ago, but I've hearn' it afore to-day,"

"Be so good as to take your seat in this chair, Mrs. Fishpool," says the photographer, smiling in spite of his impatience.

"Now, I'd like to know why I can't every grain as well set here by the winder, an' look at the folks a comin' an' a goin'?"

"I tell you, Mrs. Fishpool, it is absolutely necessary for me to take an impression of your features in this instrument, this camera obscura," rejoins the artist.

"Ah, ha! ha! is that what you'r up to, Mr. Painter? I jist thought you had to talk and laff, an' look around about you, and the more lively like you looked the more natral the pictur'd be. I say, Mr. Painter, ef I'me got to look at that little four-legged tamity scutiry, du ye call it, why can't you bring it round here by the winder, so as I kin be a lookin' at the comers and goers? Mount Gummery street hain't as common to me as it is to you."

"Madam," peremptorily exclaims the man of impressions, "you must either take your seat at once in this chair, or I shall be compelled to decline taking a picture of you."

"Ah, well, I s'pose ef I've got to give up my seat by the winder, I've got to do it, and I mout as well do it at oncet; but it 'pears to me, Mr. Painter, you're monsous contrary like," said the old lady, rising with some difficulty from her chair.

The artist arranges the gaudy drapery. "There, that's it, a little more to the left. Just let your head rest against this." All this was said in a very soft tone of voice, meant to be encouraging; however, the poor man's troubles were not so near having finis stamped upon them as he imagined. For no sooner had her head touched the rest than she hopped up, looking around, exclaiming--

"What's that touched my head? Sure as I live it's a iron pitchfork. What a quare thing for a painter's studium, to be sure! Belike you're a denter man. Do you think I warnt all the teeth pulled outen my head, and new ones of your mannyfactur sot in?"

Humor conquered impatience, even the impatience of a photographer, and the artist smiled audibly, pointing to his surroundings, and determining to have a likeness of her, let it cost him what it might.

"Mrs. Fishpool, if I were a dentist, I should have skeletons or skulls and rows of false teeth ornamenting my room; not faces such as these you behold. Please be seated; we will get a likeness this time. You let me do the talking now, and I'll warrant you'll get a lively picture, only you must keep very quiet, and look right here; do not take your eyes off that spot--there--quiet--don't speak--all ready--hush." The first negative was a photographed gape. The subject was, however, so well pleased to see her own mouth and her own teeth, every one of them there, that she resolved to make an extraordinary effort next time, and the second was charming--so said the artist--though Mrs. Fishpool expressed her willingness to sit again, now she had found out how it was done. "'Twarn't nothing'." She felt a little weary, however, and gave vent to a hope that Miranda would have a cup of tea all ready for her 'gin she got home; "for," says she to the artist in a confidential manner, "a cup of tea is a good thing."

At this period Fishpool--worthy man--had been dead above a year. His relict, who deeply lamented him, descanting upon his many virtues, chief of which was, "that he was a good provider;" and though she wore weeds of mourning, she buttoned on white cuffs, sighing as she said, "Poor dear, he was so fond of onions, and I never would let him eat 'em, bekase the smell on 'em went so agin me. But if he was jist back here now, eh, eh, he might eat pole cats, if he was a mind ter. But thar's an overrulin' Providence in all things; he had his life inskewered--poor dear--he was allers so thoughtful 'bout me, an' what was to bercome ov me when he was dead and gone; and, as I was sayin', he had his life inskewered, an' if he had a-lived a week lackin' two days longer, the polity would a gi'n out." A few weeks after the demise of this most exemplary husband, a Mrs. Bennet paid a visit of condolence to her neighbor.

Now Mrs. Bennet wore a very pretty sprigged delaine--a bright, cheery-looking robe, which well became her. And no sooner had Mrs. Fishpool cast her eyes upon it, than she burst into a cry, sobbing out, "Poor dear, how much good it would a done him to a seed me dressed in that dress o' yourn; he loved for me to ware bright colors. I know he would a objected to this monein, poor dear, ef he could a spoke; he couldn't speak, poor dear; he'd a told me not to put on this moneful monein. The very day the year rolls round, I'll pull it offen me, and lay it aside. I know it would do him good to see me with it offen me. He was mostly sot agin charity scieties, Miss Bennet, and he never 'lowed me to give no munny to 'em, "bekase," says he to me, says he, 'Charrity begins to hum, and 'tis more sensibler to keep your munny fur yourself, than to be a givin' it outen your hands to the heathens, and sich trash like.'"

"Mr. Fishpool was a good husband. I expect you miss him very much," remarked Mrs. Bennet.

"Good sakes alive! good warn't no name fur it, Miss Bennet. He'd a ben grieved to death like, ef he'd a seen me with this moneful monein on ter me. Raly, Miss Bennet, I couldn't enjoy his funeral, for thinkin' how 'twould a gone agin him to see me in monein fur him."

Mrs. Bennet made another effort to change the subject; so she said, "You must be very lonely, living here all to yourself."

"Lonesome! lonesome hain't no name fur it; but when I gets to feelin' kinder deserlate like, I thinks to myself, what poor dear Fishpool usener to say, jokin' like; says he to me, says he, 'Polly Betsy, when I'm gone, you'll dress out fitten to kill, and some fellor 'll come along an' pick you up; mind what I say,' says he, an' wouldn' wonder tall ef 'twas so. Miss Bennet, he was a good man, an' 'twas hard, no mistake about that, 'twas hard fur him to die, an' leave me all alone by myself. I'll declare, 'twas absurd. But he couldn't help hisself, poor dear, no mor'n I could. 'Spose I hadn't oughter take it so hard. Poor dear, this monein would a 'stressed him so, ef he had a lived to a seed it."

It now becomes our duty, as a perspicuous biographer, to retrocede somewhat. When the conversation reported above, and which I fear falls far beneath the original, took place, Mrs. Fishpool and Mrs. Bennet were both residents of Sonoma. Since that period, Mr. Bennet had removed to San Francisco, and Mrs. Fishpool had now come down to visit Mrs. Bennet, see the signets, and have her "potograft," as we have seen, struck. Could Mr. Bennet have known the morning he conducted his guest to the top of Mr. Howland's stairs, leaving her until called for, what sport he had missed, I imagine he would have thrown his razor in the Bay, vowing never to shave himself again, until the blunder was expiated. Indeed, no sooner had his wife reported to him to the conversation which occurred upon the occasion of her visit of condolence, than he vowed he wouldn't take a foot and a half in the Ophir, for his interest in the widow. Mr. Bennet was, to say truth, a regular Punchinello in his way, and for a little fun he would have imperiled his existence. Now Mrs. Fishpool was exceedingly shocked at the want of prudence, and the lack of propriety evinced by many of the California ladies. So one evening, when Mrs. Bennet resolved to go to see Dan Setchel, in the company of some friends, leaving Mr. Bennet, who was confined to the house by a sprain, and Mrs. Fishpool, both at home, the latter demurred, much to Mr. Bennet's amusement. Said she, in a whisper to Mrs. Bennet, "My dear, I know there ain't a bit o' harm in it, but it don't look well."

At this time there was in San Francisco an eccentric physician, to whom Mr. Bennet was much attached; but had his own father come in the way of his ruling passion he must have been sacrificed. Dr. Bugly was a popular physician, and his history formed the ground-work of many a conjecture. Once he had said in the presence of some old ladies who were rallying him upon his bachelorhood, and recommending, as old ladies will when they wish to please--one young girl after another, "that he had trained one pup," which metaphor was supposed to mean, that he had either been divorced from a young wife, or had come to California, as many others, to place the seas between himself and "many gathered miseries in one name," matrimonial infelicity. In appearance, Dr. Bugly was peculiar; he had a rapid walk, and as he sped through the streets, on professional or social calls intent, he left upon your retina the impression that he was all-back, except what was elbows and knee-joints. Had he been sent as an envoy to any tribe of North American Indians, his presence must have been equivalent to a declaration of war, since they would undoubtedly have thought his face a fearful type of the symbolic hatchet. And yet, he had beautiful eyes, which flashed with humor or melted into tenderness, looking finest with the last emotion by which they were irradiated. He was believed to be a most excellent family physician, being especially skilled in diseases pertaining to women and children. Moreover, he had rare social qualities, and appreciated our Punchinello, with whom he was, as we have before said, a great favorite. Says Mr. Bennet, catching the doctor by the button-hole, as he flew through the street, "Bugly, my wife has a lady friend from Sonoma, visiting her, and will consider it a matter of personal disrespect if you fail to call on her."

"Is she handsome?" inquired the doctor.

"Yes; she is just the opposite of you; and love seeks its opposite, you know."

"Is she rich?"

"Rich!" repeated Mr. Bennet. "She owns the Alvarado ranche, title undisputed."

"Good; I'll call," replied the doctor, flying on--but suddenly returning to say, "I did see a fine-looking lady going up your way, was it she?"

"Certainly," replied Mr. Bennet, not knowing in the least who it was.

The day following there was a pic-nic at the Mission Dolores, and Mrs. Bennet, who was anxious to go and take the children, persuaded Mrs. Fishpool to accompany her, promising to bring her home by the Willows. The house she left in charge of her two nieces, who had just arrived from Alemada. It was upon this day that the doctor called, and as he merely inquired for the ladies, the servant informed Miss Sally Van Voorhies that a gentleman had called for her. Now, Miss Sally was a charming girl, and the doctor, despite his experience with the "one pup," was quite inclined, under the influence of her young and gushing beauty, to throw prudence and philosophy, mere mental physic, to the dogs. The grave doctor so far lost sight of his theories, indeed, that he discoursed most eloquently of carriages, and prancing steeds, and brown-stone fronts, greatly to the amusement of the eaves-dropping Carrie Van Voorhies, who sat upon the veranda in such a position, that she could be seen by her sister, to whom she was continually making mouths, and saying sotto voce, to her little namesake, Carrie Bennet, such words as hem, yes, sir; quite refreshing; how delightful! that would be elegant, etc., to the discomfiture of her sister, who was very fearful the doctor would hear and understand. In that, however, she might have spared her apprehensions, as the doctor was not only slightly deaf, so that sounds at a little distance did not reach him--but he was deeply engrossed. The doctor was traced to Mr. Bennet's by a patient, and so his interview was prematurely broken off. However, he met Mr. Bennet on the street, just returning from Santa Cruz, at which place he had business; so slapping Mr. Bennet on the back, the doctor said, "Bennet, I have been up to see her, and she is charming."

The mystified Mr. Bennet could scarcely believe his ears: "Incredible!" thought he, "that so sensible a man as Dr. Bugly could admire old lady Fishpool!"

Nevertheless, the motives by which some men are actuated are unaccountable to others, to say nothing of the caprices of Cupid. "Who would have thought that what I meant for a rich, practical joke, would have taken such a serious turn?"

When Mr. Bennet got home the pic-nic party had just arrived. At the table, Mr. Bennet said, "I met Dr. Bugly on the street, Mrs. Fishpool, and he tells me he is perfectly charmed with you."

"Ah, indeed? He must a seed me at the pic-nit, or 'tother day at the potograft galaxy."

"He said he had seen you somewhere, and I thought it was here." Carrie Van Voorhies looked at Sally, who gave her a perfect thunder-cloud of a frown, touching her under the table with the toe of her slipper; so Carrie exclaimed, throwing Mr. Bennet still more off the track, "He is a beauty; Mrs. Fishpool, you must set your cap."

"She has already captivated him," says Mr. Bennet.

"La sakes, Mr. Bennet, what makes you talk so? I hain't even sot eyes on him yit. Fishpool used to say belike I'd pick up somebody afore long, but I never thought 'bout doin' it, sure nouf."

Next day Mr. Bennet met Dr. Bugly again: "Come up, doctor," said he, "glad to hear you're so well pleased up our way. Come up this evening."

"Thank you; I'll do so with pleasure," replied the doctor, passing on rapidly as usual.

The long day at length wore wearily away; and, as the doctor closed his office door, he recited a line from Moore-- {centered, small font}

"How dear to me the hour when daylight dies."

Mrs. Fishpool was in a state of great expectation, and made many appeals to Carrie Van Voorhies (her sister was spending the evening with a friend), upon the vexed question of toilet. Could the emotions of Mrs. Fishpool have found classic language as did the Doctor's, she would have repeated a stanza from another British poet-- {centered, small}

"This, as I guess, should be th' appointed time."

Those who love to watch the play of emotions upon the human face divine would have found pleasure in the contemplation of Mr. Bennet's physiognomy, as he introduced Dr. Bugly to Mrs. Fishpool.

Dr. Bugly was in high feather, expecting every moment to behold the fair face of his inamorata. So he talked very kindly to Mrs. Fishpool. Mr. Bennet was amazed, mistaking the Doctor's position and feelings entirely. Finally, he left the room.

"They tell me, Doctor," says Mrs. Fishpool, "that you are matrimoniously inclined."

"I don't know so much about that," replied the Doctor, somewhat confused, "but she is a charming woman. Too young for a man of my age, probably, but don't know as I ought to object to that, if---"

"Not at all, not at all. I'm not a bit too young for you, Doctor; my har an teeth is good, an' most people thinks I'm raly younger'n I be. Flesh be a powerful thing to hide wrinkles. You be the most sensible man I ever see, Doctor; they's most ginrally a killin' their selves a runnin' arter young women."

"Good evening, Mrs. Fishpool," said the Doctor, taking his hat and bolting out of the door; "there's a mistake somewhere, the old Fee-jee!"

Mrs. Fishpool lost no time in informing Mrs. Bennet that she thought Dr. Bugly a very corrupt man in his manners.

"We was a gitting on fine; he was a-a-purposin' an' all that, and when I said, said I 'Doctor, you're sensible not to be a runnin' arter womins as is too young for you,' an' he'd ben a sayin' somethin' 'bout lookin' too young fur him, but didn't know's he's ought to be the one to object to that. Well, we was jist talkin' 'long that a way, when all at once he says, says he, 'a good evenin' to you, Miss Fishpool,' and out he bolted, like as he'd got inter a nest er tarranterlums. 'Twarn't perlite; 'twarn't 'cordin' to manners, by no means."

Next morning, Mr. Bennet posted off betimes to the Doctor's office. The worthy physician tried to keep dark, knowing the fun-loving proclivities of his friend, but he soon found that it was no use. Finally, said he, "Bennet, keep quiet, old fellow, unless you are ready to submit to the dissection of that corpulent anatomy of yours." Mrs. Fishpool was fearfully exercised, thought the Doctor was either a trifler with feminine affection, or that some mischief-maker had been plotting her everlasting celibacy. Fortunately, however, just as she was considering the propriety of employing legal counsel, Mr. Bennet brought home with him a traveling phrenologist.

The itinerant inspector of bumps had been for some days on the search for our heroine. His name was Brunck--Professor Brunck, he styled himself. The following conversation between himself and Mrs. Fishpool will give some insight into the immediate object of his visit:

"I've ben up in Sonomy, inquirin' round fur the effex of my late brother Briah Brunck, and from what I've hear'n, I kallate he leff his effex, most like, in your hands."

"An' so you be Briah's brother; well, I'm monstous glad you're cum. Yes, he leff his effex, belike all the effex he leff, in my hans."

"Warn't he rich? we allers heard back to hum that he'd got powerful rich, so when I seen his death 'nounced in the papers, I sot out fur Leavensworth, 'tendin' to take the stage crost the plains. But the rates of farr was mor'n I kallated on payin', an' so I struck out an' tooken it afoot. An' I made nigh on to as good time as 'tother emigration trains. 'Casionally, on the way, I'd stop and deliver a lecture on phrenology, an' examine heads. Most ginrally I gotten two dollars for a head an' chart; folks, you know, on the way to a new country, was anxious like to know what they's best fitten fur. This a way I contrived to git acrost, with nigh on to no bills for victuals at the ranches at all, and in fact I made money by the trip. I know I hain't a distinguished phrenologist like Fowler, but I kallate he couldn't a done better hisself. Fowler couldn't, ahem! Phrenology, Miss Fishpool, is one of the greatest sciences of modern times, or anncient, uther. 'Bout two hundred years ago, thar was a temple 'rected in anncient Greece, called the Temple of Delphos; well, over the gate like, or the door, of the temple, the anncients wrote, 'Know thyself.' Think for a minit, Miss Fishpool, of the concentrated, doubled and twisted, double extract of wisdom, as it ware, in them two words, 'Know thyself,' an' you'll have, I kallate, a clar idee of the portentousness of the science of phrenology.

"Now ef I was a gwine to marry a woman, though I hain't no notion of that just now, that is, right away, bekase I've only hearn of the death of my pore wife sense I gotten here. She died three months back; but as I was a sayin', ef I was a lookin' up a wife, or you was a lookin' up another husban, Miss Fishpool, which hain't at all likely, I could jist examine them heads, be they male or female, and tell you in less'n no time ef they'd make ergreable partners."

"Sakes erlive, an' you could. I wish you'd a come a little sooner; but 'taint no matter now.

"Phrenology, mum, is never wrong. I've made it my study, an' though I say it as oughtn't to say it, ef I had a ben forrard enough, and pushed myself forrard, like some folks in this worl does, I'd a ben as great a Phrenologer as Fowler hisself. It has allers, from time immortal, ben the fate of modess merit to be over-power'd and passed over, like. I kallate in time though, as I'll git a holt of the effex of my late brother, an' then I'll advertise, an' git some skulls of Tecumsy, an' Dannel Webster, an' John C. Calhoun, an' John Brown, an' Brigham Young, an' Fred. Douglas--an' then I kin' 'lustrate my lecturs like Fowler. Here's a pictur, mum, of Brigham Young. I got it as I cum through Salt Lake, to 'lustrate my lecturs--a fine lookin' man, as you kan see fur youself; an' this, eighty of his little girls on thar way to school. Philoprogenitiveness, mum, is seven on Brigham's head. Seven is the maxinum on my chart. But as I was about to say, Craniology, Crannyoscopy, Phrenology, Crannyoscopy Insyphaloscopy, is terms, mum, as all scientifical persons, be they Phersicians, Lawyers, or what not, afore they kin be skilled in thare own branch of the tree of knowledge, they must be conducted into, by the labarysaisms of larnin'. I look upon it as one of the most wonderful revelations of modern times, er anncient either, that the wisdom of man should have led him to the diskivery of the orgins upon the cranioscopum of a man or a woman, which orgins is the seat of the particilar sort of intellex or morrils as the individual is characterized by."

"La, sakes! hain't it wonderful! wonderful!" exclaimed his auditor, deeply impressed with the mysterious lore of the lecturer.

"Sposen I make an examination of your head now, Miss Fishpool; you kin larn more about it in one examination than two lecturs, though my lecturs is very plain. Yo've got a fine head, Miss Fishpool--a fine subject. This, mum," says he, placing his fingers lightly on the forehead, and passing them leisurely around, "is Beneverlence. Goodness--mildness, that is very prominent. Imitation, deficient. Firmness, large. Tune, very prominent--guess you're a great hand for singin'."

"You bet I be," replied the happy phrenological subject. "Go on, Mr. Brunck. I'm curus to know what's a comin' nex."

"Color, very prominent!--you have taste in the selection of colors."

"You hit it every single time, Mr. Phrenology. It likened to a kill'd me a warin' black for my poor dear Fishpool. I know'd it would a gone agin him so to a seed me in it. It may be a sin, but I'm so fond of yarler, an' red, an' all things bright."

"Memory of persons! You never forgets nobody, Miss Fishpool."

"No mor'n I don't nuther; how you do hit it! Go on."

"Love of authority, great. Now ef you had a husband and children, Miss Fishpool, I kallate you'd rule him, heh?"

"Jist what Fishpool, poor dear, used to say. Says he, 'I mout as well give it up fust as lass, fur you'll hev your way.' 'Well,' says I, 'somebody's bound to rule in the best regilated families, an' ef you don't do the rulin', in course it falls 'pon my sholeders.'"

"Pride, vanity, ambition. You're very fond of dress; you love to make a show, and to look better'n any body else, be the next one what they may."

"Jist what Fishpool said."

"Acquisitiveness, strong. You love to make money, and you know how to do it."

"La sakes, how you do hit it! Jist as Fishpool said, says he, 'Polly Betsy,' says he, 'it is a good thing to hev a wife as is a help-mate, an' not a spen-mate, as some of my neighbors' wives, as I could name is.'"

"That's so," emphatically rejoins the man of science; "but if I had sich a wife, I wouldn't warnt her to du nothin' 'tall but set up an' cross her hands for me to look at her."

"Sakes alive! Mister Brunck, how you talk! go on with your 'zamination."

"Combativeness; you won't 'low yourself to be imposed upon uther. You'll gin in long as you think it's rationable, but when you think things is a pressin' on you a little tu hard, you gin 'em back as good as hey send, lick for lick."

"That's so; I never denied that I hain't a gwine to be 'poson nuther."

"Philoprogenitiveness, prominent. You've got a fine head, Miss Fishpool. When you're going to Sonomy?"

"I'll go back to-morrow if you're wantin' to look arter your brother, poor Briah, his effex. I never looked into 'em; thar's a bundle a papers tho' in my chist that I took good care on, for, thinks I, most like some of his kin' 'll come along some day."

Mr. Bennet was more than compensated for all his trouble and hospitality by Mrs. Fishpool's account of the phrenologist, and the wonderful hits he had made in her case. As he bade his guest good-bye next morning, said he, "I'm neither a prophet, nor the son of a prophet, but I'd bet you a wedding-dress that you're Mrs. Brunck next time I see you."

"Hain't you 'shamed of yourself, Mr. Bennet, to be a talkin' so, an' his wife hain't been dead more'n three months?"

"Three months!" exclaimed Mr. Bennet. "Three months! Well--she's dead as she'll ever be. She can't ever come back here any more: if she's gone to the bad place, they won't let her--and if she's gone to the good place, she won't want to; and so you just as well think no more of that matter. You didn't let it trouble you, I hope?"

"Yes--all things had oughter be done decently, you know; but, la sakes! Mr. Brunck's not one of the matrimonious kind; he's devoted to signens and book larnin' an' sich like."

"Well, send me some wedding-cake, any way; so farewell, Mrs. Brunck-Fishpool."

Mr. Brunck was enraptured with the beauty of the Alvarado Ranche, taking some pains to inform himself in respect to the validity of the title. Meanwhile, however, his brother's effects had been delivered over to him by Mrs. Fishpool, who, watching him unwind the cord, and open a brown-paper parcel, which contained an empty pocket-book and a diary, fastened by a small cedar pencil with an ivory cap on it, was deeply concerned as to the result, though she said she was not one likely to be deceived about a person's property, particularly a person "she knowed as well as poor dear Briah." The contents of the diary were not very satisfactory to the phrenologist. From the first page on which the deceased commenced keeping school, Monday, September 6th, interspersed with occasional collections and expenditures, visits to the Fishpools, letters to B.R., there was nothing to throw any light upon the complicated affairs of the estate--neither the deeds to nor the location of which, could be ascertained. The next inquiry was as to the identity of this mysterious B. R. Probably he would throw some light upon the matter. B.R. was most likely some snake in the grass, that had taken in the confiding, unsuspecting Beriah. Mrs. Fishpool and the neighbors agreed as to their being no property beyond the brown-paper parcel. Mr. Brunck had not walked two thousand miles over sand and sage brush to give it up that easily; so he said to himself as he turned the pages of the diary, "I'll, I'll make him render a satisfactory account, or I'll--I'll set the lawyers on to him." Finally, there was a little, crumpled, worn note found in one of the little pockets of the diary, signed Bertha Richardson. So the mysterious B. R. was discovered.

"La sakes alive! I might a thought ov that; he was monsous fond ov kapin' company with Berthy. Berthy was a teacher down to Nevady county, Californy, an' he used to live down thar. I've often heard him talk ov the dust he panned out in a day, in them ar mines down to Grass Valley."

"Well, it's curos what's become of it all; but now we've diskivered B. R. I don't see as that's any more hope. This is a sinful world, Miss Fishpool. Now, I've lost my wife an' my brother, an' the Californians is so wicked an' so worldly minded, they hain't no 'preciation of phrenology; I don't see's I've got nothin' left to live fur," says Mr. Brunck, "they don't give no encouragement to science in this country. One evenin' I advertised to lectur on phrenology, in Pratt's Hall, on Mount Gumnery street, and I delivered one of my best lecturs, commencing with phrenology, and craniology, and encephaliscopy--much about what I said to you, Miss Fishpool, that day of our first meetin' at Bennet's, except 'twas more fixed up like, more erubite as it ware, and besides all that, I has treated the quality of the orgin of inhabitivness, or love of country by a goats I saw, hanging right over the edge of a prisapice, on one of them ar seven hills of San Francisco, and the little goat jist had a hold on the rocks by his hind feet, an' thinks I to myself, for I'm fond of observations, 'what's to become of the little goat?' Just then, he wheels around with his fore feet, and he catches on to the rocks agin, an' he's safe. And don't you think, right in the midst of this splendid lustration of inhabitiveness, they began wus'n a pack ov hounds let loose, to stamp, and to kick, and to hiss; so it became onpossible for me to percede. Arter that I went up to see you, an' I made up my mind to leave San Francisco, afore an earthquake swallowed it up, for its wickedness. Miss Fishpool, you've been a widder some time now, and you had oughter feel for one in my sitivation."

"I doos indeed, I doos feel to symperfyse for you, Mr. Brunck. I know it's kind a lonesome livin' alone, an' now, Briah's dead and gone, an' you can't find his effex, it's wus'n ever."

"Phrenology, Miss Fishpool, as I was about to 'splain, teaches that marriage is necessary for the welfare of man and woman."

"I do wonder! go on, Mr. Brunck, it is so consolin' to my feelins to hear you talk; it's like pourin' oil upon soar wounds. Go on, I say."

"You don't know what a blessin' it is, Miss Fishpool, to meet wi' a congenial sperret like your'n. I'm so glad to see you hain't sot agin matrimony. Your case an' mine is similar like. You hain't no one to take care of you an' your property, an' I hain't nobody nor no property to take care of. So sposin' we jine hans an' says nothin' to nobody but the preacher!"

"La sakes! Mr. Brunck, you hain't in airnest, shorely?"

"Yes, I be in airnest--dead airnest. What do ye say to sendin' for the preacher?"

"La sakes, Mr. Brunck, sendin' for the preacher! You take the breath outen me."

"Yes, Miss Fishpool, 'crastination is dangerous. 'Crastination is the thief of time."

"Well, if you think thar's any danger, send for him to come to-morrow evenin'."

"That's sensible; I know'd you was a oncommon sensible woman the day I examined your head."

"Fly around, Tabithy! fly around!" exclaims Mrs. Fishpool, flying into the kitchen and upsetting a tub of slop Tabitha was in the act of removing. "Fly around, move yerself, an' break up some eggs, an' bake some cake. No, I'll do that; you go over an' tell Miss Nivins to come over here right off."

Tabitha did as she was directed, wondering if her mistress was "a gwine to fling herself away on that travlin' furriner, with a skull of a dead man in his carpet sack, and a lot picturs and trash--nothin' but picturs of skulls no ways. Uph! Soon marry a grave-digger at wunct."

"Miss Nivins," says Tabitha, "the mistiss sent me over here to tell you to cum over thar right away."

"What's your hurry, Tabitha, is you an' John goin' to git married at last!"

"Me an' John! good lack a day; no'm, tain't me an' John, nuther."

"Tain't you an' John? Well, is it anybody?"

"Don't know, 'm; all I know is, I was a liftin' of a tub of slops outen the kitchin a bit ago, an' the mistiss she cums a flyin', an' she flys up to me, a upsottin' the slops, bottom up'ards, an' she wouldn't scacely gimme no time to change my dress, as was drippin' wet: but, says she to me, says she, 'Fly aroun', Tabitha, fly aroun', an' beat up some eggs to make some cake; an' then agin, she she to me, she she, 'Tabitha, I'll do that; you go right off an' tell Miss Nivins to cum right over here, an' nowhars else,' she she."

"Mussy to spare us! who's she 'bout to marry, Tabithy?"

"Thar's ben a travlin' furriner 'bout thar, huntin' up his brother effex--Briah Brunck's brother, it is."

"Mussy me! gimme down my bonnet this minnit,' said Mrs. Nivins.

"I wish you much joy!" exclaims this lady, shaking Mrs. Fishpool by the hand. "Tabithy tells me you're gwine to hev a weddin'."

"Tabithy, who told you to tell any sich a thing?"

"Nobody, mum, septen I thought from the way you was a flyin' aroun', an' the way Mr. Brunck's ben a notissin' things that thar must be somethin' nuther oncommon 'bout to take place, an' furthermore, I dreamed last night of a death, an' that's a shore sign of weddin'."

"Well, well! thar hain't no time to be lost; fly roun', Tabithy, break up the eggs; I'm so flurried I can't count 'em, to save me."

Suffice it to say, the cake was baked, all in due time, and a dozen of the neighbors invited to witness the nuptials. The bride was dressed in what she called 'swizz-muzilin,' and the groom in black cloth. The occasion seemed a happy one to all parties, especially to the parties most concerned. There was, however, rather an inexplicable expression upon the minister's face: "Happiness, they say, was born a twin," and "Misery, it is well known, loves company," so he could not rest under his conflicting emotions until he took aside the gentleman to whom I am indebted for this story, and told him how the bridegroom, in the exuberance of his new-born felicity, had taken him out and said, "This is a good job you've done for me, an' you done it well; you shill be well paid; thar--take your change outen that"--and he handed me three dimes and a half-dime. I hear that Miss Sally Van Voorhies is still a belle, and Dr. Bugly remains a bachelor--or a mystery, as the interesting metaphor with which he mystified certain ladies has never been explained. Miss Carrie Van Voorhies is now happily married to a Mr. Walker, and they say she and Mr. Bennet do rally Miss Sally mercilessly upon a certain subject, often asking her if she is "matrimoniously inclined."

{centered} CHAPTER XIV. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} GOSSIP ON THE HIGH SEAS. {centered, poem stanzas} "The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death." {rigth justified} SHAKSPEARE.

Soon after leaving Mayaguana, another nine-days' wonder attracted the gaze of the little peripatetic marine village under one roof, 'yclept Costa Rica. The second-class dwellers were especially exercised thereby, rumors flying like witches on broomsticks through the enchanted air. And the innocent cause of all this commotion, was a babe possibly a year old. A perfect little monument of patience was he, as he lay upon the lap of his young mother, than whom he was relatively much the larger person.

The mother was a pretty, plump, youthful-looking creature--a marvel of devotion to her child; and the group of which she was the centre, might have been seen as unvarying in the same position, in front of the same state room, as though it had been chiseled in marble. To one side sat a lady friend, on the other her brother, the devoted lover of the little widow whose babe was the unconscious cause of all this excitement. The surgeon ex-officio, as well as the three experienced ex-ship-captains, might have been observed frequently stopping to examine the pustules on the countenance of the boy, and to prescribe, or console the mother. Captain Knox said in my hearing that it was a class of eruptions common to the sea, and might have been expected in just such a great fat boy of a subject. The surgeon, likewise, spoke lightly of it. The more that was said, however, to dissipate the impression that it was small-pox, the more obstinately confirmed were certain parties in the opinion that the jury who pronounced upon the case, were parties especially opposed to Quarantine, and therefore interested in creating a false impression. There seemed no help for the contagion, however, as the mother and the lover sat quietly applying cloths, dipped in oil or water, to the face of the poor patient sufferer, unconscious, probably, of the volcanic eruption, (in the minds of certain parties), resulting from the cutaneous eruption they were dressing. There is also farther cause for excitement: we are approaching Hatteras, and many are the tales of shipwreck upon this unfriendly coast that go round and round, affording as much entertainment, if not as much amusement, as children's holiday sports upon the green. "Some people will be very much disappointed if we fail to have a storm off Hatteras," said Mr. Fay to me at table. "I have passed this place seven times, and never seen so rough a sea as we had in the Caribbean yet; though I know there is foundation for the sailor's rhyme: {centered, poem stanzas}

'When Bermuda you pass, Then look out for Hatteras.'"

Captain Knox tells Mr. Marshall, shortly after breakfast, that we are in the Gulf-stream. "See the waters standing up on either side like a wall," I heard him say. I arose at once to observe the phenomenon, and imagined I beheld the watery embankment, whether I did or not.

Washington the Second is still perambulating the deck with his battery. "Try it, gentlemen, it is exhilarating but not intoxicating: ladies gratis, gentlemen half price," he cries; and the song seems as fresh, and the bits of silver jingle into his purse as freely as in the beginning. There is altogether so much method in this man's madness, that some are of the opinion that it is feigned; I cannot believe it, since his habits and manners indicate careful training at some period of his life, and no baby's face, with one ray of intellect, was ever so perfect a blank.

"Washington has missed it," says Mr. McMurtry, "in leaving the free-hearted Californians, where a dime is nothing accounted, to try his battery and his fortune among the penny-loving hordes of Gotham. He'll find that he cannot drop into any restaurant that strikes his fancy, from Delmonico's down, and have whatever he may call for gratis, as has been his custom, as well as that of his compeer emperor, Norton, in San Francisco. Nor can he cross the ferry whenever it pleases his fancy, with nothing to pay. Washington is a self-appointed envoy to the Grand Mogul of Humbuggery, who holds his court in the metropolis. But whether his highness will regard the 'Second Father of his Country,' in his spotless Continental costume, as the rara avis he considers himself, is problematical."

Mrs. Edinger expresses the opinion that "when a passiger hain't got their full 'lowance of plunder, and has paid full fare," that the deficit should be returned. "Then," says she, "I mign't spy the place of that castor; if I jist had a nipped it unbeknown's to Edinger, 'twould all a come out right in the end arter all."

Mrs. McMurtry is as pale, and as sea-sick, but as beautiful as ever. Opposite her door they have placed the lounge upon which lies a man with the frame of a giant, but so wan and wasted that he has not the strength to raise himself from his couch of suffering. May those who think that consumptives suffer little, never see what I have seen; and may those who rail at human nature, be one day literally tortured with the mistaken, but well-meant kindness, that was deluged upon the poor invalids of the Costa Rica. My Irish lady, vis a vis, who often came in to beg me for a breath of air, came to me about this time in a state of great perturbation of mind.

"They tell me," says she, "that that poor boy up there by Mrs. McMurtry's door, has not had a crumb of dinner, not a drop of any thing to moisten his lips: here's my cup of coffee-you take it to him-I cannot leave my baby."

"I'll go up and see, and if there is need, I'll come back for it," I replied. I inquired of Mrs. McMurtry if his wants had been supplied.

"There have been at least half a dozen women hovering over him, with tottering cups of something, and heaping plates of something else, until he only needs rest from his tormentors."

I sat awhile talking with my friends-here comes another woman with a cup and plate, from which he turns away nauseated; in another direction some one else is coming. It is my Irish neighbor. The invalid attempts to decline, politely; but she seems on the point of holding his nose, and pouring her own cup of coffee down his throat, nolens volens. Poor Mrs. McMurtry! Now, the sight of spittoons, and the cloths, and the pitiful looks of the poor, helpless creature, added to her distresses; but she murmured not a word. "Some one must endure it," she says. I must now tell you about the tent on deck, conjuring you, however, not to imagine for a moment that I have entered the lists against the great Artemus--as Brooks suggested on the Isthmus. Not by any means, though as we have had a smooth sea and a smiling sky all the way, the marine nomads have had the most agreeable apartments on board. The patriarch of this interesting family is an Englishman, from Van Couver's Island. There are three ladies, the wife, an adopted daughter, and a lady traveling in company; and a story is going the rounds, though I know not with whom it originated, that a brother Englishman--now on a visit to the great little Island-wrote the patriarch to sell his property, which was quite valuable, and bring his wife and the money to him. But the narrative is not finished; he has already appropriated the money, they say, and proposes eloping with both his treasures in time. But what gossip cannot one hear on ship-board. And how much of genuine love of malice for the sake of malice, there seems to be in the nature of beings whose praises I was but a moment ago sounding. What a strange intermingling of good and evil in all of us! Cain, doubtless, heard Adam praising his brother before his envy rose to such a pitch that he slew him, and L. E. L. says that Job should have heard his friends talking of, rather than to him.

"Our speed is lessening; she has stopped altogether, and that in mid-ocean; possibly it is to bury a passenger," says Mr. Kane.

"No, they are but sounding; the water is shoal. Our captain is master of the situation."

Long live the Teutonic Captain Tinkapoo! and those who were, but yesterday, going right away to call upon Vanderbilt and his forty millions, for redress of grievances, are almost ready to praise the bridge which has brought them over safely, though they spent sleepless nights, many of them, and days hungry, and crowded upon it.

"Have Mrs. Callahan and Mrs. Dougherty settled their controversy?" inquires Mr. Higgins of Mr. Fay.

"The trunk has been found and the check delivered to Mrs. Callahan," was the reply.

"That Mrs. Callahan is a character! I am told she drove the lady who roomed with her out of the room entirely, and kept it all to herself. It was your sister, I think," continued Mr. Higgins, turning to me.

"Yes," I replied; "and the persons with whom my brother-in-law effected an exchange, by going himself into the cabin, on the Sacramento, watched her as though they imagined she had escaped from San Quentin. Pleasant, verily."

"We shall be in New-York, Wednesday, June 7th, at half-past two, P.M.," says Mr. McMurtry. "Our captain tells us he could have made it inside of nineteen days; but that it was cheaper to feed the passengers than to coal the vessel for such speed.

{smaller font} {centered, poem style}

'Ah, 'tis a pleasure that none can tell, To feel you're the wild wave's master.'

Come and help us eat this pine-apple," remarks Mr. McMurtry to me; "and when we have done, you shall tell us of your Beatrice. I do hope we will meet this summer at some watering-place, or if you come to Philadelphia, be sure to inquire for us, at the Continental."

"And you, when you come to New-York, you can, by crossing the Fulton Ferry, and taking the Fulton Avenue cars, find me at No. 232, - Avenue, Brooklyn."

"Well, tell us the story. I shall assuredly hunt you {centered} CHAPTER XV {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} BEATRICE.

WHEN I was a child, there came a little new baby-sister to our house. I remember well, how our fond father looked, and how his eyes sparkled as he turned down the little soft, new blanket, bound with blue ribbon, disclosing the little mystery beneath. Her eyes were deeply, darkly, beautifully blue, and yet my mother, who had blue eyes of her own, and theories as well, contended that they would in time become black like our father's. Our visitors laughed at her, saying "Who but you, Mrs. Morgelion, would have them otherwise? They are the most lovely violet eyes I ever looked upon." Time, which proves all things by his slow, sure alchemy, left the eyes unchanged, save in that intellectual fire and moral radiance born of refinement and culture. Then came a sad period in our history, when we no longer had a father to look up to; and children who have had such a father, feel that they are doubly orphaned. But he who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb did not forget us. And in our little family history a veiled mystery was gradually unfolded. We had often marveled that the talents of a man united to the tenderness of a woman, should have been given our mother; but now we saw it all. She had need of them. She was father and mother both.

At length little Beatrice grew up to be a rare combination of spirituality, esprit, and if not positive beauty, i.e., the beauty which every one is bound to recognize, and which is rarely, if ever seen, she became to those who ventured within the charmed circle of her full fascinations a little human angel, already half divine. Men rail at women and laugh at women for love of dress, and yet how incomplete and unsatisfying is the woman devoid of taste!

When I was a young lady, my father brought me the daintiest and the most tasteful robes the Eastern markets afforded. And one by one they were thrown aside as the fashion changed, or some new caprice came over me. And in the attic there was a vast repertory of such treasures. So, when Beatrice was budding into womanhood, she crept away, and locking herself in her room, was known to be engaged in some mysterious intercourse with thimble, thread, and scissors. And when she came forth in the old familiar dresses remodeled, with a new trimming here, and a bright border there, and with tiny slippers, and ornaments to match, all the work of her own fairy-fingers, our mother smiled, saying, "She was always a sweet, ingenious thing; see what those willing hands have done!" And another day our mother came forth, smiling, in a new dress of Foulard silk. "Behold," said she, "what that little thing, my baby-daughter, has done for me!" And lovers came to our house--came wooing our Beatrice. There was one, almost a boy he seemed, and we knew not what they said, until he asked our mother to give him Beatrice.

"She is but a frail lily with a delicate stem; she may not last a year," the mother replied.

"I know it," Bernardo answered; "and if she but lives three days I shall be blessed can I but call her mine."

"You are both so young, and she needs her mother's care, her sister's nursing. We cannot give her up; she may not bear transplanting to another soil."

"I will care for her tenderly. I know I am young and poor, but I have not wasted my time. I have a good profession, and with Beatrice for my bride, we shall not lack for friends." And when the pale light of July's soft moonbeams were kissing the verdant hills, we decked her in snowy robes, with a wreath of orange blossoms upon her brow.

How lovely she looked with her violet eyes, her pure complexion, and her brown hair beneath her bridal veil. She was like no other bride; she was only like her own sweet self. From her deep blue eyes, shaded by their long dark fringes, to her faultless hands and feet--even in her words and actions there was an individuality as decided as it was charming. We would not have exchanged it for the beauty of Helen or the grace of Juno. Though we cannot write of her as Dante wrote of his Beatrice, her image will ever be to us as the sweetest poetry--God's poetry--a volume lent us for a little while to read and study, and then resign it to its Author. May we profit by the sweet lesson!

Though so superior in beauty and accomplishments, we did not love her so much for these as for her unselfish, gentle disposition and her loving heart. But fair as she was, and dear as she was, consumption came, and with his beautiful though fearful painting, touched her cheek.

Even when we kissed her, and gave her at the altar to the love of her youth, we turned away to hide the tears which flowed unbidden. There was ever a mystic tie of sympathy between us two--the eldest and the youngest sister. And it grieves me now that I did sometimes check her joyous, girlish laughter--more musical than notes of wild-wood birds on summer mornings, when holding their matin revels in the branches of the trees around Glenarny; while she, as I remember, gave me nothing but smiles in my hours of joy, and tears of sympathy in my moments of sadness.

But though bright the sunbeams, when they came moving over the hills in spring time, and beautiful as a blue cloud with a silvery border; though caressed and admired by the world--the house of God, and not the gay, festal hall of mirth, was her constant resort. And it was marvelous to see so much of the resolute Christian woman in the fairy-like girl, who was a babe but yesterday, as it seemed. How often has she taken me, her eldest sister, by the hand and led me there--especially to Sunday-school and prayer-meetings! And then how like the little lily of the valley she looked, as she sat close beside me, answering, with her mild blue eyes, her expressive blue eyes, the words of the Man of God. It was July when we gave her away. No, we gave her not away: she but gave us a brother; and when the roses of May again were budding, she came back to us. How sweet it was to have our lamb, our pet, as she called herself, with us once more; but oh! how sad to see her fading, day by day!

And when her strength had so far failed her that she could not walk, she chiefly regretted it because she could not go with her husband to the house of God.

But the fatal flush upon her cheek was not more deceiving than the roseate view she had of her condition. She never seemed to think of dying--all we could do was to watch her wasting beauty, and pray that ere the end came she would give us the only assurance that had power to comfort us. God, in his infinite goodness, answered our prayer. And on Saturday, at twilight, she spoke to us in tones as clear and as steady, and as musical as those of a silver bell, saying, she cared not to give up the things of the world; it was only her husband and her family circle she could not leave. A week previous she had said, in answer to my anxious looks, "Sister, our minister says as God has given me living, so when I come to die, he will bless me with dying grace." She now repeated it, and with child-like faith and simplicity she added, "He told me God would give me dying grace, and he has. He said I would meet my father, and I shall." There came over her the memory of her childhood, and with it a bright realization of our loving father's presence--he who died ten years before; and then it seemed as if she could give us up more willingly; so gently did her Saviour lead her to him. We had also a little infant sister, but four days old, of whom our father did not speak for years but he would turn and brush away a tear, and Beatrice said, "I remember, when a little child, of walking in the woods around Val Verde with my father, and how he told me, when we heard the turtle-dove cooing in the trees, that it was the voice of little sister calling me to the skies." And then she spoke of our young and gifted brother, who, two years before, paused and rested his head beneath the friendly sod of a foreign soil. And calling each of us by name, she bade us meet her in heaven. To her husband she said, "I know there is divine reality in religion, and you must seek it to your life's end. I could not die so happily if I did not think I should meet you in heaven." Then to poor, unworthy me, she said, "Sister, I know I shall meet you there." And never but once did I so feel the load of sin and guilt that rested upon me as now. Never did I so appreciate the goodness of God, that he had so gifted me, even gifted me with an appreciation of the merits of the atonement. So impressively she continued, "I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. I know I have been a great sinner; but whenever I have done anything wrong, I have always asked God to forgive me, and he says, 'Ask, believing ye shall receive, and it shall be given to you.'"

To our mother she turned, saying, "Mother they are crying about me. I do not feel like crying: death has no terrors for me. Do not wear any mourning whatever for me. I shall be happier than thou. If I die to-night, I meet our loved ones where they need no candle, neither light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light."

Touching as was her love for her husband, it was not more so than her affection for Rowena--Rowena the betrothed of Ivanhoe. All her tasteful little handiwork was for her. "Rowena," said she, "has long been striving to be a Christian; she must never give up." Then turning to her aged, faithful nurse, she said, "I shall meet your daughter there, too." Of her minister she often spoke as such a holy man, saying, "he has led me so sweetly and so gently to repose in my Saviour's bosom." Often, in after hours, when I would think it over, the memory of this Christian man would admonish me; for so humble was his education, that when the war came, (and our regular minister was banished, or threatened with banishment, because he preached not Cæsar's gospel), and he ascended our pulpit, we hoped in our little village church that there would no strangers come; but the light from the city in which they need no candle, neither light of the sun, had so illumined his heart that we forgot his syntax altogether. And so godly was his daily walk and conversation--so constantly did he seek out the little children in faith and hope as he met them in the highways--for God had gifted him with that taste and discrimination which offends not even the ungodly--that we learned to prize him as a jewel above purchase. But the Atlantic now rolls between us, and we hope, that in the land of Wesley, Whitefield and Bunyan, he is continuing their work.

And so on Sabbath morn, just as dawn was breaking, fitting time for such an angel to join the heavenly throng, she left us. Again we arrayed her in bridal robes; this time we bedecked her brow and bosom with lilies of the valley. How sweetly she looked, reposing so calmly--almost smiling, beneath the folds of her bridal veil within the casket, in which she lady down to her slumbers. Nor did the little narrow death-chamber look gloomy. We felt like embracing it; we talked of it to one another. And Bernardo said: "Had she come as a bright angel and laid all the treasures of earth at our feet, they would have have been nothing to these sweet assurances."

Then there was a funeral procession--a funeral procession from our house. And when they sang-- {smaller,song lines, every other line indented}

"Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide-- He gave thee,He took thee, and He will restore thee, And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died"--

Her own canaries on the veranda joined in the requiem. And we visited oft the new-made mound. Brooks, Richmond and I went frequently to see "little mother;" and though three years have passed, the children's tears will flow afresh if mention of her name is made--and such have not long memories for sorrow.

One day in May, as Brooks and I were driving leisurely behind our gentle Fleetfoot, we overtook Bernardo. He was wending his way, as we, to the churchyard. So he took the reins, and we three were soon mingling our tears over the sod. Then we walked about among the other graves; there was one marked by a stone of white marble--upon it there was a simple scroll, bearing the name, unfolded; and over the scroll a dove was mourning its dead mate; and the soul of the artist was mirrored in this picture of grief. Then we talked of a tablet for Beatrice. The day was a bright one, and the flowers she had trained were smiling in their beauty when we reached home. But watching and grieving had wasted my strength, and I lay me down to rest a while. I know not how long I had been sleeping when I seemed to see an object in the distant sky. We were sitting in the back veranda, which Bernardo had once latticed to please her--vines her hands had trained were clustering round it. This object, which seemed to strike us all as something more than earthly, came nearer. But the little boys--true boys--Richmond and Brooks--ran for their guns, but they paused, enchanted--resting upon their infantile arms. Nearer, and still nearer it came. I was standing, so it appeared, near the veranda's door-way. And as it approached us I beheld a glorious cloudlet of golden light and beauty, from which a dove with plumage bathed in dyes celestial emerged, to enfold me in its heavenly pinions. And a sweet familiar angel voice, the same, and yet with the seraphim's notes, whispered, "I came to bless you, that you love Bernardo." Our mother then seemed to clasp me, as though she thought they were claiming another of her children, and I awoke. But the trance was so real I trembled for an hour, and the golden glory of the cloud and dove I afterwards saw many times as I lay on my pillow.

May has come again, and when we visit the grave of Beatrice, violet eyes do smile upon us. But they are springing o'er her fair and unpolluted flesh. And still the incense of her good deeds is rising to heaven, for Bernardo has taken holy orders, and Brooks and Richmond can never forget the sweet example of "little mother." {poem lines again, small font, first, third and fourth lines flush, second and fifth are indented on each stanza}

"A wonderful stream is the river Time, As it runs through the realms of tears, With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme, A broader sweep and a surge sublime, And blends with the ocean of years.

"There's a magic isle up the river Time, Where the softest of airs are playing; There's a cloudless sky, and a tropical clime, And a song as sweet as a vesper chime; And the Junes with the roses are staying.

"And the name of this isle is Long Ago, And we bury our treasures there; There are brows of beauty, and bosoms of snow; There are heaps of dust, but we love them so! There are trinkets and tresses of hair.

"There are fragments of song that nobody sings, And part of an infant's prayer; There's a lute unswept and a harp without strings, There are broken vows and pieces of rings, And the garments she used to wear.

"There are hands that are waived when the fairy shore By the mirage is lifted in air; And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar, Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before, When the wind down the river is fair.

"Oh! remembered for aye, be the blessed isle, All the day of life, till night! And when evening comes, with its beautiful smile, And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile, May that 'Greenwood' of soul be in sight."

{right justified} B.F. TAYLOR. {CENTERED} CHAPTER XVI. {CENTERED, SMALL CAPS} THE HAVEN AT LAST IN VIEW.

THE seventh sun, in the peaceful month upon the sea, the leafy month upon the land, has risen in all the majesty of his unclouded splendor to find us in mid-ocean, apparently, but with high hopes of reaching the haven ere he sinks to his royal repose. The ladies appear once more in regular traveling--attire, and there is a hurrying to and fro, a strapping of valises, an up-lifting and down-shutting of parasols, quite unnecessary, together with murmured regrets at parting with ocean friends, a wish to know what moves have been made of the kings and bishops on the great chess-board. A hope that in the changing scenes we shall meet again. Thus I heard two conversing:

"Langlais, when you are in Paris, London, Rome, St. Petersburg, Constantinople, Venice, Jerusalem, any where in fact, and see anything you would like to have if you were back in San Francisco, or that you imagine would suit my taste--wines, paintings, any article of vertu in short--send them at once to me, and draw upon me. Will you? Remember, old fellow."

"Assuredly I will," replies Monsieur.

"Make a note of it," says Mr. Kane.

Monsieur did as directed, then spying me he exclaims, "I regret to part with you, madame! You would enjoy Paris--come to Paris, some day, will you not? In New-York you hear money, money, all time money--but in Paris you hear not'ing but plasir, all time plasir. But, madame, I t'ink it is not best to have too much of eider."

"Give me your address," says Mr. La Rue. "we shall be in New-York, now and then, and will visit you in Brooklyn."

"You will come back to California," says Mrs. Reese. "Will you not?"

We are all mantled and bonneted, and standing on deck and guards, watching the sea-grit shore of New Jersey: parties are appointing meetings at some rendezvous in New-York, where they can be photographed in a group. "Verily old soldiers and people who have seen hard times together love one another," as an old Virginian once concluded a message of love to my mother. At length, an officer, bearing insignia of rank, is seen coming towards us in a little boat. It is the Quarantine Physician.--All is well, and the apprehensions of the dual classification have been alleviated at last.

"To what hotel do you go, Mrs. McMurtry?"

"Fifth Avenue. And you?" she inquires.

"I go to the home of my kindred; the loving embrace of my mother's sister; under the roof of an Arny I rest to-night."

"How pleasant! but to-morrow night I hope to be with my three brothers at the Continental."

"If I come to Philadelphia, as I think I shall with Lilian, who goes to visit Roland Grattan's mother, we will again have pleasant times together."

"Indeed we will do our part toward making it joyous for you," chimes in Mr. McMurtry.

"Fifth Avenue! Avenue! St. Nicholas! Astor! Girard! Metropolitan! Merchants'! Clarendon!" The cries deafen us. We pass each other in carriages, bow and smile, then see no more of one another for the present, probably forever. Each is now absorbed for the time in his own little world of pleasure--pleasures he may not value, as they are in possession, but let him be deprived of them if he would know their worth.

After twenty-one days at sea in the months of May and June, in the year of grace 1865, one gazes about as a countryman, a novice in sign literature, for some type of the times. What is this we behold adorning a palace of art opposite the Astor? A female figure. Is it the proud Zenobia, borne in chains to the capital of Aurelian? and will she be treated in this enlightened age as was Palmyra's queen? convicted by defeat, of the crime of treason, Anno Domini 272; id est, presented with a villa, twenty miles from the capital, where the Syrian empress sank insensibly into the Roman matron; her daughters married into noble families; and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century: or will she be strangled in prison, as has been the custom of Romans anterior to the Christian era, and later? No, I think it may be the man of destiny disguised. If not, then he it is who could afford while fighting a nation, with the world for a rear-guard, and the traditions of a time more than Utopian, to cherish favorites, and who may now be suffering for his impious belief, that the creature of man's creation is greater than the great Creator who can alone make men--men who can sit unmoved amid the deafening thunder, the leaden hail, and the fire and brimstone pouring from the vials of the angel's wrath; planning and executing, advancing or retreating, with the subtlety of naught, save God-given genius, the movements of the enemy, as calm judgement, or sober-clad prudence may dictate. Men who can lead men, by the logic of love and heroism, to face Lucifer himself incarnate. And grander still, men who can so conquer their own spirit as to stand unmoved, beholding themselves and the people they represent trampled in the dust of humiliation--the men who look to them for their firesides--their wives, their children, suffering, not pen nor tongue can tell what untold miseries. Men who, amid counter temptations, brilliant as gold can make them, are still to be seen, where the death-angel is reaping his richest harvest. And all because submission to constituted authority is the chief of patriotic and soldierly virtues.

And if his latest biographer speaks truly, he is still, in spirit, persecuting some of them--from his prison--pursuing them in their exile. Yes, this man it is--this man, who has in more instances than one, thus treated his ablest generals--and my people are to-day the sufferers. But {smaller text, centered}

"To err, is human; to forgive, divine."

And if he can forgive him--he who placed our all in his trust--may not those who hold him enchained in the nation's stronghold, where the rolling Chesapeake pours the waters which wash Mount Vernon's shore into the lap of the Atlantic?

{poem line,small font}

"But yesterday he might have stood against the world."******

We have crossed the ferry, and we did not know it. Familiar faces are smiling upon us--dear, old familiar arms about our necks: blood is very near. We steal away at length, to look upon the city. Surely but for the census this were Valambroso, for leaves are "thick as leaves in Valambroso," and one might almost expect to hear the tinkling cow-bell--and this in the midst of a city of half a million inhabitants. Beneath our window Cupid is playing with Pisces, and Neptune is throwing his sparkling jewels over the grass, green and soft as velvet of Genoa. In the course of a few weeks we see the faces of lang-syne, by the dozen, and we form parties of pleasure for fashionable haunts. But how changed is every thing--especially the creatures of our kind! Ladies stand in the cars, and ride for miles, while men, and even boys, lounge in unconscious ease upon the cushions. Oh, ye gallants of California, and of the South, and the West, what would ye say to this? The knotty problem was too much for my poor brain, so I sat revolving it. And light broke in upon my senses. We are in the land of "women's rights." And these are they who have unsexed themselves, who have banished courtesy, and brought their sisters into disrepute. One day in shopping, I heard a man scolding a woman severely, using the strongest terms for his purpose, and all because she declined to purchase a black silk dress at which she had been looking. I said nothing, though I made up my mind at some time to try that clerk and see if he would address me in that style.

And so upon a rainy day, by accident I found myself confronting him. I was tempted to make an effort to try his patience; but for some reason or other my story ends--he treated me to the last, politely. Returning home in the cars, I find upon inspection that my purse contains a ten dollar and a five-cent bill, no more. I offer the latter to the conductor; he askes me for the odd penny, and changes the former for it. I mind me of Californians who said over the counter of ten times the sum--n'importe--How queer it is in Valabrosa!

I think it is not good to live in a wilderness of humanity, especially a wilderness of woman kind, as is my Valambrosa. Until this period, I declare unto you I never dreamed I could come to be regarded as a nuisance. Nobody thought of looking at me any more than at the lamp post. Although our carriage-horses, as they pranced along the leafy streets, bearing us to Central Park, Greenwood, Bath, Cony Island, etc., with such airs and graces as would have caused them to be suspected of a consciousness of beauty had they been of our sex and race, attracted glances of compliment or inquiry, such as I flatter myself were those bestowed upon me as I swept along the famed Montgomery in the city which sits beside the soft sea.

In these jaunts I remarked another contrast comparatively insignificant, it is true, but worthy, for some reasons, of mention: viz., I noticed that for ferriage or toll at the gates, only one, or two, or three pence were demanded, while I remembered many times taking a silver coin worth fifty times as much, from a purse handed me by my Bohemian friend in such emergencies, and bestowing it upon the keeper.

For the scenes to which these respective sums gave you admittance, you were in the one case more in debt to nature, and in the other to art: the relative merits of which contestants for admiration have never been satisfactorily settled in the debating societies. Nor do I know that the Supreme Court would arrive at a decision in the present day without taking into consideration matters of policy--party, or personal. But we have digressed. One does in these rides, realize very much for very little. And there is much, very much, to admire in the people, if they are to be judged by their works. And yet I am thinking that it is not best to live in a wilderness of human vegetation. You come to regard creatures of your kind as nothing more than walking forest trees, and to look at every thing through the medium of profit and loss. You lose sympathy with objects around you--such sympathy as is latent in your nature, is held for creatures at a distance. And your own menials of Fifth Avenue (I have the story from a lady who lives in that brown-stone Elysium), half fed--that the mistress may dress the finer, are overlooked, in view of imaginary wrongs perpetrated by imaginary barbarians, at a distance from you.

One fine evening I concluded to go at once with Brooks to Barnum's Museum, a few days before the fire, as it turned out. How little changed was every thing since I walked with my father through these halls! and I was then to him as was Brooks to his mother now. While we were looking at the poor little seal, and comparing him to the Great Beast, Ben Butler, of Cliff House notoriety--poor little drowned mouse, as he seemed--we beheld a watch and chain advancing, with hand extended to greet us, not by reminding us of the fast-fleeting moments--but to express pleasure at the unexpected meeting. And with the knight of the chain, there was a face and form familiar, but so bedressed I could not place it for a time. It was a person, on the steamer very shabbily dressed, with a grease-spot in the back of a linen coat, and who awaked associations not pleasant, from the fact that I had one day requested him to vacate my steamer-chair, before observing that he was an old man. Trifling as was the incident, I had not forgotten it, it placed me in such a dilemma. I could not say, "excuse me; I had not forgotten your grey hairs," and so I had to let it pass.

Evidently he had forgotten it, for he seemed rejoiced to meet me, informing me that he regretted I had left the land of handsome bachelors, as there was little chance to marry here. Of course I had a little laugh in my sleeve--knowing that most people think half the women tied up by the gordian knot would rejoice to cut it asunder, and all those not so bound, long only for the silken fetters--as I listened to his story of his brother up town. And evidently from his changed appearance he was brother to somebody, sure enough. The illustration was quite sufficient for the theme. Apropos of the watch and chain, Mr. Rutherford, our mutual acquaintance, came to Gotham, and Southern fashion, he spent a night with us in Valambrosa; upon which occasion I said, "Mr. Rutherford, we had a passenger on our steamer homeward-bound, who claimed acquaintance with you--a Colonel Fisher, who served in the Florida war."

"I know him well; met him yesterday," was the reply. "He came to G---, when I lived there, and was employed as a runner for the steamboats. Remained there some time; invested his earnings in land; went back to Pennslyvania, and married a lady very much his superior, but with whom he lived most happily, until he returned to the West to look after his lands. In addition to the beauty and other graces of his wife, she was a charming musician, unfortunately, as it led her to intimate acquaintance with a woman whose house was much frequented by professional singers-persons, as a class, not remarkable for true refinement. There was one who called himself Arbaces-Alboni, or some such name, who sang with Madame Fisher during her husband's absence, until they concluded their voices were made for each other, though cruel fate had separated them. Destiny, however, they agreed in time to thwart, and when the Colonel returned it was to a deserted fireside. And the sight of the garments of a dear babe awoke in his heart such a thirst for revenge, that he has traveled fifteen years in Europe, South America, Australia, California, pursuing now and then some chance avocation, by which he might be led to meet musical characters, the trail of which he has never ceased to follow; but never has he been able to find either of the guilty parties. He had often heard of prima donna's who corresponded with his descriptions of his wife; but never, though he haunted such scenes with the feverish fire consuming his life, has he had any reliable trace of her. Poor fellow! he has thrown himself away, though he tells me he is going to Europe again."

"You surprise me beyond expression, Mr. Rutherford," said I. "I little thought there could be any romance in the history of such a coarse, gaudily bedecked man. If she was, indeed, a woman of refinement, I imagine she is dead long ago, or he would have heard of her, Mr. Rutherford." I then made mention of the watch and chain, as well as the donor.

"Fisher has done that firm many a service; he is a man of ample means, and very efficient in business," was the answer.

But the golden moments flew by, and not upon leaden pinions. August came, and we tried Congress water, as well as a view of Madame Shoddy and family. Miss Shoddy, eldest daughter of her house, was probably in the toilet designed by some court dressmaker, since its tastefullness was inimitable in some respects, though not at all appropriate. She is the centre of a cloud of lace, and her jewels--diamonds of the first water, are arranged by some sort of watch-work witchery, so that they revolve perpetually, rivaling the scintillant dew upon the lily, or the sunlight upon sea-foam. Straying one day through Congress Hall Park, I heard two Englishmen conversing en passant: "I assure you, Doctor," said the younger, "society is completely metamorphosed here since the war. How we miss the Southerners! What has become of all the good people any way? There is wonderful health in change, and I used to run down every now and then from Toronto, to look on at these places. It was worth while then. What a waste of substance this war has caused, and how the sediment is floating upon the surface! But great as has been the loss of so many successive cotton crops, and sugar, and the men, the expense of war, the detriment to society has been greater, in the way of loss to the nation. Augustus, did you observe those revolving diamonds on that young creature? Superb! were they not?"

"The Duchess of --- wore such a bracelet, but I did not expect to see its mate on such a parvenue," remarked the Doctor.

"He who was called Augustus laughed and replied, "That costume was, indeed, exquisite."

I watched the wearer with interest until I saw her take an immense pin out of her bosom and commence picking her teeth, and heard the loud, coarse tones of her voice as she addressed herself to her companion in the striped silk, which looked as though it had been designed for the upholsterer. The tastes imbibed in her Alma Mater, the hippodrome, cling to her.

"Are they circus people, really?" inquired the Doctor. "I hear that she who wears the striped silk has been trained in that school, but is now the wife of a rich contractor, and her friend in the diamonds is the daughter of one."

She compared Saratoga Lake with Tahoe, and it was no more than the Green Mountains to the Sieras. Several times we saw the fairy realms along the Hudson, and then we visited that scene of mirrored omnipotence in which the musical waters meet to sing their Maker's praises in the grandest of orations. And the cataract and the fearful whirlpool reminded us of the fall of souls into the maelstrom of sin along the stream of Time, upon the resistless current of which we are being borne to the ocean of Eternity. And the relics of a race with which we were but a year ago, to the day, mingling on the banks of the wild Humboldt, have a writing upon them. "Passing away"--all, all of us passing away: less than straws--if we look not to the Cross--upon the inexorable waves. And this brings to remembrance a letter we have had from Mr. Armat; a bright particular star in the party who started Pacific-ward in search of Hygeia. Four months of sea-air and a double-breasting of the storm around the Cape did not prove the specific hope promised, and he goes now to try the bracing zephyrs from Mother Superior and her sisters, on their most catholic and salubrious missions to the Father of Waters, in the land of Minehaha. Thence, he says, he will come to visit us, and talk over the incidents of the long journey through the wilderness, and at our house he hopes to meet Miss De Laureal. And we smiled, saying, how natural, how characteristic, his strict Virginian adherence to titles upon all occasions. This lady has been for some time on a visit to the mother of her loved, lost Roland, amid scenes endeared by association with the poetry of her life. "Willie," she writes us, "is now a wealthy and prosperous merchant, still unmarried; and May, who is the wife of a Western planter with entailed estates, has a little Roland, the pet of his household. They are very loving to each other, often speaking of 'the dead--though dead, so dear!'

September has come, and the elements are bearing us homeward; in the doorway I behold my mother. In all the wide world who is there like unto a mother?--in all the wide world there is but one mother--and that is yours. And by her side I have a glimpse of her grandson with the black eyes and the talents of his father, who had only need to have been trained in the wholesome school of poverty to have been the impersonation of a woman's ideal. But this boy, so like him, has been a perpetual well-spring of happiness to his mother. A moment more and I am enfolded in the embrace of the two. How sweet is home, but how changed! Who is this Ethiopian talerdernalion--in the place of servants who have been in the family five generations, and who by their dress could scarcely be distinguished, mistress from maid? Poor, passive sons and daughters of Ham and Japhet, what have ye not suffered at the hands of the furious children of Shem in this New World, from its discovery to the present day! What are ye not suffering now, in rags and hunger, but with that blessed boon of which ye know not the use! I hear that the ubiquitous bureau has of late been engaged in tying the knot of Hymen afresh among them in our little village. And in passing along the streets I chance to hear an Ethiopian divine inquiring of a brother, "Who married Jim and Cloe?"

"Dat 'ar white man, dat 'ar bureau man, he tuck an' dun it, and he charged 'em five dollars fur it, an' it was de poores suramony you eber heard tell ob--yah! yah! I could a done it better'n dat myself, an' I ain't no preacher, fore de Lord I hain't nuther."

"Good for 'em," replies his reverence. "I wouldn't charged 'em de half ob dat, an' it would a been done up 'cordin' to de ortordox, too."

A little later in the season and our mother's sister, wife of Glenarny's chieftain, comes from the far South to join us, and in December Clyde sails in safety over the soft ocean and the stormy seas, and once more-- {smaller text, poem, first line right just}

"We are all here! Even they, the dead--though dead, so dear, Fond memory to her duty true, Brings back their faded forms to view."

A golden circlet upon Rowena's finger recalls Ivanhoe--Ivanhoe with the blood of the Dandridges and Fairfaxes, the eloquence of the Tully, and the chivalry of the Bayard, who said in all the land there is none so fair as Rowena, the niece of Arny. Already his name has been mentioned for the highest posts of honor, and he has said to mother, "Whether my lot be high or lowly, give me Rowena, that her sweet smile may be my solace." And then he offered himself, just when life was dearest, a sacrifice upon the altar of his motherland. Now he lies beneath the cypress trees where rolls the soft-sighing Alabama.

The embers are dying low--the household are sleeping, all save our aunt of Arny and myself. And I remind her, how once when she lay low upon a couch of sickness, I had heard the governor say to the good doctor, "All that I have been, all that I may become, I owe it to her. In the outset, on the very threshold of our married life, I should have fallen beneath the weight which rested upon my young shoulders, but for her devotion, her patience, and her energy." And we who knew all the circumstances, knew that it was so. And again we spoke of Ivanhoe. Talked of the deadly strife, when it was brewing, when the State of Mississippi sent a commissioner to confer with Missouri upon the expediency of immediate secession; and Ivanhoe said to the envoy, "Come with me, and say if the roses of your sunny South are fairer than the flowers which bloom beside the mighty Missouri." Then Ivanhoe whispered in the ear of Rowena, "Bid my sister, Archie, that is to be, that she grace the parlor with her presence this evening; for I would have him see you all." And to me the envoy said, "Of all your chieftains I have seen, I most admire your relative of Glenarny; but I fear him--"

"Fear him," replied Rowena, who had caught the words but imperfectly; "fear him! I have played around his knee, and although he looks the lion, he is gentle as the lamb. You should see how the neighbors and the little children, and the negroes, old and young, do love him."

The envoy smiled, and turning to me, continued: "I fear him for his influence with the people. He clings to the Union too fondly."

"He is a man of peace," I answered. "But yesterday he told me that those who were clamoring for war knew not of what they were speaking. 'I have been upon the battle-field, I have heard the cries of the wounded and the groans of the dying; I have had widows come and ask me, what of their husbands--the fathers of their little children; there were not many of them, but the sight was too much for me.' I have heard him tell of a gallant South Carolinian who fell upon the fields of Mexico; the aged father and the betrothed bride of the cavalier, came all the way from Charlestown to Leavenworth, to see Gen. Arny, having heard that their loved dead had been sent rashly into danger. But this was not true, and Arny told them how it was, and they have loved him ever since for the sympathy he gave them. Yes, Mr. Envoy, Gen. Arny loves the Union our fathers of Virginia had so great a hand in framing. We all love it--but when the crisis comes and his motherland is menaced, he will be found fighting, and that right valiantly in her defense."

The strife upon the battlefield has passed us by, and Azrael has spared us all, all save Ivanhoe. But the chieftain is in exile; hear him as he folds the mantle of his dignity about him, that mantle which has never trailed in the dust--no, not even in the presence of his faithful African valet, and says: "I did all that my talents enabled me to do, to avert the calamities of war; but when my native land was endangered, I drew my sword in her defense; for this I have no pardons to ask."

And then he bids us to come to the Hiacienda, fringed with pine-apples beneath the shadows of the Cordileras, and live under the rule of the beautiful Empress, daughter of a line of kings, and her liege, the good Maximilian, who deserted his castle beside the Gulf of Venice, in the hope of bring order out of chaoes, in the otherwise Elysian land. Surely those who have witnessed adverse transformation so beyond credulity as those which have taken place in our beloved Missouri, cannot doubt that revolutions of a different character may eventuate in the grand events of the nineteenth century. Surely the daughter of a king, and the grand-daughter of a king of France, and a son of the House of Hapsburg--who would, with their own princely hands, make the bread and wash and kiss the feet of a dozen aged poor, in sublime imitation of the sublime example of her Saviour--had been sent of heaven to redeem this people. I have been twice invited to dine with our most excellent Empress, once in the Halls of the Montezumas, and again in Cordova, as she was on her travels to Yucatan. She is really beautiful, very accomplished, and dressed upon these occasions with the utmost simplicity, in pure white, and without jewels. Indeed, had I met her by accident, I should have taken her for a lovely country-girl, such is the charming artlessness and naturalness of her manner.

"But," he adds, "you may show my letters to my friends, but keep them out of the newspapers;" and we thought, as has often been thought of him before, that he was over-cautious, though we obeyed his injunctions. His friends, however, were not so prudent, and results have proven to us that he was right; all people do not see alike. Some do not realize that everything must be done by means, nothing by magic.

He seems very anxious that we should come. And he says: {smaller text, poem lines again}

"Though solitude is sometimes best society, We pine for kindred natures to mingle with our own."

But our mother is growing old; she may not like to leave her buried loves, and tearfully we said: "Farewell! May God be with you on land and sea." And then for weeks after the parting, our mother was sick; so, as she lay upon her couch one day, she was thinking of her sister, and she said, "She was born the 10th of May, and that was yesterday." And then she counted the days, until she should, Providence smiling, be with her husband in the land of the orange and vine. A few days thereafter we saw that the ship which had sailed for the city of the True Cross, situate upon the Southern gulf, had foundered at sea, upon the stormy coast of Hatteras, and on the 10th of May mother received news which will be given in the next chapter.

{centered}CHAPTER XVII. {CENTERED} THE SHIPWRECK. {right justified, small} "NEW YORK, April 22, 1866. "MY DEAR SISTER:

"This is the first day that I have felt able to address you since our terrible misfortune of the 12th inst., some account of which you have seen in the newspapers. Truly, as our dear old father used so often to repeat: "Misfortunes come not singly, but in battalions." In our case it has assuredly been verified. And yet I feel at this moment a deep debt of gratitude to God that our lives were spared--yes, miraculously spared. From the first, hope seemed a wild delusion. I was alarmed, first by the awful jar and dash of the ship several hours before daylight. For a second I thought it a dream. Soon after the vessel struck, the smoke-stacks fell, crushing in the bulwarks, and staving in one of the life-boats, as I afterwards learned. The flames then burst furiously forth, and the fear of fire appalled the bravest men. Fortunately, however, the blow-pipes broke off at the same time, and the water rushing in saved the boilers from explosion. Cecil sprang to his feet, requesting us to dress immediately. But we were so much paralyzed that we could not obey his first bidding. I felt that we might as well go down in our night-robes as any other way. However, he remonstrated, begging us to be in great haste. I then threw on my dress, but could not get my arms into the sleeves, so I tied them around my waist; this left me a very long train. Marvelous to relate, I, however, waded through in some way. When we reached the deck we found all of the ladies there assembled except one--a Spanish lady. When she made her appearance, I can never forget her expression of countenance. She behaved calmly, but the terror expressed in her face is beyond conception. She was the wife of Senor Arajo, sent two years ago as envoy from the imperial government to that of the United States.

"Although he was not received by this government, he has remained in New-York until the present, and had started back to Mexico on the Vera Cruz. He seemed to be more Americanized than she did. He spoke our language, but she did not. They had a little daughter, four years of age, who often acted as interpreter for her mother, as she spoke both languages very well. He had several nephews, who had been with him during his stay in this country, and other elegant Spanish gentlemen, in all about thirty--perhaps more. There were several Cubans. We might have gone all the way without making their acquaintance but for the ship-wreck. Our situation upon the island, upon which we were thrown in distress, was however such, that we became very social; so much so that when we reached Norfolk, on our way to New-York, by request of Senor Arajo, many of us had our photographs taken in a group. We endeavored to appear as nearly as possible in our costume and general appearance as when ship-wrecked. So I must tell you here that Senor Arajo, in attempting to get into the life-boat, fell overboard into the sea. Hence you will discover in the picture that his hair is wet and the water dripping from his face. Some of the gentlemen had life-preservers tied around them. The ladies' hair was falling in every direction; Eloise's was flowing in the breeze, her comb and hat having been left on the ship. Some of the ladies gave her a handkerchief. I, in my frenzy, left my cap and other articles of dress, but succeeded in getting the sea-foam. Archie gave me a kerchief, which I tied upon my head, as you will discover in the picture. I will now return to my first appearance upon deck, and with pleasure recount the exertions of Cecil (which surpassed my expectations) to save us. The passengers were quite enthusiastic over his noble conduct. As I before mentioned, we had nothing but star-light. The ship threw up distress signals, which illuminations but discovered to us more plainly our perilous situation, and made more clear to our vision the terrible billows of the sea. When the life-boat was in readiness to receive the ladies, Eloise was the first to descend, I the second; there were but seven ladies and two children, therefore two lifeboats were sufficient for them. I had no idea what was to be done, when our life-boat moved off to give place to the other. My only hope was in the protection of an all-wise and merciful God, who doth not willingly afflict us. And I must say that I felt in that moment, that if it was his will we should perish, it must be all right. I was the only lady who raised her voice in prayer for his protection.

"The whole company were calmer than you can imagine. Our escape was indeed a miracle. Think of a helpless creature like myself swinging down into the life-boat, and that tossing in every direction, seeming, to all appearances, that it must go under. The life-boats were tied to the ship, which still remained firm in her position. We were riding the billows around her for two hours, I suppose, not having any idea what would be our next move. As the light of morning dawned upon us we saw that some of the gentlemen had reached the shore. That of course gave us hope; every moment seemed an hour to us. At length they returned to our rescue, and inquired who would first volunteer to go with them. I did not hesitate, seeing that was our only chance. I was the first one in the boat, Eloise the next; then two others. We reached the shore about nine o'clock, I imagine. The passengers on the ship, we were told, raised quite a shout when they saw us land in safety. I was completely enveloped in the sea, however. Just as I was leaving the boat--I being the last one to get out--a wave came, dashing over our heads, which threw me perfectly flat, and would have carried me into the ocean but that the sailors held on to me. My feet had been wet from the time I got into the life-boat, and by this time my clothes were completely saturated from head to foot. I remained in these clothes until the next day, when we reached Roanoke Island. I slept in them all night, and, strange to say, did not take cold. I sat upon the sand with my clothes dripping, watching the boat returning for those we left behind. It would go entirely out of sight when descending the waves. I can but feel thankful every moment to our divine Master, that all were saved. The next boat brought Quincy, and the next brought Cecil. At that time I had not thought for our losses, I was so thankful for our lives. But since my return to this city, we feel very much the need of our clothing, especially. I felt more distressed on Eloise's account than my own. Her handsome traveling--dress was torn to pieces. She will be compelled to purchase another to travel in. It cost us upwards of fifty dollars in specie to get back to New-York, and our expenses at this place for six days amount to something to people in our present condition. Mr. R--- paid our expenses while here before at an elegant private boarding-house. We have not seen him since our return. Col. S--- and lady called. I was very much pleased with them. Rev. Mr. B---, of Brooklyn, called, expressing a wish to assist us in making new purchases. I felt very grateful for his kind offer, which I was compelled to decline for want of means, unless, indeed, we recover damages of the ship's company, for which they should be responsible, as the accident was the result of the most wanton negligence.

"We will try it once more on the Manhattan, which leaves the 25th, two days from to-day. Cecil has brought suit, which will not, of course, be terminated in time to assist us in this emergency. We assessed our losses at three thousand dollars; but I have, upon reflection, found that it was much too low a figure. I did not think of those elegant silver and gold snuff-boxes, four of them presented by the General, nor of laces, silks and embroideries presented us in the South. I only thought of the little ready money left us to expend in New-York. And I have since thought of the making of our clothing, which was all either lost or rendered useless by saturation with sea-water.

"We sent you papers from Norfolk to assure you of our safety, but could you have known our situation you would scarcely have expected us to write. Upon landing at Body's Island, at a poor fisherman's hut, we remained there until next morning, and were compelled to take his "dug out" with one sail, and go fifteen miles across Pamlico Sound to Roanoke Island. A Mr. G--- and a Mr. B---, of Virginia, have attached themselves to our party. We found them very pleasant company. Mr. G---, is from Petersburg, and a relative of Lieutenant Maury,-was introduced to us in New York by Colonel S---, of the 'Daily News.' Mr. B--- is from the Valley, and has a letter of introduction from General Lee to my husband. So the fisherman's boat was just large enough to accommodate us, and carry the little baggage we had left.

"As we were the first to leave Body's Island, we fared a little better than those who followed. A Federal officer had the kindness to give us his room. Then we remained two days and nights before getting a conveyance to Norfolk, and a miserable one it was. In that place we stayed one day. The purser paid our expenses while there, and thence to New-York, but in every other instance we had our own bills to foot.

"I mentioned our little baggage all was lost--with the exception of our trunks, and they being some time under sea-water, the contents were rendered valueless, especially as we had our silk dresses in them; lawns and such clothing as could be washed was packed in boxes, which went to the bottom. I mentioned that I tied the sleeves of my dress around my waist--a very fortunate thing, indeed, as it saved my purse, which contained all that I possessed.

"But for the disaster we would have reached our destination to-day. I suppose Clyde has gone via New Orleans, and by our not coming I fear they will imagine we are lost, and there is no way of relieving their suspense. I have not said half I wished, but will reserve the remainder for verbal communication, as I cannot give up the idea of your joining us in our colony."

{centered} CHAPTER XVIII. {CENTERED} ROBERT VAN ARMAT.

THE very papers which brought us news of the shipwreck, announced the deep affliction of others in whom we felt no little interest. A widowed mother and two brothers, as we knew, were mourning over this little paragraph: "Died, March 11th, at Boone, Texas, Robert Van Armat, aged 28 years. Friends and acquaintances are invited to attend his funeral at the Central Presbyterian Church, (corner of Eighth and Locust), on Wednesday afternoon, April 4th, at three o'clock." And I thought, as I read it, of a sunset along the Platte which he and I were watching; he lying upon our buffalo carpet, within our little canvas parlor, and I sitting beside him, looking alternately at the glorious exit of the god of day upon the limitless plain, and the fatal flush which illumined his fine Grecian face--thinking, meanwhile, how sad it was to see one so gifted, so fitted to adorn the social circle and brighten the fireside, stricken down in the morning of his days. We were talking of the mysterious ways of Providence, when all unconscious of my thoughts, he made answer to them: "I feel that it is good for me that I have been afflicted; I know it comes from the hand of God; for in no other way could one of my temperament have been led to reflect upon the future. So content was I with this world that I should never have taken time to think of the eternal home toward which I know I am fast hastening."

And then he surprised me with his beautiful ideas upon the inner life, for he spoke as those who read from the volume of their own hearts can alone speak. Then, in fancy, I stood beside "the heaps of dust;" but we love them so which represent the elegant Christian gentleman, and others dear to me, and tears came, came as they can only come to the eyes of those upon whose hearts death hath traced his illegible hand-writing.

But hapily for us the cloud of darkness, to so many sojourning in the wilderness through which we are all passing, becomes a glorious pillar of light--unless indeed, the counterpart of a little painting I have known him wear nearest his heart, refuses to be comforted.

Ah, since I think of it, I have heard him say he would wed no woman whose heart had not been purified by the refining influences of religion. Once more--"my song hath ceased--my theme has died into an echo;"--and with the same refrain.

"I told you so--that I knew not as I spun my thread, what colors it would take, nor how the woof and warp might match. But I did not order the events--the novelist alone of mortal men hath that power--and I am no romancer. Alas! alas! I am but a short-sighted human creature, knowing not what is best; and I would have given Rowland and Robert both length of days, and loving wives, with children such as mine.

But, hist! As I draw my lines to a close, what is that sweet sound I hear after all, upon the end of them? It is--it is--the silvery music of wedding bells. But sorry am I, I cannot tell you now, for whom of all the acquaintances you have made in these pages, they are so romantically ringing. This much I will say to you, if you love me--for love is power--my Beatrice hath put it into my heart to adopt the family of a valiant officer who laid down his life for my people. But I must now say, {smaller text, centered, poem}

"Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been, A sound which makes us linger--yet--farewell!"

And rejoice the heart of the man--it must have been a man--who said no woman's writing is complete without a postscript, by giving confirmation thus. If you love me, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of the Lafayette Sybil, I will write you, in all probability, from the Hiacienda, fringed with pine-apples, beneath the shadows of the Cordileras (unless, indeed, my beautiful dreams of their return to home, become golden realities, with the eternal principles of love and charity in their subtle alchemy) the history of Virgil Van Arsdale, and then, for your sake, I will try to paint the magic music of Wedding Bells.