[Note: The Table of Contents and the list of illustrations were added by the transcriber. ] McCLURE'S MAGAZINE MARCH, 1896. VOL. VI. NO. 4. TABLE OF CONTENTS ILLUSTRATIONS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. By Ida M. Tarbell. Lincoln Is Admitted to the Bar. Lincoln in the Tenth Assembly of Illinois. The Removal of the Capital to Springfield. Lincoln's First Reported Speech. Abraham Lincoln's First Protest Against Slavery. Social Life in Vandalia in 1836 and 1837. Lincoln Moves to Springfield. Lincoln's Position in Springfield. THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF. By Rudyard Kipling. A CENTURY OF PAINTING. By Will H. Low. CY AND I. By Eugene Field. A YOUNG HERO. By John Hay. CHAPTERS FROM A LIFE. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. LOST YOUTH. By R. L. Stevenson. THE DIVIDED HOUSE. By Julia D. Whiting. SCIENTIFIC KITE-FLYING. By Cleveland Moffett. How to Make a Scientific Kite. How to Send Up a Kite. Runaway Tandems. The Lifting Power of Kites. The Meteorological Use of Kites. The Highest Flight Ever Made by a Kite. Drawing Down Electricity by a Kite-string. The Use of Kites in Photography. Possible Use of Kites in War. A DRAMATIC POINT. By Robert Barr. EDITORIAL NOTES. "Justice, Where Art Thou?" "A Disgrace to Civilization. " The Real Lincoln. Lincoln in 1860--J. Henry Brown's Journal. ILLUSTRATIONS LINCOLN IN 1860. LINCOLN IN 1860. EBENEZER PECK. MEMBERS OF THE SANGAMON SOCIETY DELEGATION IN THE TENTH ILLINOIS ASSEMBLY. ELIJAH PARISH LOVEJOY. LINCOLN IN 1863 OR 1864. FRONTISPIECE OF "ALTON TRIALS, " A SMALL VOLUME PUBLISHED IN 1838. STUART AND LINCOLN'S PROFESSIONAL CARD. OFFICE CHAIR FROM STUART AND LINCOLN'S LAW OFFICE. STUART AND LINCOLN'S LAW OFFICE. A STAGE-COACH ADVERTISEMENT, 1834. MARY L. OWENS. LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS, FAMILIARLY KNOWN AS "TAD. " PAGE FROM STUART AND LINCOLN'S FEE BOOK. OLD SECOND PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS. WILLIAM BUTLER. INVITATION TO A SPRINGFIELD COTILLION PARTY. MAP OF ILLINOIS. THE WAVE "WENT OUT IN THREE SURGES, MAKING A CLEAN SWEEP OF A BOAT. " THE "DIMBULA" TAKING CARGO FOR HER FIRST VOYAGE. "AN UNUSUALLY SEVERE PITCH ... HAD LIFTED THE BIG THROBBING SCREW NEARLY TO THE SURFACE. " THE GARROTED MAN. FROM AN ETCHING BY GOYA. DEATH ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. FROM AN ETCHING BY GOYA. GOYA. FROM A PORTRAIT ETCHED BY HIMSELF. ST. JUSTINA AND ST. RUFINA. FROM A PAINTING BY GOYA. THE BLIND FIDDLER. FROM A PAINTING BY SIR DAVID WILKIE. CHOOSING THE WEDDING GOWN. FROM A PAINTING BY WILLIAM MULREADY. CONTRARY WINDS. FROM A PAINTING BY THOMAS WEBSTER. SANCHO PANZA IN THE APARTMENT OF THE DUCHESS. THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA. " FROM A PAINTING BY GÉRICAULT. INGRES. FROM A PORTRAIT PAINTED BY HIMSELF. DELACROIX. FROM A PORTRAIT PAINTED BY HIMSELF IN 1837. A PORTRAIT OF INGRES, DRAWN IN ROME IN 1816. APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. FROM A PAINTING BY INGRES. THE SEIZURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE BY THE CRUSADERS. DANTE AND VIRGIL CROSSING THE LAKE WHICH SURROUNDS THE INFERNAL CITY OF DITÉ. HENRY H. MILLER, A MEMBER OF THE ORGINAL COMPANY OF ELLSWORTH ZOUAVES. ELLSWORTH IN THE SPRING OF 1861. ELLSWORTH IN 1860. FRANK E. BROWNELL, WHO KILLED THE ASSASSIN OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH. THE DEATH OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH. THE MARSHALL HOUSE, ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA. COLONEL ELLSWORTH AND A GROUP OF MILITIA OFFICERS. "THE OLD BRICK ACADEMY, " PHILLIPS ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACUSETTS. ABBOT ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS. "THE STONE BUILDING, " PHILLIPS ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS. THE HOUSE IN ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS, CONTAINING THE SCHOOL CALLED "THE NUNNERY. " HENRY MILLS ALDEN, EDITOR OF "HARPER'S MAGAZINE. " ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN. "THE DOCTOR DON'T SEEM TO THINK I SHALL TUCKER IT OUT MUCH LONGER. " THE DIVIDED HOUSE. "AS ARMIDA SAT ON THE BENCH UNDER THE OLD RUSSET APPLE-TREE, ... " EVENING IN THE DIVIDED KITCHEN. "LOOKING BEFORE THEM THEY COULD SEE BOTH HUSBAND AND WIFE MOTIONLESS IN THE ROAD. " HARGRAVE LIFTED SIXTEEN FEET FROM THE GROUND BY A TANDEM OF HIS BOX-KITES. FRANKFORT STREET. PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEW FROM A KITE. FRANKFORT STREET. PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEW FROM A KITE. (ANOTHER VIEW. ) THE EDDY TAILLESS KITE. THE HARGRAVE BOX-KITE. NEW YORK, EAST RIVER, BROOKLYN, AND NEW YORK BAY, FROM A KITE. PHOTOGRAPHING FROM A KITE-LINE. CITY HALL PARK AND BROADWAY FROM A KITE. MURRAY AND WARREN STREETS, NEW YORK CITY, FROM A KITE. KITE-DRAWN BUOY. DIRIGIBLE KITE-DRAWN BUOY. THE KITE-BUOY IN SERVICE. "MY GOD!--YOU WERE RIGHT--AFTER ALL. " [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1860. --HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED. From an ambrotype taken in Springfield, Illinois, on August 13, 1860, and now owned by Mr. William H. Lambert of Philadelphia, throughwhose courtesy we are allowed to reproduce it here. This ambrotype wasbought by Mr. Lambert from Mr. W. P. Brown of Philadelphia. Mr. Brownwrites of the portrait: "This picture, along with another one of thesame kind, was presented by President Lincoln to my father, J. HenryBrown, deceased (miniature artist), after he had finished paintingLincoln's picture on ivory, at Springfield, Illinois. The commissionwas given my father by Judge Read (John M. Read of the Supreme Courtof Pennsylvania), immediately after Lincoln's nomination for thePresidency. One of the ambrotypes I sold to the Historical Societyof Boston, Massachusetts, and it is now in their possession. " Theminiature referred to is now owned by Mr. Robert T. Lincoln. Itwas engraved by Samuel Sartain, and circulated widely before theinauguration. After Mr. Lincoln grew a beard, Sartain put a beard onhis plate, and the engraving continued to sell extensively. While Mr. Brown was in Springfield painting the miniature he kept a journal, which Mr. Lambert also owns and which he has generously put at ourdisposal. It will be found on page 400. ] McCLURE'S MAGAZINE. VOL. VI. MARCH, 1896. No. 4. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. BY IDA M. TARBELL. LINCOLN'S ELECTION TO THE TENTH ASSEMBLY. --ADMISSION TO THEBAR. --REMOVAL TO SPRINGFIELD. The first twenty-six years of Abraham Lincoln's life have been tracedin the preceding chapters. We have seen him struggling to escapefrom the lot of a common farm laborer, to which he seemed to be born;becoming a flatboatman, a grocery clerk, a store-keeper, a postmaster, and finally a surveyor. We have traced his efforts to rise abovethe intellectual apathy and the indifference to culture whichcharacterized the people among whom he was reared, by studying witheagerness every subject on which he could find books, --biography, state history, mathematics, grammar, surveying, and finally law. Wehave followed his growth in ambition and in popularity from the daywhen, on a keg in an Indiana grocery, he debated the contents of theLouisville "Journal" with a company of admiring elders, to thetime when, purely because he was liked, he was elected to the StateAssembly of Illinois by the people of Sangamon County. His joys andsorrows have been reviewed from his childhood in Kentucky to the dayof the death of the woman he loved and had hoped to make his wife. These twenty-six years form the first period of Lincoln's life. It wasa period of makeshifts and experiments, ending in a tragic sorrow;but at its close he had definite aims, and preparation and experienceenough to convince him that he dared follow them. Law and politicswere the fields he had chosen, and in the first year of the secondperiod of his life, 1836, he entered them definitely. The Ninth General Assembly of Illinois, in which Lincoln had done hispreparatory work as a legislator, was dissolved, and in June, 1836, he announced himself as a candidate for the Tenth Assembly. A few dayslater the "Sangamon Journal" published his simple platform: NEW SALEM, _June 13, 1836_. TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'JOURNAL': "In your paper of last Saturday I see a communication over the signature of 'Many Voters, ' in which the candidates who are announced in the 'Journal' are called upon to 'show their hands. ' Agreed. Here's mine: I go for all sharing the privileges of the government who assist in bearing its burdens. Consequently, I go for admitting all whites to the right of suffrage who pay taxes or bear arms (by no means excluding females). If elected, I shall consider the whole people of Sangamon my constituents, as well those that oppose as those that support me. While acting as their representative, I shall be governed by their will on all subjects upon which I have the means of knowing what their will is; and upon all others, I shall do what my own judgment teaches me will best advance their interests. Whether elected or not, I go for distributing the proceeds of the sales of public lands to the several States, to enable our State, in common with others, to dig canals and construct railroads without borrowing money and paying the interest on it. "If alive on the first Monday in November, I shall vote for Hugh L. White for President. "Very respectfully, "A. LINCOLN. " The campaign which Lincoln began with this letter was in every waymore exciting for him than those of 1832 and 1834. Since the lastelection a census had been taken in Illinois which showed so largean increase in the population that the legislative districts had beenreapportioned and the General Assembly increased by fifty members. Inthis reapportionment Sangamon County's delegation had been enlargedto seven representatives and two senators. This gave large newopportunity to political ambition, and doubled the enthusiasm ofpolitical meetings. But the increase of the representation was not all that made thecampaign exciting. Party lines had never before been so clearly drawn, nor personal abuse quite so intense. One of Lincoln's first acts wasto answer a personal attack. He did it in a letter marked by candor, good-humor, and shrewdness. "NEW SALEM, _June 21, 1836_. "DEAR COLONEL: "I am told that during my absence last week you passed through the place and stated publicly that you were in possession of a fact or facts which, if known to the public, would entirely destroy the prospects of N. W. Edwards and myself at the ensuing election; but that through favor to us you would forbear to divulge them. No one has needed favors more than I, and generally few have been less unwilling to accept them; but in this case favor to me would be injustice to the public, and therefore I must beg your pardon for declining it. That I once had the confidence of the people of Sangamon County is sufficiently evident; and if I have done anything, either by design or misadventure, which if known would subject me to a forfeiture of that confidence, he that knows of that thing and conceals it is a traitor to his country's interest. "I find myself wholly unable to form any conjecture of what fact or facts, real or supposed, you spoke; but my opinion of your veracity will not permit me for a moment to doubt that you at least believed what you said. I am flattered with the personal regard you manifested for me; but I do hope that on mature reflection you will view the public interest as a paramount consideration and therefore let the worst come. "I assure you that the candid statement of facts on your part, however low it may sink me, shall never break the ties of personal friendship between us. "I wish an answer to this, and you are at liberty to publish both if you choose. "Very respectfully, "A. LINCOLN. " "COLONEL ROBERT ALLEN. " Usually during the campaign Lincoln was obliged to meet personalattacks, not by letter, but on the platform. Joshua Speed, who laterbecame the most intimate friend that Lincoln probably ever had, tellsof one occasion when he was obliged to meet such an attack on thevery spur of the moment. A great mass-meeting was in progress atSpringfield, and Lincoln had made a speech which had produced a deepimpression. "I was then fresh from Kentucky, " says Mr. Speed, "and hadheard many of her great orators. It seemed to me then, as it seems tome now, that I never heard a more effective speaker. He carried thecrowd with him, and swayed them as he pleased. So deep an impressiondid he make that George Forquer, a man of much celebrity as asarcastic speaker and with a great reputation throughout the Stateas an orator, rose and asked the people to hear _him_. He began hisspeech by saying that this young man would have to be taken down, andhe was sorry that the task devolved upon him. He made what was calledone of his 'slasher-gaff' speeches, dealing much in ridiculeand sarcasm. Lincoln stood near him, with his arms folded, neverinterrupting him. When Forquer was done, Lincoln walked to the stand, and replied so fully and completely that his friends bore him from thecourt-house on their shoulders. "So deep an impression did this first speech make upon me that Iremember its conclusion now, after a lapse of thirty-eight years. Saidhe: "'The gentleman commenced his speech by saying that this young manwould have to be taken down, and he was sorry the task devolved uponhim. I am not so young in years as I am in the tricks and trade of apolitician; but live long or die young, I would rather die now than, like the gentleman, change my politics and simultaneous with thechange receive an office worth three thousand dollars a year, andthen have to erect a lightning-rod over my house to protect a guiltyconscience from an offended God. ' "To understand the point of this it must be explained that Forquerhad been a Whig, but had changed his politics, and had been appointedRegister of the Land Office; and over his house was the onlylightning-rod in the town or country. Lincoln had seen thelightning-rod for the first time on the day before. " [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1860. --HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED. From a carbon enlargement, made by Sherman and McHugh of New YorkCity, of an ambrotype owned by Mr. A. Montgomery of Columbus, Ohio, to whose generosity we owe the right of reproduction. This portraitof Lincoln was made in June, 1860, by Butler, a Springfield (Illinois)photographer. On July 4th of that year, Mr. Lincoln delivered anaddress at Atlanta, Illinois, where he was the guest of Mr. VesterStrong. Before leaving town he handed Mr. Strong the ambrotype whichwe copy here. Mr. Strong valued the picture highly, but as he had nochildren to whom to leave it, and as he wished it to be in the care ofone who would appreciate its value, he gave it a few years ago to Mr. Montgomery. ] This speech has never been forgotten in Springfield, and on my visitsthere I have repeatedly had the site of the house on which thisparticular lightning-rod was placed pointed out, and one or another ofthe many versions which the story has been given, related to me. It was the practice at that date in Illinois for two rival candidatesto travel over the district together. The custom led to muchgood-natured raillery between them; and in such contests Lincoln wasrarely, if ever, worsted. He could even turn the generosity of hisrival to account by his whimsical treatment, as the following shows:He had driven out from Springfield in company with a politicalopponent to engage in joint debate. The carriage, it seems, belongedto his opponent. In addressing the gathering of farmers that met them, Lincoln was lavish in praise of the generosity of his friend. "I amtoo poor to own a carriage, " he said, "but my friend has generouslyinvited me to ride with him. I want you to vote for me if you will;but if not, then vote for my opponent, for he is a fine man. " Hisextravagant and persistent praise of his opponent appealed to thesense of humor in his farmer audience, to whom Lincoln's inability toown a carriage was by no means a disqualification. [1] The election came off in August, and resulted in the choice of adelegation from Sangamon County famous in the annals of Illinois. Thenine successful candidates were Abraham Lincoln, John Dawson, DanielStone, Ninian W. Edwards, William F. Elkins, R. L. Wilson, AndrewMcCormick, Job Fletcher, and Arthur Herndon. Each one of these menwas over six feet in height, their combined stature being, it is said, fifty-five feet. The "Long Nine" was the name Sangamon County gavethem. [Illustration: EBENEZER PECK. Ebenezer Peck, who was chiefly instrumental in introducing theconvention system into Illinois politics, was born in Portland, Maine, May 22, 1805. He lived for some time in Peacham, Vermont, where hewas educated. While yet a boy, removed with his parents to Canada. Hestudied law at Montreal, and practised there; became King's Counselfor Canada East, and was finally elected to the provincial parliamenton the Reform ticket. In the summer of 1835 he removed to Chicago, andthere, as a lawyer and a politician, he at once made his mark. He wasa delegate to the first Democratic State convention in Illinois, held at Vandalia, December 7, 1835, and was the chief advocate of thegeneral adoption of the convention system--a system which was at firstopposed and ridiculed by the Whigs, but which very soon they wereforced to adopt. In 1837 Mr. Peck was made one of the InternalImprovement Commissioners. In 1838 he was elected to the State Senate, and in 1840 to the House. He was clerk of the Supreme Court from1841 to 1848, and reporter of that court from 1849 to 1863. Hisanti-slavery sentiments led him to abandon the Democratic party in1853, and in 1856 he helped establish the Republican party in theState. He was again elected to the legislature in 1858. In 1863President Lincoln appointed him a judge of the Court of Claims, andhe held this position until 1875. He died May 25, 1881. --_J. McCanDavis. _] LINCOLN IS ADMITTED TO THE BAR. As soon as the election was over Lincoln occupied himself in settlinganother matter, of much greater moment, in his own judgment. He wentto Springfield to seek admission to the bar. The "roll of attorneysand counsellors at law, " on file in the office of the clerk of theSupreme Court at Springfield, Illinois, shows that his license wasdated September 9, 1836, and that the date of the enrollment of hisname upon the official list was March 1, 1837. The first case in whichhe was concerned, as far as we know, was that of Hawthorn againstWoolridge. He made his first appearance in court in October, 1836. Although he had given much time during this year to politics and thelaw, he had by no means abandoned surveying. Indeed he never hadmore calls. Surveying was particularly brisk at the moment, and hefrequently was obliged to be away for three and four weeks at a time, laying out towns or locating roads. "When he got a job, " says the Hon. J. M. Ruggles, a friend and political supporter of Mr. Lincoln, "therewas a picnic and jolly time in the neighborhood. Men and boys wouldgather around, ready to carry chain, drive stakes, and blaze trees, but mainly to hear Lincoln's odd stories and jokes. The fun wasinterspersed with foot races and wrestling matches. To this day theold settlers around Bath repeat the incidents of Lincoln's sojourns intheir neighborhood while surveying that town. " [Illustration: NINIAN W. EDWARDS. , JOB FLETCHER, SR. , WILLIAM F. ELKINS. , ROBERT L. WILSON. , JOHN DAWSON. MEMBERS OF THE SANGAMON COUNTY DELEGATION IN THE TENTH ILLINOISASSEMBLY--THE DELEGATION KNOWN AS THE "LONG NINE. " NINIAN W. EDWARDS was born in Kentucky in 1809, a son of NinianEdwards, who in the same year was appointed Governor of the newTerritory of Illinois. Mr. Edwards was appointed Attorney-Generalof Illinois in 1834; in 1836 was elected to the legislature; wasreëlected in 1838; served in the State Senate from 1844 to 1848, and again in the House from 1848 to 1852. He was a member of theconstitutional convention of 1847. He died at Springfield, September2, 1889. JOB FLETCHER, SR. , was born in Virginia in 1793; removed to SangamonCounty, Illinois, in 1819. In 1826 he was elected to the IllinoisHouse of Representatives, and in 1834 to the State Senate, where heserved six years. He died in Sangamon County in 1872. WILLIAM F. ELKINS was born in Kentucky in 1792. He went to SangamonCounty, Illinois, in 1825. In 1828, 1836, and 1838 he was elected tothe legislature. In 1831 he raised a company for the Black Hawk War, and was its captain. In 1861 President Lincoln appointed him Registerof the United States Land Office at Springfield, an office which heheld until 1872, when he resigned. He died at Decatur, Illinois, 1880. ROBERT LANG WILSON was born in Pennsylvania in 1805. In 1831 he wentto Kentucky; in 1833 removed to Sangamon County, Illinois; in 1836 waselected to the Illinois House. He removed to Sterling, Illinois, in1840, and died there in 1880. For some years he was paymaster in theUnited States Army. JOHN DAWSON was born in Virginia in 1791; he removed to SangamonCounty, Illinois, in 1827. He was elected to the lower house of thelegislature in 1830, 1834, 1836, 1838, and 1846. He was a member ofthe constitutional convention of 1847. He died November 12, 1850. The other members of the "Long Nine" were Abraham Lincoln, DanielStone, Andrew McCormick, and Arthur Herndon. ] LINCOLN IN THE TENTH ASSEMBLY OF ILLINOIS In December Lincoln put away his surveying instruments to go toVandalia for the opening session of the Tenth Assembly. Larger byfifty members than its predecessor, this body was as much superiorin intellect as in numbers. It included among its members a futurePresident of the United States, a future candidate for the same highoffice, six future United States Senators, eight future members of theNational House of Representatives, a future Secretary of the Interior, and three future Judges of the State Supreme Court. Here sat side byside Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas; Edward Dickinson Baker, who represented at different times the States of Illinois and Oregonin the national councils; O. H. Browning, a prospective senator andfuture cabinet officer, and William L. D. Ewing, who had just servedin the senate; John Logan, father of the late General John A. Logan; Robert M. Cullom, father of Senator Shelby M. Cullom; JohnA. McClernand, afterward member of Congress for many years, anda distinguished general in the late Civil War; and many others ofnational repute. [2] [Illustration: ELIJAH PARISH LOVEJOY. From a silhouette loaned by Mr. Owen Lovejoy of Princeton, Illinois. Elijah Lovejoy was born in Maine in 1802. When twenty-five years oldhe emigrated to St. Louis, where he at first did journalistic work ona Whig newspaper. In 1833 he entered the ministry, and was soon aftermade editor of a religious newspaper, the "St. Louis Observer. " Mr. Lovejoy began, in 1835, to turn his paper against slavery, but theopposition he found in Missouri was so strong that in the summer of1836 he decided to move his paper to Alton, Illinois. Before he couldget his plant out of St. Louis a mob destroyed the greater part. Theremainder he succeeded in getting to Alton, but a mob met it there andthrew it into the river. The citizens of Alton, ashamed of this act, gave Mr. Lovejoy money to buy a new press. At first the tone ofthe paper was moderate, but gradually it grew more emphatic in itsutterances against slavery. The pro-slavery element of the townprotested, indignation meetings were held, and in August, 1837, hispress was thrown into the river. Another was immediately bought, which, in September, followed its predecessor to the bottom of theMississippi. When it was known in Alton that Mr. Lovejoy had ordereda fourth press, and had resolved to fight the opposition to the end, a public meeting was called, at which many speeches were made on bothsides, and he was urged to leave Alton. This he refused to do, andhis fourth press was landed on November 6, 1837. The next night a mobattacked the warehouse where it was placed, and in the riot one of theassailants, Lyman Bishop, and Elijah Lovejoy himself were killed. ] The members came to Vandalia full of hope and exultation. In theirjudgment it needed only a few months of legislation to put their Stateby the side of New York; and from the opening of the session they wereoverflowing with excitement and schemes. In the general ebullition ofspirits which characterized the Assembly, Lincoln had little share. Only a week after the opening of the session he wrote to a friend, Mary Owens, at New Salem, that he had been ill, though he believedhimself to be about well then; and he added: "But that, with otherthings I cannot account for, have conspired, and have gotten myspirits so low that I feel I would rather be any place in the worldthan here. I really cannot endure the thought of staying here tenweeks. " Though depressed, he was far from being inactive. The Sangamondelegation, in fact, had their hands full, and to no one of the ninehad more been entrusted than to Lincoln. In common with almost everydelegation, they had been instructed by their constituents to adopt ascheme of internal improvements complete enough to give every buddingtown in Illinois easy communication with the world. This for the Statein general; for Sangamon County in particular, they had been directedto secure the capital. The change in the State's centre of populationmade it advisable to move the seat of government northward fromVandalia, and Springfield was anxious to secure it. To Lincoln wasentrusted the work of putting through the bill to remove the capital. In the same letter quoted from above he tells Miss Owens, "Ourchance to take the seat of government to Springfield is better thanI expected. " Regarding the internal improvements scheme he feels lessconfident: "Some of the legislature are for it, and some against;which has the majority, I cannot tell. " [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1863 OR 1864. From a photograph by Brady, and kindly loaned by Mr. Noah Brooks forthis reproduction. ] [Illustration: Frontispiece of "Alton Trials, " a small volumepublished in 1838, containing full notes taken at the time of thetrial of the persons engaged in what is called the "Alton riot. "Twelve persons were indicted "for the crime of riot committed onthe night of the 7th of November, 1837, while engaged in defendinga Printing Press from an attack made on it at that time by an ArmedMob;" eleven others were indicted "for a riot committed in Alton onthe night of the 7th of November, 1837, in unlawfully and forciblyentering the warehouse of Godfrey Gilman and Company, and breaking upand destroying a printing press. " In both cases the juries returned averdict of "not guilty. " (See note on Elijah Lovejoy. )] It was not long, however, before all uncertainty about internalimprovements was over. The people were determined to have them, and the Assembly responded to their demands by passing an actwhich provided, at State expense, for railroads, canals, or riverimprovements in almost every county in Illinois. To compensate thosecounties to which they could not give anything else, they voted thema sum of money for roads and bridges. No finer bit of imaginativework was ever done, in fact, by a legislative body, than the map ofinternal improvements made by the Tenth Assembly of Illinois. There was no time to estimate exactly the cost of these fine plans. Nor did they feel any need of estimates; that was a mere matter ofdetail. They would vote a fund, and when that was exhausted theywould vote more; and so they appropriated sum after sum: one hundredthousand dollars to improve the Rock River; one million eight hundredthousand dollars to build a road from Quincy to Danville; four milliondollars to complete the Illinois and Michigan Canal; two hundred andfifty thousand for the Western Mail Route--in all, some twelvemillion dollars. To carry out the elaborate scheme, they provided acommission, one of the first duties of which was to sell the bonds ofthe State to raise the money for the enterprise. The majority of theAssembly seem not to have entertained for a moment an idea that therewould be any difficulty in selling at a premium the bonds of Illinois. "On the contrary, " as General Linder says in his "Reminiscences, " "theenthusiastic friends of the measure maintained that, instead of therebeing any difficulty in obtaining a loan of the fifteen or twentymillions authorized to be borrowed, our bonds would go like hot cakes, and be sought for by the Rothschilds, and Baring Brothers, and othersof that stamp; and that the premiums which we would obtain upon themwould range from fifty to one hundred per cent. , and that the premiumitself would be sufficient to construct most of the important works, leaving the principal sum to go into our treasury, and leave thepeople free from taxation for years to come. " [Illustration: STUART AND LINCOLN'S PROFESSIONAL CARD. The professional card of Stuart and Lincoln shows that thecopartnership began April 12, 1837. The card appeared in the nextissue of the "Sangamo Journal, " and was continued until Lincoln becamethe partner of Judge Logan, in 1841. ] THE REMOVAL OF THE CAPITAL TO SPRINGFIELD. Although Lincoln favored and aided in every way the plan for internalimprovements, his real work was in securing the removal of the capitalto Springfield. The task was by no means an easy one to direct; foroutside of the "Long Nine" there was, of course, nobody particularlyinterested in Springfield, and there were delegations from a dozenother counties hot to secure the capital for their own constituencies. It took patient and clever manipulation to put the bill through. Certain votes Lincoln, no doubt, gained for his cause by force ofhis personal qualities. Thus Jesse K. Dubois says that he and hiscolleagues voted for the bill because they liked Lincoln, andwanted to oblige him. But probably the majority were won by skilfullog-rolling. Not that Lincoln ever sanctioned "trading" to thesacrifice of his own convictions. General T. H. Henderson, of Illinois, says in some interesting reminiscences of Lincoln, prepared for thisLife and hitherto unpublished: "Before I had ever seen Abraham LincolnI heard my father, who served with him in the legislature of 1838-39and of 1840-41, relate an incident in Mr. Lincoln's life whichillustrates his character for integrity and his firmness inmaintaining what he regarded as right in his public acts, in a markedmanner. "I do not remember whether this incident occurred during the sessionof the legislature in 1836-37 or 1838-39. But I think it was inthat of 1836-37, when it was said that there was a great deal oflog-rolling going on among the members. But, however that may be, according to the story related by my father, an effort was made tounite the friends of capital removal with the friends of some measurewhich Mr. Lincoln, for some reason, did not approve. What that measurewas to which he objected, I am not now able to recall. But those whodesired the removal of the capital to Springfield were very anxious toeffect the proposed combination, and a meeting was held to see if itcould be accomplished. The meeting continued in session nearly allnight, when it adjourned without accomplishing anything, Mr. Lincolnrefusing to yield his objections and to support the obnoxious measure. " [Illustration: OFFICE CHAIR FROM STUART AND LINCOLN'S LAW OFFICE. The chair is now in the Oldroyd Collection in Washington, D. C. ] "Another meeting was called, and at this second meeting a numberof citizens, not members of the legislature, from the central andnorthern parts of the State, among them my father, were presentby invitation. The meeting was long protracted, and earnest in itsdeliberations. Every argument that could be thought of was used toinduce Mr. Lincoln to yield his objections and unite with his friends, and thus secure the removal of the capital to his own city; butwithout effect. Finally, after midnight, when everybody seemedexhausted with the discussion, and when the candles were burning lowin the room, Mr. Lincoln rose amid the silence and solemnity whichprevailed, and, my father said, made one of the most eloquent andpowerful speeches to which he had ever listened. And he concluded hisremarks by saying, 'You may burn my body to ashes, and scatter themto the winds of heaven; you may drag my soul down to the regions ofdarkness and despair to be tormented forever; but you will never getme to support a measure which I believe to be wrong, although by doingso I may accomplish that which I believe to be right. ' And the meetingadjourned. " [Illustration: STUART AND LINCOLN'S LAW OFFICE. From a photograph loaned by Jesse W. Weik. The law office of Stuartand Lincoln was in the second story of the building occupied at thetime the photograph was made by "Tom Dupleaux's Furniture Store. "Hoffman's Row, as this group of buildings was called, was used as acourt-house at that date, 1837. The court-room was in the lower storyof the two central buildings. ] If Lincoln did not support measures which he considered doubtful, hedid, now and then, "tack a provision" on a bill to please a friend, asthe following letter, hitherto unpublished, shows:[3] "SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, _August 5, 1837_. "DEAR SIR: "Mr. Edwards tells me you wish to know whether the act to which your town incorporation provision was attached passed into a law. It did. You can organize under the general incorporation law as soon as you choose. "I also tacked a provision on to a fellow's bill, to authorize the relocation of the road from Salem down to your town, but I am not certain whether or not the bill passed. Neither do I suppose I can ascertain before the law will be published--if it is a law. Bowling Green, Bennett Abell, and yourself are appointed to make the change. "No news. No excitement, except a little about the election of Monday next. I suppose, of course, our friend Dr. Henry stands no chance in your 'diggings. ' "Your friend and honorable servant, "A. LINCOLN. " "JOHN BENNETT, ESQ. As was to be expected, the Democrats charged that the Whigs ofSangamon had won their victory by "bargain and corruption. " Thesecharges became so serious that, in an extra session called in thesummer of 1837, a few months after the bill passed, Lincoln had abitter fight over them with General L. D. Ewing, who wanted to keepVandalia as the capital. "The arrogance of Springfield, " said GeneralEwing, "its presumption in claiming the seat of government, is notto be endured; the law has been passed by chicanery and trickery; theSpringfield delegation has sold out to the internal improvement men, and has promised its support to every measure that would gain a voteto the law removing the seat of government. " Lincoln answered in a speech of such severity and keenness thatthe House believed he was "digging his own grave;" for Ewing was ahigh-spirited man who would not hesitate to answer by a challenge. Itwas, in fact, only the interference of their friends which preventeda duel at this time between Ewing and Lincoln. This speech, to many ofLincoln's colleagues, was a revelation of his ability and character. "This was the first time, " said General Linder, "that I began toconceive a very high opinion of the talents and personal courage ofAbraham Lincoln. " [Illustration: A STAGE-COACH ADVERTISEMENT, 1834. This advertisement appeared in the "Sangamo Journal" in April, 1834, and held a place in the paper through the next three years. Asthe "Four Horse Coach" ran through Sangamon town and New Salem, itdoubtless had Lincoln as a passenger now and then, but not often, probably, for the fare from New Salem to Springfield was one dollarand twenty-five cents, and walking, or riding upon a borrowed horse, must generally have been preferred by Lincoln to so costly a mode oftravelling. ] A few months later the "Long Nine" were again attacked, Lincolnspecially being abused. The assailant this time was a prominentDemocrat, Mr. J. B. Thomas. When he had ended, Lincoln replied ina speech which was long known in local political circles as the"skinning of Thomas. " LINCOLN'S FIRST REPORTED SPEECH. No one doubted after this that Lincoln could defend himself. He becamedoubly respected as an opponent, for his reputation for good-humoredraillery had been established in his campaigns. In a speech made inJanuary he gave another evidence of his skill in the use of ridicule. A resolution had been offered by Mr. Linder to institute an inquiryinto the management of the affairs of the State bank. Lincoln'sremarks on the resolution form his first reported speech. This speechhas been unnoticed by his biographers hitherto; and it appears in noneof the editions of his speeches and letters. It was discovered in the"Sangamo Journal" for January 28, 1837, by Mr. J. McCan Davis, in thecourse of a search through the files instituted by this Magazine. [Illustration: MARY L. OWENS. Born in Kentucky in 1808. Lincoln first met Miss Owens in 1833 atNew Salem, where she made a short visit. In 1836 she came back to NewSalem, and a warm friendship sprang up between them. The questionof marriage was discussed in a disinterested way. Miss Owens leftIllinois in 1838, and in 1841 she married a Mr. Jesse Vineyard. Theletters written to her by Mr. Lincoln she herself gave to Mr. Herndonfor publication. ] Lincoln began these remarks by good-humored but nettling chaffing ofhis opponent. "Mr. Chairman, " he said: "Lest I should fall into the too common error of being mistaken in regard to which side I design to be upon, I shall make it my first care to remove all doubt on that point, by declaring that I am opposed to the resolution under consideration, _in toto_. Before I proceed to the body of the subject, I will further remark, that it is not without a considerable degree of apprehension that I venture to cross the track of the gentleman from Coles [Mr. Linder]. Indeed, I do not believe I could muster a sufficiency of courage to come in contact with that gentleman, were it not for the fact that he, some days since, most graciously condescended to assure us that he would never be found wasting ammunition on _small game_. On the same fortunate occasion he further gave us to understand that he regarded _himself_ as being decidedly the _superior_ of our common friend from Randolph [Mr. Shields]; and feeling, as I really do, that I, to say the most of myself, am nothing more than the peer of our friend from Randolph, I shall regard the gentleman from Coles as decidedly my superior also; and consequently, in the course of what I shall have to say, whenever I shall have occasion to allude to that gentleman I shall endeavor to adopt that kind of court language which I understand to be due to decided superiority. In one faculty, at least, there can be no dispute of the gentleman's superiority over me, and most other men; and that is, the faculty of entangling a subject so that neither himself, or any other man, can find head or tail to it. " [Illustration: LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS, FAMILIARLY KNOWN AS "TAD. " From a photograph made by Brady early in Mr. Lincoln's first term. ] [Illustration: PAGE FROM STUART AND LINCOLN'S FEE BOOK. From the original, owned by Jesse W. Weik, by permission. ] Taking up the resolution on the bank, he declared its meaning: "Some gentlemen have their stock in their hands, while others, who have more money than they know what to do with, want it; and this, and this alone, is the question, to settle which we are called on to squander thousands of the people's money. What interest, let me ask, have the people in the settlement of this question? What difference is it to them whether the stock is owned by Judge Smith or Sam Wiggins? If any gentleman be entitled to stock in the bank, which he is kept out of possession of by others, let him assert his right in the Supreme Court, and let him or his antagonist, whichever may be found in the wrong, pay the costs of suit. It is an old maxim, and a very sound one, that he that dances should always pay the fiddler. Now, sir, in the present case, if any gentlemen whose money is a burden to them, choose to lead off a dance, I am decidedly opposed to the people's money being used to pay the fiddler. No one can doubt that the examination proposed by this resolution must cost the State some ten or twelve thousand dollars; and all this to settle a question in which the people have no interest, and about which they care nothing. These capitalists generally act harmoniously and in concert to fleece the people; and now that they have got into a quarrel with themselves, we are called upon to appropriate the people's money to settle the quarrel. " The resolution had declared that the bank practised various methodswhich were "to the great injury of the people. " Lincoln took theoccasion to announce his ideas of the people and the politicians. "If the bank really be a grievance, why is it that no one of the real people is found to ask redress of it? The truth is, no such oppression exists. If it did, our people would groan with memorials and petitions, and we would not be permitted to rest day or night till we had put it down. The people know their rights, and they are never slow to assert and maintain them when they are invaded. Let them call for an investigation, and I shall ever stand ready to respond to the call. But they have made no such call. I make the assertion boldly, and without fear of contradiction, that no man who does not hold an office, or does not aspire to one, has ever found any fault of the bank. It has doubled the prices of the products of their farms, and filled their pockets with a sound circulating medium; and they are all well pleased with its operations. No, sir, it is the politician who is the first to sound the alarm (which, by the way, is a false one). It is he who, by these unholy means, is endeavoring to blow up a storm that he may ride upon and direct. It is he, and he alone, that here proposes to spend thousands of the people's public treasure, for no other advantage to them than to make valueless in their pockets the reward of their industry. Mr. Chairman, this work is exclusively the work, of politicians--a set of men who have interests aside from the interests of the people, and who, to say the most of them, are, taken as a mass, at least one long step removed from honest men. I say this with the greater freedom, because, being a politician myself, none can regard it as personal. " [Illustration: OLD SECOND PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS. During the special session of the legislature convened in the fall of1839 (the first one held at Springfield), the House of Representativesoccupied this church, the State House being unfinished. At the shortspecial session which opened November 23, 1840, the House first wentinto the Methodist church, but on the second day Representative JohnLogan (father of General John A. Logan) offered a resolution "that theSenate be respectfully requested to exchange places of convening withthis House for a short time on account of the impossibility of theHouse discharging its business in so small a place as the Methodistchurch. " This was adopted, and the House moved over to the SecondPresbyterian church. At this special session the Whigs were interestedin preventing a _sine die_ adjournment (because they desired toprotect the State bank, which had been authorized in 1838 to suspendspecie payment until after the adjournment of the next session of theGeneral Assembly), and to this end they sought to break the quorum. All the Whigs walked out, except Lincoln and Joseph Gillespie, whowere left behind to demand a roll-call when deemed expedient. Afew were brought in by the sergeant-at-arms. Lincoln and Gillespie, perceiving that there would be a quorum if they remained, started toleave; and finding the doors locked, Lincoln raised a window, andboth men jumped out--an incident, as Mr. Herndon says, which Lincoln"always seemed willing to forget. " It was in this church, too, thatLincoln delivered an address before the Washingtonian TemperanceSociety, on Washington's birthday, in 1842. The church was erected in1839, and stood until torn down, some thirty years later, to make roomfor a new edifice. --_J. McCan Davis. _] The speech was published in full in the "Sangamo Journal" and theeditor commented: "Mr. Lincoln's remarks on Mr. Linder's bank resolution in the paper are quite to the point. Our friend carries the true Kentucky rifle, and when he fires he seldom fails of sending the shot home. " ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S FIRST PROTEST AGAINST SLAVERY. One other act of his in this session cannot be ignored. It is asinister note in the hopeful chorus of the Tenth Assembly. For monthsthere had come from the Southern States violent protests against thegrowth of abolition agitation in the North. Garrison's paper, the"infernal Liberator, " as it was called in the pro-slavery part ofthe country, had been gradually extending its circulation and itsinfluence; and it already had imitators even on the banks of theMississippi. The American Anti-slavery Society was now over threeyears old. A deep, unconquerable conviction of the iniquity of slaverywas spreading through the North. The South felt it and protested, andthe statesmen of the North joined them in their protest. Slaverycould not be crushed, said the conservatives. It was sanctioned by theConstitution. The South must be supported in its claims, and agitationstopped. But the agitation went on, and riots, violence, and hatredpursued the agitators. In Illinois, in this very year, 1837, we havea printing-office raided and an anti-slavery editor, Elijah Lovejoy, killed by the citizens of Alton, who were determined that it shouldnot be said among them that slavery was an iniquity. To silence the storm, mass-meetings of citizens, the United StatesCongress, the State legislatures, took up the question and voted, again and again, resolutions assuring the South that the Abolitionistswere not supported; that the country recognized their right to their"peculiar institution, " and that in no case should they be interferedwith. At Springfield, this same year (1837) the citizens convened andpassed a resolution declaring that "the efforts of Abolitionistsin this community are neither necessary nor useful. " When theriot occurred in Alton, the Springfield papers uttered no word ofcondemnation, giving the affair only a laconic mention. The Illinois Assembly joined in the general disapproval, and on March3d passed the following resolutions: "Resolved by the General Assembly of the State of Illinois: "That we highly disapprove of the formation of Abolition societies, and of the doctrines promulgated by them. "That the right of property in slaves is sacred to the slave-holding States by the Federal Constitution, and that they cannot be deprived of that right without their consent. "That the General Government cannot abolish slavery in the District of Columbia against the consent of the citizens of said District, without a manifest breach of good faith. "That the Governor be requested to transmit to the States of Virginia, Alabama, Mississippi, New York, and Connecticut a copy of the foregoing report and resolutions. " Lincoln refused to vote for these resolutions. In his judgment noexpression on the slavery question should go unaccompanied by thestatement that it was an evil, and he had the boldness to protestimmediately against the action of the House. He found only one man inthe Assembly willing to join him in his action. These two names arejoined to the document they presented: "Resolutions upon the subject of domestic slavery having passed both branches of the General Assembly at its present session, the undersigned hereby protest against the passage of the same. "They believe that the institution of slavery is founded on both injustice and bad policy, but that the promulgation of abolition doctrines tends rather to increase than abate its evils. "They believe that the Congress of the United States has no power under the Constitution to interfere with the institution of slavery in the different States. "They believe that the Congress of the United States has power under the Constitution to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, but that the power ought not to be exercised unless at the request of the people of the District. "The difference between these opinions and those contained in the above resolutions, is their reason for entering this protest. "DAN STONE, "A. LINCOLN, "Representatives from the County of Sangamon. " [Illustration: WILLIAM BUTLER. From a photograph owned by his grandson, Hon. William J. Butler, Springfield, Illinois. William Butler was a native of Kentucky, beingborn in Adair County, that State, December 15, 1797. In the war of1812, he carried important despatches from the Governor of Kentuckyto General Harrison in the field, travelling on horseback. He went toSangamon County, Illinois, in 1828. In 1836 he was appointed clerk ofthe Circuit Court by Judge Logan, whom he had known in Kentucky. In1859 he was appointed by Governor Bissell State treasurer of Illinois, to fill a vacancy, and in 1860 was elected to that office. Hewas married to Elizabeth Rickard, December 18, 1863. He died inSpringfield, January 11, 1876. Soon after becoming a resident ofSpringfield, Lincoln went to William Butler's house to board. Therehe was like a member of the family. He lived with Mr. Butler untilhis marriage in 1842. The two men were ever the warmest personal andpolitical friends. ] SOCIAL LIFE IN VANDALIA IN 1836 AND 1837. The Tenth Assembly was important to Lincoln not only in itslegislation; it greatly increased his circle of acquaintances. Thecharacter of the work of the session called to Vandalia numbers ofpersons of influence from almost every county in the State. They wereinvariably there to secure something for their town or county, andnaturally made a point of getting acquainted. Game suppers seem tohave been the means usually employed by visitors for bringing peopletogether. The lobbyists were not the only ones in Vandalia who gavesuppers, however. Not a bill was passed nor an election decided thata banquet did not follow. Mr. John Bryant, the brother of WilliamCullen, was in Vandalia that winter in the interest of his county, andhe attended one of these banquets, given by the successful candidatefor the United States Senate. Lincoln was present, of course, and sowere all the prominent politicians of the State. "After the company had gotten pretty noisy and mellow from theirimbibitions of Yellow Seal and 'corn juice, '" says Mr. Bryant, "Mr. Douglas and General Shields, to the consternation of the host andintense merriment of the guests, climbed up on the table, at one end, encircled each other's waists, and to the tune of a rollicking song, pirouetted down the whole length of the table, shouting, singing, and kicking dishes, glasses, and everything right and left, helterskelter. For this night of entertainment to his constituents, thesuccessful candidate was presented with a bill, in the morning, forsupper, wines, liquors, and damages, which amounted to six hundreddollars. " But boisterous suppers were not by any means the important feature ofLincoln's social life that winter in Vandalia. There was anotherand quieter side in which he showed his rare companionableness andendeared himself to many people. In the midst of the log-rollingand jubilations of the session he would often slip away to someacquaintance's room and spend hours in talk and stories. Mr. JohnBryant tells of his coming frequently to his room at the hotel, andsitting "with his knees up to his chin, telling his inimitable storiesand his triumphs in the House in circumventing the Democrats. " Major Newton Walker, of Lewiston, was in Vandalia at the time;and still talks with pleasure not only of the Assembly's energeticlegislation, but of the way Lincoln endeared himself to him and tohis colleague. "We both loved him, " says Major Walker, "but I littlethought then that he would become the greatest man that this countryever produced, or perhaps ever will. Many a night I have sat uplistening to Lincoln's wonderful stories. That was a long timeago--nearly sixty years. I shall be ninety-two years old in a fewdays. I was six years older than Lincoln. " [Illustration: INVITATION TO A SPRINGFIELD COTILLION PARTY OF WHICHLINCOLN WAS ONE OF THE MANAGERS. The invitation is in the collection of Mr. C. F. Gunther of Chicago, through whose courtesy it is here reproduced. ] "I used to play the fiddle a great deal, and have played for Lincoln anumber of times. He used to come over to where I was boarding and askme to play the fiddle for him; and I would take it with me when I wentover to visit him, and when he grew weary of telling stories he wouldask me to give him a tune, which I never refused to do. " LINCOLN MOVES TO SPRINGFIELD. As soon as the Assembly closed, Lincoln returned to New Salem; but itwas not to stay. He had determined to go to Springfield. Major JohnStuart, the friend who had advised him to study law and who had lenthim books and with whom he had been associated closely in politics, had offered to take him as a partner. It was a good opening, forStuart was one of the leading lawyers and politicians of the State, and his influence would place Lincoln at once in command of more orless business. From every point of view the change seems to have beenwise; yet Lincoln made it with foreboding. To practise law he must abandon his business as surveyor, which wasbringing him a fair income; he must for a time, at least, go withoutany certain income. If he failed, what then? The uncertainty weighedon him heavily, the more so because he was burdened by the debts leftfrom his store and because he was constantly called upon to aid hisfather's family. Thomas Lincoln had remained in Coles County, but hehad not, in these six years in which his son had risen so rapidly, been able to get anything more than a poor livelihood from his farm. The sense of responsibility Lincoln had towards his father's familymade it the more difficult for him to undertake a new profession. Hisdecision was made, however, and as soon as the session of the TenthAssembly was over he started for Springfield. His first appearancethere is as pathetic as amusing. "He had ridden into town, " says Joshua Speed, "on a borrowed horse, with no earthly property save a pair of saddle-bags containing a fewclothes. I was a merchant at Springfield, and kept a large countrystore, embracing dry-goods, groceries, hardware, books, medicines, bed-clothes, mattresses--in fact, everything that the country needed. Lincoln came into the store with his saddle-bags on his arm. Hesaid he wanted to buy the furniture for a single bed. The mattress, blankets, sheets, coverlid, and pillow, according to the figures madeby me, would cost seventeen dollars. He said that perhaps was cheapenough; but small as the price was, he was unable to pay it. But if Iwould credit him till Christmas, and his experiment as a lawyer was asuccess, he would pay then; saying in the saddest tone, 'If I fail inthis I do not know that I can ever pay you. ' As I looked up at him Ithought then, and I think now, that I never saw a sadder face. "I said to him: 'You seem to be so much pained at contracting so smalla debt, I think I can suggest a plan by which you can avoid the debt, and at the same time attain your end. I have a large room with adouble bed upstairs, which you are very welcome to share with me. ' "'Where is your room?' said he. "'Upstairs, ' said I, pointing to a pair of winding stairs which ledfrom the store to my room. "He took his saddle-bags on his arm, went upstairs, set them on thefloor, and came down with the most changed expression of countenance. Beaming with pleasure, he exclaimed: "'Well, Speed, I am moved. '" Another friend, William Butler, with whom Lincoln had become intimateat Vandalia, took him to board; life at Springfield thus began underas favorable auspices as he could hope for. After Chicago, Springfield was at that day the most promising city inIllinois. It had some fifteen hundred inhabitants, and the removal ofthe capital was certain to bring many more. Already, in fact, the townfelt the effect. Houses and blocks were started; lawyers, politicians, tradesmen, laborers, were pouring in. Hitherto most of the dwellingshad been of log or frame; now, however, there was an increase in brickbuildings. The effect was apparent too, in society. "We used to eat alltogether, " said an old man who in the early thirties came toSpringfield as a hostler; "but about this time some one came along andtold the people they oughtn't to do so, and then the hired folks atein the kitchen. " This differentiation was apparent to Lincoln anda little discouraging. He was thinking vaguely, at the time of thisremoval to Springfield, that perhaps he best marry a Miss Mary Owens, with whom he had become intimately acquainted in 1836 in New Salem;but Springfield society, and the impossibility of his supporting awife in it, discouraged him. "I am often thinking of what we said about your coming to live at Springfield, " he wrote her in May. "I am afraid you would not be satisfied. There is a great deal of flourishing about in carriages here, which it would be your doom to see without sharing it. You would have to be poor, without the means of hiding your poverty. Do you believe you could bear that patiently? Whatever woman may cast her lot with mine, should any ever do so, it is my intention to do all in my power to make her happy and contented; and there is nothing I can imagine that would make me more unhappy than to fail in the effort. I know I should be much happier with you than the way I am, provided I saw no signs of discontent in you. What you have said to me may have been in the way of jest, or I may have misunderstood it. If so, then let it be forgotten; if otherwise, I much wish you would think seriously before you decide. What I have said I will most positively abide by, provided you wish it. My opinion is that you had better not do it. You have not been accustomed to hardship, and it may be more severe than you now imagine. I know you are capable of thinking correctly on any subject, and if you deliberate maturely upon this before you decide, then I am willing to abide your decision. " [Illustration: (MAP OF ILLINOIS ILLUSTRATING "_An Act to establish andmaintain a General System of Internal Improvements, in force 27th Feb. 1837_") When the Illinois legislature adopted the above plan of internalimprovement in 1837, there was in the whole United States only abouteleven hundred miles of railroad. The above scheme provided forthirteen hundred and fifty. The basis of the outlines used bythe committee in developing the plan was contained in a series ofresolutions offered in the beginning of the session by Stephen A. Douglas. In the house the vote on the bill stood sixty-one in favor totwenty-five against. ] This decidedly dispassionate view of their relation seems not tohave brought any decision from Miss Owens; for three months laterMr. Lincoln wrote her an equally judicial letter, telling her thathe could not think of her "with entire indifference, " that he in allcases wanted to do right and "most particularly so in all cases withwomen, " and summing up his position as follows: "What I do wish is that our further acquaintance shall depend upon yourself. If such further acquaintance would contribute nothing to your happiness, I am sure it would not to mine. If you feel yourself in any degree bound to me, I am now willing to release you, provided you wish it; while, on the other hand, I am willing and even anxious to bind you faster, if I can be convinced that it will in any considerable degree add to your happiness. This, indeed, is the whole question with me. Nothing would make me more miserable than to believe you miserable--nothing more happy than to know you were so. " Miss Owens had enough discernment to recognize the disinterestednessof this love-making, and she refused Mr. Lincoln's offer. She foundhim "deficient in those little links which make up the chain of awoman's happiness, " she said. The affair seems to have been a rathervigorous flirtation on her part, which had interested and perhapsflattered Mr. Lincoln. In the sincerity of his nature he feared he hadawakened a genuine attachment, and his notions of honor compelledhim to find out. When finally refused, he wrote a description of theaffair to a friend, in which he ridiculed himself unmercifully: "I was mortified, it seemed to me, in a hundred different ways. My vanity was deeply wounded by the reflection that I had so long been too stupid to discover her intentions, and at the same time never doubting that I understood them perfectly; and also that she, whom I had taught myself to believe nobody else would have, had actually rejected me with all my fancied greatness. And, to cap the whole, I then for the first time began to suspect that I was really a little in love with her. But let it all go! I'll try and outlive it. Others have been made fools of by the girls, but this can never with truth be said of me. I most emphatically, in this instance, made a fool of myself. I have now come to the conclusion never again to think of marrying; and for this reason--I can never be satisfied with any one who would be blockhead enough to have me. " LINCOLN'S POSITION IN SPRINGFIELD. It was not long before Lincoln became a favorite figure inSpringfield. The skill, the courage, and the good-will he had shown inhis management of the bill for the removal of the capital gave him atonce, of course, special prominence. The entire "Long Nine, " indeed, were regarded by the county as its benefactors, and throughout thesummer there were barbecues and fireworks, dinners and speechesin their honor. "The service rendered Old Sangamon by the presentdelegation" was a continually recurring toast at every gathering. At one "sumptuous dinner" the internal improvement scheme in all itsphases was toasted again and again by the banqueters, "'The Long Nine'of Old Sangamon--well done, good and faithful servants, " drew forthlong applause. Among those who offered volunteer toasts at this dinnerwere "A. Lincoln, Esq. , " and "S. A. Douglas, Esq. " At a dinner at Athens, given to the delegation, eight formal toastsand twenty-five volunteers are quoted in the report of the affair inthe "Sangamo Journal. " Among them were the following: A. Lincoln. He has fulfilled the expectations of his friends and disappointed the hopes of his enemies. A. Lincoln. One of nature's noblemen. By A. Lincoln. Sangamon County will ever be true to her best interests, and never more so than in reciprocating the good feelings of the citizens of Athens and neighborhood. Lincoln had not been long in Springfield before he soon was able tosupport himself, a result due, no doubt, very largely to his personalqualities and to his reputation as a shrewd politician. Not that hemade money. The fee-book of Lincoln and Stuart shows that the returnswere modest enough, and that sometimes they even "traded out" theiraccount. Nevertheless it was a satisfaction to earn a livelihood sosoon. Of his peculiar methods as a lawyer at this date we know verylittle. Most of his cases are utterly uninteresting. The very firstyear he was in Springfield, however, he had one case which createda great sensation, and which, so far as we know, has been overlookedentirely by his biographers. It is an admirable example of theway Lincoln could combine business and politics as well as of hismerciless persistency in pursuing a man whom he believed unjust. It seems that among the offices to be filled at the August election of1837 was that of probate justice of the peace. One of the candidateswas General James Adams, a man who had come on from the East in theearly twenties, and who had at first claimed to be a lawyer. He hadbeen an aspirant for various offices, among them that of governorof the State, but with little success. A few days before the Augustelection of 1837 an anonymous hand-bill was scattered about thestreets. It was an attack on General Adams, charging him with havingacquired the title to a ten-acre lot of ground near the town by thedeliberate forgery of the name of Joseph Anderson, of Fulton County, Illinois, to an assignment of a judgment. Anderson had died, and thewidow, upon going to Springfield to dispose of the land, was surprisedto find that it was claimed by General Adams, and she employed Stuartand Lincoln to look into the matter. The hand-bill, which went intoall of the details at great length, concluded as follows: "I haveonly made these statements because I am known by many to be one ofthe individuals against whom the charge of forging the assignment andslipping it into the general's papers has been made; and because oursilence might be construed into a confession of the truth. I shall notsubscribe my name; but hereby authorize the editor of the 'Journal' togive it up to any one who may call for it. ". After the election, at which General Adams had been elected, thehand-bill was reproduced in the "Sangamo Journal, " with a card signedby the editor, in which he said: "To save any further remarks onthis subject, I now state that A. Lincoln, Esq. , is the author ofthe hand-bill in question. " The same issue of the paper contained alengthy communication from General Adams, denying the charge of fraud. The controversy was continued for several weeks. General Adams used, mostly, the columns of the "Springfield Republican, " filling sixcolumns of a single issue. He charged that the assault upon him wasthe result of a conspiracy between "a knot of lawyers, doctors, andothers, " who wished to ruin his reputation. Lincoln's answers to Adamsare most emphatic. In one case, quoting several of his assertions, he pronounced them "all as false as hell, as all this community mustknow. " Adams's replies were always voluminous. "Such is the turn whichthings have lately taken, " wrote Lincoln, "that when General Adamswrites a book I am expected to write a commentary on it. " Replying toAdams's denunciation of the lawyers, he said: "He attempted to imposehimself upon the community as a lawyer, and he actually carried theattempt so far as to induce a man who was under the charge of murderto entrust the defence of his life to his hands, and finally took hismoney and got him hanged. Is this the man that is to raise a breezein his favor by abusing lawyers? ... If he is not a lawyer, he _is_a liar; for he proclaimed himself a lawyer, and got a man hanged bydepending on him. " Lincoln concluded: "Farewell, General. I will seeyou again at court, if not before--when and where we will settle thequestion whether you or the widow shall have the land. " The widow didget the land, but this was not the worst thing that happened to Adams. The climax was reached when the "Sangamo Journal" published a longeditorial (written by Lincoln, no doubt) on the controversy, andfollowed it with a copy of an indictment found against Adams in OswegoCounty, New York, in 1818. The offence charged in this indictment wasthe forgery of a deed by Adams--"a person of evil name and fame and ofa wicked disposition. " Lincoln's victory in this controversy undoubtedly did much to impressthe community, not necessarily that he was a good lawyer, but ratherthat he was a clever strategist and a fearless enemy. It was not, infact, as a lawyer that he was prominent in the first years after hecame to Springfield. Reëlected to the Assembly in 1838, and again in1840, his real impress on the community was made as a politician. The qualities which he had already shown in public life were onlystrengthened as he gained experience and self-confidence. He was theterror of the pretentious and insincere, and had a way of exposingtheir shams by clever tricks which, to voters, were unanswerablearguments. A case in point happened in 1840. It was considerednecessary, at that day, by a candidate to prove to the farmers thathe was poor and, like themselves, horny-handed. Those politicians whowore good clothes and dined sumptuously were careful to conceal theirregard for the elegancies of life from their constituents. One ofthe Democrats who in this campaign took particular pains to decry theWhigs for their wealth and aristocratic principles was Colonel DickTaylor, generally known in Illinois as "ruffled-shirt Taylor. " He wasa vain and handsome man, who habitually arrayed himself as gorgeouslyas the fashion allowed. One day when he and Lincoln had met in debateat a countryside gathering, Colonel Dick became particularly bitterin his condemnation of Whig elegance. Lincoln listened for a time, andthen, slipping near the speaker, suddenly caught his coat, whichwas buttoned up close, and tore it open. A mass of ruffled shirt, a gorgeous velvet vest, and a great gold chain from which danglednumerous rings and seals, were uncovered to the crowd. Lincoln neededto make no further reply that day to the charge of being a "ragbaron. " Lincoln loved fair play as he hated shams; and throughout these earlyyears in Springfield are examples of his boldness in insisting thatfriend and enemy have the chance due them. A most dramatic case ofthis kind occurred at a political meeting held one evening in theSpringfield court-room, which at that date was temporarily in a hallunder Stuart and Lincoln's law office. Directly over the platform wasa trap-door. Lincoln frequently would lie by this opening during ameeting, listening to the speeches. One evening one of his friends, E. D. Baker, in speaking angered the crowd, and an attempt was madeto "pull him down. " Before the assailants could reach the platform, however, a pair of long legs dangled from the trap-door, and in aninstant Lincoln dropped down beside Baker, crying out, "Hold on, gentlemen, this is a land of free speech. " His appearance was sounexpected, and his attitude so determined, that the crowd soon wasquiet, and Baker went on with his speech. In all the intellectual life of the town he took a place. With a fewof the leading young men he formed a young men's lyceum. One of hisspeeches before this body has been preserved in full. Its subject is"The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions. "[4] The speech hasnot, however, any of the peculiarly original style which usuallycharacterized his efforts. He came immediately to be a favorite figure in all sorts of localaffairs. What he said and did on these occasions is still recollectedby those interested in them. "When the seat of government was removedfrom Vandalia to Springfield in 1836, " says the Rev. Peter Wallaceof Chicago "I obtained the contract of taking down the court-house tomake a place for the State House. Lincoln, with others, was presentto receive the job. 'Peter, ' he said to me, 'if you succeed as wellin building houses as you have in tearing this one down, you will makeyour mark as a builder. '" Mr. Wallace tells, too, of hearing Lincolnsay in a speech, at the funeral of one of their friends: "I read in abook whose author never errs, 'Woe unto you when all men shall speakwell of you. ' Our friend will escape that woe, for he would be theexception had he no enemies. " The most pleasing feature of his early life in the town was the way inwhich he attached all classes of people to him. He naturally, from hispolitical importance and from his relation to Mr. Stuart, was admittedto the most exclusive circle of society. But Lincoln was not receivedthere from tolerance of his position only. The few members left ofthat interesting circle of Springfield in the thirties are emphatic intheir statements that he was recognized as a valuable social factor. If indifferent to forms and little accustomed to conventional usages, he had a native dignity and self-respect which stamped him at once asa superior man. He had a good will, an easy adaptability to people, which made him take a hand in everything that went on. His nameappears in every list of banqueters and merry-makers reported in theSpringfield papers. He even served as committee-man for cotillionparties. "We liked Lincoln, though he was not gay, " said one charmingand cultivated old lady to me in Springfield. "He rarely danced, hewas never very attentive to ladies, but he was always a welcome guesteverywhere, and the centre of a circle of animated talkers. Indeed, Ithink the only thing we girls had against Lincoln was that he alwaysattracted all the men around him. " Lincoln's kindly interest and perfectly democratic feeling attached tohim many people whom he never met save on the streets. Indeed his lifein the streets of Springfield is a most touching and delightful study. He concerned himself in the progress of every building which was putup, of every new street which was opened; he passed nobody withoutrecognition; he seemed always to have time to stop and talk. Hebecame, in fact, part of Springfield street life, just as he had ofthe town's politics and society. By 1840 there was no man in the townbetter known, better liked, more sought for; though there were morethan one whose future was considered brighter. * * * * * [Footnote 1: Reminiscences of Mr. Weir, a former resident of SangamonCounty, related by E. B. Howell of Butte, Montana. ] [Footnote 2: Summary condensed from Moses's "History of Illinois. "] [Footnote 3: The original of this letter is owned by E. R. Oeltjen ofPetersburg, Illinois. ] [Footnote 4: Lincoln's address on "The Perpetuation of Our PoliticalInstitutions" is dated January 27, 1837, in most biographies, butit was published in the "Sangamo Journal" of February 3, 1838. Theaddress is preceded by the following resolution: "YOUNG MEN'S LYCEUM, SPRINGFIELD, _January 27, 1837[8]_. "_Resolved_, That the thanks of this Lyceum be presented to A. Lincoln, Esq. , for the lecture delivered by him this evening, and that he be solicited to furnish a copy for publication. "JAS. H. MATHENY, _Secretary_" The confusion as to the date of the delivery of this address evidentlyarises from the fact that the resolution here quoted bears the date of"1837"--a mere slip of the pen, of course. In January, 1837, Lincolnwas in the legislature at Vandalia. He had not yet become a residentof Springfield. According to Mr. Herndon, who was a member of theYoung Men's Lyceum, that society was not formed until the fall of1837. ] [Illustration: THE WAVE "WENT OUT IN THREE SURGES, MAKING A CLEANSWEEP OF A BOAT. "] THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF. BY RUDYARD KIPLING, Author of "The Jungle Book, " "Plain Tales from the Hills, " etc. It was her first voyage, and though she was only a little cargosteamer of two thousand five hundred tons, she was the very best ofher kind, the outcome of forty years of experiments and improvementsin framework and machinery; and her designers and owners thought justas much of her as though she had been the "Lucania. " Any one can makea floating hotel that will pay her expenses, if he only puts enoughmoney into the saloon, and charges for private baths, suites of rooms, and such like; but in these days of competition and low freights everysquare inch of a cargo boat must be built for cheapness, great holdcapacity, and a certain steady speed. This boat was perhapstwo hundred and forty feet long and thirty-two feet wide, witharrangements that enabled her to carry cattle on her main and sheep onher upper deck if she wanted to; but her great glory was the amount ofcargo that she could store away in her holds. Her owners--they werea very well-known Scotch family--came round with her from the North, where she had been launched and christened and fitted, to Liverpool, where she was to take cargo for New York; and the owner's daughter, Miss Frazier, went to and fro on the clean decks, admiring the newpaint and the brass-work and the patent winches, and particularly thestrong, straight bow, over which she had cracked a bottle of verygood champagne when she christened the steamer the "Dimbula. " It wasa beautiful September afternoon, and the boat in all her newness (shewas painted lead color, with a red funnel) looked very fine indeed. Her house flag was flying, and her whistle from time to timeacknowledged the salutes of friendly boats, who saw that she was newto the sea and wished to make her welcome. "And now, " said Miss Frazier, delightedly, to the captain, "she'sa real ship, isn't she? It seems only the other day father gave theorder for her, and now--and now--isn't she a beauty?" The girl wasproud of the firm, and talked as though she were the controllingpartner. "Oh, she's no so bad, " the skipper replied, cautiously. "But I'msayin' that it takes more than the christenin' to mak' a ship. In thenature o' things, Miss Frazier, if ye follow me, she's just irons andrivets and plates put into the form of a ship. She has to find herselfyet. " "But I thought father said she was exceptionally well found. " "So she is, " said the skipper, with a laugh. "But it's this way wi'ships, Miss Frazier. She's all here, but the parts of her have notlearned to work together yet. They've had no chance. " "But the engines are working beautifully. I can hear them. " "Yes, indeed. But there is more than engines to a ship. Every inch ofher, ye'll understand, has to be livened up, and made to work wi' itsneighbor--sweetenin' her, we call it, technically. " "And how will you do it?" the girl asked. "We can no more than drive and steer her and so forth; but if we haverough weather this trip--it's likely--she'll learn the rest by heart!For a ship, ye'll obsairve, Miss Frazier, is in no sense a reegidbody, closed at both ends. She's a highly complex structure o' variousan' conflictin' strains, wi' tissues that must give an' tak' accordin'to her personal modulus of eelasteecity. " Mr. Buchanan, the chiefengineer, in his blue coat with gilt buttons, was coming toward them. "I'm sayin' to Miss Frazier, here, that our little 'Dimbula' has to besweetened yet, and nothin' but a gale will do it. How's all wi' yourengines, Buck?" "Well enough--true by plumb an' rule, of course; but there's nospontaneeity yet. " He turned to the girl. "Take my word, MissFrazier, and maybe ye'll comprehend later, even after a pretty girl'schristened a ship it does not follow that there's such a thing as aship under the men that work her. " "I was sayin' the very same, Mr. Buchanan, " the skipper interrupted. "That's more metaphysical than I can follow, " said Miss Frazier, laughing. "Why so? Ye're good Scotch, an'--I knew your mother's father; he wasfra' Dumfries--ye've a vested right in metapheesics, Miss Frazier, just as ye have in the 'Dimbula, '" the engineer said. "Eh, well, we must go down to the deep watters, an' earn Miss Frazierher deevidends. Will you not come to my cabin for tea?" said theskipper. "We'll be in dock the night, and when you're goin' back toGlasgie ye can think of us loadin' her down an' drivin' her forth--allfor your sake. " In the next four days they stowed nearly four thousand tons deadweight into the "Dimbula, " and took her out from Liverpool. As soon asshe met the lift of the open water she naturally began to talk. Ifyou put your ear to the side of the cabin the next time you are in asteamer, you will hear hundreds of little voices in every direction, thrilling and buzzing, and whispering and popping, and gurgling andsobbing and squeaking exactly like a telephone in a thunder storm. Wooden ships shriek and growl and grunt, but iron vessels throb andquiver through all their hundreds of ribs and thousands of rivets. The"Dimbula" was very strongly built, and every piece of her had a letteror a number or both to describe it, and every piece had been hammeredor forged or rolled or punched by man and had lived in the roar andrattle of the shipyard for months. Therefore, every piece had its ownseparate voice in exact proportion to the amount of trouble spent uponit. Cast iron, as a rule, says very little; but mild steel plates andwrought iron, and ribs and beams that have been bent and welded andriveted a good deal, talk continuously. Their conversation, of course, is not half as wise as human talk, because they are all, though theydo not know it, bound down one to the other in black darkness, wherethey cannot tell what is happening near them, nor what is going tohappen next. A very short while after she had cleared the Irish coast a sullen, gray-headed old wave of the Atlantic climbed leisurely over herstraight bows, and sat down on the steam capstan, used for haulingup the anchor. Now, the capstan and the engine that drove it had beennewly painted red and green; besides which, nobody cares for beingducked. "Don't you do that again, " the capstan sputtered through the teeth ofhis cogs. "Hi! Where's the fellow gone?" The wave had slouched overside with a plop and a chuckle; but "Plentymore where he came from, " said a brother wave, and went through andover the capstan, who was bolted firmly to an iron plate on the irondeck beams below. [Illustration: THE "DIMBULA" TAKING CARGO FOR HER FIRST VOYAGE. ] "Can't you keep still up there, " said the deck beams. "What's thematter with you? One minute you weigh twice as much as you ought to, and the next you don't. " "It isn't my fault, " said the capstan. "There's a green brute fromoutside that comes and hits me on the head. " "Tell that to the shipwrights. You've been in position up there formonths, and you've never wriggled like this before. If you aren'tcareful you'll strain _us_. " "Talking of strain, " said a low, rasping, unpleasant voice, "are anyof you fellows--you deck beams, we mean--aware that those exceedinglyugly knees of yours happen to be riveted into our structure--_ours_?" "Who might you be?" the deck beams inquired. "Oh, nobody in particular, " was the answer. "We're only the port andstarboard upper-deck stringers; and, if you persist in heaving andhiking like this, we shall be reluctantly compelled to take steps. " Now, the stringers of the ship are long iron girders, so to speak, that run lengthways from stern to bow. They keep the iron frames (whatare called ribs in a wooden ship) in place, and also help to holdthe ends of the deck beams which go from side to side of the ship. Stringers always consider themselves most important, because they areso long. In the "Dimbula" there were four stringers on each side--onefar down by the bottom of the hold, called the bilge stringer; one alittle higher up, called the side stringer; one on the floor of thelower deck; and the upper-deck stringers that have been heard fromalready. "You will take steps, will you?" This was a long, echoing rumble. It came from the frames; scores and scores of them, each one abouteighteen inches distant from the next, and each riveted to thestringers in four places. "We think you will have a certain amount oftrouble in _that_;" and thousands and thousands of the little rivetsthat held everything together whispered: "You will! You will! Stopquivering and be quiet. Hold on, brethren! Hold on! Hot punches!What's that?" Rivets have no teeth, so they can't chatter with fright; but they didtheir best as a fluttering jar swept along the ship from stern to bow, and she shook like a rat in a terrier's mouth. An unusually severe pitch, for the sea was rising, had lifted the bigthrobbing screw nearly to the surface, and it was spinning round in akind of soda water--half sea and half air--going much faster than wasright, because there was no deep water for it to work in. As it sankagain, the engines--and they were triple-expansion, three cylinders ina row--snorted through all their three pistons: "Was that a joke, youfellow outside? It's an uncommonly poor one. How are we to do _our_work if you fly off the handle that way?" "I didn't fly off the handle, " said the screw, twirling huskily atthe end of the screw shaft. "If I had, _you'd_ have been scrap ironby this time. The sea dropped away from under me, and I had nothing tocatch on to. That's all. " "That's all, d'you call it?" said the thrust-block, whose business itis to take the push of the screw; for if a screw had nothing to holdit back it would crawl right into the engine room. (It is the holdingback of the screwing action that gives the drive to a ship. ) "I knowI do my work deep down and out of sight, but I warn you I expectjustice. All _I_ ask is justice. Why can't you push steadily andevenly, instead of whizzing like a whirligig and making me hot underall my collars?" The thrust-block had six collars, each faced withbrass, and he did not want to get them heated. All the bearings that supported the fifty feet of screw shaft as itran to the stern whispered: "Justice--give us justice. " "I can only give you what I get, " the screw answered. "Look out! It'scoming again!" He rose with a roar as the "Dimbula" plunged; and"whack--whack--whack--whack" went the engines furiously, for they hadlittle to check them. "I'm the noblest outcome of human ingenuity--Mr. Buchanan says so, "squealed the high-pressure cylinder. "This is simply ridiculous. " Thepiston went up savagely and choked, for half the steam behind itwas mixed with dirty water. "Help! Oiler! Fitter! Stoker! Help! I'mchoking, " it gasped. "Never in the history of maritime invention hassuch a calamity overtaken one so young and strong. And if I go, who'sto drive the ship?" "Hush! oh, hush!" whispered the steam, who, of course, had been to seamany times before. He used to spend his leisure ashore, in a cloud, ora gutter, or a flower-pot, or a thunder storm, or anywhere else wherewater was needed. "That's only a little priming, as they call it. It'll happen all night, on and off. I don't say it's nice, but it'sthe best we can do under the circumstances. " "What difference can circumstances make? I'm here to do my work--onclean, dry steam. Blow circumstances!" the cylinder roared. "The circumstances will attend to the blowing. I've worked on theNorth Atlantic run a good many times--it's going to be rough beforemorning. " "It isn't distressingly calm now, " said the extra strong frames, theywere called web frames, in the engine room. "There's an upward thrustthat we don't understand, and there's a twist that is very bad for ourbrackets and diamond plates, and there's a sort of northwestward pullthat follows the twist, which seriously annoys us. We mention thisbecause _we_ happened to cost a great deal of money, and we feelsure that the owner would not approve of our being treated in thisfrivolous way. " "I'm afraid the matter's out of the owner's hands for the present, "said the steam, slipping into the condenser. "You're left to your owndevices till the weather betters. " "I wouldn't mind the weather, " said a flat bass voice deep below;"it's this confounded cargo that's breaking my heart. I'm the garboardstrake, and I'm twice as thick as most of the others, and I ought toknow something. " The garboard strake is the very bottom-most plate in the bottom ofa ship, and the "Dimbula's" garboard strake (she was a flat-bottomedboat) was nearly three-quarters of an inch mild steel. "The sea pushes me up in a way I should never have expected, " thestrake went on, "and the cargo pushes me down, and between the two Idon't know what I'm supposed to do. " "When in doubt, hold on, " rumbled the steam, making head in theboilers. "Yes, but there's only dark and cold and hurry down here, and how doI know whether the other plates are doing their duty? Those bulwarkplates up above, I've heard, aren't more than five-sixteenths of aninch thick--scandalous, I call it. " "I agree with you, " said a huge web frame by the main cargo hatch. Hewas deeper and thicker than all the others, and curved half-way acrossthe ship's side in the shape of half an arch, to support the deckwhere deck beams would have been in the way of cargo coming up anddown. "I work entirely unsupported, and I observe that I am thesole strength of this vessel, so far as my vision extends. Theresponsibility, I assure you, is enormous. I believe the money valueof the cargo is over one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Think ofthat!" "And every pound of it dependent on my personal exertions. " Here spokea sea-valve that communicated directly with the water outside and wasseated not very far from the garboard strake. "I rejoice to think thatI am a Prince-Hyde valve, with best Para rubber facings. Five patentscover me--I mention this without pride--five separate and severalpatents, each one finer than the other. At present I am screwedfast. Should I open, you would immediately be swamped. This isincontrovertible!" Patent things always use the longest words they can. It is a trickthey pick up from their inventors. "That's news, " said a big centrifugal bilge pump. "I had an idea thatyou were employed to clean decks and things with. At least, I've usedyou for that more than once. I forget the precise number in thousandsof gallons which I am guaranteed to pump in an hour; but I assure you, my complaining friends, that there is not the least danger. _I_ aloneam capable of clearing any water that may find its way here. By mybiggest delivery, we pitched then!" The sea was getting up in workmanlike style. It was a dead westerlygale, blown from under a ragged opening of green sky, narrowed on allsides by fat gray clouds; and the wind bit like pincers, as it frettedthe spray into lace-work on the heads of the waves. "I tell you what it is, " the foremast telephoned down its wire stays. "I'm up here, and I can take a dispassionate view of things. There'san organized conspiracy against us. I'm sure of it, because everysingle one of these waves is heading directly for our bows. The wholesea is concerned in it--and so's the wind. It's awful!" "What's awful?" said a wave, drowning the capstan for the hundredthtime. "This organized conspiracy on your part, " the capstan gurgled, takinghis cue from the mast. "Organized bubbles and spindrift! There has been a depression in theGulf of Mexico. Excuse me!" He leaped overside; but his friends tookup the tale one after another. "Which has advanced--" _That_ wave threw green over the funnel. "As far as Cape Hatteras--" _He_ drenched the bridge. "And is now going out to sea--to sea--to sea!" _He_ went out in threesurges, making a clean sweep of a boat, which turned bottom up andsank in the darkening troughs alongside. "That's all there is to it, " seethed the broken water, roaringthrough the scuppers. "There's no animus in our proceedings. We're ameteorological corollary. " "Is it going to get any worse?" said the bow anchor, chained down tothe deck, where he could only breathe once in five minutes. "Not knowing, can't say. Wind may blow a bit by midnight. Thanksawfully. Good-by. " The wave that spoke so politely had travelled some distance aft, andgot itself all mixed up on the deck amidships, which was a well decksunk between high bulwarks. One of the bulwark plates, which was hungon hinges to open outward, had swung out, and passed the bulk of thewater back to the sea again with a wop. "Evidently that's what I'm made for, " said the plate, shutting upagain with a sputter of pride. "Oh, no, you don't, my friend!" The top of a wave was trying to get in from outside, but the plate didnot open in that direction, and the defeated water spurted back. "Not bad for five-sixteenths of an inch, " said the bulwark plate. "Mywork, I see, is laid down for the night;" and it began opening andshutting, as it was designed to do, with the motion of the ship. "We are not what you might call idle, " groaned all the framestogether, as the "Dimbula" climbed a big wave, lay on her side at thetop, and shot into the next hollow, twisting as she descended. A hugeswell pushed up exactly under her middle, and her bow and stern hungfree, with nothing to support them, and then one joking wave caughther up at the bow, and another at the stern, while the rest of thewater fell away from under her, just to see how she would like it, andshe was held up at the two ends, and the weight of the cargo and themachinery fell on the groaning iron keels and bilge stringers. "Ease off! Ease off there!" roared the garboard strake. "I want aneighth of an inch play. D'you hear me, you young rivets!" "Ease off! ease off!" cried the bilge stringers. "Don't hold us sotight to the frames!" "Ease off!" grunted the deck beams, as the "Dimbula" rolled fearfully. "You've cramped our knees into the stringers and we can't move. Easeoff, you flat-headed little nuisances. " [Illustration: "AN UNUSUALLY SEVERE PITCH ... HAD LIFTED THE BIGTHROBBING SCREW NEARLY TO THE SURFACE. "] Then two converging seas hit the bows, one on each side, and fell awayin torrents of streaming thunder. "Ease off!" shouted the forward collision bulkhead. "I want to crumpleup, but I'm stiffened in every direction. Ease off, you dirty littleforge filings. Let me breathe!" All the hundreds of plates that are riveted on to the frames, and makethe outside skin of every steamer, echoed the call, for each platewanted to shift and creep a little, and each plate, according to itsposition, complained against the rivets. "We can't help it! _We_ can't help it!" they murmured. "We're put hereto hold you, and we're going to do it. You never pull us twice in thesame direction. If you'd say what you were going to do next, we'd tryto meet your views. " "As far as I could feel, " said the upper-deck planking, and that wasfour inches thick, "every single iron near me was pushing or pullingin opposite directions. Now, what's the sense of that? My friends, letus all pull together. " "Pull any way you please. " roared the funnel, "so long as you don'ttry your experiments on _me_. I need fourteen wire ropes, all pullingin opposite directions, to hold me steady. Isn't that so?" "We believe you, my boy!" whistled the funnel stays through theirclenched teeth, as they twanged in the wind from the top of the funnelto the deck. "Nonsense! We must all pull together, " the decks repeated. "Pulllengthways. " "Very good, " said the stringers; "then stop pushing sideways when youget wet. Be content to run gracefully fore and aft, and curve in atthe ends as we do. " "No, no curves at the end. A very slight workmanlike curve from sideto side, with a good grip at each knee, and little pieces welded on, "said the deck beams. "Fiddle!" said the iron pillars of the deep, dark hold. "Who everheard of curves? Stand up straight; be a perfectly round column, andcarry tons of good solid weight. Like that! There!" A big sea smashedon to the deck above, and the pillars stiffened themselves to theload. "Straight up and down is not bad, " said the frames who run that wayin the sides of the ship, "but you must also expand yourself sideways. Expansion is the law of life, children. Open out! Open out!" "Come back!" said the deck beam, savagely, as the upward heave ofthe sea made the frames try to open. "Come back to your bearings, youslack-jawed irons!" "Rigidity! Rigidity! Rigidity!" thumped the engines. "Absolute, unvarying rigidity--rigidity!" "You see!" whined the rivets in chorus. "No two of you will ever pullalike, and--and you blame it all on us. We only know how to go througha plate and bite down on both sides so that it can't and mustn't andsha'n't move. " "I've got one-sixteenth of an inch play at any rate, " said thegarboard strake triumphantly; and so he had, and all the bottom of theship felt a good deal easier for it. "Then we're no good, " sobbed the bottom rivets. "We were ordered--wewere _ordered_--never to give, and we've given, and the sea will comein, and we'll all go to the bottom together! First we're blamed foreverything unpleasant, and now we haven't the consolation of havingdone our work. " "Don't say I told you, " whispered the steam consolingly; "but, betweenyou and me and the cloud I last came from, it was bound to happensooner or later. You _had_ to give a fraction, and you've givenwithout knowing it. Now hold on, as before. " "What's the use?" a few hundred rivets chattered. "We've given--we'vegiven; and the sooner we confess that we can't keep the ship togetherand go off our little heads, the easier it will be. No rivet forgedcould stand this strain. " "No one rivet was ever meant to. Share it among you, " the steamanswered. "The others can have my share. I'm going to pull out, " said a rivet inone of the forward plates. "If you go, others will follow, " hissed the steam. "There's nothing socontagious in a boat as rivets going. Why, I knew a little chap likeyou--he was an eighth of an inch fatter, though--on a steamer--to besure, she was only twelve tons, now I come to think of it--in exactlythe same place as you are. _He_ pulled out in a bit of a bobble of asea, not half as bad as this, and he started all his friends on thesame butt-strap, and the plate opened like a furnace door, and I hadto climb into the nearest fog bank while the boat went down. " "Now that's peculiarly disgraceful, " said the rivet. "Fatter than me, was he, and in a steamer not half our tonnage? Reedy little peg! Iblush for the family, sir. " He settled himself more firmly than everin his place, and the steam chuckled. "You see, " he went on quite gravely, "a rivet, and especially a rivetin _your_ position, is really the _one_ indispensable part of theship. " The steam did not say that he had whispered the very same thingto every single piece of iron aboard. There is no sense in telling toomuch. And all that while the little "Dimbula" pitched and chopped and swungand slewed, and lay down as though she were going to die, and got upas though she had been stung, and threw her nose round and round incircles half a dozen times as she dipped, for the gale was at itsworst. It was inky black, in spite of the tearing white froth on thewaves, and, to top everything, the rain began to fall in sheets, sothat you could not see your hand before your face. This did not makemuch difference to the iron-work below, but it troubled the foremast agood deal. "Now it's all finished, " he said, dismally. "The conspiracy is toostrong for us. There is nothing left but to--" "Hurraar! Brrrraaah! Brrrrrrp!" roared the steam through the foghorn, till the decks quivered. "Don't be frightened below. It's only me, just throwing out a few words in case any one happens to be rollinground to-night, " "You don't mean to say there's any one except _us_ on the sea in suchweather?" said the funnel, in a husky snuffle. "Scores of 'em, " said the steam, clearing its throat. "Rrrrrraaa!Brraaaaa! Prrrrp! It's a trifle windy up here; and, great boilers, howit rains!" "We're drowning, " said the scuppers. They had been doing nothing elseall night, but this steady thresh of rain above them seemed to be theend of the world. "That's all right. We'll be easier in an hour or two. First thewind and then the rain; soon you may make sail again! Grrraaaaah!Drrrraaaa! Drrrrrp! I have a notion that the sea is going downalready. If it does you'll learn something about rolling. We've onlypitched till now. By the way, aren't you chaps in the hold a littleeasier than you were?" There was just as much groaning and straining as ever, but it was notso loud or squeaky in tone; and when the ship quivered she did notjar stiffly, like a poker hit on the floor, but gave a supple littlewaggle, like a perfectly balanced golf club. "We have made a most amazing discovery, " said the stringers, one afteranother; "a discovery that entirely changes the situation. We havefound, for the first time in the history of shipbuilding, that theinward pull of the deck beams and the outward thrust of the frameslocks us, as it were, more closely in our places, and enables us toendure a strain which is entirely without parallel in the records ofmarine architecture. " The steam turned a laugh quickly into a roar up the foghorn. "Whatmassive intellects you great stringers have!" he said, softly, when hehad finished. "We, also, " began the deck beams, "are discoverers and geniuses. Weare of opinion that the support of the hold-pillars materially helps_us_. We find that we lock upon them when we are subjected to a heavyand singular weight of sea above. " Here the "Dimbula" shot down a hollow, lying almost on her side, andrighting at the bottom with a wrench and a spasm. "In these cases--are you aware of this, steam?--the plating at thebows, and particularly at the stern, --we would also mention the floorsbeneath us, --helps _us_ to resist any tendency to spring. " It was theframes who were speaking in the solemn and awed voice which people usewhen they have just come across something entirely new for the veryfirst time. "I'm only a poor, puffy little flutterer, " said the steam, "but I haveto stand a good deal of pressure in my business. It's all tremendouslyinteresting. Tell us some more. You fellows are _so_ strong. " "You'll see, " said the bow plates proudly. "Ready behind there! Here'sthe father and mother of waves coming! Sit tight, rivets all!" Thegreat sluicing comber thundered by, but through all the scuffle andconfusion the steam could hear the low, quick cries of the iron-workas the various strains took them--cries like these: "Easy now, easy!_Now_ push for all your strength! Hold out! Give a fraction! Hold up!Pull in! Shove crossways! Mind the strain at the ends! Grip now! Bitetight! Let the water get away from under, and there she goes. " The wave raced off into the darkness shouting, "Not bad that, if it'syour first run!" and the drenched and ducked ship throbbed to the beatof the engines inside her. All three cylinders were wet and white withthe salt spray that had come down through the engine-room hatch; therewas white salt on the canvas-bound steam pipes, and even the brightwork below was speckled and soiled; but the cylinders had learned tomake the most of steam that was half water, and were pounding alongcheerfully. "How's the noblest outcome of human ingenuity hitting it?" said thesteam, as he whirled through the engine room. "Nothing for nothing in the world of woe, " the cylinders answered, as if they had been working for centuries, "and precious little forseventy-five pounds head. We've made two knots this last hour and aquarter! Rather humiliating for eight hundred horse-power, isn't it?" "Well, it's better than drifting astern, at any rate. You seem ratherless--how shall I put it?--stiff in the back than you were. " "If you'd been hammered as we've been this night, you wouldn't bestiff--ffreff--ff--either. Theoreti--retti--retti--cally, of course, rigidity is _the_ thing. Purr--purr--practically, there has to be alittle give and take. _We_ found that out by working on our sides forfive minutes at a stretch--chch--chh. How's the weather?" "Sea's going down fast, " said the steam. "Good business, " said the high-pressure cylinder. "Whack her up along, boys. They've given us five pounds more steam;" and he began hummingthe first bars of "Said the young Obadiah to the old Obadiah, " which, as you must have noticed, is a pet tune among engines not made forhigh speed. Racing liners with twin screws sing "The Turkish Patrol"and the overture to the "Bronze Horse" and "Madame Angot, " tillsomething goes wrong, and then they give Gounod's "Funeral March of aMarionette" with variations. "You'll learn a song of your own some fine day, " said the steam, as heflew up the foghorn for one last bellow. Next day the sky cleared and the sea dropped a little, and the"Dimbula" began to roll from side to side till every inch of iron inher was sick and giddy. But, luckily, they did not all feel ill at thesame time; otherwise she would have opened out like a wet paper box. The steam whistled warnings as he went about his business, for it isin this short, quick roll and tumble that follows a heavy sea thatmost of the accidents happen; because then everything thinks that theworst is over and goes off guard. So he orated and chattered till thebeams and frames and floors and stringers and things had learned howto lock down and lock up on one another, and endure this new kind ofstrain. They had ample time, for they were sixteen days at sea, and it wasfoul weather till within a hundred miles of New York. The "Dimbula"picked up her pilot, and came in covered with salt and red rust. Herfunnel was dirty gray from top to bottom; two boats had been carriedaway; three copper ventilators looked like hats after a fight with thepolice; the bridge had a dimple in the middle of it; the house thatcovered the steam steering-gear was split as with hatchets; therewas a bill for small repairs in the engine room almost as long as thescrew-shaft; the forward cargo hatch fell into bucket staves whenthey raised the iron crossbars; and the steam capstan had been badlywrenched on its bed. Altogether, as the skipper said, it was "a prettygeneral average. " "But she's soupled, " he said to Mr. Buchanan. "For all her deadweight, she rode like a yacht. Ye mind that last blow off the Banks? Iwas proud of her. " "It's vara good, " said the chief engineer, looking along thedishevelled decks. "Now, a man judging superficially would say we werea wreck, but we know otherwise--by experience. " Naturally, everything in the "Dimbula" stiffened with pride, andthe foremast and the forward collision bulkhead, who are pushingcreatures, begged the steam to warn the port of New York of theirarrival. "Tell those big boats all about us, " they said. "They seem totake us quite as a matter of course. " It was a glorious, clear, dead calm morning, and in single file, withless than half a mile between each, their bands playing, andtheir tugboats shouting and waving handkerchiefs beneath, were the"Majestic, " the "Paris, " the "Touraine, " the "Servia, " the "KaiserWilhelm II. " and the "Werkendam, " all statelily going out to sea. Asthe "Dimbula" shifted her helm to give the great boats clear way, thesteam (who knows far too much to mind making an exhibition of himselfnow and then) shouted: "Oyez! oyez! oyez! Princes, Dukes, and Barons of the High Seas! Knowye by these presents we are the 'Dimbula, ' fifteen days nine hours outfrom Liverpool, having crossed the Atlantic with four thousand ton ofcargo for the first time in our career. We have not foundered! We arehere! Eer! eer! We are not disabled. But we have had a time whollyunparalleled in the annals of shipbuilding. Our decks were swept. Wepitched, we rolled! We thought we were going to die! Hi! hi! But wedidn't! We wish to give notice that we have come to New York all theway across the Atlantic, through the worst weather in the world; andwe are the 'Dimbula. ' We are--arr--ha--ha--ha-r-r!" The beautiful line of boats swept by as steadily as the procession ofthe seasons. The "Dimbula" heard the "Majestic" say "Humph!" and the"Paris" grunted "How!" and the "Touraine" said "Oui!" with a littlecoquettish flicker of steam; and the "Servia" said "Haw!" and the"Kaiser" and the "Werkendam" said "Hoch!" Dutch fashion--and that wasabsolutely all. "I did my best, " said the steam, gravely, "but I don't think they weremuch impressed with us, somehow. Do you?" "It's simply disgusting, " said the bow-plates. "They might haveseen what we've been through. There isn't a ship on the sea that hassuffered as we have--is there now?" "Well, I wouldn't go so far as that, " said the steam, "because I'veworked on some of those boats, and put them through weather quite asbad as we've had in six days; and some of them are a little over tenthousand tons, I believe. Now, I've seen the 'Majestic, ' for instance, ducked from her bows to her funnel, and I've helped the 'Arizona, ' Ithink she was, to back off an iceberg she met with one dark night; andI had to run out of the 'Paris's' engine room one day because therewas thirty foot of water in it. Of course, I don't deny--" The steamshut off suddenly as a tugboat, loaded with a political club and abrass band that had been to see a senator off to Europe, crossed thebows, going to Hoboken. There was a long silence, that reached withouta break from the cut-water to the propeller blades of the "Dimbula. " Then one big voice said slowly and thickly, as though the owner hadjust waked up: "It's my conviction that I have made a fool of myself. " The steam knew what had happened at once; for when a ship findsherself, all the talking of the separate pieces ceases and melts intoone deep voice, which is the soul of the ship. "Who are you?" he said, with a laugh. "I am the 'Dimbula, ' of course. I've never been anything else exceptthat--and a fool. " The tugboat, which was doing its very best to be run down, got awayjust in time, and its band was playing clashily and brassily a popularbut impolite air: In the days of old Rameses--are you on? In the days of old Rameses--are you on? In the days of old Rameses, That story had paresis-- Are you on--are you on--are you on? "Well, I'm glad you've found yourself, " said the steam. "To tell thetruth, I was a little tired of talking to all those ribs of stringers. Here's quarantine. After that we'll go to our wharf and clean up alittle, and next month we'll do it all over again. " A CENTURY OF PAINTING. NOTES DESCRIPTIVE AND CRITICAL. --GOYA AND HIS CAREER. --FOUR ENGLISHPAINTERS OF FAMILIAR LIFE. --GÉRICAULT, INGRES, AND DELACROIX. BY WILL H. LOW. Looking backward to the first quarter of this century, it is hardlytoo sweeping an assertion to say that, with a single exception, therewas little that was important in the way of painting outside of Franceand England. There were local reputations in all the other countries, practitioners of the art who joined to a respectable proficiency inpainting an adhesion to the traditions which had been handed down tothem. These men, in their time and place, were notable; and inthe museums of their respective countries their works remain ofchronological interest to students of painting. But to the largerpublic which these papers address, they are of little importance, having exercised but slight influence on contemporaneous art. The exception already noted was in Spain, and there only in the caseof a single painter. Francisco Goya y Lucientes, "Pintor Español, " ashe delighted to call himself, would be, indeed has been, a fascinatingsubject for picturesque biography. Charles Yriarte, the well-knownFrench art critic, has given the world a most interesting and completestory of Goya's life, which, though it is only separated from our ownday by a span of seventy years, chronicles the exploits of one whoin the history of art must hark back to Benvenuto Cellini in thesixteenth century to find his parallel. Goya was born March 31, 1746, at Fuente de Todos, in the province ofAragon. The son of a small farmer, he was placed when very youngin the local Academy of Fine Arts at Saragossa, where he receivedinstruction from Bayen and Luzan, painters little known outside ofSpain. The swashbuckler instincts which were to govern him throughlife manifested themselves here, where in a street brawl he laid lowthree of his adversaries. He found it prudent to evade both justiceand the vengeance which followed swift and sure in those days inSpain, by flying to Madrid. Soon after his arrival in the capital, however, in continuation of his old mode of life, he was picked up fordead in one of the low quarters of the town. Surviving the poignard, but again threatened with arrest, he joined a _quadrilla_ ofbull-fighters, in whose company he went from town to town, givingexhibitions of his prowess in the national sport. [Illustration: THE GARROTED MAN. FROM AN ETCHING BY GOYA. There is a tradition that this etching was made from nature, themodel--some malefactor executed by the strangling method employed inSpain--being studied by Goya from his chamber window. ] With all this, painting must have been somewhat of an interlude;but Goya had early shown signs of great talent, and before he leftSaragossa, his master, Josepha Bayen, had confidence enough inhis future to entrust the happiness of his daughter to his care bypermitting his marriage to her. Goya's biographer notes that throughall the various adventures of his career he had the utmost care forthe material comfort of this lady. Her character must impress usto-day as charitable to excess; for, shortly after the bull-fightingepisode, Goya found himself in Rome, where his next exploit was theabduction, from a convent, of a noble Roman girl. With the police oncemore on his track, he sought refuge at the Spanish Embassy, whencehe was despatched home in disguise, probably to the relief of hiscountry's representative in Rome. Before this adventure, which wasonly one of many which the charitable wife had to pardon, he hadattracted the attention of David, who was then in Italy, and who, as his art differed in every way from that of Goya, must have beenstrongly impressed by his work to give it his approval. [Illustration: DEATH ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. FROM AN ETCHING BY GOYA. One of the plates from the "Disasters of War" where the grotesque andhuge figure of Death appears to the combatants. ] On arriving home Goya was given employment in designing a series oftapestries for the royal palace; and from 1780, when he was made amember of the Spanish Royal Academy, ensues the period of hisgreatest artistic activity. Carrying into his art the same excessof temperament which marked his life, his execution was rapid anddecisive. Rebellious to the ordinary means employed by painters, heused various mediums, some of which have ill withstood the ravages oftime; and, disdaining brushes, he often employed sponges or bits ofrag in their place. In the case of one of his pictures, a revolt ofthe Madrilenians against the French, it is said that he employed aspoon. In 1799 Goya was made painter to the king, Charles III. , whosesuccessor, the fourth of his name, continued his favor. The time, which was that of the notorious "Prince of Peace, " Godoy, wasfavorable for a character like that of Goya, whose eccentricities werelooked upon with an indulgent eye by a court which must have feltthat its function was hardly that of moral censor. At least Goya, theintimate of Maria Louisa and the court circle, by no means abandonedhis friends the bull-fighters and tavern-keepers. Fresh from analtar-piece for a cathedral, or a royal portrait, his ready brushfound employment in rapidly painting a street scene, or even a signfor a wine-shop. A whitewashed wall for canvas and mud from the gutterfor pigment, were the means employed to embody a patriotic theme atthe entrance of the French soldiers into Madrid--a popular masterpieceexecuted to the plaudits of the crowd. All this would seem to denote a charlatan; yet withal, Goya has fairlywon his place amid the great painters of the world. Perhaps no betterexample could be found of the essential difference between the outwardand visible actions of a man and the inward and spiritual grace of anartist than in this instance; and the Latin standpoint, always moreintellectually liberal than our own Anglo-Saxon appreciation of thesame problem furnishes the reason why Goya was left free to pursue hisartistic career instead of languishing in prison. His illogical brushfilled the cathedrals of Saragossa, Seville, Toledo, and Valenciawith masterly frescoes, while with the etching needle he producedmany plates. Some of these, like the "Caprices, " a series of eightyetchings, are filled with imagination alternately tragical andgrotesque; while another series, representing bull-fights, throughoutits thirty-three plates depicts the incidents of the game with intenserealism. The "Disasters of War, " another series of eighty, wereinspired by the French invasion; and never, perhaps, were thecruelties of war more strenuously realized in art than in these. Probably these etchings, executed, like all his works, by methodspeculiar to himself, constitute his best title to remembrance. Buthis painting, replete though it be with the defects of his qualities, stands as a precursor of the great coloristic school of whichDelacroix was the head and front. This is notably to be felt in hisportraits, and in some of the rapidly executed single figures ofwhich the Louvre has a specimen and the Metropolitan Museum, New York, another--the latter, "A Jewess of Tangiers. " [Illustration: GOYA. FROM A PORTRAIT ETCHED BY HIMSELF. This portrait is the frontispiece to a series of etchings by Goya. ] Before leaving Goya for men whose works are their only history, a characteristic incident, which caused his flight from Spain toBordeaux in France, must be told. In 1814 Wellington was in Madridand sat for his portrait to Goya. After the first sitting, the soldierpresumed to criticise the work; whereat Goya, seizing a cutlass, attacked him, causing the future hero of Waterloo to flee for his lifefrom the maniacal fury of the painter. It is said that, later, peacewas made between the two men, and that the portrait was achieved;but for the moment Goya found safety in France, together with hislong-suffering wife, who had incidentally borne him twenty children. At the green old age of eighty-two Goya died at Bordeaux, April 16, 1828. [Illustration: ST. JUSTINA AND ST. RUFINA. FROM A PAINTING BY GOYA INTHE CATHEDRAL AT SEVILLE. These are the patron saints of Seville. The legend has it that theywere the daughters of a potter and followed their father's trade, giving away in charity, however, all that they earned more than wassufficient to supply their simple wants. At the time of a festivalto Venus, they were requested to supply the vessels to be used in herworship, and on their refusing, they were dragged before the prefect, who condemned them to death, July 19, A. D. 304. They are generallyrepresented with earthen vessels and the palms of martyrdom; in thiscase, the broken statue of Venus lies in the foreground. The Giraldatower, the chief ornament of Seville, and the prototype of the MadisonSquare tower in New York City, is their especial care, and it isbelieved that its preservation from lightning is due to them. ] No greater contrast could be devised than the four works which follow, either in the character of the art or in the uneventful respectabilityof the painters' lives. They are all typical of a class of pictureswhich has been popular in England, from the time of Hogarth to thepresent day. The earliest of them is the "Blind Fiddler" of Sir DavidWilkie, which was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1807. The dates atwhich the others, by Mulready, Webster, and Leslie, were painted wouldpreclude their appearance here, if strict chronological sequence wereimposed, as they were painted about 1840. It is instructive, however, to group them together, to show that these artists and theirfollowers, who were legion, thought at least as much of subject as ofmethod. Not that the latter quality is lacking. On the contrary, itis only too evident; but it is a method of convention. No one wouldimagine for a moment, in looking at any one of these pictures, thathe was admitted an unseen spectator to some scene of intimate familylife. It is this quality which the great Dutchmen in all their scenesof familiar life preserved; and when we look at a Pieter de Hooge, for instance, there is no suspicion that the homely scene has beenarranged for our delectation. In its transplantation from Holland, however, English art lost just this quality. David Wilkie, born in Scotland, at Cults in Fifeshire, November 18, 1785, came to London in 1805 to enter the Royal Academy schools, aftersome preliminary training at Edinburgh. His first picture, in theexhibition of 1806, "The Village Politicians, " attracted attention, and was followed the next year by "The Blind Fiddler. " The work ofa youth of twenty-two, it is remarkable for its close observationof character and the skilful use made of what may be termed thetheatrical faculty of grouping the personages so that their actiontells the story. This is not a merit, and there is little doubt thatthe scene would be greater as art were it more consistently human. Character is well and pictorially rendered; but by its insistence inevery figure, we feel that it is but a moment since the curtainwas withdrawn and the _tableau vivant_ shown. This and the picturesfollowing it met with the most unbounded popular approval, werereproduced by engraving, and exercised an influence increased by thehonors and fortune which were showered on the painter. In 1825 Wilkie made an extended continental tour, and three yearslater, after his return to England, changed his class of subjects forhistorical and portrait painting, bringing to these later themes thesame ability and the same lack of _naïveté_ which characterized hisformer work. A Royal Academician since 1811, he was appointed firstpainter in ordinary to the king, on the death of Lawrence, in 1830. Hewas knighted in 1836, and died at sea on June 1, 1841, while returningfrom Egypt. [Illustration: THE BLIND FIDDLER. FROM A PAINTING BY SIR DAVID WILKIE. "An itinerant musician is entertaining a cottager and his family with atune on the fiddle; the father gayly snaps his fingers at an infant onthe knees of the mother, behind whom a mischievous boy, with the pokerand bellows in his hands, is mimicking the action of the musician. With this exception, all, even the dog standing by the chair of itsmistress, appear to be intent upon the music of the blind fiddler. "This quotation, from the catalogue of the National Gallery where theoriginal picture is placed, accurately describes it. ] [Illustration: CHOOSING THE WEDDING GOWN. FROM A PAINTING BY WILLIAMMULREADY IN THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM, LONDON. To the title of this picture, the painter himself added, as expositoryof his theme and the source of his inspiration, the following passagefrom Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield": "I had scarcely taken ordersa year, before I began to think seriously of matrimony, and chose mywife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, butfor such qualities as would wear well. " The picture thus affordsa good instance of the dependence on literature of the painters ofMulready's school. Its title alone would suffice, so well and simplyis the story told; but, apparently, with the British public, and inthe painter's mind, it gained an added grace by diverting the visualimpression of the observer to the realm of literature. The picture ishere reproduced from a copyrighted photograph by Frederick Hollyer, Kensington. ] William Mulready was of Irish birth, having come into the world atEnnis, in the County Clare, April 1, 1786. In 1809, after a periodin the schools of the Royal Academy, he exhibited there a pictureentitled "Fair Time, " which gave him almost instant success; and untilhis death, July 7, 1863, though producing fewer pictures than Wilkie, he worked on very much the same class of subjects. His color is lessagreeable than that of the Scot, and his execution very much morelabored. His life was uneventful, occupied exclusively with his work, which he loved; so much so that two days before his death, an oldman of seventy-seven, he sat drawing in the evening life class at theRoyal Academy. He had been a member of the Academy since 1816. Thepicture here reproduced is (even without the quotation from the "Vicarof Wakefield" which accompanies it in the catalogue of the SouthKensington Museum) a simple story simply told. It is free from themannerisms which mar much of Mulready's work, especially in theportrayal of children, and in the original is more agreeable in colorthan are many of his pictures. [Illustration: CONTRARY WINDS. FROM A PAINTING BY THOMAS WEBSTER. Thehappily chosen title explains sufficiently this pleasant scene. Thepicture, painted in 1843, is now in the South Kensington Museum. ] Thomas Webster, born March 20, 1800, in London, and dying at Cranbrookin Kent, September, 1886, was another painter whose work had enjoyedthe full meed of popularity, from 1825 to the time of his retirementfrom the Royal Academy in 1877. Pictures like the one here reproduced(from the original in the South Kensington Museum, painted in 1843, and entitled "Contrary Winds"), pictures depicting homely rusticlife, were his specialty. His work had gained him the title of RoyalAcademician in 1846. Through all this time, and in the work of many painters unnoticedhere, the qualities are evident of an honest endeavor to paint thesimple life of the country. With a higher standard of taste, andbetter preliminary instruction, painting would have gained; and thedefect with which British art has been so often reproached, of beingtoo literary, might have been lessened. Charles Robert Leslie, whose works are almost uniformly inspired by literature, was born atClerkenwell in England, of American parents, October 19, 1794. He wastaken to Philadelphia when five years of age, but returned to Englandin 1811, to study at the Royal Academy. Washington Allston andBenjamin West, both Americans--the latter at the time President of theRoyal Academy--aided Leslie by advice. After a preliminary stage as a portrait painter, Leslie exhibited atthe Royal Academy in 1819 a picture of "Sir Roger de Coverley Going toChurch, " the first of a long series of pictures dependent on booksfor their subjects. In 1825 he painted "Sancho Panza and the Duchess, "which procured him his election as an Academician the following year. The picture here reproduced is a repetition, with some slight changes, of the same subject, but was painted in 1844. Leslie may be said tohave originated this style of subject in England, where he has hadmany followers; and, given the requisite knowledge of literature, hispictures tell their story with directness and humor. In painting, hiswork is rather hard; but in grace and style of drawing he was muchsuperior to his contemporaries. Among his pictures are many suggestedby Shakespeare, which have been popularized by engraving. [Illustration: SANCHO PANZA IN THE APARTMENT OF THE DUCHESS. FROM APAINTING BY C. E. LESLIE. Sancho having, by the command of the Duchess, seated himself upon alow stool, is saying, "Now, madam, that I am sure that nobody but thecompany present hears us, I will answer without fear or emotion to allyou have asked and to all you shall ask me; and the first thing I tellyou is that I take my master, Don Quixote, for a downright madman. "The original picture is in the National Gallery, London. ] Leslie returned to this country in 1833 to accept the professorshipof drawing at the West Point Military Academy, but remained only afew months. After returning to London, he enjoyed a successfulcareer until his death, May 5, 1859. He was one of the first and mostconsistent admirers of Constable's work, and wrote his life. He alsopublished lectures on painting, delivered at the Royal Academy, wherehe had been appointed lecturer in 1848. The consideration of the two men whose portraits face each other here, and who stood thus opposed, during their lives, as the leaders ofall that constituted art in their time and country, takes us back toFrance. Frequent returns of this character will be necessary in thecourse of these papers; for, without undue prejudice in favor ofthe French, it must be said that they alone have through the centurymaintained a consistent attitude in regard to art. Other countrieshave from time to time encouraged painting, with as frequent lapsesof interest or lack of men who could legitimately inspire interest. Although transplanted bodily from Italy to France, in the time ofFrancis the First, art had taken so firm a root by the commencementof this century that, as we have seen, it grew and flourished thoughwatered by the red blood of revolution. As a national institution, following the prescribed rules of the Academy, it has, of course, met with frequent assaults at the hands of men for whom prescribedacademic law was as naught in comparison with the higher law ofgenius. In 1819 such a man appeared, with a picture which violated theunwritten law formulated by David: "Look in your Plutarch and paint!" [Illustration: THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA. " FROM A PAINTING BY GÉRICAULTIN THE LOUVRE. The frigate "Medusa, " accompanied by three other vessels, left FranceJune 17, 1816, heading for Saint-Louis (Senegal), with the governorand principal officers of the colony as passengers. On July 2 thevessel stranded on a reef, and after five days of ineffectual effortto float her, was abandoned. A raft was constructed and one hundredand forty-nine men embarked on it, the remainder of the crew andpassengers, four hundred all told, taking to the boats. For twelvedays, the raft floated at the will of the waves and winds; then itwas sighted by one of the convoys, the brig Argus. Only fifteen mensurvived. The picture represents the moment of their deliverance. ] Jean Louis André Théodore Géricault, born at Rouen, September 26, 1791, came to Paris in 1808, and entered the studio of Guérin, wherehis method of painting displeased his master to such a degree that headvised him to abandon the study of art. Guérin had thoroughly imbibedthe defects of the David method; and the spectacle of a youth whoobstinately persisted in trying to paint the model as he reallyappeared, instead of making a pink imitation of antique sculpture, seemed to him to be of little promise. Géricault, however, persisted; and with the exception of about a year, when the halo of military glory seduced him from his work, he workedso well and earnestly that, after two years' sojourn in Italy, hereturned to Paris, a few weeks before the Salon of 1819, equipped withthe knowledge of a master. Taking a canvas about fifteen feet high by twenty in length, using thegreen-room of a theatre for a studio, he set to work. Disdaining theprevailing taste for mythology and classic themes, he took from thejournals of the time the moving recital of the sufferings of the crewof the frigate "Medusa, " abandoned on a raft in mid-ocean. Choosingthe moment when the fifteen survivors of the hundred and forty-ninemen who had embarked on the raft sighted the sail in the offing whichmeant their deliverance, he worked with an energy and fire which haveremained remarkable in the annals of art. Certain of the figures, allof which are more than life size, were painted in a day, and when theSalon of 1819 opened, the picture was finished. [Illustration: INGRES. FROM A PORTRAIT PAINTED BY HIMSELF. Painted for the gallery of Painters' Portraits in the Uffizi, Florence, in 1858, according to the inscription on the picture. Thismost interesting collection, which is still being added to year byyear, comprises the portraits of the great painters, in most cases bytheir own hands, from the time of the Renaissance to our day. ] Seen as it is to-day in the Louvre, blackened by time and the neglectfrom which it suffered for six or seven years before it was placedthere, it remains one of the capital pages in the history of modernart. The effect on the younger generation who saw it fresh from thehand of the master, accustomed as they were to the lifelesseffigies of the classic school, was puzzling, and none but the mostrevolutionary dared approve of it. With the older painters there wasa similar distrust of the impression which it caused. Yet David--anartistic kernel encased in an academic husk--admired it; and so did aswarthy youth who was soon to make his mark and who was a friend andformer comrade of Géricault in the _atelier_ Guérin--Eugène Delacroix. [Illustration: DELACROIX. FROM A PORTRAIT PAINTED BY HIMSELF IN 1837. This portrait was left by the painter at his death to Mlle. JennyLeguillon, his housekeeper, and by her was bequeathed to the Louvre in1872. ] Géricault received a recompense of the fourth class, and, disgustedwith his lot, took the immense canvas to London, where it wasexhibited with success. During his sojourn in England he executed anumber of pictures in oil and water color, and many lithographs, whichare to-day eagerly sought by collectors. Returning to France full ofprojects for work, his health began to give way, and on the 18th ofJanuary, 1824, he died. The influence which he exercised had, however, borne its fruits. Already in the Salon of 1822 Ferdinand Victor EugèneDelacroix, born at Charenton, near Paris, April 26, 1799, had shownhis "Dante and Virgil. " Before considering Delacroix, however, it is best to return to theearlier years of the century, and give J. Dominique Auguste Ingres, whose stern face confronts Delacroix's portrait, the precedence towhich his age entitles him. "Monsieur" Ingres, as the iconoclastic leaders of the romantic schoolcalled him in mock deference, was born at Montauban, August 29, 1780. His life was fortunate, and his history, which is chiefly that of hisworks, can be told in few words. A pupil of David, he receivedthe Prix de Rome in 1801. He remained in Rome much longer than theallotted four years to which his prize entitled him, and returnedthere often during his life as to the source of all art. Byportraiture and the constant patronage of the government, the materialconditions of his life, which was of a simple character, befittinga man who viewed his mission as that of an apostle preaching thedoctrine of pure classicism, were made easy; and the official titlesof Member of the Institute, Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor, andSenator of the Empire all came to him with the lapse of years. More royalist than the king, and the last of David's disciples, Ingrespursued throughout his life the even tenor of a man convinced thatthe source of all inspiration in art was Greek sculpture as amplified, transmuted, and translated to the realm of painting by Raphael. Painting in his hands became almost purely a matter of form. Theelement of color was virtually ignored, and form, chastened in contourand modelling, became through the magic of his genius the almostsufficient quality. The qualification is necessary. For though toogreat a man to lose, as too many of his master's pupils did, the graspon nature; and while, therefore, his works, seen as they are throughthe glamour of the antique, never lack an intimate relation toexisting life, it is impossible to resist the feeling before them thatit is life beautified, of exquisite yet virile choice, but of lifearrested. The reproach of his opponents of the romantic school that hewas an "embalmer" has a foundation of truth. [Illustration: A PORTRAIT OF INGRES, DRAWN IN ROME IN 1816. This lovely drawing, from the collection in the Louvre, shows Ingresin his most pleasing aspect. By the magic of a few lines faintlytraced, he has evoked for us the image of a charming person; and bythe slight indication of costume, has also fixed the epoch at whichthe drawing was made. It was in the earlier years of the master, whilehe was in Rome, that he drew many such little masterpieces as a meansof livelihood, drawings which he then made for a few francs, and whichare now eagerly sought by the museums of Europe. ] [Illustration: APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. FROM A PAINTING BY INGRES. Originally painted for a ceiling in the gallery of Greek and RomanAntiquities, in the Louvre, where it is now replaced by a copy of thesame executed by Ingres's pupils. The picture represents Homer crownedas Jupiter by Victory, and seated before his temple receiving thehomage of the poets, painters, sculptors, and architects of theworld. ] [Illustration: THE SEIZURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE BY THE CRUSADERS. FROM APAINTING BY EUGÈNE DELACROIX. In 1203, through political intrigue, a French army, raised to takepart in the fourth crusade for the rescue of Jerusalem fromthe Mohammedans, joined with a Venetian army in an attack onConstantinople, then a Christian city, the capital of the ByzantineEmpire. The city fell, but later was recovered. Then, on April 12, 1204, the invaders secured it again, and subjected it to a despoilmentwithout parallel. Delacroix's picture portrays a scene in thisdespoilment. One of the invading barons, attended by his escort, rideson to a terrace, and the citizens fall before him, praying his mercy. Behind lies the Bosphorous, and beyond it are the shores of Asia. ] For all this, it is hardly superlative to say that, since art began, no man has ever felt the exquisite and subtle harmony of line tothe same degree as Ingres. Naturally the best examples of this, hisgreatest quality, are to be found in his rendering of the nude humanform; and from the "Oedipus and the Sphinx, " of 1808, to "La Source, "of 1856, both of which are now in the Louvre, he returned again andagain to its study, producing each time a masterpiece. His portraits, again, are most masterly, occasionally rising through sheer force ofrendering each characteristic trait of his model (as in the portraitof M. Bertin, the editor of the "Débats"), to the extreme exactitudeof Holbein, coupled with an _allure_ so thoroughly modern thatthe whole epoch of Louis Philippe lives before us. In the slighterdrawings of his earlier years in Rome, one of which is reproducedhere, only the most typical details are chosen, and these areindicated with a delicacy of touch, a sureness of hand, that notonly indicates the master, but lends a distinctive charm of truthfuldelicacy of which none but Ingres has known the secret. It is in suchworks that his influence will be felt the longest; for, as with hismaster, the great pictures in which he exemplified his principlesremain cold and uninteresting. The "Homer Deified, " reproduced here, was originally intended as a ceiling for the Louvre, and from adecorative point of view would excite a pitying smile from Veroneseor Tiepolo. Taken bit by bit, as a beautiful exhibition of supremeknowledge, of the evasive quality of style in drawing, it is, however, admirable, and as a whole it has the merits of grave, balancedcomposition. It was the spirit of work like this which the mastersought to force upon his epoch, rather than that of his portraits orof pictures like the "Source;" and the austerity of these principlesmet with more submission in the earlier years of the century than whenlater Géricault had shown the path in which the audacious Delacroixthrew himself at the head of a band of romantic followers. [Illustration: DANTE AND VIRGIL CROSSING THE LAKE WHICH SURROUNDS THEINFERNAL CITY OF DITÉ. FROM A PAINTING BY EUGÈNE DELACROIX, IN THELOUVRE. The subject is taken from Dante's "Inferno, " and represents the poetand his companions and guide standing in a bark conducted by Phlegyas, while around them appear on the surface of the water the writhingbodies of the condemned, among whom Dante recognizes certainFlorentines. ] I have used the term audacious in speaking of Delacroix, andcircumstances forced him to justify the epithet. Yet to a student ofhis work, and still more of his character as revealed in his writings(his recently published letters and the few articles published duringhis life in the "Revue des Deux-Mondes"), he would appear to have beenby nature prepared to receive the full academic tradition, andonly because of what appeared a violation of the tradition _as heunderstood it_, to have arrayed himself in violent opposition: asituation which rendered him in work and in life contradictory to hisnatural instinct. It is the old story of the defect of system. Eventhe most cunningly devised cannot make a place for all the manymanifestations of temperamental activity. Like Géricault, a pupil ofGuérin, Delacroix found in his master and in the general spirit ofthe school an insistence on the letter of the classic law to which hisrichly endowed nature could not bend, and was thus forced to rebel;whereas a more elastic application of received principles would havefound him an enthusiastic adherent. In this way he missed acquiringthe technical mastery over form, which proved a stumbling block to himthrough life. At times his drawing is possessed of a vigor and lifewhich even Ingres never had; at others his work is almost lamentablein its lack of constructive form. In respect to color in its finest, most harmonic qualities, he is the greatest of French painters; andat all times he is master of an intense dramatic force. It was with amasterpiece--"Dante and Virgil"--that he made his first appearance atthe Salon in 1822. At a bound he found himself famous. Guérin, who hadcounselled him against sending his picture to the Salon, grudginglyacknowledged that he was wrong. Gros told him that it was like Rubens, with more correctness of form--Rubens "chastened" was the word. Thegovernment bought the picture, paying the artist two hundred and fortydollars--twelve hundred francs--for it. The same year Delacroix submissively made his final attempt for thePrix de Rome, but came out sixtieth in the competition. Thenceforwardhe was to be constantly before the public, constantly opposed, misunderstood, criticised; but nevertheless, with all the energy whichshows in his portrait, constantly in the front. When his defenders hadsufficient influence to force the hand of the ministry of fine arts, he was commissioned to paint for the state; and to this we owe thedecorations in the gallery of Apollon in the Louvre, the decorationsin the church of St. Sulpice, and others. When he received the orderfor the entrance of the Crusaders to Constantinople for the Gallery ofBattles at Versailles, the good King Louis Philippe sent him word tomake it as little like his usual style as possible! Among Delacroix's critics Ingres, with all the force of hisconvictions, was the foremost. He to whom a sky had always served asa simple background was not created to understand the almost purplecanopy of azure stretching far above the heads of the Crusaders; norto find barbaric delight in the rich trappings of horses and men, since to him a drapery was simply a textureless covering adjusted toaccentuate the form beneath. Delacroix, whose intelligence was of ahigher order and who said of himself that he was "more rebellious thanrevolutionary, " treated Ingres when they met on official occasions, as at the meetings of the Institute (where finally Delacroix hadpenetrated), with a high and distant courtesy which his sturdyadversary, strong in his pious devotion to classicism, hardlyreturned. Delacroix had by far the most brilliant following, reinforced as it was by the landscape painters, who from 1830 onwardsgave to this century its most notable school of painting. Added tothis was a fair measure of appreciation on the part of collectors. Delacroix's genius found expression in many small pictures, all ofthem characterized by a gem-like coloration (which is more than merecolor, however, for in it lies the secret of a powerful and directexpression of sentiment) and by a vivid realization of movement. Proudby nature, delicate in health, his life was far from happy; he neverceased to feel the sting of adverse criticism. "For more than thirtyyears I have been given over to the wild beasts, " he said once. Hehad warm friends, who have left many records of his sweetness ofdisposition when the outer barrier of haughty reserve was brokenthrough; but they were few in number. He never married; painting, he said, was his only mistress, and his passion for his art is feltthrough all his work. His death occurred at Champrosay near Paris, where he had a modest country house, on August 13, 1863; and fouryears later, January 14, 1867, his great adversary, Ingres, followedhim. CY AND I. BY EUGENE FIELD. As I went moseyin' down th' street, My Denver friend I chanced t' meet. "Hello!" says I, "Where have you been so long a time That we have missed your soothin' rhyme?" "New York, " says Cy. "Gee whiz!" says I. "You must have seen some wonders down In that historic, splendid town;" And then says I: "For bridges, parks, and crowded streets There is no other place that beats New York, " says I. "_Correct!_" says Cy. "The town is mighty big, but then It isn't in it with its men, Is it?" says I. "And tell me, Cyrus, if you can, Who is its biggest, brainiest man?" "Dana!" says Cy. "You _bet_!" says I. "He's big of heart and big of brain, And he's been good unto us twain"-- Choked up, says I. "I love him, and I pray God give Him many, many years to live! Eh, Cy?" says I. "_Amen!_" says Cy. A YOUNG HERO PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF COLONEL E. E. ELLSWORTH. BY JOHN HAY, Author, with John G. Nicolay, of "Abraham Lincoln: a History. " [Illustration: HENRY H. MILLER, A MEMBER OF THE ORIGINAL COMPANY OFELLSWORTH ZOUAVES. From a photograph loaned by Mr. Miller and taken in 1861 by ColonelE. L. Brand, at that time commanding the company. ] It is in contemplating what the world loses in the deaths of brilliantyoung citizen soldiers that we appreciate most fully the waste ofwar and the priceless value of the cause for which such lives weresacrificed. When a man like Henri Regnault--the most substantialhope and promise of art in our century--is seen at the siege of Parislingering behind his retreating comrades, "_le temps de bruler unedernière cartouche_" the last words he uttered; when a genius likeTheodore Winthrop is extinguished in its ardent dawn on an obscureskirmish field; when a patriot and poet like Koerner dies in battlewith his work hardly begun--we feel how inadequate are all themillions of the treasury to rival such offerings. We shall have nocorrect idea what our country is worth to us if we forget all thesinging voices that were hushed, all the noble hearts that stoppedbeating, all the fiery energies that were quenched, that we might becitizens of the great and indivisible Republic of the Western world. I believe that few men who fell in our civil conflict bore with themout of the world possibilities of fame and usefulness so bright orso important as Colonel Ephraim Elmer Ellsworth, who was killed atAlexandria, Virginia, on May 24, 1861--the first conspicuous victim ofthe war. The world can never compute, can hardly even guess, what waslost in his untimely end. He was killed by the first gun he ever heardfired in strife; and his friends, who believe him to have had in himthe making of a great soldier, have nothing to support their opinionbut the impression made upon them by his manly character, his winningand vigorous personality, and the extraordinary ardor and zest withwhich his powerful mind turned towards military affairs in the midstof circumstances of almost incredible difficulty and privation. He wasone of the dearest of the friends of my youth. I cannot hope toenable the readers of this paper to see him as I saw him. No words canexpress the vivid brilliancy of his look and his speech, the swift andgraceful energy of his bearing. He was not a scholar, yet his wordswere like martial music; in stature he was less than the medium size, yet his strength was extraordinary; he seemed made of tempered steel. His entire aspect breathed high ambition and daring. His jet-blackcurls, his open candid brow, his dark eyes, at once fiery and tender, his eagle profile, his mouth just shaded by the youthful growth thathid none of its powerful and delicate lines--the whole face, whichseemed made for nothing less than the command of men, whether asgeneral or as orator, comes before me as I write, with a look ofindignant appeal to the future for the chance of fame which inexorablefate denied him. The appeal, of course, is in vain. Only a few men, now growing old, knew what he was and what he might have been if lifehad been spared him for a year or two. I will merely try to show inthese few pages, mainly from his own words, how great a heart wasbroken by the slugs of the assassin at the Marshall House. He was born in the village of Mechanicsville, Saratoga County, NewYork, on April 23, 1837. His parents were plain people, withoutculture or means; one cannot guess how this eaglet came into so lowlya nest. He went out into the world at the first opportunity, to seekhis fortune; he turned his hand, like other American boys, to anythinghe could find to do. He lived a while in New York, and finally driftedto Chicago, where we find him, in the spring of 1859, a clerk andstudent in the law office of Mr. J. E. Cone. From his earliest boyhoodhe had a passionate love of the army. He learned as a child the manualof arms; he picked up instinctively a knowledge of the pistol and therifle; he became, almost without instruction, a scientific fencer. But he was now of age, and determined to be a lawyer, since, to allappearance, there was no chance for him in the army. The way in whichhe pursued his legal studies he has set down in a diary which he keptfor a little while. He began it on his twenty-second birthday. "I dothis, " he said, "because it seems pleasant to be able to look backupon our past lives and note the gradual change in our sentiments andviews of life; and because my life has been, and bids fair to be, such a jumble of strange incidents that, should I become anybody oranything, this will be useful as a means of showing how much sufferingand temptation a man may undergo and still keep clear of despair andvice. " [Illustration: ELLSWORTH IN THE SPRING OF 1861, WHEN HE WAS ALIEUTENANT IN THE REGULAR ARMY AND JUST BEFORE HE RECRUITED THEREGIMENT OF NEW YORK ZOUAVES. From a photograph by Brady in the Civil War collection of Mr. RobertCoster, by whose permission it is here reproduced. ] He was neat, almost foppish, in his attire; not strictly fashionable, for he liked bright colors, flowing cravats, and hats that suggestedthe hunter or ranger rather than the law clerk; yet the pittance forwhich he worked was very small, and his poverty extreme. He thereforeeconomized upon his food. He lived for months together upon drybiscuits and water. Here is a touching entry from his diary: "Hadan opportunity to buy a desk to-day worth forty-five dollars, forfourteen dollars. It was just such a one as I needed, and I could sellat any time for more than was asked for it. I bought it at auction. Ican now indulge my ideas of order in the arrangement of my papers totheir fullest extent. Paid five dollars of my own money and borrowedten dollars of James Clayburne; promised to return it next Tuesday. By the way, this was an instance in a small way of the importance oflittle things. Some two years since, when I was so poor, I went oneday into an eating-house on an errand. While there, Clayburne andseveral friends came in. "As I started to go out they stopped me and insisted upon my havingan oyster stew. I refused, for I always made it a practice never toaccept even an apple from any one, because I could not return likecourtesies. While they were clamoring about the matter and I trying toget from them, the waiter brought on the oysters for the whole party, having taken it for granted that I was going to stay. So to escapemaking myself any more conspicuous by further refusal, I sat down. Howgloriously every morsel tasted--the first food I had touched for threedays and three nights. When I came to Chicago with a pocket full ofmoney I sought James out and told him I owed him half a dollar. Hesaid no, but I insisted my memory was better than his, and made himtake it. Well, when I wanted ten dollars, I went to him, and he gaveit to me freely, and would take no security. Have written four hoursthis evening; two pounds of crackers; sleep on office floor to-night. " The diary relates many incidents like this. He took a boyish pridein refusing offers of assistance, in resisting temptation to innocentindulgence, in passing most of his hours in study, earning only enoughby his copying to keep body and soul together. One entry is, "Read onehundred and fifty pages of Blackstone--slept on floor. " Such a regimenwas not long in having its effect upon even his rugged health. Hewrites: "I tried to read, but could not. I am afraid my strength willnot hold out. I have contracted a cold by sleeping on the floor, whichhas settled in my head, and nearly sets me crazy with catarrh. Thenthere is that gnawing, unsatisfied sensation which I begin to feelagain, which prevents any long-continued application. " About this timehe was urged to take command of a company of cadets which, throughmismanagement, had been reduced to a deplorable condition. He at firstdeclined, but afterward consented if the company would accept certainrigorous conditions of discipline and obedience. He was as firm asgranite to his company, and cheery and gay to the world, while in hisprivate life he was subjecting himself to the cruel rigors describedin his diary of April 21: "I am convinced that the course of readingwhich I am pursuing is not sufficiently thorough. Have commenced againat beginning of Blackstone. I now read a proposition or paragraphand reason upon it; try to get at the principle involved, in my ownlanguage; view it in every light till I think I understand it; thenwrite it down in my commonplace book. My progress is, in consequence, very slow, as it takes on an average half an hour to each page. Attended meeting of cadets' committee on ways and means; all mypropositions accepted. I spent my last ten cents for crackers to-day. Ten pages of Blackstone. " The next day he writes: "My mind was so occupied with obtainingmoney due to-morrow that I could not study. Five pages of Blackstone. Nothing whatever to eat. I am very tired and hungry to-night. Onward. " [Illustration: ELLSWORTH IN 1860, WHEN HE WAS CAPTAIN OF THE CHICAGOCOMPANY. From a photograph loaned by Mr. H. H. Miller of Chicago, a member ofthe Chicago company, and taken July 2, 1860, by Colonel E. L. Brand ofChicago, a member of Ellsworth's Chicago company, and afterwardsin command of it. In the State House at Springfield, Illinois, isa portrait group of the members of the Ellsworth company, with areproduction of this portrait of Ellsworth in the centre. ] In these circumstances of hunger and toil, he took charge of thecompany of cadets, which was falling to pieces from neglect. There wasno sign in his bearing of the poverty and famine which were consuminghim. He told them roundly that if they elected him their captain theydid so with their eyes open; that he should enforce the strictestdiscipline, and make their company second to none in the UnitedStates. His laws were Draconic in their severity. He forbade hiscadets from entering a drinking or gambling saloon or any otherdisreputable place under penalty of expulsion, publication of theoffender's name in the city papers, and forfeiture of uniform. Heinsisted on prompt obedience and unremitting drill. The company underhis firm and inspiring command rapidly pulled itself together, and attracted all at once the notice and admiration of Chicago andnorthern Illinois. The young captain did not give up his law studies. He wrote and affixed to his desk a card which contained his own dailyorders: "So aim to spend your time that at night, when looking back atthe disposal of the day, you find no time misspent, no hour, no momenteven, which has not resulted in some benefit, no action which had nota purpose in it. Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays: Rise at 5 o'clock;5 to 10, study; 10 to 1, copy; 1 to 4, business; 4 to 7, study; 7 to8, exercise; 8 to 10, study. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays: Riseat 6; 6 to 10, study; 10 to 1, business; 1 to 7, study and copy; 7 to11, drill. " Working faithfully as he did in the office, his whole heart was in hisdrill room. His fame as a fencer went abroad in the town, and he waschallenged to a bout by the principal teacher of the art in Chicago. Ellsworth records the combat in his diary of May 24th: "This eveningthe fencer of whom I have heard so much came up to the armory to fencewith me. He said to his pupils and several others that if I held tothe low guard he would disarm me every time I raised my foil. He isa great gymnast, and I fully expected to be beaten. The result was: Idisarmed him four times, hit him thirty times. He disarmed me onceand hit me five times. At the _touche-à-touche_ I touched him in twoplaces at the same allonge, and threw his foil from him several feet. He was very angry, though he tried to conceal it. " [Illustration: FRANK E. BROWNELL, WHO KILLED THE ASSASSIN OF COLONELELLSWORTH. From a photograph in the Civil War collection of Mr. Robert Coster, bywhose permission it is here reproduced. ] Public interest constantly grew in the Zouaves and their youngcaptain. Large crowds attended every drill. The newspapers began toreport all their proceedings, and to comment upon them with moreor less malevolence; for military companies were treated with scantrespect in Western towns before the war. Ellsworth at last determinedto confront hostile opinion by giving a public exhibition of theproficiency of his company on the Fourth of July. He was not withouttrepidation. The night before the Fourth he wrote: "To-morrow willbe an eventful day to me; to-morrow I have to appear in a conspicuousposition before thousands of citizens--an immense number of whom, without knowing me except by sight, are prejudiced against me. To-morrow will demonstrate the truth or falsity of my assertion thatthe citizens would encourage military companies if they were worthyof respect. " The result was an overwhelming success; and the youngsoldier, after his feast of crackers the next night, wrote inexultation: "Victory! And thank God!" The Chicago "Tribune, " which had previously been unfriendly to thelittle company who were trying to make soldiers of themselves, gavea long and flattering account of the performance, and said: "We butexpress the opinion of all who saw the drill yesterday morning, whenwe say this company cannot be surpassed this side of West Point. " Encouraged by this public applause, he brought his company of Zouavesas near to absolute perfection of drill as was possible; and then, having tested them in as many competitive contests as were withinreach, he challenged the militia companies of the United States, andset forth in the summer of 1860 on a tour of the country which was oneunbroken succession of triumphs. He defeated the crack companies inall the principal Eastern cities, and went back to Chicago one ofthe most talked-of men in the country. Hundreds of Zouave companiesstarted up in his wake, and a very considerable awakening of interestin military matters was the substantial result of his journey. [Illustration: THE DEATH OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH. ] On his return to Illinois he made the acquaintance of Abraham Lincoln, and gained at once his friendship and esteem. He entered his officein Springfield ostensibly as a law student; but Mr. Lincoln was then acandidate for the Presidency, and Ellsworth read very little law thatautumn. He made some Republican speeches in the country towns aboutSpringfield, bright, witty, and good-natured. But his mind was full ofa project which he hoped to accomplish by the aid of Mr. Lincoln--noless than the establishment in the War Department of a bureau ofmilitia, by which the entire militia system of the United Statesshould be concentrated, systematized, and made efficient: an enormousundertaking for a boy of twenty-three; but his plans were clear, definite, and comprehensive. [Illustration: THE MARSHALL HOUSE, ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA, IN WHICHCOLONEL ELLSWORTH WAS KILLED. From a photograph owned by Bryan, Taylor & Co. , publishers, New York, and reproduced here by their permission. ] After Mr. Lincoln's election Ellsworth accompanied him to Washington. As a preliminary step towards placing him in charge of a bureau ofmilitia, the President gave him a commission as a lieutenant in thearmy. Shortly afterward he fell seriously ill with the measles; andbefore he was thoroughly convalescent, the guns about Sumter openedthe Civil War. There had been much doubt in many minds as to theloyalty of the people in case of actual war. Ellsworth never haddoubted it. He said to me as I sat by his bedside: "You know I have agreat work to do, to which my life is pledged; I am the only earthlystay of my parents; there is a young woman whose happiness I regard asdearer than my own; yet I could ask no better death than to fall nextweek before Sumter. I am not better than other men. You will find thatpatriotism is not dead, even if it sleeps. " When the news came thatSouth Carolina had begun the war, he did not wait an instant. He threwup his commission in the regulars, took all the money we both had, which was not much, and thus insufficiently equipped, started for NewYork, and raised, with incredible celerity, the New York Zouaves, aregiment eleven hundred strong. This unique organization filled so large a space in the public mindwhile Ellsworth commanded it that it seems hard to realize that itshistory with him is only a matter of a few weeks. He broughthis regiment down to Washington early in May, arriving thin as agreyhound, his voice hoarse with drilling; but flushed and happy toknow he was busy and useful at last. There was no limit to the hopes and the confidence of his friends. We had grown to admire and respect him for his high and honorablecharacter, his thorough knowledge of his business, ardent zeal for theflag he followed, and his extraordinary courage and energy. We fullyexpected, relying upon his splendid talents and the President'saffectionate regard, that his first battle would make him abrigadier-general, and that his second would give him a division. There was no limit to the glory and usefulness we anticipated for him. How soon all these hopes were dust and ashes! [Illustration: COLONEL ELLSWORTH AND A GROUP OF MILITIA OFFICERS. From a photograph taken by Colonel E. L. Brand, a member of Ellsworth'sChicago company, and reproduced by the courtesy of Mr. H. H. Miller, also a member of the company. The photograph was taken in New YorkCity, July, 1860, on the occasion of an exhibition drill giventhere by Ellsworth's company. The persons shown in the picture are, beginning on the left, the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Sixth Regiment, New York Militia; E. E. Ellsworth, Captain of the United States ZouaveCadets (Ellsworth's Chicago company); Joseph C. Pinckney, Colonelof the Sixth Regiment, New York Militia; the Adjutant of the SixthRegiment, New York Militia; H. Dwight Laflin, Second Lieutenant of theUnited States Zouave Cadets, and J. R. Scott, First Lieutenant of theUnited States Zouave Cadets. The colors shown in the picture werewon by Ellsworth's company in a drill competition at the NationalAgricultural Fair, Chicago, September, 15, 1859, and were, by it, never lost. They are to-day in the custody of the company's colorsergeant, B. B. Botteford, Chicago. ] On the evening of May 23d he received his orders to lead his regimenton the extreme left of the Union lines in the advance into Virginia. The part assigned him was the occupation of Alexandria. He workedalmost all night in his tent, arranging the business of his regiment, and then wrote a touching letter of farewell to his parents. Anticipating an engagement, he said: "It may be my lot to be injuredin some manner. Whatever may happen, cherish the consolation thatI was engaged in the performance of a sacred duty; and to-night, thinking over the probabilities of the morrow and the occurrences ofthe past, I am perfectly content to accept whatever my fortune may be, confident that He who noteth even the fall of a sparrow will have somepurpose even in the fate of one like me. My darling and ever-lovedparents, good-by. God bless, protect, and care for you. " These lovingand filial words were the last that came from his pen. The Zouaves were embarked before dawn the next morning. The celerityand order with which Ellsworth performed his work excited theadmiration and surprise of Admiral Dahlgren, who commanded the navyyard. The town of Alexandria was occupied without resistance; and Ellsworth, with a squad of Zouaves, hurried off to take possession of thetelegraph office. On his way he caught sight of a Confederate flagfloating from the summit of the Marshall House. He had often seen, from the window of the Executive Mansion in Washington, this self-samebanner flaunting defiance; and the temptation to tear it down with hisown hands was too much for his boyish patriotism. Accompanied by foursoldiers only and several civilians, he ran into the hotel, up thestairs to the roof, and tore down the flag; but coming down was met onthe stairs by the hotel-keeper and shot dead. His assassin perished atthe same moment, killed by Frank E. Brownell. Ellsworth was buried from the East Room of the White House by thespecial order of the President, who mourned him as a son. Many braveand able officers were to perish in the four years that followed thatmournful day; but there was not one whose death was more sincerelylamented than that of this young soldier who had never seen a battle;and it is the belief of his friends that he had not his superior innatural capacity among all the most eminent heroes of the war. But whowill care to hear this said? If Napoleon Bonaparte had been killed atthe siege of Toulon, who would have listened to some grief-strickencomrade's assertion that this young Corsican was the greatest soldiersince Cæsar? I have written these lines merely to show how simple, kindly, and heroic a heart Colonel Ellsworth had--and not to claim forhim what can never be proved. CHAPTERS FROM A LIFE. BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS, Author of "The Gates Ajar, " "The Madonna of the Tubs, " etc. ANDOVER GIRLS AS STUDENTS OF THEOLOGY. --THE DARK DAYS OF THEWAR. --WRITING MAGAZINE STORIES AND SUNDAY-SCHOOL BOOKS. --THEDIFFICULTY AND UNCERTAINTY OF WRITING FOR A LIVING. One study in our curriculum at the Andover School I have omittedto mention in its place; but, of them all, it was the mostcharacteristic, and would be most interesting to an outsider. Whereelse but in Andover would a group of a dozen and a half girls be putto studying theology? Yet this is precisely what we did. Not that wecalled our short hour with Professor Park on Tuesday evenings by thatlong word; nor did he. It was understood that we had Bible lessons. But the gist of the matter was, that we were taught Professor Park'stheology. We had our note-books, like the students in the chapel lecture-rooms, and we took docile notes of the great man's views on the attributes ofthe Deity, on election and probation, on atonement and sanctification, on eschatology, and the rest. Girls' with pink ribbons at white throats, and girls with blue silknets on their pretty hair, fluttered in like bees and butterflies, andsettled about the long dining-room table, at whose end, with a shadeover his eyes to shield them from the light, the professor sat in adark corner. Thence he promulgated stately doctrines to those soft and dreamingwoman-creatures, who did not care a maple-leaf whether we sinnedin Adam, or whether the Trinity were separate as persons or asattributes; but who drew little portraits of their dearest Academyboys on the margins of their lecture-books, and passed these to theirparticular intimates in surreptitious interludes between doctrines. What must have been the professor's private speculations on thoseTuesday evenings? I had a certain sense of their probable nature, eventhen; and glanced furtively into the dark corner for glimpses of thedistant, sarcastic smile which I felt must be carving itself upon thelines of his strong face. But I never caught him at it; not once. Withthe gravity befitting his awful topics, and with the dignity belongingto his Chair and to his fame, the professor taught the butterflies, to the best of my knowledge and belief, as conscientiously as he didthose black-coated beetles yonder, the theologues on the Seminarybenches. [Illustration: "THE OLD BRICK ACADEMY, " PHILLIPS ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS, WITH THE CLASS OF 1861 IN FRONT. Of the class of 1861 over twenty went into the war, and several diedin battle or in war prisons. Lieutenant S. H. Thompson, son of the lateProfessor William Thompson of East Windsor Seminary, was among thisnumber. Also, Sergeant J. H. Thompson, son of the late Dr. Joseph P. Thompson of New York City. President Ward of Franklin College, theRev. Dr. Dougherty of Kansas City, and the Rev. Dr. Brand of OberlinCollege, were members of the class, and their portraits appear in thepicture. The valedictorian was Carlos F. Carter, brother of PresidentCarter of Williams College. He was drowned in the Jordan a few monthsafter graduation. ] I ought to say, just here, that, in a recent correspondence withProfessor Park upon this matter, I found him more or less unconsciousof having been so generous with his theology to the girls. I am givingthe pupil's impressions, not the teacher's recollections, of thatBible-class; and I can give no other. Of course, I may be mistaken, and am liable to correction; but my impressions are, that he gave ushis system of theology pretty straight and very faithfully. I cannot deny that I enjoyed those stern lessons. Not that I had anymarked predilections towards theology, but I liked the psychology ofit. I experienced my first appreciation of the nature and value oflogic in that class-room, and it did me good, and not evil altogether. There I learned to reason with more patience than a school-girl mayalways care to suffer; and there I observed that the mysteries of timeand eternity, whatever one might personally conclude about them, werematerial of reason. In many a mental upheaval of later life, the basis of that theologicaltraining has made itself felt to me, as one feels rocks or stumps orsolid things underfoot in the sickly swaying of wet sands. I may notalways believe all I was taught, but what I was taught has helped meto what I believe. I certainly think of those theological lectureswith unqualified gratitude. The Tuesday evenings grow warm and warmer. The butterflies hover aboutin white muslins, and pretty little bows of summer colors glisten onbright heads as they bend over the doctrines, around the long table. On the screens of the open windows the June beetles knock their heads, like theologues who wish they could get in. There is a moon without. Visions of possible forbidden ecstasies of strolls under the arches ofthe Seminary elms with the bravest boy in the Academy melt before thegentle minds, through which depravity, election, predestination, andjustification are filing sternly. The professor's voice arises: "A sin is a wrong committed against God. God is an Infinite Being;therefore sin against Him is an infinite wrong. An infinite wrongagainst an Infinite Being deserves an infinite punishment--" Now, the professor says that he has no recollection of ever havingsaid this in the Bible-class; but there is the note-book of the girl'sbrain, stamped with the sentence for these thirty years! "I have sometimes quoted it at the Seminary, " he writes, "forthe purpose of exposing the impropriety of it. I do not think anyprofessor ever quoted the statement, without adding that it isuntenable. The Andover argument was ----"[5] He adds the propercontroversial language, which, it seems, went solidly out of my head. Tenable or untenable, my memory has clutched the stately syllogism. Sharp upon the doctrines there falls across the silence and thesweetness of the moonlit Hill a strange and sudden sound. It islouder than theology. It is more solemn than the professor's system. Insistent, urging everything before it--the toil of strenuous study, the fret of little trouble, and the dreams of dawning love--the callstirs on. It is the beat of a drum. The boys of old Phillips, with the down on their faces, and thateternal fire in their hearts which has burned upon the youth of allthe ages when their country has commanded: "Die for me!" are drillingby moonlight. The Academy Company is out in force, passing up and down the quiet, studious streets. The marching of their feet beats solemnly at themeeting of the paths where (like the gardens of the professors) thelong walks of the Seminary lawns form the shape of a mighty cross. "An infinite wrong deserves an infinite punishment--" Thetheologian's voice falls solemnly. The girls turn their grave faces tothe open windows. Silence helps the drum-beat, which lifts its cry toHeaven unimpeded; and the awful questions which it asks, what systemof theology can answer? * * * * * Andover was no more loyal, probably, than other New England villages;but perhaps the presence of so many young men helped to make her seemso to those who passed the years from 1861 to 1865 upon the Hill. Theology and church history and exegesis and sacred rhetoric retreatedfrom the foreground of that scholastic drama. The great Presence thatis called War swept up and filled the scene. Gray-haired men went to their lecture-rooms with bowed heads, themorning papers shaking in their hands. The accuracy of the Hebrewverb did not matter so much as it did last term. The homiletic uses orabuses of an applied text, the soundness of the new school doctrine offree will, seemed less important to the universe than they werebefore the Flag went down on Sumter. Young eyes looked up at theirinstructors mistily, for the dawn of utter sacrifice was in them. Hewas only an Academy boy yesterday, or a theologue; unknown, unnoticed, saying his lesson in Xenophon, taking his notes on the Nicene Creed;blamed a little, possibly, by his teacher or by his professor, forinattention. To-day he comes proudly to the desk. His step rings on the old, barefloors that he will never tread again. "Sir, my father gives hispermission. I enlist at once. " To-day he is a hero, and the hero's light is glorious on his face. To-day _he_ is the teacher, and the professor learns lessons in histurn now. The boy whom he has lectured and scolded towers above himsuddenly, a sacred thing to see. The old man stands uncovered beforehis pupil as they clasp hands and part. The drum calls on, and the boys drill bravely--no boys' parade this, but awful earnest now. The ladies of Andover sew red braid upon blueflannel shirts, with which the Academy Company make simple uniform. Then comes a morning when the professors cannot read the papers forthe news they bring; but cover streaming eyes with trembling hands, and turn their faces. For the black day of the defeat at Bull Run hasdarkened the summer sky. Andover does not sew for the missionaries now. Her poor marriedtheologues must wait a little for their babies' dresses. Even the blueflannel shirts for the drill are forgotten. The chapel is turned intosudden, awful uses, of which the "pious founders" in their comfortablegraves did never dream. For there the women of the Hill, staying forno prayer-meeting, and delaying to sing no hymns, pick lint and rollbandages and pack supplies for the field; and there they sacrifice andsuffer, like women who knew no theology at all; and since it was nottheirs to offer life to the teeth of shot and shell, they "gave theirhappiness instead. " * * * * * The first thing which I wrote, marking in any sense the beginning ofwhat authors are accustomed to call their "literary career"--I dislikethe phrase and wish we had a better--was a war story. As nearly as I can recall the facts, up to this time I had shown noliterary tendency whatever, since the receipt of that check for twodollars and a half. Possibly the munificence of that honorarium seemedto me to satiate mortal ambition for years. It is true that, during myschooldays, I did perpetrate three full-grown novels in manuscript. Mydearest particular intimate and I shared in this exploit, and read ourchapters to each other on Saturday afternoons. I remember that the title of one of these "books" was "The Shadow ofa Lifetime. " It was a double title with a heroine to it, but I forgetthe lady's name, or even the nature of her particular shadow. Theonly thing that can be said about these three volumes is, that theiryouthful author had the saving sense not to try the Christian temperof a publisher with their perusal. Yet, in truth, I have never regretted the precious portion of humanexistence spent in their creation; for I must have written off in thatway a certain amount of apprenticeship which does, in some cases, findits way into type, and devastate the endurance of a patient public. The war story of which I speak was distinctly the beginning ofanything like genuine work for me. Mr. Alden tells me that it waspublished in January, 1864; but I think it must have been writtena while before that, though not long, for its appearance quicklyfollowed the receipt of the manuscript. The name of the story was "ASacrifice Consumed. " It was a very little story, not covering morethan four or five pages in print. I sent it to "Harper's Magazine, "without introduction or what young writers are accustomed to call"influence;" it was sent quite privately, without the knowledge ofany friend. It was immediately accepted, and a prompt check fortwenty-five dollars accompanied the acceptance. Even my father knewnothing of the venture until I carried the letter and enclosure tohim. The pleasure on his expressive face was only equalled by itsfrank and unqualified astonishment. He read the story when it cameout, and, I think, was touched by it--it was a story of a poor andplain little dressmaker who lost her lover in the army--and hisgenuine emotion gave me a kind of awed elation which has never beenrepeated in my experience. Ten hundred thousand unknown voices couldnot move me to the pride and pleasure which my father's first gentleword of approval gave to a girl who cared much to be loved, and littleto be praised; and the plaudits of a "career" were the last things inearth or heaven then occupying her mind. [Illustration: ABBOT ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS. From a photograph by Geo. H. Leek, Lawrence, Massachusetts, taken in1864. ] Afterwards, I wrote with a distinct purpose, and, I think, quitesteadily. I know that longer stories went, soon and often, to the oldmagazine, which never sent them back; and to which I am glad to paythe tribute of a gratitude that I have never outgrown. There wasnothing of the stuff that heroines and geniuses are made of in a shyand self-distrustful girl who had no faith in her own capabilities, and, indeed, at that time, the smallest possible amount of interest inthe subject. It may be a humiliating fact, but it is the truth, that had my firststory been refused, or even the second or the third, I should havewritten no more. For the opinion of important editors, and for the sacredness of marketvalue in literary wares, as well as in professorships or cotton cloth, I had a kind of respect at which I sometimes wonder; for I do notrecall that it was ever distinctly taught me. But, assuredly, ifnobody had cared for my stories enough to print them, I should havebeen the last person to differ from the ruling opinion, and shouldhave bought at Warren Draper's old Andover book-store no more cheapprinter's paper on which to inscribe the girlish handwriting (with thepointed letters and the big capitals) which my father, with patientpains, had caused to be taught me by a queer old travelling-masterwith an idea. Professor Phelps, by the way, had an exquisitechirography, which none of his children, to his evidentdisappointment, inherited. [Illustration: "THE STONE BUILDING, " PHILLIPS ACADEMY, ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS. This building was burned in 1864 or 1865. ] But the editor of "Harper's" took everything I sent him; so thepointed letters and the large capitals continued to flow towards hisdesk. Long after I had achieved whatever success has been given me, thismagazine returned me one of my stories--it was the only one in alifetime. I think the Editor then in power called it too tragic, or too something; it came out forthwith in the columns of anothermagazine that did not agree with him, and was afterwards issued, Ithink, in some sort of "classic" series of little books. I was a little sorry, I know, at the time, for I had the mostsuperstitious attachment for the magazine that, when "I was astranger, took me in;" but it was probably necessary to break therecord in this, as in all other forms of human happiness. Other magazines took their turn--the "Atlantic, " I remember--in duecourse; but I shared the general awe of this magazine at that timeprevailing in New England, and, having, possibly, more than my shareof personal pride, did not very early venture to intrude my littlerisk upon that fearful lottery. Perhaps this reserve was more natural because "Harper's" publishedas fast as I could write; which is not saying much, to be sure, for Ihave always been a slow worker. The first story of mine which appearedin the "Atlantic" was a fictitious narrative of certain psychicalphenomena occurring in Connecticut, and known to me, at first hand, to be authentic. I have yet to learn that the story attracted anyattention from anybody more disinterested than those few friendsof the sort who, in such cases, are wont to inquire, in tones morefreighted with wonder than admiration: "What! Has she got into the'_Atlantic_'?" The "Century" came in turn, when it came into being. To thisdelightful magazine I have always been, and always hope to be, acontributor. [Illustration: THE HOUSE IN ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS, WHERE THE SCHOOLCALLED "THE NUNNERY" WAS HELD. From a photograph taken in 1864 by Geo. H. Leek, Lawrence, Massachusetts. ] I read, with a kind of hopeless envy, histories and legends of peopleof our craft who "do not write for money. " It must be a pleasantexperience to be able to cultivate so delicate a class of motives forthe privilege of doing one's best to express one's thoughts to peoplewho care for them. Personally, I have yet to breathe the ether of sucha transcendent sphere. I am proud to say that I have always been aworking-woman, and always had to be; though I ought to add that I amsure the proposal that my father's allowance to his daughter shouldcease, did not come from the father. When the first little story appeared in "Harper's Magazine, " itoccurred to me, with a throb of pleasure greater than I supposed thenthat life could hold, that I could take care of myself, and from thatday to this I have done so. One hesitates a little, even in autobiography, about saying preciselythis. But when I remember the thousands of women who find it too easyto be dependent on too heavily-weighted and too generous men, one hesitates no longer to say anything that may help those otherthousands of women who stand on their own feet, and their own pluck, to understand how good a thing it is to be there. Of all the methods of making a living open to educated people to-day, the profession of literature is, probably, the poorest in point ofmonetary returns. A couple of authors, counted successful as the worldand the word go, said once: "We have earned less this year than the fisherman in the dory beforethe door of our summer home. " Perhaps it had been a good year forJack; possibly a poor one for those other fishers, who spread theirbrains and hearts--a piteous net--into the seas of life in quest ofthought and feeling that the idlers on the banks may take a summer'sfancy to. But the truth remains. A successful teacher, a clevermanufacturer, a steady mechanic, may depend upon a better income inthis country than the writer whose supposed wealth he envies, andwhose books he reads on Sunday afternoons, if he is not too sleepy, ordoes not prefer his bicycle. When we see (as we have actually done) our market-man driving by ourold buggy and cheap horse on holidays, with a barouche and span, weenjoy the sight very much; and when I say (for the other occupant ofthe buggy has a little taste for two horses, which I am so plebeianas not to share, having never been able to understand why one isnot enough for anybody): "But would you _be_ the span-owner--for thespan?" we see the end of the subject, and grow ravenously contented. One cannot live by bread or magazine stories alone, as the youngdaughter of toil too soon found out. Like other writers I did hackwork. My main dependence was on that venerable and useful form of itwhich consists in making Sunday-school books. Of these I must havewritten over a dozen; I wince, sometimes, when I see their forgottendates and titles in encyclopædias; but a better judgment tells me thatone should not be ashamed of doing hard work honestly. I was not anartist at Sunday-school literature (there are such), and have oftenwondered why the religious publishing societies kept me at it sosteadily and so long. There were tales of piety and of mischief, of war and of home, ofbabies and of army nurses, of Tom-boys, and of girls who did theirmending and obeyed their mothers. The variety was the only thing I can recall that was commendable aboutthese little books, unless one except a considerable dash of fun. One of them came back to me--it happened to be the only book I everwrote that did--and when the Andover expressman brought in thesquare package, just before tea, I felt my heart stand still withmortification. Fortunately nobody saw the expressman. I always keptmy ventures to myself, and did not, that I can remember, readany manuscript of mine to suffering relatives or friends, beforepublication. Indeed, I carried on the writer's profession for manyyears as if it had been a burglar's. At the earliest moment possible I got myself into my little room, andturned both keys upon myself and my rejected manuscript. But whenI came to read the publisher's letter, I learned that hope stillremained, a flickering torch, upon a darkened universe. That excellentman did not refuse the story, but raised objections to certain pointsor forms therein, to which he summoned my attention. The criticismcalled substantially for the rewriting of the book. I lighted my lamp, and, with the June beetles butting at my head, I wrote all night. Atthree o'clock in the morning I put the last sentence to the remodelledstory--the whole was a matter of some three hundred and fifty pagesof manuscript--and crawled to bed. At six, I stole out and found theexpressman, that innocent and ignorant messenger of joy or woe. Therevised manuscript reached the publisher by ten o'clock, and hisletter of unconditional acceptance was in my hands before anothertea-time. I have never been in the habit of writing at night, having been earlywarned against this practice by the wisest of fathers (who notablyfailed to follow his own advice); and this almost solitary experienceof the midnight oil remains as vivid as yesterday's sunset to me. My present opinion of that night's exploit is, that it signified anabnormal pride which might as well have received its due humiliation. But, at the time, it seemed to be the inevitable or even thecreditable thing. [Illustration: HENRY MILLS ALDEN, EDITOR OF "HARPER'S MAGAZINE. " From a photograph by G. C. Cox, New York. ] Sunday-school writers did books by sets in those days; perhaps theydo still. And at least two such sets I provided to order, each of fourvolumes. Both of these, it so happens, have survived their day andgeneration--the Tiny books, we called them, and the Gypsy books. Onlylast year I was called upon to renew the copyright for Gypsy, a youngperson now thirty years old in type. There is a certain poetic justice in this little circumstance, owingto the fact that I never _worked_ harder in my life at anything thanI did upon those little books; for I had, madly enough, contracted tosupply four within a year. We had no vacations in those days; I knew nothing of hills or shore;but "spoke straight on" through the terrible Andover weather. Our Julyand August thermometers used to stand up hard at over ninety degrees, day and night, for nearly a week at a time. The large white mansionwas as comfortable as ceiled walls and back plaster could be in thatfurnace; but my own small room, on the sunny side of the house, washeated seven times hotter than endurance. Sometimes I got over an openregister in a lower room, and wrote in the faint puffs of damp airthat played with my misery. Sometimes I sat in the cellar itself; butit was rather dark, and one cherished a consciousness of mice. In theorchard, or the grove, one's brains fricasseed quickly; in fact, allout-of-doors was a scene of bottomless torment worthy of a theologyolder and severer than Andover's. When the last chapter of the last book was done, it occurred to me towonder whether I might ever be able to afford to get for a week or twowhere the thermometer went below ninety degrees in summer. Butthis was a wild and baseless dream, whose irrationality I quicklyrecognized. For such books as those into which I had been coining ayear of my young strength and heart, I received the sum of one hundreddollars apiece. The "Gypsy" publisher was more munificent. He offeredone hundred and fifty; a price which I accepted with incrediblegratitude. I mention these figures distinctly, with the cold-blooded view ofdimming the rosy dreams of those young ladies and gentlemen with whom, if I may judge by their letters, our country seems to be brimmingover. "Will you read my poem?" "Won't you criticize my manuscript?" "I wouldlike to forward my novel for your perusal. " "I have sent you the copyof a rejected article of mine, on which I venture to ask--, " etc. , etc. "I have been told that all I need is Influence. " "My friendsthink my book shows genius; but I have no Influence. " "Will it troubleyou too much to get this published for me?" "Your Influence--" and so on, and so on, run the piteous appealswhich every successful author receives from the great unknown world ofdiscouraged and perplexed young people who are mistaking the stir ofyouth or vanity, or the _ennui_ of idleness, or the sting of poverty, for the solemn throes of power. What can one do for them, whom no one but themselves can help? Whatcan one say to them, when anything one says is sure to give pain, ordishearten courage? Write, if you _must_; not otherwise. Do not write, if you can earna fair living at teaching or dressmaking, at electricity orhod-carrying. Make shoes, weed cabbages, survey land, keep house, makeice-cream, sell cake, climb a telephone pole. Nay, be a lightning-rodpeddler or a book agent, before you set your heart upon it that youshall write for a living. Do anything honest, but do not write, unlessGod calls you, and publishers want you, and people read you, andeditors claim you. Respect the market laws. Lean on nobody. Trustthe common sense of an experienced publisher to know whether yourmanuscript is worth something or nothing. Do not depend on influence. Editors do not care a drop of ink for influence. What they want isgood material, and the fresher it is, the better. An editor will passby an old writer, any day, for an unknown and gifted new one, withpower to say a good thing in a fresh way. Make your calling andelection sure. Do not flirt with your pen. Emerson's phrase was, "toiling terribly. " Nothing less will hint at the grinding drudgery ofa life spent in living "by your brains. " Inspiration is all very well; but "genius is the infinite capacity fortaking pains. " Living? It is more likely to be dying by your pen; despairing by yourpen; burying hope and heart and youth and courage in your ink-stand. Unless you are prepared to work like a slave at his galley, for thetoss-up chance of a freedom which may be denied him when his work isdone, do not write. There are some pleasant things about this way ofspending a lifetime, but there are no easy ones. There are privileges in it, but there are heart-ache, mortification, discouragement, and an eternal doubt. Had one not better have made bread or picture-frames, run a motor, orinvented a bicycle tire? Time alone--perhaps one might say, eternity--can answer. * * * * * [Footnote 5: "A sin once committed, always _deserves_ punishment;and, as long as strict _Justice_ is administered, the sin _must_ bepunished. Unless there be an Atonement, strict Justice _must_ beadministered; that is, Sin must be punished forever; but, on theground of the Atonement, _Grace_ may be administered, instead of_Justice_, and then the sinner may be pardoned. "] [Illustration: ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN. From a photograph by Fradelle & Young, London. ] LOST YOUTH. BY R. L. STEVENSON. Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Egg on the port, Rum on the starboard bow; Glory of youth glowed in his soul: Where is that glory now? Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Give me again all that was there, Give me the sun that shone! Give me the eyes, give me soul, Give me the lad that's gone! Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Billows and breeze, islands and seas, Mountains of rain and sun, All that was good, all that was fair, All that was me is gone. Originally published in the "Pall Mall Gazette. " THE DIVIDED HOUSE BY JULIA D. WHITING, Author of "The Story of Myra, " "Brother Sesostris, " "A specialProvidence, " and other stories. When Selucius Huxter had arrived at his last illness, he provedhimself more than ever in his life troublesome and wearing. Havinga suspicion that his condition was worse than his doctor or childrenallowed, he gave them no peace until he had extracted an admissionthat such was the case. Left alone with the doctor at his request, hereproached him. "Ye might as well told me before as let me lay here thinkin' andstewin' about it. I've lost a sight of strength tryin' to git thetruth from ye, and there wa'n't no need. Wall--I suppose I ain't reelydyin' naow, while I'm a-talkin', be I?" Assured as to that point, he added: "The reason I wanted to know isbecause I've got to fix my concerns so as to leave 'em as well as Ican; and all I want of you is that when you think I'm--wall--if yousee there's goin' to be a change, I want you should tell me, so's't Ican straighten things right out and git their consent to it. " Havingpromised, the doctor apprised him as the last moments drew near. "Sho! I want to know! Why, I feel full as well as I did yes'dy and aleetle grain easier, if anythin'. " "I hope this notice does not find you unprepared, " observed thedoctor. "Wall, no; I'm prepared as much as I can be, as you may say. I'vebeen a member in good and regular standin' this fifty-five year--andI hain't arrived at my age without seeing there's somethin' in lifebeside livin'. " He paused, then added with an accent of pride, "Idon't owe any man a cent, nor never cheated a man of one. Wall, I'vehad quite a spell to think of things in, durin' my sickness, and Idon't know but what I've enjoyed it considerable. Thought of thingsall along back to when I was a boy. Events come up that I'd cleanforgot. " The doctor gone, he called his children in. "Wall, Armidy, wall, Lucas, the doctor don't seem to think I shalltucker it out much longer. Wall, naow, " he exclaimed, quite vexed, "Ivow for't if I didn't forgit to ask him how long! Wall, too late naow. He's got out of sight, I s'pose. " Armida stepped to the window, and assured him of the fact. "Wall, no gret matter. I jist thought if I could git him to fix thetime I'd like to see how nigh he'd hit it. "Naow, I want to fix the property so's't you won't have no troublewith it. No use wastin' money gittin' lawyers here. There ain't nocheatin' nor double-dealin' anywhere to be found amongst the Huxtersnor the Lucases; and when you give me your promises to abide by mylast will and testament I shall expect you to hold to it jist the sameas if it was writ out. "Naow, about the farm and house. The house, as you know, stands inthe middle line of the farm; that is, the north side has a leetle theadvantage in hevin' the Jabez Norcross paster tacked unto it, over andabove the south half, but it's near enough. That paster don't countfor much. Pooty thick with sheep laurel. Wall, seein' the land liesjist as it does, and the house is jist as it is, I propose to divideit even. Lucas, you can have the north half, and Armidy the south, beginnin' right to the front door, and runnin' right through the houseand right along down to the river, straight as you can fetch it. Doyou agree to my plan?" Armida and Lucas exchanged glances. "You speak, " said Lucas in a lowtone. "No, you, " said Armida. "What you whisperin' about? P'raps you think I can't hear because I'mdyin', but I'd have you to know my hearin' ain't affected a grain. Speak up naow! What is it, Lucas?" "We were thinkin' of Theodore, " said Lucas. "You're leavin' him out, seems so. " "'Tain't 'cause I forgot him; but I give him all I cal'lated towhen he quit home five year ago--money; and so I sha'n't leave himanythin'. Wouldn't do him no good, if I did, " he said to himself. "Well, we should feel better if you did, " said Armida. "I don't wanthe should be left out. Neither would mother if she was livin'; she'dfeel bad. " [Illustration: "'WALL, ARMIDY, WALL, LUCAS, THE DOCTOR DON'T SEEM TOTHINK I SHALL TUCKER IT OUT MUCH LONGER. '"] "I'll settle it with your ma when I see her. Come, now, what do yousay?" There was a long silence, which Armida broke by saying, "S'posin' himor me was to want to leave the place, I mean for good--get tired ofstayin' here to home?" "Wall, " said her father with a chuckle, "if either of you feels like_givin_ your share to the other, you may. I ain't goin' to leave myold place for either of you to sell to each other nor nobody else. Iexpect you to live on't. " "Well, " now objected Lucas; "s'posin' one of us should git married, then how would it be?" "Why, live along. Put in and work a leetle harder, maybe. This farmcarried a pooty fair number when I was younger. If you should git toonumerous you could build on either side. I guess there ain't no gretdanger, " he added. As neither offered further objections, Mr. Huxter said: "There's beentalk enough, I s'pose. Do you agree to 't?" He waited while eachgave an audible "yes. " "Naow, " said he, "I hain't an earthly thing tohamper me. " The father dead, for the brother and sister no new life began. Armidastill skimmed all the milk and made the butter, looked after Lucasas she had before, and Lucas attended impartially to the whole of thefarm, and Armida sometimes wondered what difference it made. To besure the profits were divided with the most rigid exactness; buteverything went tranquilly on until more than a year after theirfather's death, when Armida had a suspicion, confirmed by appearances, that Lucas was becoming interested in a young girl in a neighborhooda few miles away. The spirit of jealousy surely animated poor Armida, for nothing else could have prompted her action. Having ascertainedthe girl's name, she caused to be conveyed to her the facts, coloredfor the occasion, relating to the partition of the house and land; andthe young woman, having a shrewd eye to the main chance, bluntly toldLucas when next she saw him that she didn't wish the half of a housenor the half of a farm. [Illustration: THE DIVIDED HOUSE. --"ARMIDA'S SIDE OF THE HOUSE FELLMORE AND MORE INTO RUIN; WHILE LUCAS ... KEPT HIS IN EXCELLENT REPAIR, AND OCCASIONALLY RENEWED THE PAINT. "] Lucas had thought all might go on smoothly with a wife, and hadcounted on her accepting the situation. Inquiring as to who hadmeddled in his affairs, he traced the matter back to Armida, andcoming home mortified and angry, reproached her in unsparing terms, ending his recital of wrongs with: "I don't know what you did it for, unless you was afraid your half was going to be invaded; and if youfeel that way you'd better keep to your side and take care of your ownproperty. I ain't going to interfere. " Armida was powerless to protect herself except with tears, which didnot avail with Lucas. She made overtures of peace, such as offering tocook her brother's meals and look after his share of the milk; but waswarned to attend to her own business. Lucas had a new pipe-hole made in the kitchen chimney, and boughta new stove, and hunted up a kitchen table, telling Armida she waswelcome to the stove and table they had previously used in common, but he'd thank her to stay on her own side of the room. The situationwould have been ludicrous if it had not been grim earnest to thebrother and sister. Lucas had a hard side to his character, and hecould not forgive his sister's interference. He would not even giveArmida advice, but allowed her cows to break into her cornfield andher sheep to stray away, without warning her, though all the while hisheart pricked him at sight of her distress. Still all he would do wasto suggest that she get a hired man. Accordingly Armida, in despair, hired an easy-going, good-naturedcreature that offered his services. He did very well, and Armida goton better, and took courage. But there was a dreadful blow in store for her. Lucas brought a gangof carpenters to the farm, who instituted repairs on his half of thehouse. He even went so far as to commit the extravagance of havingblinds hung for his sitting-room and front chamber windows, and hishalf of the front porch was trimmed with brackets, and then the wholeof his half of the house painted white, so that his neighbors ralliedhim on being proud. "Only, " as one said, "why don't you extend yourimprovements right along acrost the house, Lucas? It looks sorterqueer to see one-half so fine and the other so slack. " "Armida's free to do she's a mind to, " said Lucas. "If she wants tofix up her side, she can. I don't hinder her--" "Nor you don't help her neither, as I see, " said the other. "I believe in 'tendin' to your own affairs and not interferin' withother folks, " Lucas rejoined. Armida was made very unhappy by these changes and the comments of theneighbors, and would gladly have beautified her half also, but had nomoney to spend. The farm had fallen behind, and she was pinched formeans. She did what she could, taking more care than usual of vinesand flowers, and even had an extra bed dug under her front windows, where she had many bright-hued flowers; but as she rose from diggingaround her plants and surveyed the house--Lucas's side with the newgreen blinds and the clapboards shining with paint, hers with itsstained, weather-beaten appearance and its staring windows--she feltashamed and discouraged. [Illustration: "AS ARMIDA SAT ON THE BENCH UNDER THE OLD RUSSETAPPLE-TREE, ... SHE ... LOOKED UP TO SEE A SHABBY, SHAMBLING, OLDISHMAN COMING AROUND THE SIDE OF THE HOUSE. "] She feared her hired man was slack and neglected his work; yet when hethreatened to go, and afterward compromised the matter by offering tostay if she'd marry him, at a loss what to do, and partly becauseshe was lonely, she married him. He was a respectable man, whose onlyfault was laziness, and she hoped that now he would take an interest. When Armida and her husband came back from the minister's andannounced to Lucas that they were married, his only comment was, "Well, a slack help will make a shif'less husband. " Years went by, and Armida's side of the house fell more and more intoruin; while Lucas, with what Armida considered cruel carefulness, kept his in excellent repair and occasionally renewed the paint. Thecontrast was so great that passers-by stopped their horses that theymight look and wonder at their leisure. Every glance was like a blowto Armida, so that she avoided her sitting-room and kept herselfin the uncomfortable kitchen that was divided by an imaginary linedirectly through the middle, a line never crossed by her brother, herhusband, or herself. It would have looked absurd enough to a stranger to see this dividedroom, with the brother clumsily carrying on his household affairs onthe one side and the sister doing her work on the other, with oftennot a word exchanged between them for days together. Absurd it mightbe, but it was certainly wretched. Armida grew old rapidly. Herhusband was a poor stick, and when, as years passed, a touch ofrheumatism gave him a real excuse for laziness, he did little morethan sit by the fire and smoke. As Armida sat on the bench under the old russet apple-tree by theback door one day, regretting her evil fate, she heard footstepsapproaching, and, pushing back her old sun-bonnet, looked up to see ashabby, shambling, oldish man coming around the side of the house andgazing in at the windows, "What ye doin' there?" said Armida sharply. The man turned, surveyed her with a smile, then said with a drawl sheremembered: "I hain't been gone so long but that I know ye, Armidy. Don't you remember me?" "Theodore Huxter! Is that you? Well!" and she hurried up to him, andshook hands violently. "I heard only last week that father was dead, " he explained. "I seen aman from this way, and he said he was gone. How long since?" "More than ten years ago. " "Well, I thought I'd come and see ye. " "I'm glad you did, " she said. "But come right in;" and she led the wayinto the kitchen. He leaned up against the door and surveyed the room. "I should 'a's'posed I'd have remembered this room, but what ye done to it? Whathev you got two stoves and two tables and all that for, Armidy?" Armida told him all, winding up her story with a few tears. "That accounts for the looks of the outside, I s'pose, " was hisonly comment. "I thought it was about the queerest I ever see. It'sridiculous! Why haven't you and Lucas straightened out affairs beforethis?" "I can't, and he can't, I s'pose, " she said hopelessly; "andeverything makes it worse. I wouldn't care so much if he hadn't fixedup the outside the way he did. " "Oh, well now, don't you fret. If I had money--but then I haven't. " "How have you lived sence you left home?" Armida inquired. "Why, I've had a still, and made essence and peddled it out; but Isold the still to git money to come here, and it took all I had. " "Well now, Theodore, I wish you'd stay here now you've got roundagain, " said Armida with great earnestness. "I've worried about you asight. I'd be glad to have you, and Lucas would, I know. " To spare a possible rebuff for Theodore, she ran out as she sawLucas coming to the house to get his supper, and apprised him of hisbrother's arrival, glad to find he shared her pleasure in it. As Lucasentered the room he shook hands with Theodore, saying, "How are ye?"to which Theodore responded with "How are you, Lucas?" Theodore was a relief and pleasure to all the family. He observed astrict impartiality. If he split some kindling-wood for Armida, hechurned for Lucas. If he took Armida's old horse to be shod, he helpedLucas wash his sheep. He accepted everything, asking no questionsafter the first evening, but kept an observant eye on all. Both Lucas and Armida had loved him since their earliest remembrance, and retained their old fondness for him now. He was a welcome guest oneither side of the kitchen, and though when he announced of an eveningthat he was going visiting, and stepped across the line to the otherside of the half from where he had been sitting, the owner of theside he honored felt pleased by the distinction, yet the one on theopposite side, though no longer (according to an understood law)joining in the conversation, still had the benefit of Theodore'snarratives. [Illustration: EVENING IN THE DIVIDED KITCHEN. ] He was busy, too, in his way. He was indefatigable in berry-pickingand herb-gathering, selling what Armida and Lucas did not wish, andshowing not a little shrewdness. When he had laid a little moneytogether he bought a still, and distilled essences of peppermint, wintergreen, and other sweet-smelling herbs and roots, and when astore was accumulated he filled a basket and departed on a peddlingexpedition, returning with money in his purse and a handkerchief orribbon for Armida. Once he bought her a stuff gown, which she camenear ruining by weeping over it, it was such a delight. Lucas remonstrated. "I think you're foolish, Theodore. Why don'tyou spend your money on yourself? You'd a sight better get you a newcoat. " "I'd rather see Armida crying over that stuff, " said Theodore, "thanhave a dozen coats. Nobody knows Armida's good looking, because she'sno good clothes. But she is, and when she gets that dress made up andputs it on with that pink ribbon I bought her last time, she'll lookas pretty as a pink. " Not so great a success were the Venetian blinds that he boughtsecond-hand and gave to Armida to hang in the sitting-room. Theyproved to be in sorry condition, and Theodore was much mortified. Being a handy creature, he managed to patch them up so that, thoughthey could not be rolled up, they looked very well from the outside;and, as he philosophically remarked: "What more do you want, Armidy? A room you never set in, you don'twant any light in. " There was one thing that Theodore would not do. He would not, as hesaid, fellowship with Jerry, Armida's husband. "Tell you, Armidy, " hewould say, "I can't put up with a man like him. " "Some folks call you shif'less, Theodore, " Armida retorted withbitterness. "Well, I am, " he allowed; "but the difference is--I'm lazy, but work, my fashion; but he's lazy, and don't work at all. " Though he disdained Jerry, he would rather do his tasks than seeArmida's interests suffer; and when he was not occupied with his stillor peddling, he busied himself on her side of the farm. Lucas wouldat any time give him a helping hand rather than see Theodore hurthimself, and so Armida's fences were mended and sundry repairs on herbarns and out-houses made. Lucas was still as stiff as ever, and thehelp given was always to oblige Theodore, who laughed to himself butsaid nothing. He once attempted to wheedle Lucas into painting at least all of thefront of the house, but Lucas was not to be moved. Disappointed inthat, Theodore brought home a pot of yellow paint when returning fromhis next expedition, and painted his sister's half of the kitchenfloor, in spite of her remonstrating that Lucas wouldn't like it, though she acknowledged it looked pretty, and in spite of Lucas'svexation at finding the room ridiculous. "No more ridiculous than it was before, " Theodore assured him; "itcouldn't be. Besides, " he added, as an afterthought, "I'll bring itplumb up to the middle, and neither of you will be trespassin' on theother's side. I noticed one of your chairs was a leetle grain ontoArmidy's side the other night, and that ain't right. " In the middle of an afternoon, as Lucas was ploughing out his corn, he heard a "Hello!" to which, when it had been two or three timesrepeated, he replied, though without looking around. Presently heheard some one coming, in a sort of scuffling run, and breathingheavily, and looked over his shoulder to see Theodore, who droppedinto a walk as he spied him, and gasped: "Lucas! Say! Stop! Lookhere!" "Well?" said Lucas, and pulled up his horse. "I'm too old to run like this, that's a fact, " said Theodore, moppinghis face and leaning up against the plough. "There's a queer piece ofwork for us to do, Lucas. Armidy's all smashed up on the road, rightdown here on that second dip, and I guess Jerry is stone dead, and wemust fetch 'em up just as soon as we can. " Lucas made no comment, but mechanically unfastened the horse andturned toward the house, his brother stumbling behind, quite exhaustedby the hurry and fatigue of the hour. As they went Lucas said: "How did you come to know of it?" "Well, it was cur'us, " said Theodore. "You know I had old Sam thismorning, bringing in a little jag of wood for Armidy, and lengthenedout the traces to fit the old waggin. Well, all I know about it iswhat I guess. I see from the looks they must 'a' concluded to go tothe village with some eggs and so on, 'cause you can see in the roadwhere they smashed when the basket flew out; and Jerry didn't know nomore than to hitch up into the buggy without shortenin' the traces, and you know how that would work. Well, the cur'us thing is that I wasout in the paster mowin' some brakes--here, let me hitch up thisside, while you do the other--and I heard somebody or somethin' comin'slam-bang, and I looked up--I wa'n't near enough so as to see who'twas nor anythin'--and I looked up, and see 'em comin' like hudy, down one of them pitches. Thinks said I, well, there's a hitch-upthat's goin' to flinders--and just then the forward wheel struck a bigstone, and I see the woman and man and all fly inter the air and comedown agin, and the hoss went. " "Where's the horse now?" said Lucas. "I don't know, and I don't care. Tell ye, best put a feather-bed inthe bottom of this waggin, because her arm's broke for certain, and Idon't know what else. I'll fetch it--if you've got some spirits. " "Yes, " said Lucas, "I'll fetch some;" and both hurried into the house, and soon came out again and hastened off. "How did you know who 'twas?" Lucas inquired, with solemn curiosityfitting the occasion. "Why, I didn't; but I knew when they didn't offer to git up, whoever'twas wanted help, and I put across the lot to 'em, and sure enough'twas Armidy and Jerry. I looked her over, and see by the way shelay that one of her arms was broke, anyway, and stepped over to whereJerry was, and sir! he was as dead as Moses! Head struck right on abig stone and broke his neck--his head hung down like that, " lettinghis hand fall limply from the wrist. "Does she know?" said Lucas. "No, and I hope she won't for a spell. She hadn't come to when I lefther. " Lucas struck the horse with the end of the reins to urge him on. "There, now you can see 'em, " said Theodore, rising in his seat andpointing down the road. Lucas followed his example, and looking beforethem they could see both husband and wife lying motionless in theroad. [Illustration: "LOOKING BEFORE THEM THEY COULD SEE BOTH HUSBAND ANDWIFE LYING MOTIONLESS IN THE ROAD. "] Between them they soon lifted poor Armida into the wagon, and laidher on the bed as tenderly as might be, eliciting a groan by theoperation. "Best give her some?" said Lucas, bringing a bottle of brandy from outhis pocket. "Come to think of it, best not. She won't sense it so muchif she don't realize. " A brief examination of Jerry was sufficient. The brothers exchangedglances and shakes of the head. "And to think, " said Theodore, as theyregarded the body, "that it was only this morning I said to Armidythere was one tramp too many in the house, meaning me, and now to havemy words brought before me like this! 'Twasn't anything but a joke, but I hope she won't remember it against me. " "Well, first thing we've got to do is to get her to the house, " saidLucas. Armida having been made as comfortable as the present would allow, and Jerry having been brought up and consigned to the best chamber, as befitted his state, Lucas hastened after the doctor and Aunt PollySlater. The doctor found Armida in a sad case. "Though I don't think, "he assured the brothers, "if she isn't worried she will be hard sick. She's naturally rugged, and it's merely a simple fracture of theforearm. The sprained ankle will be the most tedious thing, but I mustcharge you to keep her in ignorance of her husband's death. " Theodore helped Aunt Polly in caring for Armida, and never was womanmore tenderly cared for. Many were the lies he was forced to tell, as Armida was first surprised, then indignant, at Jerry's apparentneglect. "Even Lucas has come to the door and looked at me, " she complained, "and Jerry ain't so much as been near me. " Theodore was fain to concoct a story about a strained back that wouldnot allow Jerry to rise from the bed. When it was deemed prudentto tell her, the task fell to Theodore, who was very tender of hissister, remembering that though he considered Jerry a shiftless, poorshack of a creature, Armida probably had affection for him. She tookher loss very quietly. "He was always good to me, " she said, "and he cared for me when no oneelse did. " "You're wrong there, " Theodore remonstrated. "I used to tell myself I was, " she replied sadly. "I knew I give thefirst offence, but Lucas never would 'a' done as he did by the houseif he'd cared for me. " Lucas heard the reproach where he stood out of sight in the littleentry that led to Armida's room, listening to the brother and sisteras they talked together within. He often lingered there, wishing toenter, but not daring to; longing to atone for the unhappiness he hadcaused his sister, but not knowing how to set about it. Now, takingTheodore into his confidence, he set to work to obliterate all outwardsigns that made it "the divided house, " leaving to his brother thetask of keeping it from Armida. As she querulously inquired what allthe hammering and pounding that was going on in front of the housemeant, Theodore had a story ready about the steps to the front porchbeing so worn out that Lucas had to have some new ones, "or else breakhis legs goin' over them. " The smell of paint was accounted for byLucas "havin' one of his spells of gittin' his side painted overagin;" on which Armida gave way to tears, until her brother comfortedher by saying it didn't make much difference, a new coat couldn't makeit any whiter than it was. It was a great day when Armida was pronounced well enough to eatbreakfast in the kitchen. Hobbling out with the aid of Theodore's arm, she stepped on the threshold, and looked over to where Lucas stoodby his window. He greeted her with, "How are ye, Armidy?" but did notleave his place. "It seems good to git out of my bedroom, " said Armida; then stopped, gazed about her, and sank into a convenient chair, exclaiming, "Whatdoes it mean?" For both her and Lucas's old stoves were gone, and a new one stooddirectly before the middle of the chimney, with its pipe running intothe old pipe-hole that they used before the house was divided. Thecoffee-pot steamed and bubbled over the fire, and a platter of ham andeggs stood on the hearth, while the table, set for breakfast, stoodexactly in the centre of the room; the dividing line had been wipedout by the paint-brush, and Lucas's side shone with yellow paint likeher own. "What does it mean?" she cried, trembling and clutching at Theodore'sarm. Theodore said nothing, but slipped out of the room, and Lucas, after an awkward pause, said: "Armidy, I wanted, if you was willin', that we should quit doin' as we have done and have things together aswe used to. Seems as if it would be pleasanter, and if you can forgivewhat I've done, I'll try to make it up to ye. " "Why, Lucas!" was all she could say. "I know I hain't done by ye like a brother, " said Lucas, anxious toget his self-imposed humiliation over, "and I'm sorry, and I'd like tobegin over again. " "I'm just as much a transgressor as you be, " said Armida, anxiousto spare him. "If I hadn't said what I did, I 'spose you'd marriedIanthe, and like as not had a family round ye. " "I don't know as I care _now_, " said Lucas; "I have felt hard to ye;but I see Ianthe last March"--he laughed--"and I didn't mourn muchthat her name wa'n't Huxter. But that's neither here nor there. Ifyou feel as if you could git along with two old brothers to look afterinstead of one, and overlook what's passed--" "I'd be glad to, Lucas, if you won't lay up anything against me. " "Well, then;" and coming to her side Lucas bent over her, and, to hergreat surprise, kissed her. Turning away before she could return thekiss, he opened the back door and called to Theodore. As Theodore came in, Lucas said: "If you had a shawl round ye, Armidy, wouldn't you like to git out a minute before breakfast?" and withoutwaiting for an answer, he brought her shawl and wrapped it round her, then put on her bonnet. "Can't you and I, " he said to Theodore, "make a chair and take herout? You hain't forgot sence you left school, hev you?" Locking their hands together they formed what school-children call achair, and lifting Armida between them, carried her through the hall, out at the front door, down the walk to the gate, and turned round, while Theodore bade his sister look up at the house. Armida obeyed. She saw the house glistening with paint, her side of it as white asLucas's, and blinds adorning her front windows, while the front porch, with new-laid floor and steps and bristling with brackets, was, in hereyes, the most imposing of entrances. Could it be true? she asked herself, and shut her eyes; then glancedagain, then looked at her brothers, who were both silent, Theodoresmiling with joy, while Lucas looked gravely down at her. "Oh, Lucas!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck, "you donethis for me!" "I _told_ you I was sorry, Armidy, " he said. SCIENTIFIC KITE-FLYING. BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT. On the long peninsula that separates New York Bay from Newark Bay, there is, among other things, a red house by an open field, in whichlives the king of kite-flyers. Every one in Bayonne, the town whichcovers this peninsula, knows the red house by the open field; forscarcely a day passes, winter or summer, that kites are not seensailing above this spot--sometimes a solitary "hurricane flyer, " whenthe wind is sweeping in strong from the ocean; sometimes a tandemstring of seven or eight six-footers, each one fastened to themain line by its separate cord. And wonderful are the feats inkite-illumination accomplished by Mr. Eddy (the king aforesaid) onholiday nights, especially on the Fourth of July, when he keeps thesky ablaze with gracefully waving meteors, to the profound awe oradmiration of his fellow-townsmen. If you enter the red house and show a proper interest in the subject, Mr. Eddy will take you up to his kite-room, where skyflyers of allsorts, sizes, and materials range the walls--from the tiniest, madeof tissue paper, to nine-footers, with lath frames and oil-clothcoverings. Hanging from the ceiling is one of the queer Hargravekites, which looks like a double box, and seems as little likely tofly as a full-legged dining-table; yet fly it will, and beautifullytoo, though by a principle of aëroplanes only recently understood. Then Mr. Eddy will show you the room where, with the help of hisdeft-fingered wife, also a kite enthusiast, he spends many hoursdeveloping and mounting photographs taken from high altitudes, with acamera especially constructed to be swung and operated from the kitecord. Until one talks with a man like Mr. Eddy--though, indeed, there isno one just like him--one does not realize what a large and importantsubject this of scientific kite-flying is. Many men of distinctionhave devoted years of their best energies to experiments with kites. Mr. Eddy himself is a scientist first, last, and always; for thesake of a new observation he will send up a tandem of kites whenthe thermometer is below zero, or stand half a night at his reelingapparatus, getting records of the thermograph. [Illustration: HARGRAVE LIFTED SIXTEEN FEET FROM THE GROUND BY ATANDEM OF HIS BOX-KITES. ] Perhaps I shall do best to begin by giving some useful information tothose who may contemplate constructing a modern scientific kite. Thefirst thing that should be done by such a person, be he boy or man, isto rid his mind of all his preconceived notions about kites, for it isalmost certain that they are incorrect. To begin with, the scientifickite has no tail. A few years ago people would have laughed at any onewho attempted to send up a kite without a tail. But the question isnow no longer even open with the scientific kite-flyers, who notonly send up tailless kites with the greatest ease, but do so underconditions which, to kites with tails, would be impossible: forinstance, in dead calms and in driving hurricanes. The tailless kite, sent from the hands of a master, will fly in all winds. It is true that kites with tails have given good results inexperimental work; but the tails are annoying and an unnecessaryweight, and may better be dispensed with. Every boy has had thevexatious experience of sending up a kite in a light breeze with atail made light in proportion, only to find that, on reaching strongerair currents above, the kite has begun to dive and grow unmanageable. Then, when he has taken the kite down and added a heavier tail, he hasfound the breeze at the ground insufficient to lift the extra load;and so, between two difficulties, has had to give up his sport indisgust. This is the one serious defect of kites with tails, thatthey cannot adapt themselves to wind currents of varying intensities;whereas the tailless kites do so without difficulty. And in tandemflying, which is the backbone of the modern system, the weight of ahalf dozen or more heavy tails would be a serious impediment, tosay nothing of the perpetual danger of the different tails gettingentangled in the lines. HOW TO MAKE A SCIENTIFIC KITE. It is important, then, to know how to make a scientific tailless kite, such as is used by the experts at the Smithsonian Institution, or atthe Blue Hills Conservatory near Boston, for it must not be supposedthat kite-flying is merely an idle pastime; it is a pleasure doubtlessfor boys, but it is also a field of serious experiment and observationfor men. The information I here present, including practicaldirections as well as interesting theories, was obtained from Mr. Eddyhimself, and may be regarded as strictly accurate. [Illustration: Frankfort Street. PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEW FROM A KITE. This view, from a photograph taken from a kite by Mr. W. A. Eddy, NewYork City at the crossing of Frankfort and William Streets. ] It is much better for amateurs to begin with a kite designed to fly instrong winds, as it is a long and delicate task to learn to manage thevariety with extra wide cross-stick meant for ascension in calms. Thetwo sticks which form the skeleton should be of equal lengths, say sixfeet; and should cross each other at right angles at a point on theupright stick eighteen per cent. Of its length below the top. Thispoint of crossing is of great importance, and was only located byMr. Eddy after months of wearisome experiment. He was misled in hisearlier efforts at tailless kite-making by the example of the Malaykiter-flyers, who are reputed to be the most skilful in the world, andwho cross the sticks much nearer the middle of the upright one. In asix-foot kite the two sticks, equal in length, should cross at aboutthirteen inches from the top of the upright stick; and the sameproportion should be observed for kites of other dimensions. At thepoint of crossing, the sticks should be slightly notched, and stronglybound together with twine tied in flat knots. Driving a nail or screwthrough the sticks, to bind them, weakens the frame at the point ofgreatest strain. As material for the sticks Mr. Eddy has found clear spruce betterthan any other wood. Bamboo is bad, because it bends unevenly atthe joints. White pine is not tough enough, and cypress is both toobrittle and too flexible. The hard woods, like ash, hickory, and oak, are too heavy; in scientific kite-flying, even so small a weight asa quarter of an ounce may make all the difference between failure andsuccess. All winds are broken by frequent brief intervals of calm, and a kite must rely on its lightness to outride these. Whoevercontemplates going seriously into kite-flying will do well toprovide himself with a store of suitable sticks by purchasing astraight-grained, well-planed spruce plank, free from knots, andhaving it sawed on a circular saw into sticks five-sixteenths andseven-sixteenths inches in thickness, to be cut later into suchlengths as he may choose. [Illustration: Frankfort Street. PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEW FROM A KITE. From a photograph taken from a kite by Mr. W. A. Eddy. This viewalso is of New York City about the crossing of Frankfort and WilliamStreets. The high wall on the right of Frankfort Street is the backof the "World" building; the high wall on the left is the back of the"Tribune" building. ] The two sticks (there are never more than two) having been fastenedfirmly together, the cross-stick must be sprung backward; so that, when finished, the kite will present a convex or bulging surface tothe wind. It might be imagined that a concave surface to the windwould be better; and indeed this has been tried. But it has invariablyproved that with a concave surface the kite receives too much of thebreeze and becomes quite uncontrollable. The amount of spring thatmust be given the cross-piece is in proportion to its length, Mr. Eddy's rule being to spring the cross-stick, by means of a cordjoining the two ends like a bow, until the perpendicular between thepoint of juncture of the two sticks and the centre of the cord isequal to one-tenth of the length of the cross-stick, or a little morethan one-tenth, if the kite is to be flown in very high winds. It is of the first importance to keep the two halves of the kite onthe right and the left of the upright stick perfectly symmetrical. Andthis is by no means an easy matter. It often happens in bending thecross-stick that, owing to differences in the fibre and elasticity ofthe wood, one side bends more than the other, with the result thatthe two halves present different curves and consequently unequal windareas. To offset this difficulty, and also to strengthen the skeleton, Mr. Eddy's practice is to add a bracing piece at the back of thecross-stick--a piece about one-fourth of the length of the cross-stickitself, and of the same width and thickness. If the two halves of thekite are already quite symmetrical, he places this bracing stick withits centre directly even with the point of juncture of the two largesticks, its two ends being fastened with twine to the cross-stick, about nine inches on either side of the crossing-point. But if onehalf of the cross-stick shows a greater bend than the other, he placesthe longer arm of the bracing piece toward the side that bends themost, thus presenting a greater leverage against the wind on that sidethan on the other, and so equalizing things. With the two sticks and the brace all thus properly in place, asupporting frame for the paper or cloth is formed by running, notcord, but fine picture wire, over the tips of the sticks, notched tohold it in place, in the ordinary way. Then, with a thin, clear pastemade of starch, the paper may be laid on, care being taken to pastethe edges so as to leave a certain amount of slack or looseness inthe part of the kite below the cross-stick, so that each of the lowerfaces will present concave wind surfaces. To preserve the requiredequilibrium, it is important that the amount of looseness in the paperbe equal on the two sides; and in order to keep it so, it is necessaryto measure exactly the amount allowed. [Illustration: THE EDDY TAILLESS KITE. Front view, showing how the line is attached. A storm-flyer. --The diamond-shaped figure in the centre is an openingmade to lessen the wind pressure. ] Those who wish to make many kites will do well to buy thin manillapaper, as wide as possible, having the dealer roll off for them sevenhundred or eight hundred feet, say a yard in width, which will insurea cheap as well as an abundant supply. For strong winds and largekites it is best to use cloth as the covering. It should be sewed tothe frame, and, if carefully put on, will do service for years. Silk, of course, is the ideal material; but its costliness puts it beyondordinary means, and common silesia, such as is used in dress linings, is almost as good. Whatever the material, the kite should be fortifiedat the corners by pasting or sewing on quadrants of paper or cloth, so as to give double thickness at the points most liable to injury. A finished six-footer should not weigh over twenty ounces, if coveredwith paper; or twenty-five ounces, if covered with cloth. Mr. Eddy hasmade a six-footer for calm flying as light as eight ounces. HOW TO SEND UP A KITE. There is only one way to learn the practical art of kite-flying, andthat is to begin and do the thing yourself--with many mishaps anddisappointments at the outset. One of Mr. Eddy's practices whensending kites up in very light winds or in an apparent calm, is toreel out two hundred yards or so of cord in a convenient open space, leaving kite and cord on the ground until ready to start. Then, bytaking the cord at the extreme distance from the kite, and beginningto run with it, he gets it quickly into the upper air currents, whichare always stirring more than those at the surface. It is sometimesnecessary to run for a considerable distance before the kite reachesa sustaining current; but a real kite enthusiast will not mind takingtrouble; indeed he had better abandon the whole business if he does. It is worth noting that even in a dead calm a kite may be kept upindefinitely as long as the flyer is willing to run with the cord atthe rate of about five miles an hour. In flying kites tandem there is always to be guarded against thedanger of a breaking of the cord. Few people realize how hard apull is exerted by a series of kites well up in the air. A strain oftwenty-five or thirty pounds on the cord is not uncommon; and not onlythe strength of the cord, but the way of attaching it, is of greatimportance. There should be two strings (never more), fastened to theupright stick at its lower end and at the point of crossing, theupper length being about one-third of the lower one, and the two beingadjusted so that, when taut, the kite takes an angle of about twentydegrees with the ground--which means that the kite goes up almoststraight overhead, the string making an angle of about seventy degreeswith the ground. [Illustration: THE HARGRAVE BOX-KITE. It was by kites of this variety, flown in tandem, that the inventor, Hargrave, was lifted sixteen feet from the ground on November 12, 1894. ] In sending up a series of kites to fly tandem, it is best to head theline with a small kite, three or, four feet in diameter, and graduallyincrease the size until a diameter of six feet is reached for the onesent last. This arrangement makes it possible to hold the upper kitesby lighter cord, the heavier kites being reserved for the half of theline nearest to the ground; and thus there is a material lesseningof the load to be borne. The first kite should be well up, say fivehundred feet, before the second is attached to the line. But afterthat they maybe sent at closer intervals, sometimes with only a fewhundred feet between them--say two hundred feet in light winds, andfive hundred feet in heavy winds. Each kite in a tandem should havea length of at least one hundred feet of cord from the main line, andgreat care should be exercised in knotting fast the individual lines. The best way of starting a second kite, after the first is well up, isto pay out about a hundred feet of cord for the tandem line, attachingone end of this to the main cord and the other to the second kite, which is left lying on the ground back downward. Then pay out the mainline evenly until the tandem line begins to lift. As the pendent kiteis borne higher and higher, it will swing for a while in a horizontalposition; but will presently begin to flutter and sail sideways, andthen finally come up more and more, until the wind catches it andit shoots up like a bird into its proper position. In fact, once thefirst kite is securely up, the others will fly themselves by merelybeing attached to the main line as described. Of course each freshkite increases the pull on the main line, and the line must be madeproportionately stronger as the tandem is increased. RUNAWAY TANDEMS. Mr. Eddy has had some remarkable experiences with escaping kites. Oneday at Bayonne, in July, 1894, while he was flying a tandem of eightkites in a northwest wind blowing eighteen miles an hour, the mainline broke with a loud snap, and the kites sailed away towards StatenIsland with the speed of an escaped balloon. One can scarcely conceivethe rapidity with which a line of kites like this travels over thefirst four or five hundred feet after its release. An ice-boat goes nofaster, and one might as well pursue the shadow of a flying cloudas chase that string. At the time of the escape the top kite, afour-footer, was up nearly a mile, and the other seven were flyingat a good elevation. The consequence was that although, as invariablyhappens in such cases, they began to drop, the lowest kite did notstrike the ground until it had been carried about a quarter of a mile, to the New Jersey shore of the Kill von Kull, which is half a milewide at this point. Here kite number eight, a six-footer, caught ina tree and held the line for a few seconds until its own cord broke, under the strain, and set the other kites free. This check had liftedthe other kites, and they now flew right bravely across the water, not one of the seven wetting its heels before the farther shore wasreached. Then the lowest of them came to the ground, in its turnputting a brief check on the others. But its cord soon broke under thestrain, and the six still flying went sailing over the trees of StatenIsland, hundreds of people watching them as they flew--six taillesskites driving along towards New York Bay, the main line trailingbehind over lawns and house-tops. Then a queer thing happened. As the loose end of the main line trailedalong, it whipped against a line of telegraph wires with suchviolence as to wind itself around the wires again and again, just asa whip-lash winds round a hitching-post when whipped against one. Theresult was that the runaway kites were finally anchored by the mainline, and held fast until their owner, coming in quick pursuit onferryboat and train, could secure them. On another occasion, two of Mr. Eddy's kites flying in tandem brokeaway, and started out to sea, the dangling line passing over a mooredcoal barge on which a man was working. Feeling something tickle hisneck, the man put up his hand quickly and touched the kite-cord. Greatly surprised, he seized the cord and made it fast; and he was notat all disposed to give up the kites when Mr. Eddy claimed them. Thereis no property, indeed, so hard to prove and recover as a runawaykite. For one thing, there is absolutely no telling how far a runawaykite will sail before landing. Mr. Eddy estimates that when the mainline breaks, a kite well up in a twenty-five mile breeze will travel, before alighting, a distance equal to twelve times its height from theground. This means that a kite straight over the Battery, in New YorkCity, and a mile in the air, driven by a stiff south wind, mightland in Yonkers if the cord broke. There is, by the way, an old-timeordinance on the statute book, prohibiting the flying of kites in anypart of New York City below Fourteenth Street. This, however, did notprevent Mr. Eddy from taking recently a series of unique photographs(some of them are reproduced in this article), by means of a tandem ofkites sent up from a high building near the City Hall Park. The onlycomplication that resulted was a fierce contention among a crowd ofidlers and gamins over the possession of one of the kites, which camedown accidentally and lodged in one of the Park trees. [Illustration: NEW YORK, EAST RIVER, BROOKLYN, AND NEW YORK BAY, FROMA KITE. From a photograph taken from a kite by Mr. W. A. Eddy. ] THE LIFTING POWER OF KITES. A tandem of six or eight six-foot kites exerts a pull of thirty poundsor more on the main line; but it must not be assumed that such atandem would lift and carry through the air a weight of thirty pounds. The weight of thirty pounds would be carried a short distance; butas the weight moved off, there would be a sudden lessening of theresistance on the line, and so of the wind pressure against the kites, which would soon cause them to sink. A tandem of strong kites ina good breeze might be made to operate a sort of jumping apparatuswhich, after being carried a short distance, would anchor itself tothe ground until the renewed strength of the kites lifted it up againfor another jump. But all kite experts are agreed that a kite's powerfor lifting loads clear of the ground must be enormously increasedaccording as the distance to which the load is to be lifted isincreased. It would be possible, for example, to build a tandem ofkites strong enough to lift a man clear of the ground, supposing himto be swung in a basket from the main line. This, indeed, has beenactually accomplished. September 18, 1895, in England, CaptainBaden-Powell was lifted to a height of one hundred feet on akite-string supported by five large hexagon kites. But Mr. Eddycalculates that to lift a man of the same weight (one hundred andfifty pounds) to a height of fifteen hundred feet, with a wind blowingat the same rate (twenty miles an hour), would require seven kiteswith upright and cross-sticks not less than sixty-four feet each inlength. The only other instance on record where a man has been lifted by akite-cord was in the experiment of the great Australian kite expert, Hargrave, who, on November 12, 1894, placed himself in a sling seatattached to a tandem of his wonderful box kites, and was swung sixteenfeet clear of the earth. The entire load, including the seat andappurtenances, amounted to two hundred and eight pounds. Mr. Eddycalculates that six of his bird-shaped kites, twenty feet in diameter, would lift a man and basket in safety to a height of one hundred feet, assuming the wind to be blowing steadily at twenty miles an hour. [Illustration: PHOTOGRAPHING FROM A KITE-LINE. NOTE. --In this picture the square box suspended from the upper line isthe camera. The ball hanging from the camera is the burnished signalwhich, by its fall, informs the operator on the ground when theshutter of the camera has opened. The shutter and the ball arecontrolled from the ground by the lower line. ] THE METEOROLOGICAL USE OF KITES. Although Mr. Eddy began flying kites as a diversion, he soon saw thatthere were more serious reasons for continuing his experiments. Havinglong been interested in meteorological problems, it occurred to himthat good results might be obtained by sending aloft, on kite-strings, self-registering thermometers and apparatus for indicating thedirection and strength of the air currents. On February 4, 1891, hesent up what is believed to be the first thermometer ever attachedto a kite for scientific purposes. This was at nine o'clock in theevening on a cold winter's night, the thermometer registering tendegrees Fahrenheit at the ground. On reading the record after thedescent, the thermometer was found to mark six degrees Fahrenheit, which indicated, according to the recognized law of decrease oftemperature, that the kite had been sent to a height of one thousandfeet. The law is that in ascending from the earth the temperaturefalls one degree for every two hundred and fifty feet; but subsequentexperiments convinced Mr. Eddy that it was by no means to be reliedupon as an indication of the height of kites. Not that the law isfalse; but it holds good only when the meteorological conditions aboveare the same as at the earth's surface, which is very far from beingthe case always. Out of these experiments Mr. Eddy evolved an important theory whichhas since been abundantly verified. Seeing the frequent variations inthe thermometric readings from what the law had led him to expect, heconcluded that these were due to meteorological variations overhead;and that changes in the weather, say the approach of warm waves orcold waves, make themselves felt in the air strata above the earth'ssurface several hours before they can be detected at the surface. Observations extending over months at the Blue Hills Observatory, nearBoston, and elsewhere, have abundantly confirmed this theory. With this fact established, it followed, in Mr. Eddy's opinion, that it was perfectly possible to use kites in making weatherprognostications; and, indeed, he has been doing this himself forseveral years with the best results. Whenever his kite-thermometers, sent to a fixed height which he determines independently by aspecially devised kite-quadrant, show actual readings which are eitherwarmer or cooler than the theoretical readings, he prophesies thatthe weather will, within a few hours, become warmer or colder atthe earth's surface, and these prophecies are fulfilled in alarge majority of cases. If the kite-thermometers show exactly thetemperature which the law would call for, he prophesies that therewill be no change in the weather. [Illustration: CITY HALL PARK AND BROADWAY FROM A KITE. From a photograph taken from a kite by Mr. W. A. Eddy. City Hall Park, New York City, appears in the foreground, with Broadway back of it. ] It has also been demonstrated that kites may be used by meteorologiststo indicate the approach of storms, which they foretell by a suddenand continuous veering over a considerable arc, usually about sixtydegrees. This veering begins usually six or seven hours before astorm, and often as much as twelve hours. And another sure sign of astorm is the continuous and sudden dropping of the kites followed bya quick recovery, which shows that the wind is blowing in gustsinterspersed with periods of calm. In making a series of meteorological experiments which he conducted atthe Blue Hills Observatory, Mr. Eddy often employed as many as eightor ten kites; and in August, 1895, he sent up twelve kites on oneline, three of them being nine-footers. This is probably the largestnumber of kites ever sent up in tandem; and although on this occasionthe line carried only the thermographs suspended in a basket, thewhole weighing not more than two pounds, a very much larger load mighthave been carried, had it been desired. [Illustration: Murray Street. Warren Street. MURRAY AND WARREN STREETS, NEW YORK CITY, FROM A KITE. From a photograph taken from a kite by Mr. W. A. Eddy, showing Murrayand Warren Streets, New York City, as they run west from Broadway. ] Among many other curious things about the wind observed by Mr. Eddy, is the fact that the night winds are by far the steadiest and mostsatisfactory for kite-flying. On this account much of his work withkites has been done in the darkness, although he uses lanterns onthe lines to assist him in locating the kites. It has also beendemonstrated that the force of the wind increases steadily as thedistance from the earth increases. Archibald proved this conclusively, by suspending a series of wind-measuring instruments at intervalsalong the main line, their registration showing almost invariablygreater wind pressure at the higher altitude. Mr. Eddy has furthermorenoted that, while the early morning wind is usually very light at theearth's surface, it is almost invariably good aloft; and he has againand again verified the well-established fact that all clouds heraldtheir approach and are accompanied by increased wind velocity. THE HIGHEST FLIGHT EVER MADE BY A KITE. The modern system of flying kites tandem was devised by Mr. Eddy in1890, although it was hit upon two years later independently by Dr. Alexander B. Johnson, the distinguished surgeon of the RooseveltHospital in New York. The tandem system makes it possible to sendkites to far greater altitudes than had ever been previously attained. And here the best record is undoubtedly held by one of Mr. Eddy'standems, sent aloft at Bayonne, on November 7, 1893. Mr. Eddy began tosend up the kites at 7:30 A. M. ; but, being hampered by light breezesfrom the east, found he was kept busy until half-past three in theafternoon in getting nine kites aloft. He had paid out nearly twomiles of cord, when the top kite, a little two-footer, stood straightover the spar buoy in Newark Bay. The lowest kite, a six-footer, washovering some distance inland from the shore, on a line from the shoreto Mr. Eddy's house (where the end of the line was anchored) measuringfifty-five hundred feet by the surveyor's map. Taking two observationsfrom the two ends of this base line, Mr. Eddy's kite-quadrant showedangles of thirty-five and sixty-six degrees; and these data, by simplemethods of triangulation, were sufficient to determine the altitudeof the kite, which was found to be five thousand five hundred andninety-five feet--or something over one mile. The kites were seen byhundreds of persons during the fifteen hours that they remained up, the experiment coming to an abrupt end at ten o'clock that night bythe blowing away of the two upper kites in the increasing wind. Theescaped kites disappeared in Newark Bay, along with three thousandfeet of the line. [Illustration: KITE-DRAWN BUOY. Invented by Prof. J. Woodbridge Davis. This buoy lacks the steeringappliances of the one shown below, and travels simply in a line withthe kite that draws it. ] Much interest attaches from a scientific point of view to experimentsdesigned to test how great an altitude may be reached by kites; andfor a year past Mr. Eddy has been working in this direction forthe Smithsonian Institution, the hope being that he will ultimatelysucceed in sending kites two miles above the earth's surface. Professor Langley has been following these experiments with greatinterest, and has furnished Mr. Eddy with a special quality of silkcord which, it is believed, will give better results in meteorologicalobservation than the ordinary hempen twine or rope. The greatdifficulty that Mr. Eddy finds in the way of making his kites reachgreat altitudes, is the pull on the cord, which increases greatlyas the kites rise higher. It is probable that a tandem of fifteen ortwenty big kites, reaching to a mile above the earth's surface, wouldexert a pull of one hundred pounds; while at a height of two milesthey might, Mr. Eddy thinks, exert a pull of three hundred and fiftypounds; and at a height of three miles, a pull of seven hundredpounds. However great the pull, it is essential to successful flyingthat the man in control be able to let out or reel in the main linewith great rapidity, and it is evident that a dozen men could not byhand alone accomplish this if the kites were sent as high as mightbe. It is likely, therefore, that, as the importance of scientifickite-flying becomes more widely understood, some simple dummy enginewill be devised for rapidly turning the windlass on which the mainline is wound. Mr. Eddy has made frequent experiments with rain-kites, which he usedfor the first time in November, 1893. It is true that Franklin sentup a flyer during a shower, but in his case the rain was merely anaccident accompanying the electric storm, which was his only concern. Mr. Eddy, however, has sent up kites in the rain for the purpose ofstudying cloud altitudes and other meteorological phenomena; and bythis means he has discovered what was not previously believed to betrue: that clouds sometimes sink to within six hundred feet of theearth's surface without actually coming down to it. In fact, Mr. Eddyhas had kites disappear in a cloud at a height of only five hundredand sixty-eight feet. It has sometimes happened that clouds settlingtoward the earth have obscured the kites gradually, the top onebecoming invisible first, and then the others in succession. Mr. Eddyhas found that by such indications he is able to foretell the approachof fog four or five hours before it reaches the earth's surface, soslowly do the clouds settle through the air strata. [Illustration: DIRIGIBLE KITE-DRAWN BUOY. This is the buoy invented by Prof. J. Woodbridge Davis for conveyingmessages, food, or life-lines between disabled vessels and the shore. The buoy is drawn over the water by the kite-line, like the one shownabove, but the setting of the keel and the three guy-ropes give itwhatever direction is desired. ] [Illustration: THE KITE-BUOY IN SERVICE. ] It is best to make rain-kites of oil-skin or paraffine paper, as theordinary paper or cloth becomes saturated with the dampness and veryheavy, thus lessening the buoyancy of the line. So penetrating is thedampness of clouds, even without a rain-storm, that the wooden framessometimes become warped and the paste seams soak open. DRAWING DOWN ELECTRICITY BY A KITE-STRING. The scientific kite-flyer will find much to tempt him into the fieldof electricity; and will be able, not only to duplicate Dr. Franklin'shistoric experiment of bringing down sparks from the heavens, butmay go far beyond this, taking advantage of the greater knowledge ofelectricity at his disposal and the superior apparatus. In the summerof 1885, Alexander McAdie, at the Blue Hills Observatory, got strongsparks at the earth's surface from a wire connected with a kitewhose surface had been coated with tinfoil so as to form an electriccollector. He also, by the brightness and increased lengths of thesparks obtained, proved that the electric force in the atmosphere isvery greatly increased with the approach of thunder clouds; andalso that this force increases steadily as the kites reach greateraltitude, and _vice versa_. Indeed Mr. Eddy and others who haveconducted similar experiments, have found the electric force so strongat certain altitudes as to make the manipulation of the conductingwire a source of considerable danger. On October 8, 1892, Mr. Eddy made an important advance in electricalexperiments with kites, by using a collector quite separate from thekites themselves, which were merely used in tandem to support the lineon which the collector was swung and raised to any desired altitude. By this arrangement any accident that might befall one of the kites isless likely to ruin the whole experiment. Much experience with the kite-collector has convinced Mr. Eddy thatthere is always in the air overhead, at all times of the year andin all weathers, an abundant, practically a boundless, supply ofelectricity. It has never yet happened to him to send his collector upto even so low a height as four hundred feet without getting a sparkin his discharge-box at the earth. He has discovered, however, thatthe greater the amount of moisture in the air, the greater is theheight to which he must send the collector before getting the firstspark. There is no doubt that large quantities of electricity mightbe obtained by hoisting large collectors, supported by strong flyingtandems, to considerable altitudes, and drawing off the supply atthe earth by means of a system of transformers which would lower theelectricity from the dangerously high tension at which it dischargesdown the wire, to a voltage that could be handled with safety. In hisexperiments thus far, Mr. Eddy has discharged the copper wire leadingfrom his collector into a wooden box containing a pasteboard wheelwith darning-needle axle and tinfoil edges. The axle is grounded, andthe copper wire from the collector placed near the tinfoil peripheryof the wheel, so as to discharge its sparks through the interveningdistance, and by the shock cause the wheel to turn. THE USE OF KITES IN PHOTOGRAPHY. One of the most interesting applications of the kite, but a thoroughlypractical one, is its use in photography. This has beenentirely developed within the past year or two; indeed the firstkite-photograph taken on the American continent was one made byMr. Eddy's camera on May 30, 1895. Although some attempts in thisdirection had been previously made in Europe, this was the firstclearly focused kite-photograph obtained. The previous ones had beenblurred, owing to defects in the devices for swinging the cameraapparatus from the kite-cord, and for loosening the shutter. Mr. Eddy's apparatus will be better understood from the accompanyingcut than from any description. In a general way it is a wooden framecapable of holding the camera, and terminating behind in a long stickor boom, by means of which the camera is made to point in any desireddirection or at any angle. This is arranged before sending up theapparatus, the boom being properly placed and held in position bymeans of guy cords from the main kite-line. A separate line hangsfrom the spring of the camera shutter, with which is also connecteda hollow ball of polished metal supported in such a way that it willdrop from its position, five or six feet through the air, when thecamera cord is pulled. The purpose of this ball is to allow theoperator on the ground to be sure that the camera has responded to hispull and that the desired photograph has been taken. He is assured ofthis, having given the pull, on seeing the flash made by the polishedball in its fall. All this being arranged, it is only necessary to send the camera upto any desired altitude and pull the camera cord, in order to getphotographs of wide-stretching landscapes, extensive cities, like NewYork, and panoramas of every description. Such photographs couldnot but be of the greatest value to geologists, mountain climbers, surveyors, and explorers. And they must possess particular interestfor students of geography and for map-makers. POSSIBLE USE OF KITES IN WAR. It is obvious, too, that kite-photographs might be of great valuein time of war, since a detailed view of an enemy's lines andfortifications might be thus obtained; while at sea a perfectedkite-photographing apparatus might be of great value in recordingthe approach of an enemy's ships. Mr. Eddy regards it as perfectlypossible to send up a tandem of kites from the deck of a man-of-war, with a circular camera, such as has already been devised, attachedto the main line, and an apparatus for snapping all the shutterssimultaneously; and photograph, not only the whole horizon as seenfrom the deck of a vessel, but, because of the greater elevation, manymiles beyond. A battle-ship provided with this photographing devicewould enjoy as great an advantage as if it were able at will tostretch out its mainmast into a tower of observation a mile high. It is true that some of the lenses in the circular camera, theones facing the sun, might give imperfect pictures; but in whateverposition the sun might be, at least one hundred and eighty degreesof the horizon would be clearly photographed. And by taking suchobservations in the early morning, and again in the middle of theafternoon, it would be possible to cover the whole circuit, and thusbe aware of the approach of an enemy's ships long before they wouldhave been visible to a telescope used on the deck. In such a circularcamera each lens would be numbered, and the position of each would beaccurately determined with regard to the points of the compass by theuse of guy-cords stretching from the main line to the framework of theapparatus. Thus, on looking at the number of a lens, the photographerwould immediately know from which direction any vessel whose image wasshown might be coming. Nor is the use of the kite in war limited to the services it wouldrender in photography; it might easily do more than that, and become amost efficient and novel engine of destruction. As has been shown, itis merely a question of carpenter work to send up a tandem of kitesthat will swing a heavy load high in the air. Suppose that load weredynamite, with an arrangement for dropping it over any desired spot. Mr. Eddy suggests that this might be effected by means of a slow matchmade by soaking a cotton string in saltpetre, which would be lightedon despatching the load of dynamite, and would burn at a regular rate, say one foot in five minutes, so that the length of the match could betimed to meet the necessities of the case. On burning to its end, the match would ignite a cord holding the dynamite in a pasteboardreceptacle, one side of which would fall down like the front of awall-pocket as soon as the restraining cord was burned through; andimmediately the dynamite in the box would be launched toward itsdestination. Mr. Eddy has already carried out an experiment similarto this, in setting loose from high elevations tiny paper aëroplanes. With a little practice he found he could start the slow match withsuch precision as to cause the aëroplanes to burst out into flight atany desired altitude. This interesting and beautiful experiment wasperformed for the first time by Mr. Eddy on February 22, 1893, whenhe sent off from a height of one thousand feet forty aëroplanes, theirforward edges weighted with pins for greater stability. Assuming such an arrangement made for discharging a load of dynamite, Mr. Eddy calculates that, with a twenty-mile breeze, six eighteen-footkites would lift fifty pounds of the explosive a quarter of a milein the air and suspend it over a fort or beleaguered city half a miledistant. It would thus be perfectly possible, supposing the wind to bein the right direction, to bombard Staten Island with dynamite droppedfrom kites sent up from the Jersey shore. It is evident that, for purposes of bombardment, a tandem of kites possesses severaladvantages over the war balloon. Kites are much cheaper. Then it wouldbe far more difficult to disable them than to disable a balloon, sincethey offer a smaller mark to the enemy's guns; and even if one or twowere destroyed, the others would still suffice to carry the dynamite. Finally, the kites may be sent up without risk to the lives of thosewho directed them, which is not the case with the balloons. Another interesting and important application of the modern kite hasbeen conceived by Professor J. Woodbridge Davis, principal of theWoodbridge Boys' School, in New York, who is one of the most famouskite-flyers in the world, in addition to being a distinguishedscientist and mathematician. It was Professor Davis who invented thedirigible kite several years ago, three strings allowing the operatorto steer the kite from right to left at will or to make it sink toearth. Having perfected this curious kite, which is of hexagon shape, is covered with oiled silk, is foldable, portable, and has a tail, Professor Davis turned his attention to his more recent and importantdiscovery of the dirigible buoy, which bids fair to do much to lessenthe dangers of shipwreck. For months past Professor Davis, assisted byMr. Eddy, has been experimenting on the Kill von Kull with this buoy, and has obtained most encouraging results. There are two kinds, bothbeing designed to be attached to kite lines and drawn over the waterby the power of the kite. The simpler variety is merely a long woodentube about three inches in diameter and shaped very much like a gunprojectile, with a cone of tin dragging behind to give steadiness. Itis for use only when the wind is blowing in exactly the direction inwhich it is designed to send a message or carry a rope. It will beobserved that, in a large number of cases when ships are driven onrocks, the wind is blowing toward the shore, and in such cases aline of kites would readily carry one of these buoys ashore with theimportant words inside or the still more important rope followingafter. Not satisfied, however, with this buoy, Professor Davis sought somemeans of making kites draw a load across the water in any directiondesired, regardless of the way the wind might be blowing; and, aftermuch thought and calculation, he hit upon what is now known as theDavis buoy, an object that has become familiar to dwellers at BergenPoint and Port Richmond, from the frequent experiments on the Killthat have been carried on during the past year. This form of buoy ismuch larger than the other, being three or four feet in length; andits essential feature is a deep iron keel that projects below out ofthe block of wood forming the body. It is evident that this keel willtend to keep the buoy headed in any given direction; and stability ofposition is further assured by the presence of guy-ropes attached tothe main line of the kite. Each buoy is provided with three of theseropes, which, by being lengthened or shortened, may cause the buoy toform any desired angle with the kite-cord, and to keep it. ProfessorDavis has entirely succeeded in making the kites drag the buoy alongthe water in various directions in the very strongest gales--in fact, under precisely the conditions that would assist when the buoys wouldbe needed for life-saving service from wrecks. And he is positivethat, with further experiment, he will be able, by moving along theshore until a tacking angle is reached, not only to send lines, food, or messages to a disabled vessel from the shore, but to bring backby the same kites and the same buoy other lines and messages from thepeople in distress. Considering the important offices of which it has already beenproved capable, and the possibility which these suggest of many otherpractical applications, it is clear that the kite is no longer tobe regarded as simply a toy. And this, in turn, suggests anew thefamiliar truth that, after all, nothing in this world is of smallconsequence. A DRAMATIC POINT. BY ROBERT BARR, Author of "In the Midst of Alarms, " "A Typewritten Letter, " etc. In the bad days of Balmaceda, when Chili was rent in twain, and itscapital was practically a besieged city, two actors walked togetheralong the chief street of the place towards the one theatre thatwas then open. They belonged to a French dramatic company that wouldgladly have left Chili if it could; but being compelled by stressof war to remain, the company did the next best thing, and gaveperformances at the principal theatre on such nights as a payingaudience came. A stranger would hardly have suspected, by the look of the streets, that a deadly war was going on, and that the rebels--so called--werealmost at the city gates. Although business was ruined, credit dead, and no man's life or liberty safe, the streets were filled with acrowd that seemed bent on enjoyment and making the best of things. As Jacques Dupré and Carlos Lemoine walked together they were talkingearnestly, not of the real war so close to their doors, but of themimic conflicts of the stage. M. Dupré was the leading man of thecompany, and he listened with the amused tolerance of an elder man tothe energetic vehemence of the younger. "You are all wrong, Dupré, " cried Lemoine, "all wrong! I have studiedthe subject. Remember I am saying nothing against your acting ingeneral. You know you have no greater admirer than I am, and that issomething to say when you know that the members of a dramatic companyare usually at loggerheads through jealousy. " "Speak for yourself, Lemoine. You know I am green with jealousy ofyou. You are the rising star, and I am setting. You can't teach an olddog new tricks, Carl, my boy. " "That's nonsense, Dupré. I wish you would consider this seriously. Itis because you are so good on the stage that I can't bear to see youfalse to your art just to please the gallery. You should be above allthat. " "How can a man be above his gallery--the highest spot in the house?Talk sense, Carlos, and I'll listen. " "Yes, you're flippant simply because you know you're wrong, anddare not argue this matter soberly. Now she stabs you through theheart--" "No. False premises entirely. She says something about my wickedheart, and evidently _intends_ to pierce that depraved organ; but awoman never hits what she aims at, and I deny that I'm ever stabbedthrough the heart. Say in the region or the neighborhood of the heart, and go on with your talk. " "Very well. She stabs you in a spot so vital that you die in afew minutes. You throw up your hands, you stagger against themantel-shelf, you tear open your collar and then grope at nothing; youpress your hands on your wound and take two reeling steps forward; youcall feebly for help and stumble against the sofa which you fall upon, and finally, still groping wildly, you roll off on the floor, whereyou kick out once or twice; your clinched hand comes down with a thudon the boards, and all is over. " "Admirably described, Carlos. I wish my audience paid such attentionto my efforts as you do. Now, you claim this is all wrong, do you?" "All wrong. " "Suppose she stabbed you, what would _you_ do?" "I would plunge forward on my face--dead. " "Great Heavens! What would become of your curtain?" "Oh, bother the curtain!" "It's all very well for you to condemn the curtain, Carl, but you mustwork up to it. Your curtain would come down, and your friends inthe gallery would not know what had happened. Now, I go through theevolutions you so graphically describe, and the audience gets timeto take in the situation. They say, chuckling to themselves, 'Thatvillain's got his dose at last, and serves him right, too. ' They wantto enjoy his struggles, while she stands grimly at the door takingcare that he doesn't get away. Then when my fist comes down flop onthe stage, and they realize that I am indeed done for, the yell oftriumph that goes up is something delicious to hear. " "That's just the point, Dupré. I claim the actor has no right tohear applause--that he should not know there is such a thing as anaudience. His business is to portray life exactly as it is. " "You can't portray life in a death scene, Carl. " "Dupré, I lose all patience with you, or rather I would did I notknow that you are much deeper than you would have us suppose. Youapparently won't see that I am very much in earnest about this. " "Of course you are, my boy, and that is one reason why you willbecome a very great actor, I was ambitious myself once; but as we growolder"--Dupré shrugged his shoulders--"well, we begin to have an eyeon the box-office receipts. I think you sometimes forget that I am agood deal older than you are. " "You mean that I am a fool and that I may learn wisdom with age. Iquite admit that you are a better actor than I am; in fact, I said soonly a moment ago, but--" "You wrong me, Brutus; I said an older soldier, not a better. But Iwill take you on your own grounds. Have you ever seen a man stabbed orshot through the heart?" "I never have, but I know mighty well he wouldn't undo his necktieafterwards. " Dupré threw back his head and laughed. "Who is flippant now?" he asked. "I don't undo my necktie; I merely tear off my collar, which a dyingman may surely be permitted to do. But until you have seen a man diefrom such a stab as I receive every night, I don't understand how youcan justly find fault with my rendition of the tragedy. I imagine, youknow, that the truth lies between the two extremes. The man done todeath would likely not make such a fuss as I make; nor would he departso quickly as you say he would, without giving the gallery gods ashow for their money. But here we are at the theatre, Carlos, and thisacrimonious debate is closed--until we take our next walk together. " In front of the theatre soldiers were on duty, marching up and downwith muskets on their shoulders, to show that the state was mighty andcould take care of a theatre as well as conduct a war. There were manyloungers about, which might have indicated to a person who did notknow, that there would be a good house when the play began. The twoactors met the manager in the throng near the door. "How are prospects to-night?" asked Dupré. "Very poor, " replied the manager. "Not half a dozen seats have beensold. " "Then it isn't worth while beginning?" "We must begin, " said the manager, lowering his voice. "The Presidenthas ordered me not to close the theatre. " "Oh, hang the President!" cried Lemoine impatiently. "Why doesn't heput a stop to the war, and then the theatre would remain open of itsown accord?" "He is doing his best to put a stop to the war, only his army does notcarry out his orders as implicitly as our manager does, " said Dupré, smiling at the other's vehemence. "Balmaceda is a fool, " retorted the younger actor. "If he were out ofthe way the war would not last another day. I believe he is playing alosing game, anyhow. It's a pity he hasn't to go to the front himself, and then a stray bullet might find him and put an end to the war, which would save the lives of many better men. " "I say, Lemoine, I wish you wouldn't talk like that, " expostulated themanager gently, "especially when there are so many listeners. " "Oh, the larger my audience the better I like it, " rejoined Lemoine. "I have all an actor's vanity in that respect. I say what I think, andI don't care who hears me. " "Yes; but you forget that we are, in a measure, guests of thiscountry, and we should not abuse our hosts, or the man who representsthem. " "Ah, does he represent them? It seems to me that begs the wholequestion; that's just what the war is about. The general opinion isthat Balmaceda misrepresents them, and that the country would be gladto be rid of him. " "That may all be, " said the manager almost in a whisper, for he was aman evidently inclined towards peace; "but it does not rest with usto say so. We are French, and I think therefore it is better not toexpress an opinion. " "I'm not French, " cried Lemoine. "I'm a native Chilian, and I have aright to abuse my own country if I choose to do so. " "All the more reason, then, " said the manager, looking timorously overhis shoulder--"all the more reason that you should be careful what yousay. " "I suppose, " said Dupré, by way of putting an end to the discussion, "it is time for us to get our war paint on. Come along, Lemoine, and lecture me on our mutual art, and stop talking politics--if thenonsense you utter about Chili and its President is politics. " [Illustration: "MY GOD!--YOU WERE RIGHT--AFTER ALL. "] The two actors entered the theatre; they occupied the samedressing-room, and the volatile Lemoine talked incessantly. Althoughthere were but few people in the stalls, the gallery was well filled, as was usually the case. When going on for the last act in the finalscene, Dupré whispered a word to the man who controlled the falling ofthe curtain; and when the actor, as the villain of the piece, receivedthe fatal knife-thrust from the ill-used heroine, he plunged forwardon his face and died without a struggle, to the amazement of themanager, who was watching the play from the front of the house, andto the evident bewilderment of the gallery, who had counted on anexciting struggle with death. Much as they desired the cutting off ofthe villain, they were not pleased to see him so suddenly shifthis worlds without an agonizing realization of the fact that he wasquitting an existence in which he had done nothing but evil. Thecurtain came down upon the climax, but there was no applause, and theaudience silently filtered out into the street. "There, " said Dupré, when he returned to his dressing-room, "I hopeyou are satisfied now, Lemoine, and if you are, you are the onlysatisfied person in the house. I fell perfectly flat, as yousuggested, and you must have seen that the climax of the play fellflat also. " "Nevertheless, " persisted Lemoine stoutly, "it was the true renditionof the part. " As they were talking, the manager came into their dressing-room. "GoodHeavens, Dupré!" he said, "why did you end the piece in that idioticway? What on earth got into you?" "The knife, " said Dupré, flippantly. "It went directly through theheart, and Lemoine, here, insists that when that happens a man shouldfall dead instantly. I did it to please Lemoine. " "But you spoiled your curtain, " protested the manager. "Yes; I knew that would happen, and I told Lemoine so; but he insistson art for art's sake. You must expostulate with Lemoine; although Idon't mind telling you both frankly that I don't intend to die in thatway again. " "Well, I hope not, " replied the manager. "I don't want you to kill theplay as well as yourself, you know, Dupré. " Lemoine, whose face had by this time become restored to its normalappearance, retorted hotly: "It all goes to show how we are surrounded and hampered by thetraditions of the stage. The gallery wants to see a man die all overthe place, and so the victim has to scatter the furniture about andmake a fool of himself generally, when he should quietly succumb to awell-deserved blow. You ask any physician, and he will tell you thata man stabbed or shot through the heart collapses at once. There isno jumping-jack business in such a case. He doesn't play at leap-frogwith the chairs and sofas, but sinks instantly to the floor and isdone for. " "Come along, Lemoine, " cried Dupré, putting on his coat, "and stoptalking nonsense. True art consists in a judicious blending of thepreconceived ideas of the gallery with the actual facts of thecase. An instantaneous photograph of a trotting horse is doubtlesstechnically and absolutely correct, yet it is not a true picture ofthe animal in motion. " "Then you admit, " said Lemoine quickly, "that I am technically correctin what I state about the result of such a wound?" "I admit nothing, " said Dupré. "I don't believe you are correct inanything you say about the matter. I suppose the truth is that no twomen die alike under the same circumstances. " "They do when the heart is touched. " "What absurd nonsense you talk! No two men act alike when the heartis touched in love; why then should they when it is touched in death?Come along to the hotel, and let us stop this idiotic discussion. " "Ah!" sighed Lemoine, "you will throw your chances away. You are toocareless, Dupré; you do not study enough. This kind of thing is allwell enough in Chili, but it will wreck your chances when you go toParis. If you studied more deeply, Dupré, you would take Paris bystorm. " "Thanks, " said Dupré lightly; "but unless the rebels take this cityby storm, and that shortly, we may never see Paris again. To tell thetruth, I have no heart for anything but the heroine's knife. I am sickand tired of the situation here. " As Dupré spoke they met a small squad of soldiers coming brisklytowards the theatre. The man in charge evidently recognized them, forsaying a word to his men, they instantly surrounded the two actors. The sergeant touched Lemoine on the shoulder, and said: "It is my duty to arrest you, sir. " "In Heaven's name, why?" asked Lemoine. The man did not answer; but a soldier stepped to each side of Lemoine. "Am I under arrest also?" asked Dupré. "No. " "By what authority do you arrest my friend?" inquired Dupré. "By the President's order. " "But where is your authority? Where are your papers? Why is thisarrest made?" The sergeant shook his head and said: "We have the orders of the President, and that is sufficient for us. Stand back, please!" The next instant Dupré found himself alone, with the squad and theirprisoner disappearing down a back street. For a moment he stood thereas if dazed, then he turned and ran as fast as he could back to thetheatre again, hoping to meet a carriage for hire on the way. Arrivingat the theatre he found the lights out and the manager on the point ofleaving. "Lemoine has been arrested, " he cried; "arrested by a squad ofsoldiers whom we met, and they said they acted by the order of thePresident. " The manager seemed thunderstruck by the intelligence, and gazedhelplessly at Dupré. "What is the charge?" he said at last. "That I do not know, " answered the actor. "They simply said they wereacting under the President's orders. " "This is bad, as bad as can be, " said the manager, looking overhis shoulder, and speaking as if in fear. "Lemoine has been talkingrecklessly. I never could get him to realize that he was in Chili, and that he must not be so free in his speech. He always insisted thatthis was the nineteenth century, and a man could say what he liked; asif the nineteenth century had anything to do with Chili in its presentstate. " "You don't imagine, " said Dupré, with a touch of pallor coming intohis cheeks, "that this is anything serious? It will mean nothing morethan a day or two in prison, at the worst?" The manager shook his head and said: "We had better get a carriage and see the President as soon aspossible. I'll undertake to send Lemoine back to Paris, or to puthim on board one of the French iron-clads. But there is no time to belost. We can probably get a carriage in the square. " They found a carriage, and drove as quickly as they could to theresidence of the President. At first they were refused admittance; butfinally they were allowed to wait in a small room while their messagewas taken to Balmaceda. An hour passed, but still no invitation cameto them from the President. The manager sat silent in a corner, butDupré paced up and down the small room, torn with anxiety about hisfriend. At last an officer entered the room, and presented them withthe compliments of the President, who regretted that it was impossiblefor him to see them that night. He added for their information, byorder of the President, that Lemoine was to be shot at day-break. Hehad been tried by court-martial, and condemned to death for sedition. The President regretted having kept them waiting so long, but thecourt-martial had been going on when they arrived, and the Presidentthought that perhaps they would be interested in the verdict. Withthat the officer escorted the two dumfounded men to the door, wherethey got into their carriage without a word. The moment they were outof ear-shot, the manager said to the coachman: "Drive as quickly as you can to the residence of the French minister. " Every one at the French Legation had retired when the twopanic-stricken men reached there; but after a time the secretaryconsented to see them, and on learning the seriousness of the case, heundertook to arouse his Excellency, and see if anything could bedone. The minister entered the room shortly after, and listened withinterest to what they had to say. "You have your carriage at the door?" he asked, when they had finishedtheir recital. "Yes. " "Then I will take it, and see the President at once. Perhaps you willwait here until I return. " Another hour dragged its slow length along, and they were well intothe second hour before the rattle of the wheels was heard in thesilent street. The minister came in, and the two anxious men saw byhis face that he had failed in his mission. "I am sorry to say, " said his Excellency, "that I have been unableeven to get the execution postponed. I did not understand, when Iundertook the mission, that M. Lemoine was a citizen of Chili. You see, that fact puts the matter entirely out of my hands. I ampowerless. I could only advise the President not to carry out hisintentions; but he is to-night in a most unreasonable and excitedmood, and I fear nothing can be done to save your friend. If he hadbeen a citizen of France, of course this execution would not havebeen permitted to take place; but as it is, it is not our affair. M. Lemoine seems to have been talking with some indiscretion. He does notdeny it himself, nor does he deny his citizenship. If he had taken aconciliatory attitude at the court-martial the result might not havebeen so disastrous; but it seems that he insulted the President to hisface, and predicted that he would within two weeks meet him in Hades. The utmost I could do was to get the President to sign a permit foryou to see your friend, if you present it at the prison before theexecution takes place. I fear you have no time to lose. Here is thepaper. " Dupré took the document, and thanked his Excellency for his exertionson their behalf. He realized that Lemoine had sealed his own fate byhis independence and lack of tact. The two dejected men drove from the Legation and through the desertedstreets to the prison. They were shown through several stone-pavedrooms to a stone-paved court-yard, and there they waited for some timeuntil the prisoner was brought in between two soldiers. Lemoine hadthrown off his coat, and appeared in his shirt-sleeves. He was notmanacled or bound in any way, there being too many prisoners for eachone to be allowed the luxury of fetters. "Ah, " cried Lemoine, when he saw them, "I knew you would come if thatold scoundrel of a President would allow you in, of which I had mydoubts. How did you manage it?" "The French minister got us a permit, " said Dupré. "Oh, you went to him, did you? Of course he could do nothing, for, asI told you, I have the misfortune to be a citizen of this country. Howcomically life is made up of trivialities! I remember once in Parisgoing with a friend to take the oath of allegiance to the FrenchRepublic. " "And did you take it?" cried Dupré eagerly. "Alas, no! We met two other friends, and we all adjourned to a caféand had something to drink. I little thought that bottle of champagnewas going to cost me my life; for, of course, if I had taken the oathof allegiance, my friend the French minister would have bombarded thecity before he would have allowed this execution to go on. " "Then you know to what you are condemned?" said the manager, withtears in his eyes. "Oh, I know that Balmaceda thinks he is going to have me shot; butthen he always was a fool, and never knew what he was talking about. Itold him if he would allow you two in at the execution, and instead ofordering a whole squad to fire at me, order one expert marksman, ifhe had such a thing in his whole army, who would shoot me throughthe heart, that I would show you, Dupré, how a man dies under suchcircumstances; but the villain refused. The usurper has no soul forart, or for anything else, for that matter. I hope you two won't mindmy death. I assure you I don't mind it myself I would much rather beshot than live in this confounded country any longer. But I have madeup my mind to cheat old Balmaceda if I can, and I want you, Dupré, topay particular attention, and not to interfere. " As Lemoine said this he quickly snatched from the sheath at thesoldier's side the bayonet which hung at his hip. The soldiers werestanding one to the right and one to the left of him, with their handsinterlaced over the muzzles of their guns, whose butts rested on thestone floor. They apparently paid no attention to the conversationthat was going on, if they understood it, which was unlikely. Lemoinehad the bayonet in his hands before either of the four men presentknew what he was doing. Grasping both hands over the butt of the bayonet, with the pointtowards his breast, he thrust the blade with desperate energy nearlythrough his body. The whole action was done so quickly that no onerealized what had happened until Lemoine threw his hands up and theysaw the bayonet sticking in his breast. A look of agony came in thewounded man's eyes, and his lips whitened. He staggered againstthe soldier at his right, who gave way with the impact, and then hetottered against the whitewashed stone wall, his right arm sweepingautomatically up and down the wall as if he were brushing somethingfrom the stones. A groan escaped him, and he dropped on one knee. Hiseyes turned helplessly towards Dupré, and he gasped out the words: "My God!--you were right--after all. " Then he fell forward on his face, and the tragedy ended. EDITORIAL NOTES. MR. WARD'S STORY "THE SILENT WITNESS. " We published in our January number the first of a series of stories byHerbert D. Ward, in which Mr. Ward will exhibit in dramatic form somemonstrous imperfections in the present modes of judicial procedure. That there is great need of such a study is shown by the remarkableeffect produced by the story already published, "The Silent Witness. "In various parts of the country the press has taken particular noticeof the story and of the question with which it deals. A recentnumber of "The Argus, " Avoca, Pennsylvania, contained the followingeditorial: "JUSTICE, WHERE ART THOU?" "'The Silent Witness, ' a powerful story in McCLURE's MAGAZINE forJanuary, portrays in a graphic and thrilling manner the evil, whichin some cases amounts almost to a horror, of holding in confinementwitnesses in cases of capital crime who are unable to furnish bail. "The story tells of a young and stalwart country lad who goes toBoston in search of fortune, and on the night of his arrival, whilewandering about in quest of lodgings to suit his scanty purse, is theunwilling witness of a murder. "He is arrested and held in the city jail to await the trial of themurderer. "The news of his imprisonment reaches his widow mother up among theNew Hampshire hills. She knows nothing of the circumstances furtherthan the rumors brought to her by her country neighbors. She dies of abroken heart, though never doubting the innocence of her noble-heartedboy. "The unfortunate young man learns of her death through his sweetheart, who comes to the Boston prison to see him. "His grief is beyond endurance, and he curses the law that forces suchsuffering upon the innocent. He has brain fever, and when the caseis called several months after the incarceration, the sheriff, who isasked to produce the only witness for the commonwealth, responds thathe died that morning. "The murderer, a saloon-keeper and ward man, has been at liberty underbail during the time that the innocent witness has been suffering theuntold agony experienced by one who comes with spotless characterfrom green fields and rural simplicity to the company of felons in awretched cell. There being no witnesses against him at the trial, a_nolle prosequi_ is found, and he goes free. "This story is fiction, but it is not overdrawn. Such horrible thingsdo happen in these _fin-de-siècle_ days in a civilized country. "In Scranton, only this week, a woman, Mrs. Nicotera, was releasedafter having been in custody since February 28th last, as a witness inthe Rosa murder case. She was confined with, her husband, who was alsoa witness, in the Lackawanna county jail until her health broke down, when she was removed to the Lackawanna hospital. "On Tuesday she was released on her own recognizance. Her husband hadbeen given his liberty in a similar manner some weeks before. She wasthin and pale when she appeared in court, and had evidently passedthrough severe suffering. Careful nursing will be required to restoreher to health. "It would seem as if some means of meeting the ends of justice couldbe devised without the necessity of subjecting innocent persons to afelon's fate for simply being a chance witness of an affair that is tobe brought into the court. " In the editorial columns of a recent number of the Cleveland, Ohio, "World" appeared the following: "A DISGRACE TO CIVILIZATION. " "A heart-breaking story, founded on fact, in McCLURE's MAGAZINEfor the current month, is an arraignment of the nineteenth centurycivilization that, considering its boasts of enlightenment anddecency, is as horrible an official crime as any that has given sodark a stain to Russian treatment of innocence. " Following this is a long outline of Mr. Ward's story, and then thearticle continues: "It is impossible to conceive of more awful inhuman injustice thanthis. But the story is not overdrawn. It has happened with variationsscores, if not hundreds, of times. It is occurring or liable to occurthis very day, not alone in Boston, but in Cleveland. "At a meeting of the judges, a short time ago, Judge Lamson used thefollowing language: "'The detention of innocent persons as witnesses is, under the bestof circumstances, bad. It is clearly the duty of the people of thiscountry or their representatives to see that the present disgracefulmethod in vogue in the county jail is abolished. We have no right, under any law, to place innocent persons on a plane with criminals. Itis nothing more or less than an outrage, inflicted on helpless people. I hope that the people of this county will be aroused to the enormityof this problem, and very soon put an end to this imposition. ' "And the counterpart of the story in McCLURE's MAGAZINE has happenedhere within a short time. Lewis Gerardin, a sailor, was released lastApril, after being detained six months. Several months before, FrankBlaha, a saloon-keeper, who committed the crime of murder in thesecond degree, managed to get bail. While Gerardin was held hereceived pathetic letters from his wife and family begging him to comehome. They did not know why he was held, and he said that if they wereto learn of his imprisonment they could not understand his innocenceof crime. One day a letter was received from home, announcing that hisfavorite little son had died but a week before. The last words of thechild called for his father. But Gerardin was not released until theprosecutor was ready to dismiss him. "Such possibilities are a disgrace to any community that toleratessuch a horrible law or such a feeble administration of it, and suchcallousness to human suffering that it will not save these innocentvictims from its outrageous injustice. When to this brutality areadded the comparative safety of the criminal, and the vile jails andthe vile inmates with whom young boys and girls and honest men anddecent women are thrown for the crime of witnessing a crime, itconvicts the civilization of the age with a combination of stupidityand heartlessness that had better say nothing of the Czar of Russia orthe ferocious Kurds. In its essential injustice and inhumanity it isnot many removes from the lynchings of the South. " THE REAL LINCOLN. The "McClure's Early Life of Lincoln, " which has just been published, is worthy of comment in these pages for several reasons. 1st. It contains no less than twenty portraits of Lincoln; andalthough this is only one-third of the number that will appear inthe whole life, it is more than twice as many as have appeared inany previous life. Furthermore, most of the portraits are new to thepublic. 2d. There are a large number of entirely fresh documents, severalof which are absolutely essential to a full understanding of AbrahamLincoln, and some of which make it necessary to revise our opinion ofLincoln's career. 3d. It contains a remarkable record of the achievements of the Lincolnfamily, whose services to the country extended through nearly acentury--a century which included the Revolutionary War and the CivilWar. Lincoln himself was ignorant of much of the history we have givenabout his ancestors; but in the light of the facts set forth, hiscareer is logical and easily understood. 4th. We have shown by new documents that Lincoln's father was by nomeans the colorless individual we have hitherto understood him to be. The reminiscences of Christopher Columbus Graham, first published inthis volume, together with records we have unearthed in Kentucky, showthat Thomas Lincoln was the owner of a farm three years before hismarriage, that he was a good carpenter, and that he was held in esteemby his neighbors; while according to Mr. Graham, Thomas's brotherMordecai (uncle of Abraham Lincoln) was a member of the Kentuckylegislature. His two sisters married into leading families. 5th. In regard to Lincoln personally, we have shown how thoroughly heeducated himself, so that at twenty-six he was able to more than holdhis own as a member of the legislature of Illinois. It does not detract from the great fame of Abraham Lincoln to showthat he was a worthy son of a splendid ancestry, for his extraordinarypersonality would be just as hard to account for had he been ascion of the most notable family in the world. When a man climbs theMatterhorn it matters little whether he began his journey at Zermattor a few furlongs farther on. * * * * * LINCOLN IN 1860--J. HENRY BROWN'S JOURNAL. As stated in the note to the portrait of Lincoln which makes thefrontispiece of this number of the MAGAZINE, the late J. Henry Brown, who went to Springfield, Illinois, in 1860, and painted a miniatureof Mr. Lincoln on ivory, left at his death a manuscript journalwhich contains interesting entries regarding Mr. Brown's sojourn inSpringfield and his acquaintance with Mr. And Mrs. Lincoln. We printherewith this part of the journal entire: 1860. AUGUST, _Continued_. Spring- Illinois. 12. Sunday. Arrived here at three o'clock field this morning. Wrote some letters. " " 13. Called at Mr. Lincoln's house to see him. As he was not in, I was directed to the Executive Chamber, in the State Capitol. I found him there. Handed him my letters from Judge Read. He at once consented to sit for his picture. We walked together from the Executive Chamber to a daguerrean establishment. I had a half dozen of ambrotypes taken of him before I could get one to suit me. I was at once most favorably impressed with Mr. Lincoln. In the afternoon I unpacked my painting materials. " " 14. Commenced Mr. Lincoln's picture; at it all day. " " 15. At Mr. Lincoln's picture. " " 16. Mr. Lincoln gave me his first sitting, in the library room of the State Capitol. Called to see Mrs. Lincoln; much pleased with her. Wrote five letters. " " 17, 18. At Mr. Lincoln's picture. Received an invitation from Mrs. Lincoln to take tea with them. " " 19. Sunday. Wrote letters. " " 20. Mr. Lincoln's second sitting. Have arranged to have his sittings in the Representative Chamber. " " 21. At Mr. Lincoln's picture. Heard from home; all well. " " 22. Mr. Lincoln's third sitting. " " 23. At Mr. Lincoln's picture. " " 24. Mr. Lincoln's fourth sitting. " " 25. Mr. Lincoln's fifth and last sitting. The picture gives great satisfaction; Mrs. Lincoln speaks of it in the most extravagant terms of approbation. " " 26. Sunday. At church. Saw Mr. Lincoln there. I hardly know how to express the strength of my personal regard for Mr. Lincoln. I never saw a man for whom I so soon formed an attachment. I like him much, and agree with him in all things but his politics. He is kind and very sociable; immensely popular among the people of Springfield; even those opposed to him in politics speak of him in unqualified terms of praise. He is fifty-one years old, six feet four inches high, and weighs one hundred and sixty pounds. There are so many hard lines in his face that it becomes a mask to the inner man. His true character only shines out when in an animated conversation, or when telling an amusing tale, of which he is very fond. He is said to be a homely man; I do not think so. Mrs. Lincoln is a very fine-looking woman, apparently in excellent health, and seems to be about forty or forty-five years of age. " " 27. The people of Springfield who have seen Mr. Lincoln's picture speak of it in strong terms of approbation, declaring it to be the best that has yet been taken of him. Received a letter from Mr. Lincoln indorsing the picture; also one from Mrs. Lincoln expressing her unqualified satisfaction with it; also one from Mr. John G. Nicolay, Mr. Lincoln's confidential clerk; and one from the man who took the ambrotype. This would be, I suppose, the proper place to say a word about Springfield, the prairie city, as it is sometimes called. It is a very pretty place; the streets eighty feet wide. It contains many very fine buildings, and has a population of about ten thousand.