pjRCQGE. Editor.
VOLUME 215
[For the Phtla'deJpMa I venlrg Bulletin.]
BASH MBPS,
The day is short and a drab vapor rolls up
from the Bay of Biscay.
The standard of the white umbrella is
planted by the river, and a landscape man
is making a study of the river path, where
it balances upon the saddle of a little hill
and dips invitingly over into mystery
•among the interlaced beech trees. Just
upon this climax in the career of the river
path is placed Grfigoire Canivet, a young
-model. The tender traoery of the beeches
-arches over him, and a late salmon leaps
sometimes in the dimpled river at his feet.
A figure-man is studying him, and the
-schools of landscape and of genre, usually
•so hard to. reconcile, are blended under the
peaceful white umbrella.
“Now,Gr6goire, assume a sad expression.
You are a consoript, you know. The order
-with yonr number on it is folded and thrust
beside the feather in your hat, and you
grasp your club and start away. But you
you have paused a moment and uncovered
while you throw a last salute to Pon’-
Am’n, your native town. So wear an air
-of emotion.”
GrSgoire, instead, breaks into one of his
■unusual smiles. The corner of his mouth
•curls, his long, pale cheek trembles, and the
color flutters in it like aflame. His teeth
show like a row of dice. Presently he re
curs to business.
JfAs this?” he says, and on examination
he is found to have pointed his eyebrows
like a tragic mask, and rolled his large wet
eyes well around to the spire of the town
church. It is not a bad bit of provincial
-acting.
Gregoire was captured at a Pardon. Kneel
ing amongthe pious devotees, with his natu
rally refined face solemnized by the occa.
■ sion, and the long chestnut lashes lying on
his cheek, he looked like some very pre
cious Saint Sebastian by Velasquez. TTia
•suit was violet, heavily embroidered, and
3iis hair was sliced off short above the brows,
•while it blew away in a brown cloud be
hind. In that aspect he was a distinguished
'Vandyke. The Muse saw, marked him for
Jher own, and swooped off with him Gany
mede-like. ‘
It is not easy to find ■& single leaf in the
fall that will look so red as the red woods-
Itwas long before we met a peasant who
seemed to represent the peasantry. I knew
'.them for some rare qualities. I knew that
they were imaginative, proud, reserved,
iself-respecting; but the individual who had
-all' ', those qualities equally marked only
turned up when Gifigoire turned up those
deep eiyes of his at the elevation of the host.
Gr<" "-lire is the son of an honest farmer.
He iv a linguist, and speaks a very fair
-Frei- iv besides his Breton. His hand
writing is like copperplate, and he is exact
to pedantry with his accents and cedillas •
He lias a bit of the self-love proper to seven
teen, and does not pose with avidity. When
we bad dragged him, much-reluctant, to
the work-room, there was another task be
fore ns in settling him into his father’s baggy
knee-breeches. These were dear to ns from
their pictorial qualities, but the leg of Gr£
goixe loathed them, and was as difficult to
; bag as a wide-awake cat.
“They are no more pretty, those. They
: are not for me, they are my father’s. Men
•do not wearfflem more like that.”
young exquisite can slip into
Ibis Sunday inexpressibles, made, appa
rently out of carpet, in the complicated sys-
-tem of attachment known to our grandaires
die regards himself in the fountain 'with
much complacency, as gilded by the meri-
dian ray of fashion.
■ We find a charm in bringing the nine
teenth century to bear npon a character of
native intelligence, bat all unmodernized.
We carried him to meet a vagrant photo-
; grapher f 'who submitted him to his myste
•rious chemistry, and showed him his conn
•terpart at the end of a few seconds. The
'hoy, who had sat faultlessly—“like an an
igelj”. in i the ‘ words of the operator,—was
amazed and chocked. He made a searohing
.examination Of the portable dark-chamber,
in wbioh he .believed the miraculous artist
to reside, but could make nothing of it, and
hastened to place himselfin safety, going off
with his head down.
The other day while he was posing in the
some ene happened to be reading
aloud. It was the " Great Cossaek Epic” of
Thackeray. What do yon suppose was the
-effect, upon a fine but quite unaccustomed
ear, of the long march and flnenoy and
cadence of English verse? The effect was
“.not absolutely flattering to that sweet and
musical style. A subdued giggle was pro-'
-.sently heard from a heretofore silent oqfh
mentator. This was nipped in the bud, but
• was soon replaced by a prolonged and im
perious delirium of laughter, the long-pent
- expression of an immense derision. Thacke
ray was. singing his best, and Gregory was
laughing his londest.
The regular and strongly-marked metre,
so dear to us, seemed to him eminently
« absurd. In a kind of revenge we asked him
to declaim something in his tarn. The in
calculable vonth responded in the Roman
-dialect. He is not of the Emperor’s pet
Latin race,” but he answers questions in
Latin i The Celt, whom Caesar could never
:fairly conquer, has conquered Caesar’s
tongne.
The first exhibition’ of bis excellence as a
jienman took the form, of a rebuke. We had
indecorously forgotten ever to ask his
name; so, the first moment when he found
himself released for a term of rest,; he took a
apiece of chalk that lay by, and engraved his
title in large and beantifdl characters, across
the top of the table. In that; way he left his
card upon us—“GrCgoire Canivet.’’ The
Introduction effected, he was free to con
verse.
We gathered round, looking at the hand
_. '• ‘ I_L_* t r" . - 1 s i i
some script as Cimabue looked at Giotto's
sketch. It would have puzzled any of us to
match it, yet it was the work of a hand
rough from the flail. Finding pur attention
attracted, he proceeded to oblige us with
extracts in Breton, French and church-
Lalin. In the last named speech he recited
a prayer, which he ingeniously contrived to
make all one word—an attainment regarded
as one of the fine arts in Catliolio countries.
Such is the boy-Crichton, who stands
with his “air of emotion,” looking linger
ingly back to Pon’-Am’n. His abundant
hair lifts from time, to time in the misty
wind. He seems quite comfortable in the
searching damp, though his copyists are
only at ease in a multitude of winter wrap
pings. ■"■■■■ .
Sitting quietly at work hour by hour, the
little habits of peasant life come out one by
one, like wild things in the woods that only
appear after one has been still a long time
The place is just below the town, where, the
river, after passing the “fourteen houses
and fourteen mills.” which proverb confer
on Pcm’-Am’n, getsitfj first taste of the sea
and'slides eagerly forward to'meet the
fuller, flavor and the larger life. It
cnris voluptuously southward like a
smooth gray serpent, licking many castles
with cone-like roofs and pigeon-houses of
the size and solidity of chapels, set in the
fringing woods. Nearly opposite is the
principal mill, a crumbling structure of, the
middle ages, with gargoyles at the corners
that watch the artists working with the real
mediaeval sarcasm in’their faces. Theriver
upon its entrance into liberty is beset with
obstructions in the shape of enormous
granite boulders. One of these,precisely in
front of the white umbrella, has the form of
a well-modeled foot, or rather shoe, twenty
feet from heel to toe. The poetical dreamers
around are unable to improve unon *hi« play
of nature. From the foot, Heroules. They
hang over it in the air, a shadowy image,
with monstrous head nodding high above
the town. It is the hero of romances, Gar
gantua. The stone is his shoe.
Enormous sand-barges float up the river
with the entering tide, and deposit their
sea-treasure at onr feet. Sometimes a fish
leaps, sometimes a white sea-bird rides
screaming over. The rude farmers from
the inner country, with their wild dress and
lumbering round-bottom carts, approach
for loads of sand.. It is used for lightening
the soil, while the proportion of shell-fish
serves as a manure. One would think the
very bean-blossoms of such a land would
smell of the sea. The tall, narrow women,
in their lofty- white caps, pass and repass,
knitting ,or spinning. Their silence is a
sombre reflection from their sad, inarticu
late lives.
Even the children are not very sportive.
One has found a wooden shoe, and having
rigged it with a square sail in imitation of
those raised by the sardine-sohooners, has
effected a rather brilliant launch; bat the
ourrent is eager and treacherous, and bears
it ironically against the Shoe of Gargantua.
The giant quietly trips the poor sabot with
his granite toe, and youth sits weeping
while its venture washes helplessly about
in the confused eddies of the tide.
Two more children, hovering around the
painters in a style of bashful persistency,
presently succeed in arresting attention.
They are of the same height and dressed to
match, in overpowering extinguisher
aprons, and round caps smothering their
young heads. Each bears a pretty little
nosegay of dahlias and margarets. The
saucy one makes the timid one do the talk
ing, stooping behind and flashing her hand
some eyes over her sister’s shoulder. They
are model candidates, Some poor mother
confident in the beauty of her little daugh
ters, and having a mastering necessity for
a franc, has set them adrift to see what for-
tune they will meet with the strange gentle
men. She has pulled out the stray brown
curls attractively from under their little
visors, giving their little skirts the la3t pat
and the last twitch, folded their small fin
gers around the posy,, and launched, them-'
They play their own part not inaptly,'
sporting stiffly about with-a sense Of being
in their best olothee, and looking so quaint
and'old-fashioned that it will be hard in
deed if they do not fit into soime part of the
autumn landscape.
Some of the children eternally carry other
children.. One little boy, with an excep
tionally large bat, has never been seen
without a powerful blonde baby in his
arms, drying up his spring of life and 'giv
ing him permanent curvature of the spine.
Where art is, he is. It is impossible to see
him arrive, but he is always developed by
a backward turn of the head—his dirty foot
upon his native soil, his frame sinking under
the baby,.and an expectanoy of centuries in
his silent eyes.
' At the cottage mothers tend npon
other children, with accomplished patience
and good temper, earning what woman ever
earns in savage communities—the neglect
and contempt of the man by their devotion
to the child.
Suddenly a thought strikes somebody,
and we say to our model, .
“GrOgoire, why don’t you go and be
kloarek ?”
The kloareks are the sizars of the priest’s
colleges. The poor peasant recruits are
hardly used at first, but they have an ulti
mate chance of distinction, and at any rate
of education. They are the last vestige of
the poor clerks of the middle ages,who used
to people the fetid streets of the. University
of old Paris, gay and reokless; Bohemians
defending themselves with their clubs from
the rapiers of the nobler collegians, and
doffing slavishly when a robed professor
would pass on his mule, ! '
“Gr&golre, why are you not a kloarek?”
• The young man starts and hesitates.
My father wants me for the rye and
buckwheat. lam not good enough to make
a priest; and then —: —”
—His .eyes are thrown in a speaking man-
PHILADELPHIA, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15,1866.-TRIPLJS SHEET.
ner upon a radiant girl who passes. We
understand why he will not go and be
kloarek.
The girls have began to come for water to
the fountain. It is nearly sapper time. 1
One after another has disturbed ns in the
path, and this time it is Mona. Mona may
be Been all day long when it is sonny, em
broidering lace at the door, upon the quay.
Mona’s cheek is rich and round, her eye-,
brow is a lovely brown arch, and as she
passes ns towards the spring, she for one
instant raises her fnH dark eye—a moment’s
dewy cairngorm. She, after all my pretty
peasants, is by all odds, the loveliest girl in
Fon’-Am’n. She has a head and bearing fit
for Kapbael. Her water-jar sits upon her
brow like some peiieet Corlnttaian capital.
Why is not Grtigoire a eloarek?
We were all nid-nodding,all nid-nodding,
three little fishing-boats together, with crazy
politeness, while disputing each other’s en
trance to a stony cove in the Bay of Biscay.
A sharp gale had frightened in the fisher
men before their nets were a" quarter foil,
and Marteau and I, who had come down the
river to take onr last look; at the open sea
coast Jbefore yielding to Paris, were a little
tired of our adventure and glad to land. The
coast was in a fret It ground ; the white
froth among its iron teeth, and blew up puffs
of steaming spray over the tops of its fore
heads and headlands. *
The place was so solitary and wild that
the natives had taken on a similar com
plexion, and, although very good-natured
had the appearance of wild men. Messrs’
Robinson Crusoe, Peter Wilkins and Enoch
Arden helped ashore an exceedingly damp
and smeary figure, which was the writer,
and assisted with his anchor another well
basted personage, who was my friend Mar
teau.
Frenchmen have special fortes. Marteau
Is especially strong as a traveling com
panion. Hailing from the environs of Brest,
and cast early on his own resources, he is
an inhabitant of all France, and at home
everywhere. In the .winter he lives in a
closet in Paris, a new Diogenes in a paok»
ing-box, and pours out a pheerfol fnnd'of
bad pictures at a very cheap rate. “I have
always supported myself,” says he. In the
summer he ties a calabash round his neck,
tightens his Breton girdle, straps on his
paint-box wrapped in his extra blouse and
trowsers, and pervades France. He has
read a good deal here and there, and talks.,
freshly about anything. Dike all of his"
class he scorns the reigning dynasty, and
listens with enchanted ears to thestoryof
freedom in America.
“I, I have hunger meanwhjte,” say B
Marteau,tightening expressively his scarlet
cincture. We all scramble upi the black
rocks, slippery with seaweed. The wind
scorns us and whips us up the craggy stairs
with lashes of tart spray. Marteau’s nose is
blue. There is a drop of sea-water on the
end of that chiseled feature, and some
choice aigse mixed in his beard. I suppose
myself to besimilarly jeweled. Thewfidmen
accompany us, their nimble bare feet very
much at home among the stones. It is only
at first view their appearance is forbidding,
and they d rink from Marteau’s calabash like
infatuated Calibans,all the while chattering
their uncouth language. Our few words of
Celtic are found to go a great way, and we
Seep up an animated discourse despite the
roar, the boom of the delivered wave, and
the thundering rattle of the rocks it
sucked out to sea in its retreat.
Prom the promontory we can see a range
of other promontories, each set with its
small white signal-honse. In nookd among
the rooks are gathered great square stacks
of seaweed, greatly demanded hereabouts
for manure. Towards the river-mouth the
shores become more low and soft, and there
from the left bank, the merciful beacon lifts
its shining shaft, like the white found arm
of Hero, as she held the torch. •
An accidental-looking hut cowers among
the crags, as if it had ‘ been shipwrecked
there. Its shaggy thatch ia stirred, now by
a breath of thyme from the downs, now by
a cutting whistle from the sea. Marteau re
peats that he has. hunger. Small as it is,
mean as it is,lonelyand iudiacoverable as it
ls,.thehouBeis,yet a house Of call, and we
may buy there the simple hospitality which
satisfies the sailor, the wrecker, the farmer
and the fisher.
But I dare not call it an infi. It Isa grotto,
a low cave where these sea-bears hibernate;
Their season of work is nearly Over, and we
shall meet a crowdof them, with their slug
gish winter-habits thiok Upon them, blow
ing and snoring around the drift-wood fire.
The low, dark .fapade, the ffowning eayea,
bring to mind smugglers, Salvator Kosa,
Captain Kidd. Even Marteau takes to
singing tie sardonic refrain of the Latin
Quarter, ......
Fallait pas qn’y aille,
Faliait pas qu’y aille,
Fallait pas qu’y aille au cabaret!
As the door cleses behind Us we seem at
first to be in almost total darkness! One
low, Bquare window gives npon the SBa,
where the women may look anx ieusly out,
as the storm blows up, for the little oblong
sail; hut the old dose sash is dim, and loan
only see the edges, touched withsilvergray>
of a few of the nearest men. From the
window the long Breton table or dough
trough stretches well into the room. It Is
faced with two blaok carved benches of cor
responding length, and partly npon these,
partly upon the polished board itself,'sits
the crowd of sea-faring charactera/olashing
the chopines of oider fraternally together
among itself. . The house is a room, and the
room is a cave. It is low but spacious, and
the floor,- being the natural earth, represents
quitean expanse of rolling and variegated
country. The cave is a, caye of adventure!
of : discovery,- of darkness and mystery
Unsuspected - drunkardaare -constantly
rolling up from a condition of in
OUB WHOII COTOTRY.
i visibility and Tolling towards us with
1 lurching and pitching cidermugs, the intent
being to treat ns. I am constantly liable-.
’ n .§l9Piug forward, to tread upon some'
thing with ayoice and possibly a knife. I
grope because I see, i a long way in front of
nie, a few twigs burning uneasily in a great
black velvet-fireplace, and two , figures like
Egypti&u Memnons facing each-other in the
1 chimney l seats. They' are women - • young
and tall, and brown with the toil of raking
seaweed "where the sun beats upon 1 the rooks-
They : wear the hocdlike cap’of Nevez, like
the chain hoods of Knights Templars, They
have an iron, inflexible look, as they ait
with their right angle knees towards the’
fire, and lam npt Bure that that... they will
use us mercifully,. But. before attaining
their locality, I stumble upon a new disco
very—a baby.:
' In a -dark' and richly-worked antique
cradle at thp side of the tall-wardrobe* bed,
lies a lately ijom baby; Its bead-like eyes
unconsciously fixed, upon the great lumpof
lard that hangs by straps from the smoked
rafter,aboye, •As for.the. Infant personally,
it is theinereSttriflei.havliig given 'its whole
attention Itq. cephalic development. It is
wrappedfrom its feet to its neck in, a spiral i
bandage as tightiaa.-eyer it would wrap.
The head .is the resulting exaggeration*
swelling out in a windy mannerat the point
where the tourniquet 1 ceases.' I would de
scribe this youthful sailor as a chrysalis and
a bubble, and the bubble has a bonnet oil.
I Wish to prefer my requesfc td the mother
of this infant, if I can discriminate her.
Solomon has taught me how. A little at- government subsidies.
tention to the papoose educes one of the two The enormous stretch of country to be
women; she comes feebly forward, with a traversed by a road that will link the banks
grave and weary smile, and I now see that of the Missouri river with the shores of the
her oval brown faceias 1 on it something of Pacific, the eparsenessof a railway-Bustaiu
the holy light of maternity which laoks to ing population, except at the extremities of
her 1 companion. Soon she was languidly such a road, and the consequent expensive
bestirring herself about the breakfast of ness of the' line, without immediate lucra*
Marteau. tiveretums.haveheeninßupfcrableobstacles
I was not hungry, and did not partake, in the way of the building of a road that
But I fed my eyes and my thoughts at this would complete the spanning 0 f the conti
sea-meaL It was the .simplest I had ever Rent with iron. 1 To overcome these diffionl
seen. The mer-woman bent over her salt ties, and to accomplish at once what would
store, and produced a bowl, a wooden bowl otherwise have been a work of many years
of fresh sardines. the Government came to the aid of the en
“ Would he have them raw or cooked?’’ terprise, and under this stimulus the work
sbe asked innocently. is , going rapidly forward. The subsidy
Marteau selected . three or four of the granted to the companylstbegrant of alter
large&t fipecimens, and laid them: hirasel nate aections of land, twenty miles in
scientifically among the embers. Then breadth up on each side of the road, and six
opening his large pocket-knife he got a great teen thousand dollars per mile as the road
chip o£f the rye loaf—more like a mill-stone progresses. The soil Is generally the richest
tnan a loaf. This was the breakfast. It farming land ini the world, and the portion
the breakfast prepared eighteen hun- of it which fails to the lot of the Union Pa
dred years ago by the risen Lord for his sad cific Railroad, Eastern division, amounts to
disciples, when they came wondering to the handsome aggregate of twelve thousand
land, and saw afire of coals on the shore, eight hundred acres per lineal mile. The
and fish laid thereon; and bread. allowance in money is nofca gift to the com
. Also the barbarous people showed ua no pany, but rather a loan of the Government
little, kindness. They surrounded us about credit. As each section of twenty miles of
thh fire; lean, shaved faces, their the road is finished, it is Inspected by three
wild wet hair and strange garb, seemed like Sovernent Commmissioners.and upon their
a picture of fancy. Hundreds of years were certificate that the work has been properlv
displaced,'and Tthought that Jnst suoh a performed, bonds to the amount-of §320 000
group might have surrounded the earliest are issued to the company. These bonds
missionaries who came to braise the Droid bear six per cent, currency, interest, but as
altars and plant the cross along the road- they have thirfy years to run they are very
w ? yB ‘ . , „ desirable for investment, and thev rata
lam sorry to confess that the gospel we sligiltl y above par in the market. By wav
setm cation wan cider. It feU among of securing th&e bonds the Governmem
eager and Unrsty souls. ■ The missionaries tabes a second mortgage npoa toTd
hiatus wi£ fi^y embraces. w£
retained voices began endless ballads, lhe saine tenor ral chara3^r
made when the Bretou race was gallant Government bonds; but the interestupto
aggressive and hopeful. One man wasa them is payable in gold. P
native impfoyisator-a race well known to how the road is paying.
to evor f The road although only completed toEortr
and hearth. _ He answered the Riley, and having literally “nowhere”
simplest questions in ready poetry, the for ita weBtern te hninus, is doing abtS
metrebemgso plain that I could follow it neaa of about §65,000 per month. Include
! tZZXZt ih,
soaalities that flew hither and thither, end ml]ra ort Za. TM» JSSI m”
answered smartly back. The silent women tirelv local arid it will wa i oaten
by the fire, excluded from the society, heard S J greased
it all in lt stonily into their mu,?™,
Egyptian heads, as if they meant to use the other ptares in Lfar
S ° me ym “ 6bUllltlon ° f heretofore started in wagons freS£
■ souri river. There is already a savins-of
abouttoo^todln to S'us way>- **
suming an air of country frankness. lam upon the rompletfon of the
a plain apple, he says: I am not romantic By means of the overland mail and the reU
and poetical like your cherry and your fro- vay> Bofiir completed, letters are eren
p , almond-eyed peach; lam a burly, £ow, being carried, from Denver to* Hew
bouncing appfo,and you must take me as I York in five days. The celerity of moVe
am. But we may not take king as he says ment of which this is a sample has caused
he is. Tears and years ago, when he was the transfer to this route of the great British
yet green and far fiom sweet, I took him as letter mail for China via San Francisco/*
be t™ 8 ™? 11 T?* &»aflfeotSd ' PROGRESS OF THE WORET.
me!
reen moreof to tricks. He ha. taken my road wiU be completed to Fort Ellsworth,
Bret f ns - to ■“ d brought them to to . five hnndred'miles west of St. Louis, andiu
speciouucnp’-and-liSi-keepsthem-down and the heart of the buffalo country. : The In
site on them, Theyfiave no literature, nq dians.being unwilling to give up their rich
arts, no progress—it te the shade of the ap- hunting grounds along the Smoky Hill
ple- lxiuglv voice is not heard in the river, have given indications of a disposition
world—it is the cider-cup forever at their to be troublesome; but troops are stationed
bp, 8 ; , .•; i along the line of the road and the military
Marteau asked for the addition. authorities have promised that the work
“It wiU he three soueforthe cider andthe shall not he impeded by any: interference
bread. The fishes are.not charged.” ■ ! upon the part of the savages. At the recent
When we went out the tender autumn conferenceat Zarah, onthe Arkansas river
fight lay basking over a sceneof breaking below I-’ort Ellsworth, where three tfaou
waterS and rooky, lines such as Haseltine sand-Indians !of the Cheyenne, Arapahoe
loyes t° puink Tbe wmd swept sighing an d Camanche tribes were present, a large
over the broad heaths, sad with a sadness it numbe r of ponies and other presents
had borrowed from the sea. At our feet our we re 1 distributed among -the dusky skins
boat was : dancing tor im. Our abundant and they promised to keep the peach, a prei
wrappings had been dried and warmed in mli39 that they will keep so long m suite
the old inn; Marteau said we must soon their cohvenience, andso longM thev are
return for the tidewaa rising. . afraid to break it. But the march ofpro-
As for me, I thought of the two sfient greEa and civilization cannot be arrested
women by the fire. Ton see, lam come because a miserable set of vagabond savages
from a land of chevaliers. The low, mean (f or the Indians of that Territory are no
destiny of thefemale peasantry never ceases better) will neither join inlt aor stand iaaide
to affeot me powerfully.. That mother was In addition to the grtmtof land, under the
little more than a atrong, handsome, dumb pabifio Railroad act, the company recelvea
animali afiowed in the intervals of tofi to through a freaty made with the Government
lavish her fondness on hor babe a little with .the Indians, the lands known
while, and then doomed to see him grow up as the Delaware and Pottawattamie Re .
and treat her as an inferior. I have no ready serves of over half a milfidn aores. These
wordswith which to. make others feel the. lands', fie .in .Eastern Kansasand they are
oppression that .comes over foCiia seeing a beingsold by the Company to actual set
race of tor and stately women yoked to for one-third cash, and the remainder
Enfant Pjsbdit.
(i . ? .v. v
; ftnuiug implementa like oxen, and goaded
; all summer from the early sun to the tardy
shadow. A famous French picture repre-
I vents. “ The Close of the Day,” and a group
c>f Titan-women relieved against the flaming
; sl,ty, as they, rest their enormous arms
/among the sheaves: the sadness of which I
speak burns angrily,like a reproachful light;
throagh the picture.
I saw, upon this very, coast, a group of
three great creatures asleep among the
. crags, while the lastrays of a delicionssum
merßUa played upon the-dreaming ocean
behind them. They were fish-women, and
: their day’s top and their week’s toll/ ended
1 together on that heavenly Saturday after
noon. > The light made pictures, for . them ,
• the wild-flowers bloomed for them, all na
: tiire wooed them to rise, and Bmile, and en
joy. , Around them swam the Breton seas,
i the.sess .of old romance, tho seas that had
rocked their-heroes,--and guard still the
: Cradle-of/Merlin 1 and the Grave of Arthur.
But.there, upon, their stony beds, as if al
regdy in. the sepulchre, their faces; turned
from the fainfiag splendorsof the day, they
rested the rest that is a death. Dead they
were, “dead to life, and use, and name, and
fame,” until the . cruel day-god,, in his cir
cuit, should drag them up again to another
agony of toil and Btnpor. : Their rest was
cruel, like their work. Enfant Pkrdu. -
THE CMOS PAtme RHUteiD.
No. 11.
5\ Jj- FETEEKSiOK, PnliHsfe
TITO®-DENIS.;
to Uiree annual payments. The land is &
beautifulroUlng prairie.weil watered, yritk.
occasional patohes of timber, and especially
adapted to'stock or crop farming. ‘ >
.. AUVASTAOKS OF THE ROUTE.
The most prominent among the ad van--
tages claimed for this route, as compared,
with the more northern,or Omaha route, are
a 3 follows:
Tts centrality and the comparative near
nesss of the Rocky Mountains. It. is, in
fact, an extension of the Central Railroad
system, lying through St, liouis, ;
2. Wood, water and coal, all essentials of
railroading, are found along this route id
greater abundance than- upon the Platte.
In fact,there have aa yet been no discoveries
of coal npon the Platte; while it: crops out
frequently on the line qf the Union ! Pacific
road,,past of Port Riley. It .is also found
again in the foot-hills of ffie Morm
tains. . ~ •
_ 3. Greater fertility of soil and more equa
ble climate as evinced by the peach
“"ft?; . which have not been . known
t o lafi in the region of country, through
winch the road passes, since the introduc
tion of that kind of fruit. The winters are
mud, the falls of snow, are never sufficiently
.heavy to pause any obstruction of the road
in the winter season, which the more north
ern route from Omaha will be moreor leas
subject to from the severity of the climate
in Nebraska, and. the territory beyond.
The railroad ties used in the.construction.
of the road .are all of hard wood, ’the pre
vailing Umbers being black walnut-, hack
berry, oaks, hickory, etc,, etc:, while the
Umber used from Omaha, west, is chiefly
cottonwood and other soft woods. t
In the construction of the central road
the rail used is all of 56 pounds per lineal
yard, six pounds per yard heavier than the
requirements of the Government The iron
yard by offlaila road is fifty pounds per
THE CONNECTIONS OP THE EO4B.
At Kansas City the Union Pacific railroad
connects with the Missouri Pacific railroad
from St. Louis. The guage of the latter is 5
feet 6$ inches; bnt it is probable that it will
soon be changed to correspond with that of
the Union Pacific road, to wit i feet,B£
inches. The road has also a valuable outlet
and feeder in the Missouri river from Kan
sas city and Leavenworth.' At the placa
last named it has a connection (by : the way
ef Weston) with the Hannibal and St.
Josephs Railroad. This affords a connec
tion with Port Wayne and Chicago and the
entire East, the guage of aU the roads named
being the same and all corresponding With
that of the Pennsylvania Central.
, A : ‘-cut-off” of fifty-five miles in length is
now in process of construction from Kansab
city so as to connect the Hannibal and St
St. Josephs Railroad at Cameron. This will
probably be finished within a year. It has
been decided to bridge the Missouri river at
-Kansas city for this purpose.
Another road is being rapidly constructed
from Kansas City along the north; bank of
the Missouri river through the tobaCcb and
hemp counties of the State, to connect with
the North Missouri Road at Allen. Tha
Union Pacific Railroad has thus four valua
ble feeders and oritlets.
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
The route of the road through the Rooky
Mountains has not£yet beenjdefinitely fixedj
it will depend upon surveys which will be
made next spring; it will urobably go
through Denver, but in that event there
will be a branch to Santa Fe,leaving the
main line at Pond Creek, on the Smoky
Hill fork, about- seven hundred miles west
of St. Louis. , From Pond Creek to Santa
Fe is four hundred and sixty-one miles.
Denver is eight hundred and eighly-fbnr
miles west of St. Louis and at the foot of the
Rocky Mountains.
There are other facts in connection with,
this great enterprise that will be given in
another article upon the subject. -
Artificial Beauty.— The Bardness de
Staetccnfegsed that she would exchaugebalf
hoc knowledge for personal cHarms, tad
. consider it cheaply bought at-that price, ah
women know that if is bccmiy, rather than
'pewits, which all generations of men have
worshiped in the sex. Can it be wondered
at, then , that so much of woman’s time and
attention'shonld be directed to the means of
developing and preserving that beauty?
Women know, too, that when men speak
of the intellect of women, they speak criti
cally, tamely, cooly; but when they come
to speak of the charms of a beautiful wo
men, both their language and their eyes
kindle with an enthusiasm, which -shows
them to be profoundly, if not, indeed, ridi
culously,in earnest It is part of the natural
sagacity of women to perceive all this, tad
therefore employ every allowable art to be
come the goddess of that adoration. Preaeh to
the contrary as we may; against the arts
employed by women for enhancing their
beauty, there still stands the etemal feet
that the world does not prefer the sooiety of
an ugly woman of genius to that of a beauty
of less intellectual acquirements;
The world has yet allowed no higher mis
sion to woman than to be beautiful, and it
wouldrseem that the ladies of the present
age are carrying this idea of the world to
greater extremes then ever, for all women
new, to whom nature has denied the talis
manio poWer of beauty, supply the defi
ciency by the use of an enameling process
called “Email de Paris,” or in plain Eng
lish, “Parisian Enamel,” which has lately
been introduced into this; country by a
French chemist, a.delicate beautifier which
smoothes out all indentations, pock-marks,
fhrrows, scars,and imparts alabaster skins,
blooming-cheeks and farrowless -feces.
With the assistance of this hew French
trick of a ladp’s toilet,-female beauty is
destined to play a larger part in the; admi
ration of man, and the ambition Of women,
then all the arts employed since her crea
tion.—Home Journal. - t
George W. Carlkton will publish 'this
week Miss Evans’s new novel, “Bt.‘Elmb “
Tbe demand for this work is iinmense'- r a
single order for five thousand has' beta re
ceived by the publisher, and the first edition
will number several thousand more thin
any former novel, by the author. Carleton
is also printing toe seventh edition ofSwin
burne’s “Laus Veneris.”
Gen. Grant aod'son arrived in St. Louia
yesterday;