Citation
Zigzag journeys on the Mississippi

Material Information

Title:
Zigzag journeys on the Mississippi from Chicago to the islands of discovery
Series Title:
Zigzag series
Cover title:
Zig Zag journeys on the Mississippi
Creator:
Butterworth, Hezekiah, 1839-1905
Estes & Lauriat ( Publisher )
John Wilson and Son ( Printer )
University Press (Cambridge, Mass.) ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Estes and Lauriat
Manufacturer:
John Wilson and Son ; University Press
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
319 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 22 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Storytelling -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Spanish language -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- Mississippi River ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- West Indies ( lcsh )
Travelogue storybooks -- 1892 ( local )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1892 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1892
Genre:
Travelogue storybooks ( local )
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Endpapers containing illustrations relating to the contents printed in green.
General Note:
Includes publisher's advertisements preceding text.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Hezekiah Butterworth.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
022351516 ( ALEPH )
ALG3505 ( NOTIS )
00839654 ( OCLC )
01021701 ( LCCN )

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ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI





THE ZIGZAG SERIES.

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.



ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [IN EUROPE.

ZIGZAG FJOURNEYS IN CLASSIC LANDS. ‘

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [N THE ORIENT. .

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE OCCIDENT.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [N NORTHERN LANDS.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYS IN ACADIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS IN THE LEVANT.

ZIGZAG JOURNEVS IN THE SUNNY SOUTH.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS LN INDIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE ANTIPODES.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE BRITISH
ISLES.

ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE GREAT NORTH-
WEST. |

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN AUSTRALIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPP/.

—_—_e————_.

ESTES AND LAURIAT, Publishers,

BOSTON, MASS.















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE CAPITOL, WASHINGTON.



/ZIGZAG JOURNEYS

THE MISSISSIPPI

FROM CHICAGO TO THE ISLANDS OF THE
‘DISCOVERY

BY



HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH

FULLY ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON
ESTES AND LAURIAT
PUBLISHERS





Copyright, 1892,
By Estes anp LAURIAT.

Aniversity ress:
JOHN WILSON aND Son, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.





PREFACE.

T has been the purpose of the Ziczac books to



enable young ‘people to talk of the politics of dif-
ferent nations intelligently; it is the aim of this
volume to prepare its readers to discuss the mean-
ing of the Great World’s Fair of 1893, and the



historical progress that the enterprise: represents and_ illustrates.
Hence it is a book of stories associated for the most part with the
Columbian Discovery, with Chicago, and the Mississippi Valley.

A few years ago the author of this series of books formed a
Spanish Class for some young people in his home in Boston. The
class was suggested to him by the difficulties that he had met on an
excursion to Havana. After a winter of agreeable lessons with the
class, he made a visit to the City of Mexico by the way of the
Mississippi Valley and. Laredo, and found the easy Spanish that
he had learned of great service to him. This story-book is in-
tended to suggest the importance of the study of Spanish literature,
in view of our new commercial relations with the Republics of

Mexico and of South America, as well as to prepare the way for



8 PREFACE.

an intelligent visit by young people to the Columbian Exposition.
Like the other books of the series, a light narrative of fiction is
made a medium of telling the stories and legends of interesting
countries.

The author is indebted to “ Harper’s Bazar,” the “ Ladies’ Home
Journal,” and the “ Youth’s Companion” for permission to republish
stories that he had written for those periodicals; and to Mrs. Mary
A. Denison, of Washington, for an article, published in the “ Youth’s
Companion,” on the “Columbus Doors of the Capitol.”

The publishers are indebted to Charles L. Webster and Co. for
the use of numerous cuts illustrating the Mississippi Valley.

28 WORCESTER STREET, Boston, Mass.







CHAPTER

L

IL.
IL.
IV.

VI.
VII.
VIII.
TX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.

CONTENTS.



Tue Spanish CLASS . . ee ee ee ee et
Tue SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A Journey . Soe we See a gs
Tue First AMERICA . . ee eet et ee
Tue Ever Farrarun IsLE . - 6 ee 6 et te ee
Aprrur 4 «© o.m%e Ge we Oo oe bea we ty ee

Artuur’s Home Museum aND ITs RELATION TO THE JOURNEY. .
Tre Spanish Cass. — LireraRY AND Humorous ENTERTAINMENTS .
Tur Cotumpran Doors OF THE CaPITOL. — “ Como SE LLAMA ESO?”
CuicaGo AND THE GREAT WorLD’s FAIR

Tue Lanp or LINCOLN . . 6 ee eee ee tt
Sr. Louis, THE Crty oF THE Mounps AND ParKS. . - : os
SroRY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI . . . - +

STORY-TELLING ON THE Mississtpp1 (Continued). .-+ + + + + +

CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEw ORLEANS ~ - 6 + 6 ee et es
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. . + + + + + +
Av tHE Toms or COLUMBUS . . - + + ee ee ee es

PAGE
13
26
32
38
59
74
83

106
135
164
179
186

203

| 231

263

395








ILLUSTRATIONS.



Pace
The Capitol, Washington . . FrontesPiece
Tailpiece . . . Stier G25
Among the ribaad Islands fa kota a ey
Chapultepec .. . . 29

Marquette and ee ee by the
Indians .. . a 33

La Salle in search ‘of the Mouth of ae
Mississippi... . te, & 34

La Salle taking Possession of the sine
for France ... ahcelis, wu 235
La Salle on the Mississippi be MEFS Hee, 380
Indian Temple visited by La Salle . . 36
Charles V. 2. 2 2 1 1 ee ee ee 89
Cardinal Ximenes . ....... «4!
Philip I], 2. 2. 2. 1. 1 ew ee ee 4
Queen Isabella . . . 2... . 44
Abdication of Charles V.. . . . . . 48
The Ghost of Greylock . . : . 69
A Florida Heron. . . 2. 2.) 3 +e) 9S
Curiosities of the Sea. 2. 2. 1. 1 ww) 79
The White House, Washington . . . 107
The White House, Rear Entrance . . ‘109
The Washington Monument. . . . . IIo
The Treasury Building . . . ee
The National Library. . . . . . 113
The Columbian Doors of the Capitol . II4
Columbus putin Irons. . . . 1. | OTIS
Mount Vernon from the Potomac. . . II7
Mount Vernon ....... . . «£20

. Along the Wharves, Georgetown .

Washington’s Tomb
Soldiers’ Cemetery at Arlington

Ford’s Theatre, where President Lincoln
was assassinated

House where the President died
Negro Quarters

Washington Navy Yard

First House in Chicago
Wabash Avenue, Chicago, 1870

The Administration Pee Columbian
Exposition

The Woman’s Building

The Horticultural Building . ;
Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building
Galleries of Fine Arts. .

Miners’ and Mining Building

The Government: Building

Machinery Hall ifr a
New State House, Springfield, Hlinois ;
The Lincoln Monument, Springfield, Ill.
Abraham Lincoln
The Message of Life

Learning the River .

Lafayette

A Light-keeper

‘A Tow

Tailpiece
A View in Minnesota .

PacEe
I2!I
122
123

124
125
126
129
136
137

141
145
145
149
149
153
157
161
165
168
170
175
180
181
182
184
185
187



12 ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
View onthe River... ....., 189
A Typical Oldtimer . . 2 . 1. . 190
A Mississippi Lumber-raft . . . . . 192
The “Baton Rouge”... ... 197
Tailpiece . - . 1... . 1 1. 202
Initial. 2 2. We iotun fi ee, {203
Shipping on the Mississippi se ew 204
View of the River near Vicksburg. . . 205
A Relicofthe War... .... , 207
In the Cottonfield . 2... 1 1. 213
A Picturesque View of the River... . 219
A Steamboat Explosion . . , 225
The Famous Run of the “ a E,
lee”... ee we.
Initial. © 2... 231
The Crescent City ac we oe boon 232
Canal Street, New Orleans . . 2 . . 233

Old-time Carnival Scene, New Orleans . 237
The Spanish Fort near New Orleans . 239

Mardi-Gras. . . . - 2 + 2 240
Mardi-Gras Feats of Chivalry - oe ee 241
Water-front, New Orleans . . . . . 24 5
Statue of Jackson, New Orleans . . . 247
The University, New Orleans . . 7 - 248

Marquette and Joliet pa the Great
Lakes . . . So 251

Marquette and Joliet at aries on. the
Mississippi . . . . 1. 1. . 252

A Vision of the South. . . . . . , 255



De Soto .
De Soto’ s Bea in 1 Florida

De Soto seeing the Alississipp for the
first Time.

Burial of De Soto

Tailpiece ;

A Bit of Florida .

Scenes in Florida os

The Old Gate, St. Augustine

The Argonaut

Lighthouse on the Florida ee
“Colombvs Lygvr novi orbis reptor”

A Glimpse of Florida

Florida, the Home of the Heron

Relics of Columbus .

Nassau Harbor

House of a Cuban Planter

Islands of the Bahamas

Capture of a Cuttle-fish

A Giant Alligator

Kingston Harbor, Jamaica

Cuban Beggar

Havana . tn oe

Statue of Columbus.

A Cuban Beauty . :

Tomb of Columbus at Havana .

The Old Cathedral, Havana.

General View of the Alhambra .

Pace
259
260

261
262
262
264.
265
267
268
269
272
275
279
283
284
287
291
295
299
303
306
307
309
311
314
315
317





ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.



CHAPTER I.
THE SPANISH CLASS.

~q7 HE Spanish Class had been conjugating the verb
(27, Meaning “to go.” One of the members had
pronounced the first person plural of the present
tense Varmouse, which had caused a smile.

“If you pronounce your Spanish in that way,”
said the teacher, Mr. Green, “ you will find yourself
beyond the help of an interpreter in Spanish countries.” -

“ Let me hear you conjugate the verb, and I will do better in my
next lesson,” said the pupil.
Mr. Green began : —



6S. « 4. ghost se. Vow:

Present. Preterite Definite.
Voy . . Igo (or am going). Ful. . . I went.
Vas . . Thou goest. , Fuiste . . Thou wentest.
Va. . . He (or she) goes. Fué . . . He (or she) went.
Vamos . We go. Fuimos. . We went.
Vais . . You go. Fuisteis. . You went.
Van . . They go. Fueron. . They went.

“That sounds like music,” said the pupil. “ I enjoy hearing you
conjugate a Spanish verb as much as listening toasong. The Spanish
language is like poetry. I have been told that my French would not



I4 . ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

be understood in France, nor my German in Germany. I wonder if ~
my Spanish would be comprehended in Spanish countries, or whether
the people whom I met would simply shake their heads and say, ‘ No
comprendo,’ or ‘ No entiendo,’ or ‘ Hableme en Espagnol ?’”

“They would hardly comprehend ‘ varmouse,’” said Mr. Green.
“ But the pronunciation of. the Spanish language so closely resembles
the Latin, that even a Spanish Class like this would be well under-
stood in Mexico, Cuba, and South America. If you were to say e/
pan at the table, the servant would bring you bread; or carne,’ he
would bring you meat, or carnero® mutton, or huevos * eggs, or gueso®
cheese, or agwa® water. Add to such words deme (give), as Deme
# (Give tea), or Deme café (Give coffee), or Deme leche® (Give milk), and
you would easily find your wants supplied, though after a rude and
childish manner.” ;

“ That is very encoutaging,” said the pupil. “It would be much -
to be fairly understood.”

““ Yes.” answered Mr. Green, “so far; but —”

* Buty”

“Yes, like the man who was willing that his son should see the
world, but was reluctant to have the world see his son, the Spanish-
speaking people would be likely to understand your Spanish with its ~
hard English accent and flavor; but it is probable that you would
make a mortifying exhibition of ignorance when you tried to compre-
hend ¢hem. You would talk a Latin-Spanish which would be intelli-

- gible, like a parrot; but when your Spanish friends came to reply in
melodious phrases, full of elegant expressions of courtesy, in which
several words blended as in one, I fear that you would have —”

“To varmouse,’ added the pupil, quickly.

“ Or would wish to do so.”

“ Are Spanish manners better than ours?” asked the pupil.

1 pahn. 2 car’nay. 8 car-nay’roh. . * hoo-ay’vos.
5 kay’soh. 6 ah’gwah. 7 day’may. 8 lay’tchay.





THE SPANISH CLASS. 15

“Spanish hearts, in my opinion, are not better than ours. . But
we poor, money-making Americans have but a poor education in the
outward forms of politeness. A Mexican eox with his polite address
would be likely to put to shame an American millionaire.”

“ How?”

“Let me illustrate. I was in the City bf Mexico a few months
ago, and was introduced to the wife of an officer in the government
‘service. J was interested in a beautiful Mexican singing-bird,. called
the Clarina, or Clarine. I had seen some of these birds at the
flower-market on the plaza, near the Cathedral, and had heard a few
of their clear, bell-like notes. Now, I am, as you know, a member of
the Ornithological Society, and I had with me my card of member-
ship. I showed my card to a Mexican friend, and he told me that a
lady of rank had some beautiful birds in her pazzo, and among them
the fluting clarinas. He said that he would secure me an introduc-
tion to her through her husband, and he did so. When the gate of
her casa flew open to me, and revealed a Jato of birds and flowers,
and sa/as of statues and pictures, what do you think the lady said
to me?”

“ Howdy?”

eINOe + :

“ Buenas tardes, Sefior?”

“No.”

“ Are you a book-agent ?” ve

“No. She said, ‘I give you my house, Sefior.’”

“ She did?”

“Yes; and what would you have said in return?”

“T would have said, ‘ Thank you (graczas), I will take it. I have
been looking for just such a house as this all my life. When will
the deeds be ready?’” |

-“ That would have been a characteristic American answer.”

“ But what did you say?”



‘16 ZIGZAG Y¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI,

“I put my hand on my heart so, and bowed’ so, and said, ‘ You do
me great honor, Sefiora;’ and then I bowed again, and she bowed, and
began pouring out compliments upon me as sweet as a clarina’s song.”

“ And you didn’t get a deed of the house, after all?”

“No. Every Mexican lady says to a well-introduced stranger,
‘My house is yours, Sefior (or Sefiora).’ ”

« And it does n’t mean anything, after all?”

“No. I-would have been pleased had she said, ‘I will give you
one of my sweet-singing clarinas.’”

“Did she?”

“Oh, no. I tried to hint to her that such a present would be
acceptable.”

“ What did she say?”

“She said that a very dear friend of hers had clarinas to sed, and a
that she would be pleased to make known to her my wishes. I asked — ;
her the price, and she said, ‘ Ten pesos — to an American.

“So she was just like an American, after all, with all of her fine
words ?”

“No,—she really was more hospitable than most Americans.
After showing me her birds, she said, ‘ My sada is yours. I stepped
into the sada,and was given the place of honor on a. sofa. I ex-
pressed my love of Spanish music, and she seated herself at the piano
and sang ‘La Paloma, and afterward played a Jdolero, and sang the
Mexican National Hymn. But let us return to the verb, Voy .. .
I go.” an

“Seftor Green,” said the pupil, “I would like to become a better
pupil in Spanish, and to go to Mexico. When nearly one half of the |
people of the American continent speak Spanish, why is not that lan-
guage taught in our schools? Why do we not study Spanish instead
of the continental languages of Europe?”

_ “ Education has its fashions, as well as society. In view of the
reciprocity treaties with Mexico and South America; of the great





1”





THE SPANISH CLASS. 17

railroad that is to connect all of the North and South American Re-
publics, of the subsidized steamers to South American ports, and of
the Nicaraguan Canal, the Spanish language must of necessity be-
come a part of our system of education. It will soon be the language

of trade, as well as of art, music, and poetry. So you see what an in-
- centive you have to study it well, and not varmouse too speedily.”

The members of the Spanish Class consisted of Mr. Green, the
teacher, Miss Green, Misses Brown and Gray, and Mr. Diaz, who be-
longed to an American-Spanish family. They were young people,
and intimate friends; and the class met twice a week in the parlors of
Mr. and Mrs. Green, the parents of Miss Green, who often passed an
hour with them after a recitation.

It was the usage of the class to have literary exercises in Spanish -
history, art, or music after each recitation. To these exercises they
sometimes invited their friends. Mr. Green often gave recitations
from the “ Cid” or “Don Quixote.” Misses Brown and Gray played
the mandolin, and Mr. Diaz the guitar. Readings from Prescott’s |
“Conquest of Peru,” “ Conquest of Mexico,” and “Ferdinand and
Isabella,” from Irving’s “ Conquest of Granada” and “ Columbus,”
from Barlow’s “Columbiad,” and Lockhart’s « Spanish Ballads,” and
Mrs. Hemans’s historical poems of Spain, formed a part of these
entertainments.

But the favorite selections of the class, which were asked for
again and again by their friends, were a musical rendering of the
always popular “Spanish Cavalier,” with piano accompaniment to two
mandolins, a mandolin solo called “The Spanish Fantasy,” and a
humorous reading by Miss Brown, entitled “The Spanish Duel.”

It may be that some of my young readers will like to form a
Spanish Class like the one we are describing, and we may say that
this picture is very nearly from real life. So I will present from
ime to time some of the literary exercises of the class; and we
will close this chapter by copying the favorite humorous selection,
‘The Spanish Duel,” of unknown authorship : —

2






















AIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL.

NEAR the city of Sevilla,
Years and years ago,
Dwelt a lady in a villa,
Years and years ago;
And her hair was black as night,
And her eyes were starry. bright ;
Olives on her brow were blooming,
Roses red her lips perfuming,
And her step was light and airy
As the tripping of a fairy;
When she spoke, you thought, each mer
?T was the trilling of a tases
When she sang, you heard a gush
Of full-voiced Sweetness like a thrush;
And she struck from the guitar
Ringing music, sweeter far
Than the morning breezes make
Through the lime-trees when they shake, —
Than the ocean murmuring o’er
Pebbles on the foamy shore.
Orphaned both of sire and mother
Dwelt she in that lonely villa,
Absent now her guardian brother
On a mission from Sevilla.
Skills it little now the telling
How I wooed that maiden fair,
- Tracked her to her lonely dwelling
And obtained an entrance there.
Ah! that lady of the villa —
And I loved her so,
Near the city of Sevilla,
Years and years ago. |
Ay de mi! — Like echoes falling
Sweet and sad and low.
Voices come at night, recalling
Years and years ago.

Once again I’m sitting near thee,
Beautiful and bright:

Once again I see and hear thee
In the autumn night;

Once again I’m whispering to thee
Faltering words of love ;





THE SPANISH CLASS. Ig

Once again with song I woo thee
In the orange grove

Growing near that lonely villa
Where the waters flow

Down to the city of Sevilla —
Years and years ago.

*T was‘an autumn eve ; the splendor
Of the day was gone,
And the twilight, soft and tender,
Stole so gently on ‘
That the eye could scarce discover
How the shadows, spreading over,
Like a veil of silver gray,
Toned the golden clouds, sun-painted,
Till they paled, and paled, and fainted
From the face of heaven away.
And a dim light, rising slowly,
O’er the welkin spread,
Till the blue sky, calm and holy,
Gleamed above our head ;
And the thin moon, newly nascent,
Shone in glory meek and sweet,
As Murillo paints her crescent
Underneath Madonna’s feet.
And we sat outside the villa
Where the waters flow
Down to the city of Sevilla ~
Years and years ago.

There we sate —the mighty river
Wound its serpent course along
Silent, dreamy Guadalquivir,
Famed in many a song.
Silver gleaming ’mid the plain
Yellow with the golden grain,
Gliding down through deep, rich meadow
Where the sated cattle rove,
Stealing underneath the shadows
Of the verdant olive grove ;
With its plentitude of waters,
Ever flowing calm and slow,
Loved by Andalusia’s daughters,
Sung by poets long ago.



ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Seated half within a bower

Where the languid evening breeze
Shook out odors in a shower

From oranges and citron trees,

Sang she from a romancero,
How a Moorish chieftain bold
Fought a Spanish caballero
By Sevilla’s walls of old ;

How they battled for a lady,
Fairest of the maids of Spain, —

How the Christian’s lance, so steady,
Pierced the Moslem through the brain.

Then she ceased; her black eyes, moving,
Flashed, as asked she with a smile,
“ Say, are maids as fair and loving,
Men as faithful, in your isle?”

« British maids,” I said, “are ever
Counted fairest of the fair ;

Like the swans on yonder river
Moving with a stately air.

“ Wooed not quickly, won not lightly,
But when won, forever true ;

Trial draws the bond more tightly,
‘Time can ne’er the knot undo.”

“And the men?” —“ Ah! dearest lady,
Are — quien sabe ? who can say?

To make love they ’re ever ready,
Where they can and where they may ;

“Fixed as waves, as breezes steady
Ina cchangeful April day —

Como brisas, como rios,

‘ No se sabe, sabe Dios.”

‘* Are they faithful ?” —“ Ah! quien sabe ?:

Who can answer that they are ?

While we may we should be happy.” —
Then I took up her guitar,

And I sang in sportive strain,

This song to an old air of Spain.



_ THE SPANISH CLASS, | 21

QUIEN SABE?

I.

“The breeze of the evening that cools the hot air,
That kisses the orange and shakes out thy hair,
Is its freshness less welcome, less sweet its perfume,
That you know not the region from which it is come ?
Whence the wind blows, where the wind goes,
Hither and thither and whither — who knows?

Who knows?

Hither and thither — but whither — who knows ?

Il.

“ The river forever glides singing along,
The rose on the bank bends down to its song ;
And the flower, as it listens, unconsciously dips,
Till the rising wave glistens and kisses its lips.
But why the wave rises and kisses the rose,
And why the rose stoops for those kisses — who knows ?
Who knows?
And away flows the river — but whither — who knows?

III.

“Let me be the breeze, love, that wanders along
The river that ever rejoices in song ;
Be ¢hou to my fancy the orange in bloom,
The rose by the river that gives its perfume.
Would the fruit be so golden, so fragrant the rose,
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?
Who knows ? ,
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?”

As I sang, the lady listened,
Silent save one gentle sigh:
When I ceased, a tear-drop glistened
On the dark fringe of her eye.

Then my heart reproved the feeling
Of that false and heartless strain
Which I sang in words concealing
What my heart would hide in vain.





ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI,

Up I sprang. What words were uttered
Bootless now to think or tell, —

Tongues speak wild when hearts are fluttered
By the mighty master spell.

Love, avowed with sudden boldness,
Heard with flushings that reveal,

Spite of woman’s studied coldness,
Thoughts the heart cannot conceal.

Words half-vague and passion-broken,
Meaningless, yet meaning all

That the lips have left unspoken,
That we never may recall.

“ Magdalena, dearest, hear me,”
Sighed I, as I seized her hand —

“Hola! Sefior,” very near me, ,
Cries a voice of stern command.

And a stalwart caballero .
Comes upon me with a stride,
On his head a slouched sombrero,
A toledo by his side.

From his breast he flung his capa
With a stately Spanish air —

(On the whole, he looked the chap a
Man to slight would scarcely dare.)

“Will your worship have the goodness
To release that lady’s hand?”

“ Sefior,” I replied, “ this rudeness
I-am not prepared to stand.

“ Magdalena, say —’? The maiden,
With a cry of wild surprise,

As with secret sorrow laden,
Fainting sank before my eyes.

Then the Spanish caballero
Bowed with haughty courtesy,
Solemn as a tragic hero,
And announced himself to me.





THE SPANISH CLASS. 22

** Sefior, Iam. Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo
De Xymenes y Ribera
Y Santallos y Herrera
Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa —
Y Zorilla y—” “No more, sir,
’T is as good as twenty score, sir,”
Said I to him, with a frown ;
‘* Mucha bulla para nada, ,
No palabras, draw your ’spada ;
If you’re up for a duello
You will find I’m just your fellow —
Sefior, lam Peter Brown!” |

By the river’s bank that night,
Foot to foot in strife,
Fought we in the dubious light
A fight of death or life.

Don Camillo slashed my shoulder,
With the pain I grew the bolder,
Close and closer still I pressed ;
Fortune favored me at last,
I broke his guard, my weapon passed
Through the caballero’s breast —
. Down to the earth went Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo
De Xymenes y Ribera
Y Santallos y Herrera
Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa
Y Zorilla y— One groan,
And he lay motionless as stone.
. The man of many names went down,
Pierced by the sword of Peter Brown!

Kneeling down, I raised his head; .
The caballero faintly said :

“ Sefior Ingles, fly from Spain

With all speed, for you have slain
A Spanish noble, Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo

De Xymenes y Ribera

Y Santallos y Herrera



24 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa
Y Zorillay—” He swooned
With the bleeding from his wound.
If he be living still, or dead,
I never knew, I ne’er shall know.
That night from Spain in haste I fled,
Years and years ago.

Oft when autumn eve is closing,

Pensive, puffing a cigar,

In my chamber lone reposing,
Musing half, and half a-dozing,

Comes a vision from afar
Of that lady of the villa
In her satin, fringed mantilla,

And that haughty caballero
With his capa and sombrero,
Vainly in my mind revolving

That long, jointed, endless name ; —~
*T is a riddle past my solving,

Who he was or whence he came.
Was he that brother home returned ?
Was he some former lover spurned ?
Or some family fiancé
That the lady did not fancy?

Was he any one of those?
Sabe Dios. Ah! God knows.





Sadly smoking my manilla,
Much I long to know
How fares the lady of the villa

That once charmed me so,
When I visited Sevilla

Years and years ago.
Has she married a Hidalgo?
Gone the way that ladies all go
In those drowsy Spanish cities,
Wasting life — a thousand pities —
Waking up for a fiesta
From an afternoon siesta,
To “ Giralda ” now repairing,
Or the Plaza for an airing ;
At the shaded reja flirting,
At a bull-fight now disporting ;











THE SPANISH CLASS.

Does she walk at evenings ever
Through the gardens by the river?
Guarded by an old duenna

Fierce and sharp as a hyena,

With her goggles and her fan
Warning off each wicked man?

Is she dead, or is she living ?

Is she for my absence grieving ?

Is she wretched, is she happy?
Widow, wife, or maid? Quien sabe?



















25



CHAPTER II.

THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A JOURNEY.

aHE reason for the forming of our Spanish Class
may be of interest to the reader. Mr. Green was
a teacher, and had travelled in Mexico, and Mr.
Diaz was a lover of Spanish art; but Misses Brown
and Gray originated the class, and called to their
instruction the accomplished Mr. Green and Mr.
Diaz. The four studied for a time, with only Mr. and Mrs. Green
and little Arthur Green to note their progress. Mr. Green and_his
wife at first accompanied their daughter and son Arthur to the



class meetings at the houses of the young ladies and Mr. Diaz, as
specially invited guests: They were prosperous people, and soon
became so much interested in the class as to invite the meeting
to their parlors, and to suggest that entertainments in Spanish music
and literature follow the lessons of the class. These entertainments
came to be attended by the special friends of the four pupils, and
the meetings of the class at last formed quite a social feature of
the community.

Misses Brown and Gray had been promised by their fathers a
vacation tour in Europe. Among the countries that they had
planned to visit was Spain, or Andalusia. They had read Irving's
“ Alhambra,” and had pictured to themselves the beauties of the
Valley of the Darro. To prepare for this visit they had taken up
the study of colloquial Spanish, and so formed the class.







THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A FOURNEY. 27

Little Arthur. Green was not a member of the class, but attended
the meetings by permission.
Mr. Green, the teacher, a cousin of the Green family, often spoke






to the class
of the beau-
ties and an-
tiquities of Mexico, and
Mr. Diaz of his visits to
Cuba and Caracas. At
one of the meetings,
when Mr. Green had been describing
the poetic antiquities of the Valley of
Mexico, such as the Sacrificial Stone,
the Shield of Montezuma II., and the
mysterious inscriptions in the grand
Museum near the President’s Palace, Mr. Green, the father of Miss
Green and Arthur, said,—

“Mexico is the American Egypt, and the Gulf of Mexico our
Mediterranean. What in all the world can be more interesting than
the pyramids of this ancient land? I would rather see the ruins

AMONG THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.



28 - ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

of the halls of the Montezumas than the temples of the Pharaohs!
If I were to travel, I would begin in my own land. I would go to
the Great Lakes, to the Thousand Islands, to the Valley of the
Mississippi, and to the Gulf and the table-lands of Mexico. I would
see the Islands of the Discovery, and the tomb of Columbus in
Havana. I would travel first at home, and then abroad.”

“ There would be but little to surprise an American abroad after
he had seen his own lands,” said Mr. Diaz. “The Valley of the
City of Mexico is more beautiful than Italy. The Sierra Madre
is more grand than the Apennines, and Popocatepetl than Vesuvius.
Nothing on earth can exceed the beauty of the paseo of the City of
Mexico, from the official palace to Chapultepec, with its statues of
the Montezumas and ancient and modern heroes. The sky is azure ;
the air is a living splendor; the mountains which glisten with snow
an eternal glory. No birds can sing sweeter than the clarinas; no
roses are more luxuriant than the Mexican,—there are said to bea
hundred varieties. In Mexico everything seems to live. Romance is
there. One dreams of the Toltecs, the Aztecs, the Montezumas,
the Viceroys, and the Dons. Here caciques were tortured for
gold; here came the Viceroys, and among them the poetic Salvia-
tierra and the romantic Galves. The latter lifted. the white pile of
Chapultepec into the clear air, and gave the name to the Texan
city of Galveston. Here Cortes came, and wept on the sad night

near the wonderful walls, under the cypress. At Guadeloupe the»

angels were believed to have been heard singing in the air. You
may not believe the legend, but it shows a poetic mind. The so-
called “ Halls of the Montezumas” may be airy imaginings, and the
pyramids vanishing ruins, but where else can we find such scenic
splendors and poetic charms? Mexico only needs education to make
her the most iovely country in the world.”

“You and Mr. Green would almost make one give up one’s
purpose of first travelling abroad,” said Miss Brown.





e
ah

St





THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A FOURNEY. 29

“] would rather go to the tomb of Columbus than to the tombs
of the old European kings,” said Mr. Green, Senior. “Now I have
a’ proposal to make to the Spanish Class. My wife and I are be:
coming gray-haired. I have been quite successful in my business,
as you well know. If the class will make a tour with my wife and

-me to Chicago, St. Louis, and down the Mississippi Valley to New

Orleans and Tampa, and through the Islands of the Discovery to



























































































































































































=a iil fall 3
a 1
lars ee

, AUR = a
we TN







































































































































































-55==SARGEMISG===

CHAPULTEPEC.









the tomb of Columbus, I will pay all of the expenses. I will study
Spanish with you on our way, and will take my boy Arthur as my
special company. What do you all say?”

“You are very kind, Mr. Green,” said Miss Brown; “but we have
our European journey already planned.”

“Go to Europe another year. See our own Rhine Valley, our
own Mediterranean first. I have worked hard for many years, and
it would make me ‘perfectly happy to go on such a journey with a



30 . ZIGZAG FOURNEYS.ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

party of young people like you. I will treat you all with the
generosity, so far as I am able, of a ‘fine old English cue many
You shall want for nothing that I can supply.”

“You will even give us rooms in the old palace hotel of the
Iturbide?” said Mr. Green, the teacher.

“Yes, if my purse is deep enough for that.”

Miss Brown was silent. She could not forget that custom went
to Europe. Miss Gray did not speak; but little Arthur Green looked
over the back of his mother’s chair, and gave a persuasive glance at
each of the young ladies, and then pointed down to his mother, who
did not see him.

Poor Mrs. Green! How beautiful and patient she looked! Her
hair was gray, her face very white. She had struggled with her
husband in the days when their means were small. As the family
became prosperous, one after another of her children had died, until
only one daughter and little Arthur were left.

Her bereavements made her a mother to every one. She worked
in the church, the hospital, everywhere that she was needed. She
had never sought pleasure at popular resorts. Her heart was always
engaged in quiet duties.

The picture of Arthur pointing down fon the high chair to his
mother’s gray hair was persuasive.

“Let us go to the Mississippi Valley and Mexico,” said Miss Brown.

“Yes,” answered Miss Gray. “Let us go there first, and how
grateful we ought to be for such an opportunity! Mr. Green; we
thank you.”

“ Did ever a prince have such subjects?” said Mr. Green, quoting
Withington.

“Did ever a subject have such a prince?” said Miss Brown,
quoting from the same old story. |

“And now,” said Mr. Green, “let us hear again the Mexican
National Hymn. That shall celebrate our decision.”



THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A fOURNEY. 31

The Mexican National Hymn is indeed a patriotic inspiration.
Seldom has grand national music been wedded to such noble words.
The Mexicans themselves are very proud of it. The Government
allows it to be played only on patriotic occasions and at presidential
receptions. It is always played to announce the coming and reception
of the President. ’

The class were good singers, and the quartette made the parlors
ring with the thrilling inspiration.

The words and music must have interest to our readers, and
especially to any who are studying Spanish, and have not seen them,
or to any about to enter a Spanish class. The song is very effective °



for concert use, and may be sung in Spanish-Mexican costume. —

NATIONAL HYMN.

Coro.
Mexicanos, al grito de guerra
E] acero aprestad y el bridén,
Y retiemble en sus centros la tierra,
Al sonoro rugir del canén.

Cina joh patria! tus sienes de oliva
De la paz el arcdngle divino,

Que en el cielo tu eterno destino
Por el dedo de Dios se escribid.

Mas si osare un extrano enemigo
Profanar con su planta tu suelo,
Piensa joh patria querida! que el cielo
Un soldado en cada hijo te did.

Coro.

En sangrientos combates los viste,
Por tu amor palpitando sus senos,
‘Arrostrar la metralla serenos,

Y Ja muerte 6 la gloria buscar.

Si el recuerdo de antiguas hazanas
De tus hijos inflama la mente,

Los laureles del triunfo tu frente
Volveran inmortales 4 ornar.
Coro.

CHORUS.

At the loud cry of war all assemble,
Then your swords and your steeds all prepare;
And the earth to its centre shall tremble, /
When the cannon’s deep roar rends the air.

Oh! my country, entwine on thy temples
Boughs of olive so fresh and so vernal,
When inscribed in the heavens eternal
Blessed peace for all the land thou dost see.
But if stranger and foe in their boldness
Dare to tread on thy soil, they must perish.
Then, oh! my country, this thought only cherish:
Every son is but a soldier for thee.
CHORUS.

Thou hast seen them in deadliest battle,
Love for thee their proud bosoms inflati
Stand serenely, the bullet awaiting,
Even joyful, seeking glory or death.
If the mem’ry of those ancient combats
Fill thy sons with a zeal that is burning,
Will they, with laurels of triumph returning,
Sing thy glory with their last feeble breath.
CHORUS.



CHAPTER IIL

THE FIRST AMERICA..

ZHE tour that we have planned,” said Mr. Green,
Senior, after one of the lessons of the Spanish



Class, “is really to early First America. Latin —
America had a hundred years of thrilling his: —
tory before the coming of the ‘Mayflower.’ This.
history is associated with the islands of the
Spanish main, Mexico, and Florida, and later, in the seventeenth
century, with the great Mississippi Valley. So we are going to old |
America.

“Champlain saw Lake Huron in 1615; and Nicollet Lake
Michigan in 1634. The first Europeans to see the Illinois were
Marquette and Joliet in 1673. They were hailed by the Indians —
with peace-pipes, as they ascended the Illinois River. Would that
the prophecies of those peace-pipes had been fulfilled !

« After them came La Salle and Tonti, zigzagging on the stream
towards the Mississippi. La Salle gathered the Indian tribes around
a fort called St. Louis, near what is now Starved Rock. Kaskaskia



was founded as a mission, and so the evolution of the empire of the ©
great Mississippi Valley began. The country was governed from |
Quebec and New Orleans. ;

“The great valley saw the French flag, the Spanish flag, and :
the English flag rise and disappear. It saw the romantic mission of _
‘Kaskaskia rise, ring its bells, and vanish. ‘The Illini were starved to |


















THE FIRST AMERICA. 33

death at old Fort St. Louis, by being surrounded by their enemies, —
one of the most dramatic events of any history; for the old tribes
perished with thirst and fever, with the lovely Illinois flowing full
in view.

“The romances of the great Mississippi Valley remain to be
written. No romancer or poet has touched them, no composer
‘sung them. :

“Tf we bound the Valley by the Alleghanies on
‘one side, and the Rocky Mountains on the other, what




a stupendous em- ;
ire it is! Any |
f the leading |

ie

han old Spain.
England and
Scotland would
‘be mere dots on this magnificent territory. !,
“ Narvaez of the expedition of De Soto visited Louisiana in 1542,
om. his rude brigantines; and earlier by two years Coronado had rested
_by the Moqui pueblos. So you see we are going through the valleys
_of the First America. And when travel becomes a part of our system
of American education, this is the first tour that the student should
make.”

“So we must all study hard,” said Arthur. “Como se llama eso? %

3

MARQUETTE AND JOLIET WELCOMED ©
BY THE INDIANS.



34. . ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

(What do you call this?) he asked of Miss Gray, holding up a rail-
road ticket. © :

“No comprendo, Sefior,” answered Miss Gray.

“Then how do you expect we shall ever get there?” asked
Arthur, good-humoredly.

“No comprendo, Sefior (I do not understand).”







































i i)

L iRS iA \\ 4 . is ar Uy
ang!

TR GER



LA SALLE IN SEARCH OF THE MOUTH OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ Deme usted un cerillo,” said Arthur, “and I will retire.”

“No comprendo, Sefior.”

«“ Adios,” said Arthur; and the class in chorus replied, —

“ Buenas noches!” :

Although Arthur was not a member of the class, he learned much f
by listening to the others; and his little jokes often stimulated study. —
He often asked questions of Mr. Green, the teacher, about the ©
language.

“JT would not like to be swindled when I am in Cuba,” he said ©







THE FIRST AMERICA. 35

one day to Mr. Green, after an hour with the class. “What is a
dollar in Spanish?”
“ Un peso,” ? said Mr. Green.

‘i

al

eS seul





LA SALLE TAKING POSSESSION OF THE COUNTRY FOR FRANCE.

“ And a quarter of a dollar?”

“A real is twelve and a half cents; dos reales would be twenty-
five cents, and cuatro reales fifty cents. A one-cent piece is called
centavo, six and a quarter cents are called a medzo, and one dollar
in gold, escudito de oro.”

“What are the Spanish words for ‘ how much’?”

“Simply the word ‘quanto.’ ”

“Gracias, Sefior. Is ¢ha¢ right?”

1 pa’so.



36 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

«« Sf, Sefior, or more politely, ‘ Mil gracias (A thousand thanks),
Seftor ’.”



In preparation
for his visit to
the great Mis-
sissippi Valley,
Arthur read the
works of Park-
man, and _ the
History of the
Civil War. Park.’
man’s “ Life of
La Salle” and
the “ Pioneers of













France in the
LA SALLE ON THE MISSISSIPPI. New World”
opened to him a
vision of wonderful history of which he had never before dreamed.
“T love to travel in imagination,” he said one day to his
father; “and eee
whether I real- YAP eh, aS
ly go on this 4% a Ws 5
journey or not, (YWa7nDeZ Af i nee | :
I have already Age me

4
i
}
f
ae

CG

been in anticipa-



tion, and have



had a veal good

time.”
















The class
had first enter-

tained the plan
1 INDIAN TEMPLE VISITED BY LA SALLE. Fea
of taking Mex- .

PEA TT RUE ZOU
Oe





im

i



















| THE FIRST AMERICA. 37

ico into their journey, but finally decided to go only to those Mexi-
can places that are directly associated with the Columbian Discovery
and the World's Fair, Chicago, the Mississippi Valley, and the Spanish
Main. Mr. Green géve gave up the purpose of going to glorious old
Mexico reluctantly, but saw that it would be well to follow strictly
historical lines in the educational journey, which he hoped to make a
useful as well as entertaining outing. He saw the future in the pres-
ent of all that enters into young people’s lives, and so arranged the
journey with the historical impression in view.



CHAPTER IV.
THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE.

ROMANCES OF THE COLUMBIAN SEAS. — “ CRAZY JANE.” — THE GREAT AMERICAN LEGEND:.



Ay WHEN Arthur Green saw the prospect of making a

tour through the Mississippi Valley to the Co-
lumbian Seas and Islands of the Discovery, he be-
came a student of books that pictured the old
history of these places. He read Prescott and
Janvier. He bought a Spanish phrase-book, and
began the study of a Spanish grammar. He read the story of the Cid,
and asked that his Christmas present might be a Spanish edition of
“Don Quixote.” He had read Irving’s works on Spanish history
before he had thought of the Mexican journey. .

He would greet his sister in the morning with a light, happy, ban-
tering jargon of Spanish words, somewhat as follows : —

“ Buenos dias, Senorita!? (Good-day!) Cémo est4 usted?” (How
are you?) Qué horaes?* (What time is it?)”

To such salutations and interrogations his sister would soinonly
answer, “ Si, Sefor,” or “ Si, Caballero,” without regard to the fitness of
the musical words to the question.

His mother, although a quiet home woman, was a reader of the best
books. In his historical reading he found in her an interested and
intelligent adviser.

1 Buay’nohs dee’ahs, sain-yo-re’ta. 2 Co’moh es-tah’ oos-tayth’? 3 Kay oh’rah ess?





THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 39

’

He one day heard Mr. Diaz speak of Cuba as “the ever faithful
isle.” The expression is poetic, and excites curiosity ; and he asked
his mother its meaning.

“It is a title which the Spanish. Court and people were proud to
bestow upon Cuba,” said Mrs. Green, “ because the island has always
been faithful to the Spanish Crown. Cuba was not the first name
given to the island; Columbus named it Juana.”

“ After ‘Crazy Jane,” said Mr. Green. “It was a very appro-
priate name. She was as faithful as the island of Cuba has been.”

“ Crazy Jane?” The name suggested astory. Who was Juana, or
“ Crazy Jane,” and how had she been so faithful ?

STORY OF CRAZY JANE, THE DAUGHTER OF ISABELLA.

“T will tell you,” said Mrs. Green, in answer to such inquiries.
“Juana, or ‘Crazy Jane’ as she has been thoughtlessly called, — for it
seems to me unkind to refer to the infirmities of such a woman
in that way, — was a daughter of Isabella, and the mother of Charles
‘V. You must read Robertson’s ‘Charles V.’ She lost her mind
when a young woman, and she
watched over the dead body of her
husband for nearly half a century,
and took no interest in the great
history that the world was then mak-
ing. So yousee she was faithful to
him.”

“Who was her husband? ”- asked © |
Arthur.

“ Philip the Handsome, Arch-duke
of Austria.”

“Was Juana beautiful ? ”

“No, she was plain, poor woman; and this was one of the causes

_ that overthrew her mind, and made her melancholy.”





40 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ But she was great ?”

“Yes, as the mother of Charles v. y

“Tam interested in this woman, whose name was given to Cuba..
You say that she was great as the mother of Charles V. Who was
Charles. V?” .

“ He was an Emperor of Germany, born at Ghent in 1500, eight
years after the discovery of America by Columbus. He was an heir to
the Spanish throne; and when he was sixteen years of age he became
King of Spain, reigning in place of his mother, Juana, who wished
for no kingdom but the tomb of her husband. The famous diplomat
Ximenes was the leading mind in the state during the reign of the young
king. At the age of nineteen he succeeded to the throne of Ger-
many, and was crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1520, and received from
the Pope the title of Emperor of Rome. He. was the Emperor of |
the days of the Reformation. It was in 1521, in the early part of his
reign, that the Diet at Worms was called, which may be said to have ~
changed the religious. and political events of the world.” |

“I now begin to see his place in history,” said Arthur. “He was |
the Emperor of the days of Luther. He conquered the world.” |

“A great part of the European world,” said Mrs. Green. “He |
subdued Castile, overcame the Turks, drove the French from Italy, |
made Francis I. a prisoner, and while yet a youth became master —
of continental Europe. At the age of twenty-five the son of un-
happy Juana was king among kings, and the greatest emperor in the |
world.”

“Did his mother share the glory?” asked Arthur. ,

“No; only in fame. She took no interest in these events; and |
the knowledge that she was the mother of the Empéror of the world |
never brought a smile to her face. Her heart had been crushed in her |
young years, and it seemed to have become incapable of happiness or |
affection.”

“What became of Charles V.?” asked Arthur.









/ : ty

rae SS



a i

CARDINAL XIMENES,



















THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. A3

“He took Rome by storm, plundered it, and made a prisoner of
the Pope. War followed war, in which he was generally successful. »
But in middle life he became a victim of the melancholy of his mother,
gave up his throne to his son, and retired to a monastery, where he




Zt Ss
EN LS
EZ
(ELLA
iy

EE ie
tf



LAGE <
of eee” I
or

/ PHILIP It,

passed two years in dejection, gloom, and the renunciation of all
things. In this darkness he died. He was the father of Philip II.
of Spain.”
“Philip II].?” asked Arthur.. “He hada strange history.”
“Brilliant and dark,” said Mrs. Green. “You must read Prescott.
Philip was cold, haughty, and politic from his childhood. He inherited
the melancholy of his blood, and the shadow was apparent in his early





44 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

years. He was not like other boys. His teachers could not mould
him. He was the heartless husband of ‘Bloody Mary,’ or Mary

Tudor; and Mexico and Peru and the Spanish main were a part of
his vast dominions.”



QUEEN ISABELLA.

“He was the king who caused the fitting out of the Invincible
Armada?”

“Yes, and the one who set in order the. Inquisition. His reli-
gious zeal injured the very cause he espoused, and he left a dark name
on his age. He was very religious but very cruel, and his character
was one of singular contradictions.” j

« But,” said Arthur, “tell me now the story of Juana.”

“TI know of no story in history that is more pathetic,” said Mrs.







THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. , 45

Green. “When Columbus visited the Court of Isabella, he must —
have met there a dark, plain-looking girl, who was interesting only
from the position that she would be likely to occupy in the world.
But she was the daughter of Isabella, and the hope of thé royal family ;
and these associations must have impressed the mind of Columbus.
Of all the islands of the great discovery, Cuba, as it is now called, was
the most wonderful and beautiful; and to this crown jewel of the
Western seas Columbus gave the name of Juana.

“The unhappiness of the young princess arose from disappointed
love. She married while very young, and loved her husband with a
passion that consumed her mind and heart. He did not return her
love. With him the marriage was merely a political event. He was
very: handsome; she was homely. Her devotion to him disgusted
him, and he neglected her. But notwithstanding his neglect and
aversion, her love for him became her life. Fame was nothing, power
was nothing, family ties nothing, if she might have the heart of Philip.
Her only desire in life was for his love. She was a beggar for his
affection, and for that only. In comparison with his love, kingdoms
were mere earth to her, and crowns were dust. She followed him
everywhere ; his smile was her joy, and his neglect her misery.

“He was untrue to her in every way. She knew it, but would not
admit it. Whatever he might be or do, she was tesolved to be true
to him; and she was true.

io She pained Isabella by her want of interest in affairs of state.
The Court saw her morbid conduct with anxiety. She was a slave to
a passion so absorbing as to unfit her to become a true queen.

“The crisis came: Philip died. Her heart seemed to die with him.
She caused his dead body to be kept in her room fora long time, in
hope that it would revive. She followed it from one part of the
country to another, on its long journey to the tomb, watching over
it by night under the moon and stars, and once causing the coffin to
be opened in the vain hope that life would return. Mrs. Moulton, in
a short poem, thus tells the touching story : —



46

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

THE VIGIL OF QUEEN JUANA.

OVER the desert ways,
The yellow sands of Spain,
Wandered through weary days
The mad Queen, “ Crazy Jane ;”

Walking beside the bier
Whereon /e lay, at last,
Philippe le Bel, her dear,
False lord, by Death held fast.

Daughter of noble race,
Anointed Queen of Spain,

In her unsheltered face
Dashed the unpitying rain.

By the fierce sun opprest

She sought no green, soft nook, —
She laid her down to rest

Beside no babbling brook.

Straight on through day and night
She held her lonely way,

For whom no fresh delight
Could spring, by night or day.

Through sad Life’s loss and pain
She loved, whom Love forgot,
Till Death restored again
‘Her lord who loved her not.

To Tordesillas-height
She bore her dead so dear,
And there, by day and night, ©
Watched still beside his bier.

Till forty-seven long years
Of watching and despair,
Of weariness and tears,
Had found and left her there;

And then, grown old and gray,
Feeble and scant of breath,

The mad Queen passed away
To the vast realm of Death.















THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE, 47

Found she her own again?

Did he who worked her woe
Reward her life’s long pain

With bliss that none can know ?

The lips of Death are dumb,
The answer who can tell ?
No news shall ever come
If they be ill or well.

“Juana watched by the dead body of Philippe le Bel (or Philip the
Beautiful) for forty-seven years. Kingdoms rose and fell ; her son ascen-
ded the throne of the world; the new world uncovered its wonders: the
grandest events of history passed, but she heeded not any event. Her .
heart was in that one golden coffin, faithful to a heart that had never
been faithful to her. Her life fed on the dream of how happy she
might have been had this man only loved her. In this dream of what
might have been she died, withered and old.

“There are some events in the life of Juana that are among the
most curious in history. In her watch by the dead for nearly fifty
years, she was in matters of state a queen, and her name appeared on
all great state papers. |

“Again, the Spanish people so loved her as the daughter of
Isabella, and as one who had been cruelly wronged in her affections,
that they reverenced her both as a woman and queen, although she
seems to have taken little notice of this touching loyalty, and was
apparently indifferent to it. She seemed to care only to be known
as one whose heart died with her great love, and was buried in the
shadows of her sorrow.

“ And again, — what a subject for a poem or for the painter’s art |
— it was at the time of her death, that Charles V., her son, the great
and terrible Emperor, resolved to resign the thrones of the world for
a cloister. The two in reality went out of history at nearly the same
time, both of them weary of the world and all of its affairs.”

a



48 : ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“This is one of the strangest stories I have ever heard,” said
Arthur. “Did Charles V. sympathize with his mother?”

“She was as if dead to him. He feared her malady, and he used to
pray that he might never lose his reason. His last days were full of
the bigotry of a misled conscience, of sincere piety, and of most pic-
turesque and dramatic incidents. You may read it all in Robertson’s

! A







Kit A
i wu
AE Zz

Ms

ny

ue



OE
un “

SH

ABDICATION OF CHARLES V.

Charles V. There are few things more unfortunate in religion than a
morbid mind; and the church has had to suffer for the mental clouds
of these royal people in such a way as almost to dim the glory of
Isabella.”

“T am glad that Columbus remembered Juana in the days of
triumph,” said Arthur.



THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 49

“T always thought his tribute to Juana was one of the beautiful
incidents of life,” said Mrs. Green.

“In the royal tombs of Granada,” she continued, “sleep Ferdi-
nand and Isabella, and beside them the bodies of Philippe le Bel and
poor Juana, his unhappy wife; all beyond the reach of glory or
passion or sorrow. I would like to visit these tombs.”

“We shall visit the tomb of Columbus at Havana?” said Arthur.

“Yes; we hope to do so.”

“IT shall think of Juana there. Will you not?”

“Yes, my dear Arthur.”

The story of Juana, or Joanna, greatly interested Arthur in the
studies of the club, One evening when the romances of Inez de
Castro and Bernardo del Carpio had been related in the class, Mr.
Green, the teacher, said: “ The great Spanish romance, which is likely
to become the representative legend of America, is the vision of
Ponce de Leon.” He added: “ All nations have some great legend
which represents the spirit of their history. In Germany it is the
Rheingold, which Wagner has made eternal by his heroic music; in
England it is King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, or
the search for the Holy Grail. It was so with Greece in the tale
of the Argonauts, and with Rome in the voyages of Afneas. The story
of Joseph is the spiritual prophecy of the Jews, and that of Buddha and
the Bo-tree, of the Hindus.

“The legend of Ponce de Leon represents the struggle of the
soul for larger knowledge and higher attainment, of the dreams of
the dead finding the real. That is America. It is the most beautiful
allegory of America’s life and mission.

“ Already the legend is beginning to take form. It has been put
into solid art in the palace hotel at St. Augustine. Poetry and music
will follow in its development as in the legends of old.”

4



50 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“T hope that we may visit Porto Rico,” said Miss Green. “ That
was the scene of Ponce de Leon’s visions, was it not?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Diaz; “and there are many romantic incidents
associated with the legend that are not well known. I will try to
relate them at some future meeting of the club. If possible we musi
visit Porto Rico, the most beautiful of the Antilles, a part of our
journey.”

Mr. Diaz had interested the class. At a meeting held a few
weeks after this introduction of the legend, he related the following
story :— :

AMERICA’S GREAT LEGEND; OR, THE ROMANCE OF PONCE
. DE LEON.

Ponce DE Leon! was a page in the Court of Spain, in the days |
of the rise of Ferdinand and Isabella. Among the wonder tales of |
his youth were the wars of Granada, and later the expulsion of the
Moors. The boy page had an active imagination ; it is said that he —
was an attendant of a prince, and afterward a secretary or page of an _
officer of rank and influence. He was in hearing of all the exciting y
news of the times as he grew to manhood: he became a soldier, and
won fame in the Conquest of Granada; and the triumphs of Colum. |
bus filled his soul with a desire to visit the lands beyond the sea.

In the year 1493 he set sail with Columbus from the port of Cadiz
for the Western World. The fleet consisted of seventeen ships and —
fifteen hundred men. The expedition is known as the second voyage —
of Columbus. It was on this voyage that Columbus discovered _
Jamaica and the Caribbean Islands, and that the whilom page first :
saw those green paradises of the purple seas to which he was destined
to return as governor, and thence to be led by his poetic and pro-
phetic dreams to find the solid land of the continent of America.

| Pronounced Pon’tha da Lay-on’.







THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 51

Ponce de Leon, although he was a poet, was a brave and valorous
man, and excelled in the arts of war as well as of peace. The world
has had some imaginative warriors; he was one, and what he saw in
his dreams he executed in his active life. He saw the palmy islands
about Hispaniola, and obtained permission from Governor Ovando to
lead an expedition to them in search of gold.

He sailed away with Spaniards, Indians, and interpreters, his hori-
zon full of golden visions. Nor was he disappointed. The cacique
of one of the islands led him to a river whose crystal waters ran over
stones and pebbles that were veined with gold, and Ponce returned to
Hispaniola a happy man. :

Happy? But what would be the use of rivers paved with gold, if
death were close at hand? Here were islands like paradises; the air
seemed celestial; birds sang all the day, and flowers carpeted the
earth. Here the soil supported the inhabitants; bread grew on the
trees, and fountains sang in the shadows. Here people lived to love
each other. They had an eternal father in the sun which provided
them with all things. Why should they die here?

In 1509 Ponce de Leon was appointed Governor of Porto Rico,
the land of the golden rivers; and but for the shadow of the thought
of death, his happiness would have been complete, An earthly para-
dise, honors, gold, and everything but a promise of continued exist-
ence! He subdued the Indians, and began to rule right royally.

The Indians at first thought that the Spaniards were as immortal
as they desired to be. But after a time they began to doubt the fair
gods’ immortality. One of them resolved to test his doubt by drop-
ping a Spaniard whom he was carrying over a river into the water,
and allowing him to drown. He put his plan into execution; and the
body of: the drowned Spaniard did not revive, althotgh the Indian
watched it for three days.

“ Mortal like us,” said the Indians. Then the caciques combined
and waged war against the Spaniards, and the golden realm of Ponce



52 he ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

de Leon was as unquiet as other’ places of the earth where human
passions rule and the law of equal right is disregarded.

The Indians burned his villages, and drove him into a fortress,
and held him a virtual prisoner. He was however reinforced from
Hispaniola, when the Indians thought that the Spaniards whom they
had killed had come to life again, and the belief in the immortality of
the people “from the skies ” was revived.

In the midst of his troubles and altered fortunes, Ponce de Leon
was relieved of his position as Governor, or Adelantado, by the king.

He was now greatly depressed. In this state of mind he one day
met some venerable Indians whom he regarded as prophetic mes-
sengers. He questioned about other islands of gold.

They pointed to the north.

“ The land abounds with gold?”

« The rivers are gold.”

“ What else is there?”

“Everything that the sun can give.” They added: “ The people
there live forever.” :

“How?”

“ They drink of a river, and the water is life.”

Here indeed was the land of all his dreams. He was yet rich,
and he would fit out a new expedition, and would set his white
sails towards the north.

It is said that the Cavalier, although not old, had begun to lose
his early beauty. It is also said that he had met a lovely Italian girl,
for whose sake he wished that he might become young again.

He further questioned the prophetic Indians. They told him that
there was an island, named Bimini, lying far out in the sea, which
also had a wonderful fountain, and that those who drank of this foun-
tain became young again, and remained so forever.

This was all that he could desire. The withering stalk of life
would bloom again. His spring of years would be brought back.





THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 53

He could love again, wed again, and never find his mind clouded
again with any fear of disease or death.

And so the happy mariner sailed away, but returned to Porto
Rico with more wrinkles and gray hair than before. He had seen
Florida, and searched in vain for the fountain. But the dream stil]
haunted him. He repaired to Spain, and was made Governor of Florida,
Bimini, and the realms of his imagination when he should find them.

He found them, — beautiful Florida again in this world, and a
poisoned arrow there which ended his search, after a brief fever, and .
gave him immortality in a better world than this.

Nor will his name die here. The world will never forget that
beautiful Palm Sunday when he landed in Florida, and praised God
under the blooming trees, near the present poetic town of St.
Augustine.

America has only one city that is a poem, and that is an eternal
monument to the poetic soul of the old Cavalier.

There is a legend that associates Silver Springs, Florida, with the
search of Ponce de Leon. A more thrilling legend connects the
Waukulla Spring, near the old Magnolia River, with the experiments
of the fanciful explorers.

The popular legend of the trial of the rejuvenating waters is so
poetic and tragic that I have endeavored to express it in verse.

THE LEGEND OF WAUKULLA.

THROUGH darkening pines the cavaliers marched on their sunset way,
While crimson in the trade-winds rolled far Appalachee Bay,
Above the water-levels rose palmetto crowns like ghosts
Of kings primeval; them behind, the shadowy pines in hosts.
“O cacique, brave and trusty guide,
Are we not near the spring,
The fountain of eternal youth, that health to age doth bring ?’
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“* The fount is fair,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.’’

















54

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“But vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never youth’s departed days come back to age again ;
The future in the spirit lies, and earthly life is brief,
’T is you that say the fount hath life,” so said the Indian chief.
“ Nay, Indian king; nay, Indian king,
Thou knowest well the spring,
And thou shalt die if thou dost fail our feet to it to bring.”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is bright,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

- Then said the guide: “O men of Spain, a wondrous fountain flows

From deep abodes of gods below, and health on men bestows.
Blue are its deeps and green its walls, and from its waters gleam
The water-stars, and from it runs the pure Waukulla’s stream.
But, men of Spain, but, men of Spain,
°T is you who say that spring
Eternal youth and happiness to men again will bring.”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The fount is clear,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

“ March on, the land enchanted is ; march on, ye men of Spain ;
Who would not taste the bliss of youth and all its hopes again.
Enchanted is the land; behold! enchanted is the air ;
The very heaven is domed with gold; there’s beauty everywhere !”
So said De Leon. ‘ Cavaliers,
We're marching to the spring,
The fountain of eternal youth; that health to age will bring!”’
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is pure,
: Waukiulla !
By the old Magnolia River.”

Beneath the pines, beneath the yews, the deep magnolia shades,
The clear Waukulla swift pursues its way through floral glades ;
Beneath the pines, beneath the yews, beneath night’s falling shade,
Beneath the low and dusky moon still marched the cavalcade.

“ The river widens,” said the men;

“ Are we not near the spring,





THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. a5

The fountain of eternal youth that health to age doth bring ?”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is near,
Waukulla!
On the old Magnolia River.” :

“The fount is fair and bright and clear, and pure its waters run ;
Waukulla, lovely in the moon and beauteous in the sun.
But vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never youth’s departed days come back to man again,
, O men of Spain! O men of Spain!
*T is you that say the spring
Eternal youth and happiness to withered years will bring!”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is deep,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

The river to a grotto led, as to a god’s abode ;
There lay the fountain bright with stars ; stars in its waters flowed;
The mighty live-oaks round it rose, in ancient mosses clad.
De Leon’s heart beat high for joy ; the cavaliers were glad,
‘*O men of Spain! O men of Spain!
This surely is the spring,
The fountain fair that health and joy to faces old doth bring !”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is old,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

“ Avalia, O my trusty friend, that we this day should see !
Strip off thy doublet and descend the glowing fount with me!”
“The saints! I will,’? Avalla said. “ Already young I feel,
And younger than my sons shall I return to old-Castile.”’
Then plunged De Leon in the spring,
And then Avalla old ;
Then slowly rose each wrinkled face above the waters cold.
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is yours,
Waukulla!
By the old Magnolia River.”’



556 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Oh, vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never yonth’s departed days come back to man again;
The crowns Castilian could not bring the withered stalk a leaf ;
But came a sabre flash that morn, and fell the Indian chief.
Another sabre flash, and then
The guide beside him lay,
And red the clear Magnolia ran toward Appalachee Bay.
Then from the dead
The Spaniards fled,
And cursed the spring,
Waukulla,
And the old Magnolia River.

“ Like comrades life was left behind, the years shall o’er me roll,
For all the hope that man can find lies hidden in the soul.
Ye white sails lift, and drift again across the southern main ;
There wait for me, there wait us all, the hollow tombs of Spain!”
Beneath the liquid stars the sails
Arose and went their way,
And bore the gray-haired cavaliers from Appalachee Bay.
The young chiefs slept,
And maidens wept,
Beside the bright
Waukulla,
On the old Magnolia River !

This is tradition and fancy. Let us return to some interesting
facts associated with this beautiful story.

Puerto Rico, or Porto Rico, is the tomb of Ponce de Leon. The
port of Ponce still bears the name of the romantic cavalier. |

His tomb bears an heroic inscription : —

“ Here rest the bones of a man who was a Leon by name, and still more by nature.”

*¢ Mole sub hac fortis requiescat ossa Leon
Qui vicit factis nomina magna suis.”

Ponce de Leon was a religious man after the crude teachings of
the times in which he lived.

In February, 1521, he thus wrote to Charles V., the son of
Juana, who was then in the beginning of his reign : —





THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 57

“T discovered at my own cost and charge the Island of Florida : ; and now I
return to that island, if it please God’s will, to settle it, that the name of Christ
may be praised there.”

The language is a picture of the heart of the man. Like Colum-
bus, he regarded himself as under divine direction. There was much
of the prophet as well as the poet in his soul.

The date of his birth is uncertain. It has been placed at 1560.
He is said to have been employed as a page to the infant Ferdinand,
who was born in 1552. If this be true, and if he was brought up in the
Court of Aragon, his boyhood must have been as poetic as his old age.
He is spoken of as being old when he went in search of the Fountain
of Youth. This.is usually done to meet the poetic requirements of
the great legend. He was really in the prime of life at the jime.
He died at about the age of sixty, in the early afternoon of manhood.

If his boyhood was passed in the Court of Ferdinand V., the
famous Ferdinand of the years of the Conquest of Granada and the
Great Discovery, who in marriage wedded his kingdom to Castile
and shared the ‘glory of Isabella, he must have been schooled in the
high art of the times, and in the romances of the minstrels and trouba-
dours. The cities of Spain, and especially those of Cordova, Granada,
and Barcelona, were devoted to literature, art, and music. Prescott
describes the Floral Academy which was endowed by the Kings of
Nugon, and which was situated at Barcelona. It was a school of
poetry and music.

“The topics of discussion,” says Prescott, “ were the praises of the
Virgin, love, arms, and other good usages. The performances of the
candidates were inscribed on parchments of various colors, richly
enamelled with silver and gold, and beautifully illuminated. The
poems were publicly recited by the poets, and then referred to a com-
mittee, who took a solemn oath to decide upon their merits after the
rules of art. On the delivery of their verdict, a wreath of gold was
placed upon the victorious poem, and the troubadour was escorted to



58 ‘ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

the royal palace amid a cortege of minstrelsy and chivalry; thus,
according to an old chronicler, “ manifesting to the world the supe-
riority which God and Nature have assigned to genius.”

Such is a glowing picture of literature and art in Aragon in the
young days of Ferdinand, and his boy page, Ponce de Leon.



CHAPTER YV.
ARTHUR.

] HE Greens lived in one of the beautiful villages in
the Berkshire Hills, famous for character and intelli-
gence. Among the neighboring towns was Pitts-
field, of literary reputation, and Lenox, the autumn
Newport, famous for its scenic beauty at the time of
the falling leaves. Greylock is the dome of the
hills in this charming region which has produced noble men and



women for many generations.

Mr. Green was a graduate of Williams College, and a man of liter-
ary tastes, and was connected’ with a prosperous publishing-house in
Boston. Mrs. Green was a woman of culture and quiet, refined tastes,
and had a keen sense of humor. She was a good story-teller, for her
humor enabled her to present insincerity in its true light, and her high
moral sense to make what is good and true appear in its rightful color-
ing. Mr. and Mrs. Green had taken great pains in the mental train-
ing of their son, and had selected his reading with care.

“The young mind feeds on what it reads,” Mr. Green used to say,
“and forms its character by it. Tell me what a boy likes most to read
and I will give you his true character and forecast his future. And,”
he used to add with emphasis, “ there is nothing that so forms youth-
ful character as short stories.”

Mr. Green saw the influence of short-story reading as a means of
mental and moral education, and used to speak of it often among his
friends.



60 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI

He was a member of the School Board, and used to read: papers on
literary topics before the “High School; and one of these gave his
views on the short story as a means of unconscious education. As
the short stories of Mr. and Mrs. Green will form a large part of this
volume, we give Mr. Green’s views as presented in this paper : —

SHORT STORIES AND SHORT-STORY WRITING.

THE short story is the leading literary event of the day; the parable and
popular feature of the times. The most acceptable short story is that which in
some way interprets the times. This kind of story is criticised as an evidence
of literary degeneracy, but wherein does it differ from the best and most lasting
models of the past? The stories of Joseph and Ruth and of the Talmud will
forever interpret the spirit of the Hebrew race; the ‘Arabian Nights” stand
for the vanished thrones and courts of the Orient; the stories of the Golden
Fleece, of Plutarch’s heroes, and of the death of Socrates are a spiritual map of
Greece; the “Rheingold” interprets Germany in her long struggles of the
New against the Old; and the spiritual history of England from Chaucer to
Dickens may be best read in short stories and ballads — which are short stories
in rhyme—which sympathetic interpretation has made immortal. Short
stories are not only the interpreters of history and the soul, but of the spirit of
the ages in all their seasons. And is it to be regretted that American writing
should have taken this form, amid the progress and activities of the times, when
the sun of our history is leaving the horizon?’

Before the Christian era, Horace in his “ De Arte Poetica” thus gave the
secret of the most popular and enduring methods of writing: ‘‘He that hath
blent the useful with the agreeable hath carried every vote. His book crosses
the sea: it will enrich the Socii, and win for him imperishable fame.” It is
the story that makes what is useful agreeable that best meets the wants of life.
“He is a genius,” said Emerson, “ who gives me back my own thoughts.” He
who can well say what others think becomes a voice of the times, and a brother
to all men. The Great Teacher of life himself made use of these methods.
The Gospel of Luke is a book of short stories. The story of the Holy Grail
will forever interpret the knighthood of England, and that of Ponce de Leon
the spirit of the American student.

America has as yet produced not many short ere “that promise to live.
Of those that seem likely to become representative, the best are in verse. I



‘ ARTHUR. 61

was recently asked by a student what I thought to be the most beautiful short
story ever written. I replied, ‘That of Joseph in the Hebrew Scriptures.” I
was asked again what I regarded as the best short story in American literature.
I answered, “ Evangeline;” but received the correction, the “ Legend of Sir
Launfal.” I have heard Baron Fouqué’s “ Undine” named as the most beauti-
ful of all short stories of the creative imagination. It might be a good exercise
for literary societies to debate and analyze these questions, and the answers that
they would be likely to receive: What is the most beautiful story in all the
world? What is the best in American books?

Among the representative short stories in our literature before the present
time of interpretative story-writing we may cite Irving’s “ Rip Van Winkle,”
Poe's “ Gold Bug,” Hawthorne’s “ Province House Stories,’ Harriet Prescott :
Spofford’s ‘* Amber Gods,” Fitz-James O’Brien’s “Diamond Lens,” Edward
Everett Hale’s “Man without a Country,” and Bret Harte’s “ Luck of Roaring
Camp.” ;

All writers should be familiar with these models, but they seem to have
been but early stars in our Western sky. Within a few years short-story
writers have appeared in nearly every section of our country as the interpre-
ters of the genius of the places where they lived or of the spirit and progress of
the times. Ten years ago a book of short stories could hardly find a publisher;
now it is the current reading.

The popular short story takes three leading forms, —that which seeks to
interpret the times, which is in some way a parable; the folk-lore picture; and
psychological analysis. Of these the form that deals with the spirit and ten-

encies of current events seems to be the principal in interest, though the most
short-lived of all. :

The revival of interest in village stories, old neighborhood events, home
tales, and the dialect and methods of the old natural story-tellers must be
regarded as one of the instructive methods of the times. These stories, which
follow the models of Sir Walter Scott’s “ Tales of a Grandfather” and Haw-
thorne’s ‘‘ Grandfather’s Chair,” are becoming the conservators of the incidental
part of our history. Incidents are the soul-expression of events. Grimm’s
“Fairy Tales” are the household history of Germany. The soul of a town
lives in its popular story. The time has come to collect the best stories of our
own land, and to give them permanent form, as has been done in part by Mr.
Harris, Mr. Cable, Bret Harte, and Miss Wilkins. Every State in the Union
may have its Hans Christian Andersen. Tales of colonial houses and farms, and
of Southern plantations; strange Indian fancies; old French legends of the rez-
contres ; pioneer cabin lore; yarns of ships and sailors; and the humorous and

e



62 _ ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

remarkable events of neighborhoods and villages, — all this varied material may
now well begin to engage the pen, and will be likely to prove historically instruc-
tive. Our history is mellowing for such work, for the charm of such stories is
the gay in gray garments of the past.

The psychological story, as a rule, is the highest form of art, and, like
‘“‘Rasselas,” “Undine,” and “Rip Van Winkle,” is likely to prove the most
enduring. There are fewer stories of this kind than of the others which are
now being produced. This may indicate a material tendency of the age. In
the Hebrew Talmud nearly all of the short stories relate to spiritual events, for
such thoughts filled the minds of the people. The genius of the nation was
spiritual, as that of Germany is metaphysical. But such writers of short stories
as Mrs. Phelps-Ward still hold the interest of the best minds, and easily lead
all others in dealing in jewels and interpreting what is best in life.

Will the old emotional love-story in the form of the three volumes ever
’ come back again? I hope not. The most enduring parables of life are short,
and these models of the past are the best for all time. Read Horace’s “‘De
Arte Poetica” for the first principles of literary art, in all of its forms. The
old Apulian poet, after giving to the world that brief poem of direction, left
but little for any one to say. “He that hath blent the useful with the agree-
able hath carried every vote.” The most agreeable form of literary teaching in
our times and country has become the short story, and we see no reason to
criticise it, to disparage its mission, or to regret its advent. We would rather
welcome it as the good genius of our hearts, hearths, and homes.

There was a Village Improvement Society in the town, and this
had once engaged the activities of our young people of the Spanish
Class. The society gave entertainments, beautified old historic
places, set out trees in public ways, made a flower-garden of the
public-school yard, purchased pictures for the town hall, and caused
portraits of worthy citizens to be placed there. The work was
patriotic and educational, and the Spanish Class grew out of this
progressive training. The members of the class were still members
of the Improvement Society.

One of the purposes of the society was the collection of Village
Folk Lore. Mrs. Green had been a very useful member in this
department of literary work. Every village has traditions and



ARTHUR. 63

stories that pass on from one generation to another because of
their wit or worth. They are much like Grimms « Household Tales
of Germany.” The society collected these tales from the old story-
tellers. Mrs. Green supplied a number of. such stories, chiefly
traditions of the Battle of Bennington, of Elder John Leland, and
the marvellous stories of the Great Cheshire Cheese.

There was one story which Mr. Green used to relate that he
was often asked to repeat. It had some very curious points and
picturings. As an illustration of the stories of this tradition-loving
family, we will give this story here: —

THE GHOST OF GREYLOCK.

IT was a clear evening late in December. I recall it well, though I was a
boy then. A gold star was shining in the fading crimson over the old New
England town near Greylock like a lamp in a chapel window. The woodland
pastures were purple with gentians, red with cranberries, and yellow with frost-
smitten ferns. The still air echoed from the russet hills the call of the chore-

boy. The wains were rumbling home on the leafless country-roads. Stacks’ —

of corn-husks were rising here and there, after late hours’ husking; and now
and then a supper-horn was blown from the door of some red farmhouses
among the orchards, far and near.

Over the country-road, between the sunset and moonrise, John Ladd, a
farmer boy, was driving home a team of pumpkins and shocks of stalks.
These stalks were cut late in summer, and gathered into small bundles. The
bundles were themselves gathered into shocks, and these shocks were so tied
as to form a compact body about five or six feet high. A shock of stalks in
the evening. resembled the form of a woman, or the old-fashioned costume of
a lady in short waist and large hoops.

In bringing home the pumpkins from the fields of corn in which they
commonly grew, it was a custom to load a few shocks of stalks upon them,
and to cover the pumpkins with them in the barn cellar, or on the barn floor,
as a protection from the cold.

Johnny Ladd had learned a new tune, a very popular one at that time, and
he was one of those persons who are haunted by the musical ear, Everybody
_ Was singing this new tune. The tune was called, “ There’s a sound going forth



64 . ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

from the mulberry-trees,” and the words were very mysterious and sublime,
being taken, in part, from the inspirations of the old Hebrew poets.
Johnny made the old woods ring with the new tune, —

“What joyful sound is this I hear, ,
Fresh from the mulberry tops!”

‘A new tune turns the head of an impressionist, especially when associated
with such grand, poetic images as these; and while Johnny’s voice was being
echoed by old Greylock, the boy lost his sense of sublunary things, and one of
the bundles of stalks tumbled off of the load and landed in the middle of the
road without his notice, and stood there upright, looking like the form of a
woman at a little distance away in the dark. In slipping from the load the
shock had bent a few sheaves upward on one side; so it presented the appear-
ance of a woman with her arm raised as a gesture of warning.

The cart rumbled on with its singing young driver, leaving this ominous
figure in the middle of the road at, the very top of the hill.

Many of the old towns used to have a poor, homeless dog, — “ nobody’s

dog,” or dog vagrant, —a cur that farm-hands “ shooed,” boys stoned, women

avoided, and no one owned or cared to own. Cheshire had such a dog; he
used to steal bones from back-yards, and sleep under haystacks and shocks
of stalks, and run out of these with his tail curled under him when he heard
jany one approaching, This dog came trotting along the road, soon after the
'shock of stalks had been left behind, and thinking that the shock would be
a good cover for the night, crawled into it, curled up, and probably went to
sleep. -

The shock was left on smooth, shelving ground, and could slip about easily ;
and whenever the dog moved the shock moved, waving its eee: hand in a
very mysterious manner.

Now just beyond this animated effigy on the top of the hill, was a grave-
yard, and in it a year before had been buried an old woman who had been
found dead sitting in her chair. Her grave had been visited by a local poet,
who had written for her gravestone the following biographical epitaph: —

“ As I was sitting in my chair,
Busy about my worldly care,
In one brief‘ moment I fell dead,
And to this place J was conveyed.”

Such was the animated corn-shock, and the peculiar condition of affairs
on the top of the hill, when a party of philosophical jokers met to pass the
evening in the big travellers’ room of the “ Half-Way Inn.”



ARTHUR, 65

This inn was kept by Freelove Mason, a buxom hostess whose name was
familiar to every traveller between Boston and Albany in the pastoral days of
the old New England stage-coach. She was a famous cook, like Julien, of the
good-living Boston inn, whose name still lives in soups, and often heads the
appetizing list on menus.

The gray-coated old stage-drivers used to toot their horns on approaching
the elm-shaded valley of Cheshire, as a signal to Freelove to have the after-
noon dinner hot on the table when the coach should stop under the swinging
sign between’ the steeple-like trees.

What stages they were, with their heavy wheels and flexible leather gearing!
They were painted green and yellow, with sign letters in red, and the State of
Massachusetts coat-of-arms or other seal on the door. The middle seat was
supplied with a broad leather band for a back, which was unhooked while the
passengers of the back seat found their places. The driver’s seat was high and
grand, with a black leather boot under which were placed the mail-bags, and
a dog that had been well educated in the school of growls, and that was sure
to check any impertinent curiosity in the conscientious exercise of his office.
A tall whip cut the air above the seat, protruding out of a round pocket near
the one high step. A tally-ho horn found a place between the driver's legs;
and when it was lifted into the air, its blast caused the dogs to drop their tails,
and the hares to prick up their ears, and the partridges to whir away, and the
farm hands to take breath amid their work. .

It was an important hour in Cheshire when the grand Boston coach dashed
up between the two great Lombardy poplars, and stopped at the horse-block
in front of the Half-Way Inn. Dogs barked, children ran, and women’s faces
filled the windows among the morning-glory vines. At the open door stood
Freelove always, on these occasions, her face beaming, her cap border bobbing,
and her heart overflowing, and seeming to meet in every guest a long-lost sister
or brother. She knew how to runa hotel; and nothing but prosperity attended
her long and memorable administration.

On this notable evening of which I speak, the principal characters were
Judge Smart, Billy Brown — or “ Sweet Billy,” as he was called, an odd genius.
who was the “Sam Lawson” of the Berkshire Hills — Cameralsman, the stage-
driver, and Blingo, the blacksmith. I can see the very group’ now, as when a
boy. They were joined by Freelove herself, early in the evening, who brought
her knitting, and was eager to discuss the latest marvel of the newspaperless
times, and to add the wisdom of her moral reflections upon it. She prefaced
the remarks which she wished to make emphatically — and they were frequent
—with the word “Lordy,” almost profane in its suggestions, but not ill-inten-

5









66 | ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

tioned by her. It was a common exclamation of surprise in the old county
towns,

The short, red twilight had been followed by light gusts of night winds,
whirling leaves, passing like an unseen traveller, leaving silence behind.
Shutters creaked, and clouds flew hurriedly along the sky over the sparkling
courses of the stars.

The conversation of the evening turned on the old topic, — Were there ever
haunted places? Judge Smart and Blingo, the blacksmith, were of the opinion
that there were no trustworthy evidences of supernatural manifestations to
human eyes and ears, and it required great moral courage at this time to call
in question the traditional philosophy of the old Colony teachers and wonder

‘tales.

“There is no evidence whatever that there ever was a haunted place in this
country or anywhere else, and I do not believe that any one ever knew such a
place except in his imagination, not even Cotton Mather himself, or that any
one ever will.

««¢ With those who think that there are witches,
There the witches are;
With those who think there are no witches, -
Witches are not there.’”

So said Blingo, the blacksmith.

Freelove started, but only said, “Lordy!” in a deep contralto voice. Was
it possible that such heresy as this had been uttered in the great room of her
tavern? A tavern without a haunted room or some like mystery would be just
a tavern; no more to be respected than an ordinary! She let down her knit-
ting-work into her lap in a very deliberate way, and sat silent. Then she said
most vigorously to Blingo, the blacksmith, —

“So you have become of the opinion of the Judge and the stage-driver?
Look here, Blingo, I should think that you would be afraid to doubt such
things. I should. I should be afraid that something awful would follow me,
and whoop down vengeance on me, like an old-fashioned hurricane, —I should.
Mercy me, hear the wind howl! There it comes again. Lordy!”

The great sign creaked, and a loose shutter rattled, and a shutter banged. ©

“ Blingo, you may be an honest-meaning man, but don’t you invite evil upon
this house. IJ—”

“My good woman, don’t you worry. I just want to ask you one question:
If ghosts cry and shriek, as you say they do, they can also zalk, can’t they,
now? Say?”



ARTHUR. 67

“T suppose so.”

“Well; why don’t they do it then, and tell what they want, honest-like?
There, now!”

‘There came another rush of wind and leaves, and many rattling noises.
Freelove seemed to have an impression that she was called on to vindicate
the invisible world in some way so as to sustain the most friendly relations
to it.

Sweet Billy Brown, the Cheshire joker, came to her assistance in a very
startling and unexpected manner, after one or two more ominous bangs of a
shutter. How odd he looked; his face red with the fire, and his eyes full of
roguery! 3

“Freelove,” said he, with lifted eyebrows and wide mouth, — “ Freelove,
these are solemn times for poor, unthinking mortals to make such declara-
tions as these. Winds are blowin’, and winders are rattlin’, and shutters are
bangin’, and what not. Hist! Just you listen now.”

He gave me a curious wink, as much as to say, “ Now watch for a rare
joke.” ,

“Did you know that old woman, she what died last year, come November,
come the 12th, sitting in her chair, bolt upright—so?” Billy straightened up
like a statue. ‘“ Did you know what she answered? She answered some boys
what was a-whortelberryin’ in her graveyard! ”

“Answered?” said Freelove, with a bob of her cap-border. “ Answered?
Lordy! Did you say answered?”

“Mercy me! Yes, answered. ’Twas all mighty curious and mysterious
like. Them boys they just hollered right out there, up in that old, briery,
burying graveyard on the windy hill, ‘Old woman, old woman, what did you
die of?’ And the old woman answered — nothin’ at all.”

Billy gave me another peculiar look.

“Lordy! Did she? I always knew it was so. Nothing ailed her; she
had just got through.”

“But I have n’t; that isn’t all. I have somethin’ more to tell, — somethin’
to make your hair stand on end, as Shakspeare says.”

Freelove felt of her wig.

“One night in October,” continued Sweet Billy, “a certain young man
that I might name was passing that place with his girl, and he told the girl, as
they were passing, what answer the old woman had made to the whortelberryin’
boys in her graveyard. And she says, says she, ‘I dast to ask that question; ’
and she went up to the wall, she did, and says she, says she, mighty pert and
chipper-like, says she, ‘Old woman, old woman, what did you die of?’ and











68 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

just as true as I am sittin’ here, and the wind is blowin’, and the shutters are
bangin’, the old woman answered, just as she did before — nothin’ at all!”

Freelove’s cap gave another bob, and she said, “ L-o-r-d-y!” when Sweet
Billy continued : —

“And I, — yes, I ventured to ask her the same question one night when I
was passin’, and I, true as preachin’, got the same answer myself, — nothin’
at all. You may believe it or not, — there, now.”

Freelove sat like a pictured woman in a pictured chair.

“JT have always heard that that old graveyard was haunted,” said she at
last. “Now let us be perfectly honest and sincere with each other. You
three men say that there is no such thing as the appearance of spirits to living
people. That is so. If you, Judge Smart, and you, Cameralsman, and you,
Blingo, will go to-night up to the top. of that hill and say those identical words,
I will give you all a hot supper when you return. It is in the brick oven now.
People have seen strange things there for forty years. Here is a test for yous
There, now! You’ve all got ears and eyes. Will you go?”

“T will,” said the Judge. “I wouldn't think any more of doing a thing
like that than I would of going to the wood- pile and speaking to the chop-
ping-block.”

“Nor I,” said Cameralsman.

“Nor J,” said Blingo.

“Well, go,” said Freelove; “but promise me that if you should see any-
thing all in white, or if the old woman answers you as she did the others, you
will believe these ghost stories to be true.”

“ Yes,” said the Judge, the stage-driver, and the blacksmith, all in chorus.

There was a shout of laughter, and a swinging of arms and putting on of
overcoats ; and the three men banged the door behind them, and turned merrily
toward the hill road, thinking only of the hot supper they would have on their
return. A December supper out of an old brick oven in the prosperous days
‘of the Cheshire farmers was no common meal.

I followed them. I thought I saw the double sense of Sweet Billy’s words,
and I was full of wonder at his boldness. The old graveyard had borne a very
doubtful reputation for nearly a generation, but Billy’s joke furnished a new
horror to the place of dark imaginations.

It was a bright, gusty December night. The moon was rising like an even-
ing stin behind the great skeletons of oaks on the high hill. Now and then
came a gust of wind breaking the chestnut burrs, and dropping down showers
of chestnuts. The frosts were gathering and glimmering over the pastures.

Billy Brown was specially happy over his joke, and the play upon words













































































































































































































































































































































THE GHOST OF GREYLOCK.







































ARTHUR. WI

in the old woman’s supposed answer. He had told the story in such a realistic
. way and tone that no one had seen the point of it, which is at once obvious in
print. The Judge had a very strong feeling of self-sufficiency.

“T would not engage in this foolishness but for the supper,” said he.
“ «Three wise men of Gotham went to sea in a bowl!’”

“Nor I,” said Cameralsman. ‘I would hate to be quoted all over the
town as having made such scatter-brains of myself. The people would all be
laughing at me, and if there is anything that I can’t endure it is to be laughed
at. There are men who face battles that cannot stand a joke. I have seen
stormy weather on the old roads, but my legs would fly like drumsticks in a
cannonade, before the giggle of a girl. People are governed by their imagina-
tions, and that makes us all a strange lot of critters.”

After these sage remarks we stubbed along the moonlit road, the Judge
leading. Once he stopped and said, ‘‘ What fools we all are!” repeating Puck’s
view of the human species.

“That’s so,” said Cameralsman.

“You'll feel as full of wisdom as old King Solomon,” said Billy, the joker.
“Vou will, now, when you hear that answer comin’ up from the bowels of the
earth, without any head or tongue or body, or nothin’.”

The three men laughed.

A white rabbit ran across the road. We all stopped. White! Was it a
sign? Our imaginations began to be active, and to create strange pictures
and resemblances. . There followed the white streaks of the rabbit a gust of
wind, overturning beds of leaves. I was so excited that my forehead was wet
with perspiration.

“Cracky! There’s somethin’ strange somewhere. I can feel it in the air,”
said Billy. ‘“ My -+two eyes! What is that?”

We. all stopped. The moon was rising over the oaks and pines, and on
the top of the hill stood what looked to us all like the figure of a woman with
an arm raised, mysterious and silent, as in warning.

Under ordinary circumstances we would have seen there simply a shock of
stalks. But our imaginations were excited, and we were in doubt.

“It’s the old woman herself,” said Cameralsman.

“ Come out to meét us,” said the Judge, sarcastically.

“Cracky, if I don’t believe it is,” said Billy, with bending form and staring
eyes.

“Judge?”

“ What, Billy?”

“ That was a joke.”



72 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE. MISSISSIPPI.

“ What?”

‘Wot Isaid about the old woman, and that she would answer nothin’ at
all. But the graveyard zs haunted. I’ve heard so a hundred times.”

“Well, that figure is no joke, as you can see. But it is up there that we
shall have to go, and you too, Billy.”

“Oh, Judge, not now that I told you it was all a joke.”

“ But you must, Billy.”

“Why?”

“Do you want to be laughed at as a coward?”

There was a movement of the figure.

“Oh, Judge, look! I can see her hand move. Oh, heavings and earth! let
. us try a race back to the tavern.”

‘No, no; we must investigate. We’d lose our reputations if we did not.
A man must stand by his reputation whatever may come.”

‘‘ Judge, these are solemn times. Anybody is welcome to my reputation;
I’d part with it now if I only could get back to the tavern again,” said Billy.

The Judge pressed on. The rest followed unwillingly; Billy lagging behind
the others, but led on by force of example.

Our imaginations now made of the object a perfect old woman, with a
waving arm.

“Judge,” said Billy again.

“Come on, you coward!”

‘‘ She is warning us to turn back,” said Billy. “Don’t you see? Back it is.
Just look at the moon, Judge. Have n’t you any respect for the moon, nor for
warnin’s, nor for me, nor for nothin’? ‘ Back,’ she says, ‘ turn Jack,”

We were now in full view of the object, our nervous fears growing at every
step. We all stopped again.

““Cameralsman,” said the Judge, “you have muscle; iow a stone at her.”

Cameralsman picked up a stone and threw it with great force towards the
mysterious image. .

The effect was surprising. The figure began to bob up and down, and to
move down the hill, turning round and round, and waving its threatening arm.
We all stepped back; Billy crying, “The heavings have mercy on mortal
man!” All the nervous control we had left vanished. We were now mere
children of our fancies, victims of our fears.

The next event paralyzed us all. I can hear it now. A wild, piercing,
muffled cry, or shriek, rose from the figure, cutting the air and echoing every-
where a wild, long, piteous howl. It was repeated twice. Then the figure
turned round and round again, waving its long arm; then it seemed to bow



ARTHUR. 73

over, and, as it did so, a white form leaped into the air. A wild gust of wind
swept over the hill; the prostrate figure was borne into the gulch by the way-
side, and the white form was gone as though it had vanished. The road was
clear. The moon seemed like the head of a giant rising over the hill. We
were all dumb with fear. Even the Judge spread his legs apart in terror:

“It isn’t in mortal power to stand such a sight as that,” said he. “ The in-
visible world is after us. Run!”

We all approved his decision.

Run? We turned at the order, and I never saw nervous energy so applied
to the limbs of any human beings as it was then. - There came another gust of
wind that carried away the Judge’s hat. We did n't stop for it. Billy stumbled
once and fell headlong, and rose covered with blood. But he only said,
“ Heavings!” and bounded on again, his legs flying faster than before. In this
excited condition we returned to the inn, and tumbled one after another into
the door. Freelove met us there, all excitement, with her usual inconsiderate
exclamation. The Judge-was first to speak after the return,

“There are some things that make one wish for extraction or annihilation,”
said he; “and the invisible world has come down from the firmament to serra
Jirma.” This judicial announcement I have always thought a model of its kind.
“The wise men are confounded; I never really and truly believed in such
things before.” .

“IT would n’t stay in this neighborhood,” said Cameralsman, “ for all the
taverns in America. I never really believed that such things happen; now I
know. Tam sure.” .

“ Heaving forgive me!” said Blingo, the blacksmith, “I am a humbled man.
I have all the evidences of my senses. These things ave so,”

“Your supper is ready,” said Freelove, turning round and round, like a top.

“Supper?” said the Judge. “I don't feel as though I would ever eat any-
thing again.”

“Tf I only knew where there was any safe world to go to, I’d go there,”
said Billy. “TI declare I would. This is about the poorest world that I ever
got into, —it is, now. Ghosts a-swingin’ their arms, an’ whirlin’ roun’, an’
shriekin’, an’ callin’ up the moon an’ winds, an’ disappearin’ right before your
eyes into the bowels of the earth. Oh, my! Why, anybody who would doubt
what we saw would doubt anything. Heaving forgive me! This is my last
joke. I’ve got through.”

Freelove flew about, all excitement. We agreed, the Judge and all, that
here was a Supernatural event. How could we have dreamed of a dog in a
shock of stalks?

Here, at last, was a case of real ghost in old Greylock !





CHAPTER VI.

ARTHUR’S HOME MUSEUM AND ITS RELATION TO THE JOURNEY.

Arthur one evening, when he had suggested to
his son that it was a good plan to have a home
museum.

“The subject of home education,” said Mr.
Green, “is likely to receive much attention in
the future, as an essential outgrowth of the Chautauquan Circles;
and I think that the time will come when travel will become a part
of our educational system. Certain I am that families more and more
will seek to make a school in the home, with a library for the young,
with apparatus for scientific experiment, and a museum.”

; “A museum?” said Arthur. “How-would you collect a home
museum ?” ‘ .

“A home museum,” said Mr. Green, “may be made a playhouse
of useful study and experiment. Such museums have usually con-
sisted of minerals, coins, shells, stuffed birds and fishes, fossils, post-
age-stamps, and autographs. These are all interesting collections,
and follow the English methods of making a cabinet of curiosities ;
but in our country an enlargement of the plan may be appropriate,
with articles peculiar to our soil and history.”

“ How would you make the cabinet?” asked Arthur.

“ The case or cabinet of such a museum may be very simple and



inexpensive. It may consist merely of shelves and curtains, though
it would be better to have a case with glass doors, or boxes with glass

































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































=ALEAN=BARRAUB=











































A FLORIDA HERON.






ARTHUR’S HOME MUSEUM. a7

covers. A plaster bust of some representative man, a stuffed eagle
or owl,, buffalo horns, or some curious fossil may be used to orna-
ment the top of the cabinet, if a case instead of boxes be used.”

“And what would you put into a home museum like this?” asked
Arthur. . .

“Indian relics,” said Mr. Green. “The passing away of the In-
dian tribes makes the collection of Indian relics an interesting mat-
ter of history. These relics are to be found in all parts of our
country. Arrow-heads and wampum are almost everywhere to be
found embedded in the soil. Indian axes and flints, and mills where
corn was ground by being beaten with a pestle or rolled under a_
pestle, are common curiosities; and pottery is exhumed in many places
in the Southwest.

“Indian beads and pipes are common to all parts of the country.

“Tn order to make interesting such relics as these, they should
be associated with traditions and local wonder-tales, and their asso-
ciations explained. Nearly every town in America has its Indian
stories, and the collection of the romances of primitive life is a most
poetic and picturesque study. .

“An artist friend of mine visited the old Indian Reservation at
Lakeville, Massachusetts, painted a portrait of one of the Wampanoag
tribe, and made sketches of the ancient Indian burying-ground, and
other scenes of traditions about the lake. He was impelled only by
the motive to preserve the historical associations of the few descen-
dants of Massasoit and King Philip.

“Let me map out a plan: —

Feirlooms.

“In the thirteen original States of the Union are many fine oak
houses, with great chimneys and fireplaces, broad halls with facing
doors, winding stairs, and cavernous garrets. In these garrets are
often stored away the old cradles, sticks, clocks, settles, looms, wheels,



78 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

fire-dogs, guns, pictures, samplers, warming-pans, and other antique
articles of former generations. .

“Many families in New England have sold such relics for old

brass, iron, or rags; the planters of Virginia and the Carolinas have,
as a rule, entertained a larger sentiment otf respect for such things,
as have the families of Pennsylvania.
. . “It is an easy matter to change a garret, which still contains such
relics as have been mentioned, into an antiquated museum, and to
associate many articles with heroic, romantic, amusing, or pathetic
traditions of the family,— our garret, for example.

“You have visited the antique rooms of the Colonial house of
Major Ben: Perley Poore. The Major's rambling chambers and
attics are full of articles associated with stories, and he learned to
relate these traditions in a very vivid way. In his home old New
England lived again, as the days of Washington still live in the upper
rooms at Mount Vernon. .

Shells.

“ The collection of shells, by the sea and on the land, is one of
the simplest ways of training the eye to see beauty in common
things. When a collection of shells has been made, sea-ferns and
plants and flowers become wonderfully interesting to the museum-
"maker.

“The salt-water shells, fresh-water shells, and land shells may be
so arranged as to present many curious points of comparison; and
the beginner may well open his museum with these. The. simple
study will be likely to lead him on into the wide field of fossils and
zoology.

Farm Collections.

“ Taxidermy requires training and skill beyond the ability of begin-
ners in museum-making; and coin-collecting, to be representative,
demands a considerable outlay in money. But each farmer’s boy















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































CURIOSITIES OF THE SEA,







ARTHUR'S HOME MUSEUM. SI
could make a museum of the curiosities to be found on his own home
place. Thoreau says :—

“ Tf with fancy unfurled
You leave your abode,
You may go round the world
By the old Marlboro’ road.”

“The great number of curiosities that may be gathered from a
single farmstead will greatly surprise a visitor, who will not be un-
likely to regard the locality as one of the most curious in the country.

“* Some persons,’ said wise Dr. Johnson, ‘ will see more things in
asingle ride in a Hempstead stage-coach than others will see in a
tour of the world.’

“The number of flowers that could be collected on a one-hundred-
acre farm would in most parts of the country be a revelation to any
but a practical botanist. A book of these pressed flowers is a treasure
for the farm-museum. So also with the different kinds of woods that
may be collected on a farm; and again, feathers.

“The minerals that may be collected on a single farm are usually
numerous. It might be well for a school or a boys’ club to offer
premiums for the largest collections of pressed flowers and of minerals
to be found on any one farm ina township. The search would be-
come a study; the study a taste and habit, and the habit develop a
studious character.

Humorous Collections.

“Among the curiosities in the Philadelphia mint is a ‘coin made
in Philadelphia two thousand years ago.’ This pleasant use of an.
Asian name leads more people to examine this coin than the thousands
of others in the wonderful cabinets. It is often annoying to a serious
collector to see his friends turn away from curiosities of worth, to talk
over what is mereiy quaint and humorous.

“ Any young collector can have many oddities. Old toys, pictures,
6







82 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

riddles, sports and games, masks; curious growths of parts of trees,
and animal-shaped roots may claim his attention. He must not have
"a dull museum.”

Arthur searched the garret, fields, and farms, and constructed such
a museum; but when it was so nearly completed as to become inter-
esting, his ambition suddenly changed into plans for making collec-
tions on a larger plan. He had been to Cambridge, Mass., and seen
the collection of antique pottery from ancient mounds, in the Peabody
Museum; and it was his wish to visit the Smithsonian Institute in
Washington, and see the relics of the Cliff Dwellers. The plan of a
journey to the Mississippi Valley, Mexico, and the Islands of the Dis-
covery seemed to open to him a fine opportunity to collect interesting
material for a large home museum.

“TI hope that we shall go by the way of Washington,” he said one
day to his father. .

“ Why?” asked Mr. Green.

“So that I may see the Museum of the Smithsonian Institute,”

said Arthur.

“We can take that route,” said his father. “The usual way to
Chicago is by Albany and Detroit. It would bea good plan to go by
the way of Washington, and so start on our educational journey from
the Columbus doors of the Capitol.”

“T see,” said Arthur, “how I can enlarge my museum, and make it
like a picture book of history. We are really going over the scenes of
Early America, I want a museum that will mean something and
teach something, and I now shall have the opportunity to collect such a
one. I am glad, father, you taught me how to form the little home
museum. ‘I now can make it evolve and grow, and I have caught the
spirit of seeking things that recall the events of the past; and the more
I love the study of history, the greater is my wish to illustrate it in
the museum.”

“One step,” repeated Mr. Green, “is all the way.”



CHAPTER VII.
THE SPANISH CLASS. — LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS.

ay the evenings of their lessons the Spanish Class gave
an hour to the language, and an hour to social
entertainments. The entertainment followed the
lesson, and to this guests were invited. The enter-
tainment consisted for the most part of reading,
tableaux,and music. The topics were often Spanish
and historical, but sometimes miscellaneous and humorous; and on
several occasions Mrs. Green entertained the class and guests by re-
lating folk-lore stories and amusing tales of social life. Mrs. Green's
stories had so much that was suggestive in them that they were always
received with delight, and it came to be the usual question with the
class, after the lesson and entertainment, —

“Now, Mrs. Green, will you not give us something ely 7”

Arthur often gave the class something “lively,” in the form of
questions which tested their progress. He once said to Mr. Green,
the teacher: “I have been thinking that if I knew only one question
in Spanish, I could travel with that through all Spanish countries.”

“ What is that question?”

“ This, —‘ What do you call chat?’ How do you ask that ques-
tion in Spanish ?”

“ Cémo se llama eso?”! and the answer would be, “ Eso se Ilama—”

“I should only have to be able to ask that question to learn
everything.”



1 Co'moh say lyah’mah ay’soh.



84 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

He often asked different members of the class that question, which
he thought would prove a key to the language in travelling, but almost
invariably received the answer, “No sé” or “ No comprendo, Seftor.”

The class had an evening of Spanish historical tableaux, which
were acted history. The history and literature of Spain. and Spanish
countries offer delightful opportunities for tableaux.

The coming year, which celebrates the American discovery, invites
a revival of Spanish historical tableaux and music.

The stringed instruments of the Latin races and the South are
growing in popular favor, as the romances of- the Great Discovery
again become active in the student’s experience. Among the scenes
that may be effectively presented in tableaux with the music of the
cavalier and dolero, we may suggest Columbus as a boy on the quay of
Genoa, after the manner of the exquisite statuette in the Boston Art
Museum, a picture of which many of our readers may have seen ;
Columbus at the gate of La Rabida; Columbus’s first sight of
Isabella ; Columbus listening to the music of land birds, which music
may be imitated; the Ze Deum of Columbus at San Salvador, which
music may be sung by an unseen chorus; Columbus’s first interview
with Indians; his second meeting with Isabella; his narration to the
Spanish sovereigns on the field of Sante Fé; the Viceroy in chains,
and his death. ‘

On the field of Sante Fé at Barcelona the chapel choir of Isabella
sang a Ze Deum when Columbus had finished the narrative of the
Discovery. Columbus appeared in rich court dress on this occasion,
and was attended by Indians with plumes, jewels, and tropic birds.
This scene would make a rich historical tableau for music. Any one
of the old Te Deums might not inappropriately be chanted.

Mr. Diaz had travelled in Spain and in Spanish-American coun-
tries. He was a lover of poetry, and often wrote verse. He gave
several talks at the entertainments on Spanish music, and on curious
scenes that the class would see in the Columbian seas.

Mr. Green suggested the courses of entertaining reading for the



LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 85

class. He once gave the class an essay on the subject of such read-
ings ; and as our young friends often are found asking for such advice,
we give a part of this paper here. We hope that other Spanish
classes may be formed on the plan in this narrative, and so we present
a view of all the methods of the development which this social club
employed.

Tennyson says that we are “a part of all that we have met.”
Books to-day are the models and builders of life. Good readings form
as a rule a standard from which there comes no relapse in taste, except
from loss of personal character. The memories of evenings that have
helped life are long inspirations to young people; harvests that ripen
to the end, and shed their good seeds for other soils. The thoughts
of youth, Longfellow says, are “long, long thoughts;” and Robert
Southey thus speaks of his beautiful experience in the companionship

of good books, —
“ With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe,
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedewed
With tears of heartfelt gratitiide.”

Ballads of Genius.

Classical ballads and sympathetic narrative poems are popular
features of reading-clubs, and should have a place in home readings.
I make a selection of a few ballads that are favorites in the elocution-
ary schools and reading-circles of Boston : —

1. Coleridge’s “ Ancient Mariner.”

2. Rossetti’s “ Sister Helen,” with Delsarte dramatic action.

3. Poe’s “ Raven,” ex tableau.

4. Mrs. Craik’s “ Douglas,” with music accompaniment.

5. Longfellow’s “ Old Clock on the Stairs,” with voice imitation of
the pendulum.

6. Tennyson’s “ Bugle Song.”



86 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI

Six Wonderful Short Stories. ‘

“ What are six short stories that bear the stamp of genius or that
are representative?” may be asked by the director of a reading-club.
I once met with the following selection as classics with which all
should be familiar as a matter of literary intelligence : —

1. Irving’s “ Rip Van Winkle.”

Baron Fouqué’s “ Undine.”

Poe’s “ Gold Bug.”

Dickens’s “ Christmas Carol.”

Mrs. Spofford’s “ Amber Gods.”

_ Edward Everett Hale’s “ Man without a Country.”

ww

Ow ee “OS
1

Readings in Biography.

Biographical reading is one of the strongest influences in the
education of character. Innumerable lives have found inspirations
for good or sympathetic direction by reading of biography. Young
people often find, as it were, themselves in biography, or a character of
like tendencies, views, and purposes; and such a character becomes a
model for the new sculptor of the marble of life.

Courses of biographical readings in a family may be arranged by
selections of the most impressive chapters from classic and popular
biography. I suggest six evening readings.

1. The Early Life of Horace. Little Classics.

2. Selections from Plutarch’s Lives.

3. The chapters in Boswell’s “ Life of Dr. Johnson ” that relate to
«“ Oliver Goldsmith ” and “ The Vicar of Wakefield.”

4. Selections from Southey’s “ Life of Nelson.”

5. Selection from “ Life of Bishop Patterson,” by Charlotte Mary
Yonge.

6. Selections from the “ Life of Miss Alcott.”

Lockhart’s “Life of Scott” opens a good study to the works of

4



LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 87

Scott ; and Samuel Smiles’s “ Industrial Biography” is full of force and
noteworthy directions.

As a rule, an adult reading-club in the home should read the
best selections first. I was recently asked to select six master-
pieces of the best literature with which intelligent young minds should
be familiar, for six readings in the adult home circle. I chose the
following :—

1. Plato’s “ Death of Socrates,” and the « Argument for Immor-
tality.” In contrast with this read the “ Discourse at the Last Supper,”
as recorded by Saint John.

2. Virgil’s “ Pollio,” translation. In connection with this read
Isaiah xi. and Ix.; Horace’s “De Arte Poetica.”

"3. “ Midsummer Night's Dream,” Shakspeare. In connection,
Mendelssohn’s music to the “ Midsummer Night’s Dream,” or at least
the “ Wedding March.”

4. Carlyle’s “Sartor Resartus.” Abridge this work; introduce
it by the story of its composition, and assign the most vivid and
remarkable chapters to sympathetic readers.

5. Browning’s “ Paracelsus.”

6. Lowell’s “ Vision of Sir Launfal.”

It may be thought that these selections as a whole rise above the
popular taste and appreciation; but they represent a part of the
highest spiritual teaching and the best intellectual and literary
achievements. The Discourse of Socrates before drinking the hem-
lock, and the “ Pollio” (IV. Eclogue) may look uninteresting on a
list of topics, but an intense interest is awakened when the study of
them begins. They open wide doors of history, and stimulate the
best thought, and fix a standard and leave an impression of literary
character.

Carlyle’s “ French Revolution,” which is a moral analysis of thrill-
ing and dramatic events, Macaulay's “Essays,” and Thackeray’s
“Henry Esmond” are excellent selections for a course of home
readings. They are character education.



88 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Where a selection for an evening’s readings may seem heavy to
young minds unused to stimulating thoughts, let the exercise be
followed by music, or light character recitations. Discussion of the
topic is far better, if a lively interest be awakened in the readings.
But recreation is desirable after sustained mental effort, and the
recreative arts should have their full share in household experiences.

In most reading-clubs music should be introduced. This may be
made educational. The historic ballad is a picture of the past; and this
kind of ballad, which is so much esteemed in other countries, needs to
become a part of the educational influences of our own homes. His-
torical ballad concerts are becoming a popular feature of New York
life, as they are of the social life of all European cities. Our country,
which is patriotic in its literature, should be more patriotic in its music.

I select six patriotic ballads that voice American life, and that are
well adapted to the reading-circle : —

. The Vacant Chair.

. Keller’s American Hymn.

. Ben Bolt.

. My Old Kentucky Home.

. The Sword of Bunker Hill.
. The Bridge.

~

nm BW bd

Mr. Green suggested much reading in preparation for the planned
journey. Among the popular books were “Wau-ban,” or “Early
Days in the Northwest,” by Mrs. John Kinzie ; and “ Cuba with Pen
and Pencil,” by Hazard.

At these entertainments the interpolated stories by Mrs. Green
were favorites, and afforded a relief to the more formal exercises.
They had a certain humor about them which the young people found
in their afterthought was employed to teach them the lessons of right
conduct in life.

One of the stories which she was asked to repeat touched several



LITERARY AND. HUMOROUS. ENTERTAINMENTS. 89

points of social life.in which there is need of correction. Arthur liked
it, —it “hit off” the girls, he said, —and we give it here, and leave
the reader to see how it applied to the ambitious little society.

MRS. PARRISH’S SURPRISE-PARTY1

‘‘ Now I will tell you just how it will be,” said Mrs. Parrish to her cousin
Miss Flora Parrish, confidentially. “Are we alone in the room? Just let
me shut the door, for I would not allow so much as a breath of the secret
to escape.

“Well, husband and I have been married twenty-five years to-day, but our
wedding was celebrated two weeks after our marriage, on Christmas night.
My plan is to have a silver-wedding surprise-party next Christmas night.”

“Yes; I see, but not very clearly. How would it bea surprise-party, if
you arranged it yourself ?”

“It is to be a surprise-party to husband, and not to myself. I want
you to help me on the occasion, and so to manage to receive the guests that
he will not know of their coming until he enters the parlors. He usually goes
to his room in the third story after ten, to read and smoke. The cards of
invitation shall read, ‘Do not ring.’ After the guests have arrived, which
must be before eight o’clock, as stated in the printed invitations, I will say to
husband: ‘Henry dear, do you remember that to-night is the twenty-fifth
anniversary of our wedding-party? Would you not like to go down into the
parlor with me, and have me sing to you some of the old songs that you
loved to hear in those days when we were so hopeful and happy?’ He
of course will be ready to go,—he has no musical taste or culture, but he has
a kind of passion for old songs like Moore’s. :

“The parlors shall be quite dark, and I will take down the dark lamp-
lighter with me, and as we enter the room I will say, handing him the lamp-
lighter: ‘Here, light the chandelier, dear. I wish I had invited a few old
friends to meet us here to-night, —the Van Burens, the Hudsons, the Dexters,
and the Pinks.’ Then he will light the chandelier, and they w¢/ all be there.

“What a surprise it will be! Do you see? I am going to ask Miss
Willemine Pink to play, and her elder sister, Miss Marian, to read an original
poem. Do you see?

“Don’t you think the planexcellent? My plans always succeed, as you
know, and end 90 happily. I think I was born to make other people happy:
some folks are sent into the world just for that: ’tis my mission.”

1 By permission of Harper Brothers.



gO ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“Ves; but—”

“ But what? Why hesitate to give your full approval? why qualify? ”

“Mr. Parrish is not a very warm friend of some of the people whom you
propose to invite; certainly not of the Pinks. I fear Miss Willemine’s playing
and Miss Marian’s poem would hardly be to his taste, and a wedding anniver-
sary should be a very happy occasion every way, — harmonious not only with
the event, but with the personal feelings of both the wife and husband. You
remember the musical?”

Mrs. Parrish was silent a moment, and lay back in her chair. She did
recall the musical: it was fe terrible recollection of her married life, and the
great public humiliation of her long and reputedly brilliant social career,

Not that she had not experienced keen regret at times at her good
husband’s lack of the highest appreciation of literature and art. At her
Browning party, for example, when an ancient literary friend of once conspic-
uous and worthy Mrs. Sigourney had asked him, not knowing what else to say,
if he “liked Browning,” he had answered, “Yes, what I can understand.”
And when the same ancient lady of such commendable literary traditions had
put her ear-trumpet to the side of her cap, curls, and ear-ring, and had further
asked, “What poems of his do you best understand?” he had answered,
“©The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ and—” The whole brilliant literary company
were listening with intense interest. There was an embarrassing silence. Mr.
Parrish again gasped. “And —”

And all the rest of them, he means,” added Mrs. Parrish. “He appreciates
the beautiful, and a// that is beautiful, of course.”

Mr. Parrish’s usually pale face took on a youthful tinge, and he played
with the spoons, and seemed about to fan himself with a dinner-plate.

After the party Mrs. Parrish was reproachful. “ Think,” she said, before
retiring, to humiliated Mr. Parrish, ‘what a confession you made —‘“ The
Pied Piper of Hamelin” and—’ Suppose I had not been present, Mr.
Parrish?”

The musical, — ¢hat, as I have intimated, was a more serious affair. Mr.
Parrish on that occasion had not only shown a lack of the highest love for
the fine arts, but had made an exhibition of a want of self-control that
was unworthy of such a gentleman.

The social life of Mrs. Parrish had been an evolution. It began at a
church fair, where she had assumed the part of “ Rebekah at the Well,” in the
interest of benevolence, and in the same interest had sold lemonade in Oriental
adornments at ten cents a glass, out of a very unscriptural well. In “ Mrs.
Jarley” she proved a great success financially. This led her to a more ambitious



LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. gI

effort, —a coffee-party for the “benefit of the common people” (her own.

people had lived on a milk-farm in New Hampshire, and were contented and
happy in the pastoral pursuits of such a life). After a visit to Florida she
gave an orange-party, which was really unique and useful as well as popular.
Her rooms on this occasion were festooned with orange colors, mingled with
Spanish moss and mistletoe, which she had ordered from a plantation on the
St. John’s. The guests were dressed in orange, the table was set in cloths and
furnishings of the same color, and on the great orange cake was the bough of
an orange-tree, on which were stuffed Baltimore birds. Oranges of all kinds
covered the tables; grape-fruit, mandarin and navel oranges, tangerines, mus-
catines, and all the more common varieties of the usual Florida grove.

The popularity of this party was not owing wholly to its uniqueness. A
barrel or more of choice oranges were left after the feast; and these were sent
in baskets to the sick of the place, to the aged, and the children. For the
sake of originality, a negro with a banjo was brought in to sing and play at
the tables the songs of the cotton-fields ; and Mr. Parrish, to use his wife’s not
over-complimentary words, “really acted as though he enjoyed it more than a
nocturne by Chopin or a fugue by Bach.”

Successful as the leading lady in church theatricals, Mrs. Parrish began to
hold receptions, musicals, and Browning readings in her rather elegant parlors.
She grew ambitious to make her receptions particularly notable by the presence
of people of genius. Young poets, and musicians, and visitors from abroad who
boasted the blood of titled families, were especially welcome. A poem ina
newspaper or the publication of a song made the author a child of the
immortal gods in the appreciative eyes of Mrs. Parrish. On finding a spirit so
touched with the divine fire, her cards of invitation would read, “ To meet
John Johnson, the new poet,” or “Jacques Jackson, the new composer,” or
“Mr. Garland, cousin of the Earl of Flowers.”

The cousins of the earls had given some trouble to Mrs. Parrish on account
of their old royal want of ready money; and her loans for board bills, that they
might honor her receptions, had never, in three distinct cases, been repaid.

Her trouble came, however, more from Mr. Parrish than from a sense of her
own loss. His reprovals were very mild, but uncomfortable. *‘ My old gray
goose keeps a kind of flying-school,” he once said in her hearing. And again,
“Arline does not. seem to know that time always speaks the truth about every-
body and everything; she thinks that a cat in a fog is as big asa tiger.” But
after some such philosophical lesson he paid all Mrs. Parrish’s benevolent bills,
and was rewarded by the charitable aside, “My husband does not understand
these things, you know.” ~







92 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI. -

The humiliating musical,— it happened in this wise. Mrs. Parrish had
invited the pupils of the Laurel Hill Seminary to enjoy an evening’s hospitality,
and they had accepted. In the midst of the festivity Mr. Parrish had returned
from the store, tired and nervous. He stopped in the hall, and glanced in
upon the scene of pink cheeks and blazing astrals. ,

“ Husband, you must come in: I am sure you will be so happy to meet
these delightful young people. We shall have some music soon.”

Mr. Parrish thought of valses by Moszkouski, of scherzos and scherzettos,
of a fearful bang at each end of the piano, and runs up and down the keys,
“after Scatterbrains.” It had all become a horror to him, expressive of no
sentiment whatever,—a mere mechanical display that was a torture to his
untrained ears.

“ Do join us, dear,” urged Mrs. Parrish. ‘“ Miss Lacombe is going to favor
us with an estudiantino.”

Just what ¢hat could be, poor Mr. Parrish failed to comprehend; but it
sounded musical in name, and with some misgivings he joined the happy
company of young musical divinities.

The piano was at last opened, and a hush fell on the flower-perfumed room.
_ The bright colors of silk and jewels ceased to mingle; and Mrs. Parrish, in
black velvet and diamonds, and with the air of an old society duchess, said,
“ Now shall we have some music?”

There was a dead silence.

“Perhaps Miss Lacombe will now favor us with an estudiantino?”

““T would be pleased to give you some Spanish music, but I never play
without my. notes.” , .

“Did you not bring your notes with you? I hoped you would. Give us
‘a gavotte or capriccio, Ss sonetine light, as an introduction.”

“T assure you that I would be glad to do so, my dear Mrs. Parrish, but I
never play without my notes.”

“Mr. Carmen, I am sure you will favor us— perhaps with one of your
great Wagnerian réles.”

Mr. Carmen bowed (low vest, roses, hair @ Za Pompadour), ‘“T assure you,
Mrs. Parrish, that it would give me great pleasure to sing, if some one would
play my accompaniments.” ,

But no one was found to play an accompaniment to a “ great Wagnerian
role” without notes, and poor Mrs. Parrish could find no music of any “ great
Wagnerian réle” for a male voice; and so Mr. Carmen had to be excused,
having made for himself a great reputation by what happy circumstances had
forbidden him to attempt, like Mr. Parrish’s simile of the “ cat in the fog.”



LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 93

“T am sure that Miss Emory will now sing Gounod’s always enchanting
song, ‘Sing, smile, slumber.’ ”

To the relief of all, Miss Emory said: “I will do the best that I can to
serve you. English words or French?”

“ Oh, French,” said Mrs. Parrish. “I have the French words here;” and
she laid the sheet music on the piano. :

Even unmusical Mr. Parrish liked that song. ‘ There is real poetry in it,”
he said. He was now glad that he had been allured into the flying-school.

There was a light silvery ripple along the keys, charming the ear at once,
bringing the mind into perfect harmony with the airy serenade, and then there
came a pause.

“T have never sung it in this key,” was the awful explanation. ‘“ I would
have to transpose it.”

“Oh, please do so! ” said Mrs. Parrish.

“Ves, do,” said Mr. Parrish. ‘ Transpose it any way, but sing it. That is
one of my favorites.”

There followed a strange mingling of the keys, a disagreeable thump,’
thump, thumping, here, there, and yonder. It became as interesting as a five-
year-old pupil’s first music-lesson. Mr. Parrish moved about impatiently, and
at last asked, —

“Cannot some of you play that accompaniment? What is a musical
education for?”

All could play that accompaniment, but no one could play a transposition
of it, or was willing to attempt it at sight; and so the Gounod serenade seemed
about to fail.

Mr. Parrish’s face began to wear a business-like look. “Cannot some one
sing ‘Sweet Geneviéve’?” he asked.

“ A simple American ballad,” added Mrs. Parrish. She asked three under-
graduates, but each one had a “ cold,” and ‘ ought not to have been out.”

“Well, I declare, this is too bad,” said Mr. Parrish. “ Wife, where ’s our
French table-girl, Arletta? Send for Arletta!” and Mr. Parrish seized the
silver handle of a bell-knob over the shelf, and a sharp ringing was heard in and
from the kitchen below.

A servant appeared.

“Send up Arletta.”

Arletta appeared; bright, pezzte, all smiles.

~“ Well, Monsieur.”

“Have you your notes?” .

“Yes, Monsieur.”



94 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIP PL

“Where?”

“ Here, Monsieur,” pointing to her white little throat.

“Can you play an accompaniment? 7

“ Oui, Monsieur.”

“In what key?”

“ Any key, — make them up.”

“How?”

“ Out of my head.”

“A skylark has indeed come to the flying-school. Can you sing that song
of Gounod, — that serenade, ‘ Chanté, chanté’ — that one?”

“Ves.”

“Have you a cold?”

“ No.”

“ Well, sing.”

Arletta sat down at the piano, and after a most graceful and rippling
introduction sang the serenade in pure French, with a delicacy and vivacity
that would have charmed the ear of any popular audience.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Parrish. “Now 1 think I will be excused;” and
without so much as saying good-by to any one, he retired to his room.

“My husband is so peculiar!” said Mrs. Parrish. ‘I hope that you will
excuse him.”

The musical came to an end at an early hour, and never was called
together again. But it came to be a matter of common report that Mrs. Parrish
had given a musical, and that Mr. Parrish had called in the table-girl to sing
and play. The table-girl and Mr. Parrish were the only people present that
seemed to be quite satisfied with the evening’s performance. The matter
became a part of the witty gossip of the society papers, and so a temporary
eclipse came over Mrs. Parrish’s social sun.

The plans for the Christmas night surprise-party on the practical Mr.
Parrish grew. Miss Pink the elder began her poem for the occasion; and as
the greatness of the event, with its boundary of twenty-five years, grew upon
her, the poem also grew. She slipped over to Mrs. Parrish’s private room on
several.mornings, when she was sure that Mr. Parrish would be at the store, to
inform the delighted lady of the growth of the poem under the enlightenments
of successive inspirations. The poem had a solemn title for a festival, ‘‘ The
Flight of Time.” It recalled to Mrs. Parrish the muses of good Robert Pollock
and Dr. Young.

“What do you think of the introduction?” asked Miss Pink, on her first
stolen visit.



LITERARY AND IUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 95

“Whene’er I lift my eyes from things that are,
And fix them on things that are not,
Then the things that are not are
The things that are.”

“As mysterious as it is majestic,” answered Mrs. Parrish,

“ Then follows an apostrophe to Chronos,” said Miss Pink; “and then an
apostrophe to Eros,”

“A grand conception; but— ”

“A suggestion? ”

“T’m afraid husband, you know, don’t know, you know, or might not
know, Chronos from Eros. His mind is peculiar; it can only reach so high,
or go so far, — does not rise above the old English poets in poetry, or above the
‘Messiah’ or ‘Stabat Mater’ or ‘Trovatore’ in music, Some minds cannot.
They can master simple arithmetic, but are lost in the Rule of Three.”

It was arranged that the younger Miss Pink should play the “ Wedding
March” from “ Lohengrin” as soon as Mr. Parrish should light the chandelier on
the anniversary night, and at the first touch of the music the whole company
should exclaim, “A merry silver wedding!” three times. Congratulations
were to follow, during which Miss Pink was to play the “ Swedish Wedding
March,” and the musical programme was to end with Mendelssohn’s « Wedding
March.” After the congratulations Mr. Elvi Sylver was to present Mr. Parrish
with a silver coin from Mrs. Parrish (paid for out of the aforesaid Mr. Parrish’s
Own accounts). Then Miss Pink the elder was to read the address to Chronos
and Eros, and recall the Vicissitudes of twenty-five married years.

“T can hardly sleep for thinking of it,” said Mrs. Parrish to the Misses
Pink. “TI never dreamed in my simple girlhood that I would ever become a

wrought.”

Mrs. Parrish had influenced local politics, and she felt that the aristocratic
suburb owed much to her influence in public affairs, as well as in the develop-
ment of the fine arts. When it was proposed by the Van Burens to make
“Lissory,” as the suburb where these important people lived was called, a very
select community, from which the “common people” should be excluded by
selling no land at less than five thousand dollars per lot, she had favored the
scheme, even against the views and Principles of her very democratic husband.
Mr. Parrish was very liberal in his political views, and had once shocked the



96 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

king had ever had, and that it was only personal worth that made any crown
really royal. The Hudsons, Dexters, and Pinks — families who had grown rich
by impoverishing other people by sharp speculations — had joined the Van
Burens in creating a suburb that was to exclude the common people for the
sake of living “in accordance with the higher social standards.” Mr. Parrish
was an honest man, and had become prosperous by the profits of an honest
business. He had yielded much to. his wife’s influence in the selection of a
home, but he had never thoroughly liked his pretentious neighbors, and he
especially disliked the Van Burens, the Hudsons, the Dexters, and the Pinks, —
people whom Mrs. Parrish was particularly desirous that he should regard as
his confidential friends.

The short dark days of December moved on in a hurrying procession
toward the gladness of the holidays. The last robins sought the covers of the
frosty woods, and the snow-birds came to the door-yard trees with their single
note. The evening lamps were early lighted under a steel gray sky. The
gentians died, the red berries lined the wayside walls, children gathered
creeping-jenny, and the markets began to grow green with the usual decorations
for the church and fireside.

“T shall decorate my parlors this year with silver,” said Mrs. Parrish to her
housekeeper. “I have a particular reason for it. I am going to buy new
curtains with silver thread, the lamp-shades must be of silver paper, the silver
ornaments must take the place of the marble ones, and the silver vases must be
got ready for white roses. When the lamps are lighted, the rooms must
glimmer, —do you see?”

The well-trained housekeeper saw. She was used to these things. She
had prepared the house for a pink tea, a crazy reception, and the famous
orange-party; and her fancy’s eye saw just the effect that her mistress wished to
produce. So the rooms were prepared to glimmer like silver waves when the
lamps should be lighted on the evenings of the holidays.

The good housekeeper added some novel effects of her own invention.
She “set” the evergreen decorations in a solution of alum and water, and thus
tipped them with silvery crystals. When the good woman’s work of decoration
was complete, and the rooms were lighted as an experiment, they looked, as
Mrs. Parrish enthusiastically expressed it, like “ the palace halls of the moon.”

“T always had a genius for such things,” she said. “ Some people do. It
is not every one that writes poetry with the pen; many do it by creating
expressions. Those rooms are apoem. They express sentiment. Everything
beautiful that expresses sentiment isa poem. Cleopatra’s barge was a poem,

Marie Antoinette’s Trianon, and all the masks of Madame de Pompadour ;
and J am a poet.”.



LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 97

Silver cake was made in abundance, and a set of silver goblets was hired.
Miss Pink added to her poem some stanzas on the “ silver tide of life.’ Then
a new idea took possession of Mrs. Parrish’s poetic mind.

‘The good lady had done one really unique and useful thing in her social
career besides the famous orange-party. It took the form of “ Readings with
Musical Accompaniments.” The village organist was famous for improvising
in musical moods, and he had been at Mrs. Parrish’s service in these very
charming entertainments. Mrs. Parrish had once heard Bellew’s musical read-
ings, and she came away from the gifted young Englishman’s performances
with a discovery which she thought would make even a series of parlor readings
interesting to young people. So sheand the organist arranged “ Twelfth Night”
for an experiment, assigning the parts to certain young students of the Music
School, and helping them to appear in costume. The organist was a genius,
and well: instructed in the old English music and their recent collections ; and
“Twelfth Night” proving a great success, it was followed by reading all of the
plays of Shakspeare which offer a field for music.

She would have Miss Pink’s poem read to music, — sz/very music. True,
she had not been able to quite comprehend the introductory lines, which made
the “things are not” appear the “things that are ;” yet they vaguely recalled
to her the fact that memory is the “ resurrection of the lost years,” as she ex-
pressed her understanding of the very obscure passage to Miss Pink herself.

The snow fell one long dark night. The sleigh-bells jingled in the morning.
‘The trees were a harvest of icicles. People hurried in the street. The stores
were lighted by four o’clock. The stars had a cold look. The sleigh-bills
jingled everywhere, and Christmas came.

Mrs. Parrish’s invitations had multiplied. All was ready, even to the dark
lamp-lighter and the muffler for the door-bell.

The Christmas dinner was unusually quiet, which fact did not seem to have
any depressing effect on the usually philosophical Mr. Parrish.

After a good dinner the quiet gentleman went to his own ‘room “ upstairs,”
as he was always glad to do. He was secretly thankful that there were no
guests in the house, and that he could get a few hours in his dressing-gown, -
with his magazines and reviews, by the open fire.

“ Now I am going to read and take a nap. I’m tired.”

This was said to Mrs. Parrish on leaving the table, and was intended as a
gentle reminder that he did not wish to be disturbed.

Two or more blissful hours passed. Then just as he was deep in an article
on “ The Future of English-speaking Nations,” there came a nervous tap on the

door.
7



Full Text

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ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI


THE ZIGZAG SERIES.

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.



ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [IN EUROPE.

ZIGZAG FJOURNEYS IN CLASSIC LANDS. ‘

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [N THE ORIENT. .

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE OCCIDENT.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS [N NORTHERN LANDS.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYS IN ACADIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS IN THE LEVANT.

ZIGZAG JOURNEVS IN THE SUNNY SOUTH.

ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS LN INDIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE ANTIPODES.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN THE BRITISH
ISLES.

ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE GREAT NORTH-
WEST. |

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS IN AUSTRALIA.

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPP/.

—_—_e————_.

ESTES AND LAURIAT, Publishers,

BOSTON, MASS.












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE CAPITOL, WASHINGTON.
/ZIGZAG JOURNEYS

THE MISSISSIPPI

FROM CHICAGO TO THE ISLANDS OF THE
‘DISCOVERY

BY



HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH

FULLY ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON
ESTES AND LAURIAT
PUBLISHERS


Copyright, 1892,
By Estes anp LAURIAT.

Aniversity ress:
JOHN WILSON aND Son, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.


PREFACE.

T has been the purpose of the Ziczac books to



enable young ‘people to talk of the politics of dif-
ferent nations intelligently; it is the aim of this
volume to prepare its readers to discuss the mean-
ing of the Great World’s Fair of 1893, and the



historical progress that the enterprise: represents and_ illustrates.
Hence it is a book of stories associated for the most part with the
Columbian Discovery, with Chicago, and the Mississippi Valley.

A few years ago the author of this series of books formed a
Spanish Class for some young people in his home in Boston. The
class was suggested to him by the difficulties that he had met on an
excursion to Havana. After a winter of agreeable lessons with the
class, he made a visit to the City of Mexico by the way of the
Mississippi Valley and. Laredo, and found the easy Spanish that
he had learned of great service to him. This story-book is in-
tended to suggest the importance of the study of Spanish literature,
in view of our new commercial relations with the Republics of

Mexico and of South America, as well as to prepare the way for
8 PREFACE.

an intelligent visit by young people to the Columbian Exposition.
Like the other books of the series, a light narrative of fiction is
made a medium of telling the stories and legends of interesting
countries.

The author is indebted to “ Harper’s Bazar,” the “ Ladies’ Home
Journal,” and the “ Youth’s Companion” for permission to republish
stories that he had written for those periodicals; and to Mrs. Mary
A. Denison, of Washington, for an article, published in the “ Youth’s
Companion,” on the “Columbus Doors of the Capitol.”

The publishers are indebted to Charles L. Webster and Co. for
the use of numerous cuts illustrating the Mississippi Valley.

28 WORCESTER STREET, Boston, Mass.




CHAPTER

L

IL.
IL.
IV.

VI.
VII.
VIII.
TX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.

CONTENTS.



Tue Spanish CLASS . . ee ee ee ee et
Tue SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A Journey . Soe we See a gs
Tue First AMERICA . . ee eet et ee
Tue Ever Farrarun IsLE . - 6 ee 6 et te ee
Aprrur 4 «© o.m%e Ge we Oo oe bea we ty ee

Artuur’s Home Museum aND ITs RELATION TO THE JOURNEY. .
Tre Spanish Cass. — LireraRY AND Humorous ENTERTAINMENTS .
Tur Cotumpran Doors OF THE CaPITOL. — “ Como SE LLAMA ESO?”
CuicaGo AND THE GREAT WorLD’s FAIR

Tue Lanp or LINCOLN . . 6 ee eee ee tt
Sr. Louis, THE Crty oF THE Mounps AND ParKS. . - : os
SroRY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI . . . - +

STORY-TELLING ON THE Mississtpp1 (Continued). .-+ + + + + +

CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEw ORLEANS ~ - 6 + 6 ee et es
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. . + + + + + +
Av tHE Toms or COLUMBUS . . - + + ee ee ee es

PAGE
13
26
32
38
59
74
83

106
135
164
179
186

203

| 231

263

395


ILLUSTRATIONS.



Pace
The Capitol, Washington . . FrontesPiece
Tailpiece . . . Stier G25
Among the ribaad Islands fa kota a ey
Chapultepec .. . . 29

Marquette and ee ee by the
Indians .. . a 33

La Salle in search ‘of the Mouth of ae
Mississippi... . te, & 34

La Salle taking Possession of the sine
for France ... ahcelis, wu 235
La Salle on the Mississippi be MEFS Hee, 380
Indian Temple visited by La Salle . . 36
Charles V. 2. 2 2 1 1 ee ee ee 89
Cardinal Ximenes . ....... «4!
Philip I], 2. 2. 2. 1. 1 ew ee ee 4
Queen Isabella . . . 2... . 44
Abdication of Charles V.. . . . . . 48
The Ghost of Greylock . . : . 69
A Florida Heron. . . 2. 2.) 3 +e) 9S
Curiosities of the Sea. 2. 2. 1. 1 ww) 79
The White House, Washington . . . 107
The White House, Rear Entrance . . ‘109
The Washington Monument. . . . . IIo
The Treasury Building . . . ee
The National Library. . . . . . 113
The Columbian Doors of the Capitol . II4
Columbus putin Irons. . . . 1. | OTIS
Mount Vernon from the Potomac. . . II7
Mount Vernon ....... . . «£20

. Along the Wharves, Georgetown .

Washington’s Tomb
Soldiers’ Cemetery at Arlington

Ford’s Theatre, where President Lincoln
was assassinated

House where the President died
Negro Quarters

Washington Navy Yard

First House in Chicago
Wabash Avenue, Chicago, 1870

The Administration Pee Columbian
Exposition

The Woman’s Building

The Horticultural Building . ;
Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building
Galleries of Fine Arts. .

Miners’ and Mining Building

The Government: Building

Machinery Hall ifr a
New State House, Springfield, Hlinois ;
The Lincoln Monument, Springfield, Ill.
Abraham Lincoln
The Message of Life

Learning the River .

Lafayette

A Light-keeper

‘A Tow

Tailpiece
A View in Minnesota .

PacEe
I2!I
122
123

124
125
126
129
136
137

141
145
145
149
149
153
157
161
165
168
170
175
180
181
182
184
185
187
12 ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
View onthe River... ....., 189
A Typical Oldtimer . . 2 . 1. . 190
A Mississippi Lumber-raft . . . . . 192
The “Baton Rouge”... ... 197
Tailpiece . - . 1... . 1 1. 202
Initial. 2 2. We iotun fi ee, {203
Shipping on the Mississippi se ew 204
View of the River near Vicksburg. . . 205
A Relicofthe War... .... , 207
In the Cottonfield . 2... 1 1. 213
A Picturesque View of the River... . 219
A Steamboat Explosion . . , 225
The Famous Run of the “ a E,
lee”... ee we.
Initial. © 2... 231
The Crescent City ac we oe boon 232
Canal Street, New Orleans . . 2 . . 233

Old-time Carnival Scene, New Orleans . 237
The Spanish Fort near New Orleans . 239

Mardi-Gras. . . . - 2 + 2 240
Mardi-Gras Feats of Chivalry - oe ee 241
Water-front, New Orleans . . . . . 24 5
Statue of Jackson, New Orleans . . . 247
The University, New Orleans . . 7 - 248

Marquette and Joliet pa the Great
Lakes . . . So 251

Marquette and Joliet at aries on. the
Mississippi . . . . 1. 1. . 252

A Vision of the South. . . . . . , 255



De Soto .
De Soto’ s Bea in 1 Florida

De Soto seeing the Alississipp for the
first Time.

Burial of De Soto

Tailpiece ;

A Bit of Florida .

Scenes in Florida os

The Old Gate, St. Augustine

The Argonaut

Lighthouse on the Florida ee
“Colombvs Lygvr novi orbis reptor”

A Glimpse of Florida

Florida, the Home of the Heron

Relics of Columbus .

Nassau Harbor

House of a Cuban Planter

Islands of the Bahamas

Capture of a Cuttle-fish

A Giant Alligator

Kingston Harbor, Jamaica

Cuban Beggar

Havana . tn oe

Statue of Columbus.

A Cuban Beauty . :

Tomb of Columbus at Havana .

The Old Cathedral, Havana.

General View of the Alhambra .

Pace
259
260

261
262
262
264.
265
267
268
269
272
275
279
283
284
287
291
295
299
303
306
307
309
311
314
315
317


ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.



CHAPTER I.
THE SPANISH CLASS.

~q7 HE Spanish Class had been conjugating the verb
(27, Meaning “to go.” One of the members had
pronounced the first person plural of the present
tense Varmouse, which had caused a smile.

“If you pronounce your Spanish in that way,”
said the teacher, Mr. Green, “ you will find yourself
beyond the help of an interpreter in Spanish countries.” -

“ Let me hear you conjugate the verb, and I will do better in my
next lesson,” said the pupil.
Mr. Green began : —



6S. « 4. ghost se. Vow:

Present. Preterite Definite.
Voy . . Igo (or am going). Ful. . . I went.
Vas . . Thou goest. , Fuiste . . Thou wentest.
Va. . . He (or she) goes. Fué . . . He (or she) went.
Vamos . We go. Fuimos. . We went.
Vais . . You go. Fuisteis. . You went.
Van . . They go. Fueron. . They went.

“That sounds like music,” said the pupil. “ I enjoy hearing you
conjugate a Spanish verb as much as listening toasong. The Spanish
language is like poetry. I have been told that my French would not
I4 . ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

be understood in France, nor my German in Germany. I wonder if ~
my Spanish would be comprehended in Spanish countries, or whether
the people whom I met would simply shake their heads and say, ‘ No
comprendo,’ or ‘ No entiendo,’ or ‘ Hableme en Espagnol ?’”

“They would hardly comprehend ‘ varmouse,’” said Mr. Green.
“ But the pronunciation of. the Spanish language so closely resembles
the Latin, that even a Spanish Class like this would be well under-
stood in Mexico, Cuba, and South America. If you were to say e/
pan at the table, the servant would bring you bread; or carne,’ he
would bring you meat, or carnero® mutton, or huevos * eggs, or gueso®
cheese, or agwa® water. Add to such words deme (give), as Deme
# (Give tea), or Deme café (Give coffee), or Deme leche® (Give milk), and
you would easily find your wants supplied, though after a rude and
childish manner.” ;

“ That is very encoutaging,” said the pupil. “It would be much -
to be fairly understood.”

““ Yes.” answered Mr. Green, “so far; but —”

* Buty”

“Yes, like the man who was willing that his son should see the
world, but was reluctant to have the world see his son, the Spanish-
speaking people would be likely to understand your Spanish with its ~
hard English accent and flavor; but it is probable that you would
make a mortifying exhibition of ignorance when you tried to compre-
hend ¢hem. You would talk a Latin-Spanish which would be intelli-

- gible, like a parrot; but when your Spanish friends came to reply in
melodious phrases, full of elegant expressions of courtesy, in which
several words blended as in one, I fear that you would have —”

“To varmouse,’ added the pupil, quickly.

“ Or would wish to do so.”

“ Are Spanish manners better than ours?” asked the pupil.

1 pahn. 2 car’nay. 8 car-nay’roh. . * hoo-ay’vos.
5 kay’soh. 6 ah’gwah. 7 day’may. 8 lay’tchay.


THE SPANISH CLASS. 15

“Spanish hearts, in my opinion, are not better than ours. . But
we poor, money-making Americans have but a poor education in the
outward forms of politeness. A Mexican eox with his polite address
would be likely to put to shame an American millionaire.”

“ How?”

“Let me illustrate. I was in the City bf Mexico a few months
ago, and was introduced to the wife of an officer in the government
‘service. J was interested in a beautiful Mexican singing-bird,. called
the Clarina, or Clarine. I had seen some of these birds at the
flower-market on the plaza, near the Cathedral, and had heard a few
of their clear, bell-like notes. Now, I am, as you know, a member of
the Ornithological Society, and I had with me my card of member-
ship. I showed my card to a Mexican friend, and he told me that a
lady of rank had some beautiful birds in her pazzo, and among them
the fluting clarinas. He said that he would secure me an introduc-
tion to her through her husband, and he did so. When the gate of
her casa flew open to me, and revealed a Jato of birds and flowers,
and sa/as of statues and pictures, what do you think the lady said
to me?”

“ Howdy?”

eINOe + :

“ Buenas tardes, Sefior?”

“No.”

“ Are you a book-agent ?” ve

“No. She said, ‘I give you my house, Sefior.’”

“ She did?”

“Yes; and what would you have said in return?”

“T would have said, ‘ Thank you (graczas), I will take it. I have
been looking for just such a house as this all my life. When will
the deeds be ready?’” |

-“ That would have been a characteristic American answer.”

“ But what did you say?”
‘16 ZIGZAG Y¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI,

“I put my hand on my heart so, and bowed’ so, and said, ‘ You do
me great honor, Sefiora;’ and then I bowed again, and she bowed, and
began pouring out compliments upon me as sweet as a clarina’s song.”

“ And you didn’t get a deed of the house, after all?”

“No. Every Mexican lady says to a well-introduced stranger,
‘My house is yours, Sefior (or Sefiora).’ ”

« And it does n’t mean anything, after all?”

“No. I-would have been pleased had she said, ‘I will give you
one of my sweet-singing clarinas.’”

“Did she?”

“Oh, no. I tried to hint to her that such a present would be
acceptable.”

“ What did she say?”

“She said that a very dear friend of hers had clarinas to sed, and a
that she would be pleased to make known to her my wishes. I asked — ;
her the price, and she said, ‘ Ten pesos — to an American.

“So she was just like an American, after all, with all of her fine
words ?”

“No,—she really was more hospitable than most Americans.
After showing me her birds, she said, ‘ My sada is yours. I stepped
into the sada,and was given the place of honor on a. sofa. I ex-
pressed my love of Spanish music, and she seated herself at the piano
and sang ‘La Paloma, and afterward played a Jdolero, and sang the
Mexican National Hymn. But let us return to the verb, Voy .. .
I go.” an

“Seftor Green,” said the pupil, “I would like to become a better
pupil in Spanish, and to go to Mexico. When nearly one half of the |
people of the American continent speak Spanish, why is not that lan-
guage taught in our schools? Why do we not study Spanish instead
of the continental languages of Europe?”

_ “ Education has its fashions, as well as society. In view of the
reciprocity treaties with Mexico and South America; of the great





1”


THE SPANISH CLASS. 17

railroad that is to connect all of the North and South American Re-
publics, of the subsidized steamers to South American ports, and of
the Nicaraguan Canal, the Spanish language must of necessity be-
come a part of our system of education. It will soon be the language

of trade, as well as of art, music, and poetry. So you see what an in-
- centive you have to study it well, and not varmouse too speedily.”

The members of the Spanish Class consisted of Mr. Green, the
teacher, Miss Green, Misses Brown and Gray, and Mr. Diaz, who be-
longed to an American-Spanish family. They were young people,
and intimate friends; and the class met twice a week in the parlors of
Mr. and Mrs. Green, the parents of Miss Green, who often passed an
hour with them after a recitation.

It was the usage of the class to have literary exercises in Spanish -
history, art, or music after each recitation. To these exercises they
sometimes invited their friends. Mr. Green often gave recitations
from the “ Cid” or “Don Quixote.” Misses Brown and Gray played
the mandolin, and Mr. Diaz the guitar. Readings from Prescott’s |
“Conquest of Peru,” “ Conquest of Mexico,” and “Ferdinand and
Isabella,” from Irving’s “ Conquest of Granada” and “ Columbus,”
from Barlow’s “Columbiad,” and Lockhart’s « Spanish Ballads,” and
Mrs. Hemans’s historical poems of Spain, formed a part of these
entertainments.

But the favorite selections of the class, which were asked for
again and again by their friends, were a musical rendering of the
always popular “Spanish Cavalier,” with piano accompaniment to two
mandolins, a mandolin solo called “The Spanish Fantasy,” and a
humorous reading by Miss Brown, entitled “The Spanish Duel.”

It may be that some of my young readers will like to form a
Spanish Class like the one we are describing, and we may say that
this picture is very nearly from real life. So I will present from
ime to time some of the literary exercises of the class; and we
will close this chapter by copying the favorite humorous selection,
‘The Spanish Duel,” of unknown authorship : —

2



















AIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL.

NEAR the city of Sevilla,
Years and years ago,
Dwelt a lady in a villa,
Years and years ago;
And her hair was black as night,
And her eyes were starry. bright ;
Olives on her brow were blooming,
Roses red her lips perfuming,
And her step was light and airy
As the tripping of a fairy;
When she spoke, you thought, each mer
?T was the trilling of a tases
When she sang, you heard a gush
Of full-voiced Sweetness like a thrush;
And she struck from the guitar
Ringing music, sweeter far
Than the morning breezes make
Through the lime-trees when they shake, —
Than the ocean murmuring o’er
Pebbles on the foamy shore.
Orphaned both of sire and mother
Dwelt she in that lonely villa,
Absent now her guardian brother
On a mission from Sevilla.
Skills it little now the telling
How I wooed that maiden fair,
- Tracked her to her lonely dwelling
And obtained an entrance there.
Ah! that lady of the villa —
And I loved her so,
Near the city of Sevilla,
Years and years ago. |
Ay de mi! — Like echoes falling
Sweet and sad and low.
Voices come at night, recalling
Years and years ago.

Once again I’m sitting near thee,
Beautiful and bright:

Once again I see and hear thee
In the autumn night;

Once again I’m whispering to thee
Faltering words of love ;


THE SPANISH CLASS. Ig

Once again with song I woo thee
In the orange grove

Growing near that lonely villa
Where the waters flow

Down to the city of Sevilla —
Years and years ago.

*T was‘an autumn eve ; the splendor
Of the day was gone,
And the twilight, soft and tender,
Stole so gently on ‘
That the eye could scarce discover
How the shadows, spreading over,
Like a veil of silver gray,
Toned the golden clouds, sun-painted,
Till they paled, and paled, and fainted
From the face of heaven away.
And a dim light, rising slowly,
O’er the welkin spread,
Till the blue sky, calm and holy,
Gleamed above our head ;
And the thin moon, newly nascent,
Shone in glory meek and sweet,
As Murillo paints her crescent
Underneath Madonna’s feet.
And we sat outside the villa
Where the waters flow
Down to the city of Sevilla ~
Years and years ago.

There we sate —the mighty river
Wound its serpent course along
Silent, dreamy Guadalquivir,
Famed in many a song.
Silver gleaming ’mid the plain
Yellow with the golden grain,
Gliding down through deep, rich meadow
Where the sated cattle rove,
Stealing underneath the shadows
Of the verdant olive grove ;
With its plentitude of waters,
Ever flowing calm and slow,
Loved by Andalusia’s daughters,
Sung by poets long ago.
ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Seated half within a bower

Where the languid evening breeze
Shook out odors in a shower

From oranges and citron trees,

Sang she from a romancero,
How a Moorish chieftain bold
Fought a Spanish caballero
By Sevilla’s walls of old ;

How they battled for a lady,
Fairest of the maids of Spain, —

How the Christian’s lance, so steady,
Pierced the Moslem through the brain.

Then she ceased; her black eyes, moving,
Flashed, as asked she with a smile,
“ Say, are maids as fair and loving,
Men as faithful, in your isle?”

« British maids,” I said, “are ever
Counted fairest of the fair ;

Like the swans on yonder river
Moving with a stately air.

“ Wooed not quickly, won not lightly,
But when won, forever true ;

Trial draws the bond more tightly,
‘Time can ne’er the knot undo.”

“And the men?” —“ Ah! dearest lady,
Are — quien sabe ? who can say?

To make love they ’re ever ready,
Where they can and where they may ;

“Fixed as waves, as breezes steady
Ina cchangeful April day —

Como brisas, como rios,

‘ No se sabe, sabe Dios.”

‘* Are they faithful ?” —“ Ah! quien sabe ?:

Who can answer that they are ?

While we may we should be happy.” —
Then I took up her guitar,

And I sang in sportive strain,

This song to an old air of Spain.
_ THE SPANISH CLASS, | 21

QUIEN SABE?

I.

“The breeze of the evening that cools the hot air,
That kisses the orange and shakes out thy hair,
Is its freshness less welcome, less sweet its perfume,
That you know not the region from which it is come ?
Whence the wind blows, where the wind goes,
Hither and thither and whither — who knows?

Who knows?

Hither and thither — but whither — who knows ?

Il.

“ The river forever glides singing along,
The rose on the bank bends down to its song ;
And the flower, as it listens, unconsciously dips,
Till the rising wave glistens and kisses its lips.
But why the wave rises and kisses the rose,
And why the rose stoops for those kisses — who knows ?
Who knows?
And away flows the river — but whither — who knows?

III.

“Let me be the breeze, love, that wanders along
The river that ever rejoices in song ;
Be ¢hou to my fancy the orange in bloom,
The rose by the river that gives its perfume.
Would the fruit be so golden, so fragrant the rose,
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?
Who knows ? ,
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?”

As I sang, the lady listened,
Silent save one gentle sigh:
When I ceased, a tear-drop glistened
On the dark fringe of her eye.

Then my heart reproved the feeling
Of that false and heartless strain
Which I sang in words concealing
What my heart would hide in vain.


ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI,

Up I sprang. What words were uttered
Bootless now to think or tell, —

Tongues speak wild when hearts are fluttered
By the mighty master spell.

Love, avowed with sudden boldness,
Heard with flushings that reveal,

Spite of woman’s studied coldness,
Thoughts the heart cannot conceal.

Words half-vague and passion-broken,
Meaningless, yet meaning all

That the lips have left unspoken,
That we never may recall.

“ Magdalena, dearest, hear me,”
Sighed I, as I seized her hand —

“Hola! Sefior,” very near me, ,
Cries a voice of stern command.

And a stalwart caballero .
Comes upon me with a stride,
On his head a slouched sombrero,
A toledo by his side.

From his breast he flung his capa
With a stately Spanish air —

(On the whole, he looked the chap a
Man to slight would scarcely dare.)

“Will your worship have the goodness
To release that lady’s hand?”

“ Sefior,” I replied, “ this rudeness
I-am not prepared to stand.

“ Magdalena, say —’? The maiden,
With a cry of wild surprise,

As with secret sorrow laden,
Fainting sank before my eyes.

Then the Spanish caballero
Bowed with haughty courtesy,
Solemn as a tragic hero,
And announced himself to me.


THE SPANISH CLASS. 22

** Sefior, Iam. Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo
De Xymenes y Ribera
Y Santallos y Herrera
Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa —
Y Zorilla y—” “No more, sir,
’T is as good as twenty score, sir,”
Said I to him, with a frown ;
‘* Mucha bulla para nada, ,
No palabras, draw your ’spada ;
If you’re up for a duello
You will find I’m just your fellow —
Sefior, lam Peter Brown!” |

By the river’s bank that night,
Foot to foot in strife,
Fought we in the dubious light
A fight of death or life.

Don Camillo slashed my shoulder,
With the pain I grew the bolder,
Close and closer still I pressed ;
Fortune favored me at last,
I broke his guard, my weapon passed
Through the caballero’s breast —
. Down to the earth went Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo
De Xymenes y Ribera
Y Santallos y Herrera
Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa
Y Zorilla y— One groan,
And he lay motionless as stone.
. The man of many names went down,
Pierced by the sword of Peter Brown!

Kneeling down, I raised his head; .
The caballero faintly said :

“ Sefior Ingles, fly from Spain

With all speed, for you have slain
A Spanish noble, Don Camillo
Guzman Miguel Pedrillo

De Xymenes y Ribera

Y Santallos y Herrera
24 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Y de Rivas y Mendoza
Y Quintana y de Rosa
Y Zorillay—” He swooned
With the bleeding from his wound.
If he be living still, or dead,
I never knew, I ne’er shall know.
That night from Spain in haste I fled,
Years and years ago.

Oft when autumn eve is closing,

Pensive, puffing a cigar,

In my chamber lone reposing,
Musing half, and half a-dozing,

Comes a vision from afar
Of that lady of the villa
In her satin, fringed mantilla,

And that haughty caballero
With his capa and sombrero,
Vainly in my mind revolving

That long, jointed, endless name ; —~
*T is a riddle past my solving,

Who he was or whence he came.
Was he that brother home returned ?
Was he some former lover spurned ?
Or some family fiancé
That the lady did not fancy?

Was he any one of those?
Sabe Dios. Ah! God knows.





Sadly smoking my manilla,
Much I long to know
How fares the lady of the villa

That once charmed me so,
When I visited Sevilla

Years and years ago.
Has she married a Hidalgo?
Gone the way that ladies all go
In those drowsy Spanish cities,
Wasting life — a thousand pities —
Waking up for a fiesta
From an afternoon siesta,
To “ Giralda ” now repairing,
Or the Plaza for an airing ;
At the shaded reja flirting,
At a bull-fight now disporting ;








THE SPANISH CLASS.

Does she walk at evenings ever
Through the gardens by the river?
Guarded by an old duenna

Fierce and sharp as a hyena,

With her goggles and her fan
Warning off each wicked man?

Is she dead, or is she living ?

Is she for my absence grieving ?

Is she wretched, is she happy?
Widow, wife, or maid? Quien sabe?



















25
CHAPTER II.

THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A JOURNEY.

aHE reason for the forming of our Spanish Class
may be of interest to the reader. Mr. Green was
a teacher, and had travelled in Mexico, and Mr.
Diaz was a lover of Spanish art; but Misses Brown
and Gray originated the class, and called to their
instruction the accomplished Mr. Green and Mr.
Diaz. The four studied for a time, with only Mr. and Mrs. Green
and little Arthur Green to note their progress. Mr. Green and_his
wife at first accompanied their daughter and son Arthur to the



class meetings at the houses of the young ladies and Mr. Diaz, as
specially invited guests: They were prosperous people, and soon
became so much interested in the class as to invite the meeting
to their parlors, and to suggest that entertainments in Spanish music
and literature follow the lessons of the class. These entertainments
came to be attended by the special friends of the four pupils, and
the meetings of the class at last formed quite a social feature of
the community.

Misses Brown and Gray had been promised by their fathers a
vacation tour in Europe. Among the countries that they had
planned to visit was Spain, or Andalusia. They had read Irving's
“ Alhambra,” and had pictured to themselves the beauties of the
Valley of the Darro. To prepare for this visit they had taken up
the study of colloquial Spanish, and so formed the class.




THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A FOURNEY. 27

Little Arthur. Green was not a member of the class, but attended
the meetings by permission.
Mr. Green, the teacher, a cousin of the Green family, often spoke






to the class
of the beau-
ties and an-
tiquities of Mexico, and
Mr. Diaz of his visits to
Cuba and Caracas. At
one of the meetings,
when Mr. Green had been describing
the poetic antiquities of the Valley of
Mexico, such as the Sacrificial Stone,
the Shield of Montezuma II., and the
mysterious inscriptions in the grand
Museum near the President’s Palace, Mr. Green, the father of Miss
Green and Arthur, said,—

“Mexico is the American Egypt, and the Gulf of Mexico our
Mediterranean. What in all the world can be more interesting than
the pyramids of this ancient land? I would rather see the ruins

AMONG THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.
28 - ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

of the halls of the Montezumas than the temples of the Pharaohs!
If I were to travel, I would begin in my own land. I would go to
the Great Lakes, to the Thousand Islands, to the Valley of the
Mississippi, and to the Gulf and the table-lands of Mexico. I would
see the Islands of the Discovery, and the tomb of Columbus in
Havana. I would travel first at home, and then abroad.”

“ There would be but little to surprise an American abroad after
he had seen his own lands,” said Mr. Diaz. “The Valley of the
City of Mexico is more beautiful than Italy. The Sierra Madre
is more grand than the Apennines, and Popocatepetl than Vesuvius.
Nothing on earth can exceed the beauty of the paseo of the City of
Mexico, from the official palace to Chapultepec, with its statues of
the Montezumas and ancient and modern heroes. The sky is azure ;
the air is a living splendor; the mountains which glisten with snow
an eternal glory. No birds can sing sweeter than the clarinas; no
roses are more luxuriant than the Mexican,—there are said to bea
hundred varieties. In Mexico everything seems to live. Romance is
there. One dreams of the Toltecs, the Aztecs, the Montezumas,
the Viceroys, and the Dons. Here caciques were tortured for
gold; here came the Viceroys, and among them the poetic Salvia-
tierra and the romantic Galves. The latter lifted. the white pile of
Chapultepec into the clear air, and gave the name to the Texan
city of Galveston. Here Cortes came, and wept on the sad night

near the wonderful walls, under the cypress. At Guadeloupe the»

angels were believed to have been heard singing in the air. You
may not believe the legend, but it shows a poetic mind. The so-
called “ Halls of the Montezumas” may be airy imaginings, and the
pyramids vanishing ruins, but where else can we find such scenic
splendors and poetic charms? Mexico only needs education to make
her the most iovely country in the world.”

“You and Mr. Green would almost make one give up one’s
purpose of first travelling abroad,” said Miss Brown.


e
ah

St





THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A FOURNEY. 29

“] would rather go to the tomb of Columbus than to the tombs
of the old European kings,” said Mr. Green, Senior. “Now I have
a’ proposal to make to the Spanish Class. My wife and I are be:
coming gray-haired. I have been quite successful in my business,
as you well know. If the class will make a tour with my wife and

-me to Chicago, St. Louis, and down the Mississippi Valley to New

Orleans and Tampa, and through the Islands of the Discovery to



























































































































































































=a iil fall 3
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lars ee

, AUR = a
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-55==SARGEMISG===

CHAPULTEPEC.









the tomb of Columbus, I will pay all of the expenses. I will study
Spanish with you on our way, and will take my boy Arthur as my
special company. What do you all say?”

“You are very kind, Mr. Green,” said Miss Brown; “but we have
our European journey already planned.”

“Go to Europe another year. See our own Rhine Valley, our
own Mediterranean first. I have worked hard for many years, and
it would make me ‘perfectly happy to go on such a journey with a
30 . ZIGZAG FOURNEYS.ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

party of young people like you. I will treat you all with the
generosity, so far as I am able, of a ‘fine old English cue many
You shall want for nothing that I can supply.”

“You will even give us rooms in the old palace hotel of the
Iturbide?” said Mr. Green, the teacher.

“Yes, if my purse is deep enough for that.”

Miss Brown was silent. She could not forget that custom went
to Europe. Miss Gray did not speak; but little Arthur Green looked
over the back of his mother’s chair, and gave a persuasive glance at
each of the young ladies, and then pointed down to his mother, who
did not see him.

Poor Mrs. Green! How beautiful and patient she looked! Her
hair was gray, her face very white. She had struggled with her
husband in the days when their means were small. As the family
became prosperous, one after another of her children had died, until
only one daughter and little Arthur were left.

Her bereavements made her a mother to every one. She worked
in the church, the hospital, everywhere that she was needed. She
had never sought pleasure at popular resorts. Her heart was always
engaged in quiet duties.

The picture of Arthur pointing down fon the high chair to his
mother’s gray hair was persuasive.

“Let us go to the Mississippi Valley and Mexico,” said Miss Brown.

“Yes,” answered Miss Gray. “Let us go there first, and how
grateful we ought to be for such an opportunity! Mr. Green; we
thank you.”

“ Did ever a prince have such subjects?” said Mr. Green, quoting
Withington.

“Did ever a subject have such a prince?” said Miss Brown,
quoting from the same old story. |

“And now,” said Mr. Green, “let us hear again the Mexican
National Hymn. That shall celebrate our decision.”
THE SPANISH CLASS TALKS OF A fOURNEY. 31

The Mexican National Hymn is indeed a patriotic inspiration.
Seldom has grand national music been wedded to such noble words.
The Mexicans themselves are very proud of it. The Government
allows it to be played only on patriotic occasions and at presidential
receptions. It is always played to announce the coming and reception
of the President. ’

The class were good singers, and the quartette made the parlors
ring with the thrilling inspiration.

The words and music must have interest to our readers, and
especially to any who are studying Spanish, and have not seen them,
or to any about to enter a Spanish class. The song is very effective °



for concert use, and may be sung in Spanish-Mexican costume. —

NATIONAL HYMN.

Coro.
Mexicanos, al grito de guerra
E] acero aprestad y el bridén,
Y retiemble en sus centros la tierra,
Al sonoro rugir del canén.

Cina joh patria! tus sienes de oliva
De la paz el arcdngle divino,

Que en el cielo tu eterno destino
Por el dedo de Dios se escribid.

Mas si osare un extrano enemigo
Profanar con su planta tu suelo,
Piensa joh patria querida! que el cielo
Un soldado en cada hijo te did.

Coro.

En sangrientos combates los viste,
Por tu amor palpitando sus senos,
‘Arrostrar la metralla serenos,

Y Ja muerte 6 la gloria buscar.

Si el recuerdo de antiguas hazanas
De tus hijos inflama la mente,

Los laureles del triunfo tu frente
Volveran inmortales 4 ornar.
Coro.

CHORUS.

At the loud cry of war all assemble,
Then your swords and your steeds all prepare;
And the earth to its centre shall tremble, /
When the cannon’s deep roar rends the air.

Oh! my country, entwine on thy temples
Boughs of olive so fresh and so vernal,
When inscribed in the heavens eternal
Blessed peace for all the land thou dost see.
But if stranger and foe in their boldness
Dare to tread on thy soil, they must perish.
Then, oh! my country, this thought only cherish:
Every son is but a soldier for thee.
CHORUS.

Thou hast seen them in deadliest battle,
Love for thee their proud bosoms inflati
Stand serenely, the bullet awaiting,
Even joyful, seeking glory or death.
If the mem’ry of those ancient combats
Fill thy sons with a zeal that is burning,
Will they, with laurels of triumph returning,
Sing thy glory with their last feeble breath.
CHORUS.
CHAPTER IIL

THE FIRST AMERICA..

ZHE tour that we have planned,” said Mr. Green,
Senior, after one of the lessons of the Spanish



Class, “is really to early First America. Latin —
America had a hundred years of thrilling his: —
tory before the coming of the ‘Mayflower.’ This.
history is associated with the islands of the
Spanish main, Mexico, and Florida, and later, in the seventeenth
century, with the great Mississippi Valley. So we are going to old |
America.

“Champlain saw Lake Huron in 1615; and Nicollet Lake
Michigan in 1634. The first Europeans to see the Illinois were
Marquette and Joliet in 1673. They were hailed by the Indians —
with peace-pipes, as they ascended the Illinois River. Would that
the prophecies of those peace-pipes had been fulfilled !

« After them came La Salle and Tonti, zigzagging on the stream
towards the Mississippi. La Salle gathered the Indian tribes around
a fort called St. Louis, near what is now Starved Rock. Kaskaskia



was founded as a mission, and so the evolution of the empire of the ©
great Mississippi Valley began. The country was governed from |
Quebec and New Orleans. ;

“The great valley saw the French flag, the Spanish flag, and :
the English flag rise and disappear. It saw the romantic mission of _
‘Kaskaskia rise, ring its bells, and vanish. ‘The Illini were starved to |















THE FIRST AMERICA. 33

death at old Fort St. Louis, by being surrounded by their enemies, —
one of the most dramatic events of any history; for the old tribes
perished with thirst and fever, with the lovely Illinois flowing full
in view.

“The romances of the great Mississippi Valley remain to be
written. No romancer or poet has touched them, no composer
‘sung them. :

“Tf we bound the Valley by the Alleghanies on
‘one side, and the Rocky Mountains on the other, what




a stupendous em- ;
ire it is! Any |
f the leading |

ie

han old Spain.
England and
Scotland would
‘be mere dots on this magnificent territory. !,
“ Narvaez of the expedition of De Soto visited Louisiana in 1542,
om. his rude brigantines; and earlier by two years Coronado had rested
_by the Moqui pueblos. So you see we are going through the valleys
_of the First America. And when travel becomes a part of our system
of American education, this is the first tour that the student should
make.”

“So we must all study hard,” said Arthur. “Como se llama eso? %

3

MARQUETTE AND JOLIET WELCOMED ©
BY THE INDIANS.
34. . ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

(What do you call this?) he asked of Miss Gray, holding up a rail-
road ticket. © :

“No comprendo, Sefior,” answered Miss Gray.

“Then how do you expect we shall ever get there?” asked
Arthur, good-humoredly.

“No comprendo, Sefior (I do not understand).”







































i i)

L iRS iA \\ 4 . is ar Uy
ang!

TR GER



LA SALLE IN SEARCH OF THE MOUTH OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ Deme usted un cerillo,” said Arthur, “and I will retire.”

“No comprendo, Sefior.”

«“ Adios,” said Arthur; and the class in chorus replied, —

“ Buenas noches!” :

Although Arthur was not a member of the class, he learned much f
by listening to the others; and his little jokes often stimulated study. —
He often asked questions of Mr. Green, the teacher, about the ©
language.

“JT would not like to be swindled when I am in Cuba,” he said ©




THE FIRST AMERICA. 35

one day to Mr. Green, after an hour with the class. “What is a
dollar in Spanish?”
“ Un peso,” ? said Mr. Green.

‘i

al

eS seul





LA SALLE TAKING POSSESSION OF THE COUNTRY FOR FRANCE.

“ And a quarter of a dollar?”

“A real is twelve and a half cents; dos reales would be twenty-
five cents, and cuatro reales fifty cents. A one-cent piece is called
centavo, six and a quarter cents are called a medzo, and one dollar
in gold, escudito de oro.”

“What are the Spanish words for ‘ how much’?”

“Simply the word ‘quanto.’ ”

“Gracias, Sefior. Is ¢ha¢ right?”

1 pa’so.
36 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

«« Sf, Sefior, or more politely, ‘ Mil gracias (A thousand thanks),
Seftor ’.”



In preparation
for his visit to
the great Mis-
sissippi Valley,
Arthur read the
works of Park-
man, and _ the
History of the
Civil War. Park.’
man’s “ Life of
La Salle” and
the “ Pioneers of













France in the
LA SALLE ON THE MISSISSIPPI. New World”
opened to him a
vision of wonderful history of which he had never before dreamed.
“T love to travel in imagination,” he said one day to his
father; “and eee
whether I real- YAP eh, aS
ly go on this 4% a Ws 5
journey or not, (YWa7nDeZ Af i nee | :
I have already Age me

4
i
}
f
ae

CG

been in anticipa-



tion, and have



had a veal good

time.”
















The class
had first enter-

tained the plan
1 INDIAN TEMPLE VISITED BY LA SALLE. Fea
of taking Mex- .

PEA TT RUE ZOU
Oe





im

i
















| THE FIRST AMERICA. 37

ico into their journey, but finally decided to go only to those Mexi-
can places that are directly associated with the Columbian Discovery
and the World's Fair, Chicago, the Mississippi Valley, and the Spanish
Main. Mr. Green géve gave up the purpose of going to glorious old
Mexico reluctantly, but saw that it would be well to follow strictly
historical lines in the educational journey, which he hoped to make a
useful as well as entertaining outing. He saw the future in the pres-
ent of all that enters into young people’s lives, and so arranged the
journey with the historical impression in view.
CHAPTER IV.
THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE.

ROMANCES OF THE COLUMBIAN SEAS. — “ CRAZY JANE.” — THE GREAT AMERICAN LEGEND:.



Ay WHEN Arthur Green saw the prospect of making a

tour through the Mississippi Valley to the Co-
lumbian Seas and Islands of the Discovery, he be-
came a student of books that pictured the old
history of these places. He read Prescott and
Janvier. He bought a Spanish phrase-book, and
began the study of a Spanish grammar. He read the story of the Cid,
and asked that his Christmas present might be a Spanish edition of
“Don Quixote.” He had read Irving’s works on Spanish history
before he had thought of the Mexican journey. .

He would greet his sister in the morning with a light, happy, ban-
tering jargon of Spanish words, somewhat as follows : —

“ Buenos dias, Senorita!? (Good-day!) Cémo est4 usted?” (How
are you?) Qué horaes?* (What time is it?)”

To such salutations and interrogations his sister would soinonly
answer, “ Si, Sefor,” or “ Si, Caballero,” without regard to the fitness of
the musical words to the question.

His mother, although a quiet home woman, was a reader of the best
books. In his historical reading he found in her an interested and
intelligent adviser.

1 Buay’nohs dee’ahs, sain-yo-re’ta. 2 Co’moh es-tah’ oos-tayth’? 3 Kay oh’rah ess?


THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 39

’

He one day heard Mr. Diaz speak of Cuba as “the ever faithful
isle.” The expression is poetic, and excites curiosity ; and he asked
his mother its meaning.

“It is a title which the Spanish. Court and people were proud to
bestow upon Cuba,” said Mrs. Green, “ because the island has always
been faithful to the Spanish Crown. Cuba was not the first name
given to the island; Columbus named it Juana.”

“ After ‘Crazy Jane,” said Mr. Green. “It was a very appro-
priate name. She was as faithful as the island of Cuba has been.”

“ Crazy Jane?” The name suggested astory. Who was Juana, or
“ Crazy Jane,” and how had she been so faithful ?

STORY OF CRAZY JANE, THE DAUGHTER OF ISABELLA.

“T will tell you,” said Mrs. Green, in answer to such inquiries.
“Juana, or ‘Crazy Jane’ as she has been thoughtlessly called, — for it
seems to me unkind to refer to the infirmities of such a woman
in that way, — was a daughter of Isabella, and the mother of Charles
‘V. You must read Robertson’s ‘Charles V.’ She lost her mind
when a young woman, and she
watched over the dead body of her
husband for nearly half a century,
and took no interest in the great
history that the world was then mak-
ing. So yousee she was faithful to
him.”

“Who was her husband? ”- asked © |
Arthur.

“ Philip the Handsome, Arch-duke
of Austria.”

“Was Juana beautiful ? ”

“No, she was plain, poor woman; and this was one of the causes

_ that overthrew her mind, and made her melancholy.”


40 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ But she was great ?”

“Yes, as the mother of Charles v. y

“Tam interested in this woman, whose name was given to Cuba..
You say that she was great as the mother of Charles V. Who was
Charles. V?” .

“ He was an Emperor of Germany, born at Ghent in 1500, eight
years after the discovery of America by Columbus. He was an heir to
the Spanish throne; and when he was sixteen years of age he became
King of Spain, reigning in place of his mother, Juana, who wished
for no kingdom but the tomb of her husband. The famous diplomat
Ximenes was the leading mind in the state during the reign of the young
king. At the age of nineteen he succeeded to the throne of Ger-
many, and was crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1520, and received from
the Pope the title of Emperor of Rome. He. was the Emperor of |
the days of the Reformation. It was in 1521, in the early part of his
reign, that the Diet at Worms was called, which may be said to have ~
changed the religious. and political events of the world.” |

“I now begin to see his place in history,” said Arthur. “He was |
the Emperor of the days of Luther. He conquered the world.” |

“A great part of the European world,” said Mrs. Green. “He |
subdued Castile, overcame the Turks, drove the French from Italy, |
made Francis I. a prisoner, and while yet a youth became master —
of continental Europe. At the age of twenty-five the son of un-
happy Juana was king among kings, and the greatest emperor in the |
world.”

“Did his mother share the glory?” asked Arthur. ,

“No; only in fame. She took no interest in these events; and |
the knowledge that she was the mother of the Empéror of the world |
never brought a smile to her face. Her heart had been crushed in her |
young years, and it seemed to have become incapable of happiness or |
affection.”

“What became of Charles V.?” asked Arthur.






/ : ty

rae SS



a i

CARDINAL XIMENES,













THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. A3

“He took Rome by storm, plundered it, and made a prisoner of
the Pope. War followed war, in which he was generally successful. »
But in middle life he became a victim of the melancholy of his mother,
gave up his throne to his son, and retired to a monastery, where he




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of eee” I
or

/ PHILIP It,

passed two years in dejection, gloom, and the renunciation of all
things. In this darkness he died. He was the father of Philip II.
of Spain.”
“Philip II].?” asked Arthur.. “He hada strange history.”
“Brilliant and dark,” said Mrs. Green. “You must read Prescott.
Philip was cold, haughty, and politic from his childhood. He inherited
the melancholy of his blood, and the shadow was apparent in his early


44 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

years. He was not like other boys. His teachers could not mould
him. He was the heartless husband of ‘Bloody Mary,’ or Mary

Tudor; and Mexico and Peru and the Spanish main were a part of
his vast dominions.”



QUEEN ISABELLA.

“He was the king who caused the fitting out of the Invincible
Armada?”

“Yes, and the one who set in order the. Inquisition. His reli-
gious zeal injured the very cause he espoused, and he left a dark name
on his age. He was very religious but very cruel, and his character
was one of singular contradictions.” j

« But,” said Arthur, “tell me now the story of Juana.”

“TI know of no story in history that is more pathetic,” said Mrs.




THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. , 45

Green. “When Columbus visited the Court of Isabella, he must —
have met there a dark, plain-looking girl, who was interesting only
from the position that she would be likely to occupy in the world.
But she was the daughter of Isabella, and the hope of thé royal family ;
and these associations must have impressed the mind of Columbus.
Of all the islands of the great discovery, Cuba, as it is now called, was
the most wonderful and beautiful; and to this crown jewel of the
Western seas Columbus gave the name of Juana.

“The unhappiness of the young princess arose from disappointed
love. She married while very young, and loved her husband with a
passion that consumed her mind and heart. He did not return her
love. With him the marriage was merely a political event. He was
very: handsome; she was homely. Her devotion to him disgusted
him, and he neglected her. But notwithstanding his neglect and
aversion, her love for him became her life. Fame was nothing, power
was nothing, family ties nothing, if she might have the heart of Philip.
Her only desire in life was for his love. She was a beggar for his
affection, and for that only. In comparison with his love, kingdoms
were mere earth to her, and crowns were dust. She followed him
everywhere ; his smile was her joy, and his neglect her misery.

“He was untrue to her in every way. She knew it, but would not
admit it. Whatever he might be or do, she was tesolved to be true
to him; and she was true.

io She pained Isabella by her want of interest in affairs of state.
The Court saw her morbid conduct with anxiety. She was a slave to
a passion so absorbing as to unfit her to become a true queen.

“The crisis came: Philip died. Her heart seemed to die with him.
She caused his dead body to be kept in her room fora long time, in
hope that it would revive. She followed it from one part of the
country to another, on its long journey to the tomb, watching over
it by night under the moon and stars, and once causing the coffin to
be opened in the vain hope that life would return. Mrs. Moulton, in
a short poem, thus tells the touching story : —
46

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

THE VIGIL OF QUEEN JUANA.

OVER the desert ways,
The yellow sands of Spain,
Wandered through weary days
The mad Queen, “ Crazy Jane ;”

Walking beside the bier
Whereon /e lay, at last,
Philippe le Bel, her dear,
False lord, by Death held fast.

Daughter of noble race,
Anointed Queen of Spain,

In her unsheltered face
Dashed the unpitying rain.

By the fierce sun opprest

She sought no green, soft nook, —
She laid her down to rest

Beside no babbling brook.

Straight on through day and night
She held her lonely way,

For whom no fresh delight
Could spring, by night or day.

Through sad Life’s loss and pain
She loved, whom Love forgot,
Till Death restored again
‘Her lord who loved her not.

To Tordesillas-height
She bore her dead so dear,
And there, by day and night, ©
Watched still beside his bier.

Till forty-seven long years
Of watching and despair,
Of weariness and tears,
Had found and left her there;

And then, grown old and gray,
Feeble and scant of breath,

The mad Queen passed away
To the vast realm of Death.












THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE, 47

Found she her own again?

Did he who worked her woe
Reward her life’s long pain

With bliss that none can know ?

The lips of Death are dumb,
The answer who can tell ?
No news shall ever come
If they be ill or well.

“Juana watched by the dead body of Philippe le Bel (or Philip the
Beautiful) for forty-seven years. Kingdoms rose and fell ; her son ascen-
ded the throne of the world; the new world uncovered its wonders: the
grandest events of history passed, but she heeded not any event. Her .
heart was in that one golden coffin, faithful to a heart that had never
been faithful to her. Her life fed on the dream of how happy she
might have been had this man only loved her. In this dream of what
might have been she died, withered and old.

“There are some events in the life of Juana that are among the
most curious in history. In her watch by the dead for nearly fifty
years, she was in matters of state a queen, and her name appeared on
all great state papers. |

“Again, the Spanish people so loved her as the daughter of
Isabella, and as one who had been cruelly wronged in her affections,
that they reverenced her both as a woman and queen, although she
seems to have taken little notice of this touching loyalty, and was
apparently indifferent to it. She seemed to care only to be known
as one whose heart died with her great love, and was buried in the
shadows of her sorrow.

“ And again, — what a subject for a poem or for the painter’s art |
— it was at the time of her death, that Charles V., her son, the great
and terrible Emperor, resolved to resign the thrones of the world for
a cloister. The two in reality went out of history at nearly the same
time, both of them weary of the world and all of its affairs.”

a
48 : ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“This is one of the strangest stories I have ever heard,” said
Arthur. “Did Charles V. sympathize with his mother?”

“She was as if dead to him. He feared her malady, and he used to
pray that he might never lose his reason. His last days were full of
the bigotry of a misled conscience, of sincere piety, and of most pic-
turesque and dramatic incidents. You may read it all in Robertson’s

! A







Kit A
i wu
AE Zz

Ms

ny

ue



OE
un “

SH

ABDICATION OF CHARLES V.

Charles V. There are few things more unfortunate in religion than a
morbid mind; and the church has had to suffer for the mental clouds
of these royal people in such a way as almost to dim the glory of
Isabella.”

“T am glad that Columbus remembered Juana in the days of
triumph,” said Arthur.
THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 49

“T always thought his tribute to Juana was one of the beautiful
incidents of life,” said Mrs. Green.

“In the royal tombs of Granada,” she continued, “sleep Ferdi-
nand and Isabella, and beside them the bodies of Philippe le Bel and
poor Juana, his unhappy wife; all beyond the reach of glory or
passion or sorrow. I would like to visit these tombs.”

“We shall visit the tomb of Columbus at Havana?” said Arthur.

“Yes; we hope to do so.”

“IT shall think of Juana there. Will you not?”

“Yes, my dear Arthur.”

The story of Juana, or Joanna, greatly interested Arthur in the
studies of the club, One evening when the romances of Inez de
Castro and Bernardo del Carpio had been related in the class, Mr.
Green, the teacher, said: “ The great Spanish romance, which is likely
to become the representative legend of America, is the vision of
Ponce de Leon.” He added: “ All nations have some great legend
which represents the spirit of their history. In Germany it is the
Rheingold, which Wagner has made eternal by his heroic music; in
England it is King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, or
the search for the Holy Grail. It was so with Greece in the tale
of the Argonauts, and with Rome in the voyages of Afneas. The story
of Joseph is the spiritual prophecy of the Jews, and that of Buddha and
the Bo-tree, of the Hindus.

“The legend of Ponce de Leon represents the struggle of the
soul for larger knowledge and higher attainment, of the dreams of
the dead finding the real. That is America. It is the most beautiful
allegory of America’s life and mission.

“ Already the legend is beginning to take form. It has been put
into solid art in the palace hotel at St. Augustine. Poetry and music
will follow in its development as in the legends of old.”

4
50 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“T hope that we may visit Porto Rico,” said Miss Green. “ That
was the scene of Ponce de Leon’s visions, was it not?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Diaz; “and there are many romantic incidents
associated with the legend that are not well known. I will try to
relate them at some future meeting of the club. If possible we musi
visit Porto Rico, the most beautiful of the Antilles, a part of our
journey.”

Mr. Diaz had interested the class. At a meeting held a few
weeks after this introduction of the legend, he related the following
story :— :

AMERICA’S GREAT LEGEND; OR, THE ROMANCE OF PONCE
. DE LEON.

Ponce DE Leon! was a page in the Court of Spain, in the days |
of the rise of Ferdinand and Isabella. Among the wonder tales of |
his youth were the wars of Granada, and later the expulsion of the
Moors. The boy page had an active imagination ; it is said that he —
was an attendant of a prince, and afterward a secretary or page of an _
officer of rank and influence. He was in hearing of all the exciting y
news of the times as he grew to manhood: he became a soldier, and
won fame in the Conquest of Granada; and the triumphs of Colum. |
bus filled his soul with a desire to visit the lands beyond the sea.

In the year 1493 he set sail with Columbus from the port of Cadiz
for the Western World. The fleet consisted of seventeen ships and —
fifteen hundred men. The expedition is known as the second voyage —
of Columbus. It was on this voyage that Columbus discovered _
Jamaica and the Caribbean Islands, and that the whilom page first :
saw those green paradises of the purple seas to which he was destined
to return as governor, and thence to be led by his poetic and pro-
phetic dreams to find the solid land of the continent of America.

| Pronounced Pon’tha da Lay-on’.




THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 51

Ponce de Leon, although he was a poet, was a brave and valorous
man, and excelled in the arts of war as well as of peace. The world
has had some imaginative warriors; he was one, and what he saw in
his dreams he executed in his active life. He saw the palmy islands
about Hispaniola, and obtained permission from Governor Ovando to
lead an expedition to them in search of gold.

He sailed away with Spaniards, Indians, and interpreters, his hori-
zon full of golden visions. Nor was he disappointed. The cacique
of one of the islands led him to a river whose crystal waters ran over
stones and pebbles that were veined with gold, and Ponce returned to
Hispaniola a happy man. :

Happy? But what would be the use of rivers paved with gold, if
death were close at hand? Here were islands like paradises; the air
seemed celestial; birds sang all the day, and flowers carpeted the
earth. Here the soil supported the inhabitants; bread grew on the
trees, and fountains sang in the shadows. Here people lived to love
each other. They had an eternal father in the sun which provided
them with all things. Why should they die here?

In 1509 Ponce de Leon was appointed Governor of Porto Rico,
the land of the golden rivers; and but for the shadow of the thought
of death, his happiness would have been complete, An earthly para-
dise, honors, gold, and everything but a promise of continued exist-
ence! He subdued the Indians, and began to rule right royally.

The Indians at first thought that the Spaniards were as immortal
as they desired to be. But after a time they began to doubt the fair
gods’ immortality. One of them resolved to test his doubt by drop-
ping a Spaniard whom he was carrying over a river into the water,
and allowing him to drown. He put his plan into execution; and the
body of: the drowned Spaniard did not revive, althotgh the Indian
watched it for three days.

“ Mortal like us,” said the Indians. Then the caciques combined
and waged war against the Spaniards, and the golden realm of Ponce
52 he ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

de Leon was as unquiet as other’ places of the earth where human
passions rule and the law of equal right is disregarded.

The Indians burned his villages, and drove him into a fortress,
and held him a virtual prisoner. He was however reinforced from
Hispaniola, when the Indians thought that the Spaniards whom they
had killed had come to life again, and the belief in the immortality of
the people “from the skies ” was revived.

In the midst of his troubles and altered fortunes, Ponce de Leon
was relieved of his position as Governor, or Adelantado, by the king.

He was now greatly depressed. In this state of mind he one day
met some venerable Indians whom he regarded as prophetic mes-
sengers. He questioned about other islands of gold.

They pointed to the north.

“ The land abounds with gold?”

« The rivers are gold.”

“ What else is there?”

“Everything that the sun can give.” They added: “ The people
there live forever.” :

“How?”

“ They drink of a river, and the water is life.”

Here indeed was the land of all his dreams. He was yet rich,
and he would fit out a new expedition, and would set his white
sails towards the north.

It is said that the Cavalier, although not old, had begun to lose
his early beauty. It is also said that he had met a lovely Italian girl,
for whose sake he wished that he might become young again.

He further questioned the prophetic Indians. They told him that
there was an island, named Bimini, lying far out in the sea, which
also had a wonderful fountain, and that those who drank of this foun-
tain became young again, and remained so forever.

This was all that he could desire. The withering stalk of life
would bloom again. His spring of years would be brought back.


THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 53

He could love again, wed again, and never find his mind clouded
again with any fear of disease or death.

And so the happy mariner sailed away, but returned to Porto
Rico with more wrinkles and gray hair than before. He had seen
Florida, and searched in vain for the fountain. But the dream stil]
haunted him. He repaired to Spain, and was made Governor of Florida,
Bimini, and the realms of his imagination when he should find them.

He found them, — beautiful Florida again in this world, and a
poisoned arrow there which ended his search, after a brief fever, and .
gave him immortality in a better world than this.

Nor will his name die here. The world will never forget that
beautiful Palm Sunday when he landed in Florida, and praised God
under the blooming trees, near the present poetic town of St.
Augustine.

America has only one city that is a poem, and that is an eternal
monument to the poetic soul of the old Cavalier.

There is a legend that associates Silver Springs, Florida, with the
search of Ponce de Leon. A more thrilling legend connects the
Waukulla Spring, near the old Magnolia River, with the experiments
of the fanciful explorers.

The popular legend of the trial of the rejuvenating waters is so
poetic and tragic that I have endeavored to express it in verse.

THE LEGEND OF WAUKULLA.

THROUGH darkening pines the cavaliers marched on their sunset way,
While crimson in the trade-winds rolled far Appalachee Bay,
Above the water-levels rose palmetto crowns like ghosts
Of kings primeval; them behind, the shadowy pines in hosts.
“O cacique, brave and trusty guide,
Are we not near the spring,
The fountain of eternal youth, that health to age doth bring ?’
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“* The fount is fair,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.’’














54

ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“But vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never youth’s departed days come back to age again ;
The future in the spirit lies, and earthly life is brief,
’T is you that say the fount hath life,” so said the Indian chief.
“ Nay, Indian king; nay, Indian king,
Thou knowest well the spring,
And thou shalt die if thou dost fail our feet to it to bring.”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is bright,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

- Then said the guide: “O men of Spain, a wondrous fountain flows

From deep abodes of gods below, and health on men bestows.
Blue are its deeps and green its walls, and from its waters gleam
The water-stars, and from it runs the pure Waukulla’s stream.
But, men of Spain, but, men of Spain,
°T is you who say that spring
Eternal youth and happiness to men again will bring.”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The fount is clear,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

“ March on, the land enchanted is ; march on, ye men of Spain ;
Who would not taste the bliss of youth and all its hopes again.
Enchanted is the land; behold! enchanted is the air ;
The very heaven is domed with gold; there’s beauty everywhere !”
So said De Leon. ‘ Cavaliers,
We're marching to the spring,
The fountain of eternal youth; that health to age will bring!”’
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is pure,
: Waukiulla !
By the old Magnolia River.”

Beneath the pines, beneath the yews, the deep magnolia shades,
The clear Waukulla swift pursues its way through floral glades ;
Beneath the pines, beneath the yews, beneath night’s falling shade,
Beneath the low and dusky moon still marched the cavalcade.

“ The river widens,” said the men;

“ Are we not near the spring,


THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. a5

The fountain of eternal youth that health to age doth bring ?”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is near,
Waukulla!
On the old Magnolia River.” :

“The fount is fair and bright and clear, and pure its waters run ;
Waukulla, lovely in the moon and beauteous in the sun.
But vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never youth’s departed days come back to man again,
, O men of Spain! O men of Spain!
*T is you that say the spring
Eternal youth and happiness to withered years will bring!”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is deep,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

The river to a grotto led, as to a god’s abode ;
There lay the fountain bright with stars ; stars in its waters flowed;
The mighty live-oaks round it rose, in ancient mosses clad.
De Leon’s heart beat high for joy ; the cavaliers were glad,
‘*O men of Spain! O men of Spain!
This surely is the spring,
The fountain fair that health and joy to faces old doth bring !”
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“ The spring is old,
Waukulla !
On the old Magnolia River.”

“ Avalia, O my trusty friend, that we this day should see !
Strip off thy doublet and descend the glowing fount with me!”
“The saints! I will,’? Avalla said. “ Already young I feel,
And younger than my sons shall I return to old-Castile.”’
Then plunged De Leon in the spring,
And then Avalla old ;
Then slowly rose each wrinkled face above the waters cold.
The cacique sighed,
And Indian guide,
“The fount is yours,
Waukulla!
By the old Magnolia River.”’
556 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Oh, vainly to the blossomed flower will come the autumn rain,
And never yonth’s departed days come back to man again;
The crowns Castilian could not bring the withered stalk a leaf ;
But came a sabre flash that morn, and fell the Indian chief.
Another sabre flash, and then
The guide beside him lay,
And red the clear Magnolia ran toward Appalachee Bay.
Then from the dead
The Spaniards fled,
And cursed the spring,
Waukulla,
And the old Magnolia River.

“ Like comrades life was left behind, the years shall o’er me roll,
For all the hope that man can find lies hidden in the soul.
Ye white sails lift, and drift again across the southern main ;
There wait for me, there wait us all, the hollow tombs of Spain!”
Beneath the liquid stars the sails
Arose and went their way,
And bore the gray-haired cavaliers from Appalachee Bay.
The young chiefs slept,
And maidens wept,
Beside the bright
Waukulla,
On the old Magnolia River !

This is tradition and fancy. Let us return to some interesting
facts associated with this beautiful story.

Puerto Rico, or Porto Rico, is the tomb of Ponce de Leon. The
port of Ponce still bears the name of the romantic cavalier. |

His tomb bears an heroic inscription : —

“ Here rest the bones of a man who was a Leon by name, and still more by nature.”

*¢ Mole sub hac fortis requiescat ossa Leon
Qui vicit factis nomina magna suis.”

Ponce de Leon was a religious man after the crude teachings of
the times in which he lived.

In February, 1521, he thus wrote to Charles V., the son of
Juana, who was then in the beginning of his reign : —


THE EVER FAITHFUL ISLE. 57

“T discovered at my own cost and charge the Island of Florida : ; and now I
return to that island, if it please God’s will, to settle it, that the name of Christ
may be praised there.”

The language is a picture of the heart of the man. Like Colum-
bus, he regarded himself as under divine direction. There was much
of the prophet as well as the poet in his soul.

The date of his birth is uncertain. It has been placed at 1560.
He is said to have been employed as a page to the infant Ferdinand,
who was born in 1552. If this be true, and if he was brought up in the
Court of Aragon, his boyhood must have been as poetic as his old age.
He is spoken of as being old when he went in search of the Fountain
of Youth. This.is usually done to meet the poetic requirements of
the great legend. He was really in the prime of life at the jime.
He died at about the age of sixty, in the early afternoon of manhood.

If his boyhood was passed in the Court of Ferdinand V., the
famous Ferdinand of the years of the Conquest of Granada and the
Great Discovery, who in marriage wedded his kingdom to Castile
and shared the ‘glory of Isabella, he must have been schooled in the
high art of the times, and in the romances of the minstrels and trouba-
dours. The cities of Spain, and especially those of Cordova, Granada,
and Barcelona, were devoted to literature, art, and music. Prescott
describes the Floral Academy which was endowed by the Kings of
Nugon, and which was situated at Barcelona. It was a school of
poetry and music.

“The topics of discussion,” says Prescott, “ were the praises of the
Virgin, love, arms, and other good usages. The performances of the
candidates were inscribed on parchments of various colors, richly
enamelled with silver and gold, and beautifully illuminated. The
poems were publicly recited by the poets, and then referred to a com-
mittee, who took a solemn oath to decide upon their merits after the
rules of art. On the delivery of their verdict, a wreath of gold was
placed upon the victorious poem, and the troubadour was escorted to
58 ‘ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

the royal palace amid a cortege of minstrelsy and chivalry; thus,
according to an old chronicler, “ manifesting to the world the supe-
riority which God and Nature have assigned to genius.”

Such is a glowing picture of literature and art in Aragon in the
young days of Ferdinand, and his boy page, Ponce de Leon.
CHAPTER YV.
ARTHUR.

] HE Greens lived in one of the beautiful villages in
the Berkshire Hills, famous for character and intelli-
gence. Among the neighboring towns was Pitts-
field, of literary reputation, and Lenox, the autumn
Newport, famous for its scenic beauty at the time of
the falling leaves. Greylock is the dome of the
hills in this charming region which has produced noble men and



women for many generations.

Mr. Green was a graduate of Williams College, and a man of liter-
ary tastes, and was connected’ with a prosperous publishing-house in
Boston. Mrs. Green was a woman of culture and quiet, refined tastes,
and had a keen sense of humor. She was a good story-teller, for her
humor enabled her to present insincerity in its true light, and her high
moral sense to make what is good and true appear in its rightful color-
ing. Mr. and Mrs. Green had taken great pains in the mental train-
ing of their son, and had selected his reading with care.

“The young mind feeds on what it reads,” Mr. Green used to say,
“and forms its character by it. Tell me what a boy likes most to read
and I will give you his true character and forecast his future. And,”
he used to add with emphasis, “ there is nothing that so forms youth-
ful character as short stories.”

Mr. Green saw the influence of short-story reading as a means of
mental and moral education, and used to speak of it often among his
friends.
60 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI

He was a member of the School Board, and used to read: papers on
literary topics before the “High School; and one of these gave his
views on the short story as a means of unconscious education. As
the short stories of Mr. and Mrs. Green will form a large part of this
volume, we give Mr. Green’s views as presented in this paper : —

SHORT STORIES AND SHORT-STORY WRITING.

THE short story is the leading literary event of the day; the parable and
popular feature of the times. The most acceptable short story is that which in
some way interprets the times. This kind of story is criticised as an evidence
of literary degeneracy, but wherein does it differ from the best and most lasting
models of the past? The stories of Joseph and Ruth and of the Talmud will
forever interpret the spirit of the Hebrew race; the ‘Arabian Nights” stand
for the vanished thrones and courts of the Orient; the stories of the Golden
Fleece, of Plutarch’s heroes, and of the death of Socrates are a spiritual map of
Greece; the “Rheingold” interprets Germany in her long struggles of the
New against the Old; and the spiritual history of England from Chaucer to
Dickens may be best read in short stories and ballads — which are short stories
in rhyme—which sympathetic interpretation has made immortal. Short
stories are not only the interpreters of history and the soul, but of the spirit of
the ages in all their seasons. And is it to be regretted that American writing
should have taken this form, amid the progress and activities of the times, when
the sun of our history is leaving the horizon?’

Before the Christian era, Horace in his “ De Arte Poetica” thus gave the
secret of the most popular and enduring methods of writing: ‘‘He that hath
blent the useful with the agreeable hath carried every vote. His book crosses
the sea: it will enrich the Socii, and win for him imperishable fame.” It is
the story that makes what is useful agreeable that best meets the wants of life.
“He is a genius,” said Emerson, “ who gives me back my own thoughts.” He
who can well say what others think becomes a voice of the times, and a brother
to all men. The Great Teacher of life himself made use of these methods.
The Gospel of Luke is a book of short stories. The story of the Holy Grail
will forever interpret the knighthood of England, and that of Ponce de Leon
the spirit of the American student.

America has as yet produced not many short ere “that promise to live.
Of those that seem likely to become representative, the best are in verse. I
‘ ARTHUR. 61

was recently asked by a student what I thought to be the most beautiful short
story ever written. I replied, ‘That of Joseph in the Hebrew Scriptures.” I
was asked again what I regarded as the best short story in American literature.
I answered, “ Evangeline;” but received the correction, the “ Legend of Sir
Launfal.” I have heard Baron Fouqué’s “ Undine” named as the most beauti-
ful of all short stories of the creative imagination. It might be a good exercise
for literary societies to debate and analyze these questions, and the answers that
they would be likely to receive: What is the most beautiful story in all the
world? What is the best in American books?

Among the representative short stories in our literature before the present
time of interpretative story-writing we may cite Irving’s “ Rip Van Winkle,”
Poe's “ Gold Bug,” Hawthorne’s “ Province House Stories,’ Harriet Prescott :
Spofford’s ‘* Amber Gods,” Fitz-James O’Brien’s “Diamond Lens,” Edward
Everett Hale’s “Man without a Country,” and Bret Harte’s “ Luck of Roaring
Camp.” ;

All writers should be familiar with these models, but they seem to have
been but early stars in our Western sky. Within a few years short-story
writers have appeared in nearly every section of our country as the interpre-
ters of the genius of the places where they lived or of the spirit and progress of
the times. Ten years ago a book of short stories could hardly find a publisher;
now it is the current reading.

The popular short story takes three leading forms, —that which seeks to
interpret the times, which is in some way a parable; the folk-lore picture; and
psychological analysis. Of these the form that deals with the spirit and ten-

encies of current events seems to be the principal in interest, though the most
short-lived of all. :

The revival of interest in village stories, old neighborhood events, home
tales, and the dialect and methods of the old natural story-tellers must be
regarded as one of the instructive methods of the times. These stories, which
follow the models of Sir Walter Scott’s “ Tales of a Grandfather” and Haw-
thorne’s ‘‘ Grandfather’s Chair,” are becoming the conservators of the incidental
part of our history. Incidents are the soul-expression of events. Grimm’s
“Fairy Tales” are the household history of Germany. The soul of a town
lives in its popular story. The time has come to collect the best stories of our
own land, and to give them permanent form, as has been done in part by Mr.
Harris, Mr. Cable, Bret Harte, and Miss Wilkins. Every State in the Union
may have its Hans Christian Andersen. Tales of colonial houses and farms, and
of Southern plantations; strange Indian fancies; old French legends of the rez-
contres ; pioneer cabin lore; yarns of ships and sailors; and the humorous and

e
62 _ ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

remarkable events of neighborhoods and villages, — all this varied material may
now well begin to engage the pen, and will be likely to prove historically instruc-
tive. Our history is mellowing for such work, for the charm of such stories is
the gay in gray garments of the past.

The psychological story, as a rule, is the highest form of art, and, like
‘“‘Rasselas,” “Undine,” and “Rip Van Winkle,” is likely to prove the most
enduring. There are fewer stories of this kind than of the others which are
now being produced. This may indicate a material tendency of the age. In
the Hebrew Talmud nearly all of the short stories relate to spiritual events, for
such thoughts filled the minds of the people. The genius of the nation was
spiritual, as that of Germany is metaphysical. But such writers of short stories
as Mrs. Phelps-Ward still hold the interest of the best minds, and easily lead
all others in dealing in jewels and interpreting what is best in life.

Will the old emotional love-story in the form of the three volumes ever
’ come back again? I hope not. The most enduring parables of life are short,
and these models of the past are the best for all time. Read Horace’s “‘De
Arte Poetica” for the first principles of literary art, in all of its forms. The
old Apulian poet, after giving to the world that brief poem of direction, left
but little for any one to say. “He that hath blent the useful with the agree-
able hath carried every vote.” The most agreeable form of literary teaching in
our times and country has become the short story, and we see no reason to
criticise it, to disparage its mission, or to regret its advent. We would rather
welcome it as the good genius of our hearts, hearths, and homes.

There was a Village Improvement Society in the town, and this
had once engaged the activities of our young people of the Spanish
Class. The society gave entertainments, beautified old historic
places, set out trees in public ways, made a flower-garden of the
public-school yard, purchased pictures for the town hall, and caused
portraits of worthy citizens to be placed there. The work was
patriotic and educational, and the Spanish Class grew out of this
progressive training. The members of the class were still members
of the Improvement Society.

One of the purposes of the society was the collection of Village
Folk Lore. Mrs. Green had been a very useful member in this
department of literary work. Every village has traditions and
ARTHUR. 63

stories that pass on from one generation to another because of
their wit or worth. They are much like Grimms « Household Tales
of Germany.” The society collected these tales from the old story-
tellers. Mrs. Green supplied a number of. such stories, chiefly
traditions of the Battle of Bennington, of Elder John Leland, and
the marvellous stories of the Great Cheshire Cheese.

There was one story which Mr. Green used to relate that he
was often asked to repeat. It had some very curious points and
picturings. As an illustration of the stories of this tradition-loving
family, we will give this story here: —

THE GHOST OF GREYLOCK.

IT was a clear evening late in December. I recall it well, though I was a
boy then. A gold star was shining in the fading crimson over the old New
England town near Greylock like a lamp in a chapel window. The woodland
pastures were purple with gentians, red with cranberries, and yellow with frost-
smitten ferns. The still air echoed from the russet hills the call of the chore-

boy. The wains were rumbling home on the leafless country-roads. Stacks’ —

of corn-husks were rising here and there, after late hours’ husking; and now
and then a supper-horn was blown from the door of some red farmhouses
among the orchards, far and near.

Over the country-road, between the sunset and moonrise, John Ladd, a
farmer boy, was driving home a team of pumpkins and shocks of stalks.
These stalks were cut late in summer, and gathered into small bundles. The
bundles were themselves gathered into shocks, and these shocks were so tied
as to form a compact body about five or six feet high. A shock of stalks in
the evening. resembled the form of a woman, or the old-fashioned costume of
a lady in short waist and large hoops.

In bringing home the pumpkins from the fields of corn in which they
commonly grew, it was a custom to load a few shocks of stalks upon them,
and to cover the pumpkins with them in the barn cellar, or on the barn floor,
as a protection from the cold.

Johnny Ladd had learned a new tune, a very popular one at that time, and
he was one of those persons who are haunted by the musical ear, Everybody
_ Was singing this new tune. The tune was called, “ There’s a sound going forth
64 . ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

from the mulberry-trees,” and the words were very mysterious and sublime,
being taken, in part, from the inspirations of the old Hebrew poets.
Johnny made the old woods ring with the new tune, —

“What joyful sound is this I hear, ,
Fresh from the mulberry tops!”

‘A new tune turns the head of an impressionist, especially when associated
with such grand, poetic images as these; and while Johnny’s voice was being
echoed by old Greylock, the boy lost his sense of sublunary things, and one of
the bundles of stalks tumbled off of the load and landed in the middle of the
road without his notice, and stood there upright, looking like the form of a
woman at a little distance away in the dark. In slipping from the load the
shock had bent a few sheaves upward on one side; so it presented the appear-
ance of a woman with her arm raised as a gesture of warning.

The cart rumbled on with its singing young driver, leaving this ominous
figure in the middle of the road at, the very top of the hill.

Many of the old towns used to have a poor, homeless dog, — “ nobody’s

dog,” or dog vagrant, —a cur that farm-hands “ shooed,” boys stoned, women

avoided, and no one owned or cared to own. Cheshire had such a dog; he
used to steal bones from back-yards, and sleep under haystacks and shocks
of stalks, and run out of these with his tail curled under him when he heard
jany one approaching, This dog came trotting along the road, soon after the
'shock of stalks had been left behind, and thinking that the shock would be
a good cover for the night, crawled into it, curled up, and probably went to
sleep. -

The shock was left on smooth, shelving ground, and could slip about easily ;
and whenever the dog moved the shock moved, waving its eee: hand in a
very mysterious manner.

Now just beyond this animated effigy on the top of the hill, was a grave-
yard, and in it a year before had been buried an old woman who had been
found dead sitting in her chair. Her grave had been visited by a local poet,
who had written for her gravestone the following biographical epitaph: —

“ As I was sitting in my chair,
Busy about my worldly care,
In one brief‘ moment I fell dead,
And to this place J was conveyed.”

Such was the animated corn-shock, and the peculiar condition of affairs
on the top of the hill, when a party of philosophical jokers met to pass the
evening in the big travellers’ room of the “ Half-Way Inn.”
ARTHUR, 65

This inn was kept by Freelove Mason, a buxom hostess whose name was
familiar to every traveller between Boston and Albany in the pastoral days of
the old New England stage-coach. She was a famous cook, like Julien, of the
good-living Boston inn, whose name still lives in soups, and often heads the
appetizing list on menus.

The gray-coated old stage-drivers used to toot their horns on approaching
the elm-shaded valley of Cheshire, as a signal to Freelove to have the after-
noon dinner hot on the table when the coach should stop under the swinging
sign between’ the steeple-like trees.

What stages they were, with their heavy wheels and flexible leather gearing!
They were painted green and yellow, with sign letters in red, and the State of
Massachusetts coat-of-arms or other seal on the door. The middle seat was
supplied with a broad leather band for a back, which was unhooked while the
passengers of the back seat found their places. The driver’s seat was high and
grand, with a black leather boot under which were placed the mail-bags, and
a dog that had been well educated in the school of growls, and that was sure
to check any impertinent curiosity in the conscientious exercise of his office.
A tall whip cut the air above the seat, protruding out of a round pocket near
the one high step. A tally-ho horn found a place between the driver's legs;
and when it was lifted into the air, its blast caused the dogs to drop their tails,
and the hares to prick up their ears, and the partridges to whir away, and the
farm hands to take breath amid their work. .

It was an important hour in Cheshire when the grand Boston coach dashed
up between the two great Lombardy poplars, and stopped at the horse-block
in front of the Half-Way Inn. Dogs barked, children ran, and women’s faces
filled the windows among the morning-glory vines. At the open door stood
Freelove always, on these occasions, her face beaming, her cap border bobbing,
and her heart overflowing, and seeming to meet in every guest a long-lost sister
or brother. She knew how to runa hotel; and nothing but prosperity attended
her long and memorable administration.

On this notable evening of which I speak, the principal characters were
Judge Smart, Billy Brown — or “ Sweet Billy,” as he was called, an odd genius.
who was the “Sam Lawson” of the Berkshire Hills — Cameralsman, the stage-
driver, and Blingo, the blacksmith. I can see the very group’ now, as when a
boy. They were joined by Freelove herself, early in the evening, who brought
her knitting, and was eager to discuss the latest marvel of the newspaperless
times, and to add the wisdom of her moral reflections upon it. She prefaced
the remarks which she wished to make emphatically — and they were frequent
—with the word “Lordy,” almost profane in its suggestions, but not ill-inten-

5






66 | ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

tioned by her. It was a common exclamation of surprise in the old county
towns,

The short, red twilight had been followed by light gusts of night winds,
whirling leaves, passing like an unseen traveller, leaving silence behind.
Shutters creaked, and clouds flew hurriedly along the sky over the sparkling
courses of the stars.

The conversation of the evening turned on the old topic, — Were there ever
haunted places? Judge Smart and Blingo, the blacksmith, were of the opinion
that there were no trustworthy evidences of supernatural manifestations to
human eyes and ears, and it required great moral courage at this time to call
in question the traditional philosophy of the old Colony teachers and wonder

‘tales.

“There is no evidence whatever that there ever was a haunted place in this
country or anywhere else, and I do not believe that any one ever knew such a
place except in his imagination, not even Cotton Mather himself, or that any
one ever will.

««¢ With those who think that there are witches,
There the witches are;
With those who think there are no witches, -
Witches are not there.’”

So said Blingo, the blacksmith.

Freelove started, but only said, “Lordy!” in a deep contralto voice. Was
it possible that such heresy as this had been uttered in the great room of her
tavern? A tavern without a haunted room or some like mystery would be just
a tavern; no more to be respected than an ordinary! She let down her knit-
ting-work into her lap in a very deliberate way, and sat silent. Then she said
most vigorously to Blingo, the blacksmith, —

“So you have become of the opinion of the Judge and the stage-driver?
Look here, Blingo, I should think that you would be afraid to doubt such
things. I should. I should be afraid that something awful would follow me,
and whoop down vengeance on me, like an old-fashioned hurricane, —I should.
Mercy me, hear the wind howl! There it comes again. Lordy!”

The great sign creaked, and a loose shutter rattled, and a shutter banged. ©

“ Blingo, you may be an honest-meaning man, but don’t you invite evil upon
this house. IJ—”

“My good woman, don’t you worry. I just want to ask you one question:
If ghosts cry and shriek, as you say they do, they can also zalk, can’t they,
now? Say?”
ARTHUR. 67

“T suppose so.”

“Well; why don’t they do it then, and tell what they want, honest-like?
There, now!”

‘There came another rush of wind and leaves, and many rattling noises.
Freelove seemed to have an impression that she was called on to vindicate
the invisible world in some way so as to sustain the most friendly relations
to it.

Sweet Billy Brown, the Cheshire joker, came to her assistance in a very
startling and unexpected manner, after one or two more ominous bangs of a
shutter. How odd he looked; his face red with the fire, and his eyes full of
roguery! 3

“Freelove,” said he, with lifted eyebrows and wide mouth, — “ Freelove,
these are solemn times for poor, unthinking mortals to make such declara-
tions as these. Winds are blowin’, and winders are rattlin’, and shutters are
bangin’, and what not. Hist! Just you listen now.”

He gave me a curious wink, as much as to say, “ Now watch for a rare
joke.” ,

“Did you know that old woman, she what died last year, come November,
come the 12th, sitting in her chair, bolt upright—so?” Billy straightened up
like a statue. ‘“ Did you know what she answered? She answered some boys
what was a-whortelberryin’ in her graveyard! ”

“Answered?” said Freelove, with a bob of her cap-border. “ Answered?
Lordy! Did you say answered?”

“Mercy me! Yes, answered. ’Twas all mighty curious and mysterious
like. Them boys they just hollered right out there, up in that old, briery,
burying graveyard on the windy hill, ‘Old woman, old woman, what did you
die of?’ And the old woman answered — nothin’ at all.”

Billy gave me another peculiar look.

“Lordy! Did she? I always knew it was so. Nothing ailed her; she
had just got through.”

“But I have n’t; that isn’t all. I have somethin’ more to tell, — somethin’
to make your hair stand on end, as Shakspeare says.”

Freelove felt of her wig.

“One night in October,” continued Sweet Billy, “a certain young man
that I might name was passing that place with his girl, and he told the girl, as
they were passing, what answer the old woman had made to the whortelberryin’
boys in her graveyard. And she says, says she, ‘I dast to ask that question; ’
and she went up to the wall, she did, and says she, says she, mighty pert and
chipper-like, says she, ‘Old woman, old woman, what did you die of?’ and








68 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

just as true as I am sittin’ here, and the wind is blowin’, and the shutters are
bangin’, the old woman answered, just as she did before — nothin’ at all!”

Freelove’s cap gave another bob, and she said, “ L-o-r-d-y!” when Sweet
Billy continued : —

“And I, — yes, I ventured to ask her the same question one night when I
was passin’, and I, true as preachin’, got the same answer myself, — nothin’
at all. You may believe it or not, — there, now.”

Freelove sat like a pictured woman in a pictured chair.

“JT have always heard that that old graveyard was haunted,” said she at
last. “Now let us be perfectly honest and sincere with each other. You
three men say that there is no such thing as the appearance of spirits to living
people. That is so. If you, Judge Smart, and you, Cameralsman, and you,
Blingo, will go to-night up to the top. of that hill and say those identical words,
I will give you all a hot supper when you return. It is in the brick oven now.
People have seen strange things there for forty years. Here is a test for yous
There, now! You’ve all got ears and eyes. Will you go?”

“T will,” said the Judge. “I wouldn't think any more of doing a thing
like that than I would of going to the wood- pile and speaking to the chop-
ping-block.”

“Nor I,” said Cameralsman.

“Nor J,” said Blingo.

“Well, go,” said Freelove; “but promise me that if you should see any-
thing all in white, or if the old woman answers you as she did the others, you
will believe these ghost stories to be true.”

“ Yes,” said the Judge, the stage-driver, and the blacksmith, all in chorus.

There was a shout of laughter, and a swinging of arms and putting on of
overcoats ; and the three men banged the door behind them, and turned merrily
toward the hill road, thinking only of the hot supper they would have on their
return. A December supper out of an old brick oven in the prosperous days
‘of the Cheshire farmers was no common meal.

I followed them. I thought I saw the double sense of Sweet Billy’s words,
and I was full of wonder at his boldness. The old graveyard had borne a very
doubtful reputation for nearly a generation, but Billy’s joke furnished a new
horror to the place of dark imaginations.

It was a bright, gusty December night. The moon was rising like an even-
ing stin behind the great skeletons of oaks on the high hill. Now and then
came a gust of wind breaking the chestnut burrs, and dropping down showers
of chestnuts. The frosts were gathering and glimmering over the pastures.

Billy Brown was specially happy over his joke, and the play upon words










































































































































































































































































































































THE GHOST OF GREYLOCK.

































ARTHUR. WI

in the old woman’s supposed answer. He had told the story in such a realistic
. way and tone that no one had seen the point of it, which is at once obvious in
print. The Judge had a very strong feeling of self-sufficiency.

“T would not engage in this foolishness but for the supper,” said he.
“ «Three wise men of Gotham went to sea in a bowl!’”

“Nor I,” said Cameralsman. ‘I would hate to be quoted all over the
town as having made such scatter-brains of myself. The people would all be
laughing at me, and if there is anything that I can’t endure it is to be laughed
at. There are men who face battles that cannot stand a joke. I have seen
stormy weather on the old roads, but my legs would fly like drumsticks in a
cannonade, before the giggle of a girl. People are governed by their imagina-
tions, and that makes us all a strange lot of critters.”

After these sage remarks we stubbed along the moonlit road, the Judge
leading. Once he stopped and said, ‘‘ What fools we all are!” repeating Puck’s
view of the human species.

“That’s so,” said Cameralsman.

“You'll feel as full of wisdom as old King Solomon,” said Billy, the joker.
“Vou will, now, when you hear that answer comin’ up from the bowels of the
earth, without any head or tongue or body, or nothin’.”

The three men laughed.

A white rabbit ran across the road. We all stopped. White! Was it a
sign? Our imaginations began to be active, and to create strange pictures
and resemblances. . There followed the white streaks of the rabbit a gust of
wind, overturning beds of leaves. I was so excited that my forehead was wet
with perspiration.

“Cracky! There’s somethin’ strange somewhere. I can feel it in the air,”
said Billy. ‘“ My -+two eyes! What is that?”

We. all stopped. The moon was rising over the oaks and pines, and on
the top of the hill stood what looked to us all like the figure of a woman with
an arm raised, mysterious and silent, as in warning.

Under ordinary circumstances we would have seen there simply a shock of
stalks. But our imaginations were excited, and we were in doubt.

“It’s the old woman herself,” said Cameralsman.

“ Come out to meét us,” said the Judge, sarcastically.

“Cracky, if I don’t believe it is,” said Billy, with bending form and staring
eyes.

“Judge?”

“ What, Billy?”

“ That was a joke.”
72 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE. MISSISSIPPI.

“ What?”

‘Wot Isaid about the old woman, and that she would answer nothin’ at
all. But the graveyard zs haunted. I’ve heard so a hundred times.”

“Well, that figure is no joke, as you can see. But it is up there that we
shall have to go, and you too, Billy.”

“Oh, Judge, not now that I told you it was all a joke.”

“ But you must, Billy.”

“Why?”

“Do you want to be laughed at as a coward?”

There was a movement of the figure.

“Oh, Judge, look! I can see her hand move. Oh, heavings and earth! let
. us try a race back to the tavern.”

‘No, no; we must investigate. We’d lose our reputations if we did not.
A man must stand by his reputation whatever may come.”

‘‘ Judge, these are solemn times. Anybody is welcome to my reputation;
I’d part with it now if I only could get back to the tavern again,” said Billy.

The Judge pressed on. The rest followed unwillingly; Billy lagging behind
the others, but led on by force of example.

Our imaginations now made of the object a perfect old woman, with a
waving arm.

“Judge,” said Billy again.

“Come on, you coward!”

‘‘ She is warning us to turn back,” said Billy. “Don’t you see? Back it is.
Just look at the moon, Judge. Have n’t you any respect for the moon, nor for
warnin’s, nor for me, nor for nothin’? ‘ Back,’ she says, ‘ turn Jack,”

We were now in full view of the object, our nervous fears growing at every
step. We all stopped again.

““Cameralsman,” said the Judge, “you have muscle; iow a stone at her.”

Cameralsman picked up a stone and threw it with great force towards the
mysterious image. .

The effect was surprising. The figure began to bob up and down, and to
move down the hill, turning round and round, and waving its threatening arm.
We all stepped back; Billy crying, “The heavings have mercy on mortal
man!” All the nervous control we had left vanished. We were now mere
children of our fancies, victims of our fears.

The next event paralyzed us all. I can hear it now. A wild, piercing,
muffled cry, or shriek, rose from the figure, cutting the air and echoing every-
where a wild, long, piteous howl. It was repeated twice. Then the figure
turned round and round again, waving its long arm; then it seemed to bow
ARTHUR. 73

over, and, as it did so, a white form leaped into the air. A wild gust of wind
swept over the hill; the prostrate figure was borne into the gulch by the way-
side, and the white form was gone as though it had vanished. The road was
clear. The moon seemed like the head of a giant rising over the hill. We
were all dumb with fear. Even the Judge spread his legs apart in terror:

“It isn’t in mortal power to stand such a sight as that,” said he. “ The in-
visible world is after us. Run!”

We all approved his decision.

Run? We turned at the order, and I never saw nervous energy so applied
to the limbs of any human beings as it was then. - There came another gust of
wind that carried away the Judge’s hat. We did n't stop for it. Billy stumbled
once and fell headlong, and rose covered with blood. But he only said,
“ Heavings!” and bounded on again, his legs flying faster than before. In this
excited condition we returned to the inn, and tumbled one after another into
the door. Freelove met us there, all excitement, with her usual inconsiderate
exclamation. The Judge-was first to speak after the return,

“There are some things that make one wish for extraction or annihilation,”
said he; “and the invisible world has come down from the firmament to serra
Jirma.” This judicial announcement I have always thought a model of its kind.
“The wise men are confounded; I never really and truly believed in such
things before.” .

“IT would n’t stay in this neighborhood,” said Cameralsman, “ for all the
taverns in America. I never really believed that such things happen; now I
know. Tam sure.” .

“ Heaving forgive me!” said Blingo, the blacksmith, “I am a humbled man.
I have all the evidences of my senses. These things ave so,”

“Your supper is ready,” said Freelove, turning round and round, like a top.

“Supper?” said the Judge. “I don't feel as though I would ever eat any-
thing again.”

“Tf I only knew where there was any safe world to go to, I’d go there,”
said Billy. “TI declare I would. This is about the poorest world that I ever
got into, —it is, now. Ghosts a-swingin’ their arms, an’ whirlin’ roun’, an’
shriekin’, an’ callin’ up the moon an’ winds, an’ disappearin’ right before your
eyes into the bowels of the earth. Oh, my! Why, anybody who would doubt
what we saw would doubt anything. Heaving forgive me! This is my last
joke. I’ve got through.”

Freelove flew about, all excitement. We agreed, the Judge and all, that
here was a Supernatural event. How could we have dreamed of a dog in a
shock of stalks?

Here, at last, was a case of real ghost in old Greylock !


CHAPTER VI.

ARTHUR’S HOME MUSEUM AND ITS RELATION TO THE JOURNEY.

Arthur one evening, when he had suggested to
his son that it was a good plan to have a home
museum.

“The subject of home education,” said Mr.
Green, “is likely to receive much attention in
the future, as an essential outgrowth of the Chautauquan Circles;
and I think that the time will come when travel will become a part
of our educational system. Certain I am that families more and more
will seek to make a school in the home, with a library for the young,
with apparatus for scientific experiment, and a museum.”

; “A museum?” said Arthur. “How-would you collect a home
museum ?” ‘ .

“A home museum,” said Mr. Green, “may be made a playhouse
of useful study and experiment. Such museums have usually con-
sisted of minerals, coins, shells, stuffed birds and fishes, fossils, post-
age-stamps, and autographs. These are all interesting collections,
and follow the English methods of making a cabinet of curiosities ;
but in our country an enlargement of the plan may be appropriate,
with articles peculiar to our soil and history.”

“ How would you make the cabinet?” asked Arthur.

“ The case or cabinet of such a museum may be very simple and



inexpensive. It may consist merely of shelves and curtains, though
it would be better to have a case with glass doors, or boxes with glass






























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































=ALEAN=BARRAUB=











































A FLORIDA HERON.
ARTHUR’S HOME MUSEUM. a7

covers. A plaster bust of some representative man, a stuffed eagle
or owl,, buffalo horns, or some curious fossil may be used to orna-
ment the top of the cabinet, if a case instead of boxes be used.”

“And what would you put into a home museum like this?” asked
Arthur. . .

“Indian relics,” said Mr. Green. “The passing away of the In-
dian tribes makes the collection of Indian relics an interesting mat-
ter of history. These relics are to be found in all parts of our
country. Arrow-heads and wampum are almost everywhere to be
found embedded in the soil. Indian axes and flints, and mills where
corn was ground by being beaten with a pestle or rolled under a_
pestle, are common curiosities; and pottery is exhumed in many places
in the Southwest.

“Indian beads and pipes are common to all parts of the country.

“Tn order to make interesting such relics as these, they should
be associated with traditions and local wonder-tales, and their asso-
ciations explained. Nearly every town in America has its Indian
stories, and the collection of the romances of primitive life is a most
poetic and picturesque study. .

“An artist friend of mine visited the old Indian Reservation at
Lakeville, Massachusetts, painted a portrait of one of the Wampanoag
tribe, and made sketches of the ancient Indian burying-ground, and
other scenes of traditions about the lake. He was impelled only by
the motive to preserve the historical associations of the few descen-
dants of Massasoit and King Philip.

“Let me map out a plan: —

Feirlooms.

“In the thirteen original States of the Union are many fine oak
houses, with great chimneys and fireplaces, broad halls with facing
doors, winding stairs, and cavernous garrets. In these garrets are
often stored away the old cradles, sticks, clocks, settles, looms, wheels,
78 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

fire-dogs, guns, pictures, samplers, warming-pans, and other antique
articles of former generations. .

“Many families in New England have sold such relics for old

brass, iron, or rags; the planters of Virginia and the Carolinas have,
as a rule, entertained a larger sentiment otf respect for such things,
as have the families of Pennsylvania.
. . “It is an easy matter to change a garret, which still contains such
relics as have been mentioned, into an antiquated museum, and to
associate many articles with heroic, romantic, amusing, or pathetic
traditions of the family,— our garret, for example.

“You have visited the antique rooms of the Colonial house of
Major Ben: Perley Poore. The Major's rambling chambers and
attics are full of articles associated with stories, and he learned to
relate these traditions in a very vivid way. In his home old New
England lived again, as the days of Washington still live in the upper
rooms at Mount Vernon. .

Shells.

“ The collection of shells, by the sea and on the land, is one of
the simplest ways of training the eye to see beauty in common
things. When a collection of shells has been made, sea-ferns and
plants and flowers become wonderfully interesting to the museum-
"maker.

“The salt-water shells, fresh-water shells, and land shells may be
so arranged as to present many curious points of comparison; and
the beginner may well open his museum with these. The. simple
study will be likely to lead him on into the wide field of fossils and
zoology.

Farm Collections.

“ Taxidermy requires training and skill beyond the ability of begin-
ners in museum-making; and coin-collecting, to be representative,
demands a considerable outlay in money. But each farmer’s boy












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































CURIOSITIES OF THE SEA,

ARTHUR'S HOME MUSEUM. SI
could make a museum of the curiosities to be found on his own home
place. Thoreau says :—

“ Tf with fancy unfurled
You leave your abode,
You may go round the world
By the old Marlboro’ road.”

“The great number of curiosities that may be gathered from a
single farmstead will greatly surprise a visitor, who will not be un-
likely to regard the locality as one of the most curious in the country.

“* Some persons,’ said wise Dr. Johnson, ‘ will see more things in
asingle ride in a Hempstead stage-coach than others will see in a
tour of the world.’

“The number of flowers that could be collected on a one-hundred-
acre farm would in most parts of the country be a revelation to any
but a practical botanist. A book of these pressed flowers is a treasure
for the farm-museum. So also with the different kinds of woods that
may be collected on a farm; and again, feathers.

“The minerals that may be collected on a single farm are usually
numerous. It might be well for a school or a boys’ club to offer
premiums for the largest collections of pressed flowers and of minerals
to be found on any one farm ina township. The search would be-
come a study; the study a taste and habit, and the habit develop a
studious character.

Humorous Collections.

“Among the curiosities in the Philadelphia mint is a ‘coin made
in Philadelphia two thousand years ago.’ This pleasant use of an.
Asian name leads more people to examine this coin than the thousands
of others in the wonderful cabinets. It is often annoying to a serious
collector to see his friends turn away from curiosities of worth, to talk
over what is mereiy quaint and humorous.

“ Any young collector can have many oddities. Old toys, pictures,
6




82 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

riddles, sports and games, masks; curious growths of parts of trees,
and animal-shaped roots may claim his attention. He must not have
"a dull museum.”

Arthur searched the garret, fields, and farms, and constructed such
a museum; but when it was so nearly completed as to become inter-
esting, his ambition suddenly changed into plans for making collec-
tions on a larger plan. He had been to Cambridge, Mass., and seen
the collection of antique pottery from ancient mounds, in the Peabody
Museum; and it was his wish to visit the Smithsonian Institute in
Washington, and see the relics of the Cliff Dwellers. The plan of a
journey to the Mississippi Valley, Mexico, and the Islands of the Dis-
covery seemed to open to him a fine opportunity to collect interesting
material for a large home museum.

“TI hope that we shall go by the way of Washington,” he said one
day to his father. .

“ Why?” asked Mr. Green.

“So that I may see the Museum of the Smithsonian Institute,”

said Arthur.

“We can take that route,” said his father. “The usual way to
Chicago is by Albany and Detroit. It would bea good plan to go by
the way of Washington, and so start on our educational journey from
the Columbus doors of the Capitol.”

“T see,” said Arthur, “how I can enlarge my museum, and make it
like a picture book of history. We are really going over the scenes of
Early America, I want a museum that will mean something and
teach something, and I now shall have the opportunity to collect such a
one. I am glad, father, you taught me how to form the little home
museum. ‘I now can make it evolve and grow, and I have caught the
spirit of seeking things that recall the events of the past; and the more
I love the study of history, the greater is my wish to illustrate it in
the museum.”

“One step,” repeated Mr. Green, “is all the way.”
CHAPTER VII.
THE SPANISH CLASS. — LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS.

ay the evenings of their lessons the Spanish Class gave
an hour to the language, and an hour to social
entertainments. The entertainment followed the
lesson, and to this guests were invited. The enter-
tainment consisted for the most part of reading,
tableaux,and music. The topics were often Spanish
and historical, but sometimes miscellaneous and humorous; and on
several occasions Mrs. Green entertained the class and guests by re-
lating folk-lore stories and amusing tales of social life. Mrs. Green's
stories had so much that was suggestive in them that they were always
received with delight, and it came to be the usual question with the
class, after the lesson and entertainment, —

“Now, Mrs. Green, will you not give us something ely 7”

Arthur often gave the class something “lively,” in the form of
questions which tested their progress. He once said to Mr. Green,
the teacher: “I have been thinking that if I knew only one question
in Spanish, I could travel with that through all Spanish countries.”

“ What is that question?”

“ This, —‘ What do you call chat?’ How do you ask that ques-
tion in Spanish ?”

“ Cémo se llama eso?”! and the answer would be, “ Eso se Ilama—”

“I should only have to be able to ask that question to learn
everything.”



1 Co'moh say lyah’mah ay’soh.
84 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

He often asked different members of the class that question, which
he thought would prove a key to the language in travelling, but almost
invariably received the answer, “No sé” or “ No comprendo, Seftor.”

The class had an evening of Spanish historical tableaux, which
were acted history. The history and literature of Spain. and Spanish
countries offer delightful opportunities for tableaux.

The coming year, which celebrates the American discovery, invites
a revival of Spanish historical tableaux and music.

The stringed instruments of the Latin races and the South are
growing in popular favor, as the romances of- the Great Discovery
again become active in the student’s experience. Among the scenes
that may be effectively presented in tableaux with the music of the
cavalier and dolero, we may suggest Columbus as a boy on the quay of
Genoa, after the manner of the exquisite statuette in the Boston Art
Museum, a picture of which many of our readers may have seen ;
Columbus at the gate of La Rabida; Columbus’s first sight of
Isabella ; Columbus listening to the music of land birds, which music
may be imitated; the Ze Deum of Columbus at San Salvador, which
music may be sung by an unseen chorus; Columbus’s first interview
with Indians; his second meeting with Isabella; his narration to the
Spanish sovereigns on the field of Sante Fé; the Viceroy in chains,
and his death. ‘

On the field of Sante Fé at Barcelona the chapel choir of Isabella
sang a Ze Deum when Columbus had finished the narrative of the
Discovery. Columbus appeared in rich court dress on this occasion,
and was attended by Indians with plumes, jewels, and tropic birds.
This scene would make a rich historical tableau for music. Any one
of the old Te Deums might not inappropriately be chanted.

Mr. Diaz had travelled in Spain and in Spanish-American coun-
tries. He was a lover of poetry, and often wrote verse. He gave
several talks at the entertainments on Spanish music, and on curious
scenes that the class would see in the Columbian seas.

Mr. Green suggested the courses of entertaining reading for the
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 85

class. He once gave the class an essay on the subject of such read-
ings ; and as our young friends often are found asking for such advice,
we give a part of this paper here. We hope that other Spanish
classes may be formed on the plan in this narrative, and so we present
a view of all the methods of the development which this social club
employed.

Tennyson says that we are “a part of all that we have met.”
Books to-day are the models and builders of life. Good readings form
as a rule a standard from which there comes no relapse in taste, except
from loss of personal character. The memories of evenings that have
helped life are long inspirations to young people; harvests that ripen
to the end, and shed their good seeds for other soils. The thoughts
of youth, Longfellow says, are “long, long thoughts;” and Robert
Southey thus speaks of his beautiful experience in the companionship

of good books, —
“ With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe,
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedewed
With tears of heartfelt gratitiide.”

Ballads of Genius.

Classical ballads and sympathetic narrative poems are popular
features of reading-clubs, and should have a place in home readings.
I make a selection of a few ballads that are favorites in the elocution-
ary schools and reading-circles of Boston : —

1. Coleridge’s “ Ancient Mariner.”

2. Rossetti’s “ Sister Helen,” with Delsarte dramatic action.

3. Poe’s “ Raven,” ex tableau.

4. Mrs. Craik’s “ Douglas,” with music accompaniment.

5. Longfellow’s “ Old Clock on the Stairs,” with voice imitation of
the pendulum.

6. Tennyson’s “ Bugle Song.”
86 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI

Six Wonderful Short Stories. ‘

“ What are six short stories that bear the stamp of genius or that
are representative?” may be asked by the director of a reading-club.
I once met with the following selection as classics with which all
should be familiar as a matter of literary intelligence : —

1. Irving’s “ Rip Van Winkle.”

Baron Fouqué’s “ Undine.”

Poe’s “ Gold Bug.”

Dickens’s “ Christmas Carol.”

Mrs. Spofford’s “ Amber Gods.”

_ Edward Everett Hale’s “ Man without a Country.”

ww

Ow ee “OS
1

Readings in Biography.

Biographical reading is one of the strongest influences in the
education of character. Innumerable lives have found inspirations
for good or sympathetic direction by reading of biography. Young
people often find, as it were, themselves in biography, or a character of
like tendencies, views, and purposes; and such a character becomes a
model for the new sculptor of the marble of life.

Courses of biographical readings in a family may be arranged by
selections of the most impressive chapters from classic and popular
biography. I suggest six evening readings.

1. The Early Life of Horace. Little Classics.

2. Selections from Plutarch’s Lives.

3. The chapters in Boswell’s “ Life of Dr. Johnson ” that relate to
«“ Oliver Goldsmith ” and “ The Vicar of Wakefield.”

4. Selections from Southey’s “ Life of Nelson.”

5. Selection from “ Life of Bishop Patterson,” by Charlotte Mary
Yonge.

6. Selections from the “ Life of Miss Alcott.”

Lockhart’s “Life of Scott” opens a good study to the works of

4
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 87

Scott ; and Samuel Smiles’s “ Industrial Biography” is full of force and
noteworthy directions.

As a rule, an adult reading-club in the home should read the
best selections first. I was recently asked to select six master-
pieces of the best literature with which intelligent young minds should
be familiar, for six readings in the adult home circle. I chose the
following :—

1. Plato’s “ Death of Socrates,” and the « Argument for Immor-
tality.” In contrast with this read the “ Discourse at the Last Supper,”
as recorded by Saint John.

2. Virgil’s “ Pollio,” translation. In connection with this read
Isaiah xi. and Ix.; Horace’s “De Arte Poetica.”

"3. “ Midsummer Night's Dream,” Shakspeare. In connection,
Mendelssohn’s music to the “ Midsummer Night’s Dream,” or at least
the “ Wedding March.”

4. Carlyle’s “Sartor Resartus.” Abridge this work; introduce
it by the story of its composition, and assign the most vivid and
remarkable chapters to sympathetic readers.

5. Browning’s “ Paracelsus.”

6. Lowell’s “ Vision of Sir Launfal.”

It may be thought that these selections as a whole rise above the
popular taste and appreciation; but they represent a part of the
highest spiritual teaching and the best intellectual and literary
achievements. The Discourse of Socrates before drinking the hem-
lock, and the “ Pollio” (IV. Eclogue) may look uninteresting on a
list of topics, but an intense interest is awakened when the study of
them begins. They open wide doors of history, and stimulate the
best thought, and fix a standard and leave an impression of literary
character.

Carlyle’s “ French Revolution,” which is a moral analysis of thrill-
ing and dramatic events, Macaulay's “Essays,” and Thackeray’s
“Henry Esmond” are excellent selections for a course of home
readings. They are character education.
88 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Where a selection for an evening’s readings may seem heavy to
young minds unused to stimulating thoughts, let the exercise be
followed by music, or light character recitations. Discussion of the
topic is far better, if a lively interest be awakened in the readings.
But recreation is desirable after sustained mental effort, and the
recreative arts should have their full share in household experiences.

In most reading-clubs music should be introduced. This may be
made educational. The historic ballad is a picture of the past; and this
kind of ballad, which is so much esteemed in other countries, needs to
become a part of the educational influences of our own homes. His-
torical ballad concerts are becoming a popular feature of New York
life, as they are of the social life of all European cities. Our country,
which is patriotic in its literature, should be more patriotic in its music.

I select six patriotic ballads that voice American life, and that are
well adapted to the reading-circle : —

. The Vacant Chair.

. Keller’s American Hymn.

. Ben Bolt.

. My Old Kentucky Home.

. The Sword of Bunker Hill.
. The Bridge.

~

nm BW bd

Mr. Green suggested much reading in preparation for the planned
journey. Among the popular books were “Wau-ban,” or “Early
Days in the Northwest,” by Mrs. John Kinzie ; and “ Cuba with Pen
and Pencil,” by Hazard.

At these entertainments the interpolated stories by Mrs. Green
were favorites, and afforded a relief to the more formal exercises.
They had a certain humor about them which the young people found
in their afterthought was employed to teach them the lessons of right
conduct in life.

One of the stories which she was asked to repeat touched several
LITERARY AND. HUMOROUS. ENTERTAINMENTS. 89

points of social life.in which there is need of correction. Arthur liked
it, —it “hit off” the girls, he said, —and we give it here, and leave
the reader to see how it applied to the ambitious little society.

MRS. PARRISH’S SURPRISE-PARTY1

‘‘ Now I will tell you just how it will be,” said Mrs. Parrish to her cousin
Miss Flora Parrish, confidentially. “Are we alone in the room? Just let
me shut the door, for I would not allow so much as a breath of the secret
to escape.

“Well, husband and I have been married twenty-five years to-day, but our
wedding was celebrated two weeks after our marriage, on Christmas night.
My plan is to have a silver-wedding surprise-party next Christmas night.”

“Yes; I see, but not very clearly. How would it bea surprise-party, if
you arranged it yourself ?”

“It is to be a surprise-party to husband, and not to myself. I want
you to help me on the occasion, and so to manage to receive the guests that
he will not know of their coming until he enters the parlors. He usually goes
to his room in the third story after ten, to read and smoke. The cards of
invitation shall read, ‘Do not ring.’ After the guests have arrived, which
must be before eight o’clock, as stated in the printed invitations, I will say to
husband: ‘Henry dear, do you remember that to-night is the twenty-fifth
anniversary of our wedding-party? Would you not like to go down into the
parlor with me, and have me sing to you some of the old songs that you
loved to hear in those days when we were so hopeful and happy?’ He
of course will be ready to go,—he has no musical taste or culture, but he has
a kind of passion for old songs like Moore’s. :

“The parlors shall be quite dark, and I will take down the dark lamp-
lighter with me, and as we enter the room I will say, handing him the lamp-
lighter: ‘Here, light the chandelier, dear. I wish I had invited a few old
friends to meet us here to-night, —the Van Burens, the Hudsons, the Dexters,
and the Pinks.’ Then he will light the chandelier, and they w¢/ all be there.

“What a surprise it will be! Do you see? I am going to ask Miss
Willemine Pink to play, and her elder sister, Miss Marian, to read an original
poem. Do you see?

“Don’t you think the planexcellent? My plans always succeed, as you
know, and end 90 happily. I think I was born to make other people happy:
some folks are sent into the world just for that: ’tis my mission.”

1 By permission of Harper Brothers.
gO ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“Ves; but—”

“ But what? Why hesitate to give your full approval? why qualify? ”

“Mr. Parrish is not a very warm friend of some of the people whom you
propose to invite; certainly not of the Pinks. I fear Miss Willemine’s playing
and Miss Marian’s poem would hardly be to his taste, and a wedding anniver-
sary should be a very happy occasion every way, — harmonious not only with
the event, but with the personal feelings of both the wife and husband. You
remember the musical?”

Mrs. Parrish was silent a moment, and lay back in her chair. She did
recall the musical: it was fe terrible recollection of her married life, and the
great public humiliation of her long and reputedly brilliant social career,

Not that she had not experienced keen regret at times at her good
husband’s lack of the highest appreciation of literature and art. At her
Browning party, for example, when an ancient literary friend of once conspic-
uous and worthy Mrs. Sigourney had asked him, not knowing what else to say,
if he “liked Browning,” he had answered, “Yes, what I can understand.”
And when the same ancient lady of such commendable literary traditions had
put her ear-trumpet to the side of her cap, curls, and ear-ring, and had further
asked, “What poems of his do you best understand?” he had answered,
“©The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ and—” The whole brilliant literary company
were listening with intense interest. There was an embarrassing silence. Mr.
Parrish again gasped. “And —”

And all the rest of them, he means,” added Mrs. Parrish. “He appreciates
the beautiful, and a// that is beautiful, of course.”

Mr. Parrish’s usually pale face took on a youthful tinge, and he played
with the spoons, and seemed about to fan himself with a dinner-plate.

After the party Mrs. Parrish was reproachful. “ Think,” she said, before
retiring, to humiliated Mr. Parrish, ‘what a confession you made —‘“ The
Pied Piper of Hamelin” and—’ Suppose I had not been present, Mr.
Parrish?”

The musical, — ¢hat, as I have intimated, was a more serious affair. Mr.
Parrish on that occasion had not only shown a lack of the highest love for
the fine arts, but had made an exhibition of a want of self-control that
was unworthy of such a gentleman.

The social life of Mrs. Parrish had been an evolution. It began at a
church fair, where she had assumed the part of “ Rebekah at the Well,” in the
interest of benevolence, and in the same interest had sold lemonade in Oriental
adornments at ten cents a glass, out of a very unscriptural well. In “ Mrs.
Jarley” she proved a great success financially. This led her to a more ambitious
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. gI

effort, —a coffee-party for the “benefit of the common people” (her own.

people had lived on a milk-farm in New Hampshire, and were contented and
happy in the pastoral pursuits of such a life). After a visit to Florida she
gave an orange-party, which was really unique and useful as well as popular.
Her rooms on this occasion were festooned with orange colors, mingled with
Spanish moss and mistletoe, which she had ordered from a plantation on the
St. John’s. The guests were dressed in orange, the table was set in cloths and
furnishings of the same color, and on the great orange cake was the bough of
an orange-tree, on which were stuffed Baltimore birds. Oranges of all kinds
covered the tables; grape-fruit, mandarin and navel oranges, tangerines, mus-
catines, and all the more common varieties of the usual Florida grove.

The popularity of this party was not owing wholly to its uniqueness. A
barrel or more of choice oranges were left after the feast; and these were sent
in baskets to the sick of the place, to the aged, and the children. For the
sake of originality, a negro with a banjo was brought in to sing and play at
the tables the songs of the cotton-fields ; and Mr. Parrish, to use his wife’s not
over-complimentary words, “really acted as though he enjoyed it more than a
nocturne by Chopin or a fugue by Bach.”

Successful as the leading lady in church theatricals, Mrs. Parrish began to
hold receptions, musicals, and Browning readings in her rather elegant parlors.
She grew ambitious to make her receptions particularly notable by the presence
of people of genius. Young poets, and musicians, and visitors from abroad who
boasted the blood of titled families, were especially welcome. A poem ina
newspaper or the publication of a song made the author a child of the
immortal gods in the appreciative eyes of Mrs. Parrish. On finding a spirit so
touched with the divine fire, her cards of invitation would read, “ To meet
John Johnson, the new poet,” or “Jacques Jackson, the new composer,” or
“Mr. Garland, cousin of the Earl of Flowers.”

The cousins of the earls had given some trouble to Mrs. Parrish on account
of their old royal want of ready money; and her loans for board bills, that they
might honor her receptions, had never, in three distinct cases, been repaid.

Her trouble came, however, more from Mr. Parrish than from a sense of her
own loss. His reprovals were very mild, but uncomfortable. *‘ My old gray
goose keeps a kind of flying-school,” he once said in her hearing. And again,
“Arline does not. seem to know that time always speaks the truth about every-
body and everything; she thinks that a cat in a fog is as big asa tiger.” But
after some such philosophical lesson he paid all Mrs. Parrish’s benevolent bills,
and was rewarded by the charitable aside, “My husband does not understand
these things, you know.” ~




92 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI. -

The humiliating musical,— it happened in this wise. Mrs. Parrish had
invited the pupils of the Laurel Hill Seminary to enjoy an evening’s hospitality,
and they had accepted. In the midst of the festivity Mr. Parrish had returned
from the store, tired and nervous. He stopped in the hall, and glanced in
upon the scene of pink cheeks and blazing astrals. ,

“ Husband, you must come in: I am sure you will be so happy to meet
these delightful young people. We shall have some music soon.”

Mr. Parrish thought of valses by Moszkouski, of scherzos and scherzettos,
of a fearful bang at each end of the piano, and runs up and down the keys,
“after Scatterbrains.” It had all become a horror to him, expressive of no
sentiment whatever,—a mere mechanical display that was a torture to his
untrained ears.

“ Do join us, dear,” urged Mrs. Parrish. ‘“ Miss Lacombe is going to favor
us with an estudiantino.”

Just what ¢hat could be, poor Mr. Parrish failed to comprehend; but it
sounded musical in name, and with some misgivings he joined the happy
company of young musical divinities.

The piano was at last opened, and a hush fell on the flower-perfumed room.
_ The bright colors of silk and jewels ceased to mingle; and Mrs. Parrish, in
black velvet and diamonds, and with the air of an old society duchess, said,
“ Now shall we have some music?”

There was a dead silence.

“Perhaps Miss Lacombe will now favor us with an estudiantino?”

““T would be pleased to give you some Spanish music, but I never play
without my. notes.” , .

“Did you not bring your notes with you? I hoped you would. Give us
‘a gavotte or capriccio, Ss sonetine light, as an introduction.”

“T assure you that I would be glad to do so, my dear Mrs. Parrish, but I
never play without my notes.”

“Mr. Carmen, I am sure you will favor us— perhaps with one of your
great Wagnerian réles.”

Mr. Carmen bowed (low vest, roses, hair @ Za Pompadour), ‘“T assure you,
Mrs. Parrish, that it would give me great pleasure to sing, if some one would
play my accompaniments.” ,

But no one was found to play an accompaniment to a “ great Wagnerian
role” without notes, and poor Mrs. Parrish could find no music of any “ great
Wagnerian réle” for a male voice; and so Mr. Carmen had to be excused,
having made for himself a great reputation by what happy circumstances had
forbidden him to attempt, like Mr. Parrish’s simile of the “ cat in the fog.”
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 93

“T am sure that Miss Emory will now sing Gounod’s always enchanting
song, ‘Sing, smile, slumber.’ ”

To the relief of all, Miss Emory said: “I will do the best that I can to
serve you. English words or French?”

“ Oh, French,” said Mrs. Parrish. “I have the French words here;” and
she laid the sheet music on the piano. :

Even unmusical Mr. Parrish liked that song. ‘ There is real poetry in it,”
he said. He was now glad that he had been allured into the flying-school.

There was a light silvery ripple along the keys, charming the ear at once,
bringing the mind into perfect harmony with the airy serenade, and then there
came a pause.

“T have never sung it in this key,” was the awful explanation. ‘“ I would
have to transpose it.”

“Oh, please do so! ” said Mrs. Parrish.

“Ves, do,” said Mr. Parrish. ‘ Transpose it any way, but sing it. That is
one of my favorites.”

There followed a strange mingling of the keys, a disagreeable thump,’
thump, thumping, here, there, and yonder. It became as interesting as a five-
year-old pupil’s first music-lesson. Mr. Parrish moved about impatiently, and
at last asked, —

“Cannot some of you play that accompaniment? What is a musical
education for?”

All could play that accompaniment, but no one could play a transposition
of it, or was willing to attempt it at sight; and so the Gounod serenade seemed
about to fail.

Mr. Parrish’s face began to wear a business-like look. “Cannot some one
sing ‘Sweet Geneviéve’?” he asked.

“ A simple American ballad,” added Mrs. Parrish. She asked three under-
graduates, but each one had a “ cold,” and ‘ ought not to have been out.”

“Well, I declare, this is too bad,” said Mr. Parrish. “ Wife, where ’s our
French table-girl, Arletta? Send for Arletta!” and Mr. Parrish seized the
silver handle of a bell-knob over the shelf, and a sharp ringing was heard in and
from the kitchen below.

A servant appeared.

“Send up Arletta.”

Arletta appeared; bright, pezzte, all smiles.

~“ Well, Monsieur.”

“Have you your notes?” .

“Yes, Monsieur.”
94 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIP PL

“Where?”

“ Here, Monsieur,” pointing to her white little throat.

“Can you play an accompaniment? 7

“ Oui, Monsieur.”

“In what key?”

“ Any key, — make them up.”

“How?”

“ Out of my head.”

“A skylark has indeed come to the flying-school. Can you sing that song
of Gounod, — that serenade, ‘ Chanté, chanté’ — that one?”

“Ves.”

“Have you a cold?”

“ No.”

“ Well, sing.”

Arletta sat down at the piano, and after a most graceful and rippling
introduction sang the serenade in pure French, with a delicacy and vivacity
that would have charmed the ear of any popular audience.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Parrish. “Now 1 think I will be excused;” and
without so much as saying good-by to any one, he retired to his room.

“My husband is so peculiar!” said Mrs. Parrish. ‘I hope that you will
excuse him.”

The musical came to an end at an early hour, and never was called
together again. But it came to be a matter of common report that Mrs. Parrish
had given a musical, and that Mr. Parrish had called in the table-girl to sing
and play. The table-girl and Mr. Parrish were the only people present that
seemed to be quite satisfied with the evening’s performance. The matter
became a part of the witty gossip of the society papers, and so a temporary
eclipse came over Mrs. Parrish’s social sun.

The plans for the Christmas night surprise-party on the practical Mr.
Parrish grew. Miss Pink the elder began her poem for the occasion; and as
the greatness of the event, with its boundary of twenty-five years, grew upon
her, the poem also grew. She slipped over to Mrs. Parrish’s private room on
several.mornings, when she was sure that Mr. Parrish would be at the store, to
inform the delighted lady of the growth of the poem under the enlightenments
of successive inspirations. The poem had a solemn title for a festival, ‘‘ The
Flight of Time.” It recalled to Mrs. Parrish the muses of good Robert Pollock
and Dr. Young.

“What do you think of the introduction?” asked Miss Pink, on her first
stolen visit.
LITERARY AND IUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 95

“Whene’er I lift my eyes from things that are,
And fix them on things that are not,
Then the things that are not are
The things that are.”

“As mysterious as it is majestic,” answered Mrs. Parrish,

“ Then follows an apostrophe to Chronos,” said Miss Pink; “and then an
apostrophe to Eros,”

“A grand conception; but— ”

“A suggestion? ”

“T’m afraid husband, you know, don’t know, you know, or might not
know, Chronos from Eros. His mind is peculiar; it can only reach so high,
or go so far, — does not rise above the old English poets in poetry, or above the
‘Messiah’ or ‘Stabat Mater’ or ‘Trovatore’ in music, Some minds cannot.
They can master simple arithmetic, but are lost in the Rule of Three.”

It was arranged that the younger Miss Pink should play the “ Wedding
March” from “ Lohengrin” as soon as Mr. Parrish should light the chandelier on
the anniversary night, and at the first touch of the music the whole company
should exclaim, “A merry silver wedding!” three times. Congratulations
were to follow, during which Miss Pink was to play the “ Swedish Wedding
March,” and the musical programme was to end with Mendelssohn’s « Wedding
March.” After the congratulations Mr. Elvi Sylver was to present Mr. Parrish
with a silver coin from Mrs. Parrish (paid for out of the aforesaid Mr. Parrish’s
Own accounts). Then Miss Pink the elder was to read the address to Chronos
and Eros, and recall the Vicissitudes of twenty-five married years.

“T can hardly sleep for thinking of it,” said Mrs. Parrish to the Misses
Pink. “TI never dreamed in my simple girlhood that I would ever become a

wrought.”

Mrs. Parrish had influenced local politics, and she felt that the aristocratic
suburb owed much to her influence in public affairs, as well as in the develop-
ment of the fine arts. When it was proposed by the Van Burens to make
“Lissory,” as the suburb where these important people lived was called, a very
select community, from which the “common people” should be excluded by
selling no land at less than five thousand dollars per lot, she had favored the
scheme, even against the views and Principles of her very democratic husband.
Mr. Parrish was very liberal in his political views, and had once shocked the
96 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

king had ever had, and that it was only personal worth that made any crown
really royal. The Hudsons, Dexters, and Pinks — families who had grown rich
by impoverishing other people by sharp speculations — had joined the Van
Burens in creating a suburb that was to exclude the common people for the
sake of living “in accordance with the higher social standards.” Mr. Parrish
was an honest man, and had become prosperous by the profits of an honest
business. He had yielded much to. his wife’s influence in the selection of a
home, but he had never thoroughly liked his pretentious neighbors, and he
especially disliked the Van Burens, the Hudsons, the Dexters, and the Pinks, —
people whom Mrs. Parrish was particularly desirous that he should regard as
his confidential friends.

The short dark days of December moved on in a hurrying procession
toward the gladness of the holidays. The last robins sought the covers of the
frosty woods, and the snow-birds came to the door-yard trees with their single
note. The evening lamps were early lighted under a steel gray sky. The
gentians died, the red berries lined the wayside walls, children gathered
creeping-jenny, and the markets began to grow green with the usual decorations
for the church and fireside.

“T shall decorate my parlors this year with silver,” said Mrs. Parrish to her
housekeeper. “I have a particular reason for it. I am going to buy new
curtains with silver thread, the lamp-shades must be of silver paper, the silver
ornaments must take the place of the marble ones, and the silver vases must be
got ready for white roses. When the lamps are lighted, the rooms must
glimmer, —do you see?”

The well-trained housekeeper saw. She was used to these things. She
had prepared the house for a pink tea, a crazy reception, and the famous
orange-party; and her fancy’s eye saw just the effect that her mistress wished to
produce. So the rooms were prepared to glimmer like silver waves when the
lamps should be lighted on the evenings of the holidays.

The good housekeeper added some novel effects of her own invention.
She “set” the evergreen decorations in a solution of alum and water, and thus
tipped them with silvery crystals. When the good woman’s work of decoration
was complete, and the rooms were lighted as an experiment, they looked, as
Mrs. Parrish enthusiastically expressed it, like “ the palace halls of the moon.”

“T always had a genius for such things,” she said. “ Some people do. It
is not every one that writes poetry with the pen; many do it by creating
expressions. Those rooms are apoem. They express sentiment. Everything
beautiful that expresses sentiment isa poem. Cleopatra’s barge was a poem,

Marie Antoinette’s Trianon, and all the masks of Madame de Pompadour ;
and J am a poet.”.
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 97

Silver cake was made in abundance, and a set of silver goblets was hired.
Miss Pink added to her poem some stanzas on the “ silver tide of life.’ Then
a new idea took possession of Mrs. Parrish’s poetic mind.

‘The good lady had done one really unique and useful thing in her social
career besides the famous orange-party. It took the form of “ Readings with
Musical Accompaniments.” The village organist was famous for improvising
in musical moods, and he had been at Mrs. Parrish’s service in these very
charming entertainments. Mrs. Parrish had once heard Bellew’s musical read-
ings, and she came away from the gifted young Englishman’s performances
with a discovery which she thought would make even a series of parlor readings
interesting to young people. So sheand the organist arranged “ Twelfth Night”
for an experiment, assigning the parts to certain young students of the Music
School, and helping them to appear in costume. The organist was a genius,
and well: instructed in the old English music and their recent collections ; and
“Twelfth Night” proving a great success, it was followed by reading all of the
plays of Shakspeare which offer a field for music.

She would have Miss Pink’s poem read to music, — sz/very music. True,
she had not been able to quite comprehend the introductory lines, which made
the “things are not” appear the “things that are ;” yet they vaguely recalled
to her the fact that memory is the “ resurrection of the lost years,” as she ex-
pressed her understanding of the very obscure passage to Miss Pink herself.

The snow fell one long dark night. The sleigh-bells jingled in the morning.
‘The trees were a harvest of icicles. People hurried in the street. The stores
were lighted by four o’clock. The stars had a cold look. The sleigh-bills
jingled everywhere, and Christmas came.

Mrs. Parrish’s invitations had multiplied. All was ready, even to the dark
lamp-lighter and the muffler for the door-bell.

The Christmas dinner was unusually quiet, which fact did not seem to have
any depressing effect on the usually philosophical Mr. Parrish.

After a good dinner the quiet gentleman went to his own ‘room “ upstairs,”
as he was always glad to do. He was secretly thankful that there were no
guests in the house, and that he could get a few hours in his dressing-gown, -
with his magazines and reviews, by the open fire.

“ Now I am going to read and take a nap. I’m tired.”

This was said to Mrs. Parrish on leaving the table, and was intended as a
gentle reminder that he did not wish to be disturbed.

Two or more blissful hours passed. Then just as he was deep in an article
on “ The Future of English-speaking Nations,” there came a nervous tap on the

door.
7
98 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Silence.

Another tap, a little louder.

Mr. Parrish said reluctantly, “Come in.” He did not leave his easy-chair.
Why should he? He had invited no one to his room ; and as to Mrs. Parrish,
he had politely told her that he wished to be alone.

Mrs. Parrish opened the door, and came in, still and stately, in velvet and
silver lace.

“T am sorry to disturb you,” she said; ‘ but do you remember, husband,
what night this is?” ,

“Ves, Christmas night.”

“ But another?”

‘Two nights in one?”

“Yes.”

She opened an enormous silver fan, and began moving it to and fro.

“Husband, do you remember what happened twenty-five years ago to-
night?”

“No. What?”

“ Our wedding-party. To-night should be our silver wedding.”

“Ah, yes, if you reckon in that way. Don't seem as though we had been
married twenty-five years.”

“ Yes, twenty-five long years.”

“ Well, Arline, you have been a good wife, a pretty good wife, or used to be
before your head became unsettled by society. I ought to have made youa
present of a silver something.”

Mrs. Parrish waved her silver fan uneasily. Mr. Parrish was not talking in a
susceptible way.

“Husband, do you remember our early life in the little red house among
the New Hampshire hills?”

“Yes.”

“ And the sheep?”

“ We have a different kind of sheep around us now.”

“ And the cool spring that ran from the mountain-side, to which you used
to go for water?” :

“Yes.”

“ And the old dairy-house?”

“Yes.” Mr. Parrish dropped the review, and ran his hands through his hair.
“Yes, Arline; yes, Arline. And one cannot find the lost years of youth even
among the springs of Florida.” Mr. Parrish began to hum the tune of the
“Old Oaken Bucket.”

“T used to sing that song when we were young,” continued Mrs. Parrish.
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 99

“Would you not like to go down into the parlor and hear me play it and sing
it again? ”

“Yes, I would, Arline. It would seem like the old days, whose true happi-
ness I shall never know again, — a fine house is not happiness.”

The hills of New Hampshire seemed to rise before him and haunt him; _
the old red house, the school-house, and the mountain springs.

“ Arline, lam glad that for once we are alone. I am so weary of all this
false life, in which selfish people are seeking pleasure, pleasure, and not the
happiness of others. Happiness never comes to those who seek it, Arline.
You said that your Florida orange-party made you happy because it made
others happy. Your show parties do not make you happy. I wish you would
leave off being a waiter at Vanity Fair. I want you to sing to-night a// of your
old songs, — Tom Moore’s ‘The Light-House,’ ‘ Twilight Dews,’ ‘Thou sweet
gliding Kedron,’ and ‘Home, sweet Home.’ Oh, I am so glad that I am at
home, and I am glad that every one else is!’ I never want to see any more of
society, unless it be to help somebody or to subserve some good purpose.
Why, I’d rather hear old Parson Bellamy preach Calvinism; that did at least
set one to thinking vigorously, if it were only to think one’s self out of it.”

Mrs. Parrish waved her fan. She went to the door, opened it. Silence.
She was sure that all was ready. The organist was there; Miss Pink, she
fancied, was at the piano; the elder Miss Pink was waiting with her long poem;
and the whole company were standing in full dress in the darkened parlors,
ready to shout, ‘A happy silver wedding!” She felt sure that that was the
condition of affairs below stairs, and she was right.

“ Flusband,” said the lady in velvet and silver lace, “I have been unselfish
this Christmas. I have given my whole thought and time to a plan to make
happy a single poor unhappy man who lives beneath his privileges. When
you come to know how charitable I have been, you will better appreciate your
wife of twenty-five years.” Mrs. Parrish swung her fan.

“But why, Arline, did you put on that party dress, all in spangles like a
circus-rider’s; and what possible use can you have for that fan? Why, it is
large enough to raise a blizzard.”

“ You will understand me better some day,” returned Mrs. Parrish, with an
air of mystery. ‘We must not quarrel to-night, dear, of all the nights of our
lives. Now will you go down with me?”

Mr. Parrish rose slowly; Mrs. Parrish brushed his hair, and rearranged his
wrapper. Then she took the lamp-lighter from the shelf where she had placed
it, lighted it from her husband’s match-box, covered the flame with the metal
cap, fixed the non-conducting chain that was wound around the long igniting-
tube, and opened the door.
100 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The way down was easy. The hall lamp burned dim, the halls were silent,
and Mrs. Parrish made a mysterious-looking figure, like a stage Lady Macbeth,
with her dark lamp, velvet trail, jewels, and silver bangles.

It was a part of Mrs. Parrish’s plan to make Mr. Parrish say something, un-

witting, pleasant about the guests in the opaque room, before the chandeliers
were lighted. But in view of Mr. Parrish’s expressions of gratitude at being for
once able to be alone, this plan looked to her hazardous, even perilous. But
she was a very politic woman, and equal to any trifling emergency; and her
bright mind was studying during her descent how to form her words, on open-
ing the parlor door, so as to elicit only the most flattering answers.

The foot of the stairs was reached. Dead silence.

Mrs. Parrish now timidly opened the parlor door. Darkness. The capped
lamp-lighter did not add a ray except perpendicularly downward. —

There was an odor of roses and pine, a balmy air, like Tampa Bay or the
Indian River.

The two stood in the doorway.

“T almost wish, husband, that we ad invited a few of our old finde: og
night. I know that you would have been glad to have met the Van Burens —

“« Ahem!”

This was encouraging.

“ And the Hudsons —”

“Ahem! ahem!”

Admirable.

“ And the Dexters?”

““T tell you; Arline —”

“Yes, yes; I knew you would, and we might have had an anniversary poem
from some delightful poetess, like Marian, you know; and some better music
than I can give you, —something brilliant on the piano, from a professional
player, or an inspirational one, like Willemine.”

“ How the cold shivers do run down my back!”

“TI fear you have taken cold, dear.”

“Well, well; don’t let’s stand talking here in the dark; light the chan-
delier.”

“ Here is the lamp-lighter, dear.”

“ Did n't you bring down any matches?” «

“No; here is the lamp-lighter; take it.”

Mr. Parrish had never used the patent contrivance. He did not know that
the metal cap was to be lifted from the bit of light at the top of the slender tube
by the little chain; he thought it was to be pulled off like a red-cap raspberry.
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. IOI

Now the metal cap, although it covered but a bit of spirit flame, was in a
condition to awaken very lively and decisive thoughts if touched.

Mr, Parrish took hold of this bright and fiery particle with his usual delib-
eration, pressing it between his thumb and finger. The result was electrical.
There were strange, quick motions in the darkness.

‘‘Oh-o-o — all ye gods! WhathaveI done? Now I have burnt my fingers,
both of them too, with that pesky, rattle-trap contrivance. Oh-o! Oh, my —”

Here the lamp-lighter dropped suddenly and sightless to the floor.

‘Oh, never, never mind, husband; never mind. I’ll go and get some
matches. There, there, never mind.”

“Never mind! get into a hornets’ nest, and ‘ never mind;’ put your foot
on a blistering stove, and ‘never mind.’ I wish you had my fingers for just one
minute. Call the servants, — bring a dish of cold water. Quick! I shall have —
a fit!”

“Yes, yes. Don’t get so excited; you are usually cool. A little burn isn’t
anything. You should have removed the cap with the chain. There, there;
you be perfectly still and quiet, and I will go and get some matches and some
water.”

“Well, do; for mercy sake, hurry. I sha’n’t get over this all night. What
are you waiting there for? Hurry!”

Mrs. Parrish reluctantly disappeared.

But Mr. Parrish could not obey his wife’s wise counsel and “be still; ” he
had to talk to help relieve the pain. And he did.

“T thought I was going to have one day of quiet, —I did, —and not to be
bothered by calls from people who have nothing to do,—I dd. A pretty plan
that would have been to have invited that old stock-gambler Van Buren, and
that real-estate fraud Hudson, and those shoddy Dexters, and had a great long
string of senseless poetry by that empty-headed Marian Pink, and one of those
awful piano solos by —”

“There, there,” said Mrs. Parrish, hastily returning. “Do be.calm, love.
Here’s a match.”

But Mr. Parrish was skeptical about his wife’s lamp-lighters in the dark.

“Light it yourself.”

“Now, husband dear, be prepared for a surprise.”

“A surprise! I guess if you had undertaken to light the room with a coal
of fire, there would n’t have been much left to surprise you in this world — nor
any other.”

Mrs. Parrish touched the lighted match to the chandelier. The room was
transformed, transfigured. It glimmered. But the piano was not played. The
102 : ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

company that stood like statues did not shout “ A merry silver wedding!” so
much as once. Miss Marian Pink did not unroll her poem.

“T knew that you would be surprised,” said Mrs. Parrish.

“T am,” said Mr. Parrish.

“I think that we all are,” said Mr. Van Buren.

“T am,” said Mr. Hudson.

“ And I,” said Mr. Dexter.

“And I am zot,” said Miss Marian, the poetess. “I always knew that the
ian was just such an awful fool.”

The poem in her hand certainly contradicted the plain prose statement.
Did it not say, —

“He stands a tower among earth’s grandest peers,
The Solon wise of five-and-twenty years ” ?

There was a silence, a motionless silence, broken only by the unfortunate
Mr. Parrish as he rubbed his fingers on his dressing-gown. The room glim-
mered with silvery lustres, and was full of subtle perfumes. ,

Then followed a light buzzing that grew into audible whispers: “ He did say
it;” “He meant you ;” “He meant me;” “He did not know what he:said!”
“Ves, he did; —he knew;” “He was not accountable; ” ‘‘A party like this
invites such things.”

The reserve, amid all the preparation, brightness, and splendor, was quite
unaccountable to poor Mrs.’ Parrish. She tried to have the programme carried
forward, but was told that the “late unfortunate circumstance” had made it |
impossible.

No one spoke to Mr. Parrish, who continued rubbing his fingers, except the
‘sympathetic organist.

“Are you not very much surprised?”

“ Very,” rubbing his fingers vigorously.

Jingle, jingle, jingle! The sleighs came early for the guests. The drivers
that night did not have to wait long out in the cold. The guests departed
early. Their tongues were unloosed when once in the frosty air.

Practical Mr. Parrish never dared to~tell his wife the whole truth, but he
was allowed to pass the next Christmas holiday in the quiet of his own room.

But he never felt quite at ease at the recollection of the event, for another
cause than his own loss to local polite society. His wife’s intentions had really
been very kind, as they often were, despite a little vanity, and he had some
misgivings that he had not quite regarded these as a model husband should.
However this might be, he never was heard to speak of his silver wedding.
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 103

To the readings, music, and stories of the literary exercises of
the class, Mr. Diaz sometimes added an original poem; and with
one of these we close this chapter, which gives a view of the working
of a class study at home : —

THE FLAG THAT THE EMIGRANTS CHEERED.

GIBRALTAR rose dark, and the sun’s disk burned low,
Like a far gate of heaven with banners aglow;
And red o’er the Pillars of Hercules blazed
The Star of the Pilots of old, as we gazed.
And swift the breeze freshened, and deep boomed the gun,
And the ships of the nations swept by, one by one, —
The Red Cross of England, the Tricolor proud,
And the dark German Eagles in billows of cloud.
Then the Flag of the Stars from the Western waves came,
And passed in review by the old flags of fame.
“Why are the ships shouting?” Our feet forward pressed. —
“Tis the emigrants cheering.” — “ Which flag >” —«“ Of the West.”
The Cross of Saint George
Floated free o’er the main,
The black German Eagles,
The Lions of Spain,
And the flags of all seas
In the bright Straits appeared ;
But, oh, ’t was my own flag
The emigrants cheered!

The emigrant mothers their gladdened eyes raised,
And memories wove of the past as they gazed ;
And their thin hands they waved ’neath the lone Afric Star,
And greeted the flag of the new lands afar.
Then the emigrant children laughed out with the rest.
As their eyes caught the light of the Flag of the West.
Laugh on, little ones, in your star-lighted way,
To the Lakes of the States and the Georgian Bay !
: Round the flag of your birthright the sea-birds are veering;
*T is for you, not themselves, the old mothers are cheering.
The Red Cross of Saint George
Waves free o’er the main,
The Gallic Tricolor,
The Lions of Spain,
104 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

And the flags of all seas

In the bright Straits appear ;
But oh! ’tis my own flag

The children’s hands cheer!

Young Romans were there, of the Eagles of old;
Strong Charlemagne’s sons, of the helmets of gold,
The heirs of the heroes of world-making wars,
Passed outward that hour in the night march of stars.
All thought of the friends to their bosoms most true,
Of the hearts of the Old World that beat in the New,
Of the world-weary struggles of peoples oppressed,
Of the Kingdom of God in the Suns of the West.
The Cross of Saint George ,
Passed them by on the main,
The dark German Eagles,
The Lions of Spain.
Off Trafalgar’s waters
The last flag appeared ;
But mine was the last flag
That the emigrants cheered.

That scene at Gibraltar in mind lingers yet ;
That eve Andalusian what heart could forget ?
And where’er I may roam through the nightfall of years,
My heart will re-echo the emigrant’s cheers.
Can the soldier forget the last roll of the drum,
Or the wanderer the song cf his mother at home,
Or the patriot his vision of duty sublime,
As seen on the towers of the summit of Time?
I still see the Eagles
That swept o’er the main,
The leonine banners
Of England and-Spain,
The African starlight,
The gray fortress-crest,
And the emigrants cheering
Their flag of the West.

No voice of the bugle, no war-rolling drum,
Disturbs the sweet peace of my roof-tree of home.
But the Anthem of Liberty gladdens the main,
And the chorus of hills wakes the patriot’s strain.
O flag of my own land, Hope’s bow in the air,
O’er my home let me lift thee, my altar of prayer !
LITERARY AND HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENTS. 105

Many flags have the people that grand deeds recall
But my own flag of faith is the pride of them all.
The Red Cross of England
Waves free o’er the main,
The dark German Eagles,
The Lions of Spain ;
But ever while stars
For all men shall appear,
Our flag of all peoples
The pilgrims will cheer.
CHAPTER VIII.

THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. — “COMO SE LLAMA
ESO?”

(SeEjRTHUR had a curious plan in mind. In his view
“Cémo se llama eso” was a key that would unlock



all doors in Spanish-speaking countries, and next
to it in value, “Traigame” (Bring me) would
prove a willing servant. He would begin asking
questions of Cuban boys and girls as soon as he
should meet Spanish-speaking people; and he would commit to mem-
ory the answers that he received, and the pronunciation of them, and
he hoped one day to surprise the class by the way in which he would
talk the language. If he had an apple, for example, he would ask a .
Cuban boy, “ Cémo se llama eso?” He would be answered “ Una
manzana,”! and he would be careful to watch the lips of the speaker
and repeat the word after him, and remember it as spoken. So with
words like “una pera” (a pear), “una nuez” (a nut), “una rosa a
rose), “una violeta” (a violet), “el melon” (a Melon).

“T have a tongue,” he said, “and a boy can ask questions; and I
will get Cuba to teach me, and it will be done correctly.”

The thought occurred to him that to receive polite and willing
answers he must learn some polite and pleasing phrases. So “Le doy
4 usted muchas gracias” (I give you much or many thanks), “ Con
mucho gusto” (With much pleasure), “ Con mil amores” (With a
thousand loves), “A mas ver” (Till I see you more — good-by),

1 Mahn-thah’nah.
































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































WASHINGTON,

2

E HOUSE

THE WHIT
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. Tog

“Cémo esta usted” (How are you?), “Muy bien, gracias” (Very
well, thanks), and “ Perdone usted ” (Pardon me), were added to his
growing vocabulary, He still continued to study the Spanish gram-
mar and phrase-book by himself,

. The class under the lead of their generous friends began their
journey by going to Washington. Here Arthur found especial de-







































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE WHITE HOUSE, REAR ENTRANCE.

light in the models of the dwellings of the Cliff-dwellers in the Smith-
sonian Institution.

After visiting the monument, good Mrs. Green took the class to
see the little cottage of Marcia Burns, in the half-ruined grounds of
the old Van Ness mansion, near the monument and the White House.
Marcia Burns was the daughter of David Burns, a rugged old Scotch-
man, who was compelled by the Government to sell a part of his great
plantation for the site of the Capitol. He disliked to part with his
land, and once said to Washington, who was commissioned to buy it,
“Who would you have been, had you not married the Widow Custis?”

The cottage is small and old, but picturesque. Here Thomas
1IO ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Moore, the poet, was entertained in Jefferson’s days. It was about
this time that Moore visited Virginia, and wrote the once famous
ballad, “ The Lake of the Dismal Swamp.” Marcia Burns married,























‘The 25
Washing to ez.
Horum ee

sae fF =

~- SSS s —:



but died young, leaving much of
her great fortune to the Washington
Orphan Asylum, where her beauti-
ful portrait may still be seen. The
old Van Ness mansion is a poetic
ruin. Here all the Presidents and
statesmen of a generation used to
be entertained, and here six head-
less white horses are said to haunt
the place on the return of old anni-
versary evenings.

The Government stopped on
the day Marcia Burns (Van Ness)
was buried. She sleeps in the
Temple of Vesta, not far from the
resting-place of. the author of
“Home, Sweet Home.”

There were two scenes in Wash-
ington that impressed themselves
upon the class, more than the mon-

Ze ment or the grand government

offices. They were the Columbian
Doors of the Capitol, and the inde-
scribably beautiful effect of moon-

“light on the Capitol building.

We give a description of the

Columbian Doors, from the pen of a Washington lady who has made

them a study : —




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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THE T
REASURY BUILDIN
G.
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 113

THE ROGERS’ BRONZE DOORS.!

IN the city of Rome, in the year 1858, an American sculptor, by name
Randolph Rogers, designed and modelled the famous bronze doors placed in
the main central entrance to the Capitol, which is a strong point of interest to
all intelligent sight-seers in Washington.

Few finer or more enduring examples of the sculptor’s art are to, be found
in any country, delineating, as it does, the life of the great discoverer to whom
we, as a people, owe so much.





THE NATIONAL LIBRARY.

1 By permission “ Youth’s Companion.”
8
It4 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The doors are seventeen feet high, nine feet wide, and weigh twenty
thousand pounds. They were designed when the sculptor was about thirty-
three years of age, and after the execution of some of his most famous works.
For these models he was paid eight thousand dollars, and the casting of the
metal in 1861 Oy F. Von Miiller, at Munich, cost seventeen thousand dollars.

The door in its entirety,
as represented in the illus-
tration, pleases the eye at
once by the harmony of its
dimensions and the beauty

_and skill with which the
panels are worked out. Of
a rich golden brown, it
stands, sombre and unique,
a silent historian of the
most striking events in the
life of one of the greatest
explorers the world has
ever known.

The casing, which is
also,of bronze, projects
forward from the leaves of
the door, ‘and is filled with
designs emblematic of con-
quest and navigation. The
statues at each corner rep-
resent the four quarters of
the world, — Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America.

es 4 = il Including the semicircu-

4 ul lar picture at the top, there
a aE | aeciae panels in al rep-
resenting in alto velievo the

THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. most striking events in the
career of the great naviga-
tor, — his aspirations, perils, successes, and disappointments, all carefully and
lovingly delineated, by the hand of genius.

Beginning on the lower left-hand side of the doors, they interest the

spectator at once by their life-like accuracy and power of expression. The

ooo!

GOSS SRINNE RTD BONS TOE DET ET Ga00 DE RTO RN EN Daa Te an On erURgemos on Rene re TURES SS oRES See sIE STS




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 115

first one is entitled, ‘‘ Columbus Undergoing an Examination before the Council

of Salamanca.”
This panel represents Columbus shoaiad his plans and charts, which

confidence was meanly taken advantage of by his judges.



COLUMBUS PUT IN IRONS.

. The figure in the left niche is Perez, a contemporary of the discoverer.
Henry VII. of England stands on the right. The projecting heads in each panel
are those of historians of the time of Columbus, with the exception of two.
Those at the foot of the lower panels are presumably native Indians of America,

“The Departure of Columbus from the Convent of La Rabida” is the

subject of the next picture above.
Wearied with fruitless exertions, and disgusted with the duplicity of
116 ; ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

crowned heads, Columbus is said to have left Lisbon in 1484. In the mean
time, his wife had died, leaving one son, Diego.

Spain was now the goal of his hopes. He was seemingly friendless, and
as he begged on his way, it is to be supposed that he had no money. He had
then reached Andalusia, dispirited, though not defeated, and there, at the gates
of an old convent in the town of Palos, he stopped to beg bread and water for
his little son.

Antonio de Marchena was the superior of the convent. The grandeur of
the man who had tarried by the wayside made itself apparent during a conver-
sation held with him; and the ecclesiastic entered at once into correspondence
with royalty, and used all his influence with the King and Queen in his behalf.
In this panel, Columbus appears to be leaving the old convent in good spirits,
buoyed up with the hope of ultimate success.

The statue on the left is that of Cortez, conqueror of Mexico; on the
- right, lady Beatrice De Bobadilla, in her court robes. The projecting head at
the top is that of our own Washington Irving. Bancroft is also represented,
elsewhere.

At last, seven years after his appeal to the good friars of La Rabida
Convent, Columbus obtained an andience with Queen Isabella, which is
pictured on the next panel.

In the niche on the left of this bronze picture is the navigator Alonzo De
Ojeda. On the right stands Queen Isabella, with the sceptre of royalty in
her hand.

The Queen, who is said to have been very lovely, with fair hair and clear
blue eyes, received him graciously, listened, was convinced by his eloquence,
and standing up implored the blessing of Heaven upon him.

The “Starting of Columbus from Palos, on his first voyage,” is the next
scene. Taking leave of his son, whom the good brotherhood of La Rabida
pledged themselves to care for and educate, Columbus is about to embark on,
his first great voyage.

Vespucci stands at the left of this picture. He claimed to have been one
of the discoverers of America; but history disputes the assertion. At the right
is Gonzales De Mendoza, Archbishop of Toledo, at whose table Columbus
solved the problem of standing an egg on one end, by crushing the shell.

Then comes the “ First Landing of the Spanish at San Salvador.”

This is the transom panel, and occupies the semicircular sweep over the
whole door.

After innumerable perils, and misgivings even in his own mind, Columbus
finally sighted land; which proved to be one of the Bahama Islands, on which


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































MOUNT VERNON FROM THE POTOMAC.
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 11g

he joyfully landed, and in pursuance of his own intentions and the promise of
his sovereign King and Queen, he planted the cross and proclaimed his new
conquest, San Salvador.

Over the picture in this panel the grand, calm face of Columbus looks out,
yet even in its casing of bronze wears an expression of profound sadness.
Beneath is the eagle with outspread wings, and still lower on either side are

‘two female heads.

We come now to the “First Encounter of the Discoverers with the
Indians.”

At first the natives hid themselves, looking with distrust (as well they
might) at these powerful white men, and the sacred symbol they planted with
all the imposing ceremony of worship.

Columbus himself appeared in a suit of scarlet and gold, and his followers
had arrayed themselves with like splendor. :

The sailors at once set out on an exploring expedition. The frightened
natives ran before them; but by dint of brute force, and not unlikely by recourse
to firearms, they succeeded in capturing a young Indian girl, and brought her
in triumph to the men in command, expecting to receive their thanks for this
cowardly deed.

Instead of that, Columbus sternly rebuked the men, and ordered that the
captive be set at liberty at once, which was accordingly done.

This is one of the most forcible pictures, and tells the story at once.
The cross shines on the heights in the distance, and the grouping is
excellent.

The statue in the niche at the left of this panel is that of Francisco
Pizarro, conqueror of Peru. Alexander VI. occupies the niche at the right.

The next panel shows the “Triumphant Entry into Barcelona,” and. is
considered the finest in the portrayal of the story.

The whole scene wears a triumphant aspect. Columbus, richly dressed,
is mounted on a spirited steed. Everything that can inspire a man lends
interest to the procession. He is a conqueror who has not bought his glory
by war and carnage.

Following him come the dusky natives who ‘aie been willing to enter his
train, brilliant with plumes and jewels and gold from that far new country.
Preceding him go the courtiers and priests, with banners, music, and incense.
His crews march in the rear, laden with palm-branches, all kinds of lovely
birds, and tropical wonders.

Against the blue sky floats the white banner of the Admiral, bearing the
words, “For Castile and for Leon, Columbus has discovered a New World.”
120 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

On the left and right of this panel are Vasco Nunez de Balboa and King
Ferdinand.

In striking contrast to this brilliant pageant comes the ignominious por-
trayal of chains and captivity, ‘Columbus in Chains.”

His enemies had turned the King against him, and Columbus was super-
seded as Governor by an officer in the royal service, named Bobadilla, who



MOUNT VERNON.

had the audacity to send the great discoverer home in chains. His guards,
men of power and standing, would have removed his fetters.

“No,” said Columbus, proudly, “ their Majesties commanded me by letter.
to submit to whatever Bobadilla should order in their name. I will wear these
fetters until they order them to be taken off, and I will preserve them after-
ward as relics and memorials of the reward of my services.”

He kept his word, and the chains were buried with him.
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. I2I

The last panel, “ The Death of Columbus,” has for its left and right support
the brother of Columbus, and Charles VIII. of France.

Pinzon, a rich merchant and mariner, who aided Columbus with service
and money, stands on the right. On the left is John II. of Portugal.

It is an affecting picture, and calculated to teach an enduring lesson of the
world’s ingratitude. The old priest holds up the cross, and implores him to
turn his dying eyes upon it. A friend or two weep at his bedside.



























































































































































































































































































































































































"ALONG THE WHARVES, GEORGETOWN.

Some good woman — of kin to him, it may be — holds upon her bosom
the head that has thought so wisely. Almost a martyr at the time of
his death, now he is held by a grateful people in equal respect with our
own Washington. :

The one discovered a continent on which were planted the germs
of a mighty nation. The other was the father and saviour of that nation,
which owes its existence to the life, faith, and suffering of Christopher
Columbus.
122 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

A VERY STRANGE STORY.

ARTHUR hurried from. place to place in Washington, as visitors with
limited time usually do. He went to Mt. Vernon, and drank milk in Washing-
ton’s old kitchen, a long remembered refreshment amid such stately associ-
ations. He was.shown the place where General Washington threw a shilling or



TUE. 4
a)



ihe ae Bae Frc LANNE NEE f
Jr OPT. WORE ne ng ae

ae pS ~
yf

WASHINGTON’S TOMB.

a dollar or.a pebble or something across the Potomac (the thing thrown
varies with the story-teller). He of course visited the old and new tomb .of
Washington amid the singing trees. He stopped at majestic Arlington, with
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 123

”

its army of graves, whose silent procession of white marbles halts forever
under the green trees, and heard there the sunset gun of Washington, and saw
the flags of the city drop in the crimson twilight. He visited one grave — is
there another like it in all the world? —where two thousand soldiers sleep.























































SOLDIERS’ CEMETERY AT ARLINGTON.

The mocking birds sung in the magnolias, and the flowers burned in the sun’s
varied rays, as though there were no such thing as sorrow on the earth.

But how strange it is that amid grand scenes is the place of the wonder-
story that holds the mind!

Arthur had heard the outline of the strange Washington legend of the Van
Ness place, when he visited the ruin on the green Potomac marshes.
124 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“That old Van Ness place has a curious history,” he said to the party on
the Potomac boat. “I must go and see it again.”

“Ves,” said Mrs. Green; “there may be no truth in the ghost legend, but
to me it seemed haunted by the spirit of something that never happened.”






























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i!
wn :

cman































FORD’S THEATRE, WHERE PRESIDENT LINCOLN WAS ASSASSINATED.

“What was that?”

“Tt was intended at one time, near the end of the war, to abduct President
Lincoln, hide him in the Van Ness cellar, and:convey him across the Potomac,
and then demand a ransom for his life. It never happened; but the impression
of it is there.”
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 125

The next morning Arthur repaired to the Van Ness place again. He met
an old negro, with white hair, shuffling about the grounds.

‘An’ what brings you here so early, my little man?” asked the negro.

“Did you ever see the six white horses?” asked Arthur, coming directly to

the matter that haunted his imagination.

“Sho, now you hab got me shure.”
The negro sank all in a heap on one
of the picnic seats. ‘Did I ebber see
de six white horses? No, —but I’se
seen dem dat did. Dem horses comb
across riber on Christmas nights, — just
as de clock strikes twelve, and smoke
comes out of their necks, and the smoke
has the faces ob the big men gone;
this place used to be great on Christ-
mas days.”

‘“ Where do the horses come from?”































































































































“Dey belonged to old Mayor Van. FE

Ness. He thought a deal ob’em, as I’ve
hern tell; and when dey returned from
his funeral, dey all of dem drap right
down dead. An’ dey come an’ listen
for him at the doo’ ebry Christmas-
night just at de midnight cock-crowin’.
‘There! ”

“T wish I could meet some one who
hhad seen the horses,” said Arthur.

‘Well, boy, I tell you what you do.
You come here this ebenin’ after the
picnic, an’ ole Aunt Maria will be here:
she’s seen de horses.”

Arthur visited the site of old Ford’s
Theatre, where President Lincoln was
shot, and the house in which the great
commoner died. He went to the State



HOUSE WHERE THE PRESIDENT DIED.

Department to see the original Declaration of Independence, the first draft of
the Constitution of the United States, and the National Seal. Towards nightfall
he wandered down the green avenue that passes the White House, and came
again to the picnic ground in the Van Ness yard. Here he met Aunt Maria.
126 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“Seen ’em, yes, honey; I has now, shure as your bawrn. Old Si, he tell ye
about ’em dis marnin’. Well, old Si, he hain’t no sense of de ting at all. Dem
horses did n’t fell down ded after comin’ home from de funeral. Dey all went
out into de medders yere, an’ dey all died ob broken hearts, and de riber rose
and covered ’em.

“Well, honey, when de day come round on which old Mayor Van Ness
died, just at midnight, what should appear but dem six white horses? Dey









NEGRO QUARTERS.

entered de yard as still as def. Dem horses make no noise wid der hoofs.
Dey ’pears to walk onde air. An’ dey go round and round de great house,
an’ den dey all stop and listen, an’ smoke goes out ob der necks, ’cause dey
has n’t any heads.

“ Well, honey, one night long after de mayor died, I was at dis here house,
-a-workin’. I went to bed late, and jus’ as I had tooken off my black gown,
leavin’ me all underclothed in white, I looked out ober de Potomac, and what
did I see but dem identical horses? I jus’ felt de hair crawlin’ all ober my head,
and shouted ‘Ki! hi!’ and I leaped down dem stairs all jus’ as I was in white.
An’ I leaped ober de box-hedges, and run out into de street, and who should I
sce but de colored people comin’ late from the revibal meetin’? I shouted
‘Hants, hants!’ wid a powerful voice; and dey took me for one ob de gosts.
An’ dey all run like de deer, and Parson Gob he hid in de brambles, an’ nebber
come out until marnin’. Dey beliebs dat dey saw de Van Ness gost to
dis day.”

“Wasn't it the mist that you saw, Aunt Maria?”
é
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 127

‘““You go way! You came from up Nof, an’ hab an unbelievin’ soul.
Stans to reason dem horses want no mist, — though de mist do rise very curiously
on der marshes sometimes, especially when de moon am shinin’. Mist? Wot
put dat into your head, boy. You tinks I knows, don’t yer?”

Aunt Maria gave her turban several indignant nods, and said, “ Mist?
mist?”

The red sunset shone through the trees as Arthur left the old rose gardens.
The Monument towered aloft nearly six hundred feet high, half in sunset light
and half in shadow. It is the world’s greatest cenotaph and the highest perma-
nent structure in the world. It is thirty-five feet higher than the great cathedral
of Cologne. It cost nearly a million of dollars. ,

From the Columbian Doors of the Capitol the class went to
Chicago, to see the more wonderful monuments to the faith of the
Great Genoese.

In Washington Arthur began his collection for his Home
Museum. In a store where “war relics” were sold, he vurchased.
many Curiosities from the battle-fields. He gathered leaves and
flowers, which he pressed, from the grounds of the old Van Ness
Mansion, and acorns at Mt. Vernon and Arlington.

He made a collection of Magnolia leaves from the grounds of the
tomb of Washington at Mt. Vernon, and from the soldiers’ cemetery at
Arlington. These he kept until they were dry, and then wrote
patriotic sentiments on them: like, “On fame’s eternal camping-
ground,” “A people is known by the men they crown,” “He is
worthiest noble who ennobles himself.” He also gathered leaves and
wild-flowers from the cemetery in which rests the author of “ Home,
Sweet Home,” and on the pressed leaves wrote, “Oh, give me my
lowly thatched cottage again!”

Mrs. Green continued her story-telling amid these inspiring scenes.
The class will long recall the incident that she related out of her stores
of incidents of history, as she turned away from the Columbian doors,
and sat down on the great stone-seats in the wild wall of the park of
the Capitol.
128 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

THE SEA OF THE DISCOVERY.

Tue Bahama Sea is perhaps the most beautiful of all waters. Columbus
beheld it and its islands with a poet’s eye.

“Tt only needed the singing of the nightingale,” said the old mariner, “to
make it like Andalusia in April; ” and to his mind Andalusia was the loveliest
place on earth. In sailing among these gardens of the seas in the serene and
transparent autumn days after the great discovery, the soul of Columbus was at
times overwhelmed and entranced by a sense of the beauty of everything in it
and about it. Life seemed, as it were, a spiritual vision.

“T know not,” said the discoverer, “where first to go; mor are my eyes
ever weary of gazing on the beautiful verdure. The singing of the birds is
such that it seems as if one would never desire to depart hence.” :

He speaks in a poet’s phrases of the odorous trees, and of the clouds of
parrots whose bright wings obscured the sun. His description of the sea and
its gardens are full of glowing and sympathetic colorings, and all things to him
had a spiritual meaning.

On announcing his discovery on his return, he breaks forth into the follow-
ing highly poetic exhortation: “ Let processions be formed, let festivals be
held, let lauds be sung. Let Christ rejoice on earth!”

Columbus was a student of the Greek and Latin poets, and of the poetry of
the Hebrew Scriptures. The visions of Isaiah were familiar to him, and he
thought that Isaiah himself at one time appeared to him in a vision. He loved
Nature. To him the outer world was a garment of the Invisible; and it was
before his great soul had suffered disappointment that he saw the sun-flooded
waters of the Bahama Sea and the purple splendors of the Antilles.

There is scarcely an adjective in the picturesque _teport of Columbus
in regard to this sea and these islands that is not now as appropriate and fit-
ting as in the days when its glowing words delighted Isabella, four hundred
years ago.

I recently passed from the sea of Watling’s Island, the probable “San Sal-
vador,” to the point of Cuba discovered on the 28th of October, 1492, and to
the coast of Haiti, the Hispaniola of Columbus, and the scene of the first settle-
ment in the New World. I had studied the descriptions of Columbus, and
almost every hour of the voyage brought them to mind like so many pictures.

Watling’s Island was probably the first landfall of Columbus, and the scene
of the dramatic events of the elevation of the cross, the singing of the Te
Deum, and the unfurling of the banner of the double crowns of Leon and
Castile on the red morning of October 12, 1492.






























































































































































































































































































































































WASHINGTON NAVY YARD.
a
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL, 131

The San Salvador of the old maps, or Cat Island, a place now of some four
thousand inhabitants, was not really the scene of Columbus's landing.

Watling’s Island lies far out in the sea. It is cooled by waving palms, and
is full-of singing birds. It has a tall lighthouse-tower, painted. white, which
rises nobly over the water. Its light can be seen nearly twenty miles. As one
sees it, one recalls the fact that no friendly light except the night fagots of the
Indians guided the eye of Columbus. oe

Watling’s Island has a population of less than seven hundred souls, and is
not often visited by large steamers.

I secured some fine specimens of “ Sargasso,” or gulf-weed, in passing
through this sea, one of which I bottled in salt-water. .

Over these waters continually drift fields of this peculiar seaweed. It is of
a bright yellow color; it shines brilliantly in the sun, and at a distance presents
a scene of dazzling splendor. The “ berries,” which sailors say are poisonous
to certain kinds of fish, are very salt. The weed seems always to move west
before the trade-winds. /

Over these fields of shining drift, land birds came Singing to the ships of the
adventurers; and on one of the matted beds a land-crab appeared, —a sure
indication of a near shore. ‘

The crews of Columbus feared to enter the Sargasso Sea. They had been
told that in sailing west they would come to a sea of monsters, and’ they feared
that these ocean meadows might cover hidden foes and perils.

The peculiar beauty of the Bahama Sea is its dlearness and deep purple
color. This dark purple color is said to be the result of the “ shadow of deep
waters,” though whether this is a scientific view I do not know. Under a
cloudless sky the sea is luminous purple.

A cloud shadow changes this royal hue into emerald. One gazes down
into deeps unknown, and sees the pairs of dolphins as clearly as the white-
winged birds overhead. One’s eye follows the flying-fishes as clearly when
they go down as when they dart into the open air. One here dreams of coral
gardens, of sea nymphs, and recalls the ancient poets’ conceptions of Oceanus
and Neptune. All fancies seem possible to the creative imagination here.

On the islands of the Greater and Lesser Antilles, or the Columbian Seas,
grow the most abundant cocoanut groves in the world. The trees are graceful
and lofty, and as a rule are slanted ‘by the winds. They bear a solid burden
of fruit.

“I have counted from. forty to fifty cocoanuts on a single tree!” I said to
an officer of my steamer, in surprise.

“T have counted a hundred,” was his answer.
132 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

It seems unaccountable that so slender’ a trunk can hold aloft in the air
such a weight of fruit. ,

The nuts are not only numerous on a single palm, but of great size. A.
single nut often yields a pitcher of cocoanut water, or two goblets, as we might:
say. The palms of all the islands must be as fruitful to-day as when the first.
voyagers saw them.

Columbus speaks of flocks of parrots that “darkened the sun.” Such
flocks do not appear now; but in every port of the Antilles there is a parrot
market. The natives love their parrots, and the cool trees and drinking-stands.
of the parrot market make a popular place of resort.

As a rule, the birds are not confined in cages. They are left to climb about
on the booths in which cocoanut water and cool drinks are sold. The people
extend their hands to them, and the birds walk into them for the sake of gifts,
caresses, and admiration.

Women kiss these parrots, and hold their heads close to their lips when
talking to them. The birds are usually jealous and ungrateful, and have but
little to commend them but their art of begging and their beauty.

Nearly all cities in Latin America have statues to Colon, or Columbus.
One of the most beautiful of these is in the Paseo of the City of Mexico.
These statues usually represent the great mariner as of most distinguished
appearance; lofty, chivalrous, poetic.

The statue to Columbus in Nassau in the Bahamas is quite a different con-
ception. We find in it the sturdy and traditional English tar. It is what
Columbus might have been had he been born an Englishman. As England
herself has. been in effect transported to Nassau, New Providence, so has art:
here been made to take on her type and expression.

The popular figure of Columbus as he stood at San Salvador on the morn-
ing of the 12th of October, 1492, as it appears in Spanish prints, may here
everywhere be found. It is a wholly different figure and face from the English
statue.

The glory of the Bahama Sea is the night. A sudden hush falls upon the
purple serenity; the sunset flames, and the day is done. The- roof of heaven
seems low, and the stars come out like silver suns.

One does not need to look upward to see the stars, but down. The heavens.
are below as well as above; the sky is in the sea.

The shadowy forms of pairs of dolphins pass under the transparent waters.
almost as distinctly as by day. The atmosphere, sky and sea all blend as one
world.

Amid such unimagined brilliancy and splendor the soul becomes a revela-~
THE COLUMBIAN DOORS OF THE CAPITOL. 133

tion to herself in the consciousness of beauty-worship, and thought takes
wings.

One recalls the pictures that Columbus gives of the expansion of his own
soul.. One here feels a longing to attain larger knowledge and all that is best
in life, and wonders what new discoveries may await the spiritual faculties in
wider horizons than these.

Wherever he may go, the tourist will ever return in memory to the Sea of
the Great Discovery. It is the paradise of the Ocean World, the temple gate of
the West.

A GRAND THANKSGIVING.

THAT was a great Thanksgiving when, in the early spring of 1493, Colum-
bus returned from his first voyage of discovery to Palos, and hastened to meet
the Spanish sovereigns at Barcelona. Columbus was a man of faith. ‘‘ God
made me the messenger of the new heavens and the new earth,” he said in his
old age, ‘‘ and told me where to find them.” It was this faith that inspired
him to weigh the earth, and to travel the unknown seas.

Palos was full of excitement as the banner of the cross and crowns of
‘Columbus rose above the wave, and streamed into the harbor. The bells rung.
‘On landing, Columbus and his crew went to the principal church, accompanied
by the whole population, and offered up solemn thanksgivings for the success
of the expedition.

Columbus hastened to Barcelona to meet the Court. His journey was a
‘march of triumph.

It was the middle of April, the month of nightingales and flowers. Colum-
‘bus entered the city amid music, bells, and shouts of triumph. Ferdinand and
Isabella, seated under a superb canopy, received him as a viceroy rather than
an admiral, and requested him to relate to them the history of his voyage. He
did so, surrounded by the Indians whom he had brought with him, with their
gay plumes, and offerings of tropic birds and fruits.

As he ended his wonderful narrative, there arose a burst of music, and.
«bore away to heaven the thoughts of the sovereigns and nobles and people,
already thrilled and melted by the most marvellous tale ever told of human
achievement. ,

It was the chapel-choir of Isabella.

“We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the. Lord; all the
earth doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting.”

The majestic Latin hymn swept on, until it reached the sublime words: —
134 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“Holy, holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of the majesty
of thy glory!”

The great audience was filled with ecstatic devotion. It was, perhaps, the
most happy moment of Columbus’s life, —this first thanksgiving for the new
world.

The two stories awakened such an interest in the young peoples’
minds, both in the Fair and Ocean World of the Antilles, that the way
to Chicago was full of joyous hope and anticipation. Nothing so
makes life happy as bright prospects, and in such prospects the class
lived during the rest of the journey to Jackson Park at the Columbian
Fair, and to the tomb of Columbus at Havana, by way of the great
Mississippi Valley and the Mexican Gulf. .

In Washington the party had been introduced to several persons
who were interested in the great World’s Fair. Among them a com-
missioner from Jamaica. He accompanied the party from their hotel,
on their last visit to the Capitol, and listened with deep interest to.
Mrs. Green’s well-prepared incident. —

As they sat on the stone seats near the Washington statue, in
front of the Capitol, Arthur said to the Jamaican commissioner : —

“You live in the Antilles. How does the Sea of Discovery appear
to-day?”

The answer was very intelligent. The commissioner loved the
beauty of the Bahama Sea.
CHAPTER IX.

CHICAGO AND THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR.

THE WONDERS OF 1893. — THE Story oF BLACK PARTRIDGE. — Dark Days oF OLp.

{HICAGO is the head of the great Mississippi Valley.
Situated on the Lake though she is, she yet wears
the crown of that vast empire that the Father of
Waters leads from the crystal lands of the Red
River of the North to the territory of the Red
River of the South and to the sunny Gulf whose
shores are the tropics. One of the missionary fathers of the old days
of Earliest America is said to have seen a vision of a populous city
in the sky when his canoe touched the shores of Lake Michigan,
where now the most progressive city in the world lifts her steeples in
the air. It would not seem strange that a pioneer should have such
a vision.

The city arose as under the wand of enchantment. Here came
La Salle, and vanished. Here lived and fought the tribes of the
Illini, and passed away; their plumes disappearing in the sunset as
they set out toward the Mississippi after they had signed the Treaty
of Chicago, —a scene worthy of a painter, and one that should have
representation at the Great Fair. In 1812 Chicago, or Fort Dearborn,
was a place of slaughter.

But a village was founded, where the larks used to quiver in the
air, enraptured with song; where the star-grass grew, and the rain-
plover prophesied. The world seemed to seek that village by a


136 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

strange and intuitive gravitation. The village became a town, the
town a rapid city, and the wonder grew. The waves of fire rolled
over Lake Michigan, but the city rose again.

She glimmers to-day over the inland ocean, the Queen of the
West, and invites to her Aladdin palaces and marts and bazars
the -world. She has
joined the Lakes with
the Mississippi, and
made far Tampa her
port of South America.
Her park system covers
thirty miles; and over
these Art is planting the
statues of heroes in one

































































































































































































































































































































long procession,

FIRST HOUSE IN CHICAGO. The Spanish Class
stopped at the Auditorium ; and they made their first visit to Lincoln
Park, the home park of the city, and here took their first broad view
of the great inland sea. _

At the entrance of the Park is the grand anne statue of Lincoln,
which stands in a serious but hospitable attitude on a semicircular
platform of state. Near it is the severe but beautiful statue of La
Salle; and beyond it, on a gray stone arch, the equestrian statue of
General Grant.

The Park is full of trees, beautiful gardens, and cool drives; but
its glory is the view of Lake Michigan. The pearl-green waters look
cheerless and monotonous at times; but they always excite a sense
of vastness and power. To see the lake when it turns purple as
robed for the sunset, or crimson as the flaming disk of the sun dis-
appears, or silver under the rising moon, which here is a night sun,
is an event for an eternal memory.

Arthur thought little of the statues, the gardens, | or the great sea.




WABASH AVENUE, CHICAGO, 1870.
CHICAGO AND THE WORLD'S GREAT FAIR. 139

He did not even talk of the famous Indian group which holds the
eye of most young people. He hurried his parents and the class away
to the “Zoo,” as the Zodlogical Gardens were called.

“T want to see the bears,” he said.

“ But the bears are not historical,” said his sister.

“Yes, yes, they are. The bears are all that is left of old America,”

Europe has but one famous bear-pit, — that at Berne, — but the
_ picturesque bear-pits in American cities are many. The bear-pits

in Chicago are very interesting; and all children are likely to hurry
towards them as soon as they enter the Park. ‘

“Stand back!” said a very careful old gentleman, as the party
stood looking at the playful bears. “ Zfe little girl lost her life in
that way.”

Who “the little girl” was they never knew; but one of the assist- |
ants at the Zoo told them a wonderful story of a little girl who fell
into the bear-pit, and was carried around in the mouth of one of the
bears, and was rescued by a newsboy.

Jackson Park, the scene of the Great World’s Fair, comprises
some six hundred acres, and is full of beautiful water-ways. There
the buildings of the exhibition were rising like a new Troy,— wonderful
‘structures that seemed to be filled with the spirit of the progress of
the world. Hither the world will come and go; and the event will end
the progress of the nineteenth century, which has been the grand
march of the nations. May the twentieth century bring eternal
brotherhood and peace!

It has been said that the “first white man of Chicago was a negro.”
The first settler was a slave from the West Indies. Marquette came
to the Chicago River in a dying condition. The history of Fort Dear-
born and the Kinzie family are full of thrilling episodes.

From the high towers of the Columbian buildings what will the
tourist see? As surprising a spectacle surely as was seen from the’
Eifel tower of Paris, if not one as old and grand. He will see America.
- 140 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The art of the whole may not equal the Paris Expositions, — art is
the ripe fruit of what is old; but in progress, enterprise, and science
it will surpass any like exhibition ever held in the world. Here the
States of the Union, and the Republics and empires of the world will
build a great city of concord and peace.

The Administration Building, two hundred and fifty feet square,
will be the seat of a congress where all men may meet. as brothers
and discuss the progress of mankind as a brotherhood. The twelve
great buildings on the lagoon will rise like the palaces of Venice, and
around them will cluster the homes of the assembled nations. On
one hand spreads the great London and Paris of the West, and on
the other the boundless lake. The buildings will present every form
of grace and beauty; and the water park will give an expression to
the scene unlike any other exposition of the kind ever held in the
world.

‘Here for the first time the old nations will meet South America,
Central America, and Mexico. The South American Republics have
met the opportunity with liberality and intelligence. Their build-
ings will be costly, beautiful, and representative. Here, too, for the
first time will be seen the progressive enterprises of women of all
lands.

Electricity and steam will here unfold their wonders. Art here
may be less luxurious than in the European exhibitions of the past;
but it will be American, unique, and new, and will wear the face of
the future.

The success of the event is assured. The world will meet as it
has never before met, —the nations will make one city on the shores
of Lake Michigan. There will come the crusader of peace, and the
captains of industry will part at last with warmer hearts and closer
ties of brotherhood. . a
. At Chicago the class caught the spirit, and felt the pulse of the
West. Everything here seemed to be upon the march. Men and






7) A

Ls > i

Ww:





THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING, COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION.
CHICAGO AND THE WORLD'S GREAT LATLR. 143

women lived in what they were doing. Progress, like a bow, spanned
the city, the land, and the sea, .

“I would tire of all this activity,” said one of the class to one of the
Auxiliary Committee of the fair. -

“In Chicago we live two years in one,” was the answer; “and
that is the best life that demands all our energies. Chicago works;
other cities play. People with a progressive purpose all love Chicago.”

There is truth in the remarks, and in a brief sentence that
followed, —

“ Chicago does /”

Arthur collected old books and pamphlets from the street book-
stalls in Chicago for his museum. He secured a pass for the Expo-
sition’ grounds, and found many curious things to bring away as
souvenirs.

“Well, Arthur,” asked Mrs. Green on his return from relic-hunt-
ing, “what is the most wonderful thing that the people will see at
the Fair when it opens in May, 1893?”

“Ask me questions,” said Arthur, “and: I will tell you.” He al-
ways liked to engage his mother in guessing talks.

“The Illinois State Building, which is to cost nearly a million,
and which looks like the Capitol at Washington?” asked Mrs. Green,
who enjoyed these talks which took the form of a puzzle.

“No, — not that.”

“The Woman’s Building, with its roof gardens? This was designed
by Sophia G. Hayden, a Boston girl of the Institute of Technology,
who secured the first prize of one thousand dollars offered for such a
design. That ought to appeal to American pride.”

“ No, — not that.”

“The Horticultural Building, which is to be a new Crystal
Palace?” ;

“No,” said Arthur. “Ask again.”

“The great War Ship, where the N avy is to make its exhibit?”
144 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ No, mother.”

“The Art Palace, with Winged Victory rising over the lagoon ra

« No, again.” .

“Machinery Hall, which is to cost $1,200,000, and represent the
triumphs of the scientific mind of the world?”

“No; that is grand, but not that.”

“The beautiful Administration Dome, the gem of all the lagoon
palaces?”

“No; that is beautiful, but not that.”

“The Electrical Building, with its floor area of twenty-seven
acres?”

“No, no!”

“The Liberal Arts Building, with a floor area of forty acres?”

a. No, no.”

“The great Aquaria?”

“ No, mother.”

“Then, my dear boy, I will have to cease questioning you. To
me the most wonderful developments of the Fair are the facts that
Mexico has appropriated $750,000, and Japan $500,000 for their build-
ings. These are new nations in historical progress, and they have
exceeded the old.” Mrs. Green paused.

“ Oh, I know now,” she continued. ‘“ The lagoons are to illumine
under the water, and they will glow like fire. The Fair City will be
like Venice illuminated. Was it the’electric canals or waters of which
you were thinking?”

“No, wrong again, mother.”

“ Not Mexico’s Palace of the Aztecs, nor Ecuador's Temple of the
Sun?” . .

“No —I will tell you, mother: it is just Chicago.”

“Well, Arthur, I think that you are right. My wonder grows at
all I see. Seventy years ago Chicago was * Cobweb Castle, and now
it is to be the Congress of the World. Who would have dreamed of
























































THE WOMAN’S BUILDING,





THE HORTICULTURAL BUILDING.
CHICAGO.AND THE WORLD'S GREAT FAIR. I47
*

such a city and such achievements in the dark days that followed the
Massacre of 1812?” Mrs. Green continued: “The principal residence
in Chicago for many years was that of the Kinzies. The family were
friendly to the Indians; and among their Indian visitors were Shau-
bena, Black Partridge, and Sagaunash, a half-breed. These chiefs
were true friends to John Kinzie and his family.

“Of these noble redmen, all of whom are worthy of monuments
in the art of the Great Exposition, Black Partridge had really a
Roman heroism and character. At the beginning of the Indian hos-
tilities he came to the commanding officer of the post and said, —

“* Father, I have come to deliver up the medal I wear. It was
given to me by Americans. But the young men of my race are re-
solved on war against you. I cannot restrain them, and honor forbids
that I should wear the medal any longer.’ .

“ The Kinzies were warned of their danger, and attempted to leave
the post in a boat. They were detained on the river, and at last com-
pelled to return to their home. The troops were ordered to march
away, and abandon the post, but were surprised and slaughtered by the
Indians when but a little way from their abandoned defences. This
surprise and its dreadful work is known as the Massacre of Chicago.”

Mrs. Helm, a step-daughter of Mr. Kinzie, wrote a very graphic
narrative of the scenes of those tragic days. We produce a part of it
here, —the attempt of the troops and people to escape under the friendly
escort of the Miamis, and the attack of the hostile Pottowattamies.

THE MASSACRE OF CHICAGO.

AFTER we had left the bank, the firing became general. The Miamis fled
at the outset. Their chief rode up to the Pottowattamies and said, —

“You have deceived the Americans and us. You have done a bad action,
and,” brandishing his tomahawk, “I will be the first of a party of Americans to
return and punish your treachery.” So saying, he galloped after his compan-
ions, who were now scouring across the prairies.

The troops behaved most gallantly. They were but a handful, but they
148 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

seemed resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Our horses pranced
and bounded, and could hardly be restrained as the balls whistled among them.
I drew off a little, and gazed upon my husband and father, who were yet un-
harmed. I felt that my hour was come, and endeavored to forget those I loved,
and prepare myself for my approaching fate.

_ While I was thus engaged, the surgeon, Dr. Van Voorhes, came'up. He
was badly wounded. His horse had been shot under him, and he had received
a ball in his leg. Eyery muscle of his face was quivering with the agony of
terror. He said to me, “Do you think they will take our lives? I am badly
wounded, but I think not mortally. Perhaps we might purchase our lives by
promising them a large reward. Do you think there is any chance?”

“Dr. Van Voorhes,” said I, “do not let us waste the few moments that yet
remain to us in such vain hopes. Our fate is inevitable. In a few moments we
must appear before the bar of God. Let us make what preparation is yet in
our power.”

“ Oh! I cannot die,” exclaimed he, “I am not fit to die, —if I had but a
short time to prepare — death is awful!”

I pointed to Ensign Ronan, who though mortally wounded and _ nearly
down, was still fighting with desperation on one knee.

“ Look at that man,” said I; “ at least he dies like a soldier.”

“Ves,” replied the unfortunate man, with a convulsive gasp, “ but he has no
terrors of the future, — he is an unbeliever! ”

At this moment a young Indian raised his tomahawk at me. By springing
aside, I avoided the blow which was intended for my skull, but which alighted
on my shoulder. I seized him around the neck, and while exerting my utmost
efforts to get possession of his scalping-knife, I was dragged from his grasp by
another and an older Indian.

The latter bore me struggling and resisting toward the river. Notwith-
standing the rapidity with which I was hurried along, I recognized as I passed
them the lifeless remains of the unfortunate surgeon. Some murderous toma-
hawk had stretched him upon the very spot where I had last seen him.

I was immediately plunged into the water and held with.a forcible hand,
notwithstanding my resistance. I soon perceived, however, that the object of
my captor was not to drown me, for he held me firmly in such a position as to
place my head above water. This reassured me, and regarding him attentively,
I soon recognized, in spite of the paint with which ‘he was disguised, the Black
Partridge.

When the firing had nearly subsided, my preserver bore me from the
water and conducted me up the sand-banks. It was a burning August


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GALLERIES OF FINE ARTS,
CHICAGO AND THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR. I5!I

morning, and walking through’ the sand in my ‘drenched condition was inex-
pressibly painful and fatiguing. I stooped and took off my shoes to free them
from the sand with which they were nearly filled, when a Squaw seized and
carried them off, and I was obliged to proceed without them. oS

When we had gained the prairie, I was met by my father, who told me
that my husband was safe and but slightly wounded. They led me gently
back toward the Chicago River, along the southern bank of which was the Pot-
towattamie encampment. At one time I was placed upon a horse without a
saddle ; but finding the motion insupportable, I sprang off. Supported partly
by my kind conductor, Black Partridge, and partly by another Indian, Pee-so-
tum, who held dangling in his hand a scalp, which by the black ribbon around
the queue I recognized as that of Captain Wells, I dragged my fainting steps
to one of the wigwams.

The wife of Wau-bee-nee-mah, a chief from the Illinois River, was stand-
ing near, and seeing my exhausted condition she seized a kettle, dipped up
some water from a stream that flowed near,! threw into it some maple sugar,
and stirring it up with her hand gave it to me to drink. This act of kindness
in the midst of so many horrors touched me most sensibly, but my attention
was soon diverted to other objects.

The fort had become a scene of plunder to such as remained. after the
troops marched out. The cattle had been shot down as they ran at large, and

_lay dead or dying around. This work of butchery had commenced just as we
were leaving the fort. I well remember a remark of Ensign Ronan, as the firing
went on. “Such,” turning to me, “is to be our fate, — to be shot down like
brutes!”

“Well, sir,’ said the commanding officer who overheard him, “are you
afraid?”

“No,” replied the high-spirited young man, “I can march up to the enemy
where you dare not show your face;” and his subsequent gallant behavior.
showed this to be no idle boast.

As the noise of the firing grew gradually less, and the stragglers from the
victorious party came dropping in, I received confirmation of what my father
had hurriedly communicated in our rencontre on the lake shore; namely, that
the whites had surrendered after the loss of about two thirds of their number.
They had stipulated, through the interpreter, Peresh Leclerc, for the preserva-

tion of their lives, and those of the remaining women and children, and for

2

their delivery at some of the British posts, unless ransomed by traders in the

1 Just by the present State Street Market.
152 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MiSSISSIPPTI.

Indian country. It appears that the wounded prisoners were not considered as
included in the stipulation, and a horrible scene ensued upon their being
brought into camp.

An old squaw, infuriated by the loss of friends, or excited by the
sanguinary scenes around her, seemed possessed by a demoniac ferocity. She
seized a stable fork and assaulted one miserable victim, who lay groaning
and writhing in the agony of his wounds, aggravated by the scorching beams
of the sun. With a delicacy of feeling scarcely to have been expected under
such circumstances, Wau-bee-nee-mah stretched a mat across two poles,
between me and this dreadful scene. I was thus spared in some degree a
view ‘of its horrors, although I could not entirely close my ears to the cries
of the sufferer. The following night five more of the wounded prisoners were .
tomahawked.

The Americans, after their first attack by the Indians, charged upon
those who had concealed themselves in a sort of ravine, intervening between
the sand-banks and the prairie. The latter gathered themselves into a body,
and after some hard fighting, in which the number of whites had become
reduced to twenty-eight, this little band succeeded in breaking through the
enemy, and gaining a rising ground, not far from the Oak Woods. ‘The contest
now seemed hopeless, and Lieutenant Helm sent Peresh Leclerc, a halfbreed boy
in the service of Mr. Kinzie, who had accompanied the detachment and fought
manfully on their side, to propose terms of capitulation. It was stipulated
that the lives of all the survivors should be spared, and a ransom. permitted
as soon as practicable.

But in the mean time a horrible scene had been enacted. One young
savage, climbing into the baggage-wagon containing the children of the white
families, twelve in number, tomahawked the children of the entire group.
This was during the engagement near the Sand-hills. When Captain Wells,
who was fighting near, beheld it, he exclaimed, —

“Ts that their game, butchering the women and children? Then I will
kill too!”

So saying, he turned his horse’s head, and started for the Indian camp,
near the fort, where had been left their squaws and children.

Several Indians pursued him as he galloped along. He laid himself flat
on the neck of his horse, loading and firing in that position, as/he would
occasionally turn on his pursuers. At length their balls took effect, killing
his horse, and severely wounding himself. At this moment he was met by
Winnemeg and Wau-ban-see, who endeavored to save him from the savages
who had now overtaken him. As they supported him along, after having

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MINERS’ AND MINING BUILDING.
CHICAGO AND THE WORLD'S GREAT FAIR. 155

disengaged him from his horse, he received his death-blow from another
Indian, Pee-so-tum, who stabbed him in the back.

The heroic resolution of one of the soldier’s wives deserves to be recorded.
She was a Mrs. Corbin, and had from the first expressed the determination
never to fall into the hands of the savages, believing that their prisoners were
always subjected to tortures worse than death.

When therefore a party came upon her to make her a prisoner, she
fought with desperation, refusing to surrender, although assured, by signs, of
safety and kind treatment, and literally suffered herself to be cut to pieces
rather than become their captive.

There was a Sergeant Holt, who early in the engagement received a
ball in the neck. Finding himself badly wounded, he gave his sword to, his
wife, who was on horseback with him, telling her to defend herself. He then
made for the lake, to keep out of the way of the balls. Mrs. Holt rode a very
fine horse, which the Indians were desirous of possessing; and they therefore
attacked her, in hopes of dismounting her. | ;

They fought only with the butt-ends of their guns, for their object was
not to kill her. She hacked and hewed at their pieces as they were thrust
against her, now on this side, now on that. Finally she broke loose from them,
and dashed out into the prairie. The Indians pursued her, shouting and
laughing, and now and then calling: out, —

“The brave woman! do not hurt her!”

At length they overtook her again, and while she was engaged with two
or three in front, one succeeded in seizing her by the neck behind, and drag-
ging her, although a large and powerful woman, from her horse. Notwith-
standing that their guns had been so hacked and injured, and even themselves
cut severely, they seemed to regard her only with admiration. They took her
to a trader on the Illinois River, by whom she was restored to her friends,
after having received every kindness during her captivity.

Those of the family of Mr. Kinzie who had remained in the boat near
the mouth of the river were carefully guarded by Kee-po-tah and another
Indian. They had seen the smoke, then the blaze; and immediately after
the report of the first tremendous discharge sounded in their ears. Then all
was confusion. They realized nothing until they saw an Indian come towards
them from the battle-ground, leading a horse on which sat a lady, apparently
wounded. -

“That is Mrs. Heald;” cried Mrs. Kinzie. ‘That Indian will kill her.
Run, Chandonnai,” to one of Mr. Kinzie’s clerks, “take the mule that is tied
there, and offer it to him to release her.”
156 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Her captor by this time was in the act of disengaging her bonnet from
her head, in order to scalp her. Chandonnai ran up, offered the mule as a
ransom, with the promise of ten bottles of whiskey as soon as they should
reach his village. The latter was a strong temptation.

“ But,” said the Indian, “she is badly wounded, —she will die. Will you
give me the whiskey at all events?” \
Chandonnai promised that he would, and the bargain was concluded.
The savage placed the lady’s bonnet on his own head, and after an ineffectual
effort on the part of some squaws to rob her of her shoes and stockings, she
was brought on board the boat, where she lay moaning with pain from the

many bullet-wounds she had received in both arms..

The horse she had ridden was a fine spirited animal, and, being desirous
of possessing themselves of it uninjured, the Indians had aimed their shots so
as to disable the rider without injuring her steed.

She had not lain long in the boat, when a young Indian of savage aspect
was seen approaching. A buffalo robe was hastily drawn over Mrs. Heald, and
she was admonished to suppress all sound of complaint, as she valued her life.

The heroic.woman remained perfectly silent, while the savage drew near.
He had a pistol in his hand, which he rested on the side of the boat, while with
a fearful scowl he looked pryingly around. Black Jim, one of the servants,
who stood in the bow of the boat, seized an axe that lay near, and signed to.
him that if he shot, he would cleave his skull; telling him that the boat con-
tained only the family of Shaw-nee-aw-kee. Upon this the Indian retired. It
afterward appeared that the object of his search was Mr. Burnett, a trader from
St. Joseph’s, with whom he had some account to settle.

When the boat was at length permitted to return to the mansion of Mr.
Kinzie, and Mrs. Heald was removed to the house, it became necessary to dress
her wounds.

Mr. K. applied to an old chief who stood by, and who, like most of his
tribe, possessed some skill in surgery, to extract a ball from the arm of the
sufferer.

“No, father,” replied he, “I cannot do it, —it makes me sick here,” plac-
ing his hand on his heart.

Mr. Kinzie then performed the operation himself with his penknife.

At their own mansion the family of Mr. Kinzie were closély guarded by
their Indian friends, whose intention it was to carry them to Detroit for secu-
rity. The rest of the prisoners remained at the wigwams of their captors.

The following morning, the work of plunder being completed, the Indians
set fire to the fort. A very equitable distribution of the finery appeared to have








































THE GOVERNMENT BUILDING.
CHICAGO AND THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR. 159

been made; and shawls, ribbons, and feathers fluttered about in all directions.
The ludicrous appearance of one young fellow who had arrayed himself in a
muslin gown and the bonnet of one of the ladies, would, under other circum-
stances, have afforded matter of amusement.

Black Partridge, Wau-ban-see, and Kee-po-tah, with two other Indians,
having established themselves in the porch of the building as sentinels, to pro-
tect the family from any evil the young men might be excited to commit, all
remained tranquil for a short space after the conflagration.

Very soon, however, a party of Indians from the Wabash made their
appearance. These were, decidedly, the most hostile and implacable of all the
tribes of the Pottowattamies.

Being more remote, they had shared less than some of their brethren in
the kindness of Mr. Kinzie and his family, and consequently their sentiments of
regard for them were less powerful.

Runners had been sent to the villages to apprise them of the intended
evacuation of the post, as well as of the plan of the Indians to attack the
troops.

Thirsting to participate in such a scene, they hurried on; and great was
their mortification, on arriving at the river Aux Plaines, to meet with a party of
their friends having with them their chief Nee-scot-nee-meg, badly wounded,
and to learn that the battle was over, the spoils divided, and the scalps all
taken.

On arriving at Chicago they blackened their faces, and proceeded towards
the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie.

From his station on the piazza Black Partridge had watched their ap-
proach, and his fears were particularly awakened for the safety of Mrs. Helm
(Mr. Kinzie’s step-daughter), who had recently come to the post, and was per-
sonally unknown to the more remote Indians. By his advice she was made to
assume the ordinary dress of a French woman of the country; namely, a short
gown and petticoat, with a blue cotton handkerchief wrapped around her head.
In this disguise she was conducted by Black Partridge to the house of Ouil-
mette, a Frenchman with a half-breed wife, who formed a part of the establish-
‘ment of Mr. Kinzie, and whose dwelling was close at hand.

It so happened that the Indians came first to this house, in their search
for prisoners. As they approached, the inmates, fearful that the fair com-
plexion and general appearance of Mrs. Helm might betray her for an Ameri-
can, raised a large feather-bed and placed her under the edge of it, upon the
bedstead, with her face to the wall. Mrs. Bisson, the sister of Ouilmette’s wife,
then seated herself with her sewing upon the front of the bed.
160 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

It was a hot day in August, and the feverish excitement of fear and agita-
tion, together with her position, which was nearly suffocating, became so intol-
erable that Mrs. Helm at length entreated to be released and given up to the
Indians.

“T can but die,” said she; “let them put an end to my misery at once.’

Mrs. Bisson replied, ‘Your death would. be the destruction of us all, for
Black Partridge has resolved that if one drop of blood of your family is spilled,
he will take the lives of all concerned in it, even his nearest friends; and if the
work of murder commences, there will be no end of it, so long as there remains
’ one white person or half-breed in the country.”

This expostulation nerved Mrs. Helm with fresh resolution.

The Indians entered, and she could occasionally see them from her
hiding-place gliding about, and stealthily inspecting every part of the room,
though without making any ostensible search, until, apparently satisfied that
there was no one concealed, they left the house.

All this time Mrs. Bisson had kept her seat upon the side of the bed,
calmly sorting and arranging the patchwork of the quilt on which she was
engaged, and preserving an appearance of the utmost tranquillity, although she
knew not but that the next moment she might receive a tomahawk in her
brain,
From Ouilmette’s house the party of Indians proceeded to the dwelling of
Mr. Kinzie. They entered the parlor, in which the family were assembled with
their faithful protectors, and seated themselves upon the floor in silence.

Black Partridge perceived from their moody and revengeful looks what
was passing in their minds, but he dared not’ remonstrate with them. He only
observed in a low tone to Wau-ban-see, —

“We have endeavored to save our uabionds; but it is in vain, — nothing will
save them now.’

At this moment a friendly whoop was heard from a party of new-comers
on the opposite bank of the river. Black Partridge sprang to meet their
leader, as the canoes in which they had hastily embarked touched the bank
near the house.

“Who are you ?” demanded he.

“A man. Who are you ?”

“A man like yourself; but tell me wo you are,’—meaning, “ Tell me your
disposition, and which side you are for.”

“T am the Sau-ga-nash !”

“Then make all speed to the house,-—- your friend is in danger, and you
alone can save him.”


MACHINERY HALL.
CHICAGO AND THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR. 163

Billy Caldwell1— for it was he—entered the parlor with a calm step,
and without a trace of agitation in his manner. He deliberately took off his
accoutrements, and placed them with his rifle behind the door; then saluted
the hostile savages.

“How now, my friends! A good day to you. I was told there were

enemies here, but I am glad to find only friends. Why have you blackened
your faces? Is it that you are mourning for the friends you have lost in
battle,’ purposely misunderstanding this token of evil designs, “or is it
that you are fasting? If so, ask our friend here, and he will give you to eat.
He is the Indians’ friend, and never yet refused them what they had need of.”
_ Thus taken by surprise, the savages were ashamed to acknowledge their
bloody purpose. They therefore said modestly that they came to beg of
their friends some white cotton in which to wrap their dead, before interring
them. This was given to them with some other presents, and they took their
departure peaceably from the premises.

1 Billy Caldwell was a half-breed, and a chief of the nation. In his reply, “I am a Sau-ga-
nash,”’ or Englishman, he designed to convey, ‘‘I ama white man.” Had he said, “I am a
Pottowattamie,” it would have been interpreted to mean, “I belong to my nation, and am
prepared to go all lengths with them.”’

Ea
CHAPTER X.
THE LAND OF LINCOLN.
To St. Louis By THE WAY OF PEORIA AND SPRINGFIELD.

T Peoria the class stopped to visit Starved Rock,
where was the old French fort of St. Louis, and
where the last of the Illini were surrounded by the
Lake tribes,and perished. Poetry and legendary lore
here pictures a dramatic scene. The Lake tribes
came down from the north, and the Illini of the
prairies of flowers took their stand against them on the Rock of
the Illinois. Here, with abundant stores, and the cool water sparkling
beneath them, the prairie tribes thought that they were secure against
all enemies. But their stores became spent, and the canoes of their
foes cut off their supply of water, and they starved, and perished from
thirst. In their last fevers they could look down on the cool water of
the river which they could not reach, —a tragedy that might well excite
the imagination of a poet or an artist. Our country has many great
stories that art has not told; and this is one of them.

A land of corn-fields and wheat-fields, of oaks and streams, and we
are amid scenes which the name of Lincoln will ever make immortal.
The spires of Springfield rise in the clear, sunny air; the whistle
blows, and we are in the capital of the rich State of Illinois.

The class hurried away to see a plain house on a plain street,
which was once the home of the great President; then to the State
House, to wonder at its unsightly situation and magnificence; and:
then to that silent city without the city, where is no legislation, but




NEW STATE HOUSE, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS.

THE LAND OF LINCOLN. — 167
/
the tomb of the commoner to whom the world has given a place
among undying names.

The air was a dream of sunshine, and the corn-fields a golden
glory, as the class passed beyond the quiet, prosperous city limits.
The wide land of plenty and prosperity opened before them, and
seemed to nurture happiness everywhere. One could hardly dream
here that there had ever been a war.

Oak Ridge Cemetery, where the peaceful heart of Lincoln rests
amid the monumental scenes of war, originally consisted of a few
acres that were called a “graveyard.” It was enclosed by a fence by
the growing city; and here families dug graves where they pleased,
for the land was free.

The young city grew, and with it the city of the dead among the
oaks by its side. After the death of Lincoln and the great national
funeral, it passed under the control of the Lincoln Monument Asso-
ciation, having been selected as the place of a monument to the martyr
President that should endure for generations.

The Cemetery is about one and a half miles north from the new |
‘State House.

The class approached the Mausoleum with a feeling of awe, and
. stood silent for a time beneath the sunny shaft and dark groups of
statues.

“ The shoeless boy who came to Indiana, and lived in a house
place like this,” said Mr. Green to a soldier guarding the monument. —

“No,” answered the guard, who knew the history of the Lincoln
family well. “TI often think of Lincoln’s mother as I gaze up to the
shaft, and enter the chambers. Lincoln once said in Washington,
‘It was she that placed me here,’ and again, ‘ All that I am or all that
I ever hope to be I owe to my angel mother” Her name was Nancy
Hanks Lincoln, a simple Baptist pioneer, whose chief comfort was her
religion and her ability to sing hymns. She died when Abraham was
168 ZIGZAG FJOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

some ten years old, leaving two children. When she knew that she
was to die, she selected the place for her grave under some great trees,


















RRA TE

TERR

THE LINCOLN MONUMENT, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.

and it was there that the boy Lincoln brought Elder Elkins all the
way from Kentucky to preach her funeral sermon.

“Come,” he continued, “come with me.” He led the class into
the monument, and pointed to a stone. “Read that!”
THE LAND OF LINCOLN. 169

The class read: — .

ABRAHAMO. LINCOLNIO
REGION. FOEDERAT. AMERIC. PRAESIDI. II.
HVNC. EX. SERVI. TVLLI AGGERE. LAPIDEM
OVO. VTRIVSOVE.
LIBERTATIS ADSERTORIS FORTISS
MEMORIA. CONIVNCATVR
CIVES. ROMANI
D.
A. MDCCCLXV

“Who was Servius Tullius ?” asked Arthtt of the guard.

“ He was the sixth king of Rome.”

“ And why is this stone here?”

“Tt was sent as a present to Abraham Lincoln by distinguished
citizens of Rome, on his second election as President. It was found
in the cellar of the White House. It is thought that President Lin-
coln was so overcome by the compliment of being compared to so
great a king that he modestly hid it there. But the stone was
prophecy.”

“How?”

“ Lincoln’s life and that of the Roman king were parallels. Both
were born of very poor parents; both emancipated the slaves of their
country; both were defenders of the principles of equal rights, and
both were assassinated, and fell martyrs to liberty.”

“ When did this king live?”

“ Nearly six hundred years before the birth of Christ.”

« And this stone was from the Roman wall that he erected?”

“Yes.” .

“Guard?”

“Do you think that Lincoln ever thought that ai of his life might
be like that of Servius Tullius?”

“T have thought so. That may be the reason why he wished to
_ hide the stone. He used to say to his friends that he would not sur-

vive the war; that his own life would end with his work. He said to
170 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

one: ‘I feel a presentiment that I shall not outlast the war. When it
is over, my work will be done;’ and to another he said: ‘I may not
see the end; but it will come, and I shall be vindicated.’ So you see
that he read his destiny.” ;





ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

When the party turned away from the stone coffin, Memorial Hall,
and the sun-flooded cemetery, it was to talk of Lincoln, and to seek —
among the sons and daughters of his old neighbors incidents of his

wonderful life.
THE LAND OF LINCOLN. 171

Lincoln. shrank from the terrible duty of war. He hated the
shedding of blood, and was happy in the thought of retirement and
peace. It is said that just before the assassination he said to his wife,
“ When the cares of State are over, I will go to Palestine.”

The late James Franklin Fitts some years ago contributed to the
“Youth’s Companion” a story which shows Lincoln’s heart. It is
vivid and dramatic in form, and written with evident feeling; and we
copy it here. It is a story worthy to live.

THE MESSAGE OF LIFE.

TWENTY years ago I was one of many witnesses of a scene that has left
upon my memory an impress perhaps deeper than that of any other occurrence
of that stirring time. The sequel of the story, which I learned some months
afterwards, is narrated here with the principal event; and both together
deserve a larger audience than any that has yet heard them, because they
touch the heart and arouse those feelings of sympathy which make the whole
world kin.

It was in February, 1865. I was a staff-officer of a division of the Union
Army stationed about Winchester, Virginia; and military operations being
then practically over in that region, I had succeeded in getting leave of
absence for twenty days. The time was short enough, at best, for one who had
been long absent from family and friends, and two days were to be consumed:
each way in getting to and from my Northern home. I lost no time in making
the first stage of my journey, which was a brief one, from Winchester to
Harper’s Ferry, by rail.

Reaching the latter place after dark, I found, to my great disappointment,
that the last train for the day for Baltimore had left an hour before, and that
the next train would start at five o’clock on the following morning.

There was no difficulty in finding a lodging, poor as it was; but there was
trouble in getting out of it as early as I wished. Previous experience warned
me that the state of agreeable excitement and anticipation that possessed me
that night was not favorable to sleep; and fearing a heavy slumber in the early
hours of the morning, when I should at last lose myself, I gave a small
reminder to the negro servant, and received his solemn promise that he would
arouse me at four o’clock.

The result was exactly what I feared. In a most exasperating condition of
172 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI,

wakefulness I lay until it seemed certain that the night must be half gone; but
an examination of my watch by the light of a match showed that the hour
was but a few minutes past ten. Is there anything more annoying than the
ineffectual effort to sleep, when Nature is fairly crying out for sleep? Every
noise of the night came to me with the most painful distinctness, — the barking
of a dog, the tramp of a body of soldiers as they went their rounds relieving
guard, the laugh and song of some boisterous revellers, and even the musical
ripple of the Shenandoah River just below me.

The long and vivid story of what had happened to me since last leaving
home passed through my thoughts, and only added to-their excitement. All
the wise remedies for insomnia that occurred to me were successively tried, and
found wanting. Again my watch was consulted; it marked half-past eleven.
Twice after this I heard the guard relieved; so that it must have been later
than two o’clock when sleep visited my weary eyes. A rude disturbance at
my door awakened me, and I became dimly conscious of tee voice of the
negro outside.

“What is it?” I cried testily. “What do you wake me up for at this
time of night?”

“Deed, sah, Ise sorry; *pon my honah, I is, sah! but de train hab done
gone dese two hours.” .

It was even so. Broad daylight — seven o’clock in the morning — the train
gone, and no chance to get out of Harper’s Ferry till twelve more precious
hours of my leave had passed, —this was the unpleasant situation to which I
awoke upon that dreary February morning. To make the best of it, is the
true philosophy of life; in fact, it is folly to do anything else; but human
nature will assert itself, and I grumbled all to myself that morning, as most of
my readers would have done in my place.

Breakfast over, I strolled around the queer old place, not to see its sights,
for they were very familiar to me, but merely to while away the time. Of all
the places in this land where man has made his habitation, none is more
remarkable from its natural situation than this.

Here the Potomac and the Shenandoah unite and break through the lofty
barrier of the Blue Ridge; and Harper’s Ferry, located at the point of their
confluence, is environed by lofty mountains, up the steep side of one of which
the village seems to clamber and cling for support. From the lofty top of
Maryland Heights, opposite, a wonderful natural panorama may be seen; and
of this view Thomas Jefferson wrote that it was worth a journey from Europe
to see it. But if you are set down in Harper’s Ferry, at the base of these
great hills, your view is cramped and circumscribed in every direction.
THE LAND OF LINCOLN. 173

I went back to the hotel after an hour's stroll, wrote some letters, read ‘all
the newspapers I could find about the place, and shortly after eleven o’clock
went out again. This time my ear was greeted with the music of a band,
playing a slow march. Several soldiers were walking briskly past, and I
inquired of them if there was to be a military funeral.

“No, sir,” one of them replied, —“ not exactly. It is an execution. Two
deserters from one of the artillery regiments here are to be shot up on Bolivar
Heights. Here they come!”

The solemn strains of the music were heard near at hand, and the cortége
moved into the street where we stood, and wound slowly up the hill. First
came the band; then General Stevenson, the military commandant of the post,
and his staff; then the guard, preceding and following an ambulance, in
which were the condemned men. A whole regiment followed, marching by
platoons, with reversed arms, making in the whole a spectacle than which
nothing can be more solemn. _

Close behind it came, as it seemed to me, the entire population of Harper's
Ferry; a motley crowd of several thousand, embracing soldiers off duty, camp-
followers, negroes, and what not. It was a raw, damp day, not a ray of sun-
light had yet penetrated the thick clouds, and under ‘foot was a thin coating of
snow. Nature seemed in sympathy with the misery of the occasion.

The spot selected for the dreadful scene was rather more than a mile up
the Heights, where a high ridge of ground formed a barrier for bullets that
might miss their mark. Arrived here, the troops were formed in two large
squares of one rank each, one square within the other, with an open face
toward the ridge. Two graves had been dug near this ridge, and a coffin was
just in rear of each grave. Twenty paces in front was the firiag-party of
six files, under a lieutenant, at ordered arms; the general and his staff sat on
their horses near the centre.

Outside the outer square, the great crowd of spectators stood in perfect
silence. The condemned men had been brought from the ambulance, and each
one sat on his coffin, with his open grave before him.

They were very different in their aspect. One, a man of more than forty
years, showed hardly a trace of feeling in his rugged face; but the other was a
mere lad, of scarcely twenty, who gazed about him with a wild, restless look, as
if he could not yet understand that he was about to endure the terrible punish-
ment of his offence.

The proceedings of the court-martial were read, reciting the charges against
these men, their trial, conviction, and sentence; and then the order of General
Sheridan approving the sentence, “to be shot to death with musketry,” and
174 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

directing it to be carried into effect at twelve o’clock noon of this day. The
whole scene was passing immediately before my eyes; fora staff-uniform will
pass its wearer almost anywhere in the army, and I had passed the guards and
entered the inner square.

A chaplain knelt by the condemned men and prayed fervently, whispered a
’ few words in the ear of each, wrung their hands, and retired. Two soldiers
stepped forward with handkerchiefs to bind the eyes of the sufferers, and I
heard the officer of the firing-party give the congas in a low tone: “ Atten-
tion !— shoulder — arms!”

I looked at my watch; it was a minute past twelve. The crowd outside had
been so perfectly silent that a flutter and disturbance running through it at this
instant fixed everybody’s attention. My heart gave a great jump as I sawa
mounted orderly urging his horse through the crowd, and waving a yellow
envelope over his head.

The squares opened for him, and he rode in and handed the envelope
to the general. Those who were permitted to see that despatch read the
following : —

WASHINGTON, D. C., Feb. 23, 1865.
Gen. Job Stevenson, Harper's Ferry.

Deserters reprieved till further orders. Stop the execution.

A. LiIncoLn.

The older of the two men had so thoroughly resigned himself to his fate
that he seemed unable now to realize that he was saved, and he looked around
him in a dazed, bewildered way.

Not so the other; he seemed for the first time to recover his consciousness.
He clasped his hands together, and burst into tears. As there was no military
execution after this at Harper’s Ferry, I have no doubt that the sentence of
both was finally commuted.

Powerfully as my feelings had been stirred by this scene, I still suspected
that the despatch had in fact arrived before the cortege left Harper's Ferry,
and that all that happened afterward was planned and intended as a terrible
lesson to these culprits. ,

That afternoon I visited General Stevenson at his headquarters, and after
introducing myself, and referring to the morning’s scene on Bolivar Heights,
I ventured frankly to state my suspicions, and ask if they were not well-
founded.

“Not at all,” he instantly replied. “The men would have been dead had
that despatch reached me two minutes later.”




























THE MESSAGE OF LIFE,



THE LAND OF LINCOLN. 177

“Were you not expecting a reprieve, general?”

“T had some reason to expect it last night; but as it did not come, and as
the line was reported down between here and Baltimore this morning, I had
given it up. Still, in order to give the fellows every possible chance for their
lives, I left a mounted orderly at the telegraph office, with orders to ride at a
gallop if a message came for me from Washington. It is well I did! —the
precaution saved their lives.”

How the despatch came to Harper’s Ferry must be told in the words of the
man who got it through.

THE TELEGRAPHER’S STORY.

On the morning of the 24th of February, 1865, I was busy at my work in
the Baltimore Telegraph Office, sending and receiving messages. At half-past
ten o’clock,-——for I had occasion to mark the hour, —the signal C—A—L,
several times repeated, caused me to throw all else aside, and attend to it.

That was the telegraphic cipher of the War Department; and telegraphers,
in those days, had instructions to put that service above all others. A message
was quickly ticked off from the President to the commanding officer at Har-
per’s Ferry, reprieving two deserters who were to be shot at noon. The mes-
sage was dated the day before, but had in some way been detained or delayed
between the Department and the Washington office.

A few words to the Baltimore office, which accompanied the despatch, ex-
plained that it had “stuck” at Baltimore ; that an officer direct from the Presi-
dent was waiting at the Washington office, anxious to hear that it had reached
Harper’s Ferry, and that Baltimore must send it on instantly.

Baltimore would have been very glad to comply; but the line to Harper’s
Ferry had been interrupted since daylight, — nothing whatever had passed. So
I explained to Washington.

The reply came back before my fingers had left the instrument. “You
must get it through. Do it, some way, for Mr. Lincoln. He is very anxious ;
has just sent another messenger to us.”

I called the office-superintendent to my table, and repeated these despatches
to him. He looked at the clock.

“Almost eleven,” he said. “I see just one chance,—a very slight one.
Send it to New York; ask them to get it to Wheeling, and then it may get
through by Cumberland and Martinsburg. Stick to ’em, and do what you
can.” a
By this time I had become thoroughly aroused in the business, and I set to

12

é
178 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

work with awill. The despatch with the explanation went to New York, — and
promptly came the reply that it was hopeless; the wires were crowded, and
nothing could be done till late in the afternoon, if then. >

I responded just as Washington had replied to me. It must be done; it is
a case of life and death; do it for Mr. Lincoln’s sake, who is very anxious
about it. And I added for myself, by way of emphasis, “For God’s sake, let’s
save these poor fellows!” .

And I got the New York people thoroughly aroused as I was myself. The
answer came back, ‘‘ Will do what we can.”’

It was now ten minutes past eleven. In ten minutes more I heard from
New York that the despatch had got as far as Buffalo, and could not go direct
to Wheeling; it must go on to Chicago.

Inquiries from Washington were repeated every five minutes, and I sent
what had reached me. .

Half-past eleven the despatch was at Chicago, and they were working their
best to get it to Wheeling.

Something was the matter; the Wheeling office did not answer.

The next five minutes passed without a word; then —huzza !— New York
says the despatch has reached Wheeling, and the operator there says he can
get it through to Harper’s Ferry in time.

At this point the news stopped. New York could learn nothing further for
me, after several efforts, and I could only send to Washington that I hoped it
was all right, but could not be sure.

Later in the day the line was working again to Harper’s Ferry, and then I
learned that the despatch had reached the office there at ten minutes before
twelve, and that it was brought to the place of execution just in time.

Arthur, who had collected magnolia leaves at the tomb of Wash-:
ington for his Home Museum, found oak leaves and acorns at Oak
Ridge for the same purpose. He pressed the leaves, and wrote under
them some of the noblest sentiments of the martyr president.

He found in Springfield an old leather-covered English Reader,
such as had been used in one of the schools that Lincoln attended.
This he read with deep interest, and added it to his numerous treas-
ures. Lincoln once said that the English Reader was the best book
that was ever compiled.

\
CHAPTER XI.
ST. LOUIS, THE CITY OF THE MOUNDS AND PARKS.

sm N old Indian days, when Missouri was a part of Lou-
isiana, the town of St. Louis was known as the coun-
try of the Mounds. Here were the ancient temples
of the red races, and here the council grounds of
the vanishing tribes. After the city became a com-
mercial centre, and historic races had disappeared,
it kept the old traditions of the mysterious past by changing the
council grounds of the Mounds into world-famous parks. In this
beautiful city of the Mississippi, man may live in long summers of
fairy lands. In its park areas it surpasses all other cities in the
United States, with the possible exception of Philadelphia. There is
Benton Park, of the grottoes and lakelets; Carondolet Park, with its
cool drives and fine views; Forest Park, of thirteen hundred and
seventy-one acres, where one may roam through more. than one thou-
sand acres of forest trees, or rest near a Moorish pagoda, and listen to
‘patriotic music of all lands; Lafayette Park, of thirty acres, in the
beautiful part of the city, where the statue of Thomas H. Benton
towers over an inscription of the most prophetic words that ever fell
from his lips; “ There is the east; there is India!” fin reference to
the Pacific territory); Tower Grove Park, of two hundred and seventy-
six acres, a Classic place of lawns and statues, where one may meet
statues of Shakespeare and Columbus and: Baron Von Humboldt:
there are Hyde Park, Lyon Park, O’Fuller Park, Gravois Park, and
the Boulevards and gardens without number. The long stretches of


>

180 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

land that overlook the great river are alla park. The Mounds have
gone, but the prairie flowers still bloom there, and the river rolls below
as calmly and majestically as of old towards the purple Gulf sun-
shine and palms. But the delight of the young people of the roman-
tic city is the Fair
Grounds, where one
finds one’s self in





the animal kingdom
of all lands. We
will speak of it
soon.

St. Louis stands
in the centre of the
Mississippi Valley,
and is the Northern
port city of the
Father of Waters.
It was founded by WY
the French in the GUE:
last days of the
Monarchy. In 1764
Pierre Auguste La- LEARNING THE RIVER.
clede established a
trading-post here, at
a point of the city now known as old Market Square. near the
Cathedral. At this time the great river was the dividing-line between
the French and the English possessions. The site was then a part of
Northern Louisiana. He placed Auguste and Pierre Chouteau in
charge of the post colony. The descendants of the Chouteaus (pro-
nounced Shoe-toe) are among the most influential and patriotic
families of the city.

The post colony named their town St. Louis, in honor of Louis

















\

i





ilk =
AN:
We
ST. LOUIS. 181

XV., the King of France. In 1768 the post was occupied by Spanish
troops, but it reverted to France in 1800. In 1803 the entire territory
of Louisiana was pur-
chased by the United
States, and the Stars
and 5tripes were lifted
ove: the red sod towers
of the fur-traders of St.
Louis. The town at
that time contained
only about a thousand
inhabitants, and con-
sisted largely of one
hundred and eighty
houses, “built of logs
set on end.”

St. Louis now leaped

pe!



pamela



Le

into life, and became a \ 3 |
RO A
the leader of the pioneer SSO W/
LAFAYETTE.

enterprises of the great
Mississippi Valley. John Jacob Astor made here a trading-house,
which gained for him much of his early wealth. The first railways
west of the Mississippi started here; the first schools and newspapers.
Then Thomas H. Benton arose to fame, and lent to the city the lustre
of his prophetic genius. He saw the future of the great empire that
lay beyond the Mississippi, and gave his heart and mind to its develop-
ment. ‘To-day a half-million inhabitants cross and recross the colossal
bridge that spans the great river, and the city turns its easy wealth
into beauty and works of art and beneficence.

The first visit made by our Tourists in the city of the ancient
Mounds was to Lafayette Park. General Lafayette visited St. Louis
on his return to America, and the people here have always held his
182 ZIGZAG YOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

‘memory in filial and affectionate regard. His statue adorns one of
the shaded avenues of the Park, and so the heart of the city will ever
perpetuate his effigy and his name.

The Park is refined and elegant in its outlines, and has an old
French atmosphere about it that harmonizes well with its name.

The central figure of the tasteful avenues here is the statue of
Thomas H. Benton, the great Missouri Senator, and the author of
“ Thirty Years’ View.” The: once famous speeches of this man are
almost forgotten, but long the
_ inspiration of a poetic proph-
ecy will live! Bishop Berke-
ley said, “ Westward the
course of empire takes its
way,” and the line made him
immortal. Benton, in plead-
ing for the occupation of the
great Northwest, said, point-
ing to the Pacific: “ There is
the east; there is India!”
The parts of the Puget Sea
that now are opening to the
ouch: will attest how genuine was the inspiration of that utterance.
“ A little well written is immortality,” said the poet Halleck. A little
well spoken has the same crown; an ounce of a diamond is worth a
ton of glass; the greatest truths of life find expression in a few choice
words.

The statue is majestic, and its seriousness contrasts with the light-
ness and gayety of the surrounding scenes, — with the airy trees, the
music pagodas, the smiling hedges and bright flowers. The face has
the prophet’s mood. It is worth a journey across the continent to sit



A LIGHT-KEEPER.

down in its presence, and here to dream of ultimate America, as he
saw it, and as we may more clearly see it to-day. In Benton’s day
ST. LOUIS. 183

people went from the Mississippi to the Pacific by the Oregon Trail.
To-day the empire between the Mississippi and the Pacific is becom-:
ing the greater United States, where the seat of political power is to
be. The grand march began while yet Benton waved his hand.

The Fair Grounds of St. Louis are among the wonders of America.
Here is an amphitheatre capable of sheltering a hundred thousand
people. A thousand trotters have been found here at a single Fair,
and the Annual Fair is the occasion of the State’s gala-days.

The air is cool with sifted sunshine, and blazes with flowers. The
increasing products of the stall are brought here year after year. But

_to young Missouri the exhibits and races are minor attractions. The
little feet as they turn the turnstile hurry towards the Zoo.

The Zoo of St. Louis? One loves to remember it. We never
have seen such respectable-looking bears-in any other pits, — great, fat,
emiable-looking creatures! We cannot think that they would harm
any one if they were let loose. They seem so glad to see company,
too. Arthur went there once on a rainy day, when they seemed lone-
some, and one of them danced and rolled over and over with delight as
he greeted them. The animals here are mercifully kept and treated.
They are not cramped for room. They all seem friendly, — the ele-
phant, the sealions, and all. In fact, everything appears to be happy
here, — the birds in the trees, the monkeys in the cages, the great com-
panies of children, and even the flowers. The beautifully-shaded
grounds seem to be endiess. One is sorry as the afternoon hours
grow short, and the post-Mississippi sun blazes behind the trees, to
turn again the turnstile, and to face the’ city. St. Louis is rich, but
she believes that life was given for something better than money-
making. She is a healthy city, which is natural, as she does so
much to keep her people in the open air. We do not wonder that
her citizens love her, and are proud of her, and guard her fame with
jealous care. . .

If the young St. Louisan may go to the animal world at one suburb,
184 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

he may find the trees and plants of Bible lands at another. The Shaw
Gardens are famous everywhere, and they are as free as the air of the
prairie. They were given to the city by Mr. Henry Shaw, a retired
millionaire, who spent some thirty years of his life in their develop-
ment. They are the Kew Gardens, the Jardin des Plantes, of America.
Almost every species of trees and plants may be found here in natural
groups and associations. Here we may find the olive-tree, the cam-
phor-tree, and almond and the cinchona; here the rose of Sharon
and the lily of the valley. The glory of the city is the river, and the
bridge that crowns the river. One should see the bridge from the
river at night. In autumn evenings the streets are frequently illumi-
nated with many- .
colored lights,

but the bridge is

an arch of splen- |
“dor on évery,—





night of the year.
Next to the
Brooklyn Bridge,
itis the most stu-
pendous structure of its kind in the country. It is an event in one’s
history to cross it, and one leaves it for the last time with regretful
looks, and yet with gratitude for the lesson that they had learned
here, and that every one learns here, that a true and liberal public
spirit may make a city doubly dear to the hearts and homes of its
inhabitants.

The Union Depot of St. Louis, like that of other great Western
cities, presents a strange spectacle on the departure of trains. The
tracks and car-yards are of themselves a little city. In the great
waiting-rooms are to be seen families from all parts of the civilized
world: emigrants from all the countries of Europe; Chinese, Negroes ;
elegant tourists on their way to Mexico;-invalids going to the Hot









A TOW.
,
ST. LOUIS. 185

Springs of Arkansas; poor women with great families of childten;
men with tickets for Texas; newsboys, — wealth, poverty, gay spirits
and misery; happy faces, anxious faces, disappointed faces; oh, what
a dissolving view of humanity it is, and how much of it is pitiable!
One’s heart aches at the sight of the emigrant mothers and children,
and wishes that some of the easy flow of wealth and luxury in the
palace cars could make them happy for a single hour in their anxiety
and necessity. One is shocked at the indifference with which the gay
world passes them by. These women have come here, not for them-
selves, but for their children; and these children are to be the future
electors of presidents. We often look upon these mothers as heroines,
and these children as national trusts.

“You are having a hard time with your children,” said a veiled
lady to one of these mothers in the waiting-room. “I pity you:
here is a dollar for you. You have greater cause to pity me: I
have lost mine.”

She gave the distressed woman a look of sisterly sympathy, and
followed her coachman, and vanished into the night. We hope that
her sleep was sweet, and that there is a better world than this for such
as she.


CHAPTER XII.

STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI.



FHE Mississippi! Father of Waters! The Indians
} called it the Great River, and, including the Mis-
souri, it is the longest river in the world.

It rises among the clear lakes of Minnesota, near
the sources of the long Red River of the North.
With the Canal that connects the Lakes with its
waters, it makes an island of half the United States.

It is 2986 miles long, or to the source of the Missouri 4500 miles.
It drains an area of 1,226,600 square miles, an empire that once
teemed with a crowded population of high intelligence, that long ago
vanished, and that now is being repeopled from all civilized lands, —
an empire where France came and went, having her romantic seat
at Kaskaskia, and its vice-royal city at New Orleans.

A boat may ride on the river 2200 miles, or with the Missouri



3000 or more miles.
The river and its branches form the ‘boundaries of one fourth of

the States. Its waters, like the heart and its arteries, touches all the
central life of the States. The Mississippi Valley is the heart of the
great Republic. :

Its banks is a procession. of cities: St. Paul, Galena, Keokuk,
Quincy, St. Louis, Memphis, Vicksburg, Natchez, and New Orleans.
By canal it touches Chicago and the Lakes, Canada and the East.
Its heart-beat is the pulse of America.






































































































































































































































































MSM

TENE



A VIEW IN MINNESOTA, NEAR THE SOURCE OF THE MISSISSIPPI,


STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. . "189

John Law dreamed of it in 1717, and formed the Mississippi
Scheme that bankrupted his countrymen. Though the great valley.
did not prove an Eldorado, it has more than fulfilled the largest
visions of the imaginative speculator.

The class had planned to go from St. Louis to New Orleans by
water, and thence to Tampa, Florida, by rail, and to Havana, by one
of the Plant Line ae See
of steamers.

It was aclear,

bright early au-
tumn day as the
boat which they
first took glided
away from the
stupendous
bridge that spans
the Mississippi
at St. Louis. The bridge looked like an arch in the Z
heavens as it disappeared. In warm, serene weather | © Sis
boat-travel on the Mississippi is a delight. He misses his ~ =
journey who makes a pleasure tour to New Orleans from St. Louis
by rail.
Plantations, towns, cities, ‘battlefields, companies of happy negroes
everywhere; fields white with cotton, planters’ houses, log-cabins, and
cool trees. One has leisure for story-telling as the boat glides along,
and Mrs. Green was called upon to be the entertainer on the sunny
decks.

The lower deck seemed swarming with colored people, light-hearted
and happy; and Mrs. Green, with a heart full of benevolence, thought
that she saw in that little province of Africa a calling to do missionary
-work. So, on one sunny, lazy afternoon, she went down to these
populous quarters, and sat down to question some of the boys as to















VIEW ON THE RIVER.





190. — ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

their religious knowledge and spiritual progress. Arthur went with
her, and listened with the deepest interest to the results of her efforts.

“Can you sing?” began Mrs. Green, putting her question to a
bright-eyed colored boy.

“Yes, missus; I can sing all night at the
camp-meetin’.”

This was encouraging.

“Can you sing, missus?”

S “Ves, some; but not as well as I used to
* do.”

“Hymns?”

ess

“Tsing hymns.”

“ Suppose you sing one.”

“Td hate to sing before a white lady from
up Nof.” :

“Qh, it is not so much ow you sing as
what you sing that will please me!”

“ Well,— Ill tell you what ’tis; you sing,
and I'll sing, and we ll see which will hold out
the longest.”

Mrs. Green was persuaded to begin the
musical contest, in order to hear the boy’s
plantation songs.



A TYPICAL OLD-TIMER. She selected a popular and very appro-
priate old hymn: —
“¢ My brother, I wish you well;
My brother, I wish you well;

When my Lord calls, I hope we all
Will meet in the Promised Land.”

As soon as she had concluded this simple and fraternal stanza, the
boy clasped both hands about his knees, and began to rock to and fro.
.

STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. -IQI

His eyes sparkled with the light of one who sees victory afar, and he
began : —
“Tl be there,
I’ll be there,
When the general roll is calling,
I'll be there;
I’ll be there,
I’ll be there,
When the general roll is calling,
Vl) be there.
I hope to meet my brother there,
When the general roll is calling;
He used to join with me in prayer.

Now you sing,” said the boy.
Mrs. Green continued : —

“My sister, I wish you well;
My sister, I wish you well;
When my Lord calls, I hope we all
Will meet in the Promised Land.”

The boy followed, —
: “ TI] be there,
I'll be there,” ete.
“T hope to meet my sister there.
: = ”
Now you sing again.
Mrs. Green continued : —

“ My pastor, I wish you well;
My pastor, I wish you well,” etc

The boy grinned, rocked to and fro, and continued : —

“ T°ll be there,.
I’ll be there ;
I hope to meet my Zaséor there,” etc.

“ Now you go on,” said he.

Mrs. Green began to see the strange situation in which she was
placed. She continued : —

“ Poor sinner, I wish you well;
Poor sinner, I wish you well.
When my Lord calls, I hope we ali
Will meet in the Promised Land.”
1g2 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The boy’s eyes glowed : —
«© [’ll be there,
I ‘ll be there,”
and here he rolled over, singing, —

“T hope to meet poor sznners there.

he, he, he! Now go on, missus.”

Arthur was laughing, and people were gathering around the two
singers. and filling the deck.

“Who shall I sing about next ?” she asked.

“Oh, the capt’n and mate, and the names of all the boys. My
name is Peter, mine is. They call me Pete. Sing, ‘Peter I wish







A MISSISSIPPI LUMBER-RAFT.

you well;’ then get at the names of all the boys, and wish them well.
Then put in all the names of all the people you ever knew, and wish
them well. Then go back to Bible times. You can sing all night
in that way. I have a song that is everlasting, —as long as one has
breth. Want to hear it?”

Poor Mrs. Green! Here were unexpected events. While in a
state of perplexity as to what to say and how to retire, she was held
to her seat by hearing the young Wagner begin a most haunting
melody in which all the colored people reverently joined : —
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 193

“ The heaven-bells are ringing,
The heaven-bells are ringing,
About Jerusalem.
Oh, do you love God, my brother?
Oh, do you love God, my brother ?
My soul is *bout to shine.”

This song went on and on. In the second stanza it was “ my
sister ;” in the third “my father ;” in the fourth, “ my mother;” in the
fifth, “my elder;” and then the refrain took up, in successive stanzas,
the names of the singers and their friends.

It ceased only when the boat touched at landing.

When the boat moved off again, the boy said, “ Missus, tell us
about the captains of the Nof,— them who made us free. Did you
know Lincoln, or John Brown, or Garretson.”

“JT knew Sumner,” said Mrs. Green.

“Goody, missus, did you? Well, tell us ’bout him.”

“ T well recall the day that he was buried,” said Mrs. Green.

“ Buried ? tell us about that.”

Death and burial are the most interesting events in life to the
mind of the negro. The colored people gathered around Mrs. Green
in intense interest. The passengers also took seats near her, and
among them were a number of people of political reputation and
large intelligence.

On board the boat was a party of Mexicans who had been to St.
Louis in the interest of gold-mines in the Sierra Madre Mountains.
Arthur soon made the acquaintance of these men, and learned Spanish
rapidly by keeping near them. One of them spoke English fluently,
and related to him many stories. He described the customs of
Mexican life to him, the old cities, and the patriots of the struggles
of the Republic.

One of his stories, in a descriptive narrative, greatly interested, not
only Arthur, but the class.

=
194 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

A STATESMAN’S BURIAL.

IT was a mild afternoon. The blue sky was barred and flecked with light.
clouds. There was a solemn stillness in the air that seemed in harmony with
the universal sorrow of the hour. Everywhere people were threading the
avenues of Mount Auburn, Cambridge, converging around the tower and the
highest land elevation, at whose foot the grave had been made.

The terraced side of the hill overlooking the grave gradually filled with.
people, to the number of many thousands. They stood in reverent silence,
awaiting the last sad scene. ,

Half-mast flags were seen on every hand above the hill-tops, and the tolling
of bells was heard in all of the surrounding towns, the measured tones of —
sorrow seeming to retreat into the cloudy distances until almost imperceptible
to the ear.

The grave was a simple brick vault in the earth, in an open lot on the slope
of the hill from which the cemetery derives its fame. Above it a solitary oak
stretches a single strong arm. Near are the graves of Countess Ossoli, Agassiz,
Septimus Felton, Burlingame, and other names distinguished in statemanship,.
literature, and art.

We could but associate the gnarled oak, that was to shade the remains in
sunshine and shelter them in storm, with the solitary grandeur of the character
of the departed statesman. “A great man under the shadow of defeat,” said
Mr. Sumner to a friend, on the last social evening he ever spent, ‘‘is taught
how precious are the uses of adversity; and as an oak-tree's roots are strength-
ened by its shadow, so all defeats in a good cause are but resting-places on the
road to victory at last.” He, indeed, had grown strong in defeat like the oak.
in its own shadow, and the resting-place of victory awaited him at last.

At nearly sunset the bells of Cambridge announced to the waiting multi-
tudes that the procession was approaching, passing the old historic college,
— his alma mater, the scene of his conscientious and studious youth.

On the side of the hill, just above the place where we were waiting, stood an
old colored woman, holding by the hand a bright-eyed little girl. Her face
was thin and deeply wrinkled, but calm, patient, and trustful. The child’s face
seemed to indicate more of Caucasian beauty than of African blood. As I
caught sight of the woman’s sad countenance at every casual turning of the
head, I felt almost constrained to ask her what sorrowful history had left its
traces there. Had she been a slave? Had her children been forced away
from her? Had she known the bitterest experience a mother can know in
some hut by the savannas, amid the cotton-fields or the rice-swamps?
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 195

Presently a carriage was driven to the side of the grave. One might see
through the glass front that it was loaded with flowers, A young lady, a
daughter of Dr. S. G. Howe, who was to stand by the grave, as the represen-
tative of Mr. Sumner’s sister in California, alighted, and a wreath and cross
of delicate exotics were laid on her arm. The old negro woman drew the child
closer toward her with a trembling hand, and said, “ Milly, those flowers are
for him.”

Then came men bringing a cross of ivy and violets on a standard of pen-
dant ferns, and set it in the centre of the lot, near the grave. I could hear a
faint whisper amid the silence, “Those flowers are for Aim.”

As the sun was setting, its glory shrouded in broken masses of clouds, a
company of officers mounted on black horses swept slowly round the hill.
Hearts. beat faster; but no one of the expectant assembly seemed to move.
The hearse, with its guard mounted on white horses, followed. Behind it came
the long line of coaches, in which were some of the most illustrious men of the
nation. The procession stopped, the musicians and singers took their places,
and the low, sweet tones of Integer Vite, in tremulous measures, rose upon the
air. It was an ode of Horace that Mr. Sumner had loved.

As the coffin, buried in flowers and floral emblems, was removed from the
hearse, the old slave woman’s hand pointed tremblingly to it; and as it passed
into the grave she tearfully said, “ Milly, had it not been for him, you might
have been a little slave.”

The shades of night were fast gathering as the coffin was lowered, while
Dr. Sunderland repeated the Lord's Prayer. Crosses and wreaths of rarést
flowers were thrown upon it, and among them one floral tribute of surpassing
beauty, on which was the motto, “Do not let my Civil Rights Bill fail.’ An
‘immense cross of lilies was placed at the head of the grave, rising like a white
monument above the uncovered heads in the shadows.

It was an impressive scene. Vice-President Wilson bent over the grave,
his patriarchal form and white head conspicuous among the mourners. The
divided statesmen had sat side by side in the Senate and fought the battle for
freedom together for nearly a quarter of a century. Emerson was there, to
whom the dying Senator sent his last messsage oflove. Statesmen, scholars, poets,
and philanthropists were there, in all of whose bosoms was a common sentiment. |

A hymn was sung, — Luther’s majestic choral, “A mighty fortress is our
God.” The last impressive words of the hymn seemed indeed to emphasize
the lesson of the statesman’s life: —

“The word above all earthly powers —
No thanks to them—abideth. .
196 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The spirit and the gifts are ours
Through Him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
This mortal life also ;
The body they may kill, —
God’s truth abideth still,

His kingdom is forever.”

It was dark and ended. The procession and the mourning throng gone.
The cross of lilies guarded the grave like a ghost, and the solitary oak —
stretches its arm above the statesman’s eternal slumber. He little thought
when battling for the right, amid the reproach of friends and the bitterest
opposition of enemies, that his life would have an ending like this. He little
dreamed that his grave would be made fragrant by the freshest flowers of
Southern soil, and that the tolling of bells in Southern Charleston as well as
in his own New England would attest the universality of the nation’s grief.
In this view, few events of the present time have taught the whole nation
a sublimer moral lesson.

The colored people were both pleased that Mrs. Green should have
told this story to them in the old New England way, and with the
incidental story of Milly.

“She talked to us as though we knew something,” said one of
them.

“T know all about Milly,” said another ; “but who was Emerson
and those other people?”

A STRANGE TALE.— MONTEREY.

THE city of Monterey, in the State of Nuevo Leon, Mexico, is very beauti-
ful in situation. The mountains lift their heads in fantastic forms around it;
the San Juan, a tributary of the Rio Grande, flows by it. Its suburbs are full
of walled gardens and orange orchards.

The city is white, and stands upon a plain some sixteen hundred feet shee
the sea-level. As seen from a near hill on which is the ruined Bishop’s Palace,
and one of the scenes of the Battle of Monterey, it recalls the old cities of the
Orient. It is a growing city, of less than twenty thousand inhabitants; it is
becoming Americanized, as are all the Mexican cities near the American border.
The battle of Monterey was fought’on the 24th of September, 1846. The scars



























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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THE “BATON ROUGE.”
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. . 199

of the battle may yet be seen in the hill region crowned by the Bishop’s Palace,
which is a picturesque ruin that the traveller sees wherever he may be on
the plain. ,

It is a patriotic city. It is related that when Juarez came to Monterey and
slew the spirit of the people, he said, ‘“ Dismiss the Guard, — I am protected by
loyal hearts,” or words with this meaning.

Monterey is rich in historic tales and legendary lore. One of the stories
well known here is worthy of art or the drama. It relates to two brothers
from over the border. |

These two young men were greatly attached to each other, were patriotic
after their own view of patriotism, brave, and chivalrous. One of them was
‘married, and the other single.

They became involved in a movement for the independence of Northern
Mexico, and joined a company of revolutionary volunteers. The insurgents
were pursued by the Mexican national troops, and defeated near Ensalada.
They were taken prisoners and condemned to death.

The Mexican commanding officer after a little time changed the sentence
against the captives, and ordered that one in five should die, and that the men.
to be executed should be drawn by lot.

The method of lot-drawing on this occasion was dramatic and strange.
There were to be put into a dark sack as many beans, or /rijo/es, as there were
prisoners. The condemned men, probably blindfolded, were to draw each a
Jryol from the sack. But one out of five of the beans was black, and the
men who should draw these black beans were to suffer the death penalty.

It must have been an awful moment to the man who had drawn a black
Jrijol when his bandage fell from his eyes, and he opened his hand and saw in
it his fate.

The two brothers were blindfolded, and drew frijoles from the dark sack.
The single man drew a white bean, and was filled with joy at his escape from
‘death; but his brother drew a black frzjol, and his joy vanished at the
terrible disclosure.

His love for his brother was flamed by the misfortune. “I have no wife,”
he thought; “he has. I have less to live for than he.” He clasped his
brother’s hand, and exchanged the fraoles. He showed the officer the black
bean that he had taken from his brother, and asked to die in his stead.

He was shot. After he fell, his body was left on the ground. In the night
he recovered consciousness, for the wound was not mortal. He rose up, and
attempted to escape and hide in the mountains; but was captured, and again
shot, dying the death of a hero, having loved his brother more than himself.
200 ZIGZAG FJOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The Mexican travellers had with them their wives and servants.
The ladies made the acquaintance of the class.

Here the class first tried the experiment of making use of their
newly-acquired Spanish. Mr. Green the teacher and Mr. Diaz, who
had travelled in Spanish countries, found no difficulty in being under-
stood; but the young ladies’ efforts to understand the replies of the
Mexicans afforded much amusement to Arthur, who was constantly on
the lookout for their mistakes and confusion.

“A qué hora comemos hoy?” asked Miss Green of a bright-
looking Mexican servant-girl.

“No comerémos Antes de las cinco, Sefiorita.”

Miss Green stood silent.

“Why do you not say, What?” asked Arthur, in a low voice.

“ Be still, brother. Iam going to try again.

“Say Hoy?” said Arthur, as the servant began to look inquisitive
about the mouth.

“Say, ‘ Perdone usted — Mil gracias — no comprendo?’”

Miss Green and the servant remained silent, — the one thinking of
what she should say next, and the other waiting for the question.

“I know what she said,” said Arthur.

“You?”

“Yes: she said that we would not dine until five o’clock.”

“ Let me try again,” said Miss Green.

“ Qué hora es?” .

The servant understood the question, and answered simply : —

“Son las tres y diez minutos, Senorita.”

Miss Green stood in an attitude of profound meditation.

“Now you know, sister,” said Arthur. “Say Gracdas, or the girl
will not think you have any manners.”

“ Gracias.”

The girl smiled in a bewildered way.

“No es tarde,” said Arthur.
STOR ¥-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 201

The servant understood, and said pleasantly, “No, Sefior;” but
Miss Green was still in meditation.

“ What time did she say it was?” she asked at last.

“It is three and ten minutes.”

“I knew that she said ¢#vee; but the ten minutes puzzled me. Why
did she not say, It is ten minutes past three?”

‘Mr. Diaz came upon the odd scene, laughing, and Miss Green
joined in the amusement caused at her discomfiture.

“ They say that one may make any answer in Spanish countries, but
Manana, That word has proved the ruin of all Spanish nations.”

“ Manana?” asked Miss Green, “did we have that word in our
lesson ?.”

Miss Gray joined the company.

“ They say that we may say anything in Spanish countries, but
— "said Miss Green to her friend. “ But —what was that word?”

“ Bananas,” said Arthur. .

“ Manana,” said Mr. Diaz.

“It has proved the ruin of all Spanish nations,” said Miss Green.
“What has been the ruin of all Spanish nations?” asked Miss
Gray.

“ Manana,” said Miss Green.

“It sounds well, but it must be something dreadful,” said Miss
Gray. ‘“ What does it mean?”

“Pardon me, but you will know before you have been many days
in Mexico. When you ask a favor of a Mexican, implying work, he
will answer M/anana. He learned the word from the Spaniards.
Manana is a day that never arrives.”

“ How strange | !” said Miss Green.

“What is that day that never arrives in Spanish?” asked Miss
Gray.

“ Manana,” said Mr. Diaz.

“Is that Monday?”
202 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ No.”

“ The day after?”

a VES.

“ Tuesday ?”

“ No, — the day after.”
“ Wednesday ? ”

“ No, —the day after.”
“ Thursday?”

SINGS

“ Friday?”

“No,”

« Saturday?”

“ No.”

“ Sunday?”

“No

“ But I have named all the days of the week.”

“But the Spanish people have eight days in the week: Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and
Mainana (to-morrow, or in the morning); that day never comes.”

‘












CHAPTER XIII.
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI (continued). -

F such charming hours as were spent on
the lazy Mississippi steamer, the class had
never dreamed. Mrs. Green was a lover
of the poems of Edna Dean Proctor,
which she regarded as possessing the
true national spirit. “ Mrs. Hemans
caught the inspiration of English life,”
she said; “Miss Proctor is the Mrs.
Hemans of America, and the true
American poet of the national life.”
Here on the river of Marquette, De
Soto, and La Salle, she introduced to
the young people Miss Proctor’s poems that relate to the War, to
Illinois: and the Mississippi.

The class continued their readings on the steamer, as though they
were at home. At one of these deck readings, Mr. Green recited
Miss Proctor’s grand poem “On the Mississippi;” and the young
ladies of the class, Mrs. Hemans’s “Inez de Castro,” the “King of
Aragon’s Lament for his Brother,” and other Spanish tales in
heroic verse. Mr. Green, the teacher, arranged a reading of the
famous war poem, “On the Shores of Tennessee,” in such a way as
to have the music of the “Star-Spangled Banner” played softly
as in the distance, by a simple boat-band, at the dramatic incident
of the narrative. The Mexican party told pleasant stories of their

1


204 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

own land; the colored people were induced to sing, and one of them
to play on the banjo. Every one seemed happy; the days.and nights
were bright, and the boat drifted slowly on and on,— passed places
famous in the history of the War when the Mississippi was a “cap-
tive river,” and left behind white cotton-fields, airy cabins, and cool
trees.

























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































SHIPPING ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

4

Four hundred and twenty miles below St. Louis the boat came to
Memphis, on the east side of the river. The city crowns a bluff some
sixty feet above the highest tides. It is a city of sunshine and cotton,
of half‘a hundred churches, and one hundred schools. In 1862 it was.
occupied by the Federal forces, who made it the base of the expedition
that captured Vicksburg, July 4, 1863.
STORY-~TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 205

The river between Memphis and Vicksburg is a long pathway of
the sun through the sunlands, —a historic highway on which the flags
of Spain, France, and England floated in their day, and where the
Confederate flag rose and disappeared. In few places or water-ways
does the stars and stripes mean more than here.



































VIEW OF THE RIVER NEAR VICKSBURG.

There was an old army surgeon on board, who related incidents of
the battle-fields. One of these little stories was particularly touching,
and we give it here.

ANNIE’S HAND.

Ir was after the battle. The full moon was rising above the horizon,
shadowy and lustreless in the smoky sky. The boom of the cannon was
occasionally heard in the distance, covering the retreat of the enemy; but the

battle-field itself was still, very still.
206 ZIGZAG ‘YOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

I wandered over the field doing a chaplain’s duty, and searching for two
missing boys of the regiment. One of these, whom we all loved, was named
Charlie.

I found him at last. He was wounded. As the light of the lantern fell-on
the young face, I saw that he was suffering, and that the end was near.

He gave me an earnest, inquiring look, and the expression of his face
changed to almost hopelessness when he saw that I was troubled and anxious.
He grasped my hand, and gently pulled me toward him.

I knelt beside him and said, ‘‘ My dear boy, what can I do for you? uh

“T fear nothing, chaplain.”

“ Shall I talk to you of God?”

“Oh, yes! Iam used to that. J have loved him for two years, but not as
much as I ought. I think I am going to him.”

“ Have you a mother?”

“Oh, yes!” Tears filled his eyes.

“Tt must have been hard for her to have given a boy like you to your
country.” :

“Ves, it was. When I first began to talk about enlisting, she would not
hear me; but we prayed over it together, and at last she consented, saying it
was her duty.”

I fanned his face, wetting his lips from my canteen, and in a little while he
fell asleep. I remained by his side until he woke, occasionally brushing the
hair from his forehead, when he said, —

“Oh, I dreamed that it was Annie’s hand. Won’ t you put it on my head
again?”

“Who is Annie? ”

“She is my twin sister. We were seventeen since I left home.”

The light river-winds played among his hair; the moon brightened, and all
was still. He turned his cheek on my arm, as though there was a yearning
within for sympathy. He then seemed to sleep again. I prayed over him a
few minutes in silence.

“ Charlie?” , ;

There was no answer. I put my hand on his heart; it was still.

One of the Mexican party, who could speak English well, related
an amusing story of some tourists who visited their country for the
sake of drinking pulque, for some kidney disease with which they
were troubled. This semi-invalid party were very much surprised to
;

p















































































































































































wy
°

A RELIC OF THE WAR.

STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 209

find out the character of the milk-cart that brought the milk of the
maquey plant to market.

THE PULQUE DRINKERS.

THE valley of the City of Mexico, in the State of Mexico, is one of the most
beautiful in the world, and historically one of the most romantic and interesting.
It is overlooked by two dead volcanoes, glistening with eternal snow, one of
which is the renowned Popocatapetl. It is the valley of the Toltecs, of the
ruined temples of vanished gods, of the Montezumas, of Galvez and the con-
quistadors and the dons, of Hidalgos, of Juarez,! and the Republic. It is white
with sunshine, full of crumbling churches, and sweet chiming bells, — of odorous
flowers, and a hundred varieties of roses. Here the clarina of clarine sings as
sweetly and flutes as purely as in the days of the Toltecs, Aztecs, and Monte-
zumas. Its climate is an eternal spring.

Our tourists took rooms in the old palace-hotel of Itrabede, which is on
San Francisco Street. The hotel was a palace of Itrabede,? who overthrew the

_ Spanish rule and established the Mexican monarchy. The house is everywhere
covered with the initialI. It has a lovely gatzo, or, open court, and one here
seems to live in the romances and tragedies of generations gone. English is
spoken in the several hotels of this immense building, among which is the
elegant Don Calos and the Americano.

The first visit that our tourists made was to the solemn old churchyard of
Don Fernando, in which some of the greatest heroes of Mexican liberty rest, to
see the wonderful tomb of Juarez, — one of the most expressive and sympathetic
works of art in the world. They crossed the green alameda, where the Mexi-
can band was discoursing delicious music, and soon came to the grated iron
gate of the cemetery. It was locked. Presently a little old woman with a
bunch of keys appeared.

“ Juarez,” said a little chorus of voices.

It was enough. The little old woman opened the gate with the grace of a
countess, and led the way through the beautiful gardens of the dead. There
were tombs everywhere. The pure sunshine sifted through the shadows of the
evergreen trees; the sweet clarinas sang in the near fatzos, and an air of

enchantment seemed to breathe in all the place. /
The little old woman pointed to the tomb, which is a shrine of patriotic
Mexicans. How beautiful it was!—an airy pyramid or portico, hung with

1 War-res. ; 2 It-ra-be’-de..
; 14.
210 - ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

chaplets of flowers, some of which, they were told, cost little fortunes, but which
were now withered. ;

Juarez was the father and defender of Mexican liberty, and his tomb is
buried in flowers sent to it from all the golden and flowery provinces. The
traveller can hardly see the tomb for the chaplets.

The tomb was opened by the withered old woman with the keys. With
the exception of the Faith Monument at Plymouth, we know of no sculptures
in America that are so poetic. The marble effigy represents the dead Presi-
dent as lying in the lap of Liberty, or of the Nation, as the Mexicans say.
The face is said to be perfect. The mourning statue of Liberty, or the Nation,
is a powerful conception of art. The tomb of Juarez stands for freedom in the
eyes of the Mexicans. The churchyard is one of the loveliest places in the
world.

Their next visit was to the palace-castle of Chapultepec, the ancient gar-
dens of the Montezumas, and residence of the romantic viceroy Galvez, and
the scene of one of the most important battles of the American-Mexican
War.

The party wished to walk to the castle, as the distance is only some three
miles from the hotel, and the climate was a delight. Passing the bright adz-
meda, they came to the long avenue of statues that leads to the palace, which
is shaded by eucalyptus-trees. The statue of Columbus first meets the eye;
then the colossal statues of the Montezumas, and after them a ie line of
Mexican heroes.

The palace rises over the city, and Popocatapetl lifts itself afar in the eternal
azure over the palace, glistening with snow. The gardens of the palace, once
the baths of the Montezumas, are full of caged animals, birds and flowers, and
are shaded with ancient trees, which are bearded with mosses. The castle is
the summer home of the presidents of Mexico, who ride on prancing horses
through the avenues between the city palace and the ancient gardens. The
gardens of Chapultepec are beautiful beyond any possible conception, over-
looked as they are by the Sierra Madre mountains, the snowy volcanoes, and
overlooking as they do the valley and the City of Mexico... The air is a
serenity of sunshine. Fruit-dealers and flower-dealers are everywhere met;
donkeys with light burdens larger than their own little bodies; and sellers of
pulque (pronounced polky), or the juice, or milk, of the maquey (pronounced
majay) plant.

Pulque is the national drink of the poor people of Mexico. It looks like
milk, and tastes like sour milk. It is slightly intoxicating, if used in large
quantities; and in the cases of those who form the pulque habit, it makes one
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 211
\

dull and lazy. It has been much used by Americans of late as a remedy for
kidney diseases, and especially for Bright’s disease. The same moral objection
is being made against its habitual use as against light wines and common beer.
Few Americans would be likely to form the pulque habit. The juice or milk
has much the same effect on the system as buttermilk, which is a remedy for
the same diseases.

The whole valley seems covered with the royal-looking maquey plant, from
which pulque is milked or drawn. It is a plant of slow growth, and when ready
to be tapped is worth some ten esos, or dollars.

The peon, or poor Mexican, cuts out the main stem of the plant when it is
old enough to be tapped, and drinks the juice through a long tube, much as
boys in the States suck cider through a straw. After drinking, he puts back the
stalk into the well.

At Chapultepec our tourist saw droves of little donkeys with what seemed
to be dead pigs on their backs. They had up to this time enjoyed the drinking
of pulque, and had imagined that they derived great benefit from its use.

“What are these queer little donkeys carrying?” asked one of the happy
invalids of a guide.

“ The juice of the maquey.”

“ The century plant?”

“ Si, Sefior.”

“Do those who drink the juice of the century plant live a hundred
years?”

“Si, Sefior, except when they die sooner.”

“ But these look like donkeys loaded with pigs.”

“They put the juice in pig-skins.” |

“They do? What do they call the juice?”

“Milk?”

“Milk? What kind of milk. What kind of milk, in the name of
decency?”

“Why, Sefior, you know, — pulque, just pulque.”

Our invalids all recovered then and there. Each declared himself cured,
and was sure he would need no more medicine. And yet they eat sausages in
the United States.

The city of Vicksburg, like Memphis, is a habitation of the bluffs.
It is four hundred or more miles north of New Orleans, — a cotton
city; a place of churches, politics, and an easy life. In January, 1862,
212 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI. =
1 ,

it was attacked by the naval forces from Memphis and New Orleans,
but maintained its defences. It was besieged in 1863 by General Grant,
and surrendered thirty thousand prisoners of war and two hundred
cannon.

Arthur spent the few hours which the class passed at Vicksburg
in securing war-relics. He not only obtained shot and pieces of shell,
but one officer’s sword, and a Confederate uniform and flag, and a fife.
on which “ Dixy” had been played during the siege. A very agree-
able hotel clerk helped him in this search for the things for his home
museum.

Mrs. Green enlivened the long way between Vicksburg and New
Orleans with pleasant society stories.

“Do many of the women of the North lecture?” asked a Southern
woman of Mrs. Green one day on the sunny deck. I would not like
to take part in any public meeting?”

“Nor J,” answered Mrs. Green. “I am sure my husband would
not approve of any attempt on my part to lecture.”
“No,” said Mr. Green, meekly. ‘“ There was a lady in our town

who attempted to lecture, and who read her diary of her efforts to
Mrs. Green. She was not altogether successful. My wife made quite
a story of it, which she used to recite in the form of a journal. Wife,
tell us the story of Mrs. Freemantle’s Lecture on Blunders, in the
queer old way.” .

Mrs. Green pretended to open a diary, and to read in a most
serious way :—

MRS. FREEMANTLE’S LECTURE ON BLUNDERS.

September 1. — Fall 1st has come. The evenings are lengthening, and
shorter and shorter are the golden bridges of the days. It will be’an eventful
fall to me, and I have resolved to keep a journal. I am to lecture this fall
for the first time. I have often spoken in missionary meetings and at women’s

1 From Harper’s Bazar.












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































IN THE COTTON-FIELD,
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 215

clubs, and have taken a part in various benevolent conventions; but I have
never entered the field as a public-lecturer until now.

That is a delightful hour when a woman learns that she has the power to
talk on her feet before an assembly. I was so delighted myself when the
consciousness of this power first came to me that I did not know how to stop.
I told my husband of this strange experience; but he only looked up from his
paper, and said, —

“ That is nothing remarkable; no woman ever knows when to stop.”

“But, my dear,” said I, ‘my case was a very peculiar one. After I had
seemed to have finished, another thought would come to me, and I would utter
the word ‘and’ before I could restrain it.”

“Just like a lot of women at an open door,” said he. “’Tis ‘and,’ ‘and;’
and that word ‘and’ has led to more colds, pneumonias, and consumptions
than any other word in the dictionary.”

“But don’t you think it shows a very prolific imagination?” said I. “You
see that I seemed to see things in my mind as in an open vision, and —”

He seized his hat, and went to the club.

I have chosen for the subject of my first popular lecture, “ Blunders and
Blunderers.” I am to open the lecture-course at Tompkin’s Ferry. I have
chosen the subject of “ Blunders and Blunderers,” because I really have nothing
in particular to say to the public, — no distinct inspiration, no special cause
for going upon the platform. But on general principles, a woman who can
talk should talk. The faculty itself is a proof of her calling. And there are
some people who just love to talk. Ido. If I didn't talk, I should n't say
anything; and if I didn’t say anything, my individuality would be lost.
“Blunders” is a popular subject, and enables me to relate many amusing
anecdotes of eminent people; for it is the inventive and occupied mind that
blunders. I show that blunders are an indication of genius; that it is the
eventful mind that neglects uneventful things. I read the lecture as an essay
before the Woman’s Club, and it was received with great favor. “Brilliant,
witty, and instructive,” said the “ Pioneer Press,” “and well worthy of the
lecture platform.”

“Well worthy of the lecture platform,” — that decided me, I thought to
myself; but husband does not see my gifts as other people do.

“My dear,” said I to him, when he had laid aside his paper one evening,
“TI have decided to lecture.”

He started as though the ghost of one of his departed creditors had passed
the windows.

“Lecture?” said he. “Lecture? Do I hear my own ears? What are
you going to lecture upon?”
216 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“* Blunders and Blunderers,’ — that essay that I read before the club.”

“Do I hear my ears?” said he, again. “Mariana Freemantle, you are not
going about rehearsing those old jokes about Dr. ‘Johnson and Oliver Gold-
smith, and Newton’s seeing the bones of a chicken on the dinner-table, and
forgetting whether it was he that had eaten the chicken or some one else, and
men who forgot their wives and children, and all that. If you were impelled
to speak for a cause, I would not object; but you have no inspiring purpose, —
only the vanity of hearing yourself talk, and people clap their hands like
that; ” he clapped his hands @ /a lecture-room, and it did sound rather cheap,
and he then continued: “No, Mariana, don't go upon the platform; stay at
home and lecture me. I will pay you more than any lyceum bureau.”

I have been faithful to husband in this respect. He was my lecture-field
for many years. He always received my views humbly, and paid me well
until the year of his failure, and now he treats me generously again.

September 4. — These are beautiful days — golden mornings, amber noons,
rosy eves; calm days; the trees are laden with fruit; the flocks of birds are
gathering for migrations. I am not wholly serene in mind amid all these
atmospheres of serenity. Tompkin’s Ferry troubles me. I have never been
there; but I am told that it is a very lively town. I am to lecture in the
church.

I have been adding illustrations to my lecture to-day. One of my topics
is “Blunderers who went into Wrong Places.” I have some very amusing
incidents of such mistakes.

I lock the doors of the house and rehearse the lecture every day after
husband goes to the store. I ought to have studied elocution; but Nature is
the great teacher of art.

September 9.—I have been rehearsing before the dress-maker. Husband
heard me rehearsing yesterday. I had just swept before the looking-glass, and
had said, “The true mark of genius is to make a blunder,” when he looked
through the door, and he said, — how could he have been so cruel? — he
said, — : :

“Mariana, you are a genius. When do you begin?”

I shall not give him the date of my first lecture. I shall go alone. I might
not be altogether successful. I recall Demosthenes, Curran, Disraeli, Webster,
Chase, — one has to become used to audiences. Few people strike twelve at
‘first; only one. I only expect to strike one, then two, then three, in the
natural order.

Have been making curves with the trail of my black velvet dress before
the glass, and saying, “The true mark of genius is to make a blunder.”
STORV-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 217

Shall wear diamonds. One should respect one’s audience. To-morrow is
the day, or rather the night. Shall wear asters. Fan. Shall all brighten up,
and look ¢kz¢s way when I begin to speak about the true mark of a genius.
Shall walk to and fro on the platform this way. I always used to admire the
easy methods of Anna Dickinson.

How I do enjoy myself at times thinking how it will all be! Then I have
a little nervous apprehension: events do not always follow the prophecy of the
imagination. I am anxious at times; but it is such a delicious excitement!
such a sweet anxiety! Ruffled life has a charm.

Husband asked me about the date of “my performance.” I treated him
- cavalierly. Said I, loftily — quoting Wendell Phillips, —“ There are two kinds
of people in this world: one kind go ahead and do something; the other show
how it should have been done in some other way.”

He merely said, “Oh!” He saw the point.

I wanted to say, ‘A critic is a man who has fatled;” but I spared his
feelings.

September 12.— The event is past. Thank the stars for the past! I am
glad that there is a past for disappointed hearts. How confidently I began
my journal Fall ist. It has been fall first indeed. But it shall not be fall
second.

I have lectured, or something. What was it? My mind is still confused.

I left town early on the morning of the 12th. I took with me my maid,
and told husband that I was going on a mission. He asked where. I recalled
to him the Margravine of Hungary, whose basket of food turned into roses.
He seemed to think the reminder a pretty one, and he looked benevolent,
sympathetic, and merciful, and only said, “Don’t make any blunders.”

The journey was a long one, and late in the afternoon the train was
detained.

What a dreadful thing it is to be detained a few hours just before one has
an appointment to lecture! What anxiety! what impatience! what suspense!
About a mile on this side of Tompkin’s Ferry, which is a manufacturing town,
is the river, and over the river is a drawbridge. A vessel attempted to pass
through the draw just as we arrived; but the tide was low, and it grounded.
There we were, and I with an appointment to lecture, and the trees were all
aglimmer with the twilight.

I said to the conductor, “I must go on. Iam a lecturer.”

“You ’ll have to walk then,” said he, “or fly. Here we are, and here we
are likely to be until the tide rises.”

“ But I have an appointment to lecture,” said I. “I must go.”
218 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

But my words were air. The ship did not move, and the cars could not
move, and there was a great bustle, and the twilight was fading. I was in
terrible distress.

“You might walk,” said the conductor. ‘Walk over the ship, and climb
up on the other side of the bridge. The boys have done this already. You
might try it.”

“Twill,” said I. “I must keep my appointment, and it is now within an
hour of the time.”

“You might run,” said he.

“Twill,” said I. “TI cannot afford to make any blunders.”

I climbed down the bridge, and crossed the delayed ship, and ran up the
other side of the bridge like a young girl, my maid following. My train
caught on one of the timbers at the top of the bridge, and received a dam-
aging rent. The town was in sight, with luminous mills and darkening
trees. I hurried forward. It was past seven o’clock. I inquired for Federal
Street, the place of the church; but in my haste I did not rightly follow the
direction. .

“Which is the way to Federal Street?” I again asked of a,stranger.

“Don't know, good woman. You ought to have kept the way when you
had it. That is the way to never lose your way,—keep your way when you
have it.”

I was thrown into a great state of nervous excitement by this philosophical
answer. I received a right direction at last, and came to Federal Street.
There was an open church, brilliantly lighted and full of people.

I stopped in the vestibule, and my maid pinned on my rent train, as it was
too late to mend it in the study or dressing-room. I went into the church, and
hurried toward the platform. It was nearly eight o’clock, and I was sure that
the audience were impatient for the lecture to begin.

There was a desk on the platform, and a pitcher of water uponit. At the
back of the desk was a large chair, and on one side of the desk sat a portly
man, whom I supposed to be the chairman of the lecture committee.

I removed my wraps hastily, and gave them to the maid; then went upon
the platform in a state of great confusion, and not at all in the elegant and
graceful manner of my rehearsals.

I sat down in the vacant chair, and turning to the portly man, said, “I am
late; the train was delayed.”

He looked at me ina strange way; he opened his mouth, but his voice
seemed to stick in his throat. He at last said, “Who? who?” which he
pronounced oo, hoo, like an owl.


A PICTURESQUE VIEW OF THE RIVER.
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 221

I glanced over the audience. They were very solemn-looking people ;
very self-respecting and reserved. In the front rows of pews were old people
in very plain dress. The church was perfectly still: No one moved; no one
whispered. I thought I could see a look of surprise or inquiry on many faces;
‘but I attributed this to the lateness and haste of my arrival.

“Shall I begin?” I whispered, nervously, to the portly man by my side.

His mouth opened with an unmistakable expression of wonder and mystery,
and he uttered the same owl-like, ‘““ Hoo? hoo?” as before. “The speaker is
detained in the train on the other side of the river; the draw is up,” said he,
after several gasps. :

“Oh, no; I am the speaker. I climbed over the ship and walked. You
might tell them that. I am Mrs. Freemantle.”

_ “Climbed over the ship and walked’” said he. “< Might tell them that.’
‘Climbed over the ship and walked?’ What ship? This is all very strange.
Hoo? hoo? Mrs. Freemantle? Who is Mrs. Freemantle?”

“I, the lecturer. Shall I begin?”

“T don’t know. The speaker will be here as soon as the draw is down. We
have sent a carriage to the depot.” ;

“But Zam the speaker. I climbed over the ship. I cannot explain it all
now. It is time to begin. I will. It is past eight o’clock.”

I arose and filled a glass with water, :

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said I, “I hope that you will pardon the delay.
It has been unavoidable, as the train is detained at the draw. I climbed over
the ship and walked.” ,

I could see from the expressions on all faces that my appearance and
explanation seemed to suggest that some kind of miraculous event had
happened. I felt a very uncongenial atmosphere about me, and was very ill at
ease. I drank a full glass of water, as the roof of my mouth —if I may use
this very unscientific term —was dry. I then recalled my rehearsals at home
in the drawing-room, and swept out on the platform as I had seen Anna
Dickinson do, and said, —

“The true mark of genius is to make a blunder.”

In sweeping my trail I discovered that I Aad made one blunder at least.
The pins had come out of the velvet, and there was exposed the fearful rent I
had made in it when climbing over the top of the bridge. The circumstance
was very confusing; but I retired behind the little desk, and I again filled the

glass with water, as my pharynx and zsophagus were becoming parched
again.
222 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

I had an illustration of a blunder for the beginning of my lecture which I
thought was very amusing. It was the story of a couple who were going to
be married, and were to take an express train to a distant city for the purpose
of having the ceremony privately performed. They went on board the train,
but seeing friends on the outside, got out to receive congratulations, became
separated, and, while they were earnestly talking, another express train came
into the depot. Suddenly the gong rang for the departure of the trains, — one
train of which was going east, and the other west. The bride and the bride-
groom hurried toward the cars, and got upon separate trains, as each train was
moving away. I described the horror of the bridegroom and the terror of the
bride on the discovery of the blunder. The story had greatly amused and
interested the club when I read the paper before it.

But it fell dead here. No one laughed; no one applauded. The church
was as still as a hall of statues. I drank another glass of water, and wondered
what I would do when the pitcher was exhausted. I continued, —

“As I said, my hearers, the true mark of genius is to make a blunder,
and—” :

There came rushing through the door a tall, clerical-looking man, with a
white face and high forehead, a close collar and a white necktie, and a suit of
black. He strode upon the stage, and stopped and glared at me as though I
were a crazy woman. I stopped and bowed.

He stood there with staring eyes, his coat on his arm, and his hat in his
hand.

“This is the preacher, madam,” said the portly man, rising.

“Is this Mrs. Freemantle?” asked the tall man, bowing.

a Yes, Iam Mrs. Freemantle, the lecturer.”

“TI beg your pardon, madam, but this is not your church. Your audience
are met at the church on the other end of the street. You have made a
blunder.”

I had made a blunder indeed. I gathered up my torn train and walked
down the platform, and looked about for my little maid.

It was now nearly nine o’clock. I went to the church at the other end of
the street. The people were coming out of it, having been dismissed by the
chairman of the lecture committee. I hurried toward’ the depot to be in time
for the ten o’clock train home. d

September 14. —The morning paper has a paragraph headed, “ A Curious

Blunder at Tompkin’s Ferry.” I would n’t read that paragraph for untold
gold.
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 223

Before we give a more detailed account of New Orleans, let us
revert to some more of the agreeable stories and curious episodes that
enlivened our traveller's journey down the Mississippi.

One sunny afternoon as the boat was gliding lazily along, Mr.
Green attempted to give his friends a view of one of the remarkable
enterprises of Chicago. He was seated at one end of the deck, and
Mrs. Green with some ladies at the other. Near Mrs. Green was an
old colored “ mammy,” who was called Aunt Cloe, who was famous as
an “exhorter” and singer.

“ As wonderful as is the Fair,” said Mr. Green, “it is not a bolder
or more enterprising conception on the part of Chicago than that of
her making Tampa, Florida, the port of South America. Think of
the distance from Chicago to Port Tampa! Think also of the build-
ing of a new suburb to Chicago a thousand miles away !

~The republics of Mexico and South America have thrown off the
- Spanish rule, dominion, and influence, and the native Indian races
have regained their rights. Look at the achievements of Juarez in
Mexico.”

At this point Miss Green came and whispered to Arthur that
Aunt Cloe was about to tell a story. Arthur slowly and quietly
slipped away to his mother’s side.

“Look at the Argentine Republic,” continued Mr. Green; “Don
Pedro's flight from Brazil, after his noble reign; look at the work in
human progress brought about by Guzman Blanco! San Martin was
another Washington, and well may the Argentine Republic make his
tomb one of the honored spots of the earth! Blanco was a hero, and
the world never knew a nobler heart than the leader of all this
progress, ‘General Bolivar!’”

At the close of this interesting statement, Mr. Green was surprised
to hear a mournful voice at the other end of the boat singing, —

““« Where, O where am de Hebrew childen ?
Where, O where am de Hebrew childen ?

Where, O where am de Hebrew childen ?
Safe now in de Goodly Land.’ ”
224 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

It was Aunt Cloe. The old song was familiar to him. There was
nothing unusual about it so far except the interruption, and. he
continued, — .

“ Chicago sees what South America and Central America is to be
when the Nicaraguan Canal is finished and a common railway system
unites the three Americas. This grand highway to the confederacy
of the three Americas is to be through the Mississippi Valley, Chicago,
Tampa, and the ports to Cape Horn. I think that the time is coming
when all the republics of the New World will unite, and have one
common high court, and that in that court all international questions
will be settled, and there will never be any more cause for war, but —”

“**Bum, bum by dey ’ll all come down again,’”

sang Aunt Cloe.

There was a loud laugh at the other end of the boat, and all the
ears of Mr. Green’s auditors were turned in that direction. He was
amazed to hear Aunt Cloe’s new and enlarged view as to the
“ Hebrew children,” and the admiring voices of the negroes as they fell
into the chorus: —

«<«Bum, bum by dey ’Il ad come down again,
Bum, bum by dey ’Il all come down again,

Bum, bum by dey’ll all come down again,
Safe from de Goodly Land.’ ”

Mr. Green’s hearers all rose, and quickly turned away from his
glowing account of the future of the native races of South America,
and the Floridian port of Chicago, and the high court of the New
World’s republics that was to inaugurate an eternal era of peace in the
three Americas, to Aunt Cloe, and the wonderful song-picture that
she was giving of spiritual things. Aunt Cloe paused at the end
of the remarkable refrain, and stared at the audience.

“Wot make you laugh? Dey wll, yes dey will, bress de
preachers and de elders!”

She lifted her face to the sun, and in a high key, continued, —
7

STOR Y-TELLING ON. THE MISSISSIPPI. 225

/

“ ‘Where, O where, am de good ole elders ?
Where, O where, am de good ole elders ?
Where, O where, am de good ole elders?
Saf? now in de Goodly Land!
Bum, bum by dey ‘ll all come down again,
Bum, bum by dey ’ll all come down again,
Bum, bum by dey ll all come down again,
Saf’ from de Goodly Land!’”

“You don’t mean, Cloe, that they ll all come down again,” said
Mrs. Green. “You mean that all the souls of good people will
eo tps |

“Go up? Dey’ve all gone up now. Go up? Dey’s gone.
Wot good dat do? No, no, 1’se and de elder has got beyond dat,
missus; yes, we has, bress-my soul, I’se przveleged ; — I’s a professin’
Baptis’, — I’m hastenin’ on —missus. A steamboat once exploded
her boiler right off here!”

This startling announce-
ment led Mrs. Green to re-
call the stories that she had
read of the old steamboat
races on the Mississippi.
There is one curious story
of these races that is old,
and generally familiar, but
is still repeated by passen-
gers on the river steamers.

“ Cloe,” said Mrs. Green,
“did you ever hear of the
steamer that won the race.

by the old lady’s lard and



A STEAMBOAT EXPLOSION. d
3’)
hams? \

“Don’t I, missus? Dat tale am gospel true. It were a mighty
quar story, it wuz now. Dey won dat race, but de biler busted right
in de middle uv de victory. Dey went up, but bress my soul, —

15
226 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

‘Bum, bum by dey ’ll all come down again,
Bum, bum by dey ’ll all come down again,
Bum, bum by dey ’Il all come down again,
Saf from de Goodly Land.’ ”

Aunt Cloe turned her great black eyes upward, as she sung the
refrain, and patted her hands on her knees.

“ This is as how it was, missus. Listen now, an’ I'll tell ye. Dat .
ole woman she was a mighty pious soul, she were,

‘Bum, bum by she ’Il all come down again.’

And she didn’t believe in no races, nor card-playin’ nor sich. She
might ha’ been a Methody; but I expects she was a professin’ Baptis’,
just like me, and one ob de saints ob the yearth. Well, she started
down de ribber one morning wid hams and lard to sell, and she
determined to start right. Alwus start, honey, and get yer bearin’s,
‘coz you can nebber tell wot is goin’ to happen. To-day we’re here
smart as pepper-grass, and to-morrow we’se all blown up; but nebber

min’ de trouble. ;
‘Bum, bum by we ’ll all come down again.’

So don’t be afraid, missus. *Tain’t every steamer dat get’s blown
up like dat one did. Dis is an ole steamer we ’re on now: hear the
biler wiggle-woggle. One never knows wot’s goin’ to happen.

“Well dat good old woman had some sense in her head, as well as
grace in her heart, and she went to the captain, and says she, —

“Capt'n, dis boat don’t never race, does she?’

“«No, —nor never gets beat,’ said he. Yer see he wuz a double-
mind man, and mighty onstable.

“ So de ole woman she felt peaceful-like, but still a little onsartin,
an’ she went agin to de capt’n, and sez she, —

“« Capt'n, I’se terribly afraid ob boats wot race, an’ I would n’t trus’
my lard on no sech boats for no money. - Are ye sure about it? You
is n’t one o’ dem leap-frog kind 0’ men dat loses der head and senses
and —’
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 227

“* Oh, go long, said de capt’n; ‘if I were to try to race dis boat,
she ’d bust.’

“Den de ole woman she felt safe; an’ she put down her hams an’
lard on de deck, an’ sat down, an’ de trumpets blew, an’ de bell
jingled, an’ de boat began to puff, puff, puff! an’ de wheels to beat
de water. De ribber wuz as lubly as de ribber Jordan, an’ de sun
was shiny, an’ everybody wuz happy. But at las’ der come anudder
steamer down de ribber, puff, puff, puff! an’ she blew her trumpets,
an’ was goin’ sailin’ by, when de wicked passengers put der fingers
on der noses, just like da¢z. ’Tis a Yankee trick; wot bad folks
do up Nof.











































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE FAMOUS RUN OF THE ROBERT E. LEE.

“Well, honey, de capt’n uv de steamer couldn't stan’ dat.
Dere’s some things human natur’ can’t stan’; and he fell from his
steadiness an’ forgot de promis’ he had made to de ole woman, an’
shouted, —

“¢Put on all steam,’ and at dat dey fired up de ole biler. How
dis boat does joggle! Well, de two boats began to race. As soon’s
228 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

de good ole lady wid de hams see wot dey wuz doin’, she run up to
de loft to de capt’n, and sez she, —

“*Capt'n, you’se doin’ a wicked ting; but dat other capt’n, he am
wickeder, an’ don’t you let de wickeder triumph ober de gooder, but
wotebber ye do, don’t you let dat boat pass, — you just stan’ to de wheel,
an’ I'll wave my apron an’ cry hooray!’

“ Well, you see dat good ole woman, she plum lost her head. Her
heart wuz right, but her head went wrong. ‘De han’s wur de
han’s of Esau, but de voice wuz de voice of Jacob.” It is dreadful
onfortunate doin’ wen a pusson wid a right heart loses der heads.
-Wen a pusson loses his head, one can nebber know wot is gwine
to happen.

“Well dey raced an’ raced. Sometimes one boat got ahead, an’
den t’other. An’ de folks on both boats all got excited-like an’
went crazy-like an’ shouted, an’ wiggled dat Yankee trick from up
Nof on der noses just so, like a crawfish out ob de water; but by an’
by de black boy come runnin’ up from de hollows down below, de
sweat runnin’ like ribbers down his cheeks, an’ he roll up his eyes,
an’ he shout to de capt’n, —

“*De wood ’s all gin’ out!’

“Put on anyting you can find,’ sez de capt’n, sez he. ‘Put
on de benches.’

“So de boy he just jerked up de seats, and threw em down into
de hollows below, an’ put ’em on de fire; an’ de boat it shot ahead
ob t’other one, an’ de folks all danced an’ shouted, an’ de ole
woman dat had been so afraid ob a racin’-boat, she waved her han’ker-
chief, an’ leaned back’ards an’ for’ards, an’ stooped up an’ down, an’
shouted ‘ Hooray e

*“ But jus’ den de boy he come up agin, all streamin’, ‘ Fuel all done
gone now,’ he shouted. ‘Wot’s to be done, now?’ |

“De capt’n he was all excitement now, an’ shouted, ‘ Pour on
de ile.
STORY-TELLING ON THE MISSISSIPPI, 229

“So de boy poured on de ile; but putty soon dat was all gone too,
an’ de oder boat wuz comin’ up right along-side, puff, puff, puff !— all
puffed up wid pride an’ vanity. An’ de boat began to wobble-
wobble, just as dis one am doin’ now, an’ ebberybody wuz in confusion
an’ despair. Dey were all at wit’s-end. Wot happened?

“¢Put on my lard an’ hams,’ shouted de: good ole woman to de
boy; an’ der went up a great cheer. She wuz a patriot, — ain't dat
what you call’em? An’ dat boy he seized de ole woman’s lard, an’
poured it onto dat fire; and de boat went wiggle-waggle, an’ de
wharf wuz jest ahead, an’ she touched it fust, before dat oder one did.
An’ dey all shouted ‘ Victory !’

“ But Juss den when dey wuz all in dae state of happiment, an’
dancin’ an’ hoorayin,’ de. ole biler had a relapse, — don’t ebber relapse,
honey, —an’ blew all to bits, an’ split de boat right open in de
middle, an’ some ob de folkses were kilt, an’ some were shot up into
de heabens; but never you mind, honey, —

‘Bum, bum by dey’ll’all come down. again.’

Dat dey will. Dat hymb am mighty comfortin’.”

Mrs. Green said, “ I’ll take a back-seat as a story-teller now.”

There is a great rivalry among the Baptist and Methodist colored
people in the South Mississippi River country. Each member of each
of these great denominations tries to do especial honor to his church
by superior conduct, habit, and experience ; and there is something not
unpleasing in this trait of character. So when the tourist hears the
frequent allusion on the part of these people to ‘professin’ Baptist,’
or ‘shoutin’ Methodist, he feels that there is a seed of honor in the
pride, and is glad to note its worth. The happiness of these people
lies in their Flin hopes, and no hearts are better plepance for
educational influences.

If old Aunt Cloe awakened a genuine interest as a story-teller,
she was in danger of a rival. Her musical story had reminded Arthur
230 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

of the old German song of Johnnie Schmoker; which he proceeded to
act, to the great amusement of both the white and the colored people.

COLUMBUS AND THE EGG.

There was one story of the journey that greatly delighted ali
parties wherever it was told, and it was told often. It was developed
by Arthur. The boy had read the oft-repeated incident of Columbus
and the egg; how that the marines had claimed that he could make
an egg to stand on end, and did so by breaking the end of the eggs,
and when reminded that any one could do that, answered, “ If one
knew how.” He had heard one say that a person could put an egg
into a bottle, “if one knew how, and that there was a way to do it.”

Arthur had learned the way, and sought to accomplish it in the
interest of his home museum. He first soaked the egg in vinegar. By
a slow process he pushed the egg from whose shell the lime had thus
been extracted into a bottle, through a neck half its size. He then
filled the bottle with water, and added lime, which formed a new shell
to the egg; then poured out the water, and the experiment was suc-
cessful. He showed the egg in the bottle to his friends, old and new,
told the story of Columbus, and used to say, —

“Nothing is a mystery when you know how a thing is done.”

“Dat am so,” said a young negro to whom Arthur showed the
egg on the boat and made this wise remark, and who added,
winking and blinking, —

“+ T’saw two stars arising
Upon the shady sky —

Oh, no —I was mistaken,
°T was the glimmer of her eye!’

Nofin’ is a myster’, boss. Ya, ya, ya!”

That bit of poetry was Oriental.
CHAPTER XIV.

CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS,
NEW ORLEANS.

k HEN October comes around, St.
’ Louis has a wonderful day of
patriotic street pageants. At this
"festival the Veiled Prophet, as in
Moore’s “ Lalla Rookh,” has her
splendid court. Concord in the
days of Miss Alcott used to have
a like festival on the 4th of July,
when patriotic tableaux were made
to float under illuminations at
night, down the river.





A NEW ORLEANS HOLIDAY?

So mighty is the mighty Mississippi where it rolls by the city, curving ina
crescent as it goes, and so vast are the bayous and lakes about her, that one would
not easily suppose New Orleans had raised her splendor more than a hundred
miles from the sea. There is something romantic and marvellous in her seat,
among so many waters and below the level of the river that pushes itself and its
detritus through innumerable mouths far out into the Gulf below her.

The town is protected by an embankment called a ‘‘levee,” generally used
as a wharf by throngs of steamers and packets; it rises several feet in a gradual

1 This topic is written by Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford, and is used by permission of
the “ Youth’s Companion.”
232 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI

slope, so that no flood in the river will overflow the streets. The levee on
another side of the city skirts the lake, and is a protection against the back-
water of storms.
These embankments are in use all along the course of the Father of
_ Waters ; and when by any caprice of the river, by undermining through their
own weight, or bad building, or other reason, a break in them occurs, miles and
miles of country are swept under
the current, to the destruction of
everything but the virgin soil,
and sometimes even of that. It
is one of these occurrences that
has furnished Mr. Cable with his
powerful story of “ The Belles
Demoiselles Plantation,” where
the unnoticed river, eating its
slow way, suddenly at night
bursts all bounds, and the land,
and the house, with its lights
and harp-players and dancers,
go down and disappear in the
horrible darkness. The water-
- works of the city have now
brought the Mississippi into the
hydrants, and the gutters are
flushed by the great river that,
THE CRESCENT CITY. when kept in close bonds, does
good service.

The city occupies the whole parish of Orleans, which is, in reality, about a
hundred and fifty square miles ; but only about forty of them are used. One
mile of it was originally laid out by De la Tour, with the streets crossing at
right angles, the cathedral at the front centre; but where the town has
extended, it has done so irregularly. There are beautiful parks and squares,
‘canals for commerce and for drainage, hospitals and hotels, a mint, a custom-
house, a host of markets, a city hall of white marble, a hundred and forty-seven
public schools, and street railways run by fireless engines. Canal Street, which
is a splendid avenue, a hundred and fifty feet wide, divides the old town from
the new.

The old town is chiefly the ancient French settlement, where the streets
are often not forty feet in width, with quaint names, like Rue Royale, Rampart,






































Sh

























CANAL STREET, NEW ORLEANS.
CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 235

Esplanade, with quaint signs over them, and with quainter people frequenting
them. Because of the unusual in face and speech, and because of its historical
character, replete with legend, this isa much more interesting portion of he
city than that with the broad, well-shaded streets and spacious houses in the
midst of gardens, where the sward is greener than emerald, and one looks
through the open palings upon clusters of the deep-pink crape-myrtle, upon
palm-ferns, upon open galleries peopled by lovely ladies in lawns and laces,
where the magnolias lift their dark towers of shining greenery, and where
here and there an old palm-tree invites the eye up its thirty or forty feet of
scaly bark and, dropping its old brown boughs, high in the blue air is putting
forth its new plumes.

There are several of these palm-trees in the city, and everybody has an
affectionate remembrance of Pére Antoine’s date-palm, that grew from the
heart of little Anglicé. If a suggestion of Sir Charles Lyell’s were adopted,
that an avenue should be planted with a double row of these stately and
gracious palms, it would be an added charm to a place that hardly needs one.

It makes a child of New England feel far away from home when looking
at the lovely marvel of a palm-tree; yet, nevertheless, if once inside those
pleasant places, one is made to feel very much at home. One seems to be in
a land of enchantment though, when looking out at one of these gardens in full
bloom, just as a shower has fallen, and a norther comes up to freeze every drop
of the rain, and sheathed in the thin film of ice, that has formed too quickly to
wither them, every flower sparkles in the returning’ sunshine with ruby and
sapphire and topaz petals, —till Aladdin’s garden itself, where every leaf on
every tree was a gem, could do no more in the way of splendor.

There are several features of New Orleans that are to be seen in few other
cities, and that strike the stranger’s eye. One is the sewage in the open gutters,
that crawls festering along with slime and scum on the top, even through the
finest streets, that one has to step across at every crossing, and that one meets
a little way out of the more populous portion of the place in a canal ten feet
wide, scattering an intolerable stench. It is, doubtless, from such and kindred
sources that New Orleans gives the yellow-fever so good nourishment, — that
monster which does its worst often in the fairest parts of the place, and leaves
the calaboose in safety. It would seem as if the Mississippi hydrants might do
their work a little more effectually in flushing these gutters; but it perhaps
takes an even stronger power than the mighty river to clean them, as, after _
they have run their slow length of filth to its receptacle, the contents have to
be pumped up and discharged into deep water.

Although the water is brought into town, as before stated, nearly every
236 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

house has its cistern for rainwater besides, built above ground, lest any of the

_moisture of the damp river-penetrated soil should percolate through their
sides; these cisterns are circular, and hooped like a gigantic hogshead, and
they sometimes reach to the top of the third story. One gets interested in the
sight, and feels that only those in this climate have wealth and luxury who
have broad galleries and enormous cisterns. This water is cooled for drinking
by ice which is manufactured through chemical means, of a finer grain and
at a rather cheaper rate than nature can supply it, taking freight into
consideration.

It is this wet soil which makes it impossible to dig a cellar or a grave in
New Orleans. All the dead are buried above ground in little ovens, as one
might call the mounds, or in stately tombs. This necessity has brought about
another necessity, — that of making the cemeteries beautiful. Although there is
something disagreeable to unused eyes and sensibilities in the little marble
temples, whose glass doors allow one to see the caskets on their shelves, with
their wreaths of immortelles, or of fresh flowers, yet the habit of thorough
renovation just before each All Saints’ Day, the alleys and fountains, the
temples and groups of sculpture, the willows and wisaches, the live-oaks draped
in funereal mosses, the magnolias and palms and flowers, make these cemeteries
places of great beauty

But the whole region of New Orleans is one of remarkable beauty. In the
city, even where the houses are in blocks and rows, they are covered with lace-
like fronts of iron balconies, and many of the dwellings are of a peculiar
architecture, pretty, low, masked in vines, and surrounded by small gardens.
There is a charming drive to Lake Pontchartrain, on the Shell Road, and one
of the favorite diversions is to go out of a hot night, either by rail or road, to
the old Spanish fort or to the restaurants at the West End, and order a supper
of pompanos and soft-shell crabs and other delicacies, served on the veranda
(and now by the electric light), while the cool, delicious breeze blows off the
lake, and sails steal slowly about far out on the horizon’s edge of the purple
waters. Nothing is more weird and captivating to the fancy than the light-
houses down among these lonely waters. 7 os

By whatever way you enter New Orleans, you can gather an idea of the
amount of wealth of which it is and is to be the entrepot ; whether you see it
coming down the river in barges and three-decker steamboats, or whether on
the huge freight-steamers that wind in the other direction along the rich regions
of the southern shore. ; ;

Perhaps no richer regions exist in the world than these, — the great planta-
tions of the Teche and of St. Mary’s Parish, where immense plains, teeming






































































































































































































































































































































































































OLD TIME CARNIVAL SCENE, NEW ORLEANS.

CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 239

with rice and sugar and cotton, stretch their dazzling tender green into the
distant sky, broken by no other fence than at long intervals a blossoming
hedge, or else a wilder reach of cypress-swamps, the lofty trees gay with a wild
luxuriance of vine and gorgeous bloom, — flashing with pools of water, on whose
edges one often sees a basking alligator, a beautiful blue heron, or a rosy
spoon-bill; here and there a narrow water-way opening, down which float the





THE SPANISH FORT NEAR NEW ORLEANS.

cypress ties cut far back in the forest, and fastened together by chains and
ropes, ; ,

On this side of New Orleans there is a world of romance appertaining to
the days of slavery; in New Orleans itself, to the old French and Spanish life;
and in the islands round the mouth of the river, to the days of the pirate
Lafitte, '

Lafitte, although he once fortified the two ends of the island, and styled
himself Governor of Galveston, at another time made his stronghold in the flat
land, a dozen miles or more below the city. Among the innumerable branches
and bays, concealment for himself and his outlaws was the easiest matter in the
world; and on the island of Barataria, favorably situated for the purpose, and
with easy escape, very healthy and abounding with game, he erected his
fortifications. ;

Lafitte had been one of Bonaparte’s captains; he was well known in New
Orleans, and not discountenanced at first. I have seen an old lady of good
240 : ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPH. |

family who in her youth had danced with him, and to whom he had made a
present of diamonds, as I was told. But later, and when his outrages became
unbearable, the Governor of Louisiana offered a reward of five hundred dollars
for his head.




























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MARDI-GRAS.

He replied immediately by offering a reward of fifteen thousand dollars
for the head of the governor. A company of soldiers sent against him were
surrounded by the pirate’s men, who rose from a hundred secret ways, took
them all prisoners, but afterwards released them in scorn. An officer of the
navy, with his gun-boats, had to retreat before them, and it was not till the
CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 241

United States sent a formidable force against them that the nest of pirates
were destroyed.

The people of New Orleans are, perhaps, as cosmopolitan as any in the
world, if not more so. Among them are many Roman Catholics, and that
may be the rea-
son why certain
festivals of the
Carnival season
are kept by them
with great dis-
play, especially
that of the Mar-
di-gras, which the
French citizens
began to cele-
brate at about
1827.

Itis a legal hol-
iday, under the
control of King
Carnival, known
as Rex, who ap-
pears suddenly
upon the streets, attended by his

special guard, and escorted by United

States troops and marines, ina proces-
sion of surpassing beauty, group after
group arranged regardless of expense,
with superb effect, and drawn slowly along
in a dazzle of splendor. This group, per-
haps, illustrates Egypt, — pyramid, palm-
tree, Pharaoh, with Cleopatra in her barge,

MARDI-GRAS FEATS OF CHIVALRY. with the fellah of the Nile and the Sphinx

watching these various eras of her children ;
and that one is Chivalry, with the knights and ladies, falcons and medizval
accessories; another is Music, it may be, or it is the event of some especial
epoch, such as the meeting of the Kings in the Field of the Cloth of Gold, or
the walk of Hypatia, where Jew and Greek and Goth and early Christian met
on the same spot.





16
242 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The idea of each group is a central one, and it is carried out with spirit.
Jewels and velvets and cloth of gold are but a part of the sumptuous array
where everything is on a princely scale. The affair has been of so long date
that even the children know the characters, and can call them by name.

At night the Mystick Crewe take up the tale, —a secret body, none outside
of their own band knowing who they are, coming from nowhere, and departing
-as they came.

A ball, at which Rex chooses his queen, takes place after a series of match-
less tableaux, the whole arrangement being as superbly scenic and processional
as can be made. One prefers not to see in this anything like an advertisement
to bring the money of strangers into the place; but if it were so, it is certain
the strangers get their money’s worth.

On the whole, it will be seen, that few places have more to offer strangers
than New Orleans; and its climate is one of balm, — the frost seldom amounting
to discomfort, and the heat always tempered’ by a Gulf breeze.

We have given the story of De Soto in another volume, and
also that of La Salle. There is one romantic pioneer associated
with the early history of the Gulf country whose adventures are seldom
told. It is Galvez, who gave the name to Galveston, and who was
viceroy of Mexico, and raised the white castle of Chapultepec out ot
the ruins of the halls and baths of the Montezumas. There is one
heroic story told of Galvez which equals anything related of De Soto
or La Salle, the historic pioneers of the Mississippi. We give it in
verse : —

GALVEZ.

BENEATH the dusky tropic stars, ~
And misty moons that rose and fled,
His fleet with drooping sails and spars
Across the breathless Gulf he led, —
Galvez!
A man of noble mien was he,
Who thought that will was destiny.

In flaming skies he saw afar
Clear Pensacola’s palmy sound,
CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 243

And, rising o’er the harbor bar,
The English fortress, turret-crowned, —
Galvez !
And English flag that claimed the main,
And mocked the double crowns of Spain.

“* No ship can ever cross the bar,”
The pilots, one by one, exclaimed ;
fe scanned the glimmering sky afar,
Where low the red-cross banner flamed, —
Galvez !
“The ships skadd cross the bar,”’ said he.
‘«‘ And plough the white sands like the sea.

“On, on!” The unwilling rudders turned
Toward the narrow channels, when
He in the sinking tides discerned
The shifting sands, and called again, —
Galvez !
‘** Brave men, like gods, events create,
And will is destiny, — not fate!”

“ Back, back again !”’ broke from the lips
Of Spanish pilots, old and grave ;
Stern grew the master of the ships,
And grand, as though he ruled the wave, —
Galvez!
‘Bring me the cross of Spain,” said he,
“ And launch the life-boat on the sea!”

The boat was launched ; the flag of Spain
He seized with purpose firm, and then
He leaped upon the level main,
And proudly turned toward his men, —
Galvez !
And rowed the life-boat toward the bar,
Then faced the silent crews afar.

‘¢ Shall Spain’s sea banner suffer loss? ”’
Its folds Castilian rippled down,
Two golden crowns beneath the cross,
And for a kingdom stood each crown, —
Galvez !
What sullen eyes beheld him bear
That glimmering banner through the air!
244 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Boom, boom! . The English guns rang clear,
And fell a shower of leaden rain,
But Galvez heard without a fear,
And faced the wondering crews of Spain, —
Galvez!
“Ho, anchors lift!’ loud shouted he,
* And plough the sand-bars like the sea!”

Boom, boom! the fortress thundered loud,
And fell again the rain of fire ;
But he, amid his silken cloud,
Moved on like Arion with his lyre, —
Galvez !
Moved on, and on, and cried again,
“ Ho, follow me, ye ships of Spain!”

The banner shining on the sea,
The smoke rolled o’er it like a cloud,
Then from the shade it floated free
O’er Galvez, still erect and proud, —
Galvez !
Immortal be his name.
’T is souls that burn that souls inflame !

Lo, now the white sails lift on high,
Gay with the flags of old Castile !
He sees the light ships toward him fly,
And plough the bar, keel after keel, —
Galvez!
His soul alone upon the sea
Had won a twofold victory !

Whene’er I see Galveston’s arch
Above the booming waves, I feel
His spirit still whose mighty march
- The city and the bay reveal, —
Galvez!
A man of inspiration, he
Who walked with feet of faith the sea.

New Orleans, poetic, historic, sunny, at last came into view, its
spires shading the red light of an almost tropic sunset. It extends
six miles along the river with which it wages war over the levees, and
which it holds captive by a strong arm. It commands ten thousand
















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































WATER-FRONT, NEW ORLEANS,
CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 247

miles of steam navigation, and as a port is one of the wonders of the
world. Like Liverpool, it is a city of ships as well as of houses. It is
a Queen of the Sea and the rivers as well as of the land.

The history of New Orleans is that of three empires. The city
began with the Spanish Conquest, was settled by the French in 1718,
and was transferred to Spain in
1763, and soon after was trans-
ferred to France again. It be-
came a part of the United States
through a treaty negotiated by
Napoleon I., in 1803. In 1815
it was attacked by the British
army, and defended by General
Jackson at the famous battle of
New Orleans.

The old cathedral impressed
itself upon the class, and the
French market was a delight to







Arthur. : SRNAEARNOD Fo

At the airy hotel, Mr. Green, STATUE OF JACKSON, NEW ORLEANS.
pere, related the romantic story of
Iberville, the father of the Colony of Louisiana. This man, who was
one of a family of eleven brothers, two of whom, Bienville and Sanvolle,
were pioneers of the Mississippi, was commissioned to explore the
great river in 1698. He came with a fleet and erected fortifications
near Mobile. In 1700 he explored the Mississippi, and from this date
began the settlement of the Southern Mississippi Valley.

The reader may like to see the poem, “ On the Shores of Tennes-
see,” which we described as having been read to music on the boat.
It was written in war days, and has never ceased to haunt the platform,
and, read to the music of the “ Star-Spangled Banner,” is picturesque
and touching, and usually awakens a spell of sympathetic memories:
248 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Fae TO



THE UNIVERSITY, NEW ORLEANS.

ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.

Music — “ Star-Spangled Banner.”

“MOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
In the sunshine bright and strong.

For this world is fading, Pompey, —
Massa won’t be with you long;

And I fain would hear the south wind
Bring once more the sound to me

Of the wavelets softly breaking
On the shores of Tennessee.

“Mournful though the ripples murmur,
As they still the story tell,

How no vessels float the banner
That I’ve loved so long and well,
CARNIVALS AND LEGENDS, NEW ORLEANS. 249’

I shall listen to their music,
Dreaming that again I see

Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop
Sailing up the Tennessee.

“ And, Pompey, while old Massa’s waiting
For death’s last despatch to come,

If that exiled starry banner
Should come proudly sailing home,

You shall greet it, slave no longer; —
Voice and hand shall both be free,

That shout and point to Union colors
On the waves of Tennessee.”

“‘Massa’s berry kind to Pompey ;
But ole darky’s happy here,
Where he’s tended corn and cotton
For ’ese many a long-gone year.
Over yonder Missis sleeping —
No one tends her grave like me;
Mebbe she would miss the flowers
She used to love in Tennessee.

“.?Pears like she was watching, Massa,
If Pompey should beside him stay ;
Mebbe she’d remember better
How for him she used to pray ;
Telling him that way up yonder
White as snow his soul would be,
If he served the Lord of heaven
While he lived in Tennessee.”

Silently the tears were rolling
Down the poor old dusky face,

As he stepped behind his master,
In his long-accustomed place.

Then a silence fell around them,
As they gazed on rock and tree,

Pictured in the placid waters

' Of the rolling Tennessee ; —

Master, dreaming of the battle
Where he fought by Marion’s side,

When he bid the haughty Tarleton
Stoop his lordly crest of pride ;
250 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Man, remembering how yon sleeper
Once he held upon his knee,

Ere she loved the gallant soldier,
Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.

Still the south wind fondly lingers
Mid the veteran’s silvery hair ;
Still the bondman, close beside him,
Stands behind the old arm-chair.

With his dark-hued hand uplifted,
Shading eyes, he bends to see

Where the woodland, boldly jutting,
Turns aside the Tennessee.

Thus he watches cloud-born shadows
Glide from tree to mountain crest,
Softly creeping, aye and ever,
To the river’s yielding breast.
Ha, above the foliage yonder
Something flutters wild and free!
“ Massa, Massa! Hallelujah!
The flag ’s come back to Tennessee!”

“ Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,
Help me stand on foot once more,
That I may salute the colors
As they pass my cabin door.
Here’s the paper signed that frees you ;
Give a freeman’s shout with me, —
‘God and Union !’ be our watchword
Evermore in Tennessee.”’

Then the trembling voice grew fainter,
And the limbs refused to stand ;

One prayer to Jesus, — and the soldier
Glided to that better land.

When the flag went down the river,
Man and master both were free,

While the ring-dove’s note was mingled
With the rippling Tennessee.
MISSISSIPPI DAY. 251

MISSISSIPPI DAY.— THE STRANGE LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

TueE great legends of England and Germany each relate to the
slaying of a dragon by a champion of honor and the Christian faith.
In them is figuratively represented the triumph of good over evil, of
right over wrong. It is remarkable that the great legend of the
Mississippi River should have been essentially the same.

In his journey of discovery in 1673, Marquette came to the Great
River on June 17,— Mississippi Day. Marquette passed on the



























MARQUETTE AND JOLIET CROSSING THE GREAT LAKES.

Mississippi the mouth of the Illinois River, and glided in his canoe
under some high rocks which became known among the French as
“The Ruined Castles.” Under that name these bluffs appeared on
the old French maps. The explorer believed that the Devil was the
lord of the wilderness, but that his dominion would fade and vanish
252 ZIGZAG. JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

before the advent of the Cross. The early Jesuits went on their
journey singing, —

“Ye mysteries of the Cross, advance ;
Ye glorious truths, shine forth.”

As Marquette looked up to these castle-like rocks from his canoe
on the smooth water, he beheld a sight that filled him with terror and
wonder. On the flat surface of one of the bluffs were representations
of two dragons. They were colored after the old historical traditions,







MARQUETTE AND JOLIET AT ANCHOR ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

in green, red, and black. Each, he says, was “as large as a calf, with
horns like a deer, red eyes, a beard like a tiger, and a frightful expres-
sion of countenance. The face,” he continues, “ was like a man’s;
the body was covered wth scales, and the tail was so long that it
passed entirely round the body, over the head and between the legs,
ending like that of a fish.” The gveex color, the scales, and the wind-
ing tails of these two monsters suggested the work of a European
mind, or more likely the artifice of the Evil One. The Jesuits looked
upon the place as the Devil’s rocks, and turned to their crucifixes.

The rock where these monsters were seen was at a point just
above the place where the city of Alton now stands.
MISSISSIPPI DAY. 253

“The Evil One here has set his image,” said one of the Jesuits;
“but when the Cross shall pass by it, it will vanish away.”

He lifted the Cross, and the canoe drifted slowly on.

“I must make a picture of the Two Dragons,” said Marquette.

He did so. This picture appeared on an old map made by the
order of the Intendant Duchesneau, and gave the legend a thrilling
meaning. Copies of the picture still exist.

Were these dragons with green color, scales, and winding tails, the
work of Indians? If so, where did the native races receive the idea ?
Were they the work of unknown explorers? If so, the Mississippi
was discovered by unknown explorers long before the days of De
Soto, Marquette, and La Salle.

The figures were seen by Saint Cosmo in 1699, but they had nearly
disappeared. Joutel, an explorer, saw them; but not being of a super-
stitious mind, he was not terrified by them.

They gradually faded, not on account of the passing by of the
champions of the Cross, but by the natural effects of time. In 1860,
or about that date, they had disappeared, and a part of the rock had
been quarried away.

The disappearance of the Two Dragons of the Mississippi before
the Cross was the material for a fine poetic story, picture, or work of
art. The romantic life of Marquette, his visionary and prophetic
beliefs, his dramatic death, — all make this scene worthy of allegorical
representation.

Parkman in his “La Salle” thus pictures the poetic historical
events that followed the sight of the Two Dragons :—

“They continued a long time to talk of them (the pictured monsters) as
they plied their paddles. They were thus engaged when they were suddenly
aroused by real danger. A torrent rushed athwart the calm current of the
Mississippi, boiling and surging, and sweeping in its course logs, branches, and
uprooted trees. They had reached the mouth of the Missouri.”

Parkman adds :—
254 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“They passed the lonely forest that covered the site of the destined city of
St. Louis, and a few days later saw on their left the mouth of the stream to
which the Iroquois had given the well-merited name of Ohio, or the Beautiful
River.”

The period of the great emigration to the Mississippi Valley came,
and science has crumbled the Castle Rocks where dwelt the Dragons
in effigy. The beautiful city of Alton arose near the place of the
poetic superstition, —if events of prophetic meanings can be called
superstitious.

The Dragons overcome by the progress of Christian civilization is
a subject well worthy of the consideration of those who seek allegori-
cal emblems for art in association with the great Mississippi Valley.

Mississippi Day is locally celebrated on the date of the discovery
of the Great River. There is but little literature that relates to the
great event. The holiday may grow with the empire, and into it may
come the Dragon Legend.

MISSISSIPPI DAY.

O time! O change! how have these prairies altered
Since those dim, distant days

When, tranced with beauty, lonely Allouez faltered
In his uncertain ways ;

Since on these streams the dark-robed Jesuits drifted
Far from the crystal seas,

And knighted sea-kings on the blue lakes lifted
The silver fleur-de-lis !

Here prayed Marquette, by ancient tribes surrounded
In forest ways untrod,

And lonely Joliet mighty cities founded,
Where first he talked with God,

Far from the Huron’s many-foliaged village,
Far from the Iroquois,

Far from the scenes of rapine, hate, and pillage,
Beside the Illinois.
































































































































































































































































































































if r
a Aline

A | ES) q : : a

iH TT vil

es





































































































































































































































A VISION OF THE SOUTH.
MISSISSIPPI DAY. 257.

They saw the land with peace and plenty growing,
On rolled the river fair,
* And séas of flowers o’er endless shallows flowing,
And seas of odorous air.

The lonely chief upon his pine-plumed aerie
Gazed o’er the sea of blooms,

And watched the strange sail as it wandered weary
Amid the twilight glooms.

The bison, cooling in the stream before them,
Fled to the dark oak’s shade ;

The wondering eagle wheeled on slant wing o’er them;
Their sails the warm winds swayed.

Still on and on the dark priests wandered, praying
And singing hymns of praise ;

And on and on the river rolled, displaying
Its grand march to their gaze. -

Then came La Salle his water-chariot driving
Triumphal down the tide, ;

And, hard against the imprisoned currents striving,
Rode on the ocean wide.

Oh cross that marched into the sunset gleaming,
Down from the northern seas,

That nations followed wondering and dreaming, —
The silvery fleur-de-lis,

The red cross flags, the cour-de-bois, the ranger,
The knight, the chevalier,

The poor of earth, the exile freed from danger,
The lonely pioneer, —

Faith still beholds thee on the waters glowing
In twilight’s amber air,

While Marquette walks the uncertain waves, yet knowing
That God is with him there!

Unlike De Soto, Marquette is a lively character to associate with
Mississippi Day. ‘“ He was,” says an historian, “of a cheerful, joyous
disposition, playful even in manner, and universally beloved.”

The death scene of Marquette which we have described in another

17
258 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

volume is one of the most poetic incidents of early American
history. .

There is a singular correspondence in the dates of two great local
holidays, — Bunker Hill Day in the East, and Mississippi Day in the
Middle West,— both of which fall on June 17. The expedition
under Marquette found the Mississippi by the way of the Wisconsin
River. The Great River came into view at the point now called
Prairie du Chien. The scenery of the Wisconsin delighted Mar-
quette; and when the Mississippi rolled across his way on that glorious
June day, there must have come to him one of those moments of joy
that only great souls can know.

The scene of Marquette at the mouth of the Wisconsin, and that
of the finding of the two Dragons pictured on the rocks, are the ones
that linger most in the mind of the poet of history. The time will
be likely to come when a sense of the worth and meaning of these
scenes will give them place in art. But the world must see the har-
- yest before it can know the value of the worth of the sower, and em-
pires and cities must grow before they can crown their founders.

A STRANGE LEGEND OF THE FIRST DISCOVERER OF
THE MISSISSIPPI.

“THE country of gold lies before you; but there are dark rivers to cross.
I have learned these things from living among the caciques.” *

The Spaniard who uttered these words to Fernando de Soto was stately and
handsome, of middle age, and of unquestioned bravery.

“TJ am sure that I can pilot you there.”

The cavalier gazed upon him.

“You were left here in this land of Florida on the first expedition,” said
' De Soto. ‘That was ten years ago.”
“Ves.”
“ And you have come to love these children of Nature and the palm-lands?”
“Yes, Sefior. Why have you brought these bloodhounds and these

chains?”
1 Cas-seeks’.
MISSISSIPPI DAY. 259

“To hold kings captive, as I have done before; to conquer new Incas,
and to guard them in their own temples. You say that the temples of gold
are on the hills of the Ocali.”

‘‘T said that there were dark rivers to cross.”

“But what Indian girl is this that follows you?”

‘She is the daughter of a cacique and my wife.”

“You must leave her behind.”

“She saved my life. Listen! My name is Otiz, and I ama trusty soldier.
When I found myself left by the expedition, I sought the friendship of the
cacique. The old chief pitied me, and received me as
his son. I found him more humane than our own
people had been. I was happy for a time, but these
children of the palm-lands are jealous and supersti-
tious, and they at last began to distrust me and look
upon me as dangerous, and they sought to kill me. I
was brought before a council of their wise men, and
was condemned to die. The cacique pitied me still,
and sought to save me; but the wise men were all against
me...

“The day for my death was appointed. I was to
be tortured. A scaffold was built over faggots that DE SOTO.

were to be made sacrificial fires. I was to be stretched

upon this scaffold, and to perish at a firedance. __

“The day came. I was led out, and tied to the trees of the scaffold. The
fires were kindled under me, and the dance began. The painted savages
circled around me to the sound of war-drums and the blowing of shells. May
you never suffer such tortures as I then was made to feel! The tongues of
flame pierced my naked body like swords. My nerves crept in agony. I
thought of Spain, of my kindred and my old home. JI cried out for water.

“The daughter of the cacique heard my cry. She fell down before her
father, and begged him to spare my life. The cacique loved this beautiful girl.
He listened to her; he appeased the tribe, and unbound me, and gave me to
the tender princess as her slave.

“She came to love me, as I served her faithfully. I arose to honor among
the people. I love this people ;.and if I leave my wife here, I must return to her
again. I must be true to her on the honor of a conquistador.”

Fernando de Soto was a proud man. He had come from the conquest of
the incarial realms, and his own share of the captured wealth had been millions.
He had landed near Tampa, with a cavalcade of golden cavaliers. He did not
doubt that another Peru lay before him,


260 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The conquistadors under the lead of Ortiz marched up the hills of the
Ocali. The land blazed in the pure white sunlight; but no golden domes
gleamed in the sun.

They chained caciques, and hunted the chief men of the region with the
bloodhounds. They compelled captive chiefs to guide them from one tribe to
another. De Soto made slave wives of beautiful princesses, and amid all his.
cruelty and wrong-doing compelled masses to be said.

“ The hills of the Ocali are not Peru,” he said to Ortiz.

“T said that there were dark rivers to cross.”



DE SOTO’S EXPEDITION IN FLORIDA.

The conquistadors moved on. They came to dark rivers and cypress
swamps. One after another of the golden cavaliers began to sicken and die.

“‘ There are indeed dark rivers to cross,” said De Soto.

The palm lances burned in the feverish heats. But the thirst for gold led
the conquistadors on, They came at last to the banks of a majestic river.
The volume of water showed that it must be long. Masses were said. The
visions of De Soto were revived again: “ The river is dark and long.”

They crossed it, and lay down under the live-oaks streaming with moss.
The air was full of birds. There was beauty everywhere ; but in all the bright-
ness lurked poison, — the men sickened and died.
MISSISSIPPI DAY. 261

But the expedition moved on. The river that they had seen, and discov-
ered to be dark and long, was the Mississippi. In the fevered palm-shades
appeared no temples or incarial palaces.

They came at last to the dark land of cypresses through which flows the
Red River of the South. Here De Soto himself began to feel the chill that
had swept so many of the other adventurers away.

He lay down amid burning heats,
and was cold.

“Ortiz, there are still dark rivers to
cross? ” :

“Yes, cavalier; dark rivers lie in
the way to the cities of gold.”
De Soto shook.
“The fever is on






NESS SSO
oer sah yg

APs *









He lay burning
and freezing in the
cypress Swamps.
Prayers were said,
and the fiery days
moved on. The
sun rose in fire,
and set in what
looked to be the
conflagration of
the world. De Soto became oblivious to all. The fires of the fever were con-
suming him, One flaming sunrise came, and he was dead.

‘“‘He has crossed the dark river,” said Ortiz. They hollowed a log for his
body. But the savages were watching them. They could not give the conquis-
tador a burial that would be undisturbed on the land; even amid the gray-
bearded cypresses.

‘Let us sink him for his final rest in the dark river,” said Ortiz.

They did so by night. Torches gleamed; silent prayers were said. There
were low beatings of oars; a rest in the black river under the moon and stars;
a splash; the dark river opened, and a body went down. It was De Soto’s.

In a white temple in Havana, which is only opened once a year, the picture
of De Soto may be seen among the heroes of the Great Discovery. On the
14th of November — Columbus Day in Cuba —a great procession leaves the
old faded cathedral, in the wall of the altar of which Columbus’s remains are

‘DE SOTO SEEING THE MISSIS-
SIPPI FOR THE FIRST TIME.
262 ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

entombed, and amid chanting choirs, military music, and the booming of the
guns from the Castle, march to this white temple, and here glorias are chanted,
and thanksgivings said. The procession moves through the chapel, which is





BURIAL OF DE SOTO.

shaded by a tree which is supposed to be a remnant of the grove where
Columbus himself stood. They look upon the pictured faces of the conquis-
tadors on that one day; and the American, who follows the banners and music,
gazes also, and wishes ‘in his heart that some of these heroes whose bravery
rendered such services to his country had been better men. Character is
everything.


CHAPTER XV.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY.

ma) had been the intention of the class to go to

’ Tampa, and thence to Havana, cross the island
of Cuba, a ten hours’ ride (fare $16), and take the
Ward Line of steamers at Cienfuegos for Nassau.
The Ward Line of steamers from New York to
Cienfuegos wza Nassau passes close to the two
‘disputed islands of the discovery, — San Salvador
and Watling. There is little to be seen on these islands now, and
the view of them from the steamer deck reveals nearly all the remains



of historical interest.

But at St. Augustine, Florida, the plan was changed. Mr. Green
found at this old city of beautiful Spanish hotels a friend by the name
of Watson, who owned a steam yacht. Mr. Watson was a New York
merchant, of ample means and with a large heart, and a lively sense
of friendship. He became greatly interested in the plan and purpose
of the class.

“Friend Green,” said he, one morning, “don’t go to the islands
by the way of Cienfuegos: I will take you to Nassau in my yacht.
You can there take the Ward Line steamer for Santiago de Cuba and
Cienfuegos. It passes the islands of the discovery in the daytime,
and usually in calm water. From Cienfuegos you can cross by rail
to Havana, and.so end your journey at the Park of Isabella and the
Tomb of Columbus. I can accommodate your whole party, if you will
264 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI. |

submit to a little crowding. The passage will be a safe one. I have
made it before.” .
The class gladly sleds Mr. Watson’s hearty invitation.
Delightful were the days that the
class spent at St. Augustine, — the
traditional landing-place of the ro-
mantic old cavalier, Ponce de Leon.



































































































































































A BIT OF FLORIDA.

The Spanish hotels here are among the most beautiful public houses
in the world. They form as it were a Spanish town of the Middle
Ages. Here the odors of rose gardens and orange groves flood the
air, and the soft sea-winds play among the mosses of the trees. They
studied old Fort Maria, with its thrilling traditions and antiquities.
Arthur here found such stores of cuvéos for his home museum
that his collections took his last dollar. The narrow streets of St.
Augustine are full of stores that offer souvenirs to tourists. They
are in this respect the most tempting places we have ever visited.
These curios or souvenirs consist of shells, sea-mosses, historic relics,
Mexican images, grass-work, and Ave alligators.
The shells delighted Arthur. They were the most curious and
beautiful that he had ever seen. He purchased many varieties, and as


SCENES IN FLORIDA.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 267

many kinds of sea-mosses. After his money was gone, he went to
his father to ask a new and generous supply.

“ Shoo, lad,” said hearty Captain Watson ; “I'll show you, whet
we are afloat, how to get sea curiosities for nothing!”

“How would you do it?” asked Arthur, his own curiosity being
at once excited.

“ Set snares for them.”

Arthur’s wonder grew: to collect curzos was his life, and nothing
interested him so much as how to find new and rare things.

“JT will tell you. I have some lead-sinkers with hollow bottoms
on my yacht. Fill the hollows with soap, and let them down into































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE OLD GATE, ST. AUGUSTINE.

the sea in shallow water, and you can secure curiosities enough in
one voyage to the Bahamas to fill a room. Sushk for them; that is
the way to do it.”

This was joyful intelligence to Arthur. He saw the plan, and
thanked the captain. Nor was he disappointed. He /shed for
specimens in this way wherever there was shallow water, and his
268 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

discoveries in the beds of the Bahama seas were more to him than
Columbus's among the islands of the seaweeds, or Saragossa seas.

Mr. Green had prepared a literary entertainment for all the
journey. He studied the historical colorings of all the places that the



THE ARGONAUT. -
| “
class expected to visit; and his literary “lunch basket,” as he called -
one of his trunks, was stored with books, magazines,.and poems that
related to the places of the tour.
Among these stores was a very interesting and rare letter. It was
originally written in Latin, and had been issued by the Boston Public




































































































































































































































































































































































































































A LIGHTHOUSE ON THE FLORIDA COAST.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 271

Library, in one of the catalogues of the institution. It was the story
of the Discovery as related by Columbus, and was the narrative
selected for the use of the European courts. It contained some pictur-
esque accounts of the isle of Juana, and recalled in this way the
unhappy daughter of Isabella. This letter, as follows, Mr. Green read
to the class, on departing for the Bahama Seas.

FIRST VOYAGE OF COLUMBUS.

A Letter addressed to the noble Lord Raphael Sanchez, Treasurer to their invincible Majesties,
ferdinand and Isabella,’ King and Queen of Spain, by Christopher Columbus, to
whom our age is greatly indebted, treating of the islands of India recently discovered
beyond the Ganges, to explore which he had been sent eight months before under the
auspices and at the expense of their said Majesties.

KNOWING that it will afford you pleasure to learn that I have brought my
undertaking to a successful termination, I have decided upon writing you this
letter to acquaint you with all the events which have occurred in my voyage,
and the discoveries which have resulted from it, Thirty-three days after my
departure from Cadiz, I reached the Indian sea, where I discovered many
islands, thickly peopled, of which I took possession without resistance in the
name of our most illustrious Monarch, by public proclamation and with un-
furled banners. To the first of these islands, which is called by the Indians
Guanahani, I gave the name of the blessed Saviour [San Salvador], relying
upon whose protection I had reached this as well as the other islands; to each
of these I also gave a name, ordering that one should be called Santa Maria
de la Concepcion,’ another Fernandina,‘ the third Isabella,® the fourth Juana,®

? Mr. Major’s translation of the letter itself is faithful to the text of this edition. Variations,
however, exist in the title and colophon; no original, for instance, is to be found for the words
“and Isabella” in the translated title. All notes, with the exception of the present one, are
borrowed from Mr. Major.

? A strange mistake has crept into the Latin versions of this letter ; in all the editions of
which it is stated that Cadiz was the point from which Columbus sailed on his first voyage.
In the journal of that voyage published by Mr. Navarrete, as well as in the accounts given by
Don Fernando Columbus and all other historians, it is distinctly said that he sailed from Palos,
on the 3d of August. The mistake evidently consists in the word “Gadibus ” having been
by some circumstance, at which we can only guess, carelessly exchanged for Gomera, whence
Columbus started, according to the journal, on the Sth of September.

® North Caico. 4 Little Inagua. 5 Great Inagua. 8 Cuba.
272 , ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

and so with all the rest respectively. As soon as we arrived at that, which as
I have said was named Juana, I proceeded along its coast a short distance
westward, and found it to beso large and apparently without termination, that
I could not suppose it to be an island, but the continental province of Cathay.
Seeing, however, no towns or populous places on the séa-coast, but only a few
detached houses and cottages, with whose inhabitants I was unable to communi-
cate, because they fled as soon as they saw us, I went further on, thinking that
in my progress I should certainly find some city or village. At length, after
proceeding a great way and finding that nothing new presented itself, and that
the line of the coast was leading us northwards (which I wished to avoid,
because it was winter, and it was my intention to move southward; and because
moreover the winds were contrary), I resolved not to attempt any further
progress, but rather to turn back and retrace my course to a certain bay that
T had observed, and from
which I afterwards dis-
patched two of our men
to ascertain whether there
were a king or any cities
in that province. These
men reconnoitred the
country for three days,
and found a most numer-
ous population, and great
numbers of houses, though
small, and built without
any regard to order; with
which information they
returned to us. In the
mean time I had learned
from some Indians whom
I had seizéd; that that
country was certainly an
island; and therefore I
sailed towards the east,
coasting to the distance
of three hundred and
twenty-two miles, which
brought us to the ex-
tremity of it; from this point I saw lying eastwards another island, fifty-four


AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 273

miles distant from Juana, to which I gave the name of Espanola:! I went
thither, and steered my course eastward as I had done at Juana, even to the
distance of five hundred and sixty-four miles along the north coast. This said
island of Juana is exceeding fertile, as indeed are all the others; itis surrounded
with many bays, spacious, very secure, and surpassing any that I have ever
seen; numerous large and beautiful rivers intersect it, and it also contains
many very lofty mountains. All these islands are very beautiful, and distin-
guished by a diversity of scenery; they are filled with a great variety of trees
of immense height, and which I believe to retain their foliage in all seasons;
for when I saw them they were as verdant and luxuriant as they usually are
in Spain in the month of May, —some of them were blossoming, some bearing
fruit, and all flourishing in the greatest perfection, according to their respective
stages of growth, and the nature and quality of each; yet the islands are not
so thickly wooded as to be impassable. The nightingale and various birds
were singing in countless numbers, and that in November, the month in which
I arrived there. There are besides in the same island of Juana seven or eight
kinds of palm-trees, which, like all the other trees, herbs, and fruits, considera-
bly surpass ours in height and beauty. The pines also are very handsome,
and there are very extensive fields and meadows, a variety of birds, different
kinds of honey, and many sorts of metals, but no iron. In that island also
which I have before. said we named Espanola, there are mountains of very
great size and beauty, vast plains, groves and very fruitful fields, admirably
adapted for tillage, pasture, and habitation. The convenience and excellence
of the harbors in this island, and the abundance of the rivers, so indispensable
to the health of man, surpass anything that would be believed by one who had
not seen it. The trees, herbage, and fruits of Espanola are very different from
those of Juana, and moreover it abounds in various kinds of spices, gold, and
other metals. The inhabitants of both sexes in this island and in all the others
which I have seen, or of which I have received information, go always naked
as they were born, with the exception of some of the women, who use the
covering of a leaf, or small bough, or an apron of cotton which they prepare
for that purpose. None of them, as I have already said, are possessed of any
iron, neither have they weapons, being unacquainted with, and indeed incom-
petent to use them, not from any deformity of body (for they are well formed),
but because they are timid and full of fear. They carry however in lieu of
arms canes dried in the sun, on the ends of which they fix heads of dried
wood sharpened to a point, and even these they dare not use habitually; for

1 Hispaniola, or San Domingo.
18
274 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

it has often occurred when I have sent two or three of my men to any of the
' villages to speak with the natives, that they have come out in a disorderly
troop, and have fled in such haste at the approach of our men, that the fathers .
forsook their children and the children their fathers. This timidity did not
arise from any loss or injury that they had received from us; for, on the
contrary, I gave to all 1 approached whatever articles I had with me, such as
cloth and many other things, taking nothing of theirs in return: but they are
naturally timid and fearful. As soon however as they see that they are safe,
and have laid aside all fear, they are very simple and honest, and exceedingly
liberal with all they have; none of them refusing anything they may possess
when he is asked for it, but on the contrary inviting us to ask them. They
exhibit great love towards all others in preference to themselves: they also
give objects of great yalue for trifles, and content themselves with very little
or nothing in return. I however forbad that these trifles and articles of no
value (such as pieces of dishes, plates, and glass, keys, and leather straps)
should be given to them, although if they could obtain them, they imagined
themselves to be possessed of the most beautiful trinkets in the world. It
even happened that a sailor received for a leather strap as much gold as was
worth three golden nobles, and for things of more trifling value offered by our
men, especially newly coined blancas, or any gold coins, the Indians would
give whatever the seller required; as, for instance, an ounce and a half or two
ounces of gold, or thirty or forty pounds of cotton, with which commodity
they were already acquainted. Thus they bartered, like idiots, cotton and
gold for fragments of bows, glasses, bottles, and jars; which I forbad as being
unjust, and myself gave them many beautiful and acceptable articles which 1
had brought with me, taking nothing from them in return, I did this in order
that I might more easily conciliate them, that they might be led to become
Christians, and be inclined to entertain a regard for the King and Queen, our
Princes and all Spaniards, and that I might induce them to take an interest
in seeking out and collecting, and delivering to us such things as they possessed
in abundance, but which we greatly needed. They practise no kind of idola-
try, and have a firm belief that all strength and power, and indeed all good
things, are in heaven, and that I had descended from thence with these ships
and sailors; and under this impression was I received after they had thrown
aside their fears. Nor are they slow or stupid, but of very clear understanding ;
and those men who have crossed to the neighbouring islands give an admirable
description of everything they observed; but they never saw any people
clothed, nor any ships like ours. On my arrival at that sea, I had taken some
Indians by force from the first island that I came to, in order that they might










































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A GLIMPSE OF FLORIDA.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 277

learn our language, and communicate to us what they knew respecting the
country; which plan succeeded excellently, and was a great advantage to us,
for in a short time, either by gestures and signs or by words, we were enabled
to understand each other. These men are still travelling with me, and although
they have been with us a long time, they continue to entertain the idea that I
have descended from heaven; and on our arrival at any new place they pub-
lished this, crying out immediately with a loud voice to the other Indians,
“Come, come and look upon beings of a celestial race:” upon which both
men and women, children and adults, young men and old, when they got rid of
the fear they at first entertained, would come out in throngs, crowding the roads
to see us, some bringing food, others drink, with astonishing affection and
kindness. Each of these islands has a great number of canoes, built of solid
wood, narrow and not unlike our double-banked boats in length and shape,
but swifter in their motion; they steer them only by the oar. These canoes
are of various sizes, but the greater number are constructed with eighteen
banks of oars, and with these they cross to the other islands, which are of
countless number, to carry on traffic with the people. I saw some of these
canoes that held as many as seventy-eight rowers. In all these islands there
is no difference of physiognomy, of manners, or of language, but they all
clearly understand each other, a circumstance very propitious for the realiza-
tion of what I conceive to be the principal wish of our most serene King,
namely, the conversion of these people to the holy faith of Christ, to which,
indeed, as far as I can judge, they are very favourable and well-disposed. I
said before, that I went three hundred and twenty-two miles in a direct line
from west to east, along the coast of the island of Juana; judging by which
voyage, and the length of the passage, I can assert that it is larger than Eng-
land and Scotland united; for independent of the said three hundred and

twenty-two miles, there are in the western part of the island two provinces ,
which I did not visit; one of these is called by the Indians Anam, and its
inhabitants are born with tails. These provinces extend to a hundred and
fifty-three miles in length, as I have learnt from the Indians whom I have
brought with me, and who are well acquainted with the country. But the
extent of Espanola is greater than all Spain from Catalonia to Fontarabia,
which is easily proved, because one of its four sides which I myself coasted in
a direct line, from west to east, measures five hundred and forty miles. This
island is to be regarded with especial interest, and not to be slighted; for
although as I have said I took possession of all these islands in the name of
our invincible King, and the government of them is unreservedly committed
to his said Majesty, yet there was one large town in Espanola of which espe-
278 . ZIGZAG JOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

cially I took possession, situated in a remarkably favourable spot, and in every
way convenient for the purposes of gain and commerce. To this town I gave
the name of Nabidad del Senor, and ordered a fortress to be built there, which
must by this time be completed, in which I left as many men as I thought
necessary, with all serts of arms, and enough provisions for more than a year.
T also left them one carabel, and skilful workmen both in ship-building and
other arts, and engaged the favour and friendship of the island in their behalf,
to a degree that would not be believed, for these people are so amiable and
friendly that even the King took a pride in calling me his brother. But sup-
posing their feelings should become changed, and they should wish to injure
those who have remained in the fortress, they could not do so, for they have
no arms, they go naked, and are moreover too cowardly; so that those who
hold the said fortress, can easily keep the whole island in check, without any
pressing danger to themselves, provided they do not transgress the directions
and regulations which I have given them. As far as I have learned, every
man throughout these islands is united to but one wife, with the exception of
the kings and princes, who are allowed to have twenty: the women seem to
work more than the men. I could not clearly understand whether the people
possess any private property, for I observed that one man had the charge of
distributing various things to the rest, but especially meat and provisions and
the like. I did not find, as some of us had expected, any cannibals amongst
them, but on the contrary men of great deference and kindness. Neither are
they black, like the Ethiopians: their hair is smooth and straight: for they
do not dwell where the rays of the sun strike most vividly, — and the sun has
intense power there, the distance from the equinoctial line being, it appears,
but six and twenty degrees. On the tops of the mountains the cold is very
great, but the effect of this upon the Indians is lessened by their being accus-
tomed to -the climate, and by their frequently indulging in the use of very hot
‘meats and drinks. Thus, as I have already said, I saw. no cannibals, nor did
I hear of any, except in a certain island called Charis,’ which is the second
from Espanola on the side towards India, where dwell a people who are con-
sidered. by the neighbouring islanders as most ferocious: and these feed upon
human flesh. The same people have many kinds of canoes, in which they
cross to all the surrounding islands and rob and plunder wherever they can;
they are not different from the other islanders, except that they wear their
hair long, like women, and make use of the bows and javelins of cane, with
sharpened spear-points fixed on the thickest end, which I have before described,

1 Query, Carib, the Indian name of Porto Rico.


































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































FLORIDA, THE HOME OF THE HERON.

/ :
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE’ GREAT DISCOVERY. 281

and therefore they are looked upon as ferocious and regarded by the other
Indians with unbounded fear; but I think no more of them than of the rest.
These are the men who form unions with certain women, who dwell alone in
the island Matenin,’ which lies next to-Espanola on the side towards India ;
these latter employ themselves in no labour suitable to their own sex, for they
use bows and javelins as I have already described their paramours as doing,
and for defensive armour have plates of brass, of which metal they possess
great abundance. They assure me that there is another island larger than
Espanola, whose inhabitants have no hair, and which abounds in gold. more
than any of the rest. I bring with me individuals of this island and of the
others that I have seen, who are proofs of the facts which I state. Finally,
to compress into few words the entire summary of my voyage and speedy
return, and of the advantages derivable therefrom, I promise, that with a little
assistance afforded me by our most invincible sovereigns, I will procure them
as much gold as they need, as great a quantity of spices, of cotton, and of mastic ;
(which is only found in Chios), and as many men for the service of the navy as
their Majesties may require. I promise also rhubarb and other sorts of drugs,
which I am persuaded the men whom I have left in the aforesaid fortress have
found already and will continue to find; for I myself have tarried nowhere
longer than I was compelled to do by the winds, except in the city of Nabidad,
where I provided for the building of the fortress, and took’ the necessary
precautions for the security of the men I left there. Although all I. have
related may appear to be wonderful and unheard of, yet the results of my
voyage would have been more astonishing if I had at my disposal such ships as
I required. But these great and marvellous results’are not to be attributed to
any merit of mine, but to the holy Christian faith, and to the piety and religion
of our Sovereigns; for that which the unaided intellect of man could not compass,
the spirit of God has granted to human. exertions, for God is wont to hear the
prayers of his servants who love his precepts even to the performance of
apparent impossibilities. Thus it has happened to me in the present instance,
who have accomplished a task to which the powers of mortal men had never
hitherto attained; for if there have been those who have anywhere written or
spoken of these islands, they have done so with doubts and conjectures, and.
no one has ever asserted that he has seen them, on which account their writings
have been looked upon as little else than fables. Therefore let the king and
queen, our princes and our most happy kingdoms, and all the other provinces
of Christendom, render thanks to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who

1 One of the Virgin Islands — which, is uncertain.
282 — ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

‘has granted us so great a victory and such prosperity. Let processions
be made, and sacred feasts be held, and the temples be adorned with festive
boughs. Let Christ rejoice on earth, as he rejoices in heaven at the prospect
of the salvation of the souls of so many nations hitherto lost. Let us also
rejoice, as well on account of the exaltation of our faith, as on account of the
increase of our temporal prosperity, of which not only Spain, but all Christen-
dom will be partakers.
- Such are the events which I have briefly described. Farewell.

LisBon, the 14th of March.
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS,

Admiral of the Fleet of the Ocean.

A CURIOUS SPANISH LEGEND OF THE DISCOVERY.

Tuerrexs in Spain a very picturesque legend of an event that led
to the Great Discovery, which if of less educational value than the
story of the egg, is worth repeating here.

After Columbus had spent some seven years in endeavors to
secure the patronage of the Court of Spain, he resolved to leave that
country, and to lay his plans before Charles VIII. of France. He
accordingly called on Ferdinand and Isabella, to announce his purpose
and to take a formal leave of the Court. The legend says that this
took place at Cordova, though there would seem to be some historical
difficulty with this statement.

Columbus found the King at a game of chess with his grandees.
The game had become very absorbing, and the heart of the King
seemed to have entered into it.

Columbus obtained an audience with Queen Isabella. Her heart
was already committed to the great expedition, and when. he
announced to her his purpose of going to France, she at once
sought the King, and found him absorbed at the chess-board.

She forced the matter on his attention.

“Do not interrupt me,” he said. “Confound these visionary
mariners, and of all of them confound this Italian Columbus!”
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 283

‘She stood silent; the game grew worse for the King, and he
.became much excited. On the point of what seemed utter failure, he
turned to Isabella, and said, —

“If I win the game, you may have the ships for your adventure.”

The Queen’s mind had been intent on the chess-board, and the



RELICS OF COLUMBUS.

game went on. The Queen became as excited as the King. At last
she leaned over his shoulder and said, —

“You can checkmate him in four more moves.”

She was right. The King won the game triumphantly, and turn-
ing to Isabella said, —
284 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“Columbus may go; I will commission him as Admiral of the
Elect.”

We give this story as a legend merely. It would make a pretty
tableau.

The voyage to Nassau on the yacht was a delight. The sky was
serene, the sea blue, and the winds were merciful. The class read and









































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































NASSAU HARBOR.

related stories, or listened to the tales of Captain Watson; and Arthur
Gshed with his lead and soap, and in deep water prepared his
specimens.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 285

His delight in this voyage was made perfect when a fish came
flying on board.

He secured some beautiful specimens of the chambered nautilus
at several points of the voyage. In the clear green waters off the
Bahamas the ocean seemed to offer him everything that his imagina-
‘tion could picture or his heart could wish.

The class rested for several days at Nassau, and there waited th
steamer from New York.

Arthur visited the sea gardens at Nassau. The emerald waters
here are a world of life as clear as the air and as beautiful as the sky.
He obtained a large collection of corals and shells and sponges in
these towns of the turtles. He also purchased a tarantula in a bottle
_at the hotel. :

Mr. Green pursued his literary and historical studies at Nassau as
studiously as Arthur sought after curious specimens of life in the sea.

One day Arthur said to him: “ We are told that Columbus caused
a hymn to be sung on the ships on every night of the outward voyage.
What was that hymn?” .

“T have asked that question myself,” said Mr. Green. “ Accord-
ing to the ancient authorities, it was the ‘ Salve, Regina,’ a Latin hymn
of great strength and beauty. But the popular tradition says that it
was ‘Gentle Star of Ocean.’ The ‘Salve, Regina’ is a composition that
is rare, but the hymn called ‘Gentle Star of Ocean’ may be found in
many Catholic collections of hymns. The general thought and prayer
of each is the same, though the form is different, and one may have
_ grown out of the other. Mrs.-Hemans’s ‘ Italian Girl’s Hymn to the
Virgin’ bears a marked resemblance to ‘Gentle Star of Ocean.’

“Read to me the hymn called ‘ Gentle Star of Ocean,’ ” said
Arthur, “as that is the traditional Columbus Hymn.” |
Mr. Green read the common version.
286 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

AVE MARIS STELLA. (By

GENTLE Star of Ocean!
Portal of the sky!

Ever Virgin Mother
Of the Lord most high !

Oh! by Gabriel’s Ave,
Utter'd long ago,

Eva’s name reversing,
’Stablish peace below.

Break the captive’s fetters,
Light on blindness pour,

All our ills expelling,
Every bliss implore.

Show thyself a Mother,
Offer him our sighs,

Who for us Incarnate
Did not thee despise.

Virgin of all virgins !

To thy shelter take us ;
Gentlest of the gentle,

Chaste and gentle make us.

Still as on we journey,
Help our weak endeavor ;

Till with thee and Jesus
We rejoice forever.

Through the highest heaven,
To the Almighty Three,

Father, Son, and Spirit, .
One same glory be.

Another question asked by Arthur received an interesting answer
from his father.
“ Why was not America called Columbia ?.”

fa The evening hymn of the crews of Columbus, sung on every night during the outward voyage, was
the “ Ave Maris Stella.” ;








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































\
hg























HOUSE OF A CUBAN PLANTER.
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 289

“The continent of America seems to have been discovered by
Americus Vespucius, or Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian explorer, at
Para, or near the island of Trinidad. . This bold mariner explored the
coast of Brazil, and on his return published a chart that greatly inter-
ested geographers. One of these geographers applied the name
‘Americi Terra, or the land of Americus, or Amerigo, to the dis-
covered continent, and other writers employed this same name. So
the New World became known in Europe as the land of Amerigo, or
America. Vespucci was a friend of Columbus, and had no purpose to
deprive hini of the honors due to his achievements. The name was
the result of accidental usage. Had the geographer put upon his
map or chart ‘ The Land of Columbus,’ we would have now been the
inhabitants of Columbia.”

The hotel at Nassau is beautifully situated, and the hours spent
here seemed to the class as almost beyond the usual horizons of life.
The sky, the sea, the sea gardens, — everything had an air of bright
serenity about them. Most of the members of the class read and
studied, as a preparation to passing the Islands and visiting the Tomb
at Havana.

Mrs. Green related here some beautiful stories of scenes at the
Court of Isabella. Mr. Diaz endeavored to picture in verse the scene
at Palos on the return of Columbus. He read the description to the
class; and we hope it was historic, for it aimed to make picturesque a
very thrilling event: —

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING.

In Granada bells were ringing,
In Granada altars burned,
Heralds swept on palfreys gleaming,
Shouting: “ Praise the Lord forever,
Colon, Colon has returned!”
Open stood the church of Palos,
Struck the bells, now loud, now low;
Landward, off the Gaudiana,
Higher rose the star-crowned banner,

19
290 ZIGZAG FOURNEYVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Neared the acclaiming port of Palos,
Neared the weeping port of Palos,
Ancient Palos,
Long ago.

Higher rose the sea-wet banner

While the far hills smoked and burned,
And the couriers, trumpets blowing,
Shouted : “ Praise to Isabella;

Colon, Colon has returned!”
Shone the smoke-red sun on Palos,
In the seas of clouds aglow ;
And the flag of crowns grew clearer,
As the caravel drew nearer
The acclaiming port of Palos,
The rejoicing port of Palos,

- Ancient Palos,
Long ago.

Lands the viceroy, throngs: acclaiming,
Walks the time-worn streets again,
Hears the gray cathedral’s towers,
Answers: “ Praise the Lord forever,
Hither, mariners of Spain!”
To the church with open portals,
Glad bells ringing, blow on blow,
Andalusian banners under,
Leads he, ’mid the eyes of wonder,
All his faithful men through Palos,
All his sun-browned crew through Palos,
Ancient Palos,
Long ago.

Hark, — what music fills the temple !

Stops his feet beside the door?
“ Hush !— they sing the hymn of Mary. —
Listen, sailors of Hispania,

Praise the Lord forevermore !”
Far within the church they heard it,
‘The Magnificat sung low ;
Heard: “ The humble He upraiseth,”
Heard: “ His holpen servant praiseth,” —
As uprose the hymn of Mary,
Far within the church of Palos,

Ancient Palos,
Long ago.












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































e

BAHAMA

E

ISLANDS OF TH
AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 293

Groinéd aisle and mullioned window,
Choir escutcheoned, golden cross,
Met his eye as there he listened ;
Tonsured monks from old Cordova,
Palmers gray from Badajos,
Singers sweet from sweet Sevilla,
’Neath the altar lamp aglow,
*Mid the odorous oil ascending,
Like the fiery cloud attending
Israel’s march of trump and censer,
O’er the great sea of the Desert, —
So he listened,
Long ago.

On the cool quays of Genoa,

Once that anthem he had heard.
As the night stars gleamed above him,
And the palaced air around him

Seemed by mystic angels stirred, »
Was the earth a star, like Hesper,
In the halls of space aglow ? —
While those prisoned monks were chanting
What strange prophecies came haunting
His young soul in old Genoa,
On the cool quays of Genoa,

White Genoa,
Long ago?

Now — how grand the monks were singing

That same hymn of hope again ! —
“ Ho, — advance, lead on the banner
Of the crown of Isabella ;

Forward, mariners of Spain!”
And the viceroy at the altar,
Kneeling by his captives low,

Bowed to praise the Lord of heaven,
For the world that he had given
To the sceptre of Fernando,
To the crowns of Isabella,
To the cross of Christ forever !
So arose the First Thanksgiving,
For the New World,
Long ago !
294 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

The captain interested Arthur greatly by telling him of the capture
by. a French steamer of a large Cuttle-fish, or Devil Fish as it is often
called.

These monsters, full-grown, are so seldom seen that ‘everything
relating to them inspires one with a deep feeling of awe.

Arthur had found tanks of little alligators in several stores in
St. Augustine. These little alligators were offered for sale, and by pay-
ing one dollar and expressage, one of them would be forwarded to the
North to any address. He had expressed two of these to young
friends of his in Massachusetts as a surprise.

He talked of this curious matter often, and once in the presence of
Captain Watson. The Captain was interested in the novel surprise,
and related the following story: —

A PRESENT OF AN ALLIGATOR

THERE were so many curiosities in St. Augustine and the rest of Florida
that Dr. James Munro, amateur. naturalist, conchologist, and entomologist, had
found the days all too short for his delightful work.

The trip undertaken for his health, exhausted as he was by his professional
labors, not only accomplished the desired end, but gave him an opportunity of
riding his scientific hobby to his heart’s content.

He was an excellent and successful physician; but I doubt if his most
extraordinary cases awakened the keen interest which the discovery of a new
specimen gave him. And there was his friend, Professor Virchow, of the
Lincoln Institute, so grateful to him for the rare insects, and shells, and skeletons
of extinct animals he had sent him.

In fact, in the pamphlet on which the professor was engaged, he had spoken
with warm gratitude of Dr. Munro as a scientific laborer whose researches had
been invaluable to him. Grateful to the doctor was this incense, and it spurred
him to fresh efforts.

He spent the'winter in Florida, and spring found him turning his face
homeward. He was strolling through Jacksonville when he was accosted by a
dealer in many of the specimens which went to enrich the Lincoln Institute.

1 This story was suggested by the author to Mrs. Murie B. Williams, who wrote it. It
originally appeared in the ‘‘ Household.” ,


















CAPTURING A CUTTLE-FISH.



AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 297

“ Flalloo, doctor,” he cried; “I’ve got something at my place you've been
wanting for ever so long.

‘““What’s that, Collins?”

“ Come along and see.”

Collins took him to a large tank back of his warehouse. A large alligator,
with a young one frisking about on the water, greeted the doctor’s delighted
eyes.

“ There’s your. baby alligator, doc’, that you ’ve been honing for ever since
you came-to Florida. It’s a frisky little creature, ain’t it? and it’ll make the
nicest kind of a pet for a year or two. If you don’t want him, there’s been
three fellows from Boston who do ; but I promised you the first ’gator that come
to hand, and here he is.”

“ Of course I want him; ” and the doctor gazed ecstatically at the playful
young saurian. “Are you sure, Collins, you can box him up so that he’ll
reach New York alive and safe?”

“Alive and safe!” exclaimed Collins, laughing. “Why, doctor, I’ve
shipped hundreds of alligators, big and little, to the North, and I’ve never
heard that one of them died on the way. But look here; let’s strike a bargain.
I’m expecting three or four big fellows, and I’ll be glad to get the mother
"gator out of the way. They’re ugly customers when they have young ones,
and I’m afraid she’ll fight the strangers. Come now, take the mother ’gator,
and I’ll let you have them both at a bargain.”

_ The doctor pondered a moment. What a boon the alligators would be
to his friend Virchow, who was now engaged in writing up the habits of
saurians ! .

“Well, I’ll take her, Collins,” the doctor said at last, “if you guarantee
she Il arrive in good condition.”

What will a Florida dealer not guarantee, when he is making a trade with a
Northern traveller crazy for the curious productions of that strange land?-
The trade was soon made, for the doctor was in a hurry.

d

“T’ll have them ready for shipment this evening,” Collins said. ‘ Halloo,
doctor, you ’re going without giving me the address.”
“ll be back in a couple of hours,” the doctor called out. “I start home

to-morrow myself, and I’ve got to have a box of fruit packed and shipped to
my family. I’ll* get home in time to receive my alligator when it reaches
New York.”

“ Don’t forget to come back,” Collins called after him anxiously. He knew
too well that the doctor was one of the most absent-minded of men, and would
298 . ZIGZAG FOURNEVS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

forget his own head if it could be detached from his shoulders. It was there-
fore a great relief to him, when, about noon, the doctor’s bald head was popped
into his office.

“I’m in the greatest possible hurry, Collins,” he panted, “for I’m off in a
couple of hours. -There’s the address,” pitching a card on the desk. “ Good-
by,; see you next winter, if I live.”

Dr. Munro's handsome house on Dash Street, New ‘York, was one morning
a scene of delightful anticipation. A telegram had been received from him —
“Will be at home by noon train. Was detained a day.at St. Augustine.
Shipped large box of fruit.” :

And the box of fruit had just been received, — a tremendous box, which
took several men to drag into the basement, for it could not be carried up the
staircase. And in the basement the family assembled, waiting for John, the
carriage-driver, who had gone for an axe.

“Oh, there’s barrels upon barrels of fruit in there!” cried ten-year-old
’ Mamie, clapping her hands, and dancing round the box. “Charlie, what did
they bore all these holes in the box for?”

“To keep the fruit from spoiling, goosey,” answered ‘Charlie, who was.
seventeen, and given to lording it over his sisters.

“T dare say there ’s mangoes and sapodillos and guavas in there,” said Ella,
a rather sentimental young miss. ‘“ Papa said he would send us specimens of
every species of Florida fruit. What a delicious fruity odor!” snuffing the air.
“T can close my eyes, and fancy myself under intense blue skies, and reclining
amidst the beautiful orange- groves of that lovely land.”

“Mighty musky groves,” Charlie answered. “Smells as if a catfish was
somewhere round. Well, John, you ’ve been long enough after that hatchet.
Get to opening it, will you? And Norah, you help him to prize off the
lid.”

“ Now, look here, children,” cried Mrs. Munro, —a fat, comely dame, who
bustled in, — “ don’t snatch the fruit when the box is opened. There’s enough
and to spare for all. It’s just like your father to go and send a great box of
fruit that will spoil on our hands.”

‘“And I’m thinkin’ it’s spi’led already, ma’am,” Norah cad. pulling at the
lid. “It smells like— Och, blessed saints!” and with a loud screech she fell
backwards as the lid came off, and a black monster, lifting his frightful snout in
the air for a second, lurched heavily over the side of the box.

Screaming in every variety of key, the Munro family fled to the only door
which would give them egress.
















A GIANT



AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 301

But between poor Norah and the door the hideous monster lay. There
was a small window which opened on the sidewalk, the grating of which had
been removed that morning for some repairs. Scrambling up with difficulty,
Norah tried to push herself through. But the window was small, and Norah
was stout, and she stuck.

“Help, help!” she shouted. “ Och, Mister Murphy,” as a policeman ran
to see what caused the uproar, “ pull me out, darlint; fur the fiery dragon is
afther me. Och, he’s ate up all av’em, pore crathurs! Pull me hard.” And
Mister Murphy pulled with such vim that he not only dislodged her, but
brought her full weight upon him, and together they sprawled on the ground.

‘He was up in a minute and peering through the window.

“Tt’s a big alligator, be jabers!” he exclaimed. ‘I’ve seed ’em in Florida.
Keep back! ’’—to the crowd who were pushing and fighting their way to the
window. “He’ll get afther ye in a hurry.”

““What is all this?” and Dr. Munro, valise in hand, stood in the midst of
them. ‘ What are you crowding about my premises for?”

“Oh, doctor, darlint!” Norah shouted to the astonished man, “the dragon
has swallowed the misthress up. I heard her screech; and the poor childer—
all gone; all eatup. Oh, Holy Peter, comfort him!”

Dr. Munro rushed to the window and looked through.

“ How did the alligators get there?” he cried; and then into his dazed mind
a solution of the mystery crept. In his hurry he had given Collins the wrong
card.

“Are any of them hurt?” he groaned, as he sprang up the steps. His first
glance at his demoralized household did not reassure him. His wife lay
panting on the lounge. Ella was tapping her heels on the floor, and laughing
and crying hysterically. Charlie, as white as a sheet, was going from one to
the other with smelling-salts. Only little Mamie seemed to be herself.

‘Oh, papa,” she cried, catching sight of her father, “we thought the box
had fruit, but it didn’t. A great, horrid black thing come out, and we all run.”

“You ’ve done my nerves a terrible injury, James,” said his wife, reproach- ©
fully, “with your vile reptiles and things. What did you mean by sending
them here?”

The doctor tried to explain, and Ella ceased her tattoo on the floor to listen,
Suddenly there was a loud pistol-shot.

“Mercy!” cried Mrs. Munro, clutching her husband wildly; “is that the
alligator? ”

‘It’s the policeman shooting the alligator, I presume,” he answered grimly.
302 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“T saw him fixing his pict but Norah gave me such a fright I didn ’t stop to
see about it. Well, Virchow will have to do without it, alee he chooses to
stuff the skin. I hope the idiot has n’t shot the young one;’ * and he hurried
down to see about his pet.

It was months before the nerves of the family recovered their tone.

“JT’m all in a trimble,’? Norah would say at every new smash of crockery
from her awkward hands. “I drame about the monster, and when the rale box
av fruit did came from the institute, I couldn’t eat one. On my word, they
choked me.”




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































KINGSTON HARBOR, JAMAICA.

CHAPTER XVI.
AT THE TOMB OF COLUMBUS.

HE Bahama Sea, or the sea of the Lesser Antilles, is
beautiful in midwinter and early spring. The days
here are living splendors, and at night the Southern
Cross, like the jewelled hand of heaven, is lifted over
the glimmering waves. The serenity of night among
these islands is impressive. There is a spirit of
beauty everywhere. One feels its presence as it were a guardian



wing.

The steamer passed full in view of San Salvador, —the old tradi-
tional island of the Great Discovery. This island is about forty-three
miles long and three miles broad, and rises to the height of some four
hundred feet. It does look to-day like the landfall described by
Columbus.

The true island of the discovery would seem to be Watling.
This is thirteen miles long, and rises to a height of some one hundred
and forty feet. Neither island has any considerable population.
Each seems to form a part of a broken body of land, and stands far
out at sea. Each is as white as snow.

The situation of these two islands in the sea is beautiful; but
neither is so especially interesting as to answer to the Paradise pic-
tured by’ the discoverers. One must see them with historic eyes for
sentiment, and even then one looks in vain for any worthy monument

of the great event that is associated with them.
. 20 :
306 ZIGZAG FOURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

On to the beautiful harbor of Santiago, and then to Cienfuegos.
A day from the latter port found the class in Pravane, in the Hotel
Pasaje.

The first walk that the class took was to the statue of Isabella.
An incident occurred here that interested Arthur.

‘A, -fine statue,” said an English tourist to him, with a curious
look in his benevolent face. “ But I think that there was another
woman that deserves a monument more than the
Queen.”

“Do you?” asked Arthur, in surprise. “Who
was it?”

“Mrs. Columbus.” The portly old gentleman
~ looked inquiringly and comically at Arthur.

“T never heard of er,” said Arthur. “Who
was she?” ey

“She died young, but it was she who interested
him in the expedition. Boy, get a good wife, —
that’s what does it.”

The fine old gentleman moved slowly away,
leaving Arthur puzzled. That evening, at the
Pasaje, he learned from his mother for the first
time the touching story of the wife of Columbus,
éouancnaeeans? Who brought the great mariner maps and charts,

and interested him in lands that sailors had seen



in the great ocean world.

Arthur from his first landing at a Cuban port had been quick to
catch Spanish words and phrases. He had in moments of rest studied
the Spanish phrase-book in all the journey from Chicago. Of all the
members, of the party, except Mr. Green, teacher, and Mr. Diaz, he
best understood the Spanish-speaking servants at the hotel.

At a breakfast in the café, the party were surprised to hear Arthur
say to a waiter who had asked him what he would have, —


































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Picea tao



































HAVANA.

AT THE TOMB OF COLUMBUS. 309

“Huevos?” (Eggs?) -
« Si, Sefior,” was the answer.
“ Huevos con jamon?” (Eggs and ham ?)



STATUE OF COLUMBUS.

“Si, Sefior.” The waiter added, —

“ Huevos rellenos?” (Stuffed eggs ?)

This last answer puzzled Arthur. Stuffed eggs was a dish un-
known to him. He asked, —
310 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“ Pescado frito?” (Fried fish ?)

« Si, Sefior.”

« Papas fritos?” (Fried potatves ?)

« Si, Sefior.”

« P]Antanos?’’ (Bananas ?)

Arthur was puzzled again, and still more so, when the waiter
asked, —

“ Fritos?” (Fried ? )

“No,” said Arthur.

« Asados?” (Roasted ? )

Bananas fried cr roasted! Arthur had never heard of such a dish
before. .

Arthur finally ordered “pollo asado” (roast chicken) and “ bunia-
tos” (sweet potatoes) and “ café.” a5

These were quickly brought. The young ladies looked on with
wonder, and each of them said, “ Arthur, you may order for me!”

Early in the morning after their arrival at Havana, the party went
to the old Cathedral, where the remains of Columbus are supposed to
be. It is now claimed that a wrong body was brought here, and that
the bones of Columbus still lie in the Cathedral of Santo Domingo.
Be this as it may, the Cathedral of Havana is traditionally the tomb
of the prophet pilot, and is justly regarded as one of the most sacred
places of the world on account of that noble association.

The old Cathedral stands facing an open square at the corner of
Empedrado and San Ygnacio Streets, at the northeastern part of the
_ city. . It is constructed of a mellow-colored brown stone, and its two
quaint towers each holding aloft a slender cross, its fagade of pillars,
niches, mouldings, give it a historic and venerable appearance. It
was erected in 1724.

The church is shown to visitors at all hours of the day. It is well
to visit it at the morning mass, when the white light falls upon the
devotees and first illumines the beautiful shrines and chapels.






































































Ac

SS

mT



A CUBAN BEAUTY.

AT THE TOMB OF. COLUMBUS. 313

The remains of Columbus are in a simple but heroic tomb near
the altar. Columbus died at Valladolid, Spain, on Ascension Day,
May 20, 1506. His funeral was conducted with great pomp. His
remains were removed to Seville in 1513, and his tomb was honored
by the following inscription, by order of Ferdinand and the Court: —

‘A CASTILE vy‘ LEON

NvEvo Munpo pio Co.own.’’!

He was mariner even after death. In 1536 his body and that of
his son were removed to Santo Domingo, to rest in the New World
that his inspiration had found. |

In 1796 his remains were embarked for Havana.

_ It was a grand holiday when they arrived in port. A writer says,
“ Havana wept for joy.” They were deposited in an urn in the cathe-
dral, and a monumental bust placed before them. The appearance
of the tomb may be imagined from the herewith illustration.

COLUMBUS.

“God made me the messenger of the new heavens and new earth, and told me where to find them.
Reason, charts, and mathematical knowledge had nothing to do with the case.’—CoLUMBUS.

Here, ’mid these paradises of the seas,

The roof: beneath of this cathedral old,
That lifts its suppliant arms above the trees,

Each clasping in its hand a cross of gold,

- Columbus, sleeps, — his crumbling tomb behold !
By faith his soul rose eagle-winged and free,

And reached that Power whose wisdom never fails,
Walked ’mid the kindred stars, and reverently

The light earth weighed in God’s own golden scales.
A man of passions, like to meri’s, was he.

He overcame them, and with hope and trust
Made strong his soul for highest destiny,
And, following Christ, he walked upon the sea:

The waves upheld him, — what is here is dust.

1 To Castile and Leon Columbus gave a new world.
314 ZIGZAG FÂ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“We shall be better able to appreciate the World’s Fair after this
journey,” said Mr. Green, as the party went out of the Cathedral into
the bright sun. “Iam glad that we have made it.”

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TOMB OF COLUMBUS AT HAVANA,



“ Mil gracias, Senor,” said Arthur.

The class wandered back through white streets, and rested at noon
under the palms near the Statue of Isabella.

Here amid bright sea airs, and breathing palms, Arthur asked:
AT THE TOMB OF COLUMBUS. 315

“Father, what were Columbus’s own views of the powers that led
him to make the great discovery? Did he think that he was a bold
man, a great genius, or an inspired prophet?”

“ Columbus,” said Mr. Green, “once wrote to a family servant: ‘1
serve the same God that exalted David.’

“ Again in his ‘ Profecias,’ he says, ‘The Lord endowed me nobly
with knowledge of everything relating to the sea.’

“ And again, in a letter to the Castilian sovereigns he said, ‘God























THE OLD CATHEDRAL, HAVANA.

made me the messenger of the new heavens and new earth, and told
me where to find them. Charts, maps, and mathematical knowledge
had nothing to do with the case.’

“So you well see Columbus thought that his ideas were divine
*

316 ZIGZAG ¥OURNEYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

inspirations. He once dreamed, as you have been told, that the
Prophet Isaiah appeared to him, and he believed in angelic sugges-
tions. Whatever there may have been in these views, one thing is
certain, that Columbus himself thought that an inward inspiration
was his guide; and for this gift he gave God the glory. It was follow-
ing the inward spiritual light, and schooling the best gifts, and being
true to his best self, that made Christopher Columbus the first man of
his age and the leader of mankind.”

Genoa la Superba! Genoa that rises white from the purple sea
and covers the hills with churches and palaces!

There is one spot in Genoa to which all feet of travellers first turn.
It is not to the white palaces,— not to the remains of royalty or knight-
hood, or to any hall of art. It is to the Statue of Columbus, which is
the pride of the city, and the crown of all the achievements of Italy:
- Columbus the mariner, Columbus the missionary, Columbus the vice-
roy, Columbus the leader of the Progress of Mankind!

It is of white marble, and the legend on the face ‘surface reads, —