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CUTS AT YANKEES!

EVERYBODY now-a-days has his fling at the Yankee. "Lions" and asses run through the States, and on their return rush to the publisher with a book, destined, ultimately, for the trunk-maker or the butter-retailer. Our Sibthorps inspect their House of Assembly at Washington, and describe the oratory as flat and insipid. Our Chowlers look at the small plough-farming of the New England States and of the Far West, and pronounce it of the most worthOur sailors look at the paltry less description. dockyards, and boldly aver that America is no "brush maritime country, and could never stand a with England." And so of their army,-a few raw recruits!-a lot of noodle militia !-not to be compared with the third-rate powers of the continent ! They have no difficulty in coming to conclusions on Any young man who has such subjects as these. just left school, and is supplied with money enough to make a run from New York to New Orleans, is quite competent to deliver an opinion about the slavery, cotton, agriculture, commerce, and political movements of the United States. Any young lady fresh from the drawing-rooms and saloons of England; any well-bred country gentleman, who knows next to nothing of his own country; any tourist in search of six months' pleasure; considers himself or herself perfectly competent to deliver an ex cathedra opinion on America, its people, and institutions, and to set it down in print for the benefit of a discerning British public.

the The author

Not many De Toquevilles or Mackays have yet written books about America. The great ruck of writers belongs to the extensive snob genus,-male We could name a host of these,and female. beginning with Trollope and ending with last half-dozen writers on America. of "Sketches of Cantabs," and "Across the Atlantic," is one of the liveliest and most amusing of these. He makes no His last book is really clever. pretence, sets no faces, but rattles along in the most racy style imaginable. He gives no statistics, but professes to offer only scribblings; and very amusing they are. Indeed, the young Cantab not unfrequently throws a fresh light upon important topics, which more "solid" writers have left immersed in obscurity. He is met at the first port of America by

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the newspapers, containing "The Confession of Dr. Webster," with the fascinating details of the murder he had committed. At Liverpool, he had left the newsmongers and news-readers busy with the details of the Mannings' and Rush's equally atrocious crimes. There was not one straw difference, then, between the two civilized countries, in respect of their voracity for criminal intelligence.

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Everybody who reads knows what Boston is,its English look, but more than English cleanliness, its green-blinded windows, rows of green trees, and gaily-coloured buildings, giving an air its wealth, of picturesqueness to the streets, prosperity, snugness, and comfort, -all these are well enough known, and have been often enough described. Our traveller felt almost disappointed that he should have gone so far to meet with something so closely resembling what he had left behind at home, excepting only the large admixture of squalid poverty which abounds in English towns of equal size, and which the towns of the United States certainly cannot match. But the steamers were really something "The two great funnels rising up out of the middle, like the spires of a cathedral,-the tiers of balconies outside, the army of negro-waiters drawn up to receive you as you embark, the astounding coup-d'ail presented by the various saloons, into each of which you might stow the saloons of half-a-dozen ocean-steamers such as the Hibernia,-all this, and a vast deal besides, strikes you with the idea of a water village or a floating city,-two names which I recommend to the direction, as substitutes for the ridiculous misnomer, 'steam-boat.'

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Of New York, the romance has been entirely taken out long ago by the tourist-host, who have rummaged it from end to end, so that it is as well known, from its Broadway and Astor-House down to its lowest negro quarters, as any part of London or Dublin. One thing, however, struck the Cantab, -that the beautiful squares of New York were not the exclusive resorts of the tenants of the neighbouring houses, there were no keys to the enclosures; but the gates swung open to the touch of nursemaids, children, and even working people. The sovereign people of New York are their own Commissioners of Notwithstanding the evidences Woods and Forests. of great prosperity, and wealth, there is an air of democracy over all. No liveried menials are to be

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The city of New York is a collection of men from all the ends of the earth. "Faces of every hue, and race, and nation, shoot past you. Jew, Turk, and Infidel jostle each other on the pavement; Celt, Sclave, and Anglo-Saxon tread upon each other's heels; here comes the Spaniard with his tawny face and huge moustaches,-there goes the German with hazy expression, like a cow chewing the cud, there the Englishman, pompous and padded."

The taste for art is not very high in New York. Barnum's Museum is the most important receptacle for objects connected with the fine arts; and a collection of figures done in tallowy wax, with a few giants, dwarfs, portraits of Siamese Twins, and twopenny prints of old actors, with a sprinkling of stuffed lions and alligators, are the principal objects. The Sun is the portrait-painter-in-chief there,-the Daguerreotype being much more extensively patronized in America than at home. As for music, the Nigger melodists everywhere carry the day; white singers consenting to black their faces and sing La Sonnambula in that guise to suit the popular taste. Nigger habitudes are extensively patronized; a young man who meets you in the street, and desires to be "funny," proceeds to imitate the peculiar chuckle of the sable race. This pitiful state of things is still going on, and is deplored by all sensible Americans.

Barnum, as one of the celebrities of the States, and a kind of Representative Man, as Emerson would call him, is not unworthy of a passing notice. "The rise of this illustrious person, like that of some of his fellows, would seem to be veiled in obscurity. Whether he rose to fame on a fabulous griffin, or reached the wished for goal on the back of an eightlegged horse, must remain matter of conjecture. His more recent exploits are well known. They are: Firstly, the discovery of an extraordinary fish. Secondly, the production of a Quaker giant. Thirdly, of a giantess to match, who married the giant. Fourthly,-of an old black woman, either a nurse, or an attendant of some sort, on General Washington, who related anecdotes of the patriot in infancy. Fifthly, of Tom Thumb. Sixthly,-of Jenny Lind. Seventhly, Eighthly, and Ninthly,of a giantess and giant boy; some Chinese gentlemen and ladies of high rank; and a negro who has discovered a process of turning his skin from black to white by means of a herb, which process he is now undergoing. Independently of which, I have heard that Mr. Barnum has a third share of some ghosts, who are now showing off their mysterious rappings' -to enthusiastic audiences."

From New York to Philadelphia is an oftentravelled piece of ground, remarkably English in its look. Indeed, New England throughout is but a repetition of Old England,-in its houses, its inhabitants, its manners, and modes of life. The difference between the two countries is very much less than travellers are prepared to expect. There are the same green fields, church spires, and pretty villages; the same kind of manufactories, crops, and occupations. The son has but inherited his father's tastes and mode of life; he is, after all, but a chip of the old block, though he does perhaps speak through his nose more than modern Englishmen like to do. Yet even the nasal twang is an inheritance, being lineally descended from the Puritan fathers, who set the fashion of speech there some two hundred years ago. Philadelphia has ceased to be the "Quaker City." Quakers there, as at home, have become converted to more fashionable and dressy religions, and have gradu

ally merged into "the world." Yet the inhabitants, like the city itself, are still distinguished by the neatness and cleanness of that most reputable and decorous of all the sects. But the decorum of Philadelphia is rather outraged at times by the broils which occasionally break out between the Negro and the Irish population, who indulge a mutual antipathy to each other. In another important respect does this city belie its Quaker origin,-being famous for its military processions, in which the natives turn out in ponderous caps, enormous jack - boots, weighty muskets, thick cloth coats, and all the paraphernalia of military life clinging to their perspiring frames under the glare of a boiling sun,-like a regiment of Blues exercising in a hot oven. But they endure it all patiently, thus doing cheerful service to the god This hot atmosphere, indeed, proved too much for our Cantab, who retreated before it towards the sea-coast, and took up his quarters for a time at the sea-bathing town of Newport. Here he enjoyed a snatch of life not very different from what one leads at Brighton, Cheltenham, Scarborough, or Harrowgate. But the bathing at Newport is peculiar. The ladies there go into the water clad in enormous woollen petticoats, thick upper clothes, and sundry other tuckings-up. In short, they are so cased and muffled up, that the impression prevails that they come out of the sea as dry as they went in.

of war.

Henry Clay pays Newport a visit at this time, and see what is his fate :-"One evening an acquaintance of mine came over to the Atlantic House and insisted upon my accompanying him to the Belvue Hotel, where he was desirous that I should catch a glimpse of his great countryman. I assented, resolving, however, in my own mind, that I would not thrust myself unduly forward, and in case of an introduction taking place, depart after the interchange of a few common-place observations. On our arrival, we found that he had gone off to his room, and I was accordingly preparing to return to my hotel, when my companion proposed that we should peep through the window of the statesman's apartment, and get a sight of him. 'It looks out upon the verandah,' said he, and there are no blinds, so we shall easily manage it.' I was on the point of declining any participation in this manoeuvre, when, at a little distance, I perceived a large crowd collected in front of a couple of windows, the foremost of whom were pressing their noses against the glass, like a mob before a surgeon's shop, when a wounded man has been taken inside. Persons were actually getting out chairs, and clambering on each other's shoulders, to gaze at something within. On going up, and edging my way through the throng (the Cantab went like the rest), I caught sight of the back of an arm-chair, with a few locks of grey hair emerging from the top, and a pair of Wellington boots visible below. I had no need to be informed that it was the hair and the Wellington boots of Henry Clay that I saw before me. Whether this was his bedroom, and the many-headed stopped to see their representative undress, I cannot say. that night, at least, my curiosity was satiated." This conduct, though confessedly rude, was no worse than the hunt of the Queen of England, by a fashionable mob of ladies and gentlemen, through the streets of Brighton, which took place only a few years ago. The Yankees have no queen to mob, so they hunt their Clays, Websters, and Van. Burens, the great men who make speeches.

For

We pass over the Cantab's remarks on the dancing of American ladies, and of the fast young men, or "rowdies," who have brought reproach on the waltz and polka by the casino style in which they deport

ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

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themselves in these dances; and proceed to Baltimore, 66 the delicious idea where the traveller dwells on of being served in his hotel by so many pounds, ounces, pennyweights, and grains, of human flesh and blood, and on "the secret glow of pride and self-gratulation" which is felt at the thought that the black servant who showed you up to your bedroom, all that complicated machinery of legs and arms, bones and sinews,-all that head, with the ideas (if any) which it was capable of producing,that all this might become as effectually and thoroughly your property, as the ring on your finger, or the boots on your feet, by the passage, from your pocket into some one else's pocket, of a few torn, dirt-begrimed bits of paper called bank-notes. After all, this is the dark speck upon the States, though England is not by any means guiltless in the matter, England, who fastened the curse of slavery on America, and left it to her as an inheritance. One of the most original things in Baltimore, worthy of the puffing ingenuity of Barnum himself, is a monument erected in the cemetery there to a living man,-complete, with the exception of the date of his death. The tomb acts as an advertisement; for, on visiting the cemetery, and being shown the "Who is Mr. tomb, the question is usually asked, So-and-so?" And the answer of course is, "Oh! he's an extensive ship-builder, or copper-founder (as the case may be), in such a street!

Washington, the capital (for there are hundreds of other Washingtons) is distinguished by its straggling streets and by its dulness,-by comfortable black picaninnies running about fat and happy, though slaves, in a land of freedom,-by the large number of spitting members of Congress who frequent it during the sittings of the legislature, and by the long prosy speeches which they deliver, exceeded only by the lucubrations of Colquhoun, Inglis, and Anstey, in our own highly-favoured House of Commons. One thing which struck the Cantab in gazing at the paintings commemorative of the great events of the American War, which decorate the Chamber of Representatives, was, that the English officers and soldiers of the day there represented, were a terribly ill-formed set of men, with countenances on which the worst passions were plainly depicted, whereas the faces of the Americans, on the contrary, were stamped with an expression of manly beauty, virtue, and intellect, which must have been, indeed, beautiful to behold,more especially since those qualities are not so plainly written on the faces of their descendants. Cantab feels, however, that other travellers have been before him in the American Congress as elsewhere, and left nothing untold, down to the size, weight, and measurement of each honourable member's spittoon; the number of representatives that had, and that had not, neckcloths; how many patriots sat with their high-lows off, and their feet away the up in the air; and how many "whittled "This is time that hung so heavily on their hands. a serious misfortune," says he, "that go where we will, there is sure to have been some meddling gossip beforehand, to forestall us; in the most out-of-theway places, we find traces of our countrymen. In my summer excursion to Pekin, for instance, I labour under the apprehension that I shall find some halfdozen of my namesakes teaching the emperor billiards and making memorandums of Court scandal. I have even walked along Vauxhall Bridge, and found myself not alone!"

The

He

The Cantab did not like the sample of American
legislators with whom he came in contact.
thought them rather a dirty body. His hotel was
They poked their heads
full of the legislators.
into every conceivable sitting-room, smoking-room,

66

and drinking-bar; they whittled in the hall; they
scratched their heads in the peristyle; they grunted
The odour of their chewing
in remote passages.
tobacco mingled with the sauces coming in to
dinner, and was wafted through the keyhole, as you
turned round sick and restless in your bed, and
sought in vain, in the hot atmosphere, to get a wink
of sleep." All this must have been provoking
enough to one who had expected the ton of an
aristocratic House of Commons among men bred in
the back-woods, and probably nine out of ten of whom
had worked their way through life by the labour of
Worse than all, were several
their own hands.
"most awful bores" which the House of Congress
contained, who spoke upon every motion, and had
various ways of exhibiting their folly, though he
had not heard that they had yet exhibited the bright
idea which some English legislators are so apt to
illustrate, - of dragging religion into every dis-
cussion. With the communication existing between
the countries, this may, of course soon be looked for.
One thing, however, appears plain enough to the
Cantab, that there is no mystery attached to either
American legislation or American legislators. The
public galleries are thrown open to all. Everything
is above board. The springs by which the political
The President,
machine is kept going are all seen.
the Secretary-at-War, the Secretary of the Home
There is no more
Department, are but men.
mystery hanging over their deliberations, than there
is over those of a vestry in a country town. So the
Americans come to know all about their government;
they even watch it closely, and everybody knows
how it works. Even those "dirty" legislators, as
our clever young friend calls them, have no mean
Sometimes they
standing at European courts.

venture even to do bolder things abroad than our
great mystery-men, the foreign ministers of Britain.
The Yankee has read lessons to Austria, to Portugal,
and even to our own great country itself, before
now. You may step in and smoke a pipe with
Mr. Fillmore in a homely way; but a wave even
of Mr. Fillmore's pipe will go further, now-a-days,
than the edicts of most of the padded dandies of
European courts. Mr. Fillmore might put a piece
of metal on his head, call his house a palace, and
surround himself by tall guardsmen in long swords
and jack-boots; but though he might thus find
we very much question
favour with Cantabs,
whether either his real dignity or power would be
The Cantab says
augmented by the artifice.
Well, this is a great country,"
that the phrase of "
is the end and conclusion of every discussion with an
American. Of course, we do not say that of Eng-
We are too
land, because we do not need to say it.
But don't wę
well satisfied of the fact already.
think it all the same?

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After all, we can well afford to let our American friends congratulate themselves upon their country. It is great, and "that's a fact." Doubtless, it has no attractions for the class of Cantabs. Yet there are thousands of people in this highly-favoured land who do find attractions there, and who are even now emigrating thither at the rate The land is a rich of about half-a-million a year. land, and in most parts it is a free land. If its population is not so well-bred and refined as it ought to be, it is partly because that population is made up of the worst-bred and worst-educated classes of Great Britain, who have emigrated thither Give them at sundry times and in divers manners. time, and they will improve.

To expect perfect propriety in a country only in process of formation, and which is made out of the rakings-up and sweepings-out of all other countries, is as absurd as to expect groves, gardens, and shady

116

lanes growing up with the sludge that is being swept together into islands at the mouth of the Mississippi. And then for young writers from England to go out to America, and after a six months' run through the States come home and write a book about American society, is as ludicrous as it would be for a man to attempt to give a description of a locomotive from having once seen it pass him at the rate of sixty miles an hour. But books must be written, and books must sell; hence "Cuts at Yankees,"-sometimes satiric, sometimes wooden cuts, sometimes clever, but oftener dull. The crack yachts'-men the other day set up a laugh at the idea of a Yankee yacht coming from America to take the shine out of them. The idea of the swiftest yachts of the greatest naval country in the world being beat by Yankees! But the "old salts," "America when once they had set eye on the schooner, knew what to expect; and they foretold what would happen. America is yet an exceedingly youthful country, full of life, health, and vigour. In the course of nature, the son not unfrequently outstrips his father in all ways; but the father ought to be proud, not envious, of his progeny. Why should we regard America as a rival? She is our own nearest of kin. By all means, let her go on and prosper.

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IT is difficult to convey by words an idea of an Oriental garden. There is always danger of creating a picture too luxuriant and gorgeous, of transporting the reader into the regions of Arabian mythology, of awakening impressions, indeed, totally different from those which one really does experience when wandering in the places themselves. wealth of materials for poetical enumeration! What poverty of effect! These are the first exclamations that rise to our lips at sight of the result of the utmost efforts of Egyptian horticulture, for I speak now especially of Egypt.

What

Palm, pomegranate, fig, sycamore, olive, orange, and citron trees could not be disposed in a more unpicturesque and tasteless manner than, for example, in the garden of Moharrem Bey (near does Alexandria), — where, if any lovely group present itself, it is entirely the creation of accident. Trees among the Muslims are in general regarded simply as fruit-bearing or as shadow-giving; and I never could make any one of them understand the applicability of the word kwoyés-" beautiful "-to anything that was not of immediate utility. Women are kwoyés,-good puddings are kwoyés,-pure water, strong coffee, fragrant tobacco, and a cool shade, are all kwoyés; but the shade of a ragged tent is on a par with that of the grandest sycamore.

The garden "belonging to Moharrem Bey," as it is called, but which practically belongs to the public, is a vast space of ground, part orchard, part kitchen-garden, and in part, though as I have said The walks are almost accidentally, ornamental. straight, and bordered with trees, generally small and irregular in height. Here and there is a kind of arbour full of cobwebs and dried leaves; and at one point a very handsome kiosque with fountains, in

the midst of a grove planted not with any artistic intentions, but entirely for the purpose of creating a dense cool shade. Thither the Alexandrians repair in crowds towards evening, in order to enjoy their pipes and gaze at the toilettes of the fine ladies, -European, of course, or, at any rate, Christian; for when a harim favours the spot with a visit, the doors are closed, and all profane males rigidly excluded.

One evening I went to the garden with two friends, one a Levantine, and one, as the ladies called There had been rather a hot him, a Muscovite. wind, so that very few thought it comfortable to be we found the walks almost out of doors, and deserted. Now and then a figure would cross slowly at the bottom of a long vista; and once we heard some children laughing in a thicket; but these circumstances only heightened the feeling of solitude which came over us, as we strolled languidly along, and obeyed unresistingly the impulse first to lower our voice into a whisper, and then to relapse into silence.

As I have said, there is no intentional beauty in the way in which the trees are arranged; but accident is sometimes a great artist, and one little avenue running east and west presents a charming We entered it perspective, especially at that hour.

by the eastern extremity. The sun was blazing full upon us, with its almost horizontal beams, over the garden-wall, and made us pause to notice the curious effect. It was like a furnace at the bottom of a cave of verdure. Our eyes were dazzled. Not only was it impossible to look straight a-head, but even the forms of the trees seemed to waver before our eyes, as a thousand beams of gold, and green, and purple, and crimson, worked their way through them. Presently, however, the sun sank out of view, leaving the tips only of the trees, as it were, quick with light, and allowing us to see the various forms of the branches, the masses of leaves, the dark All the trees shadows, the track of bright green. which the garden produces were grouped there, and at various intervals the huge ragged leaves of the banana drooped gently across the path.

We had resumed our walk, when suddenly a group presented itself coming down towards us, intercepting the last rays of light. With the exception of one old gentleman, wearing a beard of huge respectability, they were all women encased in habaras, or black silk mantles, under which were seen what may be called aprons of blue, red, yellow, green, descending from the chin to the feet. Most of them carried their veils in their hands, showing that they belonged to that class of Levantines which is beginning to consider itself civilized; and a collection of prettier and more expressive faces it is difficult to imagine.

There was one, however, that surpassed all the rest in loveliness; but loveliness of a peculiar kind. The countenance, though apparently belonging to one young in years, was far from holding out that delightful promise of a first passion which is so irresistibly attractive to whoever possesses a sensitive mind. Every feature, even in its intense repose, seemed to bear the record of having once been kindled by powerful feeling; the mouth was, as it were, languid with too much smiling, the eyes were faint with too much weeping, and the pale flag of melancholy was hoisted in those cheeks, that erewhile had glowed with health and joy. Other faces tell of romance to come; this told of romance that had passed. It was impossible for me to behold it for a moment without desiring to know the details, of the history of which there was a reminiscence in every look.

My companions were not remarkable for perspicacity, and vulgarly fell in love at first sight. I could as soon of thought of falling in love with a young wife weeping over the grave of her first-born. The deep interest, however, which I felt, and which was revealed in my manner, was mistaken by my friends for a passion so much stronger than theirs, that after the ceremony of introduction was over, they instinctively allowed me to address myself to the pensive beauty, and by degrees to monopolize her society. But the character of my attentive notice was not mistaken by its object, and I was rewarded by a kindness and familiarity of behaviour, that drew upon me a variety of nudges and several very audible whispers to the effect that I was a lucky fellow. "deuced I considered myself so; though not in the sense in which they understood the words. Miriam was a charming person,-quite a lady among her people, and without being very lively, entertained me, as we walked a little apart from the company, with most amiable conversation. interview lasted less than half-an-hour; but before it drew quite to a close, our intimacy seemed so to have ripened, that I ventured to acknowledge the interest her appearance had awakened in me. of sadness instantly settled upon her features; two A deep cloud or three large tear-drops twinkled amidst her splendid eye-lashes, and she said to me, almost with a motherly expression:-"Young stranger, it were a piteous tale to relate, yet if I had the strength and courage, I would do so. the narrative would be neither amusing nor instrucBelieve me, however, tive. Such sorrows as mine are too common in the world to suggest any other moral than this,--'mankind were born to suffer,'-and perhaps you have already lived long enough to know that the brighter and keener are our hopes, the more bitter is our disappointment."

The

We returned to town soon afterwards; my companions had learned that the lady had just arrived from Syria, and proposed to remain some timeprobably for good-in Alexandria. She was said to possess a fair fortune; but singularly enough, no one knew precisely whether she was married or single, maid or widow. This was the more remarkable, as among the Levantines everyone is related more or less to everybody, and the most private matters are discussed and canvassed by the whole community. Whether the old gentleman with whom she lived knew more than he chose to tell, or not, my friends could not decide. They both joined me in declaring Lady Miriam to be a most beautiful and interesting person, and very obstinately insisted that my curiosity about her was not objectless. They pronounced her an excellent match; but with a jealousy, natural it would seem to mankind, maliciously followed up this declaration of opinion by suggesting that there was something very suspicious in her history.

I subsequently learned the truth from the lips of Miriam herself. As she had forewarned me, it was the old story of disappointed hopes, over which the world has wept for thousands of years, and over which, alas! it will ever continue to weep. there were some incidents that gave a peculiarly But Eastern stamp to the narrative. She was a native of Damascus, in Syria, but had left that city when about the age of fifteen, and gone to Constantinople, where her father set up in business. I thought myself transported back to the times of Haroun El-Rashid,

as

listened to how this merchant arrived in the great city, how he took a shop and spread his goods for sale, and how of one piece of gold he made two. As she spoke, and seemed to cast about in the deep recesses of her memory for facts, I made a curious observation, the truth of which was afterwards

117

confirmed. It seemed as if she was older than her appearance at first testified, and that sorrow, instead of having induced premature decay, had, as it were, petrified her, and caused her to retain through a long succession of years the very aspect she wore when misfortune fell upon her.

She had a little delicacy about telling me how she became acquainted with him. Possibly, like many other young girls, in some moment of idleness, she looked out for a sentimental adventure for its own sake. The object of her love was a youth, less remarkable for beauty than for a certain princely demeanour, a certain elevation of views, a certain reckless violence of passion peculiar to himself. He insisted that, for some time, their acquaintance should be kept a secret from the father,-promising when the fitting moment came to demand her hand with such circumstances of splendour as would insure success. When asked who and what he was, he answered with some hesitation, that he was the son of a prince, a king,-somewhere in the north; and Miriam guessed that he came from one of the Danubian provinces, which she had heard were Christian. Having full confidence in his honour, and conceiving that he must have some powerful motive for mystery, she abstained from pressing him much on this subject.

They used to meet in a little kiosque or pavilion in a garden behind her father's house, near the borders of the sea. The young man used to come in a little caique with a single attendant, who remained on the watch. Miriam at first brought a faithful black girl as companion and protector; but soon disregarded this precaution, and confided herself entirely to her lover. Long and sweet moonlight nights, bright and balmy days, they passed together, whilst the old father was at business, or in bed. It was the season of spring, and Nature seemed to soften and grow more beautiful to please their young

senses.

At length a little cloud gathered on the horizon. The father announced that the time of marriage had come, and that he had sought for and selected a husband. There is a good deal of routine in these love affairs. Miriam had not the courage to acknowledge, and the old man had not the wit to understand. They were neither of them more angelic than the Capulets; and, Eastern ideas aiding, the sad history of that family menaced to repeat itself. A powerful will, however, inter

vened to force the current of events into a new channel.

Two nights after Miriam had communicated to her
lover the proposed marriage, she was sitting in the
kiosque, looking forth upon the broad expanse of
waves that danced and kindled in the moonbeams.
She had sat there the previous night and waited in
vain for the coming of what she considered as the star
of her existence; and that night the usual hour had
long since passed, when she beheld a large caique with
an awning or cabin approaching along the shore.
She shrank a little backwards behind the shadow of
by strangers. But the caique advanced boldly to the
a myrtle-bush, lest her presence might be observed
usual landing-place, and her lover leaped lightly
ashore, and ran to meet her. The first embrace over,
he invited her, in a wild, reckless way, to come
on board his caique, and enjoy an hour or two on
the water. Not displeased, though somewhat
puzzled by his manner, she went. He took her into

the cabin, and there, when the crew of sixteen men
had plied their oars for some time, confessed that
he was taking her away from her home.
expostulated at first; but he soon continued to
She
console her by promises that her father should know

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