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' ' ,_ . . . ~.. knolvsvo ,`l,xs, : • 13 .4FrEk,WAIGHT 'T.ditor-ant,Troprietor. - 7 40113481M-N,ITATER 3t.) lIIMUJIUWIATERLSATIERDAYMOIi , i'ING 'o.l2ciinCarpetTlitallf_lVi?rth-tvestcornof -Wroneisiidloduitislials; • arms of. tiubsenpbion. %ACpaidin advance, ,40 -- if paid within three monthstromeoatmencementorthe year, 200 IVosubserim ion Keeei ved fora* less time than six Tuontlis; nada° paper.will be discontinued. until all *lrietfassAaicptaid,unlesaut the optionor the pub -11:7'4144-knitttler entitled ym'ail aith ep üblish 'er's risk. e Rates of Advertising: , - -I,,segare[Olines] one week, .0 38_ •• ' 75 „ ,*”"" each'iubscquenilheertlon, 10 IfilVenslttne . week, 1 50.- .. ust •three.weeks, • 100 anclidubsequentinnortlon: YG . I;argillAdVortinement.in proportion. A liberaldiscount voi Moe made to oannerly,fialf `early orroarlyAckoriisers.who are WIC tlyconfined °their-business. - - P'tertitrito, Nil Nisi Bonum. INEWIZN=I:= Almost the last words which Sir Walter spoke ,to . Lockhart, his biographer, were 'Be.n, good man, my dearr and. with the last flicker of.jthe, breath. on his dying lips, he . sigbedm,farewell to his family and pass ed airekbleasing•thein. '• ' 'Two nien,Tammis, admired, beloved, have just left us, therGoldsmitti and the Gibbon of .oar time. ,Ere a raw weeks are over many a critic's p ,n will be at work l review 'their lives' and passing judgradnt on their works: This is no Teview or history, criticism; only a word in testimony of respect and regard from a man of letters, who owes to hie own professional labor the 'honor of becoming acquainted with those two eniineatliterarY men. One was the first ambassador whom the New World of teitars sent to the Old. -Ile was born al. bided with did repiiblie; the pater pairicz had laid his hand on the child's head. bare Washington's name; he came among us bringing the 'kindest sympathy ; the most artiess, - swilling good-wilPwilis new country (which some . people might be disposed to regard rather superciliously) could send us, a. 3 he showed in his' own person, a gentle- Irian, who, though himself torn in no very . . Ligh sphere, was most finished,. polished,. easy, : witty, quiet; and, soeialrfequal of the most. refined Europeans. If Irving's wel- come in Englan:l was a kind one, was it not also gratefully remembered? If he ate our salt, ,did he not pay us with 'a thankful heart? , Who .can calcUlate the =fount of friendliness rind god feeling fur our cuuulti•y which.this writer's generous and untiring regard fur us disseminated in his own?-.llis, 'books are read 'by millions* of his country men, whom he has taught fo love England; and why to love her? It would have been easy,to speak otherwise than he did, to in- Hattie national rancors, which, at the time when he first became known as a public writer, war had just renewed; to cry demi the old civilization at the expense of the new; to point cut our faults, arrogance ; 'shortcomings, and to give the republic to infer how much she was the parent state's superior. There are writers enough in the United States, honest and otherwise, who preach that kind of doCtrine. But the good Irving, the peaceful, the friendly, bad no plane for bitterness in his heart, and no scheme but kindness. Received in England with eitraordinary tenderness and friend ship, (Scott, • Southey, Byron, • and a bun ' drihketbers have borne witness to their liking for hitn,) he was a messenger of good-will and. peace between ,his country and outs. - "See, friends!" heiseems to say, "t.`heseEng !Bah . are not' so wicked, rapacious,' callous, proud, atryon . have been taught to believe • them. , L went .among them a hutnble.man; won-my, way, by_my pen; and, when known, found every hand held out to me With kind liness, and welcome. Scott is a great man, you.acknowledge. Did not Scott's king of England giirei'a gold' medal - to hini, and un other.'to me, your countryman, and a stranger?". ;Tradition in the United States still fondly retains the history of the feasts and rejoic ings which awaited Irving do his return to _hiveakive country. from Europe.' Ho had a - national , welcome; he stammered in his speeches, hid himself in confusion, and the people loved him 'all the 'bettor. no had noFthilyepresented America in Europe. -In -that young community a man who brings Lbotae - owith . him .abundant European incniiig is iiiiltti:ented with in4pect , trlut.fe . I found Ainericeri 'writers 'of wide-world re- Putatioonyi'strskTlMlV.A9. l iciAulA'Lnltgle.: o Pill' ione Of quitiobecureßritish ofitice,and or depresied' tlieir 3idgments),"tid • ring went home ,medalled by the kin g :. • diplcnnatir:ed . by the university* crowned, - end honored, 'and' admired. Ile had not in .1 - any way intrigued for bis,'l, l opiire, be. Lad fairly won them; and; in Irving's instance., as in others, dui Old country wits ' glad and= eager to pa y them. In Amer ica- the love and regard for • Ir:, sitig4MY a national sentiment. Party wars are Remotttally raging there,-indiutleirri eten.by,thepress with a rau cor and fierceness against individuals - whit:lb:exceed British— almost Irish seemitto 1:116( daring a year'ktia:voi T ln the y„`a e ir e ixkiiiiiciieifielmoti.a-blow at Irving. All znon,,held , their, (h it; hay:MlAs, friendlyppgici::' tune &I iotief-hioLik' tNew York, Piiladelpizia, j w.rlat.o . 1 Lifa n in s tbVregl..emirl, %Pi . e 4oTtPFAf Authetijiatilisied jaiely at. - Pb6adelp ion by ItYr y tp%a Baltimore and Washington,* and remarked how in every placed *is bbnorad ad wel come. Every large city has its "'lrving House." The country takes pride in the fame of its men of lettere. The zeta of his own charming little domain on the beautiful Hudson River was foreier swinging before visitors who Came to him. Ile shut out no Zone.t I had seen many pictures of his house, .and read descriptions of itfin both - of - oVdc it was treated with ,a not unasual American exaggeration.. It was but a pretty little cabin of a place; the gentleman of the press, who took notes of the place while his kind old host was sleeping, might have visited the whole house in a couple of minutes. And bow crinter‘ it that thia-bouse.was so small; when Mr. Irving's books were sold by • hundreds of thousands, nay millions, when his profas Were known to be large, and the habits of life of the good old baohe- Jor were notoriously modest and simple? He loved once in hielife. The lady be lov ed died; and he, whom all the world loved, never. sought to replace her. 1 can't say how,much the thought of.that fidelity has touched-ftra. Does not the very cheerfulness of his after-life add, to the . pathos of that un told story? To grieve always was not-his nature; or, when he had his sorrow, to bring all the world in to condole with him and be moan it. Deep and quiet he. lays the love of His heart, and ,buries and, the grass and floweriegitnr -- over - the s'Ared'ground in due tiiol7::i Ming-luta such a small' bonus find` such narrow, Jeeps, because. there was ,a great number of persona • ncoupy them. He could only afford to keep one old horse (which, lazy and aged as it was, managed once or twice to run away with the careless old horseman). lie could only afford to give plain sherry to that amiable British paragrph-monger from New York, who saw the'worthy patriarch asleep over his modest, blameless cup, and' fetched' the public into his private Chamber to look at him. Irving would only live very modestly, because 'the wifbless, childless man had a number of children to whom he was as a father. He had as many as nine nieces, I am told—l saw trio of these ladies at" his-house--.with all of whom the dear old man had shared the produce of his labor and genius. "Ac a good man, my dear." One ean't but think of these last words of the - veteran Chief of Letters,Who had tasted and tested the, value of worldly success, admiration, prosperity. Was Irving not good, and, of his works, was not hip" life the _beet part? In his family gentle, generous, good-humor ei,.affectionate, self-denying: in ,society, a delightful example of complete gentleman hoed; quite unspoiled by prosperity; never obsequious to the great. (or, worse still, to base and mean, ns some publics men are forced to be in his and other countries); eager to" acknowledge every cotemporary's merit; always kind and affable - with the young members of his calling; in hie profes sional" barg'ains nod mercantile dealings delicately 'honest and grateful; one of the most charming'masters of our lighter lan guage; the constant' friend to us and our nation; to men of letters doubly dear, not for his wit and genius merely, but as an ex emplar of goodness, probity and pure life. I don't know what sort of testimonial will be raised to him in hie:own country, where generous and enthusiastic acknowledgment of American merit is never wanting; but Irving was in our service as well as theirs; and as they have placed a stone at Greenwich yonder in memory of that gallant young Benet, who shared the perils and fate of some of our Arctic seaman, I would like to hear of some memorial raised by English writers and friends of affectionate remem brance of the dear and good Washington Irving 511 50 As fur the:other-writer, whose departure many friends, some few most dearly loved relatives, and multitudes of admiring read erif - dislater*, - Itan , friagaiblie has already: de creed 'his statue; and' lie must leiakinoWn" that he had earned this post-humous honor. Ile is not a poet and man of letters merely, but citizen, statesman, a great British worthy. Almost .from . the first moment, when he appears aineeg boys, among col lege students, among men, he is marked; and takes rank as a great Vaglishman. lie takes his seat there; he speaks, when so minded, without party anger or intrigue, n t-eiit:without ' faith 4 taiia , a' sort- of heroic enthusiasm fa his .cause. Still he is pest and philosopher even more than orator. That he may have' leisure and means to pur sue his ;.dairling studies he absents himself cpris.while t end!accept* trickily re munerated post in the nast. As learned a man may a cottage or a college cam= mon-room: but it always seemed to me that ample means and recognized rank were Ma caulay's us of right: — "Years, ago there was a wretched outcry raised because Mr. Ma caulay dated a letter from. Windsor Castle, •At Ws.hington. Mr. Irvitag vane to a lecture given by the writerjadilidtlllF Pilbrioierainitlitimial Pierce, the Pretddent and the - Presided' elect, were also 'kind enough sr:at:end together.' 4 7Tato Brelnford smelling at one rose,",says Irving, looking up with his good-humored atalle.•; . , - • 1 Mr. Irving described to me with that htrotor"and good-humor wrltbo alsr b ys.ireptid tow„ crony other sisitore,a td el'fi4;Oirt ed it lb cuffing hit own country.) came s to Sunnyside, intreidoeerhinteelP4 freittgannittielt Othii;wineand 10112CE14011;•1111 in two days described Mr. Infer, his house, his nieces hisdeiMisidElits manner of dozing afterwasda, is a Netor,Yortipaper. Oa another ooh*L . shrb,:i r teingbide, 4 labOingt:"Pw:b tivetigi ~..wkiithe pariah, r 6e.mucturporingien !!NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, - NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNENG, MARCH:, 10 186 where ho was staying. Immortal gods! Was this not a fit guest for any palace in the world? or a -fit companion for any man or woman in it? I dare say, , after Auster litz; the old K. K. court officials and foot men sneered 'at Napoleon for dating from Seboenbrunn. But that miserable "Wind sor Castle outcry is au echo out of fast re treating old world remembrances. The place of such a natural chief was among the first of the land,•" and that "enantry is beat, ac cording to our British notion, at least,where the man of eminence has the best chance of investing his genius and intellect. If a company of giants were got together, very likely one or two of the mere six-feet:six people might be angry at theincontestable su periority of the very tallest of the party; and so I have hoard some London wits, rather peevish at Macaulay's superiority, complain that he occupied too much of the talk and so forth. Iliow that wonderful tongue is to speak no more, will not many a man grieve that he no longer has the chance to listen? To remember the talk is to wonder: to think not only of the treasures he had in his memory, but of the trifles be had stored there, and could produce with equal readi ness. Almost on tho last day I had the for tune to see him, a conversation happened suddenlyto spring up about senior wrang lers, and what they had done in after life. To the almost terror of tte persons present, Macaulay began with the senior wrangler of 1801-2-3-4, and so on, giving the name of each, and relating his subsequent career and rise. Every man who has known him has his story regarding that astoishing memory. It may be he was not ill-pleased that you should roeognize it; but to these prodigious intellectual feats, whioh were so easy to him, who would grudge his tribute of homage? His talk WAS, in a word, ad mirable, and we admired it. Of the notices which have appeared re garding Lord Macaulay, up to the day when the present linos are written (the 9th of January), the reader should not deny himself the pleasure of looking especi ally at two. It is a good sign of the times when such articles as these (I mean the ar ticles in the Itmes and Saturday Review) appear in our public prints about our pub lic men. Theyeducate us, as it were, to admire rightly. An uninstructed person in amusoum or at a concert may pass without recognizing a picture or passage of music, which the connoisseur by his side may show him is a master-piece of harmony, or a won der of artistic skill. After reading these papers you like and respect more the person you have admired so much already. And so with regard to Macaulay's style; - there may be faults of course—what critic can't point them out? But for _the nonce we are not talking about faults; wo want to say, nil nisi bonum. Well, take at hazard any three pages of the Essays or History; and glimmering below the stream of the nara tire, as it were, you, an average render, see one, two, three, a half score of alluions to other historic facts, characters, literature, poetry, with which you aro acquainted. Why is this epithet used? Whence irthat simile drawn? How does he manage, in two or three words, to paint an individual, or to indicate a landscape? Your neighbor, who has his reading and his little stock of litera tures towed away in his mind, shall detect more points,allusions,bappy touches,indicitt ing not only the prodigious memory and vast learning of this master, but the wonderful industry, the honest, humble, previous toil of this great scholar. He reads twenty books to write a sentence; he travels a hun- dred miles to make a fine deseiiption.— Many Londoners—not all—have seen the British Museum Library. I 'speak a carer ouvert, and pray the kindly reader to bear with me. I have seen all sorts of domes of Peters and Peals, Sophia, Pantheon—what not?—and have been struck by none of them so much as by that Catholic dome in Blooms bury, under which our mallet] volumes are housed, What peace; what love, what truth, what betuty, what happiness fur all, what generous kindness for you and me, are here spread out! It seems to me one cannot sit down in that place without a heart full of grateful reverence. I own to have said my grace at the table, and to have thanked Heaven fur this my English birthright, free. ly to partake of these bountiful books, and to speak the truth I find there. Under the dome which held Macaulay's brain, and from which his solemn eyes looked out on the world but a fortnight since, what a vast, brilliant, and wonderful store of learning was ranged! What strange _lore would ho not fetch at _your bidding! .& volume-of law or history, a book.of poetry familiar or forgotten--eapept.4, himself who forgot po thing—a novel ever so old, ana he had it at ' hand; I spoke to him once about °lariats. "Not read Clarissa!". he eried out. "If you have once thoroughly entered oa Clarissa; and are infected by it, you can't leave it. WheiVi'Maitialocrttiawairdd -.Otte het:Ol son atthe bills, and there were the governor geneial; tho"gefrern merit, and , theeou;mender-in-chief,aadfheir wives. I, had ; Clarissa- with-ism and, as sootrii they 'began - to - read, , the whole itsoi den "e*Olteilientl4)ont Miss kit. iigire•gtpill'eigkarll3eni-tua far sooandrelipLovelategclTbosesatittor!alwifo seised • the book,•and 'the'lleereterratited for:kieitthOokierjaetrc4iird:xt'a;'Fitarfit for tearsi ; ' ,Ha.seted.:Ahlveheieuseene; be paced up and' down - the Aghenteinal ibrary; I dare.se,y,he . could, have ,sp4iiiciieiee of the book—of that book and of what count less piles of others! In this little paper let us keep to the text of nil nisi bonum. ,One paper I have read regarding -Lord Macaulay says' Ini had no. heart." Why, a man's books may not al ' ways speak the truth, but they speak his mind in spite of himself; and it seems to me this man's heart is beating through every page he penned. He is always in a storm of revolt and indignation against wrong, craft and tyranny. How he cheers heroic• resistance; how he backs and applauds free dom struggling for its own; bow he Ilan scoundrels ever so victorious and successful; bow he recognizes genius, though selfish villians possess itl The critic who says Ma caulay had no heart might say that Johnson had none; and two men more generous, and more loving, and more hating, and more par tial, and more noble, do not live in our his tory. The writer who said that Lord Macauley had no heart could not know him. Press Writers should read a man well, and all over, and again; and hesitate' at feast, be fore they speak of those aicloia. These who knew Lord Macauley knew how admirably tender, and generous, and affectionate he was. It was not his business to bring his family before the theatre foot-lights, and call for bouquets from the gallery as he wept ever them. If any young man of letters reads this little sermon—and to him indeed it is ad dressed—l would say to him "Bear Scott's words in your mind, and 'be good my dear; " Here are . two literary men gone to their account, and, taus Deo, as far as we know, it is fair, and open, and clean. Here is no need of apologies for shortcomings, or ex planations of vices which would have been virtues but for unavoidable, etc. Here are two examples of men most differently gift ed; each pursuing his calling; each speak ing his truth as God bade him; each honest in his life; just and irreproachable in his dealings; dear to his friends, honored by his country; beloved at his fireside. It has been the fortunate lot of both to give unac countable happiness and delight to the world, which thanks them with an immense kindliness, respect and affection. It may not be our chance, brother scribe, to be en dowed with suoh merit, or rewarded with such fame. But tho-rewards of these men are rewards paid to our serried We may not win the baton or epaulets; but God give us strength to guard the honor of the flag. A Terrible Day My friend, Harry Saxon, is the most bashful of men, and he stutters; under the influence of excitement, he can hardly speak. Afflicted by a sense of shame, be would fain be dead and buried. To such a man life may be a daily struggle. My friend also is liable to misfortunes; so thnt, with a light heart and a groat capacity for en joyment, he is usually as miserable as hay Manichinn could desire. I seldom moot him but ho has some dire calamity to communi cate to me. And, as if by fatality, it is of a kind to redden the cheeks of a bashful man. I might tell you many extraordinary adventures that have befallen him. This was his last: My friend, you must know, is a very amiable amateur-cricketer, out of his bank. HeWill take the train at six o'clock in the morning to be down a hundred miles north lor west, to a match. On the occasion which led him to this disaster, he had traveled down north and played hie game with suc cess and satisfaction. But the next morn ing he bad to be up in town in time for the first official hour at his bank; so he made short work of it over night, and escaped to I bed at half past one, A. M.; breakfasted hastily at half past five, and hurried to the station as quickly as be could, arriving there twenty minutes too early, which cooled him—so much so that, when be en tered his carriage, he bethought him _that he had on his light cricketing trousers, , and might as well—since he had on a warm pair, and was alone in the carriage- 7 thange them and comfort his limbs. Ile remembered al so that he could not appear at the bank in light flannels. I hope no one will see any harm in that resolve. If ,the public should suggest there were modest cows in the pas turages he was flyitig by, and young corrup tible heifers, I have only to remark that Mr. Saxon was much above their level. As it was day, moreover, he could not offend the moon. Of course, I share the popular belief that we were born in - troasers, and never get out of them. I , would merely ob serve that the case of Mr. Saion was an ex ception to the rigid rule: Besides, - since be was only relinquishing one pair to resume another, the offense, however grievant, was but momentary, you will admit. Had be done all the honors to the renowned modesty of this island, -be would have draws the second pair over the first. I can only ex cuse his not doing this by the declaration' 'that he did not think of it; and . absolattely saw no harm in what he was doing. *: So Sir then, we will not exonerate him. Unfortar nately, the thought of a' change had not struck him till he had shot ahead - some miles. Andsngain, very unfortunately;Yas we say when we would alto the ,tfititnitatt-- ces iflearlyiatedithe 'ming:sondem= took off his tight flannels befits che Opened .his carpet bag to disemgageitisehick twenaV.-- Mr:Saxon is of somewhat hasty- tempera= meat, slow to conceive, quick: to exacts-r-s fine. quality which oocasionallyjeads to trou ble, for, while:be was unstrapping bin bag, , the tinin humsibly slackened speed, and suddenly_ stopped. Oa peiceiving this alarming fact, Mr., Saxon pulled on the straps with tremendous vigor, a second or so, and then looked out of the window with a face outwardly as composed as any ordi nary traveler with no burden on his mind and with clothing on his legs, may wear.— What the feelings of a bashful man so placed rapt have been, I need not 'tell you. Analysis, if we wished to defend him before a jury of prudes, might be justifiable; but you will noti r eguire it. Mr. Saxon's heart gave a be There wasa lady addres sing the guard, who pointed down in the di rection of Mr. Saxon's head, and led her swiftly on. Mr. Saxon made a final effort to array himself in one or the other pair, gave it despairingly up, and thought it best to block the window and look extremely unin viting! Ile could not believe that bis for tune could be so cruel as to send this la dy straight to bite at a time when, without wishing to be uncoorteove, be profoundly devoted her to Jericho. Ire was forgetful of his experience. Some men have a great hoard of experience, and only see it by the lurid light of new distresses. Now, Mr. Saxon should, no doubt, have , spoken and warned the lady off . Me stuttered, I have told you. Ile did epeak, but he wns unin telligible. The guard wrenched at the door. Mr. Saxon had just time to hide hit; nether failings under a railway rug, which he had providentially with him, when the door opened, and the lady became hilt companion. The train whistled blithely, and off they went. Now, my friend Harry Saxon tells me he considers it a curious thing that the lady, after a little while, began to regard him with something lite astonishment. But the fact does not surprise . me, who know him. Nervousness is part of bashfulness, and, af fected by nervousness, we are apt, without knowing it, to grimace strangely. To speak metapbysisially, and with enlightened ob scurity, we think of ourselves to such an excess that we grow oblivious to our actions. I dare say you all understand. "M-adaml" said Harry, after several im potent efforts. • The lady replied, "Sir," or "Yes." Ile chronicles it exactly, but I forget. "Ha-a-a-ha—are you going the whole way to t-t-t-t-town?" said Harry, grasp ing holding on to his rug with both hands. "No, sir," said the lady, haughtily, cold ly and shortly. "What a blessing!" thought Harry, sink ing back. The lady opened a book. At the next station, Harry looked at her imploringly. She would not go. "Perhaps," thought Ha - rry, "she's going on to the last 'station but one!" There he was sure the carriage would be filled.' He begged politety of her to tell him when she intended to quit the train. "Really," said the lady. "May I inquire, sir, why you are so anxious to know?" "Not at all," said Harry, speaking enig matically as he looked. The lady resumed her reading. An old gentleman, with two young ladies, now en tered the carriage. Harry tightened and compressed the rug, and sat glaring at them. "At all events," thougLt Harry, "they can't make me" move.". This consolatory notion had hardly whispered its barren com fort to him, when a slight shock was felt. He slaved himself from going into the old gentleman's arms. Happily, the ladies were too much alarmed to notice his disc composure. "What's the matter?" said the old gen tleman. The train had come to a stand. "Oh! what it?" cried all the ladies. "Stop a minute, my dears," said the old gentleman. "Don't be so 'alarmed. Per haps one of us had better go out and speak to the guard." "Oh, papa, you shall not go!" exclaimed the young ladies; and the ono who was alone etelaimed— "Perhaps we shall be safer out than in." The young ladies reiterated that their papa should not go. A common eye was di rected to Harry, who sat,. with a fiery face, trying to appear perfectly unconscious. "Well, if I Mayn't go," said the old gen tleman, "perhaps this gentleman will?" Hero was a direct appeal.. Harry pre tended not to hear. "Oh! it must be something dreadful!" cried the ladie.%., "Will you oblige us,, sir," said the soli tary lady, ,oy getting out and speaking to the guard?" She addressed poor Harry. Mr. Saxon:grimmaced horribly. "I should be h—a—a—happy---' " he began. "Jost ask him 'if there's any apprehen sion o 1 danger;" thinking that he spoke in the assenting tense. "I • k—k—k—k—can't!" says HarrY: The tidies - regarded "him with 'wonder. All Harry's hopes were that they would get ouVand - leavelim. • Danger, rain, dreadful sznashes; , he was indifferent to; .anything was better than' his present torment ' "Chet speak; sir?" said the' old -gentle ."Can't m-o-o-o•-moveP' says Harry. "Na-legs-.4h? Dear met" the old gen tleman obserred.‘ Auld-jet-the rug display ed a.' pair-in• outline. ::"Paratysia—lower limbet rDessmel" Several persons were out of the train by sl' o so PER. YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IP NOT IN ADVANCE this time. - The old gentleman and all the ladies got out too. Word was passed that there was a general order to evacuate the carriages. Harry heard the old gentleman say: "We mustn't leave that poor fellow. We must help him out." Meantime, he was at his carpet-bag again. One clear minute to himself, and Harry would be a man. He cared not to risk his life for one clear minute to himself. Before a quarter of the time had expired, and while the garments dangled unfilled, the old gentleman opened the door, and inform ed Harry that he was prepared to help him out. There also stood the ladies, looking most charitably. "Do p—p—p—please shut the door," says Harry. "Cinne, sir!" said the old gentleman, "you must come out. Giro me your band." "I k—k—k—can't, I tell you," says Harry. "But I will help you, sir," said the old gentleman. "I won't," says Harry. , "You must be mad, sir—you must bo stark mad," said the old gentleman. Pushed to extremity, Harry answered— "So I am." "Then you must be dragged out, sir— dragged out by forcd—main force, sir. Guard!" shouted the old gentleman. The guard came up, but only to say it was a false alarm. The train had shaken off one of the carriages, and turned a few sheep into mutton. All was right now, and everybody was to step in. Off they went once more. It is really cruel to dwell on Mr. Saxon's miseries, and the incidents which were per petually aggravating them and driving him to frenzies of distraction. At one place, a lady entered who could not ride with her back to the engine. He was positively— being the only one facing it—asked to favor her by changing seats; and, gallant by na ture, courteous, obliging, he bed to stutter a downright refusal. But realise his position, and I think you will admit that, for a bash ful man, Mr. Harry Saxon endured four hours of mortal misery that it would be hard to match. Excessive cilvilizati in, you see, has its troubles. It may seem rather unkind to leave him in the state I have left hires in. I will justify this artistic stroke by assuring you that Mr. Saxon is, I have no doubt, whatever, at the moment I speak to you perfectly prepared to make his Low in most exqisite society. The Rescue. FROM "FOOTFALLS ON THE BOIINDARY OP ANOTHER WORLD." Mr. Robert Bruce, originally descended from some branch olthe Scottish family of that name, was .born, In humble circum stances, about the alone of the last century, at Torbay, in the south of 'England, and there bred up to a sea-faring life. When about thirty yearsof age, to wit, in the year 1838, he was first mate of a bark trading between Liverpool and St. Johns, Now Brunswick. Oa one of her voyages bound westward, being then some five or six weeks out, and having neared the eastern portion of. the banks of New Fuundfind, the captain and mate bad been on deck at noon taking an observation of the sun; afte►twhich they both descended to calculate their day's work. The cabin, a small, one, was immediately at the stern of the vessel, and the short stairway descending to it ran athwart ships• Immediately opposite to tbis•stairway, just beyond a small square landing, was the mate's state-room; and from that landing there were two doors, close to each other, the one opening aft into the cabin, the other fronting the stairway into the state-room. The desk in the state-room was in the for ward part of it, close to the door; so that • any one sittiong at it and looking over his shoulder could see into the cabin. The mate, absorbed in his calculations, which did not result as Ito had expected, varying eonaiderably from the dead-reckon- As they approached, thtt captain's gla' ing, had not noticed the captain's motions. t disclosed the face that it was a dismast,. When be bad completed his calculations, he ship, apparently frozen to the, ice, and wi called out, without looking round, "I make a good many human beings on it. Short our latitude and longitude so and so. Can i after they hove to, and sent out the boats that be right? Row is yours?" the relief of the sufferers. Receiving no reply, he repeated his ques- It proved to he a vessel from Queb , Mon, glancing over his shoulder and per- , bound to Liverpool, with passengers ceiving, as he thought, the captain busy board. She had got entangled in the i writing on his slate. Still no answer. and frozen fast, sad had passed 'Me Thereupon be rose, and, as he fronted the weeks in a most critical situation. She v cabin-door, the figure he had mistaken for stove, her decks swept—in fact, a tal . the captain raised his head and disclosed to i wreck; all her her provisions and almoit the astonished mate the features of an entire her water gone. Her crew and passengc stranger. had lost all hopes of being saved, and tin Bruce was no coward; but, as be meth gratitude fur the 'unexpected rescue yr: that - fixed gaze looking directly at him, in pkoportionately great. grave silence, and became assured that it As one of the men who had Leen brougli" was no one whom he had over seen before, away in the third boat that had reached th - it was too much for him; and, instead of wreck• was ascending the ship's side, sli stopping to question the seeming intruder,' mate, catching a glimpseof his face, starte I lie rushed upon deck in such evident alarm I back in consternation. It was the very fac -, that it instantly attracted the captain's at-he had seen, three or four hours:before, loot , tention. "Why, Mr. Bruce," said the latter. ' ing up at him from the Captains desk. • "whatin the world is the matter with you?" At first he tried to. psessaulli himself "The matter, sir? Who- is that at your , might be fancy; but theocore he esithi c the. man the wioriteurete became that i was right; -Not oily the face, but the p - son laid the trail, exactly oosteipoliled. Assam la the eilhansted onenii and fam• desk?" "No one that I know of." "But there w, sir; there's a stranger there." " "A , strangerl - Why,' insn, I , ou Intiobt be dreaining. You must hive neen'tH. steward; or second - :mato. Wbn oho iniuld'rentinr down witbout - orders?" . • • 7, "Bat, sir; be woe sitting in your arm= [WHOLE NUMBER 1,541. !chair, fronting the door, writing on your elate. Then he looked up full in my face; and if ever I saw a man plainly and die. tinctly in this world, I saw him." "Him! Whom?" "God knows, sir; I don't. I BEM a man, and a man") hod never seen in my life be- fore." "You must be going cramp, Mr. Bruce. A. stranger, and we nearly six weeks out!" "I know, sir; but then I saw hint." "Go down and see who it is." Bruce hesitated, "I never was a believer in ghosts," he said; "but, if the truth must be told, sir, I'd rather not face it alone." Come, come, man. Go down at once, and don't make a fool of yourself before the crew." "1 !rope you're always found me willing to do what's reasonable," Bruce replied. changing color, but if it's all tho same to you, sir, I'd rather we should both go down together." The captain descended the stairs, and the mate fulowed him. Nobody in the cab in! They examined the state-rooms. Nut a soul to be found. "Well, Mr. Bruce," said the captain, "did not I tell you you had been dreaming?" "It is all very well to say so, sir; but if I didn't see that man writing on your slate. may I never see my home and family again!" "Ah, writing =the slate! Therrit should be there still." And the captain took it up. "By God!" be exclaimed, "here's some thing, sure enough! Is that your writing. 111 r. Bruce?" "The mate took the slate, and there, in plain, legible characters, stood the •words "STEER TO TAE NOR'WEST!" "Have you been trifling with me, ski.'" added the,captain in a atern.manner.. "On my word, as a man t.nd a sailor, sir," replied Bruce, "I know 'no more of this matter than you do. I have told you the exact troth." The captain sat down at his desk, the slate before him, in deep thought. At last, turning the slate over and pushing it to wards Bruce, he said: "write down, •Steer to the nor'west.' " The mate complied, and the captain, af ter narrowly comparing the two handwrit ings, said: "air. Bruce, go and tell ti.. second mate to come down here." pe name, and, at the captain's request, ho also wrote the, same words. So did ill- steward. So, in succession, did every times• of the crew, who could write at all. Bo', not one of the various hands, resembled, any degree, the mysterious writing. When the crew retired, the captain sat i a deep thought. "Could any one have bet-. stowed away?" at last he said. "The eh must be searched; and if I don't find t fellow he must be a good hand at hide-an seek. Order up all hands." . Every nook and corner of the vessel. Ire stem to stern, was thoroughly searched, a:. that with all the eagerness of excited cu:. osity—for the report had gone oat that '- stranger had shown himself on board; h:_•. not a living soul beyond the crew and tl• officers was found. Returning to the cabin after their frill less search, Mr. Bruce," said the captaii., "what the devil do you make of all thier "Can't tell, sir. I saw the man you see the writing. There must be som thing in it." "Well, it would seem so. We have a.. wind free, and I hero g great mind to kec,. hor away and see what will come of it." "I surely would, sir, if I wore in yo place. It's only a few hours lost at 11 worst." • "Well, we'll see. Go on deck and giv the course nor'weat. And Mr. Bruce," 1 added, as the mate rose to go, "bare a 100 out aloft, and let it be a hand you can e pond on." Ills orders were obeyed. . About thr o'clock the lookout reported an . is .be' nearly ahead, and, shotly after, what I thought was a vessel of some kind close t it. isbed:paasengers•wire , eineadt for, - and barlitin' tiara:curse tbe:;teate• oall4".. the captaitrasider 4 1t:aeitium that tree rv erghoatl baw CiAliiirrair; the mran'a alive "Timed° you mean? - Who'. alive' EMI
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