Footnotes:

"Sabæan odors, from the spicy shoresOf Araby the Blest!"

Our host endeavored to say something polite, and the animal, advancing toward the celebrity, stationed himself, familiarly, at his master's side, somewhat to the annoyance, probably, of the lady next him.

With the utmostsang froid, the "privileged character" held his finger-bowl to his dog, and remarked, as he eagerly lapped the contents, that he had eaten highly-seasoned venison at lunch!

"Foreigners," says Madame de Stael, "are a kind of contemporaneous posterity." This truth apart, I had sufficient reason to blush for my country, on more than one occasion, lately, while travelling at the West, in company with a well-bred young European. His own manners were so pleasing as to render more striking the peculiarities of others, and his habits so refined, as, when united with his large observation and intelligence, to make him an exceedingly agreeable person to associate with.

One hot day, during a portion of our journey performed by steamer, I looked up from my book, and saw him coming toward me.

"I have found a cool place, sir," said he, "and have come to beg you to join me—we shall be undisturbed there."

I rose, and was about to take up my seat.

"Allow me, sir! I am the younger," said he; and he insisted upon carrying my seat, as well as the one he had previously secured for himself. And this was his habitual phrase, when there was any occasion to allude to the difference in our years. He never said—"You are older than I am," or insinuated that my lameness made me less active than he, when he offered his arm, in our numerous promenades. The idea he seemed ever studying to express was, that he had pleasure in the society of the old soldier, and thought him entitled to respect and precedence on all occasions. Aside from the personal gratification and comfort I derived from these graceful and unremitting attentions, it was a source of perpetual pleasure to me to observe his beautiful courtesy to all with whom he came in contact. He had with him a land surveyor, or agent of some sort; with this person he, apparently, found little in common, but, when he had occasion to converse with him, I always remarked his punctilious politeness. And so with his servant; he alwaysrequested, neverordered, him to do what he wished. Reserved and laconic, when giving him directions, there was yet a certain assuring kindliness in hisvoice, that seemed to act like a talisman upon his man, who, speaking our language very imperfectly, would have often suffered the consequences of embarrassing mistakes, but for the clear, simple, intelligible directions and explanations of his master. But to return.

Scarcely were we seated quietly in the retired spot so carefully selected by my friend, when a couple of young fellows came swaggering along, and stationing themselves near us, began smoking, spitting and talking so loudly, as to disturb and annoy us, exceedingly.

"What a pity that this fine air should be so poisoned!" exclaimed my companion, in French, glancing at the intruders. "For my part,pure airis good enough for me, without perfume!"

"Do you never smoke?" I asked, in the same tongue.

"Certainly! but I do not smokealwaysandeverywhere! Neither do I think it decent to soil every place with tobacco-juice, as you do in this country!"

"It is infamous!" returned I. "Now just look at those fellows! See how near they are to that group of ladies, and then look at the condition of the deck all around them." As I spoke, the lady nearest the nuisance, apparently becoming suddenly aware of her dangerous proximity, hurriedly gathered her dress closely about her, and moved as far away as she could without separating herself from her party. Despite these indications, the shower continued to fall plentifully around, and the smoke to blow into the faces of those who were so unfortunate as to be seated in the neighborhood.

"Have you not regulations to prevent such annoyances," inquired the stranger.

"Every steamer professes to have them, I believe," returned I, "but if such vulgar men as these choose to violate them, no one even thinks of insisting upon their enforcement—every one submits, and every one is annoyed—that is, all decent people are!"

"Vive la Liberté et l'Egalité!" exclaimed the European, laughing good-humoredly.

As if echoing the mirth of my companion, a merry laugh from the group of ladies near us, arrested my attention at this moment. Without appearing to remark them, I soon ascertained that they were amusing themselves with the ridiculous figure presented by one of the smokers. His associate had lefthim "alone in his glory," and there he sat, fast asleep, with his mouth wide open, his hat over one eye, and his feet tucked across under the seat of his chair, which supported only on its hind legs, was tilted back against the side of the cabin. My description can give you but a poor idea of the ludicrousness of the thing. One of those laughing girls would have done it better! I overheard more than one of their droll comments.

"What if his chair should upset, when he 'catches fish!'" exclaimed a pretty little girl, looking roguishly from under her shadowing round straw hat.

"There is more danger that that wasp will fly down his throat," replied another of the gay bevy. "What a yawning cavern it is! That wasp is hovering over the 'crack of doom!'"

"He reminds me rather of Daniel in the lion's den," put in a third.

"Let's move our seats before he wakes up," cried one of the girls, as the nondescript made a slight demonstration upon a fly that had invaded his repose. "He is protected by the barricade he has surrounded himself with—like a upas-tree in the centre of its own vile atmosphere—butwe, unwary travellers, are not equally safe!"

A day or two afterwards, these very young men were just opposite me at table, in a hotel in one of our large Western cities.

They were well dressed (with the exception ofcolored shirts) and well-looking enough, but, after what I had previously seen of them, I was not surprised to observe their habits of eating. One wouldthrow up both arms, and clasp his hands over his head, while waiting for a re-supply of food; the other stop, now and then, tolay offhis bushy moustache, so as to make more room for the shovelling process he kept up with his knife, for the more rapid disappearance of a large goblet of water at one swallowing, or for the introduction of a mammoth ear of corn, which he took both hands to hold, while he gobbled up row after row, with inconceivable rapidity. Then one would manipulate an enormous drum-stick, while he lolled comfortable back in his chair, grievously belaboring his voluminous beard, the while, and leaving upon it an all-sufficient substitute for maccassar, and the other, simultaneously make a loud demonstration with his pocket-handkerchief, or upon his head. Now one would stretch out his legs under the table, until he essentially invaded my reserved rights, and then the other insert his tongue first in one cheek, and then in the other, rolling it vigorously round, as a cannoneer would swab out a great gun with his sponge, before re-loading! Flushed, heated, steaming, the heaps of sweet-potato skins, bones, and bits of food profusely scattered over the soiled cloth, fully attested the might of their achievements!

Much of this, as I said, I was prepared for, but I was somewhat surprised by what followed.

I had sent for a quail, I think, or some other small game, and was preparing to discuss its merits, when one of these young men, reaching over, stuck his fork into the bird, and transferred it to his own plate!

I saw at a glance that no offense was intended to me—that the seeming rudeness was simply the result of vulgarity and ignorance; so I very quietly directed the servant to bring me another bird.

Scarcely was the second dish placed before me, when the other youth of this delectable pair exactly repeated the action of his companion, and I again found myself minus my game.

"Mon Dieu!" cried my young foreign friend, "if you can endure that, you are a hero, sir!"

An hour or two subsequent to this agreeable incident, I was again seated in the cars, and hearing a noise behind me, soon satisfied myself that my neighbors at dinner that day were to be my neighbors still, and that they were at present busily employed in disputing with the conductor respecting a seat next their own, which they wished to monopolize for the accommodation of their legs, and which, in consequence of the crowded state of the cars, the man insisted upon filling with other passengers. Presently there came in a pale, weary-looking woman, with a wailing infant in her arms and another young child clinging to her garments. She found a seat where she could, and sinking into it, disposed of a large basket she had also carried, and commenced trying to pacify the baby.

Here was a fit subject for the rude jests and jibes of the young fellows I have described. And full use did they make of their vulgar license of tongue. The poor mother grew more and more distressed as those unfeeling comments reached her ears fromtime to time, and at each outbreak from the infant strove more nervously to pacify it.

I observed that a good-humored looking, large, handsome man, who sat a little before this woman, frequently glanced round at the child, and sought to divert its attention by various little playful motions. At length, when the cars stopped for a few minutes, out he sallied, in all haste, and presently returned with his hands full of fruits and cakes. Offering a liberal share of these to the woman and her little girl, after distributing some to his party, he reserved a bright red apple, and said cheerily to the mother: "Let me take your little boy, ma'am, I think I can quiet him."

The little urchin set up a loud scream, as he found himself in the strong grasp of the stranger; but, a few moments' perseverance effected his benevolent purpose. Tossing the boy up, directing his attention to the apple, and then carrying him through the empty car a turn or two, sufficed to chase away the clouds and showers from what proved to be a bright, pretty face, and very soon the amiable gentleman returned to his seat, saying very quietly to the woman, as he passed her, "We will keep your little child awhile, and take good care of him." The baby was healthy-looking, and its clothes, though plain, were entirely clean—so the poor thing was by no means a disagreeable plaything for the young lady beside whom the gentleman was seated. For some little time they amused themselves in this humane manner, and then the young man gently snugged theweary creature down upon his broad chest, and there it lay asleep, like a flower on a rock, nestled under a shawl, and firmly supported by the enfolding arm that seemed unconscious of its light burden.

Meantime the pale, tired mother regaled herself with the refreshments so bountifully provided for her, watching the movements of the little group before her with evident satisfaction; and at length settled herself for a nap in the corner of her seat, with the other child asleep in her lap.

The noisy comments of the "fast" young men in the rear of the car became less audible and offensive, I noticed, after the stranger came to the rescue, and when I passed their seat, afterwards, I could not be surprised at their comparative silence, upon beholding the enormous quantity of pea-nut shells and fruit skins with which the floor was strewn, and noticing the industry with which they were squirting tobacco juice over the whole.

By-and-by the cars made another pause. The mother of the little boy roused herself and looked hastily round for her treasures. Upon this the young lady who occupied the seat with her new friend came to her and seemed reassuring her. As soon as the thronging crowd had passed out, I heard her saying, as I caught a peep at the sweetest face, bent smilingly towards the woman—"I made a nice little bed for him, as soon as the next seat was empty, and he is still fast asleep. Does he like milk? Mr. Grant will get some when he wakes—it is so unpleasant for a lady to get out of the cars." (Here thewoman seemed to make some explanation, and a shadow of sympathy passed over the smiling face I was admiring, as one sees a passing cloud move above a sunny landscape.) "Well, we will be glad to be of use to you, as far as we go on," pursued the fair girl; "I will find out all about it, and tell you before we leave the cars. Now, just rest all you can—let me put this shawl up a little higher—there! It is such a relief to get off one's bonnet! I'll put it up for you. The little girl had better come with me.—Oh, no, she will not, I am sure! What's your name, dear? Mary! that's theprettiest name in the world! everybody loves Mary! I have such a pretty book to show you"—and having tucked up the object of her gentle care in quite a cosy manner, while she was saying this, the good girl gave a pretty, encouraging little nod to the woman, and went back, taking the other juvenile with her, to her own place. When her companion joined her, she looked up in his face with a beaming, triumphant sort of a smile, and, receiving a response in the same expressive language, all seemed quite understood between them.

"What an angel!" exclaimed the young European, in his favorite tongue, as he re-entered the car, and caught part of this little by-scene. "Do you know what she said to that poor woman?"

I gave him all the explanation in my power. His fine eyes kindled. "She is as good as she is beautiful! Have you remarked the magnificent head of the gentleman with her? What a superbprofile he has—so classic! And his broad chest—there's a model for a bust! I happened to be in the studio of your celebrated countryman, Powers, at Florence, with my father, who was sitting to him, when the great Thorwaldsen came to visit him. Boy, as I was, at that time, I remember his words, as he stood before the bust of your Webster: 'I cannot make such busts!' But was it not, sir, because he had no suchmodelsas your country affords?" These were courteous words; but I do them poor justice in the record; I cannot express the voice and manner from which they received their charm.

Well, at the risk of tiring you, I hasten to conclude my little sketch. I amused myself by quietly watching the thing through, and noticed, towards evening, that the amiable strangers went together to the woman they had befriended, after the gentleman had been into the hotel, before which we were standing, seemingly to make some inquiry for her. Both talked for a few minutes, apparently very kindly, to her and to the children, and seemed to encourage her by some assurance as they parted. As they were turning away, the grateful mother rose, and, snatching the hand first of one, and then of the other, burst out, with a "God bless you both!" so fervent as to be audible where I sat.

"Don't speak of such a trifle!" returned the youth, in a clear, distinct voice, raising his noble form to its full height, and flashing forth the light of his falcon eye; "for my part, I am very glad to be able to do a little good as I go along in the world!"

In a few moments the handsome stranger was seen carefully placing his fair travelling companion in an elegant carriage, where a lady was awaiting them, and upon which several trunks were already strapped. While cordial greetings were still in progress between the trio, a well-dressed servant gave the reins to a superb pair of dark bays, and in another instant they were flying along in the direction of a stately-looking mansion of which I caught sight in the distance.

"Who the d—— is that fellow?" shouted one of the pair in the rear. "I say, porter," stretching his body far out of the car window, and beckoning to a man on the steps of the neighboring building, "What's the name of those folks in that carriage? dev'lish pretty girl, I swear!"

"Sir-r-r?" answered Paddy, coming to the side of the car, and pulling his dirty cap on one side of his head with one hand, while he operated upon his carroty hair with the fingers of the other; "what's yer honor's plaizure?"

"I say, what's the name of that gentleman who has just gone off in that carriage there?"

"Oh! sure that's young Gineral Grant; him that owns the fine house beyant—I hear tell he's the new Congressman, sir!"

"Bien!" whispered my foreign friend, laughing heartily, "thisisa great country! you do things upon so large a scale here, that one must not wonder whenextremes meet!"

"What, coz, still sitting with your things on, waiting? Haven't you been impatient?"

"Oh, no, not at all, I've been reading."

"Well, but, do you know it's twelve o'clock? We were to start at half-past ten. What did you think of me for delaying so long?"

"I was afraid some accident had happened; but I could see nothing from the window, and I did not like to go out on the portico alone."

"Then you did not think me careless, and were not vexed?"

"Not I, indeed! I was sure you would come if you could, and was only anxious about you, as you were to try that new horse. I did not take off my bonnet, because I kept expecting you every moment."

"And I kept expecting to come every moment—that devilish animal! I tried to send you word, but I could not get sight of a servant—confound the fellows! they are always out of the way when one wants them."

"But, Charley, dear, what about the horse? Has he really troubled you? I am sorry you bought him."

"Oh, I've conquered him! it wouldn't have taken me so long before I had that devilish fever! But, come, cozzy dear, will you go now, or is your patience all gone?"

"I would like the drive—but, Charley, had we not better put it off until to-morrow morning? Youmust be tired out, and, perhaps, the horse will continue to trouble you."

"No, no—come, come along, if you are willing to go."

Now, Charley and his cousin were together at a little rural watering-place, in search of change of air and scene. Charley had been recently ill, and, as he chanced to be separated from his family at the time, was particularly fortunate in having had the gentle ministrations of Belle, as he usually called her, at command, during his convalescence.

Belle was an orphan, without brothers, and she clung to Charley with the tenacity of a loving heart, deprived of its natural resources. Temporarily relieved from her duties as a teacher, her cousin invited her to accompany him in this little tour, in pity for the languor that was betrayed by her drooping eyes, and lagging step; and his kindly nurse, flattering herself that her "occupation" was not yet quite "gone," was only too happy to escape from her city prison, under such safe and agreeable protection. Yielding and quiet, as she ordinarily was, Belle had very strict notions of propriety on some points. So, when she and her cousin were making their final arrangements, before commencing their journey, she laid upon the table before him, a bank-note of considerable amount, with the request that he would appropriate it to the payment of her travelling expenses.

"Time enough for that, by-and-by, coz."

"No, if you please, Charley. It is enough thatyou will be burdened by the care of me, without having your purse taxed, too. Just be so good as to keep a little account of what you pay for me—remembering porterage, carriage-hire, and such matters—ladies always have the most luggage." And a little hand playfully smoothed the doubled paper upon the cuff of Charley's coat-sleeve, and left it lying there.

Her cousin very well knew that this bank-note comprised a large portion of Belle's quarterly salary, though she made no allusion to the matter; and, though his own resources were moderate, men so much more easily acquire money than women—well, never mind! people differ in their ideas ofluxury.

Charley had some new experiences in this little tour of his and Belle's. He had an idea, previously, that "women are always a bother, in travelling," and he found himself sorely puzzled to make out, exactly, what trouble it was to have his cousin always ready to read to him, when they sat together on the deck of a steamer, or while he lay on the sofa at a hotel, to claim the comfortable seat at her side in a rail-car, to have her keep his cane and book, while he went out to chat with an acquaintance, watch when he grew drowsy, and softly gather his shawl about his neck, and make a pillow of her own for him, or to see the tear that sometimes gathered in her meek eyes, when sheacknowledged any little courtesy on his part. Then, when, after they were settled in their snug quarters, at the watering-place, Belle, half-timidly, sat a moment on his knee, and, lookingproudly round upon the order she had brought out of chaos, among his toilet articles, books, and clothes, said—"Oh, what a happy week I have to thank you for, dear cousin Charley! You have done so many, many kind things for me, all the way! I have had to travel alone almost always since pa's—since"—he was really quite at a loss to know what "kind things" she referred to, and said so.

"Why, Charley!" returned she, making a vigorous effort to get over the choking feeling that had suddenly assailed her, upon alluding to her deceased father, "don't you know—no, you don't know, what a happiness it is to a poor, lonely thing, like me, to have some one to take care of her luggage, and pay her fare, and all those things? I know, in this country, women can travel alone, safely—quite so; but it isn't pleasant, for all that, to go into crowds of rough men, without any one. The other evening, at New Haven, for instance, it was quite dark, when we landed, and those hackmen made such a noise, and crowded so—but I felt just as safe, and comfortable, while sitting waiting for you in the carriage, all the while you were gone back about our trunks! Oh, you can't realize it, Charley, dear!" and the fair speaker shook her head, with a mournful earnestness, that expressed almost as much sober truthfulness, as appealing femininity.

But about this morning drive.

With the trusting confidence for which her sex have such an infinite capacity, Belle yielded at once to the implied wish of her temporary protector, andthey were soon rolling along, in a light, open carriage, through deeply-shadowing woods and across little brooklets which were merrily disporting themselves under the trees.

The poor wild-wood bird, so long caged, yet ever longing to be free, carolled and mused by turns, or permitted her joyous nature to gush out in exclamations of delight.

"What delicious air!" she exclaimed. "Really it exhilarates one, like a cordial. Oh, Charley, dear, look at those flowers! May I get out for them? Do let me! I won't be gone a minute. Just you sit still, and hold your war-steed. Don't be so ceremonious as to alight; I need no assistance." And with a bound the happy creature was on her feet, and in an instant dancing along, to the music of her own glad voice, over the soft grass.

Too considerate to encroach upon his patience unduly, Belle soon reseated herself beside Charley, with a lap full of floral treasures.

"Here are enough for bouquets for both our rooms," said she; "how fresh and fragrant they are!

'They have tales of the joyous woods to tell,Of the free blue streams and the glowing sky.'

Bless God for flowers—and friends!"

As the artless girl fervently uttered the last words, she turned a pair of sweet blue eyes, into which tears of gratitude and pleasure had suddenly started, upon the face of her companion. What a painful revulsion of feeling was produced by that glance!She scarcely recognized the face of her cousin, so completely had gloom and discontent usurped the place of his usual hilarious expression. Whatcouldbe the matter? Had she offended him!

Repressing, with quick tact, all manifestations of surprise, though her frame thrilled, as if from a heavy blow, Belle was silent for a while, and then said in a subdued tone that contrasted strangely with her former bird-like glee—"Your horse goes nicely now, Charley, doesn't he? You seem to have effectually conquered him; but I am sure you must be tired, now, dear cousin, you have been out so long. Had we not better return?"

"Why, you have had no ride at all yet, Isabella," returned the young man, in a voice that was as startling to his sensitive auditor as his altered countenance had been.

"Oh, yes, I have," she quickly answered, endeavoring to speak as cheerfully as possible, "I have enjoyed myself so much that I ought to be quite contented to go back, and I really think we'd better do so."

Charley's only response was turning his horse's head homeward. For a while they drove on in silence, Belle's employment of arranging her flowers now wholly mechanical, so engrossing was the tumult in her heart.

Just as they came in sight of their hotel, the unruly animal that had already occasioned his new owner so much trouble, stopped, and stoodlike a wooden effigy in the middle of the road.

In vain did word and whip appeal to his locomotive powers. At length the pent-up wrath that had apparently been gathering fury for the last hour burst forth.

"Devilish brute! I never was so shamefully imposed upon! I wish to G—— I never had set foot in this infernal hole! There's no company here fit for a decent fellow to associate with. I shall die of stupidity in a week—particularly if I have to drive such a confounded concern as this!" Here followed a volley of mingled blows and curses.

The terrified witness of this scene sat tremblingly silent, for a time, clinging to the side of the carriage, as if to keep herself quiet. Presently she said:

"Perhaps I'd better jump out and run to the house, and send some one out to assist you."

"You may get out, if you choose," answered her cousin, gruffly, "but I want no assistance about the horse. I'll break every bone in his body, but I'll conquer his devilish temper!"

After another pause, Belle said, "Well, Charley, if you please, I will walk on. I am sorry you are so annoyed," she added, timidly, carefully averting her pale face from him; "but perhaps this is only a phase, and he may never do so again."

Her companion broke into a loud, mocking laugh. "What in thunder do you know about horses, Isabella?"

"Nothing, Charley—nothing in the world," returned his cousin, quickly, in the gentlest voice, "I only"——

"Ye-es!" drawled the angry youth, "I know—some women think their 'ready wit' will enable them to talk upon any subject! Get up, now, you rascal, will you?"

Belle knew her weakness too well to trust herself to speak, so, drawing her veil closely about her face, and gathering up her shawl and her flowers, she stepped from the low carriage with assumed composure, and bowing slightly, walked towards the house.

Meeting a servant, at the foot of the stairs, she said, very quietly, "Mr. Cunningham will be here in a few minutes with his horse; I hope some one will be ready to take him," and passed on. This was all shedaredto do, in aid of the exasperated youth.

Once in her own room, it seemed but the work of a moment for the agitated girl to throw off her shawl and bonnet, and transport some light refreshments she had previously prepared, across the passage to her cousin's room, to draw up his lounging chair to the table, and with a few skillful touches to give that air of comfort to the simply-furnished apartment which it had been her daily pleasure to impart to it.

This self-imposed task achieved, she flew, like a guilty intruder, to her own little asylum, and locking the door, flung herself upon the bed, burying her face in the pillows.

But though her quick, convulsive sobs were stifled, they shook her slight, sensitive form till it quivered in every nerve, like a delicate exotic suddenly exposed to the blasts of a northern winter.

By-and-by a sound roused her from this agony of tears.

"There is the first dinner-gong," said she, to herself, starting up, "what shall I do? Perhaps Charley won't like it if I don't go to dinner. My head aches dreadfully. I don't mind that so much, but (looking in the glass) my face is so flushed. I wouldn't for the world vex Charley, I'm sure." With this she began some hasty toilet preparations; but her hands trembled so violently as to force her to desist.

Wrapping her shivering form in her shawl, she sat down on a low chair, and again gave way to emotions which gradually shaped themselves thus:

"I am so sorry I came with Charley. He was never anything but kind till we came here. And then I should have, at least, had nothing but pleasant things to remember. But now—I am afraid Charley is ashamed of me; he looked at my dress so scrutinizingly this morning, when he came to my door. I know I'm not the least fashionable; but Mrs. Tillou is, and she complimented me on thisnégligé—it is soiled now, and my pretty slippers, too, walking back through the mud! 'Isabella!' How cold and strange it sounded! I am so used to 'cozzy dear,' and have learned to love it so. My poor heart!" pressing both hands upon her side as if to still a severe pang. Then she rose, and creeping slowly along the floor, swallowed some water, and seating herself at the table, drew writing materials towards her. Steadying her hand with great effort, and everymoment pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, she achieved the following note:

"Having a little headache to-day, dear Charley, I prefer not to dine, if you will excuse me. I will be quite ready to meet you in the parlor before tea."Ever yours,"Belle."Tuesday Morning."

"Having a little headache to-day, dear Charley, I prefer not to dine, if you will excuse me. I will be quite ready to meet you in the parlor before tea.

"Ever yours,"Belle.

"Tuesday Morning."

Designing to accompany this with some of the flowers she now remembered, for the first time since her return from her ill-starred morning excursion, Belle hastily re-arranged the prettiest of them in a little bouquet. As she removed an already withered wild-rose from among its companions, a solitary tear fell upon its shrivelled petals. "Perhaps," she murmured mournfully, with a heavy sigh, "I should have made another idol,—perhaps I should soon have learned tolove Charley too well, if this chastening had not come upon me—could he have thought so?" As she breathed this query, the small head was suddenly thrown back, like that of a startled gazelle, and a blush so vivid and burning as to pale the previous flush of agitation, flashed over cheek and brow.

Quickly ringing the bell, and carefully concealing herself from observation, behind the door, when she half-opened it, the servant who answered her summons was requested to hand the note and flowers to Mr. Cunningham, if he was in his room, and if not,to place them where he would "be sure to see them when he came up."

"When will I ever learn," said Belle, in a tone of bitter self-reproach, as she re-locked the door, "not to cling and trust,—not

——"to make idols, and to find them clay!"

"I have not seen you looking so well since you came here, Miss Cunningham," said a gentleman to Belle, joining her as she was entering the public parlor that evening. "Do allow me to felicitate you! What a brilliant color!—You were driving this morning, were you not? No doubt you are indebted to your cousin for the bright roses in yourcheeks!"

And now, my dear young friends, let me only add, in concluding this lengthened letter, that, had I early acquired thehabit of writing, you would, doubtless, have less occasion to criticise these effusions—attempted, for your benefit, at too late a period of life to enable me to render them what I could wish. Use them asbeacons, since they cannot serve asmodels!

Adieu!HenryLunettes.

Footnotes:[14]Sketches of Reform and Reformers,—byH. B. Stanton.

[14]Sketches of Reform and Reformers,—byH. B. Stanton.

MENTAL AND MORAL EDUCATION.

My dear Nephews:

Havingtouched, in our preceding letters, upon matters relating to Physical Training, Manner, and the lighter accomplishments that embellish existence, we come now to theinner life—to the Education of the Mind and Heart, or Soul of Man.

Metaphysicians would, I make no doubt, find ample occasion to cavil at the few observations I shall venture to offer you on these important subjects, and, painfully conscious of my total want of skill to treat them in detail, I will only attempt a fewdesultory suggestions, intended rather to impress you with the importance I attach toself-culture, than to furnish you with full directions regarding it.

The genius of our National Institutions pre-supposes the truth that education is within the power of all, and that all are capable of availing themselves of its benefits. Education, in the highest, truest sense, does not involve the necessity of an elaborate system of scientific training, with an expenditure of time andmoney entirely beyond the command of any but the favored few who make the exception, rather than the rule, in relation to the race in general.

Happily for the Progress of Humanity, the "will to do, the soul to dare," are never wholly subject to the control of outer circumstance, and here, in our free land, they are comparatively untrammeled.

"There are two powers of the human soul," says one of our countrymen, distinguished for a knowledge of Intellectual Science, "which make self-culture possible, theself-searching, and theself-formingpower. We have, first, the faculty of turning the mind on itself; of recalling its past, and watching its present operations; of learning its various capacities and susceptibilities; what it can do and bear; what it can enjoy and suffer; and of thus learning, in general, what our nature is, and what it is made for. It is worthy of observation, that we are able to discern not only what we already are, but what we may become, to see in ourselves germs and promises of a growth to which no bounds can be set; to dart beyond what we have actually gained, to the idea of perfection at the end of our being."

Assuming that to be the most enlightened system of education which tends most effectively to develop all the faculties of our nature, it is impossible, practically, to separate moral and religious fromintellectual discipline. If we possess theresponsibilityas well as the capacity of self-training—that must be a most imperfect system, one most unjust to ourbetter selves, which cultivates the intellectual powers at the expense of those natural endowments, without which, man were fitter companion for fiends than for higher intelligences!

Pursued beyond a certain point, education, established upon this basis, may not facilitate the acquisition of wealth; and if this were the highest pursuit to which it can be made subservient, effort, beyond that point, were useless. But if we regard the acquirement of money chiefly important as affording the essential means of gratifying the tastes, providing for the necessities, and facilitating the exercise of the moral instincts of our being, we return, at once, to our former position.

"He, therefore, who does what he can to unfold all his powers and capacities, especially his nobler ones, so as to become a well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, happy being, practises self-culture."

Those of you who have enjoyed the advantages of a regular course of intellectual training, will need no suggestion of mine to aid you in mental discipline; but possibly a few hints on this point may not be wholly useless to others.

The general dissemination of literature, in forms so cheap as to be within the reach of all, rendersreadinga natural resource for purposes of amusement as well as instruction. But they who are still so young as to make the acquisition of knowledge the proper business of life, should never indulge themselves in reading formere amusement. Never, therefore, permit yourselves to pass over words or allusions, with the meaning of which you are unacquainted, in works you are perusing. Go at once to the fountain-head—to a dictionary for unintelligible words, to an encyclopedia for general information, to a classical authority for mythological and other similar facts, etc., etc. You will not readas fast, by adopting this plan, but you will soon realize that you are, nevertheless, advancing much more rapidly, in the truest sense. When you have not works of reference at command, adopt the practice of making brief memoranda, as you go along, of such points as require elucidation, and avail yourself of the earliest opportunity of seeking a solution of your doubts. And do not, I beg of you, think this too laborious. The best minds have been trained by such a course. Depend upon it,geniusis no equivalent for the advantage ultimately derived from patient perseverance in such a course. I remember well, that to the latest year of his life, my old friend, De Witt Clinton, one of the noblest specimens of the race it has been my fortune to know, would spring up, like a boy, despite his stiff knee, when any point of doubt arose, in conversation, upon literary or scientific subjects, and hasten to select a book containing the desired information, from a little cabinet adjoining his usual reception-room. His was a genuinelove of learningfor its own sake; and the toil and turmoil of political life never extinguished his early passion, nor deprived him of a taste for its indulgence.

Moralists have always questioned the wisdom of indulging a taste for fictitious literature, even when time has strengthened habit and principle into fixedness. The license of the age in which we live, renders futile the elaborate discussion of this question of ethics. But, while permitting yourselves the occasional perusal of works of poetry and fiction, do not so far indulge this taste as to stimulate a disrelish for more instructive reading. And, above all, do not permit yourselves to acquire an inclination for the unwholesome stimulus of licentiousness, in this respect. Every man of the world should know something of the belle-lettre literature of his own language, at least, and, as a rule, the more the better; but,

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise;"

and the vile translations from profligate foreign literature, which have, of late years, united with equally immoral productions in our own, to foster a corrupt popular taste, cannot be too carefully avoided by all who would escape moral contagion.

You will find the practice of noting fine passages, felicitous modes of expression, novel thoughts, etc., as they occur even in lighter literary productions, not unworthy of your attention. It will serve, collaterally, to assist in the formation of a pure style of conversation and composition, a consideration of no small importance for those whose future career will demand facility in this regard. Carlyle has somewhere remarked that, "our public men are all goneto tongue!" This peculiarity of the times, may, to some extent, have grown out of its new and peculiar social and political necessities. But, whether that be so, or not, since such is the actual state of things, let all new competitors for public distinction seek every means of securing ready success.

While I would not, without reservation, condemn the perusal of fictitious literature, I think you will need no elaborate argument to convince you of the superior importance of a thorough familiarity withHistoryand generalScience.

Let me, also, commend to your attention, well-chosenBiography, as affording peculiarly impressive incentives to individual effort, and, often, a considerable amount of collateral and incidental information. The Life of Johnson, by Boswell, for instance, which, as far as I know, still retains its long-accorded place at the very head of this class of composition (some critic has recorded his wonder that the best biography in our language should have been written by afool!) contains a world of information, respecting the many celebrated contemporaries of that great man, the peculiarities of social life in England, at his day, and the general characteristics of elegant literature. So, of Lockhart's Life of Scott, and other records of literary life. The lives of such men as Shelley, and Coleridge, afford an impressive warning to the young—teaching, better than a professed homily, how little talents, unguided by steadfastness of purpose and principle, avail for usefulness and happiness. The examples of Lord Nelson,Howard,Mungo Park, Robert Hall, Franklin, and Washington, may well be studied, in detail, for the lessons they impress upon all. And so, of many of the brave and the good of our race—I but name such as passingly occur to me.

Do not permit newspaper and magazine reading to engross too much of your time, lest you gradually fall into a sort ofmental dissipation, which will unfit you for more methodical literary pursuits.

A cultivated taste in Literature and Art, as, indeed, in relation to all the embellishments and enjoyments of life, is, properly, one of the indications, if not the legitimate result, of thorough mental education. But, while you seek, by every means within your control, to enlarge the sphere of your perceptions, and to elevate your standard of intellectual pleasures, carefully avoid all semblance of conscious superiority, alldilettantipretension, all needless technicalities of artistic language. Remember thatmodestyis always the accompaniment of true merit, and that the smattering of knowledge, which the condition of Art in our infant Republic alone enables its most devoted disciples to acquire, ill justifies display and pretension, in this respect. So, with regard to matters of literary criticism—enjoy your own opinions, and seek to base them upon the true principles of art; but do not inflict crudities and platitudes upon others, under the impression that, because of recent acquisition to a tyro in years, and in learning, they are likely to strike mature minds with the charm of novelty! Thus, too, with scientific lore. If SirIsaac Newton only gathered "pebbles on the shore" of the limitless ocean of knowledge, we may well believe that

——"Wisdom is a pearl, with most successSought in still water."

Let me add, while we are, incidentally, upon this matter of personal pretension, that to observing persons such a manner often indicates internal distrust of one's just claims to one's social position, while, on the contrary, quiet self-possession, ease and simplicity, are equally expressive of self-respect and of an entire certainty of the tacit admission of one's rights by others. Nothing is more underbred than the habit of taking offense, or fancying one's self slighted, on all occasions. It betokens either intense egotism, or, as I have said,distrust of your rightful position—that you are embittered by struggling with the world—neither of which suppositions should be betrayed by the bearing of a man of the world. Maintain outward serenity, let the torrent rage as it may within, andnever allow the world to know its power to wound you through your undue sensitiveness!

Well has the poet asserted that

"Truth's a discovery made bytravelled minds."

No one who can secure the advantage of seeing life and manners in every varying phase, should fail to add this to the other branches of a polite education. Do not imbibe the impression, however, that merely going abroad istravelling, in the just sense of the term.

Back to Index Next