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France would pick out Edgar Poe's drunken vaporings as a we think of the first purely American success in literature veritable presentment of our intellect at its best. Let us of the highest order. And yet Irving was only half Ameribeware how we accept it as wholly true that the judgment can; in the other half he was an English product and even of foreign nations is the judgment of posterity-nor for that an English resident. He wrote in London, he lived there, matter, are the critical conclusions of posterity itself always like a Henry James or Julian Haw horne to-day; he was a to be accepted as sound.

member of the circle of leading English authors; he adWell, to begin with, we have a national mind, and an ex dressed his books to British readers; and the scenes, method pression of it in literature, even though our foreign critics and subjects of much of the "Sketch Book” or “Braceridge have not always measured it aright. We are not English, Hall,” even belonged to the England rather than to the notwithstanding our English and linguistic and literary | America of the time. In the "Sketch Book,” to be sure, heritage; nor are we French, German, or Spanish. Ameri are the perennial legends of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van can literature is a result of the development, under wholly Winkle; but the way in which the stories were told was in changed surroundings, of a selected part of the English chief part an English way. The gentleness and finish of mind. If you read a history of the English colonies in Irving's style found their source in the same books and litAmerica down to 1765, you have read a prophecy of their erary methods which produced the essays of Charles Lamb; subsequent achievement down to 1881-in literature as in and the American stories which Irving wrote were about everything else. Slowly repeat the names of the colonies us rather than of us. I think it a mistake to say that Irving and think of those who made them: New Hampshire; was the first purely American author of a high rank. It is Massachusetts, with its twin settlements of Pilgrim Plym more correct to say that he was the first author of high rank outh and Puritan Massachusetts Bay; Rhode Island under who was born here. And yet in “Knickerbocker's History Roger Williams; Connecticut; the Dutch and English in of New York” he gives a book which an Englishman could New York; New Jersey; the Friends in Pennsylvania; Del not have produced; and in "Astoria,” “Wolfert's Roost," aware; Maryland and the Roman Catholics; Virginia, with "Captain Bonneville," and the “Life of Washington," he its good and its bad representatives of Cavalier England, its further elaborated American themes. But the Knickerrough-scuff and its honorable elements; the Carolinas; bocker school in our literature was hardly an indigenous Georgia. -As you name each colony, there comes into your growth. The Dutch influence was not a permanent one in mind a picture of its then achievement and its then prom- | letters or in life, here in America; and I think any one of ise-vague indeed and hard to understand in some particu- my hearers, if he or she will candidly express an opinion, lars, but still turning unerringly to the fulfillment of to-day. will say that Rip Van Winkle, or Ichabod Crane, or DiedInto these colonies, with their too widely dissimilar ruling rich Knickerbocker does not really arouse any feeling of elements, the Puritans north and the Cavaliers south, national kinship; does not seem much more American than has poured emigration from all Europe, but still the same Dominie Sampson, or the Bruce, or Thaddeus of Warsaw, spirit dominates and moulds and gives character to all the to mention a few characters in the foreign literature of the later accessions. The surroundings are new, the influences time. Irving's friends and contemporaries, Paulding, complex, the environments, even, changing constantly; but Drake, and Halleck, were somewhat more American, esstill the Anglo-Saxon mind is dominant; still we are an pecially Drake; but neither in New York nor Boston had English people, and our literature an English literature, the true native element yet fully come to the surface in our but ope growing from the best and most germinant ele best literature. R. H. Dana's “Idle Man" was nothing but ments in the parent brain, and taking from our cliffs and a Boston edition of Addison and the eighteenth century eswoods and lakes and mountains something which Tenny- sayists, and the North American Review was the London son does not find in the Isle of Wight, nor Wordsworth at Quarterly transplanted to: Massachusetts Bay. But the Windermere, nor Burns among the Scottish heather. signs of a new day had already come. There was Drake's

At first our literature was like our life-concerned almost “American Flag,' and Dana's "Buccaneer,” and the scenery wholly with problems of grim existence and unknown des of some lines of Bryant's “Thanatopsis," and most of tiny, theological and philosophical. We wrote pamphlets Drake's "Culprit Fay," to show that not only our surroundinnumerable, and political and religious discussions with ings but our spirit were creeping into the best poetry. Halout end. The Puritan character showed itself in literature, leck's “Marco Bozzaris" might indeed have been written in but in sterner and less poetical lines than those of Milton London as well as in New York; but though Dana's “Bucor Marvel in the mother country. And yet literature grew caneer' was closely planned on a foreign model, and "Thanin excellence of manner as well as matter. Edwards wrote atopsis” was a poem of world-wide applicability, in each of better English than the Mathers; Jefferson's and Franklin's these, and in other poems as well, appeared a willingness to prose surpassed that of the seventeenth century colonists; be natural; to see what was at hand, and to feel what was Freneau's poetry was far in advance of Michael Wiggles- around and about, as well as what was conventional and worth's; and the finished force of the Federalist would not common. As Bryant grew older he turned more and more have been possible here a hundred years before. Only while to native persons and things—to the water fowl, or green we ceased for a little to think deeply and rightly and inde- river, or monument mountain, or trees and skies of his pendently did we cease to give sure signs of becoming far native hills. In Longfellow's early work was a new inmore than a mere literary dependency of England—such as fluence—that of continental Europe, with whose literature Canada and Australia and East India have been. Tom he was unusually familiar; “Outre-mer" was Germanized Paine's creeds, and the miserable echo of the French infi-Addisonian, and “Hyperion" was like a translation from a delity of the latter half of the eighteenth century, worked Bingen romancer; while in Longfellow's poetry was first a baleful and unsettling influence on our thought, at a time felt the spirit of the Norsemen's sagas and the breath of when there was but one professed Christian even in Yale Sweden's shores. But to Longfellow, as to Bryant, advancCollege; but the sky soon cleared, and the good work of in- ing years brought more and more closely the warm breath tellectual development went on, until in the early years of of his own fatherland, dear and true as the Germans, and as the nineteenth century, we really began to be able to think fruitful at length of literary products. The American literaand talk of an American literature-one which concerned ture was almost here, and though some of our best authors, itself with belles-lettres as well as politics, with poetry as like Motley and Prescott, still continued to look to other well as theology, and with fiction as well as hard fact. shores for their subjects, the influence of the soil was felt

It is to Washington Irving that we naturally turn when too strongly ever again to pass away.

The American influence proper was felt at its strongest in dian's woods and waters and skies, and in reading “Hiathe novels of Cooper. Here was something wholly new, watha" we are taken back to the nature of hundreds of years something fresh and unfamiliar to foreign readers, and in- ago of the mythic period, but still to the nature of America, deed to readers at home; a little exaggerated and florid in unspoiled by the fumes of Dutch schnapps, and unclouded style, to be sure, but no importation. Candidly, I do not by the veils of London fogs. I wish I could spend this think that Cooper, were he living and writing to-day, would whole lecture-hour with you over “Hiawatha" alone, for it attain the place he held and holds; but he was in very truth would do both you and me a genuine good to re-read it in a pioneer, and deserves a pioneer's honors, whatever his these woods with which it so seems akin; and reading litershortcomings in literary art and personal temper. The les ature is so much better than hearing about it or talking son we needed to learn was the lesson of looking at home about it. I hope that some of you will by its aid get near instead of abroad, of making our literature, not borrowing to Nature's heart before you go hence. And if you have it; and this lesson Cooper was admirably qualified to teach | Longfellow beside you you may also re-read the “Courtship with success. Longfellow, Holmes, Bryant, Lowell, and of Miles Standish," and the “New England Tragedies," to Whittier were well learning the lesson of themselves; in see how the poet turns our history as well as our myths to deed it was in the air, and while the young Lowell began in good account; and then in his shorter poems you may find 1838, with poems on the moon, and the sea, and the foun anew how he enshrines our more than English, because tain, and Perdita, and the whole catalogue of sentimental American, love of truth and honor, and purity, and the subjects, ten years later he was an older and a wiser man, kindly soul. Let us take a moment, however, to read towho could read his countrymen such a lecture as this: gether one of Longfellow's shorter poems, a brief unrhymed

melody which illustrates in no less degree his power of ap“There are one or two things I should just like to hint, For you don't often get the truth told you in print;

prehending, and using as poetical material that which is The most of you (this is what strikes all beholders)

nearest at hand, and which all may perceive and underHave a mental and physical stoop in the shoulders;

stand in their poetic moods. It is of nothing save the sound Though you ought to be free as the winds and the waves, of bells heard at a summering place: You ’ve the gait and the manners of runaway slaves ;

Though you brag of your New World you don't half believe in it,
And as much of the Old as is possible weave in it;

O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!

O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn!
Your goddess of freedom, a tight, buxom girl,
With lips like a cherry and teeth like a pearl,

From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted, With eyes bold as Herè's, and hair floating free,

Your sounds aërial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn! And full of the sun as the spray of the sea,

Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight, Who can sing at a husking or romp at a shearing,

O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn!
Who can trip through the forests alone without fearing,
Who can drive home the cows with a song through the grass,

The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland, Keeps glancing aside into Europe's cracked glass,

Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, 0 Bells of Lynn! Hides her red hands in gloves, pinches up her lithe waist,

Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward And makes herself wretched with transmarine taste;

Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn!
She loses her fresh country charm when she takes
Any mirror except her own rivers and lakes.

The distant light-house hears, and with his flaming signal,

Answers you, passing the watchword on, 0 Bells of Lynn! You steal Englishmen's books and think Englishmen's thought,

And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges, With their salt on her tail your wild eagle is caught;

And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Lynn! Your literature suits its each whisper and motion To what will be thought of it over the ocean;

Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations, The cast clothes Europe your statesmanship tries

Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn! And mumbles again the old blarneys and lies ;

And startled at the sight, like the weird woman of Endor, Forget Europe wholly, your veins throb with blood,

Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells of Lynn!
To which the dull current in hers is but mud;
Let her sneer, let her say your experiment fails,

In the prose works of Holmes, and in his verse, this AmerIn her voice there's a tremble e'en now while she rails,

ican element appears with scarcely less clearness. “The And your shore will soon be in the nature of things

Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," and its two companion Covered thick with gilt driftwood of runaway kings,

volumes, are of the soil, and so are most of the poems of Where alone, as it were in a Longfellow's Waif,

him who has been called the American Pope. But in Her fugitive pieces will find themselves safe.

Whittier it is still more constantly evident. Whittier's O my friends, thank your God, if you have one, that he

"Snow-Bound" is an American classic, which describes 'Twixt the Old World and you set the gulf of a sea;

scenes and events all our own, with a literary art not less Be strong-backed, brown-handed, upright as your pines,

excellent than that of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," or By the scale of a hemisphere shape your designs, Be true to yourselves and this new nineteenth age,

Burns' “Cotter's Saturday Night.” Take Whittier for all As a statue by Powers or a picture by Page,

in all, I am sometimes inclined to consider him the most Plough, sail, forge, build, carve, paint, all things make new, American of American poets-not so much when, to borrow To your own New-World instincts contrive to be true,

his own humorous description of himself, he “turns the Keep your ears open wide to the Future's first call,

crank of an opinion-mill,'' as when he turns to American Be whatever you will, but yourselves first of all,

men and women in their native air-to old Abraham DavenStand fronting the dawn on Toil's heaven-scaling peaks,

port in the Connecticut Legislature at the time of the dark And become my new race of more practical Greeks."

day; to Barbara Frietchie at Frederic; to Port Royal or the Such good, plain, sensible talk as this soon bore fruit—was Dismal Swamp; to poor old Skipper Ireson “tarred and already bearing fruit, for it represented the spirit of the feathered and carried in a cart by the women of Marbletimes. Soon came “Evangeline” and “Hiawatha," of head.” which the latter, although it was published no more than a And in the Middle States, the West, and the South, the quarter of a century ago, was a veritable revelation. In same success is following fidelity to souls and scenes of the reading it we do not feel the sense of strangeness which place. It comes a little later, to be sure, but no less surely. comes with “Knickerbocker” or “Rip Van Winkle;" we Not by the Poes, not by the Henry James, Jrs., with Angloare not Indians ourselves, to be sure, but we know the In American heroes and heroines, but by the Bayard Taylors,

I see,

or Paul H. Haynes, or Margaret J. Prestons, and John J. If I had heard the Spirit right, that told me I should go; Piatts, and Bret Hartes-for I would not have you for a mo For father had a deep concern upon his mind that day, ment suppose that I rank Harte as a literary man with

But mother spoke for Benjamin, -she knew what best to say. Whitman and Miller; at his best he is very good, and what Then she was still: they sat awhile; at last she spoke again, he has written will live, for it is true and original-by such “The Lord incline thee to the right!" and "Thou shalt have him, as these, and by all who are both good artists and good Jane!" children of their own country, who are true to it and to

My father said. I cried. Indeed, 'twas not the least of shocks, themselves, will be wrought the literature which shall truly

For Benjamin was Hicksite, and father Orthodox. deserve the name of American, and shall longest live. Not I thought of this ten years ago, when daughter Ruth we lost: every author who is American is great, but every great Her husband's of the world, and yet I could not see her crossed. author whom we shall raise will be an American author.

She wears, thee knows, the gayest gowns, she hears a hireling "Until an American,” says a recent essayist, “writes a book


Ah, dear! the cross was ours : her life's a happy one, at least. about subjects which are perfectly familiar to him, he can not hope to achieve distinction. Shakspeare was a thorough Perhaps she'll wear a plainer dress when she's as old as 1,Englishman. He knew little and cared less for foreigners,

Would thee believe it, Hannah? once I felt temptation nigh! except so far as he took the plots of his plays from foreign

My wedding-gown was ashen silk, too simple for my taste: tales. His thoughts and his characters were English to the

I wanted lace around the neck, and a ribbon at the waist. core. Scott won immortality by writing of the people How strange it seemed to sit with him upon the women's side! among whom he lived, whose ways and thoughts and peculi I did not dare to lift my eyes: I felt more fear than pride, arities he knew by instinct, and by describing the scenery

Till, "in the presence of the Lord,” he said, and then there came which to him was the loveliest on earth. If Raphael wanted

A holy strength upon my heart, and I could say the same. a Madonna he found one on the streets of Rome. Titian I used to blush when he came near, but then I showed no sign; painted Venetians; Velasquez, Spaniards; while Rembrandt With all the meeting looking on, I held his hand in mine. aped neither one nor the other, but painted plain Dutch bur

It seemed my bashfulness was gone, now I was his for life: gomasters, like the honest man he was. The American who

Thee knows the feeling, Hannah,—thee, too, has been a wife. lives in Paris until he is a mongrel Frenchman can never As home we rode, I saw no fields look half so green as ours; paint a great picture; neither can an American, by lounging The woods were coming into leaf, the meadows full of flowers; in all the capitals of Europe, write a good novel about for

The neighbors met us in the lane, and every face was kind,eigners, simply because the work of such men does not ring

'Tis strange how lively everything comes back upon my mind. true. They must write and paint as they speak the lan

as plain as thee sits there, the wedding-dinner spread: guage--like mongrels, as they are. Art or literature, to be At our own table we were guests, with father at the head, successful, must be the natural fruit of the soil from whence

And Dinah Passmore helped us both,-'twas she stood up with me, it springs; and if American novelists can not write some

And Abner Jones with Benjamin,-and now they're gone, all three! thing worth reading about the only people they can possi It is not right to wish for death; the Lord disposes best. bly understand, they can not write anything worth reading His spirit comes to quiet hearts, and fits them for his rest; at all."

And that he halved our little flock was merciful, I see: Let us take two further illustrations of the literary advan

For Benjamin has two in heaven, and two are left with me. tage of voicing one's own thoughts, and of describing the Eusebius never cared to farm,-'twas not his call, in truth, scenes and feelings familiar to him. The first example shall And I must rent the dear old place, and go to daughter Ruth. be from the placid life of Quaker Pennsylvania, as known Thee 'll say her ways are not like mine,-young people nowadays and described by Bayard Taylor; and the second from

Have fallen sadly off, I think, from all the good old ways. blackened and desolated Richmond just after the war. I But Ruth is still a Friend at heart; she keeps the simple tongue, have selected these two widely separated examples for the The cheerful, kindly nature we loved when she was young; purpose of showing how faithfulness to one's convictions And it was brought upon my mind, remembering her, of late, and experiences helps literary achievements. First let us

That we on dress and outward things perhaps lay too much weight, read

I once heard Jesse Kersey say, a spirit clothed with grace,

And pure, almost, as angels are, may have a homely face. Thee finds me in the garden Hannah-come in! 'tis kind of thee

And dress may be of less account: the Lord will look within:

The soul it is that testifies of righteousness or sin.
To wait until the friends were gone, who came to comfort me.
The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed,

Thee must n't be too hard on Ruth: she's anxious I should go, But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need.

And she will do her duty as a daughter should, I know.

'Tis hard to change so late in life, but we must be resigned : Come, sit thee down! Here is the bench where Benjamin would

The Lord looks down contentedly upon a willing mind. sit On First-day afternoons in spring, and watch the swallows flit: Now turn with me from the North to the South, and hear He loved to smell the sprouting box, and hear the pleasant bees how a defeated rebel wrote of “The Confederate Flag." I Go humming round the lilacs, and through the apple-trees. think you will find in this unfamiliar poem one touch of I think he loved the spring: not that he cared for flowers; most

nature which makes the whole world kin, which may for the

moment enable us to look at it not as we are wont to,-but Think such things foolishness,--but we were first acquainted then, consider it simply as literature, not as politics. For in the One spring: the next he spoke his mind; the third I was his wife, republic of letters here on the western shore of the Atlantic, And in the spring (it happened so) our children entered life.

there is no North, South, East, West, but only America, He was but seventy-five: I did not think to lay him yet

[Applause.) In Kennett Graveyard, where at monthly meeting first we met. The Father's mercy shows in this : 'tis better I should be

Take that banner down, 'tis weary; Picked out to bear the heavy cross-alone in age--than he.

Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary;

Furl it, fold it, let it rest; We've lived together fifty years: it seems but one long day,

For there's not a man to wave it, One quiet Sabbath of the heart, till he was called away;

For there's not a sword to save it, And as we bring from meeting-time a sweet contentment home,

In the blood that heroes gave it; So, Hannah, I have store of peace for all the days to come.

And its foes now scorn and brave it: I mind (for I can tell thee now) how hard it was to know

Furl it, hide it, let it rest.




Take that banner down, 'tis tattered,

the subtle but direct influence of America in almost every EuroBroken is its shaft and shattered;

pean State.

The most significant sight afforded us this year, And the valiant hosts are scattered,

although one of the least noticed, is the enormous exodus which Over whom it floated high.

goes on unceasingly from the Old World to the New. In numerical Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it!

proportions the exodus of the children of Israel to the Promised Hard to think there's none to hold it;

Land was a mere bagatelle compared with the vast and fertilizing Hard, for those who once unrolled it,

stream of human life which is being emptied upon the prairies of Now must furl it with a sigh.

the West. The rate of immigration into New York will this year exFurl that banner, furl it sadly;

ceed two thousand a day. Altogether the United States has reOnce six millions hailed it gladly,

ceived an overflow of the surplus population of Europe exceeding And ten thousand wildly, madly

ten million persons in the last fifty years. Hitherto America has

been but as the safety-valve of the older world. The outcasts, the Swore it should forever wave:

proscribed, the oppressed, and the hunger-smitten of Europe, have Swore that foeman's sword should never Hearts like theirs entwined dissever;

found in the American Republic a safe shelter and a well-spread

table. “The Providence that ordains all things,” said an American And that Hag should float forever O'er their freedom or their grave.

recently, “has bestowed upon America land enough to give every

European peasant a farm. It seems now as if every peasant is Furl it, for the hands that grasped it,

about to claim his guerdon.” The rush across the Atlantic is unAnd the hearts that fondly clasped it,

precedented. One-fortieth of the entire population of Sweden has Cold and dead are lying low;

booked passages to New York. “If this goes on unchecked," said a And that banner, it is trailing,

German, “in a few years all Germany will be found in America." While around it sounds the wailing

Already Ireland beyond the seas counts more sons of Irish descent Of its people in their woe.

than the Green Isle itself. Even from little Switzerland last year For, though conquered, they adore it,

went seven thousand emigrants to the Republics of the West. More Love the cold, dead hands that bore it;

than fifty per cent. of the emigrants are able-bodied men under forty Weep for those who fell before it;

years of age. The emigrants are the cream of the population of the Pardon those who trail and tore it:

countries which they desert. The "freckless loon' stays at home. Oh, how wildly they deplore it,

It is the man of intelligence, enterprise, and energy, who emigrates. Now to furl and fold it so!

It is obvious that so vast a disturbance of the balance of population

must in the long run produce corresponding changes in the political Furl that banner! True, 'tis gory;

and economical situation. The reflex action of the New World upon But 'tis wreathed around with glory,

the Old, already great, is daily increasing. Everywhere American And 't will live in song and story,

competition, American emigration, or American ideas are at work Though its folds are in the dust;

disintegrating the fabric of European society, and perplexing the For its fame on brightest pages,

statesmen of the older world with thoughts of change. The constant Penned by poets and by sages,

drain of his best fighting men to the New World is one of the greatShall go sounding down the ages :

est grievances which Prince Bismarck cherishes against Providence, Furl its folds, for now we must.

and his perplexity is more or less shared by the masters of many Furl that banner softly, slowly;

legions all over Europe. In Ireland we are face to face with a moreFurl it gently,--it is holy,

ment which owes its origin to the Irish Americans, who supply it For it droops above the dead:

with its organ, its funds, and its leaders. The same phenomenon Touch it not,-unfurl it never,

may yet be witnessed in Germany. It is already being witnessed in Let it droop there, furled forever,

the latest agitation against Austrian rule in the Bocche di Cattaro, For its people's hopes are dead.

where the mountaineers are said to be incited to revolt by returned

emigrants from America, who have brought with them the demoThus far I have made little mention of novelists, and I cratic ideas of the West. American influence moulded the Bulhave done so in order to save for the last this one word, garian cor.stitution, and although that has proved no great success, that a veritable incarnation of what I have said concerning being too much in advanee of the condition of the population, it is a one's self and surroundings is to be found in Nathaniel

significant hint of the things which are to come. So far from allowHawthorne, the greatest of all our authors, and as Lowell

ing the Europeans who are settling in millions within their borders

to Europeanize the States, the States bid fair to Americanize Euhas said, in some respects the greatest imaginative genius since Shakspere. To consider his mind and its expression would demand a whole lecture, nay, many lectures. I therefore merely point to him as an ever-living CATCHING A TARTAR.–Arvine's Cyclopædia states that proof of the advantage gained by unswerving devotion to in a battle between the Russians and the Tartars a Russian the spirit and history of one's own abode. In his mind and soldier called to his captain, saying, he had caught a Tartar. work he is the very embodiment of the region in which he “Bring him along then,” was the captain's reply. "Ay, but lived, with all its characteristics. And now let me finish he won't let me," replied the soldier. It then came out that with a quotation wbich may well give us a sober idea of our the Tartar had caught him. “So,” says Arvine, “when a duty and responsibility in this matter of our national man thinks to take another in, and gets himself bit, they growth with which literature goes hand in hand--a quota say, he's caught a Tartar.!!! tion, not from a Fourth-of-July panegyric on all things American, but from the very last number of a leading English review, which came to me just as I was preparing this


This saying is generally attributed to Napoleon. It is how

ever, to be found in the works of the notorious Tom Paine, "It is a relief to turn from the bickering of the jealous nations of

before Napoleon's time. Paine says: “The sublime and the the Old World to the spectacle which is presented to us across the

ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is difficult to Atlantic. The Future is there, and as we contemplate the majestic

class them separately. One step above the sublime makes proportions of the Great Western Republic, with its population of fifty millions rapidly swelling to double that total, we feel that here

the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the we have the factor that is destined to revolutionize the world. The

sublime again.” influence of the United States upon Europe was by no means insignificant even in the first French Revolution, but it was small compared with that which it is exercising to-day, but was as nothing

NIAGARA.—This name is a compound of two Indian words, com pared with the power which it will wield to-morrow. We feel | Niag hera, “hark to the thunder. !"




speaking in a frank and open manner, which denoted a wish to enter

into conversation. "You do not seem to be of this place." A DREAM OR DRAMA; OR, A SCHOLAR, A GYPSY,

"I come from some distance," said I; "indeed I am walking for A PRIEST.

exercise, which I find as necessary to the mind as the body. I believe

that by exercise people would escape much mental misery." CHAPTER XXXVI.

Scarcely had I uttered these words when the stranger laid his hand, Young gentleman," said the huge fat landlord, "you are come at with seeming carelessness, upon the table, near one of the glasses; the right time; dinner will ne taken up in a few minutes, and such after a moment or two he touched the glass as if inadvertantly, a dinner," he continued, rubbing his hands, “as you will not see then, glancing furtively at me, he withdrew his hand and looked every day in these times."

toward the window. "I am hot and dusty," said I, "and should wish to cool my hands “Are you from these parts?” said I at last, with apparent carelessand face."

“Jenny!" said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, "show "From this vicinity,' replied the stranger. “You think, then, that the gentleman into number seven that he may wash his hands and it is as easy to walk off the bad humors of the mind as of the body?” face.''

“I, at least, am walking in that hope," said I. “By no means," said I, "I am a person of primitive habits, and “I wish you may be successful,” said the stranger; and here he there is nothing like the pump in weather like this."

touched one of the forks which lay on the table near him. "Jenny!" said the landlord, with the same gravity as before, “go

Here the door, which was slightly ajar, was suddenly pushed open with the young gentleman to the pump in the back kitchen, and with some fracas, and in came the stout landlord, supporting with take a clean towel along with you."

some difficulty an immense dish, in which was a mighty round mass Thereupon the rosy-faced, clean-looking damsel went to a drawer, of smoking meat garnished all round with vegetables; so high was and producing a large, thick, but snowy-white towel, she nodded to the mass that it probably obstructed his view, for it was not until he me to follow her; whereupon I followed Jenny through a long pas had placed it upon the table that he appeared to observe the stransage into the back kitchen.

ger; he almost started, and quite out of breath exclaimed: "God At the end of the back kitchen there stood a pump; and going to

bless me, your honor; is your honor the acquaintance that the young it I placed my hands beneath the spout, and said, “Pump, Jenny;": gentleman was expecting?" and Jenny incontinently, without laying down the towel, pumped "Is the young gentleman expecting an acquaintance?" said the with one hand, and I washed and cooled my heated hands.

stranger. And, when my hands were washed and cooled, I took off my neck There is nothing like putting a good face upon these matters, cloth, and unbuttoning my shirt collar, I placed my hand beneath thought I to myself; and, getting up, I bowed to the unknown. the spout of the pump, and said unto Jenny, “Now, Jenny, lay "Sir," said I, "when I told Jenny that she might lay the table-cloth down the towel, and pump for your life.”

for two, so that in the event of any acquaintance dropping in he Thereupon Jenny, placing the towel on a linen-horse, took the might find a knife and fork ready for him, I was merely jocular, handle of the pump with both hands and pumped over my head as being an entire stranger in these parts, and expecting no one. Forhandmaid had never pumped before; so that the water poured in tune, however, it would seem, has been unexpectedly kind to me; I torrents from my head, my face, and my hair down upon the brick flatter myself, sir, that since you have been in this room I have had floor.

the honor of making your acquaintance; and in the strength of that And after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, I called out hope I humbly entreat you to honor me with your company to dinwith a half-strangled voice, “Hold, Jenny!" and Jenny desisted. I ner, provided you have not already dined.'' stood for a few moments to recover my breath, then taking the towel The stranger laughed outright. which Jenny proffered, I dried composedly my hands and head, my "Sir," I continued, “the round of beef is a noble one, and seems face and hair; then, returning the towel to Jenny, I gave a deep exceedingly.well boiled, and the landlord was just right when he sigh and said, “Surely this is one of the pleasant moments of life.” said I should have such a dinner as is not seen every day. A round

Then, having set my dress to rights, and combed my hair with a of beef, at any rate such a round of beef as this, is seldom seen pocket-comb, I followed Jenny, who conducted me back through smoking upon the table in these degenerate times. Allow me, sir," the long passage, and showed me into a neat sande, parlor on the said I, observing that the stranger was about to speak, "allow me ground floor.

another remark. I think I saw you just now touch the fork, I venI sat down by a window which looked out upon the dusty street; ture to hail it as an omen that you will presently seize it, and apply presently in came the handmaid, and commenced laying the table it to its proper purpose, and its companion the knife also." cloth. “Shall I spread the table for one, sir,” said she, "or do you The stranger changed color, and gazed upon me in silence. expect anybody to dine with you?"

“Do, sir," here put in the landlord; "do, sir, accept the young "I can't say that I expect anybody," said I, laughing inwardly to gentleman's invitation. Your honor has of late been looking poorly, myself; "however, if you please you can lay for two, so that if any and the young gentleman is a funny young gentleman, and a clever acquaintance of mine should chance to step in, he may find a knife young gentleman; and I think it will do your honor good to have a and fork ready for him."

dinner's chat with the young gentleman." So I sat by the window, sometimes looking out upon the dusty "It is not my dinner hour," said the stranger; “I dine considerstreet, and now glancing at certain old-fashioned prints which ably later; taking anything now would only discompose me; I shall, adorned the wall over against me. I fell into a kind of doze, from however, be most happy to sit down with the young gentleman; which I was almost instantly awakened by the opening of the door. reach me that paper, and, when the young gentleman has satisfied Dinner, thought I; and I sat upright in my chair. No; a man of his appetite, we may perhaps have little chat together.” the middle age, and rather above the middle height, dressed in a The landlord handed the stranger the newspaper, and, bowing, replain suit of black, made his appearance, and sat down in a chair at tired with his maid Jenny. I helped myself to a portion of the smoksome distance from me, but near to the table, and appeared to be ing round, and commenced eating with no little appetite. The stranlost in thought.

ger appeared to be soon engrossed with the newspaper. We con"The weather is very warm, sir," said I.

tinued thus a considerable time—the one reading and the other din"Very," said the stranger laconically, looking at me for the first ing. Chancing suddenly to cast my eyes upon the stranger, I saw time.

his brow contract; he gave a slight stamp with his foot, and flung "Would you like to see the newspaper?" said I, taking up one the newspaper to the ground, then stooping down he picked it up, which lay upon the window seat.

first moving his forefinger along the floor, seemingly slightly scratch"I never read newspapers," said the stranger, "nor, indeed

ing it with his nail. Whatever it might be that he had intended to say he left unfinished. "Do you hope, sir," said I, "by that ceremony with the finger to Suddenly he walked to the mantel-piece at the farther end of the preserve yourself frcm the evil chance?" room, before which he placed himself with his back toward me. The stranger started; then, after looking at me for some time in There he remained motionless for some time; at length, raising his silence, he said, “Is it possible that you band, he touched the corner of the mantel-piece with his finger, ad “Ay, ay,” said I, helping myself to some more of the round, "I vanced toward the chair which he had left, and again seated him. have touched myself in my younger days, both for the evil chance self.

and the good. Can't say, though, that I ever trusted much in the "Have you come far?'' said he, suddenly looking toward me, and ceremony."


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