"Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, | Something there was in her life, incomplete, imperfect, unCheering with looks and words the disconsolate hearts of the women, finished, As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine, As, o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they de- Suddenly paused in the sky, and fading, slowly descended parted, Into the East again, from whence it late had arisen." Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their children!" Does the poet really mean that these primitive children of Grand Pré urged their mothers home with their weary feet-kicking them along the road? If so, we must conclude that old "Father Felician" was remiss in teaching them the fifth commandment. It was certainly very undutiful behavior. After selecting so many unfavorable speci mens of the poem, it would not be fair to omit some of an opposite character. Those which follow, will recommend themselves, I think, without a word of praise. "In doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer Sat in his elbow chair, and watched how the flames and the smoke-wreaths Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him Nodding and mocking along the wall, with gestures fantastic, And now, patient reader, for patient you have proved yourself, if you have read so far as this, I propose to sum up all that I have been writing, in some hexameters of my own: in respect of which, I have only to say, with "rare Ben Jonson," that, if they be not poetry, they at least are truth! -'Way down east, there lives one Long-fellow, odd and fantastic, Who writes poetry, which many people are fond of perusing. I like much of it-nevertheless, in my critical judgment, tions, Which do appear to me sometimes fanciful, quaint and pedantic. There is "Evangeline," who is a lovely one, if she was drest well; But she masquerades in an old suit of hexameter verses, Which seem stolen from some theatrical, classical, pawnshop. Longfellow might as well strut about, in an old toga virilis, Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into dark- Or put a helmet on his little head, take a spear in his right ness. hand, And play the part of a Cicero, Pompey, or Coriolanus. Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christ-Tis not a new thing to see poets fail in an effort of this mas, Such as at home in the olden time, his fathers before him Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vineyards." A venerable old man is thus described "Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean, Bent, but not broken, by age" Here are two very pretty, though somewhat quaint fancies "Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the Angels." "And as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon pass Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps, kind Southey attempted it, till Anti Jacobins tore him to frag ments And Henry W. would act judiciously, if he would turn back, And trot his Pegasus, in the same gait that "the masters" have taught him. THE CRIME OF ANDREW BLAIR. BY P. P. COOKE. CHAPTER I. On a small lot of ground, fenced off from a corner of a large and valuable estate, stood many As, out of Abraham's tent, young Ishmael wandered with years ago, a mean log cabin. It fronted upon a Hagar!" Evangeline's desolation, and fortitude, are touchingly expressed in these lines, with which our quotations shall conclude— highway, which, like many others in Virginia, was a river of mud in winter, and a strip transplanted from Zahara, in summer. In this cabin lived Molly Herries, an old witch of a woman, and Jack Herries her son. The mother was "Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all hideously ugly, ill-natured and querulous. The things son was a heavy, round-shouldered fellow, with Fair was she and young; but alas! before her extended, high cheek bones, cunning black eyes, a dark oily Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its path-skin, and damp looking black hair. One day way, Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suf. at that ripe season when the haze of the Indian fered before her. summer obscures our landscapes-Molly Herries and Jack conversed: “Mother," said Jack, "I see the rich men go his mother's cabin. We must go before him to by on their snorting horses: are they any better this house. than I am? I see the rich ladies go by in their grand carriages: when you go out it is on foot, with a stick in your hand. God made all of us. There is a great injustice in some being up so high, and others just as good being down so low." “Work you rascal-work," answered the old woman. This good advice seemed to fall like a fagot upon the embers of Jack's meditations. Andrew Blair, a man of wealth, talent, political training, and a fair degree of distinction, had built a palace on his patrimonial estate. It stood on the broad top of a towering hill-some foundling of mountain origin, put down far away among the lowlands. He called this residence, which his pride had established in place of the old rambling homestead of his father, by a fine name-Lindores. -Work!" he retorted-"its very easy to say Andrew Blair sat in a superb room, at dinner, work. Words come glib. But when I am strain- with his neighbor, Colonel Arthur Pellew. As ing my back, which is weakly because I have the wine does its work of development, you may been growing too fast; and when I lose my wind, perhaps read the two gentlemen. The host is a which has never been good since I was down man of singularly quick senses. His eyes watch with the measles, it's little comfort I get from and discover every thing. He hears a faint whisthinking of what's to be made by my working. per at a remarkable distance. His mind is subI might work for thirty years, and the best would be til and winds to its object. He is not dishonest, be a coat of plaster, and a new stone chimney to the or even crafty, in the evil sense of the word. It old rat-trap of a cabin. Mother, I am a rascal—is but the mind's constitution to do by graceful am I? Well, I'm going out to seek my fortune." indirection, and with an intense enjoyment of its "You are-are you?" said Molly Herries. own dexterity, what a bold mind does better at a "And what's to be done with me?" direct bound. His passions are swift and dan"That's your look out," answered the affec-gerous, but rather those of a woman than mascutionate son. "When birds get their wings, line. When he seems to be controlling them, he mother, they fly away. The old hen shifts for is only directing them: the calmness which looks like forbearance is only the cool search for the weak point of attack. herself." "But Jack," said the mother, softening under the first growth of alarm, "we can may-be fix things without your going away. It's not the bird that flies furthest that finds the greenest tree, or the fattest stubble to light in." "Mr. Blair promised to inquire for an overseer's place for me," replied Jack. "I am going to see him. But if he can't do anything for me, I'm off. I'm very fond of you-I am positively. But every tub on its own bottom. Of course, in this country, which is so enlightened, nobody's going to burn you for a witch." Molly Herries made a blow at the head of her son. He avoided it with a leap which put him outside of the cabin. His guest is blunt, frank, and choleric. As Jack Herries trudged up from the cabin to the palace, these gentlemen conversed over their dessert. "You wronged me in that business," said Pellew, "and the more I think of it the less I am satisfied with it." "Pellew," Blair answered, "I have more than once assured you that you misunderstood my agency in the affair. I explained to you in great detail, not a week ago—I thought at the time, quite to your satisfaction." So you did. You explained until devil the bit could I understand a simple matter. A dirty "Throw my coat out, mother," he said coax-wall requires a great deal of white-washing." ingly. "You don't suppose I was in earnest. Blair looked quickly to his guest, but answered "Pardon me; but the clearest truth, where one has a very single impatient mind to bring to judge of it." You don't suppose I would leave my respected with a smile: parent." Jack, at this effective stroke, put a knuckle into first one eye then the other. "Throw facts are minute and crowded, is unintelligible if my coat out. I'll be back from the great man's in a little while. Throw my coat out, mother." The old woman slammed the door in his face; "I understand you," answered the choleric then, grimacing angrily, threw a shabby coat out colonel. "You talk about my impatient mind. at a little loop-hole of a window. Jack Herries You mean my stupid mind. May be I am a jack put the garment on, smoothed down the cuffs, ass. But by you wronged me in the busiroached his hair with several applications of his ness, in spite of your fine excuses." beefy fingers and set off at a lazy gait. His des- Blair answered with a paling cheek, and a low, tination was the house of Andrew Blair-the clear tone: master of the estate, on a corner of which stood "Excuses? excuses did you say?" But he checked himself, and added coldly-" Finish your inexorable will was armed-on foot-and ready wine, and let us go into the open air." The gentlemen left the table and walked out. Pellew lived at no great distance, over some fields, beyond a skirt of woodland, at an old barracks of a place, which his bachelor life and bad temper made desolate enough. He had walked to Lindores, and now expressed his determination to go home. Andrew Blair quietly insisted upon walking a part of the way with him. One of the servants heard his master mutter-"a cutthroat evening it is, to be sure." Guest and host-the ox and the panther-walked away together. made on the to advance he looked up firmly and said boldly: "Mother, we must make a bon-fire of the old rat-trap. I have the great man in my power. The old witch shall have a coach for her crab stick yet. Money-money-makes all the difference between people, mother." CHAPTER II. The chapter just ended is but the prologue to my story. We must pass, at a bound, over a space of time greater than the interval which brought gentle Perdita from the wreck to the dance of the shepherds. The comment which Blair had weather was well enough merited. Five and twenty years have passed away. inable. The air was dry and hot. The rough bachelor's establishment, which once dull with a haze exaggerated, from a delicate belonged to Colonel Arthur Pellew, has underveil to an oppressive blanket of smoke-or of gone great changes. A cupola surmounts the something like smoke. The wind made mel-roof-so burnished a cupola that, in sunlight or ancholy sounds. No deciduous tree, except the moonlight, it blazes like a bale-fire. Pigeonwhite oak, retained its leaves; and these were as houses, imitated from the pagodas which we see dead as the beauty and youth of the world of a on blue India china, pierce the foliage of wilthousand years ago. The sun looked as it does lows, and shine with glossy birds that chase each when seen through smoked glass-orbed, rayless, other on the steep roofs, making war or love. and blood-red. The Indian summer, when it The portico of an Athenian temple towers in just a little touches our country scenes, is good front of the renovated edifice. Close, cramped and welcome; but when it shrouds us, and mel- avenues, walks edged with box, little gods and ancholy winds rise, I know nothing in the ill goddesses with cracked legs and weather-stainlooks of honest winter half so dismal. ed shoulders, tulip beds under forest trees, and Andrew Blair and Colonel Pellew had been numerous other evidences of the introduction of sometime gone, when Jack Herries reached the a very refined taste, confound, if they do not dehouse. The negro is generally an affectionate light, the visitor. The interior of the house, whose creature, but he possesses very little generosity surroundings are so elaborate, is quite splendid. of sentiment, and deals hardly with his inferiors. I can, however, be only particular enough to say Freeborn Jack Herries in such a coat, with black that one apartment, the dining-room, is adornoily face, and vulgar manners, excited the posi-ed with paintings, and prints of a singular chartive indignation of a composed-looking old negro acter. Amongst the paintings, a series illusgentleman, in breeches and long hose, whose trates Hood's "Dream of Eugene Aram." The bushy grey hair spread to his shoulders like an execution of these is, in general, bad enough, but ample and well-powdered wig. But Jack was the painter has seized a ghastly conception ably not to be driven off until his questions were fully and the face of Aram, repeated in the different answered. When they were, he cocked his (sub-pictures, is something to haunt one. There are stitute for a) beaver, clenched his fists in his again some wild scenes, highly colored, and with pockets, and renewed his lazy gait in pursuit of a fantastic horror in their details, of man-killing the gentlemen, whom he could see drawing toward the skirt of woodland. The next hour of that dismal day saw a fatal deed done. on the Spanish main. Two Shakspeare prints— "The death of Desdemona," and "The murder of the Princes"-are amongst these proofs of a strange singleness of idea in the pictorial adornHement of the room. Andrew Blair came home after night-fall. was disordered in dress, and as wan as the messenger who pulled Priam's curtain. Jack Herries about the same time got back to his cabin. He seemed, beneath his weight of thought, to forget the foolish quarrel with his mother. He entered, sat down without a word, and with elbows on his knees, and face between his hands, meditated under a volley of questions. At last, as if thought had done its work, and the It was a sunny evening of late autumn. Along a cramped avenue-up to the Athenian porticorolled a carriage. Out of it got a well-dressed man, of middle age, with black hair, dark skin, and shrewd eyes. He looked about him, and gave directions, with the manner of a master. Such, indeed, he was. Jack Herries had become John Herries, Esq., a man of influence and large possessions, and rode in the coach which even his old mother-now some years dead-had lived | many ways, losing and winning, and now what to be trundled grandly about in, in fulfilment of is the result? Against the property which I have his bold promise. After him a lady, very small, got together is a monstrous debt. The man who very meek-looking, with a prim cap border visi- has built up my fortunes holds my bonds to so ble under her bonnet, and a rich dress remarka-great an amount, that the carpet I tread on would ble for a sort of tidy simplicity in its fashion, not be left to me if I were compelled to pay also descended from the carriage. It was clear, them. It was a weakness to borrow from him, from the fact that Herries merely stood to one when I might have compelled him to give. I side, and turned his tobacco in his cheek, leav-wanted boldness to say give." ing her to get out or tumble out as might happen, "Not so-I hope—not so: it was honor, and that the lady was his wife. And she did bear to the sense of right that prevented you from sayhim this relation which seems to justify every ing give"-stole in the fine clear voice of the prim sort of affectionate negligence. The poor boy, little wife. very soon after his escape from poverty to brighter hopes, had married this lady, then a comely and well-educated country girl, as much above him as her honest and simple tastes reduced her, in his false opinion, below his present grand posi tion. Man and wife were presently talking earnestly in the long dining-room hung with the pictures of murder. The conversation would seem to have been a continuation of one begun in the carriage. “These schemes," said Herries, with a slow emphatic utterance, "whether honest or wicked, must at least now be perfected for our security. Our son must marry the niece of Andrew Blair. I have broached the subject to Blair." Herries turned with a sudden step. His face assumed a resolute expression; but it was not because the good fairy of his household had strung his nature with better thoughts, for he said bluntly: "The safe ending must now be this. Our son must marry this girl, who, besides my bonds, will bring him the fine Lindores property. Blair of course will give every thing to the girl. He must. This will be a safe and honest conclusion to my dealings with him: every way better than my original scheme, which was-keeping a keen watch on his health-to strike in at the earliest failing symptom, and extort a surrender of my bonds. Tom must marry the girl, or I must at once adopt this original plan. Do you know that Blair has lately had a very singular attack? He may die suddenly any day." 66 "And how did he meet it?" the wife asked. "That matters very little," Herries answered evasively. "Pride must bend in this world. You When we begin to scheme," answered Mrs. groan, and say that I have borne hard on this Herries-clear-minded and unyielding-"we beman. Now I tell you that those who come after gin to make cares and troubles for ourselves." him, if he should die without a safe conclusion of matters between us, would bear harder upon us—yes—ruin us utterly-even to the second generation. One day I found my hands on a round of the ladder of life. I have climbed well since that day, but always with a danger pulling at my hands and feet, and threatening to drag me suddenly from the extreme height if I should win it." Herries strode to and fro, his face inclining toward his breast, his brow darker than the swart hues which anger produces could have rendered it; despondency had, for the moment, seized upon him. “Husband," said the wife, "if we keep our truth and purity, the rest is but dreams." "You must admit," said Herries impatiently, that I have schemed into all that we possess— property, influence, and good position. Indeed you never would have been my wife but for those first steps of my scheming which brought me up to an equality with your family." Mrs. Herries, being anything but one of those caustic wives who avail themselves of opportunities such as this to suggest the possibility that wedlock has proved a one-sided blessing, only said with honest energy: "Our property is not really ours-your influence is but caused by the weakness of human nature which pays court to the appearance of wealth-and our position, not being natural to us, is not truly so comfortable as the middle staFrom the day-the day-which brought me tion. An industrious perseverance would have up from the poverty which I may be dragged brought you to the middle station. These things back to, I have used Andrew Blair," Herries being true, in seeming to gain, what after all continued as if talking to himself. "I began by have you gained?" borrowing a sum of money from him, which, coming so freshly out of poverty, I thought quite a fortune. The use of this money enlarged my "Ah! even accomplish that end, and apart ideas. I borrowed again--and again--and again- from the remorse which may afflict you for the year after year. I bought lands, I speculated in use of bad means, you will inevitably find the "Nothing," says Herries, "unless I get rid of my bonds." VOL. XV-7 emptiness of the human baubles which your said John Herries, with a nervous, but persuaschemings have secured to you." sive accent. "We need not take trouble on in"My dear Mrs. Herries," replied the husband, terest. Tom will make himself agreeable. Blair "you have very profound reflections. You have will aid us. We must use a little innocent adroitread your Bible until you are sufficiently im-ness-that is all. Minny will no doubt consent. pressed with the idea that the possession which We will all be happy-Tom will be supremely follows human desire is vain and unsufficing. so. Wife, we will go down the hill of life, you But if Solomon, my dear, declared this for an and I, loving each other, hand in hand, without inexorable truth, you must remember that he a care." nevertheless held on to his throne and power. I "It will be a proud, grand match for our boy," have played the game of life with some effect. said the good mother, impressed, in spite of her I shall not, from any motive of that despairing cool reason, by the hopeful picture which her wisdom, give up the game quite yet, and consent husband drew. Presently the maternal heart to be blown away like a dead leaf from a tree. made her add: However, we are wasting words. We must act, not preach. Some first steps must be taken. It was with this idea that I invited my friend Blair and his charming niece to dine with us to-morrow. There will be a mixed company to meet them--but we can do no better. We must have Tom polish himself a little." and said: "But Tom is kind-natured, and an honest lad, and, when he comes rid of his young nonsense, will make a good husband." Shortly after this conversation between man and wife had come to such an end, Tom Herries, the son, came home from a visit to a neighbor. As he rode into the grounds near the house, the I am afraid that a feature in the character of smooth broad road of a circle invited him to feats good Mrs. Herries was obstinacy. Instead of of horsemanship. He put his horse, a strong dropping the conversation here, she fastened a sorrel, with long flapping ears, and a heavy tail pair of very gentle grey eyes upon John Herries, lying close to his quarters, into a quick gallop. Flap-ear, in making the round, shied from a "Husband, it is not often that you honor me statue of Mercury. The God held his caduceus, by talking to me about your important concerns. with its twining snakes, horizontally at arm's I must say a few words now, because I may not length. "When we come around again," thought have another opportunity until too late. If Tom, "we'll try a jump at the little fellow's walkMinny Blair will marry our son from love, or ing-stick." liking, let them marry, and end your troubles. But if you have some secret knowledge of some dark deed of that unhappy man, her uncle-and I long ago suspected as much-and mean to use what you know to drive these great people to the match, why, in the name of God, do not continue in the project." At the next round, Tom rode his horse at Mereury, drove in the spurs, and succeeded quite badly: he carried away the God's wand, his winged cap, and the head under this latter, with Flap-ear's heels. "What in the world are you doing, my son?" said Mrs. Herries from the portico. Tom dismounted without answering; and gave his horse to a groom. As he came upon the portico, his gait was somewhat unsteady, and the expression of his eyes peculiar. Herries looked to his wife with an expression of gloomy apathy. She continued: "You borrowed sums of money. Well, honest men borrow sums of money. Let these debts remain debts, either to be paid or to be left un"Ah!" muttered the mother, "you are tipsy, paid as your means may or may not enable you my poor son. Come to your room. Your father to pay them. Let your concealment, of what is in one of his black humors." you may know to the harm of poor Mr. Blair, Tom, a short, straight fellow, with aquiline be a friend's concealment of a friend's misdoings. nose, a receding forehead, and prominent eyes, I have not a heart to wish justice brought down pinched as close together as the muzzles of a where it brings misery. We can be happy if, double-barrel, took his mother's arm, and entered losing our property, we keep our honesty. We the house, saying with a groan: must have a wretched old age; no cheerfulness, "I have a severe rheumatism in my heel, no self-respect, no peace in this world or hope of mother, which accounts for my manner of walkhappiness hereafter, if we are dishonest, false, ing." extortionate, and cruel, in order to keep together our riches." The comeliness of Mrs. Herries became decided beauty, so warmly did her countenance express truth and honesty. CHAPTER III. John Herries gave a great dinner, and invited "The marriage will end all safely and well," many persons to it. The principal of these were |